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THE 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS 
 
 i_ 
 
 I M 
 
 1^^ 
 
 COMrRISIXG IIIS 
 
 Dramatic aiitr goctical ra^rlis 
 
 ACCURATELY PRINTED 
 
 FR03I THE TEXT OF THE CORRECTED COPY 
 
 LEFT BY THE LATE 
 
 GEORGE STEEVEXS, Esq. 
 
 ■(rlTII A 
 AND A 
 
 M E INI O I R 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH HISTORICAL STEEL ENGRAVINGS 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 
 R. W. CAREOLL & CO. 
 1866. 
 
BEPLACIMB 
 
 7?^ r A,) 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 Sketch of the Life of Skakspeare... 3 
 
 Temtest 11 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona 27 
 
 Meery Wives op Windsor 43 
 
 TwEiFTii Night 63 
 
 Measure for Measure 81 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing 101 
 
 Midsummer's Night's Dream 119 
 
 Love's Labor's Lost 134 
 
 Merchant of Venice 154 
 
 As You Like It 172 
 
 All's Well that Ends Well 191 
 
 Taming qp the Shrew 211 
 
 Winter's Tale 230 
 
 Comedy of Errors 252 
 
 Macbeth 265 
 
 King John 282 
 
 Richard II 300 
 
 Hexky IV.— Part First 320 
 
 TAOJ 
 
 Henry IV. — Part Second 341 
 
 Henry V 364 
 
 Henry VI. — Part First 387 
 
 " " Part Second 407 
 
 " " Part Third 430 
 
 Richard III 452 
 
 Henry VIII 479 
 
 Troilus and Cressida 502 
 
 TiMON OF Athens 527 
 
 coriolanus 545 
 
 Julius C-esar 571 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra 589 
 
 cvmbeline 614 
 
 Titus Andronicus 040 
 
 Pericles 058 
 
 EiNa Le.^r 076 
 
 Romeo and Juliet 701 
 
 Hamlet 723 
 
 Othello 751 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 Venus and Abonis, . . . , 
 Tub Rape of Lucrece, 
 
 Sonnets, 
 
 Passionate Pilgrim, 
 
 Lover's Complaint, . . . . 
 Glossary 
 
 775 
 7S3 
 795 
 811 
 814 
 819 
 
9^1 
 
 SKETCH 
 
 LIFE OF SHAKSPEAEE. 
 
 BY ALEXANDRE CIIALMEKS, A. M. 
 
 William Siiakspeare ivas born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in ■Warwickshire, on the 23rcl clay of April, 
 1564. Of the rank of his family it is not easy to form an opinion. Mr. Kowe says that by the 
 register and certain public writings relating to Stratford, it appears that his ancestors were " of good 
 figure and fashion," in that town, and are mentioned as " gentlemen," an epithet which was more 
 determinate then than at present, wlicn it has become an unlimited phrase of courtesy. His fiitlier, 
 John Shak.ipeare, was a eousidcrublc dealer in wool, and had been an officer and baihfl' (probably 
 high-bailiff or mayor) of the body corporate of Stratford. lie held also the office of justice of the 
 peace ; and at one time, it is said, possessed lands and tenements to the amount of £500, the reward 
 of his grandfather's faithful and approved services to King Henry VII. This, however, has l)een 
 asserted upon very doubtful authority. Mr. Malone thinks ''it is higldy j)robable that he distinguished 
 himself in Boswortli Field on the side of King Henry, and tliat lie was rewarded for his military 
 services by the bounty of that parsimonious prince, tliough not with a grant of lands. No such grant 
 appears in the Cha|iel of the Kolls, from the beginning to the end of Henry's reign." But whatever may 
 have been his former wealth, it appearn to have been greatly reduced in the latter part of his life, as W8 
 find, from the books of the CorporatioUj that, in 1579, he was excused the trifling weekly tax of fourpenco 
 levied on all tlio aldermen ; and that, m 15SI5, another alderman was appointed in his room, in conse- 
 quence of his declining to attend on the business of that office. It is even said by Aubrey,' a man 
 sufficiently accurate in hicts, although credulous in superstitions narratives and traditions, that lie followed 
 for some time the occupation of a butcher, which Mr. Malone tliinks not inconsistent with probability. 
 It must have been, however, at this time, no inconsiderable addition to his difficulties that lie httd a 
 family of ten children. His wife was the daughter and heiress of Kobert Arden of Wellingcote, in 
 the county of Warwick, who is styled "a gentleman of worship." The family of Arden is very 
 ancient, Robert Arden of Bromieh, Esq., being in the list of the gentry of this country returned by tlio 
 commissioners in the twelfth year of King Henry VI. A. D. 1433. Edward Arden was sheritf of tha 
 county in 136S. The woodland part of this country was anciently called Ardtm, afterwards softened 
 to Ardeji ; and hence the name. 
 
 Our illustrious poet was the eldest son, and received his early education, however narrow or liberal, 
 at a free school, probably that founded at Stratford. From this he appears to have been soon removed, 
 and placed, according to Mr. Malone's opinion, in the office of some country attorney, or the seneschal 
 of some manor court, where it is highly probable he picked up those technical law phrases that so 
 frequently occur in his plays, and coufd not have been in common use, unless among professional men. 
 Mr. Capell conjectures, that his early marriage prevented his being sent to some university. It 
 appears, however, as Dr. Farmer observes, that his early life was incompatible with a course of c'duea- 
 tion ; and it is certain, that " his contemporaries, friends and foes, nay, and himself likew'ise, agree in 
 his want of_ what is usually termed literature." It is, indeed, a strong argument in favor of 
 Shakspeare's illiterature, that it was maintained by all his contemporaries, many of whom have left upon 
 record every merit they could bestow on him ; and by his successors, who lived nearest to his time, 
 when " his memory was green ; " and that it has been cfenicd only by Gildon, Sewell, and others down 
 to Upton, who could have no means of ascertaining the truth. 
 
 In his eighteenth year, or perhaps a little sooner, he married Anno Hathaway, who was eight years 
 older than himself, the daughter of one Hathaway, who is said to have been a substantial yeomui in 
 the neighborhood of Stratford. Of his domestic economy, or professional occupation at this time, w6 
 have no information ; but it would appear that both were in a considerable degree neglected by Ida 
 
 ' MSS. Aubrey, Mus. Ashmol Ojon, examined by Mr. Malone. 
 
 000 ~ 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 associatiug with a gang of deer-stcalers. Being detected with them in robbing the park of Sir Thomas 
 Lucy of Charlecote, near Stratford, be was so rigorously prosecuted by that gentleman, as to be obliged 
 to leave his family a 'd business, and take shelter in London. Sir Thomas, on this occasion, is said to 
 have been exasperati d by a ballad Shakspeare wrote, probably his first essay in poetry, of which the 
 following stanza was communicated to Mr. Oldys : — 
 
 A parliament member, a justice of peace, 
 At home a poor scare-crowe, at London an aase, 
 If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, 
 Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it; 
 
 He thinks himself greate, 
 
 Yet an asse in his state 
 TTe allowe by his ears Imt with asses to mate. 
 If Lucy be lowsie, as some volke miacalle it, 
 Sing lowsie Lucy, whatever befall it. , 
 
 These lines, it must bo confessed, do no great honor to our poet ; and probably were unjust; for al- 
 though some of his admirers have recorded Sir Thomas as a "vain, weak, and vindictive magistrate," 
 he was certainly exerting no very violent act of oppression, in protecting his property against a man 
 who was degrading the commonest rank of life, and had, at this time, bespoke no indulgence by 
 Biiperior talents, 'i'he ballad, however, must have made some noise at Sir Tnomas's expense, as the 
 author took care it should be affl.xed to his park-gates, and liberally circulated among his neighbors. 
 
 On his arrival in London, which was probably in 15S6, when lie was twenty-two years old, he is 
 said to have made his first acquaintance in the play-house, to wliicli idleness or taste may have directed 
 him, an 1 where his necessities, if tradition may be credited, obliged liiiii to accept the office of call-boy, 
 or prompter's attendant. This is a menial whose employment it is to give the performers notice to be 
 ready to enter, as often as the business of the play requires their appearance on the stage. Poi'C, how- 
 ever, relates a story, communicated to him by Howe, but which Kowe did not think deserving of a 
 place iu the life he wrote, that must a little retard the advancement of our poet to the office just men- 
 tioned. According to this story, Shakspeare's first employment was to wait at the door of the play- 
 house, and hold the horses of those who had no servants, that they might be ready after the perform- 
 ance. But "I cannot," says his acute commentator, Mr. Steevens, *' disjuiss this anecdote without 
 observing, that it seems to want every mark of probability. Though Shakspeare quitted Stratford on 
 account of a juvenile irregularity, we have no reason to suppose that he had forfeited the protection of 
 liis father, who was engaged in a lucrative business, or the love of his wife, who had already brought 
 him two children, and was herself the daughter of a substantial yeoman. It is unlikely, therefore, 
 when he was beyond the reach of his prttsecutor, that he should conceal his plan of life, or place of 
 residence, from those who, if he found himself distressed, could not fail to afford him such supplies 
 as would have set him above the necessity of JuilJiriij horses for subsistence." Mr. Malone has re- 
 marked, in his "attempt to ascertain the order iu which the Tlays of Shakspeare were written, that ho 
 might have found an easy introduction to the stage : for Thomas Green, a celebrated comedian of that 
 period, was his townsman, and perhaps his relation. The genius of our autlior prompted him to write 
 poetry; his connection with a player might have given his productions a dramatic turn : or his own 
 sagacity might have taught him that fame was not" incompatible with profit, and that the theatre was 
 an avenue to both. That it was once the general custom to ride on horseback to the play, I am like- 
 wise yet to learn. The most popular of the theatres were on the Bankside ; and we are told by the 
 satirical pamphleteers of that time, that the usual mode of conveyance to these places of amusement 
 was by water, but not a single writer so much as liints at the custom of riding to them, or at the 
 practice of having horses held during the hours of exhibition. Some allusion to this usage (if it had 
 existed) must, I think, have been discovered in the cour.sc of our researches after contemporary 
 fashions. Let it be remembered, too, that we receive this tale on no higher authority than that of Cib- 
 ber's Lives of the Poets, vol. i, p. 130. Sir William Davenant told it to Mr. Bctterton, \\'lio communi- 
 cated it to Mr. Eowe, who, according to Dr. Johnson, related it to Mr. Pope." Mr. Malone concurs 
 in opinion, that this story stands on a very slender foundation, while he differs from Mr. Steevens as 
 to the fact of gentlemen going to the theatre on horseback. With respect, likewise, to Shakspeare's 
 father being "engaged in a lucrative business," we may remark, that this could not have been the case 
 at the time our author came to London, if the prcceeding dates be correct. He is said to have arrived 
 in London in 15S6, the year in which his father resigned the office of alderman, unless, indeed, we arc 
 permitted to conjecture that his resignation was not the consequence of his necessities. 
 
 But in whatever situation he was first employed at the theatre, he appears to liave soon discovered 
 those talents which afterwards made him 
 
 Th* applause, delight, the wonder of our stage I 
 
 Some distinction he probably first acquired as an actor, although Mr. Kowe has not been able to 
 discover any character in which he appeared to more advantage than that of the ghost in Hamlet. 
 The instructions given to the player in that tragedy, and other passages of his works, show an intimate 
 acquaintance with the skill of acting, and such as is scarcely surpassed iu our own days. lie api'cars 
 to have studied nature in acting as much as in writing. llut all this might have been mere theory. 
 Mr. Malone is of opinion he was no great actor. Tlie distinction, however, which he might obtain as 
 an actor could only be in his own juays, in which he would be assisted by the novel appearance of 
 author and actor combined. Before his time, it does not appear that any actor could avail himself of 
 the wretched pieces represented on the stage. 
 
 Mr. Eowe regrets that he cannot inform us which was the first play he wrote. More skilful research 
 has since found, that Komeo and Juliet, and Kichard II and III were printed in 1697, when ho was 
 thirty-three years old ; there is also some reason to think that he commenced as a dramatic writer in 
 1592, and Mr. M.alono even places his first play, " First Part of Henry VI." in 15S9. His plays, how- 
 ever, must have been not only^ popular, but approved by persons of tlie higher order, as we arc certain, 
 that lie enjoyed the gracious favor of (iueen Elizabeth, who was very fond of the stage : and the p»ar- 
 ticular and afleetionate patronage of the Earl of Southampton, to whom he dedicated his poems of 
 '■ Venus and Adonis," and his " Tarquin and Lucrcce," On Sir William Daveuant's authority, it has been 
 asserted, that this nobleman at one time gave liim a thousand pounds to enable him to complete u 
 p'.;rchase. At the conclusion of the advertisement prefixed to Lintot's edition of Shakspeare's poems, 
 It is said, " That most learned prjpce, and great patron of learning, King James the First, was pleasedi 
 with liis own hand, to write an amicable letter to Mr. Shakspeare ; which letter, though now lost. 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 remainud Ions; in the hanils of Sir William D'Aveuant, as a credible person now living can testifj;." 
 Dr. Fanner with great probability supposes, that this letter was written by King James, in return for 
 the coinplimcut paid to him in Macbeth. The relator of this anecdote was Shellield, Duke of Buck- 
 ingham." These brief notices, meagre as tliey are, may show that our author enjoyed high favor in 
 his day. Whatever wo may think of King James as a " learned prince," his patronamj, as well as that 
 of his predecessor, was sutlicient to give celebrity to the founder of a new stage. It ra.iy be added, 
 that his uncommon merit, liis candor, and good nature, are supposed to have procured him the admira- 
 tion and acquaintance of every person distmguished for such qualities. It is not ditficult, indeed, to 
 suppose, that Shakspoare was a man of humor, and a social companion, and probably excelled in that 
 species of minor wit not ill adapted to conversation, of which it could have been wished ho had been 
 more sparing in his writings. 
 
 How long he acted has'not been discovered, but lie continued to write till the year 1014. During 
 his dramatic career he acquired a property in the theatre,^ which he must have disposed of when ho 
 retired, as no mention of it occurs in his will. Ills connection with Ben_ Jonson has been variously 
 related. It is said, that when Jouson was unknown to the world, he offered a play to the theatre, 
 which was rejected after a very careless perusal, but that Shakspeare having aecidently cast his eye on 
 it, conceived a favorable opinion of it, and afterwards recommended Jonson and his writings to the 
 public. For this candor he was repaid by Jonson, when the latter became a poet of note, with an en- 
 vious disrespect. Jonson acquired reputation by the variety of his pieces, and endeavored to arro- 
 gate the supremacy in dramatic genius. Like a French critic, he insinuated Shakspeare's incorrectness, 
 his careless manner of writing, and his want of judgment ; and, as ho was a remarkably slow Avriter 
 himself, bo could not endnre the praise frequently bestowed on Shakspeare, of seldom alteiing or blot- 
 ting out what he had written. Mr. Malone says, " that not long after the year IGOO, a coolness arosa 
 between Shakspeare and him, which, however he may talk of his almost idolatrous affection, produced 
 on his part, from that time to the death of our author, and for many years afterwards, much clumsy 
 sarcasm, and many malevolent reflections." But from the.^e, wliich are the commonly received opinions 
 on tliis subject. Dr. Farmer is inclined to depart, and to think Jonson's hostility of Shakspeare abso- 
 lutely groundless ; so uncertain is every circumstance wo attempt to recover of our great poet's life. 
 Jonson had only one advantage over Shakspeare, that of superior learning, which miglit in certain 
 situations give him a superior rank, but could never promote his rivalship with a man who attained 
 the highest excellence without it. Nor will Shakspeare suffer by its being known, that all the drannitio 
 poets before he appeared were scholars. Greene, Lodw, Pcele, Marlowe, Nashe, Lily, and Kyd, had all, 
 says Mr. Malone, a regular university education ; and, as scholars in our universities, frequently com- 
 posed and acted plays on historical subjects.' 
 
 The latter part of Shakspeare's life was spent in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends. 
 He had accumulated considerable property, which Gildon (in his '• Letters and Essays," IG'J-t) stated to 
 amount to £300 per annum, a sum at least equal to £1000 in our days ; hut Mr. Malone doubts whether 
 all his property amounted to much more than £200 per annum, whieh yet was a considerable fortune in 
 those times, and it is supposed that he might have derived £:iOO per annum from the theatre while he 
 continued on the stage. , , . 
 
 lie retired some yeare before his death to a house in Stratford, of which it has been thought impor- 
 tant to gi\e the history. It was built by Sir Hugh Clopton, a younger brother of an ancient faraiiy in 
 that neighborhood. Sir Hugh was Sheriff of London in the reign of Richard III, and Lord Mayor in 
 the reio-u of Henry VII. By his will, he bequeathed to his elder brother's son, his manor of Clopton, 
 &c., and his house by the name of the Great Hmse in Stratford. A good part of the estate was in 
 possession of Edward Clopton, Esq.. and Sir Hugh Clopton. Knight, in 173.3. The principal estate had 
 been sold out of the Clopton family for above a century, at the time when Shakspeare became the pur- 
 chaser ; who having repaired and modelled it to his own mind, changed the name to JS'ew Place, which 
 the mansion-house, afterwards erected in the room of the poet's house, retained for many years. Tho 
 house and lands belonging to it continued in the possession of Shakspeare's descendants to the time of 
 the Eestoration. when they were re- purchased by the Clopton family. Here, in May, 1T4-2. when Mr. 
 tiarrick, Jlr. Mucklin, and Mr. Delano, visited Stratford, they were hospitably entertained under 
 Shakspeare's mulberry tree by Sir Hugh Clopton. He was a barrister at law, was knighted by King 
 George I, and died in the 80th year of his age, in December, 17.31. His executor, about the year 175-J, 
 sold Sew I'lace to the Rev. Mr. Gastrell, a man of lar^e fortune, who resided in it but a Jew years, in 
 consequence of a disagreement with the inhabitants ot Stratford. As he resided part of the year at 
 Litchticld. he thought ho was assessed too highly in the monthly rate towards the maintenance of the 
 poor : but being very properly compelled by "the magistrates of Stratford to pay tho whole of what was 
 levied on him, on the principle that this" house was occupied by his servants in his absence, ho 
 peevishly declared that Aat house should never be assessed again ; and soon afterwards pulled it down, 
 sold tho materials, and left the town. He had some time before cut down Shakspeare's mulberry tree,' 
 to save himself tho trouble of showing it to those whose admiration of our great poet led them to visit 
 the classic ground on which it stood. That Shakspeare planted this tree appears to be sufficiently au- 
 thenticated. Where New I'lace stood is now a garden. Before concluding this history, it may be 
 necessary to mention, that the poet's house was once honored by the temporary residence of Henrietta 
 Maria, queen to Charles I. Theobald has given an inaccurate account of this, as if she had been oliliged 
 to take refuge in Stratford from the rebels ; but that was not the case. She marched from Newark, 
 June IG, 1013. and entered Stratford triumphantly about the '22d of the same month, at the head of 
 threa thousand foot, and fifteen hundred horse, with one hundred and fifty wagons, and a train of 
 artillery. Here she was met by Prince Rupert, accompanied by a large body of troops. She resided 
 about three weelis at our poet's house, which w.as then possessed by his grand-daughter, Mrs. Nasho, 
 and her husband. 
 
 •Note hy Mr. Malone to "Additional Anecdotes of TVilliam Shakspeare." 
 
 sin 1003, he and several others obtained a licence from King James to exhibit comedies, tragedies, histories, 
 &c., at the tllobe Theatre and elsewhere. 
 
 4 This was the practice in Milton's days. **One of his objections to academical education, as it was then con- 
 ducted, is, that men designed for orders in tho Church were permitted to act plays," &c. Johnson's Life of Milton. 
 
 ^ "As the cariosity of this house and tree brought much fame, and more company and profit to the town, a cer- 
 tain man, on some disgust, has pulled the house down, so as not to leave one stone upon another, and cut down 
 the tree, and piled it as a stock of firewood, to the great vexation, loss, and disappointment of the inhabitants ; 
 liowever, an houest silversmith bought the whole stock of wood, and makes many odd things of this wood for 
 the curious." Letter in Annual Register, 1700 Of Mr. Gastrell and his lady, see Boswell's Lite ot Dr. John 
 •on, vol. ii, p. 330. Edit. 1793. 
 
Ti LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 During Shiikspearc's abode in tliis house, liis pleasurable wit, and good nature, says Mr. Eoirc, en- 
 gaged him the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship, of the gentlemen of the neighborhood. 
 Among these, Mr. Kowe tells a traditional story of a miser or usurer, named Combe, who, in couver- 
 Bation with Shakspeare, said he fancied the poet intended to write his epitaph if he should &ur\"ive liim, 
 and desired to know what he meant to say. On this Shakspeare gave Him the following, probably 
 extempore : 
 
 Ten in the hundred lies here engraved, 
 
 'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved ; 
 
 If any man aslt, who lies in this tomlje? 
 
 Oh! hoi quoth the devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe. 
 
 The sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man so severely, that he never forgave it. 
 These lines, however, or some which nearly resemble them, appeared in vanous collections, both before 
 and after the time they were said to have "been composed ; and the inquiries of Mr. Steevens and Mr. 
 Malone, satisfactorily prove that the whole story is a fabrication. Betterton is said to have heard it 
 when he visited Warwickshire on purpose to collect anecdotes of our poet, and probably thought it of 
 too much importance to be nicely examined. We know not whether it be worth adtling of a story 
 which we have rejected, that a vi-itrer in Shakspeare's time did not mean one who took exorbitant, but 
 any interest or usance for money, that ten in the hundred, or ten per cent., was then the ordinary in- 
 terest of money. It is of more consequence, however, to record the opinion of Mr. Malone, that Shaks- 
 peare, during his retirement, wrote the play of Twelfth Night. 
 
 He died on his birth-dav, Tuesday, April. 23. IGlii, when he had exactly completed his fifty-second 
 year,° and was buried on tiie north side of the chancel, in the great church at Stratford, where "a monu- 
 ment is placed in the wall, on which he is represented under an arch, in a sitting posture, a cushion 
 spread before him, with a jien in his right hand, and his left rested on a scroll of paper. The follow- 
 ing Latin distitch is engraved under the cushion : 
 
 Judicio Pylium, genio Socratem, arte Marouemy 
 Terra teglt^ pojtutus mteret Olympus kat/et. 
 
 " The first syllable in Socratem," says Mr. Steevens, " is here made short, wliioh cannot be allowed. 
 Perhaps we should read Sophoclem. Shakspeare is then appositely compared with a dramatic author 
 among the ancients ; but still it should be remembered, that thoeulogium is lessened while the metre is 
 reformed ; and it is well known, that some of our early writers of Latin poetry Avere uncommonly 
 negligent in their prosody, especially in proper names. The thought of this distich, as Mr. Toilet 
 observes, might have been taken from the Fafiry Queene of Spenser, B. ii, c. Lx, st. 48, and c. x, st. 3. 
 
 " To this Latin inscription on Shakspeare may be added the lines which are found underneath it on 
 his monument : 
 
 Stay, passenger, why dost thou go so fast? 
 lU-ad, if thou canst, whom envious death hath placed 
 Within this monument; Shakspeare, with whom 
 Quick nature died ; whose name doth deck the tomb 
 Far more than coat ; since all that he hath writ 
 Leaves living art but pag" to serve his wit, 
 
 Oliiit, Ano. Dni. lOlG. 
 
 ait. 53, die 23 Apri. 
 
 " It appears from the verses of Leonard Digges, that our author's monument w.as erected before the 
 year 1623. It has been engraved by Vertue, and done in mezzotinto by Miller." 
 On his grave-stone, underneath, are these lines, in an uncouth mixtiire of small and capital letters : 
 
 Good Friend for Icsus SAKE forbear 
 To dioo IE Dust EncloAsed IIEKe 
 
 Blese be T-E Man ^ spares TEs Stones 
 
 And curst be He moves my Bones. 
 
 It^ is uncertain whether this request and imprecation were written by Shakspeare, or by one of his 
 friends. They probably allude to the custom of removing skeletons after a certain time, and depositing 
 them in charnel-houses ; and similar execrations are found in many ancient Latin epitaplis. 
 
 We have no account of the malady which, at no very advanced age, closed the life and labors of this 
 unrivalled and incomparable genius. 
 
 Ilis family consisted of two daughters, and a son named Ilamnet, who died in 1596, in the twelfth 
 Tear of his age. Susannah, the eldest daughter, and her father's favorite, was married to Dr. Jolin 
 Hall, a physician, who died November. 1635, aged sixty. Mrs. Hall died July 11, 10-19. aged sixty- 
 six. Thoy left only one child, Eliz.abeth, born 1607-8,"and married April 22, 1620, to Thomas Nashe, 
 Esq., who died in 1647 ; and afterwards to Sir John Barnard, of Abington. in Northamptonshire ; but 
 died without issue by either husband. Judith, Shakspciire's youngest daughter, was married to a Jfr. 
 Thomas Quiney, ancl died February. 1661-62 in her seventy-seventh year. By Mr. Quiney she liad 
 three sons, Shakspeare, Richard, and Thomas, who all died unmarried. Sir Hugh Cloptnn, who was 
 bom two years after the death of Lady Barnard, which happened in 1669-70, related to Mr. Macklin, 
 in 1742, an old tradition, that she had carried away with her from Stratford, many of her grandfather's 
 jiapers. On the death of Sir John Barnard, Mr. Malone thinks these must have fallen into the hands 
 of Mr. Edward Bagley, Lady Barnard's executor ; and if any descendant of that gentleman be now 
 living, In his custody they probably remain. To this account of Shakspearc's family we have now to 
 add, that among Oldys's papers is 'another traditional gossip's story of his having been the father of 
 Sir William Davenant. Oldys's relation is thus given : 
 
 " If tradition may be trusted, Shakspeare often baited at the Crown Inn or Tavern in Oxford, in his 
 journey to and fi-om London. The landlady was a Woman of great beauty and sprightly wit. and her 
 husband, Mr. John Davenant. (afterwards mayor of that city,) a grave melancholy man ; who, as well 
 as Ills wife, used much to delight in Shakspearc's pleasant company. Their son, young Will. Davenant, 
 (afterwards Sir William,) was then a little school-boy in the town, of .about seven or eight yeare old, 
 and so fond also of Shakspeare, that whenever he heard of his arrival, he would fly from school to sea 
 
 * The only notice ve have of his person is from Aubrey, who says, '* he was a handsome well-shaped man;*' and 
 »dds, " verie good company, and of a vcrie ready, and pleasant and smooth wit." 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 him. Oqo {lay, an old townsman, observing the boy running homeward almost out of breath, askej 
 him whither he was posting in that heat and huri^. lie answered, to see his (/ud-futheT Shakspeare. 
 Thcre'3 a good boy, eaid the otlier, but have a care that you don't take God's name in vain. This 
 etory. Mr. Pope told me at thb Earl of Oxford's table, upon occasion of some discom-se which arosa 
 about Shakspeare's monument, tlien newly erected in Westminster Abbey." 
 
 This story appears to have originated with Antliony Wood, and it has been thought a presumption 
 of its being true, that, after careful e.xaraination, Mr. Thomas Warton was inclined to believe it. Mr. 
 Staevens, however, treats it with the utmost contempt ; but does not, perhaps, argue with his usual at- 
 tention to experience, when he brings Sir William Davenant'a " heavy, vulgar, unmeaning face," as a 
 proof that he could not be Shakspeare's son. 
 
 Ic the Tear 1741, a monument was erected to our poet in Westminster Abbey, bj the direction of the 
 Earl of Burlington, Dr. Mead. Mr. Pope, and Mr. Martyn. It was the work of beheemaker, (who re- 
 ceived £300 fur it.) after a design of Kent, and was opened in January' of that year. The performers 
 of each of the London theatres gave a benefit to defray the expenses, and the Dean and Chapter o. 
 Westminster took nothing for the ground. The money received by the performance at Drury Lane 
 theatre amounted to above £200, but the receipts at Covent Garden did not exceed £100. 
 
 From these imperfect notices, wliieh are all we have been able to collect from the laboi-s of liis biog- 
 raphers and commentators, our readers will perceive that less is known of Shakspeare than of almost 
 any writer who has been considered as an object of laudable curiosity. Kothing co\ild be more highly 
 gratifying than an account of the early studies of this wonderful man, the progress of liis pen, his 
 moral" and social qualities, his friendships, his failings, and whatever else constitutes personal history . 
 But on all these topics his contemporanes and his immediate successors have been equally silent, and 
 if aught can be hereafter disoovered, it must be by cicploring sources which have hitherto escaped tha 
 anxious researches of those who have devoted tlioir whole lives, and their most vigorous talents, to 
 revive his memory and illustrate liis writings. In the sketch we have given, if the dates of his birth 
 and death be excepted, what is there on which the reader can depend, or for which, if he contend 
 eagerly, he may not be involved in controversy, and perplexed with contradictory opinions and 
 authorities ? 
 
 It is usually said that the life of an author can be little else than a history of his works ; but this 
 opinion is liable to many exceptions. If an author, indeed, has passed his days in retirement, his life 
 can afford little more variety tlian that of any other man who has lived in retirement ; but if, as is 
 generally the case with writers of great celebrity, he has acquired a pre-eminence over Ms contempo- 
 raries, if lie has excited rival contentions, and defeated the attacks of criticism or of malignity, or if ho 
 has plunged into the controversies of his age, and performed the part either of a tyrant or a hero in 
 literature, his history may be rendered as interesting as that of any other public character. But what- 
 ever weight may be allowed to this remark, the decision will not be of much consequence in the case 
 of Shalcspeare. Unfortunately, we know as little of his writings as of liis personal history. The in- 
 dustry of his illustrators for the last thirty years has been such, as probably never was surpassed in 
 the annals of literary investigation ; yet so far are we from information of the conclusive or satisfactory 
 kind, that even the order in which his plays were written, rests principally on conjecture, and of some 
 plays usually printed among his works, it is not yet determined whether he wrote the whole, or acy 
 piart. 
 
 Much of our ignorance of every thing which it would bo desirable to know respecting Shakspeare's 
 works, must be imputed to the author himself. If we look merely at the state in which he left his pro- 
 ductions, we should bo apt to conclude, either that ho was insensible of their value, or that, Avliile he 
 was the greatest, he was at the same time the humblest writer the world ever produced — " that ho 
 thought his works unworthy of posterity — that ho levied no ideal tribute upon future times, nor had 
 any farther prospect, than tliat of present popularity and present profit.'" And such an opinion, al- 
 though it apparently partakes of the ease and looseness of conjecture, may not be fur from probability. 
 But before we allow it any higher merit, or attempt to decide upon the affection or neslcct with which 
 he reviewed his Libors, it may be necessary to consider their precise nature, and certain circumstances 
 in his situation wliich aftected them ; and, above all, we must take into our account the character and 
 predominant occupations of the times in which he lived, and of those which followed his decea.se. 
 
 With respect to himself, it does not appear that he printed any one of his plays, and only eleven of 
 them were printed in his lifetime. The reason assigned for this js, tliat he wrote them for a particular 
 theatre, sold them to the managers when only an actor, reserved them in manuscript when himself a 
 manager, and when ho disposed of his property in the theatre, they were still preserved in manuscript 
 to prevent their being acted bv the rival houses. Copies of some of them appear to have been surrep- 
 titiously obtained, and publislied in a very incorrect state ; but we may suppose, that it was wiser in 
 the author or managers to overlook this fraud, than publish a correct edition, and so destroy the ex- 
 clusive property they enjoyed. It is clear, tlierefore, that any publication of his plays by himself 
 would have interferred, at iii'st with his own interest, and afterwards with the interest of those to whom 
 he had made over his share in them. But even had tliis obstacle been removed, we are not sure that 
 he would have gained much by publication. If he had no other copies but those belonging to the 
 theatre, the business of correction for the press must have been a toil which we are afraid tlie taste of 
 the public at tliat time would have poorly rewarded. Wo know not the exact portion of fame he en- 
 joyed : it was probably the highest which dramatic genius could confer; but dramatic genius was a new 
 excellence, and not well understood. His claims were probably not lieard out of the jurisdiction of tho 
 master of the revels, certainly not beyond the metropolis. Yet such was Shalcspeare's reputation, that 
 we arc told his name was put to pieces which he never wrote, and that he felt himself too confident in 
 popular favor to undeceive the public. This was singular resolution in a man who wrote so unequally, 
 that at this d,ay, the test of internal evidence must be applied to his doubtful productions with tho 
 greatest caution. But still how far his character would have been elevated by an examination of his 
 plays in the closet, in an ago when tho refinements of criticism were not understood, and the sympathies 
 of tasto W'Ore seldom felt, may admit of a question. '' His language," says Dr. Johnson, " 7u4 being 
 desitjnfd for the i'eade?-'s desk, was all that he desired it to be if it conveyed his meaning to the audience.'* 
 Shakspeare died in 1616 ; and seven years afterwards appeared the first edition of his plays, published 
 at the charges of four booksellers, — a circumstance from which Mr. Malono infers, " that no single 
 publisher was at that time willing to risk his money on a complete collection of our autlior's plays." 
 This edition was printed from the copies in the hands of liis fellow-managers, Heminge and CondoU, 
 which had been m a series of years frequently altered through convenience, caprice, or ignorance. 
 
 'Dr. Johnson's Preface. 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 Ilemmge and Condell had now retired from the stage ; and, we may suppose, were guilty of no iujuir 
 to their successors, in printing what their own interest only had formerly withheld. Of this, although 
 we have no documents amounting to demonstration, we may be convinced, by adverting to a circum- 
 stance, which will, in our days, appear very extraordinary, namely, the declension of Shakspeare'a 
 popularity. "We have seen that the publication of his works was accounted a doubtful speculation ; 
 and it is yet more certain, that so much had the public taste turned from him in quest of variety, that 
 for several years after his death the plays of Fletcher were more frequently acted than his, and during 
 the whole of the seventeenth century, they were made to give place to performances, the greater fart 
 of which cannot now be endured. During the same period, only four editions of his worl^ were pub- 
 lished, all in folio ; and perhaps this unwieldly size of volume may be an additional proof that they 
 were not popular ; nor is it thought that the impressions were numerous. 
 
 These circumstances which attach to our .author and to his works, must be allowed a plausible weight 
 in accounting for our dcflciences in his biography and literary career ; but there were circumstances 
 enough in the history of the times to suspend the progress of that more regular drama of which he 
 had set the example, and may be considered as the founder. If we wonder why we know so much 
 less of Shakspeare than of IJis conteioporaries, let us recollect that his genius, however highly and 
 justly we now rate it, took a direction wliich was not calculated for permanent admiration, either in 
 the age in which he lived, or in that which followed. Shakspeare was a writer of plays, a promoter of 
 an amusement just ernergin^ from barbarism ; and an amusement which, although it has been classed 
 among the schools of morality, has ever had such a strong tendency to deviate from moral purposes, 
 that the force of law has, in all ages, been called in to preserve it witliin the bounds of common decency. 
 The Church has ever been unfriendly to the stage. Apart of the injunctions of Queen Elizabeth is 
 j)articularly ciirected against the printing of plays ; and, according to an entry in the books of the 
 btationers' Company, in the forty-first year of her reign, it is ordered, that no plays be printed, except 
 allowed by persons in authority. Dr. Farmer also remarks, that in that age, poetry and novels were 
 destroyed publicly by the bishops, and privately by the puritans. The main transactions, indeed, of 
 that period, could not admit of much attention to matters of amusement. The Reformation required 
 all the circumspection and poHcy of a long reign to render it so firmly established in popular favor as 
 to brave the caprice of any succeeding sovereign. This was eft'ected, in a great measure, by the diffusion 
 ofreliffious controversy, which was encouraged by the Church, and especially by the puritans, who 
 were the immediate teachers of the lower classes, were listened to with veneration, and usually inveighed 
 against all public amusements, as inconsistent with the Christian profession. These controversies con- 
 tinued during the reign of James I, and were, in a considerable degree, promoted by him, although ho, 
 like Elizabeth, was a favorer of the stage, as an appeudase to the grandeur and pleasures of the Court. 
 But the commotions which followed in the unhappy reign of Cliarles I, when the stage was totally 
 abolished, are sutiicient to account for the oblivion tlirown on the history and works of our great bard. 
 From this time, no inquiry was made, until it was too late to olitain any information more satisfac- 
 tory, than the few hearsay scraps and contested traditions above detailed. " How little," says Mr. 
 Steevens, " Shakspeare was once read, may be understood from Tate, who, in his dedication to the al- 
 tered play of King Lear, speaks of the original as an obscure piece, recommended to his notice by a 
 friend ; and the author of the Tatler having occasion to quote a few lines out of Macbeth, was content 
 to receive them from D'Avenant's alteration of that celebrated drama, in which almost every original 
 beauty is either awkwardly disguised, or arbitrarily omitted."* 
 
 In fifty years after his death, Dryden mentions that he was then become " a little obsolete." In the 
 beginning of the last century, Lord Shaftesbuiy complains of his " rude unpolished style, and his an- 
 tiquated phrase and wit." It is certain, that for nearly a hundred years after his death, partly owing to 
 the immediate revolution and rebellion, and partly to the licentious taste encouraMd in Ciiarlcs II's 
 time, and perhaps partly to the incorrect state of 'his works, he was almost entirely neglected. Mr. 
 Malone has justly remarked, " that if he had been read, admired, studied, and imitatedj'in the same 
 degree as he is now, the enthusiasm of some one or otlier of his admirers in tho last age would hava 
 induced him to make some inquiries concerning the histoi-y of his theatrical career, and the anecdotes 
 of his private life."* 
 
 His admirei-s, however, if he had admirers in that age, possessed no portion of such enthusiasm. 
 That curiosity, which in our days has raised biography to the rank of an independent study, was scarcely 
 known, and where known, confined principally to the public transactions ot eminent chaVactcrs. And 
 if, in addition to the circumstances already stated, we consider how little is known of the personal 
 history of Shakspeare's contemporaries, we may easily resolve the question, why, of all men that havo 
 ever claimed admiration by genius, wisdom, or valor, who have eminently contributed to enlarge the 
 taste, promote the happiness, or increase the reputation of their country, we know the least of Shaks- 
 peare : aud why, of the few particulars which seem entitled to credit, when simply related, and in which 
 there is no manifest violation of probability, or promise of importance, there is scarcely one which has 
 not swelled into a controversy. After a careful examination of all that modern research has discovered, 
 we know not how to trust our curiosity beyond the limits of those barren dates whiili afford no personal 
 history. The nature of Shakspeare's writings prevents that appeal to internal evidence, which in other 
 cases has been found to throw lijrht on character. The purity of his morals, for example, if sought in 
 his plays, must be measured against the licentiousness of his language, and tlie question will then be, 
 how much did he write from conviction, and how much to gratify the taste of his hearers? How much 
 did he add to the age. and how much did he borrow from it? Pope says, "he was obliged to p'lease 
 the lowest of the people, and to keep the worst of company;" and Pope might have said more : for al- 
 though we hope it was not true, we have no means of proving that it was false. 
 
 The only life v\hich has been prefixed to all the editions of Shakspeare of the eighteenth century, is 
 that drawn up by Mr. Kowe, and winch he modestly calls, " Some Account," &c. In this we liavo 
 what Eowe could collect when every legitimate source of information was closed, a few traditions that 
 were floating nearly a century after the author's death. Some inaccuracies in his account have been 
 detected in the valuable notes of Mr. Steevens and Mr. Malone, who, in other parts of their respective 
 editions, have scattered a few brief notices which we have incorporated in the present sketch. The 
 whole, however, is unsatisfactory. Shiikspeare, in his private character, in liis friendships, in his amuse- 
 ments, in his closet, in his family, is no where before us ; and such was the nature of tho writings on 
 which his fame depends, and of that employment in which he was engaged, that being in no important 
 respect connected with the history of his age, it is in vain to look into tho latter for any information 
 concerning him. 
 
 ^Mr. gteovens's Advertisement to the Reader, first printed in 1773. 
 •Mr. Walone'a Preface to his edition. 1790. 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPE-AliE. 
 
 Mr. CapcU is of opinion, that he wTote some prose works, because " it can hardly be supposed that 
 he, who had so considerable a share in the confidence of the Earls of Essex and Southampton, could be 
 t. mute spectator only of sontroversies in which they were so much interested." This editor, however, 
 appears to have taken for granted, a degree of confidence with these two statesmen, which he ou^lit first 
 to have proved. Shakspeare might have enjoyed the confidence of their social hours ; but it is mere 
 conjecture that they admitted him into the confidence of their state alfairs. Mr. Malone, whose opin- 
 ions are ectitled tj a higher degree of credit, thinks that his prose compositions, if they should ba 
 discovered, would exhibit the same perspicuity, the same cadence, the same elegance and vigor, which 
 we find in his plays. It is unfortunate, howe'ver, for all wishes and all conjectures, that not a line ot 
 Shakspeare's manuscript is known to exist, and his prose writing are no where hinted at. We have 
 only printed copies of his plays and poems, and thos^so depraved by carelessness or ignorance, that all 
 tlie" labor of all his commentators has not yet been able to restore them to a probable purity. Many 
 of the greatest difficulties .attending the perasal of them, yet remain, and will require, what it is scarcely 
 possible to expect, greater sagacity and more happy conjecture than have hitherto been employed. 
 
 Of his Poems, it is perhaps necessary, that some notice should be taken, although they have never 
 been favorites with the public, and have seldom been reprinted with his plays. Shiatly after his death, 
 Mr. Malone informs us, a very incorrect impression of them was issued out, which in every sub.sequeut 
 edition was implicitly followed, until he published a corrected edition in 17S0 with illustrations, <fce. But 
 
 ers into their service. Had Shakspeare produced no other works than these, his name would have 
 reached us with as little celebrity as time has conferred on that of Thomas Watson, an older and much 
 more elegant sonnetteer." 
 
 The elegant preface of Dr. Johnson gives an account of the attempts made in the early part of the 
 last century to revive the memory and reputation of otir poet, by Rowe, Pope, Theobald, llanmer, and 
 ■Warburton, whose respective merits he has characterized with candor, and with singular felicity of ex- 
 pression. Shakspeare's works may be overloaded with criticism, for ■« hat writer has e.xcitcd so much 
 curiosity, and so many opinions? but Johnson's preface is an accompaniment worthy of the geniu^-i^it 
 celebrates. His own edition followed in 1765 ; and a second, in conjunction with Mr. Stcevens, in 1T73. 
 The third edition of the joint editors appeared in 17S5, the fourth in 17^3, and the last and most com- 
 plete, in 1S03, in twenty-one volumes octavo. Mr. Malone's edition was published in 17'J0, in ten 
 volumes, crown octavo, and is now become exceedingly scarce. His original notes and improvements, 
 however, are incorporated in the editions of 1798 and 1S03, by Mr. Stcevens. Mr. Malone says, that 
 "from the year 1716 to the date of his edition in 1790,— that is, in seventy-four years, above 30,000 
 copies of Shalvspeare have been dispei-sed through England." Among the honors paid_ to his genius, we 
 ought not to forget the very magnificent edition un(5ertaken by Messrs. Boydell. Still less ought it to 
 be forgotten how much the reputation of Shakspeare was revive! by the unrivalled excellence of Gar- 
 rick's performance. His share in directing the public taste towards the study of Shakspeare was, per- 
 haps, greater than that of any individual m his time, and such was his zeal, and such his success, in 
 this laudable attempt, that he may readily be forgiven the foolish mummery of the Stratford Jubilee. 
 
 When public opinion had begun to assign to Shakspeare the very high rank he was destined to hold, 
 he became the promising object of fraud and imposture. This, we have already observed, he did not 
 wholly escape in his own time, and he had the spirit or policy to despise it.' It was reserved for modern 
 impostors, however, to avail themselves of the obscurity in which his history is involved. In 1751, a 
 book was published, entitled, " A Compendious or briete examination of certayue ordinary Complaints 
 of diuers of our Countrymen in those our days : which, although they are in some Parte unjust and 
 frivolous, yet are they all by way of dialogue t'hroushly debated and discussed by William Shakspeare, 
 Gentleman." This had been originally published in"l5Sl ; but Ur. Farmer has clearly proved that 
 IF. S., gent., the only authority for attributing it to Shakspeare is the reprinted edition, meant }y-iUiam 
 Stufora, gent. Theobald, the same accurate critic informs us. was desirious of palming upon the world 
 a play called "Double Falsehood," for a posthumous one of Shakspeare. In 1770, was reprinted at 
 Feversham, an old play called " The Tragedy of Arden of Feversham and Black Will," with a prelate 
 attributing it to Shakspeare, without the~smallcst foundation. But these were trifles compared to the 
 atrocious attempt made in 1795-6, when, besides a vast mass of prose and verse, letters, &e., preteiid- 
 edly in the liandwriting of Shakspeare and his correspondents, an entire play, entitled Votigern, Mas 
 not only brought forward for the astonishment of the admirers of Shakspeare, but actually performed 
 on Drury Lane stage. It would be unnecessary to expatiate on the merits of this play, which _Mr. 
 Stcevens h,as very hapily characterized as '-the jicrformance of a madman without a lucid interval," or 
 to enter more atlarge into the nature of a fraud so recent, and so soon acknowledged by the authors 
 of it. It produced, however, an interesting controversy between Mr. Malone and Mr. George Chalmers, 
 which, although mixed with some unpleasant asperilies, was extended to inquiries into the history and 
 antiquities of "the stage, from which future critics and historians may derive considerable information. 
 
 ' Mr. Malone has given a list of fourteen plays ascrihcd to Shakspe.are. either by the editors of the two later 
 fclios, or by the compilers of ancient catalogues. Of these Pericles has fouuJ aJvocatcs for its admission into 
 his works 
 
TEMPEST. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Ar.osso, King nf Naples. 
 
 SEBiSTiAif, /lis brother. 
 
 PiiosPEiio, the rightful Duke of Milan. 
 
 AxTONio, his brdthtr, the usurping DukenfMilsn. 
 
 KEnniNANU, son to the King of Naples. 
 
 GoxzALO, an hojicst old Counsellor of Naples. 
 
 ADRIAX, ]L^rdS. 
 
 FnAXCisco,J 
 
 C.iiiBAN, a savage and deformed Slave. 
 TnixcuLo, (r Jester. 
 Stephano, a drunken Butler. 
 Master of a Ship, Boatswain, and Mariners. 
 
 Miranda, Daughter to Prospero. 
 
 AniEL, an airy Spirit. 
 
 Inis, ~| 
 
 Ceres, I 
 
 Juno, > Spirits. 
 
 NyntphSy ) 
 
 Reapers, J 
 
 Other Spirits attending on Prospero- 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — On a ship at sea. 
 A Storm with thunder and lightning. 
 Enter a SI]ip-master and a Boatswain. 
 
 Master. Boatswain, — 
 
 Boats. Here, master : what cheer f 
 
 Master. Good: Speak to the mariners: fall tq't 
 yarelyi, or we run ourselves asround : bestir, bestir. 
 
 [Ex-it. 
 Enter Mariners. 
 
 Boats. Hei^h, my hearts; chcerly, chccrly, my 
 hearts ; yare, y are : Talie in the top-sail; Tend to 
 the master's whistle. — Blow till tliou burst thy 
 wind, if room enou?;h ! 
 
 Enter Aloxso, SEnASTiAjf, Antonio, Fcnni- 
 NANii, GoNZAio, and others. 
 
 Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the 
 master] Play the men. 
 
 Boats. I pray now, keep below. 
 
 .4/*/. Whore is the master, boatswain 1 
 
 Boats. Do you not liear him '! You mar our 
 labor! keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. 
 
 Gon. Nay', pood, be patient. 
 
 Boata. When tlie sea is. Hence! What care 
 these roarers for the name of king] To cabins: 
 silence : Trouble us not. 
 
 Con. Good; yet remember whom thou hast 
 aboard. 
 
 Boats. None that I more love than myself. — 
 You are a counsellor; if you can command these 
 elements to silence, and work the peace of the 
 present*, we will not hand a rope more; use voiu" 
 authority; If you cannot, i:ive thanks you liave 
 lived so lon^, and malce yourself ready in your 
 cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. — 
 Cheerly, good hearts. — Out of our way, I say. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Gnn. I have frreat comfort from this fellow ; 
 
 metliinks he hath no drowning: mark upon him: 
 
 his complexion i? perfect i^allows. Stand fast, sood 
 
 ftite to his hani^iug ! make tlic rope of his destiny 
 
 ' Keadily, * Present instant. 
 
 our cable, for our own doth little advantage ! If ho 
 be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Boatswain. 
 
 Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lewer, 
 
 lower; bring her to try with main course. \A cry 
 
 within.] A plaiiue upon this howling! they uro 
 
 louder than the weather, or our olhce. — 
 
 Re-enter Peiiastian, Antonio, and Gonzai.o, 
 Yet again 7 what do you here '. Shall we give o'er 
 and drown T Have you a mind to sink 1 
 
 Seh. A pox o' your throat! you bawling, blas- 
 phemous, uncharitable dog! 
 
 Bouts. Work you, then. 
 
 Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent 
 noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned tlian 
 thou art. 
 
 Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning ; though 
 the shi]) were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as 
 leaky as an unstaunched' wench. 
 
 Boats. I. ay her a-hold. a-hold ; set her two 
 courses; oft' to sea again, lay her olT. 
 
 Enter Mariners, wet. 
 Mar. All lost! to praj'ers, to prayers! all lost! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Boats. What, must onr mouths be cold] 
 Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let ua 
 assist them. 
 For our case is as theirs. 
 Self. 1 am out of patience. 
 Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by 
 drunkards. — 
 This wide-chapped rascal ; — 'Would thou mightst 
 
 lie drowning 
 The washing often tides! 
 
 Gon. ' He'll bo hanged yet, 
 
 Though every drop of water swear against it, 
 And gape at'wid'st to glut him. 
 [A conjused noise H-itkin.] Mercy on us! — We 
 split, \ve split! Farewell, my wife and children ! — 
 Farewell, brotlier ! — We split, we split, w'C split. — 
 « Incontinent. * Absolutely. 
 
12 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Ant. Let's all sink with the king. [Exit- 
 
 Seb, Let's take leave of him. [Exit. 
 
 Goii. Now would 1 give a thousand furloiii;s of 
 
 fei for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown 
 
 furx»% any thing; the wills above be done! but 1 
 
 would fain die a dry death. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— The island .- bvfure the celt of Pnos- 
 PF.I10. Eater PuosrERo anil Miranda. 
 
 Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 Put the wild waters in this roar, allay tliem : 
 Tiie sky, it seems, woud pour down stinking pitch, 
 But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, 
 Dashes the fire out. o, 1 have suflerd 
 Witli those tiiat I saw suili^r! a brave vessel. 
 Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, 
 Dash'd all to pieces, n, the cry did knock 
 Against my very heart ! Poor souls ! they perish'd. 
 Had I been any god of power, I would 
 Have sunk the sea withui the earth, or e'er 
 It should the good ship so have swallow'd, ar.d 
 The freighting souls within her. 
 
 pro. Be collected; 
 
 No more amazement; tell your piteous heart, 
 There's no harm done. 
 
 Mira. O, woe the day ! 
 
 Pro. No harm. 
 
 I have done nothing but in care of thee, 
 (Of thee, my dear one ! thee my daughter !) who 
 Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 
 t If whence I am ; nor that I am more better 
 Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell. 
 And thy no greater father. 
 
 Mini. More to know 
 
 Did never meddle with my thouglits. 
 
 Pi-o. 'Tis time 
 
 I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand. 
 And pluck my magic garment from me. — .So ; 
 
 [Lai/s ilmvn his mantle. 
 Lie there, my art. — Wipe thou thine eyes ; have 
 
 eomtbrt. 
 The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd 
 The very virtue of compassion in thee, 
 1 have with such provision in mine art 
 .So safely order'd, that there is no soul — 
 No, not so much perdition as a hair. 
 Betid to any creature in the vessel 
 Which thou hcard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. 
 
 Sit down; 
 For thou must now know further. 
 
 Mira. You have often 
 
 P,egun to tell me what I am ; but stopp'd 
 And left me to a bootless inquisition; 
 Concluding, Ulaij, not yet.— 
 
 Pro. The hour's now come ; 
 
 The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; 
 Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember 
 A time before we came unto this cell ! 
 I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not 
 Outs three years old, 
 
 Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. 
 
 Pro. I'y what ] by any other house, or person T 
 01 any thing the image tell me, that 
 Hath kept with thy remembrance. 
 
 Mira. 'Tis far off, 
 
 And rather like a dream than an assurance. 
 That my remembrance warrants ; had 1 not 
 Four or'five women once, that tended me ] 
 
 Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: but how 
 is it. 
 That this lives in thy mindl What seest thou else 
 In the dark backward and abysm of time! 
 I f thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here, 
 Ilow thou cam'st here, thou may'st. 
 
 Mira. But that I do not. 
 
 Pro. Twelve years since, 
 Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was 
 The duke of Milan, and a prince of power. 
 
 Mira. Sir, are not you my father f 
 
 Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and 
 She said — thou wast my daughter : and thy father 
 Was duke of Milan ; and his only heir 
 A princess ; — no worse issued. 
 
 Mira. O, the heavens ! 
 
 What foul play had we, that we came from thence ? 
 Or blessed wast we did ! 
 
 Pro. Both, both, my girl. 
 
 By foul play, as thou say'st, were we hcav'd thence; 
 But blessedly liolp hitlier. 
 
 » Quite. 
 
 Mira. 0, my heart bleeds 
 
 To think o' the teen" tliat I have turn'd you to, 
 Which is from my remembrance I Please you fur- 
 ther. 
 
 Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, eall'd Antonio, 
 I pray thee, mark me, — that a brother should 
 He so perfidious ! — he whom, next thyself. 
 Of all the world I lov'd, and to htm put 
 The manage of my slate ; as, at that time, 
 Through all the signiories it was the first, 
 And Prospero the prime duke ; being so reputed 
 In dignity, and, for the liberal arts. 
 Without a pamllel ; those being all my study. 
 The government I cast upon my brother, 
 And to my state grew stranger, being transported. 
 And wrapt in secret studies, 'i'hy false micle — 
 Dost thou attend me 1 
 
 Mira. Sir, most heedfully. 
 
 Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits, 
 How to deny them ; whom to advance, and whom 
 To trash^ for over-topping; new created 
 The creatures that were mine ; 1 say, or chang'd 
 
 them. 
 Or else new-form'd them: having both the key 
 Of officer and olTice, set all hearts 
 To what tune pleas'd his ear ; that now he was 
 The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, 
 And suck'd my verdure out on't. — I'hou attend's. 
 
 not; 
 I pray thee mark me. 
 
 Mira. O good sir, I do. 
 
 Pro. I thus neglecting worldly en<is, all dedicate 
 To closeness, and the bettering of my mind 
 With that, which, hut by being so retir'd, 
 O'er-priz'd all popular rate, iii my false brother 
 Awak'd an evil nature ; and my trust. 
 Like a good parent, did beget of him 
 A falseliood, in its contrary as great 
 As my trust was ; which had, indeed, no limit, 
 A confidence sans bound. He bein:r thus lorded. 
 Not only with what my revenue yielded. 
 But what my power might else exact, — like one 
 Who. having unto truth, by telling of it, 
 Made such a sinner of his memory. 
 To credit his own lie, — he did believe 
 He was the duke; out of the substitution. 
 And executing the outward face of royalty, 
 With all pr<!rogative : — Hence his ambition 
 Growing, — dost hear 1 
 
 Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness 
 
 Pro. To have no screen between this part he 
 play'd 
 And him he play'd it for, he needs will be 
 Absolute Milan; Me, poor man! — my library 
 Was dukedom large enough; of temporal royalties 
 He thinl^s me now incapable: confederates 
 (So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples, 
 To give him annual tribute, do him homage; 
 Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend 
 The' dukedom, yet unbow'd (alas, poor Milan!) 
 To most ignoble stooping. 
 
 Mira. the heavens ! 
 
 Pro. Mark his condition, and the event ; then 
 tell me. 
 If this might be a brother. 
 
 Mira. I should sin 
 
 To think but nobly of my grandmother: 
 Good wombs have borne bad sons. 
 
 Pro. Now the condition. 
 
 This king of Naples, being an enemy 
 To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit ; 
 Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises, — 
 or homage, and I know not how much tribute, — 
 Should presently extirpate me and mine 
 Onl of the dukedom; and confer firir Milan, 
 With all the honors, on my brother. Whereon, 
 A tre.aclierous army levied, one midnight 
 Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open 
 The gates of Milan; and i' the dead of darkness, 
 The ministers for the purpose hurried thence 
 Me, and thy crying self. 
 
 Mira. Alack, for pity! 
 
 I, not remenib'ring how I cried out then. 
 Will cry it o'er again, it is a hint, 
 That wrings mine eyes. 
 
 Prn. Hear a little further, 
 
 And then I'll brins thee to the present businesii 
 Which now's upon us; without the which, thu 
 story 
 Sorrow. ' Cut away. 
 
Scene IL 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 13 
 
 Vrcre most impertinent. 
 
 ^fira. Wlierefore did they not 
 
 That hour destroy us 7 
 
 j'ro. Well demanded, wench ; 
 
 My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst 
 
 not; 
 (So dear tile love my people hore nic) nor set 
 A niarl^ so bloody on the business; but 
 With colors fairer painted their foul ends. 
 In few, they hurried us aboard a burli. 
 Bore us some leagues to sea; wliere tliey prepar'd 
 A rotten carcass of a boat, not riirs'd, 
 Nor tactile, sail, nor mast; llie very rats 
 instinctively had quit it : there they hoist us, 
 To cry to tile sea that roar'ri to us ; to sigh 
 To the winds, whose pity, siijhiiis back again, 
 Did us but loving wrong. 
 
 J\Iira. .^lack ! what trouble 
 
 Was 1 then to you ! 
 
 Pro. O ! a cherubim 
 
 Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst 
 
 smile. 
 Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 
 When 1 have decked the sea with drops full salt; 
 Under my burden groaiiM; which rais'd in me 
 An undergoinir stomach*, to bear up 
 Against what should ensue. 
 
 Mtrct. How came we ashore ? 
 
 Pro. By Providence divine. 
 Some food we had. and some fresli water, that 
 A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 
 Out of his charity (who being then appointed 
 Master of this design) did give us; with 
 Kich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, 
 Which since have steaded much ; so, of his gentle- 
 ness. 
 Knowing 1 lov'd my books, he furnished me, 
 Kroai niy own library, with volumes tliat 
 1 prize above my dukedom. 
 
 Mira. 'Would I might 
 
 But ever see that man ! 
 
 Pro. Now I arise : — 
 
 Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 
 Here in tliis island we arriv'd; and iicre 
 Have I, thy sclioolmaster, made thee' more profit 
 Than oilier princes can, that have more time 
 For vainer liours, and tutors not so carel'ul. 
 
 Mira. Heavens thank you fort! And now I 
 pray you, sir, 
 (For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason 
 For raising this sea-storm ! 
 
 Pi-o. Know thus far forth. — 
 
 By accident most strange, bountiful fortune, 
 Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 
 Brought to this shore: and by my prescience 
 I find my zenith doth depend upon 
 A most auspicious star ; whose iiiOuence 
 If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes 
 Will ever after droop. — Here cease more ques- 
 tions ; 
 Thou art inclin'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulness, 
 And give it way ; — I know thou canst not choose. — 
 IMiHAXDA steeps. 
 Come away, servant, come : I am ready now : 
 Approacli, my Ariel ; come. 
 
 Enter Abiel. 
 
 Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I 
 come 
 To answer thy best pleasure ; be't to fly, 
 To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride 
 On the curl d cloutls; to thy strong bidding, task 
 Ariel, and all his quality. 
 
 Pro. Hast thou, spirit, 
 
 Pcrform'd to point* the tempest that I bade thee 1 
 
 Ari. To every article. 
 I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, 
 Now in the waist, tlic deck, in every cabin, 
 I flamed amazement: Sometimes I'd divide. 
 And burn in many places; on the top-mast, 
 The yards, and bowsprit, would I fiame distinctly. 
 Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, tlie pre- 
 cursors 
 O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
 And sight-outrunning were not : The tire, and 
 
 cracks 
 Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune 
 Seem'd to besiege, and malve his bold waves tremble, 
 « Stubborn resolution. • The minutest article. 
 
 Vea, his dread trident shake. 
 
 I'ro. My brave spirit ! 
 
 Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil' 
 Would not infect his reason ! 
 
 A ri. Not a soul 
 
 Bui lelt a fever of the mad, and play'd 
 Sonic tricks of desperation : .-Ml, but mariners, 
 Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, 
 Then" all a-flre with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, 
 Willi hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,) 
 Was the first man that leap'd: cried, }ltit ts empty, 
 Ami all the devils are liere. 
 
 Pro. Why, tliat s my spirit ! 
 
 But was not this nigh shore ] 
 
 Art. Close by, my master. 
 
 Pro. But are tliey, Ariel, safe ! 
 
 Ari. Not a hair perish'd ; 
 
 On their sustaining garments not a blemish, 
 But fresher than before ; and, as thou bad'st me, 
 In troops 1 have dispers'd them 'bout the isle: 
 The king's son I have landed by himself; 
 Whom Tleft cooling of the air with siglis, 
 III an odd angle of llie isle, and sitting. 
 His arms in this sad knot. 
 
 Pro. Of the king's ship, 
 
 The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd. 
 And all the rest o' the tlect ! 
 
 Ari. Safely in harbor 
 
 Is the king's ship ; in the deep nook, where once 
 Tliou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 
 From the still-vex'd Bermootlies^, there she's hid : 
 Tlie manners all under hatches stowd; 
 Whom, with a churm join'd to their sull'er'd labor, 
 I have lel\ asleep : and for the rest o' llie lleet. 
 Which 1 dispers'd, they all have met again: 
 Aim are upon the Mediterranean llole^ 
 Bound sadly home for Naples ; 
 Sujiposmg thai they saw tlie king's ship wreck'd, 
 And his great person perish. 
 
 Pro. Ariel, thy charge 
 
 Kxactly is perform'd; but there's more work: 
 What IS the time o' the day ! 
 
 Ari. Past the mid season. 
 
 Pro. At least two glasses : The time 'twixt six 
 and now, 
 JIust by us both be spent most preciously. 
 
 Ari. Is there more toU 1 Since thou dost give me 
 pains, 
 Let me remember thee what thou hast proinis'd. 
 Which is not yet perform'd me. 
 
 i^ro. How now ! moody 1 
 
 What is't thou canst demand ? 
 
 Ari. Jly liberty. 
 
 Pro. Before the time be outi no more. 
 
 Ari. 1 pray tliee 
 
 Remember, I have done thee worthy service ; 
 Ti Id thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd 
 Witliout or grudge or grumblings; thou didst 
 
 promise 
 To bate me a full year. , 
 
 Pro. Dost thou forget 
 
 From what a torment I did free thee ! 
 
 Aru No. 
 
 Pro. Thou dost ; and think'st 
 It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep ; 
 To run upon the sharp wind of the north ; 
 To do me business in the veins o' the earth. 
 When it is bak'd with frosU 
 
 Ari. I do not, sir. 
 
 Pro. Thou licst, malignant thing ! Hast tliou 
 forgot 
 The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, 
 Was grown into a hoop ! hast thou forgot her ! 
 
 Ari. No, sir. 
 
 Pro. Thou hast : where was she born ' 
 
 sjjeak; tell me. 
 
 Ari. Sir, in .\rgier'. 
 
 Pro. O, was she sol I must, 
 
 tlnce in a month, recount what thou hast been, 
 Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, 
 For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible 
 To enter human hearing, from Argief, 
 Thou know 'st, wasbanish'd; for one thing she did. 
 They would not take her life : is not this true 'i 
 
 Ari. Ay, sir. 
 
 Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with 
 child. 
 And here w as left by the sailors : Thou, my slave, 
 t Bustle, tnmult. aBt-rmudas. s Wave. *.tl5ier3. 
 
14 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 As thou rcporfst thyself, was then her servant : 
 
 And, for tliou wast a spirit too delicate 
 
 To act her earthly and abhorr'd commands. 
 
 Refusing lier graiid hests', she did confine thee, 
 
 By help of her more potent ministers, 
 
 And ill her most unmitifiable rage, 
 
 Into a cloven pine ; within which rift 
 
 Imprison'd, thou didst painfully remain 
 
 A dozen years; within wliich space she died. 
 
 And left thee there ; where thou did'st vent thy 
 
 fcroans. 
 As fast as mill-wheels strike : Then was this island 
 (Save for the son that she did litter here, 
 A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honor'd with 
 A human shape. 
 
 Ai-i. Yes; Caliban her son. 
 
 Pin. Dull thing, 1 say so ; he, that Caliban, 
 Whom now 1 keep in service. Thou best know'st 
 What torment I did find thee in : thy groans 
 Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts 
 f)f ever-angry bears : it was a torment 
 To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax 
 Could not again undo ; it was mine art, 
 When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape 
 The pine, and let tliec out. 
 
 Jn. I thank thee, master. 
 
 Prn. If thou more mnrmurst. I will rend an oak. 
 And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till 
 Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. 
 
 Ari. Pardon, master : 
 
 I will be correspondent to command, 
 And do my spriting gently. 
 
 J'rn. Do so ; and after two daj's 
 
 I will discharge thee. 
 
 Ari. That's my noble master ! 
 
 \Vhat shall I do 7 say, what 7 what shall 1 do "! 
 
 Pro. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea; 
 Be subject to no sight but mine ; invisible 
 To every eye-ball else. Go take this sliape. 
 And hitiier come in't : hence, with diligence. 
 
 [Ej-i/ AniF.L. 
 Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ; 
 Awake ! 
 
 Mird. The strangeness of your story put 
 Heaviness in me. 
 
 pro. Shake it off: Come on, 
 
 \Ve'lI visit Caliban, my slave, who never 
 Yields us kind answers. 
 
 Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir, 
 
 I do not love to look on. 
 
 Pro. But, as 'tis. 
 
 We cannot miss him: he does make our fire. 
 Fetch in our wood ; and serves in offices 
 That profit us. What ho ! slave ! Caliban, 
 Thou earth, thou! speak. 
 
 Cul. I IVifhin.] There's wood enough within. 
 
 Pro. Come forth, I say : there's other business 
 for thee : 
 Come forth, thou tortoise ! when'! 
 
 Re-enter Atiif.l like a ical er-nymph. 
 Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, 
 Hark in thine ear. 
 Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil 
 liimself 
 Upon thy wicked dam, come forth ! 
 
 Enter Calip.as. 
 
 Col. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd 
 \Vitii raven's feather from unwholesome i^n^ 
 Plop on you botli ! a snuth-wcst blow on ye. 
 Anil blister you all o'er ! 
 
 Pro. For 'this, be sure, to-night thou shall have 
 cramps, 
 Side-stiches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins" 
 Shall, for that vast of ni-lit that they may work, 
 All exercise on thee : tliou shall be pincli'd 
 As thick as honey-combs, each pincli more stinging 
 'Than bees that hiade them. 
 
 Ciil. I must eat my dinner. 
 
 This island's mine, by Sycorax, my mother. 
 Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest 
 
 first. 
 Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; 
 
 w^uldst give me 
 Water with berries in't ; and teach me how 
 To name the bigger light, and how the less, 
 That bum by day and night ; and then I loved thee, 
 I Commands. = Faries. 
 
 And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, 
 
 The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and 
 
 fertile ; 
 Cursed be I that did so ; — all the charms 
 Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! 
 For 1 am all tlie subjects that you have. 
 Which first was mine own king; and here rou sty me 
 In this hard rock, whiles you do keep f ■lii. me 
 The rest of the island. 
 
 Pro. Thou most lying slave, 
 
 Whom stripes may move, not kindness ! I have us'd 
 
 tlice. 
 Filth as tliou art, with human care ; and lodg'd thee 
 In mine own cell, till thou did'st seek to violate 
 The honor of my child. 
 
 Cat. n ho, (1 ho ! — 'would it had l)een done' 
 Thou did'st prevent me; I had peopled else 
 This isle with Calibans. 
 
 Pro. Abhorred slave ; 
 
 Which any print of goodness will not take. 
 Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee. 
 Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each 
 
 hour 
 One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage. 
 Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like 
 A thing most brutish, 1 endow'd thy purposes 
 With words that made them known : But thy vile 
 
 race, 
 Thougli thou didst leam, had that in't which good 
 
 natures 
 Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou 
 Deservedly coufin'd into this rock, 
 Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison. 
 
 Cat. 'Vou taught me language; and my profit on't 
 Is, I know how tn curse : the red plague rid' you, 
 For learning me your language ! 
 
 Pro. Hag-seed, hence! 
 
 Fetch us in fuel : and be quick, thou wcrt best. 
 To answer other business; Shrug'st thou, malice ■! 
 If thou neglect' St, or dost unwillingly 
 What T command, I'll rack thee with old cramps ; 
 Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar. 
 That beasts shall tremble at thy din. 
 
 Cut. N"! pray thee ! — 
 
 I must obey : his art is of such power {Aside. 
 
 It would control my dam's god, Setebos, 
 And make a vassal of him. 
 
 Pro, So, slave; hence ! 
 
 [Exit Caliban. 
 
 Re-enter Anir.T., invUihle, playing and singing; 
 Y^.n-Biif i.'STi following him. 
 AniKL's Song. 
 Come vnto thrne yellow sands 
 
 And /hen lake hands : 
 Court'sied irhen yon hare^ and kissed, 
 
 (Thr irtld H'Oi'es wlmt') 
 Foot it feathi here and there ; 
 And, street s/in'/c.v, the burden bear. 
 
 Uark.hiirk! ,j. j, 
 
 Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. \dispcrsedly 
 
 The u-nlch-dngts hork : 
 Bur. BowL'h, wowgh. [dispersedli/. 
 
 Hnrk, horlc .' I hear 
 The strain nf .stnitting chanticlere 
 Cm, eock-a-dnodle-elo. 
 Fer. 'Where should this music bel i' the air, or 
 tlie earth 1 
 It sounds no more : — and sure, it wails upon 
 Some god of the island. Silting on a bank. 
 Weeping again the king my father's wreck. 
 This music crept by me upon the waters ; 
 Allaying both their fury, and my passion, ^ 
 With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it, 
 Or it hath drawn me rather : — But 'tis gone. 
 No it begins again. 
 
 AniT.L sings. 
 Full fathom fire tfiy father lies ,■ 
 
 Of' his honei are mrnl made ; 
 Those are pearls, that were his eyes: 
 
 Nothing: if him that dothfaile, 
 But doth suffer a sea-change 
 Into something rich and .strange. 
 Srei-ni/mphs hourlil ring *J.f knell : 
 Hark.' now I licarthem.— ding-dong, bell 
 [Burden, ding-dong. 
 Fer. The ditty docs remember my drown'd 
 Father : — 
 'Destroy. p Being stilled, sitenced. 
 
Act II. ScEN-E I. 
 
 TEMPESl. 
 
 15 
 
 This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
 Tliatthe earth owes' : — I hear it now above me. 
 Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance 
 And saj-, what tiiou seestyond'. 
 
 j\lira. What is't 1 a spirit! 
 
 Lord, how it looks about ! Believe me, sir, 
 It carries a brave form : — But 'tis a spirit. 
 Fro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath 
 such senses 
 As we have, such : This gallant which thou seest. 
 Was in the wreck ; and but he's something stain'd 
 With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call 
 
 him 
 A goodly person : he hath l^st his fellows. 
 And strays about to find them. 
 
 nfira. I might call him 
 
 A thing divine; for nothing natural 
 I ever saw so noble. 
 
 Pro. It goes on, [Asidf. 
 
 As my soul prompts it: — Spirit, fine spirit! Ill 
 
 free tliee 
 Within two days for this. 
 
 Pg^. Most sure the goddess 
 
 On whom these airs attend ! — Vouchsafe my prayer 
 May know, if you remain upon this island ; 
 And that you will some good instruction give, 
 How I may bear me here : My prime request, 
 \Vhioh I do last pronounce, is, O you vronder ! 
 If you be maid, or no ! 
 
 Mira. No wonder, sir ; 
 
 But, certainly a maid. 
 
 Per. My language ; heavens ! — 
 
 I am the best of them that speak this speech, 
 Were I but where 'tis spoken. 
 
 Pro. How ! the best ! 
 
 What vvert thou if the king of Naples heard theel 
 Per. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders 
 To hear thee speak of Naples : He does hear me ; 
 And, that he does, I weep : myself am Naples ; 
 Who with mine eves, ne'er since at ebb, beheld 
 The king my father wieck'd. 
 Mira. Alack, for mercy ! 
 
 Per. Yen, faith, and all his lords ; the duke of 
 Milan. 
 And his brave son being twain. 
 
 Pro. The duke of Milan, 
 
 And his more braver daughter, could control' thee. 
 If now 'twere fit to do't : — At the first sight 
 
 [Aside. 
 They have chang'd eyes: — Delicate Ariel, 
 I'll set thee free for this ! — A word, good sir ; 
 I fear, you have done yourself some wrong : a word. 
 Mira. Why speaks' my father so unsently T This 
 Is the third man that e'er I saw ; the first 
 That e'er 1 sighed for : pity move my father 
 To be inclin'd my way ! 
 
 Pa: O, if a virgin, 
 
 And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you 
 The queen of Naples'. 
 
 Pro. Soft, sir, one word more. — 
 
 They are both in either's powers ; but this swift 
 
 business 
 I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Ande. 
 Make tlic prize light. — One word more ; I charge 
 
 thee. 
 That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp 
 
 The name thou ttw'st not; and hast put thyself 
 Upon this island, as a spy to win it 
 From me, the lord on't. 
 
 Per. No, as I am a man. 
 
 Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a 
 temple: 
 If the ill spirit have so fair an house, 
 Good things will strive to dwell with't. 
 
 Pro. Follow me. — [To FenD. 
 
 Speak not you for him ; he's a traitor. — Come. 
 I'll manacle thy neck and feet together ; 
 Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be 
 The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husKs 
 Wherein the acorn cradled : Follow. 
 
 per. No; 
 
 I will resist such entertainment, till 
 Mine enemy has more power. [lie draws. 
 
 Mira. . dear father. 
 
 Make not too rash a trial of him, for 
 He's gentle, and not fearful.* 
 
 Pro. What, I say. 
 
 My foot my tutor! — Put thy sword up, traitor; 
 Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy con- 
 science 
 Is so possess'd with guilt : come from thy ward' ; 
 For I can here disarm thee with tliis stick, 
 And make thy weapon drop. 
 
 l\[ira. Beseech you, father ! 
 
 Pro. Hence ; hang not on my garments. 
 
 Mira. Sir, have pity ; 
 
 I'll be his surety. 
 
 Pro. Silence : one word more 
 
 Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What ! 
 An advocate for an impostor? hush ! 
 Tliou think'st there are no more such shapes as he. 
 Having seen but him and Caliban : Foolisn wench ! 
 To the most of men this is a Caliban, 
 And they to him are angels. 
 
 Mira. My affections 
 
 Are then most humble ; I have no ambition 
 To see a goodlier man. 
 
 Pro. Come on; obey: [To Fekii. 
 
 Thy nerves are in their infancy again, 
 And have no vigor in them. 
 
 Per. So they are : 
 
 My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. 
 The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats, 
 To whom I am subdued, are but light to me. 
 Might I but through my prison once a day 
 Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth 
 Let liberty make use of; space enough 
 Have I in such a prison. 
 
 Pro. It works : — Come on. — 
 
 Thou hast done vfcll, fine Ariel ! — Follow me. — 
 [To FEttn. and MiB. 
 Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Anir.i. 
 
 Mira. Be of comfort ; 
 
 My father's of a better nature, sir. 
 Than he appears by speech ; this is unwonted, 
 \Vliich now came from him. 
 
 Pro. Thou shalt be as free 
 
 As mountain winds : but then exactly do 
 All points of my command. 
 
 Ari. To the syllable. 
 
 Pro. Come, follow : speak not for him. [Exeunt 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE I. — Another part of the Island. 
 
 JEn/er Alovso, SEntsTiAjf, A^tosio, fJoszALO, 
 AniiiAS, Frascisco, and others. 
 Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause 
 (So have we all) of joy ; for our escape 
 Is much beyond our loss: our hint of woe 
 Is common; every day some sailor's wife. 
 The masters of jpme merchant, and the merchant. 
 Have just our theme of woe : but for the miracle, 
 I mean our preservation, few in millions 
 Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh 
 Our sorrow with our comforL 
 
 sowna iConfuto 
 
 Alon. Pr'ythee, peace ! 
 
 Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 
 
 Ant. 'i'he visitor will not give him o'er so. 
 
 Sell. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit ; 
 By and by it will strike. 
 
 Co;!. Sir, 
 
 Seb. One: Tell. 
 
 Con. When every grief is entertain'd, that 'a 
 olTered, 
 Comes to the entertainer — 
 
 Seh. A dollar. 
 
 Gon. Dolor comes to him, indeed ; you have 
 spoken truer than you purposed. 
 
 » Frightful. " Quard. 
 
l() 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 SV&. You have taken it wisclier than I meant you 
 should. 
 
 Gun. Therefore, my lord. — 
 
 Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is lie of his tongue ! 
 
 Alan. I pr'ytliee, spare. 
 
 (nin. Well, I have done: But yet — 
 
 Sc/j. He will be talking. 
 
 Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good 
 wager, first begins (o crow ! 
 
 Sell. The old cock. 
 
 Ant. The cockrel. 
 
 Seh. Done: the wager 1 
 
 Ant. A laughter. 
 
 Sch. A match. 
 
 A'Ir. Though this island seem to be desert, — 
 
 Seb. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Ant. So you've pay'd. 
 
 Adr. Unmhabitablc, and almost inaccessible, — 
 
 SeM. Yet. 
 
 Adr. Yet — 
 
 Ant. He could not miss it. 
 
 Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and 
 delicate temperance*. 
 
 Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. 
 
 Seb. Ay, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly 
 delivered. 
 
 Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. 
 
 Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 
 
 Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen. 
 
 Gun. Here is every thing advantageous to hfe. 
 
 Ant. True; save means to live. 
 
 Sob. Of that there's none, or little. 
 
 Gon. How lush' and lusty the grass looks ! how 
 green. 
 
 Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. 
 
 Seb. With an eye" of green in't. 
 
 Ant. He misses not much. 
 
 Se"). No: he doth but mistake the truth totally. 
 
 Gmi. lUit the rarity of it is (which is indeed 
 almost beyond credit) — 
 
 iSe/j. As many vouch'd rarities are. 
 
 Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, 
 drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their 
 freshness, and glosses ; being rather new dy'd, than 
 stain'd with salt water. 
 
 Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, 
 wouhl it not say, he lies ^ 
 
 Se'i. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. 
 
 G(ni. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh 
 as when we put them on first in Afric, at the mar- 
 riage of the king's fair daughter Claribel "to the 
 kiiig of Tunis. 
 
 Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper 
 well in our return. 
 
 Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a 
 paragon to their queen. 
 
 Gun. Not sipce widow Dido's time. 
 
 Ant. Widow 1 a pox o' that! how came that 
 widow in 1 Widow Dido! 
 
 Seb. What if he had s:iid, widower .ffineas too? 
 good lord, how you take it ! 
 
 Adr. Widow Dido, said you 7 you make me study 
 of that : she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. 
 
 Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 
 
 Adr. Carthage! 
 
 Gon. I assure you, Carthage. 
 
 Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. 
 
 Seb. He hath raised the walls, and houses too. 
 
 Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy 
 next! 
 
 Seb. I think he will carry this island home m his 
 pocket, and give it his son'for an apple. 
 
 Ant. And, sowing the kernels ol it in the sea, 
 bring forth more islands. 
 
 Gon. Ay '! 
 
 Ant. Why, in good time. 
 
 Gon. Sir, we were talking, tliat our ^arinents 
 seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at 
 the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. 
 
 Ant. And the rarest that e'er came tliere. 
 
 Se'j. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. 
 
 Ant. O, widow Dido ; ay, widow Dido. 
 
 Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first 
 day I wore it ! I mean, in a sort. 
 
 Ant. That sort was well fishd tor. 
 
 Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's mar- 
 riage 1 
 
 A!on. You cram these words into mine ears 
 against 
 * Temperature. » Hank. « Shade of color. 
 
 The stomach of my sense : 'Would I had never 
 Married my daughter there ! for, coming thence, 
 My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too. 
 Who is so far from Italy removed, 
 I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir 
 Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish 
 Hath made his meal on thee ! 
 
 Fran. Sir. he may live : 
 
 I saw him beat the surges under him. 
 And ride upon their backs; lie trod the water, 
 Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
 The surge most swoln that met him : his bold head 
 'liovc the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 
 Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
 To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd. 
 As sfooping to relieve him ; I not doubt, 
 He came alive to land. 
 
 A ton. No, no, he's gone. 
 
 Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great 
 loss ; 
 That would not bless our Europe with your daugh- 
 ter, 
 But rather lose her to an African ; 
 Whpi-e she, at least, is banish'd from your eye. 
 Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. 
 
 Alon. Pr'ytliee, peace. 
 
 Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd other- 
 wise 
 Ry all of us ; and the fiiir soul herself 
 W'eigh'd, between lothncss and obedience, at 
 Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost 
 
 your son, 
 I fear, forever : Milan and Naples have 
 More widows in them of this business' making. 
 Than we bring men to comfort them : The fault's 
 Your own. 
 
 Alon. So is the dearest of the loss. 
 
 Gon. My lord Sebastian, 
 
 The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, 
 And tiuie to speak it in ; you rub the sore, 
 W hen y ou should bring the plaster. 
 
 Seb. Very well- 
 
 Ant. And most chirurgeonly. 
 
 Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 
 When you are cloudy. 
 
 Seb. Foul weather 1 
 
 A nt. Very foul. 
 
 Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord, — 
 
 Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed. 
 
 Seb. Or docks, or mallows. 
 
 Gon. And were the king of it, what would I dol 
 
 Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. 
 
 Gon. r the commonwealth I would by contraries 
 Rxecute all things; for no kind of trallic 
 Would I admit; no name of magistrate; 
 Letters should not be known; no use of service, 
 Of riches or of poverty ; no eonti'acts. 
 Succession; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : 
 No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil : 
 No occupation ; all men idle, all; 
 And women, too; but innocent and pure : 
 No sovereignty : — 
 
 Seb. And yet he would be king on't. 
 
 Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for- 
 gets the begining. 
 
 Gon. All things in common nature should pro- 
 duce, 
 W'ithout sweat or endeavor : treason, felony. 
 Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine. 
 Would I not have ; but nature should iiring forth. 
 Of its own kind, all foison', all abundance, 
 Ti) feed my innocent people. 
 
 Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects ? 
 
 Ant. None, man ; all idle ; whores and knaves. 
 
 Gon. 1 would with such perfection govern, sir, 
 To excel the golden age. 
 
 Seb. 'Save his majesty ! 
 
 Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! 
 
 Gon. And, do you mark me, sir? — 
 
 Alon. rry'thee, no more: thou dost talk nothing 
 to me. 
 
 Gon. I do well believe your highness ; and did it 
 to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of 
 such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always 
 use to laugh at nothing. ^ 
 
 Ant. ''Fwas you we laugh'd at. 
 
 Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am 
 nolliing to you ; so you may continue, and laugh 
 at notliin;^; still. 
 
 1 Plenty. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 17 
 
 Ant. What a blow was there given ! 
 
 Seh. An it had nut fallen llat-loni;. 
 
 Gim. You are gentlemen of brave metal : you 
 would lifl the moon out of her sphere, if she would 
 continue in it live weeks without changing. 
 
 Enter Anir.L iitvUible, playing solemn music. 
 
 Sfft. We would so, and then go a bat-fow!ing. 
 
 Ant. Nar, good my lord, be not angry. 
 
 Onn. No, I warrant you ; I will not adventure 
 my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, 
 for I am very heavy '.' 
 
 Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. 
 
 {Alt sleep hut Alon-., Sr.n., and An'T. 
 
 Alnn. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes 
 Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : I 
 
 find 
 They are inclined to do so. 
 
 Sc'i. Please you, sir. 
 
 Do not omit the heavy offer of it ; 
 It seldom visits sorrow: when it doth. 
 It is a comforter. 
 
 Ant. We two, my lord. 
 
 Will guard your person, while you take your rest, 
 And watch your safety. 
 
 Alon. Thank you : wondrous Iicavy. — 
 
 [XiAtsso sleeps. Exit Am el. 
 
 Seh. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! 
 
 Ant. It is tlie quality o' the climate. 
 . Seb. Why 
 
 nnth it not then our eyelids sinki I find not 
 Myself dispos'd to sleep. 
 
 Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. 
 They fell together all, as by consent; 
 Tliey dropp'd as by a thunder-stroke. What might. 
 Worthy Sefiastian \ — O, what might? — -No more : — 
 And yet, mcthinks, I see it in thy face. 
 What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee ; 
 
 and 
 My strong imagination sees a crown 
 Dropping upon thy head. 
 
 Seh. What, art thou waking 1 
 
 Ant. Do you not hear me speak ! 
 
 Seb. I do ; and surely, 
 
 It is a sleepy language ; and thou speak'st 
 Out of thy sleep : What is it thou didst say 1 
 This is a strange repose, to be asleep 
 With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving. 
 And yet so fast asleep. 
 
 Ant. Noble Sebastian, 
 
 Thou let'st thy fortune sleep — die rather; wink'st 
 Whiles thou art waking. 
 
 Seh. Thou dost snore distinctly ; 
 
 There's meaning in thy snores. 
 
 Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you 
 Must be so too, if heed me; which to do, 
 Trebles thee o'er. 
 
 Seb. Well ; I am standing water. 
 
 Ant. rU teach you how to flow. 
 
 Seb. Do so: to ebb, 
 
 Hereditarj' sloth instructs me. 
 
 Ant. 0, 
 
 If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish, 
 \\'hiles thus you mock it ! how, in stripping it. 
 You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed. 
 Most often do so near the bottom run, 
 By their own fear, or sloth. 
 
 Seh. Pr'ythee, say on : 
 
 The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim 
 A matter fi jm thee; and a birth, indeed. 
 Which throes thee much to yield. 
 
 Ant. Thus, sir. 
 
 Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, 
 (Who shall be of as little memory. 
 When he is earth'd.l hath here almost persuaded 
 (For he's a spirit of persuasion only) 
 The king his son's alive : 'tis as impossible 
 That he's undrown'd. as he that sleeps here swims, 
 
 Seh. I have no hope 
 That he's undrown'd. 
 
 Ant. O, out of that no hope. 
 
 What great hope have you ! no hope, that way, is 
 Another way so high a hope, that even 
 Ambition cannot nierce a wink beyond, 
 But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with 
 
 me. 
 That Ferdinand is drown'd ? 
 
 Seh. He's gone. 
 
 Ant. Then, tell me, 
 
 Who's the next heir of Naples ? 
 
 Seh. Claribel. 
 
 Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells 
 Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from 
 
 Naples 
 Can have no note, unless the sun were post, 
 {The man i' the moon's too slow) till new-born chins 
 Be rough and razorable : she, from whom 
 We were all sea-swallow'd. though some cast again ; 
 And. by that, destin'd to perform an act, 
 \Vlicrebf what's past is prologue ; what to come. 
 In yours and my discharge. 
 
 Seh. What stuff is this > — How say you T 
 
 'Tis true, mv brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; 
 So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions 
 There is some space. 
 
 Ant. A space, whose every cubit 
 
 Seems to cry out, llont shall ttiaf Claribel 
 Measure us baek tii Najiles ? — Keep in Tunis, 
 And let Sebastian wake! — Say, this were death 
 That now hath seiz'd them ; why, they were no 
 
 worse 
 Than now they are : there be, that can rule Naples 
 As well as he that sleeps ; lords, that can prate 
 As amply, and unnecessarily. 
 As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make 
 A chough" of as deep chat. O, that you bore 
 The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this 
 For your advancement! Do you understand rae 1 
 
 Seb. Methinks I do. 
 
 Ant. And how does your content 
 
 Tender your own good fortune 1 
 
 Seb. I remember, 
 
 You did supplant your brother Prospero. 
 
 Ant. True: 
 
 And, look, how well my garments sit upon me ; 
 Much feater than before : My brother's servants 
 Were then my fellows, now they are my men. 
 
 Seh. liut, for your conscience — 
 
 Ant. Ay, sir ; where lies that ! if it were a kjbe, 
 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not 
 This tleity in my bosom : twenty consciences. 
 That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied he they, 
 And melt, ere they molest ! Here lies your brother 
 No better than the earth he lies upon, 
 If he were that which now he's like: Whom I, 
 With this obedient steel, three inches of it. 
 Can lay to bed fpr ever : whiles you, doing thus, 
 To the perpetual wink for aye might put 
 This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who 
 Should not upbrai<l our course. For all the rest. 
 They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk ; 
 They'll tell the clock to any business that 
 We say befits the hour. 
 
 Si'b. Thy case, dear friend, 
 
 Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, 
 I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one stroke 
 Shall free tliee iVom the tribute which thou pay'st ; 
 .\nd I the king shall love thee. 
 
 Ant. Draw together : 
 
 And when I rear my hand do you the like. 
 To fall it on Gonzalo. 
 
 Seh. 0, but one word ! 
 
 [They converse apart 
 
 lifusie. Re-enter Arif.i., invi.iihle. 
 Ari. My master through his art forsees the danger 
 That these, his friends, arc in ; and sends me forth, 
 (For else his project dies.) to keep them living. 
 
 [Sinffs in Goszalo's car. 
 
 If'hile you here ito snoring lie, 
 Open-eti^il conspiracy 
 
 His time (ttjth take : 
 If of life ynti keep a care, 
 Shiike'off slumber, and beware: 
 
 Aioake .' .iwake .' 
 
 Ant. Then let us both be sudden. 
 
 Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king ! 
 
 [Ttieii wake. 
 Alon. Why how now, ho! awake! Why are 
 yon drawn 1 
 Wherefore this ghastly looking 1 
 
 Gcni. What's the matter 
 
 Seb. Whiles we stood Here securing your repose. 
 Even now, we heard a hollow burst ofbellowing 
 Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you? 
 It struck mine ear most terribly. 
 
 ' A bird of the jackdaw kind. 
 
18 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act II, 
 
 Alon. I heard nothin;;. 
 
 Aiil. 0, 'twas a din to friglit a monsters ear; 
 To make an eartliquake ! sure it was tlic roar 
 Of a whole herd of hons. 
 
 A'.on. Heard you this, Oonzalo 1 
 
 G:ni. Upon mine honor, sir, 1 lieaid a humming;:, 
 And thai a strange one too, wliich did awake me : 
 I shak'd you, sir. and cry'd : as mine eyes open'd, 
 I saw their weapons drawn : — there was a noise, 
 Tliat's verity : 'iiest stand upon our ^uard ; 
 Or that we quit this phice: let's draw our weapons. 
 
 Aton, Lead oil* this ground ; ami let's make fur- 
 ther search 
 For my poor son. 
 
 Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts ! 
 
 For he is, sure, i' the island. 
 
 Alun. Lead away. 
 
 Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know what I have 
 
 done : [AaUle, 
 
 So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Excttnl. 
 
 SCEN E IL — Another part of t/ie Islaml. 
 
 Enter Caliban, witti a burden of wood. 
 
 A nol'^e of thunder heard. 
 
 Cat. All the infections tiiat the sun sucks up 
 From bogs, fens, Hats, on Prosper tall, and make 
 
 him 
 By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me. 
 And j'et I needs must curse. Hut they'll nor pinch, 
 Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, 
 Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark 
 Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but 
 For every triUe are they set upon me : 
 Sometime like apes tliat moe» and chatter at me, 
 And after, bite me ; then like hedge-hogs, which 
 Lie tumbling in my bare foot-way, and mount 
 Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am 1 
 All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, 
 Do hiss me into madness : — Lo ! now ! lo ! 
 
 Enter TiiixcuLO. 
 Hero comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me. 
 For brineing wciod in slowly: Fll fall Hat; 
 Perchance, lie will not miini me. 
 
 Trin, Here's ncillier Inish nor shrub, to bear off 
 any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I 
 hear it sing i' the wind : yond' same black cloud, 
 yond' huge one. looks like a foul boinbardi that 
 would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it 
 did before, I know not where to hide my head : 
 yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfula. 
 \'v^hat have we here"? a man or a lish? dead or alive] 
 A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient and 
 lish-like smell ; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor- 
 John. A strange fish ! Were I in England now, {as 
 once I was.) and had but this fisli jiainted, not a 
 holiday-fool there but would give a piece of silver ; 
 there would this monster make a man : any strange 
 beast there makes a man : when they will not give 
 a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out 
 ten to .see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man ] and 
 his fins like arms! Warni.o' my troth ! I do now 
 let loose my opinion, hold it no longer ; this is no 
 lish, but an islander, that hath lately sull'er'd by a 
 thunder-bolt. [Thunder.] Alas! the storm is coming 
 again : my best way is to creep under his gaber- 
 dineo; there is no other shelter ncreabout: Misery 
 acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will 
 litre shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past. 
 
 £;i/er STErHANo, singing; a bottle in liis tuind. 
 Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, 
 
 Here shall I die a-shore ,■ — 
 This is a very scnrvy tune to sing at a man's 
 funeral ; 
 Well, here's my comfort. [Drinks. 
 
 Ths mauler, the swabber, tlie boatswain, and I, 
 
 The gunner, and his mate, 
 tov'd Malt, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, 
 B'lt none of us cared for Kale : 
 For she had a tongue with a tang, 
 iVouM crij to a saihr, Co hang : 
 She lov'd not the savor of tar or of pitch. 
 Yet a tailor might scratch Iter where'er she did 
 itch ■• 
 Tlien to sea, lioi/s, and let tier go hang. 
 » Make mouths. » X Ijlack j.ock of le.athor to hold beer. 
 oTho froek of a iivasant. 
 
 This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. 
 
 [Brinlis. 
 
 Cal. Do not torment me : O ! 
 
 Ste. What's the matter ! Have we devils here 1 
 Do you put triclvs upon us with savages, and men 
 of Inde I' Ha ! 1 have not 'scap'd drowning, to be 
 afeard now of your four legs ; lor it hath been said, 
 As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot 
 make him give ground: and it shall be said so 
 again, while Stepliano breathes at nostrils. 
 
 Cal. The spirit torments me; O! 
 
 Ste. This is some moiisler of the isle with four 
 legs ; who hath got, as 1 tiike it, an ague: Where 
 the devil should ne learn our language? I will give 
 him some relief, if it le but for that": If I can re- 
 cover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples 
 with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever 
 trod on neat's leather. 
 
 Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ytliee ; 
 I'll bring my wood home faster. 
 
 Ste. He's in his fit now ; and does not talk after 
 the wisest. He shall taste of :ny bottle : if he have 
 never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove 
 his fit : Iff can recover him, and keej) him tame, I 
 Will not take too much forliim: he shall pay for 
 him that bath him, and that soundly. 
 
 ('(//. Thou dost me yet but htlle hurt ; thou wilt 
 Anon. I know it by thy trembling: 
 Now Prosper works upon thee. 
 
 Ste. Come on your ways : open your mouth ; 
 here is that which will give language to von, cat ; 
 open your mouth : this will shake your sliak'ing, I 
 can tell you, and that soundly : you cannot tell 
 who's your friend : open your chaps again. 
 
 Trin. I should know that voice : It should be — 
 Put he is drowned ; and these are devils: ! de- 
 fend me ! — 
 
 Ste. Four legs, and two voices; a most delicate 
 monster! His forward voice now is lo speak well 
 of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul 
 speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my 
 bottle will recover him, I will lielii his ague; Come, 
 Amen ! I will pour some in thy other mouth. 
 
 Trin. Stepbano ! — 
 
 Ste. Doth thy other mouth call meT Mercy! 
 mercy ! this is a devil, and no monster ] 1 will 
 leave him ; I have no long spoon. 
 
 Trin. Stepbano ! — if thou beest Stepbano, touch 
 me. and speak to me; for I am Trinculo; — be not 
 afeard, — thy good friend Trinculo. 
 
 Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth ; I'll pull 
 thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs, 
 tliese are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed. 
 How cam'st thou lo be the siege* of this moon-calf? 
 Can he vent Trinculos ? 
 
 Trin. 1 took him to be killed with a tbuuder- 
 stroko : — But art thou not drowned, Stepbano! 
 I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm 
 overblown '. I hid me under the dead moon-calf's 
 gaberdine, for fear of the storm: and art tliou 
 living, Stepbano ! O Stepbano, two Neapolitans 
 'scaped ! 
 
 Ste. Pr'yihee, do not turn me about ; my stomach 
 is not constant. 
 
 Cat. These be fine things, an if they be not 
 sprites. 
 Tbaf s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor : 
 I will kneel to him. 
 
 Ste. How didst Ihou 'scape '! how cam'st thou 
 hither 1 swear by this bottle, bow thou cam'st hither. 
 I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors 
 heaved overboard, by this bottle ! which I made of 
 the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I 
 was cast ashore. 
 
 Cal. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy 
 True subject ; for the liquor is not earthly. 
 
 Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. 
 
 Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck ; I can 
 swim like a duck, III be sworn. 
 
 Ste. Here, kiss the book: Though thou canst 
 swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. 
 
 Trin. O Stepbano. hast any more of this ! 
 
 Ste. The whole butt, man ; my cellar is in a rock 
 by the sca-.side, where my wine is hid. How now, 
 moon-calf! how does thine ague ! 
 
 Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven ? 
 
 Sle. Out o' llie moon. I do assure thee: I was 
 the man in the moon, when time was. 
 
 itudia. 'Stool. 
 
Act ITI Scene I. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 19 
 
 Cal. I have soon thee in her, nnd I do adore thee; 
 Mv mistress f^howed me thee, Ihy do^ and bush. 
 
 Ste. Come, sweiir to that ; kiss the book : I will 
 furnish it anon with new contents : swear. 
 
 Trin. By this ^ood li^ht, this is a very shallow 
 monster: — I afeard of liim ? — a very weak monster: 
 — The man i' the nioonl — a most poor credu- 
 lous monster: — Well drawn, monster, in good 
 sooth. 
 
 Cfil. I'll show thee every fertile incho' the island; 
 And kiss thy foot: I pr'ythee, be my °;od. 
 
 Trin. By thislifjht, a most perfidious and drunk- 
 en monsttT ; when his gods asleep, he'll rob his 
 bottle. 
 
 CaL I'll kiss thy foot ; I'll swear myself thy 
 subject. 
 
 Sfe. Come on, then ; down and swear. 
 
 Tri?i. I shall Ian;xh myself to death at this puppy- 
 headed monster : A most scurvy monster! I could 
 find in my heart to beat him, — 
 
 Sfe. Come. kiss. 
 
 Trin. — ■ but that the poor monster's in drink. 
 An abominable monster : 
 
 Cal. Ill show thee the best springs ; I'll pluck 
 thee berries; 
 I'll fish for thee, and 2;et thee wood enough. 
 A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! 
 I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
 Thou wondrous man. 
 
 Trin. A most ridiculous monster! to make a 
 wonder of a poor drunkard. 
 
 C'jI. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs 
 prow ; 
 And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; 
 Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct t!iee how 
 To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee 
 To clusfrin*^ filberds, and sometimes I'll trot thcc 
 Young sea-mells* from the rock : Wilt thou go 
 with me ! 
 
 Sfe. I pr'ythee now lead the way, without any 
 more tatkimr. — Trinculo. the kins and all our com- 
 pany else being drowned, we will inherit here. — 
 Here; bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll liU 
 Iiim by and by again. 
 
 Cal. Farewell, master ; farewells fareivelK 
 
 \Sinss drunkenly. 
 
 Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster. 
 
 Cal. No more dams Til make for fish ; 
 Nfir fetch in firing 
 At requiring, 
 
 Nor scrape treiiching;, nnr wash dish, 
 ^Ban 'Ban, Ca — Caliban 
 Has a new master — Get a new man. 
 
 Freedom, liey-day ! hey-day, freedom! freedom, 
 hey-day, freedom ! 
 Ste, brave monster ! lead the way. 
 
 [ExeuTtf, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — Bf/ore Prospero's Cf //. 
 
 Enter Fetidi>'and, bearing a log- 
 
 Fer. There be some sports are painful; but their 
 labor 
 Delight in tliem sets off; some kinds of baseness 
 Arc nobly undergone; and most poor matters 
 Point to ricli ends. This my mean task would be 
 As heavy to' me, as "tis odious; but 
 The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead, 
 And makes my labors pleasures : (), ahe is 
 Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; 
 And he's coninosed of harshness. 1 must remove 
 Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, 
 Upon a sore injunction : My sweet mistress 
 Weeps when she sees me work ; and says, such 
 
 baseness 
 Had ne'er like executor. I forget: 
 liiil these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labors ; 
 Most busy-less, wlien I do it. 
 
 Enter Minxynx; «;?.(/ PnosrEno at a distance. 
 
 M'lra. Alas, now! pray you 
 
 W^ork not so hard : I would tlie lightning had 
 Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd to pile ! 
 pray set it down, and rest you : when this burns, 
 'Twill weep for having wearied you : My father 
 Is hard at study ; pray now rest yourself; 
 He's safe for these three hours. 
 
 Fer. O most dear mistress, 
 
 The sun will set, before I shall discharge 
 What 1 must strive to do. 
 
 Mira. If you'll sit down, 
 
 I'll bear your \oi.s the while : Pray, give me that ; 
 I'll carry it to the pile. 
 
 Fer. No, precious creature : 
 
 I had rather crack my sinews, break my back. 
 Than you should such dishonor undergo, 
 While I sit lazy bj'. 
 
 Mira. It would become me 
 
 As well as it does you: and I should do it 
 With much more ease ; for my good will is to it, 
 And yours against. 
 
 Fro. Poor wonn ! thou art infected ; 
 
 This visitation shows it. 
 
 Mira. You look wearily. 
 
 Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning 
 with me, 
 When you are by at night. I do beseech you, 
 (Chiefly, that I niight set it in my prayers,) 
 What IS your name ] 
 
 Mira. Miranda: — my father, 
 
 I have broke your hosts to say so ! 
 
 Fer. Admir'd Miranda ! 
 
 Indeed. tliC top of admiration ; worth 
 Whafs dearest to the world ! Full many a lady • 
 I have ey"d with best regard ; and many a time 
 The harinony of their tongues hath into bondage 
 Brought my too diligent ear : tor several virtues 
 Have I lik'd several women; never any 
 With so full soul, but some delect in her 
 Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow"d% 
 And i)Ut it to the foil: But you, you, 
 So perlect, and so peerless, are created 
 Of every creature's besL _ 
 
 Mira. I do not know 
 
 One of my sex ; no woman's face remember, 
 Siive, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
 More that I may call men, than you, good friend, 
 And my dear father ; how features arc abroad, 
 I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty, 
 (The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish 
 Any companion in the world but you; 
 Nor can imagination form a shape. 
 Besides yourself, to like of; but I prattle 
 Something too wildly, and my father's precepts 
 Therein forget. 
 
 Fer. I am, in my condition, 
 
 A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king ; 
 (I would, not so!) and would no more endure 
 This wooden slavery, than I would sufi'cr 
 Tiie flesh-lly blow my mouth. — Hear my soul 
 
 speak ; — 
 The very instant that I saw you, did 
 My heart lly tu your service ; tliere resides. 
 To make me slave to it ; and, for your sake, 
 Ami this patient log-man. 
 
 Mira. Do you love, me 1 
 
 Fer, O Jieaven, O earth, bear witness to tins 
 sound, 
 And crown what I profess with kind event, 
 If I speak true ! if hollowly, invert 
 W'hat best is boded me, to mischief! I, 
 Beyond all limit of what else i" the world, 
 Do love, prize, honor you. 
 
 Mira. I am a fool. 
 
 To weep at what I am glad of. 
 
 Pro. Fair encounter 
 
 Of two most rare affections ! Hcuvens rain grace 
 On that which breeds between them ! 
 
 Fer. Wherefore weep you ? 
 
 • Sea-gullB. e Command. TOwn'J. 
 
20 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not 
 oiler 
 What I desire to give ; and much less take, 
 \Vliat I shall die to want : but this is trilling; 
 And all tlie more it seeks to hide itself. 
 The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning ! 
 And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
 I am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
 If not. Ill die youi^ maid : to be your fellow 
 ^ou may deny me : but 111 be your servant, 
 Whether you will or no. 
 
 /•>'■■ My mistress, dearest, 
 
 Anrl I thus humble ever. 
 
 Mira. My husband then 1 
 
 /•>r. Ay, with a heart as willing 
 As bondage e'er of freedom : here's my hand. 
 
 Mira. And mine, with my heart int : And now 
 farewell. 
 Till half an hour hence. 
 
 Fcr. A thousand! thousand! 
 
 [Exeunt I-'kr. and Min,\. 
 
 Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be. 
 Who are surprised with all ; but my rejoicing 
 At nothing can be more. I'll to my book ; 
 Kor yet. ere supper-time, must 1 perform 
 Much business appertaining. [Ejcit. 
 
 SCENE II. — Another part of /he Island. 
 
 Enter Stephano and Tni:fcni.o ; Calibas/o/- 
 hiwing tvith a bottle. 
 
 Ste. Tell not me ; — when the butt is out, we 
 will drink water; not a drop before; therefore 
 bear up and board 'em : Servant-monster, drink to 
 mo. 
 
 Trin. Servant-monsler] the folly of this island ! 
 They say. there's but five upon this isle: we are 
 three of them ; if the other two be brained like us, 
 t lie state totters. 
 
 s/e. Drink, servant monster, when I bid thee; 
 lliy eyes are almost set in thy head. 
 
 Trin. Where should they be set else'f he were 
 a br.ave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. 
 
 Sle. My man-monster hath drowned his tongue 
 in sack : for my part, the sea cannot drown me : I 
 swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty 
 leagues, off and on, by Ibis light. — Thou shall be 
 my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. 
 
 Trin. Your lieutenant, if you hst ; he's no 
 standard. 
 
 Ste. 'We'll not run. monsieur njonster. 
 
 Trin. Nor go neither : but you'll lie, like dogs ; 
 and set say nothing neither. 
 
 Sle. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou 
 beest a good moon-cilf. 
 
 Cat. How does thy honor 1 Let me lick thy shoe : 
 I'll not serve him. — he's not valiant. 
 
 Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster ; I am 
 in case to justle a constable : Why, thou debosheda 
 lisli thott, was there ever man a coward, that hath 
 drunk so much sack as I to-day 7 Wilt thou tell a 
 monstrous lie, being but half a fish, and half a 
 monster ] 
 
 Cat. Lo, how he mocks me! "wilt thou let him, 
 my lord "! 
 
 Tiin. Lord, quoth he ! — that a monster should 
 be such a natural ! 
 
 Cat. Lo, lo. a^rain ! bite him to death, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Ste. 'frinculo, keep a good tongue in your 
 head ; if you prove a mutineer, the next tree — The 
 poor monster's my subject, and he shall not sufli^r 
 indignity. 
 
 ('//,'. 1 thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd 
 To hearken once "again the suit I made thee ] 
 
 Ste. Marry will 1: kiieel, and repeat it; I will 
 stand, and so shall Trinculo. 
 
 Enter Ariel, invisible. 
 
 Cat. As I told thee 
 nefore, I am subject to a tyrant ; 
 A sorcerer, that liy his cunning hath 
 Cheated me of this island. 
 
 Art. Thou liest. 
 
 Cat. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou ; 
 T would n^y valiant master would destroy thee: 
 1 do not lie. 
 
 Str. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in 
 hig tale, by this hand, I wiM supplant some of your 
 teeth. 
 
 • Debauched. 
 
 Trin. Why, I said nothing. 
 Ste. Mum then, and no more. — [To Caliban.] 
 Proceed. 
 
 Cat. I say. by sorcery he got this isle; 
 From me he got it. If thy greatness will 
 Revenge it on him — for, I know, thou dar'st; 
 But this thing dare not. 
 
 Ste. That s most certain. 
 
 Ca!. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. 
 
 Ste. How now shall this be compassed ] Canst 
 thou bring me to the party? 
 
 Cat. Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep, 
 Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head. 
 
 An. Thou liest, thou canst not. 
 
 Cat. What a pied ninny's this!" Thou scurvy 
 patch ! — 
 T do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, 
 And take his bottle from hiin : when that's gone, 
 lie shall drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show 
 
 him 
 Where the quick freshes* are. 
 
 Sle. Trinculo, run into no further danger : inter- 
 rupt the monster one word further, and. by this 
 hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a 
 stock-fish of tiiee. 
 
 Trin. Why, what did H I did nothing; I'll go 
 further off". 
 
 Ste. Didst thou not say, he lied 7 
 
 Ari. Thou liest. 
 
 S/e. Do I so 7 take thou that. [Strilies him.] As 
 you like this, give me the lie another time. 
 
 Trin. I did not give the lie: — Out o' your wits, 
 and hearing too 7 — A i)0X o' your bottle! this can 
 sack and drinking do. — A murrain on your mon- 
 ster, and the devil take your fingers ! 
 
 Cal. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Pr'ythee ! 
 stand further oil'. 
 
 Cal. Beat him enough: after a little time, 
 I'll beat him too. 
 
 Ste. Stand further. — Come, proceed. 
 
 Cat. Why, as 1 told thee, 'tis a custom with him 
 r the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st braui 
 
 him. 
 Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log 
 Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, 
 fir cut his wezand' with thy knife : Remember, 
 First to possess his books ; for without them 
 lie's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not 
 One spirit to command : They all do hate him, 
 .As rootedly as I ; Burn but his bonks; 
 He has brave utensils, (for so he calls them,) 
 Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. 
 And that most deeply to consider, is 
 The Ijeauty of his daughter ; he himself 
 Calls her a nonpareil : I ne'er saw woman, 
 But only Sycorax my dam and she; 
 But she as far surpasseth Sycorax, 
 As greatest does least. 
 
 Ste. Is it so brave a lass 7 
 
 Cat. A y. my lord : she will become thy bed, . 
 warrant. 
 And bring thee forth brave brood. 
 
 Ste. Monster, I will kill this man : his daughter 
 and I will be king and queen ; (save our graces!) 
 and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys: — Dost 
 thou like the plot, Trinculo? 
 
 Trin. Excellent. 
 
 Ste. Give me thy hand ; I am sorry I beat thee : 
 but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy 
 head. 
 
 Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep ; 
 Wilt thou destroy him then 7 
 
 Ste. ' Ay, on mine honor. 
 
 Ari. This will I tell my master. 
 Cal. Thou mak'st me 'merry : I am full of plea- 
 sure ; 
 Let us be jocund : Will you troll the catch 
 You taught me but while-ere 7 
 
 Sle. At thy request, monster, 1 will do reason, 
 any reason : Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Si»!j.«. 
 
 Flout 'em, and sliout 'em ; and sl<out 'em, and ^ 
 
 flout Uin ; 
 Thought i.5 free. 
 
 Cat. That's not the tune. 
 [.\niKL plai/s the tune on a tabor and pipe. 
 » .\lluding to Trinculo's party<olorcd dresi. 
 • Springs. » Throat. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 21 
 
 S/e. What is this same 7 
 
 Trin. This is the tune of our catch, plaj-ed by 
 the picture of N'o-body. 
 
 S.'e. If thou beest a man, sliow thyself in thy 
 likeness: if thou beest a devil, talie't as thou list. 
 
 Trill. 0, forgive me my sins ! 
 
 Ste. He that dies, pays all debts : I defy thee : — 
 Mercy upon us ! 
 
 Cai. Art thou afeard ? 
 
 Sfe. No, monster, not I. 
 
 Cat. Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, 
 Sounds and sweet airs, that give, delight and liurt 
 
 not. 
 .Sometimes a thousand twan^lin? mstruments 
 Will hum about mine ears ; and sometimes voices, 
 That, if I tlicn had wak'd after long sleep, 
 Wdl make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming. 
 The clouds, methought.would open, and sliow riches 
 Ready to drop upon me ; that, when 1 wakd, 
 I cry*d to dream aixain. 
 
 Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, 
 wliere I shall have my music for nothing. 
 
 Cal. When Prospcro is destroyed. 
 
 Ste. That shall be by and by : I remember tlie 
 story. 
 
 Trin. The sound is going away : let's follow it, 
 and after, do our work. 
 
 S/e. Lead, monster ; we'll follow. — I would I 
 could see this taborer: he lays it on. 
 
 Trin. Wiltcomn? Ill follow, Stephano. [£j;e«n/. 
 
 SCENE III. — Allot ker part of Me Island. 
 
 Enter Alovso, SEnASTiA>', Antonio, Gonzalo, 
 Adrian, Fuancisco, and ot/ters. 
 
 Con. By'r lakin," I can go no further, sir; 
 My old bones ache ; here's a maze trod, indeed. 
 Through forth-rights, and meanders ! by your pa- 
 tience, 
 I needs must rest me. 
 
 Altin. (lid lord, I cannot blame thee, 
 
 Who am myself attach'd with weariness. 
 To the dulhng of my spirits : sit down, and rest. 
 Even here 1 will put olt my hope, and keep it 
 No longer for my flatterer : he is drown'd. 
 Whom thus we stray to fmd ; and the sea mocks 
 Our frustrate search on land : well, let him go. 
 
 Ant. I am right glad that he's so out of hope. 
 {.iude to Skbastian. 
 Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
 That you resolv'd to effect. 
 
 Se.b. The next advantage 
 
 Will we take thoroughly. 
 
 Ant. T.et it he to-night ; 
 
 For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they 
 Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance. 
 As when they are fresh. 
 
 Seb. I say, to-night : no more. 
 
 Solemn and strans^e Musir ,- and Pbospkhip alore. 
 iiivmtile. r.nter Severn I strniiKe Shapes, tirina- 
 ing in a Banquet ; ttiei/ dance (fhortt it with 
 gentle actions of salutatimi ; and, inviting tlie 
 King, A'c. to eat, ttieij depart. 
 
 Alon. What harmony is this 1 my good friends, 
 hark ! 
 
 Gon. Marvelous sweet music ! 
 
 Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What 
 were these 1 
 
 Sell. A living drollery :« Now I will believe. 
 That there are unicorns: that in Arabia 
 There is one tree, the phoenix' throne ; one phoenix 
 At this hour reigning there. 
 
 Ant. I'll believe both ; 
 
 And what does else want credit, come to me, 
 And I'll be sworn 'tis true: Travelers ne'er did lie, 
 Tliougli fools at home condemn them. 
 
 Gon. If in Naples 
 
 I should report this now. would they believe me T 
 If I should say I saw such islanders, 
 (For, certes. these are people of the island.) 
 Who, though they are of monstrousshane, yet, note. 
 Their manners are more gentle-kind, than of 
 Our human generation you shall tind 
 Many, nay, almost any. 
 
 Pro. Honest lord. 
 
 Thou hast said well : for some of you there present 
 Are worse than devils. [Aside. 
 
 aOurla.Jy. «Show. 
 
 Alan. I cannot too much muse. 
 
 Such shapes, such gestures, and such sound, ev- 
 
 pressing 
 (Although they want the use of tongue) a kind 
 Of excellent dumb discourse. 
 I'ro. Praise in departing. 
 
 [Aside, 
 Fran, They vanish'd strangely. 
 Sell. No matter, since 
 
 They have left llieir viands behind ; for we have 
 
 stomachs. — 
 Will't please you taste of what is here 1 
 Alon. Not 1. 
 
 Con, Faith, sir, you need not fear : Wlien we 
 were boys. 
 Who would believe that there were moHntaineers, 
 Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging 
 
 at them 
 Wallets of flesh 1 or that there were such men. 
 Whose heads stood in their breasts ? which now 
 
 we And, 
 Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us 
 Good warrant of. 
 
 Alon. I will stand to, and feed, 
 
 Although my last: no matter, since I feel 
 The best is past: — Brother, my lord the duke. 
 Stand to, and do as we. 
 
 Thunder and liithtninfr. Enter Aiuki. like a 
 liarpij ; claps his ivirms ajyin the table, and, 
 with a quaint device, the banquet vani.ihes. 
 Ari. You are three men of sin, whom destiny 
 (That hath to instrument this lower world. 
 And what is in't.) the never-surfeited sea 
 Hath caused to belch up ; and on this island 
 Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men 
 Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad : 
 
 [Seeing Alon., Sek., iVc draw their swords. 
 And even with such like valor, men hang and 
 
 drown 
 Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows 
 Are ministers of fote; the elements 
 Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well 
 Wound the loud winds, or with bcmock'd-at stabs 
 Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
 One dowie' that's iii my plume; my fellow-ministers 
 Are like invulnerable : if you could hurt. 
 Your swords arc now too massy for your strengths. 
 And will not be upliflcd : But remember. 
 (For that's my business to you,) that you three 
 From Milan did supplant good Prospcro; 
 Expos'd unto the sea. which liath requit it. 
 II im, and his innocent child ; for which foul deed 
 The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have 
 Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, 
 Ai;ainst your peace : Thee of thy son, Alonso, 
 They have bereft! and do pronounce by me, 
 Lingering perdition (worse than any death 
 Can be at once) shall step by step attend 
 You, and your ways; w.ho3e wrath to guard you 
 
 from 
 (Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 
 l'I)on yiinr heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow, 
 And a clear" life ensuing. 
 
 He vani-thes in thunder: then, to soft music, enter 
 the Shapes again, and dance with mops and 
 niowes, and carry out the table. 
 Pro. \Aslie.\ Bravely the figure of this liarpy 
 hast thou 
 Perfonii'd. my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring : 
 t)f my instruction hast tliou nothini; 'bated. 
 In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life, 
 .\nd obser\'ation stranse, mv meaner ministers 
 Their several kinds have done : my high charms 
 
 work. 
 And these, mine enemies, are all knit up 
 In their distractions : they now are in my power; 
 And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit 
 Young Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is drown'd,) 
 And his and my lov'd darling. 
 
 [Exit PuosPEno from above, 
 Gon. r the name of something holy, sir, why 
 stand you 
 In this strange stare ? 
 
 Alon, O, it is monstrous ! monstrous ! 
 
 Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it ; 
 The winds did sing it to me ; and the timnder, 
 6 Down. 6 Pure, blameless 
 
'2-2 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 That deep and dreadful orf;an-pipc. pronounced 
 Tlie name of Prosper ; it did bass my trespass. 
 Therefore mj- son i' the ooze is bedded ; and 
 I'jl seek him deeper than e'er plumjnet sounded, 
 And witli him tliere lie niudded. [£.rit. 
 
 Sell. Ji ut one fiend at a time, 
 
 I'll fisht their legions o'er. 
 
 -i"l- I'll be thy second. 
 
 [Exeunt Skb. and Ast. 
 
 Con. All three of them are desperate; tlieir 
 great guilt, 
 Like poison given to work a great time after. 
 
 Now gins to bite the spirits : 1 do beseech yon 
 
 That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, 
 And hinder them from what this ecstasy 
 May now provoke them to. 
 '!'''■• Follow, I pray you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE h — Before Prosperous CelL 
 Enter Pnosptno, FEninsAXD, and MinA:?DA. 
 
 Pro. If I have too austerely punish'd you, 
 Your coinpensation makes amends ; for I 
 Have friven you here a tfircad of mine own life, 
 Or tliat for which I live ; whom once again 
 1 tender to thy hand ; all thy vexations 
 Were but my trials of thy love, and thou 
 Hast stran2:ely stood the test : here, afore heaven, 
 I ratify this my rich gift. Ferdinand, 
 ])o not smile at mc, that I boast her ofV, 
 For thou shall find she will outstrip all praise. 
 And make it halt behind her. 
 
 Fcr. I do believe it, 
 
 Against an oracle. 
 
 Pro. Then, asmyfrift, and thine own acquisition 
 Worthily purchas'd, take my dauirhter: But 
 If thou dost break her vir;^in knot before 
 All sanctimonious corcmnnies may 
 With full and holy rites he minister'd. 
 No sweet aspersion' shall the Iieavens let fall 
 To make this contract prow ; but barren hate, 
 Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 
 The union of your bed with weeds so loathly. 
 That you shall hate it both : tberet'ore, take heed. 
 As Hymen's lamps shall light you. 
 
 Fer. As I hope 
 
 For quiet days, fair issue, and Ions: life, 
 With such love as 'tis now ; the murkiest den. 
 The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion 
 Our worser Genius can, shall never melt 
 Mine honor into lust ; to take away 
 The edj:e of that day's celebration, 
 When I sliall think, or Phoebus' steeds are foun- 
 
 derd, 
 Or night kept chair'd below. 
 
 Pro. Fairly spoke : 
 
 Sit tiien. and talk with her, she is thine own. — 
 What, Ariel ; my industrious servant Ariel ! 
 
 Enter Arikl. 
 
 Ari. What would my potent master ? here I am. 
 
 Fro* Thou and thy meaner fellows your last ser- 
 vice 
 Did worthily perform; and I must use you 
 In such another trick : go, bring the rabble, 
 O'er wiiom I give thee power, Jierc to this place : 
 Incite them to quick motion ; for I must 
 IiPstow upon the eyes of thi'? young couple 
 Some vanity of mine art ; it is my promise, 
 And they expect it from me. 
 
 Ari. Presently '! 
 
 Pro. Ay, with a twink. 
 
 Ari. Refore you can say. Come, and go, 
 And breathe twice ; and cry, so,so ; 
 Kach one tripping on his ioe. 
 Will be here with mop and mowe; 
 Do you love me, master ! no. 
 
 Pro. Dearly, my delicate Ariel : do not approach, 
 Till thou dost hear me call. 
 
 Ari. Well I conceive. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. Look, thou bo true ; do not give dalliance 
 Too much the rein ; the strongest oaths are straw 
 To the tire i' the blood : be more abstemious, 
 Or else, good night, your vow! 
 
 Fi-r. I warrant you, sir; 
 
 Tiie white-cold viririn snow upon my heart 
 Abates the ardor of my liver. 
 ' Sprinkling. 
 
 Pro. Well.— 
 
 Now come, my Ariel; bring a corollary,*" . 
 Rather than want a spirit; appear, and pertly. — 
 No tongue ; all eyes ; be silent. [Soft music, 
 
 A Masque. E?iter Inrs. 
 Tn.9. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas 
 Of wheat, rye, barley, vetclies. oaLs. and peas ; 
 Thy turly mountains, where live nibhlins sheep, 
 And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; 
 Thy banks with peonicd and hllied brims, 
 AVhich spongy April at thy hest> betrims, 
 To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy 
 
 broom groves. 
 Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, 
 Heing lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ; 
 And thy sea-mar^e, stcrii, and rocky-hard, 
 Where thou thyself dost air: The queen o' the sky, 
 Whose w^ifry arch, and messenger, am I, 
 Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, 
 Here, on this grass-plot, in this very place. 
 To come and sport : her peacock's lly amain ; 
 Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 
 
 Enter Ceties. 
 Cer. Hail, many-colored messenger, that ne'er 
 Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; 
 Who, with ihy satlron wings, upon my tlowers 
 DilPuscst honey-drops, refreshing showers; 
 And with each end of thy blue bow dost cro\Mi 
 My boskys acres, and my unshrubb'd down. 
 Rich scarf to my proud earth; Why hath thy queen 
 Summon"d me hither, to this short-grass'd green'.' 
 
 Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate ; 
 And some donation freely to estate 
 On the blessd lovers. 
 
 Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow, 
 
 If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know. 
 Do now attend the queen ? since they did plot 
 The means, that dusky Dis» my dauL;hter got, 
 Her and her blind boy's scandalM company 
 I have forsworn. 
 
 Irt^. Of her society 
 
 Be n£t afraid ; I met her deity 
 Cutting the clouds toward Paphos ; and her son 
 Dove-drawn with her : here thought ilicy to have 
 
 done 
 Some wanton charm upon this man and maid. 
 Whose vows are, that no bed-rite shall be paid 
 Till Hymen's torch be li^dited: but in vain; 
 Mar's not minion is return'd airam ; 
 Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, 
 Swears he will shoot no more, but play with spar- 
 rows, 
 And be a boy right out. 
 
 Cer. Highest queen of state, 
 
 Great Jvmo comes : I know her by her gait. 
 
 Enter Juxo. 
 
 Juno. ITow does my bounteous sister ? Go with 
 me. 
 To bless this twain, that they may prosperous he, 
 And honor'd in their issue. 
 
 SONG. 
 Juno. Honor^ rirk^-i, rjiarriag-e-ble-'^ain^^ 
 Lons: confinj/onre, and iricreaMng, 
 IIimr!i/J<)Uft he s'iU upon you ! 
 Junn shi?:;^ tier blfi'^sinfcs on you. 
 " Alit-natioQ of mind 'Surplus. ' Command, 
 a Woody. " Pluto. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 23 
 
 Ccr. Earlk's increase, andfui'-on* jilenly ; 
 Barns, and ^arnci'S never en/ptif ; 
 Vines wilk clusVring bunches growing ; 
 Plants, n'Uh suudlij burden bowing ,- 
 Spring come hi you, at thefartluii, 
 In Ike very end of harvest .' 
 Scarcity and want shall shun tjou ; 
 Ceres' blessing su is on you. 
 Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and 
 Harmonious cJiarmingly : May I be bold 
 To tliinJv tliese spirits'! 
 
 Pro. Spirits, which by mine art 
 
 I have from their confines call'd to enact 
 My present fancies. 
 
 Per. Let me live here ever : 
 
 So rare a wonderM* father and a wife, 
 Make this place paradise. 
 
 [JcNO and Cents whisper, and send Iris 
 on employment. 
 Pro. . Sweet now, silence : 
 
 Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; 
 There's something else to do : hush, and be mute, 
 Or else our spell is marrd. 
 Iris. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wan- 
 d'rins brooks, 
 With your sedg'd crowns, andever harmless looks, 
 Leave your crisp channels, and on this ^'reeji land 
 Answer your summons ; Juno does command: 
 Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
 A contract of true iove ; be not too late. 
 
 Enter certain Nymphs. 
 You sun^urn'd sicklemcn, of Autrust weary. 
 Come hitlier from the furrow, and be merry ; 
 Malce lioly-day : your rye-straw hats put on. 
 And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
 In coutitry footing. 
 
 Enter certain Reapers, properly habited : they join 
 v:Uh the Nijmphs in a grateful dance; toward 
 the end wfiereof Phospkro starts suddenly and 
 spealvs ; after which, to a strange, hollow, and 
 confused noise, they heavily vanish. 
 Pro, [A»idf.] 1 had forgot that foul conspiracy 
 Of the beast Caliban, and his conl'ederates. 
 Against my life; the minute of their plot 
 Is almost come. — [To the Spirits.] Well done ; — 
 avoid; — no more. 
 Fer. Tliis is most strange : your father's in some 
 passion 
 That works him strongly. 
 
 ^tira. Never till this day. 
 
 Saw 1 him toucliM with anger so dislemperd. 
 Pro. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, 
 As if you were dismay'd : be cheerful, sir : 
 Our revels now are ended : these our actors. 
 As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
 Are melted into air. into thin air ; 
 And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. 
 Tile cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces. 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itsylf. 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; 
 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
 Leave not a rack behind: We'arc such stutf 
 As dreams are made of, and our little life 
 Is rounded witti asleep. — Sir, I am vex'd ; 
 Hear with ni3* weakness : my old brain is troubled. 
 Be not disturbed with my intirmity : 
 If you be pleasM. retire into my cell. 
 And there repose; a turn or two II walk, 
 To still my beating mind, 
 Fer. Mira. We wish you peace. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Pro. Come with a thought : — I thank you : — 
 Ariel, come. 
 
 Enter Auin. 
 Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to ; What's thy plea- 
 sure ! 
 Pro. Spirit, 
 
 We inust prepare to meet with Caliban. 
 Ari, Ay, my commander : when I presented 
 Ceres, 
 I thouglit to have told thee of it ; but I fear'd, 
 Lest I might anger thee. 
 Pro. Say again, where didst thou leave these 
 varlets 1 
 * Abundance. • AWe to produce such wonders. 
 
 Ari. I told you, sir, they were red hot with 
 drinking: 
 So full of valor, that they smote the air 
 For breathing in their faces: beat the ground 
 For kissing of their feet; yet always bending 
 reward their project: Then I beat my tabor, 
 .\t which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears, 
 Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses. 
 As they smelt music ; so 1 channM their ears. 
 That, calf-like, they my lowing followd, through 
 Toothd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and 
 
 thorns, 
 Which enter'd their frail shins ; at last I left them 
 V the lillhy mantled pool beyond your cell. 
 There dancing up to the chins, that tlie foul lake 
 O'er-stunk their feet. 
 
 Pro. This was well done, my bird. 
 
 Thy shape invisible retain thou still : 
 The trumpery in mv house, go, bring it hither. 
 For stale' to catch these thieves. 
 
 Ari. I go, I go. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. A devil, a bom devil, on whose nature 
 Nurture" can never stick ; on whom my pains. 
 Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ; 
 And as, with age, his body uglier grows, 
 So his mind cankers : I will plague them all. 
 
 Re-enter Ariel, loailen until glistering apjiarel, 
 
 Ac. 
 
 Even to roaring: — Come, hang them on this line. 
 
 PnnspEno and Ainr.i. rrmnin inrhi'ile. Enter 
 
 Calibax, Stepiiano, and TiiixcuLo, all wet. 
 
 Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that tile blind mole 
 may not 
 Hear a foot fall ; we now are near his cell. 
 
 Sle. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is .\ 
 harmless fairy, has done little better than "played 
 the Jack' with us. 
 
 Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss, at 
 which my nose is in great indignation. 
 
 Str. So is mine. Do you hear, monster 7 If I 
 should take a displeasure against you; look you, — 
 
 Trin. Thou wcrt but a lost monster. 
 
 Cat. Good mv lord, give me thy favor still : 
 Re patient, for the prize I'll bring tlice to 
 Shall hood-wink this mischance : Uierefore, speak 
 
 softly, 
 All's hush'd as midnight yet. 
 
 Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the poo!, — 
 
 Sle. There's not only disgrace and disinuior in 
 that, monster, but an inlinite loss. 
 
 Trin. Thai's more to nie tlian my welting : yet 
 this is your harmless fairy, monster. 
 
 Sle. I will fetch oil' niy bottle, tliough I be o'er 
 ears for my labor. 
 
 Cul. Pr'y thee.my king, he quiet : Secst thou here. 
 This is the mouth of the cell : no noise, and enter : 
 Do that good mischief, which may make tills island 
 Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, 
 For aye thy foot-licker. 
 
 Sle. Give me thy hand: I do begin to have bloody 
 thouglils. 
 
 Trin. n king Stcphano! O peer! O worthy 
 Stephono ! look what a waidrobe liere is for thee"! 
 
 Cal. Let it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash. 
 
 Trin. O, ho, monster; wo know what belongs to 
 a frippery:' — () king Slephano! 
 
 .S/(, P"ut olT that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand, 
 I'll have that gown. 
 
 Trin. Thy grace shall liave it. 
 
 Cat. I'he dropsy drown this fool ! what do you 
 mean. 
 To doat thus on sucli luggage 1 Let's along 
 And do the murder first: ifbe awake, 
 From toe to crov/n he II fill our skins with pinches; 
 Make us strange stnlf. 
 
 Sle. lie you quiet, monster. — Mistress line, i^ 
 not this my jerk.n ! Now is ti.e jerkin under the 
 lino: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, 
 and prove a bald jerkin. 
 
 Trill. Do, do: We steal byline and level, a'nt 
 like your grace. 
 
 Sle. 1 tliank tliee for that j-st ; here's a srarment 
 for't : wit shall not go unrewarded, wbiic I am king 
 of this country : Steal by line and Icrtl, is an ex- 
 cellent pass of pate ; there s another garment "br'U 
 • Bait. iLdiication. e.T;«:k with u lanli-m. 
 «.\ shop for sale of oU clothes. 
 
24 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Trin. Monster, come, put some liine^ upon your 
 fnii^ers, and awiiy with the rest. 
 
 Ca'. I will have none on't: we shall lose our time, 
 And all be tuni'd to barnacles, or to apes 
 With foreheads villaneous low. 
 
 Sfe. Monster, lay-to your fin°;ers ; help to bear 
 this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll 
 turn you out of my kingdom; go to, carry this. 
 
 Trin. And this. 
 
 .S7e. Ay* and this. 
 
 A nnUe of hunirrs heard. Enter divers Spirits, in 
 shape of fwunds^ and hunt them about ; Pkos- 
 PEHO and AuiEL setting them on. 
 
 Pro. Hey, Mountain, hey ! 
 
 ArL Silver ! there it goes, Silver/ 
 
 Pro. Funi ! Fury ! there. Tyrant, there ! hark, 
 hark ! 
 
 Cat,., Ste., and Ttiin, ore driven out. 
 no, charge my goblins that they grind their joints 
 With dry convulsions ; shorten up their sinews 
 With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make 
 
 them, 
 Than pard», or cat o' mountain. 
 
 Ari. Hark, they roar. 
 
 Pro. Let them be hunted soundly : at this hour 
 Lie at my mercy all mine enemies : 
 Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou 
 Shalt have the air at freedom : for a little. 
 Follow, and do me service. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE \. — Before the Cell of Prospero. 
 Enter PnospEno in his ynag^ic robins, and Ahiel. 
 
 Pro. Now does my project gather to a head : 
 My charms crack not; my spirits obey ; and time 
 Goes upright with his carriage. Hows the day 7 
 
 Ari. On the sixth hour ; at which time, my lord, 
 You said our work should cease. 
 
 Pro. I did say so. 
 
 When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit, 
 How fares the king and his] 
 
 Ari. Confin'd together 
 
 In the same fasliion as you gave in charge; 
 Just as you left tliem. sir; all prisoners 
 111 the liine-grove which weather-feuds'* your cell; 
 They i-annot budge, till you release. The king. 
 His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted ; 
 And the remainder mourning over them, 
 Iirim-t\)ll of sorrow and dismay ; but chiefly 
 Him you termd, sir. The good' old lord, Gonzalo ,• 
 His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
 From eaves of reeds: yourcharmso strong-ly works 
 
 them, 
 That if you now beheld them, your afTections 
 Would become tender. 
 
 Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit T 
 
 Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human. 
 
 Pro. And mine shall. 
 
 Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a tVebng 
 of their alTlictions] and shall not invsel;". 
 One of their kind, that relish all as sharply 
 Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? 
 Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the 
 
 quick. 
 Vet, with my nobler reason, ''gainst my fury 
 Do I take jiart : the rarer action is 
 In virtue than in vengeance; they being penitent, 
 The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
 Not a fVown further : Oo, release them, Ariel ; 
 My charms III break, their senses I'll restore. 
 And they shall be themselves. 
 
 Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pro, Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, 
 and groves ; 
 And ye, that on the sands with printless foot 
 Do cbase the ebbing Neptune, and do Ily him. 
 When he comes back ; you demi-pnppets, that 
 Hv moon-shine do the green-sour riniilets make. 
 Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime 
 Is to make midnight-mushrooms; that rejoice 
 To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid 
 (Weak masters though you be) I have be-dimm'd 
 The noon-tide sun, calPd forth the mutinous winds. 
 And 'tvvixt the ^reen sea and the azAir'd vault 
 Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder 
 Have 1 given fire, and rifled Jove's stout oak 
 \W\\h his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory 
 Have I mado shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up 
 The pine, and cedar: graves, at my command. 
 Have wak'd theirsleepers; oped, and let Iliem forth 
 Hv my so potent art: But this roui^h nia^iic 
 I )icre abjure: and. when I have requirM 
 Some lie:iven!y music, (which even now I do,) 
 » BirJ-lime. a Defends from bad weather. 
 
 To work mine end upon their senses, that 
 
 This airy charm is for, I'll break my stalf, 
 
 Bury it certain fathoms in the earth. 
 
 And deeper than did ever plummet sound, 
 
 I'll drown my book. [Solemn Music. 
 
 Re-enter Ariel : after him Aloxso, icith a frantic 
 gesture, attended by Gonzalo ; Sebastian and 
 Antonio i/i like manner attended /)j/ Ad in ax 
 and FnAN*"jsco : They all enter the cirele ichich 
 PnospETto had made, and there stand charmed ; 
 which PitosrETio observing, speaks. 
 
 A solemn air, and the best comforter 
 
 To an unsettled fancy, cure thy briiins. 
 
 Now useless, boiled within thy skull! There stand, 
 
 For you are spell-stopp'd. 
 
 Holy Gonzalo, honorable man. 
 Mine eyes, even sociable to the shew of thine. 
 Fall fellowly drops. — The charm dissolves apace; 
 And as the mornnig steals upon the niL'ht, 
 Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
 Hegin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
 Their clearer reason^ — O my good Gonzalo, 
 My true preserver, and a loyal sir 
 To him thou follnw'st ; I will pay thy graces 
 Home both in word and deed. — Most cruelly 
 Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter. 
 Thy brother was a furtheier in the act; — 
 Thbu'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. — Flesh and 
 
 blood. 
 You brotlier mine, that entertain'd ambition, 
 Expeird remorse' and nature; who. with Sehastian, 
 (Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,) 
 Woulil here have kill'd your king; 1 do forgivethee, 
 Unnatural though thou "art! — Their understanding 
 neizins to swell; and the approaching tide 
 Will shortly til! the reasonable shores, 
 That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them, 
 That yet looks on me, or would know me : — Ariel, 
 Fetch me the hat and rapier in my ceM ; 
 
 [Exit Ariel, 
 I will dis-case me, and my self present, 
 As I was sometime Milan : — quickly, spirit : 
 Thou shalt ere long be free. 
 
 AniEL re-enters, singing, and helps to attire 
 
 PuosrETio. 
 Ari. Where the hee sticks, thei'e suck I ; 
 In a coivslip''s bell I lie : 
 There I couch when oiids do cry. 
 On the bal^s back I dnfiy. 
 After summer merriiv : 
 Mfrrili/. inrrrilv, shall I live note. 
 Under the blossom, that hangs on the hough. 
 Pro. Why that's my dainty Ariel ; I shall miss 
 thee ; 
 But yet thou shalt have freedom : so, so, so. — 
 To the king's ship, invisible as thou art : 
 There shalt thou find the mariners asleep 
 Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain. 
 Being awake, enforce them to this place; 
 And presently, I pr'ythec. 
 
 ^r(. I drink the air before me, and return 
 Or e'er your pulse twice beat. [Exit Ariel 
 
 a Leopard. « Pity or tenderness of heart. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amaze- 
 ment 
 Inhabits I'.sre: some heavenly power guide us 
 Oat of this fearlul country ! 
 
 Pro. Behold, sir king, 
 
 The wrong'd Duke of jMilan, Prospero: 
 For more assurance that a livinj? prnice 
 Does now speak to thee, 1 embrace thy body : 
 And to tliee, and thy company, 1 bid 
 A hearty welcome. 
 
 Aluii. Whe'r' thou bcest he, or no. 
 
 Or SQTno enchanted trille to abuse me. 
 As late I have been, 1 not know ; tby pulse 
 lleats, as of flesh and bluod ; and since 1 saw thee. 
 The allliction of my mind amends, with which, 
 I fear, a madness held me : this must crave 
 (An if this be at all) a most strange story. 
 Thy dukedom 1 resign ; and do entreat 
 Thou pardon me my wrongs: — But how should 
 
 Prospero 
 Be livinc^ and be here 1 
 
 Pra. First, noble friend, 
 
 Let me embrace thine age ; whose honor cannot 
 Be measurd, or confin'd. 
 
 Gun. Whetlicr this be, 
 
 Or be not, I'll not swear. 
 
 Pro. You do yet taste 
 
 f5omc subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you 
 Believe things certain: — Welcome, my friends 
 
 all: — 
 But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, 
 
 lA.ii'le to StB. and Ast. 
 I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you, 
 And justify you traitors: at this time 
 I'll tell no tales. 
 
 Seb. The devil speaks in him. |.1sirfe. 
 
 Pro. No: — 
 
 For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
 Would even inti?ct my moutli, 1 do forgive 
 Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require 
 My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, 1 know, 
 Thou must restore. 
 
 Alan. If thou bcest Prospero, 
 
 Give us particulars of tby preservation : 
 How thou hast met us here, who three hours since 
 Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have 
 
 lost. 
 How sharp the point of this remembrance is ! 
 My dear son Ferdinand. 
 
 Pro. I am woe' fort, sir. 
 
 Almi. Irreparable is the loss ; and Patience 
 Says, it is past her cure. 
 
 Pro. I rather think. 
 
 You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace, 
 For the like loss, 1 have her sovereign aid, 
 And rest myself content. 
 
 Alon. You the like loss ! 
 
 Pro. As great to me, as late ; and, portable 
 To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker 
 Than you may call to comfort you : for 1 
 Have lost my daughter. 
 
 Alon. A dauglUer 1 
 
 heavens! that they were living both in Naples, 
 The king and queen there! that they were, 1 wish 
 Myself were muddod in that oozy bed 
 
 Where my son lies. When did you lose your 
 
 daughter'! 
 Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords 
 At this encounter do so much admire, 
 Tliat they devour their reason ; and scarce think 
 Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
 Are natural breath ; but howsoeer you have 
 lieen iuslled from your senses, know for certain, 
 That I am Prospero, and that very duke 
 Wliich was thrust forth of I\lilan; who most 
 
 strangely 
 Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was 
 
 landed. 
 To he the lord on't. No more yet of this ; 
 For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, 
 Not a relation for a breakfast, nor 
 Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir ; 
 This cell's my court : here have 1 few attendants. 
 And subjects none abroad : pray you look in. 
 My dukedom since you have given me again, 
 
 1 will requite you with as good a thing; 
 
 At leasi, bring' forlh a wonder, to content ye 
 As much as mc my dukedom. 
 
 • Whether. • Son- y. 
 
 2"Ae en/rance of Ih' cell opens, and Alscovers F£a- 
 uixAND and Miuaniia playing at chmn. 
 
 M'tra. Sweet lord, you play me false. 
 
 Ftr. No, my dearest love, 
 
 I would not for the world. 
 
 Mira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should 
 wrangle, 
 And I would call it fair play. 
 
 A ton. If tliis prove 
 
 A vision of the island, one dear son 
 Shall I twice lose. 
 
 Rrh. A most high miracle ! 
 
 i-'tr. Tho' the seas threaten, they are merciful ; 
 I'have curs'd them without cause. 
 
 Feiiu. linreli to Alox. 
 
 Alon. Now all the blessings 
 
 Of a glad father compass tliee about ! 
 Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. 
 
 Mlra. O ! wonder ! 
 
 How many goodly creatures are there here! 
 How beauteous mankind is! brave new world, 
 That has such people in't ! 
 
 Pro. 'Tis new to thee. 
 
 Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou wast 
 at play '! 
 Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houre: 
 Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, 
 2\nd brought us thus together ! 
 
 P'er. Sir, she's mortal ; 
 
 But, by immortal Providence, she's mine; 
 I eiiose her, when I could not ask my father 
 For his advice ; nor thought I had one: she 
 Is daughter to this famous duke of Milan, 
 Of whom so often I have heard renown. 
 But never saw before; of whom I have 
 Received a second life, and second father 
 This lady makes him to me. 
 
 .ilon. I am hers: 
 
 But O, how oddly will it sound, that I 
 Must ask my child forgiveness ! 
 
 Pro. There, sir, stop: 
 
 Let us not burden our remembrances 
 With a heaviness that's gone. 
 
 Gon. I have inly wept. 
 
 Or should have spoke ere tliis. Look down, you 
 
 gods. 
 And on this couple drop a blessed crown; 
 For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way 
 Which brought us hither! 
 
 Alon. I say. Amen, Gonzalo ! 
 
 Gon. Was Milan thrust from JVIilan.Uiat his issue 
 Should become kin^s of Naples ! O, rejoice 
 Beyond a common joy : and set it down 
 W^ith gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage 
 Did ciaribel her husband llnd at Tunis ; 
 And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife. 
 Where he himself was lost ; Prospero his dukedom 
 In a poor isle ; and all of us, ourselves. 
 When no man was his own. 
 
 Alon. Give mc your hands: 
 
 [To Fkii. anil MiuA. 
 Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart. 
 That doth not wish you joy ! 
 
 Gon. Be'tso! Amen! 
 
 Re-enter Ariel, tvilh the Master and Boatswain 
 aniu-cdly following. 
 
 look, sir, look, sir; here are more oi us ! 
 
 1 propliesied, if a gallows were on land, 
 
 Tills fellow could not drown : — Now, blasphemy. 
 That swear'st grace o'erboard, not nn oath on shore! 
 Hast thou no mouth by land ! What is the news 7 
 
 Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found 
 Our king, and company : the next our ship, — 
 Which, but tliree glasses since, we gave out split, 
 Is tight and yare,' and bravely rigg'd, as when 
 We first put out to sea. 
 
 An. Sir, all this service) 
 
 Have I done since I went. 
 
 Pro. My tricksy" 
 
 Alon. These are not natural events; they 
 strengthen 
 From strange to stranger: — Say, how came you 
 hither 1 
 
 Tioatx. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, 
 I'd strive to Icll you. We were dead of sleep. 
 And (how, we know not) all clapp'd under hatches, 
 '' Ecady. i Clevei, adroit. 
 
 is service) 
 
 \ Aside. 
 y» spirit ! j 
 
26 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Where, but even now, with stran^'C and several 
 
 noises 
 Of roaring, shrieking, howlin?, pinp^iins chains, 
 And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, 
 \Ve were awaJi'd ; straijihtway, at hl;erty : 
 Where we, hi all her trim, freslily beheld 
 Our roj-al, good, and gallant ship'; our master 
 Cap'ring to eye her : On a trice, so please you, 
 Kven in a dream, were we divided from them, 
 And were brought moping hither. 
 
 Ari. Wast well done 1) 
 
 Pro. Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt J. Aside. 
 be free. \ 
 
 Alo7i. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod; 
 And there is in this business more than nature 
 Was ever conduct* of; some oracle 
 Must rectify our knowledge. 
 
 Pro. Sir, my liege, 
 
 Do not infect your mind with beating on 
 The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure. 
 Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you 
 (Which to you shall seem probable) of every 
 These happen'd accidents: till when, be cheerful. 
 And think of each thing well. — Come hither, 
 spirit ; [Aiide. 
 
 Set Caliban and his companions free : 
 Untie the spell. [Exit Ahiel.] How fares my 
 
 gracious sir ? 
 There are yet missing of your company 
 Some few odd lads, that you remember not. 
 
 Re-enter Auiel, driving in Caiibax, Stephaxo, 
 and TnixcrLo, in ttieir stolen apparel. 
 
 Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no 
 man take care for himself; for all is but fortune : — 
 Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio ! 
 
 Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my 
 head, here's a goodly sight. 
 
 Cat. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed ! 
 How fine my master is ! I am afraid 
 }lc will chastise me. 
 
 Se!}. Ha, ha; 
 
 What things are these, my lord Antonio ] 
 Will money buy them 7 
 
 Ant. Very like, one of tliem 
 
 Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 
 
 Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords. 
 Then say if they be true:' — This mis-shapen knave, 
 His mother w.as a witch ; and one so strong 
 That could control the moon, make Hows and ebbs. 
 And deal in her command, without her power: 
 These three have robb'd me ; and this demi-devil 
 (For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them 
 To take my life : two of tliese fellows you 
 
 Must know, and own ; this thing of darkness I 
 Acknowledge mine. 
 
 Cut. I shall be pinch'd to death. 
 
 Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler' 
 
 Seb. He is drunk now : Where had he wine 1 
 
 Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: Where 
 should they 
 Find this grand licjuor that hatli gilded them '! — 
 How cam'st thou m this pickle 1 ' 
 
 Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw 
 you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my 
 bones: 1 shall not fear tlv-blowini. 
 
 Seb. Why, how now, Stephano 1 
 
 Ste. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but a 
 cramp. 
 
 Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah 1 
 
 Ste. I should have been a sore one then. 
 
 Aloti. This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd 
 on- [Pointing to Ca-likas. 
 
 Pro. He is as disproportion 'd in his manners, 
 .\s in his shape : — Go. sirrah, to my cell ; 
 Take with you your companions ; a's you look 
 To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 
 
 Cat. Ay, that I will ; .and I'll be wise hereafter. 
 And seek for grace : What a thrice-doubled ass 
 Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, 
 And worship this dull fool 1 
 
 Pro. Go to ; away ! 
 
 Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where 
 you found it. 
 
 Seb. Or stole it, rather. 
 
 [Exeunt Cat.., Ste., and Tnijr. 
 ■ Pro. Sir. I mvite your highness, and your train. 
 To my poor cell : where you shall take vour rest 
 For this one nisht ; which (part of it) I'll waste 
 With such discourse, as. I not doubt, .-ihaU make it 
 Go quick away : the story of my life, 
 And the particular accidents gone by. 
 Since I came to this isle : And in the morn, 
 I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, 
 Where I have hope to see the nuptial 
 Of these our dear beloved solenmiz'd ; 
 And thence retire me to my Milan, where 
 Every third thought shall be my grave. 
 
 Alon. Hong 
 
 To hear the story of your life, which must 
 Take the ear strangely. 
 
 Pro. I'll deliver all ; 
 
 And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, 
 And sail so expeditious, that shall catch 
 Your royal fleet far oft'. — My Ariel ; — chick. 
 That is thy charge ; then to the elements 
 Be free, and tare thou well ! — [,4iK/f.] Please you 
 draw near. [Exeunt. 
 
 EPILOGUE. — Spol-en by Prospero. 
 
 Now my charms are alt overthrown. 
 And ivhat strength I liave's mine own ; 
 Wliich is most faint : noir, '/!.■< true, 
 I must be here confined hi vini. 
 Or sent to Naples .- Let me'nol. 
 Since I have nui dukedom got. 
 And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell 
 In this bare U:land, bi/ your spell ; 
 But release me from 'my bands. 
 With tlie help of your good hands.'' 
 Conductor. • Honest 
 
 tApphiuse; noise was supposed to dissolve a spell. 
 
 Gentle breath of yours my sails 
 Must fill, or el.'^e my project fails. 
 Which was to plea.'ic: Now t want 
 Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ; 
 And mu ending is despair. 
 Unless I be relieved btj prayer ; 
 Which pierces so, that it cissnul/s 
 Mercy itself, a7id frees nllfuults. 
 
 As you from crimes would pardoned &e, 
 Let your indulgence set me free. 
 
TWO GENTLEMEN OF YERONxi. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Duke of Milan, Father to Silvia. 
 I'^tl^'Zl^^' ] Gentlemen of Verona. 
 An'ton'io, Father to Proteus. 
 Thuhio, u foolish Rival to Valentine. 
 EoLA?iOUR, Agent for Silvia in hei- Escape, 
 SrF.Eii, a clownish Servant to Valentine. 
 Lauxce, Scn'anl to Proteus. 
 
 Pan-thixo, Servant to Antonio. 
 Host where Julia lodges in MUan. 
 Outlaws, 
 
 Julia, a iMity of Verona, beloved by Proteus. 
 Silvia, llie Duke's Daughter, beloved by Valentine. 
 LucETTj, Waiting-woman to Julia. 
 
 Servants, Musicians. 
 SCENE, so?nelimes in Verona ; sometimes in Milan ; a«d on the Frontiers of Mantua. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — An open Place in Verona. 
 Enter Valentine and PnoTEus. 
 
 Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus ; 
 Tlome-keepini^ j'outh have ever homely wits: 
 Wer't not atTection chains thy tender days 
 ■ To the sweet silances of thy honor'd love, 
 I ratlier vi'ould entreat thy rompany. 
 To see the wonders ol' the world abroad. 
 Than livins dully sluirirardizM at home. 
 Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. 
 But, since thou lovst, love still, and thrive therein. 
 Even as I would, when I to love be?in. 
 
 Fro. Wilt thou beijone 1 Sweet Valentine, adieu! 
 Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest 
 Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel : 
 Wish me partal<er in "thy happiness. 
 When thou dost meet Rood hap ; and, in thy danger, 
 If ever daneer do environ thee. 
 Commend the srievanee to my holy prayers, 
 For I will he thy bead's-man, Valentine. 
 
 TV//. And on a love-book pray for my success. 
 
 Pro. I'pen some book I love. Til pray lor thee. 
 
 T^o/. Tliat's on some shallow story of deep love. 
 How younij Leander eross'd the Hellespont. 
 
 Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love ; 
 For he was more than over shoes in love. 
 
 Val. 'Tis true ; for you are over boots in love. 
 And yet you never sw'am the Hellespont. 
 
 Pro. 0\cT the hoots ? nay, give me not the boots. • 
 
 Val. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not. 
 
 Pro. What ? 
 
 17//. To be 
 
 In love, where scorn is bought with groans ; coy 
 
 looks. 
 With heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth, 
 Witii twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights; 
 If haply won. perhaps, a hapless gain ; 
 If lost, "why then a grievous labor won; 
 However, but a folly bought with wit. 
 Or else a wit by folly vanquished. 
 
 Pro. So. by your circumstance, you call me fool. 
 
 Val. So. by your circumstance, 1 fear, you'll prove. 
 
 Pro. 'Tis love you cavil at ; I am not Love. 
 
 Val. Love is your master, for he masters you : 
 And he that is so yoked by a fool, 
 
 » A humorous punishment at harvcst-home feasts, &C. 
 
 Melhinks .should not be chronicled for wise. 
 
 Pro. Yet writers say. As in the sweetest bud 
 The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
 Inhabits in tlic finest w its of all. 
 
 Vol. And writers say. As the most forward bud 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
 Even so by love the young and tender wit 
 Is turn'd to folly ; bhasting in the bud, 
 Losing its verdure even in the prime, 
 .•\nd all the fair elTects of future hopes. 
 Hut wherefore waste I time to counsel thee, 
 Tliat art a votary to fond desire '.' 
 Dncc more adieu : my fatiier at the road 
 Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd. 
 
 Pro. And thither 1 will bring thee, Valentine. 
 
 Val. Sweet Proteus.no; now let us take our leave. 
 At Milan let me hear from thee by letters. 
 fM' thy success in love, and what iiews else 
 P.ctideth here in absence of thy friend ; 
 And I likewise will visit thee witJi mine. 
 
 Pro. All happiness bechance to tliee in Milan! 
 
 Vol. As much to you at home ! and so farewell ! 
 [Exit Valentine. 
 
 Pro. He after honor hunts, 1 after love : 
 He leaves his friends to dignify them more ; 
 1 leave myself, my friends, and jU for love. 
 Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me ; 
 Made me neglect my studies, lose my time. 
 War Willi good counsel, set the world at nought ; 
 Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with 
 thought. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Speed. Sir Proteus, save you : saw you my 
 master 1 
 
 Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for 
 Milan. 
 
 Speed. Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already ; 
 And I have play'd the sheep in losing him. 
 
 Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, 
 And if the shepherd be awhile away 
 
 Speed. You conclude that my master is a shep- 
 herd then, and 1 a sheep '! 
 
 Pro. I do. 
 
 S.yed. Why then my horns are his horns, whether 
 I wake or sleep. 
 
 Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. 
 27 
 
28 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act 1 
 
 Speed, This proves me still a sheep. 
 Pi-o. True ; and thy master a shepherd. 
 Speed. Nay, tliat I ean deny by a circumstance. 
 Pro. It shall go hard, but 111 prove it by another. 
 Sperd. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not 
 the sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my master, and 
 my master seeks not. nie ; therefore, I am no sheep. 
 'I'm. The sncep for fodder follow the shepherd, 
 the shepherd for food follows not the sheep ; thou 
 for wa-ies foUowest thy master, thy master for wages 
 follows not thee : therefore thou art a sheep. 
 Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa. 
 Pro. But dost thou hear ! gav'st thou my letter 
 to Julia ^ 
 
 Speed. Ay. sir : I, a lost mutton, gave your letter 
 to her, a laced mutton ;■■ and she. a laced mutton, 
 gave me, a lost muttO[i, nothing for my labor. 
 
 Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store 
 of muttons. 
 
 Speed. 1 f the ground be overcharged, you were 
 best stick her. 
 
 Pro. Nay, in that you are astray, 'twere best 
 pound you. 
 
 Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me 
 for carrying your letter. 
 Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pinfold. 
 Speed. From a pound to a pin .' fold it over and 
 over, 
 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your 
 lover. 
 Pro. But what said she? did she nod ? 
 
 [Speed nods. 
 Speed. I. 
 
 Pro. Nod, I T why, that's noddy." 
 Speed. You mistook, sir ; I say, she did nod : 
 and you ask me. if she did nod ; and 1 say, I. 
 Pro. And that set together, is — noddy. 
 Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it 
 together, take it for your pains. 
 J'ro. No, no, you sliall have it for bearing the letter. 
 Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear 
 with you. 
 Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me ? 
 Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly ; having 
 nothing but the word, noddy, for "my pains. 
 Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. 
 Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow 
 
 purse. 
 Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: 'What 
 said she '! 
 
 Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and 
 the matter, may he both at once delivered. 
 
 Fro. Well, sir, hero is for your pains: What 
 said she 1 
 
 Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. 
 Pro. Why? Couldst thou perceive so much 
 from her ] 
 
 Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from 
 her ; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your 
 ' letter : And being so hard to me that brought your 
 mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling 
 lier mind. Give her no token but stones ; for she's 
 as hard as steel. 
 Pro. What, said she nothing ? 
 
 Speed. Nc,not so much as fake ^hv^for thy 
 
 pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, yoti 
 nave testern'd* me ; in requital whereof, henceforth 
 carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I '11 commend 
 you to my master. 
 Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from 
 wreck ; 
 Which cannot perish, having thee aboard. 
 Being destined to a drier death on shore ; — 
 I must go send some better messenger ; 
 I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines. 
 Receiving them from such a worthless post. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — The same. Garden o/ Julia's house. 
 Enter JvLik fl«d Lucetta. 
 Jut. But say, L\icetta, now we are alone, 
 Wouldst thou then counsel me to fiill m love 1 
 Luc. Ay. madam, so you stumble not unheed- 
 
 fcilly. 
 /;//. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, 
 TlKit every day with parle encounter me, 
 In thy opinion, which is worthiest love ? 
 
 * A term for a courtezan. ' A game at carda. 
 *QiTon me a Bixpencc. 
 
 Luc. Please you, repeat their names, 111 show 
 my mind 
 According to my shallow simple skill. 
 Jul. Whatthink'st thou of tlie fair Si." Eglamourl 
 Luc. As of a knight well spoken, neat and fine: 
 But were 1 you, he never should be mine. 
 Jut. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio' 
 Luc. Well of his wealth ; but of himself, so, M 
 Jut. What think St thou of the gentle Proleus' 
 Ijic. Lord, lord ! to see what folly reigns in U3 . 
 Jut. How now ! what means this passion at his 
 
 name ! 
 Luc Pardon, dear madam ; 'tis a passing shame, 
 That I, unworthy body as I am, 
 Should censure* thus on lovely gentlemen. 
 Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? 
 
 Luc- Then thus, of many good I think hira 
 
 best. 
 Jut. Your reason ? 
 
 Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason ; 
 I think him so, because I think him so. 
 Jut. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on 
 
 him 'I 
 Ltie. Ay. if you thought your love not cast away. 
 Jut. Why. he of all the rest, hath never mov'd me, 
 I^ue. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. 
 Jut. His little speaking shows his love but small. 
 Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all. 
 Jut. They do not love, that do not show their love. 
 Luc. O, they love least, that let men know their 
 
 love. 
 ^Jul. I would I knew his mind. 
 I^uc. Peruse this paper, madam. 
 
 Jul. To Julia, — Say, from whom 1 
 Luc. That the contents will show, 
 
 /(//. Say, say ; who gave it thee! 
 Luc. Sir 'Valentine's page; and sent, I think, 
 from Proteus: 
 He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, 
 Did in your name receive it; pardon the fn ult, I jiray. 
 
 Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!* 
 Dare vou presume to harbor wanton lines ! 
 To whisper and conspire against my youth T 
 Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth. 
 And you an officer fit for the place ; 
 There, take the paper, see it be return'd, 
 Or else return no more into my sight. 
 Luc.'To plead for love deserves more fee than 
 
 hate. 
 Jut. Will you begone ? 
 
 Luc. That you may ruminate. [E.vi/. 
 
 Jut. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. 
 It were a shame to call her back again. 
 And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. 
 W'hat fool is she, that knows I am a maid, 
 Aiul would not force the letter to my view ] 
 Since maids, in niodisly, say No, to that 
 Which they would have the protlerer construe, Ay, 
 Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love. 
 That, hke a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
 And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod ! 
 How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, 
 When willingly I would have had her here! 
 How angrily r taught my brow to frown. 
 When inward joy eiiforcd my heart to smile ! 
 My penance is, to call Lucetta back. 
 And ask remission for my folly past : — 
 What ho! Lucetta! 
 
 Re-enter Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. What would your ladyship ? 
 
 Jul. Is it near dinner time 1 
 
 Luc. I would it were ; 
 
 That you might kill your stomach' on your meat, 
 And not upon your maid. 
 
 Jul. W^hat is't you took up 
 
 So gingerly 1 ■ 
 
 Luc. Nothing. 
 
 Jut. Why didst thou stoop then ? 
 
 Iaic. To take a paper up that I let fall. 
 
 Jul. And is that paper nothing 1 
 
 J^uc. Nothing concerning me. 
 
 Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. 
 
 Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, 
 Unless it have a false interpreter. 
 
 Jul. Some love of yoturs hath writ to you in 
 rhyme. 
 s Pj\ss sentenco. c Matchmaker. 
 
 1 PassioQ or obstiDacy. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TWO GEXTLEiMEX OF VERONA. 
 
 29 
 
 Luc. That I ini;;ht sin^ it, madam, to a tune : 
 Give me a note: your ladysiiip can set. 
 
 ■Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible ; 
 Best sins '' '" the tune of Lighl o' love. 
 
 L'-ic. It is too heavy for so light a tune. 
 
 Jul. Heavy ! belike it hath some burden, then. 
 
 Luc. Ay ; and melodious were it, would you 
 sing it. 
 
 J:t!. And why not you 1 
 
 Lie. I cannot reach so his:h. 
 
 Jul. Let's see your song : — How now, minion 1 
 
 L'lc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: 
 And yet, methniks, 1 do not like this tune. 
 
 Jul. You do not J 
 
 i'/c. No, madam; it is too sharp. 
 
 Jut. You, minion, are too saucy. 
 
 Luc. Nay, now you are too Ilat, 
 And mar the concord with loo harsh a descant ;' 
 Tfiere wanteth but a mean" to till your song. 
 
 Jut. The meanis drown'd with yourunruly base. 
 
 Luc. Indeed I did the base' for Proteus. 
 
 Jut. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. 
 Here is a coil"* with protestation ! 
 
 [Tears Ike teller. 
 Go, get you gone ; and let the papers lie : 
 Y'ou would be fingering tliem, to anger me. 
 
 L'M. She makes it strange; but she would be 
 best pleas'd 
 To be so anger'd with another letter. [EtH. 
 
 Jul. Nav, would I were soanger'd with the same! 
 
 iiatet'ul hands, to tear such loving words ! 
 Injurious wasps ! to feed on4uch sweet honey. 
 And kill the bees, that yield it, with your stings ! 
 ril kiss each several paper for amends. 
 
 And liere is writ — kind Julia ; — unkind Julia ! 
 As in revenge of thy ingratitude, 
 
 1 throw thy name against the bruising stones, 
 Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
 Look, here is writ — tove-wuunded Proteus : — 
 Poor wounded name ! my bosom as a bed. 
 
 Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thorouglily heal'd: 
 
 And thus 1 search it witb a .sovereign kiss. 
 
 But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down 1 
 
 Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away, 
 
 Till I have found each letter in the letter, 
 
 Kxcept mine own name ; thatsome whirlwitidbear 
 
 Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, 
 
 And throw it thena; into tlie raging sea ! • 
 
 Lo, here in one line is his name" twice writ, — 
 
 Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
 
 To tlie sweet Julia : — that I'll tear away ; 
 
 And yet I will not, sith so prettily 
 
 He couples it to his complaining names: 
 
 Thus will I fold them one upon another ; 
 
 Now kiss, embrace, coi^tend, do what you will. 
 
 Re-enter Llcetta. 
 
 Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father 
 
 slays. 
 /■(/. ^Vell, let us go. 
 Luc. Wliat, shall these papers lie like tell-tales 
 
 here \ 
 Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. 
 Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down : 
 Y'et here they shall not lie, for catching cold. 
 Jul. I see 5'ou have a month's mind to them. 
 Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you 
 
 see ; 
 I sec things too, although you judge I wink. 
 Jut. Coiiie, come, wili't please you go 1 [Extunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — Tlie same. >4 roo;rt !« Antonio's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Panthixo. 
 
 Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad' talk was that. 
 Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister'! 
 Pant. "Pwas of his nephew Proteus, your son. 
 Ant. Why, what of him'! 
 
 Punt. He wonder'd that your lordship 
 
 Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; 
 While other men, of slender reputation,* 
 Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: 
 Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there: 
 Some, to discover islands far away ; 
 Some, to the studious universities. 
 For any, or for all these exercises, 
 
 • A term in music * The t^nor in music. 
 
 1 A ch.illenge. ^ IJii«tle, stir. 
 
 ■ Serious. « Little consequence. 
 
 He said, that Proteus, your son. was meet; 
 And did request me to imp6rtune you, 
 To let him spend his time no more at home, 
 Which would be great impeachment* to his age, 
 In having known no travel in his youth. 
 
 Ant. Nor need'st thou much imp6rtune me to 
 that 
 Whereon this month I have been hammering. 
 I have consider'd well his loss of time ; 
 And how he cannot be a perfect m m. 
 Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world : 
 Experience is by industry achiev'd. 
 And perfected by the swift course of time ; 
 Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him? 
 
 Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant, 
 How his companion, youthful Valentine, 
 Attends the emperor in his royal courU 
 
 Ant. I know it well. 
 
 Pant. 'Pwere good, I think, your lordship sent 
 him thither : 
 There shall he practise tilts and tournaments. 
 Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen ; 
 And be in eye of every exercise 
 Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. 
 
 Ant. I like thy counsel ; well hast tliou advis'd : 
 And tliat thou mayst perceive how well I like it. 
 The execution of it shall make known ; 
 Even with the speediest execution 
 I will dispatch him to the emperor's court. 
 
 Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- 
 phonso. 
 With other gentlemen of goodesteem, 
 .\re journeying to salute the emperor. 
 And to commend their service to his will. 
 
 Ant. (iood company; with them sliall Proteus go; 
 And, in good time, — now will we break with him." 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life ! 
 Here is her hand the agent of her heart ; 
 Here is her oath for love, her honor's pawn : 
 O, that our fathers would applaud our loves. 
 To seal our happiness with their consents ! 
 
 heavenly Julia ! 
 
 Ant. How now? what letter are you reading 
 there ! 
 
 Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or 
 two 
 Of commendation sent from Valentine, 
 Deiiver'd by a friend that came from him. 
 
 Ant. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news. 
 
 Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he 
 writes 
 How happily he lives, how well belov'd, 
 And daily graced by the emperor; 
 Wishing'inc with him, partner of his fortune. 
 
 Ant. And how stand you alTertcd to his wish : 
 
 Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will. 
 And not depending on his friendly wish. 
 
 Ant. .My will is something sorted with his wish : 
 Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; 
 For what I will, I will, and there an end. 
 
 1 am rcsnlv'd. that thou shalt spend some time 
 V\^ith Valentinus in the emperor's court ; 
 What maintenance he from his friends receives, 
 Like exhibitions thou shalt have from me. 
 To-morrow be in readiness to go : 
 
 Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. 
 
 Pro. M y lord. I cannot be so soon provided ; 
 Please yoii. deliberate a day or two. 
 yl»/. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after 
 thee: 
 No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go. — 
 Come on. Panthino ; you shall be employ'd 
 To hasten on his expedition. 
 
 {Exeunt Ant. and P.»>"t. 
 Pro. Tluis have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of 
 burning ; 
 And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd: 
 I fear'd to show my father Julias letter. 
 Lest he should take exceptions to my love ; 
 Ami with the vantage of mine own excuse 
 Hath he excepted most against my love. 
 O. how this spring of love resemtilcth 
 
 The uncertain glory of an Aprd day ; 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun. 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 
 * Reproach. ^ Break the matter to him. 
 
 ' Wonder. 8 Allowance. 
 
30 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Re-enter Pantiiino. 
 Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you ; 
 He is iii haste, therefore, 1 pray you, go. 
 
 Pro. Why, this it is : my heart accords thereto; 
 And yet a thousand times it answers, no. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — Jlilan. An Apartment in the Dukc'3 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Valentine and Speed. 
 
 Speed. Sir, your glove. 
 
 Val. Not mine ; my gloves are on. 
 
 Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is 
 but one. 
 
 Val. Ha ! let me see : ay give it me, it's mine : — 
 Sweet ornament that declis a thing divine ! 
 Ah Silvia! Silvia! 
 
 Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia! 
 
 Val. How now, sin"ah ] 
 
 Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. 
 
 Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her 1 
 
 Speed. Your worsliip, sir ; or else I mistook. 
 
 Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. 
 
 Speed. And yet 1 was last chidden for being too 
 slow. 
 
 Val. Go to, sir ; tell me, do you know madam 
 Silvia 1. 
 
 Speed. She that your worship loves? 
 
 Val. Why, how know you that I am in lovel 
 
 Speed. ]Marry, by these special marks: First, you 
 have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms 
 like a male-content; to relish a love song, like a 
 rol)in-red-breast; to walk alone, like one that had 
 the pestilence: to sigh, like a school-boy that had 
 lost his .\, B, C ; to weep, hke a young wench that 
 had buried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes 
 diet;s to watch. like one that fears robbing; to speak 
 puling, like a beggar at IIallowmas.» You wore 
 wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock ; when 
 you walked, to walk like one of the lions ; when 
 you fasted, it was presently afterdinner; when you 
 looked sadly, it was for want of money ; and now 
 you are metamorphosed witii a mistress, that, when 
 I look on you. I can hardly think you my master. 
 
 Val. Are all these things perceived in mel 
 
 Speed. They are all perceived without you. 
 
 Val. Without me ! They cannot. 
 
 Speed. Without youl nay, that's certain, for 
 without you were so simple, none else would : but 
 you are so without these follies, that these follies 
 are within you, and shine through you like the 
 water in a urinal ; that not an eye, that sees you, 
 but is a physician to comment on your malady. 
 
 Vat. But, tell me. dost thou know my lady Silvia'! 
 
 Sp'-ed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at 
 supper! 
 
 ('(//. Hast thou observed that 1 even she I mean. 
 
 Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. 
 
 Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, 
 and yet know'st her not '! 
 
 Speed. Is she not hard favored, sirt 
 
 Val. Not so fair, boy, as well favored. 
 
 Speed. Sir, I know tliat well enough. 
 
 Val. What dost thou know '! 
 
 Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well 
 favored. 
 
 Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her 
 favor infinite. 
 
 Speed. That's because the one is painted, and 
 the other ovit of all count. 
 
 Val. How painted 1 and how out of count 7 
 
 Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, 
 tliat no man counts of her beauty. 
 
 Val. How estcemest thou me! I account of her 
 beauty. 
 
 Speed. Y"ou never saw her since she was de- 
 formed. 
 
 Val. How long hath she been deformed ! 
 
 Speed. Ever since you loved her. 
 
 Vat. I have loved her ever since I saw her ; and 
 clill I see her beautiful. 
 
 9 Under a rcEimcn. t AllballovrmM. 
 
 Speed, If you love her, you cannot see her. 
 
 Vat. Why? 
 
 Speed. Because love is blind. 0, that you nad 
 mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were 
 wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus for going 
 unirartercd. 
 
 Vat. What should I see then 1 
 
 .'ipeed. Your own present folly, and her passing 
 deformity : for he, being in love, could not see to 
 garter his hose ; and you, being in love, caimot see 
 to put on your hose. 
 
 Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love ; for last 
 morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. 
 
 Speed. True, sir; I was in love with niv bed; I 
 thank you, you swinged' me for my love, which 
 makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. 
 
 T7//. In conclusion, I stand atl'ected to her. 
 
 S;iecd. I would you were set ; so, your aflcclion 
 would cease. ♦ 
 
 ^'at. Last night she enjoined me to write some 
 lines to one she loves. 
 
 Speed. A nd have you ^ 
 
 Val. I have. 
 
 Speed. Are they not lamely writ ? 
 
 Vat. No, boy, but as well as I can do them : — 
 Peace, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 
 Speed. excellent motion!' O exceeding pup- 
 pet ! now will he interpret to her. 
 
 Val, Madam and mistress, a tiiousand good- 
 moripws. 
 
 Speed, O, give you good even! here's a million 
 of manners. [Axide. 
 
 Sit. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thou- 
 sand. 
 
 Speed. He should give herinterest ; and she gives 
 it him. [Aside. 
 
 Val. As you enjoin'd me, I havewTit your letter, 
 T'nto the secret nameless friend of yours ; 
 Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, 
 But for my duty to your Ij^dyship. 
 
 Sit. I thank you, gentle servant, 'tis very clerkly* 
 done. 
 
 Vat. Now, trust me, madam, it came hardly off; 
 For being ignorant to whom it goes, 
 I writ at random, very doubtfully. 
 
 Sit. Perchance you think too much of so much 
 pains! 
 
 Val. No, madam; so it stead you, 1 will write. 
 Please you command, a thousand times as much: 
 And yet, — 
 
 Sit. A pretty period ! Well, I guess the sequel ; 
 And yet 1 wiU'not name it : — and yet I oare not; 
 And yet take this again ; — and yet 1 tliank you ; 
 Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. 
 
 Speed. And yet you will; aiid yet another yet. 
 
 [A.side. 
 
 Vat. What means your ladyship 7 do you not 
 like it? 
 
 Sil. Y'es, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ, 
 But since unwillingly, take them again ; 
 Nav, take them. 
 
 Val. Madam, they are for you. 
 
 Sit. Ay, ay ; you writ them, sir, at my request: 
 But I will none of them ; they are for you : 
 I would liave had them writ more movingly. 
 
 J'at. Please you, I'll write your lad j-^bip another. 
 
 Sit. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over; 
 And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. 
 
 IV//. I f it please me, madam ! wliattben? 
 
 Sit. Why, if it please you, take it for your labor; 
 And so good-morrow, servant. [Ei'it Silvia 
 
 Speed. jest unseen inscrutable, invisible, 
 9 Whipped. 3 A pu J pet-show, 
 
 * Like a Fcholar. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 TWO GEN'TLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 31 
 
 As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a 
 
 steeple ! 
 My master sues to her; and she hath taught her 
 
 suitor. 
 Hr beinn lier pupil, to become her tutor. 
 excellent device ! was there ever heard a better 1 
 That my master, being scribe, to liimsclf should 
 write the letter ! 
 
 Va!. How now, sir ? what are you reasoning 
 with yourself! 
 
 Speed. Nay, I was rhyming; 'tis you that have 
 the reason. 
 
 Val. To do what 1 
 
 Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. 
 
 Val. To whom 1 
 
 Speed. To yourself: why, she woos you by a 
 figure? 
 
 Val. What figure 1 
 
 Speed. Hv a letter, I should say. 
 
 Vat. Why, she Imth not writ to me. 
 
 Speed. What need she. when she hath made you 
 write to yourself! Why,doyou not perceive the jest! 
 
 Viil. No, believe me. 
 
 Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir: But did 
 you perceive her earnest ^ 
 
 Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. 
 
 Soced. Why, slie hath given you a Iptler. 
 
 Val. That's the letter 1 writ to her friend. 
 
 Speed. And that letter hath she dehvered, and 
 there an end. 
 
 Val. I would it were no worse. 
 
 Speed, ril warrant you, 'tis as well. 
 For often you have writ to her ; and she, in mo- 
 
 deMif, 
 Or else for rntnt nf idle time, could not again reply; 
 Or fea'rinf! else some messenger, that might her 
 
 iiiiad discover, 
 Ikrsrlf hulh tauKhi her love himself to write unto 
 
 her luver. — 
 All this I speak in print ; for in print I found it, — 
 Why muse you sir ! 'tis dinner-time. 
 
 Val. I have dined. 
 
 Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir : though the chame- 
 leon Love can feed on the air, I nni one that am 
 nourished by my victuals, and would fain have me«l: 
 () be not Uke your mistress ; be moved, be moved. 
 
 ' [Kieunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Verona. A rnoni in Julia's Hmise. 
 Enter PnoTF.rs and Julia. 
 Pro. Have patience, gentle .Tulia. 
 Jul. I must, where is no remedy. 
 Pro. When possibly I can, I wdl return. 
 Jul. If you turn not, you will return tlic sooner: 
 Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. 
 
 [Giving a ring. 
 Pro. W' hy then we'll make exchange ; here take 
 
 you this. 
 Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. 
 Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ; 
 And when that hour o'erslips me in the day, 
 Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake. 
 The next ensuing hour some foul mischance 
 Torment me for my love's forgetfulness ! 
 My father stays my comjng ; answer not; 
 The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears; 
 That tide will stay me longer than I should : 
 
 [Exit JriTA. 
 Julia, ferewcll. — What ! gone without a word '! 
 Ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak; 
 For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. 
 Enter Panthino. 
 
 Pa)it. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. 
 Pro. Go; I come, I come ; — 
 Alas I this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — The same. A street. 
 
 Enter Launce, leading a dog, 
 
 Laiin. Nay, it will be this hour ere I have done 
 weeping: all the kind* of the Launces have this 
 very fault : I have received my proportion, like the 
 prodigious son, and am going with sir Proteus to 
 the Imperials court. I think. Crab my dog be the 
 Bourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping, 
 » Kindred. 
 
 my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howl- 
 ing, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house 
 in a great perplexity, yet did net this cruel-hearted 
 cur shed one tear ; he is a stone, a very pebble- 
 stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog ; a 
 Jew would have wept to have seen our parting ; 
 wliy. my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept 
 herself blind at my partmg. Nay, I'll show you 
 the manner of it: This shoe is my father; — tio 
 tliis left shoe is my father ; — no, no, this left shoe 
 is my mother ; — nay, that cannot be so neither ; — 
 yes, it is so, it is so ; it hath the worser sole ; This 
 shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my 
 father ; A vengeance on't ! tliere 'tis : now, sir, this 
 stalf is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a 
 lily, and as small as a wand ; this hat is Nan, our 
 maid ; I am the dog : — no, the dog is himself, and 
 I am the dog ; — (), the dog is me. and I am myself; 
 ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your 
 blessing ,■ now should not the shoe speak a word 
 for weeping: now should I kiss my father; well, lie 
 weeps on : now come I to my mother, (0, that she 
 could speak now !) like a woods woman ; — well, I 
 kiss her ; — why there 'tis ; here's my mother's I>rea1 h 
 up and down ; now come I to my sister ; mark the 
 moan she makes ; now the dog all this while sheds 
 not a tear, nor spe^iks a word ; but see how 1 lay 
 the dust with my tears. 
 
 Enter Pa>'thino. 
 
 Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy master 
 is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. 
 What s the matter"! why weepcst thou. man1 Away, 
 ass ; you will lose the tide, if j'ou tarry any longer. 
 
 Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost: for 
 it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd. 
 
 Pant. What's the unkindest tide] 
 
 Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here ; Crab, my dog. 
 
 Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the llood ; 
 and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; and, in 
 losing thy voyage, lose tiiy master ; and, in losing 
 thy master, lose thy service ; and in losing thy ser- 
 vice, — Why dost thou stop my mouth. 
 
 Laun. For fear tl.ou should'st lose thy tongue. 
 
 Pant. Where should 1 lose my tongue 7 
 
 Laun. In Ihy tale. 
 
 Punt. In thy tail! 
 
 Laun. l.ose the tide, and the voyage, and the 
 master, and the service ] The tide ! — Why. man, if 
 the rivcrwcre dry, 1 am able to fill it with my tears; 
 if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with 
 my sighs. 
 
 Pant. Come, come away, man ; I was sent to 
 call thee. 
 
 Loan. Sir, call me what tliou darest. 
 
 Pant. Wilt thou go'! 
 
 Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — Milan. An Apartment in tlie Duke's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Vaie^itim, Silvia, Thcbio, and Spled. 
 
 Sil. Ser\'ant — 
 
 Val. Mistress] 
 
 Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you. 
 
 Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. 
 
 Speed. Not of you. 
 
 I'al. Of my mistress then. 
 
 Speed. 'Twere good, you knock'd him. 
 
 Sil. Servant, you are sad.i 
 
 17//. Indeed, madam, I seem so. 
 
 Tliu. Seem you that you are not 1 
 
 Val. Haply, I do. 
 
 Thu. So ilo counterfeits. 
 
 Val. So do you. 
 
 Tliu. What" seem I that I am not ] 
 
 Val. '\VisP. 
 
 Thu. What instance of the contrary '! 
 
 17;/. Your folly. 
 
 Thu. And how quote* you my folly ! 
 
 Val. I i|Uole it in your jerkin. 
 
 Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. 
 
 Val. Well', then, I'll double your folly. 
 
 Thu. How? 
 
 Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio'! do you change 
 color? . , ., p 
 
 Val. Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind or 
 chameleon, 
 
 • Crazy, distracted. i Serious. 
 
 " Note, observe. 
 
32 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act 11. 
 
 Thu. That liuth more mind to feed on your blood, 
 than live in your air. 
 
 Vat. You have said, sir. 
 
 Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 
 
 Vat, I know it well, sir; you always end ere you 
 be;riii. 
 
 Hit. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and 
 quiekly shot ofl'. 
 
 Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. 
 
 Sit. Who is that, servant ? 
 
 Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire : 
 sir Thvirio borrows his wit froih your ladyship's 
 looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your 
 company. 
 
 Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, 
 I shall make your wit bankrupt. 
 
 Vfi/. I know it well, sir ; you have an exchequer 
 of words, and I think no other treasure to give 
 your followers: for it appears by their bare liveries, 
 that they live by your bare words, 
 
 Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more ; here comes 
 my father. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 DnJi'e. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. 
 Sir Valentine, your falhers in good health : 
 What say you to a letter from your friends 
 Of much good news I 
 
 Vat. My lord. I will be thankful 
 
 To any happy messenger from tlirnce. 
 
 Duke. Know you Dou Antonio, your country- 
 man ■? 
 
 Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman 
 To be of worth, and worthy estimation, 
 And not witlmut desert so well reputed. 
 
 Dtfke. Hatli he not a son '! 
 
 J'al. Ay, my good lord ; a son that well deserves 
 The linnor and ret^ard of such a father. 
 
 Dnl{e. You know him well 1 
 
 Val. I knew him as myself; for from our infancy 
 We Iinve conversed and spent our hours together; 
 And thouiih myself have been an idle truant, 
 Omitting the sweet benefit of time, 
 To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; 
 Yet liath sir Proteus, for tliat's his name, 
 Mado use and fair advantage of his days ; 
 His years but young, but his experience old ; 
 His head nnmellow'd, but his judi.nncnt ripe; 
 And, in a word, (for far behind his worth 
 Come all the praises that 1 now bestow,) 
 He is complete in feature, and in mind, 
 VVilh all good grace to grace a srentleman. 
 
 Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good, 
 He is as worthy for an puipress' love. 
 As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. 
 ^VpIl, sir; tliis gentleman is come to me. 
 With commendation from great potentates; 
 And here he means to spend his time awhile; 
 I tlilnk, tisno unwelcome news 1o you. 
 
 I'///. Should 1 have wish'd a thing, it had been he. 
 
 Dr/he. Welcome him then according to his worth: 
 Silvia, I speak to you; and you. sir Thurio: — 
 Kor Valentine, I need ntit "cites him to it : 
 I'll send him hitherto you presently. [Exit Dukk. 
 
 Vat. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, 
 Had come along with me, but that his mistress 
 Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. 
 
 Sit. Belike "that now she hath enfranchis'd them 
 Upon some other pawn for fealtv. 
 
 Vat, Kay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners 
 stiil. 
 
 Sit. Nav, then he should be blind; and being 
 blind. 
 How could lie see his vt'ay to seek out you 1 
 
 Vat. Why, lady, love liath twenty pair of eye^. 
 
 Ttni. They say that love halh not an eye at' all. 
 
 Vat. To see such lovers, Thurio. as yourself; 
 Upon a homely object love can wink. 
 
 Enter PnoTF.ufi. 
 Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the 
 
 t'cntleman. 
 Val. Welcome, dear Proteus! — Mistress, I be- 
 seech you, 
 Confirm his welcome with some special Aivor. 
 
 Sil. His wortli is warrant for his welcome hither, 
 If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. 
 Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him 
 fi Incite. 
 
 To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. 
 
 Sit. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. 
 
 Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant 
 To have a look of such a worthy mistress. 
 
 Val. Leave ofl' discourse of disability: — 
 Sweet lady, entertain him fbr your servant. 
 
 Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. 
 
 Sil. And duty neve-* yet did want his meed ; 
 Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. 
 
 Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. 
 
 Sit. That you are welcome r 
 
 Pro. No; that you are worthless. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak 
 
 with you. 
 Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. 
 Come, sir Thurio, 
 Go with me : — Once more, new servant, welcome: 
 ril leave you to confer of home-affairs; 
 When y)(u have done, we look to hear from you. 
 Pro, We'll both attend upon your ladyship. 
 
 [Exeunt Silvia, Thuhio, aad Speed, 
 Vat. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you 
 
 came '! 
 Pro. Your friends are well, and have them mucli 
 
 commended. 
 Val. And how do yours f 
 
 Pro. I left them all in health. 
 
 Val. How does your lady T and how thrives 
 
 your love '.' 
 Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you ; 
 I know you joy not in a love-discourse. 
 
 Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alterM now ; 
 T have done penance for contemning love ; 
 Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me 
 With bitter fasts, with penitential groans. 
 With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ; 
 For, in revenge of my contempt of love, 
 Love hath chiis'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, 
 And made them watchers of mine own heart's 
 
 sorrow. 
 O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord ; 
 And hath so humbled me, as I confess, 
 There is no woe to his correction. 
 Nor, to ills service, no such joy on earth ! 
 Now, no discourse, except it be of love ; 
 Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, 
 Upon the very naked name of love. 
 
 Pro. Knouih ; I read your fortune in your eye : 
 Was this the idol that you worship so? 
 
 T7//. Even she; andJs she not a heavenly saiull 
 Pro. No ; but she is an earthly paragon. 
 17//. Call her divine. 
 
 Pro. I will not flatter her. 
 
 T7//. O, flatter me ; for love delights in praises. 
 Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; 
 And I must minister the like to you. 
 
 17//. Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine, 
 Yet let her be a principality. 
 Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. 
 Pro. Except my mistress. 
 
 T7//. Sweet, except not any ; 
 
 Except thou wilt except against my love. 
 Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? 
 17//. And I will help thee to prefer her too: 
 She shall be dignified with this high honor. — 
 To bear my lady's train; lest the base earth 
 Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, 
 And. of so great a favor growing proud. 
 Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, 
 And make rough winter everlasting' ly. 
 Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? 
 17//. Pardon me. Proteus; all I can. is nothing 
 To lier. whose worth makes other worthies nothing; 
 She is alone. 
 pro. Then let her alone. 
 
 Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is mine 
 own ; 
 And I as rich in havinsr such a jewel, 
 As twenty seas, it" all their sand were pearl. 
 The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold, 
 Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee, 
 liecause thou seest me dote upon my love. 
 My foolish rival, that her father likes, 
 Oiily for his possessions are so huge. 
 Is gone with her along ; and I must after. 
 For love, thou know"st, is full of jealousy. 
 Pro. But she loves you ? 
 
SnBNE VII. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 3;i 
 
 VaL Ay. and we are betroth'd ; 
 
 Nay, more, our niorriasc hour, 
 Witli all the ouniiini; manlier of our llislit, 
 Determm d of: liovv I must climb her wuidow ; 
 The ladder made of cords ; and all the means 
 plotted, and 'greed on. for my happiness. 
 Good I*roteus, go witii me to my chamber. 
 In tliese ad'airs to aid nie with thy counsel. 
 
 Pro. lio on belbrc ; 1 .shall inquire you forth : 
 I must unto the road, to di-scmbark 
 Some necc!^sarics tliat I needs must use ; • 
 .And then I'll presently attend you. 
 
 I'al. Will you make haste ! 
 
 Fro. 1 will'.— [Exit Val. 
 
 Even as one heat another heat expels. 
 Or as one nail by streiii;th drives out another, 
 So tlie remembrance of my Ibrnier love 
 lb by a newer object quite forgotten. 
 is it mine eye, or Valentinus" praise, 
 Ilrr true pcTfeetion, or my false transgression, 
 'i'l.it m dies me, reasonless, to reason thus ! 
 Shi's fair; and so is Julia, that 1 love: — 
 That 1 did love, for now my love is thawd; 
 Whicli, like a waxen image 'gainst a tire. 
 Bears no impression of the thing it was. 
 Methinks, iny zeal to Valentine is cold ; 
 And that I love him not, as I was wont: 
 CI ! but I love his lady too, loo much; 
 And thats the reason 1 love him so little. 
 How shall I dote on her with more advice,' 
 That thus without advice begin to love her ? 
 'Tis but her picture 1 have yet beheld. 
 And that hath dazzled my reason's light ; 
 Hut when I look on her perfections. 
 There is no reason but 1 sliall be blind. 
 If 1 can cheek my erring love, I will ; 
 If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. [Exit. 
 
 SC KN E V. — Tlie same. A street. 
 Enter Spekd and Launce. 
 
 Speed. Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome to 
 Milan. 
 
 Latin. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ; for 
 I am not welcome. I reckon this always — that a 
 niin is never undone, till he be hanged ; nor never 
 Welcome to a place, till some certain sliot be paid, 
 and the hostess s.iy welcome. 
 
 Sp^ed. Come on, yon mad-cap, I'll to the ale- 
 house Willi you presently ; wliere, for one shot of 
 five-pence, thou shall have live thousand welcomes. 
 Hut. sirrah, how did thy master part with madam 
 Julia? 
 
 Liiun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they 
 parted very fairly in jest. 
 
 Speel. Hilt sliall she marry him ^ 
 
 Laun. No. 
 
 Speed. How then T shall he marry her T 
 
 Laiin. No, neither. 
 
 Spee I. What, are they hroken 7 
 
 Limn. No. they are both as whole as a fish. 
 
 Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with 
 them I 
 
 Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with 
 him, it stands well with her. 
 
 Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee 
 not. 
 
 Laun. Whit a block art thou, that thou canst 
 Dot! My staif understands mc. 
 
 Speed. What thou say'st ! 
 
 Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee. Ill 
 but lean, and my stall' understands mc. 
 
 Spee 1. It stands under thee, indeed. 
 
 Laun. \Vhy stand under and understand is all 
 one. 
 
 Speed. Hut tell me true, wiU't be a match '! 
 
 Laun. Ask my dog : if he say, ay, it will ; if he 
 say, no, it will; if he sliake his ta"il,aiid say nothing, 
 it will. 
 
 Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. 
 
 Laun. Thou shall never get such a secret from 
 me, but by a parable. 
 
 Speed. ' I'is well that I get it so. But, Launce, 
 how say'st thou, that my master has become a 
 notable lover ! 
 
 La'in. I never knew him otherwise. 
 
 Speed. Than how ! 
 
 Laun. A notable lubber, as thou rcportest him 
 to be. 
 
 I On further knowledge. 
 
 Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakcst 
 me. 
 
 Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant 
 thy master. 
 
 Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. 
 
 Laun. Why, 1 tell thee, 1 care not though he 
 burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to 
 the alehouse, so ; if not, thou art a Hebrew, a Jew, 
 and not worth the name of a Christian. 
 
 Speed. Why '! 
 
 Laun. Hccause thou hast not so much charity 
 in Ihee, as to go to the alehouse with a Christian ■ 
 Wilt Ihiiu go! 
 
 Spec^t. At thy service. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE VI. — Ttie same. An Apart inent in t lit 
 Palace. 
 Enter PnoTF.cs. 
 Prn. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; 
 To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn ; 
 'ro wrong my friend. 1 shall be much forsworn ; 
 And even that power, w hich save me first my oath, 
 Provokes me to this threefold perjury. 
 Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear: 
 
 sweet-suggesting» love, if thou h.ist sinn'd. 
 Teach mc, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 
 At first I did adore a twinkling star. 
 
 Hut now 1 worship a celestial sun. 
 
 Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken ; 
 
 And he wants wit, that wants resolved will 
 
 To learn his wit to exchan-'e the bad tor belter. — 
 
 Fie, fle, unrcverend tongue ! to call her bad. 
 
 Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd 
 
 With twenty thousand soul-confirmmg oaths. 
 
 1 cannot leave to love, and yet I do; 
 
 Hut there 1 leave to love, where I should love. 
 Julia 1 lose, and Valentine I lose: 
 If 1 keep them. I needs must lose myself; 
 If I lose them, thus find 1 by their loss. 
 For Valentine, myself; for Julia. Silvia. 
 1 to myself am dearer than a friend ; 
 For love is still more precious in itself. 
 And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! 
 Shows Julia but a swarthy Kthiope. 
 I will forget that Julia is alive, 
 liemcinbring that my love to her is dead; 
 ■\nd Valentine I'll hold an enemy, 
 Ximing at Silvia as a sweeter friend. 
 T cannot now prove constant to myself. 
 Without some treachery used to ^ aleiitine: — 
 This night he meaneth with a corded ladder 
 To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window ; 
 My.self in counsel, his competitor :' 
 Now presently I'll give lu-r father notice 
 of their disguising, and pretended- llight: 
 Who all enrag'd, will banish Valentine; 
 For ■fhnrio, he intends, shall wed his daughter: 
 Hul Valentine being gone. Til quickly cro.ss. 
 By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proi-eeding. 
 Love, lend me win-s to make my purpose swift. 
 As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drill ! [hxit. 
 SCENE VII. — Verona. A room in Julia's House. 
 Enter Julia and Lucetta. 
 
 Jul. Counsel. Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me! 
 And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,— 
 Who art the table wherein all my thoughts 
 \re visibly character d and engraved.— 
 To lesson me ; and tell me some good mean, 
 How, with my honor, I may undertake 
 \ iourney to my loving Proteus. 
 ' Luc. .Mas! the way is wearisome and long. 
 
 Ji'/.' A true devoted pilgrim is not weary 
 To measure kingdoms with his fi"eble steps: 
 ,M ucli less shall she, that hath love s wings to Hy : 
 \iid when the flight is made to one so dear. 
 Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. 
 
 Luc Better forbear, till Proteus make return. 
 
 Jul. O, know'st Ihou not, his loolis are my soul » 
 food! .J. 
 
 Pity tlic dearth that 1 have pined in, 
 By"lon--ing for that food so long a time. 
 Didst Kioa but know the inly touch of love. 
 Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow. 
 As seek to quench the fire of love with w"/*- 
 
 Luc. 1 do not seek to quench your love s hot hre , 
 But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 
 
 » Tempting. »Confi:dcrate. •Intended. 
 
•M 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 
 
 Jul. riie more Ihou duni'st it up, the more it burns; 
 The current, that with gentle murmur gh es, 
 Thoukuow'st, bemgstapp'd, impatiently doth rage; 
 But, wiien his fair eouise is not liindered, 
 He makes sweet music with the enaiucrd stones, 
 Givm^^ a f^entle kiss to every sedge 
 He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; 
 And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
 With willing sport to the wild ocean. 
 'I lien let me go, and hinder not my course : 
 VU be as patient as a gentle stream, 
 And make a pastime of each weary step, 
 Till The last step have brought me to my love; 
 And there Til rest, as, after much turmoil,* 
 A blessed soul doth in Klysiuin. 
 
 Luc. But in what habit' will you go along'! 
 
 Jul. Not like a woman ; for 1 would prevent 
 The loose encounters of lascivious men: 
 Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds 
 As may beseem some well-reputed page. 
 
 Luc. Why, then your ladyship must cut your hair. 
 
 Ju/. No, girl; Til knit it up in silken strings, 
 Willi twenty odd-conceited true-love knots: 
 To be fantastic may become a youtli 
 Of greater time than I shall show to be. 
 
 Luc. What fashion, madam, shall 1 make your 
 breeciies 1 
 
 Jul. That fits as well, as — "tell me, good my 
 lord, 
 What compass will you wear your farthingale 1 " 
 Why, even that fashion thou best likst, Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. Vou must needs have them with a cod- 
 piece, madam. 
 
 Jul. (mt, out. Lucetta! that will be ill-fiivord. 
 
 Luc. A round iiose, madam, nows not worth a 
 pin, 
 
 Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on. 
 
 Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have 
 What thou thiiik'st meet, and is most mannerly : 
 Hut tell me, weiR-h, how will the world repute me, 
 For undertaking so unstaid a journey 1 
 I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. 
 
 Luc. If you think sojthen stay at home,and go not. 
 
 Jul. Nay, tliat 1 will not. 
 
 Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 
 If Proteus like your journey, when you come, 
 No matter who*s displeas'd, when you are gone: 
 I fear me. he will scarce be pleas'd withal. 
 
 Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: 
 A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, 
 And instances as infinite of love, 
 Warrant me welcome to my Trotcus. 
 
 Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. 
 
 Jul. Base men that use them to so base etfect! 
 But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth : 
 His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; 
 His tears pure messengers sent from his heart; 
 His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from eurtl). 
 
 Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come 
 to him ! 
 
 Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that 
 wrong. 
 To bear a hard opinion of his truth : 
 Only deserve my love, by loving him; 
 And presently go with me to my chamber 
 To take a note of what I stand in need of. 
 To furnish me upon my longin'^« journey. 
 All that is mine 1 leave at thy dispose, 
 My EToods, my lands, my reputation; 
 Only in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence: 
 Come, answer not, but to it presently; 
 I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 St'ENK I. — Milan. An Ante-room in /lie Duke's 
 Futace. 
 
 Enter Dcki:, Thurio, and Proteus. 
 
 Duke. Sir Thurio, jiive us leave, I pray, awhile: 
 We have some secrets to confer about. — 
 
 [Exit THrRio. 
 Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with nie ? 
 
 Pro. My gracious lord, that which 1 would dis- 
 cover. 
 The law of friendship bids me to conceal : 
 liiit. when I call to mind your gracious favors 
 I)one to me, undeserving as I am. 
 My duty pricks me on to utter that 
 "Which else no worldly }j:ood should draw from me. 
 Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend. 
 This nisht intends to steal away your daus-'hter; 
 Myself am one made privy to the plot. 
 I know, you have determin'd to bestow her 
 On Thurio. whom your identic dauj^htcr hates ; 
 And should slie thus be stolen away from jou, 
 it would be much vexation to your aise. 
 Thus, for my duty's sake. 1 ralher choose 
 To cross my friend in his intended drift, 
 Tlian. by concealing it, heap on your head 
 A pock of sorrows, which would press you down, 
 lienii; unprevcnled, to your timeless ^ravc. 
 
 Duke, Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care ; 
 Which to requite, command me while 1 live. 
 This love of theirs myself have ollcn seen, 
 Kaply, when they have judged me fast asleep; 
 And oncutimes have purpos'd to forbid 
 Sir Valentine her company, and my court: 
 Hut. fearing lest my jealous aim ' might err, 
 And so. unworthily, disgrace the man, 
 (A rashness that lever yet have shunn'd,) 
 1 gave him gentle looks; thereby to find 
 That which thyself hast now disclosd to me. 
 And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, 
 Knowing that tender youth is soiin suggested,' 
 I nightlv lodge her in an upper tower. 
 The key whereof myself have ever kept ; 
 * Trouble. "Guess. flTempteJ. 
 
 And thence she cannot be convey'd away. 
 
 Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean 
 How he her chamber window will ascend. 
 And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; 
 For which the youthful lover now is gone. 
 And this way comes he with it presently ; 
 Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. 
 But, good my lord, do it so cunnm^'ly, 
 That my discovery be not aimed' at: 
 For love of you, not hate unto my friend. 
 Hath made me publisher of this pretence.' 
 
 Duke. I'pon mine honor, he sfiall never know 
 That 1 had any light from thee of this. 
 
 Pro. Adieu, my lord ; sir Valentine is coming. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter 'Vaiextixe. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fe.st ? 
 
 I'(7/. Please it your grace, there is a messenger 
 That stays to bear my lelters to my friends, 
 And I am going to deliver Ihein. 
 
 Duke. He they of much import? 
 
 Vol. The tenor of them doth but signify 
 My health, and happy being at your court. 
 
 Duke. Nav.then, no matter; stay with me awhile- 
 I am to break with thee of .some alTairs, 
 That touch me near, wherein thou must he secret, 
 Tis not unknown to thee, that 1 have sought 
 To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. 
 
 Vul. I know it well, my lord ; and. sure, tlie match 
 Were rich and honorable ; besides, the gentleman 
 Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities 
 lieseeming such a wile as your fair daughter: 
 Cannot your grace win her to ftincy him ? 
 
 Duke. No. trust me; she is peevish, sullen, for 
 ward. 
 Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; 
 Neither regarding that she is my child. 
 Nor fearing me as if I were her father: 
 And, mav 1 sav lo thee, this pride of hers. 
 Upon advice, halh drawn my love from her; 
 And, where 1 thought the remnant of mine ago 
 • Lonscdfur. 'Guessed, i Design. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 35 
 
 Should have been chcrish'd by her rhild-hke duty, 
 I now am full resolved to lake a Wife. 
 And turn iier out to who will take her in : 
 Then let her beauty be her wedding dower: 
 For me and my posscs:;ions she esteems not. 
 
 Vuf. What would your j;race have me to do in this? 
 
 Duke. There is a lady^ sir. in Milan, here, 
 Whom I affect; but she is niee and coy, 
 And nou^cht esteems my a;icd eloquenee: 
 Now. therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, 
 (Fur Ion? a^one 1 have fori^ot to court : 
 Besides, the fashion of the time is chan^M;) 
 How, and which way. I mriy bestow myself, 
 To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. 
 
 Vat. Win her with sifts, if she respect not words; 
 Pumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 
 More than quick words, do move a woman's 
 mind. 
 
 Duke, but she did scorn a present that I sent her. 
 
 Vul. A woman sometimes scorns what best 
 ''ontents her: 
 Send her another; never give her o'er; 
 For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
 Tf she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, 
 But ratlier to lx*>;et more love in you: 
 If she do chide, 'tis not to have you p;one ; 
 For why, the fools arc mad. if left alone. 
 Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; 
 For, ^et you pone, she doth not mean, away : 
 Flatter, and praise, commend, exto! their un'sces: 
 Thou'^h ne'er so bia'*k. say. they have amrels' faces. 
 'I'hat man tliat hath a ton'irue, 1 say, is no man, 
 If with his tonirue be cannot win a woman. 
 
 Duke. But she, I mean, ispromis'd by her friends 
 Unto a youthful gentleman of worth; 
 And kept severely from resort of men, 
 That no man hath access by day to her. 
 
 \'ii(. Why tlicn I would resort to her by nig^ht. 
 
 Duke. Ay. but the doors be lockM, and keys 
 kept safe. 
 That no man bath recourse to her by nisht. 
 
 Vfff. What Ii'ts.but onemay enb'rat herwindowl 
 
 Duke. Herchainlier is alotl. far from the ground ; 
 And built so sbohinL', that one cannot climb it 
 Without apparent hazard of his life. 
 
 Val. Why then. a ladf1er,quTintIy made of cords, 
 To cast up with a pair of anchorini; hooks, 
 Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, 
 So hold Leander would adventure it. 
 
 Duke. Now. as thou art a gentleman of blood, 
 Advise me where I may have such a ladder. 
 
 Val. When would you use it ? pray, sir, tell me 
 that. 
 
 Duke. This very night ; for love is like a child. 
 That lonirs for everything that he can come by. 
 
 !'(//. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. 
 
 Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her atone; 
 How shall I best convey the ladder thither? 
 
 ]'<if. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it 
 Under a cloak, that is of' any len::th. 
 
 Duke. Acloakasloujg as thine will serve the turn? 
 
 Vaf. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Duke. Then let me pee thy cloak ; 
 
 I'll get me one of such another lenstb. 
 
 Vol. Why, an V cloak will serve the turn, my lord. 
 
 Duke. How sball I fashion me to wear a cloak"! 
 T pray thee. let mc feel thy cloak upon me. — 
 What letter is this same T What's here I — To Silvia. 
 And here an engine fit for my proceeding! 
 Ill be 80 bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. 
 
 Mil thoughts do harbor wifh my Silvia niffhfly ; 
 
 And Silavcs ihey arcto me, fha! send ffictn flyiug: 
 O, fould fheir master come and go as fighf(i/y 
 
 Himself irould lodge where senseless they are 
 lyins. 
 Mil herald thoughis in fhy pure bosom rest them ; 
 
 While J, their kin<^,lho{ Ihilhfr them importune. 
 Do eurse the f^racc that witli such grace hath 
 blessed them. 
 
 Because mi/.-elf do want my senvmt^s fortune : 
 I curye myself for they are sent by me. 
 That they should harbor where their lord should be. 
 What's here! 
 Silvia, this ni^ht I will enfranchise thee : 
 
 *Tts so ; and here's the ladder for the purpose. — 
 Why. Phafiton, (for thou art Merops' son,) 
 Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, 
 And with thy daring folly burn the world? 
 
 Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee ! 
 
 do, base intruder ! over-weening slave! 
 
 Bestow tliy tawning smiles on equal mates; 
 
 And think, my patience, more than thy desert, 
 
 Is privilciic for thy departure hence: 
 
 Thank me for this, more than for all the flavors. 
 
 Which, all too much I have hestowd on thee. 
 
 But if thou linger in my territories. 
 
 Longer than swiftest expedition 
 
 W'ill give thee time to leave our royal court. 
 
 By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the lovo 
 
 I ever bore my dauirhtcr, or thyself. 
 
 Begone. I will not hear thy vam excuse. 
 
 But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. 
 
 [Exit DlTKE. 
 
 "fai. And why not death rather than live in tor- 
 ment ! 
 To die, is to be banish'd from myself; 
 And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her. 
 Is self from self; a deadly banishment! 
 What light is light, if Silvia be not seen 1 
 What joy is joy. if Silvia be not by ] 
 Unless it be to'think that she is by. 
 And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
 Kxcept I be by Silvia in the night. 
 There is no music in the nightingale; 
 Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
 There is no day for me to look upon: 
 She is my essence ; and I leave to be. 
 If I be not by her fair inlluence 
 Foster'd, illumin'd, cbensbM. kept alive, 
 I lly not death, to ily bis deadly doom: 
 Tarry I here. I but attend on death ; 
 But, lly 1 hence, 1 lly away from life. 
 
 Enter Photeus and Launct. 
 
 Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. 
 
 Luun. So-ho ! so-ho ! 
 
 Pro. What seest tho\i ! 
 
 Laun. Him we go to find: there's not a hail 
 on's head, but 'tis a Valentine. 
 
 Pro. Valentine ! 
 
 Vat. No. 
 
 pro. Who then? his spirit? 
 
 Val. Neither. 
 
 Pro. What then? 
 
 Val. Notlung. 
 
 Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? 
 
 Pro. Whom wouldst thou strike ! 
 
 Laun. Nothing. 
 
 pro. Villain, forbear. 
 
 Laun. Why, sir. I'llstrikenothing: 1 prayyou. — ■ 
 
 Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend VaU'nline, a 
 word. 
 
 Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good 
 news, 
 So much of bad already hath possessM them. 
 
 Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, 
 For they are harsh, untunable, and bad. 
 1 Val. Is Silvia dead? 
 
 pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia ! — 
 Hatli she forsworn me? 
 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me ! — 
 What is your news? 
 
 Laun. Sir, theres a proclamation that you are 
 banish'd. 
 
 Pro. That thou art banished. O, that's the news ; 
 From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. 
 
 }'al. (), I have fed upon this woe alreacly. 
 And now excess of it will make me surfeit, 
 both Silvia know that I am banished ? 
 
 Pro. Ay.ay ; and she bath oilered to the doom, 
 (Which, unrevers'd, stands in etlectual force.) 
 A sea of melting pearl, which some call (ears: 
 Tliose at her father's churlish feet she tenderd ; 
 With them, upon her knees, her humble suif; 
 Wrin;jiing her hands, whose whiteness so became 
 
 them. 
 As if but now they waxed pale for woe: 
 But neither bended knees, pure hands held up. 
 Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, 
 Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire ; 
 But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. 
 Besides, her intercession chafd him so. 
 When she for thy repeal was suppliant, 
 That to close prison lie commanded her, 
 With many bitter tiireats of biding there. 
 
3G 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 VaL No more; unless the next word that thou 
 speak" St 
 Have some m.ih^nant power upon my life : 
 If so, 1 pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, 
 As ending anthem of my endless dolor. 
 
 Fro. Cease to l.uiient ibrtliat thou canst not help, 
 And study help for that wliich tliou lamenfst. 
 Time is the nurse and breeder of ail ^ood. 
 Here if thou st:iy, thou canst not see thy love ; 
 Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life, 
 Hope is a lovers statT; walk hence with that. 
 And manai;e it a^ainst despairing tliou?Iits. 
 1'hy letters may be here, thouiih thou art hence: 
 Which, being writ to mc, shall be deliver'd 
 Kven in the milk-white bosom of thy love. 
 The time now serves not to expostulate : 
 Come, I'll convey thee throu;;h the city f^ate; 
 And. ere 1 part with thee, confer at large, 
 Of all that may concern thy love alfairs: 
 As thou iov'st Silvia. tliou:;h not for thyself, 
 Kcirard thy dau'^er, and along with me. 
 
 I'///. 1 pr;iy thee. Launce.aniflhou seestmyboy, 
 Bid him niike haste, and meet me at the north gate. 
 
 Pro. (io, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. 
 
 Vul. O my dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine ! 
 
 \ Exeunt Valkntine awl Photeus. 
 
 Laurt. I am but a fool, look you ; and yet I have 
 the wit to think my master is a kind of a knave: 
 but that's all one, if he be but one knave. He lives 
 not nnw, that knows me to be in love: yet I .am in 
 love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from 
 me ; nor who 'tis 1 love, and yet 'tis a woman : but 
 what woman. I will not tell myself; and vet 'tis a 
 milk-maid: yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had 
 gossips: yet 'tis a maid, foT she is her master's 
 maid, and serves for wages. She Iiath more quali- 
 ties than a water spaniel. — which is much in a 
 bare Christian. Here is the cat-Ioii^ [pnUing out a 
 jiaper] of her conditions. Imprimis, Sk" can fetch, 
 and carry. Why, a horse can do no more; nay, a 
 linrsc cannot fetch, but only carry ; therefore, is 
 phe better than a jade. Hem, She can milk ; look 
 you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Spfpfl. How. now, signior Launce? what news 
 with \"our mastership] 
 
 Laiin. With my master's ship] why, it is at 
 sea. 
 
 SpeeiL Well, your old vice still; mistake the 
 word : W' hat news then in your paper '. 
 
 Larm. The blackest news, that ever thou heard'st. 
 
 Speed. Why, man. how black] 
 
 Lnini. W' hy. as black as ink. 
 
 Speed. Let me read them. 
 
 Lann. Kieon thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read. 
 
 Speed. Thou liest, 1 can. 
 
 Latin. I will try thee; tell me this: who begot 
 thee ] 
 
 Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. 
 
 Laiin. () illiterate loiterer! it was the son of 
 thy brrandmother : this proves, that thou canst not 
 read. 
 
 SpeeJ. Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. 
 
 Lditn, There ; and Saint Nicholas'^ be tliy speed ! 
 
 Speed. Imprimis, She can milk. 
 
 Lann. Ay, that she can. 
 
 Speed. Item, She brews ^ood ale. 
 
 Lfi'in. And thereof comes the proverb, — Bless- 
 in j: of your heart, you brew good ale. 
 
 Speed. Item, She can seti.^ 
 
 L'lun, That's as much as to say, Can she so] 
 
 Speed. Hem, She can knit. 
 
 Lann. What need a man care for a stock with 
 a wench, when she can knit him a stock ] 
 
 Speed. Hem. She can ivash ani scour. 
 
 Lean. A special virtue; for then she need not 
 be washed and scoured. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She can spin. 
 
 L'f'in. Then may I set the world on wheels 
 when she can spin for her living. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She hath man ij nameless virtues. 
 
 Jjiun. That's as much as to say. bastard vir- 
 tnes: tliat. indeed, know not their fathers, and 
 therefore have no names. 
 
 Speed, llerejhllnir her vices, 
 
 Lfi'in. Close at the heels of her virtues. 
 *St. Jiicbolas presided over youug scholars. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She is nut io be kUi.sed fasting, in 
 respect of her breath. 
 
 Latin. Well, that fault may be mended with a 
 breakfast: read on. 
 
 Speed, Hem. She hoth a svjcet mouth. 
 
 Latin. That makes amends for her sour breath. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She doth talk in her sleep. 
 
 Latin. Us no matter for that, so she sleep not 
 in her talk. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She is slow in words. 
 
 Lann. villain, that set this down among her 
 vices! To be slow in words, is a woman's only 
 virtue : 1 pray thee, out with t; and place it for her 
 chief virtue. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is proud. 
 
 Latin. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, 
 and cannot be ta'en from her. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She hath tto teeth. 
 
 Latin. I care not for that neither, because I love 
 crusts. 
 
 Speed. Item. She w curst.* 
 
 Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. 
 
 Speed. Item, She ivill often praise tur liyiior. 
 
 Lann, If her liquor be good, she shall : if she 
 will not. 1 will ; for good things should be praised, 
 
 Spte^L Hem. Shf is too libtral.* 
 
 Luun. Of her tongue she cannot ; for that's writ 
 down she is slow of; of her purse slie sliall not; 
 for that 1 11 Keep shut: now, of another thing she 
 may, and that I cannot help. Well, proceed. 
 
 Speed. Items She hath more tiuir than wit. and 
 more faults than hairs, and more wealth than 
 faults. 
 
 iMun. Stop there ; I'll have her : she was mine, 
 and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article: 
 rehearse that once more. 
 
 Speed. Hem, She hath more hair than wif^ — 
 
 Laun. More hair than wit, — it may be; I'll 
 prove it : the cover of the salt hides the salt, and 
 therefore it is more than the salt; the hair tfiat 
 covers the wit, is more than the wit ; for the greater 
 hides the less. What's next ] 
 
 Speed, And more faults thun hairs, — 
 
 Laun. That's monstrous : O, that that were out ! 
 
 Speed. And more wealth than faults. 
 
 Laun. Why. that word makes the faults gra- 
 cious : Well, I'll have her ; and if it be a match, as 
 nothing is impossible, — 
 
 Speed. .What then] 
 
 Laun. W'hy, then I will tell thee, — that t!iy 
 master stays for thee at the north gate. 
 
 Speed. For me ] 
 
 Latin. For thee] ay; who art thou 1 he hath 
 staid for a better man than thee. 
 
 Speed. And must I go to him ] 
 
 Luxnu Thou must run to him, for thou hast 
 staid so long, that iroing will scarce serve the turn. 
 
 Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner] 'pox of 
 your love-letters! [Exit. 
 
 L^aun. Now will he be swinged for reading my 
 letter: An unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- 
 self into secrets ! — I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's 
 correction. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. — The same. A room in ttie Duke's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Dcke and Tnrnio; Photevs behind. 
 
 Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love 
 you. 
 Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. 
 
 Thu. Since his exile she hath despised me most, 
 Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me. 
 That I am desperate of obtaining her. 
 
 Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure 
 Trenched* in ice ; which with an hour's heat 
 Dissolves to water and doth lose his form. 
 A bttle time will melt her frozen thoughts, 
 And worthless Valentine shall he forgot, — 
 How now, sir Proteus ] Is your countryman, 
 According; to our proclamation, gone T 
 
 P)'o. Gone, my good lord. 
 
 Duke. My daui^hter takes hisi going erievously. 
 
 Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. 
 
 Duke. So I believe ; but Thurio thinks not so, 
 Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee 
 (Por thou hast shown some sii^n of good desert) 
 Makes me the better to confer with thee. 
 
 "Frowurd. •Licntious in language. "Cut. 
 
Act, lY. ScEXE I. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 37 
 
 Pro. I.onircr than T prove loyal to your grace, 
 Let me not live to look upon your i:r:ire. 
 
 Duke. Thou know'st how \vilhii;:ly I would ciTect 
 The matcii between Sir Timrio aiid'my d^u-hler. 
 
 Pro. I do, niy lord. 
 
 D'lke. And also, I think, thou art not ig;norant 
 How she opposes her ai^ainst my will. 
 
 Pro. She aid. my lord, when Valentine was here. 
 
 Duke. Ay, and "perversely she pers^vcrs so. 
 What mijiht we do to make the girl for^^et 
 The love "of Valentine, and love sirThuriol 
 
 Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine 
 With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; 
 Three tilings that women highly hold in liate. 
 
 Duke. Ay. bnt she'll think, that it is spoke in hate. 
 
 Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it : 
 Therefore it mu»t. witli circumstance, be spoken 
 By one, whom slie csteemeth as his tViend. 
 
 Duke. Then you must undertake to slander 
 him. 
 
 Pi n. And Ihnt. my lord. I shall be loth to do : 
 'Tis an ill office for a •renllemm ; 
 Especially, against his very friend. 
 
 Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage 
 him, 
 Your slander never can endamage him ; 
 Therefore the othce is indilferent, 
 Being entreated to it by your friend. 
 
 Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord : if T can do it, 
 By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, 
 She shall not ions continue love to him. 
 But. say this weed her love from Valentine, 
 It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. 
 
 Thu, Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, 
 Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, 
 Vou must provide to bottom it on me : 
 Which must be done, by praising me as much 
 As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine. 
 
 Duke, And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this 
 kind ; 
 Because we know, on Valentine's report, 
 You are already love's firm votary, 
 
 And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. 
 Upon this warrant shall you have access, 
 Where you with Silvia may confer at large; 
 For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, 
 And. for your I'riend s sake, will he glad of you : 
 Where you may temper her, by your persuasion, 
 To hate young Valentine, and love my friend. 
 
 Pro. As much as I can do, 1 will ellect : — 
 But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enou;;h ; 
 Vou must lay hme,i to tanijlc her desires. 
 By wailful sonnets, whose composed rliymos 
 Sliould be full fraught with serviceable vows. 
 
 /Ja^'f. Ay, much is the Ibrce of heaven-bred poesy. 
 
 Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty 
 You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart : 
 Write till your ink be dry ; and with your tears 
 M'tist it ai;ain ; and frame some feeling line. 
 That may discover such integrity : — 
 For Orpheus" lute was strung with poets' sinews ; 
 Whose tiolden touch could soften steel and stones, 
 Make tiiicrs tame, and huire leviathans 
 Korsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
 After your dire lamenting elegies. 
 Visit by night your lady's chamber-window 
 With some sweet concert : to their instruments 
 Tune a deploring dump;« the night's dead silence 
 Will well become such sweet complaining griev- 
 ance. 
 This, or else nothing, will inherit her. 
 
 Duke. This disciplines hows thou hast been in 
 love. 
 
 Thu. And thyadvice this night I'll put in practice. 
 Therefore, sweet I^roteus, my dircction-giver, 
 Let us into the city presently 
 'I'o sort' some gentlemen well skillM in music: 
 I have a sonnet, that will serve tlie turn. 
 To give the onset to thy ^'ood advice. 
 
 Duke. About it, gentlemen. 
 
 Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till afler supper: 
 And afterward deterni'iie our proceediritis. 
 
 Dtike. Even now about it: 1 will pardon yon. 
 
 [Exeuiil, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — v4 Forest near Mantua. 
 Enter certain Out-laws, 
 
 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast ; I see a passenger. 
 
 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down 
 
 with 'em. 
 
 Enter Valentive and Spf.kd. 
 
 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have 
 
 about you ; 
 If not, well make you sit, and rifle you. 
 
 Sj>eei. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains 
 That all the travelers do fear so much. 
 
 Vol. My friends — 
 
 1 Out. That's not so, sir; we arc your enemies. 
 
 2 Out. Peace; we'll hear him. 
 
 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; 
 For he's a proper" man. 
 
 Vol. Then know that I have little wealth to lose ; 
 A man I am. cross'd wiLii adversity : 
 My riches are these poor ha!)iliments. 
 Of which if you should here disfurmsh me. 
 You take the sum and substance that I have. 
 
 2 Out. Whither travel you] 
 Vaf. To Verona. 
 
 1 Out. Whence came you? 
 Vat. From Milan. 
 
 3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there? 
 
 Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might 
 have staid. 
 If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 
 
 1 Out. What, were you banish'd IhenccT 
 Vaf. I was. 
 
 2 Out. For what oflense? 
 
 Vol. For that which now torments me to rehearse: 
 I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent ; 
 eWfU-lookiiig. 
 
 But yet T slew him manfully in fight, 
 Without false vantatie, or base treachery. 
 
 1 Out. Why. ne'er repent it. if it weie done so: 
 But were you hiinish'd tor so small a fault? 
 
 Vat. I was, and held nie glad of sucli a doom. 
 
 1 Out. Have you the louiiucs?' 
 
 VfiL My youthful travel therein made me happy ; 
 Or else I often had been miserable. 
 
 3 Out. By the hare scalp of Hobin Hood's fat friar, 
 Tliis fellow were a king for our wild faction. 
 
 2 Out. Well have him : sirs, a word. 
 Spee'f. Master, be one of them ; 
 
 II is an honorable kind of Uiievcry. 
 17//. peace, villam! 
 
 2 Out. Tell us this: have you anything to take 
 
 to? 
 Vaf. Nothing, but my fortune. 
 
 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen, 
 Such as the fury of ungoverned youth 
 
 Thrust from tiie company of nuful'* men * 
 Myself was from Verona banished, 
 For praclisin;; to steal away a lady. 
 An heir, and near allied unto the duke. 
 
 2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, 
 Whom, in my mood, a I slaltb'd unto the heart. 
 
 1 Out. And 1. 1.ir such liKe petty crimes asthcsc. 
 But to the purpose. — (for we cite our faults, 
 That they m;iy hold excus'd our lawless Uves,) 
 And, partly, st-eing you are beautified 
 With goodly sbnpe ; and by your own report 
 A hnguisl ; and a man of sneli perfection. 
 As we do in our quality much want; — 
 
 2. Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man 
 Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you: 
 Are you content to be our general ? 
 
 1 Birdlime. ■ Mournful ck-cy. "Choosp out. 
 I Lauguagea. ^ Lawful. » Anger, reseutuieut. 
 
38 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 To make a virtue M' necessity, 
 And live, as we do, in this wilderness 1 
 3 Out. Wiiat say'st thou '.' wilt tliou be of our 
 consort ! 
 fay, ay, airf be the captain of us all : 
 We'll do thee honiase, and be rul'd by thee, 
 Love thee as our commander, and our kius;. 
 
 1 Ouf. Itut if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. 
 
 2 Out. Thou shait ftot live to brag what we have 
 
 ofler'd. 
 Val. I take your ofTcr, and will live with you ; 
 Provided that you do no outrages 
 On silly women, or poor passeirif^erg. 
 
 3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. 
 Come, "o with us. we II brin:; thee to our crews, 
 And show thee all the treasure we have got ; 
 Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. 
 
 [kxeimt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Milan. Court of the Palace. 
 
 Enter Protkus. 
 
 Tro. Already have I been fiilse to Valentine, 
 And now I must he as unjust to Thurio. 
 Under the color of commending him, 
 I have access my own love to prefer : 
 But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy. 
 To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. 
 When 1 protest true loyalty to her, 
 She twits me with my falsehood to my friend: 
 When to her beauty I commend my vows. 
 She bids me think, how 1 have been forsworn 
 In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd : 
 And, notwithstanding all her sudilen quips,« 
 The least whereof would quell a lover's hope. 
 Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, 
 The more it grows and favvneth on her still. 
 But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window, 
 And give some evening music to her car. 
 
 Thii. 
 
 Enter Tiidrio and Musicians. 
 
 Proteus, are you 
 
 crept 
 
 TIow now, sir 
 before us ? 
 
 Pro. Ay. gentle Thurio ; for you know, that love 
 V\ ill creep in service where it cannot go. 
 
 Thu. Ay, but I hope, sir, th.at you love not here. 
 
 Pro. Sir, but 1 do ; or else I would be hence. 
 
 Thu. Whom? Silvia 1 
 
 Vro. Ay, Silvia, — lor your sake. 
 
 Thu. I thank you liir your own. Now, gentlemen, 
 Lets tune, and to it lustily a while. 
 
 Enter WosT, at a di-<tanre; and Julia in boys 
 c/otlies. 
 
 Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you're 
 allyrholly ; I pray you, why is it 1 
 
 Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. 
 
 Hoyt. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll briri" 
 you where you shall hear music, and see the gen- 
 tleman that you ask'd fur. 
 
 Jul. But shall 1 hear him speak? 
 
 Host. Ay, that you shall. 
 
 Jul. That will lie music. [Music plays. 
 
 Tloxt. Hark ! hark ! 
 
 Jul. Is he among these ? 
 
 Host. Ay, but peace, let's hear 'em. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Who is Silvia ? What is she ? 
 
 That all our siruins commend her ? 
 llohi.fair. and wise is she ,- 
 
 The' heavens such srare did lend her, 
 Ttiut she miftht admired be. 
 
 Is she kind, as she i<ifair ? 
 
 For beaut ij lives with kindness: 
 Ltn'e doth to her ei/es repair. 
 
 To lielp him of his lilindness ,- 
 And, ieinif heljj'd, inhabits Itiere. 
 
 Then to Silvia let us sin.g, 
 
 Tlutt Silvia i.s excellin); ,- 
 She excel.9 each mnrliil thioi;. 
 
 Upon the dull earlh dwelling ; 
 To her let us garlomls bring. 
 
 Host. How now ? are you sadder than you were 
 before ! 
 How do you, man ? the music likes you not. 
 * I'ossionato roproacbes. 
 
 Jul. "i ou mislake ; the musician likes me not. 
 Host. Why, mv pretty youth ! 
 Jul. He plays false, father. 
 Host. How! out of tune on the strings? 
 Jul. Not so ; but yet so false that he grieves my 
 very heart-strings. 
 lliLst. You have a quick ear. 
 Jul. Ay, I would 1 were deaf! it makes me 
 nave a slow heart. 
 Host. 1 perc(*lve you delight not in music. 
 Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. 
 Host. Hark, what fine change is in the music ! 
 Jul. Ay ; that change is the spite. 
 Host. \o\x would have them always play but 
 one thing ? 
 
 Jul. 1 would alw.ays have one play hut one thing. 
 But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, 
 often resort unto this gentlewoman ? 
 
 Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told nie, 
 he loved her out of all nick.' 
 Jul. Where is Launce ? 
 
 Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, 
 by his master's command, he must carry lor a 
 present to his lady. 
 Jul. Peace ! stand aside ! the company parts. 
 Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you I I will so plead, 
 That you shall say, my cunning drift e.\cels. 
 Thu. Where meet we ? 
 Pro. At Siiint Gregorys well. 
 Tliu. Farewell. 
 
 [E.veunt Tiiunio and Musiciarjs. 
 
 Silvia appears above, at her u-indow. 
 
 Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 
 Sil. I thank you for your music, gentlemen: 
 Who is that, that spake? 
 
 Pro. (inc, lady. It you knew his pure heart's truth, 
 You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice. 
 Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it. 
 Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. 
 Sil. What is your will ? 
 
 Pro. That I may compass yours. 
 
 Sil. You have your wish ; my will is even tins, — 
 That presently you hie you home to bed. 
 Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man ! 
 Think'st thou, 1 am so shallow, so conccilless. 
 To be seduced by tliy llattery. 
 That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows? 
 Return, return, and make thy love amends. 
 Kor me, — by this pale queen of night I swear, 
 I am so (\ir from granting thy request, 
 That 1 despise thee for thy wronsrful suit; 
 And by and by intend to chide myself, 
 Even lor this time I spend in talking to thee. 
 
 Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady ; 
 B ut she is dead. 
 
 Jul. 'Twcre false, if I should speak it ; 
 
 For I am sure she is not buried. {Aside. 
 
 Sil. Say that she he; yet Valentine, thy friend, 
 Survives; to whom, thyself art witness, 
 I am betrothed: And art thou not asham'd 
 To wrong him with thy importiinacy ! 
 Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead. 
 Sil. And so, suppose, am I ; lor in his grave 
 .Assure thyself my love is buried. 
 Pro. Sweet lady, let Kie rake it from the earth. 
 Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence; 
 Or. at the least, in her's sepulchre thine. 
 Jul. He heard not that. [.4side. 
 
 Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate. 
 Vouchsafe me yet your picture fur mv love. 
 The picture that is hangini in your chamber- 
 To that I'll speak, to that 111 sigh and weej, ;' 
 Kor, since the substance of your perlect self" 
 Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; 
 And to your shadow, 1 will make true love. 
 Jut. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, de- 
 ceive it. 
 And make it but a shadow, as I am. I iside. 
 
 Sil. 1 am very loth to be your idol, sir; 
 But, since your filseliood slmll liivonie you well 
 To worship shadows, mid adore Ihlse sli'apes. 
 Send to me in the muriiiiig, and I'll send it: 
 And so good rest. 
 
 Pro. As wretches have o'er nighl. 
 
 That wait for execution in the morn. 
 
 [Exeunt PiiOTKi-s, and Silvia/towi above. 
 6Buyoud all rL-ckoning. 
 
Scene IV^. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 39 
 
 Jul. Host, will you sol 
 
 Husl. By my liai[ilom,« I was fast asleep. 
 
 Jul. Pray you, wliere lies sir Proteus ? 
 
 Huxt. Harry, at my house : Trust me, I think 
 'tis almost day. 
 
 Jul. Not so; liut it liatli been the longest night 
 Tliat e'er 1 walcli'ii, and the most lieuvicst. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCKNK III.— The same. 
 
 Enter Eglamour. 
 
 Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia 
 Entreated me to call and know her mind ; 
 There's some great matter shed emiiloy me in.— 
 Madam, madam ! 
 
 Silvia appears above, at her icindow. 
 
 Sil. Who calls'! 
 
 E/il. Your servant, and your friend ; 
 
 One that attends your ladyshii>'s command. 
 
 mi. Sir Kglamour, a thousand times good-mor- 
 row. 
 Eg!. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. 
 According to your ladyships impose.' 
 1 am thus early come, to know what service 
 It is your pleasure to command me in. 
 
 Sil. Kglamour, thou art a gentleman, 
 (Think not I Hatter, for I swear I do not.) 
 Valiant, wise, remorseful." well aceomplish'd. 
 Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will 
 I bear unto the banish'd Valentine; 
 Nor how my father would enforce nie marry 
 Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd. 
 Thyself hast lov'd; ani I have heard thee say, 
 No grief did ever come so near thy heart. 
 As when thy lady and thy true love died. 
 Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastit}'. 
 Sir Kglamour. I would to Valentine, 
 To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode; 
 And, for the ways arc dangerous to pass, 
 I do desire thy worthy company. 
 Upon whose faith and honor I repose. 
 Urge not my father's anger, Ku-lamour, 
 But think upon my grief, a lady's grief; 
 And on the justice of my llyiinr hence. 
 To keep me from a most unholy match, 
 Whichheaven and fortune still reward with plajues. 
 I do desire thee, even from a heart 
 As full of sorrows as the sea of sands 
 To bear me company, and go with me : 
 If not, to hide what 1 have said to thee, 
 That I may venture to depart alone. 
 
 Eg/. Madam. I pity much your grievances: 
 Which since 1 know 'they virtuously are plac'd, 
 I give consent to go along with you ; 
 Recking' as little what betidcth me, 
 As much I wish all good befortuiie you. 
 'When wiU you gol 
 
 Sit. This evening coming. 
 
 Egl. Where shall 1 meet \ou 7 
 
 Sil. At friar Patrick's cell. 
 
 Where T intend holy confession. 
 
 Egl. I will not fail your ladjship : 
 Good-morrow, gentle lady. 
 
 Sil. Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour. [Exacrit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— TIte same. 
 
 Enter Lacsce, with his dog. 
 
 When a man's servant shall play the cur with 
 nim, look you, it goes hard: one that I brou:;ht up 
 of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning when 
 three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went 
 to it! I have taught him — even as one would say 
 precisely. Thus 1 would teach a dog. I was sent 
 to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from 
 my master; and \ came no sooner into the diniuir- 
 chami)er. but he steps me to her trencher, and steals 
 her capon's leg. (1. 'tis a foul thing when a cur 
 cannot keep' himself in all companies! I would 
 have, as one should say. one that takes upon him 
 to be a do.' indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all 
 thins-s. If I had not had more wit than he, to take 
 a fault upon me tliat he did, 1 think verily he had 
 been han'.'ed for t : sure as 1 live, he had sulTered 
 for 't: you shall judse. He thrusts me himself 
 into tlie" company ' of three or four gentleman-like 
 
 • Holy dam(», hk'ssed lady. "i Injunction, comniainl, 
 
 • Compassionate. ' Caring. ' Ilestrain. 
 
 dogs, under the duke's table: he had not been tliere 
 (bless the mark!) a pissing while; but all the cham- 
 ber smelt him. Qui icilh the dog. says one ; Wlud 
 cur j'.v that ? says anotlier ; JVhip him out. says the 
 third; Hang him up. says the duke. I. having 
 been acquainted witli the smell before, knew it was 
 Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the 
 dogs: Friend, quoth I. lou mean to ichip the dog? 
 Ay, nuirrij, do I. quoth he. You do him the more 
 wrong, qiioth I ; 7««-« / did the thing ynu wot of. 
 He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of 
 the chamber. How many masters would do this 
 for their servant! Nay. I'll be sworn, I have sat 
 in the stocks for pudlings he hath stolen, otherwi.so 
 he had been executed; 1 have stood on the pillory 
 for geese lie hath killed, otherwise he had sullcred 
 for 't: thou think'st not of this now! — Nay, I 
 remember the trick you served me, when I toolc 
 my h'ave of madam Silvia; did not I bid thee slid 
 mark nie, and do as I do! When didst thou see 
 me heave up my leg, and make water against a 
 gentlewoman's tarthingale! didst thou ever see me 
 do such a trick ! 
 
 Enter Pboteus and Julia. 
 
 Pro. Sebastian is thy name ■! I like thee well. 
 And will employ thee in some service presently. 
 
 Jul. In what you please ; I will do what I can. 
 
 Fro. I hope thou wilt. — "How now. you whore- 
 son peasiint ! [ToLaunce. 
 Where have you been these tW'O days loitering 1 
 
 Laiin. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the 
 dog you bade me. 
 
 Pro. And what says she to m'y little jewel ! 
 
 Laun. Marry, she say*, your dos- was a cur; 
 and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for 
 such a present. 
 
 Pro. liut she received my dog T 
 
 Loan. No, indeed, she "did not: here have I 
 brought him back asain. 
 
 Pro. What, didst thou olTer her this from me ? 
 
 Laun. Ay. sir ; the other squirrel was stolen from 
 me by the hansman's boys in the market-place : 
 and then I ollered her mine own ; who is a dog as 
 big as ten of yours, and therefore the git\ the greater. 
 
 Pro. Go. get thee hence, and find my dog u^jaiii, 
 rtr ne'er return again into my sight. 
 Away. I say: stay'st thou to vex me here! 
 A slave, that, still an end,' turns me to shame. 
 
 [Exit Lausce. 
 Sebastian. I have entertained thee. 
 Partly, that I have need of such a youth. 
 That can with some discretion do iny business, 
 For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lovit; 
 Hut, chiefly, for thy face and thy behavior; 
 Which (if my augury deceive ine not) 
 Witness good bringing up. Ibrtune, and tnith: 
 Therefore know thou, for this 1 entertain thee. 
 Go presently, and take this ring with thee, 
 Deliver it to madam Silvia : 
 She loved me well, deliver'd it to me. 
 
 Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave het 
 token : 
 She's dead, belike. 
 
 ]>ro. Not so ; I think, she lives. 
 
 J; I. Alas! 
 
 Pro. Why dost thou cry. alas ! 
 
 Jul. I cannot choose but pity her. 
 
 Pro. Wherefore shonldst thou pity her*! 
 
 Jut. P.eeause. mettiinks. that she lov'd you as well 
 As you do love your lady Silvia; 
 She dreams on nim, that has forgot her love; 
 You dole on her, that cares not for your love. 
 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary; 
 And thinking on it makes me cry. alas! 
 
 Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal 
 This lelter; — That's her chamlier. — Tell my lady 
 I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. 
 Your messaiie done, hie home unto my chamber. 
 Where thou shall fmd me sad and solitary. 
 
 [Exit PnoTF.rs. 
 Jut. How many women would do such a message? 
 Alas, poor Proteiis ! thou hast entertain'd 
 A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs: 
 Alas, poor fool! wliy do I pity him 
 That with his very heart despiseth me 7 
 Because he loves her. he despiseth me; 
 »In the end- 
 
4:) 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act v. 
 
 IJocause I \o\e Inni, I must pity him. 
 
 This nil;; I jj;avc liim, wlieii lie parted from me, 
 
 To bind liim to rcinetnbcr my good will: 
 
 And now am 1 [uniiappy messenger) 
 
 'J'o plead lor that which 1 would not obtain ; 
 
 To carry that which I would liave relusd; 
 
 To praise his tU'th. which I would have disprais'd. 
 
 I am my mah^ters true continued love; 
 
 lUit cannot he true servant to my master, 
 
 IJnless I prove fitlse traitor to myself. 
 
 Yet I wUl woo for him ; but yet so coidly, 
 
 As, heaven it knows, I would not liavc liim speed. 
 
 Enter Silvia utlended. 
 
 Gentlewoman, sood day ! I pray you, be my mean 
 To brinj; me where to speak with madam Ndvja. 
 
 Hit. What would you with her, if that I be she! 
 
 Jul, If you be she, i do entreat your patience 
 To hear mc speak the message I aih sent on. 
 
 Sil. Krom whom ! 
 
 Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam 
 
 i>U. O ! — ho sends you for a picture .' 
 
 Jul. Ay, madam. 
 
 Sit. Ursula, bring my picture tliere. 
 
 {Picture brought. 
 Go. give your master this: tell him from me, 
 One Juha that hischun^xin^ thouL^hts forj<et, 
 Would tietter ht his chaml)er than this shadow. 
 
 Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter. — 
 Pardon me, madam; I'have unadvis'd 
 Deliver'd you a paper that I should not; 
 This is the letter to your ladyship. 
 
 Sil. 1 pray thee, let me look on that a^ain, 
 
 Jul, It may not be; good madam, pardon me. 
 
 ait. There, hold, 
 I will not look upon y<^ur master's lines: 
 I know they are stuiVd with protestations. 
 And full of new-found oaths; which he will break 
 As easily as I do tear his paper. 
 
 Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this rin.?. 
 
 Sit. The more shame for him that ho sends it me : 
 For I have heard him say a thousand times. 
 His Julia gave it him at his departure: 
 Though his false finger hath prof.ind the ring, 
 Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 
 
 Jul. She thanks ynu. 
 
 Sit. What say'st thou 1 
 
 J\lL I thank you, madam, that you tender her : 
 Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. 
 
 Sil. Dost thou know her? 
 
 Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself. 
 To think upon her woes, I do protest. 
 Tliat 1 have wcjit a hundred several times. 
 
 ,Sj/. Belike, she thinks that Proteus hath forsook 
 her. 
 
 Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of 
 sorrow. 
 
 Sit. Is she not passing fair"! 
 
 Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than slie is: 
 When she did think my mister loved her well, 
 She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ; 
 But since she did neglect her looking-glass. 
 And threw her sun-expelling mask away. 
 The air hath starvd the roses in lier cheeks. 
 And pinchd the lily-tincture of her face. 
 That now she is become as black as I. 
 
 Sit. How tail was shcl 
 
 Jut. About my stature : for at Pentecost," 
 When all our pageants of delight were play'd, 
 Our youth got me to play tlie woman's part, 
 And I was trimra'd in madam Julia s gown ; 
 VVhioh served me as fit, by all mens judgment. 
 As if the garment had been made lor me: 
 Therefore I know she is about my height. 
 And, at tliat time, I made her weep a-good,« 
 For I did play a lamentable part: 
 Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning 
 For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight; 
 Which I so lively acted with my tears. 
 That my poor mistress, moved therewitJial, 
 Wept bitterly; and, wouki I miglit be dead, 
 If I in thought felt not her very sorrow ! 
 
 Sit. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth! — 
 Alas, poor lady! desolate and loft! — 
 I weep myself to think upon thy words. 
 Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this 
 For thy sweet mistress sake, because thou lov'st her. 
 Farewell. [Exit Silvia. 
 
 Jul, And she shall thank you for "t, if eer you 
 know her. — 
 A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. 
 I hope my masters suit wdl be but cold, 
 Since slie respects my mistress' love so much. 
 Alas, how love can trifle with itself! 
 Ilere is her picture : Let me see; I think, 
 If I had such a tire,» this face of mine 
 Were full as lovely as is this of hers: 
 And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, 
 tlnless I flatter with myself too much. 
 Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: 
 If that be all the ditVerence in his love, 
 111 get me such a colord periwig. 
 Her eyes are grey as glass; and so are mine: 
 Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's. as high. 
 What should it be, that he respects in lier, 
 lUit I can make respective in myself, 
 If this fond love were not a blinded god 1 
 Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up. 
 For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, 
 Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lovd, and adofd; 
 And, were there sense in his idolatry. 
 My substance should be statue in thy stead, 
 ril use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake. 
 That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow, 
 I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes. 
 To make my master out of love with thee. L-^'*^''^^' 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— The same. An. Abbey. 
 
 Enter EcLA^ioun. 
 
 Egl. The sun begins to gild the western 
 sky ; 
 And now, it is abovit tlic very hour 
 That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me. 
 .';he will not fail; for lovers break not hours, 
 Unless it bo to eome before their time; 
 So much they spur their expedition 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 
 See. where she comes: Lady, a happy eveninj;! 
 
 Sit. Amen, amen! so on. sood t.ulainour! 
 Out at the postern by the abbey wall; 
 I fc ir I am attended by some spies. 
 
 Egl. Fear not: the' forest is not three Icigues 
 oil"; 
 If we recover that, we arc sure enough. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Tlie .vime. An Aparlment in the 
 Duke's Patacc. 
 Enter Tiicnio, Piioteus, n7id Juha. 
 TIm. Sir Proteus, wdiat says Silvia to my suit! 
 Pro. O. sir, I find her milder than she was; 
 And yet she takes exceptions at your person. 
 Tlit(. What, that my le;; is too long 1 
 Prn. No; that it is too liltle. 
 Tliu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat 
 
 rounder. 
 Prn. [iutlo\*will not be spurr'd lowhat it loaths. 
 Tint. What says she to my lace? 
 Pro. She says.'it is a fair one. 
 TtiM. Nay, then, the wantonlies; my face is black. 
 Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, 
 Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes, 
 Jut. 'ristrue; such pearls as put out ladies' eyes. 
 5 Wliitsuntiae. • In Rood uarufst. 
 
 • IIciul-Jioss. sOwn. 
 
SCE-N-E IV. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 41 
 
 for I had rather wink than look on them. [Aside. 
 Thit. How hkes she my discourse] 
 Pro. Ill, when j'ou talk of war. 
 Tliii. But well, when I discourse of love, and 
 
 peace ! 
 Jul. But Ijctter, indeed, when you hold your 
 peace. [Aside: 
 
 Thii. What says she to my valor 1 
 Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt ol* that. 
 JuL She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Thu. What says she to my birth 1 
 Pro That you arc well derived. 
 Jul. True ; ("rom a gentleman to a fool. [Aside. 
 Thu. Considers she my possessions ! 
 Pro. O. ay ; and pities tliem. 
 TItu. Wherefore 1 
 
 Jul. That such an ass should owe« them. [Aside. 
 Pro. That they are out by lease. 
 Jul. Here comes the duke. 
 
 Enter Dukk. 
 
 DuT;e. How now, sir Proteus] how now,Thurio'! 
 Which of you saw sir Kglaniuur of late] 
 
 Thu. Not 1. 
 
 Pro. Nor I. 
 
 Duke. Saw you my daughter] 
 
 Pro. Neither. 
 
 Duke. Why, then, she's fled unto that peasant 
 Valentine; 
 And F.;;lamour is in Iier company. 
 ' Tis true ; for friar Laurence met them both. 
 As he in penance wauder'd thronsh the forest: 
 II im he knew well, and gucss'd that it was she; 
 But, beim; maskd, he was not sure of it: 
 Besides, she did intend confession 
 A t Patricks cell this even ; and there she was not : 
 These likelihoods confirm her lli^'ht from hence. 
 Tiierefore. 1 pray ymi, sland not to discourse, 
 P,ut mount you presently ; and meet with me 
 Upon the risins of the ii'iountain foot 
 That leads towards Mantua, whither they arc lied : 
 Despatch, sweet s;entlemen, and follow me. [ICxit, 
 
 Thu. Why, this it is to he a peevish girl, 
 That Hies her fortune wlien it follows iicr : 
 111 after; more to be revenged on Kglamour, 
 Than for the love of reckless,' Silvia. [Kxil. 
 
 Pro. And 1 will follow, more for Silvia's love, 
 Than hate of K.slamour, that goes with her. [Exit. 
 
 Jul. And 1 will follow, more to cross that love. 
 Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE 111.— Frontiers of Mantua. The Forest. 
 Enter Silvia and Outlaws. 
 
 Out. Come, come ; 
 Be patient, we must bring you to our captain. 
 
 .S(,/. A Ihousan'l more mischances than this one 
 Have learn'd me how to brook tliis patiently. 
 
 2 O'lt. Come, bring her away. 
 
 1 Out. Where is the gcnth'mali that was with her] 
 
 3 Out. Being nimbic-footed. he hath out-run us, 
 But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him. 
 
 Go thou with her to the west end of the wood. 
 There is our captain; we'll follow him that's lied; 
 The thicket is beset, lie cannot '.scape. 
 
 1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's 
 cave; 
 Fear not; he bears an honorable mind, 
 And will not use a woman lawlessly. 
 
 Sit. OValentme, this 1 endure for thee! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — Another part af the Forest. 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 Vol. How use doth breed a habit in a man ! 
 This shadowy desert, imfrequented woods. 
 I better brook than llonri.shing peopled towns: 
 Here can I sit alone, unseen of any. 
 And, to the nightingale's complaining notes, 
 Tune my distresses, and record' my woes. 
 O thou that dost inhabit in my breast. 
 Leave not tlie mansion so long tenantless ; 
 Lest, growing rninnus, the building fall, 
 And leave no memory of what it was! 
 Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
 Tlioa gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swam : — 
 What halloing, and what stir is this to-day '. 
 • Own. 'Car,;les3. ■ Sing. 
 
 These arc my mates, that make their wills their law, 
 Have some unhappy passenger in chase ; 
 They love me well ; yet I have much to do, 
 To keep them from uncivil outrages, 
 Withdraw thee, Valentine : who's this comes here ] 
 
 [Steps aside. 
 
 Enter Pboteds, Silvia, and Julia. 
 
 Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you, 
 (Though you respect not aught your servant doth,) 
 To hazard life, and rescue you from him 
 That would have forc'd your honor and your love 
 Vouchsafe me for my meed hut one fair look ; 
 A smaller boon than this I cannot beg. 
 And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
 
 Vul. How like a dream is this I see and hear! 
 Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. [Aside. 
 
 Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am! 
 
 Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; 
 But, by my coming, 1 have made you happy. 
 
 Sit. By thy approach thou mak'st ine most 
 unhappy. 
 
 Jut. And me, when he approacheth to your 
 presence. [Aside, 
 
 fill. Had 1 been seized by a hunsry lion, 
 I would have been a breaklast to the beast. 
 Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. 
 O. heaven be judge how I love Valentine, 
 Whose lil'e's as tender to me as my soul ; 
 And full as much (lor more tliere cannot be) 
 I do detest false perjurd Proteus; 
 Therefore begone, solicit me no more. 
 
 Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to 
 death. 
 Would I not undergo for one calm look ? 
 O. 'tis the curse in love, and still ajiprov'd.' 
 When women cannot love where they're belov'd. 
 
 Sit. When Proteus cannot love vs'hcre hc'3 
 belov'd. 
 Read over .lulia's licart, thy first best love. 
 For wliose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith 
 Into a tiiousand oaths; and all those oaths 
 Descended into perjury, to love me. 
 Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou had.st two, 
 .And that's far worse than none; better have none 
 Tlian plural faith, which is too much by one : 
 Thou counterfeit to thy true friend ! 
 
 Pro. Hi love. 
 
 Who respects friend] 
 
 Sil. All men but Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving word* 
 Can no way change you to a milder form, 
 III woo you like a soldier, at arms' end ; 
 And love you 'eainst tile nature of love, force you. 
 
 Sil. () heaven ! 
 
 Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. 
 
 Vul. Ruffian, let so that rude uncivil touch ; 
 Thou friend of an ill fashion ! 
 
 Pro. Valentine ! 
 
 i'ul. Thou common friend, that's without faith 
 or love, 
 (For such is a friend now.) treacherous man ! 
 Thou hastbeguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye 
 Could have persuaded me: Now I dare not say 
 1 have one friend alive ; thou wouldst disprove me. 
 Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand 
 Is pel jnr'd to the bosom ] Proteus, 
 1 am sorry, I must never trust thee more. 
 Rut count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
 The private wound is deepest : O time, most curst ! 
 'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst! 
 
 Pro. My shame and guilt confound me. — 
 Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow 
 He a sufhcient ransom for olTence. 
 I tender it here ; I do as truly suiter. 
 As e'er I did commit. 
 
 y„[. Then I am paid ; 
 
 And once again I do receive thee honest: — 
 Who by repentance is not satisfied. 
 Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleas'd ; 
 By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd : — 
 And, that my love may appear plain and free. 
 All that was'mine in Silvia, I give thee. 
 
 Jul. O mo unhappy ! [Faints. 
 
 Pro. Look to the boy. 
 
 Vul. Why, boy! why, wag! how now] what ii 
 tlie matter] 
 
 f Felt, experienced. 
 
42 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Look up; speak. 
 
 Jul, good sir, my master cJiarg'd me 
 
 To deliver a rin? to madam Silvia; 
 VVhifli, out of my neglect, was never done. 
 
 Pro. Where is that ring, boy 1 
 
 Jul. Here 'tis : this is it. \_Gives a ring. 
 
 Pro. How ! let me see : 
 Why this is the ring I gave to Julia. 
 
 Jul. O, cry your mercy, sir, I have mistook ; 
 This is the rmg you sent to Silvia. 
 
 [Shows anoffuT rmg. 
 
 Pro* But, how cam'st thou by tiiis rm^l at my 
 depart, 
 I gave this unto Julia. 
 
 Jul. And Julia herself did give itmc; 
 And Julia herself halh brought it hitlier. 
 
 Pro. How! Julia! 
 
 /(//. Behold lier tliat gave aim* to all thy oaths. 
 And entertain'd them deeply in her heart: 
 How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ?« 
 i) Proteus, let this habit make thee blush! 
 Pe thou asham'd, that I have took upon me 
 Such an immodest raiment; if shame live 
 III a disguise of love: 
 U is tlie lesser blot, modesty finds, 
 Women to change their shapes, than men their 
 minds. 
 
 Pro. Than men their minds'! 'tis true: heaven! 
 were man 
 But constant, he were perfect: that one error 
 Fills him with faults; makes him run through all 
 
 sins : 
 Inronstancy falls off, ere it begins: 
 What is in Silvia's face, but 1 may spy- 
 More fresh in Julias with a constant eye 1 
 
 Val. Come, come, a hand from either: 
 Let me be blest to make this happy close; 
 'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. 
 
 Pro. bear witness, lieaven, I have my wish for 
 ever. 
 
 Jul. And I have mine. 
 
 Enter Outlaws, with Ddke and THunio. 
 
 Out. A prize, a prize, a prize ! 
 
 Val. Forbear, I say ; it is my lord the duke. 
 Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced, 
 Banisiied Valentine. 
 Duke. Sir Valentine! 
 
 Tku. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia*s mine. 
 Val. Thurio.give back, or else embrace thy death; 
 » Direction, 
 a An allusion to cleaving the pin in archery. 
 
 Come not within the measure of my wratb:^ 
 Do not name Silvia thuie ; if once again, 
 Milan shall not behold thee. Here siie stands 
 Take but possession of her with a touch ; — 
 1 dare thee but to breathe upon my love. — 
 
 Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I ; 
 I hold him but a fool, that will endanger 
 His body for a girl that loves him not : 
 1 claim her not, and therefore she is thine. 
 
 Duke. The more degenerate and base at thou, 
 To make such means* for her as thou hast done, 
 And leave her on such slight conditions. — 
 Now, by the honor of my ancestry, 
 I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, 
 And thmk thee worthy of an empress' love. 
 Know then, I here forget all former griefs, 
 Cancel all grudge, r-^peal thee home again. — 
 Plead a new state in thy unrivall d merit, 
 To which 1 thus subscribe, — sir Valentine, 
 Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd; 
 Take tliou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. 
 
 I'ul. 1 thank your grace; tlie gift hath made me 
 happy. 
 I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, 
 To grant one boon that 1 shall ask of you. 
 
 Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whateer it be. 
 
 Vul. These banish'd men. that 1 have kept withal, 
 Are men endued with worthy qualities; 
 Forgive tliem what they have conmiitted here, 
 And let them be recalld from their exile : 
 They are reformed, civil, full of good. 
 And fit for great employment, worthy lord. 
 
 Duke. Thou hast prevail d: I pardon them, and 
 thee ; 
 Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts. 
 Come, let us go; we will include* all jars 
 With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnily. 
 
 17//, And, as we walk along, I dare be bold. 
 With our discourse to make your grace to smile: 
 What think you of this page, my lord] 
 
 Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him: he 
 blushes. 
 
 Val. I warrant you, my lord; more grace than 
 boy. 
 
 Duke. What mean you by that saying 7 
 
 J'al. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along. 
 That you will wonder what hath fortuned. — ■ 
 Come. Proteus; 'tis your penance, but to hear 
 The story of your loves discovered: 
 TJiat done, our day of marriai^e shall be yours ; 
 One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 3 Length o* my sword. « Interest. » Conclude. 
 
MERRY WIYES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 [two Genllemen dwelling at Windsor. 
 
 Siu Jon^ Falstaff. 
 
 Fenton. 
 
 Shallow, a country Justice. 
 
 Slkniiku, cjtusiii to Sliallow. 
 
 Mn. FoHi), \f 
 
 Mil. Park, J' 
 
 William Psr.r., a Boit, son to Mr. Page. 
 
 Sin HcGH Evans, « IVelsli Pursun. 
 
 Ph. Caii's, a Fr nch Pfiysician. 
 
 HusT of ttie (5arter Inn. 
 
 Bahiiolpu, I 
 
 Pistol, \ Followers of Fsisliff. 
 
 Ny.>i, ) 
 
 RoBis, Page to Falstaff. 
 Simple, Servant to Slender. 
 RuGBT, Servant tu Dr. Caius. 
 
 Mns. FoTtn. 
 Mils. Page. 
 Mns. Anxe Page, tier Daughter, in love with 
 
 Fonton. 
 Mns. Quickly, Servant to Dr. Caius. 
 
 Servants to Page, Ford, <frc. 
 
 SCENE, Windsor; and tlie parts adjacent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Windsor. Before Vice's House. 
 
 Enter Justice SaxLLOw , SLExnEn, a«(Z Si>' Hcgh 
 Evans. 
 
 Skril. Srn Hccn, persuade me not; I will make 
 a Star-chamber matter of it; if he were twenty 
 sir John FalstalTs, he shall not abuse Robert Shal- 
 low, esquire. 
 
 S!en. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, 
 and coram. 
 
 Skal. Ay, cousin Slender, and Cust'ttlorum.^ 
 
 S'en. .^y, and ratoloruni too ; and a gentleman 
 born, master parson; who writes himself arniigero; 
 in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, arnii- 
 gero. 
 
 Slial. Ay, that we do: and have done any time 
 thesD three hundred years. 
 
 S!en. All his successors, gone before him. have 
 do-iet ; and all his ancestors, that come alter him, 
 may : they may give the dozen white luces in their 
 coat. 
 
 S'lal. It is an old coat. 
 
 Eva. The dozen wliite louses do become an old 
 coat well; it agrees well, passant: it is a familiar 
 beast to nun, and signifies — love. 
 
 S'ln'. The luce is the fresh tish; the salt fish is 
 an old coat. 
 
 ti'en. I may quarter, coz '! 
 
 Sh il. Vou may. by marrying. 
 
 Ei:a. It is marring indeed, if lie quarter it. 
 
 SfiaL Not a whit. 
 
 Evil. Yes, py'r> lady; if he has a qu.arter of 
 your coat, there is hut three sUirts for yourself, in 
 my simple conjectures: but this is all one: if Sir 
 John FalstalTliave committed disparairemeiits unto 
 you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my 
 benevolence, to make atonements and compromises 
 between you. 
 
 Slia!. The Council shall hear it; it is a riot. 
 » .\ title formerly appropriated to ch.iplains. 
 a Custos Kolulorum. 3 By our. 
 
 Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot ; there 
 is no fear of (lot in a riot; the Council, loal< vou, 
 shall desire to hear tlie fear of (lot. and not to hear 
 a riot; take your vizamcnts< in that. 
 
 Sluit. Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again, the 
 sword should end it. 
 
 Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and 
 end it: and there is also another device in my prain, 
 which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with 
 it: There is Anne Page, which is daughter to 
 master George Page, which is pretty virginity. 
 
 Slen. Mistress .Vnne Page ( She lias brown hair, 
 and speaks small like a woman. 
 
 Eva. It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as 
 just as you will desire: and seven hundred pounds 
 of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, 
 upon his death's bed (Got deliver to a joyfal resur- 
 rections!) give, when she is able to overtake seven- 
 teen years old : it were a goot motion, if we leave 
 our pribbles and prabbles. and desire a marriage 
 between master Abraham and mistress .\nne Pa-c. 
 
 Sli'il. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred 
 pounds ! 
 
 Eva. A y.and her father is make her a petter penny. 
 
 Sfiul. 1 know the young gentlewoman ; she has 
 good git'ls. 
 
 Eva. Seven Iiundred pounds, and possibilities, 
 is good gifts. 
 
 S4(//. 'Well, let us see honest master Page: Is 
 Falstatr there 1 
 
 Eva. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar, 
 as I do despise one that is false ; or as I despise 
 one that is not true. The knight, sir John, is there ; 
 and, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. 
 I will peat the door [knocks] for master Page. 
 What, hoa ! pless your house here! 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Page. Who's tliere ? 
 
 Eva. Here is Gofs plessing, and your friend, 
 « Advisement. 
 
 43 
 
44 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act I, 
 
 and justice Shnllow: and hrre youn^ master Slen- 
 der ;'that peradventurrs shall tell you another tale, 
 if mailers frrow to your likings. 
 
 Page, lam p;Iad to see your worships well: I 
 thank you for my venison, master Shallow. 
 
 Shfif, Master Page. I am glad to see you ; Rtuch 
 pond do it your good heart ! 1 wished your venison 
 bolter; it was ill-killed : — How doth good mistress 
 Pago '. — and I love you always with my heart, la; 
 with my heart. 
 
 Page. Sir. I thank you. 
 
 S/io/. Sir, 1 thank you ; by j'ea and no, I do. 
 
 Pfge, I am glad to see v^u, good master Slender. 
 
 S/f-H. How does your ttillovv greyhound, sir? I 
 heard say he was outrun at Cotsale.» 
 
 Page. It could not be judged, sir. 
 
 S/fH. Yon*Il not confess, you'll not confess. 
 
 ^hal. That he will not; — 'tis your fault, 'tis your 
 fault : — *Tis a good dog. 
 
 Page. A cur, sir. 
 
 ShnL Sir. he's a good dog, and a fair dog : Can 
 there be more said 1 he is good, and fair. — Is sir 
 John Falstatr here] 
 
 Page. Sir, he is within ; and I would I could do 
 a good office between you. 
 
 Eva. It is spoke as a Christian ought to speak. 
 
 i^hal. He hath wrong'd mc, master Page. 
 
 Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. 
 
 i^hal. If it be confessed, it is not redress'd ; is not 
 that so, master Page? He hath wrong'd me; in- 
 deed, he hath; — at a word, he hath ; — beheve me; 
 — Robert shallow, esquire, saith, he is vvronj^'d. 
 
 Page. Here comes sir John. 
 Enter Sir John Falrtaff, BAnnoLpn, Nym, a?id 
 Pistol. 
 
 Fal. Now, master Shallow; you'll complain of 
 me to the king ? 
 
 Sha(. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my 
 deer, and broke open my lodge. 
 
 Fal. But not kiss'd your keeper's daughter, 
 
 ShaL Tut. a pin! tliis shall he answer'd. 
 
 Fal. I will answer it straight; — I have done all 
 this: — That is now answer'd. 
 
 Shat. The council shall know this. 
 
 Fal. 'Twere better for you, if it were known in 
 counsel: you'll he laughM at. 
 
 Era. Pauca verba, sir John, good worts. 
 
 Fal. Good worts!* good cabbage. — Slender, I 
 broke your head ; What matter have you against me? 
 
 Silei). Marry, sir, I have matter in my head 
 against you; and against your coney-catching"' 
 rascals, Bardolph, Njm, and Pistol. They carried 
 me to the tavern, and made me drunk, and after- 
 wards picked my poclict. 
 
 Bar. You Banbury cheese !• 
 
 Slcn. Ay, it is no matter. 
 
 Piyf. How, now, Mephostophilus 1» 
 
 Sim, Ay. it is no matter. 
 
 Nuai. Slice, I say, paucdj pauca.- slice! thafs 
 my humor. 
 
 Sleti. Where's Simple, my man! — can you tell, 
 cousin 1 
 
 Eva. Peace : T pray you ! Now let us understand : 
 There is three umpires in this matter as I under- 
 stand: that is — nia-ter Pas^cfidelicet, master Page; 
 and there is myself. J? //'/?>?/ myself; and the three 
 party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Gjtrtcr. 
 
 Page. We three, to hear it, and end it between 
 them. 
 
 Fva. Fery goot: I will make a brief of it in my 
 note-book; and we will afterwards 'ork upon the 
 cause, with as great discreetly as we can, 
 
 Fal. Pistol. 
 
 Pist. He hears with ears. 
 
 Era. The tevil and his tam ! what phrase is this, 
 Jle hears irilh ear ? Why, it is afl'eciations. 
 
 Fal. Pistol, did you pick master Slender's purse? 
 
 S'en. Ay, by these gloves, did he. (or I would I 
 might never come in mine own great chamber again 
 else.) of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two 
 Kdward shovel-Hoards.* that cost me two shillings 
 and two pence a-piece of Ycad Miller, by tiiese 
 gloves. 
 
 tCotswnld in Gloucestc rehire. 
 
 s Worts v,aM the aiici<'nt name of all the cabbage kind. 
 
 1 Pbarpcrs. » Nothing but paring! 
 
 • The uanie of an \icly spirit. 
 
 I King Edward's .shilling uaed in the game of shufflo- 
 
 board. 
 
 Fal. 1b this true. Pistol 7 
 
 Eva. No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. 
 
 Piit. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner! — Sir John, 
 and master mine, 
 I combat challenge of this lalfen bilbo :« 
 Word of denial in thy labras* here; 
 W' ord of denial ; froth and scum, thou liest. 
 
 Slen. By those gloves, then 'twas he. 
 
 Ni/77i. Be advised, sir. and pass good humors: I 
 will say. marry /7Y/7), with you if you run the nut- 
 hook's* humor on me; that is the very note of it. 
 
 Slett. By this hat. then he in the red far-e had it: 
 for though I cannot remember what I did when you 
 made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. 
 
 Fal. What say you. Scarlet and John ? 
 
 Bar. W'hy. sir. for my part. I say. the gentleman 
 had drunk himself out of bis five sentences. 
 
 Eva. It is his five senses: fie, what the igno- 
 rance is ! 
 
 Bar. And being fap,» sir, was. as they say, 
 cashler'd; and so conclusions passd the careires.s 
 
 S/en. Ay, you spake in Latin then too: but 'tis 
 no matter: I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live airain 
 hut in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick; 
 if I he drunk, ril be drunk with "those that have 
 the fear of God. and not with drunken knaves. 
 
 Eva, So Gdt 'ud?e me. that is a virtuous mind. 
 
 Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentle- 
 men ; you iiear it. 
 
 Enter Misfress Anne Page icUh wine,- Misfj'ess 
 FonD and Mistress V xgt. foUowin g. 
 
 Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll 
 drink within. [Exit Anne Page. 
 
 S'en. O heaven ! this is mistress Anne Page. 
 
 Page. How now, mistress Ford ? 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth. \c>\\ are very 
 well met : by your leave, good inistress. \Kissing her. 
 
 Page. WMfe, bid these gentlemen welcome: — 
 Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner; 
 come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all 
 unkindness. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Shat,.. ST.ExnF.n, o??'^ Fvans. 
 
 Sltn. I had rather than tbrty shillings, I had my 
 book of Songs and Sonnets heVe : — 
 
 Enter Simple. 
 
 How now. Simple ! where have you been '' I must 
 wait on myself, must I ? Ynu have not The Bonk 
 of Riddles about vou, have you 1 
 
 Sim. Briah- of Piddles! why. did you not lend it 
 to Alice Shortcake upon Ailhallowmas last, a fort- 
 night afore Michaelmas?' 
 
 Shot, Come, coz; come, coz; we stay f-^r you. 
 A word with you, coz; marry, this, coz; There is, 
 as 'twere a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off' 
 by sir Hugh here; — Do you understand me \ 
 
 Slcn. Ay, sir, vnu shall find me reasonable; if 
 it he .so, I shall do that that is reason, 
 
 Shal. Nay. but understand me. 
 
 Slen. So"l do, sir. 
 
 Eva. Give ear to his motions, master Slender: I 
 will description the matter to you, if you be capa- 
 city of it, 
 
 Slen. Nay T will do as my cousin Shallow says: 
 T pray you, pardon me; he's a justice of peace in 
 his country, simple though I stand here. 
 
 Eva. But this is nnt the question; the question 
 is concerning your marria-re. 
 
 Sh(iL Ay. there's the point, sir. 
 
 Eva. Marry, is it; the very point of it ; to mis- 
 tress Anne Page. 
 
 Slen. Why. if it be so, I will marry her, upon 
 any reasonable demands. 
 
 kva. But can you atlection the 'omanl Let us 
 command to know that of your mouth, or of your 
 lips; for divers philosophers hold, that the hps is 
 parcel of the moutli; — Therefore, precisely, can 
 you carry your good will to the maid ; 
 
 Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you lovelier? 
 
 Slen. I hope, sir, — I will do, as it shall become 
 one that would do reason. 
 
 Eva. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies! you must 
 
 oT^lado as thin as a lath. 
 • If you pay I am a thief, 
 s Tht' liounds of good behaTior. 
 'An intended blunder. 
 
 » I.ip3 
 • iJrunk. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 45 
 
 spealv po^sitaI)lc, if you can cayry her your desires 
 towards ficr. 
 
 Shut. Tiiat you must: Will you, upon good 
 dowry, marry her { 
 
 Slea. I will do a greater thhii than that, upon 
 your request, cousin, m an>' reason. 
 
 Sliitl. Nay, conceive nie, conceive me, sweet 
 coz; what Ido, is to pleasure you, coz; Can you 
 love the maid i 
 
 SJen. I will marry her, sir. at your request; but 
 if there be no prreat love in the be;fmiiins. yet 
 heaven may decrease it upon hetter acquaintance, 
 when we are marned. and have more occasion to 
 know one another: 1 hope, upon familiarity will 
 prow more contempt; hut if y<iu say. ittarrii her, 
 I will marry her, that 1 am ircely dissolved, and 
 dtpsnluteiy. 
 
 Era. It is a fery discretion answer; save, the 
 faul' is in the ort dissolutely : the 'ort is. accordiivJ 
 to our meaning, resolutely : — his meanintr is good. 
 
 Skal. Av. 1 think my cousin meant well. 
 
 iSlen. Ay, or else 1 would I might be hanged, la. 
 
 Re-enter Axse Page. 
 
 Sh'if. Here comes fair mistress Anne: — Would 
 I were young, for your sake, mistress Anne ! 
 
 Anne. The dinner is on the table; my father 
 desires your worships' company. 
 
 Shal. I will wait on him. fiir mistress Anne. 
 
 £i'a. Ods plessed will ! I will not he absence at 
 the grace. [Kxe'inl Shallow anrl Sir H. Kvans. 
 
 A'ivie. Will't please your worship to come in. sir! 
 
 'S!en. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily ; 1 am 
 very well. 
 
 Anite. The dinner attends you, sir. 
 
 Slen. I am not a-hnnirry, 1 thank you. forsooth: 
 Go, sirrah, for all you arc my man. go, wait upon 
 mv cousin Shallow : \Ejcit SiiieLF..] A justice of 
 pe'acc sometime may be beholden to his friend for 
 a man: — 1 keep Imt three men and a boy yet, till 
 my mother he dead: liut what though? yet 1 live 
 like a poor gentleman born. 
 
 Anne. I may not go in without your worship: 
 they will not sit till you come. 
 
 Slen. V faith. I'll eat nothing; 1 thank you as 
 much as though I did. 
 
 Anne. I pray you. sir, walk m. 
 
 Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you: 1 
 oruised my shin the other day with playing at sword 
 and dagser with a master of fence, three veneyss 
 for a dish of stewed prunes ; and, by my troth. I 
 cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do 
 your dogs bark sol be there hears i' the town ! 
 
 inne.' I think there are, sir; I heard them talked 
 of. 
 
 Slen. I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon 
 quarrel at it as any man in Kngland : — Vou are 
 afraid, if you see the hear loose, are you not ! 
 
 Anne. Ay. indeed, sir. 
 
 Slen. That's meat and drink to me now : I have 
 seen Sackeison» loose, twenty times: and have 
 taken him by the chain : Imt, I warrant you; the 
 women have so cried and shriek'd at it, that it 
 pa^sdi — hut women, iudcerl, cannot abide 'em; 
 they are ill-favored, rough things. 
 Re-enter Pace. 
 
 Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come ; we 
 stay for you 
 
 Slen. I'll eat nothing; I thank you. sir. 
 
 Pane. Uy cock and pye, you shall not choose, 
 sir ; come. come. 
 
 Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. 
 
 Pngp. Come on. sir. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. 
 
 Anne. Not I, sir. pray you. keep nil. 
 
 Slen. Truly, I \iull not go first; truly, la; I will 
 not do you that wrong. 
 
 Anne. I pray you. sir. . ,, 
 
 .S(fH. Ill rather be unmannerly than trouolc- 
 somc; you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. [Exeunt. 
 SCENE II. — Tlie same. 
 Enter Sir IUtgii Evans and Simple. 
 
 Era. Go your ways, and ask of Dr. Caius' 
 
 • Threeset-tos, bouts, orbits. ,„ . „ , „ .. 
 
 «The name of a bi-nr exhil.itud at Pans-Garden, South- 
 wark. ' Surpassed all expression. 
 
 house, which is the way : and there dwells one 
 mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his 
 nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, 
 his washer, and his wringer. 
 
 Sim. Well, sir. 
 
 Eva. Nay, it is petter yet : give her this let- 
 ter ; for it is a 'oniin that altogetliors acquaintance 
 with mi.stress Anne Pa,;:e; and the letter is, to de- 
 sire and to require her to solicit your master's de- 
 sires to mistress Anne Page: I pray you het^one : 
 1 will make an end of my dinner; there's jiippirs 
 and ehe.ese to eoiue. yExeuni. 
 
 SCENE III. — A Room in the Garter Inn. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Host, Bahdolph, Nym, Pistoi, 
 
 and RoBiy. 
 
 Fat. Mine host of the Garter. — 
 
 Hiiff. What says my bully-rook? Speak schol- 
 arly, and wisely. 
 
 /'(//. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some 
 of my followers. 
 
 Iliisl. Discard, bully Hercules ; cashier: let them 
 wau^: trot. trot. 
 
 Fill. I sit at ten pounds a week. 
 
 Host. Thou art an emperor, t'ffisar, ICeisar. and 
 Pheezar. I will entertain Hardnlpli ; he shall dravi', 
 he shall tap: said I well, bully Hector? 
 
 Fal. Do so. t:ood mine host. 
 
 Hiift. I have spoke; let hiiii follow : Let me sec 
 thee froth, and lime: I am at a word; follow. 
 
 \K.rit Host. 
 
 Fnl. Hardolph. follow him ; a tapster is a good 
 trade; an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a with- 
 ered servinL-man. a fresh tapster; Go. adieu. 
 
 Bar. 11 is a life that 1 have desired ; 1 will thrive. 
 
 \Exif IJaiui. 
 
 PL-it. n base Gongarian' wight ! wilt thou the 
 SpiiTOt wield ? 
 
 Xiini. He was soften in drink : is not the humor 
 conceiled ? His mind is not heroic, and there's the 
 luiinor of it. 
 
 Fal. 1 am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box ; 
 his llicfis were too open : his fiiehing was like an 
 unskilful sinircr, he kept not time. 
 
 Nt/ni. The good humor is, to steal at a minute's 
 rest. 
 
 Pixt. Convey, the wise it call : Steal ! fob, a fico« 
 for the plirase 1 
 
 Fat. Well, sirs. I am almost out at heels. 
 
 Pi'.t. Why then let kibes ensue. 
 
 Fal. There is no remedy ; I must conej-catch ; 
 I must shift. 
 
 Pi.'.l. \'oung ravens must have food. 
 
 Fat. Which of vou know Ford of this town? 
 
 Pij.t. T ken the 'wi^ht ; he is of substance ^ood. 
 
 Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am 
 about. 
 
 PL^I. Two yards and more. 
 
 Ffil. No quips noAV. Pistol; indeed I am in the 
 waist two yards about ; but I am now about no 
 waste; I am about thrift. Rrictly. I do mean to 
 make love lo Ford's wife; 1 spy entertainment in 
 her; she discour.ses. she carves, she gives the leer 
 of invitation; I can construe the action of her 
 Aimiliar style; and the hardest voice of her beha- 
 vior, to be Englishd rightly, is, / am Sir Mm 
 
 Pi.s/. lie hath studied her well, and translated 
 her well ; out of honesty into English. 
 
 \i/m. The anchor is deep : will that humor pass? 
 
 Fill. Now. the report i-'oes. she has all the rule of 
 her husband's purse; she hath Iciions of angels.' 
 
 P)'.v/. As many devils entertain; and, Tu her, 
 
 bou, say 1. . . . , , 
 
 Niiin. The humor rises; it is good: humor me 
 
 the angels. , ., . i j 
 
 Fat. I have writ me here a letter to her: and 
 here another to Paje's wife; who even now gave 
 me "ood eyes loo; examin'd my parts with most 
 iudicious evliads :• sometimes the beam of her view 
 "t'ilded mv foot, sometimes my portly belly. 
 " Piyl. Then did the sun on dunghill shine. 
 Num. I thank thee for that humor. , 
 
 Fat. O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with 
 
 a Tig. 
 
 iFor ITungarlan. 
 «GoM Coin. 
 
 sEyea 
 
4G 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act I 
 
 eucli a greedy intention, that the appetite of her 
 pye did seem to scorch me up I kc a burning-^hiss! 
 Here's another letter to hur: she bears the l)ur^■e 
 loo; she is a re:4ion in Guiana, ali j;old and Itounty. 
 I will be cheater^ to them both, and they shall be 
 exciu-qucrs to me; they shall be my Kastand West 
 Inilies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear 
 thou tills letter to mistress Page; and thou this to 
 mistress Ford: we will thrive, lads, wc will thrive. 
 
 Fut. Shall I sir Pandarns of Troy becnmc, 
 And by my side wear steeH then, Lucifer take ail! 
 
 N1//11. 1 will run no base humor ; here, take the 
 huiiior letter; I will keep the 'havior of repuUition. 
 
 Ful. Hold, .^irrah, [I'o Rob.] bear you tliesc 
 letters tightly;' 
 Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. — 
 Rojiues, hence avaunt! vanisti like hailstones, go: 
 Trud;^e, plod away, o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack i 
 Falstatr will learn the humor of this aL;e, 
 French thrift, you rogues ; myself, and skirted pa;;e, 
 [Exeujit h' A-LST AW und IUuhn. 
 
 Pi'it. Let vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd and 
 fullam" hold. 
 And high and low beguile the rich and poor: 
 Tester 111 have in poueh,* when thou shalt lack, 
 Base Phrygian Turk ! 
 
 Nt/ni. I have operations in my head, which be 
 huniors of revenge. 
 
 Pisf. Wilt thou revenge T 
 
 Ni/m. By welkin, and her star! 
 
 VUf. With wit, or steel! 
 
 N!/m. With both the humors, T : 
 I will discuss the humor of this love to Page. 
 
 Fiat. And I to Ford shall eke unlbld, 
 Ilow Falstair, varlet vile. 
 His dove will prove, his gold will hold, 
 And his soft couch delVle. 
 
 Ni/rn. My humor shall not cool: I will Incensei 
 I*age to deal with poison ; 1 will possess him with 
 yeHowness,* for the revolt of mien is dangerous; 
 that IS my true humor. 
 
 Pisf. Thou art the Mars of malcontents: T second 
 thee; troop on. [Extunt. 
 
 SCKNE IV. — A Room in J)r. Caius' House. 
 Kntct' Mrs. Quicklt, Simple, and RrcHY. 
 
 Quick. What; John Rugby! — I pray thee, go 
 to the casement, and see if you can see my mas- 
 tor. master doctor Caius, coming: if he do. i' faith, 
 ftrul tiud any body in the house, here will be an 
 old abusing of Gods patience, and the king's Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 Rtif^. I'llgowatch. [E.ri/RrnnT. 
 
 Quick. Go; and we'll have a posset ibr't soon at 
 niglit. at the latter end of a sea-coal tu*e. An hon- 
 f St, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come 
 in house withal; and, 1 warrant you, no trll-(a!e, 
 nor no breed-bate :3 his worst fault is, that he is 
 given to prayer: he is something peevish* that 
 way: but nobody but has his tault; — but let that 
 pass. Peter Simple, you s:iy your name is ! 
 
 Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. 
 
 Quirk. And master Slender's your master! 
 
 Sim. Ay, forsooth. 
 
 Quirk. Does he not wear a great round beard, 
 like a glover's paring knife '. 
 
 Sim. No, forsooth: he hath but a httle wee face, 
 with a little yellow beard ; a Cain-colored beard. 
 
 Quick. A softly-sprighted man, is he not ! 
 
 Si.'H. Ay, forsooth: but he is as tail* a man of 
 his hands, as any is between this and his head; he. 
 liatii fought with a warrener. 
 
 Quirk. How say you ? — O, I should remember 
 jiim ; does he not hold up his head, as it were '! and 
 strut in his gait! 
 
 Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. 
 
 Quick. Well, he;iven send Aiine Page no worse 
 fortune. TrII master parsim Kvans, 1 will do what 
 I can for your master; Anne is a good girl, and I 
 wish — 
 
 Re-enter Rugbt. 
 
 Ru^. Out, alas! here comes my master. 
 Quick. We shall all bo shent:a Kun in here, 
 
 « E.-ichf.afnur, au ofRccr iu the Exchequer. 
 
 ■> Cleverly. ■ F.ilse dice. 
 
 • Sixpeni^e I'll have in pocket. < Instinato. 
 ^.leiiloufy. " Strife, 
 
 * Foolish. ^Brjive. 
 
 good young man ; go into this closet, [Stiuts Sim- 
 PLK iti f/ie clnstt.] He will not sUiy long — What, 
 Joim liugby ! John, what, John,! say !—^ Go, John, 
 go enquire for my master ; 1 doubt he be not well, 
 that the coines not home: — and down, ttuirn, 
 advivn-a, &c. [Si/igs. 
 
 Enter Doctor Caius. 
 
 Caius. Yat is you sing ! T do not like dese toys ; 
 Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet iin boi'tier 
 verd ; a box. a green-a box ; Do intend vat i speak ! 
 a green-a box. 
 
 Quick. Ay forsooth. Fll fetch it you. I am glad 
 he went not in himself; if he had found the young 
 man, he would have been horn-mad. [A.'^i'Ie. 
 
 Cains. Fe,fe,fe,fe/ nm fui, it fait fort cttauk, 
 Je m''en val^'d la cour, — la grande ajjuire. 
 
 Quirk. Is it this, sirl 
 
 Caius. Ouj/ ; nictfe la an mon pocket; Depecke 
 quickly. — Vere is dat knave Rugl)y T 
 
 Quick. What, John Rugby ! John ! 
 
 Ru'^. Here, sir. 
 
 Caius. \ ou are John Rugby, and you are Jack 
 Ruyby : Come, tal:e-a your rapier, and come after 
 my lieel to de court. 
 
 Rug. 'Tis ready, sir. here in the porch. 
 
 Caius, By my trot, 1 tarry too long: — Od'sme! 
 Qu' ai/'J' oub/ie .^ dere is some simples in my closet, 
 dat i viU not for the varld I shall leave behind, 
 
 Qtiick. Ah me ! he'll fmd the young man there, 
 and be mad. 
 
 Caius. diable, diahle ! vat is in my closet? — 
 Villany! lurronl [Pulling Simplk out.] Rugby, 
 my rapier. 
 
 Quick. Good master, be content. 
 
 Caius. Veretbre shall 1 he content-a . 
 
 Quick. The young man is an honest man. 
 
 Caius. Vat shall de honest man do in my closet 1 
 derc is no honest man dat shall come in my closet. 
 
 Quick. I beseech you, be not so llegmatick ; iiear 
 the trutli of it. He came of an errand to me from 
 parson Hugh, 
 
 Caius. Veil. 
 
 Si/n. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to 
 
 Quick. Peace, I pray you. 
 
 Caius. Peace-a your tongue: — Spcak-ayourta'e. 
 
 Sim-. To desire this Iionest gentlewoman, your 
 maid, to speak a good word to mistress Anne I'ago 
 for my master, in the way of marriage. 
 
 Quick. This is all, indeed, la ; but I'll ne'er put 
 my lini^er in the tire, and need not. 
 
 Caius. Sir Hugh send-a you ! — Rugby, haitlez 
 rae some paper:— Tarry you a httlc-a wliile. 
 
 \\V riles. 
 
 Quick. 1 am glad he is so quiet : if he hiid been 
 tlioroui;hly moved, you should have heard him so 
 loud, and so melancholy: — But notwithstiiuding, 
 man, 11! do vmir master what good I can : and the 
 very yea ana the no is, the French doctor, my mas- 
 ter,^ — I niay call him my master, look you, ibr I 
 keep his Iiouse; and 1 wash, wring, brew, hake, 
 scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do 
 all myself; — 
 
 Sim. 'Tis a great charge, to come under one 
 body's hand. 
 
 Quirk. Are you avis'd o' that! you shall find it 
 a great charge : and to be up early and down late: 
 — hut notwithstanding, (to tell you in your ear; I 
 would have no words of it,) my master himself is 
 in love with mistress Anne Pajje; but notwith- 
 standing that, — I know Anne's mind, — that's 
 neither here nor there. 
 
 Caius. You jack "nape; give-a dis letter to sir 
 Hugh; by gar, it is a sliallcnge; I vill cut bis troat 
 in de park; and I will teach a scurvy jack-a-nape 
 priest to meddle or make: — you may be gone: it 
 is not good you tarry hero: — bv gar, I will cut alt 
 his two stones; by gar, he shall not haf.c a stone 
 to trow at his dog. {Exit Si.mi'Lk. 
 
 Quirk. Alas, he speaks hut for his friend. 
 
 Caius. It is no matter-a tor dat; — do not you 
 tell-a me dat I shall huve Anne Page for myself ! — 
 by t;ar, 1 will kdl de jack priest; and 1 liaxe ap- 
 pointe{l mine host ofVc Jarterre to measure our 
 weapon: — I)y gar, I vill myself have Anne Page. 
 
 Qiiu:k. Sir.' the maid loves you. and all shall be 
 well: we must give folks leave to pra e: What, 
 the good-jer!' 
 
 • Sroldfil, reprimandcJ. 
 
 1 The ^oujcrci what the poxl 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 47 
 
 Cains. Ru^by, come to the court vit me; — liy 
 
 gar, if I have not Anne Paj^c, 1 yliall turn your 
 
 head out of my door: — Follow my lieels, Ku^t>y. 
 
 \Exeunt Caiu« ati'i Uuiiiiv- 
 
 Quick. You shall have An fools-head of your 
 own. No, I know Anne's mmd for that; never a 
 woman in Windsor knows more of Anncs mind 
 thun I do; nor can do more than I do with her, 1 
 tliank heaven- 
 
 Fe/tt. [IVUhin.] Who's within there, ho? 
 
 Quick. Who's there, 1 trowl Come near the 
 house, I pray you. 
 
 Enter Fextox. 
 
 Fenf. How now, good woman : how dost thou 7 
 
 Quick. The better, that it pleases your ^ood 
 worship to a^k. 
 
 Ftnf. What news T how does pretty mistress 
 Anne] 
 
 Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, 
 anl fi;entle: and one that is your friend 1 can tell 
 you that by the way; 1 praise heaven for it. 
 
 Ftnf, Shall I do any good, thlnkest thou I Shall 
 1 not lose my suit.' 
 
 Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above: but 
 notwithstanding, master Kenton. 1 11 be sworn on a 
 book the loves you: — Have not your worship a 
 wart above your eye"! 
 
 Fenf. Yes,'marry, have T ; what of that 7 
 
 Quick. Well, thereby ham^sa taie; — i;ood faith, 
 it is such another Nan; but, I detest.' an hnnc^t 
 maid as evt-r broke bread: — We had an hours 
 talk of that wart ; — I shall never lautih but in t!i;it 
 maid's company! — lint, indeed, she is t^iven too 
 much to a lichollys and musing: But for you — 
 Well, go to. 
 
 Fcfif. Well, T shall see her to-day: Hold, there's 
 money for ihce ; let me have thy voice in my behalf; 
 — if thou seest her before me, commend me — 
 
 Quick. Will 1 ! i'faith, that we will: and I will 
 tell your worship more of the wart, the next time 
 we have confidence; and of other wooers. 
 
 Fenf. Weil, farewell; I am in great haste now. 
 
 I Exif. 
 
 Quick. Farewell to your worship. — Truly, an 
 honest ireiitleman ; but Anne loves him not: for I 
 know Anne's mind as well as another does: — (tut 
 upon't! what have 1 forgot f [£xi^ 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— Before Page's House. 
 Enter Mistress Pack, with a letter. 
 Mrs. Page. What! have I 'scaped love-iettcrs in 
 the lioly-day time of my beauty, and am I now a 
 BUliject for them ! Let me see : [Reuii-s. 
 
 Ask me no rea-ioh whij J Inve you ; for Ittmi^li 
 love use rea-yon for kis preclswn/ tie wUnits tiim 
 not for his counsellor. You are not i/oun/r, no 
 viore am I: go to then, there's sijnipdthy ; you are 
 nierrii, so am I: Hii .' tia ! then there's- oiore sym- 
 jiafhi/ ; you lore yark, and sit (bt I : Winild i/ou 
 i*'Mrf hettrr si/nipathi/? Let it suffire thee, mhfress 
 I'ogr, {III the' Iro.yt, if the lure of a .lolilier can 
 suffire.) thill I lore thee. I will not sai/,inty me. 
 'lis out a .\iililierlike phrase; but I say, hoe me. 
 By me, 
 
 Thine own true knight, 
 
 Bii day or night. 
 
 Or any kind of lisht, 
 
 With all his might, 
 
 For thee tu fight, 
 
 Jons FtLSTAFF. 
 
 What a Tferod of Jewry is this! — wicked, wick- 
 ed worlil ! — one that is well ni^fi worn to pieces 
 with age, to show himself a young gallant ! What 
 unwcighcd behavior hath this Flemish drunkard 
 jiickeil (with the devil's name) out of my convcrsa- 
 linii, that lie dares in this in inner assay me! — 
 Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! — 
 ■What should I say to him? — I was then frugal of 
 ray mirth: — heaven forgive me! — Why. I II ex- 
 hibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down 
 of men. How shall I be revenged on him ! for 
 reve'LL'ed I will be, as sure as his yuts are made of 
 puddings. 
 
 Enter Mistres.'i Fonn. 
 
 Jtfrs. Flint Mrs. Paje ! trust me, I was going to 
 your hou-:e. 
 
 ^frs. I'lige. And trust me, I was coming to you. 
 ■you look very ill. 
 
 l^Irs. Ford. Nay. I'll ne'er believe that; I have 
 to show to the contrary. 
 
 il/rs. Page. 'Faith, but you do, in my mind. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Well, I do then; yet, I say, I could 
 show you to the contrary : O, mistress Page, give 
 me some counsel ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. What's the matter, woman ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford.. O woman, if it were not for one 
 trilling respect. I could come to such honor ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hang the trirte, woman; — take the 
 
 t Most probably Shakspeare wrote physician. 
 
 honor : What Is it'! — dispense with trillcs ; — what 
 is It! 
 
 Mrs. Ford, Tf I would but go to hell for an eter- 
 nal moment, or so, I could be knighted. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What 1 —thou liest!— -Sir Alice 
 
 Ford! These knights will hack; and so thou 
 
 shonldst not alter the article of thy gentry. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We burn daylight; — jiere, read, 
 read ; — perceive how 1 might be knighted, — I shall 
 think the worse of fat men. as long as,l have an 
 eye to make diUerence of men's liking ; And yet 
 he would not swear; praised woman's modesty; 
 and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to 
 all unconieliness, that I would have sworn his di.s- 
 position would have gone to the truth of his words : 
 but they tlo no more adhere and keep place to- 
 gether, I ban the hundredth psalm to the tune of 
 Green sleeres. What tempest, 1 trow, threw tills 
 whale, with so many tons of oil in his belly, ashore 
 at Windsor^ How shall 1 be revenged on him'! 
 i think, the best way were to enlertain him with 
 hope, till the wicked tire of lust have melted him in 
 ills own grease. l)id jou ever hear the like! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Letter tor letter; but that the name 
 
 of Page and Ford ditVers! To thy great comfort 
 
 in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin- 
 lirother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for, 
 1 ]irolcst, mine never shall. I v.arrant he hath a 
 thousand ot these letters writ with blank space for 
 dillerent names, {sure more.) and these are of the 
 second edition : He will print them out of doubt; 
 for he cares not what he puts into the press, when 
 he would put us two. 1 had rather be a giantess, 
 and lie under mount Pelion. Well, 1 will find you 
 twenty lascivious turtles, ere one chaste man. 
 
 l\Irs. Ford. Why this is the very same; the very 
 hand, the very words : What doth he think of us ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me al- 
 most ready to wrangle with mine own honesty, 
 ril enlertain myself like one that I am not ac- 
 quainted withal; tlir, sure, unless he know some 
 strain m me. that I know not myself, he would 
 never have hoarded me In this fury. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Hoarding, call you it! I'll be sure 
 to keep him above deck: 
 
 Mrs. Page. So will I ; If he come under my 
 hatches, I'll never to sea again. Let's be revenged 
 on him ; let's appoint him a meeting; give him a 
 show of comfort in his suit: and lead him on with 
 a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to 
 mine host of the (barter. 
 
 Mrs. Flint. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy 
 against him, that may not sully the chariness' of 
 
 « She moank, I protest. 9 .Melancholy. sc.aution. 
 
48 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 our Iinnesty. O, that my husband saw this letter! 
 it woiiM give eternal foot! to his jealousy. 
 
 Mrs. P//irf. Wliy. look, where lie conies; and my 
 pomi man too: he's as far from jealousy, as I am 
 from LilvuiL' him cause; and that, 1 hope, is an un- 
 nie isurable distance. 
 
 ^[rs. Furd. You arc tlie happier woman. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Let's consult together against this 
 greasy knight: Come liither. {They retire. 
 
 Enter Foiid, Pistol, Page, mid Nym. 
 
 Fnrd. Well, I hope it be not so. 
 
 Pi'^t. Hope is a curtail^ dog in some affairs: 
 Sir John artects thy wife. 
 
 Ford. Why. sir. my wife is not youn?. 
 
 Pist. Tie woos both high and low, both rich and 
 poor, 
 Hoth youuic and old. one with another. Ford ; 
 lie loves the gally-mawfry ;* Ford, perpend. » 
 
 F'ird. Love'my wife"? 
 
 PiM. With liver burning hot: Prevent. or ^o thou 
 Like sir .Actreon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels: 
 O, odious is the name! 
 
 Ford. What name, sir? 
 
 Pht. The horn. I say: Farewell. 
 Take heed ; have open eye ; fur thieves do foot by 
 
 night: 
 Take heed^ ere summer comes, or cuekoo-birds do 
 
 sing. — 
 Away, sir corporal Nym. — 
 Believe it. Paii:c; he speaks sense. \Exii Pistol. 
 
 Fori. I wdl be patient; I will find out this. 
 
 Nam. And this is true. [ToPxgf.A I like not 
 the liuinor of lying. He hath wronged me in some 
 humor-i ; I should have borne the humored letter to 
 lier; hul: I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my 
 necessity. lie loves your wife; there's tlie short 
 and thelon^. My name is corporal Nym; I speak, 
 and I avou-'h. 'Tis true: — my name is Nym. and 
 Falsfalf loves your wife. — Adieu! I love not the 
 humor of bi^ad and cheese; and there's the humor 
 of it. Adieu. IFrit Nym. 
 
 Pdi^e. The humor nf if, quoth 'a! here's a fel* 
 low frights humor out "of his wits. 
 
 Fnrd, I will seek out Falstair. 
 
 Pa^t. I never hea rd such a drawling, affecting 
 roguei 
 
 Fi>rd. If I do find it. well. 
 
 Pof^e. 1 will not believe such a Cataian.e tho' tlie 
 pri«'st o* the town commended him for a true man. 
 
 Fnrd. 'Twas a t:ood sensible fellow : Well. 
 
 Pd'^e. TIow now, Meg ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Whithor go you, George? — Hark 
 you. 
 
 Mrs!. Fnrd. How now, sweet Frank ] why art 
 thou inrlancholy .' 
 
 Fnrd. 1 melauclioly ! I am not melancholy. — 
 Get you home, go. ■ 
 
 Mrs. Ford. 'Faith, thou hast some crotchets in 
 thy liead now.' — Will you go. mistress Pai:e .' 
 
 Mrs. Pfis:e- Have with you.— You'll come to 
 diiuirr, George? — Look, who comes yonder: she 
 siiall be our messenger to this paltry kiiiiiht. 
 
 [Aaide to Mrs. Foiiit. 
 
 Enter Mistress Quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Trust me. I thought on her: shell 
 fit )t. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You are come to sec my daughter 
 Anne ! 
 
 Q'lick. Ay. forsooth; and, I pray, liow does good 
 mistress Anne ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Go in with us, and see ; we liave an 
 hours talk with you. 
 
 {Kxfuni Mrs. Page, Mrs. FoRn, and 
 
 Mrs. Ql'M'KLY. 
 
 Page. How now, master Fordt 
 
 Ford. You heard what this knave told me ; did 
 yon not? 
 
 Page. Yes ; and you heard what the other told 
 me ! 
 
 F'n-d. Do you think there is truth in them ? 
 
 Page. HauiT Vui, slaves! 1 do not think the 
 kniglit would offer it: but these tliat accuse him in 
 
 ■••A doK that niissi'S Lis game. 
 
 * A wdley. 
 
 8 A lying sliarper. 
 
 » Consi Jer. 
 
 his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of liis dis- 
 carded men ; very rogues, now they be out of ser- 
 vice. 
 
 Ford. Were they his men? 
 
 Page. Marry, were they. 
 
 Ford. I hke it never the belter for that. — Docs he 
 lie at the Garter ? 
 
 Page. Ay, marry, does he. Tf he should intend 
 this voyauie towards 'my wife, I would turn her 
 loose to him; and what he gets more of her than 
 sharp words, let it lie on my head. 
 
 Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would 
 be loth to turn them together: A man may be too 
 confident : I would liave nothing lie on my head : 
 1 cannot be thus satisfied. 
 
 Page. Look where my ranting host of the Garter 
 comes : there is either liquor in liis pate, or money 
 inhis nurse, when he looks so merrily. — How now, 
 mine host? 
 
 Enter Host and Shallow. 
 
 Host How now, buIly-rook? thou'rt a gentle- 
 man: cavalero-justice, I say. 
 
 i>.kal. 1 follow, mme host, I follow. — Good even 
 and twenty, good master Page! Master Page, will 
 you go with us? we have sport in hand. 
 
 Host. Tell him, cavalerg-justice ; tell him, bully- 
 rook. 
 
 Hhal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between 
 sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French 
 doctor. 
 
 Ford. Good mine host of the Garter, a word with 
 you. 
 
 Host, What say'st thou, bully-rook ? 
 
 I They go aside. 
 
 Shot. Will you r/n Pare] go with us to behold 
 it? my merry host Iiath had the measuring of their 
 weapons; and, I think, he hath ajijiointcd them 
 contrary places: for, believe me, I hear, the parson 
 is no iester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport 
 shall be. 
 
 Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my 
 guest-cavalier? 
 
 Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle 
 of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell 
 him, my name is Brook ; only for a jest. 
 
 Ho t. My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress 
 and regress; said I well? and thy name shall be 
 lirook : It is a merry knight. — \VilJ you go on, 
 hearts? 
 
 Shal. Have with you, mine host. 
 
 Page. I have heard the Frenclunan hath good 
 skill in his rapier. 
 
 Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more! In 
 these times you stand on distance, your passes, 
 stoccadoes, and I know not what: 'tis the heart, 
 master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the 
 time, with my long sword, I would have made you 
 four tall fellows skip like rats. 
 
 Jlnst. Here, boys, here, here! shall we,wag? 
 
 Page. Have with you: — I had ralher hear them 
 scold than fight. 
 
 [Exeunt Host, Shallow, and PAnF. 
 
 Ford. Though Page he a secure fool, and stands 
 so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put otf 
 my opinion so easily : she was in his company at 
 Page's house; and what they made there, I kiiow 
 not. Well, 1 will look further into t : and I liavc a 
 disi^uise to sound FalstalT: If 1 tind I.er lionest. I 
 lose not my labor; if she be otiu-rwise, 'tis labor 
 well bestowed. _ [Exit. 
 
 SCENE U.—A Roojn in the Garter hnu 
 Enter Falstaff and Pistol. 
 
 Fiih T will not lend thee a penny. 
 
 Pisf. Why then the worlds mine oyster, 
 Which I with sword will open. — 
 I will retort the sum in equipage.' 
 
 Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir. you 
 should lay my countenapce to pawn ; 1 have grated 
 upon my good friends for three reprieves for you 
 and your coach-fellow^ Nym; or else you had 
 looked through the grate'Iikea geininy of baboons. 
 I am damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen 
 my friends, you were good soldiers, and tail fellows; 
 
 T Pay yf^ii a^ain in stolen goods. 
 « rra\v.s along with you. 
 
SCEN-E II. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 49 
 
 and when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her 
 fan, I took 't upon my honor, thou hadst it not. 
 
 Fist- Didst thou notsliarel hadst thou not fif- 
 teen penee '! 
 
 Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason : Think'st thou, 
 I'll endanijer my soul ffra/i.i ? At a word, hang no 
 more about me, 1 am no gibbet for you : — go — A 
 short knife and a throng:' — to your manor of 
 Pickt-hatch," go.— Voull hot bear a letter for me, 
 you rogue ! — you stand upon your honor ! — Why, 
 thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can 
 do, to keep tlie terms of my honor precise- I, I, I 
 myself sonietiines, leaving the fear of heaven on 
 the left hand, and hidiug mine honor in my neces- 
 sity, am fain to ^hurtle, to hedge, and to lurch ; and 
 yet you. rogue, will ensconce^ your rags, your cat- 
 a-mount,iin looks, your red-lattice" phrases, and 
 your bold-beating oatlis, under the shelter of your 
 honor ! You will not do it, you 1 
 
 Fist. I do relent: what wouldst thou more of 
 man \ 
 
 Enter RoniN'. 
 
 Roh. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. 
 I'ul. Let her approach. 
 
 Enter Mrs- QuicKir. 
 
 Quick. Give your worship good-morrow. 
 
 Fat. Good-morrow, good wife. 
 
 Quick- Not so, ant please your worship. 
 
 Ful- Good maid, tlien. 
 
 Quid;- I'll be sworn; as my mother was, the 
 first hour I was born. 
 
 Fal- I do believe the swearer ; 'What with me ; 
 
 Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word 
 or two 1 
 
 Fal. Two thousand, t\\r woman; and I'll vouch- 
 safe thee the hearing. 
 
 Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir; — I pray, 
 come a little nearer this ways; — I myself dwell 
 with master doctor Caius. 
 
 Fal. Well, on: iMistress Ford, you say, 
 
 Quick. Your worsliip says very true; I pray 
 your worsliip, come a little nearer this ways. 
 
 Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears; — mine own 
 people, mine own people. 
 
 Quii-k. Are they so! Heaven bless them, and 
 make them his servants! 
 
 Fal. Well: Mistress Ford: — what of her'! 
 
 Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, 
 lord! your worship's a wanton: Well, heaven for- 
 give you. and all of us, I pray ! 
 
 Fal. Mistress Fonl ; — come, mistress Ford, — 
 
 Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of 
 it; you have brought her into such a canaries,* as 
 'tis wonderful. 'Hie best courtier of them all, 
 when the court lay at Windsor, could never have 
 brought her to such a canary. Yet there has been 
 knigiits, and lord.s, and gentlemen, with their 
 coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter 
 after letter, gift after gift ; smelling so sweetly (all 
 musk) and so rushling, 1 warrant you, in silk and 
 gold; and in such alligant terms; and in such wine 
 and sugar of the best and the fairest, tliat would 
 have won any woman's heart ; and, I warrant you, 
 they could never get an. eye-wink of her. — I had 
 myself twenty angels given me this morning; but 
 I defy all angels, (in any such sort, as they say,) 
 but in the way of honesty : — and, I warrant you, 
 they could never get her so umch as sip on a cup 
 with the proudest of them all ; and yet there has 
 been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but I 
 warrant you, all is one with her. 
 
 Fal- liut what says she to ine ! be brief, my good 
 Bhe-Mercury. 
 
 Quick. Marry, she hath received your letter; for 
 the which she thanks you a thousand times; and 
 she gives you to notify, that her husband will be 
 absence from his house between ten and eleven. 
 
 Fal. Ten and eleven 1. 
 
 Quick. Ay, forsooth; and then you may come 
 
 and see the picture, she says that you wots of; — 
 
 master Ford, her husband, will be from home. 
 
 Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him; 
 
 e To cut piirsc.i in a crowd. 
 
 ' Pickt-hatch va.s in Clcrkenwell. » Protect. 
 
 * Ale-house. 
 
 « A mistake of Mrs. Quicklv's for quandary- 
 
 * Know. 
 
 he's a very jealousy man : she leads a very fram- 
 poh^ life with him, good heart. 
 
 Fal. Ten and eleven : Woman, commend me to 
 her; I will not fail her. 
 
 Quick. Why, you say well: But I have another 
 messenger to your worship : Mistress Page hath her 
 hearty commendations to you too; — and let me tell 
 you in your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest 
 wife, and one (I tell you) that will not mi.ss your 
 morning nor evening praj'er, as any is in Windsor, 
 whoe'er be the other ; and she bade me tell your 
 worship, that her husband is seldom from home; 
 but, she hojjcs, there will come a time. I never 
 knew a woman so dote upon a man ; surely, I think 
 you have charms, la ; yes, in truth. 
 
 Fat. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction 
 of my good parts aside, I have no other charms. 
 
 Quick. Iile.s.sing on your heart fort! 
 
 Fal. But, I pray thee, tell me this: has Fords 
 wife, and Pages wife, acquainted each other how 
 they love mel 
 
 Quick. That were a jest, indeed! — they have 
 not so little grace, I hope: — that were a trick, 'n- 
 decd ! But mistress Page would desire yon to send 
 her your little page, of all loves ;t her husband has 
 a marvellous inlection to the little page: and, truly, 
 master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in 
 Windsor leads a better life than she does; do what 
 she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to 
 bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as she 
 will ; and, truly, she deserves it ; for if there be a 
 kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You must 
 send her your page ; no remedy. 
 
 Fal. Why, I will. 
 
 Quick. Kay, but do so, then; and, look you. he 
 may come and go between you both; and. in any 
 case, have a nay-word,^ that you may know one 
 another's mind, and the boy never need to under- 
 stand any thing; for 'tis riot good that children 
 should know any wickedness: old folks, you know, 
 have discretion, as they say, and know the world. 
 
 Fal. i-'are thee well : commend me to tlieni both : 
 
 there's my purse; I am yet tliy debtor. — Boy, go 
 
 along with this woman. — This news distracts ine. 
 
 [Exeunt Quickly and Uoiiix. 
 
 Fust. This punk is one of Cupid's carriers:^ 
 Clap on more sails; pursue, up with your tights; 
 Give fire; she is my prize, or ocean whelm thein all ! 
 
 [Exit Pisriii.. 
 
 Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack'! go thy ways; 111 
 make more of thy old body than I have done. \Vill 
 they yet look after thee ! Wilt thou, after the ex- 
 pense of so much money, be now a gainer! Good 
 body, I thank thee : Let theiii say, 'tis grossly done ; 
 so it be fairly done, no matter. 
 
 Enter BAnnoLPii. 
 
 Bar. S'r John, there's one master Brook oelow 
 would fain -speak with you. Snd be acquainted with 
 you; and liath sent your worship a morning's 
 draught of sack. 
 
 Fal. Brook, is his name ■} 
 
 Bar. Ay, sir. 
 
 Fal. Call him in. [Exit EinnoLpn.] ."^uch 
 Brooks are welcome to me, that o'ertlow such 
 liquor. Ah! ha! mi.stress Ford and mistre-ss Page, 
 have I encompassed you ! go to; via-" 
 
 Re-enter BARiioi-ru wilk Fonu dbguised. 
 
 Fiinl. Bless you, sir. 
 
 Fal. And you, sir: Would you speak with me ? 
 
 Ford. 1 made bold, to press with so little prepa- 
 ration upon you. 
 
 Fal. You're welcome; What's your wiin Give 
 us leave, drawer. [Exit B.*uiiolpii. 
 
 Furd. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent 
 much ; my name is Brook. 
 
 Ful- Good master Brook, I desire more acquaint- 
 ance of you. 
 
 Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours: not to 
 charge you ; for I must let you understand. I think 
 myself "in better plight for a lender than you are : 
 the which hath something embolden'd nie to this 
 nnseason'd intrusion : for they say, if money go be- 
 fore, all ways do lie open. 
 
 « Fretful, pecvi.'sh ' By all means. . 
 
 • A watch word. " .^ cant phrase of exultation. 
 
50 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Fal. Money is a gond soldier, sir, and will on. 
 
 Ford. Troth, and I have a ba;^ of money here 
 troubles me: if you will help me to bear it, sir 
 John, take all, or liall', for easing nie of the carriage. 
 
 Fal. ^h\ 1 know not how I may deserve to be 
 your porter. 
 
 Ford 1 will tell you, sir, if you will give me the 
 IieLiring. 
 
 Fill. Speak, good master Brook; I shall be glad 
 to lie your servant. 
 
 Ford. Sir, I hoiir you arc a scholar, — I will be 
 brief with you; — and you have been a man long 
 known to me, ihougii I had never so good means, 
 as desire, to make myself acquainted with you. 1 
 shall discover a thing to you, wherein I must very 
 much lay open mine own imperfection; hut, good 
 sir Juhn. as you have one eye upon my follies, as 
 you hear them unfolded, turn another into the 
 register of your own; that 1 may pass with a re- 
 proof the easier, sith' you yourself know, how easy 
 it is to be such an oilcnder. 
 
 Fal, Very well, sir; proceed. 
 
 Ford. There is a i,'eni!cvvoman in this town, her 
 husband's name is Foid. 
 
 F(/l. Well, sir. 
 
 Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to 
 you, bestowed much on her; followed her with a 
 doting observance ; engrossed opportunities to meet 
 her : fee"d every slight occasion, that could but nig- 
 gardly give me sight of her ; not on !y bought many 
 presents to give her, but have given largely to 
 many, to know what she would have given : briefly, 
 I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me ; 
 which halii been on the wing of all occasions. But 
 whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind, or 
 iu my means, meed, I am sure, I iiave received 
 none; unless experience bed jewel: that I have 
 purchase! at an infinite rale: and that hath taught 
 me to say this : 
 
 Love like a shadow Jlics, ivhen substance love pur- 
 sues ; 
 Pursuifig that thafJlieSj andjlying wliat pursues. 
 
 Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfac- 
 tion at her hands ! 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fill. Have you importun'd her to such a i)urpose ? 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fal, Of what quality was j'our love then 1 
 
 Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another man's 
 ground ; so that I have lost my editice, by mistak- 
 ing the place where I erected it. 
 
 Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded this to 
 me! 
 
 Ford.. When I have told you tliat, I have told 
 3'ou all. Some say, that, though she appear honest 
 to me, yet, in other places, she enlargeth her mirth 
 so far. lliat there is shrewd construction made of 
 her. Now, sir John, here is the heart of my pur- 
 pose : You are a gentleman of excellent breeding, 
 admirable discourse, of great admittance,^ authen- 
 tic in your place and person, generally alloweda for 
 your many warlike, courttike, and learned prepar- 
 ations. 
 
 Fal. O sir! 
 
 Ford. Believe it. for you know it. — There is 
 money; spend it, spend it; spend more; spend all I 
 have ; only give me so much of your time in ex- 
 change of it, as to lay au amiable seige to the hon- 
 esty of this Ford's wife; use your art of wooing, 
 win her to consent to you ; if any man may, you 
 may as soon as any. 
 
 Fal. Would it apply well to the vehcmency of 
 vour alTection, that 1 should win what you would 
 enjoy'? Methinks you prescribe to yourself very 
 preposterously. 
 
 Ford. O, understand my drift ! she dwells so se- 
 curely on the excellency of her honor, that the folly 
 of my soul dares not present itself; she is too bright 
 to jje looked against. Now, could 1 come to her 
 willi any detection in my hanil, my desires had in- 
 Ftan'c and ar^nniciit to cdminciid themselves; I 
 cdiiM drivi' her Ibcii from the ward ot' lier purity, 
 her rfpnlatinn, licr niarriage-vovv, and a thousand 
 olhiT ln'r defences, which now are too strongly em- 
 battled ai;ainst me: What say you to't, sir John"? 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with 
 your money ; next, give me your hand ; and last, as 
 
 1 Sinco. 3 In the greatest companies. 
 
 3 Approved. 
 
 I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy 
 Ford's wife. 
 
 Ford. O good sir ! 
 
 Ful. Master Brook, I say you shall. 
 
 Ford. Want no money, "sir John, you shall want 
 none. 
 
 Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you 
 shall want none. I shall be with her (1 may tell 
 you) by her own appointment; even as you came 
 in to me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from 
 me: I say, I shall be with her between ten and 
 eleven ; for at that time the jealous, rascally knave, 
 her husband, will be forth. Come you to me at 
 night; you shall know how 1 speed. 
 
 Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you 
 know Ford, sir! 
 
 Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know 
 him not : — yet I wrong him to call him poor; they 
 say, the jealous wittoUy knave hath masses of mon- 
 ey ; for the which his wife seems to he well-favored. 
 1 will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's 
 culler; and there's my harvest-home. 
 
 Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir; that you 
 mi^ht avoid him. if you saw him. 
 
 Fal. Hang him. mechanical salt butter rogue ! I 
 will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with 
 my cudgel: it shall hang like a meteor o'er the 
 cuckold's horns: master Brook, thou shalt know. I 
 will predominate oer the peasant, and tliou shalt 
 lie with his wife. — Come to me soon at night :^ 
 P'ord'sa knave, and 1 will aggravate his stile;* thou, 
 master Brook, shalt know" him for a knave and 
 cuckold: — come to me soon at night. [Exit. 
 
 Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this! 
 — My heart is ready to crack with impatience. — 
 WTio says this is improvident jealousy I My wife 
 hath sent to him, the hour is hxed. the match is 
 made. Would any man have thought this ! — See 
 the licll of having a lalse woman ! my bed shall be 
 abused, my eolTers ransacked, my reputation gnawn 
 at; and I shall not only receive this villanous 
 w'rong, but stand under the adoption of abomina- 
 ble terms, and by him that does me this wrong. 
 Terms ! names ! Amaimon sounds well ; Luci- 
 fer, well ; Barbason, well ; yet they are devil's ad- 
 ditions, the names of fiends: but cuckold ! wittols 
 cuckold ! the devil himself hath not such a name. 
 Page is an ass, a secure ass; he will trust his wife, 
 he will not be jealous: I w'ill rather trust a Flem- 
 ing with my butter, parson Hugh the Wclchnian 
 with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitie 
 bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than 
 my wife with herself: then she plots, tlien she 
 ruminates, then she devises: and what they think 
 in their hearts they may eflbct. they will break their 
 hearts but they will ehect. Heaven he praised for 
 my jealousy ! — Kleven o'clock the hour; — I will 
 prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Fal- 
 start', and laugh at Page. I will about it; better 
 three hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fie, 
 fie, fie ! cuckold ! cuckold ! cuckold ! [Ejcit. 
 
 SCENE III.— Windsor Park. 
 
 Enter Caius and Rugby. 
 
 Caiiis. Jack Rugby! 
 
 Rag. Sir. 
 
 Cains. Vat is de clock, Jackl 
 
 Rug. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro- 
 mised to meet. 
 
 Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no 
 come; he has pray his Pible veil, dat he is no 
 come : by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if 
 he be come. 
 
 Ru^. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship 
 would kill him, if he came. 
 
 Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill 
 kill him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you 
 how I vill kill him. 
 
 Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. 
 
 Cuius. Villany, take your rapier. 
 
 Rug. Forbear, here's company. 
 
 Enter Host, Shallow, Slewdeh, and Page. 
 
 }iost. 'Bless thee, bully doctor! 
 i^haL 'Save you, master doctor Caius, 
 Page. Now, good master doctor. 
 
 « Add to his titles. 
 
 » Contented Cuckold 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 51 
 
 Sle7i. Give you ^ood morrow, sir. 
 
 Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come 
 for] 
 
 Hosf. To see tliee tif^Iit, to see thee foin,e to see 
 thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there ; to 
 see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy 
 distance, tliy montint."' Is he dead, my Ethiopian ! 
 is he dead, my Francisco'? ha, bully ! What says 
 my j^^sculapius ( my (ialen '. iny heart of elder .' 
 ha ! is he dead, bully Stale ! is he' dead ] 
 
 Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of 
 the vorld; he is not show his face. 
 
 Host. Thou art a Castilian king. Urinal! Hector 
 of Greece, my boy ! 
 
 Cuius. I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay 
 six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no 
 come. 
 
 ShaL He is the wiser man, master doctor: he is 
 a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you 
 should fi^ht. you go against the hair of your pro- 
 fessions: is it not true, master Page] 
 
 Pu^>:. Master Shallow, you have yourself been 
 a great fighter, tlioui^h now a man of peace. 
 
 Shal. Bodykms, master Page, though I now be 
 old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my fin- 
 ger itches to make one: thougli we are justices, and 
 doctors, and churchmen, master Page, we have 
 some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of 
 women, master Page. 
 
 Page. 'Tis true, master Shallow. 
 
 Shut. It will be found so, master Page. Master 
 Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am 
 sworn of tlie peace; you have showed yourself a 
 wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself a 
 wise and patient churchman: you must go with 
 ine. master 'loctor. 
 
 H/i.st. Pardou, guest justice: — A word, monsieur 
 Muck-water ]• 
 
 Caius. Muck-vatcr! vat is dat] 
 
 Host. .Muck-water, in our English tongue, is 
 valor, bully. 
 
 Cuius. iJy gar, then I have as much niuck-vater 
 as de Kngiishinan: — Scurvy Jack-dog priest! by 
 gar, me viU cut his ears. 
 
 Hit.sl. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. 
 
 Caius. Clapper-de-claw ! vat is dat ] 
 
 Host. That IS, he will make thee amends. 
 
 Cuius. By gar, me do look, he shall clapper-de- 
 claw me; for by gar, me vill have it. 
 
 Host. And I will provoke him to H, or let him wag. 
 
 Caius. Me tank you for dat. 
 
 Hosf. And moreover, bully. — But first, master 
 guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero Slender 
 go you through the town to Frogmore. 
 
 [Aside to them. 
 
 Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? 
 
 Host. He is there: see what humor he is in; and 
 I will bring tlie doctor about by the hclds: will it 
 do well ] 
 
 Shut. We will do it. 
 
 Page, Shal., and Slcn. Adieu, good master doc- 
 tor. [Exeunt Pare, Shallow, and Slknijeu. 
 
 Cuius. By gar, me vill kill de jiriest; for he 
 speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. 
 
 Host. Let him die: but, lirst, sheath lliy impa- 
 tience; throw cold water oh thy choler: go about 
 the fields with me through Frogmore: I will bring 
 thee where Mrs. Anne Page is, at a farm-house, a 
 feasting; and thou shall woo her: Cry'd game, 
 said I well ] 
 
 Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat; by gar, I 
 love you; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, 
 de earl, de knight, cle lords, de gentlemen, my 
 patients. 
 
 Host. For Oie which, I will be thy adversary to- 
 wards Anne Page; said I well 7 
 
 Caius. liy gar, 'tis good; veil said. 
 
 Host. Let us wag then. 
 
 Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE L— ^ Field near Frogmore. 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. 
 
 Eva. I pray you now, good master S lender's 
 serving man, and friend Simple by your name, 
 which way have you looked for Master Caius, that 
 calls himself Doctor of Phi/sic ? 
 
 Si/n. Marry, sir, the city-ward, the park-ward, 
 every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but 
 the town way. 
 
 Eva. I most fehementiy desire you, you will also 
 look that way. 
 Sim. I will, sir. 
 
 Eva. 'Pless my soul ! Itow full of cholers I am, 
 
 and trembling of mind! — I shall be glad, if he 
 
 have deceived me: — how melancholies I am! — I 
 
 Will knog his urinals about his knave's costard," 
 
 when I have good opportunities for the ork : — 
 
 'picss my soul! [.Si/ig^5. 
 
 To shallow rivers, to icfiosF falls 
 
 Melodious birds .sings uiadi'igals ; 
 
 There viU tv make our vcds of roses^ 
 
 And a t/omsond frograui posies, 
 
 To shullow 
 
 ]\Icrcy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry. 
 
 Melodious bird.'i sing madrigals ; 
 When us I sat in Pahnlony—-~ 
 And a thousand, vugram posies. 
 To shallow 
 
 Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh. 
 Eva. He's welcome : — 
 
 To shallotv 7'ivers, to whose falls 
 
 Heaven prosper the rigiit ! — What weapons is he ] 
 Shn. No weapons, sir: There comes my master, 
 sFcnre. iTerma in Fencing. 
 
 ej)rain of a dunghill. a Head, 
 
 master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frog- 
 more, over the stile, this way. 
 
 Eta. Pray you, give me rny gown; or else keep 
 it in your arms. 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Shfil. How now, master parson] Good morrow, 
 good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice and 
 a good student from his book, and it is wonderful, 
 
 Slen, Ah. sweet Anne Page! 
 
 Page. "Save you, good sir Hugh ! 
 
 Eva. 'Ploss you from his mercy sake, alt of you ! 
 
 Shut. What! the sword and the word! do you 
 study them both, master parson] 
 
 Puge. And youthful still, in your doublet and 
 hose, tiiis raw rheumatic day ] 
 
 Eva. There is reasons and causes for it. 
 
 Page. We are come to you, to do a good .'flice, 
 master parson. 
 
 Eva. Fery well: What is it] 
 
 Puge. Yonder is a most reverend gentlemnn, 
 who belike, having received wrong by soi7ie per.soti, 
 is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, 
 that ever you saw. 
 
 Shal. I have Hved fourscore years and upwards ; 
 I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and 
 learning, so wide of his own respect] 
 
 £(*«. What is he] 
 
 Puge. I think you know him; master doctor 
 Caius, the renowned French physician. 
 
 Evu. Gots will, and his passion of my heart! 
 I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of por- 
 ridge. 
 
 Puge. Why] 
 
 Eva. He has no more knowledgo in Hibocrates 
 and Galen,' — and he is a knave besides; a coward- 
 ly knave, as you would desires to be acquainted 
 withal. 
 
52 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 I'a/fe. I warrant you he's Ihe man should iight 
 with liim. 
 
 Stcii. O, sweet Anne Page ! 
 
 tihat. It appears so, by his weapons; — Keep 
 tlicai asunder; — here comes doctor Caius. 
 
 Enter Host, Caius, and Rigbt. 
 
 Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your 
 weapon. 
 
 Skat. So do you, good master doctor. 
 
 tliiat. Disarm them, and iet tliein question : let 
 tliem keep their hmhs wliole, and hack our En;r- 
 
 liSll. 
 
 Cuius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit 
 your ear: veretore viH you not meet-a me! 
 
 Eea. Pray you, use your patience: In good time. 
 
 Cuius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, 
 .Toliu ape. 
 
 Eva. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to 
 other mens humors; 1 desire you m friendship, 
 and 1 will one way or other make you amends: 
 aiul 1 will knog your urinals about your knave's 
 cii^si-oiub, for missing your meetings and appomt- 
 mrats. 
 
 Caius. Viable.' — Jack Rugby, — mine Host de 
 Jaittrre, have I not stay for hiiu, to kill him ! have 
 1 not, at de place I did appoint .' 
 
 Eva, As 1 am a Christians soul, now, looic you, 
 this is the place appointed; 111 be judgment by 
 mine iiost of the Garter. 
 
 Ihist. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French 
 and Welsh ; soul-curer and body-curcr. 
 
 Caliu. Ay, dat is very good ! excellent ! 
 
 iio^t. Peace, I say ; hear mine host of the Garter. 
 Am I jiohtic! am 1 subtle! am 1 a Machiavell 
 Shall 1 lose my doctor! no; he gives me the po- 
 tions, and the motions. Shall I lose my parson] 
 my priest ! my sir Hugh ! no ; he gives me the pro- 
 vert)s and the noverbs. — Give me tliy hand, terres- 
 trial ; so ; — ■ Give me thy hand, celestial ; so. 
 
 Boys of art, 1 have deceived you both ; I have di- 
 rected you to wrong places: your hearts are 
 mi;;hly, your skins are wliote, and let burnt sack 
 be the issue. — Come, lay their swords to pawn: — 
 Follow me, lad of peace ; follow, follow, toUow. 
 
 Skal. Trust me, a mad host: — Follow, gentle- 
 men, follow. 
 
 aten. O, sweet Anne Page I 
 
 [Exeunt Siiii.., Slev., Pake, and Host. 
 
 Caius. Ha ! do I perceive dat ! have you raake-a 
 de sot of us ! ha, ha ! 
 
 Eva. This is well ; he has made us his vlouting- 
 stog. — I desire you, that we may be friends; and 
 let "us knog our prains together, to be revenge on 
 this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the 
 host of ihe Garter. 
 
 Caius. By gar, vit all my heart: he promise to 
 bring me vere is Aime Page; by gar, he deceive 
 me too. 
 
 Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles : — Pray you, 
 follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Tfie Street in Windsor. 
 
 Enter Mistress Page and Robin. 
 
 I\Irs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ; 
 you were wont to be a loUower, but now you are a 
 leader: Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes, 
 or eye your mx-^ter's heels ! 
 
 Rob. 1 had rather, forsooth, go before you like a 
 man, than follow him like a dwarf. 
 
 Mrs. Page. O you are a Ilattermg boy; now, I 
 see, you'll be a courtier. 
 
 Enter Fonn. 
 
 Ford. Well met, mistress Page: Whither go 
 you ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife : Is she 
 at home'! 
 
 Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang togeth- 
 fr, for want of company; 1 think if your husbands 
 were dead, you two would marry. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Be sure of that, — two other hus- 
 bands. 
 
 Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock ] 
 
 Mrs. Page. I cann'ot tell what the dickens his 
 name is my liusband had him of; What do you 
 rail your knights name, sirrah ! 
 
 Hob. Sir John Falstall'. 
 
 Ford. Sir John Falstafl"! 
 
 Mrs. Page. He, he: 1 can never hit on's name. 
 There is such a league between my Kood man and 
 he ! — is your wife at home, indeed ! 
 
 Ford. Indeed, she is. 
 
 Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir; — I am sick, till 
 I see her. [Exeunt Mrs. Pace and Robis. 
 
 Ford. Has Page any brains! hath he any eyes! 
 hath he any thinking! Sure they sleep; he hath no 
 use of tliem. Why, this boy will carry a letter 
 twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point- 
 blank twelve sco.e. He pieces-out his wife's in- 
 clination ; he gives her folly motion, and advantage : 
 and now she's going to my wife, and Falstall s boy 
 with her. A man may hear this shower sing in 
 the wind! — and Falstaff's boy with her! — Good 
 plots ! — they are laid ; and our revolted wives share 
 damnation together. Well; 1 will take him, then 
 torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of mo- 
 desty from the so seeming mistress Page, divulge 
 Page himself for a secure and wilful Actaeon ; and 
 to these violent proceedings all my neighbors shall 
 cry aim.i [Clocli strilies.] The clock gives me my 
 cue, and my assurance bids me search ; there 1 shall 
 tind Falstatf: I shall be rather praised for this than 
 mocked; for it is as positive as the earth is lirm, 
 that Falstair is there : 1 wJl go. 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, Slendeb, Host, Sir Hugh 
 
 Evans, Caius, and Rugbi. 
 
 S/ifil., Page, &c. Well met, master Ford. 
 
 Foril. Trust me, a good knot: I have good cheer 
 at home; and I pray you, all go with me. 
 
 Sliat. I must excuse myself, master Ford. 
 
 Sten. And so must I, sir; we have appointed to 
 dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break 
 with her for more money than I'll speak of. 
 
 S/tat. We have lingered about a match between 
 Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day 
 we shall have our answer. 
 
 Slen. I hope 1 have your good-will, father Page. 
 
 Page. V on have, master Slender; 1 stand whol- 
 ly for you : — but my wife, master doctor, is for you 
 altogether. 
 
 Cuius. Ay, by gar; and de maid is love-a-me; 
 my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush. 
 
 Host. What say you to young master Fenton! 
 he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he 
 writes verses, he speaks holyday ;» he smells April 
 and May ; he will carry't, he wdl carry't ; Tis in his 
 buttons; he will carry't. 
 
 Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The 
 gentleman is of no having: he kept company with 
 the wild Prince and Poms; he is of too high a 
 region, he knows too much. No, he shall not knit 
 a Knot in his fortunes with the linger of my sub- 
 stance: if he take her, let him take her simply; the 
 wealth 1 have, waits on my consent, and my con- 
 sent goes not that way. 
 
 Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go 
 home with me to dinner: besides jour cheer, you 
 
 shall have sport ; I will show you a monster. 
 
 Master doctor, vou shall go; — so shall you, mas- 
 ter Page; — ana you, sir Hugh. 
 
 Slial. WeB, fare you well: — we shall have the 
 freer wooing at master Page's. 
 
 [Exeunt Shallow and SLKxitER. 
 
 Caius. Co home, John Rugby; 1 come anon. 
 
 [Exit_ itUGBT. 
 
 Ho.st. Farewell, my hearts : I will to my honest 
 knight Falstall, and drink canary with hmi. 
 
 [Exit Host 
 
 Ford. [Aside.] I think, I shall drink in iiipe-wine 
 first with him; I'll make hiin dance. Will you go, 
 gentles ! 
 
 All. Have with you, to see this monster. [Exeuni 
 
 SCENE III.— A Room in Ford's House. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Foiin and Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John! what, Robert ! 
 Mrs Page. Quickly, quickly : Is the buck-bas- 
 ket — 
 Mrs. Ford. I warrant: — What, Robin, I say. 
 
 Enter Servants with a basliet. 
 Mrs. Page. Come, come, eome. 
 1 gLull c-ucourage. a Out of the common style. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 53 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Give your men the charge ; we must 
 be brief. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Marry, as I told you before, John 
 and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brew- 
 house ; and when I suddenly call you, come forth, 
 and (without any pause, or stags^cnng) take this 
 basket on your shoulders: that done, trudge with 
 it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in 
 Datchet-niead, and there empty it in the muddy 
 ditch, close by the Thames' side. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You will do if! 
 
 Mrs. Furd. I have told them over and over; they 
 I.ick no direction: Begone, and come when you 
 are called. [Exeunt Servants. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin. 
 
 Enter Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How now, my eyas-mnsket1» what 
 news with youT 
 
 Rob. My master, sir John, is come in at your 
 back-door, mistress Vord ; and requests your com- 
 pany. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-Ient,« have you 
 been true to us? 
 
 Rub. Ay, I'll be sworn: My master knows not 
 of your being here; and hath threatened to put me 
 into everlasting liberty, if 1 tell you of it; for, he 
 swears, heli turn me away. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Tliourt a good boy; this secrecy of 
 thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a 
 new doublet and ho.se. — III go hide me. 
 
 Mrs. Fiird- Do so: — Go tell thy master, I am 
 alone. Mistress Page, remember you your cue. 
 
 [Exit Rob IX. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I warrant thee; if I do not act it, 
 hiss me. VFxit Mrs. Pace. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go to then; we'll use this unwhole- 
 some humidity, this gross watery pumpion; we'll 
 teacli him to know turtles from jays. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fat. Have I cauglit thee, mij lieavenly Jeivel .' 
 Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough: 
 this is the period of my ambition : tins blessed 
 hour ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. O sweet Sir Jolin ! 
 
 Ful. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog. I cannot prate, 
 mistress Ford. Now shall 1 sin in my wish: I 
 would thy husband were dead; I'll speak it before 
 the best lord, I would make thee my lady. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I your lady, sir John ! alas, I should 
 be a pitiful lady. 
 
 Fat. Let the court of France show me such an- 
 other: I see how thine eye would emulate the dia- 
 mond : Thou hristllie ri:.'lil arched bent of the brow, 
 that becomes tin- >hip-lire. the tirc-valiant, or any 
 lire of Venetian aiiniittiince. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, sir John : my brows 
 become nothing else ; nor that well neither. 
 
 Fat. Thou art a traitor to say so : thou wouldst 
 make an absolute courtier: and the firm fixture of 
 thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait, 
 in a semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou wert, 
 if fortune thy foe were not ; nature is thy friend: 
 Come, thou canst not hide it. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such thing in 
 
 Fat. What made me love thee 1 let that persuade 
 thee, there's something extraordinary in thee. — 
 Come, I cannot cog, and say, thou art this and that, 
 like a many of these lisping haw-thorn buds, that 
 come like women in mens apparel, and smell like 
 Bucklers-bury» in simple-time; I cannot: but I 
 love thee; none but thee; and thou deservest it 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Do not betray roe, sir ; I fear, you 
 love mistress Page. 
 
 Fat. Thou mightest as well say, I love to walk 
 by the Counter-gate ; wliich is as hateful to me as 
 tlie reek of a lime-kiln. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Well heaven knows, how I love you ; 
 and you shall one day find it. 
 
 Fat. Keep in that mind ; I'll deserve it. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or 
 else I could not be in tliat mind. 
 
 Rob. [ivitliin.] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford! 
 » A yountr small bawlt. 
 
 4 A puppet thrown at in Lent, like ahrove-cocks. 
 '■Formerly chictly inhabited by druggists. 
 
 here's mistress Page at the door, sweating, and 
 blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak 
 with you presently. 
 
 Fal. She shall not see me; I will ensconce" me 
 behind the arras. 
 
 Mrs- Ford. Pray you, do so; she's a very tattling 
 wouian. — [Falstaff hides hintselj. 
 
 Enter l\[rs. Pace and Robin. 
 
 What's the matter! how now! 
 
 Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you 
 done! You're shdmed, you are overthrown, you 
 are undone for ever. 
 
 Mrs. Furd. What's the matter, good mistress 
 Page! 
 
 Mrs. Page. well-a-day, mistress Ford ! having 
 an honest man to your husband, to give him such 
 cause of suspicion ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion T 
 
 Mrs. Page- What cause of suspicion! — Out 
 upon you !"how am I mistook in you ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, alas ! what's the matter! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Your husband s coming hither, wo- 
 man, with all the ollicers in Windsor, to search for 
 a gentleman, that, he says, is here, now in the 
 house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of 
 his absence : you are undone- 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Speak louder. iA.nde.] — 'Tis not 
 so, I hope- 
 
 Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you 
 have such a man here; but 'tis most certain jour 
 jiu.sband s coining with half Windsor at his lieels, 
 to search for such a one. 1 come before to tell you : 
 If you know yourself clear, why 1 am glad of it: 
 but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him 
 out Be not amazed : call all your senses to you : 
 defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your 
 good life lor ever. 
 
 Mrs Ford. What shall I do'! — There is a gen- 
 .tlcman, my dear friend : and I fear not mine own 
 shame, so much as his peril: 1 had rather than a 
 thousand pound, he were out of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand you had 
 rather, and you hud rattier; your husband's here 
 at hand, bethink you of some comeyance : in the 
 house you cannot hide liim. — 0, how have you 
 deceived me ! — Look, here is a basket : if he be of 
 any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; anil 
 throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to 
 bucking : Vr, it is whiting-time,' send liiin by your 
 two men to Datchet-mead. 
 
 Mrx. Ford. He's too big to go in there: What 
 shall 1 do ! 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fat. Let me sect I letmesee't! let me see't! 
 I'll in, III in; — follow your friend's counsel; — 
 111 in. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What! sir John Falstafl"! Are these 
 your letters, knight! 
 
 Fat. 1 love thee, and none but thee ; help mo 
 away: let me creep in here; I'll never — 
 
 [He goes into the bast<et ; they cover him 
 iviltifout tinen 
 
 Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy: 
 Call your men, unstress Ford: — Y'ou dissciiibhng 
 knight . ,„ ,. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John! [Exit 
 Robin; Re-enter Servants.] Go, take up these 
 clothes here, quickly. Where's tlie cowl-stall!' 
 look, how you druiiible;* carry them to the laun- 
 dress in Datchet-mead; quickly, come. 
 
 Enter Fonn, Page, Caivs, and Sir Hush Etans. 
 
 Ford. Pray you, come near: if I suspect without 
 cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be 
 your jest;'! deserve it. — How now? whither bear 
 you this '! 
 
 Serv. To the laundress, forsooth. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whillier 
 they bear it! You were best meddle with buck- 
 washing. .. ^ 
 
 Ford. Buck'! I would I could wash mysell of 
 the buck! Buck, buck, buck? Ay, buck; 1 warrant 
 you buck ; and of the season too, it shall appear. 
 I E.reunt Servants luiih the basket.] Gentlemen, 
 
 sjiiJe. ' Bleaching time. 
 
 • A staff for carrying a large tub or basket. ' Drone. 
 
54 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 1 havp dreamed to-ni^lit: III tell you my dream. 
 Here, here, here be my keys: aseend my cliambers. 
 search, seek, lind out: 111 warrant we II unkennel 
 tliG fox: — Let me stop this way first; — So now 
 unoape.i 
 
 Pdi^e. Good master Ford, be contented: you 
 wron^ yourself too mvich. 
 
 Ford. True, master Pa.i^e. — Up, gentlemen ; you 
 sliall see sport anon : follow me, gentlemen. {Exit. 
 
 Em. This is fery fantastical humors, and jea- 
 lousies. 
 
 Cui'i.^: By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France: it is 
 iiol Jealous in France. 
 
 Pifr^c, Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issue 
 of his search, [Exeunt IOvans, PAfiE and Cmv^. 
 
 Airs. Page, is there not a double excellency in 
 this? 
 
 Mrfi. Ford. I know not which pleases me better, 
 that my husband is deceived, or sir John. 
 
 Mm. Page. What a taking was he in, when your 
 husliand asked who was in the basket] 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I am Iialf afraid he will have need of 
 wasliing; so throwing him into the water will do 
 him a benefit. 
 
 Mrs. Pa.i^e. Hang him. dishonest rascal ! I would, 
 all of tlie same strain were in the same distress. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I think my husband hath some spe- 
 cial suspicion of Faistall's being here : for 1 never 
 saw him so gross in liis jealousy till now. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I will lay" a plot to try that: And we 
 will yet have more tricks with Falstalf: his dissolute 
 (hseasc will scarce obey this medicine. 
 
 Mrs. Fo/-d. Shall we send that foolish carrion, 
 mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing 
 into the water; and give him another hope, to be- 
 tray him into another punishment'! 
 
 Mrs. Page. We'll do it; let him be sent for to- 
 morrow eight o'clock, to have amends. 
 
 Re-enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh 
 EvA?rs. 
 
 Fi>:-d. I cannot find him: may be the knave 
 bnigi,^ed of that he could not compass. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Heard you that f 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay. peace: — you use me well, 
 master Ford, do you ! 
 
 Ford. Ay, I do so- 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your 
 thoughts! 
 
 Ford. Amen. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, 
 master Ford. 
 
 Fo'd. Ay, ay; I must bear it. 
 
 Eva. If there be anypody in tlie house, and in 
 the chambers, and in tne colfers, and in the presses, 
 lieaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment! 
 
 Caius. By, gar, nor I loo; dere is no bodies. 
 
 Page. Fie, fie, master Ford ! are you not ashamed"? 
 ■\Vhat spirit, what devil suggests this imagination 1 
 I would not have your distemper in this kind, for 
 the wealth of Windsor Castle. 
 
 Ford, 'Tis my fault, master Page: I suffer for it. 
 
 Eva. You suffer for a pad conscience ; your wife 
 is as honest a 'omans, as I will desires among five 
 thousand, and five hundred too. 
 
 (Uiitis. Ry gar, I see 'tis an honest woman. 
 
 Ford. Well ; — I promised you a dinner: — 
 Come, come, walk in the park : 1 pray you, pardon 
 me; I will hereafter make knov^n to you. why I 
 have done this. Come, wife; — come mistress 
 I'age : I pray you pardon me; pray heartily, par- 
 don me. 
 
 Page. Let's go in, gentlemen; but trust me. we'll 
 mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to 
 my house to breakfast; after, we'll a birding to- 
 gether; I have a fine hawk for the busli : Shall it 
 be so ] 
 
 Ford. Any thing. 
 
 Eva. If there is one, I shall make two in the 
 company, 
 
 Caius. If there be one or two, 1 sliall make-a de 
 tird. 
 
 Eva. In your teetli : for shame. 
 
 Ford. Pray you go, master Page. 
 
 Eva. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow 
 on the lousy knave, mine host. 
 
 Caius. Dat is good ; by gar, vit all my heart. 
 » Uubag the fox. 
 
 Eva. A lousy knave; to have his gibes and big 
 mockeries. [ExeunU 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^ Uoom in Page's House, 
 Enter Fenton a7id Mistress Anne Page, 
 
 Fenf. I see, I cannot get thy father's love: 
 Therefore, no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. 
 
 Anne. Alas! how then 1 
 
 Fenf. Why, thou must be tbysclf. 
 
 He doth object, I am too great of birth ; 
 And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, 
 I seek to heal it only by his wealth : 
 
 Besides tliese, other bars he lays before me, 
 
 My riots past, my wild societies; 
 And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible 
 I should love thee, but as a property. 
 
 Anne. May be, he tells you true. 
 
 Fenf. No. heaven so .speed me in my t>me to 
 come ! 
 Albeit, I will confess, thy father's wealth 
 Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne: 
 Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value 
 Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags; 
 And 'tis the very riches of thyself 
 That now I aim at. 
 
 Annp. Gentle master Fcnton, 
 
 Yet seek my father's love: still seek it, sir: 
 If oi)portunity and humblest suit 
 Cannot attain it, why then — Hark you hither. 
 
 [They converse apart- 
 Enter Shallow, Slendeti, and Mrs. Quicklt. 
 
 Sfinf. Break their talk, Mrs. Quickly ; my kins- 
 man shall speak for himself. 
 
 Stcn. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't:' slid, 'tis 
 but venturing. 
 
 Shal. lie not dismay'd. 
 
 S/en. No, she shall not dismay me: I care not 
 for that, — but that 1 am afeard. 
 
 Quick. Hark ye; master Slender would speak a 
 word with you. 
 
 Anne. I come to him. — This is my father's 
 choice. 
 O, what a world of vile ill-fovor'd faults 
 Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! 
 
 [ Aside. 
 
 Quicks And how does good master Fenton! 
 Pray you, a word with you. 
 
 Shal. She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou 
 hadst a father. 
 
 S!en. I had a fatlier, mistress Anne ; — my uncle 
 can tell you good jests of him : — Pray you, uncle, 
 tell mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole 
 two geese out of a pen, good uncle. 
 
 Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. 
 
 Sim. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any woman 
 in Gloucestershire, 
 
 Shal. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman. 
 
 Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, un- 
 der the decree of a 'squire. 
 
 Shal. He will make you a hundred and fifty 
 pounds jointure. 
 
 Anne. Good master Shallow, let him woo for 
 himself. 
 
 Shal. Marry, I tliank you for it; I thank you for 
 that good comfort. She calls you, coz: I'll leave 
 you, 
 
 Anne. Now, master Slender. 
 
 Slen. Now, sood mistress Anne. 
 
 Anne. What is your will I 
 
 Slen. My will! od's heartlings. that's a pretty 
 jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank 
 heaven; I am not such a siclvly creature, I give 
 heaven praise. 
 
 Anne. I mean, master Slender, what would you 
 with me 7 
 
 Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I wouW little 
 or nothing with you : Your father, and my uncle, 
 have made motions: if it be my luck, so: if not, 
 happy man be his dole!^ They can tell you how 
 things go, better than I can: You may ask your 
 father; here he comes. 
 
 Enter P\nF., and Mistress PAnr.. 
 Page. Now, master Slender; — Love him, daugTi- 
 
 ter Anne. — 
 ■» \ proTi^rb — a shaft was a long arrow, ami a bolt a 
 thick short cue. ■ Lot. 
 
ScEJfE V. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 55 
 
 Why, how now! what docs master Fenton here"! 
 You wroiij nie, sir, thus still to haunt my house: 
 I told you, sir, my daughter is disposd oJ'. 
 
 Feat. Nay, master Page, be not impatient. 
 
 Mrs. Puge. Good master Fenton, coine not to 
 my child. 
 
 Page. IShe is no match for you. 
 
 Fent. Sir, will you hear me ! 
 
 Page. No, 2:ood master Fenton. 
 
 Come, master Shallow ; come, son Slender; in : — 
 
 Knowing my mnid, you wrong me, master Fenton. 
 
 yExeuiU Pagk, Suallow, and Stusumi. 
 
 Quick. Speak to mistress Fage. 
 
 Fent. Good mistress Page, lor that I love your 
 daughter 
 In such a righteous fashion as I do, 
 Perforce, against all checks, rehukes, and manners, 
 1 must advance the colors of my love. 
 And ni* retire : Let me have your good will. 
 
 Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yond' 
 fool. • 
 
 Mrs. Pa.s^e. I mean it not ; I seek you a better 
 hus'iand. 
 
 Quick. I'hat's my master, master doctor. 
 
 Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth, 
 And bowl'd to death with turnijis. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, trouble not yourself: Good 
 master Fenton, 
 I will not be your friend, nor enemy : . 
 My daughter will 1 question how slie loves you. 
 And as I find her, so am I all'ected; 
 'Till then; farewell, sir: — She must needs go in ; 
 Her fatiier will be angry. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Axxe. 
 
 Fent. Farewell, gentle mistress; farewell, Nan. 
 
 Qiiicfc. This 13 my doing now; — Nay, said I, 
 will you cast away your child on a fool, and a 
 physician ! Look on master Fenton : — this is my 
 doing. 
 
 Fent. I thank thee ; and I pray thee, once to- 
 night 
 Give my sweet Nan this ring : There's for thy pams. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Quick. Now heaven send thee good fortune ! A 
 kind heart he hath : a woman would run through 
 fire and water for such a kind heart, hut yet, 1 
 would my master had mistress Anne: or 1 would 
 master Slender had her; or, in sooth, 1 would mas- 
 ter Fenton had her: 1 will do what 1 can for them 
 all three ; for so 1 have promised, and I'll be as 
 good as my word ; but speciously for master Fen- 
 ton. Well, 1 must of another errand to sir John 
 FalstalF from my two mistresses: What a beast 
 am 1 to slack* it. 
 
 SCENE V. — A Roum in the Garter Inn. 
 7i'«to' Falstaff and Baiiiiolpu. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, 1 say, — 
 
 Bar. Here, sir. 
 
 Fat. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast 
 in't. [Exit liAim.) Have 1 lived to be carried in 
 a basket, lilie a barrow of butcher's otfal ! and to 
 be thrown into the Thames? Well; if I be served 
 such another trick, I'll have my brains taen out, 
 and buttered, and give them to a dog for a new 
 year's gift. The rogues slighted me into the river 
 with as nttle remorse as they woulil,have drowned 
 a bitch's blind puppies, tiaeen i' the litter: and you 
 may know by my size, that 1 have a kind of alacri- 
 ty in sinking ; if the bottom were as deep as hell, 1 
 should down. 1 had been drowned, hut that the 
 shore was sheivy and shallow : a death that I ab- 
 hor; for the water swells a m in ; and what a lliing 
 should I have been, when 1 hid been swelled ! 1 
 should have been a mountain of mummy. 
 
 Re-enter BAnnoi.pii, tuilli the wine. 
 
 Bar. Here's mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with 
 you. 
 
 Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack to the 
 Thames water; for my belly's as cold, as if I had 
 swallowed snow-balls for pills to cool the reins. — 
 Call her in. 
 
 Bar. Come in, woman. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Quicklt. 
 Quick. By your leave; I cry you mercy: Give 
 your worship good-morrow. 
 
 4 Specially. ' Neglect. 
 
 Fat. Take away these chalices. Go brew me a 
 pottle of sack liiiely. 
 
 Bar. With eggs, sir? 
 
 Fal. Simple of itself; I'll no pullet^pcrm in my 
 brewage. — [Exit Baiuiolph.J — How now '. 
 
 Quick. Marry, sir, 1 come to your worship from 
 mistress Ford. 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough : 1 
 was thrown into the ford: 1 have my belly full of 
 ford. 
 
 Quick. Alas the day; good heart, that was not 
 her fault; she does so take on with her men ; they 
 mistook their erection. 
 
 Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish wo- 
 man's promise. 
 
 Quick- Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would 
 yearn your heart to see ft. Her husband goes this 
 morning a birding; she desires you once more to 
 come to her between eight and nine : I must carry 
 her word quickly ; she'll make you amends, I war- 
 rant you. 
 
 Fal. Well, I will visit her: Tell her so; and bid 
 her tliinli, what a man is: let her consider his frail- 
 ty, and then judge of my merit. 
 
 Quick. I will iell her. 
 
 Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou 1 
 
 Quick. F.ight and nine, sir. 
 
 Fat. Well, begone : I will not miss her- 
 
 Quick- Peace be with you, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. 1 marvel,! hear not of master Brook; he 
 sent me word to stay within : I like his money 
 well. O, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Fonn. 
 
 Ford. Bless you, sir! 
 
 Fal. Now, master Brook! you come to know 
 what halh passed between me and Ford's wife i 
 
 Fijril. That, indeed, sir John, is my busine.-«. 
 
 Fal. MasUT Srook, 1 will not lie to you ; 1 was 
 at her house the hour she appointed me. 
 
 Ftiril. And how sped you, sir ! 
 
 Fal. Very ill-favoredly, master Brook. 
 
 Furd. How so, sir! Did she change her deter- 
 mination ( 
 
 Fal. No, master Brook ; but the peaking coriuito, 
 her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a continual 
 'larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our 
 encounter, alter we had embraced, kissed, pro- 
 tested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our 
 comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of his compan- 
 ions, thither provoked and instigated by his distem- 
 per, and, forsooth, to search his house Idr his wile's 
 love- 
 
 Fnrd. What, while you were there 7 
 Fat. While 1 was there. 
 
 Furd. And did he search for you, and could not 
 find you ! 
 
 Fat. You shall hear. As good luck would have 
 it, comes in one mistress Page; gives intelligence 
 of Ford's approach ; and, by her invention, and 
 Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a 
 buck-basket ! 
 
 Furd. A buck-basket I 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket: rammed me in 
 with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, 
 and greasy napkins; that, master Brook, there was 
 the rankest eompound of viUanous smell, that ever 
 oll'eiided nostril. 
 
 Furd. .Viid how long lay you there? 
 
 Fal. Nay. you shall hear, master Brook, what T 
 have sullcred to bring this woman to evil for your 
 good, lieing thus crammed in the basket, a couplo 
 of Ford s knaves, his hinds, were called forth by 
 their mistress to carry me in the name of foul 
 clothes to Datchct-lane: they took me on their 
 shoulders; met the jealous knave their master in 
 the door; who asked them once or twice what tliey 
 had in their basket; 1 quaked for fear, lest the 
 lunatic knave would have searched it; but F'ate, 
 ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his hand. 
 Well ; on went he for a search, and away went I for 
 foul dollies. But mark the sequal, master Brook: 
 I suH'ercd the pangs of three several deaths: first, 
 an iiitnlcrable I'right, to be detected with a jealous 
 rotten-bell-wcllier: next, to be compassed like a 
 good billu),' in the circumference of a peck, hilt to 
 point, heel to head: and then, to be stopped in, 
 e Dilboa, where the best blades are made. 
 
53 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 liUc a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that 
 fretted in their own grease: think of that, — a man 
 oC my kidney, think of that; that am as subject to 
 heat as bulttg; a man of continual dissolution and 
 thaw; it was a miracle to "scape suHbcation. And 
 in the height of this bath, when I was more than 
 half stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown 
 into the Ihamcs, and cooled, glowing hot, in that 
 surge, like a horse-shoe; think of tiiat; — hissing 
 hot. — tinnk of that, master Brook. 
 
 Ford. }n good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for 
 my sake you have sullered all this. My suit then is 
 desiderate; you'll undertake her no more. 
 
 FuL Master lirook, I will be thrown into ^tna, 
 as 1 fiave been into Thames, ere 1 will leave her 
 thus. Her husband is this morning gone a birding: 
 1 have received from her another embassy of meet- 
 ing^; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, master Brook. 
 
 Ford. ' ris past eight already, sir. 
 
 FuL Is it ! 1 will then address me to my appoint- 
 
 ment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and 
 you shall know how ! speed; and the conclusion 
 sliall be crowned with your enjoying her: Adieu. 
 Vou shall liave her, master Brook: master Brook, 
 you shall cuckold Ford. [Exit, 
 
 Ford. Hum! ha! is this a vision .' is this a dream'.' 
 do I sleep? Master Ford, awake; awake, master 
 J-'ord ; there's a hole made in your best coat, master 
 Ford. This -tis to be married ! tliis 'tis to have lin- 
 en and buck-baskets! — Well, I will proclaim my- 
 self what 1 am : I will now take the lccJier;he is at 
 my house : he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impossible he 
 should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, 
 nor into a pepper-box: but, lest thedevii that guides 
 him should aid him, I will search impossible places. 
 Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I 
 would not, shall not make me tame : if I have horns 
 to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, 1 'II be 
 horn mad. . [Exit, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Street. 
 Enter Mrs. Pace, Mrs. Quickly, and William. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Is he at master Ford's already, 
 tliiMk'st thou? 
 
 Q'iielc. Sure he is by this; or will be presently: 
 but truly, he is very courageous^ mad, about his 
 throwing into the water. JSIistress Ford desires you 
 to oome suddenly. 
 
 Mrs. Page. 1 11 be will) her by and by ; I'll but 
 bring my young man here to school ; look, where 
 his master comes: 'tis a playing-day, I see. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 
 How now, sir Hugh ! no school to-day 7 
 
 Era. No; master Slender is let the boys leave to 
 pl.iv. 
 
 Qnick. Blessing of his heart! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says, my son 
 profits nothing in the world at his book; 1 pray you, 
 ask lum some questions in his accidence. 
 
 Em. Come hither, William; hold up your head; 
 conic. 
 
 Mrs- Page. Come on, sirrah ; hold up your head; 
 answer your master, be not afraid. 
 
 Era. William, how many numbers is in nouns? 
 
 TV ill. Two. 
 
 Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one num- 
 ber more ; because they say, od's nouns. 
 
 Era. Peace your tattliiigs. What is fair, Wil- 
 liam. 
 
 IVilt. Pulcher. 
 
 Quick. Poulcats! there are fairer things than 
 poulcuts, sure. 
 
 Eva. You are a very simplicity 'oman : I pray 
 you, peace. What is /u/iis, William? 
 
 ]VilL A stone. 
 
 Era. And what is a stone, William? 
 
 Will. A pebble. 
 
 Era. No, It is lapis; I pray you remember m 
 your prain. 
 
 Will. Lapis. 
 
 Era. That is good William. What is he, Wil- 
 liam, that does lend articles? 
 
 IVilt. Articles are borrowed of llie pronoun; and 
 be thus declined, Singutariter, nominativo, hie, 
 hax, hoc. . . , , , 
 
 Eva. Nominativo, hig, hag, hng ,- pray you, mark : 
 gr/titii'o, hujus: Well, what is your accusative 
 case ? 
 
 Will. Acciisatiro, hine. 
 
 Era. 1 pray you, have jour remembrance, child : 
 Acciisatiro, hing, hang, hog. 
 
 Quidc. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant 
 you. 
 
 Era. Leave vonr prabbles, 'oman. What is the 
 focotive case, vViUiam? 
 Wilt. 0—V(icatiro, O. 
 
 Era. Remember, William;/fica/a'e is caret- 
 Quick. And that's a good root. 
 
 Eva. 'Oman, lorbcar. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Peace. 
 
 1 0utrageous. 
 
 Ei'a. What is your genitive case, plural, Wil- 
 liam ? 
 
 IVilt. Genitive case ? 
 
 Era. Ay. 
 
 Will. Cenilivo — horum, harum, li/irum. 
 
 Quick. 'Vengeance of J/ ?i77j/'5 case ! fie on her! 
 — never name her, child, if she be a whore. 
 
 Era. For shame, "oman. 
 
 Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words: 
 he leaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll 
 do fast enough of tliemselves ; and to call horum : — 
 fie upon you ! 
 
 Era. 'Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no 
 understandings for thy cases, and the numbers of 
 the genders >. Thou art as foolish Christian creatures 
 as I would desires. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace. 
 
 Era. Show me now, William, some declensions 
 of your pronouns. 
 
 IVtll. Forsooth, I have forgot. 
 
 Era. It is ki, km, cod; if you forget your kies, 
 your Icies, and your cods, you must be preechcs.' 
 Go your ways, and play, go. 
 
 Jl/rs. Page. H e is a better scholar than I thought 
 he was. 
 
 Eva. He is a good sprag' memory. Farewell, 
 mistress Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Adieu, good sir Hugh. [Exit Sir 
 Hugh.] Get you home, boy. — Cou.'e; we stay too 
 long. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11. — A Room in Ford's House. 
 Enter Falstaff and Mrs. FonD. 
 Fat. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up 
 my sufferance: I see you are obsequious in your 
 love, and I profess requital to a hair s breadth : not 
 only, mistress Ford, in the simple ortice of love, but 
 in all the accoutrciiicnt. complement, and ceremony 
 of it. But arc you sure of your husband now? 
 Mrs. Ford. He s a hirding, sweet sir John. 
 Rlrs. Page. [11' it hin.] What hoa! gossip Ford! 
 what hoa ! 
 Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, sir John. 
 
 [Exit Falstatf. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart? who's at home 
 besides yourself! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Indeed ? 
 
 Mrs. Fori. No, certainly ; — speak louder | ,4s-i'Je. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Truly,! amsogladyouhave nobody 
 here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why? . . 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in 
 his old lunesi again : he so takes on yonder with my 
 husband; so rails against all married mankind; so 
 curses all Eve's daughlers, of what complexion so- 
 ever; and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying 
 Peer out, peer out! that any madness 1 ever yet 
 beheltl seemed but tameness, civility, and patience, 
 
 • Bruochcd, i. c. flnggcd. 'Apttoloara. ■.'Uadfits. 
 
SCEKE II. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 57 
 
 to this his distemper he is in now : I am glad tlie 
 fat knisht is not here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Wliy. does he talk of him '! 
 
 Mrs. Page. (1f none but him ; and swears, he was 
 carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a 
 basket: protests to my husband he is now here: 
 and hath drawn him and the rest of their company 
 from their sport, to make another experiment of his 
 suspicion : but I am slad the knight is not here : 
 now he shall see his own foolery. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page 1 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hard by; at street end; he will be 
 here anon. 
 
 Mrs. Furd. I am undone ! — the knight is here. 
 
 Mrs. Pnge. Why, then you are utterly shamed, 
 and he's but a dead man. What a woman are youl 
 — Away with him, away with him; belter shame 
 than murder. 
 
 Mrs. F(ird. Which way should he go 7 how 
 should 1 bestow him ! Shall I put him into the bas- 
 ket again ] 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. No, I'll come no more i' the basket : May I not 
 go out ere he come ! 
 
 Mrs. Pnf^e. Alas, three of master Ford's brothers 
 watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue 
 out; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. 
 But what make ynu here 1 
 
 Flit. What shall I do T — I'll creep up into the 
 chimney. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Tliere they always u.^e to discharge 
 their birding pieces : creep into the kiln-liole. 
 
 Fal. Where is it ! 
 
 Tlfr.s. Ford. He will seek there on my word. 
 Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but 
 he hath an abstract for tlie remembrance of such 
 places, and goes to them by his note • There is no 
 niding you in the house. 
 
 Fal. I'll no out then. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Ifyougooutin yourown semblance, 
 you die, sir John. Unless you go out disguised, — 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him 1 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know not. There 
 is no woman's gown big enough for him; other- 
 wise, he might put on a hat, a mufller, and a ker- 
 chief, and so escape. 
 
 Fal. Good hearts, devise something: any extre- 
 mity rather than a mischief. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of 
 Brentford, has a gown above. 
 
 Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ; she's 
 as big as he is: and there's her thrum'd hat and her 
 inunier too: Run up. sir Jolm. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, go. sweet sir John: mistress 
 Page and I will look some linen for your head. 
 
 Itfrs. Page. Quick, quick; well come dress you 
 straight: pviton the sown the while. [Exit Fal. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him 
 in this shape : he cannot abide tlie old woman of 
 Brentford ; he swears she's a witch : forbade her my 
 house, and hath threatened to heat her. 
 
 Mrs. Faae. Heaven guide him to thy husband's 
 cudgel; and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness is he; and talks 
 of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 Mrs Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my 
 men to carry the basket again, to meet nim at the 
 do5r with it, as they did last time. 
 
 Mr.^. Page. Nay. but he'll be here presently; 
 let's go dress him 'like the witch of Brentford. 
 
 Hfrr. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they 
 shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen 
 for him straight. [E.vU. 
 
 l\[rs. Page'. Hang him, dishonest varlet ! we can- 
 not misuse him enough. 
 
 We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, 
 
 Wives may be merry, and yet honest too. 
 
 We do not act, that 'often iest and laugh, 
 
 'Tis old but true. Still swine eat all tlie drnjf. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Fonn, with, two servants. 
 Iilrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the bxsket again on 
 your shoulders ; your master is hard at door; if he 
 bid you set it down, obey him: quickly, dispatch. 
 
 \Exit 
 
 1 Serv. Come, come, take it up. 
 
 2 Serv. Pray heaven, it be not full of the knight 
 again. 
 
 1 Serv. I hope not : I had as lief bear so much 
 lead. 
 
 Enter Fonn, Paoe, Shallow, Cahjs, and Sir 
 HCGH Evans. 
 
 Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have 
 you any way then to unfool me again ! — Set down 
 
 the basket, villain: — S-omebody call my wife:- 
 
 ■you, youth in a basket, come out here! — (), you' 
 panderly rascals ! there's a knot, a gansr, a pack, a 
 conspiracy against me: Now shall the devil be 
 shamed. What! wile, I say! come, come forth; 
 behold what honest clotlies j ou send forth to bleach- 
 
 "Page. Why, this passes ! Master Ford, you are 
 not to go loose any longer; you must be pinioned. 
 
 Eva. ' Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad 
 dog! 
 
 Slial. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ; m- 
 deed. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Ford. 
 
 Ford. So say I too, sir. — Come hither, mistress 
 Ford ; mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest 
 wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous 
 fool to her husband ! — I suspect without cause, 
 mistress, do I ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you 
 suspect me in any dishonesty. 
 
 Ford. Weil said, brazen-face ; hold it out. 
 
 Come forth, sirrah. 
 
 [Pull.s tlie clotlies out of the basket. 
 
 Page. This passes! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed 1 let the clothes 
 alone. 
 
 Ford. I shall find you anon. 
 
 Eva. 'Tis unreasonable ! Will you take up your 
 wife's clothes] Come away. 
 
 Ford. Empty the basket, I say. 
 
 Hrrs. Ford. Why, man, why, — 
 
 Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was 
 one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this 
 basket: Why may not he be there again ! In my 
 house I am sure he is : my intelligence is true ; my 
 jealousy is reasonable : Pluck me out all the linen. 
 
 Mrs.'Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die 
 a flea's death. 
 
 Page. Here's no man. 
 
 Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, master 
 Ford ; this wrongs you. 
 
 Era. Ma-ster Ford, you must pray, and not fol- 
 low the imaginations of your own heart: this is 
 jealousies. , , , 
 
 Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for. 
 
 Puge. No. nor no where else, but in your brain. 
 
 Ford. Help to search my house this one time : if 
 I find not what I seeli, show no color for my extre- 
 mity, let me forever be your table-sport ; let them 
 say of me. As jealous as Ford, that searched a hol- 
 low walnut for his wife's leinan.' Satisfy me once 
 more; once more searcli with me. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page ! come you, 
 and the old woman down: my husband will come 
 into the chamber. . .v . , 
 
 Ford Old vvomiin ! What old woman s that ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of 
 Brentford. ,j . , 
 
 Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean ! 
 Have I not forbid her my house"! She comes of 
 errands does she'! We are simple men ; we do not 
 know what's brought to pass under the protession 
 of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, 
 by the figure, and such daubery as tins is, beyond 
 
 oiir element: we know nothing. Comedown, 
 
 you witch, you hag, you ; come down, 1 say. 
 
 l\lrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband; — good 
 gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. 
 
 E'lter FiLsTAFF in woman's clothes, led by Mrs. 
 Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, mother Pratt, come, give me 
 your band. 
 
 Ford. I'll prat her: out of my door, you 
 
 witch! [beats him.\ you rag, you baggage, you 
 a Lover. 
 
58 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 role-rat, you ronyon !' out ! out! I'll conjure you, 
 ']1 rortune-tel! you. [Kxii Fal. 
 
 Mrs. Page, Are you not ashamed T I think you 
 have kill'd the poor woman. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it: — 'Tis a goodly 
 credit for you. 
 
 Ford. Hang her, witch! 
 
 Era. By yea and no, T think, the 'oman is a 
 ■witch indeed: I like not when a 'onian iias a great 
 peard ; I spy a sreat peard under her mulller. 
 
 Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen 1 I beseech 
 you, follow; see but the issue of my jealousy: if I 
 cry out thus upon no trail,* never trust me when I 
 Open again. 
 
 Page. Lets obey hishumor a liltle further: Come, 
 gentlemen. 
 
 [Exeunt Pare, Foup, Siiai.tow, and Fvaxs. 
 
 •Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat Iiim most pitifully. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he 
 beat him most unpitifully, methoughl. 
 
 Mrs. Pagp. Ill have the cudgel hallowed, and 
 hung o'er the altar; it hath done meritorious ser- 
 vice. 
 
 Mrs. Ford, What think you 1 May we, with the 
 warrant of womanhood, and the witness of a good 
 conscience, pursue him with any further revenge ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, 
 scared out of him; if the devil have him not in fee- 
 simple, with tine and recovery, he will never, I 
 think, in the way of waste, attempt us again. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we 
 have served himT 
 
 Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but to 
 scrape the tigures out of your husband'sbrains. If 
 they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous 
 fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will 
 stilt be the ministers. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Fll warrant, they'll have him pub- 
 licly shamed: and methinks, there would be no 
 period to the jest, should he not be publicly 
 shamed. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, shape 
 it : I would not have things cool. [ExeunL 
 
 SCENE III. — ,4 Rootn in the Garter Inn. 
 Enter Host and Baudolph. 
 
 Bar. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of 
 your horses: the duke himself will be to-morrow 
 at court, and they are going to meet him. 
 
 Host. What duke should that be, comes so 
 secretly? I hear not of him in the court: Let me 
 speak with the gentlemen; they speak EngHsh f 
 
 Bar. Ay, sir ; I'll call them to you. 
 
 Host. They shall have my horses; but I'll make 
 
 ' them jiay, I'll sauce them : they have had my houses 
 
 a week at command; I have turned away my other 
 
 guests: they must come olf; I'll sauce them : Come. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — ^ Room in Ford's House. 
 Enter Page, Ford, Mrs, Page, il/rs. Fonn, and 
 Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Eva. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman 
 as ever I did look upon. 
 
 Page. And did he send you both these letters at 
 an instant? 
 
 Mrs. Page, Within a quarter of an honr. 
 
 Ford. Pardon me, wife: Henceforth do what 
 thou wilt; 
 I rather will suspect the sun with cold. 
 Than thee with wantonness : now doth thy honor 
 
 stand, 
 In him that was of late an heretic, 
 As firm as faith. 
 
 Pug^. 'Tis well, 'tis well; no more. 
 
 lie not as Extreme in submission, 
 As in oftence; 
 
 But let our plot go forward : let our wives 
 Yet once again, to make us public sport, 
 Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, 
 Where we may take him and disgrace him for it. 
 
 Ford. There is no better way than that they 
 spoke of. 
 
 Page. How! to send him word they'll meet liim 
 in the park at midnight ! fie. lie ! hell never come. 
 
 Eva. You say, he has been thrown in the rivers* 
 3 Scab. « Scent. 
 
 and has been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman; 
 methinks. tliere should be terrors in him. that lie 
 should not come, methinks his flesh is punished, he 
 shall have no desires. 
 
 Page. So think 1 too. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when 
 he comes, 
 And let us two devise to bring him thither. 
 
 Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes, that Heme 
 the hunter. 
 Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, 
 Doth all the winter time, at still midnight. 
 Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns* 
 And there he binsts the tree, and takes* the cattle; 
 And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a 
 
 chain 
 In a most hideous and dreadful manner; 
 You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know, 
 The superstitious idle-headed eld® 
 Received, and did deliver to our age. 
 This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth. 
 
 Page. Why, yet there want not many, that do 
 fear 
 In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak: 
 But what of this! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Many, this is our device ; 
 That FalstatTat that oak shall meet with us, 
 Disguis'd like Heme, witii hui;e horns on his head. 
 
 Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'il come, 
 And in this shape: When you have brought him 
 
 thither. 
 What shall be done with him ? what is your plot ] 
 
 Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought upon, 
 and thus; 
 Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, 
 And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress 
 Like urchins, ouphes,' and fiiiries, green and white. 
 With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads. 
 And rattles in their hands; upon a sudden, 
 As FalstatT, she. and I, are newly met, 
 Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once, 
 Witli some dillused song ; upon their sight 
 We two in great amazedness will lly; 
 Then let them all encircle him about. 
 And, fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight; 
 And ask him, why, that hour of fairy-revel, 
 In tiieir so sacred" path he dares to tread, 
 In shape profane. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, 
 
 Let the supposed fiiiries pinch him sound, 
 And bum hun with their tapers. 
 
 Mrs. Page. The truth being known, 
 
 We'll all present ourselves; dis-horn the spirit. 
 And mock him home to Windsor. 
 
 Fo7'd. The children must 
 
 Be practiced well to this, or they'll ne''er do't. 
 
 Era. I will teach the children their behaviors; 
 and I will be like a jack-an-apcs also, to burn tlie 
 knight with my taber. 
 
 Ford. That will be excellent! I'll go buy them 
 vizards. 
 
 Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the 
 l^iries. 
 Finely attired in a robe of white. 
 
 Pige. That silk will I go buy ; — and in that time 
 Shallmaster Slender steal my Nan away. {Aside. 
 
 And marry her at Eton. Go, send "to Falstalf 
 
 straight. 
 
 Ford. Nay, 111 to him atrain in name of Brook: 
 Hell tell me all his purpose : Sure, he'll come. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Fear not you that: Go, gel us 
 properties. 
 And tricking for our fairies. 
 
 Era. Let us about it: it is admirable pleasures, 
 and fery honest knaveries. 
 
 [Eirujit Page, FonUjOHd Evaxs. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Go. mistress Ford, 
 Send quickly to sir John, to know his mind. 
 
 [Exit Mrs. Ford. 
 I'll to the doctor; he hath my good will. 
 And none but he. to marry willi Nan Pairc. 
 That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot; 
 And he my husband best of all ellects: 
 The doctor is well money'd. and his friends 
 Potent at court; he, none but he, shall have her, 
 Thoutrh twenty thousand worthier come to crave 
 her. [Exit. 
 
 > Strikea. 
 
 « Okl age. 
 
 'Elf, hobsoblin. 
 
ScEXE XI. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 59 
 
 SCE.'-E V. — A Room in the Garter Inn. 
 Knier Host and SiMrtE. 
 
 Host. What wnuldst thou have, boor 7 what, 
 thick-skin? speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, 
 quick, snap. 
 
 Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with sir John 
 Falstatf from master Slender. 
 
 Hod. There's his chaniljer, liis hoi^e, his cas- 
 tle, his standing-bed. and truckle-!)ed ; 'tis painted 
 about with the story of the prodijjal, fresh and new; 
 Go, knock and caU; he'll speak like an Anthropoph- 
 aginian' unto thee: Knock, I say. 
 
 Sin. Th.ne's an old woman, a fat woman, gone 
 up into his chamber; Ml be so bold as stay, sir, till 
 she come down : I come to sneak with iier, indeed. 
 
 Hit^t. Ha! a f\U woman! the knisht may be 
 robbed: 111 call. — liully knight! lUilly sir John! 
 speak from thy lunirs military : Art thou there ? it 
 is thine host, thine Kphesian, calls.- 
 
 Fal. [w^n/Y'.l How now, mine host! 
 
 l{ost. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the com- 
 ini; down of thy fat woman : Let her descend, bully, 
 let her descend ; my chambers are honorable : Fyc ! 
 privacy! fye! 
 
 Enfer Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat woman 
 even now with me; but she's frone, 
 
 Sim. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of 
 Brentford ! 
 
 Fal. Ay, marry, was it, muscle-shell; What 
 would yon with her! 
 
 Sim. My master, sir, my master Slender, sent to 
 her, seeiuii her eo through the streets, to know, sir, 
 whetherone Nym,sir, that bei^uiled himof a chain, 
 had the chain, or no. 
 
 Fal. I spake with the old woman about it. 
 
 Sim. And what says siie, I pray, sir? 
 
 Fal. Marry, she says, that the very same man, 
 that besuiled master Slender of his chain, cozened 
 him of it. 
 
 Sim, I would, I could h.ive spoken with the 
 woman herself; I had other things to have spoken 
 with her too, from him. 
 
 Fal. What are they ? let us know. 
 
 Host. Ay, come; quick. 
 
 Sim. I niay not conceal them, sir. 
 
 Fal. Conceal them, or thou diest. 
 
 Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about 
 mistress Anne Page; to know, if it were my mas- 
 ter's fortune to have her, or no. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune. 
 
 Sim. What, sir? 
 
 Fal. To have her, — or no: Go; say, the woman 
 told me so. 
 
 Sim. May I be so bold to say so, sir ! 
 
 Fal. Ay, sir Tike ; who more bold? 
 
 Sim-. I thank your worship: I shall make my 
 master glad with' these tidings. [Exit Simple. 
 
 Host. Thou art clerkly,' thou art clerkly, sir 
 John. Was there a wise woman with thee ? 
 
 Fal. Ay. that there was, mine host ; one, that 
 hath tauzht me more wit than ever I learned before 
 in my life: and 1 paid nothing for it neither, but 
 was paid for my learning. 
 
 Enter Binnoi-pii. 
 
 Bar. Out, alas, sir! cozenage! mere cozenage! 
 
 Hoj/. 'Where be my hor.ses? speak well of them, 
 varletto. 
 
 Bar Run away with the cozeners ; for so soon 
 as I cane beyond Eton, they threw me olf, from 
 behind one of them, in a sloujh of mire; and set 
 spurs, and away, like three German devils, three 
 Doctor Faustuses. 
 
 Ho.it. They are gone but to meet the duke, vil- 
 lain: do not "say, they be lied; Germans are honest 
 men. 
 
 Enter Sir Hnon Evans. 
 
 Eva. Where is mine host? 
 
 Host. What is the matter, sir? 
 
 Eva. Have a care of your entertainments: there 
 Is a friend of mine conic to town, ti'Ils me, there is 
 three cousin gerinaiis, that has cozened all the hosts 
 of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colchrook, of horses 
 and money. 1 tell you for good will, look you: 
 • .K cannibal. ' Scholar-like. 
 
 you are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting-slogs; 
 and 'tis not convenient you should be cozened. 
 Fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Doctor Ciius. 
 
 Cains. Vere is mine Host <t.e Jarterre? 
 
 Ho.-t. Here, master doctor, in perplexity, and 
 doubtl'ul ddemma. 
 
 Cains. 1 carmot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a me, 
 dat you make grand preparation for a duke <ie Jar- 
 many ; by my trot, dere is no duke, dat the court 
 is know to come; I tell you for good vill: Adieu. 
 
 [E.nt. 
 
 Host. Hue and cry, villain, go: — assist me, 
 knight; 1 am nnilone: — fly, run, hue and cry, vil- 
 lain ! 1 am undone ! 
 
 [Exeunt Vlr»tand BATinot.pH. 
 
 Fal. T would, all the world might be cozened ; 
 for I have been cozened a»id beaten too. If it 
 should come to the ear of the court, how I have 
 been transformed, and how my transformation hath 
 been washed and cud;:elled, they would melt me 
 out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's 
 boots with me; 1 warrant, they would whip me 
 with their fine wits, till I were as crest-fallen as a 
 dried pear. I never prospered since I forswore 
 myself at Primern.^ Weil, if my wind were but 
 long enough to say my prayers, 1 would repent. — 
 
 Enter I^lrs. Qcicklt- 
 Now ! whence come you ? 
 
 Quid:. From the two parties, forsooth. 
 
 Fal. The tlevil take one party, and his dam the 
 other, and so they shall be both bestowed ! I have 
 sutTered more for their sakes, more, than the villau- 
 ous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to 
 bear. 
 
 Quick. And have not they suffered? 'V'es, I 
 warrant ; speciously one of them : mistress Ford, 
 good heart, is beaten black and blue, that you can- 
 not see a white spot about her. 
 
 Fal. What tell'st thou me of black and blue: I 
 was beaten myself into all the colors of the rain- 
 bow, and I was like to be apprehended for the 
 witch of Brentford; but that my admirable dex- 
 terity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an 
 old woman, deliver'd nie, the knave constable had 
 set me i' the stocks, i' the common stocks, for a 
 witch. 
 
 Quick. Sir. let me speak with you in your cham- 
 ber: you shall hear how things go; and. I warrant, 
 to your content. Here is a letter will say some- 
 what. Good heart-, what ado here is to bring you 
 together! Sure one of you docs not servo heaven 
 well, that vou arc so crossed. 
 
 Fal. Co'me up into my chamber. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. — Anotlier Room in t!ie Garter Inn. 
 Enter Vf.^tos and Host. 
 
 Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me ; my mind 
 is heavj', I will give over all. 
 
 Fent. Yet hear me speak: Assist me in my pur- 
 pose. 
 And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee 
 A hundred pound in gold, more than your loss. 
 
 Host. I will hear you, master Fenton ; and I will, 
 at the least, keep yonr counsel. 
 
 Fent. From tune to time I have acquainted you 
 With the dear love I hear to fair Anne Page; 
 'VVho. mutually, halh answered my atiection 
 (So far forth as herself might be her chooser) 
 Even to my wish : I have a letter from her 
 Of such coiitents as you will wonder at; 
 The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, 
 That neither, singly, can be manifested. 
 Without the show of both; — wherein fat Falstaflf 
 Hath a great scene: the image of the jest, 
 
 [Showing I tic letter. 
 I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host : 
 To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twist twelve and one, 
 Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen : 
 The purpose why, is here: in which disguise, 
 While otlier jests are something rank on foot, 
 Her fother hath commanded her to slip 
 Away with Slender, and with him at F-ton 
 Immediately to marry: she hath consented : 
 Now, sir, 
 
 1 A game at cards. 
 
60 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Her mother ever stroni; ai^ainst that match, 
 And firm for doctor Cains, hath appointed 
 That he shall likewise shuflle her away, 
 While other sports are taskinf^ otV their minds, 
 And at the deanery, where a priest attends, 
 Straight marry her; to this her mother's plot 
 She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath 
 Made pronnse to the doctor: — -Now, thus it rests; 
 Her father means she shall be all in white; 
 And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 
 To tai;e Iier by the hand, and bid her go, 
 She shall go with him: her mother hath intended, 
 'J'he better to denote her to the doctor, 
 (For tiiey must all be masked and vizarded,) 
 That, quaint in jircen, she shall be loose enrob'd, 
 
 With ribands pendant, flaring 'bout her head: 
 And when the doctor spies liis vantage ripe, 
 To pinch her by the hand and on that token, 
 The maid hath given consent to go with him. 
 
 Hunt. Whicli means she to deceive? father or 
 mother J 
 
 Fenf. Both, my good host, to go along with me ; 
 And here it rests. — that you'll procure the vicar 
 To stay for«ie at cinirch. 'twixt twelve and one, 
 And, in the lawful name of marrying. 
 To give our hearts united ceremony. 
 
 Ilonf. Well, husband your device"; I'll to the vicar: 
 Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. 
 
 Fenf. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ; 
 Besides, 111 liiake a present recompense- {Exeunt, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — .4 Room in the Garter Inn. 
 Enter Falstaff ff7irZ Mrs, Quickly. 
 
 Fal. Pr'ythce, no more jirattling; — go. I'll 
 
 hold:* This is the third time; 1 hope good luck 
 lies in odd numbers. Away, go; they say, there is 
 divinity in odd nnmhcrc, either in nativity, chance, 
 or death. — Away. 
 
 Quick, ril provide you a chain; and I'll do what 
 I can to get you a pair of horns. 
 
 Fal. Away, I say; time wears: hold up your 
 head, and mince. [Exit Mrs. Quicklt. 
 
 Enter Foun. 
 How now, master Brook 1 master Brook, the mat- 
 ter will be kRown to-night, or never. Be you in the 
 Park about midnight, at Heme's oak, and' you sJiall 
 see wonders. 
 
 Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you 
 told me you had aj)pointed'! 
 
 FaL 1 went to her, master Brook, as you see, 
 like a poor old man : but I came from her, master 
 Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave. 
 Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of 
 jealousy in hnn, master Brook, that ever governed 
 frenzy. I will tell you. — He beat me grievously, 
 in the shape of a woman : for in the shape of man, 
 master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's 
 beam; because I know also, life is a shuttle. I am 
 in haste; go along with me; Til tell you all master 
 Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and 
 whipped top, I knew not what it was to be beaten, 
 till lately. Follow mc : I'll tel! you strange things 
 of this knave Ford: nn wliom to-night I will be 
 revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. 
 — Follow: Strange thinj^s in hand, master Brook! 
 follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II, — Wmdsor Park. 
 Enter Page, Shallow, and Slf-xder. 
 
 Page. Come, come ; wcMI couch i' the castle- 
 ditch, till we see the li^ht of our fairies. — Remem- 
 ber, son Slender, my daughter. 
 
 Sf.e?i. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and 
 we have a nay-word,3 how to know one another. I 
 come to her in white, and cry ;/iU/// ,- she cries 
 budget ; and by that we know one another. 
 
 Skal. That's good too: Rut what needs either 
 your inu7}i or Uvr budget ? the white will decipher 
 lier well enough. — It hath struck ten o'clock. 
 
 Page. The night is dark; light and spirits will 
 become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No 
 man means evil but the devil, and we shall know 
 hnn by his horns. Let's away ; follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— The Street in Windsor. 
 Enter Mrs. Vagf., Mrs. Fonn, and Dr. Caius. 
 Mrs. Pas;e. Master doctor, my daughter is in 
 green : when you see your time, take her by the 
 hand, away with her to the deanery, and despatch 
 it (juickly: Go before in*o tlie ]'ark; we two must 
 go togei'.er. 
 
 ft Keep to the time. » Watch-word. 
 
 Caius. I know vat I have to do; Adieu. 
 
 Mrs. Pap:e. Fare you well sir. [Exit Caius. 
 
 My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse 
 of FalstalT, as he will cliafe at the doctor's maiTying 
 my daughter: but 'tis no matter; better a little 
 chiding than a great deal of heart-break. 
 
 Mrs. Ford, Where is Nan now, and her troop of 
 fairies f and the Welsh devil, Hugh ? 
 
 Mrs. Pap;e. They arc all couched in a pit hard by 
 Heme's oak, with obscured lights: which at lite 
 very instant of Falstaft^'s and our meeting, they will 
 at once display to the night. 
 
 Mrs. Ftird. That cannot choose but amaze him. 
 
 Mr.9. Page. If he be not amazed, he will I)o 
 mocked ; if he be amazed, he wUl every way be 
 moc kcd. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters, and their 
 lechery. 
 Those that betray them do no treachery. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. The Iiour draws on ; to the oak, to 
 the oak ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Windsor ParJx. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans, and Fairies. 
 
 Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember 
 
 your parts: be pold, I jiray you; l't)liow me into 
 
 the pit ; and when I give 'the watch 'ords. do as I 
 
 pid you; Come, come; trib, trib. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Another Pari of the Park. 
 Enter Falstaf'f di.s^uised, tcith a huck^s head on. 
 Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the 
 minute draws on : Now, the hot-blooded gods assist 
 me! — Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy 
 Kuropa; love set on thy horns. — O powerful love ! 
 that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; in 
 some other, a man a beast. — You were also, Jupi^ 
 ter, a swan, for the love of Leda; O, omnipotent 
 love ! how near the god drew to the complexion of 
 a goose ! — A fault done first in the form of a beast ; 
 — () Jove, a beastly fault! and then another fault 
 in the semblance of a fowl ; think ou*t Jove, a foul 
 fault. — When gods have hot backs, what shall poor 
 men do] For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and 
 the fattest, I tliiuk i' the forest : send me a cool rut- 
 time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow ! 
 Wlio comes here .' my doe 1 
 
 Enter Mrs. Fonn and Mjs. Pagk. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir Johnl art thou there, my deer! 
 my male deer ! 
 
 Fal. My doe with the black scut ] — Let tlie sky 
 rain potatoes; let it timnder to the tune of Grctii 
 Sleeves; Iiail kissing comfits, and snow eringoes; 
 let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shel- 
 ter me here. [Einhraelng tier. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Mistress Pago is come witii me, 
 sweet-heart. 
 
 Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch: 
 I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders f(ir 
 the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath 
 your husbands. Am I a woodman ] ha! Speak I 
 
SCEKE IV. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 61 
 
 like Heme the hunterl — Why, now is Cupid a 
 chrld of conscience ; he makes restitution. As I am 
 a true spirit, welcome. [Noise wilhin. 
 
 Mrs. Page, Alas ! what noise? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven Ibrj^ive our sins! 
 
 Fal. What should this be? 
 
 m7s. Po^e. } A^'^J'' ^"""J- ^^'^'J '""" "■^- 
 
 Fal. I think the devil will not have me danirx'fi, 
 
 lest the oil tliat is in me should set hell on tire ; he 
 
 would never else cross me tiius. 
 
 Enkr Sir Hugh Evaxs like a miyr ,- Mrs. Quick- 
 ly (md Pistol; Axxe Pagf. f/,s the Fain/ Queen, 
 atlt7ideff by her brother and nfherSy drdscd like 
 fairies, wilh waxen tapers on their heads. 
 
 Quirk. Fairies, black, grey, ffreen and white, 
 You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night, 
 You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, 
 
 Attend your ofliee and your quality. 
 
 Crier llobiioblin, make the fairy o-yes. 
 
 J'isf. Klves, list your names ; silence, you airy toys. 
 Cz-icAv;/. to Windsor chimney shalt thou leap: 
 Where tires thuu find'st unrak'd, and hearths uii- 
 
 swept, 
 There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry: 
 Our rauiant Queen hates sluts and sliittery. 
 
 Fal. They are fairies; he, that speaks to them, 
 shall die : 
 rU wink and couch : No man their works must eye. 
 [Lies down upon his face. 
 
 Eva. Where's Pede? — Go you, and where you 
 lind a maid, 
 That, ere slie sleep, has thrice her prayers said, 
 Raise up the orj;ans of her fantasy, 
 Sleep she as sound as careless infanry: 
 But those as sleep, and think not on their sins, 
 pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and 
 shins. 
 
 Quick. About, about; 
 Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out; 
 Strew ^ood luck, ouphes, on every sacred room, 
 That it may stand till the perpetual doom. 
 In state as wholesome, as m state 'tis tit; 
 Worthy the owner, and tiie owner it. 
 The several chairs of order look you scour 
 With juice of balm, and every precious tlowcr; 
 Kach lair instalment, coat, and several crest, 
 With royal blazon, evermore be blest! 
 And ninhlly. meadow-fairies, look you sing. 
 Like to the (iarter's compass, in a ring: 
 The exjiressiire that it bears, green let it be, 
 More rerliie-fresh than all the field to see; 
 And, lliii/i/ .SY)(7 qui mal y pcnae, write. 
 In emerald tiil'is, llowers purple, blue, and white; 
 Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, 
 Buckled below fair knighthood's bendmg knee: 
 Fairies use tlowers for their charactery. 
 Away; disperse: But, till 'tis one o'clock, 
 Our dance of custom, round about the oak 
 Of Heme the hunter, let us not forget. 
 
 Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves 
 in order set: 
 And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, 
 To guide our measure round about the tree. 
 But," stay ; 1 smell a man of middle earth. 
 
 Fa!. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy ! 
 lest he tr;m-^f.")itn me to a piece of cheese ! 
 
 P(i/. Vile worm, thou wast o'erlooked even in 
 thy birth. « 
 
 Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end: 
 If he be chaste, the flame will back descend. 
 And turn him to no pain : but if he start, 
 It is the llcshof a corrupted heart. 
 
 Pisl. A trial, come. 
 
 Eva. Come, will this wood take fireT 
 
 [They burn him with their tapers. 
 
 Fal. Oh, oh, oh ! 
 
 Quirk. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! 
 About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme: 
 And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. 
 
 Eva. U is riglit ; indeed he is full of lecheries and 
 iniquity. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Fye on sinful fantasy f 
 Fye on lust and luxury 
 Lust is but a bloody fir-e. 
 Kindled with unchaste desirCf 
 
 Fed in heart ; whose jlames aspire. 
 
 As tht/ughts do bUnv Uunijdgker and higher. 
 
 Pinch hi/u, fairies, niutuaUy ; 
 
 Pinch him for hi^ vtlUiny ; • 
 
 Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, 
 Till candk's, and starlight, and moonshine be out* 
 
 [During this song, the fairies jnnch FalstaiT. Doc- 
 tor Caius comes one way, and steals away n fairy 
 in green ; Slender another way, and takes (rff' 
 a. fairy in xchite ,- and Fenton comes, and steals 
 away Mrs. Anne Page. A noise of hunting Is 
 made ivittdn. All the fairies run away. Fal- 
 sid.^ pulls (fff'hls buck^s head, and Tises.\ 
 
 Enter Pace, Fnnn, Mrs. Page, and Mrs. Fohd. 
 They lay hold on him. 
 
 Page. Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch'd 
 you now ; 
 Will none but Kerne the hunter serve your turn ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. I pray you, come; hold up the jest 
 no higher: — ■ 
 Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives ? 
 See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes* 
 Become the forest better tlian the town? 
 
 Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? — Mas- 
 ter Brook, Falstafls aknave, acockoldly knave; here 
 are his horns, master Brook: And, master Brook, 
 he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck- 
 basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; 
 which must be paid to master Brook; his horses 
 are arrested for it, master Brook. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck: we 
 could never meet. 1 will never take you for my 
 love again, but I will always count you my deer. 
 
 Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made aii 
 ass. 
 
 Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are 
 extant. 
 
 Fal. And those are not fairies? I was three or 
 four times in the thought, they were not fairies : and 
 yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise 
 of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery 
 into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all 
 rhyme and reason, that they were fairies- See now, 
 how wit may be made a jack-a-Icnt, when 'tis upon 
 ill employment. 
 
 Eva. Sir John Falstaf)'. serve Got, and leave your 
 desires, and fairies will not pinse you. 
 
 Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh. 
 
 Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray 
 you. 
 
 Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till 
 thou art able to woo her in good Knglish. 
 
 Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun. and dried 
 it, that it wants matter to prevent so ^ross o'er- 
 reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat 
 too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize?* 'tis tinie I 
 were choked wilh a piece of toasted cheese. 
 
 Eva. Seese is not good to give putter ; your pelly 
 is all putter, 
 
 Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at 
 the taunt of one that makes fritters of P^nglish ? 
 This is enough to be the decay of late-walking 
 through the realm. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though 
 we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by 
 the head and shoulders, and have given onrsilves 
 without scruple to hell, that ever the devU could 
 have made you our delight? 
 
 Ford, what, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax? 
 
 Mrs, Page. A pufled man ? 
 
 Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable 
 entrails. 
 
 Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan T 
 
 Page. And as poor as Job f 
 
 Ford. And as wicked as his wife? 
 
 Eva. And given to tbrnications, and to taverns, 
 and sack, and wine, and melheglins, and to drink- 
 ings. and swearings, and starings, pribbles and 
 prabbles? 
 
 Fal. Well, 1 am your theme: you have the start 
 of me : I am dejected ; I am not able to answer the 
 Welsh flannel ; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er 
 me: use me as you will. 
 
 FoJ-d. Marry, sir. we'll bring you to Windsor, to 
 one master Brook, that you have cozened of money 
 
 * Horns which Falstaff had. 
 
 • A fool's cap of Welsh materials. 
 
(52 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 to wliom you should have bceu a pantler: over and 
 above Ihat you have suffered, I thuilc to repay that 
 money will be a biting affliction. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make 
 amends. 
 Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. 
 
 Furd. Well, here's my hand ; all's forgiven at last- 
 
 Page. Yet be clieerful, knight : thou shalt eat a 
 posset to-night at my house ; where I will desire 
 thee to laugh at my wife that now laughs at thee: 
 Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that : — If Anne Page 
 be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius's wite. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Enter Sle:jder. 
 
 Slcn. Whoo, ho ! ho! father Page ! 
 
 Page. Son ! Iiow now l how now, son ? have you 
 despatched 1 
 
 Slen. Despatched — I'll make the best in Glou- 
 cestershire know on't; would 1 were hanged, la, 
 else. 
 
 Page. Of what, son 1 
 
 Sleh. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress 
 Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy: If it 
 had not been i' tile churcn, I would have swinged 
 liim, or he should have swinged me. If I did not 
 think it had been Anne Page, would I might never 
 stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy. 
 
 Page. Upon my life, then, you took the wrong. 
 
 Sleii. What need you tell me tliat'? I think so, 
 when I took a boy for a girl : If I had been married 
 to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would 
 not have had him. 
 
 Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I 
 tell you, how you should know my daughter by her 
 garments ? 
 
 Slen. I went to her in white, and cried mum, and 
 she cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed ; 
 and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. 
 
 Eva. Jeshu ! Master Slender, cannot you see 
 btit marry boys 7 
 
 Page. 0, I am vexed at heart : What shall X do '! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry : I knew 
 of your purpose : turned my daughter into green ; 
 and, indeed, siie is now with the doctor at the dean- 
 ery, and there married. 
 
 Enter Caius. 
 Caius. Vere is mistress Page ! By gar, I am 
 cozened ; I ha' married iin garcon, a boy ; unpaisan, I 
 
 by gar, a boy ; it is not Anne Page : by gar, lam 
 cozened. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green? 
 
 Vaiiis. Aye, by gar, and 'tis a boy : by gar, I'll 
 rai.so all Wnidsor [Exit Caius. 
 
 Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right 
 Anne 1 
 
 Page. My heart misgives me : Here comes mas- 
 ter Kenton. 
 
 Eater Fenton and Anne Page. 
 
 How now, master Fenton t 
 
 Anne. Pardon, good father! -good my mother, 
 pardon ! 
 
 Page. Now, mistress ! how chance you went not 
 with master Slender ] 
 
 Mrs. Page, Why went you not with master doc- 
 tor, maid ] 
 
 Fent. 'V'ou do amaze her: Hear the truth of it. 
 You would have married her most shamefully, 
 Where there was no proportion held in love. 
 The truth is, she and 1, long since contracted. 
 Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. 
 The oHence is holy, that she hath committed : 
 .\nd this deceit lo.ses the name of craft, 
 (If disobedience, or unduteous title; 
 Since therein she doth evitate and shun 
 A thousand irreligious cursed hours. 
 Which forced marriage would have brought upon 
 her. 
 
 Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no remedy : — 
 In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state; 
 Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. 
 
 Fat. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special 
 stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. 
 
 Page. Well, what remedy ? Fenton, heaven give 
 thee joy ! 
 What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd. 
 
 Fat. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are 
 chas'd. 
 
 Era. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding. 
 
 Mrs. Page, Well, I will muse no further: — 
 Master Fenton, 
 Heaven give you many, many merry days ! 
 Good husband, let us every one go lionie. 
 And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire; 
 Sir John and ail. 
 
 Ford. Let it be so : — Sir John, 
 
 To master Brook you yet shall hold your word; 
 For he, to-night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. [Exeunt. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT: 
 
 OR, 
 
 WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Orsino, Duke of Illyria. 
 
 Skbastian, a young Gentlenmn, BroMer /o Viola. 
 
 Antonio, a Sea Captain, Friend tu Sebastian. 
 
 A Sea-Captain, Friend tu Viola. 
 
 Valentine, 1 
 
 Cuiiio, / 
 
 SiiiToBi Belch, f7/ic/f "/Olivia. 
 
 Siti Andrew Ague-Cheek. 
 
 Malvoho, steward to Olivia. 
 
 ■ Gentlemen attending on lite Duke. 
 
 Fabian, 
 Clown, 
 
 Servants to Olivia. 
 
 Olivia, a rich Countess. 
 Viola, in love witli the Duke. 
 Mauia, Olivia's woman. 
 
 Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, ami 
 oilier Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, a city in Illyria; and the Sea-Coast near it. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — An Apartmaii in (he Duke's palace^ 
 Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians attending. 
 
 Duke. Ifmusicbethe food of love, play on, 
 Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting. 
 
 The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
 
 That strain again; — it had a dying fill: 
 O. it came o'er my ear hke the sweet south, 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 StealiniJ, and giving odor. — Knough ; no more; 
 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. 
 O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou ! 
 That notwithstanding thy capacity 
 Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, 
 Of what validity and pitch soever, 
 lUit falls into abatement and low price, 
 Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy 
 That it alone is high-fanta.stical. 
 
 Cnr. Will you go hunt, my lord? 
 
 Duke. What. Curio'.' 
 
 Cur- The hart. 
 
 Vuke, Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: 
 O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
 Methouglit, she purg'd the air of pestilence ; 
 That instant was I turned into a hart; 
 And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds. 
 E'er since pursue me. — I low now! what news 
 from her 1 
 
 Enter Valentine, 
 
 Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, 
 But from her handmaid do return this answer: 
 The element iUelf, till seven years' heat, 
 Shall not behold her fice at ample view; 
 But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk. 
 And water once a day her chamber round 
 With eye otTending brine: all this, to season 
 A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh 
 And lasting, in her sad rememtirance. 
 
 Duke. 0, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, 
 
 To pay this debt of love but to a brother. 
 How will she love, when the rich golden shaft, 
 Hath kill'd the tlock of all affections else 
 That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart. 
 These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill d 
 (Her sweet perfections) with one self king ! — 
 Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ; 
 Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bower.'?. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE n.— The Sea Coast. 
 
 Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors. 
 
 Vio. What country, friends, is this! 
 
 Cap. Hlyria, lady. 
 
 Vk>. And what should I do in Hlyria 1 
 My brother he is in Klysium. 
 
 Perchance, he is not drown'd: — What think you, 
 sailors 1 
 
 Cap. U is perchance, that you yourself were 
 saved. 
 
 Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, 
 may he be. 
 
 Cap. True, madam: and to comfort you with 
 chance. 
 Assure yourself, after our ship did split. 
 When you. and that poor number saved with you, 
 Hung on our driving boat. 1 saw your brother, 
 Most provident in peril, bind himself 
 (Courage and hope both teaching hmi the practice) 
 To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; 
 Where, like Arion on thedolphni's back, 
 T saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, 
 So long as I could see. 
 
 Vio. For saying so, there's gold ; 
 
 Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope. 
 Whereto thy speech serves for authority, 
 The like of him. Know'st thou this country T 
 
 Cap. Ay, madam, well ; for I was bred and born, 
 Not three hours' travel from this very place. 
 
 Vio. Who governs here ! 
 
 63 
 
64 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT : 
 
 Cap. A noble duke, in nature, 
 
 As in his name. 
 
 Vk). What is his name ? 
 
 Cop. (Irsino. 
 
 V'm. Orsino! I have hcaril my fatlier name him! 
 He was a bachelor then. 
 
 Cap. And so is now. 
 
 Or was so very late : for but a month 
 Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh 
 In murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do, 
 The less will prattle of,) that he did seek 
 The love of fair Olivia. 
 
 Vio. What's she'! 
 
 Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count 
 That died some twelvemontli since ; then leaving 
 
 her 
 In the protection of his son, her brother. 
 Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, 
 They say, she hath abjur'd the company 
 And .sigiit of men. 
 
 Vio. O, that I served that lady : 
 
 And might not be delivered to the world. 
 Till I had made mine own occasion mellow. 
 What my estate is. 
 
 Cap. . That were hard to compass ; 
 
 Because she will admit no kind of suit. 
 No, not the duke's. 
 
 Vw. There is a fair behavior in thee, captain ; 
 And though that nature with a beauteous wall 
 Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
 I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits 
 With this thy fiir and outward character. 
 I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, 
 Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid 
 For such disguise as. haply, shall become 
 The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ; 
 Thou shalt present nic as a eunuch to him : 
 It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing. 
 And speak to him in many sorts of music, 
 That will allow me very worth his service. 
 What else may hap, to time I will commit ; 
 Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. 
 
 Cap. Be you his eunuch, and I your mute will be : 
 When my tongue blabs, let mine eyes not see! 
 
 Via. I thank thee, lead me on. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— A Room in Olivia's House. 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Marta. 
 
 Sir To. What a plague means my neice, to take 
 the death of her brother thus ? I am sure care's an 
 enemy to life. 
 
 Mar. By troth, sir Toby, you must come in ear- 
 lier o' nights; your cousin, my lady, takes great 
 exceptions to your ill hours. 
 
 Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted. 
 
 Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself withm 
 the modest limits of order. 
 
 Sir To. Confine! Ill confine myself no finer 
 than I am : these clothes are good enough to drink 
 in, and so be these boots too ; an they be not, let 
 them hang themselves in their own straps. 
 
 Mar. That quailing and drinking will undo you . 
 I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a 
 foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, 
 to be her wooer. 
 
 Sir To- Whol Sir Andrew Ague-cheek 7 
 
 Mar. Ay, he. 
 
 Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. 
 
 Mar. What's that to the purpose * 
 
 Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a 
 year. 
 
 il/or. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these 
 ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. 
 
 Sir To. Fye, that you'll .say so! he plays o' the 
 viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages 
 word for word without book, and liath all the good 
 gifts of nature. 
 
 Mar. He hath, indeed, — almost natural: for, 
 besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreler; and 
 but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the 
 gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the 
 prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave. 
 
 Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and 
 substractors, that say so of him. Who are they '.' 
 
 Mar. They that add moreover, lic'sdrunk nightly 
 in your company 
 
 Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll 
 drink to her, as long as there's a passage in my 
 throat, and drink in Illyria: He's a coward, and u 
 
 C'^ystril,' that will not drink to my neice, till his 
 brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, 
 wench 1 Castiliano vulgo; for here comes sir An- 
 drew .\gue-face. 
 
 Enter Sir Awdrk'w Aguf.-cheek. 
 
 Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby 
 Belch 1 
 
 Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew! 
 
 Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. 
 
 Mar. And you too, sir- 
 
 Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. 
 
 Sir And. What's that! 
 
 Sir To. My neice's chamber-maid. 
 
 Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Mar. My name is Mary. sir. 
 
 Sir And. Good mistress M,ary Accost, 
 
 Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost is, front 
 her, board her, woo her, assail her. 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake 
 her in this company. Is that the meaning of ac- 
 cost 1 
 
 Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. 
 
 Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, would 
 thou miglitst never draw sword a^gain. 
 
 Sir And. And you part so, mistress, I would I 
 might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do^ou 
 think you have fools in hand? 
 
 Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and here's 
 my hand. 
 
 Mar. Now, sir. thought is free: I pray you bring 
 your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. 
 
 Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your 
 metaphor'! 
 
 Mar. It's dry. sir. 
 
 Sir And. ^Vhy, I think so ; T am not such an ass, 
 but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your 
 jest! 
 
 Mar. A dry jest, sir. 
 
 .Sir And. Are you full of them? 
 
 Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers' ends: 
 marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. 
 
 [Exit Maria. 
 
 Sir To. knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary : 
 When did I see tliee so put down ? 
 
 Sir And. Never in your life, I think; unless you 
 see canary put me down : Methinks, sometimes I 
 liave no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary 
 man has: but I am a greater cater of beef, and, I 
 believe, that docs harm to my wit. 
 
 Sir To. No question. 
 
 Sir And. \n 1 thought that. I'd forswear it. 
 rii ride home to morrow, sir Toby. 
 
 Sir To. Ponrquioi, my dear knight? 
 
 Sir And. What is paarqaoij? do or not do? I 
 would 1 had bestowed that time in the tongues, tliat 
 I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting ; 0, 
 had I but followed the arts! 
 
 .Sir To. Then hadst thou an excellent head of 
 
 .Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair? 
 
 Sir To. Past'question ; for thou seest, it will not 
 curl by nature. 
 
 Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't 
 not? 
 
 .Sir To. F.xcellent; it hangs like fiax on a dis- 
 taff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee be- 
 tween her legs, and spin it off. 
 
 Sir And. 'Faith. I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby: 
 your niece will not he seen; or, if she be, it's four 
 to one she'll none of me : the count, himself, hero 
 hard by, woos her. 
 
 Sir To. She'll none of the count; she'll not 
 match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor 
 wit; I have heard her swear it. Tut, tliere's life 
 in't, man. 
 
 •Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fel- 
 low o' the strangest mind in the world; I delight 
 in masques and revels sometimes altogether. 
 
 Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, 
 knight? 
 
 Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he 
 be. under the degree of my betters; and yet I will 
 not compare with an old man. 
 
 Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, 
 knight? 
 
 » Keystril, a bastard hawk. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 OR. WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Co 
 
 Sir And. 'Faitli, I can cut a caper. 
 
 Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't. 
 
 Sir And, And,! think, I have tlio back-trick, 
 simply as strong as any man in Illyria. 
 
 Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid! where- 
 fore liave these gifts a curtain before them? are 
 they hke to take dust, Jike mistress Mall's picture? 
 Wliy dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and 
 come home m a coranto'! My very walk should be 
 a jig ; I would not so much as make water, but in 
 a sink-a-pace.* What dost thou mean ? is it a 
 world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the ex- 
 cellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under 
 the star of a galliard. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent 
 well in a tlame-colored stock.a Shall we set about 
 B5me revels ? 
 
 Sir To- What shall we do else? were we not 
 born under Taurus? 
 
 Sir And. Taurus ! that's sides and heart 
 
 Sir To. No.sir: it is legs and thighs. Let me see 
 thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! — excellent! 
 
 [Exeutit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Room in the Duke's Palace. 
 
 Enter Valentijte ami Viola in man^s attire. 
 
 Vat. If the duke continue these favors towards 
 you, Cesario, you arc like to be much advanced; 
 he hath known you but three days, and already you 
 are no stranger. 
 
 Viti. Vou either fear his humor, or my negligence, 
 that you call in question the continuance of his 
 love : Is he inconstant, sir, in his favors ? 
 
 Val. No, believe nic. 
 
 Enter Duke, Cuiiio, and Attendants. 
 
 Fio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
 
 Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? 
 
 Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here. 
 
 Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. — Cesario, 
 Tho\i know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd 
 To thee the book even of my secret soul: 
 Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; 
 lie not deny'd access, stand at her doors. 
 And tell them, there thy rtxed foot shall grow, 
 Till thou have audience. 
 
 Vin. Sure, my noble lord, 
 
 If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow 
 As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 
 
 Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds, 
 Rather than make unprotited return. 
 
 Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord : What 
 then? 
 
 Duke. O. then unfold the passion of my love, 
 Kurnfisn Jier with discourse of my dear taith : 
 It shall become thee well to act ray woes; 
 She will attend it better in thy youth, 
 Than in a nuncio of grave aspect. 
 
 Vio. I think not so, my lord. 
 
 Dnke. Dear lad, believe it; 
 
 For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
 That say, thou art a man : Diana's lip 
 Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe 
 Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound. 
 And all its semblative a woman's part. 
 I know, thy coustellation is right apt 
 For this alfair: — Some four, or five, attend liim ; 
 All, if you will; for 1 myself am best, 
 When least in company : — Prosper well in this, 
 And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord. 
 To call his fortunes thine. 
 
 Vin. I'll do my best 
 
 To woo your lady : yet, \ Aside.] a barful* strife ! 
 Who'cr I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— A Room in Olivia's House. 
 Enter M^niA. and Clown. 
 
 Mor. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, 
 or I will not opeu my lips so wide as a bristle may 
 enter, in way of thy e,vcuse: my lady will hang 
 thee for thy absence. 
 
 Clo. Let her hang me : he, that is well-hanged 
 in this world, needs to fear no colors. 
 
 Mor. Make that good. 
 
 Clo. He shall see none to fear. 
 9 Cinqiif-pace, the name of a danoe. s Stocking. 
 « Full of impediments. 
 
 Mar. A good lentcn' answer: I can tell thee 
 where that .saying was born, of, I fear no colors. 
 
 Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? 
 
 Mar. In the wars; and that may you be bold to 
 say in your foolery. 
 
 Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it; 
 and those that are fools, let them use their talents. 
 
 Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long 
 absent : or, be turned away ; is not that as good as 
 a hanging to you ? 
 
 Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- 
 riage ; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. 
 
 Mar. \ ou are resolute then ! 
 
 Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two 
 points. 
 
 Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold ; or, 
 if both break, your gaskins fall. 
 
 Clo. Apt. in good faith ; very apt! Well, go thy 
 way; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert 
 as witty a piece of Eve's lle.sh as any in Illyria. 
 
 Mar, Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here 
 comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you 
 were best. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Olivia, and Malvolio. 
 
 Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good 
 fooling! Tho.se wits, that think they have thee, do 
 very oft prove fools; and 1, that am sure I lack 
 thee, may pass for a wise man : For what says 
 Quinapalus ! Better a witty fool, than a foolish 
 wit. (^od bless thee, lady ! 
 
 Oli. Take the fool away. 
 
 Clo. Doyou not hear, lijlluws? Tate away the 
 lady. 
 
 on. Go to, you're a dry fool : I'll no more of you : 
 besides, you grow dishonest. 
 
 Clo. Two faults, madonna,' that drink and good 
 counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, 
 then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man 
 mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishone.--t; 
 if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: any thing, 
 that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that trans- 
 gresses, is but patched with sin; and sin, that 
 amends, is but patched with virtue: if that this 
 simple syllogism will serve, so ; if it will not, what 
 remedy l As there is no true cuckold but caiainilv, 
 so beauty's a llowcr: — the lady bade take away 
 the fool ; therefore, 1 say again, take her away. 
 
 O'i, Sir, I bade them take away you. 
 
 Clo. Misprision in the highest degree! — I.ndy, 
 Ctictt lilts 71071 facit monarhuni ; that's .as much as 
 to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good ma- 
 donna, give me leave to prove you a fool. 
 
 Oli. Can you do it? 
 
 Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. 
 
 Oli. Make your proof. 
 
 Clo. I must catecliise you for it, madonna ; good 
 my mouse of virtue, answer me. 
 
 'OIL WeII,sir,for want of other idleness, 111 'bide 
 your proof. 
 
 Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou? 
 
 Oli. (uind fool, for my brother's death. 
 
 Clo. 1 think his soul is in hell, madonna. 
 
 Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 
 
 Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for 
 your brother's soul being in heaven. — Take away 
 the fool, gentlemen. 
 
 Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth 
 he not mend? 
 
 Mat. Yes: and shall do, till the pangs of death 
 shake him. Infirmity, that decays the wise, dotii 
 ever make the better fool. 
 
 Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for 
 the better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby w'ill be 
 sworn, that 1 am no fox; but he will not pass his 
 word for two-pence that you are no fool. 
 
 O'i. ilow say you to that. iVlalvolio ? 
 
 Mill. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in 
 such a barren rascal; I saw him put down the other 
 day with an ordinary fool, that lias no more brain 
 than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard 
 already: unless you laugh and minister occasion 
 to him, he's gagged. I protest. I take these wise 
 men. that crow so at these set kind of fools, no bet- 
 ter than the fools' ziinies.' 
 
 OH. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and 
 
 » Shnrt and spare. « Jlalian, mistrofls, dame. 
 
 1 Fools* baubles. 
 
66 
 
 TWELFTH ISJIGHT: 
 
 Act I. 
 
 taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, 
 guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those 
 thin;j,s for bird-bolts," that you deem cannon-bul- 
 lets: There is no slander in an allowed fool, though 
 lie do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known 
 discreet mani though he do nothing but reprove. 
 
 Clu. Kow Mercury endue thee with leasing,' for 
 tlioii speakest well of fools. 
 
 Re-cnier Mauia. 
 Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young geii- 
 tloinan, much desires to speak with you. 
 Oil. From the count Orsino, is it? , 
 Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man 
 and well attended. 
 O/l. Who of my people hold him m delay i 
 l\!ar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. 
 on. Fetch hiin olf, 1 pray yon; he speaks noth- 
 ing but madman: Kye on liim ! [Kxil iMauia.] Go 
 you, Malvolio; if it be a suit from the count, I am 
 sick or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. 
 [Exit Malvolio.] ^ow you see, sir, how your 
 fooling grows old, and people dislike it. 
 
 Clii. Thou hast spoke lotus, madonna, as if thy 
 eldest son should be a fool : whose skulljove cram 
 with brains, for here comes one of thy km, has a 
 most weak pia iiiatcr.^ 
 
 Enter Sir Tout Bklcii. 
 OH. Dy mine honor, half drunk. — What is he 
 at the gate, cousin'! 
 Sir To. A gentleman. 
 Oii. A gentleman! What gentleman 7 
 Sir To 'Tisa gentleman here — A plague o these 
 pickle-herrings'. — How now, sot. 
 
 do. Good sir Toby, 
 
 O.i. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early 
 by this lethargy 1 , , . 
 
 .Sir Tu. Lechery ! I defy lechery : there's one at 
 the gate. , . • , , 
 
 Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he ! 
 Sir To. Let liim be the devil, an he will, I care 
 not: give me faitli, say 1. Well, its all one. [£.£'(• 
 Oii. What's a drunken man like, tool ! 
 Clo. Like a drowu'd man, a fool, and a madman : 
 one draught above heat makes him a loot ; the sec- 
 ond mads him; and a third drowns liim. 
 
 on. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let nim 
 sit o' my coz; for he's in tlie third degree of drink, 
 he's drown'd : go, look after him. . .. , , 
 
 Clu. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the tool 
 shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Ru-enter Malvolio. 
 Mai. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will 
 speak with you. 1 told him you were sick; he 
 takes on him to understand so inucli, and therefore 
 comes to speak with you: I told him you were 
 asleep : be seems tu have a fore-knowledge ot that 
 too, and tlierefore comes to speak with you. What 
 is to be said to him, lady i. he's fortified against any 
 denial. , . , 
 
 Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. 
 Mai. He has been told so; and he says, hell 
 stand at your door like a sheritl's post, and be the 
 supporter of a bencli, but he'll speak witli jou. 
 OH. Vv'hat kind of a man is he • 
 Mul. Why, of mankind. 
 Oli. What manner orman7 
 Mai. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, 
 will you, or no. • , i 
 
 Oi'i. I if what personage, and years, is he ! 
 /./(/'. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young 
 enou'^h for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- 
 cod or a codhng when 'tis almost an apple; tis 
 with him een standing water, between lioy and 
 man. He is very well favored, and he speaks very 
 shrewishly ; one would think, his mother's milK 
 were scarce out of him. 
 
 0:i. Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman. 
 Mai. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Mauia. 
 Oli. Give me iny veil: come, throw it o'er my 
 face; 
 We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. 
 Enter Viola. 
 Via. The honourable lady of the house, which is 
 sbel 
 •Short arrows. • Lying. ■ The cover of the train. 
 
 wi 
 
 Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your 
 ill ! 
 
 Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatcliable 
 bcauly,— I pray you, tell me, if this he the lady of 
 the house, for 1 never saw her: 1 would be loth to 
 cast away my speech ; for, besides tliat it is excel- 
 lently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con 
 it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn: I am 
 very coinptible,^ even to the least sinister usage. 
 Oli. Whence came you, sir ! 
 Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, 
 and that question's out of my part. Good gentle 
 one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady 
 of the house, that 1 may proceed in my speech. 
 0/i. Are you a comedian 1 
 
 Vin. Ko, my prolbund heart: and yet, by the 
 very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. 
 .\re you the lady of the house .' 
 
 Oil. If I do not usurp myself, I am. 
 Vii). Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp 
 yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours 
 to reserve. But this is from my commission: I 
 will on with my speech in your praise, and then 
 sliow you the heart of my message. 
 
 OH. Come to what is important in't: I forgive 
 you the praise. , . ^ .^. 
 
 I'ii). Alas, 1 took great pains to study it, and tis 
 poetical. . ^ . , , 
 
 Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray 
 you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my 
 gates; and allowed your approach, rather to won- 
 der at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, 
 be "One; if you have reason, be brief; 'tis not that 
 tim"e of moon with me, to make one in so skipping 
 a dialogue. ., . , , 
 
 Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir 1 here lies your way. 
 I'io. No, good swabber ; I am to hull liere a little 
 longer.— Some moUification for your giant," sweet 
 lady. . J 
 
 on. Tell me your mind. 
 I'io. I am a messenger. .... 
 
 Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- 
 liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak 
 your ortice. . 
 
 Via. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no 
 overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the 
 olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as 
 Tin ttcr 
 
 Oil. Yet you began rudely. What are you 7 
 what would you 7 
 
 Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear d m me, 
 have I learn'd from mv entertainment. W hat I am, 
 and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to 
 your ears, divinity ; to any other's, profanation. 
 
 Oli Give us the place alone: we will liear tins 
 divinity. [Exit Mi.uii.] Kow, sir, what 19» your 
 text 7 
 
 I'io. Most sweet lady, 
 
 on. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bo 
 said of it. Where lies your text ! 
 Vio. In Orsino's bosom. 
 
 Oli. In his bosom 7 In what chapter of his bosom ! 
 I'io. To answer by the method, in tlie first of his 
 
 Oli. 0, 1 have read it ; it is heresy. Have you no 
 more to say ! . 
 
 I-'io. Good madam, let me see your face. 
 
 Oli Have you any commission from j our lord to 
 negot'iate with my face 7 you arc now out of your 
 text • but we will draw the curtain, and show you 
 the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was 
 this present:' Is't not well done 7 [Unveiling. 
 
 Vio. F.xcellently done, ifGod didnll. 
 
 on. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wmd and 
 
 I'io. 'Tis beauty truly blent.whose red and white 
 Nature's own swe'et and cunning hand laid on : 
 Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, 
 If you will lead these graces to the grave, 
 And leave the world no copy. , ^ , .,,-11 
 
 on. 0, sir, I will not be so bard-liearted; I will 
 .'ive out divers schedules of my beauty : It shall be 
 inventoried; and every particle, and utcnsd, la- 
 belled to invwill: as, item, two lips indillcrent 
 red ; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item, 
 
 a Accountable. ,.,.,*,* *»._ 
 
 sit appears from several parts of this play that tho 
 original Rctrosn of Maria was very short. 
 » Tresents. 
 
Act II. ScEXE II. 
 
 OR, WHAT .YOU WILL. 
 
 07 
 
 one nei-Iv, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent 
 hither to 'pr.iise me ] 
 
 Vu}. I see you what you are; you are too proud; 
 But, if you were tile devil, you are fair. 
 My lord and master loves you ; (), such love 
 Could be but rccompensM, thouijh you were crown'd 
 The nonpareil of teauty ! 
 
 Oii. How does he love me 1 
 
 Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, 
 With groans that thunder love, with sighs of tire. 
 
 Oli. Your lord does know my mind, 1 cannot 
 love him : 
 Yet I suppose hirn virtuous, know him noble, 
 nf great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; 
 In voices well divulg'd,* free, learn'd, and valiant. 
 And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, 
 A gracious person ; but yet I caunot love him; 
 He mii^ht have took his answer long ago. 
 
 Vtii. If I did love you in my masters flame, 
 With such sutfering, such a deadly life, 
 In your denial I would lind no sense, 
 I would not understand it. 
 
 OIL Why, what would you! 
 
 Vio. Make me a wiUow cabin at ynnr gate. 
 And call upon my soul within the house 
 Write loyal caiitonss of contemned love. 
 And sing them loud even in the dead of niglit; 
 Holla your name to the reverberate hills. 
 And make the babbling gossip of the air 
 Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest 
 Between the elements of air and earth. 
 But you should pity me. 
 
 Oli. You miglit do much: What is your paren- 
 tage ! 
 
 Vi/}. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: 
 I am a gentleman. 
 
 OIL Get you to your lord ; 
 
 I cannot love him : let him send no more ; 
 Unless, perchance, you come to me again. 
 To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: 
 I thank you for your pains; spend this for me. 
 
 Vio. I am no feed post, lady; keep your purse; 
 My master, not my.seli', lacks recompense. 
 Love make liis heart of flint, that you shall love ; 
 And let your fervor, like my master's, be 
 Piac'd 111 contempt ! Farewell. lair cruelty. [Exit. 
 
 OH. What is your parentage^ 
 Above mil fortunes, ijil tui/ state is ivell : 
 I am a gentleman. — 111 be sworn thou art; 
 Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, action.s, and spirit, 
 Do give thee hvc-fold blazon: — Not too fast: — 
 
 soft! soft! 
 Unless the master were the man. — How now I 
 Even so quickly may one catch the plague 2 
 Methinks, I foci this youths perfections, 
 With an invisible and subtle stealth, 
 To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. — 
 What, ho, Malvolio! — 
 
 Re-enter M.itvoLio. 
 
 Mai. Here, madam, at your service. 
 
 Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, 
 The county's man : he loft this ring behind him, 
 Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it. 
 Desire him not to flatter with his lord. 
 Nor hold him up with hopes ; 1 am not for him. 
 If that the yoiitli will come this way to morrow, 
 I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. Madam, I will. [KxU. 
 
 Oli. I do I know not what: and fear to find 
 Mine eye too creat a flatterer for my mind. 
 Fate, show thy force: Ourselves we do not 
 
 owe:"* 
 What is decreed, must be ; and be this so ! [Exit 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Sea-coast. 
 Enter A^Toyio and Sebastian'. 
 
 Ant. Will you stay no longer 1 nor will you not, 
 that I go with you ? 
 
 Seh. By your patience, no: mv stars shine darkly 
 over me ; the malignancy of my fate miglit, per- 
 haps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of 
 you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: It 
 were a bid recompense for your love, to lay any of 
 them on you. 
 
 Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are 
 bound. 
 
 Sell. No, 'sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is 
 mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex- 
 cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort 
 from me what I am willing to keep in; tlieretbre it 
 charges me in manners the rather to express myself 
 You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is 
 Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo: My latiier was 
 that Sebastian of Messaline, whom, 1 know, you 
 have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a 
 sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had 
 been nieas d, would we had so ended ! but you. sir, 
 alter a that : for, some hour before you took me 
 from the lireach of the sea, was my sister drowned. 
 
 Anf. Alas, the day! 
 
 Sell. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re- 
 sembled me, was yet of many accounted beaiitil'ul : 
 but, though I could not, witli such estimable won- 
 der, ovcrfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly 
 puMish her, she bore a mind that envy could not 
 but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt 
 water, though I seem to drown her remembrance 
 again with more. 
 
 Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. 
 
 Seb, O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. 
 
 Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let 
 me be your servant. 
 
 Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, 
 * W«U spoken of by the world. 
 6 Cantops, versi's. 
 
 that is, kill him wliom you have recovered, desire 
 it not. Fare yc well at once: my bosom is full of 
 kindness; and I am yet so near the manners of my 
 mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine 
 eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count 
 Orsino's court: farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with tiiee : 
 I have many enemies in Orsino's court. 
 Else would I very shortly see tliee there : 
 lint come what liiay, I do adore thee so. 
 That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— .i Street. 
 
 Enter Viola; MxLyoi.10 folloicing. 
 
 MiL Were not you even now with the countess 
 Olivia? 
 
 Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have 
 since arrived but hither. 
 
 Mai. She returns this ring to you, sir; you 
 might have saved me many pains, to have taken it 
 away j'ourself. She adds, moreover, that you should 
 put your lord into a desperate assurance she will 
 none of him: And one thing more; that you be 
 never so hardy to come again in hisalTairs, unless 
 it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive 
 it so, 
 
 Vio. She took the ring of me ; I'll none of it. 
 
 Mai- Come.sir, you peevishly threw it to her ; and 
 her will is, it should be so returned : if it be worth 
 stooping for, there it lies in your eye ; if not, be it 
 his that finds it. [Exit. 
 
 Vio. I left no ring with her : What means tliis 
 lady ! 
 Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her ! 
 She made a good view of me; indeed, so much. 
 That sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue. 
 For she did speak in starts distractedly- 
 She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion 
 Invites me in this churlish messenger. 
 None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. 
 ' Own, possess. 
 
68 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT: 
 
 Act II. 
 
 1 am tlie rajii; — If it be so, (as 'tis,) 
 
 Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
 
 Disguise, 1 see, thou art a wicliedne^s. 
 
 Wherein the pregnant" enemy does much. 
 
 How easy is it, liir the proper-false 
 
 In women's waxen hearts to set tlieir forms! 
 
 AJas, our frailly is the cause, not we ; 
 
 For, such as we arc made of, such we be. 
 
 How will this fad^e ?» xVly master loves her dearly ; 
 
 And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ; 
 
 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me; 
 
 What will become of thisl As 1 am man, 
 
 My state is desperate for my master's love; 
 
 As 1 am woman, now alas the day ! 
 
 What tlinftless sighs sliall poor Olivia breathe ! 
 
 O tunc, tliou mu»t unlangle this, not 1 ; 
 
 It 111 too hard a knot for me to untie. [Exit* 
 
 SCENE III. — A Room in Olivia's House. 
 Enter Sir Toby Uelcii, and Sir Andrew Ague- 
 
 CUEKK. 
 
 Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be a-bed 
 after midniglit, IS to be up betimes; and diluculo 
 siirgere, tliou know'st, 
 
 Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I 
 know, to be up late, is lo be up late. 
 
 Sir To. A lalse conclusion ; 1 hate it as an un- 
 filled can : I'o be up after midnight, and to go to 
 bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed alter mid- 
 night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our hves 
 consist of the four elements ! 
 
 Sir And. 'i'aith, so they say; but, I think, it 
 ratlier consists of eating and drinking. 
 
 Sir To. Xhou art a scliolar; let us therefore eat 
 and drink.— Maria, 1 say! — a stoop of wine! 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Sir And. Here comes tlie fool. 
 
 Cto. How now, my hearts ! Did you never see 
 the picture of we three 1' 
 
 Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's liave a catch. 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, the tool has an excellent 
 breast." 1 had ratlier than tbrty sliillmgs 1 liad 
 such a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the 
 ihol has. In south, tliou wast m very gracious fool- 
 ing last night, when tliou spokest ol I'igrogroinitus, 
 of the Vapi'aiis passing, the equinoctial of t^ueubus; 
 'twas very good, 'i faiiii. I sent thee sixpence for 
 thy leman :' hadst it ! 
 
 Cto. 1 did iinpeticos thy gratilhty ;* for Malvo- 
 lios nose IS no whipstocK: my lady has a white 
 hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. 
 
 Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool- 
 ing, when all is done. Now, a song. 
 
 Sir To. Come on; there is a sixpence for you; 
 let's have a song. 
 
 Sir And. 1 here's a testril of me too; if one 
 knight give a 
 
 t'to. Would you have a love-song, or a song of 
 good lite ! 
 
 Siir To. A love-song, a love-song. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, ay ; 1 care not lor good life. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
 O xlmi and liear ; i/our true love's coming, 
 
 That can sing botli Aig/i and tow : 
 Trip no/urtlicr, ]>re:tij sweeting ; 
 Journcijs end in tovers' meeting. 
 Every wise man's son dutti know. 
 Sir And. Excellent good, i' I'aith! 
 Sir To. Good, good. 
 Clo. Wtwl is tore '? 'lis not hereafter ; 
 Trcsent mirth tiuthprcsenl taugliter ; 
 
 Wluil's to come, w stilt unsure: 
 In delay ttiere tits no pienty ; 
 Then come 1,'L^s me, siveet-and-twenty. 
 Youths a stiijl'will nut endure. 
 Sir And. A mcllilluous voice, as I am truekniglit. 
 Sir To. A contagious breath. . , . , 
 
 Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. 
 Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con- 
 tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance in- 
 deed 1 Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that 
 VTill draw three souls out of one weaver ! Shall we 
 do that 1 
 
 ■ Dexterous, n-ady. • Suit. 
 
 • Lotriirlii-iuls In--, a Voice. •Mistress. 
 
 • 1 did inipeticoat thy gratuity. 
 
 Sir And. An you love me, let's do't; I am dog at 
 a catch. 
 
 Cto. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well 
 
 Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou 
 knave. 
 
 Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, km^htl I shall 
 be constrain'd in t to call thee knave, kniglit. 
 
 Sir And. 'Tis not the first time 1 have constrain'd 
 one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, HoW 
 thy peace. 
 
 Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. 
 
 Sir And. Good, i' faith! Come, begin. 
 
 [They sing a catch. 
 
 Enter Mabia. 
 
 Mar. W' hat a caterwauling do you keep here ! If 
 my lady have not caUed up her steward, Malvolio, 
 and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. 
 
 Sir To. My lady's Catalan,' we are politicians: 
 Malvolio's a Peg-a-Uamsey,« and Thn e merry men 
 we be. Am not 1 consanguineous 1 am 1 not of 
 her blood ! 'Tihy-valley,' lady ! TItere dwelt a man 
 in Babylon, lady, lady ! [Singing. 
 
 Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fool- 
 ing. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, lie does well enough, if he be dis- 
 posed, and so do I too ; he does it with a better 
 grace, but 1 do it more natural. 
 
 Sir To. O the twelfth day of December,— [Sing- 
 ing. 
 
 Mar. For the love of God, peace. 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mat. My masters, are you mad ? or what are 
 you ! Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but 
 to gabble like tinkers at this time of night ! do ye 
 make an ale-house of my lady's house, that ye 
 squeak out your coziers'" catches without any mit- 
 igation or remorse of voice"! Is there no respect of 
 place, persons.nor time, in you"! 
 
 Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. 
 Sncck up!' 
 
 Mat. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My 
 lady bade me tell you, that, ihougli she harbors you 
 as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disor- 
 ders. If you can separate yourself and yourmisde- 
 meanors, you arc welcome to the house ; if not, an 
 It would please you to take leave of her, she is very 
 willing to bid you farewell. 
 
 Sir To. Farewell,deur heart, since I must needs 
 be gone. 
 
 Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. 
 
 Clo. Hi* eyes do show his days are almost done. 
 
 Mat. 1st even so! 
 
 Sir To. But I will mver die. 
 
 Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. 
 
 Mat. This is much credit to you. 
 
 Sir To. Shall I bill him go ? [Singing. 
 
 Clo. IVhat an if you do? 
 
 Sir To. Sliull I bid him go, and spare not .^ 
 
 Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. 
 
 Sir To. Out o lime '. sir, ye he. — Art any more 
 than a steward ! Dost thou Ihink, because thou art 
 virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ! 
 
 Cto. Yes, by saint Anne ; and ginger shall be 
 hot i' the mouth too. 
 
 Sir To. Thou'rt i' the right.— Go, sir. rub your 
 chain with cruras: — A stoop of wine, Maria! 
 
 Mai. Mistress Mary, if you prized nn lady's 
 favor at any thing more than contempt, you «ouid 
 not give means for this uncivil rule ; she shall know 
 of it, by this liand. t 
 
 Mar. Go shake your ears. . j ■ , 
 
 Sir ind. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink 
 wlien a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the 
 lield ; and then lo break promise with him, and 
 make a fool of him. . , , „ 
 
 .Sir To. Do t, knight; I'll write tliec a challenge; 
 or I'll deliver my uidignation to him by wcrd of 
 
 mouth. ...... • 1 « 
 
 I\Iar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night; 
 since the youth of the count's was to-day with my 
 lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Mal- 
 volio, let me alone with him: if I do not guh him 
 into a nay-word,' and make him a common recrea- 
 tion, do not think 1 have wit enough lo he straight 
 in my bed: 1 know I can do it. 
 
 • Romancer. eXamc of an old song. 
 
 1 Equivalent i.0 fill y-f ally, sliUly^sUalty. 
 
 s Cobblers. « Hang yourself. i liyc-ivord. 
 
SCEKE IV. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 C9 
 
 • Sir Tu. Possess us,' possess us ; tell us something 
 of him. 
 
 M'lr. Marrj', .=!ir, sometimes he is a Idnd of Puritan. 
 
 Sir And. 6, 11' I tliouslit that, Id beat him hke a 
 doj. 
 
 Sir To. What, for being a Puritan] thy exquisite 
 reason, dear kuij^ht f 
 
 Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't,but I 
 have reason good enough. 
 
 Mur. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing 
 constantly but a timc-pleaser; an affectioned ass, 
 that cons state without book, and utters it by great 
 swarths;' tlie best persuaded of himself, so cram- 
 med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his 
 ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love him ; 
 and on that vice in him will my revenue find notable 
 cause to work. 
 
 Sir To. Wliat wilt thou do 1 
 
 Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles 
 of love; wherein by tliecolorof his beard, the shape 
 of his leg, tlie manner of his gait, the expressure 
 of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he sliall find 
 himself most feelingly personated; I can write very 
 like my lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter we 
 can hardly make distinction of our hands. 
 
 Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device. 
 
 Sir Anil. I have't in my nose too. 
 
 Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou 
 wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that 
 slie is in love with him. 
 
 Mar. My purpose is. indeed, a horse of that color. 
 
 Sir And. And your horse now would make him 
 an a.ss. 
 
 3Iar. Ass, I doubt not. 
 
 Sir And. C), 'twill be admirable. 
 
 Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you : I know, my 
 physic will work with him. I will plant you two, 
 and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the 
 letter; observe his construction of it. For tliis night, 
 to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea.* 
 
 Sir And. Belure ine, she's a good wench. 
 
 Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that 
 adores me: Whato'that! 
 
 Sir And. I was adored once too- 
 
 Sir To. Lets to bed, knight. — Thou hadst need 
 send for more money. 
 
 Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a 
 foul way out. 
 
 Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her, 
 not i' the end, caU me Cut.' 
 
 Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how 
 you will. 
 
 Sir To. Come, come ; I'll go bum some sack, 'tis 
 too late to go to bed now : come, knight ; come, 
 knight. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — A Room in the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Duke, Viola, Cunio, and others. 
 
 Duke. Give me some music: — Now, good mor- 
 row, friends: — 
 ■Now, good Cesirio, but that piece of song, 
 That old and antique song we heard last nigiit; 
 Methought. it did relieve my passion much ; 
 More than light airs and recollected tenns 
 
 Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: 
 
 Come, but one verse. 
 
 Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, 
 that should sing it. 
 
 Duke. Wlio was it! 
 
 Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord ; a fool, that the 
 lady Olivia's father took much delight in; he is 
 about ttie house. 
 
 Duke. Seek him out, and playthetune the while. 
 [ExU Cnuio. — Music. 
 Come hither, boy : If ever thou shall love. 
 In the sweet pangs of it, remember me : 
 For, such as 1 am. all true lovers are ; 
 Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. 
 Save, in that constant image of the creature 
 That is belov'd. — How dost thou like this tune1 
 
 Fio. It gives a very echo to the seat 
 ■Where love is thron'cl. 
 
 Duke. Thou dost speak masterly: 
 My life upon't, young tliough thou art, thine eye 
 5 Inform u3. > The row of grass left by a mower. 
 
 *AmazoD ' Fool, 
 
 Hath stay'd upon some favor that it loves; 
 Hath it not, boy ! 
 
 Viji. A little, by your favor. 
 
 DuJce. What kind of woman is'tl 
 
 Vio. Of your complexion. 
 
 Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, 
 i'faithi 
 
 Vio. A bout your years, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman 
 take 
 An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
 So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
 For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
 Our fancies are more giddy and infirm. 
 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn. 
 Than woman's are. 
 
 Vio. I think it well, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself. 
 Or thy all'ection cannot hold the bent : 
 For women are as roses; whose fair rtower. 
 Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. 
 
 Vin. And so tliey are; alas, that they are so; 
 To die, even when they to perfection grow ! 
 
 Re-enfer Cunio nyid Clowx. 
 Duke. O, fellow, come, the son^ we had last 
 night : — 
 Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain: 
 The spinsters and the knitters in the sun. 
 And the free maids that weave their thread with 
 
 bones. 
 Do use to chaiint it ; it is silly sooth,* 
 And dallies with the innocence of love. 
 Like the old age. 
 CV". Are you ready, sir T 
 
 Duke. Ay ; prythee, sing [Music. 
 
 SONG. 
 Clo. Come away, come away, death. 
 And in sad cypress let me be laid; 
 
 Fly away, fly away, breath; 
 I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
 My shroud of wliile, stuck all with yew, 
 
 0, prepare it ; 
 My part of death, no one so true 
 Di'l share it. 
 Not ajlnwir, }iot a flower stueet. 
 On my /dark niflin let there be strotvn ; 
 Not a friend, not a friend greet 
 My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown • 
 A thousand ttumsand sigh£ to save, 
 
 Lay me, O ivhere 
 Sad true lover ne'er find my grave. 
 
 To weep there. 
 Duke. There's for thy pains. 
 CUi. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. 
 Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure, then. 
 Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one 
 time or another. 
 Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 
 Clo. Now, the melancholy go.l protect thee; and 
 the tailor make thy doublet of ibangeable tafl'eta, 
 for thy mind is a very opal. — 1 w >uld have men of 
 such constancy put to sea, tliat their business miglit 
 be every tiling, and their intent everywhere; for 
 that's it, tliat always makes a good voyage of no- 
 thing. — Farewell. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Duke. Let all the rest give place. 
 
 [Exeunt Cciiio and .Attendants 
 Once more, Cesario, 
 Get thee to yon" same sovereign cruelty : 
 Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, 
 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; 
 The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her. 
 Tell lier, I hold as giddily as fortune; 
 But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems. 
 That nature pranks'" her in, attracts my soul, 
 Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sirl 
 Duke. 1 cannot be so answer'd. 
 Vio. 'Soolh, but you must. 
 
 Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, 
 Hatli for your love as great a pang of heart 
 As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; 
 You tell her so ; Must she not then be answer'd] 
 
 Duke. There's no woman's sides 
 Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
 As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart 
 So big, to hold so much ; they lack retention. 
 6 Simple truth. ^ Decks. 
 
70 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT: 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, — 
 No motion of the liver, but the palate, — 
 That sufifer surfeit, cloyinent, and revolt; 
 But mine is all as hunj;ry as the sea, 
 And can digest as much: make no compare 
 Uetween that love a woman can bear nK, 
 And that I owe Olivia. 
 
 Vio. Ay, but I know, — 
 
 Duke. What dost thou know '. 
 
 Vio. Too well wliatiovc women to men may owe: 
 In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
 My thther had a daii;;htcr iov'd a man, 
 As it miglit be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
 I shnuld'your lordship. 
 
 Duke. And what's her history ? 
 
 Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, 
 Hut let concealment, like a worm i" tlie bud, 
 Kerd on Iier damask cheek : she pin'd in thous'ht: 
 And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
 She sat like patience on a monument. 
 Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? 
 Wc men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, 
 f)ur shows are more than will ; for still we prove 
 Much in our vows, but little in our hive. 
 
 Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy 7 
 
 Vio. I am all the daughters of my fatlicrs house, 
 And a!l the brothers too; — and yet I know not : — 
 Sir, shall I to this lady ! 
 
 Duke. Ay, that's the theme. 
 
 To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say. 
 My love can give no place, bide no denay.8 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Olivia's Garden, 
 
 Enter Sir Tobt Belch, Sir Andrew Ague- 
 cheek, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. 
 
 Fab. Nay, Fll come; if I lose a scruple of this 
 sport, let me be boiled to death with melanclioly. 
 
 Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the 
 niggardly rascally shcep-bitcr conie by some nota- 
 ble shame? 
 
 Fa'}. I would exult, man: you know, he brought 
 mc out of favor with my lady', ahout a bear-baiting 
 liere. 
 
 .S/> To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again ; 
 and we will fool him black and blue:— Shall we 
 not, sir Andrew? 
 
 Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. ^ 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Here comes the little villain: — How 
 now, my nettle of India ^ 
 
 Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvo- 
 lio's coming down this walk; he has been yonder 
 i' the sun, practising behavior to liis own shadow, 
 this half hour: observe him. for the love of mockery ; 
 for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative 
 idiot of him. Close, in tlie name of jesting! [T/te 
 men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [Ttirow-s 
 down a letter,] for here comes the trout Jhat must 
 be caught with tickling. [Exit Mauia. 
 
 &(/«" Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria 
 once told me, she did atTcct me: and I have heard 
 lierself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it 
 should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses 
 nie with a more exalted respect than any one else 
 th;it follows her. What should I think on't? 
 
 Sir To. Here's an overweeniuic rogue! 
 
 Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare 
 turkey-cock of him, how he jets^ under his ad- 
 vanced plumesi 
 
 N;> And. 'Slight. I could so beat the rogue: — 
 
 Sir To. Peace. I say. 
 
 Mai. To be count Malvolio; — 
 
 Sir To. Ah, rogue! 
 
 Sir And. Pistol him. pistol him. 
 
 .S)> To. Peace, peace! 
 
 Mai. There is example for't; the ladv of the 
 strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 
 
 .Sir And. Fie on him. .lezehel! 
 
 Fah. O, peace! now he's deeply in, look, how 
 imagination blows him. 
 
 Mai. Having been three montlis married to her, 
 fitting in my state.— 
 
 « Denial. 
 
 " Struts. 
 
 Sir To O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! 
 
 Alal. Calhng my orlicers about me. in my branch- 
 ed velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, 
 where 1 left Olivia sleeping. 
 
 .Sir To. Fire and brunstone! 
 
 Fab. 0, peace, peace ! 
 
 Mat. And then to have the liumor r»f state : and 
 after a demure travel of regard. — telling them, I 
 laiow my place, as I would they should do theij-s, — 
 to ask for my kinsman Tohy : 
 
 iSir To. Bolts and shackles! 
 
 Fab. O. peace, peace, peace! now. now. 
 
 Mai. Seven of my people, with an oI>edient start, 
 make out for him: I frown the while; and, per- 
 chance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich 
 jewel. Toby approaches; courlsies there to me: 
 
 Sir To. Shall this fellow live! 
 
 Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us -with 
 cars, yet peace. 
 
 Mai. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching 
 my l;^mihar smile with an austere regard of control: 
 
 Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o' 
 the lips then i 
 
 Mai. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes having 
 cast me on your neiec, give me tfiis p7'€rosative of 
 speech ■ — 
 
 Sir To. What, what? 
 
 Mai. You must amend your dnmkenness. 
 
 Sir To. Out, scab ! 
 
 Fah. Nay, patience, or we breal; the sinews of 
 our plot. 
 
 Mai. Besides, ynu zvaj^te the treasure of your 
 time irith a foolish knight : 
 
 Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. 
 
 Mai. One Sir Andrew.- 
 
 Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many do call me 
 fool. 
 
 Mai. Wh^t employment have we here? 
 
 [Takinfr up the tetter. 
 
 Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 
 
 Sir To. (^, peace! and the spirit of humors inti- 
 mate readini; aloud to him! 
 
 Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these 
 be her very C's, her f/'s. and her Ts, and thus makes 
 she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question 
 her hand. 
 
 Sir And. Her C's, her tTs, and her T's,: Why 
 that? 
 
 Mai. [Read,s.] To the unknonm ijeloved, this and 
 mi/goodwi.'<hes.- her very phrases! — By your leave, 
 wax. — Soft! — and the impressure lier Lucrece, 
 with which she uses to -seal: 'tis my lady: To 
 whom should this l)e ? 
 
 Fab. This wins him,hverand all. 
 
 Mai. iReads.] Jove knows, I love: 
 But luho ? 
 Lips do not inovBy 
 No man must know. 
 No man mu.%tknoxv. — What follows? the numbers* 
 altered! — No muJi must know : — If this should be 
 thee. Malvolio? 
 
 Sir To. Many, hang thee, brock !» 
 
 Mai. I may cnjumand, ichere I adore : 
 
 But silc?iee, like a Lucrecc knife. 
 With bloodless stroke my heart doth goic ; 
 M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life. 
 
 Fab. A fustian riddle! 
 
 Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. 
 
 Mat. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. — Nay, but 
 first let mc see. — let me see, — let me see. 
 
 Fab. What a dish of poison hath she dressed him ! 
 
 Sir To. And with wliat wing the stannyel^ 
 checks at it !3 
 
 Mill. I may com?nand ivhere I adm'C. Why, she 
 may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. 
 Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There 
 is no obstruction in this; — And the end, — What 
 should that alphabetical position portend? If I 
 could make that resemble something in me, — Soil- 
 Jy!-A/, 0,A,L~ 
 
 Sir To. 0, Ay ! make up that; — he is now at a 
 cold scent. 
 
 Fab. Sowter* will cry upon't for all this, though 
 it be as rank as a fox. 
 
 Mai. M, — Malvolio; — aV, — why, that begins my 
 name. 
 
 I BaJger. 
 
 a Hawk. 
 
 * Name of a hound. 
 
 » Flies at it. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 71 
 
 Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the 
 cur is excellent at t'.iults. 
 
 Mai. il/, — But then tlicre is no consonancy in 
 the sequel : that sutlers under probation : A should 
 follow, hut does. 
 
 Fall. And O shall end, I liope. 
 
 Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make liim 
 cry, O. 
 
 Mai. And then, Z comes behind; — 
 
 Fab. Ay, an you had an eye beliind you, you 
 might see more detiactiou at your heels, than for- 
 tunes betbre you. 
 
 Mai. M, 0, A, I; — This simulation is not as the 
 former —and yet, to crush this a little, it would 
 bow tc mc, for every one of these letters are in my 
 name. Soft, here follows prose: — Iflhlifall into 
 Hiij hand, revolve. In iin/ stars I am above -tliee ,- 
 but be not afraid of greatness : Some are born 
 great, some ac/iieve greatness, and some have great- 
 ness tlinisl upon Ihcm. Tliy J'oles open tfieir 
 hands; let titi/ tiloodandspirit embrace t/iem. And, 
 toinure iliyself to udiat tfiou art li!<e to be, cast thy 
 humble slough' and apttear fresh. Beopposife with 
 a kinsman, surli/ n-illi servants: let thy tongue 
 tang arguments' of state; put thyself into the trick 
 ofsingularity : slie thus advises thee, t/iat sighs for 
 thee. Remember lolm com mended thy yellow stock- 
 ings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered : I 
 say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if Ihou de- 
 sires! to be so : if twt, let me see tliee a steward still, 
 the fellow of servants, and not tvorthi/ to touch for- 
 tunes fingers. Farewell. She that would alter 
 services wit'i thee. The fortunate-unhappy. 
 
 Day-lisht and champian« discovers not mote; this 
 is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, 
 I wdl baffle Sir Toby, I will wa*h olf gross ac- 
 quaintance, I will be point-de-vice', the very man. 
 1 do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade 
 me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady 
 loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of 
 late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; 
 and in this she manifests herself to my love, and, 
 with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits 
 
 of her liking. I thank my stars. I am happy. I 
 will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross- 
 gartered, even with the swiflness of putting on. 
 Jove, and mv stars, be praised! — Here is yet a 
 postscript. Thoii canst not choose but know wlio I 
 am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in 
 till/ smiling ; thy smiles become thee iL'cll: there- 
 fore in my presence still smile, dear my stoeet, I 
 pr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee. — I will smile; I will 
 do every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. 
 
 Full. 1 willnot give my part of this sport for a 
 pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. 
 
 Sir To. I could marry this wench for tins de 
 vice. 
 
 .Sir And. So could I too. 
 
 Sir To. And ask no other dowry with licr, bat 
 such another jest. 
 
 Enter MiniA. 
 
 Sir And. Nor I neither. 
 
 Fob. Here comes my noble gull-catclier. 
 
 Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o'my neck! 
 
 Sir And. Or o'inine either! 
 
 .Sir To. Shall 1 play my. freedom at tray-trip,i 
 and become thy bond slave \ 
 
 Sir And. I'faith, or I either. 
 
 .Sir To. Wliy, thou hast put him in such a dream 
 that, vA'hen the image of it leaves him, he must run 
 mad. 
 
 lilar. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him'! 
 
 .Sir To. Like oqua-vitse witli a mid.wife. 
 
 Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, 
 mark his lirst approach before my lady : he will 
 come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she 
 abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; 
 and he will smile upon her, which will now be so 
 unsuitiible to her disposition, being addicted to a 
 melancholy as she is, tliat it cannot but turn him 
 into a notable contempt ; if you will see it, follow 
 me. 
 
 Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, tliou most excel- 
 lent devil of wit ! 
 
 Sir And. 1 11 make one too. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — Olivia's Garden. 
 Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor. 
 
 Via. Save thee, friend, and thy music : Dost Uiou 
 live by thy tabor ! 
 
 Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. 
 
 V'lo. Art thou a churchman ! 
 
 Clo. No such matter, sir ; I do live by the church : 
 for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand 
 by the church. 
 
 Vio. So thou mayst say, the king lies' by a beg- 
 gar, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church 
 stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. 
 
 Cio. You'liave said, sir.— To see this age ! — A 
 sentence is but a chevcril" glove to a good wit; 
 How quickly the wrong side may be turned oulwardi 
 
 Vio. Nay, that's certain; they, that dally nicely 
 with words, may quickly make them wanton. 
 
 Clo. I would, therefore, my sister had iiad no 
 name, sir. 
 
 Vio. W hy , man '! 
 
 Clo. Why, sir, hername's a word; and to dally 
 with that word, might make my sister wanton : Hut, 
 indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds dis- 
 graced them. 
 
 Via. Thy reason, man ! 
 
 Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield yon none without 
 words ; and words are grown so false, lam loatli to 
 prove reason with them. 
 
 Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car- 
 est for nothing. . 
 
 Clo. Notso. sir. I do care for something : but m 
 my conscience, sir: I do not care for you; if that be 
 to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you 
 invisible. 
 
 *Skin of a snake. 
 1 Utmost exactness. 
 
 eOpen country. 
 > Dwells. 
 
 Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool ! 
 
 Clo. No, indeed, sir; tlie lady Olivia has no folly : 
 she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; and 
 fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to her- 
 rings, the husbands the bigger; I am, indeed, not 
 her fool, but her corrupter of words. 
 
 Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. 
 
 C'/o. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like 
 the sun ; it shines every where. I would be sorry, 
 sir. but the foftl should be as otl with your master, 
 as with illy mi-strcss : 1 think I saw your wisdom 
 there. 
 
 Vio. Nay, an thou pa.ss upon me, I'll no more 
 with thee. Hold, there's cxjiences for thee. 
 
 Clo. Now Jo\e, in liis next commodity of hair, 
 send thee a beard ! 
 
 Vio. I)y my troth. I'll tell thee; I am almcsl sick 
 for one ; though I would not have it grow on my 
 chin. Is thy lady within ! 
 
 CYo. W ould not a pair of these have bred, sir ! 
 
 Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. 
 
 Clo. 1 would play lord Pandarus» of I'hrygia, 
 sir. to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. 
 
 rill. 1 understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. 
 
 CLo- The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, beg- 
 ging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My 
 lady is within, sir. I will construe to her when(« 
 you come: who you are, and what you would, are 
 out of my welkin: I might say, element; but the 
 word is over-worn. [Exii. 
 
 Vio. This fellow's wise enou£h to play the fool: 
 And to do that well, craves a kind of wit. 
 He must observe their mood on whom he jests. 
 The quality of persons, and the time; 
 And, like tlie haggard,' check at every feather 
 1 A boy's diversion, threii and trip. 
 ^ See th»» play of Troilus nmt Cresnda. 
 3 A hawk not well trained. 
 
72 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT : 
 
 Act III. 
 
 That comes before his eye. TJiis is a practice, 
 
 As lull of labor as a wise man's art : 
 
 For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit ; 
 
 Dut wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. 
 
 Knier Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Agce- 
 
 CHKKK. 
 
 Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 
 
 Vio. And you, sir. 
 
 Sir And. DLcu vous garde, monsieur, 
 
 Vio. Et vuus aii&si ; voire serviteur. 
 
 Sir And. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. 
 
 Sir To. Will you encounter the house T my niece 
 is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to 
 licr. 
 
 Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she 
 is the list* of my voya^ie. 
 
 Sir To. Taste your legs, sir. put them to motion. 
 
 Vio. My le^s do belter understand me, sir, than 
 T understand what you mean by bidding me taste 
 my le^s. 
 
 Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 
 
 Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance: 
 but we are prevented. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens ram 
 odors on you ! 
 
 Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain 
 odors ! well. 
 
 Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your 
 own most pregnant' and vouchsafed ear. 
 
 Sir And. Odors, pregnant, Aiidvouc/isafed : — I'll 
 get 'em all three ready. 
 
 Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me 
 to my hearini^. 
 
 [E.ftunt Sir Tonr, Sir Andrew, and Maria, 
 Give mc your hand, sir. 
 
 Vio. I\Iy duty, madam, and most humble service. 
 
 Oli. What is your name ! 
 
 Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. 
 
 Oli. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world 
 Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: 
 Yon are servant totne count Orsino, youth. 
 
 Vio. And he is yours, and liis must needs be 
 yours : 
 Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
 
 OH, KorJiim.l think noton him: for his thoughts, 
 'Would they were blanks, rather thanlili'd with me ! 
 
 Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
 On his behalf: 
 
 OH. O, by your leave, I pray you ; 
 
 I bade you never speak again of him: 
 But would you undertake another suit, 
 1 had ratlier litar you to solicit tliat. 
 Than music from tlie spheres. 
 
 Vio. Dear lady. 
 
 Oli. Give me leave. I beseech you : 1 did send, 
 After the last enchantment you did licre, 
 A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse 
 Myself, my servant, ;ind, I fear me, you: 
 Under your hard construction must I sit,. 
 To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, 
 ■ Which you knew none of yours: Whatmight you 
 think? 
 Have you not set mine Iionor at the .stake. 
 And baited it with all tlie unmuzzled thoughts 
 That tyrannous heart can think! To one of your 
 
 receivings 
 Knough is shown ; a cyprus, not a bosom. 
 Hides jny poor lieart: No let me hear you speak. 
 
 Vio. I pdy you. 
 
 Oli. That s a degree to love. 
 
 Vin. No, not a grise;! for 'tis a vulgar proof, 
 That very ot\ we pity enemies. 
 
 Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile 
 again ; 
 O world, how apt the poor arc to be proud ! 
 If one should be a prey, how much the better 
 To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock, strikes. 
 The clock upraids me with the waste of time, — 
 Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: 
 And yet. when" wit and youth is come to harvest. 
 Your wife is like to reap a proper man: 
 Tliere lies your way, due west. 
 
 Vij). Then westward-hoe : 
 
 Grace and good disposition 'tend your ladyship ! 
 You II nothing, madam, to my lord by me ! 
 
 i Bouna, limit. » Ready, e Heady npprelicnsion. t Step. 
 
 Oli. ."^tay: 
 I pr'ythre, tell me, what thou think'st of me. 
 
 Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are. 
 
 OH. If I think so, I think the same of you. 
 
 Vio. Then think you right; I am not what I am. 
 
 Oli. I would you were as I would have you be ! 
 
 Vio, Would it be better, madam, than I am, 
 I wish it might ; for now I am your fool. 
 
 OH. O what a deal of sconi looks beautiful 
 In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
 A murdTous guilt shows not itself more soon 
 Than love that would seem hid : love's night is noon. 
 Cesario, by the roses of the spring. 
 By maidhood, honor, truth, and every thing, 
 I love thee so, tJiat, niaugre all thy pride, 
 Nor wit, nor reason, can viy passion hide. 
 Do not extort thy reasons from this clause. 
 For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: 
 But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: 
 Love sought is good, but given unsought is bettei 
 
 Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 
 I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth. 
 And that no woman has; nor never none 
 Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
 And so adieu, good madam ; never more 
 Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 
 
 Oli* Yet come again: for thou, perhaps, mayst 
 move 
 That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. 
 
 [Exeu7it. 
 
 SCENE U.~ARoomin OYixia's House. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Bf-lcii, Sir Andrew Ague* 
 ciiKEK, ai}d Fabiax. 
 
 Sir And. No, faith, III not stay a Jot longer. 
 
 Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give tliy reason. 
 
 Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir An- 
 drew. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favors 
 to the counts serving man, than ever she bestowed 
 upon me : I saw't i' the orchard. 
 
 Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy T tell 
 me that. 
 
 Sir And. As plain as I see you now. 
 
 Fab. This was a great argument of love in her 
 towards you. 
 
 Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? 
 
 Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon tlie 
 oaths of judgment and reason. 
 
 Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men, 
 since before Noah was a sailor. 
 
 Fab. She did show favor to the youth in your 
 sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dor- 
 mouse valor, to put fire in your heart, and brim- 
 stone in your liver: You should then have accosted 
 her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from 
 the mint, you should have banged the youth into 
 dumbnes.s. This was looked for at your hand, and 
 this was baulked : the double gilt of this opportun- 
 ity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed 
 into the north of my lady's opinion; where you 
 will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman s hrnvd. un- 
 less you do redeem it by some laudable attempt 
 either of valor, or policy. 
 
 Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with 
 valor; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brown- 
 ist," as a politician. 
 
 Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon 
 the bnsis of valor. Challenge mc the count's youth 
 to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places; my 
 niece shall take note of it: and assure thyself, there 
 is no love broker in the world can more prevail in 
 man's commendation with woman, than report of 
 valor. 
 Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir Ant Will either of you bear me a challenge 
 to him '! 
 
 Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst* 
 and brief; it is no matter how witty so it be elo- 
 quent, and full of invention: taunt him with the 
 licence of ink : if thou //joi/'s/ him some thrice, it 
 shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in 
 thy sheet of paper, altiiough the sheet were big 
 enough for the bed of Ware* in England, set 'em 
 down ; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in 
 
 • Separatists in Queen Elizabeth's reign. 
 
 • Crabbed. ' In Hertfordshire, which held forty perfons. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 73 
 
 thy ink : though thou write with a goose-pen, no 
 matter : About it. 
 
 Sir And. Where shall I find you 7 
 
 a'lr To. We'll call thee at the cH6tc»Zo.-« Go. 
 
 [Exil Sir AsuiiEW. 
 
 Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, sir Toby. 
 
 Sir. To I have been dear to liim, lad ; some two 
 tliousand strong, or so. 
 
 Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him: but 
 you'll not deliver it i 
 
 Sir To. Never trust me then ; and by all means 
 stir on tiie youth to an answer. I think, oxen and 
 Tvainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, 
 if he were opened, and you find so much blood in 
 ills liver as will clog the foot of a flea, 1 11 eat the 
 rest of the anatomy. 
 
 Full. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his 
 visage no great presage of cruelty. 
 Enter Minn. 
 
 Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine 
 comes. 
 
 Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh 
 yourselves into stitches I'ollowme; yon gull Mal- 
 voho is turned lieallien a very renegade ; for theie 
 is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing 
 rightly, can ever beUeve such impossible passages 
 01 grossness. He's in yellow stockings. 
 
 Sir To. And cross-gartered ! 
 
 Mar. Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps 
 a school i' the church.— 1 have dogged him, like his 
 murderer: He docs obey every point of the letter 
 that 1 dropped to betray him. He does smile his 
 face into more lines, than are in the new map, with 
 the augmentation of the Indies; you have not seen 
 such a thing as 'tis : 1 can hardly forbear hurling 
 things at liim. I know, my lady will strike him ; i 
 if she do, he'll smile, and take t for a great tavor. I 
 
 Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. 
 
 [Exeunt. I 
 SCENE III.— .4 street. 
 Enter .\ntonio and Sebastia.v. 
 
 Seh. 1 would not, by my will, have troubled you; 
 Uut since you make your pleasure of your pains, 
 1 will no further chide you. 
 
 Ant. 1 could not stay behind you; my desire, 
 More sharp tlian filed steel, did spur me forth : 
 And not all love to see you, (tliough so much. 
 As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,) 
 liut jealousy what might befall your travel, 
 lieing skilless in tliese parts : wiiich to a stranger, 
 Unguided, and unfriended, often iirove 
 liougli and unhospitable : i\ly willing love, 
 The mther by these arguments of fear, 
 Set fortli in your pursuit. 
 
 Seb. My liind .\ntonio, 
 
 I can no otlier answer make, but thanks. 
 And thanks, and ever thanks: Ot\en good turns 
 Are shullled otTwith such uncurrent pay : 
 But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm, 
 'V'ou should lind better dealing. Wliafs to do ! 
 Shall we go see the rcliques of this town i 
 
 Ant. I'o-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your 
 lotlging. 
 
 Seb. I am not weary, and 'lis long to night ; 
 1 pray you, let us satisfy our eyes 
 'With the memorials, and the things of fame, 
 That do renown this city. 
 
 AnI. 'Would you'd pardon me; 
 
 I do not without danger walk these streets : 
 Once, in a sea-figlit, 'gainst the Count his gallies, 
 1 did some service ; of sucli note, indeed. 
 That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce he answer'd. 
 
 Seb. Behkc, you slew great number of his people 7 
 
 Ant. The olienee is not of such a liloody nature ; 
 Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel, 
 Might well have given us bloody argument. 
 It might have since been answer'd in repaying 
 What we took from them ; which for tratlic's sake 
 Most of our city did: only myself stood out: 
 For wliich, if I'be lapsed' in this place, 
 1 shall pay dear. 
 
 Seb. Do not then walk too open. 
 
 Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir. here's my purse; 
 In the south suburbs, at the F.lephant, 
 Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet, 
 WhUes you beguile the time, and feed your know- 
 ledge, 
 » Chamber. • Caught. 
 
 'With viewing of the town ; there shall you have me. 
 
 Seb. \V hy 1 your purse 7 
 
 Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy 
 You have desire to purchase ; and your store, 
 I think, is not for idle markets, sir. 
 
 Sib. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for 
 An hour. 
 
 Ant. To the Elephant.— 
 
 Seb. I do remember. 
 
 I Exeunt. 
 SCENE IV.— Olivia's Garden. 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 OH. I have sent after him : He says, he'll come; 
 How shall 1 Ie:ist hunt what bestow on hin» 1 
 For youth is bought more oft, tlian begg'd, or bor- 
 
 row'd. 
 T speak too loud. — 
 
 Where is Malvolio ! — he is sad. and civil. 
 And suits well for a servant with my fortunes; — 
 Where is Malvohol 
 
 Mar. He's coming, madam ; 
 
 But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd. 
 
 O i. Why, what's the matter 1 does he ravel 
 
 Mar. No, madam, 
 
 He does nothing but smile ; your ladyship 
 Were best have guard about you if he coLie ; 
 For. sure, the man is tainted in his wits. 
 
 OH. (io call him hitfier. I'm as mad as he. 
 If sad and merry madness equal be.— 
 
 Enter Maltoho. 
 How now, Malvolio T 
 
 Mat. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically 
 
 OH. Smil'st tlioul 
 I sent for thee upon a sad* occasion. 
 
 Mai. Sad, lady 1 I could be sad : 1'his does 
 make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gar- 
 tering: But what of that, if it please the eye of 
 one. It is with me as the very true sonnet is: Please 
 one, a)id yleaxe all. 
 
 OH. \V by, how dost thou, man 1 what is the mat- 
 ter with thee 1 
 
 Mat. Not black in my mind, though yellow in 
 my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands 
 shall be executed. 1 tiiink we do know the sweet 
 Roman hand. 
 
 OH. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio'? 
 
 Mai. To bed ! ay, sweet-heart : and I'll come to 
 thee. 
 
 OH. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so, 
 and Uiss thy hand so oft? 
 
 Mar. How do you, Malvolio? 
 
 Mai. At your request ? Yes; Nightingales an- 
 swer daws. 
 
 Mar. Why appear you with tliis ridiculous bold- 
 ness before my lady ? 
 
 l^Ial. Be not afraid of greatness : 'Twas well writ. 
 
 OH. What meanest "thou by that, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mai. Slime are born great. — 
 
 OH. Ha 7 
 
 Mai. Some achiere greatness, — 
 
 OH. What say St thou '. 
 
 Mai. And. ffoiiie hare greatness thrust upon ttieni, 
 
 OH. Heaven restore thee! 
 
 Ma!. Remember iclio coinmeniLd thy yellow 
 stocliinf^s : — 
 
 OH. Thy yellow stockings ? 
 
 IVIal. And u'l-slied to see thee cross-garte-cd, 
 
 OH. Cross-gartered! 
 
 Mai. Colo: titou art made, if itiou d'stf..st to 
 be .*o ,• — 
 
 OH. Am I made ! 
 
 Slal. If not, let me see tfiee a servant still. 
 
 OH. VVhy, this is very midsummer madness. 
 Enter Servant, 
 
 Serv. Madam, the young gentleman of the count 
 Orsino's is returned ; I could liardly entreat liim 
 back : he attends your ladyship's pleasure. 
 
 OH. I'll come to hiiii. [Exit Servant.] Good 
 Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my 
 cousin Toby '! Let some of my people have a spec- 
 ial care of "him; I would not have him miscarry 
 for the half of my dowry. 
 
 [Exeunt Oiivia and Maiiia 
 
 Mai. Oh ho ! do you come near me now ? no 
 worse man than sir Toby to look to me? This con- 
 curs directly with tlie letter: she sends him on 
 * Grave. 
 
74 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT : 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for 
 she mcitcs me to that iii the letter. Cast iki/ hum- 
 ble slough, says she : be opposite with a klnsmaJi, 
 surly with servants,— let thy tongue tang icilh ar- 
 guments of state,— put thyself i?ito the trick, of 
 singularity ; — aud, consequently, sets down the 
 manner how ; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, 
 a slow ton^iue, in the habit of some sir of note, and 
 so forth. I have limed her ; but it is Jove's doing, 
 and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went 
 away now, Let this ft I low be looked to: Fellow I* 
 not Malvoiio, nor after my degree, but fellow. 
 Why, every thing adheres together; that no dram 
 of a scruple, no scrujilc of a scruple, no obstacle, 
 no incredulous or unsafe circumstance, — What can 
 be said .' Nothmg, that can be, can come between 
 me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, 
 not I, is the doer of this, and lie is to be thanked. 
 
 Rc-enier Maria, tvith Sir Tonr Belch, a?id 
 Fa II I AN. 
 
 Sir To. Which way is he, in the name ofsanc^ 
 tity "! If all the devils "in hell be drawn in little, and 
 Legion himself possessed liim. yet 1 '11 speak to him. 
 
 Fab* Here he is, here he is: — How is'twith you, 
 sirl how is t with you, mani 
 
 MaL Go oiV; I discard you, let me enjoy my 
 private ; go otf. 
 
 Mur. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within 
 him! did not I tell you ? — Sir Toby, my lady prays 
 you to have a care of him. 
 
 Mai. Ah, ha! does she sol 
 
 Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal 
 gently with him; let me alone. How do you. Mal- 
 voiio f how ist with youl What, man! defy Uie 
 devil: consider he's an enemy to mankind. 
 
 Mai. Do you know what you say 7 
 
 Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how 
 he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched ! 
 
 Fa'j. Carry his water to the wise woman. 
 
 Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow 
 morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for 
 more than I'll say. 
 
 Mai. How now, mistress? 
 
 Mar. O lord ! 
 
 Sir To. Pry thee, hold thy peace: this is not the 
 way : Do you not see, you move him '{ let me alone 
 with him. 
 
 Fab. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the 
 fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. 
 
 Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock !« how dost 
 thou, chuck? 
 
 Mai. Sir? 
 
 Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man ! 
 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit^ with Satan ; 
 Hang him, foul collier! 
 
 Mar. Get him to say his prayers; good sir To- 
 by, get him to pray. 
 
 ^[al* My prayers, minx? 
 
 Mar. No, 1 warrant you,he will not hear of god- 
 liness. 
 
 Mai. Go hang yourselves all ! you are Idle shal- 
 low things: I am not of your element; you shall 
 know more hereafter. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. I s't possible? 
 
 F(/l>. If this were played upon a stage now, I 
 could condemn it as an improbable fiction. 
 
 Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection 
 of Lhe device, man. 
 
 Mar. Nay, pursue him now ; lest the device take 
 uir, and taint. 
 
 Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. 
 
 Mar. The house will he the quieter. 
 
 Sir To. Come, v^'c'll have him in a dark room, 
 and bound. My niece is already in the belief that 
 he is mad : we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, 
 and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of 
 breath, prompt us to have mercy on him ; at which 
 time, we wdl bring the device to the bar, and crown 
 thee fur a finder of madmen. But see, but see. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew Agce-ciief.k. 
 
 Fob. More matter for a I\Tay morning. 
 Sir And. Hercs the challenge, read it ; I warrant, 
 ■ Uiere's vinegar and pepper int. 
 Fab. Is't so saucy? 
 I Compauion, o, Tolly cock, heau and coq. 
 
 f A play amoug boys. 
 
 Sir A7id. Ay, is it, I warrant him ; do but read. 
 
 Sir To. Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever 
 thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow. 
 
 Fab. Good and valiant. 
 
 Sir To. VVondernot nor adnih'e not in thy mbid^ 
 why I do call thee soj for I will show thee no rea- 
 son for^t. 
 
 Fab. A good note : that keeps you from the blow 
 of the law. 
 
 Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in 
 my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in 
 thy throat, that is not tlie matter I challenge thee 
 for. 
 
 Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less. 
 
 Sir To. Iivill way-la// thee going tio/ne, where 
 if it be thy chance to kill me, 
 
 Fab. Good. 
 
 Sir To. T/iOU killest me like a rogue and a vil- 
 lain. 
 
 Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law : 
 Good. 
 
 Sir To. Fare thee ivell ; And God have mercy 
 upon one of our souls / He may have mcrai upon 
 mine ; but my hope is better, aiid so took to Uiyself. 
 Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enc' 
 m If. A N n R E w A c; u E-c n E r, K . 
 
 '.Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs can- 
 not: I'll givet him. 
 
 Mar. You may have very fit occasion fort; he 
 is now in some commerce with my lady, and will 
 by and by depart. 
 
 Sir To. Go, sir Andrew; scout me for him at 
 the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailirt ; so 
 soon as ever tliou seest him, draw; and, as thou 
 drawest, swear horrible ; for it comes to pass oft, 
 that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sliarp- 
 ly twanged off. gives manftood more approbation 
 than ever proof itself would have earned him. — 
 Away. 
 
 Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for the 
 behavior of the young gentleman gives him out to 
 be of good capacity and breeding; his employment 
 between his lord and my niece confirms no less; 
 therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, 
 will breed no terror in the youth; he will find it 
 comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his 
 challenge by word of mouth; set upon Ague-cheek 
 a notable report of valor; and drive the gentleman, 
 (as, I know, this youth will aptly receive it,) into 
 a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and 
 impetuosity. This will so frighlen them both, that 
 they will kill one another by the look, like cocka- 
 trices. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Viola. 
 
 Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give them 
 way, till he take leave, and presently after him. 
 
 Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some 
 horrid message for a challenge. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Tout, Fabia'v a7id Makia. 
 
 Oli. 1 have said too much unto a heart of stone, 
 And laid mine honor too unchary out: 
 There's something in me. that reproves my fault; 
 But such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
 That it but mocks reproof. 
 
 Vio. With the same 'havior that your passion 
 bears. 
 Go on my master's griefs. 
 
 Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture; 
 Kefuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you : 
 And, I beseech you. conic again to-murrow. 
 What shall yon ask of me. that I'll deny, 
 That honor, sav'd, may upon asking give! 
 
 Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my mas- 
 ter. 
 
 Oli. How with mine honor may I give him that 
 Which I have given to you? 
 
 Virj. I will acquit you. 
 
 Oli. Well, come again to-morrow : Fare thee well ; 
 A fiend, hke thee, might bear my soul to hell. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Sir Toby Belch and Fabias. 
 
 Sir To. Gentleman, God .save thee. 
 I'io. And you, sir. 
 
 Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to't 
 of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 75 
 
 T know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight, 
 bloody as the hunter, attends thcc at the orchard 
 end: dismount thy tuck,' he yare' in thy prepara- 
 tion, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, aiid deadly. 
 
 Vio. You mistake, sir : I am sure, no man hath 
 any quarrel to me ; my remembrance is very free 
 and clear from any image of offence done to any 
 man. 
 
 Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you : 
 therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake 
 you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him 
 wliat youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish 
 man withal. 
 
 Vi-o- I pray you, sir, what is he ? 
 
 Sir To. He is knight, dubbed witli unhacked 
 rapier, and on carpet consideration ; but he is a 
 devil in private brawl; souls and bodies hath he 
 divorced three ; and his incensement at this moment 
 is so implacaijie, that satisfaction can be none but 
 by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob, is his 
 word; give't or take't. 
 
 Vio. I will return again into the house, and de- 
 sire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. 
 I have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels 
 purposely on others, to taste their valor; belike, 
 this is a man of that quirk. 
 
 Sir To. Sir, no; hi3 indignation derives itself out 
 of a very competent injury ; therefore get you on, 
 and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the 
 Iiouse, unless you undertake that with me, which 
 with as much safety you might answer him; there- 
 fore, on, or strip your sword stark naked: for med- 
 dle you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear 
 iron about you. 
 
 (OV). This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you, 
 do me this courteous ofiice, as to know of the knight 
 wlnt my offence to him is: it is something of my 
 negligence, nothing of my purpose. 
 
 Sir To. I will do so. Signior Kahian, stay you 
 by this gentleman till my return. [Erlt Sir Toby. 
 
 Vio. Pray you. sir, do you know of this matter? 
 
 Fab. I know the knight is incensed against you, 
 even to a mortal abitrement; but nothing ot the 
 circumstance more. 
 
 Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is hel 
 
 Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read 
 nim by his form, as you are like to lind him in the 
 proof of his valor. He is. indeed, sir, the most 
 skilful, bloody, arid fatal opposite that you could 
 possibly have found in any part of Iltyria: Will 
 you v^'alk towards hinil 1 will make your peace 
 witli him, if I can. 
 
 Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't: I am 
 one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir 
 knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. 
 
 [Excunl. 
 Re-enlfir Sir Tobt unlh Sir AMmiw. 
 
 Sir To. Why, man. he's a very devil ; I have not 
 seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, 
 scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in,' 
 with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; 
 and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your 
 feet hit the ground they step on: They say he has 
 been fencer to the Sophy. 
 
 Sir And. Pox ont, I'll not meddle with him. 
 
 Sii- To. Ay, but be will not now be pacified: Fa- 
 bian can scarce hold him yonder. 
 
 Sir An-I. Plague on't; an I thought he had been 
 v.aliant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him 
 dammed ere I'd have challeiiged him. Let him let 
 the matter slip, and III give him my horse, grey 
 Capilot. 
 
 .Sir To. I'll make the motion : Stand here, make 
 a good show on't; this shall end without the per- 
 dition of souls. Marry, I'll ride your horse as well 
 as I ride you. [Aside. 
 
 Re-enter Fabian and Viola. 
 
 I have hishcrse [To Fab.] to take up the quarrel; 
 I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil. 
 
 Fah. He is as horribly conceited of him; and 
 pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. 
 
 Sir To. There's noremedy.sir; he will fight with 
 you for his oath's sake: marry, he hath better be- 
 thought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now 
 Bcarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for 
 8 R.ipier. 9 Rnajy. 
 
 1 Stoccato, au Italian term in f^'nciug. 
 
 the supportance of his vow ; he protests, he will not 
 hurt you. 
 
 I'io. Pray God defend me! A little tiling would 
 make me tell them how much I lack of a man. 
 
 [Asiile. 
 
 Fnb. Give ground, if you sec him furious. 
 
 Sir To. Come, sir .\ndrew, there's no remedy; 
 the gentleman will, for his honor's sake, have oiic 
 bout with you: he cannot by the duello* avoid it: 
 but he has promised me. as he is a gentleman and 
 a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on ; to t. 
 
 Sir Arid. Pray God, he keep his oath ! [Draws. 
 
 Enter Axtonio. 
 
 Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against my wili.[ Draww. 
 
 Ant. Put up your sword; — if this young gentle- 
 man 
 Have done offence, I take the fault on me ; 
 If you offend him, I lor him defy you. [Dravins. 
 
 Sir To. Vou, sir 1 why, what are you .' 
 
 Ant. One, sir, tiiat for his love dares yet do more 
 Than you have heard him brag to you he will. 
 
 Sir To. Nay, if you be au undertaker, I am for 
 you. [Draws. 
 
 Enter two OiScers. 
 
 Fah. O good sir Toby, hold ; here come the officers. 
 
 Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [I'd .'Vntomo. 
 
 Vio. Pray, sir, put uji your sword, if you i)lease. 
 [To Sir AMiiir.w. 
 
 Sir And. IMarry, will I, sir; — and. for that I 
 promised you. I II be as good as mv word: He will 
 bear you easily, and reins well. 
 
 1 Of. This is the man. do thy office. 
 
 2 0(/'. ,\ntonio, I arrest thee at tlie suit 
 Of Coiint Orsino. 
 
 Ant. Y'ou do mistake me, sir. 
 
 1 Off. No, sir. no jot; I know your favor well, 
 Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. — 
 Take him away; he knows, I know him well. 
 
 Ant. 1 must obey.— This comes with seeking 
 you; 
 Hut there's no remedy ; I shall answer it. 
 What will you do? Now my necessity 
 Makes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves me 
 Much more for what I cannot do for you. 
 Than what befals myself. You stand amaz'd ; 
 But be of comfort- 
 
 2 Off. Come, sir, away. 
 
 Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. 
 
 Vio. What money, sir .' 
 For the fair kindness you have show'd me here. 
 And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, 
 Out of my lean and low ability 
 111 lend you something: my having is not much; 
 I'll make division of my present with you: 
 Hold, there is half my coffer. 
 
 Ant. Will you deny me now ! 
 
 Is't possible that my deserts to you 
 Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery. 
 Lest that it make me so unsound a man, 
 As to upbraid you for those kindnesses 
 That I have done for you. 
 
 Vio. I know of none ; 
 
 Nor know I you by voice, or any feature : 
 I hate ingratitude more in a man. 
 Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 
 Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption 
 Inhabits our frail hlfiod. 
 
 Ant. O heavens themselves ! 
 
 2 Oif'. Come, sir, I pray you, go. 
 
 Ant. Let me speak a little. 'Ihis youth that you 
 see here, 
 I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death ; 
 
 Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love. 
 
 And to his image, which, methought, did promise 
 Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 
 
 I Off. What's that to us! The time goes by: 
 away. 
 
 Ant. But, 0. how vile an idol proves this god ! — 
 Thou bast. Sebastian, done good feature shame. — 
 In nature there's no blemish, but the mind; 
 None can be called deform'd, but the unkind: 
 Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil 
 Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil. 
 
 I Off. The man grows mad ; away with him. 
 Come, come. sir. 
 
 Ant. Lead me on. [E.vrunt Officers luit/i .Int 
 ^ Laws i>f duel. 
 
70 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT: 
 
 Act IV. Scene I. 
 
 Vio. Meth inks, his words do from such passions fly , 
 That he believes himself; so do not I. 
 Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, 
 Tliat 1, dear brotlier, be now ta'en for you ! 
 
 Sir To. Come hither, knight; come liither, Fabi- 
 an ; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most 
 safje saws. 
 
 Via. He named Sebastian ; I my brother know 
 Yet hving in my ^lass; even such, and so, 
 In favor was my brother: and he went 
 Still in this fashion, color, ornament, 
 For him I imitate: O, if it prove. 
 Tempests axe kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more 
 a coward than a hare : his dishoiesty appears in 
 leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying 
 him; and for liis cowardship, ask Fabian. 
 
 Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious 
 in it. 
 
 Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him. 
 
 Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw 
 thy sword. 
 
 S'ir yinrf. An I donot,— [Exit, 
 
 Fab. Come, let's see the event. 
 
 Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing 
 yet. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.—Tlie Street before Olivia's House. 
 Enter Sebastian and Clown. 
 
 Clo. Will you make me believe that I am not 
 sent for you f 
 
 Seb. Go to, go to. thou art a foolish fellow ; 
 Let me be clear of thee. 
 
 Cln. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not know 
 you ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid 
 you come speak with her; nor your name is not 
 master Ccsario ; nor this is not my nose neither. — 
 Nothing that is so, is so. * 
 
 Sc'j. 1 pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else; 
 Thou knovv'st not me. 
 
 Clo. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of 
 some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent 
 my folly ! I am afraid this sreat lubber, the world, 
 wdl prove a cockney. — I pr'ythee now, ungird Ihy 
 strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my 
 lady : Shall i vent to her, that thou art coming T 
 
 Se't. I pr'ytlieo. foolish greek, depart from me; 
 There's money for thee; it thou tarry longer, 
 I shall give worse payment. 
 
 Clo. By my trotli, thou hast an open hand: — 
 These wise men that give fools money, get them- 
 selves a good report after fourteen years' purchase. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Tonx and FAniAS. 
 
 Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again T there's 
 for you. [Striking Skiiastian. 
 
 Seb. Wily, there's for thee, and there, and there : 
 Are all the people mad ? [Beating Sir Anduew. 
 
 Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er 
 the house. 
 
 Ctu. This will I tell my lady straight: I would 
 not be in some of your coats for two-pence. 
 
 1 Kxit Clown. 
 
 Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Ihtding Sf.b. 
 
 Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way 
 to work with him ; I'll have an action of battery 
 against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though 
 I struck him lirsi, yot it's uo matter for that. 
 
 Seb. Let go tiiy hand. 
 
 Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let yon go. Come, 
 my young soldier, put up your iron : you are well 
 fleshed; come on. 
 
 SeJ. I wdl be free from thee. What wouldst 
 thou know T * 
 
 If thou dar'sl tempt me further, draw thy sword. 
 
 [Draius. 
 
 Sir Tn. What, whaf! Nay, then I must have an 
 ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. 
 
 [Draws. 
 
 Enter Olivia. 
 
 Oli. Hold, Toby: on thy life, I charge thee, hold. 
 
 Sir To. Madam f 
 
 Oli. Will it be ever thus] Ungracious wretch. 
 Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves. 
 Where manners ne'er were preach' d ! out of my 
 sight. 
 
 Be not offended, dear Cesario: 
 
 Rudesby,! begone! — 1 pr'ythee, gentle friend, 
 
 [E.veu7it Sir 'j'or.v, Sir Avkhew and Fabiax. 
 Let thy fair wisdom, not tliy passion, sway 
 In this uncivil and unjust extent' 
 
 3 KaJe fellow. * Violence. 
 
 Against thy peace. Go with me to my house ; 
 And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
 This ruflian hath botched up, that thou thereby 
 Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go: 
 Do not deny : Beshrew his soul for me. 
 He started one poor heart of mine in tliee. 
 
 Seb. What relish is in this! how runs the stream T 
 Or I am mad, or else this is a dream : — 
 l.et fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; 
 If it be thus to dream, still let me .sleep : 
 
 Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee: 'Would thou'dst be 
 ruld by me! 
 
 Seb. Madam, 1 will. 
 
 Oli. 0, say so, and so be ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— yl Room i7i Olivia's House. 
 
 Enter Maria and Clown. 
 
 Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and 
 this beard; make him believe thou art sir Topas, 
 the curate ; do it quickly : I'll call sir Toby the 
 whilst. (iJxi/ Maria. 
 
 Ctu. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble 
 myself int; and I would I were the first that ever 
 dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough 
 to become the function well, nor IcBn enough to 
 be thought a good student: but to be said, an hon- 
 est man", and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly, as 
 to say. a careful man and a great scholar. The 
 competitors^ enter. 
 
 Enter Sir Tobt Br.LCti c;irf Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Jove bless thee. Master Parson. 
 
 Clo. Bonos dies,s\t Toby: for as the old hermit 
 of Prague, that never saw pen and ink. very wittily 
 said to a niece of king dorboduc. That, tliut is, ts ,• 
 so 1, being master parson, am master parson; For 
 what is that, hut that ! and is, but is ! 
 
 .Sir To. To bim. sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. What, hoa I say, — Peace in this prison! 
 
 .S/> To. The knave counterfeitswell ; a ;^ood knave. 
 
 Mai. \In an inner chamber.} Who calls there] 
 
 Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit 
 Malvolio, the lunatic. 
 
 filiil. Su: Topas, sh: Topas, good sir Topas, go to 
 my lady. 
 
 C7o. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou 
 this man ! talkest thou nothing but of ladies? 
 
 .Sir To. Well said, master parson. 
 
 JI/«/. Sir Topas, never was a man thus wronged : 
 good sir Topas, do not think I am mad; they have 
 laid me here in hideous darkness. 
 
 Clo- I'ie, thou disiioncst Satban ! I call thee by 
 the most modest terms; liir I am one ^-^^ those gen- 
 tle one.s, that will use the devil himself with court- 
 esy : Say'st thou, that house is dark f 
 
 Mill. As hell, sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. Wliy, it hath bay-windows transparent as 
 barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south- 
 north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complain- 
 cst thou of obstruction? 
 
 Mai. I am not mad, sir Topas ; I say to you, this 
 house is dark. 
 
 Clo. Madman, thou errcst: I say. there is no 
 darkness, but ignorance ; in which Ibou art more 
 puziled than the Egyptians in their fog. 
 
 • CoulVdi:riitca. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 77 
 
 Mat.* I say, this house is as dark as igrioranre, 
 though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, 
 there was never man thus abused: I am no more 
 mad than you are; make the trial of it in any con- 
 stant question." 
 
 Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, con- 
 cerning' wild-fowl! 
 
 Ma/. That the soul of our grandam might haply 
 inhabit a bird. 
 
 C/o. What thinkest thou of his opinion! 
 
 Mat. I think nobly of the soul, and no way ap- 
 prove his opinion. 
 
 Clo. Fare thee well: Remain thou still in dark- 
 ness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, 
 ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a wood- 
 cock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. 
 Fare thee well. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, — 
 
 Sir To. My most exquisite sir Topas! 
 
 Clo. Nay, I'm for all waters.' 
 
 Mar, Thou mighLst have done this without-thy 
 beard and gown ; he sees thee not. 
 
 Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring 
 me word how thou findest him : I would, we were 
 well rid of this knaver>'. If he may be conveniently 
 delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in 
 offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with 
 any safety this sport to the upsliot. Come by and 
 by to my chamber. [Exeunf Hir Tody a/idMARiA. 
 
 Clo. Heii Robin.joUy Robin. 
 
 Tell me fu^w thy lathj does. [Singing. 
 
 Mai. Fool,— 
 
 Clo. Ml/ ladi/ is unkind, perdy. 
 
 Mai. Fool,— 
 
 Clo. Alas, tchij is she so ? 
 
 Mai. Fool, I say ; — 
 
 C!o. She loves uuolher — Who calls, ha ? 
 
 Mai. Good tool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at 
 my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and 
 paper; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thank- 
 ful to thee for i. 
 
 Clo. Master Malvolio! 
 
 Mai. Ay, good fool. 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits t 
 
 Mai. Fool, there was never man so notoriously 
 abused; 1 am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. 
 
 Clo. But as well T tlien you are mad, indeed, if 
 you be no better in your wits than a fool. 
 
 Mai. They have here propertied me; keep me 
 in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all 
 they can to face me out of my wits. 
 
 Clo. Advise you what you say ; the minister is 
 here. MalvoHo. Malvolio, thy wits the heavens re- 
 store ! endeavor thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain 
 liibhie babble. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, 
 
 Clo. Maintain no words with him. good fellow. — 
 who, 1, sir ! not 1, sir. God b' wi' you, good sir 
 Topas. — Marry, amen. — I will, sir, I will. 
 
 Mai Fool, fool, fool, I say, — 
 
 Clo. Alas. sir. be patient. What say you, sir! I 
 am shenta for speaking to you- 
 
 Mai. Good tool, help me to some light, and some 
 paper; I tell thee, 1 am as well in my wits, as any 
 man in lliyria. 
 
 Clo. Well-a-day, — that you were, sir ! 
 
 Mai. By this hand, I am : Good fool, some ink, 
 paper, and light, and convey what I will set down 
 
 to my lady ; it shall advantage thee more than ever 
 the bearing of letter did. 
 
 Clo. I will help you lo 't. But tell me true, are 
 you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit! 
 Mai. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. 
 Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see 
 his brains. I will fetch youhght,and paper, and ink. 
 
 Mai. Fool, I'll requite it in the higliest clegree : 
 I prythee be gone. 
 Clo. / am gonCj sir. 
 
 And anoJi, sir, 
 ril he ivith you again^ 
 In a irici ; 
 Like to the old vice^ 
 Your need to sustain. 
 
 Who with dagger of lath, 
 In his rage and his n-ra/h. 
 
 Cries, ah, ha ! to the devil: 
 Like a mad lad, 
 Pare thy nails, dad. 
 
 Adieu, good man drivel. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— Olivia's Garden. 
 Enter Sebastiax. 
 
 Seb. This is tJie air; that is the glorious sun; 
 This pearl she gave me. I do feel 't and see't: 
 And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus. 
 Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then ! 
 I could not find him at the Elephant: 
 Yet there he was; and there I found his credit,' 
 That he did range the town to seek me out. 
 His counsel now might do me golden service: 
 For though my soul disputes well with my sense, 
 That this may be some error, but no madness, 
 Y'et doth this accident and flood of fortune 
 So far exceed all instance, all discourse. 
 That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, 
 And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me 
 To any other trust, but that I am mad, 
 Or else the lady's mad ; yet, if "twere so. 
 She could not sway her house, command her fol- 
 lowers. 
 Take, and give back, affairs and their despatch. 
 With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, 
 As, I perceive, she does: there's something in't, 
 That IS deceivable. But here comes the lady. 
 
 Enter Olivia and a Priest 
 
 Oil. Blame not this haste of mine; If you mean 
 well, 
 Now go with me. and with this holy man, 
 Into the chantry by: there, before him, 
 And underneath that consecrated roof, 
 Plight me the full assurance of your faith; 
 That my most jealous and too d.oubtful sou 
 May live at peace : He shall conceal it, 
 Whiles* you are willing it shall come to note; 
 What time we will our celebration keep 
 According to my birth. — What do you say ? 
 
 Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; 
 And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 
 
 Oil. Then lead the way, good father; And 
 
 heaven so shine. 
 That they may fairly note this act of mine ! 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Street before OUxin's House. 
 
 Enter Clown a}id Fabian. 
 
 Fab. Now. as thou lovrst me, let me see his letter. 
 Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another re- 
 quest. 
 Fab. Any thing. 
 
 Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. 
 Fab. Thot is, to give a dog, and, in recompense, 
 desire my dog agam. 
 
 e Regular conversation. 
 
 ' Any otlipr Oem as well as a Topaz. 
 
 8 Scolded, reprimanded- 
 
 Eiiter Di'KE, Viola, and Attendants. 
 
 Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends? 
 
 Cla. Ay, sir ; we are some of her trappings. 
 
 Duke. I know thee well; How dost thou, my 
 good fellow 1 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the 
 worse for my friends. 
 
 Duke. J ust the contrary ; the better for thy friends. 
 
 do. No, sir, tiie worse. 
 
 Duke. How can that be 1 
 » A buffoon chfiracter in the ol J plays, and father of 
 the modem Harlequin. 
 
 1 Account •Until. 
 
78 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT: 
 
 Act V. 
 
 CU). Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass 
 of me; now my toes tell me plainly I am an ass: 
 so tiiat by my lues, sir, 1 protit in the knowledge of 
 niy^self; and by uiy friends 1 am abused : so tliat, 
 conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives 
 make your two airirmatives, wliy then the worse Ibr 
 my friends, and the better for my Ibes. 
 
 Duke. Why, this is excellent. 
 
 C/w. By my trotii, sir, no ; though it please you 
 to be one of my friends. 
 
 Duke. Thou shall not be thp worse for me; 
 there's goid. 
 
 Vlij. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I 
 would you could make it another. 
 
 Duk-. (-», you give me ill counsel. 
 
 Cln, Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this 
 once, and let your Uesh and blood obey it. 
 
 Dnke. Well, 1 will be so much a sinner to be a 
 double-dealer; there's another. 
 
 Clo. Frimo, aecundo, ttrtio, is a good play ; and 
 tlie old saying is, the third pays for all : the triplex, 
 eir, is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of St. 
 Bennet, sir, may put you in mind ; One, two, three. 
 
 Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at 
 this throw : if you wdl let your lady know, 1 am 
 here to speak witli her, and bring her along with 
 you. it may awake my bounty further. 
 
 Clu. Marry, sir, lullaby to j our bounty till I come 
 again. I go, sir; but 1 would not have you to 
 think, that my desire of having is the sin of covet- 
 ousness: but as you say, sir, let your bounty take 
 a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Ofiicers. 
 
 Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. 
 
 Duke. That face of his 1 do remember well ; 
 Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd 
 As black as Vulcan, in tlie smoke of war: 
 A bawbling vessel was he captain of, 
 For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable ; 
 With which such scathful grapple did he make 
 With the most noble botto.n of our Hcet, 
 That very envy, and tile tongue of loss, 
 Cry-'d f ime and honor on him. What's the matter 1 
 
 1 Off'. Orsino, this is that Antonio, 
 That "took tlie Phoenix, and her fraught" from 
 
 Candy ; 
 And this is he, that did the Tiger board, 
 When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: 
 Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and .state, 
 In private bra'ible did we apprehend him. 
 
 I'io. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side ; 
 But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me, 
 I know not what 'twas, but distraction. 
 
 Duke. Notable pirate ! thou salt-water thief! 
 W hat loolisli boldness brought thee to their mercies, 
 Whom thou, ill terms so bloody, and so dear, 
 Hast made thine enemies ! 
 
 jint. Orsino, noble sir, 
 
 Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me ; 
 Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate; 
 Though, I confess, on base and ground enough, 
 Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither ; 
 That most ingrateful boy there, by your side, 
 From the rude sea's enragd and foamy mouth 
 Did I rcdpem; a wreck past hope he was: 
 His life I gave him, and did thereto add 
 My lovo, without retention, or restraint. 
 All his in dedication: lor his sake. 
 Did 1 expose myself, pure for his love, 
 Into the danger of this adverse town ; 
 Drew to delcnd hiiii, when he was beset; 
 Where being apprehended, his false cunning, 
 (Not meaning to partake with me in danger,) 
 Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, 
 And grew a twenty-years-removed thing. 
 While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, 
 Which I had recommended to his use 
 JSot half an hour before. 
 
 yif). How can this be" 
 
 Duke. When came he to this town'! 
 
 Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three montlis 
 before, 
 (No interim, not a minute's vacancy,) 
 Both day and night did we keep company. 
 Enter Olivia and Attendants. 
 
 PuliC. Here comes the countess; now heaven 
 
 walks on earth. 
 
 3 Freight. 
 
 But for thee, fellow, fellow, (hy words arc madness : 
 Three months this youth hath tendtd upon me; 
 But more of that anon. Take him aside. 
 
 Uti. What would my lord, but that he may not 
 have, 
 Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable '! 
 Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 
 
 P'io. Madam! 
 
 Duke. Gracious Olivia,— — 
 
 Oi!j. What do you say, Cesario '! Good my 
 
 lord, 
 
 Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes tie. 
 
 Oli. If it be aught to tlie old tune, my lord, 
 It is as fat* and fulsome to mine ear. 
 As iiowling after music. 
 
 fluke. Still so cruel 1 
 
 Uii. Still so constant, lord. 
 
 Duke- What! to perverseness! you uncivil lady, 
 To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars 
 My soul the faithfuU'st ofl'erings hath breath'd out. 
 That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall 1 do ! 
 
 Oli. Kven what it please my lord, tliat shall be- 
 come him. 
 
 Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to doit, 
 Like to the Kgyptian thief, at point of death. 
 Kill what I love; a savage jealousy. 
 That sometime savors nobly ! — But hear me this: 
 Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, 
 And that I partly know the instrument 
 That screws me from my true place in your favor. 
 Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still; 
 But this, your minion, whom, 1 know, you love, 
 And whom, by heaven, 1 swear, I tender dearly, 
 Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, 
 Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. — 
 Come boy, with me; my thoughts are ripo in mis- 
 chief; 
 I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love. 
 To spite a raven's heart within a dove. {Going, 
 
 Vio. And I, most jocund, apt. and willingly. 
 To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
 
 [Fullowins- 
 
 Oli. Where goes Cesario? 
 
 Vio. After him I love. 
 
 More than I love these eyes, more than my life, 
 More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife: 
 If I do leign, you witnesses above, 
 Punish my life, for tainting of my love! 
 
 Oti. Ah me, detested! how am I beguil'd ! 
 
 Vio. Who does beguile you ! who does do you 
 wrong'! 
 
 Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? — 
 Call forth the lioly fatlier. \ExU an Attendant. 
 
 Duke. Come away. [To Viola. 
 
 Oli. Whither, my lord ? — Cesario, husband, stay. 
 
 Duke. Husband! 
 
 Oli. Ay, husband; Can he that deny ? 
 
 Duke. Her husband, sirrah ! 
 
 Vio. No, ray lord, not I. 
 
 Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear, 
 That makes thee strangle thy propriety; 
 Fear not. Cesario, take thy fortunes up ; 
 Be that thou knovv'st thou art, and then thou art 
 As great as that thou fear'st. — O, welcome, fatlier! 
 
 Re-enter Attendant and Priest 
 
 Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence. 
 Here to unfold (though lately we intended 
 To keep in darkness, what occasion now 
 Reveals belbre 'tis ripe) what thou dost know 
 Hath newly past between this youth and me. 
 
 Friest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 
 Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands. 
 Attested by the holy close of lips, 
 Strengthened by interchangement of your rings; 
 And all the ceremony of this compact 
 Scal'd in my function, by my testimony : 
 Since when, my watch liatli told nie, toward my 
 
 grave, 
 I have traveli'd but two hours. 
 
 Duke. O thouili>seiiibliiig cub! what wilt tliou be. 
 When time hath sow d a grizzle on thy case ! 
 Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow. 
 That thine own trip shall he thine overthrow .' 
 Farewell, and take her; but direct thy liiet. 
 Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. 
 
 Vio. fily lord, I do protest,— 
 
 Oti, O, do not swear ; 
 
 * Dull, gross. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 7y 
 
 Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. 
 
 Enter Sir Asdkew Agce-cheek, with his head 
 broken* 
 
 Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon ; send 
 one prosentlj,' to sir Toby. 
 
 Oil. What's the matter ! 
 
 Sir And. He has broke my head across, and has 
 given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love 
 of tiod, your help : 1 had rather than forty pound, 
 I were at home. 
 
 Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew? 
 
 Sir Afci. Tile count*s f^entletnan, one Cesario: 
 we took him for a coward, but he's the very devU 
 iiicardiaate. 
 
 liuke. My gentleman, Cesario! 
 
 Sir And. (Id's lifelings, here he is : — You broke 
 my head for nothin^r ; and that that I did, I was set 
 on to do't by sir Toby. 
 
 Viu. Why do you speak to me ? I never hurt you : 
 You drew your sword upon me, without cause; 
 But I bcspake you fair, and hurt you not. 
 
 Sir And. If a blootly coxcomb be a hurt, you 
 have hurt me; I think, you set nothing by a bloody 
 coxcomb. 
 
 Enlcr Sir Tobt Belch, drunk, led by the Clown. 
 
 Here comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear more: 
 hut if he had not been in drink, he would have 
 tickled you olhergatesi than he did. 
 
 Duke. How now, gentleman'! How is'twith j-ou? 
 
 Sir To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and 
 there's the end on't. — Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, 
 sot! 
 
 Clo. he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone; his 
 eyes were set at eight i' the morning. 
 
 Sir To. Then he's a rogue. A Iter a passy-mea- 
 sure, or a pavin ;« I hate a drunken rogue. 
 
 Oli. Away with him: Who liatli made tliis havoc 
 with them ! 
 
 Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll 
 be dressed tosether. 
 
 Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a cox- 
 comb, and a knave! a thin-faced knave, a gull! 
 
 Oli. (Jet him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. 
 lExeunt Clown, Sir Tout and Sir Anuhew. 
 
 Enter Sebastian. 
 
 Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins- 
 man ; 
 But had it been the brother of my blood, 
 I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. 
 You throw a strange regard upon me, and 
 By that 1 do perceive it hath oltendcd you; 
 Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
 We made each other but so late ago. 
 
 Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two 
 persons ; 
 A natural persjiective, that is, and is not. 
 
 Se!j. Antonio, mv dear Antonio ! 
 How have the hours r'ackd and tortur'd me, 
 Since 1 have lost thee ! 
 
 Ant. Sebastian are you 1 
 
 Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio " 
 
 AnI. How have you made division of yourself! — 
 An apple, cleft in 'two, is not more twin 
 Than Miese two creatures. Which is Sebastian'! 
 
 Oli. Most wonderful ! 
 
 Set). Do I stand there 1 I never had a brother : 
 Nor can there be that deity in my nature. 
 Of here and every where. I liad a sister, 
 W honi the blind waves and surges have devour'd :— 
 Of charity, what kin are > on to me ! [To Viola. 
 W hat countryman ''. what name 1 what parentage T 
 
 Vio- OfMessaline: Sebastian Wiis my father; 
 Such a Sebastian was my brotlicr too. 
 So went he suited to his watery tomb: 
 If spirits can assume both form and suit, 
 You come to fright us. 
 
 Stb. A spirit I am, indeed; 
 
 But am in that dimension grossly clad. 
 Which from the womb I did participate. 
 Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
 I sliouid my tears let fall upon your cheek. 
 And say — Thrice welcome, drowned Viola! 
 
 Vin. 'My father had a mole upon his brow. 
 
 S('>. And so had mine. 
 
 l'i'«. And died that day when Viola from her birth 
 Had number'd thirteen years 
 
 *Otherways. e Serious dances. 
 
 Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! 
 He finished, indeed, liis mortal act 
 That day that made my sister thirteen years. 
 
 Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both, 
 But this my masculine usurp'd attire, 
 Do not embrace me, till each circumstance 
 Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump, 
 That I am Viola: which to confirm, 
 1 11 bring you to a captain in this town. 
 Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle help 
 I was preserv'd, to serve this noble count: 
 All the occurrence of my fortune since 
 Hath been between this lady and this lord. 
 
 Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: 
 
 [To Olivia. 
 But nature to her bias drew in that. 
 You would have been contracted to a maid; 
 Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived. 
 You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. 
 
 Duke. Benotamaz'd; right noble is his blood. — 
 If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 
 I shall have share in this most liapj)y wreck : 
 Boy, thou hast said to mc a thousand times, 
 
 [To Viola. 
 Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. 
 
 T7ii, And all those sayings will I over-swear; 
 And all those swearings keep as true in soul. 
 As doth that orb'd continent, the lire. 
 That severs day from night. 
 
 Duke. Give me thy hand ; 
 
 And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 
 
 I'io. The captain, that did bring me first on shore, 
 Hath my maicls garments: he, upon some action, 
 Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit, 
 A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. 
 
 Oli. He shall enlarge him; — Fetch Malvolio 
 hither: — 
 .4nd yet, alas, now I remember mc. 
 They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract 
 
 Re-enter Clown, with a Letter. 
 
 .K most extracting frenzy of mine own 
 
 From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. — 
 
 How docs he, sirrah ! 
 
 Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Beelzebub at the 
 stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do : 
 he has here writ a letter to you ; I should have giv- 
 en it to you to-day morning; but as a madman's 
 epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when 
 they are delivered. 
 
 Oli. Open it, and read it. 
 
 Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool 
 delivers the madman : — Hij the Lord, madam, — 
 
 Oli. How now, art thou mad! 
 
 Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness : an your 
 ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must 
 allow vox.'' 
 
 Oli. Pr'ylhce, read i' thy right wits. 
 
 Clo. Sol do, madonna ; but to read his right wits 
 is to read thus: therefore perpend,' my princess 
 and give ear. 
 
 Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [ToFaiiian. 
 
 Fab. [Reads.] By the lord, madam, you irrong 
 me, and the world shall knoiv it : though you hare 
 put me into darkness, and given your drunken 
 cousin rttle over me, yet tmve I the'btnejit of my 
 .senses as well as your ladyshij*. I have your own 
 letter that induced me to the semblance I put on ; 
 with the which I dnubt not but to do myself much 
 right, or ijou much sha7ne. Think (f me as you 
 plca.ye. I leave my duty a little unthoug/if of, and 
 speak out of nty injury. Ttie madly used 
 
 Malvolio. 
 
 Oli. Did he write this'! 
 
 Clo. Ay, madam. 
 
 ]}uke. This savors not much of distraction. 
 
 Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian ; bring him hither. 
 
 [Lxil Fabian'. 
 
 My lord, so please you, these things further thought 
 
 on, 
 To think me as well a sister as a wife, 
 One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you. 
 Here at my house, and at my proper cost. 
 
 Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your 
 ofl'er. — 
 Your master quits you ; [To Viola] and, for your 
 
 service done him. 
 So much against the mettle" of your sex, 
 
 ' Voice. • Attend. 8 Frame and constitution. 
 
80 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT : OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, 
 And since you call'd nie master for so long, 
 flere is my lumd ; you shall from this time be 
 Your master's mistress. 
 on. A sister? — you are she. 
 
 Re-enter Fabian with Malvolio. 
 
 Duke. Is tills the madman T 
 
 OIL Ay, my lord, the same : 
 
 How now, Malvolio'! 
 
 MaL Madam, you have done me wrong, 
 
 Notorious wrong. 
 
 Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no. 
 
 Mai. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. 
 You must not now deny it is your hand, 
 Write trom it, if you can, in hand, or phrase; 
 Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention: 
 You can say none of this : Wei!, grant it then. 
 And tell me, in the modesty of honor, 
 wiiy you have given me such clear lights of favor; 
 Bade ine come pmiUng, and cross-gartered to you, 
 To put on yellow stockings, and to frown 
 Upon sir Toby, and the hghtcr peojjlc : 
 And, acting this in an obedient hope. 
 Why have you sutfer'd me to be imprison''d, 
 Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 
 And made the most notorious gecli,» and gull, 
 That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why. 
 
 Oli. Alas, Malvoho, this is not my writing, 
 Thou;ih I confess much like the character: 
 But out of question, "tis Marians hand. 
 And now 1 do betiiink me, it was she 
 First told me, thou wast mad ; then cam'st in smiling, 
 And in such forms which here were presuppos'd 
 Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythce, be content: 
 This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ; 
 But when we know the grounds and authors of it, 
 Thou shall be botli the plaintid' and the judge 
 Of thine own cause. 
 
 Fab. Good madam, hear me speak; 
 
 And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come. 
 Taint the condition of this present hour, 
 Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not, 
 Most freely I confess, myself and Toby 
 Set this device against Malvoho here. 
 Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
 We had conceived against him: Maria writ 
 The letter, at sir Tobys °;reat importance ;*» 
 In recompense whereof, ne hath married Iier. 
 How with a sportful noahce it was follow'd, 
 I JcoL • Importunity. 
 
 M:iy rather pluck on laughter than revenge; 
 If tliat the injuries be justly weigh" d, 
 That have on both sides past. 
 
 Oli. Alas, poor fool ! how have they baffled thee ! 
 
 Clo. Why, smue are born great, some achieve 
 greatness, and some have g?-eainesfi ikroivn upon 
 them, I was one, sir, in tliisinterlude; onesir To- 
 pas, sir; but that's all one : — By the L(n'd^ fool, 1 
 am not 7»arf;— But do you remember? Madaniy 
 why tattsh you at such a barrrcn rascal? an you 
 smile mji, he's ga^g''d.- And thus the whirligig of 
 time brings in his revenges. 
 
 Mai. Ill be revenged on the whole pack of you. 
 
 [ExiL 
 
 Oli. He hath been most notoriously abused. 
 
 iJahe. Pursue liim, and entreat him to a peace; — 
 He hall] not told us of the captain yet; 
 Wlien that is known and golden lime convents," 
 A solemn combination shall be made 
 Of our dear souls: — Mean time, sweet sister, 
 We will not part from hence. — Cesario, come, 
 For so you sliall be while you are a man: 
 liut, when in other habits you are seen, 
 Orsinos mistress, and his fancy's queen. [Exeunt* 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. When that I was and a little tiny hoy^ 
 With hey, ho, the tvind and the rain, 
 A foolish thing wa^t but a toy, 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came to man^s estate. 
 With hey, ho, the wind ami the ?-ain, 
 
 ^Gainst knave and thief men shut their ^ate, 
 Fur the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came, alas! to tvive, 
 With ftey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
 
 By swaggering could I never thrive, 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came unto my bed. 
 When tiey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
 
 With toss-pots stilt had drunken head, 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 A great irhile ago the world, begun. 
 
 With hey, ho, the ivind and th£ rain. 
 But that's all one, our play is done. 
 And weHl strive to please you every day. 
 lExiU 
 ■ Shall serve.' 
 
 I 
 
MEASURE FOE MEASURE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 ViNCENTio, Duke nf Vienna. 
 
 AwGEi.0, Lord Depti/v in the Duke's absence, 
 
 EscALus, an ancient l,nrd,joined witti Angelo in 
 
 the deputation. 
 CtAUDio, a younf^ Gentleman. 
 Lucio, a Fantastic. 
 Two oilier like Gentlemen. 
 Varbius, a Gentleman, Servant to the Duke. 
 Provost. 
 
 JbT;,S T.. Friars. 
 
 A Justice. 
 
 Elbow, a simple Constable. 
 
 FnoTH, a fooluih gentleman. 
 Clowx, Servant to Ulrs. Overdone. 
 Ahhoiisos, an Executioner. 
 Bahxabdine, a dissolute Prisoner. 
 
 Isahella, Suiter to Claudio. 
 INlAniANA, tietrothed to Angelo, 
 JCLiF.T, beloved hij Claudio. 
 FiiAycTSCA, a Nun. 
 Mistress Oyt-nuasfi, a bawd. 
 
 Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 SCENE.— Vienna. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. 
 
 Enter Duke, Escalcs, and Lords. 
 
 Duke. Escalus, — 
 
 Esc. My lord. 
 
 Duke. Of government tlie properties to unfold, 
 Would seem in me V affect sjieech and discourse, 
 Since I am put to know, tliat your own science 
 Exceeds in that the lists of all advice 
 My strength can give you : Then no more remains 
 But that to your suliiriency, as your worth is able, 
 And let them work. The I'lature of our people, 
 Our city's institutions, and the terms 
 For common justice, y" are as pregnant in 
 As art and practice hath enriched any 
 That we remember : There is our commission, 
 From which we would not have you v\-arp. Call 
 
 hither, 
 I say, bid come before us, Angelo. — 
 What figure of us think you he willbear ! 
 For you must know, we have with special soul 
 Elected him our absence to supply ; 
 Lent him our terror, drcst liun with our love, 
 And given his deputations all the organs 
 Of our own power: What think yon of it ^ 
 
 Esc. If any in Vienna be of worth 
 To undergo such ample grace and honor, 
 It is lord .\ngclo. 
 
 Enter Atig^i.o. 
 
 Duke. Look, where he comes. 
 
 Ang. Always obedient to your grace's will, 
 I come to know your pleasure. 
 
 Duke. Angelo, 
 
 There is a kind of character in thy life, 
 That, to th' observer, doth thy history 
 Fully unfold : — Thyself, and thy belongings, 
 Are not thine own so proper, as to waste 
 Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. 
 Heaven doth with us, as we with torclies do. 
 Not light them f)r themselves: for if our virtues 
 Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
 
 6 
 
 As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd 
 
 But to fine issues : nor nature never lends 
 
 The smallest scruple of her excellence, > 
 
 Rut, like a thrifty sjoddcss, she determines 
 
 Herself the glory of a creditor. 
 
 Both thanks and use : but I do bend my speech 
 
 To one tliat can my part in him advertise; 
 
 Hold, therefore, Angelo: 
 
 In our remove, be thou at full ourself ; 
 
 Mortality and mercy in Vienna 
 
 Live in thy tongue and heart : Old Escalus, 
 
 Though first in question, is thy secondary. 
 
 Take thy commission. 
 
 Ang. Now, good my lord, 
 
 Let there be some more test made of my metal, 
 Before so noble ami so great a figure 
 Be stamp'd upon it. 
 
 Duke. No more evasion: 
 
 We have with a leaven'd and prepar'd choice 
 Proceeded to yon ; therefore take your honors. 
 Our haste from hence is of so quick condition. 
 That it prefers itself, and leaves unq\iestion'd 
 Matters of needful value. We shall write to you. 
 As time and our concernings shall imp6rtune. 
 How it goes with us, and do look to know 
 What doth befall you here. So, fare you well : 
 To th" hopeful execution do I leave ybu 
 Of your commissions. 
 
 Aug. Yet, give leave, my lord. 
 
 That we may bring you something on the way. 
 
 Duke. My haste may not admit it; 
 Nor need you. on mine honor, have to do 
 With any scruple : your scope is as mine own. 
 So to enforce or qualify the laws 
 A s to your soul seems good : — Give me your hand : 
 I'll privily away; I love the people. 
 But do not like to stage me to their eyes: 
 Though it do well, I do not relish well 
 Their loud applause, and avei vehement: 
 Nor do 1 think the man of safe discretion 
 That does alli^ct it. Once more, fare you well. 
 
 Ang, The heavens give safety to your purposes . 
 81 
 
S2 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 £.sr. Lead forth. Olid briiiLT you back in happiness! 
 
 Duke. I thank juu.— Fare jou wcIJ. [Exit. 
 
 E>:c. I shall desire you, sir, io gi\e me leave 
 To have free tpeccti wilh you ; and it concerns me 
 To looli into the bottom ol my phice: 
 A power i have, but of what strength and nature, 
 I am not yet ijisLiucted. 
 
 Ang. *Tis so with me: — Let us withdraw to- 
 gether, 
 And we may soon our satisfaction have 
 Touching lliat point. 
 
 £sc. 111 wait upon your iionor- 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.—A Street. 
 
 Enter Lucio, and two Gentlemen. 
 
 Lucio. If the duke, with the other dukes, come 
 rot to composition with tlie king of Hungary, why 
 then :dl the dukes fall upon the king. 
 
 1 <.!':, if. Heaven grant us its peace ; but not the 
 king of Hungary's ! 
 
 2 Gent. Amen. 
 
 Lucio. Tliou concludest like the sanctimonious 
 pirate, that went to sea with the ten commandments, 
 but scraped one out oi the table. 
 
 2 Ge)it. Thou shalt not steal? 
 
 Lucio. Ay. that he razed. 
 
 1 Gent. \Vhy, 'twiis a commandment to com- 
 mand tJie captain and all the rest from their func- 
 tions; they put liirtii to steal : there's not a soldier 
 of us all, that, in tiie thahks;^iving hel'ore meat, doth 
 lehsh the petition well tliat |)rays Inr peace. 
 
 2 Gent. I never heard any sukher dislike it. 
 L'tciii. I believe tliee; tor, 1 think, thou never 
 
 wast where grace was snid. 
 
 2 GL'nf. No7 a dozen times at least. 
 
 1 Gent. What] in metre 1 
 
 Lucin. In any proportion,' or in any language. 
 
 1 Gent. I think, or in any religion. 
 
 Lucio. Ay ! why not ? (^race is grace, despite of 
 all controversy : as. for example, thou thyself art a 
 wicked villain, de^^pite of all grace. 
 
 1 Gent. Well, there went but a pair of sheers 
 between us.* 
 
 Lucio. I grant; as there mil y between the lists 
 and the velvet: thou art tlie list. 
 
 1 Gent. And tJiou the velvet : thou art good vel- 
 vet : thou art a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee : I 
 had as lief be a list of an English kersey, as be 
 pifd, as thou art pil d, for a French velvet."! Do I 
 speak feelingly now 1 
 
 Lucio. 1 think thou dost; and, indeed, with most 
 painful feeling of tliy sjieech: I will, out of thine 
 own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, 
 whilst 1 live, forget to drink after thoc. 
 
 1 Gent. I think I have done myself wrong ; have 
 I not? 
 
 2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art 
 tainted, or free. 
 
 Lucio. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation 
 comes! I have purchased as many diseases under 
 her roof, as come to — 
 
 2 Gent. To what, I pray ? 
 
 1 Gent. Judge. 
 
 2 Gent. To three thousand dollars a year. 
 1 Gent. Ay, and more. 
 
 Lucio. A French crown* more. 
 
 1 Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases in 
 me: but thou art full of error; I am sound. 
 
 Lucio. Nay. not as one would say, healthy, but 
 so sound, as things that are hollow: thy bones ai-e 
 hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee. 
 
 Enter Bawd. 
 
 1 Ge;//. How nnwl Which of your Iiips has the 
 most profound sciatica '^. 
 
 Bau"i. Well, well; there's one yonder, an-eeted, 
 and carried to prison, was worth five thousand of 
 you all. 
 
 1 Gent. Who's that, I pray theel 
 Jiaivd. Marry sir. that's Claudio, Signior Claudio. 
 I Gent. Claudio to i)rison! 'tis not so. 
 Botrd. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him ar- 
 rested ; saw him carried away ; and, which is more, 
 within these tlnce days his head's lobe chopped ofl". 
 I Measure. a.V cut of the sam<^ cloth. 
 
 aA ji^st on the lo^is of h.air by the French disea.se. 
 • Ccn'ona Vcncj-is. 
 
 Lucio But, after iiU this fooling, I would not 
 have it so: art thou sure of this? 
 
 Bawd. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting 
 Madam Julietta witli child. 
 
 Lucio. Believe me, this may be: he promised to 
 meet me two hours since ; and he was ever precise 
 in promise-keeping. 
 
 2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something 
 near to the speech we had to such a purpose. 
 
 1 Gent. But most of all, agreeing with the pro- 
 clamation. 
 
 Lucio. Away; lets go learn the truth of it. 
 
 [Exeunt htcio and Gentlemen. 
 
 Bated. Thus, wdiat with the war, what with tho 
 sweat ;» what wilh the gallows, and what wilh pov- 
 erty, 1 am custom-shrunk. How now! -what's the 
 news with you .' 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clown. Yonder man is carried to prison. 
 
 Bawd, Well ; what has he done ! 
 
 Ctown. A woman. 
 
 Bawd. But what's his offence? 
 
 C/inen. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. 
 
 Biiwd. What, is there a maid with child by himl 
 
 Cl'nrn. No; but there's a wom:in with maid by 
 him: you have not heard of the proclamation, have 
 }■ u ? 
 
 Bawd. What proclamation, man! 
 
 Clown. All houses in the suburbs of 'Vienna 
 must be pluck'd down. 
 
 Baivd. Aiid what shall become of those in the 
 city! 
 
 Clown. They shall stand for seed: thoy had gone 
 down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. 
 
 Bawd. But, shall all our houses of resort in the 
 suburbs be pulled down! 
 
 Vhavn. To the ground, mistress. 
 
 Bawd. Why. here's a change indeed in the com- 
 monwealth: what shall becoriie of me! 
 
 CUnvn. Come, fear not you; good counsellors 
 lack no clients. Though you change your place, 
 you need not change your"trade; I'll be your tap- 
 ster still. Courage ; there will be pity taken on you : 
 you that have w'orn your eyes almost out in the 
 service, you will be considered. 
 
 Baivd. What's to do here'! Thoma-s Tapster, 
 let's withdraw. 
 
 Clown. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the 
 provost to prison: and there's madam Juliet. 
 
 [Exeimf. 
 SCENE Ul.-— Ttie same. 
 
 Enter Provost, CLAvnio, Juliet, and Officers. 
 
 Claud. Fellow, why dost thou sliow me thus 
 to the world. Bear me to prison, where I am 
 conunitted. 
 
 Proc. I do it not in evil disposition, 
 But from lord Angelo by special char^ie. 
 
 Claud. Thus can thedemi-god, Authority, 
 Make us pay down for ourolfence by weight. — 
 The words of heaven; on wliom it will, it will; 
 On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. 
 
 £'??/fr Lrcio. 
 
 Lucio. Why, hovi' now, Claudio] whence comes 
 this restraint ! 
 
 Claud. From too much liberty, my Lucio, lib- 
 erty : 
 As surfeit is the father of much fist, 
 So every scope by the innnoderate use 
 Turns to restraint: Our natures do pursue 
 ( Like rats that ravin down their proper haue) 
 A tiiirsty evil ; and when we drink, we die. 
 
 Lucio. If 1 could speak .so wisely under an .irrest, 
 I would send for certain of my creditors: And yet, 
 to say the truth. 1 had as lief have the foppery of 
 freedom, as the morality of imprisonment. — What's 
 thy od'ence, Claudio ! 
 
 Claud. What, but to speak of would offend again. 
 
 Lxicio. What is it? nmrder'! 
 
 Claud. No. 
 
 Lucio. Lechery 1 
 
 Claud. Call it'so. 
 
 Prov. Away, sir; you must go. 
 
 Claud. One word, good friend : — Lucio, a word 
 with you. [Takes him aside, 
 
 » The SATcating EickncsB. 
 
ScEXE 1^1 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 83 
 
 hnci'i- A liuiitlrcil, li'tlicy'li do you any good. 
 Is lechery so loOf\ d aitt-r i 
 
 Ciuud. Idus stands il with me; — Upon a true 
 contract, 
 I ^ot posses..:io!i of Julietta's bed ; 
 You know the hidy ; she is last iny wife, 
 Save tliat we do the denunciation lack 
 Of outward order; this we came nut to, 
 Only for propitiation of a dower 
 Remaining in the coder of her friends; 
 From whom we thoujjlit it meet to hide our love, 
 Tih time had made them for us. But it chances. 
 The stealth of our most mutual intercourse, 
 With character too i^ross, is writ on Juliet. 
 
 Liicio. With child, perhaps ! 
 
 Claud. Unhappily, even so. 
 And the new deputy now for the duke, — 
 Whether it be the fault and glimijse of newness; 
 Or whether that the body public be 
 A horse whereon the governor doth ride, 
 \Vho newly in the scat, that it may know 
 He can command, let's it straight teei tlie spiar: 
 Whether the tyranny be in his place, 
 ()r in his eminence that lills it up, 
 1 stagger in; — liut this new governor 
 Awakes me all tlie unrolled penalties, 
 Wliich have, like unscoured armor, hung by the 
 
 wall 
 So long, that nineteen zodiacs have gone round. 
 And none of them been worn; and tor a name, 
 Now puts the drowsy and neglected act 
 Freshly on me; — 'tis, surely, lor a name. 
 • Luciu. I warrant, it is: and thy li-iad stands so 
 tickle on thy shoulders, that a mdk-maid, if she be 
 in love, may sigh it otl". Send afler tlie duke, and 
 appeal to hiin. 
 
 Claud. I have done so, but lies not to be found. 
 I pr'ythce, Lucio, do me this kiiul service: 
 This day my sister should tlie cloister enter, 
 And there receive her approbation,: 
 Acquaint her with the danger of my state; 
 Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends 
 To the stric. deputy : bid herself assay him; 
 I have great hope in that; for in her youth 
 There is a prone and speechless dialect, 
 Such as moves men ; beside, she hath prosperous art 
 When she will play with reason and discourse. 
 And well she can persuade- 
 
 Lucio. I pray, she may: as well for the encour- 
 agement of the like, which else would stand under 
 grievous imposition; as for the enjoying of thy life, 
 who I would be sorry should be thus Ibolishly lost 
 at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. 
 
 Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. 
 
 LucUi. Within two hours, — 
 
 Claud. Come, ollicer, away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Monaslery. 
 
 Enter Duke and Friar Tuom.is. 
 
 Buke. No ; holy father ; throw away that thought ; 
 lieLeve not that the ilribbling dart of love 
 Can pierce a complete bosom; why 1 desire thee 
 To give me secret harbor, hath a purpose 
 More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends 
 Of burning youth. 
 
 Fi-i. May your grace speak of it 7 
 
 Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you 
 How I have ever lovd the life remov'd; 
 And held in idle price to haunt assemblies. 
 Where youth and cost, and ivitless bravery keeps. 
 I have deliverd to lord Angelo 
 (A man of stricture and linn abstinence) 
 My absolute power and place here in Vienna, 
 And he supposes me travell'd to Poland ; 
 For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, 
 < And so it is receiv'd: Now. pious sir. 
 You will demand of me, why 1 do this? 
 
 Fri. Gladly, my lord. 
 
 Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting 
 laws, 
 (The needful bits and curbs for headstrong steeds,) 
 Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep ; 
 Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave. 
 That goes not out to prey : Now. as fund fathers 
 Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, 
 Only to stick itiy their children's sight, 
 For terror, not to use ; in time the rod 
 
 Becomes more mock'd than fcar'd; so our decrees, 
 Dead to iniliction. to themselves are dead; 
 And liberty plucks justice by the nose; 
 'I'hc baiiy beats the nurse, and quite atliwart 
 Goes all decorum. 
 
 Fri. It rested in your grace 
 
 To unloose tiiis tied-uj) justice when you pleas'd; 
 .\ud it in you more dreadful would have seem'd. 
 Than in lord Angelo. 
 
 Duke. I do fear, too dreadful: 
 
 Sith 'twas my fault, to gi\e the people scope, 
 'Twould bo my tyranny to strike, and gall them 
 For what I bid them do : For we bid this be done. 
 When evil deeds have their permissive pass. 
 And not tlie punisliment. Therefore, indeed, my 
 
 father, 
 I have on Angelo imposed the ofTice; 
 Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home. 
 And yet my nature never in the sight. 
 To do it slander: And to behold his sway, 
 I will, as "twere a brother of your order. 
 Visit both prince and people; therefore, I pr'ylliee. 
 Supply me with the habit, and instruct me 
 How 1 may formally in person bear nic 
 Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, 
 At our more leisure sliall I render jou; 
 Only, this one : — Lord .\ngelo is precise ; 
 Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses 
 That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
 Is more to bread than stone : Hence shall we see, 
 If power change purpose, what qur seemers be. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Y.— A Nunnery. 
 Enter Isabella and Fraxcisca. 
 
 I^ab. And have you nuns no further privileges? 
 
 Fran. Arc not these large enough 1 
 
 I.-ah. Yes. truly: 1 speak not as desiring more; 
 But rather wishing a more strict restraint 
 Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of saint Clare. 
 
 Lucio. Ho ! Peace be in this place ! | IVilkin 
 
 hah. Who's that which calls ? 
 
 Fran. It is a man's voice : Gentle Isabelka. 
 Turn you the key, and know his business of him; 
 You niay, I may not; you are yet unsworn : 
 When J ou have vowed, you must not speak witli 
 
 men. 
 But in the presence of the prioress: 
 Then, if you speak, you must not show your face ; 
 Or if you show yonr liice. you must not speak. 
 He calls again; 1 pray you answer him. 
 
 [Exit KnANCiscA. 
 
 Isab. Peace and prosperity ! Who is't that calls? 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 Lucin. Hail, vir::in, if you he; as tho.^e cheek-roses 
 Proclaim you are nf» less ! Can you so stead rac. 
 As bring me to the sight of Isabella. 
 A novice of this place, and the fair sister 
 To her unhappy brother Claudio ] 
 
 Isah. Why licr unhappy brother? let me ask; 
 The rather, i'ox I, now must make you know 
 I am that Isabella, and his sister. 
 
 Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets 
 yon ; 
 Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. 
 
 J.iah. Woe me! For what? 
 
 Lucio. For that which if myself might be his 
 judge. 
 He should receive his punishment in thanks: 
 He hath got his friend with child. 
 
 Imh. Sir, make me not your story .« 
 
 Lucin. It is true. 
 
 I would not — thoush 'tis my fiimiliar sin 
 \V ith maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest. 
 Tongue far from heart,— play with all virgins so. 
 I hold you as a thing ensky'd. and sainted; 
 By yoiir renouncement an immortal spirit; 
 Ami to be talked with in sincerity, 
 As with a saint. 
 
 /va'>. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. 
 
 Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth,' 
 'tis thus: 
 Your brother and his lover have embraced : 
 As those that feed grow full ; as blossoming time, 
 That from the secd'ness the bare fallow brings 
 G Do not make a jest of me, 
 ' In few and true words. 
 
84 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 To teemLng foisoii;' even so her plenteous womb 
 Expresseth his fall tilth- and has^iaiidry. 
 
 isab. Seine one with cluld by lianl— My cousin 
 Juliet ! 
 
 Lucia. Is she your cousin'! . 
 
 Isat). Adoptedly: as school-maids change theur 
 names, 
 By vain tliou^h apt affection. 
 
 Liiciii. Slie It IS. 
 
 J.SU&. O, let him marry her ! 
 
 l,ucm. This IS the point. 
 
 The duke is very strangely gone from lieuce ; 
 Bore many gentlemen, myself being one. 
 In hand, and hope of action : but we do learn 
 By those that know the very nerves of state, 
 His iivings-out were of an inlinite distance 
 Froiii Ins true-meant design. Upon his place, 
 And with full line of liis authority, 
 Governs lord .\ngelo ; a man, whose blood 
 Is very snow-broth; one who never feels 
 The wanton stings and motions of the sense ; 
 But doth rebate and blunt liis natural edge 
 With profits of the mind, study and fast. 
 He (to give fear to use and liberty, 
 Wliich have, for long, run by the hideous law, 
 As mice by lions) hath pick'd out an act, 
 Under whose heavy sense your brothers life 
 Falls into forfeit! he arrests him on it ; 
 And follows close the rigor of the statute, 
 
 To make him an example : all hope is gone. 
 Unless you have the grace by your tiiir prayer 
 To soften .\ngelo: And tliats my pith 
 Of business twixt you and your poor brother. 
 
 liah. Dotli he so seek his life ! 
 
 Litcio. Has censur'd' him 
 
 Already ; and, as I hear, the provost hath 
 A warrant for his execution. 
 
 Isuh. Alas! what poor abihty's in me 
 To do him good ! 
 
 Lucio, Assay the power you have. 
 
 Isab. My power! Alas! 1 doubt, — 
 
 Lucio. our doubts are traitors, 
 
 And make us lose the good we oft raiglit win, 
 By fearing to attempt; (Jo to lord Angelo, 
 And let him learn to know, when mafdens sue, 
 Men give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel. 
 All tlicir petitions are as freely theirs 
 As they themselves would owC them. 
 
 I.sab. I'll see what 1 can do. 
 
 I.ucio. But speedily. 
 
 J.va'j. I will about it straight: 
 No longer staying but to give the mother 
 Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you: 
 Commend me to my brother: soon at night 
 I'll send him certain word of my success. 
 
 Lucio. 1 take my leave of you. 
 
 jsab. Good sir, adieu* 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 ' SCENE \.~A Hallin Anze\os House. 
 
 Enter Akgilo, Escaius, Provost, Officers, a>;d 
 other Attendants. 
 
 Aug. We must not make a scare-crow of tlie 
 law. 
 Setting it up to fear tlic birds of prey, 
 And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
 Their perch and not their tciTor. 
 
 E.'icul. Ay, but yet 
 
 Let us be keen, and rather cut a little. 
 Than fall, and bruise to death: Alas! this gentle- 
 man. 
 Whom I would save, had a most noble fatliej. 
 Let but your honor know, 
 (Whom I believe to be most straight in virtue,) 
 That, in tlie working of your own affections. 
 Had time coher'd with place, or idace with wishing. 
 Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
 Could have attaind the ellect of your own purpose. 
 Whether you had not some lime in your hte 
 Err'd in this point which now you censure Inm, 
 And puil'd the law upon you. 
 
 Ang. 'lis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, 
 Another thing to fall. 1 not deny. 
 The jury, passing on tlie prisoners hfe. 
 May, in the sworn twelve, have a Uiietor two 
 Guiltier than him they try: What's open made to 
 
 justice. 
 That justice seizes. What know the laws. 
 That thieves do pass on thieves! "I'lsvery pregnant. 
 The jewel that we hnd, we stoop and take it, 
 Because we see it ; but what we do not sec. 
 We tread upon and never think of it. 
 You may not so extenuate his oll'ence, 
 ]''ora I have had such faults; but rather tell me. 
 When 1 that censure him, do so otli?nd. 
 Let mine own judgment pattern out my death. 
 And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. 
 K^cal. Be it as your wisdom will. 
 Ant!;. Wliere is tlie provost! 
 
 I'rue. Here, if it like -your honor. 
 A>ig. See that Claudio 
 
 Be executed by nine to-morrow morning : 
 Bring him liis confessor. It t him be prejiared: 
 For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. 
 
 [Kxeunt Anuei.o and Provost. 
 Escal. Well, heaven forgive hira ; and forgive us 
 all! 
 « Breeding plenty. ' Tilling. a BOcauso. 
 
 Kome rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: 
 
 Some run from brakes' of vice, and answer none ; 
 
 And some condemned for a fault alone. 
 
 Enter EiBOW, Froth, Clown, Officers, &c. 
 
 Elh. Come, bring them away : if these be good 
 people in a common weal,' that do nothing but use 
 their abuses in common houses, I know no law; 
 bring them away. 
 
 Ang. How now, sir! what s your name! and 
 what's the matter! 
 
 Elh. If it please your honor. I am the poor duke 3 
 constable, and my name is Elbow; I do lean upon 
 justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good 
 honor two notorious benefactors. 
 
 Ang. Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are 
 they ! are they not malefactors! 
 
 Klh. If it please your honor, I know not well 
 what they are: but precise villains they are, that I 
 am sure of; and void of all profanation in the 
 world, that good christians ought to have. 
 
 Exc'ul. This comes oil w^ell;« here's a wise officer. 
 
 Ang. Goto: what quality are they of ! Elbow 
 is Vour name 1 Why dost thou not speak. Elbow 1 
 
 Clo. He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. 
 
 j4h2-. What are you, sir! 
 
 i'/ft. He, sir! a tap.ster, sir; parcel' bawd: one 
 that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as 
 they say, pliickd down in the suburbs; and now 
 she' professes' a hot-house, which, I think, is a very 
 ill house too. 
 
 £«a'. How know you Oiat ! 
 
 Elb. My wife, sir, who.ii I detest' before heaven 
 and your honor, — 
 
 £«■«/. How! thy wife! 
 
 Elb. Ay, sir; whom, 1 thank heaven, is an honest 
 woman,^ 
 
 Excal. Dost thou detest her therefore 7 
 
 Elli. 1 say. sir, I will detest myself also, as well 
 as she. that "this house, if it be not a bawd's house, 
 it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. 
 
 Escal. How dost thou know that, constable! 
 
 Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who. if she had 
 been a woman cardinally given, might ha\e !)eeii 
 accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanli- 
 ness there. 
 
 Escal. By the woman's means ! 
 
 Klb. Ay, sir, by mistress Over-done's means: but 
 
 I Sentenced, a Have. « Thickets, thorny paths of vice. 
 
 •Wealth. •'Well told. ' Partly. 
 
 " Keeps a blgnio. ' Tor protest. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 83 
 
 as --lie spit in liis face, so slin (ietleti him. 
 
 Ctu. Sir, if it please your l)onor, this is not so. 
 
 Elb. I'rove itliefore these varlets here, thou hon- 
 ornbie man, prove it. 
 
 Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces? 
 
 \To Avr.r.LO. 
 
 Cto. Sir, she came in great with rliild ; and lon^- 
 ins (saving your honors reverence) for stew'd 
 prunes; sir, we had but two in the house, which at 
 that very distant time stood ns it were, in a fruit- 
 dish, a dish of some three-pence : your honors have 
 seen sncli dishes; they are not china dishes, but 
 very good dishes. 
 
 Kscal. Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. 
 
 Cln. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin ; you are tlicre- 
 fore in the ri^ht; hut, to tlie point: as 1 say, this 
 mistress Klbow, being, as I say, witli cliild, and be- 
 ing great bellv'd.and longing.as I said, for prunes; 
 arid liaving but two in the dish, as 1 said, master 
 Frolii here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as 
 I said, and, as I say, paying fortlicm very honestly ; 
 — for. as you know, master Krotli, I could not give 
 you three-pence again. 
 
 Froth. No, indeed. 
 
 Cln. Very well : you hcing then, if you be re- 
 membcr'd, cracking the stones of the 'foresaid 
 prunes. 
 
 Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed. 
 
 Cln. Why, very well: I telling you then, if you 
 be remeniber'd, that such a one, and such a one, 
 were past cure of the thing you wot of. unless they 
 kept very good diet, as I told you. 
 
 Frnlh. All this is true. 
 
 cm. Why, very well then. 
 
 Exral. Come, you are a tedious fnol: to the pur- 
 pose.— What was done to Klbow's wife, that he 
 hnth cause to complain of ! Come me to what was 
 done to her. 
 
 Ctn. Sir, your honor cannot come to that yet. 
 
 Escal. No, sir. nor I mean it not. 
 
 Ctn. Sir. but you shall con\e to it, by your honor's 
 leave: and I beseech you. look into master Froth 
 here, sir ; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose 
 father died at Hallowmas: — Wast not at Hallow- 
 mas, master I'roth ? 
 
 Frotti. ,\ll-hollondi eve. 
 
 Ctn. Why, very well: I hope here be truths: 
 he, sir, sitting, as "I say, in a lower' chair, sir; — 
 'twas in the Bunch of Grn;iM, where, indeed, you 
 have a deli'-'ht to sit : "have you not 1 
 
 Froth. 1 have so; because it is an open room, 
 and good tor winter. 
 
 Cto. Why, very well then;— I hope here be 
 truths. 
 
 ylng. This will last out a night in Russia, 
 When nights are lonirest there: I'll take my leave, 
 And leave you to the hearing of the cau.se; 
 Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip tJiem all. 
 
 Escut. ] think no less: good morrow to your 
 lordship. [Exit A>c,i,i.o. 
 
 Now. sir, come on : what was done to Elbow's wife, 
 once more'* 
 
 Cln. Once, sir! there was nothing done to her 
 once. 
 
 Etb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man 
 did to my wife? 
 
 Ctn. 1 beseech your honor, ask me. 
 
 Escal. Well, sir: what did this gentleman to her? 
 
 Clo. I beseech vou, sir. look in this gentleman's 
 face: — Good master Froth, look upon his honor; 
 'tis for a good purpose: doth your honor mark his 
 face ? 
 
 Escal. Ay. sir, very well. 
 
 Ctn. Nay. I beseech you, mark it well. 
 
 Escal Well. I do so. 
 
 Ctn. Doth your honor see any harm in his face'! 
 
 Escal. Why, no. 
 
 Cln. I'll bo suppos'd^ upon a book, his face is 
 Ihe wor.et thing about him: good then; if his face 
 be the worst thing about him. how could master 
 Froth do Ihe constable's wife any harm? I would 
 know that of your honor. 
 
 Escal. He's in the right: constable, what say you 
 toil? 
 
 Elb. First, an it like you, the house is a respected 
 house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his 
 mistress is a respected woman. 
 
 ■ Eve fAU Saints (lay. a EtLsy 
 
 8 Deposed, STVom- 
 
 Clti. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more res- 
 pected person than any of us all. 
 
 Elb. \arlet, thou licst ; thou liest, wicked varlct: 
 the time is yet to come, that she was ever respect- 
 ed with man. woman, or child. 
 
 Cto. Sir. she was respected with him before he 
 married with her. 
 
 Escal. Which is the wiser here? justice or ini- 
 quity I' Is this true? 
 
 Klh. O thou caititf ! O thou varlet! O thoti wick- 
 ed Hannibal!' I respected with her. before I was 
 married to her? If ever I was respected with her, 
 or she with me, let not your worship think me the 
 poor duke's ofiicer: — prove this, thou wicked Han- 
 nibal, or Fll have mine action of battery on thee. 
 
 Escal. If he took you a box o' the car, you 
 might have vour actioii of slander too. 
 
 Elb. IMarry. I thank your good worship for it: 
 what is't your worship's pleasure I should do with 
 this wicked caititf? 
 
 Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some of- 
 fences in him, that thou wouldst discover if thou 
 couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou 
 know'st what they are. 
 
 £/4^Marry. I lliank your worship for it: — thou 
 sccst, mou wicked varlet now, what's come upon 
 thee ; thou art to continue now, thou varlct ; tiiou 
 art to continue. 
 
 Escal. Where were you bom. friend? 
 
 {To FnoTH. 
 
 Froth. Here, in Vienna, sir. 
 
 Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? 
 
 Froth. Yes, and 't please you, sir. 
 
 Escat. So. — What trade are you of. sir ! 
 
 |T»//ic Clown. 
 
 Clo. A tapster: a poor widow's tapster. 
 
 K'-cat. >'our mistress's name? 
 Ctii. Mistress Over-done. 
 
 Escal. Hath she had any more than one hus- 
 band '. • 
 
 Cto. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last. 
 
 Escal. Nine ! — Come hither to me, master Froth, 
 Master Froth, I would not have you acquainteil 
 with tapsters; they will draw you, master Froth, 
 and you will hangthem: get you gone, and let me 
 hear no more of you. 
 
 Fnilh. I thank your worship: for mine own part, 
 I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am 
 drawn in. 
 
 Esenl. Well ; no more of it, master Froth: fare- 
 well. [Eril Fiioiii.l — Come you hither to me 
 master tapster ; what's your name, master tapster ! 
 
 Ctn. Pomiiey. 
 
 E.vat. Wliai else? 
 
 Clo. Bum, sir. 
 
 Escal. 'Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing 
 about you ; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are 
 Pompey the great. Pompey, you are p;irtly a 
 bawd. Pompey. howsoever you color it in being a 
 tapster. Are you not? conie, tell me true ; it shall 
 be the better for you. 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that would 
 live. • , , . 
 
 Escal. How would you live, Pompey 7 by being 
 a bawd ? What do you think of the trade, Pom- 
 pey ? is it a lawful trade '. 
 
 Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. 
 Escal. But Ihe law will not allow it, Pompey; 
 nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. 
 
 Cto. Does your worship mean to geld and spay 
 all the youth in the city ? 
 
 Esca'. No. Pompey. 
 
 Ctn- Trulv. sir. in mv poor opinion. Iliey will 
 to 't then : if your worship will take orders for tho 
 drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the 
 bawds. 
 
 Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can 
 tell you : it is but headitur and haneing, 
 
 Cin. If you head and hang all that offend that 
 way but for ten years together, you'll be glad to 
 give out a commission for more beads. If this law 
 hold in V ieniia ten years, I'll rent the fairest house 
 in it, after three-pence a day : if you live to see 
 Ibis come to pass, sav Pompe'v told you so. 
 
 Esrat. Thank vou, good Pompey: and, in re- 
 quital of your prophecy, hark you, — I advise you, 
 let me not find you before me again upon any com- 
 « Constable or Clown. > For cannil-al. 
 
 6 MoasuEcs. 
 
86 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 plaint (vhataocTer. no, not for dwelling wlipre you 
 do: If 1 do, Ponipcy, I shi\ll beat you to your tent, 
 and prove a shrewd Cajsar to you ; in plain deal- 
 ing, I'ompey, 1 sliall liave you wliipt: so for tliis 
 time, Pompcy, fare you well. 
 
 Ctn. \ thank your worship for your sood coun- 
 sel ; but I sliall follow it as the tiesh and fortune 
 shall better determine. 
 
 Whip me ! No, no ; let carman wiiip his jade ; 
 The valiant heart's not wliipt out of his trade. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 E.ical. Come hither to me, master Elbow ; come 
 hither, master Con.stable. How long have you been 
 in this place of constable? 
 
 £lb. Seven years and a half, sir. 
 
 Esm/. 1 thought, by your readiness in the office, 
 you had continued in it some time: You say, seven 
 years toirether ? 
 
 E/f>. .ind a half, sir. 
 
 Esca!. Alas! it hath Ir.'cn grreat pains to you! 
 They do you wrouK to put you so oft upon "t: Are 
 there not men in your ward sullicient to serve it ! 
 
 Elli. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: 
 as they are chosen, they are glad to choose inc for 
 them. I do it for some piece of money, and go 
 through with all. » 
 
 Esail. Look you, bring me in the names of some 
 six or seven of the most sutticient of your parish. 
 
 Elb, To your worship's house, sir J 
 
 EscnI. To ray house: Fare you well. [Exit. 
 Elbow.] What's o'clock, think you. 
 
 Jit.it. Kleven, sir. 
 
 Esrcd. I pray you home to dinner with me. 
 
 Just. I humbly thank you. 
 
 E.scaL It grieves me for the death of Claudio; 
 But there's no remedy. 
 
 Ju.i/. Lord Angelo is severe. 
 
 Escal. It is but needful: 
 
 Mercy is not itself that oft looks so. 
 Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. 
 But yet, poor Claudio ! — There's no remedy. 
 Come, sir. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. — Anoiticr Room in ftie same. 
 
 Enter Provost and a Servant. 
 
 Sen. He's liearing of a cause ; lie will come 
 straight. 
 I'll tell him of you. 
 
 Pmi: Pray you do. \Exit. Servant.] I'll know 
 His pleasure; may be, he will relent: Alas, 
 He hath but as ollended in a dream ! 
 All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he 
 To die for it ! 
 
 Enter Axgelo. 
 
 Ang. Now what's the matter. Provost' 
 
 Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-mor- 
 row? 
 
 Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea'! hadst thou not 
 order ? 
 Wliy dost thou ask again 
 
 Proi\ Lest I might he too rash : 
 
 Under your good correetion, I have seen, 
 When, after execution, judgment hath 
 Repented o'er his doom. 
 
 -4"?. Go to; let that be mine. 
 
 Do your office, or s;ive up your place. 
 And you shall well be spaf'd. 
 
 Prov. I crave your honor's pardon. — 
 What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet! 
 She's very near her hour. 
 
 Ang. Dispose of her 
 
 To some more fitter ])lace; and that with .speed. 
 Jic-entcr Scr\'ant. 
 
 Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd 
 Desires access to you. 
 
 Ang. Hath he a sister? 
 
 Prov. Ay, my good lord ; a very virtuous maid, 
 And to be shortly of a sisterhood, 
 If not already. 
 
 ^ng. Well, let her he admitted. 
 
 , , . {Exit Servant 
 
 See you. the fornicatress beremov'd; 
 Let lier have needful, but not lavish, means; 
 There shall be order for it. 
 
 Enter Licio and Isabella. 
 
 Pra». Save your honor ! [Offering to retire. 
 
 ' .Ing. Stay a little while.— JTo Istn.) You are 
 welcome : What s your will '.' 
 hub. I am a woeful suiior to your honor : 
 Please but your honor hear me. 
 Ang. Well ; what's your suit? 
 
 Imb. There is a vice that most 1 do ablior. 
 And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; 
 For which I would not plead, but that I must; 
 For which I must not plead, but that I am 
 At war, twixt will, and will not. 
 ■Ang. Well ; the natter ! 
 
 hub. I have a brother is condemned to die- 
 I do beseech you, let it be his fault, 
 And not my brother. 
 
 ■ Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces . 
 
 Ang. Condemn the fiuilt and not the actor of it! 
 Why, every fault's condemned, ere it be done: 
 Mine were the very cipher of a function. 
 To line the faults, whose fine stands in record, 
 And let go by the actor. 
 
 hiitr. O just, but severe law ! 
 
 I bad a brother then. — Heaven keep your honor! 
 
 [Retiring, 
 Litcw. ITolSAE.] Give 't not o'er so: to him 
 again, intreat him ; 
 Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ; 
 Y'ou are too cold ; if you shoulcf need a pin 
 You could not wilji more lame a tongue desire it: 
 To him, 1 say. 
 Isab- Must he needs die ? 
 
 Ang. Maiden, no remedy. 
 
 Isab. Y'es ; I do think that you might pardon him, 
 And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy. 
 Ang. 1 will not do 't. 
 
 Iiab. But yon can, if you would? 
 
 Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. 
 Isab. Hut might you do't, and do the world no 
 wrong? 
 If so, your heart were touch'd with that remorse 
 As mine is to him. 
 Ang. He's sentenced: 'tis too late. 
 
 Liicio. Y'ou are too cold. [To Isabella. 
 
 Isab. Too late ? why, no ; I, that do speak a word. 
 May call it back again: Well believe this, 
 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs. 
 Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword. 
 The marshall's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
 Become them with one half so good a grace. 
 As mercy does. If he had been as you. 
 And you as he, you would have slipt like him; 
 But he, like you, would not have been so stern. 
 Ang. Pray >'ou, begone. 
 Lab. I would to heaven I had your potency, 
 And you were Isabel? should it then be thus? 
 No ; i would tell what 'twere to be a judge, 
 And what a prisoner. 
 Lneio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein, [Aside. 
 Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, 
 And you but waste your words. 
 
 hub. Alas? alas! 
 
 Why. nil the souls that were, were forfeit once: 
 .^nd He that might the vantage best have took, 
 F'ound out the remedy: How would you be. 
 If He, which is the top of judgment, should 
 But judge you as you are?' O, think on that ; 
 And mercy tlien will breathe within your lips. 
 Like man new made. 
 
 Ang. Be you content, fair maid; 
 
 It is the law. not I, condemns your brother : 
 Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son. 
 It should be thus Avith him: — he must die to-mor- 
 row. 
 Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden T Sparc him, 
 si)are him : 
 He's not piepar'd for death ! Even for our kitchens 
 We kill the fowl of season ; shall we serve heaven 
 With less respect than we do minister 
 To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink 
 
 you : 
 Who is it that hath died for this offence ? 
 There's many have committed it. 
 lucio. Av, well said. 
 
 Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath 
 slept: 
 Those many liad not dar'd to do that evil. 
 If the first liian that did the edict infringe. 
 Had answer d for his deed : now, 'tis awake; 
 Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, 
 Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils 
 (Either now, or by remissness new-conceived, 
 
bC£NE 
 
 IV. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 87 
 
 And so in progress tobe hatcli'd and born) 
 Arc iiow to luive no biicci'ssive decrees, 
 •But, vviicre tiicy live, to end. 
 
 /s/i. Yet show some pity. 
 
 Aug. I show it most of all, when I show justice; 
 For then I pily those I do not know. 
 Which a dismiss d offence would afler Rail ; 
 And do him ri^iit, that answering one I'oul wrong, 
 Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; 
 Vour hrotlier dies ti>-iiiorrovv ; he content. 
 
 Isab, t^o you must he the first that gives this sen- 
 tence ; 
 And he, that sulTers: O, it is excellent 
 To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
 To use it lite a giant. 
 
 Lucio, Tliat's well said. 
 
 Jxati. Could great men thunder 
 As Jove himselfdoes, Jove would ne'er be quiet. 
 For every pelting,' petty ollicer, 
 Would use his heaven for tliundor; nothing but 
 
 thunder. — 
 Merciful heaven! 
 
 'i'hou rather, witli tliy sharp and sulphurous bolt, 
 Spht'st the unwedgeable and knarled* oak, 
 Than the soft.myrtle ;— (), but man, proud man ! 
 Drest in a little brief authority. 
 Most ignorant of what lie's most assur'd. 
 His glassy essence, — like an angry ape. 
 Plays such fantastic tricks before higli heaven. 
 As make the angels weep: who, with our spleens, 
 Would all themselves bugh mot'tal. 
 
 Liicin. o, to him, to him, wench: he will relent; 
 He's corning, I perceive't. 
 
 Proe. Pray heaven, she win him ! 
 
 Isab- We cannot wei:;h our brother with ourself : 
 Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; 
 But, in tile less, foul prolanation. 
 
 Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, sirl ; more o' that. 
 
 Isab. That in the captains but a choleric word, 
 Which in the soldier is llat blasphemy. 
 
 Lucio. Art advisd o' that ? more on't. 
 
 Ailg. Why do you put these sayings upon me'! 
 
 Isab. Because authority, though it err like others. 
 Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself. 
 That skins the vice o' the top : Go to your bosom ; 
 Knock there ; and ask your heart, what it doth know 
 That's like my brother's fault: if it confess 
 A natural guiltiness, such as is his. 
 Let it not sound a thouslit upon your tongue 
 Against my brothers life. 
 
 Ang. She speaks, and 'tis 
 
 Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. — Fare 
 you well. 
 
 Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. 
 
 Ang. I will bethink me: — Come again to-mor- 
 row. 
 
 Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord, 
 turn back. 
 
 Ang. How, bribe mc '. 
 
 Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share 
 with you. 
 
 Lucio. V'ou had marr'd all else. 
 
 Isub. Not with fond shekels of the tested" gold 
 Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor. 
 As fancy values them : but with true prayers. 
 That shall be up at heaven, and enter there, 
 Kre sun-rise ; prayers from presjrvcdi souls. 
 From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate 
 To nothing temporal. 
 
 Aug. Well; come to me 
 
 To-morrow. 
 
 Lucio. Goto: it is well ; away. [Asirle to Isxn. 
 
 Isab. Heaven keep your honor safe ! 
 
 Aiie. Amen: fori 
 
 Am that way going to temptation, [Aside. 
 
 Where prayers cross. 
 
 Isab. At what hour to-morrow ■ 
 
 Shall I attend your lordship ! 
 
 Ang. At any time 'forenoon. 
 
 Isab. Save your honor ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lrcio, Isabella, and Provost. 
 
 Ang. From thee ; even from thy virtue ! — 
 
 What'sthis'! what's this! Is this her fault or mine 7 
 The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most ! ha ! 
 Not she ; nor doth she tempt : But it is I, 
 That lying by the violet, in t!ie sun. 
 Do, as the'carrion does, not as the flower. 
 Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, 
 
 1 Paltry. 8 Knotted. » Stamped. 
 
 . t Preserved froai the corruption of the world. 
 
 j That modesty may more betray our sense 
 'I'han woman's li^hlucss! Having waste ground 
 
 enough. 
 Shall we desirelo raze the sanctuary. 
 And pitch ou.- evils there ! (>, lye, lye. fye! 
 \\ hat dost thou ^ or what art tliuu, Ange.o ! 
 l-)ost thou desire her I'ouUy, liir those things 
 That make her :iood ! (i, let her brother live: 
 Thieves for their robbery have authorit)-. 
 When judges steal themselves. What ! do I loveher. 
 That 1 desire to hear her speak again, 
 And feast upon her eyes ! What is 1 1 dream on'.' 
 
 cunning enemy, that to catch a saint. 
 
 With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangcrotis 
 Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 
 To sin in loving virtue ; never could the strumpet 
 With all her double vigor, art, and nature. 
 Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid 
 Subdues me quite ; — Kver, till now. 
 When men were fond, 1 suul'd, and wonder'd how. 
 
 IKxit. 
 
 SCE.NE lU.— ARoorn in a Prison. 
 
 Enter Dcke, Itabited Wee a Friar, and Provost. 
 
 Viike. Hail to you, provost! sol think you are. 
 I'rui: 1 am the provost: What's your will, good 
 
 friar ? 
 Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order, 
 
 1 come to visit the alllicted spirits 
 
 Here in the prison: do me the common rigiit 
 To let me see them ; and to make me know 
 The nature of tiieir crimes, that 1 may minister 
 To them accordingly. 
 I'roD. 1 would 00 more than that, if more were 
 needi'ul. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Look, here comes one ; a gentlewoman of mine, 
 Who, f.dhng in the flames ol' her own youth, 
 Hath blister d her report: She is with child; 
 And he that got it. sentenced : a young man 
 More lit to do another such olli^mce, 
 Than die for this. 
 
 Diilie. When must he die 1 
 
 I'rui: As I do think, lo-morrow. — 
 I have provided for you; stay awhde, [To Juliet. 
 .\nd you shall be conducted. 
 
 Duke. Repent you, lair one, of the sin you carry ■! 
 
 Juiitt. Ido; and bear the shame most patiently. 
 
 Duke. Ill teach you how you sliall arraign your 
 conscience. 
 And try your penitence, if it be sound. 
 Or hollowly put on. 
 
 Julicl. Ml gladly learn. 
 
 T)uke. Love you the man that wrong'd you? 
 
 Jutiet. Yes, as 1 love the woman that wrong'd him. 
 
 Dake. So then, it seems, your most ollencelul act 
 Was mutually eomnntted ! 
 
 Juliet. Mutually. 
 
 Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. 
 
 Juliet. 1 do confess it, and repent it, father. 
 
 Duke. Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do 
 repent. 
 As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, — 
 Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not 
 
 heaven ; 
 Showing, we'd not spare heaven, as we love it, 
 But as we stand in tear. 
 
 Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil ; 
 And take the shame with joy. 
 
 Duke. There rest. 
 
 Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow. 
 And 1 am going with instruction to him. — 
 Grace go with jou I JltneUu-ile ! [Exit. 
 
 Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love, 
 That resjiites me a lite, whose very comlbrt 
 Is still a dying horror ! 
 
 rroL\ 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. — A Room in Angelo's /iouse. 
 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and 
 pray 
 To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words; 
 'iVhilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 
 Anchors ou Isabel: Heaven in my moutli. 
 As tf I did but only chew Iiis name; 
 i And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil 
 
88 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Of my conception: The state, whereon I studied, 
 Is like a good thin:;, heins often read, 
 Grown feard and tedious; yea. my gravity, 
 Wlierein (let no man hear me) I taKe pride, 
 I'onld I. with boot.' eliangc lor an idle plume, 
 Which the air beats for Vain. O place; () form! 
 How often dost thou with thy case, thy liabit, 
 AVrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
 To thy false seeming! IJlood, thou still art blood: 
 Let's write good angel on the devil's horn 
 'Tis not the devil's crest. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 ITow now, who's there? 
 
 Scrv. One Isabel, a sister, 
 
 Desires access to you. 
 
 Aug. Teach her the way. [Exit Serv. 
 
 O heavens! 
 
 Why does my blood thus muster to my heart; 
 Making both it unable for itself, 
 And dispossessing all the other parts 
 Of necessary fitness 1 
 
 .So play the 'foolish throngs with one that swoons ; ■ 
 Come all to help him, and so stop the air 
 By which he should revive: and even so 
 The general." suliject to a well-wish'ri king. 
 Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness 
 Crowd to his presence, wliere their untaught love 
 ]\Iust needs appear olTence. 
 
 Enier Isabella. 
 
 How now, fair maid ! 
 Isab. 1 am come to know your pleasure. 
 
 Ang. That you might know it, would much bet- 
 ter please me. 
 Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot 
 live. 
 Isab' Even so ! — Heaven keep your honor! 
 
 \Retiring. 
 Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be 
 As long as you or I : Yet he must die. 
 /s«^. Under your sentence ! 
 Alts. Yea. 
 
 Imb. When1 I beseech you'! tlint in his reprieve. 
 Longer, or shorter, he may be so hlted. 
 Thai his soul sicken not. 
 
 Ang. Ha ! fye, these filthy vices! It were as good 
 To ])ardon him, that hath from nature stolen 
 A man already made, as to remit 
 Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image. 
 In stamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy 
 Falsely to take away a life true made, 
 .\s to put mettle in restrained means, 
 To make a false one. 
 Isnb. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not m earth. 
 Ang. Say you sol then I shall pose you quickly. 
 Which had you rather, that the most 'just law 
 Mow took your brother's life ; or, to redeem him, 
 Give up your body to such sweet uncleanncss, 
 4s she that he hath stained ! 
 
 hah. Sir, believe this, 
 
 I had rather give my body tlian my soul. 
 
 Ang. I talk not of your soul ; our compelfd sins 
 Stand more for number than accompt. 
 Isab. How say you? 
 
 Ang, Nay I'll not warrant that; for I can speak 
 Against the thing 1 say. Answer to this; — 
 I, now the voice of the recorded law. 
 Pronounce a sentence on your brotlier's life : 
 Might there not be a charily in sin, 
 To save this brother's life ' 
 
 Ixab. Please you to do 't, 
 
 I'll take it as a peril to my soul, 
 it is no sin at all, but charily. 
 
 Ang. Pleas'd you to do 't. at peril of your soul. 
 Were equal poise of sin and charity. 
 
 I.iab. rhat 1 do beg his life, if it be sin. 
 Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit. 
 If that be sin, ill make it my morn prayer 
 To have it added to the taults of mine. 
 And nothing of your answer. 
 
 Ang. Nay, but hear me: 
 
 Your sense pursues not mine : either you are igno- 
 rant. 
 Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good. 
 
 Isnb. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, 
 But graciously to know I am no better. 
 Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, 
 
 " Profit. 
 
 » The people. 
 
 When it dolh tax itself: as these black masks 
 Proclaim an enshicid' beauty ten times louder 
 Than beauty could displayed. — But mark me; 
 To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: 
 Your brother is to die. 
 hah. So. 
 
 Ang And his offence is so, as it appears 
 Accountant to the law upon that pain. 
 hah. True. 
 
 Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, 
 (As I subscribe not that, nor any other, 
 Hut in the loss of question.) that you, his sister, 
 Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, 
 Whose credit with the judge, or own great place. 
 Could fetch your brother from the manacles 
 (if the all-binding law; and that there were 
 No earthly mean to save him, but that eitlier 
 You must lay down tlie treasures of your body 
 To this supposed, or else let him suffer ; 
 What would you do'! 
 
 hub. As much for my poor brother as myself; 
 That is, were I under the terms of death, 
 TThe impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, 
 And strip myself to death, as to a bed 
 That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield 
 My body up to shame. 
 Ang. Then must your brother die. 
 
 hah. And 'twere the cheaper way: 
 Better it were, a brother died at once. 
 Than that a sister, by redeeming him, 
 Sliould die for ever. 
 
 Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence 
 That you have slahder'd so? 
 
 hab. Ignoniy in ransom, and free pardon, 
 Are of two houses: lawful mercy is 
 Nothing akin to foul redemption. 
 Ang. \o\i seem'd of late to make the law a ty- 
 rant; 
 And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother 
 A merriment than a vice. 
 
 hab. O, pardon me. my lord; it oft falls out, 
 To have what we'd have, we speak not what we 
 
 mean : 
 I something do excuse the thing I hate. 
 For his advantage that I dearly love. 
 Ang. We are all frail. 
 
 hah. Else let my brother die. 
 
 If not a feodary,' but only he. 
 Owe," and succeed by weakness. 
 Aag. Nay. women are frail too. 
 
 hub. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- 
 selves ; 
 Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
 Women !-— Help" heaven ! men their creation mar 
 In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail ; 
 For we n re soft as our complexions are. 
 And credulous to false prints.'' 
 
 Ang. I think it well: 
 
 And from this testimony of your own sex, 
 (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger 
 Than f.iults may shake our frames,) let me be bold; 
 I do arrest your words ; be tliat you are. 
 That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none ; 
 If you be one, (as you are well exjiress'd 
 By all external warrants,) show it now. 
 By putting on the destin'd livery, 
 
 'hab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord. 
 Let me entreat you, speak the former language. 
 .Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you. 
 hall. My brother did love Juliet ; and you tell me 
 That he shall die for it. 
 Aag. He shall not, Is.abel, if you give me love. 
 hab. I know your virtue liath a licence in 't, 
 Wliich seems a httle fouler than it is, 
 To pluck on others. 
 
 Ang. Believe me, on mine honor, 
 
 Mv words express my purpose. 
 
 hab. Ha! little honor to be much believ'd. 
 Ami most pernicious purpose ! — Seeming, seeming . 
 I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look fort: 
 Sign me a present pardon for mv brother. 
 Or. with an ouLstretcli'd throat, I'll tell the world 
 Aloud, what man thou art. 
 
 Anx- Who will believe thee, Isabel! 
 
 My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, 
 My vouch against you, and my place i' the state. 
 Will so your accusation overweigh. 
 That yo"u shall stifie in your own report, 
 I * Covered, » Associate. «* Own. i Iinpre.'=siona 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 MEASUKE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 89 
 
 And smell of calumny. I liiive bezun; 
 And now I sivc my sensual race the rein; 
 Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; 
 Lay by all nicety, and prolixiouss blushes. 
 That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother 
 By yieldins up thy body to my will; 
 Or else he "must not only die the death, 
 But thy unkindness shall his death draw nut 
 To liiiii rinjr sulterance : answer me to-morrow, 
 Or, by the allection that now guides me most, 
 111 prove a tjTant to him: As for you. 
 Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Isnb. To whom shall I complain 1 Did I tell lliis. 
 Who would believe me? perilous moutlis, 
 
 That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, 
 Kither of condemnation or approof ! 
 Bidding the law mal<c court'-sy to their will ; 
 Honking both right and wrong to the appetite, 
 To follow as it draws ! I'll to ray brother : 
 Though he hath fallen hy prompture of the blood, 
 Yet hath he in him such a jnind of honor. 
 That had he twenty heads to tender down 
 On twenty bloody blocks, lied yield them up. 
 Before his sister should her body stoop 
 To such abhorr'd pollution. 
 Then Isabel, hve chaste, and, brother, die: 
 More than our brother is our chastity. 
 
 ; I'll tell him yet of Angilo's request, 
 
 I And tit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Room in the Prison. 
 Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. 
 
 Duke- So, then you hope of pardon from lord 
 Angelo! 
 
 Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, 
 But only hope : 
 I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. 
 
 Duke. Be absolute for death : either death, orlife. 
 Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life, — 
 If I do lose thee, I do lose a thmg 
 That none but fools would keep : a breath thou art, 
 (Servile to all the skiey influences,) 
 That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, 
 Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; 
 For him thou labor'st by thy flight to shun. 
 And yet run'st toward him still : Thou art not noble; 
 For all the accommodations that thou bear'sl. 
 Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art by no means 
 
 valiant; 
 For thou dost fear the sofl and tender fork 
 Of a poor worm : Thy best of rest is sleep. 
 And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st 
 Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; 
 For thou exist'st on many thousand grains 
 That issue out of dust : Happy thou art not ; 
 For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get ; 
 Andwhatthou hast, forget'st: Thou art not certain; 
 For tliy complexion shifts to strange ctrects,* 
 After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
 For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows. 
 Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey. 
 And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none; 
 For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire. 
 The mere eflfusion of thy proper loins. 
 Do curse the gout, serpigo,' and the rheum. 
 For ending thee no sooner : Thou hast nor youth, 
 
 nor age ; 
 But, as it were, an afler-dinner's sleep. 
 Dreaming on both : for all thy blessed youth 
 Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
 Of palsied eld; and when thou art old andrioh, 
 Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
 To m.ike thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this. 
 That bears the name of life ! Yet in this life 
 Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death wc fear. 
 That makes these odds all even. 
 
 Claud. I humbly thank you. 
 
 To sue to live, T find. I seek to die: 
 And seeking death, find life : Let it come on. 
 Enter Isabella. 
 
 Isab. What, ho! Peace here; grace and good 
 company ! 
 
 Proi: Who's the're? come in: the wish deserves 
 a welcome. 
 
 Duke. Dear sir. ere long I'll visit you again. 
 
 Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. 
 
 Isab. My business is a word or two with Clandio. 
 
 Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's 
 your sister. 
 
 DuTce. Provost, a word with you. 
 
 Proi: As many as you please. 
 
 Duke. Bring tbem to speak, where I may be 
 conceaPd, 
 • Beluctant. " Affects, atTectiODS. 
 
 iLeproua eruptions. 
 
 Yet hear them. [Exeurit Duke and Provost. 
 
 Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort ■? 
 
 Isab. Why, as all comforts are ; most good indeed : 
 Lord Anselo, having alFairs to heaven. 
 Intends you for his swil't ambassador. 
 Where you shall Im? an everlasting lieger:« 
 Therefore your best appointment make with speed ; 
 To-morrow you set on. 
 
 Claud. Is there no remedy ? 
 
 hab. None, but such a remedy, as to save' a head, 
 To cleave a heart in twain. 
 
 Claud. But is there any i 
 
 I^ab. Yes, brother, you may live; 
 There is a devilish mercy in the judge. 
 If you'll implore it, that will free your life 
 But fetter you till death. 
 
 Claud. Perpetual durance'? 
 
 Isab. .^v, just, perpetual durance: a restraint, 
 Though all the world's vastidity you had, . 
 "To a determined scope. 
 
 Claud. But in what nature? 
 
 Isa'\ In such a one as (you consenting to 'tl 
 Would bark your honor from that trunk you bear. 
 And leave you naked. 
 
 Claud. Let me know the point. 
 
 Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake. 
 Lest thou a feverous fife shouldst entertain. 
 And six or seven winters more respect 
 Than a perpetual honor. Darst thou dieT 
 The sense of deatli is most in apprehension; 
 And the poor beetle that we tread upon. 
 In corporal sufferance tiuds a pang as great 
 \s when a giant dies. 
 
 Claud. Why give you me this shame 1 
 
 Think you I can a resolution fetch 
 From flowery tenderness t If 1 must die, 
 I will encounter darkness as a bride. 
 And hus it in mine arms. 
 
 Isab. There spake my brother; there my father's 
 grave 
 Did utter forth a voice ! Yes. thou must die : 
 Thou art too noble to conserve a life 
 In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, — 
 Whose settled visase and deliberate word 
 Nips youth i' the head, and follie^oth enmew. 
 As falcon doth the fowl, — is yet a devil ; 
 His filth within beini cast, he would appear 
 .\ pond as deep as hell. 
 
 Claud. The princely Angelo 1 
 
 hah. n, 'tis the cunning livery of hell. 
 The vilest body to invest and cover 
 In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio, 
 If 1 would vield him my virginitj', 
 rhou might'st be freed ! 
 
 Claud. O, heavens! It cannot be. 
 
 Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from tliis rank 
 offence, 
 9o 1 to offend him still : This night's the time, 
 Tliat 1 should do what I ablior to name. 
 Or else thou diest to-morrow. 
 
 Claud. Thou shalt not do't. 
 
 Isab. O, were it but my life, 
 I'd throw it down for your deliverance 
 .\s frankly as a pin. 
 
 Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. 
 
 s Resident. 
 
90 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act II 
 
 Isa'). Be readj', Claudio. for your death to-morrow. 
 
 Claud. Vcs. — Mas he allection? in liim, 
 Tliat thus can make liirn bite the law tiy the nose, 
 When he would force it 7 Sure it is no sin ; 
 Or of the deadly seven it is the least- 
 
 Isa''. Wnicli is the leasts 
 
 Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise, 
 Wliy, would he for tlie momentary trick 
 13e perduraWy fin'd ' — o Isabel! 
 
 Isuh. What says my brother ! 
 
 Claud. Death is a fearful thing. 
 
 Imb. And shamed life a hateful. 
 
 Claudi Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; 
 To lie in coid obstruction, and to rot: 
 This sensible warm motion to become 
 A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit 
 To bathe in fiery Hoods, or to reside 
 In thrilling regions of thick ribbed ice ; . 
 To he impl-isohd in the viewless winds, 
 And blown with restless violence round about 
 The pendent world; or to be worse than worst 
 Of those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts 
 Imagine howling! — 'tis too horrible! 
 Tlie "weariest and most loathed worklly life. 
 That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment, 
 Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
 To what we fear of death. 
 
 Ivi'i. Alas! alas! 
 
 Claud. Sweet sister, let me live : 
 
 Wliat sin you do to save a brother's life, 
 Nature dispenses with the deed so far, 
 That it becomes a virtue. 
 
 Isab. O, you beast ! 
 
 O, faithless coward ! O, dishonest wretch ! 
 Wilt thou be made a man out of my vicel 
 Is't not a kind of incest, to take life 
 From tliine own sister's shame 1 What should I 
 
 think ] 
 Heaven shield, my mother play'd my lather fair ! 
 For such a warped slip of wilderness 
 Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance: 
 Die; perish! miaht but my bending down 
 Reprice thee from thy f.it'e, it should proceed: 
 I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death 
 No word to save thee. 
 
 Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. 
 
 Imh. O.fye, fye, fye! 
 
 Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade : 
 Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: 
 'Tis best that thou diest quickly. [Going 
 
 Claud. ■ hear me, Isabella. 
 
 Re-enter Duke. 
 
 Sal-e. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one 
 word. 
 
 Isah. What is your wiUI 
 
 Uulce. Might you dispense with your leisure, I 
 would by and by have some speech with you : the 
 satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own 
 benefit. 
 
 Isab. I have no superlluous leisure; my stay 
 must be stolen out of other affairs; but 1 will attend 
 you awhile. 
 
 Duke. [To CtACnio, n.Hde.] Son, I have over- 
 lieard what hath passed between you and your sister. 
 Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only 
 he hath made an essav of her virtue, to practice his 
 judgment with tl« disposition of natures; she. hav- 
 ing die truth of lioiior in licr, hath made him that 
 gracious denial which he is most Klad to receive: I 
 am confessor to AuKclu, and 1 know this to be true; 
 therefore prepare yourself to death : Do not satisfy 
 your resolution with hopes tliat are fallible : to-mor- 
 row you must die; go to your knees, and make 
 ready. 
 
 Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so 
 out of love with life. Hint I will sue to be rid of it. 
 
 Du.'.-e. Hold you there: Farewell. 
 
 [E.rit Clauiiio. 
 
 Rc-enler Provost. 
 
 Provost, a word with you. 
 
 Prnr. What's your will, father'! 
 
 I>ul;e. That now you are come you will be gone. 
 Leave me awhile with the maid; my mind prom- 
 ises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my 
 company. 
 
 Prnr. 'In good time. 1 En'/ Provost. 
 
 DiUie. The hand that hath made you fair, hath 
 made you good: the goodness that is cheap in 
 
 beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness: butgrare, 
 being the soul of your complexion. should Keep the 
 body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath 
 made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my under- 
 standing; and, but that frailty hath examples for 
 his falling, I should woiiiler at Angelo. How would 
 you do to content this substitute, and to save your 
 brother'! 
 
 hub. I am now going to resolve him: I had 
 rather my brotlier die by tlie law, than my son should 
 be unlawfully born. Hut 0, how mucli is the good 
 duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he retun, and I 
 can speak to him. 1 will open my hps in •ain, or 
 disco\er his government. 
 
 Duke. Tliat shall not he much amiss: Yet, as 
 the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusa- 
 tion ; he made trial of you only. — Therefore, fasten 
 your ear on my advisings : to 'Uie love 1 liave in do- 
 mg s;ood, a remedy presents itself. I do make my- 
 self believe, tluit you may most uprighteously do a 
 poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your 
 brother from the angry law ; do no stain to your 
 own gracious person; and much please the atisent 
 duke, if, peracfvenlure, he shall ever return to have 
 hearing of this business. 
 
 Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have 
 spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the 
 truth of my spirit. 
 
 Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fear- 
 ful. Have vou not heard speak of Mariana the sis- 
 ter of [•'rederick, the great soldier, who miscarried 
 at sea ] 
 
 Isab. 1 have heard of the lady, and good words 
 went wdth her name. 
 
 Duke. Her should this Angelo have married; was 
 affianced to her by oath, and the nuplual appointed : 
 between which time of the contract, and limit of 
 the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked 
 at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of 
 his sister. But mark, liow heavily this befel to the 
 poor gentlewoman ; there she lost a noble and re- 
 nowned brother, in his love toward her ever most 
 kind and natural ; with him, the portion and sinew 
 of her fortune, lier marriage-dowry ; with both, her 
 combinate' husband, this well-seeming Angelo. 
 
 Isab. Can this be sol Did Angelo so leave her7 
 
 Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of 
 them with his coml'ort; swallowed his vows whole, 
 pretending in her discoveries of dishonor: in tew, 
 bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she 
 yet wears for his sake ; and he. a marble to her 
 tears, is washed with them, but relents not. 
 
 Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this 
 poor maiden from tlie world ! What corruption in 
 this life, that it will let this man live! — but how 
 out of this can slie avail'! 
 
 Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal: 
 and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but 
 keeps you from dishonor m doing it. 
 
 Isab. Sliow me how, good father. 
 
 Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the 
 continuance of her first alTection; his unjust un- 
 kindness, that in all reason should have quenched 
 her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, 
 made it more violent and unruly. Go you to An- 
 gelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedi- 
 ence; agree with his demands to the point: only 
 refer yeurself to this advantage, — first, tluat your 
 stay with him may not be long; that the lime may 
 have all shadow and silence in it; and the place 
 answer to convenience : this being granted in course, 
 now follows all. \\ e shall advise this wronged maid 
 to stead up your appointment, go in your jilace ; if 
 the encounter acknowledge itself herealler, it may 
 compel him to her recompense: and liere, by tins, 
 is your brother saved, your honor untainted, the 
 poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy 
 scaled.' The maid will I frame, and make fit for 
 his attempt If you think well to carry this as you 
 may, the douhleness of the benefit defends the de- 
 ceit from reproof. W hat think you of it ! 
 
 Isab. The image of it gives me content already ; 
 and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous per- 
 fection. 
 
 ■Duke. It lies much in your holding up: Haste 
 you speedily to ,\ngelo: if for this night he entreat 
 you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I 
 will presently to St. Luke's; there, at the moated 
 grange, resides this dejected iMariana: At that 
 ' retrothca. * OTcr-re.ichc'd. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 91 
 
 place rail upon me ; and di.spatch with Angelo, that 
 It may bo cimckly. 
 
 /.<«•<. 1 th.iiik youfortliiscoinrijrt: Fare you well, 
 good lather. [Exeuiil s.verutly. 
 
 SCE.NE n.—Tlie Sired b.'fore the Prison. 
 
 Enter Duhi;, as a friar s to Mm Elbow, Clown, 
 and Officers. 
 
 Elb. Naj', if there be no remedy of it, but that 
 vou will needs buy and sell men and women like 
 beasts, we sh ill have all the world drink brown and 
 wJiite bastard. I 
 
 Duke. (), heavens! what stuff is here T 
 
 (,'to. 'Twas nevei merry world, since, of two 
 usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser 
 allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him 
 warm ; and furr'd with fox and lamb skins loo, to 
 signify, that craft, being richer than innocency 
 stands for the fa.-ing. 
 
 El"). Come your way, sir; — Bless you, good fa- 
 tlier friar. 
 
 Duke. And you, good brother father: What of- 
 fence hath this man made you, sir i 
 
 E!'>. iNIarry, sir, he hath odended the law ; and, 
 sir. we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have 
 found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we 
 have sent to the deputy. 
 
 Duke. Kye, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd I 
 The evil that thou causest to hii done, 
 That is thy means to live : do thou but think 
 What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back, 
 From such a filthy vice ; say to thyself^ 
 F'rom their abourinable and beastly touches 
 I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. 
 Canst thou believe thy livin'4 is a life. 
 So stinkiui^ly depending! Go, mend, go, mend. 
 
 CUi. Indeed it does stink in some sort, sir > but 
 yet, sir, I would prove 
 
 Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs 
 for sin, 
 Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison officer ; 
 Correction and instruction must both work, 
 Kre this rude beast will profit. 
 
 Elh. He must before the deputy, sir ; he has given 
 him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whore- 
 master: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before 
 Him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. 
 
 Duke. That we were all. as some would seem to be. 
 Free fro.ii our faulU, as faults from seeming free ! 
 
 Enter Lucio- 
 
 El^. His neck will come to your waist, a cord. sir. 
 
 Clo. I spy co.nfort; I cry bail: Here's a gentle- 
 man, a friend of mine. 
 
 L'tcio. How now, noble Pompey 7 What, at the 
 heels of Caisarl Art thou led in triumph I What, 
 is .there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made 
 woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the 
 ro,:ket. and extracting it clutch df VV^hat reply? 
 II. I ! What say'st tiiou to this tune, matter, and 
 method! Is't not drownd i' the last rain! Ha! 
 What say'st thou, trot! Is the world as it was, 
 nran T Which isthe way ! Ia it sad, and lew words ! 
 Or how ! The trick of it ! 
 
 Duke. Still thus, and thus ! still worse ! 
 
 Lucut. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress ! 
 Procures she still *! Ha ! 
 
 Ci(i. Troth, sir, s!ie hath eaten up all her beef, 
 and she is herself in the tub." 
 
 Liccio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it 
 must be so; ever your fresh whore, and your pow- 
 der'd bawd: an unshunn'd consequence; it must 
 be so : art going to prison, Pompey ! 
 
 Cto. Yes. faith, sii. 
 
 L'.icio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey : Farewell: 
 Go; say, I seiit thee thither. For debt, Pompey! 
 Or how ! 
 
 Etb. For heinj a bawd, for being a bawd. 
 
 L'irio. Well, then imprison him: if imprison- 
 ment be the due of a bawd, why 'tis his right: 
 bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too ; bawd- 
 born. Farewell, good Pompey : commend me to the 
 prison, Pompey: you will turn -400 I husband now, 
 Pompey; you will keep the house. ^ 
 
 Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my 
 bail. 
 
 Lucin. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not 
 
 • A sweet wine. « Pow.lerini; tub. ' St.iy at home. 
 
 the wear. 1 will pray. Pompey. to increase your 
 uondage: if you la:,e ii not patiently, why your 
 mettle is Ihe more : Adieu, trusty Pompey.— lUess 
 you. friar. 
 Duke. And you. 
 
 L'lc'uj. Does liridget paint still, Pompej'! Ha? 
 Et'j. Come j'our ways, sir; come. 
 Cto. "i'ou will not bail me then, s.r ? 
 Lucio. Then, I'ompey ! nor now — What news 
 abroad, friar ! Wh^t news ( 
 Elb. CoMie your ways, sir; come. 
 Lucio. Go, — to kennel, Pompey, go: 
 
 [Kxeiinl Elhow, Ciovvu, atid Officers. 
 What news, I'l'iar, of the duke ! 
 Duke. 1 know none: Can you tell me of any ! 
 Luciu. Some say, he is with the eiuperorof Kus- 
 sia; other some, he is in Home: But where is he, 
 think you ! 
 
 Duke. I know not where: But wheresoever, I 
 wish him well. 
 
 Lurio. It was a mad fantistical trick of him, to 
 steal from the state, and usurp tise beggary lie was 
 never born to. I.ord Angelo dukes it well in his 
 absence ; he jiuts transgression to t. 
 Duke. He iloes well in 't. 
 
 Lucio. \ lillle more lenity to lechery would do 
 no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, 
 friar. 
 
 Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must 
 cure it. 
 
 Luci'). '\*es, in good sooth, the vice is of a great 
 kindred; it is well allied : hut it is impossible to e.\- 
 tirp it quite, friar, till eating and dnnkinj be put 
 down. I'hey say. this An,;clo was not made by 
 man an.d woman, after the downright way of crea- 
 tion : is it true, think you! 
 Duke. How should he be made then 1 
 Lucin. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him: — 
 .Some, that he was begot between Iwo-stock-lishcs: 
 but it is certain, that when he makes water, his 
 urine is congeal'd ice ; that 1 know to be true : and 
 he is a motion' ungenerativc. that's infallible. 
 Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. 
 Lucio. Why. what a rutlile.is thing is this in him, 
 for the rebellion of a eod-picce, to take away the life 
 of a man! Would the duke, that is absent, have 
 done this ! Ere he would have hanged a man for 
 the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid 
 for the nursing a tliousand: lie had some feeling o{ 
 the sport ; he knew the service, and tliat instructed 
 him to mercy. 
 
 Duk'. I never heard the absent duke much de- 
 tected for women ; he was not inclined that way. 
 Lucio. O. sir, you are deceived. 
 Duke. 'Tis not possible. 
 
 Luciu. Who! not the duke! yes, your beggar of 
 fifty ; — and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack- 
 dish:' the duke had crotcliets in him: He would 
 be drunk too; that let me inform you. 
 Duke. Y'ou do him wrong, surely. 
 Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of Ills : a shy fellow 
 was the duke: and I believe I kno',v the cause of his 
 withdrawiii'iT. 
 
 Duke. What, T pr'ythce. might be the cause'! 
 Lucio. No, — pardon ;— 'tis a secret must be loek'd 
 within the teeth and the lips: but this 1 can let you 
 under.'itaud, — The greater tile of the subject held 
 the duke to be wi.se. 
 Dike. Wise ! why, no question but hi- was. 
 Lucio. A very superticial, ignorant, unweighin" 
 fellow. ° 
 
 Duke. Either this is envy in you. folly, or mistak- 
 ing; the very stream of liis life, and Ihe business 
 he hath he'med.' must, upon a warranted need, give 
 him a belter proclamation. Let him be but testi- 
 monie 1 in his ow n br;ngin:;s firth, and he shall 
 appear to the envious, a .scholar, a statesman, and a 
 soldier: Therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if 
 your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in 
 your malice. 
 Lucio. Sir, [ know him. and I love him. 
 Duke. Love talks with belter knowledge, and 
 knowled-ie with dearer love. 
 Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know, 
 s Puppet. 
 
 9 Cach-flish: The beggars, two or three centlI^i^•^ngo, 
 used to proclaim their want hy a wooden dish with a 
 mOT.iUe cover, whieh Ihey claeked, to show that their 
 vessel was em] ty. 
 iGuidea. 
 
92 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Duke. I ran hardly believe that, since you know 
 not what you speak, lint, if ever the duke return, 
 (as our prayers are lie luay,) let me desire you to 
 make your answtr beibre liim: If it be honest you 
 have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: 1 
 am bound to call upon you : and, 1 pray you, your 
 name 1 
 
 Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the 
 duke. 
 
 Duke. He shall know you belter, sir, if I may hve 
 to report you. 
 
 Lucio. 1 fear you not. 
 
 Duke. 0, you nope the duke will return no more ; 
 or you imagine me too unhurtfulaii opposite. But, 
 indeed, 1 can do you little harm: you'll forswear 
 this again. 
 
 Lucin. I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in 
 me, fiiar. But no more of this: canst thou tell, if 
 Claudio die to-inorow, or no ! 
 
 Duke. Why should he die, sirT 
 
 Lucio. Why ! for filling a bottle with a tun-dish. 
 I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again : 
 this ungenitur d agent will unpeople the province 
 with continency ; sparrows must not build in his 
 house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke 
 yet would have daric deeds darkly answer'd ; he 
 would never bring them to light: would he were 
 return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for 
 untrussing. Farewell, good friar: I pr'ytheepray 
 for me. f h-= duke, 1 say to thee again, would eat 
 mutton on Fridays. He's now past it ; yet, and I 
 say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though 
 she smelt brown bread and garlic: say, Ihat I said 
 so. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality 
 Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny 
 The whitest virtue strikes: What king so strong, 
 Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue 1 
 But who comes here ! 
 
 Enter Esc.ii.us, Provost, Bawd, a;)(< Officers. 
 
 Excal. Go, away with her to prison. 
 
 Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me ; your honor 
 is accounted a merciful man : good my lord. 
 
 Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still 
 forfeit^ in the same kind ! This would make mercy 
 swear, and play the tyrant. 
 
 Frov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may 
 it please your honor. 
 
 Baicd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information 
 against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with 
 child by him in the duke's time, he promised her 
 marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old, 
 come Philip and Jacob : I have kept it myself; and 
 see how lie goes about to abuse me. 
 
 E.icat. That fellow is a fellow of much Ii'-ense : 
 
 let him be called before us. — Away with her to 
 
 prison: Go to; no m ire words. i Exeu'i/ Bawd and 
 Oflicers.] Provost my brother Angelo will not be al- 
 tered; Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be fur- 
 nished with divini's, and have all charitable prepar- 
 ation: if my brother wrought by my pity, it should 
 not be so with him. , . , 
 
 Prill'. So please you. this friar hath been with 
 him, and advis -d bun for the entertainment of death. 
 
 Excal. Good even, good father. 
 
 Duke. Bliss and •s.m Iness on you ! 
 
 Escal. Of whence are you ! 
 
 Duke. Not of this country, though my chance is 
 
 now 
 To use it for my time : I am a brother 
 Of gracious order, late come from the see, 
 In special business from his liuliness. 
 
 Esrul. What news abroad i' the world f 
 
 Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on 
 goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it: 
 novelty is only in request ; and it is as dangerous to 
 be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be 
 constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth 
 enough alive, to niake societies secure; but secur- 
 ity enough, to make fellcwship accurs'd : much 
 upon this riddle runs' the wisdom of the world, 
 'i'his news is old enough, yet it is every day'snews. 
 I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the dukel 
 
 Escal. One that, above all other strifes, contended 
 especially to know himself. 
 
 Duke. What pleasure was he given to 1 
 
 Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another meiTy, than 
 merry at any thing which professed to make him 
 rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave 
 we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove 
 prosperous : and let me desire to know how you 
 find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand, 
 that you have lent him visitation. 
 
 Duke. He professes to have received no sinister 
 measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles 
 himself to the determination of justice : yet had he 
 framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, 
 many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my 
 good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he 
 resolved to die. 
 
 Excnl. You have paid the heavens your function, 
 and the prisoner the very debt of your ciUling. I 
 have labord for the poor gentleman, to the extrem- 
 es! shore of my modesty ; but my brother justice 
 have 1 found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell 
 him. he is indeed — justice. 
 
 Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his 
 
 Eroceeding, it shall become him well; wherein, if 
 e chance to fail, he hath sentenced himsell'. 
 Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner : Fare you 
 well. 
 Duke. Peace be with you ! 
 
 \Exeunt F.cah's and Provost 
 He, who the sword of heaven would bear, 
 Should be as holy as severe ; 
 Pattern in himself to know, 
 Grace to stand, and virtue go ; 
 More nor less to others paying, 
 Thau by self-ollences weighing. 
 Shame to him, whose cruel striking 
 Kills for faults of his own liking ! 
 Twice treble shame on Angelo, 
 To weed my vice and let his grow! 
 0, what may man within him hide. 
 Though angel on the outward side ! 
 How may likeness, made in crimes. 
 Making practice on the times. 
 Draw with idle spiders' strings 
 Most pond'rous and substantial things ! 
 Craft against vice 1 must apply ; 
 With Angelo to-night shall lie 
 His old betrothed, but despis'd; 
 So disguise shall, by the disguis'd. 
 Pay with falsehood false exacting, 
 .\nd perforin an old contracting. \Exit» 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Room in Mariana's Hbtwf. 
 MiKiiSA discovered sitting ; a Boy singini^. 
 
 SONG. 
 Take oh, take t hnne lips awai/. 
 
 That so swectbi wtrefijrswnrn ; 
 And those ei/cs, the break of >/«;/, 
 
 Lights that di> mislead the morn ; 
 £ut my kisses bring again, 
 
 bring again, 
 Seals of love, but seul'd in vain, 
 
 seal'd in vain. 
 » Transgress. 
 
 Mari. Break off thy song, and ha-ste thee quick 
 away ; 
 Here comes a man of comfort, whone advice 
 Hath ollen stilld my brawling discontent. — 
 
 [Exit Boy. 
 Enter Duke. 
 I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish 
 You had not found me here so musical ; 
 Let me excuse me, and believe me so. — 
 My mirth it much displeas'd. but pleasd my woe. 
 Duke. ' lis good : though music oft hath such a 
 charm. 
 To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. 
 
Scene IT. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 93 
 
 I pray yon tell me, hath any body enquired for me 
 here to-day 1 much upon tliis time have 1 pronns'd 
 here to meet. 
 
 Mari. You liave not been inquired after ; I have 
 sat here all day. 
 
 Enter ISAnELLA. 
 
 Duke. I do constantly believe you: — The time 
 is come even now. I sliall crave your forbearance 
 a little : may be, I will call upon you anon, Jor 
 s jme advantage to yourself. 
 
 Mari. I am always bound to you. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. Very well met, and welcome. 
 \Vhat is the news from this good deputy f 
 
 hab. He hath a garden circummur'da with brick, 
 ■\Vhose western side is with a vineyard back'd ; 
 And to that vineyard is a planclfd* gate, 
 That makes his opening with this bigger key : 
 This other doth command a little door. 
 Which from the vineyard to tlie garden leads; 
 There have I made my promise to call on him, 
 Upon the heavy middle of the night. 
 
 Duke. But s'hall you on your knowledge find this 
 way '. 
 
 Isab. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon*t ; 
 "With whispering and most guilty ddigence, 
 In action all of precept, he did show me 
 The way twice o'er. 
 
 Duke. Are there no other tokens 
 
 Between you 'greed, concerning her observance I 
 
 Isah. No, none, but only a repair i" the dark; 
 And that I have possess'd him, my most stay 
 Can be but brief: for I have made him know, 
 I have a servant comes with me along. 
 That stays upon me; whose persuasion is, 
 I come about my brother. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis well borne up. 
 
 I have not yet made kTiown to Mariana 
 A word of this: — What ho! within! come forth! 
 
 Re-enter Makiasa. 
 
 I pray you, be acquainted with this maid; 
 She comes to do you good. 
 Isati. I do desire the like. 
 
 Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect 
 
 you ! 
 Mari. Good friar, I know you do; and have 
 
 found it. 
 Duke. Take tlien this your companion by the 
 hand. 
 Who hatli a story ready for your ear: 
 I shall attend your leisure ; hut make haste ; 
 Tile vaporous night a[ipro;iches. 
 Mari. Will 't please you walk aside? 
 
 [ExrnnI M \uiana, and Iskbklla. 
 Duke. O place and greatness, millions of false eyes 
 Are stuck upon t liee ! volumes of report 
 liun wnth these false and most contrarious quests* 
 Tpon thy doings! thousand "scapes' of wit 
 Iilake thee the lather of their idle dream. 
 And rack Ihce in their fancies! — Welcome! How 
 agreed '! 
 Re-enter M \aii.s i. and Isabella. 
 
 Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, 
 If you advise it. 
 
 Duke. It is not my consent, 
 
 But ray intreaty too. 
 
 Imlj. Little have you to say, 
 
 When you depart from him, but soft and low, 
 Renirraber now my brut/ier. 
 
 Mari. " Fear me not. 
 
 Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all : 
 He is your husband on a pre-contract : 
 To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin; 
 Sith that the justice of your title to hi in 
 Doth nourish' the deceit. Come, let us go; 
 Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithess to sow. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Ronm in the Prhon. 
 
 Enter Provost and Clown. 
 
 Vrnr. Come hither, sirrah: Can you cut olf a 
 man's head T 
 Clo- If the man be a batchelor, sir, I can: but if 
 1 Walled round. « Planked, wooden. 
 
 * Inquisitions, inquiries. 6 Sallies. 
 " Gild, or varnish over. 
 
 • Tilth, land vjrepared for sowing. 
 
 he be a married man, he is his wile's head, and 1 
 can never cut otfa woman's head ! 
 
 Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and 
 yield me a direct answer. To-iiiorrow morning are 
 to die Claudio and Barhardine : here is in our prison 
 a common executioner, who in his office lacks a 
 helper : if you will take it on you to a.ssist him, 
 it shall redeem you from your gyves ;» if not. you 
 shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your 
 deliverance with an unpiticd whipping; for you 
 have been a notorious bawd. 
 
 Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out 
 of mind ; but yet I will be content to be a lawful 
 hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruc- 
 tion I'rom my fellow-partner. 
 
 Proi: What ho, Abhorson ! Where's Abhorson, 
 there 1 
 
 En<er Abbohsox. 
 
 Abhor. Do you call, sir? 
 
 Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-mor- 
 row in your execution : If you think it i.ieet, com- 
 pound with him by the year, and let him abide here 
 with you? if not, use him for the present, and dis- 
 miss him: he cannot plead his estimation with you; 
 he hath been a bawd. 
 
 ,•1 bhor. A bawd, sir ! Fye upon him, he will dis- 
 credit our mystery.i 
 
 Prov. Go to, sir; you weigh equal!)'; a feather 
 will turn the scale. [Exit. 
 
 etc. Pray, sir, by your good favor, (for, surely, 
 sir, a good favor you have, but that you liave a 
 hanging look,) do you call, sir, your occupation a 
 mystery ? 
 
 Abhor. Ay, sir; a mystery. 
 
 Clo. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; 
 and your whores, sir, being members of my occu- 
 pation, using painting, do prove my occupation a 
 mystery: but wdiat mystery there should be in hang- 
 ing, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. 
 
 Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. 
 
 Clo. Proof. 
 
 A bhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief: 
 if it be too little for your thief, yourtrueman thinks 
 it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your 
 tliief thinks it little enough: so everj- true man's 
 apparel tits your thief. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Prov. Are you agreed? 
 
 Clo. Sir, 1 will serve him ; for t do find, your 
 hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; 
 he doth oftener ask forgiveness. 
 
 Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and your 
 axe, to-morrow, four o'clock. 
 
 Abhor. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in 
 my trade ; follow. 
 
 Clo. I do desire to learn, sir; and, I hope, if you 
 have occasion to use me for your own turn, you 
 shall find me yare :» for truly, sir, for your kindness, 
 I owe you a good turn. 
 
 Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio : 
 
 [Exeunt Clown and ABUonsoy, 
 One has my pity ; not a jot tlic other. 
 Being a murderer, though he were my brother. 
 
 Enter Claudio. 
 
 Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death : 
 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow 
 Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? 
 Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless 
 labor 
 When it lies starkly in the travellers bones: 
 He will not wake. 
 
 Prov. Who can do good on him? 
 
 Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise 1 
 [Knocking within. 
 Heaven give your spirits comfort ! [Exit Clacuio. 
 
 liy and by: — 
 I hope it is some pardon or reprieve, 
 For tlie most gentle Claudio. — Welcome, father. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. The best and wholesomost spirits of the 
 night 
 Envelope you, good provost! Who call'd hereof 
 late? 
 Prov. None, since the curfew rung. 
 
 9 Fetters. ' Trade. ' Heady 
 
94 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Difkc. Not Isabel? 
 
 Prov. jVo. 
 
 Duke. They will then, erc't be long. 
 
 Prot'. What conilbrt is fjr Chiudio ! 
 
 Duke. -Thure s some in hope. 
 
 Proi\ It is a bitter deputy. 
 
 Duke. Not so, not so; his life is parallcl'd 
 Kven with the stroke and line of his great justice; 
 He doth with holy abstinence subdue 
 That in hi!nse.'f, which he spurs on his power 
 To qualify in others: were he meald* 
 With that which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; 
 But this bein?; so, he's just. — Now are they couie. 
 
 [Knocking within. — Provost ^ocv uut- 
 This is a gentle provost : Seldtun, wlien 
 The steeled gaoler is the friend ol' men. — 
 How now ? what noise? That spirit's posscss'd with 
 
 haste. 
 That wounds the unsisting postern with these 
 strokes. 
 
 Provost returns, speaking to one at the door. 
 
 Prov. There he must stay until the onicer 
 Arise to let him in ; he is calTd up. 
 
 Duke. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, 
 But he must die to-morrow ! 
 
 pror. None sir, none. 
 
 Duke. As near the dawning, provost, as it is, 
 You shall hear more ere morning. 
 
 Prov. Happily,* 
 
 You something know; yet, I believe, there comes 
 No countermand : no such example have we : 
 Besides, upon tlie very siege* of justice, 
 Lord Angelo hath to the public ear 
 Profess'd the contrary. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Duke. This is his lordship's man. 
 
 prov. And here comes Claudio'-s pardon. 
 
 Mess. My lord hath sent you this note; and by 
 me this further charge, that you swerve not from the 
 smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or 
 other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take 
 it, it is almost.day. 
 
 Prov. I shall obey him. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 Duke. This is his pardon; purchas'd by such sin. 
 For which the pardoner himself is in: [Aside. 
 
 Hence hath oflence his quick celerity, 
 ■When it is borne in high authority ; 
 When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended, 
 That for the fault's love, is the ollender friended.— 
 Now, sir, what news? 
 
 Prov. I told you: Lord Angelo, belike, thinking 
 me remiss in mine oflice, awakens me with this un- 
 wonted putting on : mcthinks, strangely ; for he hath 
 not used it before. 
 
 Duke. Pray you, let's hear. 
 
 Proc. [Reads.] Whatsoever you may hear to the. 
 contrary., let Claudio be executed by four of the 
 clock : and. in. tlie afternoon^ Barnardine : for my 
 better satvfacfionjet me have Ctaudh)^s head ."tent 
 me by five. Let tliU be duly performed: tvith a 
 thoukht, that more depends on it thtn we must yrt 
 deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you ivill 
 answer it at your peril. 
 What say you to this, sirl 
 
 Du.ke. Wliat is that Barnardine, wlio is to be ex- 
 ecuted in the afternoon 1 
 
 Prov. A Bohemian born, but here nursed up 
 and bred: one that is a prisoner nine years old.« 
 
 Duke. How came it. that tlio absent duke had 
 not eiller delivered him to his liberty, or executed 
 liim ? 1 have heard, it was ever his manner to do so. 
 
 Prov. His friends still wrought reprieves for Iiim : 
 And, indeed, his fact, till now in the tcovernment of 
 lord Angelo. came not to an undoubtful proof. 
 
 Duke. Is it now apparent? 
 
 Prov, Most manifest, and not denied by himself. 
 
 Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? 
 How seems he to be touch'd ? 
 
 Prov. A man that apprehends death no more 
 dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep: careless, reckless, 
 and fearless of what's past, pri'sont. or toeomc; in- 
 sensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. 
 
 DulhC. He wants advice. 
 
 Prov. He will hear none : he halh evermore had 
 the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape 
 hence, lie would not; drunk many times a day, if 
 " Deflled, * Perb.-ips. * Seat. 
 
 a Nine years in prison. 
 
 not many days entirely drunk. We have very often 
 awa'^ed him, as it' to carry him to execution, and 
 showed liim a scorning warcaut fur it; it hath not 
 moved him at all. 
 
 Duke. More of him anon. There is written in 
 your brow, provost, honesty and constancy : if I 
 re.id it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but 
 in the boldness of my cunning. I wilf lay myself in 
 hazard. Claudio, whom here you have a warrant 
 to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than An- 
 gelo who hath sentenced him : To make you under- 
 stand this in a manifested elTect, I crave but four 
 days' respite: for tlie which you are to do me both 
 a present and a dangerous courtesy 
 
 Prov. Pray, sir, in what? 
 
 Dike. In the delaying death. 
 
 Prov. Alack! how may I do it^havins the hour 
 limited; and an express command, under penalty, 
 to deliver his head in the view of Angelo ? I may 
 make my case as Claudlo's, to cross this in the 
 smallest. 
 
 Duke, By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, 
 if my instructions may be your guide. Let this 
 Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head 
 borne to Angelo. 
 
 Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will dis- 
 cover the favor.T 
 
 Duke. 0, death's a great disguiscr: and you may 
 add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard ; and 
 say, it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared 
 before his death: you know, the course is common. 
 If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks 
 and i;:ood fortune, by the saint whom I protess, I 
 will plead a-^ainst it with my life. 
 
 Prov. Pardon me, good father ; it is against my 
 oath. 
 
 Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to the 
 deputy ? 
 
 P?y>v. To him, and tohis substitutes. 
 
 Duke. You will think you have made no offence, 
 if the duke avouch the justir-e of your dealing? 
 
 Prov. But what likelihood is in that? 
 
 Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet 
 since I see you fearful, that neither my coal, in- 
 tegrity, nor my persuasion, can with ease attempt 
 you, I will tio further than I meant, to pluck all 
 fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand 
 and seal of the duke. You know the character, I 
 doubt not; and the signet is not strange to you. 
 
 Prrnu I know them both. 
 
 Duke, The contents of this is the return of the 
 duke ; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure ; 
 where you sliall fmd, within these two days he will 
 be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not; 
 for he this very day receives letters of a strange tenor: 
 perchance of the duke's death ; perchance, entering 
 mto some monastery : but. by chance, nothing of 
 what is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the 
 shepherd: put not yourself into amazement, how 
 these things should be; all difficulties arc but easy 
 when they are known. Call your executioner, and 
 off with Harnardine's head: 1 v.-ill give him a pres- 
 ent shrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet 
 you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve 
 you. Come away, it is almost clear dawn. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 SCENE IIL — Another Room in i/te same. 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. I am as well acquainted here, as I was In 
 our house of profession : one would tiiink it were 
 mistress Overdone's own house, for here be many 
 of her old customers. First, liere's young master 
 Hash: he's in for a commodity of brown paper and 
 old einger, nineseore and seventeen pounds; of 
 which he made five marks, ready money : marry, 
 tlien, ginger was not much in request, lor the old 
 women were all dead. Then is there here one 
 master Caper, at the suit of master Three-pile the 
 mercer, for some four suits of peach-color'd satin, 
 which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we 
 here young Dizy. and young master Deep-vow, and 
 master Copper-spur, and master Starve-lackey 
 the rapier and dagger-man, and young Drop-heir 
 tliatkilld lusty Puddin-^, and master rorthrii;nt the 
 tilter, and brave master Shoe-tic the great traveller, 
 and wild Half-cann that stabbd Pots, and, I think, 
 forty more; all great doers in our trade, and are 
 now for the lords sake. 
 
 1 Countenance. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 95 
 
 E'lter AinoKSox. 
 
 A'l/ior. Sirrah, bring Rarmrdine hither. 
 
 CUi. Master Barnarditiel'yoa must rise and be 
 hans'd, master Barnardine ! 
 
 A 'ihnr. What, ho, Barn irdine ! 
 
 Biit-nrii: [ Wilhin.] A pox o' your throats ! 
 WIio makes that noise tliere? What are yoiil 
 
 CVo. Vour friends, sir, the han^n)en : you must 
 be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. 
 
 Barnar. [lyuhin.] Away, you rogue, away ; I 
 am sleepy. 
 
 Ahlior. Tell him, he must awake, and that quick- 
 Ij loo. 
 
 C/'i. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till you are 
 exeeuted, and sleep afterwards. 
 
 Ah/ivr. Go in to him, and felcii him out. 
 
 Cl(i. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; 1 liear his 
 straw rustle. 
 
 Eater BAnxAimixE. 
 
 Ahhnr. Is the axe upon the block, sirrali T 
 
 Clo. Verji ready, sir. 
 
 Jiiirnar. How now, .\bhorson? whafs the ncw*s 
 with you '{ 
 
 Ahhnr. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap 
 into your pray'ers; for, look you, tile warrant's 
 come. 
 
 Bnrnnr. You rogue, I liave been drinking all 
 night; I am not fitted for't. 
 
 Clo O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all 
 night, and is hang'd betimes in the morning, may 
 sleep the sounder all the next day. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 AhfwT. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly 
 father. Do we jest now, think you 7 
 
 Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing 
 how hastily you arc to depart, I am come to advise 
 you. comfort you, and pray with you. 
 
 Barnar. Kriar, not I ; I have been drinking hard 
 all niirht. atid I will have more time to prepare me. 
 or they shall beat outjiiy brains with bdlets: I will 
 not consent to die this day, that's certain. 
 
 Duke. O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech 
 you, 
 Look forward on the journey you shall go. 
 
 Barnar. I swear, i will not die to-day for any 
 man's persuasion. 
 
 Duke. But hear yon 
 
 Barnar. Not a word; if you have anything to 
 say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I 
 to-day. " [Exit. 
 
 Enter Provost. 
 
 Duke. "Unfit to live, or die : O, gravel heart !^ 
 After him, feUows; bring him to the block. 
 
 \Eceunf .\uuonsoN (/;?'/ Clown. 
 
 Prov. Now, sir. how do you find the prisoner? 
 
 Duke. A creature imprepared, unmeet for death ; 
 And. to transport him in the mind he is, 
 Were damnable. 
 
 Prae. Here, in the prison, father, 
 
 Tlicre died this morning ofa cruel fever 
 One nagozine, a-most notorious pirate, 
 A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head, 
 Just of his color : What if we do omit 
 This reprobate, till he were well inclined; 
 And satisfy the deputy with the visage 
 Of Kagozine. more like to ClaudioV 
 
 Duke. O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides ! 
 Despatch it presently; the hour draws on 
 I'reli'c'd by Angelo: Sec this be done. 
 And sent according to command; whiles I 
 Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. 
 
 Prii:.<. This shall be done, good father, presently. 
 Rut Barnardine must die this afternoon: 
 And how shall we continue t'laudio. 
 To save me from the danger that might come, 
 If he were known alive ! 
 
 Duke. Let this be done : put them in secret holds, 
 Both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice 
 The sun hath made his journal greeting to 
 The under generation,' you shall find 
 'Vour safety manifested. 
 
 Prnv. 1 am your free dependant. 
 
 Duke. Quick, despatch, 
 
 And send the head to Angelo. [E.rU Provost. 
 
 Now will I write letters to Angelo, — 
 « The aatipodes. 
 
 rhe Provost, he shall bear tnem, whose contents 
 Shall witness to him, I am near at home; 
 And that by great injunctions I am bound 
 To enter pubiicly: lum 111 desire 
 To meet me at the consecrated fount, 
 A league below the city ; and from thence. 
 By cold gradation and weal-balanced form. 
 We shah proceed with Angelo. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Pror. Here is the head ; I'll carry it myself. 
 
 Duke. Convenient is it: .Make a swift return. 
 For I would commune with you of such things, 
 That want no ears but yours. 
 
 Prcie. Ill make all speed. [Exit, 
 
 huh. [Wifliin.} Peace, bo. be here ! 
 
 Duke. The tongue of Isabel: — She's come to 
 know, 
 If yet her brother's pardon be come hither: 
 But I will keep her ignorant ofher good, 
 To make her heavenly comforts of despair, 
 When it is least expected. 
 
 Enter Isabella. ■ 
 
 hah. Ho, by your leave. 
 
 Duke. Good rnorning to you, fair and gracious 
 daughter. 
 
 hah. The better, given me by so holy a man. 
 Hatli yet the deputy sent my brothers pardon'' 
 
 Duke. He hath relcas'd him, Isabel, from the 
 world : 
 His head is off. and sent to Angelo. 
 
 Isab. Nay, but it is not so. 
 
 Duke. It is no other: 
 
 Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience, 
 
 Isah. O, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes. 
 
 Duke. "V'ou shall not be admitted to his siglit. 
 
 Isab. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel! 
 Injurious world! Most damned ,\ngeIo ! 
 
 Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot; 
 Forbear it therefore; give your cause to lieaven. 
 Mark what 1 say ; which you shall tind 
 By every syllable, a faithful verity. 
 The duke comes home to-morrow ; — nay, dry your 
 
 eyes ; 
 One of our convent, atid his confesssor, 
 Gives me this instance : Already lie hath carried 
 Notice to Escalus and jVngelo ; 
 Who do prepare to meet him at the gates. 
 There to give up their power. If you can, pace 
 
 your wisdom 
 In that good path that I would wish it go ; 
 And yoii shall have your bosom' on this wretch, 
 Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, 
 And general honor. 
 
 hah. I am directed by you. 
 
 Duke. This letter then to I'riar Peter give ; 
 "Tis that he sent me of the duke'.s return : 
 Say. by this token, I desire bis company 
 At Mariana's liouse to-night. Her cause, and yours, 
 I'll perfect him withal ; and he shall bring you 
 Before the duke ; and to the head of Angelo 
 Accuse him home, and liome. For my poor self, 
 I am combined by a sacred vow, 
 And shall be absent. Wend" you with this' letter: 
 Command the.se fretting waters from your eyes 
 With a light heart; trust not my holy order. 
 If I pervert your course. — Who's here? 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 T.tiein. Good even ! 
 
 Friar, where is the provost'! 
 
 Duke. Not within, sir. 
 
 Lucio. 0, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, 
 to see thine eyes so red : thou must he patient : I am 
 fain to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare 
 not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal 
 would set mc to 't : But they say the duke will be 
 here to-morrow. By my troth. Isabel. I lov'd thy 
 brother: if the old fantastical duke of dark corners 
 had been at home, he had lived. [Exit Isabella. 
 
 Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholden 
 to your reports ; but the best is, he lives not in them. 
 
 l.ucin. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well 
 as I do: he's a better woodman than thou takest 
 him for. 
 
 Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. Faro 
 ye well. 
 
 8 Your heart's desire. » Go. 
 
5)0 
 
 MEASUEE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Liiciii. Nav. tarry; IIP fco along with tliee ; I 
 can tell llioo pri'tty laics of the duke. 
 
 D'lke. You have tokl me too many of Iiim al- 
 ready, sir, if tliey he true ; if not true, none were 
 enough. 
 
 Lucio. I was once before liim for gettmg a wench 
 witli child. 
 
 Duke. Did you sucli a thing'! 
 
 Lucii^. Yes, marry, did I : but was fain to for- 
 swear it; they would else liave married me to the 
 rotten medlar. 
 
 Duke. Sir. your company is fairer than honest: 
 Rest you well. 
 
 Lucid. By my troth. I'll go with thee to the lane's 
 end : If bawdy' talk olTend you, we'll have very lit- 
 tle of it: Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr, I shall 
 stick. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — .4 Rdom in Angelo's House. 
 Enter Angelo and Escalus. 
 
 Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch'd 
 other. 
 
 Ang. In most uneven and distracted manner. 
 His actions show much like to madness: pray 
 heaven, his wisdom be not tainted! And why meel 
 him at the gates, and re-deliver our authorities 
 tliere ! 
 
 Escal. I guess not. 
 
 jl)!^-. And why should we proclaim it in an hour 
 Before liis entering, that, if any crave redress of 
 inju-stice, they should exhibit their petitions in the 
 street ! 
 
 Escal. He shows his reason for that : to have a 
 despatch of complaints, and to deliver us from de- 
 vices hereafter, which shall then have no power to 
 stand against us. 
 
 Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim d : 
 Betimes i' the morn, I'll call you at your house : 
 Give notice to such men of sort and suit' 
 As are to meet him. 
 
 Escal. I shall, sir; fare you well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 AniK. Good night. 
 This deed uiishapes me quite, makes me unpreg- 
 
 nant. 
 And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid ! 
 And by an eminent body, that enforced 
 The law against it! — but that her tender shame 
 Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, 
 How might she tongue me'! Yet reason dares 
 
 her'! — no: 
 For my authority bears a credent bulk. 
 That lio particular scandal once can touch. 
 But it confounds the breather. He should have liv'd. 
 Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense, 
 
 Might, in the tiiues to c ime, have ta en revenge, 
 
 By so receiving a djshonor'd life. 
 
 Willi ransom ifS such shame. 'Would yet he had 
 
 lived! 
 Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, 
 Nothing goes right ; we would, and we would not 
 
 [ExU. 
 SCENE Y ^Fields ivUtiouttlie town. 
 Enter Duke in liis own liabil and Friar PETin. 
 
 Duke. These letters at fit time deliver me. 
 
 IG'ving letters. 
 The provost knows our purpose, and our plot. 
 The matter being afoot, keep your instruction. 
 Ami hoM V'Hl ever to our special drift; 
 Tlioiigh sometimes you do bleneha from this to that, 
 As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius' house, 
 And tell him where I stay : give the like notice 
 To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, 
 And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate ; 
 But send me Flavius first. 
 F. Peter. It shall be speeded well, 
 
 [Exit Friar. 
 Enter y\nnjvs. 
 
 Duke. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made 
 good haste : 
 Come, we will walk : There's other of our friends 
 Will greet us liere anon, my gentle Varrius. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE XI.— Street near tlis city gate. 
 Enter Isabklla and Mariana. 
 Isab. To speak so indirectly, I am loath; 
 I would say the truth ; but to accuse him so, 
 riiat is your part : yet I'm advis'd to do it ; 
 He says, to veil full< purpose. 
 Mari. Be rul'd by him. 
 
 Isab. Besides he tells me, that if pcradventure 
 He speak against me on the adverse side, 
 1 should not think it strange ; for 'tis a physic 
 riiat's bitter to sweet end. , 
 Atari. I would, friar Peter — 
 Isab. O, peace; the friar is come. 
 
 Enter Friar Peter. 
 F. Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand 
 most fit. 
 Where you may have such 'vantage on the duke. 
 He shall not pass you ; Twice have the trumpets 
 
 sounded ; 
 The generous' and gravest citizens 
 Have hent« the gates, and very near upon 
 The duke is ent'ring ; therefore hence, away. 
 
 [Exeunl. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— -4 public place 7iear tlie City Gate. 
 
 Martaxa (veil'd), Isarella and Peter at a 
 distance. Enter at opposite doors, Duke, Var- 
 rius, Lords; A^r.ELO, Escalus, Lrcio, Pro- 
 vost, Officers, and Citizens. 
 Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met : — 
 Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. 
 Ang. anl Escal. Happy return be to your royal 
 
 grace ! 
 Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. 
 We have made inquiry of you ; and we hear 
 Such goodnes.s of your justice, that our soul 
 Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, 
 Forerunning more requital. 
 
 Am;. You make my bonds still greater. 
 
 Dulce. O, your desert speaks loud; and I should 
 wrong it 
 To lock it in the wards of covert bosom. 
 When it deserves with characters of brass 
 A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time 
 And razure of oblivion: Give me your hand, 
 And let the subject see, to make them know 
 That outward courtesies would fiin proclaim 
 Favors that keep within. — l_'ome, Escalus: 
 3 Figurj liud rank. 
 
 You must walk- by us on our other hand ; — 
 And good supporters are you. 
 
 Peter and Isabelia come foreword. 
 
 F. Peter. Now is your time; speak loud, and 
 kneel before him. 
 
 Isab. Justice, O royal Duke! Vail'' your regard 
 Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid ! 
 O worthy prince, dishonor not your eye 
 By throwing it on any other object. 
 Till you have heard me in my true complaint, 
 And give me justice, justice, justice, justice ! 
 
 Duke. Relate your wrongs: In what; Bywhoml 
 Be brief: 
 Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice; 
 Reveal yourself to him. 
 
 /,„(,. 0, worthy duke, 
 
 \ou bid me seek redemption of the devil : 
 Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak 
 Musteithernunish me, not being believ'd. 
 Or wring redress from you: hear me.O.hcar me, here. 
 
 Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are nothrm: 
 She hath been a suitor to me for her brotlier 
 Cut olf by course of justice. 
 
 s Start oU. « .^vailful. iMosluoWe. 
 
 » Siiztd. '' Lower. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 07 
 
 Isab, By course nf justice! 
 
 A?ig. And slie will speak most bitterly and stran^re. 
 
 Isab. Most slran^e, but yet most truly will 1 speak: 
 That AngeJos forsworn, is it not stranu^e ? 
 That An^elo*s a murde cr, is't not strange? 
 That AngL'lo is an adulterous thief, 
 An hypocrite, a vir:^ni-violator; 
 Is it not strange, and strange ! 
 
 Duke. rsay. ten times strange. 
 
 Isab. It is not truer he is An^elo, 
 Than this is all as true as it is strani^e : 
 Nay, it is ten times true: for truth is truth 
 To the end of reckoning. 
 
 Duke. Away with her: Poor soul, 
 
 She speaks this in the infirmity of sen.se, 
 
 Is(tt>. () prince. 1 conjure thee, as thou bellev'st 
 There is another comfort than this \%*or!d, 
 That thou ne^iiect me not with that opinion 
 That 1 am touch'd wtlh madness: make not impos- 
 sible 
 That which but seems unlike; 'tis not impossible, 
 But one. the wicked'st caititf on the grouna. 
 May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, 
 As Ani:eIo: even so may Angclo, 
 In all his dressings,* characts, titles, forms, 
 Be an arch-villam: believe it, royal prince, 
 If he be le-^s. he s nothmi;; but he's more. 
 Had i more name for badness. 
 
 Dicke. By mine honesty, 
 
 If she be mad, fas I believe no other,) 
 Her madness hath the oddest ft-ame of sense, 
 Such a dependency of thing on thing. 
 As e'er I lieard in madness. 
 
 Isab. O, gracious duke. 
 
 Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason 
 For inequality; but let your reason serve 
 To make the truth appear, where it seems hid ; 
 And hide tlie false, seems true. 
 
 Duke. Many that are not mad, 
 
 Ha^'fe sure more lack of reason. \V hat would you say"? 
 
 Imb. I am the sister of unc Claudio, 
 Condemn'd, upon the law of fornication, 
 To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo f 
 I, in probation of a sisterliood, 
 Was sent to by my brother : one Lucio 
 Was then the messenger; — 
 
 Luico. That's I, an'tlike your grace : 
 
 [ came to her from Claudio, and desired her 
 To try her gracious tbrtune with lord Angelo, 
 For her poor brothers pardon. 
 
 Ifab. That's he, indeed. 
 
 Duke. You were not bid to speak. 
 
 Lucio. No, my good lord ; 
 
 Nor wish'd to hold my peace. 
 
 Duke. 1 wish you now then; 
 
 pray you. take note of it; and wlien you have 
 A business for yourself, pray heaven, you tiien 
 Be perfect. 
 
 Lu<:io. I warrant your honor. 
 
 Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to it. 
 
 Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. 
 
 Lucia. Right. 
 
 Duke. It may be riglit ; but you are in the wrong 
 To speak before your time. — Proceed. 
 
 Isab. I went 
 
 To this pernicious caititT deputy — 
 
 Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken. 
 
 Isab- Pardon it ; 
 
 The phrase is to the matter. 
 
 Duke. Mended again: the matter ? — Proceed. 
 
 Isab. In briet^. — to set the needless process by, 
 How I persuaded how I nrnyd and kneel'd, 
 How he refeird^ me. and how I reply'd; 
 (For this was of much lenirth;^ the vde conclusion 
 I now begin with irrief and shame to utter; 
 He would not but by gift of my chaste body 
 To his concupiscible intemperate lust. 
 Release my brother; and after much debatement 
 My sisterly remorse* confutes mine honor, 
 And I did yield to him: But the nextmorn betimes, 
 His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant 
 For my poor brothers head. 
 
 Duke. This is most likely. 
 
 Isab. 0, that it were as like, as it is true ! 
 
 Duke- By heaven. fond» wretch, thou kTiow'st 
 not what thou sneak'st; 
 Or else thou art suborned a-^ainst his honor. 
 In hateful praHice: First, his integrity 
 
 « Habits and rharacters of offici*. • Refuted. 
 
 » Pity. « Fooolish. 
 
 7 
 
 Stands without blemish :*Next. it imports no reason, 
 That with such vchemency he should pursue 
 Faults proper to himself: If he had so oUeiided, 
 He would have weigh'd thy brother by liimself. 
 And not have cut him oil: Someone hath set you on: 
 Confess the truth, and say hy whose advice 
 Thou cam'st here to complain. 
 
 I ab. And is this all? 
 
 Then, oh. you blessed ministers above. 
 Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time. 
 Untold the evil which is here wrapt up 
 In countenance! — Heaven shield your grace from 
 
 woe. 
 As I. thus wrong'd hence unbelieved go. 
 
 Duke. I know you d fain be ijone: — An ollicer! 
 To prison with her: — Shall we thus pennit 
 A blastinsi and a scandalous breath to tall 
 On hira so near us ! This needs mu-t be a practice. 
 Who knew of your intent, and coming hither] 
 
 Isa't. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick. 
 
 Duke- \ gliostly father, belike. — Who knows 
 that Lodowick l 
 
 L-icio. My lord, I know h'm; 'tis a meddling friar; 
 I do not like the man: had he been hiy, my lord, 
 For certain words he spake against your g'rice 
 In your retirement. I had sw UL'ed him soundly. 
 
 Duke- Words against me! 'rhisagoodfriar,helibe! 
 And to set on this wretctied woman here 
 Against our substitute ! — Let this iriarbe found. 
 
 Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar 
 I saw them at the j)rison : a saucy friar, 
 A very scurvy fellow. 
 
 F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace! 
 
 I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard 
 Vour royal ear abus'd : First, hath this woman 
 Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute: 
 Who is as free from touch or soil with her 
 As she from one ungot. 
 
 Duke. ^ We did believe no less. 
 
 Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of ? 
 
 F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy: 
 Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler. 
 As he's reported by this gentleman ; 
 And, on my trust, a man that never yet, 
 Ditl.as he vouches, misreport your grace. 
 
 L'icio. My lord, most vil'anously ! believe it. 
 
 F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear 
 himself; 
 But at this instant he is sick, mjf lord. 
 Of a strange lever: Upon his mere request. 
 (Being come to knowledgethat there was conipl.aint 
 Intended "gainst lord Aniielo,) came I hillier. 
 To speak, as from his mouth, what he dolh know 
 Is true, an'l false; and what he with his oath. 
 And all probation, will make up lull clear. 
 Whensoever he's convented.* First, for this woman, 
 (To justify this worthy nobleman, 
 So vukarly* and personally accus'd.) 
 Her shall you hear disprove to her eyes, 
 Tii! slie herself confess it 
 
 Duke. ' Good friar, let's hear it. 
 
 [IsAKKLLA is Carried off, 'guarded ; and 
 M \niANA cotnrs fohvard. 
 Do you not smile at this. lord Angelo? — 
 
 heaven! the vanity of wretched fools! 
 Give us some seats. — Come, cousin Angelo, 
 In this I'll be impartial ; be your judge' 
 
 Of your own cause. — Is this the witness, friar? 
 First, let her show her face ; and, after, speak. 
 
 Miri. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my face, 
 Until my husband bid me. 
 
 D'tke. What, are you married! 
 
 MiiKi. No, my lord. 
 
 D'lkc. Are you a maid? 
 
 Mfiri. No. my lord 
 
 Duke. A widow thcnl 
 
 Marl. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Dftke. Why. you 
 
 Are nothin? then: — Neitliermaid, widow. Tioi- wife? 
 
 Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many 
 of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. 
 
 Duke. .Silence that fellow: I would, he had 
 some cause 
 To prattle for himself. 
 
 Lucio. Well, my lord. 
 
 Ma7'i. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married; 
 \nd. I confess, besides, I am no maid: 
 
 1 have known my husband; yet my husband knows 
 
 not 
 f CoQTened. * Publicly. 
 
98 
 
 MEASUKE FOE MEASURE. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Tliat ever he K'liew me. 
 Licit}. He was drunk, then, my lord; it can be 
 
 no I etter. 
 Duke. For the benefit of silence, 'would thou 
 
 .wert so too ! 
 Lucio. Well, my lord. 
 Duh'e. This IS no witness for lord Aiigelo. 
 Marl. Now I come to't, my lord : 
 She tliat accuses him of forn'ication. 
 In self-same manner doth accuse my husband: 
 And chari^es him, my lord, with such a time, 
 When I'll depose 1 had him in mine arms. 
 With all the etlect of love. 
 Ang. Charges she more than mel 
 
 Mari. Not that I know. 
 
 D'tke. No ! you say your husbandl 
 
 Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, 
 Wlio thinks, he knows, that he ne'er knew my body, 
 Uut knows, hetiiinks, tiat he knows Isabel's. 
 An^. Thisisastranire abuse:* — Let's see thy face. 
 Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask, 
 
 {Unveiling. 
 This is that face, thou cruel Anjclo, 
 Which once thou swor'st was worth thelooking on: 
 This is the hand, which, in a vow'd contract, 
 Was fast bclock'd in thine: this is the body 
 That took away the match from Isabel, 
 And did supply thee at thy garden-house, 
 In her imagiri'd person. 
 JJuke. Know you this woman ? 
 
 Lucio. Carnally, she says. 
 Duke. ' Sirrah, no more. 
 
 Lucio. Enough, my lord. 
 
 Ang. My lord, I must confess I know this woman: 
 And, five years since, there was some speech of 
 
 marrtai^e 
 Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, 
 Partly, for that her promised proportions 
 Come short of composition; but in chief, 
 For that her reputation was disvalued 
 In levity : since which time, of five years, 
 I never spake with her. saw her, norlieard from her, 
 Upon my faith and honor. 
 
 Mari. Noble prince. 
 
 As there comes light from heaven, and words from 
 
 breath. 
 As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, 
 I am affianced this man's wife, as strongly 
 As words could make up vows; and, my good lord. 
 But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden-house, 
 He knew me as a wife : As this is true 
 Let nic in safety raise me from my knees, 
 Or else forever be confixed here, 
 A marble monument ! 
 
 Ang. I did but smile till now : 
 
 Now. good my lord, give me the scope of justice; 
 My jialience hero is touch'd: I do perceive. 
 These poor informaje women are no more 
 But instruments of some more mightier member, 
 That sets tiieni on : Let me have way, my lord, 
 To find this practice' out. 
 
 Duke. Ay, with my heart; 
 
 And punish them unto your height of pleasure. — 
 Tlion foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman. 
 Compact with her that's gone I think'st thou thy 
 
 oaths, 
 Though they would swear down each particular 
 
 saint. 
 Were testimonies against his worth and credit. 
 That's seai'd in approbation? — Von, lord F.scalus, 
 Sit with my cousin; lend him your kintl pains 
 To finii out this abuse, whence 'tis derived. — 
 There is another friar that set tliem on; 
 Let him be sent for. 
 F. Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for he, 
 indeed. 
 ITath set the woman on to this comj^laint: 
 Your provost l^iiows the place where he abides, 
 And he may fetch him. 
 
 Duke. Go do it instantly.— lE.rit Provost. 
 
 And you, my no'ie. and well-warranted cousin. 
 Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, 
 Po with your injuries as seems you best, 
 Tu any chastisement : I, for a while. 
 Will leave you ; but stir not you, till you have well 
 Determined upen tliese slanderers. 
 
 E.^cul. !\Iy lord, we'll do it thorouglily. — [Exit 
 Puke.] Si;.;ii:or Lucio, did not you say, you knew 
 that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person'! 
 » Deception. « Crazy, ' Couspii'aey. 
 
 LtiC'O. Cucullus ""u faeil monachuin : honest 
 in nothing but in his clothes; and one that hath 
 sjjoke most villnnnus speeches oft! e dii' e. 
 
 Escul. Wesliall entreat you to abide here till he 
 come, and cntitree them against him: we shall find 
 this friar a notable lellow. 
 
 L'lcio. As any in Vienna, on my word. 
 
 Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again; 
 [Tatm Affendtmt-] I would speak with her: Pray 
 you. my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall 
 see liow I'll handle her. 
 
 Luciji. Not better than he, by her own report. 
 
 EfciU. Say you '! 
 
 L'lcin. Marry, sir, I think, if you liandled her 
 privately, she would sooner confess ; perchance 
 publiclj' she'll be ashamed. 
 
 Re-enter Officers, ivith Isabella ; the Duke, in the 
 Friar's habit, and Provost. 
 
 Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. 
 
 L'icin. That's the way ; for women are light at 
 midnight. 
 
 Escal. Come on, mistress: [Tn Isabella.1 here's 
 a L'entlewoman denies all that you have said. 
 
 L'lcifi. M y lord, here comes the rascal 1 spoke of; 
 he:e with the provost. 
 
 Exeat. In very good time: — speak not you to 
 him, till we call upon you. 
 
 L'icio. Mum. 
 
 Escal. Come, sir; Did you set these women on 
 to slander lord Angelo ! they have confessd you 
 did. 
 
 Dake. 'Tis false. 
 
 Escut. How! know you where you are ? 
 
 Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the 
 devil 
 Be some time honored for his burning throne: — 
 Where is the dukel tis he should hear me speak. 
 
 Escal. The duke's in us; and we will hear you 
 speak : 
 Look, you speak justly. 
 
 Duke. Boldly, at least; — But, O. poor souls, 
 Come you to seek the lamb here of the Ibx '! 
 Good liight to your redress. Is the duke gone 1 
 Then is your cause gone too. The dukes unjust, 
 Tlius to retort your manifest appeal. 
 And put your trial in the vihanfs mouth, 
 Whicli here you come to accuse. 
 
 Lucia. This is the rascal ; this is he I spoke of. 
 
 Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd 
 friar ! 
 Is't not enou£h,that thou hast suborn'd these women, 
 To accuse this worthy man; but in foul mouth, 
 And in the witness of his proper ear. 
 To call him villain '! 
 
 .And then, glance from him to the duke himself; 
 To tax him with injustice ? — Take bun hence; 
 To the rack with him: — Well touze jou joint by 
 
 joint. 
 But we will know this purpose :— What ! unjust ! 
 
 Duke. Be not so hot ; the duke 
 Dare no more sh-etch this finger of mine, than he 
 Dare rack his own : his subject am I not. 
 Nor here provincial : My business in this slate 
 Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, 
 Where 1 have seen corruption boil and bubble. 
 Till it o'er-run the stew: laws for all faults; 
 But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes 
 Stand like the forfeits in a barbers shop, 
 .\s much in mock as mark. 
 
 Escal. Slander to the state ! .\way with mm to 
 prison. 
 
 Ang. What can you vouch against Inm, signior 
 Lucio"! 
 Is this the man that you did tell us or"! 
 
 Lucia. 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman 
 balrVpate : Do you 'know me ! 
 
 Duke. 1 remember you, sir, by the sound of your 
 voice. I met you at the prison in the absence of 
 the duke. 
 
 Luciii. O, did you so'! And do you remember 
 what you said of the duke I 
 
 Duke. Most notedly, sir. 
 
 Lurin. Do you so, sir? xVnd was the duke a 
 flesli-monger, a fool, and a coward, as you then re- 
 ported him to be "! 
 
 Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, 
 ere yon make tliat my report: you. indeed, spoke 
 so of him; and much inore, much worse. 
 
ScEXi: I. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 99 
 
 Lucio. tliou damnable follow ! Did not I pluck 
 thee by the nose for thy S])eeches I 
 
 Dukt. I protest I love the duke as I love myself. 
 
 Ait^. Hark! how tlie villain would close now, 
 after his treasonable abuses. 
 
 Esail. Such a IcUow is not to be talked withal : — 
 Awaywith him to j^rison. Where istheprovost ! — 
 Away witli him to prison; lay bolts enough ui-on 
 him ; let him speak no more. Away with those gig- 
 lots* too, and with the other confederate companion. 
 [Tlie Provost Inijs hands on ike Duke. 
 
 Duke. Stay, .sir; stay awhde. 
 
 Aug. What! resists he ! Help him Lucio. 
 
 Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir: 
 Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal ! you must be 
 hooded, must youl Show your knave's visage! 
 with a pox to "you ! show your .^hee^-biling face, 
 and be hang'd an hour ! Will t not otl .' 
 
 IPull.'i (ijj'the FrUirs hnod, and 
 di<icnrers the "Duke. 
 
 Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er made a 
 
 duke. • 
 
 First, provost, let me bail these gentle three: 
 
 Sneak not away, sir ; [Tu Lccio.] for the friar and 
 
 you,' 
 Must have a word anon : — Lay hold on him. 
 
 Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging. 
 
 Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon ; sit you 
 
 down. [To EscALi's. 
 
 We'll borrow place of him : — Sir, by your leave ; 
 
 [To ASGELO. 
 
 Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence. 
 That yet can do thee ollice 1 If thou hast, 
 Rely ujjon it till my tale be heard, 
 And hold no longer out. 
 
 Aug. O my dread lord, 
 
 I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, 
 To think I can be undiscernible. 
 When I perceive your grace, like power divine. 
 Hath look'd upon my passes :» Then, good prince, 
 No longer session hold upon my shame. 
 But lefmy trial be mine own confession ; 
 Immediate sentence then, and sequent' death, 
 Is all the grace 1 beg. 
 
 Duke. Come hither, Mariana : — 
 
 Say, wast tliou e'er contracted to this woman ! 
 
 Aug. I was, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Go, take her hence, and marry her in- 
 stantly. — 
 Do you the oflice, friar; which consummate, 
 Return liim here again : — Go with him, provost. 
 
 [Exeunt Angelo, MiniAXA, Peteb, 
 and Provost. 
 
 Escal. My lord, I am more amazed at his dis- 
 honor. 
 Than at the strangeness of it. 
 
 Duke. Come hither, Isabel : 
 
 Your friar is now your prince: As I was then 
 Advertising,' and holy to your business. 
 Not changing heart with habit, I am still 
 Attorney'd at your service. 
 
 Iga'j. give me pardon. 
 
 That I, your vassal, have cmploy'd and pain'd 
 Your unknown sovereignty. 
 
 Duke. . You are pardon'd Isabel : 
 
 And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. 
 Your brothers death, I know, sits at your heart; 
 And you may mai'vel why I obscurd myself. 
 Laboring to save his life ; and v.'ould not rather 
 Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power, 
 Than let iiim be so lost : O, most kind maid, 
 It was the swift celerity of his death. 
 Which I did think with slower foot came on. 
 That braind my purpose : But peace be with liim ! 
 That life is better life, past fearing death. 
 Than that which lives to fear; make it your comfort. 
 So happy is your brother. 
 
 Re-enter Asgelo, Mahiaxa, Peter, and Provost. 
 
 Tsab. I do, my lord. 
 
 Duke. For this new-married man, approaching 
 here. 
 Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd 
 Your well-defended honor, you must pardon 
 For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother, 
 (Being criminal, in double violation 
 Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach. 
 Thereon dependant for your brother's life,) 
 B ^Vantous. " Devices 
 
 1 FoUo^ving. ^ Attentive. 
 
 The very mercy of the law cries out 
 Most audible, even from Ins proper tongue, 
 "An Angelo for Claudio, death tor deatli.' 
 Haste still plays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; 
 Like doth quit like, and "Measure still for Mea- 
 sure ! " 
 Then. Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; 
 W Inch though thou would'st deny, denies thee van- 
 tage: 
 We do condemn thee to the very block 
 Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like 
 
 haste : — 
 Away with him. 
 
 Mali. my most gracious lord. 
 
 I hope you will not mock me with a husband! 
 
 Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a 
 husband ; 
 Consenting to the safeguard of 5-our honor, 
 1 thought your marriage fit ; else imputation. 
 For that he knew you, might reproach your life. 
 And choke your good^to come : for his possessions. 
 Although by confiscation tliey are ours, 
 We do instate and widow you withal. 
 To buy you a better husband. 
 
 Mari. O, my dear lord, 
 
 I crave no other nor no better man. 
 
 Duke. Never crave him ; we are definitive. 
 
 !\f/irL Gentle my liege,— [Kneeling. 
 
 Duke. You do but lose yotir labor; 
 
 Awaywith him to death. — Now, sir, IfTu Lvcio.] 
 to you. 
 
 Mari. O, my good lord ! — Sweet Isabel, take my 
 part; 
 Lend me your knees, and all my life to come 
 I'll lend you all my life to do you service. 
 
 Duke. Against all sense you do impftrtune her- 
 Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, 
 Her brother's 'zhost his paved bed would break, 
 .\nd take her hence in horror. 
 
 Mart. Isabel, 
 
 Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; 
 Hold up your hands; say nothing; I'll speak all. 
 They say, best men are moulded out of faults; 
 And, for the most, become much more the better 
 For being a little bad: so may my husband. 
 0, Isabel ! will you not lend a knee ! 
 
 Duke. He dies for Claudio s death. 
 
 Isab. Most bounteous sir, 
 
 [Kneeting. 
 Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd. 
 As if my brother liv'd: I partly think, 
 A due sincerity govcrn'd his deeds. 
 Till he did look on me ; since it is so. 
 Let him not die: My brother had but justice, 
 In that he did the thing for which he died: 
 For Angelo, 
 
 His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, 
 .And must be buried but as an intent 
 Tliat perished by the way : thouglitsare no subjects; 
 Intents but merely tlioughts. 
 
 Mari. Merely, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I 
 say. — 
 I have bethought me of another fault: 
 Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded 
 At an unusual hourl 
 
 Prof- It was commanded so. 
 
 Duke. Had yon a special warrant for the deed ' 
 
 Proi\ No, my good lord; it was by private mes- 
 sage. 
 
 Duke. For wliich I do discharge you of your office: 
 Give up your keys. 
 
 Pror. Pardon me, noble lord : 
 
 I thought it was a t^iult, but knew it not ; 
 Yet did repent ine arter more advice :« 
 For testimony whereof, one in the prison. 
 That should by private order else have died, 
 I have reserv'd alive. 
 
 Duke. What's he 1 
 
 Pror. His name is Barnardine. 
 
 Duke. I would thou liadst done so by Claudio. — 
 Go, fetch liim hither; let me look upon him. 
 
 [Exit Provost. 
 
 Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise 
 As you, lord .\ngelb, have still appear'd. 
 Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. 
 And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. 
 
 Aug, I am sorry, that such sorrow I procure: 
 .And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart, 
 3 Consideration. 
 
100 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Tliat I crave death more willingly than mercy; 
 'Tis my deserving, and 1 do entreat it. 
 Re-enter Provost, Baunaudine, Claudio, anil 
 
 Juliet. 
 Dufcf. Which is that Barnardine ? 
 Prov. This, my lord. 
 
 Duke. There vras a friar told me of this man. 
 Sirrah, thou art said to have a stuhhorn sonl, 
 That apprehends no further than this world. 
 And squarst thy life according. Thou'rt condemned; 
 But, for those earthly faults I quit them all; 
 And pray thee, take this mercy to provide 
 For better times to come : — Kriar, advise him ; 
 I leave him to your hand. — What muffled fellow's 
 that i 
 Prov. This is another prisoner, that I sav'd, 
 That should have died when Claudio lost his head ; 
 As like almost to Claudio as himself. 
 
 [UiimiMes Claudio. 
 Duke. If he be like your brother, [To Isabella.] 
 for his sake 
 Is he pardon 'd ; and for your lovely sake. 
 Give me your hand, and say you will be mine. 
 He is my' brother too : But fitter time for that 
 By this lord Angelo perceives he's safe ; 
 Methinks I see a quick'ning in his eye: 
 Well, Angelo, your evil quits* you well; 
 Look that you love your wife ; her worth, worth 
 
 j^ours. — 
 I find an apt remission in myself: 
 And yet here's one in place 1 cannot pardon : 
 You, sirrah, [To Lccio.^ that knew me for a fool, 
 
 a coward, 
 One all of luxury, an ass, a madman: 
 W herein have I so deserved of you, 
 That you extol me thus f 
 Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according 
 * Bequito 
 
 to the trick:' If you will hang me for it, you may 
 hut 1 had rather it would please you, I might be 
 whipp'd. 
 
 Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hong'd after. — 
 Proclaim it, provost, round about tlic city ; 
 If any woman's wrong'd by tJiis lewd fellow, 
 (As 1 have heard him swear himself, there's one 
 Whom he begot with child,) let her appear. 
 And he shall marry her: the nuptuai hnish'd, 
 Let him be whipp'd and hangd. 
 
 Lucin. I beseech your highness, do not marry me 
 to a whore. Your highness said even now, I made 
 you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me, 
 in making me a cuckold. 
 
 Duke. Upon mine honor, thou slialt marry her. 
 Thy slanders I forgive ; and wherewithal 
 Remit thy other I'orfeits: — Take liim to prison: 
 And see our pleasure herein executed. 
 
 Luch. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to 
 death, whipping, and hanging. 
 
 Duke Sland'ring a prince deserves it. — 
 Sire, Claudio, that you wrongd look you restore, 
 .loy to you, Mariana! — love "her, Angelo; 
 I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue. — 
 Tlianks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: 
 There's more behind, that is more gratulate. 
 Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy; 
 We shall employ thee in a worthier place: — 
 Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home 
 The head of Ragozine for Claudio's; 
 The oftence parcions itself. — Dear Isabel, 
 I have a motion much imports your good ; 
 Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline. 
 What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine; 
 So bring us to our palace; where we'll show 
 What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 i Thoughtless practice. 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 i 
 
mv 
 
 r-r-T SM iTii -^^'Kr.'' M.p. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Uos Pedro, Pi'^'nce of Am-xon. 
 Dox John, his Buslurd Brother, 
 Claidio, a yo:iiif; Lurdof Florence, Favorite to 
 
 Don Pedro, 
 Benedick, a younif Inrii of Padua, Favorite like- 
 
 u-ise of Don Pedro. 
 Leoxato, G(tvenior of Messina. 
 Antomo, hii Brother. 
 Balthazab, Serra;;;' /o Don Pedro. ' 
 
 CoSrIde"' \ Followers of Don John. 
 
 Verges,'"'' } '^'^0 foolish officers. 
 A Sexton. 
 A Friar. 
 A Boy. 
 
 Hero, Daughter to Leonato. 
 Beatrice, Niece to Leonato. 
 Margaret, ) Centlewomen atlcniling on litno. 
 
 URSULA, J 
 
 Messengers, Watcli, and Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, Messina. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Before Leonato's House. 
 
 Enter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, and others, 
 tvith a Messenger. 
 
 Leonato. I learn in this letter, that don Pedro of 
 Arragon conies tfiis nii'iil to Messina. 
 
 Mess. He is very Mi\ir lij- this; lie was not three 
 leagues oft", when 1 left him. 
 
 Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in 
 this action ? 
 
 Ale^s. But few of any sort, and none of name. 
 
 Leon. A victory is twice itsell', when the achiever 
 brings home full numbers. I find here that don 
 Pedro hath liestowed much honor on a young Flor- 
 entine, called Claudio. 
 
 Mess. Mucli deserved on Iiis part, and equally 
 remembered by don Pedro: He liuth borne himself 
 beyond the promise of his age; doiiiir, in the figure 
 of a lamb, the feats of a lion : he hatli, iiideed,"bet- 
 ter bettered expectation, than you must expect of 
 me to tell you now. 
 
 Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be 
 very much glad of it. 
 
 Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and 
 there appears much joy in him; even so much, that 
 joy could not show itself modest enough, without 
 a Badge of bitterness, 
 
 Leo)i. Did he break out into tears? 
 
 Mess. In great measure.' 
 
 Leon. A kind overllow of kindness: There are 
 no faces truer than those that are so washed. How 
 much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at 
 weeping ! 
 
 Beat. I pray you. is signior Montanto returned 
 from the wars, or no ] 
 
 Mess. I know none of that name, lady; there 
 was none such in the army of any sort. 
 
 Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? 
 
 Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of 
 Padua. 
 
 Aless. 0, he is returned ; and as pleasant as ever 
 he was. 
 
 Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and 
 I Abundance- 
 
 challenged Cupid at the flight : and my uncle's fool, 
 reading the challenge, subscribed for cupid, and 
 challenged him at the bird-bolt. — I pray you, how 
 many hath he killed and eaten in these wars ? But 
 how many hath he killed 1 for, indeed, I promised 
 to eat all of his killing. 
 
 Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too 
 much; but he'll be meet with you. 1 doubt it,not. 
 
 Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these 
 wars. 
 
 Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp 
 to cat it : he is a very valuable trencher-man, he hath 
 an excellent stomach. 
 
 Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. 
 
 Beat. And a good soldier to a lady: — But what 
 is he to a lord ] 
 
 Jifcss. A lord to a lord, a man to a man ; stuffed 
 with all honorable virtues. 
 
 Beat. It is so, indeed ; he is no less than a stuflfed 
 man :■> but for the stufling. — Well, we are all mortal. 
 
 Lein}. You must not, sir, mistake my niece : there 
 is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick 
 and her: they never meet, but there is a skirmish 
 of wit between them. 
 
 Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last 
 contlict, four of his five wits went halting off, and 
 now is the whole man governed wHli one: so that 
 if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him 
 bear it for a difference between himself and his 
 horse : for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to 
 be known a reasonable creature.- — Who is his com- 
 
 E anion now!. He liath every month a new sworn 
 rot her. 
 
 Mess. !s it possible 1 
 
 Bent. Very easily possible: he w-ears his faith 
 but as the fashion of liis hat, it ever changes with 
 the next block. 
 
 Mess. 1 sec, lady, the gentleman is not in j'our 
 books. 
 
 Beat. No : an he were, I would burn my study. 
 But. I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there no 
 young squarer^ now, that will make a voyage with 
 him to the devil. 
 
 ^ A cuckold. 3 Quarrelsome fellow. 
 
 101 
 
103 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Mexs. He is most in the company of Ihe right no- 
 ble Claudio. 
 
 Beal. O lord! he ivilJ han? upon him like a dis- 
 ease: he is sooner causht than tlie pestilence, and 
 the taker nins presently mad. God lielp the noble 
 Claudio! if he have causht the Benedick, it will 
 cost him a thousand pounS ere he he cured. 
 
 ^/csy. I will hold friends with you, lady. 
 
 Beat. Po, trood friend, 
 
 Lfon, You will never run mad, niece. 
 
 Beat. No, not till a hot January. 
 
 Utess. Don Pedro is approached. 
 
 Enti.r Drill Pr.nno at/ended 61/ Balthazati and 
 others, Dun Juhjj, Claudio, and Btxr.DicK. 
 
 D. Pedrn. Good siirnior Leonato, you are come 
 to meet your trouble : tlie fashion of the world is to 
 avoid cost, and you encounter it. 
 
 Leon. Never came trouble into my house in the 
 likeness of your grace: for trouble being gone, 
 comfort should remain: but, when you depart from 
 me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. 
 
 D. Pedro. Vou embrace your charge too willing- 
 ly.— I think, this is your daughter. 
 
 Ijnn. Her mother hath many times told me so. 
 
 Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that yon asked her ? 
 
 i»on. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a 
 child. 
 
 V. Pedrn. You have it full, Benedick : we may 
 guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, 
 the lady fathers herself: Be happy, lady ! for you 
 are like an honorable father. 
 
 Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would 
 not have his head on her shoulders, for all Messina, 
 as like him as she is. 
 
 Beat. I wonder that you will still be talkmg, 
 signior Benedick; no body marks you. 
 
 Bene. What my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet 
 
 Bmt. Is it possible, disdain should die, while she 
 hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick 1 
 Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come 
 in her presence. . . 
 
 Bene. Then is courtesy a turn-coat:— But it is 
 certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted : 
 and I would I could find in my heart that I had not 
 a h.ird heart; for, truly, I love none. 
 
 Beat. A dear happiness to women ; they vvould 
 else have been trouoled with a pernicious suitor. I 
 thank God, and my cold blood, I am of your humor 
 for that ; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, 
 than a- man swear he loves me. 
 
 Bene. (;od keep your ladyship still m that mind ! 
 so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predesti- 
 nate scratched face. 
 
 Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an 
 'twere such a face as yours were. 
 Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 
 Bent. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast 
 of yours. , , 
 
 Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your 
 tongue ; and so good a continuer: But keep your 
 way o' God's name ; I have done. 
 
 BE<it. You always end with a jade's trick ; I know 
 yon of old. ^ ,. , 
 
 D. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Don John, 
 signior Claudio, and signior Henedick. — my dear 
 fiTend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him, we 
 shall slay here at the least a month ; and he heartily 
 prays, some occasion may detain us longer: I dare 
 SWAT he is no liypocrite, but prays from his heart. 
 L'-on. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be 
 forsworn : — Let me bid you welcome, my lord: be- 
 ing reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you 
 allduty. , 
 
 J5. Jolin. I thank you : I am not of many words, 
 but I tliank you. 
 L'oii. Ple;ise it your grace lead on? 
 1). Pedro. Your baud, Leonato: we will go to- 
 gether. {Exeunt alt tint BKvtmcK and Clavdio. 
 Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter 
 of signior Leonato ? 
 Bine. 1 noted her not; but I looked on her. 
 Claud. Is she not a modest young lady 'i 
 Bene. Do you (picstion me, as an honest man 
 should do, for my sim]ile true judgment ; or vvould 
 you have me speak after my custom, as being a 
 professed tyrant to their sex 1 , . , 
 
 Claud. No, I pray thee, speak ni sober judgment. 
 
 Bene. Why, i'faith, mcthinks she is too low for 
 a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too 
 little for a great praise : only this connnendation I 
 can alTord her ; that were she other than she is, 
 she w ere unhandsome ; and being no other but as 
 she is, I do not like her. 
 
 Claud. Thou tliinkest I am in sport; I pray thee, 
 tell me truly how thou likcst her. 
 
 Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire af- 
 ter her 1 
 
 Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel 1 
 
 Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak 
 you this with a sad brow 1 or do you play the tlout- 
 ing Jack; to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, 
 and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, 111 what key 
 shall a man take you, to go in the song '. 
 
 Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady 'hat 
 ever I lookd on. 
 
 Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see 
 no such matter: there's her cousin, an she were not 
 possessedwith a fury, exceeds her as much in beau- 
 ty, as the first of May doth the last of December. 
 But 1 hope you have no intent to turn husband; 
 have you ' 
 
 Ctaud. I would scarce trust myself, tljough I 
 had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 
 
 Bene. Is it come to this, i'faith 1 Hath not the 
 world one man, but he will wear liis cap with sus- 
 picion ! Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score 
 again? Go to, i'faith ; an thou wilt needs thrust 
 thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh 
 away Sundays.' Look, don Pedro is returned to 
 seek you. 
 
 Re-enter Don PEnno. 
 
 D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that 
 you followed not to Leonato';;? 
 Bene. I would your grace would constrain me to 
 
 tell- , „ . 
 
 D. Pedro. I charge thee, on thy allegiance. 
 
 Bene. You hear, count Claudio: I can be secret 
 as a dumb man, I would have yon think so ; but on 
 mv allegiance, — mark you this, on my allegiance: 
 —'He is in love. With who? — now tliat is your 
 grace's part. — Mark, how short his answer is:- 
 With Hero. Leonato's short daughter. 
 
 Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. 
 
 Bene- Like the old tale, mv lord: it is not so, 
 nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should 
 
 Clf'md. If my passion change not shortly, God 
 forbid it should' be otherwise. . , j • 
 
 XI. Pedro. Amen, if you love her ; for the lady 13 
 very well worthy- . 
 
 Claud. Y'ou speak this to fetch me m, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. By mv troth, I speak my thought. 
 
 Claud. And, 'in taith, my lord. I spoke mine. 
 
 Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my 
 lord, I spoke mine. 
 
 Claud. That I love her, I feel. 
 
 D. Pedrn. That she is worthy, I know 
 
 Bene That I neither feel how she should be 
 loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the 
 opinion that tire cannot melt out of mc; 1 will die 
 in it at the stake. u .• • 1 
 
 I). Pedrn. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic 
 in the despite of beauty. . . . ,- , , , 
 
 Claud. And never could maintain his part, but 
 in tlie force of his will. . , .1, 1 1 
 
 Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; 
 that she brought me up. I likewise give her most 
 humble thanks: hut that I will have a recheaf 
 winded in my forehead, or liang my bngle in an 
 invisible baldric, all women shall pardon mc. Be- 
 cause I will not do them the wrong to mistrust 
 any I will do myself the right to trust none; and 
 tlie fine is. (for the which I may go the finer,) I 
 will live a bachelor. , j- , , i„ 
 
 D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale 
 
 \ene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, 
 m\- lord ! not with love : prove, that ever 1 lose more 
 blood with love, than I will gel agam with drinking, 
 pick out mine eyes with a hallad-m.akcr s pen and 
 liaiig me up at t1ie door of a hi-Dtliel-house, for the 
 siLMi of blind Cui^id. , ^ ,, ^ ,i . 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dosl fall from thi3 
 faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. 
 « The tunc sounded to call off the dogs. 
 
SCEKE II. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTIIIXG. 
 
 103 
 
 Bene. If I do, hanu me in a bottle like a cat, 
 and shoot at me; and lie that hits me, let him be 
 clapperl on the sliouldor, and called Adam.' 
 
 i>. Pedro. Well, as time shall try : 
 III time Ihe iuinige Inill dutli hear the yoke. 
 
 Bene. The savage hull may ; but if ever the sen- 
 Bible Benedick bear il, pkickolfthe bulls horns, and 
 Bet them in mv tiirehead : and let me be vilely paint- 
 ed; and in sucii sreat letters ns they write. Here is 
 good horse to lure, let tliem suiiily under my sisn, 
 flfre you niay .^ec Bi'iiedkk, Ihe married man. 
 
 Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst 
 be horn-mad. . 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his 
 quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. 
 
 Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the 
 hours. In the meantime. Rond signior Benedick, 
 repair to Leonato's; commend me to him, and tell 
 him, 1 will not fail him at supper; for, indeed, he 
 hath made great preparation. 
 
 Bene. 1 have almost matter enougli in me for 
 such an embassa^je ; and so I commit vou — 
 
 Claud. To tlie~tuition of God: Kroin my house, 
 (if I had it,)— , . _. ^ 
 
 D. Pedro. The sixth of July : \ our loving friend, 
 Benedick. „, , , , 
 
 Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of 
 your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, 
 and the guards are but slightly basted on neither; 
 ere you llout old ends any further, examine your 
 conscience; and so 1 leave you. [A'x'i/ BENF.nicK. 
 
 Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me 
 good. 
 
 D. Pedro. My love is thine R) teach; teach it 
 but how. 
 And thou shall sec how apt it is to learn 
 Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 
 
 Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord ! 
 
 D. Pedro. No chdd but Hero, she's his only heir; 
 Dost thou allijcl her, Claudiol 
 
 Claud. O my lord. 
 
 When you went onward on this ended action, 
 I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, 
 That lik'd. but bad a rougher task in hand 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love : 
 But now I am returii'd, and that war-thoughts 
 Have left their places vacant, in tlieir rooms 
 Come thronging sort ami delicate desires. 
 All prompting me bow fur young Hero is, 
 Saving, I lik'd her ere 1 went to wars. 
 
 jb. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently. 
 And tire the hearer with a book of words: 
 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it ; 
 And I will break with her, and with her father, 
 And thou shall have her : Was't not to this end 
 That thou began'st to twist so line a story ! 
 
 Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, 
 That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
 But lest iny liking might too sudden seem. 
 I would have salved it with a longer treatise. 
 
 D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader 
 than the Hood? 
 The feirest grant is the necessity : 
 Look, what will serve, is lit: 'tis once," thou lov st 
 And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
 1 know, we shall have revelling to-night; 
 I will assume thy part in some disguise. 
 And tell fair Hero 1 am Claudio ; 
 And in her bosom 1 II unclasp my heart. 
 And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
 And strong encounter of my amorous tale: 
 Then, after, to her lather will I break; 
 And, the conclusion is. she shall be Ihiiie : 
 In practice let us put il presently. \L.rcuot. 
 
 SCENE II. — A Room in Leonato's House. 
 
 Enter Leos.ito and Antoxio. 
 
 Leon. How now, brother 1 Where is rny cousin, 
 your san ? Hath he provided this music ! 
 
 AnI. He is very busy about il. But, brother, I 
 can tell you strange news that you yet dreamed 
 not of 
 
 Leon. Are they good; 
 
 Ant. As the event stamps Ihem; but they have 
 a "ood cover, they show well outward. The prince 
 and Count Claudio, walking in a thiek-pleaehed- 
 • The namo of a famoas archer. « Once for all. 
 1 Thickly interwoven. 
 
 alley in mv orchard, were thus much overheard by 
 a man of iiiine: The prince discovered to Claudio, 
 that he loveil my niece your daugJiter, and meant 
 to acknosvledge H ihis night in a dance ; and, if he 
 found her accordant, he meant to take the present 
 lime by the top. and instantly break with you of it. 
 
 L'-oi'i. Hath the felloWany wit, tliat told you this? 
 
 Ant. A good sharp fellow ; I will send for him, 
 and question him yourself. 
 
 Lion. No.no; we will hold it as a dream, till it 
 appear itself:— but I will acquaint my daughter 
 wilhal, that she may be the better prepa'red (or an 
 answer, if peradvcnture this be true. Go you, and 
 tell her of it. | S-verul jicrsons cross the stttKe.] 
 Cousins, yon know what you have to do. — <i, t 
 cry you mercy, friend; you go with me, and I will 
 use your skill : — Good cousins, have a care this 
 busy lime. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — Another Room in Leonato's House, 
 Enter Don Jons and CoxnAnr.. 
 
 Con. What the goujere," my lord ! why arc you 
 thus out of measure sad 1 
 
 D. John- There is no measure in the occasion that 
 breeds it, then fore tlie sadness is without limit. 
 
 C(ni, ■\'on sliould bear reason. 
 
 D. John. And when I liave heard it, what blessing 
 bringeth ill . 
 
 Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient suf- 
 ferance. 
 
 D. John. I wonder that thou being (as thou 
 say'st thou art) horn under saturn, goest about to 
 apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. 
 I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad when I 
 have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I 
 have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep 
 when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's business : 
 laugh when I am merry, and claw' no man in his 
 
 humor. , ;• ,, , 
 
 Con. \ca, but you must not make the full show 
 of this, till you may do it without controlment. You 
 have of late stood out against your brother, and he 
 hath la'en you newly into his grace; where it is 
 impossible you should take true root, but by the fair 
 weather that you make yourself: it is needful that 
 yon frame the season for your own harvest. 
 
 D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, 
 than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood 
 to be disdained of all, than to fashion a carriage to 
 rob love from any: in this, though I cannot be said 
 t.) be a nattering honest man. il must not be denied 
 that I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted wiUi 
 a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I 
 have decreed not to sing in mv cage: If I had my 
 mouth, 1 woulil bite; if 1 had my hberty, I would 
 do my liking ; in the mean time, let me be that I am, 
 and seek not to alter me. 
 Cmi. Can you make no use of your discontent .' 
 D. John, r make all use of it. for I use it only. 
 Who comes here'! What news Borachiol 
 
 Enter Boiiachio. 
 
 Bora. I came yonder from a great supper; the 
 prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leo- 
 nato; and I can give you intelligence of an intend- 
 ed marriage. 
 
 D. John. Will il serve for any model to huild 
 mischief on? What is he for a fool, that betroths 
 himself to unquietness! . , , . 
 
 Bora. .Marry, it is your brother s right hand. 
 
 D.John. Who! the most exquisite Claudio .' 
 
 Bora. Even be. . , . , , , i , 
 
 I). John. A proper squire I Xni who, and who ! 
 which way looks he? , , ■ . 
 
 Bio-a. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir ot 
 Leonato. , ,,.,,,» 
 
 D. John. A very for%vard March-chick! How 
 came you to this? 
 
 Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was 
 smokin" a musty room, comes me the prince and 
 Claudio; hand in hand, in sad conference : I whipt 
 me behind the arras ; and there heard it agreed upon, 
 th.it the prince should woo Hero for himselt, and 
 having obtained her, give her to count Claudio. 
 
 D. John. Come, come, let us thither; this may 
 prove food to my displeasure; that young start-up 
 hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross 
 ■ The Toncril disease. ■ Flatter. 
 
104 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT IsOTHIXG. 
 
 Act II 
 
 him any way, I bless myself every way: You are 
 bo:h sure, and will assist meT 
 
 Con. To the death, my lord. 
 
 P. John. Let u§ to the great supper ; their cheer 
 
 is the greater, that I am subdued; Would the cook 
 were of my mind ! — :? liail we go prove what's to be 
 done'! 
 Bora- We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE 1.— .1 Hall in Leonato's House. 
 
 Enter LzoskTO, Avroy 10: Uzno, Beathice and 
 
 others. 
 
 Lean- Was net count John here at snpper? 
 
 Jnf. I saw him not. 
 
 Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never 
 can sec him, but I am heart-burned an hour after, 
 
 i/t'/Yi. fie is of a very melancholy disposition. 
 
 Beat. He were an excellent man, tlint were made 
 jnst in the mid-way between him and licncdicli: 
 the one is too like an image, and says nothinjr ; and 
 the other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore 
 tattling. 
 
 Leiui. Then half signior Benedick's tongne m 
 count John's mouth, and half count John's melan- 
 choly in signior Benedick's face, — 
 
 Beat. WiXh a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, 
 and money enough in his purse, such a man would 
 win any woman in the world, — if he could get her 
 good will. 
 
 Lmn. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get 
 thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. 
 
 AnI. In faitli. she is too curst. 
 
 Beat. Too curst is more than curst : I shall les- 
 son God's sending that way; for it is said, God 
 sends a curst cow short horns; but to a cow too 
 curst he sends none. 
 
 Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you 
 no liorns. 
 
 Beat. Just, if he send me no husband : for the 
 wliich blessmg, 1 am at him upon my knees every 
 morning and evcnim;; Lord! I could not endure 
 a husband with a beard on his face; 1 had rather 
 lie in the woollen. 
 
 Leon. Vou may light upon a husband that hath 
 no beard. 
 
 Beat. What should I do with himT dress him 
 in my apparel, and make hitn my waiting gentle- 
 woman? He that hath a beard, is more than a 
 youth ; and he that hath no beard, is less than a 
 man : and he that is more than a youth is not for. 
 me ; and he that is less than a man. 1 am not for 
 him. Therefore, I will even take sixpence in earn- 
 est of tlie bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. 
 
 Leon. Well then, go you mto hell 1 
 
 Beat. No; but to the gate; and there will the 
 devil meet me, hke an oldf cuckold, with horns on 
 liis iiead, and say. Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get 
 von tu heaven ; here's nri place for you maiili : so 
 deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for 
 the hravens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, 
 and there live we as merry as the day is long. 
 
 .-lr:f. Well, niece. \To Hebo.] I trust you will 
 be ruled by your father. 
 
 Bent. Yes. it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy, 
 and say. Father, as it please you: — but yet for all 
 that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else 
 make another, courtesy, and say. Fattier, as it jileuie 
 70 e. 
 
 Leon. Well, niece, I hope to sec you one day 
 fitted with a husband. 
 
 Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal 
 than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be 
 overmaster'd with a piece of valiant dust to make 
 an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl ! 
 No, uncle, I'll none: .A dam's sons are my brethren; 
 and truly. I hold it a sin to match in niy kindred. 
 
 X"«i?. 'Daughter, remember what I told you: if 
 the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know 
 your answers. 
 
 Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if 
 vou be not woo'd in good time: if the Prince be 
 too importanti tell him. there is measure in every 
 thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, 
 llero; Wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a 
 1 Imitortunate. 
 
 Scotch jig, a measure, and cinqne-pace: the first 
 suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotcli jig, and full as 
 fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a 
 measure full of state and ancientry; and then 
 comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into 
 the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into 
 his grave. 
 Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. 
 Beat. 1 have a good eye, uncle; I can see a 
 church by day-light. 
 
 Leon. The revellers are entering; brother, make 
 good room. 
 Enter Don Pr,nno. CiAi'mo, Beskpick, Bal- 
 
 THAZAit, Don Jotiv, BunACiiio, Margahet, 
 
 I'usiLA, and others, masked. 
 
 D. Pfilro. Lady, will you walk about with your 
 friend ! 
 
 Hero. So you walk softly, and lo<ik sweetly, and 
 say nothing, I am yours lor the walk : and, espe- 
 cially, wlien I walk away. 
 
 D. Pedro. With me in your company 7 
 
 Hero. I may say so when 1 please. 
 
 D. Pedro. And*when please you to say so ? 
 
 Hero. When I like your favor; for God defend, 
 the lute should be like the case ! 
 
 D. Pedro My visor is Philemon's roof; within 
 the house is Jove. 
 
 Hern. Why, then your visor should he thatch'd. 
 
 D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 
 
 [Tuh-es her aside. 
 
 Bene. Well, I would you did like me. 
 
 Marf^. So would not I, for your own sake; for 
 1 have many ill qualities. 
 
 Bene. W^hich is one! 
 
 Marg. 1 say my prayers aloud. 
 
 Bene. I love you the better; the hearers may 
 cry Amen. 
 
 'Marg. God match me with a good dancer! 
 
 Bnlttu Amen. 
 
 Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when 
 the dance is done ! — .Answer, clerk. 
 
 Balth. No more words; the clerk is answered. 
 
 Vrs. I know you well enough; you are signior 
 Antonio. 
 
 Ant. At a word, I am not. 
 
 Vrs. I know you by the wangling of your head, 
 
 Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit hi'ni. 
 
 Vrs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless 
 you were the very man : Here's his dry hand up and 
 down ; you are he, you are he, 
 
 Aot. At a word, I am not. 
 
 Vrs. Come, come: do you think I do not know 
 you by your excellent wit ! Can virtue hide itself ! 
 Go to, mum, you are he: graces will appear, and 
 there's an end. 
 
 Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? 
 
 Bene. No, you shall pardon me. 
 
 Brut. Nor will you not tell me who you arel 
 
 Bene. Not now. 
 
 B'-ot. That 1 was disdainful. — and that I had my 
 good wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales ; — Well, 
 this was signior liencdick that said so. 
 
 Bene. What's he! 
 
 Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough, 
 
 B'-ue. Not I, believe me. 
 
 Beat. Did he never make you laughl 
 
 Bene. I pray you, what is he? 
 
 Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull 
 fool; only liis gill isin devising impossible slanders: 
 none but libertines delight in him; and the com- 
 mendation is not in his wit, but in his villanv ; for 
 lie botli pleaseth men, and angers them, and then 
 they laugh at him. and beat him: I am sure, he i3 
 in the fleet ; 1 would he had boarded^ me. 
 
 Bine. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell liim 
 what you say. 
 
 'Accosted. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 105 
 
 Beat. Do. do; he!! Init break a comparison or 
 two on me; which, pcra.h'cutur-?, not marked, or 
 not laughed at, srriivcs him into melancholy; and 
 then there s a partrid^^e' wmg saved, for the fool will 
 eat no supper that night. [MusU luilhin.] We 
 must fol ow I lie icaders. 
 
 Beri^. In every good thing. 
 
 Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave 
 them at the next tvirnin^. 
 
 [Djnce. Then exeunt nil but Dan John, 
 HonACHUi, and Claudio. 
 
 D.John Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and 
 halli withdrawn her lather to break with him about 
 it; The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. 
 
 Bora. And tliat is Claudio; I know him by iiis 
 bearing.' 
 
 D. Jukfi. Arc not you signior Benedick T 
 
 Claud. You know me well; I am he. 
 
 D. John. Sifiuior, you are very near my brother 
 in his love; Jie is enamored on Hero; I jiray you 
 dissuade him from her, she js no equal for his birth; 
 J'ou may do the part of an honesi man in it. 
 
 Claud. liow know you he loves her ! 
 
 D. John. I heard him swear his afiTection. 
 
 Bora. So did 1 too ; and he swore he would marry 
 her to msht. 
 
 D. Juh/i. Come. let us to the banquet. 
 
 [Extant Don Sows, and IJoinciiio. 
 
 Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, 
 But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio, — 
 'Tis certain so ; — the prince woos for himsell". 
 Friendsliip is constant in all other things, 
 Save in the odice and atfairs of love: 
 Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; 
 Let every eye negotiate for itself. 
 And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, 
 Against whose charms faith nielteth into blood.* 
 This is an accident of hourly proof. 
 Which 1 mistrusted not: Farewell therefore. Hero ! 
 Re-enter Besedick. 
 
 Bene, Count Ciaudiol 
 
 Claud. Yea, the same. 
 
 Bene. Come, will you go with me? 
 
 Claud. Whither? 
 
 Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own 
 business, count. What lashion will you wear the 
 garland of! About yourneck, likea usurer schain \ 
 or under your arm, like a lieutenants scarf? You 
 must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your 
 Hero. 
 
 Claud, I wish him joy of her. 
 
 Bene. W' hy. tliat's spoken like an honest drover ; 
 so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince 
 would have served you thus. 
 
 Claud. I pray you, leave me. 
 
 Benr. Ho ! now you strike like the blind man; 
 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat 
 the post. 
 
 Claud. If it will not be. Ml leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Bene. Alas, poor hurf fowl! Now will he creep 
 
 into sedges. But, tliat my lady Beatrice should 
 
 know me, and not know me! The princes fool! — 
 Ha, it may be, I go under that title, because I am 
 merry. — Yea ; but so; I am apt to do myself wrong : 
 I am not so reputed: it is tlie base, the bitter dispo- 
 sition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her per- 
 son, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged 
 as I may. 
 
 Re-enter Don Pkdro. 
 
 D. Pedro. Now, signior, whereas the count 'i Did 
 you see him? 
 
 Bene. Troth, my lord. I have played tlie part of 
 lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a 
 lod'.;e in a warren ; I told him, and. I think, I told 
 him true, that your irrace had got the good will of 
 this young lady ; and 1 olVered him ray company to 
 a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as be- 
 ing forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being wor- 
 thy to be whipped. 
 
 D.Pedro. To be whipped! What's his fault? 
 
 Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; 
 who, being overjoyed with finding a birds nest, 
 shows it to his companion, and he steals it. 
 
 D.Pedro. Wiltthou makea trust a transgression? 
 The transgression is in the stealer. 
 
 Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had Ijeen 
 
 made, and the garland too ; for the garland he might 
 
 « Carriage, denieonor. « Passion. 
 
 have worn himself': and the rod he might have be- 
 stowed "n yuu, who, as 1 lake it, have tloin his 
 bird's nest. 
 
 D. Pedro. I will hut teach them to sing, and re- 
 store them to the owner. 
 
 Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by 
 my faitii, you say honestly. 
 
 D. Pedru. The laily Beatrice hath a quarrel to 
 you; the gentleman that danced with her, told her, 
 she is much wronged by you. 
 
 Ben:. O, she mi-^used me past the endurance of a 
 block ; an oak, with but one green leaf on it. would 
 have answered her; my very visor began to ;'ssume 
 life, and scold with her. Siie told me. not thinking I 
 had been myself, that I was the prince's jester; that 
 I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon 
 jcot, with such impossible conveyance, upon me, 
 that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole 
 army shooting at mo: She speaks poniaids, and 
 every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as 
 her terminations, there were no hving near her, 
 she would infect to the north star. I would not 
 marry her, though she were endowed with all that 
 Adam had left him before he transgressed: slie 
 would have made Hercules have turned spi: ; yea, 
 and have cleft his club to make the hre too. — 
 Come, talk not of her: you shall lind her the infer- 
 nal At^' in good apparel. I would to Goti, some 
 scliolar would conjure her; for certainly, while sha 
 is here, a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a 
 sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because 
 they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, hor- 
 ror, and perturbation follow her. 
 
 Re-enter Claudio, Beatiiice, Leoxato, a«(i 
 Hf.ho. 
 
 D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. 
 
 Bene. Will your grace command me anr service 
 to the world's end ? I will go on the sli<rhlest errand 
 now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send 
 me on: I will feteh you atoothpicker now from the 
 farthest inch of Asia: bring you the lentrth of Pres- 
 ter John's foot ; fetch you a hair otT the great Cham's 
 beard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather 
 than hold three words conference with this harpy : 
 Y'ou have no employment for me ! 
 
 D. Pedro. None, but todesire your good company. 
 
 Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish^I love Hot; I 
 cannot endure my lady Tongue. [Exit. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you Iiave lost the 
 heart of signior Benedick. 
 
 Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; 
 and I gave him use^ for it, a double heart for his 
 single one : marry, once before, he won it of me 
 witb false dice, therefore your grace may well say 
 I have lost it. 
 
 D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, 3'ou 
 have put him down. 
 
 Beat. So I would not he should dome, my lord, 
 lest I should prove the mother of fools. 1 have 
 brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. 
 
 D.Pedro. Why, how now, count, wherefore are 
 you sad ? 
 
 Claud. Not sad, rav lord. 
 
 D.Pedro. How then ? Sick? 
 
 Claud. Neitlier, iny lord. 
 
 Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick nor 
 merry, nor well : but civd. count ; civil asan orange, 
 and something of that jealous complexion. 
 
 D. Pedro, rfailh, lady, I think your blazon to be 
 true; though, I'll be svi'orn, if he be so, his conceit 
 is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, 
 and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, 
 and his good will obtiined: name the day of mar- 
 riage, and God give thee joy! 
 
 L^on. Count, take of me my daughter, and with 
 her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, 
 and all grace say Amen to it ! 
 
 Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue.' 
 
 Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of ioy: I 
 were but little happy, if I could say how niuch. — 
 Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away 
 myself for you, and dote ui>on'the exchange. 
 
 'Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his 
 mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak, neither. 
 
 D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 
 
 Beat. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps 
 » The goJJess pf Discord. b Intt^rcst. 
 
 i Turn : a phrase amoug the players. 
 
lOG 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 on tlio windy s^tle oi' t'.ire -• — j\ly cousin tells him 
 in iiis ear, tuat hj i^ in her hean. 
 
 Ctund, Ami so she doth, cousin. 
 
 Beat. Good lord, lor Hlllmice ! — Thus goes every 
 one to tlie worid [jut 1, and I am sun-burned; 1 
 may sit in a corner antl cry hei;^h-ho ! lor a hus- 
 band. 
 
 D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 
 
 Bea/. 1 would rather have one ol' your lathers 
 getting ; Hath your t^race no er a brother like you 1 
 Your lather got excellent husbands, il'a maid could 
 come by lliein. 
 
 D. Ft:lni. Will you have me, lady ? 
 
 Beat. No, my lord, unlesi I might have another 
 for working days; your grace is too costly to wear 
 every day ; — -But, I beseech your grace, pardon me : 
 I was born to speak all mirtli an'i no matter. 
 
 J). Pelrv. Your silence most ollends me, and to 
 be merry best becomes you ; for out of question, 
 you were born in a merry hour. 
 
 Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried ; but 
 then there was a star danced, and under that was 1 
 born. — Cousins, t^od give you joy ! 
 
 Leon. Niece, will you look to tliosc things I told 
 you of! 
 
 Btuf. I cry you mercy, uncle. — By your grace's 
 pardon. ( t".t'i/ Bkatfiick. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my trotb, a pleasant-spirited lady. 
 
 Leun. There's little of the melancholy element 
 in her, my lord : she is never sad, but when she 
 sleeps: and not ever sad then; for I have heard 
 my daughter say. she hath often dreamed of unhap- 
 pmcss, and waked herself with laughing. 
 
 D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a 
 husband. 
 
 Leiiii. 0, by no moans ; she mocks all her wooers 
 out of suit. 
 
 D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Bene- 
 dick. 
 
 Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week 
 married, they would talk themselves mad. 
 
 D. Pedro. Count Claudio, v.dien mean you to go 
 to church 1 
 
 Clit'id. To-morrow, my lord : Time goes on 
 crut.-hes, till love have all his rites. 
 
 Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is 
 hence a just seven-night ; and a time too brief too, 
 to have all things answer my mind. 
 
 D. P^dro. Come, you shake the head at so long 
 a breathing; but. 1 warrant thee, Claudio, the time 
 shall not go dully by us; I will, in the interim, 
 undertake 'one of Heri-ules' labors; which is, to 
 bring signi'ir Renedick and the lady Beatrice into 
 amoinilam of ailf'otion, the one with the other. I 
 woulil fiin have it a match; and I doubt not but 
 to fashion it, if you three will but minister such 
 assistance as 1 shall give you direction. 
 
 Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me 
 ten nights' vvatchings. 
 
 Claud. And I, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedrn. And you too, gentle Hero 7 
 
 Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to 
 help my cousin to a good husb.md. 
 
 ]}■ Pedro. And Benedick is not the uiihopefullest 
 husband that I know : thus far can I praise him ; 
 he is of a noble strain : of approved valor, and con- 
 firmed honesty. I wdl leach you how to humor 
 your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Bene- 
 dick : — and I, wiib your two helps, will so practice 
 on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit, and 
 his queasy' stomach, ho shall fall in love with Bea- 
 trice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an 
 archer; his ^lory shall be ours, for we are the only 
 love-('ods. Coin w.th me, and I will tell you my 
 drift. [Kxeunl. 
 
 SCENE II. — Another Room in Leonato's House. 
 Enter Don .John and BonAciiio. 
 
 D. Jnlin. It is so ; the count Claudio shall rparry 
 the daughter of l.eoiiato. 
 
 Bora. Yea, my lord : but I can cross it. 
 
 D.Jotin. Any bar, any cross, any impediment 
 will be medicinal to me :' 1 am sick in displeasure 
 to him; andwhalsoevcr comes athwart his alVection. 
 ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross 
 this marriau'C t 
 
 Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, 
 tliat no dishoneslv shall a|)pear in me. 
 
 D. Ji^tiJi. Show me briefly how. 
 
 8 Liueiigo. * Fastidious. 
 
 Born. I think, 1 told your lordship, a year since, 
 how iiuicli I am in the lavor of Margaret, the wait- 
 ing-gentiewomaii to Hero. 
 
 i>. Jotin. I remember. 
 
 Bom. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the 
 night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber- 
 window. 
 
 X>. Jdlm. What life is in that to be the death of 
 this marriage? 
 
 Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. 
 Go you to the prince your brother; spare irot to tell 
 him, that he hath wronged his honor in marrying 
 the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you 
 mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a 
 one as Hero. 
 
 L>. Jolin. What proof shall I make of that 1 
 
 Bora. I'roof enough to misuse the prince, to vex 
 Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: Look 
 yon tor any other issue I 
 
 D. John. Only to despite lliem, I will endeavor 
 any thing. 
 
 Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw don 
 Pedro and the count Claudio alone: tell them, that 
 you know that Hero loves me; intendi a kind of 
 zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as — in love 
 of your brother's honor, who hath made this match ; 
 and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to he 
 cozened with the semblance of a maid, — that you 
 have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe 
 this without trial: olfer them instances; which shall 
 bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her cham- 
 ber-window ; bear me call Margaret, Hero; hear 
 Mar:;aret term me Borachio; and bring them to 
 see this, the very night before the intended wed- 
 ding: for, in the meantime, I will so fashion the 
 matter, that Hero shall be absent ; and there shall 
 appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that 
 jealousy shall be cali'd assurance, and all the pre- 
 paration overthrown. 
 
 D. Jotin. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, 
 I will put it in practice: Be cunning in the work- 
 ing this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. 
 
 Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my 
 cunning sha'll not shame me. 
 
 Z). Jolm. I will presently go learn their day of 
 marriage. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — Leonato's Gar*!!. 
 Enter Beneuick and a Boy. 
 
 Bene. Boy, — 
 
 Boi/. Signior. 
 
 Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book: bring 
 it hither to me in the orchard. 
 
 Boi/. I am here already, sir. 
 
 Bene. I know that; — but I would have thee 
 hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] — I do much 
 wonder, that one man, seeing how much another 
 man is a fool when he dedicates his hcliaviors tb 
 love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow lol- 
 lies in others, become the aigumentof hisown .scorn 
 by filling in love : And such a man is Claudio. I 
 have known, when there was no music with him 
 hut the drum and life; and now had he rather hear 
 the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he 
 would have walked ten mile afoot, to see a good ar- 
 mor; and now will he lie ten nights awake carving 
 the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to 
 speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man, 
 and a soldier; and now is he turn d orthographer; 
 bis words are a very fantastical banquet, ,iust so 
 many strange dishes. May I be so converted, and 
 see with these eyes 1 I cannot tell; I think not : 1 
 will not he sworn, but love may transform me to an 
 oyster; but I'll lake my oath on it, till he haxe 
 made an oyster of me, he shall never make me snch 
 a fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well; another 
 is wise; yet I am well : another virtuous; yet 1 am 
 well : but till all graces he in one woman, one wo- 
 man shall not come in my grace. Bich she shall 
 be, thafs certain; wise, or III none; virtuous, or 
 I'll never cheapen her ; fair, or 111 never look on 
 her; mild, or come not near ; noble, or not 1 tor an 
 angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, 
 and her hair shall be of what color it please God. 
 Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I w'l b'™ 
 me in the arbor. [n itfidrawn. 
 
 Enter Don PriiHO, LEOs.iTO, and Ci..\uino. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music 1 
 I Pretend. 
 
SCEXE TIL 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 107 
 
 Claud. Yea, mv good lord : — How still the even- 
 ing is, 
 Ashu'^hMon purpose to erace harmony! 
 
 D. Pedro. See you where Benedick liath hid him- 
 self ! 
 
 Claul. O, very well, my lord : the music ended, 
 Well tit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. 
 Eiiier B vlthazau wiih music- 
 
 D. Pedro. Come Balthazar, we'll hear that song 
 as^ain. 
 
 Bril/h. O pood my lord, ta\ not so bad a voice 
 To slander music any more than once. 
 
 D. Pedrn. It is the'witness still of excellency, 
 To put a stranjce face on his own perfection : 
 I pray thee. 5111?. and let me woo no more. 
 
 Balih. Because you talk ofwooimr. I will sing: 
 Since many a wooer doth commence his suit 
 To her he thinks not worthy ; yet he woos ; 
 Vet will he swear, he loves. 
 
 J). Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come : 
 
 Or, if thou wilt hold loiter ar^iimcnt. 
 Do it in notes. 
 
 Balfh. Note this before my notes, 
 
 There's not a note (tf mine that's worth the noting. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why those are very crotcliets that he 
 speaks ; 
 Note, notes, forsooth, and notins I [Music- 
 
 Bene. Now. Divine air .' now is his soul ravishd ! 
 — Is it not stransc, that sheep's suts should hale 
 souls out of men's bodies ! — Well, a horn for my 
 money, when all's done. 
 
 B\T.Ti[AZAii sings, 
 
 I. 
 
 Balth. Siicb no more, ladieft, sigh no more, 
 Mm irrrr deceivers tvfr ; 
 Onr fold iti sea, and one an shore ; 
 To one th>n^ constant never : 
 Tfien sigh not so, 
 But let them gOy 
 And he ynu blithe and hnnjiy : 
 Convertin\ all your sounds of woe 
 Into, Hey nonny., nonny, 
 
 ir. 
 
 Si7ig no more ditties, sing no mo^ 
 Of dumps sndull and heavy ; 
 
 The fraud nf men was ever so. 
 Since, summer first ivas leavy : 
 ' Then sigh not so, &c. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. 
 
 Balfh. And an ill singer, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. Ha'? no; no, faith; thou singcst well 
 enough for a shift. 
 
 Bene. [Aside.'l An he had been a dog, that 
 should have howled thus, they would have hanged 
 him ; and. I pray God. his bad voice bode no mis- 
 chief! I had as lief iiave heard the night-raven, come 
 wlmt plague could have come after it. 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, marry; [To Claxtdto.] — Dost 
 thou hear, Balthazar? I pray thee get up some ex- 
 cellent music: for to-morrow night we would have 
 it at the lady Hero's chamber-window. 
 
 Balfh. The best I can, my lord. 
 
 D.Pedro. Do no, fi\rewc\].[ Exeunt BKX.ru K7.\n 
 and music.] Come hither, Leoiiato: What was it 
 you told nio of to-day? that your neice Beatrice 
 was in love with signior Benedick? 
 
 Claud. O, ay; — Stalk on. stalk on; the fowl 
 sits. [Aside to PKnito.] I did never think that lady 
 would have loved any man. 
 
 Leon. No, nor 1 nether; hut most wonderful, 
 that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom 
 she hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to 
 abhor. 
 
 Bene. 1st possible? Sils the wind in that corner? 
 
 \Asi'le. 
 
 Leon. By my troth, my lord,! cannot tell what 
 to think of it; but that she loves him with an en- 
 raged afTection. — it is past the infinite of thought. 
 
 D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. 
 
 Claud. 'Faith, like enough. 
 
 Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was 
 counterfeit of passion came so near the life of pas- 
 sion, as she discovers it, 
 
 D- Pedro. Why, what elTects of passion shows 
 Bhe? 
 
 1 More. 
 
 Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Leon. Wh;it efiVcts, my lord ! She will sit you — 
 You heard my dnughler tell you how. 
 
 Claud. She ditl. indeed. 
 
 D. Pedro. How, iiow, I pray you? You amaze 
 me: I would have thought )icr spirit bad been in- 
 vincible against all assaults of aflcction. 
 
 Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; es- 
 pecially against Benedick. 
 
 Bene. [Aside.] I shoidd think this a gull, but 
 tiiat tiie while-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery 
 cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence. 
 
 Claud. He hath la 'en the infection; hold it up. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 D. Pedro. Hath she made her aflection known 
 to Benedick ? 
 
 Leon. No ; and swears she never will ; that's her 
 torment 
 
 CUiud. -Tis true, indeed ; so your daughter says : 
 Shall I, says she, that huvc so iff encr!unfer''d tiini 
 with scorn, icrite to hint that I love him ? 
 
 Leon. This says she now when she is beginning 
 to write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a 
 night; and there will she sit in her 'smock, till she 
 have writ a sheet of paper: — my daughter tells us 
 all. 
 
 Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, remem- 
 ber a pretty jest your dauirhter told us of. 
 
 Leon. ! — When she had writ it, and was read- 
 ing it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice be- 
 tween the .sheet! 
 
 Claud. That. 
 
 Leon. 0! sJie tore the letter into a thousand 
 half-pence; railed at hersclt', that she should lie so 
 immodest to write to one that she knew would tlout 
 her: I measure Aim. says she, fr:/ my own spirit,- 
 for I should jlout him ^ if he ivrit to me; ijeoy 
 though I lore him, I should. 
 
 Claud. Then down upon her kTiees she falls, 
 weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, 
 curses: — sireet Bene lick ! God g-ive me pa- 
 tience / 
 
 Leon, f^he doth, indeed; my daughter says so: 
 and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that 
 my daughter is som<'timc nfraid she will do a des- 
 perate outrage to herself: U is very true. 
 
 D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it 
 by some other, if she v.-ill not discover it. 
 
 Claud. To what end? He would but make a 
 sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse. 
 
 D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to ban? 
 him : She's an excellent sweet lady ; and, out of 
 all suspicion, she is virtuous. 
 
 Claud. And she is exceeding wise. 
 
 D. Pedro. In every thimr. but in loving Benedick. 
 
 Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating 
 in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that 
 blood hath the victory. 1 am sorry for her. as I 
 have just cause, beiui: her uncle and her guardian. 
 
 D.Pedro. I wonld'shn had bestowed this dotage 
 on me; I would have datrdiall other respects, and 
 made her half myself: 1 prny you, tell Benedick of 
 it, and hear what lie will say. 
 
 Le<m. Were it good, think you ? 
 
 Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for she 
 says, she will die if he love her not; and she will 
 die ere she inaKe her love known ; and she will die 
 if he woo her. rather than she will bate one breath 
 of her Jftrustomed crossness. 
 
 D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make ten- 
 der of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for 
 the man, as you know all, hath a contemptuous 
 spirit. 
 
 Claud. He is a very proper man. 
 
 D.Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. 
 
 D. Pedro. He doth indeed .show some sparks 
 that are like wit. 
 
 Leon. And 1 take him to be valiant. 
 
 D.Pedro. As Hector, 1 assure you: and, in the 
 managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for 
 either he avoids them with great discretion, or un- 
 dertakes them with a m.ost Christian-like fear. 
 
 X.fon. If he do fear fiod, he must necessarily 
 keep peace ; if he break the pence, he ought to en- 
 ter into a quarrel witli fear and trembling, 
 a Thrown off. 
 
108 
 
 MUCH ADO A"BOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 D- Peirn. And so will he do; for the man doth ! 
 fear (iod, howsoever it seems not in him, hy some I 
 lar?e jests he will make. Well. 1 am sorry for ' 
 your niece: Shall we go see lienedick, and tell j 
 him of her love ? I 
 
 Clau'L Never tell him. my lord; lot her wear it 
 out with good counsel. [ 
 
 Leon. Nay, that's impossible ; she may wear her . 
 heart nut first. | 
 
 D. Pedro. W^ell, we'll hear further of it by j'our ; 
 daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick ; 
 well; and I could wish iie would modestly examine 
 him?elf, to see how much he is unworthy so good 
 a lady. 
 
 Leon. My lord, will you walk'? dinner is ready. | 
 
 Claud. If he do not dote on her npon this, I will ■ 
 never trust my expectation. [Aside. 
 
 D. Ped?'0. Let there be the same net spread for 
 her; and that must your dauffliter and her gentle- 
 woman carry. The sport will be, when they hold 
 one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such 
 matter; that's the scene that I would see, which 
 will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to 
 call him m to dinner. [Ande. 
 
 [Exeunt Don Pedpo, Claudio, and Leonato. 
 
 Bo'EmcK advances from the Arbor. 
 
 Bene. This can be no trick : The conference was 
 sadly borne.* — They have the truth of this from 
 Hero. They seem to pity tlie lady; it seems, her 
 affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it 
 must he requited. I hear how I am censured : they 
 say, I will heiir myself proudly, if I perceive the 
 love come from her; they say too, that she will ra- 
 ther die than give any sign of affection. — I did 
 never think to marry; — I must not seem proud: — 
 Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can 
 
 put them to mending. They say. the lady is fair; 
 'tis a truth 1 can bear them witness : and virtuous; 
 - — 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise but for lov- 
 ing me : — Hy my troth, it is no addition to her wit; 
 — nor no great ar^^ument of her folly, for I will be 
 horribly in love with her. — I may chance have 
 some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on nie, 
 because I have railed so long against marriage; — ■ 
 But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the 
 meat in his youth, tliat he cannot endure in his age; 
 Shall quiijs, and sentences, and these paper bullets 
 of the brain, awe a man from the career of his hu- 
 mor] No: The world must be peopled. When I 
 said, T would die a bachelor. I did not think I 
 should live till I were married. — Here comes Bea- 
 trice : By this day, shes a fair lady : 1 do spy some 
 marks of love in fier. 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Bent, Against my will, I am sent to bid you 
 come in to dinner. 
 
 Bene. Fair Beatrice. T thank you for your pains. 
 
 Heat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than 
 you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, 
 1 would not have come. 
 
 Bene. You take pleasure in the message 1 
 
 Beat. Yea. just so much as you may take upon 
 a knife's point, and choke a daw withal: — You 
 have no stomach, si^nior; fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Bene, Ha! Against rnif iri'j, I am sent to bid 
 you come to dinner. — there s a double meaning 
 in tl)at, / took no more pains for those thanks^ 
 than you took pains to tfionk me — that'^as much 
 as to say. Any pains that I take for you is as easy, 
 as thanks: — If I do not take pity other,! am a 
 villain; If I do not love her, I am a Jevi^: I will go 
 get her picture. [Exit- 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — Leonato's Garden. 
 Enter Hr.no, Mabgarkt, and Uhsula. 
 
 Hero. Good Mar^nret, run thoe into llie parlor: 
 There shall thou find my cousin Beatrice 
 Proposinii* with the prince and Claudio: 
 Whisper Iier ear. and tell her, I and Ursula 
 Walk in the oreliard. and our whole discourse 
 Is all other; say, that thou o\erheard"st us; 
 And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
 Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, 
 Forbid the sun to enter; — like favorites, 
 I\Tade proud by princes, that advance their pride 
 Against that power that bred it: — there will she 
 
 liide licr. 
 To listen our puvpose: This is thy office. 
 Bear thee well iii it, and leave us alone. 
 
 yiarg. I'll make her come, I warrant you. pre- 
 sently. [Exit. 
 
 Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 
 As we do trace this alley up and down, ^^ 
 Our talk must only he of Benedick: 
 When I do name him, let it be thy part 
 To praise him more than ever man did merit: 
 My talk to thee must be. how Benedick 
 Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter 
 Is httle Cupid's crafty arrow made. 
 That only wounds l:y hearsay. Now begin; 
 
 Enter Bkatrict: befiind. 
 For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
 Close hy the ;irouiid. to hear our conference. 
 
 Urs. "The plea^ent'st aTiiiling is to see the fish 
 Cut witli her golden oars the silver stream. 
 And greedily devour the treacherous bait: 
 So angle we" for Beatrice: wlio even now 
 Is couched in tlie woodbine coverture: 
 Fear you not my part of tlie dialogu?. 
 Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose 
 nothing 
 . Seriou.sly carried on. t Discoursing. 
 
 Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. — 
 
 [Theij advance to ttit bower. 
 No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainlul : 
 I know, her spirits are as coy and wild 
 As haggards of the rock.« 
 
 Urs. -But are you sure, 
 
 That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ! 
 
 Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed 
 lord. 
 
 Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam 1 
 
 Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it: 
 But 1 persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, 
 To wish him wrestle with afiection. 
 And never to let Beatrice know of it. 
 
 t'rs. Why did you so 1 JJoth not llie gentleman 
 Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, 
 As ever Beatrice sliall couch upon? 
 
 Hero. God of love! I know, he doth deserve 
 As much as may be yielded to a rnan : 
 But nature never fram'd a woman's heart 
 Of prouder stull than that of Beatrice : 
 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
 Misprising what they look on ; and her wit 
 Values its'elf so highly, that to her 
 All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
 Nor take no shape nor project of affection. 
 She is so self-endeared. 
 
 Urs. Sure. I think so ; 
 
 .\nd therefore, certainly, it were not good 
 She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 
 
 //'TO. Why. you speak truth: I never yet saw man, 
 How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, 
 But she would spell him backward : if fair-fliced. 
 She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; 
 If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick. 
 Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
 If low. an agate very vilely cut: 
 If speakins, why, a vane blown with all wind ; 
 if silent, why, a block moved with none. 
 So turns she' every man the wrong side out; 
 « A specits of hawkB. 
 
SCEXE II. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 109 
 
 And never gives to truth and virtue, that, 
 Wliich simpleiiess and merit purehascth. 
 
 Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. 
 
 Hero- No : not to be so odd ami from all fashions, 
 As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable : 
 But who dare tell her so 1 If I siiould .speak, 
 She'd mock me into air ; 0, she would laugh me 
 Out of myself, press mc to death with wit. 
 Therefore let Benedick, like cover d fire, 
 Consume away in si^hs, waste inwardly: 
 It were a better death than die with mocks ; 
 Which is as bad as die with ticklins. 
 
 U'S. Yet tell lii'r of it; hear wliat she will say. 
 
 Hero. No; rather I will t;o to liencdick 
 And counsel him to fight against his passion: 
 And, truly. Til devise some honest slanders 
 To stain my cousin with : One doth not know, 
 How much an ill word may empoison liking. 
 
 b'rs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. 
 She cannot be so much witliout true judgment, 
 (Having so swift and excellent a wit. 
 As she is prized to have,) as to refuse 
 So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. 
 
 Hero. He is the only nian of Italy, 
 Always excepted my dear Claudio. 
 
 Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam. 
 Speaking my fancy; signior Benedick, 
 For shape, for bearing, argument, and valor. 
 Goes foremost in report through Italy. 
 
 Hero. Indeed he liath an excellent good name. 
 
 Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere lie had it. — 
 When are you married, madam 1 
 
 Hero. Why, every day; — to-morrow: Come: 
 -go in; 
 I'll snow thee some attires ; and have thy counsel. 
 Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. 
 
 Urn. She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught 
 her, madam. [Astle. 
 
 Hero. If it prove so. then loving goes by haps: 
 Some Cupid kills witli arrows, some with traps. 
 
 [Kxtuut Hero, rt/if/ Uhscla, 
 
 Beathice advances. 
 
 Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? 
 
 Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much ? 
 Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 
 
 No glory lives behind the back of such. 
 And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee; 
 
 Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; 
 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
 
 To bind our loves up in a holy band: 
 For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 
 Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Room in Leonato's House. 
 
 Enter Don Pbdro, Claudio, Bkneiiick, a;i(J 
 
 Leoxato. 
 
 D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be con- 
 summate, and then I go toward .\rragon. 
 
 Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll 
 vouchsafe me. 
 
 X). Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in 
 the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child 
 his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only 
 be bold with Benedick for his company; for, froiii 
 the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is 
 all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow- 
 string, and the little hangman dare not slioot at 
 him: he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his 
 tongue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his 
 tongue speaks. 
 
 Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 
 
 Leon. So say I ; methinks you are sadder. 
 
 Clttud. I hope, he be in love. 
 
 D. Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true 
 drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love; 
 if he be sad, he wants money. 
 
 Bene. I have the togth-ache. 
 
 D. Pedro. Draw it. 
 
 Bene. Hang it. 
 
 Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it after- 
 wards. 
 
 D. Pedro. What! sigh for the tooth-ache] 
 
 Leon. Where is but a humor, or a worm ! 
 
 Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he 
 that has it. 
 
 Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. 
 
 D. Pedro. There is uo appearance of fancy in 
 
 him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange 
 disguises: as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a French- 
 man to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries 
 at once, as a German fioin the waist downward, all 
 slop;' and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no 
 doublet : unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as 
 it appears he hath, he is no fool for tancy, as "you 
 would have it appear he is. 
 
 Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, 
 there is no Ijelieving old signs; he brushes his hat 
 o'mornings; What should that bode ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's? 
 
 Cloud. No. but the barber's man hath been seen 
 with him: and the old ornament of his cheek hath 
 already stutTed tennis-balls. 
 
 L''on. Indeed, he looks younger than he did by 
 the loss of a heard. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay he rubs himself with civet: Can 
 you smell him out by that ? 
 
 Claul. That's as much as to say. The sweet 
 youth's in love. 
 
 D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melan- 
 choly. 
 
 Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself! for the 
 which, I hear what they say of him. 
 
 Cloud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now 
 crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops. 
 
 D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: 
 Conclude, conclude, he is in love. 
 
 Claud. .N'ay. but I know who loves him. 
 
 D.Pedro. That would I know, too; I warrant, 
 one that knows him not. 
 
 Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite 
 of all, dies for him. 
 
 D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face up- 
 ward. 
 
 Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache. — 
 Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied 
 eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which 
 these hobby-horses must not hear. 
 
 [E.veunf Bknkdick and Leonato. 
 
 D. Pedro. For my lite, to break with him about 
 Beatrice. 
 
 Claud. 'Tis even so : Hero and Margaret liave 
 by this played their parts with Beatrice: and then 
 the two Dears will nut bite one another, when they 
 meet. 
 
 Enter Don Jony. 
 
 D. John. My lord and brother, God save you. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good den, brother. 
 
 D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak 
 with you. 
 
 D. Pedro. In private? 
 
 B.John. If it please you; — yet count Claudio 
 may hear; for what 1 would speak of, concerns him. 
 
 1). Pedro. What's the matter? 
 
 D. John. Means your lordship to be married to- 
 morrow ; LTo Claudio. 
 
 D. Pedro. You know, he does. 
 
 D. John. I know not that, when ho kTiows what 
 I know. 
 
 Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, 
 discover it. 
 
 D. John. You may think I love you not ; let that 
 appear hereat'tcr, and aim better at me by that I 
 now will manifest: For my brother, I tliink he 
 liolds you well ; and in dcarncss of heart hath holp 
 to efiect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill 
 spent, nnil labor ill-b'estowed ! 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 D. John. I came hither to tell you ; and, circum- 
 stances shortened, (forslie hath been too long a talk- 
 ing of,) the lady is disloyal. 
 
 Claud. Who"? Hero! 
 
 D.Jotin. Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, 
 every man's Hero. 
 
 Claud. Dis'oynl ? 
 
 D. John. The word is too good to paint out her 
 wickedness; 1 could siy, she were worse; think you 
 of a worse title, and I will fit her to it, Wondernot 
 till further warrant: go but vfith me to-night, you 
 shall see her chamber-window entered; even the 
 night before lier wedding-day : if you love her then, 
 to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your 
 honor to change your mind. 
 
 Claud. May this be so ? 
 
 ' Largo loose breeches. 
 
110 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Z>. Pedro. I will not think it. 
 
 D. John. If you tkire not. tiurit that you see, con- 
 fess not that you know : if you will follow me, I 
 will show you ent)U;^h ; and when you have seen 
 more and heard more, proceed accordinj^Iy. 
 
 Claud. If I see anything to-ni^ht why I should 
 not marry her to-nionow ; in the congregation, 
 where I should wed, there will I shame her. 
 
 D. Pedro. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, 
 I will join with thee to disi;race her. 
 
 D. Jukn. I will disparage lier no farther, till you 
 are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnio'iit, 
 and let the issue show itself. 
 
 D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned! 
 
 Claud. O mischief stran^'clj' thwarting! 
 
 D. John. O plague right well prevented! 
 So will you say when you have seen the sequel. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Street. 
 
 Enter DoGUF.nuv and Vehges, luith, /Ae JVatch. 
 
 Do^h. Are you good men and true ? 
 
 Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should 
 suffer salvation, body and soul. 
 
 Do^h. Nay, that were a punishment too good for 
 them, if they should have any allegiance in them, 
 being chosen for the prince's watch. 
 
 Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbor 
 Dogberry. 
 
 Dogb. First, who think you the most disheartless 
 man to be constable I 
 
 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; 
 for they can write and read. 
 
 Dogb. Come hither, neighbor Seacoal. God hath 
 blessed you with a good name : to be a well-favored 
 man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read 
 comes by nature. 
 
 2 JValck. Botii which, master constable, 
 
 Dogb. You have ; I knew it would be your an- 
 swer. Well, for your favor, sir, why, give God 
 thanks, and make no boast of it ; and for your writ- 
 ing and reading, let that appear wlien there is no 
 need of such vanity. You are thought here to be 
 the most senseless and fit mau for the constable of 
 the watch; therefore bear you the lantern: This is 
 your charge; You shall comiirehend ail vagrom 
 men ; you are to bid any man stand in the prince's 
 name. 
 
 2 Watch. How, if he will not stand 1 
 
 Dogb. Why Ihen, take no note of him, but let 
 him go; and presently call the rest of the watch 
 together, and thank tjod you are rid of a knave. 
 
 Verg. If he will not stan'd when he is bidden, he 
 is none of the prince's subjects. 
 
 Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none 
 but the prince's subjects: — You shall also make no 
 noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and 
 talk is most tolerable, and not to be endured. 
 
 2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we 
 know what belongs to a watch. 
 
 Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most 
 quiet Watchmaii ; for- I cannot sec how sleeping 
 sliould olleiid : only have a caretliat your bills' bo 
 not stolen ; — Well, you are to call at all the ale- 
 houses, and bid tliose that are drunk get tliem to 
 bed. 
 
 2 Watch. How, if they will not. 
 
 Dogb- Why then, let them alone till they are 
 sober; if they make you not then the better answer, 
 you may say, they are not the men you took tliem 
 lor. 
 
 2 Watch Well, sir. 
 
 Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, 
 by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and for 
 such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with 
 them, why, the more is for your honesty. 
 
 2 Walch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we 
 not lay hands on him? 
 
 Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, I 
 think, they tliat touch pitch will he defiled: the 
 niost peacciddeway ftir\ou, if you do take a thief, 
 is, to let him shov,- lums'elf what he is, and steal out 
 of your company. 
 
 Verg. You have been always called a merciful 
 man, partner. 
 
 Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will ; 
 much more a man who hatii :iny honejjty in him. 
 s Wuapous of the wutcbmon. 
 
 Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you 
 must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 
 
 2 Watch. How, if the nurse he asleep, and will 
 not hear us ! 
 
 Diigb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the 
 child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will 
 not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer 
 a calf when he bleats. 
 
 Verg. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con- 
 stable, are to present the prince's own person : if 
 you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 
 
 Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that,"! think, he cannot. 
 
 Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man 
 that knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, 
 not without the prince be willing : for, indeed, the 
 watch ought to offend no man ; and it is an oiience 
 to stay a man against his will. 
 
 Verg. By'r lady, I think it be so. 
 
 Dogb. Ha, ha. "ha! Well, masters, good night: 
 an there be any matter of weight chances, call up 
 me : keep your tijUows' counsel ami your own, and 
 good night. — Come, neighbor. 
 
 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let 
 us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and 
 then all to-bed. 
 
 Dogb. One word more, honest neighbors : I pray 
 you, watch about signior Leonato's door; for the 
 wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coil 
 to-night: Adieu, be vigilant, 1 beseech you. 
 
 [Exettnl DocjBtniiY and Verges. 
 
 Enter BonAciiio and Conraue. 
 
 Bora. What! Conrade,— 
 
 Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside. 
 
 Bora. Conrade, 1 say ! 
 
 Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. 
 
 Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched ; I thought 
 there would be a scab lollow. 
 
 Con. I will owe thee an answer for that ; and 
 now forward with thy tale. 
 
 £(»'«.■ Stand thee close then under this pent- 
 house, for it drizzles rain ; and 1 will, like a true 
 drunkard, utter all to thee. 
 
 Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, masters; yet stand 
 close. 
 
 Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of don John 
 a thousand ducats- 
 
 Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so 
 dear '! 
 
 Bora. TJiou sliouldst rather ask, if it were possi- 
 ble any villany should be so rich ; for when rich 
 villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may 
 make what price they will. 
 
 Con. I wonder at'it. 
 
 Bora. Tliat shows thou art unconfirmed :' Thou 
 knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or 
 a cloak, is nothing to a man. 
 
 Con. Y'es, it is apparel. 
 
 Bora. I mean the fashion. 
 
 Con. Y'es the fashion is the fashion. 
 
 Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool's the 
 fool. But see'st thou not what a deformed thief 
 this fashion is? 
 
 Walch. I know that Deformed; he has been a 
 vile thief this seven year : he goes up and down like 
 a gentleman : I remember his name. 
 
 Bora. Didst thou not bear somebody '! 
 
 CH(i. No; 'twas the vane on the house. 
 
 Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed 
 thief this ftshion is ! how giddily he turns aliout all 
 the hot bloods between fourteen and fivc-aiid-thir- 
 ty 1 sometime, fashioning tliem, like Pharaoh's sol- 
 diers in the reechyi painting; sometime, like god 
 Bel's priests in the old church window; sometime, 
 like the shaven Hercules in the smirched' worm- 
 eaten tapestry, where Ids cod-piece seems as massy 
 as bis club! 
 
 Con. ,\11 this I see; and see that the fashion 
 wears out more apparel than the man : But art not 
 thou thyself gidcfy with the fashion too, that thou 
 bast slii'ftcd out of thy tale into telling me of the 
 l-jshionl 
 
 Bora. Not so neither: but know, that I li.ave to- 
 night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentle-wo- 
 man, by the name" of Hero; she leans me out at her 
 mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand 
 » Unprnctified in the ways of the TvorM. 
 » Smoked. * Soiled. 
 
Scene IV". 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Ill 
 
 times f.'Oort night.— ^ I tell this tale vilely : — I should 
 first teil Uiee, now the prince, Claudio, and my mas- 
 ter, planted, and placed, and possessed l>y my mas- 
 ter don John, saw alar oU'in the orchard this' amia- 
 ble encounter. 
 
 Con. And thonglit they, Margaret was Hero. 
 
 Bora, Two uf lliein did, the prince and Claudio; 
 but the devil my master knew she was .Margaret; 
 and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, 
 partly by the dark niiiht, which did deceive them, 
 but chietly by my vdlany, which did confirm any 
 slander that don John had made, away went Clau- 
 dio enrag-ed ; swore he would meet her, as he was 
 appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, 
 belore the whole congrc,.;ation.s!iame her with what 
 he saw over-night, and send her liome again with- 
 out a husband. 
 
 1 JVufck. We charge you in the prince's name, 
 stand. 
 
 2 Walch. Call up the right ma.ster constable: 
 W'e have here recovered the most dangerous piece 
 of lechery that ever was known in the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 1 Watch. And nne Deformed is one of them ; I 
 know him, he wears a lock. 
 
 Con. Masters, masters, — 
 
 1 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, 
 I warrant you. 
 
 Con. Masters, — 
 
 1 Watch. Never speak ; we charge you, let us 
 obey you to go with us. 
 
 Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, 
 being taken up of these men's bills. 
 
 Con. A commodity in question, I warr.nnt you. 
 Come, we'll obey you. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE I^V.— .4 Room in LeonaWs Ilousr.. 
 
 Enter Hero, M.^noATiET, and Uiisula. 
 
 Hero. Good Ursula, wake ray cousin Beatrice, 
 and desire her to rise. 
 
 Ur.i. I will, lady. 
 
 Hero. And bid lier come hither. 
 
 Ur.s. Well. [Exit. Vnsi!i.i. 
 
 Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato' were 
 better. 
 
 Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. 
 
 Alarg. By my troth, it's not so good; and I war- 
 rant your cousin will say so. 
 
 Hero. My cousin's a tool, and thou art another ; 
 I'll wear none but this. 
 
 Wary-. I like tlie new attire within excellenlly, if 
 the hair were a thought browner : and your gown's 
 a most rare fashion, i faith. I saw the duchess of 
 Milan's gown, that they praise so. 
 
 Hero. O that exceeds, they say. 
 
 Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in re- 
 spect of yours: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced 
 with silver ; set with pearls, down sleeves, side- 
 sleeves, and skirls round, underborne with a bluish 
 tinsel: but for a line, quaint, graceful, and excellent 
 fashion, yours is worth ten ont- 
 
 H:ro. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart 
 is exceeding heavy! 
 
 Marg. 'Twin be heavier soon, by the weight of 
 a man. 
 
 Hero. Fie upon thee ! art not ashamed ? 
 
 Marg. Of what, lady'! of speaking honorably ? Is 
 not marriage honorable in a beggar] Is not your 
 lord honorable without marriage! I think you 
 would have me say, saving your reverence, — « hus- 
 band: an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, 
 I'll oll'end nobody: Is there any harm in— /Ae heav- 
 ier for a hnshand'^ None, I think, an if it be the 
 riiht husband, and the right wife ; otherwise, 'tis 
 iiglit, and not heavy : Ask my lady Beatrice else, 
 here she comes. 
 
 Enter BE.trnicE. 
 
 Hero. Good morrow, coz. 
 
 Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 
 
 Hero. Why, how now ! do you speak in the sick 
 tune! 
 
 Beat. I am out of all other tune, mcthinks. 
 
 Marg. Clap us into — Light o' tore; that goes 
 without a burden ; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. 
 
 Beat. Yea, Liiilit o' toi'C, with your heels ! — 
 then if your hu.^band have stables enough, you'll 
 see lie shall lack no barns. 
 
 > A kind of rulf. 
 
 Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that 
 with my heels. 
 
 Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time 
 you were ready. By my troth, 1 am exceeding lU: 
 — hey ho ! 
 
 Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband 1 
 
 Beat. For the letter that begins the;n all, H.' 
 
 Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turl;, there's 
 no more sailing by the star. 
 
 Beat. What means the fool, trow '! 
 
 Marg. Nothing I ; but God send every one their 
 heart's desire ! 
 
 Hero. These ginves the count sent me, they are 
 an excellent perfume. 
 
 Beat. I am stutled, cousin, I cannot smell. 
 
 Marg. A maid, and slull'ed ! there's goodly catch- 
 ing of cold. 
 
 Beat. 0, God help me! God help me! how long 
 have you profess'd apprehension ! 
 
 Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit 
 become me rarely 1 * 
 
 Beat. It is not seen enough, you sliould wear it 
 in your cap. — By my troth, I am sick. 
 
 Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus 
 Benedictus, and lay it to your heart; it is the only 
 thing for a qualm. 
 
 Hero. There thou prick'st her with a tiiistle. 
 
 Beat. Benedictus I why Benedictus ! you have 
 some moral in this Benedictus. 
 
 Marg. INIoral ! no, by my troth, I liave no moral 
 meaning; I meant, plain holy thistle. You may 
 think, perchance, that I think 30U are in love: nay, 
 by'r lady, I am not such a fjo! to think what I list, 
 nor I list not to think what I can ; nor. indeed, I 
 cannot think, if I would think my heart out of 
 thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be 
 in love, or that you can be in love; yet Benedick 
 was such another, and now is lie become a man : he 
 swore he would never marry ; and yet now, in de- 
 spite of his heart, he eal.s Ins meat witiiout grudg- 
 ing: and how you may be converted, I know not ; 
 but, mcthinks, you look with your eyes as otlier 
 women do. 
 
 Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps'? 
 
 Marg. Not a false gallop. 
 
 Re-enter Unsrr.A. 
 
 [)<•.<■. Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the count, 
 signior Benedick, don .lolin, and all the gallants of 
 the town are come to fetch you to churcli. 
 
 Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, 
 good Ursula. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Another Room in Lmnato's House. 
 
 Enter Leo>-ato, with DoeiiEnnx and Verges. 
 
 Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh- 
 bor. 
 
 Drigh. Marry, sir. I would ha\e some confidence 
 with you, that decerns you nearly. 
 
 Leon. Brief, I pr;iy you, for, you see, 'tis a busy 
 time with me. 
 
 Dogh. Marry, this it is, sir. 
 
 Verg. Yes, in truth, it is, sir. 
 
 Leon. \Vhat is it. my good friends ! 
 
 Dngh. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little ofT 
 the matter; an old man, sir. and his wits are not so 
 blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but, 
 in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows. 
 
 Verg. Y'es. I thank God, I am as honest an any 
 man living, that is an old man, and no Jionester 
 than I. 
 
 DogI}. Comparisons are odorous : jialabras, neigh- 
 bor Verges. 
 
 7j"0)7. Neighbors, you are tedious. 
 
 Dnxh. It plea.-ics your worship to say so. but we 
 are the poor dukesol'Kcers; but truly, for mine own 
 part if 1 were as tedious as a kinu, I could lind in 
 mv heart to bestow it all of your worship. 
 
 Lron. All thy tediousncss on me ! ha f 
 
 Dogh. Yea. an 'twere a thousand times more 
 than 'tis: for I hear as good exclamation on your 
 worship, as of any man in the city ; and though I 
 be hut a poor man. I am glad to hear it. , 
 
 Verg. And so am 1. 
 ,Leoh. I would fain know what you have to say. 
 
 Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting 
 your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of aa 
 arrant kna*es as any in Messina. 
 
 * »'. e. for an adu or pain. 
 
112 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Dog'). A gooj o'ci man. sir ; lie will he talking; 
 as they say. when tho a-;e \s in, the wit is out: 
 God help us! it is a world to see!' — Well said, 
 i'faith. nei^libor Vertjos: — well, God's a good man ; 
 an two men ride of a horse, one inust rifle behind: 
 — An honest soul, i'laith, sir; by my troth he is, as 
 ever broke bread : but, (iod is to he worshipped: 
 all men are not alike; alas, good nei:j:hhor! 
 
 Leon. Indeec'.neighbor, he comestoo short of you. 
 
 D:>^b. Gilts, that God gives. 
 
 Leon. I must leave you. 
 
 J}ui£b. One word, sir; our watch, sir. have, in- 
 deed, comprehended twoaspicious persons.and we 
 would have tlieia this morning examined before 
 your worship. 
 
 Leon. Take their exam-nation yourself, and bring 
 it me; I am now in great haste," as it may appear 
 unto you. 
 
 Do^b. It slial! he sulliganre. 
 
 Leon. Drink some wine ere you go ; lare you well. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mesf^. My lord, they stay for you to give your 
 daughter to Ikt husband. 
 
 Leon. I will wait upon them ; I am ready, 
 
 [Exeuuf Lr.os \ro and Mepsenger. 
 
 T)ogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis 
 Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and ink horn to the 
 gaol ; we are now to examination these men. 
 
 Verg. And we must do it wisely, 
 
 Do^h. We will snare for no wii, I warrant you; 
 here's (hat [Touchwf^ /its foreftca'f.] shall drive 
 some of them to a non com : only ;j('t the learned 
 writer to set down our excommunication, and meet 
 me at the gaol. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE i.— Tke Inside of a Church. 
 Enter Don Pep no, Dim Johx, Lkovato, Friar, 
 
 ClaUDIO, liENKDICK. Hku», BeaTKICE, <Scf. 
 
 Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to the 
 plain form of maiTiage, and you shall recount their 
 particular duties afterwards. 
 
 Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this 
 lady ! 
 
 Clauil. No. 
 
 Lion. To be married to her, friar ; you come to 
 marry her. 
 
 Fricir. Lady, you come hither to be married to 
 this count. 
 
 He.o. I do. 
 
 Friur. If Cither of you know any inward imped- 
 iment why you should not be conjoined, I charge 
 you, on your souls, to utter it. 
 
 Claud- Know you any. Hero 1 
 
 Hero. None, my lord. 
 
 Friar. Know you any, counti 
 
 Leon. \ dare make his answer, none. 
 
 Claud, u, what men dare do! what men may do! 
 what men daily do ! not knowing what they do ! 
 
 ]3ene. How now! Interjections? Why, then some 
 be of laughing, as ha ! ha! he ! 
 
 Claud. Stand thee by, friar:— Father, by your 
 leave ! 
 Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
 Give ine this maid, your daughter? 
 
 Lena. .\s freely, son, as God did give her me. 
 
 Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose 
 worth 
 May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? 
 
 D. Pc Iro. Nothing, imless you render her again. 
 
 Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank- 
 fulness. — 
 There, Leonato, take her back again ; 
 Give not this rotten orange to your friend ; 
 Slic's but the sign and semblance of her honor: — 
 Behold, how like a maid she blushes here : 
 0, what authority and show of truth 
 Can cunnmg sin cover itself withal ! 
 Comes not that blood, as modest evidence. 
 To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear. 
 All you that see her, that she were a maid. 
 By these exterior shows? But she is none: 
 She knows the beat of a luxurious" bed : 
 Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 
 
 L'-nu. Wliat do you mean, my lord ? 
 
 Claud. Not to be married, 
 
 Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. 
 
 Lfi'U. Pear my lord, if you in your own proof 
 Have vanqvushed the resistance nf iier youth, 
 And made di'h at of her virginity. 
 
 Claud. I liiiow what you would say; if I have 
 known her. 
 You'll say. she did embrace me a-s a husband, , 
 And so extenuate the "forehand sin : 
 No, l.eonato, 
 I never tempted her with word too larga,' 
 
 • i. e. It is wonderful to see. « LnsciviouB. 
 
 But. as a brother to his sister show'd 
 Bashful sincerity, and comely love. 
 
 Hero. And seemed I ever otherwise to you ? 
 
 Claud. Out on thy seeming ! I will write against 
 it: 
 You seem to me as Pian in her orb: 
 As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown : 
 Hut you are more intejj^iperate in-your blood 
 Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals 
 That rage in savage sensuality. 
 
 Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so 
 \vide?B 
 
 Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you ? 
 
 D. Pcdrn. What should I speak? 
 
 I stand dishonor'd, that have i^one about 
 To link my dear friend to a common stale. 
 
 Leon. Are these things^poken? or do I hut dream? 
 
 D.John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things 
 are true. 
 
 Bene. This looks not like a nuptual. 
 
 Hern. True? O God ! 
 
 Claud. Leonato. stand I here ? 
 Is tliis tile prince? Is this tlie prince's brother ? 
 Is this face Ilero's? Are our eyes our own ? 
 
 Leon. All this is so; But wliat of this, my lord? 
 
 Claud. Let me but move one question to your 
 daughter: 
 And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
 That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 
 
 Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. 
 
 Hero. O God defend me! how am I beset! — 
 What kind of catechisins call you this? 
 
 Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. 
 
 Hern. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name 
 With any just reproacli? 
 
 Claud. Marry, that can Hero ; 
 
 Hero itself c^an blot out Hero's virtue. 
 What man was lie tall- il with you yesternight 
 Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ? 
 Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 
 
 He7-n. 1 talk'd witli no man at that hour, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. — Leo- 
 nato, 
 I am sorry you must hear; Upon mine honor, 
 Myself, niy'brother, and this grieved count 
 Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night. 
 Talk with a rutfian at her chamber-window; 
 Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal* villain, 
 Conless'd the vile encounters they have had 
 A thousand times in secret. 
 
 D. Jidin. Fye, fye ! they are 
 
 Not to be nnme'd. niy lord, not to be sjioke of; 
 There is not chastity enouu'h in language, 
 Withoul olli'nee to'ntter them : Thus, pretty lady, 
 I am sorry lor thy much mis-overnnient. 
 
 C'r/'"/. d Hero! what a Hero hailst thou been. 
 If half thy outward graces had been placed 
 About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart! 
 Bui, fare thee well, most foul, most tiiir! faicwell, 
 Tliou pure impiety, and impious ])urity ! 
 For thee I'll lock lip all the gates of love, 
 
 ' Licentious. " AViliily. » Too free of tongue. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 113 
 
 And on my eyelids shall conjecture han?. 
 To tnni all beauty iiito th.ju^lUs oi" harm, 
 And never shall li more be gracious. 
 
 Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me 1 
 [Hkuo swoou^. 
 
 Beat. Wliy, how now, cousin 1 wherefore sink 
 you down ! 
 
 D. John. Come, let us go; these things, come 
 thus to liglit, 
 Smotlier her spirits up. 
 [Eieuat Dun Pr.inin, Don JoiiTt, and Claodio. 
 
 Bene. How doth the lady ! 
 
 Beat. Dead, [ think ; — help, uncle ; — 
 
 Hero! why. Hero! — Uncle! — Signior Benedick! 
 friar ! 
 
 Leon, o tale, take not away thy heavy hand ! 
 Death is the fairest cover for her shame, 
 Tliat may be wisli'd for. 
 
 Beaf. How now, cousin Hero 1 
 
 Friar. Have comfort, lady. 
 
 Lfon. Dost thou look up ! 
 
 Friar, Yea; wlierefore should she not ! 
 
 Leun. Wherefore! Why, doth not every eirlMy 
 thing 
 Cry shame lipon her 1 Could she here deny 
 The story that is printed in her blood 1 
 Do not live. Hero : do not ope thine eyes : 
 For did I think tliou wouIJst not quickly die. 
 Thought I thy spirits were stron^'er than thy shames, 
 Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches. 
 Strike at thy life; Gricv'd 1, 1 had but one ! 
 Chid [ for that at fru:^at nature's frame !» 
 O, one too much by thee ! Why had I one ! 
 Why over wast thou lovely in my eyes! 
 Why had I not. with charitable hand. 
 Took up a begirar's issue at my gates ; 
 Who smircheii-J thus, and mir d with infamy, 
 I might have said, JVij pwt of it is mine, 
 Thi^ sliame derives itse!ffrum unknown tains? 
 Hut mine, and mine I lov'd, mine I prais'd. 
 And mine that I was proud on : mine so much. 
 That I myself was to myself not mine. 
 Valuing of her; why, she — (). she is fallen 
 Into a pit of mk! that the wide sea 
 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; 
 And salt too httle, which may season give 
 To her foul tainted flesh ! 
 
 Bene. Sir, sir, be patient: 
 
 For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 
 I know not what to say. 
 
 Beaf. O, on my soul my cousin is belied . 
 
 Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night 1 
 
 Beat. No, truly, not ; although until last night, 
 I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 
 
 Leon. Coniirm'd, conflrmd ! O, that is stronger 
 made. 
 Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! 
 Would the two princes lie I and Claudio lie — 
 Who lov'd her so. that, speaking of her foulness, 
 Wasli'd it with tears ! Hence from her; let her die. 
 
 Friar. Hear me a little : 
 For I have only been silent so long. 
 And given way unto this course of fortune, 
 By nothing of the lady: I have mark'd 
 A thousand blushing appiritions start 
 Into her face; a thousand innocent shames 
 In an-^el whiteness bear away those blushes; 
 And in her eye there hath appear'd a lire. 
 To burn the errors that these princes hold 
 .\gainst her maiden truth: — Call me a fool, 
 Trust not my reading, nor my observations. 
 Which with experimental zeal doth warrant 
 Tlie tenor of my book; trust not my age. 
 My reverence, calling, nor divinity. 
 If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
 , Under some biting error. 
 
 Leon. Friar, it cannot be: 
 
 Thou scest, that all the grace that she hath left. 
 Is, that she will not add to her damnation 
 A sin of perjury ; she not denies it : 
 Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse 
 That wliich appears in proper nakedness ! 
 Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? 
 
 Hero. They know, tliat do accuse me; I know 
 none : 
 If I know more of any man alive. 
 Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, 
 Let all my sins lack mercy ! — O my father. 
 Prove you that any man with me conversed 
 I Disposition of things. s Sullied. 
 
 .\t. hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
 
 Maiut.iiii d the cliange ot words with any creature, 
 
 Refuse me, hate me. torture me to deatli. 
 
 Friar. There is some strange mispr.sion' in the 
 princes. 
 
 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honor; 
 And if their wisdoms be misled in this. 
 The practice of it lives in John the bastard, 
 Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. 
 
 Leon. I know not ; If they speak but truth of her, 
 These hands shall tear lier;iftliey wrong Iter honor. 
 The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
 Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 
 Nor age so eat up my invention, 
 .N"or fortune made such havock of my means, 
 Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends. 
 But they shall lind. awakd in such a kind, 
 Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, 
 Ability in means, and choice of friends, 
 To quit me of tiiem thoroughly. 
 
 Friar. Pause a while. 
 
 Anil let my counsel sway you in this case. 
 Your daughter here the princes left for dead; 
 Let her awhile be secretly kept in, 
 And publish it, thit she is dead indeed: 
 Maintain a mourning ostentation : 
 And on your family's old monument 
 Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites 
 That appeartain unto a burial. 
 
 Leon. What shall become of this? What will 
 this do! 
 
 Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf ' 
 Change slander to remorse; that is some good : 
 But not for that, dream 1 on this strange course, 
 But on this travail look lor greater birtli. 
 She dying, as it must be so maintained, 
 Upon the instant that she was accus'd. 
 Snail be lamented, pitied, and excused. 
 Of every hearer: Forit so falls out. 
 That what we have we prize not to the worth. 
 Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, 
 Why, then we rack* the value; then we tind 
 The virtue, that possession would not show us 
 Whiles it was ours : — So will it fare with Claudio 
 When he shall hear she died upon his words 
 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
 Into his study of imagination ; 
 And every lovely organ of her life 
 Shall come apparcll'd in more jirecious habit, 
 .More moving-delicate, and full of life. 
 Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 
 Than when she liv'd indeed : — then shall he mourn 
 (If ever love had interest in his liver,) 
 .\nd wish he had not so accused her; 
 No, though he thought his accusation true. 
 Let this be so, and doubt not but success 
 Will fishion the event in better shape 
 Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 
 But if all aim but this be levell'd false. 
 The supposition of the lady's death 
 Will quench the wonder of her infamy: 
 .4nd. if it sort not well, you may conceal her 
 (.As' best befits her wounded reputation) 
 In some reclusive and religious life. 
 Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. 
 
 iJfy^^. Signior Leonato, let the friar advi.st^ you. 
 .\nd though, you K'now, my inwardness* and love 
 Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, 
 Yet, by mine honor, 1 will deal in this 
 As secretly, and justly, as your soul 
 Should with your body. 
 
 Leon. Being that I flow in grief, 
 
 The smallest twine may lead me. 
 
 Friar. 'Tis well consented; presently away ; 
 For to strange sores strangely they strain the 
 cure : — 
 Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day. 
 
 Perhaps, is but prolong'd; have patience, and 
 endure. 
 
 I Exeunt Friar, HEno. and Lkonato. 
 
 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this 
 while 1 
 
 Brat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 
 
 Bene. 1 will not desire that. 
 
 lieo/. You have no reason, I do it freely. 
 
 Bene. Surely, I do believe you fair cousin is 
 wrong'd. 
 
 Beol. Ah, how much might the man deserve of 
 me, tliat would right her! 
 
 3 .Miscouccptiou. * Over-rate • Intimncy, 
 
114 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Bene. Is there any way to show such tYiendsliip 1 
 
 Bejf. A very even way, but no sucli friend. 
 
 Bene, May a man do it^ 
 
 Bcuf. It is a man's ollice, but not yours. 
 
 Bc^if. I do love nothing in t)ie world so well as 
 you : Is not ttiat strange ? 
 
 Beat. As strange as the thins I know not: It 
 were as possible lor me to say, I love nothing so 
 well as you : but believe me not ; and yet I lie not ; 
 I confess nothing, nor, I deny nothing : — 1 am sorry 
 for my cousin. 
 
 Bene. l!y my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 
 
 Beat, l)o not swear by it, and eat it. 
 
 Be«e. 1 will swear by it, that you love me; and 
 I will make him eat it, that says 1 love not you. 
 
 B'lit. Will you not eat your word! 
 
 Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it: 
 I protest, I love thee. 
 
 Bea/. Why then, God forgive me ! 
 
 Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice 1 
 
 Beat. You iiave staid me m a happy hour ; 1 was 
 about to protest, I loved you. 
 
 Bene. And do it with all thy heart. 
 
 Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that 
 none is left to protest. 
 
 Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee. 
 
 Beat. Kill Claudio. 
 
 Bene Ha ! not for the wide world. 
 
 Beat. You kill me to deny it: farewell. 
 
 Bene. Tarry, sweet Ueatrice. 
 
 Beat. I am gone, though I am here : — There is 
 no love in you:— Nay, 1 pray you, let me go. 
 
 Bene. Beatrice, — 
 
 Beat. In faith, I will go. 
 
 Bene. We'll be friends lirst. 
 
 Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than 
 fiLjht with mme enemy. 
 
 Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy '' 
 
 Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, 
 that hath slandered, scorned, dishonored my kins- 
 woman ! — t), that I were a man ! — What ! bear 
 her in hand until they come to take hands; and 
 then with public accusation, uncovered slander, un- 
 mitigated rancor, — God, that I were a man! I 
 would eat his heart in the market-place. 
 
 Bene. Hear me, Beatrice ; — 
 
 Beat. Talk with a man out at a window !— a 
 proper saying ! 
 
 Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice;— 
 
 Beat. Sweet Hero! — she is wronged, she is 
 slandered, she is undone. 
 
 Bone. Beat — 
 
 Beat. Princes and counties !» Surely, a princely 
 testimony, a goodly count-confect ;' a sweet gal- 
 lant, surely ! O, that I were a man for his sake ! or 
 that I had any friend would be a man for my sake ! 
 But manhood is melted into courtesies, valor into 
 compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, 
 and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercu- 
 les, tiiat only tells a lie, and swears it: — I cannot 
 be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a wo- 
 man with grieving. 
 
 Bf-ne. Tarry, good Beatrice; By this hand, I 
 love thee. 
 
 Beat. Use it for my love some other way than 
 swearing by it. 
 
 Bene. Think you in your soul the count Clau- 
 dio hath wronged Hero! 
 
 Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a 
 soul. 
 
 Bene. Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge 
 him ; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you : By 
 this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account: 
 As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort 
 your cousin; I must say, she is dead; and so, fiire- 
 well. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Priso7i. 
 
 Enter DiiGiiF.nnY, VKnr.KS,a/iii Sexton, in goicns ; 
 and tlic Watch, wi/A Con hade and Buuachio. 
 
 Dop'}. Is our whole dissembly appeared 1 
 Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton ! 
 Sexton. Which be the malefactors? 
 Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner. 
 
 6 Nobleman. ' A nobleman made out of sugar. 
 
 Verg. Nay, thals certain; we have the exliibi 
 tion to examine. 
 
 Se^'ton. But which arc the offenders that are tobe 
 examined ] let them come before master constable. 
 
 Do^l}. Yea, marry, let them come before me. — ■ 
 What is your name, friend ' 
 
 B'ira. Borachio. 
 
 Dogh. Pray write down — Borachio-^— Yours, 
 sirrah? 
 
 Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is 
 Conrade. 
 
 Dvgb. Write down — master gentleman Con 
 rade. — Masters, do you serve God? 
 
 Con. Bora. Yea, sir, we hope. 
 
 Dogb. Write down — that they hope they serve 
 God: — and write God first; for God defend but 
 God should go before such villains ! — Masters, it is 
 proved already that you are little better than false 
 knaves ; and it will go near to be thought so short- 
 ly. How answer you for yourselves ! 
 
 Con. Marry, sir, w'e say we are none. 
 
 Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you ; 
 but I will go about with him. — Come you hither, 
 sirrah: a word in your car, sir; Isay to you, it is 
 thought you are false linavcs. 
 
 Birra. Sir, I say to you, we are none. 
 
 Dogb. Well, stand aside. — 'Fore God, they are 
 both in a tale: Have you writ down — that they 
 are none ? 
 
 Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way 
 to examine : you must call forth the watch that 
 are their accusers. 
 
 Dogb. Yea, marry, that's the eflest way: — Let 
 the watch come forth.— Masters, I charge you, in 
 the prince's name, accuse these men. 
 
 1 JValeli. This man said, sir, that don John, the 
 prince's brother, was a villain. 
 
 Dogb. W^rite down — prince John a villain : — 
 Why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother 
 — villain. 
 
 Bora. Master constable, — 
 
 Dogb. Pray thoe, fellow, peace; I do not like 
 thy look, 1 promise thee. 
 
 'Srxton. What heard you him say else? 
 
 2 IValcli. Marry, that he had received a thou- 
 sand ducats of don John, for accusing the lady 
 Hero wrongfully. 
 
 Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed. 
 J'erg. Yea, by the mass, that it is. 
 Sexton. What else, fellow ? 
 
 1 Wateli. And that count Claudio did mean, 
 upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole 
 assembly, and not marry her. 
 
 Dogb. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into 
 everlasting redemption for this. 
 Sexton. What else ? 
 
 2 Watcti. This is aU. 
 
 Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can 
 deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen 
 away ; Hero was in this manner accused, in this 
 very manner refused, and upon the grief of this 
 suddenly died. — Master constable, let these men be 
 bound, and brought to Leonato's; I will go betbre, 
 and show him their examination. \Exit. 
 
 Dogb. Come, let tliem be opiiiioned. 
 
 Verg. Let them be in band. 
 
 Con. Oir, coxcomb ! 
 
 Dogb. Gods mvlife! Where's the sexton? let 
 him write down — the prince's officer, coxcomb. — 
 Come, bind them: fhou naughty varlet! 
 
 Cm}. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. 
 
 Dt>gb. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost 
 thou not suspect my years !— that he were here 
 to write me down— an ass !— but, masters, remem- 
 ber, that I am an ass ; though it be not written 
 down, yet forget not that I am an ass : — No, thou 
 villain, thou aft full of piety, as shall be proved 
 upon thee by gooil witness. I am a wise fellow ; 
 and, which is more, an officer; and, which is more 
 a householder : and, which is more, as pretty a 
 piece of flesh as any is in Messina ; and one that 
 knows the law, go to ; and a rich fellow enough, 
 go to ; and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one 
 that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome 
 about him : — 13ring him away. O, that I had 
 been writ down — an ass. {Exeunt 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTIirxa. 
 
 115 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE \.—Bffure Leonato's House. 
 Enter Lkoxato and Axtoxio. 
 
 AnI. If you sjo on llius, you will kill yourself; 
 And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief 
 Against yourself. 
 
 Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
 Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
 As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 
 Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, 
 But such a one whose wroii„'S do su.t with mine. 
 Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child. 
 Whose joy of her is overwhelmd like mine. 
 And bid him speak of patience ; 
 Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, 
 And let it answer every strain for strain ; 
 As thus for thus, and such a grief for such. 
 In every lineament, branch, sliape, and form : 
 If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard; 
 Cry — sorrow, wa'.r! and iiem, when he should groan; 
 Patch grief with proverbs, make mistortune drunk 
 With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, 
 And I of him will gather patience. 
 But there is no such man ; For, brother, men 
 Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 
 Which they themselves not feel ; but tasting it. 
 Their counsel turns to passion, which before 
 Would give preceptial medicine to rage. 
 Fetter strong madness in a silken thread. 
 Charm ache with air. and agony with words : 
 NtJ, no: 'tis all men's ofliee to speak patience 
 To those that wring under the load of sorrow, 
 But no man's virtue, nor sufiiciency. 
 To be .so moral, when he shall endure 
 The like himself: therefore give me no counsel : 
 My griefs cry louder than advertisement," 
 
 Ant. Thereindo men from children nothing differ. 
 
 />o«. I pray thee, peace : I will be flesh and blood ; 
 For there was never yet philosopher. 
 That could endure the tooth-ache patiently ; 
 However they have writ the style of gods. 
 And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 
 
 Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; 
 Make those, that do olfcnd you, sutfer too. 
 
 Leun. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will 
 do so: 
 Jly soul doth tell me. Hero is belied ; 
 And that shall Chuuiio know, so shall the prince, 
 And all of them, that thus dishonor her. 
 
 Enter Dun PF.nno and Claudio. 
 
 Ant. Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily, 
 
 D. Pedro. Good den good den. 
 
 Ctnud. Good day to both of you. 
 
 Leon. Here you, my lords. — 
 
 D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. 
 
 D:on. Some haste, my lord ! — well, fare you well, 
 my lord : — 
 Are you so hasty now 1 — well, all is one. 
 
 D. Pedro. N.ay, do not quarrel with us, good old 
 man. 
 
 Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling. 
 Some of us would lie low. 
 
 Claud. Who wrongs him? 
 
 Leon. Marry, 
 
 Thou, thou dost wroni me: thou dissembler, thou: — 
 Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, 
 I fear thee not. 
 
 Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand. 
 
 If it should give your age such cause of fear: 
 In taith, my harid meant nothing to my sword. 
 
 Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me; 
 I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; 
 As, under privilege of age, to brag 
 What I have done being young, or what would do. 
 Were I not old : Know Claudio, to thy head. 
 Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me. 
 That I ant forc'd to lay my reverence by; 
 And, witli grey hairs, and bruise of many days, 
 Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
 I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child; 
 Thy slander hath gone through and through her 
 
 heart, 
 And she lies buried with her ancestors : 
 O! in a tomb where never scandal slept, 
 « Admonition. 
 
 Save this of hers fi-am'd by thy villany ! 
 
 Claud. BIy villany ! 
 
 L'on. Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. 
 
 D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord. 
 
 I'll prove it on his body, if he dare; 
 Despite his nice fence, and Ids active practice. 
 His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 
 
 Claud. Away. I will not have to do with you. 
 
 Leon. Canst thou so dalF meT Thou hast liiU'd 
 my child; 
 If thou kili'st me. boy, thou shall kill a man. 
 
 Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed; 
 But that's no matter; let him kill one first ; 
 Win me and wear me, — let him answer me, — 
 Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me: 
 Sir boy. I'll whip you from your fbining' fence; 
 Nay. as I am a geiAleman, I will. 
 
 Lmn. Brother. — 
 
 Ant. Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd my 
 niece; 
 And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains; 
 That dare as well answer a man, indeed, 
 /Vs I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 
 Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops \ — ■ 
 
 Leon. Brother Antony, — 
 
 Ant Hold you content: What, man! I know 
 them, yea, 
 .\nd what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple : 
 Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys. 
 That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, 
 Go anticly, and show outward hideousness, 
 And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, 
 How tliey might hurt their enemies, if they durst. 
 And this is all. 
 
 Leon. But, brotjier Antony, — 
 
 Ant. Come, 'tis no matter; 
 
 Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. 
 
 D. Pedro. Genilemcn both, we will not wake 
 your patience. 
 My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ; 
 But. on my honor, she was charg'd with nothing 
 But what was true, and very full of proof. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, — 
 
 D. Pedro. I will not hear you. 
 
 Leon. No ! 
 
 Brother, away : — I will be heard ; — 
 
 Ant. And shall, 
 
 Or some of us will smart for it. 
 
 [Exeunt Lkoxato and Axtonio. 
 Enter BESF.nicK. 
 
 X). Pedro. See, see ; here comes the man we went 
 to seek. 
 
 Claud. Now, signior! what news? 
 
 Bene. Good day. my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: You are almost 
 come to part almost a fray. 
 
 Ctaud. We had like to have had our two noses 
 snapped otl'with two old men without teeth. 
 
 i). Pedro. Leonato and his brother: What 
 think'st thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should 
 have been too young for them. 
 
 Bene. In a ftUse quarrel there is no true valor. 
 I came to seek you both. 
 
 Claud. We have been up and, down to seek thee ; 
 for we are high-proof melancholy, and would faiu 
 have it beaten away : Wilt thou use thy wit? - 
 
 Brne. It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it ? 
 
 L>. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ? 
 
 Claud. Never any did so, though very many 
 have been beside their wit. — I will bid thee draw, 
 as we do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us. 
 
 D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks 
 pale : — .Art thou sick, or angry ? 
 
 Claud. What! courage,^ man! What though 
 care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to 
 kill care. 
 
 Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, 
 an you charge it against me : — I pray you, choose 
 another subject. 
 
 Claud. Nay. then give him another stall'; this 
 last was broke cross. 
 
 D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and 
 more ; I think, he be angry indeed. 
 B Thrusting. 
 
116 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Clait'l. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle- 
 
 Bene. Sliall \ speak a word in your ear \ 
 
 Claial. God bless me iV-nn a ohillen^e ] 
 
 Bene. You are a viJlaui ; — I jest not; — I will 
 make it ^ood how you dare, with what you dare, 
 and when you dare: — Do nie ri^ht, or I wUl pro- 
 test your cowardice. Vmi liave killed a sweet lady, 
 and "iier death shall fall heavy on you : Let me hear 
 iroin you. 
 
 Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have 
 good cheer. 
 
 D. Pedro, What,a feast? a feast T 
 
 Claud. ITaith, i tliank him; he hatli bid me to 
 a calf's head and a capon; the which if I do not 
 carve most curiously, say. my knife's naught. — 
 Shall I not find a wooiicock too I 
 
 Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. 
 
 D. Pedro. Ill tell thee how Beatri<-e praised thy 
 wit the other day: I said thou hadst a tine wit: 
 True, says she, a fine little one: No, said I, a gi'eat 
 ivit ; RUhf, says sJie, a ^rcat gross one : Nai/, said I, 
 a good wit; Just, said she, it hurts noOndy: Nay 
 Slid I, the gentleman is wise,- Certain, said she. a 
 7t'/-se .gentleman : Nay said I. tie hatfi the tongues ; 
 Tkai I believe, said she f»r fie swore a thing to me 
 un Mfi/rlay Jiig/it, which he forswore on Tuesday 
 morning; tliere's a double tongue; there's two 
 tongues. Thus did she, an liour to2;ether, trans- 
 shape thy particular virtues; yet, at last, she con- 
 cluded With a sigh, thou wast the properest man 
 in Italy. 
 
 Claud. For the which she wept he.irtily, and 
 said she cared not. 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet for all that, 
 an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love 
 him dearly : the old man's daughter told us all. 
 
 ClauiL All, all J and moreover, God saw him 
 ivhen he luas hid in the garden. 
 
 D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage 
 bull's horns on the sensible Benedicks head 1 
 
 Claud. Yea. and text underneath, Here dwells 
 Benedick the married man ? 
 
 Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my mind; 
 I will leave you now to your gossip-like humor: 
 you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, 
 God be thanked, hurt hi)t. — My lord, for your many 
 courtesies, 1 thank you: I must discontinue your 
 company: your brother, the bastard, is Ilcd from 
 ]Messina: you have, among you, killed a sweet and 
 innocent lady: For my lord lack-beard, there, he 
 and I shall meet; and till then, peace be with him. 
 [Exit Benedick. 
 
 D. Pedro. He is in earnest. 
 
 C'/f/fc^. In most profDUiid earnest; and, I'll war- 
 rant you, for the love of iteatnce. 
 
 D. Pedro. And halh rhallenged thee f 
 
 Claud. Most sincerely. 
 
 I). Pedro. What a pretty thin:^ man is, when h» 
 goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit I 
 
 Eater Dogbkhrt, Vehges. an-l the Watch, with 
 CuNRAnE and Borachio. 
 
 Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then 
 ig ;in ape a doctor to su -h a man. 
 
 D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be; pluck up, my 
 heart, and be sad !' Did he not say, my brother was 
 lleJ ] 
 
 Dogh. Come, you, sir; if justi::e cannot tame you, 
 she shall neer weigh mure re.isons in her balance: 
 nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must 
 be looked to. 
 
 D. Pd'lro. How now, two of my brother's men 
 bound"! Borachio. one! 
 
 Claud. Hen-ken after their oflfence. my lord ! 
 
 D. Pedro. Odicers, what o:fence have these men 
 done f 
 
 Dogh. Marry, sir, they have committed f-ilse re- 
 port ; moreover, they have spoken untruths; se- 
 condarily, they are slanders; sixth, and lastly they 
 have belied a lady ; thirdly, they have verilied un- 
 just things ; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. 
 
 D. Pedro. First, 1 ask thee what they have done; 
 thirdly, I ask thee whafs tiieir offence; 'sixth and 
 lastly, why they arc committed; and, to conclude, 
 what you lay to their charge? 
 
 Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division ; 
 and, by my troth, tlieres one meaning well suited. 
 
 D. Pedro. Whom have you olfended, masters ; 
 tliat you are thus bound to your answer! this 
 I Serious. 
 
 learned constable is too cunning to be understood. 
 What's your oilence \ 
 
 Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine 
 answer; do you hear me, and let this count kill me. 
 I have deceived even your very eyes; what your 
 wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools 
 have brought to light; who, in the night, over- 
 heard me confcssini; to this man, how don John 
 your brother inceiiseda me to slander tlie lady 
 Hero: how you were brouiiht into the orchard, and 
 saw ine court Margaret in Hero's garments; how 
 you disgraced her, when you should many her: 
 my villany they have upon record; which I had 
 rather seal vi'ith my death, than repeat over to my 
 sliame; the lady isdead upon mine and my master's 
 falso-accusatiori ; and, bnelly, I desire nothing but 
 the reward of a villain. 
 
 D. Pedrn. Runs not thisspeech like iron through 
 your blood? 
 
 Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd iL 
 
 Z>. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this? 
 
 Bora. Yea, and paid ine richly for the practice of it. 
 
 D. Pedrn. He is compos'd and frame d of trea- 
 chery : — 
 And fled he is upon tliis villany. 
 
 Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear 
 In the rare semblance that I loved it first. 
 
 Jjiigb. Come, bring away the plaintiils; by this 
 time our sexton liath reformed signior Leonato of 
 the matter. And, masters, do not forget to specify, 
 when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. 
 
 X'^erg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato, 
 and the sexton too. 
 Re-enter Leoxato and AsToy\o,with the Sexton. 
 
 Lcini. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes 
 That when I note another man like him, 
 I may avoid him : Whicli of these is he ? 
 
 Bo7-a. If you would know your wronger, look 
 on me. 
 
 Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath 
 hast kiU'd 
 Mine innocent child ? 
 
 Bora. Yea, even I alone. 
 
 Leon. No, not so, villain; thou bely'st thyseff; 
 Here stand a pair of honorable men, 
 A third is fled, that had a hand in it: — 
 I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death; 
 Record it with your hi:ih and worthy deeds; 
 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 
 
 Claud. I know not how to pray your patience. 
 Yet I must speak : Choose your revenge yourself; 
 Impose me to what penance your invention 
 Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd 1 not. 
 But in. mistaking. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I ; 
 
 And yet. to satisfy this good old man, 
 I would bend under any heavy weight 
 That he'll enjoin me to. 
 
 Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live, 
 That were impossible: but, I pray you both, 
 Possess' the people in Messina here 
 How innocent she died: and, if your love 
 Can labor au2"ht in sad invention. 
 Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb. 
 And sing it to her oones ; sing it to-night : — 
 To-morrow morning come you to my house; 
 And since you could not be my son-in-law. 
 Bo yet my nephew: my brother halh a daughter, 
 Almost the copy of my child that's dead, 
 And she alone is heir to both of us; 
 Give hertlie right you should have given her cousin. 
 And so d es my revenge. 
 
 Claud. O, noble sir, 
 
 Your over-kindness dolh wring tears from me! 
 I do embrace your offer; and dispose 
 For henceforth of poor Claudio. 
 
 Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming 
 To-niu'ht I take my leave. — This naughty man 
 Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 
 Who, I believe, was park'd* in all this wrong, 
 Hird to it by your brother. 
 
 Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; 
 
 Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me; 
 But always hath been just and virtuous, 
 In any thiut; that I do know hy her. 
 
 D"f^b. Moreover, sir,(whK'h. indeed, is not under 
 wdiite and black.) this plaintilT here, the offender 
 did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered 
 a Incited. 3 A&iuaiut. * Combined 
 
SCE>JE II. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG. 
 
 117 
 
 in Ills punishment: And alsn the watch heard theni 
 talk of one Uefonncd : tlie>' say, he wears a key in 
 his ear, and a lock hin:,'iru hy 'it ; and borrows mo- 
 ney in God's name; iiie which he hath used so 
 long, and never paid, that now men t; row hard- 
 hearted, and will lend nothing; for (lods sake: 
 Pray you. examine him upon that point. 
 
 Lmii. 1 thank thee for tny care and honest pains. 
 
 Dogh. Your worship speaks like a most thank- 
 ful and reverend youth; and I piaise Uod for you. 
 
 ion. There's for thy pauis. 
 
 Dijgb God save the foundation ! 
 
 Leon. (Jo, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and 
 I thank thee. 
 
 Dogb. 1 leave an arrant knave with your worship; 
 which, 1 hesiech your worship, to correct yourself, 
 for the example of others. God keejj your wor- 
 ship;! wish your worship well; God restore you 
 to health: 1 humbly give you leave to depart; and 
 if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit 
 it. — Come, neighbor. 
 
 [Ex. DoGBEHT, Veuoks, aild Wutch. 
 
 Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. 
 
 Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you to- 
 morrow. 
 
 D. Pedro. We will not f.iil. 
 
 Ciuud. To-night 1 11 mourn with Hero. 
 
 [Exeunt JJoii Ftnito and Cr.ArDio. 
 
 Leon. Bring you these fellows on ; we'll talk 
 with Margaret, 
 How her acquaintance grew with thislewd' fellow. 
 
 [Exeujit. 
 
 SCENE II. — Lconato's Garden. 
 
 Enter BtXEnicV and MwimnET, meeting. 
 
 Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, de- 
 serve well at my hands,by helping nic to the speech 
 of Beatrice. 
 
 Marg. Will youthen write me a sonnet in praise 
 of my beauty ! 
 
 Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man 
 living shall come over it; for in iuost comely truth, 
 thou deserves it. 
 
 ^furg. To have no man come over mel why, 
 shall I always keep below stairs! 
 
 Bene. I'hy wit is as quick as the greyhound's 
 mouth, it catches. 
 
 Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, 
 which nit, but hurt not. 
 
 Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not 
 hurt a woman ; and so I pray thee, call Beatrice : 
 I give thee the bucklers. 
 
 Marg. Give us the sword, we have bucklers of 
 our own. 
 
 Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put 
 in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous 
 weapons for maids. 
 
 ^Iarg. well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I 
 think, hath legs. [Exit M.iugj.het. 
 
 Bene. And therefore will come. 
 
 Tke god of tave, [Singing.l 
 
 That sits a^iove, 
 And ItMows me, and knows me. 
 Haw pitiful I d-cserve, — 
 I mean, in singing: but in loving, — Leander the 
 good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pan- 
 dars, and a whole book full of these quondam car- 
 pet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly m the 
 even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so 
 truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love: 
 Marry, ! cannot show it in rhyme ; 1 have tried ; 1 
 can find out no rhyme to tadij but ba'nj, an innocent 
 rliyme; for .TOira, /lor;;, a hard rhyme; for icliool. 
 fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: 
 No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I 
 cannot woo in festivial terms. 
 
 Enter Beatiiice. 
 
 Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called 
 thee! 
 
 Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. 
 
 Brne, O, stay but till then ! 
 
 Beat Then, is spoken; fare you well now: — 
 and yet. ere I go, let me go with that I came for. 
 which is.with knowing what hath passed between 
 you and CTaudio. 
 
 Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will 
 kiss thee. 
 
 t Wicked. 
 
 Beat. Konl words are hut tbul breath, and fnul 
 breath is noisonie; fherelbre I will depart unkissed. 
 
 Bene. Thou hast lrii;hted the word out of his 
 right sense, so forcible is thy wit: Hut I must tell 
 thee plainly, CTaudio undergoes my challenge; 
 and either !' must shortly hear from him, or 1 will 
 subscribe him a coward. And. I pray thee now, 
 tell me. fur which of my bad parts didst thou first 
 fall in love with me? 
 
 Beat. For them all together; which maintained so 
 politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any 
 aood part to intermingle with them. But lor which 
 of my good parts did you first sulTer love for me! 
 
 Bene. Sujfer tore; a good epithet! I do sulit'r 
 love, indeed, lor I love thee asautst my will. 
 
 Beat. In spite of your iieart. I think; alas! poor 
 heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for 
 yours; for I will never love that which my iViend 
 hates. 
 
 Benp, Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. 
 
 Beat. It appears not in this confession: there s 
 not one wise man among twenty that will praise 
 himself. 
 
 Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that 
 lived in the time of good neighbors: if a man do 
 not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he 
 shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings, 
 and tile widow weeps. 
 
 Beat. And how long is that, think you t 
 
 Bene. Question! — Why, an hour in clamor, 
 and a quarter in rheum : Therefore it is most expe- 
 dient for the wise, (if don Worm hisconscicnsc hnd 
 no impediment to the contrary.) to be the trumpet 
 of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So much for 
 praising myself, (wlio, 1 myself will bear witness is 
 praise-worthy,) anil now tell me, How doth your 
 cousin ! 
 
 Beat. Very ill. 
 
 Bene. And how do you ? 
 
 Beat. Very ill too. 
 
 Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there 
 will 1 leave you too, for here comes one in haste. 
 
 Enter UnsuLA. 
 Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; 
 yonders old coil« at home : it is proved, my lady 
 Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and 
 Claudio mightily abused; and don John is the 
 author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come 
 presently ! 
 Beat. Will you go he.ar this news, signior t 
 Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap. Jnd 
 be buried in thy eyes, and, moreover, I will go 
 with thee to thy uncles. [Exeunt- 
 
 SCE.NE III. — The Insiile of a Church. 
 
 Enter Don Pediio, Curmo, and Attendants, icith, 
 
 music and tapers. 
 
 Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato ! 
 Alien. It is, my lord. 
 Claud. [Reads from a scroll.] 
 
 Bone to death bij slanderous tongues, 
 
 IVax the Hero that here lies: 
 Death in guerdon'' (flier ivrongs. 
 
 Gives her fame which never dies : 
 So the life, ihat died ivith sluime. 
 Lives in death with gluriousfanie. 
 
 Hang thou tliere upon the tomb, [Affixing it. 
 Bruising her wh'n I am dumb. — 
 Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. 
 SONG. 
 
 Pardon, goddess (f lite night. 
 Those that .sletv thii virgin knight, 
 F(n- the trhich. irith songs if woe. 
 Round about her tomb they go. 
 Midnight, assist our moan ; 
 Hell) us to sigh and groan, 
 
 Heavili;, Iteurily : 
 Graves yawn, and yield your dead, 
 Till death be uttered. 
 Heavily, heavily. 
 Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! 
 
 Yearly will I do this rite. 
 D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your 
 
 torches out: 
 The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle day, 
 6 Stir. 1 Reward. 
 
118 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 Before the wlieels of Phcebus, round about 
 
 Dapples the drowsy east witfi Sjjots of grey : 
 Thanks to you all. and leave us; tare you well. 
 Claud. Good morrow, masters; each l)is several 
 
 way. 
 D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other 
 weeds ; 
 And then to Leonato's we will go. 
 
 Claud. And, Hymen, now with Iiickier issue 
 speeds, 
 Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe ! 
 
 1 Exeunt. 
 SCENE IV. — A Room in Leonato's House- 
 Enter Lkonato, Anton TO, Ben KDTCK, Beathice, 
 UiisPtA, Friar, and Hero. 
 
 Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent? 
 
 Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accusd 
 her, 
 Upon the error that you heard debated: 
 But Margaret was m some luult for this. 
 Although against her will, as it appears 
 In the true course of all the question. 
 
 Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. 
 
 Bene. And so am I, being else by Iriith enfore'd 
 To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 
 
 Le(ni. Well, daughter, and you, gentlewoman all. 
 Withdraw into a ch.imber by yourselves; 
 And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd : 
 The prince and Claudio promised by this hour 
 To visit me ; — Vou know your office, brollier ; 
 You must be fatlier to your brother's daughter. 
 And give her to young^Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. 
 
 Ant. Which i will do with confrrm'd countenance. 
 
 Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. 
 
 Friar. To do what, signior 1 
 
 Ben/: To bind me, or undo me, one of them. — 
 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. 
 Your niece regards me with au eye of favor. 
 
 Leon. 'J'hat eye my daughter lent her: 'Tis most 
 true. 
 
 Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
 
 Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from 
 me. 
 From Claudio and the prince; Butwhafs your will] 
 
 Bene, Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: 
 But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
 May stand with tmrs, this day to be conjoiifd 
 In the estate of honorable marriage; — 
 In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. 
 
 Leini. My lieart is with your liking. 
 
 Fritir. And my help. 
 
 Here comes the prince, and Claudio. 
 Enter Don Pkdko, and Claudio, icith Attendants. 
 
 D. I'edro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. 
 
 L^on. Good morrow, prince: good morrow, Clau- 
 dio ; 
 We here attend you; are you yet determin'd 
 To-day to marry with ray brother's daughter T 
 
 Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. 
 
 Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar 
 ready. [Exit Antonio. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why, what's 
 the matter. 
 That you have such a February face. 
 So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness 1 
 
 C'and. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull : — 
 Tush, fear not, man. we'll tip thy horns with gold. 
 And all Europa shall rejoice at thee; 
 As once Europa did at lusty Jove, 
 When he would play the noble beast in love. 
 
 Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low ; 
 And some such strange bull leapd your father's 
 
 cow. 
 And got a calf in that same noble feat. 
 Much lik(^ to you, lor you have just his bleat 
 
 Re-eiiler Antonio, with the Ladies masked. 
 
 Claud. For this I owe you: here come other 
 reckonings. 
 Which is the lady I must seize upon? 
 Ant. This same is she. and I do give you her. 
 Claud. Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see 
 
 your face. 
 Leini. ^o, that you shall not, till you take her 
 hand, 
 Befirr this friar, and swear to marry her. 
 Claud. Give mc your hand before this holy friar; 
 
 I am your husband, if you like of me. 
 
 Hero. And when I lived I was your other wife: 
 
 [Unma.iMng. 
 And when you loved, you were my other husband, 
 
 Claud. Another Hero ! 
 
 Hero. Nothing certainer: 
 
 One Hero died defil'd ; but I do live. 
 And, surely as I live. 1 am a maid. 
 
 JJ. Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that is dead ! 
 
 Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander 
 lived. 
 
 Friar. All this amazement can I qualify ; 
 When, after that tiie holy rites are ended, 
 I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: 
 Mean time let wonder seem I'amiliar, 
 And to the chapel let us presently. 
 
 Bene. Soft and fair, friar. — Which is Beatrice I 
 
 Bc<it. I answer to that name; [Unniastiing.) 
 What is your will ! 
 
 B^ne. Do not you love me? 
 
 Beat. No, no more than reason. 
 
 Bene. Why, then your uncle, and thcprince, 
 and Claudio, 
 Have been deceivetl ; for they swore you did. 
 
 Beat. Do you not love me ? 
 
 Bene. No, no more than reason 
 
 Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret.and Ursula, 
 Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. 
 
 Bene. Tliey swore that you were almost sick 
 for me. 
 
 Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead 
 for me. 
 
 Bene. 'Tis no such matter: — Then you do not 
 love me ! • 
 
 Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. 
 
 Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the 
 gentleman. 
 
 Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves 
 her; 
 For here's a paper, written in his hand, 
 A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, 
 Fashion'd to Beatrice. 
 
 Jlero. And here's another. 
 
 Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, 
 Containing her aIli?ction unto Benedick. 
 
 Bene. A miracle ! beret's our own hands against 
 our hearts! — Come, I will have thee; but, by this 
 light, I take thee lor pity. 
 
 Beat. I would not deny you ; but, by this good 
 day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to 
 save your life; for I was told you were in a con- 
 sumption. 
 
 Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth — 
 
 [Kissi?!^ her. 
 
 D. Pelro. How dost thou. Benedick the married 
 man ? 
 
 Bene. Ill tell thee what prince; a college of 
 wit-crackers cannot llout me out of my humor; 
 Dost thou think, I care lor a satire, or an epigram: 
 No: If a man will be beaten with brains, he shall 
 wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since 
 I do propose to marry, 1 will think nothing to any 
 purpose that the world can say against it; and 
 therefore never llout at me for what 1 have said 
 against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my 
 conclusion. — For thy part, Claudio, I did think to 
 have beaten thee ; biit in that' thou art like to be 
 my kinsman, live uiibruised, and love my cousin. 
 
 Claud. I had well liopi d, thou wouldst have de- 
 nied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out 
 of thv single life, to make thee a double dealer; 
 which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin 
 do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. 
 
 Bene, tome, come, we are friends. — let's have 
 a dance, ere we are married, that we might lighten 
 our own hearts and our wives' heels. 
 
 Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. 
 
 Bene. Fir.st, on my word ; therefore, play, music. 
 — I'rincc, thou art sad ; get thee a wife, get lliee a 
 wile: there is no stall" more reverend than one tip- 
 ped with horn. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess, My lord, your brother John is ta'en in 
 light. 
 And brought with armed men back to Messina. 
 
 Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow; I'll 
 devise thee brave punishments for him. — Strike up, 
 pipers. [Dance. — Exeunt. 
 
 * Because. 
 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHFS DREAM. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Theseus, Duke of Athens. 
 Egeus, Father to Hermia. 
 
 DKMETn'us,} ''»'<"-'« '"''^"«"»'^- 
 PiiiLosTiiATr.. Mmter nt the Revets to Theseus. 
 Quince, the Carpenter, 
 Snug, the Joiner. 
 Bottom, the. IVetiver. 
 Flutk, th£ Bellaws-nuncler. 
 Snout, /Ae Tinker. 
 Stahvelisg, the Tailor. 
 
 HippoLTTA, Queen of tlie Amazons, betrothed to 
 
 Theseus. 
 Hermia, J5u.7gWer/n Egeus, in tore tt'i/ALysander. 
 Helena, in love with Demetrius. 
 
 Oatnos, Kln^ of the Fairies. 
 TiTANiA, Queen if the fairies. 
 Puck, or RoiuN-noonFELLow, a Fairy, 
 
 PE AS-BL05S0>I, ^ 
 
 Cnn wek, 
 
 ^^oTn, ( 
 
 MrSTATlD-SEEn, . 
 
 Poramus, 
 
 Thishe, 
 
 Wall, 
 
 J^Ioonsliine, 
 
 Lion, 
 
 Fairies. 
 
 Charatitrs in tlie Interlude 
 jxrfornied by the Clowns. 
 
 Other Fairies attending their King and Queen. 
 Attendants on Theseus and Hyppolyta. 
 
 SCEXE, Athens; and a Wood not far from it- 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Athens. A Room in the Palace of 
 Theseus. 
 
 £«to' Theseus, Hippolt-ta, PaiLOSTnATE, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 The. Now, fair Hyppolyta, our nuptual houi 
 Draws on apace ; four happy clays bring in 
 Another moon : but, oh, raethinks, how slow 
 This old moon wanes ! she lingers my desires, 
 Like to a step-dame, or a dowager. 
 Long withering out a young man's revenue.^ 
 
 Hip. Four days will qui 
 nights ; 
 
 [quickly steep themselves in 
 
 Four nights will quickly dream away the time ; 
 And then the moon, like to a silver how 
 New bent in heaven, shall behold the night 
 Of our solemnities. 
 
 The. Go, Philostrate, 
 
 Stir up the Athenian youth to merriment-; 
 Awake tlie pert and nimble spirit of mirlli ; 
 Turn melancholy forth to funerals. 
 The pale companion is not for our pomp. 
 
 [Exit PlIILOSTBATE. 
 
 Hippolyta. I wooetl thee with my sword, 
 And won thv love, dini thee injuries; 
 But I will wed thee in another key, 
 AVith pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. 
 
 Enter Egeus, MKn>tiA, Ltsandeii, and 
 De.iiethius. 
 
 Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! 
 
 The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news 
 with thee? 
 
 Ege.. Full of vexation come I. with complaint 
 Against my child, my daughter Hermia,— 
 Stand forth. Demetrius;— My noble lord. 
 This man hath my consent to marry her : — 
 Stand firth. Lvsander ; — and, my gracious duke, 
 Til is hath b?witehed the bosom of my child: 
 Thou, thou, Lysandcr, thou hast given her rhymes, 
 
 And interchanged love-toliens with my child : 
 
 Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, 
 
 With feigning voice, verses of feigning love ; 
 
 And stofn the impression other fantasy 
 
 With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits, 
 
 Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats ; messengers 
 
 (If strong prevailmcht in unharden'd youth: 
 
 With cunning hast thou filch'd mydaugliter's heart , 
 
 Turn'd her oliedience, which is due to .ne. 
 
 To stubborn harshness: — And, my gracious duke, 
 
 Be it so she will not here before your grace 
 
 Consent to marry with Demetrius, 
 
 I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; 
 
 As she is mine, I may dispose of her : 
 
 Which shall be cither to this gentleman, 
 
 Or to her death ; according to our law, 
 
 Dnniediately provided in that case. 
 
 The. What say you, Hermia! be advised, fair 
 maid : 
 To you your fatlier should be as a god ; 
 One that coinpoi'd your beauties; yea, and one 
 To whom you are but as a form in wax, 
 l!y him imprinted, and within his power 
 To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 
 Demetrius is a "worthy gentleman. 
 
 ]ler. So is Lysander. 
 
 The. In himself he is: 
 
 Put, in this kind, wanting your (Ruber's voice, 
 Tlie other must be held the worthier. 
 
 Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes. 
 
 The. Rather your eyes must with his judgmenl 
 look. 
 
 Her. 1 do entreat your grace to pardon me. 
 I I<now not by what power I am made bold; 
 Nor how it may concern my modesty. 
 In such a presence here, to plead my thougl !s : 
 Hat I beseech your grace that I may know 
 The worst that may befal me in this case, 
 If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 
 
 The. Either to die the death, or to abjure 
 
 iia 
 
120 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 For ever the society of men. 
 
 Therefore, lair Hennia, question your desires, 
 
 Know of your youth, examine well your blood. 
 
 Whether, if you yield not to your lather's choice, 
 
 Vou can endure the hvery of a nun ; 
 
 Kor aye to be m shady cloister mew d, 
 
 To hve a barren sister all your hfe, 
 
 Chantini; funt hymns to the cold fru tles-s moon. 
 
 Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood, 
 
 To under^^o such maiden pili,q-iinaj;e: 
 
 But earthher happy is the rose distilPd, 
 
 Than that, which withering on the viri^tn thorn, 
 
 Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. 
 
 Her. So wiU I ^row, so live, so die, my lord. 
 Ere I will yield my vir^iin patent up 
 Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke 
 Mv soul consents not to give soverei^^uty. 
 
 The, Take time to pause ; and, by the next new 
 moon, 
 (The sealins-day betwixt my love and me, 
 Kor everlasting; bond of fellowship,) 
 Upon that day either prepare to die, 
 For disobedience to your father's will; 
 Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would; 
 Or on Diana's altar to protest. 
 For aye, austerity and single life. 
 
 Dsm. Relent, sweet Hermia ; — And, Lysander, 
 yield 
 Thy crazed title to my certain right. 
 
 Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius: 
 Let me have Herniia's: do you marry him. 
 
 E'^e. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love; 
 And what is mine my love shaij render liim: 
 And she is mine; and all my right of her 
 1 do estate unto Demetrius. 
 
 L^fS. 1 am, my lord, as well deriv'd as*he. 
 As well possess'd; my love is more than his; 
 My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, 
 If not with vantage, as Demetrms' ; 
 And. which is more than oil these boasts can be, 
 I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia: 
 Why should not I then prosecute my right] 
 Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, 
 Madn love to Nedir's dauirhtcr, llrlena. 
 And won her soul ; and she, swoct lady, dotes 
 Upon this spnttei' and inconstant man. 
 
 Tke. I must confess, that I have heard so much. 
 And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; 
 But, being over-full of self-affairs, 
 My mind did lose it. — I3ut, Demetrius, come; 
 And come. Kgeus; you shall go with me; 
 T have some private schooling for you both.^ 
 For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself 
 To fit your f^incies to your father's will ; 
 Or else the law of Athens yields you up 
 (Which by no means we may extenuate) 
 To death, or to a vow of single life. — 
 Come, my Hippolyta; What cheer, my love? 
 Demetrius, and Kgeus, go along : 
 I must employ you in some busiupss 
 Ai^ainst our n'uptual; and confer with you 
 Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. 
 
 E^e. With duty and desire, we follow you. 
 [Evftni TEiKs., Hip., Egk., Dkm., o'if/ Traw. 
 
 Lys. How now. my level VVhy is your cheek 
 so pale] 
 How chance the roses ther-e do fade so fast? 
 
 He'-. Belike, for want of rain ; which I could well 
 Beteem* them from the tempest of mine eyes. 
 
 Lis. Ah mc ! for aught tliat ever I could read, 
 Could ever hear by tale or history, 
 The course of true love never did run smooth: 
 But. either it was different in blood ; 
 
 Hc}\ O cross! too hiLdi to be enthraird to low ! 
 
 Lus. Or else mis^iralTed, in respect of years; 
 
 Her. O spite! too old to be euira^^'d to young! 
 
 /,v.^. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends; 
 
 H:r. O hell ! to choose love by another's eye ! 
 
 Lys. Or. if there were a sympathy in choice 
 War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; 
 Making it momcntanya as a sound. 
 Swift, as a shadow, short as any dream; 
 Brief as the lii;:htning in the collied* night. 
 That, in a spleen, mifolds both heaven and earth, 
 And ere a mm hath power to say, — Behold! 
 The jaws of darkness do devour'it up: 
 So quick bright things come to confusion. 
 
 Yer. If tli'Mi true lovers have been ever cross'd, 
 I Wickrd. ^ OiTp. bestow, 
 
 s Momentary, * Black. 
 
 It stands as an edict in destiny : 
 
 Then let us teach our inal paUence, 
 
 Because it is a customary cross; 
 
 As due to love, as thon^lits, and dreams, and sighs, 
 
 Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's' followers. 
 
 Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, 
 Hermia. 
 I have a widnw aunt, a dowager 
 Of great revenue, and she hath no child: 
 From Athens is tier house remote seven leagues; 
 And she respects mc as her only son. 
 There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; 
 And to that place the sharp Athenian law 
 Cannot pursue us: If thou lov'st me then. 
 Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; 
 And in the wood, a league withnut the town, 
 Where I did meet thee once with Helena, 
 To do observance to a morn of May, 
 There will I stay for thee. 
 
 Her. My good Lysander! 
 
 I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow; 
 By his best arrow with the golden head; 
 By the simplicity of Venu.s' doves; 
 Hy That which knitteth souls, and prospers loves; 
 And by that fne which burn'd the Carthage queen, 
 When the false Trojan under sad was seen ; 
 By all the vows that ever men have broke. 
 In number more than ever woman spoke ; — 
 In that same place thou hast appointed me, 
 To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 
 
 Lys. Keep promise, love; Look, here comes 
 Helena. 
 
 £H/er Helexa. 
 
 Her, God speed lair Helena ! Whither away] 
 
 Hel. Call you me fair] that fair again unsay. 
 Demetrius loves you fair: O happy fair ! 
 Your eyes arc lode-stars ;b and your tongue's sweet 
 
 air 
 More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear. 
 When wheat is i;reen, when hawthorn buds appear. 
 Sickness is catching; O, were favor' so! 
 Yours would I cutcJi, fair Hermia, ere I go; 
 My car should catcli your voice, my eye your eye, 
 i\f y tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. 
 Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, 
 The rest III give to be to you translated. 
 O, teach me liow you look ; and with what art 
 You sway the motion of Demetrius" heart. 
 
 H'r. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. 
 
 Hel. 0, that your frowns would teach my smiles 
 such skill ! 
 
 Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. 
 
 HeL O, that my prayers could such affection 
 move ! 
 
 Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. 
 
 HeL The more I love, the more he hateth me. 
 
 Hfr. His folly, Helena, is no lault of mine. 
 
 HcL None, butyour beauty ;'Would that fault 
 were mine ! 
 
 Her. Take comfort ; he no more shall see my face, 
 Lysander and myself will tly this place. — 
 Before the time I did Lysander see, 
 Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: 
 O then, what graces in my love do dwell, 
 That lie hath turn'd a heaven unto hell! 
 
 LtjS. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold, 
 To-iuorrow night when Phcebe doth behold 
 Her silver visage in the wat'ry irla.ss. 
 Decking with liquid pearl the bhded grass. 
 (A time that lovers' Inghts doth still conceal,) 
 Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. 
 
 Her. And in the wood, where often you and I 
 Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, 
 KmptyiniC our bosoms of their counsel sweet; 
 There my Lysander and myself shall meet: 
 And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes. 
 To seek new friends and stranger companies. 
 Farewoli. sweet play-fellow; pray thou for us, 
 And good luck urant thee tliy Demetrius! 
 Keep word, Lysander: we ?nnst starve our sight 
 From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnii^ht, 
 
 \Erif Hkhm. 
 
 Lys. I will, my Hermia — Helena, adimi : 
 As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! \ErU Lys. 
 
 Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be! 
 Throuu'h Athens I am thoui;ht as fair as she. 
 But what of that ] Demetrius thinks not so ; 
 
 » Love's. 
 
 1 Pole stars. 
 
 i Countenance. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 121 
 
 He will not know wliat all but he do know. 
 
 And as lie errs, doliii,:; on Hermia'd eyes, 
 
 So I, admirinfi; of liis quulitics. 
 
 Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
 
 Love can transpose to form and dignity. 
 
 Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; 
 
 And therefore is win^'d (Jupid painted blind. 
 
 Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste ; 
 
 Win^is, and no eyes, fiirurc unhecdy haste: 
 
 And therefore is Love said to be a child, 
 
 liecause in choice he is so oft beguil'd. 
 
 As wag2:ish boys in game' themselves forswear, 
 
 So the boy Love is periut'd every where : 
 
 Kor ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne.^ 
 
 He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine : 
 
 And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
 
 So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt 
 
 I will go tell iiim of fair Hcrmia's tlight; 
 
 Then to the wood wdl he, to-morrow night, 
 
 pursue her; and for this intelligence 
 
 If I liave thanks, it is a dear expence: 
 
 But herein mean I to enrich my pain, 
 
 To have his sight thither, and back again. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE n. — The same. A Room in a Cottage* 
 
 Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, 
 
 and Stakveling, 
 
 Quin. Is all our comjiany here? 
 
 li'it. You were best ti) call them generally, man 
 by man, according to tlie srrip. 
 
 Qtiin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, 
 which is thought tit. throujih all Athens, to play in 
 our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his 
 wedding-day at ni^ht. 
 
 But. First, good Peter Quince, say what the 
 play treats on ; tlicn read the names of the actors; 
 and so grow to a point. 
 
 Quilt. Marry, our ploy is — The most lamentable 
 comedy, and most cruel death of Pyranius and 
 Thisby. 
 
 Bof. A very good piece of work, I assure you, 
 and a merry. — Now, t:ood Peter Quince, call forth 
 your actors by the scroll : Masters, spread yourselves. 
 
 Quin. Answer, as 1 call you. — Nick Bottom, 
 tile weaver. 
 
 Bi>(. Ready: Name what part I am for, and 
 proceed. 
 
 Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py- 
 ranius. 
 
 Bnt. What is Py ramus f a lover, or a tyrant. 
 
 Quiu. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly 
 for love. 
 
 Bof. That will ask some tears in the true per- 
 forming of it: If 1 do it, let the audience look to 
 their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in 
 seme measure. To the rest: — Yet my chief hu- 
 ntor is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or 
 a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. 
 "The Mging rocks, 
 "With shivering shocks, 
 "Shall break the locks 
 
 "Of prison gates: 
 "And Fhibhn-i' car 
 "Shall shine from far, 
 "And m ike ;ind mar 
 "The tonlish fiti's."' 
 This was lofty — Now name tlie rest of the players. 
 — This is Krcles' vcm, a tyrant's vein: a lover is 
 more condoling. 
 
 Quin, Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. 
 
 Flu. Here, Peter (Quince. 
 
 Quill. You must take Thisby on you. 
 
 Fiu. What is This'jy'] a wandering knight'? 
 
 Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. 
 
 Flu. Nay. faith, let me not play a woman; I 
 have a beard coming. 
 
 Quill. That's all cue; you shall play it in a mask, 
 and you may speak as small as you will. 
 
 Buf. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby 
 too : ril speak in a monstrous little voice ; — Thisue, 
 Thl'ine. — Ah, Pi/ramus, my lover dear,- thy Thisby 
 dear : nnd lady dear / 
 
 Quin- No, no: you must play PjTamus, and, 
 Flute you Thisby. 
 
 But. Well, proceed. 
 
 Quia Robin Starveling, the tailor. 
 
 Starv. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Quin. Robin Starvehuir, you must playThisby's 
 mother. — Tom Snout, the tinker. 
 
 Suouf. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Quiu. You, Pyramuss father; myself Thisby's 
 father; — Snug, the joiner, you. the lion's part; — 
 and, I hope, here is a play fitted. 
 
 SnufT, Have you the lion's part written 7 pray 
 you, if it be. give it me, for I am slow of ^,tudy. 
 
 Quill. You may doit extempore, for it is nothing 
 but roaring. 
 
 Bof. Let me play the lion too : I will roar, that 
 I will do any tnan's heurt good to hear me; I will 
 roar, that I will make the duke say ^ Let hint roar 
 again. Let him roar again. 
 
 Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you 
 would fright the duchess and the ladies, that tney 
 would shriek : and that were enough to liang us all. 
 
 A/t. That would haivz us every mother'sson. 
 
 Bnt. I ^r.-int you, friends, if that you should 
 fright the hidicsout of their wits, they would have 
 no more discretion but to hangns: but I will ag- 
 gravate my voice so, that I wilt roar you as gently 
 as any sucking dove; I will roar you an> 'twere 
 any nightingale. 
 
 Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; for 
 Pyra^iius is a sweet-ficed man; a proper man, as 
 one sh;i!l see in a summer's day: a most lovely, 
 gentlctnan-Uke man; therefore you must needs 
 play Pyramus. 
 
 Bof. Well, I will undertake it. What beard 
 were I best to play it inl 
 
 Quin. Why, what you will. 
 
 Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw- 
 colored beard, your orange-tawny beard, your 
 nurple-in-grain beard, or your French-croWn-colcr 
 beard, your perfect yellow. 
 
 Quin. Same of your French crowns have no 
 hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. — 
 But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to 
 entreat you, request you, and desire you. to con 
 them by to-morrow nijiht; and meet me in the 
 palace wood, a mile without the tovtm, by moon- 
 light; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in 
 the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our 
 devices know. In the mean lime. I will draw a 
 bill of properties,-! such as ourplay wants. 1 pray 
 you. tad me not. 
 
 Bof. We will meet; and there we ma^ rehearse 
 more obscenely, and courageously, i ake pains ; 
 be perfect; adieu. 
 
 Quia. At the dukes oak we meet. 
 
 B'jI. Enough: Hold, or cut bow-string.' 
 
 [Exetmt. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCEXE I.— .4 Wmd near Athens. 
 Enter a Fairy ul one door, and Puck at cmolhcr. 
 
 Puck. How ninv, spirit ! whither wander you 1 
 Fai, Over Iiill, over ilalt\ 
 
 Thorough bush, tliorough briar, 
 Over park, over jiale. 
 Thoroir^h llo.Hi. -horongh fire, 
 I do wander every where, 
 
 ■ Sport. » Eyes. 
 
 Swifter llian the moone's sphere; 
 
 And I serve the I'airy queen. 
 
 To dew her orhs* upon tlie green : 
 
 The cowslips tall lier pensioners be; 
 
 In their gold coats spots you see; 
 
 Those be rubies, fjiiry favors, • 
 
 In those freckles live their savors: 
 I must go seek some dew-drops liere. 
 And hnng a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 
 
 i As if. ^Articles required in performiDg a play. 
 
 a At all events. * Circles. 
 
122 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Farewell, thou loh' of spirits, I'll be gone; 
 Our queen and all her elves come here anon. 
 
 Puck. The kini doth keep his revels hereto-night. 
 Take heel, the queen come not within his sight, 
 For Oberon is passing fell and wrath. 
 Because that she, as her atteudajit, hath 
 A lovely boy, stoi'n from an Indian king; 
 She never had so sweet a chan.^eling ; 
 Andjealous Oberon would have the child 
 Knight of his train, to trace the forest wild: 
 But she, perforce, withlioids the loved boy. 
 Crowns iiim wi tli flowers, and makes hi ni all her joy : 
 And now they never meet in groves, or green, 
 By fountains clear, or spangled star-light sheen," 
 But tliey do square;' that all tlieir elve.?, fur fear, 
 Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there, 
 
 Fai Either I mistake your shape and making 
 quite, 
 Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite; 
 Call'd Robin Goodfellow : are you not he, 
 That fright the raaideiis of the villagery ; 
 Skim milk; and sometimes labor in the quern,' 
 And bootless make the breathless housewife chum ; 
 And sometimes make tlie drink to liearno barm;' 
 Misle.id night-wanderera, laughing at their harm? 
 Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, 
 You do their work, and they sh;ill have good luck : 
 Are not you hel . 
 
 Puck. Thou speak'st aright; 
 
 I am that merry waitderer of the night. 
 I jest to Oberon, and make liim smile. 
 When I a fut and bean-fed horse beguile, 
 Neighing in likeness of a silly foal : 
 And sometime lurk I in a gossips bowl, 
 In very likeness of a roasted crab;' 
 And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, 
 And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. 
 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale. 
 Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; 
 Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 
 And tailor cries, and firlls into a cough; 
 And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe; 
 And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 
 A merrier hour was never wasted there. — 
 But room, fairy, here comes (Iberon. 
 
 Fai. And here my mi.stress :— 'Would that he 
 were gone ! 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter OnEnox, ut one door, ivilh his train, and 
 
 TiTANiA, ut another, with hers. 
 
 Oie. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. 
 
 Tita. What, jealous f Iberon? Fairy, skip hence; 
 I have forsworn his bed and company. 
 
 06c Tarry, rash wanton : Am not I thy lord ! 
 
 Tita. Then I must be thy lady: But 1 know 
 When thou hast stoi'n away from fairy land. 
 And in the shape of Corin sat all day. 
 Playing on pipes of corn, and versing' love 
 To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here. 
 Come from the farthest steep of India 1 
 But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 
 Your buskin'd mistress, and your warrior love. 
 To Theseus must be wedded ; and you come 
 To give their bed joy and prosperity. 
 
 Ohe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, 
 Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, 
 Knowing I know thy love to Theseus 1 
 Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering 
 
 night, 
 From Perigenia, whom he ravished ! 
 And make him with fair iEgl« break his faith. 
 With Ariaine, and Antiopa? 
 
 Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : 
 And never since the middle summer's spring. 
 Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead. 
 By p,aved fountain, or by rushy brook. 
 Or on the beach'd margent of the sea. 
 To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
 But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 
 Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain. 
 As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea 
 ContagWus fogs ; which falling in the land, 
 Have every pelting' river made so proud. 
 That they have overborne their continents:' 
 
 > A tprrn of onntc-mpt, « Shining. ' Quarrel. 
 
 e Mill. » Yi'aat. ' Wild apple. 
 
 • Pitty. ^ Banks which contain them 
 
 The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain. 
 
 The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green com 
 
 Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a bearti: 
 
 The fold stands empty in the drowned field, 
 
 And crows are fatted with the murrain tlock; 
 
 The nine men's morris* is till'd up with mud ; 
 
 And the quaint mazes in the wanton green. 
 
 For lack of tread, are undistinguishable: 
 
 The human mortals want their winter here ; 
 
 No night is now with hymn or carol blest : — 
 
 Therefore the moon, the governess of floods. 
 
 Pale in her anger, washes all the air. 
 
 That rheumatic diseases do abound: 
 
 And through this temperature, we see 
 
 The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts 
 
 Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; 
 
 And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown. 
 
 An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
 
 Is. as in mockery, .set: The spring, the sumiue 
 
 The childing' autumn, angry winter, change 
 
 Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world, 
 
 By their increase, now knows not which is which: 
 
 And this same progeny of evils comes 
 
 From our debate, from our dissension; 
 
 We are their parents and original. 
 
 Obe. Do you amend it then : it lies in you : 
 Why should Titania cross her (iberonl 
 I do but beg a little changeling boy, 
 To be my henclnnan.fi 
 
 Tita. Set your heart at rest. 
 
 The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
 His mother was a vot'ress of my order: 
 ,A.nd, in the spiced Indian air, by night 
 Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; 
 .\nd sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands. 
 Marking the embarked traders on the flood; 
 When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive. 
 And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind : 
 Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait 
 (Following her womb, then rich with my young 
 
 'squire,) 
 Would imitate; and sail upon the land, 
 To fetch me trifles, and return again, 
 .\s from a voyage, rich with merchandise. 
 But she, being mortal, of that boy did die ; 
 And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy; 
 And, for her sake, I will not part with him. 
 
 O'jf. How long within this wood intend you stay t 
 
 Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus' wedding-day. 
 If yon will patiently dance in our round, 
 A ml see our moonlight revels, go with us ; 
 If not. shun me, and I will spare your haunts. 
 
 O'le. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. 
 
 Tilu. Not for thy kingdom. — Fairies, away : 
 We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. 
 
 [Exennt Titasia, and her train. 
 
 Obe. Well, go thy way : thou shalt not from this 
 grove, 
 Till I torment thee for this iniun'.— 
 My gentle Puck, come hither: Thou remember'st 
 Since once I sat upon a promontory. 
 And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back, 
 nitering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song; 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
 To hear the sea-maid's music. 
 
 Puck. I remember. 
 
 O'le. That very time I saw, but thou could'st not. 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
 Cupid all arm'd : A certain aim he took 
 A t a fair vestal, throned by the vvest ; 
 And loos'd lii.s Iove-.shaft. smartly from his how. 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts: 
 But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
 Queuch'd in the chaste beams of the watry moon; 
 And the imperial votress pass'd on, 
 In maiden meditation, fancv-free. 
 Yel mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: 
 It fell upon a little western flower, — 
 Beiore, milk-white ; now purple with love's wound- 
 And maidens call it love-in-idleness. 
 Fetch me that flower; the herb I sliow'd thee once ■ 
 The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid, 
 Will'make or man or woman madly dote 
 tlpon the next live creature that it sees. 
 Fetch me this herb: and be thou here again. 
 Ere the Leviathan can swim a league. 
 
 * Holes niado for a game played hy boys. 
 
 1 Autumn produciog flowers unseasonably. « Pago. 
 
SCEXE III. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 123 
 
 PucJ\'. I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
 In forty minutes. [Exit Puck 
 
 Obe. Hnvin^ once this juice, 
 
 ril watch Titania when she is asleep, 
 And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: 
 The next tiling then she waking;: looks upon, 
 (Be it oii lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, 
 On meddlin:^ monkey, or on busy ape,) 
 She shill pursue it with the soul of love. 
 And ere I take this charm otTfrom her sight, 
 (As I can take it with anotlier herb.) ■ 
 I il make her render up her pa^e to nic. 
 But who comes here \ I am invisible; 
 And I witt overhear their conference. • 
 
 Enter Dkmetuius, M^'lzs a. following him. 
 
 Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue rae not. 
 Where is Lysander, and lair Hermia ! 
 The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. 
 Thou told'st me they were stolen into this wood, 
 And here am I, and wood"" within this wood, 
 Because T cannot meet witli Hermia. 
 Hence, ijet thee e;one, and follow me no more. 
 
 Hel. You draw me, yon hard-hearted adamant; 
 But yet you draw not n-on, for my heart 
 Is true as steel : Leave yon your power to draw, 
 And I shall have no power to follow you. 
 
 D^fu. Do I entice you ? Do I speak you fair ? 
 Or ratiier, do I not in plainest truth 
 Tell you — I do not, nor I cannot love you? 
 
 Hf'!. And even for that do I love you the more. 
 I am your spaniel : and, Demetrius, 
 The more you beat me, I will fawn on you : 
 U.^e me but as your spaniel, spurn nie, strike me, 
 Neglect me, lose me ; only give me leave, 
 Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 
 What worser place can I be^ in your lovej 
 (And yet a place of hii^h respect with me,) 
 Than to be used as you use your do^ ] 
 
 Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred oC my 
 spirit; 
 For I am sick, when I do look on thee. 
 
 Het. And 1 am sick when I look not on you. 
 
 Dera. You do impeach' your modesty too much, 
 To leave the city, and com-nit yourself 
 Into the hands of one that loves you not ; 
 To trust the opportunity of ni^ht. 
 And the ill counsel oi a desert place. 
 With the rich worth of your virginity. 
 
 tiel. Your virtue is my privdege for that. 
 It is not night, when I do see your t\ic.e^ 
 Therefore I think I am not in the night : 
 Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company; 
 For you, in my respect, are all the world: 
 Then how can it be said, I am a!one, 
 When all the world is here to look on me"? 
 
 Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide mo in tlie 
 brakes. 
 And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 
 
 He!. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. 
 Run when you will, the story shall be chang'd; 
 Apollo tliesiand Daphne holds the chase; 
 ■The dove pursues the grilTiii; tlie mild hind 
 Makes speed to catcli the tiger: Bootless speed ! 
 When cowardice pursues, and valor flies. 
 
 Dcm. I will not stay thy questions: let me go: 
 Or, if tliou follow mn, 'do not believe 
 But I shall do thee nvschief in the wood. 
 
 Hef. Ay, in the teniple, in liie town, the field. 
 You do me mischief. Fye, Demetrius! 
 Your wrongs do set a snandal on my sex ! 
 We cannot fight for love, as men may do ; 
 We slmuld be woo'd, and were not made to woo. 
 Ill follow thee, and maVe a heaven of hell, 
 To die upon" the hand I love so welt. 
 
 [Exeunt Dv.^.andl^y.^.. 
 
 0'>e. Fare t!ie well, nymph: ere he do leave 
 this grovp, 
 Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. — 
 
 Re-enter PticK. 
 Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. 
 
 Puck. Ay, there it is. 
 
 Obe. I pray thee, give it me, 
 
 I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows. 
 Where ox-lips^ and thf> nodding violet grows; 
 Quite over-canopied with lusii"* woodbine, 
 With sweet musk-roses, and witti eglantine : 
 T Ravinir ma^l. fl Bring in queation. » By. 
 
 I The greater cowslip. ^ Vigorous. 
 
 There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, 
 Lulld in these flowers with dances and delie:ht. 
 And there the snake throws her enamelfd skin, 
 Weed wide enough to wrap a fiiry in : 
 And with the jun-c of this 111 streak her eyes 
 And make her lull of hateful fantasies, 
 lake Ihou some of it, and seek through this grove: 
 A s.veet Athenian lady is in love 
 With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; 
 But do it, when the next thing he espies 
 I\Iay be the lady: Thou shalt know the man 
 By the Athenian garments he hath on. 
 KtTect it with some care ; that he may prove 
 More fond on her. than she upon tier love : 
 And look thou meet me ere tlie tirst cock crow ; 
 Fuck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do 
 so. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Ul.— Another part of the Wood. 
 
 Enter Titaxia ivith her train. 
 
 Tita. Come, now a roundel.' and a fairy song ; 
 Tlien, for the third part of a minute, hence; 
 Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; 
 Some, war with rear-mice* for their leathern wings. 
 To make my small elves coats; and, some, keep back 
 The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders 
 At our quaint sp rits:* Smg me now asleep ; 
 Then to your olRces, and lei me'rest. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1 Fai. You sp'ilteis7iakes, luith double tongue, 
 Thorn ff hedge-hogs^ be not sen ,- 
 Neiuts,^ and blinl-worms,'' do no wrong ; 
 Come not near our fairy queen 
 Chorus. Philoynel, with melody, 
 
 Sing in our sweet Lutlaby ; 
 LullUy lullu, lullaby ,- lulla, luVa, lullaby : 
 Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, 
 Come our lovely laiy nigh ,* 
 So goo I night, with lullaby. 
 II. 
 ■2 Fai. Weaving spiders come 7iot here ; 
 
 Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence; 
 Beetles black, approach noi near ; 
 Worm, nor snail, do no offence. 
 Chorus. Philomel, with melody, &.c. 
 1 Fai. Hence, away: now all is well: 
 One, aloof, stand sentinel. 
 
 [Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps. 
 
 Enter Oueuos. 
 
 Obe. What thou seest, when thou dost wake, 
 [S(pteez€s thejloivr on Titaxia's eye-lids. 
 Do it for thy true lo\»e take; 
 Love and languish for his sake : 
 Be it ounce.' or cat, or bear, 
 Pard, or boar with bristled hair, 
 In thy eye that shall appear 
 When thou waksl, it is thy dear ; 
 Wake, when some vile thing is near. [Exit, 
 
 Enter Lvsandf.r and Hermia. 
 
 Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in the 
 wood ; 
 
 And to speak truth, I have forgot our way ; 
 Well rest vis, Hewnia. if you thuik it good. 
 
 And tarry fov the comfort of the day. 
 
 Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you but a bed. 
 For I upon this bank will rest my head. 
 
 Li/s. One turf siiall serve as pillow for us both ; 
 One heart, one bed. two bosoms, and one Irotli. 
 
 H>'r. Nay, ^ool Lysinder ; for my sake, my dear, 
 Lie further oil" yet. do not lie so near. 
 
 Li/*» O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence 
 Love takes the meaning, in love's conference. 
 I mean, that my heart unio yours is knit. 
 So that but one heart wo can make of it: 
 Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; 
 So then, two bosoms, and a single troth. 
 Then, by your side, no bed-room me deny ; 
 For. lying so, Hermia. 1 do not lie. 
 
 Her. Lysander nddlos very prettily: — 
 Now much bcshrew my manners and my pride, 
 I f Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. 
 But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
 
 J A kind of d:incG. « Bats. 'Sports, 
 
 s lifts. 1 Slow-worms. « The small tiger. 
 
124 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Lie further off; in human modesty. 
 Such separation, as, m.iy well be said, 
 Bei-oniei a virtuous bachelor and a maid : 
 So far be distant; and good niiilit, sweet friend : 
 Thv love ne'er alter, till thy sweel life end ! 
 
 Liis. Amen, amen, to that lair prayer, say I ; 
 And then end life, when 1 ejid loyalty ! 
 Here is my bed; sleep ^ive thee all his rest! 
 
 Htr. \Vith h;ilf that wish the wishers eyes be 
 press'd! [They sleep. 
 
 Enter PrcK. 
 
 Pucfi-. Throuijh the forest have I none, 
 But Athenian found I none, 
 On whose eves 1 miuht approve 
 This Hower's force in stirring love. 
 Ni^ht and silence! who is here? 
 Weeds of Athens he doth wear: 
 This is he ray master said, 
 Despised the Athenian maid : 
 And here the maiden, slcepii);; sound, 
 On the dank and dirty ground. 
 Pretty soul ! she durst not lie 
 Near this lack-love, kill-courtesy. 
 Churl, upon thy eyes I throw 
 All the power this charm doth owe :' 
 When thou wak'st, let love forbid 
 Sleep his-seat on thy eye-lid. 
 So awake, when I am jrone ; 
 For I must now to Oberon. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Demetbitjs and Helena, running. 
 
 Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Deh-.etj-ius. 
 
 De?n. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me 
 thus. 
 
 Hel. 0, wilt thou darklingi leave me? do not so. 
 
 Deni. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go. 
 
 [Exit Dkmetiitds. 
 
 He!. 0, 1 am out of breath in this fond chase ! 
 The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 
 Happv is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies; 
 For slie hatli blessed and attractive eyes. 
 How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears : 
 If so, my eyes are oftencr wash'd than hers. 
 No. no, I am as ugly as a bear; 
 For beasts that meet me, run away for fear: 
 Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius 
 Do, as a monster, fiy my presence thus : 
 What wicked and disscinbling glass of mine 
 Made me compare with Hermia s sphery eyne? — 
 But who is here ! — Lysander ! on the ground ! 
 Dead ! or asleep ! I see no blood, no wound : — 
 Ly.sander, if you live, good sir, awake. 
 
 Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet 
 sake, , [IVaking. 
 
 Transparent Helena ! Nature here shows art. 
 That through thy bosL>in makes nie sec thy heart. 
 Where is Demetrius ! (), how tit a word 
 Is that vile name to perish on my sword ! 
 
 HI. Do not say so, Lysander : say not so; 
 What thou-'h he love your Hermia! Lord, what 
 
 though ? 
 Yet Hermia still loves you ; then be content. 
 
 Lis. Content with Hermia ! No; 1 do repent 
 The tedious minutes I with her have spent. 
 Not Hermia, but Helena I love ; 
 Who will not change a raven for a dove 1 
 The will of man is by his reason sway'd ; 
 And reason says you are the worthier maid. 
 Things growing are not ripe until their season ; 
 So I, Deing young, till now ripe not to reason; 
 And touching now the point of human skill, 
 Reason becomes the marshal to my will, 
 And leads me to your eyes ; where I o'erlook 
 Love's stories written in love's richest book. 
 
 Hel. Wherefore was 1 to this keen mockery born ' 
 When at your hands, did I deserve this scorn? 
 Is't not enough, is t not enough, young man, 
 That I did never, no, nor never can. 
 Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, 
 But you must flout my insufficiency ! 
 Good[ troth, you do me wrong, good sooth you do, 
 111 such disdainful manner ine to woo. 
 But fare you well; perforce I must confess, 
 1 thought you lord of more true gentleness. 
 O, that a lady, of one man refus'd, 
 Should of another, therefore, be abused ! [Exit. 
 
 Lys. She sees not Hermia:— Hermia, sleep thou 
 there; 
 And never mayst thou come Lysander near! 
 For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things 
 The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ; 
 Or, as the heresies that men do leave. 
 Axe hated most of those they did deceive; 
 So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, 
 Of all be hated ; but the most of me ! 
 And all my powers, address your love and might. 
 To honor Helen, and to he her knight! [E.vi'. 
 
 Her. [Starting.] Help me, Lysander ! help me ! 
 do thy best. 
 To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! 
 Ah me, for pity ! — what a dream was here ? 
 Lysander, look, how I do quake with fear ! 
 Methouglit a serpent eat my heart away. 
 And you sat smiling at his cruel prey ; — 
 Lysander ! what, removed ? Lysander ! lord ! 
 What, out of hearing? gone,? no sound, no word ? 
 Alack, where are you 1 speak, an if you hear ; 
 Speak, of all loves;' I swoon almost with fear. 
 No ? — then I well perceive you are not nigh : 
 Either death, or you, I'll find numediately. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— The same. The Queen of Fairies 
 
 lying asleep. 
 
 Enter Quisce, Sxug, BoTToiiy^LUTE, Snout, 
 
 and StauvklisB. 
 
 Bot. Are we all met? 
 
 Quin. Pat. pat; and here's a marvellous conve- 
 nient place for our rehearsal ; This green plot shall 
 be our stage, this hawthorn brake, our tyring-house ; 
 and we will do it in action, as we will do it before 
 the duke. 
 
 Bnl. Peter Quince,— 
 
 Quin. What say'i.t thou, bully Bottom? 
 
 Bnt. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus 
 and TIdsbii, that will never please. First, Pyramus 
 must dravp a sword to kill himself; which the ladies 
 cannot abide. How answer you that? 
 
 Sniiuf. By'riakin,'" a parlous fear. 
 
 Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, 
 when all is done. 
 
 But. Not a whit; I have a device to make all 
 well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue 
 seem to say, we will do no liarin with our swords; 
 and that Pyramus is not killed indeed ; and for the 
 more better assurance, tell Ihein, that I, Pyjamus, 
 B Possess. ' In the dark. ^ By our hulykin 
 
 am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver ; This 
 will put them out of fear. 
 
 Qum. Well, we will have such a prologue ; and 
 it shnll be written m eight and six. 
 
 But. No. make it two more ; let it he written in 
 eight and eiirht. 
 
 Siiiiiit. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ? 
 
 Star. I fear it, I promise you. 
 
 But. Masters, you ought to consider with your- 
 selves: to bring in, God shield ns! a lion among 
 ladies, IS a most dreadful thing ; for there is not a 
 more fearful wild-fowl than your lion, living; and 
 we ought to look to it. 
 
 Sn(mt. Therefore, another prologue must tell, 
 he is not a lion. , , i^,, ■ 
 
 Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and hall bis 
 face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he 
 himself must speak throush, saying thus, or to the 
 same defect.— Ladies, or fair ladics.I would wish 
 vou, or I would request you, or, I would entreat 
 vou, not to fear, not to tremble : my life for your.«. 
 If vou think I come hither as a lion, it were pity 
 of iny life; No, I am no such thing ; 1 am a man 
 as other men are: — and there, indeed, let him 
 * By all that is dear. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 125 
 
 name liis name; and tell them plainly, he is Snug 
 the joiner. 
 
 Qui/>. Well, it shall bn so. But there is two hard 
 things; that !s, to !irm-.< the moon-liirtituito a cham- 
 ber : for you know, Pyramus and I'liishy meet by 
 moon-Iif^ht. 
 
 S/iu^, Uoth tlie moon sliine, lliat night we play 
 our play ] 
 
 But' A calendar, a calendar ! look in the alma- 
 nic; find out moonshine, lind out moonsliine. 
 
 Quia. Yes, it doih shme that riiglit. • 
 
 But. Why, tlien you m.iy leave a casement of the 
 irreat chamLtcr window, wiierc we play, open; and 
 the moon may shme in at the c.isemenl. 
 
 Qitiii. .-Vy ; or else one must come in with a bush 
 of thornt and a lantiiorn, and say. he comes to dis- 
 trgure, o * to present, tiio person of moon-shine. 
 Then, there is another thin^ : we must have a wall 
 in the great chamber ; for Hyr.imus and Thisby, says 
 the story, did talk througli the chinks of a wall. 
 
 Unug' You never can bring in a wall. — What 
 say you. Bottom 1 
 
 But. Some man or other must i>resent wall: and 
 let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some 
 rough-cast about hmi, to signify wall; or let him 
 hold his lingers ttius, and tluough that cranny shall 
 Pj ramus and Tlhsby whisper. 
 
 Quia. If that may be. tlieii all is well. Come, sit 
 down, every mother s son, and reiiearse your parts. 
 Pyramus, you hegm : when you have spoken your 
 speech, enter into that brake ;* and so every one 
 according to his cue. 
 
 Enter Puck behind. 
 
 Puck. What hempen liome-spuns have we swa^-- 
 gering here, * 
 
 So near the cradle of the fairy queen 1 
 What, a play toward ! 1 II be an auditor; 
 An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. 
 
 Quill. Speak, Pyramus: — Thisby, stand forth. 
 
 Pyr. Tliuiby. Ilit flowers of odious savors sweet — 
 
 Quin. Odors, odors. 
 
 Pyr. odors savnrs siveet: 
 
 Su dotli t/iij breutti, rni/ dearest Thisby dear.— 
 But, hurl;, a voice ! stai/ tlvm hut here awhile, 
 
 And by and by I will to tliee appear. [Exit. 
 
 Pucli. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here! 
 [Aside. — Exit. 
 
 Tills. Must I speak now ? 
 
 Quin. Ay, marry, must you : for you must un- 
 derstand, he goes but to see a noise that he heard 
 and is to come again. ' 
 
 This. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-iuhlte 
 of hue. 
 
 Of color likethered rose on triumphant brier. 
 Must briskly Juvenal,'' and eke most lovely Jew, 
 
 As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire, 
 I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. 
 
 Quin. Nipus's tomb, man: Why you must not 
 speak that 5'et ; that you answer to I'vramus: yon 
 speak all your part at once, cues' anil all. — Pyra- 
 mus, enter; your cue is past ; it is, never tire. 
 
 Re-enter Puck and Bottom with an Ass's head. 
 
 Tills. O.— As true as truest horse, that yet 
 
 ivoutd. never tire. 
 PyT. If I were fair, Thi-ihy, I were only thine .— 
 Quin. monstrous ! o strange ! we are haunted. 
 Pray, masters ! Ily, masters ! hcip ! 
 
 ^ , [Exeunt Clowns. 
 
 Puck. I'll follow vou.III lead you about around. 
 Through bog, through bush, through brake, 
 through brier; 
 Sometime a horse I'll he, sometime a liound, 
 A hog, a headless be.ir, sometime a Hre; 
 And neigh, and )ark, and grunt, and roar, and bum. 
 Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. 
 
 Bof. Why do they run away? this is a knavery 
 of tbem. to make mfc afeard. 
 
 Re-enter Snout. 
 
 Snout. Bottom, thou art changed! vi'hat do I 
 see on thee? 
 
 Bot. What do you sec? you see an ass's head 
 of your own ; Do you 1 
 
 * Thicket. B Young man. 
 
 6 The last words of the preceding speech, which serve 
 as a bint to him who is to speak next. 
 
 Ri-entir Quince. 
 
 Quin. Bless thee. Bottom! bless thee! thou art 
 
 translated. [E.vit, 
 
 Bot. I sec their knavery : this is to make an ass 
 
 of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not 
 
 stir IVom tins place, do what they can; I will walk 
 
 up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall 
 
 hear I am not afraid. \ Sin^^s. 
 
 The ousel cock, so black of hue, 
 
 With orange-lawny bill, 
 The tlirosl e with his note so tjite, 
 TIte wren ivilh little quill. 
 Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery 
 bed '! [ Waking. 
 
 Bot The finch, the sparrow, and ike lark, 
 The plain-sons cuckoo grey, 
 Jl'hose Jiotefutl many a man doth mark, 
 Ami dares nut answer, nay; — 
 
 or, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a 
 bird] who would give a bird the lie, though he cry, 
 cuckoo, never so '! 
 
 Till!. 1 pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : 
 .Mine car is much enamor'd of thy note. 
 So is mine eye enthrall d to thy shape; 
 And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, 
 On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. 
 
 Bot. iMethink.s, mistress, you should have little 
 reason fur that; And yet, to say the truth, reason 
 and love keep little company together novv-a-days: 
 The more the pity, that some honest neighbors 
 will not make them friends. Jiay, I can gleek' upon 
 occasion. 
 
 Tila. Thou art as wise as tliou art beautiful. 
 
 But. Not so, neither: but if I had wit cnouih to 
 get out of this wood, i have enough to serve mine 
 own turn. 
 
 Titu. ( lut of this wood do not desire to go ; 
 Thou shall remain here, whether thou wilt or no. 
 I am a spirit of no common rate : 
 The summer still doth tend upon my state, 
 And I do love thee : therefore, go with me ; 
 I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee ; 
 And they sliall fetch thee jewels from the deep. 
 And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep ; 
 And I will jiurgc thy mortal grossness su. 
 That Ihou shalt like an airy spirit go. — 
 Peas-blus-som ! Cobweb ! Motti ! and Mustard-seed! 
 
 Enter four Fairies. 
 
 1 Fau Ready. 
 
 2 Fui. And I. 
 
 3 Fai. And I. 
 
 4 Fai. Where shall v\'e go 7 
 Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; 
 
 Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; 
 Feed him with apricocks and dewberries. 
 With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; 
 The honey hags stealfrom tlie humble-bees. 
 And, for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs, 
 And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
 To have my love to bed, and to arise; 
 And pluck the wings from painted butterflies. 
 To fan the moonbeams from Ins sleeping eyes: 
 Nod tn hini, ehes, and do hiui courtesies. 
 
 1 Fai. I lad mortal! 
 
 2 Fai. Hail! 
 
 3 Fui. Hail! _^ 
 
 4 Fai. Hail! ▼ 
 
 Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. — I 
 beseech your worship's name I 
 
 Cob. Cobweb. 
 
 Bid. I sluUi desire you of more acquaintance, 
 good master Cobweb: If I cut my finger, I shall 
 make bold with you. — Your name, honest gentle- 
 man ! 
 
 Peas. Peas-blo.ssom. 
 
 Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, 
 your mother, and to master Peascod, your lather. 
 Good master Peius-blossom, I shall desire you of more 
 acquaiiitanee too. — Your name, I beseech j'ou, sir i 
 
 mus. Mustard-seed. 
 
 But. Good master Mustnrd-seed, I know your 
 patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox- 
 beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your 
 house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my 
 eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaint- 
 ance, good master Mustard-seed. 
 
 'Tita. Come wait upon him ; lead him to my lower. 
 1 J ike. 
 
12G 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT-S DREAM. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye; 
 And when she weeps, weeps every httle dower, 
 Lamenting some enforced chastity. 
 Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. 
 
 [Exeuni. 
 SCENE 11.— Another part if Ike IVool. 
 Kntf-r OBEnoy. 
 O'le. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd ; 
 Then, what it was that next cam,; in her eye, 
 Wliich she must dote on in extremity. 
 
 Enter Puck. 
 
 Here comes mymassens^cr. — How now, mad spirit? 
 What ni-;ht-ruie now about tliis haunted grove ? 
 
 Puck. My mistress with a monster is iu love. 
 Near to her close and consecrated bower, 
 Whde she was in her iluli and sleeping hour, 
 A crew of patches,' rude mechanicals, 
 That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, 
 Wei-e met together to reliearse a play. 
 Intended for great Theseus' nuptual day. 
 Tlie shallowest thick-skiu of that barren sort. 
 Who Pyramus presented, in their sport 
 Forsook his scene, and enter'd in a brake ; 
 Wlien I did liim at this advantage take. 
 An asss nowl I fixed on his head ; 
 Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, 
 Ami forth my mimic comes: When they him spy. 
 As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 
 Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, 
 Rising and cawing at tile gun's report 
 Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky ; 
 So, at his sight, away his fellows fly ; 
 And, at our stamp, here o er and o'er one falls; 
 He murder cries, and iielp from Athens calls. 
 Their sense thus weak, lost with their tears thus 
 
 strong, 
 Made senseless things begin to do them wrong: 
 For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; 
 Some, sleeves ; some, hats: from yielders all things 
 
 catch. 
 I Ie<l tlicm on in this distracted fear, 
 And left sweet Pyramus translated there: 
 When in that moment, (so it came to pass,) 
 Titania wak'd, and .straightway lovd an ass. 
 
 OV. This falls out better than I could devise. 
 But hast thou yet latch'd' the Athenian's eyes 
 With tlie love-juice, as 1 did bid thee do? 
 
 Puck. I took him sleeping,— that is finish'd too,— 
 And the .\thenian woman by his side; 
 That, when he wak'd, of force she must be eyd. 
 
 Eater DEMETnirs and Hermia. 
 
 O'le. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. 
 
 Puck. This is the wonun, but not this the man. 
 
 Dsn. f 1, why rebuke 50U him that loves you so ? 
 J,av breath so bitter on your bitter foe. 
 
 K-r. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse; 
 For thou.I fear, h.ast given me cause to curse. 
 If thou hast slain Lvsander in his sleep, 
 liehii o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep. 
 And kill me too. 
 
 The sun was not so true unto the day. 
 As he to me : Would lie have stol'n away 
 From sleeping Hermia? 1 II believe as soon, 
 This ivhole earth may he bor'd; iu^1 that the moon 
 May through the centre creep, antrso displease 
 Her brother's noontide with the antipodes. 
 It cannit he but thou hast murder d him ; 
 So should a murderer look; so dead, so grim. 
 
 Bfni. So should the murder'd look; and so should I. 
 Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelly : 
 'i'et you. the murderer, look as bright, as clear, 
 As vonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 
 
 H'r. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? 
 Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ? 
 
 D'ui. 1 had rather jive his carcase to my hounds. 
 
 Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st mc past 
 the bounds 
 Of maiden patience. Hast thou slain him then ? 
 Hencelortli be never number'd among men ! 
 O I once tell true, t,d! (rue, even for my sake; 
 Durst thou have look'd upon him. being awake. 
 And hast thou kilfd him sleeping ? brave touch ! 
 Could not a worm, an adder, do so much ? 
 An adder did it ; for with doubler tongue 
 Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. 
 
 a Simple fellows. 
 
 » Infcctea. 
 
 Deni. Vou spend your passion on a mispris'di 
 mood : 
 I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; 
 Nor is he dead, tor aught that I can tell. 
 Her. 1 pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. 
 D.iii. A lid "if I could, what should 1 get therefore ! 
 Her. A privilege, never to see me more. — 
 .\nd from tiiy hated presence part 1 so : 
 See me no more, whether he be dead or no. {Exit. 
 Dent. There is no following her in this fierce vein : 
 Here, fterefore, tor a while I will remain, 
 .^o sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow 
 For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; 
 Which now, in some slight measure, it wdl pay. 
 If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lks dinrn 
 Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken 
 quite. 
 And laid the love-juice on some true love's sight: 
 Of thy misprision must pert'orce ensue 
 Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true. 
 Puck. Then fate o'cr-rules; that, one man hold- 
 ing troth, 
 A million fail, confounding oath on oath. 
 
 O'le. About the wood go swifter than the wind, 
 .\nd Helena of Athens look thou find : 
 .\11 fancj'-sick' she is, and pale of cheer," 
 With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear: 
 ISv some illusion see thou bring lier here ; 
 I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear. 
 
 Puck. I go, I go ; look how I go ; 
 Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Exit 
 Obe. Flower of this purple die. 
 Hit with Cupid's archery. 
 Sink in apple of his eye! 
 When his love he doth espy. 
 Let her shine as gloriously 
 As the Venus of the sky. — 
 When thou wak'st, if she be by, 
 Beg of her for remedy. 
 
 Re-enter Puck. 
 
 Puck. Captain of our fairy band, 
 Helena is here at hand ; 
 And the youth, mistook by me. 
 Pleading for a lover's fee ; 
 Shall we their fond pageant sec? 
 O, what fools these mortals be! 
 
 Obe. Stand aside : the noise they make. 
 Will cause Demetrius to awake. 
 
 Puck, riicn will two at once, woo one; 
 That must needs be sport alone ; 
 And tliose things do best please me. 
 That befal preposterously. 
 
 Eater Ltsasdeti and Helena. 
 
 Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo 
 in scorn ? 
 
 Scorn and derision never come in tears: 
 Look, when I vow, I weep ; and vows sb bom. 
 
 In their nativity all truth appears. 
 How can these things in me seem scorn to you, 
 Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? 
 
 He I. You do advance your cunning more and 
 more. 
 
 When truth kills truth, devilish-holy fray ! 
 These vows are Hermia's: Will yougive hero'er? 
 
 Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing 
 weigh : 
 Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales. 
 Will even weigh; and both as liglit as tales. 
 
 L'/.f. I had no indgment, when to her I swore. 
 
 //•■/. Nor none, in' my mind, now you give her 
 o'er. 
 
 Li/.f. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. 
 
 Dem. [Aivakiiti;.] O Helen, goddess, nymph, 
 perfect divine! 
 To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? 
 Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show 
 rhy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow I 
 That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, 
 Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow, 
 When thou hold'.st up thy hand : O let me kiss 
 This princess of pure wdiite. this seal of bliss! 
 
 Hel. O spitB I O hell ! I sec yon all are bent 
 To set against me, for your merriment. 
 If you were civil, and knew courtesy, 
 Vou would not do me thus much injury. 
 Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
 
 I Mistaken. ' Love-sick. » Countenancfl. 
 
ScE>rE III. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 127 
 
 But you must join, in souls,* to mock me too] 
 
 Ir" you were men, as men you are in show, 
 
 You wauld not use a geiiiio lady so ; 
 
 To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts. 
 
 When. I am sure, you hate me with your hearts, 
 
 You both are rivals, and love Hermia? 
 
 And now both rivals, to mock Helena : 
 
 A trim exploit, a manly enterprise. 
 
 To conjure tears up in a poor maid"s eyes, 
 
 With your dertsioii ! none, of noble sort, 
 
 Would so odend a virgin ; and extort 
 
 A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. 
 
 Li/s. Vou are Udkmd, Demetrius: be not so; 
 For you love Hermia; this, you know, I know: 
 And here, with all good will, with all my heart, 
 In Ktrmia's love I yield you up my part; 
 And yours of Helena to me bequeath. 
 Whom I do love, and will do to my death. 
 
 HcL Never did m takers waste more idle breath. 
 
 De/n. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: 
 If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. 
 My heart with her, but as guest-wise, sojournd ; 
 And now to Helen is it home retufti'd, 
 TJicre to remain. 
 
 Li/s. Helen, it is not so. 
 
 Dein, Disparage not the faith thou dost not know. 
 Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.* — 
 Look, where Iky love comes; yonder is thy dear. 
 
 Enter Hermta. 
 
 Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function 
 takes. 
 The car more quick of apprehension makes ; 
 VV hercm it doth impair the seeing sense, 
 It pays the hearing double recompense: — 
 Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ; 
 Mine ear, I thank it. brought me to thy sound. 
 But wliy unkindly d;dst thou leave me so ? 
 
 Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press 
 to go ? • 
 
 Her. What love could press Lysander from my 
 side] 
 
 L)/s. Lysandefs love, that would not let him bide, 
 Fair Ht'kna: who moreengilds the night 
 Th HI all yon liery oesi and eyes of lii^hl. 
 VShy scekst thou me I could not this make thee 
 
 know, 
 The Iiate I bear thee made me leave thee so ? 
 
 Her. You speak not as you think ; it cannot be. 
 
 He!. Lo, she is one of this confederacy! 
 Now I perceive they have conjoin'd, all tlirce, 
 To fashion this false sport in spite of me. 
 Injurious Hermia: most ungrateful maid ! 
 Have you conspired, have you with these contriv'd 
 To bait me with this foul derision ] 
 Is all the counsel that we two. have shar'd, 
 Tlie sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent. 
 When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
 For parting; us, — (), and is all forgot 1 
 All srhooI-dAys' friendship, childhood innocence? 
 We, Hermia. hke two artiticiah gods. 
 Have witli our neeldsa created both one llowcr, 
 Both on line sampler, sitting on one cushion. 
 Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; 
 As il our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 
 Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted: 
 But yet a un;pn in partition. 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 
 *^o with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 
 Two of the first, like coats in heraldry. 
 Due but to one, and crowned with one crest: 
 And will you rent our ancient love asunder. 
 To join with men in scnrning your poor friend f 
 It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : 
 Our sex. as well as I, may chide you for it ; 
 Though I alone do feel the injury. 
 
 Hjr. I am amazed at your passionate words: 
 I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me. 
 
 H-'L Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn. 
 To follow me, and pra'se my eyes and face 1 
 And made your other love, Demetrius. 
 (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) 
 To call 1X12 goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, 
 Precious, celestiall Wherefore speaks lie this 
 To her he hates 1 and wherefore doth Lysander 
 Denv your love, so rich within his soul, 
 And tender me, forsoath, alfection ; 
 
 • Heartily. • Pay dearly for it. 
 
 6 Ciriles. 1 Ingeniotia. « NccJles. 
 
 But by your setting on, by your consent] 
 Wliat though 1 be not so m ^race as you. 
 So hung upon with love, so lorluiiate; 
 But miserable most, to love unlov'd ] 
 This you sliould p.ty, rather than despise. 
 
 H;r. I understand not what you mean by tliis 
 
 Hel. Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks. 
 Make mows^ ui)on me wht-n I turn my back; 
 Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up: 
 This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. 
 If you have any pity, grace, or manners, 
 You would not make me such an argument. 
 But fare ye well : 'tis partly mine own fault; 
 Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. 
 
 Li/s. Slay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse; 
 My love, my hfe, my soul, fair Helena! 
 
 H^l. O excellent ! 
 
 Her. Sweet, do not scorn her so. 
 
 Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 
 
 L>/s. Thou canst compel no more than she en- 
 treat ; 
 Thy threats have no more strength than her weak 
 
 prayers. — 
 Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do; 
 I swear by that which I will lose for thee. 
 To prove him false, that says I love tliee not. 
 
 Dem. I say, I love theo more than he can do. 
 
 Li/s. Ifthousayso, withdraw, and prove it too. 
 
 D:/n. t^uick, come, — 
 
 Hjr. Lysander, whereto tends all thisl 
 
 L'/s. Away, you Kthiop ! 
 
 D-i/i. No, no, sir: — he wdl 
 
 Seem to break loose ; take on, as you would follow : 
 But yet come not ; you are a tame man, go ! 
 
 Lys. Hang oiT, thou cat, thou burr: vile thing, 
 let loose ; 
 Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent. 
 
 Her. W^hy are you grown so rude! what change 
 is this. 
 Sweet love ! 
 
 L'/.f. Thy love? out, tawny Tartar, out! 
 
 H r. Do you not jest] 
 
 Hi. Yes, 'sooth; and so do you. 
 
 L'/r,. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. 
 
 JJet/i, I would, I had your bond; for, I perceive, 
 A weak bond holds you; 111 not trust your word. 
 
 Lt/s. What, should 1 liurt her, strike her, kill 
 her dead! 
 Although I hate her. I'll not harm her so. 
 
 Htr. What, can you do me greater harm, than 
 hate ! 
 Hate me ! wherefore ' () me ! wliat news, my love ] 
 Am not I Hermia] Are not you Lysander] 
 I am as fair now, as 1 was erewhilc. 
 Since night, you lov'd me, yet, since night you left 
 
 me : 
 Why, then you left, me — 0, the gods forbid! — 
 In earnest, shall 1 say] 
 
 L'/s. Ay, by my life ; 
 
 And never did desire to see thee more. 
 Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt, 
 Be certain, nothing truer; "lis no jest, 
 Tiiat I do hate thee, and love Helena. 
 
 H^r. me ! you juggler! you canker blossom !i 
 You thief of love! what, have you come by night 
 And stol'n my love's heart from him] 
 
 HeL Fine, i'faith! 
 
 Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, 
 No touch of baslifulness] What, will you tear 
 Impaitent answers from my gentle tongue ] 
 Fie. lie ! you counterfeit. >ou puppet you ! 
 
 Htr. Puppet! why so] Ay, that way goes the 
 game. 
 Now I perceive that she hath made compare 
 Between our statures, she hath urgM her height 
 And with her persona-e, her tall personaire, 
 Her height, forsooth, slu- hath prcvail'd with him. — 
 And are you grown so iiigh in his esteem, 
 Hecause I am so dwarfish, and so low ] 
 How low am I. thou panted maypole ] speak; 
 How low am I M am not yet so low. 
 But that my nails can roach unto thine ej'es. 
 
 H:!. I pray you, though you mock me, gentle- 
 men. 
 Let her not hurt me: 1 was never curst ;*» 
 I have no gift at all in shrewishness; 
 I om a right ma'd for my cowardice; 
 Let her not strike me : you. perhaps, may think, 
 
 3 Wry faces. > Aworm that prey* on buds of flowers 
 a Shrewish or miscbic-rous. 
 
12S 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Because shp s somrthing lower t'laii inyself, 
 That I can match her. 
 
 Jier. Lower! hark, ap:ain. 
 
 Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. 
 I evermore did love you, Mcrniia, 
 Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you ; 
 Save, that, in love unto Heinetrius, 
 I told him of your stealth unto Ihis wood: . 
 He followed you ; for love, I followM him : 
 But he hath chid me hence; and thrcaten'd me 
 To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill ine too: 
 And now, so you will let nie quiet ^o, 
 To Athens will I hear my folly back. 
 And follow you no further: Let me ^o: 
 You see how simple and how fund* I am. 
 
 Her. Why. get you gone: Who is't that hinders 
 youl 
 
 Hel. A foolish heart that I leave here behind. 
 
 Her. What, with Lysander? 
 
 Hel. With De;iictrius. 
 
 Lt/s. Be not afraid: she shall not harm thee, 
 Helena. 
 
 Dem. No, sir; slie shall not, tliough you take 
 her part. 
 
 H:l. 0, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd: 
 She was a vixen, when she went to school ; 
 And, though she be hut little, she is fierce. 
 
 Her. Little aiainl nothing but low and little !— 
 Why will you sutfer her to flout me thus ! 
 Let me come to her. 
 
 Li/s. r,et you gone, you dwarf; 
 
 You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass* made; 
 You bead, you acorn. 
 
 J}em. Y'ou are too officious 
 
 In lier behalf that scorn your services. 
 Let her alone ; speak not of Helena ; 
 Take not her part: for if thou dost intend' 
 Never so little show of love to her, 
 Thou shalt aby it. 
 
 Li/s. Now, she holds me not ; 
 
 Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right. 
 Or thine or rame, is most in Helena. 
 
 Dem. Follow? nay, Fll go with Ihee cheek by 
 jole. [Exeunt Lts. and Dem. 
 
 Her. Y'ou. mistress, all this coil is 'long of you : 
 Nay, go not back. 
 
 He!. 1 will not trust you, I ; 
 
 Nor longer stay in your curst company. 
 Y'our hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray • 
 My legs are longer though, to run away. [V,xil. 
 
 'Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. 
 [Exit, piir.stiini; Hklkxa. 
 
 O'je. This is thy negligence: still thou mistak'st, 
 Or else commifst thy knaveries wilfully. 
 
 Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. 
 Did not you tell me, I should know the man 
 By the Athenian garments he had on? 
 And so far blameless proves my enterprize, 
 That I have nointed an .Athenian's eyes: 
 And so tar am 1 i;lad it so did sort. 
 As this their jangling I esteem a sport. 
 
 Obe. Thou seest, these lovers seek a place to fight : 
 Hie, therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; 
 The starry welkin cover thou anon 
 •With drooping fog, as black as Acheron ; 
 And lead these testy rivals so astray. 
 As one come not within another's way- 
 Like to Lysauder sometime frame thy tongue, 
 Then stir Demetrius u|i with bitter wrong ; 
 And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; 
 And from each other look thou lead them thus. 
 Till o'er tlieir brows death couiilerfeiting sleep 
 With leaden legs and baity wings doth creep; 
 Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; 
 Whose liquor hath this virtuous property. 
 To take from thence all error, with his might, 
 And make his eye-halls roll with wonted sight. 
 When lliey next wake all this derision 
 Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision; 
 And hack to Athens shall the lovers wend,» 
 With leauue, whose date till death shall never end. 
 Whiles I in this allair do thee employ, 
 I'll to my qui;en, and beg her Indian boy ; 
 And then 1 will her charmed eye release 
 From monsters view, and all things shall he peace. 
 
 Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, 
 3 Foolish. 
 * Anoiontly, knot-grass M-.as bclieveil to prevent the 
 growth of ehililrcn. ' I'rctend. "Go. 
 
 For night'sswiftdragons cut tlie clouds full fast, 
 
 And yonder sliincs Auroras liarbins'er; 
 
 At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and 
 
 there. 
 Troop home to church-yards: damned spirits all, 
 That in crossways and iloods have burial. 
 Already to their wormy lieris are none; 
 For fear lest day shouM look their shames upon, 
 They wilfully themselves exile from light. 
 And must for aye consort with hiack-hrow'd night. 
 
 O'le. Hut we are spirits of another sort: 
 I with the Morning's Love' have oft made sport; 
 And. like a forester, the groves may tread, 
 Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, 
 Opening on Neptune "ith fair blessed beams, 
 Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. 
 But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay : 
 We may etl'cct this business yet ere day. [ExU On. 
 Puck. Up and down, up and down; 
 
 I will lead tliem up and down : 
 
 I am fcar'd in field and town ; 
 
 Goblin, lead them up and down. 
 Here comes one. 
 
 Enter LTS.iM>En. 
 
 Li/S. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak 
 
 thou now. 
 Puck. Here, villain; drawn and ready. 'Where 
 
 art tliou? 
 Lj/s. I wdl be with thee straight. 
 Puck. Follow me then 
 
 To plainer ground. 
 
 [Exit Ltsanbeii, as following tlie voice. 
 
 Enter DEMKTnius. 
 
 Bern. Lysander! speak again 
 
 Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou lied ' 
 Speak. In some bush ? Where dost thou hide thy 
 head \ 
 Puck. Thou coward, art thou hragtjing to the stars, 
 Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, 
 And wilt not come? come, recreant; come, thou 
 
 child ; 
 I'll whip thee with a rod : He is defil'd. 
 That draws a sword on thee. 
 JDem. Yea; art thou there? 
 
 Puck. Follow my voice ; we'll try no manhood 
 here. \ Exeunt. 
 
 Re.enter t.Ysx'svr.n. 
 Ltjs. He goes before me, and still dares me on ; 
 When I come where he calls, then he is gone. 
 The villain is much lighter beef d tiian I : 
 I follow'd fast, but faster he did lly ; 
 That fallen am I in dark uneven way. 
 And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day! 
 
 [Lies doivn. 
 For if but once thou show me thy grey light, 
 I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps. 
 
 Re-enter Puck and Demetrius. 
 
 Puck. Ho, ho ! ho, ho ! Coward, why com'st thou 
 
 not ? 
 Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot, 
 Thou runn'st before me, sliTfting every place ; 
 And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face. 
 W here art thou 1 
 Puck. Come hither ; I am here. 
 
 Dem. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shall 
 buy this dear. 
 If ever I thy face by daylight see : 
 Now, ETO thy way. Faihtness constraineth me 
 To measure out'my length on this cold bed. — 
 By day's approach look to be visited. 
 
 [Lies down and sleeps. 
 
 Enter IIi:LE?f.i. 
 
 Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night. 
 
 Abate thy hours : shine, comforts, from the east ; 
 That I may back to Athens, by day-light. 
 
 From these that my poor company detest: — 
 And, sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye. 
 Steal mc awhile from mine own company. [Steeps 
 Puck. Yet but three? Come one more ; 
 
 Two of both kinds, make up four. 
 
 Here she comes, curst and sad : — 
 
 Cup:d is a knavish lad. 
 
 Thus to make poor females mad. 
 
 iCephalus, the jjaramour of Aurora, 
 
Act IV. Scene I. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 129 
 
 Enter Hermia. 
 
 Htr. Xcvcr sj weary, never so in woe, 
 
 BcJa'jhIcdwitli the dew. and torn with briers: 
 I can no further crawl, no fiirlhor ^o ; 
 
 My Iciis can keep no pace with my desires. 
 Here wdl I rest inc till the break of day. 
 Heavens shield Lysaiider, if they mean a fray! 
 
 [Ltci- dottm. 
 Puck. On the ground 
 Sleep sound : 
 III apply 
 To your eye. 
 Gentle lover, remedy. 
 
 [Sq'tetzinfr the Juice on I.tsaxheh's eye. 
 When thouwak"st, 
 Th')u tak'st 
 True delisht 
 Tn the sifrlit 
 Of thy tbrnii'r iaily's eye: 
 And ihe country proverb known, 
 That every man should take Iiis own. 
 In jour wakin.; shall be shown: 
 Jack shall have Jill ; 
 Nou-dit shall jro ill ; 
 The man sliall have his marc a^ain. and all shall be 
 well. 
 
 [Exit Pi'cK. — Dem., Hf.l., &c., sleep. 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I— The same. 
 
 Enfer TiTAN-iA ami Bottom, Fairies ultending: 
 Obebon- behind unseen. 
 
 Tila. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, 
 While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,» 
 And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, 
 And kiss thy tair lan;e cars, my gentle joy. 
 
 But. Where's I'eas-blossum? 
 
 Peas. Ready. 
 
 B'if. Scratch mv head. Peas-blossom. — Where's 
 monsieur Cobweb? 
 
 Cob. Ready. 
 
 But. Monsieur Cobwen ; jiood monsieur, set your 
 weapons in your hand, and kill nie a red-hipped 
 humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; and, sood mon- 
 sieur, brint£: me the honey-ba'i. Do not fret your- 
 self too much in the action, monsieur; and, KOod 
 monsieur, have a care the honcy-!)a:i break not : I 
 would be loath to have you overflown with a honey- 
 ba;:^, si'^nior. — Where' s'monsieur Mustard-seed \ 
 
 Mnst. Ready. 
 
 But. Give me your nicf,' monsieur Mustard-seed. 
 Prav you, leave your cmntesy, good monsieur. 
 
 Must. What's your will T 
 
 Bot. Nothing, Kood monsieur, but to help cavalero 
 Cobweb to scratch. I nmst to the barber's, mon- 
 sieur; for, mcthinks, I am marvellous hairy about 
 the face: and I am such a tender ass, if my hair 
 do but tickle me, I must scratch. 
 
 TUa. What, wilt thou liear some music, my 
 sweet Iove1 
 
 Bof. I have a reasonable good ear in music: let 
 us have the tonss and the bones. 
 
 TUa. Or, say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. 
 
 But. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch 
 your dry tiood oats. Mcthinks I liave a .s"reat de- 
 sire to a bottle of hay; good hay, sweet hay hath 
 no fellow. 
 
 Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek 
 The squirrefs board, and fetch thee new nuts. 
 
 Bot. I had rather have a handful, or two. of dried 
 peas. But I pray you. let none of your people stir 
 me : I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. 
 
 Tila. Sleep thou, and I will wind Ihee in my arms. 
 Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. 
 
 1 Exeunt Fairies. 
 So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle, 
 Geidly entwist, — the female ivy so 
 Entiiiss the barky fimrers of the elm. 
 O, how I love thee ! how I dote on thee ! 
 
 I Tliey sleep. 
 
 Obf.kox advances. Enter Pick. 
 
 Oif. Welcome, sood Robin. See'st thou this 
 
 sweet si^ht ! 
 Her dotage now I do lie^in to pity. 
 For meeiinf^ her of late, behind the wood. 
 Seeking sweet savors for this hateful fool, 
 I did upbraid her, and fall out with her: 
 For she his hairy temples then bad rounded 
 With coronet of fresh ami fragrant llowers; 
 And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 
 Was wont to swell. like round and orient pearls. 
 Stood now within the pretty tlowrets' eyes. 
 Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. 
 When I had. at my pleasure, taunted her. 
 And she, m mild terms, begg'd my patience, 
 « Stroke. » Fist 
 
 9 
 
 I then did ask of her her changeling child ; 
 Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent 
 ■fo bear him to my bower in fiiry land. 
 And now I have the boy, I will undo 
 This hateful imperfection of her eyes. 
 And, licntic Puck, take this transtormcd scalp 
 From oif the head of this Athenian swain; 
 That he awaking when the others do, 
 .Mav nil to Athens back again rei^air; 
 And think no more of this night's accidents, 
 But as the tierce vexation of a dream. 
 But tirst 1 Will release the fairy queen. 
 Be. as thou wast wont to be, 
 
 \Tinichini!; tier ei/es v.-ilti an herb, 
 See, as thou wast wont to see ; 
 Dian's bud oer Cupid's llower 
 Hath such force and blessed power. 
 \ow, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. 
 
 Tita. iSIy Oberon ! what visions have 1 seen ! 
 Methougbt. 1 wasenamor'd of an ass. 
 O'le. There lies your love. 
 
 TUa. (low came these things to passt 
 
 O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now ! 
 
 O'ic. silence, a while. — Robin, latie offlhishead. 
 Titania. music call; and strike more dead 
 Than common sleep, of all these live tiic sense. 
 Tila.- Music, ho ! music, such as chormeth sleep. 
 Puck. NoAT, when thou wak'st, with thine own 
 
 fool's eyes peep. 
 O'te. Sound, music. [Still music.\ Come, my 
 queen, take hands with me. 
 And rock the ground wdiereon these sleepers be. 
 Xow^ thou and I are new in amity ; 
 .\nd will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly. 
 Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly, 
 And bless it to all lair posterity : 
 There shall the |)airs of faithful lovers be 
 Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. 
 
 Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark; 
 I (.io hear the morning lark. 
 
 O'le. T'hen, my queen, in silence sad. 
 Trip we after the night's sl]ade: 
 V.'e the globe can compass soon. 
 Swifter than the wand'ring moon. 
 
 Tit(f. Come, my lord; ami in our night. 
 Tell me how it come this night. 
 That 1 sleeping here was found, 
 With these mortals, on the ground. [E.veunt. 
 [Horns sound tvittiin. 
 
 Enter THtsEfs, Hippoltta, F.geus, and train. 
 
 Tlie. Go. one of you. find out the forester; — 
 For now our observation is perform'd; 
 And since we have the vawardi of the day. 
 My love shall hear the music of my Iiouiids. — 
 I'ncouple in the western valley ; go: — 
 Despatch. 1 say, and find the forester. — 
 We will, fair queen, up Io the mountain's top. 
 And mark the music.il confusion 
 Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 
 
 Hip. 1 w.is with Hercules, and Cadmus, once. 
 When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
 With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear 
 Such gallant chidini: ; for, besides tlic groves. 
 The skies, the fountains, every region near 
 Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard 
 So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. 
 
 Tlie. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
 I Forepart. 
 
mo 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 So flcn'd,'' so sandcJ ; and their heads are hung 
 With cars that swpcp away the inoniiii;! dew ; 
 Crook-kncu'd, and dew-hijiM like Tlicssalian bulls; 
 Slow in pursuit, but matchVi in mouth like bells, 
 Kach under each. A cry more tuneable 
 Was never holla'd to. nor chcer'd with horn, 
 In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Tliessaly : 
 Judge when you hear.— But, soft'; what nymphs 
 are these 1 
 
 Ef^P: My lord, this is my daughter here asleep : 
 And this, Lysander; tliis Demetrius is; 
 This Helena, old Nedar's Helena. 
 I wonder of their bcin,^ here together. 
 
 The. No doubt they rose up early, to observe 
 The rite of May; and, hearing; our intent. 
 Came liere in grace of our solcnniity. — 
 But, speak, Kgeus ; is not this the day 
 That Hermia should give answer of her choice 1 
 
 E^e. It is, my lord. 
 
 The. Oo, bid the huntsmen wake them with their 
 horns. 
 Hnrns andshnuts ici/ Am. De vf.t n ivs, Lvsa>- her, 
 Hermia, a/i.i Helena, wake and nturl up. 
 
 The. Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is 
 past ; 
 Be^in these wood-birds but to couple now? 
 
 Lijs. Pardon, my lord. 
 
 [He and the rest kneel tn Tiies-.cs. 
 
 The. I pray you all, stand up. ■ 
 
 I know you are two rival enemies; 
 How comes this gentle concord in the world. 
 That haired is so far from jealousy. 
 To sleep by hate, and fear no enniity 1 
 
 Li/f. -My lord, I shall reply amazedly, 
 Half sleep, half waking: liut as yet, I swear 
 I cannot iruly sav how I came here : 
 Hut. as I think, (for truly would I spc.ik,— 
 And now I do bethink ine. so it- is,) 
 I came with Hermia hither: our intent 
 Was, to be gone from Athens, vi'here we might be 
 Without the peril of the Athenian law. 
 
 Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have 
 enough: 
 I beg the law, the law, upon his head. — 
 They wouhl have stofn away, they would, Deme- 
 trius, 
 Thereby to have defeated you and me: 
 You. of your wife; and me, of my consent; 
 Of my consent that she should be your wife. 
 
 Dent. My lord, fair Helen told me of theirstealth. 
 Of this their purpose hither to this wood ; 
 And 1 in I'ury hither follow'd them ; 
 Fair Helena in fancy following me. 
 But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, 
 (Rut by some power it is,) my love to Hermia, 
 Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now 
 .\s the remembrance of an idle ^awd. 
 Which in my childhood I did dote upon: 
 And all the fiith, the virtue of my heart, 
 The o!ijpc-t. and the pleasure of niine eye, 
 Is only Helena. To her, my lord. 
 Was 1 betrothd ere I saw Hermia: 
 Hut, like in sickness, did 1 loath this food; 
 Now do I wish it. love it, long for it. 
 And will for evermore be true to it. 
 
 The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: 
 Of this discourse we more will hear anon. — 
 F.gcu.s. 1 will overhear your will; 
 For in the temple by and by with us, 
 These couples shall eternally be knit. 
 And, for the morning now is something %vorn. 
 Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.— 
 A wav, with us, 10 .VI hens : Three and three, 
 We'll hold a fi'ast in great solemnity. — 
 Come, Hippolvta. 
 
 [Eceniit The.. Hip., Eoe., and Irmn. 
 Dem. The.se things seetn small and undistiuguish- 
 able, 
 Lik'e far-olTmounhiins turned into clouds, 
 
 H'T. Methinks, I see tliese thing.s with parted eye. 
 When overy thing seems double. 
 
 llrl. " So methinks: 
 
 And I have found Demetrius like a jewel. 
 Mine own, and not mine own. 
 
 a The flews are the large chaps of a bouud. = Love. 
 
 Dem. It peen s to me, 
 
 That yet we sleep, we drrnni — lio not you think, 
 The duke was here, and bid us follow huii 1 
 H'T. Vea; and my fatiier. 
 Hel. And Hippolyta. 
 
 7.1/5. .And he did Iwd us follow to the temple. 
 Dsni. Why tlieii,^ve are awake: let's follow 
 him ; 
 And, by the way, let ns recount our dreams. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 .'Is they go out, Bottom au'alces. 
 
 Bol. When my cue comes, call me, and I will 
 answer: — my next is, Mii.yf fair Pyramus. — Hey, 
 Iio ! — Peter (Quince ! Flule, the bellows-mender! 
 Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! 
 stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a 
 most rare vision. I have had 'a dream, — past the 
 wit of man to say what dream it was : Man is but 
 an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. 
 Methought I was — there is no man can tell what. 
 I\Ietliought 1 was, and methought I had, — Hut 
 man is but a patched fool, if he will oiler to say 
 what methought I had. The eye of man hath 
 not heard, the ear of man hath not seen ; man's 
 hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, 
 nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I 
 will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this 
 dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because 
 it liatii no bottom ; and I will sing it in the latter 
 end of the play, before the du!;e ! Peradventure, to 
 make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her 
 death. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE It. — .Athens. .4 JJoom m Quince's House. 
 
 Enter Quince. Flute, Snout, and STAnvELiNo. 
 
 Q'lin. Have you sent to Bottom's hou.se ? is he 
 come home yet ! 
 
 Star. Ho cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, lie 
 is transported. 
 
 Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred ; It 
 goes not forward, doth it! 
 
 Qnin. It is not possible : you have not a man in 
 all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he. 
 
 Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any 
 handicraft man in Athens. 
 
 Quiii. "V'ea, and the best person too: and he is 
 a very paramour, for a sweet voice. 
 
 Flu. 'V'ou must say paragon: a paramour is, 
 God bless us, a thing of nought. 
 
 i'li/O-SNUG. 
 
 Snug. Ma.sters, the duke is coming from tlie 
 temple, an there is two or three lords and ladies 
 more married : if our sport had gone forward, we 
 liad all been made men. 
 
 Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost 
 six-pence a day during his life; he could not have 
 'scaped sixpence a-day': an the duke had not given 
 him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll he 
 hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, 
 in Pyramus, or nothing. 
 
 Enter Bottom. 
 
 But. Where are these lads? where are these hearts'! 
 
 Quin. Bottom! — O most courageous day! 
 most happy hour! 
 
 But. Mastcr.s, 1 am to discourse wonders: hut ask 
 me not what; I'cr. if I tell you. I am no true Athe- 
 nian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out. 
 
 Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. 
 
 Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, 
 is, that the duke hath dined : IJet yonr apparel to- 
 gether; good strings to your beards, new ribbons 
 to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; 
 every man look o'er his part; for, the short and 
 tlie long is, our play is prelcrred. In any case let 
 Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that 
 plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang 
 out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, 
 eat no onions, nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet 
 breath ; and, I do not doubt, but to hear them say, 
 it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away ; go. 
 away [E.ceunt 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 131 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE \.— All Aparimeitt in the Palace of 
 
 Tlieseus. 
 
 Enter Tueseus, Hii'POLtTA, Philostrate, 
 
 Lords, and Allendanls. 
 
 lUp. 'Tis slrange, my Tlieseus, tliat tncse lovers 
 spoak of. 
 
 The. More strani^e than true, I never may believe 
 These antique fables, nnr these tairy toys. 
 Lovers and madmen, liavc such seething brams, 
 Suchshiipins fantasies, that apprehend 
 More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
 The lunatic, the lover and the poet, 
 Are of imagination all compact:* 
 One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; 
 That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, 
 Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Kiypt : 
 The poet's eye. in a fine frenzy rollini.'. 
 Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 
 
 heaven. 
 And, as imagination bodies forth 
 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 Turns them to shapes, and sives to airy nothing 
 A local habitation and a name. 
 Such tricks hath stroni; imas;ination ; 
 That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 
 It comprehends some brinL'Cr of that joy ; 
 Or, in the night, imasinini some fear. 
 How easy is a bush suppos'd a hear ! 
 
 Hip. Rut all tlie story of the nialit told over, 
 And all their minds transfiiur'd so together. 
 More witnesseth than fancy's imaaes. 
 And grows to something of srcat .constancy; 
 But, howsoever, strange and admirable. 
 
 Enter Ltsaniier, DEMETnirs, Heumia, and 
 Helena. 
 
 The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth,- 
 Joy, Rcntle friends! joy, and fresh days of love, 
 Accompany your hearts ! 
 
 L,/,?. More than to us 
 
 ■Wait on your royal walks, your board, vonr hed ! 
 
 The. Come now ; what masks, what dances shall 
 we have. 
 To wear away this long a»e of three hours, 
 Between our after-supper, and bed-time ! 
 Where is our usual manager of mirth ! 
 What revels are in hand'! Is there no play, 
 To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ! 
 Call Philostrate. 
 
 rhiUist. Here, mighty Theseus. 
 
 The. Say what abridgement' have you for this 
 evening 1 , •, 
 
 What mxsk'! what music ? How shall we beguile 
 The lazy time, if not with some deliL'ht ! 
 
 Philosl. 'rherc is a brief," how many sports are 
 
 Make choice 'of which your highness will see first. 
 {Girinf; n paper. 
 The. [Reads.] Th-. battle xoith thf Centaurs 
 to be sung, 
 Bit nn Atheninn eunuch to the harp. 
 W'e'll none of that: that have I told my love, 
 III glory of my kinsman Hercules. 
 
 The riot nf the tips}/ Saechanats. 
 
 Tearing the Thraeian singer in tlieir rage. 
 That is an old device ; and it was play'd 
 When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. 
 
 Tlie thrice tliree Muses mnurningfnr the death 
 
 Of learning, late deceas'din iHgirarij. 
 That Is some satire, keen, and critical. 
 Not sorting with a nuptual ceremony- 
 
 A tedinus t)rirf scene of young Pijramus, 
 
 And Ais love fhislie: very tragical mirth. 
 Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief! 
 That is, hot ice. and wonderous strange snow. 
 How shall we find the concord of this discord ! 
 Philosl. A play there is, my lord, some ten words 
 long; 
 Which is as brief as I have known a play : 
 But by ten words, my lord, it is too long ; 
 
 « Compacted, made. • Pastime, « Short account. 
 
 Which makes it tc<lions: for in all the play 
 There is not one word ajit, one player fitted. 
 And tragical, my noble lord, it is; 
 For Pyramus therein dotli kill himself. 
 Which, wlien I saw rehears'd, I must confess, 
 .Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears 
 ■fhe passion of loud laughter never shed. 
 
 Tlie. What are they, that do play it! 
 
 Philosl. Hard-handed men, that work in Alhciig 
 here. 
 Which never labor'd in their minds till now ; 
 And now have tod'd their nnbreath'd memories 
 With tliis same play, against your nuptual. 
 
 The. And we will hear it. , , . 
 
 Philosl. No, my noble lord, 
 
 It is not for you : I have heard it over. 
 .\nd it is nothins. nothing in the world ; 
 Unless you can find sport in their intents, 
 E.f tremely stretch'd and connd with cruel pain. 
 To do you service, 
 
 The. I will hear that play ; 
 
 For never anything can be amiss, 
 When simpleness and duty tender it. 
 (!o, bring them in; — and take your places, ladies. 
 [£j;i< PuiLiisrnATE. 
 
 Hip, I love not to sec wretchedness o'crcharg'd, 
 And duty in his service perishing. 
 
 The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no sucli 
 thing. . , . , . J 
 
 Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kina. 
 
 Tilt. The kinder we to give them thanks ibr noth- 
 ing. 
 Our sjiort shall be, to take what they mistake : 
 .\nd what poor duty can do. 
 Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
 Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
 To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
 Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
 Make periods in the midst of sentences. 
 Throttle their practised accentln their fears, 
 And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke oil, 
 Not paying me a welcome : Trust me, sweet. 
 Out of this silence, yet, I pickd a welcome ; 
 And in the modesty of fearful duty 
 I read as much, as from the rattling tongue 
 Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 
 Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, 
 In least, speak most, to my capacity. 
 
 Enter Pmios-rn.iTE. 
 Philosl. So please your grace, the prologue is 
 
 addrest.' . , ^ , , 
 
 The. Let him approach. [Flourish of Iruinpcls. 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 
 Prol. If we offend, it vs tuith our gond-ivill. 
 
 That you shmild thinit, we come not to offend. 
 But with good-will. To show our simple skill, 
 
 That is the true beginning of our end. 
 Conxider then, we come but in despite. 
 
 We do not come as minding to content ynu. 
 Our true intent li. All for your delight. 
 
 We are not here. That you, should here rcpcnl 
 you. 
 The actors are at hand .- and by Iheir show. 
 You sluill know all, that you are like to know. 
 
 The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. 
 Li/s. He hath rid bis prologue like a rough colt; 
 he knows not tlie stop. A good moral, my lord: 
 It IS not enough to speak, but to speak true. 
 
 Hip- Indeed he hath played on thisprologue, like 
 a child on a recorder;' a sound, but not in govern- 
 ment. ., , J , ■ 
 
 The. His speech was like a tangled chain; no- 
 thing impaired but all disordered. Who is next ! 
 Enter Ptiia:«us and Tiiisbe, Wall, Moonshine, 
 
 andhion, as in dumb ihow. 
 Prol. "Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this 
 show ; 
 1 Ready. ' A musical instrument. 
 
132 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT^S DREAM. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 " Hut wonder on. till truth maUe all things plain. 
 "This man is I^y ramus, if you woukl l<now; 
 
 " riiis bcautt'ous lady Thisby is, corUiui. 
 "This man with luue iwid rouiih-casl, doth present 
 
 "Wall, that vile wall \vfiich did these lovers 
 i^undcr; 
 "And llH-ouLi:h wall's chink, poor souls, they are 
 content 
 
 '' To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. 
 "This man with lantern, do^, and hush ol' thorn, 
 
 " I'reseuteth moou-sliine: ior, if you will know, 
 '' By intion-shine did these lovers think no scorn 
 
 " To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. 
 "This grisly beast, which by name lion hif;ht,» 
 "The trusty Thisby, cominii: hrst by nif^ht, 
 
 * Did scare away, or rutlier dtd allriiiht: 
 
 * And, as she lied, her mantle she did tall ; 
 
 '* Which lion vile with bloody month did stain: 
 " Anon comes Pyramus. sweet youth, and tall, 
 
 " A nd finds his trusty Thisby "s mantle slain : 
 " Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, 
 
 '* He bravely broach'd his boilin;< bloody breast; 
 " And, Thisby tarryin;^ in mulberry shade, 
 
 *■ Ilis d i^Lcer drew, and died. For all the rest, 
 " Let lion, moonshine, wall, and lovers twain, 
 " At larj^e discourse, while here they do remain." 
 
 [Ex. Prol., Pru., TnisEtK, Lion, an >t Moonshine. 
 
 The. 1 wonder it the lion be to speak. 
 
 Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when 
 many asses do. 
 
 IVali. ■' In this same hiterlude, it doth befall, 
 " That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: 
 "And such a wall, as I would have you think, 
 "That had in it acrannyd hole, or chink, 
 " Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, 
 " Did whisper often very secretly. 
 "'J'his loam, this roU|,'h-cast, and this stone, doth 
 
 sliow, 
 " That I am that same wall; the truth is so: 
 " And this the cranny is, ris;hl and sinister, 
 " riirouiih which the fearful lovers are to whisper." 
 
 The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak 
 better ! 
 
 Dtni. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard 
 discourse, my lord. 
 
 The. Pyramus draws near the wall : silence ! 
 
 Enter Pyra>ii:s. 
 
 Pur. " grim-lookM night ! ni^ht with hue so 
 black ! 
 
 " ni^ht, which ever art, when day is not ! 
 " nif^ht, nistht, alack, alack, alack, 
 
 " I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot ! — 
 " And, thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, 
 
 " That sland'st between her father s ground and 
 mine! 
 " Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, 
 
 " Show mc thy chink, to blink through with mine 
 eyne. | IVttU hoUis up his Ji niters. 
 
 " Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for 
 this! 
 
 " But what see I ? No Thisby do I sec. 
 " O wicked wall, through whom 1 see no bliss ; 
 
 "Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me I '' 
 
 The. The wall, methinks, bemg sensible, should 
 curse again. 
 
 Vyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving 
 me, is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am 
 to spy her through the wall. You shall sec, it will 
 fall pat as I told you : — Yonder she comes. 
 
 Enter Tiiisbk. 
 
 This." w'all, full often hast thou heard my moans, 
 " For parting my fair Pyramus and me : 
 
 "My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones; 
 *' i'hy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee." 
 Pi/r. "I see a voice: now will I to the chink, 
 
 " To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. 
 
 "Thisby!" 
 
 This. " My love, thou art my love, I think."' 
 Pyr." Think what thou wilt, 1 am thy lover's grace; 
 
 "And like Limandcr am 1 trusty still.'' 
 
 This. " And I like Helen, till the fates mc kill." 
 Piir, " Not Sharaliis lo Procrus was so true." 
 This. " As Shafalus to Procrus, 1 to you." 
 Pqr. "(). kiss me through the hole of this vile 
 
 wall." 
 This. " I kiss the walPs hole, not your lips at all." 
 9 CalKd. 
 
 Pijr. '*Wi!t thou at Ninny's tomb meet me 
 straightway \ '' 
 
 This. " Tide life, tide death, I come without delay." 
 
 (Kw/'. "Thus have I, wall, my part dischar-edso; 
 "And, being done, thus wall away doth go.'' 
 
 \Extuiit Wail, Pyramus, a«'/ Thisbe. 
 
 The. Now IS the mural down between the two 
 neighbors. 
 
 i)fm. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so 
 willul to hear without warning. 
 
 Jlip. This is the silliest stun that ever I heard. 
 
 The- The best in this kind are but shadows : and 
 tiie worst are no worse, if iinaginalion anienil them. 
 
 Jlip. It must be your imagination then, and not 
 theirs. 
 
 The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they 
 of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. 
 Here come two noble boasts in, a moon, and a lion. 
 
 Enter Lion and Moonshine. 
 
 Lion. " Y'ou, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do 
 
 fear 
 'The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on 
 tloor. 
 '• May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, 
 
 "When lion rough in wildest ra^edoth roar. 
 " Tlien know, that 1, one Snug the joiner, am 
 " A lion fell, nor else no lion s dam: 
 " For ill should as lion come in strife 
 " Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.'" 
 
 The. A very gentle beast and of a good conscience. 
 JJe/n. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er 
 
 I saw. 
 L}fS. This lion is a very fox for his valor. 
 The. True; and a goose for liis discretion. 
 Deni. Not so, my lord: for Jus valor cannot 
 carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose. 
 The. His discretion, lam sure, cannot carry his 
 valor ; for the goose carries not the Ibx. 1 1 is well : 
 leave it to his discretion, and let us hsten to the 
 moon. 
 Mmm. "This lantern doth the horned moon 
 
 present : — " 
 Dcni. He should have worn the horns on hishead. 
 The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisi- 
 ble within the circumlerence. 
 Moon. " This lantern dotii the horned moon 
 present; 
 " MyscU the man i'thc moon do seem to be." 
 
 The. Tliisis the greatest error of all the rest: the 
 man should be put into the lantern : How is it else 
 the man ithc moon ! 
 
 Dem. He dares not come there for the candle: 
 for you see, it is already in snutl> 
 
 lilp. I am aweary of this moon: Would, he 
 would change! 
 
 The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, 
 that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, In all 
 reason, we must stay the time. 
 Lu-s. proceed, moon. 
 
 Muon. All that I have lo say, is, to tell you, that 
 the lantern is the moon: 1, the man in the moon ;this 
 thorn-bush, my thorn-bush ; and this dog, my dog. 
 Veni. WMiy all these should be in the lantern; 
 for they are in the moon. But, silence; here 
 comes Thisbe. 
 
 Enter Thisbk. 
 This. "This is old Ninny's tomb; Where is my 
 
 love I ' 
 /.io/(."Oh. — " 
 
 [The Lion 7-nars. — Thisbk runs off 
 VJcW roared, lion. 
 Well run, Thisl)e. 
 
 Well shone, moon. — Truly, tne moon 
 siiines with a good grace. 
 Well moused, lion. 
 ^The Lion tears Thisuk's mantle and exit 
 Deni\ And so conies Pyramus. 
 Lijs. And so the lion vanish d. 
 
 Enter PvuAMrs. 
 Pi/r. " Sweet moon, 1 thank thee for thy sunny 
 
 beams ; 
 " I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright; 
 ' For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams 
 " I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight. 
 •'Hut stay; — o spite! 
 " But mark; — Poor knight, 
 I In auger; t quibble. 
 
 Deni. 
 The. 
 Hip. 
 
 The. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 133 
 
 " What drcadf.il dole is here ! 
 '* Kyes, do you see ! 
 *' How can it bd ? 
 «0 dainty duck! Odear! 
 *'Thy niaiitle ^ood, 
 "VVliat, slaind w;tli blood? 
 "Approach, ye furies li'll ! 
 '* ( ) I'ates ! come, come ; 
 " Cut tliread and thrum ;» 
 " i^uail, crush, conclude, and quell ! '* 
 The. This p ission, and the death of a dear friend, 
 would go near to make a man look sad. 
 Hip. Beshrew my heart, hut I pity the man. 
 Pyr, *' O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions 
 
 frame ! 
 "Since lion vile hath here dcflour'd my dear: 
 "Which is — no, no — whicfi wa^ the fairest dame. 
 "That livd, tliat lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd 
 " with cheer.' 
 " Come, tears, confound ; 
 " Out, sword, and wound 
 " The pap of Pyramus: 
 " Ay, that left pap, 
 " Where heart doth hop : 
 "Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. 
 *' Now am I dead, 
 " Now am 1 lied, 
 " My soul is in the sky : 
 
 ■' Tongue, lose thy li^ht ! 
 "Moon, take thy lli^ht! 
 " Now die, die, die, die, die.' 
 
 [Uief.— Exit Moonshine. 
 Deni. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. 
 Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he 
 is nothing. 
 
 Tke. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet 
 recover, and prove an ass. 
 
 Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before 
 Thisbe comes back and limls her lover 1 
 
 The. She will find him by star-lisht.— Here she 
 comes; and her passion ends the play. 
 
 Enler Tins be. 
 
 Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, 
 for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. 
 
 Lys. She hath spied liim already with those sweet 
 eyes. 
 
 Vem. And thus she moans, videlicet. — 
 Thi^. " Asleep, my love? 
 " What, dead, my dove ! 
 " Pyramus, arise, 
 
 " Speak, speak. Quite dumb ? 
 " Dead, dead ! A tomb 
 " Must cover thy sweet eyes. 
 " These lily brows, 
 " This cherry nose, 
 " These yellow cowslip cheeks, 
 " Are gone, are gone : 
 "Lovers, make moan! 
 "His eyes were green as leeks. 
 *' O sisters three, 
 " Come, come, to me, 
 "With hands as pale as milk ; 
 " Lay them in gore, 
 " Since you have shore 
 "With shears, his thread of silk. 
 " Tongue, not a word : — 
 " Come, trusty sword ; 
 " Come, blade, n\y breast imbrue : 
 "And farewell, friends; — 
 " Thus Thishc ends: 
 "Adieu, adieu, adieu." [Dies. 
 
 The. Moonshine and lion are lert to bury the dead. 
 Bern. Ay, and wall too. 
 
 But. No,' I assure you; the wall is down that 
 parted their fathers. Will it please you to sec the 
 epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between 
 t\vo of our company ? 
 
 The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play 
 needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the 
 layers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. 
 _ larry, if he that writ it. had play'd Pyramus, and 
 hanged himself in Thishes garter, it would have 
 been a fine tragedy : and so it is truly ; and very 
 notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask : 
 let yolu: epilogue alone. 
 
 [ Here a dance of Clowns. 
 • Coarse yarn ■ Couutenance. 
 
 Ei 
 
 Thp iron toii;:iie of muliiiiihl halh told twelve : — 
 
 Lovers, to t)etl; 'tus almost lairy time. 
 
 1 fear we shall outsleep the coming mom. 
 
 As much as we tliis ni^ht have overwatch'd. 
 
 This palpable t;ross play hatii well bcjruil'd 
 
 The heavy ^ait of nif^lit. — .<weet friends, to bed.— 
 
 A fortniiiht liold we this solemnity, 
 
 In nightly revels, and new jollity. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter Puck. 
 
 Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, 
 
 .\iid the wolf hehowls the moon; 
 Wliilstthe heavy plou;;hman snores, 
 
 All With weary task fordone.* 
 Now the wasted brands do jjiow. 
 
 Whilst tlie scritch-owl, scritchin^ loud, 
 Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, 
 
 In remernbranee of a shroud. 
 Now it is the tijne of night. 
 
 That tlie graves all i^apins: wide, 
 Kvery one lets forth Ills sprite, 
 
 In tlie church-way paths to glide: 
 And we fairies, lliat do run 
 
 Hy the trmie of Hecate's team, 
 From the presence of the sun. 
 
 Following darkness like a dream. 
 Now are frolic; not a mouse 
 Shall disturb tills hallow'd house: 
 I am sent, with broom, before. 
 To sweep the dust behind the door. 
 
 Enler Okf.hov ani Titaxia, icitkiheir Train. 
 
 O'ie. Through this house give glimmering light, 
 By the dead ami drowsy tire: 
 
 Kvery elf. and fairy sprite. 
 Hop as li;:ht as bird from brier; 
 And his ditty, after me, 
 Sing, and dance it trippingly. 
 
 Tihi. First, rehearse this song by rote : 
 To each word a warbling note. 
 Hand in hand, with fairy grace. 
 Will we sing, and bless this place. 
 
 SONG, Asn DANCE. 
 
 Ohe. Now, until the bre:ik of day, 
 Through this house each fairy stray. 
 To the best bride-bed will we. 
 Which by us shall blessed be; 
 And the issue, there create, 
 Ever shall be fortunate. 
 So shall all the couples three 
 Ever true in loving be; 
 And the blots of nature's hand 
 Shall not in their issue stand; 
 Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, 
 Nor mark prodigious,' such as arc 
 Despised in nativity. 
 Shall U[ion their children be. — 
 With this field-dew consecrate, 
 Every fairy take his gait;s 
 And each several chamber bless. 
 Through this palace with sweet peace : 
 E'er shall it in safety re.-^t. 
 And the owner of it blest. 
 
 Trip away ; 
 
 Make no stay ; 
 Meet me all by break of day. 
 
 Exeunt Ukehon, Titaxia, and Tram. 
 
 Puck, If we ahft'iows have offended, 
 
 1 hink hut thi^f {and uU w mended.) 
 That ijou luive hut slumbered here, 
 VVfiilf these visions did appear, 
 And this iveak and idle tkcnie^ 
 No ttiore i/ielding hut a dream 
 Gent It's, dii not repreheiid ; 
 If i/ou pardon, ive tviU mend. 
 And, as I am- honest Puck- 
 Ifnie liave unearned Luck 
 H"w to 'scape the serpent's tongue^ 
 IVewill make amemls, ere bng: 
 Else the Puck a liar call. 
 So, f^ood night unto yau all. 
 Give ntc your hnnd^ if toe hefriend.% 
 And Rohin shall restore amends. [Exi 
 « Overcome. » Portentous. s TVay. 
 
LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 FEnDijfisn, Kin, 
 Binox, j 
 
 loxgaville, v 
 Dl'maix, \ 
 
 BoTET, 
 MERCAItE, 
 
 ? (/ Navarre. 
 
 Lords, attending on tlie King 
 
 Lords, attending on i/te Princess 
 (if France. 
 )Jox AimiAXO HE AnMAi)0,«_/u»/a4YicaZ Spaniard. 
 Sin Nathaniel, a Curate. 
 HoLOFEnNKS, a Sclioolmaster. ' 
 Dull, a Cimslable. 
 Costard, a down. 
 
 Moth, Page to Armado 
 A Forester. 
 
 PitiNcEss or France, 
 
 Ladies attending on the Princess. 
 
 jAauENETTA, u Country We?ic/i. 
 
 Officers and otiiers, attendants on the King and 
 Princess, 
 
 r 111 :> I i.^s oi J. I 
 
 Rosaline, ) 
 Mahia, y 
 
 Katherise, ) 
 
 SCENE, Navarre. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Navarre. A Park with a Palace in it. 
 Enter the King, Biron-, Loxgaville, and 
 
 DCTMAIN. 
 
 Kiri^. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, 
 Live re2;ister'd upon our brazen tombs, 
 And then grace us in the disgrace of death 
 When, spite of cormorant devourinj; time. 
 The endeavor of this present breath may buy 
 That honor, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, 
 And make us heirs of all eternity. 
 Therefore, brave conquerors: — for so you arc, 
 That war against your own affections. 
 And the liui::e army of the world's desires, — 
 Our late edict shall stronj^Iy stand in force: 
 Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; 
 Our court shall be a little Academe, 
 Still and contemplative in livim; art. 
 You three. IJir6n, Dumain, and Lon?avilIe. 
 Have sworn for three years' term to hve with me, 
 My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes, 
 'I'hat are recorded in this schedule here: 
 Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names; 
 That bis own hand may strike his honor down, 
 Tliat violates the smallest branch herein; 
 If vou are arm'd to do, as sworn to do. 
 Subscribe to your deep oath and keep it too. 
 
 Lims;. I am resolva : 'tis but a three years' fast ; 
 The mind shall tianquft. ihouLih the body pine : 
 Fat piiunehcs have W.\\\ pites; and dainty bits 
 I\Iakc ricli the ribs, hut bunk rimt quite the wits. 
 
 Diim. My lovin;; lord, Dumain is mortitied; 
 The crosser manner of these world s dcliy;hts 
 He throws upon the iiros.s worlds baser slaves: 
 To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; 
 AVith alt these livin:; in jibilosophy. 
 
 Biron. I can but say their protestation over, 
 So nnich. dear liese. I have already sworn. 
 That i.s To live and study here three years. 
 lUit there are other strict observances : 
 As. not to see a woman in that term ; 
 Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there: 
 And, one day in a week to touch no food ; 
 And hut one meal on every day beside ; 
 The which. I hope, is not enrolled there; 
 And tliea to sleep but three hours in the night, | 
 134 
 
 And not to be seen to wink of all the day • 
 (When I was wont to think no harm all night, 
 And make a dark ni^Iit too of half the day ;) 
 Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there : 
 (), these are barren tasks, too hard to keep ; 
 Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep. 
 
 King. Youroathispass'd to passaway from these. 
 
 Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please? 
 I only swore, to study with your sracc, 
 And stay here in your court for three years' space. 
 
 Long. You swore to that, }Jir6n. and to the rest. 
 
 Binni. By yea aiid nay sir. then I swore in Jest. — 
 What is the end of study 1 let me know. 
 
 King. Why, that to know, which else we should 
 not know. 
 
 Biron. Thin.i^s hid and barr'd, you mean, from 
 common sense"! " 
 
 King. Ay, that is study's ^od-Iike recompense. 
 
 Biron. Come on then, I will swear to study so. 
 To know the thins I am forbid to know : 
 As thus — To study where I well may dine, 
 
 When I to feast expressly am forbid; 
 Or study where to meet some mistress fine. 
 
 When mistresses from common sense are hid: 
 Or, bavins; sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, 
 Study to break it, and not break my troth. 
 If study's ^ain be thus, and this be so, 
 Study knows that, which yet it doth not know: 
 Swear me to this, and I will neer say, no. 
 
 King. These he the stops that hinder study quite, 
 And train our intellects to vain deli.icht. 
 
 Biron. Wliy, all delights are vain; but that most 
 vain. 
 Which with pain purchas'd. doth inherit pain. 
 As. painfully to pore upon a book. 
 
 To seek the liL,d)t of truth; while truth the while 
 Doth falsely blind the eycsiL:;ht of his look: 
 
 Lisrht, seekinar li,g^ht, both Ii?ht ofli^ht beguile 
 So, ere you find where li;;IU in darkness lies, 
 Your lijiht throws dark by losing of your eyes. 
 Study me how to please the eye indeed, 
 
 By fixing it upon a fairer eye ; 
 Wlio dazzlim; so, that eye shall be his heed, 
 
 And give liim light thai was it blinded by. 
 Study is like the heaven's irlorious sun. 
 
 That will not be deep-searchM with saucy looks, 
 
SCEXS I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 135 
 
 Sm ill hare c luluiai! p'l 1 lers ever WMii, 
 Save base auth jr^ty iVo:ii others" boolcs. 
 These earth'y Kxltatneri of lieaveii's h^hts, 
 
 That give a name to ever lixed star, 
 Have 11) nure profit ofth Mr shining iiii;hts, 
 
 Thin those that wralk, and wot not what tliey are. 
 Too much to know, is, to know nciu.;ht but fame; 
 4nd every godfather can ^ivc a name. 
 King. How well he's read, to reason against 
 
 reading ! 
 Durn. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! 
 Long. He weeds the com, and still let's grow 
 
 the weeding. 
 Biron. rhe spring is near, when green geese are 
 
 a breeding. 
 Bam. How follows that ! 
 
 Biron. Fit in his place and time. 
 
 Dutn. In reason nothing. 
 
 Biron. ^ometliing then in rhyme. 
 
 L'jng. Biron is like an envious sneaping' frost, 
 That bates the first-bjrn infints of the spring. 
 Biron. Well, say I am; why should proud 
 summer boast, 
 Before the birds have any cause to sing 1 
 Why should I joy in an abortive birth 1 
 At Christmas I no ni ire desire a rose 
 Than wisha sno.v in Mays new-fangled shows; 
 But like of each thing, that in season grows. 
 So you. to study now it is too late, 
 Climb o'er the house t' unlock the little gate. 
 Kins:. Well, sit yon out : go home, Bir6n ; adieu ! 
 Biron. No, ray goj.l lord; I have sworn to stay 
 with you: 
 And, though I have for birbarism spoke more. 
 
 Thin fir thit angel knowledge you can say, 
 Yet conrtdent I'll kCc-p what I have swore. 
 
 And bide the penance of each three years" day. 
 Give me the paper, let me read the same ; 
 And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my nam". 
 King. How well this yielding rescues thee from 
 
 shame ! 
 Biron. [Rea;ls] Item, That no woman shall 
 come iviihin a mile of my court. — 
 And hath this been proclaim'd ! 
 
 Long. Four days ago. 
 
 Biron. Let's see tlie penalty. 
 \Rr.a<U.\ — On pain of losing tier tongue. — 
 
 Who devisd this ? 
 Long. Marry, that did I. 
 Biron. Sweet lord, and why T 
 Lirng. To fright them hence with tnat dread pe- 
 nalty. 
 Biron. A dangerous law against gentility. 
 [Hen fa.] Item, /^"ua;/ man be .seen totalkivilh 
 a woman ivitliin'the term, of tliree years, he shall 
 eniure such public, shame as the rest of the court 
 can possi'jly devise. — 
 This article, my liege, yourself must break; 
 
 For, well you know, here comes in embassy 
 The French kings daughter, with y,ourself to 
 speak, — 
 A maid of grace, and c6mplete majesty, — 
 About surrenler-up of Aquitain 
 
 To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father; 
 Therefore this article is mule in vain, 
 Or vainly comes the aduiircd princess hither. 
 King. \Vhat say you, lords^ why, this was quite 
 
 forgot. 
 Bi'-on. So study evermore is overshot ; 
 Wliile It doth study to have what it would, 
 It dnlh forget to do the thing it should : 
 And when'it hath the thing it hunteth most, 
 'Tis won, us towns with ti'e ; so won, so lost. 
 
 King. Wemustofforce. dispense with this decree; 
 She must lie* here on mere necessity. 
 Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn 
 Three thousand tim:s within this throe years' 
 space : 
 For every man with his affects is born ; 
 
 Not by miihl m ister'd, l)ut by special grace : • 
 If I break fiiith, this word shall speak for me, 
 I am forsworn on mere necessity. — 
 Soto the laws at large I write my name: [S'lbscribes. 
 
 And he, that breaks thiMii in the least degree, 
 Stands in attainder of eternal shame: 
 
 Suggestions^ are to others, as to me; 
 But, Ibelieve, although I seem so loath. 
 Am the last that will last keep his oath. 
 But is there no quick recreation granted ! 
 
 1 Nippiug. » llesiilo. " Temptations. 
 
 King. Ay, thai tiioie .s: our court, you know, is 
 haunted 
 
 Witli a refined traveller of .'■"pain ; 
 A mm ill all the world's new fishion planted, 
 
 Tliat hath a mint of plirascs in his brain : 
 One, whom the music of his own vain tongue 
 
 Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony ; 
 
 A man of compliments, wliom right and wrong 
 
 Have chose as unpire of their mutiny : 
 Tins child of fancy, that Annado hight,< 
 
 For interim to our .studies, sliiU relate. 
 In higli-born words, the worth of many a knight 
 
 Fro n t iwny Spain, lost in the world's debate. 
 How you delight, my lords, I know not, I ; 
 But, I protest, I love to hear him he. 
 And 1 will use him for my minstrelsy . 
 
 Biron. Annado is a most illustrious wight, 
 A man of tirc-ncw words, fasliions own knight. 
 
 Ling. Cost.ird the swain, and he, shall be our 
 sport : 
 And, so to study, three years is but short. 
 
 Enter Di-ll, with a letter, and CosTinu. 
 
 Dill. Which is the duke"s own person ? 
 Biron. This, fellow; What would'st 1 
 Dull. I myself reprehen.l his own person, for I 
 am his grai-e's tharborongh :> but I v\'0uld see his 
 own person in llesh and blood. 
 Biron. This is he. 
 
 D ill. Signior Arm.^—.Vrme— commends you.— 
 There"s villany abroad; this letter will tell you 
 more. 
 Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touch- 
 ing me. 
 King. \ lelh^r from the magnificent Annado. 
 Biriin. How low soever the matter, 1 hope in 
 Gori for high wor Is. 
 
 Long. \ high hojic for a low having : God grant 
 us patience ! 
 Biron. To liearl or forbear hearin.'T 
 Ling. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh mod- 
 erately ; or to forbear both. 
 
 Biron. Well, s;r, be it as the style shall give us 
 cause to climb in the merrincss. 
 
 Ci^t. The mitter is to me, sir, as concerning 
 Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken 
 with the manner.s 
 Biron. In what manner 1 
 
 Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all 
 these three: I was .seen witli her in the manor 
 house, sitting with her upon the form, andtiken 
 following her into the jiark; which, put togctlier, 
 is, in manner and form following. Now, sir. fir 
 the minner, — it is the manner of a man to speak 
 to a woman ; for the form, — in some form. 
 Biron. For the following, sirl 
 C'l^t. .Vs it shall follow in my correction ; and 
 God defend the right! 
 Kinx- Will you hear this letter with attentions 
 Biron. .\s we would hear an oracle. 
 Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to iiearkcn 
 after the fiesh. 
 
 King. \Reids.] Great depufi/, the ntellcin's vice- 
 gerent, and sole dootinator of Navarre, my soul's 
 earth's Gil, and hody's fostering patron, — 
 (_'«>/. Not a word of Costard yet. 
 King. S; it is,— 
 
 C'c/. It may be so : but if he s.iy it is so, he is, 
 in telling tine, but so, so. 
 King. Peace. 
 
 Cixt. — be to me, and every man that dares 
 not fii;ht! 
 King. No words. 
 
 (■(«/T — of other men's secrets, I beseech you. 
 King. So it is, beiicxed with sable-colored inel- 
 anch'ilii,! dil coinmrnd the black-oppressing hu- 
 mor to the most wholesome physic of Ih-i h-.allh- 
 giving air; and. as I am a gentleman, hctr.ok 
 mi/sef to nnilk. The t'lme when? A'lout the sijcth 
 hour 1 nt'ien beasts most graze, birds best peck, and 
 men sit donni to that nourishment which is called 
 supper. So mw.hfor the time when. Now for 
 the ground ivh'ich ; which, I mean. 1 walked upon; 
 it is oclrjied llvi park. Tien for the place where; 
 ndicre, I mean, I dii encounter that o'lscene, and 
 most p'-ep isterous event, tliot draweth from my 
 snou'-w'iite pen the ebon ■colo'-e I ink, U'hic'i here 
 thou viewed, beholdest, mrveoesl, or seest ; hut to 
 « Called. * i. fi. Thirl-borougb, a peace officer. 
 * 6 In the fact. 
 
136 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act L 
 
 the place, where,— II flan.ielh north-north-ccift and 
 bi/ eu:<t front the ice^t carntr if thy ctirwus-knot' 
 ted Kiirden: there did Ii>ee that low-spirited swain, 
 that base minnow of thy mirth, 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 King. — that unletter'd smalt-knowing soul, 
 
 Cast. Me. 
 
 King. — that shallow vassal. 
 
 Cost. Slill me. 
 
 Kiiff. — which, as I remember, higld Costard, 
 
 Cost. O me ! 
 
 King. — sorted and cojisoried, contrary to thy 
 establistied. proclaimed edict and continent canon, 
 Willi — with, — loith — but with tliis I passion to 
 say wherewith — 
 
 Cost. With a wench. 
 
 King. — with a child of our grandmother Eve. 
 a female; or, for thy more sweet ^inderstandm^, 
 a woman. Him I {as my ever-esteemed duty prick.'^ 
 7ne on) have sent to thee, to riceive the meed of 
 punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Antony 
 Dull; a man of ^ood repute, carnage, bearing, 
 uni (stimation. 
 
 Dull. Me, an't shall please you ; lam Antony 
 Dull. 
 
 King. For Jaquenetta, {fo is the weaker vessel 
 called", which , I apprehended with the aforesaid 
 swain,) I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury ; 
 and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring 
 her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted, 
 and heart-burning fteat of duty. 
 
 . Don AnitiANO De Arajiado. 
 
 Biron. Tliis is not so well as I looked for, but 
 the liost that ever I heard. 
 
 Kim:;. Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah. 
 wli.U s;i}- you to this ! 
 
 Cost. Sir, I confess the wench. 
 
 King. Did you hear the proclamation 
 
 Cost. I do confess mucli of the hearing it, but 
 little of the marking of it. 
 
 King. It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, 
 to be taken with a wench. 
 
 Cost. I was taken with none; sir, I was taken 
 with a damosel. 
 
 King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel. 
 
 Cost. This was no cfamosel neither, sir ; she was 
 a virgin. 
 
 King. It is so varied too; for it was proclaimed, 
 virgin. 
 
 Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity; I was 
 taken with a maid. 
 
 Kiiin- I'his maid will not serve your turn, sir. 
 
 Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. 
 
 King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence; You 
 shall last a week with bran and water. 
 
 Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton 
 and porridge. 
 
 King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. 
 My lord Bir6n, see him dehver'd o'er.— 
 
 And go we, lords, to put in practice that 
 Which each to otlier liath so strongly sworn. — 
 [E.veu7it King, LoNaAViLLE, and Dvm.kis. 
 
 Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, 
 These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. 
 — Sirrah, come on. 
 
 Cost. 1 sutfer for the truth, sir: for true it is, I 
 was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a 
 true girl; and therefore. Welcome the sour cup of 
 prosperity! Affliction may one d.ay smile again, 
 and till then, Sit thee down sorrow ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Armado's House. 
 Enter Ahmado and Motii. 
 
 Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of great 
 spirit irrows melancholy? 
 
 ilf'/Z/i. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. 
 
 Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-Sime 
 thing, dear imp. 
 
 Moth. -N'o, no; O lord, sir, no. 
 
 Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melan- 
 choly, my tender juvenaHi 
 
 Molh. By a fimiliar demonstration of the work- 
 ing, my tough senior. 
 
 Ami. Why tough senior 1 why tough senior? 
 
 Afotli. Wliy tender Juvenal ? why tender juvenal! 
 
 Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, ;is a congruent 
 cpithcton, appertaining to thy young days, which 
 we may nominate tender. 
 
 ' Youns man. 
 
 i\[otti. .\nd 1, tough senior, as an appertinent title 
 to your old tunc, which we may name tough. 
 
 Ann. Pretty and apt. 
 
 Moth. How mean you. sir? I pretty, and my 
 saying apt ! or, I apt, and my saying pretty ! 
 
 Arm. Thou pretty, because little. 
 
 Moth. Little pretty, because little : Wherefore apt ? 
 
 Arm. AnJ therefore apt. because quick. 
 
 Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master? 
 
 Arm. In tliy condign praise. 
 
 Motli. 1 will praise an eel with the same praise. 
 
 Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious? 
 
 Moth. That an eel is quick. 
 
 Arm. I do say, thou art quick hi answer: TJou 
 heatest my blood. 
 
 Moth. 1 am answered, sir. 
 
 Arm. I love not to be crossed. 
 
 Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses" love 
 not him. [Aside. 
 
 Arm. I have promised to study three years with 
 the duke. 
 
 Midli. You may do it in an hour, sir. 
 
 Arm. Impossilde. 
 
 Moth. How many is one thrice told '. 
 
 Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of 
 a tapster. 
 
 M'dh. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir. 
 
 Arm. I confess both ; they arc both the varnish 
 of a coinjilele man. 
 
 Motli. Then, I am sure you know how much 
 the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. 
 
 Arm It doth amount to one more than two. 
 
 Motli. Which the b.ase vulgar- do call three. 
 
 Arm. True. 
 
 Moth. W'hy. sir, is this such a piece of study ? 
 Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink: 
 and how easy it is to put years to the word tliree, 
 and study three years in two words, the dancing 
 Iiorse will tell you. 
 
 Arm. A most fine figure ' 
 
 Molh. To prove you a cijiher. {Ande. 
 
 Arm. I will hereupon confess. I am m love: and 
 as it IS base for a soldier to love, so am I in love 
 with a base wench. If drawing my sword against 
 the humor of affection would deliver me from the 
 reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prison- 
 er, and ransom him to any French courtier for a 
 new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh ; me- 
 thinks, 1 should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, 
 boj' : W^hat great men have been in love ? 
 
 Moth. Hercules, master. 
 
 Ar/n. Most sweet Hercules! — More authority, 
 dear hoy, name more ; and, sweet my child, let 
 them be men of good repute and carriage. 
 
 Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good 
 carriage, great carriage; for he carried the town- 
 gates on I is back, like a porter: and lie was in love. 
 
 Arm. well-knit Samson! rtroU-'-joiuted Sam- 
 son ! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou 
 didst me In carrying gates. I am in love too,— 
 Who was Samson's love, my dear moth? 
 
 Moth. A woman, master. 
 
 Arm. Of what complexion? 
 
 Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two ; or 
 one of the four. 
 
 Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion. 
 
 Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir. 
 
 Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? 
 
 Moth. As I have read, sir ; and tlie best of them 
 too. 
 
 Arm. Green, indeed, is the color of lovers: but 
 to have a love of that color, methinks, Samson had 
 small reason for it. He, surely, aBccted her for 
 her wit. 
 
 Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit. 
 
 Arm. My love is most immaculate white a;id red 
 
 Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are 
 masked under su^'li colors. 
 
 Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. 
 • Molh. My father's wit and my mother's tongue 
 a?sist me. 
 
 Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty 
 and pathetical! 
 
 Moth. If she be made of white and red, 
 Her faults will ne'er be known; 
 For blushing cheeks by fiults are bred, 
 
 And fears by pale white shown : 
 Tliin, if she fear, or he to blame. 
 By this you shall not know ; 
 
 • The name of a coin ouco current. 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 137 
 
 For ftill her checlis possess the same, 
 Wlii h native slie doth owe.' 
 A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of 
 white and red. 
 
 Ann. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and 
 the Beggar 1 . „ . 
 
 Moth. The world was very guilty of such a ballad 
 some three ages since: but, I think, now, 'tis not to 
 be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for 
 the writing nor the tune. - 
 
 Arm. I "will h.n-e the subject newly writ o'er, 
 that I may example my digression by some mighty 
 precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that 
 I took in the park with the rational hind. Costard ; 
 she deserves well. 
 
 Mnth. To be whipped ; and yet a better love than 
 my master. [.inde. 
 
 Arm. Sin?, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. 
 
 Molk. And that's great marvel, loving a light 
 wench. 
 
 Arm. I say, sing. 
 
 Moth. Forbear till this company be past. 
 
 Enter Dull, Cost-iiid, and JiauENETTA. 
 
 Dull. Sir, the duke's plea.sure is, that you keep 
 Costard safe : and you must let him talie no delight, 
 norno penance; but a' must fast three days a-week: 
 For this damsel I must keep her at tlie park ; she 
 is allowed for the day-woman." Fare you well. 
 
 Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. — Maid. 
 
 Jaq. Man. 
 
 Ann. I will visit thee at the lodge. 
 
 Jciq. That's hereby. 
 
 Arm. I know where it is situate. 
 
 Juq. Lord, how wise you are ! 
 
 Arm. I will tell thee wonders. 
 
 Jaq. With that face? 
 
 Arm. I love thee. 
 
 Juq. So I heard you say. 
 
 Arm. And so farewell. 
 
 Jaq. Fair weather after you ! 
 
 Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away. 
 
 [Exeunt Dull and JiauESETTA. 
 
 Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy oilences, ere 
 thou be pardoned. 
 
 Cust. Well, sir, I hope, when [ do it, I shall do it 
 on a full stomach. 
 
 Arm Thou shalt be heavily punished. 
 
 Cust. I am more bound to you than your fellows, 
 for they are but lightly rewarded. 
 
 .Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up. 
 
 Miith. Come, yon transgressing slave ; away. 
 
 Cos/. Let me not be pent up, sir; I wqll fast, be- 
 ing loose. 
 
 Moth. No, sir, that were fast and loose : thou 
 shalt to prison. 
 
 Vast. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of 
 des-^lation that I have seen, some shall see — 
 
 Miilh. What shall some see ! 
 
 Cust. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they 
 look up'on. It is not lor prisoners to be too silent 
 in their words ; and, therefore, I will say nothing : 
 I thank God, I have as little patience as another 
 man ; and, therefore, I can be quiet. 
 
 [Exeunt Moth and Costard. 
 
 Arm. I do affecf the very ground which is base 
 where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, 
 which is basest, doth tread, I shall be forsworn, 
 (which is a great argument of falsehood.) if I love: 
 .^nd how can that be true love, which is falsely 
 attempted ? Love is a fimiliar ; love is a devil : there 
 is no evil angel but love, 'i'et Samson was so 
 tempted; and he had an excellent strength: yet 
 was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very ?ood 
 wit. Cupids bult-sliaf[3 is too hard for Hercules' 
 club, and thereiore too much odds I'or a Spaniard's 
 rapier. The first and second cause will not serve 
 my turn ; the passado he respects not, the duello he 
 regards not : his disgrace is to be called boy ; hut 
 his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valor! rust, 
 rapier: be still, drum ! for your manager is in love; 
 yea. he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god 
 of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall turn sonnetteer. 
 Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole vol- 
 umes in folio. [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— .4 Pavilion and Tents at a distance. 
 
 Enter the Prixcess of France, Rosaline, Ma- 
 ria, Kathebine, Botet, Lords, and other At- 
 tendants. 
 
 Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest 
 spirits : 
 Consider who the king your father sends ; 
 To whom he sends; and what's his embassy : 
 Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem, 
 To parley with the sole inheritor 
 Of ail perfections that a man may owe. 
 Matchless Navarre ; the plea of no less weight 
 Than Aquitain; a dowry for a queen. 
 Be now as prodigal of all dear grace. 
 As nature was in making graces dear. 
 When she did starve the general world beside, 
 And prodigally gave them all to you. 
 Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty though but 
 mean, 
 Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; 
 Beauty is bought by judgment of "the eye. 
 Not utter'd by base sale of chanmens tongues: 
 I am less proud to hear you tell my worth. 
 Than you much willing to be counted vyise 
 In spending your wit in the praise of mine. 
 But now to task the tasker. — Good Boyet, 
 You are not ignorant, all-telling feme 
 Doth noise abroad Navarre halh made a vow. 
 Till painful study shall out-wear three years, 
 No woman may approach his silent court: 
 Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course, 
 Before we enter his forbidden gates. 
 To know his pleasure ; and, in that behalf, 
 Bold of your worthiness, we single you 
 As our best-moving fair solicitor: 
 Tell him, the daughter of the king of France, 
 
 • Of which she is naturally possessed. » Diury-womaii, 
 
 On serious business, craving quick despatch, 
 Imp^irtunes personal conference with his grace. 
 Haste, signify so much ; while we attend. 
 Like humblc-visag'd suitors, his high will. 
 
 Boyet. Proud of employment, wiUingly I go. 
 
 JExit. 
 
 Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. — 
 Wlio are the votaries, my loving lords. 
 That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke ? 
 
 1 Jjord. Longaville is one. 
 
 Prin. Know you the man 1 
 
 Mar. I know him, madam ; at a marriage feast. 
 Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
 (If .Taques Falconbridge solemnized. 
 In Normandy saw I this Longaville : 
 A man of sovereign parts he is esteera'd ; 
 Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms: 
 Nothing becomes him ill. that he would well. 
 The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, 
 (If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,) 
 Is a sharp wit matcli'd with too blunt a will ; 
 Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills 
 It should none spare that come within his power. 
 
 Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is'tsol 
 
 Mar. They say so most, that most his humors 
 know. 
 
 Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. 
 Who are the rest? 
 
 Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish d 
 youth. 
 Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd : 
 Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill* 
 For he hath wit to make an ill shape good. 
 And shape to win grace thoush he had no wit 
 I saw him at the duke Alen5on's once; 
 And much too little of that good 1 saw. 
 Is my report to his great worthiness. 
 
 s Love. 3 Arrows to shoot at butts with. 
 
138 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act 11 
 
 Ros. AnothPr of ll.esc students at tliat time 
 Was there " itli him : if I have heard a truth, 
 Bir6n tliey call hira ; Imt a merrier man. 
 Within the Mmit of bcenmni^ mirth, 
 I never spent an hour's talk witliai; 
 His eye hegets occasion for iiis wit; 
 For every object that tlie one doth catch, 
 The other turns to a mirth-movinfr jest; 
 Which his fair tonsue (conceit's expositor) 
 Dehvers in such apt and gracious words, 
 Tliat ased ears play truant at his tales. 
 And youn:j;er hearings are quite ravished; 
 So sweet and voluble is iiis discourse. 
 
 Prill. r,od bless my ladies! are they all in love, 
 That every one her own hath garnished 
 Willi sucli bedecking ornaments of praise? 
 
 Mar. Here comes Boyet. 
 
 Re-enter Botet. 
 Prin. Now, what admittance, lord 1 
 
 Biiiiet. Navarre hath notice of your fair approach ; 
 And he, and his competitors* in oath. 
 Were all address'd> to meet you, gentle lady. 
 Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt. 
 He rather means to lodge you in the field. 
 ' Like one that comes here to besiege his court,) 
 Tnan seek a dispensation for his oath, 
 To let you enter his unpeopled house, 
 /icre comes Navarre. {The ladies jnask. 
 
 r.nler King, Loscavilt-e. Dumain, BinoN, and 
 
 Attendunls. 
 
 King. Fair Princess, welcome \o the court of 
 
 Navarre. 
 Prin. Fair, 1 give you back again; and, welcome 
 have not yet: the roof of this court is too high to 
 ^e yours; and welcome to the wide tields too base 
 to be mine. 
 King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. 
 Prill. I will be welcome, then; conduct me 
 
 thither. 
 King. Hear me, dear lady ; I have sworn an oath. 
 Prin. Our lady help mv lord! he'll be forsworn. 
 King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. 
 Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing 
 
 else. 
 King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. 
 Priii. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise. 
 Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. 
 I hear, your grace hath sworn-out house-keeping : 
 'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, 
 Ana sin to break it: 
 But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold ; 
 To teach a teacher ill beseeincth me. 
 Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, 
 And suddenly resolve me in my suit. 
 
 [Gives a paper. 
 King. Madam. I will, if suddenly I may. 
 Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away ; 
 For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay. 
 Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ? 
 Rris. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ? 
 Biron. I know you did. 
 
 Ro.i. How needless was it then 
 
 To ask the question ! 
 Biron. You must not be so quick. 
 
 Ros. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such 
 
 questions. 
 Biron- Your wit'stoo hot, it speeds too fast,'twill 
 
 tire. 
 Rris. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 
 Biron. What time o' day ! 
 Ros. The hour that fools shall ask. 
 Biron. Now feir befall your mask ! 
 Ros. Fair fall the face it covers! 
 Biron. And send you nuny lovers! 
 Ros. Amen, so yoii be none. 
 Biron. Nay. then will 1 be gone. 
 King. Madam, your father here doth intimate 
 The payment of a hundred thousand crowns ; 
 Being but the one half of an entire sum, 
 Disbursed by my father in his wans. 
 But say, that he, or wc, {as neither have.) 
 lieceiv d that sum ; yet there remains unpaid 
 A hundred tliousand more; in surety of the which, 
 One part of Aquitain is bound to us, 
 ilthough not valued to the money's worth, 
 .f then the king your father will restore 
 
 « Confederati'S. • Prepared. 
 
 But that one half which is unsatisr-ed. 
 
 We will give up our rii:ht in Aquitain, 
 
 And hold fair friendship with his majesty. 
 
 But that, it seems, he little pnrposeth. 
 
 For here he doth demand to have repaid 
 
 A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, 
 
 On payment of a hundred thousand crowns. 
 
 To have his title live in Aquitain ; 
 
 Which we much rather had departs withal, 
 
 And have the money by our father lent, 
 
 Than Aquitain so gelded as it is. 
 
 Dear princess, were not his requests so far 
 
 From reason's yielding, your lair self should raako 
 
 A yielding, 'gainst some reason in my breast, 
 
 And go well satisfied to France a^^ain. 
 
 Prin. You do the kin? my father too much wrong, 
 And wrong the reputation of your name, 
 In so unseeming to confess receipt 
 Of that which hath so f\iithfully been paid. 
 
 King. I do protest, I never heard of it; 
 And, if you prove it, Fll repay it back, 
 Or yield up Aquitain. 
 
 Prin. We arrest your word:— 
 
 Boyet, you can produce acquittances. 
 For such a sum, from special officers 
 Of Charles his father. 
 
 King. Satisfy me so. 
 
 Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not 
 come. 
 Where that and other sjiecialties are bound ; 
 To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. 
 
 King. It shall suffice me : at which interview, 
 All liberal reason I will yield unto. 
 Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand, 
 As honor, without breach of honor, may 
 Make tender of thy true worthiness: 
 You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; 
 But here" without, you shall be so receiv'd. 
 As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, 
 Though so denied fair harbor in my house._ 
 Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell: 
 To-morrow shall we visit you again. 
 
 Prin. Sweet health andfair desires consort your 
 grace ! 
 
 King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place ! 
 \Exeunt King and his Train. 
 
 Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own 
 heart. 
 
 Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations ; I would 
 be glad to see it. 
 
 Biron. I would you heard it groan. 
 
 Ros. Is the fool sick ! 
 
 Biron. Sick at heart. 
 
 Ros. Alack, let it blood. 
 
 Biron. Would that do it good'! 
 
 Ros. Mv physic says, I.' 
 
 Biron. Will you prick't with your eye 1 
 
 Ros. No po?/n^' with my knife. 
 
 Biron. Now, God save thy life ! 
 
 Ros. And yours from lon^i living! 
 
 Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring. 
 
 Bum. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is 
 that same] 
 
 Boyet. The heir of Alen^on, Rosaline her name. 
 
 Diim. A gallant lady ! Monsieur, fare you well. 
 
 I Exit. 
 
 Long. I beseech you a word; What is she in 
 the white '! 
 
 Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in 
 the light. 
 
 Long. Perchance, light in the light; I desire her 
 name. 
 
 Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire 
 that were a shame. 
 
 Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughterl 
 
 Bn/et. Her mother's, I have heard. 
 
 Lnhg. God's blessing on your beard ! 
 
 Boyet. Good sir, be not nifended: 
 She is an heir of Falconbridire. 
 
 Ling. Nay, my choler is ended. 
 She is a most sweet lady. 
 
 Boyet. Not unlike, sir ; that may be. 
 
 [Exit LONO. 
 
 Biron. What's her name in the cap'! 
 Boyet. Katherine. my good hap. 
 
 Biron. Is she wedded or no T 
 
 Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. 
 
 Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu! 
 
 c Part. 1 Ay, yes. » A French particle of negatloib 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 139 
 
 Boyd. Farewell to mo, sir, and welcome to you. 
 \Exit Unioy.—L'idies uni/uisk. 
 Mar. That last is Hiron, the merry mad-cap lord ; 
 Kot a word with him but a je.-t. 
 Buyet. And every jest but a word. 
 
 Prin. It was well done of you to take him at 
 
 his word. 
 Bayet. I was willing to grapple, as he was to 
 
 board. 
 Mar. Two hot shceps, marry ! 
 Boi/ef. And wherefore not ships ! 
 
 No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. 
 Mar. You sheep, and I pasture ; Shall that tin- 
 
 ish the jest ? 
 Hoyel. So you grant pasture for me. 
 
 [^Offerinij to Ixiss her. 
 Mar. Not so, gentle beast; 
 
 My lips are no common, though several* they be. 
 Boyet. Belon;;ing to whom ! 
 Mar. To my fortunes and me. 
 
 Prin. Good wits will be jangling : but, gentles, 
 agree; 
 The civil war of wits were much better used 
 On Navarre and his bookmen; for here 'tis abased. 
 Boyd. If my observation, (which very seldom 
 lies.) 
 By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes, 
 Deceive me not now. Navarre is infected. 
 Prill. With what? 
 
 Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. 
 Prill. Your reason ! 
 
 Boi/et. Why all his behaviors did make Iheir retire 
 To tlie court of his eye, peeping thorough desire : 
 
 His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, 
 Proud with his fj.ni. in his eye pride expressed : 
 His tongue all impatient to speak and not see. 
 Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be ; 
 .\ll senses to that sfnse did make their repair, 
 To leel only looking i^n fairest of fair: 
 Methought, ail his senses were locked in his eye, 
 .\s jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ; 
 Who, tendering their own worth, from where they 
 
 were glass'd. 
 Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. 
 His face's own margent did quote such amazes, 
 That all eyes saw his eyes enclianted with gazes : 
 I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his. 
 An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. 
 
 Prill. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dispos'd — 
 
 Boyet. But to speak that in words, wliich his 
 eye hath disclos'd : 
 I only have made a mouth of his eye. 
 By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. 
 
 Ros. Thnu art an old love-monger, and speak'st 
 skilfully. 
 
 Mai . He is Oupid'sgrandlather, and learns newa 
 of him. 
 
 Ros. Then was Venus like her mother ; for her fa- 
 ther is but grim. 
 
 Bni/el. Do you hear, my mad wenches! 
 
 Mar. No. 
 
 Bni/et. What then, do 5'ou seel 
 
 Rn's. Ay, our way to be gone. 
 
 Boyet. You are too hard for me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — The Park, near the Palace. 
 Enter Aiimabo and Moth. 
 Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense 
 
 of hearing. 
 Moth. CuiicoliJiel [Singing. 
 
 Arm. Sweet air! — (!o, tenderness of years; take 
 this key, give enlareement to the swain, briui him 
 festinatclyi hither; I must employ him in a letter 
 to my love. 
 
 Moth. Master, will you win your love with a 
 French brawl N 
 
 Arm. How mean'st thou T brawling in French! 
 
 Moth. No. my complete master: but (g jig off 
 a tune at the tongue's end, canary' to it with \ our 
 feet, humor it with turning up your cye-liris; sigh 
 a note and sing a note; somitiinc through the 
 throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love ; 
 sometime through the nose, as if you snutTed up 
 love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse- 
 like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms 
 crossed on your thin belly-do'uhlet, like a rabbit on 
 a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man 
 after the old painting; and keep not too long in 
 one tune, but a snip and away : These are com- 
 plements, these are humors; these betray nice 
 wenches — that would be betrayed without these; 
 and make them men of note (do you note, men?) 
 that are most affected to these. 
 
 Ann. How bast thou purchased this experience 1 
 
 Mnth. By mv jienny of observation. 
 
 Arm. But I),— but I),— 
 
 Molh- — the hobby-horse is for?ot. 
 
 Arm. Callestthou mv love, hobby-horsd 
 
 Moth. No master ; the hobliy-horse is but a colt; 
 and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you 
 forgot your love 1 
 
 Arm. Almost I had. 
 
 Molh. Negligent student, ! learn her by heart 
 
 Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy. 
 
 Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three 
 I will prove. 
 
 Ann. What will that prove 1 
 
 Moth. A man, if I live; and thi3, by, in, and 
 without, upon the instant: By heart you love her, 
 • A quibble, several signifie'l unenclosed lands. 
 I H.'U'.tily. 1 A kind rif dance. 
 
 » Canary was the name of a .=prightly dance. 
 
 because your heart cannot come by her: in heart 
 you love her, because your heart is in love with 
 her: and out of heart you love her, being out of 
 licart that you cannot enjoy her. 
 
 Arm. I am all these Ibre'e. 
 
 Moth. And three times as much more, and yet 
 nothing at all. 
 
 Arm. Fetch hither the swain ; he must carry ma 
 a letter. 
 
 Moth. A message well sympathised ; a horse to 
 be ambassador for an ass ! 
 
 Ann. Ha, ha ! what sayest thou 1 
 
 Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon 
 the horse, for he is very slow gaited : But I go. 
 
 Ann. The way is biit short; away. 
 
 Moth. As swift as lead, sir. 
 
 Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? 
 Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? 
 
 Moth. Mi/a/" f. honest master; or rather, master,no. 
 
 Ann. I say, lead is slow. 
 
 Moth. You are too swift, sir, to say so: 
 
 Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun ? 
 
 Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric: 
 He reputes me a cannon ; and the bullet, tliat's he:— 
 I slioot thee at the swain. 
 
 Moth. Thump then, and I flee. 
 
 '.Exit. 
 
 Arm. A most acute juvenal ; voluble and free of 
 grace ! 
 By thy favor, sweet welkin. I must sigh in thy face: 
 Most rude melancholy, valor gives tliee place. 
 My herald is return'd'. 
 
 Re-enter Moth and Costattti. 
 Moth- A wonder, master ; here's a costard* bro- 
 ken in a shin. 
 Arm. Some eniifnia, some riddle : come, — thy 
 
 I'enroi/ ; — be^in. 
 
 Cost. No egma, no riddle, no V envoy ;' no salve 
 
 in the mail, sir : (), sir, plantain, a plain plantain : 
 
 no [envoy, no I'envny no salve, sir, but a plantain! 
 
 Ann. By virtue, thou enforcest laugliter; thy 
 
 silly thought, my spleen ; the heaving of my lungs 
 
 provokes me to ridiculous smiling : O, pardon me, 
 
 * A hea<l , 
 
 s An old French term for concluding ver.=ips, which 
 served either to convey the moral, or to address the poem 
 to some person. 
 
140 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 my stars! Doth the iiiconsideralc take salve for 
 I'envoi/j and the word, l^envai/^ tor a salve] 
 
 Mulk. Do the wise tliiiik them otlierl is not 
 Venvuij a salve ' 
 Ann. No, pase: it is an epilogue or discourse 
 to make plain 
 Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. 
 I will example it. 
 
 The lox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
 Were still at odds, bein;; but three, 
 Tiiere'ii the moral : Now the ('envoi/. 
 Mulh. 1 will add the I'mvoi/: Say the moral again. 
 Anil. The fox, the ape, aiid the humble-bee, 
 
 Were stdl at odds, being but three : 
 Moth. Untd the goose come out of door, 
 
 .\nd stay'd the odds by adding four. 
 Now will I begin your moralj and do you follow 
 with my renvoi/. 
 
 The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee. 
 Were still at odds, being but three: 
 Arm. Until the goo.se camr out or<loor, 
 Staying the odds by aildnig li^ur. 
 Moth. A good C envoi/, endiiig in the goose: 
 Would you desire morel 
 
 Cu^t. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, 
 
 that's Mat:— 
 
 Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.-- 
 
 Tosella bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose: 
 
 Let me see a fat renvoi/ ; ay, that's a fat goose. 
 
 Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this 
 
 argument begin \ 
 Moth. By saying that a Costard, was broken in a 
 shin. 
 Then call d you for the I'envny. 
 Cost. True, and I for a plantain : Thus came 
 your arguTuent in ; 
 Then the boy's fat i' envoy, the goose tliat you 
 
 bouiiht; 
 And he ended the market. 
 
 Avni. But tell rae ; how was there a Costard 
 >roken in a shin I 
 Moth. I wUl tell you sensibly. 
 Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth ; I will 
 speak that I'envoy .- 
 
 I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, 
 Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. 
 Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. 
 ost. Till there be more matter in the shin. 
 Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise tliee. 
 Cost. (), marry me to one Frances: — I smell 
 some renvoi/, some goose, in this. 
 
 Arm. By my .sweet soul, I mean, setting thee 
 at liberty, enfreedoniing thy person; thou wert 
 immured, restrained, captivated, bound. 
 
 Cost. True, true; and now you will be my pur- 
 gation, and let me loose. 
 
 Arm. I give thee tliy liberty, set thee from dur- 
 ance; and. in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing 
 but this: Bear this signiticant to the country maid 
 Jaquenetta : there is remuneration; [Givim; liim 
 money.] for the best ward of mine honor, is re- 
 wardinsr my dependants. Moth, follow. [IljcU. 
 Moth. Like the sequel, I. — Signior Costard, adieu. 
 Cost. My sweet ounce ot man's flesi] ! my in- 
 cony Jew ! — [Exit Morn. 
 Now will I look to his remuneration. Remunera- 
 tion ! O, that's the latin word for three fiirthings: 
 three farthings — remuneration. — What's the price 
 (if Mis inkle? apenni/ : — No. Fit give you a re- 
 tnuneralion: why, it carries it. — Remuneratio i ! — 
 
 Why, it is a fiirer aauu' than Krench crown. I will 
 never buy and sed out of uns word. 
 
 Knter IWuoy. 
 
 Biroii. O, my good knave, Co.4tard! csce._'dinslv 
 well met. ° ■' 
 
 Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon 
 may a- man buy for a reuiuneral;on { 
 
 Biron. What is a remuneration f 
 
 Cost. Marry, sir, hall-i.emiy i;irthing. 
 
 Biron. (),why then, lliree-larlhings-worth of silk. 
 
 Cost. I thank your worship : God be with you I 
 
 Biron. O, stay, slave ; 1 nmst employ thee : 
 As thou wilt will my favor, good my knave, 
 Do one thing for me that 1 shall entreat. 
 
 Cost. When would you have il done, sir ? 
 
 Biron. <), this allernnon. 
 
 Cost. Well, 1 will do it, sir: Fare you well. 
 
 Biron. u, thou knowest not what it is. 
 
 Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. 
 
 Biron. Why, villain, thou nmst know tirst. 
 
 Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow 
 morning. 
 
 Birun. It must be done this afternoon. Hailt, 
 slave, it is but this; — 
 
 The princess comes to hunt here in the park. 
 And 111 her train there is a gentle lady; 
 When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her 
 
 name, 
 .A.nd Rosaline they call her: ask for her ; 
 And to her white hand see thou do commend 
 ■f his seal'd up counsel. There's thy guerdon ;' go. 
 
 ^ , „ J [Give's him money. 
 
 tost. Guerdon,— O sweet guerdon! better than 
 remuneration: eleven-pence fa rtiiing better : Most 
 sweet guerdon ! — 1 will do it, sir, in print." — Guer- 
 don — remuneration. | £.)!/. 
 
 Biron. (l! — And I, forsooth, in love! I, that 
 have been love's whip; 
 A very beadle to a humorous sigh ; 
 A critic; nay, a night-watch constable; 
 A domineering pedant o'er the boy, 
 rhan whom no mortal so magnificent! 
 This whimpled," whining, purblind, wayward boy ; 
 This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid: 
 Regent of love-rhymes, lord of tbldod arms, .' 
 The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
 Liege of all loiterers and malcontents. 
 Dread prince of plackets,' king of codpieces. 
 Sole imperator, and great general 
 Of trottin'' paritors,»— my little heart! — 
 And I to be a corporal of his held. 
 And wear his colors like a tumbler's hoop I 
 What ? I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wile f 
 A woman, that is like a German clock. 
 Still a repairing ; ever out of frame ; 
 And never going aright, being a watch, 
 But being watch'd that it may still go right! 
 Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all; 
 .\nd, among three, to love the worst of all; 
 A whitely wanton witii a velvet brow. 
 With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; 
 .\y, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed. 
 Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard 
 And I to sigh for her ! to watch for her ! 
 To pray for her ! Go to ; It is a plague 
 That Cupid will impose for my neglect 
 (If his almighty dreadful little might. 
 Well, I will love, write, sigh, prav, sue, and groan; 
 Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. 
 
 lE.vil. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— .4 Pavilion in tlie Park. 
 Enter the Piiixces=i, Rosai.ink, Maria, Katiia- 
 nixF., BoYET, Lords, Attendant.s, and a For- 
 ester. 
 
 Prin. Was that the king, that spurred his horse 
 so hard 
 Against the .sleep uprising nf the 111111 
 Boi/il. I know not; but 1 think, il was not he. 
 frin, Wlio'er he was, he sliow'd a mounting 
 mind. 
 " llelightfal. 
 
 Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch: 
 (in Saturday we will return lo France.— 
 Then, foresler, my friend, wdiere is the bush. 
 That we must stand and play the murderer in? 
 
 For, Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; 
 ,\ slaiid, where you may make the fairi'.st shoot. 
 
 Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot 
 And thereupon thou spcak'st, the fairest shoot. 
 
 ' n,-w;ircl. » ^Vilh tlm utmost .■■xnctiiL'Ss. 
 
 " Iloo.led, veiled. ■ I'ttticoats. 
 
 ' Tlic officers of the spiritual courts who scttl' citations. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 141 
 
 Fur. Pardon me, m;idinn, fur I ineuiil not so. 
 
 Prin. What, wtiiu! lirst praise me, and again 
 say, no I 
 short-Iivd pride! Not f.iir? alack for woe! 
 
 Far. Ves, inaJaiii, fair. 
 
 Pri?i. Nay, never paint me now; 
 
 Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. 
 Here, good my glass, take this for teliin;^ true; 
 
 [Giving him money, 
 Fair payment for foul words is more tlian due. 
 
 For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. 
 
 Prin. See, see, my beauty will be savM by merit. 
 heresy in fair, fit fnr these days! 
 A giving hand, though foul, shall have f.iir praise.— 
 But come, the bow: — Now mercy giws to kill, 
 And shouting well is then accounted ill. 
 Thus will I save my credit in the shoot; 
 Not woundnig, pity would not let me do't; 
 If wounding, then it was to show my skill, 
 That more for i>raiso, than purpose, meant to kill. 
 And, out of question, so it is sometimes; 
 Glory grows guilty of detested crimes; 
 When, for fame s sake, for praise, an outward part, 
 We bend to that the working of the heart ; 
 As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill 
 The poor deers blood, that my heart means no ill. 
 
 Boyel. Do not curst wives hold that self-sove- 
 reii^nty 
 Only for praise* sake, when they strive to be 
 Lords o'er their lords ! 
 
 Prin, Cnly for praise: and praise we may afford 
 To any lady that subdues a lord. 
 
 Enter Costaud. 
 
 Prin. Here comes a member of the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Cost. God dig-you-den' all! Pray yoa, which 
 is the head lady ! 
 
 Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest 
 that have no heads. 
 
 Cost. Which is tlie greatest lady, tlie Iiighest? 
 
 Prin. The thickest, and the tallest. 
 
 Cost* The thickest, and the tallest ! it is so; truth 
 is truth. 
 An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit. 
 One of these maids' girdles for your waist should 
 
 bo lit. 
 Are not you the chief woman? you are the thick- 
 est here. 
 
 Prin. Wliafs-your will, sir ? what's your will '! 
 
 Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, to one 
 lady Rosaline. 
 
 Prin. ft, "thy letter, thy letter ; he's a good friend 
 of mine : 
 Stand aside, good bearer. — Boyet, you can carve; 
 Break up this capon. 
 
 Boyet. I am bound to serve. — 
 
 This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; 
 It is writ to Jaquenetta. 
 
 Prin. We will read it, I swear: 
 
 Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. 
 Boyet. [Reads.] By fieaven^ that tfiou art fair, 
 is most infallible ; true, ffiat tfiou art htaiiteuas ,- 
 irutti itself, f/iat tlu^u art lovely : More f/h-cr tfuin 
 fitir, bcaufifuf t/tan heauteoits, truer lluin truth 
 itself, iiave'conimbieratuni on thy heroicul vassal! 
 The magnanimous and most illustrate kinf^ Co- 
 jihetua *f/ eye upon the pernicious and indubitate 
 /)CK'i:ar Zenelophon ; and he it ivas that mi^ht 
 ri.^hth/ saj/y veni, vidi, viri; which, to anatomize 
 in the vulgar, {0 base and obscure futgar.') vide- 
 licet, Ac a////p, san% and overcame: tie came, one.- 
 saw, two; overcame, three. IVho came? ttteliing: 
 U'hij did he come? to see: Why did he see? to 
 overcome: To ichom camt he? to tlie beggar: 
 IVfiat saw he? the beggar: iVlto overcame he? the 
 beggar : the concLusiAm is victory.- On whose side? 
 the king's: The captive is enriched; On tvhose 
 side? the beggar's: The catastrophe w a nuptial; 
 On whose side? the king^s? — no, oti both in one 
 or one in both, lam the king; for so stands the com- 
 parisn7i: thou the beggar; jur so witnesseth thif 
 Inirliness. Shall I command iti>( luve ? I niati: 
 S'laU [enforce thy Urn? I could: Shull I entrfat 
 thy liwe? 1 will. Wliat shalt tfutn earhange for 
 rags? robes; For tittles, titles; For thyself, mc. 
 Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lipv on tliy 
 foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my fieart on thy 
 every part. 
 
 ' God give you good even. 
 
 2'hinc, in the dearest detign (find tstry, 
 
 D(l\ AUIII.VNO ItK All>lADO. 
 
 Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lien roar 
 
 'Gainst tlu-e. thmi lamb, that sianUcst as his prey; 
 Submissive lallhisprincelyteet before, 
 
 And lie from tbrage will incline to play : 
 Hut if lliou slrivf, poor soul. vv!,at ait ihou then ! 
 Food for h s rage, repuslure for his den. 
 P?-in. What plume of feathers is he, tliat indited 
 this letter ! 
 What vane '. what weathercock ! did you ever hear 
 better 1 
 Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the 
 
 style. 
 Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it 
 
 crowhiU'.* 
 Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps 
 here in court ; 
 A phantasm, aMonarcho, and one that makes sport 
 To the prince, and Ins book-mates. 
 
 Prin. Thou, fellow, a word . 
 
 Wlio gave thee this letter ! 
 Cott. I told you ; my lord. 
 
 Prin. To whom shouldst tliou ^ive it! 
 Cost. From my lord to my lady. 
 
 Prin. From which lord, lo wliich lady ! 
 Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of 
 mine, 
 To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline. 
 Prin. Thou hast mistaken this letter. Come, 
 lords, away. 
 Here, sweet, put up this; 'Iwill be thine another 
 day. {Exit Princess and Train. 
 
 Boyet. \\ ho is tlie suitor ! who is the suitor! 
 Has. Shall I teach you to know? 
 
 Boyet. Ay, my continent of beautj'. 
 Ro's. Why, she that l-ears the bow. 
 
 Finely put off! 
 Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou 
 marry, 
 Han^ me by tlie neck, if horns that year miscarry. 
 Finely i>ut on ! 
 Ros. Well then, I am tlie shooter. 
 Boyet. And wlio is your deer? 
 
 Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself : come 
 near. 
 Finely put on, indeed ! 
 Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she 
 
 strikes at the brow. 
 Bryet. But she herself is hit lower: Have 1 hit 
 
 her now ! 
 Ros. Shall 1 come upon thee with an old saying, 
 that was a man when king Pepin of France was a 
 little hoy, as touching the hit it ! 
 
 Bouet. So I may answer thee with one as old, 
 that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain 
 was a little wench, as touelnng the hit it. 
 Ros. Tluai canst ntd hit it. hit it, liit it; [Singing. 
 
 Ttiou canst not hit it, my good tnan* 
 Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, 
 An I cannot, another can. 
 
 [Exeunt Uos. and Kath. 
 Cost. By my troth, most ple.asant! how both did 
 
 tit it! 
 I^far. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both 
 
 did hit It. 
 Boyet. A mark ! O, mark but that mark; A mark, 
 says my lady ! 
 Lei the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it 
 may be. 
 'Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! Tfaith, your hand 
 
 is (Hit. 
 
 Cost. Indeed, a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er 
 
 hit the cliHil. 
 Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your 
 
 hand is in. 
 Cost. TJien will she get the upshot by cleaving 
 
 the pin. 
 Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips 
 
 grow foul. 
 Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; chal- 
 
 lenjie her to bowl. 
 Boyet. I tear too much rubbing; Good night, my 
 
 good owl. I Exeunt Botkt and Maria. 
 
 Cost. By my soul, a swain ! a most simple clown ! 
 
 Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him 
 
 down ! 
 0' my troth, most sweet jest ! most incony vulgar 
 
 wit! 
 
 * Just now. 
 
142 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 When it comes so smootiily Oif, so obscenely, as it 
 
 were, so lit. 
 Armatho o" the one side, — 0, a nio^t diiinty man ! 
 To see liim walk belore a iady, and to bear her ian ! 
 To see hiiii iiiss his hand! and how most sweetly 
 
 a" will swear ! — 
 And his page o' t'otlier side, tliat handlul of wit! 
 Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit ! 
 Sola, sola ! \S,'ioutins: within. 
 
 [Exit CosTAiiD, running. 
 
 SCENE Ih— The name. 
 Enter HoiorEnxEs, Sic Nathasiei,, anlDvr.x.. 
 
 Nttth. Very reverent sport, truly ; and done in 
 the testimony of a tiood conscience. 
 
 Hot. The deer was, as you know, in Sanctis, — 
 blood; ripe as a pomewatcr,' wlio now han^'Oth like 
 a jewel m the ear of calo,—the sky, the welkin, 
 the heaven ; and anon falletli like a crab, on the 
 face o{ terra, — the soil, the land, the earth. 
 
 Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are 
 sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least; liut, sir, 
 1 assure ye. it was a buck of tlie tirst head.s 
 
 Hot. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. 
 
 Didl. ^Twas not a huud cre<ln. 'twas a pricket. 
 
 Hot. Most barbarous intimation ! yet a kind of 
 ins'iiualion as it were, in via, in way, of explica- 
 tion ; facer. &^ it were, rephcatinn, or, ratlier o.v/- 
 entart. to show, as it were, his inclination, — after 
 his undressed, unpolislicd, uneducated, unpruned, 
 untrained, or rather unlelterd, or, ratherest, un- 
 confirmed fashion,— to insert again my haud credo 
 for a deer. 
 
 Ditl. I said, the deer was not a haud. credo; 'twas 
 a pricket. 
 
 Hut. Twice sort simplicity, 6w cactus ! — thou 
 monster isnorance. how deformed dost tliou look! 
 
 N dh. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that 
 are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper, as it 
 were ; he hath not drunk ink ; Ids intellect is not 
 replenished' he is only an animal, only sensible 
 in the duller parts; 
 And such barren plants are set Ijefore us, thai we 
 
 thankful should he 
 (Which we of taste and feehni; are) for those parts 
 
 that do fructily in us more than he. 
 For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, 
 
 or a fool. 
 So, were there a patch' set on learning, to see him 
 
 in a school: 
 But, omne ftCHe, say I ; beins of an old father's mind. 
 Mum/ can broolctlie iceattier.t fiul tove 7wt the wind. 
 
 Dull. You two are bookmen: Can you tell by 
 your wit, 
 What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not 
 five weeks old as yet? 
 
 Hoi. Dictynna, good man Dull ; Dictynna, good 
 man Dull. 
 
 Dull. What is Dictynna'! 
 
 Nath. A title to Phcehe, to Luna, to the moon. 
 
 Hoi. The moon was a month old, when Adam 
 was no more ; 
 And raushts not to five weeks, when he come to 
 
 fivescore. 
 The allusion holds in the excliange. 
 
 Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion liolds in 
 the exchange. 
 
 Hil. flod comfort thy capacity ! I say, tlie allu- 
 sion holds in the exchan;;e. 
 
 Dull. And 1 say the pollution holds in the ex- 
 clian:^e; for the moon is never but a month old; 
 and 1 say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the prin- 
 cess killd. 
 
 Hd. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal 
 epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humor 
 thi' ignorant, I have call'd tiie deer the princess 
 killira pricket. 
 
 N.ith. Peri^c, good master flolofernes, perge ; 
 so it shall please you to abroi;ate scurrility. 
 
 Hul. I will something affect the letter; for it 
 argues lacility. 
 
 * A spcries of applp. 
 
 eTorcndi-T som« of the allusions in this scene intel- 
 ligible to persons who arc not nr<iuainted with the lan- 
 cuag'' of ]iarl< -keepers and foresti-rs, it may he necessary 
 to nn.'ntion, that a fawn, when it is a year o'd, is called 
 by them a piicket; when it is two years old, it is a sorel ; 
 when it is three years old. it is a sore: when it is four 
 years, it isabuek of the fir-t head; at five years, it is an 
 old luik. ' A low fellow « 'Ueaehed. 
 
 Tlie praisfful princess picrc\l and prick'd a pretty 
 pttufiiiig prictici ; 
 
 Some nuy a sure; but nut a sore, till now made 
 sui-e with shi.otii g. 
 The dogs dit yell; put L lo sore, llien sorel Jumps 
 from thicliet; 
 
 Or pricket. .<,ore, or else sorel; the people fall a 
 ' hooting. 
 If sore, he sore, then L to sore makes f ft ii sores; 
 
 O sore L.' 
 Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but 
 one /inire L. 
 
 Nath. A rare talent ! 
 
 Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he daws 
 him with a talent. 
 
 Hoi. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple, 
 a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, 
 shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions^, motions, revo- 
 lutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, 
 nourished in the womb of pia muter; and deliver u 
 upon the mellowing of occasion: liut the gift is 
 gooa in those in whom it is acute, and 1 am thank- 
 ful for it. 
 
 Nath. Sir, 1 praise the Lord for you ; and so may 
 my parishioners ; for their sons are well tutor'd by 
 you, and their daughters profit very greatly under 
 you : you are a good meinber of tlie coinmonwerdth. 
 
 Hoi. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they 
 shall want no instruction: if their daughters he ca- 
 pable, I will put It to tliem : Dut, tir snjnt, qui 
 pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. 
 
 Enter jAavEXKTTA and CosTAnr. 
 Jnq. God give you good morrow, master parson. 
 Hut. Master person, — quaM pers-on. And if one 
 should be pierced, which is the one? 
 
 Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is 
 likest to a hogshead. 
 
 Hoi. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of 
 conceit in a turf of earth : fire enough for a Hint, 
 pearl enough for a swine; 'tis pretty; it is well. 
 
 Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as read me 
 this letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent 
 me tVom Don Armatho; 1 beseech you, read it. 
 Hoi. Fauste, precor gelidu quando pecus omne 
 sub umbra, 
 Ruminat.^and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan ; 
 I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice ! 
 
 Vhifgjci, Vinegia, 
 
 Ch i non te rede, ei non fe pregia. 
 Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Wlio understandeth 
 thee not, loves thee not.— C7, re, sol. la. mi,fa. — 
 Under pardon, sir, %vhat are the contents? or,rather, 
 as Horace says in his— Wliat, my soul, verses? 
 Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. 
 Hoi. Let me hear a statT, a stanza, a verse ; Lege, 
 domine. 
 Nath. [Reads.] 7f Mre make me forsu:crm^ow 
 
 shall I swear to love? 
 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to heautt/ vowed .' 
 Though to myself forsworn, to tliee rtifaitliful 
 prove; 
 Those thoughts to me wer: oaks, to thee like 
 osiers boioed. 
 Rtiiduhis bias leaves, and make his bookthineeyes; 
 Where all those pleasures lice, tlial art would 
 comprehend: 
 Ifknoicledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice ■ 
 Well teamed is that tongue, that welt can thee 
 commend: 
 All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without won- 
 der; 
 ( Which is to me some praise, thai 1 thy parts 
 admire;) 
 Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dread- 
 ful thunder, 
 Wtiirh not tn anger bent, is music, and sweet fire. 
 Celestial, as thou art, oh /lardon, love, thh wrong. 
 That sings heai-en's praise with. such an earth'u 
 timgiie! 
 Hoi. You" find not the apostrophe, and so miss 
 the accent; let me supervise the canzonet. Hero 
 are only numbers ratified; hut for the elejancy, 
 facility, and ijolden cadenceof porsy.corf/. (Ividius 
 Naso was the man ; and why, indeed, Naso ; but 
 f ir smeUinir out the odoriferous liovvcrs of fancy 
 the jerks of invention ? [milari. is nothing ; so dotli 
 the bound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired' 
 horses his rider. But daniosella virgin, was this 
 directed to you ? •> Attired, caparisoned. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 143 
 
 Jcq. Ay. s;r. i>i>rn one monsieur Biron, one of 
 the slianjie queen s itH-ds. 
 
 Hoi. I will over^hinoc tlie superscript. To tht 
 snow-while hniiilif Ike must lieuuteous Lady 
 Rosaline. I will lool< asain on the intellect of the 
 letter, for the nomination of the party writing to 
 the person written unto: 
 
 Your ladyship's in all dciired employment, 
 
 {Jinoy. 
 Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with 
 the king ; and here he hath framed a letter to a 
 sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, 
 or oy the way of progression, hath miscarried. — 
 Trip and go, my sweet ; deliver this paper into the 
 royal hand of the king ; it may concern much : Slay 
 no't thy complinienl : 1 forgive tliy duty ; adieu. 
 
 Jiiq. Good Costard, go with me. — yir, God save 
 your iile ! 
 
 Cost. Have with thee, my girl. 
 
 [Kxciint Cost, and J»a. 
 
 Nalh. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, 
 very religiously, and. as a certain father saith 
 
 Hoi. Sir. tell not me of Ihe father, I do fear co- 
 lorable colors. Uul, to return to the verses; Did 
 they please you, sir Kalliaiiiel'! 
 
 Nalh. Marvellous well for the pen. 
 
 Hil. I do dine to-dav at the lather's of a certain 
 pnpil of mine ; where if, before repast, it shall please 
 you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my 
 privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid 
 child or pupil, undertake your ben venulo; where 
 I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, 
 neither savoring of poetry, wit, nor invention; I 
 beseech your society. 
 
 Ao/A. And thank you too: for society, (saith 
 the text.) IS the happiness of life. 
 
 H(d. And. cerles,' the text most inflillibly con- 
 cludes it.— Sir, [Tu Dull.) I do invile you too; 
 you shall not say me, nay : pauca verba. Away ; 
 the gentles are at their game, and we will to our 
 recreation. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \U.— Another part tif the Park. 
 Enter Bmox, icilh a paper. 
 Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am 
 coursing myself: they have pilcifil a toil; I am 
 toiling In a pitch; pitch the defiles; defile I afoul 
 word. Well, set thee down, sorrow ! for so, they 
 say, the fool said, and so say 1, and I the fool. — 
 Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad 
 as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: Well 
 proved again on my side ! I will not love: if I do, 
 nang me; i'faith. 1 will not. 0, but her eye,— b> 
 this light, but for her eye. 1 would not love her; 
 yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in Ihe 
 world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I 
 do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be 
 melancholy ; and here is part of my rhyme, and 
 here my melancholy. Well, she liath one o' my son- 
 nets already ; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and 
 the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest 
 lady ! By the world, I would not care a pin if the 
 other three were in : Here comes one with a paper; 
 God give him grace to groan ! 
 
 {Gels up into a tree. 
 Enter the King, with a paj^er. 
 
 King. Ah me! 
 
 Biron. I Aside.] Shot, by heaven! — Proceed, sweet 
 Cupid; thou hast thump d him with thy bird-bolt 
 under the left pap: — Ifaith secrets. — 
 
 King. [Reads.] So swcel a lass Ihe golden snn 
 gives not 
 
 To Ihusc fresh morninf^ drops xipnn Ihe rose 
 As thy eye-beams, when Ikeir fresh rays have smote 
 
 The night of dew thai on my cliecks down flows: 
 Nor shines Ihe silver moon one half so bright 
 
 TItrough ihe transparent bosom if Ihe died. 
 As doth thy fore thrimgh tears if mine give light ; 
 
 Thou shin'st in irerii tear that 1 do weep: 
 No drop, but as a couch dalh caiTy iliee. 
 
 So riilcsf Ihou lririii;jihing in my woe,' 
 Do but iHhold Ihe tears that stoell in me. 
 
 And theii thy glory through my grief will show. 
 Bui do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep 
 My tears for gkisses. and still make me weep. 
 Queen tf queens, hiucfur dost thou excel/ 
 No thought eon think, nio- tongue if mortal tell. 
 I In truth. 
 
 How, shall she know my griefs ! I'll drop the paper 
 Sweet leaves, shaite loilj. Who is he comes here! 
 
 [Steps aaide. 
 Enter Longaville, with a paper. 
 What Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. 
 
 Biron, Now, in thy l.keness, one more fool, ap- 
 pear! [Aside. 
 Ltmg. Ah me! I am forsworn. 
 Biron. Why, he comes m like a perjure, wear- 
 ing papers. [Aside, 
 King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in 
 shame! |,4s!V/e. 
 Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. 
 
 [.iside. 
 Long. ,\m I the first that have lieen perjured so? 
 Biron. [Asitli.] I could put thee in comfort; not 
 by two, that 1 know : 
 Thou mak'st the triumviry, tlie corner-cap of so- 
 ciety. 
 The shaj^e of love's Tjburn that hangs up siniplicit3\ 
 Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to 
 move: 
 O sweet Maria, empress of my love ! 
 These numbers will I tear, and WTite in prose. 
 Biron. [Aside.] V, rhymes are guards on wanton 
 Cupid s hose: 
 Disfigure nut his slop. 
 Long. This same shall go. — 
 
 [He reud.s the sonnet. 
 Did nid th ■ heavenly rhetoric if thine eye 
 
 ('Gainst whom Ihe world cannot hold'argumcnt) 
 Persuade my liearl lo this false pefury? 
 
 Vows, fin' thee brake, deserve nat punishment. 
 A woman I forswore,- out, I will prove, 
 
 Thou beiiif; u goddess, Jfor-rtcure not thee: 
 My ro?iJ was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 
 
 Thy grace beiufi gain'd. cures all iti.'-graee in me 
 Vows are but breath, ami breath a vapor is: 
 Then thou, fair tun, which on my earth doth 
 shine, 
 ExhuTsI this vapf)r vow; in thee it is: 
 
 If broke h, then, it is no fault of mine: 
 If by me broken. u:hat fi.ol is not so wise, 
 To lose an oath to U'in a paradise? 
 Biron. \A.side.] 'I'his is the liver vein, which 
 makes llesh a deity ; 
 A green goose a goddess : pure, pure idolatry. 
 God amend us, God amend! we are much onto' 
 the way. 
 Enter Dtmain, tenth apaper. 
 Long. By whom shall I send this? — Company! 
 stay. [Stepping aside. 
 
 Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant 
 play : 
 Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky. 
 And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. 
 IVIore sacks to the mill ! O heavens, I have my 
 
 wish ; 
 Dumain transform'd: four woodcocks in a dish ! 
 Bum. O most divine Kale ! 
 Biron. O most profane coxcomb ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Dum. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye ! 
 
 Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you 
 
 lie. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber 
 
 coted.a 
 Biron. An amber-colord raven was well noted. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Dum. As uprisht as the cedar. 
 Biron. Stoop, I say ; 
 
 Her shoulder is with child. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. As fair as day. 
 
 Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must 
 shine. [Aside. 
 
 Dum. I) that 1 had my wish ! 
 Long. And I had mine ! 
 
 |..l.«!V/e 
 
 King. .\nd I mine too. good lord ! \.i&ide. 
 
 Birou. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good 
 
 word ! [Asiiie. 
 
 Dum. 1 would forget her; hut a fever she 
 
 Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. 
 
 Biron. A fever in your blood, why then incision 
 Would let her out in saucers; Swc'et misprision 
 
 [Aside. 
 Dum. Once-more I'll read the ode that 1 have 
 writ. 
 
 a Outstripped, surpas.scd. 
 
144 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Biruti. Once more I'll mark how love can vary 
 wit. [Jiirif. 
 
 Dum On a day, Itilack thr dai/f) 
 
 Iju'C. inhd-bC nicntk Isei'tr Maijy 
 
 Spied ft bltisx-'itt, p<i.-<siiii£ fair, 
 
 Fiayinf^ in tlie ivaniim air: 
 
 Thruui^h the veh'tt leaves the wind, 
 
 Alt unseen, ^gan pa^sa^eftnd; 
 
 Titat ttie tavet; .'.ir/f to deatti, 
 
 IVisti'd hiitisetf ttie liearcii'ti breath. 
 
 Air, quotti tie, ttiij elwetis may btow 
 
 Air, ivuutd. 1 utitslit triitnipk so.' 
 
 But, ataeti, my tiand. is sworn. 
 
 Ne'er to ptack ttuefrom ttty ttiom .- 
 
 Voiu, utucli,for youtti unmeet; 
 
 Youth so apt to jduck a sweet. 
 
 Do not call it sin in me. 
 
 That 1 am forsivorn for thee; 
 
 Thou fm- whom even Jove xvouid swear 
 
 Juno but an Elltiop were; 
 
 And deny hintsttfj'or Juv'\ 
 
 'learning mortal for thu love. — 
 
 This will I. send; and something else more plain, 
 That shall express my true love's fasting pain. 
 
 would the King, Ihron, and Longaville, 
 Were lovers too! Ill to example ill. 
 
 Would froni my forehead wipe a periur'd note ; 
 p'or none offend, where all alike do dote. 
 
 Long. Dumam, [Advancing.] thy love is far 
 from charity, 
 That in love's grief desir'st society : 
 You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, 
 To be o'crheard, and taken napping so. 
 
 King. Come, sir, [Advancing.] you blush; as 
 his your case is such ; 
 You chide at him, olfending twice as much: 
 You do not love Maria; Longaville 
 Did never sonnet for her sake compile; 
 Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart 
 Hiiloving bosom, to keep down his hearf! 
 
 1 have been closely shrouded in this bush. 
 
 And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. 
 I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion ; 
 Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion : 
 Ah me ! says one ; O Jove ! the other cries; 
 One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes : 
 Y'ou would for paradise break faith and troth ; 
 
 [To hoy a. 
 And Jove, for your love, would iiifrinse an oath. 
 
 [To DUMAIS. 
 
 What will Biron say, when that he shall hear 
 A faitli infring'd which such a zeal did swear ! 
 How wdl he scorn 1 how will he spend his wit ! 
 How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it! 
 For all the wealth that ever I did see, 
 1 would not have him know so much by me. 
 
 Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.— 
 Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me : 
 
 [Descends from the tree. 
 Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove 
 These worms for loving, that art most in love ! 
 Your ejcs do make no coaches ; in your tears 
 There is no certain princess that appears: 
 You'll not be pcrjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing; 
 Tush, none but mmstrels like of sonnetting. 
 But are you not asham'd ? nay, are you not. 
 All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot ! 
 You found his mote ; the king your mote did sec ; 
 But I a beam do find in e.ach of three. 
 O what a scene of foolery 1 have seen, 
 Of siahs. of groans', of sorrow, and of teen !j 
 
 me, with what strict patience have I sat, 
 To sec a king transformed to a gnat! 
 
 To see great Hercules whipping a gigg 
 And profound Solomon to tune a jigg, 
 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, 
 And critic' Timon laugh at idle toys! 
 Where lies thy grief tell me. irood Pumam ! 
 And, Kontlc Longaville, where lies thy pain ! 
 And where my liege's 1 all about the breast:— 
 A candle, ho! 
 
 Kitig. Too bitter is thy jest. 
 
 Are wc bctray'd thus to thy over-\iew1 
 
 Biron. Not you by nie. but I bctray'd to you; 
 I, that am honest; I,' that hold it sin 
 To break the vow 1 am engaged in ! 
 
 1 am bctray'd. by keeping company 
 
 With inooii-Iike men of strange inconstancy. 
 
 'Griff 
 
 * Cynic. 
 
 When shall >ou see me write a thing in rhyme? 
 Orfiroan for Joan! or spend a iiniute's time 
 In pruning" nie ! When shall you hear that I 
 Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, 
 A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, 
 A leg, a limb ?— 
 
 King. Soft ; Whither away so fast ! 
 
 A true man. or a thief, that gallops so! 
 
 Biron. 'I post from love ; good lover, let me go. 
 
 Enter jAaUKSKTTA and CosTinn. 
 Jaq. God bless the king ! 
 
 King. What present hast thou there! 
 
 Lost. Some certain treason. 
 King. W hat makes treason here 1 
 
 Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. 
 King. If it mar nothing neither, 
 
 The treason, and you. go in peace away together. 
 Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read. 
 Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. 
 King. Biron, read it over. 
 
 [Giving him the letter. 
 Where hadst thou it'! 
 Jaij. Of Costard. 
 Kiu!^, Where hadst thou it! 
 Cint. Of Dun Adramartio. Dun Adramadio. 
 King. How now! what is in you! why dost 
 
 thou tear it! 
 Biron. .4. toy, my liege, a toy ; your grace needs 
 
 not fear it. 
 Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore 
 
 let's hear it. 
 Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. 
 [Pictis vp the pieces. 
 Biron. Ah, you whoreson logiierhead,[ To Cos- 
 TAnii.l you were born to do me shame. — 
 Cuilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess. 
 King. What! 
 
 Biron. rhat you three fools lack'd me fool to 
 make up the mess: 
 He, he, and you, my liege, and I, 
 .\re pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. 
 O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. 
 Dum. Now the number is even. 
 Biron. True, true ; we are four : — 
 
 Will these turtles be gone ! 
 King. Hence, sirs ; away. 
 
 Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the trai- 
 tors stay. [Exewit Cost, and jAa. 
 Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us em- 
 brace! 
 As true we are, as flesh and blood can be : 
 The sea will ebb and How, heaven show his face; 
 
 Young blood will not obey an old decree : 
 We cannot cross the cause why wc were born ; 
 Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. 
 King. What, did these rent lines show some love 
 
 of thine! 
 Biron. Did they, quoth you! Who sees the 
 heavenly Rosaline, 
 That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, 
 
 At the first opening of the srorgeous east. 
 Bows not his vassal head; and. strucken blind. 
 
 Kisses the base ground with obedient breast ! 
 What peremptory eagle-sighted eye 
 
 Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
 That is not blinded by her majesty ! 
 ■ King. What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee 
 
 now! 
 My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon : 
 
 She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. 
 Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron : 
 O, but for my love, day would turn to night! 
 Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 
 
 Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek; 
 Where several worthies make one dignity ; 
 
 Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek. 
 Lend me the llourish ol all gnitle tongues— 
 
 Fye, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not; 
 To thiiigs of sale a seller's praise belongs; 
 
 She passes praise ; then jiraisc loo short doth blot 
 A withcr'd hermit, five-score winters worn. 
 
 Might shake ofTlifly, looking in her eye: 
 Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born. 
 
 And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. 
 0, 'tis the sun, that niakcth all things shine! 
 King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. 
 Biron. Is ebony like her! O wood divine ! 
 A wife of such wood were felicity. 
 * In trimming myself. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 lio 
 
 0, who can give an oath ! where is a booli 1 
 
 That i may swear, beauty UoiU beauty lack, 
 If that slie learn not uf her eye to look: 
 
 ^»o lace IS lair, tiiat i:^ not full so black. 
 Kir.^. u paradox ! black is tlie bad^e of hell. 
 The hue ui dun^icons, and tlie scowl of iiiglit; 
 And beauty's ciest becomes the heavens well. 
 Biron. Uevils sounest teu.pt, resembling spirits 
 oi light. 
 O, if in biacri. my hidy's brows be dcckt, 
 
 It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, 
 Should ravish Oo.ers with a iVtlse aspect; 
 
 And tiierejore is she born to make black fair. 
 Her ia\or luiiitj llie fashion of the days; 
 
 For native blood is counted painting now; 
 And therefore red, that would, avoid dispraise, ^ 
 I'aints itself black, to imitate her brow. 
 Diinu Uo look like her, are chimney-sweepers 
 
 black. 
 Long, And, since her time, are colliers counted 
 
 bright. 
 Kin^. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion 
 
 crack. 
 Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is 
 
 Ught. 
 Biron. Vour mistresses dare never come in rain. 
 Vox fear their cidors should be wasifd away. 
 King. ' Twere good, yours did : for, sir, to tell 
 you plain, 
 111 hnd a laircr face notwash'd to-day. 
 Biron. I'll prove her lair, or talk till duoms-day 
 
 lie re. 
 King. No devil wili fright Ihee then so much as 
 
 siie. 
 Bum. 1 never knew man hold vile stuU' so dear. 
 Long. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her 
 face see. [Slwwing his shoe. 
 
 Biron. u, if the streets were paved witli thine 
 eyes, 
 Her lieet were mucli too dainty for such tread ! 
 Vuni. O vile ! then as she goes, what upward 
 lies 
 The street should see as she walkM over head. 
 King, iiut wliat oi this ? Are we not all ni love ] 
 Biron. Nothing so sure;andtherebyalIibrswom. 
 King. Tlien leave this chat; and, good Biron, 
 now prove 
 Our loving lawful, and our faith not lorn. 
 Hum. Ay, marry, there, — some flatteiy for tiiis 
 
 evil. 
 Long. 0, some authority how to proceed; 
 Some tricks, some quihets,* how to cheat the devil. 
 Duni. Some salve lor perjury. 
 Biron. t), 'tis more than need ! — 
 
 Have at you tlien, allcction's men at arms: 
 Consider, what you lirst did swear unto; — 
 To fast. — to study, — and to see no woman; — 
 Flat treason 'gainst the knigly state of youth. 
 Say, can you fast .' your stomachs are loo young 
 And abstinence engenders maladies. 
 And where that jou have vow d to study, lords, 
 III that each of you bath forsworn his book : 
 Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look.'? 
 For w hen would jou, iny lord, or you, or you, 
 Have found the ground of study's excellence, 
 Without the beauty of a wuman-s lace ! 
 From women.'s eyes this doctrine I derive: 
 Tliey are the ground, the books, the academes. 
 From whence tlolh spring the true Promelliean fire. 
 Why, universal plodding prisons up 
 The nimble spirits m the arteries ; 
 As motion, and long-during action, tires 
 'i'he sinewy vigor oVthe traveller, 
 is'ow, for not looking on a woman's face, 
 You have in that forsworn the use of eyes; 
 And study too, the causer of your vow : 
 For where is any author in the world, 
 
 10 I 
 
 Teaclies sucli beau'y as a woman's eye? 
 
 Learning is bui an aujinici lo y<.>urfceh, 
 
 And v\iiere we aic. our learning nkcwise is. 
 
 Then, when ourselves we see m ladies eyei*, 
 
 Do we nut likewise see our learning Iheie ! 
 
 (J, we have in.iue a vuw to studj', lords; 
 
 And 111 li.at vuw we i.ave forsworn our books; 
 
 For when would > (»u, my hege, or you, or you, 
 
 In icaden coiitcmpJation, iiave louiid out 
 
 Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes 
 
 Of beauteous tutors liave enricii'a you with 1 
 
 Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; 
 
 And therefore hnuing barren practisers. 
 
 Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: 
 
 But love, tirst learned in a iady's eyes, 
 
 Lives not alone immured in the brain; 
 
 But, with the motion of all elements, 
 
 Courses as swift as thought in every power; 
 
 And gives to every power a double power, 
 
 Above their functions and their olKcers. 
 
 It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; 
 
 A lovers e}es will gaze an eagle blind, 
 
 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
 
 When the susj)icious head of theft is stopped; 
 
 Loves teeling is more sort, and sensible, 
 
 Than are the lender horns of cockled snails; 
 
 Love's tongue proves damty Bacchus gross in taste : 
 
 For valor, is not love a Hercules, 
 
 Stdl climbing trees in the Hesperides? 
 
 Subtle as Splimx; as sweet, and musical, 
 
 As bright Apolio s lute, strung with his iiair ; 
 
 And, when Love speaJis, the voice oH all tlie gods 
 
 Makes heaven drowsy witli the harmony. 
 
 Never durst poet touch a pen to write, 
 
 Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sigh ; 
 
 0, then his lines would ravish savage ears, 
 
 And plant in tyrants mild humility. 
 
 From women's eyes tins doctrine I derive: 
 
 'I hey sparkle still the right Promethean fire; 
 
 They are the books, the arts, the academes, 
 
 That show, contain, and nourish all the world; . 
 
 Klse none at all in aught proves excellent: 
 
 Then fools you were lliese women to forswear ; 
 
 Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. 
 
 For wisdoms sake, a word that all men lo\e; 
 
 Or for love's sake, a word that loves ail men ; 
 
 ()r for men's sake, the authors of these women; 
 
 (>r women's sake, by whom we men are men: 
 
 Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves, 
 
 Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths: 
 
 It is religion to be thus forsworn: 
 
 For charity itself fulfils the law; 
 
 And who can sever love tfom charity? 
 
 King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the 
 field ! 
 
 Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, 
 lords ; 
 Pell-mell, down with them ! but be first advis'd, 
 In conilicl that you get the sun of them. 
 
 Long. Now to plain-dealing ; lay these glozes by ; 
 Shall we resolve to woo these girJs of France? 
 
 King. And win them loo: therefore let us devise 
 Some entertainment tor them in their tents. 
 
 Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them 
 thilher; 
 Then, homeward, every man attach the hand 
 Of his fair mistress : in llie atlernoon 
 We will with some strange pastime solace them. 
 Such as the shortness of the time can shape ; 
 For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, 
 Fore-run fair Love, strewing her way with llowers. 
 
 King. Away, away! no time shall be oimtted, 
 That will be time, and may by us be fitted. 
 
 Biron. Allons.' AUona.' — Sow'd cockle reap'd 
 no corn ; 
 And justice always whirls in equal measure : 
 Light wenches may prove plagues ^o men forsworn ; 
 If so, our copper buys no better treasure. 
 
 'Kj:eu?it, 
 
140 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'P LOST 
 
 Act V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.-A Street. 
 Enter HotoFERXES, Sir Nathaniel, and Ddll. 
 
 Hoi. Satis quod sujficit. 
 
 J^attt. 1 praise GoU lor you, sir, your reasons^ 
 Bt dinner have been sharp and sententious; plea- 
 sant without scurrility, witty witliout altcction,' 
 audacious without iinpudency, learned without 
 opinion, and strange without heresy. 1 did con- 
 verse this quonilani, day with a companion of the 
 king's, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don 
 Adriano de Arnuulo. 
 
 Hoi. Novi IwTUiaem tanqumn tc- His humor is 
 lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his 
 eye ambitious, his gate niajestical, and his general 
 behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical.* He is 
 too picked,' too spruce, too aliected, too odd, as it 
 were, too peregrinate, as I may call it. 
 
 Natti. A most singular and choice epithet. 
 
 [Tutits uul tits taljte-booli. 
 
 Hot. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity 
 finer than the staple of iiis argument. 1 abhor such 
 fanatical phantasms, such insociable and point-de- 
 visC companions; such rackers of orthography, as 
 to speak, dout, fine, when he should say, doubt: 
 det. when he should pronounce, debt; d, e, b, t; 
 not, d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; 
 neighbor, voc/itur, nebour, neigh abbreviated, ne : 
 This is ablioininable, (which he would call abomin- 
 able,) it insinuateth me of insaine; Ne intelligis 
 dentine? to make frantic, lunatic, 
 r^atli. i/«.s deo, bone intet/igo. 
 Uul. Biiiie?—bone, for bene: Priscian a little 
 Ecratcii'd; 'twill serve. 
 
 Enter Aumado, Moth, and Costaiid. 
 
 Nath. Videsne quis venit? 
 
 Hoi. Video, et gaudeo. 
 
 Arui. Chirra! [To Moth. 
 
 Hoi. y«nrc Chirra, not sirrah? 
 
 A.rm. Men of peace, well encounter'd. 
 
 Hot. Most military sir, salutation. 
 
 Mollt. 1 hey have been at a great feast of lan- 
 guages, and stolen the scraps. [To Costa ud aside. 
 
 Cost. O, they have lived long in the alms-basket 
 of words ! 1 marvel, thy master hath not eaten tliee 
 for a word ; for Ihou art not so long by the head as 
 honorijieabilitudinitutiijas: thou art easier swal- 
 lowed than a Ilaji-dragon.J 
 
 Alutti. peace ; the peal begins. 
 
 Arm. Monsieur, [Tu Hol.J are you not letter'd? 
 
 Motli. Yes, yes; he teaches boys tlic horn-book : 
 —What is a, b, spelt backward with a horn on Ins 
 head ! 
 
 Hoi. Ba pueritia, with a horn added. 
 
 Motli. lia, most silly sheep, with a horn:— You 
 hear his learning. 
 
 llol. Quis, 7ii(>, thou consonanf! 
 
 Mutli. The third of the five vowels, if you repeal 
 them; or the litlh, if I. 
 
 Ut)L 1 will repeat them, a, e, i. — 
 
 Motli. 1 ho sheep ; the other two concludes it ; 
 o, u. 
 
 Ann, Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterra- 
 neum, a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit: snip, 
 .'nap, quick and home; it rejoicelh my intellect: 
 true wit. 
 
 M')th, (lller'dby a child to an old man; which 
 is wit-old. 
 
 IhiL. What is the figure? what is the figure? 
 
 Mollt. Horns. 
 
 llol. Thou disputest hke an infant: go, whip 
 thy gtg. 
 
 Mntk. Lend me your horn to make one, and 1 
 will whip about your mtaniy drcuni circa; A gig 
 of a cuckold's horn ! 
 
 Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou 
 shouldst have it to buy gingerbread : hold, there is 
 tlievcry remuneration 1 had of thy master, tliouhalf- 
 
 1 Discourses. « AITi;ctntii)ii. 9 Boastful. 
 
 ' Uvernlressra. 2 Fiuicul cxactaess. 
 
 ' .1 small inllamm,iljli!6abstatici', swallowca in a glass 
 
 penny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion 
 U, an tlie heavens were so pleased, that thou wert 
 but my bastard! what a joyful father would st thou 
 make me! Goto; thou hast it mi duniiliiJ, ill Ihe 
 fingers' ends, as they say. 
 
 H(d, l», 1 smell raise Latin ; dungl ill for mi- 
 gtteni. 
 
 Arm. Arts-man, prseuntbultt; we will be singled 
 from the barbarous. Ijo you not educate youth at 
 tlfc charge-house* on the top of the mountain ! 
 Hot, Or, nioiis, the hill. 
 
 Arm, At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. 
 Hul. 1 do, sans question. 
 
 Arm. ^\r, it is tl,e king's most sweet pleasure 
 and aUection, to congratulate the princess at her 
 pavilion, in Ihe posteriors of this day ; which the 
 rude multitude call the aUernoou. 
 
 Hot, 1 he posterior of the day, most generous 
 sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the 
 afieriioon: the word is well cuU'd, chose; sweet 
 and apt, 1 do assure you, sir, 1 do assure. 
 
 Ann, Sir, the king is a noble gentleman ; and my 
 familiar, 1 do assure you, very good friend; — For 
 \\hat is inward between us, let it pass.— I do be- 
 seech thee, remember thy courtesy; — I beseech 
 thee, apparel thy head; — and among other im- 
 portunate and most serious designs, — and of great 
 import indeed, too;— but let that pass:— for I 
 must tell thee, it wiU please his giace (by the world) 
 sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder; and with 
 his royal linger, thus, dally with my excrement, • 
 with iny mustachio; but sweet heart, let that pass. 
 By the world, 1 recount no fable; some certain 
 special honors it pleaseth his greatness to impart 
 to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath 
 seer, the worUl : but let that pass.— 1 he very all of 
 all is, — but sweet heart, I do implore secrecy, — 
 that the king would have me present the princess, 
 sweet chuck, with some delightful osteirtation, or 
 show, or pageant, or antic, or fire- work. N ow, un- 
 derstanding that the curate and your sweet self, 
 are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking 
 out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted y. u 
 wiilul, to the end to crave your assistance. 
 
 Hoi, .'■ir, you shall i)re»eiit before her the nine 
 worthies. — Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some en- 
 tertainment of time, some show^ in the posterior of 
 this day. to be rendered by our assistance, — the 
 king's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, 
 and learned gentleman,— before the princess; 1 say, 
 none so fit as to present the nine worthies. 
 
 Nath. Where imU you find men worthy enough 
 to present them? 
 
 Hoi. Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant 
 gentleman, Judas MaccabaEUs; this swain, because 
 of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the 
 great; the page, Hurcules. 
 
 Ami. Pardon, sir, error : he is not quantity enough 
 for that worthy's thumb : he is not so big as the 
 end ufhis club. 
 
 Hoi. Shall I have audience? he shall present 
 Hurcules in minority: Ins enter and txi/ siiall be 
 sIraiigliiiL: a snake; and 1 will have an apology lor 
 that iiur]tose. 
 
 Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the 
 audience hiss, jou may cry, Well done, Hurcules! 
 now thou crustiest Ihe snake.' that is the way to 
 make an olfence gracious; though few have the 
 grace to do it. 
 Arm. Kor the rest of the worthies? 
 JIol. 1 will play three myself. 
 Molh. rhrice-worthy gentleman! 
 Arm. Shall I tell you a thing? 
 JIol. We attend. 
 
 Arm. We will have, if this fadges not, an antic. 
 I beseech you, follow. 
 
 llol. ri«,' goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no 
 word all this while. 
 Hull, Nor understood none neither, sir. 
 Hoi. Allons.' we will employ thee. 
 Bull. Ill make one in a dance, oi so; or I will 
 
 * Free-school 
 6 Suit. 
 
 5 Beard. 
 
 ' Courage. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 147 
 
 play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them 
 dance the hay. 
 Hot. Most liull, honest Dull to our sport, away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE li.—BLfvrc (he Princess's Pavilion. 
 
 Enter the PnixcKss, K-vthahine, Rosalixe. and 
 Maui A. 
 
 Pniu Sweethearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, 
 If fairings come thus plentifully in : 
 A 1 idy waU'd about with dnnonds ! — 
 Look "you, what I have from the loving kins;. 
 
 Has. Madam, come nothing else along with thati 
 
 Fri/i. .Nothing but thist yes, as much love in 
 rhyme. 
 As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, 
 Writ on both sides the leaf, niargent and all ; 
 That lie was fain to seal on Cupid s name. 
 
 Ros. Tliat was the way to make his god-head 
 wax ;8 
 For he hath been five thousand years a boj". 
 
 Kafh. Ay. and a shrewd unhappy gaJiows too. 
 
 iioi. You'll ne'er be friends witb him; he kill'd 
 your sister. 
 
 Kaih. He made her melancholy, sad, and, heavy; 
 And so she died : had she been light, like you, 
 Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
 She might have been a grandam ere she died : 
 And so may you: for a light lu-art lives long. 
 
 Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse,= of this 
 light word] 
 
 Kaih, A light condition in a be;iuty dark. 
 
 Ros. We need more light to tind your meaning out. 
 
 Kath. You II mar the light, by taking it insnulT;* 
 Therefore, 111 darkly end llic argument. 
 
 Ros, Look what you do, you do it still i* the 
 dark. 
 
 Kath. So do not you ; for you are a light wench. 
 
 Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you ; and therefore light, 
 
 Kath. You weigh me not — O, that's you care 
 not for me. 
 
 Rns. Great reason ; for, past cure is still past care. 
 
 Prin. Well bandied both ; a stt of wit well play'd. 
 But, Rosaline, you have a favor too; 
 Who sent it i and what is it i 
 
 Ros. ^ I would, you knew: 
 
 An if my face were but as fair as yours, 
 My favor were as great; be witness this. 
 Nay, I have verses too, I thank Uiron: 
 The numbers true ; and, were the numb" ring too, 
 I were the fairest goddess on the grouud: 
 I am compared to twenty thousand lairs. 
 O, he halh drawn my picture m his letter! 
 
 Prin. Any thmg like!, 
 
 Ros. Much, in the letters: nothing, in the praise. 
 
 Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion. 
 
 Kath. Fair as a text li in a copy book. 
 
 Ros, 'Ware pencils! How.' let me not die your 
 debtor. 
 My red dominical, my eolden letter: 
 Ojthat your f ice were iiot so fult of O's ! 
 
 Ko'h. A pox of that jest! and beshrew allshrows! 
 
 1 rin. Hut what was sent to you trom fair Dumain.' 
 
 Kcfh. Madam, this glove, 
 
 Prin. 
 
 Did he not send you twr 
 
 . Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover. 
 Some thousand verses of a faitht'ul lover: 
 A huge translation of hypocrisy, 
 Vilely compild' profound simplicity. 
 
 Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Lon- 
 gaville ; 
 The letter is too long by half a mile. 
 
 Prin. I think no less; Dost thou not wish in heart. 
 The chain were longer, and the letter short ! 
 
 Mar. Ay. or 1 would these hands might never 
 part. 
 
 Prin. We are wis? girls to mock our lovers so. 
 
 Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. 
 That same Hirou I'll torture ere I go. 
 O, that 1 knew he were but in by ilie week ! 
 How I would make iiim fawn, and beg, and seek ; 
 And wait the season, and observe the times ; 
 And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes;' 
 And shape his seivice wholly to my behests; 
 And make him proud to make me proud that jests! 
 So portent-like would 1 o'ersway his state, 
 That he should be my fool, and I his fate. 
 
 B Grow. s Formi-rly a term of endearment. 
 
 » In angur. 
 
 Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are 
 catch'd, 
 As wit turn'd Ibol : folly, in wisdom hatch'd, 
 Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school ; 
 And Wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. 
 
 Ros. Tlie hlootl of youth burns not with such 
 ex '.-ess. 
 As gravity's revolt to wantonness. 
 
 Mar. l-olly m fools bears not so strong a note, 
 As Idoiery ni the wise, when wit doth dote ; 
 tiince all the power thereof it doth apply, 
 To prove, by wit, worth m simphcity. 
 
 Enter Botkt. 
 
 PHn. Here comes Hoyet, and mirth is in his face. 
 
 Boyet. U, 1 am slabb d with laughter ! W here's 
 lier grace ! 
 
 Prin. Thy news, Boyet ? 
 
 Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare ! — 
 
 Arm, wenches, arm ! encounters inuunieU are 
 Against your peace : Love dotli approacli disguis'd, 
 Armed in ar-uments: you 11 be surprisd: 
 Muster jour wits; stand iji your own defence ; 
 Or hiile J our heads like cowjrds, and liy lience. 
 
 Prin. ^alllt Denis to saint Cupid ! VV hat are they, 
 TJtat charge their breath aganist us? say, scout, sa>. 
 
 Boyet. tndcr the cool hiiacie of a sycamore, 
 I thought to close mine e^es some half an hour: 
 W hen, !o ! to interrupt my purpos d rest. 
 Toward iJiat shatlc 1 might behold addiejit 
 The king and his companions: wanly 
 1 stole into a nuii;hbor tlncket by, 
 And overheard what yuu shall overhear; 
 That, by and by, dis^uis'd they wiU be here. 
 Tlieir herald is a pretty knavisli page, 
 That weil by liearl hain conn'd his embassajre : 
 Action, ana accent, did ihey leach him there; 
 Tints must tliou speak ^ ana thus thy body bear: 
 And ever and anon Ihey made a doubt. 
 Presence majestical would put him out ; 
 for, quolh iiic knv^, an an ^f ishait thou see £ 
 Yet fear not thou, out spet.fi audaciousty. 
 The boy reply'd. An an'^et w not evil ; 
 I sliuutit tiavefeafd licr^ had she beai a devil. 
 With that all luugli'd, and clapp'd him on the 
 
 shouider; 
 Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. 
 One rubb'd his elbow, thus ; and tleer'd, and swore, 
 A better S])eech was never spoke before: 
 Another with his linger and his thumb, 
 Crj 'd, Via/ uc wilt dn't, come what will come : 
 The third he caper d, and cried, All goes welt : 
 The idurlh turn'd on the toe, and down he lell 
 Willi that they all did tumble on ihe ground, 
 With sucha zealous laughter,so prolound, 
 That in lb*' spleen ridiculous appears, 
 To check their folly, passion s solemn tears. 
 
 Prin. hut what, but what, come tliey to visit us ? 
 
 Boyet, Ihey do, tliey do, and are appareld 
 thus,— 
 Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess. 
 Their purpose is, lo paile, to court, and dance : 
 And every one his love-leat will advance 
 I. nto his several mistress ; which they "11 know 
 By favors several, which lliey did bestow. 
 
 Pri/i. And wilt they so ! itie gallants shall be 
 laskd : — 
 For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd ; 
 And not a man of them shall have the grace. 
 Despite of suit, to see a lady s liice. — 
 Hold, Rosaline, this lavor tnou shalt wear ! 
 And then the king will court thee for his dear ; 
 Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine ; 
 So shall Birun take me for Rosaline. — 
 And change your favors loo; so shall your loves 
 Woo conlrar>', deceiv d, by these removes. 
 
 Ros. Come on then; wear the favors most in sight. 
 
 Kaih. But, ni ihis changing, whatisyour intent .' 
 
 Prin, The ellect of my intent is to cross theirs: 
 They do it but in mocking merrimenl: 
 And mock for mock is only my intent. 
 Their several counsels lliey unbosom shall 
 To loves mistook ; and so be mock'd withal, 
 I'pon the next occasion that we meet, 
 \V ith visages display 'd, to talk, and greet. 
 
 Ros. But sliall we dance, if tliey desire us to't ? 
 
 Prin. No : to the death, we wdl not move a foot, 
 Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace ; 
 But, while lis spoke, each turn away her fate. 
 
148 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Boyet. Why, tliat cmilcmiit wiJl kill the speaker's 
 
 he;ill, 
 
 And quite, divorce liis memory from his jiart. 
 
 Prill. Therelorc 1 do it; mid I make no doubt 
 The rest wdl ne'er come in, ii he he out. 
 There's no such sport, as sport by sport overthrown ; 
 To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own : 
 So shall we stay, mocking intended game ; 
 And they, well mock'd depart ;.way with shame. 
 L Trumpets suunii irithiii. 
 
 Buyet. The trumpet sounds ; he niask'd, the 
 
 maskers come. {The Ladies inask. 
 
 Enter tlie Kixo, Bnios. LoNr.AviLi.E, and Du- 
 
 .■MAiN, in Russian habits, and luaslied ; Moth, 
 
 Musicians, and Attendants. 
 
 Moth. Alt hail, the richest beauties on the earth.' 
 
 Buyet. Beauties no riclier than rich tatl'eta. 
 
 iloth. A holy parcel vfthefarist dames, 
 
 [The Ladies turn their backs to him. 
 That ever turn'd their— buclis — tii mortal views.' 
 
 Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. 
 
 Moth. T/iat ever turn'd their eyes to mortal 
 views! Out — 
 
 Bnyet. True ; out, indeed. 
 
 Moth. Out of your favors, heavenly spirils, 
 vouchsafe, 
 Nut to behold— 
 
 Biron. Once to behold, rogue. 
 
 Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamedeyes, 
 with your sun-beamed eyes — 
 
 Boyet. They will not answer to thatepithet; 
 ■Vou were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes. 
 
 Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me 
 out. 
 
 Biron. 1 s this your perfectness'! begone, you rogue. 
 
 Bos. What would these strangers I know tlieir 
 minds, Boyet : 
 I ' they do speak our language, 'tis our will 
 That some plain man recount their purposes : 
 Know what they would. 
 
 Buyet. What would you with the princess ? 
 
 Biron. Nothing Init peace and gentle visitation. 
 
 Jtos. What would they, say they '! 
 
 Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. 
 
 Bos. Why, that they have; and hiil thein so begone. 
 
 Boyet. Shesays, youhaveit, ami vou may begone. 
 
 King. Say to her, we have mcas'nr'd many miles 
 To tread a measure with her on this grass. 
 
 Boyet. They say that they have measur'd many 
 a mile, 
 To tread a measure with you on this grass. 
 
 Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inches 
 Is in one mile; if they have measur'd many, 
 The measure then of one is easily told. 
 
 Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, 
 And many miles; the princess bids you tell, 
 How many inches do hll up one mile. 
 
 Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. 
 
 Boyet. She hears herself 
 
 Bos. . How many weary steps. 
 
 Of many weary miles you have oergoiie, 
 Are numberd in the travel of one mile ! 
 
 Biron. \Ve number nothing that we spend for 
 you ; 
 Our duty is so rich, so infinite. 
 That we may do it still without accompt. 
 ■Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, 
 That we, like savages, may worship it. 
 
 Jius. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. 
 
 A'ing. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! 
 \ otichsal'e, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine 
 ( Those clouds remov'd) upon our wat'ry cyne, 
 
 Ros. O vain petitioner ! beg a greater matter; 
 Thou now request st but moonshine m the water. 
 
 King. Then, in our measure do but vochsafe 
 one change; 
 Thou bid'st me beg ; this begging is not strange. 
 
 Ros. Play, music, then; nay, you must do it 
 
 soon. [Musicplays. 
 
 Not yet ;— no dance : — thus change I like the moon. 
 
 King. Will you not dance ! How come you thus 
 estrang d I 
 
 Ros. "Vou took the moon at full ; but now she's 
 cliangd. 
 
 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. 
 The music plays ; voiichsare some motion to it. 
 Ros. C>ur ears vouchsafe it. 
 
 King. 
 
 But your legs should do it. 
 
 Ros. Since 5 ou are strangers and come here by 
 chance. 
 Well not I e nice : take hands:— we will not dance. 
 
 King. Why take we hands then ! 
 
 Bus. Only to part friends: — 
 
 Court'sy, sweet hearts ; and so the measure ends. 
 
 King. More measure of this measure, be not nice. 
 
 Ros. We can allurd no mure at such a );rice. 
 
 King. Prize you yourselves; V\ hat buys your 
 company J 
 
 Ros. Your absence only. 
 
 King. That can never be. 
 
 Ros. Then cannot we be bought ; and so adieu ; 
 Twic ; to your visor, and half once to you ! 
 
 King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chaL 
 
 Ros. In private then. 
 
 King. 1 am best pleas'd with that 
 
 I Tttey converse apart. 
 
 Birun. 'While-handed mistress, one sweet word 
 with thee. 
 
 Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. 
 
 Biron. Nay then, two treys, ;aii il you grow so 
 nice.) 
 Melheglin, woil, and malmsey ;— Well run, dice. 
 Theie s half a dozen sweets. 
 
 Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu! 
 
 Since you can cog,' 111 play no more with you. 
 
 Biron. (jne word in secret. 
 
 Prin. Let it not be sweet. 
 
 Birun. Thou griev'st my gall. 
 
 Prin. Gall 1 bitter. 
 
 Birun. Therefore meet. 
 
 „..„ , , [Tliey converse apart. 
 
 Bum- Will you vouchsafe with me to change a 
 word .' 
 
 Mar. IS'ame it. 
 
 P)uni. Fair lady,— 
 
 „. ^i'""- Say you so ? Fair lord,— 
 
 1 ake that tor your fair lady. 
 
 Uum. Please it you, 
 
 As much in private, and I'll bid adievi. 
 
 „ ,, „., [They converse apart. 
 
 Kath. \\ hat, was your visor made without a 
 
 tongue ! 
 Long. 1 know the reason, lady, why you ask. 
 Kuth. O, for your reason! quickly, sir; I Ion". 
 Long. You have a double tongue within your 
 
 mask, 
 And would allbrd my speechless visor half. 
 Kuth. Veal, quoth tlie Dutchman ;— Is not veal 
 
 a calf! 
 Lung. A calf, fair lady 1 
 
 Kulh. No, a fair lord calf. 
 
 Lung. Let's part the word. 
 
 ■n-'^'"*,', ., ■ '^°' ^'" ""' '"' your half. 
 
 1 ake all, and wean it ; it may prove an ox. 
 Lung. Look, how you butt yourself in these 
 sliar]) mocks I 
 Will you give horns, chaste lady ? do not so. 
 Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. 
 Lung. One word 111 private with you, ere 1 die. 
 Kuth. Bleat softly then, the bu cher hears you 
 „ ^ "i- I They converse apart. 
 
 Boyet. i he tongues of mocking wenches are as 
 keen 
 As is the razor's edge invisible. 
 Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen ; 
 
 Above the sense of sense; so sensible 
 Seemeth their conference ; their conceits have wino-s. 
 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter 
 things. 
 Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break oiT, 
 
 break oil; 
 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! 
 King. Farewell, mad wenches ; you have simple 
 wits. [Ejcunt Kind, Lords, Mum, 
 
 Music, and Attendants. 
 Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. — 
 Are these breed of wits so wonder'd at ! 
 Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths 
 
 putf d out. 
 Ros. Well-liking wits they have : gross, gross ; 
 
 fat, fat. 
 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-iioor flout ! 
 W ill they not, think you, hang themselves to-night? 
 
 (ir ever, but in visors, show their faces ? 
 This pert Birun was out of countenance quite. 
 Rus. U ! they were all in lamentable cases ! 
 •Falsify dice, lie. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR-S LOST. 
 
 \4S 
 
 The king was weepiti^-ripe for a ^ood word. 
 
 Prin. liirOu did swear iimiself out of all suit. 
 
 Mar, Duniaiii was at my service, and his sword ; 
 No «yi«/,' quoth I ; my servant straight was iiLUte. 
 
 Aalfu Lord LongaviUe said, 1 came o'er his heart; 
 And trow you, what lie call'd me ] 
 
 Prin. Qualm, perhaps. 
 
 Kaih, Yes, in good faith. 
 
 Prin. tio, sickness as thou art ! 
 
 Rob. Well, better wits have worn plani statute- 
 caps.* 
 B it will you hear I the kin^ is my love sworn. 
 
 Prin. Andquick liiroii hath plighted laitli tome. 
 
 Kath. And Longaville was lor my service born. 
 
 Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. 
 
 Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear : 
 Immediately they will again be here 
 111 their own shapes ; for it can never be. 
 They will digest this harsh indignity. 
 
 Prin. Will they return i 
 
 Boyet, ihey wnl, they will, God knows; 
 
 And'leapfor joy, tliough they are lame with blows: 
 Therefore, change Javors ,* and wlicn they repair, 
 Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. 
 
 Prin. How blow \ how blow J speak to be un- 
 derstood. 
 
 Boyet. !■ air ladies, mask'd» are roses in their bud : 
 Dismask'd, Ihesr damask sweet commixture shown, 
 Are angels vailing clouds, or rutscs blown. 
 
 Pri/u Avaunt, periilexity ! What sJiall we do, 
 If they return iii their own shapes to woo? 
 
 Ros. Good madam, iJ by me you'll be advis'd. 
 Lets mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd ; 
 Let us complain to them wnat tools were here, 
 Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; 
 And wonder what tliey were ; and to wliat end 
 Their shallow shows, and juulogue vilely penn'd, 
 And their rough cirriage so ridiculous, 
 Should be presented at our tt-nt to us. 
 
 BOi^d. Ladies, withdraw ; tile gallants are at hand. 
 
 Prhu Whip to our lents, as roes run over land. 
 
 \Exerint Princess, Ros., Kath., and Mauia. 
 Enter Ike King, Biuon, Loxgavili.e, a?iii Lu- 
 
 MAiN, in ideir proper habits. 
 King. Fair sir, God save you ! Where is tlie 
 princess 1 
 
 Boyet. Gone to her tent: Pleaseit yourmajesty, 
 Command me any service to her tintlier ! 
 
 King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one 
 word. 
 
 Boyet, I will ; and so will she, I know, my lord. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Biron. This fellow picks up wit, as pigonspeas; 
 And utters it again when (Jod doth please : 
 He is wits pedlar ; and retails his wares 
 At wakes and wassels,» meetings, markets, fairs ; 
 And we lliut t^ell by gross, the Lord doth know, 
 Have not the grace to grace it with such show. 
 This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; 
 Had he been Adam, he had tempted Kve : 
 He can carve too, and lisp : W hy. this is he, 
 That kiss d away his hand in courtesy ; 
 This is the ape uf form, monsieur the nice, 
 That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice 
 In honorable terms; nay, he can sing 
 A mean' most meanly ; and, in ushering. 
 Mend him who can : the ladies call him, sweet; 
 The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet : 
 This is tlie liower that smiles on every one, 
 To show his teeth as white as wlialcs' bone :^ 
 And consciences, that will nut die in debt, 
 Pay him the due of iioney-tongued lioyet. 
 
 Kihg. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my 
 heart, 
 That put Armado's page out of his part ! 
 Enter tfie Phinckss, usfiered by Boyet Rosa- 
 
 LiNe, Mahia, Kathauine, and. Attendants. 
 
 Biroi2. See where it comes I — Behavior, what 
 wert thou, 
 Till this man showVl thee T and what art thou now ? 
 
 King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day ! 
 
 Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. 
 
 King. Construe inj' speeches better, if you may. 
 
 Prin. Then wish me belter, I will give you leave. 
 
 * A quibble ou the French adverb of negation. 
 
 * Better wits may be found among citizens. 
 
 s Features, countenances. * Itustic merry meetings. 
 1 The tenor in music, b Xhe tooth of the horse-whale. 
 
 King. We came lo visit }ou; and purpose now 
 '1 o lead }0U lu uur court: voueiibjle it then. 
 Prin. This field siiaU hold me : andso'hokl your 
 
 vow : ■ 
 Nor God, nor I, delight in pcrjurd men. 
 King Rebuke me not fur ihut which you provoke; 
 The virtue of your eye must break my oath. 
 Prin. Vou nick-iiamc virtue: vice you should 
 have spoke ; 
 For virtue's office never breaks men's trotJ). 
 Now by my maiden honor, >et as p-ure 
 
 As the unsullied lily, 1 protest, 
 A world uf torments though i sijuuld endure, 
 
 I would not yield to be your houses guest: 
 So much I hate a Urea king-cause to be 
 (H heavenly oaths, vowu with integrity. 
 King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, 
 Lnseen, unvis.tud, much to onr shame. 
 Prin. jNotso, my lord; it is not so, 1 swear ; 
 \\ e have had pastmiesheie, and pleajiant game 
 A. mess of Russians lefi us but of late. 
 King. How, madam ! Russians .' 
 Prui. Ay, in truth, my lord 
 
 Trim gallants, full of courtship, and ul slate. 
 
 Jvt'.>. Madam, speak true: — It is not so, my lord* 
 i\ly lady, \lo the manner oi the da> s,"*) 
 In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. 
 We lour, indeed, confronted here with four 
 In liussian habit : here they siaj'ii an hour. 
 And talk d apace ; and m that liuur, my lord, 
 They did not bless us with one happy w^ra. 
 I dare not call them tools ; but tins l ihuik. 
 When they are thirsty, fools would lam have drink. 
 Biron. 1 his jest is ary tome — J: air, gentle, sweet, 
 Your wit makes wise thmgsfoohsh ; when we greet 
 Wilii eyes best seeing heaven's tiery eye, 
 By liglit we lose light : Your capacity 
 Is of tliat natuie, that to your huge store 
 \V ise things seem Idolish, and ricli things but poor 
 Hon. This proves yuu wise and rich: for in my 
 
 eye,— 
 Biron. 1 am a fool, and full of poverty. 
 Ro&. But that )ou lake what uulli to you belong, 
 It were a faiUl to snatch words iruin my longue. 
 Birun. t), 1 am yours, and all that 1 poastss. 
 iio.s. Ail the tool mine .' 
 
 Biron, 1 cannot give you less. 
 
 Ro^. Which of the visors was it that you wore ,' 
 Biron. V\ here ! when .' what visor i why de- 
 mand jou this { 
 Ros. Tlieie, then, that visor; that superfluous case, 
 That hid the worse, and show d the better lace. 
 King. We aie Uebcned : they'll mock us now 
 
 downrigJit. 
 Duni. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 
 Prin. Aniazd, my lord i \\ i>y looks ^our higUr 
 
 nets sau '. 
 Ru^. Help, hold his brows ! he'll swoon! Why 
 look 3 ou paie .' 
 Sea-sick, 1 think, coming from Moscovy. 
 Biron. Tlius pour ine s>[ars down plagues lor 
 perjury. 
 Can any lace of brass hold longer out f — 
 Here stand I, lady ; dart thy skill at me ; 
 
 Bruise nic with scorn, confound me with a 
 llout ; 
 Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; 
 
 Cut me to jieices with ttiy keen conceit ; 
 And I will wl^h thee never more to dance. 
 Nor never inure m ivusbian habit wait. 
 
 ! ne\er will 1 trust to speeches pennd. 
 
 Nor t(t the motion of a school-bo^'s tongue ; 
 Nornever come in visur to my frienti ; 
 
 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song* 
 
 Tatleta phrases, sdken terms precise, 
 Three-pd'd hyperboles, sjtruce adectation. 
 Figures pedantical ; these summer-tlies 
 
 Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : 
 
 1 do lorswear them : and 1 here protest. 
 
 By this white glove, (how white the hand, 
 tiod knows !j 
 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd 
 
 In russet yeas, and Jionest kersey noes : 
 And, to begin, wench, — so God help me, la ! — 
 My love to thee is sound, sans cracK or llaw. 
 Ro.\. it'u^ASAAs, i pray you. 
 Biron. Yet I have a trick 
 
 Of the old rage :— bear with me, I am sick ; 
 
 » After the fapLxon of the times. 
 
150 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see ; — 
 Write, Lord have m.rcy on uSj on those three ; 
 They are inlected, in their hearts it lies ; 
 They have theplague,andcou{j:ht itof youreye.s: 
 Tllese lords are visited ; you are not Iree, 
 For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. 
 
 I^rin. No, Ihey are free, that'^ave these tokens to us. 
 
 Biroii. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. 
 
 Ro'i, It is not so : For how can this be true. 
 That you stand forfeit, beinf^ those that sue. 
 
 Biro/i. Peace ; tor 1 will not have to do with you. 
 
 Ros. Nor shall not, if 1 do as 1 intend. 
 
 Blron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. 
 
 King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude 
 transgression 
 Some fair excuse. 
 
 Pria. The fairest is confession. 
 
 Were you not here, but even now, disguisd ? 
 
 Kin^. Mad^m, I was. 
 
 Prin. And were you all advis'd.' 
 
 Kins. I was, fair madam. 
 
 prin. When you then were here, 
 
 What did you whisper in your lady's ear T 
 
 Kin^. Tnat more than all the world 1 did respect 
 her. 
 
 Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will 
 reject her. 
 
 King. Upon mine honor, no. 
 
 Prill. peace, peace, forbear; 
 
 Your oath once broke, you force ' not to forswear. 
 
 King. Despiseme when loreak this oath of mine. 
 
 Priii. I will ; and therefore keep it : — Kosahne, 
 What did the Russian whisper in your ear '. 
 
 Ros. Madam, he swore tliat he did hold me dear 
 As precious eye-sight ; and did value me 
 Above this world : addhig thereto, moreover, 
 That he would wed me or else die my lover. 
 
 prin. God give thee joy of him ! tlie noble lord 
 Must honorably doth uphold liis word. 
 
 King. Wliat mean you, madam I by myHfe,my 
 troth, 
 I never swore this lady such an oath. 
 
 Uoi:. By heaven, you did ; and tu confirm it plain. 
 You gave mc this : but take it, sir, again. 
 
 King. My fa:th, and this the priiicrss, 1 did give ; 
 I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. 
 
 Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear ; 
 And lord Bir6n, 1 thank him, is my dear :— 
 What, will you have me, or your pearl again 1 
 
 Biron. Neitlier of eitlicr ; I remit both twain. — 
 I see the trick nn't ;— Here was a consent,* 
 (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,} 
 To dash it like a Christmas comedy : 
 Some carry lale, some please man, some slight 
 
 zaiiy.:" 
 Some mumljle-news, some trencher-Icnight, some 
 
 Dick,— 
 Thatsmiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick 
 To make mv lady Jaugh, when she's disposd,— 
 Told our intents before: wh:ch once disclosd, 
 The ladies did cliange favors; and then we. 
 Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she, 
 Now, to our perjury to atld more terror. 
 We are again forsworn ; in will, and error. 
 Much upon this it is :— And might not you, 
 
 \T0 BOYET. 
 
 Forestall oursport, to make us thus untrue 7 
 Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,* 
 
 And lau.rh upon the apple of her eye ! 
 And st;ind between her baek, sir, and the fire, 
 
 Holding a trencher, jesting merrily ? 
 You put our page out : (io, you are allow'd ; 
 Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. 
 You leer upon me, do you T there's an eye, 
 ^Vnunds like a leaden sword. 
 
 Buyet. Full merrily 
 
 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. 
 Birun. Lo. he is tilting straight ! Peace ; I have 
 done. 
 
 Enter Costakd, 
 
 Welcome, pure wit ! thou partest a fair fray. 
 
 Cost. (), Lord, sir, they would know 
 Whether the tliroe worthies shall come in, or no. 
 
 Biron. What, are tlieie but three 1 
 
 (kist. No, sir ; but it is vara fine. 
 
 For every one pursciits three, 
 
 Biron. And three times thrice is nine. 
 
 > ^Tnk*' no liiftu'ulty. a Conspiracy. 
 
 • Uuffoou. * Square, rule. 
 
 Cost. Not so, sir ; under correction, sir; I hope, 
 it is not so ; 
 You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir ; we 
 
 know what we know. 
 I liopc, sir, three times thrice, sir, — 
 
 Biron. Is not nine ! 
 
 Cost. Under correction ; sir, we know whereuntil 
 it doth amount. 
 
 iii/*o/i.by Jove, I alwaystook three threes for nine. 
 
 Co6t. (>, Lord, sir, it were a pity you should get 
 your living by reckoning, sir. 
 
 Biron. How much is it 1 
 
 Cost. O^ Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the 
 actors, sir, will sliow whereuntd it doth amoiint : 
 for my own part, 1 am, as they say, but to perfect 
 one man,-e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir. 
 
 Biron. Art tliou one of the wortliies ■ 
 
 Cost. It pleased them, to think mc worthy of 
 Pompion tlie lireat : for mine own part, I know not 
 the degree of the worthy : but 1 am to stand for him. 
 
 Biron. G:> bid thcni prepare. 
 
 Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir ; we will take 
 some care. [Exit Costaud. 
 
 King. Bir6i!, they will shame us, let them not 
 approach. 
 
 Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord ; and His 
 some policy 
 To have one show worse than tlie king's and his 
 company. 
 
 King. I say tliey shall not come, 
 
 Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you 
 now ; 
 That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: 
 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents 
 Die in the zeal of them which it presents, 
 Their form confounded makes most form in mirth; 
 When great things laboring perish in their birth. 
 
 Birun- A right description of our sport, my lord. 
 Enter Armapo. 
 
 Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of 
 thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. 
 LAuMADo converses tvitti the King, and de- 
 livers fd/n a paper. 
 
 Prin. Doth this man serve God? 
 
 Biron, Why ask you? 
 
 Prin. He s^)euks not like a man of God's making. 
 
 Ar/n. Thats aU one, my fair, sweet, honey 
 monarch: for, 1 protest, the schoolmaster is ex- 
 ctedhig fantastical; loo, too vain; too, too vain: 
 But we will put it, as they sav, to fortunate delta 
 gutrra. 1 wish you the peace of mind, most royal 
 couplement ! [Exit Armaho, 
 
 King. Here is like-to be a good presence of wor- 
 thies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, 
 Pomjiey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; 
 Armadns page, Hurculoa; the pedant, Judas Ma- 
 chaba^us: 
 
 A nd if these four worthies in their first show thrive, 
 I'hese four will change habits, and present the 
 other five. 
 
 Biron. There is five in the first show. 
 
 King. You are deceiv'd, tls not so. 
 
 Biron. The pedant, the braggard, the hedge- 
 priest, tlie fool, and tlie boy : — 
 Abate a throw at novum;* and the whole world 
 
 again, 
 Cannot piek out five such, take each one in his vein. 
 
 King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes 
 amain. 
 [Scuts brought for the King, Princess, 4"C. 
 
 Pageant of the Nine Worthies. 
 
 Enter CosTvni) arot^dfor Pompey. 
 
 Cost. 1 Pompey ant, 
 
 Boi/et. You lie, you are not he. 
 
 Cost. 1 Pompey am J 
 
 Boyet. With libbard's head on knee. 
 
 Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs b© 
 
 friends with thee. 
 Cost. / Pontpiy am., Pompey surnam^d the Mg-, — 
 Dum. The great. 
 
 Cost. It isgr?•fa^ sir : — P ompey sum cm'd the greats 
 Tliut oft in field, with targe and a hit Id, did make 
 
 my foe to sweat : 
 And, ti'avelling along this coast, 1 here am come 
 
 by chance: 
 And iai! my arms before the legs of this siveet 
 
 lass (if France. 
 
 » A game with dice. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LObT. 
 
 151 
 
 If your latlysijip would say, Thanks, Pompei/, I 
 had done. 
 
 Prut, (ireat thanks, great Pompey. 
 
 Cost, 'Tis not so much wortli ; but, I hope, I was 
 perfect; 1 made a hltle fault in great. 
 
 Birun. My iiat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves 
 the best worthy. 
 
 Enter Natuaxikl G?-m"rf, /or Alexander. 
 Nath. When in ike world I liv^dj 1 was ike 
 
 world's commander^ 
 Py east, westy norik, and souihj I spread my con- 
 quering might.- 
 Ml/ ''scutcheon piain declares, thai 1 am Alhande?'. 
 Bo'jet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it 
 
 stands too right. 
 Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender 
 
 smelling knight. 
 Prin. The conqueror is dismay 'd. Proceed, good 
 
 Alexander. 
 Nalh. When in the world 1 liv\l,I was the 
 
 icorld's Commander; — 
 Boyet. Most true, 'tis right', you were so, Ali- 
 sander. 
 
 Biron. Pompey the great, 
 
 Cost. V our servant, and Costard. 
 
 Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Ali- 
 sander. 
 
 Vost. 0, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown 
 Alisander liie conqueror! You will be scraped out 
 of the painted cloth lor this: your lion, that holds 
 his poH-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to 
 A-jax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, 
 and afearcd to speak ! run away for shame. Alisan- 
 der. LNath. re{ira>\. There, an't shall please you; 
 a foohsh mild manj an honest man, look you, and 
 soon dash'd ! He is a mar\-eIlous good neighbor, 
 in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisan- 
 der, alas, j'ou see, how 'tis; — a little oerparted: — 
 But tliere are worthies a coming will speak their 
 mind in some other sort. 
 Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. 
 
 Enter HoLOFEK>ri:s amid, and Moth arnVd, for 
 Hercules. 
 
 liol. Great Hercules is presented hy this imp; 
 Whose club kiU'd Cerberus that 'three headed 
 canus; 
 And tvken he was a babe, a child, a sfirimp, 
 
 Thus did he stra)igle serpents in his manus: 
 Quoniam. he secmclh in minority; 
 Krgo, 1 cojiie willi this apolagy. — 
 Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. 
 
 [Exit Moth. 
 Jlol. Judas 1 am,— 
 Bum. A Judas! 
 HoJ. Not Iscariot. sir. — 
 Judas- 1 aniy ycltptd Machahceus. 
 JJum. Judas MachabfEus clipt, is plain Judas. 
 Biron. A kissing traitor; — how art lliou i^rov'd 
 
 Judas? 
 Hoi. Judas lam, — 
 
 Bum. The more shame for you, Judas. 
 Hoi. What mean you, sir ? 
 Boyet. To make Judas Iiang himself. 
 
 Hoi. Begin, sir; you are my elder. 
 
 Biron. Well foUow'd: Judas was hang'd on an 
 elder. 
 
 Hoi. I will not be put out of countenance. 
 
 Biron. Because thou hast no face. 
 
 Hoi. What is this] 
 
 Boyet. A cittern head. 
 
 Bum. The head uf a bodkin. 
 
 Biron. A deatli's face in a ring. 
 
 Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce 
 seen. 
 
 Boyet. The pummel of Ccesars faulchion 
 
 X>«7'i. The carvd bone face on a flask. 
 
 Birun. St. George's half-cheek in a brooch. 
 
 Bum. Ay, in a brooch of lead. 
 
 Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth- 
 drawer : 
 And now, forward ; for w^e have put thee in coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 HoJ. You have pul mc out of countenance. 
 
 Biron. False ; we have given thee faces. 
 
 Hnl. But you have outl'aced them all. 
 
 Biron. An thnu wcrt a hon, we would do so. 
 
 Boyet. Thorefore. as he is an ass, let him go. 
 And so, adieu, sweet Judc! nay, why dost thou stay? 
 
 Bum. For ihe latter end of his name. 
 
 Biron. For tiie ass to tJieJude; give it him; — 
 
 jL;d-as, away. 
 Hi}l. This IS not j-enerons, not gentle, not humble. 
 Boyti. A h^rx lor Monsieur" Judas: it grows 
 
 dark, he may stumble. 
 Prin. Alas, poor Alachaba^us, how hath he been 
 
 baited ! 
 
 {Exit HoLorinxts. 
 
 Enter AnMAiio arm'd,for Hector. 
 
 Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes 
 Hector in arms. 
 
 Bum. Though my mocks come home by me, I 
 will now be merry, 
 
 Ki/ig. Hector was but a Trojan m respect of this. 
 
 Boyet. But is this Hector? 
 
 Bum. I think. Hector was not so clean tiinherd. 
 
 Jjuig. His leg is too big for Hector. 
 
 Bum. More calf, certain. 
 
 Boyet. No ; he is best indued in the small. 
 
 Bu'on. This cannot be Hector. 
 
 Bum, He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. 
 
 Arm. The armipotent JMurs, of lances the al- 
 mighty, 
 Gave Hectvr a gift, — 
 
 Bum, A gilt nutmeg. 
 
 Biron. A lemon. 
 
 Long. .*>tuck with cloves. 
 
 Bum. No, cloven. 
 
 Arm. Peace! 
 The anitijxiteni Mars, of Umces the almighty. 
 
 Gave Jicctor a gij't, the ticir if Lion; 
 A man so breath d, (hat certain he would fight, yea, 
 
 Front morn till night, out of his pavilion. 
 1 am itiatjlower, — 
 
 Bum. That mint. 
 
 Long. That columbine. 
 
 Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 
 
 Ltjng. 1 must rather give it the rem; for il runs 
 against Hector. 
 
 Bum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. 
 
 Arm- The sweet war-man is dead and rotten* 
 sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried; 
 when he breath d, he was a man. — But I will for- 
 ward with my device: Sweet royalty, [To the Prin- 
 cess.] bestow on me the sense of hearmg# 
 
 [Binox whU^pers Costatid. 
 
 P7-in. Speak, brave Hector; we are much de- 
 lighted. 
 
 Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. 
 
 Boyet. Loves her by the foot. 
 
 Bum. He may not bj' the yard. 
 
 Arm. This Hector far surnumnted HunnibaL — 
 
 Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, slie is 
 gone ; she is two months on her way. 
 
 Arm. What meanest Ihou \ 
 
 Cost. Faith, unless you \)\ay the hotlcst Troj;in 
 the poor wench is cast away: she s quick; the 
 child brags in her belly already; 'tisynurs. 
 
 Arm. iJost thou infamonize me among poten- 
 tates! thou slialt die. 
 
 Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jacque- 
 nctta that is quitk by him ; and hanged, for Pom- 
 pey that is dead by him. 
 
 Bum. Most rare Pompey ! 
 
 Boyet. Renowned Pomi>ey ! 
 
 Bi>on. Greater than great, great, great, great 
 pompey ! Pompey the huge ! 
 
 Bum. Hector trembles. 
 
 Biron. Pompey is mov'd: — More Ates,i more 
 Ates ; stir them on ! stir them on ! 
 
 Buai. Hector will challenge him. 
 
 Biron. Ay. if he Ivive no more man's blood in'a 
 belly than will sup a Ilea. 
 
 Arm. By the north pole. I do challenire thee. 
 
 Cost. I will not flight with a pole, like a norlhern 
 man ; Fit slash; ril do it by the sword: — I pray 
 you, let ine borrow my arms again. 
 
 Bum. liooin for the incensed worthies. 
 
 Co.st. 1 11 do it in my shirt. 
 
 Bum. Most resolute Pompey ! 
 
 Moth. Master, let me taxe you a button-hole 
 lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncaMug for 
 the combat .'What mean you? you will lose your 
 reputation. 
 
 Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me: I 
 will not combat in my shirt. 
 
 « Ate was the goddess of discord. 
 
152 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Duffi. You may not deny it: Pompey hath 
 made tJie clialk-n-c. 
 
 Arm, Sweet bloods, I both may and will. 
 
 Biron- What reason Iiave you Tor t ! 
 
 Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. 
 I go woolvvard'' lor penance. 
 
 Boi/tt. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome 
 for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he 
 wore none, but a dish-clout of Jacquenettas and 
 that 'a wears next his heart for a favor. 
 
 Enter Meucade. 
 
 Mer. God save you, madam ! 
 
 Prin. Welcome, Mcrcade; 
 But that thou interrupfst our mciTiment. 
 
 Mer. I am sorry, madam ; for tlie news I bring, 
 Is heavy in my ton;^uo. The kin^ your lather — 
 
 Prin. Dead, for my life. 
 
 Mdr. Even so; my tale is told. 
 
 Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to 
 cloud. 
 
 Arm- For mine own part, I breatiie free breath: 
 I have seen the day of wrong through the little 
 hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a 
 soldier. [iLxeunt Worthies. 
 
 King. How fares your majesty ] 
 
 Prin. Boyet, prepiire; I will away to-night. 
 
 King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. 
 
 Pri/i. Prepare, 1 say,— 1 thank you, gracious 
 lords. 
 For all your fair endeavors; and entreat, 
 Out Ufa new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe 
 In your rich wisdom, to excuse or hide, 
 The liberal^ opposition of our spirits: 
 If over-boidly we have borne ourselves 
 In the converse of breath, your gentleness 
 Was guilty of It. — Farewell, worthy lord! 
 A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : 
 Excuse me so, cummg so short of thanks 
 For my great suit so easily obtained. 
 
 King. The extreme parts of time extrelmey form 
 All causes to the purpose of his speed; 
 And often, at his very loose, decides 
 That which long process could not arbitrate: 
 And though the mourning Urow of progeny 
 Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, 
 The iioly suit which fain it would convince; 
 Yet, since love's argument was Iirst on foot, 
 Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it 
 From what it purposd ; since, to wail friends lost. 
 Is not by much so wholesome, protitable, 
 As to rejoice at friends but newly found. 
 
 Prin. 1 understand you not; my griefs are double. 
 
 Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of 
 grief; — 
 A nd by tliese badges understand the king. 
 For your fair sakes have we neglected time, 
 Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, 
 Hath much defonn'il us, fashioning our humors 
 fclveii to the opposed end of our intents : 
 And wliat in us hath seem'd ridiculous, — 
 As love is full of unbefitting strains : 
 All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain : 
 p'ormd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye. 
 Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, 
 Varying in su!ijects as the eye doth roll 
 To every varied object in his glmce : 
 Which party-coated presence of loose love 
 Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, 
 Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, 
 Tliose heavenly eyes, tliat look into these faults, 
 Suggested us to make: Therefore, ladies, 
 Our love being ytiurs, the error that lovc makes 
 Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false, 
 iiy being once false for ever to be true 
 To those that make us both, — fair ladies, you : 
 And even tliat falsehood, in itself a sin, 
 Tlnis purities itself, and turns to grace. 
 
 Prin. We have recciv'd your letters, full of love; 
 Your favors, the embassadors of love ; 
 And, in our maiden council, rated them 
 At courtsliip, ]ileasant jest, and courtesy. 
 As bninbasL, and as liiiiiig to the time : 
 But more devout Ihuii this, in our respects, 
 Have we not been ; and therefore, met your loves 
 In their own fuishion, like a merriment. 
 
 Dmn. Our Utters, madam, show'd much more 
 than jest. 
 
 Long. So did our looks. 
 
 t Clothed in wool, without linen. e Free to excess- 
 
 Ros. We did not quotes them so- 
 
 King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, 
 Grant us your loves. 
 
 Prin. A time, methinks, too short 
 
 To nudvc a world-without-end bargain in : 
 No, no, my lord, your grace is peijur'd much. 
 Full of deargudtniess; and theieJbre this,— 
 If for my love las there is no such cause) 
 Vou will do auLiht, this shall you do for me: 
 Your oath I will not trust ; but go with s^ieed 
 To some forlorn and naked hermitage, 
 Kemole from all the pleasures of the world ; 
 There stay, until the twelve celestial signs 
 Have brought about their annual reckoning ; 
 If this austere insociable lile 
 Change not your oiler made in heat of blood ; 
 If iVosts, and fasts, hard Judging, and thin weeds, 
 Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, 
 But that it bear tliis trial, and last love ; 
 Then, at the expiration of the year. 
 Come challenge, challenge me by tliese deserts, 
 And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine, 
 I will be thine ; and, till that instant, shut 
 My woeful seU' up in a mourning iiouse ; 
 Raining the tear? of lamentation, 
 For the remembrance of my father's death 
 If this thou do deny, let our hands part ; 
 Neither mtitled in the other s heart. 
 
 King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, 
 
 To llatter up these powers of mine with rest, 
 The sudden hand of death close up mine eye ! 
 
 Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. 
 
 Biron. And what lo me, my lovc i and what to 
 me i 
 
 Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank • 
 Vou are attaint with faults ami perjury ; 
 Therefore, if you my favor mean to get, 
 A twelvemonth you shall spend, and never rest, 
 But Etek the weary beds of people sick. 
 
 Dunt. But what tome, my love f but whatto me? 
 
 Kalh. A wife !— A beard, fair health, and ho- 
 nesty ; 
 With three-fold love I wish you all tliese three. 
 
 Vum. O, shall 1 say, I thank you. gentle wife I 
 
 Kath. Not so, my lord ;— a twelvemontli and a day 
 111 mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say * 
 Come when the king doth to my lady come. 
 Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. 
 
 Du'nu III serve thee true and faillifuUy till then. 
 
 Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be Ibrsworn again. 
 
 Long. What says Maria i 
 
 Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, 
 
 111 change my black gown for a faithful friend. 
 
 Lintg. FUstay with patience; but the time is long. 
 
 Mar. The liker >ou ; few taller are so young. 
 
 Biron. Studies my lady I mistress, look on me 
 Behold the window of my h.eart, mine eye, 
 What liumble suit attends thy answer tiiere ; 
 Impose some service on me for thy love. 
 
 Ros. Oft have I heard of 5 ou, my lord Birun, 
 Before I saw you : and the world s large tongue 
 Proclaims you tor a man replete with mocks ; 
 Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ; 
 WJiich you on all estates will execute, 
 That he within the mercy of your wit : 
 To weed this wormwood from yuur fruitful brain; 
 And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, 
 I Without the which 1 am not to be won.) 
 Vou shall this twelvemonth term from day to day 
 Visit the speechless sick, and still converse 
 With groaning wretches ; and your task shall be, 
 W ilh all the fierce endeavor of your wit 
 To entbrce the pamed impotent to smile. 
 
 Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of 
 death ] 
 It cannot be; it is impossible: 
 Mirth cannot move a sou! in agony. 
 
 Ros. W'hy, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, 
 Whose influence is begot of liiat loose grace, 
 Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: 
 A jest s prosperity lies in tlie ear 
 Of him that hears it. never in the tongue 
 Of him that makes it : thou if sickly years, 
 Deaf d with the calmurs of their own dear groans 
 Will hear your idle scorns, contuiue then. 
 And 1 will have you, and that fault withal ; 
 Hut. if they will not, throw away that si)int, 
 And 1 shall tind you empty of that faull, 
 Kight j'lyful of your reformation. 
 
 » KcgarJ. 1 Clothing. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST. 
 
 153 
 
 Biron. A twelvemonth 1 well, befal what will 
 
 beta I, 
 I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. 
 Prills Av.sweet my lord: and so I take my leave. 
 [To the KiNB. 
 King. No, madam : we will bring you on your 
 
 way. 
 Virun. Our wooingdoth not end like an old play ; 
 Jack liath not Jill ; these ladies' courtesy 
 Wight well have made our sport a comedy. 
 King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a 
 day, 
 A nd then 'twill end. 
 Bb-un. That's too long for a play. 
 
 Enter Aiimado. 
 
 Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, — 
 
 J'rin. Was not that Hector ! 
 
 Viim. The worthy knight of Troy. 
 
 Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger and take leave : 
 I am a votary ; I have vowed to Jacquenetta to hold 
 the plough for her sweet love three years. But, 
 most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue 
 that the two learned men have compiled, in praise 
 of the owl and the cuckoo ] It should have followed 
 in the end of our show. 
 
 King. Lall tliem forth quickly, we will do so. 
 
 Ann. Holla ! approach. 
 
 Enter. HoLOFEnxES, Nathaniel, Motd, Cos- 
 ta rii, and ofkers. 
 This side is Hiems, winter ; this Ver, the spring; 
 the one maintaiii'd by the owl, the other by the 
 cuckoo. \'er, begin. 
 
 SONG. 
 I. 
 
 Spring. fVlien daisies pied, and violets blue. 
 And lady sniucks all silver-iv/iite, 
 And cuckiui-fi'id.i nf \jellow hue. 
 
 Do paint tht: iniddows with deliglit, 
 Tlie cuckoo then, on ecerij tree, 
 
 Mocks married men, fur tlius sings lie, 
 
 • Cuckoo ; 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo, — word of fear, 
 Unpleusing to a married tar ! 
 
 II. 
 When sliephcrds pipe on oaten straivs. 
 
 And merry larks are plougfimen's clocks, 
 Wfien turtles tread, and rooks and daws. 
 
 And nKii'te us bl tack their summer smocki 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
 Mucks married men, fur thus sings he. 
 
 Cuckoo ; 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo,— O word of fear, 
 Vnpleasing to a man-ied ear .' 
 III. 
 Winter. When icicles hatig by the ivall. 
 
 And iJick the shepherd blows his naiu, 
 And Tom bears lugs into the hall. 
 
 And milk comes frozen tiume in pail. 
 When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, 
 Then niglilty sings the staring owl, 
 
 Tu-wlio ; 
 Tu-whit, tu-icho, a merry nute, 
 W/iile greasy Joan doth keel'^ lite ]>ut. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When all aloud the wind doth blouf. 
 
 And roughing drowns the parton'ssaTv, 
 And birds sil brfioding in the snow, 
 .■\nd Marian's nose looks red and raw. 
 When rousted crabi,' hiss in the bowl, 
 'Then nigMly sings the staring uwl, 
 
 To-who ! 
 Tu-tvhit, to-who, a merry note. 
 While greasy Joan doth Keel the pot. 
 
 Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh alter tf.e 
 songs of Apollo. You that way; we, lliis way. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 1 Soum. » Wild applv;s. 
 
i^IERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 DrKE OF. Venice. 
 
 PllINCE OF MOHOCCO, }§.;;;„,.;, ,opojtia. 
 PllIXCE OF AkkAGON,) 
 
 Antoxio, the Merchant of Venice 
 Bassasio, his Friend. 
 
 Salanio, ^ 
 Salarino, > 
 GnATiA>'o,\ 
 
 Friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 
 
 Lorenzo, i/z tnve icit/i 3es&'\ca. 
 
 SiiYLucK, a Jetc. 
 
 'I'L-RAL, c Jtn; his friend. 
 
 Lauxcelot Gob bo, a Clown, Seri^cmt to Sliylock. 
 
 OldGoBBO, Father /o Launcelot. 
 Salzrio, (I Me-.'sen^cr front Venice. 
 Leosauuo, Servant to Bassanio. 
 
 Balthazar, 
 Stepuaso, 
 
 'S.rvants to Portia. 
 
 Portia, a rich Heiress. 
 Nerissa, her IVaiting-Maid. 
 Jessica, Dausliter to Sliylock. 
 
 Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of tJie Court of 
 Justice, Gaoler, Servants and other Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Astosio, Salariso, and Sala?(io. 
 
 Ant. In sooth, I know not wliy I am so sad ; 
 It wearies me; you say it wearies you; 
 But how I caught it, (bund it, or came by it, 
 What stufl''ti3 made of, whereof it is born, 
 I am to lea.n ; 
 
 And such a want-wit sadness makes ot me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself. 
 
 eular. Your mind is tossing on tlie ocean ; 
 There, wliere your arijosies' witii portly sail,— 
 Like signiors and rich burghers ol the Hood, 
 (Ir, as it were, the pageaiils of the sea, — 
 Do ovcrpeer the petty traflicKers, 
 That curt'sy to tlieiii, do tliem reverence. 
 As they Hv by them with their woven wings. 
 
 Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
 The better part of my allections would 
 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be stiU 
 Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; 
 Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 And every object, that ini/rht make me fear 
 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
 Would make me sad. 
 
 Salur. My wmg, cooling my broth. 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
 But I should think of shallows and ol flats; 
 And see ray wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand. 
 Vailiu"'' her hi^h-top lower thiui her ribs. 
 To kiss her biirud. Should 1 go to church. 
 And see the holv edil'u-e of stones, 
 And not bethink me stiaiglit ot dangerous rocks! 
 Which touching but my gentle vessel's side 
 Would scatter all her spices on Ihe stream ; 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks; 
 And in a word, but even now worth this, 
 And now worlh notbiiig ! Shall I have the thought 
 To think on this ; and shall 1 lack the thought, 
 Tliat such a thing, buchaiic'd, would make me sad .' 
 But, tell not me; I know, Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his niercliandize. 
 
 Ant. Believe me, no : 1 thank my fortune for it. 
 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
 Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune nf this present year: 
 Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. 
 
 Salan. Wliy then you arc in love. 
 
 Ant. !• ye, fye ! 
 
 Salun. Not in love neither! Then let's say, you 
 are sad. 
 
 • Ships of large burden. 
 l.")4 
 
 2 Lowering. 
 
 Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
 For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, 
 Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed 
 
 Janus, 
 Nature hatti framed strange fellows in her time: 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, 
 And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; 
 And others of such vinegar aspect. 
 That they II not show their teeth in way of smile, 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughter. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble 
 kinsman, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well ; 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 Salar. I would have staid till 1 had made you 
 merry. 
 If worthier If lends had not prevented me. 
 
 Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And J ou embrace the occasion to depart. 
 
 Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 
 Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? 
 Say, when ! 
 You grow exceeding strange: Must it be sol 
 
 Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 li,'j;cii;(( Salarino uh./ Salanio. 
 
 Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found 
 Antonio, 
 We two wdl leave you : but, at dinner-time, 
 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
 
 Bass, 1 will not firil you. 
 
 Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio; 
 You have too much respect upon the world : 
 They lose it, that do buy it with much care. 
 Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
 
 Ant. 1 hold the world but as the world, (iratiano; 
 A stage where every man must play a part. 
 And mine a sad one. 
 
 Gra. Let rae play the Fool : 
 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine. 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 Why should a man, wdiose blood is warm withm. 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster'! 
 Sleep when he waUesI and creep into the jaundica 
 liy being peevish ! 1 tell thee what, Antonio, — 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks; 
 There are a sort of men, whose visages 
 Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; 
 And do a wilful stillness' entertain, 
 ■\Vith jiurpose to be dressd in an opinion 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 
 ' Obntinate eilence. 
 
iScENE II. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 155 
 
 As who should say, I urn sir Oracle^ 
 
 And, when 1 upe uiij lips, lei nu dug bark.' 
 
 (>, my Antonio, 1 do know of these. 
 
 That therefore only are reputed wise, 
 
 For saying notinn,'; who, 1 am very sure. 
 
 If IIr y should spealc, would almost damn those ears, 
 
 Wlncii, hearing ihem, would caM their brothers, fools. 
 
 I'll tell thee more of this another time: 
 
 But lish not, with this melancholy bait, 
 
 For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion. — 
 
 Come, good Lorenzo; — Fare ye well, a while; 
 
 I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
 
 Lur. VV ell, we will leave you then till dinner-time : 
 I must he one of these same dumb wise men, 
 For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
 
 Gra. W ell, keep me company, but two years more, 
 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 
 
 Aiit. Farewell: 111 grow a talker for this geiur. 
 
 Gni. llianks, i faith ; for silence is only com- 
 mendable 
 In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 
 yExeaitl GuA riANo and Lohenzo. 
 
 Ant. Is that any thing now ! 
 
 Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, 
 more than any man in all Venice: liis reasons are 
 as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff ; 
 you shall seek all day ere you liiid them ; and, when 
 you have them, they arc not worth the search. 
 
 Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
 That you to-day proniis'd to tell me ol .' 
 
 Bliss. 'lis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
 How much I have disabled mine estate, 
 By something showing a more swelling port 
 Than my faint means would grant continuance: 
 Nor do 1 now make moan to be abridg'd 
 From such a noble rale ; but my chief care 
 Is, to come fairly off from the great debts. 
 Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
 Hath left me gaged : To you, Antonio, 
 I owe the most, in money, and in love ; 
 And from your love I have a warranty 
 To unliurthen all my plots, and purposes, 
 How to get clear af all the debts 1 owe. 
 
 Ant. 1 pray you, good Bassanio. let mc know it; 
 And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
 Within tiie eye of honor, be assured. 
 My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
 Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 
 
 Bass. In my school-days, when 1 had lost one sliafl 
 I shot his fellow of the sell-same (light 
 The self same-way, with more advised watch, 
 To rind the other forth ; and by advent'ring both, 
 I oft found b(3th : I urge this cluldhond prool, 
 Because what follows is pure innocence. 
 I owe you mucii ; and, like a wilful youth. 
 That which I owe is lost: but if you please 
 To shoot another arrow that self way 
 Which you did shoot the hrst, I do not doubt, 
 As I will watch the aim, or to hnd both, 
 Or bring your latter hazard b;ick again, 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the tirst. 
 
 Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but 
 time. 
 To wind about my love with circumstance; 
 And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong. 
 In making question of my uttermost. 
 Than if you had made waste of all 1 have : 
 Tlien do bat say to me what 1 should do. 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
 And I am prest' unto it: therefore speak. 
 
 Bas-i. In Belmont is a lady richly left. 
 And she is fair, and, lairer than that word, 
 Of wond'rous virtues; sometimes* from her eyes 
 I did receive fair speechless messages: 
 Her name is Portia : nothing undervalued 
 To Cato's daugliter, Brutus' Portia. 
 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks 
 Hang on her temples like a golden llecce; 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' strand, 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
 
 my Antonio, had I but the means 
 To hold a rival place with one of them, 
 
 1 have a mind presages me such tiirift, 
 That I siiould questionless l)e fortunate. 
 
 Ant. Thou know'st, that all my lortuncs are at sea; 
 Nor have I money, nor commodity 
 
 • Ready. * Fonnorly. 
 
 To raise a present sum ; tij'reibre go forth, 
 fry what my credit can in \eniee do; 
 That shall be rack'd, even to tne uttermost, 
 lo furnish thee to Hclmont, to lair Portia. 
 Go, presently inquire, and so will 1, 
 Where money is; ami 1 no question make, 
 lo have It ol my tru»l, or for ray sake. {Exeunt, 
 SCENE II. — Belmont. A Room in Portia's Iluuse. 
 Enter Poktja and Nebissa. 
 
 Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body k. 
 a-weary of this great world. 
 
 Ate. You would be, sweet madam, if youi mi- 
 series were in the same abundance as your good 
 fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they aie as 
 sick, that surfeit with too mucli, as they tiiat starve 
 witli nothing: It is no mean happiness, therefore, 
 to be seated in the mean; superiluity comes sooner 
 by wliite hairs, but competency lives ion:;er. 
 
 Pur. t;ood sentences, and well pronounced. 
 
 Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 
 
 Pur. II to'di were as easy as to know what were 
 good to do, chajjels had been chuiches, ami poor 
 mens cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good di- 
 vine that tbllows his own instructions : 1 can easier 
 teach twenty what were good to be done, than be 
 one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. 
 The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot 
 temper leaps over a cod decree: such a hare is 
 madness the youth, to skip oe r the meshes of aood 
 counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not .si 
 the fashion to choose me a iiusband : — 1< mc, the 
 word cfioose ! I may neither choose whom 1 \\ ould, 
 nor refuse whom 1 dislike; so is the will ot a liv- 
 ing daughter curb d by the will of a dead father : — 
 Is it not hard, ISerissa, that I cannot dioose one, 
 nor refuse none. 
 
 A'tv. Voiir father was ever virtuous; and iioly 
 men, at their death, have good inspirations; there- 
 fore, the lottery that he hath devised in liiese three 
 chests of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chooses 
 his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, never bo 
 chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall right- 
 ly love. But what warmth is there in your affection 
 towarJs any of these princely suitors that are 
 already come ! 
 
 Pur. I pray thee over-name them ; and as thou 
 nainest them, I will descrite them; and, according 
 to my description, level at my allectioii. 
 
 JV'tv. First, there is the Jseapolitan prince. 
 
 Pur. .\y, I hats a colt, indeed, lor lie doth noth- 
 ing but talk ol his horse; and he makes it a great 
 approprialioii to his own good parts, that he can 
 shoe him himself: I am much airaid, my lady, his 
 mollier, pkned false with a smith. 
 
 Ker. 'I lieii. is there thecoumj' Palatine. 
 
 Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should 
 say, An if you wilt nut kure ni:, choose; he hears 
 merry tales, and smiles not: I fear lie will prove 
 the weeping philosopher when he grows old. being 
 so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. 1 had 
 rather be married to a death's head with a bone in 
 his mouth than to either of these. God defend me 
 from these two ! 
 
 A'fv. How say you by the French lord, monsieur 
 Le Bon? 
 
 Por. God made him, and therefore, let him pass 
 for a man. In truth, 1 know it is a sin to be a 
 mocker ; l)ut, he ! why. he liatli a horse better than 
 the Neapolitan's; abetter bad habit of fiowiiing 
 than the count Palatine: he is every man in no 
 man: if a throstle sing, he falls straight acapermg-; 
 he will fence with his own shadow : If 1 should 
 marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: If 
 he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if 
 he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. 
 
 Ncr. What say you tlien to Faulconbridge, tno 
 young baron of England! 
 
 Por. You know I say nothing to him ; for lie un- 
 derstands not me, nor I hiin: he hath neither La- 
 tin, French, nor Italian ; and you will come into 
 the court and swear, that I have a pour penny worth 
 in the English. He is a proper man's picture ; But, 
 alas ! who can converse with a dumb sliow ! How 
 oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his doublet 
 in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in 
 Germany, and his behavior every where. 
 
 A't;-. What think you of the Scottish lord, his 
 neighbor ! 
 
 I Count. 
 
15G 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act L 
 
 Par. Tliat he lialti a ncUhborly charity in him; 
 for he borrowed a box or Un; car of liie iingiish- 
 maii, and swore lie would p.iy Jiim a;^aiii, when he 
 was able ; 1 think, the Frenchman became his surety, 
 and sculfd under for another. 
 
 Ntr. How like you Uie younj; German, the duke 
 of hinxony'd nephew .' 
 
 Par. V ery viieiy in the mornins when he is 
 sober ; and most vjlely in the al^ernoon, when he is 
 dnniK: when ne is best, he is a little worse than a 
 man ; and when he is worst, he is little belter than 
 a beast: and the worst tall that ever tell, 1 hope, 1 
 shall make shift to go without him. 
 
 iVV/-. If lie should otVer to choose, and choose tlie 
 right casket, you should refuse to perform your fa- 
 ther's will, if you should refuse to accept him. 
 
 Pur. Tlierefore, for fear of the worst,! pray thee, 
 set a deep ^lass of Kliemsh wine on the contrary 
 casket ; for, if the devil be \viihtn, and that teinjita- 
 tion without, I know he will choose it. [ will do 
 anythiiij;, Nenssa, ere I will be married to aspuny:e. 
 
 Ner. Vou need not fear, lady, the having any of 
 these lords, they liave acquainted me with their de- 
 terminations: which IS indeed, to return to their 
 liome, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless 
 you may be won by some other sort than your la- 
 lliefs imposition, depending' on llie caskets. 
 
 pur. If 1 live to be as old as fciibyila, 1 will die 
 as ciiuste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the 
 manner of my father's w'lU : I am glad this parcel 
 of wooers are so reasonable: for there is not one 
 amonj; them but I dote on his very absence, and 1 
 pray (iod i;rant them a fair departure. 
 
 iVt7*. Do you not remember, latly, in your father's 
 time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came 
 hitlier in company of the Marquis of Montferrat] 
 
 Pur. Ves, yes, it was Bassanio; as 1 thmk, so 
 was he called. 
 
 Ner. i rue, madam ; he of all the men that ever 
 my loolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserv- 
 ing a fair lady'. 
 
 Por. 1 remember him well; and I remember him 
 worthy of thy praise. — How now ! what news ! 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, 
 to take their leave : and there is a fore-runner come 
 from a fiJth, the prince of Morocco ; who brings 
 word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night. 
 Por. If 1 could bid the fifth welcome with so good 
 heart, as I can bid the other four farewell, I should 
 be glad of his approach ; if he have the condition,' 
 of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had 
 rather he should shrive nie than wive me. Come, 
 Nenssa, — Sirrah go before. — Whiles we shut the 
 gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— Venice. .4 Public place. 
 Enter Bassamo and Shylock. 
 
 Shi. Three thousand ducats,^ well. 
 
 B^i^S' Ay, sir, for three months. 
 
 Sky. For three months, — well. 
 
 Bati-<. For the which, as [ told you, Antonio shall 
 be bound. 
 
 Shtj. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 
 
 Bd^s. May you stead me ! Wdl you pleasure me! 
 Shall 1 know your answer] 
 
 Sky. Three thousand ducats, for three months 
 and Antonio bouml. 
 
 Bass. Vour answer to that. 
 
 Shti Antonio is a good man. 
 
 Buss. Have you heard any imputation to the 
 contrary f 
 
 Sky. Ho, no, no, no. no; — my meaning, in saying 
 he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that 
 lie is sulhcient: yet his means are in supposition: 
 lie hatli an argosy bound to friijolis, another to the 
 Indies; 1 understand moreover upon the Rialto, he 
 
 hatha third at Mexico, a tourth for Knglaud, 
 
 and other ventures he hath, squander'd abroad: 
 But ships are bat b.ards, sailors but men: there be 
 iand-rats, and water-rats, water-thieves, and land- 
 thie\es; 1 mean, pirates; and then, there is the 
 peril of waters, winds, and rocks: The man is, not- 
 withstaudmg, buthcient; — three thousand ducats; 
 -I think I may take liis bond. 
 
 B(uss. Be assured you may. 
 
 Shy. 1 will be assured, 1 may; and, that I may 
 1 Tt-mpur, quaHtifS. 
 
 be assured, I will beth.nk me: May I speak witb 
 Antonio ] 
 
 Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
 
 Shy. \ es, to sineil ])ork ; to oat of the habita- 
 tion which 3'our prophet, the iNaiiarite conjured 
 the devil into: 1 will buy witJi j ou, sell willi you, 
 talk With you, wa;k witli you, and so following; 
 but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor 
 pray with you. What news on the Rialto'— Who 
 IS he comes here l 
 
 Enter Axtomo. 
 
 Buss. This is signior Antonio. 
 
 Sky. \Aside-\ Huw like a fawning publican he 
 looks! 
 I iiate him, for he is a Christian : 
 But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
 He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in V emce. 
 If 1 can catch him once upon the hip, 
 1 will feed fat the ancient grudge ) bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
 (in me, my bargains, and my well won thrift, 
 Winch he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe, 
 if I forgive hnn ! 
 
 Buss. t^hylock, do you hear I 
 
 Shy. I am debating oi my present store ; 
 And, by the near guess of my memory, 
 I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
 i)f full three thousand ducats: Vvhatofthati 
 'lubal, a wealthy HebrevV ol my tribe, 
 Will furnish me; liut soit ; How many months 
 Do you desire ! — iiesl you lair, good signior; 
 
 [To Antonio. 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
 
 Ant. Sihyiock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow. 
 By taking, nor by giving of excess, 
 Yet to supply the ripe wants^ of my friend, 
 I II break a custom:— Is he yet possessd,^ 
 How much you would ! 
 
 Sky. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats 
 
 Ant. And for three months. 
 
 Shy. I had ibrgot, — three months, you told me so. 
 
 Well then, your bond ; and, let me see, But 
 
 hear you ; 
 Mcthought, you said, you neither lend nor borrow, 
 Upon advantage. 
 
 Ant. I do never use it. 
 
 Sky. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban'a 
 sheej). 
 This Jacob irom our holy Abraham was 
 (As his wise mother wrought in Ins behalf) 
 The third possessor; ay, he was the third. 
 
 Ant. And what of hnn 1 did he take interest ] 
 
 Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say, 
 Directly interest: mark what Jacob did. 
 When Laban and himself were compromis'd. 
 That all the eanhiigs which were streak d, and pied, 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being rank. 
 In the end of autumn turned to the rams: 
 And when the work of generation was 
 Between these woolly breeders m the act. 
 The skilful shepherd peef d me certain wands, 
 And in the doing of tlie deed of kind,' 
 He stuck them up before the fulsonie ewes; 
 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 Fall p;rfty-color'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
 Tins was the way to thrive, and he was blest; 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
 
 Ant. Ihis was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd 
 for; 
 A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
 But sway'd and fashion'd, by the hand of heaven. 
 Was tiiis inserted to make interest good] 
 Or IS your gold and silver, ewes and famsl 
 
 Shtf. 1 cannot tell: 1 make it breed as fast: — 
 But note me, signior. 
 
 Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, 
 
 The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
 An evil soul, producing holy wilness, 
 Is lilie a villain witli a smiling check: 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart ; 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 
 
 Shy. I'hree thousand ducats, — 'tis a good round 
 sum. 
 Tliree months from twelve, then let me see the rate. 
 
 Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you % 
 s 'U'a.uta which admit no longer delay. ^ luformed 
 
 » Nature. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MERCHANT 01' VKNICJ 
 
 157 
 
 Shy. Si;^nior Anlnnio, many a time and oft. 
 In the Kialto you have rated me 
 About my monies, and my usances;'* 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shru:r ; 
 For sutlerancc is tlie badije of a/l our tribe: 
 Vou cal] me — misbeUevcr, cut-Throat dog, 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
 And all for use of thai which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears, you need my lielp: 
 Gi. to then; you come to me, and you say, 
 Shiflock, we uould hart titonies ; You say so; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
 And foot me, as you sj)urn a stranger cur 
 Over your threshokl ; monies is your suit. 
 What should 1 say to you ! should 1 not say, 
 Hath a dog moncij? is it pos^ihlt^ 
 A cur can ten i tfirtfe thousand ducats? or 
 S!.all I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
 With 'baled breath, and whisi»ermg humbleness, 
 
 Say this, 
 
 Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 
 You spurn'd tut suck a dmj; anat/ier lime 
 You. calVd me — dog; and J. - these cottrtesies 
 III lend you thus much nunves? 
 
 Ant. T am as like to call thee so again, 
 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friends; (for w en did friendship take 
 A breed for barrt-n melal of his friend?) 
 But lend it rattier to thnio enemy ; 
 Who if lie break, thou may st with better face 
 Kxact tliC penally. 
 
 Sky. Why, look you, how you storm ! 
 
 I would be friends witli you, and have your love, 
 Forget the shames that you have slain'd me with. 
 Supply your present wantj>, and take no doit 
 Of usmce for my monies, and you'll not hear me. 
 This is kind I oiler. 
 
 Ant. This were kindness. 
 
 Shy. This kindness will I show : 
 
 Go wiih me lo a nuUiry, seal me tliere 
 
 ^ our sin^;e bond ; and, in a merry sx^orl. 
 
 If you repay me not on such a day, 
 
 In such a place, such ,*^um. or sums, as are 
 
 K.\])rfssM ni the condition, let the forfeit 
 
 lie nominated for an equal pound 
 
 ()f yuur fair tlesh, lo be cut oil' and taken 
 
 In what jmrt of your body pleascth me. 
 
 Aut. Conlt-nlj in failh ; I'll sea! to such a bond, 
 Ami say. tiicre is much kindness in the Jew 
 
 Buss. You shall not seal to such a bond for me, 
 I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 
 
 Ant. Why, fear not, man : 1 will not forfeit it ; 
 Withm these two months, that s a month before 
 This hoiid expires, 1 do expect return 
 Of Ihrice three times the vame nf this bond. 
 
 Shy.U lather Abraham, what these Cl'.ri?tians are, 
 Whose own hard dealings leaches them suspect 
 The thouixhts of others ! Pray you. tell me this; 
 If lie should break his day. what should I gain 
 By the exaction oMhe forfeiture? 
 A pound of mans llesh. taken from a man, 
 Is not so estunable, prolitable neither. 
 As ilesh of muttons, beefs, or goals. I say 
 To buy his fivor, I extend this friendsliip: 
 If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
 And, for my love. I pray you, wrung me not. 
 
 .-1///. Yes, shyloek, I wdl seal unto this bond, 
 
 Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; 
 Give him direction for this merry bund, 
 And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 
 See lo my house, lel't in tlie fearful suard 
 Of an unthrifty knave; and presently 
 I will be Willi jou. [ExiJ 
 
 Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 
 
 This HebrcV*' will turn ( hristian ; he grows ki.T* 
 
 Bass. I like not fair terms, and a vilhwn's raina 
 
 Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay 
 I\Iy ship? 'ytHM* '■'orae a m'^':*ii b<^fore the day. 
 
 {Exeunt 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — Belmont. A roum in Portia's 
 
 Flourish of Comets. Enter tlie Prince nf JIo- 
 
 rocco fmrf /lis Train ; I'oiitia, Neuissa, a/i(i 
 
 otiitr of tier Attendants. 
 
 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion. 
 The shadow'd livery of the hurnish d sun, 
 To whom I am a neiirhltor, and near bred. 
 Bring me the fairest creature nortliward born, 
 ■\Vliere Phcebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles. 
 And let us make incision ^ Ibr yovir love. 
 To prove whose lilood is reddest, Iiis, or mine. 
 ' tell thee. lady, this a^p^ct of mine 
 Hath fear'd* the valiant; by my love, I swear, 
 The best regarded virgins of our clime 
 Have love'd it too ; 1 would not change this hue, 
 Kxcept to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 Por. In terms ot choice 1 am not stilely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me tiie right of voluntary choosing : 
 But, if my father liad not siianted me, 
 And hedg'd me by his wit, to j icld myself 
 His wife, who wins nie by the means I told you. 
 Yourself, renownd prince, then stood as fair, 
 As any comer 1 have look'd on yet, 
 For my affection. 
 
 Mnr. Even for that I thank you ; 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to Ihe caskets, 
 To try ray fortune. I'.y this scimitar,— 
 That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince. 
 That won three fields of sultan .Solyman. — 
 I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look. 
 Out-brave the lieart most daring on the earth. 
 Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she bear. 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey. 
 To win thee, lady : But, alas the while ! 
 If Hercules, and Lichas, play at dice 
 2 Interest. 
 
 ' Anu.iion to the Ea.sterQ custom for lovers to testify 
 their passion by cutting theni.^elves in their mistresses' 
 light. * Terrified . 
 
 Which is the lx>-t€i ;jtaii, the greater throw 
 May lurn by fo.-'ii a from the weaker hand: 
 So is Alcides bcabTi by his page ; 
 And so may I, blinl fortune leading me, 
 Miss that which one onworthier ma'y attain, 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Por. You must take your chance ; 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all. 
 Or swear, before you choose, — if you choose wrong, 
 Never to spcjik to lady at^erward 
 in way of marriage ; therefore be advis'd. 
 
 Mor. Nor will not ; come, bring me unto tny 
 chance. 
 
 Por. First, forward to the temple; afier dinner 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 
 Mor. Good fortune then ! [Cornets. 
 
 To make me bless't or curseil'st among men. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Venice. A Street. 
 
 Enter Launcelot Gobeo. 
 
 Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to 
 run from this .lew, my master: The fiend is at 
 mine elbow ; and tempts me, saying to me. Gnb'jn, 
 Luuncclot iiobho, noiid Launcelot, or gowl Gobbo, 
 or good Liiunctlol Gobbo. rife your Iff^t; iuhe llie 
 start, run r/"vji/ ; My conscience says,— »»; lake 
 heed, honest Ln'unrcl'ot ; take lieed. honest Gobbn ,• 
 ar, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not 
 run ; scorn runninii with thy heels : Well, the most 
 courageous fiend, bids me pack; via.' says the 
 fiend ; away J says tlie fiend, fm- the heavens ; 
 rouse up a brave mind, says the fiend, und run. 
 Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of 
 my heart, says very wisely to me, — nni liunest 
 friend Lnuncrbil, being an honest man's fon, — or 
 rather an honest woman's son ; — for, indeed, my 
 l^rther did something smack, something grow to, 
 he had a kind of taste :— -well, my conscience says; 
 Launcelot, (ud/gp not,- bud^e, says the fiend; 
 budge not, says my conscience : Conscience, say I, 
 you counsel well; fiend, say I, you counsel well; 
 
153 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENUIK, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 to he ruled by my cuiiscience, 1 should stay With 
 t;ic Jew my master, who ,God bless the mark !) 
 is a kind oi devil ; and, lo run away from the Jew, 
 1 should be ruled by the liend, who, savmg your 
 reverence, is the devil hunselt: Certainly, the Jew 
 is the very devd imarnatioii; and, in my conscience, 
 my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to 
 otlice to counsel me to stay with the Jew : The iiend 
 Hives Ihe more Crjendly counsel: I will run, fiend ; 
 luy heels are at your commandment. I wdl run. 
 
 Enter uUl Goi\Jsu,v;ith a Basket. 
 Gob. Master, youiiij man, you, I pray you; 
 which is the way to master Jew s ! 
 
 Laun. \Asiie.\ O heavens, this is my true-he- 
 B-ollen father! who, being more than sand-bhnd, 
 fiigh-gravel blind, knows menot:— 1 will try con- 
 clusions > with him. 
 
 Go'). Master, youns gentleman, I pray you, 
 which is the way to master Jew's ! 
 
 Lii-tii Turn up on your right hand, at the next 
 turniii', but, at the next turning of all, on your 
 left; iuarry,at the very next turning, turn ot no 
 nand, l)ut turn down indirectly to the Jew's house. 
 
 Gut). By God's soi.ties, twdl be a hard way to 
 hit. Can you tell lue whether one Launcelot, that 
 dwells with him, dwell with him or no ' 
 
 Lduii. Talk you of young master Launcelot 1— 
 Mark mcnow; j.T i</f,l now will 1 raise the waters: 
 —Talk you of young master Launcelot ! 
 
 Guii. No, master, sir, but a poor man's son; his 
 fatlicr, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor 
 man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 
 
 Luiin. \S ell, let his fitlicr be what he will, we 
 talk of young master Launcelot. 
 
 Guh. Vour worships friend and Launcelot, sir. 
 
 Lmin. But 1 pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I be- 
 seech you; i'alk you of young inasler Launcelot ! 
 
 Gob. Of Launcelot, auT please your mastership. 
 
 Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot; talk not ot 
 master Launcelot, father ; for the young gentleman 
 (accordins to fates and destinies, and such odd 
 savings, the sisters three, and such branches of 
 learnmg.) is indeed deceased; or, as you wouli 
 say, in blain terms, gone to heaven. 
 
 Gob. Marry, God f rbid! the boy was the very 
 stair of my age, my very prop. 
 
 iMun. Do 1 look liivc a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a 
 stalf, or a prop^— Uo you know me, lather ! 
 
 Gob. Alack, the day. 1 know you not, young 
 gentleman ; but, 1 prav you, tell me, is my boy, 
 'God rest his soul! alive, or dead] 
 
 Luun. Do you not know me, lather ! 
 
 Go'). A.lacK,sir, 1 am sand-blind, I know you not. 
 
 Laun. Kay. indeed, if vou had your eyes, you 
 might fail of the knowing of me : it is a wise latlier, 
 that know= his own child. Well, old man, I will 
 tclUvou news of your son : Give me your blessing: 
 truth will come to light; murder cinnot be hid 
 long, a man's son may ; but, in the end, truth v^iU 
 
 "go6. Pray you, sir, stand up ; I am sure you are 
 not Launcelot, my boy. • ^ ,• u . 
 
 hiun. Pray you, let shave no more fooling about 
 it, lint give me your blessing ; I am Launcelot, your 
 boy that was, your son that is, your child that 
 shall he. 
 
 Go'^. I carmnt think you are niy son. 
 
 Laun. 1 know not what 1 shall think of that . 
 but 1 am Launcelot, the lew's man ; and, 1 am sure, 
 Marterv, your wife, is my mother. 
 
 Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I 11 he sworn, 
 if thou be Launcelol, thou art mine own llesh and 
 blood. -Lordwoishipp'dmighthebe! whata beard 
 hast thou got ! tli.iu hast got more hair on Ihy chin, 
 than Dobbin, mv thi.l-horses has on his tail. 
 
 Laun. it sho'uld seem, then, that Dobbin s tail 
 grows backward ; I am sure he had more hair on his 
 tail, than I have on mj' face, when 1 last saw him. 
 
 Gob. Lord how art Ihou changed! How dost 
 thou and tli.v inasler agree ! 1 have brought him a 
 present; How 'gree you now! 
 
 Luun. W ell. well ; but for mine own part, as I 
 have set up my vcsl to run away, so I will not vest 
 till I have run some ground: my master s a very 
 Jew : Give him a present! give bun a halter : 1 am 
 famish'd in his service; you m;iy tell every hnger 
 I have with my ribs. KatI.er, 1 ain glad you are 
 come ; give me "your present to one, master Hassa- 
 <. Espwimeots. « -Shaft-horse. 
 
 nio, who indeed, gives rare new livcr.es; if I servo 
 not liim. 1 will run as lur as God has any ground. 
 ( 1 rare fortune ! here comes the man ;— lo him, fa- 
 ther, for 1 am a Jew, if 1 serve the Jew any longer 
 
 Knter Bassanio, icitli Lr.o>-AHDO, and other 
 Followers. 
 
 Sa.w. You may do so; — but let it be so 1 asted, 
 that supper be ready at the farthest by live of 
 the clock: S-ee these letters deliver d; put the 
 hveries to making; and desire Gniliauo lo come 
 anon to my lodging. [Lxit a bervanU 
 
 Luun. lo hiin, liither. 
 
 Gob. God bless your worship ! 
 
 Bans. Graniercy; Wouldst thou aught with me! 
 
 Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, 
 
 Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew s 
 man ; that would, sir, as my father shall specily,— -- 
 
 Gob. Hath he a great inlcction, sir, as one would 
 say, 10 serve ... . , 
 
 Laun. Indeed the short and the long is, I serve 
 the Jew, and 1 have a desire, as my lather shall 
 specify, . . , 
 
 Gob. His master and he, (saving your worship s 
 reverence.) are scarce cater-cousins: 
 
 LuuH. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew 
 having done me wronir, doth cause me, as my 
 father, being I hope an old man, shall Irutity unto 
 
 Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I would 
 
 bestow upon your worship; and my suit is, 
 
 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to 
 
 myself, as your worship shall know by this honest 
 
 old niHii ; and, though 1 say it, though an old man, 
 
 yet, poor man, my father. 
 
 Jjuis. cue speak for both ;— Wh.at would you ! 
 
 Luun. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Gob. This IS the very defect of llie matter, sir. 
 Baas. I know Hue well, thou hast obtain'd thy 
 suit: 
 Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day, 
 ,\iul hath prelerr'd thee, if it be preferment, 
 'I'o leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
 Laun. The old proverb is very well parted be- 
 tween my master Shylock and you, sir ; you have 
 the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. 
 Bass. Thou speak'st it well: Go, lather, with 
 thy son :— 
 Take leave of the old master and enquire 
 My lodging out:-Give him a hyery 
 
 ■' ° |2o /ij.s- lollowers. 
 
 More guarded'' tlian his fellows : See it done. 
 
 Luun. Father, in :— I cannot get a service, no ; 
 — 1 have ne'er a tongue m my head. — Well ; \lvoK- 
 ins on liU: patm.\ if any man in Italy have a lairer 
 table • which doth oiler to swear upon a book. 1 
 sliau'have good fortune ; Go to, here s a simple line 
 of hie ' here's a small trille of w ives : Alas, htleen 
 wives is nothing ; eleven widows, and nine maids, 
 IS a simple coming in for one man : and then, to 
 scape drowning Ihrice ; and to be in peril ot my 
 life with the eiUe of a feather-bed ;— here are simple 
 scapes ' \Vell,"if fortune be a woman, she s a good 
 wench for this gear.— Father, come ; I'll take my 
 leave of the Jew in the twinkling ot an eye. 
 
 [Exeunt Launcelot and old Goiino. 
 JSa'S I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this; 
 These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd, 
 Keturn in haste, for I do feast to-inght 
 Mv best-esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go. 
 Leon. My best endeavors shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiaso. 
 
 Gm. Where is your master 1 , , . 
 
 r ,,,,, 'Vonder, sir, ne walks. 
 
 ^" Exit LebNAiiro. 
 
 Grfl. Signior Bassanio, — 
 
 Bass. Gratiano ! 
 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. , . ■ ,j ■. 
 
 n' " You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gm.You must not deny me; I must go with 
 
 '"jja«." w"™ ihen you must ;-But hear thee, 
 
 Gratiano; , , , , , 
 
 Thou art ton wild, too rude, and bold of voice ;— 
 Parts that become thee happily enough. 
 Ami in such eyes as ours appear not laulls ; 
 1 OrnnmentcJ. • The palm of the hand wteaided. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 159 
 
 But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
 Something too liberal ;»— pray thee, take pain 
 To allay wMti some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skippiiifj spirit ; lest, through thy wild be- 
 havior, 
 I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit, 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
 Nay mofe, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen ; 
 Use all the observance of civility, 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent > 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Buss. Weil, we sliall see your bearing."* 
 
 Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not 
 gage me 
 By what we do to-night. 
 
 Bass. No, that were pity ; 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
 That purpose merriment : But Ikre you well, 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gni, And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest ; 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II I.— ^ Room in Shylock's Hmine. 
 
 Enter Jkssica and Lacncelot. 
 
 Jes. I am sorry, thou wilt leave my father so ; 
 Our house Is hell, and tliou, a merry devil. 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tcdiousness : 
 But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee. 
 And. Luuncelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
 Lorenzo, wlio is tliy new master s guest : 
 tJive him tliis letter; do it secretly, 
 And 50 farewell ; I would not have my father 
 See me talk with thee. 
 
 Laun. Adieu ! — tears exhibit my tongue, — 
 Most beautiful pa^an, — most sweet Jew ! If a 
 Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, 1 
 am much deceiv'd : But, adieu ! these foolish drops 
 do somewhat drov^'U my manly spirit ; adieu ! [Exit. 
 
 Jes. Farewell, good Launcolot. — 
 Al ick, what heinous sin it is in me 
 To be ashamed to be my fathers child ! 
 But though 1 am a daughter to Ins blood, 
 I am not to his manners : O Lorenzo, 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife ; 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit. 
 
 SCKNE IV.-.4 Strett, 
 
 Enter Giiatiano, Lorknzo, Salarino, and 
 
 S ALAN 10. 
 
 Lftr. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time ; 
 Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
 All in an hour. 
 
 Gra. We have not made good preparation. 
 
 S ilai: We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 
 
 Sa/an. "l'\'ti vile, unless it may be quaintly orJer'd; 
 And better, in my mind, not undertook. 
 
 Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock ; we have two 
 hours 
 To furnish us : — 
 
 Enter Launcelot, jvifh a Letter. 
 
 Friend Launcelot, what's the news? 
 
 Lann. And it shall please you to break up tins, 
 it shall seem to signify. 
 
 Lnr. 1 know the hand : in faith, "tis a fair hand ; 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on, 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 
 Gra. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Laun. By your leave, sir. 
 
 Lor. Whither goest thou ; 
 
 Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master th^ Jew 
 to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 
 
 Lor. Hold here, take this : — tell gentle Jessica, 
 I will not fail her ;— speak it privately ; go. — 
 Gentlemen, [Exit LAfxcEtOT. 
 
 Will you prepare >ou for this masque to-night I 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 
 Sa/ar. Ay, marry, TU be gone about it straight. 
 
 Halan. And so will L 
 
 J^or. Meet me, and Gratiano, 
 
 Al Graliano's lodiring some hour hence. 
 ' Licentioui". ' Show of staid and serious demeanor. 
 
 > Carriagej Uepoi 'incut. 
 
 Salar. 'Tis good we do so, 
 
 [Ex tint Salah. and Salax. 
 
 Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ! 
 
 Liir. I must needs tell thee ail : i>he hath directed, 
 How I shall take her from her lather's house ; 
 What gold, and jewels, she is furnish'd with ; 
 What page's suit she hath in leadniess. 
 If e'er the Jew, her father, come to heaven, 
 It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
 And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
 Unless she do it under this excuse, — 
 That she is issue to a faithless Jew, 
 Come, go with me ; peruse this, as thou goest: 
 Fair Jessica shall be my toreh-bearer. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \.— Before Shy lock's Hoiwe. 
 Enter Sar hoc K and Lacxcelot. 
 
 Shy, Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy 
 judge, 
 The dillcrence of old shy lock and Bassanio :^ 
 What, Jessica !— thou sliait nut gormandize, 
 As thou hast done with me : — W hat, Jessica !^ 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out : — 
 Why, Jessica, 1 say ! 
 
 L'lun. Why, Jessica ! 
 
 ^k'j. Who bids thee call .' i do not bid thee tall. 
 
 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I could 
 do nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jes. Call you ^ W'hat is your will ? 
 
 Shy. 1 am bid ^ forth to supjicr, Jessica ., 
 There are my keys : — But wlieretore shoulu i go ? 
 1 am not bid for love ; they Ilaiter me : 
 But yet ril go in hate, to teed upon 
 The prodigal Christian. — Jessica, my girl. 
 Look to my house : — I am right loath to go ; 
 There is some ill a brewing towards my rest. 
 For I did dream of monej -bags to-night. 
 
 Laun. I beseech you, sir, go ; my young master 
 doth expect your rcproaeli. 
 
 Sliy^ So do I his. 
 
 Laun. And they have conspired together,— I 
 will not say, you shall see a masque ; but if you do, 
 then it was not tor noihing that my nose fell a 
 bleeding on Black-Monday last, at six o'clock i'the 
 morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday 
 was lour year in the anernoon, 
 
 Sky. W hat ! are there ma^q^es ? Hear you me, 
 Jessica : 
 Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum. 
 And the vile squeakuiu' of the wry-neck'd f,le, 
 Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
 Nor thrust your head into tlie public street. 
 To gaze on Christian looJs with va^ni:^h■d faces : 
 But stop my house's ears, 1 mean my casements ; 
 Let not the sound of sliallow foppery enter 
 My sober house, — By Jacob's siall, I swear 
 1 have no mind of leasling forth lo-liight : 
 But 1 will go. — Go you beroie me, surah • 
 Say, I will come. 
 
 Laun. I will go before, sir. — 
 
 Mistress, look out at window, lor ail this, 
 There will come a t hristian by. 
 Will be worth a Jewess eye. [Exit Laux, 
 
 Sliy. What says that fool of Hagars offsprmg, 
 ha \ 
 
 Jes. His words were. Farewell mistress ; nothing 
 else. 
 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder, 
 Snaif-slow in protil, and he sleeps by day 
 More ihan the wild-cat ; drones hive not with me ; 
 Therefore I part with Inm ; and part with him 
 To one that 1 would ha\c Inm help to waste 
 His borrow'd purse. — W ell, Jessica, go in ; 
 Perhaps, I will return immediately ; 
 Do, as I bid you. 
 
 Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast tind ; 
 A proverb never stale m thrifty mmd. [Exit* 
 
 Jes. Farewell : and if my fortune be not ciost, 
 I have a father, you a daughter, lost [Exit. 
 
 SCENE \l.—The same. 
 Enter Giiatiano and Salauino, masked, 
 Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo 
 DesirM us to make stand. 
 Saiar. His hour is ahnost past. 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour. 
 For lovers ever run before tlie clock, 
 a Invited. 
 
165 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scilar. (), ten times lU.ster \ enus' pi^'eons fly 
 
 To seal ioves bonds new ninde, than thuy are wont, 
 
 'I'o keep obligej laitli unforl'eiled ! 
 
 G/u. I'liat ever liolds : Wlio riBelli from a feast, 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down .' 
 WJiere i^ the horse that doth untread again 
 His tedious measures with the uiibated tire 
 Tliat lie did pace tliem hrst ! All things that are, 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
 How like a younker, or a prodigal, 
 'the scarfed bark puts from hcr'native bay ! 
 Huggd and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
 How like the prodigal doth she return ; 
 With over-weather d ribs, and ragged sails, 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 
 
 Enter Loiieszo. 
 
 Salar. Here comes Lorenzo ; — more of this 
 hereafter. 
 
 Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long 
 abode ; 
 Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait; 
 When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
 I'll watch as long lor you then. — Approach ; 
 Here dwells my father Jew : — Ho! who's within! 
 . Enter Jessica, al/uve, in Boy's clothes. 
 
 Jes. Who are you ? fell me, for more certainty, 
 Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 
 
 Lor. Lorenzo, and tiiy love. 
 
 Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed; 
 For who love 1 so much ! And now wlio ioiows, 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ! 
 
 Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that 
 thou art. 
 
 Jes. Here, catch this casket, it is worth the pains. 
 I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 
 For 1 am much asham'd of my exchange: 
 But love is blind, ami lovers cannot see 
 'file pretty follies that themselves commit: 
 For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 
 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 
 
 Jes. What, must 1 liold a candle to my shames? 
 They in thein-ielves, good sooth, are too loo light. 
 Why. 'tis an ollice of discovery, love ; 
 And I should be obscur'd. 
 
 Lor. So are you, sweet, 
 
 Even in the love!y garnish of a boy. 
 But come at once ; 
 
 For the close night doth play the run-away, 
 And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast, 
 
 Jts. I will make fast the doors, andgild myself 
 
 With some mare ducats, and be with you straight, 
 
 YExit, from above. 
 
 Gra. Now, by my hood, aGenti;e, and no Jew. 
 
 Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily : 
 For she is wise, if 1 can judge of her; 
 And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
 And true she is, as she hath proved herself; 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fare and true, 
 Shall sh3 be placed in my constant soul. 
 
 Enter Jessica, beluw. 
 What, art thou come ! — On, gentlemen, away ; 
 Our masquing inatrs by this time for us stay, 
 
 [Exit, witti Jessica and Salarixo. 
 [Enter As-rosio. 
 
 Ant. Who's tliere? 
 
 Gra. Siguier Antonio? 
 
 Ant. Fye, fye, Ciratiano ! where are all the rest? 
 'Tis nine o'clock ; our I'riends all stay for you: — 
 No masque to-night; the wmd is come about, 
 Bassanio presently will go aboard: 
 I have sent twenty out to seek for you, 
 
 Gra. 1 am glad on t; 1 desire no more delight, 
 Than to be under sail, and gone to-night. [i'jrtuH/, 
 
 SCE.VE VII, — Belmont, A Room in Portia's 
 Ilou.'e. 
 
 Flourih of Cornets. Enter Poiitia, with the 
 Prince if Morocco, and botti thiir 'frains, 
 
 Piir. Go, draw aside t!ie curtains, and discover 
 The several caskets to this noble prince :— 
 Now make your choice. 
 
 Mur. 'file first, of gold, which this inscription 
 bears; — 
 IVho clioo.-eth nie, shall gain what mam/ men desire. 
 The second, s.her, which this promise carries .' — I 
 
 rCAo choostth me, shallget as much as he deserves. 
 This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ; — 
 JVho choostth me, inm-t itiieand hazard alt he haiiu 
 How shall I know if 1 do choose the right? 
 
 Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince; 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 
 Alor. Some god direct my judsmcnt ! Let me see, 
 
 I will survey the inscriptions back again : 
 What says this leaden casket ! 
 
 I I 'Iw clwoseth me, must give and hazard all lie hath. 
 Must give— For what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ? 
 Tins casket threatens ; Men, tliat hazard all. 
 
 Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
 A golden mind stoops not to sliows of dross : 
 I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead. 
 What says the silver, with her virgin hue '. 
 Il'tio chuoseth me, shall get tis- much as he deserves. 
 As much as he deserves ? — Pause there, Morocco, 
 And weigh thy value with an even hand: 
 If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
 Thiiu dost deserve enough; and yet enough 
 May not extend so far as to tlie la'dy ; 
 And yet to be afeard of my deser\ing. 
 Were but a weak disabling of mvself. 
 As much as I deserve ! — Why, that's the lady ; 
 1 do m birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
 In graces, and in qualities of breeding; 
 But more than these, in love 1 do deserve. 
 What if I stray'd no further, but chose here? 
 Lefs see once more this saying grav'd in gold: 
 U'lio chooseth me, stiatt gain ivhut manii men desire. 
 Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her: 
 From the four corners of the earth they come. 
 To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
 The Hyrcaniaii deserts, and tile vasty wilds 
 Of wide Arabia, are as thorough-liires now. 
 For princes to come view fair Portia : 
 The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
 To stop the foreign spirits ; but they come. 
 As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia, 
 One of these three contains her heavenly picture, 
 Is't like, that lead contamsher? 'Twere damnation 
 To think so base a thought : it were too gross 
 To rib< her cerecloth in tiie obscure grave. 
 Or shall I think, in silver she's imniur'd. 
 Being ten times undervalued to try d gold '' 
 O smful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
 Was set in worse than gold. 'I'hey have in England 
 A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
 Stamped in gold ; but thaf s insculp'd' upon • 
 But here an angel in a golden bed 
 Lies all within.— Deliver me the key ; 
 Here do I choose and thrive I as 1 may ! 
 Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form ho 
 there. 
 Then I am yours. [He unloctcs the golden casttet. 
 Mor. hell ! what have we here I 
 
 A carrion death, within whose emiity eye 
 There is a written scroll ? I'll readthe writin"-. 
 All that glisters is not gold, " 
 
 Often hare you heard that told: 
 Many a man his life hath sold, 
 But my outside to behold: 
 Gilded tombs do worms infold, 
 Had you been as wise us bold. 
 Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
 1 Gur answer hud not been inscroll'd: 
 Fare you well, your suit is cold. 
 Cold, indeed ; and labor lost : 
 
 Then tarewell, heat ; and welcome, frost 
 
 Portia, adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart 
 
 To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. [Exit 
 
 Por. A gentle riddance : Draw the curtains • 
 
 go; ' 
 
 Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeun.',. 
 SCENE VIII,— Venice. A Strtet. 
 Enter SALAniso and Salaivio. 
 
 Salar. Why, man, I stiw Bassanio under sail ; 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not. 
 
 Satan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the 
 duke ; 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 
 Salar. He came too late, the sliiji was under sail 
 But there the duke was given to understand. 
 That in a gondola were seen together 
 
 • Enclnse. « Engraven. 
 
Scene IX. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 161 
 
 Lorenzo and liis amttrous Jessica ; 
 Besides, Antonio i-eitily'd Uie duke, 
 They were uol with iiassanio ni his ship. 
 
 Sa/an. I never lieard a i)assion so confus'd, 
 So strange, outrageous, and su variable, 
 As tlje dog Jew did utter in tile streets : 
 M^ dau)fkter ! mij d'MalsI— O my daughter! 
 FieU Willi a Vkristiaii ? — my C/irisliaii ducats! 
 Justice! Ike law! nii/ ducals^ind my daughter! 
 A scaled bug, two sealed bags of duculs. 
 Of double ducat •<, sltilnfnim me by iiiji daughter! 
 And jewels; two stones, two rick and precious 
 
 stones, 
 Slul'n by my daughter!— Justice! find the girl! 
 She hath the stones upini her, and the ducats! 
 
 Su'.ar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him. 
 Crying, — liis stones, his daughter, and Ins ducats. 
 
 Salan. Let good .\ntonio look he keep his day. 
 Or he shall pay tor this. 
 
 Salar. Marry, well reuiember'd : 
 
 I reason'd'- with a Frenchman yesterday; 
 Who told me in the narrow seas, that part 
 The French and Knghsh, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country, riclily fraught; 
 1 thought upon Antonio, wlien he told me; 
 And wisif d in silence, that it were not his. 
 
 Salan. \o\i were best to tell Antonio what you 
 hear ; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salar. A kinder gentleinau treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Vtitoino j>art ; 
 Bassaniii told liini, lie would make some speed 
 Of his return; he answer il — Dit not so. 
 Slub'jer^ not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
 But stay the very riping of lite lime ; 
 And for the Jew's bund, which he hath of me. 
 Let it not enter in your mind of Un'e : 
 Be merry; and employ your chuj'est thoughts 
 To courtship and suchj'air oste/tts' of love 
 A'i shall convenientui become yuu there ■■ 
 And even there his e"ye being bif; with tears. 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind Inm, 
 And with adcetioi} wondrous sensible 
 lie wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted. 
 
 Salan. I think he only loves the world for Inm. 
 I pray thee, let us go, and find him out, 
 And quicken Ins embraced heaviness* 
 With some delight or other. 
 
 Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IX.— Eclmont. A room in Portia's House. 
 i'litoNtuissA, with a Servant. 
 
 Ner. Quick, quick, 1 pray thee, draw the curtain 
 straight; 
 The prince of Arragon Iiad ta'en his oath. 
 And comes to his election jtresciitly. 
 Flourish of Cornels. Knier the I'rince of Am- 
 gon,"PoiiTiA, H/Ki their Trains. 
 
 Por. Behold, there stands the caskets, noble 
 prince. 
 If you choose that wherein I am contain'd. 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd ; 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be gone from iience immediately. 
 
 Ac. 1 am cnjoind by oath to observe three things: 
 First, never to unfold to any one 
 Which casket 'twas 1 chose ; next if I fail 
 Of the right casket, never in my lite 
 To woo a maid in way of marriage ; lastly, 
 If 1 do fail in fortune of iny choice. 
 Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
 
 For. To these injunctions every one doth swear, 
 That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
 
 Ar. And so have I addiess'di me: Fortune now 
 To my heart's hope! — (Jold, silver, and base lead, 
 iVho chooseth me. must give and hazard all he hath: 
 You shall look fairer, ere 1 give, or hazard. 
 What says the golden chest ! ha ! let nie see: — 
 iVho choosetk me shall gain, ivliat many men desire. 
 What many men desire — That many may be meant 
 Conversed. ' To slubher'is to do a thing carelessly, 
 
 *= Shows, tokens. » The heuviuess be xa fouJ of. 
 
 1 Prepared. 
 
 11 
 
 By the fool multitude ihat choose by show. 
 Not learning more than the I'ond eye dolb teach : 
 Which pries not to the interior, but. like the martlet, 
 Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
 Even in the force and road of casuality. 
 I will not clioose what many men desire. 
 Because 1 will not jump' with common spirits. 
 And rank me witii the barbarous multitudes. 
 Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure house; 
 Tell ine once more what title thou dost bear: 
 Wlto ctuioseth me, shall get as much as he deserves; 
 And well saiil too; For who shall go about 
 To cozen I'ortunc, and be honorable 
 Without the stamp of merit ! Let none presume 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 
 O, that estates, degrees, and otflccs. 
 Were not deprivd rorrnptly ! and that clear honor 
 Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! 
 How many then should cover that stand bare ! 
 How many be commanded that command ! 
 How much low peasantry would then be gleair'd 
 From the true seed of honor! and how much honor, 
 Pickd I'rom the chad' and ruin of the times, 
 To be new varnislf d ! Well, but to my choice : 
 li'ho ch'.oseth me, shall get as much as he deserves; 
 I will assume desert; — (.Jive me a Key for this, 
 .\nd inslaiilly unlock my fortunes here. 
 i'ur. Too long a jiause for that which you find 
 
 there. 
 Ar. What's here'! the portrait of a blinking idiot. 
 Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it. 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 
 How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings! 
 IF/to chooseth me shall Ar/i'-.: as much as he deserves, 
 \)\A I deserve no more than a I'ool's head ] 
 Is that my jirize ! are my deserts no better? 
 
 Por. To ollend, and judge, are distinct oOices, 
 .\nd of opposed natures. 
 A r. What is here 1 
 
 The fire .seven times tried this: 
 
 Seven times triid ttiaf Judgment is, 
 
 Thnt did never choose amiss; 
 
 Some there be that shadows ttiss; 
 
 Such have but a shad(av's bliss; 
 
 There befools alive, I wis,' 
 
 Silver'd o'er ; and so was this. 
 
 Take what ivife y(m will to bed, 
 
 I will ever be yin'ir head ; 
 
 Sit beg(ni€, sir, you are sped. 
 
 Still more fool 1 shall appear, 
 
 liy the lime I linger here ; 
 
 With one fool's heart I came to woo, 
 
 But 1 go away with two. 
 
 Sweet, adieu f I'll keej) my oath, 
 
 Patiently to bear my wroth. 
 
 [Kxeunt Arragon, and Train. 
 Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 
 O these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 
 They Jiavc their wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 
 Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy;^ 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 Piir. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. Where is my lady 1 
 
 Pur, Here; wliat wovild my lordt 
 
 Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord : 
 From wliuni he bringelh sensible regrcefs ;• 
 To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath. 
 Gifts of rich value ; yet 1 have not seen 
 So likely an embassador of love : 
 A day in April never came so sweet. 
 To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 As this fore-sjrurrer comes before his lord. 
 
 Por. No more, I pray thee; 1 am halfafeard 
 Tlion wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee, 
 Thon spcnd'st such high-day wit in praising him.— 
 Come, come. Nerissa ; for I long to see 
 Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly 
 Ner, Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be ' 
 
 [Exeunt 
 1 4 .\gree. 3 Know. * Salutiitiona. 
 
162 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— Venice. A Street. 
 Enler Sala>'io and Salaui::?o 
 
 Satan. Now, what new3 on the Rialto ; 
 
 Salar, Why, yet it hves tlicre unchecked, that 
 Antonio hath a ship of rich hitiin;^ wreck'd on the 
 narrow seas; the Goodwins. I think they call the 
 place; a very dangerous flat, and I'atal, where the 
 carcases of many a tall sliip lie buried, as they say, 
 ifni}' g05.?iprep.n"t be an honest woman of her word. 
 
 Satan. 1 would she were as lying a goifi^ii) in that 
 as ever knapp'd icin^er, or ni'ide her neighbors 
 believe she wept for the death of a third husband: 
 But it is true, — without any slips of prolixity, or 
 crossin,^ the plain high-way of talk,— tliat the good 
 
 Antonio, the honest Antonio, that I had a 
 
 title good enough to keep his name company ! — 
 
 Salar. Come, the full stop. 
 
 Sala7i. Ha, — what say'st thou ?— Why the end 
 is, he lutth lost a ship. 
 
 Satar. I would it might prove the end of liis 
 losses ! 
 
 Satan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil 
 cross my prayer ; for here he coines in the likeness 
 of a Jew. — 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 How now, Shylock ] what news among the mer- 
 chants ? 
 
 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as 
 you, of my daughter's flight. 
 
 S'tta?'. That's certain; 1, for my part. Knew the 
 tailor that made the win^s she flew withal. 
 
 Sedan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the 
 bird WIS fledgM; and then it is the complexion of 
 them all to leave the dam. 
 
 Sfii/. She is damn'd fur it. 
 
 Satar. That's certain, if Uie devil may be her 
 judge. 
 
 SH'. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 
 
 Satan. Out upon it, old carrion ! rebels it at 
 these years ] 
 
 S^u. I say, my daughter is my tlesh and blood. 
 
 Sitfir. There is more diflerence between thy flesh 
 and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between 
 your bloods, than there is between red wine and 
 Rhenish: — Hut tell us, do you hear whether An- 
 tonio liave liad any loss at sea or no 1 
 
 SVv- There I have another bad match: a bank- 
 rupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on 
 the Rialto;^- a beggar, tliat used to come so smug 
 upon the mart; — let him look to his bond: he was 
 wont lo call me usurer;— let him look to his bond: 
 he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ; 
 — Ii'^t him look to his bond. 
 
 Satar, Why. I am sure, if he forfL'it. thou wilt 
 not take his flesh ; What's that good for ? 
 
 Shi/. To bait tish withal: if h will feed nothing 
 else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced 
 me, and hindered nie of half a million ; laughed at 
 my looses, niOv'ked at my gains, scorned my nation, 
 thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated 
 mine enemies ; and what's his reason ! Tarn a Jew : 
 Hath not a Jew eyes] hath not a Jew hands, organs, 
 dimensions, senses, afTections, passions! fed with 
 tlie same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject 
 to the same diseases, healed by the same means, 
 warmed and cooled by the same winter and sum- 
 mit, as a Christian is I If you prick us, do we not 
 bh't'd ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you 
 poison us, do we not die ] and if you wrong ys, 
 shall we not revenge? Ifw^e are like you in the 
 rest, we will resemlilc you in tliat. If a .Tew wrong 
 a Christian, what is his humihty? revenge; If a 
 Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sulTerence 
 be by Christian example ] why, revenge. The vil- 
 laiiy you teach me, I will execute; and It shall go 
 hard, but I will better the instruction. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
 house, and desires to speak with you both. 
 Salar. We have been up and down tj seek him. 
 
 Enter Tcbal. 
 
 Satan. Here comes another of the tribe; a thirtl 
 cannot be matched, unless the devil InmseU" turn 
 Jew. {Exeunt Salan., Salau., and Sen'ant. 
 
 Sk]f. How now. Tubal, what news from Genoa? 
 hast thou Ibund my daughter ! 
 
 Tat). I often come where I did bear of her, but 
 cannot And her. 
 
 Sky. Why there, there, there, there ! a diamond 
 gone, cost me two thousand ducats in P'rankfort! 
 The curse never fell upon our nation till now ; I 
 never felt it till now: — two tfiousand ducats in 
 that; and other precious, precious jewels.— 1 would, 
 iny daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels 
 in her ear! 'would she were hearsd at my toot, and 
 the ducats in her cottin ! No news of them \ — Why, 
 so:— and 1 know not what's spent in the search: 
 Why, thou loss upon loss? the thief gone with so 
 much, and so much to find the thief; and no satis- 
 faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring, but 
 what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my 
 breathmg ; no tears, but o' my shedding. 
 
 Tat). Vcs, other men have ill luck too; Antonio, 
 as I heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shi/. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 
 
 Tab. — hath an argosy cast away, coming from 
 Tripolis. 
 
 Stiff. I thank God, I thank God: — Is it true? 
 is it true ? 
 
 Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that es- 
 caped the wn.'ck. 
 
 Stiy. I thank thee, good Tubal; — Good news, 
 good news : ha ! ha ! — Where ? in Genoa ? 
 
 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, 
 one night, fourscore ducats. 
 
 S'lif* Thou stickst a dagger in me: 1 shall 
 
 never see my gold again: Fourscore ducats at a 
 sitting! fourscore ducats. 
 
 Tab. There came divers of Antonio's creditors 
 in my company to Venice, that swear Jie cannot 
 choose but break. * 
 
 .SV(v, 1 am very glad of it: 1*11 plague him; 111 
 torture him ; I am glad ot it. 
 
 Tub. I nie of them showed me a ring, that he had 
 of your daughter for a monkey. 
 
 Shy. Out upon her ! 'I'hou torturcst me, Tubal : 
 it was my torquoise ; » I had it of Leah, when I was 
 a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilder- 
 ness of monkeys. 
 
 Tub. 1-iut Antonio is certainly undone. 
 
 Sh'j. Nay tiiaCs true, that's very true: Go, 
 Tubal, fee me an oflicer, bespeak him a fortnight 
 before: I will have the heart ofhiin, if he forfeit; 
 for were he out of Venice, I can m;ike what nwr- 
 chandize 1 will; Go, go, Tuba!, and meet me at 
 our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our syna- 
 gogue, Tubal. \Exeunt' 
 
 SCi^NP: II. — Belmont. A Room in Tortia's 
 
 House. 
 Enter Bassaxio, Portia, Gratias^o, Nerissa 
 ft;?'/ Attendants. Ttie caskets are set out. 
 Par. I pray you, tarry; i)ause a day or two, 
 Belbre you hazard; for ni choosing wrong, 
 I lose yuur company ; therefore, forbear a while: 
 There's something tells me, (but it is not love,) 
 1 would not lose you ; and you know yoursell, 
 Hate counsels not in such a quality : 
 But lest you should not understand me well, 
 {And yet a maiden hath no tongue *bnt thought,) 
 I would detain you here some inonth or two. 
 Before you venture for me. I could tcacli you 
 How to cho&se right, but then I am fjrsworn; 
 So will I never be: So may you miss me; 
 But if you do, youMl make me wish a sin 
 That 1 had been forsworn- lieshrew your ej*es, 
 They li;ive o'er-lookd me, and divided me ; 
 One half of me is yours; the other half yours, — 
 Mine own, I would say: but if mine, then yours, 
 And so all yours: O ! these naughty times 
 Put bars between the owners and their ritrhts; 
 And so, though your's, not yours.— prove it so, 
 *A precious stone. 
 
SCEXE II. 
 
 MEROHAIsT OF VENICE 
 
 103 
 
 Let fortune to to hell lor it,— not 1. 
 I speak too lon^' : but 'tis to pc;ze« the lime; 
 To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 
 To stay you I'rom election. 
 
 iJasy. Let me choose ; 
 
 For, as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 
 Par. Upon the rack, liassanio ! then confess 
 What treason there is minijlcd willi your love. 
 
 Bnss. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
 Which makes me fear the enj.iying of my love : 
 There may as well be amity and life 
 'Tween siiow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 
 Por. Ay, but, I fear, you speak upon the rack. 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 
 Bass. I'romise me life, and 111 confess the truth. 
 
 Por. Well then, confess and live. 
 
 Bms. Confess and love, 
 
 Had been the very sum of m\- contession : 
 f) happy torment, when my torturer 
 Doth teach me answer for deliverance ! 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 
 Por. .\way then : I am lock'd in one of them ; 
 If you do love me. you will find me out. — 
 Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof. — 
 I-ct music sound while he doth make his choice, 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end. 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, 
 And wat'ry death-bed for him: He may win; 
 And what is music then ? theti music is 
 Kven as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 To a new-crowned monarch : such il is. 
 As .are those dulcet sounds in break of day. 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
 .^nd summon him to marria:;e. Now he goes 
 With no less presence,' but with much more love, 
 Than young .Mcides, when he did redeem 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice, 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 
 With bleared visases. come fortli to view 
 The issue ot' the e.vploit. Go, Hercules! 
 Live thou, 1 live : — With much much more dismay 
 I view the fight, than thou that raak'st the fray. 
 
 Music, ivhilst Bassanto comments on the casket 
 to him.sctf. 
 
 SONG. 
 I. Tell me, where i.s fancy' lirett. 
 Or in the heart or in the head? 
 How begot, how nourished ? 
 Reply. 2. // is en^ender'd in the et/es, 
 
 Wiih gazing fed ,• and fancy dies 
 In the cradle where it Ifes : 
 
 Let as all rinf; fancy's Ifnell; 
 I'll begin if, — Ding, dmig, bell. 
 All. Ding, dong. bell. "^ 
 Bass. ^So may the outward shows be least 
 themselves : 
 The world is still deceiv'rt with ornament. 
 Ill law, what plea so tainted and corrupt. 
 But, being season'd with a gracious voice. 
 Obscures the show of evil] In religion. 
 What damned error, but sonxg sober brow 
 Will bless it. and approve it with a text. 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear \et upon their chins 
 The beard of Hercules, iind frowning Mars ; 
 Who. inward geareh'd, have livers white as milk? 
 And these assume but valor's excrement. 
 To render them redoubted. Look on beauty. 
 And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
 Po are those crisped" snaky golden locks. 
 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 To be the dowry of.", second head ; 
 The scull that bred them, in the sepulchre. 
 Thus ornament is but the guiledi shore 
 To a most danirerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
 Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word. 
 The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, Uiou gaudy gold, 
 • De'ay. "> Dignity of mii^n. ' Love. 
 
 « Curled, i Treacherous. 
 
 Hard food lor Midas, 1 will none of thee: 
 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 
 'I'ween man and man : but thou, lliou meagre lead. 
 Which rather threat'nest than dobt promise aught, 
 Thy plainness moves me more lliou eloquence, 
 Anil here choose I : Joy be the consequence ! 
 Par. How all the other passions llect to air. 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraceddespair, 
 And shuddring fear and green-eyd jealousy. 
 
 love, be nuKleralc.^Uay thy ecstacy. 
 
 In measure rein thy joy, scant this excess; 
 
 1 feel too much thy IJlcssing, make it less, 
 For fear I surfeit ! 
 
 Buss, What find I here? 
 
 I Opening the leaden casket. 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit? What demi-god 
 Halh come so near creation ? Move these ej'es? 
 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
 Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips, 
 Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
 Should sundcrsuchs%vcct friends: Herein her hairs 
 The painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
 A solden itiesli lo eturap the hearts of men. 
 Faster tlian gnats in cobwebs: But her eyes, — 
 How could he see to do them? having made one, 
 Metbinks, it should have power to steal both his. 
 And leave itself unfurnislfd: Yet look, how far 
 T,lie substance of my praise doth w rong this shadow 
 In underprising it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance, — Here's the scroll. 
 The continent and summary of my fortune. 
 Yoit thai choose not by Ike view. 
 Chance as fair and choose as true.' 
 Since t his fortune falls to you. 
 Be content and seek no new. 
 If yon be well pleas' d with this, _ ■ 
 And- hold your fortune for your bliss, 
 
 . Turn yon' where honr ladi) is. 
 And claim her n-ilh a loving kiss. 
 .K gentle scroll ;— Fair lady, by your leave; 
 
 {Kissing her. 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. 
 Like one of two contending in a prize. 
 That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
 Hearing applause and universal snout. 
 Giddy ni spirit, still gazing, in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or no : 
 So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so; 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
 Until confirmd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 
 Par. You see nic, lord Bassanio, where I stand, 
 Such a»i I am : tliough for myself alone, 
 I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
 To wish myself much In-lter; yet, for you, 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself; 
 .\ thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
 More rich : 
 
 That only to stand high on your account, 
 I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
 Kxceed account : but the full sum of me 
 Is sum of something ; which, to term in gross. 
 Is an unlesson"d girl, unschool'd, unpractised: 
 Happy in this she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; and happier than this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 
 Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed. 
 As from lier lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself and what is mine, to you, and yours, 
 Is now converted: but now 1 was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now. 
 This house, these servants, and this same myself. 
 .\re yours, my lord ; I give them with this ring ; 
 Which when you part from, lose, or give away. 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love, 
 .\nd be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 
 Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood .speaks to you in my veins: 
 .\nd there is such confusion in my powers, 
 .\s after some oration fairly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude; 
 Where every something, being blent^ together, 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
 Expressd and not expressd: But when this ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence; 
 O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead. 
 
 iV;r. My lord and lady, it is now our time, 
 a Blen'aed. 
 
164 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act Hi. 
 
 That have stood by, and seen our wialics prosper, 
 To cry, a:ood joy ; Good joy, my lord and lady ! 
 
 G™. My lord liassanio, and my gentle lady, 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
 For I am sure, you can wish none from nie ; 
 And, when your honors mean to solemnise 
 The bargain of your faith, 1 do beseech you. 
 Even atlhat time I may be married too. 
 
 £ass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a 
 wife. 
 
 Gi-a. 1 thankyourlordship ; yon have got me one. 
 My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
 You saw the mistress. 1 beheld the maid; 
 Vou lov'd, 1 lov'd; for inlermission 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 Your fortune stood upon the caslicts there; 
 And so did mine too, as the matter falls : 
 For wooing here. untU I sweat again ; 
 And swearing, till my very root was dry 
 With oaths of love; at last,— if promise last,— 
 I got a promise of this fair one here. 
 To have her love, provided that your fortune 
 Achiev'd her mistress. 
 
 jP(/r. Is this true, Nerissa : 
 
 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 
 
 Bass. And do you, firaliano, mean good faith ! 
 
 Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honor'd in your 
 marriage. 
 
 Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a 
 thousand ducats. 
 
 Ner. What, and stake down? — 
 
 Gra. No ; we shall ne'er win at the sport, and 
 
 stake down. 
 
 But who comes here ! Lorenzo, and his infidel ! 
 What, my old Veneti:in friend, Salerio '. 
 
 Enter LoKESZO, Jf.ssica, nnd Salt.bto. 
 Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; 
 If tnat the youth of my new interest here 
 Have power to bid you welcome : — By your leave, 
 1 bid my very friends and countrymen, 
 Sweet Portia, welcome. 
 
 Por. So do I, my lord ; 
 
 They are entirely welcome. 
 
 lAir. I thank your honor : — For my part, my lord, 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way. 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
 To eorae with him along. 
 
 fidle. I did, my lord. 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 Commends him to you. [Gives Bassimo a liiler. 
 Bass. Ere I ope this letter, 
 
 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 
 Sale. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; 
 Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
 Will show you his estate. 
 
 Gra. Kerissa, clieer yon stranger : bid her welcome. 
 Y'ourhand, Salerio ; What's the news from Venice ! 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ! 
 I know, he will be glad of our success ; 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the (leece. 
 Sale. Would you had won the fleece that he 
 
 lialli lost ! 
 For. There are some shrewd contents in yon' 
 same paper. 
 That steal the color from Bassanio's cheek : 
 Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! — 
 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yuur.scif, 
 And 1 must freely have the half of any thing 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 
 Buss. O sweet Fortia, 
 
 Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words, 
 That ever blotled iiaper ! Gentle lady. 
 When I did first impart my love to you, 
 I f.eely bild you, all the wealth I had 
 Han in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
 And then'I told you true : and yet, dear lady. 
 Hating myself at nothing, you shall see 
 How muc'li I was a braggart : When I told you 
 My estate was nothing, 1 should then have told you 
 Thai I was worse than nothing ; for indeed, 
 I liave engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
 Kngag'd my friend to his mere enemy. 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 
 The pajier as the body of my friend. 
 And every word in it a gasping wound, 
 
 Issuing life-blood.— Bui is it true, Salerio? 
 Have all his ventures faif d ; What, not one l.it ! 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and Kngland, 
 From Lisbon, Barliary, and India ? 
 And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 
 Of merchant-marring rocks ? 
 
 Sale. Not one, my lord. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he h.id 
 Tlie present money to discharge the Jew, 
 He would not take it: never did I know 
 A. creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
 So keen aril greedy to confound a man : 
 He plies the duke at mornijiir, and at night ; 
 Ami doth impeach the freedom of tlie state, 
 II Ihey deny liim justice : twenty mercliants, 
 The duke himself, and the magnificoes a 
 nf greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
 But none can drive him from the envious plea 
 Uf forfeilure, of justice, and his bond. 
 
 yis. When I was with him, 1 have heard him swear. 
 To Tubal, and to Chus, his countrymen. 
 That he would rather have Anlonib's flesh. 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him : and I know, my lord. 
 If law, authority, and power deny not. 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 /■(»•. 'Is it your dear friend, tliat is thus in trouble? 
 Bass. The dearest friend to me, tlie kindest man. 
 The best condilion'd and unwearied spirit 
 In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
 The ancient Roman honor more appears. 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
 Pur. What sum ow^es he the .leu ! 
 Bass. For me, three thousand ducats. 
 Piir. What, no more ? 
 
 Pay him six thousand and deface the bond; 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that. 
 Before a friend of this description 
 Shall lose a hair through my Bassanio's fault. 
 First, go with me to church, and call me wife : 
 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over ; 
 When'it is paid, bring your true friend along: 
 My maid Nerissa and myself, mean time. 
 Will live as maids and widows. Come, away ; 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding-day : 
 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer ; « 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.^ 
 But let me liear the letter of your friend. 
 
 Bass. [Reads.] Sweet Bcssaniii, mij stiipshnwaU 
 itiUcarried, my creditars ^row rruet. my estate is 
 very kia<, my band to the Jeic v'fnrf' it ,- and since, 
 in paying it, it is impossible I shnutd lire, alt 
 debts are cleared heiween you and 1, ;/"/ migA/ liui 
 see you at mi/ deatli : notwitlistanding, use your 
 pteasure ; if your love do not persuade you to 
 cume, let not iny tetter. 
 Por. love, despatch all business, and be gone. 
 Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
 I will make haste: but till I come again, 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
 
 No rest be interposer "twixt us iwain. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 SCENE III.— Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Suylock, Salamio, A>-ton-io, and Gaoler. 
 Shy. Gaoler, look to him ; — Tell not me of 
 mercy; — 
 This is the fool that lent out money gratis ; 
 Gaoler, look to him. 
 Ant. Hear me yet, good Sliylock. 
 
 Shy. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my 
 bond ; 
 I have sworn an oath, that I will have my bond : 
 Thou call'dstme dog, bef >re thou hadst a cause; 
 But since I am a dog, beware my fuigs: 
 The duke shall grant me justice.— I do wonder, 
 Tliou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond > 
 To come abroad with him at his request. 
 Ant. 1 wish thee, hear me speak. 
 S/i(/. I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak, 
 I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I'll not be made a soft and dnil-ey'd fool. 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
 I'll have no speaking ; 111 have mv bond. 
 
 [Exit SlITLOCK. 
 3 The chief men. < Face. ' Foolish. 
 
SCE.N'E V 
 
 MERCHAXT OF VENICE. 
 
 1C.5 
 
 Salaii. It is the iiiJst iini)enetrable cur 
 That ever kept Willi men. 
 
 Ant. r.et hira alone; 
 
 I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
 He seeks my life ; Ins reason well I know ; 
 I oft deliver d from his fo.feitures 
 Many that have at tunes made moan to me, 
 Therefore he hates me. 
 
 Saktii. I am sure the duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
 
 Ant. The duke cannot deny the course of law ; 
 For the commodity that straiu'ers have 
 With us in Venice, if it he denied, 
 Will much iin]jcach the justice of the state ; 
 Since that the trade and protit of the city 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 
 These griefs and los.scs have so 'bated ine. 
 That 1 shall hardly .spare a pound of llesh 
 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
 
 Well, gaoler, on;— Pray God, U.assanio come 
 To see'me pay his de'ot, and then 1 care not ! 
 
 SCENE IV. — Belmont. A room in Portia's H-jiise. 
 
 Enter Poktia, N'etiissa, Loukxzo, Jessica, and 
 Balthazau, 
 Lor. Madam, aUhou:;h I speak it in your presence, 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly 
 In bearing lluis the absence of your lord. 
 But if you know to whom you show this honor, 
 How triie a gentleman you send relief. 
 How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
 I know, you would be prouder of the work, 
 Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
 For. 1 never did repent for doing good. 
 Nor shall now : for in companions 
 That do converse and waste the lime together, 
 Whose sou's do bare an equal yoke of love. 
 There must he needs a like proportion 
 Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit. 
 Which makes me think, that this Antonio, 
 Being tlie bosom lover of my lord. 
 Must needs be like mv lord: If it be so, 
 How little is the cost I have bestow'd. 
 In purchasing the semblance of my soul 
 From out the state of hellish cruelty ! 
 This comes too near the praisin.' of myself : 
 Therefore, no m >re of it : he ir other things. — 
 Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
 Tlie husbandry and manage of my house. 
 Until my lord's return; for mine own part, 
 I have toward heaven breath'd ii secret vow. 
 To live in prayer and contemplation. 
 Only attended by Norissa here. 
 Until her husband and my lord's return : 
 Tliere is a monastery two miles off. 
 And there we will abide. I do desire you, 
 Not to deny this imposition ; 
 The which my love, and some necessity, 
 Now lays upon you. 
 
 Lnr. Madam, with all my heart ; 
 
 I shall obey you in all fiir commands. 
 
 Por. My people do already know my mind, 
 And will acknowledge yon and Jessica 
 In place of lord Has<anio and myself. 
 So fare you well, till we shall meet again. 
 Lor. Fair thoughts, and happy hours, attend on 
 
 you. 
 Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well 
 pleas'd 
 To wish It back on you: fare you well, Jessica. — 
 [Exeunt Jkssica and Lorexzo. 
 Now, Balthazar, 
 
 As I have ever found thee honest, true. 
 So let me hnd thee still: Take this same letter. 
 And use thou all the endeavor of a man. 
 In speed to Padua ; see thou render this 
 Into my cousin s hand, doctor liellario; 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give 
 
 thee. 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
 Unto the tranect, to tlie common ferry 
 Which trades to Venice :— waste no time in words. 
 But get thee gone; I shall be tliere before thee. 
 Batifi. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 
 
 \,i.xit. 
 For. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in Iiand, 
 That you yet know not of: we'll sec our hus- 
 bands. 
 
 Before they think of us. 
 
 Nsr. Shall they see us? 
 
 P./r. They shall. Neris-a ; but in such a habit, 
 That the}' sli.ill liiiiik we are accomplished 
 With what we lack. I'll hold thee any wager. 
 When we are both accouti'ed like young men, 
 I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two. 
 And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 
 And speak, between the change of man and boy. 
 With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 
 Into a manly stride; and speak of frays. 
 Like a tine bragging youth : and tell quaint lies, 
 How honorable ladies sought my love, 
 Which I denyinsr, they fell sick and died; 
 I could not do withal, — then 111 repent 
 And wish, for all that, that 1 had not kiU'd them: 
 And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell. 
 That man shall swear 1 have discontinued school 
 .-Vbove a twelvemonth:--! have within my mind 
 .V thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 Wliich 1 will practise. 
 
 Ner. Why, shall we turn to men 1 
 
 Por. Fie ! what a question's that. 
 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter? 
 But come, I 11 tell thee all my whole device, 
 VN'lien 1 am in my coach, which stays fpr us 
 At the park gate; and therefore haste away, 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— .4 Garden. 
 
 Enter Lauxcelot and Jessica. 
 
 L'lnn. Yes, truly; — for, look you. the sins of 
 the father are to lie laid upon the children: tliere- 
 lore, I promise you, 1 fearjou, I was always plain 
 with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the 
 matter; Therefore, be of good cheer; for, truly, I 
 think, yon are damn'd. There is but one hojie in 
 it that can do you any good; and tliat is but a kind 
 of bastard hope inilher. 
 
 J>.y. .-Vnd what hope is that, I pray thee 1 
 
 Latin. -Marry, you may partly hope that your 
 f.ither got you not, that you are not the Jew's 
 daughter, 
 
 Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed; 
 so the snis of my mother should be visited upon nie. 
 
 L'lttn. Truly then 1 fear you are damn'd boui 
 by father and mother: thus when 1 shun Scylla, 
 your lather, 1 fall into Cliarybdis, your moiier: 
 well, you are gone both ways. 
 
 Jes- I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath 
 made me a Christian. 
 
 Lnun. Truly, the more to blame he; we were 
 Christians enough bel'ore; e'en as many as could 
 well live, one by another: This making of Chris- 
 tians wilt raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to 
 be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher 
 on the coals for money. 
 
 Enter Lorevzo. 
 
 Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you 
 say ; here lie comes. 
 
 'Lnr. 1 shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launce- 
 lot. if you tiius get my wife into corners. 
 
 Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo; 
 Launcelot and I are out: he tells me Hatlj-, there 
 is no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew's 
 daui/hter; and he says, you are no good member 
 of the cominonweallii; for, in converting Jews to 
 Christians, you raise the price- of pork. 
 
 L'l '. 1 shall answer that better to the common- 
 wealth, than you can the getting up of the negro's 
 belly : the Moor is with child by you, Launcelot. 
 
 Luun. It is nui'h, that the Moor should be more 
 tlian reason; but if she be less than an honest 
 woman, slio is, indeed, more than I look her for. 
 
 Lnr. How every fool can play upon the word! 
 I think, the best grace of wit wiii shortly turn into 
 silence; and discourse grow commendable in none 
 only but parrots.— Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare 
 for "dinner. 
 
 7. /UK. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs, 
 
 Lir. Goodly lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! 
 then bid them prepare dinner, 
 
 Luun. That is done too, sir; only, cover is tlie 
 
 word. 
 Lor. Will you cover then, sir! 
 
 Luun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. 
 
 Lof. 'i'et more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt 
 thou show the wliole wealth of thy wit in an in- 
 
1G6 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 instanf] I pray thee, understand a plain man in his 
 p'aiji meannig: go to thy fellows; bid them cover 
 the table, serve in the meat, and we will come 
 in to dinner. 
 
 Laiin. For the table, sir, it shall be served in; 
 lor the meat, sir, it shall be covered; lor your coming 
 ill to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humors and con- 
 ceits shall govern. [Ej.Ht Lauxcelot. 
 
 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words; And 1 do know 
 A many fools, tJiat stand in better place, 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 iJefy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica? 
 And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
 llow dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife? 
 
 Jes. Past all expressing : It is very meet, 
 The lord Uassauio live an upright life; 
 For, having such a blessingin his lady, 
 
 lie finds the joys of heaven here on earth; 
 
 And, if on eartli he do not mean it, it 
 
 Is reason he should never come to heaven. 
 
 Wliy, if two gods should play some heavenly 
 
 match. 
 And on the wager lay two earthly women. 
 And Portia one, there must be something else 
 Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world 
 Hath not her lellow. 
 
 Lor. Even such a husband 
 
 Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife. 
 
 Jcs. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 
 
 Lor. 1 will anon; lirst, let us go to dinner. 
 
 Jes. Nay, let me ijraise you, while I ha've a 
 stomach. 
 
 Lor. Ts'o, pray Uiee, let it serve for table-talk; 
 Then, howsoc'er thou speak'st, "mong otlior tilings 
 I shall digest it. 
 
 Jes. Well, I'll set you forth. [Kveunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — Venice. A Court of Justice. 
 
 Enta- the Duke, ttte Magnificoes; Antonio, Bas- 
 
 sANio, Gratiano, Salariso, Salanio, and 
 
 vt/iers. 
 
 Duke. What, is Antonio liere? 
 
 Ant. Ready, so please your grace. 
 
 Duke. I am sorry for thee; tliou art come to 
 answer 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 From any drain of mercy. 
 
 Ant. 1 have heard. 
 
 Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
 }Iis rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, 
 And that no lawful means can carry me 
 Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
 My patience to his fury; and am arm'd 
 To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
 Tile very tyranny and rage of his. 
 
 Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 
 
 Satan. He's ready at the door: he comes, my 
 lord. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Malie room, and let him stand before our 
 face. — 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too. 
 That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of act; and then, 'tis thought, 
 Tliou It show thy mercy, and remorse,s more strange 
 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty : 
 And where' tliou now cxacfst the penalty, 
 (Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh.) 
 Tliou wilt not only lose the forfeiture. 
 But touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
 Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
 Glancing an eye of pity on his losses. 
 That have of late so huddled on his back ; 
 Enough to press a royal mercliant down, 
 And pluck commiseration of liis state 
 From brassy bosoms, and rough lieart-s of flint. 
 From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd 
 To offices of tender courtesy. 
 We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
 
 Sli)/, I have possessd your grace of wlial I purpose; 
 And' by our holy Sabbath have I sworn. 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 iipon your charter, and your city's freedom. 
 ■\'ou'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
 A weight of carrion llcsh. than to receive 
 Three tliousand ducats : 1 11 not answer that : 
 But, s;iy it is my humor; Is it answer'd ] 
 What if my house be troubled with a rat. 
 And 1 be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it bailed? Wliat, are you answer'd yef! 
 Some men there are, love not a gaping pig; 
 Some that arc mad, if tliey behold a cat; — 
 And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose, 
 Cannot contain their urine; For affection" 
 Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
 Of what it likes, or loaths: Now, for your answer: 
 * Pity. 1 Wheix'os. e I*i-eg uitico. 
 
 As there is no firm reason to be render'd. 
 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
 
 Wliy he, a harnilc>:s necessary cat; 
 
 Why he, a swollen haL^-pipe; but oJ force 
 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame. 
 
 As to offend, himself being oQ'ended ; 
 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 
 
 More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing, 
 
 1 bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
 
 Ba.-iS. This is no answer, thou nufeeling man, 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 Ski/, I am not bound to please thee with my 
 answer. 
 
 Bass. I'o all men kill the things tliey do not love? 
 
 Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill. 
 
 Bass. Every offence is not a hate at iirst. 
 
 Shtj. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting 
 thee twice? 
 
 Ant. Iprayyou, think you question with the Jew ; 
 You may as well go stand upon the UmcIi, 
 And bid the main flood bait his usual height; 
 You may as well use question with the wolf. 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
 When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven; 
 You may as well do any thing most hard. 
 As seek to soften that (than which what's harder ?) 
 His Jewish heart: — Therefore, I do beseech you. 
 Make no more offers, use no further means. 
 But, with all brief and plain conveniency. 
 Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bass. For thy three thousand ducats liere are si:x. 
 
 Shij. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Where in six parts, and every pnrt a ducat, 
 I would not draw them, I would have my bond. 
 
 Duke. How shall thou hope for mercy, reiid'ring 
 none? 
 
 Shy. What judgment sliall I dread, doing no wrong? 
 Y'ljii have ainoiig you many a purrhas'd slave. 
 Which, like your asses, and your dog.s, and mules, 
 \''ou us-e in ab}ect and in slavish parts. 
 Because you bought them : — Shall 1 say to you. 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? 
 Why sweat tliey under burdens? Let their beds 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 Be season'd with such viands. Y'on will answer. 
 The slaves are ours: — So do I answer you : 
 The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
 Is dearly lx>uglit. is mine, and I will have it : 
 If you 'iLMiy inc. fye upon your law ! 
 rtiei-c is nil lorce in the decrees of Venice: 
 1 stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it? 
 
 Dakc. llponmy jwwer. 1 may dismiss this court. 
 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
 Wliom I have sent for to determine this 
 Come here to-day. 
 
 Salar. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenirer with letters from the doctor. 
 New come from i^idua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters; Call the messenger. 
 
 Buss. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man ! cou- 
 rage yet ! 
 
(Scene I. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 1G7 
 
 Tlie Jew sliall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
 Ere thou slialt hi.se lor me one drop of blood. 
 
 Ant. I am a tiinled wether of the floek, 
 Meelest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
 Drops earliest to the ^'round, and so let me : 
 You eannot better be employd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 
 Enter Nehissa, dressed like a Latvyer's Clerk. 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario? 
 Ner. From both, my lord: Bellario greets your 
 graee. [Presents a letter. 
 
 Bass W'-y dost thou whet thy knil'e so earnestly 1 
 Sktj. T« cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt 
 
 ti ere. 
 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, Iiavsh Jew, 
 Thou makst tliy knife keen: but no metal can. 
 No, not tiie hairL-mans ax, bear half the keenne.ss 
 Of thy sharp envy. Can no pra>ers pierce thee! 
 Skij. No. none that thou hast wit enough to make. 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
 And for t.hy life let iusticc be accus'd. 
 Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
 Govern 'd a wolf, who, Iiang'd for human slaughter, 
 Even from the sallows did his fell soul fleet, 
 And, whilst tliou layst in thy unhallow'd dam, 
 Iiifus J itself in thee , for thy desires 
 Are woUish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 
 
 S.Vy. Till thou canst rail the seal from olfmy bond, 
 Thou but oftend St thy lungs to speak so loud: 
 Repair thy wit, sood youth, or it will fall 
 To cureless ruin. — 1 stand here for law. 
 
 D-ike. This letter from Bellario dolli commend 
 A youns and learned doctor to our court ;— 
 W here is he 1 
 
 Ntr. lie attendeth here hard by. 
 
 To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 
 Duke. With all my heart:— Some three or four 
 of you. 
 Go, give hiin courteous conduct to this place. — 
 Wean time, the court shall hear Kellario's letter. 
 
 [Clerk reails.] Yiiur grriec shall understand, that, 
 at the receipt if your letter, I am very sick: hut in 
 the in.'tiint that ynur messenger canie,in laving viii- 
 tuliun iva.i irilli ric a uming ductur af Runie ; his 
 name i-i Btilthnsiir: I aojuainted him with the 
 cause in evnlrinersi/ brla-eni the Jeu- and Antaniu 
 the merchant; ire turned (i'er many Imaks lo!:cther: 
 lie is farni'ih'd ii-ilh my opinion; n-hich. hitler'd 
 with A« oivn learning, (the greatness whereof I 
 cannot enough commend,) comes with him, at my 
 inipnrtunili/, to fill up your gruce^s request in my 
 stead. I beseech yon. let his lade of years be no 
 impediment to let' hint lack a reverend estimation; 
 for I never knetr so young a body with so old a 
 head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, 
 whose trial shall belter publish his commendatiim. 
 Duke. You hear the learn'd iiellario, what he 
 writes: 
 And here 1 take it, is the doctor come.— 
 
 Enter Pcktia, dressed like a Doctor of Tmws. 
 Give me ; our hand : Came you from old Bcllario'! 
 Por. I did, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Vou are welcome : take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the dillcrence 
 That holds this present question in the court I 
 Pnr. I am infirnied throughly of the cause. 
 Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 
 Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
 Par. Is your name Shylock? 
 Shi/. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow; 
 Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
 Cannot impu-^-n ' you, as you do proceed. 
 You stand williin his danger,' do yon not? 
 
 [2\> AxTOSio. 
 Ant. Ay, so he siys. 
 
 Por. Do you confess the bond I 
 
 A7it. \ do. 
 
 Pm: Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shy. On what compulsion must I] tell mo that. 
 Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
 Itdroppeth, as the gentle ram from heaven. 
 Upon the place benraib : it is twice ble.ss'd ; 
 It blesselh him that sives, and him that takes: 
 Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
 • Oppose. 1 Reach or control. 
 
 The throned monarch bcllcr than his crown : 
 His sceptre sliows the force of temporal power. 
 The attribute to awe and majesty. 
 Wherein dolh sit the dread and fear of kings; 
 But mercy is above his sceptred sway. 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 .\nd earthly power doth then show likcst God's 
 When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 Though iustice be thy" plea, consider this,— 
 That, in'the course of justice, none of ns 
 Should see salvation : wc do pray for mercy ; 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy. I have spoke this much, 
 Tn mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
 Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
 Must needs give sentence -gainst the merchant 
 there. 
 
 Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, 
 The penalty and Ibrfeit of my bond. 
 
 Pur. Is he not aMe to discharge the money ? 
 
 Bass. Yes. here I tender it for him in 11. e comt; 
 Yea. twice the sum; if that will not sullice, 
 1 will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
 On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 
 If this will not suflice, it ninst appear 
 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you. 
 Wrest once the law to your authority : 
 To do a great ri^ht, do a little wrong : 
 And ciirh this cruel devil of his will. 
 
 Por, It must not be : there is no power in Venice 
 Can alter a decree establushed : 
 "Twill he recorded for a jirecedent; 
 And many an error, by the same example. 
 Will rush into the slate : it cannot be. 
 
 Sh I/. .\ Daniel come to judgment ! yea a Daniel !— 
 wise young judge, how do I honor thee ! 
 
 Por. 1 pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shi/. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money ofier'd 
 thee. 
 
 Shy. .An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven: 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ! 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 Pi,r. Why, this bond is forfeit- 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of ticsh, to be by him cut olT 
 Nearest the merchant's heart: — Be merciful; 
 Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shu. When it is paid according to the tenor — 
 It doth appear, you are a worthy judge; 
 Vou know the law, your exposition 
 Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law, 
 Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
 Proceed to juditmcnt : hy my soul 1 swear^ 
 There is no' power in the tongue of man 
 •To alter me : 1 stay here ou my hood. 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 To Kivc the judgment. 
 
 Pnr. Why then, thus it is: 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 
 Shy. <) noble iu'(l:;e! O excellent young man! 
 
 Pnr. For the iiilent and purpose of the law 
 Hath full relation to the penalty. 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 
 Shi). 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge! 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks! 
 
 Por. Therefore, lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shy. Ay, his breast: 
 
 So says the bond; — Doth it not noble judge !— 
 Nearest his heart: those are the very words 
 
 Por. It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh 
 The flesh. 
 
 Shi/. I have them ready. 
 
 Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on jour 
 charge. 
 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed tn death. 
 
 Shi/. Is it so nominated in tlie bond ! 
 
 Por. It is not so express'd: But what of that ! 
 'Twere good you do so much for charity. 
 
 SHy. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the hoiid. 
 
 Por. Come, merchant, have you auythingtnsay T 
 
 Ant. But little; Iain arm'd, and well prrjMir'd.— 
 Give me your hand Bassanio; fare you well! 
 (irievc not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
 For herein fortune shows herself more kind 
 Than is her custom: it is still her use. 
 To let the wretched man out-live his wenllh. 
 To view with hollow i<\e, anil wrinkled lirow. 
 An age of poverty ; fro'm which lingering prnance 
 
168 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 (If such a misery doth she cut me off. 
 Comniciul rue to your Imuorable wife: 
 Tell her tiie process of Antonio's end. 
 Say, how I loved you, speak me lair in death ; 
 And when the tale is told, bid her be judge, 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
 Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
 And he reoents not that he pays your debt; 
 For, if the'jew do cut but deep enoush, 
 I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 
 
 Bafs. Antonio, 1 am married to a wile, 
 Wliich is as dear to me as hfe itself; 
 liut life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
 Are not with me esteem'd above thy hfe : 
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 Here to this devil, to deliver you. 
 
 Pur. Your wife would give you little thanks for 
 that. 
 If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 
 
 Grfl. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love ; 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 Kntreat some power to chanL'c this currish Jew. 
 
 Ner. 'Tis well you olTer it behind her back; 
 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
 
 tihy. These be the Christian husbands: 1 have a 
 daughter ; 
 'Would, any of the stock of Barrabas 
 Had been her husband, rather than a Christian ! 
 
 1 Aside 
 We trifle time ; 1 pray theo, pursue sentence. 
 
 Par. A pound of that same merchant's llcsh is 
 thine ; 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 
 Ski/. Most rightful. jud>,'e ! 
 
 Pur. And you must cut this flesh from off his 
 breast ; 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 
 Sill/. Most learned judge!— A sentence; come, 
 prepare. 
 
 For. Tarry a little ; — there is something else, 
 his bond doth give tbee here no jot of blood ; 
 The words expressly are a pound of llesh: 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost .shed 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 Are. by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 Ura. O upright judge!— Mark, Jew;— learned 
 judge ! 
 
 S'l!/. is that the law! 
 
 jiii'r. Thyself shall see the act: 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd. 
 Thou shalt have justice more than thou desir'st. 
 
 Ora. O learned judge!— Mark, Jesv ;— a learned 
 judge ! 
 
 Ski/. 1 take this offer then ;— pay the bond thrice. 
 And jet the Christian go. 
 
 Push. Here is the money. 
 
 Pur. Soft; 
 The Jew shall have all justice ;— soft !— no liaste ;— 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gra. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 
 
 Pnr. Therefore, prepare thee to cut otflhe flesh. 
 Shed thou no b'ood ; nor cut thou less, nor more. 
 But ju.st a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more. 
 Or less, than a just pound, — be it but .so much 
 As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance, 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn 
 But in the estimation of a hair,— 
 Thou diest. and all thy goods are conll^catc. 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel! a Daniel, Jew! 
 Now, infidel. I have thee on the hip. 
 
 For. Why doth the Jew pause! take thy for- 
 feiture. 
 
 S'lij. Give me my principal, and let me go. 
 
 P KS. I have it ready for thee; here it is. 
 
 Pur. He hath refiis'd it in tlie open court; 
 lie shall have merely justice and his bond. 
 
 G a. .\ Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel — 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 
 S'li/. Shall 1 not have barely my principal ! 
 
 Pur. Thou slialt have nothing but the forfeiture. 
 To he so taken at thy peril. Jew. 
 
 Shii. Why .then the devil give him good of it! 
 I'll stay no longer question. 
 
 Par. Tarry, Jew; 
 
 The law hath yet another hold on you. 
 It is enacted in the laws oi' Venice, — 
 If it be prov'd against an alien. 
 
 That by direct, or indirect attempts. 
 
 He seek the life of any citizen, 
 
 The party, 'gainst the whicii he doth contnvo, 
 
 Shall seize one half his goods; the other half 
 
 Comes to the privy co;U-r of the state ; 
 
 And the olfender's lite lies in the mercy 
 
 tif t!ie duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand si : 
 
 For it ajipears by manifest proceeding. 
 
 That indirectly, and directly too. 
 
 Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
 
 f If the defendant: and thou hast incurr'd 
 
 The danger formerly by me rehears'd. 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke. 
 
 Gra. Beg, that thou mayst have leave to hang 
 thyself: 
 And yet, thy wealth being fo'feit to the state 
 TIiou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
 riierefore thou must be hang'd at the slate'.s charge. 
 
 D:tkc. That thou shalt see the dilTercnce of our 
 spirit, 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it: 
 Kor liaifthy wealth, it is Anlonios: 
 The olhcr halfi'. lines to the general state, 
 Which humbleness may drive into a fine. 
 
 Pur. Ay, for the stale; not for Antonio. 
 
 Ski/. ISay, lake my life and all, pardon not that" 
 You lake liiy liouse,"whcn you do take the prop 
 That doth sustain my house : you take my life, 
 When you do take the means whereby I live. 
 
 Pur. "What mercy canyon render him, Antonio 1 
 
 Gra. A halter gratis; nothingelse.forlTod's sake. 
 
 Anf. So please my lord the duke, and all the court. 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods ; 
 I am content, so he will let me have 
 The other half in use. — to render it. 
 Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
 That lately stole his daughter: 
 Two tliiiiL's provided nioie. — That, for this favor. 
 He presently become a Christian ; 
 The other, that he do record a gift. 
 Here in the court, of all he dies po-^ses.s'd, 
 Unio his son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 
 
 Diikr. He shall do this; or else 1 do recant 
 The pardon, that 1 late jironouneed here. 
 
 Pur. Art thou contented, Jew, what dost thou 
 say 1 
 
 S'li/. I am content. 
 
 Par, Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 Ski/. I pray you give me leave to go from hence : 
 I am not well ; send the deed after me, 
 .\nd 1 will sign it. 
 
 Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 
 
 Gra. In christening thou shalt have two god- 
 fathers ; 
 Had I been judge thou shouldst have had ten more, 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not Ihe font. 
 
 [Exit Shti-ock. 
 
 Duke. Sir, 1 entreat you home viith me to dinner. 
 
 Pur. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon; 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 And it is meet, I presently set forth. 
 
 Duke. 1 am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman; 
 For, in my miiid, you are much bound to him. 
 
 f Exeunt. Duke, Magnificoes, and Train. 
 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend, 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof. 
 Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 We freely cope vour courteous pains withal. 
 
 Ant. And staiid indebted, over and above, 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 
 /'(/)•. He is v.ell paid, that is well satisfied; 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
 .\nd therein do account myself well paid: 
 My mind was never yet inure mercenary. 
 I pray you, know me, when we met again; 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
 
 Pass. Dear sir, of ibrce I must attempt you fur- 
 ther; 
 Take some remembrance of us as a tribute. 
 Not as a fee; grant im; two things I pray you. 
 Not to deny nie, and to pardon me. 
 
 Pur. You pres.s me far, and therefore I will yield. 
 Give me your gloves, Vll we;rr them for yoursake; 
 And, for your love, I'll lake this ring from you:— 
 Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more; 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 
 Bass. This ring, good sir,— ala^, it is a trifle; 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MERCHANT OF YENK 
 
 169 
 
 I will not sliiime my^i'Ii to give you this. 
 
 Pur. I will liave notlmu else but only tliis; 
 And now, niethinks, 1 have a minil to it. 
 
 £ass. There's mure depends on this, than on the 
 value. 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give j-ou, 
 And find it out by pruolamation; 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 
 Pur. ] see, sir, you are liberal in oilers ; 
 You tausht me tirst lo be^' ; and now, methinks. 
 You teach me how a be;igar sliould be answerd. 
 
 Bass. Goodsir, this rin;; was given me by my wife: 
 And, when she put it on, she iruide me vow. 
 That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 
 
 Pur. That 'seuse serves many men lo save their 
 gifts; _ 
 An if your wite be not a mad woman. 
 And know how well I have deserved this ring, 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever. 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 
 
 {Exeunt PouTi.i anil Neuissa. 
 
 Ant. My lord liassanio, let him have the ring; 
 Let his descrvings, and my love withal. 
 Be valued 'gainst your Willi's commandment. 
 
 B'lss. Goi Gratiano, run and overtake him. 
 Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst, 
 Unto Antonio's house :— away, make haste. 
 
 [Exit G RATI AX o. 
 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 And in the morning early will we both 
 
 Fly toward iiel.noiit: Come, iVntJiiio. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENK II.— .1 Street. 
 
 E,iter PoitTiA and Nerissa. 
 
 For. Inrjuire the Jew's house out, give him this 
 deed. 
 And let him sign it: we'll away to-night. 
 And be a day before our husbanfis home : 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Eiitcr GitvTiAXo. 
 
 Gra- Fair sir, you are well overtaken : 
 My lord liassanio, upon more advice,* 
 Hath sent you here tliis ring; and doth entreat 
 Your company at dinner. 
 
 Piir. That cannot be : 
 
 This ring I do accept most thankfully. 
 And so, i pray you. tell him: Kurtliermore, 
 I pray you siiow my youth old Shylock's house. 
 
 Gra. That will I do. 
 
 Ner. Sir, I would speak with you : — 
 
 I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, \2*o Puutia. 
 Which 1 did make liim swear to licep for ever. 
 
 Pur. Thou may'st, I warrant: We shall have old 
 swearing, 
 That they did give the rings away to men ; 
 But we'll outfice them, and outswear tiiem too. 
 Away, make haste • thou know 'st where 1 will tarry. 
 
 Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this 
 liouse ? {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House. 
 Enter LonEszooHrf Jessica. 
 
 Lor. The moon shines bright:— In such a night 
 as this. 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 And lliey did make no noise; in such a night, 
 Troilus/inrthiiiks. mounted the Trojan walls. 
 And siglid his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
 Where Cressid lay that night. 
 
 Jes. In such a night, 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew; 
 And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 V)r. In such a night, 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
 Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 ics. In such a night, 
 
 Medea gathered the en -hanted herbs 
 That did renew old .Tison. 
 
 Lor. In such a night, 
 
 Did Jesiiica steal from the wealthy Jew ; 
 And with an unthrift love did run from Venice, 
 As far as Belmont. 
 
 Jrs. And in such a niglit. 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he iov'd her well; 
 btrf-aling her soul with many vows of faith, 
 And no er a true one. 
 
 Lor. And in such a night. 
 
 Did prelty Jessica, like a little shrew. 
 Slander her lnvc, and he forgive it her. 
 
 Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come: 
 But, hark, I hear the fooling of a man. 
 
 Enter STEpnAxo. 
 
 Lor. WIio comes so fast in silence of the night? 
 
 Siepli. A friend. 
 
 Lor. A friend 1 what friend 1 your name, I pray 
 you, friend'! 
 
 Stepli. Stcphano is my name; and I bring word. 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lor. Who comes with her 1 
 
 Stepli. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'd ] 
 
 Lor. lie is not, nor we have not heard from him — ■ 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
 
 Enter Lavxcelot 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola, wo, ha, ho, sola, sola ! 
 
 Lnr. Who calls ! 
 
 Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and 
 mistress Lorenzo ! sola, sola ! 
 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here. 
 
 Liiun. Sola! where! where! 
 
 Lor. Here. 
 
 Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my 
 master with his horn full of good news; my master 
 will be here ere morning. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their 
 coming 
 And yet no matter ; — \Vhy should we go in ' 
 My friend Stephilao, signify, I pray you. 
 Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
 .\nd bring your music forth into the air. — 
 [Exit Stephaxo. 
 
 How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank? 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears; so.''t stillness, and the night. 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica: Look, how llie tloor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of briglit gold; 
 There's not the smjiJcst orb, which thou behold'st, 
 But in his motion like an angel sings. 
 Still quiring to the young-ey'd eherubiras: 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
 But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Dotii grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. — 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; 
 With sweetest touches jiierce your mistress' ear, 
 And draw her home with music. 
 
 Jes. I am never merry w!ieii I hear sweet music. 
 
 [yfusic. 
 
 Lor, The reason is, your spirits ase attentive: 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud. 
 Which is the hot condition of liieir blood; 
 If tliey but hoar purchance a trumpet sound. 
 Or any air of music toucli their ears. 
 You shall perceive them make a n:iutual stand, 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze. 
 By the sweet power of music : Therefore, the poet 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and Iloods; 
 Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 The man that hath no music in himself, 
 !" Reflcfticn. 
 
170 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Nor is not mov'd willi concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratasems, and spoils : 
 The motions of hi.s spirit are dull as night, 
 And his affections darli as Erebus: 
 Let no sueli man be trusted. — Mark tlie music. 
 Enter PoiiTiA and Nkuissa, at adintance. 
 
 For. That lijiht we see is burning in my liall. 
 How fair that little candle tlirows bis beams ! 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the 
 candle. 
 
 Par. So doth the greater glory dim the less: 
 A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
 Until a king be by ; and then bis state 
 Kmpties itself, as doth an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters. Music! hark! 
 
 Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
 
 For. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; 
 Metbinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. 
 
 Ncr. Silence bestows tiiat virtue on it, madam. 
 
 For. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark. 
 When neither is attended; and, I think. 
 The uigiitingale, if she should sing by day. 
 When 'every goose is cackling, would be thought 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 How many things by season seasoned are 
 To their riglit praise and true perfection ! — 
 Peace, hoa ! the nioon sleeps with Endymion, 
 And would not be awak'd ! {Music ceases. 
 
 Iy>r. That is the voice. 
 
 Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 
 
 For. He k^^ows me as the blind man knows the 
 cuckoo. 
 By the bad voice. 
 
 Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 For. We have been praying for our husbands' 
 welfare, 
 Which speed we hope, the better for our words : 
 Are tliey return'd ^ 
 
 Lor. Madam they are not yet; 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 ■To signify tlieir coming. 
 
 For. Go in, Nerissa, 
 
 Give order to my servants that they take 
 No note at all of our being absent hence; 
 Nor you Lorenzo ;— Jessica nor you. 
 
 [a tucket' sounds. 
 
 Lor. Your husband is at hand, 1 hear his trumpet: 
 We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not. 
 
 Poc. This night, metbinks, is but the day-light sick. 
 It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day. 
 Such as the day is when tlie sun is hid. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gbatiano, and their 
 Followers. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 If you would wallt in absence of the sun. 
 
 For. Let me give light, but let me not be hght ; 
 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 
 And never be liassanio so for me; 
 But God sort all!— You are welcome home, my 
 lord. 
 
 Bass. 1 thank you, madam ; give welcome to my 
 
 friend. 
 
 This is the man, this is Antonio. 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 
 For. You should in all sense be much bound to 
 him. 
 For, as I hear he was much bound for you. 
 
 Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 
 
 For. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
 It must appear in other ways than words. 
 Therefore, 1 scant this breathing courtesy. > 
 
 [GiiATiANo and Nktiissa seen to tatti apart. 
 
 Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong: 
 In tilth, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 
 WtHild he wear gilt that had it. for my part, 
 Sinci' you do take it, love, so much at heart. 
 
 For. A quarrel, ho, already ? what's the matterl 
 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a piltry ring 
 Tiiat she did give me ; whose posy was 
 For all the world, like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, Love me^ and ieave me not. 
 
 Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? 
 You swore to me, wdien I did give It you. 
 That you would wear it til! your hour of death ; 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave: 
 Tliougli not I'or me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
 
 • A flourish on atrunipot. * Vt-xbal, comiilimontary form. 
 
 You should have been respective,^ and have keptit. 
 
 Give it a judge's clerk ' — but well 1 know. 
 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his lace, that had it. 
 
 Gra. He will, and if he live to be a man. 
 
 N'T. Ay, if a woman live to be a m:ui. 
 
 Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,— 
 A kind of boy ; a little scrubbed bo)', 
 No higher than myself, llie judge's clerk ; 
 A prating boy, tliat begg'd it as a fee ; 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 For. You were to blame, 1 must be plain with you, 
 To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
 A thing stuck on with oaths upon your hnger. 
 And riveted so with faith upon your llesh. 
 I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
 I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it. 
 Nor pluck it from Ids finger, for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; 
 And 'twere to me, I should bemad at it. 
 
 Bass. Why, 1 were best to cut my left hand off. 
 And swear I lost the ring defeniling it. {Aside^ 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, 
 Descrv'd it too ; and then the boy his clerk. 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine: 
 And neither man, nor master, would take aught 
 Hut the two rings. 
 
 Fur. What ring gave you, my lord 1 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 
 
 Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 I would deny it; but you see my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 
 
 For. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
 Until I see the ring. 
 
 Ner. Nor I in yours. 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 
 Boss. Sweet Portia, 
 
 If you did know to whom I gave the ring. 
 If you did know for wliom I gave the ring. 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring. 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring. 
 When nought would be accented but t!te ring, 
 You would" abate the strength of your displeasure. 
 
 For. If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
 Or half Iter worthiness that gave the ring. 
 Or your own honor to contain the ring. 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 
 What man is there so nmch unreasonable. 
 If you had pleas'd, to have defended it 
 With any terms of zeal wanted the modesty 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony 1 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; 
 I'll die fur t, but some woman had the ring. 
 
 Buss. No, by mine honor, madam, by my soul, 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
 Which did refuse three. thousand ducats of me. 
 And beig'd the ring : the which I did deny him, 
 And suller'd him to go displeas'd away: 
 Even he that had held up the very life 
 Of iny dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? 
 1 wasenforced to send it after him ; 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
 My honor would not let ingratitude 
 So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady ; 
 For, by these blessed candles of the night. 
 Had you been there, I tliink, you would liave begg"d 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
 
 For. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: 
 Since he hath got tlie jewel that I lov'd. 
 And that which you did swear to keep. for me, 
 I will become as liberal as you : 
 I'll not deny him any thing 1 have. 
 No, not my body, nor my husband's bed : 
 Know him 1 shall, 1 am well sure of it : 
 Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus. 
 If you do not, if 1 be left alone. 
 Now, by mine honor, which is yet my own, 
 I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. 
 
 Ner. And I his cli^rk ; therefore be well advis'd. 
 How you do leave me to mine own protection. 
 
 Gra. Well, drt you so : let not me take him then ; 
 For, if I do, 1*11 mar the young clerk's pen. 
 
 Aot. 1 am the unhappy subjeetof those quarrels. 
 
 Fur. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome not- 
 withslanding. 
 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; 
 » Keganlful. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 171 
 
 And in the hearing of these many friends, 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fan' eyes, 
 Wliereiii I see myself, 
 
 Par. Mark you but that ! 
 
 In both mine eyes he doubly sees Ijiniself : 
 In each 636 one : — swear by your double self, 
 Anrt there's an oath of credit. 
 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, 
 I never more will break an oath with tliee. 
 
 Ant. 1 once did lend my body for his wealth :s 
 Which, but for him that iiad your husbandsjing. 
 
 To POBTIA. 
 
 Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
 I\Iy soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
 Will never more break faith advisedly. 
 
 Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give him this ; 
 And bid him keep it better than the other. 
 
 Afii. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. 
 
 Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 
 
 For. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassauio; 
 For by this ring the doctor lay with me. 
 
 Ncr. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; 
 For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
 In lieu of this, last night did lie with mc. 
 
 Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
 In summer, where the ways are fair enough : 
 What ! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserved it 1 
 
 Por. Speak not so grossly. — Vou are all amaz'd : 
 Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; 
 It comes from Padua, from liellario : 
 There you shall find that Portia was the doctor ; 
 Nerissa there, lier clerk : Lorenzo here 
 Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you. 
 Ami but even now rcturn'd ; I have not yet 
 Knter'd my house. — Antonio, you are welcome; 
 And I have better news in store for you, 
 • Advantage. 
 
 Than you expect : unseal this letter soon : 
 'I'here you shall find, three of your argosies 
 .\re richly eoineto harbor suddenly : 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 
 AnI. I am dumb. 
 
 Bass. Were you the doctor, and 1 knew you not? 
 
 Gra. Were ) ou the clerk, that is to make me 
 cuckold ? 
 
 Ner. Ay ; but the clerk that never means to do it, 
 Unless he live until he be a man. 
 
 Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow ; 
 When I am absent, then lie with my wife. 
 
 Anl. Sweet lady, you have given nie life, and 
 living; 
 For hear I read for certain that my ships 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Por. How now, Lorenzol 
 
 JMv clerk hath some good cr»mforts too for you. 
 
 iVtr. Ay and TU give them him without a fee. — 
 There do I give to you and Jessica, 
 From the rich Jew a special deed of gift. 
 After his death, of all he dies possess d of. 
 
 Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Por. It is almost morning. 
 
 And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at full: Let us go in; 
 And charge us there upon inter'gatories, 
 And we will answer all things faithfully. 
 
 Gra. Let it be so: The first inter'gatory, 
 That my Nerissa shall be sw-orn on, is. 
 Whether till the next night she had rather stay ; 
 Or go to bed now, being two hours to-day : 
 Hut were the day come, 1 should wish it dark, 
 Tiiat I were couching with the doctor's clerk, 
 Weil, while I live, I'll fear no other thing 
 So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Duke, living in exue. 
 
 Fkederick, hrotksr to the Duke, and Usurper of 
 
 ti'is diiiiiinunis. 
 Amiens, ^ Lnrds attending upon ttie Duke in his 
 
 Jaiue 
 
 ^r 
 
 batiUkiaeat. 
 
 Le Beau, a Conrtler, uitendin, 
 CiiAHLEs, kis Wrtatier. 
 
 upon Frederick. 
 
 Sons of Sir Rowland de Bois, 
 
 Servants to Oliver. 
 
 ToDciisToxE, a Clown. 
 
 Sir Oliveh M.vu-text, a Vkar, 
 
 s"ElMcs,}s^^Me, 
 
 ■/•(Is 
 
 William, a country fellow in love with Audrey 
 A ptrson representing H>nicn. 
 UnsALi-vn, Daughter to tkt banishtd Duke, 
 Cflia, Duuj^hter to Frederick. 
 PiiKUK, a Skejierdess. 
 AunuEY, a cuuntrij girl. 
 
 Lurcls belonging to tlu two Dukes ; Pages, Forest- 
 ers, and other Attendants. 
 
 The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House,- aperwards, partly in the Vsurper's Court, and 2x:rtly 
 
 in the Forest of Arden. 
 
 ACT I, 
 
 SCENE l.~An Orchard, near Oliver's House. 
 
 Enter Ohlasdo and Adam. 
 
 Orl. As Ircmember, Adam, it was upon this fash- 
 ion bequeatird nie: liy will, but a poor thousand 
 crowns; and, as thou sayst, charf^ed my brother, 
 on his blessing, to breed n\e well ; and there bej^ins 
 my sadness." My brother Jaques he keeps at 
 sciioo!, and report speaks t;oldcnly of his profit: 
 for my part, ha kcep:s me rustieaily at home, or, to 
 speak more properly, stays me here at home un- 
 kept: For call you thai keeping for a gentleman of 
 my birth, that dillerd not from t1ie stalling of an ox? 
 His hor^^es are bred better; for, besides that Ibey 
 are iiiir wiili their teediuir. they are tauglit their 
 mana:;c, and to titat end riders dearly hired: but 
 I, his brother, iiain notiiing under him but eirowtb ; 
 for the which bis animals on his dunghills are as 
 much bound to him as I. Besides this nolhin^ tliat 
 he so plentifully gives me, the somethinji; that I 
 nature gave me. his rountenanee seems to take ) 
 from me: lie lets me ked with his hinds, bars me '. 
 the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies I 
 mines my ^entiJlty wiUi my ed.ucation. This is it 
 Adam, th;:t grieves me; and tlie spirit of my father , 
 which I think is wiihin me, begins to mutiny ' 
 against this servitude: I will no longer endurt* it, 
 though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 
 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. 
 
 Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shall liear how 
 he will shake me up. 
 
 Oli. Now, sir, what make you here ?i 
 
 Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any thing. 
 
 OU. What mar you then, sir ? 
 
 Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
 which God niade,a poorunworthy brother of yours, 
 with idleness. 
 
 Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ 'd, and be naught 
 awhile. 
 
 0/7. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with 
 them! \\'hat prodigal portion have 1 spent,. that 
 I should com;- to such penury ! 
 
 Oli. Know you where you arc sirl 
 
 Orl. (>. so very well: here in your orchard. 
 
 Oli. Know you before whom, sir ! 
 
 Orl. Ay, better tiian he I am before knows me. 
 I know you are my eldest brollicr; and. in the 
 gentle condition of blood, you should so know me: 
 
 172 
 
 1 What do you here ? 
 
 ] The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in 
 that you arc the first-born; but the same tradition 
 takes not away my blood, were there twenty 
 brothers betwixt us; I have as much of my father 
 in me, as you ; albeit, I confess, your coining before 
 me is nearer to his reverence. 
 OIL What, boy! 
 
 Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too 
 young in this. 
 
 on, Wdt thou lay hands on me, villain ] 
 0/7. I ana no villain :■» 1 am the youngest son 
 of Sir Rowland de Kois; he was my father, and he 
 is thrice a villain, that says such a lather begot 
 villtins: Wert Ihou not my brother. I would not 
 take this hand from thy throat, Idl tiiis other hand 
 ])uned out tliy tongue for saying so; thou hast 
 raited on thyself. 
 
 Adem. Sweet masters, be patient; for your fa- 
 ther's remembrance, be at accord. 
 Oli. Let me go, I say. 
 
 Orl. I will not, till I please : yr-u shall hear me. 
 My ftdher charged you in his will to give me good 
 etiacation: you have trained me hke a peasant, 
 tyb«e.uriiig and hiding from me ;ill gentleman-like 
 quaitties : the spirit of my father grows strong in 
 me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore 
 allow me such exercises as may become a t:entle- 
 raau. or give me the poor allottery my father JelT; 
 kn« by testament; witn that I will go buy my for- 
 tune*. 
 
 OH. And what wilt thou do] beg, when that is 
 sptnt "! Weil, sir, get you in: I will not long be 
 Lroulelrtd witli you : you shall have some part, of 
 yoar wdj; 1 pray you, leave me. 
 
 Of/. 1 v/iU no further olTcnd you than becomes 
 me fur my good. 
 
 0-(. Get you wilh him, you old dog 
 Ai4am. Is old iUij: my reward ] most true, I have 
 lost my teeth in your service. — God be wiiii my 
 old master! he would not Itave spoke such a word. 
 [Excuttt (JnLANOo and Aiiaat. 
 OH. Is it even so] begin you to grow upon mel 
 I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou- 
 sand crowns neither. Ilola, liennis! 
 Enter Di;xxis. 
 Den. Calls your worship? 
 
 OU. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here, 
 to siiea,k with me T 
 
 ^ ^'i!!.1in is usint in a double fpnse; by Oliver, f^r a 
 wortlili'ss ffUow, aud by Orlando^ for a man of base 
 fstrtietiun. 
 
SCE>"E II. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 173 
 
 Den. So please you, he is Jicre at the door, and 
 mipoitunes access to you. 
 
 Oil. Call him in. \EjcU Dexxis.] — 'Twill be a 
 good way ; and to-aiorrow tlie wrestling is. 
 
 Enter CiiAHLES. 
 
 Cha. nood morrow to your worship. 
 
 OIL (loud monsieur Charles! — wliat'.s the new 
 news at tlic new court 1 
 
 Cha. Tiiere's no news at the court, sir, but the 
 old news: that is, llio old duke is bmislied by his 
 younger brother the new duke; and three or lour 
 iovinj5 lords have put themselves into voluntary 
 exile with him, who-.e lands and revenues enncii 
 liie new duke ; therelore he gives them good leave 
 to wander. 
 
 Oil. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh- 
 ter, be banished with her lather? 
 
 Cha. 0, no; for tlic dukes daughter, her cousin, 
 so loves her, — being ever from their cradles bred 
 together, — that she would have followed her exile, 
 or have died to stay behind her. She is at the 
 court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his 
 own daughter ; and never two ladies loved as they do. 
 
 Oii. VVhcre will tlie old duke live? 
 
 Chru They say he is already in the forest of 
 Arden, and a many merry men with him; and 
 there they live lii^e the old llobin Hiiod of Knii- 
 land: tliey say, many young gentlemen tlock to 
 him every day ; and lleol the time carelessly, as they 
 did in the L^ulden world. 
 
 OIL What, you wrestle to-morrow b^-fore the 
 new duke \ 
 
 Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint 
 you With a mutter. I am given, sir, secretly to un- 
 derstand, tliat your younger brother, Orlando, hath 
 a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try 
 a fall; To-mornnv, sir, I wrestle for my credit; 
 and he that escapes me without some hrokeji liinb. 
 shall acquit him well. Your brother is but youiig. 
 and tender; and, for your love, \ would be loath to 
 foil him, as I must, lor my own honor, if he come 
 in: therefore, out of my love to vou, I came hither 
 to acquaint you witlial ; that either you might stay 
 him trom his intendment, or brook such disgrace 
 well as he shall run mto, in that it is a ihiiig ot 
 his own search, and altogether against my will. 
 
 Oli. Charles, 1 th.uik Ihee for thy love to me, 
 which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. 1 
 had myself notice of my broliicr's purpose herein, 
 and have by underhand means labored to dissuade 
 him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee. 
 Cliarles, — he is the stubbornest young fellow of 
 France ; full of ambition, an envious emulator of 
 every mans good parts, a secret and villanous 
 contriver against me his natural brother; therefore 
 use thy discretion; I had as lief tiiou didst break 
 his neck as his linger. And thou wert best look 
 to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if 
 he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will 
 practiseaj,ain'^t thee by poison, entrap thee by some 
 treacherniis device, and never leave thee till he hath 
 ta'en thy life by some indirect means or otiier; for, 
 1 assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it. there 
 is not one so young ana so villanous tins day iiving. 
 I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anato- 
 mize him to thee as he is, 1 must blusli and weep, 
 and thou must look pale and wonder. 
 
 CAa. I am heartily glad, I came hither to you; 
 If he come to-morrow. Ill give him his payment; 
 If ever he go alone again, I'll never wre.stie for 
 prize more: And so, God keep your worship ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Oii. Farewell, good Charles.— Now will I stir 
 this gamester :3 1 htipe I sha'I see an end of him: 
 for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothiuL^ 
 more than he. Yet he's gentle; never schoord. 
 and yet learned; full of noble device: of all sorts* 
 enchantin;ily beloved; and, indt'cd, so much in the 
 heart ot" tiie world, and esnecially of my own peo- 
 ple, who best know him. that 1 am altogether mis- 
 prised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler 
 ehall clear all : nothing remains, but that 1 kindle 
 the boy thither, which now 1*11 go about. [Exit. 
 SCENbl II.— -1 Lawn before t tie Dukt^s Palace,' 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Cel. T pray thee. Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. 
 
 Ros. Dear Celia, I siiow more mirth than I uin 
 s FroUrk^ome fellow. * Of all ninks. 
 
 mistress of: and would you yet I were merrier 1 
 Unle.-is you would teach me to forget a banished 
 father, you must not learn me how to remember 
 any extranrdinary pleasure. 
 
 Ce.'. Herein. I see, thou lovcst me not with the 
 full weight that I love tlice: if my uncle, thy ban- 
 ished father, had banished thy uncle, ll;e duke my 
 lather, .so thou liadst been still with me. I could 
 have tan-ht my In\e to take thy talher for mine; 
 so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were 
 so righteously teiiipcr'd as mine is to thee. 
 
 Riis. Well," I will forf-'it the condition of my 
 estate, to rejoice in yours. 
 
 Cel. You know my fithc" hath no child but I 
 nor none is like to have; and. truly, when he dies, 
 thou sh;dt be his heir; for whut he hath taken away 
 from thy fither perforce, I will render thee again 
 m arteetion ; by mnie honor, I will; and wlien I 
 break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my 
 sweet Rose, my d'^ar Hose, he merry. 
 
 Ros, From henceforth I will, coz, and devise 
 sports; let me see; What think you of laihng in love? 
 
 Cel. Marry, 1 pr'ythee. do. to make sport withal : 
 but love no mm m gond earnest; nur no further in 
 sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou 
 niayst in honor come olTai^ain. 
 
 Ros. What shall be our sjiorl then 1 
 
 Ctl. Let us sit and mock the good housewife. 
 Fortune, from her wheel, tliat her gifts may hence- 
 forth be bestowed equally. 
 
 Ru-s. I would, we could do so; for her benefits 
 are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind 
 woman dolh nmst mistake in her gifts to women. 
 
 Cel. 'Tis true: for those, thgit she makes fair. she 
 scarce makes honest; and those, ^that she makes 
 lionest, she makes very ill-fivor dly. 
 
 Ro.'<. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office 
 to nature's: f)rtuue reigns in gifts of the world, not 
 in the hneamcnts of nature. 
 
 Enter Tchchstoxe. 
 
 Cel. Xo! When nature hath made a fair creature, 
 may she not by fortune fall into the fire ? — Tliough 
 nature hath given us wit to Iloutat fortune, hathnot 
 fortune sent in Ibis fool to cut oil the argument ? 
 
 R'>,\. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; 
 when f )rlune makes nature s natural the cutter oli' 
 of nature s wit. 
 
 Cel. PeradvenUire, this is not fortune's work 
 neither, but nature s: who perceiving our natural 
 wits too dull to reason uf sucb goddcs^si's. hath sent 
 this natural for our wlu-lstone : for alwuv s the dul- 
 nessof the fool is the whetstnne of his wits. — How 
 now, wit ] whither wander you ? 
 
 Toucli. Mistress, you must come away to your 
 father. 
 
 Cel. Where you made the messenger? 
 
 Toncfi. No, by mine lionor; but 1 was bid to 
 come for you. 
 
 Ros. W'here learned you that oath, fool? 
 
 Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his 
 honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his 
 honor the mustard was naught: now. Ml stand to 
 it. the ])aiicakes were nau-lil, and the mustaid was 
 good ; and yet was not the knight forsworn. 
 
 Cel. How prove you that, in the great lieap of 
 your knowledge ! 
 
 Ros. Ay, marry; now unmn-zle your wisdom. 
 
 Toucli. Stand you both t'nrlh now: stroke your 
 dims, an I swear "by your beards that I am a knave. 
 
 Cel. Ry our beards, il' we had them, thou art. 
 
 Touch. Ry my knavery, if I had it. then I were: 
 but if you swear by that that is not, you are not 
 for-sworn : nomo e wasthis knight.swearingby his 
 honor, for he never had any; or if lie had, he liad 
 sworn it away, before ever Jie saw those pancakes 
 or that nnistard. 
 
 Cel. I'r > thee, wlio is't that thou mean's! ? 
 
 Touch. One that old Frederick. your fitlier. loves. 
 
 Cel. My father's love is enough to Iionor him. 
 F.nough !" speak no more of him ; you'll be whipp"d 
 for taxation.* one of these diys. 
 
 Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak 
 wisely, what wise men do foolishly. 
 
 Cel. Ry my troth, thou say'st true : for since ihe 
 little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little 
 foolery, tliat wise men have, makes a great show. 
 Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 
 
 * Satire. 
 
17i 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 £nfer Le Beau. 
 
 Ros. With his mjuth full of news. 
 
 Cel. Winch he wiU pul on us, as pigeons feed 
 their j'ouug. 
 
 Has. Tlien shall we benews-cramm'd. 
 
 Cel- All tile better; we shall be tlie more mar- 
 ketable, io/iyo:;)-, Monsieur Le Beau; What's the 
 news ! 
 
 Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good 
 sport. 
 
 Cei. Sport? Of what color? 
 
 Le Beau. What color, madam ? How shall I 
 answer you ? 
 
 Rns. As wit and fortune will. 
 
 Ti/ucli. dr as the destinies decree. 
 
 Cel. Well said; that was laid on WMth a trowel. 
 
 Touch. Nay. if I keep not my rank, 
 
 Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. 
 
 Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies; I would have 
 told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the 
 sight of. 
 
 Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 
 
 Le Bduu. I will tell you the beginning, and if it 
 please your ladyships, you may see the end; lor 
 the best is yet to do ; and here, wdiere you are, 
 they are coming to perform it. 
 
 Cel. Well,— the beginning, that is dead and 
 buried. 
 
 Le B-'au. There comes an old man, and his three 
 sons. 
 
 Cel. 1 could match this heiinning with an old tale. 
 
 Le Beau. Three properyoung men, of excellent 
 growth and presence; 
 
 Ros. With bills on their necks,— J5e it known 
 unto all men hi/ these presents, 
 
 Le Beau. Tlie eldest of the three wrestled with 
 Charles, the duke's wrestler ; which Charles in a 
 moment tlirew liiin, and broke three of his ribs, 
 that there is little hope of life in him : so he served 
 the second, and so the third : Yonder they lie ; the 
 poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole 
 over them, that all the beholders take his part with 
 weeping. 
 
 Ros. Alas! 
 
 Touch But what is the sport, monsieur, that the 
 ladies have lost ! 
 
 Z,? Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 
 
 Touch. Thus inen may grow wiser everyday ! it 
 is the first time that I ever heard, breaking of ribs 
 was sport for ladies. 
 
 Cel. Hr I, 1 promise thee. 
 
 Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken 
 music in his sides ! is there yet another dotes upon 
 rib-hreaking ?— Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ? 
 
 i? Beau. You ntust. if vou stay here : tor here is 
 the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are 
 ready to perforin it. 
 
 Ce'. bonder, sure, they are coming: Let us 
 now stay and see It. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Duke FnEnEnicK, Lords, Or- 
 LAXDo, Chaules, and .attendants. 
 
 Duke F. Come on ; since the youth will not be 
 entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 
 
 Ros. Is yonder the man '.' 
 
 Le Beau. Kven he, madam. 
 
 Cel. Alas, he is too young : yet he looks suc- 
 cessfully. 
 
 Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? are 
 you crept hither to see the wrestling '. 
 
 Ron. Ay, my liege ! so please you give us leave. 
 
 Diike F. You will take little delight in it, I can 
 tell you, there is such odds in the men : In pity of 
 the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, 
 but he willnot be entreated : Speak to him, ladies, 
 see if y":u can move him. 
 
 Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Lc Beau. 
 
 DikcF. Do so: \ II notbeby.\0\:KK goes apart. 
 
 Lc Beau. Monsieur the challenger,the princesses 
 call for you. 
 
 O.i. I attend them, with all respect and duty. 
 
 /ii's. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
 tlie wrestler ! 
 
 Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal- 
 lenger: I come hut in, as others do, to try with him. 
 the" strength of my youth. 
 
 Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold 
 for your years; Vou have seen cruel pro if of this 
 man's strength ; if you saw yourself wjili your eyes 
 
 or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of 
 your adventure would counsel you to a more equal 
 eiittrprise. We pray you. tor your own sake, to 
 embrace your own s.i fety, and give over this atiempt. 
 
 Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not 
 therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to 
 the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. 
 
 Orl. 1 beseech you, ]iunisli me not with your 
 hard thoughts; wherein I conlcss me much guilty, 
 to deny .so fair and e.Ncellent ladies any thing. But 
 let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to 
 my trial : wherein if 1 be foiled, there is hut one 
 shamed that was never gracious: if killed, but one 
 dead that is willing to be so; I shall do my friends 
 no vvrong, for I have none to lament n;e ; the world 
 no injury, for in it I have nothing ; only in the 
 world! Hll up a place which may be better sup- 
 plied when 1 have made it empty. 
 
 Ros. The little strength that I have, I -would it 
 were with you. 
 
 Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. 
 
 i?'w. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived 
 in you ! 
 
 Cel. Your heart's desires be with you. 
 
 Cha. Come where is this young gallant, that is 
 so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? 
 
 Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hatn in it a m xe 
 modest working. 
 
 Duke F. You shall try but one fall. 
 
 Cha. No, 1 warrant your grace; you shall not 
 entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- 
 suaded him from a lirst. 
 
 Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should 
 not have mocked me helore : but come your ways. 
 
 Ro.s. Now, Hercules be thy sjieed. young man ! 
 
 Cel. 1 would I were invisible, to catch the strong 
 fellow by the leg. [CHAnLES and Oulaxdo wrestle. 
 
 Ros. II excellent young man ! 
 
 Cel. If I had a tliunderbolt in mine eye, I can 
 tel: who should down. ICharies istlirown. Shout. 
 
 Duke F. No more, no more. 
 
 Orl. Yes, 1 beseech your grace; I am not yet 
 well breathed. 
 
 Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? 
 
 Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
 
 Dike F. Bear liim away. ICuakles is borne out. 
 What is thy name, young man? 
 
 Orl. (Irlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir 
 Rowland dc Hois. 
 
 Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some 
 man else. 
 The world esteem'd thy father honorable. 
 Hut 1 did liiid him still mine enemy : 
 I'hou should.st have better pleas'd me with this 
 
 deed. 
 Hadst thou descended from another house. 
 But lure thee well ; thou art a gallant youth ; 
 1 would thou hadst told me of another father. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke KuEn., rrain, «;(f/ Lk Beau. 
 
 Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? 
 
 Orl. I am more jiroud to be Sir ivowlands son, 
 His youngest son; — and would not change that 
 
 calling. 
 To be adopted heir to Frederick. 
 
 Ros. My father lov'd Sir Howlami as his soul, 
 A nd all the world was of iny father s mind : 
 Had 1 before known this j oung man his son, 
 I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 
 lire he should thus have ventur'd. 
 
 Cel. Gentle cousin, 
 
 Let us go thank him, and encourage liini; 
 .My father's rou-.;h and envious disposition 
 Sticks me at heart. — Sir, you have well deserv'd: 
 If you do keep your promises in love. 
 But justly, as you have exceeded promise, 
 Your mistress shall be happy. 
 
 Ros. Gentleman, 
 
 [Giving him a chain from her neck. 
 Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune; 
 'i'liat could give more, but that her baud lacks 
 
 means. — 
 Shall we go, coz? 
 
 Cel. Ay : — Fare you well fair gentleman. 
 
 Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts 
 .\re all thrown down ; and that which here stands up, 
 Is but a quintair,' a mere lifeless lilock. 
 
 Ros. He calls us back: My pride loll with my 
 fortunes: 
 
 e Tho object to dart at iu martial exorcrstis. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 175 
 
 1 II nsk liini what lie would :— Did jim call, sir ?-.- 
 Sir,.you have wrestled well, and overthrown 
 Jlorc than your enemies. 
 
 Cel. Wlllyouso, cozl 
 
 Rus. Have with yon :— Fare you well. 
 
 [Exeniit Ro'sALixi) and Celia. 
 Orl. \\ hat passion lianjs these weights upon 
 my tongue ? 
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 
 
 Re-enter Le Beau. 
 O poor Orlando ! thou art overthrown : 
 Oi Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. 
 
 LeBfaii. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you. 
 To leave this place: Alheit you have (leserv'd 
 High commendation, true applause and love ; 
 Yet sucli is now the du^ie's condition,'' 
 That he rnisconstrues all that you have done. 
 The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed. 
 More suits yon to conceive, than me to speak of. 
 
 0/7. 1 tii.ank-you, sir: and pray you, tell niclliis; 
 Which of the two was daughter of llio duke, 
 That here was at the wrestling 1 
 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 
 manners; 
 But yet indeed, the shorter is his daughter : 
 The other is daughter to the banishd duke, 
 And here dctain'd by her usurping uncle. 
 To keep his daughter company ; whose loves 
 Are dearer than the natural bond of sislets: 
 But I can lell you, that of late this duke 
 Hath taen displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; 
 Grounded upon no other argument, 
 But that thepeople praise her for her virtues, 
 And pity her for her good father's sake: 
 And, on my life, his malice 'g^iinst the lady 
 Will suddenly break forth. — Sir, fare you well; 
 Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
 I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
 
 Oil. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well ! 
 „, \Exi/ Lk Bs;au. 
 
 Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; 
 From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother: — 
 But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit. 
 
 SCKNE III.— .4 Room in the Palace. 
 Enter CT.i.i.i and Rosalind. 
 Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;— Cupid h ivp 
 mercy !— Not a word ? 
 /;•).«. Not one to throw at a dog. 
 Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be c:\st 
 away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, 
 lame me with reasons. 
 
 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; when 
 the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other 
 mad Without any. 
 Cel. But is all this for your father ! 
 Ro.^. No, some of it for my father's child : 0. 
 how full of briars is this working-d.iy world ! 
 
 Cel. Tliey are hut burs, cousin, thrown upon thee 
 in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden 
 paths, our very pettieoals will catch lliem. 
 
 Rn.s. I could shake them olf my coat ; tlicse burs 
 are in my heart. 
 Cel. Hem them away. 
 Ros. I would try 
 him. 
 
 And get }ou from our court. 
 ?*'«• ' Me, uncle? 
 
 „.^i'-'^^ ^- , You, cousin ; 
 
 \\ ithin these ten days if that thou best ibund 
 So near our public court as twenty miles, 
 Thou diest for it. 
 
 R"^. I do beseech your grace. 
 
 Let me the knowledge of my tault bear with me: 
 If with myself I hold intelligence, 
 <ir have acquaintance with mine own desires; 
 If that I do not dream, or be not frantic, 
 (As I do trust 1 am not.) then, dear uncle. 
 Never, so much as in a thought unborn, 
 Did I ollend your highness. 
 
 L>iil;eF. Thus do all traitors ; 
 
 If their purgation did consist in words. 
 They are as innocent as grace itself; — 
 Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. 
 
 Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: 
 Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 
 Duke F. Thou art tliy fathers daughter, there's 
 
 enoui^h. 
 Ros. So was I, when your highness took his 
 dukedom ; 
 So was I, when your highness banish'd him : 
 Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
 Or. if we derive it from our friends, 
 What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : 
 rhcn, good my liege, mistake ine not so much, 
 To think my poverty is treacherous. 
 Cel. Dear sovereign, bear me speak. 
 Duke F. Ay, Cclia ; we stay d here for your sake, 
 Else had she with her father "ranged along. 
 
 Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, 
 It was your pleasure and your own remoisc:' 
 1 was too young that time to value her. 
 Hut now 1 knovv her: if she be a traitor. 
 Why so am 1 ; we still have slept together. 
 Rose at an instant, learn d, play'd, eat togethei ; 
 And wlieresoe.'r we went, like Juno's swans, 
 Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 
 Duke F. She is too su'utile for thee; and her 
 smoothness. 
 Her very silence, and her patience. 
 Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
 riiou art a fool : she robs thee of tliy name : 
 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more 
 
 virtuous, 
 When she isgone: then open not thy lips; 
 Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
 Which 1 have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. 
 Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my 
 liege ; 
 I cannot live out of lier company. 
 Duke F. You area fool: — You, niece, provide 
 yourself; 
 If you out-stay the time, ujion mine honor 
 And in the greatness of my word, you die. 
 
 {Exeunt Di-KK Fiikhkiiick «)7(M,ords. 
 Cel. 0, my poor Rosalind ! whither will thou go? 
 
 if I could cry hem, and have 
 
 Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy alTections. 
 
 Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler 
 than myself. 
 
 Cel. (), a good wish upon you ! you will try in 
 time. 111 dpspile of a fall.— But, turning these jests 
 out of service, let us talk in good earnest : Is it pos- 
 sible on such a sudden, you should fall into so 
 strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest soiV 
 
 Rns. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly 
 
 Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should lov'e' 
 his son dearly ? Ky this kind of chase, T should hate 
 him, for my father hated his father dearly vet I 
 hale not Orlando. ' j . j ' 
 
 Ros. No; hale him not, for my sake. 
 
 Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve 
 well ? • 
 
 Rns. Let me love him for that; and do you love 
 Dim because I do: — Look, here comes the duke. 
 
 Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 
 
 Enter Dtke FiitnEKicK,!oi/A Lords. 
 
 Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest 
 haste, 
 
 ' Temper, di.'iposition. 
 
 Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. 
 I cliarged thee, be not thou more griev'd than 1 am. 
 
 Ros. I have more cause. 
 
 Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ; 
 
 Pr'jihee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke 
 Hath banish'd me, his daughter? 
 
 Hi'.i. That be halli not. 
 
 Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love 
 Which teachclh thee that tlmu and I a:e one : 
 Shall we bo sunder'd ? shall we part, sweet girl '. 
 No; let my father seek anoiher heir. 
 Therefore devise with me. how we may fly. 
 Whither to go, and what to bear with us: 
 And do not seek to take your change U])on you, 
 To bear your grief yourself, and leave me out; 
 For, by lliis heaven, now at our sorrows pale. 
 Say what thou canst, I'll l'o along with thee. 
 
 kos. Why, whither shall we go ? 
 
 Cel. To seek my uncle. 
 
 Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, 
 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ? 
 Beauly provokctb thieves sooner than gold. 
 
 Cel. rjl put myself in poor and mean attire, 
 And with a kind of umbei' smirch my face; 
 The like do you ; so shall we pass along, 
 And never stir assailants. 
 
 -Ko.s. Were it not better. 
 
 Because that I am more than common tall. 
 That I did suit me all points like a man ; 
 
 8 Compa.ssion. 
 
 s A dusky, yellow colored earth. 
 
176 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 A gallautcurtle-a:<i up in my tiiish, 
 A boar spe.ir in my lund ; aiKl (iii my licsTt, 
 Lie there what hidden woman's fear tliere will) 
 We'll liave a svvasliing" and a martial outside ; 
 As many other mannish cowartls have, 
 That do outface it with their semblances. 
 Cel. What shad I call thee when thou art a man 1 
 Ros. Ill have no wjrse a nane tiian Jove's own 
 paste, 
 And therefore look you call mc, Ganymede. 
 But whit will you be calld ? 
 Ccl. Something that hath a reference to my state ; 
 
 No longer Celia. but Aliens. 
 
 Am. "BuI, cousin, what if we cs^ay'd to steal 
 The clownish fool out of 'your father's court ? 
 Would he not be a comfjr't to our travel 1 
 
 Cei, He'll g:o alontc o er the wide world with me ; 
 Leave me alone to woo him ; Let's away, 
 And set our jewels and our wealth togetliei ; 
 Devise the fittest time, and sal'est way 
 To hide us from pursuit lliat vvill be made 
 After my flight: now t'o w.> in content 
 To Uberly and not to banishment. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II, 
 
 SCENE l— The Forest nf Arden. 
 Enter Duke Senior, Ajiikns, and oilier Lords, In 
 the dress of Foresters. 
 Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, 
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than tiiat of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
 More free from peril than the envious court ; 
 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
 The seasons' difference; as, the icy fanf. 
 And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; 
 Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,— 
 This is no (lattery : these are counsellors 
 That feelrhgly persuade me what I am. 
 Sweet are the uses of adversity ; 
 Which, like the load, ugly and venomous, 
 ■(vears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
 And tins our life, exempt from public haunt. 
 Finds tongucsin trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thmg. 
 
 Ami. I would not change it: Happy isyourgrace. 
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 
 
 Duke S. Curne. shall we go and kill us venison " 
 And yet it irks me, the poor dappkd fools, — 
 Beins native burgers of this desert city,— 
 Should in tiieir own confines, with foiked heads' 
 Have their round haunches gored. 
 
 1 Lfinl. Indeed, my lord. 
 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 Than doih your brother that hath banishd you. 
 To-day. my lord of Amiens, and myself, 
 Did steal behind-him, as he lay along 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: 
 To the which place a poor scquester'd stag, 
 Thai from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 riid come to languish ; and. indeed, my lord. 
 The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans. 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting; and the big round tears 
 Cours d one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool, 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke S. Btit what said Jaques ! 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle? 
 
 1 Lord. (), yes, into a thousand similes. 
 First, for his weeping in the needless stream ; 
 Poor dicr. quolh he, t/uiti iimk'st a testaiutnt 
 As wnrhHing': dn, fairing thii sum i,f more 
 To tlwt whick had too much: Then, being alone, 
 Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 
 'T« riiikt, quoth he; thus misery dath pnrt 
 The flux ufcompomi: Anon, a careless herd, 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by hiin. 
 And never slays to greet him; .■)//, quoth Jaques, 
 Siceepon. i/ou fiit iiwl gmisij citizens; 
 'Tis just ihifiahion: Wh'rrfore dn you Inolt 
 I'uon tliiit poor and broken bankrupt there? 
 Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
 The body of the country, city, court. 
 Yea, and ef this our life: sweariHL;, that wc 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what s worso 
 To fright the animals, and to kill Ihem up. 
 In their assigned and native dwelling-place. 
 ■ Cutlass. « Swnggcring = Bnrhcd arrows. 
 
 Duke S. And did you leave him in this contem- 
 plation ? 
 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
 menting 
 L^pon the sobbing deer. 
 
 Duke S. Show me the place ; 
 
 1 love to cope' him in these sullen tits, 
 For then he's full of matter. 
 2 Lord. I'll bring v ou to him straight. [Exeunt. 
 SCENE II.— yl Room in the Palate. 
 Enter Duke FHEDEnicK, Lords, anfJ Attendants. 
 
 Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them? 
 It cannot be : some villains of my court 
 Are of consent and suiferance in this. 
 
 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. 
 The ladies, her attendants of her chamber. 
 
 Saw her a-bcd; and, in the morning early, 
 
 They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. 
 
 2 Lord. My lord, the royiii^h> clown,at whom so oft 
 Your srace was wont to laush. is also missing. 
 Hesj e'ria, the princess' gentlewoman. 
 Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard 
 
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
 The parts and iiraces nf the wrestler 
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 
 And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
 I'hat youth is surely in their company. 
 Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant 
 hither ; 
 If he be absent, bring his brother to me, 
 I'll nvike him find linn: do this suddenly; 
 And let not search and inquisition quail" 
 To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt. 
 SCENE 111.— Before Oliver's House. 
 Enter Oiiiando and Adam, meeting. 
 
 Orl. Who's there ? 
 
 Adam. What! my young master?— O, my gen- 
 tle master, 
 0, my sweet master. you memory 
 Of old Sir Rowland! why. what make you here ? 
 Why are ynuvirtuous? Why do people loveyou? 
 And v\'herefore are you gentle, .strong, and valiant? 
 Why should you be so biiil' to oveieoiiie 
 The bony prizer of the humorous duke ? 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
 Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
 Their graces serve them but as enemies? 
 No more do youVs; your virtues, gentle master, 
 Are sanctified and holy traitors lo you. 
 O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
 Envenoms liim that bears it ! 
 
 Ort. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 Alam. O unhappy youth. 
 
 Come not within these doors ; within this roof 
 The enemy of all your graces lives: 
 Your brother— (no, no brother; yet the son- 
 Yet not the son ;— I will not call him son— 
 Of him I was about to call his father,)— 
 Halh heard your praises; and this night he means 
 To burn the lodging wdiere you use to lie, 
 And you w itliin it : if he fail of that. 
 He will have other means lo cut you oti: 
 1 overhea'd him, and his practices. 
 This is no pLice, this house is but a butchery ; 
 A bhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 
 
 < Knonuntor. > Scurvt-y. » Sink into ili-jcction. 
 
 1 ML-morial. 
 
 8 Incon.^id'.Tate. 
 
SCE>'E V. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 177 
 
 Orl. Why, whitlier, Adam, wouldst thou have 
 mo go 1 
 
 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 
 
 Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my 
 'food f 
 Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce 
 A thievish livnig on the conmion road ? 
 This I must do, or know not what to do: 
 Yet this I will not do, do how 1 can ; 
 I rather wiU subject me to the malice 
 Ufa diverted blood,^ and bloody brother. 
 
 Adam. Butdonotso:! have hve hundred crowns, 
 The thrifty hire 1 sav'd under your father, 
 Waicli I did store, to be my foster-nurse, 
 When service should in my old limbs he lame, 
 And unrej^arded uf;e m corners thrown : 
 Take that: and He that doth the ravens feed, 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow. 
 Be coinlbrt to my age ! Here Is the gold ; 
 All this 1 give you : Let ine be your servant ; 
 Though I look old, jet 1 am strong and lusty: 
 For in my youili i never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; 
 Nor did not with unh.isbful forehead woo 
 The means of weakness and debility ; 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty, but kmdly: let me go with you; 
 I'll do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Orl. () good old man ; how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique world, 
 ^Vhen service sweat fur duty, not for meed! 
 Thou art not for tlie fashion of these times, 
 W'here none will sweat, but for promotion; 
 And liavinLi that do choke their service up 
 Even with the havmg: it is not so with tiiee. 
 But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, 
 That cannot so much as a blossom yield, 
 In heu of all thy painsand husbandry: 
 But come thy ways, well go along together; 
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
 We'll light upon some settled lowcnntent. 
 
 Adam. Master, go on; and 1 will follow thee, 
 To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.— 
 From seventeen years til! now almost fourscore 
 Here lived I, but now hve here no more. 
 At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; 
 But at fourscore, it is too late a week : 
 Yet ibrtune cannot recompense me better, 
 Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. 
 
 [Exeiinf. 
 SCENE \\.— The Forest of Kxden. 
 Enter RosALixii in Boy's c/WA&v, Celia dressed 
 like a Shtpherdtssy and Toucustoa'e. 
 
 Ros. O Jupiter! how weary arc ray spirits ! 
 
 Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were 
 not weary. 
 
 Ron. I could find in my heart to disgrace my 
 man's apparel, and to cry like a woman : but I must 
 comfort tlie weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought 
 to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, 
 courage, good Allena. 
 
 Cel. Ipray you, bear with me; 1 can go no further. 
 
 Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you 
 than bear you: yet I should bear no cross,i if I did 
 bear you: for, I think, you hate no money in your 
 purse. 
 
 Ros. Weil, this is the forest of Arden. 
 
 Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool 
 I ; when 1 was at home. I was in a better place; 
 but travelers nmst be content. 
 
 Ros. Ay, be sn, good Touchstone: — Look yon, 
 who comes here; a young man and an old, in 
 solemn talk. 
 
 Enter Crniry and SrLvirs. 
 Co?: That is the way to make her scorn you still! 
 Sit. O Covin, that thou knew'st how I do love her. 
 Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. 
 Sil. No, Corui, being old thou canst not guess; 
 Though in thy youth tiion wast as true a lover 
 As ever sigh'd upon a midnight jiiUow: 
 But if thy love were ever like tn mine, 
 (As sure I think did never man love so,) 
 How many actions most- ridiculous 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? 
 Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
 8 Blood turned from its natural course. 
 * A piece of money stamped with a cross. 
 12 
 
 Sil. 0, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: 
 l( thou remember'st not the slif^lilest i'oHy 
 That evfr love did make thee run into, 
 Thou hast not lov'd: 
 Or if thou liast not sat as I do now. 
 Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praiee, 
 Thou liast not lov'd : 
 Or if thou hast not broke from company. 
 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
 Thou hast not lov'd; O Phebe, rhebe. i'hebe! 
 
 [Exit SiLvius, 
 
 Rns. Alas, poorshepherd! searching of thy wounds 
 I have by liard adventure found my^own. 
 
 'Touch. And 1 mine: I remembi-r, when I was 
 in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid 
 hun lake that for coming anight* to Jane Smile: 
 and I remember the kissing of her batlpt,a and the 
 cows dugs th;it her pretty cliopd hands had milk'd: 
 and I remember the wooing of a peaM'od instead 
 of her; from whom I took two cobs, and giving her 
 them again, said with weeping tears, IVcar these 
 for my i^ake. We. tfiat are true lovers, run into 
 strange capers; but as all is mortal m nature, so is 
 all nature m love mortal In folly. 
 
 Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art "ware of, 
 
 'Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be "ware of mine own 
 wit. till I break my shins against it. 
 
 Ros. Jove! Jove! this shejiherd's passion 
 Is much upon my lashion. 
 
 Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale 
 with me. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon man, 
 If he for gold will give us any food ; 
 I famt almost to death. 
 
 Touch. Holla; you clown! 
 
 Ros. Feace, fool, he's not thy kinsman. 
 
 Cor. Who calls? 
 
 'Touch. Your better, sir. 
 
 Cor. Kisc arc tlicy very wretched. 
 
 Ros. Peace, I say ; — 
 
 Good even to you, friend. 
 
 Cor. And to yiiu, gentle sir, and to j'ou all. 
 
 Ros. I pry'thee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, 
 Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
 Briiifi us where wo may rest ourselves, and fQcd : 
 Here's a young maid with travel much oppressd, 
 And faints for succor. 
 
 Cor. Fair sir, I pity her. 
 
 And wish for her sake, more tlian for nunc own, 
 My fortunes wtre more able to relieve her: 
 Hut I am shepherd to another man, 
 And do not shear the lleeces that I graze ; 
 My master is of churlisii disposition, 
 And httle recks* to fmd the way to heaven 
 By doing deeds of hospitality : 
 Besides, his cote, his tlocks. and bounds of feed, 
 Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, 
 By reason ol his absence, there is nothing 
 That you will feed on : but what is, come see. 
 And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 
 
 Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and 
 pasture 1 
 
 Cor. 1 hat young swain that you saw Iierc but 
 erewhile, 
 That little cares for buying any thing. 
 
 Rti^. 1 pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 
 B uy Ihou the cottage, pasture, and tlie flock, 
 And tliou shalt have to pay for it of us. 
 
 Ctl. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place. 
 And willingly could waste my lime in it. 
 
 Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold ; 
 Go with me; if you like upon report. 
 The soil, the protit, and this kind of life, ^ 
 I will your very faithful feeder be, * 
 
 And buy itwith your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE y.— The same. 
 Enter Amiens, jAauEs, and others. 
 SONG. 
 Ami. Under the greenwood tree, 
 
 il'ho loves to lie with me. 
 And tune his rntrrij note, 
 Unfu the sivcet bird's throat. 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither; 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy, 
 But icinter and rough weather. 
 ^ In the niyht. 
 
 3 The instrumeut with which washers beat clothes. 
 Cartjs, 
 
178 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 J:iq. More, more, I pr'ytlice, more. 
 A:ni, It will make yuu melancholy, monsieur 
 Jaques. 
 
 Ji.q. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can 
 suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks 
 eggs: More, I pr'ythce, more. 
 
 And. My voice is ragged;* I know, I cannot 
 please you. 
 
 J'lq, 1 do not desire you to please me, I do de- 
 sire you to sing : Come, more ; auottier stanza : 
 Call you them stanzas'! 
 Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. 
 Jaq. Nay, 1 care not for their names; they owe 
 me nothing : Will you sing ! 
 And. More at your request, than to please myself 
 Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man Til 
 thank you ; but that they call conijilinient, is like 
 the eucouater of two ditg-apes ; and when a man 
 thinks me heartily, metiiinks, 1 have given him a 
 penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. — 
 Come, suig ; and you that will not, hold jour 
 tongues. 
 
 Ann. Well, I'll end the song. — Sirs, cover the 
 while; the duke will drink under this tree: — he 
 hath been all this day to look you. 
 
 Jaq. .\nd 1 have been all this day to avoid him. 
 lie is loo disputable' for my compaiiy : I think of 
 as many matters as he; but 1 give heaven thanks, 
 and make no boast of them. Come, warbie, come. 
 SONG. 
 Who doth ctnibil ion shun, [.\11 together here. 
 Ami /lives to live V tlie sun, 
 ticcklng t/iefood tie eats, 
 And jjleas'd with w/uit he ^f Av, 
 Come Idther, come hittier, come hither,- 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy. 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made 
 yesterday in despite of my inveirtion. 
 And. And I'll sing it. 
 Jaq. 'I'hus It goes; — 
 
 If it ilo come to pass, 
 Thai anil man lurn ass. 
 Leaving Ids nralfh and ease, 
 A stubborn iviti to please, 
 X>iicdilnie, ducd'ime, ducdunte, 
 Here sluill lie see 
 Gross foals as he. 
 An if tie will come to Ami. 
 Ami. VV hat's that duciUnte '^ 
 Jrq. ' Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a 
 circle. I 11 go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail 
 against all the nrsl-born of Kgypt. 
 
 Ami. And 111 go seek the duke; his banquet is 
 prepared. [Exeunt sevcrallij. 
 
 SCENE \l.— The same. 
 Enter Orlando and Adam. 
 
 Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, 1 
 die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure outmy 
 grave. Farewell, kind master. 
 
 Orl. Why, how now, Ad.un? no greater heart in 
 theet Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself 
 a little: If this uncouth forest yield any tiling 
 savage, I will either be I'ood for it, or bring it f jr 
 fotul lo thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy 
 powers, p'ur my sake, be comfortable ; hold death 
 awhile at the arm's end: 1 will here be with thee 
 presently , and if I bring thee not something to eat, 
 I'll give thee leave to die : but if thou tlicst before 
 I ome^thou art a mocker of my labor. Well 
 said! thou lookst checrly : and I'll be with thee 
 quickly. — Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I 
 will iiear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not 
 die for lack of a dinner, if there live aiiNlliiiig in 
 this desert. Clieerly, good Adam ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII.— rAe same. 
 
 A ta'ile set out. Enter Dukk Senior, Ajiiens, 
 Lords, and others. 
 
 Duke S. I think lie he transform'd hito a beast; 
 For 1 ('tin nowhere fmd liim like a man. 
 
 1 Lord. My lord, lie is but even now gone hence ; 
 Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 
 
 JJuke S. If he, compact of jars, ' grow musical, 
 
 * Ragged and ruggi'tl hiul formerly tho sanio meaning. 
 • Disputatious. i Mado up of discords. 
 
 We shall have shortly discord in the spheres: — 
 Go, seek him; tell him, 1 would speak with him. 
 Enter jAauEs. 
 
 1 Lord. He saves my labor by his own approach, 
 
 Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur.' what a life 
 is this. 
 That your poor friends must woo your company 1 
 What"! you look merrily. 
 
 Jaq. A fool, a fool ! 1 met a fool i' the forest, 
 
 A motley fool; — a miserable world! — 
 
 As 1 do live by food, I met a fool ; 
 
 Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, 
 
 Ami rail d on laiiy Knrtune in good terms, 
 
 In good set teniis, — and yet a motley fool 
 
 Good mornno.fool. quoth I : No, sir, quoth ne, 
 
 Call me not fool, till heaven liath sent nie fortune: 
 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke ; 
 
 And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
 
 Says, very wisely, 11 is ten o^clock : 
 
 Ttius may we see, quoth he, how the world ivags' 
 
 'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; 
 
 And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven,. 
 
 And .yn, from hour to tuMir, we ripe and ripe. 
 
 And tlien from hour to tiour, we rot and rot, 
 
 And thereby hangs a tale. When 1 did hear 
 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time. 
 
 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 
 
 That fools should be so deep contemplative; 
 
 And 1 did laugh sans intermission. 
 
 An hour by his dial. — O noble fool ! 
 
 A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear." 
 
 Duke S. What fool is this 1 
 
 Jaq. O worthy fool ! — One that hath been a 
 courtier; 
 And says, if ladies be but young, and fair. 
 They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, — 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
 After a voyage, — he hath strange places cramm'd 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms:— O, that I were a fool! 
 1 am ainbitious for a motley coat. 
 
 Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 
 
 Jaq. It is my only suit, 
 
 Provided, that you weed your better judgments 
 Of all opinion that grows rank in tiieiu. 
 That I am wi.se. I must have liberty 
 Withal as large a charter as the wind, 
 To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have. 
 And they that are most galled with my folly, 
 ■f hey most must laugh: Andwhy,sir,must they so 1 
 Tlie whi/ is plain as way to parish church: 
 He, that a fool doth very wisely Jiit, 
 Doth very foolishly, although lit^ smart. 
 Not to seem senseless of the boh : if not, 
 The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd 
 Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. 
 Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 
 To speak my mind, and I will through and through 
 Cleinse the foul body of the infected world. 
 If they will patiently receive my medicine. 
 
 Duke S. Fye on thee ! I can tell what thou 
 would St do. 
 
 Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good 
 
 Duke S. Most misrliievous foul sin, in chiding sin 
 For thou thysell hast been a libertine. 
 As sensual as the brutish sting itself; 
 And all the embossed sores, and headed evils 
 I hat thou with license of free loot hast caught, 
 Wouldst lliou disgorge into the general world. 
 
 Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride. 
 That can therein tax any private party I 
 Doth it not How as hugely as the sea. 
 Till that the very, very means do ebb ! 
 What woman in the city do I name, 
 When that I say. The city-woman bears 
 I'he cost of princes on unworthy shoulders T 
 W ho can come in, and say, that I mean her. 
 When such a one as she, such is her neighbor? 
 Or what is he of basest function, 
 That says, his bravery is not on my cost, 
 (Thinking that I mean him.) but therein suits 
 His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
 There then; How, what then? Let me see wherein 
 My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, 
 Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, 
 Why then, my taxing like a wild goose llie.s, 
 Unelaim'd of any man.— But who comes here ! 
 
 B The tool was anciently dressed in a party-colored coat. 
 » Finery. 
 
SCEKE II. 
 
 AS YOU LIIvE IT. 
 
 179 
 
 Enter OnLiNno, with his sword drawn. 
 
 Orl. Forbear, and cat no more. 
 
 jitq. \\ liy, I have eat none yet. 
 
 Orl. Nor slialt not, till necessity be serv'd. 
 
 Jaq. (If what kind should this cock come of! 
 
 Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd man, by thy 
 distress; 
 Or else a rude despiser of good manners, 
 That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? 
 
 Orl. You touch 'd my \ein at nrst; the thorny 
 point 
 Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
 Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred, 
 And know some nurluie: Hut forbear, I say; 
 He dies, that touches any of this fruit. 
 Till I and my atlairs arc answered. 
 
 Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason^ 
 I must die, 
 
 Duke S. What would you have? Your gen- 
 tleness shall force 
 More than your force move us to jrentlcness. 
 
 Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. 
 
 Dnke S. sit down and feed, and welcome to our 
 table. 
 
 Orl. Speak you so gently 1 Pardon me, I pray 
 you. 
 I thou;;ht that all tliinKS had been savage here; 
 And Iherefcire put I on the countenance 
 Of stern commandment; But whate'er you are. 
 That in this desert inaccessible, 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
 Lose and neslect the creeping hours of time; 
 If ever you have iook'd on better days; 
 If ever been where bells have knoH'd to church; 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast ; 
 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear. 
 And know wriat 'tis to pity, and be pitied; 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: 
 In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. 
 
 Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days. 
 And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church; 
 And sat at good man's feast; and wiped our eyes 
 Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd: 
 And therefore sit you down in gentleness. 
 And lake upon command what help we have, 
 That to your wanting may be minister'd. 
 
 OrL Then, but forbear your food a little while. 
 Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, 
 And give it food. There is an old poor man. 
 Who after me hath many a weary step 
 Limp"d in pure love; till ho Iw first sufficed,— 
 Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, — 
 I will not touch a bit. 
 
 Duke S. Go find him out. 
 
 And we will nothing waste till your return. 
 
 Orl. I thank ye; "and be blcss'd for your good 
 comfort! [Ext/. 
 
 Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy: 
 This wide and universal theaire 
 Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
 Wherein we play in. 
 
 Jaq. All the world's a stage, 
 
 And all the men and women merely players: 
 They have their exits, and their entrances; 
 And one man in his time plays many parts. 
 His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant. 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; 
 And then, tlie whining school- boy, with his satchel. 
 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover; 
 Shining like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eyebrow: Then, a soldier; 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; 
 In fair r<iund belly, with good capon lin'd. 
 With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
 Full of wise saws and modern ' instances. 
 And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts 
 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; 
 With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
 His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 
 For bis shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
 And whistles in his sound; Last scene of all 
 That ends this strange eventful history. 
 Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 
 Re-enter OuiAxno, witfi Adam. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerable 
 burden. 
 And let him li^ed. 
 
 Orl. I thank you most for him. 
 
 Adam. So had you need ; 
 I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble you 
 As yet, to question you about your fortunes: — 
 Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 
 
 Ajiiexs sings. 
 
 SONG. 
 I. 
 
 Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 
 Ttwu art not so unkind 
 An viands ingratitude ; 
 
 Thy tooth is not so keen, 
 
 Becau.ie thou art not .seen, 
 Attluiuf;h Ih:/ breath be rude. 
 Heigh, ho.' .sing:, hri^h, h>>.' unto the green holly. 
 Mustfriend-fhiji isfeigninK, most Itiving mirefolly : 
 
 Then, tieigh, lu>, the hdlyl 
 
 Tliis life IS most jolly. 
 
 II. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, tliou hitter sky, 
 That do.st not bite so nigk 
 
 As benfjits forgot : 
 Though thou the waters warp, 
 Tk}i sting is not so sharp 
 
 As friend remember^d'^ not. 
 Heigh, ho.' si'ng, heigh, ho.' t^c 
 
 Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's 
 son, — 
 As you have wliisper'd faithfully, you were ; 
 And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
 Most truly Itmn'd, and living in your face, — 
 Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke, 
 'Phat lov'd your Hither: The residue of your fortune. 
 Go to my cave and tell me. — Good old' man. 
 Thou art right welcome as thy master is: 
 Support him by the arm. — Give me your hand. 
 And let me all your fortunes understand. 
 
 [E.i-eunt. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 SCENE l.—A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter DcKE FiiKiirnicK, Oliver, Lords, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot 
 be : 
 But were I not the better part made mercy, 
 I should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it; 
 Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is: 
 Seek him with camlle; bring bim dead or living. 
 Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
 To seek a living in our (* rritory. 
 Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine. 
 Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands; 
 
 Till thou canst quit tliee by thy brother's mouth, 
 Of what we think against thee. 
 
 Oli. 0, that your highness knew my heart in this! 
 I never lov'd my brother in my life. 
 Duke F. More villain thou. — Well, push hiin 
 out of doors; 
 And let my otlicers of such a nature 
 Make' an extent^ upon his house and lands: 
 Do this expediently, -1 and turn him going. [Exetinl. 
 SCENE n.—The Forest. 
 Enter OnLAxno, unik a paper. 
 Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: 
 1 Trite, common. ' Rememlu^ring. 
 
 « Seizure, * Expeditiously. 
 
180 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Ami thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey 
 With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spiierc above 
 
 Thy Imntrcss' name, that my full hfe doth sway. 
 O Rosahnd! these trees shall be my books, 
 
 And in their barks my thoughts 111 character; 
 That every eye. which in this forest looks, 
 
 Sliall see thy virtue witness'd every where. 
 Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree, 
 TJie fair, the cliaste, and unexpressive' she. [ExU. 
 
 Enter Conix and Toucustoxe. 
 
 Cor. And how like you tiiis shepherd's life 
 master Touchstone ! 
 
 Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is 
 a uood life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's 
 life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I 
 like it very well ; but in respect tiiat it is private, 
 it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in th& 
 tields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not 
 in tlie court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look 
 you, it tits my humor well ; but as there is no more 
 plenty in it, it goes much a;z;ainst my stomach. 
 H%st any philosophy in thee, shepherd] 
 
 Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one 
 sickens, the w^rse at ease he is; and that he that 
 wants money, 'means, and content, is w ithout three 
 good friends: — That the property of rain is to wet, 
 and lire to burn : That good pasture makes fat 
 sheep ; and that a great cause of the night, is lack 
 of the sun: That he, that hath learned no wit by 
 nature nor art.may complain of good breeding, or 
 cuines of a very dull kmdred. 
 
 Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
 Wa^t ever in court, shepherd 1 
 
 Cor. No, truly. 
 
 Touch. Then thou art damn'd. 
 
 Cor. Nay, I hope, — 
 
 Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an ill- 
 roasted egg, all on one side. 
 
 Cor. For not being at court"! Your reason. 
 
 Tnich. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 
 never saw'st good manners ; if thou never saw'st 
 good manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; 
 and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou 
 art in a parlous state, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. Not a whit. Touchstone : those, that are 
 good manners, at the court, are as ridiculous in the 
 country, as tlic behavior of the country is most 
 iiiockable at the court. You told me, you salute 
 not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that 
 courtesy would he uncleanly, if courtiers were 
 sheplierds. 
 
 Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. 
 
 Cor. Wliy, we are still handlmg our ewes; and 
 their fells, you know, are greasy. 
 
 Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands 
 sweat"! and is not the grease of a mutton as whole- 
 some as the sweat of a man! Shallow, shallow: 
 A better instance, I say; cume. 
 
 Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 
 
 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. — 
 Shallow, again: A more sounder instance, come. 
 
 Cor. And they are often larr'd over with the 
 surgery of our sheep; And would you have us kiss 
 tar ! The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. 
 
 Touch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat, 
 in respect of a good piece of tlesh: Indeed ! — Learn 
 of the wise, and prepend: Civet is of a baser birth 
 th-ui tar; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend 
 the instance, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me ; III rest. 
 
 Touch. Wilt thou rest damn'd ! God help thee, 
 shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art 
 riw.6 
 
 Cor. Sir, I am a true laborer; I earn that I 
 cat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no 
 ifians happiness; glad of other mens good, content 
 with my harm: and the greatest of my pride is, to 
 see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 
 
 Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to 
 bring tlie ewes and the rams together, and to oiler 
 to get your living by tbe copulation of cattle : to 
 be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a she-lamb 
 of a twelvemonth, to a crooked-patcd, old, cuckoldly 
 ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou best 
 not datnuM for this, the devil himself will have no 
 shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 
 'scape. 
 
 • Inexpressible. « Unexperienced. 
 
 Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my 
 new mistress's brother. 
 
 Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. 
 Ros. From the eaat to xvesfern Indj 
 
 No Jewel is like Rosalind ,- 
 
 Her worth, being mounted on the icindf 
 
 Through all the world bears Rosalind ; 
 
 All the pictures, fairest Un'd,'^ 
 
 Are but black to R'>saliii(L 
 
 Let no face be kept in mind, 
 
 But the fairs of Rosalind. 
 Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; 
 dinners and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted; 
 It is the right butter-woman's rank to market. 
 Ros. Out, fool! 
 Touch. For a taste :- 
 
 If a tmart do lack a hind. 
 
 Let hint seek out Rosalind. 
 
 If the cat will after kind, 
 
 hn, be sure, ivill Rosalind. 
 
 Winter-garments 7uust be lin^dj 
 
 So mutit slender Rosalind. 
 
 They that reap must sheaf and bind; 
 
 Then to cart with Rosalind. 
 
 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind. 
 
 Such a nut is Rosalind. 
 
 He that sweetest rose will findj 
 
 Must find love's pt'ick, and Rosalind. 
 
 This is the very false gallop of verses ; Why do you 
 infect yourself with them 1 
 
 Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a 
 tree. 
 Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 
 Ros. I'll gralf it with you, and then I shall grafT 
 it With a medlar : then it will be the earliest fruit in 
 the country: for you'll be rotten ere you be half 
 ripe, and that's t!ie right virtue of the medlar. 
 
 Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or 
 no, let the forest judge. 
 
 Enter Celia, reading a paper. 
 Ros. Peace ! 
 Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. 
 Cel. JVhi/ shmild this desert silent be ? 
 For it h unpeopled? No; 
 Tongues III hang on every tree^ 
 Thai shall civih saying show 
 Some, hnw brief the life of man/ 
 Runs his erring pit Kri mage; 
 That the stretching of a span 
 Buckles in his sum of a^e. 
 So.'oe, of violated vows 
 
 TwiM the souls of friend and friend : 
 But upon the fairest boiKghs 
 Or at every sentence' tndf 
 Will 1 Rosalinda ivrite; 
 
 Teaching all that read, to know 
 The quintessence of every sprite 
 
 Heaven would in little show. 
 Therefore heaven and nature charged 
 
 That one body should be fi-'l d 
 Wilh all grace's ivide enlarg'd: 
 
 Nature presently dhtill'd 
 Helenas cheek, but not her heart; 
 
 Cleopatra's rnfijesty; 
 Atiilanta's better part; 
 
 Sad Lucretius modesty. 
 Thus Rosalind of many parts 
 
 By heavenly synod was devised; 
 Of many faees, eyes, and tiearts. 
 To have the touches^ dearest prized, 
 H'aven would that she these shifts should have 
 And I to live and die her slave. 
 
 Ros. O most gentle Jupiter ! — what tedious 
 homily of love have you wearied jour parishioners 
 withal, and never cryd. Have patience, good people.' 
 
 Ccl. How novi' ! back friends; — Shepherd, go 
 off a little: — Go with him, sirrah. 
 
 Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honor- 
 able retreat; though not wilh bag and baggage, yet 
 with scrip and scrippage. 
 
 [Extunt CoRTv and Touchstose. 
 
 Cel. Didst thou hear these verses? 
 
 Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for 
 some of them had in them more feet than the verses 
 would bear. 
 
 1 Delineated. 
 » Grave, solemn. 
 
 fl Complexion, beau^. 
 » IVatures. 
 
Scene IT. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 ISl 
 
 Cel. That's no matlPr; the :eet miglit bear the 
 verses. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and eould not 
 bear theiiisclves without the verse, und therefore 
 stood lamely in the verse. 
 
 Cel. Hut didst thou hear, without veonderinir how 
 thy name should be hang'd and carved upon these 
 trees ? 
 
 Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the 
 wonder, before you canre; for look here what I 
 found on a palm-tree : I was never so bo-rliynied 
 since Pytha-.;oras' time, that 1 was an Irish rat, 
 which 1 can hardly remember. 
 
 Cel. Trow you. who hath done this t 
 
 Ros. Is it a man ? 
 
 Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his 
 necic : Change you color ! 
 
 Rm. 1 pry thee, who? 
 
 Cel. () lord, lo'ril ! it is a hard matter for friends 
 to meet: but mountains may be removed with earth- 
 quakes, and so encounter. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but who is iti 
 
 Cel. Is it possible "i 
 
 Ros. Kay, I pray tliee now, with most petitionary 
 vehemence, tell me who it is. 
 
 Cel. O wonderful, wondarful, and most wonder- 
 ful wonderful, and yet a^ain wonderful, and after 
 that out of all vvhoopins ! 
 
 Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think. 
 thoUKh lam caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet 
 ' and hose in my disposition ? Une inch of delay more 
 is a Soulh-sea-olf discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, 
 wdio is it ! quickly, and speak apace: I would thou 
 couldst slammer, that thou misntest pour this con- 
 cealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of 
 narrow-mouth'd bottle ; either too much at once, or 
 none at all. I prythee lake the cork out of thy 
 mouth, tliat I may drink thy tidings. 
 
 Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. 
 
 Ros. Is he of God's makini; ! What manner 
 of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth 
 a beard 1 
 
 Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 
 
 Ros. Why, (;od will send more, if the man will 
 be thankl'ui: let me stay the growth of his beard, 
 if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 
 
 Cel. It is young Orlando; that trippd up the 
 wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking ; speak 
 sad brow, and true maid.' 
 
 Cel. r faith, cnz, lis he. 
 
 Rns. Orlando! 
 
 Cel. Orlando. 
 
 Bos. Alas the day. what shall I do with my 
 doublet and hose?— What did he. when thou saw'st 
 him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein 
 went he?» What makes he here? Did he ask for 
 me ? Where remains he ? How parted he with thee ? 
 and when shall thou see him again ? Answer me in 
 one word. 
 
 Cel, You must borrow me Garagantua's' mouth 
 first; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this 
 age's size : To say, ay, and no, to these particulars 
 is more than to answer in a catechism. 
 
 Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, 
 and in mans apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he 
 did the day he wrestled ? 
 
 Cel. It is as easy to count atomies,' as to resolve 
 the propositions of a lover :— but take a taste of 
 my finding him, and relish it with a good observance, 
 1 found him under a tree, like a droppd acorn. 
 
 Roa. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it 
 drops forth s\icli fruit. 
 Cel. Give me audience, good madam. 
 
 Ros. Proceed. 
 
 Cel. There lay he, stretch 'd along like a wounded 
 knight. 
 
 Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it 
 well becomes the ground. 
 
 Cel. Cry, liolla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee: it 
 curvets very unseasonably. He was furnishd like 
 a hunter. 
 Ros. ominous? he comes to kill my heart. 
 Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : 
 thou bring'st me out of tune. 
 
 Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I 
 think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 
 
 » Speak seriously and honestly. " TTow was he dressed ? 
 « The Giant of Kabelais. ' Atoms. 
 
 Enter Uulasho a>i<i jAao-s. 
 
 Cel. You bring me out: — Soft! comes he not 
 here ? 
 
 Ros. 'Tis he ; slink by, and note him. 
 
 [<.r.LiA (iiid ItosALixn retire. 
 
 Jog. I thank you lor your companj- ; but, good 
 failh, I had as lief have been mjsolf alone. 
 
 Orl. And so had I ; but jet, for fashion sake, I 
 thank you too for jour society. 
 
 Jiir;. God be with you; let's meet as little as 
 we can. 
 
 Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 
 
 J(tg. I pray jou. mar no more trees with writing 
 love-songs in their barks. 
 
 Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with 
 reading them ill-favorcdiy. 
 
 Jtiq. Rosalind is your love's name ? 
 
 Orl. Yes, just 
 
 Jug. 1 do not like her name. 
 
 Orl. "There was no thought of pleasing you, when 
 she was christened. 
 
 Jag. What stature is she of? 
 
 (Jrl. Just as high as my heart. 
 
 Jag. You are full of pretty answers: Have you 
 not been acquainled with goldsmith's wives, and 
 conn'd them out of rings? 
 
 Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted 
 cloth," from whence you have studied your ques- 
 tions. 
 
 Jug. You have a nimlde wit ; I think it was made 
 of .Malanta's heels. Will j'ou sit down with me? 
 and we two will rail against our mistress the world, 
 and all our misery. 
 
 Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but 
 myself; against whom I know most faults. 
 
 Jug. The worst fiult you have, is tct be in love. 
 
 Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best 
 virtue, I am weary of you. 
 
 Jag. liy my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when 
 I found JOU. 
 
 Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, 
 and JOU shall see him. 
 
 Jag. There shall I see mine own fisure. 
 
 Orl. Which I take to be either a fool, or a 
 cipher. 
 
 Jog. Ill tarry no longer with you: farewell, good 
 signior love. 
 
 Orl. 1 am glad of your departure; adieu, good 
 monsieur melancholy. 
 
 [Exit jAat'Ts.— Celta and Rosiiixn 
 come forward. 
 
 Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, 
 and imder that habit play the knave with him.— 
 Do you hear, forester ? 
 
 Orl. Very well ; what would you? 
 
 Ros. I pray you, what is't o'clock ? 
 
 Orl. You should ask me what time o'day ; there's 
 no clock in the forest. 
 
 Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; 
 else sighing everv minute, and groaning every hour, 
 would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a 
 clock. 
 
 Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had 
 not that been as proper ? 
 
 Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers 
 paces with divers persons: I'll tell you who time 
 ambcis withal, who time trots wilhal. who time 
 gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. 
 
 Orl. I prythee, who doth he trot withal ? 
 
 Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, 
 lietween the contract of her marriage, and the day 
 it is solemnized : if the interim be but a.se'nnigh"t, 
 tunes pace is so hard that it seems the length of 
 seven years. 
 
 Orl. Who ambles time withal? 
 
 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich 
 man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps 
 easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives 
 merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking 
 the burden of lean and wasteful learning ; the other 
 knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury : These 
 time amtiles withal. 
 
 Orl. Who doth he gallop withal? 
 
 Jlos. With a thief to the gallows; for though he 
 go as softly as a foot can fall, he thinks himself too 
 soon there. 
 
 <^ .\n allusion to the moral sentenees issuing from the 
 mouths of figures on old tapestry hangings. 
 
182 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act IIL 
 
 0)7. Who stays it still witliaH 
 
 Ros. With lawyers in the vai-ation : forthey sleep 
 between term and term, and then they perceive not 
 how time moves. 
 
 OrL Where dwell you, pretty youth ] 
 
 Ros. With this slu'pheriless, my sister; here in 
 the skirts of the torest, iilvc IVin^e upon a petticoat 
 
 0/7. Are you a native ol this^phieel 
 
 Ro.y. As the coney, that you see dwell where 
 she is kindled. 
 
 Ort. Your accent is something: finer than you 
 could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 
 
 R(ts. I have been told so of many: but, indeed, 
 an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, 
 wlw was in his youth an mland man ; one that 
 knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I 
 liave heard him read many lectures against it; and 
 1 thank God, 1 am not a woman, to be touehd 
 with so many giddy offences as he hath generally 
 tax'd their whole sex withal. 
 
 Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils, 
 that fie laid to the charge of women ! 
 
 Ros. There were none principal ; they were all 
 like one another, as half-pence are : every one fault 
 seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to 
 match It 
 
 Orl. I pr'ythee recount of them. 
 
 Ros, ^o; 1 will not cast away my physic, but 
 on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the 
 forest, that abuses our young plants with carving 
 iiosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon haw- 
 thorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deify- 
 ing the name of llosalind : if I could meet that tancy- 
 monger, I would give him some ^ood counsel, tor 
 he seems to have the quotidian ot love upon him. 
 ■ Oi'!. I am he that is so love-shaked ; I pray you, 
 tell me your remedy. 
 
 Rns. f here is none of my uncle's marks upon you: 
 lie taught me how to know a man in love ; m winch 
 cage of rushes, I am sure, you are nut prisoner. 
 
 Orl. What were his marks'! 
 
 Hos. A lean cheek; which you have not: ablue 
 eye, and sunken; wliich you have not: an un- 
 questionable spirit;' which you have not: a beard 
 neglected ; which you have not ;— but I pardon you 
 for that; lot, simply, your having" in beard is a 
 younger brother's revenue: — Then your hose should 
 be ungarterd, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve 
 unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about 
 you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you 
 are no such man ; you are rather point-device" in 
 your accoutrements; as loving yourself, than seem- 
 ing the lover of any other. 
 
 Orl. Fair youth, 1 would I could make thee be- 
 lieve I love. 
 
 Rus. Me believe itl you may as soon make lier 
 that you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is 
 apter to do, than to confess she does: that is one of 
 the points in the which women still give the he to 
 tlieir consciences. But, in good south, are > ou he 
 that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Kosa- 
 lind is so admired I 
 
 Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white liand 
 of Rosalind, 1 am that he, that unfortunate he. 
 
 Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes 
 speak ! 
 
 Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express liow 
 much. 
 
 Ros. Love is merely a madness ; and, I tell you, 
 deserves as well a dark house and a whip, as 
 inad-men do : and the reason why they arc not so 
 punished and cured, is that the lunacy is so ordin- 
 ary, the whippers are in love too: Vet I profess 
 curing it by counsel. 
 
 Orl. Did you ever cure any so! 
 
 Ros. Yes, one ; and hi this manner. He was to 
 imagine me his love, his niislress ; and 1 set him 
 every day to woo me : At wlm h tune would I, being 
 but a moonish' youth, grieve, be elhininate. change- 
 able, loiii^iiiL', and liking ; proud, fantastical, apish, 
 shallow, iiu(>ii>tant, full of tears, full of smiles; for 
 every passion something, and for no passion truly 
 any thinii.as boys and women are lor the most part 
 cattle of this color; would now like him, now 
 loath him; then entertain him, then forswear hjin ; 
 now weep for him, then laugh at him, that I drave 
 my suitor from his mad humor of love, to a living 
 iiuraor of madness : wliich was, to forswear the full 
 1 A spirit averse to conversation. n Estnte. 
 
 » Over-exact. * Variable. 
 
 stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely 
 monastic: And thus I cured him; and this way 
 will 1 take upon me to wash your liver as clean as 
 a sound sheeps heart, that there shall not be one 
 spot of love in't. 
 
 Orl. Lwould not be cured, youth. 
 
 Rus. I would cure you, if you would but call me 
 Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo 
 me. 
 
 Orl. Now by the faith of my love, I will; tell 
 me where it is. 
 
 Ros. Go with me to it, and I Ml show it you ; 
 and by the way, you shall tell me where in tlie 
 forest you live : Will you go ] 
 
 Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind : — Come 
 sister, will you gol [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lU.—Tlusame. 
 
 Enter Touchstone find Audret ; jAauES at a 
 
 distance, observing them. 
 
 Toucli. Come apace, good Audrey : I will fetch 
 up your goals, Audrey : And how, Audrey I am I 
 the man yet ! Doth my simple feature content you? 
 
 Autl. V'our features! Lord warrant us! what 
 features ! • 
 
 Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as 
 the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among 
 the Goths. 
 
 Jaq. (I knowledge ill-inhabited !■> worse than 
 Jove in a thatcliM house ! [. 451/^0. 
 
 Touch. When a mans verses cannot be under- 
 stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the for- 
 ward child, understanding, it strikes a man more 
 dead than a great reckoning in a little room ; — 
 Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. 
 
 Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it hottest 
 in deed, and word '! Is it a true thing ! 
 
 Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is ti.e 
 most feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry ; and 
 what they swear in poetry, niiy be said, as lovers, 
 they do leign. 
 
 Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made 
 me poetical ! 
 
 Touch. I do, truly : for thou swer.rest to me, 
 thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, 1 might 
 have sonic hope thou didst feign. 
 
 Auit. Would you not have me honest? 
 
 Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favor'd : 
 for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a 
 sauce to sugar. 
 
 Jaq. A material fool.' [Aside. 
 
 Aud. Well I am not fair, and therefore I pray 
 the gods make me honest ! 
 
 Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a 
 foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish. 
 
 Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods 
 I am fouI.« 
 
 Touch. Well praised be the gods for thy foulness ! 
 slutlislmess may come hereafier. But be as it may 
 be, I will marry thee : and to that end, I have been 
 with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of llie next vil- 
 lage ; who bath promised to meet me in this place 
 of the forest, and to couple us. 
 
 Jiiq. I would fain sec this meeting; [Aside. 
 
 Aud. Well, the gods give us joy ! 
 
 Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fear- 
 ful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have 
 no temple but the wood, no assembly hut horn- 
 beasts. But what though 1 Courage! As horns are 
 odious, they are necessary. It is said, — Many a man 
 knowsnoendofhisgoods: right; many a man has 
 good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that 
 is the dowry of his wife ; 'tis none of his own getting. 
 
 Horns! Even so: Poor men alone; No, 
 
 no ; the noblest deer hath them as huge as tho 
 rascal.' Is the single man therefore blessed ! No: 
 As a wall'd town is more worthier than a v illage, so 
 is the forehead of a mariied man more honorable 
 than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much 
 dcfencce is better than no skill, by so much ia a 
 horn more precious than to want. 
 
 Enter Sir OiivEn Maii-text. 
 
 Here comes .«ir Oliver:— Sir Oliver JIar-text, you 
 are well met: Will you dispatch us here under tliis 
 tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ! 
 ^ Ill-loilged. ^ A fool with matter in him, 
 
 * Homely, * Lean deer are called rascal deer. 
 
 « The art of fencing. 
 
Pt^ENE V. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 183 
 
 Sir Oil Is there none here to give the woman 7 
 Touch. I will iiut take lii-r on gift of any man. 
 Sir Oli. Truly, s!ie must be given, or the mar- 
 riage is not iawlul. 
 
 Jag- [Dlsmierin/i himself.] Proceed, proceed; 
 I'll give her. 
 
 Touch. Good even, good master What ye callt : 
 How do yoQ, sir ! \ou are very well met; Cod ild 
 you' for your last comijaiiy: 1 am very glad to see 
 you :— Even a toy in hand here, sir :— Nay ; pray 
 be f.overM. 
 Jan- Will you he married, motley 1 
 Touch. h& tlie ox hath his bow," .sir, the horse 
 his curt), and the falcon her bells, so man hath his 
 desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be 
 nibbling. ^ . j. 
 
 Jaq. And will you. being a man of your breeding, 
 be married under a hush. Iilie a beggar ! Get you to 
 church, and have a good priest that can tell you 
 what marriage is: this lellow will but join you to- 
 gether as tht'y join wainscot ; then one of you will 
 prove a shrunk paiinel, and, like green timber, 
 warp, warp. 
 
 Touch. 1 am not in the mind but I were better 
 to be married of him than of another: for he is not 
 like to marry me well ; and jiot being w ell married 
 it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave 
 my wife. ' {Anide. 
 
 Jaq. Go thou vt ith me, and let me counsel thee. 
 Touch. Come, sweet Audrey ; 
 We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. 
 Farewell, good master Oliver! 
 ]\'ot — O sweet Oliver, 
 O brave Oliver, 
 Leave me not behi' thee; 
 But — Wind away, 
 liegone, 1 s.iy, 
 I will not to wedding wi' thee. 
 \Exmnt J la., Touch., anrf .Xudiiet. 
 Sir OH. Tis no matter ; ne'er a fantastical knave 
 of them all shall llout me out of my calling. [Exit. 
 SCKXE IV. — Before a coftage. 
 Enter Kosalind uud Cf.lia. 
 Rns. Never talk to me, 1 will weep. 
 Cel. Do, I pr'ythoe ; but yet have the grace to 
 consider, that tears do not become a man. 
 Ens. But have 1 not cause to weepi 
 Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; there- 
 fore weep. 
 Jios. His very hair is of the dissembling color. 
 Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry, 
 his kisses are Judas's own children. 
 Ros. V laitli his hair is of a good color. 
 Cel. An excellent color: your chesnut was ever 
 the only color. 
 
 Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the 
 touch of holy bread. 
 
 Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: 
 a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more reli- 
 giously ; the very ice of chastity is in them. 
 
 Ro% But why did he swear he vvould come this 
 morning, and comes not ! 
 Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. 
 Ros. Do you think so T 
 
 Cel. Ves: I tlimk he is not a pick-purse, nor a 
 horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think 
 him as concave as a coverd goblet, or a worm- 
 eaten nut. 
 Ros. Not true in love 7 
 
 Ctl. Yes, when he is in ; but, T think, he is not in. 
 Ros. You have heard him swear downright he 
 
 was. 
 Cel. IVa.t is not is: besides the oath of a lover 
 is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are 
 both tile conlirmers of false reckonings: He attends 
 here in the forest on the duke your father. 
 
 Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much 
 question' with him : He asked me of what parent- 
 age I was : I told him, of as good as he ; so lie 
 laugh'd, and let me go. But what talk we of fa- 
 thers, when tlicre is such a man as Orlando'.' 
 
 Cel. O. that's a brave man ! he writes brave 
 verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and 
 breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the 
 heart of his lover; as a puny filter that spurs his 
 horse but on one side, breaks his stalT like a noble 
 goose ; but alls brave, that youth mounts, and folly 
 guides: — Who comes here I 
 ' God reward you. 8 Yoke. " CoUTeraatioa. 
 
 Enter Conix. 
 
 Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired 
 After the shepherd that comp'laind of love; 
 Who you saw sitting by me on the turf. 
 Praising the proud disd'ainful shepherdess 
 That was his mistress. 
 
 Cel. Well, and what of him 7 
 
 Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play d 
 Between the pale complexion of true love 
 .■\nd the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
 Go hence a little, and i shall conduct you 
 11 vou will mark it. 
 
 /(OS. O, come, let us remove ; 
 
 The sight of lovers feedeth those in love:— 
 Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say 
 1 11 prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Another Part of the Forest. 
 Enter SiLVirs and Phebe. 
 
 Sil. Sweet I'hebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe, 
 Say, that you love me not ; but say not so 
 In bitierne.ss: The common executioner. 
 Whose heart the accustomed sight of deatli makes 
 
 hard, 
 Falls not the axe upon the humble neck, 
 Hut first begs pardon ; Will you sterner be 
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops7 
 
 Enter Rosalixb, Celia, mjrf Corns, at a distance' 
 
 Phe. I would not be thy executioner; 
 I lly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
 Thou telfst me, there is murder in mine eye : 
 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, 
 That eyes, — that are the frail st and softest tilings, 
 Who shut their coward gates on at.i-nies, — 
 Should be called tyrants, butclicrs, inurderers! 
 Now I do frown on llu-e with all my heart : 
 ,\nd, if miiieej escan wound, now let them K-ill thee; 
 Now counterfeit to swoon ; why nosv fall down; 
 Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, 
 Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. 
 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: 
 Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
 Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, 
 The cicatrice and capable imprcssure 
 Tliy palm some momeiit keeps : but now mine eyes 
 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; 
 Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
 That can do hurt. 
 
 Sil. dear Phehe, 
 
 If ever, (as that ever may be near.) 
 You meet in some iVesli cheek the power of fancy 
 Then shall yon know the wounds invisible 
 That love's keen arrows make. 
 
 plic. But, till that time. 
 
 Come not thou near me; and, when that time conies, 
 .\fllict me with thy mocks, pity me not; 
 .\s. till that time 1 shall not pity thee. 
 
 Ros. .\nd why, I pray you 7 [Advancing.] Who 
 might h,^ your mother. 
 That you insull, exult, and all at once. 
 Over the wretched? What though you have more 
 
 beauty, 
 {.\s, by my faith, I sec no more in you 
 Than without candle m ly go dark to bed,) 
 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless! 
 Why, what means this 7 Why do you look on me 7 
 I see no more in you, than in the ordin:iry 
 Of natures sale-work :—Od's my little life! 
 1 think she means to tangle my eyes too :— 
 No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 
 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair. 
 Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, 
 That eaii entainc my spirits to your worship.— 
 You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her. 
 Like I'o^gy south, pufling with wind and rain 7 
 You are a' thousand times a properer man, 
 ■phan she a woman ; "Pis such fools as you. 
 That make the world full of ill-favored children : 
 'Tis not her glass, but you that Hatters her: 
 And out of you she sees herself more proper, 
 Than any of her lineaments can show her.— 
 But. mistress, know yourself; down on your knees. 
 And thank heaven, histing, for a good mans love.: 
 For I must tell you friendly in your ear,— 
 Sell when you can; you are not for all markets: 
 Cry the man mercy: love him; take his offer; 
 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scolper. 
 So take her to thee, shepherd ;— fare you weU. 
 » Lavo. 
 
1S4 
 
 AS YOU LIIvE IT. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 PA£. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- 
 pether ; 
 1 had ratlier hear you chide than this man woo. 
 
 Jios. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and 
 she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as 
 fast as s!ie answers thee with frowning looks. 111 
 saace iier with bitter words. — Why look you so 
 upon nie ! 
 
 Phe. For no ill-will I bear you. 
 
 Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me. 
 For I am falser than vows made in wine: 
 IJesides, I hke you not: If you will know my house, 
 'Tis at the tuft of olives, hern liard by :— 
 Will you go, sister? — Shepherd, piy her hard — 
 Come, sister :—Sheperdess, look on him better, 
 And be not proud: though all the world cuuld see. 
 None could be so abus'd in sight as he. 
 Coine,to our dock. 
 
 \Exeunt Ros.iLi:sn, Celia, and Cokts. 
 
 Plie. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of 
 might; 
 Who ever luv'd, that lov'd nut at first sight. 
 
 SU. Sweet Phebe,— 
 
 Pke, Ha ! what say'st thou, Silvius ? 
 
 Sii. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 
 
 Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 
 
 SiL Wlierever sorrow is, relief would be ; 
 If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
 By giving love, your sorrow and my grief 
 Were both extermin'd. 
 
 Phs. rhou hast my love : Is not that neighborly! 
 
 SU. I would have you. 
 
 Pfie. Why, that were covetousness. 
 
 Silvius, the time %vas, that I hated thee; 
 And yet it is not, that I bear thee love: 
 liut, since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
 Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
 I will endure; and I'll employ thee too, 
 But do not look for further recompense. 
 Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. 
 
 SU.' So holy and so perfect is my love, 
 And I in such a poverty of grace, 
 
 That I shall think it most plenteous crop 
 
 To glean the broken ears after the man 
 
 That the main harvest reaps: lose now and then 
 
 A scatter'd surUe, and that I'll live upon. 
 
 P/ie. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to me 
 erewhile .' 
 
 .Si;. Not very well, but I have met him oft; 
 And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, 
 That the old carlot' once v\as master of. 
 
 Plie. Think not I love him. though 1 ask for him ; 
 'Tis but a peevish' boy :— yet he talks well;— 
 liut what care I for words ! yet words do well. 
 When he that speaks them jjlcases those that hear. 
 It is a pretty youth :— not very pretty :— 
 But, sure, he's proud ; anil jv' his pride becomes him: 
 He'll make a proper man; the best thing m him 
 Is his complexion : and faster than his tongue 
 Did mike ortence, his eye did heal it up. 
 He is not tall; yet for his 5'ears he's tall : 
 His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well: 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip ; 
 A little riper and more lusty red 
 riian that mixed in his cheek ; 'twas just tl e dif- 
 ference 
 Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
 There be some women, Silvius, had ihey mark'd him 
 In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
 To fall in love with him : but for my part, 
 I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet 
 I have more cause to hate him than to love llim: 
 For what had he to do to chide at me : 
 He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; 
 And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: 
 I marvel, why I answer'd not again : 
 But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
 Ill write to him a very taunting letter. 
 And thou shalt bear it: Wilt thou, Silvius ! 
 
 SU. Phebe, with all my heart. 
 
 piie. I'll write it straight; 
 
 The matter's in my head, and in my heart ! 
 I will be bitter with luui, and passing short: 
 Go with me, Silv.us. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.—The Sime. 
 Enter Rosalind, Celia, and jAaUES. 
 
 Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better 
 acquainted with thee. 
 
 Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. 
 
 Jail- I am so ; 1 do love it better than laughing. 
 
 Ro.t. Those that are in extremity of eitlier, are 
 abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every 
 modern censure, worse than drunkards. 
 
 Jiiq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. 
 
 Rti. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. 
 
 Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, 
 which is emulation; nor the musician's which is 
 fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor 
 the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, 
 which is politic; nor the lady s, which is nice;' 
 nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a mel- 
 ancholy of mine ov/n, compounded of many sim- 
 ples, extracted from many objects: and, indeed, 
 the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which 
 my often rumination wraps me, is a most humor- 
 ous sadness. 
 
 Rm. A traveler ! By my faith, you have great 
 reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own 
 lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, 
 and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor 
 hands. 
 
 Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 
 
 Enter Orlasdo. 
 
 Riis. .\nd your experience makes you sad: I 
 had rather have a fool to make me merry, than 
 experience to make me sad and to travel for it too. 
 
 Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! 
 
 Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk 111 
 blank verse. |£.i'(/. 
 
 Rns. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you 
 lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable' all the benefits 
 of your own country; be out of love with your na- 
 « Trifling. = Uudcrvalue. 
 
 tivitj-, and ahnost chide God for making you that 
 countenance you are: or I will scarce think you 
 have swam in a g indola.— Why, how now, (irlan- 
 do! where have you been all this while ! You a 
 lover?— An you serve me such another trick, nev- 
 er come in itiy sight more. 
 
 Ort. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour 
 of my promise. , tt .1, . 
 
 Ron. Break an hour s promise m love ! He that 
 will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and 
 break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute 
 in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that 
 Cupid hath clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I war- 
 rant him heart-whole. 
 
 Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in 
 my sight; I had as lief be woo'd of a snad. 
 
 Ori. Of a snail! , ,. ,, , , 
 
 Ros. .'^y. of a snail; for though he comes slowly, 
 he carries his house on his head ; a better jointure, 
 I think, than you can make a woman: Besides, he 
 brin','s his destiny with him. 
 
 Orl. What's that! 
 
 Rm. Why, horns; which such as you are tain 
 to be beholden to your wives for: but he comes 
 armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander ot 
 liis wife. , J T, ,• 1 
 
 Orl. 'Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Rosalind 
 is virtuous. 
 
 Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 
 
 Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath 
 a Uosalmd of a better leer» than you. 
 
 Riis. Come, woo me, woo me ; lor now I am m 
 a holiday humor, and like enough to consent: — 
 What would you say to me now, an I were your 
 very very Rosalind ! 
 
 Orl. I would kiss thee before I spoke. 
 
 Ro-<. Nay, you wcfe better speak first ; and when 
 you were gravelled for lack ot matter, you might 
 take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when 
 « Peasant. • Silly. ' Comploxiou. 
 
Scene If. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 185 
 
 tlicy are out, Ihey will spit; and for lovers, lacking 
 (God warn us!j matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. 
 
 QrU How, if tiie kiss be denied ! 
 
 Ros. Tlien she puts you to entreaty, and there 
 begins new matter. 
 
 Ori. VV lio could be out, being before his beloved 
 mistress '! 
 
 iJus. Marry, that should you, if I were your 
 mistress ; ur 1 should think my honesty ranker 
 tiian my wit. 
 
 Orl. What, of my suit? 
 
 Riis. N(.t out of your apparel, and yet out of 
 your suit. Am not 1 your Kosalind ! 
 
 Ori. I take some joy to say you are, because 1 
 would be talking of her. 
 
 Rus. Well, in lier person, I say — I will not have 
 you. 
 
 Orl. Then, in mine own person, 1 die. 
 
 Ros. rso. 'faith, die by attorney. The poor world 
 is almost six. thousand years old, and m all this 
 time there wasnot any man died in his own person, 
 viictket, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains 
 dashed out witli a Grecian club^ yet he did what 
 he could to die before ; and he is one of the pat- 
 terns of love. Leander, he would have lived many 
 a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had 
 not been for n hot midsunicr niglit ; for, good 
 youtli, he went but forth to wash hiin in the Hel- 
 lespont, and being taken with the cramp, was 
 drowned ; and the foolish chroniclers of that age 
 found it was — Hero of Sestos. But these are all 
 lies; men ha\e died from time to time, and worms 
 have eaten them, but not for love. 
 
 Orl. 1 would not have my right Rosalind of this 
 mind; for. I protest, lier frown might kill me. 
 
 Ros. By tills hand, it will not kill a tly : But 
 come, now 1 will be your Rosalind in a more com- 
 ing-on disposition ; and ask me what you will, I 
 will iirant it. 
 
 Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 
 
 Rus. Vcs, "faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, 
 and all. 
 
 Orl. And wilt thou have me? 
 
 Ros. Ay, and twenty such. 
 
 Orl. What sayst thou 1 
 
 Ros. Are you not good \ 
 
 Orl. 1 hope so. 
 
 Rox. Why then, can one desire too much of a 
 good thing ! — Come, sister, you shall be the priest, 
 and marry us. — Give me your hand, Orlando : — 
 What do you say, sister ! 
 
 Orl. Pray thee, marry us. 
 
 Cel. I cannot say the words. 
 
 Ros. You must begin, — Will you^ Orlando, — 
 
 Cel. Go to: — Will you, Orlando, have to wife 
 this Rosalind ! 
 
 on. I will. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but when? 
 
 Orl. W liy now ; as fast as she can marry us. 
 
 Ros. Tiien you must say, — Ilakctkcij, Rosalind, 
 for wift. 
 
 Orl. 1 lake tliee, Rosalind, for wife. 
 
 Rns. I might ask you for your commission; 
 but, — I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: 
 There a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, 
 a woman's thou'.'ht runs before her actions. 
 
 Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. 
 
 Ros. Now tell nie how long you would have her, 
 after you have married her. 
 
 Orl. For ever and a day. 
 
 Rns. Say a day, without tlie ever : No, no, Or- 
 lando; men are April when they woo, December 
 when they wed: maids are May when Ihey are 
 maids, but tlie sky changes when they are wives. I 
 win be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock- 
 pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot 
 against rain ; more new-fangled than an ape; more 
 ciddy in my desuTs than a monkey: I will weep 
 for nothing^ like Diana in the fountain, and I will 
 di.i that when you are disposed to be merry ; I will 
 iaugh likea hyena, and that when thou art inclined 
 to sleep. 
 
 Orl. Hut will my Rosalind do so ? 
 
 Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. 
 
 Orl. O, but she is wise. 
 
 Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do 
 this: the wiser, the waywarder ; Make the doors' 
 upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the case- 
 ment; shut that, and twill out at the key-hole; 
 1 Bur the doors. 1 
 
 stop tliat, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chim- 
 ney . 
 
 Orl. .A. man that had a wife with such a wit, he 
 might say,— ((•'(/, ivhilher wUt? 
 
 iios. Nay, you iiiigiit keep that check for it, till 
 you met your wife's wit going to your neighbor's 
 lied. 
 
 Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse 
 that ! 
 
 Ros. Marry, to say,— slie came to seek you there. 
 You shall never take, her without her answer, un- 
 less you take I.er without her tongue. O, that 
 woman that cannot make her fault her husband's 
 occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for 
 she will breed it like a fool, 
 
 Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave 
 thee. 
 
 Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lock thee two hours. 
 
 Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two 
 o'clock I will be with thee again. 
 
 Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways: — I knew 
 what you would prove ; my friends told meas much, 
 and I thought no less: — that Uattering tongue of 
 yours won me : — 'tis but one cast away, and so, — 
 come, death. — Two o'clock is your hour? 
 
 Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so 
 God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not 
 dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, 
 or come one minulc behind yo'ur hour, 1 w ill think 
 you the most pathetiral break-promise, and the 
 most hollow lover, and the most unwortliy of her 
 you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the 
 gross band of the unfaithful: therefore, beware my 
 censure, and keep your itromise. 
 
 Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert in- 
 deed my Rosalind; So adieu. 
 
 Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines 
 all such otlenders, and let time try : Adieu. 
 
 [Exit Ohlaxdo. 
 
 Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your 
 love-prate: we must have your doublet and nose 
 plucked over your head, and show the world what 
 the bird hath done to her own nest. 
 
 Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that 
 thou didst know how many fathom deep 1 am in 
 love! But it cannot be sounded ? my alfectton hath 
 an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 
 
 Ci-i. Or rather, bottomless ; that as fast as you 
 pour alTection in it runs out. 
 
 Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, 
 that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and 
 born of madness ; that blind rascally boy, that abuses 
 every one's eyes because his own are out, let hira 
 be judge how deep I am in love.:— I'll tell thee, 
 Aliena. I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: 
 Fll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. 
 
 Cel. And V\l sleep. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Another part of Itie Forest. 
 Enter J\Q.vhs and Lords, in tlie habit i/f Foresters. 
 Jaq. \S'hich is he that killed the deer? 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, it was I. 
 
 Jaq. Let's presenthim to the duke. like a Roman 
 coiKjueror; and it would du well io set the deer's 
 horns upon his head, for a branch of victory : 
 Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ? 
 
 2 Lord. Yes, sir. 
 
 Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune 
 so it make noise enough. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. What shall he hare that kill'd the deer? 
 
 2. His leather skin and horns to wear. 
 
 1. Then, .si??^ him home : 
 Take thou no scorn, lo ti-rar the linrn ; 1 The rest: 
 11 was a crest ere thou njasl born ; \ in'ar this 
 
 ) burlen. 
 
 1. Thy father's father wore it ; 
 
 2. And thiifallirr bore it : 
 
 All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn. 
 
 Is not a ihin^ to laugh to sct_>rn. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE lU.—The Forest. 
 Enter Rosat.inti a7id Ckli.». 
 Ros. How .say you now? Is it not past two 
 o'clock ? and here much Orlando ! 
 
 Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled 
 brain, he hath ta'en his ln.nv and arrows, and isgone 
 forth — to sleep : Look, who comes here. 
 
186 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 AfT IV. 
 
 Enter Silvius. 
 Sil. My errand is to you, fair youtli;— 
 My gentle Phebe bid ma give you tliis ; 
 
 [Gioing a letter . 
 I know nut the contents; but, as I guess, 
 By the stern brow, and waspisli action 
 Which she did use as she was writing of it, 
 It bears an angry tenor: pardon me, 
 I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
 
 Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter. 
 And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all ; 
 She says, 1 am not iair; that I lack manners; 
 She calls me proud ; and, that she could not love me 
 Were man as rare as phoenix; (id's my will ! 
 Her love is not the haie that I do hunt : 
 Wliy writes she so to me .'—Well, shepherd, well, 
 Tills is a letter of your own device. 
 
 Sit. No, I protest, 1 know not the contents ; 
 Phebe did write it. 
 
 Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, 
 
 And turn'd into the extremity of love. 
 I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, 
 A freestone-color'd hand; 1 verily did think 
 That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands ; 
 She has a housewife's hand : but that's no matter: 
 I say. she never did invent this letter: 
 This is a man's invention, and his liand. 
 Sil. Sure, it is hers. 
 
 Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 
 A style for challengers; why she defies me. 
 Like Turk to Christian : woman's gentle brain 
 Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, 
 Such Ethiop words, blacker in their edect 
 Than in their countenance :— Will you hear the 
 letter I 
 SU. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 
 Yet heard too much of Phebes cruelty. 
 Ros. She Phebe's me: Mark how the tyrant 
 writes. [Reads. 
 
 Art ihnu god to shepherd turn'd. 
 Thai a maiden's ticurt halh, burn'd? — 
 Can a woman rail thus ? 
 Sil. Call you this railing ? 
 Ros. IVIiy tht/ godhead laid apart, 
 
 Warr'st' thou with a woman's heart ? 
 Did you ever hear such railing ? — 
 
 Whiles tlie ei/e nf man did luoo me. 
 Thai could do no vengeance to me.— 
 Meaning mo a beast. — 
 
 If the scorn of your bright eyne 
 Have power to raise such love in mine, 
 A lack, in me tvliat strange effect 
 Would they ivorji in mild aspect.^ 
 Whiles you chid me, I did love ; 
 H:nv then might t/our prayers move ? 
 He that brings thli Itive to thee. 
 Little knows tfiis tore in me : 
 And hy him seol n/i thi/ mind ; 
 Wh'ther Ihrit /Ay i/nnth and kind' 
 Will the faithful i'Xfer take 
 ly' me, and all that I can make: 
 Or else by hint mi/ love deny, 
 Ant then I'll study how to die. 
 Sil. Call you this chiding 1 
 Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! 
 
 Ros. Do you pity him 1 no, he deserves no pity* 
 —Wilt thou love such a woman ?— What, to make' 
 thee an instrument, and play false strains upon 
 thee ! not to be endured !— Well, go your way to 
 her, (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake.) 
 and say this to her:— That if she love me, I charge 
 her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have 
 her, unless thou entreat for her.— If you be a true 
 lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more 
 company. [Exit Silvius. 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 OH. Good-morrow, fair ones : Pray you, if you 
 know 
 Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands 
 A sheep-cote, fenced about with olive-trees T 
 Cel. West of this place, "down in the neighbor 
 boltom 
 The rank of osiers, by the murmuring s'.ream. 
 Left on >our rigiit band, brings you to the place : 
 lint at this hour the house doth keep itself, 
 Tlicre's none within. 
 
 " Nature. 
 
 OH. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, 
 Then I should know you by description: 
 Such garments, and such years : The boy is fair, 
 Of female favor, ami bcstoo-i himself 
 Like a ripe sister: but the wotnan low, 
 And browner than her brother. Are not you 
 The owner of the house I did enquire for^ 
 Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are. 
 OH. Orlando doth commend him to you both ; 
 And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind, 
 He sends this bloody napkin ; Are you he 1 
 Ros. lam: what must we understand by this? 
 Oli. Some of my shame ; if you wdl know of me 
 What man I am, and how, and why, and where 
 This handkerchief was stain'd. 
 Cel. I pray yo" tcH i'- 
 
 OH. When last the young Orlando parted from 
 you. 
 He left a promise to return again 
 Within an hour ; and, pacing through the forest, 
 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 
 Lo, what befell ! he threw his eye aside. 
 And, mark, what object did present itself! 
 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 A wretched ragged UKin, oei-grown with hair, 
 Lay sleeping on his hack ; about his neck 
 A green and gildeii snake had wreathed itself, 
 Who with her head, nimble in threats; approach'd 
 The opening of his mouth ; hi:t suddenly 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, 
 And with indented glides did slip away 
 Into a bush: under which bush's shade 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. 
 Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch. 
 When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis 
 The royal disposition of that beast. 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead ! 
 This seen, Orlando did approach the man, 
 And found it was his brother, his elder brother. . 
 Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same 
 brother : 
 And he did render' him the most unnatural 
 That liv'd 'mongst men. . 
 
 OH. And well he might so do. 
 
 For well I know he was unnatural. 
 
 Ros. But, to Orlando;— Did he leave him there. 
 Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ? 
 
 0/i. Twice didhe turn his back,and purpose so: 
 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge. 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion. 
 Made him give battle to llie lioness. 
 Who quickly fell before him; in which hurthng. 
 From miserable slumber I awak'd. 
 Cel. Are you his brother ! 
 jlos. Was it you he rescu'd 7 
 
 Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill 
 
 him! 
 Oli. 'Twas I; but'tis not I; I do not shame 
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
 So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 
 Ros. But for the bloody napkin !—. 
 OH. By. and by. 
 
 When from the first to last, betwixt us two, 
 Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd 
 
 As, how I came into tliat desert place; 
 
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke. 
 Who gave me fresh array and entertainment. 
 Committing me unto my brother's love; 
 Who led me instantly unto his cave. 
 There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm 
 The lioness had torn some llesh away. 
 Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted. 
 And cry'd, in tainting, upon Rosalind. 
 Brief, I recover'd him ; bound up his wound; 
 And, after some small space, being strong at hear'. 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am. 
 To tell this story, that you might excuse 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin, 
 Dyd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth 
 That he in sport doth call his Uosalind. 
 
 Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Gany- 
 mede ? [KOSALI Nl) /oi"/s. 
 OH. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. 
 Cel. There is more in it :— Cousin— Ganymede ! 
 Oli. Look, he recovers. 
 
 ]i„s, I would, I were at home 
 
 Cel. We'll lead you thither:- 
 I pray you, will you take him by the arm 7 
 6 Describe. ' Scuffle. 
 
Act V. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 187 
 
 on. Be of good cheer, youth :— You a man?— 
 "i ou lack a man's iicart. 
 
 Ros. I do so, I couicss it. Ah, sir, a body would 
 tniuk this was well counterfcilcd : I pray you, tell 
 vour brotlier liow well I counteileited.— Heigh 
 
 OU. This was not counterfeit; there is too great 
 testimony in your complexion, that itwas a passion 
 of earnest. 
 
 Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 
 
 Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and coun- 
 terfeit to be a man. 
 
 Bus. So I do: but, iTaith I should have been a 
 woman by right. 
 
 Ctl. Come.'you look paler and paler ; pray you, 
 draw homewards;— Good sir, ko with us. 
 
 Oil. That will I, (or I must bear answer back. 
 How you excuse my brother, Hosa'ind. 
 
 Ros. 1 shall devise something: But, I pray you, 
 commend my counterfeiting to him : — Will you go? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.-T/ie same. 
 Enter Touchstoxe and AnoRET. 
 
 Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, 
 gentle Audrey. 
 
 Ami. Failh, the priest was good enough, for all 
 the old gentleman's saying. 
 
 Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a 
 most vile iVIar-te.xt. But, Audrey, there is a youth 
 here in the forest lays claim to you. 
 
 And. Ay, I know who 'tis; he iiath no interest 
 in me in the world : here comes the man you mean. 
 
 Enter William. 
 
 Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: 
 By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to 
 nnswer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. 
 
 Will. Good even, Audrey. 
 
 Auii. (iod ye good even, William. 
 
 IViLl. And good even to you, sir. 
 
 Tbuch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy 
 head, cover thy head ; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. 
 How old are you, friend? 
 
 U'ill. Five and twenty, sir. 
 
 Touch. A ripe age: Is thy name William ? 
 
 IViU. William, sir. 
 
 Touch. A fair name ; Wast born i'the forest hej-e? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I thank God. 
 
 Touch. Thank Gw/,— a good answer : Art rich? 
 
 Will. 'Faith, sir, so so. 
 
 Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent 
 good: — and yet it is not; it is but so, so. Art 
 thou wise? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 
 
 Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now re- 
 member a saying: The font doth think he is wise, 
 but the wise man Icnows himself to be a fool. The 
 lieathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a 
 grape, would open his lips when he put it into his 
 mouth ; meaning thereby, that grapes were made 
 to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid ? 
 
 Wilt. I do, sir. 
 
 Touch. Give me your hand : Art thou learned ? 
 
 JVill. No, sir. 
 
 Touch. Then learn this of me ; To have, is to 
 have : For it is a fi,riire in rhetoric, that drink, being 
 poured out of a cup into a glass, by rtlling the one 
 doth empty the other: For all your writers do con- 
 sent, that ipse is he ; now you are not ipse, for I am he. 
 
 Will. Which he, sir? 
 
 Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman: 
 Therefore, you clown, abandon,— which is, in the 
 vulgar, leave,— the society,— whicli in the boorish 
 is, company,— of this female,— which in the com- 
 mon is, woman,— which together is, abandon tlie 
 society of this female; or. clown, thou perishest; 
 or. to thy better understanding, diest: to wit, I kill 
 thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, 
 thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with 
 thee, or in bastinado, or in .steel; I will bandy with 
 thee in fiction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I 
 will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways ; therefore 
 tremble, and depart. 
 And. Do, good William. 
 
 Will. God rest you, merry sir. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Coniw. 
 
 Cor. Our master and mistress seek you ; come, 
 away, away. 
 
 Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey;— I attend 
 I attend. [Exetmi. 
 
 SCENE U.— The same. 
 Enter Orlando and Olivf.r. 
 
 Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance, 
 you should like her? that, but seeing, jou should 
 loveher? and. loving, woo? and, wouing,sheshould 
 grant ? and will you pers^ver to enjoy Tier ? 
 
 Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, 
 the poverty of her, the .small acquaintance, my 
 sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but 
 say with me, 1 love Aliena ; say with her, that she 
 loves me ; consent with both, that we may enjoy 
 each other : it shall be to your good ; for my fathers 
 house, and all the revenue that was old Sir Kow- 
 land's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die 
 a shepherd. 
 
 Enter Rosalixd. 
 
 Orl. 'i"ou have my consent. Let your wedding 
 be to-morrow ; thither will I invite the duke, and 
 all his contented followers: Go you, and prepare 
 Aliena ; for, look you. here comes my KosahiiU. 
 
 Ros. God save you, brother, 
 
 Oli. And you, i'air sister. 
 
 Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to 
 see thee wear thy heart in a scarf. 
 
 Orl. It is my arm. 
 
 Ros. 1 thought, thy heart had been wounded 
 with the claws of a lion. 
 
 Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 
 
 Ros. Did your brother tell you howl counterfciled 
 to swoon, when he showed nie your handkerchief? 
 
 Orl. Ay. and greater wonders than that. 
 
 Ros. O, I know where you are: — Nay, 'tis true: 
 there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight 
 of two rams, and Cjcsar's thrasonical brag of— I 
 came, saw, and orercame: For your brother and 
 my sister no sooner met, but they looked ; no soonei 
 looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they 
 sighed ; no sooner sighed, but they asked one an- 
 other the reason ; no sooner knew the reason, but 
 they sought the remedy : and in these degrees have 
 they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they 
 will climb incontinent, or else be iiicoiiliiient be- 
 fore marriage: they are in the very wrath of love, 
 and they will together; clubs cannot part them. 
 
 Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I 
 will bid the dulic to the nuptial. But, O, iiow 
 bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through 
 another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I 
 to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by 
 how much I shall think my brother happy, in 
 having what he wishes lor. 
 
 Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your 
 turn for Rosalind? 
 
 Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 
 Ros. I will weary you no ionger then with idle 
 talking. Know of me then, (for now I speak to 
 some purpose.) that I know yon are a genlleman of 
 good conceit: 1 speak notthis.that you should bear 
 a good opiniort of my knowledge, iiisonuich, I say, 
 I icnow 3"ou are; neither do I labor for a greater 
 esteem than may in some little measure draw 
 a belief from you, to do yourself good, and not to 
 grace me. Believe then if you please, that I can 
 do strange things: I have, since I was three years 
 old, conversed with a magician most prolound in 
 this art, and yet not damnable. If you do love 
 Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it 
 out, when your brother marries Aliena. shall you 
 marry her: I kiiowinto what straits of fort line she 
 is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it ap- 
 pear not inconvenient to you, to set her before 
 
188 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act Y 
 
 your eyes to-morrow, Ijuinan as she is, and without 
 any danger. . . t 
 
 Ori. Siieakest thou ui soDer meanings ! 
 
 Ros. By my life, I do: wliich 1 tender dearly, 
 though I say I am a maijieian: Tlieret'ore, put you 
 in yonr best array, bid your friends; for if you will 
 be married to-morrow, you shall ; and to Kosalind, 
 if you Will. 
 
 Enter Silvius and Pkebe. 
 
 Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers. 
 
 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, 
 To show the letter that I writ to you. 
 
 Ros. I caie not, if I liave: it is my study 
 To seem despiteful and uiiseutle to you : 
 You are there foUowd by a liiithful shepherd; 
 Loo'< upon him, love him ; he worships you. 
 
 Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youtli what 'tis to 
 love. 
 
 SU. It is to he all made of sighs and tears;— 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Pkc. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no winnan. 
 
 SU. It is to be all made of faith and service ;— 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I tor Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And 1 for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 SU. It is to be all made of fantasy, 
 All made of passion, and all made of wishes: 
 All adoration, duty and observance, 
 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 
 All purity, all trial, all observance;— 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And so am 1 lor Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 
 
 Rds. And so am I for no woman. 
 
 Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
 you! [To RosALixn. 
 
 SV. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
 
 you? iroPllKBK. 
 
 Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ! 
 
 R;'S. Who do you speak to, why blame you me 
 to love you? , .. . , 
 
 Orl. To her, that is not here, nor doth not hear. 
 
 Rns. Pray you no more of this; 'tis like the 
 houlmLT of Irish wolves against the moon.— I will 
 help you, [To SiLTius.l if I can:— I would love 
 you. [Tu Phebe. 1 if I could.- To-morrow meet 
 me all together.— 1 will marry you, [To Phebe.J il 
 ever I marry woman, and ill be married to-morrow : 
 —I will .satisfy you. | To Ont-Asno. | if ever I 
 ■^at s6el man, and vou shall be married to-morrow 
 — I will content yoii, | To SiLVirs.] if what pleases 
 you contents yuu, and you shall be married to- 
 morrow.— As vou [To Oni.ANiio.l love Rosalind, 
 meet;— as you [To SiLVirs.) love Phebe, meet; 
 and as I love no woman. I'll meet.— So, tare you 
 well; 1 have left you commands. 
 
 .Si'. Ill not fail, if I live. 
 
 Pkc. Nor I- 
 
 Orl. Nor I. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE in.— TAe same. 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Acdret. 
 
 Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; 
 to-morrow will we be mirried. 
 
 4ii<?. 1 do desire it with all my heart: and hope 
 it IS no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of 
 the world.» Here comes two of the banished duke s 
 pages. 
 
 Enter two Pages. 
 
 1 Pa^e. Well met, honest gentleman. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, well met: Come, sit, sit, 
 and a song. . 
 
 " />«"■(•. We are for you: sit i' the middle. 
 
 1 P. lie. Shall we clap into't roundly, without 
 hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse; 
 which are the only prologues to a bad voice 1 
 
 2 Pa^e. Ifoitb i faith; and both in a tune, like 
 two gipsies on a hor.se. 
 
 SONG. 
 I. 
 
 /( u:ri.i a lover find his lass, 
 
 WUh a hey, and a lio, and a hey nnmno, 
 ^ A married woman. 
 
 In Ike spring time, the only pretty ranii timet 
 That o'er the green corn-fietii dbipuss, 
 
 Wlien birds dn sing, hiy ding u ding, dingi 
 Sweet lovers love the sjjring. 
 
 II. 
 Between the acres of Ike rye, 
 
 IVUh a heij, and a kn, and a hey nonino, 
 These pretty countryfolks would lie, 
 hi spring time, die. ■ 
 III. 
 Thi.t carol they began that hour, 
 
 IVifh a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 How fliat a life vas but a flower 
 III spring time, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 And therefore falie the present lime, 
 
 IVitk a hey, and a ho, and a key nonino ; 
 For lore is crowned with the prune 
 In spring time, &c. 
 
 Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
 was no greater matter in the ditty, yet the note was 
 very unluneahle. 
 
 1 Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we 
 lost not our time. 
 
 Touch. Ay my troth, yes; I count it but time 
 lost to hear such a foolish song. God be with you ; 
 and God mend your voices; — Come, Audrey. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE W.— Another part of Ike Forest. 
 
 Enter Duke Senio;-, .'V^hiens, jAacEs, Orlando, 
 ULivEU, and Celia. 
 
 Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, th.at the boy 
 Can do all this that he hath promised ! 
 
 Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do 
 not; 
 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. 
 
 Enlcr RosALi.sn, Silvius, and Phere. 
 Ros. Patience once more, whiles our con!p&ct is 
 urg'd :— 
 You .say, it I bring in your Rosalind, 
 
 I To We Duke. 
 Yon will bestow her on Orlando here? 
 Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give 
 
 with her. 
 
 Ros. And, you say, you will have her when I 
 
 bring her 1 [To OnLASUo. 
 
 Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. 
 
 Ros. You say, you'U marry me, if I he willing 1 
 
 [To PlIEBE. 
 
 Fke. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
 
 Ros. Hut if you do refuse to marry me. 
 You'll give yourself to this most fiithful shepherd ! 
 
 Phe. So is the bargain. 
 
 Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe. if she will? 
 
 iTo Silvius. 
 
 SU. Though to have her and death were both 
 one thins:, 
 
 Ros. 1 have promised tomakeallthismattereven. 
 Keep you your word, duke, to give your daugh- 
 ter ;— 
 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter:— 
 Keep your word, Phebe, tliat you'll marry me; 
 Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd : — 
 Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her, 
 If she refuse me:— and from hence I go. 
 To make these doubts all even. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind «i7rf Celia. 
 
 Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd-boy 
 Some lively touches of my daughters favor. 
 
 Orl. Wy lord, the first time that I ever saw him, 
 Methought he was a brother to your daughter; 
 lUit my good lord, this boy is forest-born : 
 And halh lieen tutord in the rudiments 
 01' many desperate studies by his uncle. 
 Whom he reports to be a great magician 
 Obscured in the circle of this forest. 
 
 Enter Touchstone and AunnEV. 
 
 Jaq. There is, sure, another Hood toward, and 
 these couples are comins to the ark ! Here comes a 
 pair of very strange beasts, whicli in all tongues are 
 called fools ! 
 
 Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 
 
 Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome: This is 
 the motley-minded gentleman, that 1 have so often 
 met in the forest : he batli been a courtier, he swears. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 189 
 
 Tcuch. If any man doubt that, Ictliim put me to 
 mj- puraition. I have trod a measure;' I liave flat- 
 tered a lady ; I liave been politic with my friend, 
 smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three 
 tailors; I liave had four quarrels, and like to have 
 fought one. 
 Jaq. And how was that ta'en up ? 
 Tuiicli. 'Faith, we met and Ibimd the quarrel 
 was upon the seventh cause. 
 
 Jug. How seventh cause !— Good my lord, like 
 this fellow. 
 JJuke .S. I like him very well. 
 Touch. God 'ild you, sir: 1 desire you of the 
 like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the 
 country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear ; ac- 
 cording as marriage binds, and blood breaks : — A 
 poor virgin, sir, an ill-favored thing, sir, but mine 
 own; a poor humor of mine, sir„to take that that 
 no man else will : Rich honesty dwells like a miser, 
 sir, in a poor house; as your pearl, in your foul 
 oyster. 
 
 Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen- 
 tentious. 
 
 Touch. .According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such 
 dulcet diseases. 
 
 Jag. But, for the seventh cause; how did you 
 find the quarrel on the seventh cause ? 
 
 Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed; — Bear 
 your body more seeming, Audrey: — as thus, sir, 
 1 did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; 
 he sent me word, if I said his heard was not cut well, 
 lie was in the mind it was: This is called the Retort 
 courteous. If 1 sent him word again, it was not well 
 cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please 
 himself: This is called the Quip modest. If again, 
 it was not well cut, he disabled ray judgment : This 
 is call'd the Replii churlish. If again, it was not 
 well cut, he would answer, I spake not true : This 
 is call'd the 7ff;»-()0/'i'a/!o;i/. If again, it was not 
 well cut, lie would say, I lie; Tliis is called the 
 Countercheck qumrelsnme : and so to the Lie cir- 
 cumstantial, and the Lie direct. 
 
 Jag. .^nd how oft did you say, liis beard was not 
 well cut? 
 
 Touch. I durst go no further than the Lir cir- 
 amstantiul, nor lie durst not ftive me the Lie di- 
 rect ; and so we measured swords and parted. 
 
 Jaij. Can you nominate in order now the de- 
 grees of the liel 
 
 Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; 
 as you have books for good manners: I will name 
 you the degrees. The first, the Uetort courteous; 
 the second, the Quip modest; the third, the Reply 
 churlish: the fourth, the Reproof valiant; the filth, 
 the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie 
 with ciicumslancc; the seventh the Lie direct. 
 All these you may avoid but the lie direct; and 
 you may avoid that too, with an Jf. I knew wheij 
 seven justices could not take upa quarrel : but when 
 the )iarties were met themselves, one of them thought 
 but of an If, as If you saUl so, tlien I said so ; alid 
 they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your If is 
 the only peace maker; much virtue in If. 
 
 Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as 
 good at any thing, and yet a fool. 
 
 Itukf &'. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, 
 and under the presentation of that he shoots bis wit. 
 Enter Hymln, tending Rosalixd in woman's 
 clothes,- and Celia. 
 Still Music. 
 Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
 When earttily tilings made even 
 
 Atime together. 
 Good duke, recieve thy daughter, 
 Jlymen from heuvea hrought her, 
 
 Yea, hrought her hither ,- 
 TUatttinu mights! join her hand wilh his 
 Whose heart within her bosom is, 
 
 Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
 
 [To Duke S. 
 To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
 
 [To Orlando. 
 Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my 
 
 daughter. 
 Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosa- 
 lind. 
 Fhe. If sight and shape be true, 
 Why then, — my love, adieu ! 
 
 • A stately solema danof^ 
 
 Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he: — 
 ,.„ . , , , [To Duke S. 
 
 1 11 have no husband, if you be not he :— 
 
 [Tu Orlaxdo. 
 Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. 
 
 LroPuEEE. 
 Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion : 
 'Tis I must make conclusion 
 Of these most strange events: 
 Here's eight that must take hands, 
 To join in H> men's bands, 
 
 If truth holds true contents.' 
 You and you no cross shall part: 
 
 [To (/ULAXUO UHlJ ROSALISD. 
 
 You and you are heart in lieart : 
 
 [Tu iihi\£u and CEI.1X. 
 You [To Phebe.] to his love must accord, 
 Or have a woman to your lord : — 
 You and you are sure together, 
 
 [To Touchstone and Audrey. 
 As the winter to foul weather. 
 Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing. 
 Feed yourselves witii questioning ; 
 That reason wonder may diminish. 
 How thus we met, and tliese things finish. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Wedding is great Juno^s crount : 
 blessed bond oj' heard and bed/ 
 
 'Tis Hymen peop es every town ,■ 
 High wedlock then be honored : 
 Honor, high luinor and renown. 
 To Hymen, god if every town .' 
 
 Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me; 
 Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. 
 
 Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine ; 
 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 
 
 [To SiLVIUS. 
 
 Enter }\a.ms de Boib. 
 
 Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word, or 
 two ; 
 I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, 
 That bring these tidings to this fair assembly :— 
 Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day 
 i\Ien of great worth resorted to this forest. 
 Address d a mighty power ! which were on foot. 
 In his own conduct, purposely to take 
 His brother here, and put him to the sword : 
 .\nd to the skirts of this wild wood he came; 
 VVIierc, meeting with an old religious man, 
 Alter some questions with him, was converted 
 Both from his enterprise, and from the world: 
 His crown bequeaihing to his banish'd brother, 
 And all their lands restord to them again 
 That were with him cxU'd : This to be true, 
 I do engage my life. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome, young man ; 
 
 Thou ofler'st fairly to thy brothers' wedd.ng: 
 To one, his lands withheld : and to the other, 
 A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
 First, in this forest, let us do those ends 
 That here were well begun, and well begot: 
 And aller, every of this happy number. 
 That have endur'd shrewd days and ninlits with us. 
 Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 
 According to the measure of their states. 
 Meantime, forget this new-falln dignity. 
 And tall into our rustic revelry :^ 
 Play, music; — and you hndes and bridegrooms all. 
 With measure lieap'd in joy, to the measures fall. 
 
 Jug. Sir, by your patience; ifl heard you rightlj', 
 The duke hath put on a religious life. 
 And thrown into neglect the pompous court? 
 Jaq. de B. He hath. 
 
 Jag. To him will I; out of these convertiles 
 There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. — 
 You to your former honor I bequeath ; 
 
 [To Puke S. 
 Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it; — 
 You [To OiiLAXiio.]' to a love, that your true faith 
 
 doth merit : — 
 You [To Oliver.] to your land, and love, and great 
 
 allies: — 
 You [To SiLvics.l to a long and well deserved 
 
 bed ; — 
 And you [To Touchstoxe.] to wrangling, for thy 
 loving voyage 
 
 * Unless truth fail of veracity. 
 
190 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act Y, 
 
 Is but lor two montiis victual'd : — So to your plea- 
 sures ; 
 I am for otiier than for dancing measures. 
 Duke a. Stay, Jaqucs, stay. 
 Jan- To see no pastime, I :— what you would 
 have 
 
 IJl stay to know at your aUaiulon d cave. {Exit* 
 Duke S'. Proceed, proceed; we will begin these 
 rites. 
 And we do trust they'll end in true delights. 
 
 [J dance. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the 
 epilogue : but it is no more unhandsome, than to 
 see tlie lord the prologue. If it be true, that good, 
 wine needs no hush, 'tis true, that a good play needs 
 no epilogue: Yet to good wine tliey do use good 
 bushes; and good plays prove the better by the 
 help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then 
 that am neither^ good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate 
 with you ill the behall of a good play ? I am not 
 furnished' like a beggar, therefore to beg will not 
 become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll 
 tegin with the women. I cnarge you, women, 
 
 for tlie love you bear to men, to like as much of 
 this play as pleases them : and so I charge you, O 
 men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive 
 by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that 
 between you and the woman, the play may please. 
 If I were a women, I would kiss as many of you 
 as had beards that pleased me, complexions that 
 liked me : « and Sreaths that I defied not ; and, I 
 am sure, as many as have good beards, or good 
 faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind oiler when 
 I make curtsy, bid me forewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 ■ « That 1 liked. 
 
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King of Fuaxck. 
 
 DrKE OF FLnitEN'CE. 
 
 Beutiiam, Cmnil <i/RousiIIon. 
 Lafev , UK old Lard. 
 Parollls, aful/owcr of Bertram, 
 Several ijuunif French Lords, thai serve with Ber- 
 tram in the Florentine War. 
 Steward, \ ^■j,i.(j,;;s jq //,f Countess of RousiUon. 
 Clown, J 
 
 A Page. 
 
 CousTESs OF EorsiLioN-, Mother to Bertram. 
 Helena, a Gentkii-ooian]irolected by IheCouniesa, 
 An old IViituw of VluniK-e. 
 Diana, Daughter to tlic Widoiv. 
 \ 10 LENTA, ljyg,v^^(),.j(j„^ Prienih to the Witloic. 
 Mariana, / 
 
 Lords attending on the Kinjr ; Officers, Soldiers, 
 d[c., French and Florentine 
 
 SCENE,— partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 SCENE I.— Rousillon. A room in tte Countess' 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Bertram, tli.e Countess of Rousillon, 
 
 Helena, and Lafeu, in mourning. 
 
 Countess. In delivering ray son from me, I bury 
 a second iiusband. 
 
 Bcr. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my 
 fatlier's death anew : but I must attend liismajesty's 
 command, to whom I am now in ward,* evermore 
 in suhjectiou, 
 
 if;/. You sliall find of the king a husband, ma- 
 dam; — you, sir, a father: He tliat so generally is 
 at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue 
 to you ; whose worthiness would stir it up where 
 it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such 
 abundance. 
 
 Count. What hope is there of his majesty's 
 tmendmentl 
 
 Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam ; 
 under whose practices he hath persecuted time with 
 hope ; and tiiids no other advantage in the process 
 but only the losing of hope by time. 
 
 Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, 
 (O, that A«/i .' how sad a passage 'tis!) whose skill 
 was almost as great as his honesty ; had it stretched 
 •o far, would have made nature immortal, and 
 death should have play for lack of work. 'Would 
 for the king's sake, he were living I I think, it 
 would be the death of the king's disease. 
 
 Laf. How called you the man you speak of, 
 madam 1 
 
 Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and 
 it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. 
 
 Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam ; the king 
 very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and niourn- 
 ingly ; he was skilful enough to have lived still, if 
 knowledge could be set up against mortality. 
 
 Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king lan- 
 guishes of? 
 
 Lrf. A fistula, my lord. 
 
 Ber. I heartl not of it before. 
 
 L^f. I would, it were not notorious. — Was this 
 gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ? 
 
 Count. His sole chdd, my lord; and bequeathed 
 to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her 
 good, that her education promises: her dispositions 
 slie inherits, which make fair gifts fairer ; tor where 
 an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, tliere 
 commendations go with pity, they are virtues and 
 traitors tno ; in her they are the better for their 
 simpleness: she derives her honesty, and achieves 
 her goodness. 
 
 Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her 
 tears. 
 
 Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season 
 » Undor his particular care, as my guardian. i 
 
 her praise in. Tlie remembrance of her father never 
 approaches her heart, but the tyrarniy of her sor- 
 rows takes all livehhood from her cheek. No more 
 of this, Helena, 'go to, no more ; lest it be rather 
 thought you atlect a sorrow, than to have. 
 
 Hel. I do atlect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. 
 
 Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the 
 dead, excessive grief the enemy to the livmg. 
 
 Count. If the hving be enemy to the giief, the 
 excess makes it soon mortal. 
 
 Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. 
 
 Laf. How understand we that 1 
 
 Count. Be thou blest, Bertram ! and succeed thy 
 father 
 In manners, as in shape ! thy blood, and virtue, 
 Contend for empire in thee ; and thy goodness 
 Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a few, 
 Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy 
 Rather in power, than use ; and keep thy friend 
 Under thy own life's key : be checkd for silence, 
 Rut never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, 
 That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, 
 Fall on thy head! Farewell. — My lord, 
 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, 
 .\dvise him. 
 
 Lnf. He cannot want the best 
 
 That shall attend his love. 
 
 Count. Heaven bless him !— Farewell, Bertram. 
 [Exit Countess, 
 
 Ber. The best wishes that can be forged in your 
 thoughts, [To Helena.] be servants to you ! Be 
 comlortalile to my mother, your mistress, and make 
 much of her. 
 
 Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : Y'ou must hold the 
 credit of your father. 
 
 \Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu 
 
 Hel. O, were that all ! — I think not on my father; 
 .\nd these great tears grace his remembrance more 
 Than those I shed for him. ^Vbat was he like ? 
 I have forgot him: my imagination 
 Carries no favor in it, but Bertram's, 
 I am undone ; there is no living, none, 
 If Hertram be away. It were all one, 
 That I should love a bright particular star. 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me: 
 In his bright radiance and collateral light 
 Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
 The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
 The hind that would be mated by the lion, 
 Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, 
 To see him every hour; to sit and draw 
 His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
 In our heart's table; heart, too capable 
 ( )f every line and tricks of his sweet favor :» 
 But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
 '\Vho comes h.ere? 
 
 Must sanctify his relics. 
 3 Peculiarity of feature. 
 
 191 
 
 3 Countenance. 
 
192 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Enter Pahollks. 
 One that goes with him : I love him for iiis sake *, 
 And yet I know him a notorious har. 
 Tliinli liim a si'cat way fool, solely a coward ; 
 Yet these hx'd evils sit so fit in hini. 
 That they lal<e place, when virtue's steely bones 
 Look bleatv in tlie cold wind; witlral, rulloftvve see 
 Cold wisdom waitinj^ on superfluous lolly. 
 
 Par. Save you, fair queen, 
 
 Htl. And you, mondrch. 
 
 Par. Ko. 
 
 Hel. And no. 
 
 Par. Are you meditating on virginity? 
 
 Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you ; 
 let me ask you a question : Man is enemy to vir- 
 ginity ; how may we barricado it against him f 
 
 Par. Keen liim out. 
 
 Hel. But lie assails; and our virginity, though 
 valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us 
 some warlike resistance. 
 
 Par. 'rii(»c is none; man, sitting down before 
 you, will undermine you, and blow you up. 
 
 Hel. Bless our poor viiginity from underminers. 
 and blowers up! — Is there no military policy, how 
 virgins iniiilit l>linv up men 1 
 
 Par. Vir:,'inily, being blown down, man will 
 quicklier lie blown up: marry, in blowing him 
 down again, with the breach yourselves made, you 
 lose your city. It is not politic in the common- 
 wealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of. 
 virginity is rational increase ; and there was never 
 virgin got, till virginity was first lost. That, you 
 were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, 
 by being once lost, may be ten times found: by 
 being ever kept, it is ever lost ; 'tis too cold a com- 
 panii>n;away with it. 
 
 Hel. I will sland fort a little, though therefore 
 I die a virgin. 
 
 Par There's little can be said in't; 'tis against 
 the rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir- 
 ginity, is to accuse your mothers: which is most 
 infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is 
 a virgin : virginity 'murders itself; and should be 
 burieB in highways, out of ail sanctified limit, as 
 a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity 
 breeds mites, much like a cheese ; consumes itself 
 to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own 
 stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, 
 made of self-love, which is the most inhibited « sin 
 in the canon. Keep it not : you cannot choose but 
 lose byt; Out with't: within ten years it will make 
 itself ten, which is a goodly increase : and the prin- 
 cipal itself not much the worse : Away with't. 
 
 Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her 
 own liking ? 
 
 Far. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that 
 ne'er it likes. ' I'is a commodity will lose the gloss 
 with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: otf 
 witii't, "while 'tis vendible: answer the time of re- 
 quest. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her 
 cap cut ot fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: 
 just like the brooch and to'othpick, which wear not 
 now : Your date ' is better in your pie and your 
 porridge, than in your cheek: And your virginity, 
 your old virginity, is like one of our French with- 
 ered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly: marry, 'tis a 
 withered pear ; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 
 'tis a withered pear; Will you any thing with it? 
 
 Hel. Not my virginity yet. 
 There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
 A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, 
 A phirnix, captain, and an enemy, 
 A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, 
 A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ; 
 His humble ambition, proud humility, 
 Hislarriug concotd, and Ins discord dulcet, 
 His'liiith, his sweet disaster; with a world 
 Of pretty, fond, adoptions Christendoms, 
 
 That lilinking lupid gossips. Now shall he 
 
 I know not what he shall ;— God send him well !— 
 The court's a learning place ; — and he is one 
 
 Par, What one, iTaitti'l 
 
 net. That I wish well.— 'Tis pity 
 
 Far. What's pity? 
 
 Htt. That wishing well had not a body in't, 
 Which might be felt : that we, the poorer born, 
 wiiose baser stars do shut us up in wishes. 
 Might with effects of them follow our friends, 
 
 4 Forbidden. 
 
 • A quibble on date, which mentis ngc, and candied fruit. 
 
 And show what we alone must think ; which never 
 Returns us thanks. 
 
 Enter a Page. 
 
 Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you, 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
 Par. Little Helen, farewell; If I can remember 
 thee, I will think of thee at court. 
 
 Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a 
 charitable star. 
 
 Par. Under Mars, I. 
 
 Het. I especially think under Mars. 
 
 Par. Why under Mars ? 
 
 Het. The wars have so kept you under, that you 
 must needs be born under Mars. 
 
 Par. When he was predominant. 
 
 Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. 
 
 Par. Why think you so ^ 
 
 Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. 
 
 Par. That's for advantage. 
 
 Het. So is running away, when fear proposes the 
 sal'cty; But the composition, that your valor and 
 fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I 
 like the wear well. 
 
 Par. I am so full of business, I cannot answer 
 thee acutely ; 1 will return perfect courtier; in the 
 which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, 
 so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and 
 understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else 
 thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine igno- 
 rance makes thee away; farewell. Wlien thou 
 hast leisure, say thy prayers ; when thou hast none, 
 remember thy friends ; get thee a good husband, 
 and use him as he uses thee: so farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Het. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie. 
 Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky 
 tiives us free scope; only, doth backward pull 
 Our slow designs, when we ourselves are tlull. 
 What power Is it, which mounts my love so high, 
 That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye] 
 Tlie mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
 To joinlike likes, and kiss like native things," 
 Impossible be strange attempts, to those 
 I hat weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose, 
 What hath been cannot be: Who ever strove 
 To show lier merit, that did miss her love 1 
 The king's disease — my project may deceive me, 
 But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. 
 
 [Exit. 
 SCENE II.— Paris. A Room in tlie King's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Ftourlsh of Corneln. Enter tlie Kijtg of FniNcn 
 
 with letters; Lords and ot lias attending. 
 
 King. The Florentines and Senoys ' are by the 
 ears; 
 Have fought with equal fortune, and continue 
 A braving war. 
 
 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. 
 
 Kin^, Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it 
 A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, 
 With caution, that the Florentine will move us 
 For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend 
 Prejudicates the business, and would seem 
 To have us make denial. 
 
 1 Lord. His love and wisdom, 
 A pprov'd so to your majesty, may plead 
 
 For amplest credence. 
 
 Kinix. He hath arm'd our answer. 
 
 And Florence is denied before he comes: 
 Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see 
 The Tuscan service, freely have they leave 
 "To stand on either part. 
 
 2 Lord. It may well serve 
 A nursery to our gentry, who are sick 
 
 For breathing and exploit. 
 
 King. What's he comes here % 
 
 Enter BKnTiiAM, Lafeu, cm! Pabolles. 
 
 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, 
 Young Bertram. 
 
 King. A'outh, thou hear'sl thy fatlier's free; 
 Frank nature, rather curious than in haste. 
 Hath well compos'd thee. Thy lather's moral parts 
 Mayst thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris. 
 
 Jiir. My thanks and duty are your inajesly's. 
 
 King. 1 would I had thatcorporiil soundness now 
 As when thy father, and myself in friendship 
 
 6 Things formed by nature for oiicb other. 
 
 1 The eitizens of the smidl republic of which Sienna 19 
 the capital. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS AVELL. 
 
 193 
 
 First try'd our soUitersliip! He di»1 look far 
 
 Into tl(t' service of the lime, and wns 
 
 Discipled of the bravest; he lasted lon°:; 
 
 But on us both did hajrgish a^e steal on, 
 
 And wore us out of act. It much repairs me 
 
 To talk of your ^nod father: In his youth 
 
 He had the wit, wh;ch I can well observe 
 
 To-day in ouryounii; lords; but they may jest 
 
 Till their own scorn" return to them unnoted, 
 
 Ere they can hide their levity in honor. 
 
 So like a courtier, contemiit nor bitterness 
 
 Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, 
 
 His equal had awak'd them; and his honor, 
 
 Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
 
 Exception bid iiiin speak, and, at this time, 
 
 Histoni^ue obey'd his hand : Who were below him 
 
 He Used as creatures of another place ; 
 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
 
 Mflkiug them proud of his humility. 
 
 In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man 
 
 Might be a copy to these younicer times ; 
 
 Which, followd well, would demonstrate them now 
 
 But 2;ocrs backward. 
 
 Ber. His good remembrance, sir, 
 
 Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb; 
 So in approuf* hves not his epitaph, 
 As in your royal speech. 
 
 King. 'Would, I werp with him! He would 
 always say, 
 (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words 
 He scatler'd not in ears, but grained them. 
 To grow there, and to bear,)— I,p/ me not live 
 Thus his good melancholy oft began. 
 On the catastrophe and heel of pastime. 
 When it was out. — let me not live, quoth he, 
 Af/er mj/jUiffic lacks oil, to be the snttjf 
 Of younger spirif.t, ivfwse apprehensive senses . 
 All but netv t/ih/gs disdain ,- whose judgments are 
 Mere fathers of their 'garments ; ivliose constancies 
 
 Expire bffiire ilieir fashions ; Jhis he wishd: 
 
 I, after him, do after him wish too, 
 Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, 
 I were dissolved from my hive, 
 To give some laborers room. 
 
 2 Lord. Yon are lovd, sir; 
 
 They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. 
 7vi/?^. I hi! a place. I know't. — How long is"t, count, 
 Since the physician at your father's died! 
 He was much fam"d. 
 
 Ber. Some six months since, my lord. 
 
 King. If he were living, I would try him yet; — 
 Lend me an arm ; — the rest have worn nie out 
 With several applications: nature and sickness 
 Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count ; 
 My son's no dearer. 
 
 Ber. ' Thank your majesty. 
 
 [Exeunt, flourish. 
 SCENE HI.— Rousillon. A Room in (he Coun- 
 tess's Palace. 
 
 Enter Countkss, Steward, and Clown. 
 
 Count. I will now hear: what say you of this 
 gentlewoman l 
 
 Stew. Madam, the care I Iiave had to even your 
 content,^ 1 wish might be Ibunil in tlie calendar of 
 my past endeavors; for then we wound our mo- 
 desty, and make foul the clearness of our deserv- 
 ings, when of ourselves we publish them. 
 
 Count. What does this knave here? Getyougone, 
 sirrah : The comjjiainis, I liave heard of you, I do 
 not all believe: tis my slowness, that I do not: 
 for, I know you lack not folly to commit them, and 
 have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, 1 am a 
 poor fellow. 
 
 Count. Well, sir. 
 
 Clo. No. madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; 
 though many of the rich are damned : But, if I may 
 have your ladyship's irood will to go to the world,' 
 Isbcl the woman and I will do as we may. 
 
 Count. Wilt thou needs be a bccgar f 
 
 Clo. I do beg your nond will in this case. 
 
 Count. Tn what easel 
 
 Clo. In IsbeTs case, and mine own. Service is 
 no heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the 
 blessing of God. till 1 Jia\e issue of my body; for, 
 Ihey say, beams' are blessings. 
 
 • Approbation. '•■ Tn art up to your desires. 
 
 I To he marrkd. ^ Children. 
 
 13 
 
 Count. Tell me the reason why thou wdt marry. 
 
 Cl'i. My pnur body, madam, reqiiires it : 1 am 
 driven on by the Uesh ; and he must needs go, that 
 the devil drives. 
 
 Count. Is this alt your worship's reason 1 
 
 Clo. Kaith, madam, I have wther holy reasons, 
 such as they are. 
 
 Count. May the (vorld know them f 
 
 Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature; 
 as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I 
 do marry, that I may repent. 
 
 Count* Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked- 
 ness. 
 
 Clo. T am out of friends, madam; and I hope to 
 have friends fnr my wife s sake. 
 
 Cnint. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. 
 
 Clo. You are shallow, madam ; e'en great friends; 
 for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am 
 a-weary of. He, that ears' my land, spares my 
 team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If 1 be 
 his cuckold, he's my drudge: He, that comlorts 
 my wile, is the cherisher of my flesh end blood; 
 he, that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my 
 flesh and blood ; he, that loves my flesh and blood, 
 is my lYieiid: ergo,* he that kisses my wife, is my 
 friend, if man could be contented to be what they 
 are, there were no fear in marriage; for young 
 Charbon tlie puritan, and old Poysam the papist, 
 howso'ecr their hearts are several in religion, their 
 heads are both one, they may joU horns together, 
 like any deer i' the herd. 
 
 Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and 
 cahnnmnus knave ? 
 Clo. A prophet I, madam ; and 1 speak the truth 
 
 the next way:* 
 
 For 1 tlie ballad will repeat j 
 
 Which men full true shall find ; 
 Your marriage comes by destiny^ 
 Ymir cuckoo sings by kind. 
 Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you 
 more anon. 
 
 Stew. May it please you, madam. tJiat he bia 
 Helen come to you; of her I am to speak. 
 
 Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would 
 speak with her; Helen I mean. 
 Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she. 
 
 1 Singing 
 ll'hu the Grecians sacked Troy '/ 
 Fond done* donefnnd, 
 
 IVas this King 'Priam's Joy ? 
 With that she sighed as she stood, 
 M'ith thai she sighed as she stoody 
 
 And gave this sentence then ; 
 Among nine bad if one be good, 
 Anunig nine bad if one be good, 
 There^s yet one good in ten. 
 
 Count. What, one good in ten 7 you corrupt the 
 song, sirrah. 
 
 Clo. One good woman in ten, Madam; which is 
 a purifying o' the song: 'Would God serve the 
 world so all the year] we'd find no fault with the 
 tythe-woman, if I were the person: One in ten, 
 quoth a' ! an we might have a good woman born 
 but every blazing star, or at an carthtiuake, 'twould 
 mend the lottery well; a man may draw his heart 
 out ere he pluck one. 
 
 Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I 
 command you 1 
 
 Clo, That man should be at woman s command, 
 and yet no hurt done!— Though honesty be no 
 puritan. y<'t it will do no hurt; it will wear the 
 surplice of Iiumillty over the black gown of a big 
 jieart.— I am ^uing, forsooth : the business is for 
 Helen to comehither. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Count. Well, now. 
 
 Sleu: I know, madam, you love your gentle- 
 woman entirely. , , , 
 
 Count. Indeed. I do; her father bequeathed her 
 tome; and she herself, without other advantage, 
 may lawfully make title to as much love as she 
 finds: there "is more owing her, than is paid; and 
 more sliall be paid her, than she'll demand. 
 
 Slew. Madam, I was very late more near lier 
 than, 1 think, she wished me: alone she was, and 
 did conununicate to herself, her own words to her 
 own ears; she thought, 1 dare vow for her, they 
 
 3 I'Inughs. 
 « Then-fore. 
 
 B The nearest way. 
 
 e PooUsLly done. 
 
1S4 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was. 
 she loved your son :^ Fortune, she said, was no 
 goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their 
 two estates; Love, no god. that would not extend 
 his might, only where quahties were level : Diana, 
 no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight 
 to bt* surprised, without rescue, in the first assault, 
 or ransom afterwards: Tliis siie delivered in the 
 most bitter touch of sorrow. that cer I heard virgin 
 exclaim in : which I held my duty, speedily lo 
 acquaint you withal ; sithence."' in the loss that may 
 happen, it concerns you something to know it. 
 
 Counf. Vou have discharired this honestly : keep 
 it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of 
 this before, which himg so tottering in the balance, 
 that I could neither believe, nor inisdoubt : Tray 
 you, leave me; stall this in your bosom, and I 
 thank you for your honest care: I will speak with 
 you further anon. [Exit Steward. 
 
 Enter Hklf-xa. 
 
 Counf. V.ven so it was with me, when 1 was young; 
 If we are nature's, these are ours : tins thorn 
 Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; 
 
 Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; 
 It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 
 Wlicre love's strong passion is impressed in youth: 
 By our remembrances of days foregone, 
 Sucli were our faults: — or then we thought them 
 
 none. 
 Her ej'e is sick on't ; I observe her now. 
 
 Hit. Wliat is your pleasure, madam 1 
 
 Count. You know, Helen, 
 
 I am a mother to you. 
 
 Hel. Mine honorable mistress. 
 
 Count. Nay a mother ; 
 
 Why not a mother ? When I said, a mother, 
 Mct'hnu^ht you .saw a serpent! What's in mother, 
 That you start at it] I say, I am your mother; 
 And put you in the catalogue of those 
 That were enwomhed mine: 'Tis often seen, 
 Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds 
 A native slip to us from foreign seeds : 
 You ne'er oppressd me with a mother's groan 
 Yet I express to you a mother's care: 
 God's mercy, maiden ! does it curd thy blood. 
 To say I am thy mother '! What's the matter, 
 Tiiat this distemperd messenger of wet, 
 Ttie many color'd Ins, rounds thine eye ] 
 Why ! that you are my daughter? 
 
 licU That I am not. 
 
 Count. I say, I am your mother. 
 
 Jlel. Pardon, madam; 
 
 The count Rousillon cannot be my brother : 
 I aui from humble, he from honord name ; 
 No note upon my parents, his all noble: 
 My master, my dear lord lie is; and I 
 His servant live, and will his vassal die : 
 He must not be my brotlicr. 
 
 Count. Nor I your mother? 
 
 llel. You are my mother, madam; 'Would you 
 were 
 -^So that my lord, your son. were not my brother,} 
 Indeed.my mother!— or were you both our motliers, 
 I care no more for,^ than I do for heaven, 
 Ko 1 were not his sister: Cant no other, 
 IJut I, your daughter, he must be my brother ? 
 
 Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter, 
 in-law ; 
 God sliicid, you mean it not ! daughter, and mother 
 So strive" upon your pulse: What, pale again ? 
 My fear hath catcb'd your fondness: Now 1 see 
 The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
 Y'our salt tears' head.' Now to all sense 'tis gross, 
 Y'ou love my son ; invention is asham'd, 
 Against the proclamation of thy passion, 
 To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; 
 But tell me then, 'tis so;— for, look, thy cheeks 
 Confess it, one to the other; and thine eyes 
 Sec it so grossly sliown m thy beliaviors, 
 That in their kind they speak it; only sin 
 And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, 
 That truth should be suspected : Speak, is*tso7 
 Hit be so, you have wound a goouly clue ; 
 If it be not, forsweart: howeer, I charge thee, 
 
 1 Since. " i. e. I care as mucli for: I wish it equally. 
 
 • Contend. i The suurcc, tUu cause of your grief. 
 
 As heaven shall work in me for .thine avail, 
 To tell me truly. 
 
 Hel. Good madam, pardon me ! 
 
 Count. Do you love my son ? 
 
 }Iel. Your pardon noble mistress ! 
 
 Count. Love, you my son ' 
 
 J/t/. Do not you love him, madam 1 
 
 Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, 
 Wliercof the world takes note : come, come, disclose 
 The state of your ani?ction ; for your passions 
 Have to the lull approach'd. 
 
 Hel. ' Then I confess. 
 
 Bore on my knee, before high heaven and you, 
 That before you, and next unto liigh heaven, 
 I love your son : — 
 
 My friends were poor, but honest; so"s my love. 
 Be not oilended: for it hurts not hira, 
 That he is lov'd of me : I follow him not 
 By any token of presumptuous suit; 
 Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him , 
 Yet never know how that desert should be. 
 I know I love in vain, strive against hope; 
 Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve, 
 I still pour in the waters of my love, 
 And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like, 
 Heligious in mine error, I adore 
 The sun, that looks upon his worshipper. 
 But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 
 Let not your hate encountirr with my love, 
 For loving where you do : but. if yourself, 
 Whose aged honor cites a virtuous youth, 
 Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, 
 Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian 
 Was both herself and love; O then, give pity 
 To her, whose state is such it cannot choose 
 But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ; 
 That seeks not to find that her search implies. 
 But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. 
 
 Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, 
 To go to Paris'! 
 
 Hel. Madam, I had. 
 
 C<ntnf. Wherefore? tell true. 
 
 Hel. I will tell true; by grace itself, I swear. 
 You know, my father lelt me some prescriptions 
 Of rare and prov'd eflects, such as his reading. 
 And manifest experience, hod collected 
 For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me 
 In lieedfullcst reservation to bestow them, 
 As notes, whose faculties inclusive were 
 More than they were in note :^ amongst the rest, 
 There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, 
 To cure the desperate languishes, whereof 
 The king is render'd lost. 
 
 Counf. This was your motive 
 
 For Paris, was it? speak. 
 
 Hel. M\ 'ord, your son, made me -to think of 
 'J. is; 
 F>lsc Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 
 Had. from the conversation of my thoughts, 
 Haply, been absent then. 
 
 Counf. But think you, Helen, 
 
 If you should tender your supposed aid, 
 He would receive ill He and his physicians 
 Are of a mind ; he, that they cannot lielp him : 
 They, that they cannot help : How shall they credit 
 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 
 Kmbowclld of their doctrine,' have left off 
 The danger to itself! 
 
 Hel. There's something hints 
 
 More than my father's skill, which was tiie greatest 
 Of his protession, that his good receipt 
 Shall, lor my legacy, be sanctified 
 By the luckiest stars in heaven : and, would your 
 
 honor 
 But give me leave to try success, I'd venture 
 The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure, 
 By such a day aiid hour. 
 
 Count. Dost thou believe 't ? 
 
 Hel. Ay. madam, knowingly. 
 
 Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, 
 and love, 
 Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings 
 i'o those of mine in court; Fll stay afhome, 
 And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: 
 Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, 
 What 1 can help thee lo, thou shalt not miss. 
 
 I Exeunt* 
 « Appearance. « Exhaust':-.! of their ekiU. 
 
Act II. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT EXDS WELL. 
 
 195 
 
 ACT II, 
 
 SCEME I.— Paris, A room in ike Kind's Palace. 
 
 Fii/'irUk. EnferKisa,iri/k young LctAs laki-if( 
 leave for/he Florentine warf Bertham, Paiiol- 
 LKS, and Attendants. 
 
 King. Farewell, younj lord, these warlike prin- 
 ciples 
 
 Do not throw from you : — and you, my lord, fare- 
 well :— 
 
 Share the ndviee betwixt you ; if both sain all, 
 
 The iiift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd. 
 
 And IS ennu^^h for both. 
 
 1 Lorit. It is our hope, sir, 
 After well-enterd soldiers, to return 
 
 And find your grace in health. 
 
 King. No, no. it cannot be ; and yet my heart 
 Will not confers he owes the malady 
 That doth my life hesieice. Farewell, young lords; 
 Whether I live or die, be you the sons 
 Of worthy Frenchmen : let higher Italy 
 (Those bated, that inherit but the fall 
 Of the last monarchy «) see, that you come 
 Not to woo honor, but to wed it ; when 
 The bravest questant > sbrinks. find what you seek. 
 That fame mav cry you loud : I say. farewell. 
 
 2 Lorl. Health, at your bidding, serve your 
 
 majesty ! 
 King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; 
 They say. our French lack language to deny, 
 If they demand: I)eware of being captives, 
 Before you serve.* 
 Bo/k. Our hearts receive your warnings. 
 
 King. Farewell. — Come hither to me. 
 
 I 7'Af K I KG retires In a con eh. 
 
 1 Lnril. O my sweet lord, that you will stay be- 
 
 hind us! 
 Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark 
 
 2 Lorih O. "tis brave wars. 
 Par. Most admirable : I have seen those wars. 
 Ber. i am commanded here, and kept a coil ' 
 
 with 
 
 Too young, and the next year, and 'tis loo early. 
 Par. An thy mind staiid to it, boy, steal away 
 
 braveU'. 
 Ber. I shall stay here the firehorse to a smock. 
 Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry. 
 Till honor be bought up, and no sword worn. 
 But one to dance with ; lly heaven. FlI steal away. 
 
 1 Lord. There's honor in the theft. 
 
 Par. Commit it, count. 
 
 2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so farewell. 
 Ber. I grow to you, and our parting Is a tortured 
 
 body. 
 
 1 Lord. Farewell, captain, 
 
 2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles! 
 
 Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours arc kin. 
 Good sparks and lustrous, a word, ^ood metals: — 
 You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one 
 captain Spurio. with his cicatrice, an emblem of war 
 here on his sinister cheek ; it was this very sword 
 entrenchd it : say to him, I live ; and observe his 
 reports for me. 
 
 2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. 
 
 Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! {Exeunt 
 Lords.) What will you do? 
 
 B:r. Stay: the king [Seeing him rUe. 
 
 Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble 
 lords; you have restrained yourself within the list 
 of too cold an adieu; be more expressive to them; 
 for they wear themselves in the cap of the time : • 
 there, do muster true gait,> eat, speak, and move, 
 under the intluence of the most received star; and 
 though the devil led the measure,' such are to be 
 followed: after them, and take a more dilated fare- 
 well. 
 
 Ber. And I will do so. 
 
 Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most 
 sinewy sword-men. 
 
 [Exeunt BEttTnAM and Paholles. 
 « I. e. The Koman empire. ' Seeker, enquirer. 
 
 9 Be not captives Iwfore you are soldiers. ^ In a bustle. 
 
 • They are the foremost in the fii-shion. 
 
 • Have the true and military step. 1 The dance. 
 
 Enter Lafef. 
 
 Laf. Pardon, my lord, [Kneeling.] for me and 
 for my tidings. 
 
 King. I'll fee thee to stand up. 
 
 Lrff. Then here's a man 
 
 Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you 
 Had kneel'd. my lord, to ask me mercy ; and 
 That, at my bidding, you could so stand up. 
 
 King. 1 would I had; sol had broke thy pate 
 .\nd ask'd thee mercy for't. 
 
 7,7/'. Goodf.iith, across :« 
 
 But, "my good lord, 'tis thus ; Will you be cur'd 
 Of your infirmity ? 
 
 King. No. 
 
 Ldf. n. will you eat 
 
 No g'rapes, my royal fox ! yes, but you will, 
 My noble grapes, an if my royal fox 
 Could reach them : I have seen a medicine, 
 That's able to breathe life into a stone: 
 Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary,' 
 With sprightly fire and motion : whose simple touch 
 Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay. 
 To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand, 
 And write to her a love-hne. 
 
 King. What her is this 7 
 
 i,(//. Why, doctor she: My lord, there's one ar- 
 riv'd. 
 If you will see her, — now, by my faith and honor, 
 If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
 In this my light deliverdnce, I have spoke 
 With one, that in her sex, her years, profession. 
 Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more 
 Than I dare blame my weakness : W^ill you see her, 
 (For that is her demand.) and know her business'! 
 That done, laugh well at me. 
 
 King. Now, good Lafeu, 
 
 Bring in the admiration; that wo with thee 
 May spend our wonder too, or take olT thme, 
 By wiiiidcring how thou look'st it. 
 
 Lif. Nay 1,11 fit you, 
 
 And" not he all day neither. ["Exit Lafeu 
 
 King. Thus he his special nothmg ever pro- 
 logues. 
 Re-enter Lafec with Helesa. 
 
 Laf. Nay, come your ways. 
 
 Kin-s. This haste hath wings indeed, 
 
 Laf. Nav. come your ways; 
 This is his maiesty, say your mind to him : 
 .\ traitor you do look like : but such traitors 
 His majesty seldom fears : I am Cressid's nncle,' 
 That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us! 
 
 He'. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was 
 My father ; in what he did profess, well found. < 
 
 King. I knew him. 
 
 Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards 
 him ; 
 Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death 
 Many receipts he irave ine ; chictiy one, 
 Which, as the dearest issue of his practice. 
 And of his old experience the only darling, 
 He bade me store up. as a triple eye,' 
 Safer than mine own two. more dear; I have so : 
 And hearing vour high majesty is touch'd 
 With that malisrnant cau.se wherein the honor 
 Of my dear father's gill stands chief in power, 
 I come to tender it, and my appliance, 
 With all bound humbleness. 
 
 King. We thank you, maiden , 
 
 But may not be so credulous of cure, — 
 When our most learned doctors leave us; and 
 The couiregaled college have concluded 
 That laboring art can never ransom nature 
 From her inaidable estate.— I say we must not 
 So slain our judgment, or corrupt our hope. 
 To prostitute our past-cure malady 
 To empirics ; or to dissever so 
 Cur great self and our credit, to esteem 
 
 t Unskilfully; a phrase taken from the exercise at a 
 quintain. 
 
 * .\ kind of dance. * T am like Pandarus- 
 
 6 Well informed. • A third eye. 
 
196 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 A sonsclcss help, wiieii help past sense we deem, 
 
 liel. My duty then shall pay me ibr my pains : 
 1 will no more eiiforee mine oUice on you ; 
 Humbly entreatinf; from your royal thoughts 
 A modest one, to bear me back a^^ain. 
 
 Kiii^- 1 cannot give tlice less, to be call'd grateful : 
 Thou thought'st^'lo help me ; and such thanks 1 
 
 give, 
 J^ one'near death to those thai wish him live : 
 But what at full 1 know, thou knowst no part ; 
 1 knowing all my peril, thou no art. 
 
 He,'. What I can do, can do no hurl to try, 
 Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy ; 
 He that of greatest works is tinislier. 
 Oft does Ihem by the we;ikest minister: 
 So lioly writ in babes hatli judgment shown, 
 W'iien judges have been babes. Great Hoods have 
 
 Ilown 
 From simyjle sources; and great seas have dried. 
 When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
 Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
 Where most it promises; and oft it hits, 
 Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. 
 
 King. 1 must not hear thee ; fare Uiee well, kind 
 maid ; 
 Tliy pains not used, must by thyself be paid : 
 Prorters, n'ot look, reap thanks lor their reward, 
 
 Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd : 
 It is not so with him that all things knows, 
 As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows : 
 But, most It IS prcsuiiiplion in us, when 
 The help of heaven we count the act of men. 
 Bear sir, to my endeavors give const-iit ; 
 Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
 I am not an imposter, that proclaim 
 iMyself against the level of mine aim ; 
 But know, I think, and think 1 know most sure, 
 Myart is not past power, nor you past cure. 
 
 King. Art thou so confident! V\ itliin what space 
 Hopst thou my cure 1 
 
 He'. 'ihe greatest grace lending grace, 
 
 Kre twice the horses oi the sun &hall bring 
 Their liery torcher his diurnal ring ; 
 Kre twice in murk and occidental damp 
 INIoist Hesperus hath quenclied his skepy lamp ; 
 Or four and twenty times the pilots glass 
 Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass; 
 What IS inlirm from the sound part shall ily, 
 Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. 
 
 King. Upon thy certainty and conhdence. 
 What dar St thou venture? 
 
 Hel. Tax of impudence, — 
 
 A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, — 
 Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name 
 Seard otherwise; ne worse of worst extended, 
 ' With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
 
 King. iMethinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth 
 sj^eak ; 
 His powerful sound, within an organ weak : 
 And what impossibility would slay 
 In common sense, sense saves another way. 
 Thy hfe is dear ; for all, that life can rate 
 Worth name of hfe, in thee hath estimate; 
 Yuuth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all 
 7'liat liappmcss and prune can happy call: 
 Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate 
 Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. 
 Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try: 
 That ministers thine own death, if 1 die. 
 
 Hel. If I break time, or Ihnch in property 
 Of what I f:>poke, unpitied let me die ; 
 And well deservd : Not Iielping, rieatli's my fee ; 
 But if 1 help, what do you promise mel 
 
 King. Make thy demand. 
 
 Hel. But will you make it even ? 
 
 King. Ay,by mysceptre,and my hopes of heaven. 
 
 Hel. Then shalt thou give me, with thy kingly 
 hand. 
 What husl)and in thy power I will command ; 
 Kxempted be from me the arrogance 
 To choose from forth the royal olood of France ; 
 My k)w and humble name to propagate 
 With any branch or image of thy state ; 
 But such a one, thy vassal, 'whom I Icnow 
 Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow 
 
 King. Uvre is my hand; the premises obscrv'd. 
 Thy will Ity my performance shall be servd; 
 So make the choice of tlhne own time; for 1, 
 Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely, 
 More should 1 question thee, and mure I must: 
 
 Though, more to know, could not be more to trust; 
 From w hence ihou cam si liovv tended on, — Butrest 
 Unquesliond welcome. and undoubted hlcst. — 
 tjive me some help here, Im ! — If thou proceed 
 As high as word, my deed shall match tiiy deed, 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE II.— Kousillon. A Rucm in ihe Coun- 
 tess' Palace. 
 
 £/7/er Countess and Clown. 
 
 Count. Come on. sir; T shaU now put you to 
 the highest of your breeding. 
 
 Clii. I will show myself highly fed and lowly 
 taught ; I know my business is but to the court. 
 
 Count. To the court ! why. what place make yon 
 special, wlicn you put oil that with such contempt'! 
 But to tlie court I 
 
 CUh Truly, madam, if God have lent a man 
 any manners, he may easly put it otTat court; lie 
 that cannot make a leg, put otFs cap, kiss his hand, 
 and say no'thing, has neither leg. hands, lip, nor 
 cap; and. indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, 
 were not for the court: but, for me, I have an an- 
 swer will serve all men. 
 
 Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that 
 fits all questions. 
 
 Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all but- 
 tocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-bultock, the 
 brawn-buttock, or any buttock. 
 
 Ciiitnf. Will youraiiswerservefittoallqnrstions? 
 
 C/i). As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an 
 atti>rnoy, as your French crown for your tafifata 
 punk, as Tid's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pan- 
 cake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as 
 the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his hnrn, as a 
 scolding queen to a wrangling knave, as tlie nun's 
 lip to the friar's moutii ; nay, as the pudding to 
 his skin. 
 
 Count. Have you. I say, an answer of such fit- 
 ness for all questions] 
 
 do. From below your duke, to beneath your con- 
 stable, it will fit any question. 
 
 Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous 
 size, that must fit all demands. 
 
 do. But a triple neitiier, in good faith, if the 
 learned sliould speak truth of it; and here it is, 
 all that belongs to't : Ask me, if 1 am a courtier, 
 it shall do you no harm to learn. 
 
 Count. To be young again, if we could: I will 
 he a fool in question, hoping to he the wiser by 
 your answer. I pray yow sir are you a couiticr 1 
 
 Clo. <) Lord, sir.—' There's a simple putting 
 oil; — more, more, a hundred of them. 
 
 Cinnii. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that 
 loves you. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir. —Thick, thick, spare not me. 
 
 Count. I think sir, >ou can eat none of this 
 homely meat, 
 
 CU\ O Lord, sir,— Nay. put me to't, I warrant you. 
 
 Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as 1 think. 
 
 Clo/0 Lord, sir, — Spare not me. 
 
 Coun/. Do you cry. o Lord, sir, at your whip- 
 phig, and spare iiot mc? Indeed, your O Lord, iir, 
 is very sequent to your whipping; )i)U would an- 
 swer very well to a whipping, if you were but 
 bound (ot. 
 
 CUi. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my — 
 O Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not 
 serve ever. 
 
 Count. I play the noble housew^ife with the time 
 to entertain it so merrily with a fool. 
 
 Clo. Lord,sir,—\\ by. tliere't serves wtII again. 
 
 Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give Helen 
 this, 
 And urge her to a prr.sent answer back: 
 Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son ; 
 This is not much. 
 
 Clo. Not much commendation to them. 
 
 Count. Not juuch employment for you: You 
 understand me 1 
 
 Clo. Most iruitfully ; 1 am tlieve before my logs. 
 
 Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally 
 
 SCENE III.— Paris, A Room in tfie king's Palace 
 
 Enttr Beutuam, Lafku, a?id Pauolle3. 
 
 L'if. They say, miracles are past ; and we havo 
 our philosophical persons to make modern' and 
 8 OrJiuary. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT END'S WELL. 
 
 197 
 
 familiar thinsjs superiialural and causeless. Hence 
 is it, that we maKe trilles of terrors; ensconcing 
 ourselves into sceniin!? knowledge when we should 
 suhuiit ourselves to an unknown fear. 
 
 Pur. Why, 'tis the rarest arj;innent of wonder, 
 that hatli shot out in our latter tunes. 
 
 Ber. And so 'tis. 
 
 Lof. To be relinquished of the artists, 
 
 Par. So I say; hoth of Galen and t'aracelsus. 
 
 Lnf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows, — 
 
 Pur. Kii;ht, so I say. 
 
 Laf. That ga\ e him out incurable, — 
 
 Par. Why.lhere 'tis; so say 1 too. 
 
 Lfif. Not to be helped, — 
 
 Pur. Rislit : as 'twere a man assured of an — 
 
 Ltif. Uncertain life, anil sure death. 
 
 Par. Just, you say well : so would 1 have said. 
 
 Lf.^\ 1 may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. 
 
 Purr It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, 
 you shall read it in What do you call there ? — 
 
 Lnf. .\ showing of a heavenly ellect in an earthly 
 actor. 
 
 Pur. That's it I would have said; the very same. 
 
 if//. Why, your dolphin" is not lustier : 'fore me, 
 I speak in respect 
 
 Par. Nay, 'tis stran£;e, 'tis very strange, that is 
 the brief and the tedious of it ; and he is of a most 
 facinorousi spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be 
 tlie 
 
 Laf. Very hand of heaven. 
 
 Par. Ay, so 1 say. 
 
 Laf. In a most weak 
 
 Par. And debile minister, great power, preat 
 transcendence: which should,' indeed, give us a 
 further use to be made, than alone the recovery of 
 the king as to be — — 
 
 Laf. (iencrally thankful. 
 
 Enter KiXG, Hr.j,r.yx, and Attendants. 
 
 Par. I would have said it; you say well. Here 
 comes the king. 
 
 Laf. Lustick.'j as the Dutchman says: I'll like a 
 maid the better, whilst t have a tooth in my head: 
 Why, he's able to lead her a coranto. 
 
 Piir. Mart ilu Vinaigre! Is not this Helen? 
 
 Laf. 'Fore God, 1 think so. 
 
 King. Go, call before me all the lords in court. — 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side ; 
 And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense 
 Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive 
 Tlic confirmation of my promis'd gift, 
 Which but attends thy naming. 
 
 Enter several Lords. 
 
 Fair maid, send forth thine eye : this youthful parcel 
 
 Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, 
 
 fi'er whom both sovereign power and fatlier's voice 
 
 1 have to use : thy frank ele.-tion make ; 
 
 Thou hast power to choose.and they none to forsake. 
 
 Hd. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress 
 Fall, when love please !— marry, lo each, but one '. 
 
 Lnf. I'd give bay Curtal» and his furniture, 
 My inoutirno more were broken than these boys', 
 Ai'nl writ as little beard. 
 
 King. Peruse them, well : 
 
 Not one of those but had a noble father. 
 
 Hel. Gentlemen, 
 Heaven hath through me restor'ii the king to health. 
 
 AU' We understand it and thank heaven for you. 
 
 Hel. 1 am a simple maid ; and therein wealthiest. 
 
 That, I protest, 1 simply am a maid : 
 
 please it your majesty, 1 have done already : 
 The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 
 We i)hihk. I Ixat t liaa shoiildi't ctiausr \ but he refused, 
 Let tlie vtiile death sit on tfiij cheekfur ever; 
 IVe'll ne^erconte iticre again. 
 
 king. Make choice ; and see, 
 
 Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me. 
 
 He'. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I lly : 
 And toimperial Love, that god most high, 
 Oo my signs stream. — Sir, will you hear my suit ! 
 
 1 Lord. ,^nd grant it. 
 
 Hel. Thanks sir ; all the rest is mute. 
 
 Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw 
 ames-ace« for my life. 
 
 « Thn Paupliin. i ■Wicked. 
 
 « I.ustish is the Batch word fnr Uisty. cheerful. 
 
 8 A docked horse. * The lotwebt chance of the dice. 
 
 Hel. The honor sir, that flames in your fair eyes, 
 Before I speak, too threateningly replies : 
 Love make your fortunes twenty times above 
 Her that so wishes, and her humble lovel 
 
 2 Lord. No better, if you please. 
 
 ]{rt. My wish receive, 
 
 Which great love grant ! and so I take my leave. 
 
 L :f Do all they deny her 1 an tliey were sons 
 of mine. Id have them whipped ; or I would send 
 Ihem to the Turk, to make eunuchs of. 
 
 HjI. Be not afraid [To a Lord.) that I your hand 
 should take ; 
 III never do you wrong for your own sake: 
 I'lessing upoii your vows ! and in your bed, 
 Find fairer fortune, if you ever we'd ! 
 
 Laf. These hoy's arc boys of ice, they'll none 
 have' her : sure, they are bastards to the Enghsh ; 
 the French ne'er got them. 
 
 Hel. You are too young, too happy, and loo good, 
 To make yourself a son out of my blood. 
 
 4 Lard. Fair one, I think not so. 
 
 Lif. There's one erape yet. — I am sure, thy 
 father drank wine. — But if thou he'st not an ass. I 
 am a youlh of foutteen ; Ihavo known thee already. 
 
 Hel. I dare not say, I take you ; [To Beutham.! 
 but I give 
 Mo. and my service, ever whilst I live. 
 Into your guiding power, — This is the man. 
 
 King. Why then, young Bertram take her, she's 
 thy wife. 
 
 Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your 
 highness. 
 In such a business give me leave to use 
 The help of mine own eyes. 
 
 A'l"^. Know 'si thou not, Bertram, 
 
 What she has done for me'! 
 
 Ber. Yes, my good lord ; 
 
 But never hope to know why I should marry her. 
 
 King. Thou know'st she has raised me from my 
 sickly bed. 
 
 Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down 
 Must answer for your raising? I know her well ; 
 She had her breeding at my lather's charge: 
 A poor physician's daughter my wife ! — Disdain 
 Kaiher corrupt me ever ! 
 
 King. 'Tis only titlei thou disdain' st in her, the 
 which 
 I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, 
 (If color, weight, and he.at, pour'd all together. 
 Would quite confound distinction, yet stand oir 
 In dilferences so mighty : If she be 
 .\ll that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st, 
 A poor physician's daughter.) thou dishk'st, 
 t;f virtue foe the name: but do not so: 
 From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
 The place is dignified by the doer's deed : 
 Where great additions* swell, and virtue none, 
 It is a driipsied honor: good alone 
 Is good; without a name, vileness is so: 
 The property by wliat it is should go. 
 Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; 
 In these to nature she's immediate heir ; 
 .And these breed honor: that is honor's scom^ 
 Which cliallengcs iLself as honor's born. 
 And is not like the sire: Honors best thrive. 
 When ri.ther from our acts we them derive 
 Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave, 
 Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave, 
 \ lying trophy, and as oft is dumb. 
 Where dust, and damned oblivion is the tomb 
 ( If honor'd bones indeed. What should be said ? 
 If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
 1 can create the rest : virtue, and she. 
 Is her own dower ; honor and wealth from me. 
 Brr. I cannot love her, nor will strive lo do't. 
 
 King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st 
 strive to choose 
 
 Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I'm 
 glad ; 
 Let the rest go. 
 
 King. My honor's at the slake; which to defeat, 
 1 must produce my power: Here, take her hand. 
 Proud, scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; 
 That dost in vile riiisprision shackle up 
 My love and her desert ; that cans't not dream. 
 We, poising us in her defective scale, 
 Shall weiiih thee to the beam : that wilt not know 
 It IS in us to plant thine honor, where 
 
 11. c. The Kaut of title. « Titles. 
 
198 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 We please to have it grow : Check thy contempt; 
 
 Obey oar will, wliieh travails in thy ^ood : 
 
 Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
 
 Do thine own fortunes that obedient right 
 
 Which both tliy duty owes, and our power claims ; 
 
 Or I will throw thee from my care for ever. 
 
 Into the staggers, and the careless lapse 
 
 Of youth and ignorance ; both my revenge and bate, 
 
 Loosing upon thee in the name iif justice, 
 
 Wdliout all terms of pity: .Speak ; thine answer. 
 
 Ber. I'ardon, my gracious lord^ for 1 submit 
 ?.ly f.uicy to your eyes: When I consider. 
 What great creation, and what dole of honor. 
 Lies where you bid it, I find, that she, which late 
 Was iu my nobler thoughts most base, is now 
 The praised of the king ; who, so euiioblcd, 
 Is, as 'twere, born so. 
 
 King. Take her by the hand. 
 
 And tell her, she is thine : to whom I promise 
 A counterpoise; if not to thy estate, 
 A balance more replete. 
 
 Bet: I take her hand. 
 
 King. Good fortune, and the favor of the king. 
 Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony 
 Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief. 
 And be performed to-ni/^ht : the solemn feast 
 Shall more attend ujiou the coining space, 
 Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, 
 Tby love's to me religious ; else, does err. 
 
 [Exeunt Kinc, Beutka.m, Helexa, Lords, 
 and Al/enilunt.t. 
 
 Laf. Bo you hear, monsieur ? a word with you. 
 
 Pur. Your pleasure, sir 1 
 
 Luf. Your lord and master did well to make liis 
 recantation. 
 
 Pur. Recantation ? — my lord ? — my master 1 
 
 Luf. Ay ; Is it not a language, I speak ] 
 
 Pur. A most harsh one ; and not to be understood 
 Without bloody succeeding. My master ' 
 
 Jjij. .\re you companion to the count Rousillon? 
 
 Par. Toanycount: toall counts; to what is man. 
 
 Luf. To what IS count's man; count's master is 
 Of another style. 
 
 Par. You are two old, sir; let it satisfy you, you 
 (Ire too old. 
 
 Luf. 1 must teil thee, sirrali, I write man ; to 
 which title age cannot bring thee. 
 
 Pur. \Vhat I dare too well do, I dare not do. 
 
 Luf. I did think thee for two ordinaries.'^ to be 
 4 pretty wise fellow ; thou didst make tolerable vent 
 ofthytravel: it inightp.iss: yet the scans, and the 
 bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me 
 from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. 
 I have now found thee: when I lose thee again, 1 
 care not : yet art tliou good for nothing but taking 
 up; and that tliou art scarce worth. 
 
 Pur. iladst thou not the privilege of antiquity 
 upon thee, 
 
 Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest 
 thou hasten thy trial ; which it— Lord have mercy 
 on thee for a hen ! So my good window of lattice, 
 fare thee well : tliy casement I need not open, for 
 1 look through thee. Give me thy hand. 
 
 Pur. My ford, you give me most egregious in- 
 dignity. 
 
 Liif. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou artworthj' 
 ofit. 
 
 Par. T have not, my lord, deserved it. 
 
 [jiif. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I 
 will not bate thee a scruple. 
 
 Pur. Well, I shall be wiser. 
 
 Luf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to 
 pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st 
 bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find what 
 it is to be proud of thy bomlage. 1 have a desire to 
 hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my 
 knowledge; that I may say, in the default," 'le is a 
 man I know. 
 
 Pur. My lord, you do me most insupportable 
 vexation. 
 
 Lui'. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and 
 my poor doing eternal: fordoing 1 am past; as I 
 will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis- 
 grace oir me ; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord !— 
 Well, I must ho patient ; there is no fettering of 
 authority. I'll beat him by my hie, if I can meet 
 a i. e. Whilo I sat twice with thee at dinner, 
 a At a need. 
 
 him with any convenience, and he were double and 
 double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age. 
 than I would have of— I'll beat him, an if I could 
 but meet him again. 
 
 Re-enter Laff.u. 
 
 Laf, Sirrah, your lord and master's married, 
 there's news for you ; you have a new mistress. 
 
 Pur. I most nnfeignedly beseech your lordship 
 to make some reservation of your wrongs : He la 
 my good lord : whom I serve above is my master. 
 
 Luf. Who? God? 
 
 Pur. Ay, sir. 
 
 Laf. Thedevil it is, that's thy master.- ViThy dost 
 thou garter up thy arms o' this' fashion '! dost make 
 hose of thy sleeves! tlo other servants so? Thou 
 wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. 
 By mine honor, if I were but two liours younger, 
 I'd beat thee ; methinks, thou art a general olTence, 
 and every man should beat thee. 1 think, thou 
 wast created for men to breathe* themselves upon 
 thee. 
 
 Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my 
 lord. 
 
 Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for 
 picking a kernel out of a pomegranate ; you are a 
 vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more 
 saucy with lords, and honorable personages, than 
 the heraldry of your birth and virtue givesyou com- 
 mission. You are not worth another word, else 
 Id call you knave. I leave you. [Exit- 
 
 Enter BlinTIlAM. 
 
 Par. Good, very good; it is so then. — Good, 
 very good ; let it be concealed a while. 
 
 Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! 
 
 Pur. What is the. matter, sweet-lieart? 
 
 Btr. Although before the solemn priest I have 
 sworn, 
 I will not bed her. 
 
 Pur. What? what, sweet-heart? 
 
 B^r. O, my Parolles, they have married me :- 
 I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. 
 
 Par. France is a dog-hole, and yet no more merits 
 The tread of a man's foot: to the wars! 
 
 Ber. There's letters from my mother ; what the 
 import is, 
 I know not yet. 
 
 Par. Ay, that would be known: To the wars, 
 my boy, to the wars! 
 Ife wears his honor in a box unseen. 
 That luigs his kicksy-wicksy,» here at home; 
 Spending his manly marrow in her arms, 
 Which should sustain the bond and high curvet 
 Of Mars's fiery steed : To other regions ! 
 France is a stable ; we that dwell in't jades; 
 Therefore, to the war ! 
 
 Ber. It shall he so; I'll send her to my house. 
 Acquaint mv mother with my hate to her. 
 And wherefore I am ficd; write to the king 
 That which I durst not speak: Ills present gift , 
 Shall furnish me to those Italian fields. 
 Where noble fellows strike : War is no strife 
 To the dark house,s and the detested wife. 
 
 Pur. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure? 
 
 Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 
 I'll send her straight away : To-morrow 
 I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 
 
 Par. Why, these balls bound ; there's noise in it. 
 — 'Tis hard; 
 A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: 
 Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; i:n : 
 ■The king has done you wrong; but, hush ! 'tis so. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.—Anntlier Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Hf.lema und Clown. 
 
 Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well? 
 
 Clo. She is not well ; but yet she has her health: 
 she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks 
 be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'tho 
 world : but yet she is not well ! 
 
 Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that 
 she's not very well, , , , 
 
 CId. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two 
 things. 
 
 Hel. What two things? 
 
 4 Kxiircise. 
 
 » A ciiiit tt'tm for a wife. 
 
 • The house made gloomy by discontent. 
 
SCKNE v. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 199 
 
 C!o. One, l!):it she's not in heaven, wJiitlier God 
 send her quickly! tlic other, that she's in eartl), 
 from wlicnce God send her quickly ! 
 Enter Pauolles. 
 
 Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady ! 
 
 Hel. I hope, sir, 1 have your good will to have 
 mine own ^^ond fortunes. 
 
 Pfir. \ ou had uiy prayers to lead them on : and 
 to keep thein on, I'lave tlicin still.— 0, my knave ! 
 How does my old lady ? 
 
 Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her 
 money, I would she did as you say. 
 
 Par. Why, I say nothing. 
 
 Cln. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for many a 
 man's tongue shakes out his master's undoms : To 
 say notliing. to do nothing, to know nothint:,and to 
 have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; 
 whieli is within a very littFe of nothing. 
 
 Par. Away, thourt a knave. 
 
 Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave 
 thou art a knave : that is, before me thou art a 
 knave: this had been truth, sir. 
 
 Pur. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found 
 thee. 
 
 Cln. Did you find me in yourself, sir ? or were 
 you taught to find me ! The search, sir, was pro- 
 fitable; and much fool may you lind in you, even 
 to theworld'apleasure, and the increase of laughter. 
 
 Pur. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed. — 
 Madam, my lord will go away to-riight; 
 A very serious business calls on him. 
 The great prerogative and rite of love, 
 \Vhicli, as your due, time claims, he does acknow- 
 ledge; 
 But puts it off by a compell'd restraint; 
 Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with 
 
 sweets. 
 Which they distil now in the curbed time. 
 To make the coming hour o'erllow with joy, 
 And pleasure drown the brim. . 
 
 Hel. WhatVhis will else! 
 
 Put-. That youwill take your instant leave othe 
 king. 
 And make this haste as your own good proceeding, 
 StrcugtliiMid with what apology you think 
 May make it probable need.' 
 
 liel. What more commands he ? 
 
 Pur. That, having tliis obtain'd, you presently 
 Attend his further jileasure. 
 
 Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will. 
 
 Pur. t shall report it so. 
 
 Htl. I pray you.— Come, sirrah. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Another Room in the sumc. 
 Enter LiFKv and Beiitkam. 
 
 Lrtf. But 1 hope, your lordship thinks not him a 
 soldier. 
 
 Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof 
 
 Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. 
 
 Ber. And by other warranted testimony. 
 
 Laf. Then ray dial goes not true; I took this 
 lark for a bunting." 
 
 Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great 
 in knowledge, and accordingly valiant. 
 
 Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, 
 and transgressed against his valor ; and my state 
 that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in 
 my heart to repent. Here he comes ; I pray you 
 make us friends, I will pursue the amity. 
 
 Enter PAnoLLES. 
 Par. These things shall be done, sir. 
 
 [To BEnTRAM. 
 
 Laf. I'rav you, sir, who's his tailorf 
 
 Pur. Sir'! 
 
 Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is a 
 good workman, a very good tailor. 
 
 Ber. Is she gone to the king ! 
 
 [Aside to Pauolles. 
 
 Far. She is. 
 
 Ber. Will she away to-night? 
 
 1 A specious appcirauee of necessity. 
 
 ? The bunting nearly resembles the sky lark, but has 
 little or no song, wtiich gives estimatioa to the sky lark. 
 
 Par. As you'll have her. 
 
 Bf-r. I have wril my Ittlers.casketed my treasure, 
 Given order for our horses; and to-night, 
 When 1 should take possession of the bride, 
 And, ere I do begin, 
 
 Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter 
 end of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds, and 
 uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings 
 with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.— 
 God save you, captain ! 
 
 Ber. Is there any uukindness between niy lord 
 and you, monsieur? 
 
 J'ar. 1 know not how I have deserved to run 
 into my lord's displeasure. 
 
 Laf. Von ha\e made shift to run into't, boots 
 and spurs and all, like him that leaped into tho 
 custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than 
 sutler question for your residence. 
 
 Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. 
 
 Laf. And sliall do so ever, though 1 took him at 
 his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believo 
 this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut ; 
 the soul of this man is his clothes : tru.st him not in 
 matter of lieavy consequence: I have kept of them 
 tame, and know their natures. — Farewell, mon- 
 sieur! I have spoken better of you, than you have 
 or will deserve at my hand ; but we must do good 
 against evil. [Exit. 
 
 Far. An idle lord, I swear. 
 
 Ber. I think so. 
 
 Pur. Why, do you not know him? 
 
 Ber. Yes, I do 'know him well; and common 
 speech 
 Gives hiui a worthy pass. Here comes ray clog. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, 
 Kpoke with tlie king, and have procured Ins leave 
 For present parting ; only, he desires 
 Some private speech with you. 
 
 Ber. I shall obey his will. 
 
 You must not marvel, Helen, at my course. 
 Which holds not color with the time, nor does 
 The ministration and required oflice 
 On my particular: prepar'd 1 was not 
 For such a business ; therefore am I found 
 So much unsettled : This drives ine to entreat you, 
 That presently you take your way for home ; 
 And rather muse,» than ask, why I entreat you: 
 For my respects are better than they seem ; 
 And my appointments have in theni a need, 
 tireater than shows itself, at the first view. 
 To you that know them not. This to iny mother. 
 
 [Giving a Itltcr. 
 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you again ; so 
 I leave you to your wisdom. 
 
 Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, 
 
 But that I am your most obedient servant. 
 Ber. Come, come, no more of that. 
 Hel. And ever shall 
 
 With true observance seek to eke out that. 
 Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd 
 To equal my great fortune. 
 
 Ber. Let that go : 
 
 My haste is very great : Farewell ; hie home. 
 Hel. Pray, sir, jour pardon. 
 Ber. Well, what would you say 7 
 
 Uel. I am not worthy of the wealth 1 owe;' 
 Xor dare 1 say, 'tis mine ; and yet it is; 
 But, like a limerous thief, most fain would steal 
 What law does vouch mine own. 
 Brr. What would you liave? 
 
 Hel. Something; and scarce so much:— nothing, 
 indeed. — 
 I would not tell you what I would: my lord— 'faith, 
 
 yes ; — 
 Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss. 
 
 Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. 
 
 Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. 
 
 Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur? — 
 
 F'arewell. [Ejrit Helena. 
 
 Go thou toward home ; where I will never come, 
 
 Whilst I call shake my sword, or hear the drum; — 
 
 Away and for our flight. 
 
 Pur. Bravely, coragio! [ExeanU 
 
 » Wonder. ' Possess. 
 
200 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 ACT 111. 
 
 SCENE I.— Florence. A room in the Duke's 
 Palace. 
 
 Flimrish. Enter ihe'Dvs.Y. of Klouknce, altcnded,- 
 two French Lords, and others. 
 
 Duke. So that, from point to point, now have 
 you heard 
 The fundamental reasons of this war; 
 VVIiose great decision hath much blood let fortli, 
 And more thirsts after. 
 
 1 Luril. Holy seems the quarrel 
 Upon your grace's part: black and learful 
 
 On the upposer. 
 Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin 
 France 
 Would, in sn just a business, shut his bosom 
 AS'^i^st our borrowing prayers. 
 
 2 Lo7-d. Good my lord 
 The reasons of our state I cannot yield, 
 
 But liUe a common and an outward man, 
 , Tliat tile irreat figure of a councd frames 
 IJ\- scll-unahle motion; therefore dare not 
 Say wliat 1 think of it; since I have found 
 Myself in ray uncertain grounds to fail 
 As often as I guess'd. 
 
 Duke. Be it his pleasure. 
 
 2 Ltrd. Butlamsure, the youngerof ournature. 
 That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day. 
 Come here for physic. 
 
 Duke. Welcome shall they be ; 
 
 And all tlie honors, that can fly from us, 
 Shall on them settle. You know your places well; 
 When better tali, for your avails they fall: 
 To-morrow to the field. [Flouristi. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11. — Rousillon. A room in tlie Coun- 
 tess's Palace. 
 
 Filter CotJNTESs and Clown. 
 
 Oounl. It hath happened all as I would have had 
 it, save, that he comes not along with her. 
 
 Clt). By my troth, I take my young lord to be a 
 very melanciioly man. 
 
 Ciiunt. By what observance, I pray you 7 
 
 Clo. Why. he will look upon his boot, and sing ; 
 mend the ruff,» and sing ; ask questions, and sing; 
 pick his teeth, and sing ; I know a man that had 
 this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a 
 song. 
 
 Cinint. Let mo see what he writes, and when 
 lie means to come. I Opening a letter. 
 
 Clo. 1 have no mind to Isbel, since 1 was at 
 court : our old ling and our Isbels o'the country are 
 nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o'the 
 court; the brains of my Cupid's knocked out ; and 
 I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with 
 no stomach. 
 
 Count. What have we here ? 
 
 Cio. E'en that you have there. |jE,C!/. 
 
 Count. [Reads]/ linre nent you u dauiiliter-in- 
 Inw ■■ slie liatkrecnvered tlie kinf}:. and undone me. 
 Iluive ifolilcil her, not bedded tier; and sworn to 
 make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run 
 awai/: know it, before the report coaie. If there be 
 breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Mij duty to you. Your unfortunate son, 
 
 Bkhtham. 
 This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 
 To Ily the favors of so good a king; 
 To pluck his indignation on thy head, 
 liy the misprizing of a maid too viituous 
 For tlie contempt of empire. 
 
 Re-enter C1o\\ti. 
 
 Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, be- 
 tween two soldiers and my young lady. 
 
 Count. What is the mattcrt 
 
 Cfo, Nay, there is some eomf\)rt in the news, 
 some com tort; your son will not be killed so soon 
 lis 1 thought he would. 
 
 Count. Why should he lie killed 1. 
 
 a The foMiDg at the top of the boot. 
 
 Clo. So say I, madam, if lie run away, as I hear 
 he does; the danger is in standing to't ; that's the 
 loss of men, though it ho the getting of children. 
 Here they come, will tell you more : for my part, 
 I only hear, your son was run away, ' 
 
 [Exit Clown. 
 Enter Helesa and two Gentlemen. 
 
 1 Gent. Save you, good madam. 
 
 Bel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 
 
 2 Gent. Ho not say so. 
 
 Count. Think upon patience. — 'Pray you, gen- 
 tlemen, — 
 I have felt so m-any quirks of joy and grief, 
 That the first face of neither, on the start. 
 Can woman me unto't ; — Where is my son, I pray 
 you ? 
 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of 
 Florence ; 
 We met him thitherward ; from thence we came, 
 And after some dispatch in hand at court, 
 Thither we bend again. 
 Het. Look on this letter, madam; here's my 
 
 passport. 
 [Reads.] IVhen thou canst get the ring upon my 
 finger, wfiich never shall come off, and. show me a 
 child begidten of thy body, tliat lam father to, then 
 call me husband: but in suc/iathenlwriteane\eT, 
 This is a dreadful sentence. 
 Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, madam ; 
 And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains. 
 
 Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer; 
 If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine. 
 Thou robb'st me of a moiety : He was my son ; 
 But I do wash his name out of my blood. 
 And thou art all my child. — Towards Florence 
 is he 1 
 
 2 Gent. Ah, madam. 
 
 Count. And to be a soldier 1 
 
 2 Gent. Such is his noble purpose: and, believe't, 
 The duke will lay upon him all the honor, 
 Tliat good convenience claims. 
 
 Count. Return you thither I 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wings Df 
 speed, 
 //e/. [Reads.] Till I hare nv wife, 1 hare nothing 
 
 in France. 
 'Tis bitter. 
 
 Count. Find you that there 1 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply 
 which 
 His heart was not consenting to. 
 
 Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! 
 There's nothing here that is too good for him, 
 l!ut only she; and she deserves a lord, 
 That twenty such rude hoys might tend upon. 
 And call licr hourly, mistress. Who was with him 1 
 
 1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman 
 Which 1 have some time known. 
 
 Count. ParoUes, was't not I 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. 
 
 Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wicked- 
 ness. 
 My son corrupts a well-derived nature 
 VVith his inducement. 
 
 1 Gent. Indeed, good lady, 
 The fellow has a deal of that, too much. 
 Which holds him much to have. 
 
 Count. Vou are welcome, gentlemen, 
 I will entreat you, when you see my son, 
 To tell him, that his sword can never win 
 The honor that he loses: more I'll entreat you 
 Written to bear along. 
 
 2 drnt. We serve you, madam, 
 In that and all your worthiest alFairs. 
 
 Count. Not so, but as we change J ourcourfesies 
 Will you draw nearl 
 
 [Exeunt Cofntkss and Gentlemen 
 Hel. Till I have no luife.Ihavenolliing in France 
 
 Nothing in France, until he has no wife! 
 3 K-xcbaogo. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 20) 
 
 Thou slialt have none, Rousillon, none in France, 
 Then hast tliou all ai;ain. Poor lord ! ist 1 
 That chase thco from thy country, and expose 
 Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
 Of the non-spanns war .' and is it I 
 That drive tliee fruni the sportive court, where thou 
 Wast sliot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
 Of smoliy muskets? O you leaden messengers, 
 That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
 Kly with false aim; move the still-piercing air, 
 That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! 
 Whoever shoots at him, 1 set him there ; 
 Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
 I am the caitili; that do hold him to it ; 
 And though 1 kill him not, I am the cause 
 His death was so eilected : better 'twere 
 I met tlje ravin* lion when he roar'd 
 With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere 
 That all the miseries, which nature owes. 
 Were mine at once; No, come thou home, Rou- 
 sillon, 
 Whence honor but of danger wins a scar. 
 As oft it loses all ; 1 will be gone : 
 IWy being here it is that holds thee hence ; 
 Shall I stay here to do't ! no, no, although 
 The air of paradise did fan tlie house. 
 And angels officed all: 1 will he gone; 
 That pitiful rumor may report my (light. 
 To consulate thine ear. Come, night; end, day ! 
 For, with the dark, poor Uiicf, I'll steal away. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— Florence. Before the Duke's 
 palace. 
 
 F!otirii!i. Enter the Dcke of Fiobf.sci:, Ber- 
 tram, Lords, Otlicers, Soldiers, and others. 
 
 Duke. The general ofour horse thou art ; and we, 
 Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence 
 Upon tliy promising fortune. 
 
 Ber. Sir, it is 
 
 A charge too heavy for my strength ; but yet 
 We'll strive to bear it for your worthy saJce, 
 To the extreme edge of hazard. 
 
 Duke. Then go thou forth ; 
 
 And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm. 
 As thy auspicious mistress ! 
 
 Ber. This very day. 
 
 Great Mars, 1 put myself into thy file: 
 Make me but like my thoughts; and I shall prove 
 A lover of thy dium, hater of love. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Kousillon. A room in ilie 
 Comitess's Palace. 
 
 Enter Countess and Steward. 
 
 Count. Alas I and would you take the letter of her] 
 Might you not Know, she would do as she has done, 
 By sending me a letter ] Read it again. 
 
 Stew. I am saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone: 
 
 Auihilious love hiilhso in nif n^t-nded, 
 Thiit barefoot jdnd I the cold ground upon. 
 
 With siiinlcil rinv mi/ faults to luive amended. 
 Write, wrilr, lluilfroni the bloodij course of war, 
 
 Mil dearest master, your dear son may hie / 
 B/e.s's him at luinie in 'peace, whilst 1 from far, 
 
 libi name ivilh z'oUms fervor sanctify : 
 Hii taken lohors bid him me forgive ; 
 
 I, his disijilifalJuno,'' .fenl him fort li 
 From court I II friends, with camping foes to live, 
 
 lyiiere death ami danger dog the heels of worth; 
 He is* too good and fair frr death and me : 
 U^hom 1 inysetf embrate, to set him free. 
 
 Count. All, what sharp stings are in her mildest 
 
 words ! 
 
 Rinaldo, you did never lack advice' so much. 
 As letting her pass so ; had 1 spoke with her, 
 I could have well diverted her intents, 
 Which thus she hath prevented. 
 
 Stev. Pardon me, madam : 
 
 If I had given you this at over night. 
 She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet she writes. 
 Pursuit would be in vain. 
 
 Count. What angel shall 
 
 Bless this unworthy husband ! he cannot thrive. 
 Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear. 
 And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath 
 Ofgreatest justice,— Write, write, Rinaldo, 
 
 * Ravenous. « Alluding to the etory of Uerctllea. 
 e Diflcretioa or thought- 
 
 To this unworthy husband of his wife; 
 Let every word weigh heavy on her worth. 
 That ho dues weigh too light: my greatest griel^ 
 Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. 
 Dispatch the most convenient messenger: 
 When, haply, he shad hear that she is gone, 
 He will return; and hope 1 may, that she, 
 Heaniig so much, will speed her foot again, 
 Led hitlier by pure love: which of them both 
 Is dearest to'ine, I have no skill in sense 
 To make distinction :— Provide this messcngei : — 
 My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak: 
 Grief VN'Ould have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. 
 
 I Exeunt. 
 SCENE \.— Without the walls of Florence. 
 
 A Tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Flor- 
 
 ence, Dia.va, Violestaj Mariana, and other 
 
 Citizens. 
 
 Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approacli the 
 city, we shall lose all the sight. 
 
 Diii. They say, the Frencii count has done most 
 honorable service. 
 
 11' id. It is reported that he has taken their great- 
 est commander ; and that with his own hand he 
 slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labor: 
 they are gone a contrary way : hark ! you may 
 know by their trumpets. 
 
 Mar. Cume let's return again, and suffice our- 
 selves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed 
 of this French earl ; the honor of a maid is her 
 name ; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. 
 
 Wid. 1 have told my neighbor, how you have 
 been solicited by a gentleman, his companion. 
 
 I^tur. I know that knave ; hang him ! one Pa- 
 rollfs; a filthy otlicer he is in those suggestions' 
 lor the young earl. — Beware of them, Diima; 
 their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all 
 these engines of lust, are not the things they go 
 under :« many a maid liath been seduced by them; 
 and the misery is, example, that so terrible show3 
 in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that 
 dissuade succession, but that they are limed with 
 the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not 
 to advise you further ; but, I hope, your own grace 
 will keei> you where you are, though there were no 
 further danger known, but the modesty which is 
 so lost. 
 
 Dia. You shall not need to fear me. 
 
 Enter Helena, in lite dress of a Pilgrim, 
 
 Wilt. I hope so. Look, here conies a pilgrim. 
 
 I know slie will lie at my house: thither they send 
 
 one another : I'll question her — 
 
 God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you boimd? 
 
 Hel. To ,^aint .Taques le grand. 
 Where do the palmers" lodge, I do beseech you! 
 
 WUl. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. 
 , Hel. Is this the way .' 
 
 Wid. Ay, marry, is it. — Hark you? 
 
 [.4 march (far off. 
 They come this way ; — If you wdl tarry, holy pil- 
 grim, 
 But till the troops come by, 
 I will conduct you whure you shall be lodg'd : . 
 The rather, lor, I think, 1 know your hostess 
 As ample as myself. 
 
 Hel. Is it yourself] 
 
 iri</. II >(iu hliall please so, pilgrim. 
 
 Hel. 1 tliuuk you, and will stay upon your leisure. 
 
 M'id. You came, I think, from France ! 
 
 Hrl. I did so. 
 
 M'id. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, 
 That has done worthy service. 
 
 Hel. His name, I pray you ? 
 
 Dia. The count Rousil Ion : Know you such a one ] 
 
 Hel. Bulby tlieear,that heaismost nobly of hmi: 
 His face 1 kiiow not. 
 
 Diit. Whatsoe'er he is. 
 
 He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, 
 As 'tis reported, fori the king had marriedJiim 
 Against his liking : Think you it is so ! 
 
 Hel. Ay, surely, mere the tnitli; 1 know hislady. 
 
 Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the count, 
 Reports but coarsely of her. 
 
 Hel. What's his name] 
 
 Dia. Monsieur ParoUes. 
 
 1 Temptatione. * Not what their names express. 
 
 B Pilgrims ; po called from a staff or bough of palm they 
 were wont to carry. ' ISecause. 
 
202 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT EXDS WELL. 
 
 Act IIL 
 
 Jiel. O, I believe with him. 
 
 In argument of praise, or to tlie worth 
 Of the i^reat count hiiuseif, slie is too mean 
 To liavo her name repeated ; all her deserving 
 Is a reserved lionesty, and that 
 1 have not heard exainin'd. 
 
 Dili • Alas poor lady . 
 
 'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife 
 Of a detesting lord. 
 
 Will. A right good creature : wheresoe'er she is. 
 Her heart weighs sadly : this young maid might do 
 
 her 
 A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. 
 
 Hel. How do you mean ? 
 
 May be, the amorous count solicits her 
 In the unlawful purpose. 
 
 Wiil. He does, indeed ; 
 
 And broi.es'' with all that can in such a suit 
 Corrupt the lender honor of a maid ; 
 But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard 
 In honestest defence. 
 
 Enter, ivilk Drum and Cohrs, a Party of the 
 Florentine Arnuj, Bertram, and Paholles. 
 
 Mur. The gods forbid else ! 
 
 Wid. So, now they come : — 
 
 That is Antonio, the dukes eldest son; 
 That, Escalus. 
 
 Hel. Which is the Frenchman 1 
 
 Dia. He; 
 
 That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow ; 
 I would, he lov'd his wife ; if he were Iionester, 
 He were much goodlier ; — Is't not a handsome 
 gentleman f 
 
 He!. I like him well. 
 
 Dia. 'Tis pity, he is not honest: Yond's that 
 same knave. 
 That leads him to these places ; were I his lady, 
 I'd poison that vile rascal. 
 
 H^l. Which is he? 
 
 Di/i. That jack-an-apes with scarfs; Why is he 
 melancholy ! 
 
 Hel. Perchance he's hurt ithe battle. 
 
 Fur, Lose our drum ! well. 
 
 Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something : Look, 
 he has spied us. 
 
 Wid. Marry, hang you ! 
 
 Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring carrier ! 
 
 [Exeunt BziiriiAM, Paholles, Officers, 
 and Soldiers. 
 
 Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will 
 bring you 
 Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents 
 There's four or five, to great Saint Jaqucs bound, 
 Already at my house. 
 
 Hel. I humbly thank you : 
 
 Please it this matron, and this gentle maid. 
 To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking. 
 Shall be for me ; and, to require you further, 
 I will bestow some precepts on the virgin, 
 Worthy the note. 
 
 Both. We'll take your offer kindly. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE VI.— Camp before Florence. 
 
 Enter BEnTRAM,artiZ llie two French Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to'l; let 
 him have his way. 
 
 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a lidding,' 
 hold me no more in your respect. 
 
 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. 
 
 Ber. Do you tiiink. I am so far deceived in him? 
 
 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct 
 knowledge, without any malice but to speak of liiin 
 as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an in- 
 finite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, 
 the owner of no one good quality worthy your lord- 
 ship's entertainment. 
 
 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lost, reposing 
 too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might 
 at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, 
 fail you. 
 
 Bcr. I would, I knew in what particular action 
 to try him. 
 
 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his 
 drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake 
 to do. 
 
 1 Litrd. I, with a troop of Florentines, will sud- 
 denly surprise him ; such I will have, whom, I am 
 a Deals. ' A paltry fellow, a coward. 
 
 sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind 
 and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no 
 other but that he is carried into the leaguer' of the 
 adversaries, when we brin? him to our tents: Be 
 but your lordship present at his examination; if he 
 do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest 
 compulsion of base fear, ofl'er to betray you, and 
 deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, 
 and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, 
 never trust my judgment in any thing. 
 
 2 Lord. 0, for the love of laughter, let him fetch 
 his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when 
 your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't. 
 and to what metal this countcrl'eit lump of ore will 
 be melted, if you give him not John lirum's enter- 
 tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here 
 he comes. 
 
 Enter Paholles. 
 
 1 Lord. 0, for the love of laugh'ter, hinder not 
 the humor of his design ; let him fetch off his 
 drum in any hand. 
 
 Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks 
 sorely in your disposition. 
 
 2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go : 'tis but a drum. 
 Par. But a drum] Is't but a drum? A drum so 
 
 lost ! — There wasancxcellentcommaiid ! tocharge 
 in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend 
 our own soldiers. 
 
 2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the com- 
 mand of the service ; it was a disaster of war that 
 Cffisar himself could not have prevented, if he had 
 been there to command. 
 
 Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our suc- 
 cess : some dishonor we had in the loss of 'that 
 drum: but it is not to be recovered. 
 
 Par. It might have been recovered. 
 
 Ber. It might, but it is not now. 
 
 Par. It is to be recovered ; but that the merit of 
 service is seldom attributed to the true and exact 
 performer, I would have that drum or another, or 
 hij^ J'lcet.^ 
 
 Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, 
 if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring 
 this instrument of honor again into its native 
 quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize, and go 
 on ; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit; 
 if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak 
 of it, and extend to you what further becomes his 
 greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your wor- 
 thiness. 
 
 Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. 
 
 Ber, But you must not now slumber in it.. 
 
 Par. I'll about it this evening; and I will pre- 
 sently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself 
 in my certainty, put myself into my mortal prepa- 
 ration, and by midnight, look to hear furtlier from me, 
 
 Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you 
 are gone about it ? 
 
 Par, I know not what the success will be, my 
 lord; but the attempt 1 vow. 
 
 Ber. I know thou art valiant; and, to the pos- 
 sibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Par. 1 love not many words. [Exit. 
 
 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water. — la 
 not this a strange fellow, my lord ! that so confi- 
 dently seems to undertake this business, which he 
 Knows is not to be done ; damns himself to do, and 
 dares better be damned than to dot. 
 
 2 Lord. ■\'ou do not know him, my lord, as we 
 do: certain it is. that he will steal himself into a 
 man's favor, and, for a week, escape a great dealot 
 discoveries : but when you find him out, you have 
 him ever after. 
 
 Ber, Why, do you think he will make no deed at 
 all of ihis, that so seriously he does address himself 
 unto? 
 
 1 Lord. None in the vforld ; but return with an 
 invention, and clap upon you twoor three probable 
 lies: but we have almost embossed him: e you shall 
 sec his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your 
 lordship's respect. 
 
 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, 
 ere we case him.'' He was first smoked by the old 
 lord Laleu : when his disguise and he is parted, tell 
 me what, a sprat you shall find him; wliieli you 
 shall see this very night. 
 
 * Tho linps entrenchmontfi. > ;' g An opUaph. 
 B To omboss a dpcr is to enclose him in a wood. 
 1 Before weitrip him naked. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 203 
 
 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs ; he shall be 
 caught. 
 Btr. Your brother, he shall so along with me, 
 
 1 Lord. As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show 
 > ou 
 The lass I spoke of. 
 
 2 Lord. But, you sav, she's honest. 
 
 Bcr. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once, 
 And found her wondrous cold ; but 1 sent to her, 
 iiy this same coxcomb that we hive i' the wind. 
 Tokens and letters which she did re-send; 
 And this is all I have done : t^he's a fair creature; 
 Will you go see her ? 
 
 2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII.— Florence. A Room in ike 
 W idow's House. 
 En/er Helena and Widow. 
 
 Hel. If you raisiloubt mo that I am not she, 
 I know not how I shall assure you further, 
 But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. 
 
 IVid. Tlunigh my estate be fallen, I was well born, 
 Nothins; acquainted with these busniesses ; 
 And would not put my reputation now 
 In any staining act. 
 
 Hel. Nor would I wish you. 
 
 First, give me trust, tlie count he is my husband ; 
 And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken. 
 Is so, from word to word : and then you cannot. 
 By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, 
 Err in bestowing it. 
 
 Wid. I should believe you ; 
 
 For you have show'd rae that, which well approves 
 You are great in fortune. 
 
 Het. Take tins purse of gold. 
 
 And let me buy your friendly help thus far. 
 Which I will over-pay, and pay agani. 
 When I have found it. The count lie woos your 
 
 daughter. 
 Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty. 
 Resolves to carry her ; let her. in line, consent, 
 As we II direct her how 'tis best to bear it. 
 Now, his important' blood will nousht deny 
 That she'll demand : .\ ring the county^ wears. 
 That downward hath sucreedc?d in his house. 
 From son to son, sonic four or live descents 
 Since the first father wore it : this ring he holds 
 In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire. 
 To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 
 liowc'er repented after. 
 
 IVil. Now I see 
 
 The bottom of your purpose. 
 
 Hel. You see it lawful then ; It is no more. 
 But that your daughter, ere she seems as won. 
 Desires this ring ; appoints him an encounter ; 
 In fine, delivers mc to fill the time, 
 llerself most chastely absent: after this. 
 To marry her, I'll aild three thousand crowns 
 To what is past already. 
 
 Wid. I have yielded : 
 
 Instruct ray daughter how she shall pcrs^ver. 
 That time and place, with this deceit so lawful. 
 May prove coherent. Every night he comes 
 With musics of all sorts, and songs composed 
 To her unworthiness: It nothing steads us. 
 To chide him from our eaves ; for he persists, 
 As if his life lay on't. 
 
 Hel. Why then to-night 
 
 Let us assay our plot ; which, if it speed, 
 Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed. 
 And lawful meanmg in a lawful act ; 
 Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact : 
 B ut let's a bout it. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCEXE I. — Without the Florentine Camp, 
 Enter first Lord, ivithfive or six Soldiers in ambush. 
 
 1 Lord. He can come no other way bvit by this 
 Iiedaie'' corner : When you sally upon him. speak 
 what terrible lan^jua^je you will -. thou;;h you under- 
 stand it not yourselves, no matter: for we rrmstnot 
 seem to understand him; unless some one among 
 us, whom we mast produce for an interpreter. 
 
 1 Si)ld. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 
 
 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him } knows 
 he not thy voice] 
 
 1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 
 
 1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak 
 to us again 7 
 
 1 Sold. Kven such as you speak to me. 
 
 1 Lord. He must think us some band ofstraui^ers: 
 I' the adversary's entertainment.^ Now he hatha 
 Bmack of all neiLiliboring languages ; therefore we 
 must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to 
 know what we speak one to another; so we seem 
 to know, is to know straisrht our purpose: chough*s< 
 langua'j;e. t;abb|e enou^^h, and j;ood enough. As 
 for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. 
 But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours 
 in a sleep, and tlien to return and swear the lies he 
 forges. 
 
 Knfer Patiolles. 
 
 Par. Ten o'clock : withm tliese throe hours "twill 
 be time enough to ?n home. What sliall I say I 
 have done ] It must be a very plausive invention 
 that carries it: They bei:in to smoke me ; and dis- 
 graces liavc of late knocked too often at my door. 1 
 find, my tons^ue is too fool-hardy but my heart hatli 
 the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not 
 daring the reports of my tongue. 
 
 1 Lord. This is the first truth that e*er thine 
 own lonsue was guilty of. {Aside. 
 
 Par. What the devil should move me to under- 
 take the recovery of this drum; being not ignorant 
 of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such 
 purpose] I must give myself some hurts, and say, 
 
 8 i. t. Foreign troops in the enemy's pay. 
 * A bird like a jack-daw. 
 
 I got Ihem in exploit: Yet slight ones will not 
 carry it : They will say, Came you oil' with so little ? 
 and great ones I dare not ^cive. Whert-fore, what's 
 the instance 1» Tongue, I must put you into a 
 butter-woman's mouth, and buy another o)! Baja- 
 zet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. 
 
 1 Lord. Is it possible, he should know what he 
 
 IS, and be that he is 1 [Aside. 
 
 Par. I would the cutting of my garments would 
 
 serve the turn; or the breaking of my Spanish 
 
 sword. 
 
 1 Lord. We cannot afford you so, [Aside. 
 
 Par. Or the baring of my" beard ; and to say, it 
 was in stratagem. 
 
 I Lord. 'Twouldnot do. {Asid.e. 
 
 Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say, I was 
 stripped. 
 
 Lord. Hardly serve. [Aside. 
 
 Par. Tiiough I swore I leaped from the window 
 
 of the citadel 
 
 1 Lord, flow d.-ep T {Aside. 
 
 Par. Thirty fathom. 
 
 1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make 
 that be believed. [Aside, 
 
 par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's, 
 I would swear I recovered it. 
 Par. A drum now of the enemy's ! 
 
 [Alarum luithin 
 1 Lord. Throca movousus, curgOy cargo, cargo. 
 All Cargo, cargo, villianda par carbo, cargo. 
 Par, O! ransome, ransome : — Do not hide mine 
 eyes. [They seize him, and blindfold him. 
 
 I Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. 
 Par, I know you are the i\Iusko>' regiment. 
 And I shall lose my life for want of language : 
 If tliere be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, 
 Italian, or French, let him speak to me, 
 I will discover that which shall undo 
 The Florentine. 
 
 1 Sold. Boskos vauvado : — 
 I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue : — 
 Kereli/bouto : — Sir : 
 
 Hetake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poulards 
 Are at thy bosom. 
 
 1 Importunate. » Count. 
 
 B The proof. 
 
204 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act. 17. 
 
 Oh! 
 
 O, pray pray, pray.- 
 
 Far. 
 
 I Sold. 
 I^lanka revania dulche. 
 
 1 Lord. Oscorbi dakhos vnlivorca. 
 
 1 Sold, The general is content to spare thee yet; 
 And hood-wink d as thou art, will lead thee on 
 To ffather from thee: h.iply, thou raayst inform 
 Sonv.'thini; to save thy lile. 
 
 Far. 0, let me live, 
 
 And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, 
 Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that 
 Which you will wonder at. 
 
 1 Sold. But wilt thou faithfully l 
 
 Par If I do not, damn me. 
 
 1 Sold. Acordo linfU' — 
 
 Come on, Uiou art granted space. 
 
 [E-zif, wif/i Paiiollks guarded. 
 
 1 Lord. Go, tell tae count Kousillon, and my 
 
 brother. 
 We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him 
 
 n milled. 
 Till we do hear from them. 
 
 2 Sold. Captain, I win. 
 
 1 Lttrd. He will betray us all unto ourselves; — 
 Inform "cm that. 
 
 2 Sold. So I will, sir. 
 
 1 Lord. Ti" then, I'll keep him dark, and safely 
 lockd. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.-Florence. A Room in the Widow's 
 
 Jlouse. 
 
 Eater Betitiiam and Dtaxa. 
 
 Bt. Tliey told me, that your name was Fontibell. 
 
 I)ui. No, my good lord, Diana. 
 
 Bir, Titled goddess; 
 
 And worth it. with addition! But, fair soul, 
 In your line frame hath love no quality! 
 If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, 
 You are no maiden, but a monument: 
 When you are dead, you should be such a one 
 As you are now, for you are cold and stern; 
 And now you should he as your mother was. 
 When your sweet self was got. 
 
 Z)i-7."She then was honest. 
 
 Ber. So should you be. 
 
 Bia. No: 
 
 My mother did but duty: such, my lord, 
 As >'ou owe to your wife, 
 
 Bcr. No more of that ! 
 
 I pry thee, do not strive against my vows; 
 I was compelld to her; hut 1 love thee 
 By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever 
 Do tliee all rights of service. 
 
 Dia. Ay, so you serve us, 
 
 Till we serve you : but when you have our roses, 
 You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves. 
 And mock us with our bareness. 
 
 Ber. How have I sworn ? 
 
 Dia. 'Tis not thy many oaths that make the truth : 
 But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. 
 What is not holy, that we swear not by, 
 But take the Highest to witness : Then, pray you, 
 
 tell me. 
 If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, 
 I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths, 
 When i did love you ilH this has no holding, 
 To swear by him whom I protest to love. 
 That 1 will work against him: Therefore, your oaths 
 Are words and poor conditions ; but unseal'd ; 
 At least, in my opinion. 
 
 Ber. Change it, change it; 
 
 Be not, so holy-cruel : love is holy ; 
 And my integrity ne'er knev? the crafts, 
 That you do charge men with:' Stand no more off", 
 But give thyself unto my sick desires, 
 Who then recover: say, thou art mine, and ever 
 My love, as it begins, shall so persevere. 
 
 Dia. I see, that men make hopes, in such affairs, 
 That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. 
 
 Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no 
 power 
 To give it from me. 
 
 Dia. Will you not, my lord 1 
 
 Ber. It is an honor 'longing to our house, 
 Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
 Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world 
 In me to lose. 
 
 Dia. Mine honor's such a ring: 
 
 My chastity's the jewel of our house. 
 Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
 
 Which were the greatest obloquy i'the wnrld 
 In me to lose : Thus your own proper wisdom 
 Brings in the champion honor on my part, 
 Against your vain assault. 
 
 Ber. Here, take my ring : 
 
 My house, mine honor, yea, my life be thine. 
 And I'll be hid by thee. 
 
 Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my cham- 
 ber window ; 
 ril order take, my mother shall not hear. 
 Now will I cliarge you in the bond of truth, 
 When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed 
 Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me : 
 My reasons are most strong ; and you shall know 
 
 them, 
 When back again this ring shall be deliver'd : 
 And on your finger, in the night Til put 
 Another ring ; that, what in tune proccedfi. 
 May token to the future our past deeds. 
 Adieu, till then ; then fail not: You have won 
 A wife of me, though there my hope be done. 
 
 Ber. A heaven on earth I have won- by wooing 
 thee. [Exit. 
 
 Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven 
 and me ! 
 
 You maC so in the end: 
 
 My mother told me ju^t how he would woo. 
 As if she sat in his heart ; she says, ail men 
 Have the like oaths : he had sworn to marry me, 
 W'hcn his wife's dead ; therefore I'll lie with him. 
 When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,^ 
 Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid : 
 Only, in this disguise. I think't no sin 
 To cozen him, that would unjustly win. [Exit< 
 
 SCENE lU.-~The Florentine Camp. ' 
 
 Enter the two French Lords, and two or three 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Lord. You have not given him his mother's 
 letter ? 
 
 2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since : there 
 is something in't that stings his nature : for, on the 
 reading it, lie changed almost into another man. 
 
 1 Litrd. He has much worthy blame laid upon 
 him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet 
 a lady. 
 
 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlast- 
 ing displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his 
 bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you 
 a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. 
 
 1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and 
 I am the grave of it. 
 
 2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman 
 here in Florence, of a most chaste renown ; and 
 this night he t3eshes his will in the spoils of her 
 honor : he hath given her his monumental ring, and 
 thinks himself made in the unchaste compo.sition. 
 
 1 Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion ; as we 
 arc ourselves, what things are we ! 
 
 2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as in the 
 common course of all treasons, we still see them 
 reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred 
 ends ; so he, that in this action contrives against his 
 own nobility,in his proper stream o'erflowshimself. 
 
 1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable'^ in us, to be 
 trumpeters of our unlawful intents { We shall not 
 then have his company to-nii:ht ? 
 
 2 Lord. Not till after midnight ; for he is dieted 
 to his hour. 
 
 1 Lord. That approaches apace; I would gladly 
 have him sec his company^ anatomized ; that he 
 might take a measure oi' his own judgments, 
 wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. 
 
 2 Ijtrd. We will not nn-ddle with him till he 
 come ; for his presence must be the whip of the 
 other. 
 
 1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of 
 these wars '! 
 
 2 T^ord. I hear, there is an overture of peace. 
 
 1 Lord, Nay, I assur* you. a pe&ce concluded. 
 
 2 Lord. What will count Rousillon do then 1 will 
 he travel higher, or return again into France 1 
 
 1 Lord, I perceive, by this demand, you are not 
 altogether of his council. 
 
 2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir ! so should I be a 
 great deal of his act. 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since 
 1 Crafty, deceitful. 
 2 Uore, aa olsowhere, used adrcrbially. 3 For companion. 
 
Sci 
 
 III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 205 
 
 fled from his iiousc ; her pretense is a pilgrinia;xe 
 to Saint. Taqucsle srand ; which holy underlakmk, 
 with most austere sanctimonv, she accomplished: 
 aiijl, tliere residing, the tenderness of her nature 
 became as a prey to her grief; in fine made a groan 
 of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. 
 2 Lnrd. How js this justihed 1 
 
 1 L'lrii. The stroni^cr part of it by her own letter; 
 which makes her story true, even to the point 
 of her death; her dealh itself, wliich could not be 
 her ollicc to say, is come, was faitlitulJy continued 
 by the rector of the place. 
 
 2 L:iriL Hath the count all this intelligence 1 
 
 1 L/ird. Ay, and the particular conlirmations, 
 point from point to the full arnnng of the verity. 
 
 2 Lord. I am liearlily sorry, that heUl be glad of 
 this. 
 
 1 Lcird. How mightily sometimes we make us 
 comf)rts of our losses ! 
 
 2 Lnrd. And bow mightily, some other times, 
 we drown our pain in tears ! The great dignity, 
 that his valor liatli here acijuircd for him, shall at 
 home be encountered wilh a shame as ample. 
 
 1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, 
 pood and ill together : our virtues would be proud, 
 if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes 
 would despair, if they were not cherished by our 
 virtues. 
 
 Ei)/er a Servant. 
 How now 7 Where's your master ] 
 
 Ssri: He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom 
 he halh taken a solemn leave ; his lordship will 
 next morning for France. The duke hath ollcred 
 him leiters of commemlations to the king. 
 
 2 Lrird. They shall be no more than needful 
 there, if they were more than they can commend. 
 
 Kilter BKn-riiiM. 
 
 1 Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's 
 tartness. Here's his lordship now. How now, my 
 lord, is t not after midnight ! 
 
 Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen busi- 
 nesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of 
 success: I have conge' d with tlie duke, done my 
 adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for 
 her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; en- 
 tertained my convoy; and between these main 
 parcels of despatch, eilected many nicer needs ; the 
 last was the greatest, but that 1 have not ended yet. 
 
 2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and 
 this morning your departure hence, it requires haste 
 of your lordship. 
 
 Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing 
 to hear of it hereafter. liut shall we have this dia- 
 logue between the fool and the soldier ? Come, 
 
 bring forth this counterfeit module:" he has de- 
 ceived me like a double-meaning prnphesier. 
 
 2 Lord. Bring him forth: |A',rei(»/ .-Soldiers.] He 
 has sat in the stocks, all night, poor gallant knave. 
 
 Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserved it, in 
 usurping his spurs'" so long. How does he carry 
 himself? 
 
 1 Lord. I have told your lordship already; tile 
 stockscarry him. But. to answer you as you would 
 be underalood ; he weeps like a wench that had 
 shed her milk: he hath confessed himself to Mor- 
 gan, whom he supposes to lie a friar, from the time 
 of Ins remembrance, to this very instant disaster 
 of lis sitlmg i'the stocks: And wliat think you he 
 halh confessed? 
 
 Ber. Nothing of me, has he ? 
 
 2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be 
 read to his face : if your lordship be in't, as I be- 
 lieve you are, 5'ou niiist have the patience to hear it. 
 
 Re-enter Soldiers Willi Parollis. 
 
 Ber. A plague upon him ! mufllcd! he can say 
 nothing of inc ; hush! hush! 
 
 1 Lord, lioodmancomvs'. — Porto tiirtnro.isa. 
 
 1 t^otd. He calls for the tortures: What will you 
 say without 'em ? 
 
 Pur. I will confess what I know without con- 
 straint; if he pinch me like a pasly, I can say no 
 more. 
 
 1 Sold. Boslto chimiirchn. 
 
 2 Lord. Boblibindo rliienrmurcho. 
 
 1 Sold. You are a merciful general:— Our general 
 I Srodel, ptitt^rn. 
 
 » .\n allusion to the dogratlation of a knighl by back- 
 ing off his spurs. 
 
 b.ds you answer to what ! shall ask you out of 
 a note. 
 
 Pur. And truly, as I hojie to live. 
 
 1 Sold. Firfit, dtmand of hint tiuiv many horse 
 the duke is string. V\'hai say you to that ? 
 
 Par. Five or six thousand*: but very weak and 
 unservicea'ile: the troops are all scattered, and the 
 commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation 
 anil credit, and as 1 hope to live. 
 
 1 Sold. Shall I set tiown your answer so ? 
 
 Par. Do; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and 
 which way you will. 
 
 Ber. Alls one to him. What a past-saving slave 
 is this ! 
 
 1 Lord. Xovi are deceived, my lord ; this is mon- 
 sieur I'aiolles. the gallant militarist, (that was his 
 own phrase,) that had the whole theorick of war 
 in the knot of his Scarf, and the practice in the 
 chape^ of his dagger. 
 
 2 Lord. I will never trust a man again, for keep- 
 ing his sword clean ; nor believe he can liave every 
 thing in him, by wearing his apparel neatly. • 
 
 1 Sold. Well, thafs set down. 
 
 Pur. Five or six thousand horse, I .said, — I will 
 say true,— or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak 
 truth. 
 
 1 Dird. He's very near the truth in this. 
 
 Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, iii the nature 
 he delivers it. 
 
 Par. Pofir rogues. 1 pray you, say. 
 
 1 Sold. Well.that's set down. 
 
 Par. I humbly thank you, sir ; a truth's a truth, 
 the rogues are marvellous poor. 
 
 I Sold. Deniand^rf him Irliat ilrength they are 
 a-fotd. What say j ou to that ? 
 
 Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this 
 present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio 
 a hundred and fifty, Sebastian .so many, Corambug 
 so many, Jiiqnes .so many; Cuiltian, "Cosmo, Lo- 
 dnwick, and C.ratii. two hundred and fnty each: 
 mine own company, Chitoplier, Vanmond. Bentii, 
 two hundred and hfly each: so that the niuster- 
 lilc, rotten and sound, ujion my life, amounts not 
 to fifteen thousand poll ; half of which dare not 
 shake the snow from otf their cassocks,* lest they 
 shake themselves to pieces. 
 
 Ber. What shall be done to )iim ? 
 
 1 Lord. Nolhiiig but let him have thanks. De- 
 mand of linn my conditions,' and what credit I 
 have with the duke, 
 
 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. Yon .■<haU de- 
 mand (if him whet tier one Captain Duiiiain be 
 i' tlie cuntji, a Frenchman; ii-hat hix rcpiilatiim is 
 with the ilukc, wliat hi.i valor, honesty, itiid i xpert- 
 ne.is in ivar.i ; orwhtttnr lie thinks it were not 
 possible, with well-writhing suni.s of fzold. In cor- 
 rupt him torcvolt. What say you to this? What 
 do you know of it ? 
 
 Pur. I beseech you, let me answer to the par- 
 ticular of the interrogatories : Demand them singly. 
 
 1 Sold. Iio you know this captain Dumain? 
 
 Pur. I know him: he was a botcher's prentice in 
 Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the 
 sherilFs fool with child; a dumb innocent," that 
 could not say him, nay. 
 
 I Domain lifts up hU hand in anaer. 
 
 Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; 
 though I know, his brains are forfeit to the next 
 tile that falls. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Flo- 
 rence's camp? 
 
 Par. Vpoii my knowledge, he is, and lousy. 
 
 Lnrd. Nay, look not so upon mc ; we shall licar 
 of your lordship anon. 
 
 1 Sol'l. What is the reputation with the duke 1 
 
 Par. The duke knows liim from no other but a 
 poor oflicer of mine ; and writ to me the other day, 
 to turn him nut o' the band : I think I have his letter 
 in my pocket. 
 
 1 Sold. Marry, we'll search. 
 
 Par. In good sadness, I do not know: either it 
 is there, or it is upon a tile, with the duke's olher 
 letters in my tent. 
 
 1 Sold. Here 'tis ; lierc's a paper. ShaJl I read 
 it to you ? 
 
 Par. I do not know if it be it or no. 
 
 Ber. Our interpreter does it well. 
 
 3 The point of the eeabliard. 
 
 4 Ca*sork then signified a borscmati's loose coat. 
 
 ' XlLsposition and character. e A natural fool. 
 
206 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 1 Lord. Kxccllently. 
 
 1 SoH, V iAn. The c'lu fit's a fool, and full of golil. 
 
 Par. That is not thi^ duke's letter, sir ; that is an 
 advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one 
 Diana, to t tke heed ot' the ailuremL-nts of one count 
 Uousdion. a tbohsh idle boy, but, fur all that, very 
 ruttish : I pray you, sir, put it up a^^ani. 
 
 1 Su/'l. Nay, I'll read it lirst, by your iavor. 
 
 Par. My meanni^ in't, I protest, was very honest 
 in the lu'half of the maid; fori knew the youn^ 
 count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy ; wJio 
 is a whale to vni^uuty, and devours up all the fry 
 it finds. 
 
 Bcr. Damnable, both sides rogue ! 
 
 1 Sold- IVh^n he stvear^ oaths, bid him drop 
 
 gold, and fake it; 
 Af'er he scores he never pays the score : 
 Ha!f won, is matcli well made; match, and well 
 
 make it ,• . 
 He ne'er pays after d.e'>ts, take it before ; 
 And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this. 
 Men are to melt with, Ooys are not to kiss : 
 For count of this, the count's a fool, Iknotc it. 
 Who pays before, but not when he dues owe it. 
 
 Thine, as lie vow'd to ihee in thine ear, 
 
 PAROLLEfi. 
 
 "Ber. He shall be wlijpped through tlie army, 
 with this rhyme in his forehead. 
 
 2 Lnrd. This is your devoted friend, sir, the 
 manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier. 
 
 B-::r. I could endure any thmj^ before but a cat, 
 and now he's a cat to me. 
 
 1 Sold. 1 perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we 
 shall be fain to hang yoa. 
 
 Par. My life, sir, in any case : not that I am 
 afraid to die ; but that, my otlences being many, I 
 would repent out the remainder of nature : let me 
 live. sir. m a dungeon, i' the stock's, or any where, 
 so I may live. 
 
 1 Sold, We'll see what may be done, so you con- 
 fess freely ; therefore, once more to this captain 
 Dumain : You have answered to his reputation witli 
 the duke, and to his v^lor : What is his honesty? 
 
 Par, He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister, 
 for rapes and ravislimenls he parallels Ncssus.* 
 He professes not keeping of oatiis; in breaking 
 them, be is stronger tnan Hercules. He will lie, 
 sir, with s\^{\ volubility, that you would think truth 
 were a fool: (h'unkenneS' is liis best virtue ; for he 
 will be swme-drunk; and in his sleep he does little 
 harm, save to his bed-clothes about him ; but they 
 Ivnow his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have 
 but little more to say, sir, of his honesty : he has 
 everything that an hone.^t man should not have; 
 what an honest man should have, he has nothing. 
 
 1 Lord. 1 begin to love him for this. 
 
 Ber. For this description of thine honesty T A 
 pox upon htm for me, he is more and more a cat. 
 
 I Sold. What say you to his expertne?;s in war ? 
 
 Pur. Faith, sir, lie has led the drum before the 
 English tragedians — to belie him, I will not,— and 
 more ofhis soldiership I know not; except, in that 
 country he had the honor to be the officer at a place 
 there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling 
 of files: 1 would do the man what honor 1 can, 
 but of this 1 am not certain. 
 
 1 On'd. He hath out-villaincd villainy so far, that 
 the rarity redeems him. 
 
 Bcr. A pox on him ! he's a cat still. 
 
 1 Sidd, His qualities bein^ at this poor price, 
 I need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to 
 revolt. 
 
 Par. Sir, for a quart d^ecu^ he will sell the fee- 
 pimple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and 
 cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual 
 suoecssioii for it perpetually. 
 
 1 Sold, Whafs his brother, the other captain 
 Dumain I 
 
 2 I.m-il. Wliy does he ask him of me ] 
 1 Sold. What's he ] 
 
 Par. Ken a crow of the same nest; not altogether 
 so groat as the first in goodness, but greater a great 
 deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, 
 yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is. 
 In a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in 
 coming i>n he has the cramp. 
 
 1 Sfdd. If your life be saved, will you undertake 
 to botiay the i'lorcntme? 
 
 4 Tin- O-ntaur kih-'tl by TlerculeP. 
 
 ' The fourth j^nrt oj the smalk-r French crown. 
 
 Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count 
 Rousillon. 
 
 1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know 
 his pleasure. ^ 
 
 Par. Ill no more drumming; a plague of all 
 drums ! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile 
 tlie supposition* of that lascivious young boy, the 
 count, have I to run into this danger: Vet who 
 would have suspected an ambush where 1 wastaken? 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die : 
 the general says, you that liave so traitorously dis- 
 covered the secrets of your army, and made such 
 pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can 
 serve the world fur no honest use; therefore you 
 must die. C ome. liead&man, olt with his liead. 
 
 Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my 
 death. 
 
 1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of 
 all your friends. i Unmu£ling him* 
 So, look about you ; know you any here f 
 
 Ber. Good moiTow, noble captain. 
 
 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. 
 
 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain. 
 
 2 Lord. CapUiin, what greeting will you to my 
 lord Lafcu] I am for France. 
 
 1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy 
 of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the 
 count Rousillon ? an' I were not a very coward, I'd 
 compel It of you ; but fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt HKnTUAM, Lords, &c. 
 
 1 Sold. You are undone, captain ; all but your 
 scarf, that has a knot on't yet. 
 
 Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot ? 
 
 1 Sold. If you could find out a country where 
 but women were that had received so mucli shame, 
 you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you 
 well, sir: I am for France too; we shall speak of 
 you there- {£x'it. 
 
 Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, 
 'Twould burst at this : Captain FU be not more ; 
 But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
 As captain shall: simply the thing I am 
 Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart. 
 Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass, 
 That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
 Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live 
 Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! 
 There s place, and means, for every man alive. 
 Ill after them. [£an^ 
 
 SCENE IV.— Florence. A Room in the M^idow's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Helesa, Widow, and Diana. 
 
 Hel. That you may well perceive I have not 
 wrong'd you, 
 One of the greatest in the christian world 
 Shall he my surety; 'fore whose throne, 'tis needful, 
 Kre 1 can perfect mine intents, to kneel : 
 Time was I did him a desired oflicc, 
 Dear almost as his life ; which gratitude 
 Through tlinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth. 
 And answer thanks: I duly am inform'd 
 Ills grace is at Marseilles; to which place 
 We nave convenient convoy. You must know, 
 I am supposed dead: the army breaking. 
 My husoand hies him home ; where, heaven aiding, 
 And by the leave of my good lord the king, 
 We'll be, before our welcome. 
 
 JVid. Gentle madam. 
 
 You never iiad a servant, to whose trust 
 Your business was more welcome. 
 
 Hel. Nor you. mistress, 
 
 Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labor 
 To recompense your love ; doubt not, but heaven 
 Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, 
 As it hath fated ber to be my motive 
 And helper to a husband. But, O stranire men ! 
 That can such sweet use make ofwhat they hate, 
 When saucy trusting of the cozen'd tiioui;hts 
 Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play 
 With what it loathes, for tiiat which is away; 
 
 liut more of this hereafter You, Diana, 
 
 Under my poor instructions yet must sulfer 
 Something in my behalf. 
 
 Dia. Let death and honesty 
 
 Go with your impositions,^ I am yours, 
 Upon your will to suffer. 
 
 • To dfcpive the opinion. 
 
 ■> Lascivious. ' Commands. 
 
V. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 207 
 
 Hel. Yet, I pray you, 
 
 But wilh the word, the time will hrijij; on summer, 
 When briers shall have leaves as well as thorjis, 
 And be as sweet as sharp. We must away ; 
 Our waggon is prepared, and time revives us : 
 AlCs wcllthul enilsu'<il : still the fine's' the crown; 
 Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. 
 
 {Exeuni. 
 
 SCENE v.— RousiUon. A Room in the 
 
 Countess's Palace. 
 Enter Cod.^tess, Lafec, and Clown-. 
 
 iMf. No, nn, your son was misled with a snipt, 
 tallata fellow there ; whose villainous satlVon > would 
 have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a 
 nation in his color: your daughter-in-law had been 
 alive at this hour : and your son here at home, more 
 advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed hum- 
 ble-bee I speak of. 
 
 Count. 1 would, I had not known him ! it was 
 the death of (he most virtuous gentlewoman that 
 ever nature had iiraisc for creating : if she had par- 
 taken of my llesli, and cost me the dearest groans 
 of a mother, I could not have owed lier a more 
 rooted love. 
 
 Lnf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady : we 
 may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such 
 another herb. 
 
 Cto. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of 
 the salad, or, rather, the herb of grace.** 
 
 Lnf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave, they 
 are nose-herbs. 
 
 Cli). I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have 
 not much sidll in grass. 
 
 Lnf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave 
 or a fool : 
 
 Ck). A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a 
 knave at a man's, 
 
 l/if. Your distinction'! 
 
 Clii. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do 
 his service. 
 
 L'if. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. 
 
 17". And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, 
 to do her service. 
 
 Lnf. I will subscribe for thee ; thou art both 
 knave and fool. 
 
 Chi. At your service. 
 
 Lnf. No. no, no. 
 
 Cin. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve 
 as great a iirince as yon are. 
 
 Lnf. Who's that fa Frenchman? 
 
 Cki. Faith, sir, he has an English name: but 
 his phisnomy is tnore hotter in France, than there 
 
 Lnf. What prince is that? 
 
 Cln. The black prince, sir ; alias, the prince of 
 darkness; alius, the devil. 
 
 Lnf. Hold thee, there's my purse; I give thee 
 not this to suggest a thee from thy master thou 
 talkest of; serve him still. 
 
 Clu. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always 
 
 loved a great lire ; and the master I speak of, ever 
 keeps a good flre. But, sure, he is the prince of 
 the world, let his nolnliiy remain in his court. I 
 am for the house wilh the narrow gate, which I 
 take to be too little for pomp to enter ; some, that 
 hunililc themselves, may; but the many will be too 
 chill and tender; and they'll be for the llowery way, 
 that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire. 
 
 Lnf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-wearv of thee, 
 and I tell thee so before, because 1 would not fill 
 out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be 
 well looked to, without any tricks. 
 
 CJn. If 1 put any tricks upon em.-sir, thev shall 
 he jades' tricks ; which are their own right by the 
 law of nature. [Exit. 
 
 Lnf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.* 
 
 Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, made 
 himself much sport out of him ; by hisiiuthority he 
 remains here, which he thinks is a patent lor his 
 sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs 
 where he will. 
 
 Lnf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss; and I was 
 about to tell you. Since I heard of the good lady's 
 death, and that my lord your son was upon his re- 
 turn home, 1 moved tlie 'king my master, to speak 
 in the behalf of my daughter: which in the minor- 
 rity of them both, his majesty,outof a self-gracious 
 remem'irancc, did first propose: his highness hath 
 promised me to do it: and, to stop up the displea- 
 sure he hath conceived against your son, there is no 
 htter matter. How does your ladyship like it? 
 
 Cnunt. With verV much content, my lord, and 
 1 wish it happily etl'ectcd. 
 
 Lnf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of 
 as able body as when he numbered thirty ; he will 
 be here to-morrow, or 1 am deceived by him that 
 in such intelligence hath seldom failed. 
 
 Cnunt. It rejoices me, that I hopel shall see him 
 ere I die. I have letters, that my son w.ll be here 
 to-night : I shall beseech your lordship, to remain 
 with me till they meet together. 
 
 Lnf. iMadam, I was thinking, with what manners 
 I might safely he admitted. 
 
 Cnunt. You need but plead your honorable priv- 
 ilege. 
 
 Lnf. Lady, of that I have made a bold character; 
 but, I thank my God, it holds yet. 
 
 Re-enter Clown. 
 
 Cln. O madam yonder's my lord your son with 
 a patch of velvet on's llice : whether there be a scar 
 under it, or no, the velvet knows: but 'tis a goodly 
 patch of velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two 
 pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. 
 
 L'if. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good 
 livery ot honor ! .so, belike, is that. 
 
 Cln._ But it is your carbonadoedi face. 
 
 Lnf. Let us go see your son, I pray you ; I Ions 
 to talk with the young noble soldier. 
 
 Cln. 'Faith, there's a dozen of em, with delicate 
 hne hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow 
 the head and nod at every man. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Marseilles. A Street. 
 
 Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, wilh two 
 Attendants. 
 
 Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and ni<'ht 
 Must wear your snirits low : we cannot help it • 
 But since you have made the days and nights as one 
 To wear your gentle limbs in my affiiirs, 
 Be bold, you do so grow in my requital. 
 As nothing can unroot you. In happy time ; 
 
 Enter a gentle Astringer.' 
 This man may help me to his majesty's ear. 
 If he would spend his power— God save you' sir 
 
 Gent. And you. ' 
 
 Hel. Sir, 1 have seen you in the court of France. 
 
 CeJit. I have been sometimes there. 
 
 He!. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen 
 
 • End. 
 
 iThPTO was a fttiliion of using yellow .starch for tjandis 
 liDd ruffles, to which I.iifeu alludes. ij. e. Hue. 
 
 ' Svdace. i A gentleman falconer. 
 
 !■ rom the report that goes i:pon your goodness ; 
 And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, 
 U Inch lay nice manners hv, 1 put you to 
 The use of your own virtues, for the which 
 I shall continue thankful. 
 
 Gent. What's your will ' 
 
 Hel. That it will please you 
 To give this poor petilion to the king. 
 And aid me with that store of power you have. 
 To come into his presence. 
 
 Gent. The king's not here. 
 
 H''- Not here, sir ? 
 
 ,,•'''"'• Not, indeed: 
 
 He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste 
 Than is his use. 
 
 ,"''''■ I-ord, how we lose our pains ! 
 
 Jlcl. A/l'.^ melt thai f»//.s n-ell, yet ; 
 Though times .seem so adverse, aiid means unfit.— 
 I do beseech you, whither is he gone '. 
 
 * ^liprhievously unhnppy, wafrd^h. 
 
 « Scored like a piece of meat for the gridiron. 
 
208 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Gen/. Marry, as I take it, to RousiUon ; 
 VVIiilher I am goln^'. 
 
 Hel. I do beseech j'ou sir, 
 
 Since you are like to s^e tlie l<ins before me, 
 Comineiid the paper to his gracious liand ; 
 Which. I presume, shall render you no blame. 
 But ratlier make you thank yimr pains for it : 
 I will come alter you, with what good speed 
 Uur mL'uiis will mike us means. 
 
 Gen/. This I'll do for you. 
 
 Hsl. And you shall find yourself to be well 
 thankd, 
 Whate'er tails more.— We must to horse asain ; — 
 Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— RousiUon. T/ie inner Court of tite 
 
 Countess's Palace. 
 
 Enter Clown and Farolles. 
 
 Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu 
 this letter: I have, ere now, sir, been belter known 
 to you, when I have held familiarity with Ircslier 
 clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's 
 moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, 
 if it smell so strong as thou speakcst of: 1 will 
 thenceforth eat no fish of fortune s butteruig.— 
 Prythee, allow the wind. 
 
 Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir ; I 
 spake but by a metaphor. 
 
 Vlu. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will 
 stop my nose; or against any mans metaphor. — 
 Pi'j tliee, get thee further. 
 
 Par. l-'ray you, sir, deliver me this paper. 
 
 Clo. Foh! prythee, stand away: A paper from 
 fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman ! Look, 
 here he comes himself. 
 
 Enter Lafeu. 
 Here is a pur of fortune, sir, or of fortune's cat, 
 {but not a musk-cat.) that has fallen into (he unclean 
 fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is mud- 
 died withah Pray you. sir, use the carp as you may; 
 for lie looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, 
 rascally knave. I do pity his distress in niy smiles 
 of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. 
 
 [Exit Clown. 
 
 Par. My lord. I am a man whom fortune hath 
 cruelly scratched. . 
 
 Laf. And what would you have me to dol tis too 
 late "lo pare her nails now. Wherein have you 
 played Ihe knave with fortune, that she should 
 scratcli J ou, who of herself is a good lady, and 
 would not have knaves tlirive long under her! 
 There's .a quart tV ecu for you: Let the justices make 
 you and fortune friends : 1 am for other business. 
 
 Par. 1 beseech your honor to hear me one sin- 
 gle word. 
 
 L:if. 'i'oubeg a single penny more: come, you 
 shall hat; save your word. 
 
 Pur. My name, my good lord, is ParoUes. 
 
 Luf. You beg more than one word, then. — Cox 
 my passion! give me your hand: — How does your 
 drum! ,. . n . 
 
 Pur. O my good lord, you were the first that 
 found me. c i u . 
 
 Luf. Was I, in sooth'! and I was the first that 
 lost thee. 
 
 Pur. It lies in yon, my lord, to bring mo in some 
 grace, for you did bring me out. 
 
 Lff. Hut upon llice. knave ! dost thou put upon 
 me at once both the oilice of God and the devil ! 
 one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee 
 out. l'rri///i;jf/s ,ijund.\ The king's coming, 1 know 
 by his trumpets.— Sirrah, inquire further alter me; 
 I had talk ol you last night: though you are a fool 
 and a knave, you shall eat : go to, follow. 
 
 Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— .4 Room in the Countess's Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Km^, Countess, Hfku, Lords, 
 Gentlemen, Guards, &c. 
 
 King. We lost a jewel of her ; and our esteem' 
 Was made much poorer by it : but your son, 
 As mad in folly, lackd Ihe sense to know 
 Her estimation home.' 
 
 Cnunt. 'Tis past, my liege: 
 
 And 1 beseech your majesty to make it 
 
 1 Ilcckonint; op estimate. • Completely, Id its full extent. 
 
 Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; 
 When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, 
 O'erbears it, and burns on. 
 
 King. My honor'd lady, 
 
 I have forgiven and forgotten all ; 
 Though my revenges were high bent upon hira. 
 And watch'd the time to shoot. 
 
 L'f. This I must say,— 
 
 But first I beg my pardon, — The young lord 
 Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, 
 Otlcnce of mighty note; but to himself 
 The greatest wrong of all : he lost a wife. 
 Whose beauty did astonish the survey 
 Of richest eyes ; whose words all ears took captive ; 
 Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorned to serve, 
 Humbly calld mistress. 
 
 King. Praising what is lost, 
 
 JIakes the remembrance dear. — Well, call him 
 
 hither ; 
 
 We are reconcifd, and the first view shall kill 
 All repetition ;«— Let him not ask our pardon ; 
 The nature of his great oltenre is dead. 
 And deeper than oblivion do we bury 
 The incensing relics of it: let him approach, 
 A stranger, no olTender ; and inform liim. 
 So 'tis our will he should. 
 Gent. I shall, my liege. 
 
 [Exit Gentleman. 
 King. What says he io your daughter! have you 
 
 spoke ! 
 Lrtf. All that he is hath relerence to your highness. 
 King. Then shall we have a match. I have let- 
 ters sent me. 
 That set him high m fame. 
 
 Enter BtiiTBAiH. 
 Lr;/. He looks well on'U 
 
 King. I am not a day of season. 
 For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail 
 In me at once: But to the brightest beams 
 Distracted clouds give way ; so stand thou forth, 
 The time is fair again. 
 
 Ber. My high reputed blames. 
 
 Dear sovereign, pardon to me. 
 
 King. A 11 is whole; 
 
 Not one word more of the consumed time. 
 Let's take the instant by the forward top ; 
 Kor we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 
 The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
 Steals ere we can ellect them : You remember 
 The daughter of this lord ! 
 
 Ber. A'dmiringly, my liege : at first 
 I struck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
 Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : 
 Where the impression of mine eye infixing. 
 Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me. 
 Which warp'd the line of every other favor ; 
 Scorn'd a fair color, or cxpress'd it stol'ii ; 
 Extended or contracted all proportions. 
 To a most hideous object: Thence it came. 
 That slie, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself 
 Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye 
 The dust that did oflend it. 
 
 King. Wellexcus'd: 
 
 That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away 
 From the greatccmpl: But love, that comes loo late 
 Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried. 
 To the great sender turns a sour ollf-nce, 
 Crying, That's good that's gone : our rash faults 
 Make trivial price of serious tilings we have. 
 Not knowing them, until we know their grave: 
 Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust. 
 Destroy our friends, and after weep their dnst : 
 Our own love waking cries to see what's done. 
 While shameful hate sleeps out the aflernoon. 
 Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. 
 Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin, 
 The main consents are had ; and here we '11 slay 
 To see our widower's second marriage-day. 
 Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven 
 
 bless ! 
 Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease! 
 Lfif. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name 
 Must be digested, give a favor from you. 
 To sparkle in the .spirits of my daughter. 
 That she may quickly come.— By my old beard. 
 And every hair that s on't, Helen, that s dead, 
 Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this. 
 The last that e'er I took her leave at court, 
 1 saw upon her finger ! 
 
 • Recollection, ' i. c. Of uninterrupted rain. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS AVELL, 
 
 2C9 
 
 ^Bf. Hers it was not. 
 
 A'»!^. Now, pr.iy you, lot ine see it ; (or mine eye. 
 While I was spoakiiiL', oft was fa^tened tol.— 
 This ring was mine?; and. when 1 gave it Helen, 
 I bade her, if iicr fortunes ever stood 
 Necessitied to help, that by this token 
 I would relieve her : Had you that craft, to reave her 
 Of what should stead her most I 
 
 ^^^' My Kracious sovereign, 
 
 Howe'er it pleases you to take it so. 
 The ring was never hen. 
 
 Ccmnl. Son, on my life, 
 
 I have seen her wear it; and she reckon 'd it 
 At her life's rate. 
 Lnf. I am sure, I saw her wear it. 
 
 Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it: 
 In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, 
 Wrapp'd in a iiapcr, which contain'd the name 
 Of her that threw it : noble she was, and thought 
 I stood ensa^^'d :■'. but when I had subscribed 
 To mine own fortune, and informd her fully, 
 I could not answer in that course of honor. 
 As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, 
 In heavy satisfaction, and would never 
 Receive the ring again. 
 
 liing. ' riutus himself. 
 
 That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,' 
 Hath not in nature's mystery more science. 
 Than 1 have in this nng: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, 
 Whoever gave it jou: Then, if you know. 
 That you are well acquainted with yourself. 
 Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement 
 You got it from her: she calld the .saints to surety, 
 That she would never put it from her finger, 
 Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, 
 (Where you have never come,) or sent it us 
 Upon her great disaster. 
 ■Ccr. She never saw il. 
 
 King. Thou .speak'st it falsely, as I love mine 
 honor ; 
 And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me 
 Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove 
 That thou art so inhuman, — 'twill not prove so;— 
 And yet I know not : — thou didsl hale her deadly, 
 And she is dead ; which nothing, but to close 
 Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, 
 More than to see this ring.— Take him away.— 
 [Guards seize Bkhtiiam. 
 My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, 
 Shall tax my fears of little vanity. 
 Having vainly feard too little.— Away with him;— 
 We'll sift this matter further. 
 
 Bcr. . If von shall 
 
 I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady. 
 Was foully snatch d. 
 C'wl- Now, justice on the doers ! 
 
 Enler BEnTnA>i, t;uarJed. 
 King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to 
 you. 
 And that you fly them as you swear them lordship 
 \ et you desire to marry. — What woman's that 1 
 
 Ri-enler Gentleman, loUh Widow and Diajta. 
 
 Did. I am, my lord, a wretched Klorentine, 
 Derived from the ancient Capulet ; 
 .My suit, as I do understand, you know, 
 .4nd therefore know how far I may be pitied 
 
 fVii. I am her mother, sir, whose ase and honor 
 Both suffer under this complaint we bring. 
 And both shall cease,s without vour remedy. 
 King. Come hither, count :' Do you know these 
 
 women ' 
 Brr. My lord, I nether can, nor will deny 
 But that 1 know them : Do they charge me lurther ! 
 D'ui. Why do you look so strange upon yourwifei 
 Bcr. She's none of mine, my lord. 
 ,.^'-<'-. ... , If you shall marry, 
 
 ^ ou give away this hand, and that is mine ; 
 You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine • 
 You give away myself, which is known mine ; 
 For 1 by vow am so embodied yours. 
 That she, which marries you, must marry mp 
 Kilher both or none. 
 
 Laf. Your reputation [To BF.nTnoi] comes too 
 short for my daui;hler; you are no husbaiicl for her. 
 Bcr. My lord, this is a fond and desperate crea- 
 ture. 
 Whom sometime I have laueh'd with : let your high- 
 ness ° 
 Lay a more noble thought upon mine honor. 
 Than for to think lliat 1 would sink it here. 
 King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have therii ill to 
 friend, 
 Till your deeds gain them : Fairer prove your 
 honor. 
 
 _,,. . , • , Tf you snail prove 
 
 This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy 
 Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence 
 Where yet she never was. * 
 
 [Exit Eebtham, guarded. 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. 
 
 (^'-nt. Gracious sovereign. 
 
 Whether 1 have been to blame, or no, I know nbf 
 Here s a petition from a Florentine, ' 
 
 Who hath for four or five removes,* come short 
 To tender it hersrif. I undertook it, 
 Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech 
 Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, 
 Is here attending: her business looks in her 
 With an important visage ; and she told me 
 In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern ' 
 
 Your highness with herself. 
 
 A'i;;s'- [Iteads.l Vpmi li'is tnany prntcstaiions to 
 marry me, when liis wife wa.i dead, I fitus/i to sa7/ 
 't, he icon me. Now ti tlie count RnusiUim a 
 widower; h,.i vows are forfeited to me, and my 
 honor"si>ai4 tnliim. He stole froniFlorence,taliin'' 
 no tear', and 1 follow liim to fill country for jus- 
 tice .- Grant it me, O liing,- in you it lest tiei ■ 
 otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid ii 
 
 «'"'<«'<;• DiAX-A CAPL-LtT. 
 
 Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and 
 toll him : I for this, I'll none of him. 
 King. The heavens have thought well on thee, 
 Lafeu, 
 To bring forth this discovery. — Seek these suitors: 
 Go, speedily, and bring again the count. 
 
 [Exeunt Gentleman and some Attendants. 
 
 " In tho sense of unengaged, a The rhilosopher's stone 
 • rost-stages. 6 p^y t(jj| f^j. j^;j^_ 
 
 Than in my thought it lies ! 
 
 Di/i. Good my lord. 
 
 Ask him upon his oalh. if lie does think 
 He bad not uiy virginity. 
 
 King. What sayest tliou to her 1 
 
 Ber. She's impudent, my lord. 
 
 And was a common gamester to the camp.' 
 
 I)ia. He docs me wrong, my lord ; if I were so 
 He might have bought me at a common price : ' 
 Do not believe him : O, behold this ring, 
 Whose high respect, and rich validity," 
 Did lack a parallel ; yet, for all that. 
 He give it to a commoner o' the camp. 
 If 1 be one. 
 
 Count. He bluslies, and 'tis it : 
 
 Of six [ireceding ancestors, that gem 
 Cnnferr'd by testament to the sequent issue. 
 Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife- 
 That ring's a thousand proofs. ' 
 
 A'l'Hg. I^Ietbought, you said. 
 
 You saw one here in court could witness it. 
 
 Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce 
 So bad an instrument ; his name s l>ari>lles. 
 
 Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. 
 
 King. Find him, and bring him hither. 
 „^er. What of him 7 
 
 He's quoted ■ for a most perfidious slave, 
 With all the spots o' the world tax'd and (?ebosh'd ■» 
 Whose nature sickens, but to speak a Irutli : ' 
 
 Am 1 or that, or this, for what he'll utter, 
 Tliiit will speak any thing 1 
 
 King. She hath that ring of yours. 
 
 Ber. I think she has ; certain it is, I liked her 
 And boarded her, i' the wanton way of youth : ' 
 She knew her distance, and did angle for me. 
 Madding my eagerness with her re'straint. 
 As all impediments in faney'si course 
 Are motives of more fimcy ; and, in fine. 
 Her insult coming with her modern grace.i 
 Subdued me to her rate : she got the ring 
 And I had Ihat, which any inferior might 
 At market price have bought. 
 
 « Decease, die. 
 1 Gamester, when applied to a female, then meant a 
 common woman. 
 
 ' Noted. » Debauch 'd. i Love. 
 
 •> IUt ,solicitation concurring with her aiinearancc of 
 oemg common. 
 
210 
 
 ALL'S' WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Dia. I must be patient ; 
 
 You that turn"d ofTa first so noble wife, 
 May justly diet me. I pray you yet, 
 (Since you lack viitue, 1 will lose a husband,) 
 Send for your ring, 1 will return it home. 
 And give me mine again. 
 
 Ber. I have it not. 
 
 Kinz- What ring was yours, 1 pray you \ 
 
 Dia. sir, much hlie 
 
 The same upon your finger. 
 
 Kin^. Know you this ring \ this rmg was his 
 of late. 
 
 Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed. 
 
 Kinf. The story then goes false, you threw it him 
 Out of a casement. 
 
 Dia. 1 have spoke the truth. 
 
 Enter Pauolles. 
 Ber. ISIy lord, I do confess, the ring was hers. 
 King. Vou boggle shrewdly, every feather starts 
 you. 
 Is this the man you speak of 1 
 
 Dia. Av, my lord. 
 
 King. Tell me, sirrali, but tell mc true, 1 charge 
 you. 
 Not fearing the displeasure of your master, 
 (Which, on your just procediug, 1 11 keep off,) 
 By hini, and hy this woman here, what know youl 
 'Par. So please your majesty, my master hath 
 been an honorable gentleman; tricks he hath had 
 in him. which gentlemen have. 
 
 Kins:. Come, come, to the purpose : Did he love 
 this woman 7 
 Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her; Rut liow ] 
 Kins. How. I pray you ^ 
 Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a 
 woman. 
 King. How is that ] 
 
 Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. 
 A'iiPff. A.s thou art a knave, and no knave :— 
 What an equivocal companion is this 1 
 
 Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty s 
 command. 
 
 Luf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty 
 orator. . , 
 
 Dia. Do yon know, he promised me marriage ! 
 Par. 'Faith, I know more than 111 speak. 
 King. But wilt thou not speak all thou knowestl 
 Par. Yes, so please your niajtsty ; I did go be- 
 tween them, as I said: but iiiore" than that, he 
 loved her, — for indeed he was mad for her, and 
 talked of Satan, and of liml)0, and of furies, and I 
 know not what : yet I was in that credit with them 
 at that time, tliat I knew of their gonig to bed ; 
 and of other motions, as promising her marriage, 
 and things that would derive me ill will to speak ot, 
 therefore I will not speak what I know. 
 
 King. Thou hast spoken all alre^idy, unless thou 
 
 canst say they are married : But thou art too fine 
 
 in thy evidence ; therefore stand aside — 
 
 . This ring, you say, was yours ! ^ , . 
 
 Dia. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 King. Where did you buy it ? or wlio gave it you. 
 
 Dili. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it, 
 
 JiTi/;!'. Who lent it youl 
 
 Dia. It was not lent me neither. 
 
 King. Where did you find it then ? 
 Dia° I found it not. 
 
 King. If it were yours by none of all these ways. 
 How could you give it him '! . 
 
 Din. I never gave it nim. 
 
 Lrif. This woman's an easy glove, my lord ; she 
 goes off and on at pleasure. 
 King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wile. 
 Dia- It might be yours or hers for aught 1 know. 
 King. Take her away, I do not like her now : 
 To prison with her, and away with him.— 
 
 Unless thou tcU'st me wliere thou hadst this ring 
 Thou diest within this Iiour. 
 
 Dia, I'll never tell you. 
 
 King. Take her away. 
 
 Diu. Ill put in bail, my liege 
 
 Kin'j;, I think thee now some common customer 
 
 Dill. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. 
 
 King. Wherefore hast thou accused him all thii 
 while ] 
 
 Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty : 
 He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to t. 
 I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. 
 Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life ; 
 I am cither maid, or else this old man's wife. 
 
 {Pointing to L.iff.u.) 
 
 King. She does abuse our ears ; to prison with 
 her. 
 
 Dia. G ood mother, fetch my bail.— Stay, royal sir ; 
 [Exit Widow. 
 The jeweler, that owes' the ring, is sent for, 
 Aiid'he shall surety me. But for this lord. 
 Who hath abusd me, as he knows himself. 
 Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: 
 He knows himself, my bed he hath delild ; 
 And at tliat time he got his wife wilh child; 
 Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: 
 So there's my riddle, (Ine, that's dead, is quick: 
 .\nd now bcholithe meaning. 
 
 Re-enter Widow, wiili HEii;jfA. 
 
 King. Is there no exorcist 
 
 Besuiles the truer office of mine eyes ! 
 Is't real, that 1 see ] 
 
 Hel. No, my good lord ; 
 
 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see. 
 The name, and not the thing. 
 
 jjfr. Both, both ; O, pardon I 
 
 Hei. O. my good lord, when 1 was like this maid, 
 I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, 
 And, loiik you, here's your letter ; This it says, 
 Wlien front mti finger you can get fliis ring, 
 And are bij me. wil/i ehi'.d, &c,— This is done: 
 Will you be mine, now you are doubly won 'I 
 
 Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this 
 clearly, 
 I'll love her dearly, ever dearly. 
 
 Het. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, 
 Deadly divorce step between me and you !— 
 (), my dear mother, do I see you living ! 
 
 Lnt'. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon : 
 Good Tom Drum, {To Paholli-.s,] lend me a hand- 
 kerchief: So, I thank thee : wait on me home, I'll 
 make sport with thee : Let thy courtesies alone, 
 They are scurvy olies. 
 
 King. Let us from point to point this story know, 
 To make the even truth in pleasure flow :— 
 If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, 
 
 {To DiAXA. 
 
 Choose thou thy husband, and III pay thy dower; 
 For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid, 
 Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.— 
 nf that, and all the progress, more and less, 
 Resolvedly more leisure shall express: 
 All yet seems well ; and if it end .so meet. 
 The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. 
 
 {Fiounsh. 
 Advancing. 
 
 The king's a beggar, now ttie play is dune : 
 All is well ended, if ttiis suit he won, 
 Tliat t/ou express content; ivhicli ive will pay, 
 IVith' strife to please you, day exceeding day: ^ 
 Ours be your patience, then, and yours our parts. • 
 your gentle hamls Und us, and talte our hearts. 
 
 {Exeunt 
 
 3 Owns. « ;'. !. Take our parts, support and defonj his. 
 
TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 PERSONS RErUESENTED. 
 
 A LOHT). 
 
 jHnisTiipHF.il Sit, a drunTiai fitikei: ) Per^otis 
 
 Hostess. Page, Pliivers, Huntsmen and J in Ike Iii- 
 
 vther Servants uUendins on the Lord. ) ducimi. 
 
 Baptista, a rich gentleman nf Padua. 
 ViycF,NTio, an nid t^cnttenian rif Pisa. 
 LucEXTio, ^im tit A'incenli(5, in ioi'e with Biancn. 
 Petkuchio, « Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to 
 
 Katharina. 
 G HEirio, 
 
 tioRTE 
 
 E°S.0,}^'"' 
 
 iturs to Bianca; 
 
 CurtVs"' \ Servants to Pelruchio. 
 Petiast, an old Fellow, set up to personate Via- 
 centio. 
 
 K\rii\niy\, the Shreii;\ r, ,, . „ ,. . 
 BiA>cA, fter sinter, 'j OanghJers to BapUsla. 
 IVidow, 
 
 Tailor, Haberdasttcr, and Servants, attending on 
 Baptista and Pelruchio. 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 SCENE 1.— Before an alehouse on a heath. 
 Enter Hostess and Slt. 
 
 Sly. I'll pheesei you. in faith. 
 
 Host. A pair of stocks, you rosruo ! 
 
 Sli/. Y'are a baeyaice; the Slies are no rotruos. 
 Look in the rhronlcies. we came in with Richard 
 Conquerer. Then'Core paucas pallabris .-'^ let the 
 world slide : Sesxa .' ' 
 
 Host. You will not pay for the glasses you liave 
 burst 1 
 
 SZy No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimo;— 
 Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.' 
 
 Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the 
 third borouiih.s 
 
 Sli/. Third, or fourth, or fifth bornujh. Ill an- 
 swer him by law : I'll not budge an inch, boy ; let 
 him come, and kindly. 
 
 [Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. 
 
 Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with 
 Huntsman and Servants. 
 
 Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my 
 hounds ; 
 Brach« Mcrriman, — the poor cur is emboss'd,'— 
 And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed brach. 
 Saw'st tliou not, boy, how Silver made il good 
 .At the hed^e corner, in the coldest fault? 
 I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. | 
 
 1 Hunt. Why, Belmanisasgooifashe, ray lord: 
 He cried upon il at the merest loss. 
 And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: 
 Trust me. I take' him for the better dog. 
 
 Lord. Thou art-a fool; if Echo were as fleet, 
 I would esteem him worth a dozen such. 
 But sup Ihem well, and look unto them all; 
 To morrow I intend to hunt again. 
 
 1 Hunt. I will, my lord. 
 
 Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, 
 doth he breathe ? 
 
 2 Hunt. He breathes, my lord: Were he not 
 
 warm'd with ale, 
 This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. 
 Lord. monstrous beast ! how hke a swine he 
 
 lies ! 
 G rim death, how foul and loathsome is thine ima^e ! 
 
 Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man " 
 
 What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, 
 ■Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his dngers, 
 A most deliciou.s banquet by his bed, 
 
 ' Boat or knnck. « Pew words. ■ Be quiet. 
 
 « This lino and serap nf Spanish is used in burlesque 
 from (m old piny called Uieronymo or the Spanish TraE- 
 edy. 
 
 ' f," "fflrarwhoso authority equals that of a constable. 
 
 ' J^''*- ' Strained. 
 
 211 
 
 .\nd brave attendants near him when he wakes, 
 Would not the beggar then forget himself? 
 
 1 Hunt. Believe me, lord, "I Uiink he cannot 
 
 choose. 
 
 2 Hunt. It would seem strange unto him when 
 
 he wak'd. 
 Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless 
 
 fancy. 
 Then take hi:Ti up, and manage well the jest:— 
 t'jirry liim gently to my fairest chamber. 
 And hang it rouiid witii all my wanton pictures: 
 lialm his Ibul head with warm distilled waters, 
 .•\nd burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: 
 Procure me music ready when he wakes. 
 To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; 
 And if he chance to speak, be ready straight, 
 And, with a low submissive reverence 
 ■Say, — What is it your honor will command? 
 Let one attend him with a silver bason, 
 Full of rose-waler, and bestrewd with flowers; 
 -Another bear the c\\'cr, the third a diaper. 
 And say, — Willi please your lordship cool your 
 
 hands ? 
 Some one be_ ready with a costly suit. 
 And ask him what apparel he will wear; 
 Another tell liini of his hounds and horse, 
 And that his lady mourns at his disease: 
 Persuade him that he hath been lunatic ; 
 And, when he says he is,— say that he dreams, 
 For he is nothing tut a mighty lord. 
 This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs; 
 It will be pastime passing excellent, 
 If it be husbanded with modesty.' 
 1 Hunt. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our 
 part, 
 .\s he shall think, by our true diligence. 
 He is no less than what we say he is. 
 
 Lrjrd. Take him up gently, and to bed with him, 
 .\nd each one to his office when he wakes. — 
 
 [Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds. 
 Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds : 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 Belike, some noble gentleman ; that means, 
 Traveling some journey, to repose him liere. — 
 
 Re-enter a Servajit. 
 How now ? who is it ? 
 
 Sen\ An it please your honor, 
 
 Players that otTer service to your lordship. 
 Lord. Bid them come near : — 
 Enter Players. 
 Now, fellows, you are welcome. 
 
 1 PUiy. We thank your honor. 
 
 I^rd. Do you intend to stay with me to-night ? 
 
 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty 
 
 ® ModcratioD- 
 
21-2 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Ini 
 
 Lord. With all my heart. — Tiiis fellow I remem- 
 ber, 
 Since once he play'd a firraer's eldest son ; 
 'Twas where you woo d the jienticwoman so well : 
 I have tbrgot your name; but sure that part 
 Was aptly titted, and naturally perlbinid. 
 
 1 PUiy. I tliink 'twas Soto, tiiai your honor means. 
 
 I^trd. 'Tis very true ; — thou didst it excellent. 
 Well, you are coine to lue in happy time ; 
 The rather, for I have some sport ni hand, 
 Wherein your cunning can assist me much. 
 There is a lord will hear you play to-nij^ht: 
 But [ am doubtful of your modesties; 
 Lest, over-eying of his odd behavior, 
 (Kor vet his honor never lieard a pliiy,) 
 \ou break into some merry passion. 
 And so ojiend hiin ; for 1 toll you. sirs. 
 If you should smile, he grows nnjiatient. 
 
 I Play. Fear not, my lord ; we can contain our- 
 selves, 
 Were he the veriest antic in the world. 
 
 Lord. Go, sirrah, take tiiem to the buttery, 
 And give ihem friendly welcome every one : 
 Let tliem want nothini; that my house ailbrds. — 
 
 [Exeunt Servant and Players. 
 Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew, my page, 
 
 IT/J a Servant. 
 And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady ; 
 That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, 
 And call him — madam, do him obeisance, 
 Tell hnn from me, fas he will win my love,) 
 He bear himself with honorable action. 
 Such' as he hath observed in noble ladies 
 Unto their lords, by them accomplished , 
 Such duty to the drunkard let him do, 
 With soft low ton^uei and lowly courtesy ; 
 And say — What ist your honor will command. 
 Wherein your lady, and yuur humble wife, 
 May show her duty, and make known her love 1 
 And then—with kindembraL-ements,temptmg kisses. 
 And with declining head into his bosom, — 
 Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy d 
 ■ 'J'o see her noble lord restord lo health. 
 Who, lor twice seven years, hath esteemed him 
 No better tban a poor and loathsome beggar ; 
 And if the boy have not a womans gift, 
 To rain a shower of commanded tears, 
 An onion will do well for such a shift ; 
 Which in a napkin being close convcy'd, 
 Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. 
 See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst ; 
 
 Anon 111 give thee more instructions. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 I know, the boy will well usurp tlie grace, 
 Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman : 
 1 lon;^ to hear him call the drunkard, husband; 
 And now my men will stay themselves from laugh- 
 ter, 
 When Ihcy do homage to this simple peasant, 
 111 in to counsel them: haply my presence 
 May well abate the over merry spleen. 
 Which otherwise would go into extremes. 
 
 \ Exeunt, 
 SCENK n, — A Bedchai/iber in Ike Lord's House 
 
 S LY is discovered in a i-ich ni^hf-^oivn,7vitk A t tend 
 ants; some toitk appatrl, others tvi/U bason 
 civer, and otfier appurtenances. Enter Lord, 
 dressed like a Servant. 
 Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 
 
 1 Serv. WiU't please your lordship drink a cup 
 
 of sack I 
 
 2 Serv. Will't please your honor taste of these 
 
 conserves'? 
 
 3 Serv. What raiment will your honor wear to-day? 
 Sly. I am Christopher Siy; call not me — honor, 
 
 nor lordship : I never drank sack in my life ; and if 
 you give me any conserves, ^ive me conserves of 
 beef: Ne\r ask me what raiment III wear, for I 
 have no more doublets than backs, no more stock- 
 ings Ihim legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay. 
 sometinK's, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as 
 my toes look through the over-leather. 
 
 Lord. Heaven cease this idle humor in your 
 honor ! 
 O, that a mighty man of such descent. 
 Of such possessions, and so higli esteem, 
 Should l»e infused with so foul a spirit ! 
 
 .S7//. What, would you make me mad? Am not 
 I Christopher Sly, 5ld Sly's bon of Burton-heath; 
 
 by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by 
 transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present 
 profession a tinker .' Ask Marian Hackit, the tat 
 aie-wil'e of Wincot, if she know nie nut : if she say 
 1 am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, 
 score me up for the lyingcst knave in Christendom. 
 What, I am not bestraught;* Here's 
 
 1 St?'v. t), this it is that makes your lady mourn. 
 
 2 Sere. O, this it is that makes your servants 
 
 droop. 
 Lo7'd. Hence conies it that your kindred shun 
 
 your house. 
 As beaten hence by your strange klnacy. 
 O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth ; 
 Call home thy ancient thoughts from b;inishmerit, 
 And banish hence these abject lowly dreams: 
 Look how thy servants do attend on thee, 
 ICach in his ottice rcadyat thy beck. 
 Wilt thou have music] hark: Apollo plays, 
 
 [Music* 
 And twenty caged nightingales dosing : 
 Or wilt thou sleep ? we'll have thee toa couch, 
 Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed 
 On purpose trimni'd up for Semirami«. 
 Say, thou wilt walk ; we will bestrew the ground: 
 Or wilt thou ride ? thy horses shall be trapp'd. 
 Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. 
 Dost thou love hawking .' thou hast hawks will soar 
 Above the morning lark: Or wilt thuu hunt? 
 Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them, 
 And leteh shrill echoes irom the hollow earth. 
 
 1 Strv. Say, thou wilt course; thy grcyhounda 
 
 are as swift 
 As hreithed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 
 
 2 Serv. Dost llion love pictures? we will fetch 
 
 thee straight • 
 Adonis, painted by n running brook: 
 And Cytherea all in sedges hid ; 
 Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, 
 Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 
 
 Lord. We'll show thee lo, as she was a maid ; 
 And how she was beguiled and surprisd. 
 As lively painled as the deed was done. 
 
 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny 
 
 wood ; 
 Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds : 
 And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep. 
 So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. 
 
 Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord : 
 Thou hast a lady far more beautiful 
 Than any woman m this waning aije. 
 
 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she had shed for 
 
 thee, . 
 Like envious floods, oVr-ran her lovely face. 
 >-he was the fairest creature in tiie world ; 
 And yet she is inferior to none. 
 
 Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady 1 
 Or do I dream? or have 1 dream'd till now i 
 ! do not sleep ; 1 sec, I hear, I speak ; 
 1 smell sweet savors, and 1 feel soft things: — ■ 
 Upon my life, \ am a lord, indeed; 
 And not a tinker, nor Cristophero Sly. — ■ 
 Well, bring our lady hither to our sight: 
 And Diice again, a pot o' the smallest ale. 
 
 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash 
 
 your hands? 
 
 [Servants f,reseni an etcer, basin, and na}Jtin. 
 O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd ! 
 O, that once more you knew but what you are ! 
 These fifteen years, you have been in a dream; 
 Or. when you wak-d, so wak'd as if you slept. 
 
 Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. 
 But did 1 never speak of all that time? 
 
 1 Serv. O, yes. my lord; hut very idle words:— 
 For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, 
 Yet you would say. ye were beaten out of doors; 
 And rail upon the hostess of the house; 
 And say, you would present her at the leet,' 
 Becauseshe brought stonejugs and no seal 'd quarts. 
 Sometimes you would call out for Cicely llacket. 
 
 Sly. Ay. the woman's maid of the house. 
 
 3 Serv. ^Vhy, sir, you know no house, nor no 
 
 such maid 
 Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up, — 
 As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece, 
 And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimperneil; 
 And twenty more such names and men as these, 
 Which never were, nor no man ever saw. 
 Sly. Now, Lord be thanked lor my good amends; 
 » Distracted. ^ Coxirt-leet. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 213 
 
 All. Amen. 
 
 Sly. I tliank thee ; tliou slialt not lose by it. 
 Enter the Page, as a La-lu, ivUk Altcndants. 
 Page. How f.ires my nolile lord? 
 Sly. Marry. I I'are well; for liere is cheer enough. 
 Where is my wile ! 
 Page. Here, noble lord ; what is thy will with her! 
 Sly. Are you my wile, and will not call me — 
 husband \ 
 My men should call me— lord; lamyour goodman. 
 Page. -My husband and my lord, my lord and 
 hubbjnd; 
 I am your vvite in all obedience. 
 
 ■•y- 
 
 I know It well :— Wliat must I call her ? 
 
 Lord. Madam 
 
 Sbi. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? 
 
 Lurd. Madam and nothing else; so lords call lad-.cs. 
 
 Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dreain'd, 
 and slept 
 Above some fifteen year and more. 
 
 Page. Ay, and the time seems tliirty unto me : 
 Being all this time abaiidon'd from your lied. 
 
 Sly. 'Tis much ; Servants, leave me and her 
 
 alone. 
 
 Madam, undress you. and come now to bed. 
 
 Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you, 
 To pardon me yet for a night or two ; 
 
 Or, if not so, until the sun be set : 
 
 For your physicians have expressly charged, 
 
 In peril to incur your Ibriner malady. 
 
 That 1 should yet absent me from your bed: 
 
 I hope, this reason stands for my excuse. 
 
 Sh/. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so 
 long, itut I would be loath to fail into my dreams 
 again ; 1 will tlierefore tarry, in despite of the llesh 
 and the blood. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sen: Your honor's players, hearing your amend- 
 ment. 
 Are come lo play a pleasant comedy: 
 i'or so j'our doctors hold it very meet; 
 Seeing too much sad ness hath congeai'd your blood. 
 And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy. 
 Therefore, thev thought it good you hear a play. 
 And frame your mnid to mirth and merriment. 
 Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. 
 
 Slii. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a 
 cominoni y '' a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling-trickl 
 
 Page. No, my good lord : it is more pleasing stulf. 
 
 Sh/. What, household stuff? 
 
 Page. It is a kind of history. 
 
 Shi. Well, we'll sce't : Come, madam wife, sit 
 by ii'iy side, and let the world slip ; we shall ne'er 
 be younger. {.Tiny iil down. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — Padua. A public Place. 
 Enter Lucentio and Thamo. 
 
 Luc. Tranio, since — for the great desire I had 
 To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, — 
 I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy, 
 The pleasant garden of great Italy: 
 And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd 
 With his good will, and thy good company, 
 Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all; 
 Here let us breathe, and happily iiistilule 
 A course of learning, and ingenious' studies. 
 Pisa, renowned for grave citizens. 
 Gave me my being, and my father first, 
 A merchant of great traflic through the world, 
 ■Vincentio, come of the Hentivolii. 
 Vincentio, his son, brought up in Florence, 
 It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd, 
 To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: 
 And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, 
 Virtue, and that part of pliilosopliy 
 Will 1 apply, that treats of happiness 
 By virtue "siiecially to be achievd. 
 Tell me thy mind : for I have Pisa left. 
 And am to Padua come : as he that leaves 
 A shallow plash,* to plunge him in the deep, 
 And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. 
 
 Tra. Mi perdonate,' gentle master mine, 
 I am in all alTected as your.self ; 
 Glad that you thus continue your resolve, 
 To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. 
 Only, good master, while we do admire 
 This virtue, and this moral discipline. 
 Lets be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray ; 
 Or so devote to Aristotle's cliecks,^ ■ 
 As Ovid be an outcast quite abjiir'd: 
 Talk logic with acquaintance that you have. 
 And practise rhetoric in your common talk : 
 Music and poesy used to quicken you; 
 The mathematics and the metaphysics. 
 Fall to them as you tind your stomach serves you: 
 No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ; — ■ 
 In brief, sir, study what you most all'ect. 
 
 Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. 
 If. Biondello, tliou wert come ashore. 
 We could at once put us in readiness: 
 And take a lodging fit to entertain 
 Such friends, as the time in Padua shall beget. 
 But stay awhile: What company is tills? 
 
 Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town. 
 Enter Baptista, Kathauixa, Bianca, Giiemto, 
 
 aiid HoTiTENsio. LucENTio and Tranio 
 
 stand aside. 
 
 Bap. Gentlemen, impoitunc me no further, 
 
 sFor Comedy. a Ingenuous. * Small picTes of water. 
 6 Pardon me. 6 Uarsh rules. 
 
 For how I firmly am resolved you know ; 
 That is, — not to bestow my youngest daughter, 
 liefure 1 have a husband for tlie elder: 
 If either of you both love Kalharina, 
 ISecause I know you well, and love you well. 
 Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. 
 
 Gra. To cart her rather: She's too rough forme: — 
 There, there, Hortcnsio, will you any wife? 
 
 Kath. I pray you, sir, \To Bap.] is it your will 
 To make a stale of ine amongst these mates ? 
 
 Hur. Mates, maid! how mean you that ? no mates 
 fur you. 
 Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 
 
 Knth. I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear; 
 I wis,' it is not halfway to her heart : 
 Hut, if it were, doulit not her care should be 
 To comb your noddle with a three-lcgg'd stool, 
 And paint your face, and use you like a fool. 
 
 Bar. From all such devils, good Lord, dchver us! 
 
 Gre. And me. too, good Lord I 
 
 Tra. Husli, master! here is some good pastime 
 toward ; 
 That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward. 
 
 Luc. But in the other s silence I do see 
 Maid's mild behavior and sobriety. 
 Peace, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. Well said, master; mum ! and gaze your fill. 
 
 /Sap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good 
 What I have said, — Bianca, get you in : 
 And let it not displease tliee, good Bianca; 
 For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. 
 
 Kiitli. A pretty peat !• 'tis best 
 Put finger in the eye,— an she knew why. 
 
 Biati. Sister, content you in my discontent. — 
 Sir. to your pleasure humbly I subscribe; 
 My books, and instruments, shall be my company ; 
 On them to look, and practise by myself. 
 
 Luc. Hark, Tranio! thou mayst hear Minerva 
 speak. {Aside. 
 
 Bar. Siguier Boptista, will you be so strange ? 
 Sorry am I, that our good will effects 
 Bianca's grief. 
 
 Gre. Why will you mews her up, 
 
 Signior Bapti.sta, for this fiend of hell. 
 And make lier bear the penance of her tongue? — 
 
 Birp. fJentlemen, content ye ; I am resolv'd: — 
 Go in, Bianca. \Exit Biaxca. 
 
 And for I know, she fakcth most delight 
 In music, instruments, and poetry. 
 Schoolmasters will I k'eep within my house 
 Fit to instruct her youth. — ^If you, Hortcnsio 
 Or Signior Gremio, you, — know any such. 
 Prefer them hither ; for to cunning men 
 I will be very kind, and liberal 
 To mine own children in good bringin'^ up ; 
 
 'Think. • Pet. 'Shut. 
 
2U 
 
 TAMIXG OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 And so firewell. Katharina, you may stay ; 
 
 For 1 have more to commune with Biaiica. [Exit. 
 
 Kath. Why, and I trust, I may go too; May 1 not! 
 What, shall 1 be appointed hours; "as though, belike, 
 1 knew not what to take, and what to leave ] [Exit. 
 
 Gre. Yon may go to the devil's dam; your gihsi 
 are so i^ood, here is none will hold you. Our love 
 IS not so great, Kortensio, but we may blowournails 
 to^cllier, and fast it fairly out; our cake's dough on 
 both sides. Farewell; — Vet, for the love 1 bear 
 my sweet Btanca, if I can by any means hght on a 
 fit man, to teach her that wherein, she delights, I 
 will wish him to her fatlier. 
 
 Hor. So will I, si^nior Gremio: Cut a word, I 
 pray. Though the nature of our quaiTel yet never 
 brook'd parle, know now, upon advice,^ ii toucheth 
 us both,— that we may yet again iiave access to 
 our fair mistress, and be liappily rivals in Bianca's 
 love, — to labor and eilect one thm^; 'specially. 
 
 Gre. What s that, I pray 1 
 
 Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. 
 
 Gre. A husband! a devil. 
 
 }li)r. I say, a husb;ind. 
 
 Gre. I say. a dcvU: Think'st tliou, Hortensio, 
 though her father be very rich, any man is so very 
 a foot to be married to ht'r] 
 
 Hijy. Tush, Gremio; though it pass your patience, 
 and mine to endure her loud alarums, why, man, 
 there be good fellows in the world, an a man cuuid 
 light on them, would take with her all faults, and 
 money enough. 
 
 Gre. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her 
 dowry with this condition, — to be whipped at the 
 high-cross, every morning. 
 
 Hor. 'Faith as you say, there's small choice in 
 rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in law 
 makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly 
 maintained, — till by helping Baptisla's eldest 
 daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free 
 for a husband, and then have tot afresh. — Sweet 
 liianca! — Happy man be his dole !' How say you, 
 signior Gremio T 
 
 Gre. I am agreed : and would I had given him 
 the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that 
 would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, 
 and rid the house of her. Come on. 
 
 [Kxtuui GiiKMio and IIoutensio. 
 
 Tra. \Adv(mcing.\ I pray, sir, tell me, — Is it 
 possible 
 That love should of a sudden take such hold \ 
 
 Lnc. Tranio, till I found it to be true, 
 I never thoui^ht it possible, or likely ; 
 But see! whfle idly I stood looking on, 
 I found the effect of love in idleness : 
 And now in plainness do confess to thee, — 
 That art to me as secret, and as dear. 
 As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, — 
 Tranio, I burn, 1 pine, 1 perish, Tranio, 
 If 1 achieve not lliis young modest girl : 
 Counsel me. Tranio, for 1 know thou canst; 
 Assist me, Tranio. lor 1 know thou wilt. 
 
 Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now ; 
 Affection is not rated* from the heart : 
 If love have touched you, nought remains but so,— 
 Rcdime tecaptum quuin quca-s niinimo. 
 
 Luc. Gramercies, lad; go forward: this contents; 
 The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. 
 
 Tra. Master, you look'd so longly* on tlie maid. 
 Perhaps you mark'd not whafs the pith of all. 
 
 L'lc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, 
 Such as the daughter of Agenore had, 
 That made great Jove to humble him to her hand. 
 When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. 
 
 Tra. Saw you no more .' mark'd you not, how her 
 sister 
 Began to scold ; and raise up such a storm, 
 That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ? 
 
 L'tc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, 
 And with her breath she did perfume the air; 
 Sacred iind sweet was all I saw in her. 
 
 Tru, Nay, then 'tis time to stir him from his trance. 
 I pray awake, sir ; If you love the maid, 
 Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it 
 
 stands : — 
 Her oldest sister is so curst and shrewd, 
 That, till the father rid his hands of her. 
 Master, your love must live a maid at home ; 
 
 1 Endowratjnts. ^ConsidtTation. 3 Gain or lot. 
 
 * Driven out by chiding. » Longingly. e iluropa. , 
 
 And therefore has he closely mevv'd her up. 
 Because she shall not be annoy'd with suitors. 
 
 Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel fathers he ! 
 But ait thou not advised, he took some care 
 To get her cunning masters to instruct her ? 
 
 Tra. Ay, marry, am 1, sir; and now tis plotted. 
 
 Jaic. I have it, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. Master, for my hand. 
 
 Both our inventions meet and jump in one, 
 
 Luc. Tell me tlnne tiist. 
 
 Tra. You will be schoolmaster 
 
 And undertake the teaching of the maid : 
 Thaf s your device. 
 
 Luc. 1 1 is : May it be done 1 
 
 Tra. Not possible ; For who shall bear your part, 
 And be in Padua here Vincentios son \ 
 Keep house, and ply iiis book; welcome his friends, 
 Visit his countrymen, and banquet them 7 
 
 Luc. Basta ;t content thee ; tor I have it full. 
 We have not yet been seen in any house; 
 Nor can we be distinguished by our faces, 
 For man, or master; then it follows thus; — 
 Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, 
 Keep house and port,' and servants as I should: 
 I will some other be ; some Florentine, 
 Some Neapolitan, or mean man of Pisa. 
 'Tis Ijatch'd, and shall be so: — Tranio, at once 
 Uncase thee; take my colord hat and cloak : 
 When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; 
 But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. 
 
 Tra. So had you need. [They exchange habits. 
 In brief tlien, sir, sitfis it your pleasure is, 
 And I am tied to be obedient ; 
 ( For so your father charg'd me at our parting; 
 Be .serviceable to my son, quotii he. 
 Although, I think, 'twas in anotJier sense;) 
 1 am content to be Lucentio, 
 Berause so well 1 love Lucentio. 
 
 L'lc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves: 
 And let mc be a slave, to achieve that maid 
 Whose sudden sight hath thralld my wounded eye. 
 
 Enter Biondello. 
 Herecomes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been? 
 
 Bion. Where have I been? Nay, how now, where 
 are you? 
 Master, has my follow Tranio stol'n your clothes 1 
 (n- you s^toFn his .' or both 1 pray, whafs the news7 
 
 Luc. Sirrah, come hither; 'lis no time to Jest, 
 And therefore frame your manners to the time: 
 Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, 
 Puts my apparel and my countenance on, 
 And I for my escape have put on his ; 
 For in a quarrel, since I came ashore, 
 I kilfd a man, and fear I wiis descried : 
 Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, 
 While I make way from hence to save my lift : 
 You understand me. 
 
 Biiin. I. sir ? ne'er a whit. 
 
 Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth; 
 Tranio is changed into Lucentio 
 
 Bum. The better for hnn : 'Would I were so too ! 
 
 Tra. So would I, faith, boy, to have the next wish 
 after,— 
 That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest 
 
 daughter. 
 But, sirrah, — not for my sake, but your master's — 
 
 I advise 
 You use your manners discreetly in all kind of 
 
 companies. 
 When T am alone, why, then I am Tranio: 
 But in all places else, your master Lucentio. 
 
 Lac. Tranio, let's go:— 
 One thing more rests, that thyself execute; — 
 To make one among iliese wooers : If thou ask me 
 
 why, — ■ 
 Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty 
 
 [Extant, 
 
 1 Serv. My lord, you nod : you do not mind the 
 play. 
 
 Sly. i*f.v. by saint Anne, do L A good matter 
 surely; Conies there any more of it? 
 
 Page. My lord 'i'ls but began. 
 
 Sly. 'Tis a very excellent }}iece of tcork, madam 
 lady : ' H'ould 7 ivere done/ 
 
 SCENE n.— 'Before Hortensio's House. 
 Enter PKTniciiio atid Grumio, 
 
 Pet. Verona, for a while I take my leave, 
 To see my friends in Padua; but, of all, 
 
 i Tis enough. s Show, ajiiiear^nce. • Since 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 215 
 
 My best beloved and approved fiiend, 
 Hortensio; and, I trow, iliis is his Iiouse; — 
 Here, sirrah Gruinio : Ivnocli. I say. , 
 
 Oru. Knock, sir! wliom should 1 knocl<? is there 
 any man lias rclmsed your worship ! 
 
 Pel. Villain, I say, linock me here soundly. 
 
 Grii. Knoek you here, sirl why, sir, what am I 
 Bir, that I should knock you here, sir! 
 
 Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this ^ato. 
 And lap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. 
 
 Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome; I should 
 knock you first, 
 And then 1 know after, who comes by tlie worst. 
 
 Pet. Will it not be! 
 'Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll wring it; 
 I'll try how you can. sul.fd, and sing it. 
 
 [He wrings Gnu.Mio tij/ tlie ears. 
 
 Gru. Help, masters, help ! my master is mad. 
 
 Pet. Now, knock when 1 hid you: sirrah! villain! 
 Enter Hiihtensio. 
 
 Hor. How now! what's the matter] — My old 
 fiiend Grumio! and my i;ood friend Petruchio! — 
 How do you all at Verona ? 
 
 Pel. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the 
 fray ^ Con tutio il cnre bene trovatn, may 1 say. 
 
 Hor. Alta nostra ana liene venuto, 
 Motto tionorato signur mvi Petrucfiio. 
 Kise, Grumio. ri.se; we will compound this quarrel. 
 
 Gru. Nay, 'tis no matter, '.vhat he 'leges' in Latin. 
 — If this be not a laivl'ul cause for me to leave his 
 service,— Look you, sir, — he bid me knock him, 
 and rap him soundly, sir: Well, was it tit fiir a ser- 
 vantto use hismasterso ; being, perhaps, (for aught 
 I see,) two-anil-thirty, — a pip out ? 
 Whom would to (lod, I had well knockd at first, 
 Then had not Grumio come by the worst. 
 
 Pet. A seiLseless vitlain! — iiood Hortensio, 
 I bade the rascal knock upon your gale 
 And could not get him for iny heart to do it. 
 
 Gru. Knock at the gate? — O heavens! 
 Spake you not these words plain — Sirrah, knock 
 
 me licre. 
 Rap me ivett, knock me well, and knock me 
 
 soundly P 
 And come you now with — knocking at the gate? 
 
 Pet. ."^irrali, be gone, or talk not, 1 advise you. 
 
 Hor, Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge ; 
 Why, this is a heavy chance twixt him and you ; 
 Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. 
 And tell me now, sweet friend, — what happy gale 
 Blows you to Padua here, from old Verona ! 
 
 Pet. Such wind as scatters young men through 
 the world, 
 T" seek their fortunes further than at home. 
 Where small experience grows. But, in a few, 
 Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: — 
 Antonio, my fatiier, is deceased: 
 And I have thrust myself into this maze, 
 Haply to wive, and thrive as I best may : 
 Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, 
 And so am come abroad to see the world. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, shall 1 then come roundly to thee, 
 And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favored wife ! 
 Thou'dst thank me buta little for my counsel: 
 And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich. 
 And very rich: — but thou'rt too much my friend. 
 And I'll not wish thee to her. 
 
 Pet. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we, 
 Few words suffice : and therefore, if thou know 
 One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife 
 (As wealth is liurtheu of my wooing dance,) 
 Be .she as foul as was Florentius' love,» 
 As old as Sybil, and as curst and shrewd 
 As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse. 
 She moves me not, or not removes at least, 
 Affection's edge in me; were she as rough 
 As are the swelling Adriatic seas: 
 I come to wive it wealthily in Padua ; 
 If wealthily, then happily in Padua. 
 
 Gru. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what 
 his mind is : Why, give him gold enough and marry 
 liim to a puppet, oV an aglet baby;« or an old trot 
 with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she have as 
 many diseases as two and fifty horses; why noth- 
 ing comes amiss, so money comes withal. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, since we have stepp'd thus far in, 
 I will continue that I broach'd in jest. 
 
 3 Alleges. 
 6 See the story. No. 39, of "A Ttiousand T^olabU Tilings.^' 
 * A small image on the tag of a lace. 
 
 I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife 
 
 With wealth enough, and young, and beauteous: 
 
 Brought uji as best tiecomes a gentlewoman : 
 
 Her only fault (and that is fault enough) 
 
 Is, — that she is intolerably curst. 
 
 And shrewd, and froward; so beyond all measure, 
 
 I'hat, were my state far worscr than it is, 
 
 I would not wed her for a mine of gold. 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, peace; thou knowst not gold's 
 eUect :— 
 Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough ; 
 For I will board her, though she chide as loud 
 As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack. 
 
 Hor. Her ftither is Baptista Minola, 
 An aflable and courteous gentleman : 
 II er name is Katharina Mniola, 
 Rcnown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. 
 
 Pel. I know her father, though 1 know not her; 
 And he knew my deceas'd father well : — 
 I will not sleep. Hortensio, tilll see her; 
 .And therefore let me be thus bold with you, 
 To give you over at this first encounter. 
 Unless you will accompany me thither. 
 
 Gru. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humor 
 lasts. O' my word, an slic knew him as well as I 
 do, she would think scolding would do little good 
 upon him: She may, perhaps, call him half a score 
 knaves, or so: why, that's nothing: and he be-gin 
 once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks.' 1 II tell you what, 
 sir, — and she stand him but a little, he will throw a 
 figure in her f'.ice, and so disfigure her with it, that 
 she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat: 
 Vou know him not, sir. 
 
 Hiir. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee; 
 For in Baptista's keep my treasure is: 
 He hath the jewel of my life in hold, 
 His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca ; 
 And her withholds from me, and other more. 
 Suitors lo her, and rivals in my love : 
 Supposing it a thing impossible, 
 (For those defects I have before rehears'd,) 
 That ever Katharina will be woo'd ; 
 Tlierefore this orders hath Baptista ta'en : — 
 That none shall have access unto Bianca, 
 Till Katharine the curst ha\e got a husband. 
 
 Gru. K lit ha rine the curst ! 
 A title for a maid, of all titles the worst. 
 
 Hnr. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace; 
 And offer me disguis'd in sober robes, 
 'fo old Baptista as a schoolmaster 
 Well seen'' in music, to instruct Bianca: 
 That so I may by this device, at least. 
 Have leave and leisure to make love to her, 
 .\nd, unsuspected, court her by herself. 
 
 Eater Gukmio; ivitli him Lucentio, disguised, 
 with buolis under his ana. 
 
 Gru. Here's no knavery! See; to beguile the 
 old folks, how the young folks lay their heads to- 
 gether! Master, master, look about you: Who 
 goes there ! ha ! 
 
 Hor. Peace. G.rumio , 'tis the rival of my love : — 
 Petruchio, stand by a while. 
 
 Gru. A proper stripling, and an amorous ! 
 
 [Theij retire. 
 
 Gre. 0, very well ; I have perused the note. 
 Hark you, sir ; I'll have them fairly bound : 
 All books of love, see that at any hand : 
 And see you read no ol^er lectures to her; 
 Vou understand me: — over and beside 
 Signior Baptista's Uberality, 
 
 111 mend it with a l.irgess :— Take your papers too. 
 And let me have them very well perfum'd; 
 For she is sweeter than perfume itself. 
 To whom they go. What will you read to her"? 
 
 L'lC. Whate'cr I read to her, I'll plead for you, 
 As lor my patron, (st.ind you so a.ssurod,) 
 As firmly as yourself were still in place; 
 Vea, and (perhaps) with more successful words 
 ■Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. 
 
 Gre. O this learning ! what a thing it is ! 
 
 Gru. O this woodcock ! what an ass it is! 
 
 Pit. Peace, sirrah. 
 
 H(ir. Grumio, mum! — God save you, signior 
 Greniio! 
 
 Gre. And you're well met, signior Hortensio. 
 Trow you. 
 Whither I am going 1— To Baptista Minola. 
 
 * Abusive laugaago. e These measures. "i Versed. 
 
UIO 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act II 
 
 I protnisM to enquire carefully 
 
 Aboul a schoolmaster for titir Bianca: 
 
 And, by good Ibrtune, 1 Iiave lighted well 
 
 On this young man ; for learning and behavior. 
 
 Kit for iicr turn; well read in poetry, 
 
 And other books,— good ones 1 warrant you. 
 
 Hnr. 'Tis well: and I have met a gentleman, 
 Hath promis'd me to help me to another, 
 A fine musician, to instruct our mistress; 
 So shall I no whit be behind m duty 
 Tofair Bianca, so belov'd of me. 
 
 O'i-c. Belov'd of me,— and that my deeds shall 
 prove. , , ., 
 
 Gni. And that his bags shall prove. \Aside. 
 
 H'ir. Gremio 'tis now no time to vent our love : 
 Listen to ine, and if you speak me fair, 
 I'll toll you news indill'erent good for either. 
 Here is a gentleman, whom by chance 1 met, 
 Upon agreement from us to his liking, 
 \V ill unilertake to woo curst Katharine ; 
 Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. 
 
 Ore. So said, so done, is well : 
 Hortciisio, have you told him all her faults ? 
 
 Pel. I know she is an irksome, brawling scold ; 
 If that he all, masters, 1 hear no harm. 
 
 Gic No, sayst me so, friend 1 What country- 
 man 1 
 
 Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son: 
 My father dead, my fortune lives for me ; 
 And I do hope good days, and long, to see. 
 
 Gre. O. sir. such a life, with such a wife, were 
 strange : 
 But, if you have a stomach, to't, o' God s name ; 
 You siiall have me assisting you in all. 
 But will you woo this wild-cat; 
 
 P(,/. Wdl I live ! 
 
 Grii. Will he woo herl ay, or I'll hang her. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Pel. Why tame I hither, but to that intent 1 
 Think you.' a little din can daunt mine ears? 
 Have I not in ray time heard lions roar] 
 Have I not heard the sea, pull''d up witli winds. 
 Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat ! 
 Have 1 not heard great ordnance in the held, 
 And heav'ns artillery thunder in the skies ! 
 ilave I not in a pitched battle heard 
 Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang] 
 And do you tell me of a. woman's tongue ; 
 That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, 
 As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire "! 
 Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.' 
 
 g;.^. For he fears none. 
 
 {Aside. 
 
 Gre. Hortensio, hark ! 
 This gpiillcmanis happily arriv'd, 
 Mv mind presumes, for his own good, and ours. 
 
 'iliir. 1 promis'd we would be contributors, 
 And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er. 
 
 Gre. And so we will ; provided that he win her. 
 
 Gni. I would, I were as sure of a good dinner. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Enter Taiyio,braveIi/ apparelled; and 
 
 BlONDTLLO. 
 
 Ten. Gentlemen, God save you ! If I may be bold, 
 Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way 
 To the house of signior Baptista Minolal 
 
 Gre. He that has the two fair daughters :— is t he 
 {Aside to Tiiasio,! you mean ] 
 
 Tra. Even he. Biondello ! 
 
 Gre. Hark you, sir; You mean not her to 
 
 Tra. rcrhaps, him and her, sir; What have you 
 to do ] 
 
 Pet. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. 
 
 Tru. I love no cliiders, sir:— Biondello, let's 
 away. 
 
 Luc. Well begun, Tranio. [.isiile. 
 
 Hur. Sir, a word ere you go; — 
 Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, or nol 
 
 Tra. And if I be, sir, is it any offence ] 
 
 Gre. No ; if without more words, you wiU get 
 you hence. 
 
 Tra. Why, sir, I pray, arc not the. street! as free 
 For me, as for you ! 
 
 Gre. But so is not she. 
 
 Tra. For what reason. I beseech you ] 
 
 Gre. For this reason if you'll know, 
 
 That she's the choice love of sisnior Gremio. 
 
 Hiir. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio. 
 
 Tra. Softly, my master's ! if you be gentlemen, 
 Do me this right,— hear me with patience. 
 Baptista is a noble gentleman. 
 To whom my father is not all unknown ; 
 And, were his daughter fairer than she is. 
 She may more suitors have, and me for one. 
 Fair Le'da's daughter had a thousand wooers; 
 Then well one more may lair Bianca have : 
 And so she sliall; Lucentio shall make one, 
 Thougli Paris came, in hope to speed alone. 
 
 Gre. Wliat ! this gentleman will out-talk us all. 
 
 Luc. Sir, give him head ; I know he'll prove a 
 jade. ■ 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, to what end are all these wordsl 
 
 Hiir. Sir, let me be so bold as to ask you, 
 Did you ever yet see Baptisla's daughter 1 
 
 Tra. No, sir ; but hear I do, that he hath two ; 
 The one as famous for a scolding tongue. 
 As is the other for beauteous modesty. 
 
 Pel. Sir, sir, the first's for me ; let her go by. 
 
 Gre. Yea, leave that labor to great Hercules; 
 And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. 
 
 Pel. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth ;— 
 The youngest daugliter whom you hearken fur, 
 Her father keeps from all access of suitors ; 
 And will not promise her to any man. 
 Until the eldest sister first be wed : 
 The younger then is free, and not before. 
 
 Tra. If it be so, sir, that you are the man 
 Must stead us all, and me among the rest ; 
 And if you break the ice, and do this feat,— 
 Achieve the elder, set the younger free 
 For our access,— whose hap sliall be to have her. 
 Will not so graceless be, to bo ingrate. 
 
 Hor. Sir, you say well, and well you do con- 
 ceive: 
 And since you do profess to he a suitor. 
 You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, 
 To whom we all rest generally beholden. 
 
 Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack : in sign wliereof, 
 Please ye we may contrive this afternoon. 
 And quaff carouses to our mistress' health ; 
 And do as adversaries do in law,— 
 Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. 
 Gru. Bion. O excellent motion! Fellows,' let's 
 
 be gone. 
 Ht>7: The motion's good indeed, and be it so;— 
 Pctruchio, I shall be your ben venulo. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^1 Room in Baptista's House. 
 Enter Katiiaiiixa and Biauca. 
 
 Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong 
 you rsel f. 
 To make a bondmaid and a slave of me : 
 That I disdain ; but for these other gawds." 
 Unbind my hands. 111 pull them off myself, 
 Y'ea, all my raiment, to ray petticoat ; 
 Or, what you will command me, will I do, 
 So well I "know ray duty to my elders. 
 
 ICulli. Of all thy suitors, here 1 charge thee, tell 
 Whom thou lov'st best: see thou dissemble not. 
 
 8 Fri^lit boys with bugbears. 
 
 8 Trifling oniameuta. 
 
 Bian. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive, 
 I never yet beheld that special i'ace 
 Whicli 1 could fancy more than any other. 
 
 Kiilh. Minion, thou licst ; Is't not Hortensio ] 
 
 Bian. If )'oa alTect^ him, sister, here I swear, 
 I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him. 
 
 Katk. O then, belike, you fancy riches more; 
 You will have Gremio to keep you fair. 
 
 Biiin. Is it for him you do envy me so i 
 Nay, then you jest ; and now I well perceive. 
 You have but jested with rae all this while : 
 I prythce sister Kate, untie my hands. 
 
 Kallt. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. 
 
 ( Strikes her 
 1 Companions. ^ Love. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 217 
 
 Enter Baptista. 
 Bap* Why, how now, dame ! whence grows this 
 
 insolence ? 
 
 Bianca, stand aside ; — poor girl ! she weeps; — 
 Go ply Ihy needle ; nu-ddle not with her. — 
 Fur shame, thou hiidiiigs ufa devilish spirit, 
 Why dost thoa wrong her that did ne'er wrong 
 
 thee ] 
 When did she cross thee with a bitter word 1 
 Kalh. Her silence tlouts me, and I'll be reveng'd. 
 \ Flies after Bianca, 
 Bap. What, in my sight? — Bianca, get thee in. 
 
 Exit BiAscA. 
 Kuth. Will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see, 
 She is your ireasure, she must have a husband ; 
 I musi dance barefoot on her wedding-day, 
 And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell. 
 Talk not to me ; I wi!i go sit and weep, 
 Till I can find occasion of revenge. 
 
 [Exit Katharixa. 
 Bap. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I ? 
 But who cttmes here ! 
 
 Enter Grf.mio, iviik Luckxtio in the habit of a 
 
 mean man ; Pi/rnfcHin, wilh Houtknsio as a 
 musician; and 'Vnxsio, with ]iioyD£.Li.o bear- 
 ing a iute and books. 
 
 Gre. Good-morrow, neighbor Baptista. 
 
 Bap. Good-morrow, ncij^hbor Gremio: God save 
 you, gentlemen ! 
 
 Pd. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a 
 daughter 
 Calld Katba'rina, fair, and virtuous ? 
 
 Bap. I have a daughter, sir, calld Katliarina. 
 
 Grc. Vou are too blunt, go to it orderly. 
 
 Pet. You wrong mc, signior Gremio; give me 
 leave. — 
 I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, 
 That, — hearing of her beauty, and her wit, 
 Her airability, and bashful modesty, 
 Her wondrous qualities, and mild behavior, — 
 Am bold to show myself a forward guest 
 Within your house, to make mine eye the witness 
 Of that report which I so oft have heard. 
 And, for an entrance to my entertainment, 
 1 do present you with a man of mine, 
 
 [Freicnti/i^ HonTExsio. 
 Cunning in music, and tlie mathematics, 
 Tn instruct iier fully m those sciences, 
 Wiureof. I know, she is not ignorant : 
 Accept of him, or else you do me wrong ; 
 His name is Licio, born in Mantua. 
 
 Bap. You're welcome, sir ; and he, for your good 
 . sake : 
 But for my daughter Katharine,— this I know, 
 She is not for your turn, the more my grief. 
 
 Pcf. I see you do not mean to part with her ; 
 Or else you like not of my company. 
 
 Bap. Mistake me not, 1 speak but as I find. 
 Whence are you, sir! what may I call your name? 
 
 Pet. Petruchio isniy name ; Antonio's son, 
 A man well known throughout all Italy. 
 
 Bap. I know him well : you are welcome for 
 his sake. 
 
 Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, 1 pray, 
 Let us that are poor petitioners, speak too ; 
 Baccare!* you are marvellous forward. 
 
 Pet. 0, pardon me, signior Gremio ; I would fain 
 he domg. 
 
 Gre. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your 
 
 wooing. 
 
 Neighboi, this is a gill very grateful, I am sure of 
 it. To express the like kuidness myself, that have 
 been more kindly beholden to you than any, I free- 
 ly give unto you this young scholar [Presenting 
 LutKNTio,] that hath been long studying at 
 llheims: as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other 
 languages, as the other in music and mathematics: 
 iiis name is Cambio ; pray, accept his service. 
 
 Bap. A thousand thauUs, signior Gremio; wel- 
 come, good Cambio.— But, gentle sir,' [To Tra- 
 Nio,] methinks you walk like a stranger; May I 
 be so bold to know the cause of your coming? 
 
 Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own ; 
 That, being a stranger in this city here. 
 Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, 
 Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous. 
 Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, 
 
 'A worthless woman. 
 
 4 Proverbial esclamation then in use. 
 
 In the preferment of the eldest sister : 
 
 This liberty is all that I request. — 
 
 That, upon knowledge of my parentage, 
 
 I may have welcome 'mongst itie rest tiiat woo. 
 
 And free access and favur as the rest. 
 
 And, toward the education of your daughters, 
 
 I here bestow a simple instrument, 
 
 And this small packet of Greek and Latin books: 
 
 If you accept them, then their worth is great. 
 £ap. Lucentio is your name? of whence, I prayl 
 Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. 
 Bap, A mighty man of Pisa ; by report 
 
 I know him well : you are very welcome, sir. — 
 
 Take you \Tti Hnu.] the lute, and you ITo Rue. 
 the set of books, 
 
 You shall go see your pupils presently. 
 
 Holla! within ! 
 
 Enter a Servant, 
 
 Sirrah, lead 
 
 These gentiemen to my daughters; and tell them 
 both 
 
 These are. their tutors ; bid them use them well. 
 [Exit Servant, irith Hortessio, Lucen^tio, 
 
 and BlONDF.I.LO.] 
 
 We will go walk a little in the orchard. 
 
 And then to dmner : You are passing welcome, 
 
 And so I pray you all to ihmk yourselves. 
 
 Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, 
 And every day I cannot come to woo. 
 You knew my father well ; and in him, me, 
 Left solely heir to all his lands and goods. 
 Which I havebeltord rather tlian decreas'd : 
 I'lien tell me. — if I get yourdaughter s love, 
 What dowry shall 1 have with her to wife? 
 
 Bap. After my death, the one-half of my lands; 
 And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns. 
 
 Ptt. And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of 
 Her widowhood. — be it that she survive me, — 
 In all my lands and leases whatsoever : 
 Let specialities be therefore diawn between us. 
 That covenaivts may be kept on eitJier h<and. 
 
 Bap. Ay, wlien the special thing is well obtain'd, 
 This is. — her love; for that is all in all. 
 
 Pet. Why. that is nothing ; for I tell you, father, 
 I am as peremptory as she proud-minded ; 
 And where two raging (ires meet together, 
 They do consume the thing that feeds their fury : 
 Though little fire grows great with little wind. 
 Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all* 
 So I to her, and so she yields to me ; 
 For I am rougli, and woo not like a babe. 
 
 Bajj. Well ma yst thou woo, and happy be thy 
 spectl ! 
 But be tiiou arm'd for some unhappy words- 
 
 Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for 
 winds, 
 That shake not, though tiiey blow perpetually. 
 
 Re-enter IIoutensio, with his ttead l)rok£n, 
 
 Baj)' How now, my friend? why dost tliou look 
 so pale ? 
 
 Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. 
 
 Bap. VVliat, will my daughter prove a good mu- 
 sician? 
 
 Hor. I tliink she'll sooner prove a soldier; 
 Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. 
 
 Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the 
 lute? 
 
 Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke tlie lute to 
 me. 
 I did but tell her. she mistook her frets," 
 And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering ; 
 When, with a most impatient devilish spirit. 
 Frets call you thes-e? quoth she : Pll fume wUk 
 
 them: 
 And. with that word, she struck me on the head, 
 And tiirough the instrument my pate made way; 
 And there I stood amazed tor a while. 
 As on a pillory, looking through the lute 
 While she did call me — rascal tiddler. 
 And — twangling Jack ; with twenty such vile terms, 
 As she had studied to misuse me so. 
 
 Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench ; 
 I Ipve her ten times more tlian e'er 1 did : 
 O, how I long to have some chat with her ! 
 
 Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited : 
 Proceed in practice with my younger daughter ; 
 She's apt to learn, and thankl'ul for good turns. — 
 
 B A fret in music is the stop which causes or regulates 
 the vibration of the string. 
 
218 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Signior retrucliio, will you ^'O with us ; 
 Or slwll 1 senJ aiy danghler Kale to you 1 
 Vd. 1 pray you do; I will attend her here, — 
 
 lEjjeiiiil Baptista, Gkemio, Tuanio, 
 
 (.TjrfHonTKNSlO. 
 
 And woo her with ^ome spirit when she comes. 
 
 Say, that she rail: Why, tncn I'll tell her plain, 
 
 She sings as sweetly as a ni^htinj^ale; 
 
 Say, that she frown : I'll say, she looks as clear 
 
 As morning roses newly washed with dew; 
 
 Say, she will he mute, and will not speak a word ; 
 
 Then I'll commend her volubility. 
 
 And say— she uttereth piercing eloquence: 
 
 It' sfte do hid me pack, I II give her thanks. 
 
 As though she bid me stay by her a week; 
 
 If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day 
 
 When I sh'all ask the banns, and when be married. — 
 
 But here she comes ; and now, Fetruchio, speak. 
 
 Enter KATHitiixA. 
 Good-niorrnw, Kate ; for that's Jour name, I hear. 
 
 Kuih. Well have you heard, but something hard 
 of hearing ; 
 They tall me — Katharine, that do talk of me. 
 
 PtI. Vou lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain 
 Kate, 
 And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst ; 
 Hut Kale, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
 Kate of Kate-liall, my super-dainty Kate, 
 For dainties are all cates; and therefore, Kate, 
 Take this of me, Kate of my consolation ; — 
 Hearing thy mildness prais d in every town. 
 Thy virtues spoke iif, and thy beauty sounded, 
 (Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,) 
 Myself ain mov d to woo thee for my wife. 
 
 Kath. Mov d ! in good time : let him that mov'd 
 you hither. 
 Remove you hence : I knew you at the first, 
 You were a moveable. 
 
 Pel. Why, what's a moveable ! 
 
 Kath. A joint-stool. 
 
 Pet. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. 
 
 Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. 
 
 I'd. Women are made to bear, and so are you, 
 
 Kuth. No such jade, sir, as you, if me you mean. 
 
 Pel. Alas, good Kate ! I will not burden thee : 
 For, knowing thee to be hut young and hght,— 
 
 Kalh. Too light for such a swam as you to catch ; 
 And yet as heavy as my weight should be. 
 
 Prf. Should be ! should buz. 
 
 Katli. WeU ta'en, and like a buzzard. 
 
 Pd. O, slow-winged turtle ! shall a buzzard take 
 thee ? 
 
 Kfitli. Ay, for a turtle ; as he takes a buzzard. 
 
 Pet. Con'ie, come, you wasp ; f liiitli, you are too 
 angry. 
 
 Kath. If I be waspish, best beware of my sting. 
 
 Pet. My remedy is then to pluck it out. 
 
 Kuth. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. 
 
 I'd. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear 
 his sting '! 
 In his tail. 
 
 JCu/.'f- In his tongue. 
 
 Pet. Whose tongue 7 
 
 Kalh. Y'ours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell. 
 
 Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail.' nay 
 come again. 
 Good Kate ; I am a gentleman. 
 
 Kath. That I'll try. 
 
 [Strilcing him. 
 
 Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. 
 
 Kath. So may you lose your arms: 
 If you strike me, you are no gentleman ; 
 And if no gentleman, why, then no arms. 
 
 Pel. A herald, Kate' (i, put me in thy books. 
 
 Kalh. What is your crest I a coxcomb 1 
 
 P' I. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. 
 
 Kath. No cock of mine, you crow loo hke a 
 craven.6 
 
 Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look 
 so sour. 
 
 Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. 
 
 Pet. Why here's no crab: and therefore look 
 not sour. 
 
 Kate. There is, there is. 
 
 Pet. Then show it me. 
 
 Kath. Had I a glass, I would. 
 
 Pel. What, you mean my face? 
 
 Kath. Well aim'd of such a young one. 
 
 6 A degenerate cock. 
 
 Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for 
 you. 
 
 Kath. Vet you are wither'd. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis with cares. 
 
 Kath. I care not. 
 
 Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate ; in sooth, you 'scapo 
 not so. 
 
 Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry ; let me go. 
 
 Pet. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle. 
 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and sullen, 
 And now I find report a very liar ; 
 For thou art pleasant, gameso;ue, passing cour 
 
 teous ; 
 But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flow 
 
 ers. 
 Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, 
 Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ; 
 Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ; 
 But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers ; 
 With gentle conference, soft and atfable. 
 Why does the world report, that Kate doth limp? 
 
 slanderous world ! Kate, liiie the hazel-twig. 
 Is straight and slender; and as brown in hue 
 .\s hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. 
 O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt. 
 
 Kuth. Go, fool, and whom thou keepst command. 
 
 Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove, 
 As Kate this chamber with her princely gait 1 
 O, be thou I>ian, and let hei be Kate ; 
 .\nd then let Kate he chaste, and Dian sportful ! 
 
 Kath. Where did you study all this goodly 
 speech ? 
 
 Pel. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. 
 
 Kalh. A witty mother! witless else her son. 
 
 Pet. Am I not wise? 
 
 Kath. Yes; keep you warm 
 
 Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy 
 bed: 
 And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
 Thus in plain terms:— Your father hath consented 
 That you shall be my wife; your dow'ry 'greed on; 
 .■Vnd, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
 Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; 
 For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty. 
 (Thy beauty, that doth make me lite thee well,) 
 Thou must be married to no man but me : 
 For I am he, am born to tame you, Kate ; 
 And bring you from a wild-cat to a Kate 
 Conformable, as other household Kates. 
 Here comes your father ; never make denial ; 
 
 1 must and will have Katharine to my wife. 
 
 Re-enter Baptista, Giiemio, and Thasio. 
 
 Bap. Now, 
 Signior Petruchio: How speed you with 
 My daughter ? 
 
 Pet. How but well, sir 1 liow but well ? 
 
 It were impossible I should speed amiss. 
 
 Bap. W'hy, hovv now, daughter Katharine ? in 
 your dumps? 
 
 Kath. Call you me, daughter? now I promise you, 
 You have showd a tender fatherly regard, 
 'Fo wish me .wed to one-half lunatic ; 
 A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack, 
 That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. 
 
 Pet. p'ather, 'tis thus, — yourself and all the world. 
 That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her ; 
 If she be curst, it is for policy: 
 For she's not froward, but modest as the dove; 
 She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; 
 For patience she will prove a second Grissel; 
 And Roman Lucrece tor her chastity : 
 And to conclude,— we have 'greed so well together, 
 ■That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. 
 
 Kath. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. 
 
 Gre. Hark, Petruchio ! she says, she'll see thee 
 hang'd first. 
 
 Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good 
 night our part f 
 
 Pel. Be patient, gentlemen ! I choose her tot 
 myself; 
 If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you? 
 'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone. 
 That she shall still be curst in company. 
 I tell you 'tis incredible to believe 
 How much she loves mo : (), the kindest Kale! 
 She hung about my neck ; and kiss on kiss 
 Slie vied' so fast, protesting oath on oath, 
 
 iTo Tye and revyo were terms at cards, now superseded 
 by the Avord brag. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 219 
 
 That in a twink she won me to hi^r love. 
 (I, you are novices ! 'tis a world lo see,» 
 How tame, when men and women are alone, 
 A meacock" wretch can make the eurstest slirew. 
 (iive rae thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, 
 To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day ;— 
 rrovjje the feast, father, and bid tiie guests; 
 1 wdl be sure, my Katherine shall be fine. 
 Bup. I know not what to say; give me your 
 hands ; 
 God send you joy, Petruchio! *tis a match. 
 Grc. Tiu. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses. 
 Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu ; 
 I will to Venice. Sunday comes apace : 
 We will have rings, and things, and tine array ; 
 And kiss me, Kate, we will bi; married oSunday. 
 {Exeuiil Pktkucuio and Katharina, severally. 
 Gre. Was ever match clappd up so suddenly ? 
 Bap. 'Faith, gentleman, now I play a merchant's 
 part, 
 And venture madly on a desperate mart. 
 
 Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you : 
 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. 
 Bup. The gain I seek is — quiet in the match. 
 Gre. .N'o doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. 
 But now, Haptista, to your younger daughter ; — 
 Now is the day we long have looked for; 
 I am your neighbor, and was suitor first. 
 
 Tra. And I am one, that love liianca more 
 Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess. 
 Gre. Youngling ! thou canst not love so dear as I. 
 Tra. Grey-beard ! thy love doth freeze. 
 Gre. But thine doth fry. 
 
 Skipper, stand back ; 'lis age that nourisheth. 
 Tra. But youth in ladies' eyes that llourisheth. 
 Bup. Content you, gentlemen ; 111 compound 
 this strife ; 
 'Tis deeds must win the prize ; and he, of both, 
 That can assure my daughter greatest dower 
 Shall have Biancas love.^ 
 Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her ? 
 
 Gre. First, as you know, mj' house within the city 
 Is richly furnished with plate and gold ; 
 Basons, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands ; 
 I\Iy hangings all of Tyrian tapestry : 
 In ivory eoller.s I have stutTd my crowns; 
 ]u cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,' 
 Costly apparel, tents, and canopies. 
 Fine linen, Turkey cushions, boss'd with pearl, 
 Valance of Venice gold in needle-work, 
 Pewter .and brass, and all things that belong 
 To house, or housekeeping : then, at my farm, 
 I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, 
 Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls. 
 And all things answe^ible to this portion. 
 
 Myself am struck in years, I must confess; 
 And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers, 
 If whilst I live, she will be only mine. 
 
 Tra. That only came well in^^ Sir, list to me; 
 
 I am my father's heir, and only son; 
 
 If I may have your daughter to my wile, 
 
 FU leave her houses three or four as good. 
 
 Within rich Pisa walls, as any one 
 
 Old signior Gremio has in Padua ; 
 
 Besides two thousand ducats by the year. 
 
 Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. — ■ 
 
 What, have I pinch'd you, signior (ircmio ! 
 
 Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land 
 My land amounts not to so much in all : 
 That she shall have ; besides an argosy,' 
 
 That now is lying in Marseilks' road ; 
 
 What, have I chok'd you with an argosy 1 
 
 Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no Jess 
 Than three great argosies; besides two galliasies, 
 And twelve tight gallics: these I will assure her. 
 And twice as much, whale'r thou oilier st next. 
 
 Gre. Nay, I have ofler'd all, 1 have no mure ; 
 And she can have no more than all 1 have ; 
 If you like me, she shall have me and mine. 
 
 Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from ail the 
 world. 
 By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied. 
 
 Blip. I must confess, your otfer is the best: 
 And, let ynnr father malie her the assurance, 
 She is your own ; else, you must pardon me: 
 It you should die before him, Where's Iier dower 7 
 
 Tra. That's but a cavil ; he is old, I young. 
 
 Gre. .\nd may not young men die as well lis old ! ■ 
 Bap. Well, gentlemen, 
 I am thus resolv'd : — On Sunday next you know. 
 My daughter Katharine is to be married ; 
 Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca 
 Be bride to you, if you make this assurance; 
 If not, to signior Gremio : 
 .\nd so I take my leave, and thank you both. 
 
 I Exit. 
 
 Gre. .\dieu, good neighbor. — Now I fear thee not; 
 Sirrah, young gamester, your lather were a fool 
 To give thee all, and in his waning age, 
 Set foot under thy table : Tut ! a toy! 
 An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit. 
 
 Tra. A vengeance on your crafty, wilhej'd hide ! 
 Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.' 
 ■Tis in my head to do my master good : 
 I see no reason, but suppos'd Lutentio 
 Must get a father, call'd — sujipos'd Vicentio ; 
 .\nd that's a wonder : fathers, commonly, 
 Do get their children ; but in Ihis case of wooing, 
 A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. 
 
 VExit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— .-1 Room in Baptista's House. 
 Enter Luckntio, Hobtexsio, and Biaxci. 
 
 Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: 
 Have you so soon forgot the entertainment 
 Her sister Katharine welcom'd you withal 1 
 
 Hot. But, wrangling pedant, this is 
 The patroness of heavenly harmony ; 
 Then give me leave to have prerogative ; 
 And when in music we have spent an hour. 
 Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. 
 
 Luc. Preposterous ass ! that never read so far 
 To know the cause why music was ordain'd ! 
 Was it not, to refresh the mind of man. 
 After his studies, or his usual pain ] 
 Then give nie leave to road philosophy. 
 And while I pause, serve in your harmony. 
 
 Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. 
 
 Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, 
 To strive for that which rcsteth in my choice : 
 I am no breeching scholar' in the schools ; 
 I'll not be tied to hours, nor "pointed times. 
 But learn my lessons as I please myself. 
 And to cut oil all strife, here sit we down:— 
 
 • It is well worth seeing. b A dastardly creature. 
 
 1 CoveriDgs for ln^ds; now called counterpanes. 
 
 2 No schoolboy, liable to be whipped. 
 
 Take you your instrument, play you tlic whiles; 
 His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd. 
 
 Jlor. You'U leave his lecture when 1 am in tunet 
 [To Bianca. — lloiiTExsio retires. 
 
 Luc. That will be never; tune your instrument. 
 
 Bian. Where left we last '! 
 
 Luc. Here, madam : 
 Hue ibat Siniois; Idc est Sigiia tcllus: 
 Hie steterat Priami regia cetsa senis. 
 
 Bian. Construe them. 
 
 Lac. Hue ibat, as I told you before, — Simois, I 
 am Lucentio. — hicest, son unto Viiuentio of Pisa, — 
 Higeia teltus, disguised thus to get your love ; — 
 Hie stdmit, and that Lucentio that comes a woo- 
 ing, — Priami, is my man Tranio, — regia. bearing 
 my port,— c(/sa stnis, that we might beguile the old 
 pantaloon.* 
 
 Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. 
 
 [lieturning. 
 
 Bian. Let's he.ir ; [Hokte.nsiu plays. 
 
 O fye ! the treble jars. 
 
 Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. 
 
 Biem. Now let me see if I can construe it : Hac 
 ibat Siynois, I know you not; hie est Sigeia teltus, 
 
 3 A largo merchant-ship. 
 
 * A vessel of l)urthen worked both with sails and oars. 
 
 s The highest cflrd. 
 
 *! The old cully in Italian farces. 
 
220 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act ni. 
 
 I trust you not; — Hie stcterat Priami, take heed 
 he hear us not; — regia, presume not; — ce/sa setiis, 
 despair not. 
 Hui-. Madam, 'tis now in tune. 
 Luc. All but the base. 
 
 Hur. The base is right ; 'tis the base linave that 
 jars. 
 How fiery and forward our pedant is! 
 Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: 
 Feitciscide,i I'll watch you better yet. 
 Bill!!. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. 
 Liic. Mistrust it not; for sure, iKaridcs 
 Was Ajax, — call'd so from his grandfather. 
 Bian. I must believe my master ; else I promise 
 you, 
 I shouhl be arguing: still upon that doubt: 
 But let it rest. — Now, Licio. to you : — 
 Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray. 
 That I have been thus pleasant vv'itb yo'u hitb. 
 Hur. Vou may go walk, \Ta Lucentio.I and 
 give me leave awhile: 
 My lessons make no music in three parts. 
 
 Luc. Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, 
 And watch \vithal ; for. but I be dcceiv'd, 
 Our fine musician groweth amorous. [Aside. 
 
 Hoy, Madam, before you touch the instrument, 
 To learn the order of niy tinkering, 
 I nmst begin the rudiments of art ; 
 To tcarh you gamut in a briefer sort, 
 More Pleasant, pithy, and ertectual. 
 Than halli been taught by any of my trade : 
 And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. 
 Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. 
 Hiir. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. 
 Bian. [Reads.] Gamut / am, the ground of all 
 accord, 
 A re. to plead Hortensio^s prissi/m.- 
 B mi. Bianca. Inke liini fnr t/iii lord, 
 
 C taut. Iliot lores loilli alt uij''elion; 
 n sol re, oiieclitf. '«'" "otes have I; 
 K la mi, sfioiv pitti. or I die. 
 Call you this— gamut ? tut ! I like it not : 
 Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice, 
 To change true rules for odd inventions. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your 
 books. 
 And help to dress your sister's chamber up; 
 You know, to-morrow is the wedding day. 
 Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both ; 'I must be 
 gone. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant. 
 
 Luc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to 
 „ stay. [Exit. 
 
 Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant ; 
 Methinks. he looks as IJiougn he were in love : 
 Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble. 
 To cast Ihy wand'ring eyes on every stale." 
 Seize thee, that list : If once I find thee ranging, 
 Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. 
 
 [Exit. 
 SCENE n.—Brfure Baptista's House. 
 
 Enter Bapttsta, Ghemio, Tratxio. Kathaiiixa. 
 Bianca, Luce.ntio, and Attendants. 
 
 Bap. Signior Lucentio, [To Tbanio.1 this Is the 
 ■pointed day 
 That ICatbarine and Telruchio should be married, 
 And yet we hear not of our son-in-law: 
 What will be said 1 what mockery will it be. 
 To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends 
 To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage? 
 What says Lucentio to this shame of ours ! 
 Katti. No shame but mine: 1 must, forsooth, be 
 forced 
 To give my hand, oppos'd as-ainst my heart, 
 Unto a mnd-brain rudesby, full of spleen:' 
 Who wood in haste, and means to wed at lei- 
 sure. 
 I told you, J, he was a frantic fool, 
 Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior: 
 And, to be noted for a merry man. 
 Hell woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage. 
 Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banns; 
 Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd. 
 Now must the world point at poor Katharine, 
 And say,— Lo, there t'.i mod Pctrnchiii's wife, 
 If it would please him come and marry tier. 
 •> Pedant. ■ Bait, decoy. a Caprice, inconstancy. 
 
 Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Faptista, too, 
 Upon my life, Petruchio means but well. 
 Whatever f.>rtune stays him from his word : 
 Though he be blunt, I Know him passing wise; 
 Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. 
 
 Kath. 'Would Katharine had never seen him 
 though ! 
 
 [Exit, iveeidng.folhored by Bianca, and others. 
 
 Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; 
 For such an injury would tcx a saint. 
 Much more a shrew of thy impatient humor. 
 
 Enter BroxoKLLO. 
 
 Bion. JTaster, master! news, old news, and such 
 news as you never heard of! 
 
 B ip. Is it new and old too ? how may that be 1 
 
 Bion. Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's 
 coming I 
 
 Bop. Is he come? 
 
 Bixm. Why, no, sir. 
 
 B'fp. What then ? 
 
 Binn, He is coming. 
 
 Bop. When will he be here ? 
 
 BituK When he stands where I am, and sees you 
 there. 
 
 Tro. But, say, what :— To thine old news. 
 
 Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat 
 and an old jerkin ; a pair of old breeches, thrice 
 turned, a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, 
 one buckled, another laced ; an old rusty sword 
 ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, 
 and chapeless; with two broken points: His horse 
 hipped with an old molhy saddle, the stirrups of no 
 kindred : besides, possessed with the glanders, and 
 like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, 
 infected with the fashinns.i full of wind-galls, sped 
 with .spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of 
 the fives,' stark spoiled with the staugcrs, begiiawn 
 with the hots ; swayed in Ihe back, and shoulder- 
 sboiton; ne'er-legg'd before, and with a lialf-check'd 
 hil, and a head-stall of sheep's leather; which, being 
 restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been 
 oflen burst, and now repaired with knots: one girt 
 six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velure,' 
 which hath two letters for her name, fairly set 
 down in studs, and here and there pieced with 
 packthread. 
 
 Bap. Who comes with him .' 
 
 Bion. 0, sir. his lackev. for all the world capar- 
 isoned like the hor.se; with a linen .stock* on one 
 leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered 
 with a red and blue list ; an old hat, and The humor 
 of fort p fan cits prick'd in't fir a feather: a monster, 
 a very monster in apparel ; and not like a Christian 
 footboy, or a genllemans lackey. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis some odd humot pricks him to this 
 fashion ; 
 Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd. 
 Bop. I am glad he is come, howsoe'er he comes, 
 Bion. Why, sir, he conies not. 
 Bop. Didst thou not say, he comes ? 
 
 Bion. Who! that Petruchio came? 
 Bop. Ay, that Petruchio came. 
 Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with him 
 on his back. 
 Bop. Why, that's all one. 
 
 Bi(ni. Nay, by saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, 
 A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not 
 many. 
 
 Enter PETnrcnin and GnrMio. 
 
 Pit. Come, where be these gallants ? who is at 
 home? 
 
 Bop. You are welcome, sir. 
 
 Pri. And }-ct I come not well. 
 
 Bap. And yet you halt not. 
 
 'Pr<i. Not so well apparell'd 
 
 As I wish you were. 
 
 Pet. Were it better I should rush in thus. 
 But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride?— 
 How does my father?— Gentles, methinks you frown: 
 .\nd wherefore gaze this goodly company; 
 As if Ihey saw some wondrous monume'nt, 
 Some comet, or unu.sual prodigy ? 
 
 Berp. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding- 
 day: 
 First were we sad, fearing you would not come; 
 Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. 
 
 ■ Farcy. « Vivcp ; n distemper in horses. 
 
 ' Velvet. « Stocking. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 221 
 
 Fyc ! dofF this habit, shame to your estate, 
 An eye-sori? to our suieniii festival. 
 
 Tea. And teU us, wliat occasion of import 
 Hath all so long detamed you from your wui?, 
 And sent you hiUter so uiiliKe yourself! 
 
 Pe/. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear; 
 Sufliceth, I am come to keep my word, 
 Though in some part enlbrced to digress; 
 Which, at more leisure, L will so excuse 
 As you shall well be satisfied withal. 
 But, wiiere is Kate \ I stay loo long from her; 
 The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. 
 
 Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent 
 robes ; 
 Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. 
 
 Vtl. Not 1, beheve mc; thus 111 visit her. 
 
 Brtjy. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. 
 
 i'ct. Good sooth, even thus ; therefore have done 
 witii words ; 
 To me she's married, not unto my clothes : 
 Could I repair what she will wear in me. 
 As I can cnani;e these poor accoutrements, 
 'Twerp well for Kate, and better for myself. 
 But what a fool am I, lo chat with you. 
 When 1 should bul t^ood-morrow to my bride. 
 And seal the title with a lovely kiss! 
 
 [Exeunt Pkthucuxo. iiav>iio,aTid BioxnELLO. 
 
 Tj-u. He hath some meaninj; in his mad attire: 
 AVe will persuade him, bo it possible, 
 To put on better ere he go to church. 
 
 Blip. I'll after him, and see the event of this. 
 
 Tra. But, sir, to lier love concernetli us to add 
 Her fathers likinjj : Which to bring to pass. 
 As I before imparted to your worship, 
 1 am to get a man, — whate er he be. 
 It skills* not much; we'd I'lt him to our turn, — 
 And he shall be Vinccnlio of I'isa ; 
 And make assurance, here in Padua, 
 Of greater sums than I have promised. 
 So shall you quietly enjoy your hope, 
 And marry sweet IJianca with consent. 
 
 Luc. Were it not thai my fellow-schoolmaster 
 Doth watch Bianca's stejis so narrowly, 
 'Twere good, metbinlis. to steal our marriage; 
 Which once perform'd. let all the world say. — no, 
 I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. 
 
 Tra. That by decrees we mean to look into. 
 And watch our vantUfre in this business : 
 We'll over-reach the grey-beard, Greniio; 
 The narrow-prying father, Miiiola; 
 Theqiiainf^ musician, amorous Licio; 
 All for my master's sake, Lucentio. — 
 
 Rc-cnl2r Ghejiio. 
 
 Signior Gremio, came you from the church ! 
 
 Gre. As willingly as e'er 1 came from school. 
 
 Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming 
 home ! 
 
 Grc. A bridegroom say you! 'tis a groom, indeed. 
 A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. 
 
 Tra. Curster than she 1 why, 'tis impossible, 
 
 Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. 
 
 Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. 
 
 Gre. Tut ! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him. 
 I'll tell you, sir I.ucentio: When the priest 
 Should ask — if Katharine .should be his wile. 
 All, by gogs-U'oan.i, quoth he ; and swore so loud. 
 That, all amazed, the ])riest let fall the book : 
 And, as he stooped again to take it up. 
 The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff, 
 Thatdown fell priest and book, and book and priest ; 
 Nijto take /hem up, quoth he, ifanij lii/. 
 
 Tra. What said the wench, when he arose a^ain 7 
 
 G;-f. Trembled and shook; for why, he stainp'd, 
 and swoie. 
 As i£ the vicar meant to cozen him. 
 But after many ceremonies done. 
 He calls for wine : — A health, quoth he ; as if 
 He had been aboard carousing, to his mates 
 After a storm :— Qualf'd olf the muscadel,' 
 And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ; 
 Having no other reason, — 
 But that his beard grew thin and hungerly. 
 And secra'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. 
 This done, he took the bride about the neck ; 
 
 t Jlatters. s Strange. 
 
 ' It was the custom for the company presi-nt to drink 
 tvinc immediately after the marriage ceremony. 
 
 And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, 
 That, at the part.ng, all tne church did echo. 
 J, seeing tliis, came thence tor very shame; 
 .\nd, alter me, 1 know the route is coming ; 
 Such a mad marriage never was before; 
 Hark, hark ! 1 hear the minstrels play. {Music. 
 
 Enter Petiiicuio, KATH.ir.iXA, Biaxca, Bap. 
 TisiA, Huartxsio, Cttu.'vtio, and Train. 
 
 Fet. Gentlemen and friends, 1 thank you for 
 y our pains ; 
 I kn.iw, you tnink to dine with me to-day, 
 And have [irepar'd great store of wedding cheer; 
 But so It is, my haste doth cull me hence, 
 .\iid therelore Here I mean to take my leave. 
 
 Bap. Is't possible, you will away to-night ? 
 
 I'et. I must away lo-day, belore night 'come: — 
 iMake it no wonder; if you knew my" business. 
 You would entreat me ratlier go than stay; 
 And, honest company, 1 tliank you all, 
 'I'hat have uetieiu ine give away myself 
 To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife; 
 IJiiie witn my lather, drink a health lo me ; 
 for 1 must Hence : and larew ell to you all. 
 
 Tra. Let us entreat you slay till after dinner. 
 
 i'et. It may not be. 
 
 Gre. Let me entreat you. 
 
 I'el. It cannot be. 
 
 Kulli. Let me entreat vou. 
 
 ftl. 1 am content. 
 
 Katti. Are you content to stay ! 
 
 Fel. I am content you snail entreat me stay : 
 But yet not slay, entreat me how y ou can. 
 
 Kalh. i\ow, if you love me, slay. 
 
 i'et. Grumio, my horses. 
 
 Gru. Ay, sir, they be ready ; tne outs have calen 
 the horses. 
 
 Katli. Nay, then. 
 Do wliat Ihuu cjiut, I will not go to-day ; 
 No, nor to-morrow, nor till I please myself. 
 Tlic door IS open, sir, there lies your way. 
 You may be jogging, wiiilst your lioots are green ; 
 For me, I'll noi ue gone, till I please myself; — 
 Tislike, you II proveajohy surly grooiii, 
 That take it on you at the ursl so roundiy. 
 
 l^it. I), Kate, content thee; pryihec be not angry. 
 
 Kalh. 1 will be angry : \v nat ha>t thou to do ! 
 Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisuie. 
 
 Gre. Ay, marry, sir; now it begins to work. 
 
 Au//i. Gentlemen, Ibrward to tiie brutal dinner; — 
 I see, a woman may be maue a fool. 
 If she had nut a spirit to resist. 
 
 Fet. They shall go forward, Kate, at t!iy com- 
 mand : — 
 Obey the bride, you that attend on her ; 
 Go' to the feast, re\ei and domineer, 
 Carouse lull measures to her maidenhead, 
 Be mad and merry,— njr go hang yourselves ; 
 But lor my bonny Kate, she must with me. 
 Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; 
 I will be master ot what is mine ow'n ; 
 She IS my goods, my ch.itlels ; she is my house, 
 My hou.seiiold stutl. my field, my barn, 
 iMy hixse. my ox, my ass, iny any thing; 
 And here siie slands, touch her whoever dare ; 
 I'll bring my action on tne proudest he 
 That slops my way in Padua. — Grumio, 
 Draw fortn tny weapon ; we re beset wiih thieves ; 
 Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man ; — 
 !■ ear not, sweet 'wench, they shall not touch thee, 
 
 Kate ; 
 I'll buckler thee against a million. 
 {Extunt Petruchio. Ka niAitixA, a/jj Guumio, 
 
 Bap. Nay, let ihein go, a couple of quiet ones. 
 
 Gre. Went they not quickly,! slioulu die with 
 laughing. 
 
 Tra. Of all mad matches, never was the like ! 
 
 Luc. Mistress, what'syour opinionof your sister? 
 
 Bian. That being mad herself, she s madly mated. 
 
 Gre. I warrant hiin, petruchio is Kaled. 
 
 Bap. Neighbors and friends, though bride and 
 bridegroom wants 
 For to supply the places at the table. 
 You know, there wants no junkets' at the feast;— 
 Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegrooms place; 
 And let Bianca take her siller s room. 
 
 Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? 
 
 Bap. She shall, Lucenlio. — Come, gentlemen, 
 lets go. 
 
 8 Delicacies. 
 
223 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act 1-7. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 fiCENE I— -4 Hall in Pctruchio's Counlnj House. 
 
 Enter Ghcmio. 
 
 Gru. Fye, fye, on all tired jades, on all mad 
 masters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so 
 beaten J was ever man so rayed 1^ was ever man so 
 weary 1 1 am sent before to make a Hre, and they 
 are coming after to warm them. Now, were I not 
 a little poL, ami soon hot, my very lips niid;ht freeze 
 to my tet'lh, my tongue to the rooC of my nioulh, 
 my heart in ray lieily, ere I should come by a lire 
 to thaw me;— liut. I, with blowing the fire, shall 
 warm myself: for. considering the weather, a taller 
 man than 1 will take cold. Holla, hoa ! Curtis! 
 
 Enter CrnTis. 
 
 Curt. Who is that, calls so coldly 1 
 
 Gru. A piece of ice: J f thou doubt it, thou mayst 
 slide from my shoulder to my Iieei, with no greater 
 a run but my head and my neck. A fire, good 
 Curtis. 
 
 Curt. Is my master and his wife cominj, Grumio? 
 
 Gru. O, ay, Curtis, ay : and Iherclbre' fire, lire ; 
 cast on no water. 
 
 Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? 
 
 Gru. She was, i:ood Curtis, before this frost; but 
 thou know'st, wmier tames man, woman, and beast; 
 for it halfi tamed my old master, and my new 
 mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis. 
 
 Curt. Away, you three-inch tool ! I am no beast. 
 
 Gru. A m 1 but three indies \ why, thy horn is a 
 foot; and so long am I, at the least. Hut wilt thou 
 make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mis- 
 tress, whose hand 'she bemg now at hand) tliou 
 shalt soon feel, to tliy cold comibrt, for bemg stow 
 in thy hot oliice ! 
 
 Curt. 1 prythee, good Grumio, tell me. How 
 goes the world i 
 
 Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but 
 thine; and. therefore, fire : Do thy duty, and have 
 thy duty ; for my master and mistress are almost 
 frozen to deatli. 
 
 Curt. Tiiere's fire ready: And therefore, good 
 Grumio, tiie news ! 
 
 Gru. Why, Jack boy! ho boy! and as much news 
 as thou wilt. 
 
 Curt. Come, you are so full of conycatching : — 
 
 Gru. Why, therefore, fire ; for 1 have caught ex- 
 treme cold. Where's the cook? is supper ready, 
 the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept", 
 th*e scrvmg men in their new fuslain, their white 
 stockings, and every olticer his wedding-garment 
 on ? Be t!ie jacks lair within, the jills fair without, 
 the carpets laid, and every thing in order? 
 
 Cuit. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news? 
 
 Gru. First, know my horse is tired ; my master 
 and mistress fallen out. 
 
 Curt. How? 
 
 Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt; And 
 therefij' hau^s a tale. 
 
 Curt. Lets ha t, good Grumio. 
 
 Gra. Lend thine ear. 
 
 Curt. Here. 
 
 Gru. There. [Striking him. 
 
 Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. 
 
 Gru. And therefore tis called a sensible tale: 
 and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and 
 beseech listening. Now I begin: Lnpriiuis, we 
 came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my 
 mistiess • — 
 
 Curt. Both on one horse? 
 
 Gru. What's that to thee? 
 
 Curt, Why, a horse. 
 
 Gru. TelTthou the tale: But hadst thou not 
 
 crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse 
 fell, and she under her horse; thou shouldst have 
 heard in how miry a place: how she was bemoiled;' 
 how he left her with the horse upon her; how he 
 beat me because her horse stumbled; how she waded 
 through the dirt to pluck him olf me ; how he swore; 
 how site prayed — that never prayed before ; how 
 I cried ; how the horses ran away ; how her bridle 
 
 f Striped. 1 Bcmired. 
 
 was burst; how I lost my crupper ; — with many 
 things of worthy memory ; which now shall die in 
 oblivion, and thou return unexperienced to thy grave. 
 
 Cu7i. By this reckoning, he is more shrew than 
 she. 
 
 Gru. Ay; and that, tiiou and the proudest of 
 you all sliall find, when he conies home. But what 
 talk 1 of tlhs?— call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nich- 
 olas, Philip. Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest: let tiieir 
 heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats brushed, 
 and their garters of an indiflerenl- knit: let them 
 curtsey with their left legs; and not presume to 
 toucii a hair of my masters horse-tail, till they kiss 
 tiieir hands. Are they all ready I 
 
 Curt. Tliey are. 
 
 Gru, Call them forth. 
 
 Curt. Do you hear, Iiof you must meet my 
 master, to countenance my mistress. 
 
 Gru. Wily, she hath a lace of her own. 
 
 Curt. WIjo knows not that ? 
 
 Grn. Thou, it seems ; that callest for company to 
 countenance her. 
 
 Curt. I call them forth to credit her. 
 
 Gru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. 
 
 Enter several Servants. 
 
 Natk. Welcome home, Grumio. 
 
 P/iil. How now, Grumio ? 
 
 Jos. What, Grumio! 
 
 Nicfi. Fellow Grumio! 
 
 Nuth. How now, old lad? 
 
 Gru. Welcome, you ; — how now, you ; — what, 
 you; — lellow, you — and thus much for greeting. 
 Now, my spruce companions, is all ready and all 
 things neat ? 
 
 Nfif/i. All things are ready: How near is our 
 ma.stcr ? 
 
 Gru. EVn at hand, alighted by this ; and there- 
 fore be not Cock's passion, silence ! 1 hear 
 
 my mastcT. 
 
 Enter Petruciiio and Kathahina. 
 
 Pet. Where be these knaves? What, no man at 
 door. 
 To hold my stirrup, nor to take my horse ! 
 Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip ] 
 
 All Strv. Here, here, sir ; here, sir. 
 
 Pet. Here, sir ! here, sir ! here, sir! here, sir ! — 
 You logger-lieaded and unpolish'd grooms ! 
 What, no attendance ? no regard ? no duty ? — 
 Where is the foolish knave I sent before ? 
 
 Gru. Here, sir ; as foolish as 1 was before. 
 
 Pet. You peasant swain ! you whoreson malt- 
 horse drud|j;e! 
 Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, 
 And bring along these rascal knaves with thee ? 
 
 Gru. Nalhaniers coat, sir, was not l^dly made, 
 And Gabriels pumps were all unpink'd i the heei 
 'I'here was no Imk' to color Peter s hat, 
 And Waller's dagger was not come from sheathing 
 There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gre- 
 gory ; 
 Tile rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ; 
 Yet. as they are. here are they come to meet you. 
 
 Pet. Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. — 
 
 [Exeunt same of t/ie Servants 
 
 Where is the Hfe that late I led — I Sings 
 
 Wliere are those Sit down, Kate, and welcome 
 
 Soud, soud, soud !* 
 
 Re-enter Servants witk Supper. 
 Why, when, I say? — Nay, good sweet Kate, be 
 
 merry, 
 off with my boots, you rogues, you villains; 
 When? 
 
 Jt H'fis the friar of orders gray, [Sings 
 
 As he forth xvalkcd on his way: — . 
 Out. out, you rogue ! you pluck my foot awry : 
 Take that, and mend the plucking ofl'the other. — 
 
 [Strikes hun. 
 
 Be merry, Kate :— Some water, here ; what, ho ! — 
 
 1 Not difffrent one from nnothcr. ' A torch of pidh. 
 
 * A wonJ foincd by Sbakspcart- to exprt-ss tho uoise 
 
 mnde by a person heated and fatigued. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 223 
 
 Where'a my spaniel Troilusi — Sirrah, get you 
 
 hence, 
 And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither :^ 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted 
 
 with. — 
 Where are my slippers? — Shall I have some water? 
 [A bason is pre^eiiteil to huti. 
 Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily; — 
 
 [Servant lets lite eicerfall. 
 You whoreson villain ! will you let it tall 1 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 Kath. Patience, I pray you ; 'twas a fault un- 
 willin?. 
 
 Pet. A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave! 
 Come, Kate; sit down ; I know you have a stomach. 
 Will you ;?ive thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall 1! — 
 What IS tills I mutton I 
 
 1 >ii:ri: Ay. 
 
 Pti. Whobrou-ht it! 
 
 1 Sen: I. 
 
 Pel. 'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat; 
 What doiis are these I — Where is tlie rascal cook? 
 How durst you, villains, bring; it from the dresser. 
 And serve it thus to me that love it not ? 
 There, take it to you, trenchers, cups and all : 
 
 I Throws the meat, Sfc. abmil the singe. 
 You heedless joltheads. and unmanner'd slaves ! 
 What, do you grumble? Ill be with you straight. 
 
 Kath. 1 pray, you husband, be not so disquiet; 
 The meat was well. If you were so contented. 
 
 Pet. I tell thee, Kale,"'twas burnt and dried away; 
 And I expressly am forbid to touch it. 
 For it engenders choler, planteth an^er ; 
 And better 'twere, that both of us did fast, — 
 Since of ourselves, oursehes are choleric, — 
 Than l<;ed it with such over-roasted flesh. 
 Be patient; to-morrow it shall be mended. 
 And, for this night, we'll fist for company : 
 Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. 
 
 [Exeunt I'r.Tniirmo, KiTHinixi, tiiid CiitTis. 
 
 Nath. [Adeaiicjn^.] Peter, didst ever see the like? 
 
 Peter. He kills her in her own humor 
 
 Re-enter Curtis. 
 
 Grtt. Where is he ? 
 
 Curt. In her c[iainber. 
 Making a sermon of continency to her: 
 And rails, and swears, and rates; that she, poor soul. 
 Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak ; 
 And sits as one new-risen from a dream. 
 Away, away ! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter PETnucmo. 
 Pet. Thus have I politicly begun my reign, 
 And 'lis my hope to end successfully : 
 My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty ; 
 And till she stoop, she must not be full-gorged, 
 For then she never looks upon her lure.' 
 Another wjy have I to man my haggard,' 
 To make her come, and know her keeper's call. 
 That is, — to watch her, as we watch these kites, 
 That bate,' and beat, and will not be obedient. 
 She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat ; 
 Last night she slejit not, nor to-night she shall not ; 
 As with the meat, some undeserved fault 
 I'll tind about the making of the bed ; 
 And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster. 
 This way the coverlet, another way the sheets: — 
 Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend' 
 That all is done in reverend care of her; 
 And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night : 
 And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail and brawl, 
 And with the clamor keep her stifl awake. 
 This is the way to kill a wife with kindness ; 
 And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humor : 
 He that knows better how to tame a shrew, 
 Now let him speak ; 'tis charily to shew. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. — Padua. Before Baptista's House. 
 
 Enter Trakio and Hortf.nsio. 
 Tra. Is't possible, friend Licio, that Bianca 
 Doth fancy any other but Lueentio? 
 I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. 
 
 Hor, Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said. 
 Stand by, and mark the manner of his teiiching. 
 
 [Theij statid aside. 
 
 • A thing stufTed to look like the game which the hawk 
 was to pursue. 
 
 • To tamo mv wild hawk. ' Flutter. ' Pretend. 
 
 Enter Biasca and Lucextio. 
 
 Lur. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? 
 
 Stan. What, master, read you? first resolve me 
 that. 
 
 Luc. I read that I profess, the art of love. 
 
 Bian. And may you prove, sir, master of your 
 art! 
 
 Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of 
 my heart. [Theij retire. 
 
 Hor. Quick proceeders, marry ! Now, tell me, I 
 pray, 
 \ou that durst swear that your mistress Bianea 
 Lov'd none in the world so well as Lueentio. 
 
 Tra. O despiteful love ! unconstaut woman-kind; 
 I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. 
 
 Hor. Mistake no more ; I am not Licio, 
 Nor a musician as I seem to be ; 
 But one that scorn to live in this disguise, 
 For such a one as leaves a gentleman. 
 And makes a god of such a culhoii :» 
 Know, sir, that I am call'd — Horlensio. 
 
 Tra. Signior Hortensio, 1 have oflen heard 
 Of your entire atrection to Bianca*^ 
 And since my eyes are witness of her lightness, 
 I will with you,— if you be so contented, — 
 Forswear Bianea and her love for ever. 
 
 Hor. See, how they kiss and court ! — Sigmor 
 Lueentio, 
 Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow — 
 .Vever to woo her more ; but to forswear her, 
 As one unworthy all the former favors 
 'fhat I have fondly flattered her withal. 
 
 Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath, — 
 Ne'er to marry with her tlioug^j she would entreat : 
 Fie on her ! see, how beastly she doth court him. 
 
 Hor. 'Would all the world, but he, had quite for- 
 sworn ! 
 For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, 
 I will be married to a wealthy widow. 
 Ere three days pass; which hath as long lov'd me, 
 .\s I have lov'd tiiis proud disdainful haggard: 
 And so farewell, signior Lueentio. — 
 Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, 
 Shall win my love — and so 1 talve my leave, 
 In resolution as I swore before. 
 
 [Exit HonTKNSio — LrcEXTio and Bianca 
 advance. 
 
 Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace 
 .\s longeth to a lover's blessed case ! 
 Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love; 
 Anil have forsworn you with Horlensio. 
 
 Bian. Tranio, you jesl : Bui have you both for- 
 sworn me ? 
 
 Tra. Mistress, we have. 
 
 Luc. Then we arc nd of Licio. 
 
 Tra. I'faith, he'll. have a lusly widow now, 
 That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. 
 
 Bian. God give him joy ! 
 
 Tra. Ay, and he'll lame her. 
 
 Bian. He says so, Trauio. 
 
 Tra. 'Faith he is gone unto the laming-school. 
 
 Bian. The laming-school ! what, is there such a 
 place ! 
 
 Tra. Ay, mistress, and Pelruchio is the master; 
 That leacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, — 
 To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue. 
 
 Enter Biosdello, running. 
 
 Bion. master, master. I have walch'd so long 
 That I'm dog-weary ; but at last I spied 
 An ancient angel' coming down the hill, 
 Will serve the turn. 
 
 Tra. What is he, Biondello ? 
 
 Bian. Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,' 
 I know not what ; but formal in apparel. 
 In gait and countenance surely like a father. 
 
 Luc. .\nd what of him, Tranio ! 
 
 Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale, 
 I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio ; 
 And give assurance to Baptista Minola, 
 As if he were the right \ incentio. 
 Take in your love, and then let me alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucentio aail Bianca. 
 Enter a Pedant. 
 
 Fed. God save you, sir ! 
 
 Tra. And you, sir! you are welcome 
 
 Travel you far on, or are you at the furthest ? 
 
 9 Despicable fellow. i Messenger, 
 
 « A merchant or a schoolmaster. 
 
224 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Fed. Sir, at the Curlhest lor a week or two: 
 But then up rurllu-r ; and a>i far as Roiue ; 
 And so to I'ripoly, if God lend me life. 
 
 Tra. What countryman, 1 pray ? 
 
 P^<i- , Of Mantua. 
 
 Ira. Of Mantua, sir! — marrv. God forbid! 
 And come to I'adua, careless of your life 1 
 
 I'el. My life, sir ! how, I prayl for that goes hard. 
 
 Tra. -Tis death for any one in Mantua 
 To come to Padua ; Know you not the cause 1 
 Your ships are staid at Venice; and the duke 
 (For private quarrel 'twixt j our duke and him) 
 Hath pu!ilish d and proclaiiifd it openly : 
 'Tis marvel ; but that you're but newly come. 
 You might have heard it else proclaim d about. 
 
 I'eil. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so ; 
 For I have bills for money by exchange 
 From l-'lorence, and must here deliver" them. 
 
 Tra. W'ell, s;r, to do you courtesy, 
 Ths will i tlo, and this will I advise you; — 
 First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa \ 
 
 Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been ; 
 Pisa, renowned lur grave citizens. 
 
 Tra. Among them, know you one Vinccntio ? 
 
 Pel. I know him not, but 1 have heard of him; 
 A merchant of incomparable wealth. 
 
 Tra. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, 
 In countenance s-imewhat doth resemble you. 
 
 Blun. As muchas an apple doth an oyster, and 
 all one. [Aside. 
 
 Tra. To save your life in this extremity, 
 This favor will 1 do for his sake ; 
 And think it not the worst of all your fortunes, 
 That you are like to sir Vincentio. 
 His name and credit shall you undertake. 
 And in iny house you shall be friendly lodg'd ; — 
 Look that you take upon you as you should ; 
 You understand me, sir;— so shall you stay 
 Till you have done your business in the city : 
 If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. 
 
 Ved. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever 
 The patron of my life and liberty. 
 
 Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good. 
 This, by the way, I let you understand; 
 My fatlier is here look d for every day. 
 To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 
 'Tvvixt me and one liaptista's (laughter here: 
 In all these circumstances I'll instruct you : 
 Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— .4 Room in Pelruchio's House. 
 
 Eater Katharixa and GiiuMio. 
 
 Gru. No, no, f irsoolli : I dare not for my life. 
 
 A'uWi. 'J'lic more- iny wrong, the more his spite 
 appears; 
 What, did he marry me to famish me ? 
 Beggars, th.at come unto my father's door 
 Upon entreaty, have a present alms; 
 If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: 
 But I. — who never knew how to entreat. 
 Nor never needed that I should entreat, — 
 Am starvd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep ; 
 With oaths kept waking, and witli brawling fjd : 
 And that which spites me more than all these wants, 
 He does it imtler name of perfect love ; 
 As who should say, — If I should sleep, or cat, 
 ' fwere deadly sickness, or else present dcath.^ 
 I prylhee go, and get me some repast ; 
 I care not what, so it be wholesome food. 
 
 Gru. What say you to a neat's foot f 
 
 Kalh. 'Tis passing good ; I prythee let me have it. 
 
 Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat : — 
 How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd ] 
 
 Kalh. I like it well ; good Grumio, fetch it me. 
 
 Gru. I cannot tell ; I fear 'tis choleric. 
 What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard ? 
 
 Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon. 
 
 Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. 
 
 Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard 
 rest.' 
 
 Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the 
 mustard. 
 Or else you get no beef of flrumio. 
 
 Katli. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt. 
 
 Gru. Why then the mustard without the beef. 
 
 Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding 
 slave, [ Beats liim. 
 
 That fecd'st me with the very name of meat : 
 
 Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of vou, 
 That triumph thus upon my misery I 
 Go, get thee gone, I say. 
 
 Enter PETitt'CHio wi/h a dish uf meat; and 
 
 HoHThXSlO. 
 
 Pet. How Aires my Kate? What, sweeting, all 
 amort ]3 
 
 Jhir. Mistress, what cheer ! 
 
 Kalh. 'Faith, as cold as can be 
 
 Pel. Pluck up thy .spirits, look cheerfully upon me. 
 Here, love ; thou seest how diligent I am, 
 I'o dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee ; 
 
 [Sf/.s the dish vn a table. 
 I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. 
 What, not a word ] Nay then, thou lov'st it not ; 
 And all my pains is sorted to no prooT: — 
 Here, take away this dish. 
 
 Kath. 'Pray you, let it stand. 
 
 Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks ; 
 And so shall mine before you touch the meat. 
 
 Kath. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Hnr. Signior Petruchio, fye ! you are to blame . 
 Come, mistress Kate. Ill bear you company. 
 
 Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov st me. — 
 
 [Aside. 
 Much good do it unto thy gentle heart ! 
 Kate, eat apace-: — And now, my honey love, 
 Will we return unto thy father s house ; 
 And revel it as bravely as the best, 
 With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings. 
 With rulfs, and culls, and' farthingales, and things; 
 With scarfs, and fans, and double change of 
 
 bravery,* 
 With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. 
 What, hast thou dined ? The tailor stajs thy leisure, 
 To deck thy body with his rufiiing treasure. 
 
 Enter Tailor. 
 Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments ; 
 
 Enter Haberdasher. 
 Lay forth the gown. — What news with you, sir ? 
 
 Hub. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. 
 
 Pef. Why, this was moulded on a porringer i 
 A velvet dish ; lie, fie! 'tis lewd and hlthy ! 
 Why, tis a cockle, or a walnut shell, 
 A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap ; 
 Away with it, come, let me have a bigger. 
 
 Kalh. Ill have no bigger; this doth tit the time. 
 And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 
 
 Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, 
 And not till then. 
 
 Unr. That will not be in haste. [Aside. 
 
 Kath. Why, sir, I tru.st, 1 may have leave to speak; 
 And speak I will ; I am no chikl, no babe ; 
 Your betters have endured me say my mind ; 
 And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. 
 My tongue will tell the anger of my heart; 
 Or else my heart, concealing it, will break ; 
 .\nd rather than it shall, I will be free 
 Ev'-'n to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 
 
 .Pel. Why, thou say'.st true; it is a paltry cap, 
 A custard-cotlin,> a bauble, a silken pie: 
 1 love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not. 
 
 Kath. Love me, or luve me not, I iile the cap ; 
 Ami it I will have, or I will have mjne. 
 
 fe/. Thy gown ? why ay: Come, tailor, let us see't. 
 
 mercy, God ! what masking stu.'f is here ? 
 What's this '. a sleeve ] 'tis like a dcini-cannon ; 
 What ! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart X 
 Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash. 
 Like to a censcru in a barber's shop: — 
 
 Why, what, o'devil's name, tailor, callst thou this ? 
 
 Hur. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor 
 gown. [Aside. 
 
 Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well, 
 According to the fashion, and the time. 
 
 Pet, RIarry and did ; but if you be remember'd, 
 
 1 did not bid you mar it to the time. 
 Go, hop me over every kennel home. 
 
 For you shall hop without my custom, sir: 
 111 none of it; hence make your best of it. 
 
 Kath. I never saw a bctter-fashion'd gown, 
 More quaint,! more pleasing, nor more commend- 
 able; 
 Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me. 
 
 3 I>ip[iirited ; a Gullu'ism. * Finery. 
 
 e A coffin was the culirniry-tenn for raised crust. 
 
 6 These censers resembled our braziers iu shape. 
 
 1 Curious. 
 
Scene IY. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 225 
 
 Pet. Why, true ; he means to make a puppet of 
 thee, 
 
 Tai. She says your worship means to make a 
 puppet ot her. 
 
 Pei, monstrous arrogance ! Thou liest, thou 
 thread," 
 Thou thimble, 
 
 Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, 
 Thou Ilea, tliou nit. thou winter cricket thou : — 
 Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread! 
 Away thou raj, thou quantity, thou remnant: 
 Or I shall so be-mele* thee wiih thy yard, 
 As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st! 
 1 tell thee, I, that thon hast marrM her gown. 
 
 T(ti. Your worship is deceiv'd ; the gown is made 
 Just as my master had direction : 
 Grumio gave order how it should be done. 
 
 Gni* I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff. 
 
 Tai, But how did you desire it should be made? 
 
 Grii. Marry, sir. with needle and thread. 
 
 T(ti. But did you not reqtiest to h;ive it cut ? 
 
 Grxi, Thou hast faced many things. 
 
 Tai. I have. 
 
 Grii. Face nnt me: thou hast brav'd many men; 
 brave not me: I will neither be faced nor oraved. 
 I say unto thee, — I hid thy master cut out the 
 gown; but did I not bid him cut to pieces: ergo, 
 tiiou host. 
 
 Tai, Why. here is the note of the fashion to testify. 
 
 Pet. Reatt it. 
 
 Gr^.The note lies in histhroat, if hcsa5's I said so. 
 
 Tai. Imprimis, a toose-bndied goirn: 
 
 Grit. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, 
 sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death 
 with a lujttom of brown thread: I said, a gown. 
 
 Pet. Proceed. 
 
 Tai. fVitn a small compassed cape; 
 
 Gru. I confess the cape. 
 
 Tai. JVifha trunk slf ere,- 
 
 Gru. I confess two sleeves. 
 
 Tai. The sleeves curuntsh/ cut. 
 
 Pet. Ay, there's the villaiiy. 
 
 Gru. Krror ithe hill, sir ; error i'the bill. I com- 
 manded the sleeves sliould be cut out, and sewed 
 up aiiain; and that 111 prove ujion thee, though 
 thy little finger be armed in a thimble. 
 
 Tai. This is true, that I say; nn I had thee in 
 place where, thou shouldst know it. 
 
 Gru. 1 am for tliee strai;;ht; take thou the bill, 
 give me the mete-yard.s and spare not me. 
 
 Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio ! then he shall have 
 no odds. 
 
 Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. 
 
 Gru. You are i the riijbt, sir: "lis for my mistress. 
 
 Pet. Go take it up unto thy master's use. 
 
 Gru. Villain, not for thy life : Take up my mis- 
 tress' gown for thy master's use! 
 
 Pet. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? 
 
 Gru. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think 
 lor ; 
 Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use ! 
 O, fie, tie. fie! 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor 
 paid :— [Aside. 
 
 Go. take it hence ; be gone, and say no more. 
 
 Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee fortliy gown to-morrow. 
 Take no unkindness of his hasty words : 
 Away, I say ; commend me to thy master. 
 
 {Ej:it Tailor. 
 
 Pei. Well, come, my Kate ; we will unto your 
 lather's. 
 Even in these honest mean habiliments; 
 Our purses shall he proud, our garments poor ; 
 For tis the mind that makes the body rich ; 
 And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 
 So honor peereth In the meanest habit. 
 What, is tnejay more precious than the lark, 
 Because his feathers are more beautiful'? 
 Or is the adder better than the eel. 
 Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 
 O, no, good- Kate; neither art thou the worse 
 For this poor furniture, and mean array. 
 If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me : 
 And therefore frolic; we will hence ftirthwith, 
 To feast and sport us at thy father s hoitse. 
 Go, call my men, and let us straight to him ; 
 And bring; our horses unto Long-lane end. 
 There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. — 
 
 s Bomcasure. 
 
 • Measuring yard. 
 
 Let's see; I think 'lis now some seven o'clock, 
 And well we may come there by dinner-time. 
 
 Kf.'fh. I dare assure you, sir, lis almost two; 
 And 'twill be supper tune, ere you come thert. 
 
 Pet. It shall be seven, ere 1 go to horse: 
 Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, 
 You are still crossing it. — Sirs, let't alone: 
 I will not go to-day ; and ere I do, 
 It shall be what o'clock I say it is. 
 
 Hor. Why, so! this gallant will command the 
 sun. [Extunf. 
 
 SCKNE IV.— Padua. B ff ore Bapihtas House. 
 Enter Tranio. and tlie Pedant dressed like 
 
 ViSCEXTIO. 
 
 Tra. Sir. this is the house : Please it you, that I 
 call? 
 
 Ped. Ay, wliat else? and, but I be deceived, 
 Signior Baptista may remember me. 
 Near twenty years aso, in Genoa, where 
 We were lodgers at the Pegasus. 
 
 Tra. "Tis well; 
 
 And hold your own, in any case, with such 
 Austerity as 'longelh to a father. 
 
 Enter BioyDELLo. 
 Ped. I warrant you : But, sir, here comes your 
 boy; 
 'Twerc good, he were school'd. 
 
 Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah, Biondcllo 
 Now do your duty thoroughly. I advise you ; 
 Imaiiine 'twere the right Vincentio. 
 Bian. Tut ! fear not me. 
 
 Tra. Hilt h:ist thou done thy errand to Baptista] 
 
 Binn. I told him, that your father was at Venice ; 
 
 And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. 
 
 Tra. 'i'hou'rt a tall' fellow; hold thee that to 
 
 drink. 
 
 Here comes Baptista: — set your countenance, sir. — 
 
 Enter Baptista and LrctNTio. 
 Signior Baptista, you are happily met : — 
 Sir, 1 To //((■ Pedant.] 
 This IS the gentleman I told you of; 
 i jTay you. stand good father to me now, 
 Give me Hianca for my patrimony. 
 
 Ped. Soft, son I— 
 Sir, by your leave ; having come to Padua 
 To "lather in some debts, my son Lucentio 
 Made me acquamted with a weighty cause 
 Of love between your daui£:hter and himself: 
 And, — for the good report I hear of you ; 
 And for the love he beareth to your daughter, 
 And she to him — to stay him not too long, 
 I am content, in a ^ood fathers care, 
 To have him matehd ; and, — if you please to like 
 No worse than I. sir, — upon some agreement. 
 Me shall you find most ready and most willing 
 Willi one consent to have her so bestowed ; 
 For curious* I cannot be with you, 
 Sij^iior Baptista, of whom 1 hear so well. 
 
 Bap. Sir, par<lon me in what I have to say ; — 
 Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well. 
 Right true it is. your son, Lucentio here, 
 Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him, 
 Or both dissemble deeply their aflections : 
 And therefore, if you say no more than this, 
 That like a father you will deal with him, 
 And pass' my daughter a sufJicient dower, 
 The match is fully made, and all is done : 
 Your son shall have my daufihter with consent. 
 
 Tra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you kuor/ 
 best, 
 We be aflied ;< and such assurance taen, 
 As sliall with either part's ag:reement stand ? 
 
 Blip. Not in my house, Lucentio ; for you knew. 
 Pitchers have rars, and I have many scr\'ants: 
 Besides, old tiremio is harkning still ; 
 And, happily,* we might be interrupted. 
 
 Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, sir: 
 There doth my father lie ; and there, this night, 
 We'll pass the business privately and well : 
 Send for your daughter by your servant here, 
 My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. 
 The worst is this> — that, at so slender warning. 
 You're like to have a thin and slender pittance. 
 
 Ba]). It likes me well ; — Cambio, hie you home, 
 And bid Bianca make her ready straight; 
 
 I Ura,vo. a Scrupulous. s Assure or convey. 
 
 » lietrolheJ. t Haply, perhaps. 
 
22G 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 And, if you will, tell wliat hitli happened: — 
 Luccntio's f.ither is arrived in Padua, 
 And how she's like to be LucenUo s wife. 
 
 Luc. 1 pray the ,i^t>ds she may. with all my heart! 
 
 TVfl. Dally not with the sods, but t:et thee gone. 
 Siijnior Bap'tista, shall I lead the way } 
 Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer : 
 Come, sir; we'll better it in Pis.i. 
 
 Bap. 1 follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt TniNio, Pedant, anii Baptista. 
 
 Bioii. Cambio, — 
 
 Luc. What say'st thou, Biondello ? 
 
 Bion, You saw my master wink and laugh upon 
 you ? 
 
 Luc. Biondello, what of that 1 
 
 Bion. 'Faith nothin? ; but he has left me here 
 behind, to expound the meaning or moral of his 
 signs and tokens. 
 
 Luc. I pray thee, moralize them. 
 
 Einn. Theii thus. Baptista is safe, talking with 
 the deceiving father of a deceitful son. 
 
 Xvc. And what of him ! 
 
 Binn. His daughter is to be brought by you to 
 the supper. 
 
 Luc. And then? 
 
 Bion. The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at 
 your command at all hours. 
 
 Luc. .\nd wliat of all this? 
 
 Bum. I cannot tell ; excs'pt they are busied about 
 a counterfeit assurance: Take you assurance of her, 
 cum privUegio ad iinpriinendum .solum : to the 
 church ;— take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient 
 honest witnesses : 
 If this be not what you look for, I have no more to 
 
 say. 
 But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. 
 
 [Going. 
 
 Luc. Hear'st thou, Biondello ] 
 
 Bion. I cannot tarry: 1 knew a wench married 
 in an afternoon as she went to the garden for pars- 
 ley to stulT a rabbit; and so may you, sir; and so 
 adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go to 
 Saint Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come 
 against you come with your appendix. [Exii. 
 
 Luc. I ni;iy, and will, if she be so contented : 
 She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt! 
 Hap what hap may, I II roundly go aliout her. 
 It shall go hard, if Cambio go williout her. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE v.— ^ public Roal. 
 Enter Petruchio, Kathakisa, and HonTEXsio. 
 
 Pel. Come on, o'God's name ; once more toward 
 our father's. 
 Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon ! 
 
 Kalh. The moon ! the sun ; it is not moonlight 
 now. 
 
 Pet. I say, it is the moon that shines so bright. 
 
 KotI). I know, it is the sun that shines so bright. 
 
 Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, 
 It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, 
 (^r ere I jouiney to your father's house: 
 (io on, and fetch our horses back again, — 
 Kverniore cross'd. and crossM ; nothing but cross'd! 
 
 Jlor. Say as he says, or we .shall never go. 
 
 Katfi. Forward, I pray, since we have come so 
 ftr. 
 And be it moon, or sun. or what you please; 
 .\nd if you please to call it a rush candle, 
 Henceforth 1 vow it shall be so for me. 
 
 Pet. 1 sav, it is the moon. 
 
 Katti. ' I l-now it is. 
 
 Pel. Nay, then you lie ; it is the blessed sun. 
 
 Kat/i. Then, God be blessed, it isthe blessed sun:— 
 But sun it is not, when you say it is not ; 
 \nd the moon changes, even as your mind. 
 What you will have it named, even that it is ; 
 .\n(l so it shall be so, for Katharine. 
 
 Nor. i'etruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. 
 
 Pet. Well, forward, forward : thus the bowl 
 should run. 
 And not unluckily againj.t the bias — 
 But soft ; what company is coming here ? 
 
 Enter 'Vi^jce'jtio, in a tranlliiig dress. 
 Good morrow, gentle mistress; Where away ? — 
 
 [To VlXCtSTIO. 
 
 Toll me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, 
 Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ? 
 Such war of white and red within her cheeks ! 
 What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty. 
 As those two eyes beconie that heavenly face !— 
 Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee :— 
 Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. 
 
 Hoc. W will make the man mad, to make a 
 woman of him, 
 
 Katfi. "i'oung budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and 
 sweet. 
 Whither away ; or where is thy abode 1 
 Happy tl.e parents of so fair a child ; 
 Happier the man. whom favoraljle stars 
 .\llot thee for his lovely bed-fellow ! 
 
 Pit. Why, how now, Kate ! I hope thou art not 
 mad ; 
 This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd ; 
 And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. 
 
 Kalti. Pardon, old father, my mistakingjCyes, 
 That have been so bedazzled with the sun, 
 "That every thing I look on seemeth green : 
 Now I perceive, thou art a reverend fat'ner ; 
 Pardon, 1 pray thee, for my mad mistakins'. 
 J'et. Do, good old grandsire ; and, withal, make 
 known 
 Which way thou travellest : if along with us, 
 We shall be joyful of thy company. 
 
 I'in. Fair sir.— and you. my merry mistress,— 
 That with yourstrange encounter much amaz d me, 
 My name is call'd— Vinccntio; my dwelling — Pisa; 
 .And bound I am to Padua ; there to visit 
 A son of mine, which long I have not seen. 
 
 Pft. What is his name! 
 
 Tiij, Lucentio, gentle sir 
 
 Pel. Happily met ; the happier for thy son. 
 And now by law, as well as reverend age, 
 I may entitle thee — my loving father ; 
 The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, 
 Thy son by this h ith married : Wonder not, 
 Nor be not griev'd ; she is of good esteem. 
 Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth ; 
 Besides, so qualified as may beseem 
 The spouse of any noble gentleman. 
 Let me embrace with old Vincentio : 
 And wander we to see thv honest son. 
 Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. 
 
 Vin. But is this true ? or is it else your pleasure, 
 Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest 
 I'pon the company you overtake ? 
 
 ILir. 1 do assure thee, father, so it is. 
 
 Pel. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; 
 For our first merriment hath made me jealous. 
 
 [Exeunt PKTiircHio. Katuabi.na, nnd 
 
 VlN-rv.NTIU. 
 
 Ilor. Well, Petruchio. this hath j^ut me in heart. 
 Have to my widow ; and if she be froward. 
 Then hast thou taught Ilortensio to be untoward. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE L— Padua. Before Lucentio's Hmsc. 
 
 Enter on one i.ide Bioxukllo, LrcENTio. nnd 
 Biaxca ; GiiEjiio walking on the oilier side. 
 
 Sinn. Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready. 
 
 Luc. I tly. Biondello: but they may chance to 
 reed thee at home, therefore leave us. 
 
 iluin. Nay, faith, I II see the church o'your back ; 
 
 and then come back to my master as soon as I can. 
 
 [Exeunt H'cK>Tio, Bianca, and Biospkllo. 
 
 Gre. 1 marvel Cambio comes not all this while. 
 
 Enter Petiiuchio, Kath»bixa, Vijce:!:tio, and 
 I Attendants. 
 
 Pet. Sir. here's the door, this is Lucentio's house, 
 My father's bears more toward the market place ; 
 Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. 
 
 Tin. Vou shall not choose but drink before you go; 
 I think. I shall command your welcome here. 
 And by all likelihood, sonie cheer is toward. 
 
 [Knocks. 
 
 Gre. They're busy within, you were best knock 
 louder 
 
Scene I. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW, 
 
 no7 
 
 Enlir rpd;i]U u'love, at a wiiiii/jw. 
 
 Feil. What's he, tij-it knocks as lie would beat 
 down the ^ate } 
 
 Vin. Is sijrnior Liiccntio within, sir ! 
 
 Pe'[. He's within, sir, hut not to be spoken withal. 
 
 Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound 
 or two, to make merry withal. 
 
 Pel. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he 
 shall need none, so lon^ as 1 live. 
 
 Pet. Na}', I told you, your son was beloved in 
 Padua. — Do you hear, sir ! — to leave frivolous cir- 
 cumstances, — I pray you, tell signior Lucentio. that 
 his tatlier is come from Pisa, and is here at the door 
 to speak with him. 
 
 Ped. Thou liest ; his father is come from Pisa, 
 and here lo(jkinjr out at the window. 
 
 Vin. Art thou his father ? 
 
 Peti. Ay, sir ; so his mother says, if I may bi?- 
 lieve her. 
 
 Pef. Why, how now, gentleman ! [To V'lxcKS.] 
 why. this is flat knavery, to take upon you another 
 man's name. 
 
 Ped. Lay hanrls on the villain; I believe 'a means 
 to cozen somebody in this city under my counte- 
 nance. 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 Bion. 1 have seen them in the church together : 
 But who is here' mine old master, Vincentio? now 
 we are undont\ and brought to nothing. 
 
 Vin. Come hitlier, crack-hemp. 
 
 \}ieeing Bioxdello. 
 
 Bion. I hope, I may choose, sir. 
 
 Vin. Come hither, you rogue: What, have you 
 forgot nic? 
 
 Bion. I'orgot you ? no, sir : I could not forget 
 you. for I never saw you before in all my life. 
 
 Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou 
 never see thy nia^^ter's father, Vincentio? 
 
 Bion. What, my old, worshipful old master? yes. 
 marry, sir; see where he looks cuit of the w-indow. 
 
 I'm. Is't so, indeed? |Bw//s BioNriELio. 
 
 Binn. Help, help, help ! here's a madman will 
 murder nie. YExit. 
 
 Ped. Help, son! help, signior Baptista ! 
 
 [Exit from the u-indow.- 
 
 Pet. Prythee, Kale, let's stand aside, and see the 
 
 end of this controversy. [Tlutj retire. 
 
 Re-enter Pedant below,- Baptista, Tmyio, and 
 Servants. 
 
 Tra. Sir. what are you, that offer to bejt my 
 servant ? 
 
 Vin. What am I, sir? nay what are you. sir? — 
 O immortal gods ! tine villain ! A silken doublet ! 
 a velvet hose! a scarlet cloak ! and a copatain hat!c 
 ^O, 1 am undone! I am undone! while I plaj' 
 the good husband at home, my son and my servant 
 spend all at the university. 
 
 Tra. How ni)w ! what's the matter? 
 
 Bap. What, is the man lunatic? 
 
 Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman 
 by your habit, but your words show you a madman : 
 \Vhy. sir, what concerns it to you. if I wear pearl 
 and gold ! I thank my good father, I am able to 
 maintain it, 
 
 Vin. Thy father? 0, villain ! he is a sail-maker 
 in Bergamo. 
 
 B«;i. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir: Pray, 
 what do you think is his name ? 
 
 Vin. His name? as if I knew not his name: I 
 have brought him up ever since he was three years 
 old, and his name is — Tranio. 
 
 Ped. Away, away, mad ass ! his name is Lucen- 
 tio ; and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands 
 of me. signior Vincentio. 
 
 Vin. Lncentio! (). he hath murdered his master ! 
 — Lay hold on him, I charge you. in the duke's 
 name:— 0, my son, my son!— tell me, thou villain, 
 where is my son Lucentio ? 
 
 Tra. Call forth an otiirer:— [&i/fr («?c v-illi an 
 Oflicer.] Carry this mad knave to the gaol : — Father 
 Baptista, 1 charge you. see that he be forthcoming. 
 
 Via. Carry me to the gaol ! 
 
 Gre. Stay, ofticer: he shall not go to prison. 
 
 Bip. Talk not, signior Gremio ; I'say he shall go 
 to prison. 
 
 Gre. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be 
 cheated in this business; I dare swear, this is the 
 right \'incentio, 
 
 6 A hat with a conical crown. 
 
 Ped. Swear, if thou darest. 
 Ore. Nay, I dare iu,t swear it. 
 Tra. Then tliou wert best say, that I am not 
 Lucentio. 
 Ure. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio. 
 Bap. .Away with tile dotard; to tlie gaol with him. 
 Vin. Thus strangers may be haled and abused: — 
 
 monstrous villain ! 
 
 Re-enter Bios jiT.i.ho,u-itliLvcT.^Tio and Biancji. 
 
 Bion. O. we are spoiled, and — "^'oniJer he is; 
 deny him, forswear him. or else we are all undone. 
 
 Liu: Pardon, sweet father. [ICneelins. 
 
 Vtn. Lives my sweetest soiT? 
 
 [BioNriKT.LO, Trasio, and Pedant rmi out. 
 
 Bixtn. Pardon, dear till her. [Kneeling. 
 
 B(ij). How hast thou oHended ? — 
 
 Where's Lucentio ? 
 
 L'.ic. Here's Lucentio, 
 
 Right son unto the right Vincentio ; 
 That have by marriage made thy daughter mine, 
 While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eync 
 
 <Jre. Here's packing,' with a witness, to deceive 
 us all ! 
 
 Vin. Where is that damned villain Tranio, 
 Tiiat faced and braved me in this matter so ? 
 
 Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? 
 
 Bi-an. Cambio is changed into Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love 
 .Made me exchaii::e my stale with Tranio. 
 While he did bear my countenance in the town; 
 -And hapjiiiy I have arrived at last 
 Into the wished haven of my bliss: — 
 What Tranio did. myself enlbrced him to; 
 Then jiaidon him, sweet fiither, for my sake. 
 
 Vin. I'll slit the villains nose, thai would have 
 sent me to the gaol. 
 
 Bap. But do you hear, sir? [To Li'CENTro.] 
 Have you married my daughter without asking my 
 good-will ? 
 
 Viii. Kear not, Baptista; we will content you, go 
 to : But I will in, to be revenged for this villany. 
 
 [i:xit. 
 
 Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not 
 frown. I Exeunt Luc, and Bia>. 
 
 Gre. My cake is dough :» But I'll in among the 
 rest: 
 Out of hope of all,— but my share of the feast. 
 
 [ExU. 
 PETniTiito and Kathaiuxa a^Jvaiice, 
 
 Katti. Husband, let's follow, to see the end of 
 
 this ado. 
 Pet. First kiss me. Kate, and we will. 
 Katti. What, in the midst of the street 1 
 Pet. What, arl thou ashamed of me ? 
 Kalli. No, sir : Cod forbid :— but ashamed to kiss. 
 Pet. Why, then let's home again: — Come, sirrah, 
 
 let's away. 
 Katli. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray 
 
 thee, love, stay. 
 Pet. Is not this well? — Come, my sweet Kate; 
 Better once llian never, for never too late. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Room in Lucentio's House. 
 
 A Banquet set out. £H/fr Baptista, Viscestio, 
 fiRKMio. ttic Pedant, Lvcentio, Bianca, Pe- 
 rnucHio, Kathaui.na, Hortexsio, and Wid- 
 ow; Tranio, Biondello, Gnujiio, and others, 
 
 attending. 
 
 Luc. At last, tliough long, our jarring notes agree ; 
 And time it is. when raging war is done, 
 Tfi smile at 'scapes and penis overblown. — 
 My lair Bianca, hid my father v\'e!coine. 
 While I with self-same kindness welcome thine :^ 
 Brother Petruchio, — sister Katharina. — 
 .And thon, Hortensio, with thy loving widow. 
 Feast with the best, and welcome to my house; 
 My banquet is to close our stomachs up. 
 .A Her our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down. 
 For now we sit to chat as well as eat, 
 
 [Ttieiisital table. 
 
 Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat ? 
 
 Bap. Padua all'ords this kindness, son Petruchio. 
 
 1 P.'C'-ive,l tliinceyps. 
 
 " Trii-king, underhand contrivancei. 
 c I'rovtrbial e.xpri'ssion, repeated after a disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
228 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Pel. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. 
 
 Hur, For both our sakes, i would that word were 
 true. 
 
 Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. 
 
 Wid. Then never trust me if 1 be afeard. 
 
 Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my 
 sense; I mean Hortensio is afeard of you. 
 
 Wid. He that is giddy, thinks the world turns 
 round. 
 
 Pel. Roundly replied. 
 
 Kalli. Mistress, how mean you that 1 
 
 Will. Thus I conceive by him. 
 
 Pet. Conceives by me!— How likes Hortensio thaf! 
 
 Hnr. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. 
 
 Pet. Very wall mended : Kiss him for that, good 
 widow. 
 
 Kalh, He that is giddy, thinks the world turns 
 
 round : 
 
 1 pray you, tell me what you meant by that. 
 
 Wid. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, 
 Measures my husbands sorrows by his ivoe : 
 And now you know my meaning. 
 
 Kalh. A very mean meaninj;. 
 
 Wid. Hight, I mean you. 
 
 Kntlt. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. 
 
 Pet. To her, Kate ! 
 
 Hor. To her, widow! 
 
 Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her 
 down. 
 
 Hor. That's my office. 
 
 Pet. Spoke like an officer: — Ha, to tliee, lad. 
 
 [Drinks tu Hohtensio. 
 
 Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks ! 
 
 Ore. Believe me^ sir, they butt together well. 
 
 Bian. Head, and butt ! a hasty-witted body 
 Would say, your head and butt were head and horn. 
 
 Via. Ay, mistress bride, hatli that awakend you ] 
 
 Bian. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll 
 sleep again. 
 
 P. t. Nay, tnat you shall not ; since you have 
 be^un. 
 Have at you for a bitter j?st or two. 
 
 Bian. .\ni I your bird ! I mean to shift my bush. 
 And then pursue me as you draw your bow : — 
 You are welcome all. 
 
 \E.ceunt Bia.nca, Katharina, and Widow. 
 
 Pet. She hath prevented me. — Here signior 
 Tranio, 
 This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; 
 Therefore, a health to all that shot and niiss'd. 
 
 Tra. O sir, Lucentio slippd me like his grey- 
 hound. 
 Which runs himself, and catches for his master. 
 
 Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself; 
 *Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. 
 
 Bap. O ho, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. 
 
 Luc. I thank thee for that girl,' good Tranio. 
 
 Hijr. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here? 
 
 Pet. 'A has a little gait'd me, I confess; 
 And as the jest did glance away from me, 
 'Tis ten to one it maiin'd you two outright. 
 
 Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, 
 I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 
 
 Pet. Well, I say — no: and therefore, for assu- 
 rance. 
 Let's each one send unto his wife ; 
 And he, whose wife is most obedient 
 To come at first when he doth send for her, 
 Shall win the wager which we will propose. 
 
 Hor. Content — What is the wager ! 
 
 Luc. Twenty crowns. 
 
 Pit. Twenty crowns! 
 I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound. 
 But twenty times so much upon my wife. 
 
 Luc. A hundred then. 
 
 Heir. Content. 
 
 Pel. A match ; 'tis done. 
 
 Hor. Who shall begin ! 
 
 Luc. " That will I. Go, 
 
 Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. 
 
 Biun. 1 go. [Exit. 
 
 Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. 
 
 Luc. Til have no halves: Til, bear it all myself. 
 Re-enter Bioxdf.llo. 
 How now ! what news'! 
 
 Uinn. Sir, my mistress sends you word 
 
 That she is busy, and she cannot come ! 
 ^ Sarcasm. 
 
 Pet. How ! sjie is busy, and she cannot come'! 
 Is that an answer 1 
 
 Gre. Ay, and a kind one too : 
 
 Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 
 
 Pet. I hope, better. 
 
 Hur. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife 
 To come to me I'orthwith. [Exit Bioniiello. 
 
 Pel. ho ! entreat her ! 
 
 Nay, then she must needs come. 
 
 Hor. I am afraid, sir 
 
 Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. 
 Re-enter Bio>"iiello. 
 
 Now, Where's my wife 1 
 
 Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in 
 hand ; 
 She will not come; she bids you come to her. 
 
 Pet. Worse, and worse; she will not come ! vile, 
 Intolerable, not to be endured ! 
 Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ; 
 Say. 1 command her come to me. [Exit Grcmio. 
 
 Hor. I know her answer. 
 
 Pet. What '! 
 
 Hor. She will not come. 
 
 Pel. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. 
 Enter Katuarixa. 
 
 Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katli- 
 arina ! 
 
 A'ft/A. What is your will, sir, that you send forme? 
 
 Pel. Where is your sister, and Horteiisio's wife ] 
 
 Kutk. They sit coiilerring by the parlor Hrc. 
 
 Pet. Go fetch them hither ; it' they deny to come, 
 Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands ; 
 Away, 1 say, and bring them hither straight. 
 
 \Kxit Kathahina. 
 
 Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. 
 
 Hor. And so it is ; 1 wonder what it bodes. 
 
 Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet 
 life, 
 An awful rule, and right supremacy ; 
 And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy 
 
 Bup. Now, fair bel'al thee, good Petruchio ! 
 The wager thou hast won ; and 1 will add 
 Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ; 
 Another dowry to another daugliter. 
 For she is changed, as she had never been. 
 
 Pel. Nay, I will win my wager better yet ; 
 And show more sign of her obedience. 
 Her new-built viriue and obedience. 
 Re-enter Kathari.va, with Biaxca and Widow 
 See, where she comes; and brings your froward 
 
 wives 
 As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. — 
 Katharine, that cap of yours become you not ; 
 on with that bauble, thVow it under foot. 
 
 [Katuakixa puUn ojf her cap, and throws 
 it duwn. 
 
 Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, 
 Till I be brought to such a silly pass ! 
 
 Bian. Fye ! what a foolish duly call you this ? 
 
 Luc. I would your duty were as foolish too: 
 The wisdom of j our duty, fair Bianca, 
 Hath cost mean hundred crowns since supper-time. 
 
 Biun. The more tool you, for laying on my duly. 
 
 Pet. Katharine, I cliarge thee, tell these head- 
 strong women 
 What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. 
 
 Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have 
 no telling. 
 
 Pet. Come on, i say ; and first begin with her. 
 
 Wid. She shall not. 
 
 Pet. I say, she shall ;— and first begin with her. 
 
 Kuth. Fye, fye ! unknit that threat'iiing unkind 
 brow ; 
 And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
 To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor ; 
 It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads j 
 Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds, 
 And in no sense is meet, or amiable. 
 A woman mov'd, is like a fountaintroubled, 
 Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ; 
 And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
 Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it 
 Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper. 
 Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares tor thee, 
 .\nd for thy maintenance: commits his body 
 To painful labor, both by sea and land; 
 To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
 While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe , 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 229 
 
 And craves no other tribute at thy hands, 
 But love, tair looks, and true obedience ; — 
 Too little payment for so great a debt. 
 Such duty as the subject owes the prince. 
 Even such, a woman oweth to her husband : 
 And when she's froward. peevish, sullen, sour. 
 And not obedient to his honest will. 
 What is she, but a foul contending rebel, 
 And graceless traitor to her lovin.g lordl 
 I am asliamed, that women are so simple 
 To Oder war, where they should kneel for peace : 
 Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway. 
 When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
 Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, 
 Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ; 
 But that our soft conditions' and our hearts. 
 Should well agree with our external parts ] 
 Come, come, >ou froward and unable worms ! 
 My mind hath been as bii^ as one of yours, 
 My heart as great ; nty reason, haply more 
 To bandy word for word, and frown for frown: 
 But now, I see our lances are but straws ; 
 Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,— 
 oQeutle tempers. 
 
 That seeming to be most, which we least are. 
 Then vail your stomachs,' for it is no boot ; 
 And place your hands below your husband's foot : 
 In token of which duty, if he please. 
 My hand is ready, may it do him ease. 
 Pet. Why, there's a wench ! — Come on, and kiss 
 
 me, Kate. 
 TjUC. Well, go thy ways, old lad ; for thou slialt 
 
 ha't. 
 Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are to- 
 ward. 
 Lac. But a harsh hearing, when women arc fro- 
 ward. 
 
 Pel. Come, Kate, we'll to bed : 
 
 We three are married, but you two are sped. 
 
 ' Twas I won the wager, though yen hit liie white: 
 
 {To LUCKNTIO. 
 
 And, being a winner, God give you good night! 
 
 [Exeunt I'tTutrciiio andKKTii. 
 Ilor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a curst 
 
 sh rew. 
 Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be 
 tamed so. [Exeunt. 
 
 3 Abjite your epirits. 
 
WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Leontes, Kin^ of Sicilia. 
 Mamillius, his So7i, 
 Camillo, I * 
 
 Digs, J 
 
 Anulher Sicilian Lord. 
 
 RoGBtio, a Sicilian Gentleman. 
 
 An Allenilrinl on the young Prince MamiUius. 
 
 Officers of a Cnurl of Judicature. 
 
 PoLixENES, Kint^ (f Boliemia. 
 
 Flouizel, ftis Suit. 
 
 AncHinATMus, a Bohemian Lord. 
 
 A Mariner. 
 
 Gaoler. 
 
 An old Shepherd, reputed Father of Pexdita. 
 
 Cloion, his Sun. 
 
 ServunI to the old Shepherd. 
 
 AOTOLrcrs, a Rogue. 
 
 Time, as Chorus.^ 
 
 Hkiimione, Queen to Lcoiitps. 
 
 Peudita, Daughter to Leontes and Herniione. 
 
 Pavlixa, (F{/(; /o Antigonus. 
 
 I.ords, Ladies, and Attendants; Sntyrs for a 
 Dance ; Shepherds, SItephcrdcsscs, Guards, i^-c. 
 
 SCENE, sometimes in Sicilia, sometimes in Bohemia. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Sicilia. An Antecfiambcr in Leonlcs' 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Camiilo and Ahchiiia:>ics. 
 
 Arch. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bo- 
 hemia, on the like occasion whereon my services 
 arc now on foot, you shall see, as I have said,?rcat 
 diUcrerice betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia. 
 
 Cam. 1 think, this coming summer, the king of 
 Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which 
 he justly owes him. 
 
 Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us, 
 we will be justified in our loves : for, indeed,^ 
 
 Cum. 'Beseech you, 
 
 Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my 
 knowledge : we cannot with such magnificence — 
 in so rare — I Know not what to say. — We will give 
 you sleepy drinks: that your senses, unintelligenf 
 of our insuflicicnce, may, though they cannot praise 
 us, as little accuse us. 
 
 Ca/n. You pay a great deal too dear, for what's 
 given freely. 
 
 Arch. Believe me, I. speak asmy understanding in- 
 structs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. 
 
 Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to 
 Bohemia. They were trained together in their 
 childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then 
 such an allijction, which cannot choose but branch 
 now. Since their more mature dignities, and royal 
 necessities, made separation of their society, their 
 encounters, though not personal, have been royally 
 attornied,' with interchange of gifts, letters, loving 
 embassies ; that they have seemed to be together, 
 though absent ; shook hands, as over a vast;' end 
 embraced as it were, from the ends of opposed 
 winds. The heavens continue their loves ! 
 
 Arctt. 1 think, there is not in the world either 
 malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an un- 
 speakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius ; 
 it is a gentleman of the greatest promise, tJiat ever 
 came into my note. 
 
 Cum. I very well agree with you in the hopes of 
 him : it is a gallant child ; one tliat, indeed, physics 
 the subject," makes old hearts fiesh : they, that went 
 on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life, to 
 Bee him a man. 
 
 Arch. Would they else be content to die"? 
 
 'Supplird by substitution of embassies. 
 
 s Wide wasti! of country. 
 
 ■ Affords a cordial to the state. 
 
 Cam. Y'es: if there were no other excuse why 
 they should desire to live. 
 
 Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire 
 to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — A Room of State in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Leomtes, Polixenes, Hehmione, Mamil- 
 Lirs, Ca:iiillo, and Attendants. 
 
 Pol. Nine changes of the wafry star have been 
 The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne 
 Without a burden : time us long again 
 Would be tiird up, my brother, with our Uianks; 
 And yet we should, for perpetuity. 
 Go hence in debt: And theicliire, like a cipher, 
 Yet standing in rich place, I multiply. 
 With one we-thank-you, many thousands more 
 Tliat go before it. 
 
 Leon. Stay your thanks awhile ; 
 
 And pay them when you part. 
 
 Pol. Sir, that's to-morrow, 
 
 I am question'd by my fears, of what may cliancc, 
 Or breed upon our absence: That may blow 
 No sneaping* winds at home, to make us say. 
 This if put forth too truly! llesides, 1 have stay'd 
 To tire your royalty. 
 
 I^on. Wc are tougher, brother, 
 
 Than you can put us tot. 
 
 Pol. No longer stay. 
 
 Leon. One seven-night longer. 
 
 Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow. 
 
 Leon. We'll part the time betvveeii's then : and 
 hi that 
 ril no gain-saj'ing. 
 
 Put. Press me not, 'beseech you so: 
 
 There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'the 
 
 world. 
 So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now, 
 Were there necessity in your request, although 
 'Twere needful I denied it. My atfairs 
 Do even drag me homeward : which to hinder, 
 Were, in yoiir love, a whip to me ; my stay, 
 To you a charge, and trouble: to save both. 
 Farewell, our brother. 
 
 Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen'! speak you. 
 
 Iler. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, 
 until 
 You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay. Yot. 
 
 sir. 
 Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure, 
 • Nipping. 
 
SCEXE II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 2:il 
 
 All in Bohemia's well : tliis satisfaction 
 
 The by-gone day proclaim d: say this to liim, 
 
 He's beat from his best ward, 
 
 Leon. Well said, Hcrmione. 
 
 Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong ; 
 But let hnn say so then, and let him go ; 
 But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, 
 We 11 thwack him hence with distaffs. — 
 Yet of your rtjyal presence [Tu Polixeses-] I'll 
 
 adventure 
 The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia 
 You take my lord, I'll give him my commission. 
 To let him there a month, behnid the gests 
 Prefixed for his i>arting : yet, good (Iped,'^ Leontes, 
 1 love thee not a jar o'the clock behind 
 What lady she her lord. — You U stay 1 
 
 Pol. No, madam. 
 
 Her. Nay, but you will. 
 
 Pot. I may not, verily. 
 
 Ha: Verily ! 
 You put me oil' with limber vows: But I, 
 Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with 
 
 oaths. 
 Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily, 
 You shall not go ; a lady's verily is 
 As potent as a lord s. Will you go yet 1 
 Force me to keep you as a prisoner. 
 Not like a guest ; so you shall pay your fees. 
 When you depart, and save your thanks. How 
 
 say you ? 
 My prisoner '. or my guest 1 by your dread verily, 
 One of them you shall be. 
 
 Pol. Your guest then, madam : 
 
 To be your prisoner, sliould import otlending ; 
 Which is for me less easy to commit. 
 Than you to punish. 
 
 Her. Not your gaoler then. 
 
 But your kind hostess. Come. I'll question you 
 Of my lord s tricks, and yours, when you were boys: 
 You were pretty lordlings"" then. 
 
 Pol. ■ We were, fair queen, 
 
 Twolals, that thought there was no more bei.ind, 
 But such a day ti>-morrow as to day, 
 And to be boy eternal. 
 
 Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o'the two '.' 
 
 Pol. We were as twinn'd iambs, that did frisk 
 I'the sun, 
 And bleat the one at the other: what we changed, 
 Was innocence lor innocence ; we knew not 
 The doctrine of ill-doing, no. nor dream'd 
 That any did : Had we jiursued that liIV, 
 And our weak spirits neer been higher reared 
 With stronger blood, we should have anawcr'd 
 
 heaven 
 Boldly, Nut guilty : the imposition clear'd, 
 Hereditary ours. 
 
 Her. By this we gather, 
 
 You have tripp'd since. 
 
 Pol. O my most sacred lady, 
 
 Temptations have since then been borne to us; for 
 In those unfledg'd da>s was my wife a girl ; 
 Your precious self had then not crossd the eyes 
 Of my young play-fellow. 
 
 Her. Grace to boot! 
 
 Of this make no conclusion; lest you say, 
 Your queen and I are devils: Yet go on; 
 The otfences we have made you do, we'll answer ; 
 If you tir.st sinnd with us. and that wjth us 
 Vou did contmue fault, and that you slipp'd not 
 With any but with us. 
 
 Leon. Is he won yet I 
 
 Her. He'll stay, my lord. 
 
 Leon. At my request, he would not. 
 
 Hermionc, my dearest, thou never spok'st, 
 To belter purpose. 
 
 H'^r. Never 1 
 
 Leon. Never, but once. 
 
 Hei'. What"! have I twice said well ! whenwas't 
 before 1 
 I prythee, tell me: Cram us with praise. and maKe us 
 As fat as tame tilings: One good deed, dying 
 
 tongueless. 
 Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. 
 Our praises are our wages: Von may ride us, 
 With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere 
 Witlt spur we heat an acre. But to the goal; — 
 My last good deed was, to entreat his stay ; 
 
 6 Gests were the nnnies of the stamps where the king 
 Bp o>ntc(l to lie, during a royal progress. 
 
 "j iLidued. ■> A dijuunitiye of lords. 
 
 What was my first ! it has an elder si^ter, 
 Or I mistake you: <t, would licr name were Grace I 
 Hut once before 1 spoke to the purpose : When? 
 Nay, let me have't, I long. 
 
 Lton. Why, that was when 
 
 Three erabb'd monllis had sour d themst-lves to death 
 Kre I cuuld make thee open thy white hand, 
 And clap thyself my lo\e\ then did?t thou utter, 
 I a /It yours for ever. 
 
 Her. It is Grace, indeed. — 
 
 VVhy,loyou now, I havespoke to tliepurpose twice: 
 The one torever earned a royal husband ; 
 Tlie oilier, for sunie wliile a iriend. 
 
 yGiving ker hand to Polixenes. 
 
 Leon. Too hot. too hot : [Aaide. 
 
 To nnngle friendship Cur, is mingh.ng bloods. 
 1 have tremor cordtA* on me : — my heart dances; 
 liut not for joy, — not joy. — This entertainment 
 May a free iA^^e put on : derive a liberty 
 From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, 
 And we 1 become the agent: it may, 1 gran^: 
 But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers. 
 As now they are ; and making praclis d smiles, 
 As in a loouing-glass; — and then to sigh, as 'twere 
 The mort o' ttie deer;» O, that is entertainment 
 My bosom likes not, nor my brows. — Manulhus, 
 Art tiiou my boy \ 
 
 Mam. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Leon. Ifecks ? 
 
 Why that's my bavvcock.' What, hast smutch'd thy 
 
 nose ! — 
 They say it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain, 
 We must be neat ; not neat, but cleanly, eapiaia . 
 And yet the steer, the heifer, and the eaU, 
 Are all call'd neat.— Still virginalling^ 
 
 [Observing Holixenes and Heumione. 
 Upon his pahn !— lluw now, you wanton calf: 
 Art thou my calf ! 
 
 Mum. Yes, if you will, my lord. 
 
 Leon. Thou wantst a rough pash. and the shoots 
 that [ have,* 
 To be full like me:— yet, they say we are 
 Alniosl as like as eggs; women say so, 
 rtiat will say any tiling : but were they false 
 As o er-died blacks, as wind, as waters; false 
 As dice are to he wish'd, by one that fixes 
 No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true 
 To say this boy were like me. — Come, sir page, 
 Lov\i on me with your welkin* eye : Sweet villain \ 
 Most dearest! my eollop!— Can thy dam.' — may'tbci 
 Alleclion! ti.y nitentmn slabs the centre : 
 Thuu dost inaKe |H»s-^ihle, things not so held, 
 Conitnuiiiealfl with dreams; — (How can tJus be ?) 
 With what s unreal thou ro-aclive art, 
 And fellow'st nothing: Then, 'tis .very credent,* 
 Thou nuiy'st co-join with something; and thou dost: 
 (And thai beynnd commission ; and i find it :) 
 And that to the infection of my brains, 
 And liardening of my brows. 
 
 po . What means SiciUa ? 
 
 Her. He something seems unsettled. 
 
 Pol. How, my lord? 
 
 What cheer 1 how is'l with you, best brother i 
 
 Htr. Vou look, 
 
 As if you held a brow of much distraction ; 
 Are you moved, my lord } 
 
 L'.un. No, in good earnest. — 
 
 How sometimes natu e will betray it-s folly. 
 Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime 
 To harder l)osoms ! Looking on tlie lines 
 Of my boy s lace, methoughts, I did recoil 
 Twenty-lhree jears: and saw myself unbreech'd, 
 In my green velvet coal ; my dagger muzzled, 
 Lest It sliould bite its master, ana so prove. 
 As ornaments olt do, too dangerous. 
 How hUe, methonght ; I then wa^ to this kernel 
 This squash.6 this gentleman: — Mine honest frieiuj, 
 \\ ill you take eggs for money 1' 
 
 Mam. No. my lord. Ml fight. 
 
 Lt^on. Vou will \ why, happy man be his do.e \» 
 — My brother, 
 
 9 Trruililiiig of the benrt. 
 a Tht- tunc I layed lit the death of the deer. 
 1 llenrty fellow. 
 
 a i. c. rhiying with her lingers as if on a spinet. 
 3 Thuu w.'iiitest a rough head, and the Luddiug homs 
 tb::t I have. 
 
 « iilue, like the sky. b Credible. 
 
 e Fe;i-cod. T Will you be cajoled? 
 
 s May hie lot in life be a happy oaeJ 
 
232 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Are you so fond of your young prince, as wo 
 Do seem to be of ours 7 
 
 Pol. If at home, sir, 
 
 He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : 
 Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy ; 
 ]VIy parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : 
 He makes a July's day short as December ; 
 And, with his varyini; cliildness, cures in me 
 ThouRlits that would thick my blood. 
 
 Leon. So stands this squire 
 
 Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord. 
 And leave you to your graver steps.— Hcrmione, 
 How thou lov'st us, show in our brother's welcome; 
 Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: 
 Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's 
 Apparent- to my heart. 
 
 Her. If you would seek us. 
 
 We are your'si'the garden: Shalls attend you there! 
 Leuii. To your own bents dispose you : you 11 
 be found. 
 Be yoti beneath the sky:— I am angling now. 
 Though you perceive me not how I give line. 
 Go to, go to \ 
 
 {Aside. Observing: Polixksf.s and Hf.h>iione. 
 How she holds up the neb,' the bill to him ! 
 And arms her with the boldness of a wife 
 To her allowing^ husband! Gone already; 
 Inch-thick, knee-deep ; o'er head and ears a fork'd 
 one.3 
 
 [Exeunt Polixenes, Heiimiosk, and 
 Attendants. 
 Go, play, boy, play ;— thy mother plays, and I 
 Play too; but so disgraced a part, whose issue 
 Will hiss me to my grave ; contempt and clamor 
 Will be my knell,— Go, play, boy, play;— There 
 
 liave been. 
 Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now; 
 And many a man there is, even at this present. 
 Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm. 
 That hltle thinks she has been sluiced in his absence. 
 And his pond lish'd by his next neighbor, by 
 Sir Smile, his neighbor: nay, there's comfort in't, 
 Whiles other men have gates; and those gates 
 
 open'd. 
 As mine, against their will : Should all despair. 
 That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind 
 Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none ; 
 It is a bawdy planet, that will strike 
 Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it. 
 From east, west, north, and south ; 13e it concluded, 
 No barricado for a belly ; know it; 
 It will let in and out the enemy. 
 With bag and baggase : many a thousand of us 
 Have the disease, and feel t not.— How now, boy 1 
 Mam. I am like you, they say. 
 Leon. Why, that's some comfort,— 
 
 What! CamiUo there? 
 Cam. Ay, my good lord: 
 
 Leon. Go play, MainiUius; thou'rt an honest 
 man. — [£a,'t/M.»MiLLius, 
 
 Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. 
 
 Cam. You had much ado tu make his anchor hold: 
 When you cast out, it still came home. 
 Leon. Didst note itl 
 
 Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; made 
 His business more material. 
 
 Leon. Didst perceive if! — 
 
 They're here with me already ; whispering, round- 
 ing.' 
 Skilia is a so-forlh: 'Tis far gone. 
 When I shall gust' it last.— How cam't, Camillo, 
 That he did stay? 
 
 Cam. At the good queen's entreaty. 
 
 Leon. At the queen's bet; good should be per- 
 tinent; 
 But so it is, it is not. Was this taken 
 lly any understanding pate liut thine ? 
 For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in 
 More than the common blocks:— Not noted, is't. 
 But of the finer natures ? by some severals, 
 Of head-piece extraordinary ! lower messes," 
 Perchance, ari^ to this business purblind : say. 
 Cam. liusiness, my lord? 1 think, most under- 
 stand 
 liohemia stays here longer. 
 y Heir jijipftrent, next claimant. 
 J .Mouth. * Approving. 
 
 3 A homed onp, a cuokoUl, 
 
 * To round in the ear was to toll secretly 'Taste. 
 
 • Jufuriors iu rank. 
 
 Leon. Ha ? 
 
 Cum. Stays here longer. 
 
 Leon. Ay, but why? 
 
 Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties 
 Of our most gracious mistress. 
 
 Leon. Satisfy 
 
 The entreaties of your mistress? satisfy ? 
 
 Let that siillice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, 
 With all the nearest things to my heart, as well 
 My chamber-councils: wherein, priest-like, thou 
 Hast cicansd my bosom; 1 from thee departed 
 Thy penitent refonn'd : but we have been 
 Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd 
 In that which seems so. 
 
 Cam. Be it forbid, my lord ! 
 
 Lf:on. To hide upon'l;— I'hou art not lumesl: or, 
 If tiiou iiiclin'st that way, thou art a coward ; 
 Which boxes' honesty behind, restraining 
 From course required: Or else thou must be counted 
 A. servant, grafted m my serious trust, 
 .\nd thereiir negligent ; or else a fool. 
 That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake 
 
 drawn. 
 And tak St it all for jest. 
 
 Cam. My gracious lord, 
 
 I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; 
 In every one of these no man is free, 
 But that his negligence, his folly, fear, 
 .\inoiigst the infinite doings of the world. 
 Sometime puts forth : In your all'airs, my lord, 
 If ever I were wilful-negligeni. 
 It was my folly; if industriously 
 I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 
 Not weighing well the end ; if ever fearful 
 To do a thing, where 1 the issue doubted. 
 Whereof the execution did cry out 
 Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 
 Which oft aO'ects the wisest: these, my lord, 
 ,\re such allow'd infirmities, that honesty 
 Is never free of. But, beseech your grace. 
 Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass 
 By Its own visage: if I then deny it, 
 'Tis none of mine. 
 
 Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, 
 
 (But that's past doubt : you have ; or your eye-glass 
 Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,) or heard, 
 (For, to a vision so apparent, rumor 
 Cannot be inute,) or thought, (for cogitation 
 Resides not in that man, that does not think it.) 
 My wife is slippery ? If thou wilt conless, 
 (Or else bo impudently negative, 
 I'o have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say 
 My wife's a hobby-horse: deserves a name 
 As rank as any Uax wench, that puts to 
 Before her troth-plight : say it, and justify it. 
 Cum. I would not be a slander-by, to hear 
 My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 
 Jly present vengeance taken ; 'Shrew iny heart, 
 You never spoke what did become you less 
 Than this : which to reiterate, were sin 
 As deep as that, though true. 
 
 Leon. Is whispering nothing? 
 
 Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses ! 
 Kissing with inside lip ! stopping the career 
 Of laughter with a sigh ? (a note infallible 
 Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ? 
 Skulking in forners ? wishing clocks more swift ? 
 Hours, minutes! tioon, midnight! and all eyes blind 
 With the pin and web,* but theirs, theirs only, 
 'i'hat would unseen be wicked ! is this nothing ? 
 Why, then the world, and all tha.l's in't, is nothing; 
 The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nolhing ; 
 My wile is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, 
 if this be nothing. 
 
 Cam. Good my lord, be cured 
 
 Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; 
 For 'tis most dangerous. 
 
 Leon. Say, it be ; 'tis true. 
 
 Cam. No, no, my lord. 
 
 Leon. It is; you lie, you lie: 
 
 I say, thou liest, Camillo, and 1 hate thee ; 
 Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave : 
 Or else a hovering temporizer, that 
 Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, 
 Inclining to them bolh. Were my wife s liver 
 Infected as her life, she would not hve 
 The running of one glass. 
 Cam. Who docs infect her ! 
 
 • To box is to hamsiriug. 
 
 e Disorders of the eye. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 1233 
 
 Leun. Why. he tliat wears her like her medal, 
 hanging 
 About his neck, BoJiemia: Who — if I 
 Had servants true about me, that bare eyes 
 To see alike mine lionor as their profits, 
 Their own particular thrifts, — they would do that 
 Which should undo more doing : Ay, and thou, 
 His cupbearer, — whom I from meaner form 
 Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship ; who may'st 
 
 see 
 Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, 
 How I am galled,— thou mightst bespice a cup. 
 To give mine enemy a lasting wink ; 
 Which drauglit to me were cordial. 
 
 Cam. Sir, my lord, 
 
 I could do this: and that with no rash' potion. 
 But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work 
 Maliciously like poison: But I cannot 
 Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress. 
 So sovereignly being honorable. 
 I have lov'd thee, 
 
 Leon. Make't thy question, and go rot ! 
 
 Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled. 
 To appoint myself in this vexation 1 sully 
 The purity and whiteness of my sheets, 
 Which to preserve, is sleep ; which being spotted. 
 Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps { 
 Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son 
 Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine ; 
 Without ripe moving to'tl Would I do this ? 
 Could man so blench T 
 
 Cam. I must believe you, sir 
 
 I do: and will fetch off Bohemia for't: 
 Provided, that when he's remov'd, your highness 
 Will take again your queen, as yours at first ; 
 Even for your son's sake : and, thereby, for sealing 
 The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms 
 Known and allied to yours. 
 
 Leon. . Thou dost advise me, 
 
 Even so as I mine own course have set down : 
 I'll give no blemish to her honor, none. 
 
 Cam. My lord. 
 Go then ; and with a countenance as clear 
 As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia, 
 And with your queen : I anr his cupbearer ; 
 If from me he have xvholesome beverage, 
 Account me not your servant. 
 
 Leon. This is all; 
 
 Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart; 
 DoH not, thou splifst thme own. 
 
 Cam. I'll do't, my lord. 
 
 Lean. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd 
 me. [Exit. 
 
 Cam. () miserable lady ! — Rut, for me. 
 What case stand I in ^ I must be the poisoner 
 Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do't 
 Is the obedience to a master ; one. 
 Who, in rebellion with himself, will have 
 All that are his, so too. — To do this deed. 
 Promotion follows; If 1 could find example 
 Of thousands, that had struck annointed Kings, 
 And flourish'd after. Id not do't : but since 
 Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one. 
 Let villany itself forswear't. I must 
 Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain 
 To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now ! 
 Here comes Bohemia. 
 
 Eiiler PonxEXEs. 
 
 Pol. This is strange, methinks. 
 
 My favor here begins to warp. Not speak 1 
 
 Good-day, Camillo. 
 
 Cam. Hail, most royal sir! 
 
 Pnl. What is the news i' the court? 
 
 Cam. None rare, my lord. 
 
 Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance. 
 As he had lost some province, and a region, 
 Lov'd as he loves himself: even now I 'met him 
 With customary com])iiinenl; when he. 
 Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling 
 A lip of much contempt, speeds from me: and 
 So leaves me, to consider what is breeding. 
 That changes thus his manners. 
 
 Cam. I dare not know, my lord, 
 
 Pol. How! dare not? do not. Do you know, and 
 dare not 
 Be intelligent to me ? Tis thereabouts; 
 For, to yourself, what you do know, you must ; 
 And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, 
 
 B Uasty. 1 i. e. So start off from propriety. 
 
 Your changed complexions are to me a mirror. 
 Which shows me mine changed too for I must be 
 A party in this alteration, fiiiding 
 Myself thus alter'd with it. 
 
 Cam. There is a sickness 
 
 Which puts some of us in distemper; but 
 I carmot name the di^ease ; and it is caught 
 Of you that yet are well. 
 
 Pot. How ? caught of me ! 
 
 Make me not sighted like the basilisk ! 
 I have lookd on'thousands, who liave sped the better 
 
 By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo, 
 
 As you are certainly a gentleman ; thereto 
 Clerk-like, experienced, which no less adorns 
 Our gentry, than our parents' noble names. 
 In whose success^ we are gentle,' — I beseech you. 
 If you know aught which does behove my Inowl- 
 
 edi;e 
 Thereof to be inforn'd, imprison it not 
 In ignorant concealment. 
 
 Cam. I may not answer. 
 
 Pol. A sickness caught of me. and yet 1 well ! 
 I must be answered.— Dost thou hear, Camillo, 
 I conjure thee, by all the parts of man, 
 Which honor doe's acknowledge, — whereof the least 
 Is not this suit of mine,— that thou declare 
 What incidcncy thou do.st guess of harm 
 Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; 
 Wliich way to be prevented, if to be; 
 If not, how best to bear it. 
 
 Cam. Sir, I'll tell you; 
 
 Since I am charged in honor, and by him 
 That I think honorable : Therefore, mark my coun- 
 sel ; 
 Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as 
 I mean to utter it : or both yourself and me 
 Cry, lost, and so good night. 
 
 Pol. On, good Camillo. 
 
 Cam. I am appointed him« to murder you. 
 
 Pol. By whom, Camillo ! 
 
 Cam. By the king. 
 
 Pol. For what T 
 
 Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he 
 swears. 
 .\s he had secnt, or been an instrument 
 To vicei you to't, — that you have touch'd his queen 
 Forbiddenly. 
 
 Pol. O, then my best blood turn 
 
 To an infected jelly ; and my name 
 Be yokd with his, that did betray the best ! 
 Turn then my freshest reputation to 
 A savor that may strike the dullest nostril 
 Where I arrive; and mv approach be shunn'd. 
 Nay, hated too, worse than the great's! infection 
 That e'er was heard, or read ! 
 
 Cam. Swear his thought ovtr 
 
 By each particular star in heaven, and 
 By all their iiitluences. you may as well 
 Forbid the sea for to obey the liioon, 
 .\s or by oath, remove, or counsel, shake 
 The fabric of his folly; whose fnindation 
 Is piled upon his faith, and will continue 
 Tlie stanoing of his body. 
 
 p,il. How should this grow . 
 
 Cam. I know not : but, I am sure, 'tis safer to 
 Avoid what's grown, than question how 'tis bori. 
 If therefore you dare tni.it my honesty, — 
 That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you 
 Shall bear along impawn'd,— away tonight, 
 ■i'our followers I will whisper to the business ; 
 And will, by twos, and threes, at several posterns, 
 Clear them 'o' the citv: For myself, I'll put 
 .My fortunes to your service, which are here 
 By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ; 
 For, by the honor of my parents, I 
 Have uller'd truth ; which if you seek to prove, 
 I dare not stand by ; nor shall vou be safer 
 Than one condenni'd by the king's own mouth, 
 
 thereon 
 His execution sworn. 
 
 Pol. I do believe thee : 
 
 1 saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand ; 
 Be pilot to me, and thy places shall 
 Still neighbor mine; My ships are ready, and 
 My people did expect my hence departure 
 
 Two days ago. This jealousy 
 
 Is for a precious creature: as she's rare, 
 
 ^ For succession. 
 
 a Gentle was opposed to simple ; well born. 
 
 * i. e. The person. ' Draw, 
 
234 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Must it be threat ; and, as his person's mighty, 
 
 Must it be violent ; and as he does conceive 
 
 He is dishonored by a man which ever 
 
 Profess d to him, why, liis revenges must 
 
 In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me. 
 
 Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
 
 The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing 
 
 Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come, Camillo; 
 
 I will respect thee as father, if 
 
 Thou bearst my life olf hence: Lotus avoid. 
 
 Cam. It is in mine iiulhority to command 
 The keys of all the posterns : Please your highness. 
 To take the urgent hour : come, sir, awaj'. 
 
 \,Excunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— The same. 
 Ettler HEKMioyE, Mamillics, and Ladies. 
 
 Her. Take the boy to you : he so troubles me, 
 'Tis past enduring. 
 
 1 L'id'j. Come, my gracious lord. 
 
 Shall I be your play-fellow ! 
 
 Mtitu. No, I'll none of you. 
 
 1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord ! 
 
 Main. Voull kiss me hard ; and speak to me as if 
 I were a baby still. — I love you belter. 
 
 2 Ladij. And why so, my good lord .' 
 
 M'jjit. Not for because 
 
 Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they 
 
 say, 
 Become some women best ; so that there be not 
 Ti'O much hair there, but in a semi-circle, 
 Or half-moon made with a pen. 
 
 2 Ladii. Who taught you this ? 
 
 Mjiu. I learn'd it out of women's faces.— Pray 
 now, 
 What color are your eye-brows? 
 
 1 Liidij. Blue, my lord. 
 Main. Nay, that's a mock; I have seen a lady's 
 
 nose 
 That has been blue, but not her eye-brows. 
 
 2 Lady. Hark ye; 
 The queen, your mother, rounds apace : we shall 
 Present our services to a fine new prince. 
 
 One of these days ; and then you"d wanton with us 
 If we would have you. 
 
 I Lady. She is spread of late 
 
 Into a goodly bulk : Good time encounter her ! 
 
 Hei: What wisdom stirs amongst you ] Come, 
 sir, now 
 I am fi_tr you again: Pra}' you, sit by us, 
 And tells a tale. 
 
 Main. Merry, or sad, shall t be'.' 
 
 Ha: As merry as you will. 
 
 Mam. A sad tale's best for winter : 
 
 I have one of sprites and goblins. 
 
 Htr. Let's have that, sir. 
 
 Come on, sit down : — Come on, and do your best 
 To fright me with your sprites: you're powerful 
 at it. 
 
 Main. There was a man, 
 
 Her. Nay, come, sit down ; then on. 
 
 Mum. Dwelt by a church-yard ;— I will tell it 
 softly ; 
 Yon crickets shall not hear it. 
 
 Her. Come on, then. 
 
 And give't me in mine ear. 
 
 Enter Leostes, AsTioosrs, Lords, and others. 
 
 Leon. Was he met there? his train? Camillo 
 
 with him? 
 1 Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them ; 
 
 never 
 Saw 1 men scour so on their way ; I cy'd them 
 Kvcn to tlieir ships. 
 
 Lean. How bless'd am I, 
 
 In my just censure?' in my true opinion? — 
 Alack, lor lesser knowledge! How accursd. 
 In bcinj so blest!— There may be in the cup 
 A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart. 
 And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge 
 Is not infected: but if one present 
 The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known 
 How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides. 
 ■With violent hefts :'— I have drank, and seen the 
 
 spider, 
 ramillo was his help in this, his pander : — 
 There is a plot atrainst my life, my crown ; 
 .MI'S true that is mistrusted :— that false villain 
 ■VVIiom I employed, was pre-employ'd by him: 
 Judgment. i Hcavings. 
 
 He has discover'd my design, andj 
 
 Kemain a pinch'd thing ;8 yea, a very trick 
 
 For them to play at will: — How came the posterns 
 
 So ea.sily open ? 
 
 1 Lfjrd. By his great authority ; 
 
 Which ol^en hath no less prevailed than so. 
 On yiiur command. 
 
 Leon. I know't too well. 
 
 Give me the boy; I am glad, you did not nurse him: 
 Though he does bear some signs of ine, yet you 
 Have too much blood in him. 
 
 Her. What is this ? sport ! 
 
 Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come 
 about her; 
 .\way with him : — and let her sport herself 
 With that she's big with ; for 'tis PoILxenes 
 Has made thee swell thus. 
 
 Her. But I'd say he had not, 
 
 And, I'll be sworn, you would believe my saying, 
 Howeer you lean to the nayward. 
 
 Leon. You, my lords, 
 
 Look on her, mark her well ; be but about 
 To say, she is a goodly ladii, and 
 The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 
 'Tis pity she's not honest, honorable; 
 Praise her but for this her without-door form, 
 (Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) and 
 
 straight 
 The shrug, the hum, or ha ; these petty brands, 
 That calumny doth use : — (), I am out, 
 ■That mercy does ; for calunmy will sear' 
 Virtue itself: — These shrugs, these hums, and ha's. 
 When you have said, she's goodly, come between, 
 K.re you can say she's honest : But be it known. 
 From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, 
 She's an adultress. 
 
 Her. Should a villain say so. 
 
 The most replenish'd villain in the world. 
 He were as much more villain : you, my lord. 
 Do but mistake. 
 
 Leon. You have mistook, my lady, 
 
 Polixenes for Leontes: () thou thing, 
 Which III not call a creature of thy place. 
 Lest barbarism, making me the precedent. 
 Should a like language use to all degrees. 
 And mannerly distinguishment leave out 
 Betwixt the prince aiid beggar !— I have said, 
 She's an adultress; I have said with whom: 
 More, she's a traitor ; and Camillo is 
 A fedary' with her; and one that knows 
 What .she should shame lo know herself, 
 Buf with her most vile principal, that she's 
 A bed-swerver, even as bad as those 
 That yulgars give bold titles ; ay, and privy 
 To this their late escape. 
 
 Her. No, by my life, 
 
 Privy to none of this: IIow will tnis grieve you. 
 When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that 
 You thus have publish'd iiie ! Genlle my lord. 
 You scarce can right me thoroughly then, to say 
 Vou did mistake. 
 
 t^eon. No, no ; if I mistake 
 
 In those foundations which 1 build upon, 
 The centre is not big enough to bear 
 A school-boy's top.— Away with her to prison : 
 Hi', who shall speak for her, is afar off giiilty,a 
 But that he speaks.« 
 
 Her. There's some ill planet reigns: 
 
 1 must be patient, till the heavens look 
 With an aspect more liivorable. Good my lords, 
 I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
 Commonly are; the want of which vain dew. 
 Perchance, shall dry our pities: but I have 
 That honorable grief lodg'd here, which burns 
 
 a A thing pinrbej out of clouts, a puppet. 
 
 9 Hniiul as iDfamous. i Confttler.'.lTii. ^ Only. 
 
 3 Itc'uiotcly guilty. « In merely speaking. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 235 
 
 Worse than tears drown: Beseech 50U all, my lords, 
 With Ihouglits so qmlifiod as your charities 
 Shall best instruct you, measure me; — and so 
 The king's will be perform'd! 
 
 Leon. Shall I be heard ? 
 
 [To the Guards. 
 
 Her Wl»-, is't that goes witli me!— 'Beseech 
 your highness, 
 My women may be with nic; fur, you see. 
 My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools; 
 There is no cause: wlien you shall know your 
 
 mistress 
 Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears, 
 As I come out: this action, I now go on. 
 Is for my better grace. — Adieu, my lord : 
 I never wishM to see you sorry ; now, 
 I trust, I shall.— My women, come ; you have leave. 
 
 Leon. Go do our bidding; hence. 
 
 [Exeunt Quken and Ladies. 
 
 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the queen 
 again. 
 
 Ant. Be certain what you do, sir; lest your justice 
 Prove violence; in the which three great ones sutler, 
 yoursell", your queen, your son. 
 
 1 L'jrd. For her, my lord, 
 
 I dare my life lay down, and will do't, sir. 
 Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless 
 I'the eyes of heaven, and to you ; 1 mean. 
 In this which you accuse her. 
 
 .4/1/. If it prove 
 
 She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where 
 I lodge my wife ; I'll go in couples with her ; 
 Than wlien I feel, and see her, no further trust her ; 
 For every inch of woman in the world. 
 Ay, every drain of woman's flesh, is false, 
 If she be. 
 
 Leon. Hold your peaces. 
 
 1 Liird. Good my lord, — 
 
 Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves: 
 You are abused, and by some putter on, 
 Thatv\'ill be damn'dfor't; would 1 knew the villain, 
 I would land-damn him : Be she lionor-rlaw'd, — 
 I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven ; 
 The second, and the third, nine, and some five; 
 If this prove true, they 11 pay for't : by mine honor, 
 I'll geld them all; fourteen they shall not see. 
 To bring false generations: they are co-heus; 
 And I had rather glib myself, than they 
 •Should not produce fair issue. 
 
 Leon. Cease ; no more. 
 
 You smell this business with a sense as cold 
 As is a dead man's nose: I sect and feelt. 
 As you feel doing thus; and see withal 
 The instruments that feel. 
 
 Ant. If it be so, 
 
 We need no grave to bury honesty ; 
 ■There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten 
 Of the whole dungy earth. 
 
 Leon. What ! lack I credit? 
 
 1 Lord. I had rather you did lack, than I, my lord, 
 Upon this ground: and more it would content me 
 To have her honor true, than your suspicion ; 
 Be blam'd for't how you might. 
 
 Leon. Why, what need we 
 
 Commune with you of this? but rather follow 
 Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative 
 Calls not your councils; but our natural goodness 
 Imparts this: which — if you (or stupitied. 
 Or seeming so in skill) cannot, or will not, 
 Relish as truth, like us; inform yourselves, 
 We need no more of your advice; the matter, 
 The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all 
 Properly ours. 
 
 Ant. And I wish, my liege. 
 
 You had only in your silent judgment tried it, 
 Without more overture. 
 
 Leon. How could that be? 
 
 Either thou art most ignorant by age. 
 Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight. 
 Added to their familiarity, 
 
 (Which was as gross as ever touched- conjecture. 
 That lack'd sight only, nought for ajiprobation,* 
 But only seeing, all oiher circumstances 
 Mad- up to the deed.) doth push on this proceeding: 
 Yet, for a greater confirmation, 
 (For, in act of this importance, 'twere 
 Most piteous to be wild.) 1 have despatch'd in post. 
 To sacred Uelphos, to Apollo's temple, 
 Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know 
 s Proof 
 
 of stuff d sufiiciency :'i Now, from the oracle 
 They will bring all ; whose spiritual counsel had. 
 Shall stop or spur me. Have 1 done well? 
 
 1 Lord. Weil done, my lord. 
 
 Leon. Though 1 am satisfied, and need no more 
 Than what 1 know, yet shall the oracle 
 Give rest to the minds of others; such as he, 
 Whose ignorant credulity will not 
 Come up to the truth : bo we have thought it good, 
 From our free person she should be coutmed ; 
 Lest the treachery of the two, lied hence, 
 He left her to perform. Come, follow us; 
 We are to speak in public : for this business 
 Will raise us all. 
 
 Ant. lAxiie.] To laughter, as I take it. 
 If the good truth were known. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— r^e outer Room of a Prison. 
 
 Enter Pauiixa end Attendants. 
 
 Paul. The keeper of the prison, — call to him : — 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 Let him have Knowledge who 1 am — Good lady !, 
 No court 111 Europe is too good for thee, 
 What dost thou tiien in prison \ — Now, good sir, 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, rcitk Ike Keeper. 
 You know me, do you not ? 
 
 Kecji. For a worthy lady, 
 
 And one whom much I lionor. 
 
 Paul. Pray you, then, 
 
 Conduct me to the queen. 
 
 Keep. 1 may not, madam ; to the contrary 
 I have express commandment. 
 
 Paul. Here's ado, 
 
 To lock up honesty and honor from 
 The access of gentle visitors I — Is it lawful, 
 Pray you, to sec her women ? any of them ? 
 Emilia I 
 
 Keep. So please you, madam, to put 
 Apart these your attendants, I shall bring 
 Emilia tbrtli. 
 
 Paul. I pray now, call her. 
 
 Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt Attend. 
 
 Keep. And, madam, 
 
 I must be present at your conference. 
 
 Paul. \\ ell, be it so, prythee. [Exit Keeper 
 Here's such ado to make no stain a stain, 
 As passes coloring. 
 
 Re-enter Keeper, with E-wilia. 
 Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady ? 
 
 Emit. .\!- well as one so great, and so forlorn, 
 May hold together: On her frights and griefs, 
 (Which never tender lady hath borne greater,) 
 She IS, something before her time, dehver'd. 
 
 Paul. X boy ? 
 
 Emit. A daughter, and a goodly babe, 
 
 Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives 
 Much comfort in'l : says. My poor prisoner, 
 I am innocent us you. 
 
 Paul. I dare be sworn : 
 
 These dangerous unsafe tunes'' o' the kmg! beshrew 
 
 them ! 
 He must be told on't, and he shall : the office 
 Becomes a woman best; I'll tak't upon me : 
 If 1 prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister; 
 And m^ver to my red-lookd anger be 
 The trumpet any more: Pray you, Emilia, 
 Commena my best obedience to the queen ; 
 If she dare trust me with her little babe, 
 I'll show't the king, and undertake to be 
 Her advocate to th' loudest: We do not know 
 How he may soften at the sight 0' the child ; 
 The silence often of pure innocence 
 Persuades, when speaking fails. 
 
 Emit. Most worthy madam, 
 
 Your honor, and your goodness, is so evident, 
 That your free undertaking cannot miss 
 A thriving issue; there is no lady living 
 So meet for this great errand: Please' your ladyship 
 To visit the next room, I'll presently 
 Acquaint the queen of your most noble ofl"er; 
 Who, but to-day, hammer d of this design ; 
 But durst not tempt a minister of honor. 
 Lest she should be denied. 
 
 Paul- Tell her, Emilia, 
 
 I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from it, 
 
 6 of abilities more than euflicitlit. 
 
 1 Limac-ies, tits of madDess. 
 
23G 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 As boldness frofn my bosom, let it not be doubted 
 1 shall do good. 
 
 Eitiil. Now, be you blest for it ! 
 
 I'll to the queen: Please you, come something 
 nearer. 
 
 Keep. Miidara, if 't please the queen to send the 
 babe, 
 I know not what I shall incur, to pass it, 
 Havinj^ no warrant. 
 
 FauL You need not fear it, sir: 
 
 Tlie child was prisoner to the womb; and is, 
 Ry law and process of great nature, thence 
 Freed and enfranchised: not a parly to 
 The an;j;er of the king ; nor guilty of, 
 If any be, the trespass of the queen. 
 
 Keep. 1 do believe it, 
 
 Paul. Do not you fear: upon 
 
 Mine honor, I will stand 'twixt you and danger. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — A Room in the Pakice. 
 
 Enter Leontks, Anttroxus, Lords, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 Leon. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but 
 weakness 
 To bear the matter thus ; mere weakness, if 
 The cause were not in being ; — part o'the cause. 
 She, the adultrcss;— for the harlot king 
 Is quite beyond mine arm, out of tlie blank 
 And level of my brain, plot-proof: but she 
 I can hook to me : Say, that she were gone, 
 Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest 
 Jlight come to me again. Who's there T 
 
 \ Alt en. My lord? 
 
 [Advancing. 
 
 Leon. How does the boy 1 
 
 1 At fen. He took good rest to-night: 
 
 *Tis hopd, his sickness is discharged. 
 
 Leon. To see 
 
 His nobleness! 
 
 Conceiving the dishonor of his mother, 
 Pie straight dechned, droop'd, took it deeply; 
 Fastend and fix'd the shame on't in himself; 
 Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, 
 And downright languish'd.— Leave me solely :« — go 
 See how he^ fares. [Exit Attend.] — Fye, fye! no 
 
 thought of him; 
 The very thought of my revenges that way 
 Recoil upon me ; in himself too migiUy ; 
 And in his parties, his alliance, — Let iiim be, 
 Until a time may serve : for nresent vengeance, 
 Take it on her. Caniillo and Polixenes 
 Laugh at me ; make their pastime at my sorrow: 
 They should not laugh if I could reach them; nor 
 Shall she, within my power. 
 
 Enter Paulina, loith a Child. 
 
 I Lord. You must not enter, 
 
 Faul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to 
 me: 
 Fear you liis tyrannous passion more, alas. 
 Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul ; 
 More free, than he is jealous. 
 
 Ant. That's enough. 
 
 1 Atten. Madam, he hath not slept to-night ; 
 commanded 
 None should come at him. 
 
 Pant. Not so hot, good sir; 
 
 I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, — 
 That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh 
 At each his needless heaving, — such as you 
 Nourish the cause of his awalviiig : I 
 Do come with words as med'cinal as true ; 
 Honest, as either; to purge him of that humor, 
 That presses him from sleep. 
 
 Leon. What noise there, ho? 
 
 Paul. No noise, my lord ; but needful conference. 
 About some gossips for your highness. 
 
 Leon. How? 
 
 Away with that audacious lady: Antitronus, 
 
 1 charged thee, that she should not come about me; 
 
 I knew, she would. 
 
 Ant. I told her so, my lord, 
 
 On your displeasure's peril, and on mine, 
 She should not visit you. 
 
 Leon. What, canst not rule her? 
 
 Paul. From all dishonesty, he can ; in this 
 (Unless he take the course that you have done, 
 
 8 AJoue. 
 
 Commit me, for committing honor,) trust it, 
 He shall not rule me. 
 
 Auf. Lo you now ; you hear ! 
 
 When she will take the rein, 1 let her run ; 
 liut shell not stumble. 
 
 Paul. Good my liege, I come, — 
 
 And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess 
 Myself your loyal servant, your physician. 
 Your most obedient counsellor ; yet that dare 
 Less appear so, in comforting your evils,' 
 Thau such as most seem yours: — I say, I come 
 From your good queen. 
 
 Leon. Good queen! 
 
 Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I say 
 good queen ; 
 And would by coinl)at make her good, so were I 
 A man, the worst' about you. 
 
 Leon. Force her hence. 
 
 Paul. Let him, that makes but trifles of his eyo6, 
 First hand me: on mine own accord, I'll off; 
 Hut first, ril do my errand. — The good queen. 
 For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; 
 Here "tis; commends it to your blessing. 
 
 [La>/ing duivn the Child. 
 
 Leo7i. Out ! 
 
 A very mankind'* witch! Hence with her, outo'door: 
 A most intelhgencing bawd! 
 
 Paul. Not so: 
 
 I am as i°:norant in that, as you 
 In so entitling me : and no less honest 
 Than you are mad : which is enough, I'll warrant, 
 As this world goes, to pass for honest. 
 
 Leon. Traitors ! 
 
 Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard:— 
 Thou, dotard, [To Antigoxus.] thou art woman- 
 tired, ^ unroosted 
 By tliy dame Parllet here. — take up the bastard ; 
 TakeU up, I say; give't to thy crone.* 
 
 Paul. For ever 
 
 Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou 
 Tak'st up the princess, by that forced' baseness 
 Which he has put upon't! 
 
 Leon. tie dreads his wife. 
 
 Paul. So, I would, you did: then, 'twere past all 
 doubt. 
 You'd call your children yours. 
 
 Leon. A nest of traitors! 
 
 Ant. I am none, by this good light. 
 
 Paul. Nor I ; nor any, 
 
 But one, that's here ; and that's himself: for he 
 The sacred honor of himself, his queen's. 
 His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, 
 Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; ajid will 
 
 not 
 (For as the case now stands, it is a curse 
 He cannot be compell'd to't) once remove 
 The root of his opinion, which is rotten. 
 As ever oak, or stone, was sound. 
 
 Leon. A cullat,« 
 
 Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her hus- 
 band, 
 And now baits me !— This brat is none of mine ; 
 It is the issue of Polixenes: 
 Hence with it; and, together with the dam. 
 Commit them to the fire. 
 
 Paul. It is yours; 
 
 And, might we lay the old provfh to your charge, 
 So like you, 'lis the worse. — Behold, my lords, 
 Although the print be little, the whole matter 
 And copy of the fither: eye, nose, lip. 
 The trick of his frown, his foreiiead; nay, the valley, 
 Tlie pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his 
 
 smiles ; 
 The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger : — 
 And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it 
 So like to him that got it, if thou hast 
 The ordering of the mind too, 'moiigst all colors 
 No yellow 'in't; lest she suspect as he does, 
 Her children not her husband's ! 
 
 Leon. A gross hag ! — 
 
 And, lozel,' thou art worthy to be hang'd. 
 That wilt not stay her tongue. 
 
 Ant. Hang all the husbands 
 
 That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself 
 Hardly one subject. 
 
 " Abetting your ill courses. • Lowest, 
 
 a Masculine ' Pecked by a woman; hen-pecked. 
 
 * Worn out old womnn. 
 
 i Forced is falso ; uttered with Tiolonci' to truth. 
 
 « Trull, •• The color of jealousy, e Worthless fellow. 
 
Act. III. Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 •237 
 
 Lr:on. Once move, lake her hence. 
 
 Paul. A most unwortliy and unnatural lord 
 Can i!o no mi)re. 
 
 Leon. I'll have thee burn'd. 
 
 Puul. I care not : 
 
 It is an heretic, that makes the lire, 
 Not she, whicli biu'ns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; 
 But this inost cruel usa;^e of your queen 
 (Not able to produce more accusation 
 Than your own weak-hinged I'ancy) somethijig 
 
 savors 
 Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, 
 Yea, scandalous to tlie world. 
 
 Lenn. On your allegiance. 
 
 Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant, 
 'VVhere were her hfe T she durst not call me so. 
 If she did know nie one. Away with her. 
 
 Puul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. 
 Look to your babe, my lord ; 'tis yours : Jove send 
 
 her 
 A better guiding spirit! — What need these hands! — 
 You, that arc thus so tender o'er his follies, 
 Will never do him good, not one of you. 
 So, so: — Farewell; we are gone. \_ExU. 
 
 Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. — 
 My child? away wilh't! even thou, that hast 
 A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, 
 And see it insUrntly consumed with Hre ; 
 Kven thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight: 
 Within this hour bring me word 'lis done, 
 (And by good testimony,) or III seize thy life. 
 With wbat tiiou else call'st thine: If thou refuse, 
 And will encounter with my wrath, say so ; 
 The bastard brains with these my proper hands 
 Shall 1 dash out. Co, take it to the fire; 
 For thou sett'st on thy wife. 
 
 Aut. 1 did not, sir: 
 
 These lords, mynoble fellows, if they please, 
 Can clear me int. 
 
 1 Liird. We can ; my royal liege, 
 
 He is not guilty of her coinmg hither. 
 
 L^^nn. Vou are liars all. 
 
 1 Lor:h 'Beseech your highness, give us better 
 credit; 
 We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech 
 So to esteem of us : And on our knees we beg, 
 (As recompense of our dear sen'ices. 
 Past, and to come,) that you do change this purpose; 
 Which being so horrible, so bloody, must 
 Lead on to some foul issue : We all kneel. 
 
 Leon., I am a feather for each wind that blows: — 
 Shall I live on, lo see this bastard kneel 
 And call me father'! Better bum it now, 
 Than curse it then. But, be it ; let it live : 
 It shall not neitlier. — You, sii, come you hither; 
 
 \To .\ntigo:«us. 
 You, that have been so tenderly officious 
 
 With lady Marjory, your midwile, there. 
 To save liiis bastard's life: — I'or 'tis a ba-^tard. 
 So sure as this beard's grey, — what will you adven- 
 ture 
 To save this brat's life ? 
 
 .iuf. Any thing, my lord. 
 
 That mv ability may undergo, 
 \nd nobleness impose: at least thus much ; 
 I'll pawn the httle blood which I have left. 
 To save tiie innocent : any thing poss.lile. 
 
 Len?i. It shall be possible : swear by this sword,' 
 Thou wilt perform my bidding. 
 
 A lit. I will, my lord. 
 
 Leon. Mark, and perform it; (sces't thou?) for 
 the fail 
 Of any point in't shall not only be 
 Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-'tongued wife; 
 Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee, 
 As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carrv' 
 This female bastard hence ; and that thou 'bear it 
 To some remote and desert place, quite out 
 Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it. 
 Without more mercy, to its own protection. 
 And favor of the eli'mate. As by strange fortune 
 It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, — 
 On thy soul's peril, aiid thy body's torture. — 
 That thou commend it strangely to soine place,' 
 Where chance may nurse or end it : Take it up. 
 
 Anf. I swear to do this, though a present death 
 Had been more merciful. — Come on, poor babe : 
 Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, 
 To be thy nurses ! Wolves and bears, they say, 
 Casting their savageness aside, ijave done 
 Like offices of pity,, — Sir, be prosperous 
 In more than this 'deed doth require! and blessing, 
 Against this cruelty, fight on thy side. 
 Poor thing, condemn'd to loss ! 
 
 [Erit tfith the Child. 
 
 Lenn. No, I'll not rear 
 
 Another's issue. 
 
 1 Atlen. Please your highness, posts, 
 
 From those you sent to the oracle, arc come 
 An hour since: CIcomenes and Dion, 
 Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed. 
 Hasting to the court. 
 
 1 jMrd. So please you, sir, their speed 
 
 Hath been beyond account. 
 
 Le.on. Twenty-three days 
 
 They have been absent: 'Tis good speed ; foretells, 
 The great Apollo suddenly will have 
 The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; 
 Summon a session, that we may arraign 
 Our most disloyal latly : for as she hath 
 Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have 
 .\ just and open tri,al. While she lives. 
 My heart will be a burden to mc. Leave me ; 
 And think upon my bidding. [Kxeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCF-NF. I.— ,4 Street m some Town. 
 £)!/er Cleomeses and Diov. 
 
 Cleo. The climate's delicate; the air most sweet ; 
 Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing 
 The common praise it bears. 
 
 Dujn. I shall report. 
 
 For most it caught me, the celestial habits, 
 (Methinks,l should so term them,) and the reve- 
 rence 
 Of tlic grave wearers. O, the sacrifice ! 
 How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 
 It was i' the offering ! 
 
 Cleo. But, of all, the burst 
 
 And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle. 
 Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense. 
 That I vva5 nothing. 
 
 Dion. If the event o' the journey 
 
 Prove as successful to the queen, — 0, he'l so 1^ 
 As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, 
 The time is worth tlie use on't. 
 
 Cleo. Great Apollo, 
 
 Turn all to the best ! These proclamations, 
 So forcing faults upon Hermione, 
 I little like. 
 
 Dion. The violent carriage of it 
 
 'WUl clear, or ond, the business: When the oracle. 
 
 (Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up.) 
 Shall the contents discover, sometbimr rare, 
 
 Kven then, will rush to knowledge. Go, — fresh 
 
 horses ; — 
 And gracious be the issue ! [Exeunt- 
 
 SCENE II.— ,4 Court of Justice. 
 Leovtrs, Lords, and Oflicers, appear i}roperli/ 
 seuteil. 
 Leon. This sessions (to our great grief, we pro- 
 nounce) 
 Even pushes gainst our heart: The party tried, 
 'rhe daughter of a kin^; our wife; and one 
 Of us too much belov'd. — Let us be clear'd 
 of being tyrannous, since we so openly 
 Proceed in justice ; whicii shall have due course, 
 
 K.ven^ to the guih, or the purgation. 
 
 Produce the prisoner. 
 
 Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen 
 Appear in person here in court. — Silence ! 
 
 Heioiion'e 15 brought in, ^uai-ded; Patlixa and 
 Ladies attending. 
 
 L(un. Read the indictment. 
 
 9 It was anciently a practice to swear by the cross at 
 the hilt of the sword. 
 
 'i. £. Commit it to some place as a stranger. ^EqulJ. 
 
238 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Offi.. Heriiiione, qiiei;i) io the icorlhy Leontes. 
 liiiiii, rj/"Sicilia, ihuu art here accused and arraif^ncd 
 of higk treason, in cuiiiinittin^ adultery witti Po- 
 lixeiies, Jzing /{/" lioticniia ; and cont^pirln^ xtitti 
 Ciimtllo tu tulie away tfte life (f our soctrei^a lord 
 tfie king, tky royal liunbaiid; iti^ pretence^ whereof 
 being bi/ circumstances partly laid open, tkou, 
 Hcriiiioiie. contrary to tlie faitli and alle/;iunce of 
 a true subject, didst counsel and aid litem, for 
 ilieir littler safety, tnjly away by nig/it. 
 
 Her. Since what 1 ain to say, must bu but thai 
 "Which contradicts my accusation; and 
 The testimony on my part, no otiier 
 But what comes from myself; it shall scarce boot me 
 To say, Nut guilty : mine integriiy, 
 Beini coniited falsehood, shall, as 1 express it. 
 Be so rcceiv'd. but thus,— If powers divme 
 Behold our human actions, (as they do.) 
 I doubt not tliea, but inaocence shall make 
 False accusation blush, and tyranny 
 Tremble at patience.— Vou, my lord, best know, 
 (Who least will seem to do so,) iny past life 
 ilath been as contment, as chaste, as true, 
 As I am now unhappy ; which is more 
 Than history can pattern, though devisM, 
 And play d to take spectators: For behold me, — 
 A fellow of the royal bed, which owe< 
 A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, 
 The niotlier to a hopeful prince, — here standing 
 To prate and talk for life, and honor, 'fore 
 Wlio please to come and hear, tor life, 1 prize it, 
 As I weigh grief, which 1 would spare: for honor, 
 Tis a derivative from me to mine. 
 And only that 1 stand for. 1 appeal 
 To your conscience, sir, before"Pohxenes 
 Came to your court, how 1 was in your grace, 
 How merited to be so; since he came, 
 With what encounter so uncurreiit I 
 Have strain d to apjiear thus: if one jot beyond 
 The bound of honor; or, in act, or will. 
 That way inclining; haiden'd be the hearts 
 Of all tliat hear me, and my near'st of kin 
 Cry, Fye upon my grave ! 
 
 Leon. 1 ne'er heard yet. 
 
 That any of these bolder vices wanted 
 Less impudence to gainsay what they did, 
 Than to ijerform it first. 
 
 Her. That's true enough ; 
 
 Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to mc. 
 
 Leon. You will not own it. 
 
 Her. ■ More than mistress of, 
 
 Which comes to me in iionie of fault, I must not 
 At all aeknowkdge. For Pohxenes, 
 (VVitli whom 1 am accused,) 1 do confess, 
 I lov d him, as m honor he required; 
 With such a kind of love, as might become 
 A lady like me ; with a love, even such. 
 So, and no other, as yourself commanded : 
 Which not to have done, 1 lliink, had been in me 
 Both disobedience and ingratitude, 
 To you, and toward your friend ; whose love had 
 
 sjroke. 
 Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely, 
 That It was yours. Now, for conspiracy, 
 I know not how it tastes ; thoug!-. it be dislfd 
 For me to try how : all 1 know of it 
 Is, that fainillo was an honest man ; 
 And, why he left >our court, the gods themselves. 
 Wotting no more than 1, are ignorant. ' 
 
 Leun. You knew of his departure, as you know 
 ■What you have undorta'eii to do in his absence. 
 
 Her. Sir, 
 Y'ou speak a language that I understand not : 
 My hie stands in the level,' of your dream.s, 
 Which I'll lay down. 
 
 Leon. Your actions are my dreams ; 
 
 Y'ou had a bastard by I'ohxenes, 
 And 1 butdream'd it:— As you were past all shame, 
 ( Thoie of your fact' are so,) so past all truth: 
 Which to deny, concerns more than avails: 
 For as 
 
 Thy brat Iiath been cast out, like to ilself, 
 No father owning it, (which is. indeed, f 
 
 More criminal m thee, than it,) so thou 
 Shalt feel our justice ; m whose easiest passage, 
 Look for no less than death. 
 
 Her. Sir, spare your threats; 
 
 The hug, which you would fright me with, 1 seek. 
 
 3 SolliMiie lai.l. * Own. pn.'Jsess. 
 
 » Ts H ithiu the roach. '^ Thoy who have done lil:c you. 
 
 To me can life be no coinmodity : 
 
 The crown and comfort of my life, your favor, 
 
 I do give lost; for 1 do feel it gone, 
 
 But know not how it went: My second joy. 
 
 And first fruits of my body, from his presence, 
 
 I am barrd Uke one infectious: My tiiird comfort; 
 
 Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast. 
 
 The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, 
 
 Haled out to murder : Myself on every post 
 
 I'roclaim'd a strumpcl; "iVith immodest hatred, 
 
 The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs 
 
 I'o women of all fashion :— Lastly, hurried 
 
 Here to this place, i the open air, before 
 
 I have got strength of limit.' Now, my liege, 
 
 Tell me what blessings I have here alive. 
 
 That 1 should fear to die ! Therefore, proceed. 
 
 lint yet, hear this; mistake me not ; No ! life, 
 
 1 prize It not a straw :— but for mine honor, 
 (Which I would free,) if 1 sliaU be condcmn'd 
 Upon surmises ; all proofs sleeping else. 
 But what your jealousies awake; 1 tell you, 
 ' ri* rigor, and not law. — Y'our lionors all, 
 I do refer me to the oracle ; 
 Apollo be my judge. 
 
 1 Lord. This your request 
 
 Is altogether just : therefore, bring lorlh, 
 And m .Apollo's name, his oracle. 
 
 \Kxeant certain Officers 
 
 Her. The emperor of Russia was my father : 
 O, that he were alive, and here beholding 
 His daughter's trial ! that he did but see 
 The flatness of my misery ; yet with eyes 
 Of pity, not revenge ! 
 
 Re-enter Officers with Clkomf.nes and Diojr. 
 
 Offi. Y'ou liere shall swear upon tliis sword of 
 justice, 
 .That you, Cleomencs and Dion, have 
 lieen both at Delphos; and from thence have brought 
 'fhis seal'd up oracle, by the hand deliver d 
 Of great Apollo's priest: and that, since then, 
 You have not dared to break the lioly seal. 
 Nor read the secrets int. 
 
 Cleo. Din. All this we swear. 
 
 Leon. Break up the seals and read. 
 
 Ofli. iReads.] Hermione U cliuste, Polixenes 
 blameless. Camiilo a true suli/ecl, Leontes a Jeal- 
 ous torunt, Aia innocent babe truly begotten i and 
 the king thall live without an heir, if that, which 
 is lost, he not found. 
 
 Lords. K ovv blessed be the great Apollo ! 
 
 Her, Praised. 
 
 Leon. Hast thou read truth ! 
 
 Offi. Ay, my lord ; even so 
 
 ,\s It is here set down. 
 
 Leon. There is no truth at .ill i'the oracle: 
 The sessions shall proceed ; this is mere falsehood. 
 
 Enter a Servant, hastily. 
 
 Serv. My lord the king, the king ! 
 
 X,f„)j. What is the business ! 
 
 Serv. sir, I shall be hated to report it: 
 The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear 
 Of the queen's speed,' is goiie. 
 
 Leon. How! gone? 
 
 Serv. ^^ dead, 
 
 Leon. Apollo's angry: and the heavens them- 
 selves , . J , „ 
 Dostrike at my injustice. [HEUMioNE/ui»fc.] How 
 now there ! 
 
 Paul. This news is mortal to the queen :— Look 
 down, 
 \nd see what death is doing. 
 
 Lf„n. Take her hence: 
 
 Her heart is but o'ercharged ; she will recover — 
 I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion : — 
 Beseech you, tenderly apply to her 
 Some remedies for life.— Apollo, pardon 
 
 [Exeunt P.tuLiN.t and Ladies, with Herm. 
 My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle !— 
 I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ; ^ „ .„ 
 New woo my queen; recall the good Camillo, 
 Whom I proclaim a man of truth, ol mercy : 
 For, being transported by my jealousies 
 To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose 
 Camillo for the minister, to poison 
 
 1 I c The degree of strength which it ia customary to 
 aciiuire l«.-fore women arc BUlTcrcd to go abroaj aOt* 
 chiia-bcaring. . 
 
 « Of the event of the queen's trial. 
 
Scene 111. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 239 
 
 My friend Poiixriies: wltirli had bren done, 
 But that the pood tiiiiid of Caiiiillr) tardied 
 I\lj- swift command, though I with death, and with 
 Jieward, did threaten and eiicoura{:e him. 
 Not doinii; it, and beitiji done : he, most humane, 
 And fiird witli Iionor, to my kinf^ly puest 
 Unc]a<p"d my practice; quit his fortunes here, 
 Wliich you knew great ; and to the certain hazard 
 cf all incertainties himself commended. 
 No richer than his honor: — How he glisters 
 Through my rust! and how his piety 
 Does my deeds make the blacker ! 
 Re-enter PArLixA. 
 
 Pant. Woe the while ! 
 
 n, cut my lace ; lest my heart, cracking it, 
 Break too ! 
 
 1 Loril. What fit is this, good ladvl 
 
 Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? 
 What wheels? racks! fires! What flaying! boiling, 
 In leads, or oils ! what old, or newer torture 
 Must I receive; wliose every word deserves - 
 To taste of thy most worst ! Thy tyranny 
 Together working with tliy jealousies, — 
 Fancies too weak for boys." too green and Idle 
 For girls of nine !— O, think, what they have done. 
 And then run mad, indeed ; stark mad ! for all 
 Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. 
 That thou betray'dst Polixencs, 'twas nothing; 
 That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant. 
 And danniable ungrateful: nor wast much. 
 Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honor, 
 To have Iiini kill a "king ; poor trespasses, 
 More monstrou.s standing oy : whereof I reckon 
 The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter. 
 To be or none, or little ; though a devil 
 Would have shed water out of fire,» ere done't; 
 Nor ist directly laid to thee, the death 
 Of tlie young prince, who.^e honorable thoughts 
 (Thoughts hlirh for one so tender) cleft the heart 
 That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire 
 Blemish d his gracious dam: this is not, no. 
 Laid to thy answer : But the last.— (), lord.s. 
 When I have said, cry, woe !— the queen, the queen, 
 The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead ; and ven- 
 geance for't 
 Not droppd down jet. • 
 
 1 X/Orrf. The higher powers forbid .' 
 
 Paul. I say. she's dead; I'U swear't: if word, 
 nor oath, 
 Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring 
 Tincture or lustre, in her lip. her eye. 
 Heat outwardly, or breath within. I'll serve you 
 As I would do the gods.— But. O thou tyrant ! 
 Do not repent the.se things ; for they are heavier 
 Than all thy woes can stir : therefore betake thee 
 To nothing hut despair. A thousand knees 
 Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 
 Vpon a barren mountain, and still winter 
 In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
 To look that way thou wert. 
 
 Leon. Go on, go on : 
 
 Thou canst not speak too much : I have deserVd 
 Ail tongues to talk their bitterest. 
 
 1 I-nr(t. <!ay no more ; 
 
 Howe'cr the business goes, you have made fault 
 rtlie boldness of your speech. 
 
 Paul. I am sorry for't ; 
 
 All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, 
 1 do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much 
 The rashness of a woman : he is louch'd 
 To the noble heart.— What's gone, and what's past 
 
 help. 
 Should be past grief: Do not receive alTliction 
 At my petition, I beseech you ; ratlier 
 Let me be punish'd. that have minded yon 
 Of what you should fori.'et. Now, good my lice. 
 Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman : ° 
 
 The love I bore your queen,— lo, fool again !— 
 Ml speak of her no more, nor of your children ; 
 1 11 not remember you of my own lord. 
 Who is lost too : Take your patience to you. 
 And I'll say nothing. 
 
 „.^^o"- Thou didst speak but well. 
 
 \\ hen most the truth; which I receive much better 
 Than to be pitied of thee. Prythee. bring me 
 To the dead bodies of my queen and son : 
 One grave shall be for both; upon them shall 
 
 • 1 f. A devil wniiM hnre shed ti-nrs of ritv, erp he 
 woTllJ Lave periietnitud fuch ;tu a tion. 
 
 The causes of their death appear, unto 
 
 Our shame perpetual : once a day 111 visit 
 
 The chajiel where they lie ; and tears shed there, 
 
 .^liall be my recreation : So Ions as 
 
 Nature will bear up with this exercise. 
 
 So long 1 daily vow to use it. Come, 
 
 .\nd lead me to these sorrows. [_E.retini, 
 
 SCENE III.— Bohemia. A de.seri Cuunlry near 
 ilie Sea. 
 
 Enter AxTioosrs, with the Child ; and a M.ariner. 
 
 Ant. Thou art 'perfect" then, our ship hath 
 touch'd ujion 
 The deserts of Buhcmia T 
 
 Miir. .\y, my lord, and fear 
 
 We have landed in ill tiine : the skies look grimly, 
 .\nd threaten present blusters. In my conscience, 
 The heavens with that we have in hand are angry, 
 .\nd frown upon us. 
 
 Ant. Their sacred wills he done! — Go. sret aboard; 
 Look to thy bark; 111 not be long, before 
 I call upon thee. 
 
 Mitr. Make your best haste; and go not 
 Toi) lar i'the land : 'tis like to be loud weither ; 
 Besides, this place is t'amous for the creatu.es 
 Of prey, that keep upon't. 
 
 An/. Go thou away: 
 
 I'll fiillow instantly. 
 
 M'ir. • I am glad at lieart 
 
 To he so rid o'the business. {Exit. 
 
 A nt. Come, poor babe : 
 
 I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the 
 
 dead 
 May walk again : if .such thing be. thy mother 
 Appear'd to me last night; for'ne'crwas dream 
 So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 
 Sonietimes her iiead tin one side, some another ; 
 I never saw a vessel of like sorrow. 
 So fill'd, and so becoming ; in pure white robes, 
 Like very sanctity, she did approach 
 My cabin where 1 lay : thrice bow'd before mc; 
 And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
 Became two spouts; the fury spent, anon 
 Did this break from her; Good Antigonus, 
 Sinrefate, anainst tli\i belter rilsposiliim, 
 Hitti made tliy perfoii far I fie throuer-imt 
 Of my poor bade, accordinx tii l/Une (latlt. — 
 Places remote enough are in BoI;emia, 
 There weep, and leave it cnjing,- and, fur iht babe 
 Is counted lost fur evtr, Perdita, 
 Iprifthee, calt't; fur thi.t uns:en/te business. 
 Put 0)1 thee hu my lord. Ihou ne'er shall see 
 Thy wife Paulina more: — and so, with shrieks, 
 Shi' melted into air. .^lii-ightcd much. 
 1 did in time collect myself; and thought 
 This was so, and no slumber. Preanis are toys; 
 \e\, for this once. yea. snperstiliously, 
 I will be squared by this. I do believe, 
 llermione hath sulicr'd death; and that 
 .■\pollo would, this being indeed the issue 
 Of king Polixenes. it should here he laid. 
 Either for life, or death, ujion the earth 
 Of its right father.— Blossom, speed thee well ! 
 
 [Laying down the Child. 
 There lie ; and there thy cbaracter:^ there these ; 
 
 [Laying down a bundle. 
 Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, 
 pretty. 
 
 And still rest thine. The storm begins; — Poor 
 
 wretch. 
 That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd 
 To loss, and what may follow !— Weep I cannot. 
 But my heart bleeds and most accurs'd am I, 
 To he by oath enjoin'd to this.- Farewell! 
 The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have 
 \ lullaby toorouirh: I never saw 
 The heavens so dim by day. ;\ savage clamor ! — 
 Well may 1 gel aboard !— This is the chase; 
 I am gone forever. [Exit, pursued bij a B:ar. 
 
 Enter an old Shepherd. 
 
 Shep. I would there were no age between ten 
 and three and twenty ; or that youth would sleep 
 out the rest: for there is nothing in the between 
 but getting wenches with child, wronging the 
 
 ' Wei] assured. 
 
 'Tlie writing afterward discovered with Perdita. 
 
 'l-'l"l<'. •Female infiint 
 
240 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 ancientry, stealing:, fisli'ifio- Hark you now! — 
 
 Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen, and 
 two and twenty, hunt this weather .' They have 
 scared away two of my be;:"t siieep ; which, I fear, 
 the wolf wdl sooner find, than tlie master : if any 
 wliere I have them, 'tis by ihe sea-side, browzing 
 on ivy. Ciood luck, an t be thy will! what have we 
 here ! [Tnkiiig up Ihe Child.] Mercy on's. a barne ;' 
 a very pretty barne ! A boy, or a child,' 1 wonder? 
 A pretty one; a very pretty one : Sure, some scape : 
 though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting- 
 gentlewoman in tlie scape. This has been some 
 stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door- 
 work : they were warmer that got this, than the 
 poor thins'is here. I 11 take it up for pity : Yet I'll 
 tarry till niy son come ; he halloed but even now. 
 Whoa, ho hoa! 
 
 Enter piown. 
 
 Clo. Hilloa, loa! 
 
 Sliep. What, art so near 1 if thou' It see a thing 
 to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come 
 hither. What ailest thou, man ! 
 
 Clo. I lia\e seen two such sights, by sea and by 
 land;— but I am not to say, it is a sea. for it is 
 now the sky; betwixt the hrmament and it, you 
 cannot thrust a b<idkin's point. 
 
 Sliep. Why, boy, how is it ! 
 
 Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how 
 it rases, how it lakes up the shore! but that's not 
 to the point: 0, the most piteous cry of the poor 
 souls ! sometimes to sec 'em, and*not to sec cm: 
 now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast; 
 and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd 
 thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the 
 land service. — To see how the bear tore out his 
 shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and 
 said his name was Antigoous, a nobleman:— But to 
 make an end of the ship : to see how the sea rtap- 
 dragoncd' it: — but, first, how tlie poor souls roared, 
 and the sea mocked them; — and liow the poor gen- 
 
 tleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roar 
 ing louder than sea or weather. 
 
 Shep. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy : 
 
 Clo. Now, now; I have not wduked since I saw 
 these sights : the men are not yet cold under water, 
 nor the bear half dined on the gentleman : he's at 
 It now. 
 
 Sh^p. Would I liad been by, to have helped the 
 old man ! 
 
 Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to 
 have helped her; there your chanty would have 
 lacked fooling. [.l4!(ie. 
 
 Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look 
 thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met'st 
 with things dying, T with things new-born. Here's 
 a sight for tliee; look thee, a bearing-clotli'^ for a 
 squire's child! Look thee here : take up, take up, 
 boy ; open't. So, let's see : It was told me, I should 
 be rich by the fairies ; this is some changeling; — 
 open t : What's within, boy 1 
 
 Clo. You're a made old man : if the sins of your 
 youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! 
 all gold ! 
 
 S/iep. This is fairy gold, boy. and 'twill prove so : 
 up with It, keep it close; home, home, the next 
 way. We are lucky, boy ; and to be so still, re- 
 quires nothing but secrecy. — Let my sheep go: — 
 Come, good boy. the next way home. 
 
 Cifi. Go you the next way with your findings; 
 I'll go see it the bear be gone from the gentleman 
 and how much he hath eaten : they are never curst 
 but when they are hungry : if there be any of him 
 left, I'll bury it. 
 
 tflifp. That's a good deed: If thou mayst dis 
 cern by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch 
 me to the sight of him. 
 
 Clii. IMarry, will I ; and you shall help to put 
 him i'the ground. 
 
 Shep. ''t'ls a lucky day, boy ; and we'll do good 
 deeds on't. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Ei:ler Time, ns Chorus 
 Time. I,— that please some, try all ; both joy and 
 
 terror. 
 Of sood and bad ; that make, and unfold error,— 
 Now take upon me, in the name of Time, 
 To use my wingti. Impute it not a crime, 
 To me, or my swift passage, that I slide 
 Cl'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried 
 Of that wide gap: since it is in my power 
 To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour 
 To plant and o'erwhclm custom : Let me pass 
 The same I am, ere ancient'st order was. 
 Or what is now received : I witness to 
 The times that brought them in; so shall I do 
 To the freshest things now reigning; and make stale 
 Tlie glistering of this present, as my tale 
 Nowseems to it. Your patience this allowing, 
 I turn my glass ; and give my scene such growing. 
 As you hail slept between. Leontes leaving 
 The etlects of his tbnd jealousies ; so grieving, 
 That he siiuts up himself; imagine me, 
 Gentle spectators, that 1 now may be 
 In fiir liohemia ; and remember well, 
 1 mentioned a son o'the king's, which Florizel 
 I now name to you ; and with speed so pace 
 To speak of Pe'rdita, now grown in grace 
 Equal with wond'ring : What of her ensues, 
 I list not prophecy ; but let Time's news 
 Be known, when 'tis brouglit forth :— a shepherd's 
 
 daughter. 
 And what to her adheres which follows after. 
 Is the arguiiienf of time: Of this allow. 
 If ever you have spent time worse ere now ; 
 If never yet. that Time himself doth say, 
 He wishes earnestly, you never may. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE I. — Bohemia. .4 Room in the Palace of 
 Pohxenes. 
 
 Enter Poiixkxks and Ca:«illo. 
 
 Vol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more imi»or- 
 tunatc : 'tis a sickness, denying thee anything; a 
 death, to grant this. 
 • A child. « Female infiiut. ' Swallowed. ' Subject. 
 
 Cam. II is fifteen years, since I saw my country, 
 though I have, for the most part, been aired abroad 
 I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the peni 
 tent king, my master, hath sent for me : to whose 
 feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'er 
 ween« to think so; which is another spur to my 
 departure. 
 
 Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not ou' 
 the rest of tliv services, by leaving me now: the 
 need I have ot'thee, thine own eoodness hath made- 
 better not to have had thee, than thus to want thee ; 
 thou, having made the businesses, which none, with 
 out thee, can sufliciently manage, must either stay 
 to execute them thyself, or take away with thee the 
 very services thou hast done : which if I have not 
 enough considered, (as too much 1 cannot,) to be 
 more thankful to thee, sliall be my study ; and my 
 profit therein, the heajiing friendships. Of that 
 fatal country, Sicilia, prythee speak no more; 
 whose very naming punishes me with the remem 
 brance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and 
 reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most 
 precious queen, and children, are even now to be 
 afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the 
 prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, 
 their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing 
 them, when they have approved their virtues. 
 
 Cam. Sir, it is three days, since I saw the prince: 
 What his happier affairs may be, are to me un- 
 known : but I have, ntissingly, noted.® he is of late 
 much retired from court ; and is less frequent to his 
 princely exercises, than formerly he hath appeared. 
 
 Pol. I liave considered so much, Camillo; and, 
 with some care ; so far, that I have eyes under my 
 .service, which look upon his reinovedness ; from 
 whom 1 have this intelligence: That he is seldom 
 from tlie'house of a most homely shepherd : a man 
 they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the 
 imagination of his neighbors, is grown into an un- 
 speakable estate. 
 
 Cam. 1 have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath 
 a daughter of most rare note : the report of her is 
 
 6 Tlic mantle in which n t-hilil wns earned to be liapUzed. 
 B Thiuk too bii^bly of ntj-Jelf. »ObserYcil at intervals 
 
Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 241 
 
 extended mure, tlian can be tlioiight to begin from 
 such a cottage. 
 
 Pol. That's iikewise part of my intelligence. But. 
 I fear the anj;le that plucks our son thitlmr. Thou 
 shalt accompany ns to the phicc: where we will, 
 not appearm^; what wo are, have some question 
 with tlie shepherd ; from wliosc simplicity. I think 
 it not uneasy to gel the cause of my son's resort 
 thither. Pry thee, he my present partner in this 
 business, and lay aside the thoui;hts of Siciha. 
 
 Cam. I willin^rly oht-y your command. 
 
 Pol. My best CamiUo!— We must disg;uise our- 
 selves. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEiVE 11.—^ Road near the Shepherd's Cultage, 
 
 Enter Autoltcvs, sinsing. 
 
 When daffodils begin to peer,— 
 With tidgh! the dnxij over the dalfy— 
 
 Why then comes in llie sweet o'ihe year; 
 Fur the red blovi reigns in the ivinter^s pale. 
 
 The white sheet hkiichin° on the hedge. — 
 
 WUh, hey.' ttie sweel birds, how they sing! 
 
 Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; 
 For a quart of ale is a dish for a Icing. 
 
 Ttic lark, that firra-lirra rhunfs, — 
 
 Wilh, key.' unth hfy! the thrush and f tie Jay: 
 Are sunu/ters' snugs fir tue au.d my attntSy 
 
 While we lie tu/nbling in tlie hay 
 
 I have served prince Florizol, and, in my time, wore 
 three-pile;' but now 1 am out of service: 
 
 But shall T go jnourn for that, my dear? [Sings. 
 
 The pale moon shines by niKht: 
 And when I wander liere and tfiere-, 
 
 I t/ien do most go right. 
 
 If tinker'^ may have leave to livCy 
 
 And hear Ifie sow-skin budget* 
 Then my account I well may give, 
 
 And in the stocks avouch it. 
 
 My traffic is sheets ; when the kite builds, look to 
 lesser liuiea. My f.ither named mc, Autolycus; 
 who. being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was 
 likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trilles: With 
 dip- and drab, I purchased this caparison ; and my 
 revenue is the silly cheat :■* Gallows, and knock, are 
 too powerful nn the highway ; heating and hanging, 
 are terrors to me; for the htc to come, I sleep out 
 the thought of it. — A prize ! a prize! 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Let me see : — Every 'leven weather — -tods : 
 every tod yields — pound and odd shilling: lifleeii 
 hundred shorn, — What comes the wool to ? 
 
 iut. If the springe hold, tlic cocks mine. 
 
 [Asi-le. 
 
 Clo* I cannot do't without counters. — Let me see : 
 what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? 
 Three pound of sugar,- five pound (f currants.- rice, 
 
 What will this sister of mine do with rice? But 
 
 my father hatii made lier mistress of the feast, and 
 she lays it on. Slie hath made me four-and-twenty 
 nosegays for the ::hearers: three-man song-men^ 
 all, and very good ones; hut they are most of them 
 means* and bases: hut one Puritan amongst them, 
 and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have 
 saffron, to color the warden pies ;» mace, — iates,— 
 none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, seven ,- a 
 race, or two, of ginger,- but that 1 may beg;— /uwr 
 pound of prunes, and /is many of raisins o^the sun. 
 
 Aut. O, that ever I was liorn ! 
 
 [Grovelling on the ground. 
 
 Clo. rthe name of me. 
 
 Aut. O help me, lielp me! pluck but ofT these 
 rags; and then, death, death ! 
 
 Clo. Alack, poor soul ! ihou hast need of more 
 rags to lay on thee, ralher than have those off. 
 
 Aut. (), sir, the loathsomeness of them olFends 
 me more than the suipcs 1 have received ; which 
 are mighty ones and millinn.'. 
 
 Clo. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may 
 come to .1 great mattt-r. 
 
 Aut. I am robbed, sir. and beaten ; mv money 
 and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable 
 things put upon me. 
 
 : Rich velvot. 
 
 9 Singers of oatcbcs in tlirpp pirts. 
 » I'ies mitde of a ppocics of pears, 
 li 
 
 * Picking ito'-kcts. 
 ■1 Ten 11-s. 
 
 Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man J 
 
 Aut. A fjot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, be should be a foot-man, by the gar- 
 ments he hath Iffl with thee; if this be a horse- 
 mans coat, it h;ith seen very hot service. Lend me 
 thy hand, 111 help thee : come, lend me thy lund. 
 [Hflping Idni up. 
 
 Aut. o! good sir, tenderly, oh ! 
 
 Clo. Alas, poor soul. 
 
 Aut. (), good sir, soltly, good sir: I fear, sir, my 
 shoulder-blade is out. 
 
 Co. How now ! canst stand! 
 
 Ant. Softly, dear sir ; [Picks his pockff.] good sir, 
 softly : you ha" done me a charitable otHce. 
 
 C'.'". Dost lack any money ! I have a little money 
 for thee. 
 
 Aut. No, good sweet sir; no. I beseech you, sir. 
 I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile 
 hence, unto whom I was going ; I shall there have 
 money, or anything I want; Offer me no money, I 
 pray you : that kills my heart. 
 
 C!o. What manner of fellow was he that robbed 
 yon 1 
 
 Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about 
 with trol-my-d.imes :» I knew him once a servant 
 of tlie prinoo ; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of 
 his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out 
 of the court. 
 
 Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue 
 whipped out of the court : they cherish it, to make 
 it stay there ; and yet it will no more but abide. 
 
 Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man 
 well: he hath been since an ape-hearer; then a 
 process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a mo- 
 tion"' of tlie prodigal son, and married a tinker's 
 wile witliin a mUe where my land aiid living lies; 
 and, having llown over many knavish professions, 
 he settled only in rogue: some call him Autoly- 
 cus. 
 
 Clo, Out upon him ! Prig, for my life, prig: he 
 haunts wakes, tairs, and bear-baitings. 
 
 Aut. Very true, sir ; he, sir, he ; that's the rogue, 
 th;it put me into this apparel. 
 
 Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia : 
 if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd 
 have run. 
 
 Aut. 1 mu"^! confess to you, sir, I am nn fighter : 
 I am false of heart that way ; and that he knew, I 
 warrant him. 
 
 Clo. How do you now? 
 
 Aut. Sweet sir. much better than I was; T can 
 stand, and walk: I will even take my leave of you, 
 anii pace sortly towards my kinsman's. 
 
 C'/i. Shall i bring thee on the way ! 
 
 Aut. No. good-ficed sir; no. sweet sir. 
 
 Clo. 'I'hen fare thee well ; I must go buy spices 
 for our sheep-shearing. 
 
 A'if. Prosper you. sweet sir! — [Exit Clown.] 
 Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your 
 spice. I'll be with you at your sheei)-shearihg ton : 
 If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the 
 shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my 
 name put in the book of virtue! 
 
 Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, 
 And merrily lient^ the stile-a: 
 
 A merry heart goes all the day^ 
 Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— .4 Shepherd's Cottage. 
 Enter Floiiizel and PEUDirA. 
 
 Flo, These yourunusual weeds to each part of you 
 Do give a life: no shepherdess ; but Flora, 
 Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing 
 Is as a meeting of the petty gods, 
 And you the queen on t. 
 
 Pt-r. Sir, my gracious lord. 
 
 To chide at your extremes,' it not becomes me ; 
 (), pardon, that I name them: your liiicli self, 
 The gracious mark' o" the land, you iiave obscuivd 
 With a swain's wearing; and me. poor lowly maid. 
 Most ii;oddess-like prankd'^ up: But th:a our feasts 
 In every mess have folly, and the feeders 
 Digest it with a custom, I should biusli 
 To see you so attired ; sworn, I think, 
 To show myself a glass. 
 
 6 The macliine used in the game of pigeon holed. 
 1 Pmipr-t-show. »Take holLl of. "» Escessus. 
 
 1 0' ject of all men's notice, a Dressed with ostentation- 
 
212 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act 17. 
 
 Flo. I bless tlie time, 
 
 When my good falcon made her llight across 
 Thy fathers ground. 
 
 Per. Now Jove afford you cause! 
 
 To me the difference* forges dread; your greatness 
 Hath not bfen used to fear. Even now I tremble 
 To think, your fiitlier, by some accident, 
 Should pass this way, as you did : (), the fates ! 
 How would he look, to see his work, so noble, 
 Vilely bound up 1 What would he say ] Or how 
 Should I, in these my borrow d llaunla, behoid 
 The sternness of his presence 1 
 
 Flo. Apprehend 
 
 Nolhimr but jollity. The gods iht-mselxcs. 
 Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
 The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter 
 Became a bull, and bellowd ; the green Keptune 
 A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-rob'd god, 
 Golden Apnllo. a poor humble swain, 
 As I seem now: Their transformations 
 Were never for a piece of beauty rarer ; 
 Kor in a way so chaste : since my desires 
 lUni not betbre mine honor; nor my lusls 
 Burn hotter than my faith. 
 
 Per. O but, dear sir, 
 
 Your resolution cannot hold, when tis 
 Opposd, as it must be, by the power o'the king : 
 One uf these t^vo must be necessities, 
 Which then will speak ; that you must change this 
 
 purpose, 
 Or I my life. 
 
 Flo. Thnu dearest Pcrdita, 
 
 With these forced thoui:hts, I prythee, darken not 
 The mirth o'the feast: Or Til be "thine, my fair, 
 Or not my father's : for I cannot be 
 Mine own. nor any thing to any, if 
 1 be not thine: to this 1 am most constant, 
 Though destiny say, no. Jic merry, gentle; 
 Strangle such thoughts as these, with any tiling 
 That you behold the while. \our guests are coming: 
 JJft up your countenance : as it were the day 
 Of celebration of that nuptial, whicli 
 We two have sworn shall come. 
 
 Per. lady fortune. 
 
 Stand you auspicious! 
 
 Enter Shepherd tvifh Poltxenes a^id Cahitt.lo, 
 
 disf^uiseti ; Clown, Mopsi, Voncxa, and others, 
 
 Flo. See your gue.sts approach : 
 
 Address yourself to entertain ihcm sprightly. 
 And let's be red with mirth. 
 
 Stiep. Fye, daughter! when my old wife liv"d, 
 upon 
 This day she was both pantler, butler, cook ; 
 Both dame and servant : welcomd all ; serv'd all : 
 Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now here, 
 At upper end o'the table, now. i'the middle; 
 On his shoulder, and his : her facQ o'f.re 
 With labor; and the tiling- she took to quench it. 
 She would to each one sip ; You are retired, 
 As if you were a feasted one, and not 
 The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid 
 These unknown friends to us welcome, for it is 
 A way to make us better friends, more known. 
 Come, quench your blushes'; and present yourself 
 That winch you are. mistress o'the feast: Come on, 
 And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, 
 As your good Hock shall prosper. 
 
 Pe?; Welcome, sir! [To Pol. 
 
 It is my father's will, T should take on me 
 The hostess-ship o'the day : — You're welcome, sir ! 
 
 [Tu Camillo. 
 Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. — Reverend 
 
 sirs, 
 Tor you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep 
 Seeming and savor.* all the winter long: 
 Grace, and remembrance, be to you both. 
 And welcome to our sliearing ! 
 
 Put' Shepherdess, 
 
 (A fiir one are you.) well you fit our ages 
 With flowers of winter. 
 
 Ptr, Sir. the year growing ancient, — 
 
 Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
 Of trembling winter, — the fairest flowers o'the 
 
 season 
 Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers. 
 Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind 
 Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not 
 To get slips of them. 
 
 sj. e. Of station. * Likeness and smoll. 
 
 Pol. Wherefoie, gentle maiden, 
 
 Do you neglect them 1 
 
 Per. Fors I have heard it said, 
 
 There is an art, which, in their picdnei-s, shares 
 Witli great creating nature. 
 
 ]'oL Say, there be ; 
 
 Yet nature is made better by no mean. 
 But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art. 
 Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art 
 That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry 
 A gentle scion to the wildest slock ; ' 
 And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
 By bud of nobler race; Tiiis is an art 
 Which does mend nature,— chan-e it rather: but 
 The art itself is nature. 
 
 Per. ' So it is. 
 
 Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers, 
 And do not call them ta.>3tards. 
 
 Per. Ill not put 
 
 The dibble in earth to set one slip of them : 
 No more than, were I painted, 1 would wish 
 This youth should say, 'twere well ; and only there- 
 fore 
 Desire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for you ; 
 Hot lavender, minis, savory, marjoram ; 
 The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, 
 And with him rises weeping; tliese are flowers 
 Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given 
 To men of middle age : You are very welcome. 
 
 Cam. I should leave grazing, were 1 of your flock, 
 And only live by gazing. 
 
 Per. Out, alas! 
 
 You'd be so lean, that blasts of January 
 Would blow you tlirough and through. — Now, my 
 
 fairest friend, 
 I would, 1 had some flowers o'the spring, that might 
 Become your time of day ; and yours, and yours . 
 That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
 Your maidenheads growing :— O Proserpina, 
 For the flowers now, that I'nghted, thou let'st fall 
 From Dis's^ waggon! daflbdils, 
 That come before the swallow dares, and take 
 The winds of March with beauty ; violets cUm, 
 But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
 t)r Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, 
 That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
 Briglit Pha^bus in his strength, a malady 
 Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and 
 The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds. 
 The flower-de-luce being one ! O, tliese, I lack. 
 To make vou garlands of; and my sweet friend. 
 To strew him o'er and o'er. 
 
 Flo. What? like a corse? 
 
 Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on ; 
 Not like a corse : or if, — not to be buried, 
 But quick,' and in mine arms. Come, take your 
 
 flowers : 
 Methinks, I play as I have seen them do 
 In Whitsun' pastorals : sure, tliis robe of mine 
 Does change my disposition. 
 
 Flo. What you do. 
 
 Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, 
 Id have you do it ever : wlien you sing. 
 I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; 
 Pray so ; and, for the ordering your aflUirs. 
 To sing them too: When you do dance. I wish you 
 A wave othe sea, that you might ever do 
 Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own 
 No other function : Kach your doing, 
 So singular in each particular. 
 Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, 
 That all your acts are queens. 
 
 Per. O Doriclcs, 
 
 Your praises are too large: but that your youth, 
 And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it, 
 Do plainly give you out an unslain d shepherd; 
 With wisclom 1 might fear, my Doricles, 
 You woo'd me the false way. 
 
 Flo. I Ihiiik, you have 
 
 As little skill to fear, as I have purpo.se. 
 To put you tot.— But, come; our dance, I pray: 
 Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair, 
 Tliat never mean to part. 
 
 Per. I'll swear for 'em. 
 
 Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
 r.an on the green-sward: nothing she does, or 
 
 seems. 
 But smacks of something greater then herself; 
 Too noble for this place. 
 
 » Because that. 6 Pluto. ^ Living. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 243 
 
 Cam. He tells her something, 
 That inaki's her blood look out: Good soolh, she is 
 The queeii of curds and cream. 
 
 Clu. Come on. strike up. 
 
 Difr. Mopsa must be your mistress : marry, garlic, 
 To mend lier kissing with. — 
 
 Mop. Now, in good time! 
 
 Clo. Not a word, a word; wc yland upvn our 
 niuiiners. — 
 Come, slriKe up. [Musk: 
 
 Here a dance of Shepherds ciwl Shepherdesses. 
 
 PoL Fray, good shepherd, wliat 
 Fair swam istliis, wiiich dances with your daughter? 
 
 S/u'p. They call him Doncles ; and he boasts 
 himself 
 To have a worthy feedin?^ :« but I have it 
 Upon Ins own report, and I beUeve it; 
 He looks like sooth:' He says, he loves my daugh- 
 ter ; 
 I think so too ; for never gazed the moon 
 Upon the water, as he'll t^tand, and read, 
 As 'twere, my dau,u;liter's eyes: and, to be plain, 
 1 think, there is not half a kiss to choose, 
 Who loves another best. 
 
 Pul. Slie dances feat!y.i 
 
 Shep. So she does anythin^' ; thoujjli I report it 
 That should be silent ; if young Donelcs 
 Do light upon her, she shall bring him that 
 Which he not dreams of. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. mister, if you did but hear the pedler at 
 the door, you would never dance aui.xm after a tabur 
 and pipe ; no, the baiipipe could not movt you : he 
 sings several tunes, faster than youll t''ll money; 
 he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all 
 men's cars grew to his tunes. 
 
 CVo. He could never come better: he shall come 
 in : I love a ballad but even too well : if it be 
 doleful matter, merrily set down ; or a very pleaiiant 
 tliin;^ indeed, and sung lamentably. 
 
 Scrv. He hath songs, for man. or woman, of all 
 sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with 
 gloves : he has the prettiest love songs for maids ; 
 so without bawdry, which is strange; with sueh 
 delicate burdens of dltdos and fadin-^s; jiunp her 
 and thump her; and where some stretcli-mouliril 
 rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break 
 a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to 
 answer, Wkoop-, do me no harm, i^nod man.,- puts 
 him otf, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, 
 good man. 
 
 Pot, This is a brave fellow. 
 
 Clo. Believe me thou talkest of an admirable 
 conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares !•» 
 
 Serv. He hath ribuids of all the colors illio rain- 
 bow; points more than all the lawyers in Itohemiu 
 can learnedly handle, though they come to hiin by 
 the gross; inkles, caddisses,* cambrics, lawns : why, 
 he SUIT'S tlH'in over, as they were gods or gorldcsscs ; 
 you would tinnk a smock were a she angel; he so 
 chants to the sleevc-hand,* and the work about the 
 square out.* 
 
 Clo. I'rythce, bring him in; and let him ap- 
 proach singiui;. 
 
 Per. Forewarn Iiim, that he use no scurrilous 
 words in his tunes. 
 
 Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more 
 in 'em tlian yon'd think, sister. 
 
 Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. 
 
 Enter Autot.ycus, sirtg-t/jiT' 
 Lf/ton, as ivhite a? driven snow; 
 Ct/priis, hliick as e'*er was crow; 
 G/iivfs, (IS su>eet as damask roses ; 
 Ma'^-ks for faces, and for noses; 
 Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, 
 Perfume for a ladi/'s chamber: 
 Golden qnoifs, and stomachers. 
 For mil lads to give their dears ; 
 Pins and poking-siicks of steel. 
 What maids lack from head to heel: 
 Coiae, buy of me, come ; come buy, come buy; 
 Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry ; 
 Come, buy, ^-c. 
 
 • A valuable tract of pasturage. o Truth. 
 
 1 Nt-atly. 2 Plain Goods. ^A kind of tafc. 
 
 « The culTs. » The work about the bosom. 
 
 Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa. thou 
 shouldst take no money of me ; but being cntiiralled 
 as I am, ♦twill also betlie bondage of certain ribands 
 and tcloves. ■ 
 
 Mi.p. I was promised them against the feast; but 
 they come not too late now. 
 
 fhjr. He hath promised you more than tliat, or 
 there be liars. 
 
 Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you: 
 may be he hath paid you more; which will shame 
 you to give him again. 
 
 Clo. Is there i^ manners left among maids 1 will 
 they wear their plackets, where they should bear 
 their faces? Is there not milking-timc, when you 
 are going to-bcd, or kiln-hole,« to whistle oil these 
 secrets; but you must be tittle-tattling liofore all 
 our guests'? 'Tis well they are whispering: Cla- 
 mor your tongues,' and not a word more. 
 
 Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a 
 tawdry lace,« and a pair of sweet gloves. 
 
 Clo. Have I not told thee, how I was cozened by 
 the way, and lost all my money] 
 
 Aut. And. indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad ; 
 therefore it behoves men to be wary. 
 
 Clo. Fear not thou, man, tbou shalt lose nothing 
 here. 
 
 .1'//. I hope so, sir: fori have about mc mnny 
 parcels of charge. 
 Clo. What hast hero? ballads? 
 M'p, Pray now. buy some : I love a oallad in 
 print, a'-lifc ; for then we are sure they are true. 
 
 Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a 
 usurer's wife was brought to-bed of twenty-money- 
 bags at a burden ; and how she longed to eat ad- 
 ders' hea<ls, and toads carbonadoed. 
 Mop. Is It true, thitik you ? 
 Aur. Very true ; and but a month old. 
 Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer ! 
 Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't. one mis- 
 tress Talrpnrter ; and live or six honest wives, that 
 were present : Why should I carry lies abroad ? 
 Mop. Pray you now, buy it. 
 CVo. Come on, lay it by: And lefs first sec more 
 ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. 
 
 Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish, that ap- 
 peared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore 
 of April, I'orty thousand fathom above water, and 
 sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: 
 it was tbnuiiht, she was a woman, and was turned 
 into a cold fish, for she would not exchange tiesli 
 with one that loved her: The ballad is very pitiful, 
 and as true. 
 Dor. Is it true, think you? 
 
 A'tf. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses, 
 more than my pack will hold. 
 Cln. Lay it by : Another. 
 
 A 'if. This is a' merry ballad; but a very pretty one. 
 
 Mfip. Let's have some merry one, 
 
 Aut. Why this is a passing merry one; and goes 
 
 to the tune of. Two maids ivooiag a man: there's 
 
 scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; 'tis in 
 
 request, I can tell you. 
 
 Mop. We can both sing it; if thou 'It bear a part, 
 thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts. 
 Dor. We had the tune out a month ago. 
 Aut. I can bear my part ; you must know, 'tis my 
 occupation : have at it with you. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 A. Get vou hence, for I must go ; 
 Where, il fif.s not i/ou to knojc. 
 
 D. Whilher? M. 0. whithrr? D. Whither? 
 M. It becomr^ th'i oathfull well, 
 Thou to nte thif sccfets tell : 
 
 D. Mc too, let me go thither. 
 
 M. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill: 
 D. If to either, thou dost ill. 
 
 A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither. 
 D. Thi/u hast sworn my love to be; 
 M. Thou h/ist sworn it more to me : 
 
 Then, ivhither go'st? say, whither? 
 
 Clo. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; 
 My fatjier and the ccntleman are in sad^ talk, and 
 we'll not trouble them: come, bring away thy pack 
 
 G Fire-place for drying malt; still a noted gossiping plar*. 
 
 1 Ring a dumb pi-al. 
 
 e A laco to wear about the head or waist. ' Serious 
 
244 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 after me. Wenches, Til buy for you both; — Pedler, 
 let's have the first choice — Koilow iiic, gi#ls. 
 Aiit. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Aside. 
 
 IVill ynn buy any icptj 
 
 Or iacefnr your Cftpe, 
 My diiintii duct:, my dear-a? 
 
 Any sitk, any thread, 
 
 Any luysfnr your head. 
 Of the new st, and Jin'st, fin'st iceur-a? 
 
 Ciiriie to the j;edler; 
 
 ]\Ionei/'s a utedter. 
 Thai doth utter' alt men's irear-a. 
 
 [Exeunt Clown, Autoltcus, Dohcas, 
 and MnpsA. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sen'. Master, there is three carters, three shep- 
 herds, three neal/-hercls, three swine-herds, that have 
 made themselves all men of hair;- they call them- 
 selves saltiers:'-' and they have a dance which the 
 wenclies say is a gallimaufry* of gambols, because 
 they are not in't; but tliey themselves are o the mind, 
 (if It be not too roui;h for some, that know little but 
 bowlint;,) it will please plentifully. 
 
 Shep. Away! we'll none on't; here has been too 
 much humble foolery already:—! know, sir, wc 
 weary you. 
 
 Pol. Vou weary those that refresh us: Pray, let's 
 see these four threes of herdsmen. 
 
 Serr. One three of them, by their own report, 
 sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst 
 of the three, but jumjis twelve foot and a half by 
 the squire.* 
 
 Shep. Leave your pratini;; since these good men 
 are pleased, let them come in ; but quickly now. 
 
 Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Servant, wittt ttrelve Ruftics hahitei like 
 Satyrs. Tliey dance, and then exeunt. 
 
 Pol. O, Father, you'll know more of that here- 
 atier. — 
 Is it not too far gone? — 'tis time to part them. — 
 He's simple, and tells much. [j4s i<ie.]— How now, 
 
 fair shepherd] 
 Your heart is full of something, that does take 
 '\'our mind from feasting. 'Sooth, when 1 was young. 
 And handed love, as you do, I was wont 
 To load my she with knacks : 1 would have ran- 
 
 s.ick'd 
 The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it 
 To her acceptance ; you have let him i;o, 
 And nothing marted« with him : if your lass 
 Interpretation should abuse; and call Ibis 
 ■^'our lack of love, or bounty: you were slraited 
 For a reply, at least, if you make a care 
 Of happy holding her. 
 
 Flo. Old sir, I know 
 
 She prizes not such trifles as these are : 
 The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd 
 \Jp in my heart; which I have given already. 
 But not deliver'd. — O, hear me breathe my life 
 liefore this ancient sir, who, it should seem. 
 Hath sometime lov'd : 1 take thy hand; this hand. 
 As soft as dove's down, and as white as it; 
 Or Kthiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow. 
 That's bolted' by the northern blasts twice o'er. 
 
 Pol. What follows this 1— 
 How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
 The hand, was fair before ! — I have put you out : — 
 But to your protestation; let me hear 
 What you profess. 
 
 Flo. Do, and be witness to't. 
 
 Pol. And this my neighbor tbol 
 
 Fin. And he. and more 
 
 Than he, and men ; the earth, the heavens, and all: 
 That, — were I crown'd the most imperial monarcli, 
 Thereof most worthy ; were I the fairest youth 
 That ever made eye swerve ; had force, and knowl- 
 edge. 
 More than was ever man's, — I would not prize them. 
 Without her love; for her, employ them all; 
 Commend them, and condemn them, to her service. 
 Or to their own perdition. 
 
 Pol. Fairly offer'd. 
 
 1 Si'll. ^Dressed themselves in habits imitating hnir. 
 "Satyrs. « Mrdley. e Square, foot-rule. 
 
 • Bought. trafRi'ked. 
 
 1 The sii've used to separate flour from bran is called a 
 bolting cloth. 
 
 Cam. This sbows a sound alfection. 
 
 Shep. But, my daughter 
 
 Say you the like to him ? 
 
 Per. I cannot speak 
 
 So well, nothing so well ; no. nor mean better : 
 By the pattern of mine own thoughts 1 cut out 
 The purity of his. 
 
 S/u]}. Take hands, a bargain r 
 
 And, friends unknown, you shall bearwitness to't: 
 1 give my daughter to him, and will make 
 Her portion equal his. 
 
 Flo. O, that must be 
 
 rthe virtue of your dauihler: one being dead, 
 I shall have more than you can dream of yet ; 
 Knough then for your wonder: But, come on, 
 Contract us 'fore "these witnesses. 
 
 Shep. Come, your hand ; 
 
 And, daughter, yours. 
 
 Pn '. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you : 
 
 Have you a father? 
 
 Flo. Iliave: But what of him? 
 
 Pol. Knows he of this? 
 
 Flo. He neither docs, nor shall, 
 
 Pol. Melhinks, a father 
 Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest 
 That best becomes the table. I'ray you, once more; 
 Is not your fither grown incapable 
 Of reasonable alTaiis? is he not stupid 
 With age and altering rheums! Can he speak? hear? 
 Know man from man? dispute his own estate ?■ 
 Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does notiiing, 
 But what he did being childish ? 
 
 Flo. No, good sir ; 
 
 He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, 
 Than most have of his age. 
 
 Pid. By my white beard, 
 
 You olTer him. if this be so, a wroiig 
 Something unfilial : Beason. my son 
 Should choose himself a wife ; but as good reason, 
 The father (all whose joy is nothing else 
 But fair posterity) should hold some counsel 
 In such a business. 
 
 Flo. 1 yield all this ; 
 
 But, for some other reasons, my grave sir. 
 Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint 
 My father of this business. 
 
 Pril. Let him know't. 
 
 Flo. He shall not. 
 
 Pnl. Prythee, let him. 
 
 Flo. No, he must not 
 
 .S'^ifTi. Let him, my son; lie shall not need to grieve 
 At knowing of thy choice. 
 
 Flo. Come, come, he must not : — 
 
 Mark our contrdct. 
 
 Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir, 
 IDiseovering himself. 
 Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base 
 To be acknowledi'd : Thou a sceptre's heir. 
 That thus affect'st a sheep-hook ! — Thou old traitor, 
 I am sorry, that, by hanging thee. I can but 
 Shorten thy life one week. — And thou, fresh piece 
 Of excelleiit witchcraft;. who. of force must know 
 The royal fool thou cop'st with ; 
 
 S'lip. O. my heart! 
 
 Pol. Ill have thy beauty scratch'd willi briars, 
 and made 
 More homely than thy state.— For thee, fond boy, — 
 If I may ever know, Ihou dost but sigh. 
 That thou no more shalt see this knack, (as never 
 I mean thou shalt, ^ we'll bar thee from succession j 
 Not hold thee of our blood, no. not our kin ; 
 Fars than Deucalion o!l':— Mark thou my words; 
 Follow us to the court.— Thou churl, for this time, 
 Though full of our displeasures, yet we free thee 
 From the dread blow of it.— And you, enchant- 
 ment.— 
 Worthy eiioujh a herdsman ; yea, him too. 
 That makes himself, but for oiir honor therein, 
 Unworthy thee, — if ever, henccfirth, thou 
 These rural latches to his entrance open. 
 Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 
 I will devise a death as cruel for thee. 
 As thou art tender to't. [Exit. 
 
 Per. F.ven here imdone ! 
 
 I was not much afcard : for once or twice. 
 1 was aliout to speak ; and tell him plainly, 
 ■Tiie self-same sun, that shines upon his court, 
 Hides not his visaic from our cottage, but 
 
 • Talk over his atTairfl. 
 
 s Farther, 
 
Scene III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 245 
 
 Looks on alike. — Wilt please you, sir, Ijegone T 
 
 [To KLonizEL. 
 I tjld 5"0U, wliat would come of this ; Beseech you, 
 fif your own state take care: this dream of mine, — 
 Being now awake, I'lJ queen it no inch furth.cr, 
 But milk my ewes, and weep. 
 
 Cam. Why, how now, fatherl 
 
 Speak, ere tliou diest. 
 
 S/if/j. I cannot speak, nor think, 
 
 Nor dare to know that wjiicfi I know. — (), sir. 
 You Iiave undone a man of fourscore three. [ 'J'u Flo. 
 That thnu^lu to 111] his grave in quiet ; yea, 
 To die upon the bed iny father died. 
 To lie close by his honest bones: but now 
 Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me 
 W'here no priest shovels-in dust. — o cursed wretch! 
 
 [To Pehdita. 
 That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst ad- 
 venture 
 To mingle lacth with him. — Undone! undone! 
 If I might die within this hour, 1 have livd 
 To die when I desire. [Exil. 
 
 F.u. Why look you so upon me ! 
 
 I am but sorry, not afeard ; delay'd. 
 But nothing alter'd : W hat I was, I am ; 
 More straining on, for plucking back; not following 
 My leash' unwilhngly. 
 
 Cam. Gracious my lord. 
 
 You know your father's temper: at this time 
 He will allow no speech, — which, I do guess. 
 You do not purpose to liim ; — and as hardly 
 Will he endure ynur sight as yet, I fear: 
 Then, till the fury of his highness settle. 
 Come not before him. 
 
 FUu I not purpose it. 
 
 I think, Cainillo. 
 
 Cam. Even he, my lord. 
 
 Per. How often have I told you, twouid be thus? 
 How ottcn said my dignity would last 
 But till 'twere known? 
 
 Flu. It cannot fail, but by 
 
 The violation of my fiiith ; and then 
 Let nature crush the sides o'the earth together. 
 And mar the seeds within! — Lift up thy looks: — 
 From my succession wipe me, father ! 1 
 Am heir to my affection. 
 
 Cum. Be advised. 
 
 Ftij. I am ; and by ray fancy :'■ if my reason 
 Will tliereto be obedient, I have reason ; 
 If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, 
 Do bid it welcome. 
 
 Cam. This is desperate, sir. 
 
 Flu. So call it : but it does fulfil my vow ; 
 I needs must think it honesty. Canullo, 
 Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may 
 Be thereat glean'd ; fir all the sun sees, or 
 The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide 
 In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath 
 To this my fair belov'd: Therefore, I pray you, 
 As you have ever been my fathers friend. 
 When he shall miss me, (as, in faith, I mean not 
 To see hira any more.) cast your good counsels 
 Upon his passion : Let myself and fortune. 
 Tug fir the time to come. This you may know, 
 And so deliver, — 1 am put to sea 
 With her, whom here 1 cannot hold on shore; 
 And, most op]j6i tune to our need, I have 
 A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared 
 For this design. What course I mean to hold. 
 Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor 
 Concerns me the reporting. 
 
 Cam. 0, my lord, 
 
 I would your spirit were easier for advice, 
 Or stronger for your need. 
 
 Flo. Hark, Perdita. [Takes her aside. 
 
 I'll hear you by and by. [To Camillo. 
 
 Cam. He's irremovable. 
 
 Resolved for flight : Now were I happy, if 
 His going I could frame to serve my turn ; 
 Save him from danger, do him love and honor; 
 Purchase the sight again of dear .^icilia. 
 And that unhappy king, my master, whom 
 I so much thirst to see. 
 
 Flo. Now, good Camilln, 
 
 I am so fraught with curious business, that 
 I leave out ceremony. [Gains 
 
 Cam. Sir, I think, 
 
 Y'ou have heard of my poor services, i'the love 
 That 1 have borne your father? 
 
 1 A leadins-.string. a Love. 
 
 Flo. Very nobly 
 
 Have you deserv'd : it is my father's music. 
 To speak your deeds: not little of his care 
 To have them recompens'd as thought on. 
 
 Cam. Well, my lord. 
 
 If you may please to think I love the king; 
 And through him, what is nearest to him, which is 
 Your gracious self; embrace but my direction, 
 (If your more ponderous and settled project 
 May suffer alter. ition.) on mine honor 
 ril point you where you shall have such receiving 
 As shall become your highness; where you may 
 Enjoy your mistress; (from the whom, 1 see. 
 There's no disjunction to be made, but by. 
 As heavens forefend ! your ruin;) marry her; 
 And (with my best endeavors, in your absence) 
 Your disconlentingi father strive to qualify. 
 And bring him up to liking. 
 
 Flo. How, Camillo, 
 
 .May this, almost a miracle, be done? 
 That 1 may call thee something more than man, 
 And, after that, trust to thee. 
 
 Cam. Have you thought on 
 
 .\ place, whereto you'll go? 
 
 Flo. Not any yet: 
 
 But as the unlhought-on accident' is guilty 
 To what we wildly do; so we profess 
 Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies 
 Of every wind that blows. 
 
 Cam. Then list to me : 
 
 This follows,— if you will not change your purpose. 
 But undergo this flight: — Make for Sicilia; 
 And there present yourself, and your fair princess, 
 I For so, I see. she must lie.) 'fore Leontes; 
 She shall be habited, as it becomes 
 The partner of your bed. Alethinks, I see 
 Leonles, opening his free arms, and weeping 
 His welcomes forth : asks thee, the .son, forgiveness. 
 As 'twere i'the father s person : kisses the hands 
 Of your fresh princess: o er and o'er divides him 
 ' fwixt his unkiiiiliiess and his kindness; the one 
 He chides to hell, and bids the other grow. 
 Faster than thought, or time. 
 
 FiO. Worthy Camillo, 
 
 What color for my visitation shall 1 
 Hold up before him ? 
 
 Cam. Sent by the king your fatlier 
 
 To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir, 
 The manner ol' j'our bearing towards him. with 
 What you. as from your father, shall deliver. 
 Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down: 
 I'hc which sliall point jou forth at every sitting, 
 What you must say; that he shall not perceive". 
 But that you have your father's bosom there, 
 .\nd speak his very heart. 
 
 Flo. I am bound to you ; 
 
 There is some sap in this. 
 
 Cam. .K course more promising 
 
 Than a wild dedication of yourselves 
 To unjiath'd waters, undre'am'd shores; most cer- 
 tain. 
 To miseries enough : no hope to help you ; 
 Hut, as you shake olf one, to take another : 
 Nothing so certain as your anchors: who 
 Do their best office, if they can but stay you 
 Where you II be loath to be: Besides, you know 
 Prosperity's the very bond of love; 
 Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
 .Affliction alters. 
 
 ■ Per. One of these is true : 
 
 I tliink, affliction may subdue the cheek, 
 But not take in' the mind. 
 
 Cum. Y'ea, say you so ? 
 
 There shall not, at your fither's house, these seven 
 
 years. 
 Be born another such. 
 
 Flo. My good Camillo, 
 
 She is as forward of her breeding, as 
 I'the rear of birth. 
 
 Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pity 
 
 She lacks instructions; for she seems a mistress 
 To most that teach. 
 
 Per. Your pardon, sir, for this; 
 
 I'll blush you thanks. 
 
 Flo. My prettiest Perdita. 
 
 But, O, the thorns we stand upon !— Camillo,— 
 Preserver of my father, now of me: 
 
 3 For discontented. 
 
 * The unexpected discovery made by Polixenes. 
 
 » Conquer. 
 
246 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Ihe medicine of our liouse ! — how shall we do] 
 We aiL' not I'nniisli d like Bohemias son ; 
 
 Nor sliall appear in Sicily 
 
 Ca/ii. My lord. 
 
 Fear none of this; I think, you know, my fortunes 
 Do all lie there: it shall be so my care 
 To have you royally appointed, as if 
 Tile scene you play, were mine. For instance, sir. 
 That you may know you shall not want, — one word. 
 [They talk aside. 
 
 Enter Actolycus. 
 
 Ant. Ha, ha ! what a fool honesty is ! and trust, 
 his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman ! I have 
 sold all my trumpery ; not a couiiterleit stone, not 
 a riband, sl^ss, potnander,'' brooch, table-book, 
 ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn- 
 nns, to keep my pack from fasting; they throng 
 who should buy first; as if my trinkets liad been 
 hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: 
 by which means I saw whose purse was best in 
 picture ; and, what I saw, to my good use, 1 remem- 
 bered. My clown (who wants but something to be 
 a reasonable man) grew so in love with the wenches' 
 song, that he would not stir his pettitoes, till he 
 had both tune and words; which so drew the rest 
 of the herd to me, that all their other senses stuck 
 in ears: you might have pinched a placket, il'was 
 senseless; 'twas nothing, to geld a cod-piece of a 
 purse; I would have filed keys olf, that hung in 
 chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, 
 and admiring the nothing of it. So that, in this 
 time of lethargy, I picked and cut most of their fes- 
 tival purses: and had not the old man come in 
 with a whoolbub again^ft his daughter and the king's 
 son, and scared my cbou;ihs8 from the chalT, I iiad 
 not left a purse alive m the whole army. 
 
 [Camillo, Flouizkl, u7iil pKuniTA, come 
 forward. 
 
 Cam. Nay, but my letters by this means being 
 there 
 So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. 
 
 Flo. And those that youil procure from king 
 Leontes, 
 
 Cam. Shall satisfy your father. 
 
 Pei: Happy be you! 
 
 All, that you speak, sliows fair. 
 
 Cum. Who have we here 7 
 
 [Stein^ AvTOLYCL's. 
 We'll make an instrument of this; omit 
 Nothing, may give us aid. 
 
 Aut. If they have overheard me now, why, 
 
 hanging. [Aaide. 
 
 Cam. How now. good fellowl Why shakest thou 
 so? Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to 
 thee. 
 
 Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. 
 
 Cam. Why, be so still ; here's nobody will steal 
 that from thee : Yet, for tiie outside of thy poverty, 
 we must make art exchange; thereibie, disease thee 
 instantly, Uhou must tlimk, there's necessity in't,) 
 and change garments with this gentleman ; Though 
 the pennyworth, on his side, be the worst, yet hold 
 Ihee, there's some boot.* 
 
 Aut. 1 am a poor fellow, sir : — I know ye well 
 enough. [Asule. 
 
 Cam. Nay, prythee, despatch: the gentleman is 
 half flayed already. 
 
 Aut. Are you in earnest, sir?— I smell the thick 
 of it— [Aside. 
 
 Flo. Despatch, 1 prythee. 
 
 Aut. Indeed I have had earnest; bull cannot 
 with conscience take it. 
 
 Cam, Unbuckle, unbuckle.— 
 
 [Flo. and Arroi.. exchange garments. 
 Fortunate mistress, — let my prophesy 
 Come home to you— you must retire yourself 
 Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat. 
 And pluck it o'er your brows; mutHe your face; 
 Dismantle you: and as you can, disliken 
 Tlie truth of your own .seeming; that you may 
 (For I do fear eyes over you) to shipboard 
 Get undcscried. 
 
 Per. I see, the play so lies. 
 That 1 must bear a part. 
 
 « I'hysician. 
 
 I A littlu liiiH maiit' of perfumes, and worn to prevent 
 infection in tinic-,s of jiImi^uc. 
 
 8 A bird resembling » jackdaw. 
 
 9 Somcibiog over aud abuve. 
 
 Cam. No remedy.— 
 
 Have you done there? 
 
 Flo. Should I now meet my father, 
 
 He would not call me son. 
 
 Cam. Nay, you shall have 
 
 No hat: — Come, lady, come. — Farewell, my friend. 
 
 Aut. Adieu, sir, 
 
 Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot? 
 Pray you, a word. [They converse apart. 
 
 Cam. What I do next, shall be, to tell the king 
 
 [Aside* 
 Of this escape, and whither they are bound ; 
 Wlierein, my hope is, I shall so pievad. 
 To force him afler: in whose company 
 I shall review Sicilia; for whose sight 
 1 have a woman's longing. 
 
 Flo. " Fortune speed us!— 
 
 Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. 
 
 Corn. The swifier speed, the better. 
 
 [Exeunt Flohizll, Pkhhita, and Cajiillo. 
 
 Aut. I understand the business, 1 hear it: To 
 have an open ear. a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is 
 necessary for a cut-purse: a good nose is requisite 
 also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see, 
 Ihis is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. 
 W^hat an exchange had this been, without boot? 
 what a boot is here, with this exchange ? Sure, the 
 gods do this year connive at us, and we may do any 
 thing exfentpore. Tiie prince himself is about a 
 piece of iniquity; stealing away from his father, 
 with his clog at his heels : If I thought it were not 
 a piece of honesty to acquaint the knig withal, I 
 would dot: I hold it the more knavery to conceal 
 it; and therein am I constant to my profession. 
 
 Enter Clown and Shepherd. 
 
 Aside, aside ; — here is more matter for a hot brain : 
 Kvery lane's end, every shop, church, session, hang- 
 ing, yields a careful man work. 
 
 Cto. See, sec ; what a man you are now ! there 
 Is no other way, but lo tell the king she's a change- 
 ling, and none of your llesh and blood. 
 
 fihep. Nay, but hear me. 
 
 Cln. Nay, but hear me. 
 
 Shep. Go to, then. 
 
 C/o. She being none of your flesh and blood, 
 your flesh and blood has not offended the king : 
 and. so. your flesh and blood is not to be punished 
 by him. Show those things you found about her; 
 those secret things, all but what she has with her: 
 This being done, let the law go whistle; I warrant 
 yon. 
 
 Shcp. I will tell the king all, ^very word, yen, 
 and his son's. pranks too; who. I may say. is no 
 honest man neither to his father, nor to me, to go 
 about to make me the kind's bro'her-in-law. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the furthest off 
 you could Iiave been to him ; and then your blood 
 had been the dearer, by I know how much an 
 ounce. 
 
 Aut. Very wisely ; puppies! [.4szf/?. 
 
 Shep. Well; let us to the king: there is that in 
 this fardel.i will make him scratch his beard. 
 
 Aut. I know not what impediment this complaint 
 may be to liie flight of my master. 
 
 C/o. Pray heartily he be at palace. 
 
 Aut. Though I am not naturally hone=t, 1 am so 
 sometimes by chance:— Lei me pocket up my ped- 
 lers excrement. — [Takes off fits false heard.] How 
 now, rustics? where are you bound ? 
 
 Stiep. To the palace, an it like your worship. 
 
 Anf. Your aflairs there? what? with whom? the 
 condition of that fardil. the place of your dwelling, 
 your names, your ages, of what having,^ breeding, 
 and any thing thai is fitting to be known, discover. 
 
 Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir. 
 
 Aaf. A lie ; you are rough and hairy: Let me 
 have no lying; it becomes none but tradesmen, 
 and they often give us soldiers the he: but we pay 
 them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel ; 
 tliercfore they do not give us tlte lie. 
 
 Clo. Your worship had like to have given us one, 
 if you had not taken yourself with the manner.* 
 
 Shfp. Are you a courtier, an't like you. sir? 
 
 Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier, 
 Set'st thou not the air of the court in (hose enfold- 
 ings? hath not my gait in it. the measure of the 
 court ? receives not thy nose court-odor from me? 
 
 1 Bundle, parcel. aEstate, property. » In the fact. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 247 
 
 reflect I not on thy baseness, court-contempt ? — 
 Tliinlt'st thou, f.ir that 1 insinuate, or toze« from 
 tliee thy busirie.ss. I am therefore no courtier? I am 
 courtier cap-d-p6; amJ one tliat will eitlier push on, 
 or pluck hack thy business there : whereupon I 
 command thee lo open thy alfair. 
 
 Skep. My business, sir.'is to the king. 
 
 Aul. What advocate hast thou to him? 
 
 S'lep, 1 Know not, an't like you. 
 
 Clo, Advocates the court-word for a pheasant; 
 say, you have none. 
 
 Hhip. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock, nor 
 hen. 
 
 A ut. How blessd are vvc, that are not simple men! 
 Yet nature mi^ht have made me as these are, 
 Theref.ire 111 hot disdain. 
 
 Ctij. This cannot be but a great courtier. 
 
 fJ.'ie/). His garments are rich, but he wears them 
 not handsomely. 
 
 Clu. He seems to be the more noble in being fan- 
 tastical ; a great man, I'll warrant ; I know, by the 
 picking oil's teeth. 
 
 Aut. The fjrdel there ? what's i' the fardel ! 
 Wherefore that box! 
 
 Sktp. Sir, there hes such secrets in this firdel, 
 and box, which none must know but the king; 
 and which he shall know within this hour, if 1 may 
 come to the speech of him. 
 
 Aut. A^'e, thou hast lost thy labor. 
 
 Rhep. Why, sir! 
 
 Aut. The knig is not at the palace; he is gone 
 aboard a new ship to purge melancholy, and air 
 himself: For if thou best capable of things serious, 
 thou must know, the king is full of grief. 
 
 Sliep. So 'tis said, sir ; about his son, that should 
 have married a shepherd's daughter. 
 
 Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let 
 him lly ; the curses he shall have, tiie tortures he 
 sliall leel, will break the back of man, the heart of 
 monster. 
 
 Clo. Think you so, sir ? 
 
 Aut. Not he alone shall snlTer what wit can make 
 heavj', and vengeance biller; but those that are 
 germanes to him Ihougli removed fifty times, shall 
 all come under the hangman : which though it be 
 great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whis- 
 tling rogue, a ram-tender, toolTerto have his daugh- 
 ter come into grace ! Some say, he shall be stoned ; 
 but that death is too soft for him, say I : Draw our 
 throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, 
 the sharpest too easy. 
 
 Clo. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear, 
 an't like you, sir ! 
 
 Aut. He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; 
 then, "nointed over with honej-, set on tlie head of 
 a wasp's nest; then stand till he be three-quarters 
 and a dram dead : then recovered again with aqua- 
 vits, or some other hot infusion ; then, raw as he 
 
 is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims,"! 
 shall he be set against a brick wall, the sun looking 
 with a southward eye upon him ; where he is to be- 
 hold him, wilh Hies blown to death. Hut what talk 
 we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to 
 be smiled at, their offences being so capital ! Tell 
 me, (for you seem to be honest plain men.) what 
 you have lo the king : being something gently con- 
 sidered. ^ I'll bring you where he is aboard, lender 
 your persons to his presence, whisper him in your 
 behalls; and. if it he in man, besides the king, to 
 ett'ect >'nur suits, here is the man shall do it. 
 
 Cto. He seems to be of great authority : close 
 with him, give him gold; and though authority be 
 a stubborn hear, yet he is oft led by the nose wilh 
 gold: show the inside of your purse to the outside 
 of his hand, and no more ado: llemember, stoned 
 and flayed alive. 
 
 Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake the bus- 
 iness for lis, here is that gold I have : I'll make it 
 as much more; and leave'this young man in pawn, 
 till 1 bring it to you. 
 
 Aut. .Vfter 1 have done what I promised ! 
 
 ^fiep. Ay, sir. 
 
 Aut. W'ell, give me the moiety:— Ar6 you a 
 party in this business! 
 
 Clu. In some sort, sir; but though my case be a 
 pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. 
 
 Aul. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son : — 
 Hang him, he'll be made an example. 
 
 Cln. C'omfoit, good comfort ; we must to tiie 
 king, and show our strange sights; he must know, 
 'tis none of your daughter nor my si.ster ; we are 
 gone else. .Sir. I will give you as much as this old 
 man does, wir>-i the bus.ness is performed ; and 
 remain, as he s. ''s, your pawn, till it be brought 
 you. 
 
 Aut. I wii. •r'_.st\ou. Walk before toward the 
 sea-side; go on the right hand; 1 will but look 
 upon the hedge, and follow yon. 
 
 i7«. We MIC blessed in tliis man, as I may say; 
 even blessed. 
 
 Him'. Let's before, as he bids us . he was pro- 
 vided to do us good. 
 
 [Exeunt Shepherd and Clown. 
 
 Aut. If I had a mind to be hone.si, 1 see, fortune 
 would not sull'er me; she drops booties in my mouth. 
 I am courted now with a double occasion ; gold, 
 and a means to do the prince my master good ; 
 which, who knows how that may turn back to my 
 advancement ! I will bring these two moles, these 
 blind ones, aboard him: if he think it lit lo shore 
 them again, and that the complaint they have to 
 the king concerns him nothing, let him call me, 
 rogue, for being so fir oflicious; for 1 am proof 
 against that title, and what shame else belongs to't: 
 To him will I present them, there may be matter 
 in it. lExit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 .SCENE I.— Sicilia. A Room in tlie Palace of 
 Leonles. 
 
 Enter Leontes, Cleomexes, Diox, Paulina, 
 
 and others. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have per- 
 form'd 
 A saint-like sorrow : no fault could you make. 
 Which you have not redeem'd ; indeed, paid down 
 More penitence than done trespass : At the last, 
 Do as the heavens have done ; Ibrget your evil ; 
 With them, forgive yourself. 
 
 Leon. Whilst I remember 
 
 Her and her virtues, I cannot forget 
 My blemishes in them; and so still think of 
 The wrong I did myself: which was so much, 
 Tliat heirless it hath made my kingdom ; and 
 Pestroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man 
 Bred liis hopes out of. 
 
 J'aul. True, too true, my lord : 
 
 If, one by one, you wedded all the world, 
 Or, from the all that are, took something good, 
 ■To make a perfect woman ; she you kill'd, 
 ■IVould be unparallefd. 
 
 *I cajole or force. 
 
 ' Kclated. 
 
 Leon. I think so. Kill'd ! 
 
 She I kill'd 1 1 did so: but thou strik'st me 
 Sorely to say 1 did ; it is as bitter 
 Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: Now, good 
 
 now. 
 Say so but seldom. 
 
 Cleo. Not at all, good lady : 
 
 You might have spoken a thousand things that 
 
 would 
 Have done the time more benefit, and graced 
 Your kindness better. 
 
 Paul. You are one of those. 
 
 Would have him wed again. 
 
 Dion. If you would not S3, 
 
 You pity not the state, nor the remembrance 
 (if his ii'iost sovereign dame; consider litlle, 
 What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue, 
 May drop upon his kingdom, and devour 
 Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy, 
 Than to rejoice, the former queen is well! / 
 What holier, than, — for royalty's repair. 
 For present comfort, and for future good, — 
 To bless the bed of majesty again 
 With a sweet fellow to't 1 
 
 6 The hottest day foretold ia the almanac. 
 
 1 Being handsomely bribed. 
 
248 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Paul. There is iimie worthy, 
 
 Re-^jiectiiiE: her tl'.at's gone. Besides, the gods 
 WUl tiave f'u Hilled llicir secret purposes: 
 ]''or has not the divine A polio said, 
 Is't not tlie tenor of liis oracle, 
 That liin^ Leonlcs sbnll not have an heir. 
 Till his lost chdd he fuund ! which, that it shall. 
 Is all as monstrous to our human reason. 
 As my Antijonus to break his grave. 
 And t'.ome a<rain to me ; who. on my life, 
 Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel, 
 My lord should to the heavens be contrary, 
 Oppose a;;a!nst tiieir wills. — Care not for issue ; 
 
 \To Lkontes. 
 The crown will find an Iieir: Great Alexander 
 Left his to the worthiest ; so Ins successor 
 Was like to be the best. 
 
 L^oit. Good Paulina, — 
 Who hast the memory of Hermione, 
 I know in honor, — ■(), that ever I 
 Had .'squared me to tiiy counsel ! — then, even now, 
 I mi^ht have look'd upon my queen's full eyes; 
 Have taken treasure from her lips, 
 
 Paul. , And left them 
 
 More rich, from wliat they yielded. 
 
 Ltun. Thou speak'st truth. 
 
 No more such wives; therefore, no wife: oneworse. 
 And better used, would make her sainted spirit 
 Asaiu possess her corpse; and, on this stage, 
 (Where we olfeuders now appear,) soul-vex'd. 
 Begin, And wluj to me? 
 
 Paul. Had she such power. 
 
 She had just cause. 
 
 Lion. .she had : and would incense me 
 
 To murder her I married. 
 
 Paul. I should so : 
 
 Were I tlie ghost that vvalk'd, I'd bid you mark 
 Her eye; and tell me, for what dull part in't 
 You cliose her: tlien I'd shriek that even your ears 
 Should rift' to hear me; and the words that foUow'd 
 Sliould be, Renitnibtr mine. 
 
 Leon. Stars, very stars. 
 
 And all eyes else dead coals! — fear thou no wife, 
 I'll have no wil'e, Paulina. 
 
 Paul. Will you swear 
 
 Never to marry, but my free leave ] 
 
 L'on. Never, Paulina; so be bless'd my spirit ! 
 
 Paul. Then, good my lords, bear witness lo his 
 oath. 
 
 Clco. You tempt hijn over-much. 
 
 Paul. . Unless another. 
 
 As like Hermione as is her picture, 
 Alfront' his eye. 
 
 Clco. Good Madam, 
 
 Paul. I have done. 
 
 Yet, if my lord will marry, — if you will, sir, 
 No remedy but you will ;'give rne the office 
 To choose 5'ou a queen: she shall not be so young 
 As was your former; but she shall be such, 
 As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take 
 
 jny. 
 To see her in your arms. 
 
 Lain. My true Paulina, 
 
 We shaU not marry, till thou bid'st us. 
 
 Paul. That 
 
 Shall be. when your first queen's again in breath ; 
 Never till then. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 Gent. One that gives out himself prince Florizel, 
 Son of Polixenes, willi his princess, (she 
 The fairest I have yet beheld,) desires access 
 To your higli presence. 
 
 Lean. What with him ■! he comes not 
 
 Like to his fallier's greatness: his approach, 
 So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us, 
 'Tis not a visitation fiamnd, but forced 
 Uy need, and accident. What train ! 
 . <•>"/• But few, 
 
 And those but mean. 
 
 Leon. His piincess, say you, with liim? 
 
 Gent, Ay ; the most peerless piece of earth, 1 
 think. 
 That e'ei tlie sun shone bright on. 
 
 faiit. Hermione, 
 
 As every present time doth boast itself 
 Above a better, gone; so must thy grave 
 Give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself 
 
 ■Split. »Moct. 
 
 Have said, and writ so, (but your writing now 
 is colder than the ttieiue,) She had not Oeen 
 Nor wa^ not to be equalt'd; — thus your verse 
 Flow'd with her beauty once ; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd. 
 To say, you have seen a better. 
 
 Gent. Pardon, madam: 
 
 The one I have almost forgot; (your pardon ;) 
 Tlie other when she has obtain'd youi eye, 
 Will liave your tongue too. This is such a crea- 
 ture. 
 Would she begin a sect, miglit quench the zeal 
 of all professors else; make proselytes 
 Of wlio she but bid ibilow. 
 
 Paul. How ] not women '. 
 
 Gent. Women will love l.er, that she is a woman 
 More worth than any man; men, that she is 
 The rarest of all women. 
 
 Le(ni. Go, Cleomenes; 
 
 Yourself, assisted with your honor'd friends, 
 firing them to our embracement. — -^till, 'tis strange, 
 [Kxeunt Cj.y.oi>ii.st.s, Lvrd^, and Gentleman. 
 He thus should steal upon us. 
 
 Paul. Had our prince, 
 
 (Jewel of children,) seen this hour, he had pair'd 
 Well with this lord ; tliere was not full a month 
 i3etween tlteir births. 
 
 Leon. Pry thee, no more; thou know'st, 
 
 He dies to me again, when talk'd of; sure. 
 When 1 shall see this gentleman, thy speeches 
 Will bring n.e to consider that, which may 
 Unfurnish me of reason. — Tiiey are come. 
 
 Re-enter Cleomesks. leit/i Flokizel, Perdita, 
 
 and Attendants. 
 Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince ; 
 i*'or she did jirint your royal father olti 
 Conceiving you: Were I but twenty-one, 
 Your father's image is so lot in you. 
 His very air, that i should call you brother. 
 As 1 did him; and speak of something, wildly 
 By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome ! 
 And your fair princess, goddess! — O, alas ! 
 i lost a couple, that 'Iwixt heaven and earth 
 Might thus liave stood, begetting wonder, as 
 You, gracious couple, do ! and tlien I lost 
 (All mine own folly) the society. 
 Amity too, of your brave father; whom, 
 Tliouglr bearing misery, I desire my liiti 
 Once more to look upon. 
 
 Flo. By his command 
 
 Have I here touch'd Sicilia: and from him 
 Give you all greetings, iliat a king, at friend. 
 Can send his brother: and, but iiihrmity 
 (Which waits upon worn times) hatii someUiiiig 
 
 seiz'd 
 His wish'd ability, he had himself 
 The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his 
 Measur'd, to look upon you ; whom he loves 
 (He hade me say so) more than all the sceptres, 
 And those that bear them, living. 
 
 Lecni. O, my brother, 
 
 (Good gentleman,) the wrongs I have done thee, stir 
 Afresh within me; and these Ihy oUices, 
 So rarely kind, are as interpreters 
 Of my behind-hand slackness ! — Welcome hither, 
 As is the spring to the earth And hath he too 
 F.xpos'd this paragon to tl;e fearful usage 
 (At least, ungentle) of the dreadlul Neptune, 
 To greet a man, not worth her pains ; much less 
 The adventure of her person ? 
 
 Plo. Good my lord, 
 
 She came from Libya. 
 
 Leon. Where the warlilce Smalus, 
 
 That noble honor'd lord, is fear'd, and lov'd ! 
 
 Flo. INIost royal sir, from thence : from him, wdiose 
 daughter 
 His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence, 
 (A prosperoussouth-wind friendly,) wehavecross'd, 
 To execute the chargi' my father uave me. 
 For visiting your highness : My best train 
 I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd ; 
 Who for Bohemia bend, to signify 
 Not only my success in Libya, sir, 
 But my arrival, and my wife's, in safely 
 Here, where we are. 
 
 Leo7i. Tlie blessed gods 
 
 Purge all infection from our air, whilst you 
 Do climate here ! You have a holy father. 
 A graceful genlleman; against whose pcrsi n, 
 So sacred as it is, I have done sin : 
 
Scene II. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 249 
 
 For which the heavens, takin;; an»ry note. 
 Have left me issueless; antl your lather's bless'd 
 (.\s he from lieaven merits il) with you, 
 Wortliy his goodness. What nii^ht I iiave been, 
 Might 1 a son and daugliter now have look'd on, 
 Such goodly things as you] 
 
 Enlcr a Lord. 
 
 Lord. Most noble sir, 
 
 That which I shall report, will bear no credit. 
 Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, 
 Boliemia greets you from himself, by nie ; 
 Desires you to attach* his son, who has 
 {His dignity and duly both cast oil') 
 Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with 
 A shepherds daugliter. 
 
 Leo". Where's Bohemia ? speak. 
 
 Lord. Here in tlie city : I now came from him; 
 I speak amazedly ; and it becomes 
 My marvel, and my message. To your court 
 Whiles he was hast'ning, (in the chase, it seems, 
 Of this fair couple,) meets he on the way 
 The father of ifiis seeming lady, and 
 Her brother, having both their country quitted 
 With this young p iiice. 
 
 Flo. Camillo has betray'd me ; 
 
 Whose honor, and whose hone^ty, till now, 
 Kndured all weathers. 
 
 Lord. Lay"t so, to his charge ; 
 
 He's with the king your father. 
 
 Leon. Who? Camillo? 
 
 Lijrd. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now 
 Has these poor men in question.'^ Never saw I 
 Wretches so quake : they kneel, they kiss the earth; 
 Forswear themselves as often as they speak ; 
 Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them 
 With divers deaths in death. 
 
 Per. O, my poor father ! — 
 
 The heaven sels spies upon us, will not have 
 Our contract celebrated. 
 
 Leon . You are married 1 
 
 Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; 
 The stars, I see, will tiss the valleys first : 
 The odds for high and low's alike.i 
 
 Lean. My lord, 
 
 Is this the daughter of a king ? 
 
 Flo. She is, 
 
 Wlieii once she is my wife. 
 
 Leon. That once, 1 see, by your good father's speed. 
 Will come on very slowly. 1 ani-sorry. 
 Most sorry, you have broken from his liking, 
 Where you were tied in duty : and as sorry. 
 Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, 
 That you might well enjoy her. 
 
 Flo. Dear, look up : 
 
 Thouixh fortune, visible an enemy. 
 Should chase us, with my father ; power no jot 
 Hath she, to change our loves. — 'Beseech you, sir 
 Remember since you ow'd no more to time 
 Than I do now : with thought of such affections, 
 Step fi>rth mine advocate; at your request. 
 My father will grant precious things, as trifles. 
 
 Leon. Would ho do so, I'd beg your precious 
 mistress. 
 Which he counts but a trille. 
 
 Paul. Sir, my liege, 
 
 Your eye hath too much youth in't : not a month 
 'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such 
 
 gazes. 
 Than what you look on now. 
 
 Leon. I thought of her. 
 
 Even in these looks I made. — But your petition 
 
 [To Flokizel. 
 Is yet unanswer'd : I will to your father ; 
 Y'our honor not o'erthrown by your desires, 
 I am a friend to them, and you: upon which errand 
 1 now go toward him; therefore, follow me. 
 And mark what way I make : Come, good my lord. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 SCENF, n.— Before the Palace. 
 Enter AuTOLYcus and a Gentleman. 
 
 Aut. 'Beseech you, sir, were you present at this 
 relation 1 
 
 1 Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, 
 heard the old shejiherd deliver the manner, how he 
 found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we 
 
 1 Seize, arrest. 2 Conversation, 
 
 ■ A quibble on the false (Uce so called. 
 
 were all commanded out of the chamber; only this 
 nu'thought I heard the shepherd say, he found the 
 child. 
 Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it. 
 
 1 Gent. I make a broken delivery of the business: 
 — But the changes I perceived in the king, and 
 Camillo, were very notes of admiration: they seemed 
 almost, with staring on one auotlier, to tear the 
 cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumb- 
 ness, language in tlieir very gesture; they looked, 
 as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one de- 
 stroyed : A noiable passion of wonder appeared in 
 them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more 
 but seeing, could not say, if the importance* were 
 joy, or sorrow : but in the extremity of the one, it 
 must needs be. 
 
 Enter another Gentleman. 
 Here comes a gentleman, that happily, knows more: 
 The news, Rogero 1 
 
 2 Gent. Notiiing but bonfires: The oracle is ful- 
 filled ; the king's daughter is found ; such a deal of 
 wonder is broken out within this hour, that ballad- 
 makers cannot be able to express it. 
 
 Enter a third Gentleman. 
 
 Here comes the lady Paulina's steward ; he can de- 
 liver you more. — How goes it now, sir ] this news, 
 which is called true, is so like an old tale, that the 
 verity of it is in strong suspicion : Has the king 
 found his heir \ 
 
 3 Gent. Most true ; if ever truth were pregnant 
 by circumstance; that '"which you hear, you II swear 
 you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The 
 mantle of queen llermione: — her jewel about the 
 neck of it : — the letters of Antigonus, found with it, 
 which they know to be his character:— the majesty 
 of the creature, in resemblance of the mother; — 
 the alfection* of nobleness, which nature shows 
 above her breeding, — and many other evidences, 
 proclaim her, with all cerlainty, to be the king's 
 daughter. Did you sec the meeting of the two 
 kings'! 
 
 2 Gent. No. 
 
 3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which was 
 to be seen, cannot be spoken of There might you 
 have beheld one joy crown another; so, and in such 
 manner, that it seemed, sorrow wept to take leave 
 of them ; for their joy waded in tears. There was 
 casting up of eyes, holding up of hands ; with 
 countenance of such distraction, that they were to 
 be known by garment, not by favor.« Our kin^, 
 being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his 
 found daughter; as if that joy were now become a 
 loss, cries. 0, thy mother, thii mother.' then asks 
 Bohemia forgiveness ; then em'braces liisson-in-la;v; 
 then again worries he his daughter, with clipping' 
 her; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands 
 by, like a ■weather-beaten conduit of many kings' 
 reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, 
 which lames report to follow it, and undoes descrip- 
 tion to do it. 
 
 2 Gent. What, pray you. became of Antigonus, 
 that carried hence the child 1 
 
 3 Gent. Like an old tale still; which will have 
 matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not 
 an ear open : He was torn to pieces wi<h a bear, 
 this avouches the shepherd's son ; who has not only 
 his innocence (which seems much) to justify him, 
 but a handkerchief, and rings, of his, that Paulina 
 knows. 
 
 1 Gent. What became of his bark, and his fol- 
 lowers ! 
 
 3 Gent. Wreck'd, the same instant of their mas- 
 ter's death ; and in the view of the shepherd : so 
 that all the instruments, which aided to expose the 
 child, were even then lost, when it was found. But, 
 O, the noble combat, thai, 'twixt joy and sorrow, 
 was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined 
 for the loss of her husband ; another elevated that 
 the oracle was fulfilled: She lifted the princess 
 from the earth : and so locks her in embracing, as 
 if she would pin her to her heart, thai she might 
 no more be in danger of losing. 
 
 1 Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the 
 audience of kings and princes ; for by such was it 
 acted. 
 
 « The thing imported. 
 6 Countenance, features. 
 
 » Disposition or quality. 
 1 Embracing. 
 
250 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 3 Gcnf. One of the prettiest touches of all, and 
 that whicli uncled for mine eyes, (eau^ht the water, 
 though not the fish,) vva^^, wlien at the relation of 
 the queen*s death, with the manner how she came 
 to it, (bravely confessed, and lamented by the kins;,) 
 how attcntivenoss wound^^d his dauzhter: till, from 
 one sien of dolor to another, she did with an alas! 
 I would fain say, bleed tears; for, I am sure, my 
 heart wepl blood. Who was most marble there. 
 chani;5ed color ; some swooned, all sorrowed : if 
 all the world could have seen it, the woe had been 
 universal. 
 
 1 Gent. Are they returned to the court 1 
 
 3 Gent, No : the princess heaiinsr of her mother's 
 statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina. — a piece 
 many years in dointr, and now nearly performed by 
 tliatrarc Itilian master, .luiio Romano; who. had 
 he himself eternity, and could put breath into his 
 work, would bes:uile nature of her custom, so per- 
 fectly is he her ape : he so near to Ilermione halh 
 done Hermii>ne, that, they say, one would speak to 
 her, and stand in hope of answer : thither with all 
 greediness of affection, are they gone; and there 
 they intend to sup. 
 
 2 Gent. I thouich.t, she had some creat matter 
 there in hand ; for. she hath privately, twice or 
 thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, 
 visited that removed house. 5'hall we thither, and 
 vpith our company piece the rejoicin:?^ 
 
 1 Gent. Who would be thence, that has the bene- 
 fit of access 1 every wink of an eye, some new 
 grace will be born : "our absence makes us unthrifty 
 to our knowledge. Let's alons. 
 
 \Exeunf Gentlemen. 
 
 Auf. Xow, had I not the dash of my former life 
 in me. would preferment drop on my head. I 
 brou;jht the old man and his son aboard tlie prince ; 
 told him I heard him talk of a fardel, and I know 
 not what: but he at that time, over-fnnd of the 
 shepherd's daughter, (so he then took her to he.) 
 who bei^an to be much sea-sick, and Iiimself little 
 better, extremity of weather continuinsr, this mys- 
 tery remained undiscovered. But 'tis all one to mr: 
 for had I been tlie linder-out of this secret, it would 
 not have relished among my other discredits. 
 
 Enter Shepherd a?id Clown. 
 Here come those I have done ffood to against my 
 will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their 
 fortune. 
 
 Shep. Come, boy; T am past more children; but 
 thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen 
 born. 
 
 do. You are well met. sir; You denied to fight 
 with me this other day, because I was no gentleman 
 boru : See you these clothes 1 say. you see them 
 not, and thmk me still no gentleman born: you 
 were best say, these robes are not srenllemen born. 
 Give me the lie ; do ; and try whether I am not now 
 a gentleman born. 
 
 Aitt. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. 
 
 Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these four 
 hours. 
 
 Shep. And so have I, boy. 
 
 Cln. So ynu have: — but I was a gentleman boru 
 before my father : for the king's son took me by the 
 hand, and called me, bi'other: and then the two 
 kings called my father, brother; and then the 
 prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister, 
 called my father, father; and so we wept: and 
 there was the first genlleman-Hke tears that ever 
 we shed. 
 
 Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. 
 
 C/o. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so 
 preposterous estate as we are. 
 
 Auf. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me 
 all the faults I have committed to your worship, and 
 to give me your good report to the prince my 
 master. 
 
 Shep. Prythee, son, do ; for we must be gentle, 
 now we are gentlemen. 
 
 Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life'? 
 
 Ant. Ay, an it like your- good worship, 
 
 Clo. Give me tiiy hand: I will swear to tlie 
 prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in 
 Bohemia. 
 
 Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. 
 
 Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let 
 boors and franldins" say it, I'll swear it. 
 • Yeomen. 
 
 Shep. How if it be false, son ? 
 
 do. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may 
 swe.u- it in the behalf of his friend: — And I'll 
 swear to the prince, thou art a tall' fellow of thy 
 hands, and that tliou wilt not be drunk; but I 
 know, thou art no tall fellow of thy hands, and 
 that thou wilt be drunk; but 111 swear it: audi 
 would, thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. 
 
 Aut. I will prove so, sir, to my power. 
 
 Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I 
 do not wonder, how thou darcst venture to be 
 drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. — Hark! 
 tiie kings and the princes, our kindred, are goin^ 
 to see the queens picture. Come, follow us : \ve'll 
 be thy good masters. [Exeimt* 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Room in Paulina's House. 
 
 Enter Lkoxtks. Polixkxes, Florizel, Perdita, 
 Camillo, Paulina, Lords ami Attendants. 
 
 Leon. O grave and good Paulina, tlie great com- 
 fort 
 That I have had of thee ! 
 
 Paul. What, sovereign sir, 
 
 I did not well, I meant well: All my services, 
 You have paid home : but that you have vouchsafed 
 With your crown'd brother, and these your con- 
 tracted 
 Fleirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, 
 It is a surplus of your grace which never 
 My life may last to answer. 
 
 Leon. O Paulina, 
 
 We honor you with trouble: But we came 
 To see the statue of our queen : your gallery 
 Have we passed through, not without much content 
 In many singularities; but we saw not 
 That which my daughter came to look upon. 
 The statue of lier mother. 
 
 Paul. As she liv'd peerless, 
 
 So her dead likeness, I do well believe, 
 Excels whatever yet you look'd upon. 
 Or hand of man hath done ; therefore [ keep it 
 Lonely, apart: But here it is: prepare 
 To see the life as lively mock'cf. as ever 
 Still sleep niock*d death: behold ; and say, *tis well, 
 [Paulina undraws a Curtain, and discovers a 
 Stalue. 
 I like your silence, it the more shows ofF 
 Your vv-onder: but yet speak; — first, you ray liege, 
 Comes it not somefhing near? 
 
 Leon. Her natural posture !— 
 
 Chide me, dear stone; that I may say, indeed. 
 Thou art Hermione : or, rather, thou art she, 
 In thy not chiding; for she was as tender, 
 As infancy and grace.— lUit yet, Paulina, 
 Hermione was not so much wrinkled; nothing 
 So aged, as this seems. 
 
 Pol. O, not by much. 
 
 Piiul. So much the more our carver's excellence; 
 Which lets go by some sixteen yeary, and makes her 
 As she liv'd now, 
 
 Leon, As now slie might have done, 
 
 So much to my good comfort, as it is 
 Now jiiercing to my soul. O. thus she stood. 
 Even with such life of majesty, (warm life. 
 As now it coldly stands.) when first I woo'd her! 
 I am ashamed: Does not the stone rebuke me. 
 For being more stone than it ?— (), royal piece. 
 There's ma'j:ic in thy majesty ; which has 
 My evils conjur'd to remembrance ; and 
 From thy admiring daughter look the spirits, 
 Standing like stone with thee ! 
 
 Per. And give me leave; 
 
 And do not say 'tis superstition, that 
 I kneel, and then implore her blessing. — Lady, 
 Dear queen, tliat ended when I but begaji. 
 Give me that hand of yours, to kiss. 
 
 Paul. O, patience; 
 
 The statue is but newly fix'd, the colors 
 Not dry. 
 
 Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid en : 
 Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, 
 So many summers, dry: scarce any joy 
 Did ever so long Live; no sorrow, 
 But kilfd itself much sooner. 
 
 Pitl. Dear my brother, 
 
 Let him, that was the cause of this, have power 
 To take olf so much grief from you, as he 
 Will piece up in himself. 
 
 » Stout. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 251 
 
 Paul. Indeed, my lord. 
 
 If I had thought t}ic si^ht of my poor image 
 Woald thus liave wrought you, Uor the stone is 
 
 mine.) 
 I'd not liave show'd it. 
 
 Leon, Do not draw the curtain. 
 
 Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't; lest your 
 fancy 
 May think anon, it moves. 
 
 Leon. Let be, let be. 
 
 ■\Vould I were dead, but that, melhinks already — 
 What was he, that did malie it '. — See, my lord. 
 Would you not deem, it bieatli'd! and that those 
 
 veins 
 Did verily bear blood? 
 
 Pol. Masterly done : 
 
 The very life seems warm upon her lip. 
 
 Leon. Tlie fixuro of her eye has motion in't 
 As' we are mock'd wiili art. 
 
 Paul. I'll draw the curtain ; 
 
 My lord's almost so far transported, that 
 He'll think anon, it Uvea. 
 
 Lenn. O, sweet Paulina, 
 
 Make me to think so twenty years toscthcr; 
 No settled senses of th.e world can match 
 The pleasure of that mauiiess. Left alone. 
 
 Paul. I am sorry, sir, 1 have thus far stirr'd yoi: 
 but 
 I could afflict you further. 
 
 Leon. Do, Paulina ; 
 
 For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
 As any cordial comfort. — ^till, methinks, 
 Tiiere is an air comes from her: What fine cliisel 
 Could ever yet cut breath ! Let no man mock me, 
 For I will kiss her. 
 
 Paul. Good my lord, forbear : 
 
 The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; 
 You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own 
 With oily painting: Shall I draw the curtain? 
 
 Ixon. No, not tliese twenty years. 
 
 Per. So long could I 
 
 Stand by, a looker-on. 
 
 Paul. Either forbear, 
 
 Qu it presently the chapel ; or resolve you 
 For more amazement: If you can beliold it, 
 111 make the statue move; indeed, descend. 
 And take you by tlic liand: but then you U think, 
 (Which I protest against,) 1 am assisted 
 Uy wicked powers. 
 
 Levn. What you can make her do, 
 
 I am content to look on : what to speak 
 I am content to hear: for 'tis as easy 
 To mal»e her sijeak, as move. 
 
 Paul. It is required 
 
 'Vou do awake your faith : Then, all stand still ; 
 Or those, that tliink it is unlawful business 
 1 am about, let them depart. 
 
 LeoJi. Proceed ; 
 
 No font shall stir. 
 
 Paul. Music ; awake her : strike. — \M'isic. 
 'Tistiiiie; descend; be stone no more : approach, 
 Strike all that loolc ujion wilh marvel. Come : 
 I'll fill your grave up ; stir ; nay, come away ; 
 Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him 
 Dear life redeems you. — You perceive she stirs: 
 
 IHermiosi; comes down from llie Pedestal. 
 » ABif. 
 
 Start not: her actions shall be holy, as. 
 
 You hear, my spell is lawiul : do not shun her, 
 
 Until you see lier die again; for then 
 
 You kdl her double: Nay, present your hand: 
 
 When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in 
 
 age. 
 Is she become the suitor. 
 
 Leon. 0, she's warm ! [Embracing her. 
 
 If tliis be magic, let it be an art 
 Lawful as eating. 
 
 Pol. She embraces him. 
 
 Cam. She hangs about his neck ; 
 If she pertain to lite, let her speak too. 
 
 Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has liv'd, 
 Or, how stolen from the dead. 
 
 Paul. That she is living, 
 
 Were it but told you, should be hooted at 
 Like an old tale; but it appears, she lives 
 Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. — 
 Please you to interpose, fair madam ; kneel. 
 And pray your mother's blessing. — Turn, good 
 
 lady ; 
 Our Pcrdita is found. 
 
 [Presentinf; PEiiBiTi, ivho kneels to 
 Heumione. 
 
 Her. You gods, look down, 
 
 .\iid from your sacred vials pour your graces 
 Upon my daughter's head! — Tell me, iliine own, 
 Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd! how 
 
 found 
 Thy father's court 1 for thou shall hear that I, — 
 Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle 
 Gave hope thou wast in being, — have preserv'd 
 Myself to see the issue. 
 
 Paul. There's time enough for that; 
 
 Lest they desire, upon this pusli, to trouble 
 Your joys wilh like relation. — Go together. 
 You precious winners all: your exultation 
 Partake to every one. 1, an old tu.tle. 
 Will wing me to some witlier'd bough; and there 
 My mate, that's never to be found again, 
 Lament till I am lost. 
 
 l^'Mn. peace, Paulina; 
 
 Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, 
 As I by thine, a wife: this is a match. 
 And made betweeirs by vows. Thou hast found 
 
 mine; 
 But how, IS it to be qucstion'd ; for I saw her, 
 .\s I thought, dead ; and have, in vain, said many 
 .\ prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far 
 (For him, 1 partly know his mind) to find thee 
 An honorable husband :— Come, Camillo. 
 And take her by the hand : whose worth, and 
 
 honesty, 
 Is richly noted ; and here justified 
 By us, a pair of kings. — Let's from this place. — 
 What '. — Look upon my brolher : — both your 
 
 pardons. 
 That e'er I put between your holy looks 
 My ill suspicion. — This your son-in-law. 
 And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) 
 I.-5 troth-plight to your daughter. — Good Paulina, 
 Lead us from hence ; where we may leisurely 
 Facli one demand, and answer to ins part 
 Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first 
 We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away. 
 
 [E.veunf 
 
COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Sotixus, Luke cf Epliesus. 
 ^GEox, a Merchant of Syracuse. 
 
 r Tutin Brothers, and 
 Antipiioics of Ephesus, J Hons tii JEneon and 
 ASTiriioLus of Syracuse, j JEmiWa.hnt hnlenown 
 
 [ to each otiier. 
 
 Dno>no„/ Ephesus, ( S»/f ™,f S too /nl 
 Dbomu,,/ Syracuse, I ~^s,s. 
 Balthazar, a Merchant. 
 
 ANfiKLo, a Gotdsmith. 
 
 A Merchant, Friend to Antipliolus of Syracuse. 
 
 Pinch, a Schoolmaster, and a Crjnjurer. 
 
 iEMiLiA, Wife to Aiitipliolus of Ephesus. 
 Adiuana, Wife to Aullpliolus (/Ephesus. 
 LuciANA, her Sister, 
 Luce, her Servant. 
 A Courtezan, 
 
 Gaoler, Officers, and oilier Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, Ephesus. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Hall in the Duke's Palace. 
 
 Enter Duke, iEoEON, Gaoler, Officers, an tZ otiier 
 Altondants. 
 
 j^ge. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, 
 And by the doom of death, end woes and all. 
 
 Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more ; 
 I am not partial to infringe our laws: 
 The enmity and discord, which of late 
 Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke 
 To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, — 
 Who, wanting gilders' to redeem their lives. 
 Have seald his rig'rous statutes with their liloods, — 
 Excludes all pity from our threafning looks, 
 For, since the mortal and intestine jars 
 'Twixt thy seditious cninitrj-men and us, 
 It hath in solemn synods been decreed, 
 Both by the Syracusans and ourselves. 
 To admit no traffic to our adverse towns: 
 Nay, more. 
 
 If any born at Ephesus, be seen 
 At any Syracusan marls and fairs ; 
 Again, It any Syracusan born. 
 Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, 
 His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose ; 
 Unless a thousand marks be levied. 
 To quit the penalty, and to ransome him. 
 Thy substance valued at the highest rate, 
 Cannot amount unto a hmidred marks; 
 Therefore, by law thou art condemnd to die. 
 
 JEne. Yet this my comfort ; when your words 
 are done. 
 My woes end likewise with the evening sun. 
 
 Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause 
 Why thou departcdst from thy native home; 
 Ami for what cause thou cani'st to Ephesus. 
 
 jSge. A heavier task could not have been impos'd 
 Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable: 
 Yet, that the world may witness, that my end 
 W^as wrought by nature, not by vile offence, 
 I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. 
 In Syracusa was I born ; and wed 
 Unto a woman, happy but for me. 
 And by me too, had not our hap been bad. 
 Willi her I liv'd in )oy ; our wealth increased, 
 By prosperous voyages I ofien made 
 To Kpidamnum, till my factors death ; 
 And he (great care of goods at random left) 
 Drew me from kind embraoements of my spouse: 
 From whom my absence was not six months old, 
 Before herself (lilmost at lainting under 
 The pleasiri-r purpshment th:it women bear) 
 Had made provision tor her following me, 
 
 1 Name of a com. 
 252 
 
 And soon, and safe, arrived where I was. 
 
 There she had not been long, but she became 
 
 A joyful mother of two goodly sons ; 
 
 And which was strange, the one so like the otiier, 
 
 As could not be distingnish'd but by names. 
 
 That very hour, and in the self-same imi, 
 
 A poor mean woman was delivered 
 
 (If such a burden, male twins, boUi alike: 
 
 Those, for their parents w^eie exceeding poor, 
 
 I bought, and brought up to attend my sous. 
 
 My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, 
 
 Made daily motions for our home return: 
 
 Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon. 
 
 We came aboard : 
 
 A league from F'.pidamnum had we sailed, 
 
 Before the always-wind-obeying deep 
 
 Gave any tragic instance of our harm : 
 
 But longer did we not retain much hope ; 
 
 For what obscured light the heavens did grant 
 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death ; 
 
 Which, though mysellvvould g.'adly have embracei^ 
 
 Yet the incessant weepings ot my wife, 
 
 Weeping before for what she saw must come, 
 
 And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, 
 
 That rnourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, 
 
 Forced me to seek delays for them and me. 
 
 And this it was, — for other means was none. — 
 
 The sailors sought for safety by our boat. 
 
 And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us: 
 
 My wife, more careful for the elder bom, 
 
 Had fastcn'd him unto a small spare mast, 
 
 Such as sea-faring men provide for storms; 
 
 To him one of tlie other twins was bound. 
 
 Whilst I had been like heedful of the other. 
 
 The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, 
 
 Fixing our eyes on whom our care was tix'd, 
 
 Fastcn'd ourselves at either end the mast ; 
 
 And floating straight, obedient to the stream, 
 
 Were carried towards Corinlh, as we thought. 
 
 At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, 
 
 Dispersd those vapors tiiat oiTendod us; 
 
 And, by the benefit of his wish'd hght. 
 
 The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered 
 
 Two ships from far making amain to us, 
 
 Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this : 
 
 Rut ere they came, — t), let me say no more ! 
 
 Gather the sequel by tliat went before. 
 
 Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so; 
 For we may pity, though not pardon thee. 
 
 jEfiC. 0,'had the gods done so, I had not now 
 Worthily term'd them meiriless to us! 
 For, ere tlie ships could meet by twice five leagues, 
 We were encounter'd by a mighty rock ; 
 Which being violently borne upon,- 
 
SCEKE II. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 253 
 
 Our helpful sliip was splitted in the midst, 
 
 So that. 111 tins unjust divorce of us, 
 
 Fortune had left to botli of us aUke 
 
 What to deiiglit in, what to sorrow for. 
 
 Her part, pour soul ! seeniint; as burdened 
 
 With Icsyer weight, but not with lesser woe, 
 
 Was carried wltli more speed before the wind ; 
 
 And in our si'^lit they three were taken up 
 
 By tishernien of Cornith, as we tliought. 
 
 At length, another ship iiad seiz'd on us ; 
 
 And, knowing whom it was tbeir h.ip to save, 
 
 Gave helpful weleoine to then- shipwrcck'd quests; 
 
 And would have reftj the Jishers of Ihcir prey, 
 
 Had not their bark been very slow of sail. 
 
 And therefore homeward did they bend their 
 
 course. — 
 Thus have you heard me sever* d from my bliss ; 
 That by misfortunes was my life prolonged, 
 To tell sad stones of my own misiiaps. 
 
 Duke. \nd, for the sake of them thou sorrowesl 
 for. 
 Do me the favor to dilate at full 
 What hath bcfall'n of tbem, and thee, till now. 
 
 ^ge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, 
 At eigbteen years became inquisitive 
 After his brother; and impuriund me. 
 That his attendant (for his case was like, 
 Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name) 
 Might bear him company in the quest of him: 
 Whom whilst I lai)or'd of a love to see 
 I hazarded the loss of whom I lovd. 
 Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece, 
 Roaming' cfean^ through the bounds of Asia, 
 And, coasting: homew.ird. came to Kphesus; 
 Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought, 
 Or that, or any place that harbors men. 
 But here must end tlie story of my life; 
 And happy were I in my lunely death. 
 Could alTmy travels warrant me they live. 
 
 Duke. Hapless JEgeon, whom the fates have 
 mark'd 
 To bear the extremity of dire mishap ! 
 Now, trust me, were it not again---t our laws, 
 Against my crown, my oath, my dignity. 
 Which princes, would they, may not disannul, 
 My soul should sue as advocate for thee. 
 But, though thou art adjudged to the death. 
 And passed sentence may not be recall'd, 
 But, to our honor's great disparagement, 
 Yet will 1 favor thee in what I can : 
 Therefore, merchant. 111 limit Ihee this day 
 To seek thy help by benefuial help: 
 Try all the friends thou Jiast in Ephesus; 
 Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, * 
 And live ; if not, then lliou art doom'd to die: — 
 Gaoler, take him to thy custody. 
 
 Gaol. I will, my lord. 
 
 ACge. Hopeless, and helpless, doth /Egeon wend,-* 
 But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.— A public place. 
 
 Enter AyTTPHOLUs and Dtiomto f/ Syracuse, and 
 a Merchant. 
 
 Mer. Therefore, give out. you areof Epidamnum, 
 Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. 
 This very day, a Syrac-nsaii merchant 
 Is appreiiended for arrival here; 
 And, not being able to buy out his life, 
 According to the statute of the town. 
 Dies ere the weary sun set in the west: 
 There is your money that I had to keep. 
 
 Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, 
 And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 
 Within this hour it will be dinner-time: 
 Till that Ml view the manners of the town, 
 Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, 
 And tlien return, and sleep within mine inn ; 
 For with long travel I am stilfand weary. 
 Get thee away. 
 
 Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word, 
 And go indeed, having so good a mean. 
 
 [Exit Dno. S. 
 
 Ant. S. A trusty villain,* sir; that very oft. 
 When I am dull with care and melancholy, 
 Lightens my humor with his merry jests. 
 
 'i Bereft, deprived. 
 «Go. 
 
 3 Cleop, completely. 
 »i. e. Servant, 
 
 Wliat, will you walk with nic about the town, 
 And then go to my inn, and dine with me? 
 
 Mcr. 1 am invited, sir, to certain merchants, 
 Of whom I hupe to make much beneht ; 
 I crave your purdoii. Soon, at five o'clock, 
 Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart, 
 And afterwards consort >ou till bed-lime; 
 My present busuiess calls me from you now. 
 
 Ant. S. Farewell till then: 1 will go lose myself, 
 And wander up and down, to view tlie city- 
 
 Mer. Sir, 1 commend you to your own content. 
 [Exit Merchant. 
 
 Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own con- 
 tent, 
 Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 
 1 to the world am like a drop of water. 
 That in the ocean seeks another drop ; 
 Who, fading there to find his fellow' forth, 
 Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: 
 So 1, to find a mother, and a brother, 
 In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 
 
 Eatei- Dromio of Ephesus. 
 Here comes the almanac of my true date, — 
 What now! Mow chance, thou art return d so soon! 
 Dro. E. Jleiurn d so soon ! rather approach'd too 
 late : 
 The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit; 
 The clock has strucken twelve upon the hell, 
 My mistress made it one upon my cheek: 
 she is so hot, because the meat is cold ; 
 The meat is cold, because you come not home; 
 You come not home, because you have no stomach; 
 Vou have no stomach, having broke your last; 
 But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, 
 Are penitent for your .iefault to-day. 
 Ant. i^. Stoi> m your wind, sir ; tell me this, I 
 pray ; 
 Where have you left the money that T gave you : 
 Dro. E. O,— sixpence", that 1 had o'VVednesday 
 last. 
 To pay the saddier for my mistress' crupper; — 
 The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not. 
 
 Ant. a. I am not in a sportive humor now : 
 Tell me, and dally not, where is the money 1 
 We being strangei*3 here, how dar'st thou trust 
 So great a charge from thine own custody ? 
 
 Dro. E. 1 pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner; 
 I from my mistress come to you in post; 
 If 1 return, 1 sliall be post indeed; 
 For she will scure your lault upon my pate. 
 Methinks, your maw, like nujte, should be your 
 
 clock. 
 And strike you home without a messenger. 
 Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out 
 of season; 
 Reserve them till a merrier hour than this: 
 Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee 1 
 Dro. E. To me, sir \ why you gave no gold to me. 
 Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your fool- 
 ishness. 
 And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. 
 Dro.E. My charge was but to fetch you from the 
 mart 
 Home to your house, the Phosnix, sir, to dinner; 
 My mistress, and her sister, stay for you. 
 
 A/it. S. Now. as I am a christian, answer me, _ 
 In vv'hat safe place you have bestow'd my money; 
 Or 1 shall break that Oicrry sconce of yours. 
 That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd : 
 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me 7 
 Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my 
 pate, 
 Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, 
 But not a thousand marks between you both. — 
 If I should pay your worship those again, 
 Percliance, you wdl not beir them patiently. 
 Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, 
 
 liast thou I 
 Dro. E. Your worship's wife, niy mistress at the 
 Phoenix : 
 She that doth fa.4, till you come home to dinner, 
 And prays, that you will hie you home to dnnier. 
 Ant^ S* What, wilt thou llout me thus unto my 
 face. 
 Being forbid ] There, take you that, sir knave. 
 Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for heaven's sake, 
 hold your hands; 
 Nay, an you will not, sir, 111 take my heels. 
 
 [Exit Dro. R. 
 
254 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 A/tf. S. I'po]i mj" lire, by some device or otiicr, 
 The vilhiin is o er-raug^hl"" of all my money. 
 They say. this town is fuU of eozenaf^e; 
 As. nimble ju^^lers, that deceive the eye, 
 D;irk-\vorlciii^ sorcerers, that change the mind, 
 Soul-kiUin^ witches, that deform the body ; 
 
 Disfjuised cheaters, pratiiiL; mountebanks, 
 
 Ana many such hke iibertit-s vt' sin; 
 
 If it prt)ve so, I will be icune the sooner. 
 
 Ill tu the Centaur, to go seek this sla^'e; 
 
 I greatly fear my money is not safe. [Exit* 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— -i pubUc jilare. 
 Enter Adhiasa and Luciaxa. 
 
 Air. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd. 
 That in such liaste I sent to seek his "master! 
 Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. 
 
 Lhc. perhaps, some mercliant hath invited him, 
 And from the mart he's somewliere gone to dinner. 
 Good sister, let us dine, and never fret: 
 A man is master of liis liberty: 
 Time is their m.ister; and. when they see time. 
 They U ;:;o, or come: if so. he patient, sister. 
 
 A<ii\ Why should their liberty than ours be more? 
 
 L\ic. Because their business still lies out o'door. 
 
 Air. Look, when I serve him so. he takes it ill. 
 
 Lhc. (), know, he is the bridle of your will. 
 
 A Ir. There's none but asses will be bridled so. 
 
 Luc. Why headstron;; liberty is lashM with woe. 
 There^ nothing situate under heaven's eye, 
 But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky : 
 The bea-ts, the fishes, and the winged fowls. 
 Are their males' subjects, and at their controls: 
 Men. more divine the masters of all these. 
 Lords of the wide world, and wild waf ry seas. 
 Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
 Of more pre-eminence than tish and fowls, 
 Are masters to their fean.ijes, and their lords: 
 Then let your will attend on their accords. 
 
 .4'//'. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. 
 
 Lite. Xot this, but troubles of the marriage bed. 
 
 A Ir. But were you wedded, you would bear some 
 sway. 
 
 Luc. Ere 1 learn love, I'll practise to obey. 
 
 Adr. How if your husband start some other 
 where 1 
 
 Luc. Till he come Iiome again, I would forbear. 
 
 Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she 
 pause; 
 They can be meek, that h-ave no other cause. 
 A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 
 We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; 
 But were we burdcn'd with like weight of pain. 
 As much, or more, we should ourselves complain : 
 So than, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, 
 With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me: 
 But if thou live to see like right bereft, 
 This fool begg'd patience in thee will be lef^. 
 
 Luc. Well, 1 will niJirry one day, but to try; — 
 
 Here comes your m^ui. now is your husband nigh. 
 
 Enter Duomio of Ephesus. 
 
 Adr. Say, is your tardy master mtw at hand? 
 
 Dm. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and 
 that my two ears can witness. 
 
 Air. Say, didst thou speak with him 7 know'st 
 thou his mind ? 
 
 Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: 
 Beshrew liis hand, I scarce could understand it. 
 
 Lie. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel 
 his meaninii ] 
 
 Dm. E. Nay. he .struck so plainly, 1 could too 
 well feci his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that 
 1 could scarce understand them.^ 
 
 A Ir. But say, I prythee, is he coming home ? 
 It seems, he hath great cire to please his wife. 
 
 Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn- 
 mad. 
 
 Adr. Horn-mad, thou villan 7 
 
 Dru. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ; but, sure, he's 
 stark mad : 
 When I desired him to come home to dinner, 
 He ask d me for a thousand marks in gold : 
 Tw diuucr-tiinc. quoth 1 ; Mi/ sold, quoth he : 
 Your meat djdkhurn,q\\oUi\'; Mii ^oM. quoth he: 
 Witt you rufiie }ifn,tf: ;.' quoth I; Mt/ ^old, qnath he: 
 Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain:^ 
 
 f Ovor-reached. s {, c. Scarce stand under them 
 
 The pi^, quoth I, is burn'd,- Mij gold, quoth he : 
 l^L/ mistress, sir. quotli I ; Huhi^ up ihij mistreas; 
 I kntnc not ihy mistress; out on thy tnistress.' 
 
 Luc. Quoth who? 
 
 Dro. E. Quoth my master: 
 [know, quoth he, mi house, no ivife, no mistressg - 
 So. that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
 I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders; 
 For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 
 
 Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him 
 home. 
 
 Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home'? 
 For God's sake, sencf some otlier messenger. 
 
 Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. 
 
 Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other 
 beating': 
 Between you { shall have a holy head. 
 
 Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy master 
 home. 
 
 Dro. E. Am I so niund with you, as you with me, 
 That like a football you do .spurn me thus? 
 You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: 
 If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Luc. Fye. how impatience low'reth in your face. 
 
 Adr. His company must do his minions grace, 
 Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 
 Hath homely age the alluring beauty took 
 From my poor "cheek? then he hath wasted it: 
 Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? 
 If voluble and sharp di.scourse be marr'd, 
 Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. 
 Do their gay vestments his attections bait? 
 That's not my fiiult, he's master of my state: 
 What ruins are in me. that can be found 
 By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground 
 f)f my defeatures :^ My decayed iair> 
 A sunny look of his would soon repair; 
 But. too unruly deer, he breaks the pale. 
 And feeds from home; poor I am but iiis stale.' 
 
 Luc. Self-arming jealousy !— fye. beat it hence. 
 
 Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dis- 
 pense, 
 I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, 
 Or else, what lets^ It but he would be here 7 
 Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain ; — 
 Would that alone. alone he would detain. 
 So he would keen fair quarter with his bed! 
 I see. the jewel, best enamelled, 
 Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, 
 Tliat others touch, yet often touching will 
 Wear gold : and so no man, that hath a name. 
 But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
 Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, 
 Fil weep what's lett away, and weeping die. 
 
 Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! 
 
 [Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE U.— The same. 
 Enter ANTiPiioLrs of Syracuse. 
 
 Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid up 
 Safe at the Centaur; and the heediul slave 
 Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out. 
 By computation, and mine host's report, 
 I couLd not speak with Dromio, since at first 
 I sent Inm from the mart : See, here he comes. 
 
 Enter DiioMio of Syracuse. 
 How now, sir? is your merry humor alter'd? 
 As you love strokes, so jest with me again. 
 You know no Centaur? you rcceivd no gold ? 
 Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? 
 My bouse was at the Phcenix ? Wast thou mad, 
 That thus so madly thou didst answer me? 
 
 9 Altrrjition of features. i Fhir, for ftiiruose. 
 
 3 St-a-IkiUij-horse. • Iliadf rs. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 255 
 
 Dro. ? What aiiswor, sir ^ wiieii spake I such a 
 
 word I 
 Ant. S. Kven now, even here, not half an hour 
 
 since. 
 Vro S. I did not see you since you sent me 
 hence. 
 Home to the Centaur, with the gold ynu gave me. 
 
 Ant. .S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold s receipt; 
 And told'.^t nie of a mistress, and a dirmer; 
 For which. I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. 
 
 Urn. H. I am, glad to see you in this merry vein : 
 What means this jest! 1 pray you, master, tell 
 me. 
 
 Ant. S". Vca, dost thou jeer, and Ilout me in the 
 teeth ! 
 Think'st thou, I jesti Hold, take thou that, and 
 that. \Beuting linn. 
 
 Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake; now your jest 
 is earnest: 
 Upon what bargain do you give it me ? 
 
 Ant. S. IJecause that I faniiliarly sometimes 
 Do use you fur my fool, and chat with y ou. 
 Your sauciness will jest upon my love. 
 And make a connnon of my serious liours. 
 When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, 
 But creeji in crannies, when he hiiles his beams. 
 If you will jest with me, know my asp<5ct,* 
 And lashion your demeanor to my looks, 
 Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 
 
 Bro. &'. Sconce, call you it! so you would leave 
 battering, I had rather have it a head : an you use 
 these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, 
 and insconce' it too ; or else I shall seek my wit in 
 my shoulders. liut, I ])ray, sir, why am 1 beaten ! 
 
 Ant. S. Liost thou not know ! 
 
 Vro. ^. Nothing, sir; but that I am beaten. 
 
 Ant. S. Shall I tell you why ! 
 
 Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore ; for, they say, 
 every why li'ath a wherefore. 
 
 Ant. iS. Why. first; — for llouting me; and then, 
 wherelbre,^ 
 For urging it the second time to me. 
 
 Dro. S. Was there ever any man tlius beaten out 
 of season ] 
 When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither 
 
 rhyme nor reason ! — 
 Well, sir, 1 Ihank ynu. 
 
 Ant. S. fliank me, sir! for what? 
 
 Dru. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you 
 gave me for nothing. 
 
 Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give ynu 
 nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinner- 
 time 1 
 
 Vro. S. No, sir; I think, the meat wants that I 
 have. 
 
 Ant. S. In good time, sir, what's that? 
 
 Dro. S. Basling. 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. 
 
 Dro. S. If it be, sir, 1 pray you eat none of it. 
 
 Ant. S. "i'our reason ] 
 
 Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase 
 me another dry basting. 
 
 Ant. S. Weil, sir, learn to jest in good time ; 
 There's a time for all thing's. 
 
 Dro. S. I durst have denied tliat, before you were 
 so choleric. 
 
 Ant. S. By what rule, sir 1 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the 
 plain bald pate of father Time himselt. 
 
 Ant. S. Lets hear it. 
 
 Dro. S. Tlieres no time for a man to recover his 
 Iiair, that grows bald by nature. 
 
 Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery? 
 
 Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and 
 recover the lost hair of another man. 
 
 Ant. S. Why is time such a niggard of hair, be- 
 ing, as it is, so plentiful an excreinenl ! 
 
 Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows 
 on beasts: and what he hath scanted men in hair, 
 he hath given them in wiL 
 
 Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more 
 hair than wit. 
 
 Dro. &'. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit 
 to lose his hair. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men 
 plain dealers without wit. 
 
 Bro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; Yet 
 he loseth it in a kind of jollity. 
 
 A?it. S. For what reason ? 
 
 • Study my countenance, t A sconce was a fortification. 
 
 Dro. S. For two ; and sound ones too. 
 
 Ant. S. Nay, nut sound, I pray you. 
 
 Dro. S. Sure ones then. 
 
 Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 
 
 Dro. i>. Certain ones then. 
 
 Ant. S. Name them. 
 
 Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he 
 spends in tiring ; the other, that at dinner they 
 siiould not drop in his porridge. 
 
 Ant. .S. Vou would all this time have proved, 
 there is no time for all things. 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to 
 recover hair ios't by nature. 
 
 Ant. .S'. But your reason was not substantial, 
 why there is no time to recover. 
 
 Dro. S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald, 
 and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald 
 t'ollowers. 
 
 Ant. a. I knew it would be a bald conclusfon : 
 But soft! who wafts*! ^g yonder! 
 
 Enter AoniASi and Luciaxa. 
 
 Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown; 
 Some other mistress liath thy sweet aspects; 
 I :iin not Adriana, nor thy wile. 
 The time was once, when thou unused wouldst 
 
 vow 
 That never words were music to thine ear, 
 That never objects pleasing in thine eye. 
 That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, 
 Tliat never meat sweet-savor'd in thy taste. 
 Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee, 
 [low comes it now, my husband, oh, liow comes it 
 That thou art then estranged from thyself! 
 Thyself 1 call it, being strange to me, 
 Tliat, undivldahli', incorporate, 
 Am better than thy dear self s better part. 
 Ah, do not tear away thyself from me; 
 For know, my love, as easy inayst thou fall 
 A drop of water in the breaking gulf. 
 And take nniningled thence that drop again, 
 Without addition, or diminishing. 
 As lake from me thyself, and not me too. 
 How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 
 Sliouhlst thou but hear I were licentious ! 
 And that this body, con.secrate to thee, 
 By rullian lust should be contaminate! 
 Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me, 
 .\nd hurl the name of husband in my face, 
 And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow^ 
 .Viid from my false hand cut the wedding ring, 
 And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ? 
 I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do it. 
 I am possess'd with an adulterate blot ; 
 My blood is mingled with the crime of lust : 
 For, if we two be one, and thou play false, 
 I do digest the poison of thy Hesh, 
 Being strumfieted by thy contagion. 
 Keep tiien fair league and truce with thy true bed, 
 1 live dis-stain'd, thou undishonored. 
 
 An!. S. I'lead you to me, fair dame ? I know 
 you not: 
 In Epliesus 1 am but two hours old. 
 As strange unto your town, as to your talk ; 
 Who, every worc{ by all my wit being scann'd, 
 Want wit in all one word to understand. 
 
 f.uc. Fye, brother! how the world is changed 
 with you : 
 When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 
 She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. 
 
 Ant. S. By Dromio? 
 
 Bro. S. By me ? 
 
 Adr. By thee : and this thou didst leturn from 
 him, — 
 That he did bullet thee, and in his blows 
 Denied my house for his, me for his wife. 
 
 -int. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle- 
 woman? 
 What is the force and drift of your eompSct? 
 
 Dro. S. I, sir ? I never saw her till this time. 
 
 Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very 
 words 
 Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. 
 
 Bro. S. I never spake with her in all iny life. 
 
 Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our 
 names, 
 Unless it be by inspiration? 
 
 Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, ' 
 To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, 
 6 Beckons. 
 
256 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ! 
 
 Be it my vvrons. you are tVoni me exempt, 
 
 But wioiiK nolthut wrong with a more contempt. 
 
 Come, 1 will fasten on this sleeve of thine: 
 
 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine; 
 
 Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, 
 
 Makes me with thy strength lo communicate: 
 
 If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, 
 
 Usurping' ivy. briar, or idle' moss; 
 
 Who, all for want of pruning, with intru.von 
 
 Infect thy sap. and live on thy confusion. 
 
 Ant. S. To me slie speaks ; she moves me for her 
 theme ; 
 What, was 1 married to her in my dream 1 
 Or sleep 1 now, and think I hear ail this 1 
 What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? 
 Until I know this sure uncertainty, 
 I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. 
 
 Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for 
 dinner. 
 
 Dm. S. O, for my beads ! I cross me for a sinner. 
 This is the fairy land;— i), spite of spites!— 
 We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites; 
 If we obey them not, this will ensue. 
 They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. 
 
 iiic. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answerst 
 not! 
 Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot! 
 
 Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not 1 1 
 
 Anf. S. I think, thou art, in inind, and so am I. 
 
 Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my 
 shape. 
 
 Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. 
 
 Dro. S. No, I am an ape. 
 
 Luc. If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an a.ss. 
 
 Dro. S. 'Tis true; she rides me, and I long tor 
 grass. 
 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be. 
 But I should know her as well as she knows me. 
 
 Adr. Come, come, no longer wil^I be a fool. 
 To put the finger in the eye and weep. 
 Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to 
 
 scorn. — 
 Come, sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate: — 
 Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day. 
 And shrive' you of a thousand idle pranks: 
 Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, 
 Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. — 
 Co'ine, sister; — Dromio, play the porter well. 
 
 Ant. S. Am 1 in earth, in heaven, or in hell? 
 Sleeping or waking ! mad or well-advised I 
 known unto these, and to myself disguised? 
 I'll say as they say, and pers(5ver so, 
 And in this niist at all advcniures go. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate 1 
 
 Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your 
 pate. 
 
 Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— The same. 
 
 Enter Astipholus nf Ephcsus, DnoMio of 
 Ephesus, AsGKi,o, and Ualthv/.aii. 
 
 Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse 
 us all; 
 My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours: 
 Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop. 
 To .see the making nf her carkanet,' 
 And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 
 But here's a villain, that would face me down 
 He met me on the mart; and that I beat him. 
 And charged him with a thousand marks in gold. 
 And that 1 did deny my wife and house: — 
 Thou drunkard, Ihiiu, what didst thou mean by this? 
 Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but 1 know what 
 I know. 
 That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to 
 
 show; 
 If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave 
 
 were ink. 
 Your own handwritinsr would tell you what I think. 
 Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. 
 Dm. E. Marry, so it doth appear 
 
 By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows 1 bear. 
 1 should kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that 
 
 pass. 
 You would keep from my heels, and beware of an 
 ass. 
 Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar : 'Pray 
 God, our cheer 
 May answer my good will, and your good welcome 
 here. 
 Bal. 1 hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your 
 
 welcome dear. 
 Ant. E. O, signior lialthazar, either at Hesh or fish, 
 A table full of welcomes makes scarce one dainty 
 dish. 
 Bal. Good meat, sir, is common ; that every churl 
 
 affonls. 
 Ant. E. .\nd welcome more common; for that's 
 
 nothing but words. 
 JSal. Small cheer and great vvelcom.e, makes a 
 
 merry feast. 
 Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more spar- 
 ing guest; 
 But though my catess be mean, take them in good 
 
 part; 
 Better cheer may you have, but not with better 
 
 lieart. 
 Gut. soft; my door is lock'd ; Go bid them let us in. 
 ' Unfruitful, barron. 
 e A necklace strung with pearls- "Dishes of meat. 
 
 Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, 
 
 Jen' ! 
 Dro. S. [iVilfiin.] Mome,' malt-horse, capon, 
 
 coxcomb, idiot, patch 1" 
 Either get lliee from the door, or sit down at the 
 
 hatch. 
 Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for 
 
 such store, 
 Whenone is one too many ? Go, get Ihce from the 
 
 door. 
 Dro. E. What' patch is made our porter? My 
 
 master stays in the street. 
 Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, 
 
 lest he catch cold on's feet. 
 Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the 
 
 door. 
 Dro. S. Right, sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll 
 
 tell me wherefore ? 
 Ant. E. Where,f6re, for iny dinner; I have not 
 
 dined to-day. 
 Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come 
 
 again when you may. 
 Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from 
 
 the house 1 owe !* 
 Dro. S. The porter for tliis time, sir, and my 
 
 name is Dromio. 
 Dro. E. O villain, thou hast stolen botli mine 
 
 office and my name ; 
 The one ne'er got nie cri. dit, the other mickle blame. 
 If Ihou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place. 
 Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or 
 
 thy name for an ass. 
 Luce. yWitliin.] What a coils is there? Dromio, 
 
 who are those at the gate? 
 Dro. E. Let thy master in. Luce. 
 Luce. Faith, no; he comes too late; 
 
 And so tell your master. 
 
 Dro. E. () Lord, I must laugh ; — 
 
 Have at you with a proverb: — Shall I set in my 
 
 staB' ? 
 Luce. Have at you with another; that's, — Wheni 
 
 ran you tell ? 
 Dro. S. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, tlioti 
 
 hast answer'd him well. 
 Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let U3 
 
 in, I hope ? 
 Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. 
 Dro. S. .Vnd you said, no. 
 
 Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there was 
 
 blow for blow. 
 Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. 
 I Ilenr your confession. iiBlockbead. 
 
 3 Fool. * I own, am owner of. 
 
 ^Bustle, tumult. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 257 
 
 Ltice, Can you tell for whose sake 1 
 
 Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. 
 Luce. Let hini knock till it ache. 
 
 Aut. E. You'll cry for this", minion, if I beat the 
 
 door down. 
 Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks 
 
 in the town I 
 Adr. [IVithin.] Who is that at the door, that 
 
 keeps all this noise ? 
 Dro. S. Hy my troth, your town is troubled witJi 
 
 unruly boys. 
 Ani. E. Are you there, wife? you might have 
 
 come before. 
 Adr, Your wile, sir knave ! go, get you from 
 
 the door. 
 Dro- E. it" \ ou went in pain, master, this knave 
 
 would go sore. 
 Ang, Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; 
 
 we would lam have either. 
 Bal. In debating which was beat, we shall part* 
 
 witii neither. 
 Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid 
 
 them welcome hither. 
 Aut. E. There is something in the wind, that we 
 
 cannot get in. 
 Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your gar- 
 ments were thin. 
 Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in 
 
 tlie (Old: 
 It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought 
 and si»ld. 
 Attt. E. i}oy fctcli me something, I'll break ope 
 
 the gate. 
 Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break 
 
 your knave's pate. 
 Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir : 
 and words a're but wind ; 
 Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not 
 behind. 
 Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking: Out 
 
 upon thee, hind ! 
 Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee! I pray 
 
 thee, let me in. 
 Dro. S. Ay, when (owls have no feathers, and 
 
 tish have no fin. 
 Ant. E. Well, I'll break in; Go, borrow me a 
 
 crow. 
 Dro. E. A crow without a feather; master, mean 
 you so \ 
 For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a 
 
 feather : 
 If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow 
 together. 
 Ant. E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow. 
 Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so; 
 Herein you war against your reputation. 
 And draw withni tlie compass ol" suspect 
 The unviolatcd honor of your wife. 
 Once, this, — Your long experience of Iier wisdom. 
 H**r sober virtue, years, and modesty, 
 Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ; 
 And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse 
 Why at this time the doors are made against you. 
 He ruled by me; depart m patience. 
 And let us to the Tiger all lo dinner: 
 And, about evening, come yourself alone, 
 To know the reason of this strange restraint. 
 If by strong hand you otfer to break in, 
 Now in the stirring passage of the day, 
 A vulgar comment will be made on it; 
 And that supposed by the common rout 
 Against your yet ungalled estimation, 
 That may with foul intrusion enter in, 
 And dwfll upon your grave when you are dead: 
 FoT slander lives upon succession;" 
 For ever hous'd, wliere it once gets possession. 
 
 Ant. E. You haveprevaild; 1 will depart in quiet, 
 And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. 
 I know a wench of excellent discourse, — 
 Pretty and witty ; wild, and, yet too, gentle;— 
 There will we dine: this woman tliat I mean, 
 My wife (but. 1 protest, without desert) 
 Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal; 
 To her will we to dinner. — Get you home, 
 And fetch the chain ; by ihis,^ I know, 'lis made: 
 Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine; 
 For there's the house: that chain will I bestow 
 (Be it for nothing but to spite my wife) 
 
 6 Take part. 
 
 ^ t. €. Made faft. 
 17 
 
 e By this time. 
 
 Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste: 
 Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 
 I'il knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me. 
 
 Aug. Ill meet you at that place, some hour hence. 
 
 Ant. E. Do so ; This jest shall cost me some 
 expense. lExeujit, 
 
 SCENE U.-Thesame. 
 Enter Luciana, and Antipholus of Syracuse. 
 
 Luc And may it be that you have quile forgot 
 
 A husband s oltice \ Shall, Antipliolus, hate. 
 Even in the spring of love, thy love-.-^prnigs* rot? 
 
 Sliall love, HI building, grow so ruin.ite ? 
 If you did wed my sister for her weaUh, 
 
 '1 hen, for her wealths sake, use her with more 
 kmdness: 
 Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; 
 
 Mufileyuur false lovt- with some show of blindness: 
 Let not my s;ster read it in jour eye; 
 
 Be not thy tongue thy own shame s orator; 
 Look swet't, speak fair, become di-sloyalty ; 
 
 Apparel vice like virtue s harbinprer : 
 Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; 
 
 Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ; 
 Be secret-lalse : Whut need she he actiuainted ? 
 
 What simple thief brags of his own attaint? 
 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed. 
 
 And let her read it with thy looks at lioard: 
 Shame hath a bastard fame, well miinagcd : 
 
 Hi deeds are doubled with an evil word. 
 Alas, poor women! make us but believe, 
 
 Being compact of credit, that you love us; 
 Thougii others have the arm, show us the sleeve. 
 
 We m your motion turn, and you may move us; 
 Then, gentle brother, get you in again ; 
 
 Comtort my sister, clieer her, call her wife : 
 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain,' 
 
 When the sweet breath o'( liattery conquers strife. 
 
 Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, 
 1 know not, 
 
 Nor by wlial wonder you do hit on mine,) 
 Less, in your knowledge, and jour grace, you 
 show not. 
 
 Than ourearth'swonder; more than earth divine. 
 Teach me, dear creature, how to tJiink and speak ; 
 
 Lay open to my earthly gross conceit, 
 Smother'd in errors, feebie, shallow, weak. 
 
 The folded meaning of your words" deceit. 
 Against my souls pure truth why labor yuu, 
 
 To make it wander m an unknown lield \ 
 Are you a god \ would you create me new? 
 
 Transform me, then, and to your power Til yield, 
 But if that I am I, then well 1 know, 
 
 Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, 
 Nor to her bed no homage du I owe 
 
 Far more, far more, to you do 1 decline. 
 (), train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, 
 
 To drown me in thy sister's llood of leiirs; 
 Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote : 
 
 Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, 
 And as a bed 1 il take thee, and there he; 
 
 And, in tliat glorious supposition, think 
 He gains by death, that haih sucli means to die: — 
 
 Let love, being Iir;bt, be drowned if she sink ! 
 
 Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so? 
 
 Ant. S. Not mad, but mated ;'*how, 1 do not know. 
 
 Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye. 
 
 Aht. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, 
 being by. 
 
 L'ic. Gaze where you should; and that will clear 
 your sight. 
 
 Ant. a. As good to wink, svyeet love, as look on 
 night. 
 
 Luc. Why call you me love? call my sister so. 
 
 Ant. S. Thy sisters's sister. 
 
 Luc. That's my sister. 
 
 Ani. S. No: 
 
 It IS thyself, mine own self's better part; 
 Mine eyes clear eye. my dear heart's dearer heart; 
 My food, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aim, 
 My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. 
 
 Luc All this my sister is, or else should lie. 
 
 Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for 1 aim thee: 
 Tliee will 1 love, and with thee lead my hie ; 
 Thou hast no husband yet, nor 1 no wife; 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 e Love-springs arc young plants or shoots of love. 
 J Vain, is light of tongue. 
 at. e. Confounded. 
 
ao3 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Luc. O, soft, sir, hold you still: 
 
 1*11 fetch my sister, to get her good-will. 
 
 [Exit Lvc. 
 
 Enter, from ike. Iiouse n/ AN'TiPHdLUs n/'Ephesu^, 
 DiioMio of Syracuse. 
 
 Anf.S. Why, how now, Dromio? where run'st 
 thou so f;isl I 
 
 Dm. .S. Do you know me. sir? am I Dromio? 
 am [ your m^n 1 nni I myself? 
 
 Ant, 8*. Tlicu art Dromio, thou art my man, 
 thou art thyself. 
 
 Dro. S, I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and 
 besides myself. 
 
 Ant. S. What woman's man? and how besides 
 thyself? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir. besides myself, I am due to 
 a wom;in ; one that claims me, one that haunts lue, 
 one lliat will have me. 
 
 Anf. S. ^Vhat claim lay she to thee? 
 
 Dm. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay 
 to your horse; and she would have me as a beast: 
 not that, I being a beast, she would have me ; but 
 tliat she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim 
 to me.* 
 
 Ant. S. What is she? 
 
 Dm. S. A very reverend body ; ay, such a one 
 as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir 
 reverence : 1 have but lean luck in the match, and 
 yet is she a wondrous fit marriage. 
 
 Anf. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's tiie kitchen wench, and 
 all grease; and I know not what use to put her to 
 but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by 
 hor own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow 
 in them, will burn a Poland winter: if she hves 
 till doomsday, she II burn a week longer than the 
 whole world 
 
 Anf. S. What complexion is she of? 
 
 Dro. S. Swart,3 like my shoe, but her face no- 
 thing like so clean kept; For why ? she sweats, a 
 man may go over shoes in the grime of it. 
 
 Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend. 
 
 Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain ; Noahs flood could 
 not do it. 
 
 Anf. S. What's her name? 
 
 Dm. S. Nell, sir:— but her name and three 
 quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will not 
 measure her Irom hip to hip. 
 
 Ant. S. Then sl)e bears some breadth ? 
 
 Dnt. S. No longer from head to foot, than from 
 hip to liip: she is splierical, like a globe; 1 could 
 luid out countries In her. 
 
 Anf. S. Ill what part of her body stands Ireland? 
 
 Dm. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks; 1 found it 
 out by the bogs. 
 
 Anf. S. Where Scotland? 
 
 Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness ; hard, in 
 the palm of the Iiand. 
 
 Anf. S. Wiiere France? 
 
 Drt/. S. In her forehead; arm'd and reverted, 
 making war against her hair. 
 
 Ant. S. Wiicre Fn-land ! 
 
 Dm. S. 1 lookd for t lie chalky clifls, but I could 
 find no wliitcness in them: but I guess it stood in 
 her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France 
 and it. 
 
 Ant. S. Where Spain ? 
 
 Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it, hot in 
 her breath. 
 
 Anf. S. Where America, the Indies? 
 
 Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellish'd 
 with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their 
 rich aspect to the hot breatli of Spain ; who sent 
 whole armadas of carracks* to be ballasl at her nose. 
 
 Ant. S. Where stood liclgta, the Netherlands? 
 
 Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To con- 
 clude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; 
 caird me Dromio ; swore, 1 was assured* lo her ; 
 told me what privy marks I had about me, as the 
 mark of my shoulder, the mo'e in my neck, the 
 great wart on my left arm, that 1, amazed, ran fiorn 
 her as a witch : and, I think, if my breast had not 
 been made of faith, and my heart of steel, slie had 
 transfnrm'd me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn 
 ithe wheel. 8 * 
 
 Anf. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road ; 
 And if the wind blow any way from the shore, 
 I will not harbor in this town to-night. 
 If any bark put lorth, come to the mart. 
 Where I will walk, till thou return to me. 
 If every one know ua. and we know none, 
 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. 
 
 Dm. S. As from a bear a man would run for life. 
 So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here; 
 And therefore 'tis high lime that I were hence. 
 She, that doth call me husband, even my soul 
 Doth lor a wife abhor: but her fair sister, 
 Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, 
 of such enchanting presence and discourse, 
 Hath almost madenie traitor to myself: 
 Hut, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, 
 ril stop mme ears against the mermai I's song. 
 
 Enter Ay GELo. 
 
 An.s;. Master Antipholus. 
 
 Anf. S. Ay, that's my name. 
 
 Ang. I know it well, sir : Lo, here is the chain ; 
 I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine: 
 The chain unfmish'd made me stay thus long. 
 
 Ant. S. What is your will that 1 shall do with 
 this? 
 
 An^. What please yourself, sir ; I have made it 
 for you. 
 
 Ani. S. Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not. 
 
 Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you 
 have : 
 Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; 
 And soon at supper-time, I'll visit you. 
 And then receive my money for the chain. 
 
 Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money, now, 
 For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more. 
 
 Ang. You are a merry man, sir; fare you well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot 
 tell; 
 Hut this I think, there's no man is so vain, 
 That would refuse so fair an otTer'd chain. 
 I see, a man here needs not live by shifts. 
 When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. 
 I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay ; 
 If any ship put out, ilien straight away. [Exit* 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE :.— The same. 
 Enter a Wercliant, A.ngf.io, and cm Officer. 
 
 Mi:r. You know, since rentccnst the sum is due, 
 And since 1 Iiave not much imp6rtune(J you; 
 Nor now i had not, but that 1 am bound 
 To Persia, and want silvers for my voyage : 
 Thercrnre make present satisfaction, 
 Or I'll attach you by this officer. 
 
 Aiif^. K\cn just the sum, tliat I do owe to you, 
 Is srowinsc' to me by Antipholus; 
 And, in tiie instant tliat I met with you, 
 He litiil ot' me a chain ; at five o'clock, 
 I shall receive the money for the same: 
 Pleasctli you walk with me down to his house, 
 I will discharge my bond, and thank you too. 
 
 •Swarthy. 'Accruing. 
 
 Enter Astipholcs «/" Ephesus, o!id Dnoxion/ 
 Kphesus. 
 
 Off. That labor may you save ; see where ho 
 
 comes. 
 Ant E. While I go to the goldsmith's liouse, go 
 thou 
 And buy a rope's end ; that will I bestow 
 Amons my wife and her confederates. 
 For lockiuK me out of mv doors by day. — 
 But soft, I see the goldsm"ith : fiel thee gone ; 
 liuy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. 
 t)ri). E. I buy a thousand pounds a-vear ! I buy 
 a rope! [Exit Dno. E. 
 
 Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to you; 
 1 promised your presence, and the chain ; 
 < Large ahips. " A turn-ppit. * Affianced 
 
Scene II. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERROftS. 
 
 259 
 
 But neither chain, nor iioldsmitii, came to me : 
 Behke, you thuu^jht our love would last too Ions:, 
 If it were chaiird together; and therefore came not. 
 
 Ang. Savmg your merry humor, here's the note. 
 How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat ; 
 The tinenoss of the eold, and chargeful fashion; 
 Which dolh amount to tliree odd ducats more 
 Than I stand debted to this gentleman ; 
 I pray you, see him presently discharged. 
 For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. 
 
 Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present 
 money ; 
 Besides, I have some business in the town : 
 Good siicnior, take tlie stranger to my house. 
 And with you take the cliam, and bid my wife 
 Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof; 
 Perchance I will be there as soon as j'ou. 
 
 Ans:, Then will thou bring the chain to her your- 
 self ! 
 
 Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not 
 time enough. 
 
 Ang. Well, sir, I will: Have you the chain about 
 you ! 
 
 -4/?/. E. An if I have not. sir, T liope you have ; 
 Or else you may return without your money. 
 
 Ang, Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the 
 chain ; 
 Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman. 
 And I, to blame, have held him here too long. 
 
 AnI. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to 
 excuse 
 Your breach of promise to the Porcupine : 
 I should have chid you for not bringing it. 
 But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. 
 
 Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, despatch. 
 
 Ang. You hear, how he importunes mc; the 
 chain — 
 
 Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your 
 money. 
 
 Ang. Come, come, y»u know, I gave it you even 
 now; 
 Either send the chain, or send by me some token. 
 
 Ant. E. Fye! how you run this humor out of 
 breath : 
 Come, Where's the chain ? I pray you let me sec it. 
 
 Mar. My business cannot brook this dalliance; 
 Good sir, say, wher you'll answer me or no; 
 If not. III leave him to the ol^cer. 
 
 Ant. E. I answer you ! What should I answer 
 you 1 
 
 Ang. The money that you owe me for the 
 chain. 
 
 Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain. 
 
 Aug. You know, 1 gave it you half an hour 
 since. 
 
 Ant. E. You gave me none ; you wrong me 
 much to say so. 
 
 Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: 
 Consider, how it stands upon my credit. 
 
 Mer. Well, ofTicer, arrest him at my suit. 
 
 Off. I do; and charge you in the duke's name, 
 to obey me. 
 
 Ang. This touches me in reputation: — 
 Either consent to pay this sum for me. 
 Or I attach you by this officer. 
 
 Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had ! 
 Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him,-otficer; 
 I would not spare my brother in this case. 
 If he should scorn mo so apparently. 
 
 Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit. 
 
 Ant. E. I do obey thee, 'till I give thee bail :— 
 But, sirrah, you shall buy this sptirt as dear 
 As all the metal in your shop will answer. 
 
 Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, 
 To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. 
 
 Enter Dbomio nf Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum, 
 That stays but till her owner comes aboard. 
 And then, sir, bears away; our fraughtage,' sir, 
 I have convey'd aboard ; and 1 have bought 
 The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae. 
 The ship is in her trim; the merry wind 
 Blows fair from land : they stay for nought at all, 
 But for their owner, master, and yourself. 
 
 Ant. E. How now! a madman! Why, thou 
 peevish" sheep, 
 What ship of Epidamnum stays for me ? 
 
 B Freight, cargo. » Silly. 
 
 Dru. S. .\ ship j-ou sent me to. to hire waftage.' 
 
 Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a 
 rone ; 
 And told tliee to what purpose and what end. 
 
 Dm. .S. You sent me, sir, for a ropes end as soon: 
 You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. 
 
 Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure. 
 And teach your ears to listen with more heed. 
 To .\driana, villain, hie thee straight: 
 Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk 
 That's coverd oer with Turkish tapestry. 
 There is a purse of ducats; let her send it ; 
 Tell her, 1 am arrested in the street, 
 .\nd that shall bail me : hie thee, slave ; be gone. 
 On, ollicer, to prison till it come. 
 
 [Exeunt Mer.. .\ng.. Officer, and Ast. E. 
 
 Dro. S. ToAdriana; that is where we dined. 
 Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband: 
 She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. 
 Thither I must, although against my will, 
 For servants must their master's minds fulfil. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE U.— The same. 
 Enter Auriana and Luciana. 
 
 Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? 
 Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye 
 That he did plead in earnest, yea or no ! 
 
 Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad or merrily ? 
 What observations mad'st thou in this case. 
 Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face !« 
 Luc. First, he denied you had in him no right. 
 Adr. He meant, he did me none ; the more my 
 
 spite. 
 Lnc. Then swore lie, that he was a stranger here. 
 Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he 
 
 were. 
 Luc. Then pleaded I for you. 
 Adr. .\nd what said he? 
 
 Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me. 
 Adr. Withwhat nersuasion did he tempt thy love? 
 Luc. With woius that in an honest suit might 
 move. 
 First he did praise my beauty; then, my speech. 
 Adr. Didst speak him fair ! 
 Luc. Have patience, I beseech. 
 
 Adr. I cannot, nor I will not. hold me still ; 
 My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. 
 He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,» 
 Ill-faced, worse-bodied, shapeless everj' where : 
 Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind ; 
 Stigmatical in making,* worse in mind. 
 
 Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one ; 
 No evil lost is waifd when it is gone. 
 Adr. Ah! but I think him better than I say. 
 And yet would herein others' eyes were worse : 
 Far from her nest the lapwing cries away ;* 
 
 My heart prays for him, though my tongue do 
 curse. 
 
 Enter DnoMio of Syracuse 
 
 Dro. S. Here, go ; the desk, the purse ; sweet 
 
 now, make haste. 
 Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath ? 
 Dro. S. By running fast. 
 
 Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio ! is he well ? 
 Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell : 
 A devil in an everlasting garment' hath him. 
 One, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel; 
 A tiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; 
 A wolf, nay worse, a fellow all in buff; 
 A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that coun- 
 termands 
 The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ; 
 .\ hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot 
 
 well ; 
 One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls 
 to hell.' 
 Adr. Why, man, what is the matter ? 
 Dro. S. I tlo not know tlie matter : he is 'rested 
 on the case. 
 
 1 Ciirriage. 
 
 ^An nllusloa to the redness of the northern lights 
 likened to the appearance of armies. a Dry, withered. 
 
 « Mnrked I'y niiture %vith deformity. 
 
 6 Who crieth most where her nest is cot. 
 
 e'Xhe officers in those days were clad in buff, which 19 
 also a cant expression for a man's skin. 
 
 1 Hell was the cant term for prison. 
 
200 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Adr, What, is he arrested 1 tell me, at whose suit. 
 BrO' S. I liuow not at wliose suit tic is arrested, 
 well; 
 But he's ill a suit of buDT, which 'rested him, that 
 
 can ] tell ; 
 Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the mo 
 ney in the desk ! 
 Ailr Go I'elch it, sister. — This I wonder at, 
 
 {Exit LuciASA. 
 That he, unknown to me, should be in delit : 
 Tell me, was he arrested on a band7« 
 
 Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; 
 i chain, a chain ; do you nut hear it ring ? 
 Adr. What, the ciiain ! 
 
 Dro. S. So, no, the bell; 'tis time tliat I were gone. 
 
 It was two ere 1 left him, and now tlie clock strikes 
 
 one. 
 
 Adr. The hours come back ! that did I never hear. 
 
 J)ro. S. yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, 
 
 a'turns back for very fear. 
 Adr. As if time were in debt! how fondly dosl 
 
 thou reason i 
 Dro. S. i'ime is a very bankrupt, and owes more 
 tiian he's worth to season. 
 Nay, he's a thief too: Have j ou not heard men say. 
 That time comes stealing on by night and day ! 
 If he be in debt, and tlieft, and a sergeant in the way, 
 Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a d.iy 1 
 
 Knter Luciana. 
 
 Adr. Go, Dromio; there's tlie money, bear it 
 straight ; 
 And bring thy master home immediately. — 
 Come, sister: I am press'd down with conceit ;» 
 Conceit my comfort, and my injury. [Kjceuiil. 
 
 SCENE in.— Tfie same. 
 
 Killer Antipiiolus of Syracuse. 
 
 Ant. S. There's not a man I meet, but doth sa- 
 lute me 
 A3 if I were their well-acquainted friend ; 
 And every one doth call me by my name. 
 Some tender money to me, some invite me ; 
 Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; 
 Some olfer me commodities to buy : 
 Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop. 
 And show'd me silks that he had bought for me. 
 And, therewithal, took measure of my body. 
 Sure, these are but imaginary wiles, 
 And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. 
 
 Enter DnoMio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro, S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for : 
 What, have you got the picture of old Adam new 
 apparel'd ! 
 
 Ant. S. What gold is this! what Adam dost thou 
 
 mean ! 
 Dro. S. Not that Adam, that kept the paradise, 
 but that Adam, tliat keeps the prison : he that goes 
 in the c:\lf s-skin that was killd for the prodigal; 
 lie that came behind you. sir, like an evil angel, 
 and bid you forsake your liberty. 
 Ant. S. I understand thee not. 
 Dro, S. No! why, 'tis a plain case: he that went 
 like a base-viol, in a case of leather ; the man, sir. 
 that, when gentlemen are tired, gives tliein a fob, 
 and 'rests them ; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed 
 men, and gives them suits of durance ; he that sets 
 up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than 
 morris-pike. 
 
 Ant. .S. What ! thou mean'st an officer : 
 Drn. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of tlie band; he, 
 that brings any man to answer it, tliat breaks his 
 band ; one that thinks a man always going to bed, 
 and says. Gn.l gire you good rent.' 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir,' there rest in your foolery. Is 
 there any ship puts forth to-night] may we be 
 gonel 
 
 Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour 
 since, tluit the" bark Expedition put forth to-night, 
 and tlieii were you biiulered by the sergeant, to 
 tarry for tlie hoy. Delay : Here are the angels, that 
 you sent for, to deliver you. 
 
 Ant. S. The fellow isdistract, and so am I ; 
 And iierc we wander in illusions ; 
 Some blessed power deliver us from hence ! 
 s i ^ Bond. '^ Fanciful conception. 
 
 Enter a Courtezan. 
 
 Cour. Well met, well met, master Antipholus. 
 I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now; 
 Id that the chain, you promised me to-day ! 
 
 ^•1/^/. S. Satan, avoid I I charge tliee, tempt me 
 not! 
 
 Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan 1 
 
 Ant. S. It is the devil. 
 
 Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam; 
 and here she comes in the habit of a light wencli ; 
 and thereof comes, that the wenches say, Ood 
 damn nie, that's as much as to say, God ntnlie me 
 a ligM wencli. It is written, they appear to men 
 like angels of light: liglit is an elfect of fie, and 
 lire will burn ; ergu, light wenches will burn ; Come 
 not near her. 
 
 Ccur. Your man and you are marvellous merry, 
 sir. 
 Will you go with me *! We'll mend our dinner here. 
 
 Dro. S. 'Master, if you do expect spoon-meat, 
 bespeak a long spoon. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, Lironiio ? 
 
 Dro. fi. Marry, he must have a long spoon, that 
 must eat with the devil. 
 
 Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me 
 of supping ! 
 Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress: 
 I c6njure thee to leave me. and be gone. 
 
 Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, 
 Or, for my diamond, the chain you promisd; 
 -Vnd I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
 
 Dro. S. Some ilevils ask but the paring of one's 
 nail, 
 A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin. 
 A nut, a cherry-stone : but she, more covetous. 
 Would have a chain. 
 Master, he wise; and if you give it her. 
 The devil will shake her chain, and iright us with it> 
 
 Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain ; 
 I hope, you do not mean to cheat me so. 
 
 Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch ! Come, Dromio, let 
 us go. 
 
 Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock: Mistress, 
 tliat you know. 
 
 [Exeunt Ayr. S. und Duo. S. 
 
 Cour. Now, out of doubt. Antipholus is mad, 
 Else would he never so demean liiinself : 
 A rinir he hath of mine wortii forty ducats. 
 And for the same he promis d me a chain ! 
 Both one, and other, he denies nie now. 
 The reason that I gather he is mad, 
 (Besides this present instance of his rage,) 
 Is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner. 
 Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. 
 Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits, 
 On purpose shut the doors against his way. 
 IMy way is now, to hie home to his house, 
 And tell his wife, that, being a lunatic. 
 He rush'd into my honse, and took perforce 
 My ring away : 'fhis course 1 fittest choose; 
 Kor forty ducats is loo mucli to lose. [Exit 
 
 SCENE IV.— TAf .iflwip. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, and an Officer. 
 
 Ant. E. Fear me not, roan, I will not break away; 
 I'll give thee, e're I leave tlice, so much money 
 To warrant thee, as I am "rested for. 
 My wife is in a wayward mood to-day : 
 And will not lightly trust the messenger, 
 That I should be attacli'd in Ephesns: 
 1 tell you, 'tvvUl sound harshly m her ears. — 
 
 Enter DnoMio of Ephesus, witti a rope's end. 
 
 Here comes my man ; I thinlc, he brings the money 
 How now, sir ! have you tliat I sent you for ! 
 Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay 
 
 them all.' 
 Ant. E. But Where's the money 1 
 Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. 
 Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope? 
 Dro. E. Ill serve you, sir. five liundred at the rate. 
 Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home! 
 Dro. E. To a ropes end, sir ; and to that end am 
 I return'd. 
 .inf. E. .\nd to that end, sir, I will welcome you 
 
 \Beatins Inm, 
 1 Correct them aJl. 
 
SCEXE IV. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 201 
 
 O^. Good sir, be patient. 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, 'tis lor me to be patient; I am in 
 adversity. 
 
 Off- Good now, hold thy tonsue. 
 
 tjro. E. iS'ay, rather persuade him to hold his 
 hands. 
 
 AnI. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain ! 
 
 Dro. E. I wouM 1 were senseless, sir, that 1 
 might not feel your blows. 
 
 Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, 
 and so is an ass. 
 
 Dro. E. I am an ass indeed; you may prove it 
 by my lon< oars. I have served him I'roiii the hour 
 ot' my nativity to this instant, and have notlmi;:: at 
 his hands for my service, but bli>w's : wlien I am 
 cold, he heats me with heating; when I am warm, 
 he cools me with beatiui;: I am waked with it 
 when 1 sleep; raised witli it, when I sit; driven out 
 of doors Willi it, wlien I l;o from home; welcomed 
 home with it, when 1 return : nay, 1 bear it on my 
 shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, 
 when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from 
 door to door. 
 
 Enter Adhiasa, Lcciaxa, and ike Courtezan, 
 with, PiscK, and otkers. 
 
 Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coming 
 
 yonder. 
 
 Dro. E. Mistress, respicfinem, respect your end ; 
 
 or rather tli« prophecy, like the parrot. Beware the 
 
 rope's end. 
 
 AnI. E. Wilt thou still talk ? [Beats him. 
 
 Coitr. How say you now ? is not your husband 
 
 mad ! 
 Adr. His incivility confirms no less. — 
 Good doctor Pnich, you are a conjurer ; 
 Establish him in his true sense a^ain, 
 And I will please you what you will demand. 
 Luc. Alas, howtiery and how sharp he looks ! 
 Cour. Mark, how ho trembles in his ec-stasy ! 
 Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your 
 
 pulse. 
 Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel j'our ear. 
 Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this 
 man, 
 To yield possession to ray holy prayers, 
 And to tliy state of darkness hie thee straight; 
 I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. 
 Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace; I am not 
 
 mad. 
 Adr, O, that thou wort not, poor distressed soul ! 
 Ant. E. You mmion, you, are these your cus- 
 tomers ] 
 Did this companion with a saffron face 
 Revel and feast it at my house to-day. 
 Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut, 
 And I denied to enter in my liouse ? 
 Adr. O, husband, God doth know, you dined at 
 home. 
 Where 'would you had remain'd until this time. 
 Free from these slanders, and this open shame! 
 Ant. E. I dined at home ! Thou, villain, what 
 
 say'st thou ! 
 Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at 
 
 home. 
 Ant. E. \Vere not my doors lockd up, and I 
 
 shut out? 
 Dro. E. Perdy,^ your doors were lock'd, and you 
 
 shut out. 
 Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there 1 
 Dro. E. Sans fable," she herself reviled you there. 
 Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and 
 
 scorn me ? 
 Dro. E. Certc3.« she did ; the kitchen-vestal 
 
 scorn'd you. 
 Ant. E. And did nut I in rage depart from thence? 
 Dro. E. In verity you did; — iijy bones hear 
 witness. 
 That since have felt the vigor of his rage. 
 
 Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries ? 
 Pinch. It is no slmme; the fellow finds his vein, 
 And, yielding to him, humors well his frenzy. 
 Ant. E. Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to 
 
 arrest me. 
 Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem you, 
 By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. 
 
 9 A corruption of the French oath — ^ardif-u, 
 
 * Without a f:i|jle. * Certainly, 
 
 Dro. E. Money by me ? heart and good-will you 
 mi:;ht. 
 
 But, surely, master not a rag of money. j 
 
 Ant. E. Weiit'st not thou to her for a purse of I 
 
 ducats? 
 Adr. He came to mo, and I deliver'd it. 
 Luc. And [ am witness with her. that she did. 
 Dro. E. God and the rope-maker, bear me wit- 
 ness. 
 That I was sent for nothing but a rope ! 
 Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is pos- 
 sess'd ; 
 [ know it by their pale and deadij' looks : 
 They must be bound and laid in some dark room. 
 Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth 
 to-day. 
 And why dost thou deny the bag of gold ? 
 Adr. I did not, gentle* husband, lock thee forth. 
 Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv'd no gold; 
 But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. 
 Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in 
 
 both. 
 .int. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all* 
 And art confederate with a damned pack. 
 To make a loathsome abject scorn ot me : 
 Hut with these nails I'll pluck out these J'ulse eyes, 
 Ihat would behold in me this shamclul sport. 
 
 tPixcH and Ais' Assistants bind AsT. E 
 and Dro. K. 
 Adr. O, bind hnn, bind him, let him not come 
 
 near me. 
 Pinch. More company! — the fiend is strong 
 
 within him. 
 Luc. .\h me, poor man, how pale aiul wan he 
 
 looks! 
 AnI. E. What, will you murder me ? Thou gaoler, 
 thou, 
 I am thy prisoner; wilt tliou suffer them 
 To make a rescue I 
 
 Off. Masters, let him go ; 
 
 He IS my prisoner, and you shall not have him. 
 Pinch- Go, bind this man. for he is Irantic too 
 Adr. What wilt thou do. thou peevish* otficer? 
 Hast thou delight to see a wretched man . 
 Do outrage and displeasure to himself? 
 
 Off. He is my prisoner; if I let him go. 
 The debt he owes, will be required of me, 
 
 Adr. I will discharge thee, ere I go from thee : 
 Rear me forthwith unto his creditor. 
 And knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it. 
 (iood master doctor, see him sale convey 'u 
 Home to my house. — O most unhappy day ! 
 Ant. E. o most unhappy strumpet! 
 Dro. E. Master, 1 am here entered in bond for 
 
 you. 
 Ant. E. Out on thee, villain ! wherefore dost thou 
 
 mad me ! 
 Dro. E. Will you be iKiund for nothing ? be mad, 
 Good master; cry, the devil. — 
 Luc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they 
 
 talk! 
 Adr. Go, bear him hence. — Sister, go you with 
 me. — 
 [Exeunt Pinch and Assistants, luith AxT. E. 
 and Duo. E. 
 Say now, whose suit is he arrested at ? 
 
 Off. One Angelo, a goldsmith ; Do you know 
 
 him ? 
 Adr. I know the man : What is the sum he owes? 
 Off. 'Two hundred ducats. 
 
 A'Ir. Say, how grows it due ? 
 
 Off. Due for a chain your husband had of him. 
 Adr. He did bespeak a chain tor me, but had it 
 
 not. 
 Cour. When as your husband, all in a rage, to-day 
 Came to my house, and took away my ring, 
 (I'he ring 1 saw uiion his finger now,) 
 Straight at"ter, did 1 meet him with a chain. 
 
 Adr. It may be so, but 1 did never see it : — 
 Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is, 
 I long to know the truth hereof at large. 
 
 Enter AriTiPHOi-us of Syracuse, ivilh his rapier 
 drawn, and DnoMio of Syracuse. 
 
 Luc. God. for thy mercy ! they are loose again. 
 Adr. And come with naked swords ; let's call 
 more help. 
 To have them bound again. 
 I Foolish. 
 
262 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Off. Away, they'll kill u-5. 
 
 [Kxfiint Officer, At)U., and Luc. 
 
 Ant. S. 1 sec, these witches arc afraid of swonls. 
 
 J)ro. S. She, that would be your wife, now ran 
 
 from yi)u. 
 Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stulT' 
 from thence; 
 I long, that we were safe and sound aboard. 
 
 Dru. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will 
 surely do us no harm ; you saw, they speak us fair 
 fiive us jjold : methiuks, they are such a gentle 
 nation, that but for the mounlain of mad llesh that 
 claims niair;ai;c of me, I could fmd in my heart 
 to stay here still, and turn witch. 
 
 Ant. E. I will not stay to-uisht for all the town ; 
 Therelorc away, to get our stulf aboard. ^Exeunt* 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE 1.— The same. 
 Enter Merchant and Angf.lo. 
 
 Ang. I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you ; 
 But, 1 protest, he had the chain of me. 
 Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. 
 
 Mer. How is the man estcem'd here in the city ! 
 
 Ang. Of very reverend reputation, sir, 
 Of credit infinite, highly helov'd, 
 Second to none that lives here in the city ; 
 His word mi^ht bear my wealth at any time. 
 
 Mer. Spcali softly: yonder, as I thiiik, he walks. 
 
 Enter Axtipholus, and Dno:Mio of Syracuse. 
 
 Ang. 'Tis so; and that .self chain about his neck, 
 Whicli he forswore, most monstrously, to have. 
 Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. 
 Sisnior Antipholus, I wonder much 
 That you would put me to this shame and trouble ; 
 And not without some scandal to yourself. 
 With circumstance, and oaths, so to deny 
 This chain, which now you wear so openly: 
 Besides the charjie. the shame, imprisonment, 
 You have done wrons to this my honest friend. 
 Who. but for staying on our controversy, 
 Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day : 
 Tliis chain you had of me, can you deny it? 
 
 Ant. S. I think, I had; I never did deny it. 
 
 Aler. Yes, that you did, sir; and forswore it too. 
 
 Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it? 
 
 Mer. Tliese ears of mine, thou knowest, did hear 
 tliee : 
 Fye on thee, wretch ! 'tis pity, that thou liv'st 
 To walk where any honest men resort. 
 
 Ant. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me thus: 
 I'll )irove mine honor, and mine honesty 
 Ajrainst thee presently, if thou dar'st stand, 
 
 Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. 
 
 \T/iey draw. 
 
 Enter Adriasa, Luciana, Courtezan, and otiiers. 
 
 Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake; he is 
 mad ; — 
 Some Ret within hini,« take his sword away: 
 Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. 
 
 Dro. S. Run, master, run ; for God's sake, take a 
 house. 
 This is some priory ;— In, or we are spoil'd. 
 
 [Exeunt .Ast. S. and Duo. S. to tlie Priory. 
 Enter ttie Abbess. 
 
 Ab']. Re quiet, people; Wherefore throng you 
 hither? 
 
 Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence: 
 Let us come in, that we may bind him fast. 
 And bear liirn home for liis recovery. 
 
 Ang. I knew, he was not in his perfect wits. 
 
 Mer. I am sorry now, that 1 did draw on him. 
 
 Ahb. How loui hath this possession held the man? 
 
 A Ir. Tliis week he hath been heavy, sour, sad. 
 And mui'li, much dilTercnt from the man he was ; 
 iuit, till this afternoon, his passion 
 Ne'er brake into extremity of rai^e. 
 
 Abb. Hath he not lost rnuch wealth by wreck at 
 sea ? 
 Buried some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye 
 Stray'd bis atTection in unlawful love? 
 A sin, prevailinf: tnuch in youthful men. 
 Who Rive their eyes the liberty of gazing. 
 Wliich of these sorrows is he suhiect to? 
 
 Adr. To none of these, except it be the last ; 
 Namely, some love, that drew him oI1 from home. 
 
 A'ib. You should for that liave reprehended him. 
 
 Adr Why, so I did. 
 
 Al>h. Ay, but not rough enough. 
 
 «» I. r-. CIOBGi grapple with him. ' Buggago, 
 
 Adr. As roughly, as my modesty would le me. 
 
 Abb. ilaply, m private. 
 
 Adr. And in assemblies too. 
 
 Abb. Ay, but not enough. 
 
 Adr. It was the copy" of our conference : 
 In bed, he slept not for my urging it; 
 .■\t board, he led not for my urging it; 
 ,\lone. It was the snliject of my theme; 
 In company, I often glanced it; 
 Still did 1 tell him it was vjle and bad. 
 
 Abb. And thereof came it, that the man was mad : 
 The venom clamors of a jealous woman 
 Poison mi>re deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
 It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing : 
 And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
 Thou sayst his meat was sauced with thy up- 
 
 braidings : 
 Unquiet meals make ill digestions, 
 'I'hereof the raging lire of fever bred ; 
 And what's a fever but a fit of inadncss? 
 Thou sayst his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls. 
 Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, 
 But moody and dull melancholy; 
 (Kins.nan to grim and comfortless despair;) 
 And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 
 Of pale dibtemperatures. and foes to life ? 
 In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest 
 To be disturbed, would mad or man, or beast; 
 The consequence is then, thy jealous fits 
 Have scared thy husband from the use of wits. 
 
 Lite. She never reprehended him but mildly, 
 When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and 
 
 wildly. — 
 Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not ? 
 
 Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. — 
 Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. 
 
 Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house. 
 
 Adr. Then, let your servants bring my husband 
 forth. 
 
 Abb. Neither ; he took this place for sanctuary, 
 And it shall privilege him from your hands, 
 Till I have brought him to his wits again, 
 Or lose my labor in essaying it. 
 
 Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, 
 Diet his sickness, for it is my oHice, 
 And will have no attorney hut myself; 
 And therefore let me have him home with me. 
 
 Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir. 
 Till I have used the approved means I have. 
 With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers. 
 To make of him a formal man again :» 
 It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, 
 A charitable duty of my order; 
 Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. 
 
 Adr. 1 will not hence, and leave my husband 
 here ; 
 .\nd ill it doth beseem your holiness, 
 To separate the husband and the wife. 
 
 Abb. Be quiet, and depart, thou shalt not have 
 iiim. [Exit .\bbess 
 
 Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity. 
 
 Adr. Come, go ; 1 will fall prostrate at his feet, 
 And never rise until my tears and prayers 
 Have won his grace to come in person hither. 
 And take perforce my husband from the abbess. 
 
 Mer. By this. 1 think, the dial points at five : 
 .\non, 1 am sure, the duke liimself in person 
 Comes this way to the melancholy vale; 
 The place of death and sorry' execution, 
 Behind the ditches of the abbey here. 
 
 Ang. Upon what cause ! 
 
 Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan mercnant, 
 Who put unluckily into this' bay 
 
 » Thu theme. 
 
 » i. c. To briijg him back to his senses. 
 
 iSail. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 263 
 
 Against the laws and statutes of this town, 
 Bt^headed pubhcly for his offence. 
 
 A'iS- See, where they come ; we will behold his 
 death. 
 
 Luc. Kneel to the dake, before he pass the abbey. 
 
 Enter Dukk aiUmUd; ]E.r.^os bare-headed ,- with 
 ike Headsman and otker OlHcers. 
 
 Duke. Yet once aj^aia proclaim it publicly, 
 If any friend will pay the sum for hini, 
 He shall not die, so much we tender him. 
 
 .4ci/\ Justice, most saiTcd duki% against the abbess! 
 
 Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady ; 
 It cannot be, that she hath done thee wrong. 
 
 Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my 
 husbind, — 
 Whom I made lord of me and all I had, 
 At your important** letters,— this ill day 
 A most outra;;eous fit of madness took Mm ; 
 That desperately he hurried Ihroui^h the street, 
 (With hnn his bondman, all as mad as he,j 
 Doing displeasure to the citizens 
 By rushing in their houses, bearing thenco 
 Rings, jewels, any tljnig his rage did like. 
 Once did I get hun bound, and sent iiim home, 
 Whilst to take ordei^ for the wrongs I went. 
 That here and there his fury had committed. 
 Anon, 1 wot* not by what .-^trmig escape, 
 He broke from those that had Ihe guard of liim; 
 And, with his mad attendant and Imnself, 
 Kach one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, 
 Met us again, and, madly bent on us, 
 Cliased us away ; till raising of more aid. 
 We came agaui to bind them: then they tied 
 Into this abbey, whither we pursued them; 
 And here the abbess shuts tiie gates on us. 
 And will not surfer us to fetcli liini out, 
 Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence; 
 Therefore, most gracious duke, with th}' co;nm;ind, 
 Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help. 
 
 Duke. Long since, thy husband serv'd me in my 
 wars ; 
 And I to thee engaged a prince's word. 
 When thou didst make him master of thy bed, 
 To do him all the grace and good I could. — 
 Go some of you, knock ai the abbey-gate, 
 And bid tlie lady ab'.)ess come to me; 
 1 will dclermme this before 1 stir. 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. mistress, mistress, shift, and save yourself! 
 My master and his man are both broke loose. 
 Beaten the maids a-row,^ and bound the doctor, 
 Whose beard they have singed off with brands of 
 
 fire; 
 And ever as it blazed, they threw on him 
 Great pads of puddled mire to quench the hair: 
 My master preaches patience to him, while 
 His man with scissors nicks him like a fool: 
 And, sure, unless you send some present help, 
 Between them they will kill the conjurer. 
 
 Adr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here; 
 And that is false thou dost report to us. 
 
 herv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true ; 
 1 have not breathM almost smce I did see it. 
 He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, 
 To scorch your face, and to dlstigure you. 
 
 [Cry witfiin. 
 Hark, hark, I hear him. mistress; fly, begone. 
 
 Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing: Guard 
 with halberts. 
 
 Adr. Ah me, it is my husband ! Witness you. 
 That he is borne about invisible: 
 Kven now we hous'd hnn in llic abbey here ; 
 And now he's there, past thought of human reason. 
 
 £/i/6T Antipholus and DiioMio ci/" Kphesus. 
 
 Anf. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant 
 me justice ! 
 Even for the service that long since I did thee, 
 When 1 bestrid thee, in the wars, and look 
 Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood 
 That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. 
 
 JEge. Unless .he fear of death dotli make me dote, 
 I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio. 
 
 Ant.E. Justice, sweet prince, against that wo- 
 man there. 
 She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife; 
 That hath abused and dishonor'd me 
 
 3 Importunate. ai. e. To take measures. «Know. 
 f>i. e. Successively, one after auother. 
 
 Rven in the strength and lieight of injury ! 
 
 Beyond imagination is the wrong, 
 
 That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. 
 
 Duke. Discover how, and tbou shalt tind me just 
 
 A7it. E. This day, great duke, she sliut the doors 
 upon me. 
 While she witli harlots^ feasted in my house. 
 
 Duke. A grievous fault: Saj', woman, didst thou 
 so? 
 
 Adr. No, ray good lord: — myself, he, and my 
 sister. 
 To-day did dine together: so befall my stul, 
 As this is false, he burdens me withal ! 
 
 Luc. NeV-r may I look on day, nor sleep on night. 
 But she tells to your highness simple truth ! 
 
 Ang. O perjured woman! They are both forsworn. 
 In tins the madman justly chargcth them. 
 
 Ant. K. My liege, i am advised what I say; 
 Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine. 
 Nor iieady-rash, provok'd with raging ire, 
 Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad. 
 This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner : 
 That goldsmith there, were he not packd with her, 
 Could witness it; for he was with me then ; 
 WIio parted with me to go fetch a chain, 
 Promisuig to bring it to the Porcupine, 
 Wlieie Balthazar and I did dine together. 
 Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, 
 I wont to seek him : in the slreet I met him ;• 
 And in his company, that gentleman ; 
 There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down, 
 Tliat I this day of him receiv'd the ciiain. 
 Which, God he knows, I saw not: for tt;e which, 
 He did arrest me with an otlicer. 
 1 did obey ; and sent my peasant home 
 For certain ducats : he with none returned. 
 Then fairly 1 bespoke the otficcr. 
 To ii;o in person with me to my house. 
 IJy the way we met 
 My wife, her sister, and a rabble more 
 of vile conIe<lerates: along with ttiein 
 They brought one Pmch ; a hungry, lean-faced 
 
 villain, 
 A mere anatomy, a mountebank, _ 
 A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller ; 
 A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 
 A living dead man: this pernicious slave. 
 Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 
 And gazing in my eyes, feeling my pulse. 
 And with no face, as 'twere, out-facing me. 
 Cries out, I was possess'd : then altogether 
 They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence; 
 And in a dark and dankish vault at home 
 There lefi me and my man, both bound together; 
 Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, 
 I gam'd my freedom, and immediately 
 Ran hither to your grace; whom 1 beseecli 
 To give me ample satisfaction 
 For these deep sliames and great indignities. 
 
 An'^. My lord, in truth, thus far, 1 witness with 
 hnn; 
 That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. 
 
 Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or, no? 
 
 Aug. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, 
 These people saw the chain about his neck. 
 
 M':r. Besides I will t>e sworn, these ears of mine 
 "Heard you confess you had the chain of him, 
 Alter you hrst forswore it on the mart. 
 And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you ; 
 And then you tied into this abbey here, 
 From whence, 1 think, you are come by miracle. 
 
 Ant. K. 1 never came within these abbey wails, 
 Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me : 
 I never saw the chain, so help me heaven ! 
 And this IS false you burden me withal. 
 
 Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is tins'? 
 I think, you all have drank of Circe's cup. 
 If here you hous'd iiim. here he would have been; 
 If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly: — 
 Vou say he dined at home; the goldsmith here 
 Denies that saying : — Sirrah, what say you \ 
 
 Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the Por- 
 cupine, 
 
 Cour. He did ; and from my finger snatch'd that 
 rin?. 
 
 Ant. E. Tis true, my hege, this ring I had of her. 
 
 Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ! 
 
 Cour. As sure, my liege, as 1 do see,your grace. 
 
 6 Harlot was a term of reproach applied to cheats among 
 men, as well as to wantons among women. 
 
'264 
 
 COMEDY OF ERROKS. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Duke. Why, this is strange :— Go call the abbess 
 hither; 
 I think you are all mated, or stark mad. 
 
 \Exit an Attendant. 
 
 -•Ege. Most mighty duke, vouclisale me speak a 
 word ; 
 Haply I sec a friend will save my life, 
 And pay tlie sum that may deliver me. 
 
 Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt. 
 
 ^ge. Is not your name, sir, called Antipholus! 
 And is not that your bondman Dromio 1 
 
 ]>ro. E. Wilhin tliis hour I was his bondman, sir. 
 But he, 1 tliauk him, gnaw'd in two my cords; 
 Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. 
 
 jEge. I am sure, you both of you remember me. 
 
 Dm. E. (lurselves we do remcmlier, sir, by you ; 
 For lately we were bound, as you are now. 
 You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir 7 
 
 jEge. Why look you strange on nie 1 you know 
 me well. 
 
 Ant. E. 1 never saw you in my life, till now. 
 
 yEge. Oh ! grief hath changed me since you saw 
 me last ; 
 And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand 
 Have written strange defeatures' in my face : 
 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ! 
 
 Ant. E. Neither. 
 
 JEgc. Dromio, nor thou : 
 
 Dr». E. No, trust me, sir, nor 1. 
 
 ^••c. I am sure thou dost. 
 
 Dm. E- Ay, sir? but I am sure 1 do not; and 
 whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to 
 believe him. 
 
 ^^gc. Not know ray voice! O, time's extremity ! 
 Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue, 
 In seven short years, that here my only son 
 Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares'! 
 Though now this grained* face of mine be hid 
 In sap-consumina; winters drizzled snow. 
 And all the conduits of my blood froze up; 
 Vet hath my night of life some memory. 
 My wastimr lamp some fading glimmer left, 
 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 
 All these old witnesses (I cannot err) 
 Tell me, thou artmy sou Antipholus. 
 
 Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. 
 
 jEije. But seven years since, m Syracusa, boy, 
 Tliou know' St we parted : but, perhaps, my son, 
 Thou sham' St to acknowledge me in my misery. 
 
 Aat. E. The duke, and all that know me in the 
 city, 
 Can witness with me that it is not so ; 
 I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. 
 
 Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years 
 Have I been patron to Antipholus, 
 During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa: 
 I see thy age and dangers make thee dole. 
 
 Enter ttie Abbess, xvltii ANTiriion-s Syracusan, 
 and Dromio Syracusan. 
 
 Abh. Most mighty duke, behold a man much 
 wrong'd. [Ail gather to see him. 
 
 Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive 
 me. 
 
 Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other ; 
 And so of these: Which is the natural man. 
 And which the spirit? Who deciphers them ! 
 
 Dru. S. I, sir, am Dromio; command him away. 
 
 Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio; pray let me stay. 
 
 Ant. S. jEgeon, art thou not 1 or else his ghost ^ 
 
 Dro. t<. O, my old master, who hath bound him 
 here ? 
 
 Ahb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds. 
 And gain a husband by his liberty: — 
 Speak, old .T.'^eon, if thou be'st the man 
 That hadst a wife once called A^milia, 
 That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: 
 
 0. if thou best the same .Tigeon, speak. 
 And speak unto the same ifimilia ! 
 
 .'Ege. If I dream not, thou art .Emiha; 
 If thou art slie, tell me where is that son 
 That tloatcd with thee on the fatal raft 1 
 
 Abb. By men oi' Kpidamnum, he and I, 
 And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; 
 But, by and hy. rude fishermen of Corinth 
 By force took Dromio and my son from them, 
 And me they left with those of Kpidamnum : 
 What then became of them I cannot tell; 
 
 1, to tins fortune that you see me in. 
 
 ' Alteration of features. • Furrowed, lined. 
 
 Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right;' 
 These two Antipholus's, these two so like, 
 And these two Dromios. one in semblance, — 
 Besides her urging of her wreck at sea, — 
 These are the parents to these children, 
 Which accidentally are met together. 
 Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first. 
 
 Aiit. S. No, sir, not I ; I came from Syracuse. 
 
 Duke. Stay, stand apart ; 1 know not which is 
 which. 
 
 Ant. E. I came from Corinth, mj' most gracious 
 lord. 
 
 Dro. E. .\nd 1 with him. 
 
 Ant E. Brought to this town vvilh that most 
 famous warrior 
 Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
 
 Adr. Which of you two did dme with me to- 
 day? 
 
 Ant. S. 1, gentle mistress. 
 
 Adr. And are not you my husband 1 
 
 Ant. E. No, I say nay to that. 
 
 Ant. S And so do I, yit did she call me so; 
 And tliis fair gentlewoman, lier sister here. 
 Did call me brother :— What I told you then, 
 I hope. I shall liave leisure to make good; 
 If this be not a dream, I see, and hear. 
 
 Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. 
 
 Ant. S. 1 think it be, sir; 1 deny it not. 
 
 Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain, arrested me. 
 
 Ang. I think'I did, sir; I deny it not. 
 
 Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, 
 By Dromio ; but I think'he brought it not. 
 
 Dro. E. No, none by me. 
 
 Ant. a. This purse of ducats I received from you, 
 And Dromio my man did bring them me: 
 I see, we still did meet each other's man, 
 And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, 
 And thereupon these Errors are arose. 
 
 Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. 
 
 Duke. It shall not need, thy father hath his life. 
 
 Cour. Sir. I must have that diamond from you. 
 
 Ant. E. There, take it ; and much thanks for my 
 good cileer. 
 
 Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains 
 To go with us into the abbey here. 
 And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes: 
 And all that are' assembled in this place. 
 That by this sympathized one day s error 
 Have suffer d wrong, go, keep us company. 
 And we shall make full satisfaction.— 
 Twenty-five years have 1 but gone in travail 
 Of you, my sons; nor, till this present hour, 
 My heavy burdens are delivered: — 
 The duke, my husband, and my children both, 
 And you the calendars of their nativity, 
 (io to" a gossip's feast, and go with me; 
 After so long grie^ such nativity. 
 
 Duke. With all my heart. Til sossip at this feast. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, iEGi-,o>-, Courtezan, 
 
 Merchant, Asbk^o, and Attendants. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from 
 ship-hoard? 
 
 Ant. E. Dromio. what stuff of mine hast thou 
 embark 'd? 
 
 Dro. S. Your goods that lay at host, sir, m the 
 Centaur. 
 
 AnI.S. He speaks to me; I am your master, 
 Dromio: 
 Come, go with us : we'll look to that anon : 
 Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him. 
 
 [Exeunt Antipholus S. and E., Ann. 
 and Li'c. 
 
 Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's 
 house. 
 That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner; 
 She now shall he my sister, not my wife. 
 
 Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not my 
 brother : 
 I see by you, 1 am a sweet-fiiced youth. 
 Will you walk in to see their gossiping ? 
 
 Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. 
 
 Dro. K. That's a question : how shall we try it ! 
 
 Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior: tdl 
 then, lead thou flrsl. 
 
 i)m. A'. Nay, then thus : 
 We came into the world, like brother and brother. 
 And now lets go hand in hand, not one before 
 another. [Exeunt. 
 
 » The morning story is what ^geon U'Us tlie Duke In 
 the first scene of this play. 
 
MACBETH. 
 
 PERSONS REPRKSENTED. 
 
 Dlxcas, King of Scotland. 
 Malcolm, 1 . ■ <; 
 
 Macbeth, 
 BAxaL'o, 
 Macucff, 
 Lkxox, 
 
 /loSSE, 
 
 Mevtktu, 
 Angus, 
 Cathnf.ss, J 
 1''leance, Sva to BASaro, 
 
 SiwAHu, Earl of Northamber!and, General of the 
 English Forces. 
 
 \ Generals of the King's Army. 
 
 Noblemen of Scotland. 
 
 Young SiWAiin, his Sim. 
 
 SF.rruN', an Officer attending on Macbeth. 
 
 .So;; la .MacdiilK 
 
 An Kiiiilisli Doctor. A Scotch Doctor. 
 
 A Soldier. A Purler. An old Man. 
 
 Ladt Macuf.th 
 
 Lady Maciicff. 
 
 Gentlewoman nttcndiog oti Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Hecate, and l/tree IVitches. 
 
 Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Snldier.i, Murderers, 
 Attendants, and Messengers. 
 
 The Ghost of ISaiiquo, and sevei-al other Appari- 
 tions. 
 
 SCENE, in the End of Ihe fourth Act, lies in England ; through the rest of tlte Play, in Scotland ; 
 and, chiffiy, at Macbeth's Castle. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— An open Place. 
 Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. When shall wc three meet again, 
 In thunder, li^htnin;;. or in ralnl 
 
 2 Witch. When the hurlyburly's' done, 
 When the battle's lost and won. 
 
 3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun. 
 
 1 Witch. Where the place. 
 
 2 Witch. Upon the heath : 
 • 3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. 
 
 1 Witch. 1 come. Graynialkin ! 
 
 All. Paddock calls; — Anon. — 
 Fair is foul, and foul is fair : 
 Hover through the fog and ftlthy air. 
 
 [Witches vanish. 
 
 SCENE II. — A Camp near Forres. 
 
 Alarum within. Enter King Doncas, Malcolm, 
 
 Donalbain, Lenox, with Attendants, meeting 
 
 a bleeding Soldier. 
 
 Dun. What bloody man is thaf! He can report, 
 As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt 
 The newest state. 
 
 Mai. This is the sergeant. 
 
 Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought 
 'Gainst my captivity : — Hail, brave friend ! 
 Say to tlie king the knowledge of the broil, 
 As thou didst leave it. 
 
 Sold. Doubtfully it stood ; 
 
 As two spent swimmers, that do cling together. 
 And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald 
 (Worthy to be a rebel; for, to that, . 
 
 The multiplying viUanies of nature 
 Do swarm upon him) from the western isles 
 Of Kernes and Oallowglasses was supplied j^ 
 And f.irtune on his damned quarrel smiling, 
 Show'd hke a rebefs whore: But all's too weak: 
 For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name,) 
 Disdaining fortune, with his brandisifd steel, 
 Which smok'd with bloody execution. 
 Like valor's minion, 
 
 Carv'd out bis passage, till he forced the slave ; 
 And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, 
 Till be unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps. 
 And tix'd his head upon our battlements. 
 
 1 Tumult. 
 
 <* i. e. Supplied with light and heavy armed troops. 
 
 203 
 
 Dun. valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman ! 
 
 Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his rellection, 
 Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break ; 
 So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to 
 
 come. 
 Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark: 
 No sooner justice had, with valor arm'd, 
 Corapell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels; 
 But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage. 
 With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men. 
 Began a fresh assault. 
 
 Dun. Dismay'd not this 
 
 Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? . 
 
 SoW. Yes; 
 
 As sparrows, eagles ; or the hare, the lion. 
 If I say sooth,> I must report they were 
 As cannons overcharged with double cracks ; 
 So they 
 
 Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe : 
 Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds. 
 Or memorize anotlier Golgotha, 
 
 I cannot tell: 
 
 But I am faint, my gashes cry for helj). 
 
 l)u?i. So well thy words become thee, as thy 
 wounds ; 
 They smack of honor both : — Go, gel him surgeons. 
 [Exit Soldier, attended. 
 
 Enter Rosse. 
 Who comes here 1 
 
 Mai. The worthy thane of Rosse. 
 
 Len. What a haste looks through his eyes ! So 
 should he look. 
 That seems to speak things strange. 
 
 Posse. God save the king ; 
 
 Dun. WhcuLe cam'st thou, worthy thane? 
 
 Rosse. From Fife, great king. 
 
 Where the Norweyan banners llout the sky, 
 And fan our people cold. 
 Norway himself, with terrible numbers. 
 Assisted by tiiat most disloyal traitor 
 The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict: 
 Till that Bellona's bridegroom,' lapp'd in proof. 
 Confronted him with self-comparisons. 
 Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, 
 Curbing his lavish spirit : And, to conclude. 
 The victory fell on us ; 
 
 » Truth. * Shakspeare means Mkra. 
 
 f Defended by armor of proof. 
 
266 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Dun. Great happiness ! 
 
 Rosse. That now 
 Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; 
 Nor would we deif;n him burial of his men, 
 Till he disbursed, at St. Colmes' inch, 
 Ten thousand dollars to our general use. 
 
 Dun. No more that thane ot'Cawdor shall deceive 
 Our bosom interest: — Go, pronounce his death, 
 And with his former title greet Macbeth, 
 
 Ros::ie. VU see it done. 
 
 Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath 
 won. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Heath. 
 
 ThuH'ier. Enter the three Witches. 
 
 1 Wilch. Where hast thou been, sister 1 
 
 2 IVltch. Killing swine. 
 
 3 U'ifch. Sister, where thou T 
 
 1 Witch. A sailor's wile had chesnuts in her lap, 
 And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd: — 
 
 Give me. quoth I; 
 Aroint thee,^ witck.' the rump-fed ronyon^ cries. 
 Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master oHhe Tiger: 
 But in a sieve I'll tliitlier sail, 
 And, like a rat without a tail, 
 I'll do. I'll do, and I'll do. 
 
 £ Witch. I'll give thee a wind. 
 
 1 Witch. Thou art kind. 
 
 3 Witch. And I another. 
 
 1 Witch. I myself have all the other; 
 And the very porfs they blow. 
 
 All the quarters that they know 
 
 1' the shipman's card.' 
 
 I will drain him dry as hay: 
 
 Sleep shall, neither night nor day • 
 
 Haug upon his pent-house lid: 
 
 Ho shall live a man forbid:* 
 
 Wears" seven-nights, nine times nine, 
 
 Sliall he dwindle, peak, and pine; 
 
 Though his bark cannot be lost. 
 
 Yet it shall be tcmpcst-toss'd. 
 
 Look what I have. 
 
 2 Witch. Show me, show me. 
 
 1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb, 
 Wreck'd, as homeward he did come. 
 
 [Drum withi?i. 
 
 3 Witch. A drum, a drum; 
 Macbeth doth come. 
 
 All. The weird sisters,' hand in hand. 
 Posters of the sea and land. 
 Thus do go about, about; 
 Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, 
 And thrice again, to make up nine: 
 Peace ! — the charm's wound up. 
 
 Enter Macbeth and Banquo. 
 Much. So foul and liiir a day I have not seen. 
 Ban. How far is't call'd to Forres? — What are 
 these. 
 So wither'd, and so wild in their attire; 
 That looks not like the inhabitants o'the earth, 
 And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught 
 That man may question ! You seem to understand 
 
 me. 
 By each at once her choppy fingers laying 
 Upon her skinny lips: — You should be women. 
 And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
 That you are so. 
 Ma'cb. Speak, if you can: — What are you7 
 
 1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane 
 
 of Glarais! 
 
 2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane 
 
 of Cawdor! 
 
 3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be Icing 
 
 hereafter. 
 Bfln. Good sir, w"hy do you start and seem to fear 
 Things that do sound so fair? — I'thename of truth, 
 Arc ye fantastical, 2 or that indeed 
 Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner 
 You greet with present grace, and great prediction 
 Of noble having, 3 and of royal hope, 
 That he seems rapt* withal; to me you speak not: 
 If you can look into the seeds of time. 
 And say, which grain will grow, and which will not; 
 
 "Avaunt, begone. 
 
 • Compass. 
 
 > Prophetic Bisters. 
 
 • Estate. 
 
 ' A scurvy woman fed on offals. 
 
 * Accurserl. 
 3 Supernatural, spiritual. 
 
 * Abstracted. 
 
 Speakthen to me, who neither beg nor fear, 
 Youfllivors, nor your hate. 
 
 1 Witch. Hail! 
 
 2 Witch. Hail! 
 
 3 Witch. Hail! 
 
 1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. 
 
 2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much hajipier. 
 
 3 Witch. Tliou shalt get kings, though thou be 
 
 none : 
 So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo! 
 1 Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail! 
 Much. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more ■ 
 By Sinel's death. I know, I am thane of Glamis, 
 But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, 
 A prosperous gentleman; and, to be king. 
 Stands not within the prospect of belief. 
 No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence 
 You owe this strange intelligence ? or why 
 LTpon this blasted heath you stop our way 
 With such prophetic greeting f— Speak, I charge 
 you. [Witches i'o;!i.sA. 
 
 Dan. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has. 
 And these are of them : — Whither are they vanisli'd? 
 
 Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, 
 melted 
 As breath into the wind. — 'Would they have staid! 
 
 Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak 
 about? 
 Or have we eaten of the insane root. 
 That takes the reason prisoner? 
 
 Macb. Your children sliall be kings. 
 
 Ban. You shall be king. 
 
 Much. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so! 
 
 Ban. To the self-same tune and words. Who's 
 here? 
 
 Enter Rosse and Angcs. 
 
 Eussc. The Icing hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, 
 The news of thy success; and when he reads 
 Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight. 
 His wonders and his praises do contend. 
 Which should be thine, or his: Silenced with that. 
 In viewing o'er the rest o'lhe self-same day. 
 He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks. 
 Nothing afeard of what thy self didst make. 
 Strange images of death. "As thick as tale,' 
 Caine post with post; and every one did bear 
 Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence. 
 And pour'd them down before him. 
 
 Ang. We are sent, 
 
 To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; 
 To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee. 
 
 Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honor. 
 He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: 
 In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! 
 For it is thine. 
 
 Bun. What, can the devil speak true? 
 
 Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives: Why do you 
 dress me 
 In borrow'd robes? 
 
 Ang. Who was the thane, lives yet; 
 
 But under heavy judgment bears that life 
 Which he deserves to lose. Wlicther he was 
 Combined w'ith Norway; or did hue the rebel 
 With hidden help and vantage; or that with both 
 He labor'd in his country's wreck, I know not; 
 But treasons capital, confess'd and prov'd. 
 Have overthrown him. 
 
 Much. Glamis, and thane of Cawdor: 
 
 The greatest is behind. — Thanks for your pains, — 
 Do you not hope your children shall be kings, 
 When those that 'gave the thane of Cawdor to me, 
 Promis'd no less to them? 
 
 Ba7i. That, trusted home, 
 
 Might yet enkindle you unto the crown. 
 Besides the thane ol Cawdor. But 'tis strange: 
 And oftentimes to win us to our harm. 
 The instruments of darkness tell us truths: 
 Will us with honest trifles, to betray us 
 In deepest consequence. — 
 Cousins, a word I pray you. 
 
 Macb. Two truths are told, 
 
 As happy prologues to the swelling act 
 Of the imperial theme. — I thank you gentlemen.— 
 This supernatural soliciting^ 
 Cannot be ill; cjinnot be good: — If ill. 
 Why hath it given me earnest of success, 
 Cominencing in a truth! I am thane of Cawdor: 
 If good, why do I yield to that suggestion 
 
 * As f?,st as they could be counted, "Incitement. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 267 
 
 Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, ^ 
 And make my seated licart Imock at my ribs 
 Against tiie use of nature! Present fears 
 Are less than horrible imaginings: 
 Wy thought, wliose murder yet is but fantastical, 
 Shakes so my single state of man, that function 
 Is smother'd" in surmise; and nottiing is, 
 But what is not. 
 
 J^an. Look, how our partner^s rapt. 
 
 Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance 
 may crown me. 
 Without my stir. 
 
 Bati. New honors come upon him 
 
 Like our strange garments, cleave' not to their 
 
 mould. 
 But with the aid of use. 
 
 Macb. Come w^hat come may ; 
 
 Time and the hours runs through the roughest day. 
 
 Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon jour leisure. 
 
 Macb* Give me your lavor;^ — my dull brain was 
 wrought 
 With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains 
 Are registerM where every day I turn 
 The leaf to read them. — Let us toward the king. — 
 Tliink upon wiiat iiath chanced : and. at more time. 
 The interim having w'cigh'd it, let us speak 
 Our free hearts each to other. 
 
 Ban. Very gladly. 
 
 Macb. Till then, enough. — Come, friends. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Forres. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Duncax, Malcolm, Doxalbain, 
 Lexox, and Attendants. 
 
 Dun. Is execution done on Cawdorl Are not 
 Those in comroission yet retum'd! 
 
 Mai. My liege. 
 
 They arc not yet come back. But I have spoke 
 Witli one that saw hini die: who did report, 
 That very frankly lie conlessM his treasons; 
 ImplorM your highness' pardon; and set forth 
 A deep repentance : nothmg in his life 
 Became hun, like the leaving it; he died 
 As one tiiat had been studied in his death. 
 To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,' 
 As 'twere a careless trille. 
 
 Dun. There's no art. 
 
 To find the mind's construction in the face: 
 He was a gentleman on whom I built 
 An absolute trust. — O worthiest cousin! 
 
 Enter Macbeth, Ban'QCO, Rosse, ani AxGCS. 
 
 Tlie sin of my ingratitude even now 
 
 Was heavy on me; Thou art so liir before, 
 
 That swiftest wing of recompense is slow 
 
 To overtake thee. ' Would thou hadst less deserv'd. 
 
 That the proportion both of thanks and payment 
 
 Might have been mine ! only I have left to say, 
 
 More is thy due than more than all can paj'. 
 
 Macb, The service and the loj'alty I owe. 
 In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part 
 Is to receive our duties: and oiir'duties 
 Arc to your throne and state, cliildren, and servants ; 
 Which do but what they should, by doing every 
 
 thing. 
 Safe toward your love and lienor. 
 
 Dun. Welcome hither: 
 
 I have begun to plant thee, and will labor 
 To make thee full of growing. — Noble Banquo, 
 That hast no less deserv'd. nor must be known 
 No less to have done so. let me infold thee, 
 And hold thee to my heart. 
 
 Ban. There if I grow, 
 
 Tlie harvest is your own. 
 
 Dun. Mv plenteous joys, 
 
 Wanton in fullness, seek toliide themselves 
 In drops of sorrow. — Sons, kinsmen, thanes. 
 And you wliose places are the nearest, know, 
 We w'ill establish our estate upon 
 Our eldest, I\I-ilcom; whom we name hereafter. 
 The prince of Cumberland: which honor must 
 Not, unaccompanied, invest liim only. 
 But signs of nobleness, lilce stars, shall shine 
 On all deservers. — From hence to Inverness, 
 And bind us furtlier to you. 
 
 Macb. The rest is labor, which is not used for you : 
 I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful 
 
 ' i. e. Which cleave not. ^ Time and opportunity. 
 * Pardon. * Owned, possessed. 
 
 The hearing of my wife with your approach; 
 So. humbly take my leave. 
 
 Dun. My worthy Cawdor! 
 
 Macb. The prince of Cumberland! — That is a 
 step, [Aiide. 
 
 On which I must fall dowii, or else o'er-leap. 
 For in my waj' it Lies. Stars, hide your lires! 
 Let not light see my black and deep desires: 
 The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be, 
 Wliich the eye tears, when it is done, to see. [Exit. 
 
 Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant;* 
 And in his commendations I am fed ; 
 It is a banquet to nie. Let us after him. 
 Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: 
 It is a peerless kinsman. [Fluuriafi. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's 
 
 Castle. 
 
 Enter Lady JIacbeth, reading a letter. 
 
 Lady M. They met me in the dui/of success,- and 
 I hare learned hy !he jitrfectest report, theit luive 
 more in them ttian mortal knowledge, ll'^hcn I 
 burned in desire to questitm them further, they 
 made thent-selves — air, into which they vanistied. 
 Whiles I stood rapt in the vonder of it, came mis- 
 sires' from the king, who all hailed me. Thane of 
 Cawdor; by which title, before, thf.se weird sisters 
 saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of 
 liiiu:,with,Ha.il,kmg that shall be! This have I 
 thought good to df liver thee, my dearest partner of 
 greatness; that thou mightest not lose the dues of 
 rejoicing, bu being ignorant of what greatness is 
 promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell. 
 Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be 
 What Uiou art proinis'd: — Yet do I fear thy nature; 
 It is too full o' the milk of human kindness. 
 To catch the nearest way: Thou wouldst be great; 
 Art not without ambition; but without 
 The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst 
 
 highly, 
 Tliat wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, 
 And yetwouldstwTongly win; thou'dst have, great 
 
 Glamis, 
 That which cries. Thus thou must do,ifthou tuiceit; 
 .ind that which rattier thmi dost fear to do. 
 Than wiilicst should be undone. Hie thee hither, 
 That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; 
 And chastise with the valor of my tongue 
 All that impedes thee from the golden round,' 
 Which fate and metaphysical ^ aid doth seem 
 To have theecrown'd withal. — Wliat is your tidings? 
 
 Enter cm Attendant. 
 
 Attend. The king comes here to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it: 
 
 Is not thy master with him? who, were't so. 
 Would have inform'd for preparation. 
 
 Attend, So please j'ou, it is true; our thane is 
 coming: 
 One of my fellows had the speed of him; 
 Who, almost dead tor breath, had scarcely more 
 Tlian would make up his message. 
 
 Lady M. Give liim tending, 
 
 He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse, 
 
 [Exit Attendant. 
 That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
 I'nder my battlements. Come, come, you spirits 
 That tend on mortal" thoughts, unsex me here; 
 And till me, from tlie crown to the toe, top-full 
 Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood. 
 Stop up the access and passage to remorse;' 
 That no compunctious visi tings of nature 
 Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
 The elli^ct, and it! Come to my woman's breasts. 
 And take my ihilk for gall. your murd'ring ministers, 
 Wherever in your sigiitless substances 
 You wait on nature's mischief: Come, thick night, 
 And pall' thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! 
 Tliat my keen Iciiife see not the wound it makes: 
 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 
 To cry, Hold, hold.' Great Glamis! worthy 
 
 Cawdor ! 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 Greater tlian both, by the all-hail hereafter! 
 Thy letters have transported me beyond 
 
 a Full as valiant as described. 3 Messengers. 
 ^ Diadem. ^ Supernatural. '^ Deadly, murderous. 
 'Pity. 
 
 8 \Vrap asinamantle 
 
268 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 This ignorant present, and I feel now 
 The future in the instant. 
 
 Macb. M}- dearest love, 
 
 Duncan comes here to-night. 
 
 Lcihj M. And when goes hence 1 
 
 Macli. To-morrow, — as he jjurposes. 
 
 Laily M. 0, never 
 
 Shall .sun that morrow see! 
 Your lace, my thane, is a book, v/liere men 
 May read strange matters:— To beguile the time, 
 Look like the time; bear welcome ni your eye. 
 Your hand, your tongue: look like tlic imiocent 
 
 flower. 
 But be llie serpent under it. He tliat's coming 
 Must be provided for: and you shall put 
 This night's great business "into my despatch; 
 Which shall to all our nights and days to come 
 Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. 
 
 Mricb. VV'e will speak further. 
 
 ior/;/ HI. Only look up clear; 
 
 To alter favor^ ever is to fear: 
 Leave ail the rest to me. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \1.— Before the Castle. 
 
 Hautboys. Servants of Ma^cheth attending. 
 
 Enter Dcxcajj, Malcolm, Doxalbaix, Baxqito, 
 
 Lexux, Macduff, Eosse, Axgcs, and Attendants. 
 
 Dim. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses. 
 
 £an. This guest of summer, 
 
 The temple-haunting martlet, docs approve, 
 By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath 
 Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress. 
 Nor coigne of vantage," but this bird hath made 
 His pendent bed, and procreant cradle : Where they 
 Most breed and haunt, I have observ'd the air 
 Is delicate. 
 
 E7iter Lady Macleth. 
 
 Dun. See, see ! our honor'd hostess ! 
 
 The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble. 
 Which still we tliank as love. Herein 1 teacli you. 
 How you shall bid God yield" us lor your pains 
 And thank us for your trouble. 
 
 Ladi/ H/. All our seri'ice 
 
 In every point twice done, and tlien done double, 
 W^ere poor and single business to contend 
 Against those honors deep and broad, wherewith 
 Your majesty loads our house: Kor those of old, 
 And the late dignities heap'd up to tliem. 
 We rest your hermits. 
 
 Dun. Where's tlie thane of Cawdor! 
 
 We cours'd him at the heels, and had a purpose 
 To be his purveyor: but he rides well; 
 And his great love, sharp as Ins spur, hath holp him 
 To his liome before us: Fair and noble hostess. 
 We are your guest to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Your servants ever 
 
 Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in 
 
 compt,s 
 To make their audit at your highness' pleasure. 
 Still to return your owii. 
 
 Dun. Give me your hand. 
 
 Conduct me to mine host; we love liim highly, 
 And shall continue our grace towards him. 
 By your leave, hostess. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII.— ^ Room in the Castle. 
 
 Hautboys and torclies. Enter, anrl pass over tlie 
 stage, a Sewer,' and divers Scri-ants with disties 
 and service. Then enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. If it were done, wlien 'tis done, then 
 'twere well 
 It were done quickly: If the assassination 
 Could trammel up the consequence, and catch. 
 With his surcease, success; that but this blow 
 Might be the be-all and the end-all here. 
 But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,— 
 We'd jump the life to come.— But, in these cases. 
 We still have judgment here; that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice 
 Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 
 ''Look, countenance. " Convenient corner. 
 
 'Reward. " Suliject toaccompt. 
 
 < An officer so called from bis placing the diahes on 
 the talile. 
 
 To our own lips. He's here in double trust : 
 First, a.s 1 am liis kinsman and his subject. 
 Strong both against tlie deed; then, as his host. 
 Who should against his murderer shut the door. 
 Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan 
 Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
 So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
 Will plead like angels, trumpct-tongued, against 
 The deep dniiiiiatiiin of his taldng otf: 
 And pity, like a naked new-born babe. 
 Striding (111- blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd 
 Upon the sightless couriers' of the air, 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
 That tears shall drown the wind.— I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'er-Ieaps itself. 
 And falls on the other.— How now, what news'! 
 
 Enter Lady Maceeth. 
 
 Lady flf. He has almost supp'd: Why have you 
 
 left the chamber! 
 Macb. Hath he ask'd for me! 
 Lady M. Know vou not, he has! 
 
 Mach. We will proceed no furtherin thi.s business: 
 He hath honor'd me of late; and I have bought 
 Golden opinions from all sorts of people, 
 Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, 
 Not cast aside so soon. 
 
 Lady M. Was the hope drunk, 
 
 Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since? 
 And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
 At what it did so freely? From this time, 
 Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard 
 To be the same in thine own act and valor. 
 As thou art in desire! Wouldst thou have that 
 Which thou esteem'st tlic oniament of life. 
 And live a coward in thine ov™ esteem; 
 Letting / dare not wait upon / would 
 Lilie the poor cat i' the adage? 
 
 l^Iacb. Pr'ythee, peace 
 
 I dare do all that may become a man; 
 Who dares do more, is none. 
 
 Lady M. What beast was it then 
 
 That made you break this enterprise to me! 
 When you durst do it, then you were a man; 
 And, to be more than what you were, you would 
 Be so much more tile man. Nor time, nor place, 
 Did then adhere," and yet you would make both: 
 They have made themselves, and that their fitness 
 
 now 
 Does unm.ake you. I have given suck, and know 
 How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me: 
 I would, while it was smiling in my face. 
 Have pluck'd my nipple from its boneless gums. 
 And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you 
 Have done to tliis. 
 
 Macb. If we sliould fail, 
 
 Lady M. We fail! 
 
 But screw your courage to the sticking place. 
 And we'll not fail. ^Vhen Duncan is asleep, 
 (Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey 
 Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains 
 Will I with wine and wasseD f-o convince,^ 
 That memory, the warder' of the brain. 
 Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason 
 A limbeck onl)': When in swinish sleep 
 Their drenched natures lie. as in a death, 
 What cannot you and I perform upon 
 The unguarded Duncan! what not put upon 
 His spongy otlicers; who shall bear the guilt 
 Of our great quell!' 
 
 Macb. Bring forth men-children only! 
 
 For thy undaunted mettle should compose 
 Nothing but males. Will it not be received,' 
 When we have inark'd with blood those sleepy two 
 Ol'his own chamber, and used their very daggers. 
 That they have don't! 
 
 Lady M. Who dares receive it other, 
 
 As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar 
 Upon his death? 
 
 Macb. I am settled, and bend up 
 
 Each corporal agent to this terrible li?at. 
 Away, and mock the time with fairest show: 
 F'aisc face must hide what the false heart doth know. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 s Winds ; sightless is invisible. 
 
 " In the same sense as cohere. ' Intemperance. 
 
 8 Overpower. 9 Sentinel. 
 
 ' Murder. ' Supposed. ' Thrift. 
 
Act II. So£KE I. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 2G9 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE l— Court within Macbeth's Castle. 
 
 Enter Banqco ani Fleance, and a Servant u-itli a 
 torch before, ttiem. 
 
 Ban. How goes the night, boys'! 
 
 Fie. Tile moon is down; 1 have not heard tiie 
 clock. 
 
 Ban. And she goes downi at twelve. 
 
 Fte. I taJ<e't, 'tis later, sir. 
 
 Ban. Hold, take my sword: — There's husbandry 
 in heaven. 
 Their candles are all out. — Take thee that too. 
 A heavy summons lies like lead u^on me, 
 And yet I would not sleep: Mcrcil'ul powers ! 
 Restrain in nic the cursed thoughts, that nature 
 Gives way to in repose I^Give me my sword; — 
 
 Enter Macbeth, and a Servant witli a tarcli. 
 
 Who's there? 
 
 Mad). A friend. 
 
 Bmi. What, sir, not yet at rest? The Icing's a-bed: 
 He hath been in usual jileasure, and 
 Sent forth great large-;s* to your ollices:* 
 This diamond he greets your wife withal, 
 liy the name of most kind hostess; and shut up° 
 III measureless content. 
 
 Mac'i. Being unprepared. 
 
 Our will became the servant to delect; 
 Wliich else should free have wrought. 
 
 Ban. All's well. 
 
 I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: 
 To vou they have show'd some truth. 
 
 Mich. I think not of them: 
 
 Vet when we can entreat an hour to serve, 
 Would spend it in some words upon that business. 
 If you would grant the time. 
 
 Ban. At your kind'st leisure. 
 
 Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, — when 
 'tis, 
 It shall make honor for you. 
 
 Ban. So I lose none, 
 
 In seeking to augment it, but still keep 
 I\Iv bosom franchis'd, and allegiance clear, 
 I shall be couu.seli'd. 
 
 Macb. Good repose, the wliilc. 
 
 Ban. Thanks, sir; The like to you. 
 
 [Exit Ban(ji:o and Fi.eance. 
 
 Macb. Go. bid thy mistress, when my drink is 
 ready. 
 She strike upon the bell. Get thee to hed. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 Is this a dagger which I see before me, 
 The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch 
 
 thee: — 
 I havetliee not, and \'et I see thee still. 
 Art thou not. tatal vision, sensilde 
 To feeling as to si|,'lil ? or art tliou but 
 A dagger of the mind; a false creation. 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 
 I see thee yet, in form as palpable 
 As this which now I draw. 
 Tliou marshai'st me the way that I was going; 
 And such an instrument I was to use. 
 Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, 
 Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; 
 And on tliy blade, and dudgeon.' gouts *^ of blood, 
 Which was not so iiejbre. — There's no such thing: 
 It is the bloody business, wliicli informs 
 Tims to mine eyes. — Now o'er the one Iialf world 
 Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
 The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates 
 Pale Ilecatp's olleruigs; and witherM murder, 
 Alarurn'd by his sentinel, tlie wolf. 
 Whose howl's liiswalch, thus with his stealthy pace, 
 With Tarquin'sravisliing strides, towards his design 
 
 Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set 
 
 earth. 
 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
 Thy very stones prate of my where-about. 
 And take the present horror from the time. 
 Which now suits with it. — Whiles I threat, he lives; 
 
 * Bounty. ^ The rooms appropri,ited to servants. 
 
 • Conclude. ' Haft, handle. 8 Drops. 
 
 Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath give.s. 
 
 [A bill rings. 
 I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. 
 Hear it not, Duncan; (or it is a knell 
 That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— TAe same. 
 Enter Lady Macbetu. 
 
 Lady M. Tliat which liath made them drunk, 
 hath made ine bold: 
 What hath queiich'd them, hath given me fire; — 
 
 Hark!— Peace! 
 It was the owl that sliriek'd the fatal bellman. 
 Which gives the sto.ru'st good-night. He isabout it : 
 The doors are open; and tlie surfeited grooms 
 Do mock their charge witli snores: 1 have drugg'd 
 
 their possets, 
 That death and nature docontendabout them, 
 W'lietiier tlu'y live or die. 
 
 Much. [IVi'fhin.] Who's there?— what, ho! 
 
 Lady M. Alack! 1 am afraid they have awaked, 
 And 'tis not done: — the attempt and not the deed, 
 Confounds us:— Hark!— 1 laid their daggers re.ady. 
 He could not miss tliem.— Had he not resembled 
 My father as he slejit, 1 had done"t.— .My lius: and! 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. I have done the deed:— Didst tliou not 
 hear a noise ' 
 
 Lady M. I heard th • owl scream, and the crick- 
 ets cry. 
 Did not you speak? 
 
 Macb. When? 
 
 Lady M. Now. 
 
 Macb. ■ As I descended? 
 
 Ladi/ M. Ay. 
 
 Macb. Hark!— 
 Who lies i'thc second chamber? 
 
 Lady M. Donalbain. 
 
 Macb. This is a sorry sight. 
 
 [Lnnking on liis hands. 
 
 iMdy M. A foolish Ihonglit; to say a sorry siglit. 
 
 Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and 
 one cried, murder.' 
 That thev did wake each other; I stood and heard 
 
 them; 
 But they did say tlieir prayers, and address'd them 
 Again to sleep. 
 
 Latly M. Tlicrc are two lodg'd together. 
 
 Macb. One cried, Ood bless iii! and Amen, the 
 other; 
 As they had seen me, with Ihese hangman's hands 
 Listening their fear. I could not say, amen, 
 When they did say, God bless us. 
 
 Ijidy M. Consider it not so deeply, 
 
 Mac!}. But wherefore could not I pronounce, 
 amen ? 
 I had most need of blessing, and amen 
 Stuck in my throat. 
 
 Lady M. Tiicse deeds must not be thought 
 
 Afler these ways; so, it will make us mad. 
 
 Macb. Methought, 1 heard a voice cry, Sleep no 
 more ! 
 Macbeth doth murder sleep, the innocent sleep; 
 Sleep, tlint knit.s up the rneelPd sleave" of care, 
 The death of each deiy's life, sore lahnr^s bath. 
 Balm, of hurt miinis, great nature's second course. 
 Chief nnitrh-fitr in lif-.s feast ; — 
 
 Lady M. ^VImt do you mean? 
 
 Aladi. Still It crii-d. SIcip numnre! to all the house: 
 Gluinis hath murder^t sleep,- and therefore Cawdiir 
 Shall sleep no more, Mac'itth sheill sleep no more.' 
 
 Lady JI. Who was it that thus cried! Why, 
 worthy tliane. 
 You do unhen'd jour noble strength, to think 
 So brainsickly of things:— Go, get some water, 
 And wash this liltliy witness from your hand. — 
 Why did you bring these daggers from the plact ' 
 They must lie there; Go, carry them; and smear 
 The sleepy grooms with blood. 
 
 Macb. I'll go no more; 
 
 8 Sleave is unwrought silk. 
 
270 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 I am alrnid to thinJi what I have done; 
 Look on't agaiii, I dare not. 
 
 Lad II M. Infirm of purpose! 
 
 Give liic tile daggers; The sleeping and tlie dead 
 Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood, 
 That (cars a painted devil. It he do bleed, 
 I'll gild the taces of the grooms withal. 
 For it must seem their guilt. 
 
 {Exit^ Knnckint^ tvithin. 
 Much. Whence is lliat Ivnockiiigi 
 
 How is't with me, when every noise aitpals nie \ 
 What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine 
 
 eyes ! 
 Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean from my hand"! No: this my hand will rather 
 The multitudiiious seas incarnadine,' 
 Waking the green — one red. 
 
 Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 
 La fill J/ My hands are of your color; but I shame 
 To wear a heart so white. " [Knocking.] I hear a 
 
 knocking 
 At the south entry: — retire we to our chamber: 
 A little water clears us of this deed: 
 How easy is it, then! Your constancy 
 Hath lett you unattended. — [Knocking.] Hark! 
 
 more loiocking: 
 Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us, 
 And show us to be watchers: — Be not lost 
 So poor!>" in your thoughts. 
 Miicb.' To know my deed, — 'twere best not know 
 
 myself. [Knocking. 
 
 Wake Duncan with thyknoclcing! I would thou 
 
 couldst ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— TAe same. 
 Enter a Porter. [Knocking irittiin. 
 
 Porter. Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man 
 were porter of hell-gate, he should have old" turn- 
 ing the key. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock: 
 Who's there? i'the name of Belzebub! Here's a 
 farmer, thai hanged himself on the expectation of 
 plenty; Conieinlime; have napkinssciiough about 
 you; here you'll sweat for't. [Knocking.] Knock, 
 knock: Who's there, i' the other devil's name] — 
 'Faith, here's an equivoeator, that could swear in 
 both the .scales againsf either scale; who committed 
 treason enough lor God's sake, yet could not equi- 
 vocate to Heaven: O, come in, equivoeator. [Knock- 
 ing.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there? 'Faith, 
 here's an Knglish tailor come hither, for stealing 
 out of a French hose: Conic in, tailor; here you 
 may roast your goose. [Knocking.] Knock, kniock: 
 Never at quiet! What are you? But this place is 
 too cold lor hell. I'll devil-porter it no further: I 
 had thought to have let in some of all protcssions, 
 that i:o liie primrose way to the everlasting bontire. 
 [Knnfkiiig.] Anon, anon; I pray you, remember 
 the poller. [Opens tlic gate. 
 
 Enter Macditf and Le.nox. 
 
 Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, 
 That you do lie so late? 
 
 Port. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the sec- 
 ond cock : and drink, sir, is a great provoker of 
 three tilings. 
 
 Miicl. Wliat three things does drink especially 
 provoke. 
 
 Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. 
 Leeher\'. sir, it provokes, anti unprovokes; it pro- 
 vokes the desire, but it takes away the perlbrniancc. 
 Therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivo- 
 catorwith lechery: itmakcs him, and it mars him; 
 it sets him on, and it takes him olF; it persuades 
 him, and disheartens him ; makes him stand to, and 
 not stand to: in conclusion, equivocates him in a 
 sleep, and. giving him the lie, leaves him. 
 
 Mucd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night. 
 
 Port. That it did, sir. i'the very threat o'me: 
 But I re()iiiled him for his lie; and. I think, being 
 too slronii for him, though he took up my legs 
 somcliiiie, yet I made a shitt-to cast him. 
 
 Mttrd. Is'tliy master stirring? — 
 Our knocking hath awaked hiin ; here he comes. 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Len. Good-morrow, noble sir! 
 
 Much. Good-morrow, both ! 
 
 ' To incarnailiue, is to 8t:iin of a flesh color. 
 Frequeut. ^ Handkerchiefs. 
 
 Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? 
 
 Mach. Not yet. 
 
 Macd. He did command me to call timely on him ; 
 I have almost slipp'd the hour. 
 
 Much. I'll bring you to him. 
 
 Macd. I know this is a joyful trouble to you; 
 But yet 'tis one. 
 
 Much. The labor we delight in physics* pain. 
 This is the door. 
 
 Macd. I'll make so bold to call. 
 
 For 'tis my limited service.* [Exit Macdth^f. 
 
 Lcn. Goes the king 
 
 From hence to-day? 
 
 Mach. He does: — he did appoint it so. 
 
 Len. The night has been unruly : Where wc lay. 
 Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say, 
 Lamentings heard i'the air; strange screams of 
 
 death; 
 And prophesying, with accents terrible. 
 Of dire combustion, and confused events, 
 New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird 
 Clamor'd the livelong night : some say, the earth 
 Was tcverous and did shake. 
 
 Macb. 'Twas a rough night. 
 
 Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel 
 A fellow to It. 
 
 Re-enter Macdvff. 
 
 Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor 
 heart, 
 Cannot conceive or name thee! 
 
 Macb. Len. What's the matter? 
 
 Macd. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece ! 
 Jlost sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
 The Lord's annointed temple, and stole thence 
 The lile o' the building. 
 
 Macb. What is"t you say? the life! 
 
 Len. Mean you his majesty ? 
 
 Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy youi 
 sight 
 With a new Gorgon:— Do not bid me speak; 
 Sec, and then speak yourselves. — Awake! Awake! 
 (^Exeunt Macbeth and Lesox. 
 Ring the alarum-bell:— Jlnrder. and -treason! 
 Banquo, and Donalbain ! Malcolm ! awake ! 
 Shake otlthis downy sleep, death's counterfeit, 
 And look on death itself! Up, up, and see 
 The great doom's image! — Malcom! Banquo! 
 As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, 
 To countenance this horror. [Bell rings. 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 iMdy M. What's the business, 
 
 That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley 
 The sleepers of the house? speak, speak.— 
 
 Macd. O, gentle lady, 
 
 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: 
 The repetition, in a woman's ear, 
 Would murder as it fell.— Banquo! Banquo! 
 
 Enter Baxijuo. 
 Our roy.al master's murder'd! 
 
 Ladi/ M. 
 What.'in our house? 
 
 Ban. Too cruel, any where. 
 
 Dear Duff, I pr'ythee contradict thyself, 
 And say, it is not so. 
 
 Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox. 
 
 Mach. Had I but died an hour before this chance, 
 I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant, 
 There's nothing serious in mortality: 
 ,^11 is but toys: renown, and grace is dead: 
 The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 
 Is left this vault to brag of. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and Doxalbain. 
 
 Don. What is amiss? 
 
 Much. You are, and do not Iniow it: 
 
 The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood 
 Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd. 
 
 Macd. Your royal father's murder'd. 
 
 Mai. ! by whom ? 
 
 Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had 
 done't: . . ,^, 
 
 Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood. 
 So were their daggers, which, unwiped, we found 
 Upon their pillows: 
 
 They starecf, and were distracted; no man's life 
 Was to be trusted with them. 
 
 « i. e. Affords a cordial to it. ^Ajipointed service. 
 
 Woe, alas ! 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 271 
 
 Macb. 0, yet I do repent me of my fury, 
 That I did lall them. 
 
 Macd. Wherefore did you sol 
 
 Much. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate, and 
 furious, 
 Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: 
 The expedition of my violent love 
 Out-ran the pauscr reason.— Here lay Duncan, 
 His silver skui laced with his golden blood; 
 And his sash'd stabs look'd lilie a breach in nature, 
 I'or ruin's w.astcful eiUrance: there, the murderers, 
 Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers 
 Unmannerly breech'd with gore: « who could refrain. 
 That had a heart to love, and in that heart 
 Courage to make his love known ? 
 
 Lahi M. Help me hence, ho! 
 
 Macd. Look to the lady. 
 
 Mai. Why do wc hold our tongues, 
 
 That most may claim this argument lor ours? 
 
 Don. Wliat sliould be spoken here. 
 Where our fate, hid within an auger-hole. 
 May rush and seize us? Let's away; our fears 
 Are not yet brew'd. 
 
 Mai. Nor our strong sorrow on 
 
 Tlie loot of motion. 
 
 Ban. Look to the lady: — 
 
 [Lady Macbeth is carried out. 
 And when we have our naiced frailties hid, 
 That sull'er in exposure, let us meet. 
 And question this most bloody piece of work. 
 To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: 
 In the great hand of God I stjinij; and, thence, 
 Against the undivulg'd pretence I light 
 Of treasonous malice. 
 
 Macb. And so do I. 
 
 All. So all. 
 
 Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, 
 And meet i' the hall together. 
 
 All. Well contented. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Mal. and Don. 
 
 Mai. What will you do? Let's not consort with 
 them : 
 To show an unfelt soiTOW, is an office 
 Which the tiilse man docs easy: I'll to England. 
 
 Dun. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune 
 Sliall keep us both the safer: where we are. 
 There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood. 
 The nearer iiloody. 
 
 Mal. This murderous shaft that's shot, 
 
 Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way 
 Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; 
 And let us not be dainty of leave taking. 
 But shift away: there's warrant in that theft. 
 Which steals Itself, when there's no mercy left. 
 
 [Exeu7it. 
 
 SCENE W.— Without the Castle. 
 Enter RiissE and an Old Jlan. 
 Old M. Tlireescore and ten I can remember well: 
 Within the volume of which time, I have seen 
 
 Hours dreadl'ul, and things strange; but this soro 
 
 night 
 Hath trilled former knowings. 
 
 liosse. Ah good father, 
 
 Thou scest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, 
 Tiircaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day. 
 And yet dark niglit strangles the travelling lamp: 
 Is it night's predominance, o-r the day's shame, 
 That darkness does the lace of earth intomb. 
 When living hght should kiss it? 
 
 Old M. 'Tis unnatural, 
 
 Even hke the deed that s done. On Tuesday last 
 A falcon, towering in her pride of place. 
 Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kiU'd. 
 
 Rosse. And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange 
 and certain,) 
 Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, 
 Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, 
 Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would mak» 
 War with mankind. 
 
 Old M. 'Tis said, they eat each other. 
 
 Ru.'isc. They did so; to the amazement of mine 
 eyes, 
 That look'd upon 't. Here comes the good Mac- 
 dull:- 
 
 Enter Macduff. 
 
 How goes the world, sir, now ? 
 
 Maid. ' Why, see you not ! 
 
 Rosse. Is't known who did this more than bloody 
 deed ! 
 
 Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. ' 
 
 Riisse. ' Alas, the day ! 
 
 Wliat good could they pretend?' 
 
 Mad. They were suborn'd: 
 
 Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons. 
 Are stol'n away and tied; which puts upon them 
 Suspicion of the deed. 
 
 Rosse. 'Gainst nature still ; 
 
 Thriftless ambition, that wilt raven up 
 Thine own lil'e's means!— Then 'tis most like. 
 The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. 
 
 Macd.. He is already named; and gone to Scone, 
 To be invested. 
 
 Rosse. Where is Duncan's body? 
 
 Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill; 
 The sacred storehouse of his predecessors. 
 And guardian of their bones. 
 
 Rosse. Will you to Scone ! 
 
 Macd. No, cousin, I'll to File. 
 
 Rosse. Well, I will thither. 
 
 Macd. Well, may you see things well done 
 there ; — adieu ! — 
 Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! 
 
 Rosse. Father, farewell. 
 
 Old M. God's benison go with you: and with 
 those 
 That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— Forres, .-t Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Banquo. 
 Ban. Thou hast it now. King, Cawdor, Glamis, 
 all. 
 As the w^eird woman promis'd; and, I fear 
 Thou play'dst most I'oiilly for't: yet it was said. 
 It should "not stand in thy posterity; 
 But that myself should be the root, and father 
 Of many kings. If there come truth from them, 
 (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine,) 
 Why, by the verities on thee made good. 
 May they not be my oracles as well, 
 And set me up in h'niic ! But, hush; no more. 
 
 Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as Kinm Lady 
 MACiiETii, as Queen.- Lenox, Rosse, Lords, 
 Ladies, and Attendants. 
 
 Macb. Here's our chief guest. 
 
 LadyM. If he had been forgotten. 
 It had been as a gap in our great feast, 
 And all things unbecoming. 
 
 ^ Covered with blood to their hilta 
 
 Mach. To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir, 
 And I'll request your presence. 
 
 Ban. Let your highness 
 
 Command upon me; to the which, my duties 
 Are with a most indissoluble tie 
 For ever knit. 
 
 Macb. Ride you this afternoon? 
 
 Ban. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. We should have else desired your good 
 advice 
 (Which still had been both grave and prosperous) 
 In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow. 
 Is't far you ride? 
 
 Ban. As far my lord, as will fill up the time 
 'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better, 
 I must become a borrower of the night. 
 For a dark hour or twain. 
 
 Ufacb. Fail not our feast. 
 
 Ban. Mv lord, I will not. 
 
 Macb. Vfe hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd 
 In England, and in Ireland; not confessing 
 Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers 
 ' Intend to themselves. 
 
272 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 With strange invention: But of thiit to-morrow; 
 Wlien therewitiial, v/e shall liave cause of state, 
 Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: Adieu, 
 Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? 
 
 Ban. Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 
 us. 
 
 Mach. I wish your horses swift and sure of foot; 
 And so I do commend you to their backs. 
 
 Farewell. [Exit Banqco. 
 
 Let every man be master of his time 
 TfU seven at night; to make society 
 Tlie sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself 
 Till supper-time alone; while then, God be with you. 
 {Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, tVc. 
 Sirrah, a word: Attend those men our pleasure! 
 
 Aften. They are. my lord, without the palace gate. 
 
 ilacb. Bring them belbre us. — \_Exit Atten. 
 
 To be thus, is nothing; 
 But to be safely thus : — Our fears in Banquo 
 Stick deep; and in his royalty^ of nature 
 Keigns that, which would be fear'd : 'Tis much he 
 
 dares ; 
 And to that dauntless temper of his mind, 
 He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor 
 To act in safety. There is none, but he 
 Whose being I do fear: and under him, 
 RIy genius is rebuked; as, it is said. 
 Murk Antonyms was by Cffisar. He chid the sisters. 
 When lirst they pnt the name of King upon me, 
 Autl bade them speak to him ; then, prophet-liJie, 
 They hailM him lather to a line of kings: 
 Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, 
 And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, 
 Tlience to be wreneird with an unlineal hand, 
 Ko son of mine succeeding. If it be so, 
 For Banquo's issue have I filed'' my mind; 
 For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd; 
 Put rancors in the vessel of my peace 
 Oidy for them; and mine eternal jewel 
 Given to the common enemy of man. 
 To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! 
 Rather than so, come, <atc, in the list. 
 
 And champion me to the utterance!' Who's 
 
 there \ — 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, wiili l\vo Murderers. 
 
 Now to the door, and stay there till we call. 
 
 [Exit Attendant. 
 Was it not yesterday we spoke together! 
 
 1 Mm: It was, so please your highness. 
 
 Macb. Well then, now 
 
 Have you considered of my speeches'! Know, 
 That It was he, in the time past, which held you 
 So under fortune; which, you thought, had been 
 Oux innocent self: this I made good to you 
 In our last conference; pass'd in probation- with you, 
 How you were borne in hand; how cross'd; the 
 
 instruments; 
 Who wrought with tlxm; and all things else, that 
 
 might. 
 To half a soul, and a notion cr,azM, 
 Say. Thus did Banquo. 
 
 f Mirr. You made it laiown to us. 
 
 Macb. I did so; and went further, which is now 
 Our point of second meeting. Do you find 
 Vnur patience so predominant in your nature. 
 That you can let this go! Are you so gosijell'd, 
 To pray tor that good man, and for his issue, 
 Whose'heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave, 
 And beggar'd yours for ever! 
 
 1 I\Iiu: ' We are men, my liege. 
 
 Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; 
 As hounds', and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, 
 
 curs, 
 Shoughs," water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are cleped'' 
 All by the name of dogs: the valued file 
 Distinguishes the swill, the slow, the subtle. 
 The honse-kei'per, the hunter, every one 
 According to the gift which bounteous nature 
 Hath in himclos'd; whereby he docs receive 
 Particular addition,-'' li'om the bill 
 That writes Ihem all alike: And so of men. 
 Now, if you have a station in the tile. 
 And notin the worst rank of manhood, say it; 
 And I will put that business in your bosoms, 
 W^liosc execution takes your enemy off; 
 
 6 Nobleness. " For defiled. 
 
 1 ChuUenge me to extremities. ^ Proved. 
 
 •Wolf-dogs. < Called. 
 
 'Title, description. 
 
 Grapples you to tlie heart and love of us. 
 Who wear our health but sickly in his life, 
 Which in his death were perfect. 
 
 •2 Mur. I am one, my liege, 
 
 Whom the vile blows and butfets of the world 
 Have so inccns'd that I am reckless" what 
 I do, to spite the world. 
 
 1 Mur. And I another. 
 
 So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, 
 That I would set iny life on any chance. 
 To mend it, or be rid on't. 
 
 Macb. Both of you 
 
 Know, Banquo was j'our enemy. 
 
 2 Mur. True, my lord. 
 Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, 
 
 That every minute of his being thrusts 
 Against my near'st of life: And though I could 
 \Vith bare-faced power sweep him from my sight, 
 And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not. 
 For' certain friends that are both his and mine, 
 Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall 
 Whom I myself struck down: and thence it is, 
 That I to your assistance do make love; 
 Masking the business from the common ej'e, 
 For sundry weighty reasons. 
 
 a Mur. We shall, my lord, 
 
 Perform what you command ns. 
 
 1 Mur. Though our lives 
 
 Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within 
 'this hour, at most, 
 I will advise you where to plant yourselves, 
 Acquaint you with the perlect spy o'the time. 
 Tile moment on't; for't must be done to-night. 
 And something from the palace; always thought, 
 That I require a clearness: And with him, 
 (To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work,) 
 Fleance his son, that keeps his company. 
 Whose absence is no less material to me 
 Than is his father's, must embrace the fate 
 Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart; 
 I'll come to you anon. 
 
 ■2 Mur. Wc are rcsolv'd, my lord. 
 
 Macb. I'll call upon you straight; abide within. 
 
 It is concluded: Banquo. thy soul's flight. 
 
 If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.—Anutlier Room. 
 Enter Lady Macbeth, and a Servant. 
 
 L^ady M. Is Banquo gone from court ! 
 
 Kerr. Ay, madam, hut returns again to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Say to the king, I wo'uld attend his 
 leisure 
 For a few words. 
 
 Sen: Madam I will. [Exit. 
 
 Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent. 
 
 Where our desire is got without content : 
 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy. 
 Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 How now, my lord! why do you keep alone. 
 Of sorriest* fancies your'conip.anions making! 
 Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died 
 With them tiiey think on! Thingswithout remedy. 
 Should be without regard: what's done, is done. 
 
 Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it; 
 She'll close, and be herself; whilst .our poor malice 
 Remains in danger of her ibrmer tooth. 
 But let 
 
 The frame of things disjoint, hoth theworldssuffer, 
 Ere we will eat our meals in fear, and sleep 
 In the aflliclion of these terrible dreams. 
 That shake us nightly: Belter be with the dead. 
 Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
 Than on the torture of the mind lo lie 
 In restless cstacy." Duncan is in his grave; 
 After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; 
 Treason has done his worst: nor sleel, nor poison, 
 Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing. 
 Can touch him further! 
 
 Lady M. Come on; 
 Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; 
 Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night. 
 
 Macb. So sliall I, love; and so, I pray, be you: 
 Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; 
 Present him eminence,' botlmith eye and tongue. 
 Unsafe the while, that we 
 
 "Careless. ' Because of. * Most melancholy. 
 * Agony. ' Do liim the highest honors. 
 
SCEXE IV. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 273 
 
 Must lave our honors in these nattering streams; 
 And make our laces vizards to our hearts, 
 Disguising what they are. 
 Larly M. You must leave this. 
 
 Macb. U, full of scorpions is my mind, dearwife! 
 Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. 
 Lu-ly M. But in them nature's copy's not eternc.^ 
 Mac'). There's comfort yet; they arc assailable; 
 Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown 
 His cloister'd flight ; ere, to black Hecate'ssummons, 
 The shard-borne beetle,^ with his drowsy hums. 
 Hath run^ nijjhl's yawning peai, there shall be done 
 A deed of dreadful note. 
 Lad)/ AT. , What's to be donel 
 
 Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest 
 chuck. 
 Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling* night, 
 Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; 
 And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
 Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
 Which keeps me pale! — LiKhtthickens;and the crow 
 Makes wing to the rocky wood: 
 Good things of day begm to drop and drowse; 
 Whiles night's Ijiack agents to their prey do rouse. 
 Thou marvell'st at my words; but hold thee still; 
 Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: 
 So, pr'ythee, go with mc. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \U.—A Park or Lawn, with a Gale 
 
 leading lo Ihe Palace. 
 
 Enter Tlirec Alurdcrers. 
 
 1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? 
 
 3 Mur. Macbeth. 
 
 2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust : since he de- 
 
 livers 
 Our offices, and what we have to do, 
 To the direction just. 
 
 1 Mur. Then stand with us. 
 
 The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: 
 Now spurs the latcd travellers apace. 
 To gain the timely inn; and near approaches 
 The subject of our watch. 
 
 3 Mur. Hark ! I hear horses. 
 Ban. \ Within.] Give us a light there, liol 
 
 a Mur. Then it is he; the rest 
 
 That are within the note of expectation, 
 
 Already i'thc court. 
 1 Mur. His horses go about, 
 
 3 ^lur. .\lmost a mile: but he does usually. 
 
 So all men do, from hence to the palace gate 
 
 Make it their walk. 
 
 Enter Banquo and Fleance, a Servant icith a torch 
 preceding them, 
 
 S Mur. A light! alight! 
 
 3 Mur. 'Tis he. 
 
 1 Mur. Stand (o't. 
 Ban. It will be rain to-night. 
 1 Mur. Let it come down. 
 
 [Assaults BAxgfo. 
 Bon. 0, treachery! Fly, good Fieance, fly, fly, fly; 
 Thou mayst revenge. O sJuye! 
 
 [Die.'n. Fi.EANCE and Servant escape. 
 3 Mur. Who did strike out the light ! 
 1 Mur. Was't not the way? 
 
 3 Mur. There's but one down; the son has fled, 
 a Mur. We have lost best half of our allair. 
 1 Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is 
 done. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— .1 Room of State in ihe Palace. 
 
 A Banquet prepared. Enter MACiiETn, Lady Mac- 
 beth, RossE, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Macb. You know your own degrees, sit down: 
 at first 
 And last, the hearty welcome. 
 
 Lords. Thanks to your majesty. 
 
 Macb. Our.self will mingle with society. 
 And play the humble host. 
 Our hostess keeps her sfato;' but, in best time. 
 We will require her welcome. 
 
 ' i. e. The copy, the lease, by which they hold their 
 lives, is not eternal. 
 
 3 The beetle borne in the air by its shards or scaly 
 wings. 
 
 •Blinding. ^ji^^ chair of state. 
 
 IS 
 
 Lady nL Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our 
 friends; 
 For my heart speaks, they are welcome. 
 
 Enter First Murderer, to the door. 
 
 Macb. See, they encounter thee with their 
 
 hearts' thanks: 
 
 Both sides are even: Here I'll sit i'the midst: 
 Be large in mirth; anon, we'll drink a measure 
 The table round. — There's blood upon thy tiice. 
 
 Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then. 
 
 Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within. 
 Is he despatch'd? 
 
 Mur. My lord. Ills throat is cut; t.hat Idid forliim. 
 
 Macb. Thou art the best o'the cut-throats: Yet 
 he's good, 
 That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, 
 Thou art the nonpareil. 
 
 Mur. Most royal sir, 
 
 Fleance is 'scaped. 
 
 Macb. Then comes my fit again : I had else been 
 perlcct; 
 Whole as tJie marble, founded as the rock; 
 As broad, and general, as the ciLsing air: 
 But now, 1 am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in 
 To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe ! 
 
 Mur. Ay, my good lord, safe in a ditch he bides, 
 With twenty trenched ga.shes on his head; 
 The least a death to nature. 
 
 Macb. Thanks for that: 
 
 There the grown serpent lies; the worm, that's fled, 
 Hath nature that in time v\-ilJ venom breed. 
 No teeth for the present. — Get thee gone; to-mor- 
 row 
 We'll hear ourselves again. [Exit Murderer. 
 
 Laiiy M. My royal lord. 
 
 You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold. 
 That is not ol\en vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 
 'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at 
 
 home; 
 From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; 
 Meeting were bare without it. 
 
 Macb. Sweet remembrancer!— 
 
 Now good digestion wait on appetite, 
 And health on both! 
 
 Len. May it please your highness sit? 
 
 [The Ghost <f Banquo rises, and iits in 
 Machetii's place. 
 
 Macb. Here had we now our country's honor 
 roofd. 
 Were the graced person of our Banquo present ; 
 Who may I rather challenge for uiikindness, 
 Than pity tor mischance! 
 
 /^(/*.vf. His absence, sir, 
 
 Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your 
 
 highness 
 To grace us v\ith your royal company] 
 
 Macb. The table's full. 
 
 J,en. Here's a place reserv'd, sir. 
 
 Macb. Where? 
 
 Len. Here, my lord. What is't that 
 
 moves your highness? 
 
 Macb. Which of you have done this? 
 
 Lords. What, my good lord? 
 
 Macb. Thou canst not say, I did it: never shako 
 Thy gory locks at me. 
 
 Hosse. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well. 
 
 Lady M. Sit, worthy friends; — my lord is often 
 thus, 
 .\nd hath been from his youth: 'pray you, keep seat; 
 The lit is momentary; upon a thought 
 He will again be well: If much you note him. 
 You shall olli^nd him, and extend his passion; 
 Feed, and regard him not. — Are you a man ] 
 
 Macb. Ay, and a bifld one, that dare look on that 
 Which might appal the devil. 
 
 Laily M. O proper stuff! 
 
 This is the very painting of your fear: 
 This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said. 
 Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws,* and starts, 
 (Imjiostors to true fear,) would well become 
 A woman's story, at a winter's fire, 
 Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! 
 Why do you make such faces? When all's done, 
 You look but on a stool, 
 
 Macb. Pr'ythee, see there! behold! look! lo! 
 
 how say you ? 
 
 Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak Ioo,t- 
 
 * Sudden gusts. 
 
274 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 If charnel-houses, and our ^craves, must send 
 
 Those that we bury, hack, our monuments 
 
 Sliall he the maws of kites. [Ghof^t disappears. 
 
 Jji'fy M. What! quite unmannM in folly? 
 
 Mac'). If I stand here, I saw him. 
 
 La'li/ M. Fye, for shame ! 
 
 Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i^the olden 
 time, 
 Ere human statute purged the gentle weal; 
 Ay, and since too, murders have been perlormM 
 Too terrible for the ear: the times have been. 
 That, when the brains were out, the man would die, 
 And there an end: but now, they rise again, 
 With twenty moral murders on their crowns. 
 And push us from our stools : This is more strange 
 Than such a murder is. 
 
 Laiij M. My worthy lord, 
 
 Your noble friends do lack you. 
 
 Mach. ' I do forget: — 
 
 Do not muse' at me, my most worthy friends; 
 I have a strange intirmity, which is nothing 
 To those that know me. Come, love and health 
 to all; 
 
 Then I'll sit down: Give me some wine, fill 
 
 full : 
 
 I drink to the general joy of the whole table, 
 
 Ghost rises. 
 
 And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss: 
 Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, 
 And all to all.* 
 
 Lards. Our duties, and the pledge. 
 
 Macb. A vaunt! andquit my sight! Let the earth 
 hide thee! 
 Thy bones are marrowless^ thy blood is cold; 
 Thou hast no speculation ni those eyea 
 Which thou dost glare with! 
 
 Lady M. Think of this, good peers, 
 
 But as a thing of custom : 'tis no other; 
 Only it spoils the pleasure of the time, 
 
 Macb. What man dare, I dare: 
 Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
 The arm VI rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, 
 Take any sliapo but that, and my trrm nerves 
 Shall never tremble: Or, be alive again, 
 And dare me to the desert with thy sword; 
 If trembling I inhibit^ thee, protest me 
 The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! 
 
 [Ghost disappears. 
 Unreal mockery, hence!— Why so; — being gone, 
 I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still. 
 
 La ly M. You have displaced the mirth, broke the 
 good meeting, 
 With most admired disorder. 
 
 Macb. Can such things be. 
 
 And overcome^ us like a summer's cloud. 
 Without our special wonder] You make me strange 
 Even to the disposition that I owe,^ 
 When now I thnikyou can behold such sights. 
 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
 When mine are blanch'd with fear. 
 
 Rijsse. What sights, my lordl 
 
 Lady M. I pray you, speak not; lie grows worse 
 and worse: 
 Question enrages him: at once, good night; — 
 Stand not upon the order of your going. 
 But go at once. 
 
 Len. Good night, and better health 
 
 Attend his majesty ! 
 
 Lady M, A kind good night to all! 
 
 [Exeunt Lords and- Attendants. 
 
 Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will 
 have blood: 
 Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak; 
 Augurs, and understood relations, have 
 By magot-pies,5and choughs, and rooks, brought 
 
 forth 
 The secret'st man of blood. — What is the night? 
 
 Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which 
 is which. 
 
 Macb. How say''st thou, that Macduff denies his 
 person, 
 At our great bidding? 
 
 Lady M. Did j'ou send to him, sir? 
 
 Macb. I hear it by the way; but I will send: 
 There's not a one of them, but in his liouse 
 
 'Wonder. 
 8 Forbid. 
 ^Posscsa. 
 
 *i. e. All Rooi wishes to all. 
 ^ Pass over. 
 
 I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow 
 
 (Betimes I will,) unto the weird sisters: 
 
 More shall they speak; for now 1 am bent to know 
 
 By the worst means, the worst : for mine own good 
 
 All causes shall give way; I am in blood 
 
 Stept in so far, that, should 1 wade no more. 
 
 Returning were as tedious as go o'er; 
 
 Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; 
 
 Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd.* 
 
 Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. 
 
 Macb. Come, we'll to sleep; JMy strange and 
 self-abuse 
 Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use:— 
 W^e are yet hut young in deed. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE Y.~The Heath. 
 
 Thunder. Enter Hecate, jneetmg the Three 
 Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate] you look an- 
 gerly. 
 
 Hec. Have I not reason, beldams, as you are, 
 Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare 
 To trade and tratlic witlT Macbeth, 
 In riddles and atlairs of death; 
 And I, the mistress of your charms, 
 The close contriver of all harms, 
 Was never call'd to bear my part, 
 Or show the glory of our art \ 
 And, which is worse, all you have done 
 Hath been but for a wayward son. 
 Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do, 
 Loves for his own ends, not for you. 
 But make amends now: Get you gone. 
 And at the pit of Acheron, 
 ^leet me i'the moniing ; thither he 
 Wilt come to know his destiny. 
 Your vessels, and your spells, provide, 
 Your charms, and every thing beside: 
 I am for the air: this night Til spend 
 Unto a dismal-fatal end. 
 Great business must be wrought ere noon ; 
 Upon the corner of the moon 
 There hangs a vaporous drop profound;* 
 ril catch it ere it come to ground: 
 And that distill'd by magic slights, 
 Shall raise such artificial sprites, 
 As, by the strength of their illusion. 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion: 
 He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 
 His hopes 'hove wisdom, grace, and fear: 
 And, you all know, security 
 Is niortaPs chiefest enemy. 
 
 Song. [IVithin.] Co/nr afvay, come awaij^ *^c. 
 Hark, I am call'd: my littli- spirit, sec, 
 Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 
 
 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be 
 back again. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI,— Forres. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Lexox and another Lord. 
 
 Len. My former speeches have but hit your 
 
 thoughts, 
 Which can interpret further: only, I say, 
 Things have been strangely borne: The gracious 
 
 Duncan 
 Was pitied of Macbeth : — marry, he was dead: — 
 And the riiiht-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; 
 Whom, you may say, if it please you, Kleance kill'd, 
 For Fleance tied. Men must not walk too late. 
 Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous 
 It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain, 
 To kill their gracious father? damned fact! 
 How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight 
 In pious rage, the two delinquents tear, 
 That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sl(*ep! 
 Was not that nobly done? Ay. and wisely too; 
 For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive. 
 To hear the men deny it. So that, I say, 
 He has borne all things well: and I do think. 
 That, hath he Duncan's sons under his key, 
 ( As, an't please heaven, he shall not. )they should find 
 What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. 
 But, peace!— for from broad words, and 'cause ho 
 
 fa i I'd 
 His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, 
 
 * Examined nicely. 
 
 ^ I. e. A drop that has deep or hiJtlen qualities. 
 
Act IV. ScEXE I. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 ' Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell 
 Where he bestows himselfl 
 
 L/jrd. The son of Duncan, 
 
 From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, 
 Lives in the English court; and is receivM 
 Of the most pious Edward with such g;racc, 
 That the malevolence of fortune iiothiiis: 
 Takes from his high respect: Thither Macduff 
 Is gone to pray the holy king, on liis aid 
 To wake Northumberland, and warhke Siw-ard: 
 That, by the help of these, (with Him above 
 To ratily the work.) we may again 
 Give to "our table meat, sleep to our nights; 
 Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives; 
 Do taitliful homage and receive tree honors,^ 
 All which" we pine lor now: And this report 
 
 Hath so exasperate the king, thik 
 Prepares for some attempt of waV, 
 
 Len. Sen\ 
 
 Lord. He did: and with an absolo 
 The cloudy messenger turns me his^ 
 And hums; as who should say, Yoii'lh 
 That clogs me with this answer. 
 
 Len. And that^ 
 
 Advise him to a caution, to hold what dis\ 
 His wisdom can provide. Some holy ang 
 Fly to the court of England, and unfold 
 His message ere he comes: That a swift blessing 
 May soon return to this our sullering country 
 Under a hand accursM! 
 
 Jjjrd, My prayers with him! 
 
 [Ea:euni. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.—A licrk Cave. In the mUdle, a Caul- 
 dron boiling. 
 Thunder. Enter the Three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Thrice the hrindert cat hath mew"d. 
 
 2 Witch. Ttirice; and once the hedfce-pi^whincd, 
 
 3 M'itch. Hari)er cries: — 'Tis time, 'tis time. 
 
 1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go; 
 
 In the poisonM entrails throw, 
 
 Toad, that under coldest stone, 
 
 Days and niglits hast thirty-one 
 Swelter'd venom sleeping got. 
 Boil thou first i'the charmed ])0t ! 
 
 All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
 Fire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 2 Witch. Fillet ol'a fenny snake, 
 In the cauldron bod and bake: 
 Kye of newt, and toe of frog. 
 Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, 
 Adder\s fork, and blind-worm's sting, 
 Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing. 
 
 For a charm ol powerl'ul trouble, 
 Like a hell-brolh boil and bubble. 
 
 All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
 Fire, bm'n; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 3 Witch. Scale of dragon, toolh of wolf; 
 Witches' mummy; maw. and gulf,' 
 
 Of the ravin'd" salt-sea shark; 
 Root of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark; 
 Liver of blaspheming Jew; 
 Gall of goat, and slips of yew, 
 Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse; 
 Nose ot Turk, and Tartar's lips ; 
 Finger of birth-strangled babe, 
 Ditch-delivcr'd by a drab. 
 Make the gruel thick and slab: 
 Add thereto a tiger's chaudron. 
 For the ingredients of our cauldron. 
 
 A/l. Doul)Ie, double toil and trouble; 
 Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 a Witcli. Cool It with a baboon's blood, 
 Then the charm is tirm and good 
 
 Enter Hecate. 
 Hec. 0, well done! I commend your pains; 
 And every one shall share i'the gaijis. 
 And now about the cauldron sing. 
 Like elves and fairies in a ring, 
 Enchanting all that ycu put in. 
 
 SONG. 
 Black spirits and white. 
 
 Blue spirits and grey; 
 Mitigte, mingle, mingle. 
 
 You that mingle maij. 
 
 a. Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs, 
 Something wicked this way comes: 
 Open locks, whoever luiocks. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midjiight 
 hags] • 
 
 What is't you do1 
 All. 
 
 "Honors freely bestowed 
 f Ravenous 
 
 A deed without a name. 
 
 ' The thro.1t. 
 
 Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess, 
 (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me: 
 Though you initie the winds, and let them fight 
 Against the churches; though the ycsty waves 
 Conlbund and swallow navigation up; 
 Though bladed corn be lodg'd" and trees blown 
 
 down ; 
 Though castle-s topple' on their warders' heads; 
 Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope 
 Theirlieads to their foundations; though the treasure 
 f>f nature's germins' tumble all together, 
 Even till destruction sicken, answer me 
 To what I ask you. 
 
 1 Witch. Speak. 
 
 a Witch. Demand. 
 
 :i Witch. We'll answer. 
 
 1 Witch. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our 
 mouths. 
 Or from our masters'! 
 
 Macb. Call them, let me see them. 
 
 1 Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten 
 Her nine farrow; grease, that's sweaten 
 From the murderer's gibbet, throw 
 Into the flame. 
 
 All. Come, high or low; 
 
 Thyself, and olhcc, deftly = show. 
 
 Thunder. An Apparition o/o/i armed Head m«. 
 
 Macb. Tell me, thou unknown pow»r, 
 
 1 Witch. He knows thy thought; 
 
 Hear his speech, but say thou nought. 
 Ajip. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware 
 Macdutf; 
 Beware the thane of Fife. — Dismiss me: — Enough. 
 
 [Descendt: 
 Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution 
 thanks; 
 Thou has harp'd* my fear aright:— But one word 
 more. — 
 t Witch. He will not be commanded: Here's 
 another. 
 More potent than the first. 
 
 Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Cliild riies. 
 
 App. M.acboth! Macbeth! Macbeth! — 
 
 Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. 
 
 App. Be bloody, bold. 
 
 And resolute: laugh to scorn the power of man. 
 For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. 
 
 [Descends. 
 
 Macb. Then live, MacdufT: What need I fear cf 
 thee? 
 But yet I'll make assurance douBly sure, 
 Auil'take a bond of fiitc: thou shalt not live; 
 That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies. 
 And sleep in spite of thunder. — VVhat is this. 
 
 Thunder. An Apparition rf a Child crowned, 
 irith a tree in his hand, rises. 
 
 That rises like the issue of a king; 
 
 And wears upon his baby brow the round 
 
 And top of sovereigntyl 
 
 All. Listen, but speak not. 
 
 s Laid flat by wind or rain. ' Tumble. 
 
 2. Seeds which have Itegun to sprout. ^Adroitly. 
 
 * Touched on a iiassion as a harper touches a string. 
 
274 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 App. Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no cave 
 Who chates, who frets, or where consjiirers are: 
 ]\Iacbeth shall never vanquisird be, until 
 Great liirnam wood to higli Dunsinane hill 
 Shall come against him. [Deseenils. 
 
 Much. That will never be: 
 
 Who can impress the forest; bid the tree 
 Uiitix his earth-bound root? sweet bodemcnts! good! 
 licliellious he;id, rise never, till the wood 
 Or"Birn;iTn ris;% and our high-placed Macbeth 
 Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath 
 To time and mortal custom. — Yet my lieart 
 Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, (if your art 
 Can tell so much.) shall Banquo's issue ever 
 lieiguin this kingdom! 
 
 All. Seek to know no more. 
 
 Macb. I will be satisfied : deny me this, 
 And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know: — 
 Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? 
 
 [Haut'jnys. 
 
 1 IFj/rt. Show! 2 Witch. Shm\\n Jfilc/t. Show! 
 
 AU. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; 
 Come like shadow's, so depart. 
 Ki^ht Kinf^s appear, ami pa-is over the stage in 
 
 onler; the last with a g/m« in his hand; Bax- 
 
 qvofolluwing. 
 
 Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; 
 down ! 
 Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls: — And thy hair. 
 Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the lirst: — 
 A third is like the former:— Filthy ha;s! 
 ■\V'hy do you show me this !— A fourth !— Start, eyes! 
 What! will the line stretchout to the crack of doom? 
 Another yet? — A seventh? — V\\ see no more; — 
 And yet the eightli appears, who bears a glass, 
 AVhich shows me many more: and some 1 see, 
 That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry: 
 Horrible sight! — Ay, now, I see, 'tis true; 
 For the blood-boIter\l^ Banquo smiles upon me, 
 And points at them for his. — What, is this so? 
 
 1 I fitch. Ay, sir, all this is so:— But why 
 Stands Macbeth thus amazedlyT — 
 Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, 
 And show the best of our delights; 
 I'll charm the air to give a sound, 
 AVhile vou perform your antique round: 
 That this great king may kindly say, 
 Our duties did his welcome pay. 
 
 [Music. The Witches dance, and vaniih. 
 
 Macb. Where are tliey? Gone?— Let this per- 
 nicious hour 
 Stand aye accursed in the calendar!— 
 Come in, without there! 
 
 Enter Lenox. 
 
 Len. What's your grace's will? 
 
 Macb. Saw you the weird sisters? 
 
 Len. No, my lord. 
 
 Macb. Came they not by yon? 
 
 J^en. No, indeed, my lord. 
 
 Macb. Infected he the air whereon they ride; 
 And damn'd.all those that trust them ! — 1 did hear 
 The galloping of horses: Who was't came by? 
 
 Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you 
 word, 
 MacdulTis fled to England. 
 
 Macb. Fled to England ? 
 
 Len. Av, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st« my dread exploits: 
 The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, 
 Unless the deed go with it: From this moment, 
 Tlie very firstlings of my heart shall be 
 The firstlings of my hand. And even now 
 To crown niy thoughts with acts, be it thought and 
 
 done : 
 The castle of Macdufl'I will surprise; 
 Seize upon Fif§; (^ve to the edge o'the sword 
 His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls 
 That trace his line. No boasting like a fool: 
 This deed FU do. before this purpose cool: 
 But no more sights! — Where are these gentlemen? 
 Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— Fife. A Room in MacdulTs Castte. 
 Enter Ladij Macduff, her Son, and Rosse. 
 L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the 
 
 land ! 
 * Besmeared with Mood. 
 •^ PreTenie^t, by taking away the oitportanity. 
 
 Rosse. You must have patience, madam. 
 
 L. Macd. He had none: 
 
 His flight was madness: When our actions do not, 
 Our fears do make us traitors. 
 
 Rosse. You know not, 
 
 WJietber it was his wisdom or his fear. 
 
 L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his 
 babes, 
 His mansion, and his titles, in a place 
 From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; 
 He wants the natural touch: for tlie poor wren. 
 The most diminutive of birds, will fight. 
 Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. 
 All is the fear, and nothing is the love, 
 As little is the wisdom, where the flight 
 So runs against all reason. 
 
 Rosse. ■ My dearest coz, 
 
 1 pray you, scliool yourself: But, for your husband. 
 He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows 
 Tlie fits o'the season. I dare not speak much further 
 But cruel are the times, when we are traitors, 
 And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor 
 From what we fear, yet know not what we fear; 
 But float upon a wild and violent sea. 
 Each way, and move. — I take my leave of you: 
 Shall not be long but I'll be here again; 
 Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward 
 To what tliey were before. — My pretty cousin. 
 Blessing upon you ! 
 
 L. Mad. Father'd he is. and yet he's fatherless. 
 
 Rosse. I am so much a Ibol, should 1 stay longer. 
 It would be my disgrace, and your discomtbrt: 
 I lake my leave at once. [Exit RosSE. 
 
 L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead; 
 
 And what will you do now? How will you live? 
 
 Son. As birds do, mother. 
 
 /,. ^nc'l. What, with worms and flics? 
 
 Nun. With what I get, I mean; and so do they, 
 
 L. Macd. Poor bird! Ihou'dst never fear the net, 
 nor lime. 
 The pit-fall, nor the gin. 
 
 Hun. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they 
 are not set tor. 
 My father is not dead, for all your saying. 
 
 L. Macd. Y"cs, he is dead; iiow wilt thou do for 
 a father? 
 
 Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband? 
 
 L. Mucd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any 
 market. 
 
 Son. Tiien you'll buy 'em to sell again. 
 
 L. Macb. Thou speak'st with all thy wit; and 
 yet, i'liiith. 
 With wit enough for thee. 
 
 Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? 
 
 L. Macd. Ay,'tliat he was. 
 
 Son. What is a traitor? 
 
 L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. 
 
 Son. And he all traitors, tliat do so? 
 
 L. Macd. Every one that docs so is a traitor, and 
 must be hanged. 
 
 Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear 
 and lie? 
 
 L. Macd. Every one. 
 
 Son. Who must hang them? 
 
 L. Mac'l. Why, the honest men. 
 
 Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: for 
 there are liars and swearers enough to beat tho 
 honest men, and hang up them. 
 
 L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! 
 But how wilt thftu do for a father? 
 
 So?i. Ifhe weredead, you'd weep for him: if you 
 would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly 
 iiave a new liither. 
 
 L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Bless you, fair daine! I am not to you known. 
 Though in vour state of honor I am perfect.' 
 1 doubt, some danger does approach you nearly: 
 if you will take a homely man's advice. 
 Be" not found here; hence, with your little ones. 
 To fright you thus, inethinks, I am too savage; 
 To do worse to you, were fell cruelty. 
 Which is to nigh your i)crson. Heaven preserve 
 
 ■, you! 
 I dare abide no longer. [E.vit Messenger 
 
 ;,. Marl. Whither should I fly? 
 
 1 have done no harm. But I remember now 
 
 ' I am perfectly acquainted with your rank. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 1277 
 
 I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm, 
 Is often laudable: to do ijood, sometimes, 
 ■ Accounted dani^erous folly: Why, then, alas! 
 Co I put up that womanly defence, 
 
 To say, I have done no harm? What are these 
 
 iaces ! 
 
 Enter Murderers. 
 Mur. Where is your husband ? 
 L. Macd. I hope, in no place so imsanctified, 
 Where such as thou mayst find him. 
 Mur, He's a traitor. 
 
 Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-oarM villain, 
 J/ur What, you egg? {Stabbing him. 
 
 Young fry of treachery ! 
 
 Sou. . He has killed me, mother; 
 
 Run away, I pray you. ' [Dies. 
 
 [Exit Lwiy Macduff, crying Murder, 
 and pursued by the Alurderers, 
 
 SCENE III.— England. A Room in the King's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and Macduff. 
 
 Mat. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and 
 there 
 Weep our sad bosoms empty. 
 
 Macd. Let us rather 
 
 Hold fast the moral sword; and, like good men. 
 Bestride our downfall'n birthdom: Each new mom. 
 New widows iiowl ; new orphans cry ; new sorrows 
 Strike heaven on tlie face, that it resounds 
 As if it felt with Scotland, and yeilM out 
 Like syllable of dolor. 
 
 Mat. What I believe. Til wail; 
 
 What know, believe; and, what I can redress, 
 As I shall find Uie time to friend,^ I will. 
 What you have spoke, it may be ?o, perchance. 
 This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues. 
 Was once thought honest: you have love'd him well ; 
 He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but 
 
 something 
 You may deserve of iiim tlirough me; and wisdom 
 To ofier up a weak, poor, iiuiocent Iamb, 
 To appease an angry god. 
 
 Mad. I am not treaclierous. 
 
 Mat. But Macbeth is. 
 
 A good and virtues nature may recoil. 
 In an imperial charge.'* But crave your pardon; 
 That which you are, my t ho ui,'lits cannot transpose: 
 Angels are bright still, tliou;;'b the brightest tell: 
 Thoughallthingsfoul would bear the browsof grace. 
 Yet grace must stiii look so. 
 
 Macd. I have lost my hopes. 
 
 Mai. Perchance, even there, wliere 1 cUd hnd 
 my doubts. 
 Why in tliat rawness left your wife, and child, 
 (Tliose precious motives, those strong notes of love,) 
 Without ieave-taking ? — I pray you, 
 Let not my jealousies be your dishonors, 
 But mine own safeties:— You may be rightly just. 
 Whatever I shall think. 
 
 Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country. 
 
 Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, 
 For goodness dares not check thee ! wear thou thy 
 
 wroni^s. 
 Thy title is atti?erM!i— Fare thee well, lord: 
 I would not be the villain that thou think'st 
 For the whole space that's in the tyrant''s grasp, 
 And the rich East to boot. 
 
 Mat. Be not offended : 
 
 I speak not as in an absolute fear of you. 
 I think our country sinks beneath the yoke. 
 It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash 
 Is added to her wounds: I think, withal,^ 
 There would be hands uplifted in mv riL:ht; 
 And here from gracious England, have 1 otVer 
 Of goodly thousands: But. for all this, 
 Wl en I shall tread upon the tjrant^s head. 
 Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country 
 Shall have more vices than it had before; 
 More suller, and more sundry ways than ever, 
 By him that siiall succeed. 
 
 Macd. Wliat should he be? 
 
 Mat. It is myself I mean: in whom I know 
 
 8 Befriend. 
 
 ^i. e. A good mind may recede from goodness in the 
 execution of a royal commission. 
 
 'Legally settled by those who had the final adjudica- 
 tion. 
 
 All the particulars of vice so grafted, 
 Tliat, when they shall be openM, black Macbeth 
 Will seem as pure as snow; and the poor state 
 Esteem him as a lamb, being compared 
 With my conlineless harms. 
 
 Macd. Not in the legions 
 
 Of horrid hell, can come a devil more danin'd 
 In evils, to top Macbeth. 
 
 Mai, I grant him bloody. 
 
 Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, 
 Sudden,* malicious, smacking of every sin 
 That has a name. But there's no bottom, none, 
 In my voluptuousness; your wives, yoiirdaughters, 
 Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up 
 The cistern of my lust; and my desire 
 All continent impediments would o'er-bear, 
 That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth, 
 Than such a one to reign. 
 
 Macd, Boundless intemperance 
 
 In nature is a tyranny; it hath been 
 The untimely emptying of the happj- throne, 
 And fait of many kings. But fear not yet 
 To take upon you what is yours: you may 
 Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty. 
 And yet seem cold, the time you may so hood-wink. 
 We have willing dames enough; there cannot be 
 That vulture in you, to devour so many 
 As will to greatness dedic4ite tiicmselves, 
 Finding it so inchnM. 
 
 Ma!. With tliis, there grows, 
 
 In my most ill-compos'd afTection, such 
 A stanchless avarice, that, were I king, 
 I should cut oll'the nobles for their lands; 
 Desire his jewels, and this other's house: 
 And my niore-liaving would be as a sauce 
 To make me hunger more; that I should forge 
 Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,"' 
 Destroying ihem for wealth. 
 
 Macd. This avarice 
 
 Stitvloi deeper; grows with more pernicious root 
 Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been 
 The sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear; 
 Scotland hath foysons^ to fill up your will, 
 Of your mere own: All these are portable,'* 
 With other graces weigh'd. 
 
 Mat. But I have none: The king-becoming giaces, 
 As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
 Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
 Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
 1 have no relisli of them; but abound 
 In the division of each several crime, 
 Actin:; in many ways. Nay, had I power, I should 
 Pour tiic sweet milk of concord into hell, 
 I proar the universal peace, confound 
 All unity on earth. 
 
 Macd. O Scotland ! Scotland ! 
 
 Mat. If such a one be tit to govern, speak: 
 I am as I have spoken. 
 
 Macd.. Fit to govern! 
 
 No, not to live. — O nation miserable. 
 With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred. 
 When shall tliou see thy wholesome days again'? 
 Siuce that the truest issue of thy throne 
 By his own iiilenlietifin stands accursM, 
 And does blasptinne his breed ! — Thy royal father 
 Wasamost sainted king; the queen, that bore thee, 
 Oftner upon her knees than on her feet, 
 Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! 
 These evils, tfiou repeat'st upon thyself, 
 Have banishM me from Scotland. — 0, my breast, 
 Thy hope ends here! 
 
 Ma/. Macdull', this noble passion, 
 Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
 Wiped the black-scruples, reconciled mv thoughts 
 To the good truth and honor. Devlish Macbeth 
 By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
 Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks nic 
 From over-credulous haste :^ But God above 
 Deal between thee and me! for even now 
 I i)ut my self to thy direction, and* 
 L'nspeak mine own detraction: here abjure 
 TJie taints and blames I laid upon myself, 
 For strangers to my nature. 1 am yet 
 Unknown to woman; never was forsworn; 
 Scarcely have coveted what was mine own; 
 At no time broke my faith; would not betray 
 Tlie devil to his fellow; and delight 
 
 8 Pnssiniiatp. 
 
 * May be endured. 
 
 s Plenty. 
 
 8 Over-hasty credulity. 
 
278 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 No less in truth than life: my first false speaking 
 Was this upon myself: What I am truly, 
 Is thine, and ray poor country's, to command: 
 Whither, indeed, before thy here approach. 
 Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, 
 All ready at a point, was setting forth : 
 Now well together; and the chance of goodness. 
 Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent'! 
 Mad. Such welcome and unwelcome things at 
 once, 
 'Tis liard to reconcile. 
 
 EnliT a Doctor. 
 Mai. Well; more anon.— Comes the king fortli, 
 I pray you! 
 
 Duel. Ay, eir: there area crew of wretched souls 
 That stay liis cure: their malady convinces" 
 Tiic L;ieat :issay of art : but, at liis touch, 
 Sucirs:ii](lilv hath heaven given his hand, 
 Thev iHcseutly amend. 
 
 ])^aL I thank you, doctor. 
 
 [Exit Doctor. 
 
 Macd. What's the disease he means] 
 
 Mai. 'Tis call'd the evil: 
 
 A most miraculous work in this good king; 
 Wliich often, since my here-remain in England, 
 I have seen hira do. How he solicits licavcn. 
 Himself best knows; but strangely visited people. 
 All swoln and ulcerous, pitii'ul Co the eye, 
 The mere despair of surgery, he cures; 
 Hanging the golden stamp' about their necks 
 Put on with holy prayer: and 'tis spoken, 
 To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
 Tlie healing benediction. With this strange virtue, 
 He had a heavenly gift of prophecy; 
 And siniiliy blessing's hang about his throne, 
 That s|K".ik liiin full ol' grace. 
 
 Enler Rosse. 
 
 MaCfK See, who comes here? 
 
 Mul. My countryman; but yet 1 know him -not. 
 
 Mac I. .'My ever.geiUle cousin, welcome hither. 
 
 Mai. 1 know him now: Good God, betimes remove 
 The means that make us strangers! 
 
 Rmse. Sir, Amen. 
 
 Macd. Stands Scotland where it did] 
 
 Rosse. Alas, poor country: 
 
 Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot 
 Be call'd our mother, but our grave : where nothing. 
 But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; 
 Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rent the air. 
 Are made, not mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems 
 A modern ecstacy;' the dead man's knell 
 Is there scarce ask'd, for who ; and good men's lives 
 Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
 Dying, or ere they sicken. 
 
 Macd. 0, relation, 
 
 Too nice, and yet too true! 
 
 Mai. What is the newest grief! 
 
 Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss tile speaker. 
 Each minute teems a new one. 
 
 Macd. How does my wife i 
 
 Rnssc. Why, well. 
 
 Macd. And all my children 7 
 
 Rosse. Well too. 
 
 Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ! 
 
 Rosse. No; they were well at peace, when I did 
 leave them. 
 
 Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech ; How 
 goes itl 
 
 Rosse. When I camehither to transport the tidings. 
 Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor 
 Of many worthy fellows that were out- 
 
 Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, 
 For that I saw tlie Ivrant's power a-foot: 
 Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland 
 Would create soldiers, make our women fight, 
 To doll's their dire distresses. 
 
 Mai. Be it their comfort, 
 
 We are coming hither: gracious England hath 
 Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men; 
 An older, and a better soldier none 
 That Christendom gives out. 
 
 Rosse. Would I could answer 
 
 This comfort with the like! But I have worda 
 That would be howi'd out in the desert air. 
 Where hearing should not latch' them. 
 
 Macd. What concerns they! 
 
 Tliat general cause] or is it a fee-grief,= 
 Due to some single breast] 
 
 Rosse. No mind that's honest, 
 
 But in it shares some woe: though the main part 
 Pertains to you alone. 
 
 Macd. Ifitbemine, 
 
 Keep it not from me. quickly let me have it. 
 
 Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, 
 Wliicli shall possess them with the heaviest sound, 
 That ever yet they heard. 
 Macd. Humph ! I guess at it. 
 
 ijossc. Your cas tie issurpris'd; your wile and babes. 
 Savagely slaughter'd! to relate the manner. 
 Were, on the quarry' of these murder'd deer, 
 To add the death of you. 
 
 Mai. Merciful heaven !— 
 
 What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ; 
 Give sorrow words; the grief that docs not speak. 
 Whispers the o'er-frauglit heart, and bids it break. 
 Macd. My cliildren too ] 
 
 Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all 
 
 That could be found. 
 
 Mat.d. And I must be from thence! 
 
 My wife kiU'd too ] 
 Rosse. I have said. 
 
 Mai. Be comforted: 
 
 Let's make us.mcd'cines of our great revenge. 
 To cure this deadly grief. 
 
 Macd. He has no children.— All my pretty ones! 
 Did you say, all]— 0, hell-kite!— All ! 
 What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, 
 At one fell swoop ] 
 Mai. Dispute it like a man. 
 Macd. I shall do so; 
 
 But I must also feel it as a man: 
 I cannot but remember such things were. 
 That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, 
 And would not take their pant Sinful Macdutf, 
 They were all struck lor thee! naught that I am, 
 Not for their own demerits, but for mine. 
 Fell slaughter ou their souls: Heaven rest them now! 
 Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief 
 Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 
 Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes. 
 
 And braggard with my tongue! But, gentle 
 
 heaven, 
 Cut short all intermission; front to front. 
 Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; 
 Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape. 
 Heaven forgive him too! 
 
 Mai. This tune goes manly. 
 
 Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; 
 Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth 
 Is ripe for shaking^ and tlie powers aliove 
 Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you 
 
 may; 
 The night is long that never finds the day. [E.veunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentle- 
 woman. 
 
 Bod. I have two nights watched with you, but 
 can perceive no truth in your report. When was 
 it she last walked] 
 
 Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have 
 
 " Overpowers, subdues. ' The coin called an angel. 
 9 Common distress of mind. 
 
 seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown 
 upon her, unlock her closet, take forth pajier, fold 
 it, write upon it, read it. afterwards seal it. and again 
 return to bod: yet all this while in a most liist sleep. 
 Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive 
 at once the benefit of sleep, and do the efiects ot 
 watching.— In this slumbry agitation, besides her 
 
 oputofr 'Catch. 
 
 2 A grief that has a single owner. 
 'The game after it is kiUsd. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 279 
 
 walking, and otlicr actual penr'mance. what, at 
 any time, have you heard her say ' 
 Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her. 
 Doct. You may, to me; and 'tis most meet jou 
 should. 
 
 Genf. Neither to you, nor any one; havmg no 
 witness to confirm my speech. 
 
 Enter Lathj Macbeth, ivUh a Taper. 
 Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise : 
 and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand 
 close. 
 Doct. How came she by that lighti 
 Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by 
 her continually; 'tis lier command. 
 Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 
 Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 
 Duct. What is it she does now 7 Look, how slie 
 rubs her hands. 
 
 Cent. It is an accustomed action with her, to 
 seem thus washing her hands; I have known her 
 continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
 Lady M. Yet here's a spot. 
 
 Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what 
 comes frozii her, to satisfy my remembrance the 
 more strongly. 
 Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say! One; 
 
 Two: Why, then 'tis time to do't: Hell is 
 
 murky!*— Fye, my lord, fyc! a soldier, and afear'd? 
 What need we tear who knows it, when none can 
 call our powers to account !— Yet who would have 
 thougiit the old man to have had so much blood in 
 himi 
 Doct. Do you mark that? 
 Lad:/ M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where 
 
 is she' now! What, will these hands ne'er be 
 
 clean ! — No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that: 
 you mar all willi tliis starting. 
 
 Doct, Go to, go to; you have known what you 
 should not. 
 
 Genfr She has spoke what she should not, I am 
 
 BUreofthat: Heaven knows what she has known. 
 
 Ladi/ M. Here's the smell of the blood still : all 
 
 the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little 
 
 hand. Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely 
 charged. 
 
 Gent. I wouldnot liavesucha heart in my bosom, 
 for the dii^nity of the whole bod}'. 
 Doct. Well, well, well,— 
 Genf. "Prav (."d. il be, sir. 
 
 Doel. Tills disease is beyond my practice: Yet 1 
 have known those which have walked in their sleep, 
 who have died holily in their beds. 
 
 Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night- 
 gown;' look not so pale: I tell you yet again, Ban- 
 quo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. 
 Doct. Even so? 
 
 Ladij M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at 
 
 the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your 
 
 hand: What's done, cannot be undone: To bed, to 
 
 bed, to bed. [Ej^it Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Doct. Will she go now to bed? 
 
 Gent. Directly. 
 
 Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad ; Unnatural 
 deeds 
 Do breed unnatur.nl troubles: Infected minds 
 To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. 
 More needs she the divine, than the physician.— 
 God, God. forgive us all ! Look after her; 
 Ilomove from her the means of all annoyance. 
 And still kci'p eyes upon her:— So, good-night: 
 My mind she has mated,' and amaz'd my sight: 
 I think, but dare not speak. 
 
 Oint. Good-night, good doctor. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n.—TAe Country near Dunsinane. 
 
 Enter, wUk drum and Cotrjrs, Men'teth, Cathsess, 
 Lesox, Angcs, and Soldiers. 
 
 Ment. The English power is near, led on by 
 Malcolm, 
 His uncle Siwarcl, and the good Macduff. 
 Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes 
 Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm, 
 Excite the mortified man." 
 
 Ang. Near Birnam wood 
 
 Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. 
 
 •Dark 'Confounded "A religious; an ascetic. 
 
 TaM. Who knowsilDonalbainbe with his brother? 
 
 Lin. For certain, sir, he is not; I have a file 
 Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son. 
 And many unrough' youths that even now 
 Protest their first of manhood. 
 
 Blent. What does the tyrant? 
 
 Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: 
 Some say, he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, 
 Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain. 
 He camiot buckle his distemper'd cause 
 Within the belt of rule. 
 
 Ang. Now does he feel 
 
 His secret murders sticking on his hands ; 
 Now minutely revolts upbraid his taith-breaeh; 
 Those he conimands, move only in command. 
 Nothing in love: now does he leel his title 
 Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe 
 Upon a dwarfish thief. 
 
 Ment. Who then shall blame 
 
 His ])ester'd senses to recoil and start. 
 When all that is within him does condemn 
 Itself, for being there? 
 
 Cat/i. WeU, march we on, 
 
 To give obedience where 'tis truly ow'd: 
 Meet we the medecin* of the sickly weal ; 
 And with him pour we, in our country's purge, 
 Each drop of us. 
 
 Len. Or so much as it needs, 
 
 To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. 
 Make we our march towards Birnam. 
 
 [Exeunt, marching- 
 
 SCENE III.— Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. 
 
 Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them flj' all; 
 Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, 
 I canno't taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? 
 Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know 
 All mortal consequents, pronounced me thus: 
 Fear not, Macbeth; no man, thaVs born of woman, 
 
 Shalt c'fr have power on thee. Then Hy, talse 
 
 thanes. 
 And mingle with the English epicures: 
 The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear. 
 Shall never sagg'" w'lth doubt, nor shake with fear. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!' 
 Where gott'st thou that goose look! 
 
 Serve. There is ten thousand 
 
 Macb. Geese, villain! 
 
 Serv. Soldiers, sir. 
 
 Macb. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, 
 Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, paten?'' 
 Death of Ihy soul! those linen checks of thine 
 Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whej-face? 
 
 Serv. The English force, so please you. 
 
 Macb. Take thy face hence.— Seyton!— I am sick 
 at heart, 
 When I behold— Seyton, I say!— This push 
 Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. 
 I have liv'd long enough: my May of life 
 Is laH'n into the sear," the yellow leaf: 
 And that which should accompany old age, 
 As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
 I must not look to have; but, in their stead. 
 Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, 
 Which the poor heart would lain deny, but dare not. 
 Seyton! 
 
 Enter Seyton. 
 
 Sey. Wliat is your gracious pleasure? 
 Macb. What news more? 
 
 Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was re- 
 ported. 
 Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh bo 
 liack'd. 
 Give me my armor. 
 Sei/. 'Tis not needed yet. 
 
 Miicb. I'll put it on. 
 Seud out more horses, skirr* the country round; 
 Hang those that talk of tear.- Give me mine ar- 
 mor. — 
 How does your iiatient, doctor? 
 Doct. Not so sick, my lord, 
 
 'Unbeardeil. exbe physician. 'Sink. 
 
 » Base fellow. ' An aprellation of contemiit. 
 
 3 Dry. 'Scour. 
 
280 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 As she is troubled with thicl<-coming fancies, 
 That keep lier from licr rest. 
 
 Mach, Cure her of that; 
 
 Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ; 
 PIucIv from tile memory a rooted sorrow ; 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain, 
 And with some sweet, oblivious antidote, 
 Cleanse tlie stuft'd bosoin of that perilous stutl, 
 Which weiglis upon the heart? 
 
 Dud. Therein the patient 
 
 Must miiiister to himself. 
 
 Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. — 
 Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff. — 
 Scyton, send out. — Doctor, the thanes Hy from me: — 
 Come, sir, despatch: — If thou couldst, doctor, cast 
 The water of my land, find her disease. 
 And purge it to a sound and pristine health, 
 I would applaud thee to the very echo. 
 That should applaud again. — PuUH otf, I sny.^ 
 What 'hubarb, senna, or what purgative drug. 
 Would scour those English hence! — Hearestthou 
 of them 1 
 
 Boot. Ay. my good lord; your royal preparation 
 Maixes us hear something. 
 
 iM'ir'i. Bring it after me. 
 
 I will not lie afraid of death and bane. 
 
 Till liirnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit. 
 
 Dnrl. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, 
 Protit again siiould iiardly draw me here. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE YV .—Counirij near Dunsinane. A Wood 
 in view. 
 
 Enter, untti Drum and Colors, Malcolm, old Si- 
 ward an I Ai.s Son, .Macdl'ff, Mexteth, Cath.n'ess, 
 Angus, Lenox, Rosse, and Soldiers, marctii/ig. 
 
 Mai. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand 
 Tliat ciiambers will be sale. 
 
 Ment. We doubt it nothing. 
 
 Silo. What wood is tliis before us? 
 
 Ment. The wood of Birnam. 
 
 Hal. Let every soldier hew liim down a bough. 
 And bear't before him ; thereby shall we shadow 
 The numbers of our host, and make discovery 
 Err in report of us. 
 
 Sold. It sliall be done. 
 
 Siiv. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant 
 Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure 
 Our setting down bcfore't. 
 
 Mai. 'Tis his main hope: 
 
 For where there is advantage to be given. 
 Both more and less' have given him the revolt; 
 And none serve with him but constrained things. 
 Whose hearts are absent too. 
 
 Maed. Let our just censures 
 
 Attend the true event, and put we on 
 Industrious soldiership. 
 
 Siw. The time approaclies, 
 
 That will with due decision make us know 
 What we sliall say we have, and what we owe. 
 Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate; 
 But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: 
 Towards which, advance the war. 
 
 [E.teiinf, marching. 
 
 SCENE v.— Dunsinane. Wii/dn t/ie Castle. 
 
 Enter, with Drums and Colors, Macbeth, Seyto.n, 
 and Soldiers. 
 
 Macb. Hang out our banners on the outward 
 walls; 
 The cry is still. They come: Our castle's strength 
 Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them he, 
 Till famine, and ague, cat them up: 
 Were Ihey not forced with those that sliould be ours, 
 We might have met them dareful. beard to beard. 
 And beat them backward home. What is that noise! 
 [A cry within of women. 
 
 Sei/. It is the cry of woman, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: 
 The time has been, niy senses would have cool'd 
 To hear a night-shriek; and my fell" of hair 
 Would at a dismal freatise rouse, and stir 
 As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; 
 Direness, (iimiliar to my slaught'rous thoughts, 
 Cannot once start me.— Wherefore was that cry? 
 
 Sei/. The queen, my lord, is dead. 
 
 Macb. Slie sliould have died hereafter; 
 
 *). c. Greater ami lesg. "Skin. 
 
 There would have been a time for such a word. — 
 
 To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
 
 Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
 
 To the last syllable of recorded time; 
 
 And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
 
 The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 
 
 Lile's but a walking sluulow; a poor player. 
 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
 
 And then is heard no more; it is a taie 
 
 Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
 
 Signifying nothing. 
 
 Enter a Messenger 
 ■Thou corn'st to use thy tongue; thy story quicKjy 
 
 Mess. Gracious my lord, 
 I shall report that which 1 say I saw, 
 But know not liow to do it. 
 
 Macb, Well, say, sir. 
 
 Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, 
 I look'd toward Birnam. and anon, methought, 
 The wood began to move. 
 
 Macb. Liar, and slave ! 
 
 [Sti-iking hint. 
 
 Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so; 
 Within this three mile may you see it coming; 
 I say, a moving grove. 
 
 Macb. If thou speak'st folse, 
 
 Upon the next tree shall thou hang alive. 
 Till famine cling' thee; if tliy speech be sooth, 
 I care not if tliou dost lor me as mucli.— 
 I pull in resolution; and begin 
 To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, 
 Tliat lies like truth : Fear not till Birnam wood 
 Du come to Dunsinane ,■ — and now a wood 
 Comes toward Dunsinane. — Arm, arm, and out. — ■ 
 If this which he avouciies, does appear. 
 There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. 
 I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun, 
 Ai id wish the estate of the world were now undone.— 
 Ring tlie alarum bell: — Blow wind! come, wrack! 
 At least we'll die witii harness on our back. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE VI.— .4 Plain before the Castle. 
 
 Enter, with Drums and Colors, Malcolsi, old Si- 
 ward, Macduff, i^-c, and their Army, with 
 Boughs. 
 
 Mai. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw 
 down. 
 And show like those you are: — You, worthy uncle, 
 Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, 
 Lead our first battle; worthy i.Iacduft", and we, 
 Shall take upon us what else remains to do, 
 According to our order. 
 
 Siw. Fare you well. — 
 
 Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night. 
 Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. 
 Mttcd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them 
 all breath. 
 Those clamorous harbingers of blood and deatli. 
 [Exeunt. Alarums continued. 
 
 SCENE VII.— Another Part of ttie Plain. 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 Macb. They have f led me to a stake: I cannot fly, 
 But, bear-like, I must light tlic course.— Whafs he, 
 That was not born of woman? Such a one 
 Am I to fear, or none. 
 
 Enter young Siward. 
 Yn. Siw. What is thy name? 
 Macb. Tliou'lt be afraid to hear it. 
 
 Yo. Siw. No; thougli thou call'st thyself a hotter 
 name 
 Than any is in hell. 
 Macb. My name's Macbeth. 
 
 Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce 
 a title 
 More hateful to mine ear. 
 Macb. No, nor more fearful. 
 
 Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my 
 sword 
 I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. 
 
 [They fight , and young Siward is slain. 
 Macb, Thou wast oorn of v.oman. — 
 
 But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn. 
 Braudish'd bj- man that's of a woman born. [Exit^ 
 ' Shrivel. 
 
Scene VII. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 281 
 
 AlarutiLS. Enter Macduff. 
 
 Mad. That way the noise is: — TjTant, show thy 
 face : 
 If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine. 
 My wile and chiidren's i^hosts will haunt nic still. 
 1 cannot strike at wretched kernes,^ whose arms 
 Are hired to bear their staves; either tliou, Macbeth, 
 Or else my sword, with an unbatterM edge, 
 I sheath again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; 
 By this great clatter, one of greatest note 
 •Seems bruited:" Let me find him, fortune! 
 And more I beg not. [Exit. Alarum. 
 
 Eiiter Malcolm and old Siward. 
 
 Siw. This way, my lord; — the castle's gently 
 render'd: 
 The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; 
 The noble thanes do bravely in the war; 
 The daj- almost itself protesses yours, 
 And little is to do. 
 
 Mul. We have met with foes 
 
 That strike beside us. 
 
 Siw Enter, sir, the castle. 
 
 [Exeunt. Alarum. 
 Re-enter Macbeth. 
 
 Much. Why should 1 play the Roman fool, and die 
 On mine own swurd ! whiles I sec lives, the gashes 
 Do better upon tlieuj. 
 
 Re-enter JIacdcff. 
 
 Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn. 
 
 Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee: 
 But get thee back, my soul is too much charged 
 With blood of thine already. 
 
 Macd. I have no words, 
 
 My voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain 
 Than terms can give thee out! [Tfiei/ fight. 
 
 Macb. Thou loscst labor: 
 
 As easy maj'st thou the intrenchant air' 
 With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed: 
 Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; 
 I bear a charmed life, which must not yield 
 To one of woman born. 
 
 Macd. Despair thy charm ; 
 
 And let tlie angel, whom thou still hast serv'd, 
 Tell thee, Blacdutl'was from his mother's womb 
 Untimely ripp'd. 
 
 Mach. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, 
 For It hath cow'd my better part of man! 
 And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, 
 That palter^ with' us in a double sense; 
 That keep the word of promise to our ear, 
 And break it to our hope. — I'll not fight with thee. 
 
 ISIacd. Then yield thee, cow'ard, 
 And live to bo the show and gaze o'the time. 
 We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, 
 Painted upon a pole; and under writ. 
 Here may you see tlie tyrant. 
 
 Macb. I'll not yield. 
 
 To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, 
 And to be baited with the rabble's curse. 
 Tliough Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 
 
 * Foot-soldiers. ^ Reporteft with clamor. 
 
 ' The air which cannot be cut. *Sbutlle. 
 
 And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, 
 Yet I will try the last; Before my body 
 1 throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macdufl; 
 And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough. 
 [Exeunt, Jighting. 
 
 Retreat. FUrurish. Re-enter with Drum and Co- 
 ttjrs, Malcolm, old Siward, Rosse, Lexox, Angcs, 
 Catu.s'ess, Me.ntetii, and Soldiers. 
 
 Mai. I would, the friends we miss were safe ar- 
 rived. 
 
 Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, 
 So great a day as this is cheaply bougnt. 
 
 Mat. Macduff is missing, and j'our noble sou. 
 
 Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt. 
 He only liv'd but till he w-as a man; 
 The which no sooner had his prow^ess confirm'd 
 In the unshrinking station where he fought, 
 But like a man he died. 
 
 Siw. Then he is dead 1 
 
 Rosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause 
 of sorrow 
 JIust not be measur'd by his worth, for then 
 It hath no end. 
 
 Siw. Had he his hurts before 1 
 
 Rosse. Ay, on the front. 
 
 Siw. Why then, God's soldier be he! 
 
 Had I as many sons as I have hairs, 
 I would not wish them to a fairer death: 
 And so his knell is knoU'd. 
 
 Mai. He's worth more sorrow, 
 
 And that I'll spend for him. 
 
 Siw. He's worth no more ; 
 
 They say he parted well, and paid his score: 
 So God be with him. — Here comes newer comfort. 
 
 Re-enter Macduff, with Macbetd's Head on a 
 Pole. 
 
 Maed. Hail, king ! for so thou art : Behold, where 
 stands 
 The usurper's cursed head: the time is free: 
 1 see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl, 
 That speak my salutation in their minds; 
 Whose voices I desire aloud with mine, — 
 Hail, king of Scotland ! 
 
 All. King of Scotland, hail! [Flourish. 
 
 Mai. We shall not spend a large expense of time, 
 Belbre we reckon with your several loves, 
 And make us even with you. My thanes and 
 
 kinsmen. 
 Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland 
 In such an honor named. What's more to do. 
 Which would be planted newly with the time,— 
 As calling home our exiled friends abroad, 
 That fled the snares of watchful tyranny; 
 Producing forth the cruel ministers 
 Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen; 
 Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands 
 Took oir her life: — This, and what needful else 
 That calls upon us, by tlie grace of Grace, 
 We will perform in measure, time, and place: 
 So tliaiiks to all at once, and to each one. 
 Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. 
 
 [Fkntri^h. Exeunt 
 
KING JOHN. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KiXG John. 
 
 PiUNCE Henry, fii" Son,- afterwards K. Henry III. 
 
 AinHUR, Duke of Bretagne, Snn of Geffrey, late 
 
 Duke of liict-.i'xne, ttie elder Brother of K. John. 
 William'Mare.shali., Earl of Pembroke. 
 liEFFP.EY Fitz-Peter, Earl of Essex, Clikf Jus- 
 
 tkiarii of Enxlanci. 
 William Longsword. Earl of Siilisbury. 
 RouERT Bigot, Earl of Norfolk. 
 Hubert pe Burgh, Chamhertaiii to the King. 
 Robert Faulconbridge, Son of Sir Robert Faul- 
 
 conbridge. 
 Philip Faulconbridge, his Half-Brother, Bastard 
 
 Son to King Richard the First. 
 James Gurxey, Servant to Ladij Faulconbridge. 
 Peter of Pomfret, a Prophet. 
 PuiLip, Kins Q/' France. 
 
 Lewis, the Dauphin. 
 
 Archduke of Austria. 
 
 Cardinal Pandulph, the Pope''s Legate. 
 
 Melun, a French Lord. 
 
 Chatillon, Ambassador from France /o K. John. 
 
 F.L1V0R, the IVidow of King Henry II. and Mother 
 
 of King John. 
 Constance, Mother to Artlnir. 
 Blanch, Daughter to Alphonso, King of Castile, 
 
 and Niece to King John. 
 Lady Faulconbridge, Mother to the Bastard, and 
 
 Robert Faulconbridge. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Citizens of Angiers. Sheriff, Heralds, 
 Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attend 
 ants. 
 
 SCENE— Sometimes in England, and sometimes in France. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Northampton. A Room of State in 
 the Palace. 
 
 Enter King John, Queen Elinor, Pembroke, Essex, 
 Salisbury, and otiiers, with Chatillon. 
 K. John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France 
 
 wi th us ? 
 Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the Idng of 
 France, 
 In my behaviour,' to the majesty. 
 The borrovv'd majesty of England here. 
 Ell. A strange beginning;— Iiorrow'd majesty! 
 K John. Silence, good mother; hear the em- 
 bassy. 
 Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalf 
 Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, 
 Arthur Plantagenet, lays most'lawful claim 
 To this fair island, and the territories; 
 To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine: 
 Desiring tliee to lay aside the sword. 
 Which sways usurpingly these several titles; 
 And put the same into young Arthur's hand. 
 Thy nephew, and right royal sovereign. 
 K. Jnhn. Wlint iollows.'if we disallow of this? 
 Chut, 'rile im 111(1 ri.ntrol of fierce and bloody war. 
 To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. 
 K. John. Here have we war for war, and blood 
 J lor blood, 
 
 Controlnient for controlmcnt: so answer France. 
 Chat. Then take my king's defiance from my 
 mouth. 
 The furthest limit of my embassy. 
 K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in 
 peace : 
 Be thou as liglitniug in the eyes of France; 
 For ere tlum canst report I will be there, 
 ' In the manner I now do. 
 2S2 
 
 The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: 
 So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath, 
 And sullen presage of j'our own decay. — 
 An hooorable conductlet him have:— 
 Pembroke, look to't: Farewell, Cliatillon. 
 
 [Exeunt Chatillon and Pembroke 
 
 Eli. What now, my son ? have I not ever said. 
 How that ambitious Constance would not cease, 
 Till she had kindled France, and all the world, 
 Upon the right and party of her son? 
 This might have been prevented, and made whole, 
 With very easy arguments of love; 
 Which now the manage'* of two kingdoms must 
 With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. 
 
 K. John. Our strong possession, and our right, 
 for us. 
 
 Eli. Your strong possession, much more than 
 your right; 
 Or else it must "go wrong with you, and me: 
 So inucli my conscience whispers in your ear; 
 Which none but heaven, and you, and I, shall hear 
 Enter /Ac sAe7'(^ of Northamptonshire, U'/iO Wilis' 
 pers Essex. 
 
 Esscr. Jly liege, here is the strangest controversj', 
 Come from the country to be judg'd by you. 
 That e'er I heard : Shall I produce the men 1 
 
 K. John. Let them approach,— [Exit Sheriff. 
 Our abbies, and our priories, shall pay 
 
 Re-enter Sheriff, with Robert Faulconbridge, and 
 Philip, his bastard Brother. 
 
 Tins expedition's charge. — What men are yout 
 
 Bast. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman, 
 Born in Northamptonshire; and eldest son. 
 As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge; 
 
 3 Conduct, administration. 
 
SCESK I. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 283 
 
 A soldier, by the honor-^ivin? hand 
 OfCoeur-de-Iion knighted in the field. 
 
 K. John, What are thou? 
 
 Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulcon- 
 b ridge. 
 
 A". John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? 
 Vou came not of one mother then, it seems. 
 
 Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty king, 
 That is well known; and, as I think, one father: 
 But. for the certain knowledge of tliat truth, 
 I put you o'er to heaven, and to my mother; 
 Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. 
 
 Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame 
 thy motlier, 
 And wound her honor with this diffidence. 
 
 Bast. I. madam ! no, I have no reason for it; 
 That is my brother"'s plea, and none of mine; 
 The whicli if he can prove, ""a pops me out 
 At least from fair five hundred pounds a year: 
 Heaven guard my molher's honor, and my land ! 
 
 A^ John. A good blunt fellow: — Why, being 
 3'ounger born, 
 Dotli he lay claim to thine inheritance? 
 
 Bast. I know not why except to get the land. 
 But once he sla?iderM me with bastardy: 
 But wheV I be as truc-begot, or no, 
 That still I lay upon my mother's head; 
 But. that I am as well begot, my liege, 
 (Fair fall the bones that took tlie panis for me!) 
 Compare our faces, and be jud:2;e yourself. 
 If old sir Robert did beget us both. 
 And were our father, and this son like him; — 
 
 old sir Robert, father, on my knee, 
 
 1 give licaven thanks, I was not like to thee. 
 
 K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent 
 us here! 
 
 Eli. He hath a trick^ of Cceur-de-lion's face, 
 Tlie accent of his tongue affected him: 
 Do you not read some tokens of my son 
 In tne large composition of this man? 
 
 A*. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, 
 
 And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak. 
 
 What doth move you to claim your brother^'s land? 
 
 Bast. Because lie hath a hall-face, like my father: 
 With tiiat half-face would he have all my land: 
 A halt-faced groat live hundred pound a year! 
 
 Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father 
 liv'd, 
 Your brother did employ my father much ; 
 
 Bast. Well, sir. by this you cannot get my land; 
 Your tale must be, how lie empIoyM my mother. 
 
 R(}b* And once despatch^ him in an embassy 
 To Germany, there, with the emperor. 
 To treat of nigh alfliirs touching that time: 
 The advantage of his absence took the king. 
 And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's; 
 Where how he did prevail. I shame to speak; 
 But truth is truth ; larsre lengths of seas and shores 
 Between my fatlier and my mother lay, 
 (As I have heard my father speak himself,) 
 When this same lusty gentleman was got. 
 TTpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd 
 His lands to me; and took it, on his death, 
 That this my mother's son, was none of his; 
 And, if lie were, he came into the world 
 Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. 
 Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, 
 My fatlier's land, as was my father's will. 
 
 AT. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate; 
 Your lather's wife did after wedlock bear him; 
 And. if she did play false, the fault was hers; 
 Wliich lault lies on the hazards of all husbands 
 That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, 
 Who. as you say, took pains to get this son, 
 Had of your father claimM this son for his? 
 In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept 
 This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; 
 In sooth he miglit: then, if he were my brother's. 
 My brother might not claim him; nor your father, 
 Be"ing none of his. refuse him: This concludes, — 
 My mother"'s son did get your father's heir; 
 Your father's heir must have your father's land. 
 
 Rob, Shall then my father's will be of no force. 
 To dispossess that child which is not his? 
 
 Basf, Of no more force to dispossess me, sir. 
 Than was his will to get me, as I think. 
 
 illi Whether hadst thou rather, — be a Faulcon- 
 bridge, 
 
 3 Trace, outline. 
 
 And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land; 
 Or the reputed son of Cceur-de-lion, 
 Lord of thy presence, and no land beside? 
 
 BcL^t. Madam, an if my brother had my shape, 
 And I had his, sir Robert his, like him: 
 And if my legs were two such riding-rods. 
 My arms such eel-skins stutrd ; my face so thin, 
 That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose. 
 Lest men sliould saj'", Look, where three-farthinsrs 
 
 goes ! 
 And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, 
 'Would I might never stir from oQthis place, 
 I'd give it every foot to have this face; 
 I would not be sir Nob in any case. 
 
 Eli. I like thee well: Wilt thou forsake thy 
 fortune, 
 Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me? 
 I am a soldier, and now bound to France. 
 
 Bast. Brother, take you my land, Til take my 
 chance: 
 Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year; 
 Yet sell your face for five pence, and, 'tis" dear. — 
 Madam, Til follow you unto the death. 
 
 Ed. Nay, 1 would have j^ou go before me thither. 
 
 Bast. Our country manners give our betters way. 
 
 A'. John, What is thy name? 
 
 Bast. Philip, my liege; so is my name begun; 
 Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son. 
 
 A'. Johr. From henceforth bear liis name wiiose 
 Ibrm thou bear'st : 
 Kneel thou down Philip, but arise more great: 
 Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet. 
 
 Basf. Brother, by my mother's side, give me your 
 hand ; 
 My father gave me honor, yours gave land : — 
 Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, 
 When I was got, sir Rol)en was away. 
 
 Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet! — 
 I am thy grandame, Richard; call me so. 
 
 Bast. Madani.by chance, but not by truth: What 
 though? 
 Something about, a Uttle from the rijiiit. 
 
 In at the window, or else o'er the hatch : 
 Who dares not stir by day, must walk by night; 
 
 And have is have, however men do catch: 
 Near or far off. well won is still well shot ; 
 And I am I. iioweVr I was beirot. 
 
 K. John, do, Faulconbridge; now hast thou thy 
 desire, 
 A landless knight makes thee a landed 'squire. — 
 Come, madam, and come, Richard; we must speed 
 For France, for France; for it is more than need. 
 
 Bast. Brother, adieu; good fortune come to thee! 
 For thou wast got i'the way of honesty. 
 
 [Exeuni all but the Bastard. 
 A foot of honor better than I was; 
 But many a loot of land the worse. 
 
 Well, now can I malie any Joan a lady: 
 
 Good deny* Sir Richard,— God~a-mercif. fellow ; 
 And if his name be George. I'll call him Peter: 
 For new-made honor doth forget men's names; 
 'Tis too respective, and too sociable. 
 For your conversion. Now your traveller, — 
 He and his tooth-pick at my worslijp's mess; 
 And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, 
 Why then I suck my teeth and catechise 
 
 My picket man of countries:* Mij dear sir, 
 
 (Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin.) 
 
 I shall beseech yoii. — That is questiiin now; 
 
 And then comes answer like an ABC-book: — 
 
 sir, says answer, at your best command,- 
 
 At your employiftenf; at your service, sir: 
 
 Xo, sir, says qiipslu'n, I, sueet sir. at ymirs: 
 
 And so, ere answer knows what question would, 
 
 (Saving in dialogue of compliment; 
 
 And talking of the Alps, and Apennines, 
 
 The Pyrenean, and the river Po,) 
 
 It draws toward supper in conclusion so. 
 
 But tliis is worshipful society, 
 
 And fits the mounting spirit, like myself: 
 
 For he is but a bastard to the time. 
 
 That doth not smack of observation* 
 
 (And so am I, whether I smack, or no;) 
 
 And not alone in habit and device. 
 
 Exterior form, outward accoutrement; 
 
 But from the inward motion to deliver 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet, poison for the age's tooth; 
 
 Which, though I will not practise to deceive, 
 
 *Good evening. 
 
 8 My travelled fop 
 
284 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act II 
 
 Yet. to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; 
 For it shall strew the lootstepy of my rising.— 
 But who coiires in such haste, in riding robes'? 
 Wiiat woman-post is thisl hath she no husband, 
 That will talve pains to blow a horn belore her? 
 Enter Lady Faulconbridoe ajid James Gurney. 
 O me! it is my mother: — How now, f;ood lady? 
 What brings you here to court so hastily] 
 
 Ladi/ F. Where is that slave, tiiy brother? 
 where is he? 
 That holds in chase mine honor up and down? 
 
 Bi/f^t. I\ry brother Robert? old sir Uoberfs son? 
 Colbrand t'he ^iant, that same mighty man? 
 Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so? 
 
 Ladr/ F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, tliou unreve- 
 rent boy, 
 Sir Robert's son: Why scorn'st thou at sir Robert? 
 He is sir Robert's son; and so art thou. 
 
 Bast. James Gnrney, wilt thou give us leave a 
 while? 
 Gur. Good leave, good Pliilip. 
 
 Bast. Philip? — sparrow! — James, 
 
 There's 103-56 abroad; anon I'll tell thrc more. 
 
 [Exit Gurney. 
 Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son; 
 Sir Robert might have e.it his part in me 
 Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his fast: 
 Sir Robert could Ao well; Marry (to confess!) 
 Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it; 
 We know his handy-work: — Therefore, good 
 
 mother. 
 To whom am I beholden for these limbs? 
 Sir Robert never hoip to make this leg. 
 
 Ld'Uj F. Hast thou conspired with Ihy brother too, 
 Tiiat for thine own gain shouldst defend mine 
 
 honor? 
 What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave! 
 
 Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, — Basilisco- 
 like:8 
 What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder. 
 But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son; 
 I have disclaimed sir Robert, and my land; 
 Legitimation, name, and all is gone: 
 Then, good my mother, let me know my father, 
 Some proper man, I hope; Who was it, mother? 
 
 Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon- 
 bridge ? 
 
 Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil. 
 
 Lady F. King Ricliard Cosur-dc-lion wap thy 
 father; 
 By long and vehemont suit I was seduced 
 To make room for him in my husband's bed — 
 Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! 
 Thou art the issue of my dear olfence, 
 Whicii was so strongly urged, past my defence. 
 
 Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again, 
 Madam, I woulJ not wish a better father. 
 Some sins do bear their privilege on earth. 
 And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly: 
 Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,^ 
 Subjected tribute to commanding love, — 
 Against whose fury and unmatched force 
 The awless lion could not wage the fight, 
 Nor keep his princely lieart from Ricliard's hand. 
 He, that perforce rpbs lions of their hearts, 
 iMay easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother. 
 With all my heart I thank thee for my father! 
 Who lives and dares but say, thou didsf not well 
 When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. 
 Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; 
 
 And they' shall say, w^hen Richard me begot, 
 If thou had'st said him nay, it had been sin"; 
 
 Who says it was, lie lies; I say, 'twas not. 
 
 [Exeimt. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 SCENE I.— France. Before the Walls nfAngieis. 
 
 Enter, on one side, ihc Archduke of Austria.onrf 
 Forces; on the other, Philip, King of France, 
 and Forces,- Lewis, Constance, ARTnuR, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Leic. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. — 
 Arthur, thesreat I'ore-rnnner of thy blood, 
 Kichard, that robb'd the lion ofhis'hcart. 
 And Ibught the holy wars in Palestine, 
 By this brave duke came early to liis grave; 
 And, for amends to his posterity, 
 At our importance,' hither is he come, 
 To spread his colors, hoy, in thy behalf; 
 And to rebuke the usurpation 
 Of the unnatural uncle. English .Tohn: 
 Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. 
 
 Arth. God shall forgive you Creur-de-lion's deatli. 
 The rather, that you give his ottspring life. 
 Shadowing their right under your wings of war: 
 I give you welcome with a povperless hand, 
 Hut with a heart full of unstained love: 
 Welcome before the gates of Anglers, duke. 
 
 Lew. A noble boy! 'Who would not do thee nghtl 
 
 Aust. Upon thy cheek lav I this zealous kiss, 
 As seal to this indenture of my love; 
 That to my home I will no mor^ return. 
 Till Anglers and the right thou hast in France, 
 Together with that pale, that white-faced shore. 
 Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides. 
 Anil coops from other lands her islanders. 
 Even fLiI that England, hedg'd in with the main, 
 The water-walled bulwark, still secure 
 And confident from foreign purposes, 
 Even till that utmost corner of the west 
 Salute thee for her king; till then, fair hoy, 
 Will [ not think of home, but follow arms. 
 
 Const. O. take ids mother's thanks, a widow's 
 thanks. 
 Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength. 
 To make a more requital to yonr love. 
 
 Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift 
 their swords 
 In such a just and charitable war. 
 
 'Idle reports, 'Importunity. 
 
 A'. P/ii. Well then, to work; our carmon shall 
 be bent 
 Against the brows of this resisting town. 
 Call for our chiefest men of discipline. 
 To cull the plots of best advantages;' — 
 We'll lay belore this town our royal hones. 
 Wade to the market-phice in Frenchmen's blood, 
 But we will make it subject to this boy. 
 
 Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy, 
 Lest unadvis'd you stain your sword with blood: 
 My lord Chatillon may from England bring 
 That right in peace, which here we urge in war; 
 Aiul then we shall repent each drop of blood, 
 That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. 
 Enter Ch.itillon. 
 
 K. Plii. A wonder, lady! — lo, upon thy wish. 
 Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd. — 
 What England says, say briefly, gentle lord, 
 We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak. 
 
 Clutt. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege, 
 And stir them up against a mightier task. 
 England, impatient of your just demands. 
 Hath put himself in arms; the adverse winds. 
 Whose leisure I liave staid, have given him time 
 To land his legions all as soon as I : 
 His marches are expedient' to this town. 
 His forces strong, his soldiers confident. 
 With him along is come the mother-queen. 
 An Ate, ^ stirring him to blood and strife; 
 Willi her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain,- 
 With them a bastard of the king deeeas'd: 
 .\nd all the unsettled humors oi" the land, — 
 Bash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries. 
 With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens, — 
 Have sold their fortunes at their native homes. 
 Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
 To make a hazard of new fortunes here. 
 In brief, a braver choice of dauntless .spirits. 
 Than now tlic English bottoms have waft o'er 
 Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
 
 ® A charaacter in an old drama called Sotiman and 
 Pcrseila, 
 ' Beat stations to over-awe the town. 
 2 Immediate, expeditious. ' The Goddess of Revenge, 
 
Scene I. 
 
 laNG JOHN. 
 
 285 
 
 To do otlbncc and scath* in Christendom. 
 Tlie interruption of tlieir churlisli drums 
 
 [Drums beat. 
 Cuts oti'more circumstance : tliey are at liand, 
 To parley or to tl^'it; tiicrelbre, prepare. 
 
 A". Phi. How inucli unlooii'd lor is this expedition! 
 
 Aust. By how much unex]'cclcd, by so mucli 
 We must awake endeavor lor delence; 
 For courai^e mounted witii occasion: 
 Let them ue welcome then, we arc prepar'd. 
 
 Eii/er KiSG JonN, Ei.ixor, ISlaxch, the Bastard, 
 PEMEUoKt:, and Purees. 
 
 K. John. Peace be to France ; if France in peace 
 permit 
 Our just and lineal entrance to our own! 
 If not. bleed France, and peace ascend to lieaven. 
 \Vhiles we, God's wrathful ai^ent, do correct 
 Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven. 
 
 A". Phi. Peace be to Enjiland: if that war return 
 From France to England, there to live in peace! 
 England we love: and, lor that England's sake, 
 With burden of our armor liere we sweat: 
 This toil of ours sliould be a work of thine; 
 But thou from loving England art so tar. 
 That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, 
 Cut otf the sequence of posterity. 
 Outfaced infant state, and done a rape 
 Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. 
 Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face; — 
 These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his: 
 This httle abstract doth contain that large. 
 Which died in GelTrey; and the hand of time 
 Shall draw this brief* into as huge a volume. 
 That Geltrey was thy elder liiolher born. 
 And this his son; England Has Getlrey's right, 
 And this is Gcirrey's: In llie name of God, 
 How comes it then, that Ihoii art eall'd a king. 
 When living blood doth in these temples beat. 
 Which owe" the crown that thou o'ermasterest ? 
 
 K. John. From whom hast thou this great com- 
 mission, France, 
 To draw my answer from thy articles? 
 
 K. Phi. From that supernal judge, that stirs 
 good thoughts 
 In any breast of strong authority, 
 To look into the blots and stains of right. 
 That judge hath made me guardian to this boy: 
 Under whose warrant, 1 imiieach thy wrong; 
 And, by whose help, I mean to chastise it. 
 
 A'. John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority. 
 
 K. Phi. Excuse; it is to lieat usurping dovni. 
 
 Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France? 
 
 Conf<t. Let me make answer; — thy usurping son. 
 
 Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be Idng; 
 That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world! 
 
 Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true. 
 As thine was to thy huslianl: and this boy 
 Liker in feature to his father Geffi-ey, 
 Than thou and John in manners; being as like, 
 As rain to water, or devil to his dam. 
 My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think, 
 His father never was so true begot; 
 It cannot be. an if thou wert his mother. 
 
 Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy 
 father. 
 
 Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that would 
 blot thee. 
 
 Aust. Peace ! 
 
 Bast. Hear the crier. 
 
 Aust. What the devil art thou? 
 
 Bast. One that will plav the devil, sir, with you. 
 An 'a may catch your Iiide and you alone. 
 You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, 
 Whose valor plucks dead lio;is by the beard; 
 I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right: 
 Sirrah, look to't; i'faith, I will, i'faith. 
 
 Blanch. 0, well did he become that lion's robe. 
 That did disrobe tlie lion of that robe! 
 
 Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him. 
 As great Alcides' shoes u]iou an ass: — 
 But. ass, I'll take that burilen from your back; 
 Or lay on that, shall make your shoulders crack. 
 
 j4u«/. What cracker is lb issiinie, that deafs our cars 
 With this abundance ol sui«MiIuoiis breath? 
 
 A'. f/ij. Lewis, determine wliat we shall dostraight. 
 
 Lew. Women and fools, bri'ak oil' your confer- 
 ence.— 
 
 * Mischief. 
 
 *A short-writing. 
 
 •^Own. 
 
 King John, this is the very sum of all, — 
 England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, 
 In right of Arthur do I claim of thee: 
 Wilt thou resign them and lav dowm thy arms? 
 
 A'. John. My lile as soon:— I do "defy thee, 
 France. 
 Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand; 
 And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more 
 Than e'er the coward hand of France can win: 
 Submit thee, boy. 
 
 Eti. Come to thy grandam. child. 
 
 Const. Do, child, go to it' grandam. child : 
 Give prandam kingdom, and it' grandam will 
 Give It a plum, a cherry, and a tig: 
 There's a good grandarii. 
 
 Arth. Good my mother, peace! 
 
 I would, that I were low laid in my grave; 
 I am not worth this coil' that's made for me. 
 
 Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he 
 weeps. 
 
 Con.st. Now shame upon you, whe'r she does orno! 
 His grandain's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, 
 Draw those lieaven-moving pearls from his poor 
 
 eyes. 
 Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; 
 Ay. with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed 
 To i\o him justice, and revenge on you. 
 
 Eli. Thou monstrous slandererof heaven and 
 earth ! 
 
 Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and 
 earth! 
 Call not me slanderer; thou, and thine, usurp 
 The dominions, royalties, and rights. 
 Of this oppressed boy: This is thy eldest son's son, 
 Inlbrtunate in nothing but in thee; 
 Thy sins are visited in this poor child; 
 The canon of the law is laid on him, 
 Being but the second generation 
 Removed from th)' sin-conceiving womb. 
 
 A'. John. Beldam, have done. 
 
 Con.yt. I have but this to say, — • 
 
 That he's not only plagued for her sin. 
 But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
 On this rrinoved issue, plagued for her, 
 And with her plague, her sin; Iiis injury 
 Her injury, — the beadle to her sin ; 
 All punish'd in the jicrson of this child. 
 And all lor her; A plague upon her! 
 
 Eli. Thou unadvised scold. I can produce 
 A will that bars the title nf thy son. 
 
 Const. .\y, n ho doubts that? a n ill! a wicked will; 
 A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will.' 
 
 A". Phi. Peace. lady;pause,orbe more temperate: 
 It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim^ 
 To these ili-tuned repetitions. — 
 Some trumpet summons hither to the walls 
 These men of Anglers; let us hear them speak. 
 Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. 
 
 Trumpets .sound. Enter Citizens upon the IValls. 
 
 1 CiJ. Who is it that hath wam'd us to the walls! 
 
 A'. Phi. 'Tis France, for England." 
 
 A'. J<}hn. England, for itself: 
 
 You men of .\ngiers, and my loving subjects, — 
 
 A'. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's 
 subjects. 
 Our trumpet eall'd you to this gentle parle." 
 
 K. John. For our advantage; — Therefore hear 
 
 us lirst. 
 
 These flags of France, that are advanced here 
 Before the e>e and prospect of your town, 
 Have hither marcli'd to vour endamagement: 
 The cannons have their "bowels full of wrath; 
 And ready mounted are they to spit forth 
 Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls: 
 All preparation for a bloody siege, 
 Ancl merciless proceeding hy these French; 
 Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates; 
 And, but "for our approach, those sleeping stones. 
 That as a waist do girdle yon about. 
 By the compulsion of their ordinance 
 By this time from their hxed beds of lime 
 Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made 
 For bloody power to rush upon your peace. 
 But, on the sight of us, your lawful king. — 
 Who painfully with much expedient march, 
 Have brought a countercheck before your gates. 
 To save unscratch'd your city's threatcn'd cheeks,— 
 
 'Bustle. 
 
 ''To encourage. 
 
 ^Conference. 
 
23G 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Behold, the French, amazM, vouchsafe a parle: 
 
 And now, instead of bullets wrppp'd in tire, 
 
 To malce a shakins fever in your walls, 
 
 They shoot but c.ilm words, folded up in smoke, 
 
 To make a faithless error in your ears: 
 
 Which trust accordingly, kind citizens. 
 
 And let us in, your kins; whose labor'd spirits, 
 
 Forwearied' in this action of swift speed. 
 
 Crave harborage within your city walls. 
 
 K.Fhi. When I have said, make answer to us both. 
 Lo, in this right hand, whose protection 
 Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
 Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenct; 
 Son to the elder brother of this man, 
 And king o'er him. and all that he enjoys: 
 For this down-trodden equity, we tread 
 In warlike march these greens before your towTi; 
 Being no further enemy to you. 
 Than the constraint of hospitable 7.eal, 
 In the reUef of this oppressed child. 
 Religiously provokes. Be pleased then 
 To pay that duty, which you truly owe. 
 To him that owes" it: namely, this young prince: 
 And then our arms, like to a muzzled hear, 
 Save in aspect, have all otfence seal'd up; 
 Our canno:i's malice vainly shall be spent 
 Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven; 
 And, with a blessed and unvexM retire, 
 With uahack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd. 
 We will bear home that lusty blood again. 
 Which here we came to spout against your town, 
 And leave your children, wives, and you in peace. 
 But if you fondly pLiss our profferd offer, 
 'Tis not the roundure' of your old-fticed walls 
 Can hide you from our messengers of war: 
 Though a'U these English, and their discipline, 
 Wereharbor'd in their rude circumference. 
 Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord. 
 In that behalf whicn we have challenged it^ 
 Or shall we give the signal to our rage, 
 And stalk in blood to our possession] 
 1 at. In brief, we are the king of England's 
 subjects; 
 For him. and in his right, we hold this town. 
 K.Jiikn. Acknowledge then the kini.andletmein. 
 1 C/7. That can we not: buthelhutpnivesthe king 
 To him will we prove loyal; till that time. 
 Have we rammM up our gates against the world. 
 K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove 
 the king! 
 And, if not that, I bring you witnesses. 
 Twice lifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,— 
 Basl. Bastards, and else. 
 K. Julia. To verify our title with their lives. 
 A'. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as 
 
 those, • 
 
 Bast. Some bastards too. 
 
 K. Plii. Stand in his face to contradict his claim. 
 1 til. Till yon compound whose right is worthiest. 
 We. for the worthiest, hold the right from both. 
 
 K.John. Then Ood forgive the sin ofall those souls, 
 That to their e\^rlasting residence. 
 Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet. 
 In dreadl'ul trial of our kingdom's king! 
 A', Phi. Amen! Amen!— Mount, chevaliers, to 
 
 arms! " 
 Bast. St. George,— that swinged the dragon, 
 and e'er since. 
 Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, 
 Teach us some fence! Sirrah, were I at home. 
 At your den, sirrah, [TnAusTRiA.] with yourlioness, 
 I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide, 
 And make a monster of you. 
 jliisf. Peace; no more. 
 
 Bust. 0, tremble; for you hear the lion roar, 
 A'. Juhii. Up higher to the plain; where we'll set 
 Ibrth, 
 In best appointment, all our regiments. 
 Bn-il. Sp,^ed then, to take advantage of the field, 
 A'. Phi. It shall beso;— [To Lewis.] and at the 
 other hill 
 Command the rest to stand.— God and our right ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCEXE II.— rAe snme. 
 
 Alarums and Exnirsiim.i: then a Retreat. Enter 
 a French Herald, ivitli Trumpets, to the Gates. 
 /'. //e;-. You men of Anglers, open wide your gates, 
 ■ Worn out ^^Owna. * Circle. 
 
 And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; 
 
 Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made 
 
 Much work for tears in many an English mother. 
 
 Whose sons lie sc.atter'd on the bleeding ground; 
 
 Many a ^vidow's husband grovelling lies. 
 
 Coldly embracing the discolor'd earth; 
 
 And victory, with little loss, doth play 
 
 Upon the dancing banners of the French; 
 
 Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, 
 
 To enter conquerors, and to proclaim 
 
 Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours. 
 
 Enter an English Herald, with Trumpets. 
 
 E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Anglers, ring your 
 bells. 
 King John, your king and England's, dothapproach, 
 Commander of this hot malicious day! 
 Their armors, that march'd hence so silver-bright, 
 Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; 
 Tliere stuck no plume in any English crest, 
 That is removed by a stafT of France; 
 Our colors do return in those same hands 
 That did display them when we first march'd forth; 
 And, like a jollv troop of huntsmen, come 
 Our lusty English, all with purpled hands. 
 Died in the dying slaughter of their toes: 
 Open your gates, and give the victors way. 
 
 at. Heralds, from oft our towers we might behold. 
 From first to last, the onset and retire 
 Of both your armies; whose equality 
 By our best eyes cannot be censured:* 
 Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd 
 
 blows ; 
 Strength match'd with strength, and power con- 
 fronted power: 
 Both are like; and both alike we like. 
 One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even. 
 We hold our town for neither; yet for both. 
 
 Enter, at one site, King John', with his Power; 
 Elinor, Blanch, and the Bastard; at the other, 
 Kisc. Phillip, Lewis, Austria, and Forces. 
 
 K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to 
 cast away] 
 Say, shall the current of our right run on? 
 Wliose passage, vex'd with thy impediment. 
 Shall leave his native channel, and o'erswell 
 With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, 
 Unless thou let his silver water keep 
 A peaceful progress to the ocean. 
 
 K. Phi. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of 
 blood,"^ 
 In this hot trial, more than we of France; 
 Rather, lost more: .\nd by this hand I swear. 
 That sways the earth this climate overlooks,— 
 Before we will lay down our just-borne arms. 
 We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms wo 
 
 bear. 
 Or add a royal number to the dead; 
 Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss, 
 With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. 
 
 Ba.it. Ha. majesty! how high thy glory towers, 
 When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! 
 O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; 
 The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; 
 And now he feasts, mouthing the fiesli of men, 
 In undeterinin'd ditrerence of king.— 
 VVhy stand these royal fronts amazed thus ! 
 Cry," havoc, kings! back to the stained Heln, 
 You equal potents,' fiery kindled spirits! 
 Then let confusion of one part confirm 
 The other's peace ; till then, blows, blood, and death! 
 
 A'. /'i/i';. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit! 
 
 A'. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your 
 kini;! 
 
 1 at. The king of England, when wc Icnow the 
 king. 
 
 K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his 
 
 K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy, 
 And bear possession of our person here: 
 Lord of our presence. Anglers, and of you. 
 
 1 at. A greater, power than we, denies all tins; 
 And. till It be undoubted, we do lock 
 Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; • 
 King'd of our fears; until our fears rosolv'd. 
 Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd. 
 
 'Judged, determined. 
 
 Totentatea. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 287 
 
 Sast. By heaven, these scroyles" of Anglers flout 
 you, kings; 
 And stand securely on tlieir battlements, 
 As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 
 At your industrious scenes and acts of death. 
 Vour royal presences be rul'd by me; 
 Do like the mutines' of Jerusalem; 
 Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend 
 Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town: 
 By cast and west let France and England mount 
 Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths; 
 Till their soul-learing clamors have brawl'd down 
 The llinty ribs of this eojitcmptuous city: 
 Vd play incessantly upon these jades, 
 Even till unfenced desolation 
 Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. 
 That done, dissever your united strengths, 
 And part your mingled colors once again; 
 Turn face to face, and bloody point to point: 
 Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull lorth 
 Out of one side her happy minion; 
 To whom in lavor she shall give the day, 
 And kiss him with a glorious victory. 
 How like you this wild counsel, mighty states'.' 
 .■^mncks it not something of the policy ] 
 
 K. JnfiJi. Now, by the sky that hangs above oui 
 head*:, 
 I like it well; — France, shall we Icnit our powers. 
 And lay this .A.ngiers even with the ground; 
 Then, after, fight who shall be king of it? 
 
 Bast. .\n if thou hast the mettle of a king, — 
 Being wrong'd, as we are. by this peevish town,— 
 Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, 
 As we will ours, against these saucy walls. 
 And when that we have dashM them to the ground 
 Why, then defy each other; and pell-mell. 
 Make work upon yourselves, for heaven, or hell. 
 
 K. Phi. Let it be so: — Say. where will j ou assault? 
 
 A''. John. We from the west will send destruction 
 Into the city's bosom. 
 
 Aust. I from the north. 
 
 K. Phi. Our thunder from the south. 
 
 Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. 
 
 Bast. O prudent discipline! From north to south; 
 Austria and France shoot in each others mouth : 
 
 [Aside. 
 ril stir them to it : — Come, away, away ! 
 
 1 Cit. Hear us, great kntgs: vouchsafe a while 
 to stay. 
 And I shall show you peace, and fair-faced league; 
 Win you this city without stroke, or wound; 
 Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, 
 That here come sacrifices for the field; 
 Persever not. but hear me, mighty idngs. 
 
 K. John. Speak on, with favor; we are bent to 
 hear. 
 
 1 Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady 
 Blanch, 
 Is near to England: Look upon the years 
 Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid: 
 If lusty love should go in quest of beauty. 
 Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch'! 
 If zealous" love should go in search of virtue. 
 Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? 
 If love ambitious sought a match of birth. 
 Whose \eins bound richer blood than lady Blanch? 
 Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth. 
 Is the young Dauphin every way complete: 
 If not complete, say, he is not she; 
 And she again wants nothing, to name want, 
 If want it be not. that she is not he: 
 He is the half part of a blessed man, 
 Left to be finished by such as she; 
 And she a fair divided excellence. 
 Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. 
 O, two such silver currents, when they Join, 
 Do glorify the banks that bound them in : 
 And two such shores to two such streams made one, 
 Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, kings. 
 To these two princes, if you marry them. 
 This Anion siiall do more than battery can. 
 To our fast-closed gates; for, at this match. 
 With swifter spleen" than powder can enlbrce. 
 The mouth of passage shall we Hing wide ope, 
 And give jou entrance; but without this match, 
 Tht sea enraged is not lialf so deaf. 
 Lions more confident, mountains and rocks 
 
 "Scabby fellows. 
 8 Pious. 
 
 ' Mutineers. 
 'Speed. 
 
 More free from motion; no, not Death himself 
 In mortal fury half so pereuiptory, 
 As we to keep this city. 
 
 Bast. Here's a stay. 
 
 That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death 
 Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed. 
 That spits lorth death, and mountains, rocks, and 
 
 seas; 
 Talks as lamiliarly of roaring lions, 
 .\s maids ot' thirteen do ot puppy-dogs? 
 What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? 
 He speaks jilain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce; 
 He gives the bastinado ^vith his tongue; 
 Our ears arc cudgel'd; not a word of his, 
 But buflets better than a fist of France: 
 Why ! I was never so bethunip''d with words, 
 Since 1 first call'd my brother's father, dad. 
 
 Eti. Son, list to thisconjunction, make this matclr 
 Give with our niece a dowry large enough: 
 Foi- by, this knot thou Shalt so surely tie 
 Thy liow unsured assurance to the crown. 
 That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe 
 The bloom tliat promiseth a mighty I'ruit. 
 I see a yielding iji the looks of France; 
 Mark, how they whisper: urge them, while their 
 
 souls 
 Are capable of this ambition : 
 Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath 
 Of soft petitions, pity aiid remorse. 
 Cool and congeal again to what it wa.s. 
 
 I Cit. Why answer not the double majesties 
 This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town? 
 
 A'. Phi. Speak England tirst, that hath been for- 
 ward first 
 To speak upon this city: What .say j-ou? 
 
 A". John. II that the Dauphin there, thy princely 
 son. 
 Can in this book of beauty read, I love, 
 Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen : 
 For Anjou, and fair 'Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, 
 And all that we upon this side the sea 
 {E.xcept tliis city now by us besieged) 
 Find liable to our crown and dignity. 
 Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich 
 In titles, honors, and promotions. 
 As she in beauty, education, blood. 
 Holds hand with any princess of the world. 
 
 K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy? look into the 
 lady's face. 
 
 Lew. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find 
 A wonder, or a wonderous miracle. 
 The shadow of myself form'd in her eye; 
 Which, being but the shadow of your son. 
 Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow: 
 1 do protest. I never lov'd myself. 
 Till now infixed 1 beheld myself. 
 Drawn in the fiattering table of her eye. 
 
 ( Whlipers with BLANCH. 
 
 Ba.^t. Drawn in the flattering table other eye! — 
 Hang'd in the frowning wrinlde of her brow!— 
 And quarter'd in her heart!— he doth espy 
 
 Himself love's traitor; This is pity now, 
 That hang'd. and drawn, and quarter'd, there 
 
 .should be. 
 In such a love, so vile a lout as he. 
 
 Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine: 
 If he see aught in you, that makes him like. 
 That any thing he sees, which moves his hking, 
 I can with case translate it to my will; 
 Or, if you will, (to speak more properly,) 
 1 will entorce it easily to my love. 
 Further I will not flatter you, my lord, 
 That all 1 see in you is worthy love. 
 Than Ibis— that nothing do I see in you, 
 (Though churlish thoughts themselves should be 
 
 your judge,) 
 That 1 can find should merit any hate. 
 
 K. John. What say these young. ones? What 
 say you, my niece? 
 
 Blanch. That she is bound in honor still to do 
 What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say. 
 
 A". Jvhn. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you 
 love this lady ? 
 
 Leu: Nay, .ask me if I can refrain from love; 
 For I do love her most unleignedly. 
 
 A'. John. Then I do give Volqucssen, Touraine, 
 Maine, 
 Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, 
 With her to thee; and this addition more. 
 Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. — 
 
288 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Philip of Fmnce, if thou be pleas'd withal, 
 Command tliy son and daughter to join liands. 
 
 K. Fhi. It likes us well ;— Young princes, close 
 your hands. 
 
 Amt. And your lips too; for, I am well assured. 
 That I did so, when I was first assured.' 
 
 A'. Phi. Now. citizens of Anglers, ope your gates. 
 Let in that amity which you have made; 
 For at Saint ;\Iary's chapel, presently. 
 The rites of marriage shall be solemuiz'd.^ 
 Is not the lady Constance in this troop!— 
 I know, she is not; for this match, made up. 
 Her presence would have interrupted much:— 
 Where is she and her son ? tell me, who knows. 
 
 Lew. She is sad and passionate^at your highness' 
 lent. 
 
 K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we 
 have made. 
 Will give her sadness very little cure. — 
 Brother of England, how "may we content 
 This widow lady ! In her right we came: 
 Which we, God'knows, have turn'd another way, 
 To our own vantage. 
 
 A'. Jiihn. We will heal up all; 
 
 For well create youus Arthur duke of Bretagne, 
 And carl of Richmond; and this rich lair town 
 We make him lord of.— Call the lady Constance; 
 Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
 To our solemnity:- 1 trust we shall. 
 If not fill up the measure of her will. 
 Yet in some measure satisfy her so. 
 That we shall stop her exclamation. 
 Go we. as well as haste will suller us. 
 To this unlook'd (or unprepared pomp. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut the Bastard.— TAc Citizens 
 retire from the Walls. 
 
 Basi. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! 
 
 John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole. 
 
 Hath willingly departed with a part: 
 
 And France, (whose armor conscience buckled on; 
 
 Whom zeal and charity brought to the field, 
 
 As God's ovm soldier,) rounded' in the ear 
 
 With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil; 
 
 That broker, that still breaks the pate of iaith; 
 
 That daily break-vow; he that wins of all, 
 
 Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids;— 
 
 Who having no external thing to loose 
 
 But the word maid, — cheats the poor maid of that 
 
 That smooth-faced gentleman, tickhng commodity, 
 
 Commodity, the bias of the world, 
 
 Tlie world^ who of itself is pciscd' well, 
 
 Made to run even, upon even ground ; 
 
 Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias, 
 
 This sway of motion, this commodity, 
 
 Makes it take head from all indirtijrency. 
 
 From all direction, purpose, course, intent: 
 
 And this same bias, this commodity. 
 
 This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, 
 
 Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, 
 
 Hath drawn him from his own dctermin'd aid, 
 
 From a resolv'd and honorable war. 
 
 To a most base and viie-concluded peace. — 
 
 And why rail I on this commodityl 
 
 But for because he hath not woo'd me yet: 
 
 Not that I have the power to clutch' my hand. 
 
 When his fair angels" would salute my palm : 
 
 But for my hand, as unattempted yet. 
 
 Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. 
 
 Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail. 
 
 And say, — there is no sin, but to be rich; 
 
 And being rich, my virtue tl;en shall be, 
 
 To say, — there is no vice but beggary; 
 
 Since kings break faith upon commodity, 
 
 Gain, be my lord! tor I will worship thee! \_Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— The French King's Teat. 
 Enter Coxstasce, Arthcr, and Salisbury. 
 
 Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a 
 peace ! 
 False blood to false blood, join'd! Gone to be friends! 
 Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those pro- 
 vinces 1 
 It is not so; thou hast mis-spoke, misheard; 
 Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again: 
 It cannot be; thou dost but say, 'tis so: 
 I trust, I may not trust thee; tor thy word 
 Is but the vain breath of a common man: 
 Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; 
 I liave a king's oath to the contrary. 
 Thou Shalt be punish'd tor thus frighting me, 
 For lam sick, and capable ^ of fears ; 
 Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; 
 A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; 
 A woman, naturally bom to fears; 
 And though thou now confess, thou didst hut jest 
 With myvex'd spirits, I cannot take a truce. 
 But they will quake and tremble all this day. 
 What Anal thou mean by shaking of thy head? 
 Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 
 What means that hand upon that breast of thine? 
 Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum. 
 Like a proud river "peering* o'er his bounds] 
 Be these sad signs confinuers of thy words? 
 Then speak again; not all thy former tale. 
 But this one word; whether thy tale be true. 
 
 Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think tliem false 
 That give you cause to prove my saying true. 
 
 Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, 
 Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; 
 And let belief and life encoimter so. 
 As doth the fury of two desperate men. 
 Which, in the very meeting, fall, and die. — 
 Lewis marry Blanch ! O, boy. then where art thou? 
 France friend with England! what becomes of me? — 
 Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy slight; 
 This nexvs hath made thee a most ugly man. 
 
 Sal. What other harm have I. good lady, done. 
 But spoke the harm that is by others done! 
 
 'AfEancetl 2 Mom-nful. 
 
 ^Susceptible. * Appearing. 
 
 Cimst. Which harm within itself so henious is, 
 As it makes harmful all that speak of it. 
 
 Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. 
 
 Ct))isMf thou, that bid'st me be content, v^'ert grim, 
 Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb. 
 Full of unplcasing blots, and sightless' stains, 
 Lame, foolish, crooked, swarth, prodigiou.s,'' 
 Patch'd with foul nwles, and e\e-oItiMidi*ng raarka, 
 I would not care, I then would be content; 
 For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou 
 Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
 But thou art tjiir; and at thy birth, dear boy! 
 Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: 
 Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast. 
 And with the half-blown rose: but fortune, O! 
 She is corrupted, changed, and won trom thee; 
 She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; 
 And with het golden hand hath pluck'd on France 
 To tread down fair respect of sovereignty. 
 And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. 
 France is a bawd to fortune, and king John; 
 That strumpet fortune, that usurping John:— 
 Tell me, thou fellow, is not France tbrswom? 
 Envenom him with words; or get thee gone, 
 And leave those woes alone, which I alone 
 Am bound to under-bear. 
 
 Sal. Pardon me. madam, 
 
 I may not go without you to the kings. 
 
 Const. Thou mayst, thou shalt, 1 will not go with 
 thee: 
 I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; 
 For grief is prouci, and makes his owner stout. 
 To me, and to the state' of my great grief. 
 Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great. 
 That no supporter but the huge firm earth 
 Can hold it up: here I and sorrow sit; 
 Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. • 
 
 [She throws herself on the ground. 
 
 Enter Kino John, Kixg Piiilii>, Lewis, Blanch, 
 Elinob, Bastard, Austria, and Attendants. 
 K. Phi. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed 
 
 day 
 * Conspired. ^ Interest. ' Poised, balanced. 
 
 'Clasp. "Coin. ' I'nsiglitlv. 
 
 ^Monstrous. ^Biyuity. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 289 
 
 Everin France shall be kept festival: 
 To solemnize this d:iy, the glorious sun 
 Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist; 
 Turning with splendor of his precious eye, 
 The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold: 
 The yearlj- course, that brings this day about, 
 Shall never sec it but a iiolyday. 
 
 Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday ! 
 
 [Rising. 
 What hath this day deservM; what hath it done; 
 That it in golden letters should be set, 
 Among the liigh tides, in the calendar] 
 Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week; 
 This day of shame, oppression, perjury: 
 Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child 
 Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, 
 Lest that their hope: prodigiously be cross'd: 
 But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck. 
 No bargains break, that are not this day made; 
 This day, all things begun come to ill end; 
 Yea, faith itself to hollow falseliood change! 
 
 K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause 
 To curse the fair proceedings of this day: 
 Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty 1 
 
 Canst. You have bcgniPd me with a counterfeit. 
 Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd and tried, 
 Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn; 
 You came in arms to spill my enemies* blood. 
 But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: 
 The grappling vigor and rougJi frown of war, 
 Is cold in amity and painted peace. 
 And our oppression hath made up this league:— 
 Arm. arm, you heavens. agaiiist these perjur\ildngs! 
 A widow cries: be husband to me. heavens! 
 Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
 Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, 
 Set armed discord 'twixt these perjut'd kings! 
 Hear me, O, hear me! 
 
 Aust. Lady Constance, peace. 
 
 Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. 
 Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost siiame 
 That bloody spoil: Thou slave, thou wretch, thou 
 
 coward; 
 Thou little valiant, great in villany ! 
 Thou ever strong ui)on the stronger side ! 
 Thou fortune's chamjiion. that dost never fight 
 But W'hen her humorous latiyship is by 
 To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too. 
 And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, 
 A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
 Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave. 
 Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side] 
 Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend 
 Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? 
 And dost thou now^ tall over to mv toes? 
 Thou wear a lion's hide! doflfit' for shame. 
 And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs. 
 
 Aust. O, that a man should speak those words to 
 me! 
 
 Bast. And Iiang a cali"'s skin on those recreant 
 limbs. 
 
 Aust. Thou dar'st not say so villain, for thy life. 
 
 Bast. And hang a calf's skin on those recreant 
 limbs. 
 
 K. John. We like not this: thou dost forget thyself. 
 Enter Pandi-lph. 
 
 K. Phi. Here'comcs the holy legate of the pope. 
 
 Pund. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! — 
 To thee, king John, my holy errand is. 
 T Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal. 
 And from pope Innocent the legate here, 
 Do, in his name, religiously demand, 
 why thou against the church, our holy mother. 
 So wilfuly dost spurn; and, force pertbrce. 
 Keep Stephen Langton. chosen archbishop 
 Of Canterbury, from that holy see? 
 This in our 'Ibresaid holy lather's name, 
 Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. 
 
 K, John. V.'hat earthly name to interrogatories 
 Can task the free breath of a sacred king? 
 Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name 
 So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous. 
 To charge me to an answer, as the pope. 
 Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England, 
 Add thus much more, — That no Itahan priest 
 5hall tith or toll in our dominions; 
 But as we under heaven are supreme head. 
 
 *Val it off. 
 
 19 
 
 .So. under him, that great supremacy". 
 Where we do reign, we will alone uphold. 
 Without the assistance of a mortal hand: 
 So tell tlie pope; all reverence set apart. 
 To him, and his usnrp'd authority. 
 
 K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme iij 
 this. 
 
 K. John. Though you, and all the kings of Chris- 
 tendom, 
 .Ire led so grossly by this meddling priest. 
 Dreading the curse that money may buy out; 
 And. by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust. 
 Purchase corrupted pardon ofa man. 
 Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself: 
 TJiough >"ou, and all the rest, so grossly led. 
 This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish ; 
 Yet I. alone, alone do me oppose 
 Against the pope, and count his fi-iends my foes, 
 
 Puml. Then, by the lawful power that I'have, 
 Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate; 
 .\nd blessed shall he be, that doth revolt 
 From his allegiance to a heretic; 
 And meritorious shall that hand be calPd, 
 Canonized, and worship'd as a saint, 
 That take away by any secret course 
 Thy hateful liie. 
 
 Const. O, lawful let it be. 
 
 That I have room with Rome to curse a while! 
 fiood lather cardinal, cry thou, amen. 
 To my keen curse; for, without my WTong, 
 There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. 
 
 Paint. There's la wand warrant, lady, ibr my curse. 
 
 Const. .\nd for mine too; when law can do no right, 
 Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong: 
 Law cannot give my ciiild his kingdom here; 
 For he. that holds his Idngdom, holds the law: 
 Therelbre, since law itself is perfect wrong. 
 How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? 
 
 Paiid. Philip of France, on peril ofa curse. 
 Let go tlie hand of that arch-heretic; 
 And raise tlie power of France upon his head. 
 Unless he do submit himself to Rome. 
 
 Eli. Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go 
 thy hand. 
 
 Const. Look to that, devil! lest tliat France re- 
 pent. 
 And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. 
 
 Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. 
 
 Bast. And hang a calf's skin on his recreant limbs. 
 
 Aust. Well, ruflian, I must pocket up these 
 wrongs. 
 Because 
 
 Ba.st. Your breeches best may carry them. 
 
 K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal? 
 
 Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal? 
 
 Letv. Bethink yon, father: for the ditTerence 
 Is. purchase ofa heavy curse from Rome, 
 Or the ligiu loss of England for a friend: 
 Forego the easier. 
 
 Blanch. That's the curse of Rome. 
 
 Const. Lewis, stand last; the devil tempts Ihce 
 here. 
 In likeness ofa new untrimmed bride. 
 
 Blanch, the lady Constance speaks not from her 
 faith. 
 But from her need. 
 
 C(nist. , 0, if thou grant my need, 
 
 which only lives but by the death of faitli. 
 
 That need must needs infer this principle, 
 
 That faith would live again by death of need; 
 
 O. then, tread down my need, and laith mounts up; 
 
 Keep mv need up, and faith is trodden downi. 
 
 A'. Jolin. The king is mov'd. and answers not to 
 this. 
 
 Const. O, be remov'd from him, and answer well. 
 
 Aust. Do so, king Philip; Jiang no more in doubt. 
 
 Bast. Hang nothing but a calf's skin, most sweet 
 lout. 
 
 K. Phi. I am perplex'd, andlcnownotwhattosaj'. 
 
 Pand. What canst thou say, but will pcrple,'; thee 
 more, 
 If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd? 
 
 K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person 
 yours. 
 And tell" me, how you would bestow yourself. 
 This royal hand and mine are newly knit; 
 ,\nd the conjunction of our inward souls 
 Married in league, coupled and link'd together 
 \Vith all religious strength of sacred vows; 
 The latest breath that gave the sound of words, 
 
2'.)0 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Was docp-svvom faith, peace, amity, true love, 
 Between our liingdoins, and our royal selves; • 
 And even before this trnco, but new before,^ 
 No Junker than we well could wasli our Iiands, 
 
 To clap this royal barj^ain up of peace, 
 
 Heaven Iv'iiows, they vi'erc besmear'd and overstainM 
 
 With slau:<hter^s pencil; where revenge did paint 
 
 The foarl'ul difference of incensed kings; 
 
 And shall these hands so lately purged of blood, 
 
 So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, 
 
 Unyoke 'this seizure, and this kind regreet !» 
 
 Play fast and loose witli faith] so jest with heaven, 
 
 Make such unconstant children of yourselves. 
 
 As now again to snatch our palm from palm; 
 
 Unswear taith sworn; and on the marriage bed 
 
 Of smiling peace to march a bloody host. 
 
 And make a riot on the gentle brow 
 
 Of true sincerity? holy sir, 
 
 jMy reverend father, let it not he so : 
 
 Out of your grace, clo\isc, ordain, impose 
 
 Some gentle order; and iImii wc shall be bless'd 
 
 To do our pleasure, and contiiuie friends. 
 
 Pan-t. All form is lormless, order orderless, 
 Save what is opposite to England's love. 
 Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church! 
 Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, 
 A mother's curse, on her revolting son. 
 France, thou inayst hold a serpent by the tongue, 
 A cased lion by the mortal paw, 
 A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, 
 Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost 
 hold. 
 
 K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. 
 
 Pan L So mak'st thou faith an enemy to tiiith; 
 And, l)ke a civil war, sett'st oath to oath, 
 Tiiy loiiguo against thy tongue. O, let thy vow 
 First m;ule tu^iieaven, hrst be to heaven performM; 
 That is, to be the champion of our church! 
 Wliat since thou swnr'st, is sworn against thyself. 
 And may not be performed by thyself; 
 For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss. 
 Is not atniss when it is truly done ; 
 And being not done, where doing tends to ill. 
 The truth is then most done not doing it: 
 The better act of purposes mistook 
 Is, to mistake again; though indirect, 
 Yet indirection thereby grows direct, 
 And fahsehood, falsehood cures; as fire cools fire. 
 Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd. 
 It is religion, that doth make vows kept; 
 But thou hast sworn against religion; 
 By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou 
 
 swear'st ; 
 And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth 
 Against an oath : Tlie truth thou art unsure 
 To swear, swear only not to be forsworn : 
 Else, what a mockery should it be to swear? 
 But tliou dost swear only to be forsworn; 
 And most Ibrsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. 
 Therefore, thy latter vows, against thy first. 
 Is in thyself rebellion to thyself: 
 And better conquest never canst thou make, 
 Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts 
 Against those giddy loose suggestions: 
 Upon which better part our prayers cotne in. 
 If thou vouchsale tiiem; lint, if not, then know. 
 The peril of our curses light on thee ; 
 So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them olT, 
 But, in despair, die under their lilack weight. 
 
 Aiisl. Rebellion, flat rebellion! 
 
 B«.•^^ Will't not be ? 
 
 Will not a calf's skin stop that inouth of thine ! 
 
 Lew Father, to arms! 
 
 Blanch. Upon thy wedding day! 
 
 Against the blood that thou hast married? 
 What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd 
 
 men? 
 Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums, — 
 Clami/rs of hell, — be measures" to our pomp? 
 O, husband, hear me! — ah, alack, how now 
 Is hnsliiind in my mouth! — even for that name, 
 Whicli till this time my tongue did ne'er jn'onounce, 
 Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms 
 Against mine uncle. 
 
 CVj«.s7. 0, upon my knee, 
 
 Madi\ hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee. 
 Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom 
 Fore-thought by heaven. 
 
 * Exchange of salutation. 
 
 ^ Music for tlancing. 
 
 Blanch. Now shall I see thy love; what motive 
 may 
 Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? 
 Co?ist. That which uplioldeth him tliat thee up- 
 holds. 
 His honor; O, thine hoifor, Lewas, thine honor! 
 
 Lca\ I muse,' your majesty doth seem so cold. 
 When such profound respects do pull you on. 
 Paiid. I will denounce a curse upon his head. 
 K. Phi. Thou Shalt not need:— England, I'll fall 
 
 from thee. 
 Const. fair return of banish 'd majesty! 
 Ell. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! 
 A". John. France, thou shalt rue this hour within 
 
 this hour. 
 Bast. Old Time, the clock-setter, that bald sexton 
 Time, 
 Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue. 
 Blanch. The sun's o'ercast with blood; Fair dfiy, 
 adieu! 
 Which IS the side that I must go withal? 
 I am with both: each army hath a hand; " 
 And, in their rage, I having hold of both. 
 They whirl asunder, and dismember me. 
 Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; 
 Uncle, 1 needs must pray that thou mayst lose; 
 Father, I may not wish ihc fortune thine; 
 Oraudam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive: 
 Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose; 
 Assured loss belijre the match be play'd. 
 Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy Ibrtune lies. 
 Blanch. There where my fortiuie lives, there my 
 
 life dies. 
 K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance® to- 
 gether. — [Exit Bastard. 
 France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath; 
 A rage, whose heat hath this condition, 
 Thaf nothing can allay, nothing but blood, 
 The blood, and dearest-valued blood of France. 
 K. Phi. Thy rage shall bum thee up, and thou 
 shalt turn 
 To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: 
 Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. 
 K. John. No more tlian he that threats. — To 
 arms let's hie! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.~Plains near Anglers. 
 
 Alarums; E.vcursions. Enter the Bastard, iixith 
 ArSTKiA's hear!. 
 
 Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous 
 hot; 
 Some airy devil hovers in the sky, 
 And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there, 
 While Piiilip breathes. 
 
 Enter Kmr, John, Arthur, and Hobert. 
 
 A'. JoA;;. Hubert, keep this boy: — Philip, make up 
 My mother is assailed in our tent. 
 And ta'en, I fear. 
 
 Btts/. My lord, I rescued her; 
 
 Her highness is in safety, fear you not: 
 But on, my liege: for very little pains 
 Will bring this labor to a happy end. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE in.— The same. 
 
 Alnrums; Excursinns; Retreat. £n/er KtNG John, 
 Elinor. Arthur, the Bastard, HuCekt, and Lords. 
 
 A'. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay 
 behind, [To Elinor. 
 
 So strongly guarded. — Cousin, look not sad: 
 
 [To Arthur. 
 Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will 
 As dear be to thee as thy father was.' 
 
 Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief. 
 
 A'. John. Cousin, [To, the Bastard,] away for 
 England; haste before: 
 And ere our coming, see thou shake the bags 
 Of hoarding abbots; angels^ imprison'd 
 Set thou at liberty: the Hit ribs of pence 
 Must by the hungry now be fed upon: 
 Use our commission in its utmost force. 
 
 Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me 
 back, 
 When gold and silver becks me to come on. 
 I leave your highness: — Grandam, I will pray 
 (If ever I remember to be holy) 
 For your fair safety; so I Idss your hand. 
 
 ' Wonder. 
 
 ^Forces. 
 
 "Gold COIQ. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KIXG JOHN. 
 
 291 
 
 Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin. 
 
 K. John. Coz, faiewell. 
 
 [Lxii Bastard. 
 
 Hi. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. 
 [t>/ie lakes Authck asitit 
 
 K. Jckn. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle 
 i'lubert, 
 Wc owe thee much; within this wall of flesh 
 There .s a sii.!, comits tliee licr ercditor, 
 And with advantage means to pay thy love: 
 And, my aooo friend, thy volnntairy oath 
 Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. 
 Give me thy liand. I had a thing to say,— 
 But I will lit it with some better lime. 
 By heaven, Hu!)crt, 1 am almost ashamed 
 To say what good respect I have of thee. 
 
 Hull. 1 am much boundcn to your majesty. 
 
 A'. JuKn. Good friend, tliou hast no cause to say 
 so yet: 
 But thou shall have; and creep time ne'er so slow. 
 Yet it sliall come, for nic to do thee good. 
 I had^ thing to say, — but let it go: 
 The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 
 Attended witli the pleasures of the world, 
 Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,' 
 To give me audience: — If the midnight bell 
 Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
 Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ; 
 If this same were a church-yard where we stand. 
 And thou possessed with a thousand wiongs; 
 Or if that surly spirit, melancholy. 
 Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick; 
 (Which, else, runs tickling up and down th-. veins, 
 Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes. 
 And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
 A passion liateful to my purposes;) 
 Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes. 
 Hear mc without thine ears, and make reply 
 Without a tongue, using conceit' alone. 
 Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound ofwoiJs 
 Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
 I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: 
 But, ah, I will not:— Yet I love thee well; 
 And, by my troth, I tliink tliou lov'st me well. 
 
 Hubl So well, that what you bid me undertake. 
 Though that my death were adjunct' to my act. 
 By heaven, I'd do't. 
 
 A'. Jvhn. Do not I know, thou wouldsf! 
 
 Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye 
 On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, 
 He IS a very serpent in my way; 
 And, whercsoe'er this foot of mine doth tread. 
 He Ues before me; Dost thou understand mel 
 Thou art his keeper. 
 
 Huh. .\nd I will keep him so, 
 
 That he shall not offend your majesty. 
 
 K. John. Death. 
 
 Hub. Jly >"«i ! 
 
 K. John. A grave. 
 
 Huh. He shall not live. 
 
 A". Joh7i. Enough. 
 
 I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee; 
 Well, I'll not say what 1 intend for thee; 
 
 Remember. Madam, fare you well; 
 
 I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. 
 
 Eli. My blessing go with thee! 
 
 K. John. For England, cousin : 
 
 Hubert shall be your man, attend on you 
 With aU true duty.— On toward Calais, ho! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— TAe same. The French King's Tent. 
 
 Enter Kixa Philip, Lsms, Pandcxph, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 K. Phi. So, hy a roaring tempest on the flood, 
 A whole armado^ of convicted* sail 
 Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. 
 
 Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yetgowell. 
 
 K. PhL What can go well, when we have run 
 so ill? 
 Are we not beaten 1 Is not Anglers lost? 
 Arthur ta'en prisoner ! divers dear friends slain? 
 And bloody England into England gone, 
 O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? 
 
 Lew What he hath won, that hath he fortified; 
 So hoi a speed with such advice dispos'd. 
 
 1 Showy ornaments. 2 Conception. 
 ' Fleet of war. ' Overcome. 
 
 3 Joined. 
 
 Such temperate order in so fierce a cause. 
 Doth want example : Who hath read, or heard. 
 Of any kindred action like to this? 
 AT. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this 
 praise, 
 So wo could fmd some pattern of our shame. 
 
 Enter Constance. 
 Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; 
 Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, 
 In the vile prison of afflicted breath: — 
 I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me. 
 
 f'a:iM. Lo, now'! now see the issue of your peace! 
 
 K. Phi. Patience, good lady ! comfort, gentle 
 Constance! 
 
 Const. No, I defy* all counsel, all redress. 
 But that which ends all counsel, true redress, 
 Death, death: — amiable lovely Death! 
 Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! 
 Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, 
 Thou hate and terror to prosperity. 
 And I will kiss thy detestable bones; 
 And put my eye- balls in thy vaulty brows; 
 And ring these fingers with thy household worms; 
 And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, 
 And be a carrion monster like thyself: 
 Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st. 
 And buss thee as thy wile! Misery's love, 
 O, come to me. 
 
 A'. Phi. O fair affliction, peace. 
 
 Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry:— 
 
 tliat my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! 
 Then with a passion would I shako the world; 
 And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, 
 Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, 
 Which scorns a modern' invocation. 
 
 Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow 
 Const. Thou art not holy lo belie me so; 
 
 1 am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine; 
 
 My name is Constance; I was Geftrey's wife; 
 Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: 
 1 am fiot mad; I would to heaven, I were! 
 For then, 'tis like I slmuld forget myself: 
 O, if I could, wluit grief should I forget! — 
 Preach some philosopliy to make me mad, 
 A.id thou shall be canohiz'd, cardinal; 
 For, being not mad, but sensible of grief. 
 My reasonable part produces reason 
 How I .iiay be deliver'd of these woes. 
 And teaches me to kill or hang myself: 
 If I were mad. I .should forget my son: 
 Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: 
 I am not mad; too well, too well I feel 
 The different plague of each calamity. 
 
 K. Phi. Bind up th.^se tresses: 0, what love I note 
 In the fair multitude of those her hairs! 
 Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen. 
 Even to that 'drop ten thousand wiry friends 
 Do glue themselves in sociable grief; 
 Like true, inseparable, faithful loves. 
 Sticking together in calamity. 
 
 Comf. To England, if you will. 
 
 A'. Phi. Bind up your hairs. 
 
 Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I 
 do it? 
 I tore them from their bonds: and cried aloud, 
 
 tliat the.ie hands could so redeem my son. 
 As they have ^ivcn these hairs their liberty! 
 But now I envy at their liberty. 
 
 And will again commit them to their bonds, 
 
 Because my poor child is a prisoner. 
 
 And, lather cardinal. I have heard you say. 
 
 That we shall see and kTiow our friends in heaven; 
 
 If that be true, I shall see mv boy again : 
 
 For since the birth of Cain, the first male child. 
 
 To him that did but yesterday suspire,* 
 
 There was not such a gracious" creature born. 
 
 But now will canker sorrow eat my bud. 
 
 And chase the native beauty from his check. 
 
 And he will look as liollow as a ghost; 
 
 As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; 
 
 And so he'll die; and, rising so again. 
 
 When 1 shall meet him in tlie court of heaven 
 
 1 shall not Iniow him: therefore never, never 
 Must 1 behold my pretty Arthur more. 
 
 Pand. You hold too henious a respect of grief. 
 
 Const. He talks to me that never had a son. 
 
 A'. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. 
 
 « Refuse. 'Common sjjreathe. o Graceful. 
 
292 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Const. Grief Alls the room up of my absent child, 
 Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; 
 Puts on Ins pretty looks, repeats his words, 
 Remembers me of all his gracious parts. 
 Studs out his vacant garments with his fonn; 
 Tf Ml have I reason to be fond of grief. 
 I'are you well: had you such a loss as I, 
 I could give better comfort than you do.— 
 I will not keep this form upon my head, 
 
 [Tearing off her head-dress. 
 When there is such disorder in my wit. 
 O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! 
 My life, my joy, my food, my all the world ! 
 Mv widovv-corhfort, and my sorrow's cure. [Ei-U. 
 K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Lew. There's nothing in tliis world can make 
 me joy: 
 Life IS as tedious as a twice-told tale. 
 Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; 
 And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's 
 
 taste. 
 That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. 
 
 Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, 
 Even in the instant of repair and healt'i. 
 The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, 
 On their departure most of all show evil: 
 What have you lost, by losing of this day? 
 Lew. All clays of glory, joy, and happiness. 
 Pand. If you had vcon it, certainly you had. 
 No, no: when fortune means to men most good, 
 She looks upon them with a threatening eye. 
 'lis strange, to think how much King John hath 
 
 lost 
 In this which he accounts so clearly won: 
 Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner? 
 Lew. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. 
 Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. 
 Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ; 
 For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
 Sh.Ul blow each dust, each straw, each little rub. 
 Out of the path which shall directly lead 
 Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark: 
 John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be, 
 That, whiles warm lite plays in that infant's veins, 
 The misplaced John should entertain an hour. 
 One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: 
 A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand, 
 Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd: 
 And he that stands upon a slippery place, 
 
 Makes nice of no vde hold to stay him uji: 
 Tliat John may stand, tlien Arthur needs must fall' 
 So be it, ibr it cannot be but so. 
 Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's 
 
 fall! 
 Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch, your wife, 
 May then malie all the claim that Arthur did. 
 Lew. .\nd lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. 
 Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old 
 world! 
 John lays you plots; the times conspire will jou: 
 For he that steeps his safety in true blood, 
 Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. 
 This act, so erilly born, shall cool the hearts 
 Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal; 
 That none so small advantage shall step forth, 
 To check his reign, but they will cherish it: 
 \o natural exhalation in the sky. 
 No scape of nature, no distemper'd day, 
 No common wind, no customed event. 
 But they will pluck away his natural cause, 
 And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, 
 Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, 
 Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. 
 Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's 
 life, 
 But holds himself fcoie.in his prisonment. 
 
 Pa«^i. O, sir, when he shall hear of our approach, 
 If that young Arthur be not gonemlready. 
 Even at that news he dies: and then the heart 
 Of all his people shall revolt fi-om him, 
 .\nd kiss the lips of unacquainted change: 
 And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath, 
 but of the bloody fingers' ends of John. 
 Methinks, I see this burly all on foot; 
 And, 0, what better matter breeds for you. 
 Than I have named!— The bastard Fuuleonbridge 
 Is now in England, ransacking the church, 
 Otiending charity : If but a dozen French 
 Were there in arms, they would be as a call 
 To tram ten thousand English to their side; 
 Or, as a little snow, tumbled about. 
 Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, 
 Go with me to the king : ' Tis wonderful. 
 What may be wrought out of their discontent: 
 Now that their souls are topful of otlence. 
 For England go ; I will whet on the king. 
 Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions; Let 
 us go; 
 If you say, "ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT W. 
 
 SCENE I.— Nortliampton. A Room m the Castle. 
 
 Enter Hubert and two Attendants. 
 Hub. Heat me these irons hot: and look thou 
 stand 
 Within the arras:' when I strike ray foot 
 Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth : 
 And bind the boy, which you shall find with me. 
 Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. 
 ] Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out the 
 
 deed. 
 Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look 
 to't. — ' [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 Young lad, come forth; I Iiave to say with you. 
 Eiiter Arthcr. 
 
 Arth. Good-morrow, Hubert. 
 
 Huh. Good-morroiv, little prince. 
 
 Arth. As little prince (having so great a title 
 To be more prince) as may be.— You are sad. 
 
 Huh. Indeed, I have been merrier. 
 
 Arth,. Mercy on me! 
 
 Methinks, no body should be sad but I : 
 Yet I remember, when I was in France, 
 Y'oung gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
 Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
 So I were out of prison and kept sheep, 
 I should be merry as the day is long; 
 And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
 My uncle practises more harm to me : 
 He is afraid of me, and I of him: 
 
 1 Tapestry. 
 
 Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? 
 
 No, indeed, is't not; And I would to heaven, 
 
 I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 
 He will awake my mercy which lies dead: 
 Therefore, I will be sudden and despatch. [Aside. 
 
 Arth. Are you sick, Hubert! you look pale to 
 day : 
 In sooth, I would you were a little sick. 
 That I miglit sit all night, and watch with you: 
 I warrant I love you more than you do me. 
 
 Hub. His words do take jiossession of my bosom. 
 Read here, young Arthur. [Hhowins a paper.] How 
 now, foolish rheum ! [^ride. 
 
 Turning dispiteous torture out of door! 
 I must be brief; lest resolution drop 
 Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. — 
 Can you not read it? is it not fair writ? 
 
 Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul eflijct: 
 Must you witli hot irons burn out both mine eyes? 
 
 Huh. Young boy, I must. 
 
 Arth. And will you ? 
 
 Hub. And I will. 
 
 Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did 
 but ache, 
 I kmit my handkerchief about your brows, 
 (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
 And I did never ask it you aaain: 
 ,\nd with my hand at midnight held your hef.d, 
 And, like the watchful minutes to the hour. 
 Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; 
 Saying, What lack you? and. Where lies your grief? 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 293 
 
 Or, What good love may I perform for 5-ou ? 
 Many a jioor man's son would have lain still 
 And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; 
 But you at your sick service liad a prince. 
 Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, 
 And calling it cunning; Do, an il'you will: 
 If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, 
 Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes'! 
 These eyes, that never did, nor never shall, 
 So much as frown on you? 
 
 Hub. I have sworn to do it; 
 
 And with hot irons must I burn them out. 
 
 Arfh. Ah, none, but in this iron age. would do it! 
 The iron ofitself, though heat red-hot. 
 Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, 
 And quench his fiery indignation, 
 Even in the matter of mine innocence: 
 Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
 But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
 Are you more stubljorn-hard than hanimer'd iron? 
 An if an angel should have come to me. 
 And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
 I would not have believ'd no tongue, but Hubert's. 
 
 Hub. Come forth. [H/amps. 
 
 Re-enter Attendants, zvith Cord, Irons, <Sc. 
 
 Do as I bid you do. 
 
 Artk. 0, .save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes 
 are out. 
 Even with the tierce looks of these bloody men. 
 
 Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind iiim here. 
 
 Arth. Alas! what need you be so boist'rous rough? 
 I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
 For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! 
 jVay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men aw ay, 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; 
 I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
 Nor look upon the iron angerly; 
 Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you. 
 Whatever torment you do put me to. 
 
 Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. 
 
 1 Attend. I am best pleas'd to be from such a 
 deed. [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 Artli. Alas! I then have chid away my friend; 
 He hath a stem look, but a gentle heart: — 
 Let him come back, that his compassion may 
 Give life to yours. 
 
 Huh. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 
 
 Art/i. Is there no remedy? 
 
 Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 
 
 Artft. heaven! — that there w-ere but a mote in 
 yours, 
 A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair. 
 Any annoyance in that precious sense! 
 Then, feeling what small thingsarc boist'rous there. 
 Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
 
 Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your 
 tongue. 
 
 Artli. Hubert, the ntteranceofa brace of tongues 
 Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: 
 Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert! 
 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue. 
 So I may keep mine eyes; 0, spare mine eyes; 
 Though to no use, but still to look on you! 
 Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, 
 And would not harm me. 
 
 Hub. I can heat it, boy. 
 
 Artli. No. in good sooth : the fire is dead with grief, 
 Being create lor comibrt, to be used 
 In uhdeserv'd extremes :» See else, yourself; 
 There is no malice in this burning coal; 
 The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 
 And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. 
 
 Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 
 
 Artli. And if you do, you will but make if blush. 
 And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: 
 Nay, It, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes; 
 .\nd, like a dog that is compell'd to light. 
 Snatch at his master that doth tarre' him on. 
 All things, that you should use to do me wrong, 
 iJeny their office: only you do lack 
 That mercy, which tierce fire, and iron, extends, 
 Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. 
 
 Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes 
 Fcr all the treasure that thine uncle owes:* 
 Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
 With this same very iron to burn them out. 
 
 'Tn cruelty I have not deserved. 
 "Set him on. 
 
 •Owns. 
 
 Arth. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this while 
 You were disguised. 
 
 Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu; 
 
 Your uncle must not know but you are dead: 
 I'll fill these dogged spies with lalse reports. 
 And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure. 
 That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
 Will not ollend thee. 
 
 Arth. O heaven! — I thank you, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely^ in with rae; 
 Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Rootn if State in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Joh.v, crowned,- Pembroke, SALisnruY, 
 and other Lords. The King takes his Utalc. 
 
 K. John. Here once again we sit, once again 
 
 • crown'd. 
 
 And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. 
 
 Pent. This once again, but that your highness 
 pleas'd. 
 Was once superlluous: you were crown'd before. 
 And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd oil'; 
 The faiths oi'men ne^er stained with revolt; 
 Fresh expectation troubled not the land. 
 With any long'd-for change, or better state. 
 
 Sal. Therefore, to be posscss'd with double pomp. 
 To guard "^ a title that was rich before, 
 To gild refined gold, to paint the Ldy, 
 To throw a perfume on the violet. 
 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
 ITnto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
 To seek the beauteous eye ol heaven to garnish,' 
 Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 
 
 Pent. Hut that your royal pleasure must be 
 done, 
 This act is as an ancient tale new told ; 
 And, in the last repeating, troublesome, 
 Being urged at a tune unseasonable. 
 
 SV//. In this the antique and well-noted face 
 Of plain old form is ranch disfigured: 
 And, like a shifted wind unto a sail. 
 It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about: 
 Startles and frights consideration; 
 Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 
 For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. 
 
 Pent. When workmen strive to do better than well, 
 They do confound their skill in covetousness:** 
 And", oftentimes, excusing of a lault. 
 Doth make the liiult the worse by the excuse; 
 As patches set upon a little breach. 
 Discredit more in hiding of the lault. 
 Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. 
 
 Sal. To Ibis etfect belbre you were new crown'd. 
 We brealh'd our counsel: but it plcas"d your 
 
 highness 
 To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; 
 Since al! and every part of what we would. 
 Doth make a stand at what your highness will. 
 
 A'. John. Some reasons of this double coronation 
 I have posscs'd you with, and think them strong; 
 And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) 
 I shall indue you with: Jlean time, but a.sk 
 What you would have relbrm'd that is not well; 
 And well shall you perceive, how willingly 
 I will both hear and grant you your requests. 
 
 Pern. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of tiiese 
 To sound^ the purjioses of all their hearts,) 
 Both for myself and them, (but chief of all. 
 Your safety, for the which myself and them 
 Bend their best studies,) heartily request 
 The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint 
 Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent 
 To break into this dangerous argument, — 
 If, what in rest you have, in right you hold. 
 Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend 
 The steps of wrong.) should move you to mew up 
 Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days 
 With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youtll 
 The rich advantage of good exercise? 
 That the time's enemies may not have this 
 To grace occasions, let it be our suit. 
 That you have bid us ask his liberty; 
 Which for our goods we do no further ask. 
 Than whereupon our weal, on you depending. 
 Counts it your weal, lie have his liberty. 
 
 A'. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth 
 
 ^Secretly. ^Lace. 
 
 * Desire of excelling. 
 
 'Decorate 
 'Publish. 
 
294 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 E/ltCr HCEERT. 
 
 To your tiirection.— Hubert, what news with you? 
 Fern. This is the man should do the bloody deed; 
 He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: 
 The imaM of a wicked henious fault 
 Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his 
 Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast; 
 And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done, 
 What we so lear'd he had a charge to do. 
 
 Sal. The color of the king doth come and go, 
 Between his purpose and his conscience. 
 Like heralds twixt two dreadful battles set: 
 His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 
 
 Pern. And, when it breaks,! fear, will issue thence 
 The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. 
 K. Jvhn. We cannot hold mortality's strong 
 hand:^ . . • 
 
 Good lorils, althoush my will to give is hving, 
 The suit which you demand is gone and dead: 
 He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night. 
 
 Sal. Indeed, we tear'd, his sickness was past cure. 
 Pern. Indeed we heard how near his death he was, 
 Before the child himself felt lie was sick: 
 This must be answer'd, either here, or hence. 
 K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows 
 on mc^ 
 Think you, I bear the shears of destiny 7 
 Have rcommandment on the pulse ol life ! 
 
 Sal. It is apparent Ibul play; and 'tis shame, 
 That greatness should so grossly ofter it: 
 So thrive it in your game! and so larewell. 
 
 Pern. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee. 
 And lind the inheritance of this poor child, 
 This little kingdom of a forced grave. 
 That blood, which ow'd' the breadth of all this isle, 
 Three foot of it dotii hold: Bad world the while! 
 This must not be thus borne: this will break out 
 To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 K. John. They burn in indignation; I repent; 
 There is no sure foimdation set on blood; 
 No certain life achiev'd by others' death. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 A fearful eye thou hast: Where is that blood, 
 That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks! 
 So foul a sky clears not without a storm : 
 Pour down the weather:— How goes aU in France! 
 Mess. From France to England.— Never such a 
 power 
 For any foreign preparation. 
 Was li'Vicd ill the body of a land! 
 Tiie copy of your speed is learn'd by them; 
 For, when you should be told they do prepare, 
 The tidings come, that they are all arrived. 
 K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been 
 drunk? 
 Where hath it slept ! Where is my mother's care. 
 That such an army could be drawn in France, 
 And she not hear ot it ? 
 
 Mess. My liege, her ear 
 
 Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died 
 Your noble mother: And, as I hear, my lord, 
 The lady Constance in a frenzy died 
 Three days before: but this from rumor's tongue 
 I idly heard; if true, or false, I know not. 
 
 K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion; 
 O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd 
 My discontented peers!— What! mother dead? 
 How wildly then walks my estate in France!— 
 Under whosi' conduct came those powders of France, 
 That thou liir truth iiiv'st out, are landed here! 
 Mess. Under the Dauphin. 
 
 Enter tlie Bastard and Peter fif Pomfret. 
 K. John. Thou hast made me giddy 
 
 With these ill tidings.— Now, what says the world 
 To your proceedings? do not seek tostutf 
 My head with more ill news, for it is full. 
 
 Bu.it. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst. 
 Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. 
 
 K. John. Bear with me, cousin ; for I was amaz'd 
 Under the tide; but now I breathe again 
 Aloft the Hood; and can give audience 
 To any tongue speak it of what it will. 
 
 Baxl. How I have sjicd among the clergymen, 
 The sums I have collected shallcxpress. 
 But, as 1 travelled hither through the land, 
 
 1 Owned. 
 
 I tind the people strangely fantasied; 
 Possess'd with rumors, full of idle dreams ; 
 Not Icnowing what they fear, but full of fear: 
 And here's a prophet, that I brought with me 
 From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found 
 With many hundreds treading on his heels: 
 To wiiom he sung, in rood harsh-sounding rhj-mes, 
 That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon. 
 Your highness should deliver up your crown. 
 JC John. Thou idle dreamer, wherelbre didst 
 
 thou so? 
 Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. 
 A". John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; 
 And on that day at noon, whereon, he says, 
 I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: 
 Deliver him to safety," and return. 
 For I must use thee.— O my gentle cousin. 
 
 [Exit HcBERT, with Peter. 
 Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd? 
 Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths are 
 full of it: 
 Besides, 1 met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury, 
 (With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire.) 
 And others more, going to seek the grave 
 Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night 
 On your suggestion. 
 
 A. John. ■ Gentle kinsman, go. 
 
 And thrust thyself into tlieir companies: 
 I have a vfay to win their loves again; 
 Bring them belbre me. 
 Bust. I will seek them out. 
 
 K. John. Nay, but make haste; the better foot 
 before. — — 
 0, let me have no subject enemies. 
 When adverse foreigners atfright my towns 
 With dreadful pomp of stout invasion!— 
 Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels; 
 And lly, like thought, from them to me again. 
 Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. 
 
 [Ex-it. 
 A". John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentle- 
 man. — 
 Go after him; for he, perhaps, shall need 
 Somi: messenger betwixt me and the peers; 
 And be thou he. ,. • 
 
 Mess. With all my heart, my hege. 
 
 [Ex'it. 
 K. John. My mother dead! 
 
 Re-enter Hubert. 
 
 Hub. My lord, tliey say, five moons were seen 
 to-night: 
 Four fixed; and the fifth did whirl about 
 The other lour, in wond'rous motion. 
 
 K. John. Five moons? 
 
 Hub. Old men, and beldams, m the streets 
 
 Do prophecy upon it dangerously; 
 Youm; Arthur's death is common in their mouths: 
 And wlieii they talk of him, they shake their heads, 
 \nd wliisper one and other in the ear; 
 And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist 
 Wliilst he, that hears, makes fearful action. 
 With wrinkled lirows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 
 I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 
 Tlie whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 
 \Vith open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; 
 Who, with his shears and measure in his hand. 
 Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste 
 H«d falsely thrust upon contrary feet.) 
 Told of a many thousand warlike French, 
 That were embattled and rank'd in Kent: 
 Another lean unwash'd artificer 
 Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 
 
 A". John. Why seck'st thou to possess me with 
 these fears? 
 Why urgesi thou so oft young Arthur's death? 
 Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had mightycause 
 To wish him dead, but thcni hadst none to loll him. 
 
 Hub. Had none, my lord ! why, did you not pro- 
 voke me ? 
 
 A'. John. It is the curse of kings, to he attended 
 By slaves, that take their humors for a warrant 
 To break within the bloody house of life: 
 And, on the winking of authority. 
 To understand a law; to know'the meaning 
 Of dangerous m.ajestv, when, perchance, it frowns 
 More upon humor th'aii advis'd respect. = 
 Hub. Here is your hand and seal tor what I did. 
 
 s Safe custody. ' Deliberate consideration 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 295 
 
 K. Jufin. 0, ^vhen the last account 'twixt heaven 
 and earth 
 Is to be made, tlien shall this hand and sea] 
 Witness against us to damnation! 
 How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 
 Makes deeds ill done ! Hadest not thou been by, 
 A fellow by the hand of nature raark'd. 
 Quoted,' and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, 
 This murder had not came into my mind: 
 But, taking note of thy abborr'd aspect, 
 Finding thee fit for bloody viUany, 
 Apt, liable, to be employ 'd in danger, 
 I laintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; 
 And tliou, to be endeared to a king. 
 Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. 
 
 Hub. My lord, 
 
 K. Juhn. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or 
 made a pause, 
 Wlien I spake darkly what I purposed; 
 Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face. 
 As bid me tell my tale in express words; 
 Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break 
 
 off, 
 And those thy fears might have WTOUglit fears in me: 
 But thou didst understand me by my signs, 
 And didst in signs again parley with sin: 
 Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, 
 And. consequently, thy rude hand to act 
 The deed, which both our tongues held vile to 
 
 name, — 
 Out of my sight, and never see me more! 
 My nobles leave me; and my state is braved. 
 Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers: 
 Nay in the body of this fleshly land. 
 Tills kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, 
 Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
 Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. 
 
 Hvb. Arm you against your other enemies, 
 rU make a peace between your soul and you. 
 Young Arthur is alive: This hand of mine 
 Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand. 
 Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
 Within mis bosom never enter'd yet 
 The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought. 
 And you have slander'd nature in my form; 
 Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, 
 Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
 Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 
 K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the 
 peers. 
 Throw this report on their incensed rage, 
 And make them tame to their obedience! 
 Forgive the comment that my passion made 
 Upon tliy feature; for my rage was blind, 
 And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
 Presented thee more hideous than thou art. 
 O, answer not; but to my closet bring 
 The angry lords, with all expedient haste: 
 I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lU.— Before the Castle. 
 
 Enter ABTHCn, on the Walls. 
 
 Arlh. The wall is high; and yet will I leap down: 
 Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not ! — 
 There's few, or none, do know me; if they did, 
 This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. 
 I am airraid; and yet I'll venture it. 
 If I get down, and do not break»my limbs, 
 I'll find a thousand sliifls to get away; 
 As good to die, and go, as die, and stay. 
 
 [Leaps down. 
 O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones: — 
 Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! 
 
 [Dies. 
 Enter Pemehoke, Salisbury, and Bigot. 
 
 Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmund's 
 Bury; 
 It is our safety, and we must embrace 
 This gentle offer of the perilous time. 
 
 Feni. VV^ho brougiit that letter from the cardinal? 
 
 Hal. The count Melum, a noble lord of France; 
 Whose private with me,* of the Dauphin's love. 
 Is much more general than these lines import. 
 
 Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. 
 
 Sal. Or, rather then set Ibrward: for 'twill be 
 Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet. 
 
 •Noted, observed. 'Private account. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 Bast. Once more to-day well met, distempered" 
 lords! ■. ^ 
 
 The king, by me, requests your presence straight. 
 
 Sal. The king hath dispossessed himself of us; 
 We will not line his thin bcstained cloak 
 With OUT pure honors, nor attend the foot 
 That leaves the print of blood where"er it walks: 
 Return, and tell him so ; we know the worst. 
 Bust. WhateVr you think, good words, 1 think, 
 
 were best. 
 Sal. Our griefs, and not ourmanners, reason now 
 Bast. Buf there is little reason in your grief; , 
 Therefore, 'twere reason you had manners now. \ 
 Pern. Sir. sir, impatience hath his privilege. 
 Bast. 'Tis true; to hurt his master, no man else. 
 Sal. This is the prison: What is he lies here? 
 
 [Seeing Aktucr. 
 Pern. O death, madeproud with pure and princely 
 beauty ! 
 The earth had not a hole to hide this deed- 
 
 Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done. 
 Doth lav it open, to urge on revenge. 
 
 .Big. Or when he dooni'd this beauty to a grave. 
 Found it too precious-princely for a grave. 
 Sal. Sir Richard, what tliink you? Have you 
 beheld. 
 Or have you read, or heard? or could jou thnikl 
 Or do you almost think, although you see. 
 That you do see? could thought, without this object. 
 Form such another? This is the very top. 
 The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest. 
 Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, 
 The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke. 
 That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, 
 Presented to the tears of soft remorse.' 
 
 Pern. All murders past do stand excused in this: 
 And this, so sole, and so unmatchable, 
 Shall give a holi,ness, a purity. 
 To the yet-unbegotten sin of time; 
 And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, 
 Exampled by this henious spectacle. 
 
 Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work; 
 The graceless action of a heavy hand, 
 If that it be the work of any hand. 
 
 Sal. If that it be the work of any hand?— 
 We had a kind of light, what would ensue: 
 It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; 
 The practice, and the purpose, of the king:— 
 From whose obedience I Ibrbid my soul, 
 Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life. 
 And breathing to his breathless excellence 
 The incense of a vow; a holy vow; 
 Never to taste the pleasure* of the world, 
 Never to be infected with delight. 
 Nor convei-sant with ease and idleness. 
 Till I have set a glory to this hand. 
 By giving it the worship of revenge. 
 Pern. Big. Our souls religiously confirm thy 
 words. 
 
 Enter Hubekt. 
 
 Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you: 
 Arthur doth live; the king hath sent lor you. 
 Sal. 0, he is bold, and blushes not at death:— 
 Lvaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! 
 
 Avaunt, . 
 Hub. I am no a villain. 
 Sal. 
 
 Jlust I rob the law? 
 [Drawitfg his swcrd. 
 Bast. Your sword is bright, sir: put it up again. 
 Sal. Not till I sheaihe it in a murderer's skin. 
 Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I 
 
 By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours: 
 I would not have vou, lord, forget yourself. 
 Nor tempt the dangerof my trucS defence; 
 Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget 
 Your worth, your greatness, and nohihty. 
 
 Big. Out, dunghill! dar'st thou brave a noble 
 man? . „ . 
 
 Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend 
 My innocent life against an emperor. 
 
 Sal. Thou art a murderer. 
 
 }{n 5. Do not prove me so ;" 
 
 Yet, I am none: Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, 
 Not' truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. 
 
 Pern. Cut him to pieces. 
 
 6 Out of bumor. 
 ^Honest. 
 
 'Pity. 
 
 BBy compelling me to kill yoa. 
 
296 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Bast. Keep the peace, I say. 
 
 Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbnclge. 
 
 Bast. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury: 
 If tliou but frown on me, or stir thy foot. 
 Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, 
 I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime; 
 Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, 
 That you shall think the devil is come from hell. 
 
 Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulcon- 
 bridge? 
 Second a villain, and a murderer? 
 
 Huh. Lord Bigot, I am none. 
 
 Big. Who kill'd this prince? 
 
 Huh. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well: 
 I honor'd him, I lov'd him; and will weep 
 My date of lite out, for his sweet life's loss. 
 
 Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, 
 For viUany is not without such rheum;* 
 And tie, long traded in it, makes it seem 
 Like rivers of remorse'' and innocency. 
 Away, witli me, all you whose souls abhor 
 The uncleanly savors of a slaughter-house, 
 For I am stilled with the smell of sin. 
 
 Big. Away, toward liury, to the Dauphin there. 
 
 Pent. There, tell tile king, he may inquire us out. 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 Bast. Here's a good world ! — Knew you of this 
 fair work! 
 Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
 Of mercy, if thou did.^t tliis deed of death, 
 Art lliou damn'd, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Do but hear me, sir. 
 
 Bast. Ha ! I'll tell tliee what; 
 Thou art damn'd as black — nay, nothing is so black; 
 Thou art more deep damn'd tlian prince Lucifer: 
 There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
 As tliou shall be, if thou didst IdU this child. 
 
 Hub. Upon my soul, 
 
 Bast. If thou didst but consent 
 
 To this most cruel act, do but despair. 
 And, if thou vvant'st a cord, tlie smallest thread 
 That ever spider twisted from her womb 
 Will serve to strangle thee: a rush will be 
 Abeam to hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown 
 
 thyself, 
 Put but a little water in a spoon. 
 And it shall be as all the ocean, 
 
 Enougli to stifle such a villain up. 
 
 I do suspect thee very grievously. 
 
 Huh. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, 
 Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
 Which was cmbounded in this beauteous clay, 
 Let hell want pains enough to torture me! 
 I left him well. 
 
 Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms. — 
 
 I am aniaz'd, methinks; and lose my way 
 Among the thorns and dangers of this world. — 
 How easy dost thou take all England up ! 
 From forth this morsel of dead royalty, 
 The lil'e, the right, and trutli of all this realm 
 Is lied to heaven ; and England now is left 
 To tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth 
 The uhowed< interest of proud swelling state. 
 Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty, 
 Dotli dogged war bristle liis angry clest, * 
 
 And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: 
 Now powers from home, and discontents at home 
 Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits 
 (As doth a raven on a sick-liillen beast) 
 The imminent decay of wrested pomp. 
 Now happy lie, whose cloak and cincture* can 
 Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, 
 And follow me with speed; I'll to the king: 
 A thousand businesses are brief in hand. 
 And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.~A Room in the Falace. 
 
 Enter KiSG JoHN,PANDULpn iviih Ike Crown, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 K, John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand 
 The circle of ray glory. 
 
 Pand. Take again 
 
 [Giving John ihe Crown. 
 From this my hand, as^olding of the pope, 
 Your sovereign greatness and authority. 
 
 K. John. Now keep your holy word: go meet 
 the French ; 
 And from his holintss use all your power 
 To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflamed. 
 Our discontented counties do revolt; 
 Our people quarrel with obedience; 
 Swearing iillegiance, and the love of soul. 
 To stranger blood, to foreign loyalty. 
 This inundation of distempcrM humor 
 Rests by 5'ou only to be qualified. 
 Then pause not; for the present time''s so sick, 
 That present medicine must be ministerM, 
 Or overthrow incurable ensues. 
 
 Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, 
 Upon your stubborn usage of the pope: 
 But since you are a gentle convertite,^ 
 My tongvie shall husli a^ain this storm of war, 
 And make fair weather in your blustering land. 
 On this Ascension-day, remember well, 
 Upon your oath of service to the pope, 
 Go I to make the Frcnchlay down theirarms. [Exit 
 
 K. John, Is this Ascension-day 1 Did not the 
 prophet 
 Say. that, before Ascension-day at noon. 
 My crown I should give ofl? Even so I nave: 
 I did suppose it sliould bo on constraint; 
 But heaven be thankM, it is but voluntary. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 Sast. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds 
 out. 
 But Dover castle: London hath receivM, 
 Like a kind host, the Daui>hin and his powers: 
 
 1 Moisture* 
 
 a Pity. 
 
 ^Convert. 
 
 Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
 To ofter service to your enemy; 
 And wild amazement hurries up and down 
 The little number of your doui)tful friends. 
 
 A". J'}hn. Wouldnot my lords return to me again, 
 After they heard youn^ Arthur was alive! 
 
 Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the 
 streets; 
 An empty casket, where the jewel of life 
 By some curst hand was robb'd and ta'en away. 
 
 K. John. That villain Hubert told me he did live 
 
 Ba.'it. So. on my soul, he did, for aught he knew 
 But wherefore do you droop \ wliy look you sad ] 
 Be great in act, as you liave been in thought; 
 Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust, 
 Govern the motion of a kingly eye: 
 Be stirring as the time; be tire with fire; 
 Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow 
 Of braii^iing honor: so shall inferior eyes. 
 That borrow their behaviors Irom the great, 
 Grow great by your example, and put on 
 The dauntless spirit of resolution. 
 Away; and glister like the god of war. 
 When he intcndetij to become the lield: 
 Show boldness, and aspiring confidence. 
 What, shall they seek llie lion in his den. 
 And fright him there? and make him tremble there? 
 O. let it not be said! — Forai;e, and run 
 To meet displeasure further from the doors; 
 And grapple with him, ere he comes so nigh. 
 
 K. John., The legate of the pope hath been with 
 me. 
 And I have made a happy peace with him ; 
 And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers 
 Led by the Dauphin, 
 
 Bast. O inglorious league! 
 
 Shall we, upon the footing of our land. 
 Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, 
 Insinimtion, parley, and base truce. 
 To arms invasive] Shall a beardless boy. 
 A cocker'd^ silken wanton, brave our fields 
 And liesh his spirit in a warlike soil. 
 Mocking the air with colors idly spread. 
 
 * Unowned. 
 
 ^ Girdle. 
 
 " Fondled 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 297 
 
 And find no checks Let us, my iiege, to arms: 
 Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace; 
 Or if he do, let it at least be said, 
 rhey saw we had a purpose of defence. 
 
 K. John. Have thou the ordering of this present 
 time. 
 
 Bast. Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, 
 Our party may weli meet a prouder foe. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— yl Plain 7iear St. Edmund's Bury. 
 
 Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Melcn, 
 Pembroke, Bigot, and Soldiers. 
 
 Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, 
 And keep it safe for our remembrance: 
 Return the precedent to these lords again; 
 That, having our fair order written down, 
 - Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes. 
 May know wherefore we took the sacrament, 
 And keep our liiiths firm and inviolable. 
 
 Snl. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. 
 And. noble Dauphin, albeit we swear 
 A voluntary zeal, and unurged faith. 
 To your ])r'oceedings; yet, believe me, prince, 
 I am not glad tliat such a sore of time 
 Should hcek a plaster by coutemn'd revolt. 
 And Ileal tlie inveterate canker of one wound, 
 By makijig many: O, it grieves my soul, 
 Tliat I must draw this metal from my side 
 To be a widow-maker; O, and there, 
 Wiiere honorable rescue, and defence. 
 Cries out upon the name of Salisbury: 
 But such is the infection of the time. 
 That, lor the health and physic of our right, 
 We cannot deal but with the very hand 
 Of stern injustice and confused wrong. — 
 And is'tnot pity, O my grieved friends! 
 That we, the sons and children of this isle, 
 Were born to sec so sad an hour as this; 
 Wherein we stc]i after a stranger march 
 Upon lier giiulc bosom, and fill up 
 Her ciiemiis' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep 
 Upon the spot of this cnlbiced cause,) 
 To grace llic gentry of a land remote. 
 And fbll.iw unacquainted colors here? 
 What here!— nation, thift thou couldst remove! 
 That Neptune's arms, wlio clipped' thee about. 
 Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, 
 And grapple thee unto a pagan shore; 
 Where these two Christian armies might combine 
 The blood of malice in a vein of league, 
 And not to spend it so unneighborly ! 
 
 if w. A noble temper dost thou sliow in this; 
 And great all'cctions wrcslling in thy bosom. 
 Do make an earthquake of uoliility. 
 O, wljat a noble combat hast thou" fought. 
 Between ccpjiiinilsion and a brave respect!' 
 Let nie wiie oil iliis honm-able dew. 
 Thai silviTly doth progress on thy cheeks: 
 My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
 Being an ordinary inundation; 
 But this cftusioii«f such manly drops. 
 This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul. 
 Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd 
 Than had I seen the vanity top of heaven 
 Figur'd i|uite o'er with burning meteors. 
 Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, 
 And with a great lieartTicave away this storm : 
 Commend these waters to those baby eyes, 
 That never saw the giant world enraged; 
 Nor met with fortune other than at feasts. 
 Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 
 Come, come ; lor thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep 
 Into the purse of rich prosperity. 
 As Lewis himself:— so, noble, shall you all. 
 That Imit your sinews to the strength of mine. 
 
 Enter Pandulph, attended. 
 And even there, metliinks, an angel spake: 
 Look, where the holy legate comes apace. 
 To give us warrant from the hand of heaven; 
 And oil our actions set the name of right, 
 With holy breath. 
 
 Fund. Hail, noble prince of France! 
 
 The next is this, — king .lohn hath reconciled 
 }liul^elf to Rome; his spirit is come in. 
 Thai so stood out against the holy church, 
 The great metropolis and see of Rome: 
 
 'Embraceth. 
 
 ^ Love of country. 
 
 Therefore thy tlireat'ning colors now wind up, 
 And tame the savage spirit of wild war; 
 That, hke a lion fosterd up at hand. 
 It may lie gently at the foot of peace. 
 And be no further harmful than in show. 
 
 Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not 
 back; 
 I am too high-bom to be propertied,' 
 To be a secondary at control. 
 Or useful .serviug-man, an instrument. 
 To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
 Vour brealli first kindled the dead coal of wars, 
 Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself. 
 And brought in matter that should feed tins fire; 
 And now 'tis lar too liuge to be blown out 
 With that same weak wind which enkindled it. 
 You taught me how to know the lace of right, 
 Aciuainted me with interest to this land. 
 Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; 
 Antl come you now to tell me, John hath made 
 His peace with Romel What is that peace to mc! 
 I, by the honor of my marriage-bed. 
 After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; 
 And, now it is half-conquered, must I back. 
 Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? 
 Ami Rome's slave! What penny hath Rome borne, 
 What men provided, what munition sent, 
 To underprop this action^ is't not I, 
 That undergo this charge? who else but I, 
 And such as to my claim are liable, 
 Sweat in this business, and maintain this war? 
 Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 
 Vive le ruy! as I have bank'd their towns? 
 Have I not here the best cards lor the game. 
 To win this easy match play'd for a crown \ 
 And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? 
 No, on my soul, it never shall be said. 
 
 Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. 
 
 Lew. Outside or inside, 1 will not return 
 Till my attempt so''much be glorified 
 As to my ample hope was promised 
 Before I drew this g lUant head of war, 
 And cull'd these fiery spirits tfom the world. 
 To outlook ' conquest, and to win renown 
 Even in the jaws of danger and of death. — 
 
 [Trumpet sounds, 
 What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ? 
 
 Enter the Bastard, attended. 
 
 Ba.'^t. According to the fair play of the world, 
 Let me have audience; I am sent to speak: — 
 My holy lord of Milan, from the king 
 I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; 
 And, as you answer, 1 do know. the scope 
 And warrant limited unto my tongue. 
 
 Pand. The Dauphin is too williil-opposite, 
 And will not temporize with my entreaties; 
 He fiatly says, he 11 not lay down his arms. 
 
 Bast. By all the blood that ever fury Iireath'd, 
 The youth says well: — Now hear our English king; 
 For thus his royalty doth spenk in me. 
 He is prejiared'; and reason too, he should: 
 This apish and unmannerly approach, 
 This liarncss'd masque, and unadvised revel, 
 This unhair'd saucincss, and boyish troops. 
 The Iving doth smile at; and is well prepar'd 
 To whip the dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 
 From out the circle of his territories. 
 That hand which liad the strength, even at your 
 
 door. 
 To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;' 
 To dive like buckets, in concealed wells; 
 To crouch in litter of your stable planks; 
 To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and triinks; 
 To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out 
 In vaults and prisons; and to thrill and shake, 
 Even at the crying of your nation's crow.^ 
 Thinking his voice an armed Englishman; 
 Shall that victorious hand be fecbled here. 
 That in your chambers gave you chastisement? 
 No: Know the gallant monarch is in arms; 
 And like an eagle o'er his aiery* towers. 
 To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.— 
 And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts. 
 You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb 
 Of your dear mother England, blush for shame: 
 For your own ladies, and pale-visaged maids, 
 Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; 
 
 8 Appropriated. ^ Face down. ^ Leap over the hatch. 
 3 The crowing of a cock. *Nest. 
 
298 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Their tliimWcs into armed gauntlets change. 
 Their neeldi^'* to lances, and their gentle hearts 
 To tierce and bloody inclination. 
 
 Lew. Tliere end thy brave," and turn thy face in 
 peace; 
 We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; 
 We hold our time too precious to be spent 
 With such a brabbler. 
 
 Pand. Give me leave to speak. 
 
 Bast. No, I will speak. 
 
 Lew. We will attend to neither: — 
 
 Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war 
 Plead for our interest, and our being here. 
 
 Bait. Indeed, your drums being beaten, will cry 
 out; 
 A.nd so sliall you, being beaten: Do but start 
 An echo with the clamor of thy drum. 
 And even at hand a drum is ready braced. 
 That shall reverberate all as loud as thine; 
 Sound but another, and anotlier shall. 
 As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's' ear. 
 And mock the dcep-moutli"d thunder; for at hand 
 (Not trusting to this halting legate here. 
 Whom he hath used rather for sport than need) 
 Is warlike John; and in his Ibrehead sits 
 A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day 
 To feast upon whole thousands of the French, 
 
 Leiv. Strike up our drums to find this danger out. 
 
 Bast. And thou shall find it, Dauphin, do no t doubt . 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Field of Battle. 
 Alarums. Enter King John, and Hijbert. 
 K. John. How goes the day with us ? 0, tell me, 
 
 Hubert. 
 IJub. Badly, 1 fear: How fares your majesty? 
 K. John. This fever, t hat hath troubled me so long, 
 Lies heavy on me: 0, my heart is sick! 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon- 
 bri'dge. 
 Desires your majesty to leave the field; 
 And send Iiim word'by me, which way you go. 
 K. John. Tell him toward Swinstead, to the 
 
 alibey there. 
 Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply 
 That was expected by the Dauphin here. 
 Are wreck'd three niglits ago on Goodwin sands. 
 This news was brouglit to Richard but even now: 
 The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. 
 A'. Jolin. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up. 
 
 And will not let me welcome this good news. 
 
 Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight: 
 Weakness possesscth me, and I am faint. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Another Part of the same. 
 
 Enter Salisbobt, Pembroke, Bigot, and others. 
 
 Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. 
 
 Pern. Up once again; put spirit in the French; 
 If they miscarry, we miscarry too. 
 
 Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, 
 In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. 
 
 Pern. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left 
 
 the tield. 
 Enter Melcs wounded, and led by Soldiers. 
 
 Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. 
 
 Sal. When we were happy, we had other names. 
 
 Pern. It is tlie count Melun. 
 
 Sal. Wounded to death. 
 
 Mel. Fly, noble English, you are boughtand sold ;" 
 Unthread the rude eye of rebellion. 
 And welcome home airain discarded faith. 
 Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; 
 For, if Ilic French be lords of this loud day, 
 He' means to recompense the pains you take. 
 By cutting otFjour heads: Thus hatn he sworn, 
 Aiid I with liim, and many more with me, 
 Upon the altar at St. Edmund's Bury; 
 Even on that altar, where we swore to you 
 Dear amity and everlasting love. 
 
 Sul. May this be f)ossible? may this be true? 
 
 Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view, 
 Retaining but a quantity of life; 
 Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax 
 Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire!' 
 
 'NeeiUea. » Boast. 'Sky. 
 
 A proverb intimating treachery. ^ Lewis. 
 
 In allusion to tLe images maile by witches. 
 
 What in the world should make nie now deceive, 
 
 Since I must lose the use of all deceit ! 
 
 Why sliould I then be lalse; since it is true 
 
 That I must die here, and live hence by truth'! 
 
 I .'iay again, if Lewis do win the day. 
 
 He IS forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours 
 
 Behold another day break in the east: 
 
 But even this night, — whose black contagious breath 
 
 Already smokes about the burning crest 
 
 Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, — 
 
 Even this ill night your breathing shall expire; 
 
 Paying the fine of rated treachery, 
 
 Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, 
 
 If Lewis by your assistance win the day. 
 
 Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; 
 
 The love of him, — and this respect besides. 
 
 For that my grandsire was an Englishman, — 
 
 Awakes my conscience to confess all this. 
 
 In lieu whereof, I pray you bear me hence 
 
 From forth the noise and rumor of the field; 
 
 Where I may tiiink the remnant of my thoughts 
 
 In peace, and part this body and my soul 
 
 With contemplation and devout desires. 
 
 Sal. Wc do believe thee. — And beshrew my soul 
 But I do love the favor and the form 
 Of this most fair occasion, by the which 
 We will untread the steps of damned flight; 
 And, like a bated and retired flood. 
 Leaving our rankness and irregular course. 
 Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, 
 And calmly run on in obedience. 
 
 Even to our ocean, to our great king John. 
 
 My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; 
 Fo'r I do see the cruel pangs of death 
 Right in tliine eye. — A way, my friends ! Newflight: 
 And happy newness,* that intends old right. 
 
 [Exeunt, leading njf Melun. 
 
 SCEiVE \.—The French Camp. 
 Enter Lewis and his Train. 
 Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to 
 set; 
 But stay'd and made the western welkin blush. 
 When the English measur'd backward their own 
 
 grounci, . 
 
 In faint retire: 0, bravely came we ofii 
 When with a volley of our needless shot, 
 .\fter such bloody toil we bid good night; 
 And wound our tatter'd colors clearly up, 
 Last in the field, and almost lords of it! 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin 7 
 Lew. Here: — What news? 
 
 Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, 
 By his persuasion, are again fall'n otT: 
 And your supply, which you have wisli'd so long. 
 Are cast avray, and sunk, on Goodwin sands. 
 Leiv. Ah, fi^ul shrewd news! — Beshrew thy very 
 neart! 
 I did not think to be so sad to-night, 
 As this hath made me. — Who was he, that said, 
 King John did fly, an hour or two before 
 The stumbling night did part our weary powers? 
 Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. 
 Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care 
 to-night; 
 The dav shall not be up so"oon as I, 
 To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE VI. — An open Place in the A'eighiorhood 
 of Swinstcad-Abbey. 
 
 Enter tlie Bastard and Hubeut meeting. 
 
 Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, oi 
 I shoot. 
 
 Bast. A friend:— What art thou? 
 
 Huh. Of the part of England. 
 
 Bast. AVhilhcr dost thou go? 
 
 Huh. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand 
 Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? 
 
 Bast. Hubert, I think. 
 
 Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought: 
 
 I will, upon all hazards, well believe 
 Thou art my friend, that bion'st my tongue so well: 
 Who art thou? 
 
 Bast. Who thou wilt: on if tliou please. 
 
 Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think 
 I come one way of the Plantagencts. 
 
 * Innovation. 
 
Scene VII. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 299 
 
 Hub. Unkind remembrance! tliou, and eyeless 
 night, 
 Hnve done me shame: — Brave soldier, pardon me, 
 That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, 
 Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. 
 
 Bast. Come, come; sans ^ compliment, what news 
 abroad 1 
 
 Hub. Why, here walk I,in the black brow of night, 
 To find you out. 
 
 Bust. Brief, then; and what's the news? 
 
 Hub. 0, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, 
 Black, fearful, comfortless, and hornble. 
 
 Bust. Show me the very wound of this ill news; 
 I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. 
 
 Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk: 
 I left liira almost speechless, and broke out 
 .To acquaint you with this evil; that you might 
 The better arm you to the sudden time. 
 Than if youhad'at leisure known of this. 
 
 Ba.it. How did he take if. who did taste to himl 
 
 Hub. A monk, I tell you: a resolved villain. 
 Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king 
 Yet speaks, and. peradventure, may recover. 
 
 Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? 
 
 Hub. Why, know you not! the lords are all 
 come back. 
 And brought prince Henry in their company; 
 At whose request the king has pardon'd tliem, 
 And they are all about liis majesty. 
 
 Bast. Withold thine indignation, mighty heaven! 
 
 And tempt us not to bear above our power! 
 
 I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, 
 Passing these flats, are taken by the tide. 
 These Lincoln washes have devoured them ; 
 Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. 
 Away, before ! conduct me to the king; 
 I doubt, he will be dead, or e'er I come. [Exeu7}t. 
 
 SCEXE \n.—Tlie OrcAard o/Swinstead-Abbej'. 
 
 Enter Prince Hexry, Salisbury, and Bigot. 
 
 P. Hen. It is too late; the life of all his blood 
 Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain 
 (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling- 
 house) 
 Doth by the idle comments tliat it makes. 
 Foretell the ending of mortality. 
 Enter Pembroke. 
 
 Pern. His highness yet doth speak; and holds 
 belief, 
 That, being brought into the open air. 
 It would allay the burning quality 
 Of that fell poison which assailcth hira. 
 
 P. Hen. Let hira be brought into the orchard 
 here. — 
 Doth he still rage? [Exit Bigot. 
 
 Pern. He is more patient 
 
 Than when you left him ; even now he sung. 
 
 P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes, 
 In their continuance, will not feel themselves. 
 Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts. 
 Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now 
 Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds 
 With many legions of strange fantasies; 
 Which, in their throng and press to that last hold. 
 Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death 
 
 should sing. 
 
 I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, 
 Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death; 
 And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings 
 His soul and body to their lasting rest. 
 
 Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born 
 To set a tbrra upon that indigest 
 Wliich lie hath left so shapeless and so rude. 
 Re-enter Bigot and Attendants, u-fio bring in King 
 John in a Cliair. 
 
 K. Jultn. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow- 
 room ; 
 It would not out at windows, nor at doors. 
 There is so hot a summer in my bosom. 
 That all my bowels crumble up to dust: 
 I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
 Upon a parchment; and against this fire 
 Do 1 shrink uj). 
 
 P. Hen. How fares your majesty? 
 
 K. John. Poison'd, — ill fare; — dead, forsook, cast 
 off; 
 And none of you will bid the winter coma 
 
 STTithout 
 
 To thrust his icy fingersinmy maw; 
 
 Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
 
 Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north 
 
 To maJie his bleak winds liiss my parched lips. 
 
 And comfort me with cold : — 1 do not ask you much, 
 
 I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait' 
 
 And so ingrateful. you deny me that. 
 
 P. /Je/i. O, that there weresome virtue inmy tears, 
 That might relieve you! 
 
 A'. John. The salt in them is hot. — 
 Within me is a hell; and there tlie poison 
 Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize 
 On unreprievable condemned blood. 
 Enter ttie Bastard. 
 
 Bast. 0, 1 am scalded with my violent motion. 
 And spleen of speed to sec your majesty. 
 
 A'. Julm. Ocousin,thoua"rtcome toset mineeye: 
 The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; 
 And all the shrouds^ wherewith my life should sail, 
 Are turned to one tnread, one little hair; 
 My heart hath one poor string to stay it by. 
 Which holds but till thy news be uttered; 
 And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod. 
 And module^ of confounded royalty. 
 
 Bast. The Dauphin is preparing liitherward; 
 Where, heaven he knows, hov^' we shall answer him: 
 For, in a night, the best part of my power. 
 As I upon advantage diet remove. 
 Were in the washes, all unwarily. 
 Devoured by the unexpected flood. YThe King dies. 
 
 Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an 
 car. — 
 My liege ! my lord ! — But now a king, — now thus. 
 
 P. Hen. Even so must I run on. and even so stop, 
 What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, 
 W'lien this was not a king, and now is clay ! 
 
 Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, 
 To do the office for thee of revenge; 
 And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven. 
 
 As it on earth hath been thy servant still. 
 
 Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, 
 Where be your powers? Show liow your mended 
 
 faitns; 
 And instantly return with me again. 
 To push destruction, and perpetual shame. 
 Out of the weak door of our lUinling land: 
 Straight let us seek, or straight we .shall be sought; 
 The Dauphin rages at our very heels. 
 
 Sal. It seems you know not then so mucli as wc: 
 The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest. 
 Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin; 
 And brings from him such ofiers of our peace 
 As we with honor and respect may take. 
 With purpose presently to leave this war. 
 
 Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees 
 Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. 
 
 Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; 
 For many carriages he hath despatch"d 
 To the se"a-side, and put his cause and quarrel 
 To the disposing of the cardinal: 
 With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, ^^ 
 If you think meet, this afternoon will post 
 To consummate this business happily. 
 
 Bust. Let it be so:— And you. mv noble prince, 
 With oilier princes that may best be spared. 
 Shall wait upon your fatlier's funeral. 
 
 P. Hen. At Worcester must liis body be intcrr'd; 
 For .so he will'd it. 
 
 Bast. Thither shall it then. 
 
 And happily may your sweet self put on 
 The lineal state and glory of the land! 
 To whom, with all submission, on my knee, 
 I do bequeath my faithful services 
 And true subjection everlastingly. 
 
 Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, 
 To rest without a spot for evermore. 
 
 P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you 
 thanks. 
 And k-nows not how to do it, but with tears. 
 
 Bast. 0, let us pay the time but needful woe. 
 Since it hath been beftrehand with our griefs. — 
 Thi 'England never did (nor never shall) 
 Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. 
 But when it first did help tn wound itself. 
 Now these her princes are come home again. 
 Come the three comers of the world in arms. 
 And we shall shock them: Nought shall make usrue, 
 If England to itself do rest but true. [Exewzt. 
 
 * Narrow avaricious. ^ Model. 
 
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 KING EICHAED 11. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KiXG Richard the Secoxd. 
 
 Edmund of Langley, Dufre of Yoik;) Uncles to 
 John op Gaunt, Duke nf Lancaster; j /Ae A'tng. 
 Henry, fniriiamed Bolingbroke, Duke f^' Hereford, 
 Son to John of Gaunt; uflerwarJs K. Plenry IV. 
 Duke of Aumeule. Snn lo the Duke rfYoik. 
 IVIowBRAY, Duke o/Norlblk. 
 Duke of Surrey. 
 
 Earl of Salisbury. Earl Berkeley. 
 Bushy, ) 
 
 Bagot. > Creatures to King Richard. 
 Gkhen, ) 
 
 Earl op Northumberland. 
 Henry Percy, his Son. 
 
 Lord Ross. Lord Willoughby. 
 
 Lord Fitzwater. 
 
 Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot op Westhinsteb. 
 
 Lord Marshal; andanulhtr Lord. 
 
 Siu Pierce of Exton. Sir Stephen Scroop. 
 
 Captain of a Band of Welshmen. 
 
 Queen to King Richard. 
 Duchess op Gloster. 
 Duchess of York. 
 Lady, attending on the Queen. 
 
 Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardctiers, 
 Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, dispersedly in England and Wales. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE L— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Richard, attended: John of Gaust, 
 
 and otiier Nobles, with him. 
 K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honor'd Lan- 
 
 Hast thou, accordins to thy oath and band,' 
 Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son; 
 Here to make good thp boisterous late appeal. 
 Which tiien our leisure would not let us near, 
 Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? 
 Gaunt. I have, mv liese. 
 
 K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded 
 him. 
 If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; 
 Or worthily as a good subject should. 
 On some known ground of treachery in him" 
 Gaunt. As near as I could sift hira on that argu- 
 ment, — 
 On some apparent danger seen in him, 
 Aim'd at your highness; no inveternte malice. 
 K. Rich. Tlien call them to our presence; face 
 to face, 
 And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear 
 The accuser, and the accused, freely speak: 
 
 [Exeunt some Attendants. 
 High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire. 
 In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as lire. 
 
 Re-enter Attendants, with Bolinobeoee and 
 
 Norfolk. 
 Bollng. May many years of happy days befall 
 My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! 
 
 Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; 
 Until tlio heavens, envying earth's good hap, 
 Add an immortal title to your crown! 
 K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flat- 
 ters us, 
 As well appeareth by the cause you come; 
 Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. 
 
 SOO 
 
 'Bona. 
 
 Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object 
 Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas iSlowbray'! 
 
 Baling. First, (heaven be tlie record to my speech!) 
 In the devotion of a subject's love. 
 Tendering the precious safety of my prince, 
 And free ftom other misbegotten hate. 
 Come I appellant to this princely presence. — 
 Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to tliee, 
 And mark ray greeting well; for what I speak, 
 My body shall make good upon this earth. 
 Or mj' divine soul answer it in heaven. 
 Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; 
 Too good to be so, and too bad to live: 
 Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky. 
 The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. 
 Once more, the more to aggravate the note, 
 With a foul traitor's name stutt'I thy throat; 
 And wish, (so please my sovereign.) ere I move. 
 What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may 
 prove. 
 
 Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal' 
 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 
 Tile bitter clamor of two eager tongues. 
 Can nrliitrate this cause betwixt us (wain: 
 Tlio binod is hot, that must be cool'd for this, 
 Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, 
 As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say: 
 First, the tair reverence of your highness curbs me 
 From giving reins and .spurs to my free speech: 
 Which else would post, until it had return'd 
 These terms of treason doubled down his tliroat. 
 Setting aside his high blood's roj'alty, 
 And let him be no kinsman to my liege, 
 I do defy him, and I spit at him ; 
 Call him— a slanderous coward, and a villain: 
 Which to maintain, I would allow him odds. 
 And meet him, were I tied to run a-(bot 
 Even to tlie frozen ridges of the Alps, 
 Or any otlier ground inhabitable," 
 Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. 
 
 'Uninhabitable. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KIKG RICHARD II. 
 
 301 
 
 Mean time, let this ilrliMid my loyalty, — 
 By all my hopes, must liilsely doth he lie. 
 Bating'. Pale tiembliiif coward, there I throw 
 my gage, 
 Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; 
 And lay aside my high blood's royalty, — 
 Which tear, not reverence, makes thee to except: 
 If guilty dread hath Ictl thee so much strength, 
 As to lake up mine honor's pawn, then stoop; 
 By that, and all the rights of Icnighthood else, 
 Will I make good aganist thee, arm to arm, 
 What 1 have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. 
 
 Nfjr. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear. 
 Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, 
 I'll answer thee in any lair degree, 
 Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: 
 And, when I mount, alive may I not light, 
 If I be traitor, or unjustly tight! 
 
 K. Rich. Whatdothourcousinlay to Mowbray's 
 charge ^ 
 It must be great, that can inherit us 
 So much as ofa thought of ill in him. 
 
 Boiing. Look, what I speak my life shall prove 
 it true; — 
 That Mowbray hath receivM eight thousand nobles, 
 In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers; 
 The whicli he hath delaiiTd for lewd employments, 
 Like a lalse traitor, and injurious villain. 
 Besides 1 say, and will in battle prove, — 
 Or here, or elswhere, to tlie furthest verge 
 That ever was survcy'd by English eye,— 
 Tliat all the treasons, for these eighteen j-ears 
 ConipJutted and contrived in this land. 
 Fetch from false Mowbraj' their first head andspring. 
 Further I say, — and further will maintain 
 Upon his bad lile, to make all this good, — 
 Tliat he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; 
 Suggest his soon-believing adversaries; 
 And, consequently, like a traitor coward. 
 Sluiced out his innocent soul tlirough streams of 
 
 blood: 
 Which blood, like sacrificingAbel's, cries. 
 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. 
 To me, for justice, and rough chastisement; 
 And, by the glorious worth of iny descent, 
 This arm shall do it, or this life be spent, 
 
 K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars! — 
 Thomas of Norfolk^ what say'st thou to this? 
 
 Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away Iiis face, 
 And bid his ears a little while be deaf, 
 Till I have told this slander of his blood, 
 How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. 
 
 A^ Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and 
 ears: 
 Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, 
 (As he is but my father's brother's son,) 
 Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow. 
 Such neighbor nearness to our sacred blood 
 Should nuthing privilege him, nor partialize 
 The unstooping firmness of my uprigiit soul; 
 He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ; 
 Free sjieecii, and fearless, 1 do thee allow. 
 
 Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 
 Througli the false passage of thy throat, thou licst. 
 Three parts of that receipt I hail tor Calais, 
 DisbursM I duly to his Inghness' soldiers: 
 The other part reserved I by consent; 
 For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, 
 Upon remainder ofa dear account. 
 Since last I went to France to fetch hjs queen: 
 
 Now swallow down that lie. For Gloster's 
 
 death,— 
 I slew him not; but to my own disgrace. 
 Neglected my sworn duty in tliat case. — 
 For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, 
 The honorable lather to my toey 
 Once did I lay in ambush lor your life, 
 A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul: 
 But. ere I last receiv'd the sacrament, 
 I did confess it; and exactly begg'd 
 Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it. 
 This is my fault: As for the rest appeal'd, 
 It issues from the rancor ofa villain^ 
 A recreant and most degenerate traitor: 
 Wliicli in myself I boldly will defend; 
 And interchangeably hurl down my gage 
 Upon tiiis overweening traitor's foot. 
 To prove myself a loyal gentleman 
 Even in the best blood chamberd in his bosom: 
 
 In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 
 Your hijrhness to assign our trial day. 
 K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rui'd by 
 me; 
 Let's purge this cnolcr without letting blood: 
 This we prescribe, though no physician; 
 Deep malice makes too deep incision : 
 Forget, ibrgive; conclude, and be agreed; 
 Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. — 
 Good uncle, let this end where it begun; 
 We'll calm the duke of Norlblk. 30U your son. 
 
 Gaunt, To be a make-peace shall become my age: 
 Throw down, my son, the duke of Norlblk's gage. 
 A^ Rich. And, Norlblk, tlirow down his. 
 (Jaunt. When, Harry] wheni 
 
 Obedience bids, I should not bid again. 
 A'. Rich. Norlblk, throw down; we bid; there is 
 
 no boot. 3 
 Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot: 
 My lite thou shalt command, but not my shame: 
 Tlie one my duty owes; but my fair name, 
 {Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,) 
 To dark dishonor's use thou shalt not have. 
 I am disgraced, impeach'd, and baffled heYe\ 
 Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear; 
 The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood 
 Which brealh'd this poison. 
 
 K. Rich. Rage must be withstood; 
 
 Give me his gage: — Lions make leopards tame. 
 Nor. Yea but not change their spots: take but 
 my shame, 
 And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, 
 The purest treasure mortal limes alJbrd, 
 Is — spotless reputation; that away. 
 Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay, 
 A jewel in a ten-t.imes-barr'd-up chest 
 Is — a bold spirit in a loyal breast; 
 Mine honor is my life ; both grow in one; 
 Take honor from me, and my hie is done: 
 Then, dear my Iiege, mine honor let me try; 
 In that 1 live, and Ibr that will i die. 
 K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you 
 
 begin. 
 Boling. 0, God defend my soul from such foul sin! 
 Sliall I seem crest-lallen in mv iatiier's sight] 
 Or with pale bcirgar-tear impeach my height 
 Before this out-dared dastard! Ere my tongue 
 Shall wound mine honor with such feeble wrong, 
 Or sound so base a parle. my teeth shall tear 
 The slavish motive of recanting lear; 
 And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, 
 W^here shame doth harbor, even in Mowbray's 
 face. \Kxit Gaunt, 
 
 K. Rich. W^e were not bom to sue, but to com- 
 mand : 
 Which since we cannot do to make you friends, 
 Be ready as your lives shall answer it. 
 At Coventry", upon saint Lambert's day; 
 There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
 The swelling diiference of your settled hate; 
 Since we cannot atone'' you, we shall see 
 Justice desiL-^n^ tiie victor's chivalry. — 
 Marshal, Tomniand our ollicers at arms 
 Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE l\.~The same. A Roomirithe Duke of 
 Lancaster's Palace. 
 
 Enter Gaunt and Duchess of Glostku. 
 
 Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood 
 Doth more solicit me. than your exclaims. 
 To stir against the butchers of his lile. 
 But since correction lieth in those hands. 
 Which made the fault that we cannot correct, 
 Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; 
 Who, when he sees the hours ripe on earth, 
 VVill rain hot vcriL^oance on otfenders' heads. 
 
 Duck. FiiK!--i'iiit)ierhoodin tlieenosharperspur? 
 Hath love in ihy old blood no living firel 
 Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, 
 Were as seven phials of his sacred blood, 
 Or seven fair branches springing from one root: 
 Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, 
 Some of those branches by the destinies cut: 
 But, Thomas, my dear lord, my lite, my Gloster,— 
 One phial full ol Edward's sacred blood. 
 One nourishing branch of his most royal root, — 
 Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; 
 
 3 No advantage in delay. * Reconcile. *Show 
 
302 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act 1, 
 
 Is hack'd down, and his summer loaves all faded, 
 
 By envy's liand, and murder's bloody axe. 
 
 Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that 
 
 womb, 
 That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, 
 Jlada him a man; and though thou liv'st, and 
 
 breath'st. 
 Yet art tliou slain in him; thou dost consent 
 In sojne large measure to thy father's deatli. 
 In tiiat thoij seest thy wretched brother die, 
 Who was the model of thy father's life. 
 Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair: 
 In suliering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, 
 Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, 
 Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: 
 Tlial whicii in mean men we entitle — patience, 
 Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
 What shall I say ! to safeguard thine own life. 
 The best way is — to 'venge my Gloster's death. 
 
 Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's 
 substitute. 
 His deputy anointed in his sight. 
 Hath caus''d his death: the which, if wrongfully, 
 Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift 
 An angry arm against his minister. 
 
 Duck. Where then, alasl may I complain myself? 
 
 Gaunt. To heaven, the wicfow's champion and 
 defence. 
 
 Bncli. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. 
 Thou go'st to Coventry, tiiere to behold 
 Our cousin Hd'eford and lell Mowbray fight: 
 O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, 
 That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!' 
 Or, if misforttuie miss the first career. 
 Be .'\Iowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, 
 TJiat tliey may break his loaming courser's back, 
 And throw the rider lieadlong in tlie lists, 
 A caitilf recreant to my cousin Hereford! 
 Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother's wife, 
 Witli her companion grief must end her life. 
 
 Gaunt. Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry: 
 As much good stay with thee, as go with me! 
 
 Duck. Yet one word more; — Grief boundeth 
 where it falls. 
 Not with the empty hollowncss, but weight: 
 I take my leave belbre I have begun; 
 For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. 
 Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. 
 Lo, this is all:— Nay, yet depart not so: 
 Though this be all, do not so quickly go; 
 I shall remember more. Bid him — 0, what? — 
 With all good speed at Flashy" visit me. 
 Alaclc. and what sliall good old York there see. 
 But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls. 
 Unpeopled oOices, untrodden stones? 
 And wliat cheer there for welcome, but my groans? 
 Therefore commend me; let him not come there. 
 To seek out sorrow that dwells every where: 
 Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die; 
 The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Gosford Green, near Country. 
 Lists set out,unda Throne. Heralds, kc, altending. 
 Enter tlis Lord Marshal and Aumerle. 
 TJar, My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? 
 Aum. Yea. at all points: and longs to enter in. 
 Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold. 
 Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. 
 Aum. W^liy, then the champions are prepared 
 and stay 
 For nothing but his majesty's approach. 
 Flmtrisfi of Trumptts. Enter King Richard, ivlio 
 takci fiii seat on his throne; Gaunt, and several 
 Nolilemen, who take their places. A trumpet «■ 
 sounded, and answered by another trumpet 
 within. Then, enter Norfolk, in armor, preceded 
 bf/ a Herald. 
 
 A'. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion 
 The cause of his arrival here in arms: 
 As!c him his name; and orderly proceed 
 To su-ear him in the justice of his cause. 
 Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who 
 thou art. 
 And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms: 
 i.,-;ainst what man thou com'st, and what thy 
 quarrel : 
 
 "Iler house in EsacK. 
 
 Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath; 
 And so delend thee heaven, and thy valor! 
 Aor. My name is Th«mas Mowbray, duke of 
 Norfolk; 
 Who hither come engaged by my oath, 
 (Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate!) 
 Both to delend my loyalty and truth. 
 To God, my king, and my succeeding issue. 
 Against the duke of Hereford that ap'peals me : 
 And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm, 
 To prove him. in defending of myself, 
 A traitor to my God, my king, and me: 
 And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven! 
 
 [He talces his seat. 
 
 Trumpet sounds. Enter Boungbroke, in armor, 
 preceded by a Herald. 
 
 IC. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms. 
 Both who he is, and why he conieth hither 
 Thus plated in habiliments of war; 
 And formally according to our law 
 Depose him in the justice of his cause. 
 
 Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st 
 thou hither, 
 Before king Richard, in his royal lists? 
 Against wiiom comest thou? and what's thy quar- 
 rel ? 
 Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! 
 
 Soling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 Am I; who ready here do stand in arms. 
 To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valor. 
 In lists, on 'Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, 
 That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous. 
 To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me: 
 And, as I truly fight, delend me heaven! 
 
 Mar. (in pain of death, no person be so bold 
 Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists; 
 Except the marshal, and such ollicers 
 Appointed to direct these fair designs. 
 
 Holing. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's 
 hand, 
 And bow my taiee before his majesty : 
 For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men 
 That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; 
 Then let us take a ceremonious leave. 
 And loving forcwell of our several friends. 
 
 Mar. The appellant in all duty greets j'our high- 
 ness. 
 And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave- 
 
 K. Rich. We will descend, and Ibid him in our 
 arms. 
 Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right. 
 So bo thy fortune in this royal fight! 
 Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed. 
 Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. 
 
 Billing. O, let no noble eye profane a tear 
 For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear; 
 As confident, as is tiie liilcon's (light 
 
 Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. 
 
 Jly loving lord, [To Lord Marshal,] I lake my 
 
 leave of you; — 
 Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle; — 
 Not sick, although I have to tlo with death; 
 
 But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. 
 
 Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet 
 
 The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: 
 
 O thou, the earthly author of my blood, — 
 
 [To Gau.vt. 
 Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate. 
 Doth with a two-fold vigor lilt me up 
 To reach at victory above my head, — ■ 
 Add proof unto mine armor With thy prayers; 
 And with thy blessing stool my lance's point. 
 That it may enter Mowbray's "waxen coat. 
 And furbish now the name'of John of Gaunt, 
 Even in the lustj^ 'havior of his son. 
 
 Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee 
 prosperous! 
 Be swift like lightning in the execution: 
 And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, 
 Fall like amazing thunder on the casque 
 Of thy adverse, pernicious enemy: 
 Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. 
 
 Baling. Aline innocency, and saint George to 
 thrive ! [He talies his seat. 
 
 Nor. [RLfing.] However heaven, or Ibrtune, cast 
 my lot, 
 There lives or dies, true to kiug Richard's throne, 
 A loyal, just, and upright gentleman: 
 Never did captive with a freer heart 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 303 
 
 Cast otThis chains of bondage, and embrace 
 Hi« golden uncontroUM enlranciiisement, 
 I\!ore than my dancing soul doth celebrate 
 This tbast ot battle with mine adversary. — 
 Most mighty liege, — and my companion peers, — 
 Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: 
 As gentle and as jocund, as to jest. 
 Go I to fight; Truth hath a quiet breast. 
 
 A'. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy 
 
 Virtue witli valor couched in thine eye. 
 
 Order the trial, marshal, and begin. 
 
 [The King an'l the Lords re/urn to iheir scats. 
 
 Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 Keceive thy lance; and God defend the riglit ! 
 
 Bolitig. [Ri^'ing.] Strong as a tower in hope, I 
 cry — amen. 
 
 Mar. Go bear this lance, [To an Officer.] to 
 Thomas duke of Norfolk. 
 
 1 Her. Harry of Herelbrd, Lancaster and Derby, 
 Standi here for God, his sovereign, and himself, 
 On pain to be found lalse and recreant. 
 To prove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, 
 A traitor to his God, liis king, and him, 
 And dares him to set Ibrward to the fight. 
 
 'J Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke ot 
 Norfolk, 
 On pain to be Ibund false and recreant. 
 Both to defend himself, and to approve 
 Henry of Herelbrd, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal ; 
 Courageously, and with a free desire, 
 Attending but the signal to begin. 
 
 Mar. Sound trumpets; and set forward, com- 
 batants. [A charge sounded. 
 Stay, the king hath thrown his warder' down. 
 
 K. Rich. Let them lay by tiieir helmets and their 
 spears. 
 And both return back to tiieir chairs again:— 
 Withdraw with us: — and let the trumpets sound, 
 Wliile we return these dukes what we decree. — 
 
 [^4 long flourish. 
 Draw near, [To the combatants. 
 
 And list, what with our council we have done. 
 For that our kingdom's earlh should not be soilM 
 With that dear blood which it halh fostered; 
 And tor our eyes do hate tlie dire aspect 
 Of civil wounds plough'd up wit]ineignbors''swords; 
 [And for we think tlie eagle-winged pride 
 Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts 
 With rival-hating envy, set you on 
 To wake our peace, which in our country ^s cradle 
 Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;] 
 Which so rousM up, with boisterous untuned drums, 
 Witii harsh resoundiug trumpets' dreadful bray, 
 And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, 
 Might from our quiet confmes fright lair peace, 
 And make us wade even in our kindred's blood; — 
 Therefore we banish you our territories; — 
 You, cousin Hereford, nj>on pain of death. 
 Till twice live summers have enrich'd our tields, 
 Shall not regreet our fair dominions, 
 But tread the stranger paths of banishment. 
 
 Boling. Your will be done: This must my com- 
 fort be, 
 
 That sun that warms- you here, shall shine on mc; 
 And those his golden lieams, to you here lent. 
 Shall point on me. and gild my banishment. 
 
 A'. Rich. Norfolk, fortlieereni;iinsaheavjerdoom, 
 Wliich I with some unwilhngni-ss jironounce: 
 Tiic tly-slow hours shall nut determinate 
 Tlie dateless limit of thy dear exile;— 
 The hopeless word of — ^never to return, 
 Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. 
 
 Nnr. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, 
 And all unlookM for from your highness' mouth": 
 A dearer merit, not so deep a maim 
 As to be cast forth in the common air. 
 Have I deserved at your highness' hand. 
 The language I have learn'd these forty years, 
 My native English, now must T forego, 
 And now my tongue's use is to me no more, 
 Than an unstringed viol or a harp; 
 Or, like a cunning instrument cased up, 
 Or, being open, put into his bands 
 That knows no touch to tune the harmony. 
 Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, 
 Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth, and lips; 
 And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance 
 
 'Truncheon 
 
 Is made my gaoler to attend on me. 
 
 I am too old to tawn upon a nurse, 
 
 Too far in years to be a pupil now; 
 
 What is thy sentence, then, but speechless deatli, 
 
 Which robs my tongue from breathingnativebreathi 
 
 K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate; 
 After our sentence, plaining comes too late. 
 
 Nor. Then tiius I turn me from my country 'slight. 
 To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. 
 
 [Rctimng, 
 
 K. Rich. Return again, andtake an oath with thee. 
 Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; 
 Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven, 
 (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,) 
 To keep the oath tliat we administer; — 
 You never shall, (so help you truth and heaven!) 
 Embrace each other's love in banishment; 
 Nor never look upon each other's face; 
 Nor never wl-ite, regreet, nor reconcile 
 This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate; 
 Nor never by advised purpose meet. 
 To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 
 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. 
 
 Boling. I swear. 
 
 Nor. And I, to keep all this. 
 
 Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy; — 
 By this time, had the king permitted us. 
 One of our souls had wander'd in the air, 
 Banish'd this trail sepulchre of our Ilesh, 
 As now our Hcsh is banish'd iVom this land: 
 Conless thy treasons, ere thou Ily the realm: 
 Since thou hast far to go, be:ir not along 
 The clogging burden of a guilty soul. 
 
 Nor. No, Holingljrokc; it ever I were traitor, 
 My name be blotted from tlie book of liJe, 
 And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! 
 But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know; 
 And all too soon, I fear the king shall rue. — 
 Farewell, my liege: — Now no way can I stray; 
 Save back toEngland, all the world's my way. [Kxit. 
 
 K. Ri^h. l:ncle. even in the glasses of thine eyes 
 I see thy grieved heart; thy sad aspect 
 Hath from the number of iii.s banish'd years 
 Plucked fou- away: — Six frozen winters spent, 
 Return [Tj Boling.] with welcome home from 
 banishment. 
 
 Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! 
 Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, 
 End in a word; such is the breath of kings. 
 
 Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in rejxard of me, 
 He shortens four years ol iny son's exile: 
 But little vantage" shall I reap thereby; 
 For, ere the six years that he hath to spend. 
 Can change their moons, ;ind bring their tunes about, 
 My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted liglit. 
 Shall be extinct with age and endless night; 
 My inch of taper will be burnt and done, 
 And blindlbld death not let me see my sou. 
 
 A'. Rich. Why, uncle lliou hast many yearstolive. 
 
 Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst 
 give : 
 Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, 
 And pluck nights from me, biU not lend a morrow. 
 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, 
 But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; 
 Thy word is current with him lor my death; 
 But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 
 
 K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice; 
 Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave;"^ 
 Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower? 
 
 Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion 
 sour. 
 You urged me as a judge; but I had i-ather, 
 You would have bid me argue like a father: — 
 0, had it been a stranger, not my child. 
 To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: 
 A partial slander'' sought I to avoid, 
 And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. 
 Alas, 1 look'd, when some of you should say, 
 I was too strict to make mine own away; 
 But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue, 
 Against my will to do myself this wrong. 
 
 K. iJ/c//. Cousin, farewell: — and. uncle bid him so. 
 Six years, we i'anisb him, and he sliall go. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt K. Richakd «rt*^ Train. 
 
 Aum. Cousiu, farewell: what presence must not 
 kunw. 
 From where you do rem liu let paper show. 
 
 ^Hail a part or share. 
 
 ^Reproacli of ijartiality. 
 
304 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, 
 As far as land will let me, by your side. 
 
 Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy 
 words, 
 That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? 
 
 Baling. I have too tew to take my leave of you. 
 When the tongue's office should be prodigal 
 To breathe the abundant dolor of the heart. 
 
 Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. 
 
 Buliitfi. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. 
 
 Gaunt. VVhatissix winters'! theyarequicklygone. 
 
 Bating. To men in joy: hut grief mai;es one hour 
 ten. 
 
 Gaunt. Call ita travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. 
 
 Bnlins:. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, 
 Which hnds it an enforced pilgrimage. 
 
 dim III. The sullen passage of Ihy weary steps 
 Eslocm a foil, wherein thou art to set 
 The precious jewel of thy home-return. 
 
 Billing. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make 
 Will but remember me what a deal of world 
 I wander from ihe jewels that I love. 
 Must I not serve a long apprenticehood 
 To foreign passages, and in the end. 
 Having my freedom, boast of nothing else, 
 But that 1 was a journeyman to grief] 
 
 Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits, 
 Arc to a wise man ports and happy havens: 
 Teach thy necessity to reason thus; 
 There is no virtue like necessity. 
 Think not, the king did banish thee; 
 But thou, the king: Woe doth the heavier sit, 
 ■ Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 
 Go, say — I sent thee forth to purchase honor. 
 And not— the king exiled thee: or suppose, 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air. 
 And thoifart flying to a fresher clime, 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: 
 Suppose the singing birds, musicians; 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence' 
 
 strew'd; 
 The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps no more 
 Than a delightful measure or a dance: 
 For gnarlings sorrow hath less power to bite 
 The man tliat mocks at it, and sets it light. 
 
 Billing. O, who can hold a lire in his hand, 
 By thinking on the frosty Caucasus] 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite. 
 By bare imagination of a feast] 
 Or wallow naked in December snow. 
 By thinking on fantastic summer's heat] 
 0, no, the apprehension of the good, ' 
 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: 
 Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more. 
 Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 
 
 Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on 
 thy way : 
 Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. 
 
 Baling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet 
 soil, adieu! 
 My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! 
 
 Where'er 1 wander, boast of this I can, 
 
 Though banish'd, yet a true-born Knglishman. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.—Tfic same. A Room in the A'ing's 
 Castle. 
 
 Enter King Richakd. B.\r,oT, and Greek; Aumerle 
 foltoiving. 
 K. Rii-fi. We did observe.— Cousin Aumerle, 
 How liir brought you high Hereford on his way] 
 
 Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him 
 so. 
 But to the next high way, and there I left him. 
 
 K. Ricli. And, .say, what store of parting tears 
 were shed ] 
 
 Awn. 'Faith, none by me: except the north-east 
 wind. 
 Which then blew bitterly against our faces. 
 Awaked the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance, 
 Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. 
 
 K. Ricli. What said our cousin, when you parted 
 with him] 
 
 Aum. Farewell: 
 And, for my heart disdained that my tongue 
 Should so profane the word, that taught me cratt 
 To counterfeit oppression of sueh grief, 
 That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. 
 Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd 
 
 hours. 
 And added years to his short banishment, 
 He should have had a volume of farewells; 
 But since it would not, he had none of me. 
 
 K. Ricti. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'lis doubt, 
 When time shall call him home from banishment, 
 Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. 
 Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, 
 Observ'd his courtship to the common people: — ■ 
 How he did seem to dive into their hearts. 
 With humble and familiar courtesy; 
 What reverence he did throw away on slaves; 
 Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, 
 And patient underbearing of his fortune. 
 As 'twere to banish their affects with him. 
 Olf goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; 
 A brace of draymen bid — (iod speed him well. 
 And had the tribute of his supple knee. 
 With — Ttianks, mij cnu ntrt/men, mi/ lovingfriends; 
 As were our England in reversion his, 
 And he our subjects' next degree in hope. 
 
 Green. Well, he is gone; and with liiui go these 
 thoughts. 
 Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland,— 
 Expedient manage must be made, my liege; 
 Ere further leisure yield them further means, 
 For their advantage, and your highness' loss. 
 
 A'. Rick. We will ourself in person to this war. 
 And, for^ our coflers — with too great a court. 
 And liberal largess — are grown somewhat light, 
 We arc enforced to firm our royal realm; 
 The revenue whereof shall furnish us 
 For our alFairs in hand: If that come short. 
 Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; 
 Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich. 
 They shall subscribe them ibr large sums of gold, 
 And send them after to supply our wants; 
 For we will make for Ireland presently. 
 
 Enter BrsiiY. 
 
 Bushy, what news] 
 Buitiii. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my 
 lord; 
 Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste 
 To entreat your majesty to visit him. 
 K. Ricli. Where lies he ] 
 Buslii/. At Ely-house. 
 
 K. Rieti. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's 
 mind. 
 To help him to his grave immediately! 
 The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
 To deck olir soldiers Ibr these Irish wars.— 
 Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: 
 Pray lieaven, we may make haste, and come too 
 late! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Room in Elij-liouse. 
 
 Gaunt on a Couc/i ,• tlie Duke of York, and otliers, 
 standing by tiim. 
 
 Gaunt. Will the king come] that I may breathe 
 my last 
 In wholesome counsel to his unstay'd youth. 
 
 PreBcnce chamber at court. 
 
 'Growling. 
 
 York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your 
 breath ; 
 For all in vain comes counsel to. his ear. 
 Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying 
 men 
 Enforce attention, like deep harmony : 
 Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in 
 vain : 
 
 s Because. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING EICHARD II. 
 
 305 
 
 For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in 
 
 pain. 
 He. that no more must say, is listen'd more 
 
 Than they whom youth and ease have taught to 
 ^lose;* 
 More arc men's endsmark'd than their lives before: 
 
 The setting sun, and music at tiie close, 
 As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; 
 Writ in remembrance, more than things long past; 
 Thougli Richard my life's counsel would not hear, 
 My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. 
 
 York. No; it is stopp'd with otlier iJattcring 
 sounds. 
 As, praises of his state: then, there are found 
 Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound 
 The open air of youth doth always listen: 
 Report of fashions in proud Italy; 
 Whose mamiers still our tardy apish nation 
 Limps after, in base imitation. 
 Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, 
 (So it be new, there's no respect how vile,) 
 That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears] 
 Then all too late comes counsel to be heard 
 Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. 
 Direct not him, whose way himself will choose; 
 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou 
 lose. 
 
 Gaunt. Blothinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; 
 And thus, expiring, do foretell of him : 
 His rash lierce blaze of riot cannot last: 
 For violent tires soon burn out themselves: 
 Small showers last long, but sudden storms are 
 
 short; 
 He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; 
 With eager feeding, fiiod doth choke the feeder: 
 Light vanity, insatiate cormorant. 
 Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. 
 This royal throne of kings, this seeiitred isle, 
 This earth of majesty, this seat of Ma^, 
 This other Eden, demi-paradise; 
 This fortress, built by nature for herself, 
 Against infection, and the hand of war; 
 This happy breed of men, this little world; 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
 Wliicn serves it in the othce of a wall, 
 Or, as a moat defensive to a house. 
 Against the envy of less happier lands: 
 Tliisblcssed plot, thisearth, this realm, this England, 
 This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, 
 Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth. 
 Renowned (iir their deeds as far from home, 
 (For Christian service, and true chivalry,) 
 As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, 
 Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son : 
 This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land. 
 Dear for her reputation through the world, 
 Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it) 
 Like to a tenement or pelting' farm : 
 England, bound in with the triumphant sea. 
 Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
 •Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with sha'me. 
 With iid;y blots, and rotten parchment bonds; 
 That England, that was wont to coiiquer others, 
 Hath made a shameful conquest of itself: 
 O, would the scandal vanish with my life. 
 How happy then were my ensuing death! 
 
 Eriter Kinx, Richard, and QrEEX ; Aimerle, BrsnY, 
 Grec.n-, Bagot, Ross, and WiLLOcciUBY. 
 
 York. The king is come: deal mildly with his 
 youth ; 
 For young hot colts, being raged, do rage the more. 
 
 Queen. How lares our noble uncle. Lancaster? 
 
 K. Rich. What comfort, mani How is't with 
 aged Gaunt 1 
 
 Gaunt. 0, how that name befits my composition! 
 Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt" in being old: 
 Within me grief hath kept a tedious liist; 
 And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt'! 
 For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; 
 Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: 
 The pleasure that some fathers feed upon. 
 Is my strict fast. I mean— my children's looks; 
 And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: 
 Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave. 
 Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. 
 
 K. Rkti. Can sick men play so nicely with their 
 names ? 
 
 •Flatter. 
 
 'Paltry. 
 20 
 
 ' Lean, thin. 
 
 Gaunt. No. misery makes sport to mock itself: 
 Since thou dost seek to kill ray name in me, 
 I mock my name, great king, to Hatter thee. 
 
 K. Ricli. Should dying mcJi flatter with those 
 that live'! 
 
 Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that die. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou, now a dymg, say'st— thou flat- 
 ter'st me. 
 
 Gaunt. Oh ! no ; thou diest. though I the sicker be. 
 
 K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee 
 ill. 
 
 Gaunt. Now. He that made me, knows I see 
 thee ill; 
 Til in myself to see, and in the seeing ill. 
 Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land, 
 Wlierein thou licst in reputation sick: 
 And thou, too careless patient as thou art, 
 Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure 
 Of thy physicians that first wounded thee: 
 A thousand flatterers sit, within thy crown. 
 Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; 
 And yet, incaged in so small a verge, 
 The waste is iio whit lesser than thy land. 
 O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye. 
 Seen how IDs son's son should destroy liis sons. 
 From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame; 
 Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd. 
 Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. 
 Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world. 
 It were a shame to let this land by lease: 
 But, for the world, enjoying liut this land. 
 Is it not more than sbaine, to shame it so? 
 Landlord of England art thou now, not king: 
 Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; 
 And thou 
 
 K. Rich. a lunatic lean-witted fool. 
 
 Presuming on an ague's jtrivilege, 
 
 Dar'st with thy frozen admonition 
 
 Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood, 
 
 With fury, from his native residence. 
 
 Now by my seat's right royal majesty, 
 
 Wert tliou not brother to great Edward's son. 
 
 This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head. 
 
 Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders. 
 
 Gaunt. 0, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, 
 For that I was his father Edward's son; 
 That blood already, like the pelican. 
 Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd: 
 My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul, 
 (Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!) 
 May be precedent and witness good. 
 That thou respecfsl not sjiilliug Edward's blood: 
 Join with the present sickness that I have; 
 And thy unkinduess be like crooked age. 
 To crop at once a too-long wither'd Ilovver. 
 Live in thy shame, but die not shame with tlice!— 
 These words hereafter thy tormentors be, — 
 Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: 
 Love they to live, that love and honor have. 
 
 [Exit, borne out by his Attendants. 
 
 K. Rich. And let them die that age and suUena 
 have ; 
 For both hast thou, and both become the grave. 
 
 Yirrk. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words 
 To wayward sickbness and age in him : 
 He loves you. on my lift.', and holds jou dear 
 As Harry duke of Hereford, were he here. 
 
 K. Rich. Right; you say true: as Hereford's love, 
 so his: 
 As theirs, so mine ; and all be as it is. 
 
 Enter Nobtekmberland. 
 
 North. My licgc, old Gaunt commends him to 
 your majesty. 
 
 K. Rich. What says lie now? 
 
 North. Nay, nothing; all is said: 
 His tongue is now- a stringless instrument ; 
 Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. 
 
 York. Be York tlie next that must be bankruptso! 
 Thougli death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. 
 
 K. Rich. Theri])estfruil hrstfaUs.andsodothhej 
 His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be: 
 
 So much lor that. Now for our Irish wars: 
 
 We must supplant those rough rug-headed kernes; ' 
 Which live like venom, where no venom else. 
 But only they, hath privilege to live. 
 And for these great atlairs do ask some charge. 
 Towards our assistance, we do seize to us 
 
 ^ Irish aoldicrs. 
 
306 
 
 KING EICHARD II. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, 
 Whereof our iincic Oaunt did stand possessM. 
 
 YfU'h, How lon;^ shall I be patient ! Ah, how long 
 Shall tender duty make me suiter wrong! 
 Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment, 
 Not Gaunt's rehulccs, nor Em;land's private wrongs. 
 Nor the prevention of poor liolingbroke 
 About his marriap:e, nor my own disgrace. 
 Have ever made me sour my patient check. 
 Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. — 
 I am the last of noble Edward's sons. 
 Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first: 
 In war, w-as never lion raged more fierce. 
 In peace was never gei)tie lamb more mild. 
 Than was that young and princely gentleman: 
 His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, 
 Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; 
 But, when he frown'd, it was against the French, 
 And not against his friends: his noble hand 
 Did win what he did spend, and spent not that 
 Which his triumphant father's hand had won: 
 His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood, 
 But bloody with the enemies of liis kin. 
 O, Richard! York is too far gone with grief. 
 Or else he never would compare Ijetween. 
 
 K. Rick. Why, uncle, what's the matter? 
 
 York. 0, my liege, 
 
 Pardon mo if you please; if not, I, pleas'd 
 Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. 
 Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands. 
 The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ? 
 Is not Gaunt dead] and doth not Hereford live? 
 W.as not Gaunt just ! and is not Harry true? 
 Did not the one deserve to have an heir? 
 Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? 
 Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time 
 His charters and his customary rights; 
 Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; 
 Be not thyself for how art thou a king. 
 But by lair sequence and succession? 
 Now, afore God {God forbid. I say true!) 
 If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights. 
 Call in the letters patent that he hath 
 By hisattoriiies-L;eneral to sue 
 His livery,- and deny his otTer'd homage. 
 You pluck a thousand dangers on your head. 
 You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, 
 And prick my tender patience to those thoughts 
 Which honor and allegiance cannot think. 
 
 K. Rirfi. Think what you will; we seize into our 
 hands 
 His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. 
 
 York. I'll not be by the while: My liege, fare 
 wcU : 
 What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; 
 But by bad courses may be understood. 
 That their events can never fall out good. [Exit. 
 
 K. Bic/i. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wilt-shire 
 straight; 
 Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, 
 To see tins business: To-morrow next 
 We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow; 
 And we create, in absence of ourself. 
 Our uncle York lord governor of England, 
 For lie is just and always lov'd us well. — 
 Come on.'our queen: to-morrow must we part; 
 Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Flourish. 
 [Exeunt KiNO, Qceen, Bushy, Aumeble, 
 Green, and Bagot. 
 
 Norffi. Well, lords, thedukeofLancasteris dead. 
 
 Jifnif. And living too; for now his son is duke. 
 
 IVUlo. Barely in title, not in revenue. 
 
 Aorl/i.. Richly in both, if justice had her right. 
 
 liiiss. My iieart is great; but it must break with 
 silence, 
 Ere't be disburden'd, with a liberal tongue. 
 
 North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er 
 speak more, 
 That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm ! 
 
 Willi). Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of 
 Herelbrd? 
 If it be so, out with it boldly, man; 
 Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. 
 
 Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him ; 
 Unless you call it good to pity him, 
 Berell and gelded" of his patrimony. 
 
 A'ori/i. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such 
 wrongs are borne. 
 
 8 Cl&im possession ; a law term. 
 
 8 Deprived. 
 
 In him a royal prince, and many more 
 
 Of noble blood in this declining land. 
 
 The king is not himself, but basely led 
 
 By llatterers; and what they will inform, 
 
 Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all, 
 
 That will the king severely prosecute 
 
 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our neirs. 
 
 Ross. The commons hath he pill'd' with grievoua 
 taxes. 
 And lost their hearts; the nobles hath he fined 
 For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. 
 
 Willn. And daily new exactions are de^is'tl; 
 As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: 
 But what, o'God's name, doth become of this? 
 
 North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he 
 hath not. 
 But basely yielded upon compromise 
 That which his ancestors achiev'd with blows: 
 More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. 
 
 Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in 
 farm. 
 
 Willv. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken 
 man. 
 
 North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over 
 him. 
 
 Ro.9s. He hath not money for these Irish wars, 
 His burdenous taxations notwithstanding. 
 But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. 
 
 North. His nolile Kinsman; most degenerate king! 
 But, lords, we hear this l.arful tempest sing. 
 Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm: 
 We see the wind sit sore upon our sails. 
 And yet we strike not, but securely perish.^ 
 
 Ross. We see the very \vreck that we must sulTer; 
 And unavoided is the danger now. 
 For sulfering so the causes of our wreck. 
 
 North. Not so ; even through the hollow eyes ot 
 death, 
 I spy life peering ; but I dare not say 
 How near the tidings of our comfort is. 
 
 IVUto. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou 
 dost ours. 
 
 Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumberland: 
 We three are but thyself; and, speaking so. 
 Thy words are but as thouglUs; therefore be bold. 
 
 North. Then thus : — I have from Port le Blanc, a 
 bay 
 In Brittany*, recciv'd intelligence, 
 Tliat Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, 
 [The son of Riciiard earl of Arundel,] 
 That late broke from the duke of Exeter, 
 His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, 
 Sir Thomas Erj^inghani, sir John Ramston, 
 Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis 
 
 Quoint, 
 
 All these well furnish'd by the duke of Brctajne, 
 With eight talP ships, three thousand men of war, 
 Are mailing hither with all due expedience,* 
 And shortly mean to touch our northern shore: 
 Perhaps, they had ere this; but that they stay 
 The first departing of the king for Ireland. • 
 
 If then, we shall shake oti'our slavish yoke. 
 Imps out our drooiiini; country's broken wing. 
 Redeem from broKiiii,' pawn tlie blemish'd crown, 
 Wipe oil the dust that ludes our sceptre's gUt,° 
 And make high majesty look like itself. 
 Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg: 
 But if you faint, as fearing to do so. 
 Stay, and be secret, .and myself will go. 
 
 Russ. To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them 
 that fear. 
 
 WUlo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE II.— 7"/iC same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Qceen, Bushy, and Bagot. 
 
 Bushi/. Madam, your majesty is too much sad: 
 You promis'd when you parted with the king. 
 To lay aside lill-lianniiig heaviness. 
 And entertain a clieerliil disposition. 
 
 Queen. To please the king, I did; to please my- 
 self, 
 I cannot do it; vet I know no cause 
 Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, 
 Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
 
 1 Pillaged. ^perish by confidence in our security, 
 3 Stout. * Expedition 
 
 ' Supply with new feathers. "Gilding. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 307 
 
 As my sweet Richard: Yet. asain, methinks, 
 Some unborn sorrow, ripe in lortunc's womb, 
 Is coming towards me; and my I'nward soul 
 VVitli notliins tremliics: at .soiiielliiiiij it grieves, 
 More than witli partius Irnm my lord the king. 
 
 Bushy. Each substance of a grief liath twenty 
 shadows, 
 Which show like grief itself, but arc not so: 
 For sorrow's eye, glazed witli blinding tears, 
 Divides one thing entire to many objects; 
 Like perspectives,' whicl), riglitly giiz'd upon, 
 Show nothing but confusion; eyM awry. 
 Distinguish tbrm: so your sweet majesty, 
 Looking awry upon your lord's departure, 
 Finds shapes of griet; more than himself to wail; 
 Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows 
 Of what it is not. Then, tlirice-gracious queen, 
 More than your lord's departure weep not ; more's 
 
 not seen : 
 Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye. 
 Which, for things true, weeps things imaginary. 
 • Queen. It may be so; but yet my inward soul 
 Persuades me, it is otherwise; Howe'er it be, 
 I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad. 
 As,— though, in thniking, on no thought I think,— 
 Makes me witli heavy nothing faint and shrink. 
 
 Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit,' my gracious 
 lady. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived 
 From some fore-lather grief; mine is not so; 
 For nothing lialh begot mv something grief; 
 Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: 
 'Tis in reversion that I do possess ; 
 But what it is, that is not yet laiown; what 
 I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.** 
 
 Enter Greek. 
 
 Green. Heaven save your majesty!- and well 
 met, gentlemen: — 
 I hope, the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. 
 
 Queen. Why liop'st "thou so ! 'tis better hope, 
 iie is. 
 For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope; 
 Then vvheretbre dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd? 
 
 Green. That he, our 'hope, might have retired 
 his power. 
 And driven into despair an enemy's hope. 
 Who strongly hath set footing in this land: 
 The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself. 
 And witli uplifted arms is safe arriv'd 
 At Ravcnspurg. 
 
 Queen. Now God in heaven forbid ! 
 
 Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is 
 worse, — 
 The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry 
 
 Percy, 
 The lords of'Uoss, Beaumont, and Willoughby, 
 With all their powerful friends, arc lied to hiui. 
 
 Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd North- 
 umberland, 
 And all the rest of the revolting faction 
 Traitors! 
 
 Green. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester 
 Hath broke his statf, resign'd his stewardsliip. 
 And all the household servants tied with him 
 To Bolingbroke. 
 
 Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe. 
 And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: 
 Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy; 
 And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother. 
 Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. 
 
 Bushy. Despair not, madam. 
 
 Queen. Who shall hinder me? 
 
 I will despair, and be at enmity 
 With cozening hope; he is a flatterer, 
 A parasite, a keeper-back of death. 
 Who gently would dissolve the bands of life. 
 Which false hope lingers in extremity. 
 Enter York. 
 
 Green. Here comes the duke of York. 
 
 Queen. Wilh signs of war about his aged neck; 
 0, full of careful business are his looks! — 
 Uncle, 
 For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words. 
 
 York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: 
 Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth. 
 Where nothing lives but crosses, care and grief. 
 Your husband he is gone to save farott', 
 
 'Pictures. « Fanciful conception. 'Know. 
 
 Whilst others come to make him lose at home: 
 Here am I lelt to underprop his land, 
 Who, weak with age. cannot support myself; 
 Now comes the sick hour that his surl'eit made; 
 Now shall he try his friends that flatter"d him. 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came, 
 York. He was?— Why, so I— go all which way it 
 will! — 
 The nobles they are fled, the commons cold. 
 And will, I It'ar, revolt on Hereford's side. — 
 Sirrah, 
 
 Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster; 
 Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: — 
 Hold, take my ring. 
 
 Sen: My lord, I' had forgot to tell your lordsliip: 
 To-day, as I came by, I called there; 
 But I shall grieve you to report the rest. 
 York. What is it, knave ? 
 
 Se>-v. An hour before I came, the duchess died. 
 York. God for his mercy! wnat a tide of woes 
 Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! 
 I know not wliat to do; — I would to God, 
 (So my untruth' had not provoked him to it,) 
 The king hath cut otfmy head with my brother's. 
 Wliat, are there posts despatch'd lor Ireland! — 
 How shall we do lor money for these wars? 
 Come, sister, — cousin, I would say, pray, pardon 
 
 me. — 
 Go, fellow, [To the Servant.] get thee home, pro- 
 vide some carts. 
 And bring away the armor that is tliere. 
 
 [E.vH Servant. 
 Gentleman, will you go muster men? if I know 
 How, or which way. to order these atlairs. 
 Thus thrust disorderly into my hands. 
 Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen; 
 The one's my sovereign, whom' both my oath 
 And duty bids defend; the other again. 
 Is my kiiisnian, whom the king hath wrong'd; 
 Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. 
 Well, somewhat we must" do. Come, cousin, I'll 
 Dispose of you: — Go, muster up your men. 
 And meet nie ]iresenlly at iierkley-castle. 
 I should to Plashy too,— 
 But time will not permit : — All is uneven. 
 And every thing is left at six and seven. 
 
 [Exeunt York and Qrr.F.x. 
 Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ire- 
 land, 
 But none returns. For ns to levy power, 
 Proportionable to the enemy. 
 Is all impossible. 
 
 Gi-een. Besides, our nearness to the king in love. 
 Is near the hate of those love not the king. 
 Bagot. And that's the wavering commons: for 
 their love 
 Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them. 
 By so much (ills their heart with deadly hate. 
 Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con- 
 
 "dcmn'd. 
 Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, 
 Because we ever have been near the king. 
 Green. Well, I'll liir refuge straight to Bristol 
 castle; 
 The earl of Wiltshire is already there. 
 
 Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office 
 The hateful commons will perform for us; 
 Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. — 
 Will you go along with us! 
 
 Bagot. No: I'll to Ireland to his majesty. 
 Farewell;: if heart's presages be not vain. 
 We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. 
 Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bo- 
 
 "lingbroke. 
 Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes 
 Is — numbering sands, and drinking oceans dry; 
 Where one on his side lights, thousands will tly. 
 Bushy. Farewell at once; foronee.forall, and ever. 
 Great. Well, we may meet again. 
 Bagot. I fear me, never 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— The Wilds in Gloucestersliire. 
 
 Enter Bolingbroke and NoRTHtWEERLASii icit/i 
 
 Forces. 
 Bating. How far is it. my lord, to Berkley now' 
 ^'orth. Believe me, noble lord. 
 
 ' Disloyalty. 
 
308 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act n. 
 
 I am a stranger here in Glostcrshire. 
 
 These high wild hiUs, and rough uneven ways, 
 
 Draw out our miles and make tliera wearisome: 
 
 And j'et your fair discourse liath been as sugar, 
 
 Maliing the hard way sweet and delectable. 
 
 But, 1 bethink me, what a weary way 
 
 From Ravenspurg to Cotswold will be found 
 
 In Ross and Willuugh by, wanting your company; 
 
 Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd 
 
 The tediousness and process of my travel: 
 
 But theirs is sweeten'd with the hope to have 
 
 The present benefit which I possess: 
 
 And hope to joy, is little less in joy. 
 
 Than hope enjoy 'd: by this the weary lords 
 
 Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath 
 
 done 
 By sight of what I have, your noble company. 
 BuUng. Of mueli less value is my company, 
 Tlian your good words. But who comes here? 
 Enter Hakry Percv. 
 North. It is my son, 5'oung Harry Percy, 
 Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. 
 Harry, how tares your uncle? 
 Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd 
 
 his health of you. 
 Nortfi.. Why, is he not with the queen? 
 Percy. No, my good lord; he hatli forsook the 
 court. 
 Broken his stafTof office, and dispers'd 
 The household of the king. 
 
 Nurt/i. What was his reason ? 
 
 He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together. 
 Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed 
 traitor. 
 But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, 
 To olfer service to the duke of Hereford; 
 And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover 
 What power the duke of York had levied there; 
 Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg. 
 Nurt/i. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, 
 
 boy? 
 Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot, 
 ■ Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge, 
 I never in my life did look on him. 
 Nurtfi. Tlien learn to know him now; this is the 
 
 duke. 
 Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, 
 Such as it is, being tender, raw, and j'oung; 
 Which elder days shall ripen and confirm 
 To more approved service and desert. 
 
 Baling. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure, 
 I count myself in nothing else so happy. 
 As in a soiil remcmb'ring my good frieiids; 
 And, as my fortune ripens with thy love. 
 It sliall be still thy true love's recompense: 
 My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals 
 it. 
 Nortru How far is it to Berkley? And what stir 
 Keeps good old York there, with his men of war? 
 Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of 
 trees, 
 Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard: 
 And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Sey- 
 mour: 
 None else of name, and noble estimate. 
 Enter Ross and Willougiiby. 
 Nort/i. Here comes the lords of Ross and Wil- 
 loughby. 
 Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. 
 Buhng. Welcome, my lords: I wot,^ your love 
 pursues 
 A b.inish'd traitor; all my treasury 
 Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, 
 Shall be your love and labor's recompense. 
 Muss. Y'our presence makes us rich, most noble 
 
 . lord. 
 IVil.to. And far surmounts our labor to attain it. 
 Bvling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the 
 poor; 
 Which till my infant fortune comes to years. 
 Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? 
 Enter Bericley. 
 Nurt/i. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. 
 Bi rl;. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you. 
 U'j/ing. My lord, my answer is— to Lancaster; 
 And I am come to seek that name in England: 
 
 'Know. 
 
 And I must find that title in your tongue. 
 Before I make reply to aught you say. 
 Berli. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my 
 meaning. 
 To raze one title of your honor out: 
 To you, my lord, I come (what lord you wUl) 
 From the most glorious regent of this land. 
 The duke of York; to know, what pricks you on 
 To take advantage of the absent tiine,^ 
 And fright our native peace with seLf-born arms. 
 
 Enter Y'ork, attended. 
 
 Baling. I shall not needs transport my words by 
 you. 
 
 Here comes his grace in person.— My noble uncle! 
 
 'Kneels, 
 iork. Show me thy humble heart and not thy 
 knee. 
 
 Whose duty is deccivable and false. 
 Baling. Sly gracious uncle! 
 York. Tut, tut! 
 Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: * 
 
 I am no traitor's uncle; and the word— grace, 
 In an ungracious moutii, is but profane. 
 
 Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs 
 
 Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground? 
 But then more why;— Why have they dared to 
 
 march 
 So many miles upon her peaceful bosom; 
 Frighting her pale-faced villages with war, 
 And ostentation of despised arms? 
 Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence? 
 Why, foolish boy, the king is letl behind, 
 And in my loyal bosom lies his power. 
 Were I but now the lord of such hot youth. 
 As when brave Gaunt, thy father, andf myself. 
 Rescued the black prince, that young Mars of men, 
 From forth the ranks of many thousand French; 
 0, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, 
 Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee. 
 And minister correction to thy fault ! 
 
 Baling. My gracious uncle, let me know *y fault; 
 On what condition stands it, and wherein? 
 
 York. Even in condition, of the worst degree, — 
 In gross rebellion, and detested treason: 
 Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come, 
 Before the expiration of thy time. 
 In braving arms against thy sovereign. 
 
 Bating. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Here 
 ford; 
 But as I come, I come for Lancaster. 
 And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace, 
 Look on my wrongs with an indifferent' eye: 
 You are my father, for, methinks, in you 
 I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father! 
 Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd 
 A wandering vagabond; my rights and royaltiea 
 Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away 
 To upstart unthritls ! Wherefore was I bom? 
 If that my cousin king be king of England, 
 It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster. 
 You have a son^ Aumeric, my noble kinsman; 
 Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, 
 He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father. 
 To rouse his wrongs,saiid chase them to the bay. 
 I am denied to sue my livery^ here. 
 And yet my letters-patent give me leave: 
 My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold; 
 And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd. 
 What would you have me do? I am a subject, 
 And challenge law: Attornies are denied me; 
 And therefore pcrsonallv I lay my claim 
 To my inheritance of free descent. 
 
 Nur't/i. The noble duke hath been too much 
 abused. 
 
 Ross. It stands your grace upon,' to do him right. 
 
 Willo. Base men by his endowments are made 
 great. 
 
 York. My lords of England, let me tell you this,— 
 I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs. 
 And labor'd all I could to do him right: 
 But in this kind to come, in braving arms, 
 Be his own carver, and cut out his way. 
 To find out right with wrong, — it may not be; 
 And you, that do abet him in this kind, 
 Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. 
 
 ^ Time of the king's al>sence. * Impartial. 
 
 ^Tfie persons i>-ho wronj; liim. 
 I * Possession of my land, &c. ' It is your interest. 
 
Act III. ScEXE II. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 309 
 
 North. The noble duke hath sworn, his com- 
 ing is 
 But for liis own : and, for the right of that, 
 We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ; 
 And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath. 
 Yvrk. Well, well, I see the issue of these 
 arras; 
 I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, 
 Because my power is weak, and all ill left; 
 But, if I coiild, by him that gave me life, 
 I would attach you all, and make you stoop 
 Unto the sovereign mercy of the King; 
 But, since I cannot, be it knowni to you, 
 I do remain as neuter. So fare you well; — 
 Urdess you please to enter in the castle. 
 And there repose you for this night. 
 
 Baling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. 
 But we must win your grace, to go with us 
 To Bristol castle; which, they say, is held 
 By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices. 
 The caterpillars of the commonwealth. 
 Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away. 
 York. It may be, I will go with you :— but yet I'll 
 pause; 
 For I am loth to break our country's laws. 
 Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are: 
 Things past redress, are now with me' past care. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— .1 Camp in Wales. 
 Enter Salisbury, and a Captain. 
 
 Capt. My lord of Salisbury , we have staid ten days, 
 And liardly kept our countrymen together. 
 And yet we hear no tidings from the king: 
 Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell. 
 
 Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; 
 The liing reposeth all his confidence 
 In thee. 
 
 Capt. 'Tis thought the king is dead: we will not stay. 
 The bay-trees in'our country arc all wither'd. 
 And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; 
 The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth, 
 And leau-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; 
 Rich men look sad, and rullians dance and leap, — 
 The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
 The other, to enjoy by rage and war: 
 These signs forerun the death or fall of kings,— 
 Farewelf: our countrymen are gone and fled, 
 As well assured, Richard their king is dead. [Exit. 
 
 Sal. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind, 
 I see thy glory, like a shooting star. 
 Fall to the base earth from the firmament! 
 Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west. 
 Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest: 
 Thy Iricnds are fled, to wait upon thy foes; 
 And crossly to thy good all fortime goes. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol. 
 
 Enter Boi>isgbroke, York, Nortiu'mberlasd, Per- 
 cy, WiLLOfGHBY, Ross: Ofliccrs beliind Willi 
 BtsHY anil Grf-es, prisoners. 
 
 Billing. Bring forth these men. — 
 Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls 
 (Since presently your souls must part your bodies) 
 With too much urging your pernicious lives. 
 For 'twere no charity: yet, to wash your blood 
 I^om off my hands, here in the view of men, 
 I will unfold some causes of your death. 
 You have misled a iirincc, a royal king, 
 A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, 
 By you unhappiod and disfigur'd clean.' 
 You have, in manner, with your sinful hours, 
 Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; 
 Broke the possession of a royal bed. 
 And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
 With tears drawn Irom her eyes by yourtbul wrongs. 
 IMysclf^a prince, bj' fortune of my birth; 
 Near to the king in blood; and near in love. 
 Till you did make him misinterpret me,^ 
 Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries. 
 And sigh'd my English breath iji foreign clouds, 
 Eating tlie bitter bread of banishment; 
 Whilst you have fed upon my seignories, 
 Dispark'd my parks, and leli'd my forest woods; 
 From my own windows torn my household coat, 
 Raz'd out my impress, leaving nie no sign,^ 
 Save men's opinions, and my living blood,^ 
 To ahow the world I am a gentleman. 
 This, and much more, much more than twice all 
 
 this. 
 Condemns you to the death: — see them deliver'd 
 
 over 
 To execution and the hand of death. 
 Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to 
 me. 
 Than Bolingbroke to England, — Lords, farewell. 
 Green. My comfort is,— that heaven will take our 
 souls, 
 And plague injustice with the pains of hell. 
 Bating. My lord Northumberland, see them de- 
 spa tch'd, 
 
 [Exeunt NoRTnpMBERLASD and others 
 wilk Pri.'iiiners. 
 Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house; 
 For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated: 
 Tell her, I send to her my kind commends; 
 Take special care my greetings be deliver'd, 
 
 York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd 
 With letters of your love to her at large, 
 
 8 Completely, 
 
 Boling. Thanks,"entle uncle,— Come,lords away; 
 To fight with Glendower and his complices; 
 Awhile to work, and, after, hoUday. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— TAc Coa.^t of Wales, A Castle in view. 
 Flouruth: Drums and Trumpets. Enter Kixs 
 
 RifHARD, Bisnop OF Carlisle, Acmerle, and 
 
 Soldiers, 
 
 K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand ■? 
 
 Aum. Yea, my lord: how brooks your grace the 
 
 air. 
 After late tossing on the breaking seast 
 
 K.Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for joy. 
 
 To stand upon my kingdom once again, 
 
 Dear earth, 1 do salute thee with my hand, 
 Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs. 
 As a long parted mother with her child 
 Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting, 
 So,'weci)ing, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, 
 And do thee lavor with my royal hands. 
 Feed not thy sovereign's Ibe, my gentle earth. 
 Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense. 
 But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, 
 And heavy gaited toads, lie in tlieir way; 
 Doing annoyance to their treacherous feet, 
 Which with usurping steps do trample thee. 
 Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies: 
 And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower. 
 Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder; 
 Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch 
 
 Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. 
 
 Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords; 
 This earth shall have a feeUng, and these stones 
 Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king, 
 Shall ftilter under foul rebellious arms. 
 
 Car. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that made 
 you king. 
 Hath power to keep you Idng, in spite of all. 
 The means that heaven yields must be embraced. 
 And not neglected; else, if heaven would. 
 And we will not, heaven's oiler we refuse; 
 The profter'd means of succor and redress, 
 
 Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss. 
 Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, 
 Grows strong and great, in substance, and m friends. 
 
 K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou 
 not, 
 That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
 Behind the globe, and lights the lower world. 
 Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, 
 111 murders, and in outrage, bloody here; 
 But when, from under this terrestrial ball. 
 He fires the proud tops of tlie eastern pines. 
 And darts his light through every guilty hole, 
 
310 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act IIL 
 
 Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, 
 
 The clouk of night being pluck'd from off their 
 
 backs. 
 Stand bare and naked, trembling at themsclvesi 
 So when this thief, this traitor, lioiingbroke, — 
 Who all this while luilh revclitl in the night, 
 Wliilst we were wandering with the antipodes, — 
 Shall see us rising in our tln"one the east, 
 His treasons will sit blushing in his face, , 
 Not able to ejidure the sight of day. 
 But, sell-aflfrighted, tremble at his sin. 
 Not all the water in. the rough rude sea 
 Can wash the balm from an anointed Idng: 
 The breath of wordly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected Ijy the Lord: 
 For every man that Bolnigbroke hath press'd, 
 To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, 
 God for his Richard hath in lieavenly pay 
 A glorious angel: then, if angels fight. 
 Weak men must fall; (or heaven still guards the 
 right. 
 
 Enter Salisbury. 
 
 Welcome, my lord; How (iir off lies jour power? 
 
 SiiL Nor near, nor furlher off, my gracious lord. 
 Than this weak arm : Discomfort guides my tongue, 
 And bids me speak of notliing but despair. 
 One day too late, I li^ar, my noble lord. 
 Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: 
 O, call back yesteday, bid time return. 
 And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! 
 To-day, to-day, unhappy dajvloo late, 
 O'erthrows thy joys, friends, lortune,and thy state; 
 For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, 
 Arc gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and Hed. 
 
 Aum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace 
 so pale? 
 
 A'. Rich. But now the blood of twenty thousand 
 men 
 
 Did triumph in my face, and they arc fled; 
 And till so much blood thither come again. 
 
 Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? 
 All souls that will be sale lly from my side; 
 For time hath set a blot upon my pride. 
 
 Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you 
 are. 
 
 K. Rich. I had forgot myself: am I not king? 
 Awake, thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleep'st. 
 Is not the king^s name forty tiiousand names? 
 Arm, arm, my name, a puny subject strikes 
 At thy great glory.— Look not to the ground, 
 Ye favorites of a king; Are we not high? 
 High be our thoughts; I know my uiicle York 
 Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who 
 Comes here ? 
 
 Enter Scroop. 
 
 Scroop. IMore liealth and liappiness betide my 
 liege. 
 Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him. 
 
 A'. Ricfi. Mine ear is open and my heart pre- 
 pa red ; 
 The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. 
 Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care; 
 And what loss is it, to be rid of care? 
 Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? 
 Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, 
 We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so : 
 Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; 
 They break their faith to God, as well as us: 
 Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay; 
 The worst is— death, and death will have his day. 
 
 Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so ann'd 
 To bear the tidings of calamity. 
 Like an unseasonable stormy day, 
 W^hich makes the silver rivers drown their shores, 
 As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears; 
 So high above his limits swells the rage 
 Of liolingbroke, covering your fearful land 
 With hard briglit steel, and hearts harder than steel. 
 White beards have anu'd their thin and hairless 
 
 scalps 
 Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, 
 Strive to speak big, and clap their fi^male joints 
 in stiir unwieldy arms against thy crown: 
 Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows 
 Of double-fatal yew against thy state; 
 Yea, distall-women manage rusty bills 
 Against thy seat; both young and old rebel, 
 And all goes worse tliaii 1 Inve p wer to tell. 
 
 A". Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale 
 so ill. 
 Where is the earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot? 
 What is become of Bushy ? where is Green ? 
 That they liave let tlie dauKerous enemy 
 Pleasure our contines w ith such peaceful steps? 
 If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it. 
 I w^arrant,they have made peace with Bolingbroke 
 Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, 
 
 my lord. 
 A'. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without re- 
 demption! 
 Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man ! 
 Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my 
 
 heart! 
 Three Judascs, each one thrice worse than Judas ! 
 Would they make peace? terrible hell make war 
 Upon their spotted souls for this otlence! 
 
 ficroop. Sweet love.T see, changing his property, 
 Turns to the .sourest and most deadly hate: — 
 Again uncurse their souls; their pe.ace is made 
 With heads, and not with hands: those whom you 
 
 curse 
 Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound, 
 And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. 
 Aum. Is Bushy. Green, and the earl of Wiltshire 
 
 dead ! 
 Sa-oop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their 
 
 heads. 
 Aum. Where is the duke my father with hi9 
 
 power? 
 K.Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man 
 speak : 
 Let's talk of graves, of wonns, and epitaphs; 
 I\Iake dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
 Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: 
 And yet not so, for w^hat can we bequeath, 
 Save our deposed bodies to the ground? 
 Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbrokc's, 
 And nothing can we call our own, but death; 
 And that small model of the barren earth, 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings: — 
 How some have been depos'd. some slain in war; 
 Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd; 
 Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; 
 All murder'd: — For within the hollow crown, 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
 Keeps death his court; and there the antic sits, 
 Scotiing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; 
 Allowing him a breath, a little scene 
 To monarchize, be fear'd. and kill with looks; 
 Infusing hint with self and vain conceit, — 
 As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
 Were brass impregnable; and humor'd thus, 
 Comes at the last, and with a little pin 
 Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king! 
 Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
 With solemn reverence; throw away respect, 
 Tradition, tbrm, and ceremonious duty. 
 For you have but mistook me all this while: 
 I live with bread like you, lecl want, taste grief, 
 Need friends: — Subjected thus. 
 How can you say to me — I am a Idng? 
 Cur. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their presen' 
 woes, 
 But presently prevent the ways to wail. 
 To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength. 
 Gives, in your weakness, stient'lh unto your Ibe, 
 And so your lollies li;;|jt aijainst yourself. 
 Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: 
 And tight and die, is death destroying deatfi; 
 Where hearing d\inu% pa\s death "servile breath. 
 Aum. Mj* lather had a power, enquire of liim; 
 And learn to make a body of a limb. 
 A'. Rich. Thou eliid'st mc well: — Proud Boling- 
 broke, I come 
 To cJiangc blows with thee for our day of doom. 
 This ague-tit of fear is overblown ; 
 
 An easy task it is to win our own. 
 
 Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? 
 Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. 
 Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky 
 The state and inclination of the-day: 
 So may you by my dull and heavy eye, 
 
 My tongue hath but a heavier taleto saj'. 
 I play the torture, by small and small, 
 
SCBKK III. 
 
 KING RICHARD II- 
 
 3U 
 
 To lengthen out the worst tliat must he spoken: — 
 Your uncle York hath join'd with lioliiighroke; 
 And all your northern castles yielded up, 
 And all your southern gentlemen in arras 
 Upon his party. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou hast said enough. 
 
 Beshrew thee, cousin, which did lead me forth 
 
 [To AUMERLE. 
 
 Of that sweet way 1 was in to despair ! 
 
 VVhat say j'ou now ! wliat comlort have we now ! 
 
 By heaven". I'll hate him everlastingly, 
 
 That bids me be of comfort any more. 
 
 Go, to P'lint castle; there I'll pnie away; 
 
 A king, woe's slave, sliall kingly woe obey. 
 
 That power I have, di-scharge; and let them go 
 
 To ear" the land that liatli some hope to grow, 
 
 For I have none: — Let no man speak again 
 
 To alter this, for counsel is but vain. 
 
 Aum. My liege, one word. 
 
 K. Ric/i. He does rac double wrong 
 
 That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. 
 Discharge my followers, let them heuce ;— Away, 
 Kroni Richard's niglit, to Bolingbroke's fair day. 
 
 [Ej:eunl. 
 
 SCENE III.— Wales. Befare Flint CasUe. 
 
 Enter, with. Drums and Colm-s, BoLixcEnoKE and 
 
 Furces; York, Northumberlaxd, and others. 
 
 Baling. So that by this intelligence we Icam, 
 The Welshmen arc "dispers'd; and Salisbury 
 Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed. 
 With some few private friends, upon this coast. 
 
 North. The news is very fair and good, my lord: 
 Richard, not far from hence, liath hitl his head. 
 
 York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, 
 To sa}— king Richard:— Alack the heavy day. 
 When such a sacred king should hide his head ! 
 
 Nwth. Your grace mistakes me; only to he hrief. 
 Left I l;is title out. 
 
 York. The time hatli been, v 
 
 Would you have been so brief with iiim, he would 
 Have been so brief with you, to shorten you. 
 For taking so the head, your whole head's length. 
 
 Baling. Mistake not, uncle, farther than you 
 should. 
 
 York. Take not, good cousin, further than you 
 should. 
 Lest you mistake : The heavens arc o'er your head. 
 
 Baling. I Imow it, uncle; and oppose not 
 Myself against their will.— But who comes here? 
 
 Enter Percy. 
 Well. Harry; what, will not this castle yield? 
 
 Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, ray lord. 
 Against the entrance. 
 
 Baling. Royally! 
 
 Why, it contains no king? 
 
 Percy. Yes, my good lord. 
 
 It doth contain a king: king Richard lies 
 Within the limits of yon lime and stone; 
 And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury, 
 Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman 
 Of holy reverence, wlio, I cannot learn. 
 
 Norlh. Belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. 
 
 Baling. Noble lord, [Tii'Soina. 
 
 Go to tlie rude ribs of that ancient castle; 
 Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle 
 Into his ruin'd cars, and thus deliver: 
 Harry Bolingbroke 
 
 On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand; 
 And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart, 
 To his most royal person: hither come 
 Even at his feet to lay my arms and power; 
 P^o^ ided that, my banishment rei^eal'd. 
 And lands" restor'd again, be freely granted: 
 If not, I'll use the advantage of my power. 
 And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, 
 Rain'd'lTom the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: 
 The which, how far off from the mind of Bohng- 
 
 broke 
 It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench 
 The fresh green lap of tiiir king Richard's land. 
 My stooping duty tenderly shall show. 
 Go, signify as much; while here w;e march 
 
 Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. ■ 
 
 [NoRTHiMBEKi.Asn advanccs to the 
 Caatle with a Trumpet. 
 Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, 
 
 Plough. 
 
 That I'rom the castle's totter'd battlements 
 Our lair appoiiiIiiicnt.s may be well perused. 
 Jletliinks, kin;; Uichard arid my self should meet 
 Wilh no less terror tlian the elements 
 Of tire and water, when their thund'ring shock 
 At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. 
 Be he the lire, I'll be the yielding water: 
 The rage be his, while on the earth I rain 
 My waters; on the earth, and not on him. 
 March on, and mark king Ricliard how he looks. 
 A Parte ■•Kmnded, and ansu-ered by another Trum- 
 pet within. Flourish. Enleron toe iValls Kisa 
 Richard, /he Bishop of Caeli^e, Aumerle, 
 Scroop, and Salisdi"ry. 
 
 York. See. seeking Richard doth himsclfappear, 
 As doth the blushing discontented sun 
 From out the liery portal of the east; 
 When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
 To dim his glory, and to stain the track 
 Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
 Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye, 
 As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth. 
 Controlling inaicsty; Alack, alack, for woe. 
 That any harm' should stain so lair a show ! 
 K. Itich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we 
 stood 
 To watch the fearful bending of thy k-nee, 
 
 [TV) NORTHfMnERLAXD. 
 
 Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: 
 
 And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 
 
 To pay their awful duty to our presence ! 
 
 If %ve be not, show us the hand of God 
 
 That hath disraiss'd us from our stewardship; 
 
 For well we know, no hand of blood and bone 
 
 Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, 
 
 Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. 
 
 And though you think, that all, as you have done, 
 
 Have torn their souls, by turning them from us. 
 
 And we are barren, and bereft of friends; — 
 
 Yet know,— ray master, God omnipoloiit, 
 
 Is must'ring in his clouds,- on our brhalf. 
 
 Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike 
 
 Your children yet unborn, and unbegot. 
 
 That lilt your vassal hands against my head. 
 
 And threat the glory of my precious crown. 
 
 Tell Bolingbroke, (lor yond', methinks, he is,) 
 
 That every stride he makes upon my Innd, 
 
 Is dangerous treason : He is come to ope 
 
 The purple testament of bleeding war: 
 
 But ere the crown he looks for live in peace. 
 
 Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons 
 
 Shall ill become the flower of England's face; ' 
 
 Change the coiniilexion other maid-pale peace 
 
 To scarlet indignation,a!id bedew 
 
 Her pasluri'"s grass with faithful English blood. 
 
 North. The Idiig of heaven Ibrbid, our lord the 
 king 
 Should so with civil and uncivil arms 
 Be rush'd upon; Thy thrice-noble cousin, , 
 Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand; 
 And by the lionorable torab he swears. 
 That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones; 
 And by the royalties of both your bloods. 
 Currents that spring from one most aracious head; 
 And liy the buried hand of warlike Gaunt; 
 And by the worth and honor of himself. 
 Comprising all that may be sworn or said,— 
 His coming hilher hath" no further scop.-. 
 Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
 Enfranchisement imriieriiatc on his knees: 
 Which on tliv royal party granted once. 
 His glittering arms he will commend to rust. 
 His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
 To faithful service of your majesty. 
 This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; 
 And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. 
 
 A". Rich. Northumberland, say,— thus the king 
 
 returns- 
 
 His noble cousin is right, welcome hither; 
 And all the number of his fair demands 
 Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: 
 With all the gr.acioiis ullerance thou iiast. 
 Speak to his gentle hearing kind coriiinends.— 
 We do debase ourscil'. cousin, do we not. 
 To look so poorly, and to speak so lair ? [To Acii; 
 Shall we call back Northumberland, and send 
 Defiance to the traitor, and so die? 
 
 Aum. No. my good lord; let's fight with gentle 
 words, 
 
312 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful 
 
 swords. 
 K. Rick. O God! God! that e'er this tongue of 
 
 mine, 
 That laid the sentence of dread banishment 
 On yon proud man should take it oft' again 
 With words of sooth !' 0, that 1 were as great 
 As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! 
 Or that I could forget what 1 have been! 
 Or not remember wliat I must be now! 
 Swell'st thou, proud heart 1 I'll give thee scope to 
 
 beat, . 
 Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. 
 Aunt. Northumberland comes back from Boling- 
 
 broke. 
 K. Rich. What must the king do nowt Must 
 
 he submit! 
 The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd? 
 The king shall be contented: must he lose 
 The name of king? o'God's name, let it go: 
 I'll give my jewels for a set of beads; 
 My gorgeous palace, tor a hermitage; 
 My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown; 
 My ligur'd goblets, for a dish of wood; 
 My sceptre, for a palmer's walking statT; 
 My subjects, for a pair of carved saints; 
 And my large kingdom, for a little grave, 
 A little, little grave, an obscure grave: — 
 Or I'll be buried in the king's highway. 
 Some way of common trade where subjects' feet 
 May hourly trample on their sovereign's head : 
 For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live; 
 
 And, buried once, why not upon my head? 
 
 Aujnerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cousin! 
 We'll make foul weather with despised tears; 
 Our sighs and they, shall lodge the summer corn. 
 And make a dearth in this revolting land. 
 Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, 
 An.d make some pretty match with shedding tears; 
 As thus: — To drop them still upon one place, 
 Till they hflve fretted us a pair of graves 
 Within the earth; and therein laid, — The7-e lies 
 Two kin.smen, digged Ifieir graves Willi weeping 
 
 eyes ? 
 Would not this ill do well? — Well, well, I see 
 I talk but idly, and you mock at me.^ 
 Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, 
 What s.iys king Bolingbroke? will his majesty 
 (rive Richard leave to live till Richard die? 
 You make a leg," and Bolingbroke says— ay. 
 
 North.. My lord, in the base ^ court he doth attend. 
 To speak with you; may't please you to come 
 - down? 
 K. Rixk. Down, down, I come; like glistering 
 
 Phaeton, 
 Wanting the manage of unruly jades. 
 
 [North, relires to Doling. 
 In the b.ase court? Base court, where kings grow 
 
 base, 
 To cqme at traitors' call, and do them grace. 
 In the base court? Come dosvn? Down, court! 
 
 down, king! 
 For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should 
 
 sing. [Exeunt, from above. 
 
 Holing. What says his majesty i 
 
 North. .Sorrow and grief of heart 
 
 Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man: 
 Yet he is come. 
 
 Enter Kixc; Richahd, and his Attendants, below. 
 Soling. Stand all apart. 
 
 And stiow lair duty to his majesty. 
 
 My gracious lord,— [Kneeling. 
 
 K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely 
 knee. 
 To make the base earth proud with kissing it: 
 Me rather had, my heart might feel your love. 
 Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. 
 Up, cousin, up: yourheart is up, I kniow. 
 Thus high at least, [Touching his own hfad.] al- 
 though your knee be low. 
 Holing. My gracious lord, I come but for mineown. 
 K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and 
 
 all. 
 Holing. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, 
 As my true service shall deserve your love. 
 K.Rich. Well you deserve:— They well deserve 
 to have, 
 
 'Softness. »Aliow. SLower. 
 
 That know the strong'st and surest way to get. — 
 Uncle, give me your hand: nay dry your eyes; 
 Tears show their love, but want tlicir remedies.— 
 Cousin, I am too young to be your lather, 
 Thougn you are old enough to be my heir. 
 What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; 
 For do we must, what force will have us do. — 
 Set on towards London: Cousin, is it so? 
 
 Boling. Yea, my good lord. 
 
 K. Rich, Then I must not say, no. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Langley. Tlie duke of York's Gardcru 
 
 Enter the Qcee.n, and two Lai lies. 
 
 Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this 
 garden, 
 To drive away the heavy thought of care? 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls. 
 
 Queen. 'Twill make me think, 
 
 The world is full of rubs, and that my Ibrtune 
 Runs 'gainst the bias. 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, we will dance. 
 
 Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, 
 When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: 
 Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. 
 
 1 Ladi/. Madam, we'll tell talcs. 
 
 Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy ? 
 
 1 Lady. Of either, madam. 
 
 Queen. Of neither, girl; 
 
 For if of joy, being altogether wanting. 
 It dotli remember me the more of sorrow; 
 Or if of grief, being altogether had, 
 It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: 
 For what I have I need not to repeat; 
 And what I want, it boots not to complain. 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis well that thou hast cause; 
 
 But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou 
 weep. 
 
 1 Lady, I could weep, madam, would it do you 
 good. 
 
 Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me 
 good. 
 And never borrow any tear of thee. 
 But stay, here come the gardeners : . 
 Let's step into the shadow of these trees. — 
 Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. 
 My wretchedness unto a row of pins. 
 They'll talk of state; for every one doth so 
 Against a change: Woe is forerun with woe. 
 
 [Queen and Ladies retire. 
 
 Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks, 
 Which, like unruly children, make their sire 
 Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: 
 Give some supportance to the bending twig*. — 
 Go thoii, and like an executioner. 
 Cut olf the heads of too-fast-growing sprays, 
 Tliat look too lofty in our commonwealth: 
 
 All must be even in our government. • 
 
 You thus emplny'd, I will go root away 
 The nciisciiiie weeds, that vvithout proht suck 
 The soil's lertility from wholesome flowers. 
 
 1 .s'fni. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, 
 Keep law, and form, and due proportion. 
 Showing, as in a model, our firm estate? 
 When our sea-walled garden, the wliole land. 
 Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers cliok'd up. 
 Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruiu'd. 
 Her knots* disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs 
 Swarming with caterpillars? 
 
 Gard. Hold thy peace:— 
 
 He that hath sufTer'd this disorder'd spring. 
 Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 
 The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did 
 
 shelter. 
 That seem'd in eating him to hold him up. 
 Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke; 
 I mean the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 
 
 1 Serv. What, are they dead? 
 
 Gard. They are; and Bolingbroke 
 
 Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. — Oh! what pity is it 
 That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land. 
 As we this garden! We at time of year 
 Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees; 
 Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood. 
 With too much riches it contbund itself: 
 Had he done so to great and growing men, 
 * Figures planted in a bos. 
 
Act IV. Scene I. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 313 
 
 They might have liv'd to hear, and he to taste 
 Their fruits ofduty. All superlUious branches 
 We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: 
 Had he done so, himself had borne the crowTi, 
 Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. 
 
 1 fiei-v. What, think you then, the king shall be 
 depos'd ? 
 
 Gard. Depressed he is already; and depos'd, 
 'Tis doubt he will be: Letters came last night 
 To a dear friend of the duke of York's 
 That tell black tidings. 
 
 Queen. 0, 1 am press'd to death. 
 
 Through want of speaking! — Thou, old Adam's 
 likeness, [Coming from her concealment. 
 Set to dress the garden, how dares 
 Thy iiiirsh-rude tongue sound this unplcasing news] 
 What Kve, what serpent hath suggested thee 
 To make a second fall of cursed man'? 
 Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd? 
 Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth. 
 Divine his downfain Say where, when, and how, 
 Cam'st tliou by these ill tidings? Speak, thou 
 wretch. 
 
 Gard. Pardon me, madam ; little joy have I, 
 To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true. 
 King Richard, he is in the mighty hold 
 Of BolLngbroke; their fortunes botli arc weigh'd: 
 
 In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, 
 
 And some few vanities that make him light; 
 
 But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, 
 
 Besides himself are all the English peers. 
 
 And with that odds he weighs king Richard down 
 
 Post you to London, and you'll find il so; 
 
 I speak no more than every man doth know. 
 
 Queen. Nimble mischance, thou art so light of 
 foot, 
 Doth not thy embassage belong to me. 
 And am I last that knows it? O, thou tliink'st 
 To serve me last, that I may longest keep 
 Thy sorrow in my breast.— Come. ladies, go, 
 To meet at London London's king in woe. — 
 Wliat, was I born to this! that my sad look 
 Should grace the triumph of great Bohngbroke? 
 Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, 
 I would, the plants thou graft'st may never grow, 
 [Exeunt Qiteen and Ladies. 
 
 Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state niiglit be no 
 worse, 
 I would, my skill were subject to Ihy curse.— 
 Here, did she drop a tear; here, in this place, 
 I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: 
 Rue, even for ruth, here shortly sh3l be seen, 
 In the remembrance of a weeping queen. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. Westminster-Hall. 
 
 The Lords Spiritual on the right xide of the Throne ,• 
 the Lords Temporal on the left; the Commons 
 below. Enter Bolixobroke, Almerle, Surrey, 
 NoRTUiTMUEULAND, PERCY, KiTZWATER, another 
 Lord, Bishop of Carlisle, Abbot of Westmin- 
 ster, and Attendants. Ollicers behind, with 
 Bacot. 
 
 Baling. Call forth Bagot: 
 
 Now, Bagot freely speak thy mind, 
 What thou dost IvTiow of noble Gloster's death; 
 Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd 
 The bloody oflicc of his timeless end ? 
 
 Hagnt. Tiieu set before my face the lord Au- 
 merle. 
 
 Boting. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that 
 man. 
 
 Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring 
 tongue 
 Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. 
 In that dead tiiiie when Gloster's death was plotted, 
 I hoard you say, — h not mu arm tf length, 
 That reachcthfrom the restful English court 
 As fur us Calais, to mi/ uncle''s head? 
 AnioML'st much other talk, that very time, 
 I heard you say that you had rather refuse 
 The Oder of a hundred thousand crowns. 
 Than Bolingbrokc's return to England; 
 Adtliiig withal, how blest this land would be, 
 In Ibis your cousin's death. 
 
 Auni. Princes and noble lords. 
 
 What answer shall I make to this base man? 
 Shall 1 so much dishonor my fair stars. 
 On equal terms to give him chastisement ? 
 Either I must, or have mine honor soil'd 
 
 With the attainder of his sland'rous lips. 
 
 There is my gage, the manual seal of death, 
 That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest. 
 And will maintain, what thou hast said, is lalse. 
 In thy heart-blood, though being all too base 
 To stain the temper of my knightly sword. 
 
 Bating. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. 
 
 Aura. Excepting one, I would he were the best 
 In all this presence that hath mov'd me .so. 
 
 FitT If that Ihy valor stand on sympathies, 
 There is my gage, Aumerle. m gage to thine: 
 By that fair sun that sliows me where tiiou stand'st, 
 I heard thee say, and vauntiiiLly lliou spak'st it. 
 That thou wert cause of noMe (:ioster's death. 
 If thou deuy'st it. twenty times thou liest; 
 And I will turn thy lalsehood to Ihy heart. 
 Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. 
 
 Aum. Thou' dar'st not, coward, live to see that 
 day. 
 
 Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this 
 hour. 
 
 Aum. Fit?.water, thou art dainn"d to hell for this. 
 
 Percy. Aumerle, Ihou liest; his honor is as true. 
 In this appeal, as thou art all unjust: 
 And, that thou art so, there I thro\v my gage, 
 To prove it on thee to the cxtrcmest point 
 Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, 
 And never brandish more revengeful steel 
 Over the glittering helmet of my foe! 
 
 Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn Au- 
 merle; 
 And spur thee on with full as many lies 
 As may be lioUa'd in thy treacherous ear 
 From sun to sun: there is my honor's jiawn; 
 Eng.agc it to the trial, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Aum. Who sets me else ? by heaven. Til throw 
 at all: 
 I ha^'c a thousand spirits in one breast, 
 To answer twenty tliousand such as you. 
 
 Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember Well 
 The very time .Aumerle and you did talk. 
 
 Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence 
 then; 
 And you can witness with me, this is true. 
 
 Surrey. As lalsc, by heaven, as heaven itself is 
 true. 
 
 Fi/z. Surrey, thou liest. 
 
 Surrey. Dishonorable boy ! 
 
 That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, 
 That it shall render vengeance and revenge. 
 Till thou the lie-giver, and that he, do lie 
 In earth as quiet as thy father's skull. 
 In proof whereof, there is»my honor's pawn ; 
 Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Fitz. How fondly dost thou sjjur a Ibrward liorse ! 
 If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, 
 1 dare meet Surrey in a wilderness. 
 And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies. 
 And lies, and lies; there is my bond of faith. 
 To tie thee to my strong correction. — 
 As I intend to thrive in this new world, 
 Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal: 
 Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say. 
 That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men 
 To execute the noble duke at Calais. 
 
 Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a 
 gage 
 That Norfolk lies: here do I throw domi this. 
 If he may bo repeal'd to try his honor. 
 
 Boling. These ditference shall all rest under 
 g'age. 
 Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, 
 And, though mine enemy, rcstor'd again 
 
314 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 To all his land and seignories; when he's return'd, 
 Against Aiinieric we will enlbrce his trial. 
 
 Car. That honorable day shall ne'er he seen. — 
 Many a time hath banish'd Norliilk fought 
 For Jesu Christ; in glorious Christian lield 
 Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, 
 Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens: 
 And, toil'd with works of war, retired himself 
 To Italy; and there at Venice, gave 
 His body to that pleasent country's earth, 
 And his pure soul unto his cajitain Ciirist, 
 Under wliose colors he had lought so lopg. 
 
 Buliiig. Why, bishop, is Nortblkdead! 
 
 Cur. As sure as I live, my lord. 
 
 Buling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to 
 the bosom 
 Of good old .\braham! — Lords appellants, 
 Your diflijrence shall all rest under gage. 
 Till we assign you to your days of trial. 
 
 Enter York, attended. 
 
 York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee 
 From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing 
 
 soul 
 Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields 
 To the possession of thy royal hand: 
 Ascend his throtie, descending now from him. — 
 And long live Henry, of that name the iburth! 
 
 Baltit^. In Ciod's name, I'll ascend the regal 
 throne. 
 
 Car. Marry, God forbid!— 
 Worst in this royal presence may I speak, 
 Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
 Would God, that any in this noble presence 
 Were enough noble to be upright judge 
 Of noble Richard; then true nobless would . 
 Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
 What subject can give sentence on his kingT 
 And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject? 
 Thieves are not jjjdg'd. but they are by to hear, 
 Although apparent guilt be seen in them ; 
 And shall the Iigure of God's majesty, 
 His captain, steward, dt'puf>- elect, 
 Anointed, crowned, planlcd many years, 
 Be judg'd by subject and iuil ruir'breath, 
 And he himself not present] O, forbid it, God, 
 That, in a Christian climate, souls rctined 
 Should show so henious, black, obscene a deed! 
 1 speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
 Slirr'd up by heaven thus boldly lor his king. 
 My lord of Hereford here, whom you call idhg. 
 Is a fold traitor to proud Hereford's king: 
 And if j'ou crown him, let me prophesy,— 
 The blood of Euglish shall manure the ground, 
 And future ages groan lor this fold act; 
 Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Inlidcis, 
 And, in this seat ol' peace, tumultuous wars 
 Shall kin with kin, .and kind with kind confound; 
 Disorder, horror, fear, and_ mutiny. 
 Shall here inhabit, and tlii's land be call'd 
 The field of Golgotha, and dead men's skulls. 
 O, if thou rear this house against this house, 
 It will the woefuUest division prove. 
 That ever fell upon this cursed earth: 
 Prevent, resist it, let it not be so. 
 Lest child, child's children, cry, against you— woe! 
 
 Nurth. Well have you argued, sir; and, for jour 
 pains. 
 Of capital treason we arrest you here: 
 My lord of Westminster, be it your charge 
 To keep him safely till his day of trial. — 
 May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. 
 
 Buliitg. Fetch hither Richard, that in common 
 view 
 He may surrender; so we shall proceed 
 Without suspicion. 
 
 York. I will he his conduct. [Eu'i/. 
 
 Buling. Lords, you that are here under ourarrest, 
 Procure your sureties lor your days of answer: — 
 Little are wo beholden to your love, [Tu CARLISLE. 
 And little look'd for at your helping hands. 
 
 Re-enter Yonic, ivitli Kixa RioriAim, and Officers 
 bearing tlie Crown, i^-c. 
 
 K. RirM. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, 
 Before I have shook oil' the regal thoughts 
 Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have leam'd 
 To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee:— 
 Give sorrow leave a while to tutor uie 
 
 To this submission. Yet I well rciuember 
 The favors'^ of these men: Were they not mine] 
 Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me? — 
 So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve. 
 Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, 
 
 none. 
 God save the king! — Will no man say, amen? 
 Am I both priest and clerk ! well then, amen. 
 God save the king! although I be not he; 
 And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. — 
 To do what service am I sent for hither? 
 
 Yurk. To do that office of thine own good will, 
 
 Which tired majesty did make thee otler, 
 
 The resignation of thy state and crown 
 To Henry Bolingbroke. 
 K. Ricti. Give me the crown:— Here, cousin, 
 seize the crown ; 
 Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. 
 Xow is this golden crown like a deep well. 
 That owes'' two buckets lilling one another; 
 The emptier ever dancing in the air. 
 The other down, unseen, and lull of water: 
 That bucket down, and full of tears, am I, 
 Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high 
 Baling. I thought you had been willing to resign 
 K. Ricli. My crown, I am; but still my griefs are 
 mine: 
 You may my glories and my state depose. 
 But not my grief; still am I king of those. 
 Boling. Partof your cares you give me with your 
 
 crown. 
 K. Rich. Your cares set up do not pluck my 
 cares down. 
 My care is — loss of care, by old care done; 
 Your care is — gain of care^ by new care won: 
 The cares I give, I have, though given away; 
 They tend tlie crown, yet still with me they stay. 
 Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown? 
 K. Rich. Ay, no;— no, ay;— For I must nothing 
 be; 
 Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. 
 Now mark me how I will undo myself: — 
 1 give this heavy weight from off my head. 
 And this unwieldly sceptre from my hand, 
 .Tlie pride of kingly sway from out my lieart; 
 With mine own tears I wash away my balm,' 
 With mine own hands I give away my crown. 
 With mine own tongue deny my sacred state. 
 With mine own breath release all duteous oaths: 
 All pomp and majesty I do forswear; 
 My manors, rents, revenues, I forego; 
 My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny: 
 God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me ! 
 God keep all vows unbroke. are made to thee! 
 Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd; 
 And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd! 
 Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, 
 And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! — 
 God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, 
 And send liiin many years of sunshine days! — 
 What more remains? 
 North. No more, but that you read 
 
 [Offering a Paper. 
 These accusations and these grievous crimes. 
 Committed by your person, and your followers, 
 Against the state ami profit of this land; 
 That, by coiili'ssing Ihem. the souls of men 
 May deem that you are worthily depos'd. 
 
 A'. Uirh. Must I do so! and must I ravel out 
 Jly weav'd up follies! Gentle Northumberland, 
 If thy olleuces were upon record. 
 Would it not shame thee in so lair a troop. 
 To read a lecture of them? II' thou wouldst, 
 There shouldst thou find one henious article,— 
 Containing the deposing of a king. 
 And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, — 
 Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of hea- 
 ven: — 
 Nay. all of you, that stand .and look upon me. 
 Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself— 
 Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, 
 Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates 
 Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross. 
 And water cannot wash away your sin. 
 North. My lord, despatch: read o'er these ar- 
 ticles. 
 A'. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot 
 see: 
 
 "Countenances. ^Owas. ■> Oil of consecration. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 315 
 
 And yet salt water blinds them not so mucli, 
 But they c;in see a sort^ of traitors here. 
 Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, 
 I rtnd iiiy.self a traitor with the rest: 
 For I ]r.ive i;iven her my soul's consent, 
 To undeck the pompous body of a Idng; 
 i\Ial\e {^lory base; and sovereignty, a slave; 
 Proud inajesty, a subject; state, a peasant. 
 
 Kurlh. My lord, 
 
 K. Rich. So lord of thine, thou haught, insult- 
 ing man, 
 Kor no man\s lord; I Jiave no name, no title, — 
 No, not that name was ^iven me at the font, 
 But 'tis usurp'd: — Alack the heavy day, 
 That 1 have worn so many winters out, 
 And know not now what name to call myself! 
 O, that I wore a mockery kin^ of snow, 
 Standin;; belbre the sun of Bolingbroke, 
 To melt myself away in water-drops! — 
 Good king, — great king, — (and yet not greatly 
 
 good,) 
 An if my word be sterling yet in England 
 Let it command a mirror hither straight; 
 That it may show me what a lace I have, 
 .Since it IS bankrupt of his majesty. 
 
 Holing. Go some of you, and fetch a looking- 
 glass. [Sxi/ an Attendant. 
 North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth 
 
 come. 
 A'. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st mc ere I come 
 
 to hell. 
 Baling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumber- 
 land. 
 Aur/h. The commons will not then be satisfied. 
 K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, 
 When I do see the very book indeed 
 Where all uiy sins are writ, and that's myself. — 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass. 
 Give mc that slass, and therein will I read. — 
 Nodcep.r wruikles yet! Hath sorrow struck 
 So many blows upon this face of mine, 
 iind made no deeper wounds'! — O, Ilattering glass. 
 Like to my followers in prosperity. 
 Thou dost beguile me !— Was this liice the face. 
 That every day under his household roof 
 Lid keep ten thousand men ! Was this the fiice, 
 That, like the sun. did make beholders wink! 
 \Vas this the liice, that laced so many follies, 
 And was at last out-tiiccd by Bolingbroke! 
 A brittle glory shinelh in this liice: 
 As brittle as the glory is the face; 
 
 [Dashen the Gta.'is against the ground. 
 For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. — 
 
 JIark. silent king, the moral of this sport, — 
 How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my liice. 
 
 Baling. The shadow of yoursorrow hal'h destroy'd 
 The shadow of your face. 
 
 A'. Rich. Say that again. 
 
 The shadow of my sorrow! Ha! let's see:— 
 'Tis very true, my grief lies ail wilhin; 
 And these external manners of lament 
 Are merely shadows to the unseen grief. 
 That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul; 
 There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, 
 For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st 
 j\le cause to wail, but teacbest me the way 
 How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, 
 And then be gone, and trouble you no more. 
 Shall I obtain it! 
 Bating. Name it. fair cousin. 
 
 A'. Rich. Fair cousin! Why, I am greater than 
 a king: 
 For, when 1 was a king, my flatterers 
 Were then but subjects; being nowa subject, 
 I luive a king here to my flatterer. 
 Being so great, I have no need to beg. 
 Holing. Yet ask. 
 A'. Rich. And shall I have ! 
 Baling. You shall. 
 K. Rich. Then give mc leave to go. 
 Baling. Whitljer. 
 A'. Rich. Whillier you will, so I were from your 
 
 sights. 
 Baling. Go, some of you, convey him to the 
 
 Tower. 
 A'. Rich. O, good! Convey? — Conveyers' are 
 you all, 
 That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. 
 
 [Kx. K. Rici^AUD, Ao///e Lords, anil a Guards 
 Baling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set 
 down 
 Our coronation: lords,- prepare yourselves. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of 
 Caiii.isi.i;, and Aujikiile. 
 Ahhol. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. 
 far. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn 
 Shall l(>el ihis day as sharp to tliem as thorn. 
 Aurn. You holy clergymen, is there no plot 
 To rid the realm of this i)ernicious blot ! 
 
 Ahbat. Belore I freely speak my mind herein, 
 I'ou shall not only take the sacrament 
 To bury mine intents, but to el!i>ct 
 Whatever i shall hajipen to devise: — 
 I see your brows are lull of discontent, 
 Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;' 
 Come home with me to supper; I will lay 
 .■V plot, shall show us all a uierrj' day. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Street leading lo the Tower. 
 Enter Queen, and Ladies. 
 
 Queen. This way the king will come; this is the 
 
 way 
 To Julius Cesar's ill-erected tower,' 
 To whose flint bosom my condemned lord 
 Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke: 
 Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth 
 Have any resting for her true king's queen. 
 
 Ent.r King Richard, and Guards. 
 But soft, but see, or rather do not see. 
 My liiir rose wither: Y'et look up; behold; 
 That you in pity may dissolve to dew, 
 And wash him Iresh again with true love-tears. — 
 Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand; 
 Thou map of honor; thou king Richard's tomb. 
 And not king Richard; thou most beauteous iim. 
 Why should fiard-favor'd grief be lodg'd in thee. 
 When triumph is become an ale-house guest! 
 AT. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not 
 
 so. 
 To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul. 
 To think our fornier state a happy dream; 
 From which awaked, the truth of what we are 
 
 'Pack. "Tower of London. 
 
 Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, 
 To grim necessity: and he and I 
 Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, 
 And cloister thee in some religious house: 
 Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, — 
 Which our prolane hours here have stricken down. 
 Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and 
 
 mind 
 Translorm'd. and weakened ! Hath Bolingbroke 
 Depos'd thine intellect! hath lie been in tliy heart? 
 The lion, dying, thrustetb liirth his paw. 
 And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage, 
 To be o'erpowcr'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, 
 Take thy correction mildly ! kiss the rod, 
 And linvii on rage with b:ise humility. 
 Which art a lion, and a king df beasts? 
 A'. Rich. A king of beasts indeed! if aught but 
 
 beasts, 
 I had been still a happy king of men. 
 Good sometime queen, prepare thcc hence for 
 
 France: 
 Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st, 
 As from my death-bed, my last living leave. 
 In winter's tedious nights, sit by the tire. 
 With good old folks; and let them tell thee tale J 
 
 ' Jugglers, also robbers. 
 
316 
 
 KING RICHAED II. 
 
 Act V 
 
 or woeful ages. Ions a;;o betid: 
 
 Ani1, ere tliou bid iun.l iiinlit, to quit' their grief, 
 
 Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, 
 
 And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 
 
 For why, the senseless brands will sympatliize 
 
 The heavy accent of thy moving tongue. 
 
 And, in compassion, weep the fire out: 
 
 And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, 
 
 Kor the deposing of a rightful king. 
 
 Enter Northumbehland, aitended. 
 
 Nurth. My lord, the mind of Bolinghroke is 
 changed ; 
 You must to Pomfret, not, unto the Tower.— 
 And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; 
 With all swift sijeed you must away to France. 
 
 K. Rich. Nortiiumberland, thou ladder where- 
 withal 
 The mounting Bolinghroke ascends my throne, — 
 Tlic time shall not be many hours of age 
 More than it is. ere Ibul sin, gathering head, 
 Shall break into corruption: thou shall think, 
 Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, 
 It is too little, lielping him to all; 
 And he sliall think, that thou, which knovv'st the 
 
 way 
 To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again. 
 Being ne'er so little urged, another way 
 To phirk him headlong from the usurped throne. 
 The li>ve of wicked friends converts to fear; 
 That lear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both. 
 To worthy danger, and deserved death. 
 
 Nar/k. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. 
 Take leave, and part ; for you must part forthwith. 
 
 JC. Rich. Doubly divorced !— Bad men, ye violate 
 A two-lbid marriage: 'twixt my crown and me; 
 And then, betwixt me and my married wife.— 
 Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; 
 And yet not so, tor with a kiss 'twas made. — 
 Part us Northumberland; I towards the north. 
 Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; 
 My wife to France; from whence, set forth in 
 
 pomp. 
 She came adorned hither like sweet May, 
 Sent back like Hollowmas,' or short'st of day. 
 
 Queen. And must we be divided? must we part? 
 
 AT. Rich. Ay. hand irom hand, my love, and heart 
 from heart. 
 
 Queen. ISanish us both,and send the king with me. 
 
 Nnrfh. That were some love, but little policy. 
 
 Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. 
 
 K. Rich. .'Jo two, together weeping, make one woe. 
 Weep tliou for me in France, I for thee here; 
 Better far oft", than— near, be ne'er the near'. 
 Go, count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans. 
 
 Queen. So longest way shall have the longest 
 moans. 
 
 K. Rich. Twice for one step FU groan, the way 
 ■being short. 
 And piece -the way out with a heavy heart. 
 Come, come, in wooing sorrow, let's he brief. 
 Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. 
 One kiss shall stop ouv mouths, and dumbly part; 
 Thus give 1 mine, and thus I take thy heart. 
 
 [The;/ kiss. 
 
 Queen. Give me raineown again; 'twere no good 
 part. 
 To take on rae to keep and kill thy heart. 
 
 [Kiss again. 
 So, now I have mine own again, begone. 
 That I may strive to kill it with a groan. 
 
 A'. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond 
 delay: 
 Once more adieu ; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n.—The satne. A Room in the Duke of 
 
 York's Palace. 
 
 Enter YoRit, and his Duchess. 
 
 Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the 
 rest. 
 When weeping made you break the story olT, 
 Of our two cousins coming into London. 
 York. Where did I leave ! 
 
 Oucli. At that sad stop, my lord, 
 
 Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' 
 
 tops, 
 Tiirew dust and rubbish on Icing Richard's head. 
 
 •Eequite, repay. ^ AUhallows. i. e. AlI-8.aints.Nov. 1. 
 
 York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boliiis- 
 broke, — 
 Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
 Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, — 
 With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course. 
 While all tongues cried — God save thee, Boling- 
 hroke ! 
 You would have thought the very windows spake, 
 So many greedy looks of young and old 
 Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
 Upon his visage; and that all the walls, 
 With painted imagery, had said at once, — 
 Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolinghroke; 
 Whilst lie, from one side to the other turning, 
 Barclicaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
 Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen: 
 And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 
 
 Duch. Alas, poor Uichard! where rides ho the 
 while] 
 
 York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
 After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, 
 Are idly hent on him tiiat enters next, 
 Thinking his prattle to be tedious: 
 Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
 Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him! 
 No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: 
 But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; 
 Which with such gentle sorrow he shook oil, — 
 His face still combating with tears and smiles, 
 The badges of his grief and patience, — 
 That, had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 
 The heartsof men, they must perforce have melted, 
 And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
 But heaven hath a hand in these events; 
 To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
 To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, 
 Whose state and honor I for aye allow. 
 
 Enter Ahmerle. 
 
 Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. 
 
 York. Aumorle that was; 
 
 But that is lost for being Richard's friend. 
 And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: 
 1 am in parliament pledge for his truth. 
 And lasting fealty to the new-made king. 
 
 Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the \'iolets 
 now, 
 That strew the green lap of the new-come spring! 
 
 Atim. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: 
 God knows, 1 had as lief be none, as one. 
 
 York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of 
 time. 
 Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. 
 What news from Oxlbrd! hold those justs* and 
 triumphs ! 
 
 A urn. For aught I know, my lord, they do. 
 
 York. You will be there, I know. 
 
 Aum. If God prevent it not; 1 purpose r-o. 
 
 York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy 
 bosom ? 
 Yea. look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. 
 
 Aum. My lord, 'iis nothing. 
 
 York. No matter then who sees it: 
 
 I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. 
 
 Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; 
 It is a matter of small consequence. 
 Which for some reasons I would not have seen. 
 
 York. Which for some reason, sir, I mean to see. 
 I fear. I fear, 
 
 Ducti. What should you fear? 
 
 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into 
 For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. 
 
 York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a 
 bond 
 That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. — 
 Boy, let me see the writing. 
 
 Aum. 1 do beseech you, pardon me; I may not 
 show it. 
 
 York. I will be satisfied; let rae see it, I say. 
 
 [Snatches it, and reads. 
 Treason! foul treason! villain! traitor! slave! 
 
 Duch. What is the matter, my lord ! 
 
 York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Servant 
 Saddle my horse. 
 God for his mercy! what treachery is here! 
 
 Duch. Why, what is it, my lord? 
 
 York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle ray 
 horse : 
 
 * Tilts and tournamentfl. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 317 
 
 Now by mine honor, by my life, my troth, 
 
 I will appeach the viilaiii. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Duch. What's the matter 1 
 
 Yark. Peace, foolish woman. 
 
 Duck. I will not peace :— What is the matter, sent 
 
 Aiurt. Good mother, be content; it is no more 
 Than my poor lile must answer. 
 
 Buch. Thy life answer! 
 
 Re-enter Servant, with. Boots. 
 
 Yorlc. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. 
 
 Ducli. Strike him, Aumerle. — Poor boy, thou art 
 amaz'd: 
 Hence, villain; never more come in my sight. — 
 
 [Tv ttie Servant. 
 
 York. Give me my boots, I say. 
 
 Duck. Why, York, what wilt tliou do 1 
 Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine ownl 
 Have we more sons! or are we like to have? 
 Is not my teeming* date drunk up with time? 
 And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mitie age, 
 And rob me of a happy mother's name? 
 Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? 
 
 Ywk. Thou fond mad woman. 
 Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? 
 A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, 
 And interchangeably set down their hands, 
 To kill tlie king at Oxford. 
 
 Duch. He shall be none; 
 
 We'll keep him here : Then what is that to him ? 
 
 York. Away, 
 Fond woman! were he twenty times my son, 
 1 would appeach him. 
 
 Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him, 
 
 As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. 
 But now I know tliy mind ; thou dost suspect, 
 That I have been disloyal to thy bed. 
 And tliat he is a bastard, not tjiy son: 
 Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: 
 He is as like thee as a man may be. 
 Not like to me, or any of my km, 
 And yet 1 love Iiim. 
 
 York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit. 
 
 Duch. Al\er, Aumerle; mount thee upon his horse; 
 Spur, post: and get before liim to the king. 
 And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. 
 I'll not be long behind ; though I be old, 
 I doubt not but to ride as fast as York! 
 And never will I rise up from the ground. 
 Till B"lingbrokehave pardon"d thee: Away: 
 Begone. ['Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Windsor. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Bolixgeroke, as King; Percy, and other 
 Lords. 
 
 Bating. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 
 'Tis full three months since I did see him last: — 
 If any plague hang o'er us, 'tis he. 
 I would to God. my lords, he might be found: 
 Inquire at London, 'inongst the taverns there, 
 For there, they say, he daily doth frequent. 
 With unrestrained loose companions; 
 Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes. 
 And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; 
 While he. young, wanton, and eSeminate boy, 
 Takes on the point of honor, to support 
 So dissolute a crew. 
 
 Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the 
 prince; 
 And told him of these triumph held at Oxford. 
 
 Bating. And what said the gallant? 
 
 Percy. His answer was,— he would unto the 
 stews ; 
 And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, 
 And wear it as a I'avor; and with that 
 He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. 
 
 Buling. As dissolute, as desperate! yet through 
 both 
 I see some sparkles of a better hope. 
 Which elder days may happily bring forth. 
 But who comes here? 
 
 Enter Aumerle hastily. 
 
 Aum. Where is the king ? 
 
 Baling. What means 
 
 Oui cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? 
 
 'Breeding 
 
 Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech j'our 
 majesty. 
 To have some conference with your grace alone. 
 Baling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here 
 alone.— [Exeunt Percy and Lords. 
 
 What is the matter with our cousin now? 
 Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, 
 
 [Kneels, 
 My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, 
 Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak. 
 
 Baling. Intended, or committed, was this fault? 
 If but the first, how heinous e'er it be. 
 To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. 
 Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn tlie 
 key. 
 That no man enter tiU my tale be done. 
 Baling. Have thy desire. 
 
 [Aumerle tocA'.t the door. 
 York. [Wiihin.] My liege, beware; look to thy- 
 self; 
 Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. 
 Baling. Villain, I'll ma'ke thee safe. [Draming, 
 Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand; 
 Tiinu hast no cause to Ii?ar. 
 York. [IVUhin.] Oponthedoor, secure, fool-hardy 
 king: 
 Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? 
 Open the door, or I will break it open. 
 
 [BoLixGBROKE opens the door. 
 
 Enter Y'ore. 
 Baling. What is the matter, tmcle? speak; 
 Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger, 
 That we may arm us to encounter it. 
 
 York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shall 
 know 
 The trca4)n tliat my haste forbids me show. 
 Aum. Remember, as thou read's!, thy promise 
 past: 
 I do repent me; read not my name tliere, 
 My heart is not confederate with my hand. 
 York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it 
 down. — 
 I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king: 
 Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: 
 Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove 
 A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. 
 Baling. heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy !— 
 
 loyal lather of a treacherous son ! 
 
 Thou sheer,' immaculate, and silver fountain, 
 From whence this stream through muddy passages, 
 Hath held his current, and defiled himsell ! 
 Tliy overilow of good convert:^ to bad; 
 And thy abundant goodness shall excuse 
 This deadly plot in thy disgressing son. 
 
 Ytn-k. So shall my virtue be his vice's baw'd; 
 And he shall spend mine honor with his shame. 
 As thrilUcss sons their scraping fathers' gold. 
 Mine honor lives when his dislionor dies. 
 Or my shamed life in his dishonor lies ; 
 Thou kiU'st me in his life; giving him breath, 
 The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. 
 
 Duch. [IVithin.] What ho, my liege! for God's 
 sake let me in. 
 
 Baling. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this 
 eager cry ? 
 
 Duch. A woman, and thine aimt, great king; 
 'lis I. 
 Speak with me, pity me, open the door; 
 A beggar begs, that never begg'd before. 
 
 Baling. Our scene is alter'd,— from a serious 
 thing. 
 And now changed to The Beggar and the King.''— 
 My dangerous cousin, let your mother in; 
 
 1 know she's come to pray for your foul sin. 
 
 York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, 
 More sins, for this Ibrgiveness, prosper may. 
 This fester'd joint cut oil", tile rest rests sound ; 
 This, let alone, will all the rest confound. 
 
 Enter Duchess. 
 Duch. king, beUeve not this hard-hearted man; 
 Love, loving not itself, none other can. 
 York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou 
 make here? 
 Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? 
 Duch. Sweet York, be patient: Hear me, gentle 
 lifSe. [Kneels, 
 
 ' Transparent. 
 
 'An old ballad. 
 
318 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Bnlin^. Rise up, good aunt. 
 
 Duck. Not yet, I thee beseech: 
 
 For ever will I kneel upon my knees. 
 And never see day that the happy sees. 
 Till tliou give joy; until thou bid me joy, 
 By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. 
 
 Aiim. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my 
 knee. [Kneels. 
 
 York. Against them both, my true joints bended 
 be. [Kneels. 
 
 Ill mayst tliou thrive, if thou grant any grace ! 
 
 Ditch. Pleads he in earnest ! look upon his face; 
 His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; 
 His words coine liom his moutli, ours from our 
 
 breast: 
 He prays but faintly, and would be denied; 
 We pray with heart, and soul, and all besidei 
 His weary joints would gladly rise, 1 know; 
 Our knees shall kneel tiU to the ground they grow; 
 His prayers are full of lalse hypocrisy; 
 Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. 
 Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have 
 That mercy which true prayers ought to have. 
 
 Billing. Good aunt, stand up. 
 
 Duck. Nay, do not say — stand up; 
 
 But. pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up. 
 An il 1 were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach. 
 Pardon— should be the first word of thy speech. 
 1 never iong'd to hear a word till now; 
 Say— pardon, king; let pity teach thee how: 
 Tile word is short, but not so short as sweet; 
 No word like, pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. 
 
 Yijiic. Speak it in French, king; say, panlimnez 
 moij. ^ 
 
 Duck. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy] 
 Ah, my sour husband, my liard-hearled lord. 
 That set'st the word itself against the word! — 
 Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land; 
 Tlie chopping French we do nut understand. 
 Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there : 
 Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; 
 That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce. 
 Pity may move thee, pardon to renearse. 
 
 Botiiig. Good aunt, stand up. 
 
 Duck. 1 do not sue to stand, 
 
 Parduu is all the suit I have in hand. 
 
 Buling. I pardon him, as God sliall pardon me. 
 
 Duck. happy vantage of a kneeling liiiee ! 
 Yet am I sick lor tear: speak it again ; 
 Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, 
 But makes oiie pardon strong. 
 
 Baling. With all my heart, 
 
 I pardoii him. 
 
 Hack. A god on earth thou art. 
 
 Buling. But lor our trusty brother-in-law, — and 
 tlie abbot. 
 With all the rest of that consorted crew, — 
 Destruction straight shall' dog tliem at the heels. — 
 Good uncle, help to order several powers 
 To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are: 
 They shall not live within this world, I swear. 
 But! will have them, if I once knew where. 
 Uncle, farewell, — and cousin, too, adieu: 
 Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. 
 
 Duck. Come, my old son; — 1 pray God make 
 thee new. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Enter Exton awl a Servant. 
 Exton. Didst thou not mark the king what words 
 he spake 1 
 Have I no friend will rid me oflhis living fear? 
 Was it not so i. 
 Serv. Those were his very words. 
 
 Exton. Have Inofriendl' quoth he: ho spake it 
 twice. 
 And urged it twice together; did he notl 
 Serv. He did. 
 
 Exiiiii. And spcakingit, lie wistfully look'd on me; 
 As who should say, — I would, thou wcrt the man 
 That would divorce this terror from my heart; 
 Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go; 
 I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE v.— Pomfret. Tke Castle. 
 
 Enter King Richard. 
 
 K. Rich. I have been studying how I may compare 
 This jirison, where I live, unto the world: 
 
 ^Excuse me. 
 
 And, for because the world is populous, 
 And here is not a creature but myself, 
 I cannot do it; — Yet I'll hammer it out. 
 My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; 
 JMy soul, the lather: and these two beget 
 A generation of still-breeding thoughts, 
 And these same tiioughts people this little world; 
 In humors, like the people of tliis world; 
 p^or no thought is contented. The better sort, — 
 As thoughts of things divine. — are intermix'd 
 With scruples, and do set the word itself 
 Against the word: 
 
 As thus. — Come, little nnes; and then again,— 
 It is as hard to come, as for a camel 
 To thrriiil tke pnslern" of a needless eije. 
 Tiioughts tennuig to ambition, they do plot 
 Unlikel)" wonders: how tliese vain weak nails 
 May tear a passage through the flinty ribs 
 Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; 
 And, Ibr they cannot, die in their own pride. 
 Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves,— 
 That they are not the flrst of ibrtunc's slaves, 
 Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars. 
 Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, 
 That many have, and others must sit there; 
 And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
 Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
 Of such as have before endured the like. 
 Thus play I, in one person, many people. 
 And none contented: Sometimes am I king. 
 Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar; 
 And so I am: Then crushing penury 
 Persuades me I was l)etter when a king; 
 Then am I king'd again: and, by-aud-by, 
 Think that I am unking'd by Boiingbroke, 
 And straight am nothing; — but what'er I am, 
 Nor I, any man, that but man is. 
 With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd 
 With being nothing. — Music do I hear] [Music. 
 Ha, iia! keep time: — How sour sweet music is, 
 When time is broke, and no proportion kept! 
 So is it in the music of men's lives. 
 And here have I the daintiness of ear. 
 To check time broke in adisordcr'd string; 
 But, for the concord of my state and time. 
 Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. 
 I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. 
 For now Iiath time made me his nnmb'ring clock. 
 My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar 
 Their watches on to mine eves, the outward watch 
 Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, 
 Is pointing still, in cleansing tiiem from tears. 
 Now, sir, the sounds that tell wiiat hour it is. 
 Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart. 
 Which is the bell; So sighs, and tears, and groans, 
 Show minutes, times, and hours: — but my time 
 Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, 
 While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock.' 
 This music mads me, let it sound no more; 
 For though it have holp madmen to their wits, 
 In me, it ^eems it will make wise men mad. 
 Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! 
 For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard 
 Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. 
 Enter Groom. 
 
 Groom. Hail, royal prince ! 
 
 K. Kick. Thanlis, noble peer; 
 
 The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. 
 What art thou! and how comest thou hither. 
 Where no man never comes, but that sad dog 
 That brings me food, to make misfortune live? 
 
 Groom, I was a poor groom of thy stable, liing, 
 When thou wert king; who, travelling towards 
 
 York, 
 With much ado, at length have gotten leave 
 To look upon my sometime master's lace. 
 O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld. 
 In London streets, that coronation day. 
 When Boiingbroke rode on roan. Barbaryl 
 That horse, that thou so olten hast bestrid. 
 That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd ! 
 
 K. Rick. Rode he on Barbary ! Tell me, gentle 
 friend. 
 How went he under him? 
 
 Groom. So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. 
 
 K. Rich. So proud that Boiingbroke was on his 
 back! 
 
 'Little gate. 
 
 ' Strike for him, like the figure of » man on a bell. 
 
SCEKE VI. 
 
 KING EICHARD II. 
 
 319 
 
 That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; 
 This hand liath made liim proud with clapping 
 
 him. 
 Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down. 
 (Since pride must have a (all,) and break the neck 
 Of that proud man that did usurp his back 7 
 Korjiiveitess, horse! wliy do I rail on thee, 
 Since thou, created to lie aw'd by man, 
 Wast born to bearl I was not made a horse; 
 And yet I bear a burden like an ass, 
 Spur-gall'd, and tired, by jauncing Bolingbroke. 
 
 Enter Keeper, with a Dis/t. 
 
 Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. 
 
 [To the Groom. 
 
 K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wort 
 
 away. 
 Groom. What my tongue dares not, that' my heart 
 shall say. [£jHt. 
 
 Keep. My lord, wiirt please you to fall to? 
 K. Rich. Taste ot it tirst, as thou art wont to do. 
 Keep. My lord, 1 dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, 
 wlio 
 J Lately came from the king, commands the con- 
 trary. 
 K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and 
 thee! 
 Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. 
 
 [Beats the Keeper. 
 Keep. Help, help, help ! 
 
 Enter Exton, and Servants armeil. 
 K. Rich. How now! what means death in this 
 rude assault! 
 Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instru- 
 ment. 
 
 [Snatching a weajmn, and killing one. 
 Go thou, and fill anotlier room in hell. 
 
 [He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. 
 That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire. 
 That staggers thus my person. — Exton, thy fierce 
 
 hand 
 Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own 
 
 land. 
 Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high ; 
 Whilst my gross llesh sinks downward here to die. 
 
 [Dies. 
 Exton. As full of valor, as of royal blood: 
 Both have 1 spilt; O, would the deed w'ere good ! 
 For now the devil, that told me — I did well. 
 Says that this deed is chronicled in heJI. 
 This de;ul king to the liviiit: king I'll bear; — 
 Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VL— Windsor. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Fbntr'ish. Enter BoLiNC.nnoKE, and York, vrith 
 Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Baling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we 
 11 ear. 
 Is — that the rebels have consumed with fire 
 Uur town of Cicester in Glostershire; 
 iut whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. 
 
 Enter Noktuumbekland. 
 Welcome, my lord : What is the news ! 
 J^orth. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap- 
 piness. 
 The next news is,— I have to London sent 
 The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: 
 The manner of their taking may appear 
 At large discoursed in (his paper here. 
 
 [Presenting a paper. 
 Baling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, lor thy 
 pains; 
 And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. 
 Enter Fitzwater. 
 
 Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to Lon- 
 don 
 The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely; 
 Two of tile dangerous consorted traitors, 
 That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. 
 
 Biding. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; 
 Right noble is thy merit, well 1 wot. 
 
 Enter Percy, with the Bisuo? of Carlisle. 
 
 Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West- 
 minster, 
 With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy, 
 Hath yielded up his body to the grave; 
 But here is Carlisle living to abide 
 Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. 
 
 Baling. Carlisle, this is your doom; — 
 Choose out some secret place, some re^ erend room, 
 More than thou hast, and with it 'joy thy life; 
 So, as thou liv'st in peace, die f.ee from strile: 
 For though mine enemy thou hast ever been. 
 High sparks of honor in (hee have I seen. 
 
 Enter Exton, loith Attendants bearing a Coffin. 
 
 Exton. Great king, within this codin I present 
 Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies 
 The mightest of thy greatest enemies, 
 Rich.ard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. 
 
 Baling. Exton, I thank thee not; for tliou hast 
 wrought 
 A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand. 
 Upon my head, and all this famous land. 
 
 Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I 
 this deed. 
 
 Baling. The>love not poison that do poison need. 
 Nor do 1 thee; though 1 did wish him dead, 
 I hate the murderer, love him murdered. 
 The guilt of conscience take thou lor thy labor. 
 But neither my good word, nor princely favor; 
 With Cain go wander through tlie shade of night, 
 
 And never show thy head by day nor light. 
 
 Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, 
 
 That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow^ 
 
 Come, mourn with me (or what I do lament, 
 
 And put on sullen black incoutiiicnt;^ 
 
 I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
 
 To wash this lilood off from my guilty hand; — 
 
 March sadly after: grace my mourniiigs here. 
 
 In weeping alter this untimely bier. [Exeunt, 
 
 2 Immediately 
 
FIRST PART OF 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry the Fourth. 
 Henry, Prince of Wales, ) £.««, *„ *i« i-;,,™. 
 Prince John ^/f tancastcr, \ ^""^ '" "^ ^'"S- 
 Eaki, of Westmoreland, j p„,v„ j, /„ fu. t.-: 
 Sir Walter Blunt, \trie7i(U loine Ki 
 
 Thomas Percy, Earl nf Worcester. 
 Henry Percy, Earl (if Northumberland. 
 Henry Percy, suriiained Hotspur, his Son< 
 Edward Mortimer, Earl of March. 
 Scroop, Archbisltop of York. 
 Archibald, Earl of Douglas. 
 Owen Glendower. 
 Sir Richard Vernon. 
 
 Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 POINS. 
 
 Gadshill. 
 
 Peto. Bardolph. 
 
 Lady Percy, W^e to Hotspur, and 'Sister to Mor- 
 timer. 
 
 Lady Mortimer, Daughter to Glendower, and 
 Wife to Mortimer. 
 
 Mrs. Quickly, Hostess of u Tavern in Eastcheap. 
 
 Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, 
 Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers and Attendants 
 
 SCENE, England. 
 
 ACT! 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Room m the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter 
 Blunt, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
 Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, 
 And breathe -shorl-wintled accents of new broils 
 To be commeiii'cd in strnudsi afar remote. 
 No more the tlursty Kruiiiys" of this soil 
 Sliall daub her lips' witli her ovra children's blood; 
 No more shall trenching war channel her fields. 
 Nor bruise her flowrets %vitli the armed lioofs 
 Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes. 
 Which, — like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
 
 AU of one nature, of one substance bred, 
 
 Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
 
 And furious close of civil butchery, 
 
 Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, 
 
 March all one way; and be no more oppos'd 
 
 Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies: 
 
 The edge of war, like an ill-sheatlied knife. 
 
 No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends. 
 
 As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, 
 
 (Wliose soldier now, inider whose blessed cross 
 
 We are impressed and engaged to fight,) 
 
 Fortlnvith a power of English shall we levy; 
 
 Whose arms were mouhleil in tlif irnmlliei's womb 
 
 To chase these pagniis, in Ibnsi' Imly tii-lils. 
 
 Over whose acres vvalk'd Ihuse blessed leet, 
 
 Whicli, /burteen hundred years ago, were nail'd 
 
 For our advantage, on the bitter cross. 
 
 But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old, 
 
 And bootless 'tis to tell you — we will go; 
 
 Tlierelbre we meet not now:— Then let me hear 
 
 Of yon, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 
 
 What yi -it'^rnight our council did decree 
 
 In (orwaiilmg this dear expedience.' 
 
 West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, 
 And many limits* of the charge set down 
 
 * Stranrts, banks of the sea. 
 
 * Expedition 
 
 S20 
 
 2 The Fury of discord. 
 * Estimates. 
 
 But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came 
 A post from Wales, loaded with heavy news; 
 Whose worst was, — that the noble Mortimer 
 Leading the men of Herefordshire to right 
 Against the irregular and wild Glendower, 
 W^as by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, 
 And a thousand of his people butchered. 
 Upon whosrcle;idrorpsf'tbi'rr w:ls sui'h misuse. 
 Such beasti\, slmnieless transIOrnjiilion, 
 By those \Velsb\vnnieM done, as may not be. 
 Without mucli siianie, re-told or spoken of. 
 K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this 
 
 broil 
 Brake off our business for the Holy Land. 
 West. This match'd with other, did, my gracious 
 
 lord; 
 For more uneven and unwelcome news 
 Came from the north, and thus it did import. 
 On Holy-rood day,' the gallant Hotspur there, 
 Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, 
 That ever valiant and approved Scot, 
 At Holmedon met. 
 
 Where tiic\' did spend a sad and bloody hour; 
 As by diseiiargo of their artillery. 
 And shape of likelihood, the news was told; 
 For he that brongbi them, in the very heat 
 And pride of their ouiitention, did take horse, 
 Uncertain of the issue any way. 
 K. Hen. Here is a dear and true industrious 
 
 friend. 
 Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 
 Stiiiu'd with the variation of each soil 
 Betwixt that Holmcdon and this seat of ours; 
 And he hath broughtus smooth and welcome news. 
 The earl of Douglas is discomfited ; 
 Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty Icnights, 
 Balk'd^ in their own blood, did sir Walter see 
 On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners. Hotspur took 
 Mordake, the earl of Fife, and eldest son 
 To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol, 
 Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
 
 ' September 14. 
 
 Tiled up in a heap 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 321 
 
 And is not this an honorable spoil ? 
 A pillwit prixo? )ia, cousin, is it not? 
 
 fVe^t. In faith. 
 It is a coiKiuost lor b prince to boast of. 
 
 K. Hen. Yea, there thou niali'st mc sad, and 
 mak'st me sin 
 In envy that my lord Northumberland 
 Should be the lethcr of so blost a son: 
 A son, who is the theme of honor's tongue; 
 Amoi^st a grove, the very straijhtest plant; 
 Who -S sweet fortune's minion, Mid her pride: 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
 See riot and dishonor stain the brow 
 Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, 
 That some liight-tripping fairy had exchansed 
 In cradle-clotfies our children where they lay, 
 And call'd mine — Percy, his — Plantagenct! 
 Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
 But let him from my thoughts:— What thint you, 
 
 coz, 
 Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, 
 Which he in this adventure hath surpriz'd, 
 To his own use he keeps: and sends me word, 
 I shall have none but Mordake, earl of File. 
 
 Well. This is liis uncle's teacliing, this is Wor- 
 cester, 
 Malevolent to you in all aspects; 
 Which makes him prune" himself, and bristle up 
 The crest of youth against your dignity. 
 
 K. Hen. But I have sent ibr him to answer this; 
 And, for this cause, a while we must neglect 
 Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
 Cousni, on Wednesday next our council wc 
 Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords: 
 But come yourself with speed to us again; 
 For more is to be said, and to he done, 
 TJian out of anger can be uttered. 
 
 West. I will, my liege. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE ll.—A?iol/ier Rcmn in the Palace. 
 Enter Hexry Prince rf Wales, and Falsmff. 
 
 Fat. Now, Hal, what lime of day is it, lad? 
 
 P. Hen. Thou art so (at-witted, with drinking of 
 old sack, and unbuttoning tliee after supper, and 
 Bleeping upon benches after noon, that thou h.asl 
 forgotten to demand that truly which thou vjouldsl 
 truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with 
 the time of the day? unless hours were cups of 
 Back, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues 
 of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and 
 the blessed sun himself a lair hot wench in (lame- 
 color'd talJeta; I see no reason, why thou shouldst 
 be so superlluous to demand the time of the day. 
 
 Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, H.il: for 
 wc that take purses, go by the moon and seven 
 etars; and not by Phoebus.— he, t/uit wnndering 
 knight SI) fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag. when 
 thou art knig,— as. God save thy grace, (niaiesty, 1 
 should say; for grace thou wilt have none,)^ 
 
 P. Hen. What, none? 
 
 Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as %vill serve 
 to be prologue to an egg and butter. 
 
 P. Hen. Wen,howthcn!comc,roundly,roundly. 
 
 Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art 
 king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, 
 be called thieves of the day's beautv;let us be— 
 Diana's Ibresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions 
 of the moon : And let men say, we be men of good 
 government: being governed, as the sea is, by our 
 noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose 
 countenance wc— steal. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: 
 for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth 
 ebb and (low like the sea; being governed, as the 
 sea IS, by the moon. As. for proof now: A purse 
 of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, 
 and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; 
 got with swearing— lay by;' and spent with cry- 
 ing— bring in:' now, in as low an ebb as the foot of 
 the ladder; and, by and by, in as high a flow as the 
 ridge of the gallows. 
 
 Fal. By tife Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is 
 not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench' 
 
 P. Hen. As the honey of Hvbl.a, my old lad of 
 the castle. And is not a bulf jerldn a most sweet 
 robe of durance?' 
 
 'Trim, as birds clean their feathers. « Stand still. 
 
 •More wine. i The -Iress ofT sherira officers. 
 
 21 
 
 Fol. How now, how now, mad wag ? what, in 
 thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have 
 1 to do with a bulf jerkin ! 
 
 P. Hen. Why. what a pox have I to do with my 
 hostess of the tavern? 
 
 Fat. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning, 
 many a time and olt. 
 P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? 
 Fat. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid 
 all there. 
 
 P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin 
 would stretch; and, where it wouldnot, I have used 
 my credit. 
 
 Fat. Yea, and so used it, that were it not hero 
 apparent that thou art heir apparent, — But, I pr"y- 
 thee, sweet wag. shall there be gallows standing in 
 England when thou art king! and resolution thus 
 Jobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old lather 
 antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, 
 hang a thief. 
 P. Hen. No: thou shall. 
 
 Fat. ShaU it rare ! By the lord I'll be a brave 
 judge. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou judgcst false already; I mean, 
 thou shall have the hanging of the thieves, and so 
 become a rare hangman. 
 
 Fat. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps 
 with my humor, as well as waiting in the court, I 
 can tell you. 
 P. Hen. For obtaining of suits? 
 Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the 
 hangman hath no lean wardrobe. '.Sblood, 1 am as 
 melancholy as a gib= cat, or a lugged bear. 
 P. Pen. Or and old lion; or a lover's lute. 
 Fat. Yea, or the drone of a Liiicolnsliire bag- 
 pipe.3 
 
 P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the mel- 
 ancholy of Moor-ditch? 
 
 Fat. Thou hast the most unsavory similes; and 
 art, indeed, the most comiiarative, rascalliest, — 
 sweet young prince,— But, Hal, I pr'ylhee, trouble 
 me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou 
 and 1 knew where a commodity of good names 
 were to be bought: An old lord of Ihe council ra- 
 ted me the other day in the street about jou, sir; 
 but 1 marked him not: and yet he talked very 
 wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked 
 wisely, and in the street too. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out 
 in the streets, and no man regards it. 
 
 Fat. O thou hast damnable interation:«and art, 
 indeed, able to corruiU a saint. Thou hast done 
 much harm upon me, Hal,— God ibrgive thee Ibr 
 it! Before I Icnew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and 
 now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better 
 that one of the wicked. I must give over this lilc, 
 and 1 will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I 
 am a villain; I'll be damned Ibrncver a king's sou 
 in Christendom. 
 
 P. Hen. Where shall wc take a purse to-morrow. 
 Jack? ' 
 
 Fat. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I 
 do not, call mc villain, and batlic" me. 
 
 P. Hen. I see a good amendment of lilc in thee; 
 from praying, to purse-taking. 
 
 Fnter Poins, al a distance. 
 
 Fat. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal ; 'tis no sin 
 for a man to labor in his vocation. Poins ! — Now 
 shall we know if Gadsliill have set a match. ^ O, if 
 men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell 
 were hot enough Ibr him? This is the most om- 
 nipotent villain, that ever cried. Stand, to a true 
 man. 
 
 P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. 
 
 Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. — What says 
 monsieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-aud 
 Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about 
 thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-friday last, 
 Ibr a cup of Maderia, and a cold capon's leg? 
 
 P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil 
 shall have his bargain ; for he was never yet a 
 breaker of proverbs, he will give the de\il his due. 
 
 Pains. Then art thou damned tor keeping thy 
 word with the devil. 
 
 ' Oit) cat, s\ioii\d be Uti cat, — a Scotch term at this day, 
 for a gelded cat. !> Croak of a frog. 
 
 * Citation of holy tests. ''Treiu me with ignominy. 
 " Made an appointment. 
 
322 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 p. Hen. Else he liad been damned for cozenius 
 the devil. 
 
 Pubis. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morn- 
 ing;, hy four o'clock, early at Gadshill : There are 
 pilsrims goiii^ to Canterbury with rich offerings, 
 and traders riding to London with fat purses: I 
 haver visors for you all, you have horses for your- 
 selves: Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have 
 bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we 
 may do it as secure as sleep: If you will go, I will 
 stuff your purses full of crowns: if you will not, 
 tarry at home, and be hanged. 
 
 Ful. Hear me, Yedwaid; if I tarry at home, and 
 go not, I'll hang you for going. 
 
 Poiihs. You will, chops] 
 
 Fnl. Hal, wilt thou make one? 
 
 P. Hen. Who, 1 rob? I a thief 1 not I, by my 
 faith. 
 
 Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor 
 good-lellowship in thee, nor thou earnest not of the 
 blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shil- 
 lings.' 
 
 P. Hen, Well, then, once in my days I'll be a 
 madcap. 
 
 Fat. Why, that's well said. 
 
 P. Hen. 'Well.couiewhatwill, I'll tarry at home. 
 
 Flit. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor .tlien, when 
 thou art king. 
 
 P. Hen. I care not. 
 
 Pubis. Sir Jolin, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and 
 me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for 
 this adventure, that he shall go. 
 
 Fal. Well, mayst thou have the spirit of persua- 
 , sion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou 
 'speakest may move, and what he hears maybe be- 
 'lievcd, that the true prince may (for recreation' 
 sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the 
 time want countenance. Farewell: You shall find 
 me in Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell 
 All-hallowu summer!* [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 Pubis. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with 
 us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I can- 
 not manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and 
 Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already 
 waylaid; yourself, and I, will not be there: and 
 when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob 
 them, cut this head from my shoulders. 
 
 jP. Hen. Bnt how shall we part with them in 
 setting forth! 
 
 Pubis. Why, we will set forth before or after 
 them, and appoint them a place of meeting, where- 
 in it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they 
 adventure upon the exploit themselves; which they 
 shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon 
 them. 
 
 P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like, that they will Iciiow us, 
 by our horses, by our habits, and by every other 
 appointment, to be ourselves. 
 
 Pobis. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie 
 them in tlie wood; our visors we will change, after 
 we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buck- 
 ram for the nonce,' to inmask our noted outward 
 garments. 
 
 P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for 
 us. 
 
 Pains. Well, for two of them, I know them to be 
 as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for 
 the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll 
 forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the 
 incomprelieusible lies that this same liit rogue will 
 tell us, when wo meet at supper: how thirty, at 
 least, he fought with ; what wards, what blows, 
 what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof 
 of this, lies the jest. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee ; provide us all 
 things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in 
 Eastcheap: there I'll sup. Farewell. 
 
 Pobis. Farewell, my lord. [Ei'i/ Poixs. 
 
 P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold 
 The unyok'd humor of your idleness: 
 Yet heroin will I imitate the sun; 
 Who doth 'permit the base contagious clouds 
 To smother up his beauty from the world, 
 That, when he please again to be himself. 
 Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
 
 ' The value of a. coin cilleil real or rmjal. 
 *Flne weiither !it AUIiiilio\\-ntKle, (i.e. All-Saints, 
 Nov. l3t,) 13 called an Allliallown aunimer. ^ Occasion. 
 
 By breaking tlirough the foul and ugly mists 
 
 Of vapors, that did seem to strangle him. 
 
 If all the year were playing holidays. 
 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work; 
 
 But when they seldom come, they wish'd-forcome, 
 
 And nothing pleaseth hut rare accidents: 
 
 So, when this lonse Ijeliaviour I throw off. 
 
 And pay the debt 1 never promised. 
 
 By how much better than my word I am, 
 
 By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; 
 
 And, like bright metal on a sullen ground. 
 
 My relbrination, glittering o'er my fault. 
 
 Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
 
 Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
 
 I'll so oliend, to make otlt'iiee a skill; 
 
 Redeeming time, when men think least I will. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE \l\.— Another Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Hexky, NoRTntnicERLAND, Worcester, 
 Hotspur, Sir Walter Blu.st, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and tem- 
 perate. 
 Unapt to stir at these indignities. 
 And you have found me; tor, accordingly. 
 You tread upon my patience; but, be sure, 
 I will from hencelbrth rather be myself, 
 IMighty, and to be lear'd, than my condition;^ 
 Which hath been smooth asoil,softas young down. 
 And therefore lost that title of respect, 
 Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. 
 War. Our house, my sovereign liege, little de- 
 serves 
 The scourge of greatness to be used on it; 
 And that same greatness too which our own hands 
 Have holp to make so poitly. 
 
 • M>rth. My lord, 
 
 K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger 
 And disobedience in thine eye; O, sir. 
 Your presence is too bold and peremptory: 
 And majesty might never yet endure 
 The moody frontier of a servant brow. 
 You have good leave to leave us; when we need 
 Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.— 
 
 [ExU Worcester. 
 You were about to speak. [To North. 
 
 North. Yea, my good lord. 
 
 Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded. 
 Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took. 
 Were, as he says, not with such strength deiried 
 As is deliver'd to your majesty: 
 Either envy, therefore, or misprision. 
 Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. 
 
 ilut. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
 But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
 Wlien 1 was tiry with rage, and extreme toil. 
 Breathless and I'aint, leaning upon my sword. 
 Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd. 
 Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd, 
 Show'd like a stubbie-lield at harvest-home; 
 He was perfumed like a milliner; 
 .\nd 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
 A pouncct-boXj^* which ever ami anfln 
 He gave his nose, and took't away .again;— 
 Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, 
 Took it in snulf: — and still he smiled and talk'd ; 
 .\nd, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
 He cali'd them— untaught knaves, unmannerly. 
 To bring a slovenly nnhandsome corse 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 With many a holiday and lady terms 
 He question'd me; among the rest demanded 
 .My prisoners, in your majesly's behalf. 
 1 tlien, all smarting, with my wounds being cold. 
 To be so pester'd with a popiuiay. 
 Out of my grief and my imiiatience, 
 .\nswer'd negleetingiy, 1 know not what; 
 He should, or he should not; — (or he made me mad, 
 To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
 .\nd talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman. 
 Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 
 
 mark ! ) 
 .\nd telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
 Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise; 
 And that it was great pity, so it was, 
 That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
 
 • Disposition . 3 A small box for musi; or other perfumei. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 323 
 
 Which many a good lall^ fellow had destroyed 
 So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns, 
 He would himself have been a soldier. 
 This bald unjoiiited chat of his, my lord, 
 I answer'd indirectly, as I said; 
 And, I beseech you, let not this report 
 Come current for an accusation. 
 Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 
 
 Blunt. Ttie "circumstance considerM good, my 
 lord. 
 Whatever Harry Percy then Iiad said. 
 To such a person, and in such a place. 
 At such a time, with all the rest re-told, 
 May reasonably die, and never rise 
 To do hini wrong, or any way impeach 
 What then he sa«, so he unsay it now. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, yet ho doth deny his prisoners; 
 But witJi proviso, and exception, — 
 That we, at our owm charge, shall random straight 
 His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; 
 Who, on my soul, hatli willfully betray'd 
 The lives of those that he did lead to tight 
 Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower; 
 Wliose daughter, as we hoar, the earl of March 
 Hath lately married. Shall our colliers then 
 Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home? 
 Shall we buy treason? and iudcnt* with fears. 
 When they have lost and I'orlc'ited themselves? 
 No, on the barren mountains let him starve; 
 For 1 shall never hold that man my friend. 
 Whose tongue shall ask me lor one penny cost 
 To ransom liomc revolted IMortimer. 
 
 Hot. Revolted JMortimer! 
 He never did fall olf, mj" sovereign liege. 
 But by the chance of war; — To prove that true. 
 Needs no more but one tongue for all those 
 
 wounds, 
 Those mouthed wounds, wliich valiantly he took, 
 When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank. 
 In single opposition, hand to hand. 
 He did coniound the best part of an hour 
 In changing hardiment with great Glendower: 
 Three times they breath'd, and three times did they 
 
 drink, 
 I'pon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; 
 Wiio then, atliiglited with their bloody looks, 
 Kau fearlully among the trembling reeds. 
 And hid his cvisji' head in the hollow bank 
 Blood-stained wilh these valiant combatants. 
 Never did bare and rotten policy 
 Color her working with such deadly wounds; 
 Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
 Receive so many, and all willingly: 
 Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 
 
 A'. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost 
 belie him; 
 He never did encounter with Glendower; 
 1 tell thee. 
 
 He durst as well have met the devil alone, 
 As Owen (tlendower for an enemy. 
 Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth 
 Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer: 
 Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, 
 Or you sliall hear in such a kind from me 
 As will displease you.— My lord Northumberland, 
 We license your departure with,.j-our son :— 
 Send us jou prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 
 
 f-nunt King Hexky, Blcxt, and Train. 
 
 Hot, Ana .r liie devil come and roar tor them, 
 I will not send them :— I will after straight, 
 And tell him so: for I will ease my heart, 
 Althougii it be with hazard of my head. 
 
 Aw'M. What, drunk with cholor? sta}-, and pause 
 awile; 
 Here comes your uncle. 
 
 Re-enter Worcester. 
 
 Hot. Speak of Mortimer? 
 
 Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
 Want mercy, if I do not join with him: 
 Vea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, 
 And shed my dear blood drop liy drop i' the dust. 
 But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
 As high i' the air as this unthankful king, 
 As this ingrate and canker'd Itolingbroke. 
 
 North.. Brother, the king hath made your nephew 
 
 _ mad. [To Worcester. 
 
 Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone ? 
 
 •Brave. 
 
 *Sign an indenture. 
 
 'Curled. 
 
 Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; 
 And when I urged the ransom once again 
 Of my wite's brother, then his cheek iook'd pale; 
 And on x\\y face he tnrn'd an eye of death. 
 Trembling ever at the name of Mortimer. 
 
 iVur. 1 cannot blame him: Was he not pro- 
 claim'd. 
 By Richard that dead is, the next of blood? 
 
 North.. He was; I heard the proclamation: 
 And then it was, when the unhappy* king 
 (Wliose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth 
 Upon his Irish expedition; 
 From whence he, intercepted, did return 
 To be depos'd, and shortly, murder'd. 
 
 Wor. And lor whose death, we in the world's 
 W'ide mouth 
 Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of. 
 
 Hot. But, soft, I pray you; Did king Richard then 
 Proclaim my brother Kdinund Mortimer 
 Heir to the crown? 
 
 North. He did; myself did hear it. 
 
 Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king. 
 That wished him on the barren mountains starv'd. 
 But shall it be, that you, — that set the crown 
 Upon the head of this Ibrgetful man; 
 And, for his sake, wear the detested blot 
 Of murd'rous subornation, — shall it be. 
 That you a world of curses undergo; 
 Being the agents, or base second means. 
 The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? — 
 O, pardon me, that I descend so low. 
 To show the line, and the predicament. 
 Wherein joii range under this subtle king. — 
 Shall it, lor shame, be spoken in these days. 
 Or till up ciironicles in time to come. 
 That men of your nobility and power. 
 Did gage them both in an unjust behalf, — 
 As both of you, God pardon it! have done, — 
 To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose. 
 And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke ? 
 And shall it in more shame, be further spoken, 
 That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook oil' 
 By him, for whom these shames ye underwent? 
 No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem 
 Your banish'd lionor.s, and restore yourselves 
 Into the good thoughts of tJie world again: 
 Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt, 
 Of this proud king; wlio studies day and night, 
 To answer all thedebts he owes to you. 
 Even with the bloody payment of your deaths. 
 Theretbre, I .say, 
 
 IVor. Peace, cousin, say no more : 
 
 And now I will unclasp a secret book. 
 And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
 I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; 
 As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit. 
 As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud. 
 On the unsteadlast tooting of a spear. 
 
 Hot. If he fall in, good night: — or sink, or swim: 
 Send danger Irom the east unto the west. 
 So honor cross it trom the north to south. 
 And let tliem grapple ;— O ! the blood more stirs. 
 To rouse a lion, than to start a hare. 
 
 North. Imagination of some great exploit 
 Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 
 
 Hot. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap. 
 To pluck bright honor Irom the pale-faced moon ; 
 Or dive into the bottom of the deep. 
 Where fathom-line could never touch, the ground, 
 .\nd pluck up drowned honor by the locks; 
 So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear, 
 Without corrival, all her dignities: 
 But out upon this half-faced fellowship! 
 
 U'or. He apprehends a world of figures here. 
 But not tlie lonn of what he .should attend.— 
 Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 
 
 Hot. I cry you hiercy. 
 
 [For. Those same noble Scots, 
 That are your prisoners, 
 
 Hot. I'll keep them all ; 
 
 By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them : 
 No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: 
 I'll keep them, by this hand. 
 
 I For. You start away, 
 
 And lend no ear unto my purposes. — 
 These prisoners you shall keep. 
 
 Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:— 
 
 He said, he would not ransom Mortimer; 
 Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer; 
 But I will lind him when he lies asleep. 
 
32^1 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act n. 
 
 And in liis ear I'll holla— ilortimer ! 
 
 Nay, 
 
 I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
 
 Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, 
 
 To keep his anger still ill motion. 
 
 IVw. Hear you. 
 
 Cousin; a word. 
 
 Hot. All studies here I (solemnly defy. 
 Save how to g»ll and pineh this liolingbrolce : 
 And that same sword-and-hucklerprinccof Wales,— 
 Kut that I think his father loves liim not, 
 And would be glad ho met with some mischance, 
 I'd liave him poison'd with a pot of ale. 
 
 IVor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talli to you, 
 When vou are better temper'd to attend. 
 
 Nurth. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient 
 fool 
 Art thou to break into this woman's mood; 
 Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! 
 
 'Bui. VVIiy, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged 
 with rods. 
 Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear 
 Of this vile politician. Bohngbroke. 
 In Richard's time,- What do you call the place?— 
 A plague upon't !— it is in Glostershire;— 
 'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept; 
 His uncle York; — where I first bow'd my knee 
 Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke, 
 When you and he came back from Ravenspurg. 
 
 Nnrlh. At Berkley castle. 
 
 Hoi. You say true : 
 
 Why, what a candy deal of courtesy 
 This lawning greyiiound then did proffer me! 
 LooV,— when his infuni fortune came to age. 
 And,— gentle HaiTij Perai.—anA, kind cmtsin,— 
 
 O, the devil take such cozeners! God forgive 
 
 me! 
 
 Good uncle, tell your tale, for I haA'e done. 
 
 IVor. Nay, if you have not, to't again; 
 We'll stay your'leisure. 
 
 Hut. I have done, i'faith. 
 
 Jl^or. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. 
 Deliver them up without their ransom straight. 
 And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
 For powers in Scotland ; which,— for divers reasons, 
 
 Which I shall send you WTitten, — be assur'd, 
 Will easily be granted.— You my lord,— 
 
 [To NOKTIII-MBEIILASD 
 
 Your son in Scotland being thus cmploy'd, — 
 Shall secretly into Ihe bosom creep 
 Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd, 
 The archbishop. 
 
 Hot. Of York, is'tnot? 
 
 Wur. True ; who bears liard 
 His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop. 
 I speak not this in estimation. 
 As what I think might be, but what I know 
 Is ruminated, plotted, and set down; 
 And only stays but to behold the face 
 Of that occasion that shall bring it on. 
 
 Hot. I smell it; upon my life, U will do well. 
 
 North. Before the game's afoot, thou still let'st 
 slip. 
 
 Hut. Why, it cannot clioose but be a noble plot:— 
 And then the power of Scotland, and of York— 
 To join with Mortimer, hal 
 
 ^Vor. And so they shall. 
 
 Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 
 
 fVor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, 
 To save our heads by raising of a head:' 
 For, bear ourselves as even as we can. 
 The king will always think him in our debt; 
 And think we thin£ ourselves unsatisfied. 
 Till he had found a time to pay us home. 
 And see already, how he doth begin 
 To make us strangers to his looks of love. 
 
 Hut. He does, he does: we'll be revenged on hiin. 
 
 IFor. Cousin, farewell :— No further go in this, 
 Than I by letters shall direct your course. 
 When time is ripe, (which will be suddenly,) 
 I'll steal to Glcndowcrand lord Mortimer; 
 Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once, 
 (As I will fiishion it,) shall hnppily meet, 
 To bear our ibrtunes in our own strong arms, 
 Which now we hold at much uncertainty. 
 
 Nurth. Farewell, good brother : we shall thrive, 
 I trust. 
 
 Hot. Uncle, adieu :— O. let the hours be short, 
 Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our 
 sport ! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— Rochester. An Inn Yard. 
 Enter a Carrier, vjith a Lantern in his hand. 
 
 1 Car. Heigh ho! An't be not four by the day, 
 I'll, be hanged; Charles' wain is over the new chim- 
 ney, and yet our horse not packed. What, ostler! 
 
 Ust. [PTOAm.l Anon. anon. 
 
 1 Car. I pr'yttiee, Tom, beat Cut's' saddle, put 
 a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung 
 in the withers out of all cess.' 
 
 Enter anollier Carrier. 
 
 2 Car. Pease and beans are as danl; here as a dog, 
 and that is the next way to give poor jades the 
 bots: tJiis house is turned upside down, since Robin 
 ostler died. 
 
 t Car. Poor fellow! never joyed since the price 
 of oats rose; it was the death of him. 
 
 2 Car. I think this be the most villanous house 
 in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench.* 
 
 1 Car Like a tench? by the mass, there is ne'er 
 a king m Christendom could be better bit than I 
 have been since the first cock. - 
 
 2 Cait Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, 
 and then we leak in your chimney ; and your cham- 
 ber-lie breeds fleas like a loach.' 
 
 1 Car. What, ostler! come away and be hanged, 
 come away. 
 
 2 Car. 1 li.ave a gammon of bacon, and two razes 
 of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charingeross. 
 
 1 Car. 'Odsbody! the turkeys in my pannier are 
 quite starved. — What, ostler! — A plague on thee! 
 hast thou never an eye in thy head ; canst not hear? 
 
 • Name of his horse. 
 
 ^ Spotted like a tench. 
 
 8 A small flah supposed to Itreeii fleas. 
 
 ' Measure. 
 
 .\n 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the 
 pate of thee, I am a very villain.— Come, and be 
 lianged:— Hast no faith in thee? 
 Enter G.VDsnai.. 
 
 Gads. Good-morrow, carriers. What's o'clock ? 
 
 1 Car. 1 think it be two o'clock. 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my 
 gelding in the stable. 
 
 1 Car. Nay, soil, I pray ye ; I know a trick worth 
 two of that. 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee lend me thine. 
 
 3. Car. Ay, when? canst tell?— Lend me thy 
 lantern quoth a?^-inarry, I'll see thee hanged first. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah carrier, wliat time do you inean to 
 come to London ? 
 
 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed witli a candle, 
 I warrant thee. — Come, neighbor Mugs, we'll call 
 up the gentlemen; they will along with Ihe com- 
 pany, for they have great cliarge. [Exeunt Carriers. 
 
 Gads. What, ho! chamberlain! 
 
 Cham. [IVilhin.] At hand, quoth pick purse.* 
 
 Gads. That's even as feir as — at hand, quoth the 
 cliamberlain : for thou variesl no more from pick- 
 ing of purses, than giving direction doth from la- 
 boring; thou lay'st the plot how. 
 Enter Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good-morrow, master Gadshill. It holds 
 current that I told yon yesternight: There's a 
 franklin = in the wild of Kent, hath brought three 
 hundred marks with him in gold: 1 heard him tell 
 it to one of his company, last night at supper; a 
 kind of auditor; one that hath abundance of charge 
 
 1 A Itody of forces. 
 
 3 A pi'ovorl>, from the pick-purse being alwayi ready 
 3 Freeholder. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KK G HENEY IV. 
 
 325 
 
 too, God knows what. They are up already, and 
 call for egssand butter: They will away presently. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint Nicho- 
 las' clerks,' I'll give thee this neck. 
 
 Cham. No, I'll none of it: I pr'ythee, keep that 
 for the hangman; for I know thou worsliip'st saint 
 Nicholas as" truly as a man of falsehood may. 
 
 Gads. Why talkcst thou to me of the hangman? 
 if I hanp, I'll make a fit pair of gallows: for, if I 
 han2:,olasir JolinhaniTswithme; antl thouknowest 
 he's'no starveling. Tut: there are other Trojans 
 that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport 
 'sake are content to do the profession some grace; 
 that would, if matters should be looked into, for 
 their own credit 'sake, make all whole. lam joined 
 with no foot land-rakers,^ no long-staff, sixpeimy 
 strikers; none of these mad, mustachio, purple- 
 hued malt worms; but with nobility, and tran- 
 quility; burgo-masters, and great oneyers;«suchas 
 can hold in; such as will strike sooner than speak, 
 and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner tlian 
 pray: And yet I lie; for they pray continually to 
 their saint, the commonwealth; or, rather, not ]iray 
 to her, but prey on her; for they ride up and down 
 on her, and make her their boots.' 
 
 Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? 
 will she hold out water in foul way ! 
 
 Gads. She will, she will; justice hath liquored 
 lier.^ We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we have 
 the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible. 
 
 Cham. Nay, by my faitii ! I think you are more 
 beholden to the night than to leni-s'ecd, for your 
 walking invisible. 
 
 Gads. Give me Ihy hand: thou shalt havea sliare 
 in our purchase, as I am a true man. 
 
 Cham. Nay, rather let mc have it, as you arc a 
 false thief. 
 
 Gads. Go to; Homo is a common name to all 
 men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the 
 stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— TAe Road by Gadshill. 
 
 Enter Phince Hexry, and Poins; Babdolph and 
 Peto, at some distance. 
 
 Poins. Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed 
 FalstaQ's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. 
 P. Hen. Stand close. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fa!. Poins! Poins! and he hanged! Poins! 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal ; what a 
 brawling dost thou kcej)! 
 
 Fat. Where's Poiiis, Hal ? 
 
 P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill ; 
 I'll go seek hira. [Pre/ends to seek Poiss. 
 
 Fat. I am accursed to rob in that thief's com- 
 
 Eany: the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied 
 im I loiow not where. If I travel but four foot by 
 the squire" further afoot, I shall break my wind. 
 Well, I doubt not but to die a lair death for all 
 this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. 1 
 have forsworn his company hourly any time these 
 two-and-twenty years, and' yet I am bewitch'd wnth 
 the rogue's company. If the rascal have notgivenme 
 medicines to make me love hun, I'll he hanged; it 
 could not be else ; I have drunk medicines.— Poins! 
 —Hal!— a plague upon you both!— liardolph!— 
 Peto !— I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An 
 'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man, 
 and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that 
 ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven 
 ground is threescore and temniles afoot with me; 
 and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough: 
 A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true to 
 one another! [They whistle.] Whew!— A plague 
 upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues; give 
 me my horse, and be hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, ye lat-guts! lie dowTi; lay thine 
 ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear 
 the tread of travellers. 
 
 Fat. Have you any levers to lift me up again, 
 being down ! 'Sblood. Til not bear mine own flesh 
 so far afoot again, Ibr all the coin in thy father's ex- 
 chequer. What a plague mean ye tocolt'nie thus! 
 
 *Cant term for highwaymen. 
 *Puti!ic accountants, 
 foiled, smoothed her over. 
 * ilake a youngster of me. 
 
 fi Footpads. 
 
 ' Booty. 
 
 ^ Square, rule. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art 
 uncoiled. 
 
 Fat. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my 
 horse; good king's son. 
 
 P. Hen. Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler! 
 • Fat. Go, hang' thyself in thy own heir-apparent 
 garters! If 1 be ta'ei'i, I'll peach for this. An I hav^ 
 not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy 
 tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison: When a 
 jest is so forward, and afoot loo — I hate it. 
 Enter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Stand. 
 
 Fat. So I do, against my will. 
 
 Poins. 0, 'tis our setter: I know Iiis voice. 
 Enter Bakdolfh. 
 
 Bard. What news 1 
 
 Gads. Case ye, case ye: on with your visors: 
 there's money of the king's coming down the hill; 
 'tis going to the king's exchequer. 
 
 Fat. You lie, you rogue; 'tis going to the king's 
 tavern. 
 
 Gads. There's enough to make us all — 
 
 Fat. To be hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. .Sirs, you four sh.all front them in the 
 narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower; if 
 they 'scape from your encounter, then they light 
 on us. 
 
 Peto, How many bo there of them? 
 
 Gads. Some eight, »r ten. 
 
 Fat. Zounds ! will Ihey not rob us? 
 
 P. Hen. What, a coward, sir John Paunch? 
 
 Fat. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grand- 
 father: but yet no coward, Hal. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. 
 
 Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the 
 hedge; when thou nced'st him, there thou shalt 
 find him. Farewell, and stand fast. 
 
 Fat. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be 
 hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises? 
 
 Pvins. Here, hard by; stand close. 
 
 [Exeunt P. Hexry and PoiNS. 
 
 Fat. Now, my masters, liappy man be his dole, 
 say I; every man to his business. 
 Enter Travellers. 
 
 1 Trav. Come neighbor; the boy shall lead our- 
 horses dovm the hill: we'll walk afoot awhile, and 
 ease our legs. 
 
 Tliieves. Stand. 
 
 Trav. Jesu bless us ! 
 
 Fat. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' 
 throats: Ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed 
 knaves! they hate us youth: down with them: 
 lleece them. 
 
 1 Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours, for 
 ever. 
 
 Fat. Hang ye, gorbellied- knaves; Arc ye un- 
 done? No, ye fat chulis;^ I would, your store were 
 here! On, bacons, on! What, ye Knaves! young 
 menmust live; You are grand jurors, are ye? We'll 
 jure ye, i'faith. 
 
 [Exeunt Fal. <!^c. drii<ing the Travellers out. 
 
 Re-enter Pkinte Henry atid Poiss. 
 P. Hen. The thieves liave bound the true men: 
 Now, could thou and I rob the thieves, and go 
 merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, 
 laught'er for a month, and a good jest for ever. 
 Poins. Stand close, I hear them coming. 
 
 Re-enter Thieves. 
 Fal. Come my masters, let us share, and then to 
 horse before day. An the prince and Poins be not 
 two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: 
 there's no more valor in that Poins than ill a wild 
 duck. 
 P. Hen. Your money! [Rushing out upon them. 
 Poins. Villains. 
 
 [-■Is thei/ are sharing, the Prince and Poms 
 set upon thfjn. Falstaff, after a blmu or 
 two. and thi: rest, run away, leaving their 
 lioidy tifhiiid them. 
 P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to 
 horse : 
 The thieves are scattered, and possess'd with fear 
 So strongly that they dare not meet each other; 
 Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
 
 2 Fat, corpulent. 
 
 •Clowns. 
 
326 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Away, good Ned. Falstaft' sweats to death, 
 And lards tlie lean eaith as he walks along: 
 VVeve't not lor laughinL,', I should pity him. 
 Poiiis. How the rogue roarM! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Warkworth. A Room in ike Castle. 
 Enter Hotspur, reading a Letter. 
 
 But fur mine own part, my lord, I could be 
 
 imlt contented to be there, in resi>ect of t/ie Inoe I 
 bear your house.— He could be' contented,— Why is 
 lie not then] In respect of tlie love he hears our 
 house — he shows in this, lie loves his own barn 
 hetter than he loves our house. Let me see some 
 more. The purpose you umkrtalce is dangerous ,~ 
 Why, that's certain; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, 
 to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my lord fool, out 
 of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 
 The jxirjMse you ttndertui.e is dangerous; the 
 fric?ids you have nan/cd, uncertain ,- the time it- 
 self unsorted; and your whole jdot too liKht.forthe 
 counterpoise ofsogreut an opjiosition.—iiay you so, 
 say you so ! I say unto you again you are a shal- 
 low, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain 
 is this T By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever 
 was laid ; our friends true and constant : a good plot, 
 good friends, and full of expectation: an excellent 
 plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited 
 rogue is this"! Why, my lord of York commends 
 the plot, and the general course of the action. 
 Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain 
 him with his lady's Ian. Is there not my father, 
 my uncle, and myself! lord Edmund Mortimer, 
 my lord of York, and Owen Glendovver? Is there 
 not, besides, the Douglas 1 Have I not all their let- 
 ters, to meet me in arms hy the ninth of the next 
 months and are tliey not, some of them, set for- 
 ward already ! What a pagan rascal is this? an 
 infidel 1 Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity 
 of fear and cold heart, wiU he to the king, and lay 
 open all our proceedings. O, I could divide my- 
 self, and go to bulfets, for moving such a dish of 
 skimmed milk with so honorable an action! Hang 
 him! let him tell the king: We are prepared: I 
 will set forward to-night. 
 
 Enter Lady Pekcy. 
 Hownow, Katel I must leave you within these two 
 hours. 
 
 Lady. O my good lord, wliy arc you thus alonel 
 For wliat otlence have I, this Ibrtnight, been 
 A banish'd woman from my Harry's bcdl 
 Tell me, sweet lord, what Is't that takes from thee 
 Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep! 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
 And start so oilen when thou sitt'st alone! 
 Why hast thou lost tlie fresli blood in thy cheeks; 
 And given my treasures, and my rights oi' thee, 
 To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy ! 
 In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd. 
 And lieard thee murmur tales of iron wars: 
 Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; 
 Cry, Courage.'— to the field.' And thou hast talk'd 
 Of sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents, 
 Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets; 
 Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin; 
 Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, 
 And all the 'currents of a heady light. 
 Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war. 
 And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep. 
 That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
 Like bubbles in a late disturbed .stream: 
 And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
 Sucli as we see when men restrain their breath 
 On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are 
 
 there ! 
 Some heavy business liath my lord in hand, 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 
 Hot. What, ho ! is (iilliams with tlio packet gone ! 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. 
 
 Hot. Hath Butler brought tliose horses from the 
 sheriff? 
 
 Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. 
 
 Hut. What horse ! a roan, a crop-ear, is it not ! 
 
 Serv. It is, my lord. 
 
 Hot. That roan shall be mj' throne. 
 
 Well, I will back him straight: O esperance ." — 
 'Jid Butler lead him Ibrth into the park. [Ex. Serv. 
 * Jlotto of the Percy family. 
 
 Lady. But hear you, my lord. 
 
 }{ut. What say 'st, my lady 1 
 
 Lady. What is it carries you away ? 
 
 Hot. My horse. 
 
 My love, my horse. 
 
 Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! 
 A weasel hath not sucli a deal of spleen, 
 As you are toss'd with. In iiiith, 
 I'll know your business, Vlarry, that I will. 
 I iear, my brother Mortimer doth stir 
 About his title; and hath sent tor you, 
 To line'' his enlerprize: But if you go 
 
 Hut. So far afoot, I sliall be weary, love. 
 
 Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me 
 Directly to this ijuestion that I ask. 
 In faith, I'll break thy little hnger, Harrj', 
 An if tliou wilt not tell me all tilings true. 
 
 Hot. Away, 
 Away, you triller!— Love!— I love thee not, 
 I care not for tliee, Kate: this is no world 
 To play with mammets,« and to tilt with lips: 
 
 We must have bloody noses, and craek'd crowns, 
 1 pass them current too. — tiods me, my horse ! — 
 
 And I 
 
 What say'st thou, Kate! what wouldst thou have 
 with me! 
 
 Lady. Do you not love me! do you not, indeed! 
 Well, do not then; for, since you love me not, 
 I will not love myself. Do you not love me! 
 Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest or no. 
 
 Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride! 
 And when I am o'horsebaek, I will swear 
 1 love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; 
 I must not have you hencetorth question me 
 Whither I go, nor reason whereabout: 
 Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude. 
 This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
 I know you wise ; but yet no further wise, 
 Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are; 
 But yet a w-oinan": and for secrecy, 
 No lady closer; for I well believe. 
 Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; 
 And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate! 
 
 Ladii. How ! so far ! 
 
 H«/.'Notan inch further. But hark you, Kate! 
 Whither I go, thilher shall you go too; 
 To-day will I set IbrtJi, to-morrow you.— 
 Will this content you, Kate! 
 
 Lady. It must, of force. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Eastclieap. A Room in the Boar's 
 
 Head Tavern. 
 
 Enter Prince Henkt and PoiNS. 
 
 P. Hen. Ned.pr'ythee, come outof that fat room, 
 and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. 
 
 Poins. Where hast been, Hal! 
 
 P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst 
 three or four score iiogsheads. I have sounded the 
 very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn 
 bro'thertoa leash of drawers; and can call them 
 all by their Christian names, as— Tom, Dick, and 
 Francis. They take it already upon their salva- 
 tion, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I 
 am the king of courtesy, and tell me flatly I am no 
 jn-oud Jack, like KalstaO'; but a Corinthian,' a lad 
 of mettle, a good boy,— by the Lord, so they call 
 me; and wlien I am king of England, I shall com- 
 mand all the good lads in Eastclieap. They call- 
 drinking dee|>, dying scarlet: andwhen you breathe 
 in your wakiiiig, lliev cry— hem! and bid you play 
 it oir.— To conclude, 1 aih so good a proticient in 
 one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any 
 tinker in his own language during my life. I tell 
 thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou 
 wert notwitJi me in this action. But, sweet Ned,— 
 to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pen- 
 nyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand by 
 an under-skinker;» one that never spake other Eng- 
 lish in his life, than—Eigld sUUlings and sixpence, 
 and— You are welcome; with this shrill addition,— 
 -4)10/1., anoji, sir.' Score a pint of l/astard in the 
 Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time 
 till "Falstaircome, Ipr'ythee,do thou stand in some 
 by-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what 
 end he gave mo the sugar; and do thou never leave 
 calling— Francis, that Ills tale to me may bo nothing 
 but— anon.— Step aside, and I'll show thoe a pre- 
 cedent. 
 
 Poins. Francis! 
 
 ' Strengthen. " Puppets. ' A weocher. " Tapster. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HEKKY IV. 
 
 3S7 
 
 p. Hen. Thou art pcrrect. 
 
 Poins. Francis ! iExit PoiNS. 
 
 Enter FitAXCis. 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon^ sir. — Look down into the 
 Pomegranate, Ralpli. 
 
 P. lien. Come hillicr, Francis. 
 
 Fran. My lord. 
 
 P. Hen. How long hast tliou to serve, Francis? 
 
 Fran. Forsooth, live year, and as much as to — 
 
 Poins. [Within.] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Five years! by"r lady, a long lease for 
 the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou 
 be so valiaiit, as to play the coward with thy in- 
 denture, and to show it a fair pair of heels, and ruii 
 from it ! 
 
 Fran. 01ord,sir! I'll he sworn upon all the books 
 in England, I coiild find it in my heart — 
 
 Pains. [IVit/tin.] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? 
 
 Fran. Let mc see,— About Michaelmas next I 
 shall be — 
 
 Puins. [Wit/iin.] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, sir. — Pray you, stay a little, my 
 lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis: For the 
 sugar thou gavest me,— 'twas a pcmiyworth, wasH 
 not? 
 
 Fran. lord, sir? I would it had been two. 
 
 P. Hen. I will give thee lor it a thousand pound: 
 ask me wlien thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. 
 
 Poins. [Within.] Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon. 
 
 P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but to- 
 morrow, Francis; or Francis, on Thursday; or, in- 
 deed, Francis, wlicn thou wilt. But, Francis, — 
 
 Fran. My lord! 
 
 P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this Icathcrn-jerkin, crys- 
 tal-button, nott-paled, agitt*.'-ring, puke-stocking, 
 caddis-garter, smootli-longue, Sjianisii-pouch, — 
 
 Fran. lord, sir, who do you mean? 
 
 P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard" is your 
 oidy drink: for, look you. Francis, your white can- 
 vas doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir, it camiot 
 come to so much. 
 
 Fran. What sir? 
 
 Poins. [Within.] Francis! 
 
 P. Hen. Awaj', you rogue; Dost thou not hear 
 them call? 
 
 [Here they bnlh call him ; the Drawer stands 
 uiuazeil, nut knowing which way to go. 
 
 Enter Vintner. 
 
 Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such 
 a calline: ! Look to the guests within. [Exit Fran.] 
 Jly lord, old Sir John, with half a dozen more, are 
 at'the door; Shall 1 let them in! 
 
 P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open 
 the door. [£.i'i/ Vintner.] Poins! 
 
 Re-enter Poixs. 
 
 Poins. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirah, Falstatf and the rest of the thieves 
 are at the door: Shall we be merry ! 
 
 Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark 
 ye; What cunning match have you made with this 
 lest of the drawer ! come, what's the issue? 
 
 P. Hen. I am now of all humors, that have 
 show'd themselves humors, since the old days ol 
 goodman Adam, to Ihe pui>il age ol' this present 
 twelve o'clock at midnight. [He-enter Francis, 
 U'it\ ivine.] What's o'clock, Francis? 
 
 F-an. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer 
 words than aparrot, and yet tlie son of a woman! — 
 His industry is — up stairs, and down stairs; his elo- 
 quence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet 
 of Percy's mmd,the Hotspur of the north; he that 
 kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a 
 breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, — 
 Fye ujmn this quiet life.' I want ivurk. — O my 
 siueet Harry., says she, hinc many tmst thou killed 
 to-day:^ Glee my man liorse a drench, says he; 
 and answers, sunie fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, 
 a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstafi'; I'll play Percy, 
 and that damned brawn shall play dame Mortimer 
 
 •A sweet wine. 
 
 his wife. Riru, says the drunkard. Call iii ribs, call 
 in tallow. 
 
 Enter Falstafp, Gadshill, Baedolph, and Peto. 
 
 .Poins. Welcome Jack. Where hast thou been? 
 
 Fal. A plague of all cowards, 1 say, and a ven- 
 geance loo! marry, and amen! — Give mc a cup of 
 sack, boy. — Ere I lead this lite long, I'll sew nether- 
 stocks,' and mend them, and loot them too. A 
 plague of all cowards!— Give me a cup of sack, 
 rogue. — Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks. 
 
 P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish 
 of butter ! pitilul-hearted Titan, that melted at the 
 sweet tale of the sun! if thou didst, then behold 
 that compound. 
 
 Fal. You rogue, here's lime in the sack too : There 
 is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man: 
 Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime 
 in it; a villanous coward. — Go thy ways, old Jack; 
 die when thou wilt: if manhood, good manhood, 
 be not forgotten upon the lace of the earth, then am 
 I a shotten herring. There live not three good men 
 unhanged in England; and one of them is liit, and 
 grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say! 
 1 would, I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or 
 any thing: A plague of all cowards, I say slill. 
 
 P. Hen. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you? 
 
 Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of 
 thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all 
 tiiy subjects albre tliee ifke a Hock of wild geese, 
 I'll never wear hair on my ibice more. You prince 
 of Wales! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man ! what's 
 the matter! 
 
 Fal. Are you not a coward ? answer me to that ; 
 and Poins there? 
 
 Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call mc 
 coward, I'll stab thee. 
 
 Fal. 1 call thee coward! I'll see thee damn'd ere 
 I call thee coward: but I will give a thousand 
 pound 1 could run as liist as thou canst. You are 
 straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who 
 sees your back: Call you that backing of your 
 friends? A plague upon such backing! give mc 
 them that will face me.— Give me a cup of sack:— 
 I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.- 
 
 P. Hen. () villain! thy hps are scarce wiped since 
 thou drunk'st last. 
 
 Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, 
 still say I. [He brinks. 
 
 P. Hen. What's the matter? 
 
 Fal. What's the matter ! there be four of us here 
 have ta'cii a thousand pound this morning. 
 
 P. Hen. Where is it Jack ! where is it ? 
 
 Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is: a hundred 
 upon ])Oor four of us. 
 
 P. Hen. What, a hundred, man? 
 
 Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword 
 with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 
 'scaped by miracle. 1 ani eight times thrust through 
 the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler 
 cut through and through ; my sword hack'd like a 
 hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I 
 was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cow- 
 ards! — Let them speak: if they speak more or less 
 than truth, they arc villains, and the sons of dark- 
 ness. 
 
 P. Hen. Speak, sir; how was it? 
 
 Garf.?. We four set upon some dozen, 
 
 Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord. 
 
 Gails. And bound them. 
 
 Peto. No, no, they were not bound. 
 
 Fal. Y'ou rogue, they were bound, every man of 
 them ; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. 
 
 Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven 
 fresh men set upon us. 
 
 Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in ths 
 other. 
 
 P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all? 
 
 Fal. All? I know not what ye call all; hut if 1 
 fought not wilh fifty of them, I am a bunch of ra- 
 dish: ilthere were not two or three and fift}' U])on 
 poor old Jack, then I am no two-legged creature. 
 
 Poins. Pray God, jou have not murdered some 
 of them. 
 
 Fal. Nay, that's past praying for: for I liavo 
 peppered two of them : two, 1 am sure, I have ]>aid; 
 two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what 
 
 •SlOC'iiDSi. 
 
328 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Hal, — if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me 
 horse. Thou kiiowest my old ward ; — fiere I lay, 
 and thus 1 bore my point. Four rogues in buckram 
 let drive at me, 
 
 P. Hen. What, lour! thou saidst but two, even 
 now. 
 
 Fal. Four, Hal; I told thee four. 
 
 Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. 
 
 Fal. These liiur came all a-front, and mainly 
 thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took 
 all their seven points in my target, thus. 
 
 P. Hen. Seven ! why, there were but four, even 
 now. 
 
 Fal. In buckram. 
 
 Poiiift. Ay, four, in buclvrani suits. 
 
 Fed. Seven by these hilts, or 1 am a villain else. 
 
 P. Hen. Pr'ylhee, let him alone; we shall have 
 more anon. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal! 
 
 P. Hen. Ay. and mark thee too. Jack. 
 
 Fal. Do so, lor it is worth the listening to. These 
 nine in buckram, tiiat I told tliee of, 
 
 P. Hen. So, two more already. 
 
 Fal. Their points being broken, 
 
 Poins. Down fell their hose. 
 
 FtU. Began to {live me ground-: Cut I followed 
 me close, came m foot and liand; and with a 
 thought, seven of the eleven I paid. 
 
 P. Hen. O motistrous! eleven buckram men 
 grown out of two! 
 
 Fal. B61 as the devil would have it, three mis- 
 begotten knaves, in KondaP green, came at my 
 back, and let drive at me; — for it was so dark, Hal, 
 that thou couldst not see thy hand. 
 
 P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets 
 them; gross as a motmtain, open, palpable. Why, 
 thou clay-brained guts; thou knotty-pated fool; 
 thou whoreson, obscene, greasy, tallow-keech.^ 
 
 Fal. What, art thou mad! art thou mad! is not 
 the truth, the trutli! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men 
 in ICendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst 
 not see thy hand! come tell us your reason; What 
 sayest thou to this! 
 
 Pains. Come, your reason, Jaclc, your reason. 
 
 Fal. What, iipon compulsion! No; were I at 
 the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would 
 not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on 
 compulsion! if reasons were as plenty as black- 
 berriffi, I would give no man a reason upon com- 
 pulsion, I, 
 
 P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of tliis sin; this 
 sanguifie cov/ard, this bed-presser, this horse-back- 
 breaker, this hugh hill of flesh; 
 
 Fa'. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, yon 
 dried neat's tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-lish,— 
 0, for breath to utter what is like thee!— you tai- 
 lor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile 
 Btandmg tuc_k; 
 
 P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it 
 again: and when thou hast tired thj-self in base 
 comparisons, hear me speak but this. 
 
 Pnins. Mark, Jack. 
 
 P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four; you 
 
 bound them, and were masters of their wealth. 
 
 Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. — 
 Then did we two set on you four: and, with a 
 word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it; 
 yea, and can show it you here in the house: — and 
 Falstalf, you carried your guts away as nimbly, 
 with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and 
 still ran and roared, as ever I heard a bull-calf. — 
 Wiiat a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou 
 hast done; and then say, it w,as in nght ! What 
 trick, what device, w-ha't starting-hole, canst thou 
 now find out, to hide thee from this open and ap- 
 parent shame! 
 
 Pnins. Come, let's hear, Jack; What trick hast 
 thou now ! 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that 
 made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it lor 
 me to kill the heir-appiircnt! Should I turn upon 
 the true prince ! Why, thou knowest, I am as val- 
 iant as Hercules: but beware instinct; the lion 
 will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great 
 matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think 
 the better of myself and thee, during my life. I 
 
 5 A town in Westmoreland famous for making cloth. 
 ' A round lump of fat. 
 
 for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, 
 by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. 
 
 Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, 
 
 pray to-morrow. — CJallants, lads, boys, hearts ol 
 gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you ! 
 What, shall we be merry! shall we have a play 
 extempore! 
 
 P. Hen. Content;— and the argument shall bo 
 thy running away. 
 
 Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovcst 
 me. 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 Host. My lord the prince, 
 
 P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? wha 
 sayst thou to me! 
 
 Host. Marry, uiy lord, there is a nobleman of (he 
 court at door, would speak with you: he says, he 
 comes iVom your father. 
 
 P. Hen. Give liim as much as will make him a 
 royal man, and send him back again to my mother. 
 
 Fal. What manner of man is he! 
 
 Host. An old man. 
 
 Fal. What dolh gravity out of his bed at mid- 
 night! — Siiall 1 give him his answer! 
 
 P. Hen. I'r'ytlice, do. Jack. 
 
 Fal. Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, .sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair; — 
 so did you, Peto; so did you Bardolph: you are 
 lions too, you ran away upon instinct, j'ou will not 
 touch the true prince; no, — fye! 
 
 Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
 
 P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, how came Fal- 
 slaft's sword so hacked ! 
 
 Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger; and 
 said, he would swear truth out of England, but he 
 would make you believe it was done in fight; and 
 persuaded us to do the like. 
 
 Baril. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear- 
 grass to make them bleed: and then to beslubber 
 our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood 
 of true men. I did that I did not 'this seven years 
 before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices. 
 
 P. Hen. O, villain, thou stolest a cup of sack 
 eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the man- 
 ner,* and ever since thou hast blushed extempore: 
 Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou 
 ran'st away; What instinct hadst thou for it! 
 
 Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors! do you 
 behold these exhalations! 
 
 P. Hen. I do. 
 
 Bard. What think you they portend! 
 
 P. Hen. Hot livers "and cold purses.' 
 
 Bard. CJiolcr, my lord, if rightly taken. 
 
 P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter. 
 
 Re-enter FALaxAFP. 
 
 Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. How 
 now, my sweet creature of bombast!' How long 
 is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee! 
 
 Fal. My own taiee! when I was about thy years, 
 Hal, I was notan eagle's talon in the waist; "I could 
 have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: A 
 plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like 
 a bladder. There's villainous news abroad: here 
 was sir Jolm Bracy from your fiither; you must to 
 the court in the morning. That same mad fellow 
 of the north, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave 
 Amaimon' the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuck- 
 old, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon 
 the cross of a Welsh hook, — What, a plague, cali 
 you him! 
 
 Poins. 0, Glendower. 
 
 Fal. Owen, Owen ; the same ; — and his son-in-law, 
 Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and that 
 sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o'horse- 
 back up a hill perpendicular. 
 
 P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with 
 his pistol kills a sparrow flying. 
 
 Fat. You have hit it. 
 
 P. Hen. So did he never fJie sparrow. 
 
 Fal. Well, tliat rascal hath good mettle in liim; 
 he will not run. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to 
 praise him so for running! 
 
 *Tn the fact. ^Drunkenness and poverty 
 
 "Uomliast is the stuffing of clothes. 
 ' A (lemon ; who is iloscrihed as one of the four kingf, 
 who rule over all the demons in the world. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 329 
 
 Fat. O'horseback, ye cuckoo! but afoot, he will 
 not bud^e a foot. 
 
 P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 
 
 Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there 
 too, and on Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps' 
 more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; tiiy la- 
 ther's beard is turned white with the news; you 
 may buy land now as cheap as stinldng mackerel. 
 
 J. lien. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot 
 June, and this civil bufteting hold, we shall buy 
 maidenlicads as they buy hob-nails, by the hundred. 
 
 Fat. By the mass lad, thou sayest true; it is like, 
 we shall "have good trading that way. — But tell me, 
 Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou being heir- 
 apparent, could the world pick thee out three such 
 enemies again, as that ticnd Douglas, that spirit 
 Percy, and that devil Glendowerf Art thou not 
 horribly afraid^ doth not thy blood thrill at it! 
 
 P. Hen. Not a whit, i'faith; I lack some of thy 
 instinct. 
 
 Fat. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-moiTow, 
 when tiiou comest to thy father: if thou love me, 
 practise an answer. 
 
 P. Hen. Do thou stand for my flither, and ex- 
 amine nic upon the particulars of my life. 
 
 Ffil. Shall n content: — This chair shall be my 
 state, tiiis dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my 
 crown. 
 
 P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy 
 golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious 
 rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown. 
 
 Fed. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out 
 of thee, now shalt thou be moved. — Give me a cup 
 01' sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be 
 tliought 1 have wept ; lor I must speak in passion, 
 and I will do it in king Cambyses'" vein. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, here is my leg.' 
 
 Fal. And here is my speech :— Stand aside, no- 
 bility. 
 
 Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith. 
 
 Fal. ^\'eep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears 
 are vain. 
 
 Host. O, the father, how he holds his counte- 
 nance ! 
 
 Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful 
 queen. 
 For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. 
 
 Host. (( rare! he doth it as like one of these har- 
 lotry players, as I ever sec. 
 
 Fal. P.-ace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle- 
 brain.'' — liarry, I do not only mar\'el where thou 
 spendest thy time, but also now thou art accom- 
 panied : for though the camomile, the more it is 
 trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more 
 it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my 
 son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own 
 opinion; but chiefly, a villainous trick of thine eye, 
 and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth 
 warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies 
 the point; — Why, being son to me, art thou so 
 pointed atl Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove 
 a mieher,s ,and cat blackberries! a question not to 
 be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief 
 and take purses'! a question to be asked. There 
 Ls a thine. Harry, which thou hast orten heard of, 
 and it is known to many in our land by the name 
 of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, 
 doth defile; so doth the comp.any thou keep'st: 
 for, Harry, now, I do not speak to thee in drink, 
 but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not 
 in words only, but in woes also: — And yet there is 
 a virtuous man, whom I have often no"ted in thy 
 company, but I know not his name. 
 
 P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your 
 majesty ! 
 
 Fat. A good portly man. i'faith, and a corpulent ; 
 of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble 
 can-iage; and, as I think, his age some fifty. or by'r- 
 lady, inclining to three-score; and now I remember 
 me, his name is Falstatl': if tliat man should be 
 lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see 
 virtue in his looks. It then the tree may be knowTi 
 by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremp- 
 torily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstafl': him 
 keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou 
 
 6 Scotamen in blue bonnets. 
 
 •.\. character in a tragedy hy T. Preston, I5T0. 
 
 ' Olieisaiice. "Name of a strong liquor. 
 
 ^ A truant boy. 
 
 naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been thia 
 mouth ; 
 
 P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king'! Do thou 
 stand for me, and Til play Diy father. 
 
 Fal. Depose me! if thou dost it half so gravely, 
 so m.ajcstically, both in word and matter, hang me up 
 by the heels for a rabbit-sucker, or a poulter'share 
 
 P. Hen. Well, here I am set. 
 
 Fal. And here I stand: — ^judge, my masters. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, Harry? whence came you? 
 
 Fal. My noble lord, from Eastclieap. 
 
 P. Hen. The com plaints I hear of thee are grievous, 
 
 Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are liilse :-^nay , I' 
 tickle ve for a j'oung prince, i'faith. 
 
 P. lien. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? hence- 
 forth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried 
 away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in 
 the likeness of a fat old man : a tun of man is thy 
 companion. Why dost thou converse with that 
 trunk of humors, that bolting-hutch' of beastliness, 
 that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard* 
 of sack, that stufi'ed cloak bag of guts, that roasted 
 Manningtree' ox with the puddmg in his belly, 
 that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that lather 
 ruflian, that vanity in years? Wiicrein is he good, 
 but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and 
 cleanlj', but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein 
 cunning, but in craft? wherein craft}', but in vil- 
 lainy? wherein villainous,butin all thiiigs! wherein 
 worthy, but in nothing? 
 
 Fal. I would your grace would take me with 
 you; whom means your grace? 
 
 P. Hen. That villainous abominable misleader 
 of youth, Falstaff. that old white-bearded Satan, 
 
 t'al. My lord, the man I know. 
 
 P. Hen. I know thou dost. 
 
 Fal. But to say, I kTiow more harm in him than 
 in myself, were to say more than I know. That lie 
 is old (the more the pity) his white hairs do witness 
 it: but that he is (saving your reverence) a whore- 
 master, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a 
 fault God help thew'icked! If to be old and merry 
 be a sin, then many an old host that I know, is 
 damned: if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's 
 lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; ban- 
 ish Peto, banish Bardolph, b.inish Poins: but for 
 sweet Jack Falstatf, kind Jack Fahtalf, true Jack 
 Falstafl', valiant Jack Falstatf. and therclore more 
 valiant, being as he is, old Jack Falstatf, banish not 
 him thy Harry's company; banish plump Jack, 
 and banish all the world. 
 
 P. Hen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard. 
 
 [Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph. 
 Re-enter Bakdolph, running. 
 
 Bard. O, my lord, my lord; the sherilT with a 
 most monstrous watch, is at the door. 
 
 Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: I have 
 much to say in the behalf of that Falstall'. 
 Re-enter Hostess, hastily. 
 
 Hmt. Jesu, my lord, my lord ! — 
 
 Fat. Heigh ! heigh ! the devil rides upon a fiddle- 
 stick: Wliat's the matter? 
 
 Host. The sherifl' and all the watch are at the 
 door: they are come to search the house. Shall I 
 let them in? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece 
 of gold, a counterfeit: thou art essentially mad, 
 without stjeming so. 
 
 P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without 
 instinct. 
 
 Fal. I deny your major; if you will deny the 
 sheriff, so; if not, let him enter: if I become not a 
 
 cart as well as another man, a plague on my brin: 
 ing up! I hope. I " '" 
 halter, as another. 
 
 ing up! I hope. I shall as soon be stran 
 
 1 my br: 
 gled wi 
 
 itha 
 
 P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras; — the rest 
 walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face, 
 and good conscience. 
 
 Fal. Both which I have had: but their date U 
 out, and therefore I'll hide me. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Prisce and Poiss. 
 
 P. Hen. Call in the sheiifl'.— 
 
 Enter Sheriff and Carrier. 
 Now, master sheriflT: What's your will with me! 
 
 * The machine which separates flour from bran. 
 
 "^ A leather black-jack to llold beer. 
 
 « In Essex, where a large ox was roasted whole. 
 
330 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Shcr. First, pardon rae. my lord. A hue and cry 
 Hath tbllow'd certain men into tliis house. 
 
 P. Hen. Wliat men ! 
 
 Sficr. One otthem is well knovvn,my gracious lord, 
 A gross fat man. 
 
 Car. As fat as butter. 
 
 P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here; 
 For I myself at this time have employ'd him. 
 And, sherit!', I will engage my word to thee, 
 That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, 
 Send him to answer thee, or any man. 
 For any thing he shall be charged withal: 
 And so let me entreat you leave the house. 
 
 Sher. I will, my lordr There are two gentlemen 
 Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. 
 
 P. Hen. It may be so: ithehaverobb'd these men, 
 He shall be answerable ; and so, farewell. 
 
 Sher. Good night, my noble lord. 
 
 P. Hen. I think it is "good-morrow; Is it not? 
 
 Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. 
 [Exeunt SheriQ.' and Carrier. 
 
 P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as 
 Paul's. Go call him forth. 
 
 Poins. Falstaff! — fast asleep behind the arras, 
 and snorting like a horse. 
 
 P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: 
 Search his pockets. [Poixs searches.] What hast 
 thou found? 
 
 Poins. Nothing but papers, ray lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Let's see what they be: read them. 
 
 Pains. Item, A capon, is. id. 
 Item, Sauce, id. 
 Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. Sd. 
 Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. Gd. 
 Item, Bread, a half-penny. 
 
 P. Hen. monstrous! but one half-pennyworth 
 of bread to this intolerable deal of sack!— What 
 there is else, keep close ; we'll read it at more ad- 
 vantage; there let him sleep till day. I'll to the 
 court "in the morning: we must all to the wars, and 
 thy place sliall be honorable. I'll procure this fat 
 rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death will 
 be a march of twelve-score. Tlie money shall be 
 paid back again with advantage. Be with me be- 
 times in the morning; and so good-morrow, Poins, 
 
 Poins. Good-morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Hotspce, Worcesteh, Mortimer, and Glex- 
 
 DOWER. 
 
 Mart. These promises are fair, the parties sure, 
 And our induction full of prosperous hope. 
 
 Hot. Lord Mortimer — and cousin Glendower — 
 Will you sit down? — 
 And, uncle Worcester:— A plague upon it! 
 I have forgot the map. 
 
 Glend. No, here it is. 
 
 Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur: 
 For by that name as oft as Lancaster 
 Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale: and, with 
 A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven. 
 
 Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears 
 Owen Glendower spoke off. 
 
 Glend. I cannot blame him ; at my nativity 
 The front of heaven was full of tiery shapes, 
 Of burning cressets:' and at my birth. 
 The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
 Shak'd like a coward. 
 
 Hot. Why, so it would have done 
 
 At the same season, if your mother's cat had 
 But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. 
 
 Glend. I say. the earth did shake when I was born. 
 
 Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind. 
 If you suppose, as fearing you it sliook. 
 
 Glend. The heavens were all on Are, the earth 
 did tremble. 
 
 Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens 
 on fire. 
 And not in fear of your nativity. 
 Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
 In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth 
 Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd 
 By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
 Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving. 
 Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples* down 
 Steeples, and moss-grown towers. .A.t your birth. 
 Our grandam earth, having this distemperature, 
 In passion shook. 
 
 Glend. Cousin, of many men 
 
 I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
 To tell 5'ou once again, — that at my birth, 
 The iront of heaven was full of fiery shapes; 
 The goats ran from the moimtains, and the herds 
 Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
 These signs have mark'd me extraordinarj'; 
 And all the courses of my life do show, 
 I am not in the roll of common men. 
 Where is he living, — clipp'd in with the sea 
 That chides the banks of England, Scotland, 
 
 Wales,— 
 Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? 
 And bring him out, tliat is but woman's son, 
 
 'Lights set cross-ways upon beaeong. and also upon 
 poles, which were used in processions, <&c. ^ Tumbles, 
 
 Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, 
 And hold me pace in deep experiments. 
 
 Hot. I think there is no man speaks better 
 Welsh:— 
 I will to dinner. 
 
 Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him 
 mad. 
 
 Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 
 
 Hot. Why, so can I; or so can any man: 
 But will they come, when you do call for them? 
 
 Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command 
 The devil. 
 
 Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the 
 
 devil, 
 
 By telling truth ; Tell truth, and shame the devil.— 
 
 If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, 
 
 And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him 
 
 hence. 
 O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. 
 
 Mort. Come, come. 
 No nrore of this unprofitable chat. 
 
 Glend. Three times hath Harry Bolingbroke made 
 head 
 Against my power: thrice from the banks of Wye, 
 And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him, 
 Bootless home, and weather-beaten back. 
 
 Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too! 
 How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? 
 
 Glend, Come, here's the map; Shall we divide 
 our right, 
 According to our three-fold order ta'en? 
 
 ■ M(n-t. The archdeacon hath divided it 
 Into three limits, very equally: 
 England, from Trent and Severn hitherto. 
 By south and east, is to my part assign'd: 
 All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, 
 And all the fertile land within that bound. 
 To Owen Glendower:— and dear coz, to you 
 Till* remnant northward, lying off from Trent: 
 And our indentures tripartite are drawn: 
 W'liicli being scaled interchangeably, 
 (A business that this night may execute,) 
 To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I, 
 And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth. 
 To meet your father, and the Scottish power, 
 As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
 My father Glendower is not ready yet, 
 Nor sliall we need his help these fourteen days: 
 Within that space, [7d Gle.n'd.] you may hare 
 
 drawn together 
 Your tenants, friends, and neighboring gentlemen. 
 
 Glend. A shorter time shall send mo to you, 
 lords. 
 And in my conduct shall your ladies come: 
 From whom you now must steal, and take no leave; 
 For there will be a world of water shed, 
 Ujion the parting of your wives and you. 
 
 Hut, Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton 
 here. 
 In quantity equals not one of yours: 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 331 
 
 See, how this river comes rae cranking in, 
 And cuts me, from the best of all my land, 
 A hus;o half moon, a monstrous cantlc* out. 
 rU have the current in this place daran'd up; 
 And here the smug and silver Trent shall run, 
 In a new channel, iiiir and evenly: 
 It shall not wind witli such a deep indent, 
 To rob me of so rich a bottom here. 
 
 Glencl. Not wind] it shall, it must; you see, it 
 doth. 
 
 Muii. Yea, 
 But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up 
 With like advantage on tlie other side; 
 Gelding' the opposed continent as much, 
 As on the other side it takes from you. 
 
 IVoi: Yea, but a little charge will trench him 
 here, 
 And on this north side win this cape of land; 
 And then he runs straight and even. 
 
 }Iof. rU have it so; a little charge will do it. 
 
 Glend. I will not have it alter'd. 
 
 Hnf. Will not you ! 
 
 Oknd. No, nor you shall not. 
 
 hut. Who shall say me nay ; 
 
 lileml. Why that will I. 
 
 not. Let me not understand you then, 
 
 S])eak it in Welsh. 
 
 Glend. I can speak English, lord, as weU as you; 
 For 1 was train'd up in the English court: 
 Where, being but young, I framed to the harp 
 Many ;in English ditty, lovely well. 
 And tcavc tlie tongue a helpful ornament; 
 A virtue tliat was never seen in you. 
 
 Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart: 
 I had rather be a kitten, and cry— mew, 
 Tlian one of these same metre ballad-mongers: 
 I had rather hear a brazen canstick' turn'u, 
 Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree; 
 And lliat would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
 Nothing so much as nimcing poetry; 
 'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. 
 
 Gltnd. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. 
 
 Hot. I do not care : I'll give thrice so much land 
 To any well-deserving friend; 
 But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
 I'll cavil on the nintli part of a hau-. 
 Are tlie indentures drawn 1 shall we he gone? 
 
 Glenil. The moon sliines fair, you may away by 
 niglil: 
 I'll haste the wTiter, and. withal, 
 Break= with your wives of your departure hence: 
 I am afraid, my daughter will run mad, 
 So much she dotetli on her Mortimer. [Ex^il. 
 
 Mart. Fye, cousin Percy! how you cross my 
 father! 
 
 Hot. I cannot choose : sometimes he angers mc. 
 With telling me of llie moldwarp' and tlie ant, 
 Of tlie dreamer Merlin and his prophecies; 
 And of a dragon and a tinlcss fish, 
 A clip-wing"d griffin, and a moulten raven, 
 A cuucliing lion, and a ramping cat, 
 And sucli a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
 As puis me from my laitli. I tell jou what, — 
 He held inc. but last night, at least nine hours, 
 In reckoning up tlie several devils' names, 
 Tlicre were his lacqueys: I cried, humph,— and 
 
 well.— go to, — 
 But mark'd him not a word. 0, lie's as tedious 
 As is a tired iiorse, a railing wite; 
 Worse than a smoky house: — I had rather live 
 With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, tar, 
 Than feed on cates, ai)d have him talk to mc, 
 In any summer-house in Christendom. 
 
 Moi-t. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; 
 Exceedingly well read, and profited 
 In strange concealments; valiant as a lion, 
 And wonJious atlable: and as bountiful 
 As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 
 llo liLilils your temper in a high respect. 
 Anil curbs himself even of his natural scope. 
 When you do cross his humor; faith, he dues: 
 I \\ lurant you, that man is not alive, 
 IMIi^ht so have tempted him as you have done, 
 Without the taste of danger and reproof; 
 But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. 
 
 IVoi: In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame; 
 And since your coming hither have done enough 
 
 •Corner. 'Cutting. 
 
 *Ureak the matter. 
 
 s Candlestick. 
 
 •Mole. 
 
 To put him quite beside his patience; 
 
 You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault: 
 
 Though sometimes it show greatness, courage 
 
 blood, 
 (And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) 
 Y'et oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
 Defect of manners, want of government. 
 Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain: 
 The least of which, hamiting a nobleman, 
 Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain 
 Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
 Beguiling them of commendation. 
 jlut. Well, I am school'd; good maimers be youi 
 speed ! 
 Here comes our wives, and let us take our leave. 
 
 Re-enter Glesdoweh, luil/t the Ladies. 
 
 Mm-t. This is the deadly spite that angers me,— 
 My wile can speak no English, I no Welsh. 
 Gtend. My daughter weeps; she will not part 
 with you, 
 Slie'U be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 
 Murt. Good father, tell her,— that she, and my 
 aunt Percy, 
 Shall follow in your conduct speedily. 
 
 [Glesdowek spealxs to Uis iluugnter in Welsh, 
 and she an.nvers him in the same. 
 Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-wiil'd 
 harlotry. 
 One no persuasion can do good upon. 
 
 [Lady M. tpcalis to Mortimer in Welsh. 
 
 Mart. I understand thy looks; that jiretty Welsh 
 
 Which thou pourest down from those swelling 
 
 heavens, 
 I am too perlect in; and, but for shame, 
 In such a parley would I answer thee. 
 
 (Lady Mortisier speaks, 
 I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, 
 And that's a feeling disputation : 
 But I will never be a truant, love. 
 Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue 
 Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, 
 Sung by a lair queen in a summer's bower. 
 With ravishing division, to her lute.' 
 Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. 
 [Lady Mortimer spealcs again. 
 Mvrt. 0. 1 am ignorance itself in this. 
 Glend. She bids you 
 Upon the wanton rushes lay you down. 
 And rest your gentle bead upon her lap, 
 And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, 
 And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep, 
 Charniiiig your blood Willi pleasing heaviness; 
 Jlakiiig sui-li difl'erence 'Iwixt wake and sleep. 
 As is the dilicrenco betwixt day and night, 
 'rhe hour belore the heavenly narness'd team 
 Begins ills golden progress in the east. 
 Murt. With all my heart Til sit, and hear her 
 sing: 
 By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. 
 
 Glend. Do so ; 
 And those musicians that shall play to you. 
 Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence; 
 Y'et straight they shall be here: sit, and attend. 
 
 Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: 
 Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy 
 lap. 
 Lady. P. Go, j-e giddy goose. 
 
 Glendowes speaks some Welsh le-ords, and then 
 the Music plays. 
 
 Hot. Now I perceive t he devil understands Welsh; 
 And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous. 
 By'r lady, he's a good musician. 
 
 Larii/. P. Then should you be nothing but mu- 
 sical ; for you are altogether governed by humors. 
 Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing m Welsh. 
 
 Hot. 1 had rather hear Lady, my bracii," liowl in 
 Irish. 
 
 Lady. P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken! 
 
 //,-/. No. 
 
 Ladi/. P. Then be still. 
 
 HutI Neither; 'tis a woman's fault. 
 
 Lady. P. Now God help thee! 
 
 Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. 
 
 Lfidy. P. What's that! 
 
 Hot. Peace ! she sings. 
 
 'A compliment to queen Elizabeth. 
 
 CHounil 
 
332 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act m. 
 
 A Welsh SOXG, su7ig by Lady Mortuier. 
 
 Hof. Come Kate, I'll have your so!ig too. 
 
 Lady. P. Not mine, in good sooth. 
 
 Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear 
 like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, iji good sooth; 
 and, As true as I live; and, As God shall mend me; 
 and. As sure as day : 
 
 And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, 
 As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.' 
 Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art, 
 A good mouth-filling oath ; and leave in sooth, 
 And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, 
 To velvet guards,8 and Sunday citizens. 
 Come, sing. 
 
 Laiy. P. I will not sing. 
 
 Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red- 
 breast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll 
 away within these two hours ; and so come in when 
 ye will. ^ [Exit. 
 
 Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as 
 slow, 
 As hot lord Percy is on fire to go: 
 By this our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and then 
 To horse immediately. 
 
 Mori. With all my heart. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter KixH Hekrt, Peijtcb of Wales, and Lords. 
 
 K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of Wales, 
 and 1, 
 Must have some conference: But be near at hand, 
 For we shall presently have need of you. — 
 
 [Exeitnt Lords. 
 I know not whether God will have it so. 
 For some displeasing service I have done, 
 That in his secret doom out of my blood 
 He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me; 
 But thou dost, in thy pass.ages of life, 
 Make me believe,— that thou art only mark'd 
 For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven, 
 To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else, 
 Could such inordinate, and low desires, 
 Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at- 
 tempts. 
 Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
 As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to, 
 Accompany the greatness of thy blood. 
 And hold their level with thy princely heart 1 
 
 P. Hen So please your majesty, I would, I could 
 Quit all ofl'ences with such clear excuse. 
 As well Rs, I am doubtless, I can purge 
 Myself of many I am charged withal: 
 Yet such extenuation let me beg. 
 As, in reproof of many tales devis'd. — 
 Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, 
 By smiling pick-thanks» and base newsmongers, 
 I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
 Hath laulty wander'd and irregular, 
 Find pardon on my true submission. 
 
 K. Hen. God pardon thee! — yet let me wonder, 
 Harry, 
 At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
 Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
 Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, 
 W/iich by the younger brother is sup'plied; 
 And art almost an alien to the hearts 
 Of all the court and princes of my blood : 
 The hope and expectation of thy time 
 Is ruinM; and the soul of every man 
 I'rophelically does fore-think thy fall. 
 Had 1 so lavish of my presence been, 
 So common hackneyM in the eves of men, 
 So stale and cheap in vulgar company; 
 Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 
 Had still kept loyal to possession ; 
 And left me in reputeless banishment, 
 A li'llow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
 By being seldom seen, I could not stir, 
 But, like a comet, I was wondered at; 
 That man would tell their children. This is he: 
 Others would sd.y. — Where'J U'hichvi Bolingbrike? 
 And llien I stole all courtesy from heaven, 
 Anil dress'd myself in such humility. 
 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts. 
 Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
 Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
 
 ' In MoorfielJs. ^ Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys. 
 Officious parasites. 
 
 Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; 
 
 My presence, like a robe pontifical. 
 
 Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at : and so my state, 
 
 Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast; 
 
 And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 
 
 The skipping king, he ambled up and down 
 
 With shallow jesters, and rash bavin' wits. 
 
 Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state; 
 
 Mingled his royalty with caperin» tools; 
 
 Had his great name profaned with their scorns; 
 
 And gave his countenance, against his name, 
 
 To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push 
 
 Of every beardless and vain comparative: 
 
 Grew a companion to the common streets; 
 
 F-nfeolPd himself to popularity: 
 
 That being daily svvallow'd tiy men's eyes. 
 
 They surfeited with honey; and began 
 
 To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
 
 More than a little is by much too much. 
 
 So, when he had occasion to be seen. 
 
 He was out as the cuckoo is in June, 
 
 Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes, 
 
 As, sick and blunted with community, 
 
 Afford no extraordinary gaze. 
 
 Such as is bent on sun like majesty 
 
 When it shines seldom in admiring eyes: 
 
 But rather drowz'd. and hung their eyelids down. 
 
 Slept in his face, and rendered such aspect 
 
 As cloudy men use to their adversaries; 
 
 Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full. 
 
 And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou: 
 
 For thou hast lost thy princely privilege. 
 
 With vile participation; not an eye 
 
 But is a-weary ot^ the common sight. 
 
 Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; 
 
 Which now doth that 1 would not have it do. 
 
 Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 
 
 P. Hen. I shall hereafl-er, my thrice-gracious lord 
 Be more myself. 
 
 K. Hen. For all the world, 
 
 As thou art to this hour, was Richard then 
 When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg; 
 And even as I was then, is Percy now. 
 Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot. 
 He liatn more worthy interest to the state. 
 Than thou, the shadow of succession: 
 For, of no right, nor color like to right. 
 He doth fill fields with harness^ in the realm; 
 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws; 
 And, being no more in debt to years than thou. 
 Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on. 
 To bloody battles, and to bruising arms. 
 What never-dying honor hath he got 
 Against renowned Douglas; whose high deeds, 
 Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms, 
 Holds, from all soldiers chief majority, 
 And military title capital, 
 
 Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ? 
 Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes, 
 This infant warrior, in his enterprizes 
 Discomfited great Douglas: ta'en him once. 
 Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, 
 To fill the mouth of deep defiance up. 
 And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
 And what say you to this ? Percy. Northumberland, 
 The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, 
 Capitulate 3 against us. and are up. 
 But wherefore do 1 tell these news to thee? 
 Why. Harry, do I tell thee of my foes. 
 Which art my near'st and dearest' enemy ? 
 Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear, 
 Base inclination, and the start of spleen, — 
 To fight against me under Percy's pay. 
 To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns. 
 To show how much thou art degenerate. 
 
 P. Hen. Do not think so; you shall not find it so; 
 And God forgive them, that have so much sway'd 
 Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! 
 I will redeem all this on Percy's head. 
 And in the closing of some glorious day. 
 Be bold to tell you that I am your son ; 
 When I will wear a garment all of blood, 
 And stain my favors in a bloody mask. 
 Which wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it. 
 And that shall be tlie day, whene'er it lights. 
 That this same child of honor and renown. 
 This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised toiight. 
 And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet: 
 
 'Brushwood. ^ Armor. ^Combine. *Most fatal. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENEY IV. 
 
 333 
 
 For every lionor sittin» on his helm, 
 
 'Would they were muuitades; and on my head 
 
 Jly shame redoubled ! lor the time will come, 
 
 Tliat I shall make this northern youth exchange 
 
 His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
 
 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
 
 To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
 
 And 1 will call him to so strict account. 
 
 That he shall render every glory up. 
 
 Yea, even tlie slightest worsnip of his time. 
 
 Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
 
 This, in the name of God, I promise here: 
 
 The which if he be pleasM 1 shall perform, 
 
 1 do beseech, your majesty may salve 
 
 The long-grown wourids of my intemperance; 
 
 If not, the end of life cancels all bands ; 
 
 And I will die a hundred thousand deaths, 
 
 Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 
 
 A". Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this: 
 Thou slialt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. 
 
 Enter Blunt. 
 How now. good Blunt] thy looks are full of speed. 
 Blunt. So hath the business that I come to 
 speak of. 
 Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, — 
 That Douglas and the English rebels, met 
 The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury; 
 A mighty and a fearful head they are, 
 If promises be kept on every hand. 
 As ever oHer"d foul play in a state. 
 K. Ikn. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to- 
 day: 
 With him iny son, lord John of Lancaster; 
 For this advertisement is five days old: — ■ 
 On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set 
 Forward ; On Thursday, we ourselves will march : 
 Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you. 
 Shall march througli Glostcrshire ; by which ac- 
 
 coimt, 
 Our business valued, some twelve days hence 
 Our general forces at Bridgnorth sh.all meet. 
 Our hands are full of busifiess: let's away; 
 Advantage lijeds him fat, while men delay. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IIL— Eastcheap. A Room in l/ie Boar's 
 
 Head Tavern. 
 
 Enter Falstaff and BAflDOLPti. 
 
 Fat. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vUely since 
 this last action] do I not bate] do 1 not dwindle ] 
 Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's 
 loose grown; I am wither'd hke an old apple-John. 
 Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in 
 some liki ng ; ' I shall be out of heart, shortly, and then 
 I sliall have no strength to repent. An I have not 
 forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I 
 am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a 
 church ! Company, villainous company, hath been 
 the spoil of me. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live 
 long. 
 
 Fal. Why, there is it: — come, sing me a bawdy 
 song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, 
 as a gentleman need to be ; virtuous enough ; swore 
 little; diced, not above seven times a week; went 
 to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter — of 
 an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four 
 times; lived well, and in good compass; and now 
 I live out of all order, out of all compass. 
 
 Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you 
 must needs be out of all compass; out of all rea- 
 sonable compass, sir John. 
 
 Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my 
 life; Thou art our admiral,® thou bearest the lan- 
 tern in the poop,— but 'tis inthe nose of thee; thou 
 art the knight of the burning lamp. 
 
 Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no harm. 
 
 Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it 
 as many a man doth of a death^'s head, or a ine- 
 mentn rnnri: 1 never see thy face, but I think upon 
 hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there 
 he is in his robes burning, burning. If thou wertany 
 way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; 
 my oath should be. By this lire : but thou art alto- 
 gether given over; and wert indeed, but for the 
 light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. — VVhen 
 thou ran'st up Gadshill in the night to catch my 
 
 •nave some flesh. 
 
 ^Admiral's ship. 
 
 horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis 
 fatuus, or a ball of wildtire, there's no purchase in 
 money. 0, thou art a perpetual triumph, an ever- 
 lasting bonlire-light! Thou hast saved me a thou- 
 sand marks in links and torches, walking with thee 
 in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the 
 sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought 
 me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's 
 in Etirope. I have maintained that salamander of 
 yours with fire, any time these tw'o-and-thirty years; 
 Heaven reward me for it ! 
 
 Bard. 'Sblood, 1 would my face were in your 
 belly ! 
 
 Fal. God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be 
 heart-burned. 
 
 » Enter Hostess. 
 
 How now, dame Partlet the hen]' have you in- 
 quired yet who picked my pocket] 
 
 //o«/."Why. sir John! what do you think, sir 
 ,Tohn] do you think I keep thieves in my house] I 
 have searched, I have enquired, so has my hus- 
 band, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant; 
 the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house 
 before. 
 
 Fal. You lie. hostess; Bardolph was shaved and 
 lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was 
 picked; (io to, you are a woman, go. 
 
 Hijit. Who, 1] I defy thee; I was never called 
 so in mine own house before. 
 
 Fal. Go to, I know jou well enough. 
 
 Huf>t. No, sir John; you do not know me, sir 
 John; I know you, sir John; you owe me money, 
 sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me 
 of it ; 1 bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. 
 
 Fal. Dowlas, hllhy dowla-s: I have given them 
 away to bakcra' wives, and they have made bolters 
 of them. 
 
 Hoat. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of 
 eight shillings an cU. You owe money here besides, 
 sir John, lor your diet, and by-drinkings, and 
 money lent you, four-and-twenty pound. 
 
 Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. 
 
 HiM. He] also, he is poor; he hath nothing. 
 
 Fal. How! poor] look upon his face; What call 
 you rich] let them coin his nose, let them coin his 
 checks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you 
 make a younker ot me] shall I not take mine ea.se 
 in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked] I 
 have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth 
 forty mark. 
 
 Host. O Jcsu! I have heard the prince tell him, 
 I know not how olt, that that ring was copper. 
 
 Fal. How! the prince is a Jack," a sneak-cup; 
 and. if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog 
 if he would say so. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and PoiNS, marctiin^. Vk\>- 
 STAFF meets Ike Piasi:E,pkii/ins on 4« truncheon 
 tike a fife. 
 
 Fal. How now, lad] is the wind in that door, 
 i'faith] must we all march] 
 
 Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. 
 
 Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 
 
 P. i/f«.'What sayest'thou, mistress Quickly] 
 How does thy husband] I love him well, he is an 
 honest man. 
 
 Host. Good my lord, hear me. 
 
 Fal. Pr'vthee, let her alone, and list to me. 
 
 P. Hen. What say'st thou. Jack? 
 
 Fai. The other night I fell asleep here behind the 
 arras, and had my pocket picked; th« house, ia 
 turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets 
 
 P. Hen. What didst thou lose. Jack] 
 
 Fal. Wilt thou belivve me, Hal] threi or four 
 bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my 
 grandfather's, • 
 
 P. Hen. A trifle, someeight-penny matter. 
 
 Host. So I told him, my lord; andl said, I heard 
 your grace say so; And my lord, he speaks moat 
 vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; 
 and said, he would cudgel you. 
 
 P. Hen. What! ho did not] 
 
 Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman- 
 hood in me else. 
 
 Fat. There's no more faith in thee than in astewed 
 prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn 
 
 ' In the story-book of Ri^ynard the Fox. 
 
 ^ A term of contempt freuueutly used by Shakspeare. 
 
334 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian" may be 
 the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you 
 thing, go. 
 
 Host. Say, what thing? what thing? 
 
 Fal. What thing! why, a thing tothankGod on. 
 
 }lost. I am no thing to tliani; God on, I would 
 thou should'stknow it; I am an honest man's wife, 
 an({, setting tiiy knightiiood aside, thou art aliiiave 
 to call me so. 
 
 I'ul. Setting thy Vi'omanhood aside, thou art a 
 beast to eay otherwise. 
 
 Hust. Say, what Ijeast, thou knave, thou? 
 
 Fal. What beast? why, an otter. 
 
 P. Hen. An otter, sir John! why an otter? 
 
 Ful. Why, she's neither fish, nor liesh;'a man 
 icnows not where to have her. \ , 
 
 Hust. Thou art an unjust man in .saying so; tkou 
 or any man knows where to have me, tliou knave 
 thou.' 
 
 P. Hen. Thou sayost true, hostess ; and he slan- 
 ders tliee most grossly. 
 
 Hud. .So he cloth you, my lord; and said this 
 other day, you ought him a thousand pound. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrali, do I owe 3'ou a thousand pound? 
 
 Fat. A thousand pound, Hal! a million: thy 
 love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. 
 
 Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, 
 he would cudgel you. 
 
 Fal. DidI, iSardolph? 
 
 Sard. Indeed, sir John, you said so. 
 
 Fat. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper. 
 
 P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Barest thou be as 
 good as thy word now? 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, Ihou knowest, as thou art but 
 man, I djre: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, 
 as I I'ear the roaring of the lion's whelp. 
 
 P. Hen. And why not, as the lion? 
 
 Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: 
 Dost thou think, I'll fear as I fear thy father? nay, 
 an 1 do, 1 pnu' i-oi\. my girdle break? 
 
 P. Hen. 0, if it should, how would thy guts fall 
 about tliy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for 
 faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine: it 
 is tilled up with guts, and inidritr. Charge an hon- 
 est woman with i^icking thy pocket! Why, thou 
 whoreson, impudent, embossed^ rascal, if there 
 were any thing in tliy pocket but tavern-reckon- 
 ings, memorandums ot bawdy-houses, and one poor 
 penny-worth of sugar candy to make thee long 
 winded: if thy pocket were enriched with any 
 other injuries but tiiese, 1 am a villain. And yet 
 
 you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: 
 Art thou not ashatned? 
 
 Fal. Dust thou hear, Hal? thou k-nowest, in the 
 state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should 
 poor Jack FalstalTdo, in the days of villainy ? Thou 
 secst, I have more flesh than anolher man; and 
 
 therefore more frailty. You confess then, you 
 
 picked my pocket? 
 
 P. Hen. It appears so by the story. 
 
 Fat. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready 
 breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, 
 cherish thy guests: thou shalt lind me tractable to 
 any honest reason; thou seest, I am pacified. — 
 Still? — Nay, pr'y thee, begone. [-ExS Hostess.] Now, 
 Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad. — 
 How is that answered? 
 
 P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good 
 angel to tliee: — The money is paid back again. 
 
 Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'Us a dou- 
 ble labor. 
 
 P. Hen. I am good friends with my fatlier, and 
 may do any thing. 
 
 Pal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou 
 doest. and do it with unwashed hands too 
 
 Bant. Do, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. 
 
 Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Wliere shall 
 I find one that can steal well? for a fme thief, 
 of the age of two-and-twenty, or thereabouts! I 
 am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked 
 for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; 
 I laud them, I praise them. 
 
 P. Hen. Bardolph ■ 
 
 Bard. My lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lan- 
 caster, 
 My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore- 
 land, — 
 Go, Poins. to horse, to horse; for thou, and I, 
 
 Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. 
 
 Jack, 
 
 Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall 
 
 At two o'clock i'the afternoon : 
 
 There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive 
 
 Money, and order lor their furniture. 
 
 The land is burning; Percy stands on high; 
 
 And either they, or we, must lower lie. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince, Poiss, and Bakdolph. 
 
 Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my 
 
 breakfast; come: — 
 0, 1 could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCEM; I.— The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 Enter Hotspcr, Worcester, and Dooglas. 
 
 Hat. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth. 
 In this fine age, were not thought flattery. 
 Such attribution should the Douglas" have, 
 As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
 Should go so general current throngli the world. 
 By heaven, I cannot Hatter; I defy 
 Tlie tongues of soothers; but a braver place 
 In my lu';irt's love, hath no man than yourself: 
 Nav, task me to the word; approve me, lord. 
 
 t):ni!^. Thou art the king of honor: 
 No man so potent breathes upon the ground, 
 But 1 will beard him. 
 
 Hut. Do so, and 'tis well : — 
 
 Enter a Messenger, ivilh Letters, 
 * 
 What letters hast thou there? — I can but thank j'ou. 
 Mess. These letters come from your father,— 
 Hut. Letters from him! why comes he not him- 
 self! 
 Me.is. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous 
 
 sick. 
 Hut. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick. 
 In such a justling time? Who leads his power! 
 Under whose government come they along? 
 
 « A female character, who attends morris-dancers; gen- 
 erally a man dresaed lilie a woman. ^ Swoln, puffy. 
 
 ^This expression is applied by way of pre eminence 
 {q the bead of the Douglas family. 
 
 Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. 
 
 War. I pr'vthee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? 
 
 Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; 
 And at the time of my departure thence. 
 He was much fear'd by his physicians. 
 
 Wur. I would, the state of time had first been 
 whole. 
 Ere he by sickness had been visited; 
 His health was never better worth than now. 
 
 Hot. Sick now! drooj) now! this sickness doth 
 infect 
 The very life-blood of our enterprize; 
 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.— 
 He Writes me here, — that inward sickness — 
 And that his friends by deputation could not 
 So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet, 
 To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
 On any soul remov'd, but on his own. 
 Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, — 
 That with onr small conjunction, we should on. 
 To see how fortune is dispos'd to us: 
 For, as he writes, there is no quailing^ now; 
 Because the king is certainly possess'd 
 Of all our purposes. What say you to it? 
 
 Wur. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. 
 
 Hut. A perilous g.ash, a very limb lopp'd off:— 
 And yet. in faith, 'tis not: his present want 
 Seems more than we shall find it: — Were it good, 
 To set the exact wealth of all our stales 
 All at one cast ? to set so rich a main 
 ^Languishing. 
 
SOENE II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 335 
 
 On thr nice hazard of one doubtful hour? 
 It were not good: for tlicrcin should we read 
 The very I)ottom and the soul of ho2ie; 
 The very list,-" the very utmost bound 
 Ot'all our fortunes. 
 
 Dijug. Faith, and so we should; 
 
 Where now remains a sweet reversion: 
 \Vc may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
 Is to coine in: 
 A comfort of retirement lives in this. 
 
 Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, 
 If that the devil and mischance look big 
 Upttn the maidenhead of our alfairs. 
 
 IVor. But yet. I would your father had been here. 
 The quality and hair^ of our attempt 
 liriHiIvs no division: It will be thought 
 Hy some, that know not why he is aw-ay. 
 That wi.idom, loyalty, and mere dislike 
 Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence; 
 And tliiak, how such an apprchenbion 
 May turn the tide of fearful taction, 
 And breed a kind of question iii our cause: 
 For well you know, wo of the offering side 
 Must keep aloof from strict arbitroment; 
 And stop all siglit-holcs, every loop, from whence 
 The eye of reason may pry in upon us: 
 This absence of your lather's draws a curtain, 
 That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
 Before not dreamt of. 
 
 llii/. You strain too far. 
 
 T, rather, of his absence make this use; — 
 It lends a lustre, and more great opinion, 
 A Inriicr dare to our great enterprize, 
 TlKia if the earl were here: tcir men must think, 
 If we, v.'itiiout his help, can make a head 
 To push against the kingdom; with his help. 
 We shall overturn it, topsy-turvy down. — 
 Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
 
 Diiug. As heart can think: there is not such a 
 word 
 Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear. 
 
 Enter Sir Uiciiakd Vekxon. 
 
 Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul. 
 
 Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, 
 lord. 
 The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong. 
 Is marching hitherward; with him, prince John. 
 
 Nnt. No harm: what more ! 
 
 i'ir. And further, I have IcarnM — 
 
 The king himself in person is set forth, 
 Or hitherwards intended speedily, 
 Willi strong and mighty preparation. 
 
 Hot. He shall be welcome, too. Where is his son. 
 The nimble-footed madcap prince of Wales, 
 And his comrtids that dallM" the world aside. 
 And bid it pass! 
 
 Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms. 
 
 All plum'd like estridges' that wing the wind; 
 Haled' like eagles liaving lately bath'd; 
 (ilittering in golden coals, like images; 
 As lulljjf spirit as the month of May, 
 And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; 
 Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
 I saw young Harry, — with his beaver on. 
 His cnisses" on his thighs, gallantly arin'd, — 
 Hise fioni tlie ground like feather'd Mercury, 
 And vaulted with such ease into his seat. 
 As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pagasus, 
 And witch the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun in 
 March, 
 This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come; 
 They come like sacrifices in their trim. 
 And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war. 
 All hot. and bleeding, will we offer them : 
 The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
 Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire. 
 To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh. 
 And yet not ours:— Come, let me take my horse. 
 Who is to ()ear me like a thunderbolt. 
 Against the bosom of the prince of Wales: 
 Harry lo Harry shall, hot horse to horse. 
 Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.— 
 O, tliat Glendovver were come! 
 
 * Limit, boundary. ' The complexion, the character. 
 
 "Threw contemptuously. 'Ostriches. 
 
 'Fresh »Armor for the thighs. 
 
 Ver. There is more news 
 
 I learn'd in Worcester as I rode along, 
 He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 
 
 Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hea'rof yet. 
 
 Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. 
 
 Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach 
 unto ? 
 
 Ver. To thirty thousand . 
 
 Hot. Forty let it be; 
 
 My lather and Glendower being both away, 
 The powers of us may serve so great a day. 
 Come, let us make a muster speedily: 
 Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. 
 
 Drnig. Talk not of dying; I am out of fear 
 Of death, or death's haiid, for this one half year. 
 
 [JEj-eunl, 
 SCENE II.— .I public Road near Coventry. 
 Enter Falstaff a?id Bardolpii. 
 
 Fat. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry, fill 
 me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march 
 through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. 
 
 Bard. Will you give me money, captaini 
 
 Fat. Lay out, lay out. 
 
 Bard. This bottle makes an angel. 
 
 Fal. An if it do, take it for tlfy labor; and if it 
 make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. 
 Bid my lieutenafit Peto meet me at the town's end. 
 
 Bard. 1 will, captain: farewell. [Ejcit. 
 
 Fat. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a 
 soused gurnet. I have misu.sed the king's press 
 damnably. I have got in exchange of a hundred 
 and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. 
 I press me none but good householders, yeomen's 
 sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as 
 had been asked twice on the bans ; such a com- 
 modity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil 
 as a drum; such as fear tlic report of a caliver* 
 worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I 
 pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with 
 hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, 
 and they have bought out their services; and now 
 my whole charge consists of ancients, corjiorals, 
 lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as rag- 
 ged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the 
 glutton's dogs licked his sores: and such as, in- 
 deed, were never soldiers, but discarded, unjust 
 serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, re- 
 volted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen ; the cankers 
 of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more 
 dishonorably ragged than an old-faced ancient:* 
 and such have I to fill up the rooms of thein that 
 have bought out their services, that >ou would 
 think, that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodi- 
 gals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating 
 draffand husks. A mad fellow met me on the way. 
 and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, ana 
 pressed the dead bodies. No eye hatli seefi such 
 scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with 
 them, that's flat:— Nay, and the villains march 
 wide betwixt the legs, as if' they had gyves^ on; 
 for, indeed. I had the tnost of them out of prison. 
 Tiiere's but a shirt and a half in all my com]iaiiy: 
 and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together, 
 and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat 
 without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, 
 stfilen from my host at Saint Alban's. or the red- 
 nose inn-keeper of Daititry.* But that's all one; 
 they'll find linen enough on every hedge. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland. 
 
 P. Hen. Hownow, blown Jack! hownow. quilt? 
 
 Fal. Wliat, Hal! How now, mad wag"! what a 
 devil dost thou in Warwickshire? — M>' good lord 
 of Westmoreland, 1 cry you mercy; I thought your 
 honor had already been at Shrewsbury. 
 
 West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that 
 1 were there, and you too; but my powers are 
 there already: The king. I can tell you, looks lor 
 us all: we must away all night. 
 
 Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant as a 
 cat to steal cream. 
 
 P. Hen. I think to steal cream, indeed; for thy 
 theft hath alteady made thee butter. But, tell me. 
 Jack; Whose fellows are these that come after? 
 
 Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. 
 
 'Musket. 'staniianf. 
 
 ' Daveutry, pronounced Daintry. 
 
 = Fetters. 
 
336 
 
 FIKST PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 p. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. 
 
 Fal. Tul, tut; good enou)^h to toss; food for 
 powder, food for rowder; they'll All a pit, as well 
 as better: tush, man, mortal riicn, mortal men. 
 
 JVesf. Ay, but sir John, methinks they are ex- 
 ceeding poor and bare; too beggarly. 
 
 Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, — I know not where 
 they had that; and for their bareness, — I am sure 
 they never learned that of me. 
 
 P. Heti. No, I'll be sworn; unless j-ou call three 
 fingers on the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste; 
 Percy is already in the field. 
 
 Fnl. What, is the Idng encamped? 
 
 West. He is, sir John; 1 fear we shall stay too 
 loni. 
 
 Fal. Well, 
 To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a 
 
 feast. 
 Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— TAe Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter Hotspdr, 'Worcestkr, Doublas, and 
 Verkos. 
 
 Hoi. We'll fight with him to-night. 
 
 IVor. It may not be. 
 
 Diiug. You give him then advantage. 
 
 I'tr. Not a whit. 
 
 Hit. Why say you so '! looks he not tor supply 1 
 
 Ver. So do we. 
 
 Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. 
 
 IVitr. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night. 
 
 J'er. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Duug. Vou do not counsel well; 
 
 Vou speak it out of fear and cold heart. 
 
 Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, 
 (And I dare well maintain it with my lite.) 
 If well respected honor bid me on, 
 I hold as little counsel with weak fear. 
 As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives: — • 
 Let it be seen to-morrow iu the battle, 
 Which of us fears. 
 
 DiKig. Yea, or to-night, 
 
 Ver. Content. 
 
 Hut. To-night, say I. 
 
 Ter. Come, come, it may not be. 
 
 I wonder much, being men ol such great Icadiug,'' 
 That \'ou Ibrsee not what impediments 
 Drag back our expedition: Certain horse 
 Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: 
 Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day; 
 And now their pride and mettle is asleep. 
 Their courage with hard labor tame anci dull. 
 That not a horse is half the half himself. 
 
 Hut. So are the horses of tin; enemy, 
 In general journey-bated and brought low; 
 The better part of ours is full of rest. 
 
 iVur. The number of the king exceedeth ours: 
 For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come mi. 
 
 [TAe Trumpet suunil^ a parley. 
 Enter Sir Walter Blcnt. 
 
 Biiint. I come with gracious offers from the Idng, 
 If vou vouchsafe me hearing, and respect. 
 
 Hut. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt ; And 'would to 
 <;od. 
 You were of our determination ! 
 Some of us love you well : and even those some 
 Envy yourgreat'deserving, and good name; 
 Because you are fiof of our quality,' 
 But sfaufl against us like an eneiiiy. 
 
 Blunt. And God defend but still I should stand so. 
 So long as, out of limit, and true rule, 
 Vou stand against anointed majesty ! 
 But to my charge.— The king hath sent to know 
 The nature of your griefs;' atid whereupon 
 Vou cnnjurc from the breast of civil peace 
 Such bold hostility, teaching this duteous land 
 Audacious cruelty : If that the king 
 Have any way your good deserts forgot, — 
 Wliicli lie confesseth to be manifold,— 
 He bid-i you name your griefs; and, with all speed. 
 Yon shall have your desues, with interest; 
 And pardon absolute for yourself, and these, 
 Herein nnsled by your suggestion. 
 
 Hut. The king is kind; and, well we know, the 
 king 
 iCnows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
 My lather, and my uncle, and myself, 
 
 'Conduct, experience. ^Felloivship. 'Grievances. 
 
 Did give him that same royalty he wears: 
 
 And, — when he was not six-and-twenty strong, 
 
 Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
 
 A poor unminded outlaw snealdng home, — 
 
 My father gave him welcome to the shore : 
 
 And, — when he heard him swTar, and vow to God, 
 
 He came but to be duke of Lancaster, 
 
 To sue his livery,' and beg his peace; 
 
 With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal, — 
 
 My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd. 
 
 Swore him assistance, and perfo'rm'd it too. 
 
 Now, when the lords and barons of the realm 
 
 Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him. 
 
 The more and less" came in with cap and laiec; 
 
 Met him in boroughs, cities, villages; 
 
 Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes. 
 
 Laid girts before liim, proffered him their oaths, 
 
 tJave hiin their heirs; as pages followed him, 
 
 Even at the heels, in golden multitudes. 
 
 He presently, — as greatness knows itself, — 
 
 Steps me a little higher than his vow 
 
 Made to my father,"whUe his blood was poor. 
 
 Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg; 
 
 And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
 
 Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees. 
 
 That lie too heavy on the commonwealth: 
 
 Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
 
 Over his country's wrongs; and, by his face. 
 
 This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
 
 The hearts of all that he did angle for. 
 
 Proceedetl l^urther; cut me off the heads 
 
 Of all the favorites, that the absent king 
 
 In deputation left behind him here. 
 
 When he was persona! in the Irish war. 
 
 Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this. 
 
 Hot. Then, to the point. 
 
 In short time after, he depos'd the king; 
 
 Soon af^er that, depriv'd him of his lite; 
 
 And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: 
 
 To make that worse, sufler'd his kinsman, March, 
 
 (Who is, if every owner were well placed. 
 
 Indeed his king,") to be ineaged in Wales, 
 
 There without ransom to lie forfeited: 
 
 Disgraced me in my happy victories; 
 
 Sought to entrap me by m'telligence ; 
 
 Rated my uncle from the council-board; 
 
 In rage disniiss'd my father from the court; 
 
 Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong: 
 
 And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out 
 
 Tliis head of safety; and, withal, to pry 
 
 Into his title, the which we find 
 
 Toil indirect for long continuance. 
 
 Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king? 
 
 ]lol. Not so, sir Walter; we'll withdraw awhile. 
 Go to the king; and let there be iuipawn'd 
 Some surety tor a sate return again. 
 And in the morning early shall mine uncle 
 Bring him our purposes; and so farewell. 
 
 Bliint. I would, you would accept of grace and 
 love. 
 
 Hot. And, may be, so we shall. 
 
 Blunt. 'Pray heaven you do ! 
 
 l£.veunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— York. A Room in the Archbisliop's 
 Huuie, 
 
 Enter the Arehbishop uf York, and a Gentleman. 
 
 Areh. Hie, good sir Michael! bear this sealed 
 brief,' 
 With winged haste to the lord mareshal ; 
 This to my cousin Scroop; and all the rest 
 To whom they are directed: if you knew 
 How much they do import, you would make haste. 
 
 Gent. My good lord, 
 1 guess their tenor. 
 
 Arch. Like enough you do. 
 
 To-morrow, good sir Micliael, is a day, 
 Wherein the fortune oi ten thousand" men 
 Must 'bide the touch: For, sir, at Shrewsbury, 
 .\s I am truly given to understand. 
 The king, with mighty and quick-raised power. 
 Meets w-ith lord Harry: and 1 fear, sir Micliael, — 
 What with the sickness of Northumberland, 
 (Whose power was in the first proportion.) 
 And what with Owen ("llendower's absence tiience, 
 (Who witli tlicm was a rated sinew too," 
 
 ^Tlie tielivcry of his lands. ^The greater and the less. 
 ' Letter. '''A strength on which they reckoned. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 337 
 
 And comes not in, o'er-iiil'il l<y liroi>liecies,) 
 I fear the power of Percy is loo weak 
 To wage an instant irial witli the king. 
 
 Gent. Why, pood my lord, you need not fear; 
 tliere's Douglas, 
 And Mortimer. 
 
 Arch. No, Mortimer's not there. 
 
 Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry 
 Percy, 
 And there's my lord of Worcester; and a head 
 Of salli.nt warriors, noble g'fcntlemcn. 
 
 Arck And so there is: but yet the king liath 
 drawn 
 The special head of all the land toRcther: — 
 The pr.Dce of Wales, lord John of Lancaster, 
 
 The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt ; 
 And niany more corrivals, and dear men 
 Of estimation and command in arms. 
 Gait. Doulit not, mj' lord, they shall he well op- 
 
 ])os'd. 
 Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; 
 And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed : 
 For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere (lie kin^ 
 Dismiss his power, he means to visit us,— 
 
 For he hatli heard of our confederacy, 
 
 And 'tis but wisdom to mai;e strong ajrainst 
 
 him; 
 Therefore, make haste: I must so write again 
 To other friciids; and so liirewell, sir Michael. 
 
 [Exeunt severally,. 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Si.'ENE I.— TAc King's Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter Kino Hexkt, Piu\te Henry, Prince John (f 
 Laxcastek, air Walteu Blunt, and Sir Jodm 
 
 f AISTAFF. 
 
 K. Hen. How bloodily the sun besins to peer 
 Above yon bosky * hill ! the day looks pale 
 At his distemperature. 
 
 P. Hen. The southern wind 
 
 Doth play the trumpet to his purposes; 
 And, by nis hollow whistling in the leaves, 
 Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day. 
 
 if. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize; 
 For nothing can seem foul to those that w-in.— 
 
 Trumpet. Enter Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 How now, my lord of \Vorcester1 'tis not well, 
 That you and I should meet upon such terms 
 As now we meet: You have deceiv'd our trust; 
 And make us dofl* our easy robes of peace, 
 To crush our old hmbs in ungentle steel : 
 This is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
 What say you to'f! will you again unkuit 
 This churlish knot of all-abhorred war— 
 And move in that obedient orb again. 
 Where you did give a fair and natural light; 
 And be no more an exhaled meteor, 
 A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
 Of broached mischief to the unborn times? 
 
 Wor. Hear me, mv liege: 
 For mine own part,'! could be well content 
 To entertain the lag-end of my lii'e 
 With quiet iiours; for, 1 do i)rntcst, 
 I have not sought the day of this dislike. 
 
 K. Hen. You have not sought for it! how comes 
 it til en! 
 
 Fat. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, chewet,' peace. 
 
 ffur. It pleas'dVour majesty, to turn your looks 
 Of favor from myself, and all our house ; 
 And yet [ must remember you, my lord. 
 We were the first and dearest of jbur Iri -nds. 
 l''or you, my staflof office did I break 
 In Richard's time; and posted day and iiiL'ht 
 To meet jou on the way, and kiss your hand. 
 When yet you were in place and in account 
 Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
 It was myself, my brotlier, and his son, 
 'I'liat brought you home, and boldly did outdare 
 The dangers of the time: You swore (o us,— 
 And you did sware that oath at Doncaster, — 
 That you did nothing purpose 'gainst tlie state; 
 Nor claim no further than your new-liill'n right, 
 The seat of Gaunt, dukedoin of Lancaster: 
 To this we swore our aid. But, in short .space. 
 It lain'd down fortune showering on your head; 
 And suc.i a Hood of greatness fell on you, — 
 What with our help; what with the absent king; 
 \Vhat with the injuries of a wanton time; 
 The seeming suflerances that you had home; 
 And the contrarious winds, that held the king 
 So long in his unlucky Irish wars. 
 That all in Kngland did repute him dead, — 
 And, from this swarm of liiir advantages, 
 You took occcasion to be quickly woo'd 
 To gripe the general sway into your hand; 
 
 » Woody 
 
 * Put otf. 
 22 
 
 * A chattering bird, a pie. 
 
 Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster; 
 
 And. being led by us, you useil us so 
 
 As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird. 
 
 Used the sparrow; did oppress our nest; 
 
 Crew by our feeding to so great a bulk, 
 
 That even our love durst liot come near your 
 
 sight. 
 For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing 
 We were enlbrced, lor safety sake, to fly 
 Out of your sight, and raise this present head: 
 Wherel;y we stand opposed by such means 
 .\s you yourself have forged against yourself; 
 liy unkind usage, dangeroiis countenance, 
 .\nd violation of all liiitii and troth 
 Sworn to us in your younger entcrprize. 
 
 K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articu- 
 lated,' 
 Proclaim'd at markct-cros.<!e?, read in churches; 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 With some line color, that may please the eye 
 (If fickle changelings, and poor discontents, 
 Wliicii gape, and rub the elbow, al the news 
 Of burlyburly innovation: 
 And never yet did insnrreeliiin want 
 Such water-colors, to impaint liis cause; 
 Nor moody beggars, starving lor a time 
 Of pellmell havock and coni'usion. 
 
 P. Hen. In l.'otli our armies, there is many a soul, 
 Shall i)ay full dearly for this encounter. 
 If onee they join in trial. Tell your nephew. 
 The prince of Vv'ales doth join with all the world 
 In praise of Henry Percy; lij my hopes, — 
 This present entcrprize "set oif his head, — 
 I do not think, a braver gentleman, 
 More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, 
 INIore daring, or more bold, is now alive. 
 To grace tliis latter age wiUi noble deeds. 
 For my part, I may speak it to my shame, 
 I have a truant been to chivalry; 
 And so, I hear, he doth account me too: 
 Yet this belbrc my llithcr's majesty, — 
 I am content, that he shall t;;Ke the odds 
 Of his great name and estiin;ition; 
 And will,' to save the blood on either side, 
 Try fortune with him in a single light. 
 
 K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, to dare we ven- 
 ture thee. 
 Albeit, considerations infinite 
 Do make against it: — No, good Worcester, no, 
 We love our people well; even those we love. 
 That are mislead upon your cousin's part: 
 And, will they take the oiler of our grace. 
 Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man 
 Shall be my frieiid again, aiitl I'll be his: 
 So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
 What lie will do: — But if he will not yield. 
 Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, 
 .And they shall do their othee. So, be gone; 
 We will not now be troubled with reply: 
 We oiler fair, take it advisedly. 
 
 {Ex-eunt Worcester and Veknou. 
 
 P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life: 
 The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
 Are confident against the world in arms. 
 
 A'. Hen. Hence, tlierelbre, every leader lo his 
 charge; 
 
 ° Exhibited in articles. 
 
338 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Aci T. 
 
 For, on their answer, will we set on them : 
 And God befriend ns, as our cause is just! 
 
 [Exeunt King, Bluxt, and I'ri.nce John. 
 
 Ful. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and 
 bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. 
 
 P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee, that 
 friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 
 
 Ful. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exil. 
 
 Ful. 'Tis not due yet; 1 would be loath to pay 
 him before his day. What need 1 be so forward 
 with him that calls not on me ! Well, 'tis no mat- 
 ter; Honor pricks me on. i'ca, but bow if honor 
 prick me oil" when I come on i how then ] Can 
 honor set to a leg"! No. Or an arm! No. Or 
 take away the grief of a wound ! No. Honor 
 iiath no skill in surgery then'! No. Whatishonor! 
 A word. Wliat isin that word, honor! Whatisthat 
 honor! Air. A trim reckoning! Wlio hath it! 
 He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. 
 Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ! Yea, 
 to the dead. But will it not live with the livingl 
 No. Why? Detraction will not sutler it:— there- 
 fore I'll none of it : Honor is a mere scutcheon, 
 and so ends my catechism. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— The Rebel Camp. 
 
 Enter Woucestek and Verxon. 
 
 War. 0, no, my nephew must not know, sir 
 Kicliard, 
 The liberal kind oiler of the king. 
 
 Ver. 'Twere best he did. 
 
 >i'ur. Then are we all undone. 
 
 It is not possible, it cannot be. 
 The king should keep his word in loving us ; 
 He will suspect us still, and find a time 
 To punish this otlence in other faults: 
 Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eves: 
 For treason is but trusted like the fox; 
 Who. ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up, 
 Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 
 Look how we can, or sad, or merrily. 
 Interpretation will misquote our looks; 
 And we shall feed like oxen at a stall. 
 The better cherish'd, still the nearer death. 
 My nephew's trespass may be well forgot. 
 It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood; 
 And an adopted name of privilege, — 
 A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen: 
 All his olTences live upon my liead. 
 And on his father's ; — we did train him on ; 
 And, his corruption being ta'cn from us. 
 We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
 Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
 In any case, the offer of' the king. 
 
 Ver. Deliver v/hat you will, I'll say. His so. 
 Here comes your cousin. 
 
 £nler Hotspur and Douglas; and Officers and 
 Soldiers, behind. 
 
 Hot. My uncle is return'd:— Deliver up 
 My lord of Westmoreland.— Uncle, what news] 
 
 IVur. The king will bid you battle presently. 
 
 Doug. Defy him by tile lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 
 
 JJowj. Marry, and shall,"and very willingly. [i:.ci/. 
 
 IViir. There is no seeming mercy in the king. 
 
 Jliit. Did you beg any! God forbid! 
 
 IVur. 1 told him gently of our grievances. 
 Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus,— 
 By now forswearing that he is forsworn: 
 He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge 
 With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
 Re-enter Douglas. 
 
 Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have 
 thrown 
 A bravo defiance in king Henry's teeth. 
 And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it; 
 Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 
 
 IVm: Tile prince of Wales stepped tbrtli before 
 the king, 
 And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. 
 
 Hat. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads; 
 And that no man might draw short breath to-day, 
 But I, and Harry Monminith! Tell me, fell me. 
 How show'd his tasking ! seem'd it in contempt! 
 
 Ver. No, by my soul ; I never in my life 
 Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, 
 
 Unless a brother should a brother dare 
 
 To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
 
 He gave you all the duties of a man; 
 
 Triinm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; 
 
 Spoke your deservings like a chronicle; 
 
 Making you ever better than his praise, 
 
 lij- still dispraising praise, valued with you: 
 
 And, which became him like a prince indeed, 
 
 He made a blushing citaU of himself; 
 
 And chid his truant youth with such a grace, 
 
 As if he master'd there a double spirit, 
 
 Of teaching, and of learning, instanlly. 
 
 There did he pause: But let me tell the world,— 
 
 If he outlive the envy of this day, 
 
 England did never owe' so sweet a hope, 
 
 So much misconstrued in his wantoness. 
 
 Hat. Cousin, I think, thou art enamored 
 Upon his follies; never did I hear 
 Of any prince, so wild, at liberty: — 
 But, be he as he will, yet once ere night 
 I will embrace him with a soldier's arm. 
 
 That he shall shrink under my courtesy. 
 
 Arm, arm, with speed: And, fellows, soldiers, 
 
 friends. 
 Better consider what you have to do, 
 Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue. 
 Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. 
 
 Hut. I cannot read them now. — 
 gentlemen, the time of life is short; 
 To spend that sliortness basely, were too long, 
 If life did ride upon a dial's point. 
 Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
 An if we live, we live to tread on kings: 
 If die, brave death, when princes die with us! 
 Now for our conscience, — the arms are fair. 
 When the intent of bearing them is just 
 Enter anottier iVIessenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, prepare; thekingcomesonapace. 
 
 Hut. I thank him. that he cuts me from my tale, 
 For I profess not talking; Only this — 
 Let each man do his best; and here draw I 
 .\ sword, whose temper 1 intend to stain 
 With the best blood that I can meet withal 
 In the adventure of this perilous day. 
 Now,— Esperance ." — Percy ! — and set on. — 
 Sound all fhe lolly instruments of war. 
 And by that music let us all embrace: 
 For, liea\en to earth, some of us never shall 
 A second time do such a courtesy. 
 
 [The Trumpets suimd. They embrace, and 
 exeunt. 
 
 SCENE in.— Plain near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Excursions, and Parlies fighting. Alarum to the 
 Battle. Then enter Douglas and Blunt, mecti/ig. 
 
 Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
 Thou crossest me? what honor dost thou seek 
 Upon my head ? 
 
 Duug. Know then, my name is Douglas; 
 
 And I do haunt thee in the battle thus. 
 Because some tell me that thou art a king. 
 
 Blunt. They fell thee true. 
 
 Duug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath 
 bought 
 Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry, 
 This sword hafh ended him:- so shall it thee. 
 Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 
 
 Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot: 
 And thou shall find a king that will revenge 
 Lord Stafford's death. 
 
 [They fight, and Blunt is slam 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Hut. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holraedon 
 thus, 
 I never had triiiinph'd upon a Scot. 
 Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies 
 
 the king. 
 Hut. Where! 
 Duug. Here. 
 
 i/i;/. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full 
 well: 
 A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt: 
 Seinblably furnish'd like the king himself. 
 ' Recital. 6 Own. ' The motto of the Percy family. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING IIENRY IV. 
 
 339 
 
 Doug- A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes, 
 A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear. 
 Why didst thou tell me that tliou \vert a Jdng? 
 
 Hot. The king liatii many niarcliing in his coats. 
 
 Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; 
 ril murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, 
 Until I meet the king. 
 
 Hut. Up, and away ; 
 
 Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. {Exeunt. 
 
 Oilier Alarums. Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, 
 I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon 
 the pate.— Soil! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt; 
 —there's honor for you: Here's no vanity! — I am 
 as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: tiod keep 
 lead out of me ! I need no more weight than mine 
 own bowels. — I have led my raggamuftius where 
 they are pepper'd : there's but three of mj' hundred 
 and titty left alive; and they are for the town'send, 
 to beg during lili;. But who comes here! 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me 
 thy sword: 
 Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
 I'ntler the hoots of vaunting enemies. 
 Whose deaths are unrevenged: Pr'ytliee, lend thy 
 sword. 
 
 Fal. Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe 
 awhde. — Turk Gregory never did such deeds in 
 arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, 
 I have uuide him sure. 
 
 P. Hen. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. 
 Lend me thy sword, I i>r'ythce. 
 
 Fal. Nay, belbre Rod, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou 
 gel'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou 
 milt. 
 
 P. Hen. Give it me: What, is it in the case I 
 
 Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'lis hot! there's that will 
 sack a city. [Tke Prince draws init a buttle rf.mck. 
 
 P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest, and dally now! 
 [Throws it at liim, and exit. 
 
 Fat. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If 
 he do come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come 
 in his, wiUinglj*, let him make a carbonado^ of me. 
 I like not such grinning honor, as sir Walter hath: 
 Give me lite: wliich if I can save, so; if not, honor 
 comes unlook'd for, and there's an end. {Exit. 
 
 RCEJ^EIY.—Anot Iter Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarums. Ej-eursions. Enter the KiNi";, Prince 
 Henuv, Prince John, and Westmoreland. 
 
 A". Hen. I pr'ytliee, 
 Harry, withdraw thyself; thoublced'st too much: — 
 Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 
 
 P. Jultn. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. 
 
 P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up, 
 Lest yovir retirement do amaze your friends. 
 
 K. Hen. I will do so: — 
 Mv lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. 
 
 West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent. 
 
 P. Hen. Lead me, my lord! I do not need your 
 help: 
 And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch sliould drive 
 The prince of Wales from such a held as this; % 
 Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, 
 And rebels' arms triumph in massacres! 
 
 P.Juhn.Vfe breathe too long: — Come, cousin 
 Westmoreland, 
 Our duty this way lies: for God's sake, come. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me, Lan- 
 caster, 
 I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: 
 Belbre, I lov'd thee as a brother, John; 
 But now, I do respect thee as my soul. 
 
 K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point, 
 With lustier maintenance than I did look for 
 Of such an ungrown warrior. 
 
 P. Hen. 0, this boy 
 
 Lends mettle to us all! [Exit. 
 
 Alarums. Enter DonGLAS. 
 Doug-. Anotherldng! they growlikeHydra'sheads; 
 I am the Douglas, latal to all those 
 That wear those colors on them. — What art thou. 
 That counterfeit'st the person of a king ! 
 
 * A piece of meat cut crosswise for the gridiroD. 
 
 K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves 
 at heart. 
 So many of his shadows thou hast met. 
 And not the very king. I have two boys 
 Seek Percy and thyself, about the held: 
 But, seeing thou lall'st on me so luckily, 
 I will assay thee; so defend thjsell". 
 
 Doug. 1 fear, thou art another counterfeit; 
 And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king: 
 But mine, 1 am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be. 
 And thus 1 win thee. 
 
 [Then fight; the King being in danger, 
 enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art 
 like 
 Never to hold it up again ! the spirits 
 Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms: 
 It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee; 
 Who never promiscth, but he means to pay. — 
 
 [They fight; DuvcLAsfiies. 
 Cheerly, my lord; how lares your grace ! — 
 Sir Nicholas (iaw.sey lialh tor'succor sent. 
 And so hath Clitlon ; I'll to Clifton straight. 
 
 K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile: — 
 Thou hast redcem'd tliy lost opinion; 
 And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life, 
 111 this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. 
 
 P. Hen. O, heaven ! they did me too much 
 injury, 
 That ever said, I he.arken'd for your death. 
 If it were so, I might have let alone 
 The insulting Iiand of Douglas over you ; 
 Which would iiave been as speedy in your end, 
 As all the poisonous potions in the world. 
 And sav'd the treacherous labor of }oar son. 
 
 K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to sir Nicholas 
 Gawsey. [Exit King Henry. 
 
 Enter HoTSPtnt. 
 
 Hot. If I mistake not, thou .art Harry Monmouth. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my 
 name. 
 
 Hot. My name is Harry Percy. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, then I see 
 
 A very valiant rebel of the name. 
 I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, 
 To share with me in glory any more : 
 Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; 
 Nor can one England brook a double reign. 
 Of Harry Percy, and the prince of Wales. 
 
 Hot. Nor sliall it, Harry, for the hour is come 
 To end the one of us; And 'would to God, 
 Thy name in arms were now as great as mine ! 
 
 P. Hen. I'll make it greater, ere I part from thee; 
 And all the budding honors on thy crest 
 I'll crop to make a garland for my head. 
 
 Hot. I can no longer brook tiiy vanities. 
 
 [T/ieyfiglit. 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Well said, Hal ! to it, Hal !— Nay, you sliall 
 find no boy's play here, I can tell you. 
 Enter Doiglas ; he fights with Falstaff, u-hofall.^ 
 
 duwn as if he ivere dead, and exit DocoLAs. 
 
 HOTSPl'R M lowtnded, and falls. 
 
 Hot, O.Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my jouth, 
 I better brook the loss of brittle life, 
 Tlian those proud tiUes thou hast won of me; 
 They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword 
 
 mv llesh; 
 
 But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool; 
 And time, that takes survey of all the world. 
 Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy. 
 But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
 Lies on my tongue: — No, Percy, thou art dust. 
 And food for ■ [Dies. 
 
 P. Hen, For worms, brave Percy ; Fare thee well, 
 great heart! — 
 Ill-weav'd amiiition, how much art thou shrunk! 
 When that this body did contain a spirit, 
 A kingdom for it was too small a bound; 
 But now, two paces of the vilest earth 
 Is room enough.— This earth that bears thee dead, 
 Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
 If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
 I should not make so dear a show of zeal: — 
 But let my favors^ hide thy mangled face; 
 And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
 
 2 Scarf, wiih which he covers Percy's face* 
 
340 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Act V". 
 
 For doing tliese fair rites of tenderness. 
 Adieu, and take thy praise with tlice to heaven! 
 Thy ignominy sleep with thee in tlie grave, 
 But not remember'd in thy epitaph! 
 
 [He sees Falstaff on the ground. 
 What! old acquaintance! could not all this (Icsh 
 Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, larewell ! 
 I could have better spared a better rnan. 
 Q, I should have a heavy miss of thee, 
 If I were much in love with vanity. 
 Doath hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, 
 Thoutch many dearer, in this bloody fray: — 
 I'Zmhoweird will I see thee by and by; 
 Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit. 
 
 Fttl. [Rising slowli/.] Enibowellcd! if thou em- 
 l>owcl me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder^me, 
 and eat me too, to-morrow. 'Sbloort, 'twas time to 
 counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid 
 me scot and. lot too. Counterfeit? I lie, I am no 
 counterfeit: To die, is to be a counterfeit; for he 
 is but the counterfeit of a man, wlio liath not the life 
 of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a man 
 thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true 
 and perfect image of lile indeed. Tlie better part 
 of valor is— discretion; in the which better part, I 
 Jiavc saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid of this 
 gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: l!ow, if he 
 should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid, he 
 would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore PU 
 make him sure: yea, and I'll swear I killed him. 
 Why may not he rise, as well as 1 1 Nothing con- 
 futes me but eyes, and noi)ody sees me. Therefore, 
 sirrah, [StaMing him.} with a new wound in your 
 thigh, come you along with me. 
 
 [Takes Hotspur nn his fmck. 
 Re-enter Pkince Hexry and PRiNrE Jonx. 
 
 P. Hen. Come, brotlier John, full bravely hast 
 thou liesh'd 
 Thy maiden sword. 
 
 P. Ju/iii. But, soft! whom have we here? 
 
 Did you not tell me, this lat man was dead ! 
 
 F. Hen. I did; I saw him dead, breathless and 
 bleeding 
 
 T'pon the ground. ■ 
 
 .^rt thou alive? or is it phantasy 
 Tliat plays upon our eyesight? I pr'ythee, speak; 
 We will not trust our eyes, without our ears: — 
 Thou art not what thou secm'st. 
 
 Fat. No, that's certain; I am not a double man: 
 but if I be not J.ack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. 
 Tlierc is Percy: [Throwing the bodii down.] if 
 vour father will do me any honor, so; it not, let him 
 kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either 
 c.u'l. or duke. I can assure you. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw 
 tliee dead. 
 
 Fal. Didst thou? — Lord, lord, how this world is 
 given to lying!— I grant you, I was down, and out 
 of breath; and so was he: but we rose both at an 
 instant, and tought a long hour by Shrewsbury 
 clock. If I may be believed, so; if not, let them, 
 that should reward valor, bear the sin upon their 
 own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him 
 this wound in the thigh: if the man were alive, 
 and would deny it, I would make him eat a piece 
 of my sword. 
 
 -P.John. Thisisthestrangest tale that e'er I heard. 
 "Salt 
 
 P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brother 
 
 John. • 
 
 Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: 
 I'or my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
 I'll gild It with the happiest terms [ have. 
 
 [A Retreat is sounded. 
 The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours. 
 Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field, 
 To see what ft-iends are living, who are dead. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince Jonx. 
 
 Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that 
 
 rewards me God reward him! If I do grow great, 
 
 I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and 
 
 live cleanly, as a nobleman should do. 
 
 [Exit, bearing off ttie body. 
 
 SCENE 'V. —Another Part of the Field. 
 
 The Trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Prince 
 
 Henry, Prince John, Westiiorei,and, andothers; 
 
 u'ilh Worcester an I Vernon, Prisoners. 
 
 K. Hrn. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. — 
 I'U-spirilcd Worcester! did we not send grace. 
 Pardon, and terms of love to nil of you? 
 And wouldst thou turn our oilers contrary? 
 Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust? 
 Tlni'e knights upon our party slain to-day, 
 A noble earl, and many a creature else, 
 UiitA been alive this hour. 
 If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne 
 Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 
 
 JVor. What I have done, my safety urged me to; 
 And I embrace this lortune patiently. 
 Since not to be avoided it falls en me. 
 
 K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Ver- 
 non too: 
 Other offenders we will pause upon. — 
 
 [Exeunt Worcester crad Vernon', guarded. 
 How goes the field ? 
 
 P. Hen. The noble Scot, lotd Douglas, when he 
 saw 
 The fortune of the day quite turn'd ft-om him, 
 The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
 Upon the foot of fear, — (led with the rest; 
 And, liilling from a hill, he was so bruis'd. 
 That the pursuers took him. At my tent 
 The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace, 
 I may dispose of him. 
 
 K.'Hen. Vvfith all my heart. 
 
 P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you, 
 This honorable bounty shall belong: 
 Go to the Douglas, and deliver him 
 Up to his jileasurc, ransomless and free: 
 His valor shoum upon our crests to-day. 
 Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds 
 Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 
 
 K. Hen. Then this remains, that we divide our 
 power. — 
 You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, 
 Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest 
 
 speed. 
 To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop, 
 Who, as we hear, are busily in arms: 
 Myself, — and you, son Harry, — will towards Wales, 
 To light with Glendower. and the earl of March. 
 Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway. 
 Meeting the check of such another day:' 
 And since this business so fair is done. 
 Let us not leave till all our own be won, [Exeunt. 
 
SECOND PART OF 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Suns. 
 
 KiNr. Hexry the ForRTii. 
 
 Henry, Prince of Wulos, oflcrwarcis 
 Kinj; Homy V.; 
 
 Thomas, Duke i-j^'Ciaronce; 
 
 PitixcE John, fi/'Lanciistor, afterwards ! , •„ 
 (■-' Henry V.) Duke i//' Bcdlbrd; f "" 
 
 Prince IIlmpurey of Gloster, after- 
 wards (-2 Henry V.) Duke of 
 Gloster. 
 
 Earl OF VVaiiwick; ■) 
 
 Earl OP Westmurelank; ( .- ,.„ .- , -„ n„„/, 
 
 (iowER; f "J ''^^ Ai«s* Partij. 
 
 Harcoprt; J 
 
 Lord Cliief Justice ofllie A^?)g■V Bench. 
 
 A Gentleman, attemling on tlie Chief Justice. 
 
 Earl op Northpmberlami;" 
 
 Scroop, Arcli'jistiup nf York; 
 
 LORO Mowbray; 
 
 Lord Hastincs; 
 
 LORO Bardolpu; 
 
 .Sir John Colevile; 
 
 Enem iis to tlic King. 
 
 Travers and Morto.v, Domestics of Northumber- 
 land. 
 
 Falstapf, Bardolpii, Pistol, and Page. 
 
 PuiNS and Pe](i, A/trntlanfs on Prince Hcni-y. 
 
 .'^!lALLo\v and Sii.KNCE, Countri/ JusHces. 
 
 Daw, Serrant to .Sliallow. 
 
 MoLLDY, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bullcalf, 
 Jiecruits. 
 
 Fang and S.nare, Slienff''s Officers. 
 
 Rumor. 
 
 A Porter. 
 
 A Dancer, Sjieaker of the Epilogue. 
 
 Lady Northumeeklaxd. • 
 
 Lady Percy. 
 Hostess QncKLV. 
 Doll Tear-SuEET. 
 
 Lords and other Attendants.- Officers, Soldiers, Mes- 
 sengers, Drawers, (jroonis, di-c. 
 
 SCENE, England. 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 Warkworlh. Bf/oreNortluimUoriar.d's Castle. 
 Enter Rdmor, painted full tf Tongues. 
 
 Rum. Open your ears; For which of you will 
 stop 
 The vent of hearing, when loud Rumor spealis? 
 L from the orient to the drooping west. 
 Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
 The acts commenced on this hall of earth: 
 Upon my tongues continual slanders ride; 
 The which in every language I pronounce, 
 StutHng tlie ears of men vvitli I'alse reports. 
 1 speak of peace, while covert enmity. 
 Under the smile of salety, wounds the world: 
 And vvlio hut Rumor, who hut only 1, 
 Malce fc'arl'ul musters, and prepar'd defence; 
 Wliilst tlie big year, swoU'ii witli some other grief, 
 Is tliought with child by the stem tyrant war, 
 And no such matter ■ Rumor is a pipe 
 Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; 
 And of so easy and so plain a stop. 
 That the blunt monster witli uncounted lieads, 
 The still-discordant wavering multitude. 
 
 Can play upon it. But what need I thus 
 
 M>' well known body to anatomize 
 
 Among my household ! Why is Rumor here] 
 
 1 run before King Harry's victory. 
 
 Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, 
 
 Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops, 
 
 Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
 
 Even with the reljePs blood. But wliat mean I 
 
 To speak so true at first? my office is 
 
 To noise abroad, — that Harry Monmouth fell 
 
 Under the wralli of noble Hotspur's sword: 
 
 And that the king before the Douglas' rage 
 
 Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. 
 
 This I have rumor'd through the peasant towns 
 
 Between that royal field at Shrewsbury 
 
 And this worm-eaten liold of ragged stone, 
 
 Wliere Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, 
 
 Lies craft5-sick: the posts come tiring on. 
 
 And not a man of them brings other news 
 
 Than they have learn'd of me; From Rumor's 
 
 tongues 
 They bring smootli comforts false, worse than true 
 
 wrongs. [Exit. 
 
 ACT! 
 
 SCENE L— Warkworth. Bc/o-re Northumberland's 
 Castle. 
 
 The Porter before the Gate; Enter Lord Bardolph. 
 
 L. Bard. Who keeps the gate liere, lio"!— Where 
 
 is the earl ? 
 Port. What shall I say you are? 
 
 L. Bard. Tell thou the carl, 
 
 That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. 
 
 Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard; 
 Please it your j^onor, kniock but at the gate, 
 And he hinrselt will answer. 
 
 Enter Nokthumberlaxd. 
 L. Bard. Here come tlie carl 
 
342 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 ^urth. What news, Lord Bardolphl every mm- 
 ute now 
 Should l)e the father of some stratagem:^ 
 The times are wild; contention, like a horse 
 Full of high feedin,!?. madly hath broke loose, 
 And bears down all before him. 
 
 L. Bard, Noble earl ; 
 
 1 bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 
 
 North. Good, an heaven will! 
 
 L. Bard. As good as heart can wish: — 
 
 The jvtng is almost wounded to the death; 
 And, in the fortune of my lord your son, 
 Prince Harry slain outri^iht; and both the Blunts 
 Kill'd by the hand of Douglas: young prince John, 
 And Westmoreland, and Stalford, tied the field; 
 And Harry Monmouth''s brawm, the hulk sir John, 
 Is prisoner to your son: 0, such a day. 
 So fought, so foilow'd, and so fairly won, 
 Came not till now to dignify the times, 
 Siiice Ciesar^s fortunes ! 
 
 North. How is this deriv'd? 
 
 Savv you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury? 
 
 L. Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came 
 from thence; 
 A gentleman well bred, and of good narac, 
 That freely renderM me these news for true. 
 
 North. Here comes my servant, T ravers, whom 
 I sent 
 On Tuesday last to listen after news. 
 
 L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; 
 And he is furnish'd with no certainties, 
 More tlian lie haply may retail from me. 
 
 Enter Travers. 
 
 North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come 
 with you \ 
 
 Tra. My lord, sir John Umfrevile tum'd me back 
 With joylul tidings; and, being better horsM, 
 Out-rode me. After him, came, spurring hard, 
 A gentleman, almost torspeut witn speed. 
 That stopjiM by mc to breathe his bloodied horse: 
 He askM the way to Chester; and of him 
 I did demand, wJiat news from Shrewsbury. 
 He told me that rebellion had bad luck, 
 And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold: 
 Witli tliat he gave his able horse the head, 
 And. bending forward, struck his armed heels 
 Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
 Up to the rowel head; and, starting so. 
 He seemM in running to devour the way, 
 Staying no longer question. 
 
 North. Ha ! Again. 
 
 Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
 Of Hotspur, coldspurl that rebellion 
 Had met ill luck? 
 
 L. Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what; — 
 
 If my 3'oung lord your son have not the day, 
 Upon my honor, tor a silken point '^ 
 I'll give my barony: never talk of it. 
 
 North. \Vhy should the gentleman, that rode by 
 Travers, 
 Give then such instances of loss? 
 
 L.Bard. Who, he? 
 
 Ke was some hilding^ fellow, that had stol'n 
 The horse he rode on; and, upon my life. 
 Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. 
 Enter Mortox. 
 
 North. Yea. this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
 /oretells the nature of a tragic volume: 
 So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood 
 
 Halli If^ft a witncss'd usurpation. 
 
 Say. Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? 
 
 Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; 
 Where hateful death put.on liis ugliest mask, 
 To fright our party. 
 
 North. How doth my son and brother? 
 
 Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
 Is apler than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
 Kven such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
 So dull, so dead in look, so wnc-begone, 
 Prew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 
 And wouldhave told him. half his Troy was burn'd: 
 But Priam found the tire, ore he his tongue, 
 And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it. 
 Thisthnuwouldstsay.—Yourson did thus, and thus; 
 Your brother, thus; so fought the'iioble Douglas: 
 
 ' Important or dreadful event. 
 'IliUlerling, base, cowardly. 
 
 ^ Lace taggetl. 
 
 Stopping my greedy car with their bold deeds: 
 But HI the end, to stop mine ear indeed, 
 Thuu hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 
 Ending with — brother, son, and all are dead. 
 
 Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet: 
 But, for my lord, your son,^ — - 
 
 North. Why, he is dead. 
 
 See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath ! 
 He, that but fears the thing he would not laiow, 
 Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes, 
 That wiiat he fear'd is chanced. Yet speakj Morton: 
 Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies; 
 And I will take it as a sweet disgrace. 
 And make thee rich tor doin°: me such wrone^ 
 
 Mor. You are too great to he by mc gainsaid: 
 Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 
 
 North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead 
 I see a strange confession in thine eye; 
 Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin. 
 To speak a truth. If he he -slain, say so: 
 The tongue offends not that reports his death: 
 And he doth siu, that dotb belie the dead: 
 Not he. which says the de.ad is not alive. 
 Yet tlie llrst bringer of unwelcome news 
 Hath but a losing olTice; and his tongue 
 Sounds ever after as a sullen beil, 
 llemember'd knolling a departed friend. 
 
 L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead 
 
 Mor. I am sorry, I should tbrce you to believe 
 That which I would to heaven I had not seen: 
 But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, 
 Rend'rimr faint quittance,' wearied and outbreath'dj 
 To Harry I\Ionmouth: whose swift wTathbeatdown 
 The never daunted Percy to the earlh. 
 From whence with life he never more sprung up. 
 In few, his death, (whose spirit lent a fire 
 Kven to the dullest peasant in his camp,) 
 Being bruited^ once, took fire and heat away 
 From the best tempcr'd courage in his troops: 
 For from his metal was his party steelM; 
 Which once in him abated, all the rest 
 Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. 
 And as the thing that's heavy in itself, 
 Upon enlbrcement, flies with greater speed; 
 So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
 Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear, 
 That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, 
 Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety. 
 Fly irom the field: Then was that noble Worcester 
 Too soon ta'en prisoner: and that furious Scot, 
 The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword 
 Had three times slain tiie appearance of the king, 
 'Gan vail^ his stomach, and did grace the shame, 
 Of tiiose that tuniM tlieir backs; and in his flight, 
 Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all 
 Is, — that the king hath won; and hath sent out 
 A speedy power, to encounter you, my lord, 
 Under the conduct of young Lancaster, 
 And Westmoreland: this is the news at full. 
 
 North. For this I shall have ti me enough to mourn 
 In poison there is physic; and these news, 
 Having been well, that would have made mc sick, 
 Being sick, have in some measure made me well: 
 And as the wretch, whose fever-wcaken'd joints, 
 Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, 
 Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
 Out of bis keepers' arms; even so my limbs, 
 Woakon'd with grief, being nowenraged with grief, 
 Are thrice themselves: hence therefore, thou nice' 
 
 crutch; 
 A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel. 
 Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly quoif, 
 Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, 
 Which princes, flesli'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
 Now bind my brows with iron; and approach 
 The raiTgcd'st hour that time and spite dare brings 
 To frown upon the enraged Northumberland ! 
 Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature's hand 
 Keep the wild flood confined! let order die! 
 And let this world no longer be a stage. 
 To ff'cd contention in a lingering act; 
 But let one spirit of the first-borji Cain 
 Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set 
 On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
 Ami darkness be the burier of the dead! 
 
 Tra. This strained passion doth you ^^Ton^, my 
 lord. 
 
 * Ueturn of bloivg. ^ Keported 
 
 "Let fall. 'Trifling. f* Cap. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 343 
 
 L. Bard. Sweet carl, divorce not wisdom from 
 your honor. 
 
 Mor. The lives of all your loving complices 
 Lean on your health; the which if ycm give o'er 
 To stormy ])aspion, must perforce decay. 
 You cast the oveut of war, my noble lord, 
 And summM the account of chance, before you 
 
 said, — 
 Let us make head. It was your presurmise. 
 That in the dole** of blows your son mijiht drop: 
 You knew, he walkM o'er perils, on an edge, 
 More likely to tiiU in than to get o'er: 
 You were advis'd, his tiesh was capable 
 Of wounds, and scars; and that his forward spirits 
 Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged; 
 Yet did you say, — Go forth; and none of tins, 
 Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 
 The stilT-borne action: Whathatli then befallen, 
 Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, 
 More than that Ijeing which was like to be] 
 
 L. Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss. 
 Knew tJiat we ventured on such dangerous seas, 
 That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one; 
 And yet we ventur'd, for the gain proposM 
 Chok'd the reypect of Hkely peril lear'd; 
 And since we are o'crset, venture again. 
 Come, we will all put forth; body, and goods. , 
 
 Mor. 'Tis more than time: And, my most noble 
 lord, 
 
 T hear for certain and do speak the truth, • 
 
 The gentle archbishop of York is up, 
 With well-appointed powers; he is a man, 
 Wlio with a double surety binds his followers. 
 My lord your son hath only but the corps, 
 But shadows, and the shows of men. to tight* 
 For that same word, rebellion, did divide ' 
 The action of their bodies from their souls: 
 And they did tight with queasiness,' constrain'^d, 
 As men drink potions; that their weapons only 
 Seem'd on our side, but for their spirits and souls, 
 This word, rebellion, it hath froze them up, 
 As fish are in a pond; But now the bishop 
 Turns insurrection to religion: 
 Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts. 
 He's foUow'd both with body and with mind; 
 And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 
 Of fair king Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones; 
 Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause; 
 Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land. 
 Gasping tor life under great Bolinjibroke; 
 And more,'* and less, do Hock to follow him. 
 
 Aorfh. I knew otthis belbre; but, to speak truth, 
 This present grief hath wiped it from my mind. 
 Go in with nrc; iind counsel every man 
 The aptest way for safety, and revenge : 
 Get posts, and letters, and make friends with speed; 
 Never so lew, and never yet more need. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— London. A Street. 
 
 Enter Sir John Falstaff, uuYA Ats Page hearing 
 his Swai'd and Buckler. 
 
 Fat. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to 
 my Vi'ater ! 
 
 Paf^e. He said, sir, the water itself was a good 
 healthy water: but, for the party that owed it, he 
 might have more diseases than he knew for. 
 
 Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird^ at me; 
 The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, 
 is not able to invent any thin|r that tends to laugh- 
 ter, more than I invent, or is invented on me; I am 
 not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is 
 in other men. I do" here walk liel'ore thee, like a 
 sow. that had overwhelmed all her litter but one. 
 If the prince put thee into my service for any other 
 reason than to set mc olf, why then I have no judg- 
 ment. Thou whoreson mandrake,* thou art fitter 
 to be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I 
 was never manned with an agate^ till now: but I 
 will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile 
 apparel, and send you back again to your master 
 for a jewel; the Juvenal, the prince your master, 
 whose chin is not yet Hedged. I will sooner have 
 a beard ^rowin the palm of my hand, than he shall 
 get on his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say 
 his face is a tiicc-royal: God n^ay finish it when he 
 
 ■Distribution. ^Against their stomachs. ''Greater. 
 •Gibe, * A root supposed to have the shape of a man. 
 
 •Alluding to little figures cut in agate. 
 
 will, it is not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still as 
 a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence 
 out of it; and yet he will be crowing as if he had 
 writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He 
 may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of 
 
 mine. I can assure Iiim. What said master Dum- 
 
 bleton about the satin for my short cloak, and slops? 
 
 Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better 
 assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his 
 bond and yours; he liked not the security. 
 
 Fal. Lei him he damned like a glutton! may his 
 tongue be hotter! — A wh<ireson Achitophel! a ras- 
 cally 5'ea-forsooth knave ! to bear a gentleman in 
 hand, and then stand upon security I — The whore- 
 son smooth-pates do not wear nothing but high 
 shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if 
 a man is thorough* with them in honest taking up, 
 then they must stand upon — security. I had a^s lief 
 they wolild put ratsbane in my mouth, as oiler to 
 stop it with security. I looked he should have sent 
 me two-and-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true 
 knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may 
 sleep in security; (or hft hath the horn of abun- 
 dance, and the lightness ui liis wile shines through 
 it: and yet cannot he see, though he have his own 
 lantern "to light him. Where's Bardolph"? 
 
 Page. He's gone into Smilhfield, to buy your 
 worship a hoi*se. 
 
 Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a 
 horse in Smithtield: an 1 could got me but a wife 
 in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.' 
 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an Attendant. 
 
 Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that cotn- 
 mitted the prince Ibr striking him about Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Wait close, I will not see him. 
 
 Ch. Just. What's he that goes there! 
 
 Alttn. Falstalf, an't please your lordship. 
 
 Cli.Just. He tliat was in question for the rob- 
 bery ,' 
 
 Atten. He, my lord: but he hath since done good 
 service at Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going 
 with some charge to the lord John of Lancaster. 
 
 Ch. Just. Whai, to York? Call him back again. 
 
 Allen. Sir John Falstall! 
 
 Fat. Boy, tell him, 1 am deaf. 
 
 Page. You must speak louder, my master is deaf. 
 
 Ch. Just. I am sure, he is, to the hearing of any 
 thing good. — Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must 
 speak with him. 
 
 Atten. Sir John, — 
 
 >fl/. What! a young knave, and beg! Is there 
 not wars? is there not employment? Doth not the 
 king lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? 
 Though it be a shame to he on any side but one, it 
 is worse shame to beg than to be on the worse side, 
 were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell 
 how to make it. 
 
 Aftcn. Y'ou mistake me, sir. 
 
 Fal. Why, sir. did I say jou were an honest man? 
 setting my knigluhood and my soldiership aside, I 
 had lied in my throat if I had said so. 
 
 Alien. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood 
 and your soldiership aside; and give me leave to 
 tell you, you lie in yonrthroat, if you say I am any 
 other than an honest man. 
 
 Fal. I give tiiee leave to tell mc so ! I lay aside 
 tliat which grows to me! If thou get'st any leave 
 of me, hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert 
 better be lianged : Y'ou hunt-counter," hence! 
 avaunt! 
 
 Atlen. Sir, my lord would speak with you. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John Falstalf, a word with you. 
 
 Fal. My good lord!— God give your lordshipgood 
 time of day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: 
 I heard say, your lordship was sick: I hope, your 
 lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, 
 though not clean past your youth, hath yet some 
 smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of 
 time; and I most humbly beseech your lordship, to 
 have a reverend care of your health. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir .John, I sent for you before your 
 expedition to Shrewsbury. 
 
 Fal. An't please \ our lordship, I hear his majesty 
 is returned witli some discomlbrt from Wales, 
 
 6 In their debt. 
 
 ■J Alluding to an old proverb : "^ho goes to Westmin- 
 ster for a wife, to St. Paul's for a man, and to Smithfield 
 for a horse, may meet with a whore, a knave, and a jade 
 
 ^A catch-pole or bailiff. 
 
344 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Ch. Just. I talk not of liis jTiajesty ; — You would 
 not come when 1 sent for you. 
 
 Fat. And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen 
 into this same whoreson apoplexy. 
 
 Ck. Just. Well, heaven mend him ! I pray, let 
 me speak with you. 
 
 Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of le- 
 thargy, an't please your lordship; a kind of sleep- 
 ing in the blood, a whoreson tingling. 
 
 Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it is. 
 
 FoL It hath its original I'rom much gricl"; from 
 study, and perturbation of the brain: I have read 
 the cause of his ctlbcts in Galen ; it is a kind of 
 deafness. 
 
 C/i. Just. I think, you are fallen into the disease ; 
 lor you fiear not what I say to you. 
 
 Fat. Very well, my lord, very well : rather, an't 
 please you, it is tiie disease of not listening, the 
 malady of not marlring, that I am troubled withal. 
 
 Cfi. Just. To punish you by the heels, would 
 amend the attention of your ears; and I care not, 
 if I do become your pbysician. 
 
 Fal. I am as poor as*Job, my lord; but not so 
 patient: your lordship may minister the potion of 
 imprisonment to me, in respect of poverty; but 
 how 1 should be your patient to follow your pre- 
 .scriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scru- 
 ple, or indeed a scruple itself. 
 
 Cfi. Just. X sent for you, when there were mat- 
 ters against you Ibr your life, to come speak with 
 me. 
 
 Fal. As I was then advised by my learned coun- 
 sel in the laws of this land-serviee, I did not come. 
 
 C/i. Just. Well, the truth is, sir John, you live in 
 great inliimy. 
 
 Fal. Ho that buckles him in iny belt, cannot live 
 in less. 
 
 Cfi. Just Your means are very slender, and your 
 .waste is great. 
 
 Fat. I would it were otherwise; I would my 
 means were greater, and my waist slenderer. 
 
 Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince. 
 
 Fat. The young prince hath misled me : 1 am the 
 fellow with the great belly, and he my dog. 
 
 C'A. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a new healed 
 wound : your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a 
 little gilded over your niglit's exploit on Gadshill: 
 you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet 
 o'er-posting that action. 
 
 Fat. My lord ? 
 
 Cti.Jui't. But since all is well, keep it so: wake 
 not a sleeping wolf. 
 
 Fal. To wake a wolf is as had as to smell a fox. 
 
 Oil. Just. What! you are as a candle, tile better 
 part burn out. 
 
 Fal. A wassel candle,' my lord: all tallow: if I 
 did sayof wax, my growth would approve the trutli. 
 
 CA. Just. There is not a white hair on jour face, 
 but sliould have his ellect of gravity. 
 
 Fal. His elfect of gravy, gravy, gravy. 
 
 Cti. Just. You follow the young prince up and 
 down, like his ill angel. 
 
 Fat. Not so, my lord; your ill angel' is light; 
 but, I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me 
 without weighing: and yet, in some respects, I 
 grant, I cannot go, I cannot teil:^ Virtue is of so 
 little regard in these coster-mo;igcr times, tliat true 
 valor is turned bear-head: Pregnacy^is made a 
 tapster, and hath iiis quick wit wasted in giving 
 reckonings: all the other gifts appertiucut to man, 
 as the malice of tliis age shapes them, are not wortli 
 a gooseberry. You, that are old, consider not the 
 capacities of us that are young: you measure the 
 heat of our liver in the bitterness of your galls ; 
 and we that are in tlic vaward* of our youth, I 
 must confess, are wags too. 
 
 Cfi. Just. Do you set down your name in the 
 scroll of youth, that are written down old with all 
 the characters of age] Have you not a moist eye? 
 a dry hand! a yellow cheek ! a white beard ! a de- 
 creasing legl an increasing belly! Is not your 
 voice broken? your wind siiort? your chin double! 
 your wit single ! and every part about you blasted 
 "'""" ' '"" ' ■" ■ " Durscif 
 
 clock 
 
 with antiquity? and will you yet call yo 
 young? Fye, lye, fye, sir John ! 
 
 Fal. My lord, I vvas born about three of the 
 in tlie alternoon, with a white head, and something 
 
 ^ A larf^e canillc for a feast. 'Tite coin calleJ on angel. 
 • I'asa current. ^licaJincss. "'I'oreiiart 
 
 around bellj^. For my voice, — I have lost it with 
 hollaing, and singing of anthems. To approve my 
 youth further, I will not: the truth is, 1 am only 
 old in judgment and uiiderstandiug; and he that 
 will caper with me for a thousantl marks, let him 
 lend me the money, and have at him. Tor the box 
 o'the ear that the prince gave you, — he gave it like 
 a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. 
 I have checked him for it; and the young lion re- 
 pents: marry, not in asiics, and sack-cloth; but in 
 new silk, and old sack. 
 
 CIt. Just. Well, heaven send t!ie prince a better 
 companion! 
 
 Fal. Heaven send the companion a belter prince! 
 I cannot rid my hands of liim. 
 
 Cti.Just. Well, the king hath severed you and 
 prince Harry: I hear you arc going with lord John 
 of Lancaster against the archbishop, and the earl 
 of Northumberland. 
 
 Fal. Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit fof it. 
 But look you pray, all you that kiss my lady peace 
 at home, that our armies join not in a hot day ! tor, 
 by tlie Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and 
 1 mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if it be a hot 
 day, and I brandish any thing but my bottle, I 
 would I might never spit white ."gain. There is 
 not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but 
 I am thrust upon it: Well, I cannot last ever; But 
 it was always yet the trick of our English nation, 
 if they have a good thing, to make it too common. 
 If you will need say, I am an old man, you should 
 gi^e me rest. I would to God, my name were not 
 so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to 
 be eaten to death with rust, than to be scoured to 
 nothing with perpetual motion. 
 
 Ch.Just. Well, be honest, be honest; And God 
 bless your expedition! 
 
 Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand 
 pound, to furnish me forth ? 
 
 Ck. Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too 
 impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: Com- 
 mend me to my cousin Westmoreland. 
 
 [Ereuiit Chief Justice ami Attendant. 
 
 Fal. If I do, fillip me with a tlirce-inan-beetle.° — 
 A man can no more separate ago and covetousness, 
 than he can part young limbs and lechery: but the 
 gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; 
 and so both the degrees prevent" my curses. — 
 Boy ! ■ 
 
 Fage. Sir? 
 
 Fal. What money is in my purse ? 
 
 Page. Seven groats and two-pence. 
 
 Fal. I can get no remedy against this consump- 
 tion of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lin.g- 
 ers it out, but the disease is incurable. — Go bear 
 this letter to my lordof Lancaster; this to the prince: 
 this to the earl of Westmoreland; and this to old 
 mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn lo 
 marry since 1 perceived the tirst wliite hair on my 
 chin: About it; you know where to find me. [Exit 
 Page.] A pox of" this gout! or, a gout of this pox! 
 for the one, or the other, plays the rogue with my 
 great toe. It is no matter if I do halt; I have the 
 wars for my color, and my pension shall seem the 
 more reasonable: A good wit will make use ol'any 
 thing; 1 will turn diseases to commodity.' [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— York. A Room in tlie Archbishop's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter tlie .■Ireli'mluip r/ York, t!ie Lords H.istixgs, 
 MowiiRAY, and Bardolph. 
 
 Arcli. Thus have you heard our cause, and known 
 our means; 
 And, ruy most noble friends, I pray you all, 
 SpeaJi plainly your opinions of our hopes; — 
 And first, lord marshal, what say you to it? 
 
 Mow!'. I well allow. I he occasion of our arms; 
 But gladly-would be better sallslled. 
 How, in our means, we should advance ourselves 
 To look with forehead bold and big enough 
 Upon the power and puissance of the king. 
 
 Hast. Our jiresent musters grow upon the file 
 To live-and-twcnty thousand men of choice; 
 And our supplies live largely in the hope 
 (if great Northumberland, whose bosom burns 
 With an incensed fiVe of injuries. 
 
 ^A large n'ooilen hammer, so heavy as to require three 
 men to wielil it. "Anticiiiate. ' I'roflt. 
 
Act II. ScE^l: I. 
 
 a>;G HENKY IV. 
 
 345 
 
 i. Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, 
 standcth tlius: — 
 Whether our present five-and-twcnty tlioupand 
 May iiold up liead without Northumberland, 
 
 Hasl. With him, we may. 
 
 L Bard. Ay, marry, there\s the point: 
 
 Bui if without him we be thought too teeble, 
 My judi^mcnt is we should not step too far 
 Till we had his assistance by the hand : 
 For, in a theme so bloody-fa'ced as this, 
 Conjecture, expectation, and surmise 
 Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; ibr, indeed, 
 It was young Hotspur's case at Slirewsburj". 
 
 L Bard. It was, my lord; who lined himself 
 with hope, 
 Ealin;? the air on promise of supply, 
 Flattering; himst-lf with project of a power 
 Mufh siuiiller than the smallest of his thoughts: 
 And so with ;rrcat imagination, 
 Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, 
 And, winking, lo:ip'd into destruction. 
 
 lla.sf. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt 
 To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope. 
 
 L. Bard, Yes, in this present quality of war; — 
 Indeed the instant action (a cause on foot) 
 Lives so in hope, as in an early spring 
 We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit, 
 Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair. 
 That frosts will bite them. Wlien we mean to build, 
 We lirst survey the plot, then draw the model, 
 And when we sec tlie figure of the house, 
 Then must we rate the cost of the erection; 
 Which if we find outweighs ahiUty. 
 WJiat do we then, but draw anew the model 
 In fewer ollices ; or, at least, desist 
 To build at all \ Much more, in this great work, 
 (Which is, almost to pluck a kingdom down, 
 And set another up,) should we survey 
 The plot of situation, and the model; 
 Consent^ upon a sure foundation; 
 Question surveyors; Imow our own estate 
 How able such a work to undergo, 
 To weigh against his opposite; or else, 
 We fortify in paper, and in figures, 
 Using the names of men, instead of men: 
 Like one, that draws the model of a house 
 Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, 
 Givus oVr, and leaves his part-created cost 
 A naked subject to the weepiug clouds. 
 And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. 
 
 Hafit. (iranf, tliat our hopes Cyet likely of fair 
 hirth) 
 Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd 
 
 The utmost man of expectation; 
 
 I tliink, we arc a body strong enough. 
 
 Even as we are, to equal with the king. 
 
 L. Bard. What ! is the king but livc-and-twenty 
 thousai.d! 
 
 Ha&i. To us, no more; nay, not so much, lord 
 Bardolpl). 
 For his divisions, as the times do brawl. 
 Are in three heads: one power against the French, 
 And one against Glendower; perlbrce a lliird 
 JIust take up us: So is the unlirm king 
 In three divided; and his colliers sound 
 With hollow poverty and emptiness. 
 
 Arch. That he should draw his several strength 
 together, 
 AJid come against us in full puissance, 
 Need not be dreaded. 
 
 Ha.st. If he should do so, 
 
 He leaves his back unarmM, the French and Welsh 
 Baying Jiim at ihe heels: never fear that. 
 
 L. Bard. Wlio, is it like, should lead his forces 
 hither! 
 
 IJasf, Tiie duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland: 
 Against the Welsh, himself. and llany Monmouth: 
 But who is substitute 'gainst the French, * 
 I have no certain notice. 
 
 Arch. Let us on; 
 
 And publish the occasion of our arms. 
 The commonwealth is sick of their own choice, 
 Their over-greedy love hath surleited: — 
 An habitation giddy and unsure 
 Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
 thou Ibnd many J^ with what It)ud applause 
 Didst tliou beat heaven witli blessing Jiolingbroke, 
 Beibre he was what thou wouldst have him be! 
 And being now trijnmM* in thine own desires. 
 Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him. 
 That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. 
 So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
 Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; 
 And now thou would'st eat thy dead vomit up, 
 And howl'st, to find it.- What trust is in these 
 
 times'! 
 They that, when Richard livM, would have him die, 
 Are now become enamor'd on his grave; 
 Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head. 
 When through proud London he came sighing on 
 After the admired iieels of Bolingbroke, 
 Cry'st now, O earth, yield us that king ugainy 
 And take thou this/ O thoughts of men accurst! 
 Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, worst. 
 
 Mowb. Shall we go drawournunibers, and set on! 
 
 Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be- 
 gone. [Ejctunl* 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Street. 
 
 Enter Kostcss; Fant., and his Boy, with her; and 
 Snare fuUutuing. 
 
 Host. Master Fang, have you entered tlieactioni 
 
 Fan^. It is entered. 
 
 Host. Wlierc is your yeomen? ^ jg it a lusty yeo- 
 man? will a' stand to't? 
 
 Fang. Sirrah, whereas Snare] 
 
 Host. O lord, ay ; good master Snare. 
 
 Snare. Here, here. 
 
 Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John FalstafT. 
 
 Host. Yea, good master Snare; I have entered 
 him and all. 
 
 Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, 
 for he will stab. 
 
 Host. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stab- 
 bed me in mine own house, and that most beastly; 
 in good faith, a' cares not what mischief he doth, 
 if his weapon be out: he will foin' like any devil; 
 he will spare neither man, woman, nor child. 
 
 Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his 
 thrust. 
 
 Host. No, nor I neither: I'll be at yonr elbow. 
 
 Fang. An I but fist him once; an a' come but 
 within my vice.^ 
 
 ^ Agree. 
 
 "Follower. 
 
 1 Thruit. 
 
 'Grasp. 
 
 Host. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, 
 he's an infinite thing upon my score: — Good mas- 
 ter Fang, hold him sure; — good master Snare, let 
 him not escape. He comes continually to Pie- 
 corner, (saving your manhoods,) to buy a saddle; 
 and he's indited to dinner to the Lnbbar's Head in 
 Lumbert-street, to master Smooth's the silkman: 
 I pray ye, since my cxion is entered, and my case 
 so openly known to the world, let him be brought 
 in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long loan 
 for a poor lone woman to bea r : and I have bornCj 
 and borne, and borne ; and liave been fubbcd oUy 
 and fubbed olf, and fubbed oli; from this day to 
 that day, that it is a shame to lie tiiought on. There 
 is no honesty in such dealing; unless a woman 
 should be made an ass, and a beast,, to bear every 
 
 kTiave's wrong. 
 
 Enter Sir John Falstaff, Page, a7id BAnDOLPii. 
 
 Yonder lie comes; and that arrant malmsey-nose 
 knave, Bardolph, witli him. Do your oflices, do 
 ■your olfices, master Fang, and master Snare; do 
 nie. do me, do me, your ollices. 
 
 Fat. How now 1 whose mare's dead? what's the 
 ma tter ? 
 
 Fa;?g. Sir John, I arrest yo>' at the smt of mis- 
 tress Quickly. 
 
 •■< Foolish multitude. 
 
 * Dressed 
 
34G 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act li. 
 
 Fed. Away, Viirlets!— Draw, Bardolph; cut me 
 ofT the villain^s head ; throw the quean in the 
 clianncl. 
 
 Host. Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee 
 in lite channel. Wilt thou? wilttliou'? tliou bas- 
 tardly rogue! — Murder, murder! i) thou honey- 
 Buckle* villain! wilt thou kill God's ofliccrs, arid 
 the king''s] thou honey^-^eed^ ro^^ue! thou art a 
 honey-seed; a man-queller. and a woman-queller. 
 
 Fat. Keep them oil" Bardolph. 
 
 Funif. A rescue! a rescue! 
 
 Host. Good people, brinj; a rescue or two. — Thou 
 "wo't, woH thou! thou wo't, wo't thou? do, do, 
 thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed! 
 
 Fat. Away, you scullion! you rampallion! you 
 fust larian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. 
 
 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, atteiided, 
 
 Vk. Just. Whafs the matter? keep the peace 
 here, ho ! 
 
 Hffst. Good my lord, be good to me! I beseech you! 
 
 C/i. Just. Hovv now, sir JoJm? what, are you 
 brawling here? 
 Doth this become your place, your time, and busi- 
 
 ' ness ? 
 You should have been well on your way to York. — 
 Stand from him, fellow; Vvherefore liang'st thou 
 on him? 
 
 Host. my most worshipful lord, an't please your 
 grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is 
 arrested at my suit. 
 
 Ch. Just. For what sum? 
 
 Host. It is more than for some, my lord ; it is for 
 all, all I have: he hath eaten me out of house and 
 home: he hath put all my substance into that fat 
 belly of his: — but I will have some of it out again, 
 or ril ride Uiee 6'nights. like the marc. 
 
 Fill. I think, I am as like to ride the mare, if I 
 have any vantage of ground to get up. 
 
 C/(. Just. How comes this, sir John? Fye! what 
 man of good temper would endure this tempest of 
 exclamation? Are you not ashamed to eiitorce a 
 poor widow to so rough a course to come by her 
 own? 
 
 Fal. What is the gross sum that I owe thee? 
 
 Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself, 
 and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon 
 a parcel-gilf goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-cham- 
 ber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon 
 Wednesday in Whilsun-w'eek, when the prince 
 broke thy head for liking his father to a singing- 
 man of Windsor: thou didst swear to me then, as 
 I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make 
 me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did 
 not goodwife Kccch, the butcher's wife, come in 
 tlien, and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to 
 borrow a mess of vinegar; telling us, she had a good 
 dish of prawns; whereby thou didst desire to eat 
 some; whereby I told thee, they were ill for a green 
 wound? And didst thou not, when she was gone 
 down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity 
 with such poor people; saying, that ere long they 
 should call mc madam? And didst tlmu not kiss 
 me, and bid me fetch tlicc thirty sliillings? I put 
 thee now to thy hook-oath; deny it, if thou canst. 
 
 Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and she 
 says, up and down the town, that her eldest son is like 
 you : she hath been in good case, and, the truth is, 
 poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolish 
 ofliccrs, 1 beseech you, 1 may have redress against 
 them. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John, sir John. I am well acquainted 
 with your manner of wrenching the true cause the 
 false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the tin-ong 
 of words that come with such more than imputlent 
 sauciness from you, can thrust me from a level con- 
 sideration; you have, as it appears to mc, practised 
 upon the oas'y-yi elding spirit of this woman, and 
 njadc her serve your uses both in purse and person. 
 
 Host. Yea, in troth, my lord. 
 
 Ch. Just. Pr"*y tliee, peace : — Puy her the debt you 
 owe her, and unjiay the viUany you have done 
 wirh her; the one yt>u may do with sterling money, 
 and the other witli current repentance. 
 
 Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap^ 
 without reply. You call Iionorable boldness, im- 
 ^ndentsauciness: ifa man will make court'sy, and 
 
 *Homici '."^l. 
 U';irty gilt. 
 
 f' Homicide. 
 • Suub, check. 
 
 say nothing, he is virtuous: No, my lord, my hum- 
 ble duty remembered, 1 will not be your suitor; I 
 say to you, 1 do desire deliverance from these offi- 
 cers, being upon hasty employment in the king's 
 allairs. 
 
 Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do 
 wrong: but answer in theetfect of your reputation, 
 and satisfy the poor woman. 
 
 J'al. ComehttJier, hostess. [Taking her aside* 
 
 Enter Go^yer. 
 
 Ch.Just. Now. master Go wer; What news? 
 
 Gow. The king, my lord, and Hurry prince of 
 Wales 
 Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells. 
 
 Fal. As I am a gentleman; 
 
 Hast. Nay, you said so belbre. 
 
 Fal. As I am a gentleman; Come, no more 
 
 words of it. 
 
 Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must 
 be fain to pawn both my plate, aiid the tapestry of 
 my dining-chambers. 
 
 Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking: and 
 for thy walls, — a pretty slight drollery, or the story 
 of the prodigal, or the German .hunting in water- 
 work, IS worth a thousand of these bed-hangings, 
 and these fiy-bitleu tapestries. Let it be ten pound, 
 if thou canst. Come, an it v^ere not for thy Jm- 
 mors, there is not a better wench in England.— Go, 
 wash thy face, and draw' thy action: Come, thou 
 must not be in this humor with mc ; dost not know 
 me? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this. 
 
 Host._ Pray tliee, sir John, let it be but twenty no- 
 bles; i'iaith I am loath to pawn my plate, in good 
 earnest, la. 
 
 Fal. Let it alone; Til make other shift; you'll be 
 a fool still. 
 
 Host. Well, 3'ou shall have it, thougli I pawn my 
 gown. I hope you'll come to supper: you'll pay 
 me all together? 
 
 Fal. Will I live?— Go, with lier, with her; [To 
 BAitnoLrn.j hook on, hook on. 
 
 Host. WUl you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you at 
 supper? 
 
 Fal. No more words; lefs have her. 
 
 [Exeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, 
 and Page. 
 
 Ch. Just. I have heard better news. 
 
 Fal. What's the news, my good lord : 
 
 Ck. Just. Where lay the king last night ? 
 
 Gow. At Basingstoke, my lord. 
 
 Fal. I hope, my lord, alPs well: Wiat's the news, 
 my lord? 
 
 Ch. Just. Come all his forces back ? 
 
 Gow. No; fifteen hundred foot, live hundred 
 horse, 
 Are marchM up to my lord of Lancaster, 
 Against Northumberland, and the archbishop. 
 
 Fal. Comes the king back from W^ales, my noble 
 lord? 
 
 Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me presently: 
 Come, go along with me, good master Gower. 
 
 Fal. My lord ! 
 
 Ch. Just. What's the matter? 
 
 Fal. Master Gower, sliail I entreat you with me 
 to dinner? 
 
 Gow. I must wait upon my good lord here: I 
 thank you, good sir John. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being 
 you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go. 
 
 Fal. Will you sup witli me, master Gower? 
 
 Ch-Just. What foolish master taught you these 
 manners, sir John? 
 
 Fal. Master Gower, if they become mc not, he 
 was a fool that taught them mc. — This is the right 
 fencing grace, my lord ; tap for tap, and so part lair. 
 
 CVi. Just. Now the Lord lighten tliee ! thou art a 
 great fool. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCP:NE U.— Another street. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and PoiNS. 
 
 P. Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary. 
 
 Poins. Is it come to that ? I had thought weari- 
 ness durst not have attached one of so high blood. 
 
 P. Hen. 'Faith, it does me; though it discolors 
 the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it 
 Doth it not show vilely in me, to desire small beer! 
 
 Suitably to your char^^cter. 
 
 1 "Withdraw 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 347 
 
 K 
 
 Poins. Wl;y. a prince should not be so loosely 
 studied, as to renieniher so weak a composition, 
 
 P. hen. Belike then, my ai)petite was not 
 princely sot; for, by my troth, I do nowremember 
 the poor "creature, small beer. But, indeed, these 
 humble considerations make me out of love with 
 my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me, to re- 
 men^ bcr thy name? or to know thy face to-morrow? 
 or to take note how many pair of silk stockini^s 
 thou hast; viz. these, and thosethat were the peach- 
 colored ones? or to bear the inventory of thy shirts; 
 as, one for superlUiity, and the other Ibr use? — but 
 that, the tennis-court keeper knows better than I; 
 tor it is a low ebb of linen with thee, when thou 
 keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a 
 
 reat while, because the rest of thy low-countries 
 
 ave made a shift to eat up thy iioUand : and God 
 knows, whether those that bawl out the ruins ol 
 thy linen,= shall inherit his kingdom; but the mid- 
 wives say, the children are not in the fault: where- 
 upon the world increases, and kindreds ave mightily 
 strengthened. 
 
 Foins. flow ill it follows, after you have labored 
 so hard, you should talk so idly? Tell me, how 
 many good young princes would do so, their lathers 
 being so sick as yours at this time is ? 
 
 P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins' 
 
 Pains. Yes; and let it be an excellent good thing. 
 
 P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no iiigher 
 breeding than thine. 
 
 Poins. Go to ; I stand the push of your one thing 
 that you will tell. 
 
 P. flen. Why, I tell thee,— it is not meet that I 
 shoidd be sad, now my fatiierissick: albeit I could 
 tell to thee, (as to one it pleases me, for limit of a 
 better, to call niy friend,) 1 could be sad, and ^ad 
 uideed too. 
 
 Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject. 
 
 P. Hen. Hy this hand, Ihou think^st me as far in 
 the dcviTs book, as thovi and Falstall^ for obduracy 
 and persistency: Let the end try the man. But I 
 tell thee, — my heart bleeds inwardly, that my lather 
 is so sick: and keeping such vile company as 
 thou art, hath in reason taken from me all ostenta- 
 tion of sorrow, 
 
 Poins. The reason? 
 
 P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me, if I 
 should weep? 
 
 Poins. 1 would think thee a most princely hypo- 
 crite. 
 
 P. Hen. It would be every man's thought: and 
 thou art a blessed Icllow, to think as every man 
 tliinks; never a man's thought in the world keeps 
 the road-way better than thine: e\ery man would 
 think me a hypocrite indeed. And what accites 
 your most worshij)ful thought, to think so? 
 
 Poins. Why, because you have been so lewd, and 
 so much engralfed to Falstalf. 
 
 P. Hen. And to thee. 
 
 Poins. Hy this light, I am well spoken of. I can 
 hear it with my own cars: the worst that they can 
 say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that 
 I am a proper fellow of my hantis; and Ihijse two 
 things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here 
 comes Bardoiph. 
 
 P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstall": he had 
 him from me Christian; and look, if the lilt villaix 
 have not transformed him ape. 
 
 Enter BAnDOLPH and Page. 
 
 Bard. 'Save your grace. 
 
 P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardoiph. 
 
 Tiurd. Come, you virtuous ass, [To the Page.] 
 you bashful fool, must you be blushing? whereibre 
 hlush you now ? What a maidenly man at arms 
 are you become! Is it such a matter, to get a pot- 
 tle-pot's maidenhead? 
 
 Page. He called me even now, my lord, through 
 a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face 
 from the window: at last, I spied his eyes; and, me- 
 thought. he had niiide two holes in the ale-wife's 
 new petticoat, and peeped through. 
 
 P. Hen. Hath not the boy prolited? 
 
 Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, 
 away! 
 
 Pase. Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away! 
 
 P. Hen. Instruct us, boy: What dream, boy? 
 
 Page. Marry, my lord, Althca dreamed she was 
 
 ^ Children wrapt up in his old shirtg. 
 
 delivered of a fire-brand; and therefore I call him 
 her dream. 
 
 P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpretation. 
 — There it is, boy. [Gives him money, 
 
 Poins. 0, that this good blossom could be kept 
 from cankers! — Well, there is sixpence to preserve 
 thee. 
 
 Bard. An you do notjjiakc him be hanged among 
 you, the gallows shall have wrong. 
 
 P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardoiph ? 
 
 Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's 
 coming to town ; there's a letter lor you. 
 
 Poins. Deliver with good respect. — And how doth 
 the niartlenias.3 your master? 
 
 Bard. In bodily health, sir. 
 
 Pain.'': Marry, the immortal part needs a physi- 
 cian; but thatinoves not him; though that be sick, 
 it dies not. 
 
 P. Hen. I do allow this wen to be as familiar 
 with me as my dog: and he holds his place; for, 
 look you, how lie writes. 
 
 Pinns. [Reads.] John FalstafT, knight. Every 
 
 man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to 
 name himself Even like those that are kin to the 
 king; for they never prick their linger, but they 
 say, There is some of the king^s bU:od .*<jntt : How 
 eomes that'^ says he, that takes upon him not to 
 conceive: the answer is as ready as a borrower's 
 cap; I am the king''s poor cousin, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will 
 fetch it from .laphet. But the letter:— 
 
 Poins. Sir .Tolin Falstalf, knight, to the son of /he 
 king nearest his father, Harri/ prince of Wales, 
 greeting. — Why, this is a certificate. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace! 
 
 Pt>ins. / icitt imitate the hemorahle Roman in 
 lirevit}/: — he sure means brevity in bre;ith; short- 
 wuidcd. — I commend me to thee, T commend thee, 
 and f trove thee. Be not too familiar loilh Poins; 
 for he mi.viscs thy favors so mucti, tliat tie swears, 
 thou art to marry hi-i sister Nell. Repent at idle 
 times as tliou mayest, avid sofareivelt. 
 
 Tliinc, by yea and no, {which is as much 
 as to say, as tlaiu usest him,) .lack Fal- 
 stiili; with my familiars; John, tuHh 
 my lirot tiers and sisters ; and Sir John 
 icith alt JCaropc. 
 My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and make 
 him eat it. 
 
 P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his 
 words. But do you use me thus, Ned! must I 
 marry your sister? 
 
 Poms. Jlay the wench have no worse fortune! 
 but I never said so. 
 
 P. Hen Well, thus we play the fools with the 
 time; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds 
 and mock us. — Is your master here in London? 
 
 Bard. Yef-. my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed 
 in the old frank?* 
 
 Bard. At the old place, my lord; in East- 
 cheap. 
 
 P. Hen. What company? 
 
 Page. Ephesians, my lord; of the old church. 
 
 P. Hen. .Sup any women with him? 
 
 Page. None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, 
 and mistress Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 P. Hen. Whal pagan may that be? 
 
 Page. A jiroper gentlewoman, sir, and a kins- 
 woman of my master's. 
 
 P. Hen. Even sueli kin, as the parish heifers are 
 to the town bull. — Shall we steal upon him, Ned, 
 at supper? 
 
 Poins. I am your shadow, my lord ; I'll follow 
 you. 
 
 P. Hen, Sirrah, you boy,— and Bardoiph;— no 
 word to your master that I am yet come to town: 
 There's Ibr your silence. 
 
 Bard. I have no tongue, sir. 
 
 Page. And for mine, sir; — I will govern it. 
 
 P. Hen. Fare ye wfU; go. [Exeunt BARDOLrn 
 ff7i(( Pagc.]—This Doll Tear-sheet should be some 
 road. 
 
 Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way 
 between Saint Alban's and London. 
 
 P. Hen. How might we see FalstafT bestow him 
 self to-night in his true colors, and not ourselvea 
 be seen? 
 
 8 Martinmas ; St. Martin's day is Nov. 11. 
 
 •Sty. 
 
348 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Poin.':. Put on two leather jerkins, anj aprons, 
 and wait upon him at liis table as drawers. 
 
 P. Hen. From a god to a luiU! a heavy descen- 
 sion ! it was Jove's case. From a prince to a pren- 
 tice'! a low transformation! that shall he mine: Cor, 
 in every thing, the purpose must weigli with the 
 folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Warkworth. Befure the Castle. 
 
 Enter Northomeerlasd, Lady Noktiiumbeklaxd, 
 and Lady Percy. 
 
 North. I pray thee, loving wile, and gentle 
 daughter. 
 Give even way unto my rough alTairs: 
 Put not you on tlic visage of the times. 
 And he, like them, to Percy troublesome. 
 
 Ladij N. I have given over, 1 will speak no more : 
 Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. 
 
 North. "Alas, sweet wife, my honor is at pawn; 
 And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. 
 
 Lady P. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to tliese 
 wars ! 
 The time was, fiither, that you broke your word, 
 Wiier you were more endcar'd to it than now; 
 When your own Percy, when my heart's dear 
 
 Harry, 
 Threw many a northward look to see his father 
 Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. 
 Who then persuaded you to stay at homel 
 There were two honors lost ; yours, and your son's. 
 For yours, — may heavenly glory brighten it! 
 For his— it stuck upon him. as the sun 
 In the grey vault of heaven: and by his light. 
 Did allthe chivalry of England move 
 To do brajve acts; he was, indeed, the glass 
 Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 
 He had no legs, that practised not Ills gait: 
 And speaking thick, wliich nature made his blemish. 
 Became the accents of the valiant; 
 For those that could speak low, and tardily, 
 Would turn their own perfection to abuse. 
 To seem like him: So that, in sxieech, in gait, 
 In diet, In atlections of delight. 
 In military rules, humors of blood, 
 He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
 Tliat tiishion'd others. And him, — wondrous 
 him ! 
 
 miracle of men! — him did you leave, 
 (Second to none, unseconded by you.) 
 To look upon the hideous god of war 
 In disadvantage; to abide a field. 
 
 Where nothing but tlie sound of PTotspur's name 
 Did seem defensible: — so you left him: 
 Never, never, do his ghost the wrong. 
 To hold your honor more precise and nice 
 With otiiers, tJiau with him; let them alone; 
 The marshal, and the archbishop, arc strong: 
 Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, 
 To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, 
 Have talk'd of Moiunouth's grave. 
 
 North. Beshrew your heart. 
 
 Fair daughter! you do draw my spirits from me, 
 With new lamenting ancient oversights. 
 But I must go, and moot with danger there; 
 Or it will seek me in another place, 
 And fmd me worse provided. 
 
 iMiij N. 0, fly to Scotland, 
 
 Till dial the nobles, and the armed commons. 
 Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
 
 Ladii P. If they get ground and vantage of the 
 king. 
 Then join you with them, like a rib of steel. 
 To make strenglh stronger; but forall our loves. 
 First let them try themselves; so did your sou; 
 He was so sulTer'd; so came I a widow; 
 And never shall have length of life enough. 
 To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, 
 Tliat it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, 
 For recordation to my noble husband. 
 
 North, Come, come, go in with me; 'tis with my 
 mind. 
 As with the tide swell'd up unto its height. 
 That makes a still-stand, running neither way. 
 Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, 
 But many thousand reasons liold me back: 
 
 1 will resolve for Scotland; there am I, 
 Till time and vantage crave my company. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SC ENE I v.— London. A Room in llie Boards Head 
 
 Tavern, in Eastchsap. 
 
 Enter two Drawers. 
 
 1 Draw. What the devil hast thou brought there! 
 opplc-.Johns? thou know'st, sir John cannot endure 
 an apple-John.' 
 
 2 Draw. Mass, thou sayest true: The prmce 
 once sot a dish of apple-Johns before him, and told 
 him, there were live more sir Johns: and, pulling 
 oll'his hat, said, I wUt now tatie my team of these 
 sLc dni, round, old, luilhcr^d l;.ni.Kfits. It angered 
 him to' the heart; but he hath forgot tliat. 
 
 1 Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down: 
 And see if thou canst lind out Sneak's noise;" mis- 
 tress Tear-sheet would lain hear some music. De- 
 spatch:— The room where they supped is too hot, 
 they'll come in straight. 
 
 •> Draw. Sirrah, lierc will be the prince, and_ 
 master 1-oins anon: and they will put on two of 
 our jerkins, and aprons; and sir John must not 
 know of it: Bardolph hath brought word. 
 
 1 Draw. By the mass, here will be old utis:' It 
 will be an excellent stratagem. 
 
 i Draw. I'll see, if I can find out Sneak. [Exit. 
 Enter Hostess and Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 Host. I'faith, sweet heart, methinks now you are 
 in an excellent good tcinperality: your pulsidge 
 beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire: and 
 your color, I warrant you, is as red as any' rose: 
 But, i'laith, you have drunk too much canaries; 
 and that's a marvellous searching wine, .and i\ per- 
 fumes the blood ere one can say,— What's tins'! 
 How do you now ! 
 
 Dolt. Better than I was. Hem. 
 
 Host. Why, that's well said; a good heart's v.'ortli 
 gold. Look, here comes sir John. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, singing. 
 
 Fal. When Arthur first in cour/.— Empty the 
 iovdnn.— And was a ivorthij tiing ■■ [Exit Drawer.] 
 How now, mistress Doll! 
 
 Host. Sick of a calm: yea, good sooth. 
 
 Fal. So is all her sect; an they be once in a 
 calm, they are sick. 
 
 "Doll. You muddy rascal, is tliat all the comfort 
 you give me? 
 
 Fu'. You make iat rascals, mistress Doll. 
 
 Doll. I make them! gluttony and diseases make 
 them ; I make them not. 
 
 Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you 
 help to make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you, 
 Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, 
 grant that. 
 
 D(dl. Ay, marry; our chains, and our jewels. 
 
 Fal. Your brooches, prarls. and owchcs; — for to 
 .serve bravely, is to come halting .off, you know: 
 To come olf'tiie breach with his pike bent bravely, 
 and to surgery bravely ; to venture upon thecharged 
 chambers" bravely: 
 
 Dolt. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang 
 yourself! 
 
 Host. By my troth, this is the old ftshion; j'ou 
 two never meet, but you fall to some discord: j'ou 
 are both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two dry 
 toasts ; you cannot one bear with another's confir- 
 mities. "What the good-year !» one must bear, and 
 that must be you : [To Dull.] you arc the weaker 
 vessel, as they say, the emptier. vessel, 
 
 Doll. Can a wclik empty vessel bear such a huge 
 full hogsheadl there's a s'vhole merchant's venture 
 of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a 
 hulk better stulled in the hold.— Come, I'll be friends 
 with thee. Jack: tbou .art going to the wars; and 
 whether I shall ever see thee again, or no, there is 
 nobody cares. 
 
 Re-enter Drawer. 
 
 Draw. Sir, ancient' Pistol's below, and would 
 sjirak with you. 
 
 Dull. Hang him. swaggering rascal! let him not 
 come hither: it is the foul-mouth'dst vogue in 
 England. 
 
 ' An apple that will keep two years. 
 "Siicak was a street minstrel: a noise of musicmnl 
 anciently signifieil a concert. 
 ' Merry doings. ** Small pieces of ordnance. 
 
 "Mrs.'Quickly's bhmAcr lov gaiijcrc, i. e. po.v. 
 1 linsigu. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 349 
 
 Host. If he swagger, let Iiiiu not come here: no, 
 by my laitii; I must Jive amongst my neighbors; 
 rii no swaggerers : I am in good name and fame 
 with the very best: — Shut tlie door; — tlicre comes 
 no swaggerers iicrc : I Iiave not lived ail this while, 
 to have swaggering now: — Shut the door, I pray 
 you. 
 
 Fai. Dost tliou hear, hostess 1 — 
 
 Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, sir John ; there 
 comes no swaggerers iierc. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hcarl it is mine ancient. 
 
 Host. Tilly-Ially, sir John, never tell me; your 
 ancient swaggerer comes nut m my doors. 1 was 
 belbre master Tisick, tJie deputy, the other daj'; 
 and, as he said to me, — it was no longer ago than 
 Wednesday last, — Nelgh'ior Quickli/, says he ; — 
 master Dumb, our mimster. was by then; — Neigh- 
 bor Quickly, says he, receive thiAe tliat are Civil; 
 for, saith he, you are in an ill name; — now lie said 
 so, I can tell whereupon ; for, says he, you are an 
 honest rconian, and well tkimght on; t hircfore0ile 
 fieed what guests you receire; Receive, says he, no 
 
 swaggering companions. There comes none 
 
 Jiere; — you would bless you to hear what he said: 
 — no, I'll no swaggerers. 
 
 Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess ; a tame cheater,*^ 
 he; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy grey- 
 hound: he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if 
 her feathers turn back in any show of resistance — 
 Call him up, drawer. 
 
 Host, Cheater, call you him? I will bar no 
 honest man my liouse, nor no cheater: But I do 
 not love swaggering; by my troth. I am the worse, 
 when ont' says — swagger: feel, master, howlsh^.ive; 
 look you. I warrant } ou. 
 
 Bull. Sc you do, hostess. 
 
 Host. U" Jl? yea, in very truth, do I, an 't\.ere 
 an aspen leal: I cannot abide swaggerers. 
 
 Enter Pistol, Bardolpu, and Page. 
 
 Pl^t. 'Save yon, sir John! 
 
 Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I 
 , charge you with a cup of sack: do you .discharge 
 upon mine liostess. 
 
 Flit. I will discharge upon her, sir John, with 
 two bullets. 
 
 Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly 
 oDend her. 
 
 Host. Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets : 
 I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no 
 man's pleasure, I. 
 
 Fist. Then to you, mistress Dorotliy; I will 
 charge you. 
 
 Doll. Ciiarge me] I scorn yon, scurvy compan- 
 inu. What! you poor, base, rascally, cJieating, 
 lark-linen mate! Avvay, you mouldy rogue, away! 
 1 am meat for your master. 
 
 Fift. I know you, mistress Dorothy. 
 
 I)oll. Away, you ciit-jnirse rascal! you filthy 
 bung, away! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in 
 your mouldy cliaps, an you play the saucy cuttle 
 with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket- 
 hilt stale juggler, you! — Since when, I pray you, 
 sir !— What, with two points' on your shoulder'! 
 much!* 
 
 P'lst. I will murder your rulT for this. 
 
 F'al. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go 
 oQ'hcre: dischargeyour-self of our company. Pistol. 
 
 Host. No, good captain Pistol; not her", sweet 
 captain. 
 
 Doll. Captain! thou abominable damned cheater, 
 art thou not ashamed to be called — captain"! If 
 captains were of ray mind, they would truncheon 
 you out, lor taking their names upon you before 
 you have earned tliem. You a captain, you slave! 
 Ibr what] lor tearing a poor whore's ruff in a 
 bawdy-house! — He a captain! Hang him, rogue! 
 He lives upon mouldy stewed prunes, and dried 
 cakes. A captain! these villains will make the 
 word captain as odious as the word occupy ; which 
 was an excellent good word before it was ill-sorted: 
 therefore, captains iiad need look to it. 
 
 Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient, 
 
 Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll. 
 
 Fist. Not I: tell thee what, corporal Bardolph;— 
 I could tear her: — I'll be revenged on her. 
 
 Page. Pray thee, go down. 
 
 3 Gamester spaces, marks of bis commission. 
 
 *An expression of disdain. 
 
 Fist. I'll see herdanined first; — to Pluto's damned 
 lake, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures 
 vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down ! down, 
 dogs! down, laitorsis Have we not Hiren here!^ 
 
 Host, Good captain Pecsel, be quiet; it is very 
 late, i'faith: I bescek you now, aggravate your 
 choler. 
 
 Fist. Thescbcgood humors,indeed! Shall pack- 
 horses. 
 And hollov/ pamper'd jades of Asia, 
 Which cannot go but thirty miles a day. 
 Compare with Cassars, and with Cannibals,' 
 And Trojan Greeks'! nay, rather damn them with 
 King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar. 
 Shall we fall Ibul ibr toysi 
 
 Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter 
 words. 
 
 Bard. Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to a 
 brawl anon. 
 
 Fist. Die men, like dogs; give eromis like pins; 
 Have we not Iltren here ! 
 
 Host. 0' my word, captain, there's none such 
 here. What the good-year! do you think I would 
 deny her"! for God's salie, be quiet. 
 
 Fist. Then feed, and be lilt, my fair Calipolis:^ 
 Come, give's some sack. 
 
 Siforluna me lormenta, sperato me cun- 
 tenta.— 
 Fear we broadsides? no, let tlie fiend give fire: 
 Give me some sack;— and, sweetheart, lie thou 
 there. {Laying down his sword. 
 
 Come wc to full points here; and are et ceteraa 
 nothing? 
 
 Fat. Pistol, 1 would be quiet. 
 
 Pkt. Sweet knight, I kiss tiiy neif:» What! we 
 have seen the seven stars. 
 
 Doll. Thrust him down stairs; I caniii)t endure 
 such a fustian rascal. 
 
 Fill. Thrust him domi stairs! know wc not 
 Gallow.ay nags?* 
 
 Fal. Quoit^ him down, Bardolph, like a shove- 
 groat shilling: naj', if he do nothing but speak 
 nothing, he shall be nothing here. 
 
 Bard. Come, get you dow7i stairs. 
 
 Fist. VVhat! shall wc have incision? sliall we 
 
 imbrue ? {Snatching up his sword. 
 
 Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful 
 
 days!' 
 Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds 
 Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, 1 say! 
 
 Host. Here's goodly stutf toward! 
 
 Fnl. Give me my rapier, boy. 
 
 Doll. I pray thee, Jaelc, I pray Ihee, do not draw 
 
 Fal. Get you down stairs. 
 
 {Drawing, and driving Pistoi. mit. 
 
 Host. Here's a goodly tumult! Til forswear keep- 
 ing house, afore I'll be in tiiese tirrits and frights. 
 
 So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up 
 
 your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. 
 {Exeutil I'i.sTOL and Baudolph. 
 
 Doll. I pray thee. Jack, be quiet; the rascal ia 
 gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you. 
 
 Host. Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought, 
 he made a shrcvvd thrust at your belly. 
 
 Re-enter Baiidolph. 
 
 Fal. Have you turned him ont of doors? 
 
 Bard. Yes, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have 
 hurt him, sir, in the shoulder. 
 
 Fat'. A rascal! to brave me! 
 
 Doll. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, 
 poor ape, how thou sweat'st! Come, let me wipe 
 thy liice; — come on, you whoreson chops: — Ah, 
 rogue ! i'faith, I love tlice. Thou art as valorous as 
 Hcctc- of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten 
 times better tlian the nine worthies. Ah, villain ! 
 
 Fal. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a 
 blanket. 
 
 Doll. Do, if thou darest for thy heart: if thou 
 dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. 
 
 Enter Music. 
 Page. The music is come, sir. 
 
 s Traitors, rascals. 
 
 P A quotation from a play of G. Peele's 
 
 " Blunder for Ilanuilial. 
 
 s Parody of a line in the Battle of Alcasar, an old play. 
 
 6 Fist. * Common hacknies. 
 
 ^Throw 'Part of an ancient song. 
 
350 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Fal. Let them plav :— Play, sirs.— Sit on ray knee, 
 Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled trom 
 me like quicksilver. 
 
 Dull. I'faith, and thou followedst him like a 
 church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomev» 
 loar-pig,when wilt thou leave fighting o'days, and 
 foiiuiig o'liights, and begin to patch up thme old 
 body lor heaven! 
 
 Enter behind Prince Hexry and Poiss, disguised 
 like Drawers. 
 Fal. Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a 
 death's head: do not bid me remember mine end. 
 Dull. Sirrah, what humor is the prince of! 
 Fal. A good shallow young fellow: he would 
 have made a good pantler, he would have chipped 
 bread well. 
 Dull. They say, Poins has a good wit. 
 Fal. He a good wit! hang him, baboon! his 
 wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard: there is no 
 more conceit in him, than is in a mallet. 
 Doll. Why docs the prince love him so then! 
 Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness; 
 and he plays at quoits well; and eats conger and 
 fennel; and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dra- 
 gons; and rides the wild mare with the boys ; and 
 jumps upon joint-stools: and swears with a good 
 grace ; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto 
 the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with telling 
 ofdiscieet stories, and such other gambol faculties 
 he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, 
 for the which the prince admits him : for the prince 
 himself is such another; the weight of a hair will 
 turn the scales between their avoirdupois. 
 
 P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel have 
 his cars cut otf! 
 Poins. l.Q-Vs beat him before his whore. 
 P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath not his 
 poll clawed like a parrot. 
 
 Puins. Is it not strange, that desire shotild so 
 many years outlive performancel 
 i-V/.Kiss mc. Doll, 
 
 P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunc- 
 tion! what says the almanac to that! 
 
 Puins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon* his 
 man, be not lisping to his master's old tables; his 
 note-book, his counsel-keeper. 
 Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. 
 Dull. Nay, truly ; I kiss thee with a most con- 
 stant heart. 
 Fal. I am old, I am old. 
 
 Dull. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy 
 young boy of them all. 
 
 Fal. What stutT wilt have a kirtle^of! I shall 
 receive money on Thursday; thou shalt have a cap 
 to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late, 
 we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am gone. 
 Dull. By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping, an 
 thou sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself 
 
 handsome till thy return. Well, hearken the 
 
 end. 
 Fal. Some sack, Francis. 
 
 P. Hen. Puins. Anon, anon. sir. {Advancing. 
 Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's!— And art 
 not thou Poins his brother! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, 
 what a life dost thou load! 
 
 Fal. X better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou 
 art a drawer. 
 
 P. Hen. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you 
 out by the ears. 
 
 Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by 
 my troth, welcome to London.— Now the Lord 
 less that sweet liice of thine! O Jesu, are you 
 ome from Wales ! 
 
 Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majes- 
 ty ^_l,y this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art 
 welcome. [Leaning liis hand upon Doll. 
 
 Dull. How! you fat Ibol, I scorn you. 
 Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your 
 revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take 
 not the heat. 
 
 P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you; how 
 vilely did you spe.ak of me even now, before this 
 honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman! 
 
 tlust. 'Blessing o'your good heart! and so she is, 
 by my troth. 
 Fal. Didst thou hear mel 
 
 P. Hen. Yes; and you Imcw me, as you did 
 when you ran away bv Gads-hill: you knew, I was 
 at your back; and spoke it on purpose to fry my 
 patience. 
 
 Fal. No, no, no; not so; I did not thmli thou 
 wast withm hearing. 
 
 P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the wil- 
 ful abuse; and then I know how to handle you. 
 
 Fat. No abuse, Hal, on mine honor; no abuse. 
 
 P. Hen. Not! to dispraise me; and call me-- 
 pantlcr, and bread-chipper, and I know not what ! 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Hal. 
 
 Poins. No abuse! 
 
 Ful. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, 
 none. I dispraise him before the wicked, that the 
 wicked might not fall in love with him:— in which 
 doing 1 have done the part of a careful friend, and 
 a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks 
 Ibi it. No abuse, Hal;— none, Ned, none;— no, 
 boys, none. 
 
 Pfkien. See, now, whether pure fear, and entire 
 cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous 
 gentlewoman to close with us! Is she of the wicked! 
 Is thine hostess here of the wicked! Or is the boy 
 of the wicked! Or honest Uardolph, whose zeal 
 burns in his nose, of the wicked? 
 
 Pifins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 
 
 Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph ir- 
 recoverable: and his lace is Lucifer's privy kitchen, 
 wliere he doth nothing but roast mall-w^orms. For 
 the boy,— there is a good angel about him; but the 
 devil outbids him too. 
 
 P. Hen. For the women, 
 
 Fal. For one of them,— she is in hell already, 
 and burns, poor soul ! For the other,— I owe her 
 money ; and whether she be damned for that, I 
 know not. 
 
 Host. No, I warrant you. 
 
 Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art 
 quit for that: Marry, there is another indictment 
 upon thee, for sufit-ring flesh to be eaten in thy 
 house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think, 
 thou wilt howl. 
 
 Host. All victuallers do so: What's a joint of 
 mutton or two in a whole Lent! 
 
 P. Hen. You, gentlewoman, 
 
 DoH. What says your grace! 
 Ful. His grace says that which his flesh rebels 
 against. 
 Hust. Who knocks so loud at door! look to the 
 
 * An astronomical term. 
 
 *A short cloak. 
 
 door there, Francis, 
 
 Enter Peto. 
 
 P. Hen. Peto, how now! what news ! 
 
 Pelu. The king, your father, is at Westminster, 
 And there are twenty weak and wearied posts, 
 Come from the north: and, as I came along, 
 I met. and overtook, a dozen captains. 
 Bare-headed, sweating. Imocking at the taverns, 
 \nd asking every one lor sir John Falstalf. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to 
 blame. 
 So idly to profane the precious time: 
 When tempest of commotion, like the south, 
 Borne with black vapor, doth begin to melt, 
 .\nd drop upon our bare unarmed heads. 
 Give me my sword and cloak: — Falstalf, good 
 
 [Ex. P. Hesry, Poixs, Peto, and Bard. 
 Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the 
 night, and .ve must hence, and leave it unpicked. 
 [Knocking heard.] More knocking at the door ! 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph. 
 
 How now! what's the matter! 
 
 Bard. You must away to court, sir, pve?ently; 
 A dozen captains stay at door for you. 
 
 Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah. [To the Page.] 
 Farewell, hostess ;—Farewen, Doll.— You see, my 
 good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: 
 the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action 
 is called on. Farewell, good wenclies: It I be not 
 sent away post, I will see you again ere 1 go. 
 
 Doll. I cannot speak;— If my heart be not ready 
 to burst:— Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thysell. 
 
 Fal. Farewell, larewcll. 
 
 [Exeunt Falstaep, and Bardolph. 
 
 Hust. Well, fare thee well: I h;ivo kniown thea 
 these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but 
 
Act III. Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 351 
 
 an honester, and trucr-hearted man, — Well, fare 
 thee well. 
 
 £arii. [JVithin.] Mistress Tear-sheet,— 
 
 Host. What's the matter? 
 
 Baril. [H''ithin.] Eid mistress Tear-sheet come 
 to my master. 
 Uu.^t. run, Doll, run; run, good Doll. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE l.—A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter King Henry in liis Night-gown with a Page. 
 
 K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of 
 Warwick; 
 But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters. 
 And well consider of them: Make good speed. — • 
 
 {Exit Page. 
 How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep!— Sleep, gentle sleep. 
 Nature's soft nur.se, how have 1 frighted tliee, 
 Tiiat tliou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
 And steep my senses in forgetfuluessi 
 "Why rather, sleep, liest tliou in smoky cribs, 
 Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
 Andhush'd with buzzing niglit-flies to thy slumber; 
 Than in the perfumed chambers of tlie great, 
 Under the canopies of costly state, 
 And luird with sounds of sweetest melody 1 
 O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, 
 In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch, 
 A watch-case, or a common 'larum belli 
 Wilt tliou upon the high and giddy mast 
 Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
 In cradle of the ruJc imperious surge; 
 And in the visitation of the winds 
 Wlio fake the rutjian billows by the top. 
 Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
 \\\\h deal''jiing clamors in the slippery clouds. 
 That, with the hurly," death itself awakes? 
 Ciiiis! thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose 
 To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; 
 And, in the calmest and most stillest night, 
 AVilh all appliances and means to boot, 
 'Deny it to a king! Then, happy low,^ lie down! 
 Uneasy lies the iiead that wears a crown. 
 Enter Warwick and Surrey. 
 
 War. Many good morrows to your majesty ! 
 
 K. Hen. Is it good morrow, lords? 
 
 War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. 
 
 K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my 
 lords. 
 Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? 
 
 War. We have, my liege. 
 
 A". Hen. Then you perceive the body of our 
 kingdom. 
 How foul it is; \\'hat rank diseases grow. 
 And vvilh wliat danger, near the heart of it. 
 
 War. It is but as a body, yet, distcmper'd; 
 Which to his former strength may be restor'd, 
 
 With good advice, and little medicine: 
 
 M\' lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. 
 
 K. Hen. heaven ! that one might read the book 
 of fate; 
 And see the revolution of tlie times 
 Make mountains level, and the continent 
 (Weary of solid firmness) melt itself 
 Into the sea ! and, other times, to see 
 The beachy girdle of the ocean 
 Too wide tiir Neptune's hips; how chances mock. 
 And changes lill the cup of alteration 
 With divefs liijuors! O. if this were seen. 
 The happiest youth, — viewing his progress through. 
 What perils past, what crosses to ensue, — 
 Would sliut the book, and sit him down and die. 
 'Tis net ten years gone. 
 
 Since I'.K-hard, and Northumberland, great friends. 
 Dill li^ast together, and, in two years after. 
 Were they at wars: It is but eight years, since 
 This Percy was tlic man nearest my soul; 
 Who like a brother toil'd in my alTairs, 
 And laid his love and lii'e under my foot: 
 Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard, 
 Gave him defiMiice. But whicli of you was by, 
 (You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,) 
 
 [To Warwick. 
 When Richard, — with his eye brimful! of tears. 
 
 Noise ' Those in lowly situationa. 
 
 Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, — 
 Did speak these words, now prov'd a projjhecy? 
 Nurthumbertand, ttion ladder, by t tie which 
 My antsin Butingbroke ascends my throne; — 
 Though tlien, heaven knows, I had no such in- 
 tent ; 
 But that necessity so bow'd the state. 
 
 That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss: 
 
 Ttie time shall come, tluis did he Ibllow it. 
 
 The time wilt conte, that foul- sin, gathering head, 
 
 Shalt break into corruption: — so went on, 
 
 Foretelling this same time's condition, 
 
 And the division of our amity. 
 
 War. There is a history in all men's lives, 
 Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd: 
 The which observ'd, a man may propliesy. 
 With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
 As yet not come to life; which in their seeds, 
 And weak beginnings, lie intreasured. 
 Such things become the hatch and brood of time; 
 And, by the necessary form of this. 
 King Richard might create a perfect guess. 
 That great Northumberland, tlien false to him. 
 Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness; ' 
 Which should not find a ground to root upon, 
 Unless on you. 
 
 K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? 
 
 Then let us meet them like necessities: 
 And that same word even now cries out on us; 
 Tiiey siiy, the bishop and Northumberland 
 Ale lilty tliousand strong. 
 
 ll'ar. It cannot be, tny lord; 
 
 Rumor doth double, like the voice and echo. 
 The numbers of the fear'd: — Please it your grace, 
 I'o go to bed; upon my life, my lord. 
 The powers that you already have sent forth, 
 Shall bring this prize in very easily. 
 To comlbrt you the more, I have received 
 A certain instance, that Glendower is dead. 
 Your majesty hath been tiiis fortnight ill; 
 And tfie^e uiiseason'd hours, perforce, must add 
 I iito >oiir sickness. 
 
 K. jl(n. I will take your counsel : 
 
 And, were these inward wars once out of hand. 
 We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. 
 
 [Ei-eunt. 
 
 SCENE U.— Court before Justice Shallow's House 
 
 in Gloucestershire. 
 Enter Shallow and Silence, meeting; MorinY, 
 
 Shadow, Wakt, Feeble, Bl-ll-calf, and Servants 
 
 behind. 
 
 Shat. Cotne on, come on, come on ; give me your 
 hand, sir, give me your hand, sir; an ea-rly stirrer, 
 by the rood." And how doth my good cousin 
 Silence? 
 
 Sit. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 
 
 Stial. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? 
 and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god- 
 daughter Ellen? 
 
 Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. 
 
 Shat. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin 
 William is become a good sciiolar : He is at Oiford, 
 still, is he not? 
 
 Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost. 
 
 Shal. He must then to the inns of court, shortly: 
 I w;is once of Clement's Inn; where, I think, they 
 will talk of mad Shallow yet. 
 
 Sil. You were called — lusty Shallow, then, cousin. 
 
 Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and 
 I would have done any thing indeed, and roundly 
 too. There was I, and little John Doit of Statftrd- 
 sliire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pick- 
 bone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man, — you had 
 not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of 
 court again : and I may say to you, we knew where 
 the bona-robas were. Tlien was Jack Falstafl, 
 ® Cross. 
 
352 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 now sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mow- 
 bray, duke of Norlbli;. 
 
 aU. This sir John, cousin, tliat comes liither 
 anon, about soldiers'! 
 
 Hhal. The same sir John, the very same ; I saw 
 him brealc Skosan's licad at tiie court gate, when 
 he was a crack," not tlius high : and the very same 
 day did I fight witli one Sampson Stockfish, a fruit- 
 erer, beliind Gray's Inn. O, the mad days tliat I 
 have spent ! and to see liow many of mine old ac- 
 quaintance are dead! 
 
 Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. 
 
 Slial. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure; 
 death, as the P.salinist saith, i.s certain to all; all 
 shall die. — How a good yoke of bullocks at Stam- 
 ford fairl 
 
 nil. Truly, cousin, I was not there. 
 
 S/uU. Death is certarn.— Is old Double of your 
 town living yet? 
 
 Sil. Dead, sir. 
 
 Shal. Dead!— See, see!— he drew a Kood bow;— 
 And dead!- He shot a line shoot:— John of Gaunt 
 loved him well, and betled much money on his 
 head. Dead!— he would hove clapped 'i the clout 
 at twelve score;' and cariicd you a forehand shaft 
 at fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would 
 
 have done a man's heart good to see. How a 
 
 score of ewes nowl 
 
 nil. Thereafter as tliey be ; a score of good ewes 
 may be wort'i ten pounds. 
 
 bhal. And is old Double dead ! 
 
 Enter Baedolpii, and one with 1dm. 
 
 Sil. Here comes two of sir John Falstafl"'s men, 
 asl think. 
 
 Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I be- 
 seeob you, which is justice Shallow] 
 
 SImI. I am llobcrt Shallow, sir; a poor esquire 
 of this county, and one of the king'sjusticesof the 
 peace: What is your good pleasure with mc'! 
 
 Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you: 
 my captain, sir John Falstalf: a tall- gentleman, 
 by heaven, and a most gallant leader. 
 
 Stial. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good 
 backsword man: How doth the good laiight! may 
 I ask, how my lady his wife doth'! 
 
 Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommo- 
 dated than with a wife. 
 
 Slial. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well 
 said indeed too. Better accommodated! — it is good; 
 yea, indeed, it is: good phrases are surely, and ever 
 were, very commendable. Accommodated! — it 
 comes {wmaccummo-lii; very good; a good phrase. 
 
 Bard. Pardon me, sir: 1 have heard the word 
 Phrase, call you it! By this good day, I know not 
 the phrase: but I will maintain the word with my 
 sword, to be a soldier-lilce word, and a word of ex- 
 ceeding good command. Accommodated; that is, 
 when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or 
 when a man is,— being, — whereby, — he may be 
 thought to be accommodated, wliich is an excellent 
 tiling. 
 
 Enter FaIjSTAff. 
 
 Slizl. It is very just :— Look, here comes good sir 
 John.— Give me your good hand, give me your 
 worship's good hand : IJy my troth, you look well, 
 and bear your years very well: welcome, good sir 
 John. 
 
 Fat. I am glad to see you well, good master 
 Robert Shallow :— Master Sure-card, as I think. 
 
 Shal. No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in 
 commission with me. 
 
 Fut. Good master Silence, it well befits you 
 should be of the peace. 
 
 Sil. Your good worship is welcome. 
 
 Fal. Kye! this is hot weather.— Gentlemen, have 
 yon provided me here half a dozen sullicient men! 
 
 Skill. Marry, have we, sir. Will you siti 
 
 Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. 
 .Shal. Where's the roll! whore's theroin where's 
 the rolll— let mc sec. let me see. So, so, so, so: 
 Yea, marry, sir— Ralph Mouldy :— let them appear 
 
 as I call ; let them do so, let them do so. Let me 
 
 sec; where is Mouldy! 
 
 Moul. Here, an't please you. 
 
 Slial. What think you, sir John: a good limbed 
 fellow: young, strong, and of good friends. 
 
 * Boy. ' Hit the white mark at twelve score yarda. 
 
 2 Brave. 
 
 Fal. Is thy name Mouldy 1 
 Nih^l. Ye.^, an't please you. 
 Fal. '1h~. tiie more time thou w'crt used. 
 Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i'liiith! Ihinga 
 that are inoildy, lack use: Very singular good!— 
 in faith, well snia, sir John; very well said, 
 /■fli. Prick hii;i. [Tu Suallott. 
 
 RIiiul. I was prcked well enough before, an you 
 could have let me rlone: m> old dame will be un- 
 done now, for or.e It do her husbandry, and her 
 drudgery: you need mt iohivt pricked me; there 
 are other men litter to t'O C'lt than I. 
 
 Fal. Go to ; peace, Moui-ly, vo.i shal" gc Mouldy, 
 it is time you were spent. 
 Miiat. Spent! 
 
 Shnl. Peace, fellow, peace, su'^nd a'^ide; Know 
 you where you are'!— For the ^ thcr, ^ir Tobn:— let 
 ine see; — Simon Shadow! 
 
 /'(//. Ay, marry, let me have h-m to sit under: 
 he's like to be a cold soldier. 
 Shal. Where's Shadow ? 
 Shad. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou ! 
 Shad. Jly mother's son, sir. 
 Fal. Thy mother's son! like enough, rnd tliv 
 father's shadow: so the son of the femiJe 's 'he 
 shadow of the male: It is often so, indeed; bu; noi 
 much of the father's substance. 
 Shal. Do you like him, sir John! 
 Fal. Shadow will serve for summer,— prick him 
 
 for we have a number of shadows to fill up thr> 
 
 muster-book. 
 Shal. Thomas Wart! 
 Fal. Where's he '! 
 Wart. Here, sir. 
 Fal. Is thy name Wart' 
 Wart. Yea, sir. 
 
 Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart. 
 Shal. Shall 1 prick him, sir John! 
 Fal. It were superlluous: for his apparel is built 
 upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon 
 pins: prick him no more. 
 
 Slial. lla.ha, ha!— you can do it, sir; you can do 
 it: I commend you well.— Francis Feeble! 
 Fee. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. What trade art thou. Feeble ! 
 Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. 
 Shal. Shall I prick him, sir'! 
 Fal. Y'ou may : but i f he had been a man's tailoi 
 he would have pricked you.— Wilt thou make as 
 many holes in an enemy's battle, as thou hast done 
 in a woman's petticoat '! 
 
 Fee. I will do my good will, sir; you can have 
 no more. , . , 
 
 Fal. Well, said, good woman's tailor! well said, 
 courageous Feeble ! Thou will be as valiant as tho 
 wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse.— 
 Prick the woman's tailor well, master Shallow, 
 deep, master Shallow. 
 Fee. I would. Wart might have gone, sir. 
 Fal. I would thou wert a man's tailor; that thou 
 raight'st mend him, and make him lit to go. I can- 
 not put him to a private soldier, that is the leader 
 of so many thousand: Let that sullice, most forcible 
 Feeble. 
 Fee. It shall suffice, sir. 
 
 Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeole.— 
 Who is next! 
 Shut. Peter Bull-calf of the green! 
 Fal. Y'ea. marry, let us see Bull-calf. 
 Bull. Here, sir. . 
 
 Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow!— Come, prick me 
 Bull-calf till he roar again. 
 Ball. lord! good my lord captain,— 
 Fat. What, dost thou roar before thou art 
 pricked] 
 B\ill. O lord sir! I am a diseased man. 
 jPoi. What disease hast thou] 
 Bull. A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which 
 I caught with ringing in the king's alliiirs, upon his 
 coronation-day, sir. 
 
 Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown ; 
 we will have away thy cold; and I will take such 
 order, tliat thy friends"shall ring for thee.— Is here 
 all] 
 
 Shal. Here is two more called than your num- 
 ber] you must have but lour here, sir;— and so, I 
 pray you, go in with me to dinner. 
 
 Fat. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 353 
 
 tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good troth, 
 master Shallow. 
 
 Skai. O, sir John, do you remember since we lay 
 all nij^ht in the windmill in Saint George's held ? 
 
 Fat. No more of tliat, good master Shallow, no 
 more of that. 
 
 Slial. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane 
 Night-work ahve '\ 
 
 Fal. She lives, master Shallow. 
 
 Skal. She never could away with me. 
 
 FaL Never, never: she would always say, she 
 could not abide master Shallow. 
 
 Shxil. By the mass, 1 could anger her to the heart. 
 She was then a bona-roha. Doth she hold her own 
 wein 
 
 Fal. Old, old, master Shallow. 
 
 Shat. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose 
 but be old; certain she's old; and Iiad Robin Night- 
 work by old Night-work, belorc I came to Clement's 
 Inn. 
 
 Sil. That's fifty-five year ago. 
 
 Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, lljat thou hadst seen 
 that that this knight and I have seen! — Ha, sir 
 John, said I well? 
 
 Fal. We have heard the cliimes at midnight, 
 mastef Shallow. 
 
 Shut. Tliat we have, that we have, that we have: 
 in liiith, sir John, we have; our watch-word was, 
 Hejii, boys.' — Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to 
 dinner: — U, the days that we have seen! — Come, 
 come. [Ex. Kai.stakf, Shallow, and Silence. 
 
 Btdl. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my 
 friend; and here is liiur Harry ten shillings in 
 French crowns lor you. In very trutli, sir, 1 had 
 as lief be iiaaged. sir, as go: and yet, for mine own 
 part, sir, 1 do not care; but, ratlier Ijecause I am 
 unwillmg, and, for mine ovvji part, have a desire to 
 stay witli my friends; else, sir, 1 did not care, for 
 mine own part, so much. 
 
 Bard. Go to; stand aside. 
 
 Maul. And good master corporal captain, for my 
 old dame's sake, stand my friend ; she has nobody 
 to do any thing about her, when 1 am gone: and 
 she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall have 
 forty, sir. 
 
 Bard. Go to; stand aside. 
 
 Fee. By my trotli, 1 care not; — a man can die but 
 once ; — we owe God a death ;— I'll ne'er bear a base 
 mind; — an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: no 
 man's too good to serve his prince ; and, let it go 
 which way it will, he that.dies this year, is quit lor 
 the next. 
 
 Bard. Well said; thou'rt a good fellow. 
 
 Fee. 'Faith, I'll bear no base mind. 
 
 Re-enter Falstafp and Justices. 
 
 Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? 
 
 Slial. Four, of which you please. 
 
 Bard. Sir, a word with yon: — I have three pound 
 to free Mouldy and Bull-calf. 
 
 Fal. Go to; well. 
 
 Shal. Come, sir John, which four will you have? 
 
 Fal. Do you choose lor me. 
 
 Sfial. Marry then,— Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, 
 and Shadow. 
 
 Fal. Mouldy, and Bull-calf: For you. Mouldy, 
 stay at home, still; you are past .service: — and lor 
 your part, Bull-calf, — grow till you come unto it; 1 
 will none of you. 
 
 Stud. Sir Joiin, sir John, do not yourself wrong; 
 they are your likeliest men, and 1 would have yon 
 served with the best. 
 
 Fat. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to 
 choose a man ! Care I lor the limb, the thewes, the 
 stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man ! Give 
 me the spirit, master Shallow. — Here's \V'art; — you 
 . see what a ragged appearance it is: he shall ciiarge 
 you, and discharge you, with the motion of a pcw- 
 
 terer's hammer; come off, and on, swifter than ho 
 that gibbets-on the brewer's bucket. And this 
 same balf-liiced fellow, Shadow, — give me this man; 
 he presents no mark to tlie enemy; the foemaa 
 may with as great aim level at tlie edge of a pen- 
 kuile: And, lor a retreat, how swiftly will this 
 Feeble, the woman's tailor, run oft'! O, give me the 
 spare man, and spare me the great ones. Put mc a 
 calivcr^ into Wart's hand, Bardolph. 
 
 Baril. Hold, Wart, traverse;* thus, thus, thus. 
 
 Fal. C'ome, manage me your calivcr. So: — very 
 well: go to:— very good: — exceeding good.— O, give 
 me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot. 
 — Well said, i'l'aith, Wart; thou art a good scab: 
 hold, there's a tester for thee. 
 
 Shal. He is not his crafts master, he doth not do 
 it right. 1 remember at Mile-end green, (when I 
 lay at Clement's Inn, — 1 was then sir Dagonet in 
 Artluir's show,') there was a little quiver fellow, 
 and 'a would manage you his piece thus: and 'a 
 would about and about, and come you in, and come 
 you in; ra/t, tali, lah, would 'a say ; bounce would 
 'a say; and away again would 'a go, and a'^ain 
 would 'a come: — I shall never see such a fellow. 
 
 Fat. These fellows will do well, master Shallow. 
 — God keep you, master Silence; I will not use 
 many words with you :— Fare you well, gentlemen 
 both: I thank you: I must a dozen mile to-night. 
 .—Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. 
 
 Shal. Sir John, lieaven bless you and prosper 
 your alTairs, and send us peace! As you return, visit 
 iny house; let our old acquaintance be renewed: 
 peradventnre, 1 uiU with you to the court. 
 
 Fal. I would you would, master Shallow. 
 
 ahal. Go to; 1 have spok"e at a word. Faro you 
 well. [Exeunt Shallow a7id Silence. 
 
 Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentleman. On, Bar- 
 dolph; lead "the men away. [Exeunt BahdolI'U, 
 Recruits, <!rr.] As I return, I will letch otf these 
 justices: 1 do see the bottom of justice Shallow. 
 Lord, lord, how subject we old men arc to this vice 
 oflying! Thissamc starved justice hath done noth- 
 ing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, 
 and the Icats lie hath done about TurnbuU-street;' 
 and every tliird word a lie, duer paid to the licarcr 
 than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at 
 Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a 
 cheese-paring: when he was naked, he was, lor all 
 the world, like a Ibrked radish, with a head fantas- 
 ticaly carved upon it with a knife: he was so for- 
 lorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were in- 
 visible: he was the very Genius of famine; yet 
 leclieruus as a monkey, and the whores called him 
 — mandrake : he came ever in the rearward of the 
 Hrshion; and sung those tunes to the over-scutched 
 liuswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and 
 sware— they were his fancies, or his good-nights.' 
 And now is this Vice's dagger' become a squire, 
 and talks so familiarly of .John of Gaunt, as if he 
 had been sworn brother to him: and I'll be sworn 
 lie never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard; and 
 then he burst his head, for crowding among the 
 marshal's men. 1 saw it; and told John of Gaunt, 
 he beat his own iiaiiie:" for you might have truss'd 
 liini, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin: the case 
 of a treble haut-boy was a mansion for him,acourt; 
 and now has he land and beeves. "W^cll; I will be 
 acquainted with him, if I return: and it shall go 
 iiard, but 1 will make him a philosopher's two 
 stones to me: If the young dace be a bait for the 
 old pike, I see no reason, in the law of nature, but 
 I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an 
 end. [Exit. 
 
 ^Musket. *M;irch. *.Vn exhibition of archery. 
 «In Clerkenwell. 'Titles of little poems. 
 
 'A wooUeu dagger like that used I^y the niotU-rii harle- 
 quin. •Giiunt is thill, slender 
 
354 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.—A Forest in Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of YonK,'MosvnnA.Y,UASTi'SGs, 
 afid others. 
 
 Arch. What is this forest callM? 
 
 Uast. 'Tis Gualtree forest, aii't shall please your 
 grace. 
 
 Arch. Here stand, my lord, and send discoverers 
 tbrth, 
 To know the numbers of our enemies. 
 
 Hasf. We have sent forth already. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis well done. 
 
 My friends and brcthern in these great afliiirs, 
 I must acquaint you that I have receivM 
 Ncv/-dateci letters from Northumherland; 
 Tiicir cold intent, tenor, and substance thus: 
 Here doth he wish Iiis person, with such powers 
 As might hold sortance' with his quality, 
 The which he could not levy; whereupon 
 lie is retirM, to ripe his growing fortunes, 
 To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers. 
 That your attempts may overlive the hazard, 
 And fearful meeting of their opposite. 
 
 Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch 
 ground. 
 And dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 llast. Now, what news? 
 
 Mess. West of this forest, scarcely oil' a mile, 
 In goodly Ibrm comes on the enemy: 
 And, by the ground tliey hide, I judge fheirnumber 
 Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thoijsand. 
 Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them 
 out- 
 Lct us sway on, and face them in the field. 
 Enter Westmoreland. 
 
 Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us here? 
 
 M(noh. I think, it is my lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 IVest. Health and lair greeting from our general. 
 The prince, lord John, and duke of Lancaster. 
 
 Arch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in 
 peace : 
 What doth concern your coming? 
 
 ll^csf. Tlien, my lord, 
 
 Unto your grace do I in chief address 
 The substance of my speech. If tiiat rebellion 
 Came like itself, in base and abject routs. 
 Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage. 
 And countenanced by boys and beggary; 
 1 say, if damnM commotion so appeared, " 
 In his true, native, and most proper sliape, 
 Vou, reverend father, and these noble lords, 
 Had not been here, to dress the ugly ibrm 
 Of base and bloody insurrection 
 Witli your fair honors. You, lord archbishop, — 
 Wliosc see is by a civil peace maintaiuM ; 
 Whose beard the silver hand of peace lialli touch'd; 
 Whose learning and gnod letters iH'aci- hath tutorM; 
 Wliose white investments figure iiinorriice, 
 The dove and very blessed spirit ol' jieace,^ 
 Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, 
 Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, 
 Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war? 
 Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, 
 Your pens to lances; and your tongue divine 
 To a loud trumpet, and a point of war? 
 
 A7rh. Wherelbredol this? sotliequestionstands. 
 Brietly to this end: — Wc are all diseased; 
 And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours, 
 Have brougiit ourselves nito a burning fever, 
 And we must bleed (or it: of which disease 
 Our late king, Richard, being inlected, died. 
 Hut. my most noble lord of Westmoreland, 
 1 t;ike not on mo here a!?a physician; 
 Ni)r do 1, as an enemy to peace. 
 Troop in the throngs of military mcti; 
 liut, ratlier, show a while like learful war, 
 To diet rank nnnds, sick ol happiness; 
 And i)urge the ol)struclious, which begin to stop 
 Our very veins of hfe. Hear mc more plainly. 
 
 ^Ue suitable. 
 
 I have in equal balance justly weighM 
 
 Wliat wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we 
 
 sutler, 
 And find our griefs* heavier than our offences. 
 We see which way the stream of time doth run, 
 And are enforced fi'om our most quiet sphere 
 Hy the rough torrent of occasion: 
 And have the summary of all our griefs. 
 When time shall serve, to show in articles: 
 Which, long ere this, we otfer'd to the king, 
 And might by no suit gain our audience: 
 When we are wrongM, and would unfold our griefs, 
 We are denied access unto his person 
 Even by those men that most have done us wrong. 
 The dangers of the days but newly gone, 
 (Whose memory is written on the earth 
 With yet-appearing lilood.) and the examples 
 Of every minute's instance, (present now,) 
 Have put us in these ilt-beseeming arms: 
 Not to break peace, or any branch of it; 
 But to establish here a peace indeed. 
 Concurring both in name and quality. 
 
 West. When ever yet was your appeal denied? 
 Wherein have you been galled by the king? 
 What peer hath been subornM to grate on you? 
 That you should seal this lawless hloody book 
 Of forged rebellion with a seal divine. 
 And consecrate commotion^'s bitter edge? 
 
 Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth, 
 To brother born a household cruelty, 
 I make my quarrel in particular. 
 
 West. There is no need of any such redress; 
 Or. if there were, it not belongs to you. 
 
 Miiwh. Why not to him, in part; and to us all, 
 That feci the bruises of the days belbre; 
 And sutler the condition of these times, 
 To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
 Upon" our honors? 
 
 West. my good lord Mowbray, 
 
 Construe tlie times to their necessities, 
 And you shall say indeed, — it is'the time. 
 And not the king, that doth you injuries. 
 Yet, for your part, it not appears to me. 
 Either from the king, or in the present time, 
 That you should have an inch of any ground 
 To build a grief on; Were you not restor'd 
 To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories, 
 Your noble and ri^ht-well remembered father's? 
 
 Miaob. What thing, in hmKu-. bad my lather lost, 
 That need to be reviv'd, and Inoalird in me? 
 The king, that lovM him, as the state stood then, 
 Was. Ibrce perlbrce, compeil'd to banish him: 
 And then, when Harry Bolingbroke and Jie, — 
 IJeing mounted, and both roused in their seats, 
 Their neighing coursers daring of the spur. 
 Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, 
 Tiicir eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel, 
 And the loud trumpet blowing them togethc; 
 Then, then, when there was nothing could have 
 
 staid 
 My father from the breast of Bolinsrbrokc, 
 O, when the king did throw his warder* down. 
 His own life hung upon the stall' he threw: 
 Then threw he down himself; and all their lives, 
 That by indictment, and by dint of sword, 
 Have since miscarried under Itolingbroke. 
 
 West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you kno^T 
 not what: 
 The earl of Hereford was reputed then 
 In England the most valiant gentleman; 
 Wlio knows, on whom fortune would tlien havrf 
 
 smiled? 
 But if your father had been victor there, 
 He neYr had borne it out of Coventry: 
 For all the country, in a genea'al voice, 
 Cried hate upon Iiim; and all their prayers, and 
 
 love, 
 Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on. 
 And bless'dand graced indeed, more than the king. 
 But tins is mere di;;ression from my purpose. — 
 Here come I from our princely general, 
 
 2 Grievances. 
 
 5 Truncheon 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 355 
 
 To know your griefs; to tell you from his ^race, 
 TJmt he will {iive you audience: and vvliorrin 
 It shall appear that your demands arc just. 
 You shall enjoy them; every tiling set olT, 
 TJiat might so much as think you enemies. 
 
 Moxvb'. But he hath forced us to compel this 
 ofler; 
 And it proceeds from policy, not love. 
 
 West- Mowbray, you overwcen,^ to take it so; 
 This otler conies liom mercy, not irom fear: 
 For, lo! within a ken,* our army lies: 
 Upon my honor, all too confident 
 To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
 Our battle is more full of names than yours, 
 Our men more perfect in the use of arms. 
 Our armor all as strong, our cause the best; 
 Then reason wills our hearts should be as good: — 
 Say you not then, our otler is compellM. 
 
 Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no 
 parley. 
 
 Wesi. That argues but the shame of your offence: 
 A rotten case abides no handling. 
 
 HuJit. Hath the prince John a full commission, 
 In very ample virtue of Jiis father, 
 To hear, and absolutely to determine 
 Of what conditions we shall st^-md upon? 
 
 West. That is intended" in the general's name: 
 I muse,' you make so sliglit a question. 
 
 Arch. Then take, myJord of Westmoreland, this 
 schedule; 
 For this contains our general grievances: — 
 Each several article herein rcdressM; 
 All members of our cause both here and iience, 
 Tliat are insinew'd to this action. 
 Acquitted by a true substantial Jbrm; 
 And present execution of our wills 
 To us, and to our purposes consignM ; 
 We come within our awful banks again. 
 And knit our powers to the arms of peace. 
 
 IVtsi. Tills will I sliow the general. Please you, 
 lords. 
 In sight of both our battles we may meet: 
 And either cud in peace, which heaven so frame! 
 Or to the place of dillinence call the swords 
 Which must decide it. 
 
 Ai'cfi. My lord, we will do so. [Exit West. 
 
 Mowb. There is a tiling within my bosom, tells 
 me 
 That no conditions of our peace can stand. 
 
 Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our 
 peace 
 Upon such large terms, and so absolute, 
 As our conditions shall consist upon, 
 Our peace shall stand as hrm as rocky mountains. 
 
 Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such, 
 That every slight and lalse-derived cause. 
 Yea, every idle, nice,* and wanton reason, 
 Shall, to the king, taste of this action: 
 That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, 
 We shall be winnowM wiih so rough a wind. 
 That even our corn shall seem as light as cliaff, 
 And good from bad lind no partition. 
 
 Aix/i. No, no, my lord; Note this, — the king is 
 weary 
 Of dainty and such picking^ grievances: 
 For he iiath Ibund, — to end one doubt by death, 
 Revives two greater in the heirs of life. 
 And therefore will he wipe his tables' clean; 
 And keep no tell-tale to his memory. 
 That may repeat and history his loss 
 To new rcmombrance: For full well he knows, 
 He caniinl so precisely weed this laud, 
 As his misdoubts present occasion: 
 His Ibes arc so enrooted with liis iriends, 
 That, plucking to unfix an enemy. 
 He doth unfasten sn, and shake a' friend. 
 So tiiat this land, like an olU-nsive wile, 
 That hath enraged him on lo oiler strokes; 
 As he is striking, holds his infant up. 
 And hangs rcsolvM correction in tlic arm 
 That was uprearM to execution. 
 
 Ilafii. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods 
 On late ollcnriers, that he now doth lack 
 The very instruments of chastisement: 
 So that his power, like to a fanglcss lion, 
 JMay uller, but not hold. 
 
 * Think too highly. 
 'Wuiiiler. 
 
 • Iiisigiiiiicaiit. 
 
 s Sight. « Understood. 
 
 6 Trivial. 
 I liook for memorandums. 
 
 Arci'i. 'Tis very true; — 
 
 And Ihercforc be assured, my good lord marshal, 
 If we do now make our atonement well, 
 {>ur peace will, like a broken limb united. 
 Grow stronger for the breaking. 
 
 Mowb. Be it so. 
 
 Here is returnM my lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Re-enter Westmoreland. 
 JVesf. The prince is here at hand: Pleaseth your 
 lordship. 
 To meet his grace just distance 'tween ourarmies! 
 Mowb. Yoiir grace of, York, in God's name then 
 
 set lorward. 
 Arck. Before, and greet his grace: — my lord, wc 
 come. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \l.~~ Another Part of the Forest. 
 
 Enter, from one .^rifte. Mowbray, the ARCnBisnoP, 
 II ASTiscs, and ot ftcrs. • fro7?i the other sffleyPKi^cn 
 John ^^" Lancaster, Wki3TMoreland, Otticers, a/id 
 Attendants. 
 
 P. John. You are v.'ell encounter'd liere, my cou- 
 sin Mowbray: — 
 Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop:^ 
 And so to you, lord Hastings, — and to all.— 
 My lord of Vork. it better siiowM witJi you. 
 When Ihat y()ur Hock, assembled by the bell, • 
 Encircled you to iiear witli reverence 
 Your exposition on the holy text; 
 Than now to see you here an iron man, 
 (Cheering a, rout of rebels with your drum. 
 Turning the word to sword, and lite to death. 
 That man that sits witJiin a monarch's heart, 
 And ripens in the sunshine ol his favor. 
 Would lie abuse the countenance of tiie king, 
 Alack, what mischicls might he set abroach, 
 In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop. 
 It is even so: — Who hath not heard it spoken, 
 How deep you were, within the books of God? 
 To us, the s]H'aker in his parliament; 
 To us, the iuiaginM voice of God Jiimself; 
 The very opener and inlt^lligencer, 
 Between the grace, tfte sanctities of heaven, 
 And our dull workings: O, who shall believe. 
 But you misuse tfie reverence of your place; 
 Employ tiie countenance and grace of iieaven, 
 As a (iilse lixvorilo dolh his prince's name. 
 In deeds dishonorable I You liave taJicn up, 
 Under the countericited zeal of God, 
 The sulijects of his substitute, my liithcr; 
 And, both against the peace of iieaven and him, 
 Have here up-swarm'd tlieni. 
 
 Arch. Good my lord of Lancaster, 
 
 I am not here against your father's peace: 
 But, as I told my hnd of Westmoreland, 
 The time misordcrM doth, in common sense, 
 Crowd us, and crusli us, to this monstrou.s Ibrni, 
 To hold our sali'ty uj). I sent your grace 
 The parcels and particulars of our grief: 
 Tlie which liath been with scorn shovM from the 
 
 court, 
 Whereon this Hydra son of war is born : 
 Whose dangerous eyes may well be charni'd asleep, 
 With grant of our most just and right desires; 
 And true obedience of this madness cured. 
 Stoop tamely to Ilic loot of majesty. 
 
 Mow'', ll not, we ready are to try our fortunes 
 To Ilie last man. 
 
 JIai,f. And though wc here fall down, 
 
 We have suppUcs to second our attempt ; 
 If th.ey miscarry, theirs sliall second them: 
 And so, succcsss of misohief shall be born; 
 And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up. 
 Whiles England sliall have generation. 
 
 P.John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much 
 too siiallow, 
 To sound the bottom of the after-times. 
 
 JVesf. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them di- 
 rectly. 
 JIow far-forlh you do like their articlesi 
 
 P. John- I lilie them aJl, and do allow3 them well* 
 And swear here by the honor of my hh)od, 
 My father's purposes have been mistook; 
 Aud some about him have too lavishly 
 Wrested his meaning and authority. — . 
 My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redrcssM, 
 
 Succession 
 
 •Approve 
 
356 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Upon ray soul, they shall. If this may please you, 
 Discharge your powers unto their several counties, 
 As we will ours: and here, between the armies 
 Let's drink together friendly, and embrace; 
 That all their eyes may bear those tokens home, 
 Of our restored love, and amity. 
 Arch. 1 take your princely word for these re- 
 dresses. 
 F. John. I give it you, and will maintain my 
 word ; 
 And thereupon I drink unto your grace. 
 Hast. Go, captain, [To an Offlcer.] and deliver 
 to the army 
 This news of peace; let them have pay, and part: 
 1 know it will well please them; Hie thee, captain. 
 
 [Exit Otfica: 
 Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland. 
 West. I pledge your grace: And, if you knew 
 what pams 
 I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace, 
 You would drink freely; hut my love to you 
 Shall sliow itself more openly hereafter. 
 Arch. I do not doubt you. 
 West. I am glad of it: — 
 
 Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray. 
 Mowb. You wish me health in very happy sea- 
 son; 
 For I am, on the sudden, something ill. 
 
 Arch. Against ill chances, uie;i are ever merry; 
 But heaviness foreruns the good event. 
 
 West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden 
 sorrow 
 Serves to say thus, — some good thing comes to- 
 morrow. 
 Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. 
 Muwb. So much the worse, if your own rule be 
 true. [Shnuts within. 
 
 P.John. The word of peace is render'd; Hark, 
 
 how tliey shout! 
 Mnwb. This had been cheerful after victory. 
 Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest ; 
 For then both parties nobly arc subdued, 
 And neither party loser. 
 
 P. John. Go, my lord, 
 
 And let our army be dischargbd too. — 
 
 [Exit Wkstmoreland. 
 And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains 
 March by us; tliat we may peruse the men 
 We should have cop'd withal 
 
 Arch. Go, good lord Hastings, 
 
 And, ere they be dismissed, let them marcli by. 
 
 {Exit Hastings. 
 P. John. I trust, my lord, we shall lie to-night 
 together. — 
 
 Re-enter Westmouelakd. 
 
 Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still ] 
 
 West. The leaders, having charge from you to 
 stand, 
 Will not go off until they hear you speak. 
 
 P. John. They know their duties. 
 Re-enter Hastings. 
 
 llcmt. IMy lord, our army is dispers'd already: 
 Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their 
 
 courses 
 East, west, north, south; or, like a school brokeup. 
 Each hurries towards his home, and sporting-place. 
 
 West. Good tidings, iny lord Hastings; lor the 
 which 
 I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:— 
 And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbray, 
 (Jf c.ipita! treason I attacii you both. 
 
 Mnwb. Is this proceeding just and lionorablcl 
 
 West, Is your assembly so! 
 
 Arch. Will you thus break your faith 7 
 
 P. Juhn. I pawn'd thee none: 
 
 I prouiis'd you rediess of these same grievances, 
 Wlioretif you didcomplain; which, by mine honor. 
 I will ]ienorm with a most Christian care. 
 But. for you, rebels, — look to taste the due 
 Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. 
 Most shallowly did you these arms commence. 
 Fondly' brought here, and foolishly sent hence. — 
 Strike up our drums, pursue the scatterM stray; 
 Heaven, and not we, have safely fouglit to-day. — 
 Some guard these traitors to the block of death, 
 Trcasoirs true bed, and yieldcr up of breath. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 'Foolishly. 
 
 SCENE in.— Another Part of the Forest. 
 
 Alarums: Excursions: Enter Falstaff and Cole- 
 vile, meeting. 
 
 Fat. What's your name, sir ! of what condition 
 are you; and of what place, I prayl 
 
 Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is — Colo- 
 vile of the dale. 
 
 Fat. Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight 
 is your degree; and your place, the dale: Colevile 
 shall still be your name,— a traitor your degree; 
 and the dungeon your place, — a place deep enough; 
 so shall you still be Colevile of the dale. 
 
 Cole. Are not you sir John Falstalf! 
 
 Fat. As good a man as he, sir, whoeVr I am. 
 Do ye yield, sir! or shall I sweat Ibr you? If I do 
 sweat, "they are drops of the lovers, aiul they weep 
 for thy death; therelbre rouse up tear and trembling, 
 and do observance to my mercy. 
 
 Cole. I think you are sir John Falstaff: and, in 
 that thought, yield me. 
 
 Fal. 1 have a whole school of tongues in this 
 belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks 
 any other word but my name. An I had but a belly 
 of any indifferency, I were simply the most active 
 fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, my womb, 
 undoes me. — Here comes our general. 
 
 Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, 
 a7i(l others. 
 
 P. John. Theheat is past, follow no furthernow; — 
 Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. — 
 [Exit Westmoreland. 
 Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while ! 
 When every thing is ended, then you come: 
 These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life. 
 One time or other break some gallows' back. 
 
 Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be 
 thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was 
 the reward of valor. Do you think me a swallow, 
 an arrow, or a bullet! have I, in my poor and old 
 motion, the expedition of thought! I havcspeeded 
 hither with the very extremest inch of possibility: 
 I have foundered nine-score and odd posts; and 
 here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and 
 immaculate valor, taken sir John Colevile of the 
 dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy: 
 But what of thatl he savv me, and yielded; that I 
 mayjustlysay with tire hook-nosedfellow of Rome,' 
 — I came, saw, and overcame. 
 
 P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your 
 deserving. 
 
 Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him: 
 and I beseech your grace let it be booked with the 
 rest of this day's deeds; ov by the Lord, I will have 
 it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture 
 on the top of it, Colevile kissing my foot: To the 
 which course, if I be enforced, if you do not all 
 show like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the clear 
 sicy of fame, o'ershining you as much as the full 
 moon doth the cinders of the element, which shew 
 like pins' heads to her; believe not the word of the 
 noble: Therefore let me have right, and let desert 
 mount. 
 
 P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount. 
 
 Fal. Let it shine then. 
 
 P. John. Thine's too thick to shine. 
 
 Ful. Let it do something, my good lord, that may 
 do me good, and call it what you will. 
 
 /'. John. Is thy name Colevile ! 
 
 Cole. It is, my lord. 
 
 P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. 
 
 Fat. And a liimous true subject took him. 
 
 Cole. 1 am, my lord, but as my betters are. 
 That led mc hither : had they been ruled by me. 
 You should have won them dearer than you have. 
 
 Fal. I know not how they sold themselves: but 
 thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself uw;iy ; and I 
 tliank thee for thee. 
 
 Re-enter Westmoreland. 
 
 P. Jottn. Now, have you left pursuit? 
 
 West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. 
 
 P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates, 
 To York, to present execution: 
 Blunt, lead him hence ; and see you guard him sure. 
 [Exeunt some with Colevilh. 
 .\nd now despatch we toward the court, my lords 
 I hear, the king my father is sore sick: 
 ^Julius Cai3ftr. 
 
SCEKI. IV. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 357 
 
 Our news shall go before vis to his majesty, — 
 Which, cousin, you shall bear. — to comlbrt him; 
 And we with sober speed will follow you. 
 
 Fat. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go 
 through Glostershire; and, when you come to court, 
 stand my good lord, 'pray, in your good report. 
 
 P.Johu. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my con- 
 dition,^ 
 Shall better speak of 3'ou than you deserve. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. I would, you had but the wit: 'twere better 
 than your dukedom. — Good Uiith, this same young 
 sober-blooded boy doth not love mc; nor a man 
 cannot make him laugh; — but that's no marvel, he 
 drinks no wine. There's never any of these de- 
 mure boys come to any proof: for thin drink doth 
 so over-cool their blood, and making many tish- 
 meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sick- 
 ness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches: 
 they are generally fools and cowards; — which some 
 of us should be too, but for intlammation. A good 
 sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It as- 
 cends me into the brain; dries me there all the 
 foolish, and dulKandcrudy vapors which environ it; 
 makes it apprehensive, quick, tbrgetive,- full of 
 nimble, tiery, and delectable shapes; which deliv- 
 ered o'er to the voice, (the tongue.) which is the 
 birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property 
 of your excellent shcrris is, — the warming of the 
 blood ; wliich, before cold and settled, lett the liver 
 white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity 
 and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes 
 it course from the inward to the parts extreme. It 
 illumineth the face; which, asa beacon, gives warn- 
 ing to all the rest of this little kingdom, man. to 
 arm; and then the vital commoners, and inland 
 petty spirits, muster me all to their captain, the 
 Iieart ; who, great, and pulled up with this retinue, 
 doth any deed of coura;ie : and this valor comes of 
 sherris: So that skill in the weapon is nothing, 
 without sack; for that sets it a-work: and learning. 
 a mere hoard of gold, kept by a devij; till sack 
 commences it,^ and sets it in act and use. Hereof 
 comes it, that prince Harry is valiant: for the cold 
 blood hedid naturally inherit of his father, he hath, 
 like lean, steril, and bare land, manured. husl)anded, 
 and tilled, with excellent endeavor of drinking 
 good, and good store of Icrtile sherris; that he is 
 become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand 
 sons, the tirst human principle I would teach them 
 should be, — to forswear thin potations, and addict 
 themselves to sack. 
 
 Enter BAHDOLPii. 
 How now, Bardolph ? 
 
 Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone. 
 
 FaL Let them go. I'll through Giostersliire; and 
 there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire; 
 1 have liim already tempering between my finger 
 and my thumb, and sliortly will I seal with liim.^ 
 Come away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Westminster. A Room in thePalacc. 
 
 Enter KiHG Hen'kv, Clarence, Prince Hdmphrey, 
 Wauwick, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give success- 
 ful end 
 To this debate that bleedeth at our doors. 
 We will our youth lead on to higher fields, 
 And draw no swords but what are sanctified. 
 Our navy is address'd.^ our power collected. 
 Our substitutes in absence well invested, 
 And every thing lies level to our wish: 
 Only, we want a little personal strength ; 
 And pause us, till these rebels now afoot, 
 Come underneath the yoke of government. 
 
 War. Both which we doubt not but your majesty 
 Shall soon enjoy. 
 
 A'. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster 
 
 Where is the prince your brotlierl 
 
 p. Humph. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord at 
 Windsor. 
 
 K. Hen. And how accompanied? 
 
 p. Humph. 1 do not know, my lord. 
 
 K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, 
 with him 1 
 
 " In my present temper. ^ Inventive. 
 
 " Brings it into action. 
 
 •,\n allusion to the oUl use of sealing with soft wax. 
 * Ready, prepared. 
 
 P. Humph. No, my good lord, he is in presence 
 here. 
 
 Cla. What would my lord and ftxtherl 
 
 K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of 
 Clarence. 
 How chance, thou art not with the prince, thy 
 
 brother? 
 Ho loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; 
 Thou hast a l)etter place in his alTection, 
 Than ail thy brothers; cherish it, my boy; 
 'And noble olliccs thou mayst eflcct ^ 
 Of mediation, alter I am dead. 
 Between his greatness and thy other brethren : — 
 Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love: 
 Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, 
 By seeming cold, or careless of his will, 
 For he is gracious, if he be observM;* 
 He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
 Open as day for melting charity: 
 Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint; 
 As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
 As liaws congealed in the spring of day. 
 His temper, therelbre, must be well ot)serv'd: 
 Chide him tor (aults. and do it reverently. 
 When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth: 
 But, being moody, give him line and scope; 
 Till that liis passions, like a whale on ground, 
 Conlbund themselves with working. Learn this, 
 
 Thomas, 
 And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends; 
 A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in; 
 That the united vessel of their blood, 
 Mingled with venom of suggestion, 
 (As. force perforce, the age will pour it in,) 
 Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
 As aconitum.3 or rash gunpowder. 
 
 Cla. I shall observe liim with all care and love, 
 
 K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, 
 Thomas I 
 
 Cla. He IS not there to-day ; he dines in London, 
 
 A'. Hen. And how accompanied? canst thou tell 
 that? 
 
 Cla. With Poins, and other his continual fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 A". Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; 
 And he, the noble image of my youth. 
 Is overspread with tliem: Therefore my grief 
 Stretches it-self beyond the hour of death; 
 The blood weeps from my heart, when 1 do shape. 
 In tbrnis imai;inary, the unguided days, 
 And rotten times, "that you shall look upon 
 When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 
 For when his licadsiron;; not hath no curb. 
 When rage and hot blood are his counsellors. 
 When means and lavish manners meet together, 
 O. with what wings shall his alVections fly 
 Towards fronting jiorii and oppos'd decay! 
 
 iVar. My gracious lord, you look beyond him 
 quite: 
 The prince but studies his companions, 
 Like a strangetongue: wherein, to gain the language, 
 'Tis ncedlul that the most immodest word 
 Be look'd upon, and learned: which once attain'd, 
 Your highness knows, comes to no further use, 
 But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms. 
 The prince will, in the perlectncss of time. 
 Cast ofl' ins tbllnwers: and their memory 
 Siiall as a jiattern or a measure live. 
 By which his grace must mete the lives of others; 
 Turning jiast evils to advantages. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave 
 her comb 
 In the dead carrion. — W^ho's here? Westmoreland? 
 
 Enter Westmoreland. 
 West. Health to my sovereign I and new Iiappi- 
 ncss 
 Added to that that I am to deliver! 
 Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand: 
 Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, 
 Are brought to the correction of your law; 
 Tlicre is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed, 
 But peace puts forth her olive every where. 
 The manner how this action hath been borne, 
 Here at more leisure may your highness read; 
 Witii every course, in this particular.* 
 
 2 Has attention shown him. 
 
 3 Wolfs l>ane, a poisonous herb. 
 
 *The lie-tail contained in prince John's letter. 
 
358 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer- 
 bird, 
 Whit-h ever in tlie haunch of winter sings 
 The lilting up of day. Looif! here's more news. 
 
 Enter Harcourt. 
 
 liar. From enemies heaven keep your majesty; 
 And when they stand against you, may tliey tall 
 As those that I am come to tell you of! 
 The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph, 
 VVith a great-power of English, and of Scots, 
 Are by the sherilf of Yorkshire overthrown: 
 The manner and true order of the fight. 
 Tins packet, please it you, contains at large. 
 
 K. Ben. And wherelbre should these good news 
 make me sick! 
 Will fortune never come with both hands full, 
 ]3ut write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
 Slie either gives a stomach, and no food,^ 
 Such are the poor, in health; or else a least. 
 And takes away the stomach, — such are the rich, 
 That have abundance, and enjoy it not. 
 I should rejoice now at this happy news; 
 And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy: — 
 U nie! comenear me.nowl am much ill. [Swuon.^. 
 
 P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty ! 
 
 Cla. "> n>y royal (iither! 
 
 West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look 
 up! 
 
 War. Bo patient, princes; you do know, these fits 
 Are with his highness very ordinary. 
 Stand from him^ give him air; he'll straight be well. 
 
 Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs; 
 The incessant care and labor of his mind 
 llalli wrought the mure," that siiould confine it in, 
 So thin, that life looks through, and will break out. 
 
 1>. Humph. The. people fear me;' for they do ob- 
 serve 
 Unfather'd heirs, and loathly birds of nature; 
 The seasons cliange their manners, as the year 
 Had found some iaonths asleep, and Icap'd them 
 over. 
 
 Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb be- 
 tween:' 
 And the old folk, time's doting chronicle.?, 
 Say, it did so, a litth* time before 
 That ourgreat grauilsire, Kdward,siek'd and died. 
 
 War. Speak lower, princi's, forthe king recovers. 
 
 1'. Humph. Thisapoplex will, certain, be Ins end. 
 
 A'. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me 
 hence 
 Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray. 
 
 [They conreij the King Into an inner part 
 of the riitnn. and place him on. a bed. 
 Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; 
 Unless some dull* and favorable hand 
 Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 
 
 War. Call for the music in the other room. 
 
 K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 
 
 Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. 
 
 IVar. Less noise, less noise. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence? 
 
 Cla. I am here, brollier, full of heaviness. 
 
 P. Hen. How now ! rain within doors, and none 
 abroad! 
 How doth the king? 
 
 P. Humph. Kxceeding ill. 
 
 p. Hen. Heard he the good news yetl 
 
 Tell it him. 
 
 P. Humph. He altcr'd much upon the hearing it. 
 
 p. Hen U he be sick 
 With joy, he will recover without physic. 
 
 War. Not so much noise, my lords: — sweet 
 prince, speak low; 
 The king your lallier is dispos'd to sleep. 
 
 Via. Let us withdraw inio the other room. 
 
 War. Wiirt please your grace to go along with us? 
 
 J'. Hen. No; I will sit and watch hereby the king. 
 [Exeunt all hut P. Hknry. 
 Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, 
 Piciiig so troublesome a bedfellow? 
 (I polish'd perturbation! golden care! 
 That keep'st the ports' of slumber open wide 
 To many a watchful night! — sleep with it now! 
 
 *Wnll. 'Make nie afraid. 
 
 ' An historical fact, on Oct 12, 1411. 
 sjlelauclioly, soolliiag. "GUe3. 
 
 Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet. 
 As he, whose brow, with homely biggin* bound, 
 Snores out the watch of night. majesty ! 
 When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
 Like a rich armor worn in heat of day. 
 That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath 
 There lies a downy leather, which stirs not: 
 Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
 Perforce must move. — My gracious lord! my 
 
 father!— 
 This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep 
 That from this golden rigol' hath divorced 
 So many English kings. Thy due, from me. 
 Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood; 
 Which nature, love, and filial tenderness. 
 Shall, O dear father, pay thee plentoously; 
 My due, from thee, is this imperial crown; 
 Which, as immediate liom thy placeand blood, 
 Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, — 
 
 [Putting it on his head. 
 Which heaven .shall guard: And put the world's 
 
 whole strength 
 Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
 This lineal honor from me: This from thee 
 Will I to mine leave, as 'lis left to me. [Exit. 
 
 K.Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence! 
 Re-enter Warwick, and the rest. 
 Cla. Doth the king call? 
 
 War. What would your majesty? How fares 
 
 your grace? 
 A'. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my 
 
 lords? 
 Cla. We left the prince my brother here.my liege, 
 Who undertook to sit and watch by you. 
 A'. //c;i. The prince of Wales? Where is he? let 
 me see him : 
 He is not here. 
 
 Il'iir. This door is open; he is gone this way. 
 P. Humph. He came not through the chamber 
 
 where we stay'd. 
 A'. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from 
 
 my pillow? 
 Wur. When wc withdrew, my liege, we left i t here. 
 K.Hen. The prince hath ta'enit hence: — go,scek 
 him out; 
 Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose 
 
 My sleep my death? ■ 
 
 Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither. 
 
 [Exit Warwick. 
 This part of his conjoins with my disease, 
 And helps to end me.— See, sons, what things you 
 
 are ! 
 How quickly nature falls into revolt, 
 When gold becomes her object ! 
 Por lliis the Ibolish over-careful fathers 
 Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains 
 
 with care. 
 Their bones with industn,-; 
 For this they have engrossed and piled up 
 The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; 
 For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
 Their sons with arts, and martial exercises: 
 When, like the bee, tolling = from every flower 
 The virtuous sweets; 
 Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with 
 
 honey. 
 We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees. 
 Are niurder'd lor our pains. This bitter taste 
 Yield his engrossments* to the ending father. — 
 
 Re-enter Warwick. 
 Now, where is he that will not stay so long 
 Till his friend sickness hath determin'd' me? 
 
 War. My lord, I found the prince in theiii-xl room, 
 Washing with kindly tears his geiille clierivs; 
 With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow. 
 That tyranny, which never quaH''d but blood. 
 Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife 
 With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
 K. Hen. But wlierelbre did he take away the 
 crown? 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry. 
 Lo, where he comes.— Come hitherto me, Harry:— 
 Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Clarence, Phinck Humpiiret, 
 Lords, cVf, 
 
 I Cap. '-'Circle. 
 
 4 Accuuiulations. 
 
 STukiii? toll. 
 'Ended. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KIXG HENRY IV. 
 
 359 
 
 p. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again. 
 
 A". Hen. Tliy wish was father, Harry, to that 
 tiiouglit: 
 I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
 Dost thou so iiunger lor my empty chair, 
 That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honors 
 Belbre thy hour be ripeT O foolish youth ! 
 Thou seek'st the greatness that wijl overwhelm thee. 
 Stay but a little; lor my cloud ofdignity 
 Is held I'rom falling witli so weak a wind. 
 That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. 
 Thou hast stolen that, which, afler some few hours, 
 Were thine without ollence; and, at my death, 
 Thou hast seal'd up my exjiectation:'* 
 Tliy lite did manifest, thou lov'dst me not, 
 And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
 Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts; 
 Which thou hast whetted oji thy stony heart. 
 To stab at half an liour of myiife. 
 What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? 
 Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself; 
 And bid the merry bells ring to tliine ear, 
 That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
 Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse, 
 Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head: 
 Only compound me with begotten dust ; 
 Give that, whicii gave tlice lile, unto tlie worms. 
 Pluck down my ofiiccrs, break my decrees; 
 For now a time is come to mock at form, 
 Harry the Fifth is crownM: — Up, vanity! 
 Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence! 
 And to the English court assemble now. 
 From every region, apes of idleness! 
 Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum: 
 Have you a rufiian, that will swear, drink, dance. 
 Revel "the night; rob, murder, and commit 
 Theholdest sins the newest kind of ways! 
 Be happy, he will trouble you no more: 
 England'shall double gild his treble guilt; 
 England shall give him ofrioe. honor, might: 
 For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks 
 The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
 Shall Ili'sh his tooth in every innocent. 
 
 my 1)1 Hir kingdom, sick with civil blows! 
 When that my care could not withhold thy riots. 
 What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care? 
 
 (), thou wilt he a wilderness again. 
 Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! 
 P. Hen. O pardon me, my liege! but for my 
 tears, [Kneeling. 
 
 The moist impediments unto my speech, 
 
 1 had forestallM this dear and deep rebuke. 
 Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard 
 The course of it so far. There is your erowiv 
 And He that wears the crown immortally, 
 Long guard it yours! If I affect it more. 
 Than as your lionor, and as your renown. 
 Let me no more from this olu'dience rise. 
 {Which my most true and inward duteous spirit 
 Teaciieth,) this prostrate and exterior bending! 
 Heaven witness with me, when I here came in. 
 And found no course of breath witliin your itiajesty. 
 How cold it struck my heart ! if I do feign, 
 
 O, let me in my present wildness die; 
 
 And never live to show the incredulous world 
 
 The noble change that I have purposed! 
 
 Coming to look on you. thinking you dead, 
 
 (And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 
 
 I spake unto the crown, as having sense. 
 
 And thus upbraided it. Tlie care on thee depending, 
 
 liathfc'i itp(ni the hottii of my father,- 
 
 Thirefure. thou, bed if ,v'i!<f, art wnr.it nf gold, 
 
 Other^ lefisftne in carat,'' hi more precious. 
 
 Preserving life in nied?cine potable: 
 
 But thou, most fine, most honored, most renoum^d, 
 
 Hust eut thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal 
 
 liege. 
 Accusing it, I put it on my head; 
 To try with it, — as with an enemy. 
 That had before my fiicc murder'd my father, — 
 The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
 But if it did infect my blood with joy, 
 
 t-Coi firmel my o](iDion. 
 
 ~ A term used iu iltscribing the fineness of cold 
 
 Or swell my thotights to any strain of pride; 
 If any rebel or \ain spirit of mine 
 Did, with the least aflection of a welcome, 
 Give entertainment lo the might of it. 
 Let God lor ever keep it from my head! 
 And make me as the poorest vassal is. 
 That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! 
 
 K. Hen. O my son! 
 Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence. 
 That thou might^st win the more thy father^s love, 
 Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. 
 Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed. 
 And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
 That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, 
 By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
 I met this crown ; and I myself know well, 
 How troublesome it .sat upon my head: 
 To thee it shall descend with better quiet, 
 Better opinion, better confirmation: 
 For all the soil of the achievement goes 
 With me into the earth. It seem'd in me. 
 But us an honor .snatch'd with boisterous hand; 
 And I had many living, to upbraid 
 My gain of it by their assistance; 
 Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed. 
 Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears, 
 Thou seest, with peril I have answer'd: 
 For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
 Acting that argument; and now my death 
 Changes the mode: for what in me was purchas'd,' 
 Falls upon thee in a more fiiirer sort; 
 So thou the garla;id wear'st sueces-sively. 
 Yet, though thou stand'st more sure tlian I could 
 
 do. 
 Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green ; 
 And all tliy friends, which thou must make thy 
 
 lYie'nds, 
 Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'cn out; 
 By whoso fell workiiis 1 was first advanced, 
 .\nd by whose jiower I well might lodge a fear 
 To be again disjilaced: which to avoid 
 I cut them oil'; and had a purpose now 
 To lead out many to the Holy Land; 
 Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look 
 Too near unto 'my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
 Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds 
 With foreign quarrels; that action, hence born out. 
 May wasle the memory of tlie former days. ' 
 More would I, but my lungs are wasted so. 
 That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
 How I came by the crown, O God, forgive! 
 And grant it may with thee in true peace live! 
 
 P. Hen. My gracious liege. 
 You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; 
 Then plain, and right, must my po.sscssion be: 
 Which I, with more than with a common pain, 
 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 
 
 Enter Phince Jonx nf Lancaster, WARWfCE, Lords, 
 and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of 
 Lancaster. 
 
 P. John. Health, peace, and happiness lo my 
 royal lather! 
 
 A'. Hen.' Thau liring'st me happiness, and peace, 
 son .Inhn; 
 But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown 
 From this hare, wither'd trunk; upon thy sight. 
 
 My worldly business makes a period. 
 
 Where is my lord of Warwick ! 
 
 P. Hen. My lord of Warwick ! 
 
 K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong 
 Unto the lodging where I first did swoon ! 
 
 War. 'Tiscaird Jerusalem, my noble lord. 
 
 K. Hen. Laud be to God!— even there my life 
 must end. 
 It had been prophesied to me many years, 
 I should not die but in Jerusalem; 
 Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land:— 
 But, bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; 
 In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Eirunt. 
 
 8 Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently means stolen 
 gooiln 
 
3G0 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act V", 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — Gloucestershire. A Hall in Shallow's 
 House, 
 
 Enter Shallow, Falstaff^ BARDOLni, and Page. 
 
 Shal. By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away 
 to-niglit. What, D-wy-, I say! 
 
 FaL You must excuse me, master Robert Shallow. 
 
 SluU. I wilt not excuse you ; you sliall not be ex- 
 cused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no 
 excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused. — 
 WJiy, Davy ! 
 
 Enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. Here, sir. 
 
 iihaL Davy, Davy, Davy, — let me sec, Davy; let 
 me sec: — yea, marry, William cook, bid hnn dome 
 hither. — Sir JoiiUj you shall not be excused, 
 
 Davy. Marry, SI1-, thus; — those precepts** cannot 
 be served: and, again, sir, — Shall we sow the head- 
 land with wiieat { 
 
 Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William 
 conk; 'Are tliere no young pigeons! 
 
 Davy. Yes, sir. Here is now tlie smith's note, 
 
 for slioeing and plougli-irons. 
 
 Shal. Let it be cast,i and paid:^ir John, you 
 sliall not be excused. 
 
 Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must 
 needs be had. — And, sir, do you mean to stop any 
 of Wdliam 'swages, about the sack he lost the other 
 day at Hinckley lair] 
 
 tihal. He shall answer it : Some pigeons, Dfevy; 
 
 a couple of short-legged hens; a jomt of mutton; 
 and any pretty httle tiny kickshaws, tell WtUiam 
 conk. 
 
 Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir"! 
 
 ShaL Yes, Davy, 1 will use hnn well; A friend 
 i'llif court is better than a penny in purse. Use 
 his men well, Davy; lor they are arrant knaves, 
 and wdl backbite. 
 
 Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, sir; 
 for lUoy have marvellous foul linen. 
 
 Sfial. Well conceited, Davy. About thy busi- 
 ness, Davy. 
 
 Davy. 1 beseech you, sir, to countenance William 
 Visor of Wincot, against Clement Perkes of the hill. 
 
 Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against 
 that Visor; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my 
 knowledge. 
 
 Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a knave, 
 sir: biit yet, God ibrbid, sir, but a knave should 
 have some countenance at his friend's request. An 
 holiest man, sir, is able to speak lor himself, when 
 a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, 
 sir, thrs eight years; and if I cannot once or twice 
 in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest 
 man, 1 have but a very little credit with your wor- 
 siiip. The knave is my honest friend, sir; there- 
 fore, I beseech your worship, let him be counte- 
 nanced. 
 
 Shal. Go to ; I say, lie shall have no wrong. Look 
 about, Davy. [Exit. Davy.] Where are you, sir 
 John] Come, olf with your boots. — Give me your 
 liand, master Bardolph. 
 
 Bitrd. I am glad to sec your worship. 
 
 Skal, I thank thee with all my heart, kind mas- 
 ter Bardolph: — and welcome, my tall fellow. [To 
 ike Page.] Come, sir John. [Exit Shallow. 
 
 Ftil. I'll follow you, good master UoIhmI Shidlovv. 
 Bardolph, look to" our horses. [Excuitl ltAi;itoi,pu 
 ami Page.] U'l were sawed into quantihcs, i should 
 make four dozen of such bearded hermit's staves as 
 master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the 
 semblable coherence of his men's spirits and iiis: 
 They, by observing him, do bear themselves like 
 foolish justices; ho, by conversing with them, is 
 turned Into a justice-like serving man; theirspirits 
 aresomarried in conjunction with the participation 
 of society, that they llock together in consent, like 
 so many wild-geese. If I had a suit to master 
 Shallow, I would humnr his men with the impu- 
 tation of being near tlieir master: if to his men, I 
 
 ''Warrants. 
 
 1 Cast up. 
 
 would curry with master Shallow, that no man 
 could better command his servants. It is certain, 
 that cither wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, is 
 caught as men take diseases, one of another: ihero- 
 lure, let men take heed of their couipany. I will 
 devise matter enough out of this Shallow, to keep 
 prince Harry in continual laughter, the wearing- 
 out of six lashions. (which is lour terms, or two 
 actions,) and he shall laugh without iiitervailunis. 
 (), it is much, that a lie, with a sHght oath, and a 
 jest, with a sad brow,^ will do with a lelluw that 
 never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall 
 see him laugh till his liice be like a wet cloak ill 
 laid up. 
 
 Shal. [Within.] Sir John! 
 
 FaL I come, master Shallow; I come, master 
 Shallow. [Exit Falstaff, 
 
 SCENE II.— Westminster. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Warwick, and the Lord Cfiiep Justice. 
 
 War. How now, my lord chief Justice? whither 
 
 away 1 
 Ch. Just. How doth the king? 
 War. Exceeding well; his cares are now all 
 
 ended. 
 Ch. Just. I hope, not dead. 
 
 War. He's walk'd the way of nature; 
 
 And, to our purposes, he lives no more. 
 Ch. Just. I would his majesty had called me with 
 iiim: 
 The service that I truly did his life, 
 Hath left me open to all injuries. 
 
 War. Indeed, I think the young king loves you 
 
 not. 
 Ch. Just. I know he doth not; and do arm myself, 
 To welcome the condition of the time; 
 Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
 Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. 
 
 -E/i/er Prince John, Prince Hcmphrey, Clarence, 
 Westmoreland, and others. 
 War. Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry: 
 O. that the living Harry had the temper 
 Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen! 
 How many nobles then should hold their places, 
 That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort ! 
 Ch. Just. Alas ! I fear, all will be ovenurn'd. 
 P. John. Good-morrow, cousin Warwick. 
 p. Humph. Cia. Good-morrow, cousin. 
 p. John. We meet like men that had forgot to 
 
 speak. 
 War. We do remember; but our argument 
 Is all too heavy to admit such talk. 
 P. John. Well, peace be with him that liath 
 
 made us heavy! 
 Ch. Just. Peace be with us, least we be heavier! 
 P. Humph. 0, good my lord, you have lost a 
 friend indeed: 
 And I dare swear, you borrow not that face 
 Of seeming sorrow; it is, sure, your own. 
 P. John. Though no man be assur'd what grace 
 to find, 
 You stxind in coldest expectation: 
 I am the sorrier; 'would 'twere otherwise. 
 Cla. Well, you must now speak sir John Fr.lstatt 
 fair; 
 Which swims against your stream of quality. 
 Cfi. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in 
 honor, 
 Led by the impartial conduct of my soul; 
 And never shall j'ou see, that I will beg 
 A ragged and forestallM remission. — 
 If Irulh and upright innocency fail me, 
 ril to tiie king my master tliat is dead. 
 And tell him who hath sent me after him. 
 JFar. Here comes the prince. 
 
 Enter King Henry V. 
 Ch Just. Good-morrow; and heaven save your 
 majesty! 
 
 ''A serious face. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 361 
 
 King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, 
 Sits not so easy on mc as you tliink. — 
 Brottiers, you mix your sadness with some fear; 
 This is the English, not the Turl{ish court; 
 Not Amurath an Amuralh^ succeeds. 
 But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad, good brothers, 
 yt r, to speak truth, it very well becomes you; 
 Soirow so royally in you appears. 
 That I will deeply put the liishion on. 
 And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad: 
 But entertain no more of it, good brothers, 
 Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
 For me, by Heaven, I bid you be assurM, 
 ru be your father and your brother too; 
 Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. 
 Yet weep, that Harry's dead ; and so will 1 : 
 But Harry lives, that shall convert those tear.s, 
 By number, into hours of happiness. 
 
 P. Jukn, tVc. We hope no other from your majesty. 
 
 King. You all look strangely on nie: — and you 
 most; (To ^te Chief Justice. 
 
 You are, I think, assur'd, I love you not. 
 
 Ch. Just. I am assur'd, if I be measured rightly. 
 Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me. 
 
 King. No ! 
 How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
 So great indignities you laid upon me ? 
 What! rate, rebuke, and roughly sent to prison 
 The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy ? 
 May this be wash'd in Lethe and forgotten '. 
 
 Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your father; 
 The image of his power lay then in me: 
 And, in the administration of his law, 
 Wliiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 
 Y'our highness pleased to forget my place. 
 The majesty and power of law and justice, 
 The image of the king whom I presented, 
 Atid struck me in my very seat of judgment; 
 Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
 I gave bold way to my authority. 
 And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 
 Be you contented, wearing now the garland, 
 To have a son set your decrees at nought ; 
 To pluck down justice from your awful bench ; 
 To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
 That guards the peace and safety of your person: 
 Nay, more: to spurn at your most royal image. 
 And mock your workings in a second body. 
 Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; 
 Be now the father, and propose a son: 
 Hear your own dignity so much profaned. 
 See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
 Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd: 
 And then imagine me taking your part. 
 And, in your power, soft silencing your son: 
 Alter this cold consideration, sentence me; 
 And, as you are a king, speak in your state,* 
 What I have done that misbecame my place. 
 My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 
 
 King. You are right. Justice, and you weigh 
 this well; 
 Therefore still bear the balance and the sword: 
 And I do wish your honors may increase, 
 Till you do live to see a son ot' mine 
 Odend you. and obey you, as I did. 
 So shall I live to speak my father's words:^ 
 Happy am I, ttuit have u man so hold, 
 T/iat dares do justice on 7ni/ proper son; 
 And not less tuippij, liaving sucft a son, 
 That would deliver up h-S greatness so 
 Into tfie hands of Just i/:e.— You did commit me: 
 For which I do commit into your hand 
 The unstain'd sword that you have used to bear; 
 With this remembrance, — That you use the same 
 With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit. 
 As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand ; 
 You shall be as a liither to my youth: 
 My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear; 
 And I will stoop and huiiible my intents 
 
 To your wcll-practis'd, wise directions. 
 
 And, princes all, believe me, I beseecli you; — 
 My father is gone wild into his grave, 
 For in his tomb lie my alli^ctions; 
 And with his spirit sadly I survive. 
 To mock the expectation of the world; 
 To frustrate prophecies; and to raze out 
 
 "Emperor of the Turk s, ilieii in 1590 ; his son, who 
 Bucceeiled him, had all liis iMothers slraiigleil. 
 * In your regal character and office. 
 
 Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
 Aller my seeming. The tide of blood in me 
 Hath proudly fiow'd in vanity till now: 
 Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea: 
 Where it shall mingle with the state of floods. 
 And flow hencefbrtn in formal majesty. 
 Now call we our high court of parliament: 
 And let us choose such limbs of noble counciJ, 
 That the great body of our state may go 
 In equal rank with the best govern'd nation; 
 That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 
 
 As things acquainted and familiar to us; 
 
 In which you, lather, shall have foremost hand. 
 
 [Tu the Lord Chief Justicb 
 Our coronation done, we will accile,* 
 As I before remember'd, all our state: 
 .\nd (God consigning to ray good intents) 
 No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause to 
 
 say, — 
 Heaven shorten Harry's happy life one day. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE in.— Gloucestershire. The Garden of 
 Shallow's House. 
 
 Enter Falstafp, SfiALLow, Silence, Bardolpd, the 
 Page, and Davy. 
 
 Shal. Nay, 5'ou shall see mine orchard: where, in 
 an arbor, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own 
 gralling, with a dish of carraways, and so forth; — 
 come, cousin Silence; — and then to bed. 
 
 Fat. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, 
 and a rich. 
 
 ^hal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beg- 
 gars all, sir John :— marry, good sir.— Spread, Davy; 
 spread, Davy; well said, Davy. 
 
 Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is 
 youl- serving-man, and your husbandman. 
 
 StuU. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good 
 varlet, sir John.— By the mass, I have drunk too 
 much sack at sujiper:— A good varlet. Now sit 
 down, now sit down : — come, cousin. 
 Sit. Ah. sirrah! quoth-a, — we shall 
 Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, 
 
 [Singing. 
 And prtii.-^e hravrnfor the memj year; 
 When Jlesh i.s^ cheap audftmalts'dear. 
 And htsti/ lads roam here and there. 
 So mc-rriltj, 
 And ever among so merrily. 
 Fal. There's a merry heart! — Good master Si- 
 lence. I'll give you a health for that anon. 
 Shfit. (iive master Bardolph some wine. Davy. 
 Davi/. Sweet sir. sit; [Nen/mg- Bardolph o?;(?/A< 
 Page at another taljle.] I'll be with you anon ;— 
 
 most sweet sir, sit. Master pase, good master 
 
 page, sit: prnface." What you want in meat, we'll 
 have in drink. But you must bear; the heart's all. 
 
 \_ExU. 
 Shal. Be merry, maslcr Bardolph:— and my little 
 soldier there, be merry. 
 Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wive^s as all; 
 
 [Singing. 
 F(n- woman are shrcms, both short and lull,- 
 'Tis merry in hall, ivtitn beards wag all. 
 
 And welcome merry skrove-tide. 
 Be merry, be merry, ?Sr. 
 Fal. I did not think master Silence had been a 
 man of this mettle. 
 
 Sil. Who, I ! I have been merry twice and once, 
 ere now. 
 
 Re-enter Datv. 
 Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats' for you. 
 
 [Setting them before Bardolph. 
 Shal. Davy,— 
 
 Davy. Your worship?— I'll be with you straight 
 [To Bard.] — A cup of wine, sir! 
 Sil. A cup of wine, that's brisk andfine, 
 
 [Singing 
 And drink unto tfie lady mine; 
 And a merry heart lives lung-a. 
 Fal. Well said, master Silence, 
 Sil. And we shall be merry; — now comes in tlie 
 sweet of the night. 
 Fat. Health and long lil'e to you, master Silence. 
 Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come; 
 
 Tit pledge you a m He to the bottom, 
 ^ Summon. « Italian, much fjood may it do you. 
 
 "Apides commonly called russelines 
 
362 
 
 SECOND PAllT OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 SAffi. Honest Bardolph, welcome: If thou vvaiitcst 
 any thing, and wilt not call, hcshrew thy iit-art. — 
 Welcome, my little tiny thief; {To (he Paj;e.] and 
 welcome, indeed, too, — 1*1! drink to master Bar- 
 Jolph, and to all the cavalerocs ahout London. 
 
 Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die. 
 
 Bar'd. An I might see you there, Davy. — 
 
 Skal. By Uie mass, you'll crack a quart together. 
 Ha ! will you not, master Bardolph ! 
 
 Bard. Yes, sir, in a pottle pot. 
 
 Skat. I thank thee:-^The knave will stick by 
 thee, I can assure thee tliat: he will not out: he is 
 true hred. 
 
 Bard. And I'll stick by him. sir. 
 
 HkaL Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: 
 be merrj'. {Knocking heard. ] Look wiio's at door 
 there: Ho! who knocks ] [ExitDAyY. 
 
 Fal. Wliy, now you have done me rii^ht. 
 
 [To Silence, wfu) drinks a bumper. 
 
 Sil. Do me right, [Singing. 
 
 And dab me knight:^ 
 SamingoJ* 
 Is't not sol 
 
 Fa/. 'Tis so. 
 
 Sil. Is't sol Why, then say, an old man can do 
 somewhat. 
 
 Re-enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. An itpleaseyourworship, there's one Pistol 
 come trom the court with news. 
 
 Fal. From the court! let him come in. — 
 Enter Pistol. 
 How now, Pistoll 
 
 Fist. God save j'ou, sir John ! 
 
 Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? 
 
 Fist. Not the iU wind which blows no man to 
 good. — Sweet knight, thou art now one ol" the 
 greatest men in the realm. 
 
 Sil. By'r Jady, I think 'a be; but goodman Puff 
 of Barson. 
 
 Fist. Puff? 
 Puff HI thy teeth, most recreant coward base! — 
 Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend, 
 And iieltci-skelter have I rode to thee; 
 And Ifldings do I bring, and lucky joys, 
 And golden times, and happy news of price. 
 
 Fal. I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man of 
 this world. 
 
 Pkt. A tbutrafor the world, and worldlings base! 
 I speak of Africa, and golden joys. 
 
 Fal. base Assyrian knight, wiiat is thy news] 
 Let king Cophetua know the truth tlicreof. 
 
 Sii. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. [Sings. 
 
 Fist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? 
 And sJiall good news be ballled ? 
 Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. 
 
 Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breed- 
 ing. 
 
 Pisf. Why then, lament therefore. 
 
 Shfil. Give me pardon, sir; — If, sir,, you come 
 with news from the court, I lake il, tiiore is but 
 two ways; either to utter tliem, or conceal them. 
 I am. sir, under the king, in some authority. 
 
 FUit. Under which king, Bezomani speak, or die. 
 
 Shal. Under king Harry. 
 
 Pist. Harry the fourtiiTor fifth ? 
 
 Shal. Harry the fourth. 
 
 Pi.'^t. A foutra for thine olTice! — 
 
 Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; 
 Harry the filth's the man. I speak tlic trutli: 
 When Pistol lies, do this; and hg me, like 
 Tlie hragging Spaniard. 
 
 Fal. What! is the old king dead? 
 
 Pisf. As nail in door: the things I. 'ipcak, are just. 
 
 Fal. Away. Bardolph; saddle my iiorsc.— Master 
 Robert Shallow, choose wiiatotlice tiion wilt in the 
 land, 'tis thiiic— Pistol, I will double-charge tJiee 
 with dignities. 
 
 Bard. O joyful day!— I would not take a kniglit- 
 hood tor my fortune. 
 
 Puit. What? 1 do bring good news? 
 
 Fal. Carry master Silence to bed.— Master Shallow, 
 my lord Shallow, be what thou wilt. I am fortune's 
 steward. Get on thy boots; we'll ride all nii^ht:— 
 O, sweet Pistol:— Away, Bardolpii.— [£,'.17/ Bard.] 
 
 ^ lie who ilr.'ink a bumper on his knees, to the health 
 of his mistress, was dulil.cil a knijrht for tlie cvi-ning. 
 
 B It shoulil be Domingo : it is part of a song in one of 
 Nasht's I'lays. 
 
 Come. Pistol, utter more to me; and, withal, dcviso 
 somoLhing to do thyself good. — Boot, boot, master 
 Shallow; I know the young king is sick for me. 
 Let us take any man's liorses; the laws of Eiili land 
 are at my commandment. Happy are they winch 
 have been my friends; and woe to my lord chief 
 Justice! 
 
 Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! 
 Where is the life that late I ledi^ say they: 
 Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days. 
 
 [£ixeunt 
 
 SCENE IV. London. A Street, 
 
 Enter Beadles, draggi?ig in Hostess Quickly, aiii 
 Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 Host. No, thou arrant knave; I would, I might 
 die, that I might have thee hanged: thou hast 
 drawn my shoulder out of joint. 
 
 1 Bead. The constables have deliveredher over to 
 me; and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I 
 warrant her: there had been a man or two lately 
 killed about her. 
 
 Doll. Nut-hook, nut-hook, 1 you lie. Come, on ! 
 I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal; 
 an the cliild I now go with, do miscarry, thou 
 had"st better thou had'st struck thy mother, tliou 
 paper faced villain! 
 
 Host, the Lord, that sir John were come! he 
 would make this a bloody day to somebody. But 
 I pray God, the fruit of her womb miscarry ! 
 
 1 Bead. If I do, you shall liave a dozen of cush- 
 ions* again; you have but eleven now. Come, I 
 charge you both go with me; for the man is dead, 
 that you and Pistol beat among you. 
 
 Didl. I'll tell thee wliat. thou thin man in a cen- 
 ser! I will ha\'e you as soundly swinged tor this, 
 you blue-bottle rogue !3 you lilthy famished correc- 
 tioner! if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half- 
 kirtles.** 
 
 1 Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant, 
 come. 
 
 Host. 0, that right should thus overcome might! 
 Well; of sullerance comes case, 
 
 Doll. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a 
 justice. 
 
 Host. Ay; come, you starved blood-hound. 
 
 Dull. Goodman death! soodman bones! 
 
 Jliint. Thou atomy, tliou! 
 
 Dull. Come, you thin tiling; come, you rascal! 
 
 1 Bead. Very well. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE V. — A public Place near Westminster 
 
 Abbey. 
 
 E?ifer two Grooms, strewing Rushes. 
 
 1 Grooju. More rushes, more rushes. 
 
 2 Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice. 
 
 1 Groom. It will be two o'clock ere they come 
 from the coronation: Despatch, despatcJi. 
 
 [Exeunt Grooms. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and 
 the Page. 
 
 Fal. Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow; 
 I will make the king do you grace: I will leer upon 
 him, as 'a comes by; and do but mark the counte- 
 nance that he will give me. 
 
 Fist. God bless thy lungs, good knight. 
 
 Fal. Come here. Pistol; stand behind me. — 0, if 
 1 had had time to have made new liveries, 1 would 
 have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of 
 you. [To Shallow.] But 'tis no matter; this poo'r 
 show doth better: tnis doth infer the zeal I liad to 
 see him. 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection. 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 Fal. My devotion. 
 
 Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth. 
 
 Fal. As it were, to ride day and night; and not 
 to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience 
 to shift me. 
 
 Shal. It is most certain. 
 
 Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and sweat- 
 ing with desire to see him: thinking of nothing^else; 
 putting all affiirs else in oblivion; as if there were 
 notlnng else to be done, but to sec him. 
 
 ' A term of reproach for a catchpoll. 
 *To stuff her out to countcifeit pregnacy. 
 
 3 Ueadles usually wore a blue livery ^ Short cloaks. 
 
Scene V, 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 363 
 
 Fist. 'Tis semper idem, iov absque hoc nihil esi:^ 
 'Tis all in every part. 
 
 Shut. 'Tis so indeed. 
 
 Pist. My laiight, I will inflame tiiy noble liver, 
 And make tiiee rage. 
 
 Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, 
 Is in base durance, and coutagious prison; 
 Haul'd thither 
 
 By most mechanical and dirty hand: — 
 Rouse up revenge irom ebon den with fell Alecto's 
 
 snake. 
 For Doll is in; Pistol speaks nought hut truth. 
 
 Fat. I will deliver her. 
 
 [Shouts tvithin, and the Trumpets sound. 
 
 Fist. There roar'd the sea, the trumpet-clangor 
 sounds. 
 
 Enter the King and his Train, the Chief Justice 
 among them. 
 
 Fal. God save thy grace, king Hal! my royal 
 
 Hal! 
 Fist. Tlie heavens thee guard and keep, most 
 
 royal imp of fame! 
 Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy! 
 King;. ]\Iy lord chief Justice, speak to that vain 
 
 man. 
 Ch. Just. Have you your wits? laiow you what 
 
 His you speak; 
 Fal. ]My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my 
 
 heart! 
 KinS' I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy 
 
 prayers ; 
 How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester! 
 I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, 
 So surfeil-swell'd, so old. and so profane; 
 But, being awake, I do de^ipise my dream. 
 Alake less thy body, hence.^ and more thy grace; 
 Leave gormandizing; know, the grave doth gape 
 For tiiee thrice wider than lor other men: 
 Reply not to me with a Ibol-born jest; 
 Presume not. that I am the thing I was: 
 For heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive. 
 That I have turn'd away my former self; 
 So will 1 those tJiat kept my company. 
 Wlien thou dost hear 1 am as I have been, 
 Approach me; and thou shalt be as thou wast, 
 The tutor and the feeder of my riots; 
 Till tlien, 1 banish thee, on pain of death, — 
 As I have done the rest of my misleaders, — 
 Iv'ot to come near our person by ten miles. 
 For competence of life, I will allow you, 
 That lack of means enforce you not to evil: 
 
 And, as we hear you do reform yourselves. 
 We will,— according to your strength, and quali- 
 ties, — 
 Give you advancement.— Be it your charge, ray 
 
 lord, 
 To see perlbrm'd the tenor of our word. — 
 Set on. [Kxeunt King, and his Train. 
 
 Fat. Master Siiallow, I owe you a thousand 
 pound. 
 
 Shal. Ay, marry, sir John; which I beseech you 
 to let me have home with me. 
 
 Fat. That can hardly be, master Shallow. Do 
 not you grieve at this; I sJiall be sent lor in private 
 to liim : look you, he must seem thus to the world. 
 Fear not your advancement; I will be the man j-et 
 that shall make you great. 
 
 Shal. I cannot perceive how; unless you give 
 me your doublet, and stuff me out with straw. 1 
 beseech you, good sir John, let me have hve hun 
 dred of my thousand, 
 
 Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word : this that 
 you heard, was but a color. 
 
 Shal A color, I fear, that you will die in, sir John. 
 
 Fal. Fearnocolors; go with me lodinner. Tome, 
 lieutenant Pistol ; — come, Bardolph : — 1 sJiall be sent 
 lor soon at night. [Exeunt 
 
 Re-enter Prince Jonx, the Chief Justice,011icers, &c. 
 
 Ch.Just. Go, carry sir John Falstallto the Fleet; 
 Take all his company along with him. 
 
 Fal. My lord, my lord, 
 
 Ch.Just. I cannot now speak: I will hear you 
 soon. 
 Take them away. 
 
 Pisl. SiJ}/rfuna me icn'menta, spero me contenia. 
 [Exeunt Fal., Shal., Pist., Bard., Page, 
 and Oflicers. 
 
 P. Johi. I like this fair proceeding of the king's; 
 He hath intent, his wonted followers 
 Shall all be very well provided Ibr; 
 But all are banish'd, till their conversations 
 Appear more wise and modest to the world. 
 
 Vh. Ju.st. And so tlipy arc. 
 
 P. John. The king hath calPd his parliament, my 
 lord. 
 
 Ch.Ju^f. He hath. 
 
 P. John. I will lay odds, — that ere this year 
 expire. 
 We bear our civil swords and native fire. 
 As far as P'rance; I heard a bird so sing. 
 Whose music, to my thinking, pleas'd iJie king. 
 Come, will you hence] [Exeunt. 
 
 EPILOGUE.— 5j;&to^ hy a Dancer. 
 
 YiVi9.T, my fear.- then, 7ny courVsy ; last, my 
 Ffpeech. My fear w, your displeasure; my cnurfsy. 
 my duty; and jny speech, to />cg your pardons. If' 
 you 1(11)1; for'a good speech noio^you undo me .-for 
 U'hal I have to say is of mine own nia-king; and 
 luhut, indeed, I should say, ivill, I doubt, prove 
 mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to 
 the venture: — Be it known to you, (as it is very 
 well,} I was lately here in the end of a diy)leafiing 
 play, to pray yinir patience for it, and to promise 
 you a better. I did mean, indeed, to pay you with 
 t/tis; which, if like an ill venture, it come unlucki- 
 ly home. I break, and. i,ou. my gentle creditors, lose, 
 here, I promised you, I would he, and here I com- 
 7nit my body to your -mercirs: bate me some, and 
 I will pay you some, and as most debtors do, 
 promise i^ou infinitely. 
 
 If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, 
 Witt you command me to use my legs y and yet 
 
 ^'Tis all in all, and all in every part. 
 * Henceforward. 
 
 that were but light payment,~to dance out (f your 
 dtbl. But a good conscience wiU make ant/ poss-i" 
 ble satifactiim, and so will I. All the gentlewo- 
 men hej'e have forgiven me,- if the gentlenun will 
 md, then the gentlemen do 7wt agree with the geU' 
 ilewomen, which was never seen before in such an 
 asstmbly. 
 
 One word more, I beseech you. If you be 7iot too 
 much cloi;ed xcith fal meat, our humble author 
 will cioitinuc the story, with sir John in 'it, and 
 make you merry wUh fair Katharine of F}' a nee : 
 I know. Fa '.staff shall die of 
 less already he be killed- with your hard 
 opinions; J'or Oldcastle died, a martyr, and this is 
 not the man. My tongue Is xvcory; when my legs 
 are too, I will bid you good 7ii^ht : and so kneel 
 dtnvn before you; — but, indeed, to pray for the 
 queen. "> 
 
 ' Most of the ancient interludes conclude with n prayer 
 for the kinj? or queen. Hence, perhaps, the Vivaut. Rcz 
 S^ Rcgina, at the bottom of cur moJera play-billa. 
 
 where, for anything 
 a sweat, unless a I ret 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Kix'G Hexry the Fifth. 
 
 Duke of Exlter, Uncle to the King. 
 Duke of Yoke, Cuunin to the King. 
 Earls op Saoisbuky, Westmoreland, ami War- 
 wick. 
 ARCiimsHOP OF Canterbury. 
 Bishop op Ely. 
 
 i'oKD '^LSot'"'"''' \ Conspirators asalast the 
 Sir Thomas Grey, S ^' 
 
 Sir Thomas Ehpinimiam, Gower, Fluellen, Mac- 
 morris, Jamy, Officers in King Henry's 
 ar/ni/. 
 Bates, Court, Williams, Soldiers in tfie same. 
 NvM, Bardolph, Pistol. /wnifrii/ Servants to Fal- 
 
 staff, now Soldiers in the same. 
 Boy, Servant to tkem. 
 
 A Herald. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Charles the Sixth, King of France. 
 
 Lewis, ttte Dauphin. 
 
 DuKKS OP BcRUUNoy, Orleans, and Bourbon. 
 
 The Constable of France. 
 
 Kamihres, and Granupre, Frencli Lords. 
 
 Ginvrnur of Harfleur. 
 
 Mostjoy, a Frencli Herald. 
 
 Ambassadors to tlie King of England. 
 
 TsABEL, Queen of France. 
 Katharine, Daugliler of Charles and Isabel. 
 Alice, a Lady attending on the Princess Katliaiine. 
 Quickly, Fistofs Wife, an Hostess. 
 
 Lorils, Ladies, Officers, French and English Solr 
 diers, Messengers, and Attendants. 
 
 The SCENE, at the beginning of the play, lies in England; hut aftenvards ichollij in France. 
 
 Enter Chorcs. 
 
 0, for a muse of fire that would ascend 
 The hrightest heaven of invention ! 
 A kingdom for a sfage. princes to act. 
 And inoiiarchs to belitild the swelling scene! 
 Then should the warlike Harry, like himself. 
 Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, 
 LeashM in like hounds, should famine, sword, and 
 
 fire. 
 Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, 
 The Hat unraised spirit, that hath dared, 
 On this unworthy scallbid, to bring forth 
 .So gri^at an ohjcct: Can this cockpit hold 
 The \asty fields of France, or may we cram 
 Within the woo''"~ 0,' the very casques," 
 That did alfrighi, ii.e air at Agincourt ! 
 O, pardon! since a crooked figure may 
 Attest, in little place, a million; 
 
 And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, 
 
 On your imaginary forces' work: 
 
 Suppose, within the girdle of these walls, 
 
 .\re now confined two mighty monarchies, 
 
 Whose high upreared and abutting fronts 
 
 The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder. 
 
 Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts, 
 
 Into a thousand parts divide one man, 
 
 And make imaginary puissance: 
 
 Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them 
 
 Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth: 
 
 For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our 
 
 kings. 
 Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times; 
 Turning the accomplishment of many years 
 Into an hour-glass; For the which supply, 
 Admit me Chorus to this history; 
 Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray, 
 Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — London. An Ante-chamber in the 
 King's Palace. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, o'irf Bishop 
 OF Ely. 
 Cant. My lord, 1*11 tell you,— that self hill is 
 urged, 
 Which, in the eleventh year o' the last king's reign, 
 ^Vas like, and had indeed against us pass'd, 
 
 1 ,-\n allusion lo the circular form of the theatre, 
 suchncts. 
 
 804 
 
 But that the scambling and unquiet time 
 Did push it out of further question. 
 
 AVi/. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? 
 
 Clint. It must bethought on. If it pass against 
 us. 
 We lose the better half of our possession: 
 For all the temporal lands, which men devout 
 By testament have given to the chiiroli. 
 Would they strip from us; being valued thus, — 
 As much as would maintain to the king's honor, 
 
 3 Powers of fancy. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 365 
 
 Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights; 
 Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; 
 And, to relief of lazars, and weak age, 
 Of indigent laint souls, past corporal toil, 
 A hundred ahn-houscs, right well supplied; 
 And to the colters of the king beside, 
 A thousand pounds by the year: Thus runs the 
 bill. 
 
 Ely. Tiiis would drink deep. 
 
 Cimt. 'Twould drink the cup and all. 
 
 Ely. But what prevention? 
 
 Cant. The king is full of grace and fair regard. 
 
 Ely. And a true lover of tiie holy church. 
 
 Cant. The courses of his youth promised it not. 
 The breath no sooner left his father's body, 
 But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
 Seem'd to die too: yea, that very moment, 
 Consideration like an angel came. 
 And whipp'd the oH'ending Adam out of him; 
 Leaving his body as a paradise. 
 To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 
 Never was such a sudden scholar made: 
 Never came reformation in a (lood, 
 Witli such a heady current, scouring faults; 
 Nor never hydra-headed willfulness 
 So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 
 As in this king. 
 
 Ely. We are blessed in the change. 
 
 Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity, 
 And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 
 You would desire, the king were made a prelate: 
 Hear him debate of commonwealth atlairs. 
 You would say, — it hath been all-in-all his study: 
 List^ his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
 A tearful battle rendcrM you in music: 
 Turn him to any cause of policy, 
 The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, 
 familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, 
 The air, a charter'd libertine, is still. 
 And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
 Tu steal his sweet and honeyed sentences; 
 So that the art and practic part of lite 
 Must be the mistress to this theoric: 
 Which is a wonder, how his grace should glean it, 
 Since his addiction was to courses vain: 
 His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow; 
 His hours fiU'd up with riots, banquets, sports; 
 And never noted in him any study, 
 Any retirement, any sequestration 
 From open haunts and i)opularity. 
 
 Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle; 
 And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
 Noighbor'd by fruit of baser quality: 
 And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation 
 Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt, 
 Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
 Unseen, yet crescivc' in his faculty. 
 
 Cant. U must be so: for miracles are ceas'd; 
 And therefore we must needs admit tlie means 
 How things are perfected. 
 
 -f-X'/- But, my good lord. 
 
 How now for mitigation of this bill 
 Urged by the commons? Doth his majesty 
 Incline to it, or no! 
 
 Cant. He seems indilTerent, 
 
 Or. rather, swaying more upon our part. 
 Than cherishing the exhibiters against us: 
 For I have made an oiler to his majesty,— 
 Ujion our spiritual convocation; 
 And in regard of causes now in hand. 
 Which I have open'd to his grace at large. 
 i^S^ touching France,— to give a greater sum 
 Than ever at one time the clergy yet 
 Did to his predecessors part withal. 
 
 Ely. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord ? 
 
 Cant. With good acceptance of his majesty; 
 Save, that there was not time enough to hear 
 (As, I perceiv'd, his grace would liiiu have done) 
 The severals, and unhidden passages. 
 Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms; 
 And, generally, the crown and seat of France, 
 Deriv'd from Edward, liis great grandfather. 
 
 Elt;. What was the impediment that broke this 
 oil? 
 
 Cant. The French ambassador, upon that instant, 
 Ciav'd audience: and the hour, 1 think, is come. 
 To give him hearing: Is it four o'clock ? 
 
 Ely. It is. 
 
 * Listen to. 6 I 
 
 ncreasing 
 
 Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy; 
 Which I could, with a ready guess, declare, 
 Before the Frenchman si)oke a word of it. 
 
 Ely. I'll «-ait upon you; and I long to hear it. 
 
 [Exeunt, ■ 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Room of State in ttte same. 
 
 Enter Kiso Henry, Gloster, BERFonD, Exeter, 
 Warwick, Westmoreland, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Hen. Where is my gracious lord of Canter- 
 bury ? 
 Exe. Not here in presence. 
 K. Hen. Send lor him, good uncle. 
 IVest. Shall we call in tne ambassador, my liege? 
 K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin; we would be re- 
 solv'd. 
 Before we hear him, of some things of weight. 
 That task our thoughts concerning us and France. 
 
 Enter tfie Archbishop or Canterbury a«d Bishop 
 OF Ely. 
 
 Cant. God, and his angels, guard your sacred 
 
 throne. 
 And make you long become it! 
 
 K. Hen. Sure, we thank you. 
 
 My learned lord, we pray you to proceed ; 
 And justly and religiously unfold. 
 Why the law Saliqaie, that they have in France, 
 Or should, or should not. bar us in our claim. 
 And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord. 
 That you should liishion, wrest or bow your reading. 
 Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
 With opening titles miscrcate, whose right 
 Suits not in native colors with the truth; 
 For God doth know, how many, now in licalth, 
 Shall droj) their blood in approbation 
 Of what your reverence shall incite us to: 
 Therelore take heed how you impawn our person, 
 How you awake the sleeping sword of war; 
 We charge you'in the name of God, take heed : 
 For never two such kingdoms did contend. 
 Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops 
 Are every one a woe, a sore complaiiit, 
 'Gainst him, whose wrongs give edge unto the 
 
 swords 
 That make such waste in brief mortality. 
 Under this conjuration, sjieak. my lord: 
 And we will hear, note, and believe in lieart. 
 That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd 
 As pure as sin with baptism. 
 Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign,— and 
 
 you peers, 
 That owe your lives, your faith, and services. 
 To this imperial throne:— There is no bar 
 To make against your highness' claims to France, 
 But this which they produce from Pharamond, — 
 In terrani Salicani niitlieres ?i€ succedantj 
 No woman sluilt succeed i?i Salique land; 
 Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze," 
 To be the realm of P'rance, and Pharamond 
 The founder of this law and female bar. 
 Yet their own authors faithfully affirm. 
 That the land Salique lies in Germany. 
 Between the ffonds of Sala and of Elbe: 
 Where Charles the great, having subdued the Sax 
 
 ons. 
 There left behind and settled certain French; 
 Who, holding in disdain the German women. 
 For some dishonest manners of their lile, 
 Kstablish'd there this law, — to wit, no Icmale 
 Should be inheretrix in Salique land; 
 Which Salique, as 1 said, 'Iwixt Elbe and Sala, 
 Is at this day in Germany call'd — Mesien. 
 Thus doth it well appear, the Salique law 
 Was not devised tor the realm of France: 
 Nor did the French possess the Salique land 
 Until lour hundred one-and-twenty years 
 After defunction of king Pharamond, 
 Idly suppos'd the liiunder of this law: 
 Who died within the year of our redemption — 
 Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the great 
 Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French 
 Beyond the river Sala, in the year 
 Eight hundred live. Besides, their writers say, 
 King Pepin, which deposed Childerick, 
 Did. as heir-general, being descended 
 CU BUthild, which was daughter to king Clothair, 
 
 "Explain. 
 
366 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 Make claim and title to the crown of France. 
 IIiu^li Capet also, — that usurpM the crown 
 Of diaries the dulie of Lorain, sole Iicir male 
 Of the true hne and stocli of Charies the great, — 
 To liiie^ his title witii some show of truth, 
 (Though, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,) 
 * Convey'd himself^ as iieir to the lady Lingare, 
 Daugtiter to Charlemain, who was the son 
 To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son 
 Of Charles the great. Also king Lewis tlie tenth. 
 Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, 
 Could not keep quiet in his conscience, 
 Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied 
 That fair queen Isabel, his grandmother, 
 Was lineal of the lady Ermengare, 
 Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorain: 
 By the which marriage, the line of Charles the great 
 Was re-united to the crown of France. 
 So tliat, as clear as is the summer's sun. 
 King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, 
 King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear 
 To hold in right and title of the lemale: 
 So do the kings of France unto this day; 
 Howbeit they would hold up this Saliquc law. 
 To bar your highness claiming from the temale; 
 And rather choose to hide them in a net. 
 Than amply to imbare" their crooked titles 
 Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. 
 K. Hen. May I, with right and conscience, make 
 
 this claim ] 
 Cant. Tlie sin upon my head, dread sovereign! 
 For in the book of Numbers it is writ, — 
 Whe*i the son dies, let the inheritance 
 Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord. 
 Stand lor your own; unwind your bloody (lag; 
 Look back unto your mighty ancestors: 
 Go, ray dread lord, to your great graudsire's tomb. 
 From whom you claim! invoke his warlike spirit. 
 And yourgreat uncle's, Edward the black prince; 
 Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, 
 Making defeat on the full power orFrance; 
 Whiles his most mighty father on A hill 
 Stood smiling, to behold his lion's whelp 
 Forage in blood of French nobility .1 
 O noble English, that could entertain 
 With half their forces the full pride of France; 
 And let another half stand laughing by. 
 All out of work, and cold for action ! 
 
 Elij. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead. 
 And with your puissant arm renew their feats; 
 You are their heir, you sit upon their throne; 
 The blood and courage, that renowned them. 
 Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege 
 Is in the very May-morn of his youth. 
 Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
 Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs of the 
 earth 
 Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, 
 As did the former lions of your blood. 
 
 West. They know your grace hath cause, and 
 means, and might; 
 So hath your highness; never king of England 
 Hath nobles richer, and more loyal subjects; 
 Whose hearts have left their bodies here 111 England, 
 And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France. 
 
 Cant. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege, 
 With blood, and sword, and tire to win your rights 
 In aid whereof, we of tlie spirituality 
 Win raise your highness such a miglity sum. 
 As never did the clergy at one time 
 Bring in to any of your ancestors. 
 K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade the 
 French ; 
 But lay down our proportions to defend 
 Against the Scot, who will make road upon us 
 With all advantages. 
 
 Cant. They of those marches.^ gracious sovereign. 
 Shall be a wall sutticient to deli?nd 
 Our inland from the pilfering borderers. 
 K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing snatchcrs 
 only. 
 Rut fear the main intendment' of (he Scot, 
 Who hath been still a giddy neighbor to ns; 
 For you shall read that my great grandliithcr 
 Never went with his forces into Fra:ice, 
 
 'Make showy or sjiecious » Derived tiis title. 
 
 9 Liiy open. 1 At tlio l>:iUle ot Crcssy. 
 
 »The liortlers of Englaud and Scolhiuil. 
 •General dispositiou. 
 
 Rut that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom 
 Came pouring, like the tide into a breach. 
 With ample and brim fullness of his Ibrce; 
 Galling the gleaned land with hot essays; 
 Girding with grievous siege, castles and towns; 
 That England, being empty of defence. 
 Hath shook, and trenibled at the ill neighborhood. 
 
 Cant. She hath been then more lear'd' tli*n 
 harm'd, my liege: 
 For hear her but exampled by herself, — 
 When all her chivalry hath been in France, 
 And she a mourning widow of her nobles. 
 She hath herself not only well delended, 
 But taken, and impounded as a stray. 
 The king of Scots, whom she did seiid to France, — 
 To till king Edward's fame with prisoner kings; 
 And make your chronicle as rich with praise. 
 As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
 With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. 
 
 IVest. But there's a saying, very old and true, — 
 If ttiat ynu will France win, 
 Ttten witti Scoilandjirst begin.- 
 For once the eagle England being in prey, 
 To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot 
 Conies sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs; 
 Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat. 
 To spoil and havoc more than she can eat. 
 
 Exe. It follows then, the cat must stay at home: 
 Yet that is but a curs'd necessity; 
 Since we have locks to salljguard neces.'jaries, 
 And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. 
 While that the armed hand doth light abroad. 
 The advised head detends itself at home: 
 For government, though high, and low, and lower, 
 Put into parts, doth keep in one concent; 
 Congruing'' in a full and natural close, 
 Like music. 
 
 Cant. True: therefore doth heaven divide 
 
 The state of man in divers functions. 
 Setting endeavor in continual motion; 
 To which is lixed, as an aim or butt. 
 Obedience: for so work the honey bees; 
 Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
 The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
 They have a king, and oHicers of sorts:^ 
 Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings. 
 Make boot upon the summer's velvet bifds; 
 Which pillage they with merry inarch bring home 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor: 
 Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
 The singing masons building roofs of gold; 
 The civil citizens kneading up the honey; 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
 Their heavy burdens at his n.arrow gate; 
 The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, 
 Delivering oVr to executors' pale 
 The iazy yawning drone. I this infer,— 
 That many tilings, having tu!l reference 
 To one concent, may work contrariously ; 
 As many arrows, loosed several ways. 
 Fly to one mark; 
 
 As many several ways meet in one town; 
 As many fresh streams run in one self sea ; 
 As many lines close in the dial's centre; 
 So many a thousand actions, once albot. 
 End in one purpose, and be all well borne 
 Without defeat. Therefore to France, ray liege. 
 Divide your happy England into lour; 
 Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
 And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. 
 If we. with thrice that power left at home. 
 Cannot deli^nd our own door from the dog, 
 Let us be worried; and our nation lose 
 The name of hardiness, and policy. 
 
 A'. Hen. Call in the messengers, sent from tlie 
 dauphin. 
 [Exit an Attendant. The King asce mis Ill's Throne, 
 Now are we well resolv'd: and. — by God's help. 
 And yours, the noble sinews of our power, — 
 France being ours, we'll bend it to tnir awe, 
 Or break it all to pieces: Or there we'll sit. 
 Ruling in large and ample einpery,* 
 O'er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms; 
 Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn. 
 
 \ 
 
 •* Frightenefl. * Agreeing 
 ' Executioners. 
 
 " DifTe. ent depreeft. 
 **Domii\ on. 
 
Act 11 Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY Y. 
 
 307 
 
 Tombless, with no romembrance over them: 
 Either our history shall, witli lull mouth, 
 Speak (reely ol'our acts; or else our grave. 
 Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongucless mouth, 
 Not uorsliipp'd with a waxen epitaph. 
 
 Enter Ambassadors r^f France. 
 Now are we well prcpar'd to loiow fne pleasure 
 Of our lair cousin dauphin; for we hear, 
 Your ;;reetin^ is iroin him, not from the king. 
 
 Afii'i. May it please your majesty, to give us leave 
 Freely to render what we have in charge; 
 Or ■^liull we sparingly show you far oil" 
 TIio dauphin's meaning and our emhassy ! 
 
 A'. Jkn. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king; 
 Under whose grace our passion is a subject, 
 As are our wretches fettor'd in our prisons: 
 Tlierelbre, with frank and with uncurbed plain- 
 ness, 
 Tell us the dauphin's mind. 
 
 Atn'/. Tlius then, in few. 
 
 Your lii^hness, lately sending into France, 
 Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 
 Of your great predecessor, king Kdward tJie third. 
 In answer of which claim, the prince our master 
 Says, — tliat 3'ou savor loo much of your youth; 
 And bids you be advls'd, there's nought in France, 
 That can be with a nimble galliard" won; 
 You cannot revel into dukedonis tlicre: 
 Ho therelbre sends you, mceter for jour spirit, 
 Tills tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, 
 Desires you, let the dukedoms, tluit you claim. 
 Hear no more of you. This the daupliin speaks, 
 
 A', hctu What treasure, uncle? 
 
 Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege. 
 
 A'. Hen. We arc glad., the dauphin is so pleasant 
 with us. 
 His present, and our pains, we thank you for: 
 When we have matchM our rackets to tiiese balls, 
 We will, in France, by (loci's grace, play a set. 
 Shall strike his liitber's crown into the hazard:^ 
 Teii him, he bath made a match with such a 
 
 wrangler. 
 That all the courts of France will be disturb'd 
 Willi chaces.^ And we uuderstond him well, 
 How he comei5 o'er us with our wilder days, 
 Not measuring what use we made of them. 
 
 We never valued this poor seal * of England ; 
 And tberc/ore, living hence.* did give oursclf 
 To bari)arous license; As 'tis ever common. 
 That men arc merriest when they are from home 
 But tell the dauphin, — I will keep my state; ■ 
 Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness, 
 When 1 do rouse me in my throne oi" France: 
 For that 1 li;r\-e laid by my majesty, 
 And plodded like a man lor working-days; 
 But 1 will rise there with so full a glory. 
 That I will daz/Je aU the eyes of Fmnce, 
 Vea. strike the dauphin blind to look on us. 
 And tell the pleasant prince, — this mock 01 his 
 Plath turned his balls to gun-stones; and ins soul 
 Shall stand sore charged lor the wasteful vengeance 
 That sliall tiy with them: for many a thousand 
 
 widows 
 Shall this ins mock mock out of their dear hus- 
 bands; 
 Mock mothers from thcirsons. mock castJcsdown; 
 And some are yet ungotten, and unborn. 
 Tliat sliall have cause to curse the dauphin''s scorn. 
 But this lies all within the will of God, 
 To whom I do ajipeaJ; and in wliose name, 
 Tell you the dauphin,! am coming on. 
 To vcnge uie as 1 may, and to put lorth 
 My rightful hand in a v/ell-haUow'd cause. 
 So. get you hence in peace; and tell liie dauphin, 
 His jest will savor but of shallow wit, ^ 
 Wlieu thousands weep, more than did laugh at it. — 
 Convey them with sale conduct. — Faro you well. 
 [Exeunt Ambassadors. 
 
 Exe. This was a merry message. 
 
 K. lien. We hope to make the sender blush at it. 
 [Descends frwn his Throne, 
 Therefore, my lords, omit no happy liour. 
 That may give furliierance to our expedition: 
 For we liave now no thought in us but France; 
 Save those to Ood, ihat run belbrc our busi.ucss. 
 Therelbre, let our proportions ibr these wars 
 Be soon collected; and ail things thought upon, 
 That may, wilh reasonable swillness, add 
 More feathers to our wings; for, (iod beli>re, 
 We""!! chide this dauphin at his lather's door. 
 Thorelbio. let every man now task his thought, 
 Tliat tJiis fair action may on loot be brought. 
 
 {Exeunt 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Ch'T. Now all the youth of EugUmd are on fire. 
 And silken dalliance m the wardrobe Hcs; 
 Now thrive tlie armorers, and lionor\s thought 
 Reigns s<»loly in the breast of every man: 
 They sell the pasture now. to buy "tlie horse; 
 Following the mirror of ail Christian kings. 
 With vvuigcd heels, as Koglish Mercuries. 
 For now sils Expectatiiui in the air; 
 And hides a sword, from 'iilts unto tlie point, 
 Willi crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, 
 Proinis'd to Harry, and his followers. 
 The French, advis'd by good intelligence 
 Of this mosi, dreadful prei)aration. 
 Sh;.Uc in their fear; and with pale policy 
 Seek to divert tlie English purposes. 
 O Kiiglaiid ! — model to thy nivvind greatness, 
 Like little body wjiii n mighty heart, — 
 What might'st th'.>u do, that honor would thee do, 
 Wi;re ;itl thy children kind and natural! 
 But see thy fault! Fiance hath in thee found out 
 A nest o'C liollow bosoms, which ho tills 
 With treacherous crowns: and three corrupted 
 
 men,— 
 One. Richard earl of Cambridge; and the second, 
 Heui'y ]ord Scroop of I^hishain; and the third, 
 Sir Thomas (Irey. knight of NorthumberUind,— 
 Hav.\ tor tbi' giU=^ of France, (O guilt, indeed!) 
 ConlirmM conspiracy with fearful Fiance; 
 Ajid l.y lh<^;r hands this grace of kings must die, 
 (It tiell and treason hold tiieir proinises,) 
 
 ■ .\n .'incient danco. 
 
 'A jiUce in the tennis-court, into which the ball is 
 lOtnuiimtiS struck ^A term at tenuis. ^Golii. 
 
 Ere he take ship for Franco, and in Southampton. 
 Linger your patience on; and well digest 
 The abuse of distance, while we ibrce a play. 
 The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed; 
 The king is set from London; and the scene 
 Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton: 
 There is the playhouse now, there must you sit: 
 And thence to France shall we convey you safe, 
 And bring you back, charming' liic narrow seas 
 To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, 
 We'll not otlcnd one stomach with our play. 
 But, till the king comes forth, and not till then, 
 L'nto Southampton do we shift our scene. [Exit 
 
 SCENE L— London. Beffrt-c Quickly^s House in 
 Eastcheap. 
 
 Enter Nym and Baudolph. 
 
 Bard. Well met, corporal Nym. 
 
 i\'!jm. Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph. 
 
 Bai'd. What, are ancient Pistol and you I'riends 
 yet? 
 
 Nym-. For my part, I care not; I say little: but 
 when time shall serve, there sliall he smiles; — but 
 that shall be as it may. 1 dare not fight; but I vdll 
 wink, and holdout mine iron: It is a simple one; 
 but wliat tlioiigli? it will toast cheese; and it will 
 endure cold as another man's sword will: and 
 there's the humor of it. 
 
 Bard. I will bestow a breakfast, to make you 
 friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to 
 France; lot it bo so. good corporal Nym. 
 
 Nym. 'Faith, I will live so long as"l may, that's 
 the certain of it; and when Icannot liveany longer 
 
 * The throne. 
 
 ^M'ithdrawing from the court 
 
•sm 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 I will do as I may : tliat is my rcst,= tliat is the ren- 
 dezvous of it. 
 
 Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married 
 to NellQuickly: and, certainly, she did you wrong; 
 for you were troth-plight to her. 
 
 Mi/m. I cannot tell; things must be as they may: 
 mcii may sleep, and they may have their throats 
 ^bout them at that time; and some say, knives 
 have edges. It must be as it may: though patience 
 be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be 
 conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. 
 
 Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Bard. Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife: — 
 good coporal, be patient here.^How now, mine 
 host Piston 
 
 Pi.'it. Base tike,' call'st thou me — host ! 
 Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; 
 Nor sliall my Nell keep lodgers. 
 
 Quick. No, hy ray troth, not long: for we cannot 
 lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen, 
 that live honestly by the prick of their needles^ but 
 it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. 
 [NvM draws his sword.] O well-a-day. Lady, if he 
 be not drawn now ! Lord ! here's corporal Nym's 
 — now shall we have willful adultery and murder 
 committed. Good lieutenant Bardolph, — good cor- 
 poral, offer nothing here. 
 
 Nt/m. Pish! 
 
 Phf. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd 
 cur of Iceland! 
 
 Quick. Good corporal Nym, show the valor of a 
 jnan, and put up thy sword. 
 
 Ai/m. Will you shog oil'! I would have you 
 solus. [Skeathing his swurd. 
 
 Pist. SoZks, egregious dog? viper vile! 
 The solus in thy most marvellous face; 
 The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, 
 And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy ;• 
 And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! 
 I do retort the solus in thy bowels: 
 For I can take, and PistoPs cock is up, 
 And (lashing fire will Ibllow. 
 
 JV(/m. I am not Barbason;' you cannot conjure 
 me. I have a humor to knock you iiidilTerently 
 well: If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour 
 you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms: If 
 you would walk olT, I would prick your guts a 
 little, in good terms, as I may; and that's the hu- 
 mor of it. 
 
 Pist. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight! 
 The grave dotli gape, and doting death is near; 
 Therefore exhale.' [Pistol and Ny.m draw. 
 
 Bard. Hear me, hear me, what I say: — he that 
 strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up "to the hilts, 
 as I am a soldier. [Draws. 
 
 Piil. An oath of mickle might: and fury shall 
 abate. 
 Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give; 
 Thy spirits are most tall. 
 
 I^t/m. I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in 
 fair terms; that is the humor of it. 
 
 Pist. Coii]i le gorge, that's the word? — I thee defy 
 again. 
 
 hound of Crete,' think'st thou my spouse to 
 
 get? 
 No ; to the spital' go, ^ 
 
 And from the powdering tub of infamy, 
 Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,* 
 Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse: 
 
 1 have, and I will hold, the quondam^ Quickly 
 For the only she; and — Pauca, there's enough. 
 
 Enter the Boy. 
 
 Boy. Mine host. Pistol, you must come to my 
 master, — and you, hostess; — he is very sick, and 
 would to bed. — Good Bardolph, jiut thy nose be- 
 tween his sheets, and do the ollicc of a warming- 
 pan : 'faith, he's very ill. 
 
 Bard. Away, you rogue. 
 
 Quiclt.. By my troth, lie'II yield the crow a pud- 
 ding one of these days: tiic king has killed his 
 heart. Good husband, come home presently. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Quickly and Boy. 
 
 * Determination. ' DoS- ^pai-pieul 
 
 (•Name of a demon. > IJreathe your last, 
 »Iilooil hounil. ^Hospital. 
 
 *0f Cressida's nature, see the pl;iy of Troilus ami 
 Cressiila. ^Formerly. 
 
 Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends? We 
 must to France together; Why, the devil, should 
 we keep knives to cut one another's throats? 
 
 Pist. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food 
 howl on ! 
 
 Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of 
 you at betting? 
 
 Puit. Base is the slave that pays. 
 
 Ni/m. That now I will have; that's the humor 
 of it. 
 
 Pist. As manhood shall compound; Push home. 
 
 Bard. Hy this sword, he that makes the first 
 thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword, I will. 
 
 Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have 
 their course. 
 
 Ban?. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, bo 
 friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies 
 with me too. Pr'ythee, put up. 
 
 Nym. I shall have my eight shillings, I won of 
 you at betting? 
 
 Pist. A noble' shalt thou have, and present pay 
 And liquor likewise will I give to thee. 
 And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: 
 I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me;— 
 Is not this just? — for I shall sutler be 
 Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 Nym. I shall have my noble? 
 
 pist. In cash most justly paid. 
 
 Nym. Well, then, that's the humor of it. 
 Re-enter Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Quick. As you ever came of women, come in 
 quickly to sir John: Ah, poor heart! heissoshaked 
 of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most la- 
 mentable 10 behold. Sweet men, come to hiin. 
 
 Nym. The king hath run bad humors on the 
 knight, that's the even of it. 
 
 Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right ; 
 His heart is fracted and corroborate. 
 
 Nym. The king is a good king: but it must be aa 
 it may; he passes some humors, and careers. 
 
 Pist. Let us condole the laiight; for, lambkins, 
 we will live. [Excu7it. 
 
 SCENE II. — Southampton. A Council-Chamber. 
 
 Enter Exeter, Bedeord, and Westmoreland. 
 
 Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these 
 traitors. 
 
 Exe. They shall be apprehended by-and-by. 
 
 West. How smooth and even they do bear them- 
 selves ! 
 As if allegiance in their bosoms sat. 
 Crowned with laith, and constant loy.alty. 
 
 Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, 
 By interception which they dreain not of. 
 
 Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, 
 Whom he hath cloy'd and graced with princely 
 
 favors, — • 
 That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
 His sovereign's life to death and treachery! 
 Trumpet sound.s. Enter KiXG Hexry, Scroop, 
 Cambridge, Grey, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 A'. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will 
 aboard. 
 My lord of Cambridge, — and my kind lord of Ma- 
 sham, — 
 
 And you, my gentle knight, give me your 
 
 thoughts: 
 Think you not, that the powers we bear with us, 
 Will cut their passage through the force of France; 
 Doing the execution, and the act. 
 For which we have in head' assembled them? 
 
 Scroop. Nodnubt.my liege, ifeach mando his best. 
 
 A'. Hen. I doubt not that: since we are well per- 
 suaded. 
 We carry not a heart with us from hence. 
 That grows not in a fair consent with ours ; 
 Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish 
 Success and conquest to alieiid on us. 
 
 Cam. Never was monarch [n'tter fear'd.and lov'u 
 Than is your majesty; there's not. I think, a subject, 
 Tliat sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
 Under the sweet shade of your government. 
 
 Grey. Even those, thatwerc your father'senemies, 
 Have steep'd their galls in honey; and do serve you 
 With hearts create of duty and of zeal. 
 
 ' A coin, value six shillings and eight-pence. ' Force. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KIXG HENRY V. 
 
 309 
 
 K. Hen. We llierelbre have great cause oTthank- 
 rulness; 
 And shall Ibrgct the oflice of our hand. 
 Sooner than quittance'^ cl'desert and merit, 
 According to tlio woi^^ht and worthiness. 
 
 Scnto/). So service shall with steeled sinews toil; 
 And labor shall rclresh itself with hope; 
 To do your grace incessant sen'ices. 
 
 A'. Heji. We judge no less. — Uncle of Exeter, 
 Enlarge the uiau committed yesterday. 
 That raird against our person ; we consider. 
 It was excess of wine that set liim on ; 
 And, on his more advice, we pardon him. 
 
 Scroop. Tliat's mercy, but too much secm'ity: 
 Let him be punisii'd, sovereign; lest example 
 Breed, by his sulferancc, more of such a kind. 
 K. Hen. 0, let us yet be merciful. 
 Cant. So Duiy your highness, and yet punish too. 
 Greij. You siiow great mercy, if you give hiui 
 lilc. 
 After the taste of much correction. 
 
 K. Hen. Alas, your too mucli lu\'e and care of me 
 Are heavj- orisons" 'gainst this poor wretch. 
 If little laults. proceeding on distemper. 
 Shall not be vvink'd at, how shall we stretch oureyc. 
 When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and di- 
 gested, 
 Appear before us? — We'll yet enlarge that man. 
 Though Cambridge, Scroop, aiid Grey, — in their 
 
 dear care, 
 And tender preservation of our person, — 
 Would have him punish'd. And now to our French 
 
 causes; 
 Who are the late* commissioners 1 
 
 Cam. I one, my lord; 
 Your highness liade me ask for it to-day. 
 Scrofip. So did you me, my liege. 
 Orcy. And me, my royal sovereign. 
 K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there 
 is jours; — 
 There yours, lord Scroop of Masham ;— .and, sir 
 
 knight, 
 Grey of Northumberland, this same is j-ours: — 
 Head them; and know, I know your worthiness. — 
 M}' lord of Westmoreland, — and uncle Kxeter, — 
 We will aboard to-night. — Why, how now, gentle- 
 men f 
 What see you in those papers, that y6u lose 
 So much complexion? — look ye, liow they change? 
 Their cheeks arc paper. — Why, what read you 
 
 there. 
 That hath so cowardcd and chasM j'our blood 
 Out of appearance? 
 
 Coin. I do confess my firult: 
 
 And do submit me to your. highness' mercy. 
 Greif. Scrofip. To which we all apjieal. 
 K. lien. The mercy, that was quick'' in us but 
 late. 
 By your own counsel is suppressed and killM: 
 You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; 
 For your own reasons turn into your bosoms. 
 As dogs upon their masters, worrying them. — 
 See you, my princes, and my noble peers. 
 These English monsters! Aly lord of Cambridge 
 
 here, — 
 You know, how apt our love was, to accord 
 To furnish him with all apperlinents 
 Belonging to his honor; and this man 
 Halli, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd 
 And sworn unto the practices of France, 
 To kill us here in Hampton: to the which. 
 This knight, no less for bounty bound to us 
 Than Cambridge is,— hath likewise sworn :— But O! 
 What shall 1 say to thee, lord Scroop; thou cruel, 
 Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature! 
 Thou, that didst bear the key of all ray counsels. 
 That knew'st the very bottom of my soul. 
 That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, 
 Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use? 
 May it be possible, that foreign hire 
 Could out of thee extract one spark of evil. 
 That might annoy my linger? 'tis so strange. 
 That though the truth of it stands otf as gross 
 As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it. 
 Treason, and murder, ever kept together. 
 As two yoke-devils sworn to cither's purpose. 
 Working so grossly in a natural cause. 
 
 ^RecomiiensG. 
 'Lately ai'iJoiuteil. 
 
 24 
 
 ^ Pravers 
 'Living. 
 
 That admiration did jiot whoop at them: 
 But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in 
 Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder: 
 And whatsoever cuiuiing fiend it was. 
 That wrought ujion thee so preposterously, 
 ll'ath got the voice in hell ibr excellence: 
 .■\nd other devils, that suggest by treasons, 
 Do botch and bungle up damnation 
 With patches, colors, and with forms being fetch'd 
 From glistering semblances of piety; 
 But he, that tempcr'd" thee, bade thee stand up. 
 Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do trea- 
 son. 
 Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. 
 If that same demon, that hath guU'd thee thus, 
 Slioiild Willi his lion gail,' walk the wliole world, 
 He might return to vasty Tarlar' back, 
 And tell the legions — I can never win 
 A soul so easy as that Knglishman's. 
 0, how hast thou with jealousy inlccted 
 The sweetness of alliance! Show men diiilifull 
 Why, so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why, so didst thou: Come they of noble lamily? 
 Why, so didst thou: Seem they religious? 
 Why, so didst thou: Or are they spare in diet; 
 Free from gross j)assion, or of mirth, or anger; 
 Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood; 
 Garnish 'd and deck'd in modest complement; 
 Not working with the eye, wilhout the ear. 
 And, but in purged judgiuent, trusting neither? 
 Such, and so finely liolled,' didst thou seem: 
 And thus Ihy lall hath left a kind of blot. 
 To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued, 
 With some suspicion. 1 will weep for thee; 
 For this revolt of Ihine, methinks, is like 
 .Another liiU of man. — Their laults are open, 
 Arrest them to the answer of the law; — 
 .\nd God acquit them of their practices! 
 
 i'xf. I arrest Ihee of high treason, by the name 
 of Richard earl of Cambridge. 
 
 I arrest (hee of high treason, by the name of 
 Henry lord Scroop of Masham. 
 
 I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
 Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland. 
 
 Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discover'd; 
 .\nd 1 repent my luult, more than my death; 
 Which i beseech >our highness to forgive, 
 .\lthough my body pay the price of it. 
 
 Cayn. Forme— lliagold of France did not seduce; 
 Although 1 did admit it as a motive. 
 The sooner to ellect what I intended: 
 But heaven be thanked for prevention: 
 Which I in suflerance heartily will rejoice, 
 Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me. 
 
 Grey. Never did (iiithfnl subject more rejoice 
 At the discovery of most dangerous treason, 
 Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself. 
 Prevented l>om a damned enterprise: 
 My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. 
 
 K. Hen. God quit jou in his mercy! Hear 3'ou 
 sentence. 
 You have conspired against our royal person, 
 Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his 
 
 cotTers 
 Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death; 
 Wherein you would have sold your king to 
 
 slaughter. 
 His princes and his jieers to servitude. 
 His subjects lo oppression and contempt. 
 And his whole kingdom unto desolation. 
 Touching our person, seek we no revenge: 
 But we our kingdom's saii^ly must so tender. 
 Whose ruin }ou three sought, that to her laws 
 We do deliver you. (iet you therefore hence, 
 Poor miserable wretches, to your dealli: 
 The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you 
 Patience to endure, and true repentance 
 Of all your dear olfenccs!— Bear them hence. 
 
 [Exeunt Cmuspiratur.^, guardt<U 
 Now. lords, for France; the enterprise whereof 
 Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. 
 We doubt not of a fair and lucky war; 
 Since God so graciously hath brought to light 
 This dangerous treason, lurking in our way. 
 To hinder our hegiimings. we doubt not now, 
 Hut every rub is smoothed on our way. 
 Then forth, dear countrjinen; let us deliver 
 
 -Rendered thee ])lial)le. * Pace, step. ^ Tartarus 
 ^ Accomi'lisbment. 'Sifted. 
 
370 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Our puissance into the hand of God, 
 Putting it straight in expedition. 
 Chcerly to sea; the signs of war advance: 
 No king of England, if not king of France. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Mrs. QncKLY'a House in Eastchcap. 
 
 Enter Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Nvm, Bardolpii, aitd 
 Boy. 
 
 Quick. Pr'ytliee, honey-sweet husband, let me 
 bring thee to Staines. 
 
 Fist. No; for my manly heart doth yearn.' — 
 Bardolph, be blithe;— Nym, rouse thy vaunting 
 
 veins; 
 Boy, bristle thy cour.-igc up; for Falstaffheis dead. 
 And we must yearn therefore. 
 
 Bard. 'Would, I were with him, wheresome'er 
 he is, either in heaven, or in hell ! 
 
 Qttici!. Nay, sure, he's not in hell; he's in Ar- 
 thur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 
 'A made a hner end, and went away, an it had been 
 anychristom^ child; "a parted even just between 
 twelve and one, eVn at turning oHhe tide: for after 
 I saw liim fumble with the sheets, and play with 
 flowers, and smile upon his Hnger's ends, I knew 
 there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp 
 as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, 
 sir John? quoth I: what, man ! be of good cheer. 
 So 'a cried out-flod, God, God ! three or four times: 
 now I, to comlbrt him, bid him, 'a should not think 
 of God; I hoped, there was no need to trouble him- 
 eelf with any such thoughts yet: So, 'a bade me lay 
 more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the 
 bed. and felt them, and they were as cold as any 
 stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and 
 upward, and all was cold as any stone. 
 
 Nijm. They say, he cried out of sack. 
 
 Quick. Ay, that 'a did. 
 
 Bard. And of woman. 
 
 Quick. Nay, that 'a did not. 
 
 Bill/. Yes, that 'a did ; and said, they were devils 
 incarnate. 
 
 Qakk. 'A could never abide carnation: 'twas a 
 color he never liked. 
 
 Bi>!/. 'A said once, the devil would have him 
 ahout women. 
 
 Quick. '.\ did in some sort, indeed, handle wo- 
 men: but tlien he was rheumatic 'and talked of the 
 whore of Babylon. 
 
 Bin/. Do you not remember, 'a saw a tlea stick 
 upoii Bardolph's no.se; and 'a said, it was a black 
 soul burning in hell-tire? 
 
 Bard. Well, tlie fuel is gone, that maintained 
 that lire: that's all the riches 1 got in his service. 
 
 Nym. Shall we shog off? the king will be gone 
 froiii Southampton. 
 
 Pi:it. Come, let's away.— My love, give me thy 
 lips. 
 Look to my. chattels, and my moveables: 
 Let senses rule; the word is, Pitc/t and pay; 
 Trust none; 
 
 For oaths are straws, men's faiths arc wafer cakes, 
 And hold-last is the only dog. my duck; 
 Therefore, cavetn be thy counsellor. 
 Go, deer thy crystals. — Yoke-fellows in arms, 
 Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my bojs; 
 To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! 
 
 Boi/. .4.nd that is but unwholesome Ibod, they say. 
 
 I'usl. Touch her soft mouth and march. 
 
 Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her. 
 
 Nijm. I cannot kiss, tiiat is the humor of it; but, 
 adie.u. 
 
 Piit. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I 
 thee command. 
 
 Quick. Farewell; adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— France. ,4 Riianiinthe French King's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter tlie French king attended,- tlit Dacpiiis, tlie 
 Duke of Buiigu.sdv, //le Constable, and otiiers. 
 Fr. King. Thus come tlie Englisli with full 
 power upon us; 
 
 And more than carefully it us concerns, 
 
 To answer royally in our delcnces. 
 
 Therelbre the duke of Berry, and of Brciagne, 
 
 *Oriove. " A chilil not more than arucrath old. 
 
 ' Mrs. Quickly meanb lunatic. 
 
 Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth, — 
 
 And you. prince dauphin, — with all swift despatch 
 
 To line, and new repair, our towns of war. 
 
 With men of courage, and with means defendant: 
 
 For England his approaches makes as tierce, 
 
 As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 
 
 It fits us then, to be as provident 
 
 As fear may teach us, out of late examples 
 
 Left by the fatal and neglected English 
 
 Upon our lields. 
 
 Dau. My most redoubted father, 
 
 It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe: 
 For peace itself should not so duIP a kingdom, 
 (Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in 
 
 question,) 
 But that defences, musters, preparations. 
 Should be maintained, assembled, and collected, 
 As were a war in expectation. 
 Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth. 
 To view the sick and feeble parts of France: 
 And let us do it with no show of fear; 
 No, with no more, than if we heard that England 
 Were busied with a Whitsun morrice-dance : 
 For, my good liege, she is so idly Iving'd, 
 Her sceptre so fantastically borne 
 By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth. 
 That lear attends her not. 
 
 Con. peace, prince dauphin! 
 
 You are too much mistaken in this king: 
 Question your grace the late ambassadors,— 
 With what great state he heard their embassy, 
 How well supplied with noble counsellors, 
 How modest in exception, ^ and, withal. 
 How terrible in constant resolution. — 
 And you shall find his vanities fore-spent 
 Were but the outside of the Roman IJrutus, 
 Covering discretion with a coat of tolly; 
 As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
 That shall first spring, and he most delicate. 
 
 Dau. Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable. 
 But though we think it so, it is no matter: 
 In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh 
 The enemy more mighty than he seems. 
 So the proportions of defence are fiil'd ; 
 Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, 
 Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat, with scanting 
 A little cloth. 
 
 Fr. King. Think we king Harry strong; 
 
 And, princes, look you strongly arm to lueet him. 
 The kindred of him hath been llesh'd upon us; 
 And he is bred out of that bloody strain,' 
 That haunted us in our familiar paths: 
 Witness our too much memorable shame, 
 When Cressy battle fatally was struck. 
 And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand 
 Of that black name, Edward black pri nee of Wales ; 
 Whiles that his mountain sire, — on mountain 
 
 standing, 
 Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, — 
 Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to sec him 
 Mangle the work of nature, and deliice 
 The patterns that by God and by French fathers 
 Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
 Of that victorious stock; and let us tear 
 The native mightiness and fate of him. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. .Embassadors from Henry king of England 
 Do crave admittance to your majesty. 
 Fr. Kins. We'll give them present audience. Go, 
 and bring them. 
 
 [Exeunt Mess, and certain Lords. 
 You see this chase is hotly foUow'd, Ifiends. 
 Dau. Turn head, and stop pursuit: tor coward 
 dogs 
 Most spend their mouths, when what they seem to 
 
 threaten, 
 Runs far belbre them. Good my sovereign. 
 Take up the English short; and let them know 
 Of what a monarchy you are the head: 
 Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
 As self-neglecting. 
 
 Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and Tram. 
 Fr. King. From our brother England? 
 
 Exc. From him: and thus he greets your ma 
 jesty. 
 
 2 Render it callous, insensiljle. 
 
 3Iu making objections. *Lineago 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 371 
 
 lie wills you, in the name of God Almii^hty, 
 
 Tiiat you divest yourseli; and lay ajiart 
 
 The borrowed glories, that, by giTt of iieaven, 
 
 By law of nature, and of nation^;, 'long 
 
 To him, and to his heirs; namely, the crown, 
 
 And alt wide-stretched honors that pertain, 
 
 By custom and the ordinance of times, 
 
 Unto the crown of France. That you may know, 
 
 'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim, 
 
 PickM from the worm-holes of long-vanishM days, 
 
 Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, 
 
 He sends you this most memorable line, 
 
 [Gives a paper. 
 In every branch truly demonstrative; 
 Wilhng you overlook this pedigree: 
 And, when you find him evenly derivM 
 From his most tamM of famous ancestors, 
 Edward the third, he bids you then resign 
 Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held 
 From him, the native and true cliallcnger. 
 
 />. King. Or else, wliat lollows] 
 
 Ej:e. Bloody constraint; forif you hide the crown 
 Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it: 
 And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, 
 In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove; 
 (That, if requiring fail, he will compel;) 
 And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, 
 Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy 
 On the ijoor souls, for whom this hungrj- war 
 Opens his vasty' jaws: and on your head 
 Turns lie tJie widows' tears, the orphans' cries. 
 The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans, 
 For husbands, lathers, and betrothed lovers, 
 That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. 
 This is his claim, his threat'iiinu'. and my message; 
 Unless the dauphin be in presence here. 
 To wiiom expressly I bring greeting too. 
 
 Fr. King. For us, we will consider of thisfurtlier: 
 To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
 Back to our brother England. 
 
 Dau. For the dauphin, 
 
 I stand here for him; What to him from England! 
 
 K,ce. Scorn and defiance; slight regard, contempt. 
 And any thing that may not misbecome 
 The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. 
 Thus says my king: and, if your father's highness 
 Do not, in grant of all demands at large. 
 Sweeten tlie bitter mock you sent his majesty, 
 He'll call you to so hot an answer for it. 
 That e^ves and wombj' vaultages of France 
 Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock 
 In second accent of his ordnance. 
 
 Dan. Say, if my father render fair reply, 
 It i.s against my will: for I desire 
 Xolhiuii but odds with England: to that end, 
 As matching to his youth apd vanity, 
 I did present liim with those Paris balls. 
 
 Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, 
 Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe : 
 And, be assur'd, you'll find a diflercnce, 
 (As we, his subjects, liave in wonder found,) 
 Between the promise of his greener days. 
 And these he masters now: now he weighs time. 
 Even to the utmost grain; which you shall read 
 In your own losses, if he stay in France. 
 
 /■r. King. To-morrow shall you know our mind 
 at full. 
 
 Exc. Despatch us with all speed, lest that ourking 
 Come here liimself to question our delay; 
 For he is tooted in this land already. 
 
 Fr. King. You shall be soon despatch'd with fair 
 conditions: 
 A night is but small breath, and little pause, 
 To answer matters of this consequence. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III: 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 Chur. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene 
 
 flies, 
 In motion of no less celerity 
 Than tliat of thought. Suppose, that you have 
 
 seen 
 The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
 Embark his royally; and his brave fleet 
 With silken streamers the young Pha;bus fanning. 
 Play witli your lancies; and in them behold. 
 Upon the hempen tackle, ship-hoys climbing: 
 Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
 To sounds confusM: behold the tlireadcn sails, 
 Borne with the invisible and erec|)ing wind, 
 Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, 
 Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think. 
 You stand upon the rivage,' and behold 
 A city on the inconstant billows dancing; 
 For so appears this fleet uuijestical. 
 Holding due course to Harlieur. Follow, follow! 
 Grapple your minds to sternage' of this navy ; 
 And leave your England, as dead midnight, still. 
 Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, 
 Or past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puissance : 
 For who is he, whose chin is but enriclrd 
 With one appearing hair, that will not follow 
 These culPd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? 
 Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a 
 
 siege: 
 BehoUl the ordnance on their carriages. 
 With fatal mouths gasping on girded llarfleur. 
 Suppose, the ambassador from the French coincs 
 
 back; 
 Tells Harry— that the king doth offer him 
 Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry, 
 Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. 
 The otfer likes not: and the nimble gunner. 
 With linstock' now the devilish cannon touches, 
 
 [Alarum; tiiiil Cliambers" go off. 
 And down goes all before them. Still be kind, 
 And oke out our performance with your mind. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 *Rank or shore. ^Sterns of the ships. 
 
 '< Tile staff IV liich holds the match used in firing cannon. 
 ^ Small pieces of ordnance 
 
 SCENE I.— Before Harfleur. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Kixr. Hkxrv, E.xeter, Bedfoud, 
 GuiSTER, and Soldiers, wUli Scaling LttiUers. 
 
 K. Hc». Once mSre unto the breach, dear friends, 
 
 once more; 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead! 
 In peace, there^s nothing so becomes a man, 
 As UKulest stillness and humility: 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger; 
 Stillen the sinews, summon up the blood. 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage; 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; 
 Lei it pry through the portage of the head. 
 Like the'brass cannon; let the brow overwhelm it, 
 As t("arfully, as doth a galled rock 
 OVrhang iind jutty^ his confounded ' base, 
 SwilPd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
 Now set the teeth, and strelch the nostril wide; 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height ! — On, on, you noblest English, 
 Whose blood is let' from fathers of war-prool! 
 leathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
 And sheatliM thi'ir swords for lack of argument.' 
 Dishonor not your mothers; now attest. 
 That those, whom you cali'd fathers, did beget 
 
 you ! 
 Be copy now to men of grosser blood. 
 And teach them how to war! — And you, good 
 
 yeomen. 
 Whose fimbs were made in England, show us here 
 The mettle of your pasture; let us swear 
 That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt 
 
 not; 
 For there is none of you so mean and base, 
 I'hat hath not noble lustre in your ejes. 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips. 
 Straining upon the start. The game's albot; 
 Follow your spirit; and. upon this charge, 
 Cry — God for Harry! England! and saint George! 
 [Exeunt. Alarum, and Cliamhers gu off 
 
 9 A mole to withstand Ihe encroachment of the tiile. 
 I Worn, wasted. ^Fetched. ^ jjatter, suliject. 
 
372 
 
 KING IIEXRY V. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 SCENE 11.— The same. 
 
 Furces pass over; then enter N\'ii, BAnooLpn, Pis- 
 tol, an'l Hoy. 
 Banl. On, on, on, on, on ! to the breach, to the 
 breach ! 
 
 Nijm. 'Pray thee, corporal, stay; the knocks are 
 too hot ; and, for mine own part, I have not a case 
 of lives: tile humor of it is too hot, that is the very 
 plain-song of it. 
 Pist. The plain-song is most just; for humors do 
 abound; 
 Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die; 
 And sword and shield. 
 In bloody field, 
 Doth win immortal fame. 
 Bm/. 'Would I were in an alehouse in London ! I 
 would give all my fame for a pot of ale and saluty. 
 Pist. And I : 
 
 11' wi^lllrs would prevail with me. 
 My pui posi- r.liould not lail with me. 
 But tiulhcr would 1 hie. 
 Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing 
 on bough. 
 
 Enter Fluellen. 
 Flu. Got's plood !— Up to the preaches, you ras- 
 cals! will you not up to the ])reachesi 
 
 [Driving theniforwanl. 
 Pist. Be merciful, Rrcat duke, to men ol mould! 
 Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage ! 
 Abate thy rage, great duke! 
 
 Good bawcock, bate thy rage! use lenity, sweet 
 chuck! 
 Ni/m. Tliese be good humors!— your honor wins 
 bad liumors. 
 
 [Exeunt Ntm, Pistol, mid BAnooLPH, 
 fdUuwed by Fi.ukllen. 
 Bot/. As young as I am, I have observed these 
 throe swashers. I am boy to them all tlircc: but 
 all they three, though they would serve me, could 
 not be man to me: tor, indeed, three such antics do 
 not amount to a man. For Bardolph, — he is white- 
 livered, and red-faced; by tlie means whereof, 'a 
 laces it out, but fights not. For Pistol,— he hath a 
 killing tongue, and a quiet sword: by the means 
 whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weap- 
 ons. For Nym, — he liath heard that men of few 
 words are the best* men; and therelore he scorns 
 to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought 
 a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with 
 a few good deeds ; for 'a never broke any man's 
 head but his own; and that was against a post, 
 when he was drunk. They will steal any thing and 
 call it— purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case; bore 
 it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. — 
 Nym. and Bardolph, are sworn brothers in filching, 
 and in Calais they stole a fire shovel: I knew, by 
 that piece of service, the men would carry coals.' 
 They would have mc as familiar vviih men's pockets 
 as their ijloves or their handkerchiefs: which makes 
 much against my manhood, if 1 should take from 
 another's pocket, to put into mine; for it is plain 
 pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and 
 seek some better service: their villainy goes against 
 my weak stomach. [Exit Boy. 
 
 Re-enter Flcellen', Gokeu fvltowing. 
 Goiv. Captain Fluellen. you must come presently 
 to the mines; the duke of Glostcr would speak with 
 you. 
 
 Fin. To the mines! toll you the duke, it is not 
 so good to come to the mines: For, look ynu, the 
 mines is not according to the disciplinesof the war; 
 the concavities of it is not sullleicnt; for, look you, 
 III' adversary (you may discuss unto the duke, 
 look you) IS diglit' himself four yards under tlic 
 counUTinines: by Choshu, I think, a' will plow up 
 all. if there is not better directions. 
 
 (liiiv. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of 
 the scJOT is given, is altogetherdirccted byan Irish- 
 man; a very valiant gentleman, i'fiitli. 
 Flu. It is captain Macmorris, is it not? 
 (iiiw. 1 think it he. 
 
 Flu. liv Chcshu. he is an ass, as in the 'oiid: I 
 will verity US much in his pearil: he has no more 
 direotioiiK in the true disciiilines of the wars, look 
 you, of tho Roman disciplines, llian is a puppy-dog. 
 
 * llravost. 
 
 ^Pocket arrroiits. 
 
 ODiggel. 
 
 Enter Macmokhis and Jasiy, at a distance. 
 
 Gijw. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, cap- 
 tain Janiy, with him. 
 
 Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gen- 
 tleman, that is certain; and of great expedition, 
 and knowledge, in the ancient wars, upon my par- 
 ticular knowledge *'his directions: by Cheshu, he 
 will maintain his argument as well as any military 
 man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine 
 wars of the Romans. 
 
 Jamij. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen. 
 
 Ftu. God-den to your worship, goot captain 
 Jamy. 
 
 Uow. How now, captain Macmorrisl have you 
 quit the mines ! have the pioneers given o'erl 
 
 Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done: the work ish 
 give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my 
 hand, 1 swear, and by my father's soul, the work 
 ish ill done; it ish give over: I would have blowed 
 up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. 
 0, tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill 
 done! 
 
 Flu. Captain Mai-morris, I peseech you now, will 
 you voufsalc lui-. look you, a liiw diputations with 
 you, as partly louehiiig or concerning the disci- 
 plines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of 
 argument, look you. and friendly communication; 
 partly, to satisfy my opinion, and partly, for the 
 satislaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the 
 direction of the military discipline; that is the 
 point. 
 
 Janty. It sail be very gud,gud feith.gud captains 
 bath: and I sail quit' you with gud levo, as I may 
 pick occasion; that sail I, marry. 
 
 Mac. It is no lime to discourse, so Chrish save 
 me, the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, 
 and the king, and the dukes; it is no time to dis- 
 course. The town is beseecbcd, and the trumpet 
 calls us to the breach; and we talk, and. by Chrish, 
 do nothing; 'tis shame for us all: so God sa' me, 
 'tis shame to stand still: it is shame, by my hand: 
 and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; 
 and there ish nothing done, .so Chrish sa' me, la. 
 
 Janiii. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take 
 themselves to slumber, ailedu gude service, or ailc 
 ligge i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and 
 aile pay it as valorously as I may, that sail I surely 
 do, that is the brefl'and the long : Marry, I wad full 
 liiin heard some question 'tween you tway. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under 
 yourcorrection, there is notmanyof yournation ■ 
 
 Mac. Of my nation] What ish my nation? ish a 
 villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? 
 What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation ? 
 
 Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise 
 than is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, 1 
 shall think you do not use me with that affability as 
 in discretion you ought to use me, look you; being 
 as goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplinesof 
 wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in 
 other particularities. 
 
 Mac. 1 do not know you so good a man as mj'- 
 self: so Chrish save ine, I will cut off your head. 
 
 Udw. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each 
 other. 
 
 Janty. Au! that's a foul fault. 
 
 [A Parley sounded. 
 Gnu: The town sounds a parley. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, when there is more 
 better opportunity to be required, look you, I will' 
 be so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of 
 war; and there is an end. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \\\.— Before the Gales of Harlleur. 
 
 Th" Governor and same Citizens on the Walls; the 
 iOnglish Forces behw. Enter King Hesky ant 
 ills Train. 
 
 K. lien. How yet resolves the governor of the 
 town ? 
 This is the latest parte we will admit: 
 Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves: 
 fir, like to men proud of destruction. 
 Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, 
 ( \ name. that, in my thouKhts, becomes me best,) 
 If 1 begin the Iwllciv once a;;ain, 
 I will not leave the hall-achieved Harlleur, 
 
 ' Kc<iuito, answer. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 3T3 
 
 Till in her ashes she lie buried. 
 Tlie gates of mercy shall be all shut up; 
 4nd tlie flesh'd soldier — rough and hard of heart, — 
 In liberty of bloody hand, siiall range 
 With conscience wide as hell ; mowing lii\e grass 
 Your fresh-air virgins, and your flowering inlants. 
 Wiiat is it then to me, if impious war, — 
 Array'd in llames. like to the prince of fiends, — 
 • Do, with his smirch'd* complexion, all {ell" feats 
 EnlinkM to waste and desolation? 
 What is't to me, when you jourseh'es are cause, 
 If your pure maidens lall into the hand 
 Of hot and forcing violation ! 
 What rein can liold licentious wickedness, 
 Wlien down the hili he holds his tierce career? 
 We maj' as bootless' spend our vain command 
 Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil, 
 As send precepts to the Leviathan 
 To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur 
 Take pity of your town, and of your people. 
 Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; 
 Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 
 O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds 
 Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany. 
 If not, why, in a moment, look to see 
 Tlie blind and bloody soldier with Jbu! hand 
 Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; 
 Your fathers taken b)' the silver beards, 
 And their most reverend heads, dashed to the walls; 
 Your naked inlants spitted upon pikes; 
 Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confusM 
 Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
 At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 
 What say you 7 will you yield, and this avoid? 
 (Jr, guilty in dclence, be thus destroy'd? 
 
 Guv, Our expectation hath this day an end; 
 The dauphin, whom of succor we entreated. 
 Returns us — that his powers are not yet ready 
 To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king, 
 We yield our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy; 
 Enter our gates; dispose of us, and ours; 
 For we no longer are defensible. 
 
 A'. Hen. Open your gates. — Come, uncle Exeter, 
 Go you and enter Harlleur; there remain. 
 And fortify it strongly 'gainst tlie French: 
 Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, — 
 The winter coming on, and sickness growing 
 Upon our soldiers, — we'll retire to Calais. 
 To-night in Harlleur will we be your guest; 
 To-morrow for the march are we addresl.* 
 
 [Ftfjurish. The King, c^c., enter the Town. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Rouen. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Katiiaiii.n'k and Alice. 
 
 K.alh. Alice, tu as esti en Anglcterrc, et tw par- 
 ies hien le language. 
 
 Alice. Vn jieu. inailame. 
 
 Kath. Je te prie, nrenseignez; II fnut que j"'ap- 
 2)rcnne d parttr. Comment appetle: t'ous la main, 
 en Angloisl^ 
 
 Alice. La main? elle est appeW'e, do hand. 
 
 Kath. De hand. Et les rtrngts ? 
 
 Alice. Lesrlfiigfs? ma foy. Je mihlie les doigts; 
 ntais je me snuvienfiray. Les doigts? je pense, 
 qiPils sout apj>ell-'.s de lingres ; out/, de fingres. 
 
 Kath. La main, do. hand; les (loigt s, ilc fingres. 
 Je pen.*;e, que je stiis le lion escotier, Tay gagn<' 
 deux mots d^inglois vistement. Comment apijel.- 
 le~ volts lez angles ? 
 
 Alice. Les angles? les apprllons. (\e nails. 
 
 Kath. Dc nails. Esroutez; dites mt/y, si je parte 
 hien ; de hand, de lingres, de nails. 
 
 Alice. C'cst bien (lit, madamc; it e.st fort bon 
 Anglais. 
 
 Kath. Dites may en Ajfglois, le bras, 
 
 Aliee. De arm, madante. 
 
 Kath. Et le cou'le. 
 ' Alice. De elbow. 
 
 Kath. De elbow. Je m'cn faitz ta repetition de 
 tons les mots, que vous w'r/tr ^ apjyris des a present. 
 
 Alice. 11 cil trap difficile, madame, comme je 
 pense. 
 
 Kath. Excu-iez may, Alice; escoutez: De hand, 
 de fingres, de nails, de arms, de bilbow. 
 
 Alice. De elbow, madame. 
 
 Kath. Seigneur Dieu ! je m^en oublie; De el- 
 bow. Comment appcllez vous le cot? 
 
 ^Soiled ^Cruol. • Without success. * Prepared. 
 
 Alice. De neck, madame. 
 
 Kath. De neck: Et le menton? 
 
 Alice. Dc chin 
 
 Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck: le menton, de sin. 
 
 Alice. Ouy. SuuJ' vo.ttre himneur; en veriti 
 vous pnmonhecs les mots aussi droiet que les natifs 
 d^A ngleterrc. 
 
 Kath. Je 71 e doute point d^apprendre par la grace 
 de Dieu; et en peu de temps. 
 
 .•VI ice. i\" avezvous pas dija oublie ce queje vr'is 
 ay en-'-eignle? 
 
 "Kath. N(m. je reciteray u' vous promptement De 
 hand, de fingre, de mails, 
 
 Alice. De nails, madame. 
 
 Kath. De nails, dc arine, de ilbow. 
 
 Alice. Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow. 
 
 Kath. Ain.n dis je; de elbow, de neck, et de sin: 
 Comment appcllez vous le pieds et la robe? 
 
 Aliee. De foot, vuidame; e/ de con. 
 
 Kath. De foot, et de con? O Seigneur Dieu.' ces 
 .^nnt mtds de son mauvabi, corruptible, gi'osse, el 
 impudiqoe, et mm pour les dames d^ honneur denser: 
 Je ne voudrois prunoticer ces joots devant les .seig^ 
 news de France, pour tout le nwnde. II J'aut He 
 foot, et de con, neant-moins. Je recUerai une 
 autre fois ma lecon ensemble; De hand, de fingre, 
 de nails, dc arm.'de elbow, de neck, de sin, de Ibot, 
 de con, 
 
 Alice. Excellent, madame.' 
 
 Kath. C\st assez pour unejois; allons nous a 
 disner. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE V. — Rouen. A Room in tite Palace. 
 
 Enter the French King, the DAfpnix, DtKE of 
 
 Boriiiiox, the Coxstarle if France, and others. 
 
 Fr. King. 'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river 
 Some. 
 
 Con. .\iid if he he not fought withal, my lord, 
 Let us not live in France: let us quit all. 
 And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. 
 
 Dau. V Dieu vivont! shall a lew sprays of us, 
 The emptying of our liilliers' luxury ,« 
 Our scions put in v.-ild mid savage stock, 
 Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, 
 And overlook their gnifters? 
 
 Bour. Normans, hut bastards Normans, Norman 
 bastards! 
 Mirrt de ma vie.' if they march along 
 Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, 
 To buy a slobbery and a dirty fiirm 
 In that iiook-shoUen' isle of Albion. 
 
 Con. Dieu de battaillcs .' where have they this 
 mettle ? 
 Is not their climate fogg}', raw, and dull? 
 On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
 Killing their fruit wilh frowns? Can sodden water, 
 A drench for sur-rein'd" jades, their barley broth, 
 Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? 
 And shall our cjuick blood, .spirited with wine, 
 Seem frosty ? O, lor honor of our land. 
 Let us not "hang like roping icicles 
 Upon our houses' tiiatcli, whiles a more frosty 
 
 people 
 Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields; 
 Poor — we may call them, in their native lords. 
 
 Dau. liy liiilh and honor. 
 Our madams meek at us; and plainly say, 
 Our mcllle is bred out ; and they will give 
 Their bodies to the lust of English youth. 
 To new-store France with bastard vvarriors. 
 
 Bour. Thev bid us — to the English dancing 
 schools. 
 And teach tarollas high, and swift corantos;' 
 Saying our grace is only in our heels, 
 And that we are most lofty runaways. 
 
 Fr. King. Where is Jlontjoy, the herald ? speed 
 him hence: 
 Let him greet England with our sharp defiance,^ 
 L'p, princes; and wilh spirit of honor cdg'd. 
 More sharper than your swords, hie to the field ■ 
 Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France; 
 You dukes of Orleans, Dourbon. and of Berry, 
 Alen^on, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; 
 Jacques Cbalillion, Rambures, Vaud'emont, 
 Beaumont, Oiandpre, Roussi, and Fauconber, 
 Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; 
 
 «Lust. 'Shooting into promontorie*. 
 
 sOver-riilden. ^Dances. 
 
374 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and 
 
 knights, 
 Foryourgreat seats, now quit you of great shames, 
 Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land 
 With pennons' painted in the blood oT Harllcur: 
 Rush on his host as doth the melted snow 
 Upon the vallies; whose low vassal seat 
 The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: 
 Go down upon him, — you have power enough, — 
 And in a captive cliariot, into Roiien 
 Bring him our prisoner. 
 
 Con. This becomes the great. 
 
 Sorry am I, his numbers are so lew, 
 His soldiers sick, and liimishM in their march; 
 For, I am sure, when he shall see our army, 
 Jie'll drop his heart into the sink of" tear. 
 And, Ibr achievement, oUcr us his ransom. 
 
 i'V. King. Therefore, lord constable, haste on 
 Montjoy : 
 And let him say to Engliind, that we send 
 Tu know what willing ransom he will give. — 
 Prince dauphin, you shall stay witli us in Roiien. 
 
 J)(iu. Not so, I do beseech your majesty. 
 
 Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with 
 us. — 
 Now forth, lord constable, and princes all; 
 And quickly bring us word of England's liill. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— TAc English Camp in Picardy. 
 Etite?' GowER and Fluellen. 
 
 Goic. How now, captain Flucllen? come you 
 from the bridge] 
 
 Flu. I assure you. there is very excellent service 
 committed at the pridge. 
 
 Gitw. is the duke of Exeter safe? 
 
 Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as 
 Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honor 
 with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my 
 life, and my livings, and my uttermnst powers; he 
 is not, (Got be praised, and plessed!) any hurt in 
 the^n•ld; I)ut keeps the pridge most valiantly, with 
 excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at 
 .the pridge, — I think in my very conscience, he is as 
 valiant as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no es- 
 timation in the 'orld: but I did see him do gallant 
 service. 
 
 Goto. What do you call him? 
 
 Flu. He is called — ancient Pistol. 
 
 Goiu. 1 know him not. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Flu. Do you not know him 1 Here comes the 
 man. 
 
 Pist, Captain, I thee beseech to do me favors: 
 The duke of Exeter doth love thee well. 
 
 Flu. Ay, I praise Got; and I have merited some 
 love at his hands. 
 
 Fist. Bardolph.asoldier.firm and aoundof heart, 
 Oi" buxom valor, hath, — by cruel fate, 
 And giddy fortune's furious hckle wheel, 
 Tliat goddess blind, 
 That stands upon tlie rolling restless stone, — 
 
 Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune 
 is painted plind. with a mntfler^ beli)re her eyes, to 
 signify to you that fortune is plind: And she is 
 painted also with a wheel; tosiguily to you, which 
 is the moral of it, that she is turning, and incon- 
 stant, and variations, and niutabilitie.-;; and her 
 foot, look you, is lixed upon a sjiherical stone, 
 which rolls, and rolls, and rolls;— In good truth, 
 the iTOCt is make a most excellent description of 
 Jurliiiie: fortune, look ynu, is an excellent moral. 
 
 Fist Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on 
 him : 
 For li« hath KtoPn a yju*,^ and hanged must 'a be, 
 A damned death ! 
 
 Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, 
 And let not hemp his windpipe suifocate: 
 But lOxeter hath given the doom of death. 
 For pLe of little price. 
 
 Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy voice; 
 And let not BardoiphV vital threnti be cut 
 With ed.iie of penuv cord, and vile icprouch ; 
 Sjieak, Ciiptain, for "his liic, and I will thee requite. 
 
 1 1'cndants, smiill \\-a^9. 
 
 2.\ fol.i of linL-ri \\\\\c\\ partially covered the face. 
 ^A auiiiH box in wliichwere ki^pi Llic coiisecratea w;i- 
 terj 
 
 Flu. Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your 
 meaning, 
 
 FUyt. Why then, rejoice therefore. 
 
 Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to re- 
 joice at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I 
 would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and 
 put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be 
 used. 
 
 Fist. Die and be damned; andjT^o for thy friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Flu. It is well. 
 
 PisL The fig of Spain!* [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Flu. Very good. 
 
 Gow. Why this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; 
 I remember him now; a bawd, a cutpurse. 
 
 Flu. I'll, assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at 
 the pridge, as you shall see in a summer's day: 
 But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that 
 is well, I warrant you, when time is serve. 
 
 Gmv, Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now 
 and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at iiia 
 return into London, under the form of a soldier. 
 And such fellows are perfect in gr^at commanders' 
 names: and they will learn you by rote, where ser- 
 vices were done ; — at such and such a sconce,^ at 
 such a breach, at such a convoy; who came otf 
 bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms 
 the enemy stood on ; and this they con perfectly in 
 the phrase of war, which they trick up with new- 
 tuned oaths: And what a beard of the general's 
 cut, and a horrid suit of the camp, will do among 
 foaming bottles and ale-wash'd wits, is wonderful 
 to be thought on! but you must learn to know such 
 slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellous 
 misiook. 
 
 Flu.. I tell you what, captain Gower; — I do per- 
 ceive he is not the man that he would gladly make 
 show to the 'orld he is; if I lind a hole in his coat, 
 1 will tell him my mind. [Drum heard.] Hark 
 you- the king is coming; and I must speak with 
 him from the pridge. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, and Soldiers. 
 
 Flu. Got pless your majesty ! 
 
 K. lien. How now, Fluellen] camcst thou from 
 the bridge] 
 
 Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of 
 P^xeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge: 
 The French is gone off, look you; and there is gal- 
 lantand most prave passa^csi'AIarry, th'alhversary 
 was have possession of lYie pridge; but he is en- 
 forced to retire, and the duke of Exeter is master 
 of the pridge: I can tell your majesty, the duke is 
 a prave man. 
 
 K. lien. What men have yon lost, Fluellen? 
 
 Flu. The perdition of th'athvcrsary hath been 
 very great, very reasonable great: marry, for my 
 part. I think the duke hath lost never a man, but 
 one that is like to he executed lor robbing a church, 
 one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his 
 face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and 
 liamesof hre; and his lips plows at his nose, and it 
 is like a coal of hre, sometimes plue, and some- 
 times red; but his nose is executed, and his tire's 
 out. 
 
 A". Hen We would have all such oHlmdcrs so cut 
 olf: and we give express charge, that in our marches 
 through the country, there be nothing compelled 
 Jiom the villages, nothing taken but paid for; none 
 ot the French upbraided, or abused in disdainful 
 language; for when lenity and cruelty play tor a 
 kingdomithegcntler gamester is thcsoonest winner. 
 Tucket sounds* Enter Montjoy. 
 
 RIoul. You know me by my habit. 
 
 K. Ih-n. Well then, I know thee: What shall I 
 know of thee! 
 
 Mi>nU My master's mind. 
 
 K. Uin. Unfold it. 
 
 lilonf. Thus says my king: — Say thou to Harry 
 of Knghind. Tiiough we seemed dead, we did but 
 slei'p; Advantage is a better soldier, than rashness. 
 Tell him we rould have rebuked him at Hardour; 
 but that we thought uot good toltruisean injury, 
 Idl il were full ripe: — now we speak upon ourcuc.* 
 ;nid our voicr is imperial: England shall repent his 
 folly, see his weakness, and admire our sullcranco 
 
 ■' All allusion to the custom in Spain ami Italy of giv 
 in^' poisoned li|^3. ^ An eali-enchmciit haaiily tlirowu up 
 *- In jn-oper time. 
 
Scene VU. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 375 
 
 Bid him, therefore, consider of his ransom; which 
 must proportion the Josses we have borne, the sub- 
 jects we liave lost, the disgrace we have di^^ested; 
 which, in weii^ht to re-answer, Jiis pettiness would 
 bow under. For our losses, liis exchequer is too 
 poor; tor the ellusion of our blood, the muster of 
 liis kingdom too faint a number; and for our dis- 
 grace, his own person, kneeling at our feet, but a 
 weak and wortliless satislaclion. To this add — de- 
 fiance: and tell liim, lor conclusion, he hath be- 
 trayed his followers, whose condemnation is pro- 
 nounced. So far my king and master; so much my 
 ollice. 
 
 K. He?}. What is thy name 1 I know thy quality. 
 
 Mont. Montjoy. 
 
 A'. Hen. Thou dost thy oflice fairly. Turn thee 
 back. 
 And tell thy king, — I do not seek Iiim now; 
 But could be willing to march on to Calais 
 Without impeaciiment:' lor, to say the sooth, 
 (Though His no wisdom to confess so much 
 Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,) 
 My people arc with sickness much enfeebled; 
 Aly numbers lessenM ; and those few 1 have 
 Almost no better than so many French; 
 Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, 
 I thought upon one pair of English legs 
 Did march three l''renchmen.—Yet,Ibrgivc me, God, 
 That I do brag thus! — this your air of France 
 Hath blown tliat vice in me; I must repent. 
 Go, theretbre, tell thy master here I am ; 
 My ransom, is this frail and worthless trunk; 
 My army, but a weak and sickly guard; 
 Yet God belbre,^ tell iiiin we will come on, 
 Though France himself,and suchanother neighbor. 
 Stand in our way. There's for thy labor, Montjoy; 
 Go, bid thy master well advise Iiimself: 
 If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd. 
 We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
 Discolor: and so, Montjoy, lare you well. 
 The sum of alt our answer is hut this: 
 We would not seek a battle, as we arc; 
 Nor. as* we are, we say, we will not siiun it; 
 So tell your master. 
 
 Mont. 1 shall deliver so. Thanks to your high- 
 ness. [Ex'd Montjoy. 
 
 Glo. I hope they will not come upon us now. 
 
 K. Hen. We are in God's hand, brother, not in 
 theirs. 
 March to the bridge; it now draws toward night; — 
 Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves; 
 And on to-morrow bid them march away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII. — The French Camp 7?car Agincourt. 
 Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ram- 
 
 BURKS, the DviiE OF Orleans, Dauphin a/tU ot Iters. 
 
 Con. Tut! I have the best armor of the world. — 
 'Would it were day. 
 
 Orl. You have an excellent armor; but let my 
 horse have his due. 
 
 Con. It is the best horse of Europe. 
 
 Ort. Will it never be morning] 
 
 Bau. My lord of Orleans, aucl my lord high con- 
 stable, you talk of horse and armor, — 
 
 Orl. Vou are as well provided of both, as any 
 prince in the world, 
 
 Dau. What a long night is this! 1 will not 
 
 change my horse with any that treads but on four 
 pasterns. Ca, ha.' He bounds from the earth, as if 
 Lis entrails were haii-s!3/e cheval votant, the l*e- 
 gasus,qui a Ics narines de ftu/ When I bestride 
 him. 1 soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the 
 earth sings when he louebes il ; tlic basest horn ol 
 his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. 
 
 Orl. He's of the color of the nutmeg. 
 
 D(fu. And of the heat ot the ginger. It is a beast 
 for Perseus: he is pure air and lire; and llie dull 
 elements of earth and water never api)ear in him, 
 hut only in patient stillness, while his rider mounts 
 him: he is, indeed,a Iiorse; and all other jades you 
 may call — beasts. 
 
 Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and 
 excellent horse. 
 
 JJoH. It. is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is 
 like the bidding of a monarch, and "his countenance 
 enforces homage. 
 
 ' Ilinderaiice. ^Then used for Ood beinfj my guide. 
 '•Alluding to the bounding of tenuis-balls, which were 
 ptulled ^Yith hair. 
 
 Orl. No more, cousin. 
 
 Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit, that caionot, from 
 the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, 
 vary deserved praise on my palfrey: it is a theme 
 as liuent as the sea; turn the sands into eloquent 
 tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: 
 'tis a subject lor a sovereign to reason on, and for a 
 sovereign's sovereign to ride on; and for the world 
 (familiar to us, and unknown) to lay apart their 
 particular functions, and wonder at him. I once 
 writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus: Won- 
 tier of tiafnre, — 
 
 Orl. I iiavc lieard a sonnet begin so to one's 
 mistress. 
 
 Dau. Then did they imitate that which I com- 
 posed to my courser; for my horse is my mistress, 
 
 Orl. Your mistress bears well. 
 
 I)uu. Me well; which is the prescript praise and 
 perfection of a good and particular mistress. 
 
 Con. Ma foyf the other day, mctJiought, your 
 mistress shrewdly shook your back. 
 
 Dau. So, perhaps, did yours. 
 
 Ctni. Mine was not bridled. 
 
 Dau. 0! then, belike, she was old and gentle; 
 and you rode^like a kerne' of Ireland, your French 
 Jiose oil', and in your strait trossers.^ 
 
 Con. You have good judgment in horsemanship. 
 
 Dau. Be warned by me then: they that ride so, 
 and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs; Iliad rather 
 have my horse to my mistress. 
 
 Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade. 
 
 Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears 
 her own hair. 
 
 Con. 1 ccnild make as true a boast as that, if I 
 had a sow to my mistress. 
 
 Dm\. he chien est rrtourne a son propre vomls.^e- 
 ment.et la truie lav'ee au hour bier: fchou makest 
 use of any thing. 
 
 Con. Yet do 1 not use my horse for my mistress; 
 or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose. 
 
 Ram. My lord constable, the armor, that 1 saw in 
 your tent lo-night,are those stars, orsuns, upon it] 
 
 Con. Stars, my lord. 
 
 Dau. Some of them will Axil to-morrow, I hope. 
 
 Cjm. And yet my sky shall not want. 
 
 Dau. That may be, for you bear a many super- 
 fluously; and 'twere more'honor, some were away. 
 
 C(rn. Even as your liorse hears your praises; who 
 would trot as well, were some of your bra^s dis- 
 mounted. 
 
 Dau. 'Would I were able to load him with his 
 desert! Will it never be day ! I will tvot to-morrow 
 a miic, and my way shall be paved with English 
 faces. 
 
 Con. I will not say so, for fear I should be faced 
 out of my way: But I would it were morning, for 
 I would fain be about the ears of the English. 
 
 Ham. Who will go to hazard with mc tor tweaty 
 Enjilish prisoners? 
 
 Con. You must first go yourself to hazard, ere 
 you have them. 
 
 Dau. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. [Exit. 
 
 Orl. The daujihin lungs for morning. 
 
 Ram. He longs to eat the English. 
 
 Con. I think, he will eat all he kills. 
 
 Orl. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant 
 prince. 
 
 C(m. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out 
 the oath. 
 
 Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentleman of 
 France. 
 
 Con, Doing is activity: and he will still he doing. 
 
 CM. He never did Iiarm, that I Iieard of. 
 
 Con. Nor will do none to-morrow; he will keep 
 that good name still. 
 
 Orl. I know him to be valiant. 
 
 Cini. I was told that by one who knows liim bet- 
 ter than you. 
 
 Orl. What's he! 
 
 Con. Marry, lie told mc so himself; and he said, 
 he cared not who knew it. 
 
 Orl. He needs luU, it is no hidden virtue in him. 
 
 Con. By my taith. sir, but it is; nevei" any body 
 saw it but iiis lackey: 'tis a hooded valor; and, 
 when it appears, it will bate.^ 
 
 1 Soldier. ^Xiowsers. 
 
 3 An equivoque in terms in falconry: he means his 
 valor is hid from every Itody but his lackey, and when 
 , it appears it will fall off. 
 
376 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act I\, 
 
 Orl. Ill-will never said well. 
 
 Con. I will cap that proverb with — There is flat- 
 tery ill friendship. 
 
 Orl. And I will take up that with — Give the devil 
 his due. 
 
 Con. Well placed; there stands your friend for 
 the devil: have at the very eye of that proverb, 
 with — ;V pox of the devil. 
 
 Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by how 
 much — A fool's bo!t is soon shot. 
 
 Con. You have shot over. 
 
 Orl. 'Tis not the iirst time you were overshot. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord high constable, the English lie 
 within fifteen hundred paces of your lent. 
 
 Con. Who hath measured the ground! 
 
 Mess. 'The lord Grandpre. 
 
 Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman. — 
 Would it were day! — Alas, poor Harry of Eng- 
 land !— he longs not for the damiing, as we do. 
 
 Orl. What a wretched and peevish* fellow is this 
 king of Eugland, to mope with his lat-brained fol- 
 lowers so far out of his knowledge! 
 
 Con. If the English had any apprehension, they 
 would run away. 
 
 Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any 
 intellectual armor, they could never wear such 
 heavy head-pieees. 
 
 Ram. That island of England breeds very val- 
 iant creatures; their mastilTs are of uinuatchable 
 courage. 
 
 Orl. Foolish curs! that run winking into the 
 mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads 
 crushed like rotten apples: You may as well say, — 
 that's a vahant tlea, that dare eat his breaklast on 
 the lip of a lion. 
 
 Con. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with 
 the mastilTs, in robustious and rough coming on, 
 leaving their wits with their wives: and then give 
 them great meals of beef, and iron and steel, they 
 will eat like wolves, and tight like devils. 
 
 Orl. Ay, but these English are slirewdly out of 
 beef. 
 
 Con. Then we shall fmd to-morrow — they have 
 only stomachs to eat, and none to light. Now is it 
 time to arm: Come, shall we about itl 
 
 Orl. It is now two o'clock; but let mc see, — by 
 ten, 
 We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. 
 
 [Exqunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Chorcs. 
 Ckor. Now entertain conjecture of a time, 
 When creepuig murmur, and the poring dark, 
 Fills the wide vessel of the universe. 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of 
 
 night 
 The hum of either army still}'* sounds, 
 That the lix'd seutiiiels almost receive 
 The secret whispers of each other's watch: 
 Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames 
 Each battle sees the other's umber'd^ face: 
 Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 
 Piercing tlie night's dull ear; and from the tents, 
 The armorers, accomplishing the knights, 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up, 
 Give dreadful note of preparation. 
 The country cocks'do crow, the clocks do toll, 
 And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
 Proud of their numbers, and secure iii soul, 
 The confideat and over-lusty' French 
 Do the low-rated English play at dice; 
 And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night. 
 Who, like a foul aud ugly witch, doth limp 
 So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 
 Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
 Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
 The morning's danger; and their gesture sad. 
 Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats, 
 Prcsentetli them unto the gazing moon 
 So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold 
 The royal captain of this ruin'd band, 
 Walking from watch to walch, from tent to tent, 
 Let him cry — Praise and trlory on his head! 
 For forth he goes and visits all his host; 
 Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile; 
 And calls them — !)rothers. friends. and countrymen. 
 Upon his royal face there is no note. 
 IIow dread an army hath enroundod him; 
 Nor doth he dedicate one jot of color 
 Unto the weary and all-watched night: 
 Hut freshly looks, and over-bears attaint^ 
 With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; 
 Tliat every wretch, piniug and pale before, 
 licliolding him, plucks comfort from his looks; 
 A largess universal like the sun, 
 His liberal eye doth give to every one, 
 Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all, 
 Behold, ;is may unworthiness define, 
 A little touch of Karry in the night: 
 And so our scene must to the battle fly: 
 Where (O for pity!) we shall much disgrace, — 
 With four or five most vile and rai^ged foils, 
 Uight ill-dispos'd, in brawl ridiculous, — 
 
 ^ Foolish. CQently, lowly. 
 
 * Discolored by the gleam of the fires. 'Over-saucy. 
 
 The name of Agincourt: Yet. sit and see; 
 Minding s true things, by what their mockeries be. 
 
 [Exit: 
 
 SCENE I.— The English Camp at Agincourt. 
 Enter King Hexky, Bedford, and Gloster. 
 
 A'. Hen. Gloster, tis true, that we are in great 
 danger; 
 The greater therefore should our courage be. — 
 Good-morrow, brother Bedford. — God Almighty! 
 There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
 Would men obscrvingly distil it out; 
 For our bad neighlior makes us early stirrers. 
 Which is both healthful and good Ii'usbandry: 
 Besides, they are our outward consciences, 
 And preachers to us all; admonishing, 
 That we should dress us f.iirly tor our end. 
 Thus may we gatlier honey from the weed, 
 And make a moral of the devil himself. 
 
 Enter Erpingham. 
 Good-morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham: 
 A good soft pillow for that good wiiite head 
 Were better than a churlish turf of Frani e. 
 
 Erp. Not so, ray liege; this lodging likes me 
 better, 
 Since I may say — now lie I like a king. 
 
 K. lien. "'Tis good for men to love their pr'^-.'-pt 
 pains. 
 Upon example; so the spirit is eased : 
 And, when the mind is quicken'd. out of doubt. 
 The organs, though defunct and dead before. 
 Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move 
 With castcd slouirh'* and fresh legerity.* 
 lA'ud me thy cloak, sir Thomas.— Brothers both, 
 Commend me to the princes in our camp; 
 Do my good-morrow to them; and anon, 
 Desire them all to my pavilion. 
 
 Glo. We shall, my liege. 
 
 [Exeunt Gloster aiid Bedford. 
 
 Erp. Shall I attend your grace ^ 
 
 K. Hen. No, my good knight; 
 
 Go with my brothers to my lords of England; 
 I and my bosom must debate a while, 
 And then I would no other company. 
 
 Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry. 
 
 [E.mt Eltl'INGIIAM. 
 
 K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart! tliou speakest 
 clieerfutly. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 Pist, Qui va la^ 
 K. Ilea. A friend. 
 
 ^ Calliiif; to rememlimnce. 
 
 "Sl'tnijh is the skid which serpents aiiuually tlirow otT. 
 
 ' Liyhtiiess, nimlileness. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 377 
 
 Pist. Discuss unto me; Art thou oflioer; 
 Or art thou base, common, and popular ! 
 
 A'. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. 
 
 Pis/. Trailest thou the puissant pike! 
 
 K. Hen. Even so: What are you ! 
 
 PisL As ^ood a gentleman as the emperor, 
 
 K. Hen. Then you are a better than t!ie king. 
 
 Pi\t. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold, 
 A lad of life, an imp of fame; 
 Of parents good, ol hst most valiant: 
 1 kiss his dirty shoe, and from my licart-strings 
 1 love the lovely bully. What's thy name I 
 
 K. Hen. Harry le Hoy. 
 
 Tist, Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cor- 
 nish crew? 
 
 K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman. 
 
 Pl^t. Knowest thou Fluellcn? 
 
 A". Hen. Yes. 
 
 Pisi. Tell him, Til knock his leek about his pate. 
 Upon saint David's day. 
 
 A'. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your 
 cap that day, lost lie knock that about yours. 
 
 Pis/. Art thou his friendl 
 
 K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 
 
 Pist. The figo for thee then! 
 
 K. Hen. I thank you: God be with you. 
 
 Pisf. My name is Pistol called. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. It sorts well with your fierceness. 
 
 Enter Fluellen and Gower, severally. 
 
 Gow. Captain Fluellen! 
 
 Flu. So! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak 
 lower. It is the greatest admiration, in the univer- 
 sal 'orld, when the true and auncient prerogatifes 
 and laws of the wars is not kept: if you would 
 take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey 
 the Great, you shall tind, I warrant you, that there 
 is no tiddle taddle, or pibble palible. in Pompey's 
 camp; I warrant you, you shall lind the ceremonies 
 ot tlie wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it. 
 and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be 
 otherwise. 
 
 GtJW. Why, the enemy is loud; you heard him 
 all night. 
 
 Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a 
 prating coxcomi), is it meet, think you. that we 
 should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a 
 prating coxcomb; in your own conscience nowT 
 
 GdW. I will speak lower. 
 
 Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. 
 [Exeunt Gowkr and Fi,uei-len. 
 
 A". Hen. Though it appear a little out of fashion. 
 There is much care and valor in this Welshman. 
 
 Enter Bates, Court, and Williams. 
 
 Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn- 
 ing which breaks yonder] 
 
 Bates. I tliink it be: but we have no great cause 
 to desire the approach of day. 
 
 IVi/L We see yonder the 'beginning of tlie day. 
 but, I tlunk, wc sliall never see tlic end of it. — 
 Who trnes there? 
 
 K. Hen. A friend. 
 
 Will. Under what captain serve you? 
 
 K. Hen. Under sir Thomas Eipingham. 
 
 Will. A good old commander, and a most kind 
 gentleman: I pray you, wliat thinks he of ourestate? 
 
 K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that 
 look to be washed olf the next tide. 
 
 Bales. He hath not told his thought to the king"? 
 
 K. Hen. No: nor it is not meet he sliould. For, 
 tliough I speak it to you, I tliink, the king is but a 
 man, as I am: the violet smells to him, as it doth 
 to nie; the element shows to him, as it doth tome; 
 all his senses have but human conditions:^ liis ce- 
 remonies laid by. in his nnJ^edness lie appears but 
 a man; and (hough hisalTections aa-e higher mount- 
 ed than ours, yet, when they stoop, tliey stoop with 
 the like wing; therefore, when he sees reason oi' 
 fears, as we do, his tears, out of doul)t, be of the 
 same relish as ours are: Yet, in reason, no man 
 should possess him with any appearance of fear, 
 lest he, l»y showing it, sliould dishearten his army. 
 
 Bates. He may show what outward courage lie 
 will ; but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could 
 wish himself in the Thames up to the neck: and 
 so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, 
 GO we were quit here. 
 
 2 Qualities 
 
 A'. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
 of the king; I think, he would not wish himself 
 any where but where he is. 
 
 Bates. Then, 'would he were here alone; so 
 should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor 
 men's lives saved. 
 
 K. Hen. I dare say, you love him not so ill, to 
 wish him here alone: howsoever you speak this, to 
 feel other men's minds: Methinks, I could not die 
 any where so contented as in the king's company; 
 his cause being just, and his quarrel honorable. 
 
 Will. That's more than we know. 
 
 Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; 
 for we know enough, if we know we are the king's 
 subjects; if his cause be wrong, our obedience to 
 the king wipes the crime of it out of us. 
 
 Will. But, if the cause be not good, the king 
 himself iiath a heavy reckoning to niake ; when all 
 those legs, and arms, and heads, chopped of!" in a 
 battle, shall join togetlier at the latter day, and cry 
 all — We died at such a place; some swearing; 
 some, crying for a surgeon; some, upon their wives 
 left poor behind them*; some, upon the debts they 
 owe; some, upon their children rawly ^ lelt. I am 
 afeard there are lew die well, that die in battle; tor 
 how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when 
 blood is tbeir argument? Now, if these men do 
 not die well, it will be a black matter for the Idng 
 that led them to it; whom to disobey, were against 
 all proportion of subjection. 
 
 K. Hen. vSo, if a son that is by his father sent 
 about merchandize, do sinfully miscarry upon the 
 sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, 
 should be imposed upon his father that sent him: 
 or if a servant, under his master's command, trans- 
 porting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and 
 die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call 
 the business of the master the author ol the servant's 
 damnation:— But tliis is not so: the Iving is not 
 bound to answer the particular endings of his sol- 
 diers, the father of Iiis son, nor the master of his 
 servant: for they purpose not their death, when 
 they purpose their services. Besides, tliere is no 
 king, be liis cause never so spotless, if it come to 
 the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all 
 unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on 
 thein the guilt of premeditated and contrived mur- 
 der; some of beguiling virgins with the broken 
 seals of perjury ; some, making the wars their bul- 
 wark, that have belbre gored the gentle bosom of 
 peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men 
 have defeated the law, and outrun native punish- 
 ment,* though they can outstrip men, they have no 
 wings to lly from God: war is his beadle, war is 
 his vengeance; so that here men are punished, for 
 before-hreach of the king's laws, in now the king's 
 quarrel: where they teared the death, they have 
 borne life away; and wliere they would be safe, 
 tliev perish: Then if they die unprovided, no more 
 is the king guilty of their damnation, tlian lie was 
 i)efore guilty of those iinj:)ieties ibr the which they 
 are now visi'ted. Every subject'sduty is the king's; 
 but every subject's soul is his own. Thereloro 
 should every soldier in the wars do as every sick 
 man in his bed. wash every mote out of his con- 
 science: and d> iuig so, death is to him advantage; 
 or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein 
 such preparation was gained: and, in him that es- 
 capes, it were nofsin to think, that making God 
 so free an oflcr, he let him outlive that day to see 
 his greatness, and to teach others how they should 
 prepare. 
 
 Ji7//. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill 
 is upon his own head, the king is not to answer 
 for it. 
 
 Bates. I do not desire he should answer forme; 
 and yet I determine to light lustily for him. 
 
 K. Hen. I myself heard the king say, he would 
 not be ransomed. 
 
 Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; 
 but when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, 
 and wc ne'er the wiser. 
 
 A^ Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his 
 word alter. 
 
 Will. ';Mass, you'll pay ^ him then ! That's a peri- 
 lous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and pri- 
 
 aSud.lenly. 
 
 *i. e. Punishment in their native country. 
 
 *To pay here signifies to bring to account, to punish. 
 
378 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act ly. 
 
 vatc displeasure can do against a monarch! you 
 maj'' as well go about to turn the sun to ice, with 
 fiinuing in his face with a peacoclt^s feather. You'll 
 never trust his word after! come, 'tis a foolish 
 sayiuj;. 
 
 K. lien. Your reproof is something too round; I 
 should be angry with you if the time were conve- 
 nient. 
 
 IVUl. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. 
 
 K. Hen. I embrace it. 
 
 WUL How shall I know thee again 1 
 
 K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and I will 
 wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest ac- 
 knowledge it, I will make it my quarrel. 
 
 IViU. Here's my glove; give me another of thine. 
 
 K. Hen. There. 
 
 IVill. This will I also wear in my cap: if ever 
 thou come to me and say, after to-morrow. This is- 
 my glove, by this hand, I will take thee a box on 
 the ear. 
 
 K. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will cliallenge it. 
 
 Will. Thou darest as vv'cU be hanged. 
 
 K. Hen. Well. I will do it,-though I talve thee in 
 the king's company. 
 
 IVill. Keep thy word: fare thee well. 
 
 Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; 
 we have French quarrels enough, if you could tell 
 how to reckon. 
 
 K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty 
 French crowns to one, they will beat us; for they 
 bear them on their shoulders: But it is no English 
 treason to cut Frcncli crowns; and. to-morrow, the 
 kiiij; himself will be a clipper. [Exeunt Soldiers. 
 Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls, 
 Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and 
 Our sins, lay on the king; — we must bear all, 
 O hard condition ! twin born with greatness, 
 Subjected to the breath of every tool, 
 WJiose sense no more can feel but his own wring- 
 ing! 
 What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, 
 Tliat private men enjoy? 
 
 And what have kings, that private have not too. 
 Save ceremony, save general ceremony 1 
 And what art thou, thou idle ceremony? 
 What kind of god art tiiou, that sutfcr'st more 
 Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers? 
 What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in? 
 
 ceremony, show me but thy worth! 
 What is the soul of adoration"? 
 
 Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 
 
 Creating awe and fear in other men ? 
 
 Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd 
 
 Than they in fearing. 
 
 Wliat drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, 
 
 But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, groat greatness. 
 
 And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! 
 
 Think'st thou, the fiery tever will go out 
 
 Witli titles blown from adulation? 
 
 Will it give place to tiexure and low bending? 
 
 Canst tnou, wJien thou comraand'st the beggar's 
 
 knee, 
 Command the health of it ? No, thou proud dream, 
 That phiy'st so subtly with a king's repose; 
 
 1 aui a king, that find thee; and 1 know, 
 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
 The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. 
 The inter-tissued rof)e of gold and i)earl, 
 The larced"* title running 'fore the king. 
 The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
 That boats upon the liigh shore of this world. 
 No, not ail tliese, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, 
 Not all these, laid in bed majestical. 
 
 Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave; 
 
 Who, with a body filPd, and vacant mind, 
 
 Gets him to rest, cranim'd with distressful bread; 
 
 Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ; 
 
 But, like a lackey, from the rise to set, 
 
 Sweats in the eyes of Phoebus, and all night, 
 
 Sloops in Elysium; next day, after dawn. 
 
 Doth rise, and hell) Hyperion' to his Iiorse; 
 
 And follows so the ever-running year 
 
 With protitable labor, to his grave: 
 
 And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, 
 
 Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, 
 
 Had th \ fore-hand and vantage of a king. 
 
 The slave, a member of the country's peace, 
 
 "Farced is stulTed. The tumid puffy titles with which 
 a king's uaiue is iutroduced. 'The sun. 
 
 Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots. 
 What watclj the king keeps to maintain the peac^ 
 WJiosc hours the peasant best advantages. 
 Enter Eupingham. 
 
 Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of youv ab* 
 sence. 
 Seek through your camp to find you. 
 
 A'. Hen. Good old Icnight, 
 
 Collect them all together at my tent : 
 I'll be before thee. 
 
 Erp. I shall do't, my lord. [Eodt. 
 
 K. Hen. God of battles! steel my soldiers' 
 hearts! 
 Possess them not with fear; take from them now 
 The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
 Pluck their hearts from them!— Not to-day, Lord, 
 
 not to-day, think not upon the lUult 
 
 My father made ni compassing tlic crown! 
 
 1 Richard's body liave interred new: 
 
 And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, 
 Tlian from it issued forced drops of tdood. 
 Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay. 
 Who twice a day their wither'd hands liold up 
 Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built 
 Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
 Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do: 
 Though all that I can do, is nothing worth: 
 Since tJiat my penitence comes after all, 
 Imploring pardon. 
 
 Enter Glosteu. 
 Glo. My liege! 
 
 K, Hen. My brother Gloster's voice ? — Ay; 
 
 I know thy errand. I will go with thee: — 
 The day, my friends, and all things stay for me. 
 
 [Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE II— The French Camp. 
 Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, ami others, 
 Orl. The sun doth gild our armor; up, my lords. 
 Dau. Muntez a chevat: — My horse ! valet.' lac- 
 quay. ' — ha! 
 Orl. O brave spirit! 
 
 Dau. Via!^ — les eaux et la terre 
 
 Orl. Rien puisy — /' air et lefeu 
 
 Dau. Ctell cousin Orleans.-^^ — 
 
 Enter Constable. 
 Now, my lord constable ! 
 Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service 
 
 neigh. 
 Dau. Mount them, and make incision in theii 
 iiides; 
 That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, 
 And dout^ them with superfiuous courage:' Ha! 
 Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses' 
 blood? 
 How shall we then behold their natural tears? 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess, The English are embattled, you French 
 peers. 
 
 Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to 
 horse ! 
 Do but behold yon poor and starved band. 
 And your fair show shall suck away their souls, 
 Leavmg them but tlie shales and husks of men. 
 There is not work enough for all our hands; 
 Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins, 
 To give each naked curtle-axe a stain, 
 That our Frencli gallants shall to-day draw out. 
 And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on 
 
 them. 
 The vapor of our valor will o'ertnrn them. 
 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords. 
 That our superlluous lackeys, and our peasants,— 
 Who, in unnecessary action, swarm 
 About our squares of battle, — were enough 
 To purge this field of such a hilding^ foe; 
 Though we, upon this mountain's basis by, 
 Took stand for idle speculation: 
 But that our honors must not. What's to say? 
 A very little little let us do. 
 And all is done. Then let the trumpet sound 
 The tucket-sonuancc,^ and the note to mount; 
 
 ** An old encouraKing exclamation. 
 
 " Do tliem out, extinj^uish ihem. ' Mean, despicable. 
 
 2 The name of an introductory flourish on the trumpet. 
 
ScEN^ in. 
 
 KING HEXRY V. 
 
 379 
 
 For our approach shall so much dare the field, 
 That England sJiall couch down in Ibar, and j'ield. 
 
 Enler Grandpre. 
 Crawl. Wliy do you stay so long, my lords of 
 
 France ] 
 Von island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
 lil-I'avor'dly become the morning field : 
 Their ragged curtains = poorly are let loose. 
 And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
 Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, 
 And liiintiy tli rough a rusty beaver peeps. 
 Their horsemen sit like lixed candlesticks. 
 With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor 
 
 jades 
 Lob dowii tlieir heads, dropping tlie hides and hips ; 
 The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes; 
 And in their pale dull mouths, the gimmal* bit 
 Lies Joul with chew'd grass, still and motionless; 
 And their executors, the knavish crows. 
 Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour. 
 Description cannot suit itself in words. 
 To demonstrate the life of such a battle 
 111 lile so lileless as it shows itself. 
 Cun. They liave said tlieir prayers, and they stay 
 
 for death. 
 Dan. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh 
 
 suits. 
 And give their fasting horses provender, 
 And after light with them? 
 
 C<in. I stay but lor my guard; On, to the field: 
 I will the banner from a trumpet take. 
 And use it lor my haste. Come, come away ! 
 The sun is high, and we outwear the day. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE m.—The EngUsh Camp. 
 
 Enler the English Host; Gloster, Bedford, Exe- 
 ter, Salisbury, and VVestmohelaxd. 
 Gin. Where is the king? 
 
 Beil. The king himself is rode to view their battle. 
 West. Of Hgluing men they have full three-score 
 
 thousand. 
 £,«. There's five to one; besides, they all are 
 
 fresh. 
 Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds, 
 flod be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge: 
 If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven, 
 Then joyfully,— my noble lord of Bedlord, — 
 My dear lord Gloster,— and my good lord Exeter,— 
 And my kind kinsman. — wUrriors all, adieu ! 
 Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury: and good luck go 
 
 with thee ! 
 E.xe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day; 
 And yet 1 do Ihee wrong, to mind thee of it, 
 For thou art framed of the firm truth of valor. 
 
 [l-U'it Salisbcky. 
 Bed. He is as full of valor as of kindness: 
 Princely in botii. 
 
 West. O tliat we now had here 
 
 Enter KiXG Hexrv. 
 
 But one ten thousand of those men in England, 
 That do no work to-day ! 
 
 K. lien. What's he that wishes so? 
 
 My cousin Westmoreland?— No, my lair cousin: 
 It we are mark'd to die, we are enough 
 To do our country loss; and if to live. 
 The li-wer iiieji, the greater share of honor, 
 (iod will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. 
 By Jove, 1 am not covetous for gold; 
 Nor care I, wlio doth leed upon my cost; 
 It yearns' me not, if men my garincnls wear; 
 Such outer things dwell not in my desires: 
 But. it it be a sin to covet honor, 
 I am the most ofieiidiiig soul alive. 
 No, 'laith, my coz, wisii not a man from England: 
 God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor. 
 As one man more, methinks, would share from me. 
 For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more : 
 Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through ray 
 
 host, 
 That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, 
 Let him depart; his passport shall be made. 
 And crowns lor convoy put into his purse: 
 We would not die in t'jiat man's company. 
 That li?ars his fellowship to die with us. 
 
 * Colors. 
 
 <Iling. 
 
 This day is called — the feast of Crispian: 
 He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian: 
 He, that shall live this day, and see old age, 
 Will yearly on the vigil least his friends, 
 And say — to-morrow is saint Crispian: 
 Tlien will he strip his sleeves, and show his scars. 
 And say, these wounds I iiad on Crispian's day. 
 Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, 
 But he'll remember, with advantages. 
 What feats he did that day : Then shall our names, 
 Familiar in their mouths as houseliold words, — 
 ]larr>' the king. Bedlord, and Exeter, 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — 
 Be in their llowing cups freshly remember'd: 
 This story shall the good man teach his son ; 
 And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by. 
 From this day to the ending of the world, 
 But we in it shall be remembered: 
 We lew, we happy lew, we band of brothers; 
 For he, to-day, that sheds his blood with me, 
 Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, 
 Tills day shall gentle his condition:" 
 And gentlemen in England, now a-bed. 
 Shall think themselves accnrs'd they were not here; 
 And hold tlieir manhoods cheap, while any speaks 
 That fought with us upon saint Crispin's day. 
 Enter Saliseurt. 
 Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with 
 speed : 
 The French are bravely in their battle set. 
 And will with all expedience charge on us, 
 K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. 
 JVest. Perish the man, whose mind is backward 
 
 now! 
 A'. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from 
 
 England, cousin? 
 West. God's will, my liege, 'would you and I 
 alone, 
 Without more help, might fight this battle out! 
 A'. Heii. Why, now thou hast uiiwish'd five thou- 
 sand men; 
 Which likes me better, than to wish us one. — 
 Vou know }Our places: God be with you all! 
 Tucket. Enler Mostjoy. 
 Munt. Once more I come to know of thee, king 
 Harry, 
 If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, 
 Belbre thy most assured overthrow: 
 For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf. 
 Thou needs must beenglutted. Besides, in mercy. 
 The constable desires thee — thou wilt mind' 
 Thy fi)llowers of repentance; tliat their souls 
 May make a peaceful and a sweet retire 
 From oil' these fields, where (wretches) their poor 
 
 bodies 
 Must lie and fester. 
 K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now? 
 
 Miint. The constable of France. 
 A. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer 
 back ; 
 Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. 
 Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows 
 
 thus? 
 The man, that once did sell the lion's skin 
 While the beast liv'd, was kiU'd with hunting him. 
 A many of our bodies shall, no doubt. 
 Find native graves; upon the which, I trust. 
 Shall witness live in brass of H)is day's work; 
 And those that leave their valiant bones in France, 
 Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills. 
 They shall be famed; lor there the sun shall greet 
 
 them. 
 And draw their Iionors reeking up to heaven; 
 Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime. 
 The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. 
 Mark then a bouiftling valor in our English; 
 That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing, 
 Break out into a second course of mischief. 
 Killing in relapse of mortality. 
 Let me speak proudly : — Tell the constable. 
 We are but warriors for the working-day: 
 Our gayness, and our gilt,' are all besmirch'd* 
 With rainy marching in the paiiilul field: 
 
 *> i. e. This day shall advance him to the rank of a 
 gentleman. 'Kemind. *" Gilding. "Soiled. 
 
380 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 There's not a piece of feather in our host, 
 (Good argument, I liope, we shall not lly,) 
 And time hath worji us into slovenry: 
 liut, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim : 
 And my poor soldiers tell me — yet ere night 
 They'll Lie in fresher robes; or tliey will pluck 
 The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads, 
 And turn them out of service. If they do this, 
 (As, if God please, they sliall,) my ransom then 
 Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labor; 
 Come tliou no more lor ransom, gentle herald; 
 They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints: 
 Winch if they have as I will leave 'em to them, 
 Shall yield tlicm little, tell the constable. 
 
 Munt. 1 shall, king Harry. And so hue thee well: 
 Thou never shalt hear herald any luoic. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. I lear, thou'lt once more come again lor 
 ransom. 
 
 Enter the Duke of York. 
 
 Yor]z. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg 
 The leading of the vaward.^ 
 K. Hen. Talic it, brave York. — Now, soldiers, 
 march away : — 
 And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day ! 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV.— The Field of Battle. 
 
 Alarums: Excur.iions. Enter French Soldier, 
 PisroL, and Boy. 
 
 Pist. Yield, cur. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gcntil/iomme 
 de bo7ine quallli. 
 
 Piil. Quality, call you me!— Construe me, art 
 thou a gentleman .' What is thy name ! discuss. 
 
 Fr. Sol. U Seigneur Dieu.' 
 
 Plst. O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman:— 
 Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark;— 
 signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,- 
 Except, signieur, thou do give to me 
 Egregious ransom. 
 
 Fr.Sol. 0,prennezmisericorde,' ai/e: piticdemoy. 
 
 Plst. Moy shall not serve, I will have Ibrty moys; 
 For I will letch thy rim s out of thy throat. 
 In drops of crimson blood. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Est il impossible d''eschap2}er le force de 
 ton brae? 
 
 Pi^t. Brass, cur! 
 Thou damned and luxurious' mountain goat, 
 Oller'st me brassi 
 
 Fr.Sol. Oyjmrdonnez moy.' 
 
 Pist. Say'stthoumeso? is that a ton of moys?— 
 Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French, 
 What is his name. 
 
 Boy. Escoulez: Comment esles vous appellc? 
 
 Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Per. 
 
 Boy. He says his name is — master per. 
 
 Plst. Master Fer, I'll fer him, and firk' him, and 
 ferret him:— discuss the same in French unto him. 
 
 Boy. I do not know the French lor fer, and ferret, 
 and lirk. 
 
 Piiit. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Que dll-il. Monsieur? 
 
 Boy. /; me conmiande de vous dire que vous 
 failes vous prest; cur ce soldat icy est dUposi toute 
 a celtc lieure de couper vostre gorge. 
 
 Puit. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant, 
 Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; 
 Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. 
 
 Fr. Sol. 0,je vous supplie pour Pamour de Dieu, 
 me pardonntr! Je -mis gentilhomnie de bonne mui- 
 son: gardez ma vie, etje vous donneray deux cents 
 escus. 
 ■ Pist. What are his words? 
 
 Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gentle- 
 man of a good house; and for his ransom, he will 
 give you two hundred crowns. 
 
 PKt. Tell hiiii,— my fury shalLabate, and I 
 The crowns will take. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il? 
 
 Boy. Encore i/irH c.v/ contre .iini jurement, de 
 pnrdnnner uiu-un pri.voinifr,. neani moins. ixiur les 
 escus iiue ecus rare: protnis, il e.s-t content de vous 
 donncr la liberli, le franckisenient. 
 
 'Vanguard. 
 
 "Ad old cant word for a swovd, so called from a fa- 
 mous swortl cutler of the name of Fox. 
 "The diaphragm. 'Lascivious. 'Chastise. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Surmes genoux,jevuus donnemillere- 
 mcrciemens: et je nPestlme heureux que je suis 
 tonihi enlre les mains d^un chevalier, je pense, le 
 plus brave, valiant, et ires distingue seigneur 
 d^Angteterre. 
 
 Fist. Expound unto me. Boy. 
 
 Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand 
 thanks: and he esteems himself happy that he hath 
 lallen into the hands of (as he thinks) the most 
 brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. — 
 Follow nie, cur. [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Boy. Suivez vous le grand cnpitaine. 
 
 [Exit French Soldier. 
 I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty 
 a heart : but the saying is true, — The empty vessel 
 makes the greatest sound. Bardolph, and Nym, 
 had ten times more valor than this roaring devil 
 i'lhe old play, that every one may pare his nails 
 with a wooden dagger; and they are both hanged; 
 and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing 
 adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, with 
 the luggage of our camp: the French might have 
 a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is 
 none to guard it but boys. [ExU, 
 
 SCENE \.— Another Part of the Field of Battle. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Bourbon, 
 Constable, Rambures, atid others. 
 
 Con. O diable! 
 
 Orl. O Seigneur! — le jour est perdu, tout est 
 perdu.' 
 
 Dau. Alort de ma vie.' all is confounded, all! 
 Reproach and everlasting shame 
 Sits mocking in our plumes.— mcsehanfe fortune.' 
 Do not run away. [.-1 thnrt Alarum. 
 
 Cfm. Why all our ranks are broke. 
 
 Dau. O perdurable" shame! — let's stab ourselves. 
 Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for? 
 
 0/7. Is this the king we sent to (or his ransom? 
 
 Bour, Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but 
 shame! 
 Let us die instant: Once more back again ; 
 And he that will not iiillow liourbon now, 
 Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand, 
 Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door. 
 Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,' 
 His fairest daughter is contaminate. 
 
 Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us ribw! 
 Let us. in heaps, go oflt^r up our lives 
 Unto these English, or else die with fame. 
 
 Orl. We are enough, yet living in the field, 
 To smother up the English in our throngs. 
 If any order might be thought upon. 
 
 Bour. The devil take order now; I'll to the throng; 
 Let life be short; else, shame will be too long. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— Another Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Ki'xa liE};RY, and Forces; Exeter, 
 and others. 
 K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice valiant 
 countrymen: 
 But all's not done, yet keep the French the field. 
 Exe. The duke of York commends him to your 
 
 majesty. 
 K.Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice, within this 
 hour, 
 
 I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting; 
 From helmet to the spur, all blood he was. 
 
 Exe. In which array, (brave soldier.) doth he lie. 
 Larding the plain : and by his bloody side, 
 (Yoke-lellow to his honor-owing wounds,) 
 The noble e;irl of SulTolk also lies. 
 Siilliilk first died: and York, ail haggled over, 
 Coiiu's to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd. 
 And lakes him by the beard; kisses the gashes, 
 Tli;it bloodily did yawn upon his liice; 
 .■VikI cries aloud. — Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk.' 
 My soul shrill thine keep company to heaven: 
 Tarry, sweet S(nil, for mine, thenflq a-hreast; 
 As, in this glorvnts and well-J'oughten field, 
 
 I I 'e keep together in our chivalry.' 
 
 rpon these words I came, and cheer'd him up: 
 He siiiil'd me in the face, raught^ me his hand, 
 
 "Lasting, 'i.e. Who has no more gentility. ^Reached 
 
Scene VII. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 381 
 
 Ami, with a feeble gripe, says,— Dear mij lurU, 
 
 Commend my service to my sovereigti. 
 
 So did lie turn, and over SuUolk's neck 
 
 He threw his ivoiiiided arm, and kiss'd his lips; 
 
 And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 
 
 A testament of noble-ending love. 
 
 The pretty and sweet manner of it forced 
 
 Those waters from me, which 1 would have stopp'd; 
 
 But 1 had not so much of man in me, 
 
 But all my mother came into mine eyes, 
 
 And f^ave me up to tears. 
 
 K. Hen. I blame j'ou not; 
 
 For, hearing this, I must perforce compound 
 With mistful eyes, or they will issue too. — 
 
 [Alarum. 
 But, hark ! what new alarum is tliis same ! 
 The French have reinforced their scattered men:— 
 Then every soldier kill his prisoner; 
 Give the word through. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \U.— Another Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Fluellex and Gov,-ek. 
 
 Flu. Kill thepoys and the luggage! 'tis expressly 
 against the laws of arms: 'tis as arrant a piece of 
 knavery, mark you now, as can be otfer'd in the 
 'orld : In your conscience now, is it not ! 
 
 Gnu: 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; 
 and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, 
 have done this slaughter: besides, they liavc burned 
 and carried away all that was in the king's tent ; 
 wherclbre the king, most worthy, hath caused 
 every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a 
 gallant king! 
 
 Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain 
 Cower. What call you the town's name, where 
 Alcxaiuler the pig was porn] 
 Uiiw. Alexander the great. 
 
 Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The 
 pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the 
 magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the 
 phrase is a little variations. 
 
 Giiw. I think, Alexander the great was born in 
 Macedon; his lather was called— Philip of Mace- 
 don; as 1 take if. 
 
 Flu. 1 think it is in Macedon, where Alexander 
 is jiurn. 1 tell you, captain,— If you look in the 
 m:i|.s of the 'orld. 1 warrant, you shall find, in the 
 coni].ansons between Macedon and Monmouth, 
 tliut the situations, look you, is both alike. There 
 is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover 
 a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye, at Mon- 
 mouth; but it is out of my prains, what is the 
 name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis so like 
 as my lingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons 
 in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry 
 ol Monmouth's lite iscomeaftcr it indillercnt well; 
 for there is figures in all things. Alexander, (God 
 knows, and you know.) in his rages, and his furies, 
 and his wraths, and hischolers, and his moods, and 
 his displeasures, and his indignations, and also be- 
 ing a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales 
 and his angers, look you, kill his pest friend, Clytus. 
 
 G(iw. Our king is not like him in that; he never 
 killed any of his friends. 
 
 Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take 
 tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and 
 hnished. I speak hut in the figures and compari- 
 sons ol It: As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, 
 being m his ales and his cups; so also Harry Mon- 
 nioulh, being m his right wits and his goot judg- 
 ments is turn away the fat knight with' the great 
 Iielly-doublet: he was iiill of jests, and gipes, and 
 knaveries, and mocks- 1 am forget his name. 
 
 G'lu: Sir John Falstaff 
 
 Flu. That is he : I can tell you there is goot men 
 born at Monmouth. 
 
 Giiw. Here comes his majesty. 
 
 Alarum. Enter Kixn Hkxhy, with a part of the 
 English Forces; Warwick, Glosteu, Exeteh, 
 and others. 
 
 gry since I came to 
 
 K. Hen. I was not 
 France 
 
 Until this instant— Take a trumped, herald; 
 Rule thou unto the horsemen on yon hill; 
 II they will fight with us, bid them come down. 
 Or Void the field ; they do otfend our sight: 
 It they'll do neither, "we will come to them ; 
 
 And make lliem skirr» away as swift as stones 
 Fiiiorced lioiii the old Assyrian slings: 
 Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have; 
 And not a man oi them, that we shall take. 
 Shall taste our mercy :— Go, and tell them so. 
 
 Enter MoxTjoy. 
 
 Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my 
 
 liege. 
 Glo. His eyes are humbler than they used to be. 
 A". Hen. How now, what means this, herald? 
 know'st thou not. 
 That I have lined these bones of mine for ran- 
 som! 
 Com'st thou again for ransom? 
 
 Mont. No, great king: 
 
 I come to thee for charitable licence. 
 That we may wander o'er this bloody field, 
 To book our dead, and then to bury them; 
 To sort our nobles from our common men; 
 For many of our princes (woe the while !) 
 Lie drowii'd and soak'd in mercenary blood; 
 (So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
 In blood of princes ;) and their wounded steeds 
 Fret fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage, 
 Ycrk out their armed heels at their dead masters, 
 Killing them twice. 0, give us leave, great king, 
 To view the field in safety, and dispose 
 Of their dead bodies. 
 
 K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald, 
 
 I know not, if the day be ours or no; 
 For yet a many of )our horsemen peer, 
 And gallop o'er the field. 
 Mont. The day is yours. 
 
 K. Hen. Praised be God, and not our strength 
 for it !— * 
 
 What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by? 
 Mont. They call it— Agiiicourt. 
 K. Hen. Then call we this— the field of Agincourt, 
 Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. 
 
 Flu. Your gr.indfather of famous memory, an't 
 please your majesty, and your great uncle Edward, 
 the plack prince of Wales, as I have read in the 
 chronicles, Ibught a most prave pattlehere in France. 
 K. Hen. They did, Fluellen. 
 Flu. Your majesty says very true: If your ma- 
 jesty is remembered of it, the Welshmen did goot 
 service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing 
 leeks in their Monmouth caps; wliich your ma- 
 jesty knows to this hour, is an honoralile'padge of 
 the service; and, I do believe, your niajesly takes 
 no scorn to wear the leek upon saint Ta'vy's day. 
 
 K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honor: 
 For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 
 
 Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash your 
 majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell 
 you that: Got pless it and iireserve it. as long as 
 It pleases liis grace, and his majesty too ! 
 A'. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. 
 Flu. By Cheshu, I am your majesty's country- 
 man, I care not who know it; I will conlcss it to 
 all the 'orld : I need not to be ashamed of your 
 majesty, praised be Got, so long as your majesty is 
 an honest man. 
 K. Hen. God keep me so— our heralds go with 
 him. 
 Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
 On both our parts.— Call ponder follow hither. 
 
 [Points to Williams. Exeunt Moxtjot, 
 and others. 
 Exe. Soldier, you must come to the king. 
 A'. Hen. Soldier, why wear'sfthou that glove in 
 thy cap? 
 
 'Will. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of 
 one that I should fight withaj, if he be alive. 
 K. Hen. An Englishman ! 
 
 IVill. An't please your majesty, a rascal, that 
 swagger'd with me last night : who, if 'a live, and 
 ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to 
 take him a box o' the ear: or, if I can see my glove 
 in his cap, (which he swore, as he was a soldier, he 
 would wear, if alive.) I will strike it out soundly. 
 
 K. Hen. What think you, captain Fluellen? tsit 
 fit this soldier keep his oath? 
 
 Flu. He is a craven ' and a villain else, an't please 
 your majesty, in my conscience. 
 
 A'. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of 
 great sort," quite from the answer of his degree. 
 
 'Scour. 
 
 ^ Coward. 
 
 2 High rank. 
 
382 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Fill. Though lie be as j5oot a gentleman as the 
 tevil is, as Luciter and lieelzcbiib (liniself, it is ne- 
 cessary, look yoLir grace, that he keep his vow and 
 his oath: if he be perjured, see you now, iiis repu- 
 tation is as arrant a villain, ana a Jack-sauce,* as 
 ever his plack shoe trod upon Got's ground and his 
 earth, in my conscience, la. 
 
 A". Hen. "rhen keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou 
 nicet'st thel'ellow. 
 
 IVitl. So I will, my hege, as I live. 
 
 it. Hen. Who scrvest thou under'! 
 
 yViU. Under captain Gower, my liege. 
 
 Flu. Gower is a goot captain: and is good know- 
 ledge and literature in the wars. 
 
 A. Hen. Call him hither to ine, soldier. 
 
 Will. I will, my liege. [Exil. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, FlucUen; wear thou this tavor 
 for me, and stick it in thy cap: When Alen^on and 
 myself were down together, I plucked this glove 
 from his helm: if any man challenge this, he is a 
 friend to AleiK^on, and an enemy to our person; if 
 thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou 
 dost love me. 
 
 Flu. Your grace does me as great honors as can 
 be desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would 
 fain see the man, that has but two legs, that shall 
 lind himself aggrieil'd at this glove, that is all; Out 
 I would fain see it once; an please Got of his grace, 
 that 1 might see it. 
 
 K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower] 
 
 Flu. He IS my dear friend, an please you. 
 
 A'. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him 
 to my tent. 
 
 Flu. 1 will fetch him. [E.xif. 
 
 K. Hen. iVIy lord of Warwick,— and my brother 
 Gloster, 
 Follow Fluellen closely at the heels : 
 The glove, which I have given him tor a favor, 
 May, haply, purchase him a box o^ the ear; 
 It is the soldier's; I, by bargain, should 
 Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick; 
 If that the soldier strike him, (as, I Judge 
 By his blunt bearing, he will keep his word,) 
 Some sudden mischief may arise of it; 
 For I do know Fluellen valiant. 
 And, toncliM with clioler, hot as gunpowder. 
 And quickly will return an injury: 
 Follow, and see there be no harm between them. — 
 Go you with me, uncle of Kxeter. [Kveunt. 
 
 SCENE vni.~Befo)-e King Henry's Pavilion. 
 Enter Gower and Wii.lia.ms. 
 
 Will. I warrant, it is to knight you, captain. 
 Enter Fluellen. 
 
 Flu. Got's will and liis pleasure, captain. I pe- 
 seech you now. come apace to the king: there is 
 more goot toward you, peradveiiture, than is m 
 your knowledge to dream of. 
 
 Will. Sir, know you this glove! 
 
 Flu. Know the glove ? I know the glove is a glove. 
 
 M''ill. I know this; and thus I challenge it. 
 
 [Strikes /lim. 
 
 Hu. 'Sblud, an arrant traitor, as auy's in the 
 universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. 
 
 Ginu. How now, sir! you villain! 
 
 IVill. Do you Ihiuk I'll be liirsworn? 
 
 Flu. Stand away, captain Gower; I will give 
 treason his payment into plows, 1 warrant you. 
 
 Will. I am no traitm-. 
 
 Flu. That's a lie iii tliy throat.— I charge 5'ou, in 
 his majesty's name, apprehend him; he's a friend 
 of the duke Alem^oirs. 
 
 Enter Wahwicic and Gloster. 
 
 War. How now! how now! what's the matter? 
 
 Flu. My lord of Warwick, here is {praised be 
 Got lor it!) a most contagious treason come to 
 light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer's 
 day. Here is his majesty. 
 
 Enter Kinii Henry and E.'Ceter. 
 K. Hen. llriw now, whal's the matter! 
 Hu. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, 
 look your grace, has struck liie glove which your 
 majesty is take out oltlie helmet of Alenron. 
 
 Will. My hege, this was my glove: he're is the 
 fellow of It: and he, that I gave it to in change, 
 ^For saucy Jack. 
 
 promised to wear it in his cap; I promised to f trike 
 him, if he did: I met this m.an with ray glove in 
 his cap, and I have been as good as my word. 
 
 Flu. Your majesty, hear now, (saving your ma- 
 jesty's manhood.) what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, 
 lousy knave it is: I hope your majesty is pear me 
 testimony, and witness, and avouchments, that this 
 is the glove of .\le1190n, that your majesty is give 
 me, in your conscience now. 
 
 K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier; Look, here 
 isthefellowof it. 'Twas I, indeed, thou proniised'st 
 to strike; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. 
 
 Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer 
 for it, if there is any martial law in the 'orld. 
 
 A'. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction? 
 
 Will. All ollences, my liege, come Irom the heart: 
 never came any from inine, that might ofiend your 
 majesty. 
 
 A'. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse. 
 
 Will. Your majesty came not like yourself: you 
 appeared to me but as a common man; witness 
 the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what 
 your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech 
 you, take it tor your own fault, and not mine: for 
 had you been as 1 took you for, I made no otfence; 
 therellire, I beseech your highness, pardon me. 
 
 A'. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, till this glove with 
 crowns, 
 And give it to this fellow.— Keep it, fellow; 
 And wear it for an honor in thy cap. 
 Till 1 do challenge it.— Give him the crowns:— 
 And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. 
 
 Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow has 
 mettle enough in his pelly:— Hold, there is twelve 
 pence for you. and I pray you to serve Got, and 
 keep you out of prawls.and piabbles, and quarrels, 
 and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the petter 
 liir you. 
 
 Will. I will none of your money. 
 
 Flu. It is with a goot will; I can tell you, it will 
 serve you to mend your shoes: Come, wherelbre 
 shoukfyou be so pash'ful? your shoes is not so goot: 
 'tis a goot silling, I warrant you, or I will change it. 
 
 Enter an English Herald. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, herald; are the dead number'd? 
 
 Her. Here is the number of the slaughter'd 
 
 French. [Delivers a})ajjer. 
 
 K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are taken, 
 
 uncle? 
 Exe. Charles duke of Orleans, nephew to the 
 king; 
 John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouciqualt; 
 Of other lords, and barons, knights, and squires, 
 Full tilleen hundred, besides conimon men. 
 K. Hen. This note doth tell me oi' ten thousand 
 French, 
 That in the held lie slain: of princes in this number, 
 And noliles bearing banners, there lie dead, 
 One liundred twenty-six: added to these. 
 Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen. 
 Eight lliousaiid and four hundred; of the which, 
 Five liundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights: 
 So that, ill those ten thousand they have lost, 
 There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; 
 The rest are — princes, barons, lords, knights, 
 
 'squires. 
 And gentlemen of blood and qualily. 
 The names of those their nobles that lie dead,— 
 Charles De-la-bret, high constahle.of France; 
 Jacques of Chatillon, admiral of France; 
 The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures; 
 Great-master of France, the brave sir Guischaid 
 
 Dauphin ; 
 .Tohn duke of Alencon; Antony duke of Brabant, 
 The brother to the duke of Burgundy ; 
 And Edward duke of Bar; of lusty earls, 
 Graiulpre, and Roussi, Fauconberg, and Foix, 
 Beaumont, and Marie, Vaudemont, and Lestrale: 
 
 Here was a royal fellowship of death ! 
 
 Where is the number of our English dead ? 
 
 [Herald presents aimttier paper. 
 Edward the duke of York, the earl 01 Siulbllc, 
 Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esipiire: 
 Nolle else of name : and, of all other men, 
 Uul live-and-lwenly. O God, thy arm was hero, 
 .\iid not to us. but lo thy arm alone. 
 Ascribe we all.— When, without stratagem. 
 But in plain shock and even play of battle, 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 383 
 
 Was ever kiiown so great and little loss, 
 
 On one part and on the other 1 — Take it, God, 
 
 For it is only thuie! 
 
 jLd'e. 'Tis wonderful ! 
 
 A'. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the village: 
 And be it death proclaimed through our host, 
 To boast of this, or tuke that praise from God, 
 Which is his only. 
 
 Ilu. It is not lawful, an please your majesty, to 
 tell how many is killed? 
 
 A'. Hen. Yes, captain, but with this acknowledge- 
 ment, 
 That God Ibught for us. 
 
 F/u. Yes. my conscience, he did us great goot. 
 
 A'. Hen, Do wc all iioly rites; 
 Let there be sung Nun }tuliis, and Te Deum^ 
 The dead with charily enclos'd in clay. 
 We'll then to Calais; and to England then; 
 When ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men, 
 
 {Exeunt . 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Enter Choucs. 
 Cht)r. Vouchsafe to tliose that have not read the 
 
 story, 
 That I may prompt them : and of such as have, 
 1 humhly pray them to admit the excuse 
 Of time, of nuniljers, and due course of things, 
 Wliicli cannot in their hufce and proper life 
 He here presented. Now we Itear tlie king 
 Tiiward Caiias; grant him tJicre; there seen, 
 II('a\'e him away upon your %vtnged thoughts, 
 Atluvart the sea: Behold, the English hcach 
 Pales in the Hood with men, with wives, and boys. 
 Whose shouts and claps out- voice the decp-nioutii'd 
 
 sea. 
 Which, like a mighty whifHer' 'fore the king, 
 Seems to prepare his way: so let him land; 
 And, solemnly, see him set on to Londttu. 
 So .swift a pace hath thought, that e\en now 
 You may imagine him upon BlacMieath: 
 Where that his lords desne him, to have^ borne 
 His bruised helmet, and his bended sword, 
 liefnre him, through the city: he forbids it, 
 Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; 
 Gi\ing full trojihy, signal, and ostent, 
 Quilc from himself, to Cud. But now behold, 
 In the ijuicl; l^ri^e and working-house of thought, 
 }|ow London doth pour our her citizens! 
 The major, and all his brethren, in best sort, — 
 Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
 With the plebians swarming at their heels, — 
 Go Idrth. and letch (heir conquering Cipsar in; 
 As, by a lower but by loving likelihood,'' 
 Were now the general of our gracious empress' 
 (As, in good time, he may) from Ireland coming. 
 Bringing rebellion broached'^ on his sword, 
 How many would the peaceful city quit. 
 To welcome himl much more, and much more 
 
 cause. 
 Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; 
 (.\s yet the lamentatimi of the French 
 invites the king of England's stay at home: 
 The emperor's coming in behalf ol France, 
 To order ])eace between lliem;) and omit 
 AH the occurrences, whatever chanced. 
 Till Harry's back-return again to France: 
 There must we bring him; and myself have play'd 
 The interim, by remembering you — 'tis past. 
 Then brook abridgement ; and your eyes advance 
 After your thoughts, straight back again to France. 
 
 \.Ex-il. 
 
 SCENE L— Fiance. An Englisli Court vf Guard. 
 Enter Fluei^len and Goweh. 
 
 Gow. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your 
 leek to-day! Saint David's day is past. 
 
 Flu. There is occasions and causes whj' and 
 wherefore in all things; I will tell you, as my 
 friend, captain Gower. The rascally, scald, beg- 
 garl\, lousy. ]iraggiug knave, Pistol. — which you 
 and yourself, and all the 'orld, know to be no bet- 
 ter than a Ibllow, look you now, of no merits. — 
 he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt 
 yesterdaj', look you, and pid mc eat my leek: it 
 was in a jiiace where I could not breed no conten- 
 tions with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it 
 in my cap till I see him once again, and then 1 
 will tell him a little piece of my desires, 
 
 * An olticcr who wallo lirst in processions. 
 
 *J. e. To oriler it to lie Iiorne. ^ Siniilitude. 
 
 ' Tlie earl of fcsscx in the reign of Elizabeth. 
 
 * Spitted, traiisfi.\ed. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Gow. Why, here he comes swelling like a turkey- 
 cock. 
 
 Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his 
 turkey-cocks. — Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you 
 scurvy, lousy knave. Got jiless you ! 
 
 Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam! dost thou thirst, 
 base Trojan, 
 To have me fold up Parca's fatal webl 
 Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. 
 
 Flu. I pescech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, 
 at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, 
 to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you 
 do not love it, nor your allections, and your appe- 
 tites, and your digestions, docs not agree with it, I 
 would desire you to eat it. 
 
 Pbit. Not lor Cadvvalladcr and all his goats. 
 
 Flu. There is one goat lor you. [Strikes /dm.] 
 Will be so goot, scald Knave, as eat it ! 
 
 Fv?t. Base Trojan, thou shall die. 
 
 Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got's 
 will is: I will desire you lo live in the mean lime, 
 and eat your vituals; come, there is sauce for it. 
 ISIriking liim aKain.] You called inc yesterday, 
 mountain-squire; but 1 will make you to-day a 
 squire of low degree. I pray yon, tall to; if you 
 can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. 
 
 G(iw. Enough. captain: you have astonished him. 
 
 Flu. I say, 1 will make him eat some part of my 
 Ieck,or I will peat his jialc lour days: — Pite, 1 pray 
 \ou; it is goot for your green wound, and jour 
 bloody coxcomb. 
 
 Fist. Must I bite? 
 
 Flu. Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out 
 of questions too, and ambiguities. 
 
 Fist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; 
 I eat, and eke I swear — 
 
 Flu. Eat, I pray j ou : Will you have some more 
 sauce to your leekl there is not enough leek to 
 swear by. 
 
 Pu,t. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost sec, I eat. 
 
 Flu. Much goot do you, .scald knave, heartily. 
 Nay, 'pray you, throw none away ; the skin is goot 
 for your proken coxcomb. When you take occa- 
 sions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at 
 them; that is all. 
 
 Pist. Good. 
 
 Flu. .\y, leeks is goot:— Hold you, there is a 
 groat to heal your pate. 
 
 Pill. Me a groat ! 
 
 Flu. Yes.verily.and in truth you sliall hake it; or I 
 have another leek in my pocket, w liich you shall eat. 
 
 Pist. I lake thy groat, in earnest of revenge. 
 
 Flu. If 1 owe you any thing, I will P^y you 'n 
 cudgels; you shall he a woodmonger. and buy 
 nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi' you. and 
 keep yon, and heal your pate. [Exit. 
 
 Pist. All hell shall stir lor this. 
 
 G<iW. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly 
 knave. Will >ou mock at an ancient tradition, — 
 begun upon an honorable respect, and worn as a 
 memorable trophy of predeceased valor,— and dare, 
 not avouch in your deeds any of your words ! I have 
 seen you gleeldng" and galling at this gentleman 
 twice or thrice. You thought, because he could 
 not speak English in the native garb, he could not 
 therelore handle an English cudsel: you hnd it 
 otherwise; and heneelorth, let a Welsh correction 
 teach you a good English condition.' Fare j e well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 e ScofEng, sneering. 
 
 'Temper. 
 
384 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Puii. Dolh fortune play the luiswile" with mc 
 now^ 
 News have I, that my Nell is (load i' tlie spital," 
 Of malady of France; 
 And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. 
 Old 1 do wax; and from my weary limbs 
 Honor is cudgcU'd. Well, bawd will I turn, 
 And something lean to cntpurse of quick hand. 
 To England will I steal, and there I'll steal: 
 And patches will I get unto these scars, 
 And swear, I gut them in the Gallia wars. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Troyes in Champagne. An Apart- 
 ment in the French King's Palace. 
 Enteral one door. King Hexry, Bedford, Gloster, 
 ExKTER, Wahwick, Westmoiiei.and. and otiier 
 Lords; at anotlier, tke French King, Queen Isa- 
 bel, llie Pri.sckss Katuakine, Lords, Ladies, (^-C; 
 tke Duke or Buhgusdy, and Aii' Train. 
 K. Hen. Peace to tliis meeting, wherefore we are 
 met ! 
 Unto our brother France,— and to our sister, 
 Health and lair time of day:— joy and good wishes 
 To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine; 
 And (as a branch and member of this royalty, 
 By whom this great assembly is contrived) 
 We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ; — 
 And, princes French, and peers, health to you all! 
 Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your 
 face. 
 Most worthy brother England; fairly met: — 
 So are you, princes English, every one. 
 
 Q. Ixa. So happy bo the issue, brother England, 
 Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting, 
 As we are now glad to behold your eyes; 
 Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them 
 Against the French, that met theni in tlieir bent, 
 The liital balls of murdering l)asilisks; 
 The venom of such looks, we liiirly hope. 
 Have lost their quality; and that this day 
 Shall cliange all griefs, and quarrels, into love. 
 A', lien. To cry amen to that, tlius we appear. 
 Q. ha. You English princes all, I do salute you. 
 Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love. 
 Great kings of France and England! That I have 
 
 labor'd 
 With all iny wits, my pains, and strong endeavors. 
 To bring your most imperial majesties 
 Unto this bar' and royal interview, 
 Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. 
 Since then my oliice hath so tar prevail'd, 
 That liice to liice, and royal eye to eye, 
 You have congreetod: let it not disgrace mc, 
 If I tlemand, before this royal view. 
 What rub, or what impediment, there is. 
 Why, that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, 
 Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births. 
 Should not, in this best garden of the world. 
 Our fertile Fiance, put lip her lovely visagel 
 Alas! she hath from France too long been chas'd; 
 And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, 
 Corrupting in its own fertility. 
 Her vine, the merry eheerer of the heart, 
 Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleach'd, — 
 Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair, — 
 Put firth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas. 
 The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
 Dolh root upon; while that the coulter rusts. 
 Thai should deracinate' such savagery: 
 The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
 The fretrkled cowslip, burnet. and ^reen clover. 
 Wanting the scythe, all unoorrected, rank, 
 CoiK'i'ivcs by idleness; and nothing teeius. 
 But halcful'docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs. 
 Losing both beauty and utility. 
 And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, 
 Defective in their natures, grow to wildncss; 
 Even so our liouses, and ourselves, and children, 
 Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time, 
 * The sciences that should become our country; 
 But grow, like savages, — as soldiers will, 
 That nothing do but meditate on blood, — 
 To swearing, and stern looks, difuis'd" attire. 
 And every thing that seems unnatural: 
 Which to reduce into our former favor,' 
 
 -Tov jilt. 3 Hospital. 
 
 ' Force up hy the roots. 
 ' Appearance. 
 
 ' l?.rrricr. 
 •^Extravagant. 
 
 You are assembled: and my speech entreats, 
 That I may know the let,' why gentle peace 
 Should not expel these inconveniences, 
 And bless us with her former qualities. 
 A'. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you would the 
 peace, 
 Whose want gives growth to the imperfections 
 Which you have cited, you must buy that peace 
 With full accord to all our just demands; 
 Wliose tenors and particular etiects 
 You have, enschedul'd briellv, in your hands. 
 Bur. The king hath heard them; to the which, 
 as yet. 
 There is no answer made. 
 
 K. Hen. Well then, the peace. 
 
 Which you before so urged, lies in his answer 
 
 Fr. King. I have hut with a cursorary eye 
 O'er-glanced the articles: pleaseth your grace 
 To appoint some of your council presently 
 To sit with us once more, with better heed 
 To re-survey them, we will, suddenly. 
 Pass our accept, and peremptory answer. 
 
 K. Hen. Brother, wo shall.— Go, uncle Exeter,— 
 And brother Clarence,— and you, brother Gloster, — 
 Warwick,— and Huntingdon,— go with the king: 
 And take with you free power to ratify, 
 Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
 Shall see advantageabie for our dignity. 
 Any thing in, or out of, our demands; 
 .\nd we'll consign thereto.— Will you, fair sister, 
 Go with the princes, or stay here with us! 
 
 Q. ha. Ourgr.acious brother, I will go with them; 
 Haply, a woman's voice may do some good. 
 When articles, too nicely urged, be stood on. 
 K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here 
 with us; 
 She is our capital demand, comprised 
 Within the lore-rank of our articles. 
 Q. ha. She hath good leave. 
 
 [E.ieunt all hut Heney, Katuakine, 
 and tier Gentlewoman. 
 A*. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair! 
 
 Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms. 
 Such as will enter at a lady's ear. 
 And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? 
 
 Katlt. Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot 
 speak your England. 
 
 K. Hen. fair Katharine, if you will love me 
 soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to 
 hear you confess it brokenly with your English 
 tongue. Do you like me. Kate? 
 Kath.Pa>vtonHc:mo;/.IcannotteIIvatis— likeme. 
 A'. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate; and you are 
 like an angel. 
 
 Kath. Que dll-il? que je suis semblablc a les 
 ange«:' 
 
 Alice. Ouij, vrayment, (sanf vusti-e grace,) ainsi 
 dit-il. 
 
 K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine; and I must 
 not blush to allirm it. 
 
 Kath. bon Dieu/ les tongues des hommes sont 
 pleines des trumperies. 
 
 K. Hen. What says she, fair one! that the 
 tongues of men are full of deceits! 
 
 Alice. Ouii; dat de tongues of de mans is be full 
 of deceits: dat is de princess. 
 
 K. Hen. The princess is the better Euglish- 
 woinan. I'faith, Kate, my wooing is lit for thy 
 uiiik'islandiiig: 1 am glail, thou canst speak no 
 heller KiiL'lish; lor, if tiioii conldst, thou vvouldst 
 find me such a plain king, that thonwouldst think, 
 I had sold my farm to buy my crovv^n. I know no 
 ways to mince it in love, but directly to say — I love 
 you: then, if you urge me further than to say — Do 
 yon, in faith!! wear out my suit. Give me your 
 answer; i'failh, do; and so clap hands and a bai- 
 gatn; How say yon, lady ! 
 Kalli. Satifvhstre iMiineur.me understand well. 
 K. Hen. Marry, if you would jnit me to verses, 
 or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me: 
 for the one, I have neither words nor measure; and 
 for the other, I liave no strengtii in measure," yet a 
 reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a 
 lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with 
 my armor on my back, uiuier the correction of 
 bragging be it spoken. I should quickly leap for a 
 wife. Or, if I might bnlli'l llir my love, or bound 
 my horse for her favors, I could lay on like a 
 •^Ilintlerance. "In ilancing. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 385 
 
 butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never otf: but, 
 before God, I cannot look greenly,' nor gasp out 
 my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in ijrotcsta- 
 tioii; only downright oaths, which I never use till 
 urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst 
 love a fellow of tJiis temper. Kate, whose face is not 
 worth sun-burJiing, that never looks in his glass tor 
 love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy 
 cook. I speak to Ihe plain soldier: If thou canst 
 love me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee — 
 that I shall die, is true; but— for thy love. Iiy the 
 Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou 
 livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoin- 
 ed^ constanc}'; lor he pcrJbrce must do thee right, 
 because he hath not the gift to woo in other places: 
 for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme 
 themselves into ladies' favors — Ihey do always rea- 
 son themselves out again. What ! a speaker is but 
 a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will 
 lall;^ a straight back will stoop; a black beard will 
 turn white; acurled pate will grow bald; a lair liice 
 will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good 
 heart, Kate, is the si4n and moon; or rather the 
 sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and 
 never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou 
 would have such a one, take me: And take me, 
 take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And 
 what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my liiir, 
 and fairly, I pray thee. 
 
 Katfi. Is it possible dat I should love dc enemy 
 of France 1 
 
 K. Hen. No; it is not possible, you should love 
 the enemy of France. Kate; but in loving lue, you 
 should love the friend- of France; for I love Fiance 
 so well, that 1 will not part with a village of it ; 1 
 will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is 
 mine, and I am yours, then yours is Franco, and 
 you arc mine. 
 
 Kath. 1 cannot tell vat is dat. 
 
 K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; 
 which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like a 
 new-rnarrled wile about her husband's neck, hardly 
 to be shook oil'. Qnand fay la pn^xesxwn ile France, 
 et qiiumi raux are: la pimiesswn ile intii. (lot me see, 
 what then! Saint Denis be my speed !i—f/«;(c 
 vostre est France, et iwis es/es mienne. It is as easy 
 Ibr me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom, as to speak 
 so much more French: I shall never move thee in 
 French, unless it be to laugh at me. 
 
 Kath. Sauf vuslre lumneiir. le Francais que rous 
 parlez, est ineUletir que PAngtoLs Icqueljc jmrle. 
 
 K. Hen. No, faith, is't not, Kate: but thy s)>eak- 
 ing of iny tongue, and I thine, most truly lalsely, 
 must needs be granted to be much at one. But, 
 Kate, dost thou understand tlius much English f 
 Canst tjiou love me ? 
 
 Kath. [ cannot tell, 
 
 K. Hen. Can any of your neighbors tell, Kate? 
 I'll ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me: and 
 at night when you come into your closet, you'll 
 question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, 
 Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, 
 that you love with your heart: but, good Kate, 
 mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess, 
 because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, 
 Kate, (as I have a saving iiiith williin me, tells me, 
 —thou Shalt.) I get thee witli scambling. and thou 
 must therelbre needs prove a good soldier-breeder: 
 Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and 
 Saint George, compound a boy, half F'rcnch, halt 
 KiiL'Iish. that shall go to Constantinople, and take 
 the I'urk liy tlie beard? shall we not? what sayest 
 thou. !iower-de-iuce? 
 
 Kath. I do not know dat. 
 
 K. Hen. No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to 
 promise: do but now promise, Kate, you will en- 
 deavor for your French part of such a boy; and, Ibr 
 my English moiety, take the word of a king, and 
 a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Catti- 
 arine ilu monite. man tris chere et divine diesse'/ 
 
 Katti. Your mujesti ^wjausse French enough to 
 deceive de most sage demululle dat is en France. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, fye upon my false French! Hy 
 mine honor, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by 
 which honor I dare not swear, thou lovest me; 
 yet my blood begins la Hatter me that thou dost, 
 
 • '> e. Like a young lover, awkwardly. 
 ^ He meana, resemtiting a plain piece of metal, which 
 has not yet received any impression. ^pall away. 
 25 
 
 notwithstanding the poor and untenipering clfect 
 of my visage. Now bcshrew my father's ambition! 
 he was thinking of civil wars when he got me ; there- 
 fore was 1 created with a stubborn outside, witli an 
 aspect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I 
 fright them. But.'in faith, Kate, the older I wax, the 
 better I shall appear: my comlbvt is. the old age, 
 that ill-layer up of beauty, can do no more spoil 
 upon my face: thou bast me, if thou bast me, at 
 tlie worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear 
 me, better and better; and therefore tell me, most 
 fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your 
 maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart 
 with the looks of an empress: take me by the hand, 
 and say— Harry of England, I am thine: which 
 words thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, 
 but I will tell thee aloud— England is thine, Ire- 
 land is thine, France is thine, and Henry I'lanla- 
 genet is thine; who. though I speak it belbre his 
 fiice, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou 
 .shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, 
 your answer in broken music; for thy voice is 
 music, and lliy English broken: therelbre, queen 
 of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken 
 English, Wilt thou have me? 
 
 Kath. Dat is, as it shall please de ray man pere. 
 
 K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it 
 shall please ium, Kate. 
 
 Kalh. Den it shall also content me. 
 
 A'. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I 
 call you — my queen. 
 
 Kath. Laisse:, nwn seigneur, laisscz, laissez; 
 majhy.je ne veux point que vans abbaisscz viistre 
 grandeur, en baisant la main d^une vaslre indigne 
 serviieur; excuscz may, jt vans supplie, inun Iris 
 puissant seigneur, 
 
 K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips. Kate. 
 
 Kath. Lcs dames, el dtmnisellis. pi lu rest rr hnislcs 
 devant tear jwpces, it «' est pas la coHume de 
 France. 
 
 K. Hen. Madam my interpreter, what says 
 she? 
 
 Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion p(nir les ladies 
 of France,- Icannot toll what is baiser, en F-n^lish. 
 
 K. Hen. To kiss. 
 
 Alice. Your majesty entendre better que mot/. 
 
 K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maid's in 
 France to kiss before they arc married, would she 
 say? 
 
 Alice. Ouy, vrayment. 
 
 K. Hen. O, Kate, nice customs, curt'sy to great 
 kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined 
 within tlie weak list* of a country's faslriou; we are 
 the makers of manners, Kate; and the iilierty that 
 follows our places, stops the mouths of all find- 
 faults; as 1 will do yours, for upholding the nice 
 fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss: 
 therefore, patiently, and yielding. [Kissing tier.] 
 You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate; tlierc is 
 more eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than in 
 the tongue of a French council; and they should 
 sooner persuade Harry of England, tlian a general 
 jietition ol' nionarchs. Here comes your lather. 
 
 Enter the French Kixr. and QfEE.v, BrRGU.NDY, 
 liKiiFoim, Gi.osTEit. ExETKii. Westmoreland, (Jjiii 
 other French and English Lords. 
 
 Bur. God save your majesty! my royal cousin, 
 teach you our princess English! 
 
 A'. Hen. 1 would have her learn, my fair cousin, 
 how perlectly 1 love her; and that is good English, 
 
 Bur. Is she not apt? 
 
 K. Hen. Our tongue'is rough, coz; and my con- 
 dition f* is not snioolh: so that, having neither Ihe 
 voice nor the heart of flattery about me, 1 cannot 
 s(t conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will 
 appear in his true likeness. 
 
 Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I an- 
 swer you lor that. If you would conjure in b.er, 
 you must make a circle: if conjure up love in her, , 
 m his true likeness, he must appear naked, and 
 blind: Can you blame her then, being a maid yet 
 rosed over vvith the virgin crimson of modesty, it 
 she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in 
 her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard 
 condition for a maid to consign to. 
 
 A'. Hen. Yet they do wink, and yield; as love ia 
 blind, and enlbrces. 
 
 * Slight barrier. ^Temper. 
 
386 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Bur. They are then excused, my lord, when they 
 Bee not what tlicy do. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin 
 to consent to winkins- 
 
 Bur. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if 
 you will teach her to know my meaning: for maids, 
 well summered and warm kept, are like flies at 
 Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their 
 eyes; and then they will endure handling, which 
 before would not abide looking on. 
 
 K. Hen. This moral" ties me over to time, and 
 a hot summer; and so I will catch the fly, your 
 cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too. 
 
 Bur. As love is, my lord, before it loves. 
 
 K. Hen. It is so: and you may, some of you, 
 thank love for my blindness; who cannot see many 
 a fair French city, lor one fair p'rench maid that 
 stands in my way. 
 
 Fr. KLnf;. Yes, my lord, you see them perspec- 
 tivcly, the cities turned into a maid; for they are 
 all girdled with maiden walls, that war hath never 
 entered. 
 
 K. Hen. Shall Kate be my wife! 
 
 Fr. King. So please you. 
 
 K. Hen. I am content; so the maiden cities you 
 talk of, may wait on her: so the maid, that stood 
 in the way of my wish, shall show me the way to 
 my will. 
 
 Fi: King. We have consented to all terms of 
 reason. 
 
 K. Hen. Is't so, my lords of England 1 
 
 West. The king hath granted every article: 
 His daughter, first; and then, in sequel, all, 
 According to their firm proposed natures. 
 
 Exe. Only, he hath not yet subscribed this:— 
 Where your majesty demands, — That the king of 
 France having any occasion to write for matter of 
 grant, shall name your highness in this form, and 
 with this addition, in French.— AVre /res cherfilz 
 Henri/, roij iPAngleterre heri/icr de France; and 
 thus in L^tin.—Prwclari'isimusfilius noster Hen- 
 ricus, rex Anglise, cV hxres Francis. 
 
 Fr. King. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied, 
 But your request shall make me let it pass. 
 
 A'.' Hen. I pray you, then, in love and dear alli- 
 ance. 
 Let that one article rank with the rest: 
 And, thereupon, give me your daugllter. 
 
 Fr. King. Take her, fai r son ; and from her blood 
 raise up 
 
 < Application. 
 
 Issue to me: that the contending kingdoms 
 
 Of France and England, whose very shores look 
 
 pale 
 With envy of each other's happiness. 
 May cease their hatred; and Ihis dear conjunction 
 Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord 
 In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance 
 His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. 
 
 All. Ameii! 
 
 K. Hen. Now welcome, Kate:— and bear me wit- 
 ness all. 
 That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. 
 
 [Flourish. 
 
 Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages. 
 Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! 
 As man and wife, being two, arc one in love. 
 So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal, 
 That never may ill office, or fell jealousy. 
 Which troubles oft the bed of blessed mamage. 
 Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, 
 To make divorce of their incorporate league; 
 That English may as French, French Englishmen, 
 Receive each other!— God speak this .\raen! 
 
 All Anipn ! 
 
 K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage :— on which 
 day. 
 My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath. 
 And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.— 
 Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me! 
 And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Chorcs. 
 
 Thus far, with rough, and all unable pen. 
 
 Our bending' author halh pursu'd the story; 
 In little room confining mighty men. 
 
 Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. 
 Small time, but, in that small, most greatly liv'd 
 
 This star of England: fortune made his sword; 
 By which the world's best garden" he achiev'd. 
 
 And of it left his son imperial lord. 
 Henry the sixth, in infant hands crown'd king 
 
 Of France and England, did this crown succeed; 
 Whose state so many had the managing. 
 
 That they lost France, and made liis England 
 bleed : 
 Which oft our stage hath shown; and for their 
 
 sake. 
 In your fair minds let this acceptance take. [Exit. 
 
 'i.e. Unequal to the weight of the subject. » Franco 
 
FIRST PART OF 
 
 KING HENEY VI. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Kino Henry the Sixth. 
 
 Duke of Gi.oster, Uncle to the King, and Pro- 
 tector. 
 
 Duke of Bedford, Uncle to the King, and Regent 
 of France. 
 
 Thomas liEAUFOKT, Duke of Exeter, great Uncle to 
 the King. 
 
 Henry Bkaufort. great Uncle to tlie King, Bi- 
 s/iiip of Wincliester, and afterwards Car- 
 dinal. 
 
 John Bkalfort, Earl of Somerset: afterwards 
 Duke. 
 
 Richard Plantagenet, eldest Son of Ricliard, late 
 Earl of Cambridge; afterwards Duke of 
 York. 
 
 Earl of Warwick. 
 
 Earl ok Salisbury. 
 
 Earl of Suffolk. 
 
 Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl if Shrewsbury. 
 
 John Talbot, liis Son. 
 
 Edward Mortimer, Earl of March. 
 
 Mortimer's Keeper, and a Lawyer. 
 
 Sm John Kastolfe. 
 
 Sir William Lucy. 
 
 Sm William Glandsdale. 
 
 Sir Thomas GARfiRAVE. 
 
 Mayor rf London. 
 
 WooDviLLK, Lieutena7it of tfie Tower. 
 
 Vkbson, if the IVhite Iio.se. or York Faction. 
 
 Hasset. ff the Red Rose, or Lancaster Faction. 
 
 Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France. 
 
 Reigmer. Duke of Anjou, and tUular King (if 
 
 Naples. 
 Duke of Burgundy. 
 Duke of .\lexuon. 
 G(wernor of Paris. 
 Bastard oj Orleans. 
 
 Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his Son. 
 General of the Frencli Forces in Bourdcaux. 
 A Freneli Sergeant. 
 A Pf/rter. 
 
 Margaret, Daughter to Reignier; afterwards mar- 
 ried to King Henry. 
 Countess of Auvergxe. 
 
 Joan la Pucelle, conitnonty called Joan of Arc. 
 Jjirds, IVurders of the Tourer, Heralds. Officers, 
 
 Siddiers, Messengers, ami several Attendants 
 
 both on the Englisii and French. 
 
 SCENE, partly in England, and partly in Frandfe. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Dead March. Corpse of King Henry the Fifth 
 discovered, lying in state,- attended on by I he 
 Dukes of Bedford, Gloster, and Exeter; the 
 Eari, of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, 
 Heralds, <^c. 
 
 Bed. Hung lie the heavens with black, yield day 
 to night! 
 Comets, importing change of times and states. 
 Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky; 
 And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, 
 Tliat have consented unto Henry's death! 
 Henry the Filth, too famous to live long! 
 England ne'er lost a king of so much W'orth. 
 
 Gin. England ne'er bad a king until his time. 
 Virtue he had. deserving to command : 
 His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams; 
 His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; 
 His spaikling eyes, replete with wrathful tire. 
 More (l;r/zled and drove l)ack his enemies, 
 Than inid-day sun. tierce bent against their faces. 
 What should I say ] his deeds exceed all speech, . 
 He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered. 
 
 Exe. We mourn in black; Why mourn we not 
 in blood T 
 Henry is dead, and never shall revive 
 3S7 
 
 Upon a wooden cotfm we attend; 
 And death's dishonorable victory 
 We will our stately presence glorify. 
 Like captives bound to a triumphant car. 
 What? shall we curse the planets of mishap. 
 That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ! 
 Or shall we think the subtle-witted French 
 Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him. 
 By magic verses' have contrived his end] 
 
 Win. He was a king blcss'd of the King of 
 kings. 
 Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day 
 So dreadful will lud be, as was his sight. 
 The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: 
 The church's prayers made him so prosperous. 
 
 Glo. The church! where is it? Had not church- 
 men pray'd. 
 His thread of life had not so soon decay'd : 
 None do you like but an erteminate prince. 
 Whom, like a school-hoy, you may over-awe. 
 
 jnu. Gloster, what'er we like, thou art pro- 
 tector ; 
 And lookest to command the prince, and realm. 
 The wile is ])roud; she holdelh thee in awe. 
 More than God, or religious churchmen may. 
 
 ' There was a notion Ions? prevalent, that life might 
 be taken away Ly metrical ch.'irms 
 
383 
 
 FIKST PART OF 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov^st the Hcsh. 
 And ncVr throughout the year to church thou go''st;. 
 Kxcept it be to pray af^ainst thy Iocs. 
 
 Be:i. Cease, cease these jars, and rest yourminds 
 iu peace!, 
 Let's to the altar:— Heralds, wait on us:— 
 Instead ot gold, we"*]! oiler up our arms ; 
 Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. — 
 Posterity, await lor wretched years, 
 Wtiea at their mothers' moisteyes babes shall suck; 
 Our isle be made a nourish^ of salt tears, 
 And none but women left to wail the dead. — 
 Henry the Fifth! thy ^host I invocate; 
 Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils! 
 Combat with adxerse planets in the heavens! 
 A far more glorious star thy soul will make, 
 Tluui Julius Caisar, or bright. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 MeRS. My honorable lords, health to you all! 
 Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, 
 Oi loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: 
 Guienne, Champaigne. Rheims, Orleans, 
 Pans, Ouysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. 
 
 Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's 
 corse } 
 Speak softly; or the loss of those great towns 
 Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death. 
 
 Glo. Is Paris lost! is RoUen yielded upl 
 If Henry were recalled to lile again, 
 These news would cause him once more yield the 
 ghost. 
 
 Exe. How were they lost] what treachery was 
 us'd] 
 
 Mess, No treachery; but want of men and money. 
 Aniung the soldiers this is muttered, — 
 That here you maintain several factions; 
 And, whilst a field should be despatcli'd and fought, 
 You are disputing of your generals. 
 One would have lingering wars with little cost; 
 Another would liy swilt. but wanteth wings; 
 A third man thinks, without expense at all. 
 By guileful tair words peace may be obtained. 
 Awake, awake, English nobility! 
 Let not sloth dim your honors, new-hegot: 
 Cropped are the ilower-de-luces in your arms; 
 Of England's coat one half is cut away. 
 
 Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral. 
 These tidings would call tbi^h her tlowing dides, 
 
 lied. Me they concern; regent I am of France: — 
 Give me my steeled coat, I'll fight for France. — 
 Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! 
 Wounds I will lend tlie P'rench, instead of eyes, 
 To weep their intermissive miseries.^ 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 G Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad 
 mischance, 
 France is revolted from the English quite; 
 Exi'i'pt Slime petty towns of no inipr)rt : 
 Tbr dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; 
 The bastard of Orleans with him is joiii'd; 
 Keignier, duke of Anjou, doth take Ins part; 
 The duke of Alen^on (lieth to his side. 
 
 Exe. The dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! 
 0. whither shall we fly from this reproach 1 
 
 Glo. We will not Ily, but to our enemies' throats: 
 Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. 
 
 Bed, Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forward- 
 ness 1 
 Ati army have I muster'd in my thoughts, 
 Wherewith already France is over-run. 
 
 Enter a f/iird Messenger. 
 
 '3 Mess, My gracious lords,— to add to your la- 
 ments, 
 Wiiorewith you now betlew king Henry's liearse, — 
 I must inlbrm you uf a dismal light, 
 lietwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French. 
 
 tVhi, What! wherein Talbot over(;ome ] is't so? 
 
 ;j Mess. O, no; wherein lord Talbot was o'er- 
 thrown; 
 The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. 
 Tiie tenth of August last, this dreadful lord. 
 Retiring from the siege of Orleans, 
 Having full scarce six thousand m his troop, 
 
 ^Nur3C was anciently so spelt. 
 
 3/. c. Their miseries which have had only a short 
 Intermission. 
 
 By three-and-twenty thousand of the French 
 
 VVas round encompassed and set upon; 
 
 No leisure hnd he to enrank his men; 
 
 He wanted pikes to set beli>re his archers; 
 
 Instead w he rcol,sl)ari)slakes,i)luck'd out of hedges, 
 
 They pitclied in ttu' ground confusedly. 
 
 To keep the horsemen oil" from breaking in. 
 
 More than three hours the light continued; 
 
 Where valiant Talbot, above human thought. 
 
 Enacted wonders with his sword and lance. 
 
 Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him, 
 
 Here, there, and every where, enraged he slew : 
 
 The French exclaini'd the devil was in arms; 
 
 All the whole army stood agaz'd on him: 
 
 His soldiers, spying his inidaunted spirit, 
 
 A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain, 
 
 And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. 
 
 Here had the conquest fully been sealed up. 
 
 If sir John Fastolfe had not ])la>M lli*^ coward; 
 
 He being in the vaward (placed belnnd 
 
 With purpose to relieve and follow them,) 
 
 Cowardly tied, not having struck one stroke. 
 
 Hence grew the general wreck and massacre; 
 
 Enclosed were they with their enemies: 
 
 A base Walloon, to win the dauphin's grace, 
 
 Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back; 
 
 Whom all France, with their chief assembled 
 
 strength. 
 Durst not presume to look once in the face. 
 
 Bed. Is Talbot slain T then I will slay myself, 
 For living idly here, in pomp and ease, 
 Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, 
 Unto his dastard foe-man is hetray'd. 
 
 ;J Mess. no, he lives; but is took prisoner, 
 And lord Scales witb him. and Inrd llimgerford; 
 Most of the rest sbiugbterM, or Inuk likewise. 
 
 Bed. His ransimi there is none but 1 shall pay: 
 I'll hale the dauphin headlong from his throne, 
 His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; 
 Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. — 
 Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; 
 liontires in France forthwith I am to make, 
 To keep our great saint George's feast withal: 
 Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take. 
 Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake, 
 
 3 Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd; 
 The English army is grown weak and faint: 
 The earl of Salistjury craveth supply, 
 And hardly keeps his men from mutiny. 
 Since they, so lew, watch such a multitude. 
 
 Exe. Remember, lords, your oatlis to Harry 
 sworn ; 
 Either to quell the dauphin utterly. 
 Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. 
 
 Bed. I do remember it; and here take leave. 
 To go about my preparation. [Exit, 
 
 Glo. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste I can, 
 To view the artillery and munition ; 
 And then I will proclaim young Henry king. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young king is, 
 Being ordain'd his special governor; 
 And for his safety there I'll best devise. [Exit. 
 
 iVin. Each hath his place and function to attend: 
 I am left out; for me nothing reniains. 
 But long I will not be Jack-out-of-ollice; 
 Tiie king from Eltham I intend to send, 
 And sit at chielest stern of public weal. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— France. B^/we Orleans. 
 
 Enter Charles, with 'his Furces; Alen(;on, Reig- 
 NiEU, and others. 
 
 Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the hea- 
 vens, 
 So in the earth, to this day is not known: 
 Late did he shine upon the English side; 
 Now we are victors, upon us he smiles. 
 What towns of any moment, but we have? 
 At iileasure here we lie. near Orleans: 
 ( )lher whiles, the famish 'd English, like pale ghosts, 
 Faintly beseige us one hour in a month. 
 
 Alen. They want their porridge, and their fat 
 bull-beeves: 
 Either they must be dieted like mules, 
 And have tlieir prt>vender tied to their months, 
 Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. 
 
 Reig. Let's raise theseige: Why live we idly herd 
 Talbot is taken whom we wont to tear; 
 Rcmaineth none but inad-brain'd Salisbury; 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY VL 
 
 389 
 
 And he may well in frettin{i spend his gall, 
 Nor men, nor money, hatii Jie to make war. 
 
 Char. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on 
 them. 
 xVow/or the honor of the forlorn French: 
 Hiin I forgive my death, that killcth me, 
 Wlien he sees me go back one foot, or fly. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums; Excursirms; afterwards a Retreat. 
 Re-enter Charlks, Alex);on', Reignier, and others. 
 
 Char. Who eversaw the like? what men have I ? — 
 Do^^sl cowards! dastards! — I would ncVr have lied, 
 But. that they left me 'midst my enemies. 
 
 Reig^. Salishury is a desperate homicide; 
 He tighteth as one weary of his life. 
 Tlic other lords, like lions wanting tood, 
 Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.* 
 
 A/en. Froissard, a countryman of ours, records, 
 England ail Olivers and Rowlands bred, 
 During the time Kdward the Third did reign. 
 More truly now may this be verified; 
 For none but Samsons, and Goliasses, 
 It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! 
 Lean raw-boird rascals! who would e'er suppose 
 Tiicy liad such courage and audacity? 
 
 Char. Let''s leave this town; lor they are hair- 
 brain'd slaves. 
 And hunger will enforce ihcm to be more eager; 
 Of old I know them ; rather with their teeth 
 The walls they'll tear down, then tbrsake the seige. 
 
 Reig. 1 thiiik by sonic odd gimmals' or device. 
 Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on ; 
 Klse ne'er could they hold out so, as they do. 
 By my consent, we'll e'en let them alone. 
 
 Alen. Be it so. 
 
 Enter the Bastard fi/" Orleans. 
 
 Bast. Where's the prince dauphin 1 I have news 
 for him. 
 
 Char. Bastard" of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. 
 
 Bast. Methinks, your looks are sad, your cheer' 
 appall'd; 
 Hath the late overthrow wrought this ofTence? 
 Be not dismay'd, for succor is at hand: 
 A holy maid hither with uie I bring. 
 Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven, 
 Ordained is to raise this tedious siege, 
 And drive the English forth the bounds of France. 
 The spirit of deep prophecy she halh. 
 Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome; 
 What's past, and whal\s to come, she can descry. 
 Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, 
 For they are certain and unfallible. 
 
 CAar. Go, call her in: [£'xi/ Bastard.] But, first, 
 to try her skill, 
 Reignier, stand thou as dauphin in my place: 
 Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern: — 
 By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. 
 
 [Retires. 
 Enter La Pucelle, Bastard n/" Orleans, and others. 
 
 Reig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these won- 
 d'rous teats? 
 
 Piic. Reignier, is't thou that thinkcst to beguile 
 mc ? — 
 Where is the dauphin ?— come, come from behind; 
 I know thee well, though never seen before. 
 Be not amaz'd, there'^s imrhing hid from me: 
 In private will I talk witli thee apart: — 
 Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while. 
 
 Rcig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash. 
 
 Pue. Dauphin, 1 am by birth a shepherd's 
 daughter. 
 My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. 
 Heaven, and our lady gracious, hath it pleas'd 
 To shine on my contemptible estate: 
 Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, 
 And to sun's parching heat displayM my cheeks, 
 God's mother deigned to appear to me; 
 And. in a vision full of majesty, 
 WilI'd me to leave my base vocation, 
 And free my country from calamity: 
 Her aid she promisM and assnr'd success: 
 In complete glory she revraPd herself; 
 
 * /'. e. The prey for which they ftre hungry. 
 
 ^ A srimmal is a piece of joined work, where one piece 
 moves within another ; here it is taken at large for an en- 
 gine. *^Thi3 was not in former times a term of reproach. 
 
 ' Countenance. 
 
 And, whereas I was black and swart before, 
 With thote clear rays which she infus'd on mo, 
 That beauty am I hiess'd with, which you sec. 
 Ask me what question thou canst possible, 
 And 1 will answer unpremeditated: 
 My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st. 
 And thou shall find that I exceed my sex. 
 Resolve on this:** Thou shalt be Ibrtunale, 
 If thou receive mc lor tliy warlike mate. 
 
 Char. TIiou hast astonish'd me with thy high 
 terms; 
 Only this proof I'll of thy valor make, — 
 In single combat thou shalt buckle with me: 
 And. il thou vanquishes!, thy words are true; 
 Otherwise. I renounce all confidence. 
 
 Pur. I am prepared: hereismy keen-edg'd sword, 
 Deck'd with live llower-de-luces on each side; 
 Tiie which at Touraine, in saint Katliarine's church- 
 yard, 
 Out of a deal of old iron I chose forth. 
 
 Char. Then come o'God's name, I fear no woman. 
 
 Puc. And, while I live, I'll ne'er lly from a man. 
 
 [They fight. 
 
 Char. Stay.stay thy hands; thou art an Amazon, 
 And fightesi with the sword of Deborah, 
 
 Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else I were too 
 wea k. 
 
 Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that m\ist 
 help me: 
 Impatiently I burn with th}^ desire; 
 My heart and hands thou hast at once suhdu'd. 
 Excellent Puerile, if thy name be so, 
 Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, he; 
 'Tis the French dauphin sueth to thee thus. 
 
 Puc. I must not yield to any rites of love. 
 For my prolession's sacred from above: 
 When I have chased all thy foes from hence, 
 Then will I think upon a recompense. 
 
 Char. Meanliuie, look gracious on thy prostrate 
 thrall. 
 
 Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. 
 
 Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her 
 smock; 
 Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. 
 
 Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no 
 mean? 
 
 Alen. He may mean more than we poor men do 
 know. 
 These women are shrewd tempters with their 
 tongues. 
 
 ^f?g. My lord, where are you? what devise you on? 
 Shall we give over Orleans, or no? 
 
 Puc. Why, no, I say, distrusttui recreants! 
 Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. 
 
 Char. What shesaysji'll confirm; we'Ilfightit out, 
 
 Puc. Assi-nM am I to be the English scourge. 
 This night the siege assuredly I'll raise: 
 Expect saint Martin's summer^ halcyon days. 
 Since I have entered into these wars. 
 Glory is like a circle in the water. 
 Which never ceasi'th lo enlariie itself, 
 Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 
 With Henry's death, the English circle ends; 
 Dispersed arc the glories it included. 
 Now am I like tliat proud insulting ship. 
 Which Caesar and his liirtune bare at once. 
 
 Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? 
 Thou with an eagle art inspired then. 
 Helen, the mother of great Constantine, 
 Nor yet saint Philip's daughters,' were like thee. 
 Bright star of Venus. liiU'n down on the earth. 
 How may I reverently worship thee enough? 
 
 Alen. Leave oll'delays, and let us raise tlie siege, 
 
 Rcig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our 
 honors; 
 Drive them from Orleans, and be immortalizM. 
 
 Char. Presently we'll try: — Come, let's away 
 about it : 
 No prophet will I trust "if she prove false. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 111.— London. Hill before the Tower. 
 
 Enter, at the Gates, the Duke of Gloster, ivith hii 
 Serving-men, in blue Coats. 
 Glo. I am come to survey the Tower this day; 
 Since Henry"'s death, I fear, there is conveyance.^ 
 
 ^ Be firmly persuaded of it. 
 ^ Expect prosperity after misfortune. 
 > Meaning the four daughters of Thilip mentioned in 
 Act3,iX'. .) 3 Theft. 
 
390 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Where be these warders, that they wait not here] 
 ;pen the gates; Gloster it is that calls. 
 
 [Servants knock. 
 1 IVaril. [Wilhin.] Who is there that knocks so 
 
 imperiously? 
 1 Serv. It is the noble duke of Gloster. 
 3 IVard. [miim.] Whoe'er he be, you may not 
 
 be let in. 
 Serv. Answer you so the lord protector, villains? 
 1 jyard. [IVil/Uii.] The Lord protect him! so 
 we answer liim : 
 We do no otherwise than we are wiUM. 
 Glu. Who willed you? or whose will stands, but 
 minel 
 There's none protector of the realm but I.— 
 Break up the gates. I'll be your warrantizc: 
 Shall 1 be Houted thus by dunghill grooms? 
 Servants »-it.sA at the Tower Gates. Enter, to the 
 Gates, WooDViLLE, tlie Lieutenant. 
 Wuoil. [IKi/Am.] What noise is this? what trai- 
 tors have we here? 
 Gto. Lieutenant, is it you, whose voice I hear? 
 Open the gates; here's Gloster, that would enter. 
 iVuud. [IVitMn.] Have patience, noble duke; I 
 may not open ; 
 The cardinal of Winchester forbids: 
 l-'rom iuin 1 have express commandment. 
 That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in. 
 
 Glo. Faint-hearted WoodviUe, prizest him 'fore 
 me ] 
 Arrogant Winchester? that haughty prelate. 
 Whom Henry our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? 
 Thou art no friend to God, or to the king : 
 Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly. 
 
 1 Serv. Open the gates unto the lord protector; 
 Or we'll burst them open, if that i'ou come not 
 
 quickly. 
 Enter Winchester, attended by a Train of .Ser- 
 vants, i/i taivny Coats. 
 IVin. How now, ambitious Humphrey? what 
 
 means this? 
 Glo. Piel'd priest,^ dost thou command me to be 
 
 shut out? 
 Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor,* 
 And not protector of the king or realm. 
 
 Glo. Stand back: thou manifest conspirator; 
 Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord: 
 Thou, tliat giv'st whores indulgences to sin: 
 I'll canvass' thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, 
 If thou proceed in this thy insolence. 
 
 H'in. Nay, stand thou back, I will iiotbudge a foot. 
 This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, 
 To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. 
 
 Glo. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back: 
 Thy scarlet robes, as a child's beariiig-clotli, 
 I'll use, to carry thee out of this place. 
 
 Win. Do what thou dar'st; 1 beard thee to thy 
 
 face. 
 Glo. What ! am I dar'd, and bearded to my face?— 
 Draw, men, lor all this privileged place; 
 Blue-coats to tawny-coats, i'riest, beware your 
 beard ; 
 [Gloster an'! Iiis men attack the Bishop. 
 I mean to tug it, and to cutf you soundly : 
 Under mv l(:et 1 stamp thy cardinal's hat; 
 In spite of pope or dignities of church. 
 Hero liy the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. 
 iViii. ( ;ioster, tliou'lt answer this belbre the pope. 
 Glo. Winchester goose,' I cry— a rojie! a rope!— 
 Now beat them hence: Why do you let them 
 
 stay ? — 
 Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.— 
 Out, tawny coats!— out, scarlet' hypocrite! 
 Here a great Tumult. In the /uidst of it, enter the 
 Mayor of London, and Officers. 
 l\Iaij. I'ye, lords! that you, being supreme ma- 
 gistrates. 
 Thus coutumeliously should break the peace! 
 Glo. Peace, mayor; thou know'st little of my 
 wrongs: 
 Here's lieautbrd, tliat regards nor God nor king, 
 Halh here (listrain'd the Tower to his use. 
 
 Win. Hero's Glosler Ion. a foe to citizens; 
 One that slill motions war, and never peace, 
 O'ercharging your tree purses with large hues; 
 
 " Alluding to his shaven crown. ^Traitor. ''Sift. 
 "A slrumpct. ' An ulluaiou to tho iJishop's habir. 
 
 That seeks to overthrow religion, 
 
 liecause he is protector of the realm: 
 
 And would have armor here out of the Tower, 
 
 To crown himself king, and suppress the prince. 
 
 Glu. I will notanswer thee with words, but blows, 
 [Here they skirmish agaiiu 
 
 May. Nought rests for me, in this tumultuoua 
 strile, ^ 
 
 But to make open proclamation : — 
 Come, otlicer; as loud as e'er thou canst. 
 Off. Alt manner of men, assembled here in arms 
 
 this day, against God^s peace and the king^s, ?(ie 
 
 charge and command you, in hiji highness' name, 
 
 to repair to your several dwelling-places ; and 
 
 not to wear, handle, or tise, any sicord, weapo'i 
 
 i_tr dagger, ftencefonvard, upon pain of death. 
 
 Gin. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law: 
 But we shall nreet and break our minds at large. 
 
 li^'in. Gloster, we'll meet; to thy dear cost, be sure; 
 Thy heart-blood I will have, for this day's work. 
 
 May. I'll call for clubs,' if you will not away: — 
 This cardinal is more haughty than the devil. 
 
 Glo. JMayor, farewell ; thou dost but what thou 
 mayst. 
 
 irin. Abominable Gloster! guard thy head; 
 For I intend to have it ere long. [Exeunt. 
 
 May. See the coast clear'd, and then we will 
 depart. 
 Good God! that nobles should such stomachs 9 bear! 
 I myself right not once in forty year. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— France. Before Orleans. 
 Enter on thi Walls, the JIaster-(5 unner, and his Son. 
 
 M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is 
 besieged; 
 .A.nd how the English have the suburbs won. 
 
 Hon. Father, I know; and oft liave shot at them, 
 Howe'er. untbrtunate, I iniss'd my aim. 
 
 M. Gun. But now thou shall not. Be thou rui'd 
 by me: 
 Chief master-gunner am I of this town; 
 Something I must do, to procure me grace: 
 The prince's espials^ have informed me. 
 How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, 
 Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars 
 In yonder tower, to overpeer the city; 
 And thence discover, how, with most advantage, 
 They may vex us, witli shot, or with assault. 
 To intercept this inconvenience, 
 A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have placed ; 
 And fully even these three days have I watcii'd, 
 if 1 could see them. Now boy, do thou watch. 
 For I can stay no longer. 
 If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word; 
 And thou slialt lind me at the governor's. [E.xit. 
 
 S(m. Father, 1 warrant you; take you no care; 
 I'll never trouble you. if 1 may spy them. 
 Enter, in an upper Chamber of a Tower, the Lords 
 
 SALisBfRY, and Tai.bot, Sir William Glansdalk, 
 
 Sir Thomas Garurave, and others. 
 
 Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd! 
 How wert thou handled, being prisoner? 
 Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd? 
 Discourse, 1 pr'vthee. on this turret's top. 
 
 Tat. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner. 
 Called— the brave lord Ponton de Saiitrailles; 
 For him I was exchanged and ransomed. 
 But with a baser man of arms by far. 
 Once, in contemiit, they would have barter'd me: 
 Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death 
 Rather than I would be so piled csteem'd." 
 Ill line, ledeeiu'd I was as I desir'd. 
 But, ()! the treacherous Fastolfe woundsmy hiart! 
 Wtioin with my bare lists I would execute, 
 U I now had hi'm brought into my power. 
 
 Sal. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert enter- 
 tain'd. 
 
 Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious 
 taunts. 
 In open market-place produced they me. 
 To be a public spectacle to all; 
 Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
 The scare-crow that atlrights our children so. 
 Tlieii broke 1 from the officers that led me; 
 ,\nd with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground, 
 
 ^ T}i;it 13, for peace-officers armed with cluba or staves. 
 •I'riJe. 'Spies. "So stripped of honors. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 391 
 
 To hurl at the beholders of my shame. 
 
 My grisly countenance made others liy; 
 
 None durst come near for tear of sudden death. 
 
 In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; 
 
 So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread, 
 
 That they supposM, I could rend bars of steel, 
 
 And spurn in pieces posts of adamant ; 
 
 Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I liad, 
 
 That walk-d about me every minute-while; 
 
 And if I did but stir out of my bed, 
 
 Ready tliey were to shoot me to the heart. 
 
 Sai. I grieve to hear what torments you ciidurM; 
 But we will be revenged sulhciently. 
 Kow is it supper-time ]n Orleans: 
 Here through this gate, 1 can count every one, 
 And view the Frenchmen how they fortily; 
 Let us look in, the sight will much delight thee. — 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave, and sir William Glansdale, 
 Let me liave your express opinions. 
 Where is best place to make our battery next. 
 
 Gar. I think, at the north gate; for there stand 
 lords. 
 
 Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. 
 
 Tal. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd. 
 Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. 
 
 [i>/u)t from the Town. Salisbury and 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave fait. 
 
 Sal. Lord, have mercy on us, wretciied sinners! 
 
 Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man! 
 
 Tal. Wliat chance is this, that suddenly hath 
 cross'd us ? 
 Speak Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak; 
 How far'st thou, mirror o( all martial men ! 
 One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck off! 
 Accursed tower! accursed latal hand, 
 That hath contrived this woeful tragedy! 
 In thirteen battles Salisbury overcame: 
 Henry the Fifth he first traiiiM to the wars; 
 Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up. 
 His sworddid ne'er leave striking in the held. 
 Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury ? though thy speech doth 
 
 fail, 
 One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace: 
 The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.^ 
 Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive. 
 If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands! — 
 Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. — 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any lile ? 
 Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him. 
 Salisbury, clieer thy spirit with this comfort; 
 
 Thou shall not die, whiles 
 
 He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me; 
 As who should say, IVheti I am dead ami gone, 
 Ilentember to avenge me on the French. — 
 Plantageuet. I will; and Nero-like, 
 Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn: 
 Wretched shall p'raiice be only in my name. 
 
 [Thunder hianl; afterwards an Alarum. 
 What stir is this! What tumult's in the heavens ! 
 Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise! 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have ga- 
 tlier'd head : 
 The dauphin, with one Joan la Pucclle joinM,— 
 A holy i)rophetess, new risen up, — 
 Is come with a great power to raise the siege. 
 
 [Salisbitry groans. 
 
 Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan! 
 It irks his Iieart, he cannot be revenged. 
 Frenchnier, Fll be a Salisbury to you; — 
 Pucelle or puzzle,^ doliiiiin or dogHsh. 
 Your hearts Til stamp out with my horse's heels. 
 And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. 
 Convey me Salisbury into his tent. 
 And then we'll try what dastard Frenchmen dare. 
 [Exeunt, bearing out the Bodies. 
 
 SCENE \.— Before one of the Gates of Orleans. 
 
 Alarum. Skirmishings. Talbot pursueth the 
 Dauphin, and drireth him in: then enter Joan 
 LA Plcellr, driving Englishmen before her. 
 Then enter Talbot. 
 
 Tal. Where is my strength, my valor, and my 
 forces'! 
 Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; 
 A woman, clad in armor, chaseth them. 
 
 5 Dirty T,-ench. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle. 
 
 Here, here she comes: I'll have a bout with 
 
 thee; 
 Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee: 
 Blood will I draw on thee,« thou art a witch. 
 And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. 
 
 Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I tliat must disgrace 
 thee. [Thei/Jight. 
 
 Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevaill 
 My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage, 
 And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder. 
 But 1 will chastise this high-minded strumpet. 
 
 Puc. Talbot, larewell; thy hour is not yet come: 
 I must go victual Orleans forthwith. 
 O'ertake me, if Ihou canst; J scorn thy strength. 
 Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men; 
 Help Salisbury to make his testament: 
 This day is oiirs, as many more shall be. 
 
 [Pucelle enters the Town, with Soldiers. 
 
 Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a poller's 
 wheel ; 
 I know not where I am, nor what I do ; 
 A witch, by fear, not Ibrce, like Hannibal, 
 Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists: 
 So bees will smoke.aud doves with noisome stench, 
 Are from their hives, and houses, driven away." 
 They call us, for our fierceness, English dogs; 
 Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 
 
 [A short Alarum. 
 Hark, countrymen! cilher renew the fight. 
 Or tear the lions out of England's coat; 
 Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead: 
 Sheep run not half so timorous from the wolf, 
 Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard. 
 As you lly from your oft-subdued slaves. 
 
 [.Alarum. Another Skirmish. 
 It will not be:— Retire into your trenches: 
 You all consented unto Salisbury's death. 
 For none would strilie a stroke in his revenge.— 
 Pucelle is entered into Orleans, 
 In spile of us, or aught that we could do. 
 O, would I were to die with Salisbury ! 
 The shame hereof will make me hide my head. 
 
 [Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt Talko'V and his 
 Forces, '■\c. 
 
 SCENE \\.— The same. 
 
 Enter on the yValls, Pucelle, Charles, Reigxier, 
 
 Alencon, and Soldiers. 
 
 Puc. Advance our waving colors on the walls; 
 Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves:— 
 Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perlorm'd her word. 
 
 Ctiur. Divinest creature, bright Astrffia's daugh- 
 ter, , 
 How shall I honor thee for this success? 
 Tliy promises are like Adonis' gardens. 
 That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next. 
 France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!— 
 Recover'd is the town of Orleans: 
 More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. 
 
 Reig. Why ring not out the bells throughout the 
 town ! 
 Dauphin, command the citizens make bonhrcs, 
 \nd least and banquet in the open streets. 
 To celebrate the |oy that God hath given us. 
 
 Alen. All France will be replete with mirth and 
 joy. 
 When they shall liear how we have play'd the 
 men. 
 
 Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is 
 won; . 
 
 For which, I will divide my crown with her: 
 And all the priests and friars in my realm 
 Sliall. in procession, sing her endless praise. 
 A statelier pyraniis to her I'll rear. 
 Than Rhodope's, or Jlemphis', ever wasi 
 In memory of her, when she is dead. 
 Her ashes, in an urn more precious 
 Than the rich jewel'd coffer of Darius, 
 Transported shall be at high festivals 
 Before the kings and queens of France- 
 No longer on saint Denis will we cry, 
 liut Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint 
 Come in; and let us banquet royally. 
 After this golden day of victory. . . „ 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt^ 
 
 •The surerstition of those times taught, that he who 
 could draw a witch's blood Taa free from her (.oner. 
 
392 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act II, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE l.—The same. 
 
 Enttr to the Gales, a French Sergeant, a?id two 
 Sentinels. 
 
 Serg. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant : 
 If any noise, or soldier, you perceive, 
 Near to the walls, by some apparent sign, 
 Let us Jiave knowledge at the court of guard.* 
 
 1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit Sergeant. 
 
 Thus are poor servitors 
 (When others sleep upon (heir quiet beds) 
 Constrain'd to vvalch in darkness, rain, and cold. 
 Enter Talbot, Uedforh, Buiuiundy, ami Farces, 
 
 witfi sculiDg Ladders; tfieir Drums beating a 
 
 dead Marc/i. 
 
 Tal. Lord regent, — and redoubted Burgundy, — 
 By whose approach, the regions of .\trois, 
 W;illoon, and Picardy, are friends to us, — • 
 Tills happy night the Frenchmen arc secure, 
 Having all day carousM and banqueted: 
 Embrace we then this opportunity ; 
 As titling best to quittance their deceit, 
 Contrived by art and baleful sorcery. 
 
 Bed. Coward of France! — how much he wrongs 
 his tiime, 
 Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, 
 To join with witches, and the help of hell. 
 
 Bur. Traitors have never other company. — 
 But what's that Pucellc, whom they term so pure? 
 
 Tat. A maid, they say. 
 
 Bed. A maid! and be so martial ! 
 
 liar. Pray God, she proves not masculine ere long; 
 If underneath the standard of the French, 
 She carry armor, as she hath begun. 
 
 Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with 
 spirits: 
 God is our fortress; in whose conquering name. 
 Let us resolve to scale their llinty bulwarks. 
 
 Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will liiUow thee. 
 
 Tat. Not all together; better far, I guess. 
 That we do make our entrance several ways; 
 That, if it chance the one of us do liiil. 
 The other yet may rise against their (brce. 
 
 Bed. Agreed; I'll to yon corner. 
 
 Bar. And I to this. 
 
 Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his 
 grave. — 
 Now, Salisbury ! for thee, and for the right 
 Of English Henry, shall this night appear 
 How much in duty I am bound to both. 
 
 [Tlie English scate //if walls, crying S\..C,eoxse\ 
 A Talbot! and all enter by tlic Tnwn. 
 
 Sent. [IVilhin.] Arm, arm ! the enemy doth make 
 assault! 
 
 Tlie French leai> over tlie Walla in tlieir Sliirts. 
 Enter, several ways, Bastako, Alenton, Heig- 
 NIER, half ready, awl tuilf unready. 
 
 Alen. How now, my lords] what, all unready so! 
 
 BoAt. Unready ? ay, and glad we 'scaped so well. 
 
 Reig. 'Twas tune, I trow, to wake and leave our 
 beds. 
 Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. 
 
 Aten. Of all exploits, since tirst I followed arms, 
 Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprize 
 More venturous, or desperate than this. 
 
 Bust. I think, this Talbot be a liend of hell. 
 
 ivc/g. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, liivor him. 
 
 Alen. HerecomethCharles; [marvel howhesped. 
 Enter Ciiarle8 and La Pucklle. 
 
 Bast. Tut! holy- .loan was his defensive guard. 
 
 Ctiar. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful daiue? 
 Didst thou at tirst, to (latter us withal. 
 Make us partakers of a lidle gain, 
 That now our loss miiiht bo ten times so much? 
 
 Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his 
 trieud! 
 At all times will you have my power alike! 
 Sleeping, or waking, must I still prevail. 
 Or will you blame and lay the fault on me! — 
 
 *The same as guanl room. 
 
 Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good, 
 This sudden mischief never could have liill'n. 
 
 Ctiar. Uuke of AIcn<;on, this was your delimit; 
 That, being captain of the watch to-night. 
 Did look no better to that weighty charge. 
 
 Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely tept, 
 As that whereof I had the government. 
 We had not been thus shamefully surpriz'd. 
 
 Ba^-t. Mine was secure. 
 
 Rfig. And so was mine, my lord. 
 
 t'luir. And, for myself, most jiart of all this nigtit, 
 Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, 
 I was employ'd in passing to and fro. 
 About relieving of the sentinels: 
 Then how, or which way, should they first break int 
 
 Puc. Question, my lords, no further of (he case, 
 How, or which way; 'tis sure, they Ibuud some 
 
 place 
 But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. 
 And now there rests no other shift but this, — 
 To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, 
 And lay new platlbrmso to endamage them. 
 Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, cri/ing A Tal- 
 bot ! A Talbot! Tliey fiy, leaving t'lieir Clothes 
 
 behind. 
 
 Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left 
 The cry of Talbot serves me lor a sword; 
 For 1 have loaden me with many spoils, 
 Using no other weapon but his name. [Exit 
 
 SCENE II.— Orleans. Within the Town. 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Borcuxdy, a Captain, 
 
 and others. 
 
 Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, 
 Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. 
 Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. 
 
 [Retreat sounded. 
 
 Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury; 
 And here advance it in the market-place. 
 The middle centre of this cursed town. — 
 Now I have paid my vow unto his soul ; 
 For every drop of blood was drawn from him. 
 There hath at least five Frenchmen died to"night. 
 And, that hereafter ages may behold 
 What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, 
 Within their chiefest temple I'll erect 
 A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be intcrr'd: 
 Upon the which, that every one may read, 
 Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans; 
 The treacherous manner of his mournful death, 
 And what a terror he had been to France. 
 But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, 
 I muse' we met not witli the daiiiiliin's grace; 
 His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of .\rc; 
 Nor any of his liilse confederates. 
 
 Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight 
 began, 
 Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, 
 They did, amongst the troops of armed men. 
 Leap o'er the walls lor refuge in the field. 
 
 Bur. Myself (as far as I could well discern. 
 For smoke, and dusky vapors of the night) 
 Am sure I scar'd the dauphin and his trull; 
 When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, 
 Like to a jiair of loving turtle-doves, 
 Tliat could not live asunder day or night. 
 After that Ihings are set in order here. 
 We'll follow them with all the power we have. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. All hail, my lords! which of this princely 
 train 
 Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
 So much ajiplauded through the realm of France? 
 
 Tut. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with 
 him ! 
 
 Mcis. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne, 
 With modesty admiring thy reno\\-n. 
 By me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe 
 To visit her poor castle where she lios;^ 
 
 * Plans, schemes 
 
 'Dwells. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 393 
 
 That she may boast she hath behckl the man 
 Whose glory fills the uoiid with loud report. 
 
 Bur. is it even sol Nay, tlieii, 1 see, our wars 
 Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, 
 When ladies crave to be encountcr'd with. — 
 You may not, my lord, despise her scntle suit. 
 
 Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for, v\"iien a world of 
 men 
 Could not prevail with all their oratory, 
 Yet iKiih a woman^s kindness over-rui'd: — 
 And therefore tell her, I return great thanks; 
 And in submission will attend on her. — 
 Will not your lionors bear me company] 
 
 Bed. No, truly, it is more than nninners will: 
 And I Jia ■:; heard it said, — Unbidden guests 
 ArL olten vielcomest when they are gone. 
 
 TaL Well tJien, alone, since there's no remedy, 
 I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. 
 Come hither, captain. [IVhispers.] — You perceive 
 my mind. 
 
 Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. 
 
 [Kxeuni. 
 
 SCENE III.— Auvcrgne. Courf of the Castle. 
 
 Eitfer the Countess and her Porter. 
 
 Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; 
 And. when you liave done so, bring the keys to me. 
 
 Fort. Madam. 1 will. [Exit. 
 
 Count. The plot is laid: if all things full out right, 
 I shall as Janious be by this exph)it, 
 As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' drath. 
 Great is the rumor of this dreadful knight, 
 And his achievements of no less account: 
 Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, 
 To give tiieir censure" of these rare reports. 
 
 Enter Messenger and TAtnoT. 
 
 Mess. Madam, 
 According as your ladyship desired. 
 By nnssage crav'd, so is lord Talbot come. 
 
 Count. And he is welcome. WJiat! is this the 
 manl 
 
 Mc!sS. Madam, it is. 
 
 Counl Is this the scourge of France! 
 
 Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad, 
 That with his name the mothers still their babes? 
 1 see report is fabulous and false: 
 1 thttuuiil. I sliuiild have seen some Hercules, 
 A st'CDiKJ Ileclor, lor his grim aspect, 
 And large proportion of Ins strong-knit limbs, 
 Alas! tliis is a child, a silly dwarl": 
 It cannot be, this weak and writhled' shrimp 
 Should strike such terror to his enemies. 
 
 Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you: 
 But, since ) our ladyship is not at leisure, 
 I'll sort some other lime to visit you. 
 
 Count. What means he nowl — Go, ask liim 
 whilhcr lie goes. 
 
 Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves 
 To know the cause of your abru])t departure, 
 
 Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belieti 
 I go to certify h^^r, Talbot's Jiere. 
 
 Re-enter Porter, tvith Kei/s. 
 
 Count. If thou he he, then art thou prisoner. 
 
 Tal. Prisoner! to wimm? 
 
 Count. To me, Mood-Ihirsly lord; 
 
 And (or that cause I train'd thee lo my liou^e. 
 Long time thy shadow hath been thral'l to nie. 
 For in my gallery the picture liangs: 
 But now t^ e substance shall endure the like; 
 And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, 
 That h;ist by tyranny, these many years, 
 Wasted our country, slain our citizens. 
 And sent our sons and husbands captivate. 
 
 Tal. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Cuui'J. Laughest thou, wretch? thy nurth shall 
 turn to moan. 
 
 Tal. I laugh to see, j-our ladyship so fond,^ 
 To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow, 
 Whereon to praeti.se your severity. 
 
 Count. Why, art not thou the man ? 
 
 Tal. I am indeed. 
 
 Count. Then have I substance too. 
 
 Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself: 
 You are deceiv'd. my sul)stance is not here; 
 For what you see, is but the smallest part 
 
 ^OpinioQ. 
 
 nVrinkled. 
 
 SFoolish. 
 
 And least proportion of humanity: 
 
 I tell you, madam, were tJie whole frame here, 
 
 It IS of such a spacious lofty pitch, 
 
 Your roof were not sutlicient to contain it. 
 
 Count. This is a riddling merchant lor the nonce; 
 He will be here, and yet lie is not here: 
 Hitw can these contrarieties agree? 
 
 Tul. That will 1 show you presently. 
 
 He winds a Horn. Drums heard- then a Peal qf 
 Crdnunce. 'The Gates being forced, enter Soldiers, 
 How say you. madam? are you now persuaded, 
 That Talbot is but shadow of himsell? 
 These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, 
 With which lie yoketh your rebellious necks, 
 Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, 
 And in a moment makes them desolate. 
 
 Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse: 
 I find thou art no less than lame hath bruited,* 
 And more than may he gather'd by thy shape. 
 Let my presumption not provoke ihy wrath; 
 For I am sorry, that willi reverence 
 1 did not entertain thee as thou art. 
 
 Tal. Be not dismay'd, tiiir lady ; nor misconstrue 
 The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake 
 The outward composition of his body. 
 Wliat you^iave done liath not otFended me: 
 No other satisl'action do I crave. 
 Hut only (with your patience) that we may 
 Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have; 
 For soldiers' stonuichs always serve them well. 
 
 Count. With all my heart: and lliink me honored 
 To least so great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— London. The Temple Garden. 
 Enter thi' Earls of Somicii.^et, SffFOLK, and War- 
 wick; Rk'haud PLANTAiiENET, Veilnon, and ano~ 
 thcr Lawyer. 
 
 Plan. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means 
 this silence ? 
 Dare no nian answer in a case of truth ? 
 
 Suf. within the Temple hall we were too loud; 
 The garden here is more convenient. 
 
 Plun. Thensay atonce,if I maintain'd the truth; 
 Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in tiie error? 
 
 Suf. 'Faith, 1 have In-en a truant in the law; 
 And never yet could frame my will to it; 
 And, theretbre, frame the law unto my will. 
 
 Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then be- 
 tween us. 
 
 War. Between two hawks, which tiies the higher 
 pitch. 
 Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth. 
 Between two blades, which bears the heller temper, 
 Between two horses, which doth bear inm best. 
 Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, 
 I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment: 
 But in these nice sliarp quillets of the law. 
 Good taith, I am no wiser than a daw. 
 
 Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly Ibrbearance: 
 The truth appears so naked on my side. 
 That anj' purblind eye may lind it out. 
 
 iS'o/7/. And on my side it is so well apparelPd, 
 So clear, so shining, and so evident. 
 That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. 
 
 Plan. Smee you are (onguc-ty'd and so loath 
 to speak. 
 In dinnb signiticants proclaim your llioughts: 
 Let him, that is a true-born gentleman, 
 .\nd stands upon the honor of his birtli, 
 If he suppose tiiat I have pleaded truth. 
 From oil' this briar i)luck a wliiTe rose with me. 
 
 .SV;//(. Let him that is no coward, nor no llatterer. 
 But dare maintain the party of the truth. 
 Pluck a red rose from ulf this thorn with me. 
 
 War. I love no colors;^ and, without all color 
 Ol' base insinuating llallery, 
 I jiluck this white rose with Plantagenet. 
 
 Suf. I iduck this red rose, with young Somerset; 
 And'say withal, I think he lield the right. 
 
 Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen: and pluck no 
 more. 
 Till you conclude — that he, upon whose side 
 The fewest roses are cropp'd Irom the tree, 
 Shall yield the other in the right opinion. 
 
 Sum. (iood master Vernon, it is well objected;* 
 If I have lowest, i subscribe in silence, 
 
 3 For a purpose. ^ Noised, reported. 
 
 ^Deceits; a play on the word. "Proposed. 
 
394 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Plan. And I. 
 
 Ver^ Then, for the truth and plainness of the 
 case, 
 I pluck this pale and maiden bhtssnm here, 
 Giving my verdict on the white rose tide. 
 
 Sum. Prick not your fniser as you pluck it oQT; 
 Lest bleeding you do paint the wliite rose red, 
 And fall on my side so against your will. 
 
 Vtr. If I, rny lord, for my opinion bleed, 
 Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt. 
 Antl keep me on the side wliere still I am, 
 
 Horn. Well, well, come on: Who else ! 
 
 Law. Unless my study and my hooks be false, 
 The argument you held, was wrong in you; 
 
 [To Somerset. 
 In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. 
 
 Pkin. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? 
 
 Sam. Here in my scabbard, medilating that, 
 Shall die your white rose in a bloody red. 
 
 Plan. Mean time, your clieeks do counterfeit our 
 roses ; 
 For pale they look with fear, as witnessing 
 The truth on our side. 
 
 Som. No, Plantagenet, 
 
 'Tis not for fear; but anger,— that thy cheeks 
 Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our^oses; 
 And yet thy tongue will not conless thy error. 
 
 Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ! 
 
 Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagcnetl 
 
 Plan. Av, sharp and piercing to maintain his 
 truth; 
 Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. 
 
 Som. Well, I'll lind friends to wear my bleeding 
 roses, 
 That shall maintain what I have said is true, 
 Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
 
 Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, 
 I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boj'. 
 
 Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. 
 
 Plan. Proud Poole, 1 will; and scorn both him 
 and thee. 
 
 Suf. ril turn my part thereof into thy throat. 
 
 Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole! 
 We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. 
 
 IVar. Now, by God's will, thou wrongest him, 
 Somerset; 
 His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, 
 Third son to the third Edward kin^ of England; 
 Spring crestless yoemen' from so deep a root] 
 
 Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,^ 
 Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 
 
 Som. By him tliat made me, I'll maintain my 
 words 
 On any plot of ground in Christendom: 
 Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge, 
 For treason executed in our late kingls days? 
 And, by ids treason, stand'st not thou attainted. 
 Corrupted-, and exempt^ from ancient gentry? 
 His trespass j'et lives guilty in thy blood: 
 And. till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. 
 
 Plan. My father was attached, not attainted; 
 CondemnM to die for treason, but no traitor; 
 And that I'll prove on better nu^n than* Somerset, 
 Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. 
 For your partaker Poole, and j'ou yourself, 
 I'll note you in my book of memory. 
 To scourge you tor this apprehension:' 
 Look to it well; and say you are well waruVI. 
 
 Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still: 
 And know us, by these colors, for tliy foes; 
 For these my friends, in spite of thee, sliall wear. 
 
 Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, 
 As ci»:;nizance of my blood-drinking hate. 
 Will 1 for ever, and my faction wear; 
 Until it wither with me to my grave, 
 Or flourish to the height of niy degree. 
 
 Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy am- 
 bition! 
 And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit. 
 
 Som. Have with thee, Poole.— Farewell, ambi- 
 tious Richard. [Exit. 
 
 Plan. How I am braved, and must perforce en- 
 dure it! 
 
 War. Tliis blot, that they object against your 
 house. 
 Shall be wip'd out in the next parliaineut, 
 
 't. e. Those who have no right to arms. 
 
 ^^ The Temple, btinga religious house, was a sanctuary. 
 
 ■E.vcluded. iOi>iuion. 
 
 CalI'd for the truce of Winchester and Cluster: 
 And, if thou be not then created York, 
 I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 
 Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, 
 Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, 
 Will I upon thy party wear this rose: 
 And here I prophesy, — Tins brawl to-day. 
 Grown to this taction, in the Temple garden, 
 Sliall send between the red rose and the white, 
 A thousand souls to deatli and deadly night. 
 
 Plan. Good master Vernon. I am bound to you 
 That you on my behalf would pluck a tlower. 
 
 Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same. 
 
 Laiv. And so will I. 
 
 Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. 
 Come, let us four to diinier: I dare say. 
 This quarrel will drmk blood another day. 
 
 [Exeu?ii, 
 
 SCENE v.— ^ Room, in the Tower. 
 
 Enter Mortimer, brnimht in a Chair by two 
 Keepers. 
 
 Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaymg age, 
 Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. — 
 Even like a man new haled from the rack. 
 So fare my limbs with long imprisonment: 
 And these grey locks, the pursuivants- of death, 
 Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, 
 Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. 
 These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, 
 Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:^ 
 Weak shoulders, overborne willi burd'ning grief, 
 And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine 
 That droops his sapless branches to the ground: — 
 Yet are these feet, — whose strcngthless stay is 
 
 numb, 
 Unable to supjjort this lump of clay, — 
 Swilt-winged with desire to get a grave, 
 As witting I no other comlbil have.^ 
 But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? 
 
 1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet. my lord, will come. 
 We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber; 
 And answer was return'd, that he will come. 
 
 Mur. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.— 
 Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. 
 Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, 
 (Before whose glory I was tcreat in arms.) 
 This loathsome sequestratiim have I had; 
 And even since then h:i(li Richard been obscur'd, 
 Deprived of honor and inheritance: 
 But now, the arbitrator of despairs. 
 Just death, kind umpire of uumi's miseries, 
 With sweet enlargement dnih dismiss nie hence; 
 I would, his troubles likewise were expir'd. 
 That so he might recover what was lost. 
 
 Enter Richard Pi-antagenet. 
 
 1 Keep. I\Iy lord, your loving nephew now is 
 
 come. 
 
 Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend! Is he 
 come? 
 
 Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used, 
 Your nephew, late-desj^ised Ricliard comes. 
 
 Mor. Direct mine arms. I may embrace his neck, 
 And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: 
 O, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks, 
 That I may kindly give one lainting kiss. — 
 And now declare, sweet stem from York's great 
 
 stock. 
 Why didst thou say — of late thou wert despis'd? 
 
 Plan. First, lean thine aged back againtt mine 
 arm? 
 And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.* 
 This day, in argument upon a case. 
 Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me. 
 Among which terms he used Ins lavish tongue, 
 And did upbraid me with my father's death; 
 Which obloquy sets bars betiire my tongue, 
 Else with ttielike I had requited him: 
 Therefore, good uncle, — Ibr my father's sake. 
 In honor of a true Plantaiienet, 
 And for alliance' sake. — declare tbe cause 
 I\Iy father, earl of Cam!)rid-^e. lost his head. 
 
 Mor. That cause, fair iu'i)hcvv, that imprison'd 
 me, 
 .\nd hath detained me. all my llow'ring youth, 
 
 2 Pursuivants are officers whtt attenti upon heralds. 
 
 3 KnJ. ■* ITiK-aaiiieas, discontent 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 395 
 
 Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, 
 Was cursed instrument or' his decease. 
 
 Plan. Discover more at iarjicwliat cause that was: 
 For 1 am ignorant, and cannot guess. 
 
 Mar. 1 will; if that m^' lading breath permit, 
 And death approach iutt vi\- my tale be done. 
 Henry the Kourlh, ^randiii.ther to this king, 
 Depus'd his cousin Kit-hard. Edward''s son, 
 The lirst-begotten, and the lawlul heir 
 01 Kdwaid king, the third of that descent: 
 During whose reign, the Percies of the north. 
 Finding his usurpiition most unjust, 
 EndcavorM my advancement to the throne: 
 The reason movM tliese warlike lords to this, 
 Was — lor that (young king Richard thus removM, 
 Leaving no lieir begotten of his body) 
 I was the next by birth and parentage; 
 For by my mother I derived am 
 From Lionel duke of ('lnrence, the third son 
 To kinx Edward tlie Third, wliereas he, 
 From John of Gaunt doth bung his pedigree. 
 Being but lourtli of that heroic line. 
 But mark; as, in this haughty great attempt, 
 They labored to plant the rightlul heir, 
 I lost my liberty, and they their lives. 
 Long after this, when Henry the FiOh, — 
 Suti-eednig his lather IJolingbroke. — did reign. 
 Thy lather, earl of Cambridge, — then derived. 
 From famous Edmund Langley, duke of York, — 
 Marrying my sister, that thy mother was. 
 Again, in pity of my hard distress. 
 Levied an army ; weening^ to redeem, 
 And half instaird me in the diadem : 
 But, as ihe rest, so tell that noble earl, 
 And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, 
 In whom the title rested, were suppressM. 
 Plan. Of wJiich, my lord, your honor is the last. 
 Mvr. True; and thou seest, that I no issue 
 have; 
 And that my fainting words do warrant death : 
 
 Thou art my heir; the rest, I wish thee gather: 
 But yet be wary in the studious care. 
 
 Plan. Tliy grave admonishments prevail with 
 me: 
 But yet, nicthinks, my father's execution 
 Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. 
 
 Mar. With silence, nephew, be thou politic; 
 Strong-tixed is the house of Lancaster, 
 And, like a mountain, not to be removM. 
 But now thy uncle is removing hence; 
 As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd 
 With long continuance in a settled place. 
 
 Plan. (), uncle, 'would some part of my young 
 years 
 Might but redeem the passage of your age ! 
 
 Mur. TIiou dost then wrong me; as the slaugh- 
 terer doth. 
 Which giveth many wounds, when one will kill. 
 Mourn iiot, except thou sorrow for my good; 
 Only, give order lor my funeral; 
 And so (arewell; and lair be all thy hopes! 
 And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war ! 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Plan. And peace, no war, belal thy partmg 
 soul! 
 In prison iiast thou spent a pilgrimage. 
 And. like a hermit, overpassM thy days. — 
 Well, I will luck his counsel in my breast ; 
 And what 1 do imagine, let that rest. — 
 Keepers, convey him hence; and 1 myself 
 Will see his burial better than his lile. — 
 
 [Exeunt Keepers, bearing (mi MonTlllEB. 
 Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, 
 ChokM with ambition of the meaner sort: — 
 And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries. 
 Which Somerset hath ollercd to my house, — 
 I doubt not, but with honor to redress; 
 And tficrelbrc haste 1 to the parliament; 
 Killicr to be restored to my blood, 
 Ur iiKike my ill the advantage of my good. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Parliament House. 
 Flourish. Enter King Hknuy, Exkter. Gi.oster, 
 Warwick, Someuskt, ami Sl'kfulk; tlie Bishoi' 
 
 OF \Vl.NCaE.STEU, RkIIAKU I'LANTAGF.NF.T, flltd 
 
 (il/icr.s. Glosteii nffers to jmt up a Bill;" Win- 
 chester snatches it. and fears it. 
 Win. Cnm'st tlioii willi di-i'p premeditated lines, 
 Witli written pamplilels studiously devis'd, 
 Humphrey of Gloster? if tluiu canst accuse, 
 Or aught intend'st to lay unlo my cliarge. 
 Do it without invention suddenly; , 
 
 As I with sudden and extrniporal speech 
 Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 
 Glu. Prcsuniptnous priest ! this place commands 
 my i^atience, 
 Or tliou sliouldst find thou hast dishonor'd me. 
 Think not, although in writing I prclcrr'd 
 The manner of th>' vile outrageous crimes, 
 That thereldre I have forged, or am not able 
 Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen: 
 No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness. 
 Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentioiis pranks, 
 That very intants prattle of thy pride. 
 Thou art a most pernicious usurer: 
 Froward by nature, enemy to peace; 
 Lascivious, wanton, more'than well beseems 
 A man of thy prolcssion. and degree; 
 .4nd lor thy treachery, what's more manifest; 
 In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life. 
 As well at London bridge, as at the Tower? 
 Besides, I fear me, if thy thoughts were silted. 
 The king, thi sovereign, is not (|uitc exempt 
 From envious malice of thy swelling heart. 
 
 IVin. Gloster, I do defy lliee.— Lords, vouchsafe 
 T" give me hearing what 1 shall reply. 
 11 I were covetous, ambitious, or preverse, 
 As he will have me, how am I so poor? 
 Or how haps it, I seek not to advance 
 Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling ? 
 And for dissension, who preferreth peace 
 
 'Thinking, » i. f. Articles of Accusation. 
 
 More than I do,— except I he provok'd? 
 No. good my lords, it is not that otU-nds; 
 It is not that, that hath incens'd the duke: 
 It is, because no one should sway but he; 
 No one, but he, should be about the king; 
 And that engenders thunder in his breast, 
 And makes iiim roar these accusations Ibrtli. 
 But he shall know, I am as good 
 
 Glu. As good! 
 
 Thou bastard of my grandfather!— 
 
 (I'(/(. Ay, lordly sir; For what are you, I pray, 
 But one im]*erious in another's throne? 
 
 Glu. Am 1 not Ihe protector, saucy priest? 
 
 Win. And am 1 not a prelate of the church? 
 
 G/o. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, 
 Ami usclh it to patronage his theft. 
 
 IVin. Unrcvcicnt Gloster! 
 
 Glo. Thou art reverent 
 
 Touching thy spiritual function, not thy lile. 
 
 Win. This Rome shall remedy. 
 
 War. Roam thither, then. 
 
 Sum. My lord, it were your duty to Uirbear. 
 
 War. Ay, sec the bishop be not overborne. 
 
 Sum. Mclhiiiks. my lord should be religious, 
 And know the ollice'lhat belongs to such. 
 
 IVar. Mcthiiiks, his lordship should be humbler; 
 It fitted not a prelate so to plead. 
 
 Sum. Yes, u hen Ids holy state is touchM so near. 
 
 IlV/r.Slate holy, or unhallow'd, what of that? 
 Is not his grace protector to the king? 
 
 Flati. Planlagcnet, I see, must hold his tongue; 
 Lest it be said. Spealt', sirrah, when yun .'.hi iild; 
 Must yimr liulii venlict enter talk with tur<ls? 
 Else would I have a fiing at Winchester. [Aside* 
 
 K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster, and of Winchester, 
 The special watchmen of our English weal; 
 I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, 
 To join your hearts in love and amity, 
 (>. \vhat a scandal is it to our crown. 
 That two such noble peers as ye should jar! 
 Believe me, lords, my tender jears can tell, 
 Civil dissension is a viperous worm, 
 
396 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Tliat gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. — 
 
 [A noise within; Down with the tawny coats!] 
 What, tumult's this? 
 
 War. An uproar, I dare warrant, 
 
 Begun through malice of the bishopV men. 
 
 [A }ioise again,- Stones! Stones!] 
 
 Enter the Mayor qf London, attended* 
 May. O, my good lords, — and virtuous Henry, 
 Pity the city of London, pity us! 
 The bishop's and the duke of Gloster's men, 
 Forbidden late to carry any weapon, 
 Have liird their packets full of pebble-stones; 
 And, banding themselves in contrary parts, 
 Do i^elt so fast at one another's pate, 
 That many have their giddy brains knockM out. 
 Our windows are broke down in every street. 
 And we, for fear, compellM to shut our shops. 
 
 Enter, skirmishin/i;, the Retainers of Gloster and 
 VViNCHKaTEH, with bl-oody pates. 
 K. lien. We charge you, on allegiance toourself. 
 To hold your slaughVring hands, and keep the 
 
 peace. 
 Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife. 
 
 1 Serv. Nay, if we he 
 
 Forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth. 
 
 2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. 
 
 [Skirmish again, 
 do. You of my houseliold, Icivc this peevish 
 broil, 
 And set this unaccustomM fight aside. 
 
 3 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man 
 lust and upright; and, for your royal birth, 
 Inferior to none but to his majesty: 
 
 And ere that we will sulfer such a prince, 
 
 So kind a father of the commonweal. 
 
 To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, 
 
 We. and our wives, and children, all will fight, 
 
 And have our bodies slaughtered by our foes. 
 
 1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails 
 Shall pitch a field, when we are dead. 
 
 [Skirmish again. 
 
 Glo. Stay, stay, I say ! 
 
 And, if you love me, as you say you do, 
 Let me persuade you to forbear a while. 
 
 K. lien. 0, how this discord dotii afflict my 
 soul! 
 Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold 
 My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? 
 Who should be pitiful, if you be not? 
 Or who should study to jn-efer a peace 
 If hoiy churchmen take dclit^ht in broils? 
 
 IVu'r. I\Iy lord protector, yield;— yield, Winches- 
 ter; — 
 Except you mean, with obstinate repulse. 
 To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. 
 You sec what mischief, and what liuirder too, 
 Hatli been enacted through your enmity; 
 Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. 
 
 JVin. He shall submit, or I will never yield. 
 
 Glo. Compassion on the king commands me 
 stoop! 
 Or, T would see his heart out, ere tlie priest 
 Should ever get the privilege of me. 
 
 War. Behold, my lord of Winchester, the duke 
 Hath banishM moody, discontented lury. 
 As by his smoothed brows it doth appear: 
 Why look you still so stern, and tragical? 
 
 Gilt. Here. Winchester, I olfer thee my hand. 
 
 A'. Sien. Fye, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you 
 preach, 
 That malice was a great and grievous sin: 
 And will not you maintain the thing you teach. 
 But prove a chief otlender in the same? 
 
 IVar. Sweet king!— the lilshop hath a kindly gird.' 
 F»»r shame, my lord of Winchester! relent; 
 What, shall a child instruct you what lo do? 
 
 Win. Well, duke of Gloster, 1 will yield to thee; 
 Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give. 
 
 G/n. Ay; Itut, I fejir me. with a hollow heart. — 
 S(!e here, my friends, and loving countrymen; 
 Tliis token serveth lor a ilag of truce, 
 Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers; 
 So help me God, as I dissemble not! 
 
 Win- SiJ helj) rue God. as I intend it not. [Aside. 
 
 K. Urn. O Iovi)ig uncle, kind duke of (Jloster, 
 How joyful am 1 made by this contract! — 
 
 ' FcelB au cmotioD of kinJnesa 
 
 Away, my masters! trouble us no more; 
 
 But join in friendship, as your lords have done. 
 
 1 Serv. Content! Til to the surgeon's. 
 
 2 Serv. And so will I. 
 :J Serv. And I will see what physic the tavern 
 
 affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, ^c. 
 
 War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, 
 Which, in the right of Richard Plantagenet, 
 We do exhibit to your majesty. 
 
 Glo. Well urged, my lord of Warwick; — for, 
 sweet prince, 
 An if your grace mark every circumstance, 
 You have great reason to do Richard right; 
 Kspecially, for those occasions 
 At Kltham-place I told j-our majesty. 
 
 A'. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of force: 
 Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is, 
 That Richard be restored to his blood. 
 
 ll^iir. Let Richard be restored to his blood; 
 So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. 
 
 Win. As will the rest, so willeth Wuichestt^r. 
 
 A', lien. If Richard will be true, not that alone, 
 Rut all the whole inheritance I give, 
 That doth belong unto the house of York, 
 From whence you spring by lineal descent. 
 
 Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience, 
 And humble service, till the point of death. 
 
 A. Hen. Stoop then, and set your luiec against 
 my foot; 
 And, in reguerdon^ of tJiat duty done, 
 I girt thee with the vahant sword of York. 
 Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet; 
 And rise created princely duke of York. 
 
 Plan. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may 
 rail! 
 And as my duty springs, so perish they 
 Tliat grudge one thought against your majesty! 
 
 All. Welcome, higii prince, the mighty duke of 
 York ! 
 
 Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of York! 
 
 [Asid^, 
 
 Gin. Now will it best avail your majesty, 
 To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France: 
 The presence of a king engenders love 
 Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends; 
 As it disanimates his enemies, 
 
 A". Hen. When Gloster says the word, king Henry 
 goes; 
 For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. 
 
 Glo. Your ships already are in readiness. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut P^xeter. 
 
 E.re. Ay, we may march in England, or in France, 
 Not seeing what is hkely to ensue: 
 This hite dissension, grown betwixt the peers, 
 Hums under feigned ashes of forged love, 
 And will at last break out into a liame: 
 As fester'd members rot but by degrees. 
 Till bnnes, and flesh, and sinews, iall away, 
 So will this base and envious discord breed. 
 And i*w I fear that fatal prophecy. 
 Which, in the time of Henry, named the fifth, 
 Was in the mouth of every sucking babe. 
 That Henry, born at Monmouth, should v/in all; 
 Anil Henry, born at Windsor, should lose ail: 
 Whicii is so plain, that Exeter doth wish 
 His days may finish ere that hapless time. [ExU 
 
 SCENE II.— France. Before Roiien. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle disguised, and Soldiers dressed 
 like Countrymen, ivith Sack^ upon their hacks. 
 Pur. Tliese are the city gates, the gates of Roiien, 
 Tlfniugh which our policy must make a breach: 
 Take lioed, be wary how you ])lace your words; 
 Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men, 
 That come to gather money for their corn. 
 If we have entrance, (as, I hope, we shall,) 
 And" that we find the slothful watch but weak, 
 I'll iiy a sign give notice to our friends, 
 That Charles the dauphin may encounter them. 
 
 I Sold. Oursacks shall be a mean to nack the city, 
 And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; 
 Therellire we'll knock. [Knocks. 
 
 Guard. [Within.] Quiestl^y 
 I'uc. Pnisans, pauvres gens de France: 
 Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn. 
 Guard. Enter, go in: the market-hell is rung. 
 
 [Opens the Galea, 
 
 6 Recompense. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 397 
 
 Puc. Now Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the 
 ground. [Pccelle, 4-c. enter the City- 
 
 Enter Charles, Bastard of Orleans, Alesco.s, and 
 Forces. 
 
 Char. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem ! 
 And once again we'll sleep secure in Kouen. 
 
 Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and iier practisants :' 
 Now slie is there, how will she specil'y 
 Where is the best and safest passage inl 
 
 A ten. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower; 
 Wliich once discern'd shows that her meaning is. — 
 No way to that,' lor weakness, which she enter'd. 
 
 Enter Li. Pucelle on a Battlement; holding out a 
 Torch burning. 
 Pile. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch, 
 That joineth RoUen unto her countrymen; 
 But burning fatal to the Talbotites. 
 Bast. See, noble Charles ! the beacon of our 
 friend. 
 The burning torch in yonder turret stands. 
 
 Chetr. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, 
 A prophet to tlie liill of all our foes! 
 
 Alen. Deli?riio lime. Delays have dangerousends; 
 Enter, and cry— The Dauphin .'—presehtly, 
 And then to execution on the watch. [They enter. 
 Alarums. Enter Taldot, and certain English. 
 
 Tal. France, tlioii Shalt rue this treason with thy 
 tears, 
 If Talbot but survive thy treachery. — 
 Pucelle, that witcli, that damned sorceress. 
 Hath wrought tins hellish mischief unawares, 
 Tliat hardly we escaped the pride of Franci), 
 
 [Exeunt to the Town. 
 Alarum; Excursions. Enter from the Town Bed- 
 ford, hrnught in sick, in a Chair, with Talbot, 
 BuiiGUNDV, and the English Forces. Then enter, 
 on the Walls, l.\ Pucelle, Charles, Bastard, 
 Ale.n'co.v, and others. 
 
 Puc. Good morrow, gallants! want ye com for 
 bread ? 
 I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast, 
 Bel'ore he'll buy again at such a rate: 
 'Twas full of darnel; Do you like the tiiste? 
 Bur. ScotI' on, vile fiend, and shameless couv 
 tezan 1 
 I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own, 
 And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. 
 Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before 
 
 that time. 
 Bed. 0. let no words, but deeds, revenge this 
 
 treason ! 
 Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard? break 
 a lance, 
 And run a till at death within a chair? 
 
 Tal. Foul fiend of Franco, and hag of all despite, 
 Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours! 
 Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, 
 And twit with cowardice a man half dead? 
 Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, 
 Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. 
 Puc. Are you so hot, sir?— Yet, Pucelle, hold thy 
 peace; 
 If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.— 
 
 [Talhot, and. the rest, consult together. 
 
 God speed the parliament! who shall be thesiieaker? 
 
 Tal. Dare ye come Itirth and meet us in the field? 
 
 Puc. Belike, your lordsliij) takes us then Ibrlbols, 
 
 To try if that our own be ours, or no. 
 
 Tut. 1 speak not to that railing Hecate, 
 But uiilo thee, Aleu(;on, and the rest; 
 Will ye, like soldiers, come and light it out? 
 Alt n. Siirnior, no. 
 
 Tal. Signior, hang! — base muleteers of France! 
 Like peasant loot-buys do they keep the walls; 
 And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. 
 Puc. Captains, away: let's get us from the 
 walls; — 
 For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks. — 
 God be wi' you my lord! we came, sir, but to tell 
 
 you 
 That we are here, 
 
 [E.eeunt La Pi celle, ^c.from the Walls. 
 Tal. And there wUl we be too, ere it be long. 
 Or else reproacli be Talbot's greatest fame!— 
 
 " Confeileriites in stratagems. 
 ^ i. e. No way equal to that. 
 
 \'ow, Burgund)', by honor of thy house, 
 
 (Prick'd on by public wj-ongs, sustain'd in France,) 
 
 Either to get the town again, or die; 
 
 And I, — as sure as English Henry lives, 
 
 And as his father here was conqueror; 
 
 .\s sure as in this late betrayed town 
 
 Great Cffiur-de-lion's heart was buried; 
 
 So sure I swear to get the town, or die. 
 
 Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy vowa. 
 
 Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prnice, 
 The valiant duke ol Bedlbrd : — Come, my lord. 
 We will bestow you in some better place. 
 Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age. 
 
 Bed. Lord Talbot, do not dishonor me: 
 Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, 
 And will be partner of your weal, or woe. 
 
 Bur. Courageous Bedlbrd, let us now persuade 
 you. 
 
 Bed. Not to be gone from henije ; for once I read, 
 That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick. 
 Came to the field, and vanquished his foes: 
 Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts, 
 Because I ever found them as myself, 
 
 Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! — 
 Then be it so: — Heavens keep old Bedford safe! — 
 And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, 
 But gather we our Ibrccs out of hand, 
 .■\nd set upon our boasting enemy. 
 
 [Exeunt Buhuundy, Talbot, and Forces, 
 leaving Bedford, and others. 
 
 Alarums: Excursions. A'/i/er Sir John Fastolfe, 
 and a Captain. 
 
 Cap. Whither away, sir John Fastol/fe, in such 
 haste? 
 
 Fast. Whither away? to save myself by flight ; 
 We are like to have the overthrow again. 
 
 Cap. What! will you fly, and leav'e lord Talbot? 
 
 Fu.\t. Ay, 
 
 All the Talbots in the world to stive my life. [E.vit. 
 
 Cap. Cowardly knight ! ill fortune' follow^ thee ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 Retreat: Excursions. Enter from the Town, La 
 
 Pucelle, Alencon, Charles, 4'c., and exeunt, 
 
 fining. 
 
 Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please; 
 For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. 
 What is the trust or strength of foolish men? 
 They, that of late were daring with their scotfs, 
 .Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. 
 
 [Dies, and is carried ojf in his Chair, 
 Alarum: £n/er Talbot, Burgundy, rmii others. 
 
 Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again! 
 This is a double honor. Burgundy: 
 Yet, heavens have glory for this victory! 
 
 Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy 
 JEnshrines thee in his heart; and there erects 
 Thy noble deeds, as valor's monument. 
 
 Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucello 
 now ? 
 I think, her old familiar is asleep: 
 Now Where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his 
 
 glecks?2 
 What, all a-mort?' Rouen hangs her head for grief, 
 That such a valiant company are fled. 
 Now will we take some order* in the town. 
 Placing therein some expert ofliceis; 
 ,\nd Iheii depart to Paris, to the king: 
 For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies. 
 
 Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy 
 
 Tal. But vet, before we go, let's not forget 
 The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd. 
 Hut sec his exequies' fulfill'd in Rouen; 
 .V braver soldier never couched lance, 
 A gentler heart did never sway in court: 
 But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; 
 For that's the end of human misery. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE Ul.—The Plains near the City. 
 
 Enter Charles, the Bastard, Alesijos, La Pucelle, 
 and Forces. 
 Puc. Dismay not. princes, at this accident, 
 Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: 
 Care is no cure, but rather corrosive. 
 For things that are hot to be remedied. 
 
 sScoffs. 'Quite ilispiritej 
 
 * Make some necessary dispositions. ' Funeral rites. 
 
398 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 ^CT III. 
 
 Let frantic Talbot triiimph for a while, 
 And like a peacock sweep along his tail; 
 We'll. pull his plumes, and take away his train, 
 If dauphin, and the rest, will be but rul'd. 
 
 Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto, 
 And of thy cunning had no ditlidencc ; 
 One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. 
 
 Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, 
 And we will make thee lamous through the world. 
 
 Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place. 
 And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint; 
 Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. 
 
 Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: 
 By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, 
 We will entice the duke of Burgundy 
 To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. 
 
 Cliur. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, 
 France were no place lor Henry's warriors; 
 Nor should that nation boast it so with us, 
 But be extirped from our provinces. 
 ALen. For ever should they be expuls'd" from 
 France, 
 And not have title to an earldom here. 
 
 Puc. Your honors shall perceive how I will work. 
 To bring this matter to the wished end. 
 
 [Drums heard. 
 Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive 
 Tlieir powers arc inarching unto Paris-ward. 
 An English March. Eiiler, and pass over at a dis- 
 tance, TALiiuT and his Forces. 
 There goes the Talbot, with his colors spread; 
 And all the troops of English alter him. 
 A YTCnch March. Enter the DOKE OF BCTIGUSDY, 
 
 and Forces. 
 Now in the rearward comes the duke, and his; 
 Fortune, in favor, makes him lag behind. 
 Summon a parley, we will talk with him. 
 
 [A parley sounded. 
 Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy. 
 Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? 
 Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy coun- 
 tryman. 
 Bur. What say'st thou, Charles'! for I am march- 
 ing hence. 
 Cliar. Speak, Fucelle; and enchant him with thy 
 
 words. 
 Puc. Brave Burgundy.undoubted hope of France! 
 Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. 
 Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious. 
 Puc. Look on thy country, look on It'rlile France, 
 And see tlie cities and the town defaced 
 By wasting ruin of the cryel foe! 
 As looks the mother on her lowly babe, 
 Wlien death doth close his tender dying eyes. 
 See, see, the pining malady of France; 
 Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds. 
 Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast! 
 O, turn thy edged sword another way; 
 Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help! 
 One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom. 
 Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign 
 
 gore ; 
 Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears. 
 And wash away thy country's stained spots! 
 Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her 
 words. 
 Or nature makes me suddenly relent. 
 Pu( Besides, all French and France exclaims on 
 thee, 
 Poubt.ng thy birth and lawful progeny. 
 Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation. 
 That will not trust thee, but tor profit's sake ! 
 When Talbot hath set looting once iu France, 
 And lashion'd Ibee tliat instrument of ill. 
 Who then, but English Henry, will l)e lord, 
 And thou be thrust out, like "a fugilive; 
 Call we lo mind,— and mark but this, for proof; — 
 Was not the duke of Orleans thy liie ! 
 And waH lie not in England prisoner'! 
 
 1 Expelled. 
 
 But, when they heard he was thine enemy. 
 They set him I'ree, without his ransom paid. 
 In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends. 
 See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen. 
 And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. 
 Come, come, return; return, tliou wand'ring lord; 
 Charles, and the rest, will t.ake thee in their arni.s. 
 
 Bur. I am vanquished ; these haughty words of 
 hers 
 Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot. 
 And made me almost yield upon my knees. — 
 Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen! 
 And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace : 
 My Ibrces and my power of men are yours;— 
 So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. 
 
 Puc. Done like a Frenchman, turn, and turn again! 
 
 Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship 
 makes us fresh. 
 
 Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. 
 
 Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, 
 And doth deserve a coronet of gold. 
 
 Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our 
 powers; 
 And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Paris. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter KixG Henry, Gloster, and other Lords, Vek- 
 
 NO.N, Basset, -^c. Tu them Talbot, and some uf 
 
 his Officers. 
 
 Tat. My gracious prince,— and honorable peers, — 
 Hearing of your arrival in this realm, 
 I have a while given truce unto my wars, 
 To do my duty to my sovereign: 
 In sign whereof, this arm, — that hath reclaim'd 
 To your obedience Hfty fortresses. 
 Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, 
 Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, — 
 Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet; 
 And, with submissive loyalty of heart, 
 Ascribes the glory of his conquest got. 
 First to my God, and next unto your grace. 
 
 A'. Hen. Is this the famed lord Talbot, uncle 
 Gloster. 
 That hath so long been resident in France] 
 
 67«. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. 
 
 A'. Uen. Welcome, brave captain, and victorious 
 • lord! 
 
 When I was young, (as yet I am not old,) 
 I do remember how my liither said, 
 A stouter champion never handled sword. 
 Long since we were resolved^ of your truth, 
 Your liiilhful service, and your toil in war; 
 Yet never have you tasted our reward. 
 Or been rcguerdon'd' with so much as thanks, 
 Because till now we never saw your face: 
 Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts. 
 We here create you earl of Shrewsbury; 
 .\nd in our coronation take your place. 
 
 [Exeunt Kixg Henry, Gloster, Taldot, 
 and Nobles. 
 
 Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea. 
 Disgracing of these colors that I wear 
 In honor of my noble lord of York. — 
 Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'sti 
 
 Bas. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage 
 The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
 Against my lord the duke of Somerset. 
 
 Ver. Rirrah. thy lord 1 honor as he is. 
 
 Ba.t. Why, what is he ! as good a man as York. 
 
 Ver. Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that. 
 
 [Strikes him. 
 
 Bus. 'Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is such. 
 That, whoso draws a swurd, 'tis present death; 
 Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. 
 Hut I'll unto his majesty, and crave 
 1 may have liberty to venge this wrong: 
 When thou shalt sec. I'll meet thee to Ihy cost. 
 
 ]'er. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; 
 Ami, after, meet you sooner than you would. 
 
 t^E.i:cu7it, 
 
 ' Confirmed in opinion. ' Rewarded. 
 
Act IV. Scene I. 
 
 lil^SG HENRY VI. 
 
 399 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Paris. A Room nf Slate. 
 
 Enter KixG Henry. Gloster, Exeter, York, Suf- 
 folk, Somerset. Wixcuesteb, Warwick, Talbot, 
 the Governor of Pans, and others. 
 
 Gto. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. 
 IVln. God save king Henry, of tiiat name tlie 
 sixtli ! 
 
 Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath, — 
 [Governor kneels. 
 That you elect no other king but iiim : 
 Ksteeiu none friends, but such as are his friends; 
 And none your foes, but such as shall pretend* 
 Malicious practices against his state: 
 This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! 
 
 [Exeunt Gov. and his Train. 
 Enter Sir John Fastolfe. 
 
 Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais, 
 To liasten unto j-our coronation, 
 A letter was dehver'd to my hands, 
 Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy. 
 
 Tat. Shame to tlie duke of Burgundy, and thee! 
 I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet tliee next, 
 To tear tlie garter from tliy era vents' leg, 
 
 [Plucking it off. 
 (Which I have done,) because unworthily 
 Thou wast installed in that high degree.— 
 Pardon me, princely Henry, and Ihe rest: 
 This dastard at the battle of Patay, 
 When but in all I was six thousand strong. 
 And that the Krench were almost ten to one, — 
 Belbre we met, or that a stroke was given, 
 Like to a trusty squire, did run away; 
 In which assault we lost twelve hundred men ; 
 Myself and divers gentlemen beside. 
 Were there surpris'd, and taken prisoners. 
 Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss; 
 Or whether that suoh cowards ought to wear 
 This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no. 
 
 Glo. To say the truth, this fact was intamous, "" 
 And ill beseeming any common man; 
 Much more a iinighl, a captain, and a leader. 
 
 Tat. When first Ihisorder was ordain'd. my lords. 
 Knights of the garler were of noble birth ; 
 Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty' courage 
 Such as were grown to credit by the wars; ' 
 Not It-aring death, nor shrinking for distress, 
 But always resolute in most extremes. 
 He then, that is jiot furnish'd in this sort. 
 Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight. 
 Profaning this most honorable order; 
 And should (if I were worthy to be judire) 
 Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain 
 That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. 
 
 K.Hen. Slain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st 
 thy doom : 
 Be packing, theielbre, thou that wast a knight; 
 Hencelorlh we banislj thee, on pain of death.— 
 , , [Exit Fastolfe. 
 
 And now, my lord protector, view the letter 
 Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy. 
 
 Glo. What means his grace, that he hath changed 
 his style ! [ Viewing the superscription. 
 No more hut, plain and bluntly,— To tht king? 
 Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign? 
 Or doth this churlish superscription 
 Pretend some alleration in good will? 
 What's here !— / Aace, ujjon especial cause,— 
 ., , , ., [Reads. 
 
 Jtfoi'V/ unth compassion of my cnuntrtfs wreck, 
 Together with the pitiful complaints 
 Of such as ijotir oppression feeds upon, — 
 Forsaken //our pernicious /(iction. 
 And Join'd with Charles, the rightful king nf 
 
 Frajice. 
 O monstrous treachery! Can this be so; 
 That in alliance, amity, and oaths. 
 There should be found such false dissembling guile? 
 K.Hen. What! dolh my uncle Burgundy revoll? 
 
 Glo. He doth, my lord; and is become your foe. 
 
 'Design 
 
 'Mean, dastardly. 
 
 »High. 
 
 K. Hen. Is that the worst, this letter doth contain? 
 
 Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. 
 
 K. Hen. Why then, lord Talbot there shall talk 
 with him. 
 And give him chastisement for this abuse: — 
 My lord, how say you? are you not content ! 
 
 Tat. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am pre- 
 vented,3 
 I should have begg'd I might have been employed. 
 
 K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march unto 
 him straight: 
 Let him perceive, iiow ill we brook his treason; 
 And what oB'ence it is, to flout his friends. 
 
 Tal. I go, my lord ; in heart desiring still. 
 You may behold confusion of your Iocs. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Vernon and Basset. 
 T'cr. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign ! 
 Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too! 
 York. This is my servant; Hear him.noble prince! 
 Som. And this is mine; Sweet Henry, lavor him! 
 K.Hen. Be patient, lords; and give them leave 
 to speak. — 
 Say, gentlemen. What makes you thus exclaim? 
 And wherefowe crave you combat? or with whom? 
 J'er. With him, my lord; for he hath done me 
 
 wrong. . 
 
 Bas. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong. 
 K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both 
 complain? 
 First let me know, and then FlI answer you. 
 
 Bas. Crossing the sea from England into France, 
 This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, 
 Ui)liraided me about the rose I wear; 
 Saying— the sanguine color of the leaves 
 Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, 
 When stubbornly he did repugn* the truth. 
 About a certain (piestion m the law, 
 Ariiued betwixt the duke of York and him; 
 Witii other vile and ignominious terms: 
 In conlutation of which rude reproach. 
 And in deience of my lord's worthiness, 
 1 crave the benefit of law of arms. 
 
 Per. And that is my petition, noble lord; 
 For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit. 
 To set a gloss upon his bold intent. 
 Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him: 
 And he llrst took exceptions at this badge, 
 Pronouncing— that the paleness of this Hower 
 Bewray'd the laintness of my master's heart. 
 York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? 
 Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will 
 out. 
 Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. 
 K. Hen. Good lord ! what madness rules in brain- 
 sick men! 
 When, lor so slight and frivolous a cause, 
 Such factious emulations shall arise! 
 Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, 
 Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. 
 
 Ym-k. Let this dissension first be tried by fight; 
 And then your highness shall command a peace. 
 Sfnn. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; 
 Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. 
 
 York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. 
 Ver. Nay. let it rest where it began at first. 
 Bas. Confirm it so, mine honorable lord. 
 Gto. Confirm it so? confounded be your strife, 
 And perish ye, with your audacious prate! 
 Presumptuous vassals! are you not ashamed. 
 With this immodest clamorous outrage 
 To trouble and disturb the king and us? 
 And you, my lords, — methinks, you do not well. 
 To boar with their perverse objections; 
 Much less, to take occasion from their mouths 
 To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves; 
 Let me persuade" you take a better course. 
 Exe. It grieves his highness;— Good my lords, be 
 
 friends. 
 K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be com- 
 batants ; 
 
 3 Anticipated. * Resist. 
 
400 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IV 
 
 Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favor, 
 
 Quite to forjiel tins quarrel, and the cause. — 
 
 And you, my lords, remember where we are; 
 
 In France, amonj^st a fickle wavering nation : 
 
 If they perceive dissension in our looks, 
 
 And that within ourselves we disagree, 
 
 How will their grudging stomachs he provokM 
 
 To willful disobedience, and rebel? 
 
 Beside, what inlamy will there arise. 
 
 When foreign princes shall be certified, 
 
 Tliat, for a toy, a thing of no regard, 
 
 King Henry's peers, and chief nobility, 
 
 DesfroyM themselves, and lost the realm of France? 
 
 O, tliink upon the conquest of my father, 
 
 My tender years; and let us not tbrego 
 
 That for a triHe, that was bought with blood! 
 
 Let me be umpire in tliis doubtful strife. 
 
 I see no reason, if I wear this rose, 
 
 [Puitins on a red Rose. 
 That any one should therefore be suspicious 
 I more incline to Somerset, than York: 
 Both are my Idnsmen, and I love them both: 
 As well they may upbraid me with my crown, 
 llecause, tbrsooth, the king of Scots is crownM. 
 But your discretions better can persuade. 
 Than I am able to instruct or teach: 
 And therefore, as we hither came in peace. 
 So let us still continue peace and love. — 
 Cousin 6f York, we institute your grace 
 To be our regent in these parts of France: — 
 And good my lord of Somerset, unite 
 Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; 
 And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, 
 Go cheerftUy together, and digest 
 Your angry choler on your enemies. 
 Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest. 
 After some respite, will return to Calais; 
 From thence to England; where I hope efe long 
 To be presented, by your victories, 
 With Charles, Alenc^on, and that traitorous rout. 
 [Flourish. Exeunt King Henry, Glo., Som., 
 Win., Suf., and Basset. 
 
 War. My lord of York, I promise you, tiie king 
 Prettily, methought, did play the orator. 
 
 York. And so he did; but 3'^et I like it not. 
 In that lie wears the badge of Somerset. 
 
 War. Tush! that was but his faiicy, blame him 
 not; 
 I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. 
 
 York. And, if I wist iie did, — But let it rest; 
 Other afldirs must now be managed. 
 
 [Exeunt York, Warwicic, and Vernon. 
 
 Exe. Well didsL thou, Richard, to suppress thy 
 voice; 
 For, hath the passions of thy heart burst out, 
 I fear we should have seen decipherM there 
 More rancorous spite, more furious roging broils. 
 Than yet can be imagined or supposM. 
 But liowsoe'er, no simple man that sees 
 This jarring discord of nobility. 
 This should'ring of each other in the court, 
 This factious bandying of their favorites, 
 But that it doth presage some ill event. 
 'Tis much, when sceptres are in children's hands; 
 But more, when envy breeds unkind division; 
 There comes the ruin, there begins conlusion. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE 11.— France. Before Bourdeaux. 
 
 Enter Talbot, with, his Forces. 
 
 Tal. Go to tlie gates of Bourdcaux, trumpeter, 
 Summon their general unto the wall. 
 
 Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter^ on the Walls^ 
 
 the General of the French Forces, and others. 
 English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, 
 Servant in arms to Harry, king of England; 
 And thus he would,— Open your city gates, 
 Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours. 
 And do him homage as obedient sulijects, 
 And ni withdraw me and my bloody power: 
 But, if you iVown upon this protfer'd peace, 
 You tempt the fury of my three attendants, 
 Lean famuie, quartering steel, and climbing tire; 
 Wlio, in a moini'iit, cvt-n with the earth 
 Shall lay yt>ur stalely and air-bravnig towers, 
 If you Ji)rsake the oiler of their love. 
 
 Gen. Thou ominous and Ibarful owl of death, 
 Our nation^s terror, and their bloody scourge! 
 
 The period of tliy tyranny approaciieth. 
 
 On us thou canst not enter but by death: 
 
 Kor, I protest, we are well fortified, 
 
 And strong enough to issue out and fight: 
 
 If thou retire, the dauphin, welt appointed, 
 
 Stands with the snares of war to tangle thbf ; 
 
 On either hand thee there are squadrons piich'd. 
 
 To wall thee Irom the liberty of flight; 
 
 And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, 
 
 But death doth front thee with apparent spoil, 
 
 And pale destruction meets thee ia the face. 
 
 Ten thousand French have taVn the sacrament, 
 
 To rive their dangerous artillery 
 
 Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. 
 
 Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, 
 
 Of an invincible unconquerM spirit; 
 
 This is the latest glory of thy praise. 
 
 That I, thy enemy, due^ thee withal ; 
 
 For ere the glass, that now begins to run, 
 
 Finish the process of tlii^ sandy hour. 
 
 These eyes, that see thee now well colored, 
 
 Shall see thee withcrM, bloody, pale, and dead. 
 
 [Drum afar o^ 
 Hark! hark! the dauphin's drum, a warning bell, 
 Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; 
 And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. 
 
 [Exeunt General, ^■c.,froni the Walls. 
 Tal. He fables not, 1 hear the enemy; — 
 Out, somelight horsemen, and peruse their wings. — 
 O, negligent and heedless discipline! 
 How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale; 
 A little herd of England's timorous deer, 
 MazM with a yelping kennel of French curs! 
 If we be English deer, be then in blood:^ 
 Not rascal-like,' to tall down with a pinch; 
 But rather moody-mad, and desperate stays, 
 Turn on the bloody iiounds with heads ot steel, 
 And make the cowards stand aloof at bay : 
 Sell every man his life as dear as mine. 
 And they shall lind dear deer of us, my friends. — 
 God, and saint George! Talbot, and England's 
 
 right! 
 Prosper our colors in this dangerous fight! 
 
 [Excuiit. 
 
 SCENE III.— P/(^in5 in Gascony. 
 
 Enter York, with Forces; to /dm a Messenger, 
 
 York. Arc not the speedy scouts return'd again, 
 That dogg'd the mighty army of the dauphin? 
 
 Mess. They are returned, my lord; and give it out^ 
 That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power, 
 To fight with Talbot: As he marcliM along, 
 By your espials^ were discovered 
 Two mightier troitps tlian that the dauphin led: 
 Which join'd with him, and made their march lor 
 Bourdeaux. 
 
 Y(/rk. A plague upon that villain Somerset; 
 That thus delays my promised supply 
 Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! 
 Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid; 
 And I am lowted" by a traitor villain, 
 And cannot help the noble chevalier: 
 God comfort him in his necessity! 
 If he miscarry, lixrewell wars in France. 
 Enter Sir William Lucy. 
 
 Luci/. Thou princely leader of our English 
 strength, 
 Never so needful on the earth of France, 
 Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot; 
 VVho now is girdled with a waist of iron, 
 And hemm'd about with grim destruction: 
 To Bourdeaux, warlike duke ! to Bourdeaux. York! 
 Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honor. 
 
 York. God ! that Somerset — who in proud heart 
 Doth stop my cornets — were in Talbot's place! 
 So slmiild we save a valiant gentleman. 
 By lot tntnig a traitor and a coward. 
 Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep, 
 That thus we die, wliile remiss traitors sleep. 
 
 Luciu O, send some succor lo the distressed lord! 
 
 York, He dies, v\-e lose; I break my warlike word: 
 We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get; 
 All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset. 
 
 Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's 
 soul ! 
 
 ^Knduo, honor. '"'In lii{^h snirits. 
 
 ' A rascal deer is the term of chace for lean jioor deer 
 8 Spies. " Vaiiiiuislied. balllel 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 401 
 
 And on his son, youn^ John; whom, tv,o hours 
 
 since, 
 I met in travel toward his warlike father. 
 These seven years did not Talbot see his son ; 
 And now the}' meet where both their Jives are done. 
 
 York. Alas! wliat joy shall noble Taibot have, 
 To bid his young son welcome to his grave! 
 Away! vexation almost stops my breath, 
 That sunder'd iViciids greet in the hour of death. — 
 Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can. 
 But curse the cause 1 cannot aid the man. — 
 Maine, Blois, Poicliers, and Toui-s, are won away, 
 'Long all of Somerset, and his delay. [i'j,i/. 
 
 Luc'j. Thus, while the vulture of sedition 
 Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, 
 Sleeping neglcction dolli betray to lo.ss 
 The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, 
 That ever-living man of memory, 
 Henry the Filth: — Whiles they each other cross, 
 Lives, lienors, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE lY.— Other Plains of Gascony. 
 
 Enter Someuset, wil/i his Forces; an Officer of 
 Talbot's with liirn. 
 
 Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now; 
 This expedition was by York, and Talbot, 
 Too rashly plotted; all our general Ibrce 
 Might with a sally of the very town 
 Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot , 
 Hath sullied all his gloss of former honor, 
 By this unhecdful, desperate, wild adventure; 
 York set him on to tight, and die in shame, 
 That, Talbot dead, great York miglit bear the name. 
 
 Ojf'. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me 
 Set from our o'er-inatch'd Ibrces Ibrtli lor aid. 
 
 Enter Siit William Lucy. 
 
 Som. How now, sir William 1 whither were you 
 
 sent ! 
 Lucy. Whither, my lordl from bought and sold 
 lord Talbot; 
 Who, ring'd about' with bold adversity, 
 Cries out lor noble York and Somerset, 
 To beat assailing death from his weak legions. 
 And whiles the honorable captain there ^ 
 Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, 
 And, in advantage ling'ring, looks lor rescue, 
 You, Ins lalse hopes, the trust of England's lienor. 
 Keep olf aloof with worthless emulation. 
 Let not-your private discord keep away 
 The levied succors that should lend hiiii aid, 
 While he, renowned noble genlleman. 
 Yields up his life unto a world of odds: 
 Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, 
 Alen<;oii, Reignier, compass him about. 
 And Talbot perishelli by your default. 
 Sum. York set iiini on, Y'ork should have sent 
 
 him aid. 
 Luc'j. And York as fast upon your grace ex- 
 claims; 
 Swearing that you withhold his levied liorse, 
 Collected lor this expedition. 
 Som. York lies; Im might have sent and liad the 
 horse: 
 I owe him little duty, and less love; 
 And take foul scorn, to lawn on him by sending. 
 Lucy. The fraud of England, not the lorce of 
 France, 
 Hath now cntrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: 
 Never to England shall he bear his lile; 
 But dies, betray'd to fortune hy your strife. 
 Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen 
 straight: 
 VVitiiin six hours they will be at his aid. 
 
 Lucy. Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en orslain: 
 For lly he could not, if he would have tied; 
 Aiitl Uy would Talbot never, though he might. 
 Som. It he be dead, biave Talbot then adieu! 
 Lucy. His fame lives in the world, Jiis shame in 
 you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. — TAe English Camp near Boatdeaax. 
 
 Enter Talbot, and John his Son. 
 
 Tal. young John Talbot! I did send for thee. 
 To tutor thee fn stratagems of war; 
 
 'Encircled. 
 
 That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, 
 VV^heii sajjless age, and weak unable limbs, 
 Should bring th} lather to his drooping chair. 
 But. — iiuiligiiiiiit and ill-boding stars! — 
 Now thou art come unto a least of death, 
 A terrible and niiavoided" danger: 
 Therelbre, dear hoy, mount on my swiftest horse; 
 And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape 
 By sudden flight: come, dally not; begone. 
 
 John, is my name Talbot? and am 1 your son? 
 And shall 1 lly ! O, if you love my mother, 
 Dishono;- not her honorable name. 
 To make a bastard, and a slave of me: 
 The world will say— He is not Talbot's blood. 
 That basely dcd when noble Talbot stood. 
 
 Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, it' 1 be slain. 
 
 Juhti. He, that Hies so, will ne'er return again. 
 
 Tal. H" we both slay, we both are sure to die. 
 
 John. Then let ine stay; and, latiier, do you lly: 
 Your loss is great, so jour regard^ should be; 
 My worth uiiknow ii, no less is known in me. 
 Ljion my death the French can little boast; 
 In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. 
 Flight cannot stain the honor you have won; 
 But mine it will, that no exploit have done; 
 You lied lor vantage, every one will swear; 
 But, if I bow, they'll say — it was Ibr fear. 
 There is no hope that ever I will stay. 
 If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away. 
 Here on my knee, I beg mortality. 
 Rather than life pieserv'd with inliimy. 
 
 Tal. Shall all thy inother'shopes liein one tombi 
 
 John. A J', rather than I'll shame my mother's 
 womb. 
 
 Tal. Upon my blessing, I command thee go. 
 
 John. To light 1 will, but not to liy the loe. 
 
 'Tal. Part of th}' liither may be sav'd in thee. 
 
 John. No part Ct( him, but will be shame in me. 
 
 Tal. Thou never liadst renown, nor canst not 
 lose it. 
 
 John. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight 
 abuse it ] 
 
 Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from 
 that stain. 
 
 John. You cannot witness for me, being slain. 
 If death be so apparent, then both lly. 
 
 Tal. And lea\e my ibllowers here, to fight and 
 die! 
 My age was never tainted with such shame. 
 
 John. Andshall my youth beguiltyof such blame? 
 No more can I be severed from your side. 
 That can yourself j ourself in twain divide : 
 Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I; 
 For live 1 will not, if my lather die. 
 
 Tal. Then here 1 take my leave of thee, fair son, 
 Born to eclipse thy lile this afternoon. 
 Come, side by side together live and die; 
 And soul with soul from France to heaven rly. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \l.— A Field of Battle. 
 
 Alarum: Excur.'iion, wherein Talbot's Son is 
 lienimcd about, and Talbot rescues him. 
 
 Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, 
 fight: 
 The regent hath with Talbot broke his word, 
 And lell us to the rage of France's sword. 
 Where is John Talbot '—pause, and take thy breath; 
 I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death. 
 
 John. twice my lather! twice am I thy son: 
 The lite thou gav'st me first, was lost and done; 
 Till with thy warlike sword, despite of late, 
 To my dfteiniiird' time thou gav'st new date. 
 
 Tal. When from the dauphin's crest thy s»ord 
 struck fire. 
 It warin'd thy lather's heart with proud desire 
 Of bold-laced victory. Then leaden age, 
 Quicken'd with }Oulliful .-spleen, and warlike rage, 
 Beat down Aleui,cin, Orleans, Burgundy. 
 And from the piide of Gallia rescued tliee. 
 The ireful bastard Orleans — that drew blood 
 From thee, my boy ; aiid had the maidenhood 
 Of thy first fight— 1 soon encountered; 
 And. interchaiiging blows, I quickly shed 
 Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace, 
 Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, 
 
 3For unavoidalile 
 3 Your care o^ > ov.r own satety. 
 20 
 
 * Ended. 
 
402 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 And mishegoitcn blood I spilt of thine. 
 
 Mean, and right jioor,- for Ih/il pure blood of mine. 
 
 Which thou, didst force from Talbot, my brave 
 
 boy:— 
 Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy. 
 Came m strong rescue. Speak, thy lather's care; 
 Art not thou weary, John] How dost thou fare T 
 Wi!t thou yet leave the battle, boy, and lly. 
 Now tliou art seaPd the son of chivalry? 
 Fly, to reven;j;e my death, when I am dead; 
 Tlic help of one stands me in little stead. 
 O, too much foliy is it, well I wot, 
 To iiazard all our lives in one small boat. 
 If I to-day die not with l''rcncl)men''s rage, 
 To-morrow I shall die with mickie age; 
 By me they nothing gain, an if I stay, 
 'Tis but tlie short'ning of my life one day: 
 In tiiee thy mother dies, our houschokrs name. 
 My death's revenge, tliy youth, and England's 
 
 fame. 
 All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; 
 All (hose are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away. 
 John. Tlie sword of Orleans hath not made me 
 
 smalt, 
 These words of yours draw life-blood from my 
 
 heart : 
 On tiiat advantage, bought with such a shame, 
 (To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,) 
 Before young Talbot from old Talbot tly, 
 The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die: 
 And like" me to the peasant boys of France; 
 To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance! 
 Surely, by all the glory you have won. 
 An if I lly, I am not Talbot's son: 
 Tiien talk no more of tlight, it is no boot; 
 If son to Talbot, die at Talbofs foot. 
 
 Tat. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete, 
 Tiiou Icarus; thy lile to me is sweet: 
 If thovi wilt fight, light by thy father's side; 
 And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride, 
 
 [Exeimt. 
 
 SCENE Vll.— Another Part of the same. 
 
 Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot tvounded, 
 supported by a Servant. 
 Tal. Where is my other life*! mine own is 
 gone;— 
 O, Where's young Talbot? where is valiant John? — 
 Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity ! 
 Young Talbot's valor makes me sinile at thee:^ 
 Wiion he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, 
 Hi.s bloody sword iie brandisliM over mo, 
 And, hkc a hungry lion, did commence 
 Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience; 
 But when my angry guardant stood alone, 
 Tend'ring my ruin,« and assail'd of none, 
 Dizzy-ey'ii fury, and great rage of heart, 
 Suddenly made him from my side to start 
 Into tlie clust'ring battle of the French: 
 And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
 His overmounting spirit; and there died 
 ]Vly Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of John Talbot. 
 
 Serv. 0, my dear lord! lo, where your son is 
 
 borne ! 
 Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to 
 scorn, 
 Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, 
 Coujilcd in bonds of perpetuity, 
 Two Talbots, winged through the lither"' sky, 
 In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality. — 
 O thou whose wounds become hard-tavor'd death, 
 Sjjcak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath: 
 Bravo death by speaking, whether he will, or no; 
 Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.^ 
 Poor boy! he smiles, melhinks; as who should 
 
 say — 
 Had death been French, then death had died to- 
 day. 
 Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms; 
 My spirit can no iDugor bear these harms. 
 Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, 
 Now my old arms iue young Jdhn Talbot's grave. 
 
 [Dies, 
 
 *M.ike rac like. 
 
 "Watching nie with tenilerness in my fall. 
 
 ' Flo.ible, yielding. 
 
 Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the 
 two Bodies. A'///erCHAULEs,ALENLON, Burgundy, 
 Bastard, LA Pucellb, and Forces.' 
 
 Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue 
 in, 
 We should have found a bloody day of this. 
 Bust. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging 
 wood," 
 Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood! 
 Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said, 
 Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'^d by a maid: 
 But — with a proud, majestical, high "scorn — 
 He answer'd thus : Young Talbot was not born 
 To be the pillage of a giglot^ tvench: 
 So, rusliing in the bowels of the French, 
 He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. 
 Bur. Doubtless, he would havemade a noble 
 knight : 
 See. where he lies inherscd in the arms 
 Of the most bloody nurser of his haruis. 
 Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones 
 asunder; 
 Whose Ufa was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. 
 Char. 0, no; tbrbear: for that which we have 
 fled 
 During the life, let us not wrong it dead. 
 
 Enter Sm William Luct, attended; a Frenci 
 Herald preceding. 
 
 Lucy. Herald. 
 Conduct me to the dauphin's tent; to know 
 Who hath obtani'd the glory of the day. 
 
 Char. On what submissive message art thoU 
 sent? 
 
 Lucy. Submission, dauphin? 'tis a mere French 
 word ; 
 We English warriors wot not what it means. 
 I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en. 
 And to survey the bodies of the dead. 
 
 Char. For prisoners ask'st thou? iiell our prison 
 is. 
 But tell me wOiom thou seek'st. 
 
 lAicy. Where is the great'Alcides of the field, 
 Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury — 
 Created, for his rare success in arms, 
 Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence; 
 Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, 
 Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton, 
 Lord Cromwell of Wingheld, lord Furnival of 
 
 Sheffield, 
 The tlirice victorious lord of Falconbridge; 
 Knight of the noble order of saint George, 
 Worthy saint Michael, and the golden tlcece; 
 Great mareshal to Henry the Sixth, 
 Of all his wars within the realm of France? 
 
 Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed ! 
 The Turk, that two-and-lifty kingdoms hath, 
 Writes not so tedious a style as this. — 
 Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles, 
 Stinking and tlv-blown, lies here at our feet. 
 
 Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only 
 scourge, 
 Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? 
 O, were mine eyc-bnils into bullets turn'd, 
 That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces! 
 O, that I could but call these dead to life ! 
 H. were enough to fright the realm of France: 
 Were but his picture left among you here, 
 It would amaze the proudest of you all. 
 Give me th.'ir bodies that I may bear them 
 
 hence. 
 And give tliein burial as beseems their worth. 
 
 Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, 
 He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. 
 For God's sake, let him have 'em ; to keep them 
 
 here, 
 They would but stink, and putrefy the air. 
 
 Char. Go, take their bodies hence. 
 
 Lucy. I'll bear them henco 
 
 But fiom their ashes shall be rear'd 
 A pliirnix that shall make all France afeard. 
 
 Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em wliat 
 (lion wilt. 
 And now to Fiiris. in this conquering vein; 
 All will be curs^ now bloody Talbot's slain. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ^Raving mad. 
 
 Wanton. 
 
Act V. Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 403 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter KiKG He.vry, Gloster, and Exeter. 
 
 K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the 
 pope, 
 The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac? 
 
 Glo. I have, my lord; and their intent is this,— 
 They humbly sue nnto your excellence. 
 To have a godly peace concluded of. 
 Between the realms of Ensland and of France. 
 
 A'. He".. How doth your grace all'ect Ihcir motion? 
 
 Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means 
 To stop effusion of our Christian blood. 
 And 'stahlish quietness on every side. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncie ; for I always thought, 
 It was both mipious and unnatural. 
 That such immauity > and bloody strife 
 Should reign among prolessors of one faitli. 
 
 Glo. Beside, my lord. — the sooner to ellect, 
 And surer bind, this knot of amity, — 
 The carl of Armagnac — near knit to Charles, 
 A man of great authority in France. — 
 Prolfers his only daughter to your grace 
 In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowrj'. 
 
 A'. Hen. jlarriage, uncle! alas! my years are 
 young; 
 And filler is my study and my books. 
 Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. 
 Vet, call Ihe ambassadors; and, as you please, 
 So let Ihein have their answers every one: 
 I shall bo well content with any choice. 
 Tends to God^s glory, and my country's weal. 
 Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, willi WiN- 
 CUESTER, in a CunlinaPs Habit. 
 
 Exe. What! is my lord of Winchester install'd, 
 And call'd unto a cardinaPs degree! 
 Then, I perceive, that will be verified, 
 Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy, — 
 If once lie come to he a cardinal, 
 he^ll inatiC ttl'i cap co-equal with, the crown. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several 
 suits 
 Have been consider'd and debated on. 
 Vour purpose is both good and reasonable: 
 And, therefore, are we certainty resolv'd 
 To draw conditions of a friendly peace; 
 Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean 
 Shall be transported presently to France. 
 
 Glo. Andfortheprolicrof mylord yourmaster, — 
 I have inform'd his highness so at large, 
 As — liking of the lady's virtuous gil'ts. 
 Her beauty, and the value o( her dower, — 
 He doth intend she shall be England's queen. 
 
 K.llen. luargumentand proof of which contract. 
 Bear her this jewel, [To tlie Amb.] pledge of my 
 
 allection. 
 And so. my lord protector, see them guarded. 
 And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, 
 Commit them to the fortune of the sea. 
 
 [Exeunt King Henry and Train; Gloster, 
 Exeter, and Ambassadors. 
 
 TVin. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive 
 The sunr of money, which I promised 
 Sboultl be deliver'd to his holiness 
 For clothing me in these grave ornaments. 
 
 Ee.^. I will attend upon your lordship's leistire. 
 
 IVin. ^fow, Winchester will not submit, I trow. 
 Or be inferior to the proudest peer. 
 Humphrey of Gloster, tliou shalt well perceive, 
 That neitlier in birth, or for authority. 
 The bishoii will be overborne by thee: 
 ril either make thee stooji. and bend thy knee. 
 Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— France. Plain.<! in Anjou. 
 
 'Enter Charles, Burgdxdy, Alestox, L.4. Pucelle, 
 and Forces, marching. 
 
 Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our 
 drooping spirits: 
 
 ^ iDhum.^nlty. 
 
 'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt, 
 And turn again unto llie warlike French. 
 
 Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of 
 France, 
 And keep not back your powers in dalliance. 
 
 Pnc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us 
 Else, ruin combat with their palaces! 
 Enter a Messenger. . 
 
 Mesa. Success unto our valiant general, 
 And happiness to his accomplices! 
 
 Chur. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythce, 
 speak. 
 
 Mess. The English army, that divided was 
 Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one; 
 And means to give you battle preseiuly. 
 
 Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is; 
 But we will presently jjrovidc for lliem. 
 
 Bar. I trust, the ghost of Talbot is not there ; 
 Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 
 
 Puc. Of all base passions, tear is most accurs'd :^ 
 Command the conrjuest, Charles, it shall be tliine; 
 Let lieury fret, and all the world rejiine. 
 
 Char. Then on, my lords; And France be for- 
 tunate ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Before Anglers. 
 Alarums; Excursions. Enter L.i Pccelle. 
 Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen 
 tly.- 
 Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;' 
 And ye choice s]>irits that admonish nie. 
 And give me signs of future accidents ! [Tliuiider 
 Vou speedy helpers, that are substitutes 
 L'nder the lordU' monarch of the north,^ 
 Appear, and aid me in this enterprizc! — 
 
 Enter Fiends. 
 
 This speedy quick appearance argues proof 
 
 Of your accustom'd dilligcnce to me. 
 
 Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cuH'd 
 
 Out of the powerful regions under earth. 
 
 Help me this once, that France may get the field. 
 
 [They walk about, and speal; not. 
 O, hold me not with silence over-long! 
 Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, 
 I'll lop a member off, and give it you, 
 In earnest of a further benefit; 
 So you do condescend to help ine now. — 
 
 [Theii hung their heads. 
 No hope to have redress? — My body shall 
 Pay recompense, it you will jjrant my suit. 
 
 [ Ttiey shake their heads. 
 Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrilice, 
 Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? 
 Then take my soul; my body, soul, and all, 
 Belbre that England give the' French the foil. 
 
 [They depart. 
 Sec! they for.sake me. Now the time is come. 
 That F'rance must vail* her lofty-plumed crest, 
 And let' her head fall into England's lap. 
 My ancient inc^antations are too weak. 
 And hell too strong for me to buckle with : 
 Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Alarums. Enter French and Enjilish fighting. La. 
 
 Pitcei.i.e anil York fight hand to liand. La 
 
 PiCELLE is taken. The French/!;/. 
 
 York. Damsel of France, I think I have 3'on fas^ 
 Unchain your spirits now with .spelling charms, 
 .\nd try if they can gain your liberty. — ■ 
 A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! 
 See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows. 
 As if, with Circe, she would change my shape. 
 
 Puc. Changed to a worser shape thou canst not 
 be. 
 
 York. O, Charles the dauphin is a proper man: 
 No shape but his can please your dainty eye. 
 
 2 Charms worn aliout the person. 
 
 3 The north wag supposed to be the particular Iial>ita- 
 tion of bad spirits. ^ Lower. 
 
404 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and 
 thee! 
 And may ye both be suddenly surprisM 
 By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! 
 
 Yurk. Fell, banning' iiug! enchantress, hold thy 
 
 tonsue. 
 Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while. 
 Yurk. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to 
 tlie slake. [Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady Mar- 
 garet. 
 
 Suf. Be what ihou wilt, thou art my prisoner. 
 
 [Gazes on her. 
 
 fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ; 
 
 For I will toucli thee but with reverent hands, 
 And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
 
 1 Jiiss these fingers [Kissing her hand.] for eter- 
 
 nal peace: 
 "Who art thoul say, that I may honor thee. 
 
 Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king, 
 The king of Naples, whosoVr thou art. 
 
 Suf An earl 1 am, and Sullblk am 1 call'd. 
 Be not ollbnded, nature's miracle. 
 Thou art alotted to be ta'en by mc: 
 So doth the swan her downy cyicnets save, 
 Kcephig them prisoners underiR-atli her wings. 
 Yet, if this servile usage <mce ulU'nd, 
 Go, and be free again as SuHolk's friend. 
 
 [She turns awai/ os going. 
 O, stay !— I have no power to let her pass ; 
 My hand would free her, but my heart says— no. 
 As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, 
 Twnikling another countcrleited beam, 
 So seems "this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. 
 Fain would 1 woo her, yet I dare not speak; 
 I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind: 
 Fye, De la Poole! disable not thyself;" 
 Hast not a tongue 7 Is she not here thy prisoner? 
 Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight] 
 Ay; beauty''s princt'ty nnijesty is such. 
 Confounds the tont;ue, :ind makes the senses rough. 
 
 Mar, Say, earl of Sullblk, — if thy name be so, — 
 "What ransom must I pay before 1 pass? 
 For I perceive, I am thy prisoner. 
 
 Suf. How canst thou tell slie will deny thy suit. 
 Before thou make a trial of iier love f [Asite. 
 
 Mar. Why speak'st thou not! what ransom 
 must I pay 7 
 
 Suf. Slic's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd: 
 She IS a woman; thcrelbrc to be won. [Aside. 
 
 Mar. WiJt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no] 
 
 Suf. Fond man ! remember that thou hast a wire; 
 Tlien how can Margaret be thy paramour] [Aside. 
 
 Mar. I were best leave liiin, for he will not hear. 
 
 Suf. There all is inarr'd ; there lies a coolmg card. 
 
 Mar, He talks at random; sure tlie man is mad. 
 
 Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. 
 
 Mar. And yet I would that you would answer 
 me. 
 
 Suf. ril win this lady Margaret. For whom ] 
 Why. for my king: Tush! that's a wooden thingJ 
 
 Mar. He talks of wood: It is some carpenter. 
 
 Suf Yet so my fancy" may be satisfied, 
 ■ And peace established between these realms. 
 But there remains a scruple in that too: 
 For though her father be the king of Naples, 
 Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is lie poor, 
 And our nobility wilt scorn the match. [Aside. 
 
 Mar. Ileiir ye, captain] Are you not at leisure] 
 
 Suf It siiall be so, disdain they ne'er so much; 
 Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. — 
 
 [Aside. 
 Madam I have a secret !o reveal. 
 
 Mar. What though 1 be entliraird] he seems a 
 knigiit, 
 And will nut any way dislionor me. [Aside. 
 
 Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. 
 
 Mar. Perhaps, 1 shall be rescued by the French; 
 And then I need not crave his courtesy. [A-nde. 
 
 Sitf Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause — 
 
 Mar. Tush ! women have been captivate ere now. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so] 
 
 Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but <jui I for guo. 
 
 ^To ban ia to curse. 
 '^ Do not represent thyself go weak. 
 1 An awkward busniesa, an undertaking not likely to 
 succeeil. «Love. 
 
 Suf. Suy, gentle princess, would you not sup- 
 pose 
 Your bondage happy, to be made a queen ? 
 
 Mar. To be a queen in liondage, is more vile. 
 Than is a slave in base servility; 
 For princes should be free. 
 
 Suf. And so shall you 
 
 If liappy England's royal king be free. 
 
 Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me] 
 
 Suf I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen; 
 To put a golden sceptre in thy hand, 
 And set a precious crown upon thy head, 
 If thou wilt condescend to be my — 
 
 Mar. What ] 
 
 Suf. His love. 
 
 Mar. 1 am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
 
 Suf No, gentle madam; I unworthy am 
 To woo so lair a dame to be his wife. 
 And have no portion in the choice myself. 
 How say you, madam ; are you so content] 
 
 Mar. An if iny lather please, 1 am content. 
 
 Suf. Then call our caj)lains, and our colors forth 
 And, madam, at your father's castle walls 
 We'll crave a parley, to confer with him. 
 
 [Troops come forward, 
 
 A Parley sounded. Enter Reic.nier, on the Walls 
 
 Suf See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner. 
 
 Jieig. To whom] 
 
 Suf. To me. 
 
 Reig. SutToIk, what remedy ] 
 
 I am a soldier; and unapt to weep. 
 Or to exclaim on tbrtiuie's fickleness. 
 
 Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: 
 Consent, (and for thy honor, give consent,) 
 Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; 
 Whom I with pain have wooM and won tlicrcto, 
 And tliis her easy-held imprisonment 
 Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty, 
 
 Reig. Speaks Sullblk as he thinks] 
 
 Suf. Fair Margaret knows, 
 
 That SulTolk doth not flatter, face,^ or teign. 
 
 Reig. Upon the princely warrant, I descend. 
 To give thee answer of thy just demand. 
 
 [Exit from the JVall^* 
 
 Suf And here I will expect thy coming. 
 
 Trumpets sounded. Enter Reignier, below, 
 
 Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories; 
 Command in Anjou what your honor pleases. 
 
 Suf, Tlianks, Keignier, happy for so sweet a 
 child. 
 Fit to be made companion with a king: 
 What answer makes your grace unto my suit] 
 
 Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little 
 worth, 
 To he the princely pride of such a lord; 
 Upon condition 1 may quietly 
 Enjoy mine own, tlie county Maine, and Anjou, 
 Free from oppression, or the stroke of war, 
 My daughter shall be Henry's if lie please. 
 
 Suf. That is her ransom, I deliver her; 
 And those two counties I will undertake, 
 Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. 
 
 Reig. And I again — in Henry's royal name, 
 As deputy unto that gracious king. 
 Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted fiiith. 
 
 Suf. Reignier of France. I give thee kingly thanks, 
 Because this is in trafiic of a king: 
 And yet, methinks, I could be well content 
 To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside, 
 
 I'll over then to England with this news. 
 And make this marriage to be solemniz'd; 
 So, farewell, Reignier! Set this diamond safe 
 In golden palaces, as it becomes. 
 
 Reig. 1 do embrace thee, as I would embrace 
 The Cliristian prince, king Henry, were lie here. 
 
 Mar. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, 
 and prayers. 
 Shall Sullblk ever have of Margaret. [Going 
 
 Suf Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you, 
 Margaret; 
 No princely commendations to my king? 
 
 Mar. Such eommend.itions as become a maid, 
 A virgin, and his servant, say to him. 
 
 Suf Wuidssweetly placed, and modestlydirectett 
 Hut, "madam. I must trouble you again, — 
 .No loving token to his majesty. 
 
 ^XMay the hypocrite. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 405 
 
 Mar. Yes, my good lord; a pure, unspotted heart, 
 Never yet taint with love, I send the kin^* 
 
 Suf. And this withal. [Kisses her. 
 
 Mar. That tor thyself; — I will not so presume. 
 To send such peevish ' tokens to a knv^. 
 
 [Exeimt Reignikr and Margahet. 
 
 Suf. 0, wert tiiou tor myselt !— But, Sullblk, stay ; 
 Thou niayst not wander in that ladyrinth ; 
 There Minotaurs. and ugly treasons, lurJc. 
 Sohcit Henry with lier wond'rous praise: 
 Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount; 
 MaJ,'* natural graces that extinguish art; 
 Ilepcat thei"- semblance often on the seas, 
 That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, 
 Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IX .-Camp of the Duke of York in Anjou. 
 
 Enter York, Warwick, and others. 
 
 York. Bring forth that sorceress, condcmnM to 
 burn. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle, guarded^ and a Shepherd. 
 
 Shcp. All, Joan! this kills thy father's heart out- 
 right! 
 Have I sought every country far and near, 
 And. now it is my chance to find thee out, 
 Must I behold thy timeless^ cruel death? 
 Ah. Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee! 
 
 Puc. Decrepid miser!* base ignoble wretch! 
 I am descended of a gentler blood; 
 Thou art no lather, nor no friend, of mine. 
 
 Shej). Out, out!— My lords, an please you, His 
 not so ; 
 I did beget her, all the parish knows: 
 Her mother livcth yet, can testify, 
 She w-as the tirst fruit of my bachelorship. 
 
 IVur. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentagel 
 
 York. This argues what her kind of li'fe hath been; 
 Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. 
 
 Shfp. Fie, Joan! that tiiou wilt be so obstacle!* 
 God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; 
 And (or thy sake have I shed many a tear: 
 Deny me not, I pr'ythee. gentle Joan. 
 
 Fuc. Peasant, avaunt! — You have suborn'd this 
 man, 
 On purpose to obscure my noble birth. 
 
 Stiep. 'Tis true, 1 gave a noble to tlie priest. 
 The morn that I was wedded to her motiier.— 
 Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. 
 Wilt thou not sLoop ! Now cursed be the tune 
 Of thy nativity! I would, the milk 
 Thy mother gave thee, when thou suck'dst her 
 
 breast. 
 Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake ! 
 Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, 
 I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee! 
 Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? 
 0, burn her, burn her; Jianging is too good. [Exit. 
 
 York. Takeheraway; forshe hath liv'd too fong, 
 To lill the world with vicious qualities. 
 
 Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have con- 
 demn'd : 
 Not me begotten of a sheiilierd swain, 
 But issu'd iVom the pro^oTiy of kings; 
 Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above, 
 By inspiration of celestial grace. 
 To work exceeding miracles on earth. 
 I never had to do with wicked spirits: 
 But yon. — that are polluted with your lusts, 
 StainM with the guiltless blood of innocents, 
 Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, — 
 Because you want the grace that others have. 
 You judge it straight a thing impossilile 
 To rompass wonders, but by help of devils. 
 No, misconceived!" Joan of Arc hath been 
 A virgin from her tender inlancy. 
 Chaste and immaculate in very thought; 
 Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously elfus'd, 
 Will cry fur vengeance at the gates of heaven. 
 
 York. Ay. ay; — away witli her to execution. 
 
 IVar. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid, 
 Spare lor no faggots, let there be cnougii: 
 
 ^Chil-lisli. 2 Wild. STntimely. 
 
 * Miser here simply means a miserable creature. 
 ^A corruption of oltstinate. 
 
 "'* No, ye misconceivers. ye who mistake me and mj 
 qualities." 
 
 place barrels of pitch upon the flital stake. 
 That so her torture may be shortened. 
 
 Puc. Willnothingturnyourunrclentinghearts? — 
 Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity; 
 That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. — 
 I am with child, ye bloody homicides: 
 Murder not then the fruit witJiin my womb, 
 Although ye hale me to a violent death. 
 
 York. Now heaven lorelend ! the holy maid with 
 child? 
 
 War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought: 
 Is all your strict preciseness com* to this? 
 
 Yo7'k. She and the dauphin have been juggling; 
 I did imagine what would be her refuge. 
 
 War. Well, go to; we will have no bastards live; 
 Especially since Charles must father it. 
 
 Puc. Vou are deceiv'd; my child is none of his; 
 It was Alen^on that enjoy'd my love. 
 
 York. Alcn^on! that notorious Machiavel! 
 It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 
 
 Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you; 
 'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the duke I nam'd, 
 But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevaiPd. 
 
 JVar. A married man! that's most intolerable. 
 
 York. Why, here's a girl! I tiiink, she knows not 
 well, 
 There was so many, whom she may accuse. 
 
 War. It's sign, she hath been liberal and free. 
 
 Yij?'k. And, yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure! — 
 Strunipet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee: 
 Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. 
 
 Puc. Then lead me hence;— with wiiom I leave 
 my curse: 
 May never glorious sun reflex his beams 
 Ipon the country where you make abode! 
 But darkness and the gI()oniy shade of death 
 Environ you; till mischief, and despair. 
 Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves! 
 
 [Exit, guarded. 
 
 York. Break thou in pieces. and consume to ashes, 
 Tiiou foul accursed minister of hell! 
 
 Enter Cardinal Beaufoht, attended. 
 
 Char. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence 
 Willi letters of commission froni the king. 
 For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, 
 IMov'd with remorse' of these outrageous broils, 
 Have earnestly implor'd a general peace 
 Hetwixt our nation and the aspiring French; 
 And here at hand the dauphin, and his train, 
 Aiii»roachelb, to coiiler about some matter. 
 
 York. Is all our travail turnM to this ellect? 
 After the slaughter ot so many peers. 
 So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, 
 That in this quarrel have been overthrown, 
 And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, 
 Shall we at last conchide clU'ininale peace? 
 Have we not losfmost ]>art of all the towns, 
 By treason, falsehood, and by treachery. 
 Our great progenitors had con{]uered? — 
 (). Warwick, U'arwick! I Ibresce with grief 
 The utter loss of all the realm of France. 
 
 IVar. Be patient, York; if we conclude a peace, 
 It shall be with such strict and severe covenants. 
 As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. 
 
 Enter CsARh^s, at tended ,• Alkncox, Bastard, Reig- 
 MKR, a/td utticrs. 
 
 Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed, 
 That peaceful truce should beproclaim'din France, 
 We come to be inlbrmed by yourselves 
 What the conditions of tha't league must be. 
 
 York. Speak, Winclicster; for boiling choler 
 chokes 
 The hollow passage of my poisonM voice, 
 ily si-iiit of these our baleful enemies. 
 
 Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: 
 That— in regard king Henry gives consent, 
 of mere compassion, and of lenity, 
 To ease your country of distressful war, 
 And sufler you to breathe in fruitful peace — 
 You shall bk^comc true liegemen to his crown: 
 And, Charles, upon condition tiiou wilt swear 
 To pay him tribute, and submit thyself. 
 Thou "shalt he placed as viceroy under liim. 
 And still enjoy thy regal dignity- 
 
 Atcn. Must he be then a sluufow of himself? 
 Adorn his temple with a coronet;^ 
 
 ' Compassion. ^ Coronet is here used for crown. 
 
406 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 
 
 Act v. 
 
 And yet, in substance and authority, 
 Retain but privilege of a private man? 
 Tliis prolfer is absurb and reasonless. 
 
 Vhar. 'Tis known, already, that I am possess'd 
 With more than half the Gallian territories. 
 And therein reverenced tor their lawful king: 
 Shall I, lor lucre of the rest unvanquish'd, 
 Detract so much from that prerogative. 
 As to be called but viceroy of the whole? 
 No. lord ambassador; I'll rather keep 
 That which I have, than, coveting lor more, 
 lie cast from possibility of all. 
 
 Yiirk. InsultingCharles! hast thou bysccretmeans 
 Used intercession to obtain a league; 
 And, now the matter grows to compromise, 
 Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison! 
 Either accept the title thou usurp'st. 
 Of beneht" proceeding from our king, 
 And not of any challenge of desert, 
 Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. 
 
 Ticiff. My lord, you ilo not well in obstinacy 
 To cavil in the course of this contract: 
 If once it be neglected, ten to one. 
 We shall not find like opportunity. 
 
 Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy, 
 To save your subjects from such massacre, 
 And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen 
 By our proceeding in hostility: 
 And theietbre take this compact of a truce, 
 Although you break it when your pleasure serves. 
 [Aside tn Charles. 
 
 War. How say'st thou, Charles! shall our con- 
 dition stand ? 
 
 Char. It shall; 
 Only reserv'd, you claim no interest 
 In any of our towns of garrison. 
 
 Yurk. Then swear allegiance to his majesty; 
 As thou art knight, never to disobey. 
 Nor be rebellious to the crown of Jingland, 
 Thou nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.— 
 
 [Chaules, awl the. rest, giee takeiis of f tally. 
 So. now dismiss your army when you please; 
 Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, 
 1 or here we entertain a solemn peace. [Exeunt. 
 
 SO ENE v.— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Hen'ry in conference with Suffolk; 
 Glosteh. and ExETErt, fulLowing. 
 
 K. Urn. Your wond'rous rare description, noble 
 earl. 
 Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me: 
 Her virtues, graced with external gifts. 
 Do breed love's settled passions in my heart: 
 And like as rigor in tempestuous gusts 
 Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide; 
 So am I driven, by breath of her renown, 
 Either to suHer shipwreck, or arrive 
 Where I may have fruition of her love. 
 
 Saf. Tush! my good lord! this superficial tale 
 Is but a preface of her worthy praise: 
 The chief perfections of that lovely dame, 
 (Had 1 sufficient skill to utter them.) 
 Would make a volume of enticing lines, 
 Able to ravish any dull conceit. 
 And, which is more, she is not so divine. 
 So full replete with choice of all delights. 
 Hut, with as humble lowliness of mind. 
 She is content to be at your command ; 
 Command. I mean, of virtuous, ciia^te intents. 
 To Jove and honor Henry .as her lord. 
 
 IC. Ufa. And odierwise will Henry ne'er presume. 
 Tlirreliire, my loril protector, give consent, 
 Tbiit .Mnrgaiet may be England's royal ipicen. 
 
 Clin. So should I give consent to Hatter sin. 
 You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd 
 Unto another lady of esteem; 
 How shall we then dispense with that contract, 
 And not deface your honor with reproach ! 
 
 Suf. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; 
 Or one, that, at a triumph' having vow'd 
 
 • " Be content to live as the beneflciav.v of our kjn?." 
 ■ .\ Innmi.li limn si^-uifiel a l<ublic e.\hil)ilion ; such 
 AS a mask, or revel. 
 
 To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists 
 By reason of his adversary's odds: 
 A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds: 
 And therefore may be broke without oirence. 
 Glo. Why. what, I pray, is Margaret more than 
 that] 
 Her father is no better than an earl, 
 Allbough in glorious titles he excel. 
 
 .Si//. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king, 
 The king of Naples, and Jerusalem ; 
 And of such great authority in France, 
 As his alliance will confirm our peace. 
 And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. 
 
 Glo. And so the earl of Armagnac may do, 
 Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. 
 
 Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant liberal 
 dower; 
 While Reignier sooner will receive, than give. 
 
 Suf. A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your 
 king. 
 That he should be so abject, base, and poor. 
 To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love. 
 Henry is able to enrich his queen. 
 And not to seek a queen to make him rich: 
 So worthless peasants bargain for tlieir wives, 
 .A.S market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. 
 Marriage is a matter of more worth. 
 Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; 
 Not whom we will, but whom his grace alTects, 
 Must be companion of his nuptial "bed; 
 And therefore, lords, since he alfects her most. 
 It most of all these reasons bindeth us, 
 111 our opinions she should be preferr'd. 
 For what is wedlock forced, but a hell. 
 An age of discord and (■(iiitiiiiial strife? 
 Whereas the contrary bniiiri-lli forth bliss. 
 And is a pattern of celestial peace. 
 Wlioiii should wc match with Henry, being a king. 
 But Margaret, that is daughter to a 'king ! 
 Her peerie-ss feature, joined with her birth, 
 Approves her fit for none, but lor a king; 
 Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit, 
 (.More than in women commonly is seen,) 
 Will answer our hope in issue of a king; 
 For Henry, son unto a conqueror. 
 Is likely to beget more conquerors. 
 If with a lady of so high resolve. 
 As is lirir Margaret, he be link'd in love. 
 Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me. 
 That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. 
 
 K. lien. Whether it be through force of your 
 report. 
 My noble lord of SulTolk; or for that 
 My tender youth was never yet attaint 
 VVith any passion of inllaining love, 
 I cannot tell; but Ibis I am assured, 
 I led such sharp dissension in my breast. 
 Such fierce alarums both of hope" and fear. 
 As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 
 Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to France; 
 Agree to any covenants; and procure 
 That lady Margaret do voucbsafi> to come 
 To cro.ss the seas to England, and be crown'd 
 King Henry's liiithful and annointcd queen; 
 For ""your expenses and sullicient charge, 
 .\mong the people gather up a tenth. 
 Begone, I say; tor, till you do return, 
 1 rest perplexed with a thousand cares. — 
 And you. good uncle, banish all oIUmicc; 
 If you do censure^ luc by what you were, 
 Not what you are, 1 know it will excuse 
 This sudden execution of my will. 
 And so conduct me, where from company, 
 I may resolve and ruminate my grief. [Exit. 
 
 Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me. both at first and last. 
 [Exeunt Glosteu, and Exetes. 
 
 Suf Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd: and thus he 
 - goes. 
 As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, 
 With hope to find the like event in love. 
 But prosper better than the Trojan did. 
 Margaret shall now be (iiiceii, and rule the king; 
 But 1 will rule both her, the king, and realm. 
 
 "Judge. 
 
SECOND PART OF 
 
 KING IIEXKY YI. 
 
 PERSONS nEPRESENTED. 
 
 KiNfi IIkxey the Sixth. 
 
 HujiPHREY, Duke of Glostcr, Ai.5 Uncle. 
 
 Cardinal BEAUFoiiT, Bishup af Winchester, great 
 
 bncLe to the King. 
 Richard Plastahexet, Dulte of York. 
 Edwakd and Riciiaud, hii Sons^ 
 Dike of Somerset, I 
 
 DtKE OF Slffolk, I 
 
 Dike of lUrKiNi;nAii, \of the King'^ Party. 
 Lord Clifford, 
 Young Clifford, liis Son, 
 Earl of Salisrl'rv, ) , ,■ j, ^ i.„,i, 77„,(;,„ 
 Earl of Warwick, \flf"^^ »* Fadim. 
 Lord Scales, Governor of the Tower. 
 Lord Say. 
 
 Sir Hiiii'nRET Staffokd, and Ms Brother. 
 Sir John Stanley. 
 A Sea-Captain, Master, and Master's Male, and 
 
 Walter Wiiitmore. 
 Two Gentlemen, Prisoners with SuBblk. 
 A Herald. 
 Vaox. 
 
 UratE a7id Southwell, two Priests. 
 BoLiNORROKE, u Conjurer. 
 A Spirit raised by him. 
 Thomas IIornek, an Armorer. 
 Peter, Ais Man. 
 Clerk of Chatham. 
 Mayor rf Saint Alban's. 
 SiMi'Cux, an Impostor, 
 Two Murderers. 
 Jack Cade, a Rebel. 
 
 (;eor(;e, John'. Dick, Smith the Weaver, Mi- 
 chael, i^c, Ai-s Foltower.s. 
 ALE.VANDE11 loEX, a Kentish Gentleinatu 
 
 Maroaret. Queen to King Henrj'. 
 Eleanor, Diiehess (j^" Glosier. 
 Maroery Jocrdaix, a Witch. 
 Wife to Siinpcox. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, a7id Attendants ; Fetifiimcrs, Alder- 
 men, a Beadle, Sheriff, and Ojficers; Citi^en.i, 
 Prentices, Falconers, Guards, Holdiers, Messen- 
 gers, 4c. 
 
 SCENE, dispersedly in various Parts of England. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. .4 Room of State in the 
 Palace, 
 
 FlourUih of Trumpets ; then Hauthm/s. Enffir,on^ 
 one side. King Henry, Duke of Gi-oster, Salks- 
 EiTRV, Warwick, and Cardinal Bkaufort; 07i 
 the other, Queen Margaret, led in hy Suffolk; 
 York. Somerset, Buckingham, and otha's, fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 Suf. As by your high imperial majesty 
 I had in chaVf^e, at my depart for France, 
 As i)rocurator to your excellence. 
 To marry princess Mar;;aret for your grace; 
 So in the famous ancient city. Tours, — 
 In presence nf the kind's of France and Sicil, 
 The dukes ot Orleans, Calaber, Bretaijinc, Alcngon, 
 Seven earls, twelve barons, twenty reverend bi- 
 shops. — 
 I have pcrforni'd my task, and was espous'd: 
 And humbly now upon my bended knee, 
 In si^ht of England^ and her lordly peers, 
 Deliver up my title in tlic queen 
 To your most gracious hands, that are the sub- 
 stance 
 Of that great shadow I did represent; 
 The happiest gift tliat ever marquess gave. 
 The fairest queen that ever king recelv'd. 
 A'. lien. Suflbllf, arise. — Welcome, queen Mar- 
 garet : 
 
 I can express no kinder sign of love, 
 
 Than this kind kiss.— Lord, that lends mc life, 
 
 Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! 
 
 For thou hast given me, in this beauteous Jiice, 
 
 A world of earthly blessings to my soul, 
 
 If sympatliy of love unite our thoughts. 
 
 Q. Mar. Great king of England, and my gra- 
 cious lord; 
 The mutual conference that my mind hath had — 
 Hy day. by ni2;ht, waking, and in my dreams; 
 In courtly company, or at my beads — 
 With you, mine aldcr-liefost' sovereign, 
 Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
 With ruder terms; such as my wit atlbrds, 
 And over-joy of heart doth mniister. 
 
 A'. Hen. Her sight did ravish: but. her grace in 
 speech. 
 Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty. 
 Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeping joys; 
 Such is the fulness of my heart's content. — 
 Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love. 
 
 All. Long live queen Margaret, England's hap- 
 ]>iness! 
 
 Q. Mar. We thank you alL [Flowuih. 
 
 Suf. My lord protector, so it please your grace, 
 Here are the articles of contracted peace. 
 Between our sovereign and the French king Charles, 
 For eighteen months, concluded by consent. 
 
 * Beloved above all thiugs. 
 
 407 
 
408 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 [Act. I. 
 
 GIo. [Recid^.'l Imprimis, It Ucv^recd^hetween the 
 French kinf^, Char/es, and WiUiam de la Poi)!e, 
 mftrqitess nf Suffolk, ambassa ii>r jor Henri/, king 
 of En^knitiy — iliat the sai'i He urtj shall esjjiiu.-^e the 
 Lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier, king of 
 Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem ; and cnnoi her 
 queen (f England, ere the thirtieth of May next 
 
 ensuing. Item, — That the duchy <>J Anjtni, and 
 
 the county of Maine, shall be released and diilivcred 
 io the king, her fattier 
 
 A'. Hen. Unclej how nowl 
 
 Glo. Pardon me, gracious lord; 
 
 Some suddrn qualm hath struck me at the heart, 
 And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further. 
 
 A"". Hen. Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on. 
 
 Car. Item, — // Is furt tier agreed between them, — 
 iliat ttic duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be re- 
 leased and delivered, over to the king, her father ; 
 and she sent over of the king nf England's own 
 proper cost and charges, without having dowry. 
 
 K. Hen. They please us well. — Lord marquess, 
 kneel down ; 
 We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, 
 And y;irt thee with the sword. — 
 Cousin of York, we here discharge your grace 
 From being regent in the parts of France, 
 Till term of eighteen months be full expir'd, — 
 Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, and 
 
 Buckingham, 
 Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick; 
 We thank j'ou all lor this great tiwor done, 
 In entertainment to my princely queen. 
 Come, let us in, and witli all speed provide 
 To see her coronation be perform'd. 
 
 Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk. 
 
 Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, 
 To you duke Humphrey must unload his grief, 
 Your grief, (he common grief of all the land. 
 What! did my brother Henry spend his youth 
 Ui-i^ valor, coin, and people in Ihe wars ] 
 Did he so oiten lodge in open held. 
 In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat, 
 To conquer France, his true inheritance] 
 And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, 
 To keep by policy what Henry goti 
 Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, 
 Bi'avc York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, 
 Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy I 
 Or kath my uncle Beaufort, and myself. 
 With all the learned council of the realm, 
 Studied so long, sat in the council-house. 
 Early and late, debating to and fro 
 How France and Frenchmen might be kept in 
 
 awe ] 
 And hath 1ms highness in his infancy 
 Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes? 
 And shall these labors, and these honors, die ? 
 Shall Henry's conquest, Bcdlbrd's vigilance, 
 Y'our deeds of war. and all our counsel, die ? 
 O peers of England, sliameful is this league! 
 Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame: 
 Blotting your names from books of memory: 
 Razing the characters of your renown; 
 Deliicing monuments of conquer'd France; 
 Undoing all, as all had never been! 
 
 Car. Nephew, what means this passionate dis- 
 course ] 
 This peroration with such circumstance T* 
 For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still, 
 
 Glo. Ay% uncle, we will keep it, if we can; 
 But now it is impossible we should : 
 Suilblk. the new-made duke that rules the roast, 
 Hat!i given the duchies of Anjou and Maine. 
 Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style 
 Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. 
 
 Sal. Now, by the death of him that died for all. 
 These counties were tlie keys of Normandj': — 
 But vvherelbre weeps Warwick, my vahant son 1 
 
 ll'ar. For grief, (hat they are past recovery: 
 For, were there hope to conquer them again^ 
 My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no 
 
 tears. 
 Anjou and Maine, myself did win them both; 
 Tliose provinces these arms of mine did conquer: 
 And are the cities that I got with wounds, 
 Deliver'd up again with peaceful words] 
 JVIort Dieu ! 
 
 York. For Suffiilk's duke— may he he sufTocate 
 
 ^'J'hi-f ppfocb, crowded ivjih so many circumstances of 
 aggravaliun. 
 
 That dims the honor of this warlike isle .' 
 France should have torn and rent my very heart, 
 Before I would have yielded to this league. 
 I never read but England's kings have had 
 Large sums of gold, and dowTies, with tJieir wives: 
 And our king Henry gives away his own, 
 To match with her that brings no vantages. 
 
 Gfo. A proper jest,'and never heard before. 
 That Suffolk should demand a whole lilleenlh, 
 For cost and cliarges in transporting her! 
 She should have staid in France, and starv'd in 
 
 France, 
 Before 
 
 Car. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot: 
 It was the pleasure of my lord the king. 
 
 Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind; 
 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislilie. 
 But 'tis my presence that doth trouble you. 
 Rancor will out: Proud prelate, in thy' lace 
 I see thy fury : if I lonjrer stay. 
 We shall begin our ancient bickerings.'^ 
 Lordings. farewell; and say, when I am gone, 
 I prophesied — France will be lost ere long. [Exit* 
 
 Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage. 
 'Tis known to you, he is mine enemy: 
 Nay, more, an enemy unto you all : 
 And no great friend, I fear me, to the king. 
 Consider, lords, he is the next of blood. 
 And heir apparent to the EngHsh crown; 
 Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, 
 And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west. 
 There's reason he should be displeas'd at it. 
 Look to it, lords ! let not his smoothing words 
 Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect. 
 What though the common people favor iiim. 
 Calling him — Humphrey, the ^ood di/ke of Gloster; 
 Clapping their hands, aiid crying with loud voice— 
 Je.tu maintain your i-oi.-al tfccUence! 
 With — God preserve the gi'od duke Humphrey.' 
 I fear me, lords, for all tljis llattoring gloss. 
 He will be found a dangerous protector. 
 
 Buck. Why should he then protect our sovereign, 
 He being of age to govern of himself] 
 Cousin of Somerset, join you with me. 
 And all together— with the duke of Sutfolk,— 
 We'll quickly hoise duke Humphrey from his seat. 
 
 Car. This weighty business will not brook delay; 
 I'll to the duke of SutTolk presently. [Ex'if. 
 
 Som.Cousinof Buckingham, though Humphrey's 
 pride. 
 And greatness of his place, be grief to us. 
 Yet let us watcu the haughty cardinal; 
 His insolence is more intolerable 
 Than all the princes in the land beside; 
 If Gloster be displaced, he'll be protector. 
 
 Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector, 
 Despite duke Humphrey, or the cardinal. 
 
 Exeunt BiCKiNnnAM and So^^EnsET. 
 
 Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows him. 
 While these do labor for their own prelermcnt, 
 Behoves it us to labor for the realm. 
 I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster 
 Did bear him like a noble gentleman. 
 Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal — 
 More like a soldier, than a man o' the church. 
 As stout, and proud, as he were lord of all,— 
 Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself 
 Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. — ■ 
 Warwick, my son. the comfort of my age ! 
 Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-keeping, 
 Hath won the greatest favor of the commons, 
 Excepting none but good duke Huniphre}'. — 
 And, brother York, thy act-s in Ireland, 
 In bringing them to civil discipline; 
 Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France, 
 When thou wert regent for our sovereign. 
 Have made thee fear'd.and honor'd,of the people: — 
 Join we together, for the public good; 
 In what we can to bridle and suppress 
 The pride of Suflblk, and the cardinal. 
 With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; 
 And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds, 
 While they do tend the profit of the laml. 
 
 War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, 
 And common proht of his country ! 
 
 York. And so says York. for he hath greatest cause. 
 
 Sal. Tlien let's'makc haste away, and look unto 
 the main. 
 
 JVar. Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost; 
 'Sku'iuisbings. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 409 
 
 That Maine, wliich by main force Warwick did 
 
 win. 
 And would hare kept, so Ions as breath did last: 
 Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine; 
 Which I will win from France, or else be slain. 
 
 [Exeunt WAiiivici; and SALiSBfnT. 
 Ycrrk. Anjou and Maine arc sriveii to the French; 
 Paris is lost; the state of Normahdy 
 Stands on a tickle' point, now thcy'are gone: 
 SulTljIk concluded on the articles; 
 The peers agreed ; and Henry was well pleas'd. 
 To change two dukedoms ibra duke's fair daughter. 
 I cannot blame them all ; What is't to them 1 
 'Tis tliine they give away, and not tlieir own. 
 Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their 
 
 pillage. 
 And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, 
 .'iliil revelling, like lords, till all be gone 
 Wlule as the silly owner of the goods 
 Weeps over therii, and wrings bis hapless hands. 
 .«.nd shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, 
 While all is shar'd, and all is borne away; 
 Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own. 
 So Vork must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue. 
 While his ovm lands are bargain'd for, and sold. 
 Mcfhinks, the realms of England, France, and 
 
 Ireland, 
 Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood. 
 As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd. 
 Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.s 
 An>iou and Maine, both given unto the French ! 
 Cold news for me ; for [ had hope of France, 
 Even as I have of fertile England's soil. 
 A day will come, when York shall claim his own; 
 And therefore I will take the Xevil's part. 
 And make a show of love to proud duke Humphrey, 
 And. when I spy advantage, claim the crown, 
 For that s the golden mark I seek to hit : 
 Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp mv right. 
 Nor bold his sceptre in his childish "fist. 
 Nor wear the diadem upon his head. 
 Whose church-like humors fit not for a crown. 
 Then. York, be still awhile, till time do serve: 
 W'atch thou, and wake, when others be a.sleep. 
 To pry into the secrets of the stale; 
 Till Henry, surfeiting in ioys of^ love. 
 With his new bride, and England's dear-bought 
 
 queen. 
 And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars: 
 Then will I raise aloft the milk-white ro.sc, 
 AVith whose sweet smell the air shall he perfumed; 
 .^nd in my standard bear the arms of York, 
 To grapple with the bouse of Lancaster; 
 And. force perlorce, I'll make him yield the crown 
 Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. 
 
 [Ei-U. 
 
 SCENE II.— vl Koom in /he Bulie of Gloster's 
 Ilvuse. 
 
 Enter Gloster and the Dccnrss. 
 
 Di^cA. Why droops mylord, like over-ripen'd corn, 
 Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load 1 
 Wh^■ doth the great duke Hnmphrev knit his brows 
 As Irowning at the favors of the wbrld ? 
 Whv are thine eves fix'd to the sullen earth, 
 Gazing on that w-hich seems to dim thy sight t 
 What seest thou there? king Henry's diadem' 
 Enchas d with all the honors of the world ? 
 If so. gaze on. and grovel on thv face. 
 Until thy head be circled with the same. 
 Put (orlh tby hand, reach at the glorious gold :— 
 v\ hat. IS f too short? I'll lengthen it with mine: 
 And, having both together beav'd it up 
 We II lioth together lift our heads to heaven; 
 And never more abase our sight so low. 
 As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. 
 
 Gin O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord 
 llanish the canker of ambitious thoughts : 
 And may that thought, when I imagine ill 
 Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, 
 He my last breathing in this mortal world' 
 My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. 
 
 • For tic-Wish. 
 
 » y\iA(.^'zor: who.ce lifp w.is tn mnf inne only so long as a 
 '•'■rt.ini firobranrt should l.i,«f. His mother ,\l;liea havin" 
 thrown it into (he fiie, he expired in torment. 
 
 Duck. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll 
 requite it 
 With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. 
 
 Gto. Methought, this stall; mine office-badge in 
 court. 
 Was broke in twain, by whom, I have forgot. 
 But, as 1 think, it was by the cardinal ; 
 And on the pieces of the broken wand 
 Were placed the heads of Edniond duke of Somcfset, 
 And William de la Poole lirst duke of Siitlolk. 
 This was my dream ; what it doth bode, God knows. 
 
 Duch. Tilt, this was nothing but an argument 
 That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove, 
 Shall lose his head lor his presumption. 
 But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke, 
 Alethought, I sat in seat of majesty, 
 In the cathedral church of Westniinster, 
 .\nd in that chair where kings and queens are 
 
 crown 'd ; 
 Where Henry.-and dame Margaret, kncel'd to me, 
 And on my head did .set the diadem. 
 
 Gki. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright: 
 Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor! 
 Art thou not second woman in the realm ; 
 .And tlie protector's %vife, belov'd of him ? 
 Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command. 
 Above the reach or compass of thy thought '! 
 .And wilt thou still be hammering'treacherj'. 
 To tumble down thy husband, and thyself. 
 From top of honor to disgrace's feet? 
 Away from me, and let me hear no more. 
 
 Duch. What, what, my lord ! are you so choleric 
 With Eleanor (or telling but her dream ? 
 Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself. 
 And not be cliecka. 
 
 Gto. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord protector, 'tis his highness' plea- 
 sure. 
 You do prepare to ride unto Saint ,A.I ban's. 
 Whereas"; the king and queen do mean to hawk. 
 
 Gin. I go.— Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us ? 
 
 Duch. Yes, good my lord. I'll follow presently. 
 Exeunt (Jloster a«rf Messenger. 
 Follow I must, I cannot go before. 
 While Glo.sler bears this base and humble mind. 
 Were I a man, a duke, and ne.vt of blood, 
 1 would remove these tedious stumhiing-blocks. 
 And smooth my way upon their headless necks: 
 And, being a woman, I would not be slack 
 To play my jvirt in tiirtune's pageant. 
 Where are you there ? sir John !' Iiav, fear not, man, 
 We are alone ; here's none but thee, and I. 
 
 Enter IIl'jie. 
 
 Hume. .lesu preserve your royal majesty! 
 
 Ducli. What sav'st thoii. majesty ! I am but "race. 
 
 Hume. But, by the grace of tied, and Hume's 
 advice. 
 Your grace's title shall be multiplied. 
 
 Such. What .say'st thou, man ? hast thou as yet 
 conlerr d 
 With Margery .Tourdain, the cunning witch ; 
 And Roger Bolingbroke. the conjurer! 
 And will they undertake to do lue good? 
 
 Hume. This they have promised,— to show your 
 highness 
 A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground. 
 That shall make an.swer to such questions. 
 As by your grace shall be propounded him. 
 
 Duch. It isenou.gh; I'll think upon the questions: 
 When irom Saint Alban's %ve do make return. 
 We 11 .see these things etli-cted to the full. 
 Here, Huiue, take Ihis reward; make merry, man, 
 With thy conledcrates in this weighty cause. 
 
 ,, , [Exit DrcHESB. 
 
 Hu7ne. Hume must make merry with theduchess' 
 gold ; 
 Marry,aiid shall. But how now, sir John Hume I 
 Seal up your lips, and give no words but— mum ! 
 The business askelh silent secrecy. 
 Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch : 
 Gold cannot come amiss, were .she a devil. 
 Yet have I gold. Hies from another coast : 
 I dare not say from the rich cardinal, 
 And from the great and new-made duke of Suffolk; 
 1 et I do find it so : lor, to be plain. 
 They, kmowing dame Eleanor's aspiring humor, 
 « Where. ' A title frerjuently bestowed on the clergy. 
 
410 
 
 SECOND PAKT OF 
 
 Act L 
 
 Have hired me to undermine the duchess, 
 And buz these conjurations in ]ier brain. 
 They say, a crafty knave does need no broker; 
 Yet am j Sullblkand the cardinal's broker; 
 Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near 
 To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. 
 Well, so it stands ; And thus, I fear, at last, 
 Hume's knavery will he the duchess' wreck; 
 And her atfainture will be Humphrey's fall: 
 Sorts iiow it will, 1 sliail have gold for all. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE HI.— ^ Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Peter, and others, with Petitions. 
 
 1 pet. My masters, let's stand close ; my lord 
 protector will come this way by-and-by, and then 
 we may deliver our supplications in the quill.9 
 
 2 Pet. Marry, tiie lord protect him, for he's a 
 good man ! Jesu bless Iiim ! 
 
 Enter Suffolk, and Queen Margaret, 
 
 1 Pet. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the queen 
 wilh him : I'll be the first, sure. 
 
 2 Pet. Come back, fool ; this is the duke of 
 Sulfolk, and not my lord protector. 
 
 Huf, How now, fellow f wouldst any thing with 
 me1 
 
 1 Pet. I pray my lord, pardon me ! I took yc for 
 my lord protector. 
 
 Q. Mar. [Reading the superscription.] To -nw 
 lord protector .' are your supplications to his lord- 
 sliip ] Let me see tliem : What is thine ? 
 
 1 Pet. Mine is, an't please your grace, against 
 John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping 
 my house, and lands, and wile, and all, from me, 
 
 '^iif. Thy wife too? that is some wrong, indeed. — 
 What's yours'? — What's here! [Reads.] Against 
 the Duke of SuJJhtk^fur enclosing the conirfions of 
 Me/ford. — How now, sir knave 1 
 
 2 Pet. Alas, sir, 1 am but a poor petitioner of our 
 wJiole township. 
 
 Peter. [Presenting his Petition.] Against my 
 master, Thomas Horner, lor saynig, That the duke 
 of York was riglitful heir to the crown. 
 
 Q. Mar. What say'st thou? Did the duke of 
 York say. he was rightful heir to tiie crown ! 
 
 Peter. That my master was? No, forsooth: my 
 master said, That he was; and that the king was 
 an usurper. 
 
 SaJ. Who is there? [Enter Servants.!— Take 
 this tellow in, and send tor his master with a pur- 
 suivant presently: — we'll hear more of your matter 
 before the king. [Exeunt Servants with Peteu. 
 
 Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be protected 
 Under the wings of our protector's ^race, 
 Begin your suits anew, and sue to hun. 
 
 [Tears the Petition. 
 Away, base cullions !' SulTolk. let them go. 
 
 All. Come, Id's ho gone. [Exeunt Petitioners. 
 
 Q. Mar. My lord ol'SulIblk. say, is this the guise, 
 Is this the fashion in the court of England? 
 Is this the government of Britian's isk^, 
 And this the royalty of Albion's king \ 
 What, shall king Henry bo a pupil still, 
 Under the surly Gloster's governance \ 
 Am I a queen in title and in style. 
 And must be made a subject to a duke? 
 T tell thee. Poole, when in the city Tours 
 Tliou ran'st a tilt in honor of my love. 
 And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France ; 
 I thought king Henry had resembled thee, 
 In courage, courtship, and proportion: 
 But all his mind is bent to holiness. 
 To number Ave-Maries on his beads; 
 His champions are — the prophets and apostles: 
 His weapons, holy .saw.s- of sacred writ; 
 His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves 
 Are brazen images of canonized saints, 
 I woukl. the college of cardinals 
 Would choose him pope, and carry him to Home, 
 And set the triple crown upon his head; 
 Tiiat were a state tit for his holiness. 
 
 Suf. Madam, he patient: as I was cause 
 Your highness came to England, so will I 
 111 England work your grace's full content. 
 
 Q. Maj: Beside the haught protector, have we 
 Beaufort, 
 
 ■ Happen. 
 
 • With Kre.it exactness anj observanco of form. 
 
 * Scoumirels. a Sayimja. 
 
 The imperious churchman ;Somerset,Buckingliam, 
 And grumbling York: and not the least of these, 
 But can do more in England tlian the king. 
 
 Suf. And he of these that can do most of all, 
 Cannot do more in England tlian the Ncvils: 
 Salisbury, and Warwick, are no simple peers. 
 
 Q. Mar. Not all these lords do vex me half jo 
 much. 
 As that proud dame, the lord protector's "Wife. 
 She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, 
 More like an empress than duke Humphrey's wife; 
 Strangers in court do take her lor the queen: 
 She bears a duke's revenues on iier back, 
 And in her heart she scorns her poverty: 
 Shall 1 not live to be avenged on her? 
 Contemptuous base-boni callat^ as she i.g, 
 She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day, 
 The very train of her worst wearing-gown 
 Was better worth than all my lather's lands, 
 Till Sutfoik gave two dukedoms lor his daughter. 
 
 Suf. Madam, myself have limed a bush for her; 
 And placed a quire of such enticing birds, 
 That she will light to listen to the lays, 
 And never mount to trouble you again. 
 So, let her rest : and, madam, list to me ; 
 For 1 am bold to counsel you in this. 
 Although we fancy not the cardinal. 
 Yet must we join with him, and with the lords, 
 Till we have brought duke Humphrey in disgrace. 
 As lor the duke of York, — tliis late complaint-* 
 Will make but little for his henelit: 
 So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last. 
 And you yourself shall steer the happy helm 
 Enter KixG Henry, York and Somerset con~ 
 
 versing with him ; Duke and Duchess op 
 
 Gloster, Cardinal Beaufort, Buckingham, 
 
 Salisbury, and Warwick. 
 
 A'. lien. For my part, noble lords, I care not 
 which ; Or Somerset, or York, ail's one to me. 
 
 Yf/rA'. If York have ill dcmean'diiimsef fin France, 
 Then let him be denay'd^ the regentshlp. 
 
 Horn. If Somerset be unwortliy ot tiie place, 
 Let York be regent, I will yield to him. 
 
 War. Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no, 
 Dispute nut that; York is the worthier. 
 
 Car. Ambitious Warwick, let tliy betters speak. 
 
 War. Tlie cardinal's not my better in the held. 
 
 Buck. All in this presence, arc tliy betters, War- 
 wick. 
 
 War. Warwick may live to be the best of all. 
 
 Sal. Peace, son ; and show some reason, 
 
 Buckingham, 
 Why Somerset should be preferred in this. 
 
 Q. Mar. Because the king, forsooth, will have it so. 
 
 (Jlo. Madam, the king is old enough himself 
 To give his censure ;<• these arc no women's matters. 
 
 Q. Mar. If he be old enough, what needs your 
 grace 
 To be protector of his excellence? 
 
 Gin. I\Iadam, I am protector of the realm ; 
 And, at his plea-sure, will resign my place. 
 
 Suf. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. 
 Since thou wert king, (as who is king but thou ?) 
 The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck: 
 The dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ; 
 And all the peers and nobles ol the realm 
 Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. 
 
 Car. The commons hast tliou lack'a, the 
 clergy's bags 
 Arc lank and lean with thy extortions. 
 
 Sofu. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy w'lie's 
 attire. 
 Have cost a mass of public treasury. 
 
 Buck. Thy cruelty in execution, 
 Upon otli'uders, hath exceeded law. 
 And lelt thee to the mercy of the law. 
 
 Q.Mflr. Thy sale ofotliccs.;:nd towns in France, — 
 If they were known, as the .suspect is great. — 
 Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. 
 
 [Exit Gloster. The Queen drops' her fan. 
 Give me my fan: what, minion ! can you not? 
 
 [Gives the DticnEss a box on the ear, 
 I cry you mercy, madam ; Was it you? 
 
 Uuch. Was't I ? >ea, I it was, proud f rench* 
 woman ! 
 
 3 Drab, trull. 
 
 « /. c. The complaint of Peter, the aniiorer's man, 
 against bis master. » Deoied. 
 
 6 Censure hei-e means simple judgment or opinioni 
 
Scene IV. '} 
 
 KING HENRY YI. 
 
 411 
 
 Could I come near your beauty with niv nails, 
 I'd set my ten commandments in your i'ace.' 
 K.Ilcn. Sweet aunt, be quiet: 'twas against her 
 
 will. 
 Duck. Against her will! Good king, look to't 
 in time ; 
 She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby : 
 Though in this place most master wear no breeches, 
 She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveiiged. 
 
 Bucl!. Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, 
 Knf\ listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds: 
 SheV tickled now; her fume can need no spurs, 
 Slie'll gallop last enough to her destruction. 
 
 [Exit BlCKINGHAM. 
 Re-enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Now, lords, my choler being over-blown, 
 With walking once about the quadrangle, 
 I come to talk of commonwealth alliiirs. 
 As for your spiteful (iilsc objections. 
 Prove them, and I lie open to the law : 
 But God in mercy so deal with my soul. 
 As I in duty love my king and country ! 
 But, to the matter that wc have in hand : — 
 I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man 
 To be your regent in the realm of France. 
 
 Suf. Bctbre we make election, give me leave 
 To show some reason, of no little force, 
 That York is most unmeet of any man. 
 
 York. I'll tell thee, Sullblk, why I am unmeet 
 First, for I cannot Hatter thee in pride : 
 Next, if I be appointed lor the place. 
 My lord of Somerset will keep inc here. 
 Without discharge, money, or furniture. 
 Till France be won into the dauphin's hands. 
 Last tune, I danced attendance on his will. 
 Till Paris was besieg'd, famisli'd, and lost. 
 
 iVar. That I can witness, and a fouler fact 
 Did never traitor in the land commit. 
 
 HuJ'. Peace, head-strong Warwick ! 
 
 nar. Image of pride, why should I hold my 
 peace 1 
 
 Enter Servants of Suffolk, bringii'S in Horner 
 and Peter. 
 
 Suf. Because here is a man accus'd of treason: 
 Pray God the duke of York excuse himself! 
 
 1 wA\ Doth any one accuse York lor a traitor? 
 
 A'. Jicn. What mean'st thou, Sullblk ! tell me: 
 What are these 1 
 
 Si'/. Please it your luajestv. this is the man 
 That doth accuse his muster of liii;h treason; 
 His words were these;— lliat Ricliai d, duke of York, 
 Was rightful heir unto the English crown ; 
 And that your majesty was aii'usurper. 
 
 A". Hen. Say, man, were these thy words? 
 
 ]{or. An'tsliall jilease your majesty, I never said 
 nor thought any such matter: God is my witness, 
 I am falsely accused by the villain. 
 
 Pet. By these ten bones, my lords, [Holding up 
 hi.'< hamh,] he did .speak them to ine in the garret 
 one night, as we were scouring my lord of Y'ork's 
 armor. 
 ^ Yurix: Base dunghill villain, and mechanical, 
 I II have thy head tor this thy traitor's speech:— 
 I ili) beseech your royal majesty. 
 Let him have all the rigor of the law. 
 
 Jl'ir. Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the 
 words. My accuser is my prentice: and when I 
 did correct him tinr his fault the other day, he did 
 vow upon his knees he would be even with me : I 
 have goal witness of this; therefore,! beseech your 
 majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a 
 villain s accusation. 
 
 A'. Hen. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law? 
 
 Olo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge;— 
 Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, 
 Because in York this breeds suspicion : 
 And let these have a day appointed lliera 
 For sinrfe combat in convenient place ; 
 For he Jiath witness of his servant's malice: 
 This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's doom. 
 
 A. ]Jen. Then be it so. My lord of Somerset, 
 We make your grace lord regent o'er the French. 
 
 So/ii. 1 huiiibiv lliank your royal majesty. 
 
 Hin: And I accept the combat willingly. 
 
 Pel. Alas, my lord. I cannot tight; ibr God's 
 STiic, pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth 
 ' The marks of her fingers and thumbs. 
 
 against me. Lord, have mercy upon me ! I shall 
 never be able to tight a blow : O Lord, my heart ! 
 
 Glo. Sirrah, or you must tight, or else be haug'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Away with them to prison, and the day 
 Of combat shall be the last of the next month.— 
 Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lY.—The Duke of Gloster's Garden. 
 Enter Makgery Joprdain, HroiE, Southwell, and 
 
 BOLINGBROKE. 
 
 Hume. Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell 
 you. expects perlbrmance of your promises. 
 
 Boling. Master Hume, we are therelbre pro- 
 vided : Will her ladyship behold and hear our 
 exorcisms?'* 
 
 Hume. Ay; What else? fear j-ou not her courage. 
 
 Bating. I have heard her reported to be a woman 
 of an invincible spirit: But it shall be convenient, 
 master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be 
 busy below ; and so. 1 pray you, go, in God's name, 
 and leave us. [Exit Hume.] Mother Jourdain, be 
 you prostrate, and grovel on the earth :— John 
 Southwell, read you ; and let us to our work. 
 
 Enter DuuHESS, above. 
 Buck. Well said, my masters ; and welcome all. 
 To this gear;' the sooner the better. 
 Buiing. Patience, good lady ; wizards know their 
 times : 
 Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night. 
 The time of night when Troy was set on tiVe; 
 The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs' 
 
 howl. 
 And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves. 
 That time best lit-s the work Vie have in hand. 
 Madam, sit you, and fear not ; whom we raise, 
 We will make fast within a hallow 'd verge. 
 
 [Here thry perform the ceremonies appertaining, 
 anil Nuilxc lite circle; BoLixgbkokk, nr Souxii- 
 WEi.i,, rcaih Conjuro te, &c. It thnnilers and 
 lighten.':, terribly; then ttie Spirit ;-ist7/».] 
 tSynr. Adsum. 
 M. Jourd. Asmath, 
 By the eternal God, whose name and power 
 Tliou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask; 
 For, till thou speak, thou shall not pass from hence. 
 Spir. Ask what thou wilt :— That I had said and 
 
 done ! 
 Boling. First, of the King. What .ihnll of him 
 become.! [Headline out ol a pa|)er. 
 
 S/jir. The duke yet lives that Ileiirv shall depose ; 
 But him outlive, and die a violent death. 
 
 [.■U the Spirit speaks, Soutuwell toritcs the 
 answer. 
 Boling. ll'hatfnte awaits the duke of Rufolk ? 
 Spir. By water shall he die, and take his'eiid. 
 Boling. What .shall befall the duke of Somerset ? 
 Spir. Let him shun castles ; 
 Saler shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
 Than where castles mounted stand. 
 Have done ! for more I hardly can endure. 
 Boling. Descend to darkness, and the burning 
 lake : 
 False fiend, avoid ! 
 
 [Thunder and lightning. Spirit descends. 
 
 Enter York and BiTKixunAM, liastily, with their 
 Guards, ami others. 
 
 York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their 
 trash. 
 Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch. — 
 What, madam, are you there ? the king and com- 
 monweal 
 Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains: 
 My lord protector will, I doubt it not. 
 See you well guerdon'd- lor these good deserts. 
 
 Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's king, 
 Injurious duke , that threat'st where is no cause. 
 Buck. True, madam, none at aU. What call 
 you this ? [ Showing her ilie papers. 
 
 Away with them ; let them he clapp'd up close. 
 And keptasunih^r:— You, madam, shall with us:— 
 Stalibrd, take her to thee. — 
 
 Exit DucHESs/wni above, 
 
 • I!y exr.rciso, fhiikspeare invariabU means to iniso 
 spirits, anil mjt to l.iy them. » Matter or business. 
 
 ' Wiitcli-dogs. » Rewarded. 
 
412 
 
 SECOND PART OP 
 
 [Act. n. 
 
 We'll see 1 our trinkets here all forth-coming : 
 All— Away! 
 
 [Exeunt Guards, with Southwell, Bolixg- 
 BROKE, 4-c- 
 York. Lord Buckingham, mcthniks, you watch'd 
 her well : 
 A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon ! 
 Now pray, my lord, let's sec the devil's writ. 
 What have we liere ! [Reads. 
 
 T/ie duke yet lives, tliat Henry stintl depose: 
 But tiiiii outlive, and die a violent diuth. 
 Why, this is just, 
 
 Aio te, jEacida, Romanos viticerc posse. 
 Weil, to the rest: 
 
 Tell me, what fate cnvaits Ihr duke of Suffolk.' 
 By tvuftr .\liull hi: die, iiml lake hi.s end. — 
 H'luft shall Oeli:le the duke of Somerset ? 
 Let tilut shun castles ; 
 Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
 
 Thayi where castles mounted stand. 
 
 Come, come, my lords ; 
 
 These oracles are liardily attain'd, 
 
 And hardly understood. 
 
 The king is now in pro.^ress towards Saint Alban's, 
 
 Witli him, the husband of this lovely lady: 
 
 Thither so these news, as fast as horse can carrj 
 
 them ; 
 A sorry brcakiast for my lord protector. 
 Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my U.rt. 
 
 of York, 
 To be the post, in hope of his reward, 
 
 York. At your pleasure, my good lord. — Who'a 
 within there, ho ! 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick, 
 To sup with me to-morrow night. — Away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE I.— Saint Alban's. 
 
 Kilter King Henry. Qlten Harcarkt. Gi.ns- 
 TKR, Cauoinal, and Suffolk, with Falconers, 
 hollaing. 
 
 Q. Mar. Believe me, lords,forflyinf;:at the brook,^ 
 I saw not better sport tliese seven years' day : 
 Yet, by 5'our leave, the wind was very high ; 
 Ana, ten to one, old Joan had not ^one out. 
 
 A', lien' But what a point, my lord, your falcon 
 made, 
 And what a pitch she flew above the rest!^ 
 To see how (Jod ni all Ins creatures works! 
 Yea, man and birds, are fanr' ol'chm[)in^ higli« 
 
 iiuf. No marvel, an it like your majesty, 
 My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ; 
 They know their master loves to be aloft, 
 And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. 
 
 Gto. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind 
 That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 
 
 Car. I thought as much; he'd be above the 
 clouds. 
 
 Glo, Ay, my lord cardinal; how thinlt you by 
 that'? 
 Were It not good, your grace could fly to heaven 1 
 
 A"", lien. The treasury oi' everlasting joy ! 
 
 Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and 
 thoughts 
 Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; 
 pernicious protector, dangerous peer, 
 Tiiat smnoth'st tt so with king and commonweal \ 
 
 Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown 
 peremptory] 
 Tantsene animvi ccelesfibus irx? 
 Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice; 
 Witli sucli holiness can you do iti 
 
 S»y. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes 
 So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. 
 
 Glo. As who, my lord ! 
 
 ^i(f- Why. as you, my lord ; 
 
 An't like your lordly lord-protectorship. 
 
 Glo. Why, Sutlblk, England knows thine inso- 
 lence. 
 
 Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Glostcr. 
 
 A'. Hen. I pr'yfhee. peace, 
 
 Oood queen ; and whet not on these furious peers, 
 Eor blessed are the peacemakers on earth. 
 
 Car. Let me be blessed Ibr the peace I make, 
 Against thisproud protector witli my sword ! 
 
 Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to 
 that ! [Asi(k io the Cardinal. 
 
 Car. I\larry, when thou dar'st. [Aside. 
 
 Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter, 
 In thine own person answer thy abuse. [Asi'le. 
 
 Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if thou 
 dar'st, 
 This evening on the east side of the grove. [Aside. 
 
 K. Heji^How now, my lords I 
 
 Car. Believe me, cousin Gloslcr, 
 
 Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, 
 We had had more sport — Coine with thy two- 
 hand sword. [Aside to Glusteu. 
 » The falconer's term for hnwkiiig at watur-lowl. 
 « foud. 
 
 Glo. True, uncle. 
 
 Car. Areyouadvis'd? — the castside of the grovel 
 
 Glo. Cardinal, I am with you. [Asvlc. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, how now, uncle Glosterl 
 
 Glo. Talking of hawking; nothingelse.my lord. — 
 Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your 
 
 crown for this. 
 Or all my fenced phall fail. [Aside. 
 
 Car, Medice,teipsum; 
 Protector, see to't well, protect yourself. [Aside. 
 
 K. Hen. The winds grow hign ; so do your sto- 
 machs, lords. 
 How irksome is this music to my heart ! 
 When such strings jar, wJiat hope of hamiony'? 
 I pray, my lords,^let me compound tins strife. 
 Enter an Inhabitant of Saint Alban's, c/'i/ing, 
 A Miracle ! 
 
 Gh, What means this noise 1 
 Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? 
 
 Inhab. A miracle ! a miracie ! 
 
 Nf//. Come to tlie king, and \c\i him what miracle. 
 
 Inhab. Forsooth, a bUnd man at Saint Alban's 
 shrine. 
 Within this half hour, hath rcceiv'd his sight; 
 A man, that ne'er saw in his iife belbre. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd ! that to believing 
 souls 
 Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair 
 Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban's, and his Breth' 
 
 ren ; and ^\yi.\^Qo\,b(rrne between twoPei-sansin a 
 
 Chair ; his Wile, and a great multitude following. 
 
 Car. Here come the touTismen on procession, 
 To present your highness with the man. 
 
 A'. Hen. Great is his comlbrt m this earthly vale, 
 Although by liis sight his sin be multiplied. 
 
 Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the 
 king. 
 His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. 
 
 A', /ie/?. Good ti?llow. tell us here tlie circumstance, 
 That we for thee may glorify the Lord. 
 What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd ? 
 
 Simp. Born bhnd, an't please your grace. 
 
 IViJe. Ay, indeed was he. 
 
 Svf. What woman is thisi 
 
 H^ife. His wife, an't like your worship. 
 
 Glo. Hadsl thou been ins mother, thou couldst 
 have better told. 
 
 K. Hen. Where wert thou born ? 
 
 Ni/«;». At Berwick in the n()rtii,airt like your grace. 
 
 K. hen. Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been 
 great to thee: 
 Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass. 
 But still remember what the Lord halli done, 
 
 Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st tliou here 
 by cliance. 
 Or of devotion, to this holy shrine? 
 
 Simp. God knows, of puic devution; being call'd 
 A liundred times, and olt'ner. in my sleep 
 i!y guod Saint Alban; who said,— .S'/////u7;j', eome ; 
 C'anif, <-lJ't'r at mi/ shrine, and I will help thee. 
 
 IVifi'. Most true, Ibrsooth; and many time and oft 
 Blystlf have heard a voice to call him so. 
 • Fence is the art of diffuce. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 413 
 
 Car. Wiiat, art thou lame 1 
 
 Sin/p. Ay, God Almighty help mc ! 
 
 Suf. How cam'st thou so ? 
 
 Simp. A fall off a tree. 
 
 IViJe. A plum-tree, master. 
 
 Gio. How long hast thou been blind 1 
 
 Sir/ip. 0, born so. master. 
 
 Gin. What, and wouldst climb a tree ? 
 
 Simp. But Ihat in all my life, when I was a youth. 
 
 IViJe. Too true; and bought his climbing very 
 dear. 
 
 Glo. 'Ma.^s, thon lovMst plums well, that wouldst 
 venture so. 
 
 Simp. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some 
 damsons. 
 And made me climb, with danger of my life. 
 
 Glo. A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve. — 
 Let me sec thine eyes : — wink now ; — now open 
 
 them ; 
 111 my opinion yet thou seest not well. 
 
 Simp. Yes, master, clear as day; 1 thank God, 
 and Saint Alban. 
 
 Glo. Say'stthoumeso 1 Whatcoloristhiscloakof] 
 
 Simp. Red, master; red as blood. 
 
 Glo. WJiy, tliat's well said : What color is my 
 gown of ! 
 
 Simp. Bhick, forsooth; coal-black, as jet. 
 
 K lleji. Why then, tiiou know'st what color jet 
 is of? 
 
 S}if. And yet. I think, jet did he never see. 
 
 G///. But cloaks and gowns, before thisday.a many. 
 
 Wife. Never, before this day. in all his life. 
 
 Gbi, Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, I know not. 
 
 Glo. Wliat's his name \ 
 
 Simp. I know not. 
 
 Glo. Nor his l 
 
 Simp. No, indeed, master. 
 
 Glo. What's thine own name? 
 
 Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, 
 master. 
 
 Glo. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest 
 knave 
 In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind. 
 Thou mightstasweilliaveknown our names, as thus 
 To name th^ several colors we do wear. 
 Sigh*, may distinginsh of colors; but suddenly 
 
 To noniinate thcin all's impossible. 
 
 My lords, saint Alban here hath done a miracle; 
 And would ye not think that cunning to be great 
 That could restore this cripple to his legs 1 
 
 Simp. O, master, that you could ! 
 
 Glo. My masters of saint Alban's. have you not 
 beadles in your town, and things called whips 1 
 
 Maij. Yes, my lord, it' it please your grace. 
 
 Glo. Then send for one presently. 
 
 May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadlehither straight. 
 l^Ea'U an Attendant. 
 
 Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by-and-by. [A 
 stool brought out.'] Now, sirrah, if you mean to 
 eave yourself from whipping, leap me over this 
 stool and run away. 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, I am notable to stand alone: 
 You go about to torture me in vain. 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, ivifh the Beadle. 
 
 Glo. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. 
 Sirrah Beadle, whip him till he leap over that 
 same stool. 
 
 Bead. I will, my lord. — Come on, sirrah ; otf with 
 your doublet quickly. 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not 
 abl; to stand. 
 
 [Jfltr the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps 
 over the stool, and runs awa>/ ; and the Peo- 
 
 K. 
 
 '}/e follmr. and «■?/, A Miracle ! 
 ' //. C ' 
 long? 
 
 pie 
 Hen 
 
 Cud, seest tliou this, and bear'st so 
 
 Q. Mar. It made me laugh' to see the villain 
 run. 
 
 Glo. Follow the knave ; and take this drab away. 
 
 l-Vife. Alas, sir. we did it tor pure need. 
 
 Glo. Let them be whipped through every market 
 
 (own, till they come to Berwick,whence they came. 
 
 [E.veunt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, ^-c. 
 
 Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day. 
 
 Svf. True ; made the lame to leap, and fly away. 
 
 Glv. But you have done more miracles than I ; 
 T'ou made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to tlj'. 
 
 Enter Buckisuiiam. 
 
 A'. Hen. What tidings with our cousin Bucking- 
 ham ? 
 
 Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. 
 A sort*> of naughty persons lewdly" bent, — 
 Under the countenance and conii?deracy 
 Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, 
 The ring-leader and head of all this rout, — 
 Have practis'd dangerously against your state. 
 Dealing with witeiies; and w'ith conjurers : 
 Whom we have apprehended in the fact; 
 Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, 
 Demanding of king Hi-nry's life and death, 
 And other of your highness' privy council. 
 As more at large your grace shall understand. 
 
 Car. And so, my lord protector, by this means 
 Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. 
 This news, I tlnnk, hath turn'd your weapon's edge ; 
 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. 
 
 [AyiUe to (Jluster. 
 
 Glo. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my 
 heart ! 
 Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers: 
 And, vanquisJi'd as I am, I yield to thee, 
 Or to the meanest groom. 
 
 K. Hen. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked 
 ones ; 
 Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Gloster,seehere the taintureof thy nest; 
 And, look, thyself be faultless, tliou wert best. 
 
 Glo. Madam, lor myself. To heaven 1 do appeal, 
 How I have lov'd my king, and commonweal, 
 And, for my wife, I know not how it stands; 
 Sorry I am to hear what I have heard: 
 Noble she is ; but if she have forgot 
 Honor, and virtue, and convers'd with such 
 As, like to pitch, detile nobility, 
 I banish her my bed and company 
 And give her. as a prey, to law, and shame, 
 Tliat liath dishonored Glostor's honest name. 
 
 A'. //tn. Wei I. lor this night, we will rei>ose us here; 
 To-morrow, toward London, back again, 
 To look into this business thoroughly, 
 And call tiiese tbul olli'uders to tiieir answers; 
 And poise' the cause in justice' equal scales, 
 W'husc beam stands sure, whose rightful cause 
 prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IL 
 
 -London. The Duke of York's 
 Garden. 
 
 Enter York, Salishury, and Warwick. 
 
 York. Now, my good lords of Salisbury and 
 Warwick, 
 Our simple supper ended, give me leave, 
 In this close walk, to satisly myself, 
 In craving your opmion of my title. 
 Which is infallible to England's crown. 
 
 Sal. My lord, I long to Jicar it at full. 
 
 War. Sweet York, begin : and if thy claim be good, 
 The Nevils are thy subjects to command 
 
 York. Then thus:— 
 Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: 
 The first, Edward the Black l*ri nee, prince ol Wales; 
 Tlie second. William of llatiield ; and the third, 
 Lionel, duke of Clarence; next to whom. 
 Was .Tu!m of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster: 
 The filth was Edmund Langley, duke of York; 
 The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of 
 
 Gloster; 
 William of Windsor was the seventh and last. 
 Edward, the Black Prince, died before his father; 
 And left behind him Richard, liis only son, 
 Who,alter Edward the Third's death,reign'd as king; 
 Till Henry liolinghroke, duke oiLancaster, 
 The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, 
 Ci'owu'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, 
 Seiz'd on the realm; dejios'd the rightful king; 
 Sent his poor queen to France, Irom whence she 
 
 came, 
 And him to Pomfret ; where, as all you know, 
 Harmless Richard was murdeiM traitorously. 
 
 War. Father, the duke hath told the truth; 
 Thus got the house of Lancaster the crc*n. 
 
 York. Which now they hold by Ibrce, and not 
 by right ; 
 For Richard, the first son s heir, being dead, 
 The issue of the next son should have reign'd. 
 
 Sal. But WiUiam of Hatfield died without an heir, 
 
 8 A company. i \Vickedly. s ■Wt-i^h. 
 
414 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IL 
 
 York. The third son, duke of Clarence, (from 
 whose line 
 I claim the crown.) had issue — Philippe, a dnughter, 
 Who married Kdmujid Mortimer, carl oJ March: 
 KUmund iiad issue — Ro^cr, earl of March : 
 Roi;er Jiad issue — Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. 
 
 Sal. This Edmund, in the rei^n of Boliugbroke, 
 As I have read, laid claim unto the crown ; 
 And, but for Owen Glendowcr, had been king, 
 Who kept him in captivity till he died. 
 But, to the rest. 
 
 York. His eldest sister, Anne, 
 
 My mother, Ijeing heir unto the crown. 
 Married Richard, earl of Cambridge; who was son 
 To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's lUth son. 
 By her I claim the kint^dom; she was heir 
 To Roger, carl of March ; who was the son 
 Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Piiilippc, 
 Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence: 
 So, if tlie issue of the elder son 
 Succeed before the younger, 1 am king. 
 
 War. What plain proceedings arc more plain 
 than this ] 
 Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, 
 The Jburth son ; York claims it I'rom the tJurd. 
 Till Lionel's issue liiiis, his should not reign: 
 It liiils n-.t yet ; but flourishes in thee, 
 And ni thy suns, tair sHps of such a slock. 
 Then, fatlier Salisbury, kneel we both tuf^ether; 
 And in this private plot,^ be we llic first, 
 That shall salute our rightful sovereign 
 With honor of his birtliright to the crt)wn. 
 
 Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, Eng- 
 land's king ! 
 
 York. We thank you, lords. But I am not your 
 king 
 Till I be crow^n'd ; and that my sword be stain'd 
 With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster. 
 And lliat's not suddenly to be perlorm'd ; 
 But with advice and siient tipcrccy. 
 Do ;ou, as I do, in these datig^'rous days, 
 Wink at the duke of Sull(tlk's insolence, 
 At Heautbrl's pride, at Somerset's ambition, 
 At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, 
 Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock. 
 That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey : 
 'Tis that they seek: and they, in seeking tJiat, 
 Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. 
 
 Hal. My lord, break we oil'; we laiow your mind 
 at full. 
 
 War. My heart assures me, that the earl of 
 Warwick 
 Shall one day make the duke of York a king. 
 
 Y'n'k. And Nevil, this I do ass'ire niyseli, — 
 Richard shall live to make tfie earl of Warwick 
 The greatest man in England, but the king. 
 
 [Ji^xeitnt. 
 
 SCENE Ul.—A Hall rf Justice, 
 
 Trjimpcts sounded. Enter King Henrv, Queex 
 
 I\Iar(;aret, Gloster, York. Suffolk, ayid Salis- 
 Li. uy; the Duchess of Glosthr, Maiicery Juvk- 
 DA!N, SuUTHWELL, HuAiE, auU BonxuBuoKE, under 
 guard. 
 
 K. Hen. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobliam, 
 Gloster's wife: 
 In sight of God and u.i, your guilt is great; 
 Receive the sentence of the law for sins 
 Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.— 
 Y'ou lour, from licnce to prison back again ; 
 
 [To JuUUUAiN, Sic. 
 From thence unto the place of execution : 
 The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to aslies, 
 And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. — 
 You, madam, for you are more nobly born, 
 Despoiled of your honor in your life. 
 Shall, afler tlirec days' open penance done, 
 Live in jour country here, in banishment. 
 With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man. 
 Duck. Welcome is banishment, welcome were 
 
 my death. 
 G/fJ.EIcanor,thelaw,thouscest, hath judged thee; 
 I cannot justify whom the law condeinus. — 
 
 [Exeunt the Dicuess, and t/ie other Prison- 
 er.s, guarded. 
 I\Iine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief ; 
 Ah, Humphrey, this dishonor in thine age 
 "> Sc'iai'sterfd spot. 
 
 Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!— 
 1 beseech your majesty, give me leave to go ; 
 Sorrow would' solaee,"and mine age would ease. 
 
 A'. Hen. Staj-, Humphrey duke of Glostci : ere 
 thou go, 
 Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself 
 Protector be ; and God shall be my hope, 
 My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet ; 
 And go in peace, Humphrey ; no less belov'd, 
 Than when thou wcrt protector to thy king. 
 
 Q. Alar. I see no reason why a king of years 
 Should be to be protected like a child. — 
 God and king Henry govern Enghmd's helm: 
 Give up your stafK sir, and the king his realm. 
 
 Gto. My stafl ? — here, noble Henry, is my staff 
 As willingly do I the^ame resign, 
 As e'er thy father Henry made it mine ; 
 AncUeven as willingly at thy feet I leave it, 
 As others would ambitiously receive it. 
 Farewell, good king: When I am dead and gone. 
 May honorable peace attend thy throne! [Exit 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, now is Henry lung, and Marga- 
 ret queen; 
 And Humphrey, duke of Glostcr, scarce himself. 
 That bears so shrewd a main ; two pullsat once,— 
 His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd ciV; 
 Tfiis stalfof honor raught;-^ — There lei it stand, 
 Where it best fits to be^, in Henry's Jiaud. 
 
 Suf. Thus droops this lolly pine, and hangs his 
 sprays ; 
 Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her j-oungest days. 
 
 York. Lords, let him go. — Please it your majesty 
 TJiis is the day appointed for the conihat; 
 And ready are the appellant and defendant, 
 The armorer and his man, to enter the li>:ts, 
 So please your Inghncss to behold the fight. 
 
 Q. Mfl;\ Ay,good my lord ; for purposely therefore 
 Led, I the court, to see this quarrel tried. 
 
 A'. Hen. O' God's name, see the lists and all 
 things fit; 
 Here let them end it, and God defend the right! 
 
 York. I never saw a fellow worse bested,^ 
 Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, 
 The servant of this armorer, my lords. 
 
 Enter, on one side, Horner, ojid tii.s Neighbors, 
 drinking to him so much that hr is druak ; and 
 he enters l>earing Ai.5 staff with a sand-hag faS' 
 tened to if; a drum before tiiai .■ at the of tier side^ 
 Peter, with a drum awl a sinular staj]'; aceoni~ 
 2>anied by Prentices drinking to him. ' 
 
 1 Neigh. Here, neiglibor Horner, I drink to you 
 in a cup of sack; And fearnot, neighbor, you shall 
 do well enough. 
 
 2 Neish. And here, neighbor, licre's a cup of 
 charneco.*' 
 
 3 Neigh. And here's a pot of good double beer, 
 nwiglibor: drink, and fear not your man. 
 
 iio?: Let it come, i'Jaith, and I'll pledge yon all; 
 And a fig for Peter ! 
 
 1 Fren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee ; and be 
 not afraid. 
 
 "2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy mas- 
 ter; fight tor credit" of the prentices. 
 
 Pete?'. I thank you all: drink and pray for mc, 
 I pray you; for, I think, I ha^e taken' uiy last 
 draught in this world. — Here. Robin, an if I die, I 
 give thee my apron ; and, \Vill, Ihou shalt have my 
 liammcr: — and here, Tom, take all the money 
 tliat I have. Lord, bless me; I pray God! for 
 I am never able to deal wilh my master, Jie ha'h 
 learnt so much fence already. 
 
 Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to 
 blows. — Sirrah, what's thy name \ 
 
 Peter. Peter, tbrsooth. 
 
 Sat. Peter! what more t 
 
 Peter. Thump. 
 
 .Sf//.Thuinp! I hen see thou thump thy master weL 
 
 Hor. Masters. I aTn come hither, as it were, upon 
 my man's instigation, lo prove him a knavo. and 
 myself an honest man: and touching the duke of 
 York, — will take my death. I never meant liijn any 
 ill. nor the king, nor the queen: And, Iherefoit?, 
 peter, Iiave at thee with a downright blow, as Jlevis 
 of" Southampton fell upon Ascajxirt. 
 
 Yoi'k. Despatch: — this knave s tongue begins to 
 double. 
 
 > WisTies for. « tJeacliod. 
 
 » lu a worse plight. * A sort of sweet wine. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 415 
 
 Sound trumpets, alarum to thi^ combatants. 
 
 [Atarinii. They ji'j:hl, and Peter strikes 
 dmnn his Master. 
 
 Hnr. Hold, Peter, liold! I confess, I confess 
 treason. [Dies. 
 
 York. Take away his weapon: — Fellow, tliank 
 God, and the f^ood wine in thy master's way. 
 
 Peter. O (iod ! iiave I overcome mine enemies 
 in this presence 1 O Peter, thou hast prevailed in 
 right! 
 
 K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight ; 
 For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt : 
 And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us 
 The truth and innocence of tiiis poor tbllow 
 Which he had thought to have murder'd wrong- 
 fully,— 
 Come, fellov.', follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— .4 Street. 
 Enter Gloster and Servants, in mourning eliiaks. 
 
 Glo. Thus, sometimes, halh the brightest day a 
 cloud; 
 And, after summer, ever more succeeds 
 Darren winter, with his wrathful nijjping cold: 
 So cares and .joys abound as seasons rteet. — 
 Sirs, v/hat's o'clock 1 
 
 Herv. Ten, my lord. 
 
 (Jto. Ten is the hour that was ajipointed me, 
 To watch the coming of my punish'd ducliess: 
 lincath' may she endure the lliiity streets. 
 To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. 
 Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abroolc 
 The abject people, gazing on thy face, 
 Willi envious looks, still laughing at thy shame; 
 That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels. 
 When thou didst ride in triumph through thestreets. 
 Hut, soil! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare 
 My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. 
 
 Enter the DrciiEss of Gloster, in a tvtiife sheet, 
 with papers pinn'd upon her liack. ker feet linre, 
 and a taper burning in her hand; Sir John 
 Stanley, a Sherili; and Olhcers. 
 
 Sirv'. So please your grace, we'll take her from 
 the shcritf. 
 
 Glo. No. stir not, for j-our lives; let her pass by. 
 
 D'jch. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame ? 
 Now thou dost penjince too. Look, how they gaze ! 
 See, how tlie giddy multitude do point, 
 And nod their heads, and throw tlieir eyes on thee ! 
 All, Gloster, hide thee from their hatetul looks; 
 And, ill thy closet pent up, rue my sliame, 
 And ban's t'liinc enemies, both mine and thine. 
 
 6'to. Be patient, gentle Nell; Hirget this grief. 
 
 Bucti. All, Gloster, teach me to lorget myself: 
 For, whilst I think 1 am thy married wife. 
 And thou a prince, protector of this land, 
 Melhinks, I should not thus be led along, 
 Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back; 
 And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice 
 To see my tears, and hear my deep-let' groans. 
 The ruthless Hint doth cut my tender feet: 
 And, when I stiirt, the envious people laugh, 
 And bid nie be advised how I tread. 
 Ah. lluiiiplirey, can I bear this shameful yokel 
 Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world; 
 'ir count them liappy, that enjoy the suni 
 No; dark shall be my light, and night my day; 
 To think upon my pomp, shall be my lic'll. 
 Soiiietime I'll say, 1 am duke Humphrey's wife; 
 And he a pnnce, and ruler of the land: 
 Yet so he rul'd, and sneh a prince he was. 
 As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess, 
 Was imido a wonder, and a pointing-stock, 
 
 To every idle rascal follower. 
 
 But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame; 
 
 Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of dealh 
 
 Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will. 
 
 For Sudblk, — he that can do all in all 
 
 With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all, — 
 
 And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest, 
 
 Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings. 
 
 And, lly thou how thou canst, they'll taiigle thee: 
 
 But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd. 
 
 Nor ever seek prevention of thy foes. 
 
 Gin. Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry; 
 I must olt(?nd, before I be attainted: 
 And had I twenty times so many foes. 
 And each of them had twenty times their power, 
 All tliese could not procure me any scathe,^ 
 So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. 
 Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reiiroacn? 
 Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away, 
 But I in danger for the breach of law. 
 Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell: 
 I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience! 
 These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 ITer. I summon your grace to his majesty's 
 parliament, holden at Bury the first of this next 
 month. 
 
 Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before ! 
 This is close dealing. — Well, I will be I here. 
 
 [Exit Herald. 
 My Nell, I take my leave:— and, master sheritt; 
 Let not her penance exceed the king's commission. 
 
 Sher. An't please your grace, here my com- 
 mission stays: 
 And sir John Stanley is appointed now. 
 To take her with him to the Isle of Man. 
 
 Glo. Must you, sir John, protect inv lady here? 
 
 Stctn. So am I given in charge, may't please your 
 grace. 
 
 Gin. ICntreat her not tlie worse, in that I pray 
 You use her well: the v.'orld may laugli again; 
 And T may live to do you kindue'ss, if 
 You do It her. And so, sir John, llirewell. 
 
 Vuch. What, gone, my lord; and bid me not 
 farewell? 
 
 Glo. AVitncss my tears, I cannot stay to speak". 
 [E.reunt Gloster anil Servants. 
 
 Dueh. Art thou gone too? All comfort go with 
 thee ! 
 For none abides with me: my joy is death ; 
 Death, at whose name 1 oft have been afear'd, 
 Because I wish'd this world's eternity.— 
 Stanley, I pr'yfhee, go, and take me hence; 
 I care not whither, far I beg no favor. 
 Only convey me where thou art commanded. 
 
 Stan. Why, m.adam, that is to the Isle of JIan; 
 There to be used according to your slale. 
 
 Duch. That's bad enmigh. for lam hut reproach: 
 And shall I then be used reproachfully'? 
 
 Stan. Like to a duchess, and duke Humphrey's 
 lady. 
 According to that state von shall be nsed. 
 
 Duch. Slierilf, farewell, and bettor than I fare; 
 Although Ihou hast been conducti of my sliame! 
 
 Sher. It is ni}^ ottice, madam, pardon inc. 
 
 Duch. Ay, ay, farewell, thy office is discharged. — 
 Come, Stanley, shall we go ? 
 
 Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off this 
 sheet. 
 And go we to attire yon for our journey 
 
 Duch. I\Iy shame will not be shifted with my 
 sheet : 
 No, it will hang upon my richest robes. 
 And show itself, attire me how I can. 
 Go, lead the way ; I long to sec my prison. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE \.—The Abbey at Bury. 
 Enter to the Parliament, Kikr Hesrv, Queen 
 Margaret, CAiiniXAL Beaufort, Suffolk, York, 
 BocKIXGHAM, and others. 
 K. Hen. I musc,s my lord of Gloster is not come: 
 » Not e.<»sily. • Curse, i Deep-fftched. ■ Wonder. 
 
 "Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, 
 Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. 
 
 Q. Mar. Can you not see : or will you not ol>- 
 serve 
 The strangeness of his altered countenance? 
 With what a majesty he bears himself; 
 
 » Harm, niiscliiet; I Conductor. 
 
410 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Hdvv iiiiolent oCiate ho is become, 
 How proud, poiemptory. and unlike himself? 
 We know tile time since he was mild and affable; 
 And, if we did but glance a far-oil' look, 
 linmediafely he was upon his knee. 
 That all the court admir'd him for submission: 
 But meet hnn now, and, be it in the morn, 
 When every one will Kive the time of day. 
 He knits his brow, and shows an ansry eye. 
 And passet,'-. by with stiff unbowed knee, 
 Disdaining duty that to us belongs. 
 S:nall curs are not regarded, when they grin; 
 But great men tremble when the lion roars; 
 And Jlumphrey is no little man in Kngland. 
 First, note, that he is near you in descent; 
 And should you fall, he is the next will mount. 
 Me seemeth, then, it is no policy,— 
 Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears, 
 And his advantage following your decease,^ 
 That he should come about'your royal person. 
 Or be admitted to your highness' council. 
 By flattery halh he won the commons' heart; 
 And, when he please to make commotion, 
 Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him. 
 Now tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; 
 Sutler them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden. 
 And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. 
 The reverent care, I bear unto my lord. 
 Made me collect- these dangers in the duke. 
 If it be fond,3 call it a woman's I'ear; 
 Which fear, if better reasons can supplant, 
 I will subscribe and say,— I wrong'd the duke. 
 ]\Iy lord of Suliblk,— Buckingham';— and York,— 
 Reprove my allegation, if you can; 
 Or else conclude my words elfectual. 
 
 Suf. Well hath your highness seen into this duke. 
 And, had I tirst been put to speak my mind, 
 1 think, I should have told your grace's tale. 
 The duchess, by his subornation, 
 Upon my life, began her devilish practices: 
 Or if he were not privy to those laults, 
 Yet by reputing of his high descent,^ 
 (.\s next the king he was successive heir,) 
 And such high vaunts of his nobility 
 Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick'tluchess. 
 By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. 
 Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep; 
 And in his simple show he harbors treason. 
 The Ibx barks not, when he would steal the lamb. 
 No, no, my sovereign; (Hosier is a man 
 Unsounded yet, and lull of deep deceit. 
 
 Car. Did lie not, contrary to form of law, 
 Devise strange deaths lor s'mall ottences done! 
 
 ywk. And did he not, in his protectorship, 
 Levy great sums of money through the realm, 
 >'or soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it' 
 By means whereof, the towns each day revolted. 
 £acl;. Tut ! these are petty liiults to laults un- 
 known. 
 Which time will bring to light in smooth duke 
 Humphrey. 
 A". Hen. I\ly lords, at once: The care you have 
 of us, 
 To mow down thonis that would annoy our foot 
 Is worthy praise: But shall 1 speak my conscience ? 
 Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent 
 From ineaniiig treason to our r.jval per.-on, 
 As is the sucking lamb, or harmiess dove: 
 The duke is virtuous, mild; and too well given, 
 To dream on evil, or to work my downlall. 
 Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangerous than this 
 Ibnd alliance! 
 Seems he a dove? his fealhers arc but borrow'd. 
 For he's disposed as the hateful raven. 
 Is he a lamb .' his skin is surely lent liim. 
 For he's inclin'd as are the ravenous wolves. 
 Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit? 
 Take heed, my lord; the wellare of us all 
 Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. 
 
 Eiifer Somerset. 
 Sniii. All health unto my gracious sovereign ! 
 Ji. lieu. Welcome, lord Somerset. What news 
 
 from France ? 
 Sum. That all your interest in those territories 
 Is utterly bereit you; all is lost. 
 K. Urn. Cold news, lord Somerset: But God's 
 will be done! 
 ■> i. e. ObwrvB. , Foolish. 
 
 « i. e. Valuing himself on bis high dcsceut. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Yurk. Cold news for me; for I had hope of 
 France, 
 As firmly as I hope for fertile England. 
 Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, 
 And caterpillars eiit my leaves away; 
 But I will remedy this gear^ ere long 
 Or sell my title for a glorious grave. [AsLle. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 Gin. All happiness unto my lord the king' . 
 Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long. 
 Suf. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come toe 
 soon. 
 Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art: 
 I do arrest thee of high treason here. 
 Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet thou slialt not see me 
 blush. 
 Nor change my countenance for this arrest; 
 A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. 
 The purest spring is not so free from mud. 
 As 1 am clear from treason to my sovereign: 
 Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty? 
 York. Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes 
 of France, 
 And, being protector, staved the soldiers' pay: 
 By means whereof, his highness halh lost France. 
 Glo. Is It but thought so? What are they that 
 think it! ■' 
 
 I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay. 
 Nor ever had one pciinv bribe from France. 
 So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,— 
 Ay, night by night,— in studying good forEnglaid, 
 That doit that e'er I wrested from tlie king. 
 Or any groat I hoarded to my use. 
 Be brought against me at my trial day! 
 No! many a pound of mine own proper store, 
 Because I would not tax the needy commons. 
 Have I disbursed to the garrisons, 
 And never ask'd for restitution. 
 Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. 
 Olo. I say no more than truth, so help me God! 
 York. In your protectorehip, \ ou did devise 
 Strange tortures for oltt'iiders, never heard of, 
 That England was deliimed by tyranny. 
 Glo. Why, 'tis well known, that wiiiles I was 
 protector. 
 Pity was all the lault that was in me; 
 For I should melt at an oflender's tears. 
 And lowly words were ransom for their fault. 
 Unless it were a bloody murderer. 
 Or Ibul felonious thief that lieecffl poor passengers, 
 I never gave them condign punishment: 
 Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd 
 Above the lelon, or what trespass else. 
 Suf. My lord, these liiults are easy ,6 quickly an- 
 swer d : 
 But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, 
 Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. 
 I do arrest you in his highness'namc; 
 And here commit you to my lord cardinal 
 To keep, until your further time of trial. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord ol Gloster, 'tis my special hope 
 That you will clear yourself from all suspects; 
 My conscience tells me. you are innocent. 
 
 Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous ! 
 Virtue is chok'd with Ibul ambition, 
 And charity chased hence by rancor's hand; 
 Foul subornation is predominant. 
 And equity exiled your highness' land. 
 I kiiow, their comjilot is to have my lil'e; 
 .\nd, if my death might make this island happy, 
 And prove the period of their tyranny 
 I would expend it with all wiUmgncss 
 But mine is made the prologue to their play: 
 For thousands more, that yet susi)ect no peril. 
 Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. 
 Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, 
 And Sullblk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; 
 Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue 
 The envious load iliat lies upon his heart; 
 And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, 
 Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back. 
 By false accuse doth level at my life: — 
 And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest. 
 Causeless have laid disgraces on my head; 
 And, with your best endeavor, have stirr'd up 
 My liefest' liege to be mine enemy;- 
 Ay, all of you have laid your head's together, 
 » Gear was a gt-ueral word for thiogs or matters. 
 " Easily. Dtsirost 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 417 
 
 Myself had notice of your conventicles, 
 And all to make away my guiltless life: 
 I shall not want false witness to condemn mc, 
 Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt; 
 The ancient proverb will be well allected, — 
 A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 
 
 Ciir. My liege, his railing is intolerable: 
 If tho^e that care to keep your royal person 
 From treason's secret kni)e, and traitors' rage, 
 Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, 
 And the otiender granted scope of speech, 
 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace. 
 
 Siif. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here. 
 With ignominious words, though clerkly couch*d, 
 As if she had suborned some to swear 
 False allegations to o'erthrow his state? 
 
 Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to chide. 
 
 Gf". KaTtruerspoke,than meant: 1 lose,indeed; — 
 Bcsluew the winners, for tiiey played me talse ! 
 And well such losers may have leave to speak. 
 
 Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here 
 all day : — 
 Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner. 
 
 tV/r. Sirs, take away the tluke, and guard him sure. 
 
 Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch, 
 Before his legs be lirm to "bear his body: 
 Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, 
 And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. 
 Ah, that my fear were ialse ! ah, that it were ! 
 For, good Jcing Henry, thy decay I fear. 
 
 {Exeunt Attendants, lolth Gloster. 
 
 K.Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemcth 
 best, 
 Do. or undo, as if ourself were here. 
 
 Q. Mar. What, will your highness leave the par- 
 liament ? 
 
 K. Jlcn. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown 'd 
 with grief, 
 Whose flood begins to tlow within mine eyes; 
 My body round engirt with misery ; 
 For what's more miserable than discontent? 
 Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see 
 The map of honor, truth, and loyalty; 
 And yet, good Humphrey, is thc'liour to come. 
 That e'er I prov'd tlicc false, or fear'd thy faith. 
 What low'ring star now envies thy estate. 
 That these great lords, and Margaret our queen. 
 Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? 
 Thou never didst tliem wrong, nor no man wrong ; 
 And as the butcher takes away the calf. 
 And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, 
 Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house; 
 Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence. 
 And as the dam runs lowing up and down, 
 Looking the way her Iiarmless young one went. 
 And can do nought but wail her darling's loss; 
 Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case. 
 With sad unhelpful tears; and with dimni'd eyes 
 Look after him, and cannot do him good ; 
 So mighty are his vowed enemies. 
 His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan. 
 Say, — Who's a irniior, Gloster he is none. [Exit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Free lords, cold snow mclta witn the 
 sun's hot beams. 
 Henry my lord is cold in great afTairs, 
 Too lull of foolish pity ; and Gloster's show 
 Beguiles him, as the mournfu' crocodile 
 With sorrow snares relentiiu' p.issmL'ers; 
 Or as the snake, roll'd in a llowcriiig bank. 
 With shining checker'd slough,^ dotli sting a child. 
 That, for the beauty, tiiinks it excellent. 
 Believe me. lords, were none more wise than T, 
 ' A,nd yet, herein, I judge mine own wit goo(i,) 
 This Gloster should be^quickly rid the world, 
 To rid us from the fear we have of him. 
 
 Car, That he t-hould die, is worthv policy: 
 But yet we want a color for his death : 
 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law. 
 
 Siff. But, in my mind, that were no policy : 
 The king will labor still to save his life, " 
 The commons Jiaply rise to save his life; 
 And yet we have but trivia! argument. 
 More than mistrust, that sliows him worthy death. 
 
 York. So that, by this, you would not have nim die. 
 
 SiiJ. Ah, York, no man alive so tain as I. 
 
 York. 'Tis York that hath moio reason for his 
 death.— 
 But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suflblk,— 
 
 Say as jou think, and speak it from your souls, — 
 Were't not all one, an empty eagle were set 
 To guard the cliickcn from a hungry kite. 
 As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector? 
 
 Q. Mar. So tlie poor ohicken should be sure of 
 death. 
 
 Huf. Madam, 'tis true : And were't not madness 
 then. 
 To make the fox surveyor of the fold ? 
 Who being accus'd a crafty murderer. 
 His guilt should be but idly posted over, 
 Because his purpose is not executed. 
 No ; let him die, in that he is a fox. 
 By nature prov'd an enemy to the tlock, 
 Before his cJiaps be stain'd with crimson blood; 
 As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege. 
 And do not stand on quillets how to slay him : 
 Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty. 
 Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how. 
 So lie be dead ; lor that is good deceit 
 Which mates'' him first, that lirst intends deceit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Sullblk, 'tis resolutely 
 spoke. 
 
 Suf. Not resolute, except so much were done; 
 For things are often spoke, and seldom meant: 
 But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue,— 
 Seeing the deed is meritorious. 
 And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,' 
 Say but the word, and I will be his priest. 
 
 Car. But I would liave him dead, my lord of 
 Suflblk- 
 Ere you can take due orders for a priest : 
 Say, you consent, and censure well the deed, 
 And I'll provide ins executioner, 
 I tender so Ihc safety of my liege. 
 
 Suf, Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. 
 
 Q. Mar. And so say I. 
 
 Yiirk. And I : and now wc three have spoke it. 
 It skills not greatly' who imimgns our doom. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, 
 To signify — that rebels there arc up. 
 And put the Englishmen unto the sword : 
 Send succors, lords, and stop the rage betinie, 
 Betbre the wound do grow incurable; 
 For, being green, there is great hope of help. 
 
 Car, A breach, tliat craves a quick expedient^ 
 stop! 
 What counsel give you in this weighty cause? 
 
 York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither; 
 'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employ 'il; 
 Witness the fortune he hath had m France. 
 
 Som. If York, with all his far-fet-* poUc)', 
 Had been the regent there instead of me. 
 He never would have staid in France so long. 
 
 York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done : 
 I rather would have lost my life betimes, 
 Than bring a burden of dishonor home, 
 By staying there so long, till all were lost. 
 Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: 
 Men's flesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win. 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging 
 fire. 
 If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with : — 
 No more, good York; — sweet Somerset, be still; — 
 Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, 
 Mi:j:ht happily have ])rov'd far worse tiian his. 
 
 York. What, worse than naught? nay, then a 
 sliaine take all ! 
 
 So///. And, in the number, tJiee, that wishest 
 shame I 
 
 Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is. 
 The uncivil kernes^ of Ireland are m arms. 
 And temper clay with blood of Englishmen: 
 Tt> Ireland will you lead a band of men, 
 Collected choicely, from each county some, 
 And try your hap against the Irishmen ? 
 
 York. \ will, my lord, so please his majestj-. 
 
 Suf. Why. our authority is his consent; 
 And, what "we do establish, he confirms : 
 Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. 
 
 York. I am content; Provide me soldiers, lords, 
 Whiles I take order for mine own alliiirs. 
 
 Suf. Acharge,Iord York.that 1 willsee pcrfbrm'd. 
 But iiow return we to the false duke Humphrey. 
 
 Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him, 
 
 9 Matirhen. i Tt is of no impnrUiuca. 
 
 a Kxpt'ditlous. a Far-fetcht-d. 
 
 * Irish foot-BolditTB, light-armed. 
 
418 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more. 
 And so break otl'; the day is almost spent: 
 Lord SulFolk, you and I must talk of that event. 
 
 Yt/rh. My lord of Sullblk, within fourteen days, 
 At Bristol I expect my •)ldicrs; 
 For there I'll ship them all tor Ireland. 
 
 Siif. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Yore. 
 
 York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful 
 thoughts. 
 And change misdoubt to resolution: 
 Be that tliou hop'st to be; or what thou art 
 Jicsign to death, it is not worlh the enjoying : 
 Let pale-faced li?ar keep with the moan-born man, 
 And hnd no harbor in ii royal heart. 
 Faster than spring-time showers, conies thought 
 
 on thocglit ; 
 And not a tlioui^ht, but thinks on dignity, 
 ily brain, more busy than the laboring spider, 
 Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. 
 Well, nobles, v/ell, 'tis politicly done. 
 To send me packing with an host of men : 
 I fear me, you but warm the starved snake. 
 Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your 
 
 hearts, 
 'Xwas men I lack'd, and you will give them me: 
 I take it kindly; yet, be well assur'd 
 You ■f)ut sharp weapons in a madman's hands. 
 Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, 
 I will stir up in England some black storm. 
 Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell: 
 And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 
 Until the golden circuit on my head. 
 Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, 
 Co cairn the fury of this mad-bred Ilaw.^ 
 And for a minister of my intent, 
 I liave seduced a head-strong Kentishman, 
 John Cade of Ashlbrd, 
 To make commotion, as full well he can, 
 Under the title of John Mortimer. 
 In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 
 Oppose himself against a troop of kernes ; 
 And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts 
 Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porcuiiine; 
 And, in the end being rescu'd, 1 have seen him 
 Caper upright like a wild Mnrisco.^ 
 Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. 
 Full often, like a shag-hair'd crally kerne. 
 Hath he conversed with the enemy: 
 And undiscover'd come to me again, 
 And given me notice of their villanies. 
 Tliis devil here shall be my substitute; 
 For that John Mortimer, which now is dead. 
 In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble : 
 By this I shall perceive liie commons' mind. 
 How they allect the house and claim of York. 
 Say, lie be taken, rack'd, and tortured : 
 I know, no pain, they can inliict upon him. 
 Will make him say — I mov'd him to those arms. 
 Siiy, that lie thrive, (as 'tis great like he will,) 
 Why then from Ireland come I with my strength, 
 And re;i.p the harvest which that rascal sow'd: 
 For Humphrey being dead, as he siiall be. 
 And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Bury. A Rcmn in ike Palace. 
 Enter certain Murderers, hastibj. 
 
 1 Mur. Run to iny lord of Suflblk; let him know, 
 We have despatch'd the duke as he commanded. 
 
 2 Mur, O, tliat it were to do ! — What have we 
 
 done 1 
 Didst ever hear a man so penitent ? 
 
 Enter Suffolk. 
 
 1 Mur* Here comes my lord. 
 
 -S'///. ^ Now, sn*s, have you 
 
 Despatch'd this thing 1 
 
 1 Mur. ^ Ay, my good lord, he's dead. 
 
 iJi//. Why, that's well said. Go, got you to my 
 house; 
 I will reward you for this venturous deed. 
 The king and all the peers are here at hand :— 
 Have you laid fair the bed ] are all tilings well, 
 According as I gave dirfictionsl 
 
 1 Mu}'. 'Tis, my g<»'id lord. 
 
 Suf. Away, begone ! [Exeunt Murderers. 
 
 • A violent gust cf wintl. e A Jluor in a morris d.iuco. 
 
 Enter Kino Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardinal 
 Beaufort, Somerset, Lords, and others. 
 K. Hen. Go call our uncle to our presence 
 straight: 
 Say, we intend to try his groce to-day, 
 If he be guilty, as 'lis [lublished. 
 Suf. I'll call him presenlly, my noble lord. [Exit. 
 K. Hen. Lords, take your places; — And, 1 pray 
 you all. 
 Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Glosler, 
 7'han from true evidence, of good esteem. 
 He be approv'd in practice culpable. 
 
 Q. Mar, God forbid any malice should prevail, 
 Tliat faultless may condemn a nobleman ! 
 Pniy God, he may acquit him of suspicion! 
 K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret ; these words 
 content me much. — 
 
 Re-enter Suffolk. 
 Hovp now T why look'st thou pale 1 why tremblest 
 
 thoul 
 Where is our uncle? what is the matter, SulTolkl 
 
 tiuf. Dead in his bed, my lord : Gloster is dead. 
 
 Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend! 
 
 Car. God's secret judgment: — I did dream to- 
 night, 
 The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. 
 [The Ki}i<i swoons. 
 
 Q. Mar. How fares my lord 1— Help, lords ! the 
 king is dead. 
 
 So7n. Rear up his body ; wring him by the nose. 
 
 Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help! — 0, Henry, ope 
 thine eyes ! 
 
 Suf. He doth revive again ; — Madam, be patient. 
 
 A'. Jkn. O heavenly God ! 
 
 Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord 1 
 
 Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, 
 comlbrt! 
 
 K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort 
 me ! 
 Came he right now to sing a raven's note. 
 Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; 
 And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren, 
 By crying comfort from a hollow breast. 
 Can chase away the hrst-coneeived sound'? 
 Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words, 
 Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I saj'; 
 Their touch alfrights me, as a serpent's sting. 
 Thou baleiul messenger, out of my sight! 
 Upon t!iy eye-balls murderous tyranny 
 Sits in grim maiesly. to Iright the world. 
 Look nut upon ine, for thine eyes are wounding: — 
 Yet do not go away; — Come, basilisk, 
 And kill the innocent gazer with thy siglit: 
 For in the shade of death 1 shall find joy! 
 In lile, but double death, now Gioster's dead. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk 
 thusl 
 Although the duke was enemy to him. 
 Yet he, most christian-hke laments his death: 
 And lor myself, — foe as he was to me, 
 Might liquid tears, or heart-oili?nding groans. 
 Or blood-consumine; sighs recall his lite, 
 I would be blind wilth weeping, sick with groans, 
 Look pale as primrose, witii blood-drinlving sighs. 
 And all to have tiie noble duke alive. 
 What know I how the world may deem of mel 
 For it is known, we were but hollow friends; 
 It may be Judg'd, I made the duke away; 
 So siiall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, 
 And princes' courts be till'd with my reproach. 
 This get 1 by liis death: Ah me, unhapjiy! 
 To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy! 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wTCtched 
 man ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than 
 he is. 
 What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face? 
 I am no loathsome leper, look on me. 
 What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? 
 Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen. 
 Is all thy comlbrt shut in Gioster's tomb ? 
 Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy; 
 Erect his statue then, and worship it, 
 And make my image but an alehouse sign. 
 Was 1, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea; 
 And twice by a\vkward wind Irom England's bank 
 Drove back aiiain unto my native clime? 
 What boded this, but well-lbrewarmng wind 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 419 
 
 Did seem to say, — Seek not a scorpion's nest, ■ 
 
 Nor set no ibotinj? on this unkind sliore] 
 
 Wliat did I tlicn. hut ciirsM Ihi- senile gusis, 
 
 And lie tluil lo.»'d them I'loin their brazen eavos; 
 
 And hid IJiemljl')" towards Eii;^land'6blcsscdsliore, 
 
 f)r turn our stern uixin a drcadliil rock! 
 
 Yet .-I'^olus would not be a murderer, 
 
 )iut left that hateful otiice unto thee: 
 
 The prcttv vaulting sea reius'd lo drown me:_ 
 
 Knowing.'that thou wouldst have me drown "d on 
 
 shore, 
 With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness: 
 The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands, 
 And would not dash me with their ragged sides; 
 Because thy llinty heart, more hard than they, 
 Jlight in tliy palace perish Margaret. 
 As lar as I could ken thy clialk\- dills, 
 When I'rom the shore the tempest hent us back, 
 I stood upon the batches in the storm: 
 And when the dusky sky began to rob 
 My earnest-gaping sight of thy kind's view, 
 I took a costly jewel Irom my neck, — 
 A heart it was, bound in with diamonds. 
 And threw it towards thy land; — the sea recciv'dit; 
 And so, I wish'd, thy body might my heart; 
 And even witli this, I lost lair England's view. 
 And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart; 
 And call'd them blind and dusty spectacles, 
 For losing ken ot Albion's wished coast. 
 How oAeh have I tempted .Suflolk's tongue 
 (The agent ol'thy I'oul ijiconstancyl 
 To sit and witch me, as Ascanius aid. 
 When he to madding Dido would uiilbid 
 His liither's acts, commenced in burning TroyT 
 Am I not witeh'd like her! or thou not liilse like 
 
 him? 
 Ah me, I can no more ! Die, Margaret ! 
 For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long. 
 
 Kui.sc within. Enter Wap.wick anil Salisbcey. 
 J, 7'Ae Commons j/n.^s tu tlu- ihiur. 
 
 War. 11 is reported, iniglit.\ sovereign, 
 That good duke Humphrey traitorously is murdcr'd 
 By Sutfolk aii<l the cardinal lieaiifbrt's means. 
 The commons, like an aiigrj" hive ol* bees, 
 That want tlieir leader, scatter up and down, 
 And care not who they sting in his revenge. 
 Mysell'have calm'd their spleenlul mutiny, 
 Until they hear the order of his death. 
 
 A". Ikn. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too 
 true; 
 But how he died, God knows, not Henry : 
 Knter his chamber, view his breathless corpse. 
 And comment then upon his sudden death. 
 
 HVn-. That I shall do, my liege : — Stay, Salisbury", 
 With the rude multitude, till 1 return. 
 
 [Wahwick gdcs into an inner Room, and 
 Salisbluv retires. 
 
 K. Hen. tliou that judgest all things, stay my 
 thoughts: 
 My thoughts^ that labor to persuade my soul, 
 Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life! 
 H'ray suspect be false, forgive me, God; 
 For judgment only doth belong to thee ! 
 Fain would I go to chafe his paly lijis 
 With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain 
 Upon his lace an ocean ol'salt tears; 
 To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, 
 And with" my lingers feel his hand unfeeling: 
 But all in vain are these mean obsequies ; 
 And, to survey his dead and earthy image. 
 What were it'but to make my sorrow greater? 
 
 The fiildiufi iliiors nf an inner cham'ier are tkrencn 
 o/Hii. nnd (iLosTEit i.s flh-cm-rreU dead in his bed: 
 W AituicK and others standing by it. 
 War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this 
 
 bodv- 
 K. Ilcn. Tliat is to see how deep my grave is 
 made : 
 For, with his soul fled all my worldly solace ; 
 For seeing him. I see my lite in death.' 
 
 War. As surely as my -soul intends to live 
 With that dread King that took our stale upon him 
 To tree us Iroin his Father's wrathful curse, 
 I do believe that violent hands were laid 
 Upon Ihe life of this thrice-famed duke. 
 
 Suf.A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! 
 What instance gives lord Warwick lor his vow ! 
 ' i. K. I seo my life endangered by his deatll. 
 
 War. See how the blood is settled in his face 
 Oil have I seen a timely-parted ghost,* 
 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless. 
 Being "all descended to the lahoriiig lieart ; 
 Who", in the conlliet thafit holds with death. 
 Attracts the same tor aidance 'gainst the enemy, 
 Which with the heart there coolsand ne'er returneth 
 To blush and beautify the cheek" again. 
 But, see, his lace is biack, and full of blood; 
 His eye-halls further out than when he liv'd, 
 Staring full ghastly like a strangled man : 
 Hisliair uprear'd,his nostrils stretch'd with strug- 
 gling; 
 His hands abroad disjilay d, as one that grasp d 
 And tugg'd for lilc, and was by strength subdued. 
 Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking ; 
 H iswell-proporl ion'd heard made rougli and rugged, 
 Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. 
 It cannot be, but he was murdcr'd here; 
 The least of all these signs were probable. 
 Suf. Why. Warwick, who should do the duke 
 lo death ? 
 Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection ; 
 Aiid we, 1 hope, sir, are no murderers. 
 
 War. But both of jou were vow'd duke Hum- 
 phrey's foes; 
 And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep : 
 'Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend; 
 And 'tis well seen he found an enemy. 
 Q. Mar. Then jou, belike, suspect these noble- 
 men 
 As guilty of duke Humi^hrey's timeless deatii. 
 War. Who finds the heilcr dead, and bleeding 
 fresh. 
 And sees fast by a butcher with an axe. 
 But will suspect, 'twas he that made theslaughlcr ! 
 Who finds the partridge in the puttoek's nest. 
 But may imagine how the bird was de.id. 
 Although the kite soar with uubloodied beak ! 
 Even se> suspicious is this tragedy. 
 y. Mar. Are you the butcher, "Suffolk I Where's 
 your knili? 1 
 Is Beaulbrt term'ri a kite ? where are his talons ? 
 
 Suf. 1 wear no knili', to slaughter sleeping men; 
 But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease. 
 That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart. 
 That slanders nic with murder's crimson badge : — 
 Say, if thou dar'st. proud lord of Warwickshire, 
 Tliat I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death. 
 
 [Kj-eunI CAimiNAL. Som., and nihcr.t. 
 War. What dares not Warwick, if liilse Sullblk 
 
 dare him ! 
 Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious 
 spirit. 
 Nor cease to be an arrogant controller. 
 Though Suffolk dare liiin twenty thousand limes. 
 War. Madam, be still ; with reverence may 1 say ; 
 For every word, you speak in his behalf, 
 Is slande'r lo your royal dignity. 
 
 Siif. Bhint-wiltcd lord, ignoble in demeanor! 
 n'ever lady wrong'd her lord so much. 
 Thy mother look into her blameful bed 
 Soiiie stern unlutor'd churl, and noble stock 
 Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art. 
 And never of the Ncvil's noble race. 
 
 War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee, 
 And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, 
 Quitting thee thereby often thousand shames. 
 And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, 
 I would, false murderous coward,on thy knee 
 Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech.^ 
 And say — it was thy mother that thou meant'st, 
 That thou thyself wast born in bastardy; 
 And, after all" this fearful homage done. 
 Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul lo hell. 
 Pernicious b'loodsucker of sleeping men ! 
 
 Snf. Thou shall be waking, while I shed Ihy blood, 
 Hfrom this presence thou dar'st go with nie. 
 
 War. ,\way even now, or I will drag thee hence: 
 Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee. 
 And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost. 
 [Exeunt Suffolk and Wai,\vice. 
 A'. lien. What-stronger breast-plate than a heart 
 untainted ! 
 Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just ; 
 And he but naked, thoujjh lock'd up in steel. 
 Whose con-science with injustice is corrupted. 
 
 [A jwisc within, 
 
 B Tbe bcdy of one who had died a natural death. 
 
420 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 [Act. III. 
 
 Q. Mar. Wliat noise is this 1 
 
 Re-enter Suffolk and Wauwick, with their 
 weapons drawn. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, how now, lords'! your wrathful 
 weapons drawn 
 Here in our presence! dare you be so bold? — 
 Why, what tumultuous clamor have we here] 
 ij'i//'. The traitorous Warwick, witli the men of 
 Bury, 
 Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. 
 
 Noise of a Crowd within. Re-enter SvVlisburt. 
 
 iSV/Z. Sirs, stand apart; the king sliall k-now your 
 mind. — [Speaking to those within. 
 
 Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, 
 Unless ialse Sutiblk strai)£;ht be done to death, 
 Or banished lair England's territories, 
 They will by violence tear hnn from your palace, 
 And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. 
 Tlicy say, by him the good duke Humphrey died; 
 Tliey say, in him they tear your highness' death ; 
 And mere instinct ol love, and loyalty, — 
 Free from a stubborn opposite intent, 
 As being thought to contradict your liking, — 
 Makes tliem tiius lorward in his banishntcnt. 
 They say, in care of your most royal person, 
 That, if your iiighncss shuuhl intend to sleep, 
 And charge — that no man slundd disturb your rest. 
 In pain of your dislike, or pain of death; 
 Yet notwithstanding sucJi a strait edict. 
 Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue. 
 That silly glided towards your majesty, 
 It were but necessary, you were waked; 
 Lest, being sulibr'd. ni that harmful slumber, 
 Tlie mortal worm might make the sleep eternal: 
 And thercl()re do they cry, though you forbid, 
 Tliat they will guard you, whc'r you will, or no, 
 Fnim such fell serpents as false Sutlblk is; 
 With whose envenomed and latal sting, 
 ^ our loving uncle, twenty times liis worth, 
 They say, is shamefully borell of iile. 
 
 L'umtui/)is. [ IVifhin.] An answer from the king, 
 my lord otSafisbury. 
 
 &'»/.'Tis like I lie cintunons,rude unpolished hinds. 
 Could send such nu'ssage to their sovereign: 
 lUit you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd. 
 To stiow how quaint'* an orator you are: 
 But all the honor Salisbury hath won. 
 Is — that lie was the lord ambassador, 
 Sent from a sort' of tinkers to the king. 
 
 Cumtuon^. \ WUhin.] An answer Irom the king, 
 or we'll break m. 
 
 K. Hen. Go. Salisbury, and tell them all from me, 
 I thank them for their tender loving care: 
 And had I not been 'cited so by them, 
 Vet did i purpose as they do entreat; 
 For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy 
 Mischance unto niy state by Sudblk's means. 
 And therelbre, — by His Majesty I swear, 
 Wliose lar unworthy deputy I am, — 
 He shall not breathe inlection in this air 
 But three days longer, on the pain of death. 
 
 {K.rU SALisitrRY. 
 
 Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead lorgcnlli' Sullolk. 
 
 A', lieu. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Sul- 
 lolk. 
 No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him, 
 Tliou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. 
 Had I but said. I would have kept my word ; 
 But, when I swear, it is irrevocable:^ 
 If, allor three days' space, thou here bc'st found 
 On any ground that 1 am ruler of, 
 The world shall not be ransom tor thy lite.— 
 Come, Warwick, come good Warwick, go with 
 
 me; 
 I Iiave great matters to impart to thee. 
 
 [Kxetint K. Henuy, Warwick, Lords, ^-c. 
 
 Q. Mar. Mischance, and sorrow, go along with 
 you ! 
 Heart's discontent and sour affliction. 
 Be i)layIl'llows to Ueep you company ! 
 Tiu'ic's two of you ; ilic devil make a third ! 
 Ami Ihreelbld vcngi^uu-c lend upon your steps! 
 
 Sttf. Cease, geniie quicu. these execrations, 
 Ami let tliy Sullolk take his heavy leave. 
 
 » Dexterous. 
 
 * Company. 
 
 Q. Mar. Fye, coward woman, and soft-hearted 
 wretch! 
 Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies 1 
 
 &'(//. A plague upon them! wherefore should I 
 curse them '! 
 Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, 
 I would invent as bitter-searching terms, 
 As crust, as liarsh, and horrible to hear, 
 Dehver'd strongly through my fixed teeth. 
 With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
 As lean-faced Knvy in her loathsome cave : 
 My tongue should stumble in mine earnest word* 
 Mme eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; 
 My hair be lix'd on end, as one distract; 
 Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: 
 And even now my burden'd heart would break, 
 Should 1 not curse them. Poison be their drink ! 
 Gall, woi>e tiian gall, the dantiest that they taste! 
 Their sweetest sliatle, a grove of cypirss trees! 
 Their chieiest inosj^ect, murdering basilisks ! 
 Their softest touch, as sharp as lizards' stings ! 
 Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss! 
 And boding screech-owls make tne concert full 
 AH the foul terrors in dark-seated hell — 
 
 Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suflblk ; thou torment'st 
 thyself; 
 And these dread curses — like the sun 'gainst glass, 
 Or like an overcharged gun — recoil. 
 And turn the force of them upon thyself. 
 
 i<itf. You bade me ban,'^and will you bidmeleavel 
 Now, by the ground tliat I am banish'd from, 
 Well could 1 curse away a winter's night. 
 Though standing naked on a mountain top. 
 Where biting cold would never let grass grow. 
 And think it but a minute spent in sport. 
 
 Q. Mar. U let me entreat lliee, cease ! Give me 
 thy hand. 
 That I may dew it with my mournful tears; 
 Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, 
 To wash away my woeful monuments. 
 O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand ; 
 
 [Kiises his hnnd. 
 That thou mightst think upon these by the seal, 
 Tlirough whoin a thousand sighs are hreath'd for 
 
 thee ! 
 So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; 
 'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by, 
 Ag one that surfeits thinking on a want. 
 I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd, 
 Adventure to be banished myself: 
 And banished I am, if but from thee. 
 Go, speak not to me ; even now be gone. — 
 O, go not yet ! — Even thus two friends condemnM 
 Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
 Loather a hundred times to part than die. 
 Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee ! 
 
 S(//. Thus is poor Sullolk ten times banished. 
 Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 
 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence ; 
 A wilderness is populous enough, 
 So Sutlblk had thy heavenly company; 
 For were thou art, there is the world itself. 
 With every several pleasure in the world; 
 And where thou art not, desolation. 
 I can no more: — live thou to joy thy life; 
 IMyself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st. 
 
 Enter Vaux. 
 
 Q. Mar. AViiither goes Vaux so fast? what news 
 I pr'ythee ? 
 
 J'aitx. To signify unto his majesty, 
 That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death : 
 For suddenly a grievous sickness took him. 
 That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch tlie air. 
 Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. 
 Sometime, he talks as if duke Htmiphrey's ghost 
 Were by his side; sometime, he calls the king. 
 And whispers to ins pillow, as to him, 
 The secret of his overcharged soul: 
 And I am sent to tell his majesty, 
 That even now he cries aloud for him. 
 
 Q. Mar. Go, tell this heavj' message to the king. 
 
 [Kcit Vaux, 
 Ah me . what is this world ] what news are these] 
 But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, 
 OiniHin:: Sullblk's exile, my soul's treasure ] 
 Why only, Sullolk, mourn 1 not for thee, 
 And with the souUiern clouds contend in tears; 
 
 » Curse. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY Yl. 
 
 421 
 
 Thoirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows? 
 Now, get thee hence : The king, thou know"st, is 
 
 cominjj: 
 If thon he found by me, thou art but dead. 
 
 Siif. If I depart from thee. I cannot hvc : 
 And"in thy sight to die, what were it else, 
 liut like a pleasant slumber in thy lap } 
 Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
 As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe. 
 Dying with mother's dug between its lips: 
 Where.^ from thy sight, I shguld he raging mad 
 And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, 
 To have thee with thy lips to stop my riiouth; 
 So shouldst thou either turn my tlyiiig soul, 
 Or I should breathe it so into thj' hody. 
 And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. 
 To die by thee, were but to die in jest ; 
 From thee to die, were torture more than death : 
 0. let me stay, befall what may befall. 
 
 Q. Mar. Away ! though parting be a fretful cor- 
 rosive. 
 It is applied to a deathfnl wound. 
 To France, sweet Sutfolk : let me hear from thee ; 
 Vox wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, 
 I'll have an Iris that shall tind thee out. 
 
 S"/. I go. 
 
 Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee. 
 
 Siif. A jewel, loek'd into the woefuTst cask 
 Tiiat ever did contain a thing of worth. 
 Even as a splitterl bark, so sunder we. 
 This way lall I to death. 
 
 Q. Mar. ' This way for me. 
 
 [Kxeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE III.— London. Cardinal Beaufort's 
 
 Bed-chamher. 
 
 Enter Kint. Henry, SALisnrRV, Warwicii, awl 
 
 iifhf-rs. The Cardinal m bed; Attendants with 
 
 him. 
 
 K. Ihn. How fares my lord ? speak, Beaufort, to 
 thy sovereign. 
 
 Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's 
 treasure. 
 F.nough to purchase such another island. 
 So thou wilt let me live, and leel no pain. 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, wliat a sign.it is of evil life, 
 Wficn death's approach is seen so terrible ! 
 
 War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to 
 thee. 
 
 Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
 Died he not in his bed ! where shoidd he die ? 
 Can I make men live, whe'r they will or nol — 
 ! torture me no more. I will ebnless. — 
 Alive again ? then sliow me wliere he is ; 
 I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. — 
 He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.— 
 Comb down his hair ! look ! look ! it stands up- 
 right. 
 Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! — 
 (Jive me some drink; an<l bid the apothecary 
 Bring the strong poison that I bought of liini. 
 
 K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 
 Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
 O. beat away the busy meddling iiend, 
 That lays strong siege imto this wretch's soul. 
 And from his bosom purge this black despair! 
 
 War. See how the pangs of death do make him 
 grin. 
 
 Sal. Disturb him not. let him pass peaceably. 
 
 A'. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good plea- 
 sure be ! 
 Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, 
 Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.— 
 He dies, and makes no sign; God, "forgive him. 
 
 War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 
 
 K. lien. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners 
 all. — 
 Close up his eyes, and draw tjie curtain close ; 
 And let us all to meditation. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Kent. The Seashore near Dover. 
 
 Firing heard at Sea. Then enter from a boat a 
 Captain, a Master, a Master's Mate, Walter 
 \\'uin\iiii]:. (nkI (i/hei-s ; with tKem Suffolk and 
 other (lentlemeu, Piisoners. 
 
 Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorscfuH day 
 Is crept into the bosom of the sea ; 
 And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
 That drag the tragic melaucholv night; 
 \Vho with tlicir drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 
 Clip (lead men's L'rnvcs. nuij liom their misty jaws, 
 Breatiie foul eonlai:ious darkness in tlie air. 
 Theretiire. bring forlli the stildiers of our prize; 
 For, whilst our pinnace'' anchors in the Do\vns, 
 Here shall they make their ransom on the sand. 
 Or with their blood stain this discolor'd shore. — 
 Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ; — 
 And thou that are his mate, make boot of this ; — 
 The other, [Pointing to Suffolk.] Walter Whit- 
 more, is thy share. 
 
 1 Cent. What is niy ransom, master'! let me know. 
 
 Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your 
 head. 
 
 Mote. And so much shall you give, or off goes 
 yours. 
 
 Co;j. ■\Vhat, think you much to pay two thou- 
 sand crowns. 
 And bear tlic name and port of gentlemen?— 
 Cut both the vdlains' throats; — for die you shall: 
 The lives of those which we have lost in tight. 
 Cannot be eonnterpois'd with such a petty sum. 
 
 1 Gent. I'll give it, sir ; and therefore spare my life. 
 
 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home 'for it 
 
 straight. 
 Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard. 
 And therelbre to revenge it, shalt thou (lie ; 
 
 {To Suffolk. 
 And so should these, if I might have my will. 
 Cap. Be not so rash ; take ransom, let'him live. 
 
 • Whereas. * Pitiful. s A ship of small burden.. 
 
 Suf. Look on my George. I am a gentleman ; 
 Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. 
 Whit. And so am I ; — my name is — Walter 
 Whitmorc. 
 How now! why start's! thou? what, doth death 
 affright ? 
 Siif. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is 
 death. 
 A cunning man did calculate my birth. 
 And told me — that by Water I s'hould die: 
 ■^et let not this make thee be bloody minded; 
 •Thy name is — Una/tier, being rightly sounded. 
 Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care 
 not; 
 Ne'er yet did base dishonor blur our name, 
 But with our sword we wiped away the blot; 
 Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge. 
 Broke be my sword, my arms torn an(l deliiced. 
 And I proclaim'd a coward through the world ! 
 
 {Lay.s hold on Suffolk. 
 Siif. Stay, Whitmorc; tor thy prisoner is a 
 pniice. 
 The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole. 
 
 Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags! 
 Saf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke; 
 Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not 1 ? 
 Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thiiu shalt be. 
 Siif. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's 
 blood. 
 The honorable blood of Lancaster, 
 Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.6 
 Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand. and held my stirrup? 
 Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule. 
 And thought thee happy w'hen I shook my head? 
 How ollen hast thou waited at my cup, 
 Fed from my trencher, kncel'd down at the board, 
 W'hen I have feasted with queen Margaret ? 
 Remember it, and let it make thee crest-tallen ; 
 Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride: 
 How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood, 
 And duly waited for my coining forth ! 
 
 « .\ low fellow. 
 
422 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, 
 And therefore shall it charm thy riotous longtio. 
 Whit. Speak, captain, shall 1 stab the Ibrlorn 
 
 swain ] 
 Cap. First let my words stab him, as lie hath me. 
 Huf. Base slave ! thy words arc blunt, and so art 
 
 thou. 
 Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's 
 side 
 Strike oti his head. 
 ^tif. Thou dar'st not for thy own. 
 
 Cap. yes, Poole. 
 S^af. Poole 1 
 
 Cap. Poole ? sir Poole ? lord 7 
 
 Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose tilth and dirt 
 Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. 
 Now will I dam up tliis thy yawning mouth, 
 For swallowinfiT tlic treasureof the realm; 
 Thy lips, tliat kiss'ri the queen, shall sweep the 
 
 ground; 
 And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humphrey's 
 
 death. 
 Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain. 
 Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again : 
 And wedded be thou to the hags ol heli. 
 For daring to aHy" a mighty lord 
 Unto the daughter of a worthless king. 
 Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. 
 By devilish policy art thou grown great. 
 And, like ambitious Sylla, ovcrgorsed 
 "With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. 
 By thee Anjou an(i I^Iaine were sold io France : 
 The lalse revolting Normans, thorough thee. 
 Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy 
 Hath slain their governors, surpriz'd our forts, 
 And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. 
 The princely Warwick, and the Ncvils all,— 
 Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, — 
 As hating thee, are rising up in arms : 
 And now the houseof York — thrust from the crown. 
 By shameful murder of a guiltless king. 
 And lolly proud encroaching lyniiiiiy — 
 Burns with revenging tiro ; « liiise liiipeful colors 
 Advance our halt-faced sun, striving to shine. 
 Under tlic which is v.r\t—Invilis nuhibux. 
 The commons here in Kent are up in arms: 
 And, to conclude, reproach and beggary 
 Is crept into the palace of our king. 
 And all by thee : — Away ; convey him hence. 
 
 .S'h/. O that 1 were a god, to shoot forth thunder 
 Upon these paltry, servile, adject drudges ! 
 Small things make base men proud: this villain here, 
 Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more 
 Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate. 
 Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bce-l 
 It is impossible, that I should die 
 By.such a lowly vassal as thyself. 
 Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me : 
 1 go of message from the queen to France ; 
 I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel. 
 
 Cap. Walter, 
 
 (KAiY. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. 
 Sul^ (nlidus tintur occapat arfus : 'tis thee 1 tear. 
 jy/UI. Thou Shalt have cause to iear, belbre I 
 leave thee. 
 What, are ye daunted now ? now will ye stoop ? 
 1 Cent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak 
 
 him liiir. 
 Saf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, 
 Used to command, untaught to plead for lavor. 
 Far be it, we should honor such as these 
 With humble suit: no, rather let my head 
 Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any 
 Save to the God of heaven, and to my king ; 
 And sooner dance upon a bloody pole, 
 Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. 
 True nobility is exemjit from fear : — 
 I\Iore can 1 bear, than you dare execute. 
 
 Ca)). Hale him away. and let hiin talk no more. 
 Suf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, 
 That this my death may never be forgot! — 
 Great men oft die by vile bezonians :^ 
 A Roman sworder and banditto slave, 
 Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand 
 Stabh'd Julius Caesar; savage .islanders, 
 Pompcy the great: and Sullblk dies by pirates. 
 
 [Exit SuF. V!Uh Whit, ami ut/ier.i. 
 Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have set, 
 It is our pleasure one of them depart: — 
 T To beti-oth in marriage. ■ Low men. 
 
 ' bee-hives. 
 
 Therefore come you with us, and let him go. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Itiejint Gentleman. 
 
 Re-enter Whitjiore, tvitli Suffolic's Bodi/. 
 
 ll'liit. There let his head and lifeless body lie. 
 
 Until the queen his mistress bury it. [i ciL 
 
 1 Gejit. O barbarous and bloody spectacle ! 
 His body will 1 bear unto the king: 
 If he revenge it not, yet will his ii-iends; 
 So will the queen, that living held him dear. 
 
 [Exit, witit tfic Body, 
 
 SCENE II.— Blackhoath. 
 Enter George Bevis and .Toiin IIolla5d. 
 
 Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made 
 of a lath ; they have been up these two days. 
 
 Jotin. They have the more need to sleep now fht n. 
 
 iieo. I tell thee. Jack Cade the clothier means to 
 dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new 
 nap upon it. 
 
 Jotin. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, 
 I say, it was never merry world in England, since 
 gentlemen came up. 
 
 Ceo. O miserable age I Virtue is not regarded in 
 handy crafts-men. 
 
 Julm. The nobility think scorn to go in leather 
 aprons. 
 
 Geo. Nay more, the king's council arc no good 
 workmen. 
 
 .luhn. True; And yet it is said, — Labor in thy 
 vocation: which is as much to say, as, — let the 
 magistrates be laboring men; and therelbre should 
 we be magistrates, 
 
 Geo. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign 
 of a brave mind, than a hard hand. 
 
 Joltn I see them ! I see tlieiii ! There's Best's 
 son, the tanner of Wingham; 
 
 Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies, to 
 make dog's leather of. 
 
 Julin. And Dick the butcher, — • 
 
 Geo. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and 
 initjuify's throat cut like a calf 
 
 Jiiiin. And Smith the weaver. 
 
 Geo. Argo, their thread of life is spun. 
 
 Jolin. Come, come, let's fall in with them. 
 
 Drum. Enter Cade, DfCK ttie Butcher, Smith the 
 Weaver, and utliers in great number. 
 
 Cade. We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed 
 father, 
 
 Dick. Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.' 
 
 [Abide. 
 
 Cade. — for our enemies shall fall before us, in- 
 spired with the spirit of putting down kings and 
 princes, — Command silence. 
 
 Dicti. Silence! 
 
 Cade. Wy father was a Mortimer,— 
 
 Dieli. He was an honest man, and a good brick- 
 layer, [.ihide. 
 
 Cade. My mother a Plantagenet, — 
 
 Die};. I kiiew her well ; she was a midwife. 
 
 {Asidt. 
 
 Cade. My wife descended of fhe^Lacies, — 
 
 Diclx. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and 
 sold many laces. [Aside. 
 
 i^mith. But, now of late, not able to travel with 
 her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Cade. Therefore am I of an honorable house. 
 
 Diek. Ay, by my faith, the field is honorable; 
 And tfiere was he born, under a hedge; fi>r his 
 father liad never a house, but the cage. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. Valiant I am. 
 
 Sniitti. 'A must needs ; for beggary is valiant. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Cade. I am able to endure much. 
 
 Dkk. No tjucstion of that; for I have seen him 
 whipped tliree market days together. [Asiile, 
 
 Cade. I ft^ar neifher sword nor fire. 
 
 Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat 
 is of jiroof. [.-l.s^/e. 
 
 Diek. But, methinks he should stand in tear of 
 fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. 
 
 [A.iide. 
 
 Cade. Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, 
 
 and vows reformation. There shall oe, in England, 
 
 seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny : the thiee- 
 
 hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make 
 
 » A barrel of herrings. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 423 
 
 it felonjf, to drink small beer; all the realm shall be 
 ill common, and in Cheapside shall my palfry ^o 
 to grass. And, when 1 am king, (as king 1 wjU 
 he J 
 
 AIL God save your majesty! 
 
 Cari^. I thank you, ^uod people: — there shall 
 be no money ; all shall eut and drink on my score ; 
 and 1 will apparel Ihem all in one livery, tiiat they 
 may agree like brothers, and worsljip me their lord. 
 
 IJicli. The first thing we do, let's kill all tlie 
 iovvjers. 
 
 Chile. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a 
 lamentable thing, that ol' the skin ol" an innocent 
 lamb should be made parcluncnt ? tiiat parchment 
 being scribbled o'er, should undo a man ? Some 
 say, the bee stings: but I say, 'tirf the bee's wax ; 
 lor I did but seal" once to a thing, and I was never 
 luine own man since. How now ! who's there ] 
 
 Enter some^ brwging in ike Clerk r^' Chatham. 
 
 Snii/h. The clerk otChatJiam: he can write and 
 read, and ca^'t accompt. 
 
 Catif, () monstrous! 
 
 Uniilh. VVe took him setting of boys' copies. 
 
 Cade. Here's a villain ! 
 
 S/iiith. H'asa book in his pocket, with red letters 
 Ln't. 
 
 Cftfle. Nay, tlicn he is a conjurer. 
 
 Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and write 
 courl-liand. 
 
 Ctn/e. 1 am sorry for't : the man is a proper man, 
 on mine honor; unle.-^s I lind him guilty, Jie shall 
 not die, — Come hither, sirrah; 1 must examine 
 thee : What is thy name ! 
 
 Clerk. Emmanuel. 
 
 Dick. They use to write it on the top of letters ; 
 'Twill go hard with you. 
 
 Ca'fe. Let me alonr :— Dost thou use to write 
 thy name I or hast lliou a mark to thyself, like an 
 honest plain-dealing man ! 
 
 Cl'-rk. Sir, I thank (kid, I have been so well 
 brought up. that I can write my name. 
 
 All. He hath conJessed: away with him; he's a 
 villain, and a traitor. 
 
 Cu'ie. Away with him, I say : hang him with his 
 pen and inkliorn about his neck. 
 
 [Exeunt mmt with the Clerk. 
 Enter Michael. 
 
 Mich. Where's our general 1 
 
 Cade. Here I am. thou particular fellow, 
 
 Mich. Fly, fly, fly! sir Humphrey Stalibrd and 
 his brother arc hard by, with the kinji's lorces. 
 
 Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or 1*1! ic'd thee down ; 
 He shall be encountered with a man as good as 
 ium^elf: he is but a knight, is 'a ! 
 
 Mich. No. 
 
 Ca'Ic. To equal him, I will make myself a knight 
 presently; — Rise up, sir John Mortimer. Now 
 hii\o at liim. 
 
 Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford and William 
 his Brother, with Dru/n and Forces, 
 
 Sfaf. Rebellious hinds, the (illli and scum of Kent, 
 Mark'd lor the gallows, — lay your weapons down. 
 Home to your cottages, forsake this groom ;^ 
 Tlie king is merciful, if you revolt. 
 
 (^.^7r//■. But angry, wrathful, and inelin'd to blood, 
 H'you go forward : tlieretbrc yield, or die. 
 
 CV/(/f. As for these silken-coaled slaves, I passnot;' 
 U is lo you, good people. Ihat I speak, 
 O'ei whom, in time to come, 1 hope to reign; 
 For I am rightful heir unto the crown. 
 
 ^7f//. Villain, thy lather was a plasterer; 
 And thou thyself a shearman, Art thou not? 
 
 Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 
 
 »'. Staf. And what of that ! 
 
 Cade. Marry, this: — Edmund Mortimer, carl of 
 Mareii, 
 Married the duke ofClarcnce' daughter; Did he not? 
 
 iS/^{/'. Ay. sir. 
 
 Cude. By her, he had two children at one birth. 
 
 W. Staf. That's false. 
 
 C«f/^'. Ay, there's the question, but, I say, 'tis true; 
 The elder of them, being put to nurse. 
 Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ; 
 And ignorant of his birth and parentage, * 
 Became a bricklayer, when he came to age; 
 His son am I ; deny it. if you can. 
 "* I pay llit-ui no regard. 
 
 Dick. Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be 
 
 king. 
 
 iSmith. Sir. he made a chimney in my fathers 
 house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify 
 it ; therefore ticny it not. 
 
 Sif{f. And will you credit this base drudge's 
 words. 
 That speaKs he knows not what 1 
 
 AIL Ay. marry, will we ; therefore get ye gone. 
 
 IV. Staf.. luck Cade, tJie duke ot York hath taught 
 you this. 
 
 Cade. He lies; for I invented it myself. [Aside. 
 — Go to, sirrah. Tell the king from me, that — 
 for his lather's sake, Henry the FilUi. in whose time 
 boys went to spa^n-countcr for French crowns — I 
 am content he shall reign ; but I'll be protector over 
 him. 
 
 Dick, And, furthermore, we'll have the lord Say's 
 head for selling the dukedom of Mame. 
 
 Cade. And tjood reason ; Ibr thereby is En£;land 
 maimed, and lain to go with a stall' but that my 
 puissance holds it up. Fellow kiui^^s, I tell you, 
 lliat that lord Say halli gelded the cuiniiu)u\vcalth, 
 and made it an eunuch : and more than that, he 
 can sjieak French, and therefore he is a traitor. 
 
 Stf{/'. () gross and miserable ignorance ! 
 
 Caife. Nay, answer if you can: The Frenchmen 
 are our enemies: go to, then, 1 ask but this; Can 
 he, that siH-aks with the tongue of an enemy, be a 
 good counsellor, or no ] 
 
 All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. 
 
 JK.&7^//'.WeIl, seeing gentle words will not prevail, 
 Assail tliem with the army of the king. 
 
 ^7«^. Herald, away; and, tliroughuut every town^ 
 Procluiui them traitors that are up with Cade; 
 That those, which fly belbre the battle ends, 
 Mav, even in their wives' and cliildrcn's sight, 
 lie iiang'd u]) tor example at their doors: 
 And you, timt be the king's friends, follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt the two Stafford^, and Forces. 
 
 Cade. And you, Ih'at love the commons, ibllow 
 me. — 
 Now show yourselves men, 'tis for liberty. 
 We will not leave one lord, one gentleman: 
 Spare none, but such as go in clouted shoon;^ 
 For they are thrifty honest men, and such 
 As would (but that they dare not) take our parts. 
 
 Dick. They are all in order, and uuircJi tovvurd us. 
 
 Cade. But tiien are we in order, wlien we are most 
 out of order. Come, march forward. [F^xeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Another 2)art of \^\^^.'^i\\eiiih. 
 
 Alarums. The two Parties enter and fight, and 
 
 both the Staffouds are slain. 
 
 Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford? 
 
 Dick. Here, sir. 
 
 Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, 
 and thou beliavedst thyself as if thou liadst been in 
 thine own slaughter-house: therelbre thus will I 
 reward thee, — The Lent shall be as long again as 
 it is; and thou shalt have a license to kill for a 
 hundred lacking one. 
 
 Dick. I desire no more. 
 
 Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservcst no less. 
 This monument of the victory will I bear; and the 
 bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels, till I do 
 come to Lon(h)n, wliere we will have the mayor's 
 sword borne before us. 
 
 Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, break 
 open the saols, and let out the prisoners. 
 
 Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's 
 march towards London. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Kiso Hkmiv, reading a Supplicatuni ; the 
 
 Di KK of BfcKiNCHAM and Lord Say ivith him: 
 
 at a distance, {^VEKS Margaret, mourning aver 
 
 Slffolk's Head. 
 
 Q. Ma?: Oft have I heard— that grief softens the 
 mind, 
 And makes it fejyful and degenerate; 
 Think therelbre on revenge, and cease to weep. 
 But who can cease to weep, and look en this ] 
 Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast: 
 But Where's the body that I should cmbiace ? 
 
 Buck. What answer makes your grace to the 
 rebels' supplication ? 
 
 > Shoes. 
 
424 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 K. Heyi. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat : 
 Fnr God Ibrbid, so many simple souls 
 Sliould perish by the sword ! And I myself, 
 Bather than bloody war .should eut them short, 
 AVill parley willi Jack Cade their general. — 
 But stay. Til read it over onec agam. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely 
 face 
 Rul'd. like a wanderin°; planet, over me ; 
 And could it not enlbrce them to relent, 
 Th:it were unwortliy to behold the same 1 
 
 A'. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have 
 thy head. 
 
 Say. Ay. but I hope, your highness shall have his. 
 
 K. Jiff}. How now, madam! Still 
 Lamenting, and mournmg fot Sullolk's death 1 
 I lear, my love, it that 1 had been dead, 
 Thou wouldest not have mourn 'd so much for me. 
 
 Q. Mar. My love, I should not mourn, but die 
 lor thee. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 K. Ilcfi. How now I what news 1 why com*st 
 thou in sueh hasle 1 
 
 Mess. Therebelsarein Southwark; Fly, my lord! 
 Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer, 
 Descended from the duke of Clarence' house: 
 And calls your grace usurper, openly, 
 And vows lo crown himself in Westminster. 
 His army is a ragged multitude 
 (If liimls and pcitMints, rude and merciless; 
 Sir Humphrey Slaliurd and his brc'ihei's death 
 Hatli giv<'n iliem heart and courage to proceed: 
 All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, 
 TJiey call — liilse caterpillars, and intend their 
 death. 
 
 A'. Jlen. O graceless men ! they know not what 
 they do. 
 
 Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Kenelworth, 
 Uiitil a power be rais'd to put them down. 
 
 Q, Mar. Ah ! were thedukeof Sullolk now alive. 
 These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd. 
 
 A'. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, 
 Tlicrelbre away with us to Kenelworth. 
 
 Sfit/. So might your grace's person be in danger; 
 The sight of me is odious in their eyes: 
 And thereibre in this city will I stay, 
 And live alone as secret as I may. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge ; 
 the citizens 
 Fly and tbrsake their houses : 
 TJie rascal people, thirsting afler prej', 
 Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear, 
 To spoil the city, and your royal court. 
 
 Buck. Then linger not, my lord ; away, take horse. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will 
 succor us. 
 
 Q. Mar. J\Iy liopeisgone.now SutTolkisdcceas'd. 
 
 A. Hen. Farewell, my lord; [7bLouD Sav.] trust 
 not the Kentish rebels. 
 
 Biiek. Trust nobody, tor fear you I>e betray'd. 
 
 Sut/. The trust I have is in mine innocence, 
 And thereibre am I bold and resolute. [Exeunt.] 
 
 SCENE y.~The Tower. 
 
 Efiter LoitD Scall:s, and others, on the Walls. 
 
 Then enter certain Citizens, below. 
 
 Scales. How now! is Jack Cade slain ! 
 
 1 at. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain ; for 
 they have won tlie bridge, killmg ail those tliat 
 wittistand them: The lord mayor craves aid of 
 your honor tfom the Tower, todeiend the city from 
 tne rebel 5. 
 
 Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall com- 
 mand ; 
 But I am troubled here with them myself. 
 The iL'bels have assay'd to win Ihc Tower. 
 But get you to SnntlitieUI, and gather head, 
 And tliliher 1 will send you Matthew Gough : 
 Fight lor your king, your country, and your lives; 
 And so iaiewell, lor 1 must hence again. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— Cannon Street. 
 
 Enter Jack Cauk, arid hUi Followers. He strikes 
 
 his StijJ]' on Linidon-stone. 
 
 Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And 
 here, .sitting upon London-stone, I charge and 
 command, that of the city's cost, the pissing-con- 
 duit run nolhnig but claret wine this first year of 
 our reign. And now, hencclbrward, it shall be 
 
 treason for any that calls me other than — lord 
 Mortimer. 
 
 Enter a Soldier, running. 
 
 Sntfl Jack Cade ! Jack Cade ! 
 
 Cade. Knock him down there. [They kill him, 
 
 S/nilh. It' this lidlow be wise, he'll never esdl 
 you Jack Cade more; I think he hath a very fail 
 warning. 
 
 Hiek. My lord, there's an army gathered together 
 in Smithtield. 
 
 Cacfe. Come then, let's go fight with them : Ud*,, 
 first, go and set London-bridge on tire ; and it >ou 
 can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let's away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VIL— Smithfield. 
 Alarum. Enter, on one side. Cade and his Com' 
 
 painj; i/n the other^ Citizens, and {he King's 
 
 Forces, headed by Matthew Gough. Theyjight; 
 
 the Citizens are routed, and Matthew Gough is 
 
 stain. 
 
 Cade. So, sirs:— Now go some and pull down 
 the Savoy ; others to the inns of court ; down with 
 them all. 
 
 Hick. I have a suit unto your lordship. 
 
 Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that 
 word. 
 
 Hick. Only that the laws of England may come 
 out of your mouth. 
 
 Jo/in. Mass, 'twill be sore law, then; for he was 
 thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not 
 whole yet. [Asifie. 
 
 Smifh. Nay, John, it will be stinking law; lor 
 his breath slinks with eating toasted cheese. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Cade. I have thought upon it; it shall be so. 
 Away, burn all tlierecordsof the realm; my mouth 
 shall be the parliament of England. 
 
 John. Then we are like to iiave biting statutes, 
 unless his tentti be jiulled out. [A,\ide. 
 
 Cade. And hencelbrward all things shall be in 
 common. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here's tfio lord 
 Say, which sold the towns in France ; he that made 
 us pay one and twenty lifteens,^ and one shilling 
 to the pound, the last subsidy. 
 
 Enter Geouoe Bevis, tvith the Lord Sat. 
 
 Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times, 
 — Ah, thou say,-* thou serge, nay, thou buckram 
 lord! now art thou within point-blank of our juris- 
 diction regal. What canst thou answer to my ma- 
 jesty, for giving up of Normandy unto monsicr 
 Basimecu, the dauphin of France] Be it known 
 unto tiiee by these presence, even the presence of 
 lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must 
 sweej] the court clean of such filth as thou art. — 
 TIiou haiit most traitorously corrupted tlie youth 
 of the realm, in erecting a grammar-scliooi : and 
 whereas, belbre,our fore-iathershad no other books 
 but the score and the tally, thou hast caused print- 
 ing to be used ; and, contrary to the king. Ins crow n 
 and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will 
 be proved to thy face, that thou hast men about 
 thee, that usually talk of a noun, and a verb ; and 
 such abominable words, as no Christian ear can 
 endure to hfur. Thou hast appointed justices of 
 peace, to call poor men belbre them about matters 
 tliey wt're not able to answer. Moreover, thou liast 
 put them in prison, and because they could not 
 read,'' tliou hast hanged them ; when, indeed, only 
 for that cause they have been most worthy to 
 live. Thou dost ride on a lbot-cloth,t' dost thou 
 not] 
 
 Say. What of that] 
 
 Cade. I\larry, thou oughtest not to let tliy horse 
 wear a cloak, when honester men tJian thou go in 
 their hose and doublets. 
 
 Hick. And work in their shirt, too; as myself, 
 for example, that am a butcher. 
 
 Say. You men of Kent, — 
 
 Hiik. What say you of Kent ] 
 
 3 A tjfteen was the fift(?entb p.irt of all the movables or 
 personal property of each sul:juct. 
 
 * Say was a kiu-l of sergR. 
 
 B i.e. Because th-yc^uid iiotclaim the benefit of cltrpy. 
 
 « A kind of houtiu;; which covertid the body of tho 
 horse. 
 
Scene VIII. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 425 
 
 gCII 
 
 L 
 
 Sail. Notliing but this: Tis Oonu terra, mala 
 ei>f\. 
 
 Cdile. Awaywiili him, away with him! lie speaks 
 Latin. 
 Sai/. Hear me but speak, and bear me where 
 you will. 
 Kent, in tlie commentaries Ca}sar writ, 
 Is term'd the civil'st place in all this isle : 
 Sweet is the country, because full of riches; 
 The peoplcliberal, valiant, active, wealthy ; 
 Which liiakcs mc hope you are not void of pity. 
 I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy; 
 Yet to recover them, would lose my lile. 
 Justice witli lavor have I always done; 
 Pra)i'rsauU tears have mov'd mc, gitls could never. 
 Wlien have I aught exacted at your hands, 
 Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you 7 
 Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, 
 liecause my book prcferr'd me to the king : 
 And— seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
 Kncjwiedge the wing wherewith we lly to heaven. 
 Unless \ ou be possess'd with devihsh spirits, 
 You canniit but Ibrbcar to murder me. 
 This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings 
 i'or your behoof, — 
 
 Cuile. Tut I when struck'st thou one blow in the 
 field ! 
 
 &'«//. Great men have reaching hands: oft have 
 I struck 
 Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. 
 6'ra. O monstrous coward! what, to come behind 
 
 folks ? 
 Say. These cheelisare pale for watching for your 
 
 good. 
 Cade. Give him a box o' the ear, and that will 
 make em red again. 
 
 Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes 
 Ilatii made me full of sickness and diseases. 
 
 Caik. Ye shall have a liempen caudle then, and 
 the pa]i Ola hatchet. 
 Hick. Why dost thou quiver, man ? 
 Sui/. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh me. 
 ^ Ca.le. Nay, he nods at us ; as who should say,— 
 I II be even with you. I'll see if his head will stand 
 steadier on a pole, or no : Take him away, and 
 behead him. 
 
 Sai/. Tell me, wherein I have olTended most ? 
 Have I all; cted wealth, or honor ; speak ! 
 Are my chests lill'd up with extorted gold! 
 Is my apparel sumptuous to behold ! 
 Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death? 
 These hands arc liee from guiltless blood-shed- 
 ding," 
 This breast from harboring foul deceitful thoughts. 
 O, let me live! 
 
 CV'/f. I feel remorse in mj-self with his words: 
 but 1 II bridle it; he shall die, an it be but lor 
 pleading so well for his lile. Away with him! he 
 has a lamiliar-i under his tongue ; he speaks not 
 o (Jod s name. Go, take him away, I say, and 
 strike olf his head presently; and then break into 
 his sim-in-Iaw's house, sir James Cromer, andstrike 
 oil Ins head, and bring them both upon two poles 
 hither. 
 All. It shall be done. 
 
 Saij. Ah, countrymen ! if, when you make your 
 prayers, 
 Ood should be so obdurate as yourselves. 
 How would it fiire with your (departed souls? 
 And thcrelbre yet relent, and save my lile. 
 
 Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye. 
 _, J [Exeunt some Willi Lord Skw 
 
 ■Ihe proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a 
 liead on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; 
 Ihcrc shall not a maid be married, but she shall 
 l>ay to me her maidenhead ere they have it : Men 
 shall hold of me in cajiite ; and we charge and 
 command, that their wives be as ftee as heart can 
 wish, or loiigue can tell. 
 
 IJiek. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, 
 and lake up commodities upon our bills ! 
 Carle. Marry, presently. 
 AU. brave ! 
 
 Jlc-enlcr Rebels, with the Hearts of Lord Say a/id 
 hi-t Srm-in-taw. 
 Carle. But is not this braver?— Let them kiss 
 ■» !. c. SheUduig guiltle.^s blood. 
 « A djmou wb'o was supposed to atlind .it rail. 
 
 one another, for they loved well, when they were 
 ahve. Now part tliem again, lest they consult 
 about the giving upof some more towns in France. 
 Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night : for 
 with these borne before us, instead of maces, will 
 " ".."i'i"_'J"',''"Sh ";c streets ; and, at every corner, 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 have them kiss. — Away I 
 
 SCENE VIII.— South wark. 
 
 Alarum. Enter Cade, and all Ms Rabhlement. 
 
 Carle. Up Fish-street! down Saint Magnus' 
 corner! kill and knockdown! throw them into 
 Thames !— [^ Parley .tuunded, thtn. a Rrtreat.^ 
 What noise is this 1 hear '. Dare any be so bold to 
 sound retreat or parley,when I command them kill ? 
 
 Enter Buckingham and old Clifford, wilh Frrrccs. 
 
 Buck. Ay, here they be that dare and will dis- 
 turb thee: 
 Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king 
 Unto the commons, whom thou hast misled ; 
 And here pronounce free pardon to them all, 
 That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. 
 
 Ctif. What say ye, countrymen ? will ye relent, 
 And yield to mercy, whilst 'lis oller'd you; 
 Or let a rabble lead jou to your deaths .' 
 Wlio loves the king, and w"ill embrace his pardon. 
 Fling up his cap, and say— (Jod sa\e his majesty ! 
 Who hateth him, and honors not his lather, 
 Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake. 
 Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by. 
 All. God save the king ! (iod save the king ! 
 Caitc. What, Buckingbain. and Clillbrd, are ye 
 so brave?- ,\nd you, Ira.-e peasants, do ye believe 
 him ? will you needs be li.inged with yoiir pardons 
 about your necks ! Hath uiy sword therefore broke 
 through London gates, that you should leave me 
 at the White Hart in Southwark .' I thought, ye 
 would never have given out these arms, till you 
 had recovered your ancient freedom ; but you are 
 all recreants, and dastards; and delight to live in 
 slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs 
 with burdens, take your houses over your heads, 
 ravish your wives and daughters before your tiices : 
 For mc. — I will make shill lor one ; and so — God's 
 curse 'light upon you all ! 
 All. We'll toUow Cade, we'll follow Cade. 
 Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, 
 That thus you do exclaim— you'll go with him? 
 Will he conduct you through the heart of France, 
 And make the meanest of you earls and dukes! 
 Alas, he halh no home, no place to lly to; 
 Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil. 
 Unless by robbing of your friends, and us. 
 Were't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, 
 Tlie fearful French, whom you late vaiupiisbed. 
 Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you ? 
 Methinks, already, in this civil broil, 
 I see them lording it in London streets. 
 Crying— riZ/a^'f (lis.' unto all they meet. 
 Better, ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry. 
 Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. 
 To France, to France, and get w hat you have lost ; 
 Spare England, lor it is your native coast ; 
 Henry hath money, you are strong and manly : 
 God on our side, doubt not ot' victory. 
 
 All. A Clillbrd! a Chllord ! we'll ibllow the kinsr 
 and Clillbrd. ° 
 
 Carle. Was ever (ealhei so lightly blown to and 
 fro, as this multitude ! the name of Henry the 
 Filth hales them to an hundred mischiels, and 
 makes them leave me desolale. I see thein lay 
 their heads together, to surprize me: my sword 
 make way lor me, for here is no staying. — In de- 
 spite of the devils and hell, have through the very 
 mid.st of you ! and heavens and honor be witness, 
 that no want of resolution in me, but only my 
 Ibllowers' base and igiiomiiuous treasons, niakes 
 nie betake me to my heels. ' [lu-tt. 
 
 Buck. What, is lie tied ! go, some, and lollovv 
 him. 
 And he, that brings his head unlo the king. 
 Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. — 
 
 [Exeunt some rf ikem. 
 Follow me, soldiers ; we II devise a mean 
 To reconcile you all unto the king. 
 
 [E.veunt. 
 
426 
 
 SECOND PAET OF 
 
 Act. IV. Scene X 
 
 SCENE IX.— Kenel worth Castle. 
 Enter King Henuy, Queen Margaiiet, and 
 SoMEHSET, (m the Terrace of the Castle. 
 K. Hen. Was ever Icing that joy'd an earthly 
 throne, 
 And could command no more content than 11 
 No sooner was I crept out of my cradle, 
 But I was made a king at nine months old : 
 Was never subject long'd to he a kini^, 
 As I do long and wisli to iie a subject. 
 
 Enter BrCKiNGHAM 07?rf Clifford. 
 Buclx. Health, and glad tidings, to your mnjesty! 
 K. Hen. Wliy. iUickingham, is tlie traitor, Cade, 
 
 surpris'd ? 
 Or -is he but retir'd to make him strong 1 
 
 Enter, hehw, a great vumher of Cadic^s Fullow- 
 erfi, with Halters about their JS'tcks. 
 Clif. He's tied, my lord, and all his powers do 
 yield; 
 And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, 
 Expect your highness' doom of life, or death. 
 K. Hen. Tlien, heaven, set opo tliy everlasting 
 gates 
 To entertain my vovps of thanks and praise ! 
 Soldiers, this day have you redecm'd your lives. 
 And sliow'd liow well you love your prijice and 
 
 country : 
 Continue still in this so good a mind. 
 And Henry, though he be inlortunate, 
 Assflii- yoiirselves, will never be unkind : 
 Anil Ml, 'with thanks and pardon to you all, 
 1 do ilisiiiiss you to your several countries. 
 Alt. God save the idng ! God save tlic king ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mef^s. Please it your grace to be advt^-rtised, 
 The duke of York is newly come from Ireland: 
 And with a puissant, and a iniglily power, 
 Of gallowglasses, and stout kernes,^ 
 Is marching hltherward in proud array ; 
 And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, 
 His arms are only to remove from thee 
 The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. 
 
 K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and 
 York distress'd : 
 Like to a siiip, that, having 'scaped a tempest, 
 Is straiglitway calm'd and boarded with a pirate : 
 But now' is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd; 
 And now is York in arms to secoiul him. — 
 I prny thee. Buckiui^haiu. go Ibrtli and meet him; 
 And ask him. uliat's tlie reason of these arms. 
 Tell liim, I'll send duke Edmund to the Tower; — 
 And. Somerset, we will commit thee thither, 
 Until his army be dismiss'd iiom him. 
 
 .So?/;. My loVd, 
 I'll yield myself to prison willingly. 
 Or unto death, to do my country good. 
 
 A*. Hen. In any case, be not too roniih in tornK; 
 For he is fierce, and cannot hrook hard language. 
 
 Bucfc. I will, my lord ; and doubt not so to deal, 
 As ali things should redound unto your good. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern 
 better; 
 For y€t may England curse my wretched reign. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE X.— Kent. Iden's Garden, 
 Etifer Cade, 
 
 Carle. Fye on ambition! fye on myself; that 
 have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! These 
 hve days have I hid me in these woods; and durst 
 not pt'cp out. for all the country is lay'd tor me; 
 hut now am I so hungry, that if I might have a 
 lease of my lite lur a thousand years. I could stay 
 no longer. Wherefare, on a "brick-wall have I 
 climbed nito this garden ; to see if I can eat grass, 
 or I'lek a sallet another while, which is not amiss 
 to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And, I 
 thnik. this word sallet was born to do me good: 
 Ibr, many a time, but for a sallet,* my brain-pan 
 
 » TwD ordorsof foot soliliers among the Iri^h, 
 
 ' Only just uow. a A kiud ol helmet. 
 
 had been cleft with a brown bill; and, many a 
 time, when I had been dry, and bravely march- 
 ing, it hath served me instead of a quart-jKit to 
 drink in; and now the word sallet must serve me 
 to feed on. 
 
 Enter Iden, ivifh Sei-vants. 
 
 Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the 
 court, 
 And may rnjoy such quiet walks as these? 
 This small inheritance, my liither left me, 
 Contenteth me. and is worth a monarchy. 
 I seek not to wax great by others' waning ; 
 Or gather wealth, \ care not with what envy; 
 Sutiieeth, that I have maintains my state. 
 And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. 
 
 Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize 
 me for a stray, (or entering his fee-simple without 
 leave. Ah. vtilam. thou wilt betray me, and get 
 a thousand crowns of the king for carryin;; my 
 head to him; but I'll make thee eat iionlikean 
 ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin 
 ere thou and I part, 
 
 Iden. Why, rude companion. whatsoe'erthou be. 
 I know' thee not; why then should I betray theel 
 Is't not enougli, to break into my garden, 
 And. like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, 
 Climbing my walls in spite of me, the owner. 
 But thou wilt brave mc with these saucy terms'? 
 
 Cade. Brave thee? ay, by the best blood that 
 ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on 
 me well: 1 have eat no meat these five days; yet, 
 come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave 
 you all as dead as a door-nail, I pray God, I may 
 never eat grass more. 
 Iden. Nay. let it ne'er be said while England 
 stands. 
 That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
 Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. 
 Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine. 
 See if Ihou canst outlace me with thy looks. 
 Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser ; 
 Thy hand is but a tingcr to my tist ; 
 Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon ; 
 My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; 
 And if mine arm be heaved in the air, 
 Thy grave is digged alrcad}- in the earth. 
 As for more words, whose greatness answer:* 
 
 words, 
 Let this my sword report what speech forbears. 
 
 Cade. By my valor, the most comjjlete champion 
 that ever \ Jicard, — Steel, if thou turn the edge, ot 
 cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of 
 beef ere thou sleep in thy sheatli. I beseech God 
 on my knees, thou may'st be turnetl to hobnails. 
 [The 1/ fight. Cade falls.] 0, I am slain! famine, 
 and no other, hath slain me; let ten thousand 
 devils come against me. and give me but the ten 
 meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, 
 garden : and he henceforth a burying-place to all 
 that do dwell in this house, because the unconquer- 
 ed soul of Cade is lied. 
 Iilen. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous 
 traitor] 
 Sword, I will Iiallow thee for this thy deed. 
 And hang thee oVr my tomb when I am dead : 
 Ne'er shall this idood be wiped from thy point; 
 But thou shtflt wear it as a herald's coat. 
 To emblaze the honor tiiat thy master got. 
 
 Cade. Iden, liirewell ; and be proud of thy vic- 
 tory : Tell Kent from me. she hath lost her best 
 man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for 
 I. that never teared any, am vanquished by famine, 
 not by valor. [Dies* 
 
 Iden. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be 
 my judge. 
 Die, damned wretch, the curse of hei that bare 
 
 thee! 
 And as I thrust thy hody in with my sword, 
 So wish I. 1 might thrust thy soul to hell. 
 Hence will I drat; tliee headlong by the heels 
 Unto a dunghill, which shall he thy grave. 
 And there cut oft thy most ungracious head; 
 Which I will bear in triumph to the king, 
 Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. 
 
 [Exit, dragsi^'^S ^^'^ '^^ Bodi/ 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 427 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Near Saint Alban's. 
 T/ie Xing's Camp on one side. On the fifker, enter 
 YoKK u/lenile'l, wi/h Drum imd Colors : his For- 
 ces at some distance. 
 
 York. Kroni Irclaiul thus comes York, to claim 
 liis ritjlit, 
 And filucli the crown from feeble Henry's liead 
 King, bells, aloml ; burn, bouHres, clearund bright, 
 To enlertain Kreat Englajid's lawlul king. 
 All. iaiu'ta majista.s.' who wouJd not buy thee dear? 
 Lcl ilioiii ohej , [hat know not how to rule ! 
 This band was made to handle nought but gold: 
 I eaiuiot give due action to my words, 
 Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it. 
 A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul ; 
 On which I'll toss the tlowcr-de-luce of France. 
 
 Enter nrCKiNciiAM. 
 Whom have wchcre? liiickingham, to disturb me. 
 The king hath sent him, sure ; 1 Tuust dissemble. 
 Back. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee 
 
 well. 
 York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy 
 greeting. 
 Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure 1 
 
 Back. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege. 
 To know the reason of these arms in peace; ' 
 Or why, thou — being a subject as I am — 
 Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, 
 .Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave, 
 Or dare to brnig thy force so near the court. 
 York. Source can I speak, my choler is ^ 
 so great, 
 0, 1 could how up rocks, and tight with 
 
 tlint, 
 I am so angry at these abject terms ; 
 And now, liko Ajax Telaliionius, 
 On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury ! 'f Aside. 
 1 am tar better born than is the king; 
 More like a king, more kingly in my 
 
 lhought.s: 
 But I must make fair weatheryct awhile. 
 Till Henry be more weak, and I more 
 strong. — 
 
 Buckinghahi, I pr'ythee, pardon me. 
 That I have given no answer all this while ; 
 My mmd was troubled with deep melancholy. 
 The cause why 1 have brought this army hitlier, 
 Is— to remove proud Somerset from llie kuig. 
 Seditious to his grace, and to the state. 
 
 Buck. That is too much presumption on thy 
 part : 
 But if thy arms be to no other end, 
 The king halh yielded unto thy demand ; 
 The duke of Somerset is in the Tower. 
 
 Y")A-. Upon tliine honor, is he prisoner? 
 
 Back. Upon mine honor, he is prisoner. 
 
 Ywk. Then Buckingham, I do dismiss my 
 powers. — 
 Soldiers, I thank you all ; disperse yourselves; 
 Meet me to-morrow in Saint (Jeorge's field 
 You shall have pay, and every thing you wish. 
 And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, 
 t'ommand my eldest son,— nay, all my sons 
 As pledges of my fealty and love, 
 
 1 II send them alias willing as I live; 
 Lands, goods, horse, armor, any thing I have 
 Is his to use, so Somerset may die. 
 
 hack. York, I commend this kind submission: 
 V\ e twain wdl go into his highness' tent. 
 En/er Kisii HEXuy, attended. 
 A llc7i. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm 
 to us. 
 That thus he maichelh with thee arm in arm ! 
 
 York, luallsnl ssion and humility, • 
 
 Y'ork dolh inesiiii himself unto your highness 
 A.Ihii. Then what intend these Ibices thou dost 
 
 bring! 
 I'lrk. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence- 
 And hght against that monstrous rebel. Cade 
 Who since 1 heard to be discomfited. 
 
 Enter Iden, ivit/i Cade's Head. 
 Men. If one so rude, and of so mean condition, 
 
 May pass into the presence of a king, 
 Lo, 1 prcseiyt your grace a traitor's head, 
 The head ot Cade, whom I in combat slew. 
 
 K. Hen. The head of Cade !— Great God, how 
 just art thou ! — 
 O, let me view his visage being dead. 
 That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. 
 Tell me, my iricnd, art thou the man that slew 
 him ! 
 
 Iden. I was, an't like your m.^jesty. 
 
 K. Hen. How art thou call'd ! and what is thy 
 degree? 
 
 Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name; 
 A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. 
 
 Buck. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not 
 amiss 
 He were created knight for his good service. 
 
 A'. Hen. Iden, kneel down: [He kneels.] Rise 
 up a knight. 
 We give thee lor reward a thousand marks; 
 And will, that thou bencelorth attend on us. 
 
 Iden. May Iden live lo merit such a bounty, 
 And never live but true unto his Uege ! 
 
 K. Hen. See, Buckingham! Somerset comes with 
 the queen ; 
 Go, bid her hide him quicldy from the duke. 
 Enter Qi-een IMahcaret and Somekset. 
 
 Q. Mar. For thousand Yorlcs he shall not hide 
 his head, 
 But boldly stand, and front him to his face. 
 
 York. How now! Is Somerset at liberty! 
 Then, York, unloose thylong-imprison'd thoughts. 
 And lei thy longue be equal with thy heart. 
 Shall 1 endure the sight of Somerset ?— 
 Kalseking! why hast thou broken fiiith willi me. 
 Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse ! 
 King did I call thee ! no, thou art not king ; 
 Not lit to govern and rule multitudes, 
 Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. 
 That head of thine doth not become a crown; 
 Thy hand is made to grasji a palmer's stall. 
 And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. 
 That gold must round engirt these brows of mine; 
 Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, 
 Is able with the change to kill and cure. 
 Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up. 
 And with the same to act controlling laws. 
 Give place; by heaven, thou shalt rule no more 
 
 er bim, whom heaven created tor thy ruler. 
 Sinn. O monstrous traitor!— I arrest thee, York, 
 
 Of cajiital treason 'gainst the. king and crown : 
 Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. 
 York. Wouldst have me kneel ? tirst let me ask 
 ofthe.se. 
 If they can brook I bow a knee to man.— 
 Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail. 
 
 ['E.eit an Attendant. 
 
 1 know, ere they will have me go to ward,» 
 They'll pawn their swords for my onfranchisc- 
 
 meiit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Call hither Clillbrd ; bid him come 
 amain. 
 To say. if that the bastard boys of York 
 Shall be the surety tiir their traitor father. 
 
 York. O blood-besjiotted Neapolitan, 
 Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge ! 
 The sons of York, thy lietlers in their birth. 
 Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those 
 That for my surety will refuse the boys. 
 
 Enter Edward and RiciiAnn Plantagexet, untti 
 
 I'(n-ces. nn one side ; at tite vtlter, wUli Forces 
 
 aim, old Clifford, and liis Hon. 
 
 See, where they come; I'll warrant they'll make 
 
 it good. 
 
 Q. ii;«r. And here comes CliQbrd, to deny their 
 
 bail. 
 Ctif. Health and all happiness to my lord the 
 Ji'iiK-' [Kneels, 
 
 iork. I thank thee, Clillbrd: Say, what news 
 with thee? 
 Nay, do not fright us with an angry look: 
 
 ' Custoiiy, confiuemeut. 
 
428 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 We are thy sovereign, Clinbrd, kneel again ; 
 For thy mistaliing so, we pardon thee. 
 
 Clif. Tliis is my king. York, I do not mistake; 
 But thou mistaU'st me mueh, to tliink I do ; — 
 To Bedlam with liim ! is the man grown mad 1 
 
 A'. Hen. Ay, Clitibrd; a bedlam and ambitious 
 humor 
 Makes him oppose himself against his King. 
 
 Clif, He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, 
 And'chop away that tactions pate of his. 
 
 Q. Mar. lie is arrested, but will not obey ; 
 His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. 
 
 York. Will you not, sons 1 
 
 Eiiw. Ay, noble liither, if our words will serve. 
 
 Ukh. And if words will not, then our weapons 
 shall. 
 
 Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we 
 here .' 
 
 Yitrk. Look in a glass, and call thy image so; 
 I am thy king, and thou a lalse-heart traitor. — 
 Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,-" 
 Tiiat, with the very shaking of their chains, 
 They may astonish tliese icW lurking curs; 
 Bid Salisbu/y, and Warwick, come to me. 
 
 Drums. Enter Warwick and Salisbukv, with 
 Forces. 
 
 Clif. Are these thy bears'! we'll bait thy bears 
 to death. 
 And manacle the bcar-ward> in their chains, 
 if tlioudar'st bring them to the baiting-place. 
 
 Itic/i. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur 
 Run back and bite, because he was withheld ; 
 Wlio, being sufler'd with the bear's fell paw, ^ 
 Halh clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cry d : 
 And such a piece of service will you do. 
 If jou oppose yourselves to matcli lord Warwick. 
 
 Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, tool indigested lump, 
 As crooked in thy manners as thy shape ! 
 
 Yurlt. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. 
 
 Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn 
 yourselves. 
 
 K. Ile'n. Why. Warwick, hath thy knee forgot 
 to l)OW I — 
 Old Salisbury.— shame to thy silver hair. 
 Thou mad niisleader of thy brain-sick son !— 
 What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian. 
 And seek lor sorrow with thy spectacles ! 
 O, where is faith ? O, where is loyalty? 
 If it be banish'd from the frosty head. 
 Where shall it Hnd a harbor in the earth ! 
 Wdt thou go dig a grave to find out war, 
 And shame thine honorable age wilh blood l 
 Why art thou old, and want'st experience ! 
 Or wherelbre dost abuse it, if thou hast it 1 
 For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me. 
 That bows unto the gra.ve wi'th micklc age. 
 
 Sal. My lord, I have consider'd with myself 
 The title of this most renowned duke ; 
 And ill my conscience do repute his grace 
 The rightful heir to England's royal seat. 
 
 K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto 
 me 1 
 
 Sal. I have. 
 
 A'. Hen. Canst thou dispense witli heaven for 
 such an oath] 
 
 Sal. It is great sin, to swear unto a sin; 
 But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath. 
 Who can be bound by any solemn vow 
 To do a murderous deed, to rob a man. 
 To Ibrce a spotless virgin's chastity. 
 To reave the orijhan of his patrimony. 
 To wring the widow from her custom'd right ; 
 .\nd have no other reason tor this wrong, 
 Jiut tliat he was bound by a solemn oath 1 
 
 Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no soi)hister. 
 
 K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm 
 himself. 
 
 York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou 
 hast, 
 I am resolv'd for death or dignity. 
 
 Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove 
 true. 
 
 War. You were best to go to bed, and dream 
 again. 
 To keep thee from the tempest of llie field. 
 
 Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater s torm, 
 
 « Tb« NVvils. t-arls of W:uwi. k. had a bear and ragged 
 Blatr fjr thdr crest. • Bear-kecpBr. 
 
 Tlian any thou canst conjure up to-day; 
 
 Aufi that I'll write upon thy burgonet,« 
 
 Might I but know thee by thy household badge. 
 
 rt'ur. Now, by my father's badge, old NevU's 
 crest. 
 The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, 
 This day I'll wear alolt my burgonet, 
 (As on a mountain-top the cedar shows. 
 That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,) 
 Even to alTright thee with the view 'thereof 
 
 Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear, 
 And'tread it under loot with all contempt. 
 Despite the bear-ward that protects tlie Itear. 
 
 Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father. 
 To quell the rebels, and their 'complices. 
 
 Rich. Fie! charity, for shame! speak not inspite, 
 For you shall sup witli Jesu Christ to-night. 
 
 Y. Clif. Foul stigniatic,' that's more than thou 
 canst tell. 
 
 Rlc/i. If not ill heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. 
 [Exeunt seveially. 
 
 SCENE II.— Saint Alban's. 
 Akirums: Excursions. Enter Warwick. 
 War. Clifibrd ofCuniberland, 'tis Warwick calls! 
 And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear. 
 Now*, — when the angry trumpet sounds alarm, 
 And dead men's cries'do till ttie empty air. — 
 Clillbrd, I say, come Ibrth and fight with me ! 
 Proud nortfiern lord, Clilford of Cumberland, 
 Warwick is hoarse wilh calling thee to arms. 
 
 Enter York. 
 How now. my noble lord ? what, all a-foot 1 
 
 York. Thcdeadly-handed Clillbrd slewmysteed; 
 But match to match 1 have encountcr'd liim. 
 And made a prey lor carrion kites and c/ows, 
 Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well. 
 
 Enter Clifford. 
 War. Of one or both of us the time is come. 
 York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other 
 chase. 
 For I my.self must hunt this deer to death. 
 
 War. Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown tiiou 
 fight'st.— 
 As I intend, Clitibrd, to thrive to-day. 
 It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. 
 
 \_ExU Warwick. 
 Clif. What scest thou in me, York ! why dost 
 
 thou pause ? 
 York. With thy brave bearing should I be in love, 
 But that thou art so fast mine enemy. 
 Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise and 
 esteem. 
 But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason. 
 
 York. So let it hel]) me now against thy sword. 
 As I injustice and true right exjiress it! 
 Clif. RIy soul and body on the action both !— 
 York. A dreadful lay !' — address tiiee instantly. 
 [They fight, and ChiFFORV falls. 
 Clif. La fin couronne 'les auvres. [Hies. 
 
 York. Tlius war liath given thee peace, for thou 
 art still. 
 Peace with his soul. Heaven, if it be thy will ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Young Clifford. 
 Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout ! 
 Fear fiames disorder, and disorder wounds 
 W^liere it should guard. O war, thou son of hell 
 AVhom angry heavens do make their minister, 
 Throw in tlie trozeii bosoms of our part 
 Hot coals of vengeance; — Let no soldier fly: 
 He that is truly dedicate to war, 
 Hath no sclf-ldvc; nor he that loves himself. 
 Hath not essentially, but by circumstanee, 
 The name of valor. — 0, let tlie vile world end, 
 
 [Seein.s: his dead Father. 
 And the premised'^ (lames of the last day 
 Knit ?arth and heaven together! 
 Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, 
 Particularities and petty sounds 
 To cease ! — Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, 
 
 • Helmet. 
 
 1 One on whom nature has set a mark of deformity, a 
 stigma, 
 e A flreadful wager, a tremendous stake. 
 
 • Sent before their time. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 429 
 
 To lose thy j outli in peace, and to achieve 
 
 The silver liverj- oi advised age; 
 
 And in thy reference, and thy chair-days, thus 
 
 To die in ruffian battle?— Even at this sight. 
 
 My heart is tiirn'd to stone; and, while 'tis mine, 
 
 It shall be stony. YorJi not our old men spares ; 
 
 No more will I their babes : tears virginal 
 
 Shall be to me even as the dew to lire ; 
 
 And beauty, that the tyrant olt reclaims. 
 
 Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. 
 
 Hencetorth, I will not have to do with pity : 
 
 Meet I an inl'ant ol'the Jiouse of York, 
 
 Into as many gobbets will I cut it. 
 
 As wild Medea young Absyrtus did: 
 
 In cruelty will I seek out my fame. 
 
 Come, thou new ruin of old Clilibrd's house ; 
 
 [ Taking up the Body. 
 As did Jilneas old Anchises bear. 
 So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; 
 But then .•'Eneas bare a living load. 
 Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Richard Plaxtagexet and i>mw.u%w:, fight- 
 ing, and Somerset is kilted. 
 Rich. So, lie thou there; — 
 For, underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, 
 Tlic Castle in Saint Alban's, Somerset 
 Hath mode the wizard lamous in his death. — 
 Sword, hold thy temper: heart, be wrathful still: 
 Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit. 
 
 Alarums: Excursions. in/crKixGllESRY, Qlten 
 MAncAKET, and others, retreating. 
 Q. Mar. Away, my lord! you are slow; for 
 
 shatiio, away ! 
 K.Hen. Can we outrun the heavens? good Mar- 
 garet, stay. 
 Q. Mur.-\\ha.l are you made of? you'll not fight, 
 nor lly : 
 Now is it manliood, wisdom, and defence. 
 To give the enemy way : and to secure us 
 By w^iiat we can, which can no more but fly. 
 
 {Atarunt afar off. 
 If you be ta'en. we then should see the bottom 
 01' all our fortunes: but if we ha])ly 'scape, 
 (As well we may, if not through your neglect,) 
 \Ve shall to London get ; where you are lov'd ; 
 And where this breach, now in our fortunes made. 
 May readily be stopp'd. 
 
 Enter Young Clifford. 
 y. Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief set, 
 1 would speak blasphemy eie hid you fly ; 
 But fly you must; uncurable discomlit 
 
 Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.i 
 Away, for your relief! and we will live 
 To see their day, and them our fortune give: 
 Away, my lord, away ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 111.— Fields near Saint Alban's. 
 Alarum: Retreat. Elnurlth ; tlieii enter York, 
 
 Richard Plantaoexet, Warwick, and Soldiers, 
 
 trith Drum and Colors. 
 
 York. Of Salisbury, who can report of liim; 
 That winter lion, who, in rage, forgets 
 Aged contusions and all brush of time ;- 
 And, like a gallant in tlie brow of youth,^ 
 Repairs him with occasion ! this happy day 
 Is not itself, nor have we won one loot, 
 If Salisbury be lost. 
 
 Rich. My nob/t; father. 
 
 Three times to-day I holp him to his horse. 
 Three times beslrid him, thrice I led him off, 
 Persuaded him from any lurther act ; 
 But still, where danger was, still there I met him- 
 And like rich hangings in a homely house, 
 So was his will in his old feeble body. 
 But, noble as he is, look, where he comes. 
 Enter Salisbcky. 
 
 Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought 
 to-day ; 
 By the mass, so did we all. -I thank you, Richard, 
 God knows, how long it is 1 ha\e to live; 
 And it hath picas'd him, that three times to-day 
 You have defended me Irom imminent death. — 
 Well, lords, we have not got that which we have:* 
 'Tis not enough our foes are this time tied. 
 Being opposites of such reiiairing nature.' 
 
 York. I know, our salety is to follow them ; 
 For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, 
 To call a present court of parliament. 
 Let us pursue iiim, ere the writs go Itjrth : — 
 What says lord Warwick ? shall we after them ? 
 
 Il'ur. After them ! nay, before them, if we ciin. 
 Now by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day : 
 Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York, 
 Stiall be eterniz'd in all age' to come. — 
 Sound, drums and trumpets: — and to London 
 
 all: 
 And more such days as these to us befall ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 I For parties. « i. f. The pr.idual detrilitin of time. 
 
 > i. c. The height of youth; the brow of ahiU is its sum- 
 mit. 
 
 • I. e. We hare not seriired thnt which we hare acquired. 
 
 • i. f. Being eneniies that are likely so soon to rally and 
 recover themselves from this defeat. 
 
THIRD PART OF 
 
 KING HENRY YI. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Lords Oil King 
 Henry's side. 
 
 KiN'G Hexrt the Sixth. 
 
 Edward, Prince o/' Wales, his Sun. 
 
 Lewis the Eleventh, King of France. 
 
 Duke of Somerset, 
 
 Duke of Exeter, 
 
 Eari, of Oxford, 
 
 Earl of Northumrerlaxd, 
 
 Earl of Wesimorelaxd, 
 
 Lord Clifford, 
 
 Richard Plaxtaoenet, Duke of York. 
 
 Edward. Ear{ /(^March, afltrwavth 
 
 King Edward' //if Foiirt/i, 
 Ed.muxd, Eart o/' Rutland, 
 George, afterwards Duke of Clarence, 
 Richard, afterwards Luke (i/'Glostcr, 
 Dcke of Norfolk, 
 Marvuis op JMoxtagce, 
 Earl of Warwick, 
 Earl op Peji broke, 
 Lord Hastixcs, 
 Lord Stafford, 
 Henry, Earl of Riclimon'd, a Youth. 
 
 > his Sons. 
 
 of the Duke rfYovk': 
 f I'arlu. 
 
 Sir John Mortimer, ) Uncles to the Duke oj 
 
 Sir High Mortimer, ) York. 
 
 Lord Rivers, Brother to Lady Grey 
 
 Sir William Stanley. 
 
 Sir John Montgomery. 
 
 Sir John Somerville. 
 
 Tulm- to Rutland. 
 
 Mayor of York. 
 
 Lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 A Kotilcnian. 
 
 Two Keepers. 
 
 A Huntsman. 
 
 A Son that has killed his Fattier. 
 
 A Father that has killed hi^ Son. 
 
 Queen Margaret. 
 
 Lady Guey, ajlerwards Queen to Edward the 
 
 Fourth. 
 Bona, sister to the French Queen. 
 
 Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and 
 A'i^g- Edward, Messengers, Watchmen, ^c. 
 
 SCENE, during part of the third act, in France ; during all the rest of the play, in England. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I— London. The Parliament House. 
 
 Drums. Some Soldwrs of York's parf if break in. 
 Then enter the Duke uf York, Kuward, Rich- 
 aud, Norfolk, Montague, WAR;Ya'K,flrtt/o/Aer5, 
 witk white Ruses in their Hats. 
 War. I wonder how the kinj; escaped our hands. 
 York. Whilo we pursued the horsemen of tiie 
 north, 
 He sliiy stole away, and left his men : 
 Whereat the ^T»^at lord ot' Northumberland, 
 Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, 
 Cheer'd up the droojjnif? army: and liimselt', 
 Lord Clillbrd. and lord StaHord, all a-breast, 
 Chartered our main battle's front, and, breaking in, 
 Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. 
 £<lw. Lord Stallbrd's lather, duke of Bucking- 
 ham, 
 Is either slain, or wounded dangerous : 
 I dell his beaver with a downright blow; 
 That this is true, father, behold nis blood. 
 
 [Sh^nving his bloody Sword. 
 Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of Wilt- 
 shire's blood, [7*0 YoRKy showing his. 
 Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd. 
 y^;W/.Si)eak thou lor me, and tell them what I did. 
 [Thnncing iluwu the Dlkk ok Somerset's Head, 
 lurk. Kichard hath Ijest deserv'd ol'all my sons. — 
 What, is your grace dead, my lord ol tlomcrset ? 
 430 
 
 Noff. Such hope have all the line of John of 
 
 Gaunt! 
 Rieh. Thus do I hope to shake king IIenr}''s 
 
 head. 
 War. And so do I. — Victorious prince of York, 
 Before I see thee seated in that throne 
 Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, 
 I vow by iiea\'en, these eyes shall never close. 
 This is the palace of the iearful king, - 
 And tliis the regal seat: possess it, York: 
 For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs'. 
 Yurk. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and 1 
 will ; 
 For hither we have broken in by force. 
 No?-/. We'll all assist you; he that Hies, shall die. 
 York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk, — Stay by me, my 
 lords ; — 
 And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night. 
 War. And, when the king comes, oiler him no 
 violence. 
 Unless he seek to thrust 5"ou out by force. 
 
 [Then retire. 
 York. The queen, this day, here holds her par- 
 liament, 
 Rut little thinks we shall be of her council : 
 liy words, or blows, Jiere let us win our right. 
 Rich. Arm'dasweare.let'sstay within this house. 
 Jl'a?: The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, 
 Unless Plantagenct, duke of York, be lang : 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 431 
 
 And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice 
 Hath made us by-words to our enemies. 
 
 York' Then leave nie not, my lords; be resolute; 
 I mean to take possession ol'my riglit. 
 
 IVai: Neitlier the king, nor he tliat loves him 
 best, 
 The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, 
 Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.' 
 I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares: — 
 llcsolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. 
 [VVakhick leads York iu the Tkrune, who 
 seats himself. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Henky, Clifford, North- 
 i:.Mi>KKLANi), Westmoreland, Exetek, and otAcrs, 
 ivith red Koses in llieir Hats. 
 
 K. lien. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel 
 sits, 
 Even in lire chair of state ! belike, he means, 
 (Back'd by tlie power of Warwick, that (alse peer,) 
 To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king. — 
 Earl 01 Northumberland, he slew thy lather; 
 And thine, lord Clillord; and you both have vow'd 
 
 revenge 
 On him, his sons, his favorites, and his friends. 
 Ntirlh. If I be not, heaven be revenged on me! 
 CliJ. The hope thereof makes Clillord mourn in 
 
 steel. 
 JVesl. What, shall we suffer this ? let's pluck him 
 down : 
 My heart lor anger burns, I cannot brook it. 
 A'. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. 
 Clif. Tatience is for poltroons, and siicli as he ; 
 He durst not sit there had your liither liv'd. 
 My gracious lord, liere m the parliament 
 Let us assail the lamily of Vork. 
 Narth. Well hast thou spoken, cousin; be it so. 
 A'. Hen. Ah. know you not, the city lavors them, 
 And they have troops of soldiers at their beck '. 
 Exe. But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly 
 
 Ily. 
 A. //(•;;. Far be the thought of this from Henry's 
 heart 
 To make a shambles of the parliament-house ! 
 Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and thrimfs. 
 Shall be the war that Henry means to use. — 
 
 [ Tliey advance to the Di'ke. 
 Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne, 
 And kneel for grace and mercy at my liset; 
 1 am thy sovereign. 
 
 York. Thou art deceiv'd, I am thine. 
 
 Exe. Eor shame, come down ; he made thee duke 
 
 of York. 
 York. 'Twiis my inheritance, as the earldom was. 
 Exe. Thy lather was a traitor to the crown. 
 M'lir. Exeler, thou art a traitor to the crown, 
 In lollowiiig this usurping Henry. 
 Cllf. Whom should he follow, but his natural 
 
 king ! 
 War. True, Clillord; and that's Richard, duke 
 
 of York. 
 A'. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in mv 
 throne ] •' 
 
 Yrtrk. It must and shall be so. Content thyself. 
 War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. 
 It"(w/. He is bolh king and duke ol Lancaster ; 
 Aiid_ that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. 
 IVur. And Warwick shall dis])rove it. You Ibrget, 
 That wo arc those, which chas'd you from the held, 
 And slew your lathers, and with colors spread 
 March'd through the cily to the palace gates. 
 
 Aiirth. Vcs, Warw ick, I remember it to my grief; 
 And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. 
 II est. Flantagcuot, of thee, and these thy sons. 
 Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I'll have more lives 
 Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. 
 
 Clif. Urge it no more ; lest that, instead of words, 
 I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger, 
 As shall reviuige his death, before I stir. 
 
 H-'ur. Poor Clillord! how I scorn his worthless 
 
 threats! 
 Yurk Will you, we show our title to the crown' 
 If not. our pv^'ords shall plead it in the held. 
 A'. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, to the 
 crown ] 
 Thy father was. as thou art, duke of York; 
 Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, earl of March; 
 
 1 Ibiwka bad sometiuKis little bells hung on tbein, per- 
 haps to dare the birds ; that is, to fright them from rising. 
 
 I am the son of Henry the Fifth, 
 
 Who made the dauphin and the French to stoop, 
 
 And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces. 
 
 War. Talk not of France, si th thou h;ist lost it all. 
 A'. Hen. The lord protector lost it, and not I ; 
 When 1 was crown'd, I was but nine months old. 
 Rich. Y'ou arc old enough now, and yet methinks 
 you lose : — 
 Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. 
 Edw. Sweet father, do so ; set it on your head. 
 Mont. Cood brother, [To York.] as thou lov'st 
 and honor'st arms. 
 Let's light it out, and not stand cavilling thus. 
 Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king 
 
 will llj-. 
 York. Sons, peace ! 
 A'. Hen. Peace thou! and give king Henry leave 
 
 to speak. 
 War. Plantagenet shall speak first : — hear him, 
 lords ; 
 And be you silent and attentive too. 
 For he, that interrupts him, shall not live. 
 A'. Hen. Think'st thou, thai I will leave my 
 kingly tiirone. 
 Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat? 
 No : first shall wiw un))eople this my realm ; 
 Ay, and their colors,— olten borne in France; 
 And now in England, to our heart's great sorrow, — 
 Shall be my winding sheet. — Why faint you, lordis ] 
 My title's good, and better far than his. 
 
 (('«i-. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. 
 K. Hen. Henry the F'ourlh by conquest got the 
 
 crown. 
 York. "Twas by rebellion against his king. 
 A'. Hen. 1 know not w hat to say ; my title's weak. 
 Tell me, may not a king adopt an hc'ir ! 
 York. What then"! 
 
 A'. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful king: 
 For Richard, in the view of many lords, 
 Rcsign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth ; 
 Whose heir my father was, and I am his. 
 
 Yurk. He rose against him, being his sovereign, 
 And made him to resign his crown perlbrce. 
 
 War. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd, 
 Think you, 'twere prejudicial to his crown '! 
 
 E.re. No ; lor he could not so resign his crown, 
 But that the next heir should succeed and reign. 
 A'. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter 1 
 Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon nic. 
 York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer 
 
 not ! 
 E.ce. My conscience tells me, he is lawful king. 
 K. lien. All will revolt from me, and turn to 
 
 him. 
 Nmih. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, 
 Think not, that Henry shall be so depos'd. 
 War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all. 
 A'orth. Thou art deceiv'd: 'tis not thy southern 
 power. 
 Of Essex, Norfolk, Sutlolk, nor of Kent,-^ 
 Which makes thee thus jTesumptuons and proud, — 
 Can set Ihe duke up lU ilespite of me. 
 
 Clif'. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, 
 Lord Clifibrd vows to fight in thy deli?nce : 
 May that ground gape, and swallow me alive. 
 Where I shall kneel to him that slew my lather ! 
 A'. Hen. O Cliilbrd, how thy words revive my 
 
 heart! 
 York. Henry of L.ancastcr, resign thy crown: — 
 What mutter you, or \\hat conspire you, lords 1 
 
 War. Do right unto this princely duke of York: 
 Or I will fill the house with armed men. 
 And o'er the chair of state where now he sit-s, 
 Write iii> his title with usurimig blood. 
 
 [He stamps, and the Sokliers sluiw fhem.selves. 
 K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, hear me but one 
 word ; 
 Let me, for this my life-time, reign as king. 
 Yurk. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine 
 heirs. 
 And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. 
 K. Hen. 1 am content : Richard Plantagenet, 
 Enjoy the kingdom aller my decease. 
 Clif. What wrong is this" unto the prince your 
 
 son * 
 H'«r.What good is this to England and himself? 
 West. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry ! 
 Clif. How hast thou injur'd bolh thyself and us? 
 West. I cannot stay to hear these articles. 
 Kortli. Nor I. 
 
432 
 
 THIRD PART OP 
 
 Act 1, 
 
 Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these 
 
 news. 
 West. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate 
 king. 
 In ^Yhose cold blood no spark of honor bides ! 
 
 jSiortk. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, 
 And die in bands for tliis unnumJy deed ! 
 
 Cllf. In dreadful war niayst thou be overcome ! 
 Or li\e in peace, abandori'd and despis'd ! 
 
 {Exeunt Northujibeuland, CLirFonD, and 
 Westmorelasd. 
 War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them 
 
 not. 
 £xe. They seek revenge, and therefore will not 
 
 yield. 
 K. Hen. Ah. Exeter ! 
 W^ar. Why should you siffh, my lord ? 
 K. Hen. Not for nijseH, lord Warwick, but my 
 son, 
 VV'hom I unnaturally shall disinherit. 
 But, be it as it may : — I licre entail 
 The crown to thee, and to thine heirs for ever; 
 Conditionally, that here thou take an oath 
 To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, 
 To lionor me as thy king and sovereign; 
 And neither by treason, nor hostility. 
 To seek to put mc down, and reign thyself. 
 
 Y(/rk. This oath I willingly take, and will per- 
 form. [Coming fruni. /he Throne. 
 War. Long live king Henry !—riantagenet, em- 
 brace hiin. 
 A". Hen. And long live thou, and these thy for- 
 ward sons ! 
 York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. 
 £xe. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make them 
 foes ' [ The Lords come forward. 
 York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my 
 
 castle. 
 War. And I'll keep London, with my soldiers. 
 M)rf. And I to Norfolk, with my followers. 
 Mont. And 1 unto the sea, from whence I came. 
 [Exeunt Y'ork, and his Sons, Warwick, 
 Norfolk, Mo.-crAGfE, Soldiers, and 
 Attendants. 
 K. Hen.. And I, with grief and sorrow, to the 
 court. 
 
 Enter Queen Marraret, and the Prince of 
 Wales. 
 
 Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray 
 her anger; 
 I'll steal away. 
 
 K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [Going. 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee. 
 
 K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. 
 
 Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such extremes ! 
 Ah, wretched man ! 'would I had died a maid. 
 And never seen thee, never borne thee son, 
 Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father ! 
 Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ] 
 Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I ; 
 Or felt that pain, which I did for him once; 
 Or nourish'd him, as I did with my blood ; 
 Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood 
 
 there, 
 Rather than mad" that savage duke thine heir, 
 And disinherited thine only son. 
 
 Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me: 
 If you be king, why should 1 not succeed ? 
 
 A'. Jleu. Pardon me, Margaret ;— pardon me, 
 sweet son ; — 
 The earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me. 
 
 Q. Mar. Enforced thee ! art thou lung, and wilt 
 be tbrcetl I 
 I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch ! 
 Thou h.ast undone thyself, thy son, and me; 
 And given unto the house of'York such head, 
 As thou Shalt reign but by their sutlerance. 
 To entail him and his hei'rs unto the crown, 
 Wliat is it, but to make thy sepulchre, 
 And creep into it far before thy time? 
 Warwick is chancellor, and the hu'd of Calais; 
 Stern Kalconliridge eoinniands Ihe narrow seag; 
 The duke is ina>le i)roteel(ir of the realm; 
 And yet Shalt Ihun be sali-? such sul'ety finds 
 The trembling lamb, environed with wolves. 
 
 Had I been there, which am a silly woman. 
 The soldiers should have toss'd mo on their 
 
 Before I would have granted to that act. 
 
 their pikes. 
 
 But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honor: 
 And seeing thou dost, I here divorce niyselt; 
 Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, 
 Until that act of parliament be repeal'd. 
 Whereby my son is di'sinherited. 
 The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colors. 
 Will (iillow mine, if once they see them spread: 
 And spread they shall be; to thy foul disgrace. 
 And utter ruin of the house of York. 
 Thus do I leave thee :— Come, son, let's away ; 
 Our army's ready; come, we'll after them. 
 A'. Hrn. Stay, gentle JMargaret, and hear me 
 
 speak. 
 Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already; get 
 
 thcc gone. 
 A". Hen. Rentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with 
 
 me 1 
 <?. Mar. .A.y, to be murder'd by his enemies. 
 Prince. When I return with victory from the 
 tield, 
 I'll see your grace : till then, I'll follow her. 
 Q. Mar. Come, sou, away ; we may not linger 
 thus. 
 [Exexint Qiteen Margaret and the Prince. 
 A". Hen. Poor queen ! how love to me, and to 
 her son. 
 Hath made her break out into terms of rage ! 
 Revenged may she be on that hateful duke; 
 Whose haughty spirit, winged witli desire. 
 Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle. 
 Tire' on the llesh of me, and of my son ! 
 The loss of those three lords torments my heart: 
 1 11 write unto them, and entreat them fair;— 
 Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. 
 Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — A Room in. Sandal Castle, near 
 Wakefield, in Y'orkshire. 
 
 Enter Edward, Richard, and Montagce. 
 Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give mo 
 
 leave. 
 Edw. No, I can better play the orator. 
 Mont. But I liave reasons strong and forcible. 
 
 * Enter York. 
 
 Ytn-k. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a 
 strife 1 
 What is your quarrel 1 how began it first 1 
 Edw. No quarrel but a slight contention. 
 York. About what ? 
 
 Rich. About that which concerns your grace, 
 and us; 
 The crown of England, fiuher, which is yours. 
 Yin-k. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. 
 Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death. 
 Edw. Now you are heir, thereibre enjoy it now: 
 By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breatlie, 
 It will outrun you, father, in the end. 
 York. I took an oath that he sliould quietly 
 
 reign. 
 Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be 
 broken : 
 I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. 
 Ricli. No ; God forbid, your grace should be tor- 
 sworn. 
 York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. 
 Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear ma 
 
 speak. 
 York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. 
 Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took 
 Belbre a true and lawful magistrate. 
 That hath authority over him that swears : 
 Henry had none, but did usurp the place ; 
 Then, seeing 'twas ho that made you to depose, 
 Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. 
 Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think. 
 How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ; 
 Within whose circuit is Elysium, 
 And all tliat poct-s feign of bliss and Joy. 
 Why do we linger thus ? I cannot rest. 
 Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed 
 Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. 
 
 York. Richard, enough ; I will be king, or die.— 
 Brotlier, thou shall to London presently. 
 And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. — 
 Thou, Richard, shall unto the duke of Norfolk, 
 And tell him privily of our intent. — 
 
 • Peok. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 400 
 0.3 
 
 You. Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, 
 With whom the Kentishmeii will willingly rise: 
 In them I trust ; for they are soldiers, 
 Witty^ and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.^ 
 While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, 
 But that I seek occasion how to rise; 
 And yet the kina; not privy to my drift, 
 Nor any of the house of Lancaster? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 ButjUtay; What news ! Why com'st thou m such 
 post ! 
 Mess. Tlie queen, witii all the northern earls and 
 lords, 
 Intend here to besiege you in your castle : 
 She IS hard hy with twenty thousand men; 
 And therefore Ibrtify your hold, my lord. 
 
 York. Ay, vvilh my sword. What, think'st thou, 
 triat we lear tliem ! — 
 Edw'ard and Richard, you shall stay witli me; — 
 My brother Montague shall post toLondon: 
 Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest. 
 Whom we have left protectors of the king. 
 With powerful policy strengthen themselves, 
 And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oi^ths. 
 
 Miint. Brother, 1 go; I'll win them, fear it not : 
 And thus most humbly do I take my leave. [Exit. 
 Enter Sir .Toun and Sir Hugh jroiiriMER. 
 Yurk. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine 
 uncles .' • 
 
 You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; 
 The army of the queen mean to besiege us. 
 Sir Juliii. She shall not need, we'll meet her in 
 
 the hold. 
 York. What, With five thousand men? 
 llkh. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. 
 A woman's general; What should we tear! 
 
 [-1 March afar off. 
 Etlw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in 
 order; 
 And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. 
 York. Five men to twenty! — though the odds be 
 great, 
 I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. 
 Many a battle have I won in France, 
 When as the enemy hath been ten to one; 
 Why should I not now have the like success ? 
 
 [Alarum. Exeunt. 
 SCEiN'E III.— Plains 7iear Sandal Castle. 
 Alarums: Excursions. Enter Rutl.vxd, and his 
 Tutor. 
 
 Rut. Ah. whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands! 
 Ah, tutor ! look, whore bloody Cliflord comes ! 
 Enter Clifford, and Soldiers, 
 
 Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy 
 lilc. 
 As for the brat of this accursed duke. 
 Whose tiither slew my father, — lie shall die. 
 
 Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. 
 
 Clif. Soldiers, away with him. 
 
 Tiit. Ah.Clilibrd! murdcrnot thisinnocentchild. 
 Lest thou be hated bolh of God and man. 
 
 [Exit, forced off' hi/ Soldiers. 
 
 Cli_f. How now! is he dead already .' Or is it fear, 
 That makes him close his eyes 7 I'll open them. 
 
 Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch 
 That trembles under his devouring paws: 
 And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; 
 And so he comes, to rend nis limbs asunder. — 
 Ah, gentle Clillbrd, kill me with thy sword, 
 And not wii.h such a cruel threat'ning look. 
 Sw eet Clilllird, hear me speak before I die ; — 
 lam too mean a subject for thy wrath. 
 Be thou revenged on men. and let me live. 
 
 Clij: In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's 
 blond 
 Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should 
 enler. 
 
 Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again : 
 He is a man, and, Clillbrd, cope with him. 
 
 C/i/. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine 
 Were not revenge sulticient for me; 
 No, if I digg'd up thy tbrefathers' graves. 
 And hung their rotten cottins up Cn chains. 
 It cojid not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. 
 The sight of any of the house of York 
 ' Of sound judgmeut. 
 
 28 
 
 Is as a fury to torment my soul ; 
 And till I root out their accursed line. 
 And leave not one alive, I live in hell. 
 
 Theretbrc [Lifting hi.t Hand. 
 
 Rut. (), let me pray before I take my deatli: — 
 To thee 1 pray; Sweet Clillbrd, pity me! 
 Clif. Such pity as my rapier's po'int allbrds. 
 Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt lliou slay 
 
 me? 
 Ctif. Thy father hath. 
 
 Rut. But 'fwas ere I was born. 
 
 Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; 
 Lest in revenge thereof.— sith God is just,— 
 He be as miserably slain as I. 
 Ah, let me live in prison all mv days; 
 And when I give occasion of o'ltiincc. 
 Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. 
 
 Clif. No cause? 
 Thy lather slew my father; therefore, die. 
 
 [Clifford .itnbs him. 
 Rut. Diifaciant, laudis suntma sit ista tux .'^ 
 
 [Dies. 
 Clif. Plantagcnct! I come, Plantagenet! 
 And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, 
 Sliall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood. 
 Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe oil both. 
 
 [Exit 
 SCENE IV.— The same. 
 Alarum. Enter York. 
 York. The army of the queen hath got the field: 
 My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; 
 And all my followers to the eager foe 
 Turn back, and lly, like ships before the wind, 
 Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. 
 My sons— God knows what has bechanced them : 
 But this I know— they have demeaii'd themselves 
 Like men born to renown, by lite or death. 
 Three times did Richard make a lane to me; 
 And thrice cried,— Courage, father.' fight it uui! 
 And lull as oft came Edward to my side. 
 With iiurple falchion, painted to the hilt. 
 In blood of those that had encounter'd him: 
 And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 
 Richard cnci,— Charge ! and give no foot of 
 
 ground.' 
 And cried,—.! crown, or eke a glorious tomb! 
 A setjitre, or an earthly sepulchre.' 
 With this, we charged again: but, out, alas! 
 We bodned' ai;ain; as I have seen a swan 
 With liii.iiless labor swim against the tide. 
 And si)eiul her strength with overmatching waves. 
 ...,,.„ [-•! sh/irt Alarum within. 
 
 Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue: 
 And 1 am laint, and cannot tly their fury; 
 And, were 1 strong, I would not shun their fury: 
 The sands are nuiiiber'd that make up my life ; 
 Here must I stay, and here my life must end. 
 Enter Qcee.n Marg.iret, Clifford, NonTiii-aDER- 
 
 LASD, and Soldiers. 
 Come, bloody Clilfbrd,— rough Northumberland,— 
 I dare your quenchless fury to more rage 
 I am your butt, and I abide your shot. 
 North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. 
 Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm, 
 With downright payment, show'd unto my lather. 
 Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car. 
 And made an evening at the noontide prick.6 
 
 York. My ashes, as the PhuMiix, may bring forth 
 A bird that will revenge upon you all: 
 And, in that hope. I throw mine eyes to heaven, 
 Scorning whate'er you can aftlict me with. 
 Why come you not ! what! multitudes, and fear? 
 C/i/'.So cowards tight,when they can lly no further; 
 So doves do peck the lalcon's piercing talons; 
 So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives. 
 Breathe out invectives 'gainst the ollicers. 
 
 York. O Clillbrd, but bethink thee once again, 
 And in thy thought o'er-run my former time; 
 And, if thou canst for blushing, view this laee; 
 And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cow- 
 ardice. 
 Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. 
 Clf. 1 will not bandy with thee word for word; 
 But buckle with thee blows twice two for one. 
 
 [Draws 
 « Ilraven grant that this may be your greatest Iioast 1 
 
 Ovid. £)ust. 
 ' I. e. n e boggled, failed, e Xoontide point on the dial. 
 
434 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Q* Mar. Hold, valiant Cliflbrd! for a thousand 
 causes, 
 I would prolong awhile the traitor's life: — 
 Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumber- 
 land. 
 
 North. Hold. Clifford ; do not honor him so much, 
 To prick thy llni^cr, though to wound his lieart: 
 What valor were it. when a cur doth grin, 
 For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, 
 When he mi^ht spurn him with his foot away? 
 It ii^ war's prize to take all vantages; 
 And ten to one is no impeach ol valoi. 
 
 [They lay hands on York, ivho sfruggles. 
 
 Clif. Ay. ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. 
 
 North. So doth the conev strug^Me in llic net. 
 
 [Yokk is taken /irU^nnpr. 
 
 York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd 
 booty; 
 So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-matched. 
 
 North. What would your grace have done unto 
 hiiu nowl 
 
 Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northum- 
 berland, 
 Come make him stand upon this molehill here, 
 That rnughf' at mountains with outstretclicd arms, 
 Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. — 
 Whnt ! wos it you that would be England's king"? 
 Was't you that revell'd in our parliament. 
 And made a preachment of your high descent? 
 Where are your mess of sons to back you now? 
 Thi" wanton Edward, and the lusty George? 
 And Where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 
 Dickey, jour boy, that with his grumbling voice, 
 Whs wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? 
 Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? 
 Look, York; I stain'd tliis napkin witli the blood 
 Tliat valiant Clillord, with his rapier's point, 
 Made issue from the bosom of the boy: 
 And, if thine eyes can water for his death, 
 I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. 
 Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deacfly, 
 I should lament thy miserable state. 
 I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me meny, York; 
 Stamp, rave, and fret, that 1 may slug and dance. 
 What, hath thy fiery heart so parchVlthiue entrails, 
 Tliat not a tear can fall for Uutlaud's death? 
 Why artlhou patient, man? thou should'stbemad; 
 And 1, to make thee mad, do mock Ihee thus. 
 Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport; 
 York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. — 
 -A cro%vn for York; — and, lords, bow low to him. — 
 Hold you his hands, whilst 1 do set it on. — 
 
 [Putting a paper Crown on his Head. 
 Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! 
 Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair; 
 And this is he was his adopted Jieir. — 
 But how is it that great Plantagenet 
 Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? 
 As 1 bethink me, you should not be king, 
 Till our king Henry had shook hands with death. 
 And will you pale^ your head in Henry's glorj', 
 Xud rob his temples of the diadem. 
 Now in his lile, against your holy oath? 
 0, 'tis a tiuiit too, too unpardonable! 
 OtTwith the crown; and with the crown, his head; 
 And. whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. 
 
 Clif. That is my otfice, for my father's sake. 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay, stay ; let's hear the orisons he 
 
 makes. 
 York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves 
 of France, 
 Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth ! 
 How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, 
 To triumph like an Amazonian trull. 
 Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates? 
 
 But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, 
 Made impudent with use of evil deeds, 
 i would assay, proud queen, to make the blush: 
 To tell thee whence thou cam'st.of whom deriv'd, 
 Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not 
 
 shameless. 
 Thy father hears the typc^ of king of Naples, 
 Of both the Siciis, and" Jerusalem; 
 Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. 
 Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? 
 It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen* 
 Unless the adage inust be vcrihed, — 
 That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. 
 'Tis beauty that doth ott make womeu proud; 
 But, God lie knows, thy sliare thereof is small: 
 'Tis virtue, that doth make them most admu'd; 
 The contrary doth mifke thee wonder'd at: 
 'Tis government, • that makes them seem divine; 
 The want thereof makes thee abominable; 
 Thou art as opposite to every good, 
 As the Antipodes are unto us, 
 Or as the south to the septentrion.^ 
 O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! 
 How could'at lliou drain the Hle-blood of the child, 
 To bid the mther wipe his eyes withal, 
 And yet be seen to bear a xvomau's face? 
 Women are sort, mild, pitiful, and flexible; 
 Thnu stern, obdurate, flinly, rough, remorseless. 
 Bid'st thoume 
 
 rage ? whv, now thou hast thy wish : 
 ; me weep* why, now thou hast thy 
 
 Would'st have i 
 
 will: 
 For raging wind blows up incessant showers, 
 And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. 
 Tliese tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; 
 And every drop cries vengeance for his death, — 
 'Gainst thee, tell Clillord, — and tliee, false French- 
 woman. 
 
 North. Beshrewme,but hispassions^movemeso, 
 That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. 
 
 York. That face of his the hungry cannibals 
 Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd 
 
 with blood: 
 But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, — 
 O, ten times more, — than tigers of Hyrcauia. 
 See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: 
 This cloth thou dipp'dstin blood of my sweet boy, 
 Aud I with tears do wash the blood away. 
 Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: 
 
 {He gives back tlie Handkerchief. 
 And if thou tell'st the heavy story right. 
 Upon my soul, tlie hearers will shed tears; 
 Yea, even my foes will shed fast-lalling tears, 
 And say, — Alas, it was a piteous deed ! 
 There, "take the crown, and with the crown, my 
 
 curse ; 
 And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee. 
 As now I reap at thy too cruel hand ! — 
 Hard-hearted Clitlbrd, take me from tlie world; 
 My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! 
 
 North. Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, 
 I should not for my life but weep with liim, 
 To see how inly sorrow gripes Ins soul. 
 
 Q. Mar. What, weeping ripe, my lord Northum- 
 berland ? 
 Think but upon the wrong he did us all. 
 And that will quickly dry thy melting tears, 
 
 Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's 
 death. {StalMng him. 
 
 Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted 
 king. [Stabbing him. 
 
 York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! 
 My soul Hies through these wouiids to seek out thee. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Q. Afor. Offwith his head, and set it on Yorkgates ; 
 So York may overlook the town of Yoik. [Exeunt* 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in 
 Herefordshire. 
 
 Drums. Enter Edward and RicnARO, tvith tlicir 
 Forces, tnarc/iing. 
 Edw. I wonder,how our princely father 'scap 
 Or whether he be 'scaped away or no, 
 
 1 Keacheil. * Impale, encircle. 
 
 From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit; 
 Ilad he been ta'en, we should have heard the news ;. 
 liad he been slain, we should have heard the news; 
 Or, had he 'scaped, methinks, we should have heard 
 The happy tidings of his good escape. — 
 How fares' my brother? why is he so sad? 
 
 9 The disthiguisbiug mark. > Ke^uhirity rf J-cha^iour. 
 
 a Tbo north. ' SufTLiings. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KIXG HENRY VI. 
 
 435 
 
 Rich. I cannot joy. until I be resolv'd 
 Where our rig:ht valiant father is become. 
 ( yaw him in the hatUe range about; 
 And watch'd him how he singled Cliirord forth. 
 Methoug:hl, he bore him in the thickest troop, 
 As doth a lion in a herd of neat :* 
 Or as a bear. cncompas.s'd round with do2:s; * 
 Who having pinch'd a few, and made thf-m cr5% 
 The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 
 So fared our father with his enemies; 
 So lied his enemies my warlike father; 
 Melhinks, 'tis prize onough to be his son. 
 See how the mornmG, opes her golden gates, 
 And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! 
 }lnw well resembles it the prime of youth. 
 Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love ! 
 
 Ji^dw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? 
 
 Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a pericct 
 sun; 
 Not separated with the racking clouds,^ 
 'But sever'd in a pale-cleac *hihmg sky. 
 See, see! they jom, embrac»3, and seem to kiss, 
 As if they vow'd some league inviolable : 
 Now are they but 07ie lamp, one lighjt, one sun. 
 In this the heaven figures some event. 
 
 Edw. 'Tis wondrous strant;e, the like yet never 
 heard of. 
 I think, it cites us, brother, to the field ; 
 That we, the sons of brave Piantagenet, 
 Each one already blazing by aur meeds,^ 
 Sliould, notwithstandins, join our iiichts together. 
 And overshiue the earth", as Ihis the world. 
 Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear 
 Upon my target three fair shining suns. 
 
 Rkh. Nay, bear three daughters; by your leave 
 I speak it, 
 You love the breeder better than the male. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell 
 Some dic£.dfiil story hanging on thy tongue 1 
 
 Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker on. 
 When as the noble diiko of York was slain, 
 Vour princely tatlier, and my loving lord. 
 
 Edw. O, sj-'cak no more ! for I have heard too 
 much 
 
 Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all, 
 
 ]\l€ss. Envircnod he was with many foes; 
 And stood against them as the hope of Troy 
 Against the (ireeks that would have entered Troj'. 
 But Hercules himself must yield to odds; 
 And many strokes, though with a liltle axe. 
 Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. 
 liy many hands ycur father was subdued ; 
 But only shiugiirerM by tlie ireful arm 
 (irnnrelontiiig Cliltbrd', and the queen: 
 W'iio cnuvn'd tlu' gracious duke m high despite; 
 Laugh'd in his face ; and, when with grief he wept, 
 Tlie ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, 
 A napkin steeped in the harmless blood 
 Of sweet young Kutland, by rough CliUord slain : 
 And, after many scorns, many foul tiiunts. 
 They took his head, and on the gates of York 
 They set the same ; and there it doth remain. 
 The saddest spectacle that e'er 1 vicw'd. 
 
 Edw. Swe£t duke of York, our prop to lean 
 upon ; 
 Now thou ait gone, we have no staft^ no stay! — 
 O Clifibrd, boist'rous Cliflbrd, thou liast slain 
 The flower of Europe for his chivalry ; 
 And treacherously hast thou vanquisliM him. 
 i'or, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd 
 
 thee I — 
 Now my souTs palace is become a prison : 
 Ah, would she break from hence! that this my 
 
 body 
 Might in tlie ground be closed up in rest: 
 For never hencclbrth shall I joy again, 
 Never, O never, shall 1 see more joy. 
 
 Rich. I cannot weep: for all my body's moisture 
 Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: 
 Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden. 
 For self-same wind, that I should speak withal. 
 Is kindling coals, that tire all my breast, 
 And burn me up with flames, that tears would 
 quench. 
 
 « Neat cattle, cows. oxen. &c. 
 
 « I. e. Tho clouds in rapid tumultwary motion. 
 
 c Merit 1 Hector. 
 
 To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: 
 Tears, then, for babes; blowsand revenge for me! — 
 Richard, I bear thy name. Til venge thy death, 
 Or die renowned by attempting it. 
 
 Edw. His name that valiant duke hath lefl with 
 thee; 
 His dukedom and his chair with me is left.. 
 
 Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, 
 Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : 
 For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; 
 Or that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 
 
 March. Enter Warwick ajid MoNTAcrE. with 
 Forces. 
 
 War. How now, fair lords? What fare'! what 
 
 news abroad 1 
 Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should 
 recount 
 Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, 
 Stab poniards in our Ilcsh till all were told. 
 The words would add more anguish than the 
 wounds. 
 
 valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 
 
 Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Piantagenet 
 Which held thee dearly, as liis soul's redemption, 
 Is by the stern lord Cliltbrd done to death. 
 
 War. Ten days ago 1 drown'd these news in 
 tears : 
 And now, to add more measure to your woes, 
 
 1 come to tell you things snice then befalTn. 
 Arter the bloody fray at Wakefield ti>ught. 
 Where your brave lather breath'd his latest gasp, 
 Tidings, as switUy as the posts could run. 
 Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. 
 
 I then in London, keeper of the king, 
 Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends. 
 And very well appointed, as I thought, 
 March'd towards Saint Alban's to intercept the 
 
 queen. 
 Bearing the king in my behalf along : 
 For by my scouts I was advortised. 
 That she was coming with a full intent 
 To dash our late decree in parliament. 
 Touching king Henry's oath and your succession. 
 Short tale to make, — we at Saint Alban's met, 
 Our battles joiu'd, and Iioth sides fiercely fought: 
 But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, 
 Wlio look'd full genlly onliis warlike queen. 
 That robb'd my soldi«''rs o\' their hated spleen ; 
 Or whether 'twas report of her success; 
 Or more than common fear of Clillord's rigor. 
 Who thunders to his captives — blood and death, 
 I cannot judge : but, to conclude with truth. 
 Their weapons like to lightning came and went; 
 Our soldiers' — like the night-owl's lazy flight, 
 Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail — 
 Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. 
 I checr'd them up with justice of our cause, 
 With promise of higii pay, and great rewards: 
 But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight, 
 And we, in them, no hope to win the day. 
 So Ihat we fled; the king unto the queeir; 
 Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself. 
 In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; 
 For in the marches here, we heard you were, 
 Making another head to fight again. 
 Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle 
 
 Warwick] 
 And when came George from Burgundj' to Eng- 
 land \ 
 War. Some six miles off the duke is with the 
 
 soldiers; 
 And for your brother, — he was lately sent 
 From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, 
 With aid of soldiers to Ihis needful war. 
 Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick 
 
 fled: 
 Oil have I heard his praises in pursuit, 
 But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire. 
 
 War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou 
 
 hear : 
 For thou shalt know this strong right hand of 
 
 mine 
 Can pluck the diadem from faint Henr],''s head, 
 And wring the awful sceptre from his fist; 
 Were he as tamous and as bold m war. 
 As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. 
 Rich. 1 know it well, lord Warwick: blame me 
 
 not ; 
 
436 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 'Tis love, I bear thy (jlorics, makes me spoali. 
 But, in this troublous tiaie, what's to be done^ 
 Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, 
 And wrap our bodies in black mourning-sowns, 
 Nunib'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads 1 
 Or shall we on the helmets of our foes 
 Tell our devotion with revengeful arms 1 
 If for the last, say— Ay, and to it, lords. 
 
 War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you 
 
 out; 
 And therefore comes my brother Montague. 
 Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, 
 Witli Clitlbrd, and the liaugbt Nortliumbcrland, 
 And of their feather juajiy more i)rou<l birds. 
 Have wrought the easy melting king like wax. 
 He swore consent to your succession, 
 ]lis oath enrolled in the parliament ; 
 And now to London all the crew are gone. 
 To frustrate both his oath, and what beside 
 May make against the house of Lancaster. 
 Their power, I think, is thirty thousanil strong: 
 Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself. 
 With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, 
 Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure. 
 Will but amount to Hve-and-twenty thousand, 
 Why, Via.' to London will we march amain; 
 And once again bestride our tbaming steeds. 
 And once again cry— Charge upon our foes ! 
 But never once again turn back and liy. 
 Ric/l. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick 
 
 speak: 
 Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, 
 Tliat cries — Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. 
 A'i/«'. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I 
 
 lean ; 
 And when thon fall'st,(as God forbid the hour!) 
 Must Edward tiill, which peril heaven forefend: 
 
 IFur. No longerearl of March, but duke o<' York; 
 The next degree is, England's royal throne : 
 For king of England shall thou be proclaim'd 
 In every borough as we pass along: 
 And he that throws not up his cap for joy. 
 Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. 
 King Edward,— v.aliant Richard,— Montague,— 
 Stay we no longer dreaming of renown. 
 But sound the trumpets, and about our task. 
 lik/t. Then, Clillord, were thy heart as hard as 
 
 steel, 
 (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) 
 1 come to pierce it. or to give thee mine. 
 Ediv. Then strike up, drums; — Uod, and saint 
 
 George, for us ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger 
 War. How now 1 what news ? 
 3Icss. The duke of Norfolk sends you word 
 by me. 
 The queen is coming with a puissant host; 
 And craves your company for speedy counsel. 
 War. Why then it sorb,» brave warriors : Let's 
 away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Before York. 
 
 Enter KiNr. Heshy, Queen- MARf.ARET, the Peinte 
 OF Wales, Cliefouli, and NunTni-jiiiEiiLAXD, with 
 E'jrees. 
 
 Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town 
 of York. 
 Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, 
 Tliat sought to be encompass 'd with your crown: 
 Dolh not the object cheer your heart, my lord ! 
 
 A". Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear 
 their wreck ; 
 To see this sight, it irks my very soul. — 
 Withhold revenge, dear God ! 'tis not my fault, 
 Not wittingly liavc I infringed my vow. 
 
 Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity 
 And harmful pity, must be laid asiile. 
 To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ? 
 Nol to the beast that would usurp their den. 
 \yiiose hand is that the forest bear dolh lick ? 
 Not his, that spoils her young before her iiice. 
 Who scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? 
 Not he, that sets his foot upon her back. 
 The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on • 
 And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. 
 Ambitious York did level at thy crown, 
 Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows : 
 • Why thou thiugs are as tboy should bo. 
 
 He but a duke, would have his son a king. 
 
 And raise his issue, like a loving sire ; 
 
 Tliou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, 
 
 Didst yield consent to disinherit him, 
 
 Which argued thee a most unloving father. 
 
 Unreasonable creatures feed their young : 
 
 Apd though man's face be feartiil to their eyes, 
 
 Yet, in protection of their tender ones. 
 
 Who hath not seen them (even with those wings 
 
 Whichsometime they have used with fearful flighl) 
 
 Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, 
 
 Oltering their own lives in their young's defence"! 
 
 For shame, my liege, make them your precedent : 
 
 Were it not pity that this goodly boy 
 
 Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; 
 
 .\nd long hercal'ter, say unto his child,— 
 
 IVhut mil great-Rraniffiithcr and grundsire got, 
 
 Mij careless father fnndli/' gave awnij ? 
 
 Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy ; 
 
 Ami let his manly face, which promiseth 
 
 Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart. 
 
 To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. 
 
 A". Hen. Full well hath Clillord play'd the orator, 
 Inferring arguments of mighty Ibrce. 
 Birt, Clilibrd, tell me, didst thou never hear,— 
 That things ill got had ever bad success ! 
 And happy always was it for that son. 
 Whose lather for his hoarding went to hell ? 
 I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ; 
 And would, my_ father had left me no more ! 
 For all the rest is held at such a rate. 
 As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep. 
 Than in possession any jot of pleasure. 
 Ah, cousin York ! 'would thy best fiiends did know, 
 How it dolh srrieve me that thy head is here! 
 
 Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ; our foes 
 are nigli. 
 And this soft courage makes your followers faint. 
 You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ; 
 Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently.— 
 Edward, kneel down. 
 
 K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight ; 
 And learn thjs lesson,— Draw thy sword in right. 
 _ Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, 
 I 11 draw it as apparent to the crown. 
 And in that quarrel use it to the death. 
 
 Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mes.9. Royal commanders, be in readiness: 
 For, with a band of thirty thousand men. 
 Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York ; 
 And, in the towns as they do march along. 
 Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: 
 Darraign your battle,' for they are at hand. 
 
 C7{/'.1 would yourhighness would depart the field; 
 The queen hath best success when you are absent. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our 
 fortune. 
 
 K.IIen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore 
 I 11 stay. 
 
 North. Be it with resolution, then, to fight. 
 
 Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, 
 And hearten those that light in your defence: 
 Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint 
 George .' 
 
 March. Enter Edward, George, Rk^hard, War- 
 wick, Norfolk, Moxtagl'e, and Soldiers. 
 
 Edit: Now, perjur'd Henry ! wilt tliou kneel for 
 grace. 
 And set thy diadem upon my head ; 
 Or bide the mortal fortune of the field! 
 
 Q. il7«r. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! 
 liecomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, 
 Belore thy sovereign, and thy lawful king ! 
 
 Eda<. 1 am his king, and he should bow his knee; 
 I was adopted heir by his consent: 
 Since when, his oath' is broke: for, as I hear. 
 You— that are king, though lie do wear the crown — 
 Have caus'd him, by new acts of parliament. 
 To blot out me, and put his own son in. 
 
 Clif. And reason too ; 
 Who should succeed the father, but the .son? 
 
 Rich. Are you there, butcher?— O.I cannot speak ! 
 
 Clif. Ay, crook-back ; here I stand to answer thee, 
 Or any lie the proudest of thy sort. 
 
 Rich. 'Twas you tliat kill'd young Rutland, was 
 it not? 
 
 > ruolishly. ' i. e. Arr.ingo your order of battla. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 4.37 
 
 Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. 
 Riclu For God's snkc, lords, give signal to the 
 
 tight. 
 War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield 
 
 tlie crown 1 
 Q.Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick] 
 dare you speak] 
 When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, 
 Your legs did better service than your hands. 
 War. Then 'twas my turn to rly, and now' tis thine. 
 Clif. Y^ou said so much belbre, and yet you tied. 
 War. 'Twas not your valor, Clitford, drove me 
 
 thence. 
 Korlh.. No, nor your manhood, tiiat durst make 
 
 you stiiy. 
 Ricli. Norlhumborland, I hold thee reverently ; — 
 Break otflhe parle : lor scarce I can reiraiu 
 The execution of my hig swoln heart 
 Upon that Clillbrd, that cruel child-killer. 
 
 Clif. 1 slew thy (iither : Call'st thou him a child ! 
 Rick. Ay,likeadastard,antla treacherous coward, 
 As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; 
 But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. 
 K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and 
 
 liear me speak. 
 Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. 
 A'. Hen. 1 pr'ytiiee, give no limits to my tongue; 
 I am a king, and privileged to speak. 
 Clif. My liege, llie wound, that bred this meeting 
 here. 
 Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still. 
 
 Ricli. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: 
 By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd,- 
 Tliat Clidbrd's manhood lies upon his tongue. 
 
 Edw. Say. Henry, sliall 1 have my right, or no] 
 A thousand meii have broke their liists ta-day. 
 That ne'er sliall dine, unless thou yield the crown. 
 
 War. Il'lhou deiiy, their blood upon thy head; 
 For Y'ork injustice puts his armor on. 
 Prince. 11 that be right, which Warwick says is 
 right, 
 There is no wrong, but every thing is right. 
 
 Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; 
 For, well I wot, thou hasl thy mother's tongue. 
 
 Q.il/oc. but thou art neither like Ihy sire, nor dam; 
 But like a Ibul niis-shaiicii stigmatick, 
 Mark'd by the deslinus Ui be avoided. 
 As venom toads, or Ir/.ards' dicMdIhl stings. 
 
 Rich. Iron oINaples, liid with Knglish gilt,^ 
 Whose lather bears the title ol a king, 
 (As il'a channel should be call'd the sea,) 
 Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art cx- 
 
 traught. 
 To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart] 
 Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand 
 crowns. 
 To make this shameless callet' know herself.^ 
 Helen of Greece was fairer (iir than thou. 
 Although thy husband may be Menelaus; 
 And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd 
 By that fiilse woman, as this king by thee. 
 His lather revell'd in the heart of France, 
 And tamed the king, ami made the dauphin stoop; 
 And had he match'd accmdin^' lo his state. 
 He might have kept that glory to this day: 
 But, when he took a beggar to his bed. 
 And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day; 
 Kven then that sunshine brew'd a shower tor him, 
 That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, 
 And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. 
 For what hath broach 'd this tumult, but thy pride ] 
 Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; 
 And we, in pily of the gentle king. 
 Had slipp'd our claim until anollier age. 
 
 Geo. But. when we saw^ur sunshine made thy 
 spring, 
 And that thy summer bred us no increase, 
 We set the axe to thy usurimig root; 
 And fbongh Ihe edge hath something hitourselves, 
 A'i'i. know thou, since we have begun to strike, 
 AV'r'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, 
 Or liaih'd thy growing with our heated bloods. 
 
 Ediu. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; 
 Not willing any longer conrorence, 
 Since thou dcny'st the gentle king to speak. — 
 Sound trumpets! — let our bloody colors wave! — 
 And either victory, or else a grave. 
 Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. 
 '^ It is my firm perBiLision. a Gilding. « Drab. 
 
 -E«'«i. No, wrangling woman ; we'll no longer stay ; 
 Tiiese words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— .4 Field nf Battle between Towfon 
 and Saxton in Y'orkshire. 
 Alarums: Excursinns. Enter Vf ATiwicis.. 
 War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, 
 I lay me down a little while to breathe: 
 For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid. 
 Have robb'd mystrong-knitsinewsoftheirstrength. 
 And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. 
 Enter Edward, running. 
 Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle 
 death: 
 Forthis world frowns, and Edward'ssun is clouded. 
 War. How now, my lord ! what hap ! what hope 
 olgood ] 
 
 Enter George. 
 Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; 
 Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: 
 What counsel give you, whither shall we fly ] 
 
 Edu>. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings ; 
 And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. 
 
 Enter Richard. 
 
 Rick. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn 
 thyself] 
 Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, 
 liroach'd with the steely point of ClilTord's lance: 
 .-Vnd in the very pangs "ol death, he ericd,— 
 Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,— 
 H'urwirk. revenge : brother, revenf;e mi/ death! 
 So uiHlernrath tlie belly of their steeds.' 
 Thai slain'd (heir l(_nloeks in his smoking blood, 
 The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. 
 
 War. Then let the earth be druidven with our 
 blood : 
 I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. 
 Why stand we like soft-liearted women here. 
 Wailing our losses, whiles the foe dotlr rage I 
 And look upon, as if the tragedy 
 Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors] 
 Here on my knee I vow to God above, 
 I'll never pause again, never stand still, 
 Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, 
 Or fortune given me measure of revenge. 
 
 Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine ; 
 And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine; 
 And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, 
 1 ihrow my bands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, 
 Thou setter up and pluekcr down of kings ! 
 Beseeching thee,— if with thy will it stands, 
 That to my foes this body must be prey, — 
 Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, 
 And give sweet passage to my sinful soul ! — 
 Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, 
 Where'er it be, in heaven or on earth. 
 
 Rich. IJrother, give me thy hand;— and, gentle 
 Warwick, 
 Let me embrace (bee in my weary arms: — 
 1. that did never weep, now melt with woe. 
 That winter should cut oil' our spring-time so. 
 
 Il'ar. Away, away ! Once more, sweet lords, fare- 
 well. 
 
 Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops. 
 And give them leave to lly that will not stay ; 
 And call them pillars, tha't will stand to us; 
 And if we thrive, promise them such rewards 
 As victors wear at the Olympian games : 
 This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; 
 For yet is hope of life, and victory. — 
 Fore-slow^ no longer, make we hence amain. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV.—T/ie same. Another Part of the 
 Field. 
 E.>-cursions. Enter Richard and Cliffoiid. 
 Rich. Now, Cliflbrd, I have singled thee alone: 
 Suppose, this arm is lor the duke of Y'oik, 
 And this lor Rutland; bolh bound to revenge, 
 Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. 
 
 Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: 
 This is the hand that stabb'd thy lather York; 
 And this the hand that slew thy" brother Rutland ; 
 And here's the heart that triumphs in their deaih, 
 * lie dilatory. 
 
438 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act n. 
 
 And cheers tiiese hands, that slew thy sire and 
 
 brother, 
 To execute the like upon thyself; 
 And so have at tlice. 
 
 [Theij fight. Warwick enters ; CLiFFORD^f'e.?. 
 
 Ricli. IS ay, Warwick, single out some other chase ; 
 
 For 1 myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exeiud. 
 
 SCENE W.—Amiiker Part of ike Field, 
 Alarum. Enter Kino Hexry. 
 if. /few. This battle lares like to the moniing*s war, 
 When dying clouds contend with growing light; 
 WJiat time the shepherd, blowing ol his nails, 
 Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. 
 Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 
 Forced by the tide to combat witii the wind : 
 Now sways it that way, like the sell-same sea 
 ■Forced to retire by fury of the wind : 
 Sometime, the liood prevails; and then, the wind ; 
 Now, one the better ; then, another best; 
 Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, 
 Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered: 
 So is the equal poise ofthis fell war.# 
 Here on this molehill will I sit me down. 
 To whom God will, there be the victory ! 
 For Margaret, my queen, and Ciitlbrd too, 
 Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, 
 Tliey prosper best of all when I am thence. 
 Would I were dead! if Cod's good will were so: 
 For what is in this world, but griel"and woe? 
 i) God ! methinks, it were a happy lile, 
 To be no belter than a liomely swain ; 
 To sit upon a hill, as I do now. 
 To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
 Thereby to see llic minutes bow they run : 
 How many make the hour full complete, 
 How many hours bring about the day, 
 How many days will finish uj) the year, 
 How many years a mortal man may Jive. 
 When this is known, tlien to divide the times: 
 So many hours must 1 tend my ilock; 
 So many hours must I take my rest; 
 So many hours must I Cijntemplate ; 
 So many hours must 1 sport myself; 
 So many days my ewes have been with young; 
 So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; 
 So many years ere I shall shear the lleece: 
 So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, 
 Pass'd over to the end they were created, 
 Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 
 Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely I 
 Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
 To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep. 
 Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
 To kings, that fear tlieir subjects' treachery'! 
 O, yes it doth : a thousand fold it doth. 
 And to conclude. — the shepherd's homely curds. 
 His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. 
 His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's sliade, 
 All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 
 Is far beyond a prince's delicates. 
 His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 
 His body couched in a cnnous bed, 
 When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him. 
 
 Alarum. Enter a Son, th/d has killed his Father, 
 dragging in the dead Body. 
 
 Son. Ill blows the wind, that prolits nobody. — 
 This man, whom band to hand I slew in tight, 
 IVIay be possessed with some store of crowns: 
 And I, tliat haply take them from him now, 
 May yet ere night yield both my life and them 
 Til some man else, as this dead man doth me. — 
 Who's tins?— O God ! it is my father's face.^ 
 Whom in this conllict I unawares have kilFd. 
 () heavy times, begetting such events ! 
 From London by the king was I press'd forth; 
 I\iy lather, being the earl of Warwick's man. 
 Came on the pait of York, press'd by his master; 
 And I, who at his hands receiv'd my Iili', 
 Have by my hands of life bereaved bim.^ 
 Pardon me, God. I knew not what 1 did ! — 
 And jiardon. liilher, liir I knew not thee ! — 
 ^ly leais siiall wijM- a\\ay these bloody marks; 
 And no more words, till they have lluw'(.l their till. 
 
 I\. lliu. piteous spectacle! O biooily times! 
 Wlnlst lions war, and haltle lor their dens, 
 poor harmless lamlis abide their enmity. — 
 Weep, wretched man, I'll aid tliee tear lor tear; 
 
 And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war^ 
 Be blind with tears, and break overcharged with grief. 
 Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, with the 
 Body in his arms. 
 
 Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, 
 Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; 
 For I have bought it with an hundred blows. — 
 But let me see : — is this our foeman's face ^ 
 Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son ! — 
 Ah, boy, if any lite be lell in thee, 
 Throw up thine eye : see, see, what showers arise, 
 Blown With the wmay tempest of my heart, 
 Upon tliy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart I— 
 O, pit}', God, this miserable age! — 
 What stratagems,** how lell, how butcherly, 
 Krroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, 
 This deadly ijuarrel daily doth beget! — 
 O boy, th\ lalher gave tliec lile too soon. 
 And hath bercK tliee of thy life too late ! 
 
 K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than com- 
 mon grief! 
 O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! 
 O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity ! — 
 The red rose and the white are on his face, 
 The fatal colors of our striving houses: 
 The one, his purple blood right well resembles ; 
 The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present : 
 Wither one rose, and let the other tlourish ! 
 If you contend, a thousand lives must witiier. 
 
 Son. How will my mother, lor a liitlier's death, 
 Take on with me, and ne'er be satislied I 
 
 Fath. How will my wife, lor slaughter of my son, 
 Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satislied 1 
 
 A'. Jlen. How will the country, Ibr these woful 
 chances, 
 Mistliink the king, and not be satisfied? 
 
 Si>n. Was ever son, so rued a liither's death? 
 
 Fa/h. Was ever lather, so bemoan'd a son? 
 
 yi.iie/7.Was ever king,sogriev'd lor subjects' woe? 
 Much IS your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. 
 
 Son. I'll bear thee hence, where 1 may weep my 
 hll. {Exit, with the Body. 
 
 Fath. These arras of mine shall be thy winding- 
 sheet; 
 My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; 
 For li'om my heart thine image ne'er shall go. 
 My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; 
 And so obsequious" will thy lather be, 
 Sad for the loss of thee, having no more. 
 As Priam was for all Jiis valiant sons. 
 I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, 
 For 1 have murder'd where I siiould not kill. 
 
 [Exit, vnih the Body. 
 
 K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with 
 care. 
 Here sits a king more woful than you are. 
 Alarums: Excursitms. Enter Qiee^ Margaret, 
 Prince of Wales, afil Kxeter. 
 
 P/wce. Fly, father, Hy! lor all yourlriends are fled, 
 And Warwick rages like a chaled bull : 
 Away ! for death dotJi hold us in pursuit. 
 Q. Ma?: Mount yon, my lord, towards Berwick 
 post amain: 
 Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds. 
 Having the learful flying hare in sight, 
 With flery eyes, sparkling lor very wrath, 
 And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, 
 Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. 
 
 Exe.Awayl lor vengeance comes along with them: 
 Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; 
 Or else come after, I'll away before. 
 K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, go"d sweet 
 Kxeter ; 
 Not that I fear to stay, but love to go 
 Whither the queen intends. Forward; Away ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCE1SF.\1.— The same. 
 A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford, wounded. 
 ('lif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, 
 Whicl), while it lasted, gave iiing Henry light. 
 O. Lancaster! I fear thy overtiirow. 
 Mure llian my body's ]>arting with my soul. 
 M\ l(»ve, and lear, ghicd many friends to thee ; 
 And iii)W 1 tall, tliy toiii^h coiuniixtines melt. 
 Impairing Henry, stren,L;lii"mug nus-i»roud York, 
 * I. e. Dreadful events. 
 ' Caifful ot obsequies, ov funeral lites. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY YI. 
 
 439 
 
 Tlie common people swarm like summer flies : 
 And whither Ily the gnats, but to the sun"! 
 And who sliines now but Henry's enemies'! 
 
 Phcebus ! iiadst thou never given consent 
 That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, 
 Thy burning car never had scoreh'd the earth : 
 And Elcnry, hadst tJiou sway'd as kings should do, 
 Or as tliy fiitiier, Dud his father did, 
 
 Giving no ground unto the house of York, 
 They never then had sprung like summer flies ; 
 I, and ten thousand m this luckless realm. 
 Had letl no mourning widows for our death, 
 And thou this day hadst ke])t thy chair in peace. 
 >'or what doth cherish weeds but gentle airl 
 And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? 
 Bootless are plaints, and cureless arc my wounds ; 
 No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: 
 The toe is merciless, and will not pity ; 
 For, at their hands, I have dcserv'd no pity. 
 The air hath got into my deadly wounds. 
 And much elluse of blood doth make me faint : — 
 Come. York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; 
 
 1 stabb'd your liithers' bosoms, split my breast. 
 
 [Hefainls. 
 
 Alarum and Retreat. Enter EnwAiin, Gkorge, 
 
 RlCUARD, JVIONTAGUE, WARWICK, Uttll SoldiCrS. 
 
 Kdiu. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids 
 us pause. 
 And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. 
 Some troops pursue the liloody-minded (^ueen; — 
 That led calm Henry, lliough'he were a King, 
 As doth a sail, tilTd with a fretting gust, 
 Command an argosy to stem the waves. 
 But think you, lords, that Clitlbrd fled with them ? 
 
 War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape ; 
 For, though before his face 1 speak tlie words. 
 Your brotlier Richard mark'd him for the grave : 
 And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. 
 
 [Ci.iKFOiin groans and dies. 
 
 Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy 
 leave I 
 
 Ricti. A deadly groan, like life and death's de- 
 parting. 
 
 Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, 
 If friend, or foe, let him be gently used. 
 
 Kicli. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford ; 
 Who not contented lluit he lopp'd the branch 
 In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth. 
 But set his miudering knife unto the root 
 From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, 
 I mean your princely lather, duke of York. 
 
 War. From olf the gates of York fetch down 
 the head. 
 Your fatlier's head, wliich CHITord placed there: 
 Instead wliereof, let tliis sujiply the room; 
 Measure Ibr measure must be answered. 
 
 Edw. Bring forth that liital screech-owl to our 
 house. 
 That nothing sung but death to ua and ours : 
 
 Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound. 
 And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. 
 
 [Attendants Oring tlie Budy forward. 
 
 War. I think his understanduig is bcr'elt: — 
 Speak, Cliirord, dost thou know wiio speaks to thee] 
 Dark cloudy death o'crshadcs his beams of lil'e, 
 And he nor sees, nor liears us what w'c say. 
 
 Rich. (), 'w'oukl he did! and so, perhaps, he doth ; 
 'Tis hut his policy to counterfeit, 
 Because lie would avoid such bitter taunts. 
 Which in the time of death he gave our father. 
 
 (Jco. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager 
 words.^ 
 
 Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace 
 
 Edw. Clillord, repent in bootless penitence. 
 
 War. Cliflbrd, devise excuses for thy faults. 
 
 Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. 
 
 Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am jon to York. 
 
 Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. 
 
 f.Vo. Where's captain Margaret to fence you now] 
 
 War. They mock thee, Clilford! swear as thoa 
 wast wont. 
 
 Rich. What, not an oath? nay then the world 
 goes hard. 
 When Cliflbrd cannot spare his friends an oath : — 
 I know tjy tiiat he's dead; And, by my soul, 
 If this right hand would buy two hours' lile, 
 That I in all despite might rail at him. 
 This hand should chop it ofl'; and with the issuing 
 
 blood 
 Stifle the villiiin, whose unstaunched thirst 
 York and young Rutland could not satisfy. 
 
 War. .\y, but he's dead : Otf with the traitor's 
 head. 
 And rear it in the place your father's stands. — 
 And now to Loudon with triumphant march, 
 'f iiere to he crowned England's royal king ; 
 From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, 
 And ask the lady Bona lor thy queen : 
 So shall thou sinew both these lands together; 
 And, having France thy friend, thou shall not dread 
 The scattcr'd foe, that hopes to rise again ; 
 For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt. 
 Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine cars. 
 l'"irst, will I see the coronation ; 
 And then to Biilany I'll cross tlie sea. 
 To eflect this niarriagc, so it jilease my lord. 
 
 Edw. F.vcn as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be : 
 For on thy slxniider do I build my seat; 
 And never will 1 undertake the thing. 
 Wherein thy counsel iitid consent is wanting. — 
 Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster; — 
 And George, of Clarence — Warwick, as ourscif. 
 Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. 
 
 Rich. Let ine be duke of Clarence; George, of 
 Gloster; 
 For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. 
 
 IVar. Tut, that's a foolish observation ; 
 Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, 
 To see tiiesc honors in possession. [Ej:eu7it. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Chase in the North o/ England. 
 Enter tiuo Keepers, loith Cross-bows in their hands. 
 
 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll 
 
 shroud ourselves ; 
 For through this laund^ anon the deer will come; 
 .And in this covert will we make our stand. 
 Culling the principal of all the deer. 
 
 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 
 
 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross- 
 
 bow 
 Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. 
 Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: 
 And, for the time shall not seem tedious, 
 I'll ti'll thee what befell me on a day. 
 In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 
 
 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be 
 
 past. 
 Enter Ring Henry, 'rfiigtmcrf, with a Prayer-boot;. 
 K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure 
 love. 
 To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 
 » A idain extended between woods. 
 
 No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ; 
 
 Thy place is fdj'd, thy sceptre wrung fioni thee, 
 
 Thj' balm wash'd otf.wherewith thou wastanointed: 
 
 No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, 
 
 No humble suitors press to speak for right, 
 
 No, not a man comes for redress of thee. 
 
 For how can I help them, and not myself] 
 
 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's 
 
 fee : 
 This is (he tjuondam king ; let's seize upon him. 
 
 K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities: 
 For wise men say, it is the wisest course. 
 
 2 Keej). Why linger we ] let us lay hands upon 
 
 him. 
 1 A'ff;). Forbear awhile : we'll hear a little more. 
 A'. Hen. My queen and son, are gone to France 
 l()r aid ; 
 And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick 
 Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister 
 To wile for Edward : If this news be true. 
 Poor queen and son, your labor is but lost ; 
 For Warwick is a subtle orator, 
 
 » Sour words: words of aspei-ity. 
 
440 
 
 THIRD PART OP 
 
 Act III. 
 
 And Lewis a prince soon won witli moving words. 
 By llii.s account, then, Margaret may win him ; 
 For slie's a woman to bo pitied much : 
 Her sighs will rnalce a battery in his breast; 
 Her tears wiil pierce into a marble lieart; 
 Tile tiiicr will be mild, winle she tloth mourn; 
 And Nero will be tainted willi remorse. 
 To hear, and see, her piands. Iier brinish tears. 
 Ay, but she's cotne to beg ; Warwick, to give ; 
 Slie, on lijs leil side, craving aid tor Henry ; 
 He, on his right, asking a wile for Edward. 
 She weeps, and says — her Henry is depos'd ; 
 He smiles, and says — his Edward is install'd ; 
 That she, poor wretcli, for grief can speak no more : 
 Whiles Warwick tells his titles, smooths the wrong, 
 Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; 
 And, in conclusion, wins the king from tier, 
 With prouijse of his sister, and what else, 
 To strengthen and support king Etlward's place. 
 i) Margaret, thus 't«itl be ; and thou, poor soul, 
 Art then tbrsaken as thou went'st Ibrlorn. 
 
 2 Keep. Say, wiial art thou, that talk'st of kings 
 and queens ] 
 
 K. Hell. More than I seem, and less tlian 1 was 
 born to : 
 A man at least, for less I should not be; 
 Aiid jnen may talk of kings, and why not I ) 
 
 2 Kiip. Ay. but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. 
 
 K Hen. Why, so I am, in mmd; and that's 
 enough. 
 
 2 Keej). But if thou be a king, where is thy 
 crown 1 
 
 K.Hen. My crown is in my iieart, not on my head: 
 Not decked with diamonds, and Indian stones, 
 Nor to lie seen : my crown is call'd, content; 
 A cro\\ii it IS, that seldom kings enjoy. 
 
 2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown 'd with 
 content, 
 Your crown content, and you, must be contented 
 To go along witli us: lor, as we think. 
 You are llie king, Idng Edward hath depos'd ; 
 And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, 
 Will aj'prehend you as his enemy. 
 
 K. Htii. But did you never swear, and break an 
 oath ! 
 
 2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not now. 
 
 K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when 1 was king 
 of England '.' 
 
 2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now 
 remain. 
 
 K. Hen. I was anointed Icing at nine months old; 
 My fa'.lier and my grandlather, were kings ; 
 And you were sworn true subjects unto me: 
 And. tell me then, have you not broke your oaths! 
 
 1 Keep. No ; 
 For we were subjects but while you were king. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, ain I dead ! do I not breathe a 
 man ] 
 Ah. siraiile men, you know not what you swear. 
 Look, as I blow this ti-alher from my face, 
 And as the air blows it to me again, 
 Obeyuig with my wind when Ido blow. 
 And yielding to another when it blows, 
 Commanded always by the greater gust; 
 Such is Ihe lightness of you common men. 
 But do not break your oaths; lor, of that sin 
 Jly mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. 
 Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; 
 And be you kings: comiuand, and I'll obey. 
 
 1 Keep. We arc true subjects to the king, king 
 Edward. 
 
 K. Hi n. So would you be again to Henry, 
 If he were seated as king Edward is. 
 
 1 Keep. Wc charge you in God's name, and in 
 the king's. 
 To go with us unto the officers. 
 
 K. Hen. In God's name lead; your king's name 
 be obey'd : 
 And what God will, then let your king perform ; 
 And what he will, 1 humbly yield unto. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— London. A Room in ihe Palace. 
 
 Enter Ki.\<i Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and 
 Lady Grey. 
 JT. Eilw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field 
 Tills lady s husband, sir John Grey, was slain, 
 His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : 
 Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; 
 Which we injustice cannot well deny, 
 
 Because in quarrel of the house of York 
 The worthy gendeman did lose his life. 
 
 Glo. You r highness shall do well to grant her siiit ; 
 It w-ere dishonor, to deny it her. 
 K. Edit'. It were no less ; but yet I'll make a pause. 
 Ota. Yea ! is it so] 
 I see, the lady hath a thing to grant, 
 Belbre the king will grant her humble suit. 
 CLa. He knows the game; How true he keeps 
 
 the wind ? {.Aside. 
 
 Glo. Silence ! [Asiiie. 
 
 K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; 
 And come some other time, to know our mind. 
 L. Grey. Right gracious lord, 1 cannot brook 
 
 delay: 
 May it please your highness to resolve me now; 
 And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. 
 Glo. {Aside.} Ay, widow ! then I'll warrant you 
 
 all your lands. 
 An if what pleases him, shall pleasure you. 
 Fight closer, or, good liiith, you'll catch a blow, 
 t'tar. I fear her not, unless she chance to lall. 
 
 [Aside 
 Glo. God forbid that ! for he'll take vantages. 
 
 [Asiile. 
 K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow 1 
 
 tell me. 
 Clar. I think, he means to beg a child of her. 
 
 [Aside, 
 Glo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give her 
 
 two. [AsUle. 
 
 L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. 
 Glo. You shall have lour, if you'll be rul'd by 
 
 him. [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. 'Twere pity they should lose their 
 
 lather's land. 
 L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. 
 K. Edw. Lords, give us leave; I'U try this 
 
 W'idow's wit. 
 Glo. Ay. good leave have you; for you will have 
 
 h'a\'e. 
 Tin youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. 
 [Cluster and Clakenxe retire to the 
 other side. 
 K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love your 
 
 children 1 
 L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. 
 A". i'rfw. Andwould younotdomuch to do them 
 
 good ! 
 L. Grty. To do them good, I would sustain some 
 
 harm. 
 A'. Edw. Then get your husbimd's lands, to do 
 
 them good. 
 L. Grey. Therefore I came unto j'our majesty. 
 K.Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. 
 L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness' 
 
 service. 
 K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give 
 
 them '! 
 L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me 
 
 to do. 
 K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon. 
 L. Grey. No, gracious lord. e.\cept 1 cannot do it. 
 A". Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what 1 mean to 
 
 ask. 
 L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace 
 
 commands. 
 Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears 
 
 the marble. [Aside. 
 
 Clar. As red as hre ! nay, then her wax must 
 
 melt. [Aside. 
 
 L. Grey. Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear 
 
 my task 1 
 K. Edw. An easy task : 'tis but to love a king. 
 L. Grey. That's soon perlbrm'd, because 1 am a 
 
 subject. 
 K. Edw. \Vhy then, thy husband's lands I freely 
 
 give thee. 
 L. Grei/. I take my leave with many thousand 
 
 thanks. 
 G/o. The match is made ; shesealsit with a curt'sy. 
 K.Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I 
 
 mean. 
 L. Grey. The fi-uits of love I mean, my loving 
 
 liefie. 
 A'. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. 
 What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get] 
 L. Grey. My love till death, my humble Ihaiiks, 
 
 my prayers ; 
 That love whicii virtue begs, and virtue grants. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 441 
 
 A". Edu: No, by my tvolh, I did not mean sucii 
 
 love. 
 L. Grey. Wliy then you mean not as I thouglit 
 
 jou did. 
 A'. £dw. But now you partly may perceive my 
 mind. " 
 
 L. Grey. My mind will never grrant what I perceive 
 Your highness aims at, ifl aim aright. 
 A. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. 
 L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in 
 
 prison. 
 A. Eihv. Why, then thou shalt not have thy 
 
 husband's land.s. 
 L. Grey. Wliy, then mine honesty shall he my 
 dower; 
 For by tliat loss I will not piircliase them. 
 A'. Edw. Tlierein thou wrong'st thy cliildren 
 
 mightily. 
 L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both 
 them and me. 
 But, mighty lord, this merry inclination 
 Accords not with tlie sadness of my suit; 
 Please you, dismiss me, eiliier with ay, or no. 
 
 K. Edw. Ay ; il" thou wilt say ay, to my request : 
 No ; if thou dost say no, to my demand. 
 L. G«'y. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. 
 Glo. The widow likes him not; she knits her 
 brows. [Aside. 
 
 Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. 
 
 [Asi/le. 
 K. Edw. [AHde.] Her looks do argue her replete 
 witll modesty ; 
 Her words do show her wit incomparable; 
 All her perlcctions cliallenge sovereignty: 
 One way, or oilier, slic is fur a king ; 
 And slie sliall be my love, or else my queen. — 
 Say, tliat king Edward take thee for his queen'? 
 L. Grey. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious 
 lord: 
 I am a suliject fit to jest withal, 
 But tar unht to be a sovereign. 
 K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to 
 thee, 
 I speak no more than what my soul intends ; 
 And that is to enjoy tliee tor my love. 
 
 L. Grey. And tliat is more than I vi'ill yield unto: 
 I know, 1 am too mean to he your queen ; 
 And yet too good to be your concubine. 
 .A. Edw. Vou cavil, widow ; 1 did mean my queen. 
 L. Grey. Twill grieve your grace, my sons 
 
 should call you— liiihcr. 
 A'. Edw. No more, than when thy daughters call 
 thee mother. 
 Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children ; 
 And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, 
 Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing 
 To be the father unto many sons. 
 Answer no more, for Ihou shalt be my queen. 
 Glo. The ghostly liillier now hath done his shrift. 
 
 Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for 
 
 shitt. [Aside. 
 
 K.Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two' 
 
 have bad. 
 GUi. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. 
 h.Edw.Yoa d think it strange il I should marry 
 her. ' 
 
 Clar. To whom, my lord I 
 
 ■^; '''if:' , , . ^^''J'. Clarence, to myself. 
 
 G to. That would be ten days' wonder, at the least. 
 Uar. That s a day longer than a wonder lasts. 
 Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes. 
 h. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers, I can tc" vou 
 both, ■ ■' 
 
 Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. 
 Enter a Nobleman. 
 Null My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken 
 And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. 
 K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the 
 Tower.— 
 And go we. brothers, to tile man that took him. 
 To question of his apprehension.— 
 Widow, go you along; lords, use her honorable. 
 [Exeun-t Kinu Edward, Lady Gbet, 
 Clahence, and Lord. 
 »..? , ,J' Edward will use women honorably. 
 Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all 
 That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring 
 To cross me from the golden time I look lor ' 
 
 And yet, between mv soul's desire and me, 
 
 (The lusttul Edward's title buried,) 
 
 Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, 
 
 And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, 
 
 To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: 
 
 A cold premeditation lor my purpose ! 
 
 Why, then 1 do but dream on sovereignty; 
 
 Like one that stands upon a promontory. 
 
 And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, 
 
 Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ; 
 
 And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, 
 
 Saying — he'll lade it dry to have his way; 
 
 So do I wish the crown, being so far oft'; 
 
 And .so 1 cliide the means that keep me from it; 
 
 And so I say — I'll cut the causes oil. 
 
 Flattering me with impossibilities. — 
 
 My eye's too quick, my heart o'erwecns too much, 
 
 Unless my hand and strength could equal tiicm. 
 
 Well, sav there is no kingdom then for Richard; 
 
 What other pleasure can the world aflbrd ] 
 
 ril make my heaven in a lady's lap, 
 
 I'll deck my body in gay ornaments. 
 
 And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. 
 
 miserable thought! and more unlikely. 
 Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! 
 Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : 
 And, lor I should not deal in her soft laws. 
 She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe 
 To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; 
 To make an envious mountain on my back, 
 Where sits delbrnuty to mock my body; 
 
 To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 
 
 To disproportion me in every part. 
 
 Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, 
 
 That carries no impression hke the dam. 
 
 And am 1 then a man lo be belov'd ? 
 
 O, monstrous fault, to harbor such a thought ! 
 
 Then, since this earth allbrds no joy to me. 
 
 But to command, to check, to o'erbear such 
 
 .\s are of belter person than myself, 
 
 I'll make my heaven — to dream upon the crown; 
 
 And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, 
 
 Until my niis-shan'd trunk, that bears this head, 
 
 Be round imiialed' with a glorious crown. 
 
 And yet I know not how to get the crown. 
 
 For many lives stand between me and home : 
 
 And I. — like one lost in a thorny wood. 
 
 That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns; 
 
 Seeking a way, and straying from the way; 
 
 Not knowing how to lind the open air. 
 
 But toiling desperately to lind it out — 
 
 Torment myself to catch the English crown: 
 
 And from that torment I will free myself, 
 
 Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. 
 
 Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; 
 
 And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart. 
 
 And wet my checks with artilicial tears, 
 
 And frame my liice to all occasions. 
 
 I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; 
 
 I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; 
 
 I'll play tile orator as well as Nestor, 
 
 Deceive more silly than Ulysses could, 
 
 And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. 
 
 1 can add colors to the caineleon ; 
 
 Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, 
 And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. 
 Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ! 
 Tut ! were it further off, I'd pluck it down. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— France. A Room in tlit Palace, 
 Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King.onrf Lady 
 
 V,t)S.\. attended ; tlie King takes tiis state. Then 
 
 enter Qlken Margaket, Pki.nce Euwaub her Hon, 
 
 and tlie Earl of Oxford. 
 
 K. Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy Mar- 
 garet, [Risine. 
 Sit down with ns; it ill befits thy state. 
 And birlli. that thou should'st stand, while Lewis 
 doth sit. 
 
 Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France ; now Mar- 
 garet 
 Must strike her sail, and learn a while to serve, 
 Where kings command. I was, I must confess, 
 dreat Albion's queen in former golden dajs: 
 But now mischance hath trod my title down, 
 And with dishonor laid me on the ground. 
 Where 1 must take like seat unto my fortune, 
 And to my humble seat conform myself. 
 » Encircled. 
 
442 
 
 THIRD PAET OF 
 
 Act. m. 
 
 A'. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs 
 
 Ihis deep despair ? 
 Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes 
 with tears, 
 And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in 
 cares. 
 K. Lew. Whatc'er it be, be thou still like thyself, 
 And sit thee by our side : yield not tliy neck 
 
 [Seats her by him. 
 To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind 
 Still ride in triumph over all mischance. 
 Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; 
 It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief. 
 Q. Mar, Those gracious words revive my droop- 
 ing thoughts. 
 And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. 
 Now, therelbre, be it known to noble Lewis, — 
 Th;it Henry, sole possessor of my love, 
 Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, 
 And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn ; 
 'While proud ambitious Edward duke of York, 
 Usurps the regal title, and the seat 
 Of England's true-anointed lawful king. 
 This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret, — 
 With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's heir, — 
 Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ; 
 And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done: 
 Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help ; 
 Our people and our peers are both misled, 
 Our treasure sciz'd, our soldiers put to flight, 
 And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. 
 K. Lew. Renowned queen, with jjatience calm 
 the storm. 
 While we bethink a means to break it off. 
 
 Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows 
 
 our foe. 
 K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succor 
 
 thee. 
 Q. Mar, O, but impatience. waiteth on true sor- 
 row : 
 And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow. 
 
 Enter Warwick, attended, 
 
 A'. Lew. WJiat's he, approacheth boldly to our 
 presence \ 
 
 Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest 
 friend. 
 
 A'. Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings 
 thee to France ] 
 
 [Descending from his state. Queen Margaret 
 7'ises. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise ; 
 For this is he, that moves both wind and tide. 
 
 War. From worthy Edward, king of Albion, 
 My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
 I come, — in kindness, and unfeigned love, — 
 First, to do greetings to thy royal person ; 
 And, then, to crave a league of amity; 
 And, lastly, to confirm that amity 
 With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant 
 That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister, 
 To England's king in lawful marriage. 
 
 Q, Mar. If that go forward, Henry's hope is 
 done. 
 
 War. And. gracious madam, [To BoxA,]! in our 
 king's behalf. ^ 
 
 I am commanded, with your leave and favor. 
 Humbly tu kiss your hand, and with my tongue 
 To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart : 
 Where lame, late entering at his iieedful ears, 
 Haih ])laced thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. 
 
 Q. Mar. King Lewis, — ana Lady Bona,— hear 
 me speak, 
 Befi.ire you answer AVarwick. His demand 
 Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, 
 But liom deceit, bred by necessity; 
 For liow can tyrants salely govern home, 
 Unless abroad they purchase jjreat alhanceT 
 To i)rove hnn tyrant, this reason may suffice, — 
 That Henry liveth still : but were he dead. 
 Yet here prince Edward stands, king Henry's son. 
 Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and mar- 
 riage 
 Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonor: 
 For though usurpers "sway the rule awhile, 
 Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrong. 
 
 War. Injurious Margaret. 
 
 prince. And why not queen? 
 
 War. Because thy father Henry did usurp; 
 And thou no more art prince, than she is queen. 
 
 0.if. Then Warwick disannuls great Jonn of 
 Gaunt, 
 Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain* 
 And after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, 
 Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; 
 And, afler that wise prince. Henry the I-'illh, 
 Wlio by his prowess conquered all France: 
 From these our PJenry lineally descends. 
 
 Wa?: Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth dis- 
 course, t 
 You told not, how Henry the Sixth hath lost 
 All that which Henry the Filth liad gotten ] 
 Methinks, these peers of France should smile at 
 
 that. 
 But for the rest, — You tell a pedigree 
 Of three-score ar\d two years; a silly tiine 
 To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. 
 
 Ouf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against 
 thy liege, 
 Whom thou obeyedst thirty-and-six years. 
 And not bewray thy treason with a blush 1 
 
 War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, 
 Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? 
 For shame, leave Henrj', and call Edward king. 
 
 Oxf'. Call him my king, by whose injurious doom 
 My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere, 
 Was done to death? and more than so my father, 
 Even in the downlall of his mellow'd years, 
 When nature brought liiin to the door of death! 
 No, Warwick, no; while lite upholds this arm, 
 This arm upholds the house of Lancaster, 
 
 War, And I the house of York. 
 
 A". Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, and 
 Oxford, 
 Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside. 
 While I use further conference with Warwick. 
 
 Q. Mar. Heaven grant that Warwick's words 
 bewitch him not ! 
 
 [Retiring with the Pm^CE and Oxford. 
 
 A'. Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy 
 conscience. 
 Is Edward your true king ? for I were loath. 
 To link with him that were not lawful chosen. 
 
 IVar. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honor. 
 
 A'. Lew. But is he gracious in the people's eye? 
 
 JVar. The more, that Henry was unfortunate. 
 
 K.Leiv. Then further,— all dissembling set aside. 
 Tell me for truth tlie measure of his love 
 Unto our sister Bona. 
 
 War. Such it seems, * 
 
 As may beseem a monarch like himself. 
 Myself have olten heard him say, and swear, — 
 That this his love was an eternal plant; 
 Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, 
 The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun; 
 Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, 
 Unless the lady Bona quit his pain. 
 
 A'. Lew. Now, sister, let us iiear your firm resolve. 
 
 Bona. Yourgrant, or your denial, shall be mine. 
 Yet I confess, [To War.] tJiat olten ere tijis day. 
 When I have heard your king's desert recounted, 
 Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. 
 
 A'. Lew. Then, Warwick, thus,— Our sister shall 
 be Edward's ; 
 And now forthwith shall articles be drawn 
 Touching the jointure that your king must make, 
 Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd:^ 
 Draw near, queen Margaret; and be a witness, 
 That Bona sJiall be wife to the English kins. 
 
 Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king. 
 
 Q. Mar, Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device 
 By this alliance to make void my suit; 
 Before thy cominfi, Lewis was Henry's friend. 
 
 K. I^ew. And still is friend to him and Margaret; 
 But if your title to the crown be weak,— 
 As may appear by Edward's good success, — 
 Then 'tis but reason that I be reieas'd 
 From giving aid, which late I promised. 
 Yet -shall you have all kindness at my hand. 
 That your estate requires, and mine can yield. 
 
 IVar. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his ease; 
 Wliere having nothing, nothing he can lose. 
 And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, — 
 You have a father able to nianititin you ; 
 And better 'twere you troubled him* than France. 
 
 Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless War- 
 wick, peace ; 
 Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings! 
 I will not hence, till with my talk and tears, 
 Botli full of truth, 1 lUiiKe king Lewis behold 
 
Act IV. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 443 
 
 Thy sly conveyance,* and thy lord*s false love ; 
 For both of you are birds of self-same feather. 
 
 [A Horn suuwled wUhin. 
 K' Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee. 
 
 Enfer a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, ambassador, these letters are for 
 you ; 
 Sent from your brother, marquis Montague. 
 These from our^ii'ig unto your majesty.— 
 And, madam, these for you; from whom I know 
 not. 
 [To Margaret. They all read their Letters. 
 
 Oxf. Hike it well, that our fair c^ueen and mistress 
 Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. 
 
 Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as he 
 were nettled ; 
 I hope all's for the best. 
 
 A'. Lew. Warwick, what are thy news? and 
 yours, lair queen \ 
 
 Q. Mar. Mine, such as till my heart with unhop'd 
 joys. 
 
 JVar. Mine.tuU of sorrow,and heart s discontent. 
 
 K. Lew. What! has your king married the lady 
 Grey? 
 And now, to soothe your forgery and his, 
 Sends me a paper to persuade jue patience ? 
 Is this tlie alliance that he seeks with France? 
 Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? 
 
 Q, Mar. I told your majesty as much betbre : 
 This provcth Edward's love, and Warwick's ho- 
 nesty. 
 
 IVar. King Lewis, I here protest, — in sight of 
 heaven. 
 And by tJie hope I have of heavenly bliss, — 
 That 1 am clear from this misdeed of Kd ward's; 
 No more my king, tor he dishonors me; 
 But most himself, if he could see his shame. — 
 Did I forget, lliat by the house of York 
 My fatiier came untimely to his death ? 
 Did I lot pass tile abuse done to my niece ? 
 Did 1 impale him wilii tlie regal crown ! 
 Did I put Henry from his native rigJit; 
 And am I gucrdon'ds at the last w-itii shame? 
 Shame on himself! lor my desert is honor. 
 And to repair my honor lost for him, 
 1 here renounce iiim, and return to ilenry : 
 My noble queen, let Ibrmer grudges pass, 
 And henceforth I am tiiy true servitor; 
 I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona, 
 And replant Henry in lus Ibrmer state. 
 
 Q, Mar. Warwick, these words have turn'd my 
 hate to love ; 
 And I forgive and quite forget old faults, 
 Au'l joy tiiat thou becom'st king Henry's friend. 
 
 il'ur. So much his friend, ay, his unteigned friend. 
 That, if king Lewis vouchsaie to furnish us 
 Witli some lew bands of chosen soldiers, 
 I'll undertake to land tliem on our coast. 
 And tbrce the tyrant Irom lii.s seat by war. 
 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him: 
 And as for Clarence, — as my letters tell me, 
 He's very likely now to fall from him ; 
 For matching more for wanton lust than honor, 
 Or than for strength and salety of our country. 
 
 Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be re 
 veuged, 
 But by tliy help to this distressed queen? 
 
 Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor Hen- 
 ry live. 
 Unless thou rescue him fi-om foul despair? 
 Bona. My quarrel, and this English queen's, are 
 
 one. 
 War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with 
 
 yours. 
 A'. Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and 
 Margaret's. 
 Therefore at last, I firmly am resolv'd, 
 You shall have aid. 
 Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for all at 
 
 once. 
 A^ Lew. Then England*s messenger, return in 
 post ; 
 And tell false Edward, thy supposed king. — 
 That Lewis of France is sending over maskers, 
 To revel it with him and his new bride: 
 TJiou set'St what's past, go fear» thy king withal. 
 Bona. Tell him. In hope he'll prove a widower 
 shortly, 
 I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. 
 Q. Mar. Tell liim. My mourning weeds are laid 
 aside, 
 And I am ready to put armor on. 
 
 War. Tell Inm from me, That he hath done me 
 wrong ; 
 And therefore I'll uncrown him erc't be long. 
 Tiiorc's thy reward: begone. [Exit Mess. 
 
 A'. Lew But, Warwick, thou, 
 
 And Oxford, with five thousand men, 
 Shall cross the seas, and bid ial?e Edward battle: 
 And. as occasion serves, this noble queen 
 And prince shall IbUow with a fresh supply. 
 Yet, ere thou go. but answer me one doubt; — 
 What pledge liave we of thy firm loyalty 1 
 
 War. Tliis sJiall assure my constant loyally; — 
 That if our queen and this young prince agree, 
 I'll join mine eldest daughter, and my joy, 
 To him forthwilli in holy wedlock bands. 
 Q. Mar. Yes, i agree, and tliank ^ou for your 
 motion: — 
 Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, 
 Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick: 
 And, with thy hand, thy laith irrevocable. 
 That only WarwickVdaughter shall be thine. 
 Prince. Yes, I accept her, lor she well deserves 
 it: 
 And here to pledge my vow, I give my hand. 
 
 [Jle f^ircs his hand to Wauwick. 
 AT. Lew. Why stay we now ! These soldiers shall 
 be levied. 
 And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, 
 Shalt watt them over with our royal fleet. — 
 I long, till Edward tail by war's mischance. 
 For mocking marriage witli a dame of France. 
 
 [Exeujit all bat Warwick. 
 War, I came from E(fward as ambassador. 
 But I return his sworn and mortal foe: 
 IMallor of marriage was the charge he gave me, 
 But dreadful war shall answer his demand. 
 Had he none else to make a stale,^ but me ? 
 Then none but 1 sliall turn his jest to sorrow. 
 1 was the chief that rais'd him to the crown. 
 And I'll be chief to bring him down again: 
 Not tliaAI pity Henry's misery, 
 But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. 
 
 [EjcU. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 knter Gloster, Clarence, Somerset, Montague, 
 and others. 
 Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think 
 you 
 Of this new marriage with the lady Grey? 
 Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ? 
 Ciar. Alas, you know, 'tis far horn hence to 
 France ; 
 How could he stay till Warwick made return? 
 Sum. My lords, forbear this talk; here comes 
 tlie king. 
 
 ^ JuiTsUn ' 
 
 3 Rewarded. 
 
 Flimrish. Enter King Edward, fl'/Ze/iffc^?; Lady 
 Gu^\, as Queen i PEiiBuoKE, Stafford, Hastings, 
 and otkera. 
 
 Glo. And his well-chosen bride. 
 Ctar. I mind lo tell him plainly what I think. 
 K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like 
 you our choice, 
 That you stand pensive, as half malcontent ? 
 Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl of 
 Warwick ; 
 Which are so weak of courage, and in judgment, 
 That they'll take no offence at our abuse. 
 
 * Fiightun. 
 
 » A stalkiug-Iiorse, a pretence. 
 
444 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 K. Edicu Suppose they take oflence without a 
 cause, 
 Tliey are but Lewis and Warwick; I am Edward, 
 Vour Jiing and Warwick's, and must have my 
 will. 
 Glo. And you shall iiave your will, because our 
 king : 
 Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. 
 K. Edw. Yea, brother llichard, arc 3 ou oflended 
 
 tool 
 Glo. Not I : 
 No; God forbid, that I should wish them sever'd 
 Whom God hath joiu'd together: ay. and 'twere 
 
 pity, 
 To sunder them that yoke so well together. 
 K. Edw. Setting your scorns, and your mislike, 
 aside, 
 Teil me some reason, why the lady Grey 
 Should not become my wife, and England's 
 
 queen : — 
 And you too, Somerset, and Montague, 
 Speak IVcoIy wliat you think. 
 
 CUir. Then this is my opinion, — that Idng Lewis 
 Becomes your enemy, ibr mocking him 
 About the marriage of the lady liona. 
 
 Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave in 
 charge, 
 Is now dishonored by this new marriage, 
 K. Edw. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be 
 appeas'd, 
 By such invention as I can devise? 
 Mont. Yet to have joiii'd with France m such 
 alliance, 
 Would more have strengthened this our common- 
 wealth 
 'Gainst foreign storms, tlian any home-bred mar- 
 riage. 
 Hast. Why, knows not Montague, that of itself 
 England is safi;, if true within itscU"? 
 Mont. Yes; but the saler, when 'tis back'd with 
 
 France. 
 }lai<i. 'Tis better using France, than trusting 
 France : 
 Lpt us be back'd with God, and with the seas, 
 Wliich he hath given lor fence impregnable, 
 And with their helps only defend ourselves; 
 In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies, 
 
 Ctar. For this one speech, lord Hastings well 
 deserves 
 To have the heir of the lord Hungerford. 
 K. Edw. All, what of that 1 it was my will, and 
 grant; 
 And. for this once, my will shall stand for law. 
 Glo. And yet, meLhinks, your grace hath not 
 (.lone well, 
 To give the heir and daughter of lord Scales 
 Unto Ihe brother of your loving bride; 
 She better would bave titted me, or Clarence : 
 But in your bride you bury brotherhood. 
 CUir. Or else you would not have bestow'd the 
 heir 
 Of the lord Bonville on your new wife's son, 
 And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. 
 A'. Kdw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wite, 
 That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. 
 Clar. In choosing for yourself, you show'd your 
 judgment; 
 Which being shallow, j'ou shall give me leave 
 To play the broker in mine own behalf; 
 And, to that end, I shortly mind to leave you. 
 K. Edw. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be 
 king. 
 And not be tied unto his brother s will. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My lords, before it pleas'd his majesty 
 To raise my state to title of a queen, 
 Do me but right, and you must all confess 
 That I was not ignoble of descent, 
 And tneimer than myself have had like fortune. 
 But as this title honors me and mine, 
 So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing. 
 Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. 
 K. Edw. My love, forbear to fawn upon their 
 frowns: 
 What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee. 
 So long as Edward i-^ thy constant friend, 
 And Iheir trne sovereigii, whom they must obcj'? 
 Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, 
 Unless tiiey seek for haired at my hands: 
 Whicii il tlioy do^ yet will 1 keep thee safe. 
 And itiey siiall ieel the vengeance of my wratli. 
 
 Glo. I hear, yet say not much, but think the 
 more. [Aside, 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters, or what 
 news, 
 From France 1 
 Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters; and few 
 words, 
 But such as I without your speciabpardon. 
 Dare not i-elate. 
 K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore, in 
 brief. 
 Tell mc their words as near aa thou canst guess 
 
 them. 
 What answer makes king Lewis unto our letters'? 
 Mess. At my depart these were liis very words: 
 Go tellfal.^e Edward, thy supposed kinf^,— 
 That I^etvis of France is- sending over maskers. 
 To revel it iv'ith him and his nev- bride. 
 K. Edw. Is Lewis so brave 1 belike, he thinks 
 me Henry. 
 But what said lady Bona to my niarriage 
 Mess. These were her words, utter'd with mild 
 disdain : 
 Tell hi7n, in hope he'll prove a ividoioer shortly j 
 I'll wear the ivitl^nv garland for his sake. 
 K. Edw. I blame not her, she could say little 
 less; 
 She had the wrong. But whatsaid Henry's queenl 
 For I have heard that she was there in place. 
 Mess. Tell him, quolh shCy 7ny jnouming weeds 
 are done, 
 And lam ready to put armor on. 
 
 K. Edw. Belike, she minds to play the Amazon. 
 But what said Warwick to these injuries 1 
 
 Mess. He, more incens'd against your majesty 
 Than all the rest, discharged nie with these words: 
 Ttit him from me, that he hath done fne wrong; 
 And therefore. Til unarnvn him, ere'/ be long. 
 K. Edw. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so 
 proud words ? 
 Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd ; 
 They shall havewars,and pay for their presumption. 
 But stay, is Warwick friends with Margaret! 
 Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign; they aresolink'd 
 in friendship. 
 That young prince Edward marries Warwick's 
 daughter. 
 Clar. Belike, the elder ; Clarence will have the 
 younger. 
 Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, 
 P^or I will hence to Warwick's other daughter; 
 Ttiat, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage 
 I may not prove inferior to yourself. — 
 You, that love me and Warwick, follow me. 
 
 [Exit Clarence, and Somerskt follows. 
 Glo. Not I: 
 My thoughts aim at a further matter; I 
 Stay not Ibr love of Edward, but the crown. \_Aside. 
 K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone to 
 Warwick ! 
 Y''et am I arm'd against the worst can happen ; 
 And haste is needful in this desperate ease. — 
 Pembroke, and Stattbrd, you in our behalf 
 Go levy men, and make prepare lor war; 
 They are already, or qi^jckly will be landed: 
 Myself m person will straight ibllow you. 
 
 [Exeunt rEMiiRoia-: and Stafford 
 But, ere I go, Hastings, — and Montague, — 
 Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, 
 Arc near to Warwick, by blood, and by alliance : 
 Tell mc, if you love Warwick more than me ] 
 If it be so, then both depart to him ; 
 I rather wish you loes tlian hollow friends; 
 Hut if you mind to hold your true obedience, 
 (iive nie assurance witli some friendly vow, 
 That I may never have you in suspect. 
 Mont. So God help Montague, as he proves 
 
 true! 
 Hast. And Hastings, as he favors Edward's 
 
 cause ! 
 A'. Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand 
 
 by us ] 
 Gto. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand 
 
 you. 
 A'. Edw. Why so; then am I sure of victory. 
 Now therefore let us hence ; and lose no hour, 
 Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. 
 
 [ExcwU 
 
Scene V. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 445 
 
 SCENE U.—A Plain in Warwickshire. 
 
 Enter Warwick and OXFonn, u'il/t French and 
 
 of her Fui'ce-'>: 
 
 War. Trust mp, my lord, nil hitherto goes well; 
 Tlie coninion peojile by numbers swarm to us. 
 
 £n/erCLAnExcE an<L Someiiset. 
 But, see, wliere Somerset and Clarence come; — 
 Speak suddeiiiy, my lords, arc we all Iriends ! 
 
 C!ar. Fear not that, my lord. 
 
 IKo?-. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto War- 
 wick ; 
 And welcome, Somerset: — I hold it cowardice, 
 To rest mistrustful where a noble heart 
 llalli pawn'd an opeji hand in sign ol'love; 
 Else mife'ht I think, Uiat Clarence, Edward's brother, 
 Were but a ieigned (riend to our proceedings; 
 But welcome, Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. 
 And now what rests, but, ni night's coverture, 
 Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, 
 Ills soldiers lurking in the lowns about. 
 And but allended liy a simjile guard. 
 We may .surprise and take liim at our pleasure? 
 Our scouts have found the adventure very easy : 
 That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede, 
 With sleight and manhood stole to Khesus' tents. 
 And brought Irom thence the Thracian fatal steeds; 
 So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, 
 At unawares may beat down Edward's guard. 
 And seize himself: I say not— slaughter him, 
 For I intend but only to surprise him.— 
 You, that will follow me to this adempt. 
 Applaud the name of Henry, wilh your leader. 
 
 [They'ull cry li^SRX\ 
 Why, then, let s on our way in silent sort : 
 For Warwick and his Iriends, God and saint George ! 
 
 [Kxeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Edward's Camp near Warwick. 
 Enier certain Watchmen, to guard the King's Tent. 
 
 I IVatcti. Come on, my masters, each man take 
 his stand ; 
 The king, by this, is .set him down to sleep. 
 
 ■2 Ifiilrh. What, will he not to bed ? 
 
 1 1 1 'a/ch. Why, no : for he hath made a solemn vow 
 Never to lie and take his natural rest. 
 
 Till Warwick, or himself, be quite suppress'd. 
 
 2 IVatck. To-morrow then, belike,shall be the day. 
 If Warwick lie so near as men report. 
 
 3 IVulch. Hut say, 1 pra^', what nobleman is that. 
 That ujih the king here festeth in his tent] 
 
 1 IVuicli. 'Tis the lord Hastings, the king's cliief- 
 
 est friend. 
 3 nVz/cA. O.isitso? liutwliv commands the king. 
 That his chief followers lodge in towns about him. 
 While he him.self keepcth in the cold field ] 
 
 2 H'atch. 'Tis the more honor, because more 
 
 dangerous. 
 
 3 l(7;/c/(.Ay; but give me worship and quietness, 
 
 I like it better than a dangerous honor. 
 
 II Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 
 Tis In be (bnilitcd, he would waken him. 
 
 1 IVutc/i. Unless our halberds did shut up his 
 
 passage. 
 
 2 If a/cA. Ay; wherefore else guardwe his royal tent. 
 But to defend his person from night-lbes] 
 
 Enter Warimck, Ci-arexc-^, O.xford, Somerset, 
 and Farces, 
 ll'ar. This is his tent; and see, where stand his 
 guard. 
 Courage, my masters; honor now, or never! 
 But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. 
 
 1 (r«/cA. Who goes there ! 
 
 2 U'atc/i. Stay, or thou diest. 
 
 [Warwick, and t/ie rest, cry oH— Warwick! 
 Warwick! and set upon t lie guard; w/uifli/, 
 crying— Arm ! Arm ! Warwick, and the 
 rest, J'olluwing them. 
 The Brum beating, and Trumpets sounding, re- 
 enter Warwick, and the rest, bringing tlie 
 Kixii out in a Gown, silting in a Chair; Glus- 
 TER and Hastixus //;/. 
 
 Sam. What are they that fly there ' 
 
 War. Richard, and Hastings: let them go, here's 
 
 the duke. 
 K.Edw. The duke! why, Warwick, when we 
 parted last. 
 Thou call'dst me king. 
 
 War. Ay, but the case is altcr'd : 
 
 When you disgraced me in my embassade, 
 Then 1 degraded you from being king. 
 And come now to create you duke of York. 
 Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom, 
 That know not how to use ambassadors; 
 Nor how to be contented with one wife; 
 Nor how to use your brothers brotherly ; 
 Nor how to study lor the people's wellare; 
 Kor how to shroud yourself lioni enemies^ 
 K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here 
 too ! 
 Nay, then I see, that Edward needs must down. — 
 Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance. 
 Of tliee thyself, and all thy complices, 
 Edward will always bear himself as king: 
 Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, 
 My mind exceeds tile compass of he{ wheel. 
 War. Then, for his mind," be Edward England's 
 king: [TatxesvD' his crown. 
 
 But Henry iiow shall wear the English crown. 
 And be true king indeed; thou but the shadow. — 
 My lord ol Somerset, at my request. 
 Sec that forthwith duke Edward be convey'd 
 Unto my brother, archbishop of York. 
 VVhen I have louglit wilh Pembroke and his fellows, 
 I II Ibllow you, and tell what answer 
 Lewis, and the lady Bona, send to him : 
 Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York. 
 K. Edw. What fates impose, that men must needs 
 abide; 
 It boots not to resist both wind and tide. 
 
 [A'j'tY King Edw aud, ted out; Somerset 
 tuiJh him. 
 Ojf. What now remains, my lords, for us to do, 
 But march to London with our soldiers ! 
 
 It-'ar. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do; 
 To tree king Henry from imprisonment. 
 And see him seated in the regal throne. [Exeunt. 
 SCENE IV.— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Qceex Elizabetu and Ri\ ers. 
 Riv. Madam, what makes you in this sudden 
 
 change? 
 Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn, 
 What late misfortune is befall'ii king Edward? 
 Riv. What, loss of some pitch'd "battle against 
 
 Warwick ? 
 Q. Eliz. No, but tile loss of his own' royal person. 
 Riv. Then, is my sovereign slain? 
 y. El'v:. Ay. almost slain, lor he is taken prisoner, 
 Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard, 
 Or by his foe surprised at unawares : 
 And, as I further have to understand. 
 Is new committed to the bishop of York, 
 Fell Warwick's brother, and by that.our foe. 
 
 Riv. These news, I must conless, are lull of grief: 
 Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may ; 
 Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. 
 Q. Eliz. Till then, liiir hope must hinder life's 
 de^'ay. 
 And I the rather wean me from despair, 
 For love of Edward's otlspring in my womb : 
 This is it that makes me bridle ]tassion. 
 And bear with mildness my misibrtuiie's cross; 
 Ay, ay, for this 1 draw in niany a tear. 
 And stop the rising of blood-sticking sighs. 
 Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown 
 King Edward'struit,truc heir to the English crown, 
 /iic. But, madam, where Is Warwick tliiu become? 
 Q. Eliz. 1 am informed, that he conies towards 
 London, 
 To set the crown once more on Henry's head : 
 Guess thou the rest; king Edward's friends must 
 
 down. 
 But to prevent the tyrant's violence, 
 (For trust not him that hath once broken faith,) 
 I'll hence Ibrthwith unto the sanctuary. 
 To save at least the heir of Edward's right ; 
 There shall 1 rest secure from force, and fraud. 
 Come therefore, let us tly, while we may lly ; 
 If Warwick take us, we are sure to die.' [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— ,1 Pari! near Middleham Castle in 
 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Hasting.s, Sir William Stanley, 
 
 and. others. 
 
 Gto. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir William 
 
 Stanley, 
 
 8 i. e. In his miud ; as fjir as his own minJ goes. 
 
440 
 
 THIRD PART OP 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Leave oft to wonder why I drew you hither, 
 
 Into this chiefest thicket of the park. 
 
 Thus stands the caae: You know, our king, my 
 
 brother. 
 Is prIsoner»to the bishop here, at whose hands 
 He hath good usa^e and great liberty ; 
 And olteii, but attended with weak guard, 
 Comes hunting this way to disport himself. 
 I have adverlis'd him by secret means, 
 That if about this hour, he make this way, 
 Under the color of his usual game, 
 He shall here find his friends, with horse and men, 
 To set him tree fiom his captivity. 
 
 Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman. 
 Hunt. This way, my lord; for this way lies the 
 
 game. 
 K. Edw. Nay, this way, man; see, where the 
 huntsmen stand. — 
 Now, brother of Gloster, lord Hastings, and the rest. 
 Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer'] 
 
 GLo. Brother, the time and case requireth haste; 
 Your hor^e stands ready at the park corner. 
 A. Edw, But wiuther shall we then ] 
 Ha^t. To Lynn, my lord, and ship from tlience 
 
 to Flandern:. 
 Gto. Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my 
 
 meaning. 
 K. Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness. 
 G/o. 13u* whorotbre stay we ! 'tis no time to talk. 
 K.Edw. Huntsman, wJiat say'st thou ! wilt thou 
 
 go along'] 
 Bant, Better do so, than tarry and be hang'd. 
 Glo. Come then, away; let's have no more ado. 
 K. Edw. Bishop, farewell ; shield thee from 
 Warwick's frown ; 
 And pray that I may repossess the crown. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VL— .'1 Room in Hie Tower. 
 Enter King Henry, Clarence, Warwick, Somer- 
 set, Young Richmond, Oxford. Montague, Lieu- 
 tenant of t fie Tower, and Attendants. 
 K. Hen. :Mapter lieutenant, now that God and 
 li-ionds 
 Have shaken Edward from the regal seat; 
 And turn'd my captive state to liberty, 
 My tear to hope, my sorrows unto joys; 
 At our enlargement what are thy due fees? 
 Lieut. Subjects may challenge nothing of their 
 sovereigns; 
 But, if an humble prayer may prevail, 
 1 tiien crave pardon of your majesty. 
 K. Ben. For what, lieutenant'! for well using 
 me'] 
 Nay, be thou sure, I'll well requite thy kindness, 
 For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure: 
 Ay, such a pleasure as ineaged birds 
 Conceive, when, aller many moody thoughts, 
 At last, by notes of household harmony, 
 They quite Ibrget their loss of liberty. — 
 But, Warwick, alter God. thou sct'st me free, 
 And chielly therefore I thank God and thee; 
 He was the author, thou the iiistrunicnt. 
 Therefore, that I may conquer ibrtune's spite. 
 By living low where fortune cannot hurt me ; 
 And that the people of this blessed land 
 May not be punished with my thwarting stars; 
 Warwick, although iny head still wear the crown, 
 I here resign my government to thee, 
 For thou art fortunate in ail thy deeds. 
 
 War. Your grace hath still been famed for vir- 
 tuous; 
 And now may seem as wise as virtuous, 
 By spying and avoiding fortune's malice. 
 For lew mea rightly temper with the stars;? 
 Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, 
 F'or choosing me, when Clarence is in place.^ 
 
 Cl(tr. No, Warwick, tJiou art worthy of the sway, 
 To whom the heavens, in thy nativity, 
 Adjudg'd an olive branch, and laurclcrowni. 
 As'likelj' to be blest in peace, and war; 
 And therefore I yield thee my free consent. 
 
 IVar. And I clioose Clarence only for protector, 
 A'. Ben. Warwick, and Clarence, give me both 
 your Iiands; 
 Now join your hands, and with your Iiands, your 
 
 hearts, 
 That no dissension hinder government ; 
 
 ^ Fl-\v men coufoim tbuir temper to their destiuy. 
 • Present. 
 
 I make you both protectors of this land; 
 Whde 1 myself will lead a private life. 
 And in devotion spend my latter days, 
 To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise. 
 
 War. W^hat answers Clarence to his sovereign's 
 
 will ] 
 Clar. That he consents, if Warwick yield con- 
 sent ; 
 For on thy ibrtnne I repose myself. 
 
 War. Why then, though luath, yet must I be 
 content; 
 We'll yoke together, like a double shadow 
 To Henry's body, and supply his place; 
 I mean in bearing weight of government. 
 While he enjoys the honor and his ease. 
 And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful, 
 Fortliwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor, 
 And all his lands and goods be confiscate. 
 Clar. What else] and that succession be deter 
 
 rnin'd. 
 War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his 
 
 part. 
 K. Hen. But, with the first of all your chief 
 a Hairs, 
 Let me entreat, (for I command no more,) 
 That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward, 
 Be sent tbr to return (i-om Fiance with sjieed: 
 For, till I see them here, by doubtful tear 
 My joy of liberty is half cclips'd. 
 
 Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with all 
 
 speed. 
 A'. Hen. iVIy lord of Somerset, what youth is 
 that, 
 Of whom you seem to have so tender care? 
 Hum. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Rich- 
 mond. 
 K. Ben. Come hither, England's hope: If secret 
 powers, [Eays tiifi liand on /its tiead.. 
 
 Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts. 
 This pretty lad^ will prove our country's bliss. 
 His looks are full of peaceful majesty; 
 His head by nature framed to wear a crown, 
 His hand to wield a sceptre ; and himself 
 Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. 
 Make much ofhim, my lords; for this is he, 
 Must lielp you more than you are hurt by me. 
 Enter a Messenger 
 War. What news, my friend ? 
 Mess. TJiat Edward is escaped from your brother, 
 And lied, as he hears since, to Burgundy. 
 
 War Unsavory news: but hownlade he escapd 
 Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of 
 Gloster, 
 And the lord Hastings, who attended him 
 In secret ambush on the forest side, 
 And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him ; 
 For hunting was his daily exercise. 
 
 War. My brother was too careless of his 
 charge.— 
 But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide 
 A salve for any sore that may betide. 
 
 [Exeunt King Henry, War., Clar., Lieut., 
 and Attendants. 
 Soni. My lord, 1 like not of this flight of Ed- 
 ward's : 
 For, doubtless, Burgundy will yield him help; 
 And we shall have more wars, belbre't be long. 
 As Henry's late presaging prophecy 
 Did glad my heart, with hope of tins young Rich- 
 mond; 
 So doth my heart misgive me, in tiiese confiicts 
 What may befall him, to iiis harm, and ours; 
 Tlierelbre, lord Oxford, to prevent tlio worst, 
 Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brilany, 
 Till storms be past of civil enmity. 
 
 Oxf. Ay; for, if Edward repossess the crown, 
 'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down. 
 
 iioin. It shall be so; he shall to IJritany. 
 Come tlierelbre, let's about it speedily. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VU,—Bef<jre York. 
 Enter King Edward, Gloster, Hastings, and 
 Forces. 
 K.Edw. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings, 
 and the rest; 
 Yet thus lar fortune maketh us amends, 
 And says — that once more I shall interchange 
 jMy waned state lor Henry's regal crown. 
 » AfterwHrds Henry VII. 
 
Scene VIIL 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 447 
 
 Well have we pass'd, and now repass'd the seas, 
 And brought desired help from Burgundy ; 
 What then remains, we being thus arriv'd 
 From Ravenspurg haven belbre the gates of York, 
 But that we enter, as into our dui^edom } 
 
 G/c. The gates made tiist ! — Brother, I li ke not this ; 
 For many nien. tilat stumble at the threshold, 
 Are ueirforctolil — that danger lurks within. 
 K. E'lin. Tush, man ! abodements must not now 
 altright us; 
 By fair or Ibijl means we must enter in, 
 For hither will our friends repair to us. 
 Hast. My liege, I'll knock once more to summon 
 them. 
 Enter on tlie IValls, the Mayor of York, a7id Ms 
 Bretliren. 
 May. My lords, we W'ere forewarned of your 
 coming. 
 And shut the gates for safety of ourselves; 
 For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. 
 
 K. Kiiw. But, master inayor, if Henry be your king. 
 Yet Kdward, at the least, is duke of York. 
 Mail. True, my good lord ; 1 know you for no less. 
 A". Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my 
 dukedom; 
 As being well content with that alone. 
 
 Old. But when the fox hath once got in his nose. 
 He'll soon tjnd means to make the body follow. 
 
 [ Aside. 
 Ilust. Why, master mayor, why stand you in a 
 doubt? 
 Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. 
 May. Ay, say you so! the gates sliall then he 
 open'd. [Kxeunt from abofc. 
 
 Glo. A wise stout captain, and persuaded soon ! 
 Jlast. Tiic good old man would lain that all were 
 well, _ 
 So 'tn-ere not 'long of him : but, being enter'd, 
 1 doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade 
 Both him and all his brothers unto reason. 
 Re-enter llie Mayor and two ,\iderinen, belmv. 
 K. Kdw. So, master major : these gates must 
 not be shut. 
 But in the night, or in the time of war. 
 What! fear not, man, but yield nie up the keys; 
 
 {Tal'es tiis Iteys. 
 For Edward will defend the town and tliee. 
 And all those Iriends that deign to follow me. . 
 Drum. Enter Moxigomeky and Forces, marctiing^ 
 
 Glo. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery, 
 Our trusty friend, unless 1 be deceiv'd. 
 K. Edw. Welcome, sir Joint ! But why come 
 
 you in arms! 
 Minil. To help king Edward in his time of storm. 
 As every lojal subject ought to do. 
 A'. Edw. Thanks, good Montgomery. But we 
 now forget 
 Our title to the rrown ; and only claim 
 Our dukedom, till God please to' send the rest. 
 
 Muiit. Then Hire you well, lor I will hence again : 
 I came to serve a king, and not a duke, — 
 Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 
 
 [.■) March' begun. 
 K. Edw. Nay, stay, sir John, a while; and we'll 
 debate, 
 By what safe means the crown may be recover'd. 
 Mont. What, talk you of debating'! In few words. 
 If you'll not here proclaim yourseifour king, 
 rii leave you to your Ibrtune; and be gone, 
 To keep them back that come to succor you : 
 Why should we light, if you pretend no title! 
 Glo. Why, brother, wherelbre stand you on nice 
 
 points! 
 K. Edw. When we grow stronger, then %ve'll 
 make our claim; 
 Till then, 'lis wisdom to conceal our meaning. 
 Hast. Away with scrupulous wit! now arms 
 
 must rule. 
 Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest unto 
 crowns. 
 Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand ; 
 The bruit' thereof will bring you many Iriends. 
 
 K. Edw. Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my right, 
 And Henry but usurps llie diadem. 
 Mont. Aj-, now my sovereign speakelh like him- 
 self; 
 And now will I be Edward's champion. 
 * Noise, report. 
 
 Hast. Sound, trumpet; Edward shall be liere 
 prociaim'd; — 
 Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. 
 
 [Gars him a paper. Ftvurish. 
 
 Sold. [Reads.] Edward the Fourth, by tlie grace 
 of God, king of England and France, and lord of 
 Ireland, ^-c. 
 
 Mont. And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's 
 right. 
 By this I challenge him to single light. 
 
 [Throws dnwn liis Cannllet. 
 
 All. Long live king Edward the Fourth ! 
 
 K. Edio. Thanks, brave Montgomery; — and 
 thanks unto you all. 
 If fortune .serve me, I'll requite this kindness. 
 Now, for this night, let's harbor here in York : 
 And, when the morning sun shall raise his car 
 Above the border of this horizon. 
 We'll forward towards Warwick, and his mates; 
 For, well I wot,2 that Henry is no soldier. — 
 Ah, froward Clarence I — how evil it beseems thee. 
 To Hatter Henry, and forsake thy brother! 
 Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and VV'arwIck. — 
 Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day; 
 And that, once gotten, doubt not of large pay. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 SCENE VIII,— London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Kixg Hen-rv, Warwick, Clarexce, Mon- 
 TAGCE, Exeter, and Oxford, 
 
 War. What counsel, lords ! Edward from Belgia, 
 With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, 
 Halh pass d in safely through the narrow seas. 
 And with his troops'doth march amain to London; 
 And many giddy people liock to him, 
 
 Oxf'. Let's levy men, and beat him back again. 
 
 Clar. A little lire is quickly trodden out; 
 Which, being sufTer'd, rivers cannot quench. 
 
 IP'or. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends; 
 Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; 
 Those will I muster up— and thou, son Clarence, 
 Shalt stir, in Sullolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, 
 The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:— 
 Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, 
 Northampton, and in Leicestershire^^ shall find 
 Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st: 
 And thou, brave Oxlbr<l, wondrous well belov'd, 
 In Oxfordshire shall muster up thy friends.— 
 My sovereign, with the loving citizen.s, — 
 Like to this island, girt in with the ocean. 
 Or modest Dina, circled with her nymphs,— 
 Shall rest in London, till we come to him.— 
 Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.— 
 Farewell, my sovereign. 
 
 K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's 
 true hope. 
 
 Clar. In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand. 
 
 A'. //«!. Well-minded Clarence, be thou Ibrtunate! 
 
 Mont. Com fort, in v lord ; — and so I take my leave. 
 
 iUf. And thus [kissing Hexrv's hand.] I seal 
 my truth, and bid adieu, 
 
 A'. He?!. Sweet Oxtbrd, and my loving Montague, 
 And all at once, once more a hajipy larewell. 
 
 ICur. Farewell, sweet lords ;lct's meet at Coventry. 
 [E.reunt War., Clar., Oxf., and Mont. 
 
 A. Hen. liere at the palace will I rest a while. 
 Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship i 
 Melhinlis, the power that Edward hath in lield. 
 Should not be able to encounter mine, 
 
 Exe. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest. 
 
 A. Hen. That's not my fear, my niecd^ hath go' 
 me liiine. 
 I have not slopp'd mine ears to their dem.ands. 
 Nor posted olltheir suits with slow delays ; 
 My iiity hath been balm to heal their wounds. 
 My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs. 
 My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears: 
 I have not been desirous of their wealth. 
 Nor much oppress'd thein with great subsidies. 
 Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd • 
 Then why should they loye Edward more than me ' 
 No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace: 
 And, when the lioii fawns upon the lamb. 
 The lamb will never cease to follow him. 
 
 [Shout within. A Lancaster! A Lancaster' 
 
 Exe. Hark, hark, mj- lord ! what shouts are these ? 
 
 Enter Kixg Edwarii, Gloster, and Soldiers. 
 ' A. Edw. Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear 
 him hence, 
 »Kuow. • Merit. 
 
448 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act V. Scene I. 
 
 And once again proclaim us kinj^ of England. — 
 You are the fount, that makes small brooks to flow ; 
 Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry, 
 And swell so much the higher by their ebb. — 
 Ileiice with him to the Tower; let him not speak. 
 [Exeunt some tvilh KiNO HEXiir. 
 And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course. 
 
 Where peremptory Warwick now remains: 
 The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay, 
 Cold-biting winter mars our hop'd-for liay. 
 
 Glo. Away betimes, belbre his forces join. 
 And take the great-grown traitor unawares; 
 I3ravc warriors, march amain towards Coventry. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Coventry. 
 Ejiter upon the Walls, Warwick, the Mayor of 
 Coventry, two Messengers, and others. 
 War. Where is the post that came from valiant 
 Oxford ] 
 How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? 
 
 1 Mtss. By this at Dunsmore, marching hither- 
 
 ward. 
 War. How far otl' is our brother Montague 1 
 Where is the post that came from Montague! 
 
 2 Mess. By this at Daintry, witli a puissant 
 
 troop. 
 
 Enter Sir John Somerville. 
 War. Say, SomerviUe, what says my loving son? 
 And. by the guess, how nigh is Clarence now? 
 
 Houi. A.t Southam i did leave him with his forces, 
 And do expect him here some two hours hence. 
 
 [Drum heard. 
 War, ThenCIarence is at hand,Thear his drum. 
 Som. It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies; 
 The drum your honor hears, marcheth from War- 
 wick. 
 War. Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for 
 
 friends. 
 Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly 
 know. 
 
 Drujns. Enter Kin'G Edward, Gloster, wnd 
 
 Forces, marchmg. 
 K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound 
 
 a parle. 
 Gh. See, how the surly Warwick mans the wall. 
 War. O, unhid spite! is sportful Edward come? 
 Where slept our scouts, or how are ttiey seduced, 
 That we could hear no news of his repair? 
 A". Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city 
 gates, 
 Speak gentle words, and humbly bend Ihylaiee? — 
 Call Edward — king, and at his hands beg mercy. 
 And he shall pardon thee these outrages. 
 
 War. Nay, ratlier wilt thou draw thy forces 
 hence, 
 Confess who set thee upand pluck'd thee down? — 
 Call Warwick — patron, and be penitent. 
 And thou shalt still remain the duke of York. 
 Gio. 1 thought, at least, he would have said — 
 the king ; 
 Or did he make the jest against his will ? 
 War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift ? 
 67f>. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give; 
 I'll do thee service for so good a gitl. 
 
 War. 'Twas I, that gave the kingdom to thy 
 
 brother. 
 A". Edw. Why, then, 'tis mine, if but by War- 
 wick's gilt. 
 JVar. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: 
 And, wcakHng, Warwick takes his gill again ; 
 And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. 
 A". Eilw. But Warwick's king is Edward's pri- 
 soner: 
 And gallant Warwick, do but answer this, — 
 What IS the body when the head is off? 
 
 GUi. Ahis, that Warwick had no more forecast, 
 But. whiles he thought to steal the single ten, 
 The king was slily hnger'd from the deck!' 
 Von letl poor Henry at tlie bishop's palace. 
 And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower. 
 K. Elw, 'Tis oven so; yet you are Warwick 
 
 slill. 
 Glu. Come. Warwick, take the time,kneel down, 
 kiicel down : 
 Nay, when ? strike now, or else the iron cooL^. 
 War. 1 iiad rather chop this hand otl" at a blow', 
 
 • A pack of cards was formerly termed a tltu'k of carjs. 
 
 And with the other fling it at thy face, 
 Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee. 
 K. Edw, Sail how thou canst, have wind an:?, 
 tide thy friend; 
 This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair. 
 Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new cut otf. 
 Write in the dust tiiis sentence with thy blood, — 
 Wind-changing W arw'ick now can change no more. 
 
 £«/er Oxford, with Drum and Colors. 
 War. cheerful colors ! see where Oxford 
 
 comes! 
 Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster . 
 
 [Oxford ayid his Forces enter the City, 
 Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too. 
 K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our backs: 
 Stand we in good array; for they, no doubt. 
 Will issue out again, and bid us battle: 
 If not, the city, being but of small defence. 
 We'll qUIcIUy rouse the traitors in the same. 
 War. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. 
 
 Enter Montague, ivith Drum and Colors. 
 Mont. Montague. Montague, for Lancaster ! 
 
 [JJe imd hvi Forces enter the City. 
 Glo. Thou ana thy brother both shall buy this 
 treason 
 Even with the dearest blood j'our bodies bear. 
 K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater 
 victory ; 
 My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest. 
 
 Enter Somerset, with Drum and Colors. 
 Som. Somerset. Somerset, for Lancaster! 
 
 [He and his Forces enter the Citi/. 
 Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, 
 Have sold their lives unto the house of York ; 
 And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. 
 
 Enter Clarente, with Drum and Colors. 
 War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps 
 along, 
 Of force enough to Iiid his brother battle ; 
 With whom an upright zeal to right i>revails. 
 More than the nature of a brother's love: — 
 Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt. if Warwick calls, 
 Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this 
 means } 
 
 [Taking the red' rose out of his Cap* 
 Look here, I throw my infamy at thee : 
 I will not ruinate my Vather's house. 
 Who gave his blood to lime the stones together. 
 And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, War- 
 wick, 
 That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt,^ unnatural, 
 To bend the tatal instruments of war 
 Against his brother, and liis lawful king ? 
 Perhaps, thou wilt ot)iect my holj' orith : 
 To keep that oath, were more impiety 
 Than Jephtha's, wlien he sacrificed his daughter 
 I am so sorry for my trespass made, 
 That to deserve well at my brother's hands, 
 I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe; 
 With resolution, whcresoe'er I meet thee, 
 (As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad.) 
 To plague thee for thy foul misleading me, 
 And so. proud-hearted Warwick. I dely thee, 
 And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. 
 Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends; 
 And. Richard, do not trown upon my limits, 
 For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. 
 K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten titnea 
 mdre belov'd. 
 Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our bate. 
 Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like. 
 
 i Insensible. 
 
 i 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 UO 
 
 IVar. paFisin;;'' traitor, periur'd. and unjust ! 
 K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt tliou leaje the 
 town, and ti^lit ? 
 Or shall wc beat tlie stones about thine ears ] 
 
 IVar. Alas, I am not coop'd iiere lor defence : 
 I will away towards Barnet presciitlj'. 
 And bid tliee batilc, Edward, if thou dar'st. 
 K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads 
 the way: — 
 Lords, to tile Held; saint George, and victory. 
 
 \_March. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— X Field of Bailie near Barnet. 
 A 'urwus and Excursions. Enter King Edwakd, 
 bringing in Warwick wounded. 
 K. Edw. So, lie thou there : die tiiou, and die 
 
 our fear ; 
 >"or Warwiciv was a bug" that fear'd? us all. — 
 Now, Jlonlague, sit fast ; I seek for llice,- 
 Tliat Warwick's bones may keep thine company. 
 
 [Exit. 
 War. Ah, who is nigh] come to me, friend, or 
 
 foe, 
 And tell ine, who is victor, York, or Warwick? 
 Why ask I that? my mangled body siiows, 
 My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart 
 
 shows, 
 Tliat I must yield my body to the earth, 
 And, by my liill, the conquest to my foe. 
 Thus yields the cedar to tlie axe's edge, 
 Whose arms gave slielter to the princely eagle. 
 Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; 
 Wlicise top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree. 
 And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. 
 These eyes that now are dimm'd with death's black 
 
 veil. 
 Have been as piercing a-s the mid-day sun. 
 To search the secret treasons of the world : 
 The wrinkles in my brows, now fiU'd %viih blood, 
 Were liken'd oil to kingly sepulchres; 
 Kor who liv'd king, but 1 could dig his grave 1 
 And wiio dur-it smile, wlieii Warwick bent his 
 
 brow ] 
 Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! 
 My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, 
 Even now liirsakc me: and, of all my lands, 
 Is nothing left me, but my body's length ! 
 Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and 
 
 dusti 
 And live we how we can, yet die we must. 
 
 Enter Oxfokd and Somerset. 
 Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick ! wert thou as wo 
 are. 
 We might recover all our loss again ! 
 The queen from France hath brought a puissant 
 
 power; 
 Even now we heard the news : Ah, couldst thou 
 fly! 
 rr«r.Why, then I would not lly. — Ah, Montague, 
 If tlum 111' ihere, sweet brolher.'take my liand," 
 And Willi thy lips keep in my soul a wiiile! 
 Thou lov'st me not; lor. brotfier. if thou didst. 
 Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, 
 That glues my lips, and will not let me speak. 
 Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. 
 Horn. Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his 
 last; 
 And to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick, 
 And said— Commend me to my valiant brother. 
 And more he would havesaid ; and more he spoke, 
 Which sounded like a cannon in a vault, 
 That might not be distiuKuish'd ; but at last, 
 [ well might hear deliver'd with a groan, — 
 O, farewell, Warwick ! 
 
 JVar. Sweet rest to his soul !— 
 
 Fly, lords, and save yourselves : for Warwick bids 
 You all farewell, to meet again in heaven. [Dies. 
 Uxf. Away,' away, to meet the queen's great 
 power. 
 
 [Exeunt, bearing off Warwick's Bodi/. 
 SCENE III.— .4/io//ier Part of tlie Field. 
 Flourish. Enter King Edward ()i triumpli; with 
 Clare.vci:, Cluster, and the rest. 
 K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward 
 course. 
 And we are graced with wreaths of victory. 
 .8 Eminent, egre^iojs. ■> Bu^boar. « Terrified. 
 
 20 
 
 But in the midst of this bright-shining day, 
 1 spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud. 
 That will encounter with our glorious sun, 
 Ere he attain his easeful western bed : 
 I mean, my lords,— those powers that the queen 
 Hath rais d in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast. 
 And, as we hear, march on to fisht with us. 
 
 Cur. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud, 
 And blow it to the source from whence it came : 
 Thy very beams will dry those vapors up; 
 For every cloud engenders not a storm. 
 
 Glo. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong. 
 And Somerset, with Oxford, lied' to her; 
 If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd. 
 Her faction will be full as strong as ours. 
 
 A'. Edw. We are advertis'd by 'bur loving friends, 
 That they do hold their course towardsTewksbury ; 
 We, haying now the best at Barnet field. 
 Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; 
 And, as we march, our slren^th will be augmented 
 In every county as we go along. — 
 Strike up the drum ; cry— Courage! and away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — Plains near Tewksbury. 
 
 March. Enter Quees Margaret, Prixce Edward, 
 Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers. 
 Q. Mar. fircat lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail 
 their loss. 
 
 But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. 
 
 What though the mast be now blown over-board, 
 
 The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, 
 
 And half our sailors swallow'd in the Hood 1 
 
 Yet lives our pilot still : Is't meet that he 
 
 Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad. 
 
 With tearful eyes add water to the sea, 
 
 .\nd give more strength to that which hath loo 
 much ; 
 
 Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock. 
 
 Which industry and courage might have sav'd ! 
 
 Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this ! 
 
 Say, Warwick vi-as our anchor; What of that ? 
 
 And Montague our top-mast ; What of him ? 
 
 Our slaughler'd friends the tackles; What of these? 
 
 Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? 
 
 And Somerset another goodly mast 1 
 
 The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings ' 
 
 And. though unskilful, why not Ned and 1 
 
 For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge ? 
 
 We will not from the helm, to sit and weep; 
 
 But keep our course, though the rough wind say 
 —no, 
 
 From shelves and rocks that threaten us with 
 wreck. 
 
 As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. 
 
 And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea ? 
 
 What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit? 
 
 And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock ? 
 
 All these the enemies to our poor bark. 
 
 Say, you can swim ; alas, 'tis but a while ; 
 
 Tread on the sand; why there you quickly sink: 
 
 Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you olf. 
 Or else you famish, that's a threefold death. 
 This speak I, lords, to let you understand. 
 In case some one of you would lly from us. 
 That there's no hoped-for mercy w'ith the brotlier?. 
 More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and 
 
 rocks. 
 Why, courage, then ! what cam.ot be avoided, 
 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear, 
 
 Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit 
 Should, if a coward heard her sjjeak these words, 
 Infuse his breast with magnanimity. 
 And make him, naked, liiil a man at arms. 
 I speak not this as doubling any here : 
 For, did I but suspect a fearfulnian. 
 He sliould have leave to go away betimes ; 
 Lest, in our need, he might infect another, 
 And make him of like spirit to himself. 
 If any such be here, as God forbid! 
 Let liim depart, before we need his help. 
 
 0.rt. Women and children of so high a courage! 
 And warriors liiint! why, 'twere perpetual shame. — 
 O, brave young printe! thy lamous grandliither 
 Doth live again in thee; Long mayst thou live. 
 To bear his image, and renew his'glories! 
 
 Som. And he, that will not light for such a hooe, 
 Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day, 
 If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at. 
 
450 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act \, 
 
 Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset; — sweet Ox- 
 ford, thanks. 
 Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing 
 else. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mrss. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, 
 lieady to fight; therefore be resolute. 
 
 Ou'f'. I thought no less: it is his policy, 
 To luiste thus fast, to find us unprovided. 
 Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness. 
 Q. Mar. This cheers my heart to see your for- 
 wardness. 
 0.rf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not 
 budge. 
 
 March. Enter at a dlsfance, King Edward, 
 Clarence, Glostek, and Forces. 
 K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the 
 thorny wood, 
 Which, by the heaven's assistance, and your 
 
 strength, 
 Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night, 
 I need not add more fuel to your lire, 
 Kor, well 1 wot,9 ye blaze to burn them out: 
 Give signal to the hght, and to it, lords. 
 Q. Mar. Lords, Imights, and gentlemen, what I 
 should say, 
 My tears gainsay: for every word I speak, 
 Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes, 
 Thcrelbre, no more but this: — Henry, your sove- 
 reign, 
 Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurped. 
 His realaa a slaughter-house, liis subjects slain, 
 His statutes cancelled, and his treasure spent; 
 And yonder is tlic wolf tJiat makes this spoil. 
 Vou hghl in justice: then, in God's name, lords, 
 Be vahant, and give signal to the tight. 
 
 [Exeunt both Armies. 
 
 SCENE v.— Another Part of the same. 
 Alarums: ExcursUnu ; and afterwards a Retreat. 
 Then enter Kinu Edward, Clarence, Gluster, 
 and Forces; with Queen Maugajiet, Oxford, 
 and Somerset, Prisoners, 
 
 K.Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils. 
 Away with OxJbrd to Hammes' castle' straight: 
 Kor Somerset, olfwith his guilty head. 
 Go, bear them Iience; I will not hear thom speak. 
 Oxf. Fornly part, I'll not trouble thee with words. 
 Soni. Nor I ; but stoop with patience to my fortune. 
 [Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded. 
 Q. Mar. Sopart we::'attly in this troublous world, 
 To meet with joy in s\vt_..'t Jerusalem. 
 A'. Edw. Is proclamation made, — that, who finds 
 Edward, 
 SJiail have a high reward, and he his life? 
 
 Glo. It is: and,lo, wliere youtliful Edward comes. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, ivith Prince Edward. 
 A'. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him 
 speak : 
 Wliat ! can so young a thorn begin to prick ? 
 Edwatd, what satislaclion canst thou make. 
 For bearing arms, lor stirring up my subjects, 
 And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to ] 
 
 P7'mce.Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York! 
 Suppose that I am now my lather's moutli ; 
 Jlesign thy cJiair, and, where I stand, kneel thou, 
 Whilst 1 propose the self-same words to tliec, 
 Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. 
 Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd ! 
 Glo. That you njight still have worn the petti- 
 coat. 
 And ne'er have stolen the breech from Lancaster. 
 
 prince. Let TI-^sop- fable in a winter's night; 
 His currish riddles sort not with this place. 
 iJl^K By heaven, brat. I'll plague you tor that word. 
 Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a i)lague to 
 
 men. 
 (Jlo. For God's sake take away this captive 
 
 scold. 
 Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back 
 
 rather. 
 K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your 
 
 tonguo. 
 Clar. Untutor'd lad, Ihou art too malapert. 
 Prince. 1 know my duty; you are all unduliful ; 
 Lascivious Edward, — and thou porjur'd George, — 
 8 Know. » A castk' iu Picaniy. 
 
 ^ Tbe prince calls Uichard, fur bis crookednttss, iEsop, 
 
 And thou mis-shapen Dick, — I tell ye ail, 
 I am your better, traitors as ye are; — 
 And tliou usurp'st my father's right and mine. 
 A'. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here 
 
 [Stabs him, 
 
 Glo. Sprawl'st thou 1 take that, to end thy agony. 
 
 [Glo, stabs him, 
 
 Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury. 
 
 [Clar. stabs him. 
 
 Q. Mar. O, kill me too ! 
 
 Glo. Marry, and shalL \ Offers to kill her. 
 
 K.EIw. Hold. Ricliard, hoId,ibrwe have done 
 
 too much. 
 Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with 
 
 words '{ 
 K.Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means for 
 
 her recovery. 
 Glo Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother; 
 I'll hence to London on a serious matter: 
 Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. 
 Clar. What? what? 
 
 Glo. The Tower, the Tower ! [Exit, 
 
 Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned I speak to thy mother, 
 boy ! 
 Canst thou not speak] — traitors! murderers! — 
 They that stabb'd Casar, shed no blood at all, 
 Did not oflend. nor were not worthy blame, 
 If this foul deed were by, to equal it. 
 He was a man: this, in respect, a child ; 
 And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. 
 What's worse than murderer, that I may name iti 
 No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak: — 
 And I will speak, that so my hi^art may burst. — 
 Butchers and villains, bloocly cannibals! 
 How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'dl 
 You have no children, butchers! if you had, 
 Tliethoughtofthein would have stirf'dupremorse: 
 But, if you ever chance to liave a child. 
 Look in his youth to have him so cut olT, 
 As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young 
 prince ! 
 K. Edw. Away with her; go bear her hence per- 
 force. 
 Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me 
 here ; 
 If ere sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee m^ death: 
 Wliat! wilt thou not?— then, Clarence, do it thou. 
 Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. 
 Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do 
 
 thou do it. 
 Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not 
 
 do it? 
 Q. Mar. Ay, but tliou nsest to forswear thyself; 
 'Twas sin before,^ but now 'tis charity. 
 What! wiltthou not? where is that devil's butcher, 
 Hard-favor'd Richard] Ricliard, where art thou ? 
 Thou art not here: Murder is ihy alms-deed; 
 petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. 
 K.Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her hence. 
 Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this 
 prince ! [Exit, led out forcibly. 
 
 K. Edw. Where's Richard gone ? 
 Clar. To London all in post ; and, as I guess. 
 To make a bloody supper in the Tower. 
 
 K.Edw. He's sudden, ifa thing comes in his head. 
 Now march we hence: discharge tlie common sort 
 With pay and thanks, and let's "away to London, 
 And sec our gentle queen how well she fares; 
 By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE YI.— London. .-1 Roo7n in the Tower. 
 King Henry is discovered sit ting wit ha Book in his 
 Jiand,theLieuicimni attending. E7iter Gloster, 
 Glo. Good day, my lord I What, at your book so 
 
 hard] 
 K.Uen. Ay. my good lord: My lord, I should 
 say ratlier ; 
 'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better; 
 Good Gloster. and good devil, were alike. 
 And both preposterous; therefore, not goo<l lord. 
 Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we mu.-t con* 
 fer. [Exit Lieutenant. 
 
 A'. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the 
 wolf: 
 So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, 
 And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. — 
 Wliat scene of death hath Roscius now to act ] 
 
 Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guiity mind; 
 TJie thief doth fear each bush an otticer. 
 
 ■ !ihe alludes to the desertioa of Clarenca 
 
Scene Vll. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 451 
 
 K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, 
 With trcmbUng wings misdoubteth every bush: 
 And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, 
 Have now the latal object in my eye. 
 Where my poor young was limed, was caught, and 
 kiird. 
 
 GUj. WJiy, what a peevish^ fool was that of Crete, 
 ■• That tiiugl'it his son the otiice of a Ibwl ! 
 And j'et, lor all his wings, the fool was drown'd. 
 
 K. Ue}u I, Dsedalus; my poor boy, Icarus ; 
 Thy lather, Minos, that denied our course ; 
 The sun, that sear'd tiie wings of my sweet boy. 
 Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea. 
 Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. 
 Ah, kill nie with thy wea]ion, not with words! 
 My breast can better brook thy dagger's point. 
 Than can my cars that tragic history. — 
 But wherefore dost thou come 1 is't for my life 1 
 
 Gto. Think'st thou, I am an executioner ! 
 
 A', lltii. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art ; 
 If murdering innocents be executing, 
 Why, then thou art au executioner. 
 
 ijlu. Thy soir I kiU'd, for his presumption. 
 
 A". Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when lirst thou 
 didst presume. 
 Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. 
 And thus I prophesy, — that many a thousand, 
 Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear; 
 And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's. 
 And maii\' an orphan's water-standing eye — 
 Men ll)r their sons', wives for tlieir husbands' fate. 
 And orphans for Iheir parents' timeless death, — 
 Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
 The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; 
 The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; 
 Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down 
 
 trees ; 
 The raven rook'd' her on the chimney's top. 
 And chattering pies in dismal discorus sung. 
 Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain. 
 And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ; 
 To wit,— an indigest deformed lumji. 
 Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
 Teeili hatist thou in th >■ head, when tjiou wast born. 
 To si;;nily, — thou cam'st to bite the world: 
 And, il the rest be true which 1 have heard, 
 Thou cam'st — 
 
 GVo. I'll hear no more; — Die, prophet, in thy 
 speech; [Slabs him. 
 
 For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. 
 
 AT.Wc;!. Ay, and for much more slaughterafter this. 
 OGod! forgive my sills, and pardon thee ! [Dif.s. 
 
 G/o. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
 Sink in the ground ? 1 thought it would have 
 
 mounted. 
 See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 
 
 0, may such purple tears be always shed 
 
 From those that wish the downfall of our house! — 
 If any spark of lUe be yet remaining, 
 Down, down to hell;— and say— I sent thee thither, 
 [Stabs hint again. 
 
 1. that have neither pity, love, nor fear. — 
 Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of; 
 As I have often heard my mother say, 
 
 I came into the world with my legs forward: 
 Had I n(»t reason, think je, to make haste. 
 And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right 1 
 The midwiie wonder'd ; and the women cried, 
 O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth! 
 And so I was; which plainly signified — 
 That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. 
 Then since the heavens have sliap'd my body so. 
 Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. 
 I have no brother, I am like no brother: 
 * Childish. t To i-ook si^^uifit;d to lodge on any thing. 
 
 And this word — love, which graybeards call divine, 
 
 Be resident in men like one another. 
 
 And not in me; I am m>sclf alone. — 
 
 Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light; 
 
 Butl will sorto a pitchy day for thee : 
 
 For I will buz abroad such prophecies. 
 
 That Kdward shall be tearful of his life : 
 
 And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. 
 
 King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone: 
 
 Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest; 
 
 Counting myself but bad, till I be best. — 
 
 I'll throw thy body in another room. 
 
 And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE VII.— .1 Hocim in the Palace. 
 King Edward i.5 discarered sitting on hh Throne; 
 
 QfEEN Elizabeth with the infant Prince. Cla- 
 
 KE.NCE, GluSter, Ha.stings, and others, near him. 
 
 K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal 
 throne, 
 Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies. 
 What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn. 
 Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride? 
 Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd 
 For hardy and undoubted champions: 
 Two Clillbrds, as the father and the son. 
 And two Northumberlands; two braver men 
 Ne'er spurr'd theircouisersat the trumpet's sound: 
 With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and 
 
 Montague, 
 That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion. 
 And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. 
 Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat, 
 And made our fl)Otstool of security. — 
 Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy: 
 Younjj Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself, 
 Have in our armors watch'd the winter's night; 
 Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat. 
 That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace : 
 And of our labors thou shalt reap the gain. 
 
 Gto. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid ; 
 For jet I am not look'd on in the world. 
 This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave ; 
 A lid heave it shall some weight, or break my back: — 
 Work thou the way, — and thou shalt execute. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 K. Eilw. Clarence and Glostcr, love my lovely 
 queen ; 
 And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. 
 
 Clar. Tlic duty, that I owe unto your majesty, 
 I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. 
 
 K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy bro- 
 ther, thanks. 
 
 Glo. And, that 1 love the tree from whence thou 
 sprang'st. 
 Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit: — 
 To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his] 
 
 master; ( , ,. . 
 
 And cried— all hail!— when as he meant f'^^^de. 
 — all harm ; J 
 
 K. Edw. NiJw am I seated as my soul delights. 
 Having my country's peace, and brothers' lo\es. 
 
 Clar. What will your grace have done with Mar- 
 garet! 
 Reignier, her father, to the king of France 
 Hath pawn'd the Sieils and Jerusalem, 
 And hither have they sent it lor her ransom. 
 
 K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence to 
 France. 
 And now what rests, but that we sjicnd the time 
 With stately triumjihs, mirthful comic shows. 
 Such as beht the iileasures of the court? — 
 Sound, drums and trumpets! — farewell, sour annoy! 
 For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [E.ceunt, 
 • St'lucfc 
 
LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 r. nj- } 
 llli.,) 
 
 Brothers to the 
 King. 
 
 KiXG Edward the ForRTn. 
 Edward, Prince of Wales, of- 5 
 
 tcrwards KingVAssariW, \ Sons to the King. 
 Richard. /Jiifre 6/ York, 
 Oeorge, Duke 0} Clarence. 
 Richard, Duke o/'Gloster, 
 
 tcrwurds King Ricliard 
 A young Son (>^ Clarence. 
 Henry, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King 
 
 Henry VII. 
 Cardinal Boukchier, Archbishop of Canteibuiy. 
 Thomas Rotherhaji, Archbuhup 0/ York. 
 John Morton, Bin/wp of Kly. 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 Duke of Norfolk. 
 Earl of Surrey, his Smi. 
 
 Eai'.l of Rivers, Brother to K. Edward's Queen. 
 BlAKQUis of Dorset, and Lord Grey, her Sons. 
 Earl of Oxford. 
 Lord Hastings. 
 Lord Stanley'. 
 Lord Lovel. 
 Sir Thumas Vaughan. 
 
 Sir Richard Ratcliff. 
 
 Sir William Catesby. 
 
 Sir James Tyhrel. 
 
 Sir James Blount. 
 
 Sir Walter HeRdert. 
 
 Sir RorehtBrakenrury, Lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 Christopher Urswick, a Priest. 
 
 Another Priest. 
 
 Lord Mui/or f/London. 
 
 Sheriff if Wiltshire. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen of King Edward IV. 
 Margaret, Widow of King Henry VI. 
 Duchess of York, Mother to King Edward IV., 
 
 Clarence, and Glosler. 
 Lady Anne, Widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, 
 
 Sim to King Henry \'l.; afterwards married to 
 
 the Duke of Glostei: 
 A young Daughter e/ Clarence. 
 
 Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a 
 Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Mes- 
 sengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, ^c. 
 
 SC£A'£.— England. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Street. 
 Enter Gloster. 
 Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent 
 Made slorious siinnner by this sun of York; 
 And all the clouds, that Ibw'r'd upon our house, 
 In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
 Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; 
 Our bruised arms hung up lor monuments ; 
 Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, 
 Our dreadl'ul marches to delightful measures.i 
 Gnm-visaged war iiath smooth'd his wrinkled 
 
 Ironf ; 
 And now.— instead of mounting barbed^ steeds. 
 To Iright the .souls of learful adversaries,— 
 He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
 To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
 lUit I,— that am not shaped for sportive tricks. 
 Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ; 
 I, that am rudely staiup'd, and want love's ma- 
 „ jpsiy, 
 
 To strut helore a wanton ambling nymph ; 
 1. that am curtail'd of this lair proportion, 
 ( Iciaknl ol li:iture by dissemliliug nature 
 pi'torui d, unlinish'd, sent before my lime 
 lul.> t bis brcjiihing wo.-kl, scarce half made up, 
 And that so lamely and uuliisiiiouable 
 
 Tliat dogs bark at me as I halt by them ;— 
 Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, 
 Have no delight to pass away the time ; 
 Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. 
 And descant on mine own deformity; 
 And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, 
 To entertain these fair well-spoken days,— 
 I am determined to prove a villain, 
 And hate the idle pleasures of these days,— 
 Plots have I laid, inductions^ dangerous. 
 By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, 
 To set my brother Clarence, and the king, 
 In deadly hate the one against the other; 
 And, if king Edward be as true and just 
 As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, 
 Tliis day should Clarence closely he mew'd up ; 
 About a prophecy, which says— that G 
 Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. 
 Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarenca 
 comes. 
 
 Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakexeurt. 
 Brother, good day: What means this armed guard 
 That waits upon your grace ] 
 
 Ctar. His majesty. 
 
 Tendering my person's safety, lialh appointed 
 This conduct to convey me to the Tower. 
 3 Prep.irjitions for mischief. 
 
Scene IL 
 
 KING RICIIAED III. 
 
 453 
 
 Gki. Upon what cause ! 
 
 '^lar. Because my name is— George. 
 
 (ilo. Alack, my lord, tliat tault is none of yours ; 
 
 He sliould, for tliat, commit your godiathers: 
 
 (), belike his majesty hath some intent, 
 
 That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower. 
 
 But what's the matter, Clarence! may 1 knowl 
 
 Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know: for 1 protest, 
 As yet I do not: But, as I can learn. 
 He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; 
 And from the cross-row jilucks the letter G, 
 And says— a wizard told him, that by G 
 His issue disinlicritcd should be; 
 And, for my name ol George begins with G, 
 II follows in his thought that I am he: 
 These, as 1 learn, and sucli like toys as these, 
 Have mov'd his highness to commit me now. 
 GUi. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by 
 women : — 
 'Tis not the king that sends jou to the Tower; 
 Wy lady (irey, his wile, Clarence, 'tis she, 
 That tempers him to this extremity. 
 Was it not she, and that good man of worship, 
 Antony WoodeviUe, her brother there. 
 That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower ; 
 From whence this present day he is deliver'd ! 
 We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe. 
 
 Clur. Byheaven. I tinnk, there is no man secure, 
 But the queen's kindred, and night-walknig heralds 
 That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore. 
 Heard you not what an humble su]ipliant 
 Lord Hastings was to her tor his delivery ! 
 GU}. Humbly coiiijilaining to her deity, 
 Clot my lord chainberl^iiii his liberty. 
 1 11 tell you what,— 1 think it is our way, 
 H'we will keep in favor with the king. 
 To be her men, and wear her livery : 
 The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,^ 
 Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, 
 Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. 
 
 Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon mc; 
 His majesty hath straitly given in charge. 
 That no man shall lia\e jirivate conference, 
 Of what degree soever, with his brother. 
 Glo. E\ en so .' an please your worship, Braken- 
 bury. 
 You may partake of any thing we say: 
 We speak no treason, n'lan ;— We say. the king 
 Is wise, and virtuous; and his noble queen 
 Well struck in years ; fair, and not jealous : 
 We say, that Shore's wile hath a pretty foot, 
 A cherry lip, 
 
 A bonny eye. a passing pleasing tongue ; 
 And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: 
 How say you, sir ! can you deny all this 1 
 Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught 
 
 to do. 
 do. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I teU 
 thee, f(;llow. 
 He that doth naught with her, excepting one, 
 Were best to do it secretly, alone. 
 Brak. What one, my lord ! 
 
 Ghi. Her hushand, knave .-—Wouldst thou be- 
 tray me! 
 Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, 
 withal. 
 Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 
 i'lur. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and 
 
 will obey. 
 Glo. We are tlic queen's abjects, and must obey. 
 Brother, farewell : I will unto the king; 
 .\nd whatsoever you will employ me in, — 
 VVere'it to call king Edward's widow — sister, — 
 1 will perlbrm it to enlVanchise you. 
 Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, 
 ToucI !s me deeper than 50U can imagine. 
 VUn I know it pleaseth neither of us well. 
 Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be 
 long; 
 I will deliver you, or else lie for you : 
 Mean time, have patience. 
 Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. 
 
 [Exnurtt Clarence, Beaicem!ury, and Guard. 
 Clu. Go, tread the path that thou shall ne'er 
 return, 
 Simple, plain Clarence !— I do love thee so. 
 That 1 will shortly send thy soul to heaven, 
 if heaven will take the present at our haiids. 
 But who comes here ! the nevv-deliver'd Hastings ' 
 * The quoLU and Shore 
 
 Enter Hasti.n'gs. 
 JIast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord ! 
 Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain ! 
 Well are you welcome to this open air. 
 How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? 
 Host. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners 
 must: 
 But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks. 
 That were the cause of my imprisonment. 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence 
 too; 
 For they, that were your enemies, are his. 
 And have prcvail'd as much on him as you. 
 
 „r^'!'''; ^^"^'^ P''>' "'=" "'<= eagle should be mcw'd, 
 While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. 
 
 Ghi. What news abroad ? 
 
 Ha.it. No news so bad abroad, as this al home ;— 
 The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy 
 And his physicians fear him mightily. 
 
 Glo. Now, by saint Paul, this iicws is bad indeed. 
 O, he hath kept an evil diet long. 
 And over-much consumed his royal person; 
 Tis very grievous to be thought upon. 
 What, is he in his bed ? 
 
 Jlaat. He is. 
 
 Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. 
 
 [£.«'/ HASTtNGS. 
 
 He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die, 
 
 Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. 
 
 I II in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 
 
 Willi lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; 
 
 And, if I fail not in my deep intent, 
 
 Clarence hath not another day to live: 
 
 Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy, 
 
 .\nd leave the world lor me to bustle in! 
 
 For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter: 
 
 What though I kill'd her husband, and her father? 
 
 The readiest way to make the wench amends. 
 
 Is— to become her husband, and her liither : 
 
 The which will I ; not all so much 1l- love, 
 
 As for anolher secret close intent. 
 
 By marrying her, which 1 must reach unto. 
 
 But yet I run before my horse to market- 
 
 Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives, and 
 
 reigns ; 
 When they are gone, then must I count my gains. 
 
 [Exit. 
 SCENE \\.— Another Street. 
 Enter t/ie Corpse af King Henry Me Sixth, borne 
 
 in an open Coffin; (icntlemen bearing Ilalberdi; 
 
 to guard it ; and Lady Anne as Mourner. 
 
 Anne. Set down, set down your honorable load,- 
 It honor may be shrouded in a hearse, — 
 Whilst I a while obsequiously' lament 
 The untimely tail of virtuous Lancaster.— 
 Poor key-cold figure of a holy Iving! 
 Pale ashes of the house of La'ncasfcr ! 
 Thou bloodless remnant of that royal Jood \ 
 Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, 
 To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
 Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, 
 Stabb d by the selt-same hand that made these 
 
 wounds ! 
 Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, 
 I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes: — 
 O, cursed be the hand that iiia'de these holes! 
 Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it ! 
 Cursed the blood, that Id this blood from hence! 
 More direful hap betide that hated wretch. 
 That makes us wretched by the death of thee. 
 Than I can wish to adders." spiders, toads, 
 Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives' 
 If ever he have child, ahortive'be it. 
 Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 
 Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
 May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; 
 .\nd that be heir to his unhappiness ! 
 If ever he have wife, let her be made 
 More miserable by the death of him. 
 Than I am made by my young lord, and thee !— 
 Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy loadj 
 Taken from Paul's to be interred there; 
 And still, as you are vveary of Ihe weight. 
 Rest \ on, wliiles I lament king Henry's corse. 
 [The Bearers take up tlie Corpse, and advance. 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Stay you that bear the corse, and set it down 
 • ^^"ith becoming reve.-ence for the dead. 
 
454 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 Act. I. 
 
 yl/?/?c.What black magician conjures up thisfiend. 
 To stop devoted charitable deeds! 
 
 Glo.\' illains, set down the corse ; or, by saint Paul, 
 I'll make a corse olJiiiu that disobeys. 
 
 1 (Jent. My lord, stand back, and let the cotlin pass. 
 Glo. Unmanner'd dog: stand thou when I com- 
 mand : 
 Adv:inco thy halberd higher than my breast, 
 Or, by saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, 
 And spurn upon tiiee, beggar, lor thy boldness. 
 
 [The Bearers set down the Coffin. 
 Amie. What, do you tremblcl are you all alVuttl! 
 Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, 
 And moital eyes cannot endure tlic devil.— 
 Avnunt. thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
 Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, 
 }lis soul thou caust not have; therefore, begone. 
 GU>. Sweet saint, fur charity, be not so curst. 
 Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and 
 (rouble us not; 
 For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 
 Fill'd it with cursing cries, aud deep exclaims. 
 If thou delight to view Ihy heinous deeds, 
 Behold this pattern ollhy butcheries: — 
 0, gentlemen, sec, sec ! dead Henry's wounds 
 Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!— 
 Blusli, blush, tliou lump of foul deformity; 
 For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood 
 From cold and empty veins, wJiere no blood dwells ; 
 Tliy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 
 
 provokes this deluge most unnatural. 
 
 O God, which tliis blood mad'st, revenge his death ! 
 O earth, which this blood drink'st, revengf his death! 
 Kither, Heaven, with lightning strike the murderer 
 
 dead. 
 Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; 
 As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, 
 Wliioh his hell-govern'd arm liath butchered! 
 
 Gh. Lady, you know no rules of ciiarity. 
 Which renders good for bad. blessings for curses. 
 Anfte. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor 
 man ; 
 No beast so fierce, but kTiows some touch of pity. 
 Glit. lint I know none, and therefore am no beast. 
 Anne. wonderful, when devils tell the truth! 
 Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry. — 
 Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, 
 Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, 
 By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 
 
 Anne. Vouchsate, dilFus'd infection of a man. 
 For these known evils, but to give me leave, 
 By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 
 Glv. Fairer than tongue can name tlice, let me 
 have 
 Some patient leisure to excuse myself 
 Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou 
 canst make 
 No excuse current but to hang thyself. 
 
 G/o. By such despair, I should accuse myself. 
 Anne. And, by despairing, shall thou stand ex- 
 cus'd; 
 For doing worthy vengeance on thyself. 
 That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. 
 Gin. Say, that I slew tlirm not] 
 Anne, Why, then, they are not dead : 
 
 But dead they are. and, devilisli slave, by thee. 
 Gltf. I did not kill your husband. 
 Anne. Why, then, he is alive. 
 
 Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. 
 Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest: queen 
 Margaret saw 
 Tliy murd'rous liilchion smoking in his blood ; 
 The which thou once didst bend against her breast, 
 But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 
 
 (I'll. 1 was provoked by her sland'rous ton.2;ue, 
 That lai J their guilt upon my guiltless shouldcr.s. 
 Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, 
 That never dreamt on aught but butcheries : 
 I)idst thou not kill this king! 
 OU). I grant ye. 
 
 Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog 1 then God 
 < grant me too, 
 
 Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed ! 
 n, lie was gentle, nnld. and virtuous. 
 
 Glit.Thc titter Ibr the K ingof lieaven that hath him. 
 Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never 
 
 come. 
 Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him 
 liiither; 
 ?or he was titter for that place, than earth. 
 
 Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 
 Glo. Yes. one place else, if you will hear me 
 
 name it. 
 Anne. Some dungeon. 
 Glo. Your bed-chamber. 
 
 ^//??f. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! 
 Glo. So wilt it, madam, till I lie with ytiu. 
 An?ie. I hope so. 
 
 Glo. 1 know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, — 
 
 To leave this keen encounter of our wits, 
 And fall somewhat into a slower method, — 
 Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
 Of these Plantagenets. Henry and Edward, 
 As blameful as the executioner] 
 Anyte. Thou wast the cause and most accuriM 
 
 elli?ct. 
 Gin. Your beauty was the cause of that eflect; 
 Your beauty which did haunt me in my sleep, 
 To undertake tiie dnith of all the world, 
 So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. 
 
 Antie. If I thought that, I tell (hee, homicide, 
 These nails should rend that beauty from my 
 checks. 
 Glo. These eyes could not endure that bcauty'3 
 wreck ; 
 You should not blemish it if I stood by: 
 As all the world is cheered by the sun, 
 So I by that; it is my day, my life. 
 Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death 
 
 thy life! 
 Glo. CuT^e not thyself, fair creature ; thou art both. 
 Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee. 
 Gh. It is a quarrel most unnatural, 
 To be revenged on him that loveth thee. 
 
 Arifie. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, 
 To be revenged on him that kill'd my husband. 
 
 67/). He tlint bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, 
 Did it to help thee to a better husband. 
 Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the 
 
 earth. 
 Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could. 
 Anne. Name him. 
 Glo. Plantagenet. 
 
 Anne. Why, that was he. 
 
 Glo. The self-same name,butone otbettcr nature. 
 Anne. Where is he 1 
 Glo. Here : [She spits at him.] Why 
 
 dost thou spit at me 1 
 Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy 
 
 sake ! 
 Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. 
 Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
 Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 
 Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have inlected mine. 
 Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee 
 
 dead ! 
 Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once; 
 For now they kill me with a living death. 
 Those eyes of thine from mine iialh drawn salt 
 
 tears. 
 Shamed their aspgcts with store of cliildish drops: 
 These eyes, which never shed remorseful'^ tear,— 
 Nor when my father York and Edward wept, 
 To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
 When black-faced Cliilbrd shook his sword at him; 
 Nor when thy warlike lather, like a child, 
 Told the sad story of my father's death ; 
 And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, 
 That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks. 
 Like trees bedash'd with rain: in tliat sad time, 
 My manly e\es did scorn an humble tear: 
 And what tiu'sc sorrows could not hence exhale. 
 Thy beauty halJi, aud made them bhnd witlnVeep- 
 
 ing. 
 I never sued to friend, nor enemy; 
 My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word , 
 But now thy beauty is propos'd my ti?e. 
 My proud lieart sues, and prompts my tongue to 
 speak. [She looks seornjully at him. 
 
 Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made 
 For kissing, lady, not lor such contempt. 
 If thy revengeful heart cannot Ibrgive, 
 Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; 
 Which if thou please to hide ni this true breast, 
 And let the soul forth that adorelh thee, 
 I lay it naked to tlu^ deadly stroke. 
 And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 
 
 ' te laim his Breast open;' she offers at it 
 with Aw Sworil. 
 •* Pitying. 
 
 [He 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 455 
 
 Nay. do not pause ; for I did kill kins Henry ;— 
 But 'ivvas thy beauty that provok'd me. 
 Nay, now dospatcJi ; 'twas I that stabb'd youn?; Ed- 
 ward ;— [She again offers at his Breasts 
 But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. 
 
 [SVte lets fall the Sword. 
 Take up the sword a^nin, or take up me. 
 
 Anne. Arise, dissembler ; though I wish thy death. 
 I will not be thy executioner. 
 
 Gill. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. 
 
 Anne. I have already. 
 
 Olo. That was in thy rage; 
 
 Speak it again, and. oven with the word. 
 This hand, which for thy love, did kill thy love, 
 Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love ; 
 To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. 
 
 Anne. I would. I knew thy heart. 
 
 Gla. 'Tis tifiur'd in my tongue. 
 
 Anne. I fear ine, both are false. 
 
 Glo. Then man was never true. 
 
 Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. 
 
 Glti. Say then, my peace is made. 
 
 Anne. That shalTyou know hereafter. 
 
 Olo. But shall 1 live in hope ! 
 
 Anne. All men, I hope, live so. 
 
 O/n. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 
 
 Anne. To take, is not to give. 
 
 [She puts on the Ring. 
 
 Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy 
 linger, 
 Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ; 
 Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. 
 And if thy poor devoted servant may 
 But beg one Ia\or at thy gracious hand, 
 Tliou dost contirm his happiness for ever. 
 
 Anne. Wiiat is it! 
 
 Glv. That it nuiy please you leave these sad de- 
 signs 
 To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, 
 And presently repair to Crosby-place:'' 
 Where — aAcr I have solemnly interr'd, 
 At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king, 
 And wet his grave with my repentant tears, — 
 I will with all expedient duty see you. 
 For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, 
 Grant me this boon. 
 
 Anne. With all my heart; and much it jo3-s me 
 too. 
 To see you arc become so penitent. — 
 Tressei, and Berkley, go along with me 
 
 Olo. Bid me farewell. 
 
 Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve; 
 
 But, since you teach me how to Hatter you, 
 Imagine I have said farewell already. 
 
 [Exeunt Lady Anne, Trksskl, and Berkley. 
 
 Glo. Take up the cor.se, sirs. 
 
 Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? 
 
 Glo. No, to White Fnars ; there attend my com- 
 ing. [Exeunt the resty ivith the Corpse. 
 Was ever woman in this humor woo'd ! 
 \yas ever woman ni this humor won ? 
 I'll have her, — but I will not keep her long. 
 What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father, 
 To take her in her heart's extremest hate; 
 With curses in her moutli, tears in her eyes, 
 The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; 
 With God, her conscience, and these bars against 
 
 me. 
 And I no friends to back my suit withal. 
 But the plain devil and dissembling looks. 
 And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! 
 Ila! 
 
 }Iath she forgot already that brave prince, 
 Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since 
 Sta.bb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ! 
 A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, — 
 Framed in the prodigality of nature. 
 Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, — 
 The .spacious world cannot again attbrd : 
 And will she yet abase her eyes on me. 
 That ct-oj^p'd the golden prime of this sweet 
 
 prince. 
 And made her widow to a woful bed? 
 On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety 1 
 On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus ] 
 ^Iy dukedom to a beggarly dernicr.s 
 [ do mistake my person all this while : 
 Upon my hie, she finds, although I cannot, 
 
 In Bishopgate-street. 
 
 e A small French coin. 
 
 Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
 
 I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; 
 
 And entertain a score or two of tailors. 
 
 To study fashions to adorn my body; 
 
 Since I am crept in favor with myself, 
 
 I will maintain it with some little cost. 
 
 But, tirst, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave; 
 
 Aucl then return lamenting to my love. — 
 
 Shuie out. fair sun, till I have bought a glass. 
 
 That 1 may see my shadow as I pass [ExU 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, a?id Lord 
 Grey. 
 Riv. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt 
 his majesty 
 Will soon recover his accustom'd health. 
 
 Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him 
 
 worse : 
 
 Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort. 
 
 And cheer his grace with quick and merry words, 
 
 Q. Kliz. If lie were dead, what would betide of 
 
 me? 
 Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord. 
 Q.liliz The lossofsuch alord includes all harms. 
 Grey. The heavens have bletjs'd you with a 
 goodly son. 
 To be your comforter, when he is ^one. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority 
 Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster, 
 A man tliat loves not me, nor none o\' you. 
 Riv. Is It concluded, he siiall be protector? 
 Q. Kliz. It is determiu'd, not concluded yet: 
 But so it must be, if the king miscarry. 
 
 Enter Buckingham and Stanley. 
 Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and 
 
 Stanley. 
 Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace !' 
 iS/a/7. God make your majesty joyful as you 
 
 ha\'e been ! 
 Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my lord 
 of Stanley, 
 To your good prayer will scarcely say — amen. 
 Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife, 
 And loves not me, be you. good lord, assur'd, 
 I hate not you lor her proud arrogance. 
 
 Slan. I do beseech you, cither not believe 
 The envious slanders of Jier lalse accusers; 
 Or, if she be accus'd on true report. 
 Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds 
 From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. 
 Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of 
 
 Stanley- ! 
 Stan. But now the duke of Buckingiiam, and I, 
 Are come from visiting his majesty. 
 Q. Eliz. What likeUhood of his amendment, 
 
 lords 1 
 Buck. Madam, good hope ; his grace speaks 
 
 cheerfully. 
 Q. Eliz. God grant him health ! Did you confer 
 
 with him ? 
 Buck. Ay, madam, he desires to make atonement 
 Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, 
 And between them and my lord chamberlain ; 
 And sent to warn them to his royal presence. 
 Q. Eliz. Would ail were well !— But that will 
 never be; — 
 I fear, our happiness is at the height. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Hastings, and Dorset. 
 Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure 
 it.— 
 Who are they, that complain unto the king, 
 That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not ? 
 By holy Paul, they love his grace but ligiitly. 
 That till his ears with such dissentious rumors. 
 Because I cannot liatter, and speak fair. 
 Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog. 
 Duck with French nods, and apish courtesy, 
 I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
 Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm, 
 But thus his simple trutJi must be abus'd 
 By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks 19 
 
 Grey. To whom, in all this presence speaks your 
 
 grace ] 
 Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. 
 When have 1 injur'd thee \ when done thee wrong ? 
 • Low fellows. 
 
456 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Or thee 1 — or thee 1 — or any of your faction ! 
 A play;ue upon you all ! His royal giace, — 
 Whom God preserve better than you would wish! — 
 Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, 
 Uutyou must trouble him with lewd' complaints. 
 
 Q. Kliz. Brother of Glostcr, you mi:>ta-ke the 
 matter: 
 The king, of his own royal disposition, 
 And not provok'd by any suitor else ; 
 Aiming, bclikc. at your interior hatred, 
 Tliat in your outward action shows itself. 
 Against my children, brothers, and myself, 
 Makes hini to send ; that thereby lie may gather 
 Tlie ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. 
 
 Gto. I cannot tell; — The world its grown so bad, 
 That wrens may prey w^here eagles dare not perch. 
 Since every Jack became a gentleman. 
 There's many a gentle person made a Jack. 
 
 Q. ELiz. Come, come, we know your meaning, 
 brother (ilostcr: 
 You envy my advajicemcnt, and my friends'; 
 God grant, we never may have need of you \ 
 
 (jIu. Meantime, God grants that we iiave heed 
 of you ! 
 Our brother is imprisoned by your means, 
 Myself disgraced, and the nobility 
 Held in contempt; while great promotions 
 Are daily given, to ennoble those 
 Tliat scarce, some two days since, were worth a 
 noble.- 
 
 Q. Eliz. By him tliat rais'd me to this careful 
 height 
 From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, 
 I never did incense his majesty 
 Agauist the duke of Clarence, but have been 
 An earnest advocate to pitad lor him. 
 MJ- loid, you do me shameful injury, 
 Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 
 
 Glo. Vou may deny that you were not the cause 
 Of my lord Hastings late imprisonment. 
 
 Miv. She may, my lord ; tor 
 
 Glo. She may, lord Rivers ! — why, who k7iows 
 not so { 
 Siie may do more, sir, than denying that : 
 Siie may help you to many fair preferments; 
 And then deny her aiding hand therein. 
 And lay those honors on your high desert. 
 WJiat may she not I Slie may, — ay, marry may 
 she, — 
 
 Rw. What, murry, may she"! 
 
 Glo. What, marry, may she] marry with a Idng, 
 A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: 
 1 wis,^ your grandam had a worser match. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My lord ol (iloster, I have too long borne 
 Your blunt upbraiduigs, and your bitter scolls: 
 By heaven, I will ac(}uaint his majesty, 
 Of those gross taunts I oltcn have endur'd. 
 I had ratlier be a country servant-maid, 
 Tlian a great queen with tin's condition^ 
 To be so baited, scorn'd, and storm 'd at: 
 Small joy Jiavc I in being England's queen. 
 
 Enter QuEKX Margauet, behind. 
 Q, Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I be- 
 seech then ! 
 Thy honor, state, and seat, is due to rac. 
 
 Glo. What? threat you me with telling of the 
 king] 
 Tell him, and spare not : look, what I have said 
 1 will avouch, in i)re!5cncc of the kmg: 
 I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 
 *Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot. 
 
 Q. Miir. Out, devil! I remember tliem too well: 
 Thou luU'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, 
 And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. 
 
 Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband 
 king, 
 I was a pack-horse in his great affairs ; 
 A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, 
 A liberal rewarder of his friends; 
 To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own. 
 Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, or 
 
 thine. 
 Glo. In alt which time, you, and your husband 
 (key, 
 Were fuctious for the house of Lancaster; — 
 And. JUvers,so were you: — Was not your husband 
 In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain 1 
 Let me put in your minds, if you forget, 
 * Rudo, iijuoraut. a A coiu nilej at Gs. Sd. a Think. 
 
 What you have been ere now, and what you are ; 
 Withnl, what I have been, and wliat I am. 
 Q. Mar. A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art. 
 Glo. Poor Clarence did Jbrsake liis father War- 
 wick, 
 Ay, and Ibrswore himself, — Which Jesu pardon ! — 
 
 Q. Mar. Which God revenge ! 
 
 Glo. To light on Edward's j-arty, for the crown ; 
 And, tor his meed, poor lord, he is mcw'd up : 
 1 would to God, my heart were tlint like Edward's, 
 Or Edward's solt and pitii'ul, like mine ; 
 I am too childish-foolish lor this world. 
 
 Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave 
 this world. 
 Thou cacodaemon !^ there thy kingdom is. 
 
 Rii\ My lord of Glostcr, in tiiose busy days, 
 Which here you urge to prove us enemies. 
 We Ibllow'd then our lord, our lawful king; 
 So should we you, if you should be our king. 
 
 Glo. If I should be 1 — I had rather be a pedlar: 
 Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! 
 
 Q. Eliz. As little joy. my loicl, as you suppose 
 You should enjoy, were you this country's king; 
 As little joy you may suppose in me, 
 That I enjoy, bein^ the queen thereof. 
 
 Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; 
 For I am she, and altogether joyless. 
 I can no longer hold me patient. — [^Advancins. 
 Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that lall out 
 In sharing that which you have pill'd^ from me: 
 Which of you trembles not, that looks on me : 
 If not, that 1, being queen, you bow like subjects; 
 Yet tliat, bj- you depos'd, you quake like rebels] — 
 Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away ! 
 
 Glo. Foul wrinliled witch, what mak'st thou in 
 my sight] 
 
 Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; 
 Tiiat will I make, belorc 1 let thee go. 
 
 G7y. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ] 
 
 Q. Mar. I was; but I do lind more pain in ba- 
 nishment. 
 Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
 A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me, — 
 And thou a kingdom; — all of you allegiance: 
 This sorrow that I have, by right is yours; 
 And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. 
 
 Glu. The curse my noble lather laid on thee, 
 When thou didst crown hiswarlikebrowswith paper, 
 And with thy scorns drew'st rivers I'rom his eyes; 
 And then to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, 
 Stcep'd in the laultless blood of pretty Rutland; — 
 His curses, then from bitterness of soul 
 Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; 
 And (Jod, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. 
 
 Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent. 
 
 Jhi.sf. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, 
 And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of. 
 
 Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was re- 
 ported. 
 
 Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for it. 
 
 Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to 
 see it. 
 
 Q. Mar. What! were you snarling all, before I 
 came. 
 Ready to catch each other by the throat. 
 And turn you all your hatred now on me ] 
 Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven, 
 Tliat Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, 
 Their kingdom's loss, my vvotui banishment. 
 Could all biit answer for that peevish brat ] 
 Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven? — 
 Why, then give way, dull cloudy, to my quick 
 
 curses ! — 
 Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, 
 As ours by murder, to make him a king ! 
 Edward, thy son, that now is prince ofWales, 
 For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales, 
 Die in his youth, by like unlimely violence! 
 Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, 
 Outlive thy glory like my wretched self! 
 Long mayst thou live, to wail thy children's loss; 
 And see another, as I see thee now, 
 Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stalTd in mine! 
 Long die thy happy days before thy deatli; 
 And after many lei'igthen'd hours of grief. 
 Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! — 
 Rivers, — and Dorset, — you were slanders by, — 
 And so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when m'y son 
 Was siabb'd with bloody daggers; God, I pray him, 
 « Corrupt devil. » Pillaged. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING RICHARD HI. 
 
 457 
 
 That iioiir of you may live your natural asre, 
 But by 5.01)1*' uniook'd accident cut olt! 
 
 Glo. fifive done tiiy cliarin, tliuu lialeiul witlier'd 
 
 Q. Ma-. And leave out thee! stay, dog, for tliou 
 jhalt hear me. 
 If I eavoM have any grievous plague in store, 
 KNceediiig those that I ran wish upon thee, 
 O, let tiieui keep it, tdl thy sins be ripe. 
 And then hurl down their indignation 
 On thee, tlie troubler of the poor world's peace! 
 The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
 Thy fiiends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, 
 A.nd take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! 
 No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine. 
 Unless It be while some tormenting dream 
 Atlrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! 
 Thou clvish-mark'c!, abortive, rooting hog ! 
 Thou that w^ast seal'd in thy nativity 
 The slave of nature, and the son of liell ! 
 Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
 Thuu loathed issue of thy fatlier's loins! 
 Thou rag ot honor I thou detested 
 
 CIo. Margaret! 
 
 Q. Mar. Richard ! 
 
 Glo. Ha 1. 
 
 Q. Mar. I call thee not. 
 
 Ulo. 1 cry thee mercy then ; for I did think, 
 That thou liadst call'd me all these bitter names. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply: 
 O, let nie make the period to my ciirse. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis done by mej and ends in — Margaret. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse 
 against jourself 
 
 Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my 
 Ibrtune ! 
 Why strew'sl thou sugar on that bottled spider,6 
 Whose deadly web ensnarelh thee about? 
 Fool, fool ! thou whet'st a laiife to kill thyself. 
 The day will come, that thou shall wish for me 
 To help'lhee curse this pois'iioushunch-back'd load. 
 
 W«.v/. False-boding woman, end thy l"rantic curse ; 
 Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. 
 
 Q. Mar. Foul sliame upon you ! you have all 
 niov'd mine. 
 
 Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught 
 your duty. 
 
 Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me 
 duty. 
 Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: 
 0, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. 
 
 Dors. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic. 
 
 Q.Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert: 
 Your Jiie-new stamp of honor is scarce current:" 
 (), that your young nobility could judge. 
 What 'twere to lose it and be miserable ! 
 They that stand high, have many blasts to shake 
 
 them; 
 And, if tlioy tall, they dash themselves to piece.?. 
 
 (Jlu. Ciood counsel, marry; — learn it, learn it, 
 marquis. 
 
 Dors. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. 
 
 Gill. Ay, and much more: But I was born so high, 
 Our aiery" buildelh in the cedar's top. 
 And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 
 
 Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade; — alas! 
 alas !— 
 Witness my .son, now in the shade of death ; 
 Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath 
 Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
 Vour aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest: — 
 O God,, that seest it, do not sutler it ; 
 As it was won with blood, lost be it so ! 
 
 Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity. 
 
 y. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me ; 
 Uncharitably with me have you dealt. 
 And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. 
 Mj- charity is outrage; life my shame,— 
 And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage ! 
 
 Buck. Have done, have done. 
 
 Q. Mar. princely Buckingham. I kiss thy hand. 
 In sign of league and amity with thee: 
 Now liiir befall thee, and thy noble house! 
 Thy sarnients are not spotted with our blood. 
 Nor thou within the compass of my cur.se. 
 
 Buck. Nor no one here; lor curses never pass 
 The lips of those that breathe them in the air. 
 
 Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend tlie sliy, 
 
 « .\Uudim; to Gloster's furm and venom. 
 
 ' Jle was juHt created lii.irquis of Dorset. « Xest. 
 
 And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. 
 
 Buckingham, beware of vender dog; 
 
 Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites 
 His venom tooth will rankle to the death: 
 Have not to do with him, beware of him ; 
 Sm, death, and hell have set their nijirks on him ; 
 And all their ministers attend on him. 
 
 Glo. What doth she sav. mv lord of Buckingham I 
 
 Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. 
 
 Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me lor my gentle 
 counsel ? 
 And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? 
 0, but remember this another day. 
 When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow; 
 And say. poor Margaret was a prophetess.-r- 
 Live each of you the subjects to his hate. 
 And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit. 
 
 Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her 
 curses. 
 
 Riv. And so doth mine; I muse,' why she's at 
 liberty. 
 
 Glo. I cannot blame her. by God's holy mother, 
 She hath had too much wrong, and I repent 
 My part thereof that I have done to her. 
 
 Q.Kliz. 1 never did her anv, to my knowledge. 
 
 Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. 
 
 1 was too hot to do some body good. 
 That is too cold in thinkins of it now. 
 Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid ; 
 He is fiank'd' uj) to fatting for his pains;— 
 God pardon them that arc the cause thereof! 
 
 Riv. A virtuous and a ehristian-like conclusion, 
 To pray lor them that have done .scalli- to us. 
 
 Glo. So do I ever, being well adns'd ; — 
 For had I curs'd now. I had curs'd myself [.Isiiie. 
 Enter C.itesbt. 
 
 Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you,— 
 And for your grace,— and jou, my noble lords. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Catcsby I come; — Lords, will you go 
 with me ? 
 
 Riv. Madam, we will attend upon your grace. 
 {Exeunt all but (iLosTEn, 
 
 Glo. I do the wrong, and (irst begin to brawl. 
 The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, 
 I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
 Clarence,— whom I, indeed, have laid in dark 
 
 ness, — 
 I do bewecp to many simple gulls; 
 Namel}-, to Stanli'y, Hastings, Buckingham; 
 And tell them— 'tis the queen, and her allie.s. 
 That stir the king against the duke my brotlier. 
 Now they believe it; and withal whet me 
 To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey : 
 But then I sigli, and with a piece of scripture, 
 Tell them— that God bids us do good tor evil: 
 And thus I clothe my naked villany 
 With old odd ends, stol'n forth of lioly writ. 
 And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 
 
 Enter two Murderers. 
 But soft, here come my executioners. — ■ 
 How now, my hardy, stout-resolved mates 1 
 Are you now going'to despatch this thing ! 
 1 Muni. We are, my lord ; and come to have 
 the warrant. 
 That we may be admitted where he is. 
 
 Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about 
 me: [Gives tlie Warrant. 
 
 W^hcn you have done, repair to Crosby-place. 
 But, sirs, be sudden in the e.vccution. 
 Withal obdurate, do not hear Jiim jilead ; 
 For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps. 
 May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 
 1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to 
 prate. 
 Talkers are no good doers; be assured. 
 We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. 
 Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' 
 eyes drop tears : 
 I like you, lads;— about your business straight 
 Go, go, despatch. 
 1 Muni. We will, my noble lord. 
 
 [ Exeunt 
 
 SCENE IV.— .4 Room in the Tower. 
 
 Enter Clare.nte and Br.\ice.vdury. 
 
 Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day 1 
 
 Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, 
 
 5 Wouder. > J*ut in a sty. » Harm. 
 
458 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OP 
 
 Act I. Scene IV, 
 
 So full of fenrful dreams, of ugly sights, 
 That as I am a Christian laithful man, 
 I would not spend another such a night, 
 Though twerc to buy a world of happy days; 
 So lull of dismal terror was the time. 
 Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray 
 
 you, tell me. 
 Clar. Methought that I had broken from the 
 Tower, 
 And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; 
 And, in my company.my brother Gloater: 
 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
 Upon the hatches ; thenco we look'd toward Eng- 
 land, 
 And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
 Dunng the wars of York and Lancaster 
 That had befallen us. As we paced along 
 Upon the giddy tooting of the hatches, 
 Methought, that fl luster stumbled; and, in tailing, 
 Struck nic, that thought to stay him. overboard. 
 Into Uie tumbling billows of the inain. 
 
 heaven ! methought, what pain il was to drown! 
 What dreadlul noi.se of water in mine ears ! 
 What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
 Meihought, I saw a thou.sand learlul wrecks- 
 A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon; 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
 Inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels, 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 
 Some lay m dead men's skulls ; and, in those holes 
 Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 
 (As twere in scorn of eyes) rcHecting gems 
 That woo d ihe slimy bottom of the deep, 
 And mock d the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 
 
 Bmk. Had you such leisure in the time of death 
 To gaze ujion these secrets of the deep ' 
 
 Clar. Methought, I had; and otten did I strive 
 To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood 
 Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
 To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air; 
 liut smother d it within my panting bulk 
 Which almost burst to belch it in the sea! 
 
 Brak. Awak d you not with tins sore agony ' 
 
 Uar. O no, my dream was lengtlien'd after 
 lite; 
 O, then began the tempest to my soul ' 
 
 1 pass d, mellioiight, I lie im-bmcholy liood. 
 With that grim leriyuiaii which poets write of. 
 Unto Ihe kingdom of periietual night. 
 The lirst that there did greet my stranger soul 
 Was my great fither-in-law, renowned Warwick 
 Who cry d A[uv,d~lVhat .imurgi: for perjury 
 Ian tkusilurk lunnarchij affiird false Clarence ? 
 And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by 
 A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
 Dabliledin blood; and he shriek'd out aloud — 
 Clarence u cume,— false, fleeling, perfur'd Cla- 
 rence, — 
 
 Thai s/abli'd me in the field hi/ Tewksburii — 
 ^cize on liiin. furies, take him to i/our torments.' 
 With that, methought, a legion of Ibul fiends 
 h.n\iron d me, and howled in mine ears 
 Such hideous cries, tluit, with the very noise 
 I treinbling waked, and. for a season after. 
 Could not believe but that I was in hell; 
 Such terrible impression made my dream. 
 
 Brack. No marvel, lord, that it allrighted you: 
 I am alraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 
 
 Clar. 0, lirakenbiiry, I have done these things — 
 That nov.' give evidence against my soul,— 
 For Edward's sake; and, see how he requites 
 me ! — ^ 
 
 God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee. 
 But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds. 
 Yet e.\ecute thy wrath on me alone: 
 0, spare my guiltless wile, and my poor cliil- 
 
 dren ! — 
 
 1 pray thee, gentle keeper, slay liy me ; 
 Mysoul IS heavy, and I fiin would sleep. 
 
 give your grace good 
 
 ht. 
 
 Brak. I will, mylord; God 
 rest ! — 
 
 [ChAHK>:cB reposes tiimsTlf on a chair. 
 borrow breaks seasons, ami re|iosnig hours, 
 Makes the iiighl morning.aiid llie iiooii-tide ni 
 Princes have but iheir titles liir Iheir glones 
 An outwa. d honor lor an inward toil ; ' 
 
 And, lor unlcit imagination.s, 
 Tliey ollcn feel a world of restless cares : 
 So tiiat between their titles, and low name 
 There s nothing dillers but the outward tame. 
 
 Enter the two Murderers. 
 1 Murd. Ho! who's here? 
 
 Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow? and how 
 cam St thou hither ! 
 
 1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I 
 came hither on my legs. 
 
 Brak. What, so brief? 
 
 2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief than te- 
 dious:— 
 
 Let him see our commission ; talk no more. 
 {A Paper is delivered to Brakenbuuy, «'Ao reads it, 
 Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver 
 The noble duke of Clarence to your hands :— 
 I will not reason what is meant hereby, 
 Because I will be guiltless of the meahimr. 
 Here are the keys ;— there sits the duke asleep: 
 1 11 to the king ; and signify to him, 
 That I thus have resign'd to you my charge. 
 
 1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a poiiit of wisdom: 
 Fare you well. [E.rit BRAKEXBunY. 
 
 2 il/i;)v/. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ? 
 
 1 Murd. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, 
 when he wakes. 
 
 2 Murd. When he wakes! why fool, he shall 
 never wake until the great judgment day. 
 
 1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him 
 sleeping. 
 
 2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgment, 
 nalh 111! il a kind of remorse in me. 
 
 1 Murd. What! art thou afraid ? 
 
 2 !\Iurd. Notio kill him. having a warrant for it ; 
 but to be damn'd lor killing hini, from the which 
 no warrant can defend me. 
 
 1 Murd. 1 thought, thou hadst been resolute. 
 
 2 Murd. So 1 am, to let him live. 
 
 1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and 
 tell him so. 
 
 2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee. stay a little : I hope, 
 this holy humor of mine will change; it was wont 
 to hold ine but while one would tell twenty. 
 
 1 ;i/iin/. How dost thou feel thyself now ? 
 
 2 Murd. 'Faithsomecertaindregsof conscience 
 are jet within me. 
 
 1 Murd. lleineiuberourreward,when the deed's 
 done. 
 
 2 liturd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward. 
 
 1 Mur<l. Where's thy conscience now ? 
 
 2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 
 
 1 Murd. So when he opens his purse to give us 
 our reward, thy conscience flics out, 
 
 2 il/i/n/. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few 
 or none, will entertain it. 
 
 1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again ! 
 
 2 il/«r(,'. I'll not meddle with it, it is a danger, 
 ous thing, it makes a man a coward ; a man cannot 
 steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, 
 but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with his neigh- 
 bor's wife, but it detects him : 'Tis a blushing 
 shamc-liiced spirit,tliat mutinies in a man's bosom; 
 it fills one full of obstacles : it made me once re- 
 store a purse of gold, that by chance I found; it 
 beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of 
 all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and 
 every man, that means to live well, endeavors to 
 trust to liimscli; and live without it. 
 
 1 Murd. 'Zounils.it is even now at my eibow, 
 persuading me not to kill the duke. 
 
 2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe 
 him not : he would insinuate with thee, but to 
 make thee .sigh. 
 
 1 Murd. I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail 
 with me. 
 
 2 Muni. Spoke like a talP fellow, that respects 
 his repiilali.iu. Come, shall we lall to work ? 
 
 1 Murd. Take him over the costard^ witli the 
 hills ol Ihy sword, and then throw _'iim into the 
 malmsey-liutt, in the ne.xt loom. 
 
 2 Murd. O excellent device ! and make a son 
 ofhiiii. ' 
 
 1 Murd. Soft ! he wakes. 
 
 2 Murd. Strike. 
 
 1 Muni. No, we'll reason with him. 
 
 Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup 
 
 of \viiie. 
 1 Murd. Vou shall have wine enough, my lord, 
 
 anon. 
 Clai: In God's name, what art thou ? 
 1 Murd. A man, as you are. 
 
 > Brave. 
 
 • UeaO. 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 KING KICHARD III. 
 
 459 
 
 Clar. But not, as I am, royal. 
 
 1 Muni. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 
 
 Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are 
 humble. 
 
 1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks 
 mine own. 
 
 Clar. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou 
 speak 1 
 Vour eyes do menace me : Why look you pale 1 
 Wlio .sent you hitlier? Wherelbre do you cornel 
 
 Both Mtird. To, to, to, 
 
 Clar. To murder me] 
 
 B(i/h Murd. Ay, ay. 
 
 Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, 
 And tlirrrlore cannot iiave the hearts to do it. 
 W lit 'M ill, my I'ricnds, have I otl5nded you ? 
 
 1 Murd. Oltendcd us you have not, but the king. 
 Clar. 1 shall be reconcil'd to him again. 
 
 2 Murd. Never, my lord ; therelbre prepare to 
 
 die. 
 Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world of 
 
 men, 
 To slay tlie innocent 1 "What is my otTencc 1 
 Where is the evidence that doth accuse me 1 
 What lawl'ul quost^ have given their verdict up 
 Unlo tlie Irownnig judge 1 or who pronounced 
 The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death i 
 Bflbre I be convict by course of law, 
 To tiireaten me with death is most unlawful. 
 I chnrRe you, as you hope for any goodness, 
 By Christ's dear blood shed tor our grievous sins, 
 That you depart, and lay no hands on me ; 
 Till' (lectl >oi undertake is damnable. 
 
 1 i)/«;-f/."\Vhatwe will do, we do upon command. 
 
 2 Murd. And he, that iiath commanded, is our 
 
 king. 
 Clar. I'Inoneous vassal ! the great King of kings 
 Halh ill Ilie table of his law commanded, 
 That Ihoii shall do no murder: Wilt thou then 
 Spurn ;a His edict, and fullil a man's ] 
 Take heed ; lor lie holds vengeance in his hand, 
 To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 
 2 Murd. And tliat same vengeance doth he hurl 
 
 ou tliee, 
 Vnv false forswearing, and for murder too: 
 Tliou dirist receive the sacrament, to fight 
 In (jiiarrel'' ol' the house of Lancaster. 
 
 1 Murd. And like a traitor to the name of God, 
 Didbt break that vow; and, with tliy treacherous 
 
 blade. 
 Unrip'dbt the bowels of t!iy sovereign's son. 
 
 2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and 
 
 delend. 
 
 1 Mur.i. Wow canst thou urge God's dreadful 
 law* to us, 
 Wiieu thou hast broke it in such dear degree? 
 
 Clar. Alas I for whose sake did I that ill deed 1 
 For Kdvvard, lor my brother, for his sake : 
 He sends you not to n^urder me for this ; 
 For in tlia't sin he is as deep as I. 
 li God will be avenged for the deed, 
 O, know you, tliat he doth it publicly ; 
 Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm ; 
 Jle needs no indirect nor lawless course, 
 To cut oir those that have ollended him. 
 
 1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister, 
 Whin t;allant-springing, brave Planlagenet, 
 That jinneely novice, was struck dead by theel 
 
 Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. 
 
 1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy 
 fault. 
 I'lovoke us hitlier now to slaughter thee. 
 
 Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me ■ 
 I am his brother, and I love him well. 
 If you are hired for meed." go back again. 
 And I will send you to my brother Gloster; 
 Who shall reward you better tor my ufc, 
 Tiian Edward wiilfor tidings of my death. 
 
 2 Murd. You are decciv'ci, your brother Gloster 
 hates jou. 
 
 Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear; 
 Go you to him from me. 
 
 B(i(h Murd. Ay, so we will. 
 
 C/«r.Tell him.when that ourprincely lather Y'ork 
 Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, 
 And charged us from his soul to love each other. 
 He Httle thought of this divided f^end^7hip : 
 Bid Gloster think on tJiis, and lie will weep. 
 
 1 Murd. Ay, mill-stones; as he lesson'd us to 
 weep. 
 
 Clar. O, do not slander him. for he is kind. 
 
 1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest. — Come, you 
 deceive yourself; 
 'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. 
 
 Clar. It cannot be; lor he hewcpt my fortune, 
 And hugged me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, 
 That he would labor my delivery. 
 
 1 Murd. Why so he doth, when he delivers you 
 From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 
 
 2 Murd. Make peace with God, lor you must die, 
 
 my lord. 
 
 Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, 
 To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
 And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind. 
 That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring mcl 
 Ah. sirs, consider, he thai set you on 
 To do this deed, will hate you for the deed, 
 
 2 Murd. What shall we do] 
 
 Clar. Relent, and save your souls. 
 
 1 Murd. RelentI 'tis cowardly, and womanish. 
 Clar, Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish. — 
 
 Which of you, if you were a prince's son, 
 
 Being iicnf^ from liberty, as 1 am now, — 
 
 Iftwosuch murderers aA yourselves came to you, — 
 
 Would not entreat for lile1— 
 
 My Iriend, I spy some pity in thy looks; 
 
 O, if thine eye be not a llatterer. 
 
 Come thou on my side, and entreat for me. 
 
 As you would beg, were you in my distress. 
 
 A begging prince what beggar pities not ! 
 
 2 Murd. Look behind you. my lord. 
 
 1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not 
 
 do, [Stabs hif/i. 
 
 I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt wiuiiii. 
 
 [Exit ivilh the hodij. 
 
 2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desiierately de 
 
 spatch'd ! 
 How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands 
 Of this most grievous guilty murder done ! 
 
 Re-enter first Murderer. 
 
 1 Murd. How now] what mean'sl thou, that 
 
 thou help'st me not } 
 By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you 
 ha\e been. 
 
 2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his 
 
 brother! 
 Take thou the fee. and tell him what I say 
 For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit, 
 
 1 Murd. So do not I: go, coward, as thou art. — 
 Well. I'll go hide the liody in some liole. 
 Till that tiie duke give order for his burial: 
 And when I have my meed, I will away ; 
 For this will out, and then I must not stay. [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— .4 Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Ki\« Edward, [led in sick,) Queen Eliza- 
 beth, Dorset, Riveus, Hastings, BuciaNuiiAM, 
 GuEV, ami olhars. 
 
 K. Edw. Why, so:— now have I done a good 
 day's work; — 
 
 You peers continue this united league: 
 
 I every day expec t an embassage 
 
 From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; 
 
 And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven, 
 » Inquest, jury, o {)n tbo part. 
 
 Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. 
 Rivers, and IIastin:::s, take each other's hand; 
 Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. 
 
 Rlv. By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging 
 hate ! 
 And with my hand I seal my true heart's love, 
 
 Ha.st. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! 
 
 A". £f/if. Take heed, you dally not before your king 
 Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings, 
 Contbund your hidden falsehood, and award 
 Either of you to be the other's end. 
 
 1 Keward. ^ Shut up 
 
460 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 Act n. 
 
 Hast. Su prosper I, as I swear perfect love ! 
 
 Riv And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! 
 
 A', irfm. ^Iadam, yourself are not exempt in this,— 
 Nor yonr son Dorset,— Buckingham, nor you ;— 
 You have been I'actious one against the other. 
 Wife, love lord Hastings, let him Kiss your hand; 
 And what you do, do it unli?igncdly. 
 
 Q. Eli:. There, Hastnigs;— 1 h'iU never more 
 remember 
 Our former hatred; So thrive I, and mine ! 
 
 K. Kdw. Dorset, embrace him, — Hastings, love 
 lord maniuis. 
 
 Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, 
 Upon my part shall be' inviolable. 
 
 Ji(wl. And so swear I. [Embraces Dorset. 
 
 K. E'I'W. Kow princely Bucliingham, seal thou 
 this league. 
 With thy embraceinents tomy wife's allies, 
 And make nic ha]ipy in your unity. 
 
 Btuk. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate 
 Upon your grace, [Tu the Queen.] but with all 
 
 duteous love 
 Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me 
 With hate in those where I expect most love ! 
 When 1 have most need to employ a Iriend, 
 And most assured that he is a rtiend. 
 Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, 
 Be he uiilo me ! this do 1 beg of heaven. 
 When I am-cold in love to }'ou or yours. 
 
 [Embru'dng Rivers, S;c. 
 
 K. Eilw. A pleasing cordial, princely Bucking- 
 ham, 
 Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. 
 There wanteth now our brother (Jlostcr here, 
 To make ttie blessed period of this peace. 
 
 Bucli. And, in good time, here comes the noble 
 duke. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Gto. Good morrow to my sovereign king, and 
 queen ; 
 And, princely peers, a happy time of day ! 
 
 K. Eilw. Hajipy, indeed, as we have spent the 
 day :— 
 Brother, we have done deeds of charity; 
 Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate. 
 Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 
 
 Gto. A blessed labor, my most sovereign liege. — 
 Among this princely heap, if any here, 
 By liilse intelligence, or wrong surmise, 
 Hold me a foe; 
 
 If 1 umvitlingly, or in my rage. 
 Have aught committed that is hardly borne 
 By any in Ihis presence, I desire 
 To reconcile me to his friendly peace 
 Tis death to me to be at enmity; 
 
 I hate It, and desire all good men's lovo. — 
 First, madam, I entreat true ]ieaee of you. 
 Which 1 will purchase n^ilh my duteous service;— 
 Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
 
 II ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ; 
 Of you, lord Rivers, — and, lord Grey, of you. 
 That all without desert have fro\vn"'d oii me ;— 
 Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. 
 
 I do not know that Englishman alive. 
 With whom my soul is any jot at odds. 
 More than the infant that is born to-night; 
 J thank my God lor my humility. 
 
 Q. ELiz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter. 
 1 would to God, all strifes were well coin pounded.— 
 My sovereign lord, I do beseech your iiighness 
 To take our brother Clarence to > our grace. 
 
 Gto. Why, madam, have I olli-i'd love lor this, 
 To be so llouted in this royal presence ] 
 Who knows ijot, that the gentle duke is dead ? 
 
 [ They all start. 
 iou do him injury to scorn his corse. 
 
 K. Eilw. Who knows not he is dead ! who knows 
 he is ] 
 
 Q. Eli:. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! 
 
 Hiiek: Look 1 so ])ale, lord Dorset, as the rest ! 
 
 Uur. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the pre- 
 sence, • 
 But_his red color hath forsook his cheek. 
 
 K. Edw. Is Clarence dead 1 the order was re- 
 vers d. 
 
 Gto. But he, poor man, by your first order died, 
 And that a winged Mercury did bear; 
 Some tardy crijiple horc th'e countermand, 
 'J'liat came too lag to see him buried: 
 
 God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, 
 Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, 
 Desen-e not worse than wretched Clarence did. 
 And yet go cufrciit from suspicion I 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 Stan. A boon, my sovereign, formy service done. 
 
 K.Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of 
 sorrow. 
 
 Stan. I will notrise unless yourhighness hear me. 
 
 K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou re- 
 Quest'st. 
 
 Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; 
 Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman. 
 Lately attendant on the duke of Norlblk. 
 
 A'. Ertw. Have 1 a tongue to doom my brother's 
 death. 
 And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave I 
 My brother kill'd no man, hia liiult was thought. 
 And yet his punishment w,as bitter death. 
 Who sued to me for him ! who, in my wrath, 
 Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised \ 
 Who spoke of brotherhood ! who spoke of love ' 
 Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake 
 The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? 
 Who told me, in the ticid of Tewksbury, 
 When Oxliird had me down, he rescued me, 
 And said. Dear briithtr, live, and be a king! 
 Who told me, when we hoth lay in the Held, 
 Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
 Even in his garments ; and did give himself. 
 All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night? 
 All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
 Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you 
 Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
 But when your carters or your waiting-vassals, 
 Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced 
 The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
 You straight are oh your knees for pardon, pardon; 
 And I, unjustly too, must grant it you, — 
 But for my brother, not a man would speak, — 
 Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself 
 For him, poor soul.— The proude-st of you all 
 Have been beholden to him in his life; 
 Yet none of you would once plead for his life. — 
 God ! I fear thy justice will take hold 
 On me, and you, aiid mine, and yours, for this. — 
 Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. 0, 
 Poor Clarence ! 
 
 [Ej-eiint Kino, QrEEu, Hastings, Rivers, 
 Dorset, a7id Grey. 
 
 Gto. This is the fruit of rashness !—Mark'd you 
 not. 
 How that the guilty kindred of the queen 
 Look'd pale, when they did hearof Clarencc'death ' 
 0! they did urge it still unto the king ; 
 God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go. 
 To comfort Edward with our company ! 
 Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.— The same. 
 
 Enter the Duchess of York, with a Son and 
 
 Daughter if Clarence. 
 
 Son. Good grandam, IcU us, is our father dead ' 
 
 Duch. No, hoy. 
 
 Vaugh. Why" do you weep so oft? and beat 
 your breast; 
 And cry— O Clarence, my unhappy smi J 
 
 So)i. Why do you look on us.and shake your head. 
 And call us— orphans, wrelclics, cast-avvays, 
 Ifthat our noble father he alive? 
 
 Duch. My pretty cousins. you mistakp me both. 
 I do lament the sickness of llie king. 
 As loath to lose hiin, not your lather's death ; 
 It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost. 
 
 Sott.Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead 
 The king my uncle is to blame for this. 
 God will revenge it; whom 1 will importune 
 With earnest prayers all to that etlcct. 
 
 Duiigh. And so will I. 
 
 Duch. Peace, childion, peace! the king doth love 
 you well ; 
 Incapable^ and shallow innocents. 
 You cannot: guess who caus'd your father's death. 
 
 Soil. Grandam, we can; liirmvgood uncleGloster 
 Told me, the king, provok'd lo't hy the queen, 
 Devised iniiicnchments to imprison him; 
 And when my uncle told me so, he went., ■ 
 And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my check; 
 " lijiiorant. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KINa RICHARD III. 
 
 461 
 
 Bade me rely on him, as on ray father, 
 And he would love me dearly as his child. 
 Duck. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle 
 shapes, 
 And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! 
 He is my son, ay, and therein my sliame. 
 Yet from my duss he drew not this deceit. 
 
 Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, gran- 
 dam ^ 
 Duck. Ay, boy. 
 
 Stni. I cannot tliink it. Hark! what noise is this! 
 E/iter QCEES Elizabeth, di^traciedtij; Rivers 
 and DoKSET, fiMowing her. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah ! who sliall hinder me to wail and 
 weep ] 
 T > chide my fortune, and torment myself? 
 r.i join with black despair against my soul, 
 And lo myself become an enemy. 
 D«cA. What means this scene of rude impatience 1 
 Q. Kliz. To make an act of tragic violence; — 
 Kdward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. 
 Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? 
 Why wither not the leaves, that want their sapl — 
 If you will live, lament ; it die, be brief; 
 That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; 
 Or, like obedient subjects, follow him 
 To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. 
 
 Duch. .\h, so much interest have I in thy sorrow, 
 As I had title in thy noble husband ! 
 1 have bewept a worthy iiusband's death, 
 And liv'd by looking oh his images : 
 But now two mirrors of his princely semblance 
 Are cnick'd in pieces by malignant death; 
 And 1 lor comlbrt have but one laisc glass, 
 That grieves me when I sec my shame in him. 
 Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mollier, 
 And hast the comfort of thy childcrn loll thee : 
 Butdeath hath snatch'd my husband from my arms. 
 And pliick'd two crutches from my feeble hands, 
 Clarence and Edward. 0, what cause have 1, 
 (Thine being but a moiety of my grief,) 
 To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries! 
 Hun. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father's 
 death ; 
 How can we aid you with our kindred tears 1 
 
 Daugfi. Our fatherlessdistress was left unmoan'd, 
 Your widow-dolor likewise be unwept! , 
 Q. Kliz. Give me no help in lamentation, 
 I am not barren to bring forth laments: 
 All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
 That I, being govern'd by the wat'ry moon. 
 May scud forth plenteous tears to drown the world! 
 A h, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward ! 
 Ckit. Ah, lor our father, for our dear lord Cla- 
 rence ! 
 Dach. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and 
 
 Clarence ! 
 Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and 
 
 he's gone. 
 CHI. What stay had we, but Clarence ? and he's 
 
 gone. 
 Duch. What stays had I, btit they? and they are 
 
 gone. 
 Q. Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. 
 Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss. 
 Duch. Was never mother, had so dear a loss. 
 Alas! 1 am the inolhor of these griefs; 
 Tkieir woes are parcell'd,* mine are general. 
 She lor an Edward weeps, and so do I ; 
 I lb I* a Clarence weep, so doth not she ; 
 These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I: 
 I lor an Edward weep, so do not they: 
 Alas ! you three, on me, threefold distress'd. 
 Pour all your tears; 1 am your sorrow's nurse. 
 And 1 will jiamper it with lamentations. 
 Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis- 
 pleas'il. 
 That you take with unthankfulness his doing; 
 In common worldly things, 'tis called — ui^grateful. 
 With dull unwillihgness to repay a debt. 
 Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; 
 Much more to be thus opposite with heaven. 
 For itreiiuires the royal debt it lent you. 
 
 Hiv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother. 
 Of the young prince your son: send straight for him. 
 Let iiim be ciown'd; in him your comfort lives ; 
 Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave. 
 And jilant youi ;oys in living Edward's throne. 
 ' Divided. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Bl'ckixuuam, Sta>'ley, Hastixgs, 
 RATCUFr, a«i/ o/to's. 
 Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have causn 
 To wail the dimming of our shining star ; 
 But none can cure their harms by vvailiiig them. — 
 Madam, my mother, 1 do cry you mercy, 
 I did not see your grace :— Humbly on my knee 
 I crave your blessing. 
 Duch. God bless thee ; and put meekness in thy 
 breast. 
 Love, charity, obedience, .and true duty! 
 
 Glo. Amen ; and make me die a good old man! — 
 That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing ; [.iside. 
 I marvel that her grace did leave it out. 
 
 Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing 
 peers. 
 That bear this mutual Jieavy load of moan. 
 Now cheer each other in each other's love ; 
 Though we have spent our harvest of this king. 
 We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
 The broken rancor of your high-swoln hearts. 
 But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together. 
 Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept: 
 Me seeinelh good, that, with some little train. 
 Forthwith fiom Ludlow the young prince be tetch'd 
 Hither to London,- to be crown'd our king. 
 
 Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of ' 
 Buckingham! 
 
 Buck. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude, 
 The ncw-heal'd wound of malice should break out; 
 Which would be so much the more dangerous. 
 By how much the estate is green, and yet ungo- 
 
 vern'd : 
 Where every horse bears his commanding rein. 
 And may direct his course as please" himself, 
 As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, 
 In my opinion, ought to be prevented. 
 
 Glo. I hope, the king made peace with all of us; 
 And the coinpiict is hrm, and true, in me, 
 
 Riv. And so in me; and so, 1 think, in all: 
 Yet, since it is but green, it should be put 
 To no apparent likelihood of breach. 
 Which, haply, by much company might be urged : 
 Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, 
 That it is meet so lew should fetch the prince. 
 
 Ihat. And so say I. 
 
 GU}. Then be it so ; and go we to determine 
 Who they sliall be that straight shall post to Lud- 
 low. 
 Madam, — and you my mother, — will you go 
 To give your censures- in this weighty business? 
 \_Exeunt all but Buckisuham and Glosteh 
 
 Buck. _My lord, whoever journeys lo the prince, 
 For God's sjake, let not us two stay at home : 
 For, by the way, I'll sort occirsion. 
 As index^ to the story we late talk'd of. 
 To part the queen's proud kindred Irom the prince. 
 
 Glo. My oilier sell, my counsel's consistory, 
 My oracle, my prophet ! — My dear cousin, 
 I, as a child, will go by thy direction. 
 Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 SCENE III.— .4 Street. 
 
 Enter two Citizens, meeting. 
 
 1 at. Good-morrow, neighbor : Whither away 
 
 so liist ? 
 
 2 CU. I promise you, I scarcely know myself: 
 Hear you the news abroad ? 
 
 1 at. Yes ; the king's dead. 
 
 2 CiY. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the 
 
 better: 
 I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world. 
 Enter another Citizen. 
 
 3 at. Neighbors, God speed ! 
 
 1. 
 
 at. Give you good-morrow, sir. 
 
 at. Doth the news hold of good king Ed- 
 ward's death ? 
 at. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help, the while ! 
 at. Then, masters, look to see a troublous 
 
 world. 
 at. No, no; by God's gooa grace, his son 
 sliall reign. 
 3 at. Woe to that land, that's govern'd by a child! 
 2 at. In him there is a hope of government; 
 That in this nonage,-' council under him. 
 And, 111 his full and ripen'd years, himself, 
 No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well 
 a Opiuions. ' i. e. Preparatory. « Minurity. 
 
462 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 1 at. So stood the state, when Henry the Sixth 
 Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 
 3 at. Stood the state so ! no, no, good friends, 
 God wot;' 
 For then this land was famously enrich'd 
 With politic grave counsel ; then the king 
 Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 
 1 at. Why. so hath this, both by his father and 
 
 mother. 
 3 at. Betterit were they all came by his father- 
 Or, by his father, there were none at all : 
 For emulation now, who shall be nearest, 
 Wdl touch us all too near, if God prevent not. 
 O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster; 
 And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and 
 
 proud ; 
 And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule. 
 This sickly land might solace as belbrc. 
 
 1 at. Come, come, we lear the worst ; all will 
 
 be well. 
 3 at. When clouds are seen, wise men put on 
 their cloaks ; 
 When great leaves fiill, then winter is at hand; 
 When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? 
 Untimely storms make men expect a dearth: 
 AH may be well ; but, if God sort it so, 
 Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. 
 
 2 at. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear: 
 ■You cannot reason^ almost with a man 
 
 That looks not heavily, and full of dread. 
 
 3 at. Before the dajs of change, still is it so: 
 By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust 
 Knsuing danger; as, by proof, we see 
 
 Tlie water swell before a boist'rous storm. 
 But leave it all to God. Whither away ? 
 
 2 at. Marry, we were sent for to the justices 
 
 3 at. And so was I ; I'll bear you company. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— yl Room in tlie Pulace. 
 Enter tlie Akchhishop of Yokk, ttie young Dc^e 
 OF \ oiiK, QuEE.N Elizabeth, and tlie Duchess op 
 York. 
 
 Arcli. Last night, I lieard, they lay at Stonv- 
 Stratford; 
 And at Northampton they do rest to-night : 
 To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 
 
 puch. I long with all 'my heart to see the prince ; 
 J hope, he is much grown since last I saw him. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Butlliearno; they say my son of York 
 Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. 
 
 York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. 
 
 nuch. Why, my good cousin ! it is good to grow. 
 
 iwr/c.Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper. 
 My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow 
 
 More than my brother ; yI(/,quoth my uncle Gloster, 
 kmiiU kerbs luive grace, great weeds do grow apace : 
 And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast. 
 Because sweet llowers are slow, and weeds make 
 haste. 
 
 Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not 
 hold 
 In him that did obiect the same to thee: 
 He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young, 
 bo long a growing, and so leisurely. 
 That, If his rule were true, he should be gracious. 
 
 Arc/i.. And so, no doubt,he is, my gracious madam. 
 
 Duck. I hope, he is; but vet let mothers doubt. 
 
 1 (wfc. Now,by my troth, ir 1 had been remember'd, 
 I could have given ray uncle's grace a liout. 
 To touch his growth, nearer than he toueh'd mine. 
 
 Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me 
 Jiear it. 
 
 York. JIarrj', they say my uncle grew so fast, 
 That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ; 
 Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. 
 Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. 
 
 Duck. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told you this? 
 
 York. Grandam, his nurse. 
 
 Ouch. His nurse ? why, she was dead ere thou 
 wast born. 
 
 York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. 
 
 Q. £/ic. A parlo us boy : Go to, you are too shrewd. 
 
 Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child 
 
 Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Arch. Here comes a messenger : 
 
 What news ? 
 
 Mess. Such news, my lord, 
 
 As grieves me to unfold. 
 
 Q. Eliz. How doth the prince? 
 
 Uless. Well, madam, and in health. 
 
 Diieh. What is thy news ? 
 
 Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to 
 Pomfrct, / 
 
 With them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. 
 
 Duch. Who hath committed them ? 
 
 ^less. The mighty dukes 
 
 Gloster and Buckingham. 
 
 Q. Eliz. For what offence ? 
 
 Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd; 
 Why, or for what, the nobles were committed, 
 Is all unknown lo me, my gracious lady. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah me, 1 see the ruin of my house! 
 The tiger now hath seized the gentle Kind : 
 Insulting tjiauiiy licgius to jut 
 r;>i'ii llie inii.iciiit and awless throne: — 
 Wekoiue de.-tf ui-lion. blood, and massacre! 
 1 see, as in a map, the end of all. 
 
 Duch. Accursed and unquiet, wrangling days! 
 How many of you have mine eyes beheld ? 
 My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
 And ollen up and down my sons were tost. 
 For me to joy and weep, their gain and loss: 
 And being seated, and domestic broils 
 Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. 
 Make war upon themselves; brother to brother. 
 Blood to blood, self 'gainst self: — O, preposterous 
 And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen! 
 Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanc- 
 tuary. — 
 Madam, liirewell. 
 
 Duch. Stay, I will go with jou. 
 
 Q. Eliz. You have no cause. 
 
 Arch. My gracious lady, go, 
 
 . , . , , [To the Queen, 
 
 And thither bear your treasure and your goods. 
 For my part, I'll resign unto your grace 
 The seal I keep; And so betide to me. 
 As well! tender you, and all of yours ! 
 Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.~A Street. 
 
 The Trumpets sound. Enter the Pkince of Wales, 
 Gloster, Bl-ckiscuam, Cardinal Bol-rchier, and 
 others. ' 
 
 Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to 
 
 your chamber. 
 Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sove- 
 reign : 
 Tlie weary way hath made you melancholy. 
 
 rnnce. No, uncle ; but our crosses on the %vay 
 Have made it tedious, weari.some, and heavy: 
 want more uncles here to welcome me. 
 Gto. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your 
 years ' 
 
 ' Knows. Converse. I 
 
 Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit: 
 No more can you distinguish of a man. 
 Than of his outward .show; which, God he knows, 
 Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart. 
 Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous: 
 Your grace attended to their sugar'd words. 
 But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 
 God keep you from them, and from such false 
 
 friends ! 
 Prince. God keep me from false friends ! but 
 
 they were none. 
 Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to 
 
 greet you. 
 
 Enter the Lord Mayor and his Train. 
 May. God bless your grace with healtii and 
 happy dai's ! 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 463 
 
 Prince. I thank you, good mv lord— and tliank 
 you all.— [£xeiiiil Mayor, 6cc 
 
 I thought my mother, and my brother York, 
 Would long ere this have met us on the way : 
 Fye, what a slug is Hastings ! that he comes not 
 To tell us, whether they will come, or no. 
 £n/er Hastings. 
 Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweat- 
 ing lord. 
 Prince. Welcome, my lord; What, will our mc- 
 
 tlier come ? 
 lla.^:t. On what occasion, God he kTiows, not I, 
 The queen your mother, and your brother York, 
 Have taken sanctuary : The tender jirince 
 Would lain have come with me to meet your grace. 
 But by his mother was perforce withheld. 
 
 Buck. Fye! what an indirect and peevish course 
 Is tins ol' liers! — Lord cardinal, will your grace 
 Persuade the queen to send the duke oI'Y'ork, 
 Unto his princely brother presently 7 
 If she deny, — lord Hastings, go with him, 
 And from her jealous arms piuck him perforce. 
 
 Card. iMy lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory 
 Can from his mother win ihe duke of York, 
 Anon expect him here ; But if she be obdurate 
 To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid 
 We should infringe the holy privilege 
 Of blessed .sanctuary ! not lor all this land. 
 Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. 
 
 Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord. 
 Too ceremonious, and traditional : 
 Weigh it but with the grossiiess of this age, 
 You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
 The benefit thereof is always granted 
 To those whose dealings havedcserv'd the place. 
 And those who have the wit to claim the place: 
 This prince hath neither claim'd it. nor deserv'd it. 
 And thereloie, in mine opinion, cannot have it: 
 Then, taking him from thence, that is not there, 
 Y'ou break no privilege nor charter there. 
 Oft have 1 heard ol' sanctuary men ; 
 But sanctuary children, ne'er till now. 
 Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for 
 once. — 
 Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with mc 1 
 Hii.-it. I go, my lord. 
 
 Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you 
 may. [Exeunt Cardinal and il.\STiXGS. 
 Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, 
 Where shall we sojourn till our coronation I 
 
 (iki. Where it seems best unto your royal self. 
 If 1 may counsel you, some day or two. 
 Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: 
 Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit 
 For your best health and recreation. 
 
 Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place:— 
 Did Julius Ca:sar build that place, my lord ] 
 
 Gto. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place: 
 Which, since, succeeding ages have re-editied. 
 
 Prince. Is it upon record t or else reported 
 Successively from age to age he built it? 
 Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 
 Prince. But say, my lord, it were notjjiegister'd 
 Methiiiks, the truth should live from agcitojie, 
 As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, "™ . 
 
 Even to the general all-ending day. ?■- 
 
 (!lu. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er4ive 
 „ . long. [Asvie. 
 
 Prince. What say you. uncle 1 
 Gto. I say, without characters, fame lives long. 
 Thus like the formal' vice. Iniquity, 1 r j ■ j 
 I moralize two meanings in one word. ) L^*'*- 
 
 Prince. Thai Julius CcDsar was a famous man: 
 With what his valor did enrich his wit. 
 His wit set down to make his valor live: 
 Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
 For now he lives in fame, though not in lili-.— 
 1 11 tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,— 
 
 Buck. What, my gracious lord ! 
 ^Prince. An if I live until I be a man, 
 I'll win our ancient right in France again, 
 Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king. 
 
 Clu. Short summers lightly* have a forward 
 spring. [Aside. 
 
 Enter Y'or.K, Hastings, and t/ie Cardinal. 
 Buck. Xow, in good time, here comes the duke 
 of Y'ork, 
 ' Sensible Vice, the bulToon in the old pliiys. 
 • Cnmmonly. 
 
 Prince. Richard of Y'ork! how fares our loving 
 
 brother ] 
 York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you 
 
 now. 
 prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours; 
 Too late" he died, that might have kept that title, 
 Which by his death hath lost much majesty. 
 Gill. How lares our cousin, noble lord of York'! 
 York. 1 thank you, gentle uncle. 0, my lord, 
 You said, that idle weeds arc last in growth :' 
 The prince, my brother, hath outgrown me far. 
 Glo. He hath, my lord. 
 
 Y(irk. And therefore is he idle '! 
 
 GIji. 0, my fair cousin, I must not say so. 
 Yifrk. Then he is more beholden to you. than I. 
 Glo. He may command mc. as my sovereign ; 
 But you have power in me as in a kinsman. 
 
 Yi/rk. I pray you, uncle, then, give me this dagger. 
 Glu. My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. 
 Prince. A beggar, brother ! 
 Y(n-k. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give ; 
 And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 
 Gill. A greater gill than that I'll give my cousin. 
 Ywk. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it? 
 Clu. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. 
 York. O then, I see, you'll part but with lighl 
 gifts; 
 In weightier things you 11 say a beggar, nay. 
 Glo. It is too weighly for your grace to wear. 
 York. I weigh it lightly, w ere it heavier. 
 Glo. What, would you have my weapon, little 
 
 lord ! 
 York. 1 would, that I might thank you as you 
 
 call me. 
 Glo. How? 
 York. Little. 
 
 Prince. My lord of Y'ork will still be cross in 
 talk ;— 
 Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. 
 York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with 
 me : — 
 Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ; 
 Because that 1 am little, like an ape. 
 He thinkslhat you should bear me onyour shoulders. 
 jBhcA'. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! 
 To miligale the scorn he gives his uncle. 
 He prettily and aptly tauiits himself: 
 So cunning, and so young, is wonderful. 
 Glo. My gracious lord, vviU't please )0U pass 
 along ? 
 Myself, and my good cousin Bucldngham, 
 Will to your mother ; to entreat of her. 
 To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. 
 York. What, wiU you go unto the Tower, my 
 
 lord ! 
 Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so. 
 York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. 
 Glo. Why, sir, what should you fear ! 
 York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost; 
 My grandam told me. he was murder'd there. 
 Prince. I fear no uncles dead. 
 Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. 
 Prince. An if they live. I hope, I need not fear. 
 But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart. 
 Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince, Yohk, Hastixgs, Cardinal, 
 owl Attendants. 
 Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating Y'ork 
 Was not incensed' by his subtle mother. 
 To taunt and .scorn you thus opprobriously ? 
 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy; 
 Bold, quick, ingenious. Ibrward, capable;^ 
 He's all the mother's, from the top to toe. 
 
 Buck. Well, let them rest.— 
 Come hither, gentle Calesby: thou art sworii 
 As deeply to elfect what we intend. 
 As closely to conceal what we Impart : 
 Thou know^st our reasons urged upon the way;— 
 What think'st thou, is it not an easy matter 
 To make William lord Hastings of our mind, 
 For the instalment of this noble duke 
 In the seat royal of this famous isle? 
 
 Gate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince. 
 That he will not be won to aught against him. 
 Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley ? will 
 
 not he ? 
 Cafe. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. 
 Buck. Well then, no more but tlus : Go, gentle 
 Catesby, 
 • Latiilj. * Incited. s Intellgent. 
 
4G4 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 And, ns it were far oH'. sound thou lord Hastings, 
 How lie dolh stand allected to our purpose; 
 AntI summon tiim to-morrow to the Tower, 
 To sit about tlie coronation. 
 ICthou dost tind liinr tractable to us, 
 Kncourage him. and tell iiim all our reasons: 
 Itiie be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, 
 Be thou so too ; and so break oil' the talk. 
 And give us notice ol'Jiis inclination : 
 For we to-morrow hold divided^ councils. 
 Wherein thyself shall highly be employ'd. 
 (Jlu. Commend me to lord William; tell him, 
 Catesby, 
 His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries 
 To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret'Castle; 
 And bid my friend lor joy of this good news, 
 Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. 
 liuck. Good Cateshy, go, etlect this business 
 
 soundly. 
 Ca/e. My good lords both, with all the heed I 
 
 can. 
 G'to. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we 
 
 sleep 1 
 Cate. You shall, my lord. 
 
 G'to. At Crosby-place, there shall you find us 
 both. [Exit Catesby. 
 
 Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we 
 perceive 
 Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots 1 
 Gio. Chop off his head, man: — somewhat we 
 will do : — 
 And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me 
 The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables 
 Whereof the king my brother was possess'd. 
 £hcA:. I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand. 
 G'to. And look to have it yielded with all kind- 
 ness. 
 Come, let us sup betimes; that afterwards 
 Wemaydigestourcomplotsinsonieform. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— Bcfare Lord Hastings's House. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Iiless. My lord, mv lord,— [Knocking. 
 
 Ham. [Willun.] "Who knocks ? 
 
 Mens. One from lord Stanley. 
 
 Hunt. [Witliin.] What is't o'clock'! 
 
 Mess. Upon the stroke of four. 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hatt. Cannot thy master sleep the tedious nights ? 
 
 ALess. So It should seem by that I have to say. 
 First he commends him to your noble lordship. 
 
 ifo-v/. And then,— 
 
 Miss. And then he sends j-ou word, he dreamt 
 To-n;glit the boar had rased olihis helm : 
 Besides, he says, there are two councils lield ; 
 And that may be determin'd at the one, 
 Which may make you and him to rue at the other. 
 Thcrelbre he sends to know your lordship's plea- 
 sure, — 
 If presently, you will take horse with him. 
 Anil with all speed post wuh him toward the north. 
 To shun the danger that his soul divines. 
 
 Hmt. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord ; 
 Bid liim not lear the separated councils: 
 His lionor, and myself, are at the one ; ■• 
 
 And, at the other, is my good triend Catesby; 
 Where nothing can proceed, that touchcth us. 
 Whereof 1 shall not have intelligence. 
 Teil him, his fears are shallow, wanting instance:-' 
 And Ibr liis dreams — I wonder, he's so Ibiid' 
 To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers: 
 To 11)' the boar, before the boar pursues. 
 Were to incense the boar to (bllow us. 
 And iiiMl.e iiiii>uit, where he did mean no chase. 
 Go, liid thy master rise and come to me; 
 And we will bolh together to the Tower, 
 Where he shall see, the boart^ will use us kindly. 
 
 Mess. 1 'II go, my lord, and tell him what you sa v. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cafe. Many good morrows to my noble lord! 
 
 Hu.tt. Good morrow, Catesby; you arc early 
 stirring; 
 What new.s, what news, in this our tottering state 1 
 
 ('<;/(■. It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord; 
 And, 1 believe, will never stand upriglil. 
 Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 
 ■ .Spiiinl.'. • t:x:mi|>li-. •Wf.ik. 
 
 ' i. e. tilostor, who li;ul a boar for his m-uis. 
 
 Hast. How! wear the garland 1 dost thou mean 
 the crown ? 
 
 Cate. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Hast. I'll have this crown of mine cut from my 
 shoulders. 
 Before I'll see the crown so foul misplaced. 
 But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it ! 
 
 Cate. Ay, on my life; and hopes to tind you for- 
 ward 
 Upon his party, for the gain thereof; 
 And thereupon, he sends j-ou this good news, — 
 That, this same very day, your enemies, 
 The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. 
 
 Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, 
 Because they have been still my adversaries: 
 IJ-ut, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side. 
 To bar my master's heirs in true descent, 
 God knows, I will not do it, to the death. 
 
 Cate. God keep your lordship in that gracious 
 mind ! 
 
 Haat. But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month 
 hence. 
 That they, who brought me in my master's hate, 
 1 live to look upon their tragedy. 
 Weil, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, 
 I'll send some jiacking, that yet think not on't. 
 
 Cate. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, 
 When men arc uiipre]>ar'd, and look not for it. 
 
 Hast. monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls itout 
 With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do 
 With some men else, wlio think themselves as safe 
 As thou, and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear 
 To iirinccly Richard, and to Buckingham. 
 
 Cate. The princes both make high account of 
 you,— 
 For they account his head upon the bridge. [Aside. 
 
 Haet. I know, they do ; and 1 have welldeserv'd it ! 
 Enter Stanley. 
 Come on, come on, where is your boar-spear, raan"! 
 Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided] 
 
 Stan. My lord, good morrow; and good morrow, 
 Catesby : — 
 You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,' 
 I do not like these several councils, I. 
 
 Hast. My lord, I hold my lite as dear as yours; 
 And never, in my life, 1 do protest. 
 Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: 
 Think > ou, but tliat I know our state secure, 
 I would be so triumphant as I am '! 
 
 Stan. The lords at Pomlrct, when they rode from 
 London, 
 Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sure, 
 And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust; 
 But yet, you see^ how soon the day o'cr-cast. 
 This sudden stao of rancor I misdoubt; 
 Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward ! 
 What, shall we toward the Tower ! the day is spent. 
 
 Hoit. Come, come, have with you. — Wot- you 
 what, my lord ! 
 To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded. 
 
 Sttm. They for their truth, might better wear their 
 heads. 
 Than some, that haveaccus'd them, wear their hats. 
 But come, my lord, let's away. 
 
 Enter a Pursuivant. 
 
 Hast. Go on belbre.I'll talk with this good fellow. 
 [Exeunt St.i.nlev and Catesby. 
 How now, sirrah, how goes the world with thcel 
 
 Purs. The belter that your lordship please to ask. 
 
 Hast. 1 tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now, 
 Than when thou met'st me last where now we meet: 
 Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, 
 By (he suggestion of the queen's allies; 
 But now I tell thee, (keeji it to thyseli;) 
 This day those enemies are put to death, 
 And 1 ill better state than e'er I was. 
 
 j^urs. God hold it, to your lienor's good content! 
 
 Jla-st. Gramercy, fellow; There drink that lot 
 nre. [Ttirowing him Am Parse. 
 
 Furs. I thank your honor. [Exit Pursuivant, 
 
 Enter a Priest. 
 Pr. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your 
 
 honor. 
 Hast. I thank thee, good sir John, with all my 
 heart. 
 I am in jour debt for your last exercise ; 
 Come the next Sabbalh, and 1 will conlent you. 
 1 Cross. 8 Kuow 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 4G5 
 
 Enler Boceingham. 
 Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord cliamher- 
 lain ] 
 Your friends at Pomfrct, they do need the priest ; 
 Your honor iiath no shriving^' vvovlf in liand. 
 
 liiisl. 'Good I'aitli, and wlien I nut this holy man, 
 Tlie men you talk of came into my mind. 
 What, go you toward tile Tower ? 
 
 Back: 1 ilo, my lord ; but long I cannot stay there : 
 I shiill return before your lordsJiip thejice. 
 Jidft. >;ay, like enough, for 1 slay dinner there. 
 Buck. And supi^er too, although tliou know'st it 
 not. [Asiik. 
 
 Come, will you go? 
 Hu.:t. I'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— Pomfret. B(f(/re the Ca.ille. 
 Enltr Katcliff, witk a Guarit, cmducfing Riveks, 
 (iiiEY, and Vauuuan, Io Execution. 
 Rat. Come, bring forth the prisoners. 
 Kiv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this,— 
 To-day, shalt thou behold a subject die, 
 i'or triilh, lor duly, and for loyalty. 
 
 Creij. (iod keep the prince from all the packofyou! 
 A knot >ou are of damned blood-suckers. 
 
 I'migh. Vou live, that shall cry woe for this here- 
 after. 
 Rat. Despatch; the limit of your lives is out. 
 Riv. O pomfrct. Pomfret I O thou bloody prison, 
 p'atal and ominous to noble peers! 
 Within the guilty closure of thy walls, 
 Richard tlie Second here was iiack'd to death: 
 And, lor more slander to thy dismal scat. 
 We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. 
 Grei/. Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our 
 heads. 
 When she cxclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, 
 For siaiiding by vvhen Richard stabb'd her son. 
 Riv. Then curs'd she Hastings, curs'd she Buck- 
 ingham, 
 Then curs'd she Richard : — 0, reincmber, God, 
 To hear her prayers for them, as now lor us ! 
 And lor my sister, and her princely sons, — 
 Be salislied, dear God, with our true bloods. 
 Which, as thou know st, unjustly must be spilt ! 
 Rut. Make haste, the hour of death is expiate.! 
 Rii: Come, Grey,— come, Vaughan,— let us here 
 embrace ; 
 Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 1\'.— London. A Room in tlie Tower. 
 BLTKixuiiAJt, Stanley, Hastings, t/ie Bishop of 
 Ely, Catesby, Lovel, and ottiers, sitting at a 
 Table: Officers cf tlie Council attending. 
 Hu.st. Now. noble peers, the cause why we are met 
 Is — to determine of the coronation : 
 In God's name speak, wlien is the royal day? 
 Buck. Are all things ready tor that royal time % 
 titan. They are : and wants but nomination. 
 Ely. To-morrow, then, I judge a liapjiy day. 
 Buck. Who knows the lord protector's mind 
 herein ] 
 Who is most inward- with the noble duke ? 
 Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest know 
 
 his mind. 
 Buck. We know each other's faces; for our 
 hearts, — 
 Ho knows no more of mine, than I of yours; 
 Nor I, of his, my lord, than you of mine: — 
 Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 
 
 liust. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well ; 
 But, for his purpose in the coronation, 
 I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd 
 His gracious pleasure any way therein: 
 But you, my noble lord, may name Ihe time; 
 And III the duke's behalf I'll give my voice. 
 Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. 
 Enter Gloster. 
 Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke'himself. 
 G/(;. My noble lords and cousins, all, good morrow ; 
 I have been long a sleeper; but, I trust. 
 My absence doth neglect no great design, 
 W bifb liy my presence might have been concluded. 
 Buck. Had you not come uponyourcuc, my lord, 
 William lord Hastings had pronounced your part, — 
 1 mean, your voice, — for crowning of the king. 
 Glo. Than my lord Hastings, no man might be 
 
 b<ilder ; 
 • Confession. i Expiatod. completed, a latimate. 
 
 30 
 
 His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. — 
 My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, 
 I saw good strawberries in your garden there; 
 I do beseech you, send lor .s'ome ot them. 
 
 Ely. Marry,and will, my lord, with all my heart. 
 
 [Exit Ely. 
 
 Glo. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. 
 [Takes tiini aside. 
 Cateshy hath sounded Hastings in our business ; 
 And finds the testy genlleman so hot. 
 That he will lose his head, ere give consent. 
 His master's child, as wor.-hiiifully he terms it. 
 Shall lose the royalty of Engl.uid's throne. 
 
 JJucfc. Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll go with you. 
 [Exeunt Glostek and BlcKiNGiiAit. 
 
 SVnn.Wchavenot yet setdowii this dayof triumph. 
 To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden; 
 For I m}'self am not so well provided. 
 As else 1 would be were the day prolong'd. 
 Re-enter Bishop of Ely. 
 
 Ely. Where is my lord protector ! 1 have sent 
 For tiiese strawberries. 
 
 Jlast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this 
 morning : 
 There's some conceit^ or other likes him well. 
 When he doth bid good morrow with such spirit. 
 I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom, 
 Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he ; 
 For by his face straight shall ye know his heart. 
 
 S/an. What of Ins heart perceive you in his face, 
 By any likelihood he show'd to-day ! 
 
 Ha.ll. Many, Ihatwilh no man hcreheisoUchdcd; 
 For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. 
 Re-enter Gloster and Bi-ckixgiia.v. 
 
 Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve, 
 That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
 Of damned witcherall ; and that have jirevail'd 
 Upon my body with their hellish cliarms? 
 
 i/oi7. The lender love 1 bear your grace, my lord, 
 Makes me most forward in this noble presence 
 To doom the olienders : Whosoe'er they be, 
 I siiy, my lord, they have deserved death. 
 
 Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil, 
 Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm 
 Is, like a blasted sapling, withcr'd up : 
 And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch. 
 Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, 
 That by their wilchcrart thus have marked me. 
 
 Hu^t. 1 1 they have done this deed, my noble lord, — 
 
 Glo. If! Ihou protector of this damned strumpet, 
 Talk St thou to me of ils !— Thou art a traitor :— 
 Olfwith his head:— now, by saint Paul I swear, 
 I will not dine until I .see the same. — 
 Lovel, and Catesby, look that it be done ; 
 The rest that love me, rise, and follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt Council, Willi Glostek and 
 
 BtCKlNGIIAM. 
 
 7/n.sy. Woe, woe. tor England ! not a wliit for me; 
 For I, too fond, might have prevented this : 
 Stanley did dream, the boar did rase his helm; 
 But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to ily. 
 Three times to-day my Ibol-cloth horse did stumblnj 
 And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, 
 As Uiath to bear me Io the slaughter-house. 
 O, now I want the priest that spake to me : 
 1 now repent I told the pursuivant. 
 As too triumphing, how mine enemies 
 To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butchcr'd, 
 And I myself secure in grace and lavor. 
 O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
 Is lighted on ]>oor Hastings' wretched head. 
 
 Cute. Despatch, my lord, the duke would be at 
 dinner; 
 Make a short shrill, he longs to see j-our head. 
 
 Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men. 
 Which we more hunt lor than the grace of God ! 
 Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks. 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; 
 Readj-, with every nod, to tumble down 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deej). 
 
 Loa. Come, come, despatch; 'tis bootless to ex- 
 claim. 
 
 Hast. O, bloody Richard !— miserable England! 
 I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee. 
 That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.— 
 Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head , 
 They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 ' Thought. 
 
466 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OP 
 
 Act III. 
 
 SCENE v.— The Tower JValls. 
 
 Eniir Gloster, and Buckisgham, in rusty Armor, 
 
 marvellous rll-fuvur'd. 
 
 do. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change 
 thv color ] 
 Murder thy breath in middle of a word, — 
 And tticn again begin, and slop again. 
 As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror? 
 
 Buek. Tut, I can countcrleit the deep tragedian ; 
 .Speak, and look back, and pry on every side, 
 Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, 
 Intending-' deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
 Are at my service, like enforced smiles ; 
 And both are ready in their offices, 
 At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
 Bill what, is Catesby gone 1 
 
 (Jlij. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. 
 
 Enter tlie Lord Mayor and Catesby. 
 Buck. Let me alone to entertain him.— Lord 
 
 mayor, 
 
 niv. Look to the draw-bridge there. 
 
 Buclc. Hark, hark! a drum. 
 
 6'to. Catesby, o'erlook the walls. 
 
 Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent for 
 
 you, 
 
 Clii. Look back defend thee, here are enemies. 
 Buck. God and our innocence defend and guard 
 
 us! 
 
 £7itcr LoTEL and Ratcliff, with Hastings's 
 
 JJead. 
 Glo. Be patient, they are friends; Ratcliff, and 
 
 Lovel. 
 Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, 
 The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. 
 
 Glo. So dear 1 lov'd the man, that I must weep. 
 I took him for the plainest harmless't creature, 
 That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ; 
 Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded 
 The history of all her secret thoughts : 
 So smnotli he daub'd his vice with show of virtue. 
 That, his apparent open guilt omitted, — 
 1 mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, — 
 Ho liv'd from all attainder of suspect. 
 Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd 
 traitor 
 That ever liv'd.— Look you, my lord mayor, 
 Would you imagine, or almost believe, 
 ( Were't not, that by great preservation 
 We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor 
 This day had plotted m the council-house 
 To murder me, and my good lord of Gloster 1 
 May. What ! had he so ! 
 
 tih). What! think you we are Turks, or infidels! 
 Or that we would, against the tbrm of law, 
 Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death ; 
 But that the extreme peril of the case. 
 The peace of England, and our persons' safety, 
 Enforced us to this execution ? 
 
 lSi((tj. Now, fair befall you ! he deserv'd his death; 
 And your good graces both have well proceeded, 
 To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
 I never look'd for better at his hands. 
 Alter he once fell in with mistress Shore. 
 
 Buck. Yet had we not determin'd he should die, 
 Until your lordship came to see his end ; 
 Which now the loving haste of these our friends. 
 Somewhat against our meaning, hath prevented: 
 Because, my lord, we would have had you heard 
 The traitor speak, and timorously conless 
 The manner and the purpose of his treasons; 
 That you might well have signirted the same 
 Unto the citizens, who, haply, may 
 Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death. 
 May. But, my good lord, your grace's word shall 
 serve. 
 As wrll as I had seen, and heard him speak : 
 And do not doubt, right noble princes both, 
 lint I'll acquaint our duteous citizens 
 With all your just proceedings in this case. 
 
 Gin. And to thatciid we wish'd your lordship here, 
 To avoid the censures of the carping world. 
 
 Buck. But since you came too late of our intent. 
 Yet witness what you hear we did intend ; 
 And so, my good lord mayor, we bid lirrewell. 
 
 [ E.cil Lord Mayor. 
 Glo. Go after, aflcr, cousin Buckingham. 
 The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post: — 
 « rrotunJing. 
 
 There, at your meetest vantage of the time, 
 
 Infer the bastardy of Edward's children : 
 
 Tell tliem, how Edward put to death a citizen, 
 
 Only for saying — he would make his son 
 
 Ileir to the crown ; meaning indeed his house, 
 
 Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so. 
 
 Moreover, urge his hateful luxury. 
 
 And bestial appetite in change of lust ; 
 
 Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, 
 
 wives. 
 Even where his raging eye, or savage heart. 
 Without control, listed to make his prey. 
 Nay, for a need, thus far come near my pcrsoi :— 
 Tcil them, when that my mother went with child 
 Of that insatiate Edward, noble Y'ork, 
 My princely father, then had wars in France ; 
 And, by iust computation of the time, 
 Kound, that the issue was not his begot ; 
 Which well appeared in his lineaments. 
 Being nothing like the noble duke my father: 
 Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere liir oil"; 
 Because, my lord, you know, my mother lives. 
 
 Buck. Tioabl not, my lord ; I'll play the orator, 
 As if the golden fee, lor which I plead. 
 Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. 
 
 Glo. H" you thrive well, bring them toBaynard's 
 castle ; 
 Where you shall find me well accompanied. 
 With reverend lathers, and well-learned bishops. 
 
 Buck. I go; and, towards three or linir o'clock. 
 Look lor the news that the Guildhall aliiirds. 
 
 \_£xit BUCKINUUAM. 
 
 Glo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to doctor Shaw, — 
 Go thou [ To Cat.] to friar Pcnker ;— bid them both 
 Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's castle. 
 
 \_E.veunt Lovel and Catesbt. 
 Now will I in, to take some privy order 
 To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; 
 And to give notice, that no manner of ]jerson 
 Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. [Exit. 
 
 SCESEW.— A Street. 
 Enter a Scrivener. 
 Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good lord 
 Hastings ; 
 Which in a set hand fairly is cngross'd, 
 That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. 
 And mark how well the sequel hangs together: — 
 Eleven hours I have spent to write it over. 
 For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me ; 
 The precedent' was full as long a doing : 
 And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, 
 Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty. 
 Here's a good world the while !— Whois so gross, 
 That cannot see this palpable device ? 
 Yet who so bold, but says — he sees il not? 
 Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought. 
 When such bad dealing must be seen in thought. 
 
 [ExU. 
 
 SCENE \'U.— Court of Baynard's Castle. 
 
 Enter Gloster atid Bi"ckin(;iiam, meeting. 
 
 Glo. How now, how now? what say the citizens'* 
 
 Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, 
 The citizens are mum, say not a word. 
 
 Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's chil- 
 dren ? 
 
 Buck. I did ; with his contnlct with lady Lucy, 
 And his contnlct by deputy in France : 
 The insatiate greediness of his desires. 
 And his enforcement of the city wives; 
 His tyranny lor trifies ; his own bastardy, — 
 As being got, your fatlier then in France; 
 And his resemblance, being not like the duke. 
 Withal, I did inter your lineaments, — 
 Being the right idea of your father. 
 Both in your form and nobleness of mind: 
 Laid open all your victories in Scotland, 
 Y'our discipline in war, wisdom in peace, 
 ■^'our bounty, virtue, fair humility ; 
 Indeed, lelt nothing, lilting for your purpose, 
 Untoueh'd, or slightly handled, in discourse. 
 And, when my oratory grew to an end, 
 1 bade them, that did love their country's good. 
 Cry — God save mc/iard, England's ruy'al king.' 
 
 Glo. And did they so? 
 
 Buck. No, so God help me, they spoke not a word; 
 But like dumb statues, or breathless stones, 
 » Origiual ilnift. 
 
Scene VII. 
 
 KING EICHARD III. 
 
 467 
 
 Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale. 
 Which when I saw I roprtiiendcd them; 
 Andask'd the may or. wliat meant this wilfuJ silence; 
 Ilis answer was, — the people were not us'd 
 To be sjwkc lo, bnt by the recorder. 
 Then lie was ui^^od to tell my talc again: 
 7'hus saifh (he duke, iUus haik the duke inferred; 
 I3ut noUnn^j; spoke in warrant IVom iiimseltl 
 When he Jiad done, some Ibllowers of mine own, 
 At lower end o' the hail, hurl'd up their caps. 
 And some ten voicesoried, God .tare ki/ig HicJiardJ 
 And Diiis I took the vantage of tliose lew, — 
 Thanks, genile citizeJiSy and friends, quoth I ; 
 7'fii.s ^(neral appluuse, and ckeei^'ul akmit, 
 Ar^uf.s i.our WLsdom, and your love to Hichiird: 
 And evi-n hero brake otlandcame awaj'. 
 
 Glo. Wiiat tongueless biocks were they ! Would 
 they not speak \ 
 Will not tJje mayor liien, and his brethren. come? 
 
 Buck. The nia^or is here at hand; intend'* some 
 fear; 
 Be not 2'ou spoke xvith, but by mighty suit: 
 And look you, get a prayer-book in your hand. 
 And sLiind [jelween two churcJimcii. go<jd my lord; 
 For on that ground I'll make a holy descant: 
 And be not easily won to our requests; 
 I'iay tile maid's part, still answer na^', and take it. 
 
 Glo. ] go ; and if you ijlead as well lor tiieni, 
 As I can s;ty na^' to tJiee tor niiself. 
 No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue. 
 
 Buek. Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor 
 knocks. {KxU liLOSTEi;. 
 
 Elder tke Lord Alayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. 
 Welcome, my lord; I dance attendance here; 
 1 thinJi Uie duke will not be spoke witiial. — 
 
 Enter^fmm tke Castle, Catesby. 
 Now, Catesby, what sajs your lord io my requcstl 
 
 Oite. He ilolh eiJtieat your grace, my iioble lord, 
 To vLsit him to-morri>w, or nejtt day: 
 He is within witJi two rigJit reverend lathers, 
 Divinely hent tn meditation; 
 And in no ■worldly smt would he be mov'd, 
 To draw him from his holy exercise- 
 
 2fiR7»..Ilcturn, good Catesby, to thegraciousduke; 
 Tell him, myself, tJic mayor, and aldermen, 
 In deep designs, in matter of great momenty 
 No less imjx>rii»g than our general good, 
 Are come Lo have fmuic ooniercnce witJi bis grace. 
 
 Cute. I'll sigmJy so much mito himsu-aight. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Buck* Ah, ha, my lord, Uiis prince is not an 
 Edward i 
 He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, 
 Jiut on his knees at meditation; 
 Not dallvijig willi a brac^ of courtezans, 
 JJut medilatJMg with two di:cp divines; 
 Not sleeping to engross" his idle bodv% 
 Jiut praying to enrich his watchful soul: 
 Happy were England, would this virtuous prince 
 Take on himself the sovereifinty tiiereof: 
 Uut, sure, I fear, we shall ne"er win him to it. 
 
 Mwj. Marry, God detcnd, his grace should say 
 us na3' ! 
 
 Buck. I lear, he will; Here Catesb}' comes 
 again ;— 
 
 Re-enJer Catesby. 
 Now, Cates1)5', wJiat says Iiis grace ? 
 
 Cote. He wonderstowhat endjouhaveassembled 
 Such troops of citizens to come to him; 
 His grace not being warii'd thereof beiore. 
 He fears, my lord, you mean no go«Ml to him. 
 
 Buck. Stivry I am, my noble cousin should 
 Suspect me, fJiat I mean no good to him: 
 By heaven, we come to him in perh*cl love ; 
 And so once more ret4jrn and tell his grace. 
 
 [KxU Catesby. 
 When holy and devout religious men 
 Are at the'ir beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; 
 So sweet is zealous contemplation. 
 
 Enter Gloster, in a Galiery ahm-e, between two 
 Bishops- Catesby relurns. 
 May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two 
 
 clertcymen! 
 Bmk. Two props of virtue for a christian prince, 
 To stay him from die lall oi vanity: 
 And, see, a book of prajer 'u\ his hand; 
 
 « rietend. i fatten. 
 
 True ornaments to know a holy man. — 
 Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, 
 Lend lavorable ear to our requests; 
 And pardon us the interruption 
 Of thy devotion, and nght-christian zeal. 
 
 Glo. My lord. Uiere needs no sucii apology ; 
 r rather do lieseech you j)ardon me, 
 Who. earnest in the service of my God, 
 Neglect the visitation of my friends 
 Uut, leaving liiis, what is your graces pleasure? 
 
 Bu-ck. Kven that, I hope, wiiich pleaseUi God 
 above, 
 And all gt>od men of this ungoverit'd isle. 
 
 G/jK I do sus^x-ct I have done some otience. 
 That seems disgracious in the city's eye; 
 And iiiat you come to reprehend my ignorance. 
 
 Buck. You have, m3' lord; Would U might please 
 your grace, 
 On our entreaties to amend vour laultl 
 
 G/o. Else wherefore breathe J In a christian laiid? 
 
 Buck. Know, then, it is jour lault, that 3 ou resign 
 The supreme seat, tiie liironc majestical. 
 The sceptred otlice of youi ancestors, 
 your state of ibrtune. and jour due of birth, 
 The lineal glory of your royal house, 
 To the corruption ot'a blemish 'd stock: 
 Whilst, in Uie mildness of your sleepy thoughts, 
 (Which here we waken to our country's good,) 
 The noble isle doiJi want licr proper limbs; 
 Her lace deliiced with scars of inlamy, 
 Her royal stock j^raft with ignoble plants, 
 And almost shoulder'd'^ in the swalloiving gulf 
 Of dark Ji>rgettuh)ess and deep oblivion. 
 Which to recure,y we Jieartily solicit 
 Vour gracious selito take on you the charge 
 And kingly government of tijTs your land: 
 Not as pro'teclor, steward, sut»slitute, 
 Or lowly (actor Jiiranother\s gain: 
 iJut as sutvessirely, Irom biood to blood, 
 Your right of birth. 3 our empery,' your ovm^ 
 for this, consorl<^d with tiie citizen's, 
 Vour verv worshipful and loving J'riciids, 
 And by their vehement instigaUon, 
 In this just suit come I to move your grace, 
 
 GUj. I cannot tell, if to depart id silence, 
 Or bitterly to speak in iour reproof, 
 Be.st liUeth my degree, or your condition: 
 If. not to ansxver, — you might liaply think, 
 Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
 To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty. 
 Which loudly you would here impose'oa me; 
 Hto reprove you lor this suit of yours. 
 So seasoned with your taitJiful love to me, 
 Then, on tJie otiier side, I check'd my friends. 
 I'herefore — to speak, and to avoid the first ; 
 And, then in speaking, not to incur the last, — 
 Definitely' thus I answer you. 
 Y'our love deserves my thanks; but my desert 
 Unmeri table, shuos yonriigh request. 
 First, if all obstacles" w-ere cut away-, 
 And that my path were even to the crown. 
 As the ri])e revenue and due of birtii; 
 Y'et so mucii is my poverty of spirit. 
 So mighty, and so many my delects. 
 That I would rather hide inc from my greaitncss, — 
 Being a bark to brook no niigJity sea, — 
 Than in my greatness covet to be hid, 
 And in the vapor of my glory smotJier'd. 
 But. God be thank'd, there is no need of me; 
 (And much I need- to help j'ou, if need were;) 
 The royal tree hath Iclt us royal fruit. 
 Which, meilow'd by the stealing hours of time, 
 Will well become flie seat of majesty, 
 And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
 On him I lay what you would lay on me. 
 The right and Ibrtune of his happy stars. — 
 Which. God defend, that I should wring from him! 
 
 Bu-ck. iily lord, this argues conscience in your 
 grace ; 
 But the resj)^^ts thereof arc nice^aiid trivial. 
 All circumstances well considered. 
 You say, that Edward is your brother's son; 
 So say we too, but not by Kdw.ird's wife: 
 For first he was contract to lady Lucy, 
 Y'our mother lives a witness to his vow; 
 And atterwards by substitute betroth'd 
 To Bona, sister to* the king of France. 
 These both put by, a poor petitioner, 
 
 c Thrnst iuto. • Ke^orer. ■ Kinpirf, 
 
 * Wautability. • Minute. 
 
468 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH OF 
 
 Act. IV. 
 
 A carc-craz'd mother to a many sons, 
 A lieauty-waning and distres.sDd widow, 
 Even m the allcinoon of tier best day.s, 
 JMade prize and purchase of his wanton eye. 
 Seduced the pitch and heightofall his thoughts 
 To base declension and loath'd bigamy : 
 l!y lier. in Jiis unlawful bed, he got 
 Tliis Edward, whom our manners call — the prince. 
 More bitterly could I expostulate. 
 Save that, for reverence to some alive, 
 1 give a sparing limit to my tongue ; 
 Tlien, good my lord, take to your royal self 
 This proffer'd benetit oldignily: 
 If not to bless us and the land withal. 
 Yet to draw forth your nolde ancestry 
 From the c« rruption of abusing time. 
 Unto a lineal true-<lerived course. 
 ihiy. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat 
 
 you. 
 Buck. Re (use not, mighty lord, this proffer d 
 
 iove. 
 Cafe. O make them joyful, grant their lawful 
 
 suit. 
 Glo. Alas, why would you heap those cares on 
 me ] 
 I am unfit for stale and majesty:— 
 1 do beseech you, take it not amiss; 
 1 cannot, nor I will not, yield to yon. 
 
 Buck. If you refuse it,— as in love and zeal. 
 Loath to depose Ihc child, your brother's son ; 
 As well we know your tenderness of heart. 
 And gentle, kind, cllcminate remorse, 
 Which we have noted in you to your kindred, 
 And equally, indeed, to all estates, — 
 Yet know, whc'r you accept our suit or no, 
 Your brother's son shall never reign our king; 
 Hut we will plant some other in your throne. 
 To the disgrace and downlall of your house. 
 
 And, in this resolution here we leave you ; 
 Come, citizens, we wjU entreat no more. 
 
 lExeuiit Bl'CKJNGHam iind Citizens. 
 
 Ca/e. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their 
 suit; 
 If you deny them, all the land will rue it. 
 
 (J!o. Will you enlbrcc me to a world of cares] 
 Well, call them again ; I am not made of stone. 
 But penetrable to your kind entreaties, [Ex. Cate. 
 Albeit against my conscience and my soul. — 
 
 Re-enter Buckingham and the rest. 
 Cousin of Buckingham, — and sage, grave men, — 
 Since you will buckle Ibrtune on my back, 
 To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no, 
 I must have patience to endure the load: 
 But if black scandal, or foul-tiiced reproach, 
 Attend the sequel of your imposition. 
 Your mere enl()rcement shall acquittance me 
 From all the impure blots and stains thereof: 
 For God he knows, and you may partly see. 
 How lar I am from the desire of this. 
 May. God bless your grace! we see it, and will 
 
 say it. 
 Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. 
 Buck. Then 1 salute yon with this royal title. — 
 Long live king Richard, England's worthy king ! 
 Alt. Amen. 
 Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be 
 
 crown'd ? 
 Cto. Even when you please, since you will have 
 
 it so. 
 Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your grace. 
 And so, most joyfully we take our leave. 
 Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again.^ 
 
 [ Tu Mf Bishops. 
 Farewell, good cousin ; — farewell, gentle friends. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.—Bijbre ttie Tower. 
 Enter, on one side. Queen Elizaueth, Duchess of 
 York, and MAi'.yuis of Dorset: on lite other, 
 Anne, Ducliess nfGlosier, teci'lins Lady Marga- 
 
 IlET I'LASTAGEXET, CLARENCe's IJOUng DaUg/ltcT. 
 
 Bucli. Who meets us here — my niece Plantagenet 
 Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster I 
 Now, for my lilc. she's wandering to the Tower, 
 On pure heart's love to greet the tender prince- 
 Daughter, well met. 
 
 Anne. God give your graces both 
 
 A happy and a joyful time of day ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither 
 away ] * 
 
 Anjie. No lurther than the Tower; and, as I guess, 
 ITpon the like devotion as yourselves. 
 To gratulate the gentle princes there. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter ail to- 
 gether : 
 
 Enter Brakenburt. 
 And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. — 
 blaster Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, 
 How doth the prince, and my young son of York? 
 
 Brak. Right well, dear madam : liy your patience, 
 1 may not sutler you to visit them; 
 Tlie king hath strictly charged tlie contrary. 
 
 Q. Eliz. The king! who's that ! 
 
 Brak. I mean the lord protector. 
 
 Q. Etiz. The Lord protect him from that kingly 
 tillp 
 Hath ne set ooiinds between their love, and me? 
 i :im their mother, who shall bar me from them ] 
 
 J)ucti. I am their father's mother, 1 w ill see tlicm. 
 
 Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their 
 mother : 
 Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, 
 And take thy otlice from thee, on thy peril. 
 
 Brak. No. madam, no, I may not leave it so; 
 1 am bound by oath, and therefore ^uirdon me. 
 
 [ExU BuAKENBljTtY. 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour 
 hence, 
 And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, 
 
 And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. 
 Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, 
 
 [To t/ie Duchess of Glostl'r. 
 I Rich 
 
 Tiiere to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder ! 
 That my pent heart ma-y have some scope to beat, 
 Or else I swoon with (his dead-killing news. 
 
 Anne- Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! 
 
 Dor. Be ot good cheer: Mother, how fares your 
 grace ? 
 
 Q.Eliz. Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone. 
 Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ; 
 Thy mother's name is ominous to children : 
 If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas. 
 And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. 
 Go, hie thee, hie thee, from tliis slaughter-house. 
 Lest thou increase the number of the dead; 
 And make me die the thrall of Margarei's curse,— 
 Nor wife, mother, nor England's counted queen. 
 
 atun. Full of wise care is this yout counsel, 
 madam: — 
 Take all the swift advantage of the hours; 
 You sliall have letters firom me to my son 
 In your behalf, to meet you on the way: 
 Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. 
 
 Duett. ill-dispersing wind of liiisery!— 
 O my accursed womb, the bed of death; 
 A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world. 
 Whose unavoided eye is murderous! 
 
 Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was 
 sent. 
 
 Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.— 
 O, would to God that the inclusive verge 
 Of golden metal, that must round my brow. 
 Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ! 
 Anointed let me be with deadly venom ; 
 And die. ere men can say — God save the queen! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; 
 To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm. 
 
 Anne. No ! why ?— When he, that is my husband 
 now. 
 Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse; 
 When scarce the blood was well-washed from Ins 
 
 hands. 
 Which issued from my other angel husband, _ 
 And that dead saint vviiich then 1 weeping follow d, 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 4G9 
 
 O, when. I .«ay, I look'd on Richard's face, 
 
 This was my wish.— i/f tliDU. quoth 1, ciccurs'd, 
 
 For making me so i/oung, w old a widow.' 
 
 And, when thou ived's/, let mrrow haunt thy bed; 
 
 Ani be tliii wife [ij'ony be so mad) 
 
 More mvsirnlilc by the life vfthee. 
 
 Than tliou huM made me by my dear lord s death! 
 
 Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again. 
 
 Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 
 
 Grossly grew captive to liis honey words. 
 
 And prov'd the suhjcct olinine own soul's curse: 
 
 Which ever since hath lield mine eyes from rest; 
 
 For never yet one hour in his bed 
 
 Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep. 
 
 But witJi his timorous dreams was still awak d. 
 
 Besides, he liates me (ijr my lather Warwick; 
 
 And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. 
 
 Q. Eti^. Poor heart, adieu ; I pity thy complam- 
 
 ins. 
 Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for 
 
 yours. 
 Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! 
 Ajine. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave 
 
 ofit! 
 Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune 
 guide thee !— {To Dorset. 
 
 Go thou to Ricliard, and good angels tend thee !— 
 
 [To ANNE. 
 Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess 
 thee I— [To Q. Elizabeth. 
 
 I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with mc ! 
 Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen. 
 And each hour's joy wrcek'd with a week of teen.< 
 Q. KHz. Slay yet; look back, with me, unto the 
 Tower.— 
 Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes. 
 Whom envy halli iiiimur'd within your walls! 
 Rough cradle liir such little iirelly ones ! 
 Rude ragged nurse ! old sullen play-(c;llow 
 For tender princes, use my babies well ! 
 So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 SCENE II.— .4 Room of Slate in the Palace. 
 ' Flmimh tf Trumpets. Richard, as King, upon 
 his Throne; Ui,X'Kin(iiiam, Catesby, a Page, am/ 
 others. 
 
 K. Rich- Stand all apart.— Cousin of Bucking- 
 ham, 
 
 J?ucfr. My gracious sovereign. 
 K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy 
 advice. 
 And thy assistance, is king Richard seated : — 
 But shall we wear these glories (or a day ! 
 Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ] 
 Buclx. Still live they, and for ever let them last ! 
 A'. Rich. Ah. Buckingham, now do 1 play the 
 touch," 
 To try if thou be current gold, indeed; 
 Young Edward lives ;— Think now what I would 
 speak. 
 Buck. Say on, my loving lord. 
 A'. Rich. Why, Buckinghaui, I saj', I would be 
 
 king. 
 Buck. Why, so you arc, my thricc-renowncd liege. 
 K.Rich. Ha! a"in I king! 'Tis so: but Edward 
 
 lives. 
 Buck. True, noble prince. 
 
 A'. Rich. O bitter consequence. 
 
 That Edward still should live, — true, noble prince! — 
 Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull: 
 Shall I be plain ! I wish the bastards dead ; 
 And I would have it suddenly perform'd. 
 What say'st thou now ! s]ieaK suddenly, be brief. 
 Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. 
 A'. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness 
 freezes : 
 Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die 1 
 Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, 
 dear lord. 
 Before I positively speak in this: 
 1 will resolve your grace immediately. 
 
 [E.nt BrcKINGHAM. 
 Cate^ The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip. 
 
 [Aside. 
 K. Rich. I will converse with iron-wilted tools, 
 [Descen'lsfrotn his Throne. 
 And unrespective^ boys; none are for me, 
 Tliat look into me with considerate eyes ; 
 « Sorrow. » Touchstoue. * Inconsiderate. 
 
 High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. 
 
 Boy, 
 
 Page. My lord. 
 •A'. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting 
 
 gold 
 Would tempt unto a close exploit' of death ! 
 
 Page. I know a discontented gentleman. 
 Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: 
 Gold were as good as twenty orators, 
 And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. 
 K. Rich. What is his name I 
 Page. His name, my lord, is — Tyrrel. 
 
 K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him 
 hither, boy. [Exit Page. 
 
 The deep-revolving wittyS Buckingham 
 No more s/iall be liie neighbor to my counsels: 
 Hath he so long held out wilh mc u'ntir'd. 
 And stops he now lor breath I — well, be it so. — 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 How now, lord Stanley] what's the news'? 
 
 Stan. Know, my loving lord, 
 
 Tlie marquis Dorset, as I hear, is lied 
 To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. 
 
 K.Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumor it abroad, 
 That Anne, my wile, is very grievous sick; 
 1 Will lake order lor her keeping close. 
 Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman. 
 Whom 1 will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: 
 The bo>' is (tiolish, and 1 lear not him. — 
 Look, how Ihou dream'st! — I say again, give out, 
 That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die: 
 About it; lor it stands me much upon,9 
 To stop ail hopes, whose growth may damage me. — 
 
 {Exit Catesby. 
 I must be married to my brotlier's daughter, 
 Or else my kingdtun stands on brittle glass: 
 Murder her brothers, and then marry her! 
 L'ncert^ain way of gam! But I am in 
 So lar in bloo<l. that sin w ill pluck on sin. 
 Tear-falling pity dwells not in tliis eje. — 
 
 Rc-enler Page, with Tyrrel. 
 Is thy name TjTrel ! 
 
 Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sub- 
 ject, 
 K. Rich. Art thou, indeed ! 
 
 Tyr. Prove ine, my gracious lord. 
 
 A. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend ot 
 
 mine ! 
 Tyr. please you; but I had rather kill two ene- 
 mies. 
 A'. /iicA. Why, then thou hast it; two deepencmics! 
 Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, 
 Are they that 1 would have thee deal' upon; 
 Tyrrel,! mean those bastards in the Tower. 
 
 Tyr. Let mc have open means to come to them. 
 And soon I'll rid >ou from the fear of them. 
 K. Rich. Thou s'ing'st sweet music. Hark, come 
 hither, Tyrrel ; 
 Go, by this token: — Rise, and lend thine car: 
 
 [ IVhispers. 
 There is no more but so: — Say, it is done. 
 And I will love thee, and preter thee for it. 
 Tyr. I will despatch it straight. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Bltkingham. 
 Bttck. My lord, I have considered in my mind 
 The late demand that >ou did sound me in. 
 K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to 
 
 Richmond. 
 Buck. I hear the news, my lord. 
 K.Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son:— Well, 
 
 look to it. 
 Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by 
 promise. 
 For which your honor and your faith is pawn'd 
 The earldom of Hereford, and the movables. 
 Which you have promised I shall possess. 
 
 K.Rich. Stanley, look toyourwile; if she convey 
 Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. 
 Buck. What says your highness to my just re- 
 quest ! 
 A'. Rich. I do remember me,— Henry the sixth 
 Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, 
 When Richmond was a little peevish- boy. 
 
 A king I — perhaps 
 
 Buck. My lord, ■ 
 
 1 Secret act. b Cunning. 
 
 » It is of great consequence to my designs. 
 
 ' Act. » Foolish. 
 
470 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at 
 that time, 
 Have tnki me, I being by, that 1 should kiJ! him 1 
 
 Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom,"- 
 
 A'. Rich. Richmond ! — Wlien hist I was at fc^xetcr. 
 The mayor in courtesy show'd me tlie castle, 
 And call'd it — Rouge-Mont: at which name. I 
 
 started ; 
 Because a bard of Irehmd told me once, 
 I should not live long after I saw Kichniond. 
 
 Buck. My lord, 
 
 A'. Rich. Ay, what's o'clock ] 
 
 Buck. I am thus bold 
 
 To put your Krace in mind of what you pronn.s'dme. 
 
 A'. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock I 
 
 Buck. Upon the stroke 
 
 Often. 
 
 A. Rich. Well, let it strike. 
 
 Buck. Wiiy, let it strike 7 
 
 A". Rich. Because that, like a Jack,^ thou keep'st 
 the stroke 
 Betwixt thy be^t^ing and my meditation. 
 1 am not in the ^ivin^ vein to-day. 
 
 Buck. Why, then resolve me whe'r you will, 
 or no, 
 
 K.Rich.Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. 
 [Exeuitf Kisfj Richard and Train. 
 
 Buck. And is it thus ! repays he my deep service 
 With such contempt? made I him king for this] 
 O, let me think on HastJnjjs ; and be^^one 
 To Brecknock,! vvhile my tearful head is on. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— r/ifi same. 
 
 Enter Tyruel. 
 
 Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; 
 The most arch deed ot piteous massacre. 
 That ever yet this land was f^uilty of. 
 Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
 To do this piece of ruthless t)utchery. 
 Albeit they were Hesli'd villains, bloody do^s, 
 Mt'liin^ \vi[h tenderness and mild ci>Mipassioii, 
 Wi'i't like two cluldren, in tlieir death's sad story. 
 <) fh'is. ijuiitli Dif^hton, lai/ the gen/tt ha>>cs, — 
 77m;.v, //lus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another^ 
 IVithui th/ir atahuster innocent urnus: 
 Their lijis were four red roses im a stalky 
 Which in tlieir .summer beauty kiss'd each other, 
 A book ofjrratjei'.s on their pilloiu lay, 
 Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my 
 
 mindy 
 But, O, the devil — there the villain stopp'd ; 
 Wlicn Difi;hton thus told on, — loe smothered 
 The inofit repleni-stied sweet work (f naturey 
 Tkat,jr(nii the prime creutioti, ere'she framed. 
 Hence bulh are t;one with conscience and remorse, 
 They could not speak; and so 1 lell them both, 
 To bear tlicse tidings to the bloody king. 
 
 Enter King Richard. 
 And here he comes: — All health, my sovereign lord ! 
 
 K.Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news? 
 
 Tyr. If lohave done the thing you gave in charge 
 Beget your happiness, be iiappy then, 
 For it IS done. 
 
 A^ Rich. But didst thou see them dead 1 
 
 Tjfr. I did. my lord. 
 
 A"". Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel ? 
 
 Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried 
 them; 
 But where, to say the truth, I do not know. 
 
 A'. Rich.ComQ. \o me, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper. 
 When thou shalt tell the process of their death. 
 Mean time, but think how I may do tliee good, 
 And be inheritor of tliy desire. 
 Farewell, till then. 
 
 Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit. 
 
 A'. Rich. The son of Clarence liave 1 penn'd up 
 close; 
 Ilis daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; 
 The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom; 
 And Anne my wile hath bid the world good-night. 
 Now, j;.r I know tiie Bretagne- Richmond aims 
 At yauiii; Flizabeth, my brother's daughter, 
 And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, 
 To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. 
 
 3 A Jacl.- nf ike dovk-honse is an iQi;ige like those at St. 
 DuDstan's i-hurch iu Fleet street, aud then a common 
 appendage to clocks. 
 
 * His castle in Wales. 
 
 »Tliy cuautry iu which Richmond had taken refuge. 
 
 Enter CATEtiBY, 
 
 Cate. My lord, 
 
 A'. Rich. Good news, or bad, tiiat thou com'st in 
 
 so bluntly ! 
 Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton'^ is fied to 
 Richmond ; 
 And Buckingham, b-ickM with the hardy Welshmen, 
 Is in the held, and still his power increaseth. 
 K.Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more 
 near, 
 Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. 
 Come, — I have learn'd, that fearful commenting 
 Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; 
 Delay leads impotent and snail-pac€^ beggary: 
 Tlien hery expedition be my wing, 
 Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 
 Go, muster men : My counsel is my shield ; 
 We must he brief, when traitors brave the field, 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 SCENE lV,—Beff/re the Palace. 
 Enter Quekn Margaret. 
 Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, 
 And drop into the rotten mouth of death. 
 Here in these conhnes slily have I lurk'd. 
 To watch the waning of mine enemies. 
 A tiire induction am I witness to. 
 And will to France; hoping the consequence 
 Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. 
 Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! Who cornea 
 here I 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Drcurss of Vork. 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender 
 babes ! 
 My unblown dowers, new-appearing sweets ! 
 If yet your gentle souls tly in the air. 
 Arid be not lix'd in doom perpetual, 
 Hover about me with your airy wings. 
 And hear your mother's lamentation I 
 Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for 
 right 
 Hath dimm'd your mfant morn to aged night. 
 
 Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, 
 That my woe-wearied tongue is still and 'mute,— 
 Edward Plantagcnct, why art thou dead ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. 
 Edward for Edwa'rd pays a dying debt. 
 Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, tly from such gentle 
 lambs, 
 And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? 
 When didst Ihousleep.when such adeed wasdone? 
 Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet 
 
 son. 
 Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living 
 ghost, 
 Woe's scene, world's shame, gravels due, by life 
 
 usurp'd. 
 Brief abstract and record of tedious days. 
 Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, 
 
 [Sitting down. 
 Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood \ 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon atlbrd a 
 grave, 
 As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; 
 Then would I hide my bones, not rest (hem here ! 
 Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we ? 
 
 [Sifting dnwn by her, 
 ' be most 
 
 Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, 
 Give mine the benefit of seniory.'' 
 And let my griefs frown on the" upper hand. 
 Ifsorrow can admit society. 
 
 ^ [fitting down with them. 
 
 Tell o er your woes again by viewing mine: — 
 I had an Edward, till a Kichard kili'd him ; 
 I had a husband, till a Richard kili'd him : 
 Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kili'd him; 
 Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kili'd fiim. 
 
 Duch. I Jiad a Richard too, aud thou didst kill 
 him ; 
 I had a Rutland too. thou holp'st to kill him. 
 
 <^. A///r. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard 
 killM him. 
 From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
 A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: 
 That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, 
 To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood ; 
 That Ibul deliicer of God's handy-work ; 
 
 « Bishop of Ely. 1 Seniority. 
 
Scene IY. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 471 
 
 That axcelletit grand lyrant of the earth. 
 That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, 
 Thy worhb let loose to cliase us lo our graves. — 
 
 upright, just, and true-disposing God, 
 How do I thank tliee, that this eafnal cur 
 Preys on the issue of his mother's body. 
 
 And nialies her pew-fellow* with others' moan ! 
 
 Duck. 0, Harry's wile, tritimph not in my woes; 
 God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 
 
 Q. Mar. Bear willi me, I am hungry for revenge, 
 And now I cloy me with beholding it. 
 Thy Kdward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; 
 Thj other Kdward dead to quit my Edward ; 
 Young \ ork he is but boot," because bolh they 
 JIalch ni)t the high perfection of my loss. 
 Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward ; 
 And ilie beholders of this tragic i>lay. 
 The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, 
 Untimely smotherM in their dusky graves. 
 Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; 
 Only reserv'd their laclor to buy souls. 
 And send them thither : But at hand, at hand, 
 Ensues his piteous and uupitied end : 
 Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, 
 To have him suddenly coiivey'd from hence: — 
 Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, 
 Tliat I may live to say. The dog is dead ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time would 
 come. 
 That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
 Tliat bottled spider, that foul buuch-back'd toad. 
 
 Q. Mar. 1 call'd thee then, vain flourish of my 
 fortune ; 
 
 1 call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen ; 
 The presenlation of but what I was. 
 
 The flattering index of a direful pageant. 
 
 One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below : 
 
 A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ; 
 
 A dream of what thou wast, a garish' liag, 
 
 To be the aim of every dangerous shot; 
 
 A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 
 
 A queen in jest, only to lill the scene. 
 
 Where is thy husband now ! where be thy brothers? 
 
 U'liere be thy two sons ! wherein dost thou joy? 
 
 Who sues, and kneels, and says—God save the 
 
 queen \ 
 Where be the bending peers that tlatter'd thee? 
 Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee 1 
 Decline all this, and see what now thou art. 
 For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
 For joyful mother, one that wails the name ; 
 For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; 
 For queen, a very caililfcrown'd with care; 
 For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn 'd of me; 
 For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; 
 For one commanding all, oliey'd of none. 
 Thi's hath the course of justice wheel'd about, 
 And loll thee but a very prey to time ; 
 Having no more but thought of what thou wert, 
 To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
 Thou didst usurp my place ; and dost thou not 
 Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow! ^ 
 Now thy proud neck bears half my burden d yoke ; 
 From vvhieh even here I slip my wearied head, 
 And leave the burden of it all on thee. 
 Farewell. York's wife, — and queen of sad mis- 
 chance, — 
 These English woes shall make mesmile in France. 
 
 Q. Eliz. (J Ihou wollskill'd in curses, stay awhile. 
 And teach me how to curse mine enemies! 
 
 Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the 
 day; 
 Compare dead happiness with living woe ; 
 Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, 
 And lie that slew them, fouler than he is : 
 Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse; 
 Revolving this will teacli thee how to curse. 
 
 Q. KHz. My words arc dull, quicken them 
 with thine! 
 
 Q Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and 
 Iiierce like mine. [Exit Q. Margaret. 
 
 Duch. Why should calaniity be full of words ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Windy attornies'to their client woes, • 
 Airy suceeeders of intestate jojs. 
 Poor breathing orators of miseries! 
 Let them havS scope: Ihongh what they do impart 
 Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. 
 
 XJ«c/i. Ifso, tben'ie not tongue-tyed; go with me, 
 
 ■ Conipauiun. • Throirn iuto the bargain. * Flaring. 
 
 And in the breath of bitter words let's smolher 
 My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smolher'd. 
 
 [Drum wit/lilt. 
 I hear his drum, — be copious in exclaims. 
 
 Enter Kixg Richard, and Aw Train, marching. 
 
 K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition 1 
 
 Duch. (), she, that might have intercepted thee. 
 By strangling thee in her accursed womb. 
 From fillthe slaughters, ■\vretch,thatthou hastdone. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden 
 crown. 
 Where should be branded, if that right were right. 
 The slaughter of the prince that ow'd- that crown. 
 And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers ? 
 Tell me. thou villain-slave, where are my children 1 
 
 Duch. 'riiuu toad, thou toad, where is thy bro- 
 ther Clarence ? 
 And little Ned Plaulagenet, his son 1 
 
 Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, 
 Grey] 
 
 Duch. Where is kind Hastings? 
 
 K.Rich. A nourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, 
 drums ! 
 Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
 Rail on the Lord's anointed : Strike, I say.^ 
 
 [Flourish. Alarums 
 Either be patient, and entreat me fair. 
 Or with the clamorous report of war 
 Thus will I drown your exclamations. 
 
 Duch. Art thou my son ] 
 
 K. Rich. Ay; 1 thank God, my father, and your- 
 self. 
 
 Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. 
 
 A'. Rich. JIadam, I have a touch of your con- 
 dition.3 
 That cannot brook the accent of reproof. 
 
 Duch. O, let me speak. 
 
 A'. Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear. 
 
 Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. 
 
 K.Rich. And brief, good mother; lor I am in 
 haste. 
 
 Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid lor thee, 
 God knows, in torment and in agony. 
 
 K. Rich. And came 1 not at last to comfort you? 
 
 Duch. No, by the holy rood,^ thou know'st it well, 
 Thou eam'st mi earth to make the earth my hell. 
 A grievous burden was thy birth to nie ; 
 Tetchy' and wayward was thy infancy ; 
 Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and 
 
 furious ; 
 Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and v^turous; 
 Thy age confirni'd, jiroud, subtle, sly, and bloody, 
 More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: 
 What comfortable hour canst thou name, 
 That ever graced me in thy company ? 
 
 A'. Rich. 'Faith none, but Humphrey Hour, that 
 call'd your grace 
 To breakfast once, forth of my company. 
 If I be so disgracious in your sight. 
 Let me march on, and not ollend you, madam. — 
 Strike up the drum. 
 
 Duck. I pr'ythee, hear me speak. 
 
 A'. Rich. You speak too bitterly. 
 
 Duch. Hear me a word , 
 
 For 1 shall never speak to thee again. 
 
 K.Rich. So. 
 
 Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordi- 
 nance. 
 Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror: 
 Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, 
 And never look upon thy face again. 
 Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse; 
 Which, in the day of battle, tire tliee more. 
 Than all the cninplele armor that thou wear'st! 
 Mv prayers on the adverse party fight : 
 And there the Utile souls of Edward's children 
 Whisper the spirits of thine enemies. 
 And promise them success and victory. 
 Bloody tliou art, bloody will be thy end; 
 Shame serves thy lite, and doth thy death attend. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less 
 spirit to curse 
 Abides in me; I say amen to her. [Going. 
 
 K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with 
 
 you. 
 Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood, 
 
 ^ Owned. ' Disposition. < Cross. * Touchy, fretful. 
 
472 
 
 KING KICHARD III. 
 
 Act it. 
 
 For thee to murder: lor my daughters. Kicliard, — 
 Tlioy shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; 
 And tiiercfore level not to hit their lives. 
 
 K.Rit:ft. You have a daughter calTd — Elizabeth, 
 Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. 
 
 Q.EJiz. .\nd must she die tor this? O. let her live, 
 And ril corrupt her manners, stain her beauty ; 
 .^lander mysell'. as liilse to Edward's bed ; 
 Throw over her the veil of infamy : 
 So she may live unscarr'd of b!ce(lin,g slaughter, 
 1 will coMli'ss she was not Edward's daughter. 
 
 A'. -Wic^. Wrong not her birth.slieisofroyal blood. 
 
 Q. E'iz, To save her life. I'll say — she is not so, 
 
 A'. Rick. Her life is salbst only in her birth. 
 
 Q. Ellz. And only in that safety died her brothers. 
 
 K- Rich. Lo, at their births, good stars were 
 opposite. 
 
 Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were con- 
 trary. 
 
 K. Rich. All unavoided'' is the doom of destiny. 
 
 Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny: 
 My babes were destined to a fairer death. 
 If grace had bless 'd thee with a fairer lile. 
 
 AT. Rich. You speak, as if tliat I had sl.ain my 
 cousins. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Coiisins, indeed ; and by their uncle 
 cozen'd 
 Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. 
 Whose hands soever lanced their tender hearts, 
 Tiiy head, all indirectly, gave direction : 
 No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt, 
 Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, 
 To revel in the entrails of my lambs. 
 But that still" use of grief makes wild grief tame, 
 My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys, 
 Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ; 
 And I. in such a desperate bay of death. 
 Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft. 
 Hush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. 
 
 K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise, 
 And dangerous success of bloody wars. 
 As I intend more good to you and yours, 
 Tlian ever you or yours by me were harm'd ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with tlie face of 
 heaven. 
 To be discovcr'd, that can do me good ] 
 
 K. Rich. The advancement of jour children, 
 gentle lady. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their 
 lieads ] 
 
 K. Rich. No, to the dignity and hejght of fortune. 
 The high imperial type of this earth's glory. 
 
 Q. Eli* Flatter my sorrows with report of it ; 
 Tell me. what state, what dignity, what honor. 
 Canst thou demise^ to any child of mine ] 
 
 K. Rich. l'2ven all I have; ay.and myself and all. 
 Will 1 withal endow a child of thine ; 
 So in the Lethe of thy angry soul 
 Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs, 
 Wliich thou supposest, I have done to thee. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy 
 kindness 
 Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. 
 
 K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul I lo^e 
 thy daughter. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her 
 soul. 
 
 K. Rich. What do you think ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter from 
 thy soul. 
 So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers. 
 And, from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. 
 
 K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my mean- 
 ing: 
 I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter. 
 And do intend to make her queen of England. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall 
 be her king ! 
 
 A'. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen: Who 
 else shouki be ] 
 
 Q. Eliz. What, thou ' 
 
 A'. Rich. Even so : What think you 
 
 of it, madam? 
 
 Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her ? 
 
 A'. Rich. That I would learn of you. 
 
 As one being best acquainted with her humor. 
 
 Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me ! 
 
 A. Rich. Madam, with all my heart. 
 
 « Unavoiil;ibIe. 'Cuust;\Gt. > Hequeath. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her 
 
 brothers, 
 A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave, 
 Edward, and York ; then, haply,9 will she weep: 
 Therefore present to her, — as sometime Margaret 
 Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood, — 
 A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain 
 The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, 
 And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. 
 If this inducement move her not to love. 
 Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ; 
 Tell her. thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, 
 Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her sake, 
 Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt 
 
 Anne. 
 K.Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is net the 
 
 way 
 To win your daughter. 
 
 Q. Eliz. There is no other way ; 
 
 Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, 
 And not be Richard that hath done all this. 
 K. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of hei 1 
 Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choi/?e 
 
 but have thee. 
 Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. 
 A'. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now 
 
 amended ; 
 Men shall deal un.advisedly sometime-s, 
 Which aller-hours give leisure to repent. 
 If I did take the kingdom from your sons. 
 To make amends, I'll give it to vour daughter. 
 If I have kill'd the issue of your womb. 
 To quicken your increase, I will beget 
 Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. 
 A grandam's name is little less in love. 
 Than is the doting title of a mother ! 
 They are as children, but one step below. 
 Even of your mettle, of your very blood ; 
 Of all one pain,— save for a night of groans 
 Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like .sorrow. 
 Your children were vcvation to your youth. 
 But mine shall be a comfort to your age. 
 The loss you have, is but— a son being king. 
 And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen 
 1 cannot make you what amends I would. 
 Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 
 Dorset, your son, that with a fearful soul, 
 Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, 
 This lair alliance quickly shall call home 
 To high promotions and great dignity : 
 The king.thatcallsyour beauteous daughter— wife, 
 FamiUarly shall call thy Dorset— brother ; 
 Again shall you be mother to a king. 
 And all the ruins of distressful times 
 Repair'd with double riches of content. 
 What ! we have many goodly days to sec: 
 The liquid drops of tears that you have shed. 
 Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl ; 
 .\dv,intaging their loan, with interest 
 Of ten-times double gain of happiness. 
 Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go ; 
 Make bold her bashful year's with your experience, 
 Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale : 
 Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
 Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess 
 With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys : 
 .And when this arm of mine hath ch jstiscd 
 The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, 
 Bound with triumphant garlands will I come. 
 And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ! 
 To whom I will retail my conquest won. 
 And she shall be sole vict'ress, Cajsar's C.fsar. 
 Q. Eliz. What were I best to say ? her father's 
 
 brother 
 Would be her lord? Or shall 1 say. her uncle ? 
 Or, Jie that slew her brothers andhcr uncles? 
 Under what title shall I woo for thee. 
 That Ood, the law, my honor, and her love. 
 Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ? 
 A". Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. 
 Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still last- 
 ing war. 
 A'. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command 
 
 entreats. 
 Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King 
 
 forbids.' • 
 
 A. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty 
 
 queen. 
 
 Perhaps. *Ia the Levitioal L.iw, chap, xviii. 14. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 473 
 
 Q. Eli:. To wail the litlc as licr mother doth. 
 
 K. Rick. Say, I will luve her everhistiniily. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Rut liciw long sliall that title, ever, lasf! 
 
 K. Rich. Sweetly in Ibrce unto her lair life's end. 
 
 Q. Eli:. But how long fairly shall her sweet life 
 last ! 
 
 K. Ricli. As long as heaven, and nature, length- 
 ens it. 
 
 Q. Eli:. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it. 
 
 A'. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am hcrsubject low. 
 
 Q. Eli:. ISutshe, your subject, loathes such sove- 
 reignty. 
 
 A'. Rirh. Be eloquent, in my behalf, to her. 
 
 Q. Eli:. An honest tale speeds best, being plain- 
 ly told. 
 
 A'. Rich. Tlien, in plain terms tell her my loving 
 tale. 
 
 Q. Ell:. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a 
 style. 
 
 A'. Rich'. Your reasons are too shallow, and too 
 quick. 
 
 Q. Eli:. O no, my reasons are too deep and 
 dead ; — 
 Two deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. 
 
 A'. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam, that is 
 past. 
 
 Q. Eli:. Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings 
 break. 
 
 A'. Rich. Xow, hy my George, my garter,^ and 
 my crown, — 
 
 Q. Eli:. Profau'd, dishonor 'd, and the third 
 usurp'd. 
 
 K. Rich. I swear. 
 
 Q. Eli:. By nothing ; for this is no oath. 
 
 Thy (icorge, profan'd, hath lost his holy honor; 
 T!i\ garter, blemish'd. pavvn'd his knightly virtue; 
 Thy crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory : 
 It something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd, 
 fe wear then by something that thou hast not wrong*d, 
 
 K. Rich. Now, by the world, — 
 
 Q. Eliz. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. 
 
 A'. Rich. My father's death, — 
 
 Q. Eli:. Thy life hath that dishonor'd. 
 
 J\. Rich. Then, by myself, — 
 
 Q. Eli:. Thyself is sell-misused. 
 
 A'. Rich. Why then, by God,— 
 
 Q. Eli:. God's wrong is most of all. 
 
 If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him. 
 The uiiily, the king thy brother made, 
 Hail not been broken, nor my brother slain ; 
 If thou hadst tear'd to break an oath by him, 
 Tlie imperial metal, circling now thy head. 
 Had graced the tender temples of my child ; 
 And both the princes had been breathing here. 
 Which now, two tender bed-fellows lor dust. 
 Thy broken laith hath made a piey for worms. 
 What canst thou swear by now ? 
 
 A'. Rix-h. By the time to come. 
 
 Q. Eli:. That thou hast wronged in the time 
 o'erpast ; 
 For I myself have many tears to wash 
 Hercal^er time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. 
 The children live, whose parents thou hast slaugh- 
 
 ter'd. 
 Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age: 
 The parentslive,whosechildrentiiou hast butcher'd. 
 Old barren plants, to wail it in their age : 
 Swear not by time lo come ; for that thou hast 
 Misused, ere used, by times ill-used o'er-past. 
 
 A'. Ric^. As 1 intend to prosper and repent. 
 So thrive I in my dangerous attempt 
 Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound ! 
 Heaven, and Ibrtune, bar nic happy hours! 
 Day yield me not thy light; nor night, thy rest! 
 Be opposite all planets of good luck- 
 To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love. 
 Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, 
 I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter ! 
 In her consists my happiness, and thine ; 
 Without her, follows to myself, and thee. 
 Herself, the land, and many a christian soul. 
 Death, desolation, ruin, and decay : 
 It cannot be avoided, but by this; 
 It will not be avoided, but by this. 
 Theri'fore, dear mother, (I must call you so,) 
 Be the attorney of my love to her. 
 Plead what I will be. not what I have been ; 
 Not my deserts, but what I will deserve: 
 
 'The ensigns of the Order of the Garter. 
 
 Urge the necessity and state ot times, 
 And be not peevish^ Ibund in great designs. 
 Q. Eli:. Shall 1 be tempted of the devil thus? 
 AT. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. 
 Q. Eli:. .Shall I Ibrget m\'self to be myself I 
 AT. Rich. Ay, if yoursell's remembrance wrong 
 
 yourself. 
 Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. 
 K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bur) 
 them : 
 Where, in that nest of spiscry,^ they shall breed 
 Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. 
 Q. Eli:. Shall I go win my daiigiiterto thy willl 
 A'. Jiich. And be a happy mother by the deed. 
 Q. Eli:. 1 go. — Write to me very shortly, 
 And }ou shall understand from me her mind. 
 A'. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so 
 I'urewell. [Kis.^ing her. E.vif Q. Eliz. 
 
 Relenting tool, and shallow, changing — woman ! 
 How now ! what news ] 
 
 Enter R.VTCLIFF ; Cvvy^s-b\ fuUou'ing. 
 Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast 
 Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore 
 Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, 
 Unarni'd. and unresolv'd to beat them back: 
 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; 
 And there they hull, expecting hut the aid 
 Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. 
 A. Aic/i. Some light-loot friend post to the duke 
 of Norlblk:— 
 Ratclifi; thyself, — or Catcsby ; where is Re % 
 Cate. Here, my good lord. 
 K. Rieh. Catesby, fly to the duke. 
 
 Cate. 1 will, my lord, with all convenient haste. 
 A'. Rich. Ratclilt. come hither : Post to Salisbury; 
 When thou com'st thither, — Dullunmindfulvillain, 
 
 [To Catksbv. 
 Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke? 
 Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' 
 pleasure. 
 What from your grace I shall deliver to him. 
 K.Rich. (1. true, good Catesby;— Bid him levy 
 straight 
 The greatest strength and power he can make. 
 And meet mc suddenly at Salisbury. 
 Cate. I go. [ Exit 
 
 Rut. What, may it please you, shall 1 do at 
 
 Salisbury f 
 A". Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there, be- 
 fore I go f 
 Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 A'. Rich. My mind is changed. — Stanley, what 
 
 news with you T 
 Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with 
 the hearing ; 
 Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. 
 
 K.Rich. Heyday, a riddle ! neither good nor bad ! 
 What need'st thou run so many miles about. 
 When thou mayst tell tliy tale the nearest way ? 
 Once more, what news I 
 Stan. Richmond is on thf seas. 
 
 A. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on 
 him ! 
 White-liver'd run.igate. v\hat doth he there? 
 Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess, 
 A. Rich. Well, as you guess ] 
 Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and 
 Morton, 
 He makes tor England, here to claim the crown. 
 K. Rich. Is the chair empty 1 is the sword un- 
 sway'd ? 
 Is the king dead ? the empire unpossess'd ? 
 What heir of York is there alive, but we ? 
 And who is England's king, but great York's heir? 
 Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas? 
 .S7«n. Unless for that, my liege, 1 cannot guess. 
 K. Rich. Unless tor that he comes to be your liege, 
 You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. 
 Thou wilt revolt, and lly to him, I fear. 
 
 Stan. No, mighty liege ; theretbre mistrust me 
 
 not. 
 A'. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him 
 back ] 
 Where be thy tenants, and thy followers ? 
 Are they not now upon the western shore. 
 Safe-conducting the rebels I'roni their ships? 
 * Foolish- * The pha^nix's nest. 
 
474 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the 
 
 nortii. 
 A'. Rich. Cold friends to me : what do they in 
 the north. 
 When they should serve their sovereign in the 
 west? 
 Slan. They have not been commanded, mighty 
 king: 
 PIea.scth your majesty to give me leave, 
 I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace, 
 Where, and what time, your majesty sliall please. 
 K.llicli. Ay, ay, tliou wouldst be one to join with 
 llichmond : 
 I will not trust you, sir. 
 
 t.7«H. Most mighty sovereign. 
 
 You iiave nocause tohold my triendship doubtful; 
 I never was, nor never will be false. 
 K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you, 
 leave behind 
 Your son, George Stanley; look your heart be firm, 
 Or else his head's assurance is but frail. 
 Slan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. 
 [Exil Stanley. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, 
 As 1 by friends am well advertised. 
 Sir Edward Courteney, and the haughty prelate, 
 Bisluip of Exeter, his elder brother, 
 Willi many more conlederates, are in arms. 
 
 Enter anutJier Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in 
 
 arms ; 
 And every hour more competitors' 
 Klock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. 
 
 Enter anot/ier Messenger. 
 
 3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Bucking- 
 
 ham — 
 
 K. Ricti. Out on ye, owls ! nothing but songs of 
 
 death? [He strikes him. 
 
 There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 
 
 3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty, 
 Is, — that, by sudden floods and fall of water.s, 
 Buckingham's array is dispers'd .and scatter'd* 
 And he himself wander'd away alone. 
 No iinin knows whither. 
 
 A'. Rich. 0. 1 cry you mercy : 
 
 There is my purse to cure that blow of^ thine. 
 Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd 
 Reward to him tliat brings the traitor in1 
 
 3 Mess. Such proclamation hatii beau made, my 
 liege. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis 
 Dorset, 
 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. 
 But this good comtort bring I to your liigtiness,— 
 The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempests; 
 Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat. 
 Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks, 
 If they were his assistants, yea, or no; 
 Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham 
 Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, 
 Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bre- 
 tagne. 
 K. Rieh. March on, march on, since we are tip 
 in arms ; 
 If not to tight witli I'oreign enemies. 
 Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. 
 Enter Catesby. 
 Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken, 
 That is tlie best news; That tlie earl of Richmond 
 Is with a mighty jiower landed at Millijrd, 
 Is colder news, but yet they must be told. 
 K. Rich. .-Vway towards Salisbury; while we rea- 
 son here, 
 A royal battle might be won and lost:— 
 Some one take order, Buckingham be brought 
 To Salisbury ; — the rest march on with me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE V. — A Rnom in Lord Stanley's House. 
 Enter Stanley, and Sir Christopher Urswick.' 
 Stan. Sir Ciiristopher, tell Richmond this from 
 me: — 
 That, in tiie sty of this most bloody boar. 
 My son George Stanley is Irank'ds up in hold ; 
 If I revolt, off goes young George's head; 
 The fear of tliat witliholds my present aid. 
 But, tell me. wiiere is princely Richmond now? 
 Chris. At Pembroke, oratHa'rford-west, in Wales. 
 Siun. What men of name resort to him ? 
 t'hrvi. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; 
 Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir\Villiam Stanley ; 
 Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt, 
 And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew ; 
 And many other of great fame and worth : 
 And towards London do they bend their course, 
 If by the way they be not ibught withal. 
 Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; commend me 
 to him; 
 Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented 
 He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. 
 These letters will resolve him of my mind. 
 Farewell. [Gives Papers to Sir Cuiustopher. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Salisbury. An open Plaex. 
 
 Enter the Sherifl', and Guard, with Buckingham, 
 It'i to Execution. 
 
 Buck. Will not king Richard let me speak with 
 him ? 
 
 Shfr. No, my good lord ; therefore be patient. 
 
 Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children. Rivers, 
 Grev, 
 Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
 Vaiighan.and ail that have miscarried 
 By uiiilerhand corrupted foul injustice; 
 If that your moody discontented souls 
 Do through the clouds behold this present hour, 
 
 Even tin" revenge mock my destruction ! 
 
 This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? 
 
 Slier. It is, my lord. 
 
 Ruck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's 
 doomsday. 
 This is the day, which, in King Edward s time, 
 1 wish'd might fall on ine. when I was found 
 False to his children, or his wile's allies: 
 This is the day, wherein I wish'd to full 
 By the false faith of him whom most 1 trusted; 
 This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul, 
 Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.'' 
 That high All-seer which I da'llied with, 
 
 • Asso"iates. ' Injurious practices. 
 
 Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head. 
 And given in earnest what 1 begg'd in jet. 
 Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
 To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: 
 Thus Margaret's curse tails heavy on my iieek, — 
 JVhen lie.qunthshc. shall s]il it Ihi/ heart wit fisorruu; 
 Remember Margaret teas a prophetess. — 
 Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame. 
 Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. 
 [Exeunt Buckingham, ^c 
 
 SCENE U.— Plain near Tamvvorth. 
 Enter, with Drum and Colors, Richmond, Oxford, 
 Sir James Blunt, Sir Walter Herueri', and 
 others, with Forces, marching. 
 Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving 
 friends, 
 Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny. 
 Thus far into the bowels of the land 
 Have we inareh'd on without impediment; 
 And here receive we from our father Stanley 
 Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
 The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, 
 Tliat spoii'd yonrsummer fields, and fruitful vines, 
 Swiibi your warm blood like wash, and makes his 
 trough 
 'Chaplain to the countess of Rii-hmonii. 
 " A frank is a sty iu which bogs are fattened 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING RICHARD. III. 
 
 475 
 
 In your embowcli'd bosoms, this foul swine 
 Lies now even in Uie centre oftliis isle, 
 Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn: 
 From Tannvorth thither, is but one day's march. 
 In God's name, checrly on, courageous friends, 
 To reap llie harvest of perpetual peace 
 By this one bloody trial of sharp war. 
 
 OjJ Every man's conscience is a thousand 
 swords, 
 To fight a-iainst that bloody homicide. 
 
 Ilei-h. I iloubt not, but his friends will turn to us. 
 llluut. He hath no friends, but who are friends 
 (or fear; 
 Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. 
 Jikhm. All lor our vantage. Then, in God's 
 name, marcli; 
 True hope is swilt, and Hies with swallow's wings, 
 Kinj^s It inalvcs gods, and meaner creatures Idngs. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— Bosworth Field. 
 Enter Ki.vG Rich.vkd, ami Forces; the Duke of 
 Nc'UFOLK, Eakl of SfUREY, ami otiiera. 
 K. Ric/i. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bos- 
 worth Held. — 
 My lord of .Surrey, why look you so sad] 
 ^•!«■. My heart is ten limes hghter than my looks. 
 
 A'. RicA. My lord of Norl'olk, 
 
 ■t^'or. Here, most gracious liege. 
 
 K. Rich. Norlblk, we must have knocks ; Ha ! 
 
 must we not] 
 Aar. We must botli give and take, my loving lord. 
 K.Ricli. Up with my tent: Here will I lie to- 
 night; 
 ySuldicr.^ begin to set up tli£ King's tent. 
 But where, to-morrow !— Well, all's one for that.— 
 Who hath descried the number of the traitors .' 
 Aor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. 
 A.. Ricli. Why, our battalia trebles that account: 
 Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, 
 Which they upon the adver.se faction want. 
 Up with the tent. — Come, noble gentlemen. 
 Let ys survey the vantage of the ground ;— 
 Call for some men of sound directions : — 
 Let's want no discipline, make no delay ; 
 For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter, on the otiier Side nf tlie Field, Riciimoxd, 
 
 SiK William Buasdox. Oxford, aiirf otiier Lords. 
 
 Some (iftlie Soldiers pitc/i Richmosd's Tent. 
 
 Riclim. The weary sun hath made a golden set. 
 And, by the bright track of his fiery car. 
 Gives token of a goodly day to morrow.— 
 Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.— 
 Give me some ink and paper in my tent ; 
 I'll draw the form and model of our battle, 
 Limit each leader to his several charge. 
 And part in just proportion our small power. 
 My lord of O.xford,- you, sir William Brandon,— 
 And you, sir Waller Herbert, stay with me : 
 The earl of Pembroke.keeps his regiment ; 
 Good captain Blunt, bear iny good night to him, 
 And by the second hour in the moiniiig 
 Desire the earl to see me in my tent :— 
 Vet one thing more, good captain, do for me ; 
 Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know ? 
 
 Blunt. Unless 1 have mista'en his colors much, 
 (\\ Inch, well I am assur'd. I have not done,) 
 Ills resilient lies half a mile at least 
 South liom the mighty power of the king. 
 
 Richni. If without peril it be possible. 
 Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak 
 
 with him. 
 And give him from me this most needful note. 
 
 Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it ; 
 And so, God give you quiet rest to-night ! 
 
 Richni. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, 
 gentlemen. 
 Let us consult upon to-morrow's business ; 
 In to my tent, the air is raw and cold. 
 
 [Theij withdraw into the Tent. 
 
 Enter, to his Tent, King Richard, Norfolk, Rat- 
 cliff, and Catesby. 
 K. Rich. What is't o'clock? 
 
 Cate. It's supper time, my lord: 
 
 Its nine o clock. 
 
 A". Rich. I will not sup to-night.— 
 
 Oive me some ink and paper.— 
 
 What, is my beaver easier than it was? — 
 Anil all my armor laid into my tent ? 
 
 Cute. It Is, my liege; and all things are in readi 
 ness. 
 
 K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee lo thy charge ; 
 Use carel'ul watch, choose trusty sentinels. 
 
 Nur. I go, my lord. 
 
 A'. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle 
 Norfolk. 
 
 Kor. I warrant you. my lord. [Exit. 
 
 K. Rich. Ratclili; 
 
 Rat. My lord ? 
 
 K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms 
 
 To Stanley's regiment; bid hmv bring hir power 
 Before sun-rising, lest his son George lall 
 Into the blind cave of eternal night. — 
 Fill me a bowl of wine. — Give me a watch :' — 
 
 \ To Catesby 
 Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. — 
 Look that my stavesi be sound, and not too heavy 
 Katclifi; 
 
 Rat. My lord? 
 
 K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord North- 
 umberland I 
 
 Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself. 
 Much about cock-shut^ time, Irom troop to troop 
 Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. 
 
 A. Rich. 1 am sat ished. Give me a bowl of wine : 
 I have not Ihat alacrity of spirit. 
 Nor cheer of mind, that 1 was wont to have.— 
 So, set It down. — Is ii;k and paper ready ! 
 
 Rat. It is, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Bid my guard watch ; leave me. 
 
 About the mid of night, come to my tent, 
 .4nd help to arm me.^Leave me, I say. 
 
 [King Richard retires into Ais- Tent. Exeunt 
 Ratcliff and Catesbv. 
 
 Richmond's Tent open,^. and discovers him, and 
 hit OlHccrs, ^-c. 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 Stan. Fortune and victory sit on Ihv helm ! 
 
 Richm. .\11 comlbrt that the dark night can alford, 
 Be to thy person, noble father-in-law ! 
 Tell me, how fares our loving mother ? 
 
 Stan. 1, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother 
 Who prays continually for Richmond's good : 
 So much for that.— The silent hours steal on, 
 And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 
 In brief, lor so the season bids us be. 
 Prepare thy battle early in the morning; 
 And put thy fortune to the arbitrement 
 01 bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war. 
 I, as I may, (that which I would, I cannot,) 
 With best advantage will deceive the time, 
 .\nd aid thee in this doubtliil shock of arms: 
 But on thy side I may not be too forward. 
 Lest, being .seen, thy brother tender George 
 Be executed in his lather's sight. 
 Farewell : The leisure and the fearful time 
 Cuts otllhe ceremonious vows of love, 
 -And ample interchange of sweet discourse. 
 Which so long-sunder'd friends should dwell upon 
 God give us leisure for these rites of love ! 
 Once more, adieu:— Be valiant, and speed w^ell. 
 
 ^Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment : 
 I 11 strive, with troubled thoughts, lo lake a nap ; 
 Lest leaden slumber peise' me down to-morrow, 
 When I should mount with wings of victory : 
 Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. 
 [Exeunt Lords, ^c. with Stanley 
 O Thou ! whose caj.laiii I account myself, 
 Look on my forces with a gracious eye; 
 Put in their hands thy brui.sing irons of wrath, 
 That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
 The usurping helmets of our adversaries ! 
 Make us thy ministers of chastisement. 
 That we may praise thee in the victory ! 
 To thee I do commend my watchful soul. 
 Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes; 
 Sleeping, and waking, 0, defend me still ! [Sleeps. 
 The Ghost (f Prince Edward, son to Henry 
 THE Si.xTH, ri^es between the two Tents. 
 
 Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow . 
 „, . , , . , [To King Richard. 
 
 inink, how thou stab'dstmeinmy prime of youth 
 At Tewksbury; Despair, therefore, and die !— 
 
 ' ~ V;?*:''i-"ii'it- ' Wood of the lances. 
 
 ' Twilight. s Wtib'h. 
 
476 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Be cheerful, RiehmonJ ; lor the wronged souls 
 Of butcher'd princes tight in thy beliulf: 
 King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. 
 The Ghost of King Hesrv tiik Sixth rises. 
 Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed body 
 {Tn King Richard. 
 By thee was punched full of deadly holes : 
 Think on the Tower, and me ; Despair, and die ! 
 Harry the Sixth hids thee despair, and die.— 
 Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! 
 
 [To Richmond. 
 Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king. 
 Doth comlbrt thee in thy sleep; Live, and flourish! 
 
 The Ghost of Clarence rises. 
 Ghnd. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! 
 [To KixR Richard. 
 I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wme, 
 Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death ! 
 To-morrow in tlie battle think on me. 
 And fall thy edgeless s«foid ; Despair, and die !— 
 Thou ollspring of the house of Lancaster, 
 
 [Tu Richmond. 
 The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee ; 
 Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and llourish! 
 
 The Ghosts o/' Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan, rise. 
 Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, 
 
 [TuKiNG Richard. 
 Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die! 
 Grey. Tliink upon Grey, and let Ihy soul de- 
 spair! [To King Richard. 
 Vaugh. Think upon Vaughaii; and, with guilty 
 tear. 
 Let fall thy lance ! Despair, and die !— 
 
 [To King Richard. 
 All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's 
 bosom [7'» Richmond. 
 
 Will conquer him;— Awake, and win the day ! 
 The Ghost (;/' Hastings rises. 
 Chosl. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; 
 
 [To King Richard. 
 And in a bloody battle end thy days ! 
 Think on lord Hastings ; and despair, and die !— 
 Ciuiet untroubled soul, awake, awake ! 
 
 [7'« Richmond. 
 Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair Ehgland's sake! 
 
 The Ghosts ofihe two young Princes rise. 
 Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the 
 Tower; 
 Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, 
 And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! 
 Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.— 
 Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; 
 Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy ! 
 Live, and beget a happy race of kings! 
 Edward's uiiliappy sons do bid thee flourish. 
 The Ghost o/Qi:een Anne rises. 
 Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne, 
 thy will?. 
 That never slept a quiet hour witji thee, 
 Now fills thy sleep with perturbations: 
 To-morrow in the battle think on mc. 
 And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die !— 
 Thuu, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep ; 
 
 [To Richmond. 
 Dream of success and happy victory; 
 Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. 
 TAf Ghost of BiCKiNGHAM rises. 
 Ghost. The first was I, that helji'd thee to the 
 crown ; [To Kino Richard. 
 
 Tlu' last was I, that felt thy tyranny : 
 (I, 111 ilie battle think on Biiekinghain, 
 Ami die in terror of thy guiltiness! 
 Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death ; 
 Fainting, despair; desjjairing', yield thy breath!— 
 • I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid : 
 
 [To Richmond. 
 But cheer thy heart, and be Ihnii not dismay'd : 
 God. and good ongels, light on Richinoud's side; 
 And Richard falls in height of all his pride. 
 
 [The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts 
 out of his Dream. 
 K. Rich. Give me another horse, — bind up my 
 wounds, — 
 Have mercy, Jesu !— Soil ; I did but dieain.— 
 
 coward conscience, how dost thou aflliet me : — 
 The lights burn blue— It is now dead midnight. 
 Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 What do I fear f myself? there's none else by : 
 Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I. 
 Is there a murderer here 1 ^fo;— Yes; I am: 
 Then fly.— What, from myself! Great reason 
 
 Whyi 
 Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself ' 
 
 1 love myself. Wherefore ? for any good. 
 That I myself have done unto myself! 
 O, no: alas, I rather hate myself, 
 Kor hateful deeds committed bymyself. 
 I am a villain : Yet I lie, I am not. 
 Fool, of thyself speak well :— Fool, do not flatter. 
 My conscience hath a thousand several torgues. 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale. 
 And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
 Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree. 
 Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree ; 
 All several sins, all used in each degree. 
 Throng to the bar, cryingall,— Guilty ! guilty! 
 I shall despair.— There is no creature loves me; 
 And, if I die, no soul will pity me :— 
 Nay. wherefore should they? since that I myselt 
 Fiiid in myself no pity to myself. 
 Methought, the souls of all that I had murder d 
 Came to my tent : and every one did threat 
 To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard 
 
 Enter Ratcliff. 
 
 Rat. My lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Who's there? 
 
 Ral. Ratehir, my lord ; 'tis L The early village 
 cock 
 Hath twice done salutation to the morn ; 
 Your friends are up, and buckle on their armor. 
 
 A'. Rich. 0, Ratcliir, I have dream'd a fearful 
 dream ! 
 What thinkest thou? will our friends prove all true' 
 
 Hot. No doubt, my lord. 
 
 A'. Rich. Ratclitr, I fear, I fear,— 
 
 Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of sha 
 dows. 
 
 A'. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-uight 
 Have struck "more terror to the soul of Richard, 
 Than can the substance often thousand soldiers, 
 Armed lu proof, and led by shallow Richmond. 
 U is not yet near day. Come, go with me ; 
 Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper. 
 To hear, if any mean lo shrink from me. 
 
 [Exeunt King Richard and Ratcliff. 
 
 Richmond icalces. Enter Oxford and others. 
 
 Lords. Good morrow. Richmond. 
 
 Richm. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentle- 
 men. 
 That you have ta'en a lardy sluggard here. 
 
 Lords. How have you slept, my lord ! 
 
 Richm. The sweetest sleep, and liiirest-boding 
 dreams. 
 That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, 
 Have I since your departure had. my lords. 
 Methought, tlieir souls, whose bodies Richard mut ^ 
 
 der'd, 
 Came to my tent, and cried— On ! victory ! 
 I promise you, my heart is very jocund 
 In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
 How far into the morning is it, lords 1 
 
 Lords. Upon the stroke of four. 
 
 Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm. and give di- 
 rection. — [He advances to the Troops. 
 More than I have said, loving countrymen. 
 The leisure and enforcement of the times 
 Forbids to dwell on : Vet remember this,— 
 God, and our good cause, fight upon our side ; 
 The prayers of holy saints, and wrmiL'ed souls. 
 Like high-rear 'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; 
 Richard except, those, whom we light against. 
 Had rather have us win, than him they Ibllow. 
 For what is he they follow ? truly, gentlemen, 
 A bloody tyrant and a homicide ; 
 One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish d ; 
 One that made means to come by what he hath. 
 And slaughter'd those that were the means to lielp 
 
 him; 
 A base foul stone, made precious by the foil 
 Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; 
 One that hath ever been God's enemy : 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KlXa KICHARD III. 
 
 477 
 
 Then, if you fight against God's enemy, 
 God will, in ju:^tice, ward' you as his soldiers ; 
 If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, 
 You sleep in peace, the tyrant bcinj? slain ; 
 If you do fight against your country's foes, 
 Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ; 
 If you do light in saleguard of your .wives. 
 Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ; 
 If you do free your children from the sword, 
 Your children's cliildren quit^ it in your age. 
 Tiien, in the name of God, and all these rights, 
 Advance your standards, draw your willingswords: 
 For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
 Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; 
 But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
 The least oi you shall share his part thereof. 
 Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully; 
 God, and Saint George I Richmond, and victory ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Kixa Richard. Ratcliff, Attendants, 
 and Forces. 
 
 K. Rich. What said Northumberland, as touch- 
 ing Richmond ! 
 
 Rat. Tliat lie was never trained up in arms. 
 
 K. Rick. He said tJie truth: And wJiat said Surrey 
 then f 
 
 Rat. He stnil'd and said, the better for our pur- 
 ^ pose. 
 
 A'. Rich. He wasi* tJic rigJU; and so. indeed, it is. 
 
 [ Clvck strikes. 
 Tell tlie clock there. — Give me a calendar. — 
 Wiio saw the sun to-day ] 
 
 Rat. Not I, my lord. 
 
 R. Rich. Tlien he disdains to shine; for, by the 
 book, 
 He should have brav'd the east an hour ago: 
 A black day will it be to somebody.— 
 Ratclili; 
 
 Rat. My lord 1 
 
 K. Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day ; 
 
 The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. 
 I would, these dewy tears were from the ground. 
 Not shine to-day! Wiiy, what i.-; thai to me. 
 More than to Richmond 1 ihv the seli-sanie heaven, 
 That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. 
 
 Enter Noufole. 
 
 N(/7\ Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the 
 field. 
 
 K. Rich. Come, hustle, bustle ;— Caparison my 
 liorse ;— 
 Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: 
 I will lead furlh my soldiers to the plain. 
 And tJius my baltk^ shall be ordL'ied. 
 My foreward shall be drawn out all in length. 
 Consisting equally of horse and foot; 
 Our archers shall be placed in the midst: 
 John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey, 
 Shall have the leading of tJiis foot and horse. 
 They thus directed, we ourself will follow 
 Vi the main battle ; wiiose puissance on either side 
 Shall be well winged witli our chielf-st horse. 
 Tliis, and Saint George to boot!— What think'st 
 thou, Norfolk 1 
 
 Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign.— 
 This found 1 on my tent this morning. 
 
 [Ginnis: a Scroll. 
 
 K. Ricii. Jncki/ of Nit)folky he not too -bold, [Reads. 
 For Dickon^ thy master w bought and sold. 
 A thing devised by the enemy. — 
 Go. gentleman, every man unto his charge : 
 Let not our babbling dreams alfright our souls : 
 Conscience is but o word that cowards use. 
 Devised at first to keep the strong in awe; 
 Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. 
 March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell; 
 
 If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. 
 
 What shall 1 say more than I have inferr'dl 
 Remember whom you are to cope withal ; — 
 \ sort" of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways, 
 A scum of Breta^'iies, and base lackey peasants, 
 Whom their o'er-rloyeil country vomits Ibrth 
 To desperate ventures and assured destruction. 
 You sleepiiiii^ s;iie. they bring you to unrest ; 
 You havim; hinds, iind bless'dwith beauteous wives, 
 They would restrain the one, distain the other. 
 
 * fluarci. * Requite. 
 
 6 The anciaut familiarization of lilchard. ' Company. 
 
 And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow, 
 Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost 1 
 A milk-sop, one that never in his life 
 Kelt so much cold as over shoes in snow 1 
 Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again ; 
 Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, 
 These famish'd beg*jars, weary of their lives; 
 Who, but for dreaming on this fi>nd exploit. 
 For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd them 
 
 selves : 
 If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us. 
 And not these bastard Bretagnes; whom our fathers 
 Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd. and tliump'd, 
 And, on record, left them the heirs oi shame. 
 Shall these enjoy our lands ! he with our wives T 
 Ravish our daughters ? — Hark, I hear tlieir drum. 
 
 [Drum afar off. 
 Fight, gentlemen of England! fjghl, bold yeomen! 
 Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head ! 
 Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ; 
 Amaze the welkin witlj y*ur broken staves ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 What says lord Stanley I will he bring his power? 
 
 Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come. 
 
 K. Rich. Olfinstantly with his son George's head. 
 
 Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh; 
 Aher the battle let George Stanley die. 
 
 A'. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within 
 my bosom : 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of liery dragons ! 
 Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IX.— Another Part cf the Field. 
 Alarum: Excwsi/ms. Enter Norfolk, and 
 
 Forces ; to him Catesby. 
 Cafe. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! 
 The king enacts more wonders than a man 
 Daring an opposite to every danger : 
 His horse is shiin, and all on foot he fights, 
 Seeking for Richmond in the tliroat of death; 
 Rescue, lair lord, or else the day is lost ! 
 
 Alarum. Enter King Richari>. 
 K.Rich. A horse I ahorse! my kingdom for a 
 
 horse ! 
 Cafe. Withdraw, my lord. I'll helpyoutoa horse. 
 A.'. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, 
 And I will stand the Iiazard of the die : 
 I lliink thert^ be six Richmonds in the field ; 
 Five Jiave I slain to-day instead of him : — 
 A horse I a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. Enter King Richard and Riphmond ; 
 and exeunt Jightiug. Retreat, and Flourish. 
 Then enter Richmond, Stanley bearing the 
 Crown, with divers other Lords, and Forces. 
 
 Richm. God. and your arms, be prais'd, victorious 
 friends ; 
 The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. 
 
 iiian. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou 
 acquit thee I 
 Lo, here, tiiis !i)ng-usurped royalty, 
 From tlie di*ad temples of this bloody wretch 
 Have 1 pluck'd olf to grace thy brows withal; 
 Wear U, enjny it, and make much of it. 
 
 Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all : — 
 Bill, tell me first, is young George Stanley livingl 
 
 Htau. He is, my lord. and safe in Leicester town, 
 Wliither, ifit please you, we may now withdraw us 
 
 Richm. What men of name are slain on either 
 side ! 
 
 Sfati. .lohn duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers 
 Sir Robert Brackenbury, and sir William Brandon 
 
 Rij^hm.lnlvT their bodies as becomes their births, 
 Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled, 
 Tiiat in submission will return to us; 
 And, then, as we Jiave la'en the sacrament, 
 We will unite the white rose with the red: 
 Smile heaven upon this fiiir conjunction. 
 That long hath frown'd upon their enmity ! — 
 What traitor hears mo, and says not — Amen ? 
 England liatii long been mad, and scarr'd herself; 
 The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, 
 The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, 
 
478 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act V. Scene IV. 
 
 The son, compeU'd, been butcher to the sire ; 
 
 All this divided Yorli and Lancaster, 
 
 Divided, in their dire division. — 
 
 O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, 
 
 The true succeeders of each royal house, 
 
 By God's fair ordinance conjoin together ! 
 
 And let their heirs, (God, if thy will be so,) 
 
 Enrich the time to come witti smooth-faced 
 
 peace, 
 With smiling plenty, and f;ur prosperous days! 
 
 Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, 
 That would reduce these bloody days again. 
 And make poor England weep in streams o! 
 
 blood ! 
 Let them not live to taste this land's increase, 
 That would with treason wound this fair land's 
 
 peace ! 
 No\V civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: 
 That she may long live here, God say— Amen. 
 
 [Ejceunt. 
 
4<f) &' 
 
 :&.mmm'. 
 
KING IIENEY. YIII. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry the Eighth. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey. 
 
 Cardinal Campeius. 
 
 Capdcius, Ambassador from the Emperor 
 
 Cliarles V. 
 Grassier, Archbishop 0/ Canterbury. 
 Duke of Norfolk. 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 Duke of Suffolk. 
 Earl of Surrey. 
 L(jrd Chamberlain. 
 Lord Chunceflor. 
 
 Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester. 
 Kisiiop OF Lincoln. 
 Lord Arergavenny, 
 Loud Sands. 
 Sir Henry Guildford. 
 Sir Thomas Lovell. 
 Sir Anthony Denny. 
 Sir Nicholas Vaux. 
 Secretaries to Wolsey. 
 Cromwell, Servant 10 Wolsey. 
 
 Griffith, Gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine. 
 
 Three other Geiiltemen. 
 
 Doctor Hutts. I'hiisieian to the King. 
 
 Garter Kiuf^ at Arms. 
 
 Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 Brandon, and a Sergeant at Arms. 
 
 Dour-lceeper if the Council-chamber. 
 
 Porter and Aw Man. 
 
 Page to Gardiner. 
 
 A Crier. 
 
 Queen Katharine, Wife to King Henry, after- 
 
 wards divorced. 
 Anne Bullen, tier Maid of Honor; afterwards 
 
 Queen. 
 An old Ladii. Friend to Anne Bullen. 
 Patlence, Woman to Queen Katharine. 
 
 Several Lords and Ladies in the dumb shnws; 
 Women attending upon the Queen; Spirits, 
 which appear to tier; Scribes, Officers, Guards, 
 and other Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, chiefly in London and Westminster; once at Kimbollon. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 I come no more to make you laugh ; things now, 
 
 That bear a weighty and a serious brow. 
 
 Sad, high, and working, lull ol'stale and woe, 
 
 Sucii noble scenes as draw the eye to liow. 
 
 We now present. Those that can pity, here 
 
 May, if they think it well, let liill a tear; 
 
 The subject will deserve it. Such as give 
 
 Their money out of hope they may believe, 
 
 May here hnd truth too. Those, that come to see 
 
 Only a show or two, and so agree. 
 
 The play may pass; if they be still and willing, 
 
 I'll undertake, may see away their shilling 
 
 Richly in two short hours. ■ Only they. 
 
 That come to hear a merry, bawdy play, 
 
 A noise of targets; or to see a lellow 
 
 In a long motley coat, guarded' with j ellovv. 
 
 Will be deeeiv'd ; for, gentle hearers, know. 
 To rank our chosen truth with such a show 
 .\s fool and hght is, beside forfeiting 
 Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring, 
 (To make that only true we now intend,-) 
 Will leave us never an understanding friend. 
 Therefore, lor goodness' sake, and as you are known 
 The first and happiest hearers of the town, 
 Be sad, as we would make ye: Tliink, ye see 
 The very persons of our noble story, 
 As they were living; think you see them great. 
 And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat, 
 Of thousand friends : then, in a moment, see 
 How soon this mightiness meets misery ! 
 And, if you can be merry then, I'll say, 
 A man may weep upon his wedding day. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. An Ante-chamber m the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter the Duke op Norfolk, at one door ; at the 
 
 other the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord 
 
 Abergavenny. 
 
 Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have 
 you done. 
 Since last we saw in France 1 
 
 A'or. I thank your grace : 
 
 Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer 
 Of what I saw there. 
 
 1 Larud. 
 
 Buck. An untimely ague 
 
 Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when 
 Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,^ 
 Met in the vale of Ardc. 
 
 Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and the Arde: 
 
 I was then present, saw them salute on horse- 
 back; 
 Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung 
 In their euibraceuient, as they grew together; 
 Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have 
 
 weigli'd 
 Such a compounded one 1 
 a Pretend. > Henry VIII. and Francis I., kin; of Francs 
 
 479 
 
480 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Buck. All the whole time 
 
 I was my cliamber's prisoner. 
 
 A^fw. Then you lost 
 
 The view of earthly glory : Men might say. 
 Till this time, pomp was single ; hut now married 
 To one above itself. Each following day 
 Became the next day's master, till the lust 
 Made former wonders its : To-day, the French, 
 All eliuquant,-' all in gold, like heathen gods, 
 Sliciii' down the English; and, to-morrow, they 
 jM:hIi- Britain, India: every man that stood. 
 Show d like a mine. Tlicir dwarfish pages were 
 As cherubim, all gilt : the madams too, 
 Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear 
 The pride upon them, that their very labor 
 Was to them as a painting; now this mask 
 Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night 
 Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings, 
 Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst. 
 As presence did present them; him in eye, 
 Still him in praise; and, being present both, 
 Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner 
 Durst wag his tongue in censure.' When these 
 
 suns 
 (For so they phrase them) by their heralds chal- 
 lenged 
 The noble spirits to arms, they did perform 
 Beyond thought's compass; that Ibrmer labulous 
 
 story. 
 Being now seen possible enough, got credit, 
 That BevisS was believ'd. 
 
 Huck. 0. you go far. 
 
 Aw. As I belong to worship, arid all'ect 
 In honor honesty, the tract of every thing 
 Would by a good discourser lose some hie. 
 Which action's .self was tongue to. All was royal; 
 To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, 
 Order gave each thing view; the office did 
 Distinctly his full function. 
 
 Buck. Who did guide, 
 
 I mean, who set the body and the limbs 
 Of this great sport together, as you guess ? 
 
 i\'(jr. One, certes" that promises no element^ 
 In such a business. 
 
 Buck. I pray you, who, my lordl 
 
 Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion 
 Of the right reverend cardinal of York. 
 
 Buck. The devil speed him ! no man's pie is 
 free'd 
 From his ambitious finger. What had he 
 To do in these herce vanities 1 I wonder. 
 That such a keechii can with his very bulk 
 Take up the rays o' Ihe beneficial sun, 
 And keep it from the earth. 
 
 Nor. Surely, sir. 
 
 There s in him .=tuft'that puts him to these ends; 
 For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose grace 
 Chalks Successors their way,) nor call'd upon 
 For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied 
 To eminent assislanec, but. spider-like, 
 Out of Ins self-drawing weli, lie gives us note, 
 The force of his own liiciJl makes his way ; 
 A gift tliat heaven gives for him, which buys 
 A jilace ne.xt to the king. 
 . Ahcr. I cannot tell 
 
 What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye 
 Pierce into that; but 1 can see his pride 
 Peep through each part of him: Whence has he 
 
 that? 
 If not fiom hell, the devil is a niggard ; 
 Or has givert all before, and he begins 
 A new hell in himself. 
 
 Buck. Why the devil, 
 
 Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, 
 Without Ihe privity o' the king, to appoint 
 Who should attend on him! He makes up the 
 
 file ^ 
 
 Of all the gentry; for the most part such 
 Too, whom as great a charge as little honor 
 He meant lo lay upon : and his own letter,' 
 The iKMiiiialile board of council out, 
 Must lelch liiin in the papers. 
 
 Alier. I do know 
 
 Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have 
 By this so sicken'd their estates, that never 
 They shall abound as formerly. 
 
 « Glittering, shining, i In opinion, which was most noble. 
 ■ Sir Ilevis, an old romance. i tVrtninlv. 
 
 • Practice. "Lump of fat. 
 
 ' Sets down in his letter without consulting the council. 
 
 Buck. ' O, many 
 
 Have broke their backs with laying manors on them 
 For this great journey. What did this vanity, 
 But minisler communication oi' 
 A most poor issue ] 
 
 Nor. Gricvinglv I think 
 
 The peace between the French and us not values 
 The cost that did conclude it. 
 
 Buck. Every man. 
 
 After the hideous storm that folluw'd, was 
 A thing inspir'd: and, not consulting, broke 
 Into a general prophecy,— That this tempest, 
 Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded 
 The sudden breach on't. 
 
 Nor. Which is budded out; 
 
 For France hath Haw'd the league, and hath at- 
 
 tach'd 
 Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. 
 
 -■l*f''- Is it therefore 
 
 The abmassador is silenced ] 
 
 Aw-. Marry, is't. 
 
 Alier. A proper title of a peace ; and purchas'd 
 At a superduous rate ! 
 
 Buck. Why, all this business 
 
 Our reverend cardinal carried.- 
 
 ^(^. 'Like it, your grace, 
 
 The state takes notice of the private difference 
 Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you, 
 (And take it from a heart that wishes towards you 
 Honor and plenteous safety.) that you read 
 The cardinal's malice and his potency 
 Together: to consider further, that 
 What his high hatred would efleet, wants not 
 A minister in his power: You know his nature, 
 That he's revengeful; and I know, bis sword 
 Haih a sharp edge; it's long, and, it in,ay be said, 
 It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend. 
 Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel. 
 You 11 find it wholesome. Lo.wherecomesthatrock, 
 That I advise your shunning. 
 
 Enter Cardinal Wolsey, {/he Purse borne before 
 hmi,) certain oj the Guard, and two Secretaries 
 vith Pa/,ers. The Cardinal in hi.i pa.^sage 
 fixeth tit-i eye on Bitkixoiiam, and BuuiaNUHAM 
 on him, both full if disdain. 
 
 IFo/. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor ! hal 
 Where s his examination ? 
 
 I Seer. Here, so please you. 
 
 fVol. Is he in person ready ? 
 
 \,^^'^''- „ Ay, please your grace. 
 
 tVol. Well, we shall then know more ; and Buck- 
 ingham 
 Shall lessen this big look. 
 
 „ , .. Exeunt WohSEY. and Train. 
 
 Buck. This butchers cur^ is venom-moulh'd. 
 and 1 
 Have not the power to muzzle him : therefore best 
 Not wake him in his .slumber. A beggar's book 
 Out-worths a noble's blood. 
 
 . ^'"r. ^ What, are you chafed ? 
 
 Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance only, 
 Which your disease requires. 
 
 Buck. I read in his looks 
 
 Matter against me; and his eye revil'd 
 Me, as his abject object: at this instant 
 He bores^ me with some trick: He's gone to the 
 
 king; 
 1 11 follow, and out-stare him. 
 . A''":- Stay, my lord. 
 
 And let your reason with your clioler question 
 What tis you go about; To climb steep lulls 
 Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 
 A full-hot horse ; who being allow'd his way. 
 Sell-mettle tires him. Not a man in England 
 Can advise me like you ; be to yourself 
 As you would to your friend. 
 . -Bi'cA:. I'll to Ihe king, 
 
 And trom a mouth of honor quite cry down 
 This Ipswich Icllow's insolence ; or proclaim, 
 There's dillerence in no persons. 
 
 ^'»-- Beadvis'd: 
 
 Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 
 That it do singe yourself; We may out-run, 
 By violent swiftness, that pdiich w-e run at. 
 And lose by over-running. Know you not. 
 The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er. 
 In seeming to augment it. wastes it ] Be advis d. 
 I say again, there is no English soul 
 a Conducted. ' Wolsey was the son of a butcher. « Stabs. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 481 
 
 Wore stronger to direct jou than yourself; 
 II' w ith the sap of reason you ^vouid quench, 
 Or ijut allay, the fire of passion. 
 
 Buck. Sir, 
 
 1 am thankful to you : and I'll go alon 
 liy your prescription: — Ijut this top-proud fellow, 
 (VVIiom from the (low of gall I name not, but 
 From sincere motions.) by intelligence. 
 And proofs as clear as ibunts in July, when 
 We see each grain of gravel, I do know 
 To be corrupt and treasonous. 
 Nor. Say not, treasonous. 
 
 Buck. To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch 
 as strong 
 As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox. 
 Or woll, or both, (for he is equal ravenous, 
 As he is subtle; and as prone to niischieti 
 As able to pe]lt>rm it; his mind and place 
 liilecling one another, yea, reciprocally,) 
 Only to show his pomji as well in France 
 As here at home, suggests^ the king our master 
 To this last costly treaty, the interview. 
 That swallow'd so much treasure, and, like a glass, 
 Did break i' the rinsing. 
 N'lir. 'Faith, and so it did. 
 
 Buck. Pray, give mc lavor, sir. Tins cunning 
 cardinal 
 The articles of the combination drew, 
 As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified. 
 As he cried. Thus let be : to as much end. 
 As give a crutch to the dead: But our count-car- 
 dinal 
 Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey, 
 Who cannot err, he did it. Now this lollows, 
 (Which, as 1 take it, is a kind of puppy 
 To the old d.im, treason.)— Charles the emperor, 
 Under pretence to see the queen his aunt, 
 (For 'twas indeed, his color; but he came 
 To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation: 
 His lears were, that the interview, betwixt 
 Kngland and France, might, through their amity, 
 Breed him some prejudice; for from tins league 
 I'ecp'd arms that menaced him : He luivily 
 Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow, — 
 Which I do well; lor, 1 am sure, the emperor 
 raid ere heproinis'd; whereby liissuitw<as granted, 
 Ere it was ask'd;— but when the way was made. 
 And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd; — 
 That he would please to alter the king's course 
 And break the alinesaid peace. Let the king know, 
 (As soon he shall by mc,) that thus the cardinal 
 Does buy and sell his honor as he pleases, 
 And for his own advantage. 
 
 Ayr. I am son-y 
 
 To hear this of him; and could wish, he were 
 Something mistaken iii't. 
 
 Buck. No, not a syllable ; 
 
 1 do I'rronounce him in that very shape. 
 He shall appear in proof. 
 
 Enfcr Branpox ; o 8ergeant-at-Arms heforc him, 
 and two or three of the Guunl. 
 
 Bran. Your ollice, sergeant ; execute it. 
 
 &'"■«■• Sir, 
 
 My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl 
 01 Herelord. Stallord, and Northampton, I 
 Arrest thee of high treason, in the name 
 Of our most sovereign king. 
 
 Buck. Lo you, my lord, 
 
 The net has liillen upon me; I shall perish 
 Under device and practice.6 
 
 Bran. X am sorry 
 
 To see you ta en from liberty, to look on 
 The business present: 'Tis his highness' pleasure 
 1 on shall to the Tower. 
 
 Buck. It will help me nothing. 
 
 To plead min 5 innocence; for that dye is on me. 
 Which makes my whitest part black. The will of 
 
 hea^'( ii 
 Be done in this and all things!— I obey.— 
 my lord Aberga'iiy, fare you well. 
 
 Bran. Nay, he nrust bear you company:— The 
 ,king [To Abeuqavesny. 
 
 Is pleas d, you shall to the Tower, till you know 
 How he determines further. 
 
 Aber. As the duke said. 
 
 The will of heaven be done, and the king's plea- 
 sure 
 By me obey'd. 
 
 • Excites. « Unfair straLigem. 
 
 31 
 
 Bran. Here is a warrant from 
 
 The king, to attacli lord Montaciite; and the bodies 
 Of the duke's conlessor, John de la Court, 
 One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, — 
 
 Buck. So, so; 
 
 These are the limbs of tl'.e plot: no more, I hope. 
 
 Bran. A monk o' the Charlreiix. 
 
 Buck. O, Nicholas Hopkins 1 
 
 Bran. He. 
 
 Buck. My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great car- 
 dinal 
 Hath show'd him gold: my life is spann'd already; 
 I am the shadow of poor Buckingham; 
 Wliose figure even this instant cloud puts on. 
 By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell. 
 
 [Kxeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— The Council-chamber. 
 Cornets. Enter Kint. IIkxuv, CAnnixAL Wol- 
 sey, the Lorils {if the Council, Sin Thomas 
 LovKLL. Officers and Attendants. The Ki.SQ 
 enters, leaning on the Cardinal's shouliler. 
 K. Hen. My life itself and the best heart of it. 
 Thanks you lor this great care: I stood i' the level 
 Of a full-charged conlederacy, and give thanks 
 To you that chok'd it. — Let be call'd belbrc us 
 ■That gentleman of Buckingham's: in person 
 ril hear him his conlessions justify; 
 And point by point the trciisons of his master 
 He shall again relate. 
 
 The KiXfi takes his Stale. The iMrds of tlie Council 
 take their several Bluces. The CAmny.\L places- 
 himself under ttie King's ftf/, oh hisrightSide. 
 A NoU!eu-ilhin,cr;/inf;, Room for the Queen. Enter 
 the QiEEX, uj/ifc'rf //;/ the Dvkes of Nor- 
 folk and Siffolk: ihe kneeh. The Kiso 
 riseth from hi% Stale, takes her up, kisses, and 
 placeth her by him. 
 Q.Kalh. N.ay, wc must longer kneel; I ,"im a 
 
 suitor. 
 K. Hen. Ari.se, and take place by us: Half your 
 suit 
 Never name to us ; you have half our power; 
 The other moiety, ere you ask, is given ; 
 Repeat your will, and take it. 
 
 y. Kuth. Thank your majesty. 
 
 That you would love yourself; and, in that love, 
 Not unconsider'd leave your honor, nor 
 The dignity of your om'ce, is the point 
 Of my petition. 
 A'. 7/(7). Lady mine, proceed. 
 
 Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few. 
 And those of true condition, that your subjects 
 Are in great grievance: there hath been commis- 
 sions 
 Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the heart 
 Of all their loyalties : — wherein, although, 
 My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches 
 Most biiterly on you, as putter-on 
 111 ihi-se exactions, yet the king our master 
 (Whose honor Heaven shield from soil!) even he 
 
 escapes not 
 Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks 
 The sides of loyalty, and almost appears, 
 In loud rebellion. 
 
 AVjr. Not almost appears 
 
 It doth appear; for, upon these taxations. 
 The clothiers all, not able to maintain 
 The many to them 'longing, liave put off' 
 The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who. 
 Unlit Hir other life, compell'd by hunger 
 And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
 Daring the event to the teeth, are all in u])roar. 
 And danger serves among them. 
 
 A', lien. Taxation! 
 
 Wherein ? and what taxation 1 — My lord cardinal, 
 Vou that are blamed f>r it alike with us. 
 Know you of this taxation ! 
 
 IVol. Please you, sir, 
 
 I know but of a single part, in aught 
 Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file 
 Where others tell steps with me.' 
 
 y. Kath. No, my lord. 
 
 You know no more than others: but you frame 
 Things that are known alike; which are not whole- 
 some 
 Tothosewhich would not know them, and yet must 
 1 1 am ouly oue among the other counsellors. 
 
482 
 
 KING HENRY VIIL 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Perforce be their acqaaiutance. These exactions, 
 Whereof ray sovereijiii would have note, they are 
 Most pestilent to the hearing; and to bear them, 
 The back is saeiihce to the load. .They say. 
 They are devis'd by you ; or else you suiter 
 Too haid an exclamation. 
 
 A'. }[en. Still exaction! 
 
 Tlie nature of it 1 In what kind, let's Juiow, 
 Is this exaction 1 
 
 Q. Kaih. I am much too venturous 
 
 In Lempting of your patience; but am boIdenM 
 Under your promis'd pardon. The subject's grief 
 Comes through commissions, which compel from 
 
 each 
 The sixth part of his substance, to be levied 
 AVithoLit delay ; and the pretence for this 
 Is named, your wars in France: This makes bold 
 
 mouths: 
 Tonguesspitthcirdutiesout.andcold hearts freeze 
 Allegiance in them ; tlicir curses now 
 Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass, 
 Tliat tructable obedioncs is a slave 
 To each incensed will. I would, your highness 
 Would give it quick consideration, for 
 There is no primer^ business. 
 
 A'. Hen. By my life, 
 
 This \A against our pleasure. 
 
 Wot. And for me, 
 
 I have no farther gone in this, than by 
 A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but 
 By learned approbation of the judges. 
 If 1 am traduced by tongues, vv-hieh neither know 
 My lacuitics, nor person, yet will be 
 Tlie chronicles of my doiu^, — let me say, 
 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake^ 
 TIuU virtue must go through. We must not stint 
 Our necessary actions, in the fear 
 To cope' malicious censurers; whichever. 
 As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow 
 That is new trimm'd; but benelit no further 
 Than vainly longing. AV'^hat we ofl do best, 
 By sick interpreters, once- weak ones, is 
 Kot ours, or not allow'd ;3 what worst, as ofl. 
 Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
 For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
 In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at. 
 We should take root licre where we sit, or sit 
 State statues only. 
 
 A', ketj. Things done well, 
 
 And with a care, exempt themselves from fear ; 
 Tbnigs done without example, in their issue 
 Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent 
 (tf this commission ? I believe, not any. 
 We must not rend our subjects from our laws, 
 And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? 
 A trembling contribution ! Why, we take, 
 From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber; 
 And though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, 
 The atr will drink the sap. To every couniy, 
 Where this is questioned, send our le'tters, with . 
 Free pardon to each man that has denied 
 The tbrce of this commission: Pray, look to't; 
 1 iiut it to your care. 
 
 Wot. A word with you. {To the Secretary. 
 
 Let there be letters writ to every shire. 
 Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd com.- 
 
 mons 
 Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd, 
 Tb.it. through our intercession, this revokement 
 And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you 
 Further in the proceeding. \_Exit Secretary. 
 
 Eater Surveyor. 
 
 Q. Kaih. I am sorry that the duke of Buckingham 
 Is run in your displeasure. 
 
 K. ihn. It grieves many : 
 
 Tlie >;entleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker, 
 To nature none more bound ; his training such. 
 That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, 
 And never seek for aid out of himself. 
 Yet see 
 
 When these so noble benefits shall prove 
 Not well dispos'd,the mind growing once corrupt, 
 They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly 
 Tlian ever they were fair. This man so complete. 
 Who was enrolt'd 'nicingst wonders, and when we, 
 Almost with ravisii'd listening, could not tind 
 His hour of speech a minute ; he, my lady, 
 
 « More important. » Thicket of thorus. ' Knt-ount^r. 
 aScuietimo = Approved. 
 
 Hath into monstrous habits put the gracea 
 That once were his, and is become as black 
 As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us: you shall heai 
 (This was his gentleman in trust) of him 
 Things to strike honor sad. — Bid him recount 
 The fore-recited practices; whereof 
 We cannot leel too little, hear loo much. 
 
 IVol. Stand forth; and witJi bold spirit relate 
 what you, 
 Most like a careful subject, have collected, 
 Out of tlie duke of Buckingham. » 
 K. Hen. ^ Speak freely. 
 
 Surih First, it was usual with him, every day 
 It would infect his speech, That if the king 
 Should without issue die, he'd carry it so 
 To make the sceptre his : These very words 
 I have heard him utter to his son-in-law, 
 Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oalh he menaced 
 Revenge upon the cardinal. 
 
 JVoL Please your highness, note 
 
 This dangerous conception in this point. 
 Not friended by his wish, to your high person 
 His will is most malignant ; and it stretches 
 Beyond, you, to your friends. 
 
 Q. Kaih. My learn'd lord cardinal, 
 
 Deliver all with charity. 
 
 K. Hen. Speak on : 
 
 How grounded he his title to the crown, 
 Upon our fail 1 to this point hast thou heard him 
 At any time speak aught 1 
 
 Hiirv. He was brought to this 
 
 By a vain prophecy of Nicliolas Hopkins. 
 A'. Hen. What was that Hopkins 1 
 Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar. 
 
 His confessor, who fed him every minute 
 With words of sovereignty. 
 K. Hen. How know'st Ihou this 1 
 
 .S(^rr.NotIongbeforeyourhighnesssiied to France, 
 The duke being at the llose,-* within tlie parish 
 Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand 
 What was the speech amongst the Londoners 
 Concerning the French journey : I replied. 
 Men tear'd, the French wouUl prove perfidious, 
 To the king's danger. Presently the duke 
 Said, 'Tvvas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted, 
 'Twould prove the verity of certain words 
 Spoke by a holy monk; That oft, .says he. 
 Hath .sent to me, ivishing me io permit 
 John dt la Court, my chaplain, a chtnce hour 
 To hear from him a matter <f .wnie moment : 
 IVlwm after iiniter the C0f7ff:''swn\s seal 
 He si>leninhj had sworn, tliai wtiat he spoke. 
 My chaplain to no creature living, hut 
 To me, should utter, ivith demure ctmfidence 
 Thus pausing! y ensud, — Neither the'king, nor his 
 
 heirs J 
 [Tell ynu the duke,) shall prosper : bid him sir^iue 
 To gain the love of the commonalty; tlie duke 
 Shall govern England. 
 
 Q. Kaih. If I know yon well. 
 
 You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office 
 On the complaint o' the tenants: Take good heed, 
 You charge not in your spleen a noble person, 
 And spoil your nobler soul ! I say, take heed ; 
 Yes, heartily beseech you. 
 
 A". Hen. Let him on : — 
 
 Go forward. 
 
 Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. 
 
 I told my lord the duke. By the devil's illusions 
 The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twa^ dan 
 
 gerous for him, 
 To ruminate on this so far, until 
 It forged him some design, which, being believ'd. 
 It was much like to do: He auswer'd. Tush.' 
 If can do me no damage: adding turlher. 
 That, had the king in his last sickness lall'd. 
 The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads 
 Sliould have gone olL 
 A'. Hen. Ha ! what, so rank ? Ah, ha ! 
 
 There's mischief in this man: Canst thou say 
 
 further ] 
 Suri'. I can, my liege. 
 K. Hen. Proceed. 
 
 Surv. • Being at Greenwich, 
 
 Alter your highness had reprov'd the duke 
 About sir William Blomer, — 
 
 AT. Hen. I remember. 
 
 Of such a time : — being my servant sworn. 
 The duke retain'd him bis.— But ou; What hence ^ 
 « Now Merchant Taylors' Schocl. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 483 
 
 Surv. /^. quoth he, Tfor fhvt had heen commitfed. 
 As fo the Tower. I 'h'ni^kt,—[ tvou/d fuive plat/'d 
 The part mij father mcaut fo act upon 
 The usurper' RWuird: wko, being at Salisbury, 
 Made sutl to come in his presence ; ivhichifgrantedj 
 As he made semhiance of kis dutt/, would 
 Have put his knife into kirn. 
 
 K. Hen. A giant traitor ! 
 
 W'd. Now, madam, may his highness live in 
 freedom, 
 And this man out of prison ! 
 
 Q. Kafh. God mend all ! 
 
 K.Htn. There's something more would out of 
 tliee; What say'st ] 
 
 Surv. After — the duke Ais father, — with the 
 knife,— 
 He stretch d him, and, with one hand on his da?:ser, 
 Another spread on his hreast. mounting his eyes, 
 He did di~;chars:e a horrihle oath whose tenor 
 Was, — Were he evil used, he would out-go 
 His tiather, by as much as a performance 
 Does an in-esolutc purpose. 
 
 K. Hen. There's his period, 
 
 To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd ; 
 Call him to prcseni trial : if he may 
 Find mercy in the law, 'tis his ; if "none, 
 Let him not scek't of us: By day and night. 
 He's traitor to the lieight. [Exeunt. 
 
 SC'fcN'E III.— /I Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter the Lord Chainherlain, and Lord Sands. 
 
 Cham. Is it possible, the spells of France should 
 juggle 
 Men into such strange mysteries : 
 
 Sands. New customs, 
 
 Though they he never so ridiculous, 
 Na_v, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 
 
 Cham. As far as 1 see, all the good our English 
 Have got by the late voyage, is but merely 
 A tit' or two o'the face; but they are shrewd ones; 
 For when they hold them, you would swear directly 
 Their very noses had lieeu counsellors 
 To Pepin, or Clothatiu^, they keep state so 
 
 Stands. They have at! new legs, and lame ones ; 
 one would take it, 
 Tiiat never saw them pace before, the spavin, 
 A springhalt^ reign'd among them. 
 
 Cham. Death ! my lord, 
 
 Their clothes are atter such a pagan cut too, 
 Tiiat, sure, they have worn out Christendom. How 
 
 now ? 
 What news, sir Thomas LoveK 1 
 
 Enter Sir Thomas Lovell. 
 
 Lov, 'Faith, my lord, 
 
 I hear of none but the new proclamation 
 That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. 
 
 Cham. What is't for ? 
 
 Lor. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, 
 Thiit till the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. 
 
 Cliam. I am glad, 'tis there; now 1 would pray 
 our nionsieurs 
 To lliink an English courtier may be wise, 
 And never see the Louvre.'^ 
 
 Lov. They must either 
 
 (For so run the conditions) leave these remnants 
 Of tool, and leather, that they got in France, 
 With all their honorable points of ignorance, 
 Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fireworks; 
 Abusing better men than they can be. 
 Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean 
 The faith they have iu tennis, and tall stockings. 
 Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, 
 And understand again like honest men; 
 Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it, 
 Tliey may, cum privHegio,^ wear away 
 The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. 
 
 Sands. 'Tis time to give them physic, their dis- 
 eases 
 Are grown so catching. 
 
 Cham. What a loss our ladies 
 
 Will have of these trim vajiities ! 
 
 Lov. Ay, marry, 
 
 There will be woe indeed. lords; thesly whoresons 
 Have got a speedy trick to lay down ladies; 
 A French song, and a tiddle, has no fellow. 
 
 Sands. The "devil fiddle them ! I am glad, they're 
 going ; 
 
 » Grimace. « DisiMse incident to horses. 
 
 ■> A palace at Paiia. s ^VitU authority. 
 
 (For, sure, there's no converting of them;) now 
 
 An lionest country lord, as I am, beaten 
 
 A long time out of play, may bring his plam- 
 
 song. 
 And have an hour of hearing ; and, by'r-Iady, 
 Held current music too. 
 
 Cham. Well said, lord Sands , 
 
 Your colt s tooth is not cast yet. 
 
 Sands. No, my lord ; 
 
 Nor shall not, while I have a stump. 
 
 Cham. Sir Thomas, 
 
 Whither were you a going 1 
 
 ^w. To the cardinal's, 
 
 Your lordship is a guest too. 
 
 Cham. o, 'tis true: 
 
 This night he makes a supper, and a great one, 
 To many lords and ladies; there will be 
 The beauty of this kingdom. Til assure you. 
 
 Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind 
 indeed, 
 A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; 
 His dews fall everywhere. 
 
 Cham. No doubt, he's noble ; 
 
 He had a black mouth, that said other of him. 
 
 Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal; 
 in him 
 Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine ; 
 Men of his way should be most liberal, 
 They are set here for examples. 
 . Cham. True, they are so; 
 
 But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; 
 your lordship shall along :— Come, good sir Thomas 
 We shall be late else: which I would not be, 
 P'or I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildfordj 
 This night to be comptrollers. 
 
 Sands. I am your lordship's. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lY.—The Prcsence-Chamber in York- 
 Place. 
 
 Hauthoys. A small Table under a State for ttit 
 Cardinal, rt longer Table frr the Guests, Enter 
 at one d/Ktr Anne Bullion, and divers Lords, 
 Ladies, «;/(/ Gentlewomen, as Guests; at another 
 Door, enter Siit Henuy Guildford. 
 Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace 
 Salutes ye all : This night he dedicates 
 To fair content, and you : none here, he hopes, 
 In all this no!)le bevy," has brought with her 
 One care abroad ; he would have all as merry 
 As tirsl-good company, good wine, good welcome. 
 
 Can make good ])eopIe O, my lord, you are 
 
 lardy ; 
 
 Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, an-i Sir 
 
 Thomas Lovell. 
 The very thought of this foir company 
 Clapp'd wings to me. 
 
 Cham. Y"u are young, sir Harry Guildford. 
 
 Sands. SirTiiomas Lovell, had the cardinal 
 But half my lay-tliouglits in him, some of these 
 Should find a running banquet ere they rested, 
 I think, would better please them : By my life. 
 They are a sweet society of fair ones. 
 
 Lov. O, that your lordship were but now con 
 fessor 
 To one or two of these ! 
 
 Sands. I would I were ; 
 
 They should find easy penance. 
 
 Lfn\ 'Faith, how easy ! 
 
 Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford it. 
 
 Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit ? Sir 
 Harry, 
 Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this: 
 His grace is ent'ring. — Nay. you must not freeze; 
 Two women placed together'makescold weather: — 
 My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking; 
 Pray, sit between these ladies. 
 
 Sands. By my faith. 
 
 And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet 
 ladies ; 
 
 [Seats himself hetiveen Asxe BrtLEN and 
 another Lady. 
 If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; 
 I had it from my father. 
 Anne. Was he mad, sir? 
 
 • Company. 
 
484 
 
 KING HENEY YIII. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Sands, 0, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too: 
 But he would bite none ; just as I do now. 
 He would kissyou twenty witliabrealh. [Kisses her. 
 
 Cham. Well said, my lord. — 
 
 So. now you are fairly seated. — Gentlemen, 
 The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies 
 pass away frowning. 
 
 Sanris. For my little cure, 
 
 Let me alone. 
 
 Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Vfoi.?,^^, attended; 
 and takes his Stale. 
 
 Wol. You are welcome, my fair guests; that 
 noble lady, 
 Or gentleman, that is not freely merry. 
 Is not my friend: This, to conlirm my welcome; 
 And to you all good health. [Drinlis. 
 
 Sands. Your grace is noble ; — 
 
 Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, 
 And save me so much talking. 
 
 Wol. My lord Sands, 
 
 I am beholden to you : cheer your neighbors.— 
 Ladies, you are not merry ; — Gentlemen, 
 Whose fault is this 1 
 
 Sands. The red wine first must rise 
 
 In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then we shall have 
 
 them 
 Talk us to silence, 
 
 Anne. You are a merry gamester, 
 
 My lord Sands. 
 
 Sands. Yes, if I make my play.' 
 
 Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam. 
 For 'tis to such a thing,— 
 
 Anne. You cannot show me. 
 
 Sands. I told your crace, they would talk anon. 
 [Drum and Trumpets within : Chambers- 
 discharged. 
 
 Wfd. What's that? 
 
 Cham. Look out there, some of you. 
 
 \Exii a Servant. 
 
 Wot. What wanlike voice ! 
 
 And to what end is this ? — Nay, ladies, fear not; 
 liy all the laws of war you are privileged. 
 
 Re-enter Servant. 
 Cham. How now ] what is't 1 
 Serv. A noble troop of strangers ; 
 
 For so they seem: they have left their barge, and 
 
 landed ; 
 And hither make, as great ambassadors 
 From tbreign princes, 
 
 Wol. Good lord chamberlain. 
 
 Go, give them welcome, you can speak the French 
 
 tongue; 
 And. pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them 
 Into our presence, where this Iieaven of beauty 
 Shall shine at full upon them: — Some attend him. — 
 [Exit Chamberlain, attended. All arise, 
 and Tables removed. 
 You have nowa broken banquet: but we'll mend it. 
 A good digestion to you all : and. once more, 
 I shower a welcome on you ; — Welcome all. 
 
 Hautboys. Enter the Kixr,, and twelve others, as 
 JMask^ers, habited like Shepherds, ivifh sixteen 
 Torch-bearers ; ushered by the Lord Chaml)erlain. 
 They pass directly before the Cardinal, and 
 gracefully salute him. 
 
 A noble company I what arc their pleasures ? 
 
 Cham. Because they speak nc English, thus they 
 pray'd 
 To tell your grace: — That, having heard by fame 
 Of this sn noble and so fair assembly 
 TJiis night to meet here, they could do no less. 
 Out of the great respect they hear to beauty. 
 But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct, 
 Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat 
 An hour of revels with thein. 
 
 JVol. Say. lord chamberlain, 
 
 They have done my poor house grace; for which I 
 
 pay them 
 A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea- 
 sures. 
 [Ladies chosen for the Dance. The KiNQ 
 chooses Anne Bullen. 
 
 A". Hen. The fairest hand 1 ever touched ! 
 beauty, 
 Till now I never knew thee. [Music. Dance* 
 
 Wol. My lord, ■ 
 
 Chum. Your grace 1 
 
 Wol. Pray tell them thus much from me: 
 
 There should be one amongst them, by his person, 
 More worthy this place than myself: to whom, 
 If 1 but knew him, with my love and duty 
 I would surrender it. 
 
 Chant, I will, my lord. 
 
 [Cham, goes to the Company, and 
 returns, 
 
 Wol. What say they 1 
 
 Cham. Such a one, they all confess, 
 
 There is indeed; which they would have your grace 
 Find out, and he will take it. 
 
 Wol. Let me see, then. — [Comes from his State. 
 By a!! your good leave, geijtlemen ; — Here I'll make 
 Mv royal choice. 
 
 K. Hen. You have found him, cardinal: 
 
 [Unmasking. 
 You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord : 
 You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal, 
 I should judge now unhappily.^ 
 
 Wol. I am glad 
 
 Your grace is grown so pleasant. 
 
 A'. Hen. My lord chamberlain, 
 
 Pr'ythee, come hither: Wiiat fair lady's that 1 
 
 Cham. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bul- 
 len's daughter, 
 The viscount Rochlbrt, one of her highness' women. 
 
 K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one. — 
 Sweetheart, 
 I were unmannerly to take you out, 
 And not to kiss you. — A health, gentlemen, 
 Let it go round. 
 
 U'ot. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready 
 r the privy chamber? 
 
 Lov. Yes, my lord, 
 
 Jl'ot. Your grace, 
 
 I fear with dancing is a little heated. 
 
 A". Hen. I fear too much. 
 
 Wol. Thcre^ fresher air, my lord. 
 
 In the next chamber. 
 
 K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one. — Sweet 
 partner, 
 f must not yet forsake you : Let's be merry : — 
 Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths 
 To drink to these lair ladies, and a measure* 
 To lead them once again ; and then let's dream 
 Who's best in favor. — Let the music knock it. 
 
 [Exeuntf with Tru?npets. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 SCENE I.— .4 Street. 
 Enter two Gentlemen, meeting. 
 
 1 Gent. Whither away so fa.st1 
 
 2 Cent. O. — God save you ! 
 Even to the hall, to hear what shall become 
 
 Of ihe great duke of Buckingham. 
 
 1 Gent. I'll save you 
 That labor, sir. All's now done, but Ihe ceremony 
 Of bringing back the prisoner. 
 
 2 Gent. Were you there? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. 
 
 2 Gent. Pray speak, what has happen'd? 
 ' Chooso my game. ^ Small cauuon. 
 
 1 Gent. You may guess quickly what. 
 
 2 Gent. Is he found guilty? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it. 
 
 2 Gent. I am sorry for't. 
 
 1 Gent. So are a number more. 
 
 2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it f 
 
 1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke 
 Came to the bar; where, to his accusations. 
 He pleaded still not guilty, and alleged 
 Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. 
 The king's attorney, on the contrary. 
 Urged on the exaniinations, proofs, confessions. 
 Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired 
 s MischieYously. * Dane*. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 KING HENT^Y VIII. 
 
 485 
 
 To liiin brouirht.ui/'a voce, to his face: 
 At wl.icli ajijiL'ar'ii at;ainst him, his surveyor; 
 Sit Cilberl I'l-ck, liis chancellor; antl John Court, 
 Ci'Mii-'-or Up Inm : with thai devil-monk, 
 Hopkins, that made this mischief. 
 
 2 Gent. That was he 
 
 Tlia! il-d him with his prophecies! 
 
 1 G€7if, The same. 
 All yiicsc accused liim strongly; which he fain 
 \Vo Jld have Hung from him, but, indeed, lie could 
 
 not : 
 And so his peers, upon this evidence. 
 Have lound him fiuiltv of Jii^h treason. Much 
 lie spoke, and learnedly, for life : but all 
 Was oititur pitied in him, or forj^otien. 
 
 2 (ifnf. Afior all this, how did lie hear himself? 
 
 1 Gtiit. When he was brought again to the bar, — 
 
 to iiear 
 His knell rung out, his judgment, — he was stirr'd 
 With such an agony, he sweat extremely, 
 Ai;d something spoke in choler, ill and hasty: 
 But he f.'U to iiiniself again, and, sweetly, 
 111 all the rest sliowM a most noble patience. 
 
 2 Gcitf. 1 do not tliink he fears death. 
 
 1 Gnif. Sure, he does not, 
 He never was so womanish; the cause 
 
 He may a little grieve at. 
 
 2 G€7it. Certanily, 
 The cardinal is the end of tJiis. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis likely. 
 By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder, 
 Then Deputy of Ireland; who remov'd. 
 
 Earl Surrey was seut thither, and in liaste too, 
 Lc&t he should help his father. 
 
 2 Gerif. TJiat trick of state 
 Was a deep envious one. 
 
 1 Gent. At his return, 
 
 Ko doubt, he will requite it. This is noted, 
 And generally; whoever the king favors. 
 The c^irdinal instantly will hnd employment, 
 And lar enough from court too. 
 
 2 Getit. All the commons 
 Hate him perniciously, and o' my conscience. 
 Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much 
 They love, and dote on; call him, bounteous Buck- 
 ingham, 
 
 The Hiirror ol all courtesy;— 
 
 1 Gent, Stay there, sir. 
 And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. 
 
 Enter Buckixgiiam from his Arrai^nntcuf ; Tip- 
 staves before him, the Axe with the J^'fge to- 
 wards hint; Halberds on eacti Side; tuith him 
 Sir Thomas Luvell, Siu Nicholas Vaux, Siu 
 William Sands, and co/nm&n People. 
 
 2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him. 
 Buck. AH good people, 
 
 You tiiat thus far have come to pity me, 
 Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. 
 I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, 
 And by that name must die; yet, heaven bcarwit- 
 
 11 ess. 
 And, ill iiave a conscience, let it sink me, 
 Kven as the axe lalls, if I be not faithful I 
 The law I bear no malice for my death. 
 It has done, upon the premises, but justice: 
 But those that sought it, 1 could wisli more Chris- 
 tians: 
 Be what ihey will, I heartily forgive them : 
 Yet let thcin look they glory not in mischiet, 
 Nor build Iheir evils on the graves of great men ; 
 For then my guiltless blood must cry against them. 
 For furtlier life in this world I ne'er hope, 
 Nor will 1 sue, although the king have mercies 
 More than I dare make Jiiults. Vou few that lovM 
 
 me. 
 And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, 
 His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave 
 Is only bitter to him, onlj' dying, 
 Go, with ine, like good angels, to my end; 
 And, as the long divorce of steel falls on mc, 
 Make of your prayers one sweet sacritice, 
 And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on, o* God's 
 name. 
 Lov. 1 do het^eccli your grace, for charity, 
 If ever any malice in your heart 
 Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. 
 Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell. I as free forgive you, 
 As I would be forgiven: I forgive all; 
 There cannot be tliose numberless ollenees 
 
 'Gainst me, I can't take pence with: no black envy 
 Shall make my grnve.— Commend me to his t;race; 
 And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him. 
 ■\'ou met him hair in heaven : my vows and prayers 
 Yet arc the king's; and, till my soul forsake nie, 
 Shall cry Ibr blessings on him : May he live 
 Longer than I have time to tell his years! 
 Ever beiovM. and loving, may liis ride be ! 
 And. wlien old time shall lead hini to his end. 
 Goodness and ho fill up one monument ! 
 
 L<n\To the waterside I must conduct your grace; 
 Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux, 
 Who undertakes you to your end. 
 
 Vaux, Prepare there, 
 
 The duke is coming : see, the barge be ready ; 
 And tit it with such lurniture, as suits 
 The greatness of his person. 
 
 Buck, Nay, sir Nicholas, 
 
 Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me. 
 When I came hither, I was lord high constable, 
 And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward 
 
 Bohvm : 
 Yet I am richer than my base accusers. 
 That never knewMvhat truth meant: I now seal it; 
 And with that blood will make them one day 
 
 groan for't. 
 My noble lather. Henry of Buckingham, 
 Who lirst rais'd head against usurping Richard, 
 Flying for succor to his servant Banister, 
 Being distress'd, was by that wretch bctrayM, 
 And w'ithout trial tell ; God's peace be with hira ! 
 lienry the Si-venth succeeding, truly pitying 
 My lather's loss, like a most royal prince, 
 Bestor'd mc to my honors, and. out of ruins, * 
 Made my name once more noI)le. Now his son, 
 Henry the Eighth, life, honor, name, and all 
 That made mc huppy. at one stroke has taken 
 For ever from the world. I had my trial. 
 And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me 
 A little happier than my wretched father; 
 Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: — Both 
 Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most; 
 A most uimatural and faithless service ! 
 Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear me, 
 This from a dying man receive as certain ; 
 Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels. 
 Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make friends, 
 And give your heart-s to, when they once perceive 
 The least "rub in your fortunes, fall away 
 Like water I'rom ye, never found again 
 But where they mean to sink ye. All good people. 
 Pray for me ! 1 must now forsake ye ; the last liour 
 Of my long weary life is come upon me. 
 Farewell: 
 
 And when you would say something that is sad. 
 Speak how I fell. — I have done; and God forgive 
 me ! [Exeunt Bt'CKiXGiiAM and Train. 
 
 1 Gent. O, this is full of pity!— Sir, it calls, 
 I fear, too many curses on their heads, 
 That were the authors. 
 
 2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless, 
 'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling 
 Of an ensuing evil, if it fall. 
 
 Greater than this. 
 
 1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! 
 Where may it be 7 you do not doubt my faith, sir ! 
 
 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require 
 A strong faith to conceal it. 
 
 1 Gent, Let me ha'-e it; 
 I do not talk much. 
 
 2 Gent. I am confident; 
 
 You shall, sir: Did you not of late days hear 
 A buzzing, of a separation 
 Between the king and Katharine 1 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, but it held not ; 
 For when the king once heard it, out of anger 
 
 He sent command to the lord mayor straight 
 To stop (he rumor, and allay those tongues 
 That durst disperse it. 
 
 2 Ge?it. But that slander, sir. 
 Is tbund a truth now: for it grows again 
 Fresher than e'er it was ; and held lor certain. 
 The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal. 
 Or some about him near, have, out of malice 
 
 To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple 
 That will undo her: To confirm this too. 
 Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately; 
 As all think, lor this business. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal; 
 
 And merely to revenge him on the emperor, 
 
486 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 For not bestowing on him, at his asliing. 
 The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd. 
 
 2 Gent. I thinlc, you have hit the mark : but is t 
 not cruel. 
 That she should feel the smart of this 1 The cardinal 
 Will have his will, and she must liiU. 
 
 1 Cent. 'Tiswoful. 
 
 Wc are too open here to argue this ; 
 Let's think in private more. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— An Ante-chamber in the Palace. 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a Letter. 
 Cham. Mij lord, — The hnrses your iunlship sent 
 fur, with all- the care 1 had, I saw well chosen, rid- 
 den, and. furnished. Theij were yuung and hand- 
 suinc ; and (if the best breed in the north. When 
 they were ready to set out fur Ltmdun, a man of 
 my lord cardinal's, by commissu/n, and main 
 2Mwer, took 'em from nie ; with this reiUiun,—His 
 master would be served before a subject, if not 
 before the king: which stojip'd our ntoullis, sir. 
 I tear, lie will, indeed ; Well, let him have them : 
 Ho will have all, 1 think. 
 
 Enter the Dl'kes of NonFOLK and Suffolk. 
 Nor. Well met, my good 
 
 Lord chamberlain. 
 
 Chum. Good Jay to both your graces. 
 
 Suf. How is the king employ 'd ? 
 Cham. I left him private, 
 
 Full of sad thoughts and troubles. 
 Kor. What's the cause? 
 
 Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's 
 wile 
 Has crept too near his conscience. 
 
 Suf. No, his conscience 
 
 Has crept too near another lady. 
 
 Nor. 'Tis so ; 
 
 This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal : 
 That blind priest, like the eldest son of lortune. 
 Turns what he lists. The king will know him one 
 day. 
 Suf. Pray God, he do! he'll never know him- 
 self else. 
 Nor. How holily he works in all liis business ! 
 And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the 
 
 league 
 Between us and the emperor, the queen's great 
 
 nepliew. 
 He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters 
 Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience. 
 Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage: 
 And, out of all these to restore the king. 
 He counsels a divorce: a loss other, 
 That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
 About his neck, yet never lost her lustre : 
 Of her, that loves liini with tliat excellence 
 That angels love good men with; even of her 
 Tiiat, when the greatest stroke of ibrtune falls. 
 Will bless the king: And is not this course pious? 
 Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel ! 'Tis 
 most true. 
 These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 
 
 tliem, 
 And every true heart weeps for't: AM, that dare 
 Look into these aflairs, see this main end. — 
 The French Icing's sister. Heaven will one day open 
 The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon 
 This bold bad man. 
 Suf. And free us from his slavery. 
 
 Nor. We had need pray. 
 And heartily, for our deliverance; 
 (;r this imperious man \vill work us all 
 From princes into pages; all men's honors 
 Lie ill one lump betbre him, to be fashion'd 
 into what pitch he please. 
 
 Suf. For me, my lords, 
 
 I love him not, nor fear him ; there's my creed: 
 .\s I am made without him, so I'll stand. 
 If the king please; his curses and his blessings 
 Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in. 
 1 knew him, and I know him; so I leave him 
 To him, that made him proud, the pope. 
 
 Nor. Let's in ; 
 
 And, with some other liusiness, put the king 
 From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon 
 
 him: — 
 My lord, you'll bear us company 1 
 
 Cham. E.xcuse me ; 
 
 The king hath sent me other-whcre: besides, 
 
 You'll find a most unht time to disturb him: 
 Health to your lordships. 
 Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. 
 
 [Exit Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Norfolk opens a Fold'in g-do(jr. The Ktxo is dis- 
 covered sitting and reading pensively. 
 
 Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted. 
 
 K. Hen. Who is there ? ha ! 
 
 Nor. 'Pray God, he be not angry. 
 
 K. Hen. Who's there, I say ? How dare you 
 thrust yourselves 
 Into my private meditations ? 
 Who am II ha? 
 
 Nui: A gracious king, that pardons all olfences 
 Malice ne'er meant : our breach of duly, this way, 
 Is business of estate; in which, we come 
 To know vour royal pleasure. 
 
 A^ Hen.' You are too bold ; 
 
 Go to; I'll make ye know your times' of business: 
 Is this an hour for temporal alfairs 1 ha ? — 
 
 Enter Wolsey and Campeius. 
 Who's there? ray good lord cardinal?— O my 
 
 Wolsey, 
 The quiet of my wounded conscience. 
 Thou art a cure flt lor a king.— You're welcome, 
 
 [Td Campeius. 
 Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom ; 
 Use us, and it:— My good lord, have great care 
 1 be not found a talker. [To WOLSEY. 
 
 tVol. Sir, you cannot. 
 
 I would your grace would give us but an hour 
 Of private conference. 
 K. Hen. We are busy ; go. 
 
 [To NoKFoLK and Suffolk. 
 Nor. This priest has no pride in him ? 
 Suf. Not to speak of; 
 
 I would not be so sick though,' for his 
 
 P'^"^" ■ i Aside. 
 
 Bui this cannot continue. ' 
 
 Nor. If it do, 
 
 I'll venture one heave at him. 
 Suf. I another. 
 
 [E.veunt Norfolk and Suffolk. 
 IVol. Your grace has given a precedent of wis- 
 dom 
 Above all princes, in committing freely 
 Your scruple to the voice olXhristendom : 
 Who can be angry now? what envy rciicli you ! 
 The Spaniard, tied by blood and favor to her. 
 Must now confess, if they have any goodness, 
 The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 
 1 mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms. 
 Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judg- 
 ment. 
 Invited by your noble self, hath sent 
 One general tongue unto us, this good man. 
 This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius, 
 Whom, once more, I present unto your highness. 
 A'. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms, I bid 
 him welcome. 
 And thank the holy conclave for their loves; 
 They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd 
 for. 
 Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all stran- 
 gers' loves, 
 Y'ou are so noble: To your highness' hand 
 I tender my commission ; by whose virtue, 
 (The court of Rome commanding,)— you, my lord 
 Cardinal of York, are jnin'd with me llieir servant, 
 In the impartial judging of this business. 
 A'. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be 
 acquainted 
 Forthwith, lor what you come; — Where's Garuincr? 
 JVoL I know your majesty has always lov'd her 
 So dear in heart not to deny her that 
 A woman of less place might ask by law. 
 Scholars, allow'd freely to argue lor Iier. 
 A'. Hen. Ay, and the best she shall have ; and my 
 lavor 
 To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal, 
 Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary ; 
 I nhd him a flt fellow. [Exit WoLSEY 
 
 Re-enter Wolsey, !i'i/A Garotner. 
 JVul. Give me your hand : much joy and favor 
 to you ; 
 You are the king's now. 
 
 • So sick as be is prouJ. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING HENEY VIII. 
 
 487 
 
 Gard. But to be commanded 
 
 For ever by your grace, whose hand has raisM me. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. 
 
 {They converse apart. 
 
 Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Face 
 In tins man's place belore him ] 
 
 Wot. Yes, he was. 
 
 Cum. Was he not lield a learned man 1 
 
 Wot. Yes, surely. 
 
 Cain, Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread 
 tln-n 
 F.ven of jourself, lord cardinal. 
 
 IVol. How ! of me ? 
 
 Cam. They will not stick to say you envied him ; 
 A ad, tearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, 
 Ke])t liim atbreij^n man** still ; which so griev'd him, 
 That he ran mad, and died. 
 
 Wot. Heaven's peace be with him ! 
 
 That's christian care enough ; for living niurmurers. 
 There's places of rebuke. He was a tool; 
 For he would needs be virtuous : That good fellow, 
 \t I command him, follows my appointment; 
 I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, 
 We live not to be griped by meaner persons. 
 
 K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen. 
 [Exit Gardiner. 
 The most convenient place that I can think of. 
 For sucJi receipt of learning, is IJlack-Friars ; 
 There ye shall meet about this weighty business: — 
 My Wolsey, see it turnish'd. — O my lord. 
 Would it not grieve an able man, to leave 
 So sweet a bedlellow ! But, conscience, con- 
 science, — 
 0, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III. — An Ante-ctiamher in t/ie Queen's 
 Apartments. 
 Enter AsxE Bullln, and an otd Lady. 
 
 Anne. Not for that neither; — Here's the pang 
 that pinches : 
 His highness having liv'd so long with her: and she 
 So good a lady, that no tongue could ever 
 Pronounce dishonor of her, — by my lile. 
 She never knew harm-doing; — now, al^er 
 So many courses of the sun enlhron'd. 
 Still growing in a majesty and jioiiip, — the which 
 To leave is a thousand-lbkl iiioie bitter, than 
 'Tis sweet at first to acquire, — after this process, 
 To give her the avaunt! it is a pity 
 Would move a monster. 
 
 Old L. Hearts of most hard temper 
 
 Melt and lament for her. 
 
 Anne. 0, God's will ! much belter. 
 
 She ne'er had known ponijt: though it be temporal. 
 Yet. i( that qljarrel," lortune, do divorce 
 It from the bearer, 'tis a sulleraiice, panging 
 As soul and body severing. 
 
 Old L. Alas, poor lady ! 
 
 She's a stranger now again. 
 
 Anne. So much the more 
 
 Must i)ily drop upon her. Verily, 
 1 swear, tis better to be lowly born,. 
 And range with humble livers in content^ 
 Than to be perk'd uj) in a glistering griet, 
 And wear a golden sorrow. 
 
 Old L. Our content 
 
 Is our best having.' 
 
 Anne. By my troth, and maidenhead, 
 
 I would not be a queen. 
 
 Old L. Beshrew ine, I would. 
 
 And venture maidenhead for 't ; and so would you. 
 For ail this spice ot your hypocrisy: 
 Y'ou. that have so liiir parls of woman on you, 
 Have loo a woman's heart ; which ever yet 
 Allected emineijce, wealth, sovereignty; 
 Which, to say south,9 are blessings: and which gift, 
 (Saving your mincing.) the capacity 
 Of your soft cheveril' conscience would receive, 
 If you might please to stretch it. 
 
 Anne. Nay, good troth,— 
 
 Old L. Y'es, troth, and troth, — Y'ou would not 
 be a queen? 
 
 Anne. No, not lor all the riches under heaven. 
 
 Otd L. 'Tis strange, a three-penee bow'd- would 
 hire me. 
 Old as I am, to queen it : But, I pray you, 
 
 « Out of the king's presence. ' Quarreller, 
 
 ■ Pcjsscssioa. » Truth. * Kid-skia. a Crook'd. 
 
 What think you of a duchessi have you limbs 
 To bear that load of title ? 
 
 Anne. No, in truth. 
 
 Otd L. Then you ore weakly made: Pluck oil' a 
 hlUe; " 
 I would not be a young count in your way. 
 For more than t)Iusliing comes to: if your back 
 Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak 
 Kver to get a boy. 
 
 Anne. How you do talk ! 
 I swear again, 1 would not be a queen 
 For all the world. 
 
 Old L. In faith, for little England 
 
 You'd venture an emballing: I myself 
 Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd 
 No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes 
 here ? 
 
 Enter t/ie Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth 
 to know 
 The secret of your confidence I 
 
 Anne. My good lord. 
 
 Not your demand ; it values not your asking : 
 Our mistress' sorrows we were i)itying. 
 
 Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming 
 The action of good women : there is hope, 
 All will be well. 
 
 Anne. Now, I pray God, amen '. 
 
 Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly 
 blessings 
 Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, 
 Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note 's 
 Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty 
 Commends his good opinion to you, and 
 Does purpose honor to you no less llowing 
 Than marcihoness of Pembroke; to which title 
 A thousand pound a year, annual support. 
 Out of his grace he adds. 
 
 Anne. I do not know. 
 
 What kind of my obedience I should lender; 
 More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers 
 Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes 
 More worih llian empty vanities ; yet prayers, and 
 
 wishes. 
 Are all I can return. "Beseech your lordship, 
 Vouchsate to speak my thanks, and my obedience, 
 As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; 
 Whose health, and royalty, I pray lor. 
 
 Cham. Lady, 
 
 I shall not firil to approve the fair conceit^ 
 The king hath of you.— I have pcrus'd her well ; 
 
 [Atide. 
 Beauty and honor in her are so mingled. 
 That they have caught (he king: and who knows yet, 
 But from this Iad\ may proceed a gem. 
 To lighten all this isle !— I'll to the liing. 
 And say, 1 spoke with you. 
 
 Anne. Jly honor'd lord. 
 
 [Exit Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Old L. Why, this it is ; see, see ! 
 I have been begging sixteen years in court, 
 (Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could 
 Come pat betwixt too early and too late. 
 For any suit of pounds: and you, (O liite !) 
 .\ very fresh-lish here, (fye, lye upon 
 Thiscompell'd fortune I) have jour mouth hll'd up. 
 Before you open it. 
 
 Anne. This is strange to me. 
 
 . Old L. How tastes it f is it bitter? forty pence, no. 
 There vvas a huly once, ('tis an old story.) 
 Tliat would not bo a queen, that would she not. 
 For all the mud in Egypt :— Have you heard it ! 
 
 Anne. Come, y ou are pleasant. 
 
 Old L. With your theme, I could 
 
 O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pem- 
 broke ! 
 A thousand jiounds a year! for pure respect; 
 No other obligation : By my life. 
 That promises more thousands : Honor's train 
 Is longer than his foreskin. By this time, 
 I know, your back will bear a duchess; — Say, 
 Are you not stronger than you were ? 
 
 Anne. Good lady. 
 
 Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy. 
 And leave me out on't, 'VVould I had no being, 
 If ihis salute my blood a jot; it faints me. 
 To think what follows. 
 The queen is comfertless, and we forgetful 
 3 OpiuioD. 
 
488 
 
 KING HENRY YIII. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 In our long ab:iencc: Pray, do not deliver 
 WJiMt here you have heard, to her. 
 Old L. What do you think me 1 
 
 [Exeunt* 
 SCENE IV.— .-1 Ball in Black-Friars. 
 Trumpets, Sennets,^ and Cornets. Enter two Ver- 
 pers, with short silver IVanif:; next them, two 
 Scribes, in the habits of Doctors ; after them the 
 Archbishop of Canterbl'rv, atime ; qf'ter him, 
 the B[SHOPS OF Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and 
 Saint Asaph; next itiem, with some small dis- 
 ttince. follows a Gentleman, bearing the Purse, 
 tvUh the great Seal, and a Cardinal^ s Hat ,- then 
 two Priests, bearing each a silrer Cross ; then a 
 Gentleman-Ushor bare-tieadfd, accompanied with 
 a Sergeant-at-Arms bearing a silver Mace ; then 
 . two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver Pillars;'^ 
 after them, siie by side, the two Cardinals, Wul- 
 SEY, and Cami'Eius; two JN'uljlenirn wi/h the 
 Swr/rd and Mace. Then enter the King and 
 Qteen", and thnr Trains. The Kix<; takes place 
 under the Clvthif State; the two Cardinals sit 
 under him as Judges. The Qleen takes place at 
 Sfifjie distance front the Kino. The Bishops place 
 themselves on each side of the Courts in manner 
 of a Consistory ; between them, ike Scribes. The 
 Lords sU ?iext the Bishops. The Crier and the 
 7'est of the Attendants stand in convenient order 
 about the stage, 
 
 Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, 
 Let silence be commanded. 
 
 K. Hen. What's the need ? 
 
 It hath already publicly been read, 
 And on all sides the authority allowM; 
 You may then spare Ihat time. 
 
 iVol. Bc't so : — Proceed. 
 
 Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into 
 
 the court. 
 Crier. Henry king of England, &c. 
 K. Hen. Here. 
 Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come 
 
 into court. 
 Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c. 
 [The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her 
 Clutir, goes about the court, comes to the King. 
 and kneela at his feet ; tfien speaks. 
 Q.Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice; 
 And to bestow your pity on nie; for 
 I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, 
 Born out of your dominions; having here 
 No judge indif!i?reut. nor no more assurance 
 Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, 
 In what have I olfended you? what cause 
 Hath my behavior given to your displeasure, 
 That thus you should proceed to put me otf; 
 And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, 
 I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
 At all times to your will cttntbrinable : 
 Ever in fear to kindle your dislike. 
 Yea, subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry, 
 As I saw it inclin'd. Wlicn was the hour, 
 I ever contradicted your desire, 
 Or made it not mine tool Or which of your friends 
 Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
 He were mine enemy 1 wliat fiiend of mine 
 That had to him denv'd your anger, did I 
 Continue in my liliiug 1 nay, gave notice 
 He was from thence discharg'd 1 Sir, call to mind 
 Tliat I have been your wile, in this obedience, 
 lipward of twenty years, and have been blest 
 With many children by you : If, in the course 
 And process of this time, you can report, 
 And prove it too, against mine honor aught, 
 IVly bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 
 Auaiust your sacred person, in God's name, 
 Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
 Sliut door upon me, and so ^ive me up 
 To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir. 
 The king, your father, was reputed lor 
 A i)nnce most prudent, of an excellent 
 And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand, 
 My father, king of Spain, was rockon'd one 
 Tlie wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many 
 A year before: It is not to be quostion'd 
 Tliat they had galher'il a wise council to them 
 Of every lealm, that did debate this business, 
 
 • Flourish «n poriU'ls. 
 
 6 Ensio'us of diguity c.arrk-d bufore cardiaala 
 
 Who dcem'd our marriage lawful : Wherefore I 
 
 humbly 
 Beseech you. sir, to spare me, till I may 
 Be by my friends in Spain advis'd ; whose counsel 
 I will implore : If not, i' the name of God, 
 Your pleasure be fuihll'd ! 
 
 lyol. You have here, lady, 
 
 (And of your choice.) these reverend fathers; men 
 Of singular integrity and learning, 
 Yea. the elect of the land, who are assembled 
 To plead your cause : It shall be therefore bcc tless,a 
 That longer you desire the court; as well 
 For your own quiet, as to rectify 
 What is unsettled in the king. 
 
 Cam. His grace 
 
 Hath spoken well and justly : Therelbre, madam, 
 It's fit this royal session do proceed ; 
 And that, witliout delay, their arguments 
 Be now produced and heard. 
 
 Q. Katti. Lord cardinal, — 
 
 To you I speak. 
 
 IVol. Your pleasure, madam 7 
 
 Q. Kath. Sir, 
 
 I am about to weep; but, thinking that 
 We are a queen, [or long havedream'd so.) certain 
 Tlie daughter of a king, my drops of tears 
 I'll turn to sparks of tire. 
 
 Wol. Be patient yet. 
 
 Q. Katti. I will, when you are humble; nay, before, 
 Or God will punish me'. I do believe. 
 Induced by potent circumstances, that 
 You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge, 
 You sliall not be my judge : for it is you 
 Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me, — ■ 
 Which God's dew quench ! — Theretbre,! say again, 
 I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul, 
 Refuse you for my judge ; whom, yet once more, 
 I hold m> most maiicious foe, and think not 
 At all a Iriend to truth. 
 
 Wol. I do profess 
 
 You speak not like yourself; who ever yet 
 Have stood to clnuily, and display'd the effects 
 Of disposition ticntle, and of wisdom 
 O'erlopping woman's power. Madam, you do mo 
 
 wrong: 
 I have no spleen against you ; nnr injustice 
 For you or any: how lar I have proceeded, 
 Or how far further shall, is warranted 
 By a commission from the consistory, 
 Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge rae^ 
 That I have blown this coal; I do deny it: 
 The king is present: if it be known to him. 
 That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, 
 And worthily, my falsehood ? yea, as much, 
 As you have done my truth. But if he know 
 Tliat I am free of your report, he knows, 
 I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him 
 It lies, to cure me ; and the cure is. to 
 Remove those thoughts from you: The which 
 
 be lb re 
 His highness siiall speak in, I do beseech 
 You. gracious madam, to unthink your speaking, 
 And to say so no more. 
 
 A'. Kath. • My lord, my lord, 
 
 I am a simple woman, much too weak 
 To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and 
 
 homble-mouth'd ; 
 You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, 
 With meekness and humility : but your heart 
 Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
 You have by fi>rtune, and his highness' favors. 
 Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted 
 Where powers are your retainers: and your 
 
 words. 
 Domestics to you, serve your will. as*t please 
 Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, 
 You tender more your person's honor, than 
 Your high profession spiritual : That again 
 I do refuse you for my judge ; and here, 
 Before you all. appeal unto the pope, 
 To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness. 
 And to be judged by him. 
 
 [She curtesies to tlie King, ami offers to depart 
 Cam. The queen is obstinate, 
 
 Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and 
 Disdainful to be tryM by it; 'tis not well. 
 She's Koing away. 
 K. Hen. Call her again. 
 
 6 Useless. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KL\G HENRY VIII. 
 
 489 
 
 Crier. Kathcrine, queen of England, come into 
 tlie court ! 
 
 Grif. Madam, you are call'd back. 
 
 Q. Kath. What need you note if! pray you, 
 keep your way : 
 When you are call'd, return. — Now the Lord help, 
 They vex me past my patience! — Pray you, pass on: 
 I will not tarry ; no, nor ever more. 
 Upon this business, my appearance make 
 In any of their courts. 
 
 {Exeunt Queen, Griffith, and her other 
 Attendants. 
 
 K. Hen. Go thy ways, Kate : 
 
 That man i' the world who shall report he lias 
 A better wife, let him in nought be trusted. 
 For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone, 
 (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
 Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, — 
 Obeying in commanding, and thy parts 
 Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,) 
 The queen of earthly queens : — She is noble born ; 
 And. like her true nobility, she hat 
 Carried herself towards me. 
 
 IVol. Most graciojis sir. 
 
 In humblest manner I require your highness. 
 That it shall please you to declare in hearing 
 Of all these ears, (for where I'm robb'd and bound. 
 There must I be unloos'd; although not there 
 At once and fully satislied,) whether ever I 
 Did broach this business to your highness; or 
 Laid any scruple in your way, which might 
 Induce you to the question on't! or ever 
 Have to you,— but with thanks to God for such 
 A ro5aI lady. — spake one the least word, might 
 Be to the prejudice of her present stale. 
 Or touch of her good person 1 
 
 K. Hen. My lord cardinal, 
 
 I do excuse you, yea, upon mine honor, 
 I free you from't. Vou are not to be taught 
 That you have many enemies, that know not 
 Why they are so, hut, like to village curs, 
 H;irk when their fellows do: by some of these 
 The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd : 
 liut will you be more justifledl you ever 
 Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never 
 Desir'd it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hinder'd ; oft 
 The passages made' toward it; — on my honor, 
 I speak, my g.)od lord cardinal, to this point. 
 And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me to't,— 
 I will be bold wi!h time and your attention : — 
 Then mark the inducement. Thus it came;— give 
 
 heed to't. 
 My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness. 
 Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd 
 By the Bishop of Bayonue, then Kreuch ambassador. 
 Who had been hither sent on the debating 
 A marriage, 'iwixt the duke of Orleans and 
 Ourdau,'liter .Mary : I' the progress of this business, 
 Kre a dL'terniiuate resolution, he 
 (I mean, the bishop! did require a respite; 
 Wherein he might the king his lord advertise 
 Whether our daughter were legitimate. 
 Respecting this our marriage Vi'ith the dowager. 
 Sometime our brother's wife. This respite shook 
 The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me, 
 Vca, With a splitting power, and made to tremble 
 
 The region of my breast; which forced such way, 
 
 That many inaz'd coiisiderings did throng. 
 
 And press'd in with this caution. First, inethought, 
 
 1 stood not in the smile of heaven ; who had 
 
 Commanded nature, that my lady's womb. 
 
 If it conceiv'd a male child by nie, should 
 
 Do no more oHices of Iile to't than 
 
 The grave does to the dead ; for her male issue 
 
 Or died where they were made, or shortly aller 
 
 This world had air'd them ; Hence I took a thought 
 
 This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom. 
 
 Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should not 
 
 Be gladded in't by me : Then follows, that 
 
 1 weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in 
 
 By this my issue's lail ; and that gave to me 
 
 Aiany a groaning throe. Tiius hulling* in 
 
 The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer 
 
 Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
 
 Now present here together: that's to say, 
 
 I meant to rectify my conscience, — which 
 
 I then did feel full sick, and yet not wcll,^ 
 
 By all the reverend fathers of the land. 
 
 And doctors learn'd. — First, I began in private 
 
 With you, my lord of Lincoln; you remember 
 
 How under my oppression I did reek, '■> 
 
 When I first mov'd j'ou. 
 
 Lin. Very well, my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. I have spoke long ; be pleas'd yourself 
 to say 
 How fiir j%)u satisfied me. 
 
 I.in. So please your highness, 
 
 The question did at first so stagger me,— 
 Bearing a stale of mighty moment in't. 
 And consequence of dread, — that I committed 
 The daring'st counsel which I had, to doubt; 
 And did entreat your highness to this course. 
 Which you are running here. 
 
 A". Hen. I then mov'd yon, 
 
 My lord of Canterbury ; and got your leave 
 To make this present summons : — Unsolicited 
 I left no reverend person in this court ; 
 But by particular consent proceeded. 
 Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on : 
 For no dislike i' the world against the person 
 Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points 
 Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward: 
 Prove but our marriage lawful, by my lite, 
 And kingly dignity, we are contented 
 To wear our mortal state to come, with her 
 Katharine our queen, before the primest creature 
 That's paragon'd' o' the world. 
 
 Cum. So please your highness, 
 
 The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness 
 That we adjourn this court till further day: 
 Mi-auwiiile must be an earnest motion 
 Made to the queen, to call back her ai)peal 
 She intends unto his holiness. 
 
 [Theij ri^e to depart. 
 
 K. Hen. I may perceive, [Aside. 
 
 These cardinals tritle with me : I abhor 
 This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. 
 My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, 
 Pr'ythee return ! with thy approach, I know. 
 My comfort comes along. Break up the court: 
 I say, set on. 
 
 [Exeunt, in manner o.« iheij entere^i. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE 1.— Palace at^ Bridewell. A Room in the 
 Queen's Apartment. 
 
 The QuEEX, and some of her Women at Work. 
 Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows 
 
 sad with troubles; 
 Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave 
 
 working. 
 
 SONG. 
 Orphens with hii lute made trees. 
 And the mountaui'tops. that freeze. 
 Bow them.seli'es, whe?i he liii sing: 
 To his music, plants, and fanners. 
 Ever sprunf^; us sun, an<t showers. 
 There luid been a lasting spring. 
 ' Closed, or Cistened. 
 
 Every thing that heard him play, 
 Et'en the billows of the sea. 
 
 Hung their hentl.s, and then lay by. 
 In sweet music ix such art ; 
 Killing care, and grief of heart. 
 
 Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 Q. Kath. How now T 
 
 Gent. A n't please your grace, the two great car 
 dinals 
 Wait in the presence.2 
 Q. Kath. Would they speak with me 1 
 
 Gent. Tliey wiU'd me say so, madam. 
 Q. Kath. Pray their graces 
 
 « Flatting without guidance. a Waste, or wear away. 
 * Without compare. a Presence chamber. 
 
490 
 
 KING HENEY VIII. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 To come Jiear. [Exit Gent.] What can be their 
 
 business 
 With mc, a poor weak woman, falTn from favor 1 
 I do not like their coming, now I think on't. 
 Tiioy should be good men; IheiratTair^i as righteous: 
 But all hoods make not monks. 
 
 Enter Wolsey and Campeics. 
 
 IVol. Peace to your liighness! 
 
 Q. Kafk. Your graces find me here part of a 
 housewife ; 
 I would be all, against the worst may Iiappen. 
 What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords'? 
 
 IVoL May it please you, noble madam, to with- 
 draw 
 Into your private chamber, we shall give 5-ou 
 The full cause of our coming. 
 
 Q. Kafh. Speak it here ; 
 
 There's nothing! have done yet,o' my conscience, 
 Deserves a corner: 'Would all other women 
 Could speak thig with as free a soul as I do ! 
 My lords, I care not (so much I am happy 
 Above a number) if my actions 
 Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them, 
 Knvy and base opinion set against them, 
 I know my life so even : If your business 
 Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, 
 Out with it boldly ; Truth loves open dealing. 
 
 Wol. Tanta est er^'} te mentis inieg^ritcLS, re- 
 gii/a serenmi/iia, — 
 
 Q. Kafh. (.), good my lord, no Latin ; '" 
 [ am not such a truant since my coming. 
 As not to know the language I liave livM in: 
 A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, 
 
 suspicious; 
 pray, speak in English: here are some will thank 
 
 you, 
 If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake; 
 Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord cardinal, 
 The willing'stsin I ever yet committed, 
 May be absolv'd in English. 
 
 Wui. Noble lady, 
 
 I am sorry, my integrity should breed 
 (And service to his majesty and you) 
 So deep suspicion, wliere all faith was meant. 
 We come not Ijy the way of accusation. 
 To taint that honor every good tongue blesses ; 
 Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; 
 You have too much, good lady : but to know 
 How you stand minded in the weighty ditference 
 Bi'Iween the king and you ; and to deliver. 
 Like free and honest men, our just ojiinions, 
 And comlbrts to your cause. 
 
 Cam. Most honor'd madam, 
 
 My lord of York, — out of his noble nature, 
 Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace; 
 Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure 
 Both of his truth and Iiim, (which was too far,) — 
 Oilers, as I do, in a sign of peace. 
 His service and his counsel. 
 
 Q. Kat/i. To betray me. [Aside. 
 
 My lords. I thank you both for your good wdls. 
 Ye speak like lion est men, (pray Ood ye prove so !) 
 But how to make you suddenly an answer. 
 In such a point of weight, so near mine honor, 
 (I\Iorc near my life, I tear,) with my weak wit, 
 And lo such men of gravity and learning. 
 In truth, I know not. I was set at work 
 Ariiong my maids; full little, God knows, looking 
 PZither for such men, or such business. 
 For her sake tliat 1 have been, (lor I feel 
 Tlie last fit of my greatness,) good your graces, 
 Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause; 
 Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. 
 
 JVol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with 
 these fears ; 
 Your hopes and friends are infinite. 
 
 Q. Kafh. In England, 
 
 But little for my profit : Can you think, lords. 
 That any Eni;Iishman dare give me counsel] 
 Or bca known iVieud, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, 
 (Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,) 
 And live a sultjecf? Nay, forsooth, my friends. 
 They that must weigh out^ my afllictions, 
 Thry that my trust must grow to, live not here; 
 They are, as all my other comforts, far hence, 
 In mine own country, lords. 
 
 Cam. ' I would, your grace 
 
 Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. 
 « Outwoiirh. 
 
 Q.Kath. How, sir? 
 
 Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro- 
 tection ; 
 He's loving, and most gracious ; 'twill be much 
 Both for your Jionor better, and your cause ; 
 For, if the trial of the law o'ertate you. 
 You'll part away disgraced. 
 
 Wot. He tells you rightl}'. 
 
 Q. Katk. Ye tell me what ye wisli ibr both, ray 
 ruin: 
 Is this your christian counsel 1 out upon ye ! 
 Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge, 
 That no king can corrupt. 
 
 Cam. Your rage mistakes us. 
 
 Q. Kath. The more shame for ye; holy men I 
 thought ye, 
 Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; 
 But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, 1 fear ye: 
 Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your com- 
 fort ? 
 The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady 1 
 A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn 'd 1 
 I will not wish ye half my miseries, 
 I have more charity; But say, I warn'd ye; 
 Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once 
 Tlie burden of my sorrows fall upon ye. 
 
 XVol. Madam, this is a mere distraction; 
 You turn the good we oiTer into envy. 
 
 Q.Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, 
 And all such false professors I Would ye have me 
 (If you have any justice, any pily^; 
 If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits) 
 Put my sick cause into his hands tliat liates me 1 
 Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already; 
 His love, too, long ago: I am old, my lords. 
 And all the fellowship 1 hold now with him 
 Is only my obedience. What can happen 
 To me, above this wretchedness \ all your studies 
 Make me a curse like this. 
 
 Cam. Your fears are worse. 
 
 Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long — (let me speak 
 myself. 
 Since virtue finds no friends) — a wife, a true one"! 
 A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory) 
 Never yet branded with susjiicion 1 
 Have I with all my full atlections 
 Still met the king! lov'd him next heaven T obey'd 
 
 him ? 
 Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him '{ 
 Almost forgot my prayers to content him ! 
 And am I thus rewarded ] 'tis not well, lords. 
 Bring me a constant woman to her husband. 
 One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; 
 And to that woman, when she has done most, 
 Yet will I add an honor, — a great patience. 
 
 JFo/. Madam, you wanderfrointhegood weaimat. 
 
 Q. Kath. My lord, 1 dare not make myself so 
 guilty. 
 To give up willingly that noble title 
 Your master wed me to; nothing but death 
 Shall e'er divorce my dignities. 
 
 Wol. 'Pray, hear me. 
 
 Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod tliis English 
 earth. 
 Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! 
 Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your 
 
 hearts. 
 What will become of me now, wretched lady) 
 I am the most unhappy woman living, — 
 Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? 
 [To her Women. 
 Rhipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, 
 No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep Ibr me, 
 Almost no grave allow'd me: — Like the lily. 
 That once was mistress of the held, and flourish'd, 
 I'll hang my head and perish. 
 
 Wol. If your grace 
 
 Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest. 
 You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, 
 Upon what cause, wrong you 7 alas ! our ])iaces, 
 Tlie way of our profession is against it; » 
 
 We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. 
 For goodness' sake, consider what you do; 
 How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly 
 (Jrow from the king's acquaintance, by thiscarriago. 
 The hearts of princes kiss obedience, 
 So much they love it ; but, to stubborn spirits, 
 They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 
 I know, you have a gentle, noble temper, 
 A soul as even as a calm : Pray, think us 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENKY VIII. 
 
 491 
 
 Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser- 
 vants. 
 
 Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your 
 virtues 
 With tliese wt.ilt women's fears. A noble spirit, 
 As yours was put into you, ever casts 
 Sucli doubts, as lalse coin, from it. The king loves 
 
 you; 
 Beware you lose it not ; For us, if you please 
 To trust us in your business, we are ready 
 To use our utmost studies in your service. 
 
 Q. A'o/A. Do what ye will, my lords : And, pray, 
 Ibrgive me. 
 If 1 have used* myself unmannerly ; 
 You know, I am a woman, lacking wit 
 To make a seemly answer to such persons. 
 Pray, do my service to his majesty: 
 He lias my heart yet ; and sliall have my prayers. 
 While I sliall have my life. Come, reverend fathers. 
 Bestow your counsels on me; she now begs, 
 That little thought, when she set footing here, 
 She should have bought her dignities so dear. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE M.—Anie-cluimber to the King's Apart- 
 ment. 
 Enter ttie Ddee of Norfolk, th.e Dcke of Sctfolk, 
 
 tke Earl of Slrrev, an.dt/ie Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Ni/r. If jou will now unite in your complaints, 
 And force' them with a constancy, the cardinal 
 Cannot stand under them: If you omit 
 The otter of this time, 1 canjiot promise, 
 Hut that you shall sustain more new disgraces, 
 With these you bear already. 
 
 Siir. I am joyful 
 
 To meet the least occasion, that may give me 
 Remembrance of my lather-in-law, the duke. 
 To be revenged on him. 
 
 Suf. Which of the peers 
 
 Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least 
 Strangely neglected 3 wJieu did he regard 
 The stamp of nobleness in any person, 
 Out of himself! 
 
 Ctiam. My lords, you speak your pleasures; 
 
 What he deserves of you and me, 1 know ; 
 What we can do to him, (though now the time 
 Gives way to us,) i much lear. If you cannot 
 Bar his access to the king, never attempt 
 Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft 
 Over the king in his tongue. 
 
 Nor. O, fear him not ; 
 
 His spell in that is out: the king liatli louiid 
 Mutter against him, that for ever mars 
 The honey of his language. No, he's settled, 
 Not to come oil', in his displeasure. 
 
 Sui: Sir, 
 
 I should be glad to hear such news as this 
 Once every hour. 
 
 Nor. Believe it, this is true. 
 
 In the divorce, his contrary proceedings 
 Are all unfolded; wherein he appears, 
 As I could wish mine enemy. 
 
 Sur. How came 
 
 His practices to light? 
 
 Suf. Most strangely. 
 
 Sur, ^ O, how, how 1 
 
 Stif. The cardinal's letter to the pope mi.scarried. 
 And came to tiiee\eo' the king: wherein was read. 
 How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness 
 To stay the .judgment o' the divorce: Kor if 
 It did take place. I do, quoth he, perceive 
 My king « tangled in affection to 
 A creature of tke queen s.lady Anne Bullen. 
 
 Sur. Has the king this ! 
 
 Suf. Believe it. 
 
 Sur. Will this work? 
 
 Cham. The king in this perceives hiin how he 
 coasts. 
 And hedges, his own way. But in this point 
 All his tricks founder, arid he brings his physic 
 AfUn- his patient's death; the king already 
 riath married the liiir lady. 
 
 Sur. "Would he had! 
 
 Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord! 
 For, I protess, you have it. 
 
 Sur. Now all my joy 
 
 Traced the conjunction ! 
 
 Suf. My amen to't ! 
 
 Nor. All men's. 
 
 * Bch.ived. B Enforce. • Follow. 
 
 Suf. There's order given tor her coronation: 
 Marry, tliis is yet but young, and may be left 
 To some ears unrecounted.— But, my lords, 
 She is a gallant creature, and complete 
 In mind and I'eature ; 1 persuade ine, from her 
 Will liill some blessing to this land, which shall 
 In it be memoriz'd.^ 
 
 Sur. But, will the king 
 
 Digest this letter of the cardinal's! 
 The Lord forbid ! 
 
 Nor. Marry, amen ! 
 
 Suf. No, no ; 
 
 There be more wasps that buz about his nose, 
 Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campcius 
 Is stolen away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ; 
 Has letl the cause o' the king unhandled; and 
 Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal. 
 To second all his plot. I do assure you, 
 The king cry'd, ha ! at this. 
 
 Cfium. Now, God incense him, 
 
 And let him cry, ha, louder ! 
 
 Nor. But, my lord, 
 
 When returns Cranmer ! 
 
 Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions; which 
 Have satisfied the king for his divorce, 
 Together with all lirmous colleges 
 Almost in Christendom : shortly, I believe. 
 His second marriage shall be publish'd, and 
 Her coronation. Katharine no more 
 Shall be call'd queen ; but princess-dowager, 
 And widow to prince Arthur. 
 
 Nor. This same Crammer's 
 
 A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain 
 In the king's business. 
 
 Suf. He has; and we shall see him 
 
 For It, an archbishop. 
 
 Nor. So I hear. 
 
 Suf. 'Tis so. 
 
 The cardinal — 
 
 Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. 
 
 Nor. Observe, observe, he's moody. 
 
 (I'o/. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the king! 
 
 Cram, To his own hand, in his bed-chamlior. 
 
 Wul. Look'd he o' tlie inside of the paper ! 
 
 Crom. Presently 
 
 He did unseal tliem : and the first lie view'd, 
 He did it with a serious mind ; a lieed 
 Was in his countenance : You he bade 
 Attend him here this morning. 
 
 '^'o/. Is he ready 
 
 To come abroad ? 
 
 Crom. I think, by this he is. 
 
 IVol. Leave me a wliile.— {E.vit Cbostitell. 
 It shall be to the duchess of Alenwn, 
 The French king's sister; he shall marry her. — 
 Anne Bullen ! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him: 
 There is more in it than lair visage. — Bullen ! 
 No, we'll no Bullens. — Speedily I wish 
 To hear from Rome.— The marchioness of Pem- 
 broke ! 
 
 Nor. He's discontented. 
 
 Suf. May be, he hears The king 
 
 Does whet his anger to him. 
 
 Sur. Sharp enough, 
 
 Lord, for thy justice ! 
 
 IVol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's 
 daughter. 
 To be her unstress' mistress! the queen's queen ! — 
 This candle burns not clear; 'tis I must snulf it; 
 Then, out it goes. — What (hough I know her vir- 
 tuous. 
 And well-deserving ! yet I know her for 
 A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to 
 Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of 
 Our hard-rul'd king. — Again, there is sprung up 
 A heretic, an arch one. Cranmer ; one 
 Halli crawl'd into the favor of the king, 
 And is his oracle. 
 
 Nor. He is vex'd at something. 
 
 Suf I would, 'twere something that would fret 
 the string. 
 The master-cord of his heart ! 
 Enter t/ie Kixo, reading a Scfiedule; and Lotell. 
 
 Suf. The king, the king. 
 
 K. Hen. What piles of wealth hatli he accumu- 
 lated 
 To his own portion ! and what expense by thehour 
 1 Made memorable. 
 
492 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Seems to How from him ! How, i' the name of Christ, 
 Does lie rake this logetherl — Now, my lords ; 
 Saw jou the cardinal ! 
 
 Nor. My lord, we have 
 
 Stood here observing him : Some strange commo- 
 tion 
 Is in his brain ; he bites his lip, and starts ; 
 Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
 Then, lays, his linger on his temple ; straight, 
 Springs out into fast gait;S then, stops again, 
 Strikes his breast hard ; and anon, he casts 
 His eye against ihe moon: in most stranjje postures 
 We have seen Jiim set himseltl 
 
 A". Hen. It may well be ; 
 
 There is a mutiny in his mind. This inorning 
 Papers of state he sent me to peruse. 
 As 1 reqnir'd; and wot^' you, wliat I found 
 There ; on my conscience, put unwittingly 1 
 Forsiuoih, an mventory, thus importing, — 
 The several parcels of his plate, his treasure. 
 Rich studs and ornaments of household; which 
 1 find at such proud rate, that it outspeaks 
 Possession of a subject. 
 
 Nor. It's heaven's will ; 
 
 Some spirit put this paper in tiie packet, 
 To bless your eye withal. 
 
 K. Hen. If we did think 
 
 His coniemplation were above the earth, 
 And lix'd on spiritual object, he should still 
 Dwell in his niusnigs: but, 1 am afraid, 
 His tliinkmgs are below the moon, not worth 
 Ilis serious considering. 
 
 {He takes hLs Seat, and tvfiUipers Lovell, 
 
 ivh(/ goes to WoLSEY. 
 
 Wol. Heaven forgive me! 
 
 Ever God bless your liiglincss ! 
 
 K. Hen. Good, my lord^ 
 
 You are full of heavenly stufT, and bear the in- 
 ventory 
 Of your best graces in your mind ; the which 
 You are now running o'er; you Jiave scarce time 
 To steal from sjiiritual leisure a brief span. 
 To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that 
 I liceni jou an ill husband ; and am glad 
 To liave you ttiert-in my companion. 
 
 IVol. Sir, 
 
 For holy offices I have a time ; a time 
 To think upon the part of business, which 
 ] bear i' tlie state; and nature does require 
 Her times of preservation, whicli, pertbrce, 
 I, Iter frail son, amongst my brethren mortal 
 Must give my tendance to. 
 
 K.Hen, You have said well. 
 
 Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together 
 As I will lend you cause, my doing well 
 With my well saying I 
 
 A'. Ht'n. 'Tis well said again: 
 
 And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well : 
 And yet words are no deeds. My lather lov'd you : 
 He said, he did ; and with his deed did crown 
 His word upon you. Sinc-e I liad my oflice, 
 1 have kept you next my heart ; have not alone 
 KmplojT'd you wliereJnghprotits might come home, 
 But par'd my present iiavings, to bestow 
 My twunties upon you. 
 
 Wol. What should this mean 1 
 
 Sur. The Lord increase this business ! [Afiide. 
 
 K. Hen. Have I not made you 
 
 Tlie jirinie man of the state ! I pray you, tefl me, 
 If what I now pronounce, you have ibund true : 
 And, if you may conlcbs it, say withal. 
 If you are bound to us, or no. What say you ? 
 
 M'til. My sovereign, I conless, your royal graces, 
 Siiower'd on me daily, have been more, tliaii could 
 My studied purposes requite; which went 
 IJeyond all man s endeavors: — my endeavors 
 Have ever come too shoit of my desires. 
 Yet, fill'd with my abilities : Mme own ends 
 Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed 
 To the good of your most sacred person, and 
 The jirolitof the state. For your great graces 
 HeapVl upon nie, poor undeserver, I 
 Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ; 
 My prayers to heaven lor you; my loyalty, 
 WlucJi ever has, and ever shall be growing, 
 Till death, that winter, kill it. 
 
 A'. Hi-n. Fairly answcr'd; 
 
 A loyal and oliedient suoject is 
 Tiierein illustrated : The honor of it 
 
 'St^ps. e Know. 
 
 Does pay the act of it ; as, i' tiie contrary, 
 The loulness is the punishment. I presume, 
 That, as my hand has opeii'd bounty to you, 
 My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honor, 
 
 more 
 On you, than any ; so your hand, and heart. 
 Your brain, and every function of your power, 
 Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, 
 As 'twere in love's particular, be more 
 To me. your friend, than any. 
 
 Wol. I do profess. 
 
 That for your highness' good I ever iabor'd 
 More tlian mine own; that am, have, and will be, 
 Though all theworldshouldcrack their duty to yoi^ 
 And throw it from their soul: though perils did 
 Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and 
 Appear in ibrms more horrid ; yet my duty. 
 As doth a rock against the chiding flood, 
 Should the approach of this wild river break, 
 And stand unshaken yours. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis nobly spoken : 
 
 Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, 
 For you have seen him open't. — Read o'er this ; 
 
 [Givhig him Papers 
 And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with 
 What appetite you have. 
 
 [£xi/. King, frowning xipon CArniNAt, Wol 
 SEV : the Nobles tkro7ig after him, smiling 
 and whispering. 
 
 Tl'ol. What should this mean 1 
 
 What sudden anger's this 1 how have 1 reap'd it 1 
 He parted Irowning from me, as if ruin 
 Leaji'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion 
 Upon the daring huntsman that Jias gali'd him ; 
 Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper : 
 I tear, the story of his anger. — 'Tis so ; 
 This paper has undone me :— 'Tis the account 
 Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together 
 For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom, 
 And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence. 
 Fit tor a fool to fall by ! What cross devil 
 Made me put this main secret in the packet 
 I sent the king] Is there no way to cure this? 
 No new device to beat this from his brains ] 
 I know, 'twill stir him strongly ; yet I know 
 A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune 
 Will bring me offagain. Wliat'sthis — TothePope? 
 The letter, as I live, with all the business 
 I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell ! 
 I have touch'd the highest point of all my great- 
 ness; 
 And. fi-om that full meridian of my glory, 
 I haste now to my settlnj^ : I sliall fall 
 Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 
 And no man sec me more. 
 Re-enter the Dikes of Norfolk and Scffolk, the 
 
 Earl of Slruev, and the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who 
 commands you 
 To render up the great seal presently 
 Into our hands; and to contine yourself 
 To Asher-House,' my lord of Winchester's, 
 Till you hear further from his highness. 
 
 Wol. Slay, 
 
 Where's your commission, lords'! words cannot 
 
 carry 
 Authority so weighty. 
 
 Svf. Who dare cross them? 
 
 Bearing the king's will from Ins mouth expressly? 
 
 Wol. Tillltincl more than will. or words, to doit, 
 (I mean your malice,) know, oltleious lords, 
 I dare, arid must deny it. Now I tee! 
 Of what coarse metal ye are moulded — envy. 
 How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, 
 As if it Jed ye ! and how sleek and wanton 
 Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin . 
 Follow your envious courses, men of malice ; 
 You have christian warrant for them, and, no 
 
 doubt, 
 In time will hnd their fit rewards. That seal. 
 You ask witli such a violence, tiie king 
 (Mine and your master) with his own hand gave 
 
 me": 
 Hade me enjoy it, with the place and honors, 
 During my lilip; and, to conlirm his goodness. 
 Tied it by letters patent: Now, who'll take it? 
 
 Sur. Tlie king, that gave it. 
 
 Wol. It must be himself Ihen 
 
 * Esher in Surrey. 
 
 i 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY YIII. 
 
 493 
 
 Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. 
 
 Wot. Proud lord, thou licst; 
 
 Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better 
 Have burnt that tonj^ue, than said so. 
 
 Su/\ _ Thy ambition, 
 
 Tliou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land 
 Of noble Buckincjhani. my I'atJier-in-law: 
 The Jieads of all Ihy brother cardinals, 
 ( Wilh thee, and all thy best parts bound tog^ether,] 
 Wti^h'u nut a hair of his. Plaiiuc of your policy ! 
 Vou sent me deputy for Ireland ; 
 Kar from his succor, from the kins, from all 
 Tiiat migtit have mercy on thefaultthougav'sthim; 
 Whilst your great goodness, out of Jioly pity, 
 Absniv'd him with an axe. 
 
 IVitl. This, and all else 
 
 This talking lord can lay upon my credit, 
 I answer, is most lalse. The duke by law 
 Kound his deserts: Jiow innocent I was 
 Krom any private malice in his end, 
 His noblejury and foul cause can witness. 
 1(1 lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you, 
 Yuu have as little honesty as honor; 
 That I, in the way of loyalty and truth 
 Toward the king, my ever royal master, 
 Dare mate' a sounder man than Surrey can be. 
 And all that love liis follies. 
 
 Sur. By my soul, 
 
 Your long coat, priest, protects you ; thou shouldst 
 
 Jecl 
 My sword i' the life-blood of thee else.-r-My lords. 
 Can ye endure to hear this arrogance 1 
 And from this tellow ] If we live thus tamely^ 
 To be thusjaded^ by a piece of scarlet. 
 Farewell nobility ; let his grace go Ibrward, 
 And dare us with his cap, like larks.-» 
 
 ii'ol. All goodness 
 
 Is poison to thy stomach. 
 
 -S'wr. ^ Yes, that goodness 
 
 Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, 
 Into your own hands, cardinal, bv extortion; 
 The goodnet^s of your intercepted packets. 
 You writto the jjope, against tile king; your good- 
 ness, 
 Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. — 
 My lord ot Norfolk, — as you are truly noble, 
 As you respect the common good, the state 
 Of our despis'd nobiliry, our issues, 
 Who, if lie live, will scarce be gentlemen, — 
 Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles 
 CoHected from his life: — I'll startle you 
 Worse than thesacring bell, when the brown wench 
 Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal. 
 
 K'o/. How mucli, methinks, 1 could despise this 
 man, 
 But that 1 am bound in charity against it! 
 
 Aur. Those articles, my lord, arc in the king's 
 hand : 
 But, thus much, they are foul ones. 
 
 JVol. So much fairer. 
 
 Anil spotless, shall mine innocence arise. 
 When the king knows my truth. 
 
 Stfr. This cannot save you : 
 
 I thank my memory, I yet remember 
 Some of these articles; and out Ihey shall. 
 Now. if you can, blush, and cry guilty, cardinal, 
 Voii'll show a Ijtlle honesty. 
 
 Wot. Speak on, sir: 
 
 I dare your worst objections: If I blush, 
 It is. to see a nobleman want manners. 
 
 Sur. I'd rather ♦.ant those, than my head. Have 
 at you. 
 First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge, 
 You wrought to be a legate; by which power 
 You maim*d the jurisdiction of all bishops. 
 
 Nor. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else 
 To loreign princes, Egit ct Rex mens 
 W' as still inscribed ; in which you brought the king 
 To be your seivant. 
 
 Sifj: Then, that without the knowledge 
 
 Either of king or council, when you went 
 Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold 
 To carry into Flanders the great seal. 
 
 Sur. Item, you sent a large commission 
 To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude, 
 Without tlie king's will, or the state's allowance, 
 A league between his highness and Ferrara. 
 ^ K.jual. s RiJdt'n down. 
 
 * A caidiiial's htit is scarlet, and the metlicd of daring 
 larks is by small luiiTors ou scarlet cloth. 
 
 Sitf. That, out of mere ani!)ition,you havecaus'd 
 Your holy liat to be stamp'd on the king's coin. 
 
 6'ur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub- 
 stance. 
 (By what means got, I leave to your own con- 
 science.) 
 To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways 
 You have for dignities; to the mere^ undoing 
 Of all the kingdom. Many more there arc ; 
 Which, since they arc of you, and odious, 
 I will not taint my mouth with. 
 
 Cham. O my lord. 
 
 Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: 
 His faults lie open to the laws ; let them, 
 Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to sec him 
 So little of his great self. 
 
 Sur. I forgive him. 
 
 Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure 
 is, — 
 Because all those things, you have done of late 
 By your power legatine Within this kingdom, 
 Fall into the com])ass of a prsemumre,^ — 
 That therelbre such a writ he sued against you ; 
 To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, 
 Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be 
 Out ot the king's ^irotection ; — This is my charge. 
 
 Nor. And so we 11 leave you to your meditations 
 How to live better. For your stubborn answer, 
 About the giving back tJie great seal to us, 
 The king shall know it, and no doubt, shall thank 
 
 you. 
 So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal. 
 
 [Exeunf all but Wolsev. 
 
 Wnl. So farewell lo the little good you bear me. 
 Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
 Tiiis is the state of man; to-day he puts forth 
 The tender loaves of hojie. to-morrow blossoms. 
 And bears his blushing lionors thick upon him: 
 The tliird day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
 And — when he thinlfs, good easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a ripening — nips Ins root. 
 And then he falls, as I do. I h;ive venlur'd. 
 Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
 Tliis many summers in a sea of glory; 
 But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
 At length broke under me; and now has lell me 
 Weary, and old with service, to tlie mercy 
 Of a rude stream, that must tor ever iiide me. 
 Yain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; 
 I feel my heart new open'd : O. how wretched 
 Is that poor man. tliat hangs on princes* lixvors! 
 There is, betwixt tJiat smile we would aspire to. 
 That sweet aspt'-ct of princes, and their ruin. 
 More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 
 And when he falls, he falls like Luciler 
 Never to hope again. — 
 
 Ejifer CuoMWELL, amazedhj. 
 
 Why, how now, Cromwell ? 
 
 Crotn. I liave no power to s])cak, sir ? 
 
 Wul. What, amaz'd 
 
 At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder, 
 A great man should decline \ Nay, an you weep, 
 I am fallen indeed. 
 
 Cro/n. How does your grace 1 
 
 Wol. Why, well; 
 
 Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
 1 know myself now; and 1 Rh;! within me 
 A peace above all earthly dignities, 
 Astiliandquietconsciencc. Thekinghascured me. 
 I humbly thank hisgracc; and from these shoulders. 
 These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken 
 A load would sink a navy, too much honor; 
 O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, 
 Too heavy li)r a man that hopes for heaven. 
 
 Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right 
 use of it. 
 
 IVol. I hope, I have : I am able now, methinks, 
 (r)ut of a Ibrtitude of soul 1 feel.) 
 To endure more miseries, and greater far. 
 Than my weak-hearted enemies dare oder. 
 What news abroad \ 
 
 Crom. The heaviest and the worst, 
 
 Is your displeasure with the king. 
 
 iVol. God bless him I 
 
 Crom. The next is, that sir ThomaS More is chosen 
 Lord chancellor in your place. 
 
 U'tfl. ' That's somewhat sudden : 
 
 But he's a learned man. May he continue 
 
 » Absoluto. * A writ incurring a peualty. 
 
494 
 
 KING HENKY VIII. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Long in his highness' favor, and do justice 
 For trulh's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, 
 When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, 
 May have a tomb of orxjhans' tears' wept on 'em! 
 What more 7 
 
 Croin. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, 
 Install'd bird archbisliop of Canterbury. 
 Jf'nL That's news indeed. 
 
 V.roin. Last, the lady Anne, 
 
 Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, 
 Ttiiri day was view'd in open, as his queen, 
 Going to chapel; and the voice is now 
 Only about her coronation. 
 
 {V'uL There was the weight thatpuU'd me down. 
 (T'Cromwell, 
 The king has gone beyond me, all my glories 
 In tliat one woman 1 have lost tor ever: 
 No sun ^IlaU ever usher forth mine honors, 
 Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
 Upon my smiles. Go, gettliee from me, Cromwell, 
 I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
 To be thy lord and master: Seek the king; 
 Tliat sun. I pray, may never set ! I have told him 
 What, and how true thou art: he will advance 
 
 thee; 
 Some little memory of me will stir him 
 (I know his noble nature) not to let 
 Tliy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell, 
 Neglect him not ; make use^ now, and provide 
 For thnie own future safety. 
 
 Cro.'/i. 0, my lord, 
 
 Must I then leave you "? Must I needs forego 
 So good, so noble, "and so true a master ! 
 Bear witness, all, that have not hearts of iron, 
 With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.^ 
 The king shall have my service; but my prayers 
 For ever, and lor over, shall be yours 
 
 iVol. Cromwell. I did not think to shed a tear 
 In all my miseries; but thou hast forced mc 
 Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 
 Let's dry our eyes: and thus tar iiear me, Crom- 
 well; 
 And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be; 
 And sleep in dull cold marble, wbere no menticir. 
 Of me more must be iieard ot^-say, I taught thee, 
 Say, Wolsey — that once trod the ways ot'glory, 
 And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor — 
 Found thee a way, out»of his wreck, to rise in ; 
 A sure and safe one. though thy master miss'i^ :X 
 Mark but my liill, and that that ruin'd me. 
 Cromwell, I charge thee, lUng away ambition 
 By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, 
 The image of his Maker, hope to win by't ] 
 Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate 
 
 thee ; 
 Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
 Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
 To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not; 
 Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, 
 Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou lall'st, 
 
 Cromwell, 
 Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king, 
 And, — Pr'ythee lead me in : 
 There take an inventory of all I have, 
 To the last penny: 'tis the king's : my robe. 
 And my integrity to heaven, is all 
 1 dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 
 Had I but serv'd my God with hall the zeal 
 1 serv'd my king, he would not in mine age 
 Have left me naked to mine enemies. 
 
 Cram. Good sir, have patience. 
 
 WuL So I have. Farewell 
 
 The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. 
 
 \_£xcunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— .1 Street in Westminster. 
 Enter two Gentlemen, metting. 
 
 1 Ge^it. You are well met once again. 
 
 2 Gent. And so are you. 
 
 1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and 
 
 behold 
 The lady Anne pass from her coronation? 
 ^ Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en- 
 counter, 
 The duke of Buckingham came for his trial. 
 
 IGe/i^'Tis very true; but that time otIL'r'd sorrow; 
 This, general joy. 
 
 2 Gent. 'Tis well: the citizens, 
 
 I am sure, have sliown at full their royal minds; 
 As, let them have their rights, tliey are ever Ibrward 
 In celebration of this day with shows, 
 pageants, and sights of iionor. 
 
 1 Gent. Never greater, 
 Nor, I'll assure 5'ou, better taken, sir. 
 
 2 Gent. May 1 be hold to ask what that contains, 
 That paper in your hand l 
 
 1 Gent. Yes; 'tis the list 
 Of tJiose that claim their offices this da}' 
 
 By custom of the coronation. 
 
 TJie duke of SulKilk is the ttrst, and claims 
 
 To be high steward ; next, the duke of Norfolk, 
 
 He to be earl marshal; you my read the rest. 
 
 2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known those 
 
 customs, 
 I sliouki have been beholden to 5'our paper. 
 But, I heseecii you. what becomes of Katharine, 
 The priMcoss-ddwager I how goes her business ? 
 
 1 Gent. TInit I can tell you too. The arch- 
 bishop 
 Of Canterbury, accompanied with other 
 Learned and reverend liithers of his order, 
 Held a lale court at Dunstable, six miles otf 
 From Amptliill, where (he princess lay; to which 
 She oft was cited by them, but appear d not: 
 And to be short, Ii>r not appearance, and 
 The king's lale scruple, by the main assent 
 Of all these learned men she was divorced, 
 And the late marriage made of none ellect: 
 Since which, she was reniov'd to Kimbolton, 
 Where she remains now, sick. 
 
 1 The chancellor is tby guardian of orphans. ' Interest. 
 
 2 Gent. Alas, goorf lady !— 
 
 [TruniprA'S. 
 The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is 
 coming. 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSIOX. 
 
 A lively jlourish of Trumpets ; tfien eiiter, 
 
 1. Ttvo Judges. 
 
 2. Lord C/uincellor, loitk the jnirse and mace be- 
 
 fore him. 
 
 3. Chorviters singing, [Music. 
 
 4. Mayor of Lonrion, hearing the luace. Then 
 
 Garter^ in /lis coat of arms, und^ on his 
 head, a gilt copper crown. 
 
 5. Marqubi Dorset, hearing a sceptre of gold, on 
 
 his head a demi-coronal tf gold. With 
 him, tlie Karl of Surrey, hearing the rod 
 (f silver, ivith tlie dove, cruwncd with an 
 carts coronet. Collars of SS. 
 
 (.). Duke of Suff'ol/c, in his rohe of estate, his coro- 
 net on Itis head, bearing a long white, 
 wand, as hi^h stewanl. ll'ilh him the 
 Duke of Norfolk, irifh the rot (f marsh'd' 
 ship, a cortnnl ou his head. 'Co'flars of SS. 
 
 7. A canopij borne by four of the Cin'pie-ports ; 
 undtr it, the Queen in her rohe; in her 
 hair, richly adorned withmpearl, crowned. 
 On eacli side of her, the Biahops of Lon-^ 
 don and Winchester, 
 
 S. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a cm'onal of 
 gold, wrought with flowerst bearing the 
 Queen''s train. 
 
 9, Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain cir^ 
 cles of gold without Jiowers. 
 2 Gent. A royal train, believe me, — Ihese I 
 know : — 
 
 Who's that, that bears the sceptre ? 
 
 1 Gent. Marquis Dorset: 
 And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 
 
 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman : And tliat 
 
 should be 
 The duke of Sullolk. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis the same; high-steward. 
 
 2 Gent. And that, my lord of Norfolk i 
 
 1 Gent. Yes. 
 
 2 Gent, Heaven bless tbee! 
 
 [Looking on the Queen. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 495 
 
 Tliou liast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.— 
 
 Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel ; 
 
 Our kiuj^ lias all the Indies in his arms, 
 
 And more, and richer, when he strains that lady : 
 
 I cannot blame his conscience. 
 
 1 Gent. They, that bear 
 The cloth of honor over her, are four barons 
 
 Of the Cinque-j)orts. 
 
 2 {jenf. Those men are happy; and so are all, 
 
 ar° near her. 
 I take it, she that carries ui^the train. 
 Is Iliat old nbble lady, duchess of Norfolk. 
 
 1 Cicnt. ]t is; and all tJie rest are countesses. 
 
 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars 
 
 indeed ; 
 And. sometimes, falling ones. 
 
 1 Gent. No more of that. 
 
 ExU Prucesshn, Willi a great fiuuristi of 
 Trumpets. 
 
 Enter a Third Gentleman. 
 God save you, sir! wJn'rc have yon been broiling? 
 
 3 Gent. Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a 
 
 linger 
 Could not be wedg d in more ; and I am stifled 
 With the mere rankness of their joy. 
 
 2 Gent. You saw 
 The ceremony ? 
 
 3 Gent. That I did. 
 
 1 Gent. How was it! 
 3 Gtnt, Well worth the seeing, 
 
 2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us. 
 
 3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream 
 Of lords, and ladies, having brought tiie queen 
 To a prepar'd place in the choir, tell olf 
 
 A distance from her; while her grace sat down 
 To rest a while, some liall an hour, or so. 
 In a rich chair of stale, opposing freely 
 Tile beauty of her ]ierson to the people, 
 liiheve me, sir, she i* the goodliest woman 
 Tliat ever lay by man; which when the people 
 Had the liiU view of, such a noise arose 
 As the shrouds make at sea m a stilf tempest. 
 As loud, and to as many tunes: liats, cloaks, 
 (Doublets, I think,) (lew up ; and liad their faces 
 Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy 
 1 never saw before, (ireat-bellied women, 
 That had not half a week to go, like rams 
 In the old time of war, would shake the press. 
 And make them reel before them. No man living 
 Could say. This is inij ivij'e, there; all were VN'oven 
 So strangely in one piece. 
 
 2 Gent. Uut, 'pray, what follow'd 1 
 
 3 Gent. At length her grace rose,and with modest 
 
 paces 
 Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saint- 
 like. 
 Cast her Jair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. 
 Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people; 
 When by the archbisliop of Canterbury 
 She had all the royal makings of a queen ; 
 As holy oil, Edward Confes^or's crown. 
 The rod, and bird of pc.ice, and all such emblems 
 Laid nobly on her: which perlbrm'd, the choir, 
 Witli all the choicest music of the kingdom. 
 Together sung I'e Dciun. So she parted. 
 And with the same full state paced back again 
 To York-place, where the feast is lield. 
 
 1 Gent. Sir, you 
 JIust no more call it York-place, that is past: 
 For, since the cardinal li?ll, (hat title's lost ; 
 
 ' f is now the king's, and call'd— Whitehall. 
 
 3 Gent. I know it; 
 
 But tis so lately alter d, that the old name 
 Is fresh about me. 
 
 2 Gent. What two reverend bishops 
 Were those that went on each side of the queen 1 
 
 3 Cent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Win- 
 
 chester, 
 (Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,) 
 The other, London. 
 
 2 Gent. He of Winchester 
 
 Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's. 
 The virtuous Cranmer. 
 
 3 Gent. All the land knows that : 
 However, yet there's no great breach; when it 
 
 comes, 
 Cranmer will tind a friend will not shrink from 
 liim. 
 2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you ? 
 
 3 Ornf. Thomas Cromwell J 
 
 A man in much esteem with the king, and truly 
 A worthy Iriend.— The king 
 Has made hi in master o' the jewel-house, 
 And one, already, of the privy-council. 
 
 2 Gent. He will deserve mo're. 
 ^ 3 Gent. Yes, without all doubt. 
 
 Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which 
 Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests 
 Something I can command. As I walk thither, 
 Ml tell ye more. 
 
 Butli. You may command us, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— Kimbolton. 
 Enter Katiiaiiine, Downger, .nek ; led between 
 GKiFfiTH and Patien'CE. 
 
 Grif. How does your grace ? 
 
 Au/A. O, Griffith, sick to death: 
 
 My legs, like loadon branches, bow to the earth. 
 Willing to leave their burden: Reach a chair;— 
 So.— now, methinks, I feel a little ease. 
 Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, 
 That the great child of honor, cardinal Wolsey, 
 Was dead ! 
 
 Grif. Yes, madam ; but I think, your grace, 
 Out of the pain you sulVer'd, gave no ear to't. 
 
 Kat/t. I'r'ythee, good Gritfith, tell me how he 
 died : 
 If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,^ 
 Eor my example. 
 
 Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : 
 
 For after the stout carl Northumberland 
 Arrested Inin at York, and brought him tbrward 
 (As a man sorely tainted) to his answer, 
 He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill. 
 He could not sit his mule. 
 
 hatti. Alas! poor man I 
 
 Grif. At last, with easy roads, became to Leicester, 
 Lodg'd in the abbey; 'where the reverenil abbot, 
 With all Ins conveiit, honorably receiv'd liim ; 
 To whom he gave these yvovds,— 0.f<illirr ablmt. 
 An old man, broken Willi tlie storms of .state, 
 Is come to lai/ his wean/ bones amcmg ye ; 
 Give him a little earth for chariti/J 
 So went to bed : where eagerly bis sickness 
 Pursu'd liim still; and three nights after this. 
 About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
 Foretold should be Ins last,) hill of repentance, 
 Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, 
 He gave his honors to the world again. 
 His blessed part to he.iven, and slept in peace. 
 
 Kath. So may lie rest; his faults lie gently on 
 Inm ! 
 Yet thus far, GrilKth. give me leave to speak him. 
 And yet with chanty.— He was a man 
 Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking 
 Himself Willi ininoes; one that by suggestion 
 Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play; 
 His own opinion was his law; 1' the presence' 
 He would say untruths ; and be ever double 
 Both in his words and meaning: He was never, 
 But where he meant to ruin, pitiful : 
 He promises were, as he then was, mighty ; 
 But his perftrmance, as he is now, nothing. 
 Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
 The clergy ill example. 
 
 Grif. Noble madam. 
 
 Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 
 We write in water. May it please your highness 
 To hear me sijeak his good now ! 
 
 Kalh. Yes, good Griffith ; 
 
 I were malicious else. 
 
 Grif. The cardinal. 
 
 Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
 Was fashion'd to iiiucli honor. From bis cradle. 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good-one ; 
 Exceeding wise, lair s])okeii, and persuading: 
 Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not ; 
 But.lo those men that sought him, sweet as summer. 
 And though be were unsatisfied in getting, 
 (WMiicb was a sin.) yet In bestowing, madam, 
 He was in.-.st jiriiicely: Ever witness for hiui 
 Those twins <>( learning, that he raised in you, 
 Ipswich, and Oxliird! one- of which fell with him 
 Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
 The other, though unlinish'd, yet so famous. 
 So excellent in art, and still so rising. 
 That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
 » Uaply. ' Of the king. ■> Ipswich. 
 
496 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act IV. Scene II. 
 
 His ovcrlhrow heap'd hiippiiie-ss uiion him ; 
 For then, and not till tlieii, lie felt liiiriself, 
 And ibund the blessedness of being little: 
 And. to add greater honors to his age 
 Than man could give him, he died, tearing God 
 Kaih. After my death I wish no other herald, 
 No other speaker of iny living actions, 
 To keep mine honor from corruption. 
 But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
 Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me 
 With thy religious truth, and modesty, 
 Now in his ashes honor : Peace be with liim !— 
 Patience, be near me still; arid set inc lower: 
 I have not long to trouble thee.— Good Griffith, 
 Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
 I named my knell, whilst I sit raediluling 
 On that celestial harmony I go to. 
 
 Sa't and solemn Music. 
 GHf. She is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down 
 quiet. 
 
 For fear we wake her ; — Softly, gentle Patience. 
 
 The J'isijin. Enter, solemnly trip/nnff one after 
 anolhtr, si.c Personages, clad in. white robes, 
 ivcaring on their heads garlands of bays and 
 HoLden vizards on. tlwir faces : In-anches of bays 
 or palm in their han. Is. They first congee un'to 
 her, then dance ; and, at certain changes, the first 
 two Itid'l a .•ip'irt' Kurhuid imr tier head; at which, 
 the (d her four make rrrercnd court'sies; then the 
 two that held the garlanl. deliver the same to tliC 
 other next two, u-hn ohxcrve the same order in 
 their changes, and holding the garland over her 
 head; which done, they deliver the same garland 
 to the last tujo, whn likewLie obseree the same or- 
 der: at which, {as it were bi/ inspiratinn,) she 
 makes in tier sleep signs (f rejaiciiiii.and hiildeth 
 tip her hrind.s to heaven : and su in their dancing 
 they vanish, carrying the garland with them. 
 The music continues. 
 
 Kath. Spirits of peace, where are yel Are ye all 
 gone ! 
 And leave me here in wretchedness behind yel 
 
 (jrif. Madam, we are here. 
 
 Kalh. It is not you I call for : 
 
 Saw ye none enter, since I slept ! 
 
 Orif. None, madam. 
 
 hath. No? Saw you not.evennow, a blessed troop 
 Iiiviii' me to a baiiquet; whose bright faces 
 Cast Ihousand beams upon me, like the sun? 
 Tlu'y promis'd mo eternal happiness ; 
 And brought me garlands, Grilfith, which I feel 
 1 am not worthy yet to wear: I shall. 
 Assuredly. 
 
 Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good 
 dreams 
 Possess your fancy. 
 
 Katli. Rid the music leave, 
 
 They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases. 
 
 Pat. Do you note, 
 
 llow much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? 
 How long her liice is drawn ! How pale she looks. 
 And of an earthy cold T Mark you her eyes ] 
 
 Urif. She is going, wench ; pray. pray. 
 
 Pal. Heaven comfort her ? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. An't like your grace, — 
 Kath. You are a saucy fellow: 
 
 Deserve we no more reverence ! 
 
 Grif. You are to blame. 
 
 Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness. 
 To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel. 
 
 Me.ss.l luinibiy do entreat your highness' pardon : 
 My haste made me unmannerly; There is staying 
 A genlleman, sent from the kiiig, to see you. 
 Kath. Admit him entrance, GrilHth: But this 
 fellow 
 Let ine ne'er see again. 
 
 [Exeunt GvaFFiTU and Messenger. 
 
 Re-enter Griffith ivith Capucids. 
 If my sight fail not. 
 You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, 
 My royal nephew, and your name Capucius, 
 
 Vaj). Madam, the same, your servant. 
 
 h'alh. o, my lord, 
 
 The limes, and titles, now are alter'd strangely 
 With me, since lirst you knew me. But, I pray you, 
 What IS your pleasure with me ! 
 
 Cap. Noble lady, 
 
 First, mine own service '^o your grace ;.the next, 
 The king's request that I would visit you ; 
 Who grieves much lor your wsakness, and bynu 
 Sends you his jirincely commendations, 
 Ami hearlily enlreats you take good comfort. 
 
 Kath. O my good lord, that comlbrt comes too 
 late; 
 'Tis like a pardon after execution: . 
 That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me ; 
 But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. 
 How does his highness ? 
 
 Cap. Madam, in good health. 
 
 A'n/A. So may he ever do I and ever llourish, 
 Wlien 1 shall dwell with worms, and my poor name 
 Banish'd the kingdom !— Patience, is that letter 
 I caus'd you vvrite, yet sent away ? 
 
 •''«'• No, m.idam. 
 
 [Givin g it to Katharinb. 
 
 Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver 
 This to my lord the king. 
 
 Cap. Most willing, madam. 
 
 hath. In which I have commended to his good- 
 ness 
 The model of our chaste loves, his young daugh- 
 ter ;3 — 
 The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her! — 
 Beseeching him to give her vii^uous breeding; 
 (She is young, and of a noble TOodest nature; 
 1 hope, she will deserve well;)jmd a little 
 To love her for her mother's saTie, that lov'd him. 
 Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition 
 Is, that his noble grace would have some pity 
 Upon my wretched women, that so long 
 Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully : 
 Of which there is not one, I dare avow, 
 (And now I should not lie,) but will deserve 
 For virtue, and true beauty of the soul, 
 For honesty, and decent carriage, 
 A right good husband, let him be a noble; 
 And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 
 
 them. 
 The last is, for my men :— they are the poorest, 
 But poverty could never draw them from me:— 
 That they may have their wages duly paid them, 
 And something over to remember me by ; 
 If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life. 
 And able means, we had not parted thus. 
 These are the whole contents;— And, good mv 
 lord, ■* 
 
 By that you love the dearest in this world. 
 As you wish christian peace to-souls departed. 
 Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king 
 To do me this last right. 
 
 Cap. By heaven, I will; 
 
 Or let me lose the fashion ol a man ! 
 
 Kath. 1 thank you, honest lord. Remember me 
 In all humility unto his highness : 
 Say, his long trouble now is passing 
 Out of this world: tell him. in death I bless'd him, 
 For so I will.— Mine eyes grow dim.— Farewell, 
 My lord.— Griffith, farewell.— Nay, Patience, 
 You must not leave me yet. I must to bed ; 
 Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench, 
 Let me be used with honor; strew me over 
 With maiden llowers, that all the world may know 
 I was a chaste wife to my grave ; embalm me. 
 Then lay me Ibrlh: although unqueen'd, yet like 
 A queen, and daughter to a king, inter mi-'. 
 
 1 can no more. [Exeunt, leading Katiiari.\e. 
 
 =* .iftcrwaids queen Mai'y. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 497 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.—A Gall^ 'j m the Palace. 
 
 Enter Gakdixer, BUhop rif Winchcstpr, a Page, 
 with a Turc/i before kuii. Ml by Sm Thomas 
 
 LOVELL. 
 
 Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't lift ? 
 
 Biju . It hath struck. 
 
 Udr. These should be hours for necessities, 
 JCot (itr deiiy:h(^ ; times to repair ov/r nature 
 With coniibrtiug repose, auci not (or us 
 To waste tliese times. — (Jood hour of night, sir 
 
 Thomas ! 
 Whither so late ? 
 
 Lov. Came you from tlie king, my lord ? 
 
 Gar. I did, sir Tliomas; and left him at pfimero^ 
 With the duke of Sullblk. 
 
 I'Ov. I must to him too, 
 
 Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. 
 
 Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the 
 matter \ 
 It seems, you are in haste: an if there be 
 No great otli-nce belongs to't, give your li-iend 
 Some touch of your late business: Aflairs, that 
 
 walk 
 (As, they say spirits do) at midnight, have 
 In them a wilder nature, than the business 
 That seeks despatch by day. 
 
 Lav. My lord, I love you: 
 
 And durst commend a secret to your ear 
 Much weightier than this work. The queen's in 
 
 labor. 
 They say, in great extremity ; and fear'd. 
 She'll with the labor end. 
 
 Oar. The fruit, she goes with, 
 
 I pray for heartily; that it may tiud 
 Good time, and live : but lor the stock, sir Thomas, 
 I wish it grubb'd up now. 
 
 L<fV. Methinks, I could 
 
 Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says 
 She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does 
 Deserve our better wishes. 
 
 Oar. But, sir, sir,— 
 
 Hear rae, sir Thomas : you are a gentleman 
 Of mine own way; I know jou wise, religious; 
 And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,— 
 'Twill not, sir Thomas LovcU, take't of me. 
 Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, 
 Sleep in their graves. 
 
 I^w. Now, sir, you speak of two 
 
 The most remark'd i' the kingdoin. As for Crom- 
 well, — 
 Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master 
 O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir. 
 Stands in the gap and trade of more prelerments. 
 With which the time will load him: The archbi- 
 shop 
 Is the king' hand, and tongue; And who dare 
 
 speak 
 One syllable against him 7 
 
 Gar. Yes, yes, sir Thomas, 
 
 There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd 
 To speak my mind of him : a'mj, indeed, this day, 
 Sir, (I niay tell it you,) I think, 1 have 
 Incens'd' the lords o' the council, that lie is 
 (For so I know he is, they know he is) 
 A most arch heretic, a pestilence 
 That does infect the laud : with which they moved. 
 Have broken with* the king; who hath so far 
 Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace 
 And princely care; foreseeim; those fell mischiefs 
 Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded 
 To-morrow morning to the council-board 
 He be conveuted.- He's a rank weed, sir Thomas, 
 And we must root him out. From your afliiirs 
 I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas. 
 
 iot'. Many good nights, my lord: I rest your 
 servant. [Exeunt Gardiner and Page. 
 As Lovell is gning out, enter tfie Kisa and ilie 
 Duke of Suffolk. 
 
 K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night; 
 
 My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me. 
 
 « A g-inie at cards. 'St-toD. ' Told their minds to. 
 
 ^ Summoned. 
 
 32 
 
 .Si//. Sir, I did never win of you before. 
 A'. Hen. But little, Charles; 
 Nor shall not. when my fancy's on my play, — 
 Now, Lovell. Irom the ipieen what is the news? 
 
 Lav. I could not personally deliver to her 
 What you commanded me, but bv her woman 
 I sent your message; who retunrd her thanks 
 In the greatest humbleness, and desired your high- 
 ness 
 Most heartily to pray for her. 
 
 A'. Hen. What say'st thou 7 ha? 
 
 To pray lor her ? what, is she crying out ! 
 
 Lav. So said her woman ; ancl that her suffer- 
 ance made 
 Almost each pang a death. 
 
 A'. Hen. Alas, good lady ! 
 
 Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and 
 With gentle travail, to the gladding of 
 Your highness with an heir! 
 
 A'. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charles, 
 
 Pr ythee, to bed ; and in thy prayers remember 
 The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone, 
 For I must think of that, which company 
 Will not be friendly to. 
 
 ^af. I wish 5'our highness 
 
 A quiet night, and my good mistress will 
 Remember in my prayers. 
 
 AT. Hen. Charles, good night. 
 
 [Exit Suffolk. 
 Enter Sm Axthont De.n.vy. 
 Well, sir, what follows ? 
 
 Den. Sir, 1 have brought my lord the archbishop, 
 As you commanded me. 
 
 A'. Hen. Ha! Canterbury! 
 
 Den. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis true: Where is he, Denny? 
 
 Den. He attends your highness' pleasure. 
 
 K. Hen. Bi'iig him to us. 
 
 [Exit Denny. 
 
 Lnv. This is about that which the bishop spake; 
 I am happily come hither. [Aside. 
 
 Re-enter Denxv, with Cranmeh. 
 
 A'. Hen. Avoid the gallery. 
 
 [Lovell seems to slai/. 
 Ha ! — I have said.— Be gone. 
 What — [Exeunt Lovell and Denxv. 
 
 ^ Cran. I am fearful : Wherefore frowns he thus? 
 Tis his asp,k-t of terror. All's not well. 
 
 K. Hen. How now, my lord 1 You do desire to 
 know 
 Wherefore 1 sent for you 
 
 Cran. It is my duty. 
 
 To attend your highness' pleasure. 
 
 A'. Hen. Pray you, arise, 
 
 My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. 
 Come, you and I must walk a turn together; 
 I have news to tell you : Come, colne, give uie 
 
 your hand. 
 Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak. 
 And am right sorry to repeat what follows : 
 1 have, and most unwillingly, of late 
 Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord. 
 Grievous complaints of you; which, being con 
 
 sider'd. 
 Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall 
 This morning come before us; where, I know. 
 You cannot with such freedom purge yourself, 
 But that, till further trial in those charges 
 Which will require your answers, you must take 
 Your patience to you, and be well contented 
 To make your house our Tower; You a brother of 
 
 US,» 
 
 It tits we thus proceed, or else no witness 
 Would come against you. 
 
 Cran. I humbly thank your highness , 
 
 And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
 Most thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chart 
 And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know. 
 There's none stands under more calumnious 
 
 tongues, 
 TlianI myself, poor man. 
 
 ' One of the council. 
 
498 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 K. lien. Stand up, good Canterbury ; 
 
 Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted 
 In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up; 
 Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-danie, _ 
 What manner of man are you \ My lord. I look d 
 You would have given me your petition, tliat 
 1 should have ta'en some pains to bring together 
 Yourself and your aecu.sers ; and to have heard you 
 Without indurance, further. 
 
 Crun. Most dread liege, 
 
 The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty ; 
 If Ihey shall fail, I, with mine enemies. 
 Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, 
 Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing 
 Whal can be said against me. 
 
 A'. }len. Know you not how 
 
 Y'our stale stands i' the world, with the whole world! 
 Your enemies 
 
 Are' many, and not small ; their practices 
 Must bear the same jiroportion : and not ever 
 The justice and the truth o' the question carries 
 The due o' the verdict with it : At what ease 
 Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
 Toswcar against you! such things have been done. 
 Vou are potently oppos'd ; and with a malice 
 Of as great size. Ween" you of better luck. 
 I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master, 
 Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv d 
 
 Upon this naughty earth 1 Go to, go to ; 
 
 You take a precipice for no leap of danger, 
 
 And woo your own destruction. 
 Crun. God, and your majesty. 
 
 Protect mine innocence, or I liiU into 
 
 The trap is laid for me ! 
 K. lien. Be of good cheer; 
 
 Tiiey shall no more prevail, than wc give way to. 
 
 Keep comfort to you; and this morning see 
 
 You do appear betore them : if they shall chance, 
 
 In charging you with matters, to commit you, 
 
 The best persuasions to the contrary 
 
 Fail not to use, and with what vehemency 
 
 Tlic occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties 
 
 Will render you no remedy, this ring 
 
 Deliver them, and your appeal to us 
 
 Tliere make before them.— Look, the good man 
 weeps ! 
 
 He's honest, on mine honor. God s blest mother ! 
 
 I swear, he is true-hearted ; and a soul 
 
 None better in my kingdom.— Get you gone. 
 
 And do as I have bid you.— [i,'xi/ Cu.\.\meii.] He 
 has strangled 
 
 His language in his tears. 
 
 Enter an old Lady. 
 
 Gent- [Witlim.] Come back; What mean s-ou? 
 
 Ladq. I'll not come back; the tidings that 1 bring 
 Will make my boldness manners.— Now, good 
 
 angels 
 Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person 
 Under their blessed wings! 
 
 K. lien. Now, by thy looks 
 
 I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd 1 
 Say, ay ; and of a boy 1 
 
 Ladi/. Ay, ay, my liege ; 
 
 And of a lovely boy : The God of heaven 
 Botli now and ever bless her! — 'tis a girl, 
 Priuiuses boys hereafter. Sir, your queen 
 Desires your visitation, and to be 
 Aci]uaiiilcd Willi this stranger; 'tis as like you 
 As cheirv is to cherry. 
 
 K. Hen. Lovel!,— 
 
 Enter Lovell. 
 J.nv. Sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I II to 
 the queen. \Exit King. 
 
 Lady. An hundred marks! by this liglit,I'll have 
 mure : 
 An ordinary groom is for such payment; 
 1 will have more, or scold it out ot him. 
 Saul 1 lor this, the girl is like to him? 
 1 will have more, or else unsay't; and now 
 While it IS hot, I'll put it to the issue. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCKNE U.—Lolihy bijure the CmmcU-Cfiamber. 
 lunler CHA.nmek; Servants, Door-Keeper, SrC, at- 
 tending. 
 Cran. I hope, I am not too late ; and yet the 
 gentleniiiii, 
 
 > Think. 
 
 That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me 
 To make great haste. All fast ! what means this' 
 
 — Hoa ! 
 Who waits there?— Sure you know me 7 
 
 D. Keep. Yes, my lord ; 
 
 But yet 1 cannot help you. 
 Cran. Why! 
 
 X). lieep. Your grace must wait till you be call d 
 lor. 
 
 Enter Doctor Butts. 
 Cran. So. 
 
 Butts. This is a piece of malice; I am glad 
 I came this way so happily: The king 
 Shall understand it presently. \Exil BcTrs. 
 
 Cran. [Aside.] 'Tis Butts, 
 
 The king's physician : As he past along, 
 How earnestly he east Ins eyes upon me ! 
 Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For cer- 
 tain, 
 This is of purpose lay'd, by .some that halo me, 
 (God turn theirhearts'! I nevcrsought their malice ,5 
 To quench mine honor: they would shame to 
 
 make me 
 Wait else at door; a fellow-counsellor. 
 Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their 
 
 pleasures 
 Must be fulrtll'd, and I attend with patience. 
 
 Enter, at a Window above, t/ie King and Bdtts. 
 
 Bulls. I'll show your grace the strangest .sight, — 
 
 K. Hen. What's Ihat, Butts? 
 
 Bulls. I think your highness saw this many a day. 
 
 K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it ! 
 
 Bulls. There, my lord" 
 
 The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury ; 
 Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pur.suivants, 
 Pages, and footboys, 
 
 K. Hen. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed: 
 
 Is this the honor they do one another ! 
 'Tiswell.there'soneabovelhem jet. 1 hadthought. 
 They had parted so much honesty amongst them, 
 (At least, good manners,) as not thus to suffer 
 A man of his place, and so near our favor. 
 To dance attendance on their lordship's pleasures, 
 And at the door too, like a post with jiackets. 
 By holy Mary. Butts, there's knavery: 
 Let them alone, and draw the curtain close; 
 We shall hear more anon.— [Exempt. 
 
 The Council-Chamber. 
 Enter the Lord Chancellor, Ihe Dikes of Sitfolk 
 and Norfolk, Kaui. of Sirrey, Lord Cham- 
 berlain, Gardinkr, and Chomwei.l. The Chan- 
 cellor places himself at Ihe tipper end of the 
 Table, on the left hand ; a Heat being left void 
 iihove him, as firr ihe Archbishop of Canter- 
 BiMiY. The rest seat themselces in order on each 
 side. Cromwell at Ihe loiver end a.i Secretary. 
 Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary : 
 Why are we met in council ! 
 
 C'roni. Please your honors. 
 
 The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. 
 Car. Has he had knowledge of it? 
 Crom. Yes. 
 
 JVw. Who waits there ' 
 
 B. Keep. Without, my noble lords ? 
 Oar. Yej. 
 
 D. Keep. My lord archbishop ; 
 
 And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. 
 Chan. Let him come in. 
 
 D. Keep. Your grace may enter now 
 
 [Cranmer approaches tlie Council-Table. 
 Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry 
 To sit here at this present, and behold 
 That chair stand empty : But we all are men. 
 In our own natures frail ■ out of which frailty. 
 And want ofwisdom, you, that best should tea<;h us, 
 Have misdemcan'd yourself and not a little, 
 Toward the king tirst, then his laws, in niling 
 The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap- 
 lains, 
 (For so we are inform d.) with new opinions, 
 Divers and dangerous, which are heresies. 
 And, not relbrm'd, may prove pernicious. 
 
 (Jar. Which reformation must be sudden too. 
 
 My noble lords : lor those that tame wild horses. 
 
 Pace them not ill their hands to make them gentle; 
 
 But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 
 
 them, 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 499 
 
 Till they obey llie manage. If we suffer 
 
 (Out olour easiness and cliildisli pity 
 
 To one man's honor) tliis contagious sickness, 
 
 Farewell, all physic; And wh.at follows then^ 
 
 Commotions, uproars, wilh a general taint 
 
 Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbors, 
 
 The upper Germany, can dearly witness, 
 
 Yet freshly pitied in our memories. 
 
 Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress 
 Both of my life and office, I have labor'd, 
 And with no little study, that my teaching. 
 And the strong course of my authority. 
 Might go one way, and salely; and tlie end 
 Was ever, to do \vell ; nor is there living, 
 (I speak it with a single liearl, my lords,) 
 A man, that more detests, more stirs against, 
 liolh in his private conscience, and his place, 
 Dcliicers of a public jieace, ilian I do. 
 'Piay heaven, the king may never tind a heart 
 AViih less allegiance in il !' Men, that make 
 Knvy, and crooked malice, nourishment. 
 Dare bite the best. 1 do beseech your lordships, 
 That, in tjiis case of justice, my accusers, 
 lie what they will, may stand forth face to face, 
 And freely urge against me. 
 
 S"/. Nay, my lord. 
 
 That cannot be; you are a counsellor. 
 And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse youte* 
 
 Gar. My lord, because we have business of more 
 moment. 
 We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' 
 
 pleasure, 
 And our c msent, for better trial of you, 
 Krom heme you be comniitled to the Tower; 
 Where, being but a private man again, 
 You shall know many dare accuse you boldly. 
 More than, 1 fear, you are jirovided for. 
 
 Cron.Ah, my good lord ofVVinehester.I thank you. 
 You are always my good friend; if your will pass, 
 I shall both Hiid your lordship judge and juror, 
 \'ou are so merciful; I see your end, 
 'Tis my undoing : l.ove, and meekness, lord, 
 Become a churchman belter than ambition ; 
 Win straying souls with modesty again. 
 Cast none away. That 1 shall clear myself. 
 Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, 
 1 make as little doubt, as you do conscience, 
 111 doing daily wrongs. 1 could say more. 
 Hut reverence to your calling makes me modest. 
 
 iiar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary. 
 That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers, 
 To men that understand you, words and weakness. 
 
 Crom. My lord of Wiuchester, you are a little, 
 By your good favor, too sliarp ; nien so noble, 
 However faulty, yet should lind respect 
 For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty. 
 To load a falling man. 
 
 Oar, Good master secretary, 
 
 I cry vour honor mercy ; you may, worst 
 Of all this table, say so. 
 
 Crum. Why, my lord ! 
 
 (Jar. Do not I know you liir a liivorer 
 Of this new sect ? Ye arc not sound. 
 
 Crom. Not sound ! 
 
 Gar. Not sound, I say. 
 
 Criim. 'Would you were half so honest ! 
 
 Men sprayers then would seek you, not Iheir tears. 
 
 G(ir. I shall remember this bold language. 
 
 Crom. Do. 
 
 Remember your bold life too. 
 
 Chan. This is too much ; 
 
 Forbear, for shame, my lords. 
 
 Gar. I have done. 
 
 Crum. And I. 
 
 Cluiii. Then thus (or you, my lord,— It stands 
 agreed, 
 I take it, by all voices, that Ibrthwith 
 You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner ; 
 There to remain, till the king's further pleasure 
 Be known unto us: Are you all agreed, lords ' 
 
 A I/. We are. 
 
 Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, 
 
 But I must needs to the Tower, my lords ! 
 
 Gar. What other 
 
 Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome! 
 Let some o' the guard be ready there. 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 Cran. Forme? 
 
 Must 1 go like a traibir lliithcr ? 
 
 Gar. Receive him. 
 
 And see him safe i' the Tower. 
 
 Cran. Stay, good my lords; 
 
 I have a little yet (o say. . Look there, my lords; 
 By virtue of that ring, I take my cau.sc 
 Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it 
 To a most noble jiidi^e, the king my master. 
 
 Cham. This is the king's ring. 
 
 Sur. ^ 'Tis no counterfeit. 
 
 Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven : I told ye all. 
 When we (irst put this dangerous stone a roiling, 
 'Twould fall upon ourselves. 
 
 Nor. Do you think, my lords. 
 
 The king will suffer but the little hnger 
 Of this man to be ve.v'd ? 
 
 Cham. 'Tis now too certain : 
 
 How much more is his life in value with himi 
 'Would I were fairly out on't. 
 
 Crom. My mind gave me. 
 
 In seeking tales, and informations, 
 Against this man, (whose honesty the devil 
 And his disciples (nily envy at,) 
 Ye blew the fire that burns ye : Now have at ye. 
 
 Enter Kisg, frowning on them ; takes his Seat. 
 
 Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound 
 to heaven 
 In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ; 
 Not only good and wise, but most religious; 
 One that, in all obedience, makes the church 
 The chief aim of his honor ; and, to strengthen 
 That holy duty, out of dear respect. 
 His royal self in judgment comes to hear 
 The cause betwixt her and this great ollcndcr ! 
 
 K. lien. You were ever good at sudden com men 
 dations. 
 Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not 
 To bear such llattery now, and in my i)resence ; 
 They arc too thin and base to hide ollcnces. 
 To me you cannot reach ; you play the spaniel. 
 And tliink with wagging of your tongue to win me, 
 But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure. 
 Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. — 
 Good man, [To Cuanmer.] sit down. Now let mo 
 
 see the proudest 
 Ho, that dares most, i)ut wag his finger at thee : 
 By all's that's holy, be bad better starve. 
 Than but once think this place becomes thee not. 
 
 Sur. May rt please >our grace. — 
 
 A'. lien. No, sir, it docs not please me. 
 
 I had thought I had had men of some understand- 
 ing 
 And wisdom, of my council; but I find none. 
 Was it discretion, lords, to let this man. 
 This good man, (few of you deserve that title,) 
 This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy 
 At chamber door ! and one as great as you are? 
 Why, what a shame was this ; Did my commis- 
 sion 
 Bid ye so lar forget yourselves ! I gave ye 
 Power, as he was a counsellor, to try him. 
 Not as a groom : There's some of ye, 1 see. 
 More out of malice than integrity. 
 Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; 
 Which ye shall never have; while I live. 
 
 Chan. Thus far 
 
 My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace. 
 To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd 
 Concerning Ins imprisonment, was rather 
 (If there be faith in men) meant for his trial. 
 And fair purgation to the world, than malice, 
 I am sure, in me. 
 
 A'. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him:; 
 
 Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. 
 ^ will say thus much for him. If a prince 
 May be beholden to a subject, I 
 Am, for his love and service, so to him. 
 Make me no more ado, but all embrace him ? 
 Be friends, for shame, my lords.— My lord of Can- 
 terbury, 
 I have a suit which you must not deny me ; 
 That is, a lair young maid that yet wants baptism. 
 You must be godliither, and answer for her. 
 
 Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory 
 In sueb an honor; How may I deserve it, 
 That am a poor and humble subject to you ? 
 
 A". Ilcn. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your 
 spoons ;i you shall have 
 
 > It w.isan ancu'Titcustom for sponsor».toprcs*.-ntii!poons 
 to their god-chilJi-L-n. 
 
500 
 
 KING HENIIY VIII. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Two noble partners with you ; the old duchess of 
 
 Norfolk, 
 And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you I 
 f)nce mure, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, 
 Embrace, and love th]s man. 
 
 Gar. With a true heart. 
 
 And brother-love, I do it. 
 
 Cnin. And let heaven 
 
 Witness, how dear 1 hold this conhrmalmn. 
 K. Hen. Good man, tliose joyful tears show thy 
 true heart. 
 The common voice, 1 sec, is verified 
 Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Catiter' 
 
 bury 
 A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever, — 
 Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I Ion;;; 
 To have this young one made a Christian. 
 As 1 have made ye one, lords, one remain ; 
 So 1 grow stronger, you more honor gain. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— r/te Palace Yard. 
 
 Noise and Tumult within. Enter Porter and his 
 Man. 
 
 Piyrt. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: 
 Do you take the court for Paris-garden 1- ye rude 
 slavt^s, leave your gaping.3 
 
 [Within.'] Goud master porter, I belong to the 
 larder. 
 
 Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you 
 rogue : Is this the place to roar in ! — Fetch me a 
 dozen crab-tree slaves, and strong ones ; these are 
 but switches to theui.— I'll scralcli your heads: 
 ^ ou must be seeing christenings ! Do you look for 
 ale and Cake here, you rude rascals \ 
 
 Man. Pray, sir, be patieni; 'tis as much impos- 
 sible 
 (Unless we sweep them from the door with can- 
 nous ) 
 To scatter them, as 'lis to make them sleep 
 On .May-day morning; which will never be: 
 We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them. 
 
 Por. How got they in, and be hang'd \ 
 
 Man. Alas, X know not: How geU tl)e tide in? 
 As much as one sound cudgel of four foot 
 (Vou see the poor remainder) could distribute, 
 1 made no spare, sir. 
 
 Port. You did nothing, sir. 
 
 Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Col- 
 brand,' to mow Ihem down betbre me: but, if I 
 spared any, that had a head to hit, either young 
 or old, he or sJie, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me 
 never hope to see a chine again; and that 1 would 
 not for a cow, God save her. 
 
 [/r/Z/ii/i.] Do you hear, master porter 1 
 
 Pfirt. 1 snail be with you presently, good master 
 pi^'Ppy- — Keep the door close, sirrah. 
 
 Man. What would you liave me do? 
 
 Port. What should you do but knock them down 
 by tlie dozens] Is tins Moorhelds to muster in 1 
 or have we some strange Indian with the great tool 
 come to court, the women so besiege us! Bless 
 me, wiiat a fry oi fornication is at door! On my 
 Cliristian conscience, tills one christening will be- 
 get a thousand; here will be father, godliither, and 
 all together. 
 
 Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There 
 is a fellow somewhat near the door, iie should be 
 a brazier by his hice, lor, o' my conscience, twenty 
 of the dog-days now reign in'snose; all that stand 
 about him are under tlie line, they need no other 
 penance: That hre-dtake did i hit tliree times on 
 tilt' head, and three times was his nose discharged 
 against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, 
 to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife or* 
 small wit near him that railed upon me till !ier 
 jmik'd porringer'' lellolfher head, tor kindling such 
 a eombustion in the slate. I miss'd the meteoi-^ 
 once, and hit that woman, wlio cried out, c/ul'^a' / 
 when 1 might see from tar some forty truncheoneers 
 draw to her-suet:or, which were the hoi)e of the 
 Strand, where slie was quartered* They fell on; 
 I iua<le good my i)la<-e; at lengtli they came to the 
 broomstalf with me, 1 deiied ihem still; when sun- 
 denly a hie of bi>ys behind them, loose shot,dehv- 
 cred such a shower of pebbles, that 1 was fain to 
 
 '* The ln'ar gnvLleii on tlu? B;ink-side. ' Koaiinj^. 
 
 * <.)uy of Warwick, nor Colbiiind the Danish Riant. 
 
 I riuk'ii cap. » The brazier. 
 
 draw mine honor in, and let them win the work. 
 The devil was amongst them, I think, surely. 
 
 Port. These are the youths that thunder at a 
 play-house, and tight for bitten apples; that no 
 audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the 
 Limbsof Li mehouse, their dear brothers, are able to 
 endure. I have some of them in Lintbo Palrum^ 
 and there they arc like to dance tliese three days; 
 besides the running banquet of two beadles,^ that 
 is to come. 
 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here- 
 They grows still too, from all parts they are com- 
 
 ins, 
 As if we kept a fair here! Where are tliese por- 
 ters, 
 These lazy knaves'! — Ye have made a tine hand, 
 
 fellows. 
 There's a trim rabble let in : Are all these 
 Your faithful Incndso' the suburbs'? We shall have 
 Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, 
 When they pass back from the christening. 
 
 Port. An't please your honor. 
 
 We are but men ; and what so many may do, 
 IS'ot being torn a pieces, we have done : 
 An army cannot rule them. 
 
 Cham. As 1 live, 
 
 If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all 
 By the heels, and sudtlenly; and on your heads 
 Clapround hnes, for neglect : You are lazy knaves; 
 And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,^ wdien 
 Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound ; 
 They are come already liom the christening: 
 Go, break among the press, a-nd tind a way out 
 To let the troop pass fairly ; or I'll find 
 A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. 
 
 Port. Make way there (or the princess. 
 
 Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll 
 make your head ache. 
 
 Pott. You i' the eamblet, get up o' the rail ; I'll 
 pick I you o'er the pales else. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \Y.—rhe Palace.^ 
 Enter Trumpets, sounding ; then to'o Aldermen, 
 Lord Mayor, Garter, CiiANMER, DmcE of Nou- 
 FOLK, ivith his Marshals Utaff, Ul'ke of Sl'f- 
 FuLK, two Noblemen hearing great standing 
 Bowls for the Christening Gifts ; then four 
 Noblemen, bearing a Canopy, under ivhick the 
 DnCMESS OF NouFor.K, Godmother^ bearing the 
 Cliiid rkhhj habited in a Mantle, SfC., train 
 borne by a Lady, then folbnvs the Marciiion- 
 KHS OF Dorset, the othtr Godmother, and 
 Ladies. The Troop pass once about the Stage, 
 and Garter speaks. 
 
 Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send, 
 prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to' the high 
 and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King and Train. 
 
 Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and 
 the good queen. 
 My noble partners, and myself, thus pray : — 
 All comtbrt, joy, in this most gracious lady, 
 Heaven everla'id up to make parents happy, 
 May hourly lall upon ye I 
 
 A'. Jten. Thank you, good lord archbishop; 
 
 What is her name f 
 
 Cran. Elizabeth. 
 
 A', lien. Stand up, lord. — 
 
 [The King ki'-scs the Child. 
 With this kiss take my blessing; God protect thee I 
 Into whose hands 1 give thy life. 
 
 Cran. Amen. 
 
 K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too 
 prodigal : 
 I thank ye heartily, so shall this lady, 
 When she has so much English. 
 
 Cran, Let nie speak sir, 
 
 For heaven now bids me; and the words 1 utter 
 Let none think flattery, for they'll find tiiem truth, 
 Tliis royal inlant, (Heaven still move about her I) 
 Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
 Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, 
 Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be 
 
 t IM:ice of ronfineniont. » A dessert of h bipiiiiig. 
 
 9 lilack leather vessels to holtl beer. 
 
 ' Pitch. * At Greenwich. 
 
iSCENE IV. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 501 
 
 (liut few now living can behold that goodness) 
 A pattern to all princes living with her, 
 And all that shall suceed : Sheba was never 
 More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue. 
 Than this pure soul shall be ; all princely graces, 
 That mould up sucii a mighty piece as this is. 
 With all Ihe virtues tjiat attend tlie good. 
 Shall still bedoubled on her: truth shall nurse her. 
 Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: 
 She shall be lov'd and fear'd; Her own shall bless 
 
 her : 
 Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 
 And hang tlieir heads witli sorrow : Good grows 
 
 with her: 
 In her dajs, every man shall eat in safety 
 Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing 
 The merry songs of peace to all his neighbors. 
 God shall be truly known ; and those about her 
 from her shall read the perfect ways of honor. 
 And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
 [Nor'' shall this peace sleep witfi her : But as wlien 
 The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, 
 Her ashes new create another heir, 
 As great in admiration as herself; 
 So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
 (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of 
 
 darkness,) 
 Who, from tfie sacred ashes of her Jionor, 
 Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
 And so stand iix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, 
 " This aud Iho followini; seveuteeii Hues wero probal^ly 
 writteu by B. JunsoQ, after the accessiou of king James. 
 
 That were the servants to this chosen infant. 
 Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; 
 Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine. 
 His honor and the greatness of his name 
 Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish., 
 And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 
 
 To all the planis about liim : Our children's 
 
 children 
 Shall see this, and bless heaven. 
 K. Hen. Thou spcakest wonders.] 
 
 Crun. She shall be, to the happiness of England, 
 An aged princess ; many days shall see her. 
 And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 
 'Would I had known no more ! but she must die. 
 She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, 
 A most unspotted lily shall she pass 
 To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her 
 
 A'. Hen. lord archbishop. 
 Thou hast made me now a man ; never, before 
 This happy child, did I get any thing : 
 This oracle ol" comfort has so picas'd me. 
 That, when I am m heaven, I shall desire 
 To see what this child does, and praise my M.aker. — 
 I thank ye all : — To you, my good lord mayor. 
 And your good brethren, I am much beholden; 
 I have received much honor by your presence. 
 And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, 
 
 lords ; 
 Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, 
 She will be sick else. This day, no man think 
 He has business at his house ; tor all shall stay : 
 This httle one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 *Tis ten to one, this play can never please 
 
 All that are here: Some come to take their ease. 
 
 And sleej) an act or two ; but those, we fear. 
 
 We ha*e frighted with our trumiiefs; so. 'tis clear. 
 
 They'll say, 'tis naught: others, lo hear the city 
 
 Abus'd extremely, and to cry, — thills wi/tt/f 
 
 Which we have not done neilher: that, I tear, 
 
 All the expected good we are like to hear 
 For this play at this time, is only in 
 The merciful construction of good women; 
 For such a one we show'd them ; If they smile, 
 And say. 'twill do, I know, within a while 
 All the best men are ours; lor, 'tis ill hap. 
 If they hold, wljcn their lad:cs bid them clap. 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTKD. 
 
 Priam, King of Troy. 
 IfEGTon, 1 
 
 TllOILUS, 
 
 Paris, 'this So7is. 
 
 Duii'iionus, 
 
 Hblf.xls, J 
 
 ^SEAS, j Trojan Commanders. 
 
 Antenor, J ■* J .„ J, 
 
 Calcuas, a Trojan Priest, taJdng part with the 
 
 Greeks. 
 Pandarus, Uncle to Cressida. 
 MAitiiAHKLOS, a bastard son. ofVmm. 
 Ai.EXANiiBJi, Servant to Cressida. 
 Seri-aiit to Tmilus; Hervaid to Paris; Servant to 
 
 Diomt'dcs. 
 
 y Grecian Commander.'!. 
 
 Aoamemnon, the Grecian General. 
 Menelaus, his Brother. 
 Achilles, 
 
 A.IAX, 
 
 Ulysses, 
 
 Nestor, 
 
 Diomedes, 
 
 PATIKK'LL'S, 
 
 Tiiersites, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian. 
 
 Helen, Wife to Menclaiis. 
 Andromache, IVife to Hector. 
 Cassandra, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess, 
 Cressida, Daughter to Calclias. 
 
 Trojan and Greeli Soldiers, and Attenilants. 
 
 SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before il. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 In Troy tliere lies the scene. From isles of 
 Greece 
 The princes orgulous,' their high blood chafed, 
 Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, 
 I-'raught with tlie ministers and instruments 
 Of cruel war : Sixty and nine, that wore 
 Tlieir crowncts regal, from the Athenian bay 
 Put Ibrlh toward Phrvgia : and their vow is made, 
 To ransack Troy ; wi'thin whose strong immures 
 The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen. 
 With wanton Paris sleeps; and tlmt's the quarrel. 
 To Tenedos they coinc ; 
 
 And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 
 Their warlike fraughtage:^ Now on Dardan plains 
 The fresh and yet unbniised Greeks do jiitch 
 Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city, 
 
 Dardan, and Tymbria, Hias, Chctas, Trojan, 
 
 And Antenorides, with massy staples. 
 
 And corresponsive and fuililling holts, 
 
 Spcer^i up the sons of Troy. 
 
 Now, expectation, tickling skittish spirits, 
 
 On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, 
 
 Sets all on hazard : — And hither am I come 
 
 A prologue arm'd, — but not in conlidence 
 
 Of author's pen, or actor's voice; but suited 
 
 111 like conditions as our argument, — 
 
 To tell you, tiiir beholders, that our play 
 
 Leaps o'er the vaunf and firstlings of tliose broils, 
 
 'Ginning in the middle ; starting thence away 
 
 To what may be digested in a play. 
 
 Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ; 
 
 Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE L— Troy. Before Priam's Palace. 
 Enter Troilds, armed, and Pandarus. 
 Tro. Call here my varlet,^ I'll unarm again: 
 Why should I war wilhruil the walls of Troy, 
 That find such cruel bailie here within ! 
 Kiich Trojan, that is master of his heart, 
 Let hiiu to Held; Troilus. alas! halh none. 
 Pan. Will this gear' ne'er be mended ! . 
 
 Tro. The Greeks arc strong, and skilful to their 
 strength. 
 Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness vahant; 
 But I am weaker tliaii a woman's tear. 
 Tamer than sleep, louder' than ignorance; 
 Less valiant than the virgin in the night. 
 And skill-less as unpraelis'd infancy. 
 
 I'lin. Well, I have told vou enough of this: for 
 my part, I'll not meddle mlr make no further. He, 
 ' I'K.ud, disiiainful. ' Fivi.;lit, > ScrT.>iut. < Habit. 
 • \Vi;iiUtT. 
 502 
 
 that will have a cake out o( Ihe wheat, must tarry 
 the grinding. 
 
 Tro. Have I not lorried? 
 
 Pan. Ay, the grinding ; but you must tarry the 
 bolting. 
 
 Tro. Have I not tarried "! 
 
 Pan. Ay, Ihe bolting; but you must tarry the 
 leavening. 
 
 Tro. Still have I tarried. 
 
 Pan. Ay. to the leavening; but here's yet in Ihe 
 word— heiealler, the kneading, the making of the 
 cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, 
 you must stay the cooling loo, or you may chance 
 lo burn vour lips. ^ 
 
 Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e cr she 
 be. 
 Doth lesser blereh" at sulliuance than I do. 
 At Priam's royal table do 1 sit: 
 And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,— 
 e Shut. 1 Av.'vunt, what went before. "Shrink. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 503 
 
 So, traitor! when she comes! When is she 
 
 Ihi'iici''! 
 
 Pan. Wt'll,.--lie look'd yesternight fairer than ever 
 I saw tier look, or any woman else. 
 
 Tro. I was about to tell tliee,--When my heart. 
 As wedged wllh a siRh, would riveS in twain ; 
 l.est Hec;or of niv father should perceive me, 
 I have (as when the sun doth light a storm) 
 Buned this sigh in wrinkle of a sniilc: 
 Hut sorrow, that is couoh'd in seeming gladness, 
 Is like Ihat mirth fate turns to sudden sadne.ss. 
 
 P(fj., An her hair were not somevvhatdarker than 
 HelerV, (well, go to,) there were no more com- 
 parison between the women. — But, for my part, 
 she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term 
 it, praise her, — But I would somebody had heard 
 her talk yesterday, as 1 did. 1 will not dispraise 
 your sister's Cassandra's wit; hut — 
 
 Tru. OPandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,— 
 When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, 
 Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
 They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad 
 In Cressid's love : Thou answer'st. She is fair ; 
 Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
 Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice ; 
 Handiest in thy discourse, 0, that her hand, 
 III whose comparison all whites are ink. 
 Writing their own reproach ; to whose solt seizure 
 The cygnet's down is harsh, and s|iirit of sen.se 
 Hard as the palm of ploughman ! This thou tell'st 
 
 me, 
 As true thou tell'st nie, when I say,— I love her; 
 But, saying thus, instead of oil and halm. 
 Thou laj'st in every gash that love hath given me 
 The knile that made it. 
 
 Pan. 1 speak no more than truth. 
 
 Trn. Thou dost not speak so much. 
 
 Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as 
 she is: if she lie fair, 'lis the better for her; an she 
 be not, she has the mends in her own hands. 
 
 Trn. Good Pandarus ! how now, Pandarus ? 
 
 Pun. I liave had my labor lor my travel ; ill- 
 thought on of her, and "ill-thought on iif you: gone 
 between and between, butsmall thanks lor my labor. 
 
 Tro. Wliat, art thou angry, Pandarus! what, 
 with me i 
 
 Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's 
 not so tiiir as Helen ; an she were not kin to me, 
 she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sun- 
 day. But what care I! I care not, an she were 
 a black-a-moor ; 'tis all one to me. 
 
 Tro. Say I, she is not fair? 
 
 Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's 
 a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the 
 Greeks; and .so I'll tell her the ne.\t time 1 see her: 
 For my part, I'll meddle no make nor more in the 
 matter. 
 
 Tro. Pandarus, — 
 
 Pan. Not I. 
 
 Trn. Sweet Pandarus. — 
 
 Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will 
 leave all as I Ibund it, and there an end. 
 
 [£'a*i/ P.\NDAiti'S. An Alarum. 
 
 Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamors! peace, 
 rude sounds ! 
 Fools on bolh sides! Helen must needs be fiiir. 
 When witli your blood you daily paint her thus. 
 I cannot hglit upon this argument; 
 It is too .starv'd a subject for my sword. 
 But, Pandarus— O gods, how do you plague me ! 
 I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar ; 
 And hf 's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo. 
 As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. 
 Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love. 
 V\lml Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we ! 
 Her bed is India ; there she lies, a pearl : 
 Between our Ilium, and where she resides. 
 Let It be call'd the wild and wandering Hood ; 
 Oiirself, the merchant: and this sailing Pandar, 
 Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. 
 
 Alarum. En/er IEveks. 
 
 jEne. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not 
 
 a-lield I 
 Tro. Because not there: This woman's answer 
 sorts,' 
 1-or womanish it is to be from thence. 
 What news, /Eneas, from the Held to-day 1 
 ' Split. ■ Suits. 
 
 jEne. 
 Tro. 
 jEne. 
 Tro. 
 Paris i 
 ^Ene. 
 
 Tro. 
 
 But, to 
 jEiie. 
 Tro. 
 
 . That Paris is returned home, and hurt. 
 By whom, ,^ncas ? 
 
 Troilus, by Menelaus. 
 Let Paris bleed : 'Tis but a scar to scorn ; 
 1 gor'd with IMcnelaus' horn. [.i/arum. 
 
 , Hark! what good sport is outot town to- 
 day ! 
 
 Better at home, if would I might, were 
 may. — 
 
 the sport abroad— Are you bound thither? 
 . In all swilt haste. 
 
 Come, go we then together. 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— .1 street. 
 
 Enter Cressida and ALE.KANDEit. 
 
 Ores. Who were those went by] 
 
 Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. 
 
 Cres. And whither go they ! 
 
 Alex. Up to the eastern tower, 
 
 Whose height commands as subject all the vale, 
 To see the battle. _ Hector, whose patience 
 Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd : 
 He chid Andromacfit. ancl struck his armorer; 
 And like as there were husbandry in war. 
 Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light. 
 And to the field goes he ; where every tlowcr, 
 Did as a prophel, weep what it foresaw 
 In Hector's wrath. 
 
 Cres. What was his cause of anger? 
 
 Alex. The noise goes, this : There is among Uie 
 Greeks 
 A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector ; 
 They call him Aja.x. 
 
 Cres. Good ; and of him ? 
 
 Alex. They say he is a very man per se,^ 
 And stands alone. 
 
 Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, 
 or have no legs. 
 
 Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts 
 of their particular additions;) he is as valiant as the 
 lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant : a 
 mall into whom nature hath so crowded humors, 
 that Ins valor iscrushed into^ folly, his folly sauced 
 with discretion: there is no man lialli a viltue that 
 he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint 
 but he carries some stain of it : he is melancholy 
 without cause, and merry against the hair:' He 
 hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so 
 out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many 
 hands and no use ; or purblind Argus, all eyes and 
 no sight, 
 
 Cres. But how should this man, that makes ine 
 smile, make Hector angry ? 
 
 Alex. They s,ay, he yesterday coped Hector in 
 the battle, and struck him down ; the disdain and 
 shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fiistins 
 and waking. 
 
 Enter Pa.n'dakis. 
 
 Cres. Who comes here ? 
 
 Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 
 
 Cres. Hector's a gallant man. 
 
 Alex. As may be in the world, lady. 
 
 Pan. What's that? what's that? 
 
 Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. Good morow, cousin Cressid : what do 
 you talk of!— Good morrow, Alexander.— How do 
 you. cousin ? When were }ou at Ilium ! 
 
 Cres. This morning, uncle. 
 
 Pan. What were you talking of when I came ? 
 Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium ! 
 Helen was not up, was she ? 
 
 Cres. Hector was gone ; but Helen was not up. 
 
 Pan. E'en so : Hector was stirring early. 
 
 Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. 
 
 ]*an. Was he angry ? 
 
 Cres. So he says, iiere. 
 
 Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too; 
 he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and 
 there is Troilus will not come far behind him ; let 
 them take liecd of Troilus; I can tell them that 
 too. 
 
 Cres. What, is he angry, too ? 
 
 Pan. Who, Troilus ? Troilus is tlie better man 
 of the two. 
 
 Cres. O, Jupiter ! there's no comparison 
 
 ^ By bimself. 
 * Mingled with. 
 
 3 Cb.iractt.'rs. 
 ' Grain. 
 
504 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act I 
 
 Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector 1 
 Do you know a man, it' you see Jiim ? 
 
 Cres. Ay, if ever I saw him belbre, and knew 
 him. 
 
 Pun. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. 
 
 Crts. Tlicn you say as 1 say ; for I am sure he is 
 not Hector. 
 
 Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some 
 de;;recs. 
 
 CVc5. 'Tis just to each of them ; he is himself. 
 
 Pan. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus ! 1 would he 
 were, — 
 
 Cres. So he is. 
 
 Pan. — "Condition, I had gone barefoot to India. 
 
 Cres. He is not Hector.^ 
 
 Pan. Himself! no, he's not himself. — 'Would 
 'a were himself] Well, the gods are above; Time 
 must Iriend, or end: Well, Troilus, well, — I would 
 my heart were in her body ! — No, Hector is nut a 
 better man than Troilus. 
 
 Ores, tlxcuse me. 
 
 Pan. He is elder. 
 
 Cres. Pardon me, pardon me. 
 
 Pan. The other's not come lo't ; you shall tell 
 me anotlier tale, when the other's come to't. Hector 
 shall not liave liis wit this year. 
 
 Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. 
 
 Pan. Nor his qualities : ■ 
 
 Cres. No matter. 
 
 Pan. Nor his beauty. 
 
 Cres. 'Twould not become him, his own 's bet- 
 ter. 
 
 Pa?i. You have no judgment, niece : Helen her- 
 self swore the other day, that Troilus, tor a brown 
 favor, (for so 'tis, 1 must confess,) — Not brown, 
 neither. 
 
 Cres. No, but brown. 
 
 Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. 
 
 Cres. To say the truth, and not true. 
 
 Pan. She praised Jiis cumplexiiui above Paris. 
 
 Cres. Why, Paris liaih color eiu)ugh. 
 
 Pan. So he has, 
 
 Cres. Then Tioilus should have too much : if she 
 praised him above, his complexion is iugher than 
 his; he having color enough, and the other higher, 
 is loo naming a praise for a good complexion. I 
 iiad as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended 
 Troilus liir a copper nose. 
 
 Pan. 1 swear to you, I think Helen loves him 
 better than Paris. 
 
 Cres. Then slie's a merry Greek, indeed. 
 
 Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to 
 him the other day into a compass'd^ window, — 
 and, ydii Know, he lias not past tinee or four Jiairs 
 on his ciiin. 
 
 Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon 
 bring his particulars therein to a total. 
 
 Piin. Why, he is very young; and yet will he, 
 within tln*ee pound, liil as much as his brother 
 Hector. 
 
 Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter 1' 
 
 Pan. But, to provu to ynu that Helen loves him; 
 — she came, and puts me her white Jiand to his 
 cloven chin,— 
 
 Cres. Juno have mercy ! — How came it cloven 1 
 
 Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled : I think, his 
 smiling becomes him better than any man in all 
 Phrygia. 
 
 Cres. (), he smiles valiantly. 
 
 Pan. Docs he not "! 
 
 Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. 
 
 Pan. Why, go to then:— But to prove to you 
 that Helen loves Troilus, 
 
 Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll 
 prove it so. 
 
 P(tn. Troilus? why he esteems her no more 
 than 1 esteem an addle egg. 
 
 Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as ypu 
 love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the 
 shell, 
 
 }*(/n. 1 cannot choose but laugh, to think how she 
 tickled his chin ;— Indeed, she lias a marvellous 
 white hand, 1 must needs confess. 
 
 Cres. Without the rack. 
 
 Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white 
 hnir on his rhin. 
 
 Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. 
 
 Pa/i. Hut. there was such laughing; — Que 
 Heeuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. 
 
 a Uuw. "I Tbiff. 
 
 Cres. With mill-stones.8 
 
 Pan. And Cassandra laughed. 
 
 Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under 
 the pot of her eyes ; — Did her eyes run o'er too 1 
 
 Pan. And Hector laughed. 
 
 Cres. At what was all this laughing? 
 
 Pan. Merry, at the white iiair tiiat Helen spied 
 on Troilus' cnin. 
 
 Cres. An't had been a green liair, I should Jiave 
 laughed too. 
 
 Pa7i. They laughed not so much at the hair as 
 at his pretty answer. 
 
 Cres. What was his answer? 
 
 Pan. Quoth she, Here^s but one andjxflij hairs 
 on your chin, and one of them is ivhite. 
 
 Cres. This is her question. 
 
 Pan. That's true; make no question of that. Chit 
 andjiftij hairs, quoth he, and one white: That 
 ivhite hair is my father, and all the re.st are tiis .W7is. 
 Jupiter! quotii she, icAicA of these hairs is Pai-is 
 my husband? T/ieforlied one, quoth he; pluck it 
 out, and give it him. But there was such laugh- 
 ing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, 
 and all the rest so laughed, that it passed.^ 
 
 Cres. So let it now ; lor it has been a great 
 while going by. 
 
 Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; 
 think on't. 
 
 Cres. So I do. 
 
 Pan. ril be sworn, 'tis true ; he will weep you 
 an 'twere a man born in April. 
 
 Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere 
 a nettle against May. [^4 Retreat sounded. 
 
 Pan. Hark, they are coming irom the field: Shall 
 we stand uphere,andsee them, as they pass toward 
 Ilium ? good niece, do; sweet niece Cressida. 
 
 Cres. At your pleasure. 
 
 Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here 
 we may see most bravely : Til tell you them all 
 by their names, as they pass by ; but mark Troilus 
 above the rest. 
 
 j^NEAS pas.tes over the Stage. 
 
 Cres. Speak not so loud. 
 
 Pan. That's j^neas; Is not that a brave mani 
 he's one ot the tlowers of Troy, I can tell you: But 
 mark Trnihis ; you shall see anon. 
 
 Cres. Who's that? 
 
 AxTEN'OR passes over. 
 
 Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit. 1 
 can tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's 
 one o' the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever, 
 and a proper man of person: — Wlien comes Troi- 
 lus? — I'll show you Troilus anon; if he see me, 
 you shall see him nod at me. 
 
 Cres. Will he give you the nod?' 
 
 Pan. You shall see. 
 
 Cres. If Jie do, the rich shall liave more. 
 
 Hector passes over. 
 
 Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that: 
 There's a fellow!— Go thy way, Hector;— There's 
 a brave man, niece. — brave Hector '—Look, 
 how he looks! there's a countenance: Is't not {i 
 brave man ? 
 
 Cres. (). a brave man I 
 
 Pan. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good. — 
 Look you what hack^ are on his helmet ! look you 
 yonder, do you sce?^ look you tlu-re I There's no 
 jesting: there's laying on; take't olf who will, as 
 they say : there be hacks ! 
 
 Cres. Be those with swords ? 
 
 Paris passes over. 
 
 Pan. Swords? any thing, he cares not: an the 
 devil come to him, it's all one: By god's lid it does 
 one's heart good : — Yonder comes Paris, yonder 
 comes Paris: look ye yonder, niece; Is't not a gal- 
 lant man, too, is't not?— Why. this is brave now. 
 —Who said, he came hurt home to-day ? he s not 
 hurt: why this will do Helen's heart good now.— 
 Ha! would I could see Troilus now !— you shall 
 see Troilus anon. 
 
 Cres. Who's that ? 
 
 Hkleni'S passes over. 
 Pan. That's Helcnus,— I marvel, where Troilua 
 8 A prnverbiul saying. » Went beyond bounds 
 
 * A term iu tho jjaino at c;\rds called noddy 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TEOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 505 
 
 is: — That's Hrlenus; — I think he went not forth 
 to-flay : — That'a Helenus. 
 
 Cres. Can Hrlciius light, uncle 1 
 
 Pa/u Helenus! no; — yes, iie'U fight indifferent 
 well: — I marvel, where Troilus is! — Hark; do 
 you not hear the people cry, Troilus 1 — Helenus is 
 a priest. 
 
 Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder] 
 
 Troilus passes over. 
 
 Pan. Where? yonder] that's Deiphobus: 'Tis 
 Troilus! there's a man, niece! — Hem! — Brave 
 Troilus! the prince of chivalry ! 
 
 Cres. Peace, for shame, peace ! 
 
 Pan. Mark him; note him; — brave Troilus! 
 — look well upon liiin, niece; look you. how his 
 sword is bloodied, and his helm more h;ick*d tlian 
 Hector's ; And how he looks, and how he goes ! 
 — O admirable youth ! he ne'er saw three and 
 twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way : had I 
 a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he 
 should take his choice. O admirable man ! Paris ] 
 — Paris is dirt to liim ; and, I warrant, Helen, to 
 change, would give an eye to boot. 
 
 Forces pass over the Stage. 
 
 Cres. Here come more. 
 
 Pan. Asses, fools, dolts ! chaff and bran, chalT 
 and bran; poiTidge alter meat! I could live and die 
 i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the 
 eagles are gone ; crows and daws, crows and daws ! 
 I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than Aga- 
 memnon and all Greece. 
 
 Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a 
 better man than Troilus. 
 
 Pan. Achilles! a drayman, a porter,a very camel. 
 
 Cres. Well, well. 
 
 Pan. Well, well? — Why, have you any di.'scre- 
 tion] have jou any eyes 1 Do you know what a 
 man is ! Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, 
 manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, libe- 
 rahty, and such like, the spice and salt that season 
 a man ! 
 
 Cres. Ay, a minced man ; and then to be baked 
 with 110 date- in the pye, — lor then the man's date 
 is out. 
 
 Pun. You are such a woman ! one knows not at 
 what ward3 you lie. 
 
 Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon 
 my wit, to defend my wiles ; upon my secrecy, to 
 delend mine honesty; my mask, to delend my 
 beauty; and you to defend all these; and at all 
 tliese wards I lie, at a thousand watches. 
 
 Pan. Say one of your watches. 
 
 Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's 
 one of the chielest of them too; if I cannot ward 
 what I would not have hit, 1 can watch you lor 
 telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past 
 hiding, and then it is past watching. 
 
 Enter TuoiLis' Boy. 
 
 Bo!/. S'ii-, my lord would instantly speak with you. 
 
 Pw). Where ! 
 
 Bin/. At your own house; there he unarms him. 
 
 Pfni. Good boy. tell him I come: [Exit Boy.] 
 I doubt he be hurt. — Fare ye well, good niece. 
 
 Cres. Adieu, uncle. 
 
 Pun. I'll be with you, niece, by-and-by. 
 
 Cres. To bring, uncle, 
 
 Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus. 
 
 Cres. By the same token — you are a bawd.-=- 
 
 [Exit P.\xrnuus. 
 Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice. 
 He ottt-rs in another's enterprise : 
 But more in Troilus thousand fold I see 
 Than in the glass of Paiidar's i>raise may be: 
 Yet hold 1 olfl Women are angels, wooing : 
 I'hings won are done, joj-'s soul lies in the doing: 
 That she belov'd knows nought, that knows not 
 
 this, — 
 Men prize tlie thing ungain'd more than it is : 
 That she was never yet that ever knew 
 Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue: 
 Therefore this maxim out of love I teach, — 
 Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech: 
 Then though my heart's content firm love doth 
 
 bear. 
 Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [Exit. 
 
 9 D.itL-s were an ingreilifut lu ancient pastry of almost 
 every kind. a Guard. 
 
 .SCKNE III.— TAe Grecian Camp. Before 
 
 Agamemnon's Tent. 
 
 Trumpets. Enter Agamemson, Nestor, Ulysses, 
 
 Me.n'elaus, and others. 
 
 Agam. Princes, 
 What grief hath set the jaundice on your clieeksl 
 The ample proposition, that hope makes 
 In all designs begun on earth below, 
 Fai Is in the promis'd largeness ; checksand disas (era 
 Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd; 
 .\s knots, by the confiux of meeting sap. 
 Infect the sound pine, and divert liis grain 
 Tortive and errant^ from his course of growth. 
 Nor, princes, is it matter new to us. 
 That we come short of our suppose so far. 
 That, allcr seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand , 
 Silhi every action that hath gone belbre. 
 Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
 Bias and thwart, not answering the aim. 
 And that unbodied figure of the thought 
 Thatgave'tsurmisedshape. Why then, you princes, 
 Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works; 
 And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought 
 
 else 
 But the jirotractive trials of great Jove, 
 To find persistive constancy m men ! 
 The fineness of which metal is not found 
 In Ibrtu lie's love; lor them, the bold and coward,' 
 The wise and fool, the artist and unread. 
 The hard and soil, seem all alfineds and kin ; 
 But, in the wind and tempest of her frown. 
 Distinction, with a broad and powerful Ian 
 Putliug at all, winnows the light away; 
 And what hath mass, or matter, by itself 
 Lies, rich in virtue, and uiimingled. 
 
 jVfs/. With due observance ot thy godlike seat, 
 (ireat Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply 
 Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance. 
 Lies the true jiroof of men ; The sea being smooth. 
 How many shallow bauble boats dare sail 
 Upon her patient breast, making their way 
 With those ol' nobler bulk! 
 But let the rutiian Boreas once enrage 
 The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold 
 The strong-nbb'd bark through liquid mountains 
 
 cut. 
 Bounding between the two moist elements, 
 Like Perseus' horse: Where's then the saucy boat. 
 Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
 Co-rival'd greatness'! either to harbor lied, 
 Or made a toast lor Neptune. Even so 
 Doth valor's show, and valor's worth, divide. 
 In storms of fortune : For, in her ray and bright- 
 ness. 
 The herd hath more annoyance by the brize,^ 
 Than by the tiger: but when the splitting wind 
 Makes Uexiblc the knees of knotted oaks. 
 And files ficd under shade, why, then, the thing 
 
 of courage. 
 As rous'd with rage, with ra";e doth sympathize, 
 And, with an accent tuned the self-same key, 
 I'.eturns to chiding fortune. 
 
 Ulyss. A gamemnon, — ■ 
 
 Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, 
 Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit. 
 In whom the tempers and the minds of all 
 Should be shut up,— hear what Ulysses speaks. 
 Bc.'ides the ajiplause and approbation. 
 The which. — most mighty lor thy place and 
 sway, — [To AoAMEMN'o.v. 
 
 .\nd thou most reverend for thy slretch'd-out life, — 
 
 [roNEsroR. 
 I give to both your speeches, — which were such, 
 As Agameniuon and the hand of Greece 
 Should hold up high in brass; and such again. 
 As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver. 
 Should with a bond of air, (strong as the axle-tree 
 On which heaven rides,) kuit all the Greekish ears 
 To his experienced tongue, — yet let it please 
 
 both,— 
 Thou great,— and wise,— to hear Ulysses speak. 
 
 Agam. S|ieak, prince of Ithaca; and be'tofless 
 exiiecf* 
 That matter needless, of importless burden, 
 Divide thy lips: than we are confident. 
 When rank Thersites opes his mastitl'jaws, 
 We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. 
 
 • Twisted .-ind ramljling. t, Since, e Joined bv .iffinity 
 
 ' The Bad-ay that stings cattle. • Kxpectalion. 
 
h06 
 
 TKOILTJS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act I 
 
 Uh/ss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had Ncen down, 
 And tlie great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, 
 But fur these instances. 
 The specialty of rule^ hath been neglected : 
 And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand 
 Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. 
 When that the f^eneral is not like the hive, 
 To wliom the foragers shall all repair, 
 What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,^ 
 The unwor'thiest shows as fairly in the mask. 
 The heavens themselves, the planets,and thisccntre, 
 Observe degree, priority, and place, 
 lnsisture,2 course, proportion, season, form, 
 Otlice, and custom, in all Une of order; 
 And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol, 
 In iiiiblc eminence enthron'd and spher'd 
 AMild^t the other; whose med'cinabie eye 
 Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, 
 And posts, like the commandment of a king, 
 Sans3 check, to good and bad : But when the planets, 
 In evil mixture, to disorder wander. 
 What plagues, and what portents ] what mutiny 1 
 What raging of the sea T shaking of earth ? 
 Commotion in the winds'? friglits, changes, horrors, 
 Divert and crack, rend and deracmate^ 
 The unity and married calm of states 
 Quite from their lixture? O, when degree is shaked, 
 Winch is tlie ladder of all high designs, 
 The enterprise is sick! How could communities, 
 Di'groes in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, 
 Peact'ful commerce from dividablc'^ shores, 
 Tlir j)rimogenitive and due of birth, 
 PreroL^ative of age. crowns, sceptres, laurels, 
 But by degree, stand in authentic place ] 
 Takr but degree away, untune that string, 
 And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets 
 In mere'> oppugnancy : The bounded waters 
 Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, 
 And make a sop of all this solid globe : 
 Strength should be lord of imbecility. 
 And the rude son should strike his lather dead: 
 Force should be nglit ; or, rather, right and wrong 
 (Between whose endless jar justice resides) 
 Should lose their names, and so should justice too. 
 Then every thing includes itself in power. 
 Power into will, will into appetite; 
 And nppetito, an universal w'olf. 
 So doubly seconded with will and power, 
 Must make perlorcc an universal prey, 
 And. last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, 
 Tins chaos, when degree is sutibcale, 
 Follows tlio ciioking. 
 And this neglection of degree it is, ' 
 Tliat by a pace goes backward, with a purpose 
 It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd 
 By him one step below ; he, by the next ; 
 That next by him beneath : so every step, 
 Exampled by the tirst pace that is sick 
 Of his superior, grows to an envious lever 
 Of paie and bloodless emulation : 
 And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, 
 Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, 
 Troy in your weakness stands, not in her strength. 
 
 Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd 
 The tever whereof all our power is sick. 
 
 Again. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, 
 What is the remedy ! 
 
 i;7/A*>*. The great Achilles, — whomopinioncrowns 
 The sinew and the forehand of our host, — 
 Having his ear full of his airy fame, 
 Grows dainty of his worth, and in Ins tent 
 Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus, 
 Ui)on a lazy bed, the live-long day 
 Breaks scurril jests ; 
 
 And with ridiculous and awkward action 
 (Which, slanderer, he imitation calls) 
 Hi.' pa^ieaiils" us. Sometime, great Agamemnon. 
 Thy loi>Iess-* reputation he putjs on ; 
 And. like a strutting player. — whose conceit 
 Lies in liis tiani'^tiim;. and doth think it rich 
 To tiear the wnmloii dialogue and sound 
 'Twixt his stretclfd looting and the scalToldage,9 
 Such to-hc-iiitied and o'er-wn-sted' seeming 
 He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks, 
 'Tis like a chime a mending ; with terms unsquared, 
 Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhondropp'd, 
 
 « Itiirhfs of autbority. * Masked. a Constancy. 
 
 • Without. « ForcG up l\v the roots. ' Divided. 
 
 • Absolute. ' In modern language, (at«s us off. 
 •Supreme. •Stage. > Beyond the truth. 
 
 Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuIT, 
 The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, 
 From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; 
 Cries — Excellent! ^iis Agamemnon just. — 
 Now play me Nestor ; — hem, and stroke thy hearily 
 As he, being drest to some oration. 
 That's done; — as near as the extremest ends 
 Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and dis wile: 
 Yet good Achilles still cries, Excellent .' 
 'Tis Nestor rz^A// Now ptai/ him ?ne, Patroclus, 
 Arming to answer in a night alarm. 
 And then, forsooth, the laint defects of age 
 Must be the scene of mirth ; lo cough and spit. 
 And with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, 
 Shake in and out the rivet: — and at this sport, 
 Sir Valor dies; cries. Of — eooi/g-^, Patroclus ; — 
 Or give me ?-ihs of steel ! I shall split ail 
 In pleasure nf my spleen. And in this fashion, 
 All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 
 Severais and generals of grace exact. 
 Achievements, plots, orders, preventions. 
 Excitements to the lield, or speech for truce, 
 Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves 
 As stutffor these two to make paradoxes. 
 
 Nest. And in the imitation of thesn twain, 
 (Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns 
 vVith an imperial voice.) many are infect. 
 Ajax is grown self-will'd; and bears hi.* head 
 In such a rein, in full as proud a placo 
 As broad Achilles : keeps liis tent like him ; 
 Makes liictious feasts ; rails on our state of war. 
 Bold as an oracle : and sets Thersites 
 (A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint) 
 To match us in comparisons with dirt ; 
 To weaken and discredit our exposure. 
 How rank soever rounded in with danger. 
 
 Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice, 
 Count wisdom as no member of the war; 
 Forestall prescience, and esteem no act 
 But that of hand : the still and mental parts, — 
 That do contrive how many hands shall strike, 
 When fitnesscalls them on; and know, by measure 
 Of their observant toil, the enemies' weiglit, — 
 Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: 
 They call this — bed-work, majipery, closet-war: 
 So that the ram, tliat batters down the wall, 
 For the great swing and rudeness of his poise. 
 They place belbre his iiand that made the engine 
 Or those, that with the liiicness of their souls 
 By reason guide his execution. 
 
 Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse 
 Makes many Thetis' sons. [Trumpet sounded, 
 
 Aganu What trumpet .' look, Menelaus, 
 
 Enter JEse.vs. 
 
 Me7i. From Troy- 
 
 Agam. What would you 'fore our tent ? 
 
 JEne. Is this 
 
 Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray** 
 
 Agam. Even this. 
 
 JEne. May one that is a herald, and a prince. 
 Do a fair message to his kingly ears ? 
 
 Agam. With surety stronger than Achilles' arm 
 'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice 
 Call Agamemnon head and general. 
 
 yEne. Fair leave and larii;e security. How may 
 A stranger to those most imperial looks 
 Know them from eyes of other mortals 1 
 
 Agam. Howl 
 
 jEne. Ay: 
 I ask that I might waken reverence. 
 And bid the cheek he ready with a blush 
 Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
 Tlie youthful Phcebus : 
 Which is that god in ot^ice, guiding men ? 
 Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon 1 
 
 Agam. This Trojan scorns us; or the men of 
 Troy 
 Are ceremonious courtiers. 
 
 jEne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, 
 As bending angels; that's their lame in peace : 
 But when they would seem soldiers, they have 
 
 galls. 
 Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's 
 
 accora. 
 Nothing so full of heart. But peace, .^neas, 
 Peace, Trojan ; lay thy linger on thy lips ! 
 The worthiness of praise disdains his worth. 
 If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth 
 But what the repining enemy commends, 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 507 
 
 That breath fame follows; that praise, sole purcj 
 transcends. 
 A^am. Sir,youofTroy.callyoa yourself ^neas1 
 ^ne. Ay, Greek, that is my name. 
 Again. Wliat's your alliiir, I pray you 1 
 
 JS/ie. Sir, pardon ; 'tis ibr Agamemnon's ears. 
 Again. He hears nought privately, that comes 
 
 from Troy. 
 j^ne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him : 
 I bring a trumpet to awake his ear: 
 To set hisscn^e on the attentive bent, 
 And tlien to speak. 
 
 Agani. Speak frankly, as the wind ; 
 
 It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour: 
 That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake, 
 He leliri thee so himself. 
 
 ACne Trumpet, blow loud. 
 
 Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; — 
 And every Greek of mottle, let liim know. 
 What Troy means lairly, shall be spoke aloud. 
 
 [Trumpet soutids. 
 We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy 
 A prince called Hector, (Priam is his father,) 
 Who HI this dull and long-continued truce 
 Is rusty grown : he bade ine take a trumpet, 
 And to tills purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords! 
 If there be one among the fair'st of Greece, 
 That holds his honor higher than his ease ; 
 Tliat seeks his praise more than he fears his peril ; 
 Tliat knows his valor, and knows not his fear ; 
 That loves his mistress more than in contession, 
 (With truant vows to lier own lips lie loves,) 
 And dare avow her beauty and her worth. 
 In other arms than hers,— to him this challenge. 
 Hector, in view of Trojans and of (ireeks, 
 Sliall make it good, or do his best to do it. 
 He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer. 
 Than ever Greek did coniiiass in liis arms; 
 And will to-morrow with his trumpet call. 
 Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy, 
 To rouse a Grecian that is true in love: 
 If any come, Hector sJiall lionor him ; 
 If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires. 
 The Grecian dames are sun-burn'd,and not worth 
 The splinter of a lance. Even so much. 
 
 Again. This shall be told our lovers, lord jEneas: 
 If none of them have soul in such a kind. 
 We ietX them all at home : But we are soldiers ; 
 And may that soUlier a mere recreant prove. 
 That means not, hath not, or is not in love ! 
 If then one is, or hath, or means to be. 
 That one me<-ts Hector ; if none else, I am he. 
 
 Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man 
 When Hector's grandsire suck'd : he is old now; 
 But, if there be not in our Grecian host 
 One noble man, that hath one spark of fire 
 To answer for his love, tell him from me, — 
 I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver. 
 And in my vantbrace- put this withered brawn; 
 And, meeting him, will tell him. That my lady 
 Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste 
 As may be in tlie world : His youth in Hood, 
 I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood, 
 j3^ne. Now heaven forbid suchsearcity of youth! 
 Ulyss. Amen. 
 
 Agam Fair lord JEneas, let me touch your hand : 
 To your pavilion shall I lead you, sir. 
 Achdles shall have word of this intent; 
 So shall eacli lord of Greece, from tent to tent : 
 Yourself sliall feast with us betbre you go. 
 And tind the welcome of a noble toe. 
 
 [Exeunt alt but Ulysses and Nestor. 
 
 Ulyss. Nestor, 
 
 Nest. What says Ulysses 
 
 Ulyss. I have a young conception in my brain, 
 Be you my time to bring it to some shape. 
 Nest. What is 't1 
 Ulyss. This 'tis: 
 Blunt wedges rive hard knots : The seeded pride 
 That liatti to this maturity blown up 
 In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd. 
 Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, 
 To overbulk us all. 
 
 a An armor for the arm- 
 
 Nest. Well, and how 1 
 
 Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hector 
 sends, 
 However it is spread in general name. 
 Relates in purpose only to Achilles. 
 Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as sub- 
 stance. 
 Whose grossness little characters sum up : 
 And, in the publication, make no strain, 
 But that Achilles, were his brain as barren 
 As banks of Lybia, — though, Apollo knows, 
 'Tis dry enougJi, — will with great speed of judg 
 
 ments. 
 Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose 
 Pointing on him. 
 
 Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think youT 
 
 Nest. Yes, 
 
 It is most meet : Whom may you else oppose, 
 That can from Hector bring those honors oft. 
 If not Achilles ! Thougli't be a sportful combat, 
 Yet m the trial much opinion dwells; 
 For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute 
 With their tin'st palate : And trust to me, Ulysses 
 Our imputalion shall be oddly pois'd 
 In this wild action : for tJie success. 
 Although particular, shall give a scantling^ 
 Of good or bad unto the general ; 
 And in such indexes, although small pricks^ 
 To their subsequent volumes, there is seen 
 The baby figure of the giant mass 
 Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd. 
 He, that meets Hector, issues from our choice : 
 And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, 
 Makes merit her election; and doth boil. 
 As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd 
 Out of her virtues ; Who miscarrying, 
 What heart receives from hence a conquering part, 
 To steel a strong opinion to themselves ] 
 Which entertam'd. limbs are his instruments. 
 In no less working, than are swords and bows 
 Directive by the limbs. 
 
 Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech ;— 
 Therelbre 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. 
 Let us, like merchants, show our louiest wares, 
 And think, perchance, they'll sell ; if not, 
 The lustre of the better shall exceed. 
 By showing the worst first. Do not consent, 
 That ever Hector and Achilles meet; 
 For both our honor and our shame, in this, 
 Are dogg'd with two strange followers, 
 
 Nest. 1 see them not with my old eyes; what are 
 they I 
 
 Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from 
 Hector, 
 Were he not proud, we all should share with him: 
 But he already is to insolent ; 
 And we were better parch in Afric sun. 
 Than in the jiride and salt scorn of his eyes. 
 Should he 'scape Hector fair: If he were foil'd, 
 Why, then we did our main opinion^ crush 
 In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery; 
 And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw 
 The sort^^ to hgiit with Hector: Among ourselves, 
 Give him allowance for the better man. 
 For that will physic the great Myrmidon, 
 Who broils in loud applause ; and make him fall 
 His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends. 
 If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, 
 We'll dress him up in voices: If he fail, 
 Yet go we under our opinion" still. 
 That we have l)etter men. But, hit or miss, 
 Our project's life this shape of sense assumes, — 
 Ajax, employ'd, jilucks down Achilles' plumes. 
 
 Nest. Ulysses, 
 Now I bet;in to relish thy advice ; 
 And I will give a taste oVit forthwith 
 To Agamemnon : go we to him straight. 
 Two curs sliall tante each other; Pride alone 
 Must tarre^ the mastills on, as 'twere their lione. 
 
 [Ej:eu7it, 
 
 > Size measure. 
 
 * Small priiots compared with the volumes. 
 
 B Kstioiati'iu of character a Lot. 
 
 « Character. 9 Provoke. 
 
508 
 
 TROILUS AND CKESSIDA. 
 
 Act II 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE 1.— Another Fart of the Grecian Camp. 
 E7ifer Ajax ami Tiiersites. 
 
 Ajax. Thersites, 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon— how if he had boils 1 full, 
 all over, generally 1 
 
 Ajax. Thersites, 
 
 7 her. And these boils did run? — Say so, — did 
 not the general run then ] were not that a botchy 
 sore ! . 
 
 Ajax. Dog, 
 
 Tkfr, Then would come some matter from him; 
 I see none now. 
 
 Ajax. Tliou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not 
 hear? Feel then. [S/rikes him. 
 
 Thcr, The phiguc of Greece upon thee, thou 
 mongrel beel-witted lord ! 
 
 Ajax. Speak then, thou unsalted leaven, speak: 
 I wilt beat thee into handsomeness. 
 
 Thcr. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holi- 
 ness: but, I think, thy tio'rse will sooner con an 
 oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. — 
 Thou canst strike, canst thou ] a red murrain o' thy 
 jade's tricks ! 
 
 Jjax. Toads-stool, learn me the proclamation. 
 
 Thcr. Dost thou think, I have no sense, thou 
 strikest me thus 1 
 
 Ajax. The proclamation, — 
 
 Thcr. Tliou art proclaimed a fool, I think. 
 
 Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my lingers itch. 
 
 'Thcr. 1 would thou didst itch from head to foot, 
 and 1 Iiad thf scratching of Uiee ; I would make 
 thee Oil' loatlisiHuest scab in Greece. When tliou 
 art tbrlh in the incursions, thou striiiest as slow as 
 another. 
 
 Ajax. I say, the proclamation, ■ 
 
 Ther. Thou grumblcst and railest every hour on 
 Achilles; and thou art as full at envy at his great- 
 ness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that 
 thou barkest at Jiiin. 
 
 Ajax. Mistress Thersites ! 
 
 2'her. Thou shouldest strike him. 
 
 Ajax. Cobloal ! 
 
 7'her. He would pun^ thee into shivers witli his 
 hst, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. 
 
 Ajax. You whoreson cur. [Beating him. 
 
 Ther. Do, do. 
 
 Ajax. Thou stool for a wifch I 
 
 2'Acr. Ay, do, do: thou sodden-witted lord ! thou 
 hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an 
 assinego' may tutor thee: Thou scurvy valiant ass! 
 tliou art here put to thrash Trojans; and thou art 
 hiiught and sold among those of any wit, like a 
 Barbarian slave. If tliou use to beat me, 1 will 
 begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, 
 thou tiling' of no bowels, thou ! 
 
 AJcLX. You dog ! 
 
 Thcr. You scurvy lord ! 
 
 Ajax. You cur. [Beating him. 
 
 Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness: do, camel, 
 do, do. 
 
 Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 
 
 Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you 
 thusi 
 How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man? 
 
 Ther. You see him there, do you I 
 
 Achil. Ay; what's tlie matter .' 
 
 Ther. Nay, Inok upon him. 
 
 Achil. So I do; What's the matter? 
 
 Thcr. Nay, but regard him well. 
 
 Achil. Well, why 1 do so. 
 
 Ther. But yet you look not well upon him: for 
 whosoever you take hiin to be, he is Ajax. 
 
 Achil. I know that, tool. 
 
 Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. 
 
 Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 
 
 Thcr. ho, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he 
 utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have 
 bobbed his hrain, more Ihan he has brat my bones: 
 I will buy nine sparrows Ibr a penny, and his pia 
 mater- is not worth the ninth part ol a sparrow. — 
 
 • Pound. * Ass, a rant term for .i foclish fellow. 
 
 » The mombraoe that protracts the brain. 
 
 ! This lord, Achilles, Ajax, — who wears his wit in 
 Ins belly, and his guts in his head, — I'll tell you 
 what I say of him. 
 
 AchiL What? 
 
 Ther. I say this, Ajax 
 
 Achil. Nay, good Ajax. 
 
 [Ajax offers to s/rike him, Achilles 
 interposes. 
 
 Thcr. Has not so much wit — 
 
 Achil. Nay, I must hold you. 
 
 Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, 
 for whom he comes to hght. 
 
 Achil. Peace, fool ! 
 
 'Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the 
 fool will not: he there; that he; look you there. 
 
 Ajax. thou damned cur, 1 shall 
 
 Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's? 
 
 'Ther. No, I warrant you; for a Iboi's will shame 
 it. 
 
 Pa/r. Good words, Thersites. 
 
 Achil. What's the quarrel ? 
 
 Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go, learn me the tenor 
 ot the proclamation, and he rails upon me. 
 
 Ther. 1 serve thee not. 
 
 Ajax. Well, go to, go to. 
 
 'I'her. 1 serve Jiere voluntary. 
 
 Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not 
 viilunlary ; no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was 
 here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. 
 
 Ther. Even so? — a great deal of your wit too 
 lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector 
 shall have a great catch, it he knock out either of 
 your brains; V were as good crack a fusty nut with 
 no kernel. 
 
 Achil. What, witli me too, Thersites? 
 
 'Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, whose 
 wit was mouldy, ere your grandsires had nails on 
 their toes, — yoke you like draught oxen, and make 
 you plough up the wars. 
 [ Achil. What, what? 
 
 'Ther. Yes, good sooth ; to, Achilles ! to, Ajax ! 
 to ! 
 
 Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue. 
 
 'Ther. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as 
 tliou afterwards. 
 
 Pair. No more words, Thersites; peace. 
 
 'Ther. 1 wilf hold my peace when Achilles* brach^ 
 bids me, shall 1 ? 
 
 Achil. There's for you, Patroclus, 
 
 'Ther. \ will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere 
 I come any more to your tents; I will keep where 
 there is wit stirring, and leave the taction of inols. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pair. A good riddance. 
 
 Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all 
 our host: 
 That Hector, by the first hour of the sun. 
 Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy» 
 To-morrow morning call some knight to arms, 
 That hath a stomach ; and such a one, that dare 
 Maintain — 1 know not what; 'tis trash: Farewell. 
 
 Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him ? 
 
 Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery; otherwise, 
 He knew his man. 
 
 Ajax. O, meaning you : — I'll go learn more of it. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 SCENE II.— Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace, 
 Enter Puiam, Hector, Troilus, Pauis, and Hk- 
 
 LENUS. 
 
 Pri. AAer so many hours, lives, speeches, spent, 
 Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks : 
 Deliver Helen, and all damage else— 
 As honor, loss of time, travel, expense^ 
 IVoundJs, friends, and what el^e dear that is con- 
 sumed 
 In hot digc.stiim of Ihi^'i ctirnturant war— 
 Shall be struck off: — Hcctnr. what say you to't? 
 llccf. Though no man lesser tears llio Greeks 
 than 1, 
 As far as toucheth my particular, } et. 
 Dread Priam, 
 
 There is no lady of more sorter bowels, 
 » Bitch. houuJ. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 509 
 
 More spungy to suck in the sense of foar, 
 
 More ready to cry out — IVhn knows what follows? 
 
 Th:in Hector is: the wound of peace is surety, 
 
 Surety t-ecure; but modest doubt is call'd 
 
 The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
 
 To tiic bottom of the worst. Let Helen go: 
 
 Since the first sword was drawn abouttiiis question. 
 
 Every tithe soul, 'mon;;st many thousand dismes,^ 
 
 }Iath been as dear as Helen ; I mean of ours: 
 
 If \^e have lo~;t so many tenths ofoiirs. 
 
 To triiard a thing not ours; not worth to us. 
 
 Had it our name, the value of one ten ; 
 
 What merit's in that reason, which denies 
 
 Till' yielding of her upl 
 
 3Vo. Fye, fye, my brother! 
 
 Weigh you the worth and honor of a king, 
 So great as our dread father, in a scale 
 Of common ounces] will you with counters sum 
 The past-proportion of his infinite .' 
 And buclJf-in a waist most lathomless, 
 With '^panis and mches so diminutive 
 As tears and reasons ! fye, for godly shame ! 
 Jiel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at 
 reasons. 
 You are so empty of them. Should not our father 
 liear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, 
 Because your speech hatii none, that tells linn so? 
 Tro. Von are lor dreams and slumbers, brother 
 priest, 
 You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your 
 
 reasons ; 
 You know, an enemy intends you harm; 
 You know, a sword employed is perilous, 
 And reason flics the object of all harm: 
 Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds 
 A Grecian and his sword, if he do set 
 The very wings of Reason to his heels; 
 And liy like chidden Mercury from Jove, 
 (Jr like a star disorh'd ?— Nay, if we talk of reason. 
 Let's shut our gates and sleep: Manhood and 
 
 lion or 
 Should have hare hearts, would they but Hit their 
 
 thougtits ^ 
 With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect^ 
 Make livers pale, and lustdiood deject. 
 Hed. Brother, she is not worth what she doth 
 cost 
 The holding. 
 Tni. W^hat is aught, but as 'tis valued ? 
 
 li-ct. Bui value dwells not in particular will ; 
 It holds tiis estimate and dignity 
 As well wherein 'tis precious of itself 
 As Ml the prizer : 'tis mad idolatry, 
 To ni:ike tiie service greater than the god, 
 And tlie will dotes, lliat is attributive 
 To wh;it inli-cliously itself affects. 
 Without some image of the alFected merit. 
 
 Trit. I take to-day a wife, and my election 
 Is led on in the conduct of my will: 
 My .vill enkindled by mine eyes and ears, 
 Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores 
 Of V. ill and judgment: How may I avoid. 
 Although my wiK distaste what it elected, 
 Ttie wile I chose] there can be no evasion 
 To blench^ from this, and to stand firm by honor: 
 We turn not back the silks upon the merchant. 
 When we have soil'd them ; nor the remainder 
 
 viands 
 We do not throw in unrespective sieve, 
 Because we now are full. It was thought meet, 
 Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks : 
 Your breath with full consent bellied his sails; 
 The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, 
 And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd; 
 And, lor an old aunt,"? whom the Greeks held 
 
 captive. 
 He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and 
 
 freshness 
 Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. 
 Whv keep we her] the (Jrecians keep our aunt : 
 Is sill', worth keeping ] why, she is a pearl, 
 Wli'i^e price hath launch'd above a thousand sliips, 
 And turn'd crown'd king to merchants. 
 If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went, 
 (As you must needs, for you all cry'd — Go, ^o,) 
 If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize, 
 (As you must needs, for you all clapp'dyour hands, 
 And cry" (\— Inestimable.') wJiy do you now 
 * Tenths. i Caution. o Shrink, or fly off. 
 
 1 Priam s sister, Ilesione, 
 
 The issue of your proper wisdoms rate ; 
 And do a deed that fortune never did. 
 Beggar the estimation wliich you priz'd 
 Richer than sea or land ] O thell most base ; 
 That we have stolen what we do tear to keep ! 
 But, thieves unworthy of a thing so stolen, 
 That in tlieir country did tJiem that disgrace. 
 We fear to warrant in our native place ! 
 C«.v. {IViihin.] Cry, Trojans, cry ! 
 Pri. What noise \ what shriek is this "^ 
 
 Tro. 'Tis our mad sister. I do know lier voice. 
 Cas. [IViihin.] Cry, Trojan^ ! 
 hcct. It is Cassandra. 
 
 Enter Cassandra, raving. 
 Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry ! lend me ten thousand 
 eyes. 
 And I will fill them with prophetic tears. 
 Hcct. Peace, sister, peace, 
 Cay. Virgins and boys, mid-age, and wrinkled 
 elders. 
 Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, 
 Add to my clamors ! let us pray betimes 
 A moiety of that mass of moan to come.- 
 Crj-, Trojans, cry ! practise your eyes with tears ! 
 Troy must not be, nor goodly llion stand ; 
 Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all. 
 Cry, Trojans, cry ! a Helen and a woe : 
 Cry. cry ! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit, 
 hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high 
 strains 
 Of divination in our sister work 
 Some touches of remorse] or is your blood 
 So madly hot, that no discourse of reason, 
 Nor fear of had success in a bad cause. 
 Can qualify the same ] 
 
 Tro.' Why, brother Hector, 
 
 We may not think the justness of each act 
 Such and no other than event doth form it ; 
 Nor once deject the courage of our minds 
 Because Cassandra's mad; her brain-sick raptures 
 Cannot distaste- the goodiiC'-s of a quarrel. 
 Which hath our several lionors all engaged 
 To make it gracious. For my private part, 
 I am no more touched than all Priam's sons: 
 And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us 
 Such things as might ollend the weakest spleen 
 To fight tor and maintain ! 
 
 Par. Else might the world convince^ of levity 
 As well my undertakings as your counsels; 
 But I attest the gods, your full consent 
 Gave wings to my propension, and cut off 
 Ail fears attending on so dire a project. 
 For what, alas, can these my single arms? 
 What propugnationi is in one man's valor 
 That stand the push and enmity of those 
 This quarrel would excite ! Vet. I protest, 
 Were I alone to pass the dilliculties, 
 And had as ample power as \ have wiB. 
 Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, 
 Nor faint in the pursuit. 
 
 Pri. Paris, you speak 
 
 Like one besotted on your sweet delights: 
 Vou have the honey still, but these the gall ; 
 So to he valiant, is no praise at all. 
 
 Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself 
 The pleasures such a beauty brin<cs with it; 
 But I would have the soil ot' her lair rape 
 Wiped oti; in honorable keeping her. 
 What treason were it to the ransack'd queen. 
 Disgrace to your great wort lis. and shame to me, 
 Now to deliver her possession up. 
 On terms of base compulsion ] Can it be, 
 That so degenerate a strain as this. 
 Should once set footing in your generous bosoms! 
 There's not the meanest spirit on our ])arty. 
 Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw, 
 Wlien Helen is defended ; nor none so noble. 
 Whose life were ill bcstow'd. or death untamed. 
 Where Helen is the subject: then, I say, 
 Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well. 
 The world's large spaces cannot parallel. 
 Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both said 
 well : 
 And on the cause and question now in hand 
 Have gloz'd.^i^ — but superficially; not much 
 Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought 
 Unfit to' hear moral philosophy : 
 8 C-'rrupt, change to a worse stato. • Convict. 
 
 I Defence. ^ Commeuted. 
 
510 
 
 TEOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 The reasons, you allege, do more conduce 
 To tlip hot passion of distemper'd blood, 
 Tliati to make up a tree determination 
 *Tvvixt risht and wrong; For pleasure, and re- 
 venge, 
 Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
 Of any true decision. Nature craves, 
 All dues be rendei'd to their owners; Now 
 What nearer debt in all humanity. 
 Than wife is to the liusband f if this law 
 Of nature be corrupted through allection ; 
 And that great minds, of-i partial indulfi:ence 
 To their benumbed wilts, resist the same ; 
 Tliere is a law in each well-order'd nation, 
 To curb those raging appetites that are 
 Most disobedient and refractory. 
 If Helen then be wite to Sparta's king, — 
 As it is known she is.— these moral laws 
 Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud 
 To have her back return a: Thus to persist 
 In duuig wrong, extenuates not wrong, 
 But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion 
 Is this, in Vi*ay of truth : yet ne'ertheless, 
 ]\Iy sprilety brethren. I propend' to you 
 In resolution to keep Helen still ; 
 For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence 
 Upon our joint and several dignities. 
 
 Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our 
 design : 
 Were it not glory that we more affected, 
 Than the perlormanee of our heaving spleens, 
 I woukl not wisli a drop of Trojan blooM 
 *Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, 
 She IS a tlieme of honor and renown ; 
 A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds ; 
 Whose present courage may beat down our foes, 
 And fame, in time to come, canonize us : 
 For. I presume, brave Hector would not lose 
 So rich advantage of a promis'd glory, 
 As smites upon the forehead of this action, 
 For the wide world's revenue. 
 
 Htci. I am yours, 
 
 You valiant offspring of great Priamus. — 
 1 have a roisting^ challenge sent amongst 
 The dull and f.ictious nobles of the Greeks, 
 Will sliike ani;i/.cmenl to their drowsy spirits: 
 I was advert is'd, their great general siVpt, 
 Whilst emulatu)n" in the army crtpt; 
 This, 1 presume, will wake him. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCEXK III.— TAe Grecian Camp. 
 jVchilles' Tent. 
 
 Before 
 
 Enter Thersites. 
 
 Ther- How, now, Thersitesf what, lost in the 
 labyrinth of thy fury f Shall the elephant Ajax 
 carry it tlius ! he beats me, and I rail at him : O 
 worthy satisfaction! 'would it were otherwise; that 
 I could beathim,whilsthc railed at me: 'Sfoot, I'll 
 learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some 
 issueofmy spiteful execrations. Then there's Achil- 
 les, — a rare engineer. IfTroy he not taken, till these 
 two undermine it. tlie walls will stand till they fall 
 of tliemselves. O thou great thunder-darter of 
 Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of 
 gods; and, Mercury, lose all 'the serpentine crall 
 of thy Cu'litceus;'^ if ye tiike not that little little 
 less-than-little wit from them that they have I which 
 short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant 
 scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a tly 
 from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, 
 and cutting the web. Al\er this, the vengeance on 
 the whole camp! or, rather, the hone-ache! for that, 
 mothiiiks, is the curse dependent on those that war 
 tor a placket. I have said my prayers ; and devil, 
 envy, say Amen. — What, ho ! my lord Achilles ! 
 Enter Patroclus. 
 
 Pa/r Who's there? Thersites? Good Thersites, 
 come in iiiid rail. 
 
 T/i' r. II 1 cniild have remembered a gilt coun- 
 terli'il. iliou w(uil(lst not have slipped out of my 
 contemplation: hut it is no matter ; Thyself upon 
 thyself! The common curse ol' mankind, folly and 
 Ignorance, be thine in great revenue ! heaven bless 
 thee frnin a tutiu-. and discipline come not near 
 thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy 
 death ! then if she, that lays thoe out, says— thou 
 
 3 Thiou;.'h. * liicliuo. « Blustoring. e Envy. 
 ■> The w;iud of Mercury, which is wreuthotl with ser- 
 ponh). 
 
 art a fair corse, I'M he sworn and sworn upon't.she 
 never shrouded any but lazars.^ Amen. — Where's 
 Achilles'? 
 
 Pafr. What, art thou devout 1 wast tliou in 
 prayer ] 
 
 l^her. Ay; The heavens hear me.' 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 
 Achil. Who'? there? 
 
 Pair. Thersites, my lord. 
 
 Achil, Where, where? — Art thou come? Why. 
 my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not scrveu 
 thyself in to my table so many meals! Come; 
 what's Agamemnon ? 
 
 Ther. Thy commander, Achilles;— Then tell 
 me, Patroclus, what's Achilles ? 
 
 Pair. Thy lord, Thersites ; Then tell me, I pray 
 thee, what's thyself! 
 
 Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; Then tell me, 
 Patroclus. what art thou ? 
 
 Patr. Thou mayst tell, that knowest. 
 
 Achil. O, tell, tell. 
 
 Ther. Til decline the whole question. Agamem 
 non commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I 
 am Patroclus' knower; and Patroclus is a fool. 
 
 Patr. You rascal ! 
 
 Ther. Peace, fool ; I have not done. 
 
 Acfiil. He is a privileged man. — Proceed, Ther- 
 sites. 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a fool, 
 Thersites is a fool ; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is 
 a foo!. 
 
 Achil. Derive this; come. 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to ofTer to command 
 Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of 
 Agamemnon; Thersites is a tool to serve such a 
 fool ; and Patroclus is a fool positive, 
 
 Patr. Why am I a fool ? 
 
 Ther. Make that demand of the prover. — It sut- 
 fices me, thou art. Look you, who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Agamem.von, Ulvssks, Nestor, Diomedes, 
 a7id Ajax. 
 
 Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody : — 
 Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit. 
 
 Ther. Here is such patchery. such juggling, and 
 such knavery ! all the argument is, a cuckold, and 
 a whore; A good quarrel, to draw emulouss fac- 
 tions, and bleed to death upon. Now the dry ser- 
 pigo^ on the subject 1 and war, and lechery, con- 
 found all ! [Exit, 
 
 Agant. Where is Achilles ? 
 
 Pair. Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord. 
 
 Agani. Let it ho known to him that we are here; 
 He shent- our messengers ; and we lay by 
 Our appertainments3 visiting of Iiim : 
 Let him be told so; lest, pereluincc, he think 
 We dare not move the question of our place, 
 Or know not what we are. 
 
 Pair. I shall say so to him. [Exit, 
 
 Uli/ss. We saw him at the opening of his tent; 
 He is not sick. 
 
 Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart : you 
 may call it melancholy, if you will favor the man; 
 hut, by my head, 'tis pride: But why, why] let 
 lum show us a cause. — A word, my lord. 
 
 [Takes Agamemnox aside. 
 
 Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? 
 
 Uti/ss. Aciiilles hath inveigled his fool from him. 
 
 Nest. Who? Thersites? 
 
 Ulyss. He. 
 
 Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost 
 his argument.' 
 
 Vli/ss. No; yon see, he is his argument, that has 
 his argument; Achilles. 
 
 Ncsr. All the better; their fraction is more our 
 wish, than their faction ; But it was a strong com- 
 posure, a fool could disunite. 
 
 Uti/ss. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly 
 may'casily untie. Here comes Patroclus. 
 
 Re-enter Patroclus. 
 
 Nest. No Achilles with him. 
 
 UUiss. The elephant Jiath joints, but none for 
 courlesy: his legs are legs lor necessity, not for 
 Ilex u re. 
 
 • Leprous persons. 
 5 Ki'buked, rated. 
 
 * Subject. 
 
 s Knvious. * Ti'ltcr. scab, 
 
 3 Appeudage of rank Or dignity. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 511 
 
 Patr. Achilles bids me say— he is much sorry, 
 \( any thing more than your sport and pleasure 
 Did move your greatness, and this noble state, 
 To call upon him ; he hopes, it is no other. 
 But. lor your health and your digestion's sake, 
 An aller-dinner's breath.^ 
 
 A^am. Hear you, Patroclus; — 
 
 We'iiie too well acquainted wilh these answers : 
 But his evasion, wing'd thus switl with scorn, 
 Cannot outtly our apprehensions. 
 Much altnbiite he iiath ; and much the reason 
 Why we ascribe it to him: yet all his virtues,— 
 Not virtuously on his own part beheld,^ 
 Dm. ill our eyes, begin to lo^e their gloss; 
 Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish. 
 Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him. 
 We come to speak with him: And you shall not 
 
 sin, 
 a you do say — we think him over-proud, 
 And under-honest; in self-assumption greater, 
 TJiaa ill the note of judgment; and worthier than 
 
 himself 
 Here tend^ the savage strangeness he puts on ; 
 Disguise the holy strength of their command, 
 And underwrite' in an observing kind 
 His humorous predominance; yea, watch 
 His pettish lunes.s his ebbs, his flows, as if 
 The passage and whole carriage of this action 
 Kode on his tide, (io, tell liim this; and add, 
 Tliat. if he overbold his price so much, 
 We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine 
 Not portable, lie under this report — 
 Bring action hither, this cannot go to war: 
 A stirring dwarf we do allowance^ give 
 Before a sleeping giant : — Teil him so. 
 
 Patr. 1 shall ; and bring his answer presently. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Agam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, 
 We come to speak with him. — Ulysses, enter. 
 
 [Exit Ulysses. 
 
 Ajax. What is he more than another \ 
 
 Af^am. No more than what he thinks he is, 
 
 Ajax. Is he so much] Do you not tiiink, he 
 thinks himself a better man tlian I am ! 
 
 A^aiii. No question. 
 
 Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say 
 — he IS ! 
 
 Again. No, noble Ajax: you are as strong, as 
 valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, 
 and altogether more tractable. 
 
 Ajax. Wliy should a man be proud 1 How doth 
 pride grow ! 1 know not what pride is. 
 
 Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your 
 virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats up him- 
 self: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his 
 own clironicle; and whatever praises itself but in 
 the deed, devours the deed in the praise. 
 
 Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as 1 hate the en- 
 gendering of toads. 
 
 Ne6t. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange? 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Re-enter Ulysses. 
 
 Uli/ss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. 
 
 Agam. What's his excuse ? 
 
 Uit/ss. lie doth rely on none ; 
 
 But carries on the stream of his dispose, 
 Without observance or respect of any, 
 In will peculiar and in sell-admission. 
 
 Agam. Why will he not. upon our fair request, 
 Untent his person, and share tiie air with us ! 
 
 Ult/ss. Things small as nothing, for request's 
 sake only. 
 He makes important: Possessed he is with great- 
 ness; 
 And speaks not to himself, but with a pride 
 Tliat quarrels at sell-breath : imagin'd worth 
 Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse, 
 ThiiJ 'twixt Jiis mental and liis active parts, 
 Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, 
 And batiers down liimself : What should I say 1 
 He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it 
 Cry — -V/> recovery. 
 
 Agam. Let Ajax go to him. — 
 
 Dear lord, go you and greet liiin in his tent; 
 *Tis said, he holds you well ; and will be led, 
 At your request, a little from himself. 
 
 » Exen-ise. • Attend. ' Subscribe, obey. 
 
 • Fits of luuacy. • Approbation. 
 
 Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so ! 
 
 We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
 When they go from Achilles: Shall the proud 
 
 lord. 
 That bastes his arrogance vs-ith his own seam ;' 
 And never sutJers matter ol'the world 
 Kntcr his thoughts, — save such as do revolve 
 And ruminate himself, — shall he be worshlppM 
 Of tlmt we hold an idol more than he? 
 No, this thrice wortliy and right valiant lord 
 Must not so stale his'palm. nobly <icquir'd.* 
 Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, 
 As amply titled as Achilles is, 
 By going to Achilles; 
 That were to eniard his fat-already pride ; 
 And add more coals to Cancer, when he burns 
 W'lth entertaining great Hyperion. 
 This lord go to him ! Jupiter, forbid . 
 And say in thunder — Ackitles go to him. 
 
 Nest. 0, this is well ; he rubs the vein of him. 
 
 [Asiffe. 
 
 Dio. And how his silence drinks up tins ap- 
 plause ! [A-s-ide. 
 
 Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd hst I'll 
 pash- him 
 Over the face. 
 
 Agam. O. no, you shall not go. 
 
 Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze^ his 
 pride : 
 Let me go to him. 
 
 Uli/ss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our 
 quarrel. 
 
 Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow. 
 
 Ae.sf. How he describes 
 
 Himself! [Aside, 
 
 Ajax. Can he not be sociable 1 
 
 hbjss. The raven 
 
 Chides blackness. [Afride. 
 
 AJa.c., J will let his humors blood. 
 
 Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the 
 patient. [Aside. 
 
 Ajax. An all men 
 Were o'my mind, 
 
 Ulyss. Wit would be out of fiishion. 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Ajax. He should not bear it so; 
 He should eat swords first : Shall pride carry it ? 
 
 Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Aside, 
 
 Ulyss. He'd have ten shares, 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple; — 
 
 Nest. He's not yet thorough warm : force' him 
 with praises: 
 Pour in. pour in ; his ambition is dry. [Aside. 
 
 Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dis- 
 like. [To Agamemnon. 
 
 Nest. O noble general, do not do so. 
 
 Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. 
 
 Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him 
 harm. 
 Here is a man — But 'tis before his face ; 
 I will be silent. 
 
 Nest. Wherefore should you so 1 
 
 He is not emulous,^ as Achilles is. 
 
 Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant, 
 
 Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter^ thus 
 with us ! 
 I would, he were a Trojan ! 
 
 Nest. What a vice 
 
 Were it in Ajax now — - 
 
 Ulyss. Tf he were proud ■* 
 
 Dio. Or covetous of praise ? 
 
 Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne 1 
 
 Dio. Or strange, or self-aflfected 1 
 
 Ulyss. Thank tlie heavens, lord, thou art of sweet 
 composure ; 
 Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck : 
 Famed by thy tutor, and Ihy parts of nature 
 Thrice-famed, beyond all erudition: 
 But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight, 
 Let Mars divide eternity in twain. 
 And give him half: and. for thy vigor. 
 Bull-bearing Milo^his addition^ yield 
 To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom. 
 Which, like a bourn,'' a pale, a shore, confines 
 Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor,— 
 Instructed by the antiquary times, 
 
 * Fat. « Strike. a Comb or currj". « Ptuff. 
 
 • Envious. » Tritl«. "» Titles. ■ Uoundaiy. 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 512 
 
 He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ; — 
 But pardon, father Neslor, were your days 
 As green as Ajax, and your brain so tempered, 
 You should not have the eminence of him, 
 But be as Ajax. 
 
 Ajax. Shall I call you father 1 
 
 Nest. Ay, my good son. 
 
 Dio. By rul'd by him, lord Ajax. 
 
 Ukyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart 
 Achilles 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
 To call together all his state of war ; 
 Fresh kings are come lo Troy: To-morrow, 
 We must with all our main of power stand fast : 
 And here's .a lord, — come kniglits from east to 
 
 west. 
 And cull their flowers Ajax shall cope the best. 
 Again. Go we lo council. Let Acliilles sleep: 
 Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw 
 
 deep. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace. 
 Enter Pandarus and a Servant. 
 
 Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do not 
 you follow the young lord Paris? 
 
 Se?'V. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. 
 
 Pan. You do depend upon him, I mnan ? 
 
 Serv. Sir, I do depend upon that lord. 
 
 Pan. You depend upon a noble gentleman ; 
 I must needs praise him. 
 
 Serv. Tlie lord be praisM ! 
 
 Pan. You know, me do you not] 
 
 Serv. 'Faith, sir, superticially. 
 
 Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the lord 
 pandarus. 
 
 Serv, I hope I shall know j'our honor better. 
 
 Pan. I do desire it. 
 
 Serv. You arc in the state of grace. 
 
 [Music iviihin. 
 
 Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honor and lordship 
 are my titles; — What music is this? 
 
 Serv. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in 
 parts. 
 
 Pun. Know you the musicians *? 
 
 Serv. Wholly, sir. 
 
 Pan. Who piny they to*? 
 
 Serv. To the hearers, sir. 
 
 Pan. At whose pleasure, friend? 
 
 Serv. At mine, sir, and tlieirs that love music. 
 
 Pan. Command, I mean, friend ! 
 
 Serv. Who shall I command, sir! 
 
 Pan. Friend, we understand not one another; 1 
 am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At 
 wliosc request do these men play? 
 
 Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir;"Marry, sir, at the 
 re<inest of Paris my lord, who is there iu person; 
 with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of 
 beauly. love's invisible soul. 
 
 Pun. Wiio, my cousin CressidaT 
 
 Serv. No, sir, Helen; Could you not fmd out 
 that by her attributes? 
 
 Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not 
 seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris 
 from the pnnce Troilus: I will make a compli- 
 meiital assavdt upon him, for my business seeths.^ 
 
 Serv. Sodden busijiess! there's a stewed phrase, 
 indeed ! 
 
 Enter Paris and Helen, attended. 
 
 Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair 
 company! fair desires, in ail fair measure, (airly 
 guidi^ them; especially to you, fair queen I fair 
 thoughts be your fair pillow ! 
 
 lifi.en. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. 
 
 Pan. Yon speak your fair pleasure, sweetquccn. 
 — Fiiir ]>rlnce, hereis good broken music. 
 
 Par. You have broke it, cousin : and, by my 
 life, you shall make it whole again; you shall piece 
 it out with a piece of your performance: — Nell, 
 he i'i full of harmony. 
 
 Par. Truly, lady, ho. 
 
 IJrlrn. sir. 
 
 Pan. Rude, ill sooth; in good sooth, very rude. 
 
 Pan. Well said, my lord! well, you say so in 
 fits.' 
 
 Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen: — 
 My bird, will you vouchsafe me a word? 
 
 Htlen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll 
 hear you sing certainly. 
 
 Pail. Well," sweet qpocn, you arc pleasant with 
 
 6 IJuils. 
 
 ' Parts of a song 
 
 me. — But (marry) thus, my lord, — My dear lord, 
 and most esteemed fiiend, your brullier Troilus, — 
 
 Helen. My lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet lord — 
 
 Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to : — commends 
 himself most atTectionately to you. 
 
 Helen. You shall not bob us outof our melody; 
 it you do, our melancholy upon your liead ! 
 
 Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen ; that's a sweet 
 queen, i' faith. 
 
 Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad, is a sour 
 o tie nee. 
 
 Pan. Nay. tlint shall not serve your turn; that 
 sliall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such 
 wonls; no, no. — .\nd, my lord, he desires you. 
 tliat, if the king call tor him at supper, you will 
 make liis excuse. 
 
 Helen. My lord Pandarus, — 
 
 Pan. What says my sweet queen, — my very 
 very sweet queen? 
 
 Pur. What exploit's in hand ? where sups he 
 to-night? 
 
 Helen. Nay, but my lord, 
 
 Pan. What says my sweet queen ? — My cousin 
 will tail out with you. You must not know where 
 he sups. 
 
 Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. 
 
 Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are wide;- 
 corne, jour disposer is sick. 
 
 Par. Weil. I'll make excuse. 
 
 Pan. Ay, guod my lord. Why should you say 
 — Cressida ? no, your poor disposer's sick. 
 
 Par. 1 spy. 
 
 Pan. You spy ! what do you spy ?— Come, give 
 me an instrument. Now, sweetqueen. 
 
 Helen. Why. this is kindly done. 
 
 Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a thing 
 you have, swefit queen. 
 
 Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not 
 uiy lord Pans. 
 
 Pan. He ! no, she'll none of him ; they two are 
 twain. 
 
 Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make 
 them three. 
 
 Pan. Come. come, I'll hear no more of this; I'ii 
 sing you a song now. 
 
 Helen. Ay. ay, pr'ythee now By my troth, 
 sweet lord, thou liast a fine forehead. 
 
 Pan. Ay, you may, you may. 
 
 Hf'len. Let thy song be love: this love will undo 
 us all. (), Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! 
 
 Pan. Love ! ay, that it shall, i' faith. 
 
 Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but 
 love. 
 
 Pan- In good troth, it begins so: 
 
 Love, love, nothing but love, still more ! 
 
 For, uk, lnve\'i bow 
 
 Sh'int.s hack and doe: 
 
 The shiift ctnifinindSj 
 
 Kul that it iVDunds, 
 But ticklei> atill the sore. 
 
 These lovers cnj — Oh! ho! they die! 
 
 Yet that ivhich seems the wound to killf 
 Doth turn oh ! oh ! to ha ! Jul ! he ! 
 
 So dijing liwe lives still : 
 Oh ! oh ! a ■whiley hut ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 Oh! oh! groans out fur ha ! ha! ha! 
 
 Hey ho ! 
 Helen. In love, i' faitli, to the very lip of the 
 
 nose. 
 Par. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that 
 3 Wide of your mark. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 513 
 
 breeds hot blood. and hot blood begets; hot thoughts, 
 and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is 
 love. 
 
 Pun. Is this the generation of love 1 hot blood, 
 hot thoughts, and hot deeds ? — Why, they are vi- 
 pers : Is love a generation of vipers ? Sweet lord, 
 who's a-field to-day T • 
 
 Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and 
 all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain have armed 
 to-night, but niy Nell would not have it so. How 
 chance my brother Troilus went^not] 
 
 Ihkn. He hangs the lip at something; — you 
 know all. lord Pandarus, 
 
 Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. — I long to hear 
 how they sped to-day. — You'll remember your 
 brother's excuse ? 
 
 Par. To a hair. 
 
 Pan. Farewell, sweet queen. 
 
 Helen. Commend me to your niece. 
 
 Pan. I will, sweet queen. {Exit. 
 
 \A Retreat smiwled. 
 
 Par. They are come from field: let us to Priam's 
 hall. 
 To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo 
 
 you 
 To help unarm our Hector; his stubborn buckles. 
 With these your white enchanting lingers touch'd. 
 Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel. 
 Or Ibrce of Greekish sinews; you shall do more 
 Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector. 
 
 Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, 
 Paris: 
 Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty. 
 Gives us more palm in beauty than we have; 
 Yea, overshines oursclf. 
 
 Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee. 
 
 {Exeutit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Pandarus' Orcftard. 
 Enter Paxdarcs and a Servant, meeting. 
 
 Pan. How now? Where's thy master] at my 
 cousin Cressida's! 
 
 Serv. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him 
 thitlicr. 
 
 Enter Troilus. 
 
 Payi. 0. here he comes. — How now, how now? 
 
 Trn. Sirrah, walk oil'. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Pan. Have you seen my cousin? 
 
 Tro. No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door, 
 Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 
 Staying for watlage. O, be thou my Charon, 
 And give me swift transportance to those fields, 
 Where I may wallow in the lily beds 
 Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus, 
 From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, 
 And ily wilh me to Crcssid ! 
 
 Pan. Walk here i' the orchard, I'll bring her 
 straight. [Exit Paxdaiii's. 
 
 Tro. I am giddy ; expectation whirls me round. 
 The imaginary relish is so sweet 
 That it enchants my sense ; What will it be, 
 Wlien that the watery palate tastes indeed 
 Love's Ihrice-rcputed nectar? death, I fear me; 
 Swooning destruction : or some joy too line. 
 Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness, 
 For the capacity of my ruder powers: 
 I fear it much ; and I do fear besides. 
 That I shall lose distmction in in j* joys; 
 As doth a battle, when they ciiarge on heaps 
 The enemy Hying. 
 
 Re-enter Pandaeus. 
 
 Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come 
 straight: you must be witty now. Sliedoesso blush, 
 and fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed 
 with a sprite : I'll lelcli her. It is the prettiest vil- 
 lain : — slie fetches her breath as short as a new- 
 ta'en sparrow. [Exit Paxdarcs. 
 
 Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my 
 bosom : 
 My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; 
 And all my powers do their bestowing lose, 
 Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring 
 The eye of majesty. 
 
 £«Yer Pasdaih's ondCRESsiDA. 
 
 Pan. Come, come, what need you blush ? shame's 
 
 a baby. — Here she is now: swear the oaths now to 
 
 her, that you have sworn to me. — What, are you 
 
 33 
 
 t^one nj;ain ? you must be watclied ore you be made 
 tame, must youl Come your ways, come your 
 ways; an you draw backward, we'll put youi'tlie 
 fills.3 — Wby do you notspeak to her] — Come, draw 
 tbis curtain, and let's sec your picture. Alas, the 
 day, bow loath you are to offend day-hybl! an 
 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on 
 and kiss the mistress.* How now! a kiss in fee- 
 farm 7 build there, carpenter ; t!ie air is sweet.— 
 Nay. you shall f\^\n your hearts out, ere I part tou. 
 Tlie talcon as the tercel,^ lor all the ducks i the 
 river: go to, go to. 
 
 Tro. Vou have bereft, me of all words, lady. 
 
 Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but 
 she'll bereave you of the deeds loo. if she call your 
 activity in question. Vv'hat, billing again } Here's 
 — In witness w hereof the parties intcrctianseabty 
 — Come in, come in ; I'll go get a lire. 
 
 [Exit PAKDARCS. 
 
 Cres. Will you walk in, my lord ? 
 
 Tro. O Cressida, how oAcn have I wished me 
 thus? 
 
 Cres. Wished, my lord?— The gods grant !—0 
 my lord ! 
 
 Tro. What should they grant? what makes this 
 pretty abruption ] What too curious dreg espies 
 my sweet lady in tlie fountain of our love : 
 
 Cres. More dregs than water, if my fears have 
 eyes. 
 
 Tro. Fears make devils clicrubims; they never 
 see truly. 
 
 Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds 
 safer footing than blind reason stumbling without 
 tear : To fear the worst, olt cures the worst. 
 
 Tro, 0, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all 
 Cujiid's pageant there is presented no monster. 
 
 Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither ? 
 
 Tro. Nothing, but our luidcrtakings: when we 
 vow to weep seas, live in lire, eat rocks, lame tigers: 
 thinking it harder for our mistress to devi^^e im- 
 position enough, than for us to undergo any ditliculty 
 imposed. Tbis is the monstruosity in love, lady, — 
 tliat the will is intinite, and tlie execution confined: 
 that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to 
 limit. 
 
 Cres. They say, all lovers swear more perform- 
 ance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability 
 that they never perform; vowing more than the 
 perfection of ten, and discharging le.-s than the 
 tenth part of one. They that have the voice of 
 lions, and the act of hares, are they not monsters'? 
 
 Tro. Are there such 1 such are not we : Praise 
 us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove ; our head 
 shall go bare. till merit crown it: no perfection in 
 reversion shall have a praise in present : we will 
 not name desert before his birth; and, being born, 
 his addition^ shall be humi)Ie. Few words to fair 
 faith: Troilus shall be?Uch to Cressid.as whatenvy 
 can say worst, shall be a mock for his truth; and 
 what truth can speak truest, not truer than Troilus? 
 
 Cres. Will you walk in, my lord! 
 
 Re-enter Pandarus. 
 
 Tan. What, blushing still? have you not done 
 talking yet ? 
 
 Or.v. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedi- 
 cate to you. 
 
 Pan. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy 
 of yon, you'll give him me: Be true to my lord: 
 if he llinch, chide me for it, 
 
 Tro. You know now yjur hostages; your un- 
 cle's word, and my tirm failii. 
 
 Pa7i. Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our 
 kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, 
 they are constant, being won: they are burs, 1 can 
 tell you ; they'll stick wiicre they are thrown. 
 
 Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and brings me 
 lieart: — 
 Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day 
 For many weary months. 
 
 Tro. Why was my Crcssid then so hard fo win 1 
 
 Cres. Hard to seem won ; but I was won, my lord, 
 With the tirst glance that ever — Pardon me ; — ■ 
 If I conti?ss much, you will play the tyrant. 
 
 • Shafts of a carriage. 
 
 • The Jrilusion is to bowling; what is now called the 
 jack, was formerly tunned the mistress. 
 
 » The torcel is the malo and the falcon the fymaly hawk. 
 
 • Titles. 
 
514 
 
 TKOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 I love you now; but not, till now, po mucli 
 But I might master it; — in faith. I lie ; 
 My thoughts were lilie unbridled children, grown 
 Too headstrong for llicir mother: See, we foe Is ! 
 Why have I blabb'd ! who shall be true to us, 
 When we are so unsecret to ourselves ? 
 But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not; 
 And yet, good laith. I wish'd myself a man ; 
 Or that we women had men's privilege 
 Of srpealdng first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue ; 
 I-'or, in this rapture, I shall surely speak 
 The tiling I shall repent. See, see your silence. 
 Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws 
 My very soul of counsel: Stop my mouth. 
 Tro. And shall, albeitsweetmusic issues thence. 
 Pan. Pretty, i' laith. 
 
 Cres. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon mc; 
 Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss : 
 T am ashameil ;— O heavens ! what have I done? — 
 Kor this time will I take my leave, my lord. 
 Tro. Your leave, .sweet Cressid ? 
 Pan. Leave ! an you take leave till to-morrow 
 
 morniiig, 
 
 Crcs. Pray you, content you. 
 Tro. What offends you, lady ? 
 
 Cres. Sir, mine own company. 
 Tro. You cannot shun 
 
 Yourself. 
 
 Cres. Let me go and try : 
 I have a kind of .self resides with you ; 
 But an unkind self, that it,self will leave. 
 To he another's fool. 1 would be gone : 
 Where is my wit] I know not what 1 speak. 
 Tro. Well know they what they speak, that speak 
 
 so wisely. 
 Crcs. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft 
 than love ; 
 And fell so roundly to a large confes.sion. 
 To angle tor your thoughte: But you are wise; 
 Or else you love not; liir to be wise and love, 
 K.xcecds man's might: that dwells with gods above. 
 
 Tro. 0, that I thought it could be in a woman, 
 (.Vs, if It can, I will presume in you.) 
 To li'cd for aye' her lamp and Hames of love 
 To keep her constancy in plight and youth. 
 Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind 
 That doth renew switler than blood decays; 
 Or. that persuasion could but thus convince me, — 
 That my integrity and truth to you 
 Might be alfronted' with the match and weight 
 Of such a winnow'd purity in love; 
 How were I then uplifted ! but ala.s, 
 1 am as true as truth's simplicity. 
 And simpler than the infancy of truth. 
 Cres. In that I'll war with you. 
 'Tro. virtuous tight. 
 
 When right with riglil wars, who shall be most 
 
 right! 6"* . ' 
 
 True swains in love, shall, in the world to come, 
 Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes 
 I''ull of protest, of oath, and big compare. 
 Want similes, truth tired with tieralioii,^ 
 As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 
 As sun to day, as turtle to her mate. 
 As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, — 
 Yet, alter all comparisons of truth, 
 As truth's authentic author to be cited. 
 As true as Troilus shall crown up' the verse, 
 And sanctify the numbers. 
 
 Crts. Prophet may you be ! 
 
 If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth. 
 When time is old and hath lorgot ikelf. 
 When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, 
 And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up. 
 And mighty stales characterless are grated 
 To dusty nothing ; yet let memory. 
 From false to false, among false niaids in love, 
 Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said— as 
 
 false 
 As air, as water, wind, or sandy eartli. 
 As fox to lamb, as wolf to heller's calt; 
 Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ; 
 Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of iiilsehood. 
 As false as Cressid. 
 
 Pan. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; 
 I 11 be thewilness.— Here, I hold your hand; here, 
 my cousin's. If ever you prove laisc one to another, 
 
 'Ever. "Met with and I'liuiilled. 
 
 • Comparison. ' Cond ude. I 
 
 since I have taken such pains to bring you together, 
 
 i let all pitiful gocrs-between be called to the world's 
 
 end after ray name, call tliem all— Pandars; let all 
 
 inconstant men be Troiluses, all false women Cres- 
 
 sids, and all brokcrs-between Pandars ! say, amen 
 
 Tro. Amen. 
 
 Ofes. Amen. 
 
 Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a 
 chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall not 
 speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death : 
 away. 
 And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maid(ms here, 
 Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this gear ! 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— The Grecian Camp 
 Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, 
 Ajax, Meselahs, and Calchas. 
 Cat. Now, princes, for the service I have done you, 
 The advantage of the time prompts me aloud 
 To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind, 
 That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove, 
 I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession, 
 Incurr'd a traitor's name; exposed myself, 
 From certain and possess'd conveniences. 
 To doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me all 
 That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition, 
 Made tame and most familiar to my nature ; 
 And here, to do you service, am become 
 As new into the world, strange, unacquainted: 
 I do beseech you, as in way of taste. 
 To give me now a little benefit. 
 Out of those many register'd in promise. 
 Which, you say, live to come in my behalf. 
 Agam. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make 
 
 demand. 
 Cut. You have a Trojan prisoner call'd Antenor, 
 Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear, 
 Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore) 
 Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, 
 Whom Troy hath still denied: But this Antenor, 
 I know, is such a wrest in their afliiirs. 
 That their negotiations all must slack. 
 Wanting his manage ; and they will almost 
 (live us a prince ot blood, a son of Priam, 
 In change of him : let him be sent, great princes. 
 And he shall buy my daughter: and her presence 
 Shall quit strike otfall service I have done. 
 In most accepted pain. 
 
 Agam. Let Diomedes bear him, 
 
 And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have 
 What he requests of us.— Good Diomed, 
 Furnish you fairly for this interchange: 
 Withal, bring word— if Hector will lo-morrow 
 Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready. - 
 
 J)io. This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden 
 Which I am proud to bear. 
 
 [Ejcetinf Diomedes and Calchas. 
 Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before their Tent. 
 Uli/ss. Achillesslandsi'the entrance of his tent:— 
 Please it our general to pass strangely- by him, 
 As if he were lorgot; and princes all. 
 Lay negligent and loose regard upon him: 
 1 will come last : 'Tis like, he'll question me. 
 Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd 
 
 on him : 
 If so, I have derfsion med'cinable. 
 To use between your strangeness and his pride. 
 Which his own will shall have desire to drink ; 
 It may do good : pride hath no other glass 
 To .show itselt; but pride ; for supple knees 
 Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 
 
 Agatn. We'll execute your purpose, and put on 
 A form of strangeness as we pass along ;— 
 So do each lord ; and either greet him not, 
 Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more 
 Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. 
 Achit. What, comes the general to sjieiiJi with 
 me ' 
 You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. 
 Agnni. What says Achilles? would he aught 
 
 with us? 
 A>.v7. Would you.my lord, aught with tlie general? 
 AcUU. No. 
 
 Acs/. Nothing, my lord. 
 Agani. The better. 
 
 [Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor 
 
 * Like a stranger. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 515 
 
 Achil. Good da}', pood day. 
 
 Men. How do you T how do you ] [Exit Men. 
 
 Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me 1 
 
 Ajax. How now, I'atroclus ! 
 
 Ackil. Good morrow, Ajax, 
 
 Ajax, Ha ■? 
 
 Achil. Good morrow. 
 
 Ajax. Ay, and good next day (oo. 
 
 [Exit Ajax. 
 
 Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they 
 not Achilles ! 
 
 Pair. They pass by strangely: they were used 
 to bend. 
 To send their smiles before them to Achilles: 
 To come as humbly as they used to creep 
 To holy altars. 
 
 AckiL What, am I poor of late 1 
 
 'Tis certain, greatness, once lall'n out with fortune, 
 Must fall out with men too : What the declin'd is. 
 He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, 
 As feel in his own fall: for men, like butlordies. 
 Show not their mealy wings but to the summer ; 
 And not a man, for being simply man. 
 Hath any honor ; but honor lor those honors 
 Tiiat are without iiim, as place, riches, favor, 
 Prizes of accident as oft as merit : 
 Which wJien tliey fall, as being slippery standers, 
 The love that JeanM on them as shppery too, 
 Do one pluck down another, and together 
 Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me: 
 Fortune and I are I'riends ; I do enjoy 
 At ample point all that I did possess. 
 Save these men's looks; who do, methiaks, find 
 
 out 
 Something not worth in me such rich beholding 
 As lliey have often given. Here is Ulysses; 
 I'll interrupt his reading. — 
 How now, Ulysscd \ 
 
 Ulyss. Now. great Thetis' son ? 
 
 Achil. What are you readiiig ? 
 
 Ulyss. A strange fellow here 
 
 Writes me, that man— how dearly ever parted,^ 
 How much in Iiavmg. or without, or in, — 
 Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, 
 Nor feels not what he owes, but by retloction; 
 As when his virtues shining ujxm others 
 Heat them, and they retort tJiat heat again 
 To the tirst giver. 
 
 Achil. Thin is not strange, Ulysses. 
 
 The beauty that is borne here in tlie face 
 The bearer kuows not, but cuinmcmls itself 
 To other's eyes : nor doth the f> c itself 
 (That most pure spirit of sense) behold itself. 
 Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed 
 fiaiutcs each other with each other's form. 
 For speculation turns not to itself. 
 Till it hath traveil'd, and is married there 
 Where it may see itself: Ihis is not strange at all. 
 
 Ulyss. [ do not strain at the position. 
 It is'lamiliar; but at the authors drift: 
 Who, in his circumstance,'' expressly proves — 
 That uo man is the lord of any thing, 
 (Though ill and of him there be much consisting,) 
 Till he communicate his parts to others: 
 Nor doth he of himself know them for aught. 
 Till he behold tht-m I'orm'd in the applause 
 Where tiiey are extended, which, like an arch re- 
 verberates 
 The voice again; or like a gate of steel 
 Fronting the sun. receives and renders back 
 His figure and his iieat. I was much ftpt in this; 
 And apprehended here immediately 
 The unknown Ajax. 
 
 Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse; 
 That has he knows not what. Nature, what things 
 
 there are. 
 Most abject in regard, and dear in use ! 
 What things again most dear in the esteem. 
 And poor in worth ! now shall we see to-morrow, 
 An act that very chance doth throw upon him, 
 Ajax rennwn'd. O heavens, what some men do, 
 VVhile some men leave to do! 
 How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, 
 Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes! 
 How one man eats into atiother*s pride. 
 While pride is fasting in his wantonness! 
 To see these Grecian lords! — why, even already 
 They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder; 
 
 • Excellently endowed. 
 
 * Detail of argument. 
 
 As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast, 
 And great Troy shrinking. 
 
 Achil. I do believe it: ibr they pass'd by me, 
 As misers do by beggars; neither gave to me 
 Good word, nor look: What. are my deeds fort^otl 
 
 Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, 
 Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, 
 A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: 
 Those scraps are good deeds past; which arc de- 
 
 vour'd 
 As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
 As done: Perseverance, dear my lord, 
 Keej^s honor bright : To have done is to hang 
 Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 
 In motiumental mockery. Take the instant way; 
 For honor travels in a strait so narrow. 
 Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path ; 
 For emulation halh a thousand sons. 
 That one by one pursue: if you give way, 
 Or hedge aside from the direct Ibrthright^ 
 Like to an entered tide they all rush by, 
 And leave you hnidmost ; — 
 Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank. 
 Die there for pavement to the abject rear, 
 O'er-run and trampled on : Then what they do in 
 
 present. 
 Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours : 
 For time is like a fashionable host. 
 That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand; 
 And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly. 
 Grasps in the comer: Welcome ever smiles. 
 And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue 
 
 seek 
 Remuneration for the thing it was; 
 For tfcavity, wit, 
 
 High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, 
 I.ctve, fritmdship, charity, are subjects all 
 To envious and calumniating tune. 
 One touch of nature makes tiie whole world kin,— 
 Thatall.with one consent, praise new-born gawds,^ 
 Though they are made and moulded of things past; 
 And give to dust, that is a iitl'.e gilt. 
 More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. 
 The present eye praises the present object : 
 Tiien marvel not, thou great and cnmplete man. 
 That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; 
 Since things in motion sooner catch the eye. 
 Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee, 
 And still it miglit; and yet it may again. 
 If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive, 
 And case Ihy reimtaliun in thy tent; 
 Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late. 
 Made emulous missions^ 'mongst tlie gods them- 
 selves. 
 And drave great Mars to faction. 
 
 Achil. Of this my privacy 
 
 I iiavc strong reasons. 
 
 Ulyss. But 'gainst your privacy 
 
 The reasons are more potent and heroical: 
 'Tis known, Achilb's. that you are in love 
 With one of Priam's daughters.' 
 
 Achil. Ha! known] 
 
 Ulyss. Is that a wonder ? 
 The providence that's in a watchful state. 
 Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold ; 
 Finds bottom in the nncomprehensive deeps; 
 Keeps place witii thought, and almost litlce the goda, 
 Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. 
 There is a mystery (with whom relation 
 Durst never meddle) in the soul of state; 
 Which hath an operation more divine. 
 Than breath, or pen. can give expressure to ; 
 All the commiirce that you have had with Troy, 
 As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord ; 
 And better would it lit Achilles much, « 
 
 To throw down Hector, than Polyxena: 
 But it must grieve youn^ Pyrrhus now at home, 
 When lame shall in our islands sound her irump • 
 And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,— 
 Great Hector s si.'^ter did Achilles win ; 
 But our great Ajax lyravely beat doivn him. 
 Farewell my lord: I as your iover'^ speak; 
 The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break- 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pair. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you : 
 A woman impudent and mannish grown 
 
 » New-fashioned toys. 
 
 8 The dfs<-eat of the deities to combat on either slrte. 
 
 1 Polyxena. ■ Friend. 
 
516 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Is not more loalhM than an effeminate man 
 In time of action. I stand condemn'd lor this; 
 Tliey think, my little stomach to the war. 
 And your great love to me, restrains you thus: 
 Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid 
 Shall from your neck unloose his auiorous fold, 
 And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, 
 Be shook to air. 
 
 Achil: Shall Ajax fight with Hector? 
 
 Pair. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honor hy 
 him. 
 
 Achil. I see. my reputation is at stake ; 
 ]\lv fume is shrewdly gor'd. 
 
 Patr, O, then beware ! 
 
 Those wounds heal ill,thatmen do give themselves: 
 Omission to do what is necessary 
 Seals a commission to a blank of danger; 
 And danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
 Even then when we sit idly in the sun. 
 
 Achil. Go call Tliersites hither, sweet Patroclus : 
 I'll send the fool to Ajax. and desire him 
 To invite tlie Trojan iords after the combat. 
 To see us here unarm'd ; 1 have a woman's longing, 
 An appetite that 1 am sick withal. 
 To see great Hector in his weeds of peace; 
 To talk with him, and to behold his visage 
 Even to my full of view. A labor sav'd ! 
 
 Enfe7- Thersites. 
 
 Ther. A wonder ! 
 
 Achil. What] 
 
 Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking 
 for himself. 
 
 Achil. How sol 
 
 Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hec- 
 tor; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical 
 cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. 
 
 Achil. How can that be! 
 
 Thsr. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, 
 a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, 
 that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down 
 iier reckoning : bites his lip with a politic regard, 
 as who shoulct say — there were wit in this head, an 
 I would out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in 
 him as fire in a Hint, wliich will not show without 
 kuocking. The man's undone forever; Imif Hector 
 break not his neck i' the combat, he'll br<';ik it liiin- 
 self in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said, dum/- 
 morrow, Ajax; and hcrcplies,Thank\s,Aga//ieiunon. 
 What think you of this man, that t;ikes me for the 
 general 1 He has grown a very land-Iish, language- 
 
 less, a monster. A plague of opinion ! a man may 
 wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. 
 
 Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, 
 Thersites. 
 
 Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he 
 professes not answering; speaking is for beggars; 
 he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his 
 presence; let Patroclus make demands to me, you 
 shall sec the pageant of Ajax. 
 
 Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him.— T humbly 
 desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most vaforoua 
 Hector to come unarmed to my tent ; and to procure 
 safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous,and 
 mostillustrious,six-or-seven-timcshoiioi-edcaptain 
 generalof the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this 
 
 Patr. Jove bless great Ajax ! 
 
 Ther. Humph ! 
 
 Pair. I come from the worthy Achilles, 
 
 Ther. Ha! 
 
 Pair. Who most humbly desires you, to invite 
 Hector to his tent ! 
 
 Ther. Humph! 
 
 Pair. And to procure safe conduct from Aga- 
 memnon. 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon'] 
 
 Pair, Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ther. Ha ! 
 
 Pfilr. What say you to*t? 
 
 Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart. 
 
 Pu/r. Your answer, sir. 
 
 Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day. by eleven oVlock 
 it will go one way or other; howsoever, he shall pay 
 for me ere he has me. 
 
 Pair. Your answer, sir. 
 
 Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 
 
 Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he ] 
 
 Ther. No. but he's out of tune thus. What music 
 will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his 
 brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the 
 fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings' on. 
 
 Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him 
 straight. 
 
 Ther. Let me bearanother to his horse; for that's 
 the more capable- creature. 
 
 Achil. My mind is troubled.like a fountain stirr'd; 
 And 1 myself see not the bottom of it. 
 
 [Exeu/tt Achilles and Patroclus. 
 
 Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were 
 clear again, that I might water an ass at it I I had 
 rather be a tick in a sheeo, than such a valiant 
 ignorance. [Exit, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Troy. A Slreei. 
 
 Enfer, at one side, /Eneas and Servant, with a 
 Torch ; at the other, Paris, Deiimiobus, Ante- 
 KOR, DioMEDi!:s, and others, with Torches. 
 
 Par. Sec, ho ! who's that there 1 
 
 Dei. 'Tis the lord ^Tineas. 
 
 .Ene. Is the prince there in person] — 
 Had I so good occasion to lie long, 
 As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly busi- 
 ness 
 Should rob my bed-mate of my company. 
 
 Div. That's'my mind too. — Good morrow, lord 
 j^neas. 
 
 Par. A valiant Greek, j^neas ; take his hand : 
 Witness the process of your speech, wherein 
 You told — how Dionied, a wliole week by days, 
 Did haunt you in the field. 
 
 .Ene. Ilealth (o you, valiant, sir. 
 
 During all question^ of the gentle truce: 
 But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance. 
 As heart can think, or courage execute. 
 
 I)io. The one and other Diomed embraces. 
 Our bloods are now in calm ; and, so long, health : 
 But when contention and oecasiou meet. 
 By Jove. I'll play the hunter for thy life, 
 VVith all my force, pursuit, and policy. 
 
 .Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion that will fly 
 With his face backward. — In humane gentleness, 
 Welcome to Troy I now, by Anchises' life, 
 » Convi-irsation. 
 
 Welcome, indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear, 
 
 No man alive can love, in such a sort, 
 
 The thing he means to kill, more excellently. 
 
 Dio. We sympathize: — Jove, let .^,npas live. 
 If to my sword his fate be not the glory, 
 A thousand c6mplete courses of the sun ! 
 But, in mine emulous honor, let hiritdie, 
 With every joint a wound : and that to-morrow! 
 
 JEne. We know each other well. 
 
 Dix). We do; and long to know each other worse 
 
 Par. This is the most despitelul gentle greeting 
 The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. — 
 What business, lord, so early I 
 
 ^Ene. I was sent for to "the king; but why, I 
 know not. 
 
 Pur. His purpose meets you: 'Twas to bring this 
 Greek 
 To Calchas* house; and there to render him. 
 For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid : 
 Let's have your company: or, if you please. 
 Haste there before us: I constantly do think, 
 (Or, rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,) 
 My brother Troilus lodges there to-night ; 
 Rouse him. and give him note of our approach, 
 With the whole quality wherefore: I fear 
 We shall be much unwelcome. 
 
 jEne. There I assure you 
 
 Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, 
 Then Cressid borne from Troy. 
 
 « Lutp-striugs made of catgut. 
 « Intellib'eut. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 5Vi 
 
 Par* There is no help ; 
 
 The bitter disposition of the time 
 Will have it so. Dn. lord ; we'll follow you. 
 
 jEne. Good morrow, all. [Exit. 
 
 Par. And tell me, noble Diomed ; Yailh, tell me 
 true, 
 Even in the soul of sound f;ood fellowship, — 
 Who, in yonr thoiie^hts, merits fair Helen best, 
 M^ self or Menelaus ] 
 
 Din. Both alike: 
 
 He merits well to have her, that doth seek her 
 (Not makins: any scruple of her soiUire) 
 With such a hell of pain, and world ofcharg:e: 
 And you as well to keep her, that detend her 
 (Not palating the taste of her dishonor] 
 With such a costly loss of wealth and triends: 
 He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up 
 The Ices and 6re^s of a fiat tamed piece ; 
 You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins 
 Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors: 
 Both merits poisM, each weighs nor less nor more ; 
 But he as he, the heavier for a whore. 
 
 Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. 
 
 Z>io. She's bitter to her country: Hear me, 
 Paris, — 
 For every lalse drop in her bawdy veins 
 A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scruple 
 Of her contaminated carrion weight, 
 A Trojan halh been slain: since she could speak 
 She hath not given so many good words breath. 
 As for her Greeks and Troians suffer'd death. 
 
 Par. Fair Diomed. you do as chapmen do, 
 Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy : 
 But we in silence hold this virtue woll,^ 
 We'll not commend what we intend to s^U. 
 Here lies our way. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Court before the House ofVundarus. 
 Enter Tuoilus and Ckessida. 
 
 Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. 
 
 Cres. Then, sweet my lord, Til call mine uncle 
 down 
 He shall unbolt the gates. 
 
 Tro. Trouble him not: 
 
 To bed, to bed : Sleep kill those pretty eyes, 
 And give as sotl attachment to thy senses, 
 As int'ants' empty of all thought ! 
 
 Cres. Good morrow then. 
 
 Tro, Pr'ythee now, to bed. 
 
 Cres. Are you aweary of me T 
 
 Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, 
 Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald^ crows, 
 And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 
 
 would not from thee. 
 
 Cres. Night hath been too brief. 
 
 Tru. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights 
 she stays. 
 As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love, 
 Witli wings' more momenlary-swill than thought. 
 You will catch cold, and curse me. 
 
 Cres. Pr'ythee, tarry; — 
 
 You men will never tarry. 
 
 foolish Cre^d! — I might have still held off. 
 And then you would have tarried. Hark ! there's 
 
 one up. 
 Pan. \lVithin.] What, are all the doors open 
 
 here ] 
 Tro. It is your uncle. 
 
 Enter Pandahus. 
 Cres. A pestilence on him ! now will he be 
 mocking; 
 
 1 shall have such a life. 
 
 Pan. How now, how now I how go maiden- 
 heads ? 
 —Here, you maid ! where's my cousin Cressid 1 
 Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking 
 uncle ! 
 You bring me to do,-* and then you flout me too. 
 
 Pan. To do what 7 to do what? — let her say 
 what; what have I brought you to do ! 
 
 Cres. Come, come; beshrew your heart! you'll 
 ne'er be good. 
 Nor sufl^er others. 
 
 Pan. Ha, ha ! Alas, poor wretch ! a poor ca- 
 pocchia!^ — hast not slept to-night? would he not, 
 
 » Noisy. * Tn do is here used in a wanton sense. 
 
 • An Italian word for poor foul. 
 
 a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take 
 
 him ! [Knocking. 
 
 Cres. Did T not tell you 1— 'would he were 
 knock'd o' the head ! — 
 Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. — 
 My lord, come you again into my chamber: 
 You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. 
 
 Tro. Ha. ha ! 
 
 Cres. Come, you are dcceiv'd, I think of no such 
 thing.— [Knockinf^. 
 
 How earnestly thej-^ knock ! pray you, come in ; 
 1 would not for half Troy have you seen here. 
 
 [Exetiiit TnoiLrs ajid Cuessida. 
 
 Pan. [Going to fke doftr.] Who's there? what's 
 tne matter? will you beat down the door ? How 
 now ? what's the matter i 
 
 Enter ^neas. 
 
 jSne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. 
 
 Pafi. Who's there! my lord ,^neas? By my 
 troth, I knew ye not: what news with you so 
 early? 
 
 -"Smc, Is not prince Troilus here * 
 
 Pan. Here! what should he do here? 
 
 JEne. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny him; 
 It doth iuiport him much to speak with me. 
 
 Pan. Is he here say you ? 'tis more than I know, 
 ril be svvnru : — For my own part, I came in late: 
 What should he do here ? 
 
 jE)ie. Who! — nay, then: — 
 Come, come, vou Ml do hiui wrong ere you are 'ware: 
 You'll be so true to him, to be false to him: 
 Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him hither; 
 Go. 
 
 As Pandarl'S is going out, enter Troilus. 
 
 Tro. H'lw now ? what's the matter? 
 
 yEne. .My lord,! scarce have leisure to salute you, 
 My mailer is so rash fi There is at hand 
 Paris your brother,and Deiphobus. 
 Tlie Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor 
 Delivcr'd to us; and lor him forthwith, 
 Ere the tirst sacrilice within this hour, 
 ,We must give up to Diomedes' hand 
 The lady Cressida. 
 
 Tro. Is it so concluded ? 
 
 AZne. By Priam, and the general stateof Troy ; 
 They are at iiaud.and ready to etiect it. 
 
 Tro. How my achievements mock me ! 
 I will go meet them : and, my lord JEneas, 
 We met by chance; you did not tind me here. 
 
 jEne. Good, good, my lord ; the secrets of nature 
 Have not more gift in taciturnity. 
 
 [Exeunt Troilus and .^\EAa. 
 
 Pan. Is't possible! no sooner got, but lost? The 
 devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. 
 A plague upon Antenor, 1 would they had broke's 
 neck! 
 
 Enter Cressida. 
 
 Cres. How now ? What is the matter ? Who 
 was here ? 
 
 Pan. Ah, ah ! 
 
 Cres. Why sigh j'ou so profoundly? where's 
 my lord gone? 
 Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? 
 
 Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as 
 I am above ! 
 
 Cres. the gods! — what's the matter? 
 
 Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in; 'Would thou hadst 
 ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be bis 
 death :— poor gentleman !— A plague upon An- 
 tenor! 
 
 Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, 
 I beseech you, what's the matter? 
 
 Pan. Tliou must be gone, wench, thou mu.st oe 
 gone; thou art changed tor Antenor; thou must 
 to thy tather, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be 
 his death : 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. 
 
 Cres. O you immortal gods! — I will not go. 
 
 Pan. Thou must. 
 
 Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; 
 I know no touch of consanguinity;'^ 
 No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me. 
 As the sweet Troilus. — you gods divine ! 
 Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, 
 If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, 
 Do to this body what extremes you can; 
 
 • Uasty, 1 Senge or feeling of relationship. 
 
518 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 But the strong base and Iniilding of my love 
 Is as the very centre of the earth, 
 Drawing all things to it. — I'll go in, and weep; — 
 Pan. Do, do. 
 
 Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch ray 
 praised checks ; 
 Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart 
 With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. 
 
 [Exeunt.. 
 
 SCENE \U.— Before Pandarus' House. 
 
 Enter Paris, Troilus, TEkeas, Deiphobus, 
 
 AxTEXOR, and Diomedes. 
 Par. It is great morninsc ; and the hour prefixed 
 Of her delivery to this valiant Greek 
 Comes last upon:— Good my brother Troilus, 
 Tell you the lady what she is to do, 
 And haste her to the purpose. 
 . Tro. Walk into her house ; 
 
 1*11 bring her to the Grecian presently: 
 And to Jiis hand wheji I deliver her. 
 TJnnk it an altar ; and thy brother Troilus 
 A priest, there olfering to it his own lieart, [Exit. 
 
 Par. I know wliat 'tis to love; 
 And 'would, as 1 shall pity, I could help ! — 
 Please you, walk in, my lords. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— -4 Room in Pandarus' House. 
 Enter Pandarus and Cressida. 
 
 Pan. Be moderate, be moderate, 
 
 Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? 
 The grief is tine, lull, perfect, that I taste, 
 And violenteth in a sense as strong 
 As that which causeth it: Plow can I moderate if? 
 if I could temporize with my atTection, 
 Or brew it to a weak and colder palate. 
 The like allayment could I give my grief; 
 My love admits no qualifying dross: 
 No more my grief in such a precious loss. 
 Enter Troilus. 
 
 Pan. Here, here, here he comes. — Ah, sweet 
 ducks ! 
 
 Ores. Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing Mm: 
 
 Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me 
 
 embrace too : heart ! as the goodly saying is, 
 
 O heart, O heavy heart .' 
 
 IVhij sigh'st thou without breaking ? 
 where he answers again, 
 
 Because thou canst not ease fhy smarts 
 By friendship, nor by speaking. 
 There never was a truer rliyme. Let us cast away 
 nothing, for we may live to Jiave need of such a 
 verse ; we see it, we see it. — How now, lambs ] 
 
 Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, 
 That the blest gods — as angry with my fancy, 
 More bright in zeal than the "devotion whirh 
 Cold lips blow to their deities — take thee from me. 
 
 Cres. Have the gods envy 1 
 
 Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay ; 'tis too plain a case. 
 
 Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy 1 
 
 Tro. A hateful truth. 
 
 Cres. What, and from Troilus too 1 
 
 Tro. From Troy and Troilus. 
 
 Cres. Is it possible ? 
 
 Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance 
 Puts back leave-taking, justies roughly by 
 All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips 
 Of all rejoindure, forcibfy prevents 
 Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows 
 Even in the birth of our own laboring breath : 
 We two, that with so many thousand sighs 
 Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves 
 With the rude brevity and discharge of one. 
 Injurious time now, with a robber's haste. 
 Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: 
 As many farewells as be stars in heaven, 
 With distinct breath and consi^^n'd^ kisses to them. 
 He fumbles up into a loose adieu ; 
 And scants us with a single famish'd kiss. 
 Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 
 
 jEne. [iVithin.] My lord! is the lady ready ? 
 
 Tro, Hark! youarecall'd: Some say, the Genius 
 so 
 Criefi, Come! to him that instantly must die. — 
 Bid them have patience : she shall come anon. 
 « Sealed. 
 
 Pan. Whereare my tears'? rain, to lay this wind, 
 or my heart will be blown up by the root! 
 
 [Exit Pandarus. 
 
 Cres. I must then to tlie (Greeks I 
 
 Tro. No remedy. 
 
 Cres. A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! 
 When shall we see again \ 
 
 Tro. Hear me, my \o\e\ Be thou but true of 
 heart, 
 
 Cres. I true! how now? what wicked deem^ is 
 this ? 
 
 Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, 
 For it is parting from us : 
 I speak not. he thou true, as fearing thee; 
 For I will throw my glove to death himself. 
 That there's no maculatlon* in thy heart; 
 But, be thou true, say I, to fashion in 
 My sequent-^ protestation : be thou true, 
 And I will see thee. 
 
 Crss. O, you shall be expos'd.my lord, to dangers 
 As infinite as imminent ! but, I'll be ti-ue. 
 
 Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear 
 this sleeve. 
 
 Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you ^ 
 
 Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, 
 To give thee nightly visitation. 
 But yet, be true. 
 
 Cres. O heavens ! — be true again? 
 
 Tro. Hear why I speak it, love ; 
 The Grecian youths are full of quality ;3 
 They're loving, well compos 'd, with girts of nature 
 
 (lowing. 
 And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; 
 How novelty may move, and parts with person, 
 Alas, a kind of godly jealousy 
 (Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin) 
 Makes me afeard. 
 
 Cres. heavens! you love me not. 
 
 Tro. Die I a villain then ! 
 In this I do not call your faith in question. 
 So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing, 
 Nor heel the hitch iavolt,^ nor sweeten talk. 
 Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all, 
 To which the Grecians are most prompt and preg- 
 nant; 
 But I can tell, that in each grace of these 
 There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil. 
 That tempts most cunningly : but be not tempted. 
 
 Cres. Do you think I will 1 
 
 Tro. No. 
 Rut something may be done, that we will not: 
 And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, 
 When we will tempt the frailly of our powers, 
 Presuming on their changeful potency. 
 
 yEne. [IVUhin.] Nay, good my lord. 
 
 Tro. Come, kiss; and let us part. 
 
 Par. [JVithin.] Brother Troilus ! 
 
 Tro. Good brother, come you hither; 
 
 And bring ^^neas, and the Grecian, with you. 
 
 Cres. My lord, will you be true ] 
 
 Tro. Who. I ] alas, it is my vice, my fault: 
 While others tish with cratt for great opinion, 
 I with great truth catch mere simplicity ; 
 Whilst some with cunning gild their^ropper crowns, 
 With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. 
 Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit 
 Is — plain, and true, — ttiere's all the r*?ach of it. 
 
 Enter ^neas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphodus, 
 a?id Diomedes. 
 
 Welcome, sir Diomed ! here is the lady, 
 Which for Antenor we deliver you ; 
 At the port,^ lord, I'll give her to thy hand ; 
 And, by the way, possess^ thee what she is. 
 Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, 
 If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword. 
 Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe 
 As Priam is in Ilion. 
 
 i>M>. Fair lady Cressid, 
 
 So please you, save the thanks this prince expects ; 
 The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek. 
 Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed 
 You shall be mistress, and command him wholly, 
 
 Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, 
 To shame the zeal of mv petition to thee. 
 In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, 
 
 • Surmise. * Spot. ' Kollowlni;, 
 
 > lliu'hly accomplished. * A iLince. 
 
 ' Gate. « Inform. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 TllOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 519 
 
 She is as far hish-snaring o'er thy praises. 
 As tliou unworthy to be ealled her servant. 
 I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge; 
 For, hy the (Ireailfiil Pluto, if thou dost not. 
 Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, 
 I'll cut tliy throat. 
 
 Din. O, be not tnovM, prince Troilus , 
 
 Let me be privilejied by my place, and message. 
 To be a speaker free; when I am hence. 
 I'll answer to my lust:" And know you, lord, 
 I'll nothing do on charge; To her own worth 
 She shall be priz'd ; but that you say— be'l so, 
 I'll speak it in my spirit and honor, — no. 
 
 Tro. Come, to ihe port. — I'll tell thee, Diomed, 
 This brave shall oil make thee to bide thy heaa. — 
 Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk. 
 To our own selves bend we our needful talk. 
 
 [Ej:eunt Tboilcs, Cressioa. oori Diojren. 
 [Trumpet heara. 
 
 Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet. 
 
 jflnn. How have we spent this morning 1 
 
 The prince must think me tardy and remiss, 
 That swore to ride before him to the field. 
 
 Par, 'Tis Troilus' fault: Come, come to the field 
 with him. 
 
 Dei. Let us make ready straight. 
 
 A^rie. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity, 
 Let us address to tend on Hector's heels : 
 The glory of our Troy doth this day lie, 
 On his lair worth and single chivalrj'. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Y.—The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. 
 
 Enter Ajax. armed; AOAjruMSON, AcniLLKS, Pa- 
 
 TROCLUS, Menelacs, Ulysses, Nestok, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Agam. Here art thou in appointment' fresh and 
 fair. 
 Anticipating time with starting courage. 
 Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, 
 Thou dreadful Ajax ; that the appalled air 
 May pierce the head of the great combatant, 
 And hale him hither. 
 
 Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. 
 
 Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe; 
 Blow, villain, till thy s])bercd bias' cheek 
 <lut-swell the colic of pulf'd Aquiloii; 
 Come.stretcbtbychest. and let thy eyes spout blood; 
 Thou blow'st for Hector. [Trumpet sfjunds. 
 
 U/i/ss. No trumpet answers. 
 
 Acliil. 'Tis but early days. 
 
 Agam. Is not yon Diomed, with Calcbas' daugh- 
 ter? 
 
 Uti/ss. 'Tis he. I ken the manner of liis gait: 
 He rises on the toe : that spirit of his 
 In aspiration litis him from the earth. 
 
 Enter Diomed, witti Cressida. 
 
 Agam. Is this the lady Cressid I 
 
 Dio. Even she. 
 
 Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, 
 sweet lady. 
 
 Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. 
 
 Uli/ss. Yet is the kindness but particular; 
 'Twere lietter, she were kiss'd in general. 
 
 Nest. And very courtly counsel : I'll begin. — 
 So much for Nestor. 
 
 Acliil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair 
 lady: 
 Achilles bids you welcome. 
 
 Men. I had good argument fir kissing once. 
 
 Patr. But that's no argument for kissing now: 
 For thus popp'd Paris in his h.irdiment; 
 And parted thus you and your argument. 
 
 Utvsf. deadly gall and themeof all our.scorns! 
 For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns. 
 
 Pair. The first was Menelaus' kiss;— this, mine: 
 P.ilroclus kisses you. 
 
 Men. O. this is trim ! 
 
 Patr. Paris, and I, kiss evermore for him. 
 
 Men. I'll have my kiss, sir: — Lady, by your 
 leave. 
 
 Cres. In kissing, do you render or receive 1 
 
 Pair. Both take and give. 
 
 Cres. I'll make my match to live. 
 
 The kiss you take is better than you give ; 
 Therefore no kiss. 
 
 Men. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for 
 
 ^ Pleasure, will. 
 
 8 Preparation. 
 
 Cres. You're an odd man ; give even or give 
 none. 
 
 J^ten. .\n odd man, lady? every man is odd. 
 
 Cres. No, Paris is not ; for, you know, 'tis true, 
 That you are odd. and he is even with you. 
 
 Men. You fillip me o' the head. 
 
 C're.9. No, I'll be sworn. 
 
 Uli/ss. It were no match, j'our nail against hi3 
 liorn. — 
 May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? 
 
 Cres. You may. 
 
 Ult/ss. I do desire it. 
 
 Cres. Why, beg then. 
 
 Vljfss. Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss, 
 Wlletj Helen is a maid again, and his. 
 
 Cres. I am your debtor, clami it when 'tis due. 
 
 Uli/ss. Never's my day. and then a kiss of \on. 
 
 Dio. Lady, a word ; I'll bring you to your father. 
 [Diomed leads out Cressida. 
 
 Nest. A woman of quick sense. 
 
 Uli/ss. Fye, fye upon her ! 
 
 There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip. 
 Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirit-s look out 
 At every joint and motive^ of her body. 
 O. these enconnterers, so glib of tongue, 
 Tiiat give a coasting welcome ere it comes. 
 And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
 To every ticklish reader! set them down 
 For sluttish spoils of opportunity. 
 And daughters of the game. [Trumpet tcittiin. 
 
 All. The Trojans' trumpet. 
 
 Agarn. Yonder comes the troop. 
 
 Enter Hector, armed; iEs'EAS. Troilus, and 
 otlter Trojans, loith Attendants. 
 
 JEne. Hail, all the .state of Greece ! what shall 
 be done 
 To him that viclon'commands? Ordoyou purpose, 
 X victor shall be known ? will you the knights 
 Shall to the edge of all extremity 
 Pifrsue each other; or shall tliey be divided 
 By any voice or order of the field ! 
 Hector bade ask. 
 
 Agam. Which way would Hector have it? 
 
 AZne. He cares not; he'll obey conditions. 
 
 Acliil. 'Tis done like Hector ; but securely done, 
 A little proudly, and great deal misprising 
 The knight oppos'd, 
 
 .Ene. If not Achilles, sir. 
 
 What is your name ? 
 
 Achil. If not Achilles, nothing. 
 
 Alne. Therefore Achilles : But, whatc'er, know 
 this;— 
 In Ihe extremity of great and little, 
 Valor and pride excel them.selves in Hector; 
 The one almost as infinite as at!. 
 The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well. 
 And that, which looks like pride, is emirtesy. 
 This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood: 
 In love whereof, half Hector stays at home; 
 Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek 
 This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek. 
 
 Achil. A maiden battle then? — 0,1 perceive you. 
 Re-enter Diomed. 
 
 Agam. Here is sir Diomed :— Go, gentle knight, 
 Stand by our Ajax : as you and lord iEneas 
 Consent upon the order of their fight, 
 So be it; either to the uttermost. 
 Or else a breath :' the combatants being kin. 
 Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. 
 [Ajax and Hector enter tlic LiMs. 
 
 UI1/.1S. They are oppos'd already. 
 
 Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks so 
 heavy ? 
 
 Uli/ss. The' youngest son of Priam, a true knight; 
 Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word ; 
 Speaking in deecis, and deedless in his tongue ; 
 Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon calm'd : 
 His heart and hand both open, and both free; 
 For what he has, he gives ; what thinks, he shows; 
 Yet gives he not, till judgment guide his bounty, 
 Nor dignifies an impair- thought with breath : 
 Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ; 
 For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes' 
 To tender objects ; but he, in heat of action. 
 Is more vindicative than jealous love : 
 They call him Troilus ; and on him erect 
 
 » Motion. » Breattiing, exercise. 
 
 ' Unsuitible to his character. > Yields, gives ivay. 
 
520 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act ly. Scene V. 
 
 A second hope, as fairly built as Hertor. 
 Thus says iBneas : one that knows the youth 
 Kven to his inches, and, with private soul, 
 Did in great Ilion thus translate-* him to me. 
 
 [Alarum. Hector and AjAXfighf. 
 Jgarri. They are in action. 
 Nesf. NoWj Ajax, hold thine own! 
 Tro. Hoctor, thou sleep'st ; 
 
 Awake thee ! 
 Again. His blows are well disposed: — there, Ajax! 
 JJio. You must no more. [Trumpets ctase. 
 
 j^ne. Princes, enough, so please you. 
 
 AJax. I am not warm yet, let us hght again. 
 JJin. As Hector pleases. 
 
 llec/. Why, then, will I no more : — 
 
 Thou art, great lord, my lather's sister's son, 
 A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ; 
 The obligation of our blood forbids 
 A gory emulation 'twixt us twain : 
 Were thy commixion (Ireek and Trojan so, 
 That thou couldst say — This lutnd is drccitm all, 
 And this is 7Vfi/(in ; ihr si/icw.s of this kg 
 All Gretk\ and fkis all Troy ; my mother s blood 
 Huns on the dexter'" clieekj and this smister^ 
 Bounds-in my fat tier s ; by Jove multipotent, 
 Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish mem- 
 ber 
 Wherein my sword had not impressure made 
 Of our rank feud: But tlie just gods gainsay, ' 
 That any drop thou borrow'st from thy mother, 
 My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword 
 Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : 
 By hint that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; 
 Hector would have them fall upon him thus: 
 Cousin, all honor to thee ! 
 
 Ajax. I thank thee, Hector: 
 
 Thou art too gentle, and too free a man: 
 I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence 
 A great addition earned in thy death. 
 
 licet. Not Neoplolemus so mirable , 
 
 fOn whose bright crest Fame with herloud'stO yes 
 Cries, Ttilf is he) could promise to himself 
 A thought of added honor torn from Hector. 
 
 ^'S;?(e.Thereisexpeetance here from both the sides, 
 What further you will do, 
 
 Jhct. We'll answer it ; 
 
 Tlic i^sue is embracement: — Ajax, farewell. 
 Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success, 
 (As seld" I have the chance,) I would desire 
 my famous cousin to our Grecian tents. 
 
 Vh. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish : and great Achilles 
 Doth long to sec unarm'd the valiant Hector. 
 
 Ilcct. -'Eneas, call my brother Troilus to me : 
 And signify this loving interview 
 To the expecters of our Trojan part; 
 Desire them home. — Give me thy hand, my cousin; 
 I will go eat with thee, and see your knights. 
 ^'IJax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. 
 Ilcct. The worthiest of them tell me name by 
 name; 
 But for Achilles, my own searching eyes 
 Shall hnd him by his large and portly size. 
 
 Agani. Worthy of arms, as welcome as to one 
 That would be rid of such an enemy ; 
 But that's no welcome: Understand more clear, 
 What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with 
 
 husks 
 And formless ruin of oblivion ; 
 But in this extant moment, faith and troth, 
 Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing 
 Bids thee, with most divine inle^^rity. 
 From heart of very heart, ;;ri'at llteior, welcome. 
 ikct. I thank thee, most I iiipo no us"^ Agamemnon. 
 Agam. My well-tamed lord of Troy, no less to 
 you. [To Troili's. 
 
 Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's 
 greeting;— 
 You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. 
 Hec(. Whom must we answer? 
 Men. The noble Menclaus. 
 
 Hcct. you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, 
 thanks I 
 Mock not, that I allect the unlraded oath ; 
 Your quondam wile swears still by Venus' glove: 
 Sh<*'s well, but bade me not commend her to you. 
 Men. Name hernotnow,sir* slie'sadeadly ttieme. 
 Uect. O pardnn ; 1 olleii 
 
 « Explain his ch;iinrtpr. 
 • Lefu 1 Sk-ldoin. 
 
 • ltii,'ht. 
 ■ Iniiieriiil. 
 
 Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, 
 Laboring for destiny, make cruel way 
 Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have seen 
 
 thee, 
 As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
 Despising many fbrleits and subduements,^ 
 AVhen thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air, 
 Not letting it decline on the declin'd; 
 That I have said to some my standers-by, 
 Lo, Jupiter w y(mder, dealing life ! 
 And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath, 
 When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in? 
 Like an Olympian wrestling : This iiave I seen ; 
 But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, 
 I never saw till now. I knew thy giandstre,'' 
 And once fought w-ith him: he was a soldier good; 
 But, by great Mars, the captain of iis all, 
 Never like thee: Let an old man embrace thee; 
 And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. 
 
 jEne. 'Tis the old Nestor, 
 
 Heet. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, 
 That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time: — 
 Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee ; 
 
 Nest, I would, my arms could match thee in 
 contention. 
 As they contend with thee in courtesy. 
 
 Hect. I would they could. 
 
 Nest. Ha ! 
 By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. 
 Well, welcome, welcome ! I have seen the time — - 
 
 Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands, 
 When we have here her base and pillar by us. 
 
 Hcct. 1 know your liivor, lord Ulysses, well. 
 Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead. 
 Since first I saw yourself and Diomed 
 In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. 
 
 Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: 
 My prophecy is but half his journey yet; 
 For yonder wails, that pertly front your town, 
 Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, 
 Must kiss their own feet. 
 
 Hect. I must not believe you : 
 
 There they stand yet; and modestly I think, 
 The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost 
 A drop of Grecian blood : The end crowns all ; 
 And that old common arbitrator. Time, 
 Will one day end it, 
 
 Ulyss. So to him we leave it. 
 
 Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome : 
 Atler the general, I beseech you next 
 To feast with me, and see me at my tent. 
 
 Achil. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, thou ! — 
 Now, Hector, 1 have ted mine eyes on thee; 
 1 have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector, 
 And quoted' joint by joint. 
 
 Hect. Is this Achilles ? 
 
 Actiil. I am AchUles. 
 
 Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee : let me look on thee. 
 
 Achil. Behold thy lill. 
 
 Hect. Nay, I have done already. 
 
 Achil. Thou art too brief;" I will the secon^i time, 
 As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. 
 
 Hect. 0, like a book of sport thou'lt read meoVr; 
 But there's more in me than thou undcrstand'st. 
 Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? 
 
 Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of 
 his body 
 Shall I destroy liim? whetherthere, there, or there? 
 That I may give the local wound a name ; 
 And make distinct the very breach whereout 
 Hector's great spirit llew : Answer me, heavens ! 
 
 Hect. It would discredit the biess'd gods, proud 
 man. 
 To answer such a question : Stand again: 
 Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly, 
 As to prenominatc- in nice conjecture, 
 Where thou wilt hit mc dead ? 
 
 Achil. I tell thee, yea. 
 
 Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, 
 I'd not believe thee. Hencelorth guard thee well, 
 For ril not kill thee tiu're, nor there, nor there; 
 But, by the forge that stithicd^ Mars his helm, 
 I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er — 
 You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag, 
 His insolence draws folly from my lips; 
 But I'll endeavor deeds to matcli tliesc words, 
 Or may I never — ~ 
 
 9 Laomt'don. 
 « Fortinjime. 
 
 I Observed. 
 
 > Stitliv, is a smith' 
 
 shop. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 521 
 
 AJax. Do not chafe thee, cousin ; — 
 
 And yon, Achilles, let these threats alone, 
 Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't; 
 You may have every day enough of Hector, 
 If you have stomach ; the general state, I fear, 
 Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. 
 
 Hect. I pray yon, let us see you in the field ; 
 We have had pelting wars, since you rcfus'd 
 The Grecians' cause. 
 
 Achil. Dost thou entreat me. Hector ^ 
 
 To-morrow, do I meet thee, fell as death : 
 To-night, all friends. 
 
 Hect. Thy hand upon that match. 
 
 Asum. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my 
 tent ; 
 There in the full convive* we: afterwards. 
 As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall 
 Concur together, severally entreat him. — 
 Beat loud the tambourines,' let the trumpets blow, 
 That this great soldier may his welcome know. 
 
 {Exeunt alL bid Tkoilus and Ulysses. 
 
 Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, 
 In wliat place of the field doth Calchas keep? 
 
 Vhjss. At Menelaiis' tent, most princely Troilus: 
 There Diomed doth feast with him to-night ; 
 Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth. 
 But gives all gaze ana bent of amorous view 
 On the fair Cressid. 
 
 Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so 
 much. 
 After we part from Agamemnon's tent, 
 To bring me thither ? 
 
 Ulij.ss. You shall command me, sir. 
 
 As gentle tell me, of what honor was 
 This Cressida in Troy ? Had .she no lover there 
 That wails her absence ] 
 
 Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting show their 
 scars 
 A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? 
 She was belov'd, she lov'd ; she is, and doth : 
 But, still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' 
 Tent. 
 
 Enter Achilles and P.^troclcs. 
 
 Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine 
 to-night. 
 Which with iny scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. — 
 Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. 
 
 Pafr. Here comes Thersites. 
 
 Enter Thersites. 
 
 Acfiit. How now, thou core of envy ? 
 
 rhoH crusty batch of nature, what's the news? 
 
 Ttier. Why, thou picture of what thou seernest, 
 and idol of irliot-worshippers.here's a letter lor thee. 
 
 AckU. From whence, fragment ? 
 
 Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. 
 
 Pafr. Who keeps the tent now ? 
 
 Tlier. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. 
 
 Pair. Well said. Adversity !« and what need 
 these tricks ? 
 
 Tfier. Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by 
 thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male 
 variet. 
 
 Patr. Male variet, you rogue? what's that? 
 
 T/ier. Why. his masculine whore. Now the rot- 
 ten disca. esoi the siiuth.tiie guts-griping, ruptures, 
 catarrlis, loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold 
 palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers. wheczinglungs, 
 bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas. lime-kilns i 
 the palm, incurable bone-ache, and therivelled fee- 
 simple of the tetter, take and take again such pre- 
 posterous discoveries! 
 
 Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, 
 what meanest thou to curse thus? 
 
 Tlier. Do I curse thee ? 
 
 Pair. Why, no, you ruinous butt ; you whoreson 
 indistinguishable cur, no. 
 
 Ttier. No ? why art thou exasperate, thou idle 
 immaterial skein of sicive' silk, thou green sarcenet 
 flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, 
 thou ? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with 
 such water-tlies; diminutives of nature! 
 
 Pafr. Out. gall ! 
 
 Titer. Finch-egg! 
 
 Achil. Sly sweet Patroclus. I am thwarted quite 
 From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. 
 Here is a letter from queen Hecuba; 
 A token from her daughter, my fair love; 
 Both taxing me, and gaging mc to keep 
 An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it: 
 Fall, Greeks; fail, fame; honor, or go, or stay, 
 
 My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. 
 
 Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent; 
 This night in banqueting must all be spent. 
 Away, Patroclus. 
 
 [Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 
 
 Ther. With too much blood and too little brain, 
 these two may run mad; but if with too much 
 brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer 
 
 • Feast. 
 
 t Contrariety. 
 
 » Small drums. 
 
 1 Coarse, unwrought. 
 
 of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, — an honest 
 fellow enough, and one that loves quails ;*■ but he 
 has not so much brain as ear-wax: And the goodly 
 translbrmalion of Jupiter there, his brother.the bull, 
 — the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of 
 cuckolds ;9 a thrifty shocing-horn in a chain, hang- 
 ing at his brother's leg. — to what Ibrm. but that he 
 is,shouM wit larded with malice, and malice forced' 
 with wit. turn him to ? To an ass, were nothing : 
 he is both ass and ox : to an ox, were nothing ; he 
 is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a 
 fitchew,^ a load, a lizard, an awl, a puttock, or a 
 herring without a roc, I would not care : but to be 
 Menelaus. — I would conspire against destiny. Ask 
 me not what I would he, if I were not Thersites; 
 lor I care not to be the louse of a lazar,3 so I were 
 not Menelaus.— Hey-day ! spirits and tires ! 
 
 Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, 
 
 Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, anrf Diomed, iriM 
 
 Lights. 
 
 Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong. 
 
 jljax. No, yonder tis; 
 
 There, where we see the lights. 
 
 Jlfct. I trouble you. 
 
 Ajax. No, not a whit. 
 
 Utyss. Here comes himself to guide you. 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 Achil. Welcome, brave Hector: welcome, princes 
 
 all! 
 Agam. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good- 
 night. 
 Ajax commands Ihe guard to tend on you. 
 Jiect. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' 
 
 general. 
 Men. Good night, my lord. 
 Jlect. Good night, sweet Menelaus. 
 
 Tter. Sweet draught :* Sweet, quoth 'a! sweet 
 sink, sweet sewer. 
 
 Achil. Good night. 
 And welcome, both to those that go or tarry. 
 Agam. Good night. 
 
 [Exeunt Agamemnon and Menblaus. 
 Achil. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomcd, 
 Keep Hector company an hour or two. 
 
 Dio. I cannot, lord ; I have important business. 
 The tide whereof is now.— Good night, great 
 Hector. 
 Heel. Give me your hand. 
 Utyss. Follow his torch, he goes 
 
 To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company. 
 
 [Asvie to Troilus. 
 Tro. Sweet sir, you honor me. 
 Hect. And so good night. 
 
 [Exit Diomed ; Ulysses and Troilus 
 fulloiving. 
 Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. 
 
 [Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and 
 Nestor. 
 
 8 Harlots. 
 » Polecat. 
 
 ■ Menelaus. 
 
 > A diseased beg; 
 
 • Stuffed. 
 
 * Trivy. 
 
522 
 
 TEOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Tker. That same Diomed'saliilsc-heartedrogue, 
 a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him 
 when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses: 
 he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Urabler 
 the honnd; but when he peiibrms, astronomers 
 foretell it: it is prodigious,^ there will eonie some 
 change; the sun borrows of the moon, when 
 Diomed keeps ins word. I will rather leave to sec 
 Hector, than not to dog him : they say, he keeps a 
 Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: 
 I'll after. — Nothing but lechery! all incontinent 
 varlets ! \^Exit. 
 
 SCENE U.—Befin-e Calchas' Tent. 
 Enter Diomedks. 
 Dio. What, are you up here, ho? speak. 
 CuL [Within.] Who calls ! 
 
 I)io. Diomed. — Calchas, I think.— Where's your 
 daughter! 
 Cal. ^^Within.'] She comes to you. 
 
 Enter TrmiLus and Ulysses, at a dhftmce ; after 
 them Thersites. 
 
 Ulyss. Stand where the torch maynotdiscoverus. 
 Enter Cressida. 
 
 Tro. Cressid, come Ibrth to him ! 
 
 Dw. How now. my charge ? 
 
 Cres. Now, my sweet guardian ! — Hark ! a word 
 witli you. [fVhispers. 
 
 Tro. Yea, so familiar! 
 
 Uiys.t. She will sing any man at first sight. 
 
 Ther. And any man may sing her, if lie can take 
 her clitr;'J she's noted. 
 
 Di/j. Will you remember 1 
 
 Cres. Remember 1 yes. 
 
 Dio. Nay, but do then ; 
 
 And let your mind be coupled with your words. 
 
 Tru. What should she remember ] 
 
 U/yss, List! 
 
 Cj'Cs. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to 
 t>lly. 
 
 Ther. Roguery ! 
 
 Bio. Nay, tlicn,— 
 
 Cres. I'll tell you what : 
 
 Dio. Pho, pho! come, tell a pin: You are for- 
 sworn. — 
 
 Cres, In faith, I cannot: What would you have 
 me do ] 
 
 Tker. A juggling trick, to be — secretly open. 
 
 Dio. What did you swear you would bestow on 
 me 1 
 
 Cres. I pr'ythee, do nol hold me to mine oath ; 
 Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. 
 
 Dio. Good night. 
 
 Tro. Hold, patience ! 
 
 Ulifss. How now, Trojan 1 
 
 Cres. Diomed, 
 
 Dio. No, no, good night: Til be your fool no more. 
 
 Tro. Thy better must. 
 
 Cres. Hark! one word in your ear. 
 
 Tro. plague and madness I 
 
 Uli/ss. You are mov'd, prince ; let us depart, I 
 pray you, 
 Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself 
 To wralhfid terms: this jilace is dangerous; 
 The time right deadly ; I beseech you, go. 
 
 Tro. Behold, I pray you ! 
 
 Ufyss. Now, good my lord, go off: 
 
 You How to great destruction: come, my lord. 
 
 Tro. I pr'ythee, stay. 
 
 Uli/ss. You have not patience, come. 
 
 Tro. 1 pray you, stay ; by iiell, and ail heli's 
 torments, 
 I win not speak a word. 
 
 Dio. And so, good night. 
 
 Cres. Nay, but you part in anger. 
 
 Tro. Doth that grieve thee 1 
 
 wither'd truth ! 
 
 U/i/ss. Why, Iiow now, lord ? 
 
 Tro. By Jove, 
 
 1 will be patient. 
 
 Cres. Guardian !— why, Greek! 
 
 Dio. Pho. pho! adieu; you palter.^ 
 Cres. In faitli, 1 do not; come hither once again. 
 Ulyss. Vou stisikc, my lord, at something; will 
 you go I 
 Vou will break out. 
 Tro. She strokes his cheek ! 
 
 ■ Tortentous, ominous. s Key. i Shuffle. 
 
 Ulyss. Come, come. 
 
 Tro. Nay, stay ; by Jove, I will not F.peak a word: 
 There is between my will and all oti'enccs 
 A guard of patience :— stay a little while. 
 
 Ther. How the devil hixury, with his fat rump 
 and potatoe hnger tickles tlicse together ! Fry, 
 lechery, fry ! 
 
 Dio. But will you th.m 7 
 
 Cres. In faith, I will, la ; never trust me else. 
 
 Dio. Give me some token for the surety of it. 
 
 Cres. I'll fetch you one. [Exit. 
 
 Ulyss. You liave sworn patience. 
 
 Tro. Fear me not. my lord ; 
 I will not be myself, nor have cognition^ 
 Of what I feel ; I am all patience. 
 
 Re-enter Cressida. 
 
 Ther. Now the pledge; now, now, now ! 
 
 Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve. 
 
 Tro. O beauty! wlicre's thy faith? 
 
 Ulyss. My lord, 
 
 Tro. I will be patient; outwardly I will. 
 
 Cres. You look upon that sleeve; Behold itwell.— 
 He lov'd me— O ftilse wench ! — Give't me again. 
 
 Dio. Who was'tl 
 
 C?'es. No matter, now I have't again. 
 
 I will not meet with you to-morrow nigJit: 
 I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more. 
 
 Ther. Now she sharpens ;— Well said, whet- 
 stone. 
 
 Dio. I shall have it. 
 
 Cres. What, this? 
 
 Dio. Ay, that. 
 
 Cres. 0. all you gods ! — pretty, pretty pledge ! 
 Thy master now lies thinking in his bed 
 Of thee and me; and sighs, and takes my glove, 
 And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, 
 As I kiss thee. — Nay, do not snatch it Irom me; 
 He that takes that, must take my heart withal. 
 
 Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it. 
 
 Tro. I did swear patience. 
 
 Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed; 'faith you 
 shall not; 
 I'll ^ive j'ou something else. 
 
 Dio. I will have this; Whose was it? 
 
 Cres. 'Tis no matter. 
 
 Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. 
 
 Cres, 'Twas one's that loved me better than 
 you will. 
 But, now you have i.t, take it. 
 
 Dio. Whose was it? 
 
 Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder,^ 
 And by herself, I will not ttdl you whose. 
 
 Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm; 
 And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. 
 
 Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st iton tliyhorn, 
 It should be challenged. 
 
 C7-es. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past;— And yet 
 it is not; 
 I will not keep my word. 
 
 Din. Why then, farewell ; 
 
 Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. 
 
 Cres. You shall not go : — One cannot speak a 
 word, 
 But it straight starts you. 
 
 Dio. I do not like this fooling. 
 
 Ther. Nor I. by Pluto; but that that likes not 
 you, pleases me best. 
 
 Dirj. What, shall I come? the hour? 
 
 Cres. Ay, come : — O Jove ! — 
 
 Do come : — I shall be plagued. 
 
 Dio. FareVell till then. 
 
 Cres. Good night. I pr'ythce, come.— 
 
 {EdHi DiOMEDEa. 
 
 Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ; 
 But with my heart the other eye doth see. 
 Ah ! poor our sex ! this lault in us I find, 
 The error of our eye directs our mind : 
 What error leads, must err ; O then conclude, 
 Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude. 
 
 [Exit Cressida. 
 
 Ther. A proof of strength she could not publish 
 more. 
 Unless she said, My mind is now turn'd whore. 
 
 Uh/ss. All's done, my lord. 
 
 Tro. It is. 
 
 Uli/ss. Why stay we then'' 
 
 Tro. To make a recordation' to iny soul 
 Of every syllabic that here was spoke. 
 
 8 Knowledge. » S^tars. * Ilemembrance. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 523 
 
 But, if I tell how these two did co-act, 
 Shall I not lie in publishing a truth .' 
 bill! yet there is a credence in my heart. 
 All esperance so obstinately strong, 
 That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ; 
 As if those organs had deceptious functions, 
 Created only to calumniate. 
 Was Cressid here ! 
 
 Uli/ss. I cannot conjure, Trojan. 
 
 Tra. She was not, sure. 
 
 I'ti/ss. Most sure she was. 
 
 Tru. Why, my negation halh no taste of madness. 
 
 Uli/ss. Nor mine, my lord : Cressid was iiere but 
 now. 
 
 Tro. L > it not be believ'd for^ womanhood ! 
 Tfiiiik, we had mothers; do not give advantage 
 To stubborn critics^ — apt, without a theme. 
 For depravation. — to square the general sex 
 By Crcssid's rule : rather think this not Cressid. 
 
 Uli/iis- Wiiat hath she done, prince, that can soil 
 our mothers ] 
 
 Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she. 
 
 Ther, Will he swagger himself on ton's own eyes. 
 
 Tro. This she ? no, this is Diomed's Cressida ; 
 If beauty have a soul, this is not she; 
 If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony, 
 If sanctimony be the gods' deliglit, 
 If there be rule in unity itself. 
 This was not she. O madness of discourse, 
 That cause sets up with and against itself! 
 Bi-Ibld authority! where reason can revolt 
 Without perdition, and loss assume all reason 
 Without revolt; this is. and is not, Cressid ! 
 Within my soul there doth commence a tight 
 Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate 
 Divides more wider than«lie sky and earth; 
 And yet the spacious breadth of tfiis division 
 Admits no orilice for a point, as subtle 
 As is Arachne's broken woof, to enter. 
 Instance, O instance ! strong as Pluto's gates; 
 Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven: 
 Instance, O instance ! strong as heaven ifself; 
 Thebondsofheavenareslipp'd,dissolv'd,andloos'd; 
 And with another knot, live-flnger-tied. 
 The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, 
 The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy relics 
 Of her o'er-eaten liiith are bound to Diomed. 
 
 U/yss. May worthy Troilus be half attacb'd 
 With that which here his passion doth express? 
 
 2'ro. Ay, (ircek ; and that shall be divulged well 
 In characters as red as Mars his heart 
 Inllam'd with Venus : never did young man fancy< 
 With so eternal and so tix'd a soul. 
 Hark, Greek ;— As much as I do Cressid love. 
 So much by weight hate I her Diomed : 
 That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm ; 
 Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill. 
 My sword sliould bile it: not the dreadful spout, 
 Which shipmen do the hurricano call, 
 ConstringedJ in mass by the almighty sun, 
 Shall dizzy with more clamor Neptune's ear 
 In bis aetcent, than shall my prompted sword 
 Falling on Diomed. 
 
 The): He'll tickle it for his concupy.6 
 
 Tru. O Cressid! lalse Cressid! false, false, false! 
 Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, 
 And they'll seem glorious. 
 
 Vlyw. 0, contain yourself; 
 
 Your passion draws ears hither. 
 
 Enter iExEAS. 
 
 vE»e. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: 
 Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; 
 Ajax. your guard "lays to conduct you home. 
 
 Tro. Have witn you, prince:— My courteous 
 lord, adieu: 
 Farewell, revolted fair !— and, Diomed, 
 Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head ! 
 
 Uly^s. I'll bring you to the gates. 
 
 Trc Accept distracted thanks. 
 
 , [Exeunt Thoilus, ^Exeas, and Ulysses. 
 
 7 to-. Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed! 
 I would croak like a raven ; 1 would bode, I would 
 bode. Patroclus will give me any thing lor the in- 
 telligence of tills whore: the parrot will not do 
 more for an almond, than he tor a commodious 
 drab. Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; 
 
 » For the sate of. a Cynics. 4 Love. 
 
 • Compressed. * Concupiscence. 
 
 nothing else holds fashion: A burning devil take 
 them! [Ejcit. 
 
 SCENE III.— Troy. Befure Priam's Palace. 
 
 Enter Hectou and Andromache. 
 And. When was my lord so much ungently 
 temper'd. 
 To stop his ears against admonishment \ 
 Unarm, unarm, and do not tight to-day. 
 
 ilect. You train me to otJ'erid you : get you in : 
 By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. 
 Awl. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the 
 
 day. 
 Ued. No more, I say. 
 
 Enter Cassandra. 
 
 Cn.s. Where is my brother Hector 1 
 
 And. Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent : 
 Consort with me in loud and dear petition, 
 Pursue we him on knees; lor I have dream'd 
 Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night 
 Hath nothing been butshapesandformsof slaughter. 
 
 Cas. 0, it IS true. 
 
 litct. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound ! 
 
 Cus. No notes of sally, for tlie heavens, sweet 
 brother. 
 
 Hcd. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me 
 swear. 
 
 Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish' vows ; 
 They are polluted oBcrings, more abhorr'd 
 Than spotted livers in the .sacrifice. 
 
 And. : be persuaded : Do not count it holy 
 To liurt by being just: it is as lawlul. 
 For we would give much, to use violent thefts, 
 And rob in the behalf of charity. 
 
 Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow ; 
 But vows to every purpose must not hold : 
 Unarm, sweet Hector. 
 
 Hed. Hold you still, I say ; 
 
 Mine honor keeps the weather of my liite : 
 Lite every man holds dear; but the dear man 
 Holds honor far more precious dear than life, — 
 
 Enter Troilcs. 
 How now, young man, mean'st thou to fight to-day ? 
 
 And. Cassandra, call in}- father to persuade. 
 
 [Exit Cassandra. 
 
 Hed. No, faith, young Troilus; doU'^ thy har- 
 ness, youth. 
 I am to-day i'the vein of chivalry: 
 Let grow t'hy sinews till their knots be strong, 
 And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. 
 Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy, 
 I'll stand, to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy. 
 
 Tro. Brother, jou have a vice of mercy in you 
 Which better fits a lion, than a man. 
 
 Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me 
 for it. 
 
 Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall, 
 Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword. 
 You bid them rise and live. 
 
 Hed. O, 'tis liiir play. 
 
 Tro. i-'ool's play, by heaven, Hector. 
 
 Hect. How now ? how now ! 
 
 Trii. For the love of all the gods. 
 
 Let's leave the hermit pity with our niuther; 
 And when we have our armors buckled on. 
 The vcnom'd vengeance ride upon our swords; 
 Spur them to ruthfuli' work, rein them from ruth.' 
 
 Hect. Fye, savage, fye ! 
 
 Tro. Hector, then 'tis wars. 
 
 Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. 
 
 Tro. Who should withhold me ! 
 Not fate, obedience, nor tlie hand of Mars 
 Beckoning with tiery truncheon my retire; 
 Not Priamusaiid Hecuba on knees. 
 Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears; 
 Nor you, iny brottier, with your true sword drawn, 
 Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way, 
 But by my ruin. 
 
 Re-enter Cassandra, wUh, Priam. 
 Cas. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him last: 
 He IS thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay. 
 Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, 
 Fall all together. 
 
 I'ri. Come, Hector, come, go back : 
 
 Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had visions; 
 Cassandra doth foresee, and I myself 
 'foolish. sputoS • Itueful, woful. 'Mercy 
 
524 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt, 
 To tell thee — that this day is ominous, 
 Therefore, come back. 
 
 Hed. jRnea.^ is a-ficld ; 
 
 And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, 
 Even in the laith of valor, to appear 
 This morning to them. 
 
 Prl. But thou Shalt not go. 
 
 Hect. I must not break my faith. 
 You know me dutiful ; therefore, dear sir, 
 Let me not shame respect; but give me leave 
 To taivc that course by j'our consent and voice, 
 Wliich 30U do here forbid me, royal Priam. 
 
 Cas. Priam, yield not to him. 
 
 Anil. Do not, dear father. 
 
 Hect. Andromache, I am offended with j'ou : 
 Upon the love you bear me, get you in. 
 
 [Exit Androm.hche. 
 
 Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl. 
 Makes all these bodements. 
 
 Cas. farewell, dear Hector. 
 
 Look, how thou dicst ! look, how thy eye turns pale! 
 Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents ! 
 Hark, l]ow Tro}^ roars ! how Hecuba cries out ! 
 How poor Andromache shrills her dolors forth ! 
 Behold, destruction, frenzy, and amazement, 
 Like witless antics, one another meet, 
 And all cry — Hector ! Hector's dead ! Hector. 
 
 Tru. Away ! — Away ! 
 
 Cus. Farewell. Yet soft:— Hector, I take my 
 leave ; 
 Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit. 
 
 Hect. You are aniaz'd. my liege, at her exclaim ; 
 Go in. and clieer the town: we'll forth and tight : 
 Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night. 
 
 Pri. Farewell : the gods with safety stand about 
 thee! 
 
 [Exeunt severally Phiam and Hector. 
 Alarums. 
 
 Tro. Theyareal it; hark! Proud Dionied,believe. 
 I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. 
 
 As TuoiLus is going out, enter. from tlie other side, 
 Pa.ndarus. 
 
 Ptin. Do you hear, my lord ? do you hear ? 
 
 Tro. What now I 
 
 Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl. 
 
 Tro. Let me read. 
 
 Pan. A whoreson phthisic, a whoreson rascally 
 phthisic so troubles ine, and the foolish fortune of 
 this girl ; and what one thing, %vhat another, that I 
 shall leave you one o' these days: And I have a 
 rheum in mine eyes too; and such an ache in my 
 bones, that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell 
 what io think on't.— Wliat says she there ! 
 
 Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter from 
 tiie heart ; [Tearing the Letter. 
 
 The effect doth operate another way. — 
 Go. wind, to wind, there turn and change together. 
 My love with words and errors still she feeds; 
 But edifies another with her deeds. 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE IW— Between Troy and the Grecian 
 Camp, 
 Alarums: Excursions. Enter Thersites. 
 Ther. Nowthey are clapper-clawingone another; 
 I'll go look on. 'Thai dissembling abominable var- 
 let. Diomed, hasgot that same scurvy, doting, fool- 
 ish young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm: 
 1 would lain see them meet; that that same young 
 Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send 
 that Greekish whoremaster villain with the sleeve, 
 back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeve- 
 less errand. O' the other side. The policy of those 
 cratlyswearingrascals,— that staleold mouse-eaten 
 dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox Ulysses, 
 —is not proved worth a blackberry :— They set 
 me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against 
 that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles: and now is the 
 cur Ajat prouder than the cur Achilles, and will 
 not arm to-day: Whereupon the Grecians begin to 
 proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill 
 opinion. Soft ! here come sleeve, and t'other. 
 
 Enter Diomedes, Troilcs y«Wo«'i;)5-. 
 Tro. Fly not; for, shouldst thou lake the river 
 Styx, 
 I would swim afler. 
 
 Dio. Thou dost miscall retire : 
 
 I do not fly ; but advantageous care 
 Withdrew me from the odds of multitude : 
 Have at thee ! 
 
 Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian !— now for thy 
 
 whore, Trojan ! — now the sleeve, now the sleeve ! 
 
 [Exeunt TnoiLvs and Dwuedes, fighting. 
 
 Enter Hector. 
 
 Hect. What art thou, Greek ! art thou for Hec- 
 tor's match ] 
 Art thou of blood, and honor 1 
 
 Ther. No, no, — I am a rascal ; a scurvy railing 
 knave ; a very tilthy rogue. 
 
 Hect. I do believe thee ;— live. * [Exit. 
 
 Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; 
 But a plague break thy neck, for fi-ighting me! 
 What's become of the wenching rogues ? I think, 
 they have swallowed one another: I would laugh 
 at that miracle. Y'et, in a sort, lechery eat.s itself. 
 I'll seek them. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V.-The Same. 
 Enter Diomedes a?id a Servant. 
 Din. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse: 
 Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid : 
 Fellow, commend my service to her beauty ; 
 Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan, 
 And am her knight by proof. 
 iierv. 1 go, my lord. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Enter Agamemnox. 
 Agnm. Renew, renew ! The tierce Polydamus 
 Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margai'elon 
 Hath Doreus prisoner; 
 
 And st,ands colossus-wise, waving his beani,2 
 Upon the pashed^ corses of the kings 
 Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is slain; 
 Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt; 
 Patroclus ta'en or slain ; and Paliimedes 
 Sore hurt and bruis'd : the dreadful Sagittary 
 .\ppals our numbers; haste we, Diomed, 
 To reinforcement, or we perish all. 
 
 Enter Nestor. 
 Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles: 
 And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame. — 
 There is a thousand Hectors in the tield ; 
 Now here he tights on Galathe his horse. 
 And there lacks work ; anon, he's there afoot. 
 And there they tly, or die, like scaled sculls^ 
 Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder. 
 And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for liis edge. 
 Fall down before him like the mower's swath : 
 Here, there, and every w here, he leaves and takes ; 
 Dexterity so obeying appetite. 
 That what he will, he does; and does so much. 
 That proof is call'd impossibility. 
 
 Enter Ulysses. 
 Ulyss. 0, courage,courage. princes! grcatAchilles 
 Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance : 
 Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his tlrowsy blood. 
 Together with his mangled Alyrmidons, 
 That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come 
 
 to him. 
 Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend. 
 And loams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it. 
 Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day 
 Mad and fantastic execution ; 
 Kiigaging and redeeming of himself. 
 With such a careless force, and Ibrceless care, 
 As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, 
 Bade him win all. 
 
 Enter Ajax. 
 ^ijax. Troilus ! thou coward Troilus ! [E.ru 
 Din. Ay, there, ther» 
 
 Kest. So, so, we draw together. 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 Achil. Where is this Hector ! 
 
 Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face : 
 Know what it is to niect Achilles angry. 
 Hector! Where's Hector 1 I will none but Hector. 
 
 * Lance. 
 
 • Shoal of fish. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 » BruiSL'd, crushed. 
 
Scene XI. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 525 
 
 SCENE \l.—Aiwther Part of the Field. 
 Enter AJAX. 
 AJax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy 
 head ! 
 
 Enter Diomeoes. 
 Did. Troilus, 1 say! Where's Troilus 1 
 AJuj:. What wouldst thou ! 
 
 Liu. I would correct him. 
 Ajcu:. Were I the general, thou shouldst have 
 my office, 
 Ere tliat correction .'—Troilus, I say ! what,Troilus ! 
 Enter Tkoilus. 
 Tro. traitor Diomcd ! — turn thy false face, 
 tiiou traitor, 
 And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse ! 
 Dio. Ha ! art thou there ! 
 
 JJax. I'll liKht with him alone: stand, Diomed. 
 Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon. 
 Tro. Come both, you cogguis^ Greeks ; have at 
 you both. [Exeunt, Jigkting. 
 
 Enter Hector. 
 
 Hect. Yea, Troilus 1 0, well fought, my youngest 
 brother ! 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 Achil. Now do I see thee: Ha!— Have at thee. 
 
 Hector. 
 Hect. Pause, if thou wilt. 
 
 Achit. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. 
 Be happy that my arms are out of use : 
 My rest and negligence befriend thee now. 
 But tliou anon shalt hear of me again ; 
 Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit. 
 
 Hect. Fare thee well:— 
 
 I would have been much more a Ireslier man. 
 Had I expected tliee. — How now, my brotlier! 
 Re-enter Troilus. 
 Tro. Ajax hath taken jT^ne.as; Shall it be? 
 No. by the llame of yonder glorious heaven, 
 He shall not carry* him ; I'll be taken too. 
 Or bring him off: — Fate, hear me what I say ! 
 I reck' not tliough I end my life to-day [Exit. 
 
 Enter one in sumptuous .irmor. 
 
 Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek! tliou art a goodly 
 mark ; — 
 No 1 wilt thou not !— I hke thy armor well ; 
 I'll frusli'' it, and unlock the rivets all, 
 But I'll be master of it:— Wilt thou not, beast, 
 
 abide ] 
 Why, then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \-U.—T!iesame. 
 Enter Achilles, icUh. Myrmidons. 
 ActiiL Cotne here about me, youmyMyrmidons; 
 Mark what I say. — Attend me where I wheel: 
 Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath ; 
 And when I have the bloody Hector found. 
 Empale him with your weapons round about; 
 In li?Uest manner e.vecute your arms. 
 Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye: 
 It is decreed — Hector the great must die. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE WU.—Ttu: same. 
 Enter Meselaus and Paris, figlitins ■• tlien 
 
 TUERSITES. 
 
 Tlier. The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are 
 at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! 
 now my double-hcnned sparrow ! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo ! 
 The bull has tiie game : — 'ware horns, ho ! 
 
 [Exeunt Paris ami Mexelacs. 
 Enter Margakelon'. 
 
 Mar. Turn, slave, and fight. 
 
 Tlier. What art thou ^ 
 
 Mar. A bastard son of Priam's. 
 
 Titer. I am a bastard too ; I love bastards : I am 
 a bastard begot, bastard instructed,b.astard inmind, 
 bastard in valor, in every thing illegitimate. One 
 bear will not bite another, and wherefore should 
 one bastard ! Take heed, the quarrel's most omi- 
 nous to us ; if the son of a whore tight for awhore, 
 he tempts judgment: Farewell, bastard. 
 
 Mar. The devil take tliee, coward ! [Exeunt. 
 
 ' Lying. » Provail over. i Cue. • Burst. 
 
 SCENE lis..— A7iot tier Part oftlie Field 
 Enter Hector. 
 Hect. Most putrefied core, so I'air without, 
 Thy goodly armor thus hath cost thy life. 
 Now is my day's work done ; I'll take good breath: 
 Rest, sword ; thou hast thy till of blood and death ! 
 [Puts off tiis tielinet, and hangs his shield 
 behind him. 
 
 Enter Achilles and Myrmidons. 
 Achit. Look. Hector, how the sun begins to set ; 
 How ugly night comes breathing at his heels : 
 Even with the vail and daik'ning of the sun, 
 To close the day up. Hector's lite is done. 
 Hect. I am unarm'd; Ibrego this vantage, Greek. 
 Achit. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man 
 I seek. [Hector ^ii/is. 
 
 So Ilion, fall thou next ! now, Troy, sink down ; 
 Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, arid thy bone. — 
 On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, 
 Achilles hath the /nighty Hector sictin .' 
 
 [-4 Retreat sounded. 
 Hark ! a retreat upon our Grecian part. 
 Mi/r. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my 
 
 lord. 
 Achil. The dragon-wing of night o'erspreads 
 the earth. 
 And, stickler'^ like, the armies separate. 
 My half-supp'd sword, tliat tVankly' would have fed, 
 Piea^i'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed.— 
 
 [ Sheathes his sword. 
 Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ; 
 Along the held I will the Trojan trail. [Exeu7it. 
 
 SCENE X.— The same. 
 Enter Agamemnon, Aja-x, Menelaus, Nestor, 
 DioMEDES, and otiiers, marching. Hhuuta 
 within. 
 
 Again. Hark ! hark ! what shout is that 1 
 
 Af.v/. Peace, drums. 
 
 [intliin.] Achilles! 
 
 Achilles! Hector s slain ! Achilles! 
 
 Dio. The hruit^ is— Hector's slain, and by 
 Achilles. 
 
 AJax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be ; 
 Great Hector was as good a man as he. 
 
 Agam. March ]iaticiitly aloikg:- let one be sent 
 To pray .\cliilles see us at our tent. — 
 If in his deatii the gods have us befriended. 
 Great Troy is ours, and our .sharp wars are ended. 
 [Exeunt, marching. 
 SCENE XL— Another Part of the Field. 
 Enter jEneas and Trojans. 
 
 .Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: 
 Never go home; here starve we out the night. 
 Enter Troilcs. 
 
 Tro. Hector is slain. 
 
 Alt. ^ Hector?— The gods forbid. 
 
 Tro. He s dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail. 
 In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful 
 
 field.— 
 Frown on, you heavens, eflfect your rage with speed ! 
 Sit. gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy ? 
 I sav, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, 
 And linger not our sure destruction on ! 
 
 .Ene. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. 
 
 Tro. You understand me nol, that tell me so: 
 I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ; 
 But dare all imminence, that gods and men 
 .\ddress their dangers in. Hector is gone ! 
 Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba ? 
 Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, 
 Go in to Troy, and say there— Hector's dead: 
 There is a word will i'riam turn to stone; 
 Make wells and Niobcs of the maids and wives, 
 Cold statues oftlie youth; and, in a word. 
 Scare Troy out of itself But, march, away; 
 Hector is dead ; there is no more to say. 
 Stay yet;— You vile abominable tents. 
 Thus proudly pight= upon our Phrygian plains. 
 Let Titan rise as early as he dare, 
 I'll through and through you .'—And thou, great 
 
 siz d coward ! 
 No space of earth shall sunder our two hates: 
 
 » An arbitrator at athletic games. ' Fattening. 
 " Ko'se, rumor. s pitcbod, fixed. 
 
526 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still. 
 That nioLildeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts. — 
 Strike a tree march to Troy !— with comfort go : 
 Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. 
 
 [Exeunt jExeas and Trojans. 
 
 As TuoiLus is going out, enter, from the ot/ier 
 side, Pandari's. 
 Pan. But hear you, hear you ! 
 Tro. Hence, broker lackey ! ignomy'andshame 
 Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name ! 
 
 [Exit Troilus. 
 Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones ! — 
 O world! world! world! thus is tile poor agent 
 despised ! traitors and bawds- how earnestly are 
 you set a'worli.and how ill requited I Why should 
 our endeavor be so loved, and Ihe performance so 
 loathed 7 what verse for it 7 what instance for it ?— 
 Let me see : — 
 
 * Ignominy. 
 
 Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing. 
 Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting: 
 And being once subdued in armed tail, 
 Sweet honey and sweet notes together ftiil. — 
 Good traders in the llesh, set this in your painted 
 cloths.5 
 
 As many as be here of panders' hall. 
 Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall: 
 Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, 
 Though not tor me, yet for your aching hones. 
 Brctliren and sisters, of the hold-door trade, 
 Some two months hence my will shall here be made: 
 It should be now, but that my fear is this, — 
 Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss : 
 Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases; 
 And, at that time, bequeath you ray diseases. 
 
 [ExU. 
 * Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with emblenu 
 and mottoes. 
 
TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 TiMON, a noble Athenian. 
 
 Lucii's, "I 
 
 LucuLLCs, > Lords, and Flatterers o/'Timon. 
 
 SEMPROSI0S, J 
 
 Ventidius, one nfTimon'sfalse Friends. 
 
 Apemanti's, a churlis/i Ptulosopher. 
 
 Alcibiades, an Athenian General. 
 
 Flavu'S, Steward to Tinion. 
 
 Flaminr-s, 
 
 LuciLius, [•Timon'.s Servants. 
 
 Servilius, 
 
 Caphis, 
 
 Philotus, 
 
 Titus, 
 
 Lucius, 
 
 horte.ssics, 
 
 > Servants iu Timon's Creditors. 
 
 Tirn Serr'aiitfi of Varro. 
 
 Tfie Scrr/trit f^' Isidore. 
 
 Tico (i/Tniion's Creditors. 
 
 Cupid awl Maskers. 
 
 Three Strangers. 
 
 Poet. 
 
 Painter. 
 
 Jeweller. 
 
 Mercliant. 
 
 An old Athenian. 
 
 A Page. A Foul. 
 
 Phkyma, 
 
 TiMANDRA, 
 
 Mistresses to Alcibiades. 
 
 Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thietei, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, Athens, and the Woods a<{joining 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Athens. A Uiill in Timon's House. 
 
 Enter Poet, Painter. Jeweller, Mercliant, and 
 others., at several duors. 
 
 Poet. Good-day, sir. 
 
 Pain. I am glad you are well. 
 
 Pott. I have not seen you long ; How goes the 
 world 1 
 
 Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. 
 
 Poet. Ay, that's well known : 
 
 But what particular rarity? what strange. 
 Which manifold record not matches 1 See, 
 Magic of bounty ! All these spirits thy power 
 Halh conjiir'd to attend. I know the merchant. 
 
 Pain. I know them both ; t'other's a jeweller. 
 
 Mer. 0, 'tis a worthy lord ! 
 
 Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. 
 
 Mer. A most incomparable "man; breath'd,' as 
 it were. 
 To an untirable and contin iate2 goodness : 
 He passes.3 
 
 Je}v. I have a jewel here. 
 
 Mer. O, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir? 
 
 Jew. If he w'ill touch the estimate ; But, for that — 
 
 Poet, When we for recompense have prais'd the 
 vUe, 
 It stains the glory in that happy verse 
 Which aptly sings the good. 
 
 Mtr. 'Tis a good form, 
 
 [Looking at th^ Jewel. 
 
 Jew. And rich: here is a water, look you. 
 
 Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some de- 
 dication 
 To the great lord. 
 
 Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. 
 
 Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 
 From whence 'tis nourished : the tire i' the flint 
 Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame 
 
 » Inured by constant practice. * Continual. 
 
 3 i.e. Kxceedfl, goes beyond common boxmds. 
 
 Provokes itHclf, and, like the current, flies 
 Each bound it chafes. What have you there ? 
 
 Pain. A picture, sir. — And when comes your 
 book forth 1 
 
 Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,^ sir. 
 Let's see your piece. 
 
 Pain. *Tis a good piece. 
 
 poet. So 'lis : this comes off well and excellent. 
 
 Pain. Inditfcrcnt. 
 
 Poet. Admirable: How this grace 
 
 Speaks his own standing ! what a mental pow-er 
 This eye shoots Ibrth ! how big imagination 
 Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of tlie gesture 
 One might interpret. 
 
 Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. 
 Here is a touch ; Is't good I 
 
 Poet. I'll say of it, 
 
 It tutors nature : artificial strife^ 
 Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 
 
 Enter certain Senators, and pass over. 
 
 Pain. How this lord's follow'd ! 
 
 Poet. The senators of Athens : Happy men ! 
 
 Pain. Look, more ! 
 
 Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood 
 of visitors. 
 I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man. 
 Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug 
 With amph'st entertainment : My free drift 
 Halts not particularly,*^ but moves itself 
 In a wide sea of wax: no levelled malice 
 Infects one comma in the course I hold ; 
 But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, 
 Leaving no track bcliind. 
 
 Pain. How shall I understand you 1 
 
 Poet. I'll unbolt to you. 
 
 you see how all conditions, how all minds, 
 
 « As soon as my book has been presented to Timon. 
 
 • i.e. The cont*;st of art with nature. 
 
 • My design does not stop at any particular character. 
 
 627 
 
528 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as 
 Of grave and austere quality,) tender down 
 Tlieir services to lord Tiraon : his large Ibrtune, 
 Upon his good and gracious nature hanging. 
 Subdues and properties to his love and tendance 
 Allsorts ofhearts ; yea, from the glass-facedflattercr' 
 To Aperaantus, that few things loves better 
 Than to abhor himself; even he drops down 
 The knee before him, and returns in peace 
 Most rich in Timon's nod. 
 
 Pain. I saw them speak together. 
 
 Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, 
 Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : The base o'the mount 
 Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, 
 That labor on the bosom of this sphere 
 To propagate their states :8 amongst them all, 
 Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fixed, 
 One do I personate of lord Timon's frame. 
 Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; 
 Whose present grace to present slaves and servants 
 Translates his rivals. 
 
 Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. 
 
 This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, 
 With one man beckon'd from the rest below, 
 Bowing his head against the steepy mount _ 
 To climb his happiness, would be well express d 
 In our condition. 
 
 Puef. Nay, sir, but hear me on : 
 
 All those which were his fellows but of late, 
 (Some better than his value,) on the moment 
 Follow his strides, his lobbies Kll with tendance, 
 Kain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, 
 Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him 
 Drink the free air. 
 
 Pain. Ay, marry, what of these 7 
 
 Puet. When Fortune, in Iier shift and change of 
 mood, 
 Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants. 
 Which labor'd after him to the mountain's top. 
 Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down. 
 Not one accompanying his declining foot. 
 
 Pain. Tis common: 
 A thousand moral paintings I can show. 
 That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune 
 More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well. 
 To show lord Tinion that mean eyes have seen 
 The foot above the head. 
 
 Trumpets sound. Enter Timox, attended; the 
 Servant 0/ Ventiuius talking ivitli him. 
 
 Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you ? 
 
 Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his 
 debt; 
 His means most short, his creditors most strait: 
 Your honorable letter he desires 
 To tliose have shut him up; which, failing to him. 
 Periods his comfort. 
 
 Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well; 
 
 I am not of that feather, to shake oft' 
 My friend when he must need me. I do know him 
 A gentleman, that well deserves a help. 
 Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and tree him. 
 
 Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. 
 
 Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his 
 ransom ; 
 And, being enfranehis'd, bid him come to me: 
 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up. 
 But to support him arter.— Fare you well. 
 
 Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honor ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter an old Athenian. 
 Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. 
 Tim. Freely, good father. 
 
 Old Ath. Thou hast a servant named Lucilius. 
 Tim. I have so: What of him ? 
 Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before 
 
 thee. 
 Tim. Attends he here, or no ?— Lucilius! 
 
 Enter LcciLius. 
 Luc. Here, at your lordship's service. 
 Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Tiraon, this thy 
 creature. 
 By night fi-equents my house. I am a man 
 That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift; 
 And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd. 
 Than one which holds a trencher. 
 
 1 One who shows by rplleclion the looks of bis patron. 
 • Xo aijvance their conditions of life. 
 
 Tim. Well ; what further ? 
 
 Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else 
 On whom I may confer what I have got: 
 Tiie maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride, 
 And I have bred her at my dearest cost. 
 In qualities of the best. This man of thine 
 Attempts her love : I pr'ythee, noble lord. 
 Join with me to forbid him her resort ; 
 Myself have spoke in vain. 
 
 Tim. The man is honest. 
 
 Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Tinion : 
 His honesty rewards him in itself. 
 It must not bear my daughter. 
 Tim. Does she love him ! 
 
 Old Ath. She is young and apt : 
 Our own precedent passions do instruct us 
 What levity's in youth. 
 Tim. [To LcciLics.] Love you the maid] 
 Lite. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. 
 Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be 
 missing, 
 I call the gods to witness, I will choose 
 Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, 
 And dispossess her all. , 
 
 Tim. How shall she be endow d, 
 
 If she be mated with an equal husband 1 
 Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in fu- 
 ture, all ; 
 Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv d me 
 long ; 
 To build his fortune, I will strain a little. 
 For 'tis a bond in men. Give him Illy daughter: 
 What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise. 
 And make him weigh with her. 
 
 Old Ath. Most noble lord, 
 
 Pawn me to this your honor, she is his. 
 
 Tim. My hand to thee ; mine honor on my pro- 
 mise. 
 Lue. Humbly I thank your tordship ; Never may 
 That state or fortune fall into my keeping. 
 Which is not ow'd to you ! 
 
 [Exeunt LlcILirs and old Athenian. 
 Poet. Vouchsafe my labor, and long live your 
 
 lordship ! 
 Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: 
 Go not away.— What have you there, my friend] 
 Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech 
 Your lordship to accept. 
 
 Tim. Painting is welcome. 
 
 The painting is almost the natural man; 
 For since dishonor traflics with man's nature, 
 He is hut outside : These pencil'd figures are 
 Even such as they give out. I like your work ; 
 And you shall hnd, I like it: wait attendance 
 Till vou hear further from me. 
 Pain. The gods preserve you ! 
 
 Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen :— Give nie your 
 hand : 
 We must needs dine together.— Sir, your jewel 
 Hath sufl'er'd under praise. " 
 
 Jew. What, my lord? dispraise ! 
 
 Tim. A mere satiety of commendations. 
 If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoU'd, 
 It would unclewS nie quite. 
 
 Jew. My lord, tis rated 
 
 As those,whichscll,would give: But you well know, 
 Things of like value, dilli?ring in the owners. 
 Are prized by their masters ; believe't, dear lord, 
 Y'ou mend the jewel by wearing it. 
 
 Tim. Well mock d. 
 
 l\!er. No, my good lord ; he speaks the common 
 tongue. 
 Which all men speak with him. 
 Tim. Look, who comes here? Will you be chid? 
 
 Enter Apemastcs. 
 Jew. We will bear with your lordship. 
 jV/e/-, He'll spare none. 
 
 Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apcmantus ! 
 Ajiem. Till I be gentle, stay lor thy good mor- 
 row; 
 When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves 
 honest. 
 Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves! thou 
 
 know'st them not. 
 Apem. Are they not Athenians 1 
 Tim. Yes. 
 
 Ajiem. Then I lepentnot. 
 • Kuin. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TIMON OF ATH?:NS. 
 
 529 
 
 Jew. Ynu know me, Apemantus. 
 
 Apein. Tliou liiiow'st I do ; I call'd thee by thy 
 name. 
 
 Tim. Thou art proud, Apeinantus. 
 
 Apem. Of nothing so mucli, as that I am not 
 like Timon. 
 
 Tim. Whither art going 7 
 
 Apent. To knock outan honest Athenian s brains. 
 
 Tim. Tliafs a deed thou'it die for. 
 
 Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the 
 law. 
 
 Tim. How lik'st thou this picture, Apemantus ! 
 
 Apem. The best, for the innocence. 
 
 Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it 1 
 
 Apem. He wrought better that made the painter; 
 and yet he's but a filthy piece of work. 
 
 Pain. You arc a dog. _ 
 
 Apem. Thy mother's of my generation : What s 
 she, if 1 be a dog ! 
 
 Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus? 
 
 Apem. No ; 1 eat not lords. 
 
 Tim. An tliou should'st, thou'dst anger ladies. 
 
 Apem. 0, tlicy eat lords; so they come by great 
 beUies. 
 
 Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension. 
 
 Apem. So thou apprchend'st it ; Take it for thy 
 labor. 
 
 Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus 1 
 
 Apem. Not so well as plain dealing,' which will 
 not cost a man a doit. 
 
 Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth 1 
 
 Apem. Notworth my thinking. — Hownow,poet? 
 
 Poet. How now, philosopher ! 
 
 Apem. Thou best. 
 
 Puef. Art not one ? 
 
 Apem, Yes. 
 
 Poet. Tlien I lie not. 
 
 Apem. Art not a poet? 
 
 Poet. Yes. 
 
 Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, 
 where thou hast ll'ign'd him a worthy fellow. 
 
 Poet. That's not leigii'd, he is so. 
 
 Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee 
 for thy labor: He that loves to be tlatlercd, is worthy 
 o' the tiattercr. Heavens, that I were a lord ! 
 
 Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus? 
 
 Apem. Even as Apeinantus does now, hate a 
 lord with my heart. 
 
 Tim. What, thyself? 
 
 Apem. Ay. 
 
 Tijii. Wlierefore ? 
 
 Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a lord. — 
 Art not thou a merehaut? 
 
 Jl/fr. Ay, Apemantus. 
 
 Apem. TraHic confound thee, if the gods will 
 not! 
 
 Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it. 
 
 Apem. Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound 
 thee! 
 Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant. 
 
 Tii7i. What trumpet's that ? 
 
 t<err. 'Tis Alcibiades, and 
 
 Some twenty horse, all of companionship. 
 
 Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to 
 
 us.— [Kxeunt some Aiiendanls. 
 
 Y'ou must needs dine with me: — Go not you hence. 
 
 Till I have thaiik'd you; and when dinner's done. 
 
 Show me this piece. — I am joyful of your sights. — 
 
 Enter Alcibiades, with Ats Company. 
 Most welcome, sir ! [T/iey salute. 
 
 Apem. So, so ; there ! — 
 
 Aches contract and starve your supple joints ! — 
 Thatthere should be small love 'mongst these sweet 
 
 knaves. 
 And all this court'sy ! The strain of man's bred out 
 Into baboon and monkey. 
 
 Aleib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed 
 Most hungrily on your sight. 
 
 Tim. Right welcome, sir; 
 
 Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous lime 
 In ditlerent pleasures. Pray you, let us in. 
 
 {E.eeunt ail but Apemantus. 
 
 Enter two Lords. 
 1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus ? 
 Apem. Time to be honest. 
 
 * Alludin;^ to the proverb : Plain dealing is a jewel, but 
 they wlio use it beggars. 
 
 34 
 
 1 Lord. That time serves still. 
 
 Apem. The most accursed thou, that still omit'st 
 it. 
 
 2 Lord. Thoii art going to lord Timon's feast. 
 Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine 
 
 licat fools. 
 2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. 
 Apem. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice. 
 2 Lord. Why, Apemantus ! 
 Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I 
 mean to give thee none. 
 
 1 Lfjrd. Hang thyself. 
 
 Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; 
 make thy requests to thy friend. 
 
 2 Lfjrd. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn 
 thee hence. 
 
 Apem. 1 will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 1 Lord. He*s opposite to humanity. Come, shall 
 
 we in, 
 And taste lord Timon's bounty 1 he outgoes 
 The very heart of kindness. 
 
 2 Lord. He pours it out ; Plutus the god of gold 
 Is but his steward: no meed,2 but he repays 
 Sevenfold above itself; no gill to him. 
 
 But breeds the giver a return exceeding 
 AH use of quittance.3 
 
 1 Urrd. The noblest mind he carries, 
 That ever govern 'd man. 
 
 2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall 
 
 vre i n ! 
 1 Lord. I'll keep you company. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Rfxjm of State in Timon's House. 
 
 Hautboys playing loud Music. A great Banquet 
 served in ; h'Lw lis and others attending i then 
 enter Timun, Alciliades, Licit s, Luclllis, 
 Semi'Roxils, and oifier Athenian Senators^ wiik 
 Vestidils, ««rf Attendants. Tfien annes^ drojh- 
 ping after alt, Apkjiasti's, disconterdedLij. 
 
 Ven. Most honor'd Timon, 't hath pleas'd the 
 gods remember 
 My fatiier's age, and call him to long peace. 
 He is gone liappy, and lias lell me nch : 
 Then, as in gnilulul virtue 1 am bound 
 To your tree heart, I do return those talents. 
 Doubled with tiianks, and service, irom wJiosehelp 
 1 deriv'd liberty. 
 
 Tun. O, by no means. 
 
 Honest Vcntidius : you mistake my love ; 
 I gave it freely ever; and there's none 
 Can truly say, lie gives, if he receives: 
 If our betters play at that game, we must not dare 
 To imitate them ; Faults that are ricli, are lair. 
 
 Ven. A noble spirit. 
 [They all stand ceremoniously looking on Timon. 
 
 Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony 
 
 Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss 
 On faint deeds, hullow welcomes, 
 Hecauting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown ; 
 But where there is true friendsiiip, there needs 
 
 none. 
 Pray sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes. 
 Than my fortunes to me. [They sit. 
 
 1 Lord. My lord, we always have confesseil it. 
 
 Apem. Ho, ho, confess'd it ] hang'd it, iiave you 
 not? 
 
 Tim. O, Apemantus ! — you are welcome.. 
 
 Apem. No, 
 
 You shall not make me welcome; 
 I come to have lliee thrust me out of doors. 
 
 Tim. Fye, thou art a churl; you have got a 
 humor tJiere 
 Does not becunie a man, 'tis much to blame : 
 They say, my lords, that ira furor trevis es/,^ 
 But yond' man's ever angry. 
 Go, let him have a table by himself; 
 For he does neither allect company, 
 Nor is he fit lor it, indeed. 
 
 Apem. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon ; 
 I come to observe; I give thee warning ou't. 
 
 Tim. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athe- 
 nian; therelbre welcome : I myself would have no* 
 power: pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent. 
 
 Apem. I scorn thy meat ; 'twould choke me, for 
 I should 
 
 a Meed here means desoit. 
 
 « i.e. All the customary returns made in discharge of 
 obligations. * Anger is a short madness. 
 
530 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act I. Scene II. 
 
 Ne'er flatter thee. — you gods ! what a number 
 Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not ! 
 It fjrieves me to sec so many dip their meat 
 In one man's ?jlood ; and all the madness is, 
 He cheers them up too.^ 
 
 I wonder men dare trust themselves with men : 
 Methinks they should invite them without knives ; 
 Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. 
 There's much example fort; the fellow, that 
 Sits next him now.parts bread with liim.and pledges 
 The breath of him in a divided draught, 
 Is the readiest man to kill him : it has been prov'd. 
 If I 
 
 Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals ; 
 Lest theyshouldspy my windpipe's dangerous notes: 
 Great men should drink with haniess6 on their 
 throats. 
 
 Tim. My lord, in heart ;' and let the health go 
 round. 
 
 2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord. 
 
 Apem. Flow this way ! 
 
 A brave fellow I — he keeps his tides well. Timon, 
 Tliose healths wi II make thee, and thy state, look ill. 
 Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, 
 Honest water, which ne'er left man i' tlie mire: 
 Tins, and my food, are equals ; there's no odds. 
 Feasts are loo proud to give thanks to the gods. 
 
 Apema.ntus's Grace. 
 
 Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; 
 I pray fur no man but myself: 
 Grant I may never prove sofond,^ 
 To trust man on tiis oath or bond; 
 Or a ftarlotfi/r tier weeping ; 
 Or a dog ttiat seems a-steeping ; 
 Or a keeper wilfi my freedom ; 
 Or my friends, if I sliuuld need 'em. 
 Amen. Ho Jail to't ; 
 Rich men sin, and I eat root. 
 
 [Eats and drinks. 
 
 Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus ! 
 
 Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field 
 now. 
 
 Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, niy lord. 
 
 Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of ene- 
 mies, than a dinner of friends. 
 
 Alci'i. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, 
 there's no meat like them ; I could wish my best 
 friend at such a least. 
 
 Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine 
 enemies then ; and then thou might'stkill 'em, and 
 bid me to 'em. 
 
 1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my 
 lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby 
 we might express some part of our zeals, we should 
 think ourselves for ever perfect. 
 
 7'im. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods 
 themselves have provided that I shall have much 
 111 Ip from you : How had you been my friends else ? 
 why have you that charitable title from thousands, 
 did you not chiclly belong to my iieart '. I have told 
 more of you to myself, than you can with modesty 
 speak in your own behalf; and thus fiir I confirm 
 you. 0, you gods, think I, what need we have any 
 friends,if we should never have need of them 1 
 they were the most needless creatures living,should 
 we ne'er have use for them ; and would most re- 
 semble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that 
 keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have 
 orten wished myself poorer, that I might come 
 nearer to you. Wo are horn to do benefits : and 
 what better or propercr can we call our own than 
 the riches of our friends! 0, what a precious 
 cnmtbrt 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, com- 
 manding one another's fortunes ! O joy, e'en made 
 away ere it can be born ! Mine eyes cannot hold 
 out water, methinks : to forget their faults, I drink 
 to you. 
 
 Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon. 
 
 2 Lord. Joy h,id the like conception in our eyes, 
 And, at that insunt, like a babe sprung up. 
 
 Apem. Ho, ho '. I laugh to think that babe a 
 bastard. 
 
 • Ttie allusion Is to a park of hounds trained to pursuit, 
 tiy lii-injr gralilii'd iiith th.- blood of an animal which fhL-y 
 kill: and tha wonder is, that the animal, on which they 
 are foedinj;, cliycrs tbt^m to the chase. 
 
 « Armor. i With sincerity. > Foolish. 
 
 3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me 
 much. 
 
 Apem. Much'.s [Tucket sounded. 
 
 Tim. What means that trump T— How now ? 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies 
 most desirous of admittance. 
 
 Tim. Ladies 1 what are their wills 1 
 
 Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, my 
 lord.which bears that otHce,tosignify their pleasures. 
 
 Tim. I pray, let them be admitted. 
 
 Enter Cupid. 
 Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon;— and to all 
 Thai of his bounties taste !— The five best senses 
 Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely 
 To gratulate thy plenteous bosom : The ear. 
 Taste, touch, smell, all pleas'd from thy table rise; 
 They only now come but to feast thine eyes. 
 Tim. They are welcome all ; let them have kind 
 admittance : 
 Music, make their welcome. [Exit Cri'iD. 
 
 1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample you are 
 belov d. 
 
 Mu.nc. Re-enter Ccpid, zvifh a Masque of Ladies 
 as Amazons, with Lutes in their Hands, dancing, 
 and playing. 
 
 Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes 
 this way ! 
 They dance ! they arc mad women. 
 Like madness is the glory of this life. 
 As this pomp shows to a little oil, and root. 
 We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves; 
 And spend our flatteries, to drink those men. 
 Upon whose age we void it up again. 
 With poisonous spite, and envy. Who lives, that's 
 
 not 
 Depraved, or depraves? who"dies, that bears 
 Not one spurn to their graves of their friends' gifti 
 I .should tear, those, that dance before me now. 
 Would one day stamp upon me: It has been done; 
 Men shut their doors against a setting sun. 
 
 The Lords rise from Table with murl, adoring of 
 
 Timon; and to shrno their Litres, ii/c/i singles out 
 
 an Amazon, and all dance. Men untli ll'umen,a 
 
 lofty Strain or two to the Haulhuys, and cease. 
 
 Tim. You have done our pleasures much grace, 
 fair ladies, 
 Set a fair fashion on 9ur entertainment, 
 Which was not half so beautiful and kind; 
 You have added worth unto't, and lively lustre. 
 And entertain'd me with mine own device ; 
 I am to thank you for it. 
 
 1 Lady. My lord, you take us even at the best. 
 
 Apem. Faith, lor the worst is filthy ; and would 
 not liold taking, I doubt me. 
 
 Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet 
 Attends you : Please you to dispose yourselves. 
 
 Alt Lad. Most thankfully, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt Cci'iD, onrf Ladies. 
 
 Tim. Flavins, 
 
 Flav. My lord. 
 
 Tim. The little casket bring me hither. 
 
 tlav. Yes, my lord.— More jewels yet ! 
 There is no crossing him in his humor; [ i.tide. 
 Else I should tell him.— Well,— i'faith, I should. 
 When all s spent, he'd be cross'd' then, an he could. 
 Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind ; 
 That man might ne'er be wretched lor his mind.- 
 [Exit, and returns with the Casket. 
 
 1 Lord. Where be our men? 
 
 Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness. 
 
 2 L(n-d. Our horses. 
 
 Tim. O my friends, I have one wont 
 
 To say to you :— Look you, my good lord, I must 
 Entreat you. honor me so much, as to 
 Advance this jewel; 
 Accept, and wear it, kind my lord. 
 
 1 Lord. I am so far already in your gifts, — 
 
 Ail. So are we all. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sfni.Mylord.therearecertainnoblesof the senate 
 Newly alighted, and come to visit you. 
 
 » Much, was formerly an expression of contemptuous 
 admiration. 
 
 > Shakspearo plays on the word crossed^ alluding tc 
 the piece of silver money called a cross. 
 
 " For his nobleness of soul. 
 
Act n. Scene I. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 531 
 
 Tim. They are fairly welcome. 
 ytav. I beseech your honor, 
 
 Vouchsafe nie a word ; it does concern you near. 
 
 Tim. Near \ « h v then another time I'll hear thee : 
 I pr'y thee, let us "be provided 
 To show them entertainment. 
 FUu\ I scarce know how. 
 
 {Aside. 
 Enter another Servant. 
 
 2 SeiT. May it pleaseyourhonor, the lord Lucius, 
 Out of his free love, hath presented to you 
 
 Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver. 
 Tim. 1 shall accept them lairly : let the presents 
 Enter a tliird Servant. 
 Be worthily cntertain'd. — How now. what news 1 
 
 3 tierv. Please you, my lord, that honorable 
 gentleman, lord Luculhis, entreats your company 
 to-morrow to hunt with him; and has sent your 
 honor two brace of greyhounds. 
 
 Tim. I'll hunt with him; And let them be 
 receiv'd. 
 Not without fair reward. 
 
 Flov. {Aside.'] What will this come to'! 
 
 He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, 
 And all out of an empty cotter. — 
 Nor will he know his purse; or yield me this, 
 To show him what a beggar his heart is. 
 Being of no power to make his wishes good ; 
 His promises fly so beyond his state. 
 That wliat he speaks i.s all in debt, he owes 
 For every word ; he is so kmd, that he now 
 Pays interest for'l; his land's put to their books. 
 Well, 'would I were gently put out of office, 
 Before I were forc'd out! 
 Happier is he that has no friend to feed, 
 Than such as do even enemies exceed. 
 I bleed inwardly for my lord. \ExU. 
 
 Tim. You do yourselves 
 
 Much wrong, you batetoo muchofyourown merits: 
 Here, my lord, a trille of our love. 
 
 2 Lord. With more than common thanks I will 
 
 receive it. 
 
 3 Lord. 0. he is the very soul of bounty ! 
 
 Tim. And now I remember me, my lord, you gave 
 Good words the other day of a bay courser 
 I rode on : it is yours, because you liked it. 
 
 2 Lord. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in 
 tiiat. 
 
 Tim. You may take my word, my lord ; 1 know, 
 no man 
 Can justly praise, but what he does affect: 
 I weigh niy friend's alli^ction with mine own : 
 I'll tell you true. I'll call on you. 
 
 A LI Lfirds. None so welcome. 
 
 Tim. I take all and your several visitations 
 So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give ; 
 Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my triends, 
 And ne'er be weary. — Alcibiadcs, 
 Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich. 
 It comes in charity to thee : for all thy living 
 Is 'mongst the dead ; and all the lands thou hast 
 Lie in a pitch'd field. 
 
 Alcib. Ay, defiled land, my lord. 
 
 1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound, 
 
 Tim. And so 
 
 Am I to you. 
 
 2 Lord. So infinitely cndear'd, 
 
 Tim. All to you.^— Lights, more lights. 
 
 1 Lord. The best of happiness. 
 
 Honor, and fortunes, keep with you, lord Timon ! 
 
 Tim. Ready for his friends. 
 
 [Exeunt Alcieiades, Lords, ^c. 
 
 Apern. What a coil's here I 
 
 Serving of beeks.-^ and jutting out of bums ! 
 1 doubt whether Iheir legs be worth the sums 
 That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs: 
 Methinks. lalse hearts should never have sound legs. 
 Thus honest tools lay out Iheirweaith on court'sies. 
 
 Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, 
 I'd be good to tJiec. 
 
 Ajj/ni. No, I'll nothing: for. 
 
 If I should be brib'd too, tliere would be none left 
 To rail upon thee ; and then thou wouldst sin the 
 
 faster. 
 Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me, thou 
 Wilt give away thyself in paper shortly : 
 What need these leasts, pomps, and vain glories 1 
 
 Tim. Nay, 
 
 An you begin to rail on society once, 
 I am sworn, not to give regard to you. 
 Farewell; and come with better music. [Exit. 
 
 Ajiem. So ; — 
 
 Thou'lt not hear me now, — thou shall not then, 
 
 I'll lock 
 Thy heaven'' from thee. O.that men's ears should be 
 To counsel deaf, but not to flattery ! [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— .4 Room in n Senator's House. 
 Enter a Senator, tviffi Papers i/? Aw Hand. 
 
 Sen. And late, five thousand to Varro; and to 
 Isidore 
 He owes nine thousand ; hcsides my former sum, 
 Which makes it (ivc-nnd-twcnty. — Still in motion 
 Of raginp; waste? It cannot hold; it will not. 
 If I want sold, steal but a beggar's dog. 
 And give it Timon, why, tt>e do^ coins Kold : 
 If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more 
 Belter than lie, why, give my horse to Timon, 
 Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, 
 And able horses : No porter at his gate ; 
 But rather one that smiles, and still invites 
 AH that pass by. It cannot hold ; no reason 
 Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho ! 
 Caphis, 1 say I 
 
 Enter Caphis. 
 
 Cfiph. Here, sir, what is your pleasure? 
 
 Sen. Get on your cloak, and haste you to lord 
 Timon ;" 
 Impftrtune him for my moneys ; be not ceased^ 
 With slight denial; nor then silenced, when — 
 Commend me to your master — and the cap 
 Plays in the right hand thus : — but tell him, sirrah, 
 My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn 
 Out of mine own ; his days and times are past. 
 And my reliances on his iVactcd dates 
 Have smit my credit : I love, and honor him ; 
 But must not break my back, to heal his finger. 
 Immediate arc my needs; and my relief 
 Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, 
 3 Stopped. 
 
 But find supply immediate. Get you gone : 
 
 Put on a most importunate aspeci, 
 
 A visage of demand ; for, I do fear, 
 
 When every leather slicks in his own wing, 
 
 Lord Timon will be lel^ a naked gull^ 
 
 Which (hislies now a phtenix. Get you gone. 
 
 Caph. I j;o, sir. 
 
 Hen. I go. sir !— take the bonds along with you, 
 And have tlie dates in compt. 
 
 Capli. I will, sir. 
 
 Sen. • Go. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE II.— -4 Hall in Timon's House. 
 Enter Flavu'S, tvith many Bills in fiis Ham 
 Flav. No care, no stop! so senseless of expens 
 That he will neither know how to maintain it, 
 Nor cease his flow of riot: Takes no account 
 How things go from him ; nor resumes no care 
 Of what is to continue : Never niind 
 Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. 
 What slinll l)e d«me ? He will not hcAr, till feel : 
 1 must he round with him, now he comes from 
 
 hunting. 
 Fye, fye, fye, fye ! 
 
 Enter Caphis, and tfte Servants of Isidore and 
 
 Varro. 
 
 Capfi. Good even, Varro: What, 
 
 You come for money 1 
 
 Var. Serv. Is't not your business too] 
 
 Caph. It is; — and yours too, Isidore 1 
 laiU.Serv. It is so 
 
 * )■.<■. All happiness to you. ' Offeiing ealutatioa 
 
 « By his heaveu he means good advice. 
 
532 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act II. Scene IT. 
 
 Caph. Would we were all discharged ! 
 
 Vur. Senj. I fear it. 
 
 Caph. Here comes the lord. 
 
 Enter Timon, Alcibiades, and Lords, 4-c. 
 
 Tim. So soon as dinner's done, w'cll forth again, 
 My Alcibiades. — With me ? What's your will \ 
 
 Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain dues. 
 
 Tim. Dues ] Whence are you ! 
 
 Caph. Of Athens here, my lord. 
 
 Tim. Go to my steward. 
 
 Caph. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off 
 To the succession of new days tliis month ; 
 My master is awak'd hy great occasion, 
 'J'o call upon his own; and humbly prays you, 
 That with your other noble parts you'll suit, 
 In giving him his right. 
 
 Tim. Mine honest friend, 
 
 I jir'ythce, but repair to me next morning. 
 
 Caph. Nay, good my lord, 
 
 Tim. Contain thyself, good friend. 
 
 Var. Serv. One Varro's servant, my good lord : — 
 
 Isvi.Serv. From Isidore ; 
 He humbly prays your speedy payment, ■ 
 
 Caph. If you did know, my lord, my master's 
 wants, 
 
 I'ar. Serv. 'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six 
 weeks, 
 And past, 
 
 hill. Sen. Your steward puts me o/f, my lord ; 
 And I am sent expressly to your lordship. 
 
 Tim. Give me breath : 
 
 I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on ; 
 ^ [E.r:eant ALCini,vm;s and Lords. 
 
 I 11 wait upon you instantly.— Come hither, pray 
 you; [To P'LAVius. 
 
 How goes the world, that I am thus encounler'd 
 With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds, 
 And the detention of long-since-due debts, 
 Against my honor ? 
 
 Ftav. Please you, gentlemen, 
 
 The time is unagreeable to this business: 
 Your importunacy cease, till at^erdirmer; 
 That I may make his lordship understand 
 Wherefore you arc not jjaid. 
 
 Tim. Do so, my friends: 
 
 See them well enterlain'd. [Exit Timon. 
 
 Ftuv. ' I jjray, draw near. [Exit Flavius. 
 
 Enter ArEMANTis and a Fool. 
 
 Caph. Stay, stay ; here comes tlie fool with Ape- 
 mantus ; let's have some sport with 'em. 
 
 Vetr. Serv. Hang him, he'll abuse us. 
 
 Isid. SeriK A plague upon liim, dog ! 
 
 Var. Serv. How dost, tool ? 
 
 Apeni. Dost dialogue with thy shadow? 
 
 Kur. I speak not to thee. 
 
 Apem. No; 'tis to thyself.— Come away. 
 
 [To the Font. 
 
 Isid. Serv. [To Var. Serv.] There's the tool 
 hangs on your back already. 
 
 Apem. No, thou sland'st single, thou art not on 
 him yet. 
 
 Caph. Where's the fool now ? 
 
 Apem, He last ask'd the question. — Poor rogues, 
 and usurers' men ! bawds between gold and want ! 
 
 All Serv. What are we, Apemantusl 
 
 Apem. Asses. 
 
 All Serv. Why? 
 
 Apem. That you ask me what you are, and do 
 not know yourselves. — Speak to 'em, fool. 
 
 Fnot. How do you, gentlemen ? 
 
 All Serv. Gramercies, good fool: how does your 
 nu-^tress ? 
 
 Ffiot. She's e'en setting on water to scald such 
 cliiekens as you are. 'Would we could see you 
 at Corinth. 
 
 Apem. Good ! gramcrcy. 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Fool. Look you, here comes my mistress' page. 
 
 I'oKe. [To he Fool.] Why, how now, captain ? 
 what do you in this wise company ?— How dost 
 thou. Apemantus ? 
 
 Apem. 'Would 1 had a rod in my mouth, that I 
 might ansvver thee profifably. 
 
 Page. Pr'ythee. Apemantus, read me the super- 
 scription of I hese letters ;1 know not which is which. 
 
 Apem. Canst not read ? 
 
 Page. No. 
 
 Apem. There will little learning die then, that 
 day thou art hanged. This is to lord Timon ; this 
 to Alcibiades. Go ; thou wast born a bastard, and 
 thou'lt die a bawd. 
 
 Page. Thou wast whelped a dog ; and thou shall 
 famish, a dog's death. Ansvver not, 1 am gone. 
 
 [i'i-ii Page, 
 
 Apem. Even so thou out-run'st grace. Fool, 
 I will go with you to lord Timon's. 
 
 Fool. Will you leave me there? 
 
 Apem. If Timon stay at home.— You three serve 
 three usurers ? 
 
 All Serv. Ay ; 'would tliey serv'd us I 
 
 Apem. So would 1, — as good a trick as ever 
 hangman served thief. 
 
 Foot. Are you three usurers' men? 
 
 All Serv. Ay, tool. 
 
 Fool. I think, no usurer but has a fool to his 
 servant: My mistress is one, and I am her fool. 
 When men come to borrow of your masters, they 
 approach sadly, and go away merry; but they 
 enter my mistress' house merrily, and go away 
 sadly : The reason of this ? 
 
 Tar. Serv. I could render one. 
 
 Apem. Do it then, that we may account thee a 
 vvhoremaster, and a knave ; whicii'notwithstanding 
 thou Shalt be no less esteemed. 
 
 Var. Serv. What is a wlioremaster, fool ? 
 
 Foot. A fool in good clothes, and something like 
 thee. 'Tis a spirit: sometime, it appears like a lord; 
 sometime, like a lawyer; sometime, like a philoso- 
 pher, with two stones more than his artiticial one: 
 He is very often likea knight; and, generally inall 
 shapes, that man goes up and down in, from ibur- 
 score to thirteen, this si)irit walks in. 
 
 J'ar. Serv. Thou art not altogether a fool. 
 
 Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man : as much 
 foolery as 1 have, so much wit thou laekest. 
 
 Apem. That answer might have become Ape- 
 mantus. 
 
 Alt Serv. Aside, aside; here comes lord Timon. 
 
 Re-enter TiMOS and Flavius. 
 
 Apem. Come with me, fool, come. 
 Fool. I do not always follow lover, elder brother, 
 and woman ; sometime, the philosopher. 
 
 [Exeunt Apemantus and Fool. 
 Flav. 'Pray you, walk near ; I'll speak with you 
 anon. [Exeunt Serv. 
 
 Tim. You make me marvel: Wherefore, ere this 
 time. 
 Had you not fully laid my state before me; 
 That 1 might so have rated my expense. 
 As 1 had leave of means ? 
 
 Flav. You would not hear me, 
 
 At many leisures I propos'd. 
 
 Tim. Go to : 
 
 Perchance, some single vantages you took. 
 When my indispositi.ui put you back; 
 And that unajitness made your nnnister. 
 Thus to excuse yourself. 
 
 Flav. O my good lord ! 
 
 At many times 1 brought in my accounts. 
 Laid them before you ; you would throw them off. 
 And say, you found them in mine honesty. 
 When, for some trilling present, you liave bid me 
 Return so much," I have shook my head, and wept; 
 Yea, 'gainst the anlhorily of manners, pray'd you 
 To hold your hand more close: I did endure 
 Not seldom, nor no slight checks; when 1 have 
 Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate. 
 And your great tlow of debts. Mv deai-lov'd lord. 
 Though you hear now, (too late !■) yel uow'satime. 
 The greatest of your having lacks a half 
 To pay your present debts. 
 Tim. Let all my land be sold. 
 
 Flav. 'Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone; 
 And what reinaiiis will hardly slop the mouth 
 Of present dues ; the future comes apace : 
 What shall delend the interim ? and at length 
 How goes our reckoning? 
 Tim. To Laccda;mon did my land extend. 
 Flav. O my good lord, the w'orld is but a word ; 
 Were it all yours, to give it in a breath. 
 How quickly were it gone ! 
 Tim. You tell me true. 
 
 Fliiv. Ifyou suspect my husbandry, or liilsehood. 
 Call me before the exactest auditors, 
 1 A ctM-taiu sum. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 TIMOX OF ATHENS. 
 
 533 
 
 And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, 
 When all our oHiccs* have been oppress d 
 With riotous feeders ; when our vaults have wept 
 With drunken spilth of wine ; when every room 
 Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy ; 
 I hiive retir'd me to a wasteful cock, 
 And set mine eyes at flow. 
 
 Tim. Pr ythee, no inorc. 
 
 Fla'v. Heavens, have I said, the' bounty of this lord ! 
 H.1W many prodigal bits have slaves, and peasants, 
 This night englutted ! Who is not Timon's 1 
 What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is lord 
 
 Timon's "! 
 Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon ! 
 Ah ! when the means are gone, that buy this praise. 
 The breath is gone whereof this praise is made : 
 Feast-won, fast-lost ; one cloud of winter showers. 
 These Hies are couch'd. 
 
 Tim. Come, sermon ine no farther: 
 
 No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart ; 
 Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. 
 Why dost thou weep ! Canst thou the conscience 
 
 lack. 
 To think I shall lack friends ? Secure thy heart ; 
 If I would broach the vessels of my love. 
 And try the argument of hearts by borrowing. 
 Men, and men's fortunes, could I frankly use, 
 As I can bid thee speak. 
 
 fUiv. Assurance bless your thoughts ! 
 
 Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of mine 
 are crown'd,^ 
 That I account them blessings; for by these 
 Shall I try friends: Yon shall perceive how you 
 Jlistake my fortunes ; I am wealthy in myfriends. 
 Within there, ho !— Flaminius, Servilius '. 
 
 Enter Flajiixius, Servilius, and other Servants. 
 Serv. My lord, my lord, — 
 
 Tim. 1 will despatch you severally.— You, to 
 lord Lucius,— 
 To lord Lucullus you ; I hunted with his 
 Honor to-day ;— You to Sempronius ; 
 Commend me to their loves ; and, I am proud, 
 
 saj', 
 That my occasions have found time to use them 
 Toward a supply of money : let the request 
 Be fifty talents. 
 Fliiin. As you have said, my lord. 
 
 Fiuv. Lord Lucius, and lord Lucullus] humph! 
 
 \_Asi(lc. 
 
 Tim. Go you, sir, [To another Serv.] to the 
 
 senators, 
 (Of whom, even to the state's best health. I have 
 beserv'd this hearing,) bid 'em send o' the instant 
 A thousand talents to me. 
 
 Flav. I have been bold, 
 
 (For that I knew it the most general way.) 
 To them to use your signet, and your name ; 
 Hut they do shake their heads, and I am hero 
 No richer in return. 
 Tim. Is't true ? can it be? 
 
 Flav. They answer in a joint and corporate voice. 
 That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot 
 Do what they would; arc sorry — you are honor- 
 able, — 
 But yet tliey could have wish'd — they knov? not — 
 
 but 
 Something hath been amiss— a noble nature 
 May catch a wrench — svould all were well — 'tis 
 
 pity— 
 And so, intending-^ other serious matters. 
 Alter distasteful looks and these hard fractions. 
 With certain half-caps,^ and cold-moving nods. 
 They froze me into silence. 
 
 Tim. You gods, reward them ! — 
 
 I pr'ylhee, man, look cheerly ; These old fellows 
 Have their ingratitude in them hereditary : 
 Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom tiows ; 
 'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind; 
 And nature, as it grows again toward earth. 
 Is liishion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy.— 
 Go to Ventidius,— [To a Serv.] 'Pr'ythee.— [To 
 
 Flavics,] be not sad. 
 Thou art true and honest; ingeniously' I speak, 
 No blame belongs to thee : [Tu Serv.] Ventidius 
 
 lately 
 Buried his father; by whose death, he s stepp d 
 Into a great estate ; when he was poor, 
 Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, 
 I clear'd him with five talents : Greet him from me ; 
 Bid him suppose, some good necessity 
 Touches his friend, which craves lobe remember'd 
 With those five talents: that had,— [To Fi,AV.] 
 
 give it these fellows 
 To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think. 
 That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink. 
 Flav. I would, I could not think it; that thought 
 
 is bounty's foe; 
 Being free^ itself, it tlunks all others so. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— .4 Room in Liicullus's House. 
 
 Flamin'il'S waifiug. Enter a Servant to him. 
 
 Serv. I have t(»ld my lord of you ; he is coming 
 down to you. 
 
 Flam. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Enter LUCOLLUS. 
 
 Serv. Here's my lord. 
 
 LitcuL [Asvie.] One of lord Timon's men^ a 
 gift. I warrant. Why this hits ri.i^ht; I dreamt of 
 a silver basin and ewer to-nit^ht. Flaminius, honest 
 Flaminius; you are very respectively' welcome. 
 sir. — Fill me some wine. — [Exit Servant.! And 
 how does that honorable, complete, free-hearted 
 gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord 
 and master? 
 
 Flam. His health is well, sir. 
 
 Lucid. I am right glad that his health is well. sir. 
 And what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty 
 Flaminius ? 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; 
 which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat your 
 honor to supply : who, having grent and instant 
 occasion to use lifty talents, hath sent to your lord- 
 ship to furnish him ; nothingdoubting your present 
 assistance therein. 
 
 LucuL La, la, la, la, — nothing doubting, says 
 he 1 alas, good lord ! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he 
 would not keep so good a houso. Many a time and 
 often have I dined with him. and told himon't; and 
 come again to supper to him, of purpose to have 
 
 8 Tbe apartments allotted to culinary offices, kc. 
 
 » Dignified, made respectable. » for respectfully. 
 
 him spend less; and yet he would embrace no 
 counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every 
 man has his fault, and honesty'' is his; I have told 
 him on'l, but I could never get him from it. 
 
 Rc'Cnter Servant, with Wine. 
 
 Serv. Please your lordship, here is the wine. 
 
 JaicuL Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. 
 Here's to thee. 
 
 Flam. Your lordship speaks your pleasure. 
 
 LucuL I have observed thee always tor a towardly 
 prompt spirit, — give thee thy due.^and one that 
 knows wliat belongs to rea.^on ; and canst use the 
 time well, if the time use thee well :— good parts in 
 thee.— Get you gone, sirrah.— [To the Servant, 
 icho goes ouL] — Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. 
 Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman: but thou art 
 wise; and thou knowest well enough, allhmigli 
 thou comest to me, that this is not a time to lend 
 money; especially upon bare friendship, without 
 security. Here's three solidares for thee; good 
 boy, wink at me, and say, thou sawest me not. 
 Fare thee well. 
 
 Flam. Is't possible, the world should so much 
 d I tier; 
 And we alive, that liv'dl Fly, damned baseness, 
 To him that worships thee. 
 
 {Throwing the Money away. 
 
 1 Intending had anciently the same meaning as attend- 
 ing. 
 
 J A half-cap is a cap slightly moved, not put off. 
 
 < For ingenuously. ■ Liberal, not parsimonious. 
 
 6 Honesty hero means liberality. 
 
534 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act III 
 
 Lund. Ha ! Now I see thou art a fool, and fit 
 for thv master. [Exit Lvcullus. 
 
 Flam. May theise add to the nuniticr that may 
 scald thee ' 
 Let molten coin be thy damnation. 
 Thou disea.<e of a friend, and not himself! 
 Has friendship such a faint and milky heart, 
 ]t turns in less than two niirhts '? O, you gods, 
 I feel my master's passion !^ This slave 
 Vnto his honor has my lord's meat in him : 
 Why should it thrive, and turn to nutriment, 
 When he is turn'd to poison ] 
 D, may diseases only work upon't ! 
 And when he is sick to death, let not that part of 
 
 nature 
 Which my lord paid for, be of any power 
 To e.xpel sickness, but prolong his hour ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ ruUic Place. 
 
 Enter Lncica, with three Strangers. 
 
 Luc. Who. the lord Timon ? he is my very good 
 friend, and an honorable gentleman. 
 
 1 Stran. We know lijm for no less, though we 
 are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one 
 thing, my lord, and vvliich I hear from common 
 rumors; now lord Timou's happy hours are done 
 and past, and his estate shrinks from him. 
 
 Luc. Fye, no, do not believe it; he cannot want 
 lor money. 
 
 2 Stran. But believe you this, my lord, that not 
 long ago, oneof his men was with the lord LucuUus, 
 to borrow so many talents; nay, urged extremely 
 for*t, and show'd what necessity beloug'd to't, and 
 yet was denied, 
 
 Luc. How 1 
 
 2 Stran. I tell you, denied, my lord. 
 
 Luc. What a strange case was tliat 7 now, before 
 the gods, I'm ashamed on't. Denied that honor- 
 able man? there was very little honor show'd in't. 
 For my own part, I must needs con less, I have re- 
 ceived some small kindnesses from him, as money, 
 plate, jewels, and such like trifles, nothing compar- 
 ing to his; yet, had he mistook him, and sent to 
 nie, I should ne'er have denied his occasion so 
 many talents. 
 
 Enter Serviiius. 
 
 Ser. See, my good hap, yonder's my lord ; I have 
 sweat to see his honor. — My honored lord, — 
 
 [Tu Lvciis. 
 
 Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare 
 thee well ; — Commend me to thy honorable-virtu- 
 ous lord, my very exquisite friend. 
 
 Ser. May it please your honor, my lord hath 
 sent 
 
 Luc. Ha! what has he sent] I am so much 
 endeared to that lord ; he's ever sending ; How 
 shall 1 thank him, thinkest thou ! And what has 
 he sent now ! 
 
 Ser. He has only sent his present occasion now, 
 my lord; requesting your lordship to supply his 
 instant use with so many talents. 
 
 Luc, I know, his lordship is but merry with me; 
 He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. 
 
 Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my 
 lord. 
 If his occasion were no^ virtuous, 
 I should not urge it half so faithfully. 
 
 Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 
 
 Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, .sir, 
 
 Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish 
 myselfagainstsuch a good tiine,wlien I might have 
 shown myself honorable ! how unluckily it hap- 
 pened, that I should purchase the day before lor 
 a little part, and undo a great deal of honor 1 — 
 Ser\iliiis, now, before the gods, I am not able to 
 do't ; ttie more beast, I say: — I was sending to use 
 lord Tiinon myself, these gentlemen can witness ; 
 But 1 would not for the wealth of Athens, I had 
 done it now. Commend me bountifully to his 
 good lordship; and 1 hope, his honor will conceive 
 the fairest of me. because I have no power to be 
 Kind : And tell him this from me, I count it oneof 
 my greatest a!llielii)ns, say, that I cannot pleasure 
 such an honorable gentleman. Good Servilius, 
 will )K)u befriend me so liir, as to use mine own 
 words to him ' 
 
 1 SulTering. 
 
 Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 
 
 Luc. I will look you out a good turn. Servilius. — 
 [E.vit Sehvilius. 
 True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed ; 
 And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. 
 
 [ ICxit LuciuB. 
 
 1 Stran. Do you observe this, Hostihua ! 
 
 2 Stran. Ay, too well. 
 1 Stran. Why this 
 
 Is the world's soul ; and just of the same piece 
 Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him 
 His friend, that dips in the same dish ! for, in 
 My knowing, Timon hath been this lord's father 
 And kept his credit with his purse ; 
 Supported his estate ; nay, Timou's money 
 Has paid his men their wages ; He ne'er drinks. 
 But Timon's silver treads upon his lip ; 
 .\nd yet, (O, see the monstrousness of man 
 When he looks out in an ungrateful shape !) 
 He does deny him, in respect of his. 
 What charitable men afford to beggars. 
 
 3 Stra?i. Religion groans at it. 
 
 1 Stran. For mine own part, 
 
 I never tasted Timon in my Ufc, 
 Nor came any of his bounties over me. 
 To mark me for his friend ; yet, I protest. 
 For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, 
 And honorable carriage, 
 Had his necessity made use of me, 
 I would have put my wealth into donation. 
 And the best half should have return'd to him. 
 So much I love his heart : But, I perceive, 
 Men must learn now with pity to dispense: 
 For policy sits above conscience. [Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Room in Sempronius's House. 
 Enter Sempronil'S, and a Servant o}'TiMOs's. 
 Sem. Must he needs trouble me in't? Humph ! 
 'Bove all others? 
 He might have tried lord Lucius, or LucuUus; 
 And now Ventidius is wealthy too. 
 Whom he redeem'd from prison: All these three 
 Owe their estates unto liim. 
 
 Sen'. my lord. 
 
 They have all been touched, and found base metal ; 
 
 for 
 They have all denied him ! 
 
 Sem. How! have they denied liim^ 
 
 Has Ventidius and LucuUus denied him ? 
 And does he send to me ? Three ? humph ! — 
 It shows but little love or judgment in hini. 
 Must I be his last refuge ? His friends, like phy- 
 sicians. 
 Thrive, give him over; Must I take the cure upon 
 
 me? 
 He has much di.sgr.aced me in't ; I am angry at him. 
 That might have known my place: I see no sense 
 
 for't. 
 But his occasions might have woo'd me Hrst ; 
 For, in my conscience, I was the first man 
 That e'er received gift from him : 
 And does he think so backwardly of me now, 
 That I'll requite it last ? No : So it may prove 
 An argument of laughter to the rest. 
 And 1 amongst tlie lords be thought a fool. 
 I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum. 
 He had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake; 
 I had such a courage to do him good. But now 
 
 return, 
 .■\nd with their faint reply this answer join ; 
 Who bates mine honor shall not know my coin. 
 
 [Exit. 
 SfTO. ExceUent ! Your lordship's a goodly villain. 
 The devil knew not what be did, when he made 
 man politic; he cross'd himself by'f; and I cannot 
 think, but in the end, the viUanies of man will set 
 him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear 
 foul I takes virtuous co'pies to be wicked; like those 
 that, under hot ardent zeal, would set whole realms 
 (Ui fire. 
 
 Of such a nature is his politic love. 
 This was my lord's best hope ; now all arc fled, 
 Save the gods only: Now his friends are dead. 
 Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards 
 Many a bounteous year, must bo employ'd 
 Now to guard sure their master. 
 .\nd this is all a liberal course allows; 
 Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep hishouse 
 
 [ExU 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 TIMON OP ATHENS. 
 
 535 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^ Hall in Timon's Hoitse. 
 
 Enter two Ser\'ants nf Varro, anii the Servant of 
 LcciDs, meeting Titcs, Horte.vsius, and other 
 Servants to Timon's Creditors, wailing his 
 coming out. 
 
 Var. Serv. Well met; good morrow, Titus and 
 Horteasius. 
 
 Tit. The like to you, kind \iarro. 
 
 Hor. Lucius? 
 
 Wliat do wc meet togetlier 1 
 
 Luc. Serv. Ay, and, I think. 
 
 One business dotli command us all ; Ibr mine 
 Is moneJ^ 
 
 TU. So is theirs and ours. 
 
 Enter PniLOTfs. 
 
 Luc. Serv. And sir 
 
 Philotus too! 
 
 Phi. Good day at once. 
 
 Lttc. Serr. Welcome, good brother. 
 
 What do you think the hour ! 
 
 Phi. Laboring for nine. 
 
 Luc. Serv. So much 1 
 
 Phi. Is not my lord seen yet ? 
 
 Luc. Serv. Not yet. 
 
 Phi. 1 vvonderon't: he was wont to shine at seven. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Ay, but the days are waxed shorter 
 with him : 
 You must consider, that a prodigal course 
 Is like the sun's, but not, like his, recoverable. 
 I fear, 
 
 'Tis deepest winter in lord Timon's purse ; 
 That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet 
 Find little. 
 
 Phi. I am of your fear for that. 
 
 Tit. I'll show you how to observe a strange event. 
 Your lord sends now for money. 
 
 hor. Most true, he does. 
 
 Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gilt. 
 For which I wait lor money. 
 
 hor. It is against my heart. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Mark, how strange it shows, 
 
 Timon in this sfiould pay more than he owes ; 
 And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels 
 And send for money for 'em. 
 
 Hor. I am weary of this charge, the gods can 
 witness : 
 I know, my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth. 
 And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth. 
 
 I Var. Serv. Ves,mine's three thousand crtiwns ; 
 What's yours ! 
 
 Luc. Serv. Five thousand miiie. 
 
 1 Var. Serv. 'Tis much deep : and it should seem 
 by the sum. 
 Your master's confidence was above mine ; 
 Else, surely, his had equall'd. 
 
 Enter Flamin'ius. 
 
 Tif. One of lord Timon's men. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Flaminius ! sir, a word: 'Pray, is my 
 lord ready to come forth ? 
 
 Flam. No, indeed, he is not. 
 
 Ti/. We attend his lordship; 'pray signify so much. 
 
 Flam. I need not tell him that : he knows, you 
 are too diligent. [Exit Fi.a!jinii's. 
 
 Enter Flavics, in a cloak, muffled. 
 
 Lu :. Serv. Ha ! is not that his steward inufTIed so ? 
 He sues away in a cloud; call him, call liim. 
 
 Tit. Do you hear, sir ] 
 
 1 Var. Serv. By your leave, sir, 
 
 Flav. What do" you ask of me, my friend ? 
 
 Tit. We wait for certain money here, sir. 
 
 Ftav. Ay, 
 
 If money were as certain as your waiting, 
 'Twerc sure enough. Why then preferr'd you not 
 Your sums and bills, when your false masters eat 
 Of my lord's meat? Then they could smile.andfawn 
 Upon his debts, and take down th' interest 
 Into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves 
 
 but wroni. 
 To slir me up; let me pass quietly : 
 Believe't, my lord and 1 have made an end : 
 I have no more to reckon, he to spend. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Ay, but this answ'er will not serve. 
 
 Flav. If 'twill not, 
 
 'Tis not so base as you ; for you serve knaves. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 1 Vur. Serv. How! what docs his cashier'd wor- 
 
 ship mutter? 
 
 2 Var. Serv. No matter what ; he's poor, and 
 that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader 
 than he that has no house to put his head in? 
 Such may rail against great buildings. 
 
 Enter Seiivilius. 
 
 Tit. 0, here's Servihus; now we shall know 
 Some answer. 
 
 Ser. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, 
 
 To repair some other hour. I should much 
 Derive from it; for, take it on my soul. 
 My lord leans woiid'rously to discontent. 
 His comfortable temper has forsook him ; 
 He is much out of heallli, and keeps his chamber. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers, are 
 not sick : 
 And, if it be so far beyond his health, 
 i\Iethinks, he should the sooner pay his debts, 
 And make a clear way to the gods. 
 
 iSVr. Good gods ! 
 
 Tit. We cannot take this for an answer, sir. 
 
 Flam. [H'ithin.] Serviliu.s, help! — my lord! my 
 
 lord :— 
 Enter Tiiiox, in a rage; FhMnswa following. 
 
 Tim. What, are my doors oppos'd against my 
 passage ? 
 Have I been ever free, and must my house 
 He my retentive enemy, my gaol ? 
 The place which I have feasted, does it now. 
 Like all mankind, show me an iron heart ! 
 
 Luc. Serv. Put in now, Titus. 
 
 Tit. My lord, here is my bill. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Here's mine. 
 
 Hor. Serv. And mine, my lord. 
 
 Both Var. Serv. And ours, my lord. 
 
 Phi. All our bills. 
 
 Tim. Knock me down with 'cm:S cleave mc to 
 the girdle. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Alas ! my lord, 
 
 Tim. Cut my heart in sums. 
 
 Til. Mine, li'lly talents. 
 
 Tim. Tell out my blood. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Five thousand crowns, my lord. 
 
 Tim. Five tliousand drops pays that. — 
 What yours? — and yours ? 
 
 1 Var. Serv. My lord, 
 
 2 I or. Serv. My lord, • 
 
 Tim. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon 
 
 you! [Exit 
 
 Hor. 'Faith, 1 perceive our masters may throw 
 
 their caps at their money; these debts may well 
 
 be called desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Re-enter Timon and Flavits. 
 Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, 
 the slaves ; 
 Creditors! — devils. 
 
 Flav. Mv dear lord, • 
 
 Tim. What if it should be so ? 
 
 Fliiv. My lord. 
 
 Tim. Ill have it so ; — My steward ! 
 Flav. Here, my lord. 
 
 Tim. So fitly ? Go. bid all my tViends again, 
 Lucius, Lucullus. and Sempronius; all: 
 I'll once more feast the rascals. 
 
 /7(/i'. 0, my lord. 
 
 You only speak from your distracted soul ; 
 There is not so much left to furnish out 
 A moderate table. 
 
 Tim. Be't not in thy care ; go, 
 
 I charge thee ; invite them all : let in the tide 
 Of knaves once more ; my cook and I'll provide. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 SCENE y.—The Senate-Howe. 
 The Senate silting. Enter Alcibiades, attended 
 
 1 Sen. My lord, you have my voice to it;thc fault's 
 Bloody ; 'lis necessary he should die : 
 
 Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. 
 
 2 Sen. Most true ; the law shall bruise him. 
 Alcib. Honor, health, and compassion to the 
 
 senate ! 
 
 I Sen. Now, captain? 
 
 Alcih. I am an humble suitor to your virtues , 
 For pity is the virtue of the law, 
 
 • Timon quilibles. They present tht^ir written bill.'': ho 
 catcbus at the word, and .alludes to bills or battle-axes. 
 
536 
 
 TBION OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act III. Scene VL 
 
 And none but tyrants use it cruelly. 
 
 It pleases time, and fortune, to lie heavy 
 
 Upon n friend of mine, who, in hot blood, 
 
 Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth 
 
 To those thai, wiihont lieed, do plunge into it. 
 
 He is a man, getting liis fate aside, 
 
 Of comely virtues : 
 
 IVor did lie soil the fact with cowardice; 
 
 (An honor in him, which buys out his fault;) 
 
 But, with a noble fury, and fair spirit, 
 
 Seein^-his reputation touch'd to death. 
 
 He did oppose his foe : 
 
 And with such sober and unnoted passion 
 
 }{e did behave^ his an^'er, ere 'twas spent, 
 
 As if he had but prov'd an argument. 
 
 1 Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox, 
 Strivuig to make an ugly deed look fair ; 
 Your words iiave took such pains, as if they laborM 
 To briuK manslaughter into form, set quaVelling 
 Upon the head of valor; which, indeed. 
 Is valor misbegot, and came into the world 
 When sects and tactions were newly born : 
 He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer 
 The worst that man can breathe ; and make his 
 
 wrongs 
 His outsides; wear them like his raiment.,carelessly ; 
 And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
 To bring it into danger. 
 If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, 
 What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill ! 
 
 Alrih. My lord, 
 
 1 Sen. You cannot make gross sins look clear ; 
 To revenge is no valor, but to bear. 
 
 Alcib. My lords, then, under lavor, pardon me. 
 
 If I speak like a captain. 
 
 Why do fond men cxju)-se themselves to battle, 
 
 And not endure ail tlln■atenl^u^■^ ! sleep upon it 
 
 And let the foes quietly cut tiicir throats, 
 
 Witliout repugnancy ! but if there be 
 
 Such valor in the bearing, what make we 
 
 Abroad \ why then, women are more valiant, 
 
 That stay at home, if bearing carry it ; 
 
 And tir ass more captain than the lion ; the felon, 
 
 Laden with irons, wiser than the judge, 
 
 If wisdom be in sutfering. my lords, 
 
 As you are giieat. be pitifully good : 
 
 Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? 
 
 To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust ;i 
 
 But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just. 
 
 To be in anger, is imjiiety; 
 
 But who is man. that is not angry? 
 
 Weigh but the crime with this. 
 
 2 Sen. You breathe in vain. 
 
 Alcib. In vain? his service done 
 
 At Lacedfemon, and Byzantium, 
 Were a sulticient briber for his life. 
 
 1 Sen. What's that ? 
 
 Alcib. Why, I say, my lords, h'as done fair 
 service. 
 And slain in hght many of your enemies: 
 How full of valor did be bear himself 
 In the last contlict, and made plenteous wounds ! 
 
 2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with'em, he 
 Is a sworn rioter; h'as a sin that ot^en 
 
 Drowns him, and takes his valor prisoner: 
 If there were no foes, that were enough alone 
 To overcome him : in that beastly fury 
 He has been known to commit outrages, 
 And cherish factions: 'Tis iuferr'd to us, 
 His days are foul, and his drink dangerous. 
 
 1 N(7(. He dies. 
 
 Aici!/, Hard fate ! he might have died in war. 
 My lord:^. if not for any parts in him, 
 (Though his rightarnunight purchase hisown time, 
 And be in debt to none,) yet more to move you. 
 Take my deserts to his, and join them both : 
 And, for I know, your reverend ages love 
 Security. I'll pawn my victories, all 
 My honor to you, upon his good rrlums. 
 If by this crime he owes the law his life, 
 Wliy- b't the war receive't in valiant gore ; 
 For law is strict, and war is nothing more. 
 
 1 Sen. Wc are for law, he dies ; urge it no more, 
 On height of our displeasure : Friend, or brother, 
 He forfeits his own blood, that spills another. 
 
 Alcib. Must it be so ? it must not be. My lords, 
 T do beseech you, know me. 
 
 2 Sen. How? 
 
 Alcib. Call me to your remembrances. 
 • Manage, govL-rn. * For aggrav.ttion. 
 
 3 Sen. What? 
 
 Alcib. I cannot think, but your age has/isrgotme; 
 It could not else be. I should prove so base,^ 
 To sue, and be denied such common grace : 
 My wounds ache at you. 
 
 1 Sen. Do you dare our anger 1 
 
 'Tis in a few words, but spacious in effect; 
 We banish thee for ever. 
 
 Alcib. Banish me ? 
 
 Banish your dotage; banish usury, 
 That makes the senate ugly. 
 
 1 Se7i. If.after two days'shine, Athens contain thee, 
 Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell 
 
 our spirit. 
 He shall be executed presently. [Exeunf Senators, 
 
 Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough: that 
 you may live 
 Only in bone, that none may look on you ! 
 I am worse than mad : I have kept back theii 
 
 foes. 
 While they have told their money, and let out 
 Their coin upon large interest; I myself. 
 Rich only in large hurts;— All those, for this ? 
 Is this the balsam, that the usurin^ senate 
 Pours into captains' wounds? ha! banishment? 
 It comes not ill ; I hate not to be banish'd ; 
 It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, 
 That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up 
 My discontented troops, and lay for heart.s,3 
 'Tis honor with most lands to be at odds; 
 Soldiers should brook as little wrongs, as gods. 
 
 [Exir, 
 
 SCENE VI. — A magnijicent Room in Timon's 
 
 House. 
 
 Music. Tables out: Servants attending. Enter 
 
 (livers Lords, at several Doors. 
 
 1 Lord. The good time of day to you. sir. 
 
 2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think, this 
 honorable lord did but try us this other day. 
 
 1 Lord. Upon that we're my thoughts tiring.'^ 
 when we encountered: I hope it is not so low 
 withJiim, as he made it seem in the trial of his 
 sf^veral friends. 
 
 2 Lord. It should not be, by the persuasion of 
 his new feasting. 
 
 1 Lord. I should think so : He hath sent me an 
 earnest inviting. which many my near occasions did 
 urge me toput otf; but he hath conjured me beyond 
 them, and I must needs appear. 
 
 2 Lfird. In like manner was I in debt to my 
 importunate business, but he would not hear my 
 excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, 
 that my provision was out. 
 
 1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I under- 
 stand how all things go. 
 
 2 Lord. Every man here's so. What would he 
 have borrowed of you ? 
 
 1 Lord. A thousand pieces. 
 
 2 Litrd. A thousand pieces ? 
 
 1 Lord. What of you ? 
 
 3 Lord. He sent to me, sir— Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Timon, trrzrf Attendants. 
 
 Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both:— And 
 how fare you ? 
 
 ! Lf;r(f.'Ever at the best, hearing well of your 
 lordship. 
 
 2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer more 
 ■willing, than we your lordship, 
 
 Tim. [Aside.] Nor more willingly leaves winter; 
 such summer-birds are men. — Gentlemen, our 
 dinner will not recompense this long stay: feast 
 your ears with the music awhile ; if they will fare 
 so harshly on the trumpet's sound: we shall lo't 
 presently. 
 
 1 D/rd. I hope it remains not unkindly with y.tur 
 lordship, that I returned you an empty messenger. 
 
 Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you. 
 
 2 Lord. My noble lord. 
 
 Tim. Ah, my good friend, what cheer? 
 
 [The Banquet brougfit in. 
 
 2 Lard. My most honorable lord, I am e'cu sick 
 of shame, that when your lordship this other day 
 sent to me, I was so unfortunate a beggar. 
 
 Tim. Tliink not on't, sir. 
 
 a For dishonored. 
 
 a AVe should now say — lay out for hearts, i. c. the affec- 
 tions of the people. 
 * To tire on a thing, meant to be idly employed on it. 
 
Act IV. Scene II. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 537 
 
 2 Loril. If you had sent but two hours before,— 
 Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. 
 — Come, bring in all together. 
 
 2 Lm-d. All covered dishes ! 
 
 1 Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you. 
 
 3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money and the season 
 can yield it. 
 
 1 Lord. How do you ■! wh,at's the newsl 
 
 3 Lrrrd. Alcibiades is banisli'd : Hear you of it ! 
 
 1 Sf 2 Lord. Alcibiades banished ! 
 
 3 Lord. 'Tis so, be sure of it. 
 
 1 Lord. How ] how 1 
 
 2 Lord. I pray you, upon what ? 
 
 Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near ! 
 
 3 Lord. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble 
 feast toward. 
 
 2 lAjrd. This is the old man still. 
 
 3 Lord. Will't hold 7 wiU't hold? 
 
 2 Lord. It docs: but time will— and so 
 
 3 Lord. I do conceive. 
 
 Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spur as he 
 would to the lip of his mistress: your diet shall 
 be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, 
 to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the Hrst 
 place: Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. 
 
 You great benefactors, sprinkle our society Ivith 
 iliankfulness. For ijouroivn f^ifls, make you'rselres 
 praised : but reserre still to t^ine, lest iiour deities be 
 despised. Lend to eacti man enou^ti, ttiat otie need 
 7iot lend to another ; for, were your godtieads to 
 borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make 
 the meal be beloved, more than lite man that gives it. 
 Let no assembly of twenty be withtmt a score of 
 villains : Ifttiere sit twelve women at the table, let a 
 dozen of fkem be— as they are.— The rest of your 
 fees, O gods, — ttie senators of Athens, together with 
 the common hi g'^ of maple,— what is aviissin ttiem, 
 you gods, make suitable for destruction. For these 
 7ny present friends, — as they are to me notliing, so 
 in nothing bless them, and to nothing they are 
 tuelcoiue. 
 Uncover, dogs, and lap. 
 
 [The Vishes uncovered are fullof warm water. 
 
 Some speak. What does his lordship mean 1 
 
 Stnne other. I know not. 
 
 Tim. May you a better feast never behold, 
 You knot of mouth-friends ! smoke, and luke-warin 
 
 water. 
 Is your pcrlection. This is Timon's last ; 
 Who stuck and spangled you with flalteries, 
 Washes it od', and sprinkles in your faces 
 
 [Throwing water in their faces. 
 Your reeky villany. Live loath'd and long. 
 Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites. 
 Courteous destroyers, artiible wolves, meek bears, 
 You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's dies, 
 Cap and knee slaves, vapors, and minute-jacks !» 
 Of man and beast, the inhnite malady 
 Crust you quite o'er !— What, dost thou go 1 
 Soft, take thy physic first— thou too,— and thou ;— 
 [Throws the Dishes at them, and dnves 
 them out. 
 Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. — 
 What, all in motion 1 Henceforth be no feast, 
 Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest, 
 liurn, house ! sink, Athens ! henceforth hated be 
 Of Timon, man, and all humanity ! [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter the Lords, with other Lords and Senators. 
 
 1 Lord. How now, my lords 1 
 
 2 L(/i-d. Know you the quality of lord Timon 3 
 
 fury 1 
 
 3 Lord. Pish ! did you see my cap ■? 
 
 4 Lord. I have lost my gown. 
 
 3 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and nought but 
 humor sways him. He gave me a jewel the other 
 day, and now he has beat it out of my hat :— Did 
 you see my jewel 1 
 
 4 Lard. Did you see my i jpl 
 2 Lirrd. Here 'lis. 
 
 4 Lord. Here lies my gown. 
 
 1 Lord. Let's make no stay. 
 
 2 Ijird. Lord Timon's mad. 
 
 3 Lord. I leel't upon my bones, 
 
 4 Ijjrd. One day he gives us diamonds, next day 
 
 stones. [Ejceunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Without the tra/fa o/ Athens. 
 Enter Timon. 
 Tim. Let me look hack upon thee, thou wall 
 That girdiest in tliose wolves ! Dive in the earth, 
 And fence not Athens ! Matrons, turn incontinent ! 
 Obedience fail in children ! slaves and fools, 
 Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, 
 And minister in their steads ! to general tilths'" 
 Convert, o' the instant, green virginity ! 
 Do 't in your parents' eyes ! bankrupts, hold fast ; 
 Rather than render back, out with your knives, 
 Andcut your trusters'lhroats! bound servants.steal! 
 Large-handed robbers your grave masters are; 
 And pill by law ! maid, to lliy master's bed; 
 .Thy mistress is o' the brothel'! s(m of sixteen. 
 Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire, 
 With it boatouthis brains! piety, and tear, 
 Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
 Dcmestic awe, night-rest, and neighborhood, 
 Instruction, manners, mjsteries, and trades, 
 Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, 
 Decline to your confounding contraries. 
 And yet confusion live ! — Plagues, incident to men. 
 Your potent and inlecttous fevers heap 
 On Athens, ripe for stroke ! thou cold sciatica. 
 Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt 
 As lamely as their manners ! lust and liberty" 
 Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth ; 
 That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive. 
 And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains. 
 Sow all the Alhcnian bosoms; and their crop 
 Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath ; 
 TliaL their society, as their friendship, may 
 Be merely poistni ! Nothing I'll bear from thee, 
 But nakedness, thou detestable town ! 
 
 • The lowfst. 
 1 For libertiuism. 
 
 • Common sewers. 
 
 Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!' 
 Timon will to the woods; where he shall find 
 The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind 
 The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all) 
 Tlie Athenians both within and out that wall ! 
 And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow 
 To the whole race of mankind, high and low ! 
 Amen. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Athens. A Room in Timon's 
 
 House. 
 Enter FLAvnis, with two or three Servants. 
 1 Serv. Hear you, master steward, Where's our 
 master 1 
 Are we undone ] cast off? nothing remaining ! 
 
 Flav. Alack, mvfellows,what should I say to you 1 
 Let me he recorded by the righteous gods, 
 I am as poor as you. 
 
 1 Serv. Such a house broke ! 
 So noble a master fallen ! All gone ! and not 
 One friend, to take his fortune by the arm. 
 And go along with him I 
 
 2 Serv. As we do turn our backs 
 From our companion, thrown into his grave ; 
 
 So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
 Slink all away ; leave their false vows wnth him, 
 Like empty purses pick'd : and his poor self, 
 A dedicated beggar to the air. 
 With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty. 
 Walks, like contempt, alone.— More of our fellows. 
 Enter other Servants. 
 Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house. 
 
 3 Serv Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery. 
 That see I by our faces; we are fellows still, 
 
 • .Tacksof the clock; like those of St. Bunstan's church, 
 in Flfft stroot. 
 > Accumulate-d curses. 
 
538 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Serving alike in sorrow ; Leak'd is our bark ; 
 And vvc, poor mates, stand on tha dying deck, 
 Hearing the surges threat: we must all part 
 . Into tills sea of air. 
 
 Flew. Good fellows all. 
 
 The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you. 
 Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake, 
 Let's >'ct be fellows ; let's shake our heads, and say, 
 As 'tvvere a knell unto our master's fortunes. 
 We have seen betler days. Let each take some ; 
 
 [ Giving them Money. 
 Nay, jHit out all your hands. Not one word more : 
 Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. 
 
 [Exeunt Servants. 
 0, the fierce' wretchedness that glory brings us ! 
 Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, 
 Since riches point to misery and contempt? 
 Who'd be so mock'd with glory 1 or to live 
 But in a dream of friendship \ 
 To have his pomp, and all what state compounds. 
 But only painted like his varnish'd friends 1 
 Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, 
 Undone by goodness ! Strange, unusual blood,- 
 When a man's worst sin is, he does too much good! 
 Who then dares to be half so kind again 1 
 For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. 
 My dearest lord,— bless'd, to be most accurs'd, 
 Rich, only to be wretched ;— thy great tbrtunes 
 Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord ! 
 He's rtung in rage from this ungrateful seat 
 Of monstrous friends: nor has he with him to 
 Supply his life, or that which can command it. 
 I'll liillow, and inquire him out; 
 I'll serve his mind with my best will; 
 Whilst I have gold, I'll be'his steward slill. [Exit. 
 SCENE III.— Tte Woo^is. 
 Enter Timon. 
 Tim.. blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth 
 Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb 
 Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb, — 
 Whose procreation, residence, and birth. 
 Scarce is dividant,— touch them with several for- 
 tunes ; 
 The greater scorns the lesser : Not nature. 
 To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune. 
 But by3 contempt of nature. 
 Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord ; 
 Tiie senator shall bear contempt hereditary. 
 Tile boggar native honor. 
 It is IMe pasture lards the brother's sides. 
 The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who 
 
 dares. 
 In purity of manhood stand upright. 
 And say. This man's a flatterer? If one be, 
 So are they all ; for every grize of fortune 
 Is smooth'd by that below : the learned pate 
 Ducks to the golden tool : All is oblique; 
 There's nothing level in our cursed natures, 
 But direct villany. Therefore be abhorr'd 
 All feasts, societies, and throngs of men ! 
 His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains: 
 Destruction fang' mankind !— Earth, yield me 
 roots ! [Digsing. 
 
 Who seeks lor betler of thee, sauce his palate 
 With thy most operant poison ! What is here 1 
 Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold ? No,gods, 
 I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens ! 
 Thus much of this, will make black, white; foul, 
 
 lair; 
 Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, 
 
 valiant. 
 Ha, you gods ! why this \ What this, you gods ? 
 
 Why this 
 Will lug your priests and servants from your sides; 
 Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: 
 This yellow slave 
 
 Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; 
 Make the honr leprosy ador'd; place thieves. 
 And give them title, knee, and approbation. 
 With senaiors on the bench : this is it. 
 That makes tlie wappen'dJ vvidow wed again ; 
 She, whom the spital-liouse. and ulcerous sores. 
 Would cast the gorge at, this i-inb;iliiis and spices 
 To the April day again.s Come, damned earth, 
 ' Hasty, procipit.ifc, i Propensity, disposition. 
 
 3 Bid l.y is here usetl for without. 
 
 • Seize, gripe. i .Sorrowful. 
 
 • i.e.. Gold restores her to all the sweetness and fresh- 
 ness of youth. 
 
 Thou common whore of mankind, that put'stodds 
 
 Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
 
 Do tiiy right nature.— [ilto-cA afar off.]—lia.. a 
 
 drum ?— Thou'rt quick. 
 But yet I'll bury thee: Tliou'lt go, strong thief, 
 When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand :— 
 Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [Keeping same gold. 
 
 Enter Alcibiades, with Jl-» m and Fife, in luarlike 
 manner; Purvma oHrf Tlmandua. 
 Alcib. What art thou there 1 
 
 Speak. 
 Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw 
 thy heart. 
 For showing me again the eyes of man ' 
 Alcib. What is thy name ' Is man so hateful to 
 thee. 
 That art thyself a man? 
 
 Tim. I am misanthrnpns, and hate mankind. 
 For thy part, I do wisli thou wert a dog. 
 That I might love thee something. 
 
 Alcib. I know thee well : 
 
 But m thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. 
 Tim. 1 know thee too; and more than that I 
 know thee, 
 I not desire to kiiow. Follow thy drum ; 
 With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules: 
 Religious canons, civil laws are cruel ; 
 Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine 
 Hath in lier more destruction than thy sword. 
 For all her cherubin look. 
 Phr. Thy lips rot off! 
 
 Tim. I will not kiss thee ; then the rot returns 
 To thine own lips again. 
 Alcil). How came the noblcTimon to this change? 
 Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to give: 
 But then renew I could not, like the moon; 
 There were no suns to borrow of. 
 
 Alcib. Noble Timon, 
 
 Wliat triendship may I do thee ? 
 
 Tim. None, but to 
 
 Maintain my opinion. 
 Alcib. What is it, Timon? 
 
 Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none:If 
 Tliou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for 
 Thou art a man ! If thou dostperform,confound thee, 
 For thou'rt a man ! 
 Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. 
 Tim. Thou siiw'st them, when I had prosperity. 
 Aleib. I see them now ; then was a blessed time. 
 Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. 
 Timan. Is this the Athenian minion, whom the 
 world 
 V^oiced so regardfully '! 
 Tim. Art thou Timandra ! 
 
 Timan. Yes. 
 
 Tim. Be a whore still ! they love thee not, that 
 use thee ; 
 Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. 
 Make use of thy salt hours : season the slaves 
 For tubs,and baths ; bring down rose-cheeked youth 
 To the tub-fast, and the diet.' 
 Timan. Hang thee, monster ! 
 
 Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra ; for his wits 
 Arc drown'd and lost in his calamities. — 
 I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, 
 The want wliereof doth daily make revolt 
 In my penurious band : I have heard, and griev'd, 
 How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, 
 Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbor states, 
 But lor thy sword and fortune, trod upon them, — 
 Tim. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum.and get thee gone. 
 Aleib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. 
 Tim. How dost thou pity' him,wlioui tliou dost 
 trouble ? 
 I had rather be alone. 
 
 Alcib. Why, fare thee well : 
 
 Here's some gold for thee. 
 Tim. Kcep't, I cannot eat it. 
 
 Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a 
 
 heap. 
 
 Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens? 
 Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause, 
 
 Tim. The gods confound them all i' thy coiir|uest ; 
 and 
 Thee after, when thou hast conquer'd ! 
 Alcib. Why me, Timon? 
 
 "> Alluding to the cure of the lues venerea, then in 
 practice. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TIMON OP ATHENS. 
 
 5.39 
 
 Tim. Tliat, 
 B\ killini^ villains, tliou wast bom to conquer 
 My country. 
 
 Pilt up thy gold : Go on, — here's gold, — go on; 
 Be as a planetary ]>lagne, when Jove 
 Will o"cr some high-vic'd city hang his poison 
 In the sick air : Let not thy sword skip one : 
 Pity not honor'd age for his white beard, 
 He*s an usurer : Strike nie the counteileit matron ; 
 It is her habit only that is honest, 
 Hersell's a bawd : Let not the virgin's cheek 
 Make sott thy trenchant^ sword ; tor those milk- 
 paps. 
 That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, 
 Are not within the leaf of pity writ. 
 Set them down horrible traitors: Spare not the babe. 
 Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their 
 
 merc5' ; 
 Think it a bastard.s whom the oracle 
 Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, 
 And mince it sans remorse:' swear against objects ;- 
 Put armor on tliine ears, and on thine eyes. 
 Whose proof, nor yells (il ini>ihiTs.niaids,'nor babes, 
 Nor sight of priests in holy \e>tiii(nts bleeding, 
 Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to jiay thy soldiers : 
 Make large confusion ; and, thy fury spent. 
 Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. 
 Akib. Hast tho'u gold yet! I'll lake the gold 
 
 thou giv'st me ! 
 Not all thy counsel. 
 Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse 
 
 upon thee ! 
 Phr.Si Tinian. Give us some gold, good Timon: 
 
 Hast thou more ! 
 Tiiti. Enough lo make a whore forswearher trade, 
 And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, 
 V'our aprons mounlant: You are not oathable. — 
 Although, I know. jou'U swear, terribly swear, 
 Into strong shudders, and to heavenly "agues. 
 The immortal gods that hear you, — spare your 
 
 oaths, 
 I'll trust to your conditions :3 Be whores slill ; 
 And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you. 
 Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up ; 
 Let your close hre predominate his smoke, 
 And be no turncoats: Yet may your pains, six 
 
 months. 
 Be quite contrary : And thatch your pofir thin roofs 
 With burdensol thedead ;— some that were hang'd. 
 No matter:— wear them, betray with Ihem : whore 
 
 still; 
 Paint till a horse may mire upon your face : 
 A pox of wrinkles! 
 
 PItr.Sf Tirnaii. Well, more gold;— What then?— 
 Believe't, that we'll do any thing lor gold. 
 
 Tim. Consumptions sow 
 In hollow bones of man ; strike their sharp shins. 
 And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice. 
 That he may never more false title plead. 
 Nor sound his quiUels' shrilly : hoar the liamen, 
 That scolds against the quality of llesh. 
 And not believes himsell : down with the nose, 
 Down with it Hat ; take the bridge quite away 
 Of him, that his particular to foresee. 
 Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate 
 
 ruffians bald ; 
 And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war 
 Derive some pain from you : PJague all ; 
 That your activity may defeat and quell 
 The source of all erection.— There's more gold :— 
 Do you damn others, and let this damn you. 
 And ditches grave you all ! 
 PAr. Sr Timan. Jlore counsel with more money, 
 
 bounteous Timon. 
 Tim. More whore, more mischief first; I have 
 
 given you earnest. 
 Akib Strike up the drum towards Athens. 
 
 Farewell, Timon ! 
 If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. 
 Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. 
 Akib. I never did thee harm. 
 Tim. Y^es, thou spok'st well of me. 
 •^'cid. Call'st thou that harm ? 
 
 Tm. Men daily find it such. Get thee away. 
 And take thy beagles with thee. 
 
 « Cutting. » An allusion to the talu of (Edipus. 
 
 * Without pity. 
 
 ^ i.e. .4gaiu.st objects of charity and compassion 
 
 > Vocations. . Subtilties. 
 
 Akib. We but offend him.— 
 
 Strike. 
 
 [Drum beats. Exit Alcieiades, Phuynia, 
 
 (ind TiM.iNDHA. 
 
 Tim. That nature, being sick of man's unkind- 
 ness. 
 Should yet be hungry !— Common mother, thou 
 
 [Digging. 
 Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, 
 Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle. 
 Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is pufTd, 
 Engenders ihe black toad, and adder blue, 
 The gilded newt, and eyeless venoni'd worm,* 
 With all the abhorred births below crisp" heaven 
 Whereon Hyperion's quickening hre doth shine; 
 Y'ield him, who all thy human sons doth hale. 
 From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor rout ! 
 Ensear thy f(?rtile and conceptions womb. 
 Let it no more bring out ingrateful man ! 
 Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears ; 
 Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face 
 Hath to the marble mansion all above 
 Never presented !— O, a root,— Dear thanks ! 
 Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas : 
 Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, 
 And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, 
 That from it all consideration slips ! 
 
 Enter Apemantis. 
 More man '! Plague ! ])lague ! 
 
 Apeni. I was directed hither: Men report 
 Thou dost all'ect my manners, and dost use them. 
 
 Tim, Tis then, because thou dost not keep a doe 
 Whom I would imitate: Consumption catch theel 
 
 A/iem. This is in thee a nature but allijcted ; 
 A pooruTimanly melancholy, sprung 
 From change of Itirtune. Why this spade 1 this 
 
 place ] 
 This slave-like habit, and these looks of care t 
 Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft, 
 Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot 
 That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, 
 By putting on the cunning of a carper. 
 Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
 By that which has undone thee : hinse thy knee, 
 And let his very breath, whom thou'lt obs'erve. 
 Blow oir thy cap; jiraise his most vicious strain, 
 And call it excellent; thou wast told thus; 
 Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel- 
 come, 
 To knaves, and all approachers ; 'Tis most just. 
 That thou turn rascal ; hadst thou wealth again, 
 Uasc.ils should have't. Do not assume my likeness. 
 
 Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. 
 
 Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like 
 thyself; 
 .\ madman so long, now a fool : What, think'st 
 That the bleak air, thy boisterous chambcrhiin. 
 Will iHil thy shirt on warm 1 Will these moss'd trees. 
 That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, 
 .\nd skip when thou point'st out ! Will the cold 
 
 brook. 
 Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste. 
 To cure Ihy o'ernight surfcitl call the creatures,— 
 Whose naked natures live in all the spile 
 Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, 
 To the conllicting elements expos'd, 
 .\iiswer mere nature,— bid them flatter thee; 
 O ! thou shall find 
 
 Tim. A fool of thee: Depart. 
 
 ■Ajiem. I love thee better now than e'er I did. 
 
 Tim. I hate theo worse. 
 
 Apem. Why ? 
 
 ?■'"'■ Thou flatter'st misery. 
 
 Apem. I flatter not ; but say thou art a caitili; 
 
 Tim. Why dost thou seek ihe out ! 
 
 Apem. To vex thee. 
 
 1 im. Always a villain's oUice, or a fool's. 
 Dost please thyself in't ! 
 
 Aiiem. Ay. 
 
 Tim. What ! a knave too ? 
 
 Apem. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on 
 To castigate thy pride, 'iwcre well : but thou 
 Dost it enforcedly ; Ihou'dst courtier be again, 
 Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery 
 Outhves uncertain pomp, is ciown'd before;' 
 The one is hlling still, never complete ; 
 The other at high wish : Best state, contentless, 
 
 ' The serpent called the blind-worm. « Curved. 
 
 ' i.e. Arrives sooner at the completion of its wishes. 
 
540 
 
 TIMON OP ATHENS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Hath a distracted and most wretched being, 
 
 Worse than the worst, content. 
 
 Thou shouldst desire to die. being miserable, 
 
 Tim. Not by his breath^ that is more miserable. 
 Thou art a slave, ■whom Fortune's tender arm 
 With favor never clasp'd ; but bred a dog. 
 Hadst thou, like us, from our first swat h^ proceeded, 
 The sweet degrees that this brief world atlbrds 
 To such as may the passive drugs of it 
 Freely com mand.thouwouldst have plunged thyself 
 In gen'ral riot; melted down thy youth 
 In dilFerent beds of lusts; and never learnM 
 The icy precepts of respect, but foUow'd 
 The sugar'd game before thee. But myself 
 Who had the world as my confectionary ; 
 The mouths, the tougucs, the eyes and lioartsof men 
 At duty, more than 1 could frame employment; 
 That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves 
 Do oil tlie oak, have with one winter's brush 
 Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare 
 For every storm that blows; — I to bear this, 
 That never knew but better, is some burden : 
 Thy nature did commence in sutTerance, time 
 Hath made thee hard in*t. Why should'st thou hate 
 
 men 1 
 They never flatterM thee. What hast thou given"! 
 If thou wilt curse, — thy father, that poor rag, 
 Must be thy subject ; who, in spite, put stulf 
 To some she-beggar, and compounded thee. 
 Poor rogue hereditary. Hence I be gone ! — 
 If thou hadst not been born the worst of men 
 Thou hadst been a knave, and tlatterer. 
 
 Apf-Jii. Art thou proud yet 1 
 
 Tun. Ay, that I am not thee. 
 
 Apcni. I, that I t^'as 
 
 No prodigal. 
 
 Tim. I, tiiat I am one now ; 
 
 Were all the wealth 1 have shut up in thee, 
 I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. — 
 That the whole life of Athens were in this ! 
 Thus would I eat it. [Eating a root. 
 
 Apeiii. Here; I will mend thy feast. 
 
 [Offeri7ig him something. 
 
 Tim. First mend my company, take away thy- 
 self. 
 
 Apcm. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack 
 of thine. 
 
 Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd ; 
 If not, I would it were. 
 
 Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens 1 
 
 Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, 
 Tel! them there I have gold; look, so I have. 
 
 Apcm. Here is no use for gold. 
 
 Tim. The best and truest ; 
 
 For here it sleeps and does no hired harm. 
 
 Apem. Where ly'st o'nights, Timoni 
 
 Tim. Under that's above me. 
 
 Where feed'st thou o'days, Apcmantus'? 
 
 Apem. Where my stomach liuds meat; or,rather, 
 where I eat it. 
 
 Tim. "Would poison were obedient, and knew 
 my mind ! 
 
 Apem. W^here wouldst thou send it? 
 
 Tim. To sauce thy dishes. 
 
 Apem. TJie middle of humanity thou never 
 knewest, but the extremity of both ends ; When 
 thou war^t in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mock- 
 ed thee lor too much curiosity;' in thy rags thou 
 knov.est none, but art despised lor tlie contrary. 
 There's a nied!ar for tliee, eat it. 
 
 Tim. On what 1 hate, I feed not. 
 
 A7>c!'t. Dost hate a medlar? 
 
 Tim. Ay, though it look like Hice. 
 
 Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, 
 thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What 
 man didst thou ever know unthrift, that was be- 
 loved after his means ! 
 
 'Tim. WJio, without those means tliou talkest of, 
 didst thou ever know beloved? 
 
 Apem. Myselt; 
 
 Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some means 
 to keep a dog. 
 
 Apem. What things in the world canst thou 
 fiearest compare to thy batterers] 
 
 Tim. Women nearest: but men, men are the 
 things themselves. What wouldst ihou do with the 
 world, Apemantus, if it lay in tJiy power! 
 
 ■ l!y his voice, sentence. 
 
 * For ton much finical delicacy. 
 
 » From infancy. 
 
 Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. 
 
 I'im. Wouldst thou liave thyself fall in the con» 
 fusion of men. and remain a beast witJi the beasts! 
 
 Apem. Ay, Timon. 
 
 Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant 
 thee to attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox 
 would beguile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox 
 would eat thee : if thou wert the fox, tlic lion would 
 suspect thee .when.pcradventurc. thou wert accused 
 by the ass : if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would 
 torment thee; and still thou livedst but as a break- 
 fast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greedi- 
 ness would afllict thee, and ol^ thou shouldst hazard 
 thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the unicorn, pride 
 and wrath would conlbund thee, and make thine 
 own self the conquest of thy fury: wert tlioua bear, 
 thou wouldst be killed by the "horse: wert thou a 
 horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard : vi-ert 
 thou a leopard, thou wert gerinan to the lion, and 
 the spots of thy kindred were jurors on tiiy life: all 
 thy safety were remotion ;2 and thy detence,absence. 
 What beast couldst thou be, that wert not subject to 
 a beast ? and what a beast art thou already, that 
 scest not thy loss in transformation ] 
 
 Apem. If thou couldst please me with speaking 
 to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here : The com- 
 monwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts. 
 
 Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou 
 art out of the city \ 
 
 Apem. Yonder comes a poet and a painter: The 
 plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to 
 catch it, and give way; When 1 know not whatelse 
 to do, I'll see thee again. 
 
 Tim. When there ]s nothing living but thee, thou 
 shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog, 
 than Apemantus. 
 
 Apem. Thou art the cap^ of all the fools alive. 
 
 Tim. 'Would thou wert clean enough to spit 
 upon. 
 
 Apem. A plague on thee, thou art too bad to 
 curse. 
 
 Tim, All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure. 
 
 Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st. 
 ^ Tim. If I name thee. — 
 ril beat thee, — but I should infect my hands. 
 
 Apem. I would, my tongue could rot them off! 
 
 Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! 
 Choler does kill me, that thou art alive; 
 I swoon to see thee. 
 
 Apem* 'Would thou would'st burst! 
 
 Tim. Away, 
 
 Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose 
 A stone by thee. [Throws a Shne at him. 
 
 Apem. Beast ! 
 
 Tim. Slave ! 
 
 Apem., Toad ! 
 
 Tim. Rogue, rogue, rogue ! 
 
 [APEMAXTrs retreats backward, as going. 
 I am sick of this false world ; and will love nought 
 But even the mere necessities upon it. 
 Then, Timon. presently prepare thy grave; 
 Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat 
 Thy grave-stone daily ; make thine epitaph. 
 That death in me at others' lives may laugh. 
 thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce 
 
 [Looking un the Gold. 
 Twixt natural son and sire ! thou bright defiler 
 Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars ! 
 Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, 
 Wiiose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
 That lies on Dian's lap; thou visible god, 
 That solder'st close impossibilities. 
 And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every 
 
 tongue. 
 To every purpose! O thou touch^of hearts! 
 Think, tJiy slave man rebels ; and by thy virtue 
 Set them into contbunding odds, that beasts 
 May have tiic world in empire ! 
 
 Apem, 'W^ould 'twere so ;— 
 
 But not till I am dead !— I'll sav, thou hast gold, 
 TJiou wilt be throng'd to shortly. 
 
 Tim. Throng'd to \ 
 
 Apem. Ay. 
 
 Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythec. 
 
 Apem. Live, and love thy misery 
 
 Tim. Long live so, and so die !— I am quit.— 
 [Exit Apemantl'S, 
 
 ■> Rcmotoness; the bpinj; placed at a distance from the 
 lion, a The top, the priQcipal. * Touchstone. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 541 
 
 More thin°;s like men! — Eat, Timon, and abhor 
 them. 
 
 Enter Thieves. 
 
 1 Thief. Where should he have this ^old 1 It is 
 some poor fragment, some slender oi t of his re- 
 mainder : The mere want of gold, and the falling- 
 froni of Ids friends, drove him into this melancholy. 
 
 2 Thitf. It is noised, hehatha raassof treasure. 
 
 3 Thitf. J,et us make the assay upon him : if he 
 care not for't, he will supply us easily; if he covet- 
 ously reserve it, how shall's get it 1 
 
 2 7'A;/7'.True;rorhebearsitnotabouthim,'tishid. 
 
 1 Thiif. I- not this he! 
 Thicvef^. Where ! 
 
 2 Thief. 'Tis his description. 
 
 3 Thuf. He ; I know him. 
 Thiev'fs. Save thee, Timon. 
 Tun. Now. thieves ^ 
 Thieves. Soldiers, not thieves. 
 Tun. B )th too: and women's sons. 
 
 Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much 
 do want. 
 
 Tim. Vour greatest want is, you want much of 
 meat. 
 Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots; 
 Within this mile break forth a hundred springs: 
 The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips ; 
 The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush 
 Lays her full mess before you. Wanti why want? 
 
 1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, 
 As beasts, aud birds, and tishcs. 
 
 Tint. Nor on the beasts themselves, tlic birds, 
 and fishes ; 
 You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, 
 Tliat you are thieves profess'd ; that you work not 
 In holier shapes : for there is boundless Ihefl 
 In limited^ professions. Rascal thieves. 
 Here's gold : Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, 
 Till th(? high fever seethe your blood to froth. 
 And so 'scape hanging : trust not the physician ; 
 His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
 More than you rob: take wealth and lives together; 
 Do villany, do, since you profess to di»'t, 
 Like woriimen. I'll example you with thinvery : 
 The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
 Hobs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, 
 And her pale tire she snatches from the sun : 
 The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
 The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief. 
 That feeds and breeds by a composture^ stolen 
 From general excrement: each thing's a Ihief; 
 The law^s, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
 Have uiicheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away, 
 Ilob one another. There's more gold : Cut throats; 
 All that you meet are thieves : To Athens, go, 
 Break open shops ; nothing can you steal. 
 But thieves do lose it; Steal not "less, for this 
 I give you ; and gold confound you howsoever ! 
 
 [TiMON' retires to Aw Cave. 
 
 3 Thief. He has almost cliarmed me from my 
 profi'ssinn, by persuading me to it. 
 
 1 'Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he 
 thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. 
 
 2 Thiff I'll believe him as an enemy, arid give 
 over my trade. 
 
 1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Atliens: There 
 is no time so miserable, but a man may be true. 
 
 [Kxeutit Thieves, 
 
 Jil7iler Flavius. 
 Flav. O you gods ! 
 Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord ? 
 Full of decay and failing ! O monument 
 And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd ! 
 What an alteration of honor has 
 Desperate want made ! 
 
 What viler thing upon tlie earth, than lYiends 
 Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! 
 How rarely" does it meet vvitli this time's guise, 
 When man was wish'd to love his enemies: 
 
 • Legal. 8 Compost, manure. 
 
 ' How happily. 
 
 Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo 
 
 Those that would mischief me, than those thatdo! 
 
 He has caught me in his eye: I will present 
 
 My honest grief unto liim; and. as my lord. 
 
 Still serve him with my life. — My dearest master! 
 
 Timon comes forward froin his Cave. 
 
 Tim. Away ! what art thou 1 
 
 Flav. Have you forgot me, sir? 
 
 Tim. Why dost ask that 1 I have forgot all men ; 
 Then,ifthougrant'st thou art man,l!iave Ibrgotthee. 
 
 Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. 
 
 Tim. Then 
 
 I know thee not : I ne'er had honest man 
 About me, I ; all that I kept were knaves, 
 To serve in meat to villains. 
 
 Flav. The gods are witness, 
 
 Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief 
 For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. 
 
 Tim. What, dost thou weep?— Come nearer;— 
 then I love liiee. 
 Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st 
 Flinty mankind ; whose eyes do never give. 
 But tliorougli lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping: 
 Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with 
 weeping ! 
 
 Flav. i beg of you to know me, good my lord, 
 Toacceptmygrief.and will 1st this poor wealth lasts, 
 To entertain me as your steward still. 
 
 Tim. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now 
 So comfortable ? It almost turns 
 My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold 
 Thy lace.— Surely, this man was born of woman. 
 Forgive my generous and exceptless rashness, 
 Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim 
 One honest man,— mistake me not, — but one; 
 No more, I pray, — and he is a steward. — 
 How fain would I have hated all mankind, 
 And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee, 
 I lell with curses. 
 
 Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise 
 For, by oppressing and betraying me, 
 Thou "mightst have sooner got another service : 
 For many so arrive at second masters. 
 Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, 
 (For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,) 
 Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous. 
 If not a usu ring kindness: and as rich men deal gifts, 
 Expecting in return twenty for one? 
 
 Flav. No, my most wortliy master, in whose breast 
 Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late : 
 You should have fear'd false times, when you did 
 
 feast : 
 Suspect still comes where an estate is least. 
 That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love. 
 Duty, and zeal to your unmatched mind, 
 Care of your food and living; and, believe it. 
 My most honor'd lord. 
 For any benefit that points to me. 
 Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange 
 For this one wish. That you liad power and wealth 
 To requite me, by making rich yourself. 
 
 Tim. Lookthee,'iissoI — Tliousingly honest man. 
 Here, take: — the gods out of my misery 
 Have sent me treasure. Go, live rich, and happy • 
 But thus condition'd ; Thou shalt build from mcn:^ 
 Hate all, curse all ; show cliarjty to none; 
 But let the famish'd llesh slide from the bone. 
 Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs 
 What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 
 
 them. 
 Debts wither them : Be men like blasted woods, 
 And may diseases lick up their false bloods! 
 And so farewell, and thrive. 
 
 Flav. 0, let me stay, 
 
 And comfort you, my master. 
 
 Tim. If thou hat'st 
 
 Curses, stay not; fly, whilst thou art bless'd and 
 
 free : 
 Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see Ihee. 
 
 lExeuni severally. 
 
 • Away from human habitation. 
 
542 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act v. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE 1.— Before Timon's Cave. 
 Enter Poet and Pairucr; TiMON btkind, unseen. 
 
 Fain. As I look note of the place, it cannot be 
 far wlicre he abides. 
 
 Puet. What's to be thought of him ? Does the 
 rumor hold for true, that he is so full of gold ? 
 
 Pom. Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia 
 and Timandra had gold of him; he hkewise en- 
 riched poor straggling soldiers with great (juanlity : 
 Tis said he gave unto his steward a miglity sum. 
 
 Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a 
 try for his friends ! 
 
 Pain, ^fothing else : you shall see him a palm 
 in Alliens again, and llourish with the highest. 
 Therefore, 'tis not amiss we tender our loves to 
 him, in this supposed distress of his: it will show 
 honeslly in us.; and is very likely to load our pur- 
 poses with what they travel for, if it he a just and 
 true report that goes of his having. 
 
 Poti. What have you now to present unto him? 
 
 Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation : 
 only I will promise him an excellent piece. 
 
 P«f/. 1 must serve him so too; tell him of an 
 intent that's coming toward him. 
 
 Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very 
 air o the time : it opens the eyes of expectation : 
 performance is ever the duller for his act ; and, but 
 in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed 
 of sayings is quite out of use. To promise is most 
 courtly and fashionable : performance is a kind of 
 will^or testament, which argues a greatsickness in 
 his judgment that makes it. 
 
 Tim. Excellent workman ! Thou canst not 
 paint a man so bad as is thyself 
 
 Poet. I am thinking what I shall say I have pro- 
 vided for him: It must be a personating of him- 
 self: a satire against the softness ofprosperity; with 
 a discovery of the inlinite llattenes, that follow 
 youth and opulency. 
 
 TUa. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine 
 own work? Wilt thou whip tliine own fault» in 
 otiier men ? Do so. I have gold tor thee. 
 
 Poet. Nay, let's seek liiin: 
 Then do we sin against our own estate. 
 When we may profit meet, and come too late. 
 
 Pain. True; 
 When the day serves, before black-corner'd nigJit, 
 find what thou want'st, by free and oller'd ligl/t. 
 Come. 
 
 Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's 
 gold. 
 That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple, 
 Than where swine iised ! 
 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough's! the 
 
 tbam ; 
 Settlest admired reverence in a slave : 
 To thee be worship ! and thy saints for aye 
 He crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey ! 
 Eit 1 do meet them. [Acii'an'cine. 
 
 Poet. Hail, worthy Timon ! 
 
 Pain. Our late noble master. 
 
 Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honest mmi ! 
 
 Poet. Sir, 
 Having often of your open bounty tasted. 
 Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n ofl, 
 Whose thankless natures — abhorred spirits .' 
 Not all the whips of heaven are large enough— 
 What ! to you ! 
 
 Whose slar-like nobleness gave life and influence 
 To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot aover 
 The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude 
 With any size of words. 
 
 Tim. Let it go naked, men may sec't the better : 
 You, that are honest by being what you are, 
 Make tiiem best seen, and known. 
 
 „^'"".'' „.j , He, and myself, 
 
 Have travell d in the great shower of your gitls. 
 And sweetly felt it. jo, 
 
 '{}'"■ ,,. . . ^y, you "e honest men. 
 
 Pain. We arc hither come to oiler you our 
 service. i 
 
 • The loing of what we said we would Jo. 
 
 Tim. Most honest men ! Why, how shall I re- 
 quite you ? 
 Can you eat roots, and drink cold water ! no. 
 
 Bo'tti. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. 
 
 Tim. You are honest men : you have heard that 
 I have gold : 
 I am sure you have: speak truth : you are honest 
 men. 
 
 Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore 
 Came not my friend, nor I. 
 
 Tim. Good honest men :— Thou draw'st a coun- 
 terfeit! 
 Rest in all Athens ; thou art, indeed, the best; 
 Thou counterfeit'st most lively. 
 
 Pain. ' So, so, my lord. 
 
 Tim. Even so, sir, as I say :— And for thy fiction, 
 
 [To//ie Poet. 
 Why.thy verse swells with stufl'so fine and smooth, 
 That thou art even natural m thine art.— 
 But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, 
 I must needs say, you have a little fault: 
 Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I, 
 You take much pains to mend. 
 
 Bot/i. Beseech your honor, 
 
 To make it known to us. 
 
 Tim. You'll take it ill. 
 
 Bol/i.. Most thankfully, my lord. 
 
 Tim. ' Will you, indeed? 
 
 Biil/i. Doubt it not, worthy lord. 
 
 Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a 
 knave. 
 That mightily deceives you. 
 
 Biit/i. Do we, my lord ? 
 
 Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dis- 
 semble, 
 Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, 
 Keep in your bosom : yet remain assor'd, 
 That he's a made-up villain.^ 
 
 Pain. I know none such, my lord. 
 
 Poet. Nor I. 
 
 Tint. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you 
 gold. 
 Rid me these villains from your companies: 
 Hang Ihem, or stab them, drown them in a draught, 
 Coiilbund them by some course, and coma to me, 
 1 II give you gold enough. 
 
 Bolli. Name them, my lord, let's know them. 
 
 Tim. You that way, and you this, but two m 
 company : — 
 Each man apart, all single and alone, 
 Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. 
 If, where thou art, two villains shall not be, 
 
 [To Mf Painter. 
 Come not near him.— If thou wouldst not reside 
 
 „ . u .„ . . [Td Me Poet. 
 
 But where one villain is, then him abandon.— 
 Hence ! pack ! tliere's gold, ye came tor gold, ye 
 
 slaves. 
 You have done work for me, there's payment: 
 
 Hence '. 
 You are an alchemist, make gold of that: 
 Out, rascal dogs ! 
 
 [ Exit, beating and driving them out. 
 
 SCENE II.— ne some. 
 Enter Flavios, and two Senators. 
 
 F/«!i. It is in vain that you would speak wilb 
 Timon ; 
 For he is set so only to himselt; 
 That nothing but himself, which looks like man. 
 Is Inendly with him. 
 
 ' *". Bring us to his cave : 
 
 It IS our part, and promise to the Athenians, 
 To speak with Timon. 
 
 2 Sen. At all times alike 
 
 Men are not still the same: 'Twas time, and grieft 
 That darned him thus: time, with Ills lairer hand 
 Olreriiig the forlunes of his former days. 
 The lormer man may make him : Bring us to mm 
 And chance it as it may. 
 
 * A portrait was so called. 
 
 ^ A complete, a finLshed villain. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 543 
 
 Flav. Here is his cave. — 
 
 Peace and content be here ! Lord Timon ! Tirnon ! 
 Lool\ out, and speak to friends : TJie Athenians, 
 By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee : 
 Speali to them, noble Timon. 
 
 JCnter Timon. 
 
 Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! — Speak, 
 and be hang'd : 
 For each true word, a blister! and each false 
 Be as a caut'rizing to the root o* the tongue, 
 Consuming it with speaking ! 
 
 1 Sen. Worthy Timon — 
 Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. 
 
 2 Sen. ThesenatorsofAthcnsgreettlice, Timon. 
 Tim. I tiiank them ; and would send them back 
 
 the plague. 
 Could I but catch it for them. 
 
 1 Sen. 0, forget 
 What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. 
 The senators, with one consent of love. 
 Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought 
 On special dignities, which vacant lie 
 
 For thy best use and wearing. 
 
 2 Se/i. They confess. 
 Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross : 
 Which now ihe public body,— which doth seldom 
 Play the recanter,— feeling in itself 
 
 A hick of Timon's aid, hath sense withal 
 
 Of Its own lall, restraimng aid to Timon: 
 
 And send Ibrth us, to make their sorrow'd render,' 
 
 Together with a recompense more Ituitful 
 
 Tlian their otlence can weigh down by the dram ; 
 
 A> , even such heaps and sums of love and wealth, 
 
 Ae sliall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs, 
 
 And write iii tliee tlie ligures of their love, 
 
 Ever to read them thine. 
 
 Tim. You witch me in it; 
 
 Surprise me to the very brink of tears : 
 Lend me a Ibul's Jieart, and a woman's eyes. 
 And I'll beweei) these conilbrts, worthy senators. 
 
 1 Sen. Tliereiorc, so iilia.sc ihee to return with us, 
 And ol our Alliens, (tlune, and ours,) to take 
 The ewlltaln^lllp, tliou shall be met with thanks, 
 Allow'iH Willi absolute ]iower, and thy good name 
 Live with autljorit}' ; — so soon we shall drive back 
 Of Alcibiades the approaches wild; 
 
 Who, like a boar loo savage, doth root up 
 Llis country's peace. 
 
 2 Sen. And shakes his thrcat'ning sword 
 Against the walls of Athens. 
 
 1 Sen. Therefore, Timon,— 
 
 Tim. Well, sir, I will; therelbre, 1 will, sir; 
 Thus, — 
 If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, 
 Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, 
 Thai— Timon cares not. Butif he sack fair Athens, 
 And take our goodly aged men by the beards, 
 Giving our holy virgins to the stain 
 Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war; 
 Then, let him know,— and tell liini, Timon speaks it. 
 In pity of our aged, and our youth, 
 I cannot choose but tell him, that— I care not, 
 And let him take't at worst; lor their knives care 
 
 not 
 While you have throats to answer: for myself, 
 There's not a whitlles in the unruly camp. 
 But 1 do prize it at my love, belbre 
 The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you 
 To the protection of the prosperousi> gods, 
 As thieves to keepers. 
 
 Flav. Stay not, all's in vain. 
 
 Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph. 
 It will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness 
 Of lieallli, and living, now begins to mend, 
 Anil iiutliing brings me all things. Go, live still ; 
 Be Aleibiades your plague, you his, 
 And last so long enough ! 
 
 1 Sen. We speak in vain. 
 
 Tim. But yet I love my country; and am not 
 One that rejoices in the common wreck. 
 As common bruif doth put it. 
 
 1 &'"• That's well spoke. 
 Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen,— 
 J iSen. These words become your lipsas they pass 
 
 through them. 
 
 2 Se7i. And enter in our ears like great triiimphers 
 In their applauding gates. 
 
 ' Confession. 
 A clasp knife. 
 
 * Licensed, uncontrolled. 
 « Fropitious. i lleport, rumor. 
 
 Tim. Commend me to them ; 
 
 And tell them, that to ease them of their griels. 
 Their tears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses. 
 Their pangs of love, with other incident throes 
 That iiature's fragile vessel doth sustain 
 In life's uncertain voj age, I will some kindness do 
 
 them ; 
 I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. 
 
 2 Sen. 1 like this well, he will return again. 
 
 Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my close, 
 That mine own use invites me to cut down. 
 And shortly must I fell it : Tell my friends, 
 Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree. 
 From high to low throughout, that wlioso please 
 To stop aliliction, let him take his haste. 
 Come hither, ere my tree hath felt Ihe a.xe. 
 And hang hinisell :— I pray you, do my greeting. 
 
 Flav. Trouble hira uo further, thus you still shall 
 find him. 
 
 Tim. Come not to nie again: but say to Athens, . 
 Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 
 Upon tile beached verge of the salt Hood; 
 Which once a day with his embossed froth 
 The turbulent surge shall cover ; thither come, 
 ,Vnd let mj- grave-stone be your oracle. — 
 Lips, let sour words go by, and language end: 
 What is amiss, plague and infection mend ! 
 Graves only be men's works; and death, their gain ! 
 Sun, hide thy beams ! Timon hath done his reign! 
 
 [Fx-it Timon. 
 
 1 Sen. His discontents arc unremovably 
 Coupled to nature. 
 
 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead : let us return, 
 .\nd strain what other means is left unto us 
 
 In our dear' peril. 
 1 Sen. It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— The Walls ef Alhens. 
 Enter two Senators, and a Messenger. 
 
 1 Sen. Thouhastpainfullydiscovered;arehisfacs 
 As full as thy report \ 
 
 Mexs. I have spoke the least : 
 
 Besides, his expedition promises 
 Present ajiproach. 
 
 2 Sen. We stand much hazard, if they bring not 
 
 Timon. 
 Mes. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend ;— 
 Whom, though in general part we were oppos'({, 
 Yet our old love made a particular force. 
 And made us speak like friends : — this man ^^^a 
 
 riding 
 From Alcibiades to Timon's cave. 
 With letters of entreaty, which imported 
 His lellowship i' the cause against your citv. 
 In part lor his sake mov'd. 
 
 Enter Senators/rom Timon. 
 
 1 Sen. Here come our brothers. 
 
 2 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him ex- 
 
 pect. — 
 The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring 
 Doth choke the air with dust: In and prepare ; 
 Ours is the liill, 1 fear ; our Ibes, the snare. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE l\.—The Woods. Timon's Cave, and a 
 
 Tumb'Stune seen. 
 
 Enter a Soldier, seeking Timok. 
 
 Sol. By all description this should be the place. 
 
 Who's here! speak, ho !— No answer ?— What is 
 
 this 1. 
 Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span : 
 Some beast rear'd this ; there does not live a man. 
 Dead, sure ; and this his grave. 
 Vyiiafs on this tomb I cannot read ; the character 
 I'll take with wax. 
 
 Our captain hath in every figure skill ; 
 An aged interpreter, though young in days: 
 Belbre proud Athens he's set down by tlus. 
 Whose liill the mark of his ambition is. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE \. -Before the Walls of Alliens. 
 
 Trumpets sounded. Enter Alcibiades and Forces. 
 
 AlciU. Sound to this coward and lascivious town 
 
 Our terrible approach. [A Parley sounded. 
 
 Enter Senators on the Wails. 
 Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the tmie 
 » Dreadlul. 
 
544 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act V. Scene V. 
 
 With all licentious measure, making your wills 
 The scope of justice; till now, myself, and such 
 As slept within the shadow of your power, 
 Have wandered with our travers'd arms.s and 
 
 breath'd 
 Our sufferance vainly; Now the time is flush,' 
 When crouchins mairow, in the bearer strong, 
 Cries, of itself, Xn mare: now breathless wrong 
 Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease ; 
 And pursy insolence shall break his wind, 
 With fear and horrid flight. 
 
 1 Sen. Noble and young, 
 When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit. 
 Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of fear. 
 We sent to thee ; to give thy rages balm, 
 
 To wipe out our ingratitude with loves 
 Above their quantity. 
 
 2 Sen. So did we woo 
 Transformed Timon to our city's love. 
 
 By humble message, and by promis'd means ; 
 We were not all unkind, nor all deserve 
 The common stroke of war. 
 
 1 Sen. These walls of ours 
 Were not erected by their hands, from whom 
 You have recciv'd your griefs: nor are they such, 
 Tliat these great towers,trophies, and schoolsshould 
 
 fall 
 For private faults in them. 
 
 2 Sen. Nor are they living 
 Wlio were the motives that you first went out; 
 Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess 
 Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, 
 Into our city with thy banners spread : 
 
 By decimation, and a tithed death, 
 
 (If tliy revenges hunger for that food. 
 
 Winch naturc'loathes.) take thou the dcstin d tenth; 
 
 And by the hazard of the spotted die, 
 
 Let die the spotted. 
 
 1 Sen. All have not offended ; 
 For those that were, it is not square- to take. 
 On those that are, revenges : crimes, like lands, 
 Arc not iiiheiiled. Then, dear countryman, 
 liririi; in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage: 
 Spin' Ihy Allicni^in cradle, and those kin. 
 Which, I'n the bluster ol Iliy wralli, must fall 
 With those that have olH-uded : like a shepherd, 
 Approach the told, and cull the iiilocted forth, 
 But kill not all together. 
 
 "2 Sen. What thou wilt. 
 
 Thou rather slialt enforce it with thy smile, 
 1 nan hew to't with thy sword. 
 
 2 i,en. Set but thy foot 
 
 • JLrmE across. ' Mature. " Not regular, not equitable. 
 
 Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope , 
 So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before. 
 To say, thou'lt enter friendly. 
 
 2 Sen. Throw thy glove ; 
 
 Or any token of thine honor else, 
 That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress. 
 And not as our confusion, all thy powers 
 Shall make their harbor in our town, till we 
 Have seal'd thy full desire. 
 
 Alcib. Then there's my glove ; 
 
 Descend, and open your uncharged ports ;3 
 Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own. 
 Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof, 
 Fall, and no more : and, — to atone^ your fears 
 With my more noble meaning.— not a man 
 Shall pass his quarter, or ofJend the stream 
 Of regular justice in your city's bounds. 
 But shall be remedied, to your public laws 
 At heaviest answer. 
 
 Bolh,. 'Tis most nobly spoken. 
 
 Alcili. Descend, and keep your words. 
 
 [ The Senators descend, and upen the Gales. 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 
 Sol. My noble general, Timon is dead ; 
 Entomb'd upon tlie very hem o' the sea ; 
 And on his gravestone, this insculpture ; which 
 With wax I brought away, whose soft impression 
 Interprets for my poor ignorance. 
 Alcib. [Reads.] Here lies a wretched caise, of 
 
 Ivretched soul bereft : 
 Seek not my name : A plague consume you nncked 
 
 cailifs left ! 
 Here tie I. timon; who, alive, all living mtn did 
 
 hate : 
 Pass by. and curse t try fill; but pass, and stay not 
 
 here thy gui/. 
 These well express in thee thy latter spirits: 
 Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human giiefs, 
 Scorn 'dst our brain's flow, and those our dioplets 
 
 which 
 From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit 
 Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep foi aj • 
 On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead 
 Is noble Timon; of whose memory 
 Hereafter more.— Bring me into your city, 
 And I will use the olive with my sword: 
 Make war breed peace; make peace stint^war; 
 
 make each ^ 
 
 Prescribe to other, as each other s leech.s 
 Let our drums strike. [Exeunt. 
 
 • Unattacked gates. 
 » Stop. 
 
 * Reconcile. 
 
 • rhysiciao. 
 
COEIOLANUS. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 CAirs Marcius Coriolancs, a noble Roman. 
 CiHUNius!""'^''' j (^•cnerals against the Volscians. 
 Mk.nenius Agrip7>a, Friend to Coriolanus. 
 
 Young Marcius, Sou to Coriolanus. 
 
 A Roman Herald. 
 
 TfLLis AiFiDira, General (if the Volscians. 
 
 Lieutenant to Aiifidius. 
 
 Coiit^pirators witli Autidius. 
 
 A Citizen r/Antium. 
 Two Voiscian Guards, 
 
 VOLI-MXIA. Mother to Coriolanus. 
 ViKtiii.iA, Wife to Coriolanus. 
 Valeria, Friend to Vir^ilia. 
 Gentlewoman attending Virgilia. 
 
 Roman and Voiscian Senators, Patricians, Mdiles, 
 I.ictors. Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants 
 to Autidius, and other Attendants, 
 
 SCENE, purlly in Rome, and partly in the Territories of the Volscians and Antiales. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 it. We are accounted poor citizens ; the pa- 
 ns, eood :' What authority surfeits on, would 
 
 SCENE I.— Rome. A Street. 
 Enter a Company of mufimnts Citizens, with 
 Staves, Ciiibs, and other U'eajxms. 
 I at. Before we proceed any further, hear me 
 
 speak". 
 at. Speak, speak. [Several speaking at once. 
 1 at. You are resolved rather to die than to 
 famish ? 
 at. Resolved, resolved. 
 
 1 at. First, you know, Caius Marcius is chief 
 enemy to the people. ■ 
 at. We know't, we know't. 
 
 1 at. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at 
 our own price. Is't a verdict? 
 
 at. Komore talking on't; let it be done: away, 
 away. 
 
 2 tit. One word, good citizens. 
 
 1 at. '" 
 trician; 
 
 relieve us: If they would yield us but the super- 
 thiity. while it were wholesome, we might guess, 
 they relieved us humanely ! but they think, we are 
 too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object 
 of our misery, is an inventory to particularize their 
 abundance; our sullerance is a gain to them. — 
 Let U-: -".venge this with our pikes, ere we become 
 rakes :2 for the gods know, I speak this in hunger 
 for bread, not in thirst for revenge. 
 
 2 at. Would you proceed especially against 
 Ciins Marcius ? 
 
 at. Against him first; he's a very dog to the 
 coninionalty. 
 
 2 at. Consider you what services he has done 
 for his country] 
 
 1 at. Very well ; and could be content to give 
 him good report for't, but that he pays himself 
 with being proud. 
 
 2 at. Nay, but speak not maliciously. 
 
 1 CU. I say unto you, what he hath done famously, 
 he did it to that end : though soft conscienced men 
 can be content to say it was for his country, he did 
 it to please iiis mother, and to be partly proud; 
 which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue. 
 * Rich. ^ Thin as rakes. 
 
 35 
 
 2 at. What he cannot help in his nature, you 
 account a vice in him: You must in no way say, 
 he is covetous. 
 
 1 at. If I must not, I need not be barren of 
 accusations ; he hath faults with surplus, to tire in 
 repetition. [Skaiifs with in. ]\^ hat shouts 3.tc these? 
 The other side o' the cily is risen : Why stay we 
 prating here ? To the Capitol. 
 
 at. Come, come. 
 
 1 at. Soft; who comes here 1 
 
 Enter Menenics Agrippa. 
 
 2 a/. Worthy Menenius Agrippa: one that hath 
 always loved tlie people. 
 
 I at. He's one honest enough ; 'Would, all the 
 rest were so ! 
 
 Men. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? 
 Where go you 
 With bats and clubs ! The matter speak, I pray you. 
 
 1 at. Our business is not unknown to the senate; 
 Tiiey have had inkling, this fortnight, wliat we in- 
 tend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. 
 They say, poor suitors have strong breaths; they 
 shall know, we have strong arms too. 
 
 Meji. Why, masters, my good friends, mine h^ 
 nest neighbors, 
 Will you undo yourselves? 
 
 1 at. We cannot, sir, we are undone already. 
 
 Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable carfl 
 Have the patricians of you. For your wants, 
 Your sulfering In this dearth, you may as well 
 Strike at the heaven with your staves, as litl them 
 Against the Roman state ; whose course will on 
 The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs 
 Of more strong link asunder, than can ever 
 Appear in your impediment: For the dearth, 
 The gods, not the patricians, make it ; and 
 Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, 
 You are transported by calamity 
 Thither where more attends you : and you slander 
 The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers, 
 When you curse them as enemies. 
 
 1 at. Care for us! — True, indeed ! — They ne'er 
 cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their 
 storehouses crammed with grain ; make edicts for 
 
 545 
 
546 
 
 COKIOLANUS. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 usury to support usurers ^repeal daily any whole- 
 some act established against the rich ; and provide 
 more piercing statutes daily, to chain up and re- 
 strain tlie poor. If the wars eat us not uii, they 
 will ; and there's all the love they bear us. 
 
 Men. Either you must 
 Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, 
 Or be accus'd of folly. 1 shall lell you 
 A pretty tale ; it may be, you have heard it ; 
 liiit, since it serves my purpose, I will venture 
 To scale'ts a little more. 
 
 1 Ci/. Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not 
 think to fob otf our disgrace with a tale : but, au't 
 please yon, deliver. 
 Men.' There was a time when all the body's 
 members 
 Robell'd against the belly ; thus accus'd it :— 
 That only like a gulf it did reniain 
 r the midst o' the body, idle and inactive. 
 Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing 
 Like labor with the rest; where-" the other instru- 
 ments 
 Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, 
 And, mutually participate, did nnnister 
 Unto the appetite and afleclion commoir 
 Of the whole body. The belly answered,— 
 1 at. Well, sir, what answer made the belly 1 
 Men. Sir, I shall tell you.— With a kind of smile, 
 Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus, 
 (For, look you, I may make the belly smile, 
 As well as speak,) it tauntingly replied 
 To the discontented members, the mutinous parts 
 That envied his receipt ; even so most titlyS 
 As you malign our senators, for that 
 Thev are not such as you. 
 
 1 Cit. Your belly's answer: WhatI 
 
 The kingly-crowned-head, the vigilant eye. 
 The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier. 
 Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, 
 With other muniments and petty helps 
 In this our fabric, if that they — — 
 
 Men. What then ? 
 
 'Fore me. this fellow speaks !— What then !— what 
 thenl 
 1 Cif. Should by the cormorant body be re- 
 strain'd. 
 
 Who is the sink o' the body, 
 
 Men. Well, what then? 
 
 1 Cif. The former agents, if they did complain. 
 What could the belly answer 1 
 
 Men. I will tell yon; 
 
 If you'll bestow a small (of what you have' lillle) 
 Fa'tience, a while, you'll hear the belly's answer. 
 1 Ci7. You are long abonl it. 
 Men. Note me ll<is. gooil friend ; 
 Your most grave belly was deliberate. 
 Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered : 
 True w il, my incorjicrate friends, quoth he, 
 Tkat I receive the general foad ut first, 
 Which i/ou do Hoe upon : and fit it is ; 
 Because I am the storelmuse, and the shop 
 Of the irhcle bodii : Bui if you do remember, 
 I send it througli the rivers of your Ijlvod, 
 Even to the court, the heart.— to the seat o' the brain; 
 Anil, through the crantt.',^ and ofiices of man. 
 The strongest nerves, ami small inferior reins, 
 ■From me receive that natural cinii/icteiicy 
 Whereby theii live : And though that all at once. 
 You, my good friends, (this .says the belly,) mark 
 "me, — 
 1 at. Ay, sir; well, well. 
 
 Men. Though nil at once cannot 
 
 ^ee what I do deliver out to each ; 
 Yet I can. make my audit up, that all 
 From me do back receive thefViur of all, ^ 
 
 And leave me but t/ie bran. What say you to 1 7 
 I at. It-was an answer. How apply you thist 
 Men. The senators ofRome are this goodly belly, 
 ' And you the mutinous members: For examine 
 Theircounsels.and their cares; digest things rightly- 
 Touching the weal o' the common ; you shall hud. 
 No public benefit which you receive. 
 But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you, 
 And no way from yourselves. — Whatdo you think? 
 •You,-the gieattoe of this assembly ! — 
 
 1 Cit. I the great toe ! Why the great toe 1 
 Men. For that being one o' the lowest, basest, 
 poorest, 
 
 « Irpread it. * Whereas. • Exactly. •Winding.'!. 
 
 Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: 
 Thou rascal, that art worst in blood, to run 
 Lead'st first, to win some vantage. — 
 But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs; 
 Rome and her rats are at the point of battle. 
 The one side must have bale.' Hail,nobh- Warcius! 
 
 Enter CAirs Marcius. 
 Mar. Thanks. — What's the matter, joudisseii- 
 tinus rogues. 
 That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion. 
 Make yourselves scabs ? 
 I at. We have ever your good word. 
 
 Mar. He that will give good words to thee, will 
 flatter 
 Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you 
 
 curs, 
 That like nor peace,norwar'! the one affrights you, 
 The other makes you proud. He that trusts you. 
 Where he should find you lions, finds you hares ; 
 Where foxes, geese : You are no surer, no, 
 Than is the coal of fire upon the ice. 
 Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, 
 TO make him worthy, w-hose otli?nce subdues him. 
 And curse that justice did it. Who deserves great- 
 ness. 
 Deserves your hate: and your afiections are 
 A .sick man's appetite, who desires most that 
 Which would increase his evil. He that depends 
 Upon your favors, swims with fins of lead, 
 And hews down oaks with rushes. Flang ye! 
 
 Trust ye ! 
 With every minute you do change a mind ; 
 And call him noble, that was now your hate. 
 Him vile, that was your garland. What's the 
 
 matter. 
 That in these several places of Hie city 
 You cry against the noble senate, who. 
 Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else 
 Would feed on one another ■!— What's their seeking! 
 Men. For corn at their own rates ; whereof, they 
 say. 
 The city is well stor'd. 
 
 Mar. Hang em ! They say ? 
 
 They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know 
 What's done'i' the Capilol : who's like to rise. 
 Who thrives, and who declines: side factions, and 
 
 give out 
 Conieetural marriages; making parlies strong. 
 Ami fcebling such as stand not in their liking. 
 Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain 
 
 enough 1 
 Would the nobility lay aside their ruth.s 
 ,\nd let me use my sword, I'd maki^ a quarry^ 
 With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high 
 As I could pick' my lance. 
 Men. Nay, these are 'almost thoroughly per- 
 suaded ; 
 For though abundantly they lack discretion. 
 Yet are they passing cowardly. But 1 beseech you. 
 What says the other troop ! 
 
 Mar. They are dissolved :Hang em! 
 
 They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth pro- 
 verbs ;— 
 That, hunger broke stone walls; that,dogs must eat; 
 That, meat was made for mouths ; that, the gods 
 
 sent not 
 Corn for the rich men only :— With these shreds 
 They vented their complainings; which being 
 
 answer'd, 
 And a petition granted them, a strange one, 
 (To bre:ik llu- In-art of generosity, 
 And make bold power look pale,) they threw theit 
 
 caps , 
 
 As they would hang them on the hornso the moon. 
 Shouting their emulation.- 
 Men. What is granted them i 
 
 Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulf ar wis- 
 doms, 
 Of their own choice: One's Junius Brutus, 
 Sicinius Velutus, and I know not— 'Sdeath ! 
 The rabble should have first unrool d the city. 
 Ere so prevail'd with me : it will in lime 
 Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes 
 For insurrection's arguing. 
 Men. This is strnnge. 
 
 Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments ! 
 
 'Dane. • I'ily, compassion. • Heap of de.-id. 
 
 1 Pitch. " ^ Faction. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 547 
 
 Enfer a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Where's Caius Marcius ? 
 
 Alar. Here: what's the matter? 
 
 Mess. The news is, sir, the Voices arc in arms. 
 
 Mar. I am glad on't, then we shall have means 
 to vent 
 Our musty supcrlluity : — See, oil'- best ciders, 
 Ent. CoMisu'S, TiTCS Lartius, a7id other Senators ; 
 Junius Buutus, and Sicinius Velutus. 
 
 ] Sen. Marcius, 'tis true, that you have lately 
 told us ; 
 Tlie Voices are in arms. 
 
 Mar. They have a leader, 
 
 Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. 
 I sin in envying his nobility : 
 And were I any thing but what I am, 
 I would wish mc only lie. 
 
 Com. You have fought together. 
 
 Alar. Were half to half the world by the ears, 
 and he 
 Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make 
 Only my wars with him: he is a lion 
 Th'Jt I am proud to hunt. 
 
 1 iSVrt. Then, worthy Marcius, 
 
 Attend upon Cominius to these wars. 
 
 Com. It is your former promise. 
 
 Mar. Sir, it is; 
 
 And I am constant. — Titus Lartius, thou 
 Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face : 
 What, art thou stiti*! stand'st out? 
 
 Tit. No. Cains Marcius; 
 
 I'll loan upon one crutch, and fight with the other, 
 Ere stay beliind tliis business ! 
 
 Men. O, true bred ! 
 
 1 Se7i. Your company to the Capitol; where, I 
 know. 
 Our greatest friends attend us. 
 
 Tit. Lead you on : 
 
 Follow, Cominius ; wo must follow you ; 
 Right worthy your priority. 
 
 Com. Noble Lartius ! 
 
 1 Sen. Hence ! to your homes, be gone. 
 
 [To the Citizens. 
 
 Mar. Nay, let Ibem follow: 
 
 TbeVolces have much corn ; take these rats thither, 
 To gnaw their garners :3 — Worshipful mutineers, 
 Your valor puts well forth; pray, follow. 
 
 [Exeunt Senators, Cum., Mak., Tit., mid 
 Mknkn. Citizens steal away. 
 
 Sic, Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius 1 
 
 Bru. He has no equal. 
 
 Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the 
 people, 
 
 Brii. Mark'd you his lip, and eyes? 
 
 Sic. ^ Nay, but his taunts. 
 
 Jirti. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird* the 
 gods. 
 
 Sic. Bemock the modest moon. 
 
 Bru. The present wars devour him : he is grown 
 Tod proud to be so valiant. 
 
 Sic. Such a nature, 
 
 Tickled with good success, disdains the siiadow 
 Which he treads on at noon : But I do wonder, 
 His insolence can brook to be commanded 
 Under Cominius. 
 
 Bru. Fame, at the which he aims, — 
 
 In whom already he is well graced, — cannot 
 Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by 
 A jilace below the first: for what miscarries 
 Shall be the general's fault, though he periiirm 
 To the utmost of a man ; and giddy censure 
 Will then cry out of Marcius, 0,ijhe 
 Had home the business ! 
 
 Sic. Besides, if things go well. 
 
 Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall 
 01 his demerits^ rob Cominius. 
 
 Bru. Come : 
 
 Half all Cominius* honors are to Marcius, 
 Tliough Marcius earn'd them not: and all his 
 
 fiiuUs 
 To Marcius shall be honors, though, indeed, 
 In aught he merit not. 
 
 Sic. Let's hence, and hear 
 
 How the despatch is made; and in what fashion. 
 More than in singularity, he goes 
 Upon Ins present action. 
 
 Bru. Let's along. [Exeunt. 
 
 ' Oi-aoaries. « Snoer. 
 
 ^ Ltumerits and merits had anciently the same meaning. 
 
 SCENE IL— Corioli. The Senate House. 
 Enfer Tullus Aufidius, and certain Senators. 
 
 1 Sen. So, your opinion is,''Aufidius, 
 That they of Rome are enter'd in our councils, 
 And know how we proceed. 
 
 At/f. Is it not yours ? 
 
 What ever hath been thought on in this state, 
 Tliat could be brought to bodily act, ere Rome 
 Had circumvention ? 'Tis not'four days gone. 
 Since 1 heard thence; these are the words: I think 
 I have the letter here; yes, here it is: [Reads. 
 
 They have pres.'Cd a power, but it is not kmnvfi 
 Whether for east, or west : The dearth vi ^reat ; 
 The people mutinous : and it is rumored, 
 Cominius, Marcius, your old enemy, 
 { IVfio j.s of Rome worse hated than of you,) 
 And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, 
 These three lead on thus preparation 
 IVhither 'tis bent: most likely., tis for you: 
 Consider of it. 
 
 1 Sen. Our army's in the field : 
 
 We never yet made doubt that Rome was ready 
 To answer us. 
 
 Auf, Nor (lid you think it folly. 
 
 To keep your great pn-ti-nces vril'd. till when 
 They needs must show Ihumselves ; whicli in the 
 
 hatching. 
 It seem'd, appeared to Rome. By the discovery, 
 We shall be shortcn'd in our aim ; which was. 
 To take in'^ many towns, ere, almost, Rome 
 Should know we were afoot. 
 
 2 Sen. Noble Aufidius, 
 Take your commission ; hie you to your bands: 
 Let us alone to guard Corioli': 
 
 If they set down before us, for the remove 
 Bring up your army ; but, I think, you'll find 
 They liave not piepur'd for us. 
 
 Auf. 0, doubt not that; 
 
 I speak from certainties. Nay, more. 
 Some parcels of their powers are forth already, 
 And only hitherward. I leave your honors. 
 If we and Cains IMarcius chance to meet, 
 'Tis sworn between us we sliall never strike 
 Till one can do no more. 
 
 All. The gods assist you ! 
 
 Auf. And keep your honors safe ! 
 
 1 Sen. Farewell. 
 
 2 Stn. Farewell. 
 All, Farewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III,— Rome. An Apartment in Mar- 
 cius' House. 
 
 Enter Volumnlv and ViRcarA: They sit down 
 on two low stools; and sew. 
 
 Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express your- 
 self in a more comlorlable sort. If my son were 
 my hns[)and,I shouhl iVeelierrejoiceinlhatahsence 
 wticrein he won honor, tlian in the cmbracements 
 of his bed, where lie would show most love. — 
 When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only 
 son of my womb; when youth with comehness 
 plucked all gaze his way; when for a day of kiniis' 
 entreaties, a mother should not sell him ah hour 
 from her beJiolding; I, — considering how honor 
 would become such a i>erson ; that it was no better 
 than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown 
 made it not stir, — was pleased to let him seek dan- 
 ger where he was like to find lame. To a cruel war 
 1 sent liini; I'rom whence he returned, his brows 
 bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, — I sprang 
 not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, 
 than now, in first seeing he had proved himself a 
 man. 
 
 Vir. But had he died in the business, jiadam, 
 how then I 
 
 Vol. Then his good report should have bi^en my 
 son ; I therein would have found issue. Hear me 
 piolhss sincerely: Had I a dozen sons, — each in 
 my love alike, and none less dear than tliineand my 
 good Marcius, — 1 had rnlher had eleven die nobly 
 for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out 
 of action. 
 
 Enter a Gentlewoman. 
 
 Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit 
 
 you. 
 Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. 
 « To subdue. 
 
548 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Vol. Indeed you .shall not. 
 Melhinks, 1 hear hither your husband's drum; 
 See him pluek Aufldm.s down by the hair; 
 As children froma bcur, the Voices sluinning him: 
 Methinks I see hiin stamp thus, and call thus, — 
 Come (ni, you cowards, you were ^ot in fear. 
 Though you were bom m Rome : His bloody brow 
 With his maii'd hand then wipin;;. forth he goes 
 Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow 
 Or nil, or lose his hire. 
 
 Vir. His bloody brow! 0, Jupiter, no blood ! 
 
 Vol. Away, you fool ! it piore becomes a man, 
 Than gilt' his trophy : The breasts of Hecuba, 
 When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier 
 Than Hector's Ion lir;iil, when it spit Ibrth blood 
 At Grecian swords' contending. — Tell Valeria, 
 We are tit to bid her welcome. [k.rit Gent. 
 
 Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Autidius ! 
 
 Vol. He'll beat Autidius' head below his knee, 
 And tread upon his neck. 
 
 Re-enter Gentlewoman, wUk Valeria and her 
 Usher. 
 
 Val. My ladies both, good day to you. 
 
 Vol. Sweet madam, 
 
 Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. 
 
 Val. How do you both ! you are manifest house- 
 keepers. What, are you sewing here ! A Hne spot, 
 in good faith. — How does your little son ! 
 
 Vir. I thank your ladyship: well, good madam. 
 
 Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a 
 drum, than look upon his school-master. 
 
 Val. O' my word, the father's son : I'll swear, 'lis 
 a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him 
 o Wednesday half an hour together: he has such 
 a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a 
 gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it go 
 again ; and after it again ; and over and over he 
 comes, and up again; catched it again : or whether 
 iiis fall enraged hun, or how 'twas, he did so set his 
 teeth, and tear it ; O, I warrant, how he mammock- 
 ed" it! 
 
 Vol. One of his father's moods. 
 
 Val. Indeed, la, 'lis a noble child. 
 
 Vir. A crack,9 madam. 
 
 Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have 
 you play the idle huswile with me Ibis afternoon. 
 
 Vir. No, good madam : 1 will not out of doors. 
 
 Val. Not out of doors! 
 
 Vol. She shall, she shall. 
 
 Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience: I will not 
 over the threshold, till my lord return from the wars. 
 
 Fa/. Fye.youconhne yourself most unreasonably; 
 Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in. 
 
 Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit 
 her with my prayers; but 1 cannot go thither 
 
 Vol. Why, 1 pray you 1 
 
 Vir. 'Tis not lo save labor, nor that I want love. 
 
 Val. You would be another Penelope: yet, thev 
 say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses" absence, did 
 but till Itliaca lull of moths. Come ; I would, your 
 cambric were sensible as your finger, that you 
 might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall 
 go with us. 
 
 Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed 1 
 will not Ibrth. 
 
 Val. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you 
 excellent news of your husband. 
 
 V'ir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. 
 
 Val. Verily, I do not jest with you ; there came 
 news from him last night. 
 
 Vir. Indeed, madam ! 
 
 Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak 
 it. Thus it is:— Ttii Voices have an army forth ; 
 against whom Cominius the general is gone, with 
 one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus 
 haiiius.are set down boiiire their city Corioli; they 
 nothing doubt prevailing.and lo make it brief wars. 
 This is true, on mine honor: and so, 1 pray to 
 with us. ' i j> B 
 
 Vir. Give me excuse, good madam ; I will obey 
 you in every fliuig hereafter. 
 
 Vol. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will 
 but disease our better mirth. 
 
 Val. In froth. 1 think, she would:— Fare you 
 
 well, Ihen.— Come, good sweet lady.— Pr'ytiiee, 
 
 Virgiha.turnlhysolemnessouto'door.andsoalon" 
 with us, " 
 
 ' (JlldJng. 
 
 ' Tore. 
 
 Vir. No: at a word, madam; indeed, I must 
 not. I wish you much mirth. 
 
 Val. Well, then, liirewell. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.-Bf/ore Corioli. 
 Enter, with Brum and Colors, March;3, Titus 
 LAitrirs, Otiicers, and Soldiers. To them a 
 Messenger. 
 
 Mar. Yonder comes news :— A wager, they ha\e 
 
 met. 
 hart. My horse to yours, no. 
 Mar. 'Tis done. 
 
 Lurt. Agreed. 
 
 Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy ? 
 Mess. They lie in view; but have not spoke as 
 
 yet. 
 l,art. So the good horse is mine. 
 •"'«'•• , I'll buy him of you. 
 
 hart. No, I 11 nor sell, nor give Inra : lend you 
 him, I will. 
 For half a hundred years.— Summon the town. 
 Mar. How far olf lie these armies ! 
 Mess. Within this mile and a half. 
 
 Mar. Then shall we hear tlieir 'larum, and they 
 ours. 
 Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work; 
 That we with smoking swords may inarch from 
 
 hence, 
 To help our fielded friends !— Come, blow thy blast. 
 They sound a Parley. Enter, on the Walls, some 
 
 Senators, and ot tiers. 
 Tullus Autidius, is he within your walls ? 
 
 1 Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he, 
 That s lesser than a little. Haik, our drums 
 
 . . {Alarums afar off. 
 
 Are bringing forth our youth: We'll break our 
 
 walls. 
 Rather than they shall pound us up : our gates. 
 Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with 
 
 rushes; 
 They'll open of themselves. Hark you, afar oflf; 
 _. ..,.,. .. [Other Alarums. 
 
 There is Aufidius; list, what woiK he makes 
 Amongst your cloven army. 
 •^^'"•- , O, they are at it ! 
 
 Lart. Their noise be our instruction.— Ladders, 
 ho! 
 
 The Voices enter, and pass over tlie Stage. 
 Mar. They fear us not. but issue forth their city. 
 Now put your shields before your hearts, and light 
 With hearts more proof than shields.— Adiance, 
 
 brave Titus : 
 They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts. 
 Which makes me sweat with wrath.— Come on, 
 
 my fellows ; 
 He that retires, I'll take him for a Voice, 
 And he shall liiel mine edge. 
 
 Alarum, and exeunt Romans and \u\<:es.fighling. 
 Tlie Romans are beaten back to their Trenches. 
 Re-enter MAiiCiis. 
 
 Mar. Allthccontagionof the south light on you, 
 You shames of Rome ! you herd of— Boils and 
 
 plagues 
 Plaster you o'er ; that you may be abhorr'd 
 Further than seen, and one inlcct another 
 Against the wind a mile ! You souls of gccsc. 
 That bear the shapes of men, how have you run 
 From slaves that apes would beat ! Pluto and hell'. 
 All hurt behind; backs red, and litces jale 
 WithlUghtandagu'dlear! Mend, and charge home, 
 (Ir, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe. 
 And iiiake my wars on you : look to't : Come on, 
 It jou'fl stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives. 
 As they us lo our trenches followed. 
 
 Another Alarum. Ttie \ olccs and llomtinsre-enier, 
 
 and the Fight u renewed. Tlie \\>[i:vi retire into 
 
 Corioli, and MAUi:ii:ii/ollows tluni lo the Gules. 
 
 So, now the gates are ope :— Now prove good 
 
 seconds : 
 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them. 
 Not for the fliers : mark me, and do the like. 
 
 [He enters the Gates and is shut ill. 
 
 1 Sol. FooI-hardiness ; not 1. 
 
 2 Sol. Nor I. 
 
 •* *•'"'• See, they 
 
 Have shut him in. [Alarum continues, 
 
 ■^tt- To the pot, 1 warrant him. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 549 
 
 Enter TiTi'S Lartits. 
 Lart. What is become of Marcius ? 
 AIL Slain, sir, doubtless. 
 
 1 Sol. Following the fliers at tlie very lii-els, 
 With them lie enters; who. upon the sudden, 
 Cl^pp'd-to their tjatcs; he is himself alone, 
 To answer all the city. 
 
 Lart. O noble fellow ! 
 
 W^ho, sensibly.' outdares his senseless sword. 
 And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, 
 
 Marcius: 
 A carbuncle entire, as bis; as thou art. 
 Were not so rich n jewel. Thou wast a soldier 
 Even to Calo's wish, not fierce and terrible 
 Only in strokes; hut, with thy srim lools, and 
 The thunder-like percussion o(^ thy sounds, 
 Thou mad'.-:t thine enemies shake, as if the world 
 Were feverous and did tremble. 
 Re-enter Makcils, hlfnlinf;, assaulted by the 
 
 Enemy. 
 1 Sill. Look, sir. 
 
 I-urt. 'Tis Marcius! 
 
 Let s fetch him oi'\. or make remain alike. 
 
 [Tkry fight, and all enter lite City. 
 
 SCENE V.— rvithin the Town. A Street. 
 Enter ecrtain Romans, with Spoils. 
 
 1 Rnm. This will I carry to Rome. 
 
 2 Rom. And I this. 
 
 3 Ro7n. A murrain on't ! I took this for silver. 
 
 [Alarum continues ."till aj'trr off. 
 
 Enter Marcius, and Titus Laktuts, ivith a 
 Trumpet. 
 
 Mar. See here these movers, that do prize their 
 hours 
 At a crack'd drachm I- Cushions, leaden spoons. 
 Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would 
 Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, 
 Ere yet the fight be done, pack up:— Down with 
 
 them. — 
 And hark, what noise the general makes !— To 
 
 him: — 
 There is the man of my soul's hate. Aulidius, 
 Piercing our Romans :' Then, valiant Titus, take 
 Convenient numbers to make good the city ; 
 Whilst L with those that have the spirit, will haste 
 To help Cominius. 
 
 Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st ; 
 
 Thy exercise hath been too vioJent for 
 A second course of fight. 
 
 Mar. Sir. praise mr not; 
 l\Iy work hatli yet not wa/m'd m<> : Kane j-ou well. 
 The blood I drop is rat.'ier physical 
 Than dangerous to me: T.j .VulidiH.'! thus 
 I will appear, and fight. 
 
 l-art. N'ow the fair goddess, Fortune, 
 
 Faii deep in Ijve with tlieo ; and her great charms 
 Misguide thy opposer.*' swords ! Bold gentleman. 
 Prosperity be thy page! 
 
 Mar. Thy friend no less 
 
 Than lh.)se she plucelh highest! So, farewell. 
 
 Lar,'. Thou wivrlhicst Marcius ! — 
 
 [E.rif Marcius. 
 Co. sound thy tru.'upet in the market place; 
 Call thither all the oUicers of Ihe town. 
 Where they sha^l know our mind : Away. [Exeunt. 
 
 S'CE.N'E VI.— A'eor the Camp of Cominius. 
 Enter Cominius and Forces retreating. 
 Com. Breathe you, my friends ; well fought, we 
 are come olf 
 Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands. 
 Nor cowardly in retire : bel'eve me, sirs. 
 We shall becharged again. Whiles we have struck, 
 Hv interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard 
 The charges of our friends .-^-The Roman gods, 
 Lead their successes ,as we wish our own ; 
 That both oar powers, with smiling fronu encoun- 
 tering. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Ma.y give you thnnkful sacrifice !— Thy newsl 
 
 Mess. The citizens of C-orioli have issued, 
 And given to Lartiiis and to Marcius battle: 
 I saw our party to their trenches driven. 
 And thi;n I came away. 
 
 * Ikiving sensation, feeling. 
 
 ^ A Roman coin. 
 
 Corn. Though thou speak'st truth, 
 
 Methinks. thou speak'st not weU. Huw long is't 
 since 1 
 
 ilff.t.v. Above an hour, my lord. 
 
 Com. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their 
 drums ; 
 How coiildst thoii in a mile confound^ an hour. 
 And bnng thy news so late I 
 
 Mess. Spies of the Voices 
 
 Held me in chase, that I w.as forced to wheel 
 Three or four miles about ; else had I, sir, 
 Half an hour since brought my report. 
 
 Enter MAncius. 
 
 Com. Who's yonder, 
 
 That does appear as he were flay'd 1 O gods ! 
 He has the stamp of Marcius ; and I have 
 Before-time seen him thus. 
 
 Mar. Come I too late? 
 
 Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a 
 tabor. 
 More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue 
 From every meaner man's. 
 
 Mar. Come I too late 1 
 
 Com. Ay.ifyou come not in the blood of others, 
 But mantled in your own. 
 
 Mar. O ! let me clip you ; 
 
 In arms as sound, as when I woo'd; in lipart 
 As merry, as when our nuptial day was done, 
 And tapers burn'd to bedward. 
 
 Com. Flower of warriors, 
 
 How is t with Titus Lartius? 
 
 Mar. As with a man busied about decrees: 
 Condemning some to death, and some to exile ; 
 Ransoming him. or pitying, threat'ning the other; 
 Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, 
 Even like a Ikwning greyhound in the leash, 
 To let him slip at will. 
 
 Com. Where is that slave. 
 
 Which told me thev had beat you to your trenches ! 
 Where is he I Call him hither. 
 
 ^I">: Let him alone. 
 
 He did inlorm the truth : Rut for our gentlemen. 
 The common tile, (.\ plague!— Tribunes for 
 
 them!) 
 The mouse ne'er shunu'd the cat, as they did budge 
 From rascals worse than they. 
 ■ Corn. Hut how prevail'd you ? 
 
 Mar. Will the time serve to tell t I do not think- 
 Where is the enemy ! .\re you lords o' the held ! 
 If not, why cease you till you are so? 
 
 Com. Marcius, 
 
 We have at disadvantage fought, and did 
 Retire to win our purpose. 
 
 Mar. How lies their battle? Know y<m on which 
 side 
 They have ]ilaced their men of trust? 
 
 Coin. As I guess, Marcius, 
 
 Their bands in the va ward' are the Antiates,^ 
 Of their best trust: o'er them .lutidius, 
 Their very heart of hope. 
 
 Mar. I do beseech >'0u, 
 
 By all the battles wherein we have fought, 
 By the blood we have shed together, by the vows 
 We have made to endure friends, that yon directly 
 Set me against Aufidius,and his Antiales: 
 And that you not delay the present;!' but. 
 Filling the air with swords advanced, and darts. 
 We prove this very hour. 
 
 Com. Though I could wish 
 
 You were conducled to a gentle bath. 
 And balms applied to you; yet dare I never 
 Deny your asking ; take yoiir choice of those 
 Thehest can aid your action. 
 
 Mar. Those are they 
 
 That most arc willing: — If any such be here. 
 [.\.s it were sin to doubt.) that' love Ibis painting 
 Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear 
 Lesser his person than an ill report; 
 If any think, brave death outweighs bad life. 
 And that his country's dearer than himself; 
 Let him, alone, or so many, so minded. 
 Wave thus, [ Waving hiM hand,] to express his 
 
 disposition, 
 .\nd follow Marcius, 
 
 [They all shout, and wave their Sword.t ; lake 
 him up ill their Arms, and cast up their Caps. 
 
 ' ExpeTid. 
 
 • Soldiers of Antium. 
 
 4 Front. 
 
 • Present timu. 
 
550 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act I. Scene IX. 
 
 O me, alone ! Make you a sword of me 1 
 
 If these shows be not outward, wliich of you 
 
 IJut is four Voices] None of you but is 
 
 Able to bear against the great Aufidius 
 
 A shield as hard as his. A certain number, 
 
 Though thanks to all, must I select : the rest, 
 
 Shall bear the business in some other hght. 
 
 As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; — 
 
 And four shall quickly draw out my command, 
 
 Wliich men are best inclin'd. 
 
 Clint. March on, my fellows ; 
 
 ]\Iake good this ostentation, and you sliall 
 Divide in all with us. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII.— ne Gates nf Corioli. 
 TiTPS Lauth'S, having set a Guard upon Corioli, 
 ^nin^ zvit/i a Drum and Trunijiet towards 
 CoMixius and Cails Marcus, enters witli a 
 Lieutenant, a party rj/' Soldiers, and a Scout. 
 Lart. So, let the ])orts^ be guarded; keep your 
 duties. 
 As I have set them down. If! do send, despatch 
 Those centuries^ to our aid ; the rest will serve 
 For a stiort holding : if we lose the field, 
 We cannot keep the town. 
 Lieu. Fear not our care, sir. 
 
 Lart. hjence, and shut your gates upon us. — 
 Our guider, come ; to the Roman camp conduct us. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VIII.— ^ Field of Buttle between tlie 
 Roman and tlie Volscian Camps. 
 Alarum. Enter March's and Aufidius. 
 Mar. I'll fight with none but thee ; for I do hate 
 thee 
 Worse than a promise-breaker. 
 
 Auf. We hate alike; 
 
 Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor 
 More than thy lame and envy : Fix thy f lot. 
 
 Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave. 
 And the gods doom him alter ! 
 
 Auf. If] tly, Marcius, 
 
 Halloo me like a hare. 
 
 Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus, 
 
 Alone I fought in your Corioli walls. 
 Anil made what work I pleas'd ; 'Tis not my blood 
 Wherein thou seest me mask'd : for thy revenge. 
 Wrench up thy ])o\ver to the highest. 
 
 Auf. Wert thou the Hector, 
 
 That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny. 
 Thou shoiddst not scape me here. — 
 
 [Ttieyjiglit, and certain Voices come to the 
 aid of AuFimus. 
 Officious and not valiant,— you have shain'd me 
 In your condemned seconds.^ 
 
 [Exeunt fighting, driven in bij Maecius. 
 
 SCENE IX.— TAe Roman Camp. 
 Alarum. A Retreat li .iininded. Flourlsli. Eater, 
 
 lit line side, Cumtiws and Romans; at the ut tier 
 
 side, Marcius, with tiis Arm in a Scarf, and 
 
 otfier Romans. 
 
 Cum. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, 
 Thou'lt not believe Ihy deeds : but I'll report it. 
 Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; 
 AVbere great patricians shall attend, and shrug, 
 r Ihe end, admire ; where ladies shall be frighted. 
 And, gladly quak'd,' hear more; where the dull 
 
 tribunes. 
 That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honors, 
 Shall say against their hearts— (-Te Ihaiilc the gods, 
 Our Home tiath such a soldier ! — 
 Vet cain'st thou to a morsel of this least, 
 Having luily dined before. 
 
 Enter TiTUS Lautius, luith his Power, from Ihe 
 Pursuit. 
 
 Lart. O general, 
 
 Here is the steed, we the caparison : 
 Hadst thou beheld 
 
 Mar. Pray now, no more : my mother. 
 
 Who has a charier to extol her blood, 
 When she docs ]iiaise me, grieves me. I have done 
 As you have done ; that's what I can ; induced 
 Ai; you have been ; that's for my country : 
 
 ' Gates. ■ Conip.inies of .1 hundred men. 
 
 It In afTordinK such ilMiined help. • 
 
 ' 'J'hrown into grateful trepidation. 
 
 He that has but effected his good will. 
 Hath overta'en mine act. 
 
 Com. You shall not be 
 
 The grave of your deserving; Rome must know 
 The value of her own: 'twere a concealment 
 Worse than a thell, no less than a traducement, 
 To hide your doings ; and to silence that. 
 Which to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, 
 Would seem but modest. Therelbre, I beseech you, 
 (In sign of what you are, not to reward 
 What you have done,) before our army hear me. 
 
 Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they 
 smart 
 To hear themselves remember'd. 
 
 Com. . Should they not, 
 
 Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, 
 And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, 
 ( Whereof we have ta'cn good, and good store, )of all 
 The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city, 
 We render you the tenth ; to be ta'en forth, 
 Before the common distribution, at 
 Your only clioice. 
 
 Mar. I thank you, general; 
 
 But cannot make my heart consent to take 
 A bribe to pay my sword : I do refuse it ; 
 And stand ujion my common part with those 
 That have beheld the doing. 
 
 [A long Flourish. Then all cry, Marcius ! Mar- 
 cius! cast up their Caps and Jjunces : CoMi- 
 Nius and Lartius stand bare. 
 
 Mar. May these same instruments, which you 
 profane, 
 Neversoundmore! Whendrumsand trumpetsshall 
 r the field prove llatterers, let courts and cities be 
 Made all of liilse-faced soothing : When steel grows 
 Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made 
 An overture for the wars ! No more, I say ; 
 For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled. 
 Or Ibil'd some debile^ wretch, — which,without note. 
 Here's many else have done, — you shout me Ibrth 
 In acclamations hyperbolical ; 
 As if I loved my little should be dieted 
 In praises sauced with lies. 
 
 Com. Too modest are you ; 
 
 More cruel to your good report than grateful 
 To us that give you truly : by your patience. 
 If 'gainst yourself you be iiicens'd, we'll put you 
 (Like one that meanshisproper^harm) in manacles. 
 Then reason safely with you.— Therefore, be it 
 
 known. 
 As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius 
 Wears this war's garland : in token of the which 
 My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him. 
 With all his trim belonging; and, from this time, 
 For what he did belbre Corioli, call him, 
 With all the applause and clamor of the host, 
 Cars Marcus Cohiolasis. — 
 Bear the addition nobly ever ! 
 
 [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums. 
 
 All. Caius Marcius Coriolaiius! 
 
 Cor. I will go wash ; 
 And when my liice is lair, you shall perceive 
 Whether 1 blush, or no : Ilowbeit, 1 thank you :^ 
 I mean to stride jour steed ; and, at all times. 
 To undercrest' your good addition. 
 To the fairness of my. power. 
 
 Com. So to our tent: 
 
 Where, ere we do repose us. we will write 
 To Rome of our success.— You, Titus Lartius, 
 Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome 
 The best.s with whom we may articulate,^ 
 For their own good, and ours.' 
 
 Lart. I shall, my lord. 
 
 C'or._ The gods begin to mock ine. I that now 
 Refus'd more princely gills, am bound to beg 
 Of my lord general. 
 
 ''"'"• Take it; 'tis yours.— What ia't ' 
 
 Car. I sometime lay, here in Corioli. 
 At a poor man's house : he used ine kindly : 
 He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; 
 But then Aulidius was within inj' view, 
 .\nd wrath o'crwhelm'd my pily: I request you 
 To give my poor host freedom. 
 
 Com. O, well begg'd ! 
 
 Were he the butcher of my son, he should 
 Be ireo, as the wind. Deliver him, Titus. 
 
 Lart. Marcius, his name] 
 
 1 Weak. feeUe. j Own. 
 
 * Add more tiy doing his best. i Chief men. 
 
 • Kuter into articles. 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 COPJOLANUS. 
 
 551 
 
 Cor. By Jupiter, forgot: — 
 
 I am weary ; yea, my memory is tir'd. — 
 Have we uo wine iiere ! 
 
 Com. Go we to our tent : 
 
 Tile biood uj'On your visage dries: 'tis time 
 It sliould be look'd to : come. [Exeunt. 
 
 scene; X.—The Camp of the Voices. 
 
 A Flourish. Cornets. Enter Ti'U.VS AUFIDItTS, 
 
 blouily, until two or iliree Soldiers. 
 
 Atif. The town is ta'en ! 
 
 1 HdL 'Twill be deliver'd bacit on good con- 
 dition. 
 
 Auf. Condition ! 
 I would I were a Roman ; for I cannot. 
 Being a Voice, be tiiat I am. — Condition! 
 What good condition can a treaty find 
 1' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, 
 I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me, 
 And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter 
 As often as we eat. — By the elements, 
 If e'er again I meet him beard to beard. 
 He IS mine, iir I am his: Mine emulation 
 Hath not that honor ni't, it had ; l<->r where' 
 1 thought to crush him in an equal force. 
 
 (True sword to sword.) I'll potcW at him someway; 
 or wrath, or crait, may get liim. 
 
 1 Hut. ' He s the devil. 
 
 Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle : My valor's 
 poison'd. 
 With only Kutlering stain by liim ; for him 
 Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary, 
 Being naked, sick : nor fane, nor Capitol, 
 The prajers of priests, nor times of sacritice, 
 Knibarquemenlsall of fury, shall lill up 
 Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst 
 My hate to Marcius: where 1 iiiid him, were it 
 At home upon my brother's guard, even there 
 Against the hos]>itable canon, would I 
 Wash my herce hand in his heart. Go you to the 
 
 city ; 
 Learn, how 'tis held ; and what they ore, that ii ust 
 Be hostages lor Rome. 
 
 I Sul. Will not you go ? 
 
 Auf. I am attendedo at the cypress grove : 
 I pray you, 
 
 ('Tis south the city mills.) bring me word thither 
 How the world goes; that to the pace of it 
 1 m.Ty spur on my jouiney. 
 
 1 tiul. I sliall, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— Rome. A public Place. 
 Enter Me.n'enius, Sicinil's, and Brutus. 
 
 ISlen. The augurer tells nie, we shall have news 
 to-night. 
 
 Bru. lioud or bad 1 
 
 Men. Not according to the prayer of the peo- 
 ple, lor they love not Marcius. 
 
 Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. 
 
 IMen. Pray you, who does the wolf love \ 
 
 Hie. The lamb. 
 
 Men. Ay, to devour him; as the hungry ple- 
 beians would Hie noble Marcius. 
 
 Bru. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. 
 
 Men. He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. 
 You two are old men; tell me one thing that I 
 shall ask vou. 
 
 Biitli Ti-ib. Well, sir. 
 
 l^len. In what enonnily is Marcius poor, that 
 you two ha\e not in abundance ! 
 
 Bru. He's poor in no one lault, but stored with 
 all, 
 
 iS'tc. Especially in pride. 
 
 Bru. And topping all others in boasting. 
 
 Men. This is strange now: Do you two know 
 how you arc censured here in the city, I mean of 
 us o' the right hand tile ! Do you ? 
 
 Botti Trih. Why. how are we censured? 
 
 Mett. Because }'ou talk of jiride now, — Will >ou 
 not be angry 1 
 
 Botli Trill. Well, well, sir, well. 
 
 Men. \Vhy, 'lis no great matter: for a very little 
 thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of 
 patience: give your disposition the leins, and be 
 angry at your jilcasures ; at the least, if you take 
 it as a pleiisure to }ou, in being so. You blame 
 Marcius for being proud? 
 
 Bru. We do it not alone, sir. 
 
 Men. I know, you can do very little alone; for 
 your helps are many ; or else your actions would 
 grow wondrous single: your abilities are too in- 
 tar* like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride: 
 O. that you could turn your eyes towards the napes 
 of jour necks, and make but an interior survey 
 0/ your good selves ! O, that you could! 
 
 Bru. What then, sir? 
 
 Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of 
 unmeritiiig, proud, violent, testy magistrates, (alias 
 fools,) as any in Rome. 
 
 Sic. Mene'nius, you are known well enough too. 
 
 ]\len. 1 am known to be a humorous patrician, 
 and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a 
 drop of allaying Tyber in't; said to be something 
 imperfect, in liivoring the first complaint: hasty, 
 and tinder-like, upon too trivial motion : one that 
 converses more with the buttock of the night, than 
 
 1 Whereas. 
 
 with the forehead of the morning. What I think 
 I ulter; and spend my malice in my breath : Meet- 
 ing two such weals-men' as you are. (I cannot call 
 you Lycurguses,) if the drink you gave me, touch 
 iny jialate adversely, I make a crooked lace at it. 
 1 cannot say, your worships have delivered the 
 matter well, when I find the ass in com]iound with 
 the major part of jour syllables: and though I 
 must be content to bear with those that say you 
 are reverend grave men; yet they lie deadly, that 
 tell, you have good faces. If you see this in the 
 iiKipof my microcosm, follows it, that I am known 
 well enough too ? What harm can your bi.sson- 
 cons])ectuiiies glean out of this cliaracter, if 1 be 
 known well enough too ? 
 
 Bru. Come, sir. come; we know you well enough. 
 
 Men. Vou know neitlier me, yourselves, nor any 
 thing. Vou are ambitious for poor knaves' caps 
 and legs; 5 on wear out a good wholesome fore- 
 noon, in hearing a cause between an orange wife 
 and a fosset-seller ; and then rejourn the contro- 
 versy of three-pence to a second day of audience. 
 —When you are hearing a matter between party 
 and party, if you chance to be pinched with the 
 colic, you make laces like mummers; set up the 
 bloody Hag against all jialience^ and, in roaring for 
 a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, 
 the more entangled by your hearing: all theiicaee 
 you make in their cau.se, is. calling both the parties 
 knaves: You are a pair of strange ones. 
 
 Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to 
 be a perfecter giber lor the table, than a necessary 
 bencher in the Capitol. 
 
 Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if 
 they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you 
 are. When j on speak best unto the purpose, it is 
 not worth Ihe wagging of your beards; and your 
 beards deserve not so honorable a grave, as to stull 
 a botcher's cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's 
 pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is 
 ]}roud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth, all 
 your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, per- 
 adventure, some of the best of them were hereditary 
 hangmen. Good e'en to your worships: more of 
 your conversation would infect my brain, being the 
 herdsmen of the beastly plebeians : I wi)l be bold 
 to take my leave of you. 
 
 [BiiU. and Sic. retire to ilie back of tlie Scene. 
 
 Enter Volumsia, VinniLiA, and Valeria, ^-c. 
 How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and Ihe moon, 
 were she earthly, no nobler,) whither do you lol- 
 low 3'our eyes so fast ? 
 
 Tot. Honorable Menenius, my boy Marcius ap- 
 proaches: for the love of Juno, let's go. 
 
 Men. Ha! Marcius coming home ? 
 
 ■ Poke, push. • Waited fur. • Statesmen. ' Blind. 
 
55^ 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act II, 
 
 Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most pros- 
 perous approbation. 
 
 Men. Take my cap. Jupiter and I thank thee: — 
 Hoo ! Marcius coming home 1 
 
 Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true. 
 
 Vol. Look, here's a letter from him: the slate 
 hath another, li is wife another; and, I think, there's 
 one at home for you. 
 
 Men. I will make my very house reel to-night: 
 —\ h?tter for me ] 
 
 Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I 
 saw it. 
 
 Men. A letter for me 7 It fives me an estate of 
 seven years' health; in which time I will make a 
 lip at the physician: the most sovereig;n prescrip- 
 tion in Galen is but empiricutic, and to this pre- 
 servative, of no better report than a horse-drench. 
 Is he not wounded 1 he was wont to come home 
 wounded. 
 
 J'ir. O, no, no, no. 
 
 Vol. 0, he is wounded. I thank (he gods for't, 
 
 7l/fH. So do I too, if it he not too much : — IJrings 
 'a victory in his packet! — The wounds become 
 him. 
 
 ]'al. On's brows. Menenius : he comes the third 
 time home with the oaken tjarland. 
 
 Men. Has he disciplined Autidius soundly ? 
 
 Vol. Titus Larlius writes, — TJiey fought to- 
 gelher, but Autidius got oil". 
 
 Me7i. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant 
 him that: an he had slaid by him, I would not have 
 been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and 
 the gold that's in them. Is the senate possessed 
 of this? 
 
 Vol. Good ladies, let's go: — Yes, yes, yes: the 
 senate has letters from the general, wherein he 
 gives my son the whole name of the war : he hath 
 m this action outdone his former deeds doubly. 
 
 Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of 
 him. 
 
 Men. Wondrous? Ay, I warrant you, and not 
 without his true purchasing, 
 
 Vir. The gods grant them true! 
 
 Vol.. True 1 pow, wow. 
 
 Men. True? I'll be sworn they are tnie: — 
 Wliere is he wounded? — God save your good 
 ■worships! [To the Tribunes, z^V^ come forward.^ 
 Marcius is coming home: lie has more cause to be 
 proud. — Where is he wounded? 
 
 Vol, I' the shoulder, and i' the left arm: There 
 will be large cicatrices to show the people, wlien 
 he shall stand lor his place. He received in tlie 
 repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts i' the body. 
 
 men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh, — 
 there's nine that I know. 
 
 Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty- 
 five wounds upon him. 
 
 Men. Now it's twenty-seven : every gash was an 
 enemy's grave: [.4 Shout and Flourish.] Hark! 
 the trumpets. 
 
 Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius: before him 
 He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; 
 Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie ; 
 Which being advanced, declines; and then men die. 
 
 A Sennet.^ Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius 
 and Tirrs Lartr's; between them, Coriola- 
 KfS. crowned with an oaken Garland; with 
 Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald. 
 
 Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did 
 fight 
 Within Corioli gates: where he hath won. 
 With fame a name to Caius Marcius; these 
 In honor follows, Coriolanus : 
 Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! 
 
 [Flonrl'ih. 
 
 All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! 
 
 Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart; 
 Pray now, no more. 
 
 Cam. Look, sir, your mother. 
 
 Cor. 0! 
 
 Ymi liave, I know, pctition'd all the gods 
 For my prosperity. [Kneels. 
 
 yal. Nay. my good soldier, up: 
 My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius. and 
 By deed-achievinjT honor newly nam'd, 
 What is it? Coriolanus, must I call thee'' 
 But O. thy wife 
 
 Cor. My gcacious^ silence, hail I 
 
 • Flourish on cornets. « Graceful. 
 
 Wouldst thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd 
 
 home. 
 That weep'st to see me triumph ? Ah, my dear, 
 Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, 
 And mothers that lack sons. 
 
 Mefi. Now the gods wovvn thee ! 
 
 Cor. And live you yet? — my sweet lady, 
 pardon. [To Valeria. 
 
 Vol. I know not where to turn:— O welcome 
 liome ; 
 And welcome, general ; — And you arewitlcome all. 
 
 Me7i. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could 
 weep. 
 And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Wel- 
 come : 
 A curse begin at every root of his heart. 
 That is not glad to see thee ! — You are three, 
 That Rome should dote on : yet, by the faith of 
 
 men, 
 We have some old crab-trees here at home, that 
 
 will not 
 Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: 
 We call a nettle, but a nettle ; and 
 The taults of fools, but folly. 
 
 Com. Ever right. 
 
 Cor. Menenius, ever, ever. 
 
 Ber. Give way there, and go on. 
 
 Cur. Your hand, and yours. 
 
 [To his Wife and Mother. 
 Kre in our own house I do shade my head, 
 The good patricians must be visited ; 
 From wliom I have received not only greetings, 
 But with them change of honors. 
 
 Vol. I have lived 
 
 To see inherited my very wishes, 
 And the buildings of my fancy: only there 
 Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but 
 Our Rome will cast upon tJice. 
 
 Cor. Know, good mother, 
 
 I had rather be their servant in my way. 
 Than sway with them in theirs. 
 
 Com. On to the Capitol. 
 
 [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as btfore. 
 The Tribunes remain. 
 
 Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared 
 sii^hts 
 Are spectacled to see him : Your prattling nurse 
 Into a rapture lets her baby cry. 
 While she chats him : the kitchen malkin^ pins 
 Her richest lockrains 'bout her reechy" neck, 
 Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, 
 
 windows, 
 Are smothcr'd up. leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd 
 With variable complexions: all agreeing 
 In earnestness to see him ; seld--shown llamens^ 
 Do press among the popular throngs, and putf 
 To win a vulgar station : our veil'd dames 
 Commit the war of white and damask, in 
 Their nicely-gawded' cheeks, to the wanton spoil 
 Of Phcebus burning kisses : such a pother, 
 As if that whatsoever god, who leads him, 
 Were slily crept into his human powers. 
 And gave him graceful posture. 
 
 Sic. On the sudden, 
 
 I warrant him consul. 
 
 Bi-ii. Then our oltice may, 
 
 During his power, go sleep. 
 
 Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honors 
 From where he should begin and end ; but will 
 Lose those that he hath won. 
 
 £ru. In that there's comfort- 
 
 Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom wo 
 stand. 
 But they, upon their ancient malice, will 
 Forget, with the least cause, these his new honors; 
 Which that he'll give them, make as little question 
 As he is proud to do't. 
 
 Brt/. I heard him swear. 
 
 Were he to stand for consul, never would he 
 Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put 
 T^he napless vesture of humility' ; 
 Nor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds 
 To the people, beg their stinking breaths. 
 
 ^ic. 'Tis right. 
 
 Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it, ratlier 
 Than carry it, but by the suit o' the gentry to 
 
 him. 
 And the desires of the nobles. 
 
 6 Ma'nl. 8 liest linen. i Sfiloil with swe.ntand smok» 
 " Seldom. » Priests. * Adorned. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 553 
 
 Sic. I wish no better, 
 
 Than have him hold that purpose, and put it 
 III execution. 
 
 Bru. *Tis most like, he will. 
 
 Sic, It shall be to him then, as our good wills ; 
 A sure destruclion. 
 
 Bru. So it must fall out 
 
 To him, or our authorities. For an end, 
 \Vc must sup:sest- the people in what hatred 
 He still hath Iiekl Ihenuthat to his power he would 
 Have made them n^ulcs.gileneedlheir pleaders, and 
 Dispropertied their freedoms: holding them. 
 In human action and capacity, 
 Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world, 
 Than camels in their war; who have their provand^ 
 Only ffir bearing burdens, and sore blows 
 For sinking under them. 
 
 Sic. This, as you say, suggested 
 
 At some time when his soaring insolence 
 Shall teach the people, (which time shall not want, 
 If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy, 
 As to set dugs on sheep,) will be his tire 
 To kindle their dry stubble ; and their blaze 
 Shall darken him lor ever. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Bru. What*s the matter 1 
 
 Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis 
 thought 
 That Marcius should be consul: I have seen 
 The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind 
 To liear him speak: Tlie matrons tlung their gloves, 
 Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
 Upon him as he passM : the nobles bended, 
 As to Jove's statue ; and the commons made 
 A shower, and thunder, with their caps, and shouts: 
 1 never saw the like. 
 
 Bru. Let's to the Capitol; 
 
 And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, 
 But hearts for the event. 
 
 Sic. Have with you. {Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE II.— The Capitol. 
 Enter two Olficers, to lay Cushions. 
 
 1 Off. Come, come, tliey are almost here : How 
 many stand for consulships \ 
 
 2 Off. Three, tbey say : but *tis thought of every 
 one, Coriolauus will carry it. 
 
 1 Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance 
 proud, and loves not the common people. 
 
 2 Off. 'Faith, there have been many great men 
 thai have IlalterM the people,who ne'er loved them ; 
 and liiere be many tbat they have loved, they know 
 not wherefore ; so that, if they love they know not 
 why, they hate upon no better a ground : There- 
 forn, for Coriohuuis neither to care whether they 
 love or hate hiui, manifests the true knowledge he 
 has in their disposition ; and out of his noble care- 
 lessness, lets them plainly see't. 
 
 1 Off. If he did not care whether he had their 
 love, "or no. he waved inditlerentty 'twixt doing 
 them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their 
 hate with groaler devotion than they can render it 
 hitn; aad leaves nothing undone, that may fully 
 discover him their opposite. Now, to seem to 
 atfect the malice and displeasure of the people, is 
 as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for 
 their love. 
 
 2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his country: 
 And nis ascent is not by such easy degrees as 
 those, wlio, having been supple and courteous to 
 tlie people, bonneted-* without any further deed to 
 heave them at ail into their estimation and report : 
 but he haih so planted his honors in their eyes, 
 and hisactionsin their hearts, that for their ton;;ues 
 to be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind 
 of ingrateful injury: to report otherwise were a 
 malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck re- 
 proof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. 
 
 1 Off. No more of him; he is a worthy man: 
 Make way, they are coming. 
 A Sennet. Enter, with Lictors before thern, CoMi- 
 
 Nius, the Consul, Mesenius. CouioLANrs, many 
 
 other Senators, Sicinius, and Brutus. The 
 
 Senators take their places; the Tribunes take 
 
 theirs also by themselves. 
 
 Men. Having determin'd of the Voices, and 
 To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, 
 
 • Inform. » Pioveuder. * Took off caps. 
 
 As the main point of this our at^er-meeting, 
 
 To gratify his noble servicf, that 
 
 Hath thus stood for his country : Therefore please 
 
 you. 
 Most reverend and grave elders, to desire 
 The present consul, and last general 
 In our well-found successes, to report 
 A little of that worthy work perform'd 
 By Caius Marcius Coriolanus ; wiiom 
 We meet here, both to thank and to remember 
 With honors like himself. 
 
 1 Sen. Speak, good Cominius: 
 
 Leave nothing out for length, and make us think 
 Rather our state's defective for requital, 
 Than we to stretch it out. Masters o' the people, 
 We do request your kindest ears; and, after, 
 Your loving motion toward the common body, 
 To yield what passes here. 
 
 Sic. We are convented 
 
 Upon a pleasing treaty ; and have hearts 
 Inclinable to honor and advance 
 The theme of our assembly. 
 
 Bru. Which the rather 
 
 We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember 
 A kinder value of the people, than 
 He hath hereto prized them at. 
 
 Men. That's off, that's off;^ 
 
 I would you rather had been silent: Please you 
 To hear Cominius sj^'akl 
 
 Bru. Most willingly : 
 
 But yet my caution was more pertinent. 
 Than the rebuke you gave it. 
 
 Men. He loves your people ; 
 
 But tie him not to be their bedfellow.^ 
 Worthy Cominius, speak. — Nay, keep your place. 
 [CuniOLANUS rises^ and offe7-s to go away. 
 
 I Sen. Sit. Coriolanus: never shame to hear 
 What you have nobly done. 
 
 Cor. Your honors* pardon ; 
 
 I had rather have my wounds to heal again. 
 Than hear say how 1 got them. 
 
 Bru. ^ Sir, I hope, 
 
 My words disbench'd you not. 
 
 Cor. No, sir; yet ofl 
 
 When blows have made me stay, I Hcd from words. 
 You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not: But your 
 
 people, 
 I love them as they weigh. 
 
 Men. Pray now, sit down. 
 
 Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head 
 i' the sun, 
 When the alarum were struck, than idly sit 
 To hear my nothings monster'd. 
 
 [Exit Coriolanus. 
 
 Men. Masters o' the people, 
 
 Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter, 
 (That's thousand to one good one,) when you now 
 
 see. 
 He had rather venture all his limbs for honor. 
 Than one of his ears to hear it? — Proceed, Co- 
 minius. 
 
 Corn. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus 
 Should not be utter'd feebly.— It is held. 
 That valor is the chiefest virtue, and 
 Most dignifies the haver: if it be, 
 The man I speak of cannot in the world 
 Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years. 
 When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought 
 Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator. 
 Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, 
 When with his Amazonian^ chin he drove 
 Tiie bristled lips betbre him: he bestrid 
 An o'er-press'd Roman, and i' the consul's view 
 Slew thrcp opposers: Tarquin's self he met. 
 And struck him on his knee : in that day's feats, 
 When he might act the woman in the scene. 
 He prov'd best man o' the held, and for his meed'' 
 Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age 
 Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea; 
 And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since. 
 He lurch'd^ all swords o'the garland. For this last, 
 Before and in Corioli, let me saj', 
 I cannot speak him home. He stopp'd the fliers; 
 And. by his rare example, made the coward 
 Turn terror into sport: as waves belbre 
 A ^'essel under sail, so men obcy'd, 
 And fell below hisstein : his sword (death's stamp) 
 Where it did mark it took; from face to foot 
 
 < \ofbing to the purpose. e Without a board. 
 
 1 Rewai-d. • Bisappoiuted. 
 
554 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act 11. 
 
 He was a thing of blood, whose every motion 
 Was timed with dving cries; alone he entered 
 The niorial gate o* the city, which he painted 
 With shunless destiny, aidless came off. 
 And with a sudden reinforcement struck 
 Corioli. like a planet: Now all's his: 
 When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce 
 His ready sense : then straight his doubled spirit 
 Re-quickenM what in flesh was fatigate.s 
 And to the battle came he; where he did 
 Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 
 'Tvvere a perpetual spoil ; and, till we call'd 
 Both field and city ours, he never stood 
 To ease his breast with panting. 
 
 Men. Worthy man ! 
 
 1 Sen. Hecannotbutwith measure fitthe honors 
 Whicli we devise him. 
 
 C('iii. Our spoils he kick'd at ; 
 
 And Inok'd upon things precious, as they were 
 The common muck o' the world ; he covets less 
 Than misery' itself would give; rewards 
 His deeds with doing them, and is content 
 To spend the time to end it. 
 
 Men. He's right noble ; 
 
 Let him be call'd for. 
 
 1 Sen. Call for Coriolanus. 
 
 0^". He doth appear. 
 
 Re-enter CoRiotANUS. 
 
 Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleasM 
 To make thee consul. 
 
 Cor. I do owe them still 
 
 My Hte, and services. 
 
 Men, It then remains, 
 
 That you do speak to the people. 
 
 Cor. ^ I do beseech you, 
 
 Let mc o'erleap that custom; for I cannot 
 Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them, 
 For my wounds' sake, to give their sulFiagc : please 
 
 you. 
 That I may pass this doing. 
 
 Sir. Sir. the people 
 
 Must have their voices; neither will they bate 
 One jot of ceremony. 
 
 Men, Put them not to't: — 
 
 Pray you, go fit ynu to the custom ; and 
 Talie to you, as your predecessors have, 
 Your hoiior with your form. 
 
 C'jr. It is a part 
 
 That I shall blush in acting, and might well 
 Be taken Irom the people. 
 
 Bin. Mark you that? 
 
 Cor. To brag unto them — thus I did, and Ihus; — 
 Show them the unaching scars which I should 
 
 hide. 
 As if I had receiv'd them for the hire 
 Of their breath only: — 
 
 Men. Do not stand upon't. — 
 
 We recommend to you, tribunes of the people. 
 Our purpose to them ; — and to our noble consul 
 Wish we all joy and honor. 
 
 Sen. To Coriolanus come all joy and honor ! 
 
 [Flniirhth. Then exeunt Senators. 
 
 Bru. You see now he intends to use the people. 
 
 Sic. May they perceive his intent! He that will 
 require them. 
 As if he did contemn what he requested 
 Should be in them to give. 
 
 Bru. Come, we'll inform them 
 
 Of our proceedings here: on the market-place, 
 I know they do attend us. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE UL—The Forum. 
 Enter several Citizens. 
 
 1 Cif. Once, if Jie do require our voices, we 
 ought not to deny him. 
 
 2 Cif. We may, sir. if we will. 
 
 'S at. We have power in ourselves to do it, but 
 it is a jiower that we have no power to do: for if 
 he show us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we arc 
 to put our tongues into those wounds, and speak 
 for them ; so. if he tell us his noble deeds, we must 
 also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingra- 
 titude is monstrous: and for the multitude to be 
 ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multi- 
 tude; of the which, we being members, should 
 t;ring ourselves to be monstrous members. 
 
 1 Cit. And to make us no better thought of, a 
 V Wearied. * Avarice. 
 
 little help will serve: for once, when \vc stooa up 
 about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the 
 many-headed multitude. 
 
 3 Cit. We have been called so of many ; not that 
 our heads are some brown, some black, some au- 
 burn, some bald, but that our wits arc so diversely 
 colored : and truly I tliink, if all our wits were to 
 issue out of one skull, they would lly east, west, 
 north, south ; and their consent of one direct way 
 should be at once to all the points o' the compass. 
 
 2 Cit. Think you so? Which way, do you 
 judge, my wit would lly 1 
 
 3 Cif. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as 
 another man's will, 'tis strongly wedged jp ir a 
 blockhead : but if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, 
 southward. 
 
 2 Cif. Why that way 1 
 
 3 Cif. To lose itself in a fog; where being three 
 parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth 
 would return for "conscience sake to help to get 
 thee a wile. 
 
 2 Cit. You are never without your tricks : — You 
 may, you may. 
 
 3 Cit. Are you all resolved to give your voices? 
 But that's no matter, the greater part carries it* 
 I say, if he would incline to the people, there was 
 never a worthier man. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus and MENESirs. 
 Here he comes, and in tlie gown of humility : mark 
 his behavior. We are nut to slay nllogcther, but 
 to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, 
 and by threes. He's to make his requests by parti- 
 culars: wherein every one of us has a single honor, 
 in giving him our own voices with our own tongues: 
 therefore, IijIIovv me, and I'll direct you Iiow j'ou 
 shall go by him. 
 
 Afl. Content, content. [Exeujif, 
 
 Men. O sir, you are not right; have you not 
 known 
 The worthiest men have done it ? 
 
 Cor. What must I say ? — 
 
 I pray, sir, — Plague upon't! I cannot bring 
 
 My tongue to such a pace: look, sir; my 
 
 wounds ; 
 I got them in my country's service, when 
 Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran 
 From the noise of our own drums. 
 
 Men, O me, the gods ! 
 
 You must not speak of that: you must desire them 
 To think upon you. , 
 
 Cor. Think upon me? Hang 'em! 
 
 I would they would forget me, like the virtues 
 Which our divines lose by tiiem. 
 
 Men. You'll mai" all ; 
 
 I'll leave you : pray you, speak to them, 1 prav you. 
 In wholesome manner. [Exit. 
 
 Enter two Citizens. 
 Cor. Bid them wash their faces, 
 
 And keep their teeth clean.— So, here comes a 
 
 brace. — 
 You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. 
 
 1 Cit. We do, sir; tell us what halh brought you 
 
 to't. 
 Cor. Mine own desert. 
 
 2 Cii. Your own desert? 
 
 Cor. Ay, not 
 
 Mine own desire, 
 
 I Cit. How! not your own desire? 
 
 Cor. No, sir: 
 'Twas never my desire yet. 
 To trouble the poor with begging. 
 
 1 Cit. You must think, if we give you any thing, 
 We hope to gain by you. 
 
 Cur. Well then, I pray, your price o' the consul- 
 ship? 
 
 1 Cif. The price is, sir, to ask it kindly. 
 
 Cor. ' Kindly? 
 
 Sir, I pray let me ha't : I have wounds to sliow you. 
 Which shall be yours in private.— Your good voice, 
 
 sir; 
 What say you? 
 
 2 Cit. You shall have it, worthy sir. 
 Cor. A match, sir: — 
 
 There is in all two worthy voices begg^'d : — 
 I iiave your alms ; adieu. 
 
 1 Cif, But this is something odd. 
 
 2 Cit. An 'twere to give again. — But 'tis no 
 
 matter. [Exeunt two Citizens. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 OOKIOLANUS. 
 
 555 
 
 Enter two ntfier Citizens. 
 
 Cur. Pray you now, if it may stand witli the tune 
 of your voices, tliat I may be consul, I liave here 
 tlie customary gown. 
 
 3 at. You have deserved nobly of your country, 
 and you liave not deserved nobly. 
 
 Cor. Youreni;<ma7 
 
 3 at. You have been a scourge to lier enemies, 
 you liavc been a rod to her friends; you have not, 
 indeed, loved tlie common people. 
 
 Cor. Y'ou should account me the more virtuous, 
 that I have ni>t been common in my love. I will, sir, 
 flatter mysworn brother the people, to earn a dearer 
 estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account 
 p:enlle: and since the wisdom ol" their choice is ra- 
 ther to have my hat than my heart. I will practise the 
 insmuain.^ nod, and be oU" to tliem most counter- 
 feitly;that is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment 
 of some po]3ular inan.andgiveit bountifully to the 
 desirers. Thcrelbre, beseech > ou. I may be consul. 
 
 4 at. We hope to find you our friend ; and there- 
 fore give you our voices heartily. 
 
 3 at. You have received many wounds for your 
 country. 
 
 Cor. 1 will not seal your knowledge with show- 
 ing thom. I will make much of your voices, and so 
 trouble \ou no further. 
 
 Botli Lit. The gods give you joy, .■iir, heartily ! 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 Cor. Most sweet voices ! — 
 Better it is to die. better to starve, 
 Tlian crave the hire which first we do deserve. 
 Why in this wolvish gown should I stand here, 
 To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, 
 Their needless vouches ] Custom calLs mo to'f : — 
 What custom wills, in all things sliould we do't. 
 The dust on antique time would lie unswcpt, 
 And mountainous error be too highly lieap'd 
 For truth to over-peer. — Rather than fool it so, 
 Let the high ollice and the honor go 
 To one that would do thus. — I am half through ; 
 The one part sulli'r'd, the other will I do. 
 
 Enter three otlier Citizens. 
 Here come more voices, — 
 Your voices : i'm your voices I have fought ; 
 WatchM tor your voices; tor your voices, hear 
 Of wounds two dozen odd ; battles thrice six 
 I have seen and heard of; for your voices have 
 Done many things, some less, some more: your 
 
 voices : 
 Indeed, I would be consul. 
 
 6 at. He has done nobly, and cannot go without 
 any honest man's voice. 
 
 b at. Therelorc let him be consul : The gods 
 give him joy, and make him good friend to the 
 people ! 
 
 Ati. Amen, Amen. 
 
 God save thee, noble consul ! [Exeunt Citizens. 
 
 Cor. . Worthy voices ! 
 
 lie-enter MEXENirs, ivitli Brutus and Sicisius. 
 
 Men. You have stood your limitalion; and the 
 tribunes 
 Endue you with the people's voice: Remains, 
 That, in the ollicial marks invested, you 
 Anon do meet the senate. 
 
 Cor. Is this done 1 
 
 Sic. The custom of request you liavc discharged: 
 The people do admit you ; and are suminoii'd ' 
 To meet anon, upon your approbation. 
 
 Cnr. Where ] at the senate-house 1 
 
 *■''<:• There, Coriolanus. 
 
 Cor. May I then change these garments ? 
 
 •^'C- , You may, sir. 
 
 Cur. That I 11 straight do ; and, knowing niyself 
 again. 
 Repair to ihe senate-house. 
 
 Wtv ru keep yim company.— Will you along? 
 
 Bru. We stay here for the people. 
 
 S^e. Fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Coiiiol. and Menen. 
 He has it now; and by his looks, methinks, 
 Tis warm at Ins heart. 
 
 B"'. With a proud lieart he wore 
 
 His humble weeds: Will you dismiss the people ! 
 Re-enter Citizens. 
 
 Sic. How now, my masters 1 have you chose this 
 man .' 
 
 1 at. He has oi;r voices, sir. 
 
 Bru. We pray tile gods, he may deserve your 
 loves. 
 
 2 at. Amen, sir: To my poor unworthy notice, 
 He inock'd us, when he begg'd our voices. 
 
 3 at. Certainly, 
 He llouted us downright. 
 
 1 at. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not 
 
 mock us. 
 
 2 Ci7. Not one amongst ussavcyourself.butsays. 
 He used us scornfully : he should have show u us 
 His marks of merit, wounds receiv'dforliis country. 
 
 Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure. 
 at. No ; no man saw 'em. 
 
 [Several speutc. 
 
 3 Ci7. He said, he had wounds, which he could 
 
 show in private ; 
 And with his hat. thus waving it in scorn, 
 / woutt be consul, says he : aged custinn. 
 But tnj i/(ntr voices, will not t^o permit me ; 
 Your voices ttierefore: When we granted that. 
 Here was, — / ttiank you for ijour voices, — lltank 
 
 you,— 
 Your most sweet voices : — now you. liave left your 
 voices, 
 
 1 have no farther with you: Was not this 
 
 mocKery ? 
 
 Sic. Why, either, were you ignorant to see't? 
 Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness 
 To yield your voices ? 
 
 Bru. Could you not have told him, 
 
 As you were lesson 'd,— When he liad no power, 
 Diit was a petty servant to the state. 
 He was your enemy ; ever spake against 
 Your liberties, and the charters, that you bear 
 r the body of the weal : and now arriving 
 A place of potency, and sway o' the state. 
 If he should stdl nialignanlly remain 
 Fast foe to the i)Iebeh.-^ >our voices might 
 Be curses to yourselves'! You should have said, 
 That as his worthy deeds did claim no less 
 Than what he stood for ; so his gracious nature 
 Would think upon you lor yetir voices, and 
 Translate his malice towards you into love, 
 Standing your friendly lord. 
 
 Sic. Thus to have said, 
 
 As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit, 
 And try'd ills inclinalion : from liim ]>Iuek'd 
 Kither his gracious promise, which ymi might. 
 As cause had call'd you up. have held him to ; 
 Or else it would have gali'd his surly nature, 
 Which easily endures not article 
 Tying liim to aught ; so, putting him to rage. 
 You sliould have ta'cn the advantage of his choler, 
 And i)ass*d him unelected. 
 
 Bru. Did you perceive. 
 
 He did solicit you in free contempt, 
 Wiien he did need j'our loves; and do you think. 
 That his contempt shall not be bruising Id you. 
 When he hath power to crush? Why, had your 
 
 bodies 
 No heart among you ? Or liad you tongues, to cry 
 Against the rectorship of judgment ! 
 
 Sic. Have you. 
 
 Ere now, deny d the asker? and, now again. 
 On him, that did not ask, but mock, bestow 
 Yoursued-for tongues ] 
 
 3 at. He's not conlirm'd.we may deny him yet. 
 _2 at. .\nd will deny him : 
 I'll have live hundred voices of that sound. 
 
 1 at. I twice live hundred, and their friends to 
 piece 'em. 
 
 Bru. (iet you hence instantly; and tell those 
 friends,— 
 They have cliose a consul, that will from them take 
 Their liberties; make them of no more voice 
 Than dogs, that are as olten beat for harknig. 
 As tlierelore kept to do so. 
 
 Sic. Let them assemble; 
 
 And, on a safer judgment, all revoke 
 Your ignorant election: Enlbrce his pride. 
 And his old hate unto you : besides, forget not 
 With what contempt he wore the humble weed; 
 How in his suit he scorn'd you : but your loves, 
 Tliinkiiig upon his services, took from you 
 The apprehension of his present portance,^ 
 Which gibingly, ungravely he did fashion 
 Alter the inveterate hate he hears you. 
 
 Bru. Lay 
 
 A lault on us, your tribunes; that we labor'd 
 
 * i'ltjbeiaus, common people. a Carriage. 
 
556 
 
 COmOLANUS. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 (No impcdimeat between) but that you must 
 Cast your election on liira. 
 
 Sic. Say, you chose him 
 
 More after our commandment, than as guided 
 Byyourown true aflL'clions; and that, yourminds 
 Pre-occupied with wiiat you rather must do 
 TJian vviiat you should, niade you a(i;ainst tJie grain 
 To voice him consul : Lay the fault on us. 
 
 Bru. Ay, spare us not. Say, we read lectures to 
 
 J'OU, 
 
 How youngly he began to serve his country. 
 How Ioul; continued ; and what slock he springs of. 
 The noble house o' the Marcians; from whence came 
 That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, 
 Who, afler great Hostilius, here was king; 
 Of the same house Publius and Quintus were. 
 That our best water brought by conduits hither; 
 And Cen.sorinus, darling of the people, 
 And nobly nam'd so, being censor twice, 
 Was his great ancestor. 
 
 Sic. One thus descended, 
 
 That hath beside well in his person wrought 
 
 To be set high in place, we did commend 
 To your remembrances: but you have found, 
 Scaling-' his present bearing with his past, 
 That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke 
 Your sudden approbation. 
 
 lii'U- Say, you ne'er had done't 
 
 (Harp on that still.) but by oiir putting on : 
 And presently, when you have drawn your number, 
 Repair to the Capitol. 
 
 at. We will so: almost all [Several speak. 
 
 Repent in their election. [Exeunt Citizens. 
 
 Bru. Let them go on ; 
 
 This mutiny were better put in hazard, 
 Than stay, past doubt, tor greater : 
 If. as his nature is, he tall in rage 
 With their refusal, bolh observe and answer 
 The vantage of his anger. 
 
 Sie. To the Capitol : 
 
 Come ; we'll be there before the stream o' the people ; 
 And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own. 
 Which we have goaded onward. [Ejceunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ Street. 
 
 Cm-nets. Enter Coriolancs, MENEXins, Coin- 
 Nius, Titus Lautius, Senators, and Patricians. 
 
 Cor. Tullus Aufidius then had made new headi 
 
 Lart. He had, my lord ; and that it was, which 
 caused 
 Our swifter composition. 
 
 Cor. So then the Voices stand but as at first; 
 Ready, wlien time shall prompt thcin, to make road 
 Upon us again. 
 
 Com. They are worn, lord consul, so, 
 
 That we shall hardly in our ages see 
 Their banners wave' again. 
 
 Cur. Saw you Aufidius I 
 
 Larf. On safe-guard became tome; and did curse 
 Against the Voices, for they had so vilely 
 Yielded the town : he is retir'd to Antium. 
 
 Cor. Spoke he of me ! 
 
 Lart. He did, my lord. 
 
 Cur. How? what? 
 
 Lart. How often he had met you sword to sword: 
 That, of all things upon the earth, lie hated 
 Y'our]iersonmost: that he \\(nild jiawniiiKfortui>es 
 To hojieless restitution, so h* miglit 
 Be call'd your vanquisher. 
 
 Cur. At Antium liTcs he] 
 
 /-«?■/. At Antium. 
 
 Cur. 1 wish I had a cause to seek him there, 
 To oppose his hatred tully. — Welcome home. 
 
 [ To L AKflCS. 
 Enter SiciNics and BnuTfs. 
 Behold ! these are the tribunes of tlie people, 
 The tongues o' the common mouth. I do despise 
 
 them 
 For they do prank hem in authority, 
 Against all noble sutlerance. 
 
 Sie. Pass no further. 
 
 Cur. Ha! what is that] 
 
 Bru. It will be dangerous to 
 
 Go on: no further. 
 
 Cur. What makes this change? 
 
 Men. Tiie matter! 
 
 Com. Hath he not pass'd the nobles, and Uie 
 commons ] 
 
 Bru. Cominius, no. 
 
 Cur. Have I had children's voic»s? 
 
 1 Sen. Tribunes, give way : he shall to the mar- 
 ket-place. 
 
 Bru. The people are incens'd against him. 
 
 Sie. Stop, 
 
 Or all will liiU in broil. 
 
 Cur. Are these your herd? — 
 
 Must these have voices, I hat can y'ield them now. 
 And "traight disclaim their tongues ?— What are 
 
 your offices? 
 You being their mouths, why rule you not their 
 
 teeth ? 
 Have you not set them on ? 
 Men. Be calm, be calm. 
 
 Cor. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot, 
 To curb the will of the nobility : — 
 Sul&r it, and live with such as cannot rule, 
 Nor ever will be rul'd. 
 
 Bru. Call't not a plot: 
 
 The people cry, you mock'd them; and, of late, 
 When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd; 
 Scandal'd the suppliants lor the people ; call'd them 
 Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. 
 
 Cur. Why, this was known before. 
 
 Bru. Not to them all. 
 
 Cur. Have you inform'd them since ? 
 
 Bru. How! 1 inform them? 
 
 Cur. You are like to do such business. 
 
 Bru. Not unlike 
 
 Each way to better yours. 
 
 Cur. Why then should I be consul? By yon clouds 
 Let nie deserve so ill as you, and make me 
 Your lellow-tribune. 
 
 Sic. You show too much of that, 
 
 For which the people stir: If you will pass 
 To where you are bound, you must inquire your 
 
 way. 
 Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit; 
 Or never be .so noble as a consul. 
 Nor yoke with him for tribune.' 
 
 Men. Let's be calm. 
 
 Cum. The people are abus'd:— Set on.— This 
 palt'ring^ 
 Becomes not Rome ; nor has Coriolanus 
 Dc.serv'd this so dishonor'd rub, laid falsely 
 r the plain way of his merit. 
 
 Cur. Tell me of corn ! 
 
 This was my speech, and I will speak't again ;— 
 
 Men. Not now, not now. 
 
 1 Sen. Not in this heat, sir, now. 
 
 Cur. Now, as I live, I will.— My nobler friends, 
 I crave their pardons:^ 
 
 For the mutable, ranlc-scented many, let them 
 Regard me as I do not flatter, and 
 Therein behold themselves: I say again. 
 In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate 
 The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition. 
 Which we our.selves have plough 'd lor, sow'd, and 
 
 scatter'd, 
 By mingling them with us, the honor'd number; 
 Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that 
 Winch Ihey have given to beggars. 
 
 Men, Well, no more. 
 
 I Sen. No more words, we beseech you. 
 
 Cur. How ! no more ? 
 
 As lor my country I have shed my blood. 
 Not fearing outward lorce, so shall my lungs 
 Coin words till they decay, against those meazels^ 
 Which we disdain should tetter' us, yet sought 
 The very way to catch them. 
 
 Bru. You speak o' the people 
 
 As if you were a god to punish, not 
 A man of their iniirmity. 
 
 * Wciijliing. t fbuffiing. e Lepers. i Scab. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 557 
 
 Sic. 'Twere well, 
 
 We let the people know't. 
 
 Men. What, what ? his cliolcr 1 
 
 Cor. Choler! 
 Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, 
 By Jove, 'twould be my mind. 
 
 Sic. It is a mind, 
 
 That shall remain a poison where it is. 
 Not poison any further. 
 
 Ctrr. Shall remain I — 
 
 Hear you this Triton of the minnows ^ marl; you 
 His absolute shall? 
 
 Com. 'Twas from the canon.' 
 
 Cm: Shall .' 
 
 S'^od. but most unwise patricians, why. 
 
 You t^rave, hut reckless senators, have you thus 
 
 Given Hydra here to clioose an odicer. 
 
 That with Ins iieremjitory .'ihall. bein^ but 
 
 The horn and noise o' ihc monsters,wants not spirit 
 
 To say, ho* 11 turn your current in a ditch. 
 
 And make your channel his ? If he have power, 
 
 Then vail your i;;norance; if none, awake 
 
 Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned, 
 
 Be not as common fools ; if you are not. 
 
 Let tiieui have cushions by you. Vou are plebeians. 
 
 If they be senators ; and they are no less. 
 
 Wlien both your voices blended, the greatest taste 
 
 Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate; 
 
 And such a one as he, who puts his shall. 
 
 His popular shall. a:;ainst a graver bench 
 
 Than ever frown'd in tireece! By Jove himself. 
 
 It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches. 
 
 To know, when two authorities are up, 
 
 Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
 
 May enter twixt the gap of both, and take 
 
 The one by the other. 
 
 Com. Well — on to the market-place. 
 
 Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth 
 The corn o* the slore-house gratis, as 'twas used 
 Sometime in Greece, ■ 
 
 Men. Well, well, no more of that. 
 
 Cor. (Though there the people had more absolute 
 power.) 
 
 1 say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed 
 The' ruin of the state. 
 
 Bru. Why, .shall the people give 
 
 One, that speaks thus, their voice? 
 
 Cur. I'll give my reasons, 
 
 More worthier than their voices. They know, the 
 
 corn 
 Was not our recompense : resting well assured 
 They ne'er did service for't: Being press'd tothewar, 
 Kven when the navel of the state was touch'd. 
 They would not thread the gates; this kind of 
 
 service 
 Did not deserve corn gratis : being i' the war. 
 Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd 
 Most valor, spoke not tor them : The accusation 
 Which they have often made against the senate. 
 All cause nnborn, could never be the native^ 
 Of our so frank donation. Well, what then 1 
 How shall Ibis bosom multiplied digest 
 The senate's courtesy I Let deeds express 
 What's like to be their words:— (Ce itid request it, 
 We are the greater poll,' anil in true fear 
 They gave us our demands : — Thus we debase 
 The' nature of our seats, and make the rabble 
 Call our cares, fears : wliich will in time break ope 
 The locks o' the senate, and bring in the crows 
 To peck the eagles. — 
 
 Men. Come, enough. 
 
 Bru. Enough, with over-measure. 
 
 C 'r. No, take more : 
 
 Wiiat may be sworn by, both divine and human. 
 Seal what I end wilhaf !— This double worship,— 
 Where one part does disdain with cause, the other 
 Insultwithoutall reason;wherc gentry.title,\visdom 
 Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no 
 Of general ignorance, — it must omit 
 Keal necessities, and give way the while 
 Tounstableslightuess: purpose .^o barr'd,it follows, 
 Nolliing is done to purpose: Therefore, beseech 
 
 you, — 
 You tliat will be less fearful than discreet; 
 That love the iundaiuental part of state. 
 More than you doubt- the change oft; that prefer 
 A noble life before a long, and wish 
 
 • AccordiiiK to law, 
 
 • Motive, no doubt, was Sh.ikspeare's word. 
 
 • Kumber. i Fe.ar. 
 
 To.jump^ a body with a dangerous physic 
 That's sure of death without it,— at once pluck out 
 The multitudinous tongue, let them not lick 
 The sweet which is their poison : your dishonor 
 Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state 
 (if that integrity which should become it; 
 Not having the power to do the good it would 
 For the ill which doth control it. 
 
 Bru. He has said enough. 
 
 Sic. He has spoken like a traitor,and shall answer 
 As traitors do. 
 
 Cor. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee! — 
 What should the people do with these bald tri- 
 bunes'! 
 On whom depending, tlieir obedience fails 
 To the greater bench : in a rebellion. 
 When what's not meet, but what must be, was law. 
 Then were they chosen ; in a better hour, 
 Let what is meet, be .said it must be meet. 
 And throw their power i' the dust. 
 
 Bru. Manifest treason. 
 
 Sic. This a consul ] no. 
 
 Bru. The asdiles, ho !— Let him be apprehended. 
 
 Sic. Go, call the people ; [Exit Brutus.] in whose 
 name, myself 
 Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator, 
 A foe to the public weal : Obey, I charge thee, 
 Anil follow to thine answer. 
 
 Cor. Hence, old goat ! 
 
 Sen. S,- Pat. We'll surety him. 
 
 Com. Aged sir, hands off. 
 
 Cor. Hence,rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones 
 Out of thy garments. 
 
 Sic. Help, ye citizens. 
 
 Re-enter Bituxcs, with the J^diles, and a Rabble 
 of Citizens. 
 
 Men. On both sides more respect. 
 
 .Sic. Here's he, that would 
 
 Take from you all your power. 
 
 Bru. Seize him, aidiles. 
 
 at. Down with him, down with him ! 
 
 [Several speak. 
 
 2 Sen. ^Veapons, weapons, weapons ! 
 
 [The;/ all tnistle about Coriolaxls. 
 Tribunes, patricians', citizens ! — what ho ! — 
 Siciiiius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens ! 
 
 at. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold, peace! 
 
 Men. What is about to be ?— I am out of breath : 
 Confusion's near: 1 cannot speak: — You, tribunes, 
 To the people, — Coriolanus, patience: — 
 Speak, good Sicinius. 
 
 Sic. Hear me, people; — Peace. 
 
 at. Let's hear our tribune; — Peace. Speak,speak, 
 speak. 
 
 Sen. Y'ou are at point to lose your liberties : 
 Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, 
 Whom late you have named for consul. 
 
 Men. Fye, fye, fye ! 
 
 This is the way to kindle, not to quench. 
 
 1 Sen. To unbuild tiie city, and to lay all flat. 
 
 Sit. What is the city, but the people 7 
 
 at. True, 
 
 The people are the city. 
 
 Bru. By the consent of all we were established 
 The people's magistrates. 
 
 at. You so remain. 
 
 Men. And so are like to do. 
 
 Ctrr. That is the way to lay the city Hat; 
 To bring tlie roof to the foundation; 
 And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges. 
 In heaps and piles of ruin. 
 
 Sic. This deserves dcatii. 
 
 Bru. Or let us stand to our authority. 
 Or let us lose it ; — We do here pronounce, 
 Upon the part o' the peoiile. in whose power 
 We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy 
 Of present death. 
 
 Sic. Therefore, lay hold of him : 
 
 Bear him to the rock Tarpeian,-! and from thence 
 Into destruction cast him. 
 
 Bru. iEdiles, seize him. 
 
 at. Y'ield, Marcius, yield. 
 
 Men. Hear me, one word. 
 
 Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. 
 
 .i^di. Peace, peace. 
 
 Men. Be that you seem, truly jour country's 
 friend, 
 
 • liisk. 
 
 « Whence crmiinals wore thrown, and dashed to pieces 
 
658 
 
 CORIOLANUb-. 
 
 Act. til 
 
 And tcT7iiierately proceed to what you would 
 Thus violently redress. . 
 
 Bra. Sir, those cold ways, 
 
 That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous 
 Where the disease is violent: — Lay hands upon him, 
 And bear him to tlie rock. 
 
 Cor. No; I'll die here. 
 
 [Drawing hit Sword, 
 There s some amonfr you have beheld ine Hfrhting; 
 Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. 
 Men. Down with that sword;— Tribunes, with- 
 draw a while. 
 Bru. Lay hands upon him. 
 Men. Help Marcius! help. 
 
 Vou Ihat be noble ; help him, young and old ! 
 at. Down witli him, down with him ! 
 
 [In thi-i Mtitinii, the Tribunes, the .SEdiles, 
 and the People, are all beat in. 
 Men. Go, get yon lo your house; begone, away, 
 All will be naught else. 
 2 Sen. Get you gone. 
 
 Cur. Standfast; 
 
 We iiave as nianv friends as enemies. 
 Men. Shall it lie put to thaf! 
 2 Sen. The gods forbid ! 
 
 I pr y thee, noble friend, home to thy house ; 
 Leave us to cure this cause. 
 
 ^len. Kor 'tis a sore upon ns, 
 
 You cannot tent yourself: Begone, 'beseech you. 
 Com. Come, sir. along with us. 
 Cur. I would they were barbarians, (as they are. 
 Though in Rome littei'd,) not Romans, (as they 
 
 are not. 
 Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol,!— 
 
 ■ Men. Begone; 
 
 Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; 
 One time will owe anottier. 
 
 Cm: On fair ground, 
 
 I could beat forty of them. 
 
 Men. I could myself 
 
 Take up a brace of the best of them ; yea, the two 
 tribunes. 
 Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic : 
 And manhood is call'd Ibolefy, when it stands 
 Against a iiilling f ibric. — Will you hence. 
 Before the tag'' return f whose rage doth rend 
 Like interrujited waters, and o'erbear 
 What they are used to bear. 
 , Men. Pray you, begone : 
 
 I li try whether my old nit be in request 
 Willi those thathave but little; thisniust be patch'd 
 Willi cloth of any color. 
 Com. Nay, come away, 
 
 [Exeunt Cor., Com., and others. 
 
 1 Fat. This man lias marr'd his fortune. 
 Aren. His nature is too noble for the world: 
 
 lie would not (latter Neptune tor his trident. 
 
 Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's Ins 
 
 mouth : 
 What his breast forges, Ihat his tongue must vent; 
 And, being angry, does forget that ever 
 He lieai-d the name of death. [A iVoisc within. 
 
 Here's goodly work ! 
 
 2 Put. I would they were a-bed ! 
 Men. I would they were in TytJer !— What, the 
 
 vengeance. 
 Could he not speak them fair? 
 
 Re-enter Bruti's and Sicisius, witli the Raltble. 
 
 Sic. Where is this viper, 
 
 That would depopulate the city, and 
 Be every man hiniscllT 
 
 Men. You worthy tribunes, 
 
 S'jc. He shall be thrown down the'Tarpeian rock 
 With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law. 
 And therefore law shall scorn him further trial 
 Than the severity of the public power, 
 Wliieh he so sels at nought. 
 
 1 ('(7. He shall well know. 
 The noble tribunes arc the people's mouths, 
 Anil we their hands. 
 
 at. He shall, sure oii't. 
 
 [Several speak together. 
 
 Men. Sir,— 
 
 Sii: Peace. 
 
 Men. Do not cry. havoc, where you should but 
 hunt 
 With, modest warrant. 
 
 * Tho lowest of the populace, ti^, r.ig, and bobt.Hil. 
 
 Sic. Sir, how comes it, that you 
 
 Have holp to make this rescue? 
 
 l^Ien. Hear me speak : — 
 
 As 1 do know the consul s worthiness, 
 
 So can I name his faults ; 
 
 ''•''>■ Consul !— What consul ? 
 
 Men. The consul Coriolanus. 
 Bra. He a consul ? 
 
 at. No, no, no, no, no. 
 
 Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, gooil 
 people, 
 I may be heard. I'd crave a word or two; 
 The which shall turn you to no further harm, 
 Than so much loss of time. 
 
 Sic. Speak briefly then ; 
 
 For we are peremptory, to despatch 
 This viperous traiinr: to eject him hence. 
 Were but one danger; and, to keep him here. 
 Our certain death ; Ihcrelbre it is decreed. 
 He dies to-night. 
 
 Men. Now the good gods forbid. 
 
 That our renowned Rome, whose gralitude 
 Towards her deserved^ children isVnrolI'd 
 In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam 
 Should now eat up her own I 
 Sic. He's a disease, that must be cut away. 
 Men. O, he's a limb, that has but a disease; 
 Mortal, to cut it olf; to cure it, easy. 
 What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death? 
 Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost, 
 (Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath. 
 By many an ounce.) he dropp'd it for his country. 
 .\nd, what is lelt, to lose it by his country. 
 Were to us all that do'l, and sutler it, 
 A brand to the end o' the world. 
 Sic. This is clean kam.' 
 
 Bru. McrelySawry: whenhedid lovehiscountry. 
 It honor'd him. 
 
 Men. The service of the foot 
 
 Being once gangren'd, is it not then respected 
 For what betbre it was ? 
 
 Bru. We'll hear no more :— 
 
 Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence ; 
 Lest his infection, being of catching nature. 
 Spread further. 
 
 Men. One word more, one word. 
 
 This tiger-footed rage, when it shall hiid 
 The harm of unscann'd swilTness,9 will, too late. 
 Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by pro- 
 cess; 
 Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out, 
 .\nd sack great Rome with Romans. 
 Bru. Ifitwercso,— 
 
 .Sic. What do you talk? 
 Have we not had a taste of his obedience? 
 Our ffidilcs smote ? ourselves resisted ? Come: — 
 Men. Considerthis; — he has been bred i' the wars 
 Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd 
 In boulted' language; meal and bran together 
 He throws without distinction. Give die leave, 
 I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him 
 Where he shall answer ti>' a lawful tbnii, 
 (In jieace,) to his utmost peril. 
 
 I Sen. Noble tribunes. 
 
 It is the humane way: the other cnmse 
 Will prove too bloody ; and the end of it 
 Unkiiovi'n to the beginning. 
 
 Sif. Noble Mencnius, 
 
 Be you then as tho people's ufticer : 
 i\Iasters, lay down your weapons. 
 Bru. Go not home. 
 
 Sic. Meet on the market-place :— We'll attend 
 you there : 
 Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed 
 In our hrst way. 
 
 Men. I'll bring him to you : — 
 
 Let me desire your compa'ny. [To the Senators.] 
 
 He must come. 
 Or what is worst will follow. 
 1 Sen. Pray you, let's to him. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE.N'E II.— .4 Room in Coriolanus' House. 
 Enter CoRiOLAXfS, and Patricians. 
 
 Cor. Let Ilieni pull all about mine ears; present me 
 Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels; 
 Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock. 
 That the precipitation might down stretch 
 
 « -M'solutely. 
 
 * I'inoly sifted. 
 
 6 Peserving. ' Quite awry. 
 
 9 lucunsiderate haste. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 559 
 
 Below the beam of sight, yet will I still 
 Be thus to them. 
 
 Enter Volumnta. 
 
 1 Paf. You do the nobler. 
 
 Cor. I muse,2 my mother 
 Does not approve me further, who was wont 
 To call them woollen vassals, things created 
 To buy and sell with groats; lo show bare heads 
 In confrreirntioiis. to yawn, be still and wonder, 
 When one but of my ordinance^ stood up 
 To speak of peace, or war. I talk of v'ou ; 
 
 [To VOLUMNIA. 
 
 Why did j-ou wish me milder? Would you have me 
 False, to my nature .' llather say, I play 
 The man I am. 
 
 To/. O. sir, sir, sir, 
 
 I would have had you put your power well on, 
 Before you had worn it out. 
 
 C'ir. Let go. 
 
 Vol. You might have been enough the man you 
 are, 
 With striving less to be so : Lesser had been 
 The thwarlings of your dispositions, if 
 You had not show'd them hnw you were disposM, 
 Ere they lack'd power to cross you. 
 
 Cor. Let them hang. 
 
 VuL Ay, and burn too. 
 
 Enter Menenius, and Senators. 
 
 Men. Come, come, you have been too rough, 
 something too rough ; 
 You must return and mend it. 
 
 1 Sen. There's no remedy ; 
 
 Unh^ss. by not so doing, our good city 
 Cleave in the midst, and perish. 
 
 Vol. Pray, be counsclTd : 
 
 I have a heart as little apt as yours, 
 But yet a bram. that leads my use of anger, 
 To t)ctter vantage. 
 
 Men. Well said, noble woman : 
 
 Before ho should thus stoop to the herd, but that 
 The violent tit o' the time craves it as physic 
 For the whole stale, I would jiut mine armor on, 
 Which I can scarcely bear. 
 
 Cor. What must I'do l 
 
 Men. Return to the tribunes. 
 
 Cor. Well, 
 
 What then? what then 1 
 
 Men. Repent what you have spoke. 
 
 Cor. For them 1 — I cannot do it to the gods ; 
 Must I then do't to them ] 
 
 Vol. You are ton absolute; 
 
 Though therein yon can never be too noble. 
 But when extremitiesspeak. 1 have lieard you say, 
 Honor and policy, like uiisever'd friends, 
 r the war do grow together: Grant that, and tell me, 
 In peace, what each uf them by th' other lose. 
 That they combine not there. . 
 
 Cor. Tush, tush ! 
 
 Men. A good demand. 
 
 Vol. If It be honor, in yoxir wars, to seem 
 The same you are not, (which, for your best ends. 
 You adopt your policy,) how is it les^ or worse, 
 That it shiiil hold companionship in peace 
 With honor as in war; since that to both 
 It stands in like request 1 
 
 Cf/r. Why force you this? 
 
 Vol. Because that now it lies on yon to speak 
 To the people; not by your own instruction, 
 Nor by the matter v^diich your heart prompts you to, 
 lint with such words that are but roted in 
 Your tongue, though but bastards, and syllables 
 Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth. 
 Now, thisn*) more dishonors yon at all, 
 Tlian to take in^ a town with genlle words. 
 Which else would put you to yuur lortune, and 
 The hnzard of much blood. — 
 I would dissemble with my nature, where 
 ]\Iy fortune, and my friends, at stnke, requir'd 
 I sh )uhl do so in honor: 1 am in this, 
 Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; 
 And you will rather show our general lowts'' 
 Ilowyou can frown, than spend a tiivvn upon them, 
 For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard 
 Of what that want might ruin. 
 
 Men. Noble lady !— 
 
 Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, 
 
 a Wonder. » Rank. 
 
 « Subdue. « Common clowns. 
 
 Not what is dangerous present, but the loss 
 Of what is past. 
 
 Vol. I pr'ythee, now, my son. 
 
 Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand ; 
 A nd thus far having stretch'd it,(herE be with them.) 
 Tliy knee bussing the stones, (ior in such business 
 Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant 
 More learned than the ears.) waving thy head, 
 winch often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, 
 Now humble, as the ripest mulberry. 
 That will not hold the handling: Or, say to them. 
 Thou art their soldier, and, being bred in broils, 
 Hasl not the sort way, which, thou dost confess. 
 Were tit for thee to use, as they to claim. 
 In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame 
 Thyself Ibrsooth, hereafter theirs, so far 
 As thou hast power, and person. 
 
 Men. This hut done, 
 
 Kven as she speaks, why, all their hearts were 
 
 yours : 
 For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free 
 As words to little purpose. 
 
 Vol. Pr'ythee now, 
 
 Go, and be ruled: although, Tknow, thou hadst 
 
 rather 
 Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf. 
 Than (latter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. 
 
 Enter CoMiNirs. 
 
 Com. I have been i' the market-place; and, sir, 
 'tis tit 
 You make strong party, or defend yourself 
 By calmness, or by absence, all's in anger. 
 
 Men. Only tair speech. 
 
 Com. I think, 'twill ser^-e, if ho 
 
 Ciiri thereto frame his gpirit 
 
 Vol. He must, and will; — 
 
 Pr'ythee, now, say, you will, and go about it. 
 
 C(/r. Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce 1^ 
 Must I, 
 With my base tongue, give to my noble heart 
 A lie. that it must bear 1 Well, I will do't : 
 Yet were there but this single plot to lose, 
 Tliismouldof Marcius,they to dust should grind it, 
 And throw it against the wind.— To the market- 
 place : 
 You have put me now to such a part, which never 
 I sliall discharge to the life. 
 
 Com. Come, come, we'll prompt you. 
 
 Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son; as thou hast 
 said 
 My praises made thee first a soldier, so. 
 To have my praise for this, perform a part 
 Tlu)u hast not done before. 
 
 Cor. Well, I must do't: 
 
 Away, mv disposition, and possess me 
 Some harlot's spirit ! My throat of war be turn'd, 
 Wliich quired with my drum, into a pipe 
 Small as an eunucli. or the virgin voice 
 That babies lulls asleep ! Tlie smiles of knaves 
 Tent' in my cheeks ; and scliool-boys' tears take up 
 The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue 
 Make motion through my lips; and my arm'd 
 
 knees, 
 Who bow'd hut in my stirrup, bend like his 
 That hath receiv'd an alms! — I will not do't: 
 Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth, 
 And, by my body's action, teach my mind 
 A most inherent baseness. 
 
 Vol. At thy choice then : 
 
 To beg of thee, it is my more dishonor, 
 Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let 
 Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear 
 Thy diiugerous stoutness ; for I mock at death 
 With as big heart as thou. Do as tliou list. 
 Thy valiantness was m inc. thou suck'dst it from me; 
 But owe^ thy pride thyself. 
 
 Cor. pray, be content; 
 
 Mother, T am going to the market-place; 
 Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, 
 Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd 
 Of ail the tnides in Rome. Look. I am going: 
 Commend me to mv wTfe. I'll return consul ; 
 Or never trust to what my tongue can do 
 r the way of llattery, further. 
 
 Vol. Do your will. [Exit. 
 
 Com. Away, the tribunes do attend you: arm 
 yourself 
 To ansvver mildly ; for they are prepar'd 
 
 9 Unshaven head. ^ Dwell. ' Own. 
 
560 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act III. Scene III 
 
 With accusations, as I hear, more strong 
 Than are upon you j'et. 
 
 Cur. The word is, mildly: — Pray you, let us go; 
 Let thctn accuse me by invention', I 
 Will answer in mine honor. 
 
 Men. Ay, but mildly. 
 
 Cor. Well, mildly be it then; mildly. [Ejreunt. 
 
 SCENE lU.—The Forum. 
 Enter StciNirs and BiiuTVS. 
 
 Bru. In this point charge him home.that he affects 
 Tyrannical power: II lie evade us there. 
 Enforce him with his envy to the people; 
 And that the spoil, got on" the Antiates, 
 Was ne'er distributed. — 
 
 Enter an MdWe. 
 What, will he come ? 
 
 jErl. He's coming. 
 
 Bru. Hmv accompanied f 
 
 Aid. With old Monenius, and those senators 
 That always favor'd him. 
 
 Sk. Have you a catalogue 
 
 Of all the voices that we have procur'd, * 
 Set down by the poll ] 
 
 ^^d. I have; 'tis ready, here. 
 
 Sic. Have you collected them by tribes 1 
 
 ^d. I have. 
 
 Sic. Assemble presently the people hither: 
 And when they hear me say. It s/iall be so 
 r t/ie riglit and strengl/i of the commons, be it either 
 For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them. 
 If I say, tine, cry fine ; if death, cry death; 
 Insisting on the old prerogative 
 And power i' the truth o' the cause. 
 
 '^I. . I shall inlbrm them. 
 
 Bru. And when such lime they have begun tocry, 
 Let them not cease, but with a din conlus'd 
 Enforce the present execution 
 Of what we chance to sentence. 
 
 -■Ed. Very well. 
 
 Sic. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint, 
 When we shall hap to give't them. 
 
 Bru. Go about it.— 
 
 [Exit iEdile. 
 Put him to choler straight: He hath been used 
 Ever to conquer, and to have his worth 
 Of contradiction : Being once chafed, he cannot 
 Be rein'd again to temijcranee ; then he speaks 
 What s in his heart ; and that is there, which looks 
 With us to break his neck. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, Senators, 
 and Patricians. 
 
 Sic. Well, here he conies. 
 
 Men. Calmly, I do beseech you. 
 
 Ccrr. Ay, as an ostler, that for tlie poorest piece 
 Will bear the knaves by the volume.— The honor'd 
 
 gods 
 Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice 
 Supplied with worthy men ! plant love among us ! 
 Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, 
 And not our streets with war ! 
 
 1 Sen. Amen, amen! 
 
 Men. A noble wish. 
 
 Re-enter iEdile, ivith Citizens. 
 
 Sic. Draw near, ye people. 
 
 uEd. List to your tribunes; audience: Peace, I 
 say. 
 
 Cnr. First, hear me speak. 
 
 Both Tri. VVell. say.— Peace, ho. 
 
 Cw.Shall I be charged no further than thispresent? 
 Must all determine here ? 
 
 Sic. I do demand. 
 
 If you submit you to the people's voices. 
 Allow tlieir otKcers, and are content 
 To snili'r lawful censure for such faults 
 As shall be prov'd upon you .' 
 
 f''"'- I am content. 
 
 Men. Lo. citizens, he says, he is content: 
 The warlike .service he has done, consider; 
 Think on the wounds his body bears, which show 
 Like graves i the holy churchyard. 
 „ t'f'/'. Scratches with briars. 
 
 Scars to move langhtcr only. 
 „,^'"'- , , Consider further, 
 
 That when he speaks not like a citizen, 
 Vou lind him like a soldier : Do not take 
 
 ' Will lie.'ir beiUK railed u klKlve. 
 
 His rougher accents for malicious sounds. 
 But, as I say, such as become a soldier, 
 Rather than envyi you. 
 
 Com. Well, well, no more. 
 
 Cor. What is the matter. 
 That, being pass'd for consul with full voice, 
 I am so dishonor'd, that lihe very hour 
 You take it off again ! 
 
 Sic. Answer to us. 
 
 Cor. Say then : 'tis true, I ought so. 
 
 Sic.We charge you,that you have contrived to take 
 From Rome all season'd^ office, and to wind 
 Yourself into a power tyrannical ; 
 For which, you are a traitor to the people. 
 
 Ctrr. How ! Traitor? 
 
 Men. Nay ; temperately : Y'our promise. 
 
 Cor. The fires i' the lowest hell fold in the people ! 
 Call me their traitor !— Thou injurious tribune! 
 Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, 
 In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in 
 Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, 
 Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free 
 As I do pray the gods. 
 
 Sic- Mark you this, people ? 
 
 at. To the rock with him ; to the rock with him ! 
 
 PCQCG» 
 
 We need not put new matter to his charge : 
 What you have seen him do, and heard him speak, 
 Beating your otJicers, cursing yourselves, 
 Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying 
 Those whose great power must try him; even this, 
 So criminal, and in such capital kind. 
 Deserves the extremest death. 
 
 „ ■'''■,",• But since he hath 
 
 Serv d well for Rome, 
 
 Cor. What, do vou prate of servicel 
 
 Bru. I talk of that, that know it. 
 
 C'"'- You ? 
 
 .^^l"'- Is this 
 
 The promise that you made your mother? 
 , Com. Know, 
 
 I pray you, 
 
 Cor. I'll know no further: 
 
 Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, 
 Vagabond exile, flaying; pent to linger 
 But with a grain a day : I would not buy 
 Their mercy at the price of one fair word; 
 Nor check my courage for what they can give. 
 To have t witli saying, Good morrow. 
 
 Sic. For that he has 
 
 (As much as in him lies) fVom time to time 
 Envied^ against the people, seeking means 
 To plu!-k away their power; as now at last 
 Given hostile .-trokes.and that nofi in the presence 
 Of dreaded lustiee, but on the ministers 
 That do distribute it; In the name o' the people. 
 And in the power of us the tribunes, we, 
 Even from this instant, banish him our city; 
 In peril of precipitation 
 From off the rock Tarpeian, never more 
 To enter our Rome gates; I' the people's name, 
 I say, it shall be so. 
 
 at. It shall be so. 
 
 It shall be so ; let him away : he's banished. 
 And so it shall be. 
 
 Com. Hear me, my masters, and my common 
 fViends ; 
 
 Sic. He's sentenced : no more hearing. 
 
 Com. Let me speak: 
 
 I have been consul, and can show from' Rome, 
 Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love 
 iMy country's good, with a respect more tender. 
 More holy and profound, than mine own life, 
 My dear wife's estiinate,6 her womb's increase, 
 And treasure of my loins; then if 1 would 
 Speak that 
 
 Sic. _ We know your drill: Speak what? 
 
 Bru. There s no more to be said,but he is banish'd, 
 As enemy to the people, and his country : 
 It shall be so. 
 
 Cil- It shall be so, it shall be so. 
 
 Cor. You common cry' of curs ! whoso breath I 
 hate 
 As reek'* o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
 As the dead carcasses of unburied men 
 That do corrujit my air, I banish you ; 
 And here remain with your uncerlaiiity ! 
 Let every feeble rumor shake your hearts! 
 * Mali.-e. a (If long stHnding. a .^flowed liatred. 
 « Kot only. • Fur. ' \ti\aa t Pack. ■ yapor. 
 
Act IV. Scene IT. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 561 
 
 Your enemies, with nodding of their phimes, 
 Fan you into despair! have the power still 
 To banish your detbndcrs; till, at icnsth, 
 Your ignorance, (which linds not, till it ieels,) 
 Making not reservation of yourselves, 
 (Stilt your own foes,) deliver you, as most 
 Abated^ captives, to some nation 
 That won you without blows ! Despising, 
 For you. the city, thus I turn my back : 
 There is a world elsewhere. 
 
 \_ExCUnt CuRIOLANfS, COMINIL'S, Me.n'exii'S, 
 
 Senators, and Patricians. 
 
 jEdi. The people's eneioY is gone, is gone I 
 Hit. Our enemy's banish"'d ! he is gone! Hoo! 
 hoo ! 
 \_The People shoitf, and ihrow up fheir Caps. 
 Sic. Go^ see him out at gates, and tollow Jiim, 
 As he hath follovv'd you, with all despite ; 
 Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard 
 Attend us through the city. 
 Cif. Come, come, let us see him out at gates; 
 come : — 
 The gods preserve our noble tribunes! — Come. 
 
 [E^-eunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.—Brjiin a Grite nf the City. 
 Enter Coriolanxs, Volumxia, Viugilia, Mexe- 
 
 Nii"s, CoMiNiLS, and several young Patricians. 
 
 Car. Come, leave your tears; a brief i'arcwell: — 
 the beast 
 With many heads butts me away. — Nay, mother, 
 Where is your ancient courage 1 you were used 
 To say, extremity was the trier of spirits; 
 That cornnion ctiances common men could bear ; 
 That, wiien the sea was calm, all boats alike 
 Show'd mastership in lloatinj; : fortune's bitfws. 
 When most strucis home, being gentle wounded, 
 
 craves 
 A noble cunning: you were used to load me 
 With precepts, that would make invincible 
 The iieart Ihat coiui'd them. 
 
 Vir. heavens ! O heavens ! 
 
 Cor. Nay, 1 pr'ythee, woman, — 
 
 Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in 
 Rome, 
 And occupations perish ! 
 
 Cor. What, what, what ! 
 
 I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd ! Nay, molher. 
 Resume that s])iril, when you were wont to say, 
 If you liad been the wile oi Hercules, 
 Six of his labors youVI have done, and sav*d 
 Your husband .so much sweat. Coniinius, 
 Droop not; adieu :— Farewell, my wife! my mo- 
 ther! 
 I'll do well yet.— Thou old and true Menenius, 
 Thy tears are sailer than a younuer man's. 
 And venonrous to thine eyes.— My sometime gen- 
 eral 
 I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld 
 Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women, 
 'Tis fond' to wail inevitable strokes. 
 As 'tis to laugh at them. — My mother, you wot well 
 My hazards still have been your solace : and 
 Believe't not lightly, (I hough I -go alone 
 Like to a lonely dragon, that his ten 
 Makes fear'd.aiidlalk'd of more than. seen, )you'r son 
 Will, or exceed the ciuiiinoii, or be caught 
 With cautelou.s- baits and practice. 
 
 Vol. My first' son, 
 
 Whither wilt thou go 7 Take good Cominius 
 With thee a while ; Determine on some course, 
 More than a wild exposture^ to each chance 
 That starts i' the way before thee. 
 
 Cor. ^ O the gods ! 
 
 Com. I II follow thee a month, devise with thee 
 Where thou shall resl, llial thou mavst hear of us, 
 And wo of thee : so. if the tune thriist tbrth 
 A cause liar thy repeal, we shall not send 
 O'er the vast world, to seek a single man ; 
 And lose advantage, which doth ever cool 
 r the absence of the needer. 
 
 Cor. Fare ye well : 
 
 Thou hast years upon thee ; and Ihou art too full 
 (If the war's surl'eits, to go rove with one 
 Thai's yet uubruis'd: bring me but out at gate.— 
 Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and 
 My friends of noble touch,* when 1 am Ibrth, 
 Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. 
 While I remain above the ground, 'you shall 
 Hear from me still ; and never of me aught 
 But what is like me Ibrmerly. 
 
 Men. That's worthily 
 
 As any ear can hear.— Come, let's not weep.— 
 
 s Subdui^d. 
 
 ' Foolish. 
 
 
 » Noblest. 
 
 « E.xpiisuro. 
 
 3G 
 
 * True metiil. 
 
 If I could shake olT bul one seven years 
 
 From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, 
 
 I'd with thee every loot. 
 
 Cc/r. Give me thy hand ; — 
 
 Come. \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Street near the Gate. 
 Enter Sicixus, BntJTrs, arid an iEdilc. 
 Sic. Bid them all home ; he's gone, and we'll no 
 further. — 
 The nobility are vcx'd, who, we see, have sided 
 In his behalf 
 
 Bru. Now we have shown our power. 
 
 Let us seem humbler aOer it is done. 
 Than when it was a-doing. 
 
 Nic. Bid them home: 
 
 Say, their great enemy is gone, and they 
 Stand in their ancient strength. 
 Bru. Dismiss them home. 
 
 [Exit .^■:dile. 
 Enter Volumxia, Viecilia, and Mexenivs. 
 Here comes his mother. 
 Nic. Let's not meet her. 
 
 Bru. Wliy ? 
 
 iS'tc. They say, slie's mad. 
 
 Bru. They have ta'en note of us: 
 
 Keep on your way. 
 
 Vol. t),_you're well mel: The hoarded plague 
 o' the gods 
 Requite your love! 
 Men. Peace, peace; be not so loud. 
 
 Vol. If that I could lor weeping, you should 
 hi'ar,— 
 Nay, and you shall hear some.— Will yon be gone 1 
 
 [To BKL'TI'8. 
 
 Vir. You shall stay too: [To Sicix.] I would, 
 I had the ])ower 
 To say so to my husband. 
 
 Sic. Are you mankind ? 
 
 Vol. Ay, fool; is tliat a shame 1— Note but this 
 loul.— 
 Was not a man my father? Hadst thou fo;<ship 
 To banish him that struck more blows for Rome, 
 Than thou hast spoken words 1 
 
 Sic. blessed heavens! 
 
 Vol. More noble blows than ever thou wise words; 
 And liir Rome's good.— I'll tell thee what;— 
 
 Yet go : 
 Nay but thou shall stay too : — I would my son 
 Were iu Arabia, and thy tribe before him, 
 His good sword in his hand. 
 
 Sic. What then? 
 
 Vir. What then? 
 
 He d make an end of thy posterit)'. 
 
 Vol. Haslards, and .all.— 
 Good maii.Uie wounds that he does bear for Rome! 
 
 Men. Come, come, peace. 
 
 Sic. 1 would he had continued to his country. 
 As he began ; and not unknit himself 
 The noble knot he made. 
 
 Bru. I would he had. 
 
 Vol. I would he had? 'Twas you incens'd the 
 rabble : 
 Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth 
 As 1 can of those mysteries which heaven 
 Will not have earth to know. 
 
 Bru. Pray, let us go. 
 
 ) W. Now, pray, sir, get you gone : 
 You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this: 
 As liir as doth the Capitol exceed 
 
562 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 The meanest house in Rome : so far, my son, 
 (This lady's husband ficre, this, do you see,) 
 Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all. 
 
 Bru. Well, well, we'll leave you. 
 
 Sic. Why stay we to be baited? 
 
 Wiih one that wants her wits? 
 
 Vul. Take my prayers with you. — 
 
 I would the gods had nothing else lo do. 
 
 [Hvciint Tribunes. 
 But to confirm my curses ! Could 1 meet them 
 liut once a day. it would unclog my heart 
 (Jt what lies heavy to't. 
 
 Men. You have told them home, 
 
 And, by my troth, yoii have cause. You'll sup with 
 me ! 
 
 Vol. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself 
 And so shall starve with feeding. — Come, let s go: 
 Leave this faint puling, and lament as 1 do, 
 In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. 
 
 Jl/i'H. F) e, lye, fye ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— A Highwm/ between Rome and 
 
 Anlium. 
 
 Enter a Roman anri a Voice, meeting. 
 
 Tioni. I know \ou well, sir, and you know me: 
 your name, I think, is Adrian. 
 
 Vdl. It is so, sir; truly, 1 have forgot you. 
 
 I\(nn. I am a Roman ; and my services are, as 
 you are. against them : Know you mc yet 1 
 
 Vtil. Nieanor ? No. 
 
 Ihmi. The same, sir. 
 
 Vol. You had more beard, when I last saw you ; 
 but your lavor^ is well appeared by your tongue. 
 What's the news in Rome ] I have a note from the 
 Volscian state, to find you out there: You have well 
 saved me a day's journey. 
 
 Rom. There hath been in Rome strange insur- 
 rection : the people against the senators, patricians, 
 and nobles. 
 
 Vol. Jlath been! Is it ended then? Our state 
 thinkii not so; they are in a most warlike prepara- 
 iiou, and hope to come upon them in the heat of 
 their division. 
 
 Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a small 
 thing would make it llame again. For the nobles 
 receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy 
 Coriolanus. that they arc in a ripe ajitness to take 
 all power from the people, and to pluck from them 
 their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can 
 tell you, .and is almost mature for' the violent 
 breaking out. 
 
 Vol. Coriolanus banished? 
 
 Horn. Banished, sir. 
 
 Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence, 
 Kicauor- 
 
 Rum.. The day serves well for them now. I have 
 heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife, 
 is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your 
 noble Tullus Autidius will appear well in these 
 wars, his gre^t oi'iposer, Coriolanus, bemg now in 
 no request of his country. 
 
 Vol. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, 
 thus accidentally to encounter you: You have 
 onded my business, and I will merrily accompany 
 you home. 
 
 Rum. I shall, between this and supper, tell 5'ou 
 roost strange things from Rome ; all tending to the 
 good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, 
 say you ? 
 
 i'ol. A most royal one: the centurions, and their 
 charges, distinctly billeted, already in the enter- 
 tainment,' and to be on foot at an hour's warning. 
 
 Uttm. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and 
 am the man, I tliink, that shall set them in present 
 action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad 
 of your company. 
 
 Vol. You take my part from me, sir; I have the 
 most cause to be glad of yours. 
 ^ Rom. Well, let us go together. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Anlium. Before Aufidius's House. 
 Enter CoRioLAXcs, in mean Apparel, disguised 
 and mujfled. 
 Cor. A goodly city is this Anlium: City, 
 'Tis I that made thy widows ; many an heir 
 Of these lair editices 'fore my wars 
 Have I heard groan, and drop: then know me not; 
 Lestlliat thy wiveswith spits, and boys with stones, 
 « Countenance. ' In p.iy. 
 
 Enter a Citizen. 
 In puny battle slay me. — Save you, sir. 
 
 at. And you. 
 
 Cor. Direct me, if it be your will, 
 
 Where great Aufidius lies; Is he in Anlium? 
 
 at. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state, 
 .-Vt bis liouse this night. 
 
 Ctir. Which is his house, 'beseech you? 
 
 at. This, here, belijre you. 
 
 Cor. Thank you. sir ; farewell. 
 
 [Exit Citizen. 
 
 world, thy slippery turns! Friends now liist sworn. 
 Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart. 
 Whose hours,whose bed, whose meal, and exercise^ 
 Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love 
 Unseparable, shall within this hour. 
 
 On a dissension of a doit,'* break out 
 To bitterest enmity : So fellest foes, 
 Whose passions and whose plots have broke their 
 
 sleep 
 To take the one the other, by some chance. 
 Some trick not worth an egg,shall grow dear friends, 
 And interjoin their issues. So with me: — 
 My birth-place hate I. and my love's upon 
 This enemy town. — I'll enter: if he slay me. 
 He does lair justice: if he give me way, 
 I'll do his country service. [ExU. 
 
 SCENE v.— .■! Hall in .Aufidius's House. 
 Music IVilliin. Enter a Ser\ant. 
 
 1 Seri'. Wine, wine, wine ! Whatserviceis here ! 
 
 1 think our fellows are asleep. [ExU, 
 
 Enter unotlier Servant. 
 
 2 Serv. Where's Cotus ? my master calls for him. 
 Cotus ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter Coriot.axus. 
 Cor. A goodly house : The feast smells well, 
 but I 
 Appear not like a guest. 
 
 Re-enter llie first Servant. 
 
 1 Sen'. What would you have, friend ? Whence 
 are you ? Here's no place for you : Pray, go to the 
 door. 
 
 Cor. I have deserved no better entertainment. 
 In being Coriolanus. 
 
 Re-enter second Servant. 
 
 2 Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter 
 his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such 
 companions ? Pray, get you out. 
 
 Cor. Away ! 
 
 2 Serv. Away ? Cct yon away. 
 Cor. Now thou art troublesome. 
 
 1 Serv. Are you so brave ? I'll have you talked 
 with anon. 
 
 Enter a third Servant. The first meets Iiim. 
 
 3 Serv. What fellow's this? 
 
 1 Serv. A .strange one as ever I looked on : I 
 cannot get him out o' the house : Pr'ythee, call my 
 master to him. 
 
 3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow ? Pray 
 you, avoid the house. 
 
 Cor. Let me but stand; I will not hurt your 
 hearth. 
 
 3 Serv. What are you ? 
 
 Cur. A gentleman. 
 
 3 Serv. A marvellous poor one. 
 
 Cerr. True, so I am. 
 
 3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some 
 other station ; here's no place for you ; pray you, 
 avoid : come. 
 
 Cor. Follow your function, go ! 
 And batten^ on cold bits. [Pu.ihes him away. 
 
 3 Serv. What, will you not? Pr'ythee, tell ray 
 master what a strange guest he has here. 
 
 2 Serv. And I shall. [Exit. 
 
 3 Serv. Were dwellest thou? 
 C'rr. Under the canopy. 
 
 3 Serv. Under the canopy ? 
 Cor. Ay. 
 
 3 Serr. Where's that ? 
 Cor. r the city of kites and crows. 
 3 Serv. I'llie city of kites and crows ?— What 
 an ass it is !— Then thou dwellesl with daws too ? 
 Cor. No, I serve not thy master. 
 ' A small coin. ' Feed. 
 
 i 
 
Scene V. 
 
 COEIOLAXUS. 
 
 5G3 
 
 3 Sen'. How, sir! Do you meddle with my 
 master 1 
 
 Cor. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle 
 with thy mistress; 
 
 Thou prat'st, and prat'st; serve with thy trencher, 
 hence ! [Beats him awaij. 
 
 Enter Aufidius, atid the second Servant. 
 
 Aiif. Where is this fellow 1 
 
 2 Sfri\ Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a 
 do^. but for disfurbins the hirds within. 
 
 Auf. Whence comest thou ! wiiat wouldest thou? 
 Thy name 1 
 Why speak st not? Speak, man: What's thy name ? 
 
 Cor. If.TuIlus. [U}ir}itiffii?}s. 
 
 Not yet thou know'st me, and seeing me, dost not 
 Think mo for the man I am. necessity 
 Commands me name myself. 
 
 Auf, What is thy name 1 
 
 [Servants retire. 
 
 Cor. A name unmusical to the Volscians' cars, 
 And harsh in sound to thine. 
 
 Auf. Say, what's thy name? 
 
 Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face 
 Bears a command iri't; though thy tackle's torn, 
 Thou show'st a noble vessel : What's thy name 1 
 
 Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown : Know'st thou 
 me yet ? 
 
 Auf. I knuw thee not : — Thy name ? 
 
 Cor. My name is Caius Marcius. who hath done 
 To thee particularly, and to all the Voices, 
 Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may 
 My surname, Coriolanus : The paintlil service, 
 Tlie extreme dangers, and the drops of blood 
 Shed for my thankless country, are requited 
 Hut with tliat surname; a ^ood memory,' 
 And witness of the malice and displeasure 
 Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name re- 
 mains; 
 The cruelty and envy of the people. 
 Permitted by our dastard nobles, who 
 Have all forsook nie. hath dcvour'd the rest; 
 And sutler'd me by the voice of slaves to be 
 Wiioop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity 
 }iatti liroufcht me to thy hearlh : Not out of hope, 
 Mistake me not, to save my life ; for if 
 I had fcar'd death, ofall the men i' the world 
 I would have "voided thee : but in mere spite, 
 To be full guit of those my bamshers. 
 Stand I belbre thee here. Then if thou hast 
 A heart of wreak- in thee, that will revent^e 
 Thine own particular wrongs,and stop those maims 
 Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee 
 
 straight, 
 And make my misery serve thy turn ; so use it,. 
 Tliat my revengeful services may prove 
 As benehts to thee: for I will tinht 
 Ai^ainst my canker d country with the spleen 
 Ofall the under^ fiends. But if so be 
 Thou dar'st not this,and that to prove more fortunes 
 Thou art tir'd, then, ni a word, I also am 
 Longer to live most weary, and present 
 My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice: 
 \V^hich not to cut, would sJjriw (hre but a fool ; 
 Since I have ever follow'd thee witti tiute. 
 Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, 
 And cannot live but to thy shame, unless 
 It be to do thee service. 
 
 Auf. O Marcius, Marcius, 
 
 Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my 
 
 heart 
 A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter 
 Siioiild from yon cloud speak divine things,and say, 
 "fis true; I'd not believe them more than thee, 
 All noble Marcius. — O let me twine 
 ]\Iine arms about that body, where against 
 My grained ash an hundred times hath broke. 
 And scariid the moon with splinters I Here I clip^ 
 The anvil of my sword ; and do contest 
 As hotly and as nobly witli thy love, 
 As ever in ambitious strength I did 
 Contend against thy valor. Know thou first, 
 I love tlie maid I married; never man 
 Sigh'd truer breath ; but that I see thee here. 
 Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart, 
 Than when I first my wedded mistress saw 
 Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars ! I tell thee, 
 We have a power on foot ; and I liad purpose 
 
 1 Memorial. « Resentment. 
 
 » Infernal. * Embrace. 
 
 Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,^ 
 Or lose mine arm for t: Thou hast beat me out^ 
 Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
 Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me : 
 We have been down together in my sleep. 
 Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, 
 Andwak'd halfdead with nothing. WorthyMarcius, 
 Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that 
 Thou art lience hnnish'd, we would muster all 
 From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war 
 Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, 
 Like a bold fiood oVr-beat. O, come, go in, 
 And take our friendly senators by the hands; 
 Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, 
 Who am prepar'd against your territories, 
 Though not lor Rome itself. 
 
 Cn}\ Yon bless me, gods I 
 
 Auf. Therefore. most absolute sir.if thou wilt have 
 The leading of thine own revenges, take 
 The one half of my commission ; and set down,— 
 As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st 
 Thy cOtintry's strength and weakness, — thine own 
 
 ■ways : 
 Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, 
 Or rudely visit them ni parts remote, 
 To fright them, ere destroy. But come in : 
 Let me commend thee firs't to those, tliat shall 
 Say. yea, to thy desires. A thousand welcomes ! 
 And more a friend than e'er an enemy : 
 Vet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand ! Most 
 
 welcome \ 
 
 [Exeunt ConioLAxrs and ArriDirs. 
 
 1 Serv.[Adrnncinfi:.] Here's a strange alteration ! 
 
 2 Sen: By my hand, I had thought to have 
 strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind 
 gave me, his clothes made a false report of him. 
 
 1 Serv. What an arm he has! He turned me 
 about with his finger and his thumb, as one would 
 set up a lop. 
 
 2 Serv. Naj*, I knew by his face that there was 
 something ni him: He had, sir, a knid of face, me- 
 thought, — I cannot tell how to term it. 
 
 1 Serv. He had so: looking, as it were, — 'Would 
 I were hanged, bnt I thought there was more in 
 him than I could think. 
 
 2 Serv. So did I. I'll be sworn: He is simply the 
 rarest man i' the world. 
 
 1 Serv. I think he is: but a greater soldier ttian 
 he. you wot" one. 
 
 2 Serv. Whol my master! 
 
 1 Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that. 
 
 2 Serv. Worth six of him. 
 
 1 Serv. Nay. not so neither; but I take hhn to be 
 the greater soldier. 
 
 2 Serv. 'Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to 
 say that: for the defence of a town, our general is" 
 excellent. 
 
 1 Sen\ Ay, and for an assault too. 
 
 Re-enter third Servant. 
 
 3 Serv. 0, slaves, I can tell you news ; news, you 
 rascals. 
 
 1, 2 Serv. What, what, what? let's partake. 
 
 3 Ne/T. I would not be a Roman, of all nations 
 I liad as lieve be a condemned man, 
 
 1, 2 Serv. Wherefore ? wherefore ? 
 
 3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack 
 our general.— Caius Marcius. 
 
 1 Serv. Why do you say, thwack our general ? 
 
 3 Serv. I do not say, thwack our general; but he 
 was always good enough for him. 
 
 2 Serv. Come, we are fellows and friends: he 
 was ever too hard for hmi; I have heard him saj' 
 so himself. 
 
 1 Sen\ He was too hard for him directly, to say 
 the trulii on't : before Corioli, he scotched him and 
 notched him like a carbonado.* 
 
 2 Serv. An he had been cannibally given, he 
 might have broiled and eaten him too. 
 
 1 Sen". But, more of thy news? 
 
 3 Sen\ Why, he is so made on here within, as 
 if he were son and heir to Mars: set at upper end 
 o' the table : no question asked him by any of the 
 senators, but they stand bald before him : Our 
 general himself makes a mistress of him ; sanctifies 
 himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' the 
 eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news 
 is, our general is cut i' the middle, and but one half 
 
 6 Arm. • Full. i Kuow. 
 
 " Meat cut across to be broiled. 
 
564 
 
 COEIOLANUS. 
 
 Alt IV. 
 
 of what he was yesterday; for the other has half, by 
 the entreaty and grant of tlie whole table. He'll 
 go, he says, and sowle^ the porter of Rojiie gates by 
 the ears: He will mow down all before him, and 
 leave his passage polled.^ 
 
 2 Sej'v. And he's as like to do't, as any man I can 
 imagine. 
 
 3 Se7'i\ Do't? he will do't : For, look yon. sir, 
 he has as many friends as enemies : which friends, 
 sir. (as it were.) durst not ^look you, sir)show them- 
 selves (as we term it) his friends, wnilst he's in 
 directilude. 
 
 J Serv, Dircctitndc! what's that? 
 
 3 Serv. But when they sliall see, sir, his crest up 
 again, and the man in blond, they will out of their 
 burrows, like coneys after rain, and revel all with 
 him. 
 
 1 Serv. But when goes ♦his forward? 
 
 3 Sei'V. To-morrow ; to-day ; presently. You shall 
 have the drum struck up tliis afternoon : 'tis, as it 
 w'ere, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere 
 they wipe their lips. 
 
 2 Serv. Why then we shall have a stirring world 
 again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, in- 
 crease tailors, and breed ballad-makers. 
 
 1 Serv. Let me have war. say I ; it exceeds peace, 
 as far as day does night ; it's sprightly, waking, audi- 
 ble, and full of vent.- Peace is a very apoplexy, 
 letliargy ; mulled,^ deaf, sleepy, msensible; a getter 
 of more bastard children, tlian war's a destroyer of 
 men. 
 
 2 Sen\ 'Tis so: and as war. in some sort, may 
 be said to be a ravisher; so it cannot be denied, but 
 peace is a great maker of cuckolds. 
 
 ] Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. 
 
 3 Serv. Jleason ; because Ihey then less need one 
 another. The wars, fur my money. I hope to see 
 Romans as cheap as Volscians. "They are rising, 
 they are rising. 
 
 All. In, in, in, in. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— Rome. A public Place. 
 Inter Sicimus and Brctt'S. 
 
 Sic. Wehearnotof him, neither need w-e fear him: 
 His remedies are tame \ the present peace 
 And quietness o' the people, which before 
 Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends 
 Blush, that the world tioes well; who rather had. 
 Though Ihcy themselves did sillier by't, behold 
 Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see 
 Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going 
 About tlieir functions Iriendly. 
 
 Enter jMenknits. 
 
 Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this Me- 
 nenius! 
 
 Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he: 0, he is grown most kind 
 Of late.— Hail, sir! 
 
 Men. Hail to you both ! 
 
 Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much miss'd. 
 But with his friends: Ihecommonvveaith doth stand, 
 And so would do, were he more angry at it. 
 
 Men. All's well; and might have been much 
 betler, if 
 He could Jiave temporiz'd. 
 
 Sic. Where is he, hear yon ? 
 
 Men. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and ins wife 
 Hear nothing from him. 
 
 Enter three or four Citizens. 
 
 at. The gods preserve you both ! 
 
 Sic. Giiud e'en, our neighbors. 
 
 Bru. C.ood e'en to you all, good e'en to you all. 
 
 1 at. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our 
 knees, 
 Are bound to pray for you both. 
 
 Sic» .Live and thrive! 
 
 Brxi. Farewell, kind neighbors: we wish'd Co- 
 riolanus 
 Had lov'd y'ou as wc did. 
 
 at. Kow the gods keep you. 
 
 BtAfi Tri. Farewell, farewell. [Kcciin/ Citizens. 
 
 Sic. 1'liis is a happier ami more eotufly time. 
 Than when these (ellows ran about the streets, 
 Crying, confusion. 
 
 Jiru. Cains Marcius was 
 
 Axworthy ofTicer i' the war; but insolent, 
 oVrcome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, 
 Self-loving, 
 
 > Tull. I Cut clear. a Kumor. « Softenud. 
 
 Sic. And alTecting ono sole throne, 
 
 Without assistance.-* 
 
 Men. I think not so. 
 
 .Sic. We should by thia. tc all our lamentation, 
 If he had gone forth consul, found it so. 
 
 Bru. The godshav? -/veU prevented it, and Rome 
 Sits safe and still without him. 
 
 Entey jEdile. 
 
 ^^d. Worthy tribunes, 
 
 There is a slave, whum we have put in prison, 
 Reports, — the Volets with two several powers 
 Are enter'd in the Roman territories; 
 And with the deeijest malice of the war 
 Destroy what lies before them. 
 
 Men. 'Tis Aufidius. 
 
 Who, hearing oJ" our Marcius' banishment, 
 Thrust.s forth hiv horns attain into the world 
 Which were ijishell'd, when IVlarcius str>od for 
 
 Rome, 
 And durst no( once peep out. 
 
 Sic. Come, what t9")» you 
 
 Of iMarcius'' 
 
 Bru. Go s^n this rumorer whipp'U. — It cannot 
 be 
 The Voices dare break with us. 
 
 Men. Can;<ot \^ ! 
 
 We have record, that very well it cy.t ; 
 And three t\ainp)es of the like have been 
 Within my age. But reason wi'h the lellow, 
 Belbre you punish him, where br heard this: 
 Lest you should chance to whip your inJbrmation, 
 And beat the messenger wh& tids beware 
 Of what is to be dreaded. 
 
 Sic. 1 ell not me : 
 
 I know this cannot be. 
 
 Bru. N jt possible. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. The nobles, in g^t-st earnestness, are going 
 Ail to the senate-hou( t' : s-^me news is come, 
 That turns their coun'eniinccs. 
 
 Sic. 'Tis this slave; — 
 
 Go whip him 'fore *'m people's eyes: — his raising ! 
 Nothing but his repjit .' 
 
 Mess. Yes, worthy sir, 
 
 The slave's report in seconded; and more, 
 More learful is d£l'?jred. 
 
 Sic. What more fearful? 
 
 Mess. It is spuki freely out of many mouths, 
 (How probable, [ -Jo not know.) that Marcius", 
 Join'd with Au'k'ius, leads a power 'gainst Rome; 
 And vows revii,i^,e as spacious, as between 
 The young'st Mid oldest thing. 
 
 Sic. This is most likely I 
 
 Bru. Rais'd cnly, that the weaker sort may wish 
 Good Marciur> iiome again. 
 
 Sic. The very trick on't. 
 
 Men. ThiKU unlikely: 
 He and AuliJius can no more atone,5 
 Tlian violei\tJst contrariety. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 iV/e-s.f. Yon are sent for to the senate: 
 A tearful army, led by Caius Marcius, 
 Associated with Autidius. rages 
 Upon our territories; and have already 
 o'erborne their way, consum'd with hre, and tooh 
 What lay ttetbrc them. 
 
 Eyiier Cominifs. 
 
 Com. 0, you have made good work ! 
 
 Men. What news ! what news? 
 
 Cum. You have holp to ravish your own daugh- 
 ters, and 
 To melt the city leads upon your pates ; 
 To see your wives dishonor'd to your noses; — 
 
 7l///i. What's the news] what's the news? 
 
 Ctn/i. Your temples burn'd in their cement ; and 
 Your francbises, whereon you stood, contin'd 
 Into an auger's bore. 
 
 Men. Pray now, your news? — 
 
 YoQ have made fair work, 1 fear nie : — Pray, yoi» 
 
 news ] 
 If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians, 
 
 Com. If! 
 
 He is their god : he leads them like a thing 
 Aladi* b\ sniue other deity than nature, 
 'lliiit sluiiH's man belter; and they tollnw him, 
 Against us brats, with no less contidence, 
 
 * Suffrage. 
 
 fc Uuite. 
 
Scene 711. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 565 
 
 Than boys rursiiiTig summer butterflies, 
 Or butchers killing (lies. 
 
 Men. You iiave made pood work. 
 
 You, and your apron men ; you that stood so much 
 Upon the voice ot' occupation,^ and 
 The breath ol' garlic-eaters ! 
 
 Com. He will shake 
 
 Your Rome about your ears. 
 
 ]\ten. As Hercules 
 
 Did shake down mellow fruit : You have made fair 
 work I 
 
 Bru. But is this true, sir ] 
 
 Com. Ay; and you'll look pale 
 
 Belorc you find it other. All the regions 
 Do smilingly revolt; and, Avho resist. 
 Are ouly mock'd lor valiant ignorance, 
 And perish constant lijols. Who is't can blame 
 
 himi 
 Your enemies, and his, find something in him. 
 
 Men. VVe are all undone, unless 
 Tlie nobleman have mercy. 
 
 Com, Who shall ask it '! 
 
 The tribunes cannot do't for shame : the people 
 Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf 
 Does of the siiepherds; for his best friends, if they 
 Should sa.y, JBeffonil fu Rome, they charged him even 
 As those shoulil do that had deserv'd his hate, 
 And therein siiow'd like enemies. 
 
 Men. 'Tis true : 
 
 If he were putting to my house the brand 
 That should consume it, I have not Ibe face 
 To say, ^Beseech you cease. — You have made fair 
 
 hands, 
 Y'ou and jour crafts ! you have crafled-fair ! 
 
 Com. You have brought 
 
 A trembling upon Rome, such as was never 
 So incapable of help. 
 
 Tri. Say not. we brought it. 
 
 Men. How! Was it wel We lov'd him; but, 
 like beasts. 
 And cowardly nobles, gave way to j'our clusters 
 Who did hoot him out o' the city. 
 
 Com. But. I fear. 
 
 They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aulidius 
 The second name of men, obeys his points 
 As if he were his ofticer: — Desperation 
 Is all the policy, strength, and deleiice, 
 That E,ome can make against them. 
 
 Enter a Troop of Citizens. 
 
 Men. Here come the clusters. — 
 
 And is Aufidius with hini '! — You are they 
 That made the air unwbolosome, when you cast 
 Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at 
 Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; 
 And not a hair upon a soldier's head. 
 Which will not [irove a whip; as many coxcombs, 
 As you threw caps up, will he tumbledown. 
 And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; 
 If he couid burn "us all into one coal, 
 We have deserv'd it. 
 
 at. 'Faith, we hear fearful news. 
 
 1 at. Tor mine own part. 
 When I said, banish him, I said, 'twas pity. 
 
 2 at. And so did I. 
 
 3 ('.it. And so did I; and, to say the truth, so 
 did very many of us: That we did,' we did liir the 
 best: and though we willingly consented to his 
 bauisliment, yet it was against bur will. 
 
 Com. You are goodly things, you voices ! 
 
 Men. You have made 
 
 Good work, ^'ou and \'Our cry !'— Shall us to the 
 Capitol ? 
 
 Com. 0, ay ; what else 1 [Exeunt Com. and Men. 
 
 &'tc. Go. masters, get you home, be not dismay'd ; 
 These are a side, that would be glad to have 
 This true, whicli they so seem to fear. Go home, 
 And show no sign of fear. 
 
 1 at. The gods be good to us ! Come, masters, 
 
 8 Jlcchanii'fi. i Pack ; alluJing to a pack of hounds. 
 
 let's home. I ever said, we were i' the wrong, 
 when we banished hi in. 
 
 2 at. So did we all. But come, let's home. 
 
 {Exeunt Citizens. 
 
 Bru. I do not like this news, 
 
 Sic. Nor I. 
 
 Bru. Let's to the Capitol :— 'Would half my 
 wealth 
 Would buy this for a lie. 
 
 Sic. Pray, let us go. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE YII.— .-I Camp; at a small distance 
 
 from Rome. 
 
 Enter ArFiniis, and Ms Lieutenant. 
 
 Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman ? 
 
 Lieu. I do liot know what witchcrall's in him ; 
 . but 
 Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, 
 Their talk at talile, and their thanks at end; 
 And you are darken'd in tills action, sir, 
 Even by your own. 
 
 Auf. I cannot help it now; 
 
 Unless, by using means, I lame the foot 
 Of our design. He hears himself more proudlier, 
 Even to my person, than I thought he would. 
 When first I did embrace him : Yet his nature 
 In that's no changeling; and I must excuse 
 What cannot be amended. 
 
 Lieu. Yet I wish, sir, 
 
 (I mean for your particular,) you ha<l not 
 .loin'd in commission with him; but either 
 Hail borne the action of yourself, or else 
 To him had left it solely. 
 
 AiiJ. I understand thee well; and be thou sure. 
 When he shall come to his account, he knows not 
 What 1 can urge against him. Although it seems, 
 .\nd so he thinks, and is no less ajiparent 
 To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. 
 And shows good husbandry liir the VoLscian state; 
 Fights dragon-hke, and does achieve as soon 
 As draw his sword : yet he hath left undone 
 That which shall break his neck, or hazard mine, 
 Wliene'er we come to our account. 
 
 Lieu. Sir. I beseech you, think you he'll carry 
 Rome ] 
 
 Juf. All places yield to him ere he sits down; 
 And the nobility of Rome are his: 
 The .senators, aiid patricians, love him too. 
 The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people 
 Will be as rash in the reivai, as hasty 
 To expel him thence. I think, he'll be to Rome, 
 Asi.s the osprey* to the tish, who takes it 
 By sovereignty of nature. First he was 
 A noble servant to them; but he could not 
 Carry his honors even: whether 'twas pride, 
 Which out of daily liirtune ever taints 
 The happy man ; whether defect of judgment, 
 To fail in the disposing of those chances 
 Which he was Imd of; or whether nature. 
 Not to be other than one thing, not moving 
 From the casque' to the cushion,' but commanding 
 
 peace 
 Even with tiie same austerity and garb 
 .\s he controli'd the war; but, one ot these, 
 (As he hath spices of them all, not all,-' 
 For 1 dare so tiirfree him,) made him fe.ar'd. 
 So haled, and so hanisli'd : But he has a merit, 
 To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues 
 Lie in the interpreUitum of the time; 
 Auil ]iower, unto itself most commeiulable, 
 llalli not a tomb so evulent as a chair 
 To extol what it hath done. 
 One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; 
 Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do 
 
 fail. 
 Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is tliine, 
 Tiiou art poor'st of all ; then shortly art thou mine. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 e An eagle that preys on fish. • Ili^lmet. 
 
 1 The chair of civil authority, 
 a Not all in thcu' full exten't. 
 
566 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Rome. A Public Place. 
 
 Enter Menexics, Comisius, Sicisics, Brutus, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Men. No, I'll not go : you hear, what he hath 
 said, 
 AVhich was sometime his general; who lov'd him 
 In a most clear pariicular. He calTd me lather: 
 But what of that ! Go, you that banish'd him, 
 A mile before his tent lall down, and knrel 
 The way unto his mercy : Nay, if he eoy'd^ 
 To hear Cominius spcaK, I'll krep at home. 
 
 Com. Me would not seera to know me. 
 
 Men. Do you hear? 
 
 Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name: 
 I ur^ed our old aequaintance, and the drops 
 That we have bled togetlier. Coriohinus 
 lie would not answer to: forbade all names; 
 He was a kind of nothing, titleless, 
 Till he had forged himself a name i* the fire 
 Of burniMg Rome. 
 
 Men. Wliy, so: you have made good work: 
 A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, 
 To make coals cheap :' A noble memory ! 
 
 Co/n. I minded him how royal 'twas To pardon 
 When it was less expected : He replied, 
 it was a hare petition of a slate 
 To one whom they had puni^li'd. 
 
 Mtn. Very well: 
 
 Could he say less 1 
 
 Com. I orter'd to awaken Iiis regard 
 For his private friends : His answer to me was 
 He could not stay to pick them in a pile 
 ( tf noisome, musty clialf : He said, 'twas folly, 
 For one poor gram or two, to leave unburnt, 
 And still to nose the ollence. 
 
 Men. For one poor grain 
 
 Or two 1 I am one of these ; his mother, wife, 
 His child, and tJiis brave lellow too, we are the 
 
 grains: 
 Vou are the musty chafT; and you are smelt 
 Above the moon: We juust he burnt for you. 
 
 .Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: If you refuse your aid 
 In this HO never-needed help, yet do not 
 Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you 
 Would be your country's pleader.yourgood tongue 
 More than the instant army we can make, 
 JMiiiht stop our countryman. 
 
 Men. No: I'll not meddle. 
 
 Sic. I praj' you, go to him. 
 
 Men. What should I do? 
 
 Brti. Only make trial what your love can do 
 For Rome towards ^lareius. 
 
 Me7i. Well, and say that Marcius 
 
 Return me, as Cominius is returned, 
 Unheard ; what then ? 
 But as a discontented friend, grief-shot 
 With his unkindness? Say't be so ! 
 
 ■Sic. Yet your good will 
 
 Must have that thanks from Rome,alter the measure 
 As you intended well. 
 
 Men. I'll undertake it: 
 
 I think, lie^ll hear me. Yet to bite his lip, 
 And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. 
 \h- was not taken well; he had not dined: 
 The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then 
 AVe pout upon the morning, are unapt 
 ']'o give or to forgive; but when we have stufT'd 
 These pipes and these conveyances of our blood 
 With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls 
 Tlian in our priest-like lasts; therefore I'll watch him 
 Till 111' be dieled to my request, 
 And then I'll set U])»n him. 
 
 Bru. Vou know tho very road into his kindness. 
 And cannot lose your way. 
 
 Men. Cood faith. I'll prove him. 
 
 Speed howitwill. I shall erelong haveknovv|edy;e 
 OI" my success. _ [Exit. 
 
 Com, He'll never hear him. 
 
 i^ic. Not? 
 
 3 Con doRcon fled iinwllliiif^ly. 
 
 * 1. c. ll.ive innnn-ri'd so well fnr Rome as to got the town 
 burnt to save tho expouso of coals. 
 
 Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye 
 Red as 'twould burn Rome: and his injury 
 The gaoler to his pity. 1 kneel'd belbrc him; 
 'Twas very family he said, Rise ; dismiss'd me 
 Thus, with his speechless hand: What he would do, 
 He sent in writing after me ; what he would not, 
 Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions: 
 So, that all hope is vain. 
 Unless his noble mother, and his wife ; 
 Who, as 1 hear, mean to solicit him 
 Fur mercy to his country. Tiierefore let's hence, 
 And with our lair entreaties haste them on. [Ex* 
 
 SCENE \\.—An advanced Post of' the Volscian 
 Camj) before Rome, Tke Guard at their Siulimis. 
 Enter to them Menenics. 
 
 1 G. Stay: Whence are you ? 
 
 2 G. Stand, and go back. 
 Men. You guard like men; 'tis well: But, by 
 
 }'our leave, 
 I am an olhcer of slate, and come 
 To speak with Coriolanus. 
 
 1 G. From whence? 
 
 Men. From Rome. 
 
 1 G. You may not pass, you must return; our 
 
 general 
 Will no more hear from thence. 
 
 2 G. You'll see your Rome embraced with fire, 
 
 before 
 You'll speak with Coriolanus. 
 
 Men. Good my friends, 
 
 If you have heard your general talk of Rome, 
 Aiid of his friends there, it is lots^ to blanks. 
 My name hath touch'd your cars: It is Menenius. 
 
 1 G. Be it so ; go back : the virtue of your name 
 Is not here passable. 
 
 Men. I tell thee, fellow. 
 
 Thy general is my lover r"^ I have been 
 The book of his good acts,whence men have read 
 His fame unparallel'd, haply, amplilied; 
 For I have ever verilied my friends, 
 f Of whom he's chief,) with all the size that verity 
 Would without lapsing suller: nay, sometimes. 
 Like to a bowl upon a subtle" ground, 
 I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise 
 Have almost stamp'd the leasing.^ Therefore, 
 
 ll'llow, 
 I must have leave to pass. 
 
 1 G. 'Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in 
 his behalf, as you have uttered words in your own, 
 you should not pass here: no, though it were as 
 virtuous to he, as to live chastely. Tiierefore, go 
 back. 
 
 Men. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is 
 IMenenius, always lactionary on the party of your 
 general. 
 
 2 G. Howsoever you have been his liar, (as you 
 say you have,) I am one that, teUing true under 
 hiJn, must say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go 
 back. 
 
 Men. Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would 
 not speak with him till at^er dinner. 
 1 G. You are a Roman, are you ? 
 Men. I am as thy general is. 
 
 1 G. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. 
 Can you, when you liave pushed out your gates 
 the very defender of them, and, in a violent popular 
 ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to 
 front his revenges with the easy groans of old 
 women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or 
 with the palsied intercession of such a decayed 
 dotant'J as you seem to be ? Can yon think to blow 
 out the intended tire your city is ready to tiamein, 
 wilh such weak breath as this] No. you arc de- 
 ceived , therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for 
 your execution; you are condemned, our general 
 has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon. 
 
 Men. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, 
 he would use me with estimation. 
 
 2 G. Come, my captain knows you not. 
 
 > Prizes. 
 « Lie. 
 
 6 Friend. 
 B Dotard. 
 
 ' Deceitful. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 COmOLANUS. 
 
 507 
 
 Men, I mean thy general. 
 
 1 G. My general cares not for you. Back. I say ; 
 go, lest I let Jbrth your half pint of blood : — back,— 
 itiat's the utmost of your havin;^: — back. 
 
 Mcn» Nay, bat fellow, fellow, 
 
 Ettter CoRioiiANUS and Aupidius. 
 
 Or. What's the matter? 
 
 M(n. Now, you companion,' 1*11 say an errand 
 for vuu ; >ou shall know now that I am in esti- 
 inatiO'.i; you shall perceive that a Jack^guardant 
 cantiOt olJJce me from my son Coriolanus; guess, 
 but by my entertainment with him, if thou stand's! 
 nut i' the btate of hanging, or of some death more 
 loii;^ in spectatorship and crueller in sulTering; 
 behold now presently, and swoon for what's to 
 coniB upon thee. The glorious gods sit in Jiourly 
 synod about thy particular jirosperity, and love 
 tlicc no worse than thy old father IMenenius does! 
 O. my son ! my son ! thou art preparing tire for us; 
 look thee, here's water to quench it. 1 was hardly 
 moved to come to tJice ; but being assured, none 
 but myself could move thee, I have been blown 
 out ot your gates with sighs; and conjure thee to 
 pardon Rome, and thy petitionary countrymen. 
 The good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the 
 dregs of it upon the varlet here; this, who, like a 
 block, halh denied my access to Uice. 
 
 Orr. Away ! 
 
 Men* How! away? 
 
 Cor. Wife, motlier, child. I know not. My affairs 
 Are servanted to others: Though I owe 
 My revenge properly, my remission lies 
 In VoJscian breasts. That we have been familiar, 
 Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, ratlier 
 Tlian pity note how much. — Therefore, begone. 
 Mine ears against your suits are stronger, than 
 Your gales against my force. Yet, for^ 1 lov'd thee, 
 Take this along ; I writ it for thy sake, 
 
 [Gives a Letter. 
 And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, 
 I will not hear thee speak. — This man, Aulidius, 
 Was my beloved in Rome : yet thou behold'st 
 
 Avf. you keep a constant temper. 
 
 [Exeunt Coriol. and Aufid. 
 
 1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius ] 
 
 2 G. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: You 
 know the way home again. 
 
 1 G. Do you hear how we are shent' for keeping 
 your gre:ituess backl 
 
 2 G. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon ] 
 J\/t7^ I neither care for the world, nor your 
 
 general : for such things as you, I can scarce tliink 
 there is any, you are so slight. He tliat iialh a will 
 to die by himself, fears it not from another. Let 
 your general do his worst. For you, be that you 
 are, long; and your misery increase with your age ! 
 I say to you, as I was said to. Away ! [Exit. 
 
 1 G. A noble fellow, I warrant him. 
 
 2 G. The worthy fellow is our general: He is the 
 rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— TAe Tent o/ Coriolanus. 
 Enter Coriolanus, Aufidu's, and others. 
 
 Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow 
 Set dovi-n our host. — My partner in this action, 
 You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly^ 
 I have borne iji this business. 
 
 Axif. Only their ends 
 
 You have respected; stopp'd your ears against 
 The general suit of Rome; never admitted 
 A private whisper, no, not with such friends 
 That thought them sure of you. 
 
 Cor. This last old man, 
 
 Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, 
 Loved me above the measure of a father; 
 Niiy. godded me. indeed. Their latest refuge 
 Was to send him : for whose old love, I have 
 (Though I show'd sourly to him) once more 
 
 o tie red 
 The first conditions, which they did refuse, 
 And cannot now accept, to grace him only. 
 That thoutiht he could do more; a very little 
 1 linvc \ K-bli'd too: Fresh embassies, and suits, 
 Nor froiij the slate, nor private friends, hereafter 
 Will I lend ear to. — Ha! what shout is this? 
 
 [Slwut within. 
 
 ' Pellow. 4 J.ick In office. ■ Because. 
 
 • Repiimanded, » Openly. 
 
 Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow 
 
 In tlie same time 'tis madel I will not. — 
 
 Enter in mourning Jlubits, Virgilia, VoLirMNiA, 
 
 leading young Maucils, Valeria, and Attend- 
 ants. 
 My wife comes foremost; then the honar'd mould 
 Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand 
 The grandchild to her blood. But. out. allection. 
 All l>ond and privilege of nature, break! 
 Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate. — 
 What IS that curtesy worth? or those doves' eye^. 
 Which can make gods forsworn? — I melt, and am 
 
 not 
 Of stronger earth than others. — My mother bows; 
 As if Olympus to a molehill should 
 In supplication nod: and my young boy 
 Hath an aspect of intercession, which 
 Great nature cries, DcJiy not. — Let the Voices 
 IJIough Rome, and liarrow Italy; I'll ncvt: 
 lie such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand, 
 As if a man were author of himself, 
 And knew no other kiji. 
 
 Vlr. My lord and husband ! 
 
 Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore in 
 Rome. 
 
 Vir. The sorrow that delivers us thus changed, 
 Makes you think so. 
 
 Cor. Like a dull actor now, 
 
 I have forgot my part, and I am out, 
 Even to a full disgrace. Rest of my flesh, 
 Forgive my tyranny ; hut do not say. 
 For that, lorgive our Romans. 0, a kiss 
 Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! 
 Now by the jealous queen^ of heaven, that kiss 
 I carried Irom thee, dear; and my true lip 
 J lath virginM it e'er since. You gods! I prate, 
 And the most noble mother of the world 
 Leave unsaluted; Sink, my knee i' the earth ; 
 
 [Kneels. 
 Of thy deep duty more impression show 
 Than" that of common sons. 
 
 V(d. O, stand up bless'd! 
 
 Whilst with no softer cushion than tiie flint, 
 I kneel before thee; and unproperly 
 Show duty, as mistaken all the while 
 Between tiic child and parent. [^Kneels. 
 
 Cor. What is this I 
 
 Your knees to me? to your corrected son ? 
 Then let the pcbldes on the hungry beacli 
 Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds 
 Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the liery sun; 
 MurdVing impossibility, to make 
 What cannot oc, slight" work. 
 
 Vol. Tliou art my warrior; 
 
 I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady! 
 
 Cor. The noble sister of Publlcola, 
 The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle. 
 That's curded by the frost from purest snow, 
 And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria! 
 
 Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours, 
 Which by the interpretation of full time 
 May show Uke all yourself. 
 
 Cor. The god of soldiers, 
 
 With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
 Thy thoughts with nobleness; that ihou may'st 
 
 prove 
 To shame invulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
 Like a great sea-mark, sUinding every flaw,"' 
 And saving those that eye thee! 
 
 Vol. Y''our knee, sirrah, 
 
 Ctir. That's my brave boy. 
 
 Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself. 
 Are suitors to you. 
 
 Cor. I beseech you, peace : 
 
 Or, if you'd ask, remember this before; 
 The things, 1 have forsworn to grant, may never 
 Be held by you denials. Do not bid me 
 Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate 
 Again with Rome's mechanics: — Tell. me not 
 Wherein I seem unnatural: Desire not 
 To allay my rages and revenges, with 
 Your colder reasons. 
 
 Vol. 0, no more, no more ! 
 
 You have said, you will not grant us any thing; 
 For we have nothing else to ask. but tliat 
 Which you deny already: Yet we will ask; 
 That, if you faifin our refjuest, the blame 
 May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us, 
 • Juno. ' ' Gust, storm. 
 
568 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Cor. Aufidius, and you Voices, mark; for we'll 
 Ht'arnoii^'htlVoin Romein private. — Vourrequcstl 
 
 Vul. Should \vc be silent and not speak, our 
 raiment. 
 And state ol' bodies would bewray^ what life 
 We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself, 
 How more unfortunate than all living women 
 Are we come hitlier: since that thy sight, which 
 
 should 
 Make our eyes flow wi'h joy, hearts dance with 
 
 comibrts, 
 Constrams them weep, and shake with fear and 
 
 sorrow ; 
 Making the mother, wife, and child, to see 
 T!ie son, the husband, and the father, tearing 
 His country's bowels out. And to poor we, 
 Tiiinc enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us 
 Our prayers to the ^ods, which is a comfort 
 That all but we enjoy: For how can we, 
 Alas! how can we for our country pray. 
 Whereto we are bound; together with thy victory, 
 AVliereto we are bound'; Alack! or we must lose 
 The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person, 
 Our comfort in the country. We must lind 
 An evident calamity, though we had 
 Our wish, which side should win: for either thou 
 Must, as a foreign recreant, be led 
 AVith manacles through our streets, or else 
 Triumphantly tread upon thy country's ruin; 
 And bear the palm, for having bravely shed 
 Tliy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, 
 1 purpose not to wait on fortune, till 
 Tlicse wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee 
 Rather to sliow a noble grace to botli parts. 
 Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner 
 March to assault thy country, than to tread 
 (Trust toH thou shalt not) on tliy mother's womb, 
 That brought thee to this world. 
 
 Vir. Ay, and on mine, 
 
 That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name 
 Living to tune. 
 
 Botj. He shall not tread on me; 
 
 I'll riin away, till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. 
 
 Cur. IS'ot of a woman's tenderness to be, 
 Re<iuires nor child nor woman's face to see. 
 1 have sat too long. \Iiising. 
 
 Vol. Nay, go not from us thus. 
 
 If it were so. that our request did tend 
 To save the Romans, thereby to destroy 
 The Voices whom you serve, you might condemn us, 
 As ])oisonous of your honor: No; our suit 
 Is, that you reconcile them: while the Voices, 
 J\lAy s3.y. This mercy ive h/ive show' fi; the Romans, 
 This ive rccckPd; and each in eillicr side 
 Give the all-hail to thee, and cry. Be btess'd 
 For makin^upihis peace! Thou know'st,greatson, 
 The end of war's uncertain; but this certain. 
 That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit 
 W^hicJi thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name. 
 Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; 
 V/Iiose chronicle llius writ, — The man was noble, 
 But wifh hvs lui't aiteatpt, he wipcfl it out ; 
 Destroi/it. his country; and hia name rentabis 
 To the ensuing age, abhorred. Speak to me, son: 
 Thou hast affected the fine strains of honor, 
 To imitate the graces of the gods; 
 To tear with tliuudor tlic wide cheeks o' the air, 
 And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt 
 Tliat'should but rive an oak. Wiiy dost not speak 1 
 TJiink'st thou it honorable for a noble man 
 Still to remember wrongs! — Daughter, sjieak yon: 
 He cares not for your weeping. — Speak thou, boy: 
 Perhaps thy childishness will move him more 
 Than can our reasons. — There is no man in the 
 
 world 
 Morobound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate 
 Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy liJe 
 Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy; 
 When she', (poor hen!) Ibna of no second brood. 
 Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home, 
 Loaden with honor. Say, my request's unjust, 
 And spurn nic back: But, if it be not so. 
 Thotiart not honest ; and thegods will plague thee. 
 That thou restraiii'st from mo the duty, which 
 To a mother's part heloni;s. — He turns away: 
 Down, lacfies; let vis shame him with our kiiees. 
 To his surname Coriolanus 'lontcs more pride. 
 Than pity to our prayers. Down ; an cjid : 
 This is the last; — So 'we will iiome to Rome 
 » BL'ti-uy. 
 
 And die among our neighbors. — Nay, behold us: 
 This boy, that cannot tell what he would have. 
 But kneels, and holds up hands, lor fellowship, 
 Does reason our petition with more strength 
 Than tliou hast to deny't.— Come, let us go : 
 TJiis fellow had a Volscian to his mother; 
 His wife is in CorioU, and his child 
 Like him by chance: — Yet give us our despatch: 
 I am hush'd until our city be afire. 
 And then Til speak a little. 
 
 Cor, mother, mother 
 
 [Holding VoLT'MNiA by the hands, sil^A<t. 
 What have you done ? Rehold, the heavens do ope. 
 The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 
 They laugh at. my mother, mother ! ! 
 You have won a happy victory to Rome: 
 IJut, tor your son, — believe it, O, believe it, 
 Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, 
 H'not most mortal "to him. But, let it come: 
 Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, 
 I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, 
 Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard 
 A mother less! or granted less, Auiidius? 
 
 Auf. I was mov'd withai. 
 
 Cor. I dare be sworn, you were; 
 
 And, sir, it is no little thing, to make 
 Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir. 
 What peace you'll make, advise me: For my part, 
 I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you ; and prav you. 
 Stand to me in this cause. — O mother ! wife I 
 
 Auf. I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy 
 honor 
 At difference in thee : out of that I'll work 
 Myself a former fortune. [Aside 
 
 [The Ladies make signs to Coriolancs. 
 
 Cor. Ay, by-and-by ; 
 
 {To VOLUMXIA, VlRGIUA, ^C. 
 
 But we will drink together; and you shall bear 
 
 A better witness back than words, which we, 
 
 On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. 
 
 Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve 
 
 To have a temple built you; ail the swords 
 
 In Italy, and her confederate arms, 
 
 Could not have made this peace. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. Rome. A public V lace. 
 Enter Menenius and SiciNU's. 
 
 Men. See you yond' coign- o' the Capitol: yond' 
 comer stone ! 
 
 kS7c. Why, what of that? 
 
 Men. If It be possible for you to displace it with 
 your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of 
 Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. 
 But I say, there is no hope in't; our tliroats are 
 sentenced, and stay upon execution. 
 
 i>ic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter 
 the condition of a man ] 
 
 Men, There is a dillerency between a grub, and a 
 butterfiy; yet your butterfly was a grub. This 
 Marcius is grown from man to dragon: lie has 
 wings; he's more than a creeping thing. 
 
 i:iic. He loved liis mother dearl.y. 
 
 Men. So did he me: and he no more remembers 
 his motlier now. than an eight year old horse. The 
 tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he 
 walks, he moves liJ;e an engine, and the ground 
 shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a 
 corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum 
 is a balterj". He sits in his state,' as a thing made 
 for^ Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished 
 with his biddijig. He wants nothing of a god but 
 eternity, and a heaven to throne in. 
 
 iSic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. 
 
 Men. I paint him in the character. >Tark what 
 mercy his mother shall bring from him: There is no 
 more* mercy in him, than there is milk in a male 
 tiger; that shall our poor city find: and all this is 
 'long of vou. 
 
 Sic. Tlie gods be good unto us ! 
 
 Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be 
 good unto us. When we banished him, we le- 
 spected not them : and, he returning to break our 
 necks, tliey respect not us. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your 
 house; 
 The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune. 
 And naie him up and do'wn; all swearing, if 
 • Angle. * Ch.iir i^f state. ^ To resemble. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 COKIOLANUS. 
 
 569 
 
 The Roman ladies brini not conilbrt liome, 
 They'll give him deatli by inclies. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 Sic. What's the news? 
 
 Mess. Good news, good news; — The ladies have 
 prevailed, 
 The Voices are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone: 
 A merrier day did never yet sreet Rome, 
 No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. 
 
 Sic. Friend, 
 
 Art thou certain this is true 1 is it most certain ! 
 
 Mess. As certain as I know the sun is tire ; 
 Where have you lurk'd, that you nia];e doubt of it? 
 NeVr throup:li an arcii so liurricd the blown tide. 
 As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark 
 you; 
 
 [Trumpets and Jiauthoys snunded. and Drums 
 beaten, all togetlier. Shouting also within. 
 The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and tifes. 
 Tabors, and cymbals, and the sliouting Romans, 
 Make the sun dance. Hark you ! [ Shouting again. 
 
 Men. Tiiis is good news : 
 
 I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia 
 Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, 
 A city full ; of tribunes, sucii as you, 
 A sea and land full : You liave prayed well to-day; 
 This morning, for ten thousand of your throats 
 I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy ! • 
 [Shouting and. Atusic. 
 
 Sic. First, the gods bless you for their tidings ; 
 next. 
 Accept my thankfulness. 
 
 Mess. Sir, we liave all 
 
 Great cause to give great thanks. 
 
 Sic. ' They are near the city 1 
 
 Mess. Almost at point to enter. 
 
 Sic. We will meet them. 
 
 And help the joy. [Going. 
 
 Enter the Ladies, accompanied b;/ Senators. Patri- 
 cians, and People. They pass over the Stage. 
 
 I Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome: 
 Call all your tribes together, praise the gods. 
 And make triumphant fires; strew llowers before 
 
 tlicm : 
 Unshout the noise tliat banish'd Marcius, 
 Repeal^ him with tlie welcome of his mother; 
 Cr}', — Welcome, ladies, welcome ! 
 
 Alt. Welcome, ladies! 
 
 Welcome ! [A flourish with Drums and Trumpets. 
 
 [Kxeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. Antium. A public Place. 
 Enter TrLLius Attfidios, with Attendants. 
 Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here: 
 Deliver them this paper: having read it. 
 Hid them repair to the market-place ; where I, 
 Even in theirs and in the commons' ears. 
 Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse. 
 The city ports' by this hath enter'd, and 
 Intends to appear before the ^lenple, honing 
 To purge himself with words: Despatch. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants. 
 Enter three or four Conspirators of AuHduis' 
 Factiun. 
 Most welcome ! 
 
 1 Cm. How is it with our general ? 
 
 A of. Even so, 
 
 As witli a man by his own alms empoison'd. 
 And with his charity slain. 
 
 2 Con. Most noble sir. 
 If you do hold the same intent wherein 
 You wisii'd us parties, we'll deliver you 
 
 Of your great danger. 
 
 Auf. Sir. I cannot tell ; 
 
 We must proceed, as we do find the people. 
 
 3 Con. The people will remain uncert;iin. whilst 
 'Twixt you there's differenec : but the fall of either 
 Makes the survivor heir of all. 
 
 Auf. I know it; 
 
 And my pretext to strike at him admits 
 A good construction. I rais'd iiim, and I pami'd 
 Mine honor forhis truth : Wlio being so heighten'd 
 He water'd his new plants .with dews of llattery, 
 Seducins so my friends : and to this end, 
 He bow'd his nature, never kTiown before 
 Rut to be rough, unswayable, and free. 
 
 3 Con. Sir, his stoulness, 
 ' Recall. < Gates. 
 
 When he did stand for consul, which he lost 
 IJy lack of stooping. - 
 
 Auf. Tliat I would have spoke of: 
 Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth ; 
 Presented to my knife his throat: I took him ; 
 Made him joint servant with me ; gave him way 
 In all his own desires ; nay, let him choose 
 Out of my tiles, his projects to accomplish. 
 My best and freshest men; serv'd his designmenta 
 In mine own person ; holp to reap the fame. 
 Which he did end all his ; and took some pride 
 To do myself this wrong : till, at tlie last, 
 I seemed liis tbllower, not partner; and 
 He waged me with his countenance,^ as if 
 I had been mercenary. 
 
 1 Con. So he did, my lord : 
 The army mari'eU'd at it. And, in the last. 
 When he" had carried Rome; and that we look'd 
 For no less spoil than glory, 
 
 Auf. There was it; — 
 
 For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. 
 At a few drops of women's rheum.6 which are 
 As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labor 
 Of our great action; Therefore shall he die. 
 And I'll renew me in his fall. But. hark! 
 
 [Drums and Trumpets .sound, tvilh great 
 shou/s if t/i£ People. 
 
 1 Con. Your nativetown you enter'd like a post, 
 And had no wolcomes home; but he returns, 
 Splitting the air with noise.. 
 
 2 Con. And patient fools. 
 Whose chddren he hath slain, their base throats tear, 
 With giving him glory. 
 
 3 Con. Therefore, at your 'vantage, 
 Ere he express himself, or move the people 
 With what he would say. let him feel your sword, 
 Which we will second. When he lies along. 
 After your way his talc pronounc'd shall bury 
 His reasons with his body. 
 
 A uf. Say no more ; 
 
 Here come the lords. 
 
 Enter the Lords of the City. 
 
 Lords. You are most welcome home. 
 
 Auf. I have not deserv'd it : 
 
 But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd 
 What 1 have written to you 1 
 
 Jjtrds. We have. 
 
 1 jMrd. And grieve to hear it. 
 
 What faults he made before the last, I think. 
 Might have found easy tines: but there to end. 
 Where he was to begin, and irivc away 
 The beneilt of our levies, answering us 
 With our own charge;' making a treaty, where 
 There was a yielding: This admits no excuse. 
 
 Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him. 
 
 Enter Cokiola>xs, with Drums and Colors; a 
 Crowd of Citizens loith him. 
 
 Cor. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; 
 No more infected with m>' coimtrj's love. 
 Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting 
 Under your great command. You arc to know. 
 That prosperously I have attempted, and 
 With bloody passage, led your wars, even to 
 The gates of Rome. Our spioils we ha\e brought 
 
 home. 
 Do more than counterpoise, a full third part. 
 The charges of the action. We have made peace. 
 With no less honor to the Antiates, 
 Than shame to the Komans: And we here de- 
 liver. 
 Subscribed by the consuls and pati'icians. 
 Together witn the seal o' the senate, what 
 ^Ve have compounded on. 
 
 A uf. Read it not, noble lords ; 
 
 But tell the traitor, in the highest degree 
 He hath abus'd your powers. 
 
 Cor. Traitor !-^How now ] 
 
 A uf. Ay, traitor, Marcius. 
 
 Cor. .. Marcius? 
 
 Auf. Av. Marcius, Caius Marcius; Dost thou 
 think 
 I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name 
 Corioianus in Corioli ? 
 
 S'ou lords and heads of the state, perfidiously 
 He has betray'd your business, and given up. 
 For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, 
 (I say. your city,) to his w'ife and mother : 
 
 » Th-^tU'-'ht me rewarded with good looks, « Tears. 
 
 ^Kewarding us with our own expenses. 
 
570 
 
 COJilOLANUS. 
 
 Act. V. Scene V. 
 
 Breaking his dhth and resolution, like 
 A twist of rotten silk; never admitting 
 Counsel o' the war; but at his nurse^s tears 
 He whin'd and roar'd away your victory; 
 That paffes blush'd at him, and men of heart 
 LookM wondering eacii at otlier. 
 
 Cor. Hear'st thou. Mars ': 
 
 Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears, — 
 Car. Ha ! 
 
 Aiff. No more. 
 
 Cur. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart 
 Too great for what contains it. Boy ! slave ! — 
 Pardon me. lords, 'tis the first time that ever 
 I was fore'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave 
 
 lords, 
 INIust give this cur the lie ; and his owm notion 
 ( Wiio wears my stripes impress'd on him ; tliat must 
 
 bear 
 My beating to his grave) shall join to thrust 
 The lie unto him. 
 
 1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. 
 Cor. Cut me to pieces. Voices ; men and lads. 
 
 Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False Jiound, 
 If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, 
 That like an ea^le in a dove-cote, I 
 Flutle-'d your Voices in Corioli : 
 Alone I did it. — Boy ! 
 
 Auf. . Why, noble lords. 
 
 Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, 
 Whicli was your shame, by this unlioly braggart, 
 'Fore your own eyes and ears ] 
 
 Con. Let him die for't. [Sereral speak at once. 
 
 CU. [Speakiiif; promiscuou.'dii.] Tear liim to 
 pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ; — my 
 daughter; — He killed my cousin Marcus; — He 
 killed my father. 
 
 2 Lord. Peace, ho ; — no outrage : — peace, 
 T)ie man is noble, and his fame folds in 
 This orb o' the earth. His last offence to us 
 Shall liave judicious* hearing. — Stand, Aufldius, 
 And trouble not the peace. 
 
 ^ Judiciol. 
 
 C(n: 0, that I had him. 
 
 With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, 
 To use my lawful sword ! 
 Auf. Insolent Villain ! 
 
 Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. 
 [ADFiDiiis and the Conspirators draw, and Mil 
 CORioLANCS, wlio falls, and AtJFiDii^a stands 
 Ofi tiim. 
 Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. 
 
 Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 
 
 1 iMrd. O Tullus,— 
 
 2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valor will 
 
 weep. 
 
 3 iMrd. Tread not upon him. — blasters all, be 
 
 quiet; 
 Put up your swords. 
 
 Auf. My lords, when you shall Imow {as in this 
 rage, 
 Provok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger 
 Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice 
 That he is thus cut off'. Please it your honors 
 To call me to your senate, I'll deliver 
 Myself your royal servant, or endure 
 Your lieaviest censure. 
 
 1 lAjrd. Bear from hence his body, 
 
 And mourn you for him : let him be regarded 
 As the most noble corse that ever herald 
 Did follow to his urn. 
 
 * 2 Lord. His own impatience 
 
 Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. 
 Let's make the best of it. 
 
 A uf. My rage is gone, 
 
 And 1 am struck with sorrow. — Take him up. 
 Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.— 
 Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: 
 Trail your steel pikes. — Though in this city lie 
 Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one. 
 Which to this hour bewail the injury. 
 Yet he shall have a noble memory. — 
 AsaisL' 
 
 [Exeunt, bearing the hodi/ of CoRiOLANoa 
 A dead Marcit soumled. 
 
 i 
 
JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTKD. 
 
 Julius C^sae, 
 
 MA^'pr'rfA'^TnNn'.^ iTriumvirs after the Death. 
 
 Mf'iMiL^Sm't^', \ «/Jul."« Caesar.. 
 
 Cicero, Publics, Pofilius Lena; Senators. 
 
 Marcus Brutus, 
 
 Cassius, 
 
 Casca, 
 
 Treboxius, 
 
 LiGARIUS, 
 
 Decks Brutus, 
 Metellos Cimber, 
 
 ClS.XA, 
 
 Flavius ajid Maru'llus, Tribunes. 
 
 Conspirators against 
 Julius CiEi^ar. 
 
 Artemidorus, a SopMst of Cuidos. 
 
 A Sootlisai/er. 
 
 CiNXA, a Pott. 
 
 Another Poet. 
 
 LuciLus, TiTixius, Messala, young Cato, and 
 
 VOLUMXius; Friends to Brutus and Cassius. 
 Varro, Clitus, Claudius, Strato, Lucius, Daeda- 
 
 Nius; Servants to Jirulus. 
 PiNDARUS, Servant to Cassius. 
 
 Calphurnta. IVife to Cxsar. 
 Portia, IVife to Brutus. 
 
 Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, ^c. 
 
 SCENE, during a great Part of the Play, at Rome : afterwards at Sardis ; and near Pliilippi. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Home. A Street. 
 Enter Flavius, Marullus, and a Rabble of Citi- 
 zens. 
 Flat: Hence ; home, you idle creatures, get you 
 home ; 
 Is this a Jioliday 1 What ! know you not, 
 Being mechanical, you ought not walk, 
 Ul^on a laboring day, without the sign 
 01 your protbssmn f — Speak, what trade art thoul 
 
 1 at. Why, sir, a carpenter. 
 
 Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thj' rule? 
 What dost thou with thy best apparel on 1 — 
 You, sir ; what trade are you \ 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, 
 I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. 
 
 Mar. But what trade art thou 1 Answer me di- 
 rectly. 
 
 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with 
 a sale consiencc ; which is, indeed, sir, a mender 
 of bad soles. 
 
 Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty 
 knave, what trade f 
 
 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir. be not out with 
 me: yet. if you be out, sir, I can mend you. 
 
 Mar. What meanest tiiou by that! Mend me, 
 thou saucy fclimv .' 
 
 2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. 
 
 Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou ? 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, sir, all tliat I live by is, with the awl: 
 I meddle wilii no tradesman's matters. nor women's 
 matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon 
 to old shoes ; wlien they are in great danger, I re- 
 cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon 
 neat's leather, have -^onc upon my handy-work. 
 
 Flav. lint wherefore art not in thy shop to-day 1 
 Why dost thou lead these men about the streets] 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get 
 myself into more work, 13ut, indeed, sir, we make 
 holiday, to see Ccesar, and to rejoice in his triumph. 
 
 Mar. VVlierefore rejoice? What conquest brings 
 he home ? 
 What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
 
 To grace in captive bonds iiis chariot wheels! 
 Vou blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless 
 
 things! 
 0, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, 
 Knew you not Pompey ? Many a lime and oft, 
 Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, 
 To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops. 
 Your inliints in your arms, and there have sat 
 The live-long day, with patient expectation. 
 To see great Pompey pass tiie streets of Rome : 
 And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
 Have you not made an universal shout. 
 That Tyber trembled underneath lier banks, 
 To iiear the replication of your sounds 
 Made in her concave shores ? 
 And do you now put on your best altire ? 
 And do you now cull out a lioltday I 
 And do you now strew llowcrs in his way. 
 That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? 
 Begone ; 
 
 Run to your houses, fol! upon your knees, 
 Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 
 That needs must light on this ingratitude. 
 
 Fiuv. Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault, 
 Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;' 
 Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears 
 Into the channel, till the lowest stream 
 Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizens. 
 See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd; 
 They vanish tongue-tied m their guiltiness. 
 Go you down tliat way towards the Capitol; 
 This way will I : Disrobe the images. 
 If you do tind them deck'd with ceremonies. 
 
 Mar. May we do so ? 
 You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. 
 
 Flav. It IS no matter; let no images 
 Be liung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, 
 And drive away the vulgar from the streets: 
 So do you too, where you perceive them thick. 
 These growing feathers plucVd from Caesar's wing, 
 
 » Kank. 
 
 571 
 
Oil 
 
 JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 Act T. 
 
 Will Tiiakc him fly an ordinary pitch ; 
 
 Wlio (rise would soar above the view of men, 
 
 And keep us all in servile learl'ulness. [JCa:eunt. 
 
 SCENE lh~ A public Place. 
 
 Enter, in Procession, with Music, C.^sar, Antony, 
 
 for the Course; CalmiuriNia, Portia, J)ecius, 
 
 Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a ^eat 
 
 Crowd fulUjwing^ among iheni a Soothsayer. 
 
 Csps. Calphurnia, — 
 
 Laaca. Peace, ho ' Ca;sar speaks. 
 
 • {Music ceases. 
 
 Cses, Calphurnia, — 
 
 Cal. Here, my lord. 
 
 Cses. Stand you directly in Antonius' way, 
 When he doth run his course.'-^— .Antoniuy,— 
 
 Ant. Caesar, my lord. 
 
 Cxs. Korp;et not, in your speed, Antonius, 
 To touch Calphurnia : lor our elders say, 
 Tlie barrtM), touched in this holy chase, 
 Sliake oil their sterile curse. 
 
 Ant. I shall remember: 
 
 When Ca3sar says, Do this, it is perlbrm'd. 
 
 Cses. Set on; and leave no ceremony out. [Music. 
 
 Sooth. Caesar. 
 
 Cses. Ha! who calls? 
 
 Casca. Bid every noise be still : — Peace yet af^ain. 
 
 [Music cca^'tes. 
 
 Caos. Who is it in the press,^ that calls on me i 
 I hear a tonjiuc, shriller than all the music, 
 Cry, C:esar; Speak; Ctesar is turn'd to hear. 
 
 hootk. Beware tiie ides of March. 
 
 CiL's. What man is that? 
 
 Bru. A sootlisayer, bids you beware tJie ides of 
 March. 
 
 Caes. Set him before me, let me see his face. 
 
 Cas. Fellow, come from tlie tlirong : Look upon 
 Caesar. 
 
 Cxs. What say'st thou to me now? Speak 
 once aj;ain. 
 
 Soot/i. Beware the ides of March. 
 
 Cazs. He is a dreamer; let us leave him; — pass, 
 [Sennet.'^ Exeunt alt but Bru. a7iil Cas. 
 
 Cas. Wiil you go see the order of tlie course? 
 
 Bru. Not i. 
 
 Cas. I pray you, do. 
 
 Bru, I am not gamesome : I do lack some part 
 Of that (juick spirit that is in Antony. 
 Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires: 
 I'll leave you. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: 
 I liave not from your eyes that gentleness, 
 And show of love, as I was wont to have : 
 You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand 
 Over your friend that love&you. ■ 
 
 Brtc. Cassius, 
 
 Be not deceiv'd : if I have veil'd my look, 
 1 turn the trouble of my countenance 
 Merely upon myself. Vexed I am, 
 Of late, witii passions of some ditlerence, 
 Conceptions only proper to myself^ 
 Whicli give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors: 
 But let not therefore my good friends be grieved ; 
 (Among which number. Cassius, be you one;) 
 Nor construe any further my neglect, 
 Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, 
 Forgets the shows of love to other men. 
 
 Cas. Then, Brutus, 1 have much mistook your 
 passion,^ 
 By means whereof, this breast of mine halh buried 
 Thoughts, of great value, worthy cogitations. 
 Tell mc, good Brutus, can you see your (ace ? 
 
 Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself, 
 But by rejection, by some other tilings. 
 
 Cas. 'Tis just: 
 And It is very much lamented, Brutus, 
 That you have no such mirrors, as will turn 
 Your hidden worthiness into your eye, 
 That you might see your shadow. I have heard, 
 Where many of the best respect in Rome, 
 (Except immortal Ca?sar,) speaking of Brutus, 
 And groaning underneath this age's yoke. 
 Have wish'd that noble Brutus had h'is eyes. 
 
 Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, 
 Cassius, 
 That you would have me seek into m3-self 
 For that which is not in nie ? 
 3 A ceremony observed nt tlic feast of Lupercalt'a. 
 " Crowd. « Flourish of iustrumentp. 
 
 a The nature of your feeliuys. 
 
 Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear: 
 And since you know you cannot see yourself 
 So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
 Will modestly discover to yourself 
 That of yourself which you yet know not of. 
 And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus : 
 Were I a common laugher, or did use 
 To stale'J with ordinary oaths my love 
 To every new protester; if you know ^ 
 That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard. 
 And aller scandal them ; or if you know 
 That I profess myself iji banqueting 
 To all the rout, then hold me darigerous. 
 
 [Flour'ish and Shout, 
 
 Bru. What means this shouting? I do iear, the 
 people 
 Choose Cassar for their king. 
 
 Cas. Ay, do you fear it "^ 
 
 Then must I think you would liut have it so. 
 
 Bru. I would not. Cassius ; yet I love him well : — 
 But wherelbre do you hold me here so long? 
 What is it that you would impart to me ? 
 If it be aught toward Hie general good, 
 Set hoimr in one eye, and death i' the other, 
 And i will look on both indillerently : 
 For, let the gods so speed me, as I love 
 The name of honor more than I fear death. 
 
 Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus 
 As well as I do know your outward favor 
 Well, honor is the subject of my story.— 
 1 cannot tell, what you and other men 
 TInnk of this lilc; but, lor my single self, 
 1 had as lief not be, as live to' be 
 In awe of such a thing as I myself. 
 I was born free as Ccesar ; so were you : 
 We both have fed as well : and we can both 
 Endure the winter's cold, as well as lie. 
 For once, upon a raw and gusty daj', 
 The troubled Tyber chaliiii; with her shores, 
 Caesar said to me, Dar''st thou, Cassius, noWj 
 Leap in witfi nie into this angnjjlood, 
 And sivini to yonder point? Upon the word, 
 Accoutred as I was, 1 plunged in. 
 And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. 
 The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it 
 With lusty sinews; throwing it aside 
 And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 
 But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 
 Cajsar cryM, Help mc, Cassius, or I sink. 
 I, as .Eneas, our great ancestor, 
 Did Iroiu the llames of Troy upon his shoulder 
 The old Anehises bear, so, from the waves of Tyber, 
 Did I the tired Cssar: And thus man 
 is now become a god; and Cassius is 
 A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 
 If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 
 Jle had a fever when he was in Spain, 
 And, when the fit was on liim, I did mark 
 How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake: 
 His coward lips did from their color fly; 
 And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 
 Did lose his lustre: I did hear him gro:ui: 
 Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
 Mark iiim, and write his speeches in their books, 
 Alas! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius, 
 As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
 A man of such a teeble temper' should 
 So get tlie start of the majestic world. 
 And bear the palm alone. [Stiout. Flourish. 
 
 Bru. Another general shout! 
 I do believe, that these applauses are 
 For some new iionors that are hcapM on Ca'sar. 
 
 Crt*.Why,man,hedoth bestride the narrow world, 
 Like a Colossus; and we petty men 
 \Valk under his huge legs, and peep about 
 To lind ourselves dishonorable graves. 
 I\Ien at some time are masters of their fiites , 
 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
 But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
 Brutus and Ca-sar: What should he in that Cjesar? 
 \VliyslioukIlh;it name be sounded more tiian yours? 
 Wnte iliriti loL'cthcr, yours is as fair a name ; 
 S.iuiul lliem, it doth become the mouth as well; 
 AVeii^h them, it is as heavy; conjure with them, 
 Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. [Sfiout. 
 Xitw in the names of all the gods at once, 
 lipon what meat doth this our CVsar leed, 
 That he is grown so great ! Age. thou art shamed: 
 Rome, thou hast lost tlic breed of noble bloods! 
 
 Make common. 
 
 1 Tern peril mcnlj constitution. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 When went there by an ajje. since the great Hood, 
 But it was !anrd with more than with one man I 
 Wiien could ihey say, till now, that talkM olRome, 
 That her wide walks eucompassM but one man ! 
 Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, 
 When Uicre is m it but one only man. 
 ()! you and I have Iieard our iatliers say, 
 There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd 
 Tlic eternal devil to keep ids state in Kome, 
 As eaSily a^a king. 
 
 Bru. Tliatyou do love me, lam nothing jealous; 
 What you would work me to, 1 have some aim ;^ 
 l!ow I have thought of this, and.of tliese times, 
 1 shall recount hereafter; lor this present, 
 I would not, so with love I might er.treat vou, 
 He any lurtlier movM. What you have said, 
 I will consider; wh;it you have to say, 
 I will with patience Iiear: and JniJ a time 
 itotli meet to hear, and answer, such high things. 
 Till tJien, my noble triend. chew'-* upon tJiis; 
 Brutus had rather be a villager. 
 Than to repute himself a son of Rome 
 Under these hard conditions as this time 
 Is like to lay upon us. 
 
 Cas. I am glad that my weak words 
 Have struck but thus much show of hrc from Brutus. 
 
 Re-enter Cesar, and his Train. 
 
 Bru. The games are done, and Caesar is returning. 
 
 Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; 
 And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you 
 What hath proceeded, worthy note, to-day. 
 
 Bru. I will do so :— But look you, Cassius, 
 Tlie angry spot doth glow on Cajsar's brow, 
 And ail the rest look like a chidden train : 
 Calphurnia's cheek is pale ; and Cicero 
 Looks with such ferret^ and sut.h hery eyes. 
 As we have seen him in the Capitol, 
 Being cross'd in corileienrc hy some senators. 
 
 Cas. Casca will tt-ll us what the matter is. 
 
 Cxs. Antonius, — 
 
 Ant. Caisar, — 
 
 C'rT.v. Let me have men al)out me that are fat; 
 Klirk-hi'adrd men, and such as sleep o'nights: 
 Vnini' Ciissius has a lean and hungry look ; 
 He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. 
 
 Ant. Fear him not, C<Tsar. he's not dangerous; 
 He is a noble Roman, and well given. 
 
 Ca-.?. 'Would he were fatter:— But 1 fear Iiimnot: 
 Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
 I do not know the man 1 should avoid 
 So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; 
 He is a great observer, and he looks 
 (^uite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, 
 As ihou dost, Antony; he hears no music: 
 Sekiom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort. 
 As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spnit 
 That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. 
 Such men as he be never at heart's ease, 
 Wliiles tliey behold a greater than themselves; 
 And tiiorelore are they very dangerous. 
 I rather tell thee what is to be fearM, 
 Tiian what I tear, for always I am Ctesar. 
 Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf. 
 And tell me truly what thou think'st of iiim. 
 
 [Exeunt C.^:sau a7id his Train, Casca 
 stays hefiind. 
 
 Casca. You puird me by the cloak; would you 
 spea k with me \ 
 
 Bru. Ay, Casca ; tell us what hatli chanced to-day, 
 That Cssar looks so sad. 
 
 Ca.'-ica. Why, you were with him, were vou not] 
 
 Bru. I should not then ask Casca what liath 
 eliancM. 
 
 Ca.'^cci. Wtiy. there was a crown ofTerM him: and 
 beiuL' oiler'd him. he put it by with the back of liis 
 hand, tims; and then the people tell a-shouting. 
 
 Bru. Wliat was the second noise ibr ] 
 
 Caica. Why. tor tliat too. 
 
 Cus, They snouted thrice; Whut was the last 
 cry for ] 
 
 Casca. VVhy, for that too. 
 
 Bru. Was the crown offered him thrice 1 
 
 Casca. Ay, marry, was't, and he i)ut it by thrice, 
 every time gentler than other; and at every putting 
 by, mine honest neighbors shouted. 
 
 Ca.'i. Who offered him the crown! 
 
 Casca. Why, Antony. 
 
 Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. 
 • Guess. 3 KumiD;ite. ' A ferret has red eyes. 
 
 Casca. I can as well be hanged as tell the man- 
 ner of it: it was mere Ibolery. I did not mark it. 
 I saw JMark Antony offer him a crown; — yet 'twas 
 not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets; 
 — and, as I told you, he put it by once; but, for all 
 that, to my thiidving, he would Iain have had it. 
 Tlien he offered it to him again; tlien he put it by 
 again; but, to my tliinking, he was very loath to 
 lay his lingers oti it. And then he offbred it the 
 tlnrd time; he put it the tJiird time by: and still as 
 he refused it, the rabblement hooted, and clapjjed 
 their chopped hands, and threw up their sweaty 
 night-caps, and uttered such a deal of slinking 
 breath because Casar refused tlie crown, that it 
 had almost choked Casar; lor he swooned, and fell 
 down at it: And lor mine own part, 1 durst not 
 laugh, tor lear of opening my hps, and receiving 
 the bad air. 
 
 Cas, But soft, I pray you: What! did Caisar 
 swoon ! 
 
 Casca. He lell down in the market-place, and 
 foamed at mouth, and was speechless. 
 
 Bru. 'Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness. 
 
 Cas. No, Casar hath it not: but you, and I, 
 And honest Casca, we have the laltiuf^-sickness. 
 
 Casca. I know not what you mean by tliat; but, 
 I am sure Ca'sar Irll down^ If the tag-rag people 
 did not clap iiim, and liiss him, according as he 
 pleased, and disjileased them, as they used to do the 
 players in the theatre, 1 am no true man. 
 
 Bru. What said he, when he came unto hitnself? 
 
 Casca. Marry, belbre he fell down, when he per- 
 ceived the common herd was glad he refused the 
 crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and offered 
 them his throat to cut. — An 1 had been a man of 
 any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a 
 word, I would 1 miglitgoto liell among the rogues: 
 — and so he fell. When lie came to himself again, 
 he said. If he had done, or said, anything amiss, he 
 desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. 
 Three or lour wenches, where 1 stood, cried. Alas, 
 gt)od .soul.' — and lorgave him witli all their hearts: 
 But tJiere's no heed to be taken ofthem; if Ca-sar 
 had stabbed their mothers, they would have done 
 no less. 
 
 Bru. And after that, he came, thus sad, awayl 
 
 Casca. Ay. 
 
 Cas. Did Cioero say any thing ! 
 
 Casca, Ay, lie spoke Greek. 
 
 Cas. To what effect? 
 
 Casca. Nay, an 1 tell you that, I'll ne'er look you 
 i' the face again: But tliose that understood him, 
 smiled at one another, and shook their heads; but, 
 lor mine own part, it was (Ireek to me. I could tell 
 you more news too: MaruUus and Flavius, ibr 
 pulling scarJs off'Ca'sar's images, are put to silence. 
 Fare you well. There was more Ibolery yet, if I 
 could remember it. 
 
 Cas. Will you sup with me to-nigtit, Casca 1 
 
 Casca. No. 1 am promised forth. 
 
 Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow T 
 
 Casca. Ay, if I he alive, and your mind hold, and 
 your dinner worth the eating. 
 
 Cas. Good: 1 will expect you. 
 
 Casca. Do so: Farewell botn. [Exit Casca. 
 
 Bru. What a blunt fellowthis is' grown to be; 
 He was quick mettle, when he went to school. 
 
 Cas. So is he now, in execution 
 Of any bold or noble enterprise, 
 Hijwever he puts on this tardj- form. 
 This rudeness is a sauce to ms good wit. 
 Which gives men stomach to digest his words 
 With better appetite. 
 
 Bru. And so it is. For this time I will leave you . 
 To-morrow, if you jileasc to speak with me, 
 I will come Iiome to you ; or, if you will, 
 Come home to me, and I will wait for you. 
 
 Cas. I will do so: — till then, think ot the world. 
 
 [Exit Brutub. 
 Well Brutus, thou art noble ; yet, I see, 
 Thy honorable metal may be "wrought 
 From that it is dispus'd :- Therelbre, His meet 
 That noble minds keep ever with their likes: 
 For who so tirm. tfiat caimot be seduc'd ! 
 Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus: 
 If I were Brutus now. and he were Cassius, 
 He should not humor^ me. I will this night, 
 In several hands, in at his windows throw, 
 As if they came from several citizens, 
 
 2 Disposed to. a C-jjole. 
 
574 
 
 JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 Act I. Scene III. 
 
 Writings all tending to the great opinion 
 
 That Rome lioids of liis name; wherein obscurely 
 
 Csesar';:; ambition shall be glanced at : 
 
 And, aller this, let Ca-sar seat him sure ; 
 
 For we will shake him, or worse days endure. 
 
 [Exit. 
 SCENE III.— J Street. 
 Thinvler and Lif^fttninK. Enter, from opposite 
 
 Aides, Casca, ii'i//i fiis Sword drawn, and Cicero. 
 
 Cic. Good even, Casca: Brought you Ca!sar home? 
 Why are you breathless! and why stare you so ! 
 
 Casca. Are not you mov'd, wlicn all the sway 
 of earth 
 Shakes, like a thing unfirm 1 Cicero, 
 I have seen tempests when the scolding winds 
 Have rived the knotty oaks ; and I have seen 
 The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and loam. 
 To he exalted with the tbrr.it'ning clouds: 
 But never till to-night, never till now, 
 Did 1 go through a tem]iest dropping fire. 
 Either there is a civil strife in heaven; 
 Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, 
 Incenses them to send destruction. 
 
 Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderful 1 
 
 Casca. A common slave (you know him well by 
 sight) 
 Held up his left hand, which did flame, and burn 
 Like twenty torclies join'd : and yet his hand, 
 Not sensible of fire. rcmainM unscoreh'd. 
 Besides, (I have not since put up my sword,) 
 Against the Capitol I met a lion, 
 Wlio glan^d upon me, and went surly by. 
 Without annoying me; and there were drawn 
 Upon a heap, a hundred ghastly women. 
 Transformed with their tear: w-ho swore, they saw 
 Men, all on fire, walk up ana down the streets. 
 And, yesterday, the bird of night did sit, 
 Even at noon-"day, upon the market-place. 
 Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies 
 Do so conjointly meet, let not men say. 
 These are their reasons, — They are natural; 
 For, I believe, they are portentous things 
 Unto the climate that they point upon. 
 
 Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: 
 But men may construe things alter their tiishion, 
 Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. 
 Comes Ca'sar to the Capitol to-morrow ,' 
 
 Casca. He doth ; tor he did bid Antonius 
 Send word to you, he would be there to-morrow. 
 
 fie. Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky 
 Is not to walk in. 
 
 Casca. Farewell, Cicero. 
 
 Enter Cassius. 
 
 Cra. Who's there? 
 
 Casca. A Roman. 
 
 C'ts. Casca, by your voice. 
 
 Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is 
 tills! 
 
 Cos. A very pleasing night to honest men. 
 
 Casca. Who ever know the heavens menace so ? 
 
 Cas. Those that have known tlie earth so full 
 of faults. 
 For my part. I have walkVl about the streets, 
 Submitting me unto the perilous night. 
 And, thus unbraced. Casca, as you see. 
 Have bared ray bosom to the thunder-storm ; 
 And, when the cross blue lightning sccni'd to open 
 The breast of heaven, I did present myself 
 Even in the aim and ve*5' (lash of it. 
 
 Cascu. But wherefore did you so much tempt 
 the heavens! 
 It is the part of men to fear and tremble. 
 When the most mighty gods, by tokens, send 
 Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. 
 
 Cas. You are duB, Casca; and those sparks of 
 life 
 That should be in a Roman, you do want. 
 Or else you use not: You look pale, and gaze. 
 And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder. 
 To see the strange impatience of the heavens : 
 But if y.<u v,ould consider the true cause, 
 Why all Ihese fires, why all these gliding ghosts, 
 Wliy birds and beasts, rrom quality and kind;J 
 Why old men, fools, and children calculate : 
 Why all these things change, from their ordinance, 
 Their natures and pro-formed faculties. 
 To monstrous quality; why, you shall find, 
 «>Vhy they deviiite from qunlity and nature. 
 
 That heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits, 
 To make them instruments of fear and warning, 
 Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, Casca, 
 Name to thee a man most like this dreadful mght ; 
 That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars 
 As doth the lion in the Capitol: 
 A man no mightier than thyself, or me. 
 In personal action ; yet prodigious grown, 
 And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. 
 
 Casca. 'Tis Caesar that you mean: Is it not, 
 Cassius ! 
 
 Cas. Let it be who it is : for Romans now 
 Have thews^ and limbs like to their ancestors; 
 But woe the while ! our fathers' minds are dead, 
 And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; 
 Our yoke and sullerance show us womanish. 
 
 Casca. Indeed, they say, the senators to-morrow 
 Mean to establish Caesar as a king: 
 And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, 
 In every place, save here in Ital)'. 
 
 Cas. I know where I will wear this dagger then: 
 Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius : 
 Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; 
 Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do deleat: 
 Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, 
 Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron. 
 Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; 
 But Bfe, being weary of these worldly bars. 
 Never lacks power to dismiss itself. 
 If I know this, know all the world besides, 
 That part of tyranny that I do bear, 
 I can shake oil at j^leasure. 
 
 Casca. So can I : 
 
 So every bondman in his own hand bears 
 The power to cancel his captivity. 
 
 Cas. And why should Ca-sar be a tjTant theni 
 Poor man ! I know, he would not be "a wolf. 
 But that he sees the Romans are but sheep : 
 He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.!* 
 Those that with haste will make a mighty fire. 
 Begin it with weak straws: What trash is Rome, 
 What rubbish, and what otial, wdien it serves 
 For the base matter to illuminate 
 So vile a thing as Cssar? But, O grief! 
 Where hast thou led me ! I, perhaps, speak this 
 Before a willing bondman: then I know 
 My answer must be made : But I am arm'd, 
 And dangers are to me indificrent. 
 
 Casca. You speak to Casca ; and to such a man. 
 That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold my liand: 
 Be factious lor redress of aU these griefs; 
 And I will set this foot of mine as far, 
 As who goes farthest. 
 
 Cas. There's a bargain made. 
 
 Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already 
 Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans, 
 To undergo with me an enterprise 
 Of honorable-dangerous consequence ; 
 And I do know, by this, they stay for me 
 In Pompey's porch : for now, this fearful night. 
 There is no stir, or walking in the streets; 
 And the complexion of the element 
 Is favor'd,' like the work we have in hand. 
 Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. 
 Enter Cinxa. 
 
 Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one 
 in haste. 
 
 Cas. 'Tis Cinna, I do Ktiow him by his gait ; 
 He is a friend.— Cinna, where haste 'you so ! 
 
 Cm. To find out you : Who's that ! Melcllus 
 ' Cimber! 
 
 Cas. No, it is Casca ; one incorporate 
 To our attempts. Am I not staid for, Cinna 1 
 
 Cm. I am glad oii't. What a fearful night is this ! 
 There's two or three of us have seen .strange sights. 
 
 Cas. Am I not staid for, Cinna? tell me.' 
 
 Cin. Yes- 
 
 You are. 0, Ca.ssius, if you could but win 
 The noble Brutus to our party 
 
 Cas. Be you content: Good Cinna, take this paper, 
 And look you, lay it in the priptor's chair. 
 Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this 
 In at his window: set this up with wav 
 Upon old Brutu.s' statue: all this done. 
 Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us, 
 Is Decius Brutus, and Trehonius, "there ! 
 
 Cin. All but Melcllus Cimber: and he's gone 
 To seek you at your hou.se. Well. I will hie. 
 And so bestow these papers as you bade me. 
 • Mueclcs. 'Deer. 'Apprars 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 575 
 
 Cas. That done, repair to Pompcy's theatre. 
 
 [ Exit CiNXA. 
 Come. Casca, j'ou and I will yet, ere day, 
 See Brutus at his house: three i">arts of him 
 Is ours already ; and the man entire, 
 Upon the next encounter, yields him ours. 
 
 Ca\cu. O, he sits high, in all the people's hearts: 
 And that whicli would appear offence in us. 
 
 Ilis countenance, like richest alchymy, 
 Will change to virtue, and to worthiness. 
 Ciis. Him, and his worth, and our gieat need ot 
 liim. 
 You have right well conceited. Let us go, 
 For it is af^er midnight; and, ere day. 
 We will awake him, and be sure of him. 
 
 [ExeuTii. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— Brutus's Orchartl 
 
 Enter ERrTia. 
 
 Brii. What, Lucius ! ho ! — 
 I cannot, by the progress of the stars, 
 Oivc guess how near to day. — Lucius, I say! 
 I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. 
 When, Lucius, when ? Awake, I say : What, Lucius ! 
 Enter Lccius. 
 
 Lite. Call'd you, my lord ? 
 
 Bra. Get mc a taper in my study, Lucius: 
 When it is lighted, come aiui call ine here. 
 
 Jaic. I will, my lord. \^Exif. 
 
 Brii. It must be by his death : and, for my part, 
 I know no personal cause to spurn at him. 
 But Ibr the general. He would be crowned : — • 
 How that might change his nature, there's the 
 
 question. 
 It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; 
 And that craves wary walking. Crown him ? — 
 
 That :— 
 And then, I grant, we put a sting in him. 
 That at his will he may do danger with. 
 Tile abuse of greatness is. when it disjoins 
 Remorse' from power: And, to speak truth of 
 
 CVsar, 
 I have not known when his alTection sway'd 
 More than his reason. But 'tis a common proofs 
 That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 
 AVIirrcIo the climuer upward turns his face: 
 But when he once attains the upmost round, 
 lie then unto the ladder turns his back, 
 Loojvs in the clouds, scorning the base degrees* 
 By which he did ascend: So Ciesar may: 
 Tiirn, lest he may, prevent. And, since' the quarrel 
 Will bear no color for the thing he is, 
 Fiisliicin it thus; that what he is, augmented, 
 WouliI run to these, and these extremities: 
 And therefore think him as a serpent's egg. 
 Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mis- 
 chievous ; 
 And kill him in the shell. 
 
 Re-enter Lrcirs. 
 
 Iaic. The taper burnetii in your closet, sir. 
 Searching the window for a ll'int, I found 
 This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure, 
 It did not lie there when I went to bed. 
 
 Brii. Get you to bed again, it is not day. 
 Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March ! 
 
 Luc. I know not, sir. 
 
 Bra. Look in the calendar, and bring mc word. 
 
 Luc. 1 will, sir. 
 
 Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air, 
 Gives so much light, that I may read by them. 
 
 [Ojieii.t the Litter, and reads. 
 Brutux, ttinu sleep'st ; awake, and .sfe Itiyself. 
 Stiall Riniie, i-c. Speak, -strike, redress ! 
 
 Brutus, ttiau steepest; awake 
 
 Such instisations have been often dropp'd 
 Wlier" I have took them up. 
 Stiall Rome, 4'C. Thus must I piece it out; 
 Shall Rome stand under one man's awe 1 What ! 
 
 Home ? 
 My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 
 The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king. 
 Speak, strike, redress .' — Am I entreated then 
 To speak, and strike? Rome! I make thoe 
 
 promise. 
 If tlie redress will follow, thou receivest 
 Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. 
 Re-enter LfcifS. 
 
 Luc. Sir, March has wasted fourteen days. 
 
 [Knock within. 
 
 • rity, tenderness. 9 Experienco. * Low steps. 
 
 Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody 
 knocks. [Exit Llcil-s. 
 
 Since Cassius first did whet me against Casar, 
 I have not slept. 
 
 Between the acting of a dreadful tiling 
 And the first motion, all the interim is 
 Like a phantasma.^ or a hideous dream : 
 The genius, and the mortal instruments, 
 Are then in council ; and the state of man, 
 Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
 The nature of an insurrection. 
 
 Re-enter Lucius. 
 
 lAtc. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, 
 Who doth desire to sec you. 
 
 Bru. Is he alone ? 
 
 Luc. No, sir, there are more with hiin. 
 
 Bra. Do you know them 1 
 
 Luc. No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their 
 ears. 
 And half their faces buried in their cloaks. 
 That by no means I may discover them 
 By any mark of favor.3 
 
 Bru. Let them enter. 
 
 I £jcit Lucifs 
 They are the faction. conspiracy ! 
 Sham'st tliou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 
 When evils are most free ! (), then, by day. 
 Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
 To mask Ihy monstrous visage ! Seek none, con- 
 spiracy; 
 Hide it in smiles, and aflirbilit}': 
 For if thou iialh thy native semblance on,-" 
 Not Erebus^ itself were dim enough 
 To hide thee from prevention. 
 Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cixka, Metellus 
 CiiiBEU, and Tkebosius. 
 
 Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest: 
 Good morrow, Brutus : Do we trouble you ! 
 
 Bru. 1 have been up this hour; awake all night. 
 Know I these niAi, that come along with you ? 
 
 Cas. Yes, c\ery man of llicm; and no man here, 
 But honors you : and every one doth wish, 
 You had but tliat opinion of yourself. 
 Which every noble Roman bears of you. 
 This is Trebonius. 
 
 Bni. He is welcome hither. 
 
 ('as. This, Decius Brutus. 
 
 Sru. He is welcome too. 
 
 Cas. This, Casca ; this, Cinna ; 
 And this, Metellus Ciniber. 
 
 Bru. They are all welcome. 
 
 What watchful cares do interpose tliemselves 
 Betwixt your eyes and night ! 
 
 Ca.i. Shall I entreat a word ! <Thei/ whisper. 
 
 Dec. Here lies the cast: i)oth not the day break 
 here? 
 
 Casca. No. 
 
 Cia. 0, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon grey lines. 
 That fret the clouds, arc messengers of day. 
 
 Casca. You shall confess, that you are uotli de- 
 ceiv'd. 
 Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises; 
 Which is a great way growing on the south. 
 Weighing the youthful season of the year. 
 Some two months licnccuphigherloward thenorth 
 He lirst presents his fire ; and the high east 
 Stands, ,as the Capitol, directly here. 
 
 Bra. Give me your hands all over, one by one. 
 
 Cas. And let us swear our resolution. 
 
 Bru. No, not an oath : If not the face^ of men, 
 The suOtrance of our souls, the time's abuse,— 
 
 ■> Vision. a Countenance. 
 
 « Walk in thy true form. » Hell. 
 
 1 Perhaps Sbakspeare wrote faith. 
 
576 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act 11. 
 
 If these be motives weak, break oflf betimes, 
 
 And every man hence to his idle bed; 
 
 So let high-sighted tyranny range on. 
 
 Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, 
 
 As I ;i^n sure they do, hear tire enough 
 
 To kindle cowards, and to steel with valor 
 
 The melting spirits of women ; then, countrymen, 
 
 What need we any spur, but onr own cause, 
 
 To prick us to redress ] what other bond. 
 
 Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word, 
 
 AtkI will not palter]' and what other oath, 
 
 Than honesty to honesty entraged, 
 
 That this shall be. or we will tall for iti . 
 
 Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous,^ 
 
 Old feeble carrions, and such .^utlering souls 
 
 That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear 
 
 Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain 
 
 Tile even virtue of our enterprise. 
 
 Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, 
 
 To tiiink, that, or our cause, or our performance, 
 
 Did need an oath ; when every drop of blood. 
 
 That every Roman bears, and nobly bears. 
 
 Is guilty of a several bastardy. 
 
 If he do break the smallest particle 
 
 Of any promise that hath pass d from him. 
 
 Co*. But what of Cicero I Shall we sound him 1 
 I think, he will stand very strong with us, 
 Ca^ca. Let us not leave him out, 
 CifJ. ■ No, by no means. 
 
 Mtt. 0, let us have him ; for Ins silver hairs 
 Will purchase us a good opinion. 
 And huy men's voices to commend our deeds; 
 It shall be said, his judgment rul'd our hands: 
 Our youths, and wildness, shall no whit appear, 
 But all be buried in his gravity. 
 Brti. O, name him not; let us not break with 
 him;i 
 For he will never follow any thing 
 That other men begin. 
 Cas, Then leave him out. 
 
 Casca. Indeed, he is not ht. 
 Dec. Shall no man else be toucliM but only 
 
 Caesar 1 
 Caft. Decius, well urged :— I think it isnotmeet, 
 Mark Antony, so well bclov'd ofCa'sar, 
 Should outlive Ciesar. We shall find of him 
 A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means, 
 If he improves them, may well stretch so far. 
 As to annoy us all: wliich to prevent, 
 Let Antony and Ciesar lall together. 
 Brii. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius 
 Cassius, 
 To cut the head ofT, and then hack the limbs; 
 Like wrath in death, and envy' afterwards: 
 For Antony is but a limb of Ca;sar. 
 Let us be sacriticers, but no butchers. Caius, 
 We all stand up aganist the spirit of Caesar ; 
 And in the spirit of men there is no blood : 
 0, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, 
 And not dismember Cisar ! But, alas, , 
 Cees-ar must bleed for it ! And, gentle friends, 
 Let^s kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; 
 Let's carve him as a dish fit tor the gods, 
 Not hew him as a carcase lit for hounds : 
 And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 
 Stir up their servants to an act of rage. 
 And allcr seem to chide them. This. shall make 
 Our imrpose necessary, and not envious: 
 Whicii so appearing to the conunon eyes, 
 We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. 
 And lur Mark Antony, think not of him; 
 For he can do no more than Ca;sar's arm, 
 When Caesar's head is olK 
 Cas, Yet I do fear him : 
 
 For lu the ingrafted love he bears to Cirsar: 
 
 Jiru. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him: 
 If tie love Cresar. all that he can do 
 Is to tiunself: take thought, and die for Cmsar: 
 And tliat wert^ much he should ; for he is given 
 To sjiDits. to wildness, and much company. 
 
 Treh. There is no tear in him. let him not die ; 
 For he will live, and laugh at this hcrt-aller. 
 
 [Clock strikes. 
 Sn/. Peace, count the clock. 
 (V/.v. The clock hath stricken three. 
 
 Trch. 'Tis time to part. 
 
 Ca.^. But it is doubtful yet, 
 
 Whe'r Cinsar will come forth to-day, or no: 
 ' l'rfv:iriciit<.'. s Cautious. 
 
 » Lvt us net break tlie matter to hiui. » Malice. 
 
 For he is superstitious grown of late; 
 Quite from the main opinion he held once 
 (Jf fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies : 
 ]t may be, these apparent prodigies, 
 The unaccustom'd terror of this night, 
 And the persuasion of his augu'rers. 
 May hold him from the Capitol to-day. 
 
 Dec. Never fear that : If lie be so resolv'd, 
 I can o'ersway him; ibr he loves to hear. 
 That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, 41 
 And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, 
 Lions with toils, and men with llatterers. 
 But, when I tell him, he Jiates flatterers, 
 He says, he does : being then most flattered. 
 Let niG work : 
 
 For I can give his hnmnr the true bent ; 
 And I will bring him to the Capitol. 
 
 Cas. Nay, we will allof us be there to fetch him. 
 
 Bru. By the eightl) hour: Is that the uttcrmostl 
 
 Cin. Be that the uttermost, and foil not then. 
 
 Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, 
 Who rated him for spealving well of Pompey ; 
 I wonder, none of you iiave thought of him. 
 
 Bni. Now, good Metellus, go along by him :2 
 He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; 
 Send him but hither, and I'll lashion him, 
 
 Cas. The morning comes upon us: VVe'll leave 
 you, Brutus : — 
 And, friends, disperse yourselves: but all remember 
 What you have said, and show yourselves true 
 Romans. 
 
 Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; 
 Let not our looks put on our purposes; 
 But bear it as our Roman actors do, 
 With untir'd spirits, and formal constancy: 
 And so, good-morrow to you every one. 
 
 [ Exeunt ail but BrutuS, 
 Boy I Lucius! — Fast asleep .' It is no matter; 
 Knjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 
 Tiiou hast no figures,i nor no fantasies, 
 Wiiich busy care draws in the brains of men; 
 Therefore thou sleep*st so sound. 
 
 Enter Portia. 
 
 P«*. Brutus, my lord ! 
 
 Bru. Portia, what mean you? Wherelbre rise 
 you now ! 
 It is not for your health tlins to commit 
 Your weak condition to the raw-cold morning. 
 
 For. Nor lor yours neither. You have ungenlly, 
 Brutus, 
 Stole from my bed : And yesternight, at supper, 
 You suddenly arose, and walk'd about. 
 Musing, and sighing, with your arms across: 
 And when I ask'd you what the matter was, 
 You stared upon me with ungentle looks: 
 I urged you further; then you scratch'd' your head, 
 And too impatiently stamp'd with your toot: 
 Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not ; 
 But with an angry wafture of your hand, 
 Gave sign for me to leave you : So 1 did ; 
 Fearing to strengthen that impatience. 
 Which seem'd too much enkindled ; and, withal, 
 Hoping it was but an eltect of humor, 
 Which sometime hatii his liour with every man. 
 It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; 
 And, could it work so much uj'on your shape 
 As it Iiath much prcvaifd on your condition,* 
 I should not know you, Bri:tus. Dear my lord. 
 Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 
 
 Bru. I am not well in hialih, and that is all. 
 
 For. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, 
 He would embrace the means to come by it. 
 
 Bru. Why, so I do : — good Portia, go to bed. 
 
 Pur. Is Brutus sick; and is it physical 
 To walk unbraced, and suck up the humors 
 Of the dank^ morning? What, is Brutus sick; 
 And will lie steal out of his wholesome bed, 
 To dare the vile contagion of the night ; 
 And tempt the rheumy^ and iinjiurged air 
 To add unto his sickness ! No, my Brutus; 
 You have some sick ollence within your mind, 
 Which, by the right and virtue of my place, 
 I ought to know of: And, upon my knees, 
 I charm you, by my once commended beauty, 
 By all your vows of love, and that great vow 
 Which did incorporate and make us one, 
 That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, 
 
 3 Ity his boustj. 3 Shnpos created by imajri nation. 
 
 * Temper. * Damp. « MoisL 
 
Scene II. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 577 
 
 Why you are heavy ; and what men to-night 
 Have had resort to you ; Ibr here have been 
 Some six or seven, "who did hide their laces 
 Even from darkness. 
 
 Brii. '- Knee] not, gentle Portia. 
 
 Pur. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. 
 Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Jirutus, 
 Is it excepted, I should know no secrets 
 That appertain to you ? Am I yourself, 
 Hut. as it were, in sort, or limitation ; 
 To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, 
 And talk to you sometimes ] Dwell 1 but in the 
 
 suburbs 
 Of jour good pleasure 7 If it be no more, 
 Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 
 
 Bru. You arc my true and honorable wife; 
 As dear to me as are the ruddy drops 
 That visit my sad heart. 
 
 Tor. If this were true, then should I know this 
 secret. 
 I grant, I am a woman; but, withal, 
 A woman that lord Brutus took to wife : 
 I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
 A woman well reputed : Cato's daughter. 
 Think you, I am no stronger than my sex, 
 Being so fatJier'ii, and so husbanded 1 
 Tell me your counsels, 1 will not disclose them: 
 i have made strong pror>f of my constancy. 
 Giving myself a voluntary wound 
 Here, in the thigli : Can I bear that with patience, 
 And not my husband's secrets? 
 
 Bni. O ye gods, 
 
 Render me worthy of this noble wile ! 
 
 \_Knockinf^ wilhin. 
 Hark, hark ! one knocks : Portia, go in a wlule; 
 And by and by thy bosom shall partake 
 The secrets ot my heart. 
 AH my engagements I will construe to thee, 
 All the charactery of my sad brows: — 
 Leave me with haste. {Exit Poetia. 
 
 Enter Lucres and Ligarius. 
 Lucius, who is that knocks? 
 
 Luc. Here is a sick man, that would speak with 
 you. 
 
 Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. — 
 Boy, stand aside. — Caius Ligarius! how ] 
 
 Xi^.Voucbsalti good-morrow from a feeble tongue. 
 
 Bru. O, what a time liave you chose out, brave 
 Caius, 
 To wear a kerchief] 'Would you were not sick! 
 
 Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus liave in hand 
 Any exploit worthy the name of honor, 
 
 Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, 
 Had you a healthlul-ear to hear of it. 
 
 Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before, 
 I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome! 
 Brave son, deriv'd from honorable loins! 
 Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur'd up 
 My niortitied spirit. Now bid me run, 
 Aud I will strive with things impossible; 
 Yea, got the better of them. What's to do ? 
 
 Bru. A piece of work, that will make sick men 
 whole. 
 
 Lig. But are not some whole, that we must make 
 sick \ 
 
 Bru. That must we also. What it is, my Caius, 
 I stiail untold to thee, as we are going. 
 To whom it must be done. 
 
 Lig. Set on your foot; 
 
 And with a heart new fired, I follow you, 
 To do I know not what : but it sutliceth. 
 That Brutus leads me on. 
 
 Bru. Follow me then. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCE\E II.— ^1 Room in Coesar's Palace. 
 
 Thunder and Liglilning. Enter Cesar, in Ms 
 
 Nigti/gown. 
 C3ES. Xor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace 
 to-night : 
 Thrice hath Cali:)hurnia in her sleep cried out, 
 help, fLo! tkey murder desar / Who's within? 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. My lord ? 
 
 Ci&s. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, 
 And bring me their opinions of success. 
 Hen; I will, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 37 
 
 Enter Calphurnia. 
 
 Cat. What mean you, C:es'ar ? Think you to 
 walk forth? 
 You shall not stir out of your house to-daj'. 
 
 Caw. Cfesar shall fortli: The things that threat- 
 en'd me. 
 Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see 
 The face of C^sar, they are vanished. 
 
 Cut. Cffisar, I never stood on ceremonies,'' 
 Yet now they fright me. There is one wilhin. 
 Besides the things that we have heard and seen. 
 Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 
 A lioness iialh whelped in the streets; 
 And graves have yawn 'd, and yielded up their dead: 
 Fierce fiery warriors light upon the clouds. 
 In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, 
 Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol: 
 The noise of battle hurtled* in the air. 
 Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan ; 
 And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streets, 
 
 Caisar ! these things are beyond all use. 
 And I do fear them. 
 
 Cws. What can be avoided. 
 
 Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods ? 
 Yet C:Esar shall go forth : for these prcdicllons 
 Are to the world in general, as to Csesar. 
 
 Cat. When beggars die, there are no comets seen; 
 The ficavens themselves blaze forth the death of 
 princes. 
 
 Ca?s. Cowards die many times before their deaths; 
 Tile valiant never ta-sle of death but once. 
 Of all the wonders that i yet have heard. 
 It seems to me most strange that men should fear; 
 Seeing that death, a necessary end. 
 Will come, when it will come. 
 
 Re-cnier a Servant. 
 
 What say the augurers? 
 
 Sen'. They would not have you to stir liirth to-day. 
 Plucking the entrails of an offering forth. 
 They could not find a heart within the be.ist. 
 
 Ca-s. The gods do this in shame of cowardice: 
 Cffisar should be a beast without a heart. 
 If he should stay at hmne to-day for fear. 
 No, CiEsar shall not : Danger knows full well. 
 That Caesar is more dangerous than he. 
 We were two lions litter'd in one day, 
 And I the cider and more terrible; 
 And C.Tsar shall go forth. 
 ■ Cat. Alas, my lord, 
 
 Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence. 
 Do not go lorlh to-day : Call it my fear. 
 That keeps you in the house, ami not your own. 
 We'll send ^lark ,\iiton)' to the senate-house; 
 .\nd he shall say, you are not well to-day: 
 Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. 
 
 Cie^. Mark .\iitony shall say, I am not well; 
 And, for thy humor, I will stay at home. 
 
 Enter Dtcifs. 
 Here's Dccius Brutus, he shall tell them so. 
 
 Dec. Cipsar.allhaill Good morrow, worthy Ciesar: 
 
 1 come to letch you to the senate-house. 
 
 Ca'S. And you arc come in very hajjpy time, 
 To bear my greeting to the senators. 
 And tell them, that I will not come to-day : 
 Cannot, is false; and that I dare not, falser; 
 I will not come to-day : Tell them so, Decius. 
 
 Cat. Sa}', he is sick. 
 
 Cws. Shall Ca?sar send a lie ? 
 
 Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, 
 To be ali-ard to tell gre\-bcards the truth ? 
 Decius, go tell them, C:esar will not come. 
 
 Dec. Alost mighty C,Tsar. let me know some cause. 
 Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so. 
 
 (.Vf.s. The cause is in my will, I will not come; 
 Tliat IS enough to satisfy the senate. 
 But, for your private salieliiction, 
 Because 1 love you, I will let you know. 
 Calphuruia here, my wife, stays me at home : 
 She dreamt to-night she saw my statue. 
 Which, like a fountain witli a hundred spouts. 
 Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans 
 Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it. 
 And these docs she apjily fbr warnings, portents 
 And evils imminent; and on her knee 
 Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to-day. 
 
 Dec. This dream is all amiss interpreted; 
 It was a vision, fiiir and fortunate ; 
 
 ' Never paid regard to prodiijics cr omens. ' Encountered, 
 
578 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Yourslatne spouting blood in many pipes, 
 In which so many smiUng Romans bath'd, 
 Signifies tliat from you great Rome sliall suck 
 Reviving blood ; and tliat great men shall press 
 For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance. 
 This by Calphurnia's dream is signified. 
 
 Cses. And this way have you well expounded it. 
 
 Dec. I ha^e, when you have heard what I can say: 
 And know it now: The senate have concluded 
 To give, this day,^ crown to mighty Ca:sar. 
 If you shall send them word, you will not come. 
 Their nnnds may change. Besides, it were a mock 
 A pt to be render'd, tor .some one to say, 
 lirtak up lilt senate till another time, 
 li'/iin L'w.iar's wife shall meet with better dreams. 
 If CjEsar hide himself, shall they not whisper, 
 La, Casar is afraid ? 
 
 Pardon me, CjEsar ; for my dear, dear love 
 To your proceeding bids me tell you this; 
 And reason to my love is liable.^ 
 
 Cass. How focilish do your fears seem now, Cal- 
 phurnia ? 
 I am ashamed I did yield lo them. — 
 Give me my robe, for I will go:^ 
 
 Enter PcBLirs, Brdtcs, Lir.Anirs, Metellus, 
 Casca, Trebonr'S, and Cixsa. 
 
 And look Tvhere Publius is come to fetch me- 
 
 Pub. Good-morrow, CiEsar. 
 
 Cses. Welcome, Publius. — 
 
 What, Brutu.s, are you .stirr'd .so early too !— 
 Good-morrow, Casca. — Caius Ligarius, 
 Ca'sar was ne'er so much your enemy. 
 As that same ague which hath made you lean. — 
 What is't o'clock f 
 
 Bru. Cffisar, 'tis strucken eight. 
 
 Cses. I thank you tor your pains and courtesy. 
 
 Enter Antony. 
 Sec ! Antony, that revels long o' nights, 
 Is notwithstandnig up : — 
 Good-morrow, Antony. 
 Ant. So to most noble Cajsar. 
 
 Ci€s. Bid them prepare within: — 
 I a;n to blame to be tlius waited lor. — 
 Kow, tiima: — Now, Metellus: — W^hat, Trebo- 
 
 nius ! 
 I have an hour's talk in store for j-ou ; 
 Remember that you call on me to-day : 
 lie near me, that" I may remember you. 
 Treb. Ciesar, I will: — and so near" will I be, 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Th.atyour best friend shall wish I had been hirtber. 
 
 Cecs. Good friends, go in, and taste some wine 
 
 with Tne ; 
 
 And we, like friends, will straightway go together. 
 
 Bru. That every like is not the same, O Cajsar, 
 Tile heart of Brutus jearns' to think upon ! 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— .4 Street near the CapUul. 
 Enter Aktemidorus, reading a Paper. 
 Art. Caisar, beware of Brutus ; fake heed of Cas- 
 si ns ; come not near Casca ; tuive an eye to Cinna ; 
 trust not Trebonius ; mark well Metellus Cimber; 
 Decius Brutus loirs thee not ; thou hast wronged 
 Cams Ligarius. Tliere is but one mind in all lltrse 
 i/ifii. and it is bent against Ciesar. If thou be\yt 
 not imnurrtat, look about you : Security gives way 
 
 to conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee! 
 
 Thy lover, Artemidorus. 
 
 Here will I stand, till Csesar pass along 
 
 And as a suitor will I give him this. 
 
 My heart laments, that virtue cannot live 
 
 Out of the teeth of emulation.- 
 
 If thou read this, O Ctesar, thou may'st live; 
 
 If not, the lates with traitors do contrive. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Another Pari of the same Street, 
 before the House of Brutds. 
 
 Enter Portia and Lucius. 
 
 For. I pr'ythee, boy, run to the senate-house : 
 Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone : 
 Why dost thou stay ! 
 
 Luc. To know my errand, madam. 
 
 Pur. I would have had thee there, and here again, 
 Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.— 
 
 Constancy, be strong upon my side ! 
 
 Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! 
 
 1 have a man's mind, but a woman's might. 
 How hard it is for women to keep couiibel ! 
 Art thou here yet ^ 
 
 Luc. Madam, what should I do ? 
 
 Run (0 the Capitol, and nothing else ! 
 And so return to you, and nothing else ? 
 
 Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look 
 well. 
 For he went sickly forth : And take good note, 
 What Caasardoth, what suitors press to him. 
 Hark ! boy, what noise is that ! 
 
 Luc. I liear none, madam. 
 
 Por. ■ Pr'ythee, listen well; 
 
 I heard a bustling rumor like a fray. 
 And the wind brings it from Ihe Capitol. 
 
 Luc. Sooth,3 madam, I hear nothing. 
 
 Enter Soothsayer. 
 
 Por. Come hither, fellow : 
 
 Which way hast thou been? 
 
 Sooth. At mine own house, good lady. 
 
 Pin-. What is't o'clock ! 
 
 Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady. 
 
 Por. Is Cres.ar yet gone to the Capitol ! 
 
 Sooth. Madam, not yet; I go to lake my stand, 
 To see him pass on to the Capitol. 
 
 Por. Thou hastsomesuittoCiEsar.hast thou not? 
 
 Sootli. That I have, lady : if it will please Cxsar 
 To be so good to Cajsar. as to hear me, 
 I shall beseech him to befriend himself. 
 
 Pur. Why, know'st Ihou any harm's intended 
 towards him ! 
 
 Sooth. None that I know will be, much that I 
 fear may chance. 
 Good-morrow to you. Here the street is narrow : 
 The throng that follows Ca>sar at the heels, 
 Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, 
 VVill crowd a lecble man almost to dealh: 
 I'll get me to a place more void, and there 
 Speak to great Cssar as he comes along. [E.rit. 
 
 Por. I must go in.— Ah me ! how weak a thing 
 The heart of woman is ! O Brutus! 
 The heavens speed thee in thy enterprise! 
 Sure the boy heard me :— Brutus hath a suit, 
 That C.Tsar will not grant.— O. I grow faint:— 
 Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; 
 Say, 1 am merry: come to me again. 
 And bring me word what he doth say to thee. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE 1.— The Capitol; the Senate sitting. 
 A Crowd if People in tlie Street leading to the 
 Capitol: among them Artemidorus and the 
 Soothsayer. Flouriih. Enter C.ksar, Brutus, 
 Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Tueeo- 
 
 KIUS, CtNNA, ANTO.NY, LEI'IDUS, Pol'lLIUS, PUBLIUS, 
 
 and others. 
 
 (',T.s. The Ides of March are come. 
 Sooth. Ay, Ca'sar ; but not gone. 
 Art. Haii, Ca-sar! Read this schedule. 
 Dec. Trebonius dolh desire yon to o'er-read. 
 At your best leisure, this his h'umblc suit. 
 
 " Subordinate. > Grioves. 
 
 Art. O C.Tsar, read mine first ; for mine's a suit 
 That touches Cajsar nearer: Read it, great Cojsar. 
 
 ■Cus. What touches us ourself, shall be l.astserv'd. 
 
 Art. Delay not, Caesar ; read it instantly. 
 
 Ca-.s. What, is the fellow mad ! 
 
 Pub. Sirrah, give place. 
 
 Cas. What, urge you your petitions in the street ! 
 Come to the Capitol. 
 
 C/ESar enters the Capitol, the restfolliAving. 
 
 All the Senators rise. 
 Pop. I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive. 
 Cas. What enterprise, I'opiliusi 
 
 " JSnvy. I In truth. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 JULIUS C.-ESAK. 
 
 579 
 
 Pop. Fare you well. 
 
 [Arlvances to Cesar. 
 Brii. What said Popilius Lena! 
 Cus. He wish'dto-daj- our enterprise might thrive. 
 I tear, our purpose is discovered. 
 Bru. Look, how he makes to Ciesar: Mark him. 
 Cas. Casca, be Rudden, for we tear prevention. 
 Brutus, what .'shall he done ! If Ihis be known, 
 Cassius or Ca!sar never shall turn back. 
 For I will slay myself. 
 
 Bru. Cassius, be constant : 
 
 Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; 
 For, look, he smiles, and Ciesar duth not change. 
 Cas. Trebonius knows his time; tor, look you, 
 Brutus. 
 He draws jMark Antony out of the way. 
 
 [hUeimt AxTONV and TREBoxit's. Cesar 
 anil the Senators take ttieir Seats. 
 Bee. Where is Metellus Cimbcr? Let him go. 
 And presently prefer his suit to Cesar. 
 Bru. He is addrcss'd :' press near.and second him. 
 Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. 
 Cas. Are we all ready ? what is now amiss. 
 That Cffisar and his senate must redress ! 
 Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puis- 
 sant Cffisar, 
 Metellus Ciinbcr throws before thy scat 
 An humble heart:— [Kneeling. 
 
 Cies. I must prevent thee, Cimber. 
 
 These couchings, and these lowly courtesies, 
 Might lire the blood of ordinary men. 
 And turn pre-ordinance, and Hrst decree, 
 Into the law of children. Be not Ibnd, 
 To think that Cesar bears such rebel blood, 
 That will be thaw'd from the true quality 
 With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words, 
 Low-crookM court'sies, and base spaniel lii wiling. 
 Thy brother by decree is banished ; 
 If tliou dost bend, and pray, and fawni for him, 
 I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. 
 Kno\v,Ca;sar doth not \vrong; nor without cause 
 WrtI he be satisfied. 
 
 Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own, 
 To sound more sweetly in great Cesar^s ear. 
 For the repealing of my banishM brother! 
 
 Bru. I Idss thy hand, but not in (lattery, Caesar ; 
 Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may 
 Have an immediate freedom of repeal. 
 Cxs. What, Brutus ? 
 
 Cas. Pardon, CtEsar ; Cffisar, pardon : 
 
 As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall. 
 To beg enfrancliisement for Publius Cimber. 
 
 Caes. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you; 
 If I could pray to move, prayers would move me: 
 But I am constant as the northern star. 
 Of whose truc-fix'd and resting quality. 
 There is no fellow in the Hrmaiuent. 
 The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, 
 They are all fire, and every one doth shine; 
 But there's but one in all doth hold his place: 
 So, in the world ; 'lis furnish'd well with men. 
 And men arc Hesh and blood, .and apprehensive ;> 
 Yet, in the number, I do know but one 
 That unassailable holds on his rank, 
 Unshak'd of motion fi and, that I am he, 
 Let me a little show it, even in this; 
 That I was consUint, Cimber sliould be banish'd, 
 And constant do remain to keep him so. 
 
 Cin. O Cffisar. 
 
 CaiS. Hence ! Wilt thou lift up Olympus 1 
 
 Dec. Great Cajsar. 
 
 t'a?.'- Doth not Brutus bootless' kneel ' 
 
 Casca. Speak, hands, for me ! 
 
 [Casca stah.t Cesar in the neck. Cesar 
 cat r lies liolil of his arm. He it then 
 stahhcil hi/ sereral other Conspirators, 
 awl at last In/ MARCfS Brcti'.s. 
 Ca;s. Et tu. Brule .?«— Then fall, Cesar. 
 
 [Dies. The Senators and People retire in 
 con) iisi/in. 
 Cin. Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead '— 
 Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. 
 
 Ca.5. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out 
 Lihertij, freedom, and enfranchisement .' ' 
 
 Bru. People, and senators! be not aflrighted • 
 Fly not ; stand still :— ambition's debt is paid ' 
 Ca.ica. Go tu the pulpit, Brutus. 
 ■^f<^- And Cassius too. 
 
 •Ready. •Intelligent. • Soli.-itation. 
 
 ' Unsuccessfully. ■ And thou, Brutas ) 
 
 Bni. ^Vhere's Publius! 
 
 ('ill. Here, quite conlbunded n-ith this mutiny. 
 
 Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend' of 
 CVsar's 
 Should chance • 
 
 Bru. Talknotofstanding;— Publius, good cheer; 
 There is no harm intended to your person. 
 Nor to no Roman else : so tell them, Publius. 
 
 Cas. And leave us, Publius, lest that the people. 
 Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. 
 
 Bru. Do so; — and let no man abide this deed, 
 But we the doers. 
 
 Re-enter Trebonius. 
 
 Cas. Where's Antony ! 
 
 "^fe. Fled to his house amaz'd : 
 
 Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run, 
 As it were doomsday. 
 
 Bru. Fates! we will know your pleasures :-— 
 That we shall die, we know; "'tis but the time. 
 And drawing days out, that men stand upon. 
 
 Cas. Why, he that cuts olf twenty years of life, 
 Cuts off so many years of fearing death. 
 
 Bru. fJrant that, and then is death a benefit: 
 So are we Ctesar's friends, that have abridg'd 
 His time of fearing death. — Stoop, Romans, stoop, 
 And let us bathe our hands in Cajsar's blood 
 Up to the clbow-s, and besmear our swords: 
 Then walk we forth, even to the market-place; 
 .\nd. waving our red wcajions o'er our heads. 
 Lei's all cry, Peace ! Freedom ! and Liberty ! 
 
 Cas. Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages 
 hence. 
 Shall this our lofty scene be acted over. 
 In stales unborn, and accents yet unknown ! 
 
 Bru. How many times shall CsEsar bleed in sport. 
 That now on Pompey's basis lies along. 
 No worthier than the dust ! 
 
 Cas. So oft as that shall be, 
 
 So ollen shall the kniot of us be call'd 
 The men that gave our country liberty. 
 
 Dec. What, shall we forth ! 
 
 Cas. Ay, every man away : 
 
 Brutus shall lead; and wc will grace his heels 
 With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Bru. Soft, who comes here? A friend of An- 
 tony's. 
 
 Sen: Thiis, Brutus, did mvmasterbid nic kneel; 
 Thus did Mark Antony bid ine fall down: 
 And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say. 
 Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; 
 Cesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving : 
 Say, I love Brutus, and I honor him ; 
 Say, I fear'd Ciesar. honor'd him, and lov'd him. 
 If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony 
 May safely come to him. and be resolv'd 
 How Ca-siir hath deserv'd to lie in death, 
 Mark Antony shall not love Ca?sar dead 
 So well as Brutus living ; but will follow 
 The fortunes and alliiirs of noble Brutus 
 Thorougli the hazards of this untrod state. 
 With all true faith. So says my master Antony. 
 
 Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roma'n: 
 I never thought him worse. 
 Tell him, so please him come unbi this place, 
 He shall be satisfied ; and, by my honor. 
 Depart untouch'd. 
 
 Serv. I'll fetch him presently. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Bru. Ik-nowthatweshall have him well to friend. 
 
 Cas. I wish we may; hut yet have I a mind. 
 That fears him much ; and my misgiving still 
 Falls shrewdly to the purpose. 
 
 Re-enter Antony. 
 
 Bru. But here comes Antony.— Welcome, Mark 
 .\ntony. 
 
 .4nt. O mighty Ca>sar! Dost thou lie so low? 
 Are all thy con<juesls, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
 Shrunk to this liltle'nii-asnre !— Fare thee well.— 
 I know not. geutlemeii. what you intend, 
 Willi else must be let blood, who else is rank :9 
 If I myself, there is no hour so fit 
 As C.Tsnr's death's hour; nor no instrument 
 ( if iKilf that worth, as those your swords, made rich 
 With the most noble blood of all this world. 
 1 do beseech ye, if you bear me hard. 
 Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, 
 > Grown too high for the puUic saffty. 
 
580 
 
 JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 Act. III. 
 
 Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
 
 I shall not find myself so apt to die ; 
 
 No place will please me ao, no mean of death, 
 
 As here by Caesar, and by you cut oft", 
 
 The choice and master-spirits of this age. 
 
 Bru. Antony ! beg not your death of,us. 
 Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, 
 As, by our hands, and this our present act. 
 You see we do ; yet see you but our hands. 
 And this the bleedins business they have done : 
 Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful ; 
 And pity to the general wrong of Rome 
 (As hre drives out fire, so pity, pity) 
 Hath done this deed on Co'sar. For your part. 
 To you our swords have leaden points.'Mark Antony: 
 Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts, 
 Of brother's temper, do receive you in 
 With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. 
 Ciis. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's. 
 In the disposing of new dignities. 
 
 Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeasM 
 The multitude, beside themselves with ti?ar, 
 And then we will deliver you the cause, 
 Why I, that did love Ca;sar when I struck him, 
 Have thus proceeded. 
 
 -4"'- I doubt not of vour wisdom. 
 
 Let each man render me his bloody hand : 
 Fust, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you ;— 
 Next, faius Cassius, do I take your hand ; 
 Now, Decius Brutus, yours;— now yours, Me- 
 
 tellus; 
 Yours, Cinna; and my valiant Casca, yours;— 
 Tliough last, not least in love, yours, good Trebo- 
 
 nius. 
 Gentlemen all,— alas ! what shall I say ? 
 IMy credit now stands on such slippery ground. 
 That one of two bad ways you must conceit me. 
 Either a coward, or a flatterer. — 
 That I did love thee, Ca>sar, O, 'tis true: 
 H' then thy spirit look upon us now. 
 Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death, 
 To see thy Antony making his peace. 
 Shaking the bloody lingers of thy liies. 
 Most noble! in the presence of thy corse 1 
 Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, 
 Wecpnig as fast as they stream (brth thy blood, 
 It would become me better, than to close 
 In terms of fi-iendship with thine enemies. 
 Pardon me, Julius !— Here wast thou bay'd, brave 
 
 hart ; 
 Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand, 
 Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe. 
 
 world ! thou wast the forest to this hart; 
 And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.— 
 How like a deer, stricken by many princes. 
 Dost thou here lie ! 
 
 Cas. JIark Antony, 
 
 „'•''''• . Pardon me, Caius Cassius: 
 
 The enemies of Csesar shall say this: 
 Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. 
 
 Vas. I blame you not tor praising Crrsar so" 
 But what compSct mean you to have with us"' 
 Will you be prick'd in number of our friends- 
 Or shall we on, and not depend on you ! ' 
 
 -/In/. Therclor,' I took \oin hands ;liut was, indeed 
 Sway'd Irom the point, by looking down on Ca;sar! 
 
 1 riends am I with you all, and love you all ; 
 L'poii 'lus hope, that you shall give me reasons, 
 \\ by, and wherein, Cx-sar was dangerous. 
 
 Bni. Or else, wore this a savage spectacle : 
 Our reasons are so full of good regard. 
 That were you, Antony, the son of Cffisar, 
 You should be satislied. 
 
 -•I,"'- That's all I seek: 
 
 And am moreover suitor, that I may 
 Produce his body to the market-place; 
 And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, 
 .'ipeak in the order of his funeral. 
 
 Bru. You shall, Mark Antony. 
 ,.''"■?• , Brutus, a word with you.— 
 
 1 ou know not what you do : Do not consent. 
 
 That .\ntony speak in his funeral: 
 
 Know you how much the people may be mov'd 
 
 By that which he will utter ? 
 
 I ■^'li'' ,,■ ■ , , By your pardon; 
 
 I will myself into the pulpit first, 
 
 And show the reason of our Ca;sar's death • 
 
 W hat .\ntony shall spealc, I will protest 
 
 He s])ealcs by leave and by permission ; 
 
 And that we are contented. Ctesar shall 
 Have all true rites, and lawful ceremonies. 
 It shall advantage more, than do us wrong. 
 Cas. I know not wliat may fall ; I like it not. 
 Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Ciesar's body 
 You shall not in your funeral speech blame us. 
 But speak all good you can devise of Csesar; 
 And say, you do't by our permission; 
 Else shall you not have any hand at all 
 About his funeral: And you shall speak 
 In the same pulpit whereto I am going. 
 Alter my speech is ended. 
 
 Ani. Be it so; 
 
 I do desire no more. 
 Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us. 
 
 [E.Vfuii/ all hut Antony 
 AnI. O, pardon me,lhou bleeding piece of earth 
 That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! 
 Thou art the ruins of the noblest man, 
 That ever lived in the tide of times. 
 Woe to the hand that slied this costly blood! 
 Over thy wounds now do I prophesy — 
 Which, like dumb mouths, do ope t'heir ruby lips 
 To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue: — 
 A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; 
 Domestic fury, and tierce ciWl strife. 
 Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; 
 Blood and destruction shall be so in use, 
 And dreadful objects so familiar. 
 That mothers shall but smile, when they behold 
 Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war: 
 All pity choked with custom of fell deeds: 
 And C-Tsar's spirit, ranging ibr revenge. 
 With At4 by his side, come hot from hell. 
 Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
 Cry, Hamc.'< and let slip the dogs of war; 
 That this foul deed shall smell above the earth, 
 With-carrion men groaning for burial. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Yon serve Octavius Ca?sar, do you not! 
 SVri'. I do. Mark Antony. 
 
 Ant. Ciesar did write for him to come to Rome 
 tierv. He did receive his letters, and is coming: 
 And bid me say to you by word of mouth, — 
 
 Ca!sar ! [ Seeing; the Body. 
 
 .int. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. 
 Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes. 
 Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, 
 Began to water. Is thy master coming? 
 Sen: He lies to-night within seven leagues of 
 
 Rome. 
 Ant. Post back with spced,and tell him what hath 
 chanced : 
 Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, 
 No Rome of safety ibr Octavius yet ; 
 Hie hence, and fell him so. Yet, stay a while; 
 Thou Shalt not back, till I have borne this corse 
 Into the market-place; there shall I try, 
 In my oration, how the people take 
 The cruel issue of these bloody men; 
 According to the which, thou shalt discourse 
 To young Octavius of the state of things. 
 Lend me your hand. [Exeunt, ivitfi CyKSAit's Boiiij. 
 
 SCENE U.—Tfie Forum. 
 Enter BRUTca and Cassics, and a Throng of 
 Citizens. 
 Cit. We will be satisfied ; let us be satisfied. 
 Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience, 
 friends. — 
 Cassius, go you into the other street. 
 And part the numbers. — 
 
 Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here; 
 Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; 
 And public reasons sh.-Ul be rendered 
 OfC.Tsar's death. 
 
 1 ('it. I will hear Brutus speak. 
 
 2 Vit. I will hear Cassius, and compare their 
 
 reasons. 
 When severally we hear them rendered. 
 
 [Exit Cassius, with some ofthe Citizens. 
 BmiTLS goes into tlic Rostrum. 
 
 3 Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended: Silence! 
 Bru. Be patient till the last. 
 
 Romans, countrymen, and lovers !2 hear me for my 
 cause; and be silent, that ye may hear: believe me 
 for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, 
 that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; 
 * The signal for giving no quarter. « Friends. 
 
Scene IL 
 
 JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 581 
 
 and awake your senses, that you may the better 
 judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear 
 friend of Cffisars, to iiim I say, that Brutus' love 
 to Csesar was no less tlian his. If then that friend 
 demand, why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my 
 answer, — Nut tliat I loved Csesar less, but that I 
 loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were 
 living, and die all slaves: than that Cresar were 
 dead, to live all tree men; As Cscsar loved me, I 
 weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; 
 as he was vaUant, I honor him: but, as he was 
 ambitious, I slew him: There is tears, for his love: 
 jo}', for his fortune; honor, for his valor; and 
 death, for his ambition. Who is here so base, that 
 would be a bondman 1 If any, speak; for him 
 have I olfended. Who is iicre so rude, that would 
 not be a Roman! If any, speak; for him have I 
 offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his 
 country ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. 
 I pause for a reply. 
 
 CU. None, Brutus, none. 
 
 [Several speaking at once. 
 
 Bru. Then none have I oliended, I have done no 
 more to Ca;sar, than you should do to Brutus. The 
 question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol: his 
 glory not extenuated, whereiii he was worthy ; nor 
 his oflences enforced, for which he sutTered death. 
 
 Enter Antoxy and others^ with Cesar's Body. 
 Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: 
 who, though he had no hand in his death, shall 
 receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the 
 commonwealth: As which of you shall not ? With 
 this I depart; That as I slew my best lover for the 
 good ot Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, 
 when it shall please my country to need my death, 
 
 at. Live, Brutus, live! live! 
 
 1 at. Bring him with triumph home unto his 
 
 house. 
 
 2 Cif. Give him a statue with his ancestors. 
 
 3 at. Let him be Ccesar. 
 
 4 at. Caesar's better parts 
 Shall now be crown'd in Brutus. 
 
 1 at. We'll bring him to his house with shouts 
 
 and clamors. 
 Bru. My countrymen, 
 
 2 at. Peace; silence! Brutus speaks. 
 1 at. Peace, ho ! 
 
 Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone, 
 And. for my sake, stay here with Antony : 
 Do grace to Csesar's corpse, and grace his speech 
 Tending to Caesar's i;!orics: which Mark Antony, 
 By our permission, is allowed to make. 
 I do entreat you, not a man depart. 
 Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [ExU, 
 
 at. Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony. 
 
 3 at. Let him go up into the public chair; 
 We'll hear him : — Noble Antony, go up. 
 
 Ant, For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to j'ou. 
 
 4 at. What does he say of Brutus? 
 
 3 at. "lie says, for Brutus' sake, 
 He tinds himself beholden to us all. 
 
 4 at. 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus 
 
 here. 
 
 1 at. This Csesar was a tyrant. 
 
 3 at, Nav, that's certain: 
 
 We are bless'd that Rome is rid of him. 
 
 2 at. Peace; let us hear what Antony can say. 
 Ant. You gentle Romans, 
 
 at. Peace, ho ! let us hear him. 
 
 Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me 
 your ears; 
 I come to bury Csesar, not to praise him. 
 The evil, that men do, lives alter them ; 
 The good is ol> interred with their bones; 
 So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus 
 Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious ; 
 If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
 And grievously hath Ctesar answerM it. 
 Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 
 (For Brutus is an honorable man; 
 So are they all, all lionorable men ;) 
 Come I to speak in C:esar"'s funeral. 
 He was my friend, laithful and just to me: 
 But Brutus says he was ambitious; 
 And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
 Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: 
 Did this in Cresar seem ambitious I 
 When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept : 
 
 Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
 
 Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; 
 
 And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 
 You all did see, that on the Lupercal, 
 
 1 thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
 
 Wliich he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition'? 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
 
 And, sure, he "is an honorable man. 
 
 I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
 
 But here I am to speak what I do know. 
 
 You all did love him once, not without cause ; 
 
 What cause withholds you then to mourn fnr him? 
 
 judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts. 
 And men have lost their reason! — bear with me; 
 My heart is in the coltin tJiere with Caesar, 
 
 And I must pause till it come back to me. 
 
 1 at. INIethinks, there is much reason in his 
 
 sayings. 
 
 2 at. If'thou consider rightly of the matter, 
 Csesar has had great wrongs. 
 
 3 CU. Has he, masters'? 
 
 1 fear, there will a worse come in his place. 
 
 4 at. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take 
 
 the crown; 
 Therefore, 'tis certain, he was not ambitious. 
 
 1 at. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. 
 
 2 at. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with 
 
 weeping. 
 
 3 at. There's not a nobler man in Rome than 
 
 Antony. 
 
 4 at. Now mark him, he begins again to speak. 
 Ant. But yesterday, the word of Cssar mi^ht 
 
 Have stood against the world: now lies he there, 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. 
 
 masters! if I were disposed to stir 
 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
 Who, you all know, are honorable men: 
 
 I will iiot do them wrmig; I rather choose 
 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 
 
 Than I will wrong such honorable men. 
 
 But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar, 
 
 I found it in his closet, 'tis his will: 
 
 Let but tlie commons hear this testament, 
 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,} 
 
 And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
 
 And diji their napkins in his sacred blood; 
 
 Yea, beg a hair of him lor memory. 
 
 And, dying, mention it withiji their wills, 
 
 Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
 
 LTnto their issue. 
 
 4 Ct/. We'll hoar the will: Read it, Mark Antony. 
 
 at. The will, the will; we will hear Caesars will. 
 
 Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not 
 read it ; 
 It is not meet you k^now how C^sarlov'd you. 
 You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 
 And. being men, hearins: the will of Ca'sar, 
 It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 
 'Tis tcood you know not that you are his heirs; 
 For if you shoidd. O. what would come of it! 
 
 4 Cif. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony; 
 You shall read us the will; Cresar's will. 
 
 A7it. Will you be patient! Will you stay awhile"? 
 I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it. 
 I fear. I WTong the honorable men, 
 Whose daggers havestabb'd Csesar: I do fear it. 
 
 4 at. They were traitors: Honorable men! 
 
 at. The will! the testament ! 
 
 2 at. They were villains, murderers: The will! 
 read the will ! 
 
 .4/?^ You will compel me then to read the wiin 
 Then make a ring about the corpse of C^sar, 
 And let me show you him that made the will. 
 Shall I descend ? And will you give me leave \ 
 
 at. Come down. 
 
 2 at. Descend. [He comes doicnfrom the Pulpit. 
 
 3 at. You shall have leave. 
 
 4 at. A ring; stand round. 
 
 1 at. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body 
 
 2 at. Room for Antony; — most noble Antony. 
 Ant. Nay. press not so upon me; stand far o!"t' 
 at. Stand back! room! bear back! 
 
 Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them 
 now. 
 You all do know this mantle : I remember 
 The first time ever Ca?sar put it on; 
 'Twas on a smnmer's evening in his tent; 
 Tiiat day he overcame the Nervii : — 
 Look! in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through : 
 
682 
 
 JULIUS C^SAK. 
 
 Act III. Scene III. 
 
 See, what a rent the envious Casca made : 
 Through this, the weU-bcloved Brutus stabb'd; 
 And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
 Mark how the blood of Ciesar foUowM it; 
 As rushing out of doors, to be rcsolv'd. 
 If Brutus so unkindly knockM, or no; 
 For Brutus, as you know, was Csesar's angel: 
 Judge, O you gods, how dearly Ceesar lov d him! 
 This wari tlie most unkindest cut of all : 
 For when the noble Ca?sar saw him stab, 
 In^irittitudc, more strong than traitor's arms, 
 Quite vauquishM him: thenburst his miglity heart; 
 And, in his mantle mufflinL^ \]\y his face, 
 Kven at the base of Pomiicy's statua.^ 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Ca;sar fell. 
 O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
 Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 
 Whilst bloody treason tlourish'd over us. 
 O, now you weep; and, I perceive, yon feci 
 The dint^ of pity : these are gracious drops. 
 Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold 
 Our Caesar's vesture wounded 1 Look you here, 
 Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. 
 
 1 Cii. piteous spectacle ! 
 
 2 CU. noble Cssar ! 
 
 3 at. woful day! 
 
 4 Cit. traitors, villains! 
 
 1 Cit. O most bloody sight ! 
 
 2 Cit. V^e will be revenged: revenge; about, 
 — seek,— burn, — fire, — kill, — slay ! — let not a traitor 
 live. 
 
 Atit. Stay, countrymen. 
 
 1 Cit. Peace there :— Hear the noble Antony. 
 
 2 Cit. We'U hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die 
 with him. 
 
 A?it. Good friends, swoet friends, let me not stir 
 you up 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
 They, that have done this deed, are honorable; 
 AVhat private griefs' they have, alas, I know not. 
 That made them do it; they arc wise and honorable. 
 And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
 I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; 
 I am no orator, as Brutus is: 
 But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, 
 Tliat love my I'riend ; and that they know full well, 
 That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
 For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
 Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
 To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; 
 I telJ you that, which you yourselves do know: 
 Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb 
 
 mouths. 
 And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus, 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
 Would ruftle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 In every wound of Ciesar, that should move 
 The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 
 
 at. We'll mutiny. 
 
 1 Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus. 
 
 2 Cif. Away then! come, seek tiie conspirators. 
 Ant. Yet hear me. countrymen, yet hear me speak. 
 at. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony, 
 A/it. Why, friends, you go to do you know not 
 
 what: 
 Wherein hath Caesar thus deservM your loves'! 
 Alas, you know not: — I must tell you then: — 
 You have forgot the will I told you of. 
 
 Cit. Most true; — the will:— let's stay, and hear 
 
 the will. 
 Anf. Here is the will, and under Cresar's seal. 
 To every Roman citizen he gives. 
 To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.^ 
 2 Ci/.' Most noble Ctesar !— we'll revenge his 
 death. 
 
 ■ Statua for statue, is common among the old wi-itprs. 
 * Impression. • Orleyances. s ^'^.ar fifty shilling - 
 
 3 Cit. O royal Csesar! 
 
 Ant. Hear me with patience. 
 
 at. Peace, ho ! 
 
 Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, 
 His private arbors, and new-planted orchards. 
 On this side Tyber: he hath left them you. 
 And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures, 
 To walk abroad and recreate yourselves. 
 Here was a Ciesar: When comes such another'? 
 
 1 Cit. Never, never: — Come, away, away : 
 We'll burn his body in Ihe holy place, 
 
 And wilh the brands fire the traitors' houses. 
 Take up the body. 
 
 2 Cit. Go, fetch tire. 
 
 3 CiJ. Pluck down benches. 
 
 4 at. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizens, with the borty. 
 Ant. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. 
 Take thou what course thou wilt ! — How now^ 
 fellow ] 
 
 ^ Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. 
 
 Ant. Where is he ] 
 
 aerv. He and Lepidus are at Casar's house. 
 
 Ant. And thither will I straight to visit hnn : 
 He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, 
 And in this mood will give us any thing. 
 
 Serv. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius 
 Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. 
 
 Ant. Belike, they had some noticeof the people 
 How I had mov'd them. Bring me to Octavius, 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Street. 
 Enter Cinna, the Puet. 
 Cin. Idreamt lo-night that I did feast with Ccesar, 
 And things unluckily charge my fantasy: 
 1 have no will to wander Ibrth of doors. 
 Yet something leads me forth. 
 
 Enter Citizens. 
 
 1 at. What is your name ] 
 
 2 Cit. Wliither'are you going? 
 
 3 Cit. Wliere do you dwell ? 
 
 4 at. Are you a married man. or a bachelor? 
 
 2 Cit. Answer every man directly. 
 
 1 Cit. Ay, and brieily. 
 4 Cit. Ay, and wisely. 
 
 3 Cit. Ay, and truly, you were best. 
 
 Cin. What is my name? Whither am I going? 
 Wliere do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a 
 bachelor? Then to answer every man directly, 
 and briefly, wisely, and truly. Wisely I say, I am 
 a bachelor. 
 
 2 at. Tliat's as much as to say, they are fools 
 that marry.— You'll bear me a bang tijr that, I fear. 
 Proceed ; directly. 
 
 Cin. Directly, I am going to Cssar's funeral. 
 
 1 Cit. As a iriend, or an enemy ? 
 Cin. As a friend. 
 
 2 at. Tliat matter is answered directly. 
 
 4 Cit. For your dwelling. — briefly. 
 Cin. Briefly. I dwell by the Capitol. 
 4 at. Your nauie, sir, truly. 
 
 Cin. Truly, my name is Cinna. 
 
 1 at. Tear him to pieces, he's a conspirator. 
 Cin. I am Cinna thr poet, I am Cinna the poet. 
 
 4 at. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for 
 his bad verses, 
 Cin. I am not Cinna the conspirator. 
 
 2 Cit. It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck 
 but his name out of his Jieart, and turn Inm going. 
 
 3 Cit. Tear him. tear him. Come, brands, ho! 
 firebrands. To Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all- 
 Some to Decius' house, and some to Casca*s;somo 
 toLigarius'; away; go, 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
Act rV. Scene III. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAK. 
 
 583 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Room in Antony's House. 
 
 Antony, Octavics, mirl Lepidcs, seated at a 
 Table. 
 
 Ant. These many then shall die; their names 
 are prick'd. 
 
 Oct. Your brother too must die; Consent you, 
 Lepidus ] 
 
 Lep. I do consent. 
 
 Oct. Prick" him down, Antony. 
 
 Lep. Upon condition Pulilius shall not live. 
 Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. 
 
 Ant. He shall not live ; look, with a spot I damns 
 him. 
 But, Lepidus, go you to Ciesar's house ; 
 Fetch the will hither, and we will determine 
 How to cut oflsome charge in legacies. 
 
 Lep. What, shall I tiud you here ? 
 
 Oct. Or here, or at 
 
 The Capitol. [Exit Lepidus. 
 
 Ant. This is a slight unmeritable man, 
 Meet to be sent on errands: Is it fit. 
 The (hrce-foltl world divided, he should stand 
 One of the three to share it? 
 
 Oct. So you thought him; 
 
 And took his voice who should lie prick'd to die, 
 In our black sentence and proscription. 
 
 Ant. Ociavius, I have seen more days than jou ; 
 And tiiough we lay these honors on this man. 
 To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads. 
 He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold. 
 To groan and sweat under the business, 
 Either led or driven, as we point the way; 
 And having brought our treasure where we will, 
 Then take we down his load, and turn him otF, 
 Like to the empty ass, to shake his cars, 
 And graze in coiiimons. 
 
 Oct. You may do your will ; 
 
 But he's a tried and valiant soldier. 
 
 Ant. So is my horse, Ociavius; and, for that, 
 I do appoint him store of provender. 
 It is a creature that I teach to fight. 
 To wind, to stop, to run directly on ; 
 His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. 
 'And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so; 
 He must be taught, and Iraiii'd, and bid go forth ; 
 A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds 
 On objects, arts, and imitations ; 
 Which, out of use. and stal'd by other men, 
 Begin his fashion : Do not talk of bim. 
 But as a property. And now, Octavius, 
 Listen great things.— Brutus and Cassius 
 Are levying powers: we must straight make head. 
 Tlierefore, let our alliance be combin'd. 
 Our best friends made, and our best means stretch'd 
 
 out; — 
 And let us presently go sit in council. 
 How covert matters may be best disclos'd. 
 And open perils surest answered. 
 
 Oct. Let us do so ; (or we are at the stake, 
 And bay'd^ about with many enemies; 
 And some, that smile, have in their hearts. I fear. 
 Millions of mischief. \_Excunt. 
 
 SCENE l\.—Btfure Brutus' Tent, in the Camp 
 near Sardis. 
 
 . Drum. Enter BnuTis, LiciLirs, Lrcirs. and Sol- 
 diers : TiTiNiLS and Pisdarls meeting tfiem. 
 Bru. Stand here. 
 
 Luc. Give the word, ho ! and stand. 
 Bru. What now, Lucilius? is Cassius nearl 
 Luc. He is at hand ; and Pindarus is come 
 To do j'ou salutation iVom his master. 
 
 [PiNDAUus gires a Letter to Bruits. 
 Bru. He greets me well. — Your master, Pin- 
 darus, 
 In his own charge, or by ill offices. 
 Hath given nie some worthy cause to wish 
 Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand, 
 I shall be satisfied. 
 Pm. I do not doubt 
 
 ' Set, mark. « Condemn. • Surrounded, baited. 
 
 But that my noble master will appear 
 Such as he is, full of regard and honor. 
 
 Bru. He is not doubled.— A word, Lucilius: 
 How he receiv'd you. let me be resolv'd. 
 
 Luc. With courtesy, and with respect enough; 
 But not with such liiiniliar instances. 
 Nor with such free and friendly conference. 
 As he hath used of old. 
 
 Bru. Thou hast describ'd 
 
 A hot friend cooling: Ever note. Lucilius, 
 When love begins to sicken and decay, 
 It useth an enlorced ceremony. 
 There are no tricks in plain and simple failh: 
 But hollow men, like horses hot at hand. 
 Make gallant show and promise of their mettle : 
 But when they should endure the bloody spur. 
 They fall their crests, and, like deceilful jades. 
 Sink ill the trial. Comes his ariny on ! 
 
 Luc. They mean this night in Sardis to be quar- 
 ter'd ; 
 The greater part, the horse in general. 
 Are come with Cassius. [Marcti witliiti. 
 
 Bru. Hark, he IS arriv'd: — 
 
 March gently on to meet him. 
 
 Enter Cassius and Soldiers. 
 Cas. Stand, ho! 
 
 Bru. Stand, lio ! Speak the word along. 
 ll'it/iin.] Stand. 
 n'it/iin.] Stand. 
 iruiiin.] Stand. 
 Cas. Most noble brother, you have done me 
 
 wrong. 
 Bru. Judge me, you gods ! Wrong I mine ene- 
 iiiii^s ! 
 .\nd, if not so, how should I wrong a brother'; 
 Cas. Brutus, this sober form of yours hides 
 wrongs; 
 
 And when you do them 
 
 Bru. Cassius, be content. 
 
 Speak your grief softly.— I do know you well:— 
 Before the eyes of both our armies here. 
 Which sliouid perceive nothing but love from us, 
 Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away : 
 Then, in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, 
 And I will give you audience. 
 
 Cas. Pindarus, 
 
 Bid our commanders lead their charges oil' 
 A little from this ground. 
 
 Bru. Lucilius, do the like; and let no man 
 Come to ourtent. till we have done our conli'renee. 
 Let Lucius and TItinius guard our door. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lU.— Within the Tent (i/'Brutus. 
 Lucius and Titinius at some distance fniin it. 
 
 Enter Buuirs and Cassius. 
 Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in 
 this: 
 You havecondemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, 
 Kor taking bribes here of the Sardians; 
 Wiiercin my letters, praying on his side. 
 Because I kiiew tlie man, were slighted oH; 
 Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a 
 
 case. 
 Cas. In such a lime as this, it is not meet ' 
 That every nice' ollencc should bear his comment. 
 
 Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 Are much condeniii'd to have an itching palm; 
 To sell and mart your otliccs for gold. 
 To undeservers. 
 
 Cas. I an itching palm 1 
 
 You know that you are Brutus that speak this. 
 Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 
 
 Bru. The nameof Cassius honors this corruption, 
 And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 
 Cas. Chastisement! 
 
 Bru. Remember March, the ides of March re 
 member! 
 Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake \ 
 What villain touch'd his body, that did stab. 
 And not for justice ! What, shall one of us, 
 > Tiining. 
 
584 
 
 JULIUS CiESAK. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
 But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
 Contaminate our tinkers wilh base bribes'? 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honors, 
 j'or so much trash, as may be grasped thus I — 
 I had ratlier be a do^, and bay the moon, 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, bay not me ; 
 
 I'll not endure it; you forget yourself 
 To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I, 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. 
 Bni. Go to ; you're not, Cassius. 
 
 Crt.9. I am. 
 
 Brii. I sajs you are not. 
 
 Cas, Urge me no more, [ shall forget myself; 
 Have mind upon your health, tempt me no lurther. 
 Bru. Away, slight man ! 
 
 Cas. Is't possible] 
 
 Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
 
 Must I give way and room to your rasli choler? 
 Shall I be frighted, when a madman sturcs ? 
 
 Cas. ye gods! yc gods! Must I endure all this? 
 
 Bru. All tliis ! ay, more: Fret, till your proud 
 heart break ; 
 Go show your slaves how choleric you are. 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge"! 
 Must I observe you 7 Must I stand and crouch 
 llnder your testy humor ? By the gods. 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 Though it do split you : for, from this day forth, 
 I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
 When you are waspish. 
 
 Cas. Is it come to this 1 
 
 Bru, You say, you are a better soldier: 
 Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true. 
 And it shall please me well : For mine own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, 
 Brutus: 
 I said, an elder soldier, not a better : 
 Did I say, better ] 
 
 Brji. If you did, I care not. 
 
 Cas. When Cxsar lived, he durst not thus have 
 movM me. 
 
 Bru, Peace, peace, you durst not so have tempted 
 him. 
 
 Cas. I durst not? 
 
 Bru. No. 
 
 Cas. What! durst not tempt him? 
 
 Bru. For your life you durst not. 
 
 Cas, Do not presume too much upon my love, 
 I may do that I shall be sorry tor. 
 
 Bru. You have done that you shouldbe sorrj^for. 
 There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats: 
 For 1 am arm'd so strong in honesty, 
 That they pass by me as the idle wmd, 
 V/hicii iVespect hot. I did send to you 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; — 
 For I can raise no money by vile means : 
 By lieaven, I had ratlier coin my heart. 
 And diop my blood for drachmas, than to ■v^Ting 
 From the hard hands of jjeasants tlieir vile trash 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 To you lor gold to pay my legions. 
 Which you denied me : Was that done Iil:e Cassius ? 
 Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? 
 Wlien Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
 To lock such rascal counters from liis friends. 
 Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
 Dash him to pieces ! 
 
 Cas. I denied you not. 
 
 Bru. You did. 
 
 Cas. I did not : — he was but a fool. 
 
 That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath rived^ 
 
 my heart: 
 A friend should bear his frieud's infirmities. 
 But Brutus makes mine greater than tlicy are. 
 
 Bru. I do not, till you practise tliem on me. 
 
 Cas. You love me not. 
 
 Bru. I do not like your faults. 
 
 Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 
 
 Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do 
 appear 
 As huge as high Olympus. 
 
 Cfw. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, 
 Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
 For Cassius is aweary of tlio world: 
 
 a Split. 
 
 Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother ; 
 
 CheckM like a bondman ; all his'faults observed, 
 
 Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, 
 
 To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
 
 My spirit from mine eyes! — There is my dagger, 
 
 And here my naked breast; within, a heart 
 
 Dearer than Plutus"' mine, richer than gold: 
 
 If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
 
 I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: 
 
 Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for I know, 
 
 Wlien thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him 
 
 better 
 Than ever thou iovMst Cassius. 
 
 Bru. Sheathe your dagger: 
 
 Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; 
 Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. 
 O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
 That carries anger, as the flint bears tire ; 
 Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark. 
 And straight is cold again. 
 
 Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd 
 
 To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
 When grief, and blood ill-temperM. vexeth himl 
 
 Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temperM too. 
 
 Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your 
 hand. 
 
 Bru. And my heart too. 
 
 Cas. Brutus ! 
 
 Bru. What's the matter 1 
 
 Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, 
 When that rash humor, which my mother gave me, 
 Makes me forgetful? 
 
 Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and Iienceforth, 
 
 Wiien you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 Hc''ll tliink your mother chides, and leave you so. 
 
 [Noise unthin. 
 
 Poet. [ Within.'] Let me go in to see the generals: 
 There is some grudge between them, 'tis not meet 
 They be alone. 
 
 Luc. [ Within.] You shall not come to them. 
 
 Poet. [ Within,] Nothing but death shall stay me. 
 Enter Poet. 
 
 Cas. How now? Whafs the matter? . 
 
 Poet. For sliame, you generals : What do you 
 mean ? 
 Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; 
 For I have seen more years, I am sure, than ye. 
 
 Cas. Ha, ha ; how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! 
 
 Bru. Get you hence, sirrah ; saucv tiellow^, hence. 
 
 Cas. Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. 
 
 Bru. ril know his humor, when he knows his 
 time: 
 What should the wars do with these jigging fools'? 
 Compauion,3 hence. 
 
 Cas. Away, away, begone. 
 
 [Exit Poet, 
 Enter Lucilics aiid Titinius. 
 
 Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders 
 Prepare to lodge their companies to-ni^ht. 
 
 Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala 
 with you, 
 Inmiediatcly to us. [Ex. Lucilius and Titinius. 
 
 Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. 
 
 Cfl^s-. I did not think, you could have been so angry 
 
 Bru. Cassius. I am sick of many griefs. 
 
 Cas, Of your philosophy you make no use. 
 If you give place to accidental evils. 
 
 Bru. No man bears sorrow belter: — Portia is 
 dead, 
 
 Cas. Ha! Portia? 
 
 Bru. She is dead. 
 
 Cas. How 'scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you 
 so? — 
 O insupportable and touching loss! — 
 Upon what sickness ? 
 
 Bru. Impatient of my absence; 
 
 And grief, that young Octavius with Jlark Antony 
 Have made themselves so strong; — lor with her 
 
 death 
 That tidings came;— With this she fell distract. 
 And, her attendants absent, swallowed tire. 
 
 Cas. And died so? 
 
 Bru, Kven so. 
 
 Cas. O ye immortal gods! 
 
 Enter Lucius, with Wine and Tapers. 
 
 Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl 
 of wine : — 
 In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. {Brvik^, 
 • Fellow. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 585 
 
 Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:— 
 Fill. Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup ; 
 I caraiot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks. 
 
 Re-enter Titinios, with Messala. 
 Bru. Come in, Titinius :— Welcome, good Mes- 
 sala. — 
 Now sit we close about this taper here, 
 And call in question our necessities. 
 Cos. Portia, art thou gone ! 
 
 Bru. No more, I pray you. — 
 
 Messala, I have here received letters, 
 That young Octavius, and Mark Antony, 
 Comedown upon us witii a mis^hty power. 
 Bending their expedition toward Philippi. 
 Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor. 
 Bru. With what addition 1 
 
 Mes. That by proscription, and biUs of outlawry, 
 Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, 
 Have put to death a hundred senators. 
 
 Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree : 
 Mine speak of seventy senators, that died 
 By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. 
 . C'ns. Cicero one^ 
 
 Mes. Ay, Cicero is dead, 
 
 And by that order of proscription. — 
 Had you your letters from your wife, my lord 7 
 Bru. No, Messala. 
 
 Mes. Nor notliing in your letters writ of her] 
 Bru. Nothing, Messala. 
 
 JVfes. That, methinks, is strange. 
 
 Bru. Why ask you 1 Hear you aught of her in 
 
 yours \ 
 Mes. No, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell ine true. 
 Mes. Then like a Roman bear tlie truth I tell; 
 For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. 
 Bru. Why, farewell, Portia. — We must die, 
 Messala ; 
 With meditating that she must die once, 
 I have the patience to endure it now. 
 Mes. Even so great men great losses should en- 
 dure. 
 Cas. I liave as much of this in art^ as you ; 
 But yet my nature could not bear it so. 
 
 Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think 
 Of marching to Philippi presently ! 
 Cas. I do not thinJi it good. 
 Bru. Your reason"! 
 
 Cas. This it is : 
 
 'Tis better that the enemy seek us : 
 So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, 
 Doing himself ollence ; whilst we, lying still, 
 Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. 
 Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to 
 better. 
 The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, ■ 
 Do stand but in a forced allcction; 
 For they have grudg'd us contribution: 
 The enemy, marching along by them. 
 By them shall make a fuller number up. 
 Come on refresird, new-added, and encouraged ; 
 From which advantage shall we cut him otT, 
 If at Philippi we do ikce him there, 
 These people at our back. 
 
 Cas. Hear me, good brother. 
 
 Bru. Under your pardon. — You must note be- 
 side, 
 That we have tried the utmost of our friends. 
 Our legions are lirinifuU. our cause is ripe : 
 The enemy incrcaseth every day. 
 We, at the height, are ready to decline. 
 There is a tide in the alliiirs of men. 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortime ; 
 ■ Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
 Is bound in shallow 3, and in miseries. 
 On such a full sea are we now afloat; 
 And we must take the current when it serves. 
 Or lose our ventures. 
 
 Cas. Then, with your will. go on: 
 
 We'll on ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. 
 
 Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk. 
 And nature must obey necessity ; 
 VYliich we will niggard witji a little rest. 
 There is no more to say 1 
 
 Cas. No more. Good-night ; 
 
 £arly to-morrow will we rise, and hence. 
 Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Lccius.] Fare- 
 well, goodMessala : — 
 • Theory. 
 
 (^ood-night, Titinius: — Noble, noble Cassius, 
 Good-night, and good repose. 
 
 Cas. my dear brotlier i 
 
 This was an ill beginning of the night: 
 Never come such division 'tween our souls ! 
 Let it not, Brutus. 
 Bru. Every thing is well. 
 
 Cas. Good-night, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Good-night, good brother. 
 
 Tit. Mes. Good-night, lord Brutus. 
 Bru. Farewell, every one. 
 
 [Exeunt Cas., Tit., and Mes. 
 Re-enter Lccirs, with the Gown. 
 Give me the gown. Where is tiiy instrument^ 
 Luc. Here in the tent. 
 
 Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily ! 
 
 Poor knave, I blame tiice not; thou art o'erwatch'd. 
 Call Claudius, and some other of my men; 
 I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. 
 Luc. Varro, and Claudius ! 
 
 Enter Varro and Ci.acdius. 
 T'«r. Calls my lord ? 
 
 Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and sleep ; 
 It may be, I shall raise you by and by 
 On business to my brother Cassius. 
 
 Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch 
 
 your pleasure. 
 Bru. I will not have it so : lie down, good sirs ; 
 It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. 
 Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so ; 
 I put it in the pocket of my gown. 
 
 [Servants lie down. 
 Luc. I was sure your lordship did not give it me. 
 Bru. Bear with me, good boy. I am much Ibr- 
 getful. 
 Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, 
 And touch thy instrument a strain or two ] 
 Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you. 
 Bru. It does, my boy : 
 
 I trouble thee too much, but tliou art willing. 
 Luc. It is my duty, sir. 
 
 Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy miglit ; 
 I know, young bloods look lor a time of rest. 
 Luc. I have slept, my lord, already. 
 Bru. It is well done ; and thou shalt sleep again ; 
 I will not hold thee long: if I do live, 
 I will be good to thee. [Mu.'iic and a So?tg. 
 
 This is a sleepy tune :— murd'rous slumber! 
 Lay'st thou thy leaden mace^ upon my boy, 
 That plays thee music ? — Gentle lijiave, good- 
 night. 
 I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. 
 If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument ; 
 I'll take it from thee, and, good boy. good-uight. 
 Let me see, let me see : — Is not the leaf turn'd 
 
 down, 
 Where I left reading 7 Here it is, I think. 
 
 [He sits down. 
 Enter the Ghost of C^sar. 
 How ill this taper burns !— Ha ! who comes here : 
 1 think it is the weakness of mine eyes. 
 That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
 It comes upon me: — Art thou any thing? 
 Art thou some god. some angel, or some devil. 
 That mak"Bt my blood cold, and my hair to stare 1 
 Speak to me, what thou art. 
 Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. 
 Bru. Why coni'st thou ? 
 
 Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi. 
 Bru. Well; 
 Then I shall see thee again ! 
 Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. 
 
 [Ghost vanishes. 
 Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. — 
 Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest: 
 III sjiirit, I would hold more talk with thee. — 
 Boy ! Lucius!— Varro ! Claudius! Sirs, awake ! — 
 Claudius! 
 Luc. The strings, my lord, are false. 
 Bru. He thinks, he still is at his instrument. — 
 Lucius, awake. 
 Luc. My lord ! 
 Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so 
 
 cry'dst out I 
 Luc. My lord, I do not know that X did cry. 
 Bru. Yes, that thou didst: Didst thou see any 
 thing 1 
 I • Sceptre. 
 
586 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Luc. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Brti. Sleep asain- Lucius.— Sirrah, Claudius! 
 Fellow, thou ! awake. 
 Var. My lord ! 
 Clan. My lord ! 
 
 Bru. Why did you socry out. sirs, in your sleep? 
 Var. Clan. Did we, my lord 1 
 Bru. Ay ; Saw you any thing 1 
 
 Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing. 
 
 Clan. Nor I, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius] 
 Bid him set on his powers betimes before, 
 And we will follow. 
 
 Var. CLau. It shall be done, my lord. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE \.~The Plains of Philippi. 
 Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army, 
 
 Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered: 
 You said the enemy would not come down, 
 But keep the hills and upper regions; 
 It proves not so : their battles are at hand; 
 They mean to warn^ us at Philippi here, 
 Answering before we do demand of them. 
 
 Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know, 
 Wherelbre they do it: they could be content 
 To visit other places; and come down 
 With learfu! bravery, thinkinf^, by this face, 
 To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage ; 
 But 'tis not so. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Prepare yon, generals: 
 
 The enemy comes on in gallant show; 
 Their bloody sign of battle is hung out. 
 And sometliing's to be done immediately. 
 
 Ani. Octiivius, lead your battle sofily on. 
 Upon the lell hand of the even field. 
 
 Oct. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the Jefl, 
 
 Anf. Why do you cross me in this exigent^ 
 
 Oct. 1 do not cross you ; but I will do so. 
 
 {March. 
 
 Drum. Enter Brutus, Casstus, and their Army; 
 LuciLUS, TiTiNius, Messala, and others, 
 
 Bru. They stand, and would have parley* 
 
 Cas. Stand fast,Titinius: We must out and talk. 
 
 Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle ! 
 
 Ant. No, CiEsar, we will answer on the charge. 
 Make forth, the generals would have some words. 
 
 Oct. Stir not until the signal. 
 
 Bru. Words before blows: Is it so, country- 
 men 1 
 
 Oct. Not that we love words better, as you do. 
 
 Bru. Good words are better than bad strokes, 
 Octavius. 
 
 Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good 
 words : 
 Witness the hole you made in Cjesar's heart, 
 Qxy'xwg, Long live ! hail, Caesar! 
 
 C(is. Antony, 
 
 The posture of your blows are yet unknown; 
 But lor your words, they rob the Hyhla bees. 
 And leave them honeyless. 
 
 Ant. Not stingless too. 
 
 Bru. 0, yes, and soundless too; 
 For you have stol'n tfieir buzzing, Antony, 
 And. very wisely, threat before you sting. 
 
 Anf. V'illains, you did not so, when your vile 
 daggers 
 Hack d one another in the sides of Cresar: 
 You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like 
 
 hounds, 
 And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Ciesar's feet, 
 Whilst damned Casea, like a cur, behind, 
 Struck Cresar on the neck. O llattercrs ! 
 
 Cas. Flatterers!— Now, Brutus, thank yourself: 
 This tongue had not olFended so to-day, 
 If Cnssius might have ruled. 
 
 Oct. Come, come, the cause: If arguing make us 
 sweat, 
 The proof of it will turn to redder drops. 
 Look ; 
 
 I draw a sword against conspirators; 
 Wlirn think you t):at the sword goes up again! — 
 Never till C.'Psar*s three and twenty wounds 
 Be well avenged ; or till another Csesar 
 Have added slaugiitcr to the sword of traitors, 
 
 Bru. Cffisar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands. 
 Unless thou bring 'st them witli thee. 
 • Summon. 
 
 Oct. So I hope ; 
 
 I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. 
 
 Bru. 0, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain. 
 Young man, thou couldst not die more ho- 
 norable. 
 
 Cas. A peevish school-boy, worthless of such 
 honor, 
 Join'd with a masker and a reveller. 
 
 ^;//. .Old Cassius still ! 
 
 Oct. Com;, Antony; away. — 
 
 Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth : 
 If you dare tight to-day, come to the held; 
 If not, when you have stomachs. 
 
 [ExetuH OcvTAVius, Antony, and tficir Army. 
 
 Cas. Why now, blow, wind; swell, billow; and 
 swim, bark ! 
 The storm is up, and all is on -the hazard. 
 
 Bru. Ho! 
 Lucilius ; hark, a word with you. 
 
 Luc. My lord. 
 
 [Brutus a7id Lucilius converse apart, 
 
 Cas. Messala, — 
 
 Mcs. What says my general 1 
 
 Cas. Messala, 
 
 This is my birlh-day ; as this very day 
 Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala: 
 Be thou my witness, that, against my will, 
 As Pompey was, am I com])eird to set 
 Upon one battle all our liberties. 
 You know, that I held Epicurus strong, 
 And his opinion: now I change my mind, 
 And partly credit things that do presage. 
 Coming from Sardis, on our former"^ ensign 
 Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd, 
 Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands; 
 Who to Philippi here consorted'^ us ; 
 This morning are they tied away, and gone ; 
 And in their steads, do ravens, crows, and kites, 
 Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us, 
 As we were sickly prey ; their shadows seem 
 A canopy most latal, under which 
 Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. 
 
 Mes. Believe not so. 
 
 Cas. I but believe it partly; 
 
 For I am fresh of spirit, and resolv'd 
 To meet all perils very constantly. 
 
 Bru. Even so, Lucilius. 
 
 Cue. Now, most noble Brutus, 
 
 The gods to-day stand friendly; that we may. 
 Lovers in peace. lead on our days to age ! 
 Hut, since the affairs of men rest still uncertain, 
 Let's reason with the worst that may befall. 
 If we do lose this battle, then is this 
 The very last time we sliall speak together: 
 What are you then determined to do I 
 
 Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy, 
 By wliich I did blame Cato for the death 
 Which he did give himself: — I know not how, 
 But I do find it cowardly and vile. 
 For fear of what might mil, so to prevent 
 The time of life .-—arming myselt with patience, 
 To stay the providence of some high powers 
 That govern us below. 
 
 Cas. Then, if we lose this battle, 
 
 You are contented to be led in triumph 
 Thoroujih the streets of Rome? 
 
 Bru. No. Cassius, no: think not, thou noblo 
 Roman, 
 That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome ; 
 He bears too great a mind. But this same day 
 Must end that work the ides oI'Miircli heguii ; 
 And whether we shall meet iigaiii, I know not. 
 Therelbre our everlasting larewell take: — 
 For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius ! 
 
 1 Foremost. » Acconip.'iiiied. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAE. 
 
 587 
 
 If we do meet again, why we shall smile ; 
 If not, why then this parting was well made. 
 
 Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus ! 
 If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed: 
 If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made. 
 Bru. Why then, lead on. — 0, that a man might 
 know 
 The end of this day's business, ere it come ! 
 But it sulhceth, that the day will end. 
 And then the end is known. — Come, ho ! away ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE U.—The Field of Battle. 
 Alarum. Enter Buutcs and Messala. 
 Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these 
 bills? 
 Unto the legions on the other side: [Loud Alarum. 
 Let them set on at once ; for I perceive 
 But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing. 
 And sudden push gives them the overthrow. 
 Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down. 
 
 {ExeunU 
 SCENE m.~Another Part of the Field. 
 Alarum. Enter Cassius and TiTiNiua. 
 Cas. O, look, Titiniiis, look, the villains fly : 
 Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy : 
 This ensign here of mine was turning back ; 
 I slew the coward, and did take it from him. 
 
 Tit. O Cassius, IJrutus gave the Aord (oo early; 
 Who, having some advantage on Octavius, 
 Took it too eagerly : his soldiers fell to spoil, 
 Whilst we by Antony were all enclos'd. 
 Enter Pisdarcs. 
 Pin. Fly further off", my lord, lly further off; 
 Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord ! 
 Fly, therefore, noble Cassius. lly far olf. 
 
 Cas. This hill is far enough. Look, ]ook,Titinius; 
 Are those my tents, where I perceive the hre ] 
 Tit. They are, my lord. 
 
 Cas. Titinius.if thou lov'st me, 
 
 Mount thou my horse, and Jiidc tiiy spurs in him. 
 Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, 
 And here again ; that 1 may rest assur'd. 
 Whether yond' troops are friend or enemy. 
 Tit' 1 will be here again, even with a thought. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Cas. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; 
 My sight was ever thick ; regard Titinius. 
 And tell me what thou not'st about the field. — 
 
 [Exit- Pl.NDARUS. 
 
 This day I breathed first: time is come round. 
 
 And where I did begin, there I shall end ; 
 
 My lil'e is run his compass. — Sirrah, what news 1 
 
 Pin. [Abitve.] O my lord! 
 
 Cas. What news ? 
 
 Pin. Titinius is 
 Enclosed round about with horsemen, that 
 Make to him on the spur: — yet he spurs on. — 
 Now they are almost on hini ; now, Titinius ! — 
 Now some 'light: — O, iie 'lights too — he's ta'en — 
 and, hark! [Shout. 
 
 They shout for joy. 
 
 Cus. Come down, behold no more. — 
 
 O. coward that I am, to live so long. 
 To see my best lYiend ta'en before my face ! 
 
 Enter Pindahus. 
 Come hither, sirrah : 
 In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; 
 And then I swore thee, saving of thy life. 
 That whatsoever I did bid thee do. 
 Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep tinne 
 
 oath ! 
 Now be a freeman ; and with this good pword. 
 That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. 
 Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the hilts; 
 And, when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now, 
 Guide thou the sword. — Caesar, thou art reveng'd. 
 Even with I lie sword that kill'd thee. [Dies. 
 
 Pin. So I am free, yet would not so have been, 
 Durst I have done my will. Cassius! 
 Far from this country Pindarus shall run. 
 Where never Roman shall take note of him. [Exit. 
 Re-enter Titinius with Messala. 
 
 Mes. It is but change, Titinius ; for Octavius 
 Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, 
 As Cassius' legions are by Antony. 
 
 ■ Directions fur the officers. 
 
 Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. 
 
 Mes. Wiiere did you leave him 1 
 
 Tit. All disconsolate, 
 
 With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. 
 
 Mes. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground'^ 
 
 Tit. He lies not like the living. my heart ! 
 
 Mes. Is not that he ] 
 
 Tit. No, this was he, Messala, 
 
 But Cassius is no more. — O setting sun ! 
 As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night. 
 So in his red blood Cassius' day is set ; 
 The sun of Rome is set ! Our day is gone ; 
 Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are 
 
 done; 
 Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. 
 
 Mts. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed, 
 
 hateful error, melancholy's child ! 
 
 Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 
 The things that are not 1 error, soon conceiv'd, 
 Thou never com'st unto a happy birth. 
 But kill'st the mother that engenderd thee. 
 
 ri/. What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus? 
 
 Mes. Seek him, Titinius : whilst I go to meet 
 Tiie noble Brutus, thrusting this report 
 Into his ears : I may say thrusting it ; 
 For piercing steel, and darts envenomed. 
 Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus, 
 As tidings of this sight. 
 
 Tit. Hie you, Messala, 
 
 And I will seek for Pindarus the while. 
 
 [Exit Messala- 
 Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius I 
 Did 1 not meet thy friends, and did not they 
 Put on my brows this WTcath of victory. 
 And bid me givH thee? Didst thou not hear their 
 
 shouts \ 
 Alas ! thou hast misconstrued every thing. 
 But hold thee, take this garland on'thy brow; 
 Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I 
 Will do his bidding. — Brutus, come apace, 
 And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. — 
 By your leave, gods. — This is a Roman's part: 
 Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart. 
 
 [ Dies. 
 Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Brutus, young 
 
 Cato, Strato, Volumsius, and Lucilius. 
 
 Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? 
 
 Mes. Lo. yonder; and Titinius mourning it. 
 
 Bru. Titinius' face is upward. 
 
 Cato. He is slain, 
 
 Bru. Julius Ca?sar, thou art mighty yet ! 
 Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords 
 In our own proper entrails. [Loiv Alarums, 
 
 Cato. Brave Titinius! 
 
 Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius ! 
 
 Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as these? — 
 The last of all the Romans, fare thee well ! 
 It is imjiossihle that ever Rome 
 Should breed thy fellow. — Friends, I owe more 
 
 tears 
 To this dead man, than you shall see me pay. — 
 
 1 shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. — 
 Come, therefore, and to Thassos send his body; 
 His funeral shall not be in our camp, 
 
 Lest it discomfort us.— Lucilius, come ; 
 And come, young Cato, let us to the field. — 
 Labeo, and Flavins, set our battles on : — 
 'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night 
 We shall try fortune in a second tight. [Exeunt* 
 
 SCENE IV.— Another Part of the Field. 
 Alarum. Enter, fghtingy Soldiers nf both Armies; 
 t/ien Brutus, Cato, Lucilius, and others. 
 Br«. Yet, countrymen, O yet hold up your heads! 
 Cato. What bastard doth not I Who will go with 
 me ? 
 I will proclaim my name about the field: 
 I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho ! 
 A foe lo tyrants, and my country's Mend ; 
 I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho I 
 
 [Charges the Enemy. 
 Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus. I ; 
 Brutus, my country\s Inend; know nie for Brutus, 
 [Exit, charging the Enemy. Cato is over' 
 powered, and falls. 
 Luc. O young and noble Cato, art thou down? 
 Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius; 
 And may'st be honor'd, being Cato's son. 
 1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest. 
 
588 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act V. Scene V. 
 
 Luc. Only I yield to die, 
 
 There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight : 
 
 [Off'ering Money. 
 Kill Brutus, and be honor'd in his death. 
 
 1 Sold. We must not. — A noble prisoner ! 
 
 2 Sold. Room, ho ! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 
 I Sold. I'll tell the news. — Here comes the ge- 
 neral : 
 
 Enter Antony. 
 Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. 
 
 Ani. Where is he ] 
 
 Luc. Sale, Antony; Brutus is safe enough; 
 I dare assure thee, that no enemy 
 Shall ever take alive tiie noble Brutus: 
 Tile gods defend him from so great a shame ! 
 When you do find him, or alive, or dead. 
 He will be Ibund Uke Brutus, like himself. 
 
 vin^Thisisnot Brutus, friend; but, I assure you, 
 A prize no less in worth : keep this man safe, 
 Give him all liindness; I had rather have 
 Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, 
 And see whe'r Brutus be alive, or dead ; 
 And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent, 
 How every thing is chanced. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \.—Anotlier Part of t lie Field. 
 Enter Bectus, Daedanius, Clitls, Strato, and 
 
 VOLUMNIDS. 
 
 Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this 
 rock. 
 
 Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light; but, my lord. 
 He came not back; he is or ta'en, or slain. 
 
 Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word; 
 It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.— 
 
 [ Whispering. 
 
 Cll. What, I, my lord 1 No, not for all the world. 
 
 Bru. Peace, then, no words. 
 
 Cli. I'll rather kill myself. 
 
 Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius ! [ IVhispers him. 
 
 Dar. I do such a deed ! 
 
 Cli. O, Dardanius ! 
 
 Dar. 0, Clitus ! 
 
 Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? 
 
 Dar. To kill him, Clitus : Look, he meditates. 
 
 CU. Now is that noble vessel full of grief. 
 That it runs over even at his eyes. 
 
 Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius: list a word. 
 
 Vol. What says my lord 1 
 
 Bru. Why, this, Volumnius : 
 
 The ghost of Ca?sar hath appear'd to me 
 Two several times by night: at Sardis, once; 
 And, this last night, here in PhUippi' fields. 
 I know my hour is come. 
 
 Vol. Not so, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volunuiius. 
 Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; 
 Our enemies have beat us to the pit : 
 It is more worthy to leap in ourselves. 
 Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, 
 Tliou know'st, that we two went to school together: 
 Even for that our love of old I pray thee, 
 Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst i run on it. 
 
 Vol. That's not an cflice for a friend, my lord. 
 
 [Alarum stilt. 
 
 Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. 
 
 Bru. Karewell to you; — and you;-^and you, 
 Volumnius. — 
 Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep ; 
 Farewell to thee, too, Strato.— Countrymen, 
 My heart doth joy, that yet in all my life, 
 1 lound no man, out he was true to me. 
 I shall have glory by this losing day. 
 Wore than Octavius, and MarkAnlony, 
 By this vile conquest shall attain unto. 
 So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue 
 Hath almost ended his life's history : 
 Night hangs upon mine eyes; mv bones would rest. 
 That have but labor'd to attain this hour. 
 
 [Alarum. Cry within; Fly, fly, fly. 
 
 CZi. Fly, my lord, fly. 
 
 Bru. Hence; I will follow thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Clitcs, Dardaniis, and Volliinics. 
 I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: 
 Thou art a fellow of a good respect ; 
 Thy life hath had some smatch of honor in it: 
 Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face. 
 While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato ! 
 
 Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well, 
 my lord. 
 
 Bru. Farewell, good Strato.— Ca;sar, now be still, 
 I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. 
 
 [He runs oh his Sword, and dies. 
 Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Astony, 
 Messala, Lucilics, and their Army. 
 
 Oct. What man is that? 
 
 Mes. My master's man.— Strato, where is thy 
 master l 
 
 Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Mes- 
 sala ; 
 The conquerors can but make a fire of him; 
 For Brutus only overcame himself, 
 And no man else hath honor by his death. 
 
 Luc. So Brutus should be fo'und.- 1 thank thee, 
 Brutus, 
 That thou hast prov'd Lucilius* saying true. 
 
 Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them.' 
 Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? 
 
 Stra. Ay. if Messala will preitn- me to you. 
 
 Oct. Do so, Messala. 
 
 ■"'fs. How died my master, Strato ? 
 
 S/ra. I held tlie sword, and he did run on it. 
 
 Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee. 
 That did the latest service to my master. 
 
 Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all: 
 All the conspirators, save only he, 
 Did tliat they did in envy of great Cffisar; 
 He only, in a general honest thought, 
 And common good to all, made one of them. 
 His life was gentle, and the elements 
 So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, 
 And say to all the world, T/iw was a yuan: 
 
 Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, 
 With all respect and rites of burial. 
 Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie. 
 Most like a soldier, order'd honorably.— 
 So, call the field to rest : and let's away. 
 To part the glories of this happy day. [Exeunt, 
 * Receive into my service. 9 Kecommend. 
 
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 
 M. Antony, 
 OcTATirs Cesar. 
 M. TEmil. Lepidi- 
 Sextl's Pompeius. 
 domitius e.n'uearbus,' 
 Ventiwus, 
 Euos, 
 
 SCARl-S, 
 
 Dercetas, 
 
 DEMETHIL'S, 
 
 Philo, 
 Mec.enas, 
 Agrippa, 
 Dolabella, 
 
 PROCfLEirS, 
 
 THYREL'S, 
 
 GALLI'S, 
 
 Triumvirs. 
 
 Friends o/' Antony. 
 
 Friends to Cjcsar. 
 
 > Friends of Pompey. 
 
 Menas, 
 
 Menecrates, I 
 
 Varru's, ' 
 
 Taurus, Lieutenant-Generat to Caesar. 
 
 Canidil'S, Lieutenajit-Generol to Antony. 
 
 SiLius, an Officer in Venti Jiiis's Arinij. 
 
 EUPHR0N1U3, an AmbaesaiU/r Jrom Antony to 
 Ca?.sar. 
 
 Alexas, Mahdian, Seleuous, and DioiiEDES, At- 
 tendants on Cleopatra. 
 
 A Sonttuwycr. 
 
 A Clown. 
 
 Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt. 
 
 OCTAViA. Sister to Csisiir,'and Wife to Antony. 
 
 Iifis,'""'^*"'' \ ^tl'^ndants on Cleopatra. 
 
 Officers, Soldiers,Messe7igers,andotlier Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, dispersed ; in several parts of the Roman Empire. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's 
 Palace. 
 Enter Demetrius a7id PniLO. 
 Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's, 
 O'erllows the measure: Those his goodly eyes, 
 That o"er the tiles and musters of tlie war 
 Have glow'd like jilated Mars, now bend, now turn, 
 Tlie ottice and devotion of their view 
 Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart, 
 Whieh in the scuttles of great tights had burst 
 The buckles on his breast, reneges' all temper; 
 And is become the bellows and the fan, 
 To cool a gipsy's lust. Look, where they come ! 
 
 Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, witfi 
 
 their Trains; Eunuchs fanning tier. 
 Take but good note, and you shall see in him 
 The triple pillar of the world transform'd 
 Into a strumpet's Ibol: behold and see. 
 
 Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. 
 
 Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be 
 reckon'd. 
 
 Cko. I'll set a bourn- how far to be belov'd. 
 
 Ant. Then must thou needs tind out new heaven, 
 new earth. 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 
 Alt. News, my good lord, from Rome. 
 
 ■Ant. Grates^me:— The sum! 
 
 Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony. 
 Fulvia, perchance, is angry : Or, who knows 
 If the scarce-bearded CiEsar have not sent 
 His powerful mandate to you, Do thli. or this ; 
 Take in' that kingdom, and enfranchise i/iat ; 
 Perforni't, or else we damn thee. 
 
 ■Ant. How, my love ! 
 
 Cleo. Perchance,— nay, and most like. 
 You must not stay here longer, your dismission 
 
 ' licnouDces. 5 Bound or limit. 
 
 > Offeuds. 4 guV4ue, comjuer. 
 
 Is come from Ca!sar; therefore hear it, Antony. — 
 Where's Kulvia's process i^ Cajsar's, I would say? 
 
 —Both 1— 
 Call in the messengers. — As I am Egypt's queen. 
 Thou blushest, Antony; and Ihal blood of thine 
 Is Cajsar's liomager : else so thy clieek pays shame, 
 Wlien shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds.— The mes- 
 sengers. 
 
 Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide 
 arch 
 Of the ranged empire fall ! Here is my space ; 
 Kingdoms are clay : our dungy earth alike 
 Feeds beasts as man : the nobleness of life 
 Is, to do thus; when such a mutual pair 
 
 [Embracing, 
 And such a twain can do't. in which, 1 bind, 
 On pain of punishment, tlic world to weet,>> 
 We stand up peerless. 
 
 Cleo. Excellent falsehood ! 
 
 Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her ! — 
 I'll seem the tool I am not: Antony 
 Will be himself. 
 
 Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. — 
 
 Now, for the love of Love, and her soil hours. 
 Let's not confound' the time with conference 
 
 harsh : 
 There's not a minute of out lives should stretch 
 Withoutsome pleasure now ; Whatsport to-niglit! 
 
 Cleo. Hear the ambassadors. 
 
 Ant. Fye, wrangling queen ! 
 
 Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, 
 To weep; whose every passion fully strives 
 To make itseli; in thee, lair and adinir'd '. 
 No messenger; but thine and all alone, 
 To-night,we'll wander through the streets, and note 
 The qualities of people. Come, my queen; 
 Last night you did desire it : — Speak not to us. 
 
 [Exeunt Ant. and Ci.eop. with their Train. 
 
 Dcm. Is CiEsar with Autonius priz'd so slight? 
 
 * ifummons. • Know. ' Cousume. 
 
 589 
 
590 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act L 
 
 Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, 
 He comes too short of that great property 
 Which still should go with Antony. 
 
 De/u. I am full sorry, 
 
 That he approves the common liar,^ who 
 Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope 
 Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Another Room. 
 
 Enter CnARmAN, Ir.AS, Alexas, ojid a Soothsayer. 
 
 Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing 
 Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the 
 soothsayer thatyou praised so to the queen? O, that 
 I Knew this husband, which, you say, must change 
 his horns with garlands! 
 
 Alex. Soothsayer, 
 
 South. Your will \ 
 
 Char, Is this the man 1— Is't you, sir, that know 
 things] 
 
 Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy, 
 A little I can read. 
 
 Alex. Show him your hand. 
 
 Enter En'obarbus. 
 
 Enn. Bring in the banquet quickly: wine enough, 
 Cleopatra's health to drink. 
 
 Char. Good sir, give me good fortune. 
 
 Sooth. I make not, but foresee. 
 
 Char. Pray, then, foresee me one. 
 
 South. You shall be yet far fairer than you are. 
 
 Char. He means, in flesh. 
 
 Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old. 
 
 Char. Wrinkles tbrbid ! 
 
 Alex. Vex not his prescience ; be attentive. 
 
 Char. Hush! 
 
 Sooth. You shall he more beloving. than beloved. 
 
 Char. 1 had rather heat my liver with drinking. 
 
 Alex. Nay, hear him. 
 
 Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let 
 me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and 
 widow them all; lot me have a child at hl'ty, to 
 whom licrod of Jewry may do Jioniage : lind me 
 to marry me with Octavius Ciesar, and companion 
 me with my mistress. 
 
 South. Youshalloutlive the lady whom you serve. 
 
 Char. O excellent! 1 love long Win better thaa 
 fig-^- 
 
 Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer former 
 fortune 
 Than that which is to approach. 
 
 Char. Then, behke, my children shall have no 
 names :& Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches 
 must I have] 
 
 Sdoth. If every of your wishes had a womb, 
 And fertile every wish, a million. 
 
 Char. Out, fool ! I forgive thee for a witch. 
 
 Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy 
 to your wishes. 
 
 Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. 
 
 Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. 
 
 Eno. Mine, and most of our Ibrlunes, to-night, 
 shall be — drunk to bed. 
 
 Iras. Tliere's a palm presages chastity, if no- 
 thing else. 
 
 C/t«r. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth 
 famine, 
 
 Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot sooth- 
 say. 
 
 Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prog- 
 nostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. — Pr'ythee 
 tell her but a worky-day fortune. 
 
 Suoth. Your Ibrtunes are alike. 
 
 Ira.s: But how] but how ] give me particulars. 
 
 Sooth. 1 have said. 
 
 Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? 
 
 Cfiar. Well, if you were but an inch of iortune 
 better than 1, where would you choose it? 
 
 I}-as. Not in my husband's nose. 
 
 Char. Ouj worsor thoughts heavens mend ! Alex- 
 as, — come, his fortune, his fortune.— (), let him 
 marry a woman that cannot go, sweet lsis,i I be- 
 seech tliee ! And let her die too, and give him a 
 worse ! and let worse foUow worse, till the worst of 
 all tbilow him laughing to his grave, titty-fold a 
 cv;ckold ! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though 
 thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, 
 1 beseech thee ! 
 
 t Fame. > Shall be bftsUirds, 
 
 ' An Egj'ptiftn goddess. 
 
 Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of 
 the people ! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a 
 handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sor- 
 row to behold a foul knave uncuckoided : There- 
 fore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him ac- 
 cordingly I 
 
 Char. Amen. 
 
 Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make 
 meacuckold, they would make themselves whores, 
 but they'd do't. 
 
 Eno. Hush! here comes Antony. 
 
 Char. Not he, the queen. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, 
 
 Cleo. Saw you my lord ? 
 
 Eno. No, lady. 
 
 Cleo. Was he not here 1 
 
 Char. No, madam. 
 
 Cleo. He was disposed to mirth; but on a sudden 
 A Roman thought hath struck him. — Enobarbus. 
 
 Eno. Madam, 
 
 Cleo. Seek him and bring him hither. Where's 
 Alexas? 
 
 Alex. Here, madam, at your service. — My lord 
 approaches. 
 
 Enter Antony, icilh a Messenger and Attendants. 
 
 Cleo. We will not look upon him : Go with us. 
 [Exeunt Cleopatra, Esobarbu.?, Alexas, Iras, 
 Charmian, Soothsayer and Attendants. 
 
 Mess. Fulvia thy wife tirst came Into the field. 
 
 Ant. Against my brother Lucius ? 
 
 Mess. Ay: 
 But soon that war had end, and the time's state 
 Made friends of them, jointing their ibrce 'gainst 
 
 Cresar ; 
 Whose better issue in the war, from Italj', 
 Upon the tirst encounter, dravc them. 
 
 Ant. Well, 
 
 What worst ? 
 
 Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller. 
 
 Ant. When it concerns the fool, or coward. — On : 
 Things that are past, arc done with me. — ''Tis thus : 
 Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, 
 I hear him as he flatter'd. 
 
 Aless. Labienus 
 
 (This is stiff news) halh, with Jiis Parthian force, 
 Extended- Asia from Euphrates; 
 His conquering banner shook, from SjTla 
 To Lydia, and to Ionia; 
 Whilst 
 
 Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say — 
 
 Mess. O, ray lord. 
 
 Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general 
 tongue ; 
 Name Cleopatra as she^s call'd in Rome ; 
 Rail thou in P'ulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults 
 With such full license, as both truth and malice 
 Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth 
 
 weeds, 
 When our quick winds^ lie still; and our ills told us, 
 Is as our earing.^ Fare thee well a while. 
 
 Mess. At your noble pleasure. [Exit* 
 
 Ant. From Sicyon how the news ? Speak there. 
 
 1 Ait. The man from Sicyon, — Is there such a 
 
 one. 
 
 2 Att. He stays upon your will. 
 
 Ant. Let him appear, — 
 
 These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 Or lose myself in dotage.— What are you ? 
 
 2 i\/e55.'Fulvia thy wife is dead. 
 
 Ant. Where died she? 
 
 2 Mess. In Sicyon: 
 Her Icnglhof sickness, with what else more serious 
 Importelh thee to know, this bears. [Give^ a tetter. 
 
 Ant. Forbear me.— 
 
 [Exit rvlessenger 
 There's a great spirit gone ! Thus did I desire li ; 
 What our "contempts do otten hurl from us, 
 We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, 
 By revolution lowering, does become 
 The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone; 
 The hand could pluck her back, that sIiovM her on. 
 I must from this enchanting queen break oil; 
 Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, 
 My idleness doth hatch. — How now! Enobarbus! 
 
 5 Overrun. » In some editions, riiuds. 
 
 < Tilliug, ploughing: prepare us to produco good seed. 
 
iSCENE III. 
 
 ANTOXY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 59J 
 
 Enter Exobarbus. 
 
 Eno. What's your pleasure, sir? 
 
 Ant. I must with haste from hence. 
 
 Eno. Why then, we kill all our women : We see 
 how mortal an unkindness is to them ; if they suf- 
 fer our dei)arture, death's the word. 
 
 Ant. I must be g:one. 
 
 Eno. Under compelling: occasion, let w-oman die: 
 It were pitvto cast them away for nothing;; though, 
 between them and a great cause, they should bo 
 esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catehiuj;; but the 
 least noise of this, dies instantly: I have seen her 
 die twenty times upon lar poorer moment: I do 
 think, there is mettle in death, whicii commits 
 some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity 
 in dying. 
 
 Ant. She is cunning past man'^s thought. 
 
 Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of 
 notiiing but the finest part of pure love; We can- 
 not cjiil her wmds and waters, sighs and tears ; they 
 are greater stjrms and tempests than almanacs caii 
 report : this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she 
 makes a shower of rain as well as Jove. 
 
 Ant. 'Would I had never seen her! 
 
 Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonder- 
 ful piece of work ; which not to have been blessed 
 witlial, would have discredited your travel. 
 
 Ant. Fulvia is dead. 
 
 Eno. Sir ! 
 
 Ant. Fulvia is dead. 
 
 Eno. Fulvia! 
 
 Ant. Head. 
 
 Eno. Why, sir. give the gods a thankful sacrifice. 
 Wiien It jileaseth their deities to take the wife of a 
 man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the 
 earth; comforting tJicrein, tliat when old robes are 
 worn out, there are members to make new. If 
 there were no more women but Fulvia, then had 
 you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented : this 
 pief is crowiied with consolation; your old smock 
 brings forth a new petticoat :— and indeed tlie tears 
 live m an onion, that should water tiiis sorrow. 
 
 Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, 
 Cannot endure my absence. 
 
 Eno. And the business you have broached here, 
 cannot be without you; especially that of Cleo- 
 patra's, which wholly depends on your abode. 
 
 Ant. No more light answers. Let our olVicers 
 Have notice what we purpose. I shall break 
 The cause of our expedience^ to the queen. 
 And get her love"^ to part. For not alone 
 Tiie death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, 
 Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too, 
 Of many our contriving friends in Rome 
 Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius 
 Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands 
 The empire of the sea : our slippery people 
 (\Vhosc love is never linkM to the deserver, 
 Till his deserts are past) be^in to throw 
 Pompey the great, and all his dignities. 
 Upon his son ; who, higli in name and power, 
 Higher than both in blood and life, stiinds up 
 For the main soldier: whose ipialiiy, p)ing on, 
 Thesideso' the world maydanger.IVIucn is bi-eeding. 
 Which. like the courser's hair, liath yet but life. 
 And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, 
 To sucli whose place is under us, requires 
 Our quick remove from hence. 
 
 Eno. 1 shall do't. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. 
 
 Clco. Where is he 1 
 
 Char. I did not see him since. 
 
 Cleo. Sec where he is, who's with him, what he 
 does : — 
 I did not send you:^— If j-ou find him sad, 
 Say, I am dancing; if in mirtli, report 
 That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return. 
 
 [Exit Alexas. 
 
 Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him 
 dearly. 
 You do not hold the method to enforce 
 The like from him. 
 
 Cleo. Wliat should I do, I do not ? 
 
 Char. In each tiling give Iiim way, cross him 
 in nothing. 
 
 Cleo. Tiiou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him. 
 ■ Expeditinn. e Leave. 
 
 ' Look as if I did not send you. 
 
 Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; 
 In time we hate that which we often fear. 
 
 Enter Antony, 
 But here comes Antony. 
 
 Clco. I am sick, and sullen. 
 
 A nt. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose. 
 
 Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall; 
 It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature 
 Will not sustain it. 
 
 Ant. Now, my dearest queen, — 
 
 Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. 
 
 Ant. What's the matter'! 
 
 Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some 
 good news. 
 What says the married womanl — You may go; 
 'Would, she had never given you leave to come! 
 Let her not say, 'tis I that keep you here, 
 I have no power upon you: hers you are. 
 
 Ant. The gods best know, — ■ 
 
 Cleo. O, never was there queen 
 
 So mightily betray'd 1 Yet, at the tirst, 
 I saw the treasons planted. 
 
 A7\t. Cleopatra, — 
 
 Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and 
 true, 
 Thou'ch you in swearing shake the throned gods, 
 WIio have been false to l-'ulvia J Riotous madness, 
 To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, 
 Wiiich break themselves in swearing ! 
 
 Ani. Most sweet queen,— 
 
 Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no color for your going, 
 But bid farewell, and go : when you sued staying, 
 Then was the time for words: No going then;— 
 Eternity was in our lips and eyes; 
 Bliss in our brows' bent ;5 none our parts so poor. 
 But was a race^ of heaven : They are so still. 
 Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world. 
 Art turn'd the greatest liar. 
 
 Ant. How now, lady f 
 
 Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou shouldst 
 know, 
 ■ There were a heart in Egypt. 
 
 Ant. ^ Hear me, queen: 
 
 The strong necessity of time commands 
 Our ser\'ices awtiile ; but my lull heart 
 Remains in use with you. bur Italy 
 Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius 
 Makes his approaches to tlie port' of Rome : 
 Equality of two domestic powers 
 Breeds scrupulous faction : The hated, grown to 
 
 strength. 
 Are newly grown to love : the condemn'd Pompey, 
 Rich in his lather's honor, creeps apace 
 Into the hearts of such as have not thrived 
 Upon the present slate, whose numbers threaten; 
 And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge 
 By any desperate change : My more particular. 
 And that which most with you should sale my 
 
 going, 
 Is Fulvia's death. 
 
 Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me 
 freedom. 
 It does from childishness:— Can Fulvia die 1 
 
 Ant. She's dead, my queen: 
 Look h^re, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read 
 The garboils she awaked ;- at the last, best : 
 See, when, and where she died. 
 
 Cle^. O most false love \ 
 
 Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill 
 With sorrowful water f Now I see. I see, 
 In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be. 
 
 Ani. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know 
 The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, 
 As you shall give the advice : Now, by the fire 
 That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence, 
 Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war, 
 As thou affect'st. 
 
 Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come ;— 
 
 But let it be. — I am quickly ill, and well : 
 So Antony loves. 
 
 Ant. My precious queen, forbear; 
 
 And give true evidence to his love, which stands 
 An honorable trial. 
 
 Cleo. So Fulvia told me. 
 
 I pr'ythee turn aside, and weep for her ; 
 Then hid adieu to me, and say, the tears 
 Belong to Egypt ■? Good now, play one scene 
 • The arch of our eye-brows. 9 Smack or flavor 
 
 ^ Gate. ' The commotion she occasioned, 
 
 a To me, the queen of rgvpt. 
 
592 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATEA. 
 
 Act I. Scene V. 
 
 Of excellent dissembling ; and let it look 
 Like perfect honor. 
 
 Ant. You'll heat my blood J no more. 
 
 Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. 
 
 Ant. Now by my sword, 
 
 Cleo. And target.— Still he mends; 
 
 But this is not the best: Look, pr'y thee, Charmian, 
 How this Herculean Roman does become 
 The carriage of his cliafe.-" 
 
 Artt. I'll leave you, lady. 
 
 Clen. Courteous lord, one \vord. 
 .Sir, you and I must part,— but that's not it: 
 Sir, yuu and I have lov'd, — but there'.s not it; 
 Tliiii you know well: Something it is I would, — 
 O, my oblivion^ is a very Antony, 
 And I am all forgotten. 
 
 Ant. But that your royalty 
 
 Holds idleness your subject, I should take you 
 For itlleness itself. 
 
 Cteo. 'Tis sweating labor, 
 
 To bear such idleness so near the heart 
 As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; 
 Since my becomings kill me, when they do not 
 Eye well to you : Your honor calls you hence ; 
 Theri^liire be deaf to my unpitied folly, 
 And all the gods go with you ! upon your sword 
 Sit laurel'd victory ! and smooth success 
 Be .strew'd belbre your tect ! 
 
 Ant. Let us go. Come; 
 
 Our separation so abides, and flies. 
 That you, residing here, go'st yet with me. 
 And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. 
 Away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Rome. An Apartment in Caesar's 
 
 House. 
 Enter Ootatius C.tSAn, Lepidcs, and Attend- 
 ants. 
 
 Cms. You may see, Lcpidus, and henceforth know, 
 It is not Ca-sar's natural vice to liate 
 One great competitor: From Alexandria 
 This is the news : He fishes, drinks, and wastes 
 The lamps of night in revel : is not more manlike 
 Than Cleopatra; nor the queen Ptolemy 
 More womanly than ho: hardly gave audience, or 
 Vouchsafed to thiidc he had partners: You shall 
 
 fuid there 
 A man, that is the abstract of all faults 
 That all men follow. 
 
 Lep. I must not think, there are 
 
 Evils enough to darken all his goodness : 
 His faults, m him, seem as the spots of heaven, 
 More Hery by night's blaclviiess; hereditary. 
 Rather tlian purciias'd;^ what he cannot change, 
 Than what he chooses. 
 
 Cees. You are too indulgent : Let us grant, it is not 
 Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy ; 
 To give a kingdom lor a mirth; to sit 
 And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; 
 To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet 
 With knaves thatsuiellof sweat: say,tlus becomes 
 
 him, 
 (As bis composure must be rare indeed, 
 Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must 
 
 Antony 
 No way excuse his soils, when we do bear 
 So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd 
 His vacancy with his voluptuousness, 
 Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, 
 Call on him' for't: but, to confound' such time. 
 Thai drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud 
 As his own stale, and ours,— 'tis lo be chid 
 As we rate boys; wlio beingmature in knowledge. 
 Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, 
 And so rebel to judgment. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Lep. Here's more news. 
 
 Mess. Thy biddings have been done ; and every 
 hour, 
 Most noble Crosar, shall thou have report 
 How 'lis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; 
 And it appears, be is beluv'd of those 
 Thai only have fear'd Caesar: to the ports 
 The discontents!' re|)air, and men's reports 
 (iivc him much wrong'd. 
 
 C:i's. I sliould have known no less: — 
 
 It hath been laughl us from the primal slate, 
 
 • HilJIt'. t oblivious memory. 
 
 • I'rot-ui'ed by liis own fault. ' \'isit bim. 
 
 • Cousume. > DiscouttnU'd. 
 
 That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were; 
 And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth 
 
 love. 
 Comes dcar'd, by being lack'd.i This common body, 
 Like a vagabond Ibig upon the stream. 
 Goes lo, and back, lackeying the varying tide, 
 To rot itself with molion. 
 
 RIess. Cffisar, I bring thee word, 
 
 Menecrates and Mcnas, famous pirates, 
 Make the sea serve them; which they earand wound 
 With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads 
 They make in Italy ; the borders maritime 
 Lack-blood^ to think on't, and Hush youth revolt: 
 No vessel can peep forth, but 'lis as soon 
 Taken as seen ; for Pompey's name strikes more, 
 Than could his war resisted. 
 
 Cass. Antony, 
 
 Leave thy lascivious wassels.' Whcii Ihou once 
 Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st 
 Hirlius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel 
 Did famine follow; whom thou foiight'st against, 
 Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
 Than savages could sulfrr: thou didst drink 
 Tlie staled of horses, and the gilded puddle^ 
 Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did 
 
 deign 
 The roughest berry on the rudest hedge ; 
 Yea, like the slag, when snow the pasture sheets, 
 The barks of trees thou browsed'st ; on the Alps 
 It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh. 
 Which some did die lo look on : And all this 
 (11 wounds thine honor, that I speak it now) 
 Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 
 So much as lank'd not. 
 
 Lep. It is pity of him. 
 
 Cxs. Let his shames quickly 
 Drive him to Rome: 'Tis time we twain 
 Did show ourselves i' the held ; and, to that end. 
 Assemble we immediate council: Pompey 
 Thrives in our idleness. 
 
 Lep. To-morrow, Cssar, 
 
 I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly 
 Both what by sea and land I can be able, 
 To 'front this present time. 
 
 Cas. Till which encounter, 
 
 It IS my business too. Farewell. 
 
 Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know 
 meantime 
 Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir. 
 To let me be partaker. 
 
 Cses. Doubt not, sir : 
 
 I knew it for my bond.6 [Exeu?it. 
 
 SCENE v.— Alexandria. A Room in ttie Palace. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and 
 
 Maedian. 
 
 Cleo. Charmian,— 
 
 Ctiar. Madam. 
 
 Clcu. Ha, ha !— 
 Give me to drink mandragora.*' 
 
 Cliar. Why, madam ! 
 
 tVco. That I might sleep out this great gap of 
 time. 
 My Antony is away. 
 
 Cluir. You think of him 
 
 Too much. 
 
 Cleo. O, treason ! 
 
 Ctior. Madam, I trust, not so. 
 
 Cleo. Thou, eunuch! Mardian ! 
 
 Mar. What's your highness' pleasure 1 
 
 Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no 
 pleasure 
 In aught an eunuch has: 'Tis well for thee. 
 That, being unseininar'd,8 thy freer thoughts 
 May not fly Ibrlli of Egypt. Hast thou altt'ctions'! 
 
 Mar. Yes, gracious madam. 
 
 Cleo. Indeed? 
 
 Mar. Not in deed, madam ; for 1 can do nothing 
 But what in deed is honest lo be done: 
 Yet have I (ierce alieclions, and think. 
 What Venus did with Mars. 
 
 Cleo. Charmian, 
 
 Where think st thou he is now! Stands he, or 
 
 sits he '! 
 Or does he walk ? or is he on his horse?— 
 O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony ! 
 
 t KndeJU-ed by heiiij; inisst'd. ^Turii pule. 
 
 3 Fi!:i8ting8 : in the old copy it is vaissaiks. i. e. v-issals. 
 • Urine, '.flagnjiut, slimy water. « My bouuden duty. 
 ' .i sleepy potiuu. • Uumanntd. 
 
Act II. Scene II. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 503 
 
 Do bravely, horse ! for wot'st thou whom thou 
 
 mov'st 1 
 The demi- Atlas of this earth, the arm 
 And burgonet'J of men.— He's speaking now. 
 Or murmuring, Whereas my xerpeni qt old Nile? 
 For so he calls mc: Now 1 feed myself 
 With most delicious poison :— Think on me. 
 That am with Pha-lms' amorous pinches black. 
 And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Csesar, 
 When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
 A morsel lor a monarch : and great Pompey 
 Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; 
 There would be anchor his aspect, and die 
 With lookijig on his life. 
 
 Enter Alexas. 
 
 Alex. Sovereign of E?ypt, hail ! 
 
 Cleo. H(W much unlike art thou Mark Antony ! 
 Vet coming Ironi him, that great medicine hath 
 With his tinet gilded thee.— 
 How goes it with my brave Mark Antony 1 
 
 Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen. 
 He kiss'd,— the last of many doubled kisses,— 
 This orient pearl ; — His speech sticks in my heart. 
 
 Cleo. Wine ear must pluck it thence. 
 
 Alex. Good friend, quoth he, 
 
 Say, The firm Raman to greiit Ef^ijpt sends 
 Tlthi ireosure of an oiister ; at whoKCfout, 
 To mend the pHlii present, 1 will jiitce 
 Her opulent throne with kintnlom^ ; Alt the east. 
 Say thou, shall enll her mi.-itress. So he nodded, 
 And soberly did mount a lerinagant' steed. 
 Who neigh'd so Ingli, that what 1 would have 
 
 spoke 
 Was beastly dumb'd by him. 
 
 Cleo. What, was he sad, or merry 1 
 
 Alex. Like to the time o' the year between the 
 extremes 
 Of hot and cold ; he was nor sad nor merry. 
 
 Clen. O well-divided disposition !— Note him, 
 Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note 
 
 him : 
 He was not sad : for he would .shine on those 
 That make their looks by his : he was not merry ; 
 Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay 
 111 Kgypt with his joy; but between both; 
 
 heavenly mingle'!— Be'st thou sad or merry, 
 The violence of either thee hecomes ; 
 
 So does it no man else.— Met'st thou my posts'! 
 
 Ale.r. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers: 
 Why do you send so tliick i 
 
 cleo. Who's born that day 
 
 When I forget to send to Antony, 
 Shall die a beggar.— Ink and paper, Charmian.— 
 Welcome, my good Alexas.— Did I, Charmian, 
 Ever love Casar so ? 
 
 Char. that brave Ca;sar ! 
 
 Cleo. Be choked with such another emphasis ! 
 Say, the brave Antony. 
 
 (fiar. The valiant Cffsar! 
 
 Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, 
 H' thou w"ilh C<esar paragon again 
 My man of men. 
 
 Char. By your most gracious pardon, 
 
 1 sing but after you. 
 
 Cleo. My salad days ; 
 
 When I was green in judgment :— Cold in blood. 
 To say, as I said then !— But, come, away: 
 (Jet me ink and paper: be shall have c\ery day 
 A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— Messina. A Room in Pompey's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Pompey, Meneorates, and Mesas. 
 
 Pom. \( the great gods be just, they shall assist 
 The deeds of justest men. 
 
 Me'ne. Know, worthy Pompey, 
 
 That what they do delay, they not deny. 
 
 Fum. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, 
 decays 
 The thing we sue for. 
 
 Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves, 
 
 Beg oilen our own harms, which tlie wise powers 
 Deny us for our good ; so find we profit. 
 By losing of our prayers. 
 
 Pont. I shall do well: 
 
 The people love me, and the sea is mine; 
 My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope 
 Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony 
 In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make 
 No wars without doors : Ca-sar gets money, where 
 He loses liearls : Lepidus Hatters both. 
 Of both is llailer'd ; but he neither loves. 
 Nor eitlier cares tor iiim. 
 
 Men. CiEsar and Lepidus 
 
 Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry. 
 
 Pom. Where have j ou this i 'tis false. 
 
 Men. • From Silvius, sir. 
 
 Foni. He dreams; I know, they are in Home 
 together, 
 Looking for Antony : But all charms of love, 
 Salt Cleopatra, soften Ihy waned- lip! 
 Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both! 
 Tie up the libertine in a iield of leasts, 
 Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks. 
 Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite; 
 That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honor. 
 Even tilP a Lethe'd dulness.— How now, Varriusi 
 
 Enter Varrtus. 
 
 Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: 
 Mark Antony is every hour in Rome 
 Expected ; since he went from Egypt, 'tis 
 A sp.ace for further travel. 
 
 Pom. 1 could have given less matter 
 
 A better ear.— Menas, I did not think. 
 
 • A helmet. 
 
 ' Furious. » Declined, feded. 
 
 38 
 
 ■ To. 
 
 This amorous surfeiter would have don'd' his helm^ 
 
 For such a petty war: his soldiership 
 
 Is twice the other twain : But let us rear 
 
 The higlicr our opinion, that our stirring 
 
 Call IJom the lap of Egypt's widow pluck 
 
 The ne'er lust-wearied Antony. 
 
 Men. I cannot hope, 
 
 Ca>sar and Antony shall well greet togeilier : 
 His wile, Ihat's dead, did trespasses to Ca'sar; 
 His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think. 
 Not niov'd by .Antony. 
 
 Pom. I know not, Menas, 
 
 How lesser enmities may give way to greater. 
 Wer't not that we stand up against them all, 
 'Twere jiregnant they should square<> between 
 
 themselves; 
 For they have eiilertained cause enough 
 To draw their swords : but how the tear of us 
 May cement their divisions, and bind up 
 The petty diflijrence, we yet not know. 
 Be it as our gods will liave it! It only stands 
 Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands. 
 Come, Menas. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Rome. ,4 Room in the House of 
 Lepidus. 
 
 Enter Enobarbvs and Lepidus. 
 
 Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed. 
 And shall become you well, to entreat your captain. 
 To soft and gentle speech. 
 
 Eno. I shall entreat him 
 
 To answer like himself: If Ca?sar move him. 
 Let Antony look over Caesar's head. 
 And speak as loud as Mar.s. By Jupiter, 
 Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard, 
 I would not sliav't to-day. 
 
 I,cp. 'Tis not a time 
 
 For private stomaching. 
 
 £)((). Every time 
 
 Serves for the matter that is then born in it. 
 
 Lep. But small to greater matters must give way, 
 
 Eno. Not if the small come first. 
 
 Lep. Your speech is passion : 
 
 But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes 
 The noble Antony. 
 
 * Dodo on; i.«. put on. •Helmet. « Quiirrel. 
 
594 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Enter Antony and VENTiniua. 
 Eno. And yonder, CsEsar. 
 
 Enter Cjesar, Mec;enab, ami Aghippa. 
 Ant. If we compose' well here, to Parlhia: 
 Hark jou, Ventvdius. 
 
 Cbss. I do not know, 
 
 Mecajnas i ask Agrippa. ,, „. _, 
 
 X,fp. ^olllc friends, 
 
 That which conihin'd us was most great, and let not 
 A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, 
 May it be gently heard: When we dehate 
 tlur tiivial dillerence loud, we do commit 
 Murder in healing wounds : Tlien, noble partners, 
 (The rather, for I earnestly beseech,) 
 Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, 
 Nor curstness* grow to the matter. 
 
 yj„t. Tis spoken well ; 
 
 Were we before our armies, and to light, 
 1 should do thus. 
 
 CVrs. Welcome to Rome. 
 Ant. Thank you. 
 
 Cms. Sit. . 
 
 Ant. Sit, sir! 
 
 Cie-i. Nay, 
 
 Then— 
 
 Ant. I learn, you take thingsill, which are not so; 
 Or. being, concern you not. 
 
 Ca;x. I must be laugh d at, 
 
 If, or for nothing, or a little, I 
 Should say myself olftnded ; and with you 
 Chicliy i' the world : more laugh'd at. that I should 
 Once name you derogately, when to sound your 
 
 name 
 It not concern'd me. 
 
 Ant. My being in Egypt, Cajsar, 
 
 What was't to youl 
 
 Cics. No more than my residing here at Rome 
 Might be to you in Egypt: Yet, if you there 
 Did practises on my slate, your being in Egypt 
 Might be my question.' 
 Ant. How intend you, practis d? 
 
 C'cTi. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent. 
 By what did here befall me. Your wife.and brother. 
 Made wars upon me ; and their contestation 
 Was theme for you. you were the word of war. 
 Ant. You do mistake your business ; my brother 
 never 
 Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it; 
 And have my learning from some true reports. 
 That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather 
 Discredit my authority with yours ; 
 And make the wars alike against my stomach. 
 Having alike your cause ! Of tliis, my letters 
 BclLire did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel. 
 As matter whole you have not to make it with, 
 It must not be with this. 
 
 Cie.t. You praise yourself 
 
 By laying defects of judgment to me; but 
 You patch'd up your excuses. 
 
 Ant. Not so, not so; 
 
 I know you could not lack, I am certain on't, 
 Very necessity of this thought, that I, 
 Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, 
 Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars 
 Wliicli 'fronted- mine own peace. As lor my wife, 
 1 would you had her spirit lu such another : 
 Tlie third o' the world is yours; which wilhasnaffle 
 You may pace easy, but not such a wife. 
 
 Enu. 'Would we had all such wives, that the men 
 might go to wars with the women ! 
 
 Ant. So much uncurable, her garboils,' Ca?sar, 
 Made out other impatience, (which not wanted 
 Shrewdness of policy too.) I grieving grant. 
 Did you too much disquiet: tor that, you must 
 But say, 1 could not help it. 
 
 lies. I wrote to you, 
 
 When rioting in Alexandria; you 
 Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts 
 Did gibe my missive^ out of audience. 
 
 Ant. Sir, 
 
 lie lell upon me, ere admitted; then 
 Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want 
 Of what I was i' the morning: but, next day, 
 1 told liim of myself; which was as much 
 As to have ask'd him pardon : Let this fellow 
 
 1 .\gree. ^ Let not ill-humor he added. 
 
 B Use badartsor strat.iuems. » .Sulject of conversation. 
 • Opposed. 3 t'ouimotioDS. * Messenger. 
 
 Be nothing of our strife ; if we contend, 
 Out of our question* wipe him. 
 
 Cws. You have broken 
 
 The article of your oath ; which you shall never 
 Have tongue to charge me with. 
 Lep. Soft, CiEsar. 
 
 Ant. No, Lepidus, let him speak ; 
 The honor's sacied which he talks on now, 
 Supposing that I lack'd it: But on, Caesar; 
 Ttie arlicle of my oath, — 
 C»«. To lend me arms, and aid, when I reijuireil 
 them ; 
 The which i'ou both denied. 
 
 Ant. Neglected, rather; 
 
 And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up 
 From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may, 
 I'll play the penitent to you : but mine honesty 
 Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power 
 Work without it: Truth is, that Fulvia, 
 To have me out of Egypt, made wars here; 
 For which myself, the ignorant motive, do 
 So far ask pardon, as belits mine honor 
 To stoop in such a case, 
 Lep. ■ 'Tis nobly spoken. 
 
 Mec. If it might please you, to enforce no further 
 The griefs^ between ye: to forget them quite, 
 Were to remember that the present need 
 Speaks to atone' you. 
 Lep. Worthily spoke, Mecsenas. 
 
 Enn. Or, if you borrow one another's love tiir 
 the instant, you may, when you hear no more words 
 of Pompey, return it again : youshall have time to 
 wrangle in, when you have nothing else to do. 
 Ant. Thou art a soldier only; speak no more. 
 Enn. That truth should be silent, I had almost 
 forgot. 
 Ant. You wrong this presence, therefore speak 
 
 no more. 
 Eno. Go to, then ; your considerate stone. 
 Cws. 1 do not much dislike the matter, but 
 The manner of his speech: for it cannot be. 
 We shall remain in friendship, our conditions' 
 So dillLuing in their acts. Yet. if I knew 
 W ha tlioop should hold us staunch, from edge to edge 
 O' the world I would pursue it. 
 Agr. Give me leave, Caisar, — 
 
 Cass. Speak, Agrippa. 
 
 Affr. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, 
 Admir'd Octavia : great Mark Antony 
 Is now a widower. 
 
 Ca^s. Say not so, Agrippa; 
 
 If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof 
 Were well deserv'd of rashness. 
 
 Ant. 1 am not married, Csesar; let me hear 
 Agrippa further speak. 
 
 Agr. To hold you in perpetual amity. 
 To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts 
 With an unslipping knot, take Antony 
 Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims 
 No worse a husband than the best of men; 
 Whose virtue, and whose general graces, .speak 
 That which none else can utter. By this marriage. 
 All little iealcuisics, which now seem great. 
 And all gii';il IVars.which now import their dangers. 
 Would Ihc'U be iii>lhillg : truths would be but tales 
 Where now halt tales be truths : her love to both, 
 VVould, each to other, and all loves to both, 
 Draw after her. Pardon what 1 have spoke; 
 For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, 
 By duty ruminated. 
 Ant. ■ Will Cresar speak? 
 
 Cws. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd 
 With what is spoke already. 
 
 .4h/. What power is in Agrippa, 
 
 If 1 would say, Agrippa, be it su. 
 To make this good J 
 
 Cw.i. The power of Ca'sar, and 
 
 His power unto Octavia. 
 
 Ant. May I never 
 
 To this good purpose, that so liiirly shows. 
 Dream of impediment ! — Let me have thy hand: 
 Furl her this act of grace ; and, from this hour. 
 The heart of brothers govern in our loves, 
 And sway our great designs ! 
 
 Ca'.i. There is my hand. 
 
 A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother 
 Did ever love so dearly : Let her live 
 
 • Convers-ition. 
 1 Keconcile. 
 
 6 GrieT-incps. 
 • Dispositions. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 595 
 
 To join our kiiiKcloms and our hearts ; and never 
 Flvottour loves a^ain ! 
 
 Lep. Happily, amen! 
 
 Ant. I did not tliink to draw my sword 'gainst 
 Poinpey ; 
 For he halh laid strange courtesies, and great, 
 Of late upon me: I must thank him only, 
 Lest my remembrance sutler ill report ; 
 At heel of that, defy him. 
 
 Lep. Time calls upon us : 
 
 Of us must Pompcy presently be sought, 
 Or else he seeks out us. 
 
 Ant. And where lies he 1 
 
 Cws. About the Mount Misenum. 
 
 Ant. What's his strength 
 
 By land ? 
 
 Cseii. Great, and increasing: but bj' sea 
 He IS an absolute master. 
 
 Ant. So is the fame. 
 
 'Would, we had spoke together ! Haste we for it : 
 Vet, ere we i^ut ourselves in arms, despatch we 
 The business we have talk'd of. 
 
 Ca".s. With most gladness ; 
 
 And do invite you to my sister's view, 
 Whither straight I will lead you. 
 
 Ant. Let us, Lepidus, 
 
 Wot lack your company. 
 
 Lep. Noble Antony, 
 
 Not sickness should detain me. 
 
 [Fluurusli. E.ieunt Cesar, Antoxt, and 
 
 LEl'lDt'S. 
 
 Mec. Welcome from Egypt, sir. 
 
 Eno. Half the heart of Ca?sar, worthy Mectenas ! 
 — my honorable friend, Agrippa! — 
 
 Ak^. firiod Knobarbus! 
 
 Mcr. We ha\e cause to be glad, that matters are 
 so well digested. You stay'd well by it in Kgypt. 
 
 Eno. Ay, sir; we did sleep day but of counte- 
 nance, and made the night light with drinking. 
 
 Mec. Kight wild boars roasted wliole at a break- 
 fast, and but twelve persons there : Is tins true ] 
 
 Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle : we had 
 much more monstrous matter of feasts, winch wor- 
 thily deserved noting. 
 
 ^'lcc. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be 
 square^ to her. 
 
 Emi. When she first met Mark Antony, she 
 pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus. 
 
 Afi^r. There she appeared indeed ; or my reporter 
 devised well tor her. 
 
 Eno. I will tell you: 
 The barge she sat in. like a burnish'd throne, 
 Burn'd oil the water : the poop was beaten gold ; 
 Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that 
 The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were 
 
 silver; 
 Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 
 The water, which they beat, to follow faster. 
 As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 
 It beggar'd all description: she did lie 
 In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue.) 
 O'er-picturing that Venus, wliere we see. 
 The tiincy out-work nature : on each side her. 
 Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
 With diverse-eolor'd tans, wliose wind did seem 
 To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool. 
 And what they undid, did. 
 
 Agr. O, rare for Antony ! 
 
 Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
 So many mermaids, tender her i' the eyes. 
 And made their bends adornings; at the helm 
 A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackles 
 Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands. 
 That yarely frame' the office. From the barge 
 A strange invisible pi'-rfume hits the sense 
 Of the adjacent wharfl^. The city cast 
 Her people out upon her; and Antony, 
 Knthron d in the market-place, did sit alone, 
 Wluslling to the air ; which, but for vacancy, 
 Had gone lo gaze on Cleopatra too, 
 And made a gap in nature. 
 Agr. Rare Egyptian ! 
 
 Enn. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, 
 Invited her to supper: she replied. 
 It should be better, he became her guest; 
 Which she entreated ; Our courteous Antony, 
 Whom ne'er the word of AVi woman heard speak, 
 Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast ; 
 
 • Suit with her merits. * Iteadily perform. 
 
 And, for his ordinary, pays his heart, 
 For what his eyes eat only. 
 
 Art. Royal wench ! 
 
 She made great Ctesar lay his sword to bed ; 
 He plough'd her, and she cropp'd. 
 
 Eno. I saw her once 
 Hop forty paces through the public street : 
 Antt having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted. 
 That she did make defect, pert«?etion, 
 And, breathless, power breathe forth. 
 
 Mec. Now .\ntony must leave her utterly. 
 
 Eno. Never; he will not. 
 Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
 Her infinite variety: Other women 
 Cloy tirappetites they feed ; butshe makes hungry 
 Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 
 Become themselves in her; tliat the holy priests 
 Bless her, when she is riggisb.-' 
 
 Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty can settle 
 The heart of Antony. Octavia is 
 A blessed lottery to him. 
 
 Ag:r. Let us go.— 
 
 Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest, 
 Whilst you abide here. 
 
 Eno. Humbly, sir, I thank you. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— ^ Room in Cesar's House. 
 
 Enter Cesar, Antony, Octavia between iliem; 
 Attendant-s, und a Soothsayer. 
 
 Attt. The world, and my great ollice, will some- 
 times 
 Divide me from your bosom. 
 
 Octa. All which time 
 
 Before the gods my knee shall bow in prayers 
 To ffiem for you. 
 
 Ant. Good-night, sir. — My Octavia, 
 
 Read not my hlemislies in the world's report: 
 I iiave not kept my s<|uare; but that to come 
 Shall all be done'by the rule. Good-night, dear 
 lady. 
 
 Octa. Good-night, sir. 
 
 Cir.i. Good-night. [Ex. CjESkR and OcTWik. 
 
 Ant. Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in 
 Egypt! 
 
 Sooth. Would I had never come from thence, 
 nor you 
 Thither! 
 
 Ant. If you can, your reason ? 
 
 So(jtfi. I sec't in 
 
 My motion, have it not in my tongue: But yet 
 Hie you again to EgypL 
 
 Aiit. Say to me. 
 
 Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cjesar's, or 
 mine! 
 
 Sooth. Ca-sar's. 
 Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side : 
 Thy da-mon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is 
 Noble, courageous, high, unmatehable. 
 Where Caisar's is not ; but near him, thy angel 
 Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd ; therefore 
 Make space enough between you. 
 
 Ant. Speak this no more. 
 
 Soot/t. To none but thee; no more, but when to 
 thee. 
 If thou dost play with him at any game. 
 Thou art sure to lose; and. of that natural luck. 
 He beats thee 'gainst the odds; thy lustre thickens, 
 When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit 
 Is all afraid to govern thee near him; 
 But, he away, 'tis noble. 
 
 Ant. Get thee gone : 
 
 Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him : 
 
 [Exit Soothsayer. 
 He shall to Parthia, — Be it art, or hap. 
 He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him; 
 And, in our sports, my better cunning faints 
 Under his chance : if "we draw lots, he speeds : 
 His cocks do win the battles still of mine. 
 When it is all to nought; and his quails^ ever 
 Beat mine, inhooji'd' at odds. I will to Egypt : 
 And tiiough I make this marriage for my peace, 
 
 Enter Ventidius. 
 I' the east my pleasure lies:— 0, come, Ventidius, 
 You must to'Parthia; your commission's ready: 
 Fotlow me, and receive it. [Exeunt* 
 
 ^ Wanton. 
 
 5 The .incients used to match quiiils as we m.itch cooks 
 
 * Inclosed. 
 
ANTONY AND CLEOPATKA. 
 
 Act II 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^ Street. 
 Enter Lepidus, MeCjUXas, and Agrippa. 
 
 Lep. Trouble yourselves no I'urtlier: pray you 
 hasten 
 Vour generals after. 
 
 Agr. Sir, Mark Antony 
 
 Will e^cn but Iciss Octavia, and we'll Ibllow. 
 
 Leji. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress, 
 Which will become you both, liirewell. 
 
 Mec. We shall, 
 
 As 1 conceive the journey, be at mount' 
 Belbre you, Lepidus. 
 
 Lep. Your way is shorter, 
 
 My purposes do draw me much about; 
 You'll win two days upon me. 
 
 Mec. Agr. Sir, good success ! 
 
 Lep. Farewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V —Alexandria. A Room in ttie Palace. 
 Enter CLfOPATiu, Charmias, Iras, and Ale.xas. 
 
 Cleo. (iivc me some music; music, moody^ food 
 Of us that Irade in love. 
 
 Attend. The music, ho ! 
 
 Enter Mardian. 
 
 Cleo. Let it alone ; let us to billiards : 
 Come, Charmian. 
 
 Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. 
 
 Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd, 
 As with a woman : — Come, you'll play with me', sir? 
 
 Mar. As well as I can, madam. 
 
 Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it 
 come too sliort. 
 The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now: — 
 Give me mine angle,— We'll to the river: there. 
 My music playing far off, I will betray 
 Tawny-flnn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce 
 Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, 
 I'll think them every one an Antony, 
 And say. Ah ! ha ! you're caught. 
 
 Char. 'Twas merry, when 
 
 You wager'd on your angling; when your" diver 
 Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, wliich he 
 AVith lervency drew up. 
 
 Cleo. That time !— O times !— 
 
 1 laugh'd him c»jt of patience ; and that night 
 1 hiugiril him into ]iatience; and next morn. 
 Ere tlie ninth hour, 1 drunk him to his bed ; 
 Then jiut my tires" and mantles on him, whilst 
 I wore his sword Philijjpan. O ! liom Italy ; 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, 
 That long time have been barren. 
 
 Mess. Madam, madam,— 
 
 Cleo. Antony's dead? — 
 If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress: 
 Hut well and free. 
 
 If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here 
 My bluest veins to kiss ; a hand, that kings 
 Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. 
 
 Mess. I'irst, madam, he's well. 
 
 Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark ; 
 we use 
 To say, the dead arc well; bring it to that, 
 Tlie gold 1 sive I bee, will I melt, and pour 
 Down lliy ill-uttering throat. 
 
 Mf!<s. Good madam, hear me. 
 
 Cleo. Well, go to, I will ; 
 
 But there's no goodness in thy face: If Antony 
 Be free and healthful,— why so tart a lavor" 
 To trumpet such good tidings ] If not well. 
 Thou shouldst come like a fury crown'd with snakes. 
 Not like a formal man.s 
 
 Mess. Will't please you liear me ? 
 
 Cleo. I have a mind to strike tliee, ere thou 
 speak'st : 
 Yet, if thou say, Antony lives, is well. 
 Or friends with Casar, or not cajilive to him, 
 I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail 
 Kich jieai e upon lliee. 
 
 Mess. Madam, lie's well. 
 
 Cleo. Well said. 
 
 Mess. A nd friends with C.Tsar. 
 
 Cleo. Thou'rt an honest man. 
 
 Mess. C.Tsar and he are greater IViends than ever. 
 
 Cleo. Make thee a lortune from me. 
 
 t Mount Misenum. 6 Meltiiichnly, i Head-dress. 
 
 ■ So sour a countennuce. » .\ uian iu his st-Dses. 
 
 Mess. But yet, madam — 
 
 Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does allay 
 The good precedence; fye upon but yet: 
 But yet is as a gaoler to bring Ibrth 
 Some monstrous malelactor. Pr'ylhee, friend, 
 Pour out the pack of matter to mine car. 
 The good and bad together: He's friends with 
 
 Caesar; 
 In state of health, thou say'st ; and, thou say'st, free. 
 
 Mess. Free, madam ! no ; I made no such report: 
 He's bound unto Octavia. 
 
 Cleo. For what good turn ? 
 
 Mess. For the best turn i' the bed. 
 
 Cleo. I am pale, Charmian. 
 
 Mess. Madam, he's married to Octavia. 
 
 Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee! 
 [Strikes hint down. 
 
 Mess. Good madam, patience. 
 
 Cleo. What say you ? — Hence, 
 
 [Strikes him again. 
 Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes 
 Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; 
 
 [She hates hint up and down. 
 Thou Shalt be whipped with wire, and stcw'd in 
 
 brine. 
 Smarting in ling'ring pickle. 
 
 Mess. Gracious madnm, 
 
 I, that do bring the news, made not the match. 
 
 Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee. 
 And make thy fortunes proud : the blow thou hadst 
 Shall make thy peace, lor moving me to rage; 
 And I will boot' thee with what gift beside 
 Thy modesty can beg. 
 
 Mess. He's married, madam. 
 
 Cleo. Rogue, th >u hast liv'd too long. 
 
 [Draws a Dagger. 
 
 Mess. Nay, then I'll run :— 
 
 What mean you, madam? I have made no limit. 
 
 [Exif. 
 
 CAar.Good madam, keep yourself within yourself ; 
 The man is innocent. 
 
 Cleo. Some innocents 'scape not the thunder- 
 bolt.- 
 Melt Egypt into Nile ! and kindly creatures 
 Turn all to serpents I— Call the slave again; 
 Though I am mad, I will not bite him : — Call. 
 
 Char. He is afcard to come. 
 
 Cleo. I will not hurt him :— 
 
 These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 
 A meaner than myself; since I myself 
 Have given myself the cause. — Come hither, sir. 
 
 Re-enter Messenger. 
 Though it be honest, it is never good 
 To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message 
 A host of tongues ; but let ill tidings tell 
 Themselves, when they be felt. 
 
 Mess. I have done my duty. 
 
 Cleo. Is he married ? 
 I cannot hate thee worser than I do. 
 If thou again say. Yes. 
 
 Mess. He is married, madam. 
 
 Cteo. The gods confound thee! dost thou hold 
 there still ? 
 
 Mess. Should I lie, madam ? 
 
 Cleo. O, I would, thou didst; 
 
 So half my Egypt were submerged, and made 
 A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence; 
 Hadst thou Narcissus in thy lace, to me 
 Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? 
 
 Mess. I crave your highness' pardon. 
 
 Cteo. He is married? 
 
 Mess. Take no olTencc, that I would not offend 
 you: 
 To punish me for what you make me do. 
 Seems much unequal: He is married to Octavia. 
 
 Clen. O, that his fault should make a knave of thee. 
 That art not!— What? thou'rt sure oft?— Get thee 
 
 hence : 
 The merchandise whicli thou hast brought from 
 
 licmie 
 Are all too dear for me; lie they upon thy hand. 
 And be undone by 'em ! [Exit Messenger, 
 
 Char. Good your highness, patience. 
 
 CYfo. In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cajsar. 
 
 Char. Many times, madam. 
 
 Cleo. I am paid for't now: 
 
 Lead me from hence, 
 
 1 taint; Iras, Charmian, — 'Tis no matter: — 
 * r.econipense. 
 
Scene VI 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 597 
 
 Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him 
 Report the feature of OcUivia, her years, 
 Her inclination ; let him not leave out 
 The color of Iter hair;— bring me word quickly.— 
 
 [Exit Aluxas. 
 Let him for ever 50 ;— Let him not— Charmian, , 
 Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, 
 T'other way he's a Mars :— Bid you Alexas 
 
 [To Mardiax. 
 Bring me word, how tall she is.— Pity me, Char- 
 mian, 
 But do not speak to me.— Lead me to my chamber. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE \l.—Jfear Misenum. 
 
 Enter Po>n'EY a7id Men'as. at one si<ie, witli Dnim 
 unit Trumpet: at another, C.«sar. LEPiDfS. 
 Antony, Enobarbus, MEC^tNAS, wUli Soldiers 
 7naretiing. 
 
 Pom, Your hostages I have, so have you mine ; 
 And we shall talli bclbre we tight. 
 
 Cics. Most meet, 
 
 Thattirstwccometowords;aiKl therefore nave we 
 Our written purposes belbre us sent ; 
 Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know 
 If 'twill tic up thy discontented sword; 
 And carry back to Sicily much tall-' youth 
 That else must perish here. 
 
 Pom, To you all three, 
 
 The senators alone of this groat world. 
 Chief lactors (or the gods,— I do not know. 
 Wherefore my father should revengers want. 
 Having a son, and li-iends; since Julius Ciesar, 
 Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,^ 
 There saw vou laboring for him. What was it. 
 That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire 1 And what 
 Made the all-honor'J, honest, Roman Brutus, 
 Witli the arm'd rest, courteous of beauteous free- 
 dom, 
 To drench the Capitol; but that they vyould 
 Have one man but a man ] And that is it. 
 Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burden 
 The anger'd ocean loams ; with which I meant 
 To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome 
 Cast on my noble lather. 
 Cies. Take your time. 
 
 Ant. Thou canst not fear' us, Pompey, with thy 
 sails; 
 We'll speak with theeat sea: at land, thouknow'st 
 How much we do o'er-count thee. 
 
 Pom. At land, indeed. 
 
 Thou dost o'cr-coimt me of my father's house : 
 But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself, 
 Remain iu't, as thou niay'st. 
 
 Lep. Be pleas'd to tell us, 
 
 (For this is from the present.^) how you take 
 The oilers we have sent you. 
 
 Cies. There's the point. 
 
 Ant. Which do not be entreated to, but weigh 
 What it is worth embraced. 
 
 Css. And what may follow. 
 
 To try a larger fortune. 
 
 Pnin. You have made me offer 
 
 Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must 
 Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send 
 Measures of wheat to Rome : This 'greed upon. 
 To part with uuhack'd edges, and bear back 
 Our targe'' undinted. 
 
 Cais. Ant. Lep. That's our oiler. 
 
 Pom. Know, then, 
 
 I came before vou here, a man prepar'd 
 To take this otiijr: But Mark Antony 
 Put me to some impatience : — Though I lose 
 The praise of it by telling, you must know, 
 Wlien Caesar and your brothers were at blows, 
 Y'our mother came to Sicily, and did fmd 
 Her welcome friendly. 
 
 Ant. I have heard it, Pompey ; 
 
 And am well studied for a liberal thaidis. 
 Which I do owe you. 
 
 Pojn. Let me have your hand : 
 
 I did not tliink, sir, to have met you here. 
 Ant. The beds i' the cast are soft; and thanivs to 
 A'ou, 
 That cail'd me. timelier than my purpose, hither. 
 For 1 have gain'd by it. 
 
 Ca;s. Since I saw you last, 
 
 There is a change upon you. 
 » Brave- " Uauuted. * Affright. 
 
 • Present subject. ' Taiget, shield. 
 
 Pom. Well, I know not 
 
 What counts" harsh fortune casts upon my face; 
 But in my bosom shall she never come, 
 To make'my heart her vassal. 
 
 Lep. Well met here. 
 
 Pom. 1 hope so, Lcpidus.— Thus we are agreed : 
 I crave, our composition may be written 
 And seal'd between us. 
 
 Cxs. That's the next to do. 
 
 Pom. We'll feast each other, ere we part; and 
 let us 
 Draw lots who shall begin. 
 
 Anf. That will I, Pompey. 
 
 Poni. No, Antony, take the lot ; but, lirst, 
 Or last, your line Egyptian cookery 
 Shall ha\ e the tirmc. 1 have heard, that Julius Cffisar 
 Grew (lit witli feasting there. 
 
 Ant. Y'ou have heard much. 
 
 Pom. I have fair meanings, sir. 
 
 Ant. And fair words to them. 
 
 Pom. Then so much have I heard: 
 .\nd 1 have hoard, Apollodorus carried — 
 
 Eno. No more of that:— He did so. 
 
 Pom. What, 1 pray you 1 
 
 Eno. A certain queen to Cajsar in a mattress. 
 
 Pom. I know thee now : — How far'st thou, 
 soldier ! 
 
 Eno. Well: 
 
 And well am like to do : for, I perceive, 
 F'onr feasts are toward. 
 
 Pum. Let me shake thy hand ; 
 
 I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight. 
 When I have envied thy behavior. 
 
 Eno. Sir, 
 
 I never lov'd you much: but I have prais'd yon. 
 When you have well deserv'd ten times as much 
 As I liave said you did. 
 
 Pom. Enjoy thy plainness, 
 
 It nothing ill becomes thee.— ' 
 Aboard my galley, I invite you all : 
 Will you lead, lords ! 
 
 Ca-s. Ant. Lep. Show- us the way, sir. 
 
 Pom. Come. 
 
 [Exeunt Pompey, C.i-;sar, Antony, Lei'i- 
 tits, Soldiers, and .Attendants. 
 
 H!en. Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have 
 made tliis treaty.— [AHile] — Y'ou and I have 
 iaiown,^ sir. 
 
 Enn. At .sea, 1 think. 
 
 Me/I. We have, sir. 
 
 Enn. Y'ou have done well by water. 
 
 Men. And you by laud. 
 
 Enn. I will praise any man that wiU praise me, 
 though it cannot be denied what I have done by 
 land. 
 
 Men. Nor what I have done by water. 
 
 Eno. Yes.somcthing you can deny for your own 
 safety : you have been a great thief by sea. 
 
 Men. And you by land. 
 
 Enn. There I deny my land service. But give 
 me your hand, Menas: If our eyes had authority, 
 here Ihey might take two thieves kissing. 
 
 Men. All men's faces arc true, whatsoe'er their 
 hands are. 
 £;)o. But there is never a fair woman has a true 
 
 Men. No slander; they steal IiearLs. 
 
 Eno. We came hither to light with you. 
 
 Men. For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a 
 drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his 
 fortune. 
 
 Eno. If he do.sure he cannot weep it back again. 
 
 Men. You have said, sir. We looked not lor 
 Mark Antony here: Pray you, is he married to 
 Cleopatra 1 
 
 Eno. Cxsar's sister is called Octavia. 
 
 Ji/en. True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Mar- 
 cellus. 
 
 Enn. Butshe is now tlic wife of Marcus Antonius. 
 
 Men. Pray you, sir! 
 
 Enn. 'Tis true. 
 
 Men. Then is C.-esar and he for ever laiit together. 
 
 Enn. Ill wore bound to divine of this unity, I 
 would not prophesy so. 
 
 Men. I thiuk the policy of that purpose mad-j 
 more in the marriage, tlian the love of the parlies. 
 
 Eno. I think so too. But you shall fmd, the 
 baud that seems to tie their friendship together, 
 
 ' Scores, marks. 
 
 • Been acquaiutfil. 
 
598 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act II. Scene VII. 
 
 Aviil be the very stranRlor of their amity; Octavia 
 IS of a holy, cold, and ytiU conversation. 
 
 Men. Wiio would not have his wile so ] 
 
 EiiO. Not he, that himself is not so; which is 
 IMark Antony. He will to his Esyptian dish again: 
 then shall the sit;hs of Octavia blow the fire up in 
 Cajsar ; and, as I said before, that which is the 
 strength of their amity, shall prove the immediate 
 author of their variance. Antony will use his atli?c- 
 tion where it is; he married but his occasion here. 
 
 Men. And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you 
 aboard^ I have a health tor you. 
 
 Etw. I shall take it, sir: we have used our throats 
 in Egypt. 
 
 Men. Come; let's away. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII.— On luard Pompey's Calley, 
 
 lying near Misenum. 
 
 Mti.iic, Enter two ur tliree Servants, ivilh a Banquet. 
 
 1 Serv. Here tl'.cy'II be, man : Someo' their plan tsf 
 are ilt-rootcd already; the least wind i' the world 
 will blow thejn down. 
 
 2 Sen'. Lepidus is high-colored. 
 
 1 Serv. They have made liim drink alms-drink. 
 
 2 Serv. As they jiinch one another by the dis- 
 position, he cries out, No more; reconciles tliem to 
 his entreaty, and himself to the drink. 
 
 1 Serv. But it raises the greater war between 
 Jiim and his discretion. 
 
 2 Serv. Why, tliis it is to have a name in great 
 men's tellowsiiip : I had as lief have a reed that will 
 do me no service, as a partizan' I could not beave. 
 
 1 Serv. To be called into a huge sphere, and not 
 to be seen to move in't, are the holes where eyes 
 sliould be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks. 
 
 A Sennet soumled. Enter Cvf.sar, Antony, Pom- 
 
 PISY, I,Erim S, AciillT'A, MECtiNAS, Enoeaubus, 
 
 JMena.s, n^llti other Captains. 
 
 Ant. Thns do they, sir: [To C.ESAn.] They 
 take the flow o' the Nile 
 By certain scales i' tlie pyramid ; they Icnow, 
 By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth. 
 Or ibison,- Ibllow : The bigbcr Nilus swells. 
 The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman 
 Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, 
 And shortly conies to harvest. 
 
 Lep. You have strange serpents there. 
 
 Ant. Ay, Lepidus. 
 
 Lep. Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your 
 mud liy the operation of your sun; so is your cro- 
 codile. 
 
 Ant. They are so. 
 
 /■«/«. Sit,— and some wine. — A health to Lepidns. 
 
 Lep. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll 
 neVr out. 
 
 Eno. ^fot till you liavc slept; I fear me, you'll 
 be iu, till then. 
 
 Lep. Nay, certainly, I have heard, the Ptolemies' 
 pyramises are very goodly things ; without contra- 
 diction, I have heard that. 
 
 Men. Pompey, a word. {Aside. 
 
 Pom. Say in mine ear: What is't ! 
 
 Men. Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain. 
 And hear me speak a word. [Aside. 
 
 I'oin. Forbear me till anon. — 
 
 Tins wine for Lepidus. 
 
 Lep. What manner o' thing is your crocodile? 
 
 Ant. It is shaped, sir,lilie itself; and itis as broad 
 as it hath breadth ; it is just so high as it is, and 
 moves with its own organs; it lives by that which 
 nourishcth it; and the elements once out of it, it 
 transmigrates. 
 
 Lep. What color is it of! 
 
 Ant. Of its own color too. 
 
 Lep. 'Tis a strange serpent. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis .'■o. And tlie tears of it are wet. 
 
 Cir.s. Will this descrintion satisfy him'! 
 
 Ant. With the hcaltli that Pompey gives him, 
 else hi' is a very epicure. 
 
 Pom. [Tu Menas, Aside.] Go, hang, sir, hang! 
 Tell me of that! away. 
 Do as I hid you.— Where's this cup I call'd for ! 
 
 Men. If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me. 
 Rise from thy stool. [A.ii.de. 
 
 Pom. I think, thou'rt mad. The matter! 
 
 [Rlies, and waltis aside. 
 
 Men. I have over held my cap off to thy fortunes. 
 
 ' l'>-'et. ' I'iko. a I'lenty. 
 
 Pom. Thou hast serv'd me with much faith: 
 Wliat's else to say ! 
 Be jolly, lords. 
 
 Ant. These quicksands, Lepidus. 
 
 Keep olT them, for you sink. 
 
 Men. WUt thou be lord of alhthe world! 
 
 Pom. Wliat say'st thou? 
 
 Men. Wilt tliou be lord of the whole world! 
 That's twice. 
 
 Pom. How should that be! 
 
 Men. But entertain it, and, 
 
 Although you think me poor, I am the man 
 Will give thee all the world. 
 
 Pom. Hast thou drunk wel ? 
 
 Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. 
 Thou art, if tijou dar'.st be, the earthly Jove : 
 Whate'er the ocean pales.3 or sky iiiclips,^ 
 Is thine, if thou wilt have't. 
 
 Pom. Show me which way. 
 
 Men. These three world-sharers, these competi- 
 tors,^ 
 Are in thy vessel : Let me cut the cable ; 
 And, when we are put oti; flrll to their throats : 
 All there is thine. 
 
 Pont. Ah, this thou shouldst have done, 
 
 And not have spoken on't ! In me, 'tis villany ; 
 In thee, it liad been good service. Thou must know, 
 'Tis not my profit that doth lead mine honor ; 
 Mine honor, it. Repent, that e'er thy tongue 
 Hath so betray'd tliine act: Being done unknown, 
 I should have found it afterwards well done ; 
 But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. 
 
 Men. For this ! [Aside. 
 
 I'll never Ibllow thy pali'ds fortunes more. — 
 Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis oflTer'd, 
 Shall never fmd it more. 
 
 Pom. Tliis health to Lepidus. 
 
 Ant. Bear him ashore.— I'll pledge it for him, 
 Pompey. 
 
 Eno. Here's to thee, Menas. 
 
 J^ten. Enobarbus, welcome, 
 
 Pi}m. Fill til! the cup be hid. 
 
 E'.no. There's a strong fellow, Menas. 
 
 [Planting to tlie Attendant ivlio carries 
 off Lepidus. 
 
 Men. Why ! 
 
 Eno. He bears 
 
 The tliird part of the world, man : Seest not! 
 
 Men. The third part then is drunk: 'Would it 
 were all. 
 That it might go on wheels ! 
 
 Eno. Drink thou ; increase the reels. 
 
 Men. Come. 
 
 Pom. Tliis is not yet an Alexandrian feast. 
 
 Ant. It ripens towards it. — Strike the vessels, ho ! 
 Here is to Ciesar. 
 
 Cses. I conld well forbear it. 
 
 It's monstrous labor when I wash my brain, 
 And it grows fouler. 
 
 Ant. Be a child o' the time. 
 
 C'aa. Possess' it, I'll make answer: But I had 
 rather fast 
 From all, four days, than drink so much in one. 
 
 Eno. Ha, my brave emperor ! [To Antony. 
 
 Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, 
 And celebrate our drink! 
 
 Pom. Let's ha't, good soldier. 
 
 A nt. Come, let us all take hands ; 
 Till that file conquering wine hath steep'd our sense 
 Ifi soft and delicate Lethe. 
 
 Eno. All ta'KC hands.— 
 
 Make battery to our ears with the loud music;— 
 The while. I'll place you: Then the boy shall sing; 
 The holding' every man shall bear, as loud 
 As his strong sides can volley. 
 
 [Music plays. Enobahbcs places tticm 
 tiand in tiand. 
 
 SONG. 
 Come, ttion monarcti of t tie vine. 
 Plumpy Bacctius. witli pink et/ne:^ 
 Instill/ vats our cores lie droivn'ti ; 
 Witti ttiij gropes our hairs tic crowned; 
 Cup as, tilt the vorlil go round ; 
 Cup us, till I tic world go round! 
 
 Ca-s. What would you more !— Pompey, good- 
 night. Good brother, 
 3 F.nrompassfs. * Kmlir.ices. s Confederates. 
 
 • CUiyid. 1 Uuderstaad. » Burden, chorus. a Eyes, 
 
Act III. Scene II. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 599- 
 
 Let me request you oft": our graver Dusmcss 
 Frowns at this levity.— Gentle lords, let's part; 
 You see, we have burnt our cheeks: Strong Eno- 
 
 barbe 
 Is weaker than the wine ; and mine own tongue 
 Splits what it speaJcs: the wild disguise halh al- 
 most [night,— 
 Antic'd us all. What needs more words i Good- 
 Good Antony, your hand. 
 Pom. 1*11 try you o the shore 
 Ant. And shall, sir; give's your hand. 
 Finn. O, Antony, 
 you have my father's house.— But what i we are 
 
 friends : 
 Come, down into the boat. 
 
 Eno. Take heed you fall not. — 
 
 [Exeunt Pompey, Caisaii, A.ntosy, and 
 Attendants. 
 Menas, I'll not on shore. 
 
 Mm. No, to my cabin. — 
 
 These drums, these trumpets, tlutes ! what! — 
 Let Neptune hear we bid a loud larewell 
 To these great fellows : sound, and be hang'd, 
 sound out. 
 
 [A Fluurish qf Trumpets, with Brums. 
 Enn. Ho, says 'a !— There's my cap. 
 Men. Ho !— noble captain ! 
 
 Come. \^Exeuni. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ Plain in Syria. 
 Enter VENTinirs. rw after conquest, icitti Silttjs, 
 ' anit fjt tier Romiits, Olilcem and Soldiers; t tie dead 
 
 Body of Pacorus borne before tiim. 
 
 Ven. Now, darting Parlhia, art thou struck; and 
 now 
 Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death 
 IVIake me revenger.— Bear the king's son's body 
 Before our army :— Thy Pacorus, Orodes,' 
 Pays this for Marcus Crassus. 
 
 .<,'(■/. Noble Ventidius, 
 
 Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm. 
 The fugitive Parthians follow; spur throughMedia, 
 Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither 
 The routed fly : so thy grand captain Antony 
 Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and 
 Put garlands on thy head. 
 
 Ven. O Silius, Silius, 
 
 I have done enough : A lower place, note well. 
 May make too great an act: For learn this, Silius; 
 Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
 Too high a fame, when him wc serve's away. 
 Ca?sar and Antony have ever won 
 More in their otheer, than person : Sossius, 
 One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, 
 For quick accumulation of renown, 
 Which he achiev'd by the minute, lost his favor: 
 Who does i' the wars more than his captain can, 
 Becomes his captain's captain ; and ambition. 
 The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, 
 Than gain, which darkens him. 
 I could do more to do Antonius good. 
 But 'twould otieiul him ; and in his oirence 
 Should my performance perisli. 
 
 Sil. Thou hast, Ventidius, 
 
 That wifiout which a soldier, and his sword, 
 Grants *^earce distinction. Thou wilt write to 
 Antony 1 
 
 Ven. I'll humbly signify what in his name, 
 That magical word of war, we have eftected ; 
 How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks, 
 The ne'er-yel-beaten horse of Parthia 
 We have jaded out o' the field. 
 
 Sit. Where is he now 1 
 
 Ven. He purposeth to Athens: whither with 
 what haste 
 The weight we must convey with us will permit. 
 We siiall appear belore him. — tjn, there ; pass 
 along. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— Rome. An Anfe-ckamber in Caisar's 
 llrni.'^e. 
 Enter Ac.nippA and Enobarbcs, meeting. 
 Agr. What, are the brothers parted! 
 Eno. They have despatch'd with Pompey, he is 
 gone ; 
 The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps 
 To part from Rome ; Caisar is sad ; and Lepidus, 
 Since Pompey's li^ast, as Menas says, is troubled 
 With tlie green-sickness. 
 A^r. 'Tis a noble Lepidus. 
 
 Eno. A very fine one ; 0. how he loves Caesar ! 
 Agr. Nay. but how dearly he adores Mark An- 
 tony ! 
 Eno. Cffisar, why he's the Jupiter of men. 
 Atx What's Antony 1 The god of Jupiter. 
 • r^Qfrrut wa3 the son of Orodes, l:lag of I'arthia. 
 
 Eno. Spake you of Ctcsar? How? the nonpareil! 
 
 Agr. O Antony ! thou Arabian bird I- 
 
 Eiio. Would you praise Caesar, say, — Ca?sar; — 
 
 go no further, 
 ylg-r. Indeed, he ply'd them both with excellent 
 
 praises. 
 Eno. But he loves Ciesar best;— Yet he loves 
 Antony: 
 Ho ! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, 
 
 cannot 
 Think, speak, cast.write. sing, number, ho, his love 
 To Antony. But as for Ca;sar, 
 Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. 
 Agr. Bolh he loves. 
 
 Eno. They arc his shards,' and he their beetle. 
 So. — [Ti-uniijtts. 
 
 This is to horse.— Adieu, noble .\grippa. 
 Agr. Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell. 
 
 Enter Cesar, Antost, Lepidus, and Octavia. 
 
 Ant. No further sir. 
 
 Ca'.s. You take from me a great part of myself; 
 Use me well lu it.— Sister, prove such a wile 
 Asmy thoughts make thee, and as my furthest band* 
 Shall" pass on thy approof — Most noble Antony, 
 Let not ttie jiiece of virtue,'' which is set 
 Betwixt us, as the cement of our love. 
 To keep it budded, be the ram, to batter 
 The Ibrtress of it : for better might we 
 Have loved without this mean, if on both parts 
 This be not cherish'd. 
 
 Ant. Make me not oflijnded 
 
 In your distrust. 
 
 Cxs. I have said. 
 
 Ant, You shall not find, 
 
 Though you be therein curious.c the least cau.se 
 For wiiat you seem to fear: So, the gods keep you. 
 And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends ! 
 We v.'iU here part. 
 
 Cws. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well ; 
 The elements be kind to thee, and make 
 Thy spirits all of comfort I fare thee well. 
 
 i'kta. My noble brother !— 
 
 Ant. The April's in her eyes: It is love's spring, 
 And these the showers to bring it on.— Be cheerful. 
 
 Octa, Sir, look well to my husband's house ; and— 
 
 Ca-s. What, 
 
 Octavia 1 
 
 Octa, I'll tell vou in your ear 
 
 Ant. Her tongue'will not obey her heart.nor can 
 Her heart inl'urm her tongue: the swan's down 
 
 li-ather. 
 That stands upon the swell at full of tide. 
 And neither way inclines. 
 
 Eno. Will Casar weep ! [Aside to AanipPA. 
 
 Agr. He has a cloud m's face. 
 
 Eno. He were the worse for that, were he a horse ; 
 So is he, being a man. 
 
 Agr. Why. Enoliarbus"! 
 
 When Antony found Julius "Ca-sar dead, 
 He cried almost to roaring; and he wept. 
 When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. 
 
 Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with a 
 rheum ; 
 What willingly he did confound,"' he wail'd : 
 Believe it, till I weep too. 
 
 « The phocDix. 3 Wing-r.ises. • Bond. 
 
 » Octavia. • Scrupulous. ' Destroy. 
 
600 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATKA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 (ass. No, sweet Octavia, 
 
 You shall hear from me still : the time shall not 
 Out-go my thinking on you. 
 
 Ant. Come, sir, come : 
 
 I'll wrestle with you in my stron;j;tli of love : 
 Look, here I have you; thus I let you go, 
 And give you to tlie gods. 
 
 Cx's. Adieu ; be happy ! 
 
 Lep. Let all the number of the stars give liglit 
 To thy fair way ! 
 
 Ca^s. Farewell, farewell ! [KUses Octavia. 
 
 Ant. Farewell ! 
 
 {Trumpets sound. Exeunt. 
 
 SCKNE in.— Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. 
 Clen. Where is the fellow 1 
 
 Alex. Half afcnrd to come. 
 
 Cleo. (io to, go to :— Come hither, sir. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Alex. Good majesty, 
 
 Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you, 
 But when you are well plcas'd. 
 
 Cleo. That Herod's head 
 
 I'll have: But how 7 when Antony is gone, 
 Through whom I might command it. — Come thou 
 near. 
 
 Ness. Most gracious majesty, — 
 • Cleo. Didst thou behold 
 
 Octavia 1 
 
 Mess. Ay, dread queen. 
 
 Cleo. Where ? 
 
 Mess. Madam, in Rome 
 
 I lonk'd her in the face, and saw her led 
 Between her brother and Mark Antony. 
 
 Cleo. Is she as tall as me ? 
 
 Mess. She is not, madam. 
 
 Cleo. Didsthear her speak] Is she shriil-tongued, 
 or low ] 
 
 Mess. Madam, I heard her speak; she is low- 
 voiced. 
 
 Cleo. That's not so good: — He cannot like her 
 long. 
 
 Char, Like her! Olsis! 'tis impossible. 
 
 Cleo. I think so, Charmian : Dull of tongue, and 
 dwartish ! — 
 What majesty is in her gait 1 Remember, 
 If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. 
 
 Mess. She creeps ; 
 
 Hor motion and her station* are as one: 
 She shows a body rather than a life; 
 A statue, than a breather. 
 
 Cleo. Is this certain? 
 
 Mf::s. Or I have no observance. 
 
 Char. Three in Egypt 
 
 Cannot make better note. 
 
 Cleo. He's very knowing, 
 
 I do percCTve't: — There's nothing in her yet:— 
 The tellow has good judgment. 
 
 Char. Excellent. 
 
 Cleo. Guess at her years, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Mess. Madam, 
 
 She was a widow. 
 
 Cleo. Widow ? — Charmian, hark. 
 
 Mess. And I do think, she's thirty. 
 
 Cleo. Bear'st thou her face in mind ? Is it long, 
 or round ! 
 
 Mess. Round even to fauliiness. 
 
 Cleo. For (he most part too, 
 
 Theyarc foolish thatareso. — Her hair, whatcolor"? 
 
 Mc.ss. Brown, madam: And her forehead is as 
 low 
 As she would wish it. 
 
 Cleo. There is gold for thee. 
 
 Thnu must not take my former sharpness ill:^ 
 I will employ thee back again; I fmd thee 
 ]\T"st fit for business: Go, make thee ready; 
 Our letters are prepared. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 Char. A proper man. 
 
 Cko. Indeed, he is so : I repent me much, 
 Tiiat so 1 Iiarry'd-' him. Why, methinks, by him, 
 Tliis creature's no such thing. 
 
 Char. 0, nothing, madam. 
 
 Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, and 
 shoidd know. 
 
 Char. Halh he seen majesty] Isis else defend, 
 And sowing you so long ! 
 
 I^tamlnii; sUlI. 
 
 » railed, lugged. 
 
 Cleo. I have one thing more to ask him yet, 
 good Charmian : 
 But 'tis no matter: thou shalt bring him tn me 
 Where 1 will write: All may be well enough. 
 
 Char. I warrant you, madam. [Exeu7it* 
 
 SCENE IV.— Athens. A Room in Antony's House. 
 Enter Antony and Octavia. 
 
 Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia; not only that, — 
 That were excusable, that, and thousands more 
 Of semblable import, — but he hath waged 
 New wars 'gainst Pompey; made Ids will, and read it 
 To public ear : 
 
 Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could not 
 But pay me terms of honor, cold and sickly 
 He vented them; most narrow measure lent me: 
 When the best hmt was given him, he not took*t, 
 Or did it from his teeth.' • 
 
 Ocfa. my" good lord, 
 
 Believe not all ; or, if you must believe. 
 Stomach- not all. A more unhappy lady, 
 If this division chance, ne'er stood between, 
 Praying lor both parts: 
 And the good gods will mock me presently, 
 WJien I shall pray, O, bless my lord and husband,' 
 Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, 
 O, bless ntu brother! Husband win, win brother, 
 Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway 
 'Tvvixt these extremes at all. 
 
 Ant. Gentle Octavia, 
 
 Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks 
 Best to preserve it : If I lose mine honor, 
 I lose myself: better I were not yours. 
 Than yuurs so branchless. But, as you requested. 
 Yourself shall go between us: The mean time, lady, 
 I'll raise the preparation of a war 
 Sliallsliiin^ your brother: Make your soonest haste; 
 So your desires are yours. 
 
 Octa. Thanks to my lord. 
 
 The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak, 
 Your reconciler ! Wars 'twixt you twain would be 
 As if the world should cleave, and that slam men 
 Should solder up the rill. 
 
 Ant. When it appears to you where this begins, 
 Turn your displeasure that way; for our faults 
 Can never be so equal, that your love 
 Can equally move with thcni. Provide your going; 
 Clioose yyur own company, and command whatcost 
 Your heart has mind to. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Enobarbus ayid Euos, meeting. 
 
 Eno. How now, friend Eros ? 
 
 Eros. There's strange news come, sir. 
 
 Eno. What, man ] 
 
 Eros. Ca.^sar and Lepidus have made wars upon 
 Pompey. 
 
 Eno. This is old : What is the success 7-i 
 
 Eros. Caesar, Jiaving made use of liim'* in the 
 wars 'gainst Pompey, presently denied him rival- 
 ity ;'^ would not let liim partake in the glory of the 
 action: and not resting Jiere, accuses iiim'of let- 
 ters he had tbrmerly wrote to pompey ; upon his 
 own appeal," seizes him: So the poor third is up, 
 till death enlarge his confine. 
 
 Eno. Then, world, thou liast a pair of chaps, no 
 more ; 
 And throw between them all the food thou hast, 
 They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony? 
 
 Eros. He's walking in the garden— thus; and 
 spurns 
 The rush that lies before him ; cries Fool, Lepidus! 
 And threats the throat of that his officer, 
 Tliat murder'd Pompey. 
 
 Eno. Our great navy's rigged. 
 
 Eros. For Italy, and Casar. More, Domilius; 
 My lord desires you presently: my news 
 I might have told hereafter. 
 
 Eno. *TwiU be naught: 
 
 But let it be.— Bring me to Antony. 
 
 Eras. Come, sir. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE VI.— Rome. A Room in Cesar's House. 
 Enter Cesar, AciRippA, and Mec^enas. 
 Caos. Contemning Rome, he has done all this* 
 
 And more ; 
 I Tiulistini-t, throuijh his tiX'th. « Resent 
 
 3 [»isi;r:u-... 4 What fulluws? » /. €. UpU\\is. 
 
 « E(iual muk. i Accusation. 
 
Scene VII. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 GO I. 
 
 In Alpxandria.— here's the manner of it, — 
 r the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd, 
 Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold 
 Were publicly enthrqn'd : at the feet, sat 
 Caesarion. whom they call my father's son ; 
 And all the unlawful issue, that their lust 
 Since then hath made between them. Unto her 
 He gave the 'stablishment of Egypt; made her 
 Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, 
 Absolute queen. 
 
 Mec. This in the public eye? 
 
 CcCS. r the common show-place, where they ex- 
 ercise. 
 His sons lie there proclaim'd, The kings of kings: 
 Gr^t Media, Parthia, and Armenia, 
 He gave to Alexander ; to Ptolemy, he assigned 
 Syria, Silicia, and Phccnicia: She 
 In the habiliments of the goddess Isis 
 That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience, 
 As 'tts reported, so. 
 
 Mec. ^ Let Rome be thus 
 
 Inforni'd. 
 
 Ag^r. Who. queasyS with his insolence 
 Already, will their good thoughts call from him. 
 
 Ci£S. The people know it; and have now received 
 His accusations, 
 
 Agr. Whom does he accuse ? 
 
 CcPs, Caisar: and that, liaving in Sicily 
 St'xUis Pumpeius spoiPd, we iiave not rafed^ him 
 Jlis part o' the isle: then does he say, he lent me 
 Sntue shi])ping unrestor'd: lastly, he frets, 
 Tliat Lepiaus of the triumvirate 
 Should be depos'd; and, being, that we detain 
 All his revenue. 
 
 Agr. Sir, this should be answer'd. 
 
 CcC5. *Tis done already, and the messenger gone. 
 I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel; 
 That he his high authority abus'd. 
 And did deserve his change; tor what I have con- 
 
 quer'd, 
 I grant hiin part; but then, in his Armenia, 
 And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I 
 Demand the like. 
 
 Mcc. He*ll never yield to that. 
 
 Cijcs. Nor must not then be yielded to m this. 
 Enter Octavia. 
 
 Octa. Hail. Ca?sar, and my lord ! Iiail, most dear 
 Cffisar I 
 
 Cse.f. That ever I should call thee, cast-away ! 
 
 Ocia. You have not call'd me so, nor have you 
 cause. 
 
 Cses. Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You 
 come not 
 Like Caesar's sister: The wife of Antony 
 Should iiavc an army lor an usher, and 
 The netglis of horse'to tell of her approach, 
 Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way 
 Should have borne men; and expectation fainted, 
 Longing tor what it had not: nay, the dust 
 Should have ascended lo the roof of heaven, 
 llais'd by your populous troops: But you are 
 
 come 
 A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented 
 The ustent' of our love, wliich, letl unshown, 
 Is utlen lell unlov'd : we should have met you 
 By sea, and land; supplying every stage 
 VVith an augmented greeting. 
 
 Ocia. Good my lord, 
 
 To come thus was T not constraiu'd, but did it 
 On my free-will. My lord, Mark Antony, 
 Hearnig that you prepared (or war, acquainted 
 My grieved ear witlial; whereon, 1 begg'd 
 His pardon tor return. 
 
 Ca?-". Which soon he granted, 
 
 Being an obstruct 'tween liis his-t and him. 
 . Ocia. Do not say so, my lord. 
 
 dcs. I have eyes upon him, 
 
 And his affairs come to me on the wind. 
 Where is he now? 
 
 Ocia. My lord, in Athens. 
 
 Ci£.s. No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra 
 Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire 
 Up to a whore; wlio now are levying 
 Tlie kings o' the earth tor war: He hath assembled 
 Bocchus, the king of Lybia; Archeiaus 
 Of Cajijiadocia ; Philadelphos, king 
 Of Pai)hlagonia ; the Thraciun king, Adallas ; 
 KiJig Malchus of Arabia; king of Pont; 
 
 * £ick.. disgusted. » Assigned. * Show, token. 
 
 Herod of Jewry ; Milhridates, king 
 Of Comagene; Polemon and Aminfas, 
 The kings of Alede, and Lycaonia, with a 
 More larger list of sceptres. 
 
 Octa. Ah me, most wretched, 
 
 That have my heart parted betwixt two friends, 
 That do afflict eacJi other ! 
 
 Cass. Welcome hither : 
 
 Your letters did withhold our breaking forth ; 
 Till wc perceiv'd both how you were wrong led. 
 And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart: 
 Be you not troubled vi'ith tlie time, which drives 
 o'er your content these strong necessities; 
 But let determin'd things to destiny 
 Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome: 
 NotlMUg more dear to mc. You are abused 
 Beyond the mark of thought; and the high gods, 
 To do you justice, make them ministers 
 Of us, and those that love you. Bes^t of comfort; 
 And ever welcome to us. 
 
 Agr. Welcome, lady. 
 
 Mec, Welcome, dear madam. 
 Each heart in Rome does love and pity you : 
 Only the adulterous Antony, most large 
 In his abominations, turns you olF; 
 And gives his potent regiment^ to a trull, 
 That noises it against us. 
 
 Octa. Is it so, sirl 
 
 Ci£s. Most certain. Sister, welcome: Pray you, 
 Be ever known to patience : My dearest sister ! 
 
 [Exeu7it, 
 
 SCENE VII. — Antony's Camp near tlie Prunwn- 
 iury o/Actium. 
 
 Enter Clkopatua and ExoDARBts 
 
 Cleo. I will be even with thee, doubt it not. 
 
 Eno. But wliy, why, why ! 
 
 C/eo. Thou hast forspoke^ my being in these wars, ■ 
 And sayst, it is not liU 
 
 Eno. Well, is it? isiti 
 
 Cleo. Is'tnotl Denounce against us, why should 
 not we 
 Be there in person 1 
 
 Eno. [Aside.] Well, I could reply : — 
 If we should serve willi Iioise and maies togctlier, 
 The horse were merely' lost; the mares would bear 
 A soldier, and his horse. 
 
 Cleo* What is't you say ] 
 
 Kjw. Your presence needs must puzzle Antony; 
 Take from his heart, take from his brain, from his 
 
 time. 
 What should not then be spared. He is already 
 Traduced lor levity; and *tis said in Rome, 
 That Photinus an eunuch, and your maids. 
 Manage this war. 
 
 Clto. Smk Rome; and their tongues rot, 
 
 That speak against us! A charge we bear iUhe war. 
 And, as the president of my kingdom, will 
 Appear there lor a man. Speak not against it; 
 I will not stay behind. 
 
 Eiio. Nay, I have done: 
 
 Hurc comes the emperor. 
 
 Enter Antony and Canidius. 
 
 Anf. Is't not strange. Canidius, 
 
 That from Tarcntnm, and Brundusium, 
 He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, 
 And take in^ Torync^ — You have heard on't 
 sweet 1 
 
 Cleo. Celerity is never more admired, 
 Than by tlie negligent. 
 
 Ant. A good rebuke, 
 
 Wliich might have well become the best of men. 
 To taunt at slackness. — Canidius, we 
 Will fight with him by sea. 
 
 Cleo. By sea ! Wiiat else 1 
 
 Can. Why will my lord do to ? 
 
 Ant. ForC he dares us to't. 
 
 Eno. So hath my lord dared him lo single tight. 
 
 Can. Ay, and to wage this battle at Pliarsaha, 
 Where Ca'sarlbughtwithPonipey: But thcM-oIlL-rs, 
 Which serve not lor his vantage, he shakes olf; 
 And so should you. 
 
 Eno. Your ships are not well manned: 
 
 Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people 
 Ingross'd by switl impress;' in Ca-sar's tleet 
 Are those, that otten have 'gainst Pompey Ibught: 
 
 » Governnit'iit. 
 - * Take, subdue. 
 
 a Forbid. 
 6 liucause. 
 
 « Absolutely. 
 
 1 1'rtisscd in haat& 
 
602 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Their ships are yare ;S yours, heavy. No disgrace 
 Shall fall you for refusing him at sea, 
 Being prepar'd for laud. 
 Ant. By sea, by sea. 
 
 Kiw. Most worthy sir, you therein throw away 
 The absolute soldiership you have by land; 
 Distract your army, which doth most consist 
 Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted 
 Your own renowned knowledge ; quite forego 
 The way which promises assurance ; and 
 Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard, 
 From tivm security. 
 Ant. I'll fight at sea. 
 
 Cte<i. I have sixty sails.o C-Bsar none better. 
 Ant. Our overplus of shipping will we burn; 
 And, with the rest fuU-mann'd from the head of 
 
 Acti u in 
 Beat the approaching Ca-sar. But if we fail, 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 We then can do't at land.— Thy business? 
 
 Men/!. The news is true, my lord; he is descried; 
 Ca:sar has taken Toryne. 
 
 Ant. Can he be there in person? 'tis impossible; 
 Strange, that his power should be.— Canidius, 
 Our luneteen legions thou shalt hold by land. 
 And our twelve thousand horse;— We'll to our 
 ship; 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 Away, my Thetis."— How now, worthy soldier? 
 
 Siilil. O noble emperor, do not Hght by sea; 
 Trust not to rotten planks : Do you misdoubt 
 This sword, and these my wounds ? Let the 
 
 Esyptians, 
 And the Phoenicians, go a-ducking; we 
 Have used to conquer, standing on the earth. 
 And ligliting toot to foot. 
 Ant. Well, well, away. 
 
 [Ex. Antony, Cleopatra, ami Enubarbus. 
 Sold. By Hercules, I think, I am i' the right. 
 Clin. Soldier, thou art : but his whole action grows 
 Not in the power on't: So our leader's led. 
 And we arc women's men. 
 
 *■"'''• You keep by land 
 
 The legions and the horse whole, do you not? 
 
 Clin. Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, 
 Puiilicola, and Cselius, are for sea: 
 But we keep whole by land. This speed of CiEsar's 
 Carries^ beyond belief. 
 
 Sold. While he was yet in Rome, 
 
 His power went out in such distractions, as 
 Beguil'd all spies, 
 ''a". Who's his lieutenant, hear you ' 
 
 Sol, I. They say, one Taurus. 
 <-'""■ \Yell I knovi' the man. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. The emperor calls for Canidius. 
 Can. Willi news the time's witli labor ; and throes 
 forth,3 
 Each minute, some. {Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE VIII.— .-I Plain near Actiura. 
 Enter C-ESAr, Taokhs, Officers, and olfiers. 
 Crs. Taurus,— 
 Tour. My lord. 
 
 Cas. Strike not by land ; keep whole : 
 
 Provoke not battle, till we have done at sea. 
 Do not exceed the prescript of this scroll : 
 Our ibrtune lies upon this jump.* [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter AxToxY and Exobarbus. 
 Ant. Set we our squadrons on yon' side o' the hill 
 In eye of Cesar's battle; from whicli place ' 
 
 We may the number of the ships behold. 
 And so proceed accordingly. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Canidh'S, 7naretiinff witli Ais TMnd Army 
 one loaij over tlie stuffe; and Talrus, t/te Lieu- 
 tenant of Cesar, tlie otiier way. After their 
 eomg in, is tieard t/te noise of a Sca-Flg/it, 
 
 Alarum. Re-enter Exocaurus. 
 Eno. Naught, naught, all naught ! I can behold 
 no longer; 
 The Anloniad.s the Egyptian admiral. 
 With all their sixty, fly, and turn the rudder : 
 1 o see't, mine eyes are blasted. 
 
 ■ Henily. 
 
 5 (loOH 
 
 " ■''birs- I Cleopatra. 
 
 .. ,„, , ,' "i"'i3S forth. 4 11az.-u-d. 
 
 ^Jlme of Cleopatra s ship. 
 
 Enter SCARtJs. 
 
 Scar. Gods, and goddesses, 
 
 All the whole synod of them ! 
 
 Eno. • What's thy passion? 
 
 Scar. The greater cantloc of the world is lost 
 VVitli very ignorance ; we have kiss'd away 
 Kingdoms and provinces. 
 
 Eno. Howappears the fight? 
 
 Scar. On our side like the token'd' pestilence. 
 Where death is sure. Yon' ribald-rid naj; of Egypt, 
 \Vhom leprosy o'ertakc '. i' the midst o' the fight,— 
 When vantage like a pair of twins appeard, 
 Both as the same, or rather ours the elder,— 
 The brize* upon her, like a cow in June,— 
 Hoists sails, and flies. 
 
 Eno. That I beheld ; mine eyes 
 
 Did sicken at the sight on't, and could not 
 Endure a further view. 
 
 Scar. She once being loof 'd,9 
 
 The noble ruin of her magic, Antony. 
 Claps on his sea-wing, and like a doting mallard, 
 Leaving the fight in height, flics after her : 
 1 never saw an action of such shame ; ^ 
 
 Experience, manhood, honor, ne'er before 
 Did violate so itself. 
 
 Ena. Alack, alack ! 
 
 Enter Canidius. 
 
 Can. Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, 
 And sinks most lamentably. Had our general 
 Been what he knew himself, it had gone well: 
 O, he has given example of our flight. 
 Most grossly, by his own. 
 
 Eno. Ay, are you thereabouts ? Why tlien, good- 
 night 
 Indeed. [Aside. 
 
 tan. Towards Peloponnesus are they fled. 
 
 Scar. 'Tis easy to't ; and tliere I will attend 
 What further comes. 
 
 Can. To Ccesar will I render 
 
 My legions and my horse; six kings already 
 Show me the way of yielding. 
 
 Eno. I'll vet follow 
 
 The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason 
 Sits in the wind against me. ['Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IX.— Alexandria. A Room in the 
 Palace. 
 Enter Antony and Attendants. 
 Ant. Hark, the land bids me tread no more 
 upon't. 
 It is asham'd to bear me ! Friends, come hither, 
 I am so lated' in the world, th.^t I 
 Have lost my way lor ever :— I have a ship 
 Laden with gold ; take that, divide it: fly, 
 And make your peace with Cajsar. 
 -5"; , Fly ! not we. 
 
 Ant. I have fled myself; and have instructed 
 cowards 
 To run, and show tlieir shoulders.- Friends, be 
 
 gone; 
 I have myself resolv'd upon a course. 
 Which lias no need of you; be gone: 
 My treasure's in the harbor, take it.— 0, 
 1 lollow'd that I blush to look upon: 
 My very hairs do mutiny ; for the white 
 Iteprove the brown for rashness, and they them 
 For fear and doting.— Friends, be gone : you shall 
 Have letters from me to some friends, that will 
 Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad. 
 Nor make replies of loathness; take the hint 
 Which my despair proclaims; let that be left 
 Which leaves itself; to the sea-side straightway: 
 I will po.ssess you of that ship and treasure. 
 Leave me, I pray, a little ; 'pray you now :— 
 Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command. 
 Therefore I pray you:— I'll see you by and by 
 
 [ Sits down. 
 
 Enter Eros and Cleopatra, led by Charmian 
 
 and Iras. 
 
 Eros. Nay, gentle madam, to him : — Comfort 
 
 him. 
 Iras. Do, most dear queen. 
 Char. Do! Why, what else ? 
 Cleo. Let me sit down. O Juno ! 
 Ant. No, no, no, no, no. 
 Eros. See you here, sir. 
 
 •Corner. 'Spotted. « Thogaa-lly that slings cattle. 
 ' Drought closu to the wind. ' Belated, bouigUlocJ. 
 
Scene XL 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 603 
 
 Anf. O fye, fye, fye. 
 Char. Madam, — 
 
 Ims. Madam ; good empress \— 
 Kros. Sir, sir, — 
 
 Ant. Yes, my lord, yes;— He,^ at Philirpi, kcpt 
 His sword even like a dancer; while I struck 
 The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I, 
 Tliat the mad Brutus ended: he alone 
 Dealt on lieutcnantry,^ and no practice had 
 In Ihc brave squares of war: Yet now — No matter. 
 Cleo. Ah, stand by. 
 Krof^. Tlic queen, my lord, the queen. 
 Iras. Go to him, madam, speak to him ; 
 lit is unqualitied^ with very shame. 
 Ctco. VVell then. — Sustain me: — ! 
 Eros, aiost noble sir, arise : the queen ap- 
 proaches ; 
 Her head's declin'd, and death will seize her; but^ 
 Y^our comfort makes the rescue. 
 
 Anf. I have ottended reputation; 
 A most umiobie swerving. 
 Eros. Sir, the queen. 
 
 Anf. O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt] See, 
 How I convey my shame out of thine eyes, 
 By looking back on what I have left behind 
 'Stroy'd in disl»onor. 
 
 Cleo. O my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought, 
 You would have followed. 
 
 Ant. Kgypt, thou knew'st too well, 
 
 Wv heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings, 
 And thou shouldst tow me after: O'er my spirit 
 Thy -full supremacy thou knew'st ; and that 
 Thy beck might I'rom the bidding of the gods 
 Command me. 
 Cleo. 0, my pardon. 
 
 Ant. Now I must 
 
 To the young man send humble treaties, dodge 
 And jwlter in the shifts of lowness; who 
 \Vith half the bulk o' the v^orld play'd as I pleas'd, 
 M;tkliig and marring fortunes. You did know 
 How much you were my conqueror; and that 
 My sword, made weak by my alli^ction, would 
 Obey it on all cause. 
 
 Cleo. O pardon, pardon. 
 
 Ant. Fall not a tear, 1 say: one of them rates^ 
 All that is won antl lost; Give me a kiss; 
 Even this repays me. — We sent our schoolmaster; 
 Is he come bac'k \ — Love, I am full of lead : — 
 Some wine, within there, and our viands:— For- 
 tune knows, 
 We scorn her most, when most she oficrs blows. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE X.— Caesar's Camp in Egypt. 
 Enter Cksar, Dolauell.v, Thyrel's, and otiiers. 
 CiES. Let him appear that's come from Antony. — 
 Know you Inml 
 
 Dot. Cffisar, 'tis his schoolmaster;'^ 
 
 An argument that lie is j)Inck'd, when hiliicr 
 lie sends so jioor a pinion of his wing, 
 Wliich had superlluous kings for messengers, 
 Not many moons gone by. 
 
 Enter Euphroxics. 
 Ca^s. Approach, and speak. 
 
 Eiip. Such as I am, I come Ifom Antony : 
 I was of late as petty to his ends. 
 As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf 
 To his grand sea. 
 dcs. Be it so: Declare thine office. 
 
 Eup. Lord of his Ibrtunes, he salutes thee, and 
 Requires to live in Kgyjit : which not granted, 
 He lessens his requests ; and to tliee sues. 
 To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, 
 A private man in .\thens: Tliis for him. 
 Ne*"', Cleopatra docs confess thy greatness; 
 Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves 
 The circle^ of the' Ptolemies for her heirs. 
 Now hazarded to thy grace. 
 
 C!£S. For ."Vntony, 
 
 I have no eai-s to his request. The queen 
 Of audience, nor desire, shall fail ; so she 
 From Egypt drive her all-disgraced triend. 
 Or take his life there : This it she perlbrm. 
 She sliall not sue luiheard. So to them both. 
 
 3 Foiiglit by his oIBcers. 
 » Uuless. 
 
 « Cffisar. 
 
 • Divested of his faculties. 
 
 « Equals in value. 
 
 ' EiipkroniuSy schoolm.ister to Antony "a children. 
 
 ' Diadem, the crowu. 
 
 Eup. Fortune pursue thee ! 
 
 Cscs. Bring him through the bands. 
 
 [Exit Euphronios. 
 To try thy eloquence, now 'tis time : Despatch; 
 From .■Vntony win Cleopatra : promise, 
 
 [TbTrrVREca, 
 And in our name, what she requires; add more, 
 From thine invention, ofli?rs: women are not. 
 In their best fortunes, strong; but want will perjure 
 The ne'er touch'd vestal : Try thy cumiing, Thyreus; 
 Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we 
 Will answer as a law. 
 
 Thijr. Cffisar, I go. 
 
 Cxs. Observe how Antony becomes his flaw;' 
 And what thou think'st his very action speaks 
 In every power that moves. 
 
 Ttii/r. Ctesar, I shall. 
 
 SCENE XL— Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Cleopatra, E.nobarbcs, CaARsnAN, and 
 Iras. 
 Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus 1 
 Eno. Think, and die. 
 
 Cleo. Is Antony, or we, in fault for this ! 
 Eno. Antony only, tliat would make his will 
 Lord of his reason. Wliat although you lied 
 From that great face ot war, whose several ranges 
 Frighted ^ach other ] why should he ibllow 1 
 The itch of his atli^ction should not then • 
 Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point. 
 When half to halt' the world oppos'd, he being 
 The mered question :' 'Twas a siiame no less 
 Than was his loss, to course your flying flags, 
 And leave his navy gazing. 
 Cleo. Pr'ythee, peace. 
 
 Enter Antony, witli Euphromus. 
 Ant. Is this his answer ] 
 Eup. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ant. The queen 
 
 Shall then have courtesy, so she will yield 
 Us up. 
 Eup. He says so. 
 
 Ant. Let her know it. — 
 
 To the boy Cresar send this grizzled head, 
 And he will till thy wishes to the brim 
 With principahties. 
 Cleo. That head, my lordl 
 
 Ant. To him again; tell him he wears the ro«e 
 Of youth upon him; from which the world should 
 
 note 
 Something particular: his coin, ships, Icgion.s, 
 Maybe a coward's; whose ministers would prevail 
 Under the service of a child, as soon 
 As i' the command of Cxsar: I dare him therefore 
 To lay his gay caparisons- apart. 
 And answer me declined,^ sword against sword. 
 Ourselves alone: I'll write it; toUow me. 
 
 [Exeunt .Antony an'l Ei'PiiitoNirs. 
 Eno. Yes, like enough, high-battled Cii'sar will 
 Unstate liis hapiiiness, and lie staged to tlie show. 
 Against a swordcr. — 1 see, men's Uidgineuts are 
 A parceH of their fortunes: and things outward 
 Do draw the inward quality after them, 
 To suller all alike. Tliat he should dream. 
 Knowing all measures, the full Ca-sar will 
 Answer 1iis emptiness! — Ctesar, thou hast subdued 
 His judgment loo. 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 Alt. A messenger from Ctesar. 
 
 Cleo. What, no more ceremony ! — See, my 
 women ! — 
 Against the blown rose may they stop their nose. 
 That knecPd unto the buds. — Admit him, sir. 
 Eno. Mine honesty, and I, begin to square.5 
 
 [Aside. 
 The loyalty, well held to fools, does make 
 Our faith mere folly : — Yet, he that can endure 
 To Ibllow with allegiance a fallen lord. 
 Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 
 And earns a place i' the story. 
 
 Enter Thy'reos. 
 Cleo. Coesar's will 1 
 
 Ttii/r. Hear it apart. 
 
 Cleo. None but friends ; say boldly, 
 
 8 Conforms himself to this breacll of his fortune. 
 > The only eaiise of disi)ute. 
 
 a Circunistanees of si>lendor. » In age and power. 
 * Are of a piece with them. • Quarrel. 
 
604 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. Act III. Scene XI. 
 
 Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. 
 
 Eno. He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has; 
 Or needs not us. If Csesar please, our master 
 Will leap to be his friend : For us, you know, 
 VViiose he is, we are ; and that's Ceesar's. 
 
 Thyr. So.— 
 
 Tluis then, thou most rcnown'd; Csesar entreats, 
 Not to consider in wliat ease thou stand'st, 
 Further tlian he is Ccesar. 
 
 Cleo. Go on: Right royal. 
 
 Thyr. He knows, that you emlirace not Antony 
 As you did love, but as you fear'd him. 
 
 Cleu. O ! 
 
 Tkyr. The scars upon your honor, therefore, he 
 Does pity, as constrained blemishes, 
 Not as descrv'd. 
 
 Cleo. He is a god, and knows 
 
 Wliat is most riglit; Mine lionor was not yielded, 
 But eonquer'd merely. 
 
 End. To he sure of that, {Aside. 
 
 I will ask Antony. — Sir, sir, thouVt so leaky, 
 That we must leave thee to thy sinking, lor 
 Thy dearest quit thee. [Exit Kxobaebus. 
 
 Thyr. Shall I say to Cajsar 
 
 Wliat you require of him? tor he partly begs 
 To be desir'd to give. It much would please him, 
 Tliat of his fortunes you should make a staff 
 To lean upon : hut it would warm his spirits, 
 To hear trom me you had left Antony, 
 And.put yourself under his shrowd, 
 Tiic universal landlord. 
 
 Cleo. What's your name ? 
 
 Thyr. My name is Thyreus. 
 
 Clfo. Most kind messenger, 
 
 Say to great C.-csar this : In disputation' 
 I kiss his conquering hand: tell him I am prompt 
 To lay my crown at his feet, and there to kneel: 
 Tell him. from his all-obeying' breath I hear 
 The doom of Egypt. 
 
 Thur. 'Tis your noblest course. 
 
 Wiscfom and fortune combating together, 
 If that the former dare but what it can. 
 No chance may shake it. Give me grace* to lay 
 M^■ duty on your hand. 
 
 Cleo. Your Cesar's father 
 
 Oft, when he hath mused of taking kingdoms in,!i 
 Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, 
 As it rain'd Ifisses. 
 
 Re-enter Antoxt and EsoBAnnrs. 
 
 Ant. Favors, by Jove that thunders !— 
 
 What art thou, fellow '.' 
 
 Thyr. One, that but performs 
 
 The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest 
 To liave command obey'd. 
 
 Eno. You will be wliifp'd. 
 
 Ant. Approach, (here:— Ay, you kite!— Now 
 gods and devils! 
 Authority melts from me : Of late, when I cried, Hn! 
 Like boys unto a muss.i kings would start forth, 
 And cry, Yitur ivitt? Have you no ears ! I am 
 
 Enter Attendants. 
 Antony yet. Take hence this Jack,2and whip him. 
 
 Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's wh-clp, 
 Thau with an old one dying. 
 
 Ant. Moon and stars ! 
 
 Whip him:— Were't twenty of the greatest tribu- 
 taries 
 That do acknowledge Cnesar. should I find Iheia 
 So saucy with the hand ofshe here, ( What's her name 
 Since she was Cleopatra 1}— Whip him, fellows. 
 Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his lace. 
 And whine aloud for mercy : Take him honcc. 
 
 Thyr. l\Iark Antony, — 
 
 A lit. Tug him away: being whipp'd. 
 
 Bring him again :— This Jack of Ca;sar's shall 
 Bear us an errand to him. — 
 
 [Ereunt .\ttend. with Thtreds. 
 You were half blasted ere I knew you :— Ha ! 
 Have 1 my pillow left nnpress'd in Rome, 
 Forborne the getting of a lawful race. 
 And by a gem of women, to be abused 
 By one that looks on feeders ?3 
 
 Cleo. Good my lord,— 
 
 Ant. You have been a boggier ever: — 
 But when we in o\o- viciousncss grow hard, 
 
 " Snppnspd to lu> nn error for ihpvtation. i. r. by prosy. 
 
 ' Obfvt'd. 8 (Irant nu' thit fQvor. "Conquering. 
 
 ' t'ciiimlile. ' A term of coutompt. » Servants. 
 
 (0 misery on't!) the wise gods secl^ our eyes; 
 In our own filth dropour clear judgments; make U3 
 Adore our errors : laugh at us, while we strut 
 To our contiision, 
 
 tVfo. O, is it < ome to this ? 
 
 Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon 
 Dead Ca?sar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment 
 Of Cneius Pompey's; besides wliat hotter hours, 
 Unregister'd in vulgar fame, 5'ou have 
 Luxuriously pick'd out: — For, 1 am sure, 
 Though you can guess what temperance should be, 
 You know not what it is. 
 
 Cleo. Wherelbre is this 1 
 
 Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards. 
 And say, God qiiit you ! be familiar with 
 My playfellow, your hand ; this kingly .seal, 
 And plighter of high hearts! — O, that I were 
 Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar 
 The horned herd ! for I have savage cause ; 
 And to jiroclaim it civilly, were like 
 A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank 
 For being yare^ about him. — Is he whipp'd ! 
 
 Re-enter Attendants, with Thyheds. 
 
 1 Att. Soundly, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Cry d he ] and bejg'd he pardon ! 
 
 1 Att. He did ask favor. 
 
 Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent 
 Thou wast not made his daughter ; and be thou sorry 
 To follow Ca?sar in his triumph, since 
 Thou hast been whipp'd lor iollowing him: hence- 
 forth. 
 The white hand of a lady fever thee, 
 Shake tliou to look on't.— Get thee back to Ca?sar, 
 ■Tell him thy entertainment : Look, thou say, 
 He makes me angry with him : lur he seems 
 Proud and disdainful ; hari^ng on what I am ; 
 Not what he knew I was: ht^ makes me angry ; 
 And at this time most easy 'tis to do't ; 
 When my good stars, that were my former guides, 
 Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires 
 Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike 
 My speech, and what is done ; tell him, he has 
 Hipparchus, my entranchis'd bondman, whom 
 He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, 
 As he shall hke. to quit' me : Urge it thou : 
 Hence, with thy stripes, begone. [E.vit Thyrecs. 
 
 Cleo. Have you done yet ! 
 
 Ant. Alack, our terrene" moon 
 
 Is now eclips'd ; and it portends alone 
 The fall of Antony ! 
 
 Cleo. I must stay his time. 
 
 Ant. To flatter Ca?sar, would you mingle eyes 
 With one that ties his points 1 
 
 Cleo. Not know me yet 1 
 
 Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? 
 
 CU'ih All, dear, if I be so, 
 
 From my cold heart let heaven engender hail. 
 And poison it in the source ; and tlie first sloue 
 Dro]) in my neck : as it determines," so 
 Dissolve my life ! The next, Casarion' smite ! 
 Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb, 
 Together with my brave Egyptians all. 
 By the discandying' of this pelleted storm, 
 Lie graveless; till the flies and gnats of Nile 
 Have buried them for prey ! 
 
 Ant. I am satisfied. 
 
 Ccpsar sits down in Alexandria : where 
 I will oppose his fate. Our force by land 
 Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy' too 
 Have knit again, and fleet,- thrca'l'ning most sea- 
 like." 
 Where hast thou been, my heart? — Dost thou hcs' 
 
 lady ? 
 If from the field I shall return once more 
 To kiss these lips, I will ajii)ear in blood : 
 I ajid my sword will earn our chronicle: 
 There is hope in it yet. 
 
 Cleo. That's my brave lord ! 
 
 Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd. 
 And fight maliciously: for when mine hours 
 Were nice^ and lucky, men did ransom lives 
 Of me lor jests; but now, I'll sot my teelh. 
 And send to darkness all that stop inc. — Come, 
 Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me 
 All my sad captains, fill our bowls ; once more 
 Let's mock the midnight bell. 
 
 < Close up. » Iveiidy. bandy. « nequite. 
 
 'Earthly. 8 Dissolves. » Her son by Julius Cjesap. 
 
 ' Jlelting. • Float. ' Trifling. 
 
Act IV. Scene IV. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 COS 
 
 Cleo. I' is my birth-day : 
 
 I had thought to have held it poor; but. since my 
 
 lord 
 Is Antony airain, I will be Cleopatra. 
 Ant. We'll jet do well. 
 Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord. 
 Ant. Do so; we'll speak to them; and to-night 
 I'll force 
 The wine peep through their scars.— Come on, my 
 
 queen ; 
 There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight, 
 
 I'll make death love me ; for I will contend 
 Even with his pestilent scythe. 
 
 {Ex. Antony, Cleopatra, and Attendants. 
 Eno. Now he'll out-stare the lightning. To be 
 furious 
 Is, to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood. 
 The dove will peck the estridge ;"■ and I see still, 
 A diminution in our captain's brain 
 Restores Iiis heart: When valor preys on reason. 
 It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek 
 Some way to leave him. '^Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— CsEsar's Camp at Alexandria. 
 Enter Cesar, reading a Letter; Acrippa, Me- 
 c.ENAS, and otiiers. 
 Cxs. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had 
 power 
 To beat me out of Egypt: my messenger 
 He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal 
 
 combat. 
 Caesar to Antony : Let the old ruffian Icnow, 
 I have many other ways to die; meantime, 
 Laugh at his challenge. 
 
 Mec. Csesar must think. 
 
 When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted 
 Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now 
 Make boot' of his distraction: Never anger 
 Made good guard for itself. 
 
 Cees. Let our best heads 
 
 Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles 
 We mean to fight : — Within our files there are. 
 Of lliose that serv'd Mark Antony but late, 
 Enough to fetch him in. See it he done ; 
 And feast the army: we have store to do't, 
 And they have carn'd the waste. Poor Antony ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Alexandria. A Runin in tlie Palace. 
 
 Enter Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbvs, Charmian, 
 
 Iras, Alkxas, and uttiers. 
 
 Ant. He will not fight with me, Doraitius. 
 
 Enn. No. 
 
 Aat. Why should he not ? 
 
 Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better 
 tbrtunc, 
 lie is twenty men to one. 
 
 Ant. To-morrow, soldier, 
 
 Bv sea and land I'll fight: or I will live, 
 of bathe my dying honor in the blood 
 Shall make'it five again. Woo't thou fight welH 
 
 Enn. I'll strike ; arij cry, Take alt. 
 
 Ant. Well said ; come on. — 
 
 Call forth my household servants ; let's to night 
 
 Enter Servants. 
 Be bounteous at our meal.— Give me tliy hand. 
 Thou hast been rightly lioni'st ;— so hast thou ;— _ 
 And thou,— and thou,— and thou;— you have serv'd 
 
 me well, 
 And kings have been your fellows. 
 
 Cleo. What means this? 
 
 Eno. 'Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow 
 shoots [Aside. 
 
 Out of the mind. 
 
 Ant. And Ihou art honest too. 
 
 I wish I could be made so many men ; 
 And all of you clapp'd ui> together in 
 An Antony ; that I might do you service, 
 So good as you have done. 
 
 Sen: The gods forbid ! • 
 
 Ant. Well.mygood fellows.walton me to-night: 
 Scant not my cups; and make as much of me. 
 As when my empire was your fellow too. 
 And suffer'd ray command. 
 
 Cleo. What does he mean i 
 
 Eno. To make his followers weep. 
 
 Ant. Tend me to-night; 
 
 May be, it is the period of your duty : 
 Haply, you shall not see me more; or if, 
 A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow 
 you'll serve another master. I look on you. 
 As one that takes his leave. Mnie honest friends, 
 I turn you not away ; but, like a master 
 * Tiiko advantase. 
 
 Married to yonr good service, stay till death : 
 Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, 
 And the gods yields you for't ! 
 
 Eno. What mean you, sir, 
 
 To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; 
 And 1, an ass. am onion-eye; for shame I 
 Translbrm us not to women. 
 
 Ant. Ho, ho, ho! 
 
 Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus ! 
 Grace grow where those drops fall ! My hearty 
 
 friends, 
 You take me in too dolorous a sense: 
 I spake to you fi>r your comfort : did desire you 
 To burn this night with torches: Know, my hearts, 
 I hope well of to-morrow ; and will lead you. 
 Where rather I'll expect victorious life. 
 Than death and honor. Let's to supper; come, 
 .\nd drown consideration. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \U.— Before tlie Palace. 
 Enter two Soldiers to titeir Guard. 
 
 1 Soil. lirolher.good night: to-morrow is the day. 
 
 2 Sold. 11 will determine one way : tare you well. 
 Heard you of nothing strange about the streets ? 
 
 1 Soil. Nothing : What news ? 
 
 2 SoM. Belike, 'tis but a rumor: 
 Good-night to you. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, sir, good-night. 
 
 Enter two other Soldiers. 
 
 2 Sold. Soldiers, 
 Have careful watch. 
 
 3 Sold. And you : Good-night, good-night. 
 
 [ The first two place tlienisclves at 
 tkiir Posts. 
 
 4 S(dd. Here wc : [Tlutj take tfieir Pests.] and 
 
 if to-morrow 
 Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope 
 Our landmen will stand up. 
 
 3 Soil. 'Tis a brave army, 
 And full of purpose. 
 
 Musi£ of Hauthmjs under tlie Stage. 
 
 4 Sidd. Peace, what noise ? 
 
 1 Sold. List, list! 
 
 2 Soil. Hark! 
 
 1 Sold. Music i' the air. 
 
 3 Sold. Under the earth. 
 
 4 Sold. It signs' well, 
 Does'l not? 
 
 3 Soil. No. 
 
 1 Sol'l. Peace, I say. What should this mean ? 
 
 2 Sold. 'TisthegodHerculcs,whomAntonylov'il, 
 Now leaves him. 
 
 1 Solil. Walk; let's see if other watchmen 
 Do hear what we do. [They alvancetoanidfier Post. 
 
 2 Soil. How now, masters ! 
 
 Sol I. How now ! 
 
 How now ? do you hear this? 
 
 [Several speaking together. 
 1 Sold. Ay ; Is't not strange ? 
 
 3 Sid-l. Do you hear, masters ? do you hear ! 
 
 1 Soil. Follow the noise so far as we have quarter. 
 Let's see how 'twill give oil; 
 Sold. [Several speaking.] Content: 'Tis strange. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^1 Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Antony and Cleopatra; Charmian and 
 
 others attending. 
 
 Ant. Eros ! tjiine armor, Eros ! 
 
 Cleo. Sleep a little 
 
 s Ostrich. " Kewai-d. ' Bodes, 
 
606 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Ant, No, my chuck. — Eros, come ; mine armor, 
 Eros! 
 
 Enter Eros, with Armor. 
 
 Come, my good fellow, put thine iron on ; — 
 If fortune be not ours to-day, it is 
 Because we brave her. — Come. 
 
 Clen. Nay, I'll help too. 
 
 What s this for! 
 
 Ant. Ah, let be, let be! thou art 
 
 The armorer of mv heart .-—False, false; this,this. 
 
 Cleo. Sooth, la, I'll help: Thus it must he. 
 
 Ant. Well, well; 
 
 We shall thrive now. — Seest thou, my good fellow! 
 Go, put on thy defences. 
 
 Eros, Brielly, sir. 
 
 Cleo. Is not this buckled well ! 
 
 Ant, Rarely; rarely: 
 
 He Ihat unbuckles this, till we do please 
 To dulf't^ for our repose, shall hear a storm. — 
 Thou fumblest, Eros ; and my queen's a squire 
 Jlore tights at this than thou : Despatch. — love, 
 That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and kncw'st 
 The royal occupation! thou shoulds't see 
 
 Enter an Oflicer, armei. 
 
 A workman in't. — Good-morrow to thee; wel- 
 come ; 
 Thou Inok'st like him that knows a warlike charge: 
 To business that we love, we rise bctime, 
 And go to it with delight. 
 
 1 Off. A thousand, sir. 
 Early though it be, have on their riveled trim, 
 And at the port e.\pect you. 
 
 [S/ujut. Trumpets, Flouris/i. 
 Enter otfier Officers and Soldiers. 
 
 2 Off. The morn is fair.— Good-morrow, general. 
 All. Good-morrow, general. 
 
 .'l'(/- 'Tis well blown, lads. 
 
 Tliis morning, like the spirit of a youtli 
 That means to be of note, begins betimes. — 
 So, so ; come, give me that : this way, well said. 
 Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes ol'me : 
 This is a soldier's kiss: rebukable [Kisses her. 
 And worthy shameful check it were, to stand 
 On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee, 
 Now, like a man of sleel.— 'i'ou that will fight, 
 Follow me close; I'll bring you to't.— Adieu. 
 
 [E.reiint .\n'to.vy, Eros, OtJicers, and 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Char. Please you, retire to your chamber ! 
 
 Cleo. Lead me. 
 
 He goes forth gallantly. That he and Csesar might 
 Dc'leriiiine Ihls great war in single hght! 
 Then, Antony,— But now,— Well, on. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. — Antony's Cffwjj near Alexandria. 
 
 Trumpets sound. Enter .\xton-y and Euos ; a 
 Soldier meeting tliem. 
 
 Sold. The gods make this a happy day to Antony. 
 
 Ant. 'Would. Iliou and those thy scars had once 
 preva i I'd 
 To make me fight at land ! 
 
 ^"l I. Hadsf thou done so. 
 
 The kings that have revolted, and the soldier 
 That h:is this morning left thee, would have still 
 Follow'd tliy heels. 
 
 Aiit. Who's gone this morning'! 
 
 N('/ /. Who 7 
 
 One ever near thee : Call for Enobarbus, 
 He shall not hear thee ; or from Cajsar's camp 
 Say, I am rumt <rf' thine. 
 
 A nt. ■ What say'st thou 1 
 
 Sold. Sir, 
 
 He is with Caesar. 
 
 Eros. Sir, his chests and treasure 
 
 He has not with him. 
 
 Aiit. Is lie gone 1 
 
 ^old. Most certain. 
 
 /I;//. Go, Eros, send bis treasure after; do it; 
 Delain no jot, I charge lliee: write to him 
 (I will subscribej genlle adieus and greetings: 
 ■Say, that I wish lie never find more cause 
 To change a master.— O my fortunes have 
 Corrujited honest men:— Eros, despatch. [Exeunt. 
 ■ I'ut It off. 9 Handy. 
 
 SCENE VI. — Ca;sar's Camp before Alexandria. 
 
 Flourish. Enter C,«SAn, with Agrippa, Exobarbus, 
 
 and others. 
 
 Cxs. Go forth, Agriijpa, and begin the fight : 
 Our will is, Antony be took alive ; 
 Make it so known. 
 
 Agr, Casar, I shall. [Exit Agrippa. 
 
 C^s. The time of universal peace is near : 
 Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world 
 Shall bear the olive freely. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Antony 
 
 Is come into the tield. 
 
 Ca!s. Go. charge Agrippa 
 
 Plant those that have revolted in the van, 
 Tliat .\ntony may seem to spend iiis fury 
 Upon himself. [Exeunt Cesar and his Train. 
 
 Eno. Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry, 
 On aliiiirs of .\ntony : there did persuade 
 Great Herod to incline himself to Ciesar, 
 And leave his master Antony: for this pains, 
 C.xsar hath hang'd him. Canidius, and the rest 
 That fell away, have entertainment, but 
 No honorable trust. I have done ill; 
 Of which I do accuse myself so sorely. 
 That I will joy no more. 
 
 Enter a Soldier n/ Cesar's. 
 
 Sell. Enobarbus, Antony 
 
 Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, wi;h 
 His bounty overplus: The messenger 
 Came on my guard, and at tliy tent is now. 
 Unloading of his mules. 
 
 Eno. I give it j'ou. 
 
 Sold. Mock me not, Enobarbus. 
 
 I tell you true : Best that you saled the bringer 
 Out of the host; I must attend mine office. 
 Or would have done't myself. Your emperor 
 Continues still a Jove. [Exit Soldier. 
 
 Kuo. I am alone the villain of the earth, 
 And feel I am so mo.'-.t. O .\ntony, 
 Thi.li mine of bounty, how would'^t thou have paid 
 My better service, when my turpitude 
 Thou dost so crown with gold! 'This blowsi my 
 
 heart: 
 If switt thought break it not, a swifter mean 
 Shall outstrike thought; but thouglit wilt do't,I feel. 
 I fight against Ihee ! — No: ] vvill go seek 
 Some ditch, wherein to die: the loul'st best fits 
 My latter part of life. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE \U.— Field of Battle between the Camps, 
 
 Alarums. Drums and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa 
 
 and others. 
 
 Agr, Retire, we have engaged ourselves too far: 
 C.-Bsar himself has work, and our oppression 
 Exceeds what we expected. „ .[ia-ftm^ 
 
 Alarum, Enter Antony and Scarus, wounded. 
 
 Scar, my brave emperor, this is fought indeed ! 
 Had we done so at first, we had driven them home 
 With clouts about their heads. 
 
 Ant. Thou bleed'st apace. 
 
 Sear. I had a wound here that was like a T, 
 But now 'tis made an H. 
 
 Ajit. They do retire. 
 
 Scar. We'll beat 'em into beiich-holes; I have yet 
 Room lor six scotches^ more. 
 Enter Eros. 
 
 Eros. They are beaten, sir; and our advantage 
 serves 
 For a fair victory. 
 
 Scar. Let us score their backs. 
 
 And snatch 'em up, as we lake hares, behind; 
 'Tis sport to maul a runner. 
 
 A7it. I will reward thee 
 
 Once for thy sprilely comfort, and len-lold 
 For thy good valor. Come tliee on. 
 
 Scar, I'll halt after. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE \IU.— Under the (ro//.s n/ Alexandria. 
 .ilaruni. Enter Antony, marching; Scarl's and 
 Forces, 
 .int. We have beat him to his cainp : Run one 
 belbre, 
 And let the queen knowofour gtiests. — To-morrow, 
 liefore the sun shall see us, we'll spill the blood 
 That b.is to-day escaped. I tliank jou all ; 
 * Swells. 4 Cuts. 
 
Scene X. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 607 
 
 For doughty^-handcd are you ; and have fouRht 
 Not as yon serv'd the cause, but as it had been 
 Kach man's like mine ; you have shown yourselves 
 
 all Hectors. 
 Enter the city, clip' your wives, your friends. 
 Tell them your ti?ats; whilst they with joyful tears 
 Wash the congeahnent froju your wounds, and kiss 
 The lionor'd gashes whole.— Give me thy hand ; 
 
 [Tu SCARCS. 
 
 Enter Cleopatua, attended. 
 To this great fairyS I'll commend thy acts, ^ 
 RIaku her thanks bless thee.— thou day o the 
 
 world. 
 Chain rnincarm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, 
 ThroUKh proof of harness^ to my heart, and there 
 Ride on the pants Iridinphing. 
 
 Cleo. Lord of lords! 
 
 O infinite virtue! com'st thou smiling from 
 The world's great snare uiicaught! 
 
 Ant. My nightingale, 
 
 We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! 
 
 though grey 
 Do something mingle with our brown ; yet have we 
 A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can 
 Get goal ibr goal of youth. Behold this man ; 
 Commend unto his lips tliy favoring hand: — 
 Kiss it, my warrior:— He iiath fought to-day. 
 As if a god, in hate of mankind, had 
 Destroyed in such a shape. 
 
 Cteo. ril give thee, friend, 
 
 An armor all of gold : it was a Icing's. 
 
 Ant. He has deserv'd it, were it carbiincled 
 Like lioly Phosbus' car.— Give me thy hand; 
 Through Alexandria make a jolly march ; 
 Dear our hack'd targets like the men that owe' 
 
 them. 
 Had our great palace the capacity 
 To camp this liost, we all would sup together; 
 AikI drink carouses to the next day's fate, 
 Whi.il promises royal peril.— Trumpeters, 
 Willi brazen din blast you the city's car; 
 M.ike mingle with our'rattling tambourines; 
 Tliat heaven and earth may strike their sounds to- 
 
 getherr 
 Applauding our approach. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IX.— Csesar's Camp. 
 Sentinels on tlieir Post. Enter Enobarbus. 
 
 1 Sid l. If we be not reliev'd within this hour. 
 We must return to the court of guard : The night 
 Is shiny ; and, they say, we shall embattle 
 
 By the second hour i' the morn. 
 
 '2 Sold. This last day was 
 
 A shrewd one to us. 
 
 Klin. 0, bear me witness, night, — 
 
 3 Sid- 1. What man is tliis 1 
 
 2 Sol I. Stand close, and list to him. 
 E'lo. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, 
 
 When men revolted shall upon record 
 Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did 
 Before thy face repent! — 
 
 1 Sidd. Enobarbus! 
 
 3 Sold. Peace; 
 Hark further. 
 
 Eno. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy. 
 The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me: 
 That life, a very rebel to my will. 
 May hang no longer on me: Throw my heart 
 Against the Hint and hardness of my lault ; 
 Which, lilting dried with grief, will break to powder. 
 And tiiiish all tbul thoughts. O Antony, 
 Nobler tluin my revolt is inlamous. 
 Forgive me in thine own particular; 
 But let the world rank me in register 
 A master-leaver, and a fugitive: 
 O Antony ! Antony ! [Dks. 
 
 2 Soil. Let's speak 
 To him. 
 
 1 S/it !. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks 
 May concern Ca;sar. 
 3'Soll. Let's do so. But he sleeps. 
 
 1 Sold. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his 
 Was never yet for sleeping. 
 
 2 Sold. Go we to him. 
 
 3 Sold, Awake, awake, sir ; speak to us. 
 
 2 Sold.. Hear you, sir ? 
 
 ■ Bravo. * Embrace. 
 
 • Roauty united with pnwer, was tbe popular character- 
 istic of faiiies. « Armor of proof. 'Owe. 
 
 1 Sold. The hand of death hath raught-' hun. 
 Hark, the drums [Drums ofur off. 
 
 Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him 
 To the court of guard : he is of note : our hour 
 Is fully out. 
 
 3 Sold. Come on, tlien ; 
 He may recover yet. {Exeunt with tlie Body. 
 
 SCENE X.— Between tfie two Camps. 
 Enter Antoxt aiid Scarus, wUli Forces, march- 
 ing. 
 Ant. Their preparation is to-day by sea; 
 We please them not by land. 
 Scar. For both, my lord 
 
 Ant. I would, they'd tight i' the tire, or in the air, 
 We'd hght there too. But this it is; our foot 
 Upon the hills adjoining to the city. 
 Shall stay witli us : order tor sea is given ; 
 They have put forth the haven: Further on. 
 Where their appointment we may best discover, 
 And look on their endeavor. [Exeunt, 
 
 Enter C.tSAR and Ais Fnrcex, marctiing. 
 Cscs. But' being charged, we will be still by land, 
 Wliich, as I take t, we shall; for his best force 
 Is Ibrtli to man his galleys. To the vales, 
 And hold our best advantage. [Exeunt, 
 
 Re-enter Antony and Scakcs. 
 Ant. Yet they're not join'd: Where yonder pine 
 does stand, 
 I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word 
 Straight, how 'tis like to go. [Exit. 
 
 Sciir. Swallows have built 
 
 In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers 
 Say, they know not, — they cannot tell : — look 
 
 grimly, 
 And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony 
 Is valiant and dejected ; and, by starts. 
 His fretted Ibrtunes give liiiii hope, and fear, 
 Of wliat he has, and has not. 
 
 Alarum ofur off, as at a Sea-Figlit. 
 lie-enter Axtosy. 
 Ant. All is lost; 
 
 This Ibul Egyptian hatli betray'd me: 
 My fleet hatli yielded lo the liie; and yonder 
 Ttiey cast their cajis U]}, and carouse together 
 Like friends long lost. — Triple-tuni'd whore!' 'tis 
 
 thou 
 Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart 
 Makes only wars on thee. — Bid them all rly ; 
 For when I am revenged upon my charm, 
 I have done all: — Bid tliem all fly, be gone. 
 
 [ Exit Scarus. 
 O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more : 
 Fortune and Antony part here ; even liere 
 Do wesliake hands. — All come to this ! — Theliearts 
 Tliat spaiiiel'd me at lieeis, to whom I gave 
 Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets 
 On blossoming Ca'sar; aiid tJiis pine is bark'd, 
 That over-tojip'd them all. Betray'd I am: 
 O tliis fiilse soul of Egypt ! this grave ciiarm. 
 Whose eye beck'd Ibrtli my wars, and call'd them 
 
 home; 
 Whose bosom was my crownet,^ my chief end. 
 Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,^ 
 Beguil'd me to the very lieart of loss. — 
 What, Eros, Eros ! 
 
 Enter Cleopatra. 
 
 Ah! thou spell! Avaunt ! 
 Cleo. Why is my lord enraged against liis love] 
 Ant. Vanish : or I shall give thee thy deserving, 
 And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take tiice 
 Ami hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians ; 
 Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot 
 ()f all thy sex ; most monster-like, be shown 
 For poor'st diminutives,^ to dolts; and let 
 Patient Octavia plough thy visage up 
 With her iirepared nails. [ExU Cleo.] 'Tis well 
 
 thou'rt gone, 
 If it be well to live: But better 'twere 
 Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death 
 Might have prevented many. — Eros, ho ! — 
 
 • Itfatbfd. » Without. 
 
 • CU'Opatra first bel'-D^ed to .T alius Caisar, theu to An- 
 tony, and now, as Autouy supposes, to Augustus. 
 
 • Finish. 
 
 I A cheating game, at present named priding at tlie belt. 
 
 • For the smallest piece of money. 
 
608 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 The shirt of IVessus is upon me: Teach me, 
 Alcides, tliou mine ancestor, thy rage: 
 Let nie lodge Lichas^ on the horns o' the moon; 
 And with tiTose hands that grasp'd the heaviest club, 
 Sul)due my worthiest self. The witch sliall die; 
 To tile Roman boy slic hath sold me, and I fall 
 Under this plot: She dies Ibr't. — Eros, ho ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE XI. — Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mahdia.n. 
 
 Cteo. Help me, my women! 0, he is more mad 
 Than TclamonS for his shield; the boarof Thessaly 
 Was never so emboss'd.'' 
 
 C/iur. To the monument; 
 
 There lock yourself, and send him word you are 
 
 dead. 
 The soul and hody rive not more in parting, 
 Than greatness going otll 
 
 CVco. To the monument: — 
 
 Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; 
 Say, tliat the last I sjjoke was, Antony, 
 AntI word it, pr^ythee, piteously; Hence, 
 Mardian; and bring me how he takes my death. — 
 To tlie monument. [Exeu?it. 
 
 SCENE XU.—Anot/ier Room. 
 Enter Antony and Ekos. 
 
 Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st mel 
 
 Eros. Ay, noble lord. 
 
 Ant. Sometime we see a cloud (hat's dragonish; 
 A vajior. sometime, like a bear, or lion, 
 A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
 A Ibrked mountain, or blue promontory 
 With trees upon't, tliat nod unto the world, 
 And mock our eyes with air : Thou hast seen these 
 
 signs; 
 They are black vesper's pageants. 
 
 Eros. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ant. That which is now a horse, even with a 
 Iliought. 
 Tlic rack- dislinms; and makes it indistinct. 
 As water is in water. 
 
 Eros. It does, my lord. 
 
 Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is 
 Even sucli a body : here I am Antony ; 
 Yet cannot liold this visil)le shape, my knave. 
 I made tliese wars for Egypt; and the queen, — 
 Whose heart, I thought. 1 had, for she had mine ; 
 Which, whilst it was mine, liad annex'd unto't 
 A million more, now lost, — she, Ero.s, has 
 Pack'd cards with Ca-sar, and I'alse play'd my glory 
 Unto an enemy's triumph. — 
 Niiy, weep not, gentle Eros ; there is left us 
 Ourselves to end ourselves. — 0, thy vile lady ! 
 
 Enter Mardian. 
 She has robbed me of my sword. 
 
 il/'"'. No, Antony : 
 
 My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled 
 Witli thuic entirely. 
 
 Ant. Hence, saucy eunuch ; peace : 
 
 She hath betray'd me. and shall die the death. 
 
 Mar. Death of one person can be paid but once; 
 And Ihat she hasdiscliarged : What thou vvouldst do. 
 Is done imto Ihy hand: the last she spake 
 Was. Antony! most noble Antony! 
 Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 
 The name of Antony : it was divided 
 Between her heart and lips: she render'd life, 
 Tliv name so buried in her. 
 
 Ant. Dead-then? 
 
 ^I'lr. Dead. 
 
 Ant. Eros, unarm; the long day's task is done. 
 And we must sleep:— That thou dcpart'st hence 
 
 saltj. 
 Docs pay thy labor richly: Go.— Off, pluck oil;— 
 
 [Ex-it Makdian. 
 The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep 
 The liatlery from my heart. 0, cleave, my sides! 
 Heart, once be stronger Ihan tliy continent,' 
 Crack tliy frail case!— Apace, Eros, apace.— 
 No more a soldier :— liruiscd pieces, go; 
 You ha\e been nobly borne.— From me a while. 
 , .,. , , , [ExUKaos. 
 
 I wdl ertake thee, Cleopatra, and 
 
 • Th- boy tb.nt brouflit the ptiisom-il shirt to Hercules. 
 
 • -Viax Tcl.imon for Ihi- sliiild of Ailiilles. 
 
 •• Fo.iniin;; at the inoiUli, » Tha llcothig clouas. 
 
 » i. c. The thiug that cuutains thee. 
 
 Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now 
 All length is torture: — Since the torch is out. 
 Lie down, and stray no further : Now all labor 
 Mars wdiat it does : yea, very force entangles 
 Itself with strength: Seal then, and all is" done. — 
 Eros! I come, my queen: — Eros! Stay for me: 
 Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in 
 
 hand. 
 And with our sprightlyport make the ghosts gaze: 
 Dido and her ^'Eneas shall want troops. 
 And all the hauiit be ours. — Come, Eros, Eros! 
 
 Re-enter Eros. 
 
 Eros. What would my lord 1 
 
 Ant. Since Cleopatra died, 
 
 I have liv'd in such dishonor, that the gods 
 Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword 
 Quarter'a the world, and o'er green Neptune's hacl" 
 With ships made cities, condemn myself, to lack 
 The courage of a woman; less noble mind 
 Than she, whicli, by her death, our Ca!sar tells, 
 I am conqueror of nnjself. Tliou art sworn, Eros, 
 That, when the exigent should come, (which now 
 Is come, indeed,) when I should see behind me 
 The inevitable prosecution of 
 Disgrace and horror, that, on my command. 
 Thou then wouldst kill me: do"t; the time is 
 
 come: 
 Thou strik'st not me, 'tis Ca;sar thou defeat'st. 
 Put color in tliy cheek. 
 
 Eros. The gods withhold me ! 
 
 Shall I do that, which all the Partliian darts, 
 Though enemy, lost aim, and could not ] 
 
 Ant. Eros, 
 
 Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome, and see 
 Thy master thus with picach'd' arms, bending down 
 His corrigible neck, his liice subdued 
 To penetrative shame ; whilst the wheel'd seat 
 Of Ibrtunatc Cffsar, drawn before him, branded 
 His baseness that ensued 1 
 
 Eros. I would not see't. 
 
 Ant. Come then ; for with a wound I must be 
 cured. 
 Draw that thy honest sword, which tliou hast worn 
 I\Iost useful lor tliy country. 
 
 Eros. 0, sir, pardon me. 
 
 Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou 
 not then 
 To do this wiien I bade thee? Do it at once; 
 Or thy precedent services arc all 
 But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come. 
 
 Eros. Turn from me then that noble countenance, 
 Wherein the worship- of the whole wi)rld lies. 
 
 Ant. Lo thee ! [Turning from him. 
 
 Eros. My sword is drawn. 
 
 Ant. Then let it do at once 
 
 The thing why thou hast drawn it. 
 
 Eros. My dear master. 
 
 My captain, and my emperor ! let me say, 
 Beliire 1 strike this bloody stroke. Farewell. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis said, man ; — and tarewell. 
 
 Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now ? 
 
 Ant. Now, Eros. 
 
 Eros. Why, there then :— [Falls on his sword. 
 Thus do I escape the sorrow 
 Of Antony's death. [Dies. 
 
 Ant. Thrice nobler than mjself! 
 
 Thou teachest me, valiant Eros, what 
 I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and 
 
 Eros 
 Have, liy (heir brave instruction, got upon me 
 A nobleness in recorit : lUit I wilfbo 
 A bridegroom in my death, and run into't 
 As to a lover's bed. Come then ; and, Eros, 
 Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus 
 
 [Falling on hi.'i stvord. 
 I learn 'd of thee. How ! not yet dtad ! nut dead 1 — 
 Tlie guard !— lio ! — O, despatch me. 
 
 Enter Dercetas and Guard. 
 
 1 Guard. What's the noise ? 
 Ant. I have done my work ill, li-iends : O, make 
 
 an end 
 Of what 1 have begun. 
 
 2 Cuard. The star is fallen. 
 1 Cuard. And tfrne is at his period. 
 
 All. Alas, and woe ! 
 
 Ant. Let him that loves me strike me dead. 
 I Guard. Not I. 
 
 > Folded. • Dignity. 
 
Scene XIII. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 609 
 
 2 Guard. Nor I. , .• j 
 
 3 Guard. Nor any one. [Exeunt Guard. 
 Der. Thy death 'and fortunes bid tliy Ibllowers 
 
 fly. 
 Tliis sword but shown to Cresar, with this tidings, 
 Shall enter me with him. 
 
 Enter DioMEDES. 
 
 Di.o. Where's Antony 1 
 Der. There, Diomed, there. 
 
 Bin. Lives he "! 
 
 Wilt thou not answer, man? [Exit Dehcetas. 
 
 Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, 
 and give me 
 SulTicient strokes for death. 
 
 Bio. Most absolute lord, 
 
 My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. 
 Ant. When did she send thee 1 
 Dio. Ndw, my lord. 
 
 Ajyt. Where is she \ 
 
 Dio. Lock'd in her monument. She had a pro- 
 phesyinj; fear 
 Of what liath eome to pass : for when she saw 
 (Which never sliall he found) you did suspect 
 She had dispos'd wilh Ca>sar, and that your rase 
 Would not be purjj'd, she sent you word she was 
 
 dead ; 
 But, fearins since how it might work, hath sent 
 Me to proclaim the truth ; and I am come, 
 I dread, too late. 
 Ayit. Ton late, good Diomed :— Call my guard, I 
 
 pr'ythee. 
 Dii). What ho! the emperor's guard! The 
 guard, what ho ! 
 Come, your lord calls. 
 
 Enter some of the Guard. 
 Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra 
 Itides : 
 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. 
 1 Guard. Woe are we, sir, you may not live to 
 wear 
 All your true followers out. 
 All. Most heavy day ! 
 
 Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp 
 fate 
 To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome 
 Which comes to punish us, and we punish it. 
 Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: 
 1 have led you ott ; carry me now, good friends, 
 And have my thanks for all. 
 
 {Exeunt, bearing An'tony. 
 
 SCENE XIII.— .4 Monument. 
 
 Enter above, Cleopatra, Ciiarmian, a7id Iras. 
 
 Cleo. O Charmian, I will never go from hence. 
 
 V/iar. Be comforted, dear madam. 
 
 Cleo. No, I will not : 
 
 All strange and terrible events are welcome, 
 But comtbrt~s we despise ; our size of sorrow, 
 Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great 
 
 Enter Diosiedes. 
 As that which makes it. — How now ^ Is he dead'! 
 
 Dio. His death's ujion him, but not dead. 
 Look out o' the other side your monument, 
 His guard h.ave brought him thither. 
 
 Enter Antony, borne by tlie Guard. 
 
 Clen. O thou sun, 
 
 B jrn the great sphere thou mov'st in ! — darkling 
 
 stand 
 The varying shore o' the world ! — O Antony ! 
 Antony, Antony! — Charmian, help; help, tras; 
 ilelp, friends below: Let's draw him hither. 
 
 int. Peace: 
 
 Not Cfesar s valor hath o'erthrown Antony, 
 But Antony's hath triuinph'd on itself 
 
 C7fo. So it sliould be, that none but Antony 
 Sliouiti conquer Antony ; but woe 'tis so ! 
 
 Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only 
 I here importune death awhile, until 
 Of many thousand kisses the poor last 
 I lav upon thy lips.— 
 
 Cleo. I dare not. dear, 
 
 (Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare.not. 
 Lest I be taken : not the imperious show 
 Of the full-fortuned Ca?sar ever shall 
 30 
 
 Be brooch'd' with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, 
 
 have 
 Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe : 
 Yo'ir wife Octavia, with her modest eyes. 
 And still conclusion,^ shall acquire no honor 
 Demuring upon ine. — But come, come, Antony, — 
 Help me, my women, — we must draw thee up; — 
 Assist, good friends. 
 Ant. 0. quick, or I am gone. 
 
 Cleo. Here s sport indeed !— How heavy weighs 
 my lord ! 
 Our streuiith is all gone into heaviness, 
 Tliat makes the weight: Had I great Juno's power, 
 The stroiig-wing'd Mercury should letch thee up. 
 And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little, — 
 Wishers were ever fools;— O, come, come, come ; 
 
 {Theij draw Anto:;y up. 
 And welcome, welcome ! d;e, where thou hast liv'd: 
 Quicken' wilh kissing ; had my lips that powtT, 
 Thus would I wear them out. 
 All. A hea^T sight! 
 
 Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying : 
 Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. 
 
 Clen. No. let me speak ; and let me rail so high. 
 That the filsc housewife Fortune break her wheel, 
 Pro\'oked by my oll'eiice. 
 
 Ant. One word, sweet queen : 
 
 Of C.Tsar, seek your honor, with your safety.— O ! 
 Clen. They do not go together. 
 Ant. Gentle, hear me ; 
 
 None about Ca-isar trust, but Proculeius. 
 
 Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust: 
 None about Ca>sar. 
 
 Ant. The miserable change now at my end. 
 Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts, 
 In feeding them with those my Ibrmer fortunes 
 Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o' the world, 
 The noblest : and do now not basely die, 
 Nor cowardly; put oil' my helmet to 
 My countryman, a Roman, by a Rom.an 
 Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my sjiirit is going; 
 I can no more. \_Bies 
 
 Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't die \ 
 
 Hast liiou no care of me ! Shall I abide 
 In this dull worlil, wliioli in thy absence is 
 No better than a stye ? — O, see, my women. 
 The crown o' the earth doth melt : — I\Iy lord ! — 
 O, wither'd is the garland of the war, 
 The soldier's pole is fallen ; young boys, and girls, 
 Arc level now with men ; the odds is gone, 
 And there is nothing left remarkable 
 Beneath the visiting moon. [Site faints. 
 
 Char. O quietness, lady ! 
 
 Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign. 
 Char. Lady,— • 
 
 Ira.'!. Madam, — 
 
 Char. madam, madam, madam ! 
 Iras. Royal Egypt! 
 
 Empress ! 
 C/iur. Peace, peace. Iras. 
 Cko. No more, but e'en a woman; and com- 
 mandtHl 
 By such poor passion as the maid tliat milks. 
 And does the meanest chares.'' — It were for me 
 To throw my scei>tre at the injurious gods; 
 To tell them that this world did equal theirs. 
 Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught ; 
 Patience is sottish; and impatience does 
 Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin, 
 To rush into the secret house of death. 
 Ere deatii dare come to us ? — How do you, women ? 
 What, what] goodclieer! Why, how now, Char- 
 mian ! 
 My noble girls ! — Ah, women, women, look ! 
 Our lamp is spent, it's out: — Good sirs, take 
 heart: — [To tlie Guard, below. 
 
 We'll bury him: and then what's brave, what's 
 
 noble. 
 Let's do it afier the high Roman feshion. 
 And make death jiroud to take us. Come away : 
 This case of that luige spirit now is cold. 
 Ah, women, women ! come ; wo have no friend 
 But resolution, and the briefi?st end. 
 
 [Exeunt; those above bearing ojf 
 Antony's Body. 
 
 8 Ornamented. 
 » Revive. 
 
 * Sedate determination. 
 6 T.isk-work. 
 
610 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Csesar's Camp before Alexandria. 
 
 Enter C/Esab, Aorippa, Dolabella, Mecbnas, 
 Gallus, Pruclleus, and others. 
 
 Caes. Go to him, Dolabella. bid him yield ; 
 Being so frustrate, tell him, ho moclis us by 
 The pauses that he makes. 
 
 Dol. Ciesar, 1 shall. {ExU Dolabella. 
 
 Enter Dercetas, mitli the Sword of Astont. 
 Cses. Wherefore is that ! and what art thou, that 
 dar'st 
 Appear thus to us? 
 
 Der. lam call'd Dercetas ; 
 
 Murk Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy 
 Best to be serv'd : whilst lie stood up and spoke, 
 He was my master ; and I wore my life. 
 To spend upon his haters : If thou please 
 To take inc to thee, as I was to hint 
 I'il be to Ciesar; if thou pleasest not, 
 I yield thee up my life. 
 
 Cicn. What is't thou say'stl 
 
 Her. I say, Csesar, Antony is dead. 
 
 Cff.s.The breaking of so greatathini; should make 
 A greater crack : The round world shouldhave shook 
 Lions into civil streets. 
 
 And citizens to tlieir dens.— The death of Antony 
 Is not a single doom ; in the name lay 
 A moiety of the world. 
 
 Oer. He is dead, Ca;sar ; 
 
 Xot by a public minister of justice. 
 Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand, 
 Which writ his honor in the acts it did, 
 Haih, with the courage which the heart did lend it, 
 Sjilitted the heart. — Tliis is his sword; 
 I robb'd his wound of it; behold it slain'd 
 With his most noble blood. 
 
 r'a'.'. Look you sad, friends 1 
 
 The gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings 
 To wash the eyes of kings. 
 
 -■Ip'". And strange it is. 
 
 That nature must compel us to lament 
 Our most persisted deeds. 
 
 Mee. His taints and honors 
 
 Waged equal with him. 
 
 Agr. A rarer spirit never 
 
 Pid steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us 
 Some faults to make us men. Ciesar is touch'd. 
 
 n/ec. When such a spacious mirror's set before 
 him, 
 }Ie needs 'must see himself. 
 
 Cies. O Antony ! 
 
 I have follow'd thee to this:— But we do lance 
 Diseases in our bodies : I must perforce 
 Have shown to thee such a declining day. 
 Or look on tliine ; we could nut stall together 
 ■ In the whole world : but yet le', me lament, 
 AVith tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts, 
 That thou, iny brother, my competitor 
 In top of all design, my mate in empire. 
 Friend and companion in the front of war. 
 The arm of mine own body, and the heart 
 "\Vherc mine his' thoughts did kindle,— that our 
 
 stars, 
 Unreconciliable, should divide 
 Our equalness to this. — Ile:ir me, good friends, — 
 But 1 will tell yoivat some meeter season ; 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 The business of this man looks out of him, 
 We'll hear him what he says. — Whence are you ! 
 
 Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my 
 mistress, 
 Confin'd in all she has. her monument, 
 Of thy intents desires instruction : 
 Tliatslie preparedly may Irame herself 
 To the way she's loiced to. 
 
 Ca:.t. Bid her have good heart; 
 
 She soon shall know of us. by some of ours. 
 How honorable and how kindly we 
 Determine lor her : lor Cajsar cannot live 
 To be ungentle. i 
 
 Mess. So the gods prcser-e thee ! [Exit. 
 
 1 Its. I 
 
 Cass. Come hither, Proculeius : Go, and say. 
 We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts 
 The quality of her passion shall require ; 
 Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke 
 She do delcat us: for her life in Rome 
 Would be eternal in our triumph : Go, 
 And, with your speediest, bring us vvhE t she says, 
 And how you find of her. 
 
 I'ro. Ca<sar. I shall. [Exit PnocrLEius. 
 
 Cws. Gallus, go you along.— Where's Dolabella, 
 To second Proculeius ! [Exit Galh;s. 
 
 Agr. Mec. Dolabella ! 
 
 Cws. Let him alone, for I remember now 
 How he's employed ; he shall in time be ready. 
 Go with me to my lent ; where you shall see 
 How hardly I was drawn into this war; 
 How calm and gentle I proceeded still 
 In all my writings: Go with me and see 
 What I can show in this. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE II.— Alexandria. A Roam in the 
 Muniinient. 
 
 Enter Cleopatka, CHArMiAN, and Iras. 
 
 Cleo. My desolation does begin to make 
 A better life : 'Tis paltry to be Cssar ; 
 Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave,* 
 A minister of her will ; And it is great 
 To do that thing that ends all other deeds; 
 Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change; 
 Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung. 
 The beggar's nurse and C:psar's. 
 Enter, to the Gates of the Monument, Procu- 
 leius, GALLts, and Soldiers. 
 
 Pro. Ca?sar sends greeting to the queen of Egypt ; 
 And bids thee study on what fair demands 
 Thou mean'st to have hiin grant thee. 
 
 Cleo. [ Within.] What's thy name ' 
 
 Pro. My name is Proculeius. 
 
 Cleo. [Within.] Antony 
 
 Did tell me of you, bade me trust j ou ; but 
 I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd, 
 That have no use for trusting. If your master 
 Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him, 
 That majesty, to keep decorum, must 
 No less beg than a kingdom : if he please 
 To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son. 
 He gives mc so much of mine own, as I 
 Will kneel to hiin with thanks. 
 
 Pro. Be of good cheer , 
 
 You are fallen into a princely hand, fear nothing: 
 Make your liiU relerence treely to my lord, 
 Who is so full of grace, that it flows over 
 On all that need : Let me report to him 
 Your sweet dependency ; and you shall find 
 A conqueror, tliat will pray in aid lor kindness. 
 Where he Ibr grace is kiieel'd to. 
 
 Cleo. [Within.] Pray you, tell him 
 
 I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him 
 The greatnes.s he has got. I hourly learn 
 A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly 
 Look him i' the face. 
 
 Pro. This I'll report, dear lady. 
 
 Have comfort ; for 1 know, your plight is pitied 
 Of hiin that caus'd it. 
 
 Gat. You see how easily she may be surpris'n ; 
 [Here Procvlehs, and two if the Guard, 
 ascend the Monument by a Ladder ]datcd 
 against a Window, anit'having de.vcndeil, 
 eome behind CLEOPATn.\. Some tf the Guard 
 vnbar and open the Gates. 
 Guard her till Csesar come. 
 
 [To Proculeii's and the Guard. Exit 
 
 GALLUa. 
 
 Iras. Royal queen ! 
 
 Char. () Cleopatra ! thou art taken, queen I — 
 
 V .eo. Quick, quick, good hands. 
 
 [Drawing a Dagger. 
 Pro. Hold, worthy lady, hold : 
 
 [Seizes and disarms her. 
 Do not yourself such wrong, wlio are in this 
 Rehev'd, but not betray'd. 
 
 • Servant. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 611 
 
 Cleo. What, of death loo, 
 
 That rids our dogs of languish 1 
 
 Pro. Cleopatra, 
 
 Do not abuse my master's bounty, by 
 The undoing of yourself: let Ifie world see 
 His nobleness well acted, wliich your death 
 Will never let come forth. 
 
 Cleo- W^herc art thou, death 1 
 
 Come hither, come ! come, come, and take a queen 
 Worth many babes and beggars ! 
 
 Pro. O temperance, lady ! 
 
 Cleo. Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir; 
 If idle talk will once be necessary, 
 I'll not sleep neither: This mortal house I'll ruin, 
 DoCsEsar what he can. Know, sir, that I 
 Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court; 
 Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye 
 Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up. 
 And show me to the shouting varletry^ 
 Of censuring Rome \ Rather a ditch in Egypt 
 Be gentle grave to me ! rather on Nilus' mud 
 Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies 
 Blow me into abhorring! rather make 
 My country's high pyramides my gibbet, 
 A.nd hang me up in chains ! 
 
 Pro. You do extend 
 
 These thoughts of horror further than >ou shall 
 Find cause ni Ca;sar. 
 
 Elder Dolabella. 
 
 Dol. Proculeius, 
 
 What thou hast done thy master Cresar knows, 
 And he hath sent for tliee: as lor the queen, 
 I'll take her to my guard. 
 
 Pro. So, Dolabella, 
 
 It shall content me best : be gentle to her. — 
 To CsBsar I will speak what you shall please, 
 
 [To Cleopatra. 
 If you'll employ me to him. 
 
 Cleo. Say, I would die. 
 
 \Exeiint Proculeius and Soldiers. 
 
 Dol. Most noble empress, you have heard of me \ 
 
 Cleo. I cannot tell. 
 
 Dol. Assuredly, you know me. 
 
 Cleo. No matfer, sir, what I have heard or known. 
 You laugh, when boys, or women, tell their dreams, 
 Is't not your trick ! 
 
 BoL I understand not, madam. 
 
 Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor An- 
 tony ; — 
 O, such anuiher sleep, that I might see 
 But such another man ! 
 
 Dot. If it might please you, — 
 
 Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein 
 stuck 
 A sun, and moon ; which kept their course, and 
 
 lighted 
 The little O, the earth. 
 
 Vol. Most sovereign creature, — 
 
 Cko. His legs bestrid the ocean: his rearM arm 
 Crested the world : his voice was propertied 
 As all the tuned spheres, and that to Iriends; 
 But when he meant to'quail' and shake t!ie orb. 
 He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
 There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, 
 That grew the more by reaping : His delights 
 Were dolphin-like ; they sJiow'd his back above 
 The element they liv'd in : In his livery 
 Walk'd crowns, and crow nets; realms and islands 
 
 were 
 As plates- dropp'd from his pocket. 
 
 Dol. Cleopatra,— 
 
 CUo. Think you, there was, or might be, such 
 a man 
 As this I dream'd of? 
 
 Dol. Gentle madam, no. 
 
 Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. 
 But, if there be, or ever were one such, 
 It's past tJie size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff 
 To vie strange forms with fancy ; yet, to imagine 
 An Antony, were nature*s piece *gainst fancy 
 Condemning shadows quite. 
 
 Dol. Hear me, good macr^^Ti : 
 
 Your loss is as yourself, great : and you bear if 
 As answering to the weight : Would I might never 
 O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel. 
 By the rebound of yours, a giicf that shoots 
 My very heart at root. 
 
 • Kabble. 
 
 ' Crush. 
 
 5 Silver money. 
 
 Cleo., I thank you, sir. 
 
 Know you, what Caesar means to do with me \ 
 
 Dot. 1 am loalli to tellyou what I would you knew. 
 
 Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir, — 
 
 Dol. Though he be honorable, — 
 
 Clto. He'll lead me then in triumph \ 
 
 Dol. Madam, he will ; 
 
 I know it. 
 
 \^lVithi7^.] Make way there, — Csesar 
 
 Enter C,*:sar, Gallus, Proculeius, Mec.enas, 
 Seleucus, G«(/ Attendants. 
 
 Cses. Which is the queen 
 
 Of Kgypt "! 
 
 Dol. *Tis the emperor, madam. 
 
 [Cleoi'Atra kneels. 
 
 Cws. Aris^, 
 
 You shall not kneel : — 
 I pray you, rise ; rise, Egypt. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, the gods 
 
 Will have it thus ; my master and my lord 
 I must obey. 
 
 Cies. Take to you no hard thoughts : 
 
 The record of what injuries you did us. 
 Though written in our flesJi, we shall remember 
 As tilings but done by chance. 
 
 Cleo. Sole sir o' the world, 
 
 I cannot project^ mine own cause so well 
 To make it clear; but do confess, I have 
 Been laden with like frailties, which before 
 Have often shamed our sex. 
 
 Cacs. Cleopatra, know, 
 
 We will extenuate rather than enfurce : 
 If you ajiply yourself to our intents, 
 (Which towards you are most gentle,) you shall find 
 A beneht in this change; but if you sct-k 
 To lay on me a cruelty, by taking 
 Antony's course, you thall bereave yourself 
 Of my good purposes, and put your children 
 To that destruction which I'll guard tbcm from, 
 If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. 
 
 Cleo. And may, through all the world: 'tis yours: 
 and we 
 Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall 
 Hang in w hat place you please. Here, my good 
 lord. 
 
 Cip^. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. 
 
 CUo. This isthe brief of money, pinte, and jewels, 
 I am possess'd of: 'lis exactly valued : 
 No petty things admitted. — VVhere's SeleucusT 
 
 iirL Here, madam. 
 
 Cleo, This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord, 
 Upon his peril, that 1 have reserv'd 
 Ti> myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. 
 
 SeL Madam, 
 I had rather seeH my lips, than, to my peril. 
 Speak that wliich is not. 
 
 Cleo. What have 1 kept back ] . 
 
 Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made 
 known. 
 
 Cics. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra ; I approve 
 Your wisdom in the deed. 
 
 Cleo. See, Cfcsar! 0, behold, 
 
 Hmv pomp is followed ! mine will now be yours; 
 And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. 
 The ingratitude of this Seleucus does 
 Even make me wild : — O slave, of no more trust 
 Than ioxc that's hired! — What, goest thou back'! 
 
 thou shalt 
 Go back, 1 warrant thee; but Til catch thine eyes. 
 Though they had wings: Slave, soulless villain,dog! 
 O rarely base ! 
 
 Cn's. Good queen, let us entreat you. 
 
 Cleo. O Ca-sar, what a wounding shame is this ; 
 That Ihou, vouchsafing here to visit me, 
 Doing the honor of thy lordliness 
 To one so meek, that mine own servant should 
 Parcel^ the sum of my disgraces by 
 Addition of his envy ! Say, good Ca^-sar, 
 That I some lady trifles have reserv'd, 
 Immoment toys, things of such dignity 
 As we greet moderns friends withal : and say,. 
 Some nobler token I have kept apart 
 For Livia.' aiul Octavia, to induce 
 Ttieir mediation ; must I be uiiiokled 
 With one that 1 have bred! The gods! It smites rae 
 Beneath the fall I have. Pr'ythee, go hence ; 
 
 [To Seleucus. 
 
 " Phapp or foi-m. « Sew up*. ' Add to. 
 
 8 Commou. t Cwjs;u's wife. 
 
612 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits 
 Through the ashes of my chance.— Wert thou a 
 
 man, 
 Thou wouldst have mercy on me. 
 
 Casi Forhear, Seleucus. 
 
 [Exit Seleucus. 
 Clfo. Be it known, (hit we, the greatest, are 
 misthou^ht 
 For things that others d ' ; und, when we fall, 
 We answer others' merits in our u«!Ee, 
 Arc therefore to be pitied. 
 
 Ca-'. Cleopatra, 
 
 Not whatyou havereserv'd.norwliatacknowledg'd, 
 Put we i' the roll of conquest : still be it yours, 
 Hestow it at your pleasure ; and believe, 
 Ca;sar's no merchant, to make prize with you 
 Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; 
 Make not your thoughts your prisons : no, dear 
 
 queen ; 
 For we intend so to dispose you, as 
 Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep: 
 Our care and pity i.« so much upon you. 
 That we remain your friend ; And so, adieu. 
 Clco. My master, and my lord ! 
 Ca:s. Not so : Adieu. 
 
 [Exeunt Cesar and his Train, 
 deo. He words me, girls, he words me, that I 
 should not 
 Ke noble to myself; but hark Ihee, Charmian. 
 
 [ lVllU:pprS ClIARMIAX. 
 
 Irns. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, 
 And we are for the dark. 
 
 Cko. Hie thee again : 
 
 I have spoke already, and it is provided ; 
 C;o. put It to the haste. 
 
 Ctiur. Madam, I will. 
 
 Re-enter Dolabella. 
 
 Vol. Where is'the queen? 
 
 CItar. Behold, sir. [Exit Charmian. 
 
 Cleo. Dolabella ! 
 
 Dot, Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, 
 Wiiich my love makes religion to" obey, 
 1 tell you this : Cfesar through Syria 
 Intends his journey; and, within three days, 
 '\'o;i with your children will he send before : 
 Make your best use of this: I have pcrforni'd 
 Your pleasure and my promise. 
 
 Cleo. Dolabella, 
 
 I shall remain your debtor. 
 
 Dot. I your servant. 
 
 Adieu, good queen; I must attend on C»sar. 
 
 Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit DoL.] Now, 
 Jras, what think'st thou T 
 Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown 
 In Rome, as "well as I : mechanic slaves 
 With greasy aprons, rules, and hanuners, shall 
 Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, 
 Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, 
 And forcM to drink their vapor. 
 
 Iras. The gods forbid ! 
 
 Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy lictors 
 Will catch at us, like strumpets: and scald rhymers 
 Ballad us out o' tune: the quick* comedians 
 Kxtemporally will stage us, and present 
 Our Alexandrian revels; Antony 
 Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall sec 
 Some squeaking Cleopatra boy'J my greatness 
 I' the posture of a whore. 
 
 Jra.i. the good gods ! 
 
 Cleo. Nay, that is certain. 
 
 /n/.v\ ril never see it ; for, I am sure, my nails 
 Are stronger than mine eyes. 
 
 Cleo. Why. that's the way 
 
 To fiiol their preparation, and to conquer 
 Their most absurd intents. — Now, Charmian \^ 
 
 Enter Charmian. 
 Show me, my women, like a queen : — Go fetch 
 My best attires;— I am again for Cydnus, 
 To meet Mark Antony :— Sirrah, Iras, go. — 
 Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch indeed: 
 And. when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee 
 
 leave 
 To play till doomsday.— Bring our crown and all. 
 Wliereforc's this noise ? 
 
 [Exit lRA9. A Noise within. 
 Enter one of the Guard. 
 
 GuarcL Here is a rural fellow, 
 
 • Lively. • Fem.lle chnractcrs were played by boys. 
 
 That will not be denied your highness' presence ; 
 He brings you figs. 
 Cleo, Let him come in. How poor an instrument 
 
 [Exit Guard. 
 May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
 I\Iy resolution's placed, ard I have nothing 
 Of woman in me : Now from head to loot 
 I am marble-constant ; now the fleeting moon 
 No planet is of mine. 
 
 Re-enter Guard, vnlh a Clown br-'m^ing a Basket. 
 
 Guard. This is the man. 
 
 Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. [Exit Guard. 
 
 Hast thou the pretty worm cf NilUB tliere. 
 That kills and pains not ] 
 
 CUtii'n. Truly I have him : but I would not be 
 the party that should desire you to touch him, for 
 his biting is immortal; those, that do die of it, do 
 seldom or never recover. 
 
 Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't 1 
 
 Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard 
 of one of them no longer than yesterday ; a very 
 honest woman, but something given to lie; i.s a 
 woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: 
 howshe died of the biting of it, what pains she felt,— 
 Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm : 
 But he that will believe all that they say. shall never 
 be saved by half that they do: i3ut"this is most 
 fallible, the worm's an odd worm 
 
 Cleo, (iet thee hence ; larewell. 
 
 Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. 
 
 Cleo. Farewell. [Clow'n sets down the Basket. 
 
 CItjtvn. You must think this, look you, that the 
 worm will do his kind.' 
 
 Cleo. Ay, ay ; farewell. 
 
 Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, 
 but in tile keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there 
 is no gooilness in the worm. 
 
 Cleo. Take thou no care ; it shall be heeded. 
 
 Cluwn. Very good : give it nothing, I jjray you, 
 for it is not worth the iceding. 
 
 Cleo, Will it eat me? 
 
 Clown. You must not think I ara so simple, but 
 I know the devil himself will not cat a woman : I 
 know, that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the 
 devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whore- 
 son devils do the gods great harm in their women; 
 for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. 
 
 Cleo. Well, get thee gone ; farewell. 
 
 Clown, Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the 
 worm. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Iras, wi/h a Robe, Crovm, ^e. 
 
 Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
 Immortal longings in me : Now no more 
 The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip :— 
 Yare, yare,- good Iras; quick.— Methinics, I hear 
 Antony call ; I see him rouse himself 
 To praise my noble act; I hear him mock 
 The luck of Ca'sar, which the gods give men 
 To excuse their atler WTath : Husband, I come : 
 Now to that name my courage prove my title I 
 I am fire, and air ; my other elements 
 I give to baser life. — So, — have you done ? 
 Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
 Farewell, land Charmian ;— Iras, long farewell. 
 
 [Kisses them, lius falls and dies. 
 Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost tall ? 
 If thou and nature can so gently part. 
 The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch. 
 Which hurts, and is desir'd. Post thou lie still 1 
 If thus thou vanishcst, thou tell'st the world 
 It is not worth leave-taking. 
 
 Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain ; that I may 
 say. 
 The gods themselves do weep ! 
 
 Cleo. This proves me base- 
 
 If she first meet the curled Antony, 
 He'll make demand of her ; and spend that Idss, 
 Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch, 
 [To the Axp, which she applies to her Breast. ■ 
 With thy sliarj) leelli this knot intrinsicate 
 Of lili? at once untie: poor venomous fool. 
 Be angry and despatch. O. eouldst thou speak ! 
 That I might hear thee call great Cffisar, ass 
 Unpolicied !3 
 
 Chnr. eastern star ! 
 
 Cleo. Peace, peace! 
 
 • Act .ipfnrding to his nature. ^ Make hasto. 
 
 « Uuptilitic, to leave me to niyselC 
 
Scene II. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 613 
 
 Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
 That sucks the nurse asleep ] 
 
 Cluir. 0, break ! 0, break ! 
 
 rteo. As sweet as balm, as sort as air, as gentle, — 
 Antony ! — Nay, I will take thee too: — 
 
 [Apjilijing itnolher Asp to her Arm. 
 What should I stay — [Falls on a Bed, and dies. 
 
 Char. In this wild vvorlcl? — So, fare thee well. — 
 Now boast thee, death ! in thy possession lies 
 A lass unparallel'd.— Downy wnidows, close ; 
 And golden Pliojbus never be beheld 
 Of eyes again so royal ! Your crown's awry ; 
 ril mend it, and then play. 
 
 Enter the Guard, rushing in. 
 
 1 Guard. Where is the queen ? 
 Char. Speak soflly, wake her not. 
 
 1 Guard. Caisar hath sent — 
 Cfiur. Too slow a messenger. 
 
 [Applies the Asp. 
 O, come ; apace, despatch : I partly leel thee. 
 
 1 Gwerf/. Approach, ho! AU's not well: Caesar's 
 
 begiiil'd. 
 
 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cajsar; — 
 
 call him. 
 
 1 Guard. What work is here? — Charmiaii, is 
 
 this well done 1 
 Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess 
 Descended of so many royal Idngs. 
 Ah, soldier ! [Dies. 
 
 Enter Dolabella. 
 Dol. How goes it here ] 
 
 2 Guard. All dead. 
 
 Dol. C.fsar, thy tlioughts 
 
 Touch their effects in tliis: Thyself art coming 
 To see pcrforni'd the dreaded act, which thou 
 So sought'st to hinder. 
 
 [ IViihin.] A way there, way for Caesar? 
 
 Enter CcaAa attd Attendants. 
 
 I)ol. 0, sir. \>ou are too sure an augurer; 
 Tliat you did tear, is done. 
 
 Cses. Bravest at the last: 
 
 She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal. 
 Took her own way. — The mamicr of their deatlisl 
 I do not see them bleed. 
 
 Dol. Who was last with them ? 
 
 1 Guard. A simple comitryman, that brouglit 
 Iter ligs : 
 This was his basket. 
 
 Os. Poison'd, then. 
 
 1 Guard. Cffisar, 
 
 ThisCharmianliv'd but now; slie stood, and spake 
 I found her triinmijig up tiie diadem 
 On her dead mistress; trembUngly she stood, 
 .\nd on the sudden dropp'd. 
 
 Cws. noble weakness ! 
 
 If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear 
 By external swelling : but she looks like sleep, 
 As she would cutch another Antony 
 In her strong toil of grace.-" 
 
 Dot. Here, on her breast, 
 
 There is a vent of blood, and something blown : 
 The like is on her arm. 
 
 1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail: and these fig- 
 leaves 
 Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves 
 Upon the caves of Nile. 
 
 Cws. Most probable. 
 
 That so she died ; f)r her physician tells me, 
 She hath pursued conclusions inlinite 
 Of easy ways to die.— Take up her bed ; 
 And bear her women from the monument : — 
 She shall be buried by her Antony ; 
 No grave upon the earth shall clip^ in it 
 A pair so liimous. Higb events as these 
 Strike those that make them ; and their story is 
 No less in pity than his glory, which 
 Brought them to be lamented. Our army shi.!!, 
 In solemn show, attend this funeral; 
 And then to Home. — Come. Dolabella, see 
 High order in this great solemnity. 
 
 \F.r.-unt. 
 * Qracetul ai'pearauce. 6 EnruM. 
 
CYMBELINE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 CvsiBEUXE, King of Britam. 
 
 Cr.oTEN, Son to the Queen by a former Husband. 
 
 Lkonatis Pt^TiiuMus, fl Caitteniun, Husband to 
 
 lmoi;en. 
 BELAnus, a bunislied Ij^rd, disguised imder the 
 
 name of Mosc.sN. 
 GciDERius f ^""^ '" t^yibcline, disguised tinder 
 Ahvikuls I "'^ Names 0/ Poltdore OH'i Cad- 
 
 ■ ' ' l^ IVAL, supposed Suns to ISelarius. 
 VmsjAmo, Fnend to PoslUmxms, ), ,. 
 Iachimo, Friend to Pliilaiio, j J™"ans. 
 
 A Frencli Gentteman, Friend to Philario. 
 Caius Ll'cius, General (ff ttie Roman Forces. 
 A Roman Captain. 
 
 Two British Captains. 
 
 PiSANio, Servant to Postliumus. 
 Cornelius, a P/iysieian. 
 Two Gentlemen. 
 Two Gaolers. 
 
 Qi'EES, Wife to Cymbcline. 
 
 Imogen, Vaugliter to Cymbeline, by a former 
 Queen. 
 
 Helen, Woman to Imofon. 
 
 Lords. Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Appa- 
 ritiiins, a Soothsayer, a Diitcli Gentleman, a 
 Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Cap 
 tains, Soldiers, Messengers, andother Attendants 
 
 SCENE, sometimes in Britain ; sometimes in Italy. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Britain. T/ie Garden behind Cymbe- 
 linefe Palace. 
 
 Enter tivo Gentlemen. 
 
 1 Gent. You do not meet a man, but frowns : 
 
 our bloods' 
 No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers ; 
 Still seem, as docs the king's. 
 
 2 Gent. But what's the matter? 
 
 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his king- 
 
 dom, whom 
 He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, fa widow, 
 That late he married.) hath referr'd herself 
 I'nlo a poor but worthy gentleman: She's wedded; 
 Her husband banish'd ; she imprison'd : all 
 Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king 
 Be touch'd at very heart. 
 
 2 Gent. None but the king 1 
 
 1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too: so is the queen. 
 That most desn'd the match : But not a courtier. 
 Although they wear their faces to the bent 
 
 Ot the king's looks, hath a heart that is not 
 Glad at the thing they scowl at. 
 
 2 Gent. And why so? 
 
 1 Gent. Hethat hath miss'd the princess, IS a thing 
 Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her, 
 
 { I mean, that married her,— alack, good man !— 
 And therelbre banish'd,) is a creature such 
 As lo seek through the regions of the earth 
 For one his like, there would be something failing 
 In liiui that should compare. I do not think, 
 So lair an ou'vnrd, and such stuff witiiin. 
 Endows a man but he. 
 
 2 Gent. you speak him lar.2 
 
 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; 
 Crush him tngellier, rather than unfold 
 
 His measure duly.3 
 
 2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? 
 
 I Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His father 
 Was call d Sicilius, who did join his honor, 
 * Iui;lination, natural disiKisition. 
 1 1.e. You praise him extensively. 
 
 » My praise, however extensive, is within his merit. I 
 614 
 
 Against the Romans, with Cassibelan : 
 But had his titles by Tenantius,-* whom 
 He serv'd with glory and adrair'd success: 
 So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatns: 
 And had, besides this gentleman in question, 
 Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time, 
 Diedwitli their swords in hand; for which their father 
 (Then old and Ibnd of issue) took such sorrow, 
 That ho quit being; and his gentle lady, 
 Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd 
 As he was born. The king, he takes the babe 
 To liis protection; calls him Posthumus; 
 Breeds him. and makes him of his bed-chamber: 
 Puts him to all the learnings that his lime 
 Could make him the receiver of; which he took. 
 As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd ; and 
 In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court 
 (Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lov'd: 
 A sample to the youngest; to the more mature, 
 A glass that feated' them ; and to the graver, 
 A child that guided dotards : to his mistress. 
 For whom he now is banish'd, — her own price 
 Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; 
 By her election may be truly read. 
 What kind of man he is, 
 
 2 Cent. I honor him 
 
 Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell mc, 
 Is she sole child to the Icing ? 
 
 1 Gent. His only child. 
 He had two sons, (if this be wortli your hearing, 
 Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, 
 
 r the swathing clothes the other, from their 
 nursery 
 
 Were stolen : and to this hour, no guess in know- 
 ledge 
 
 Which way they went. 
 
 2 Gent. How long is this ago ? 
 
 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 
 
 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con 
 
 vey'd ! 
 So slackly guarded ! And the search so slow. 
 That could not trace them ! 
 
 * The father of Cymbeline. • Formett their manners. 
 
Act I. Scene III. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 615 
 
 1 Gaif. Ilowsoc'er 'tis strange, 
 Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, 
 Vet is it true, sir. 
 
 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 
 
 1 Gent. We must Ibrbcar: Here comes the gen- 
 ticmun, 
 The queen and princess. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.—Tke .^ame. 
 Enle. the Queen, Postuumus, and Imogen. 
 
 Queen. No. be assured, you shall not tind me, 
 daughter. 
 After the slander of most step-mothers, 
 Evil-ejed unto you : you are my prisoner, but 
 Your gaoler shall deliver you the Kejs 
 That lock up your restniint. P'or you, Posthflraus, 
 So soon as I can win the ollended king, 
 I will be known your advocate : marry, yet 
 The tire of rage i^ in liiin ; and 'twere good, 
 You leaned unto his sentence, with what patience 
 Your wisdom may inform you. 
 
 Post. Please your highness, 
 
 I will fjom hence to-day. 
 
 Qucin. You know the peril: — 
 
 I'D (etch a turn about the garden, pitying 
 The pangs of barr'd atlections; though the king 
 Hath charged you should not speak together. 
 
 [Exit QCEEN. 
 
 Jmo, 
 
 Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant 
 Can tickle where she wounds ! — My dearest hus- 
 band, 
 I something lenr my father's wrath ; but nothing, 
 (Always reserved my holy duty,) what 
 His rage can do on me: You must be gone; 
 And I shall here abide the hourly shot 
 Of angry eyes; not comforted to'live, 
 But that there is this jewel in the world. 
 That I may sec again. 
 
 Post. My queen ! my mistress ! 
 
 O, lady, weep no more ; lest I give cause 
 To be suspected of more tenderness 
 Than doth become a man ! I will remain 
 The loyal'st husband Ihat did e'er plight troth. 
 My residence in Ronu^, at one Philario's ; 
 Who to my father was a friend, to me 
 Known but by letter: thitlier write, mv queen. 
 And with mine eyes Til drink the words you send, 
 Though ink be made of gall. 
 
 Re-enter Qui:en. 
 
 Queen. Be brief, I praj'' you: 
 
 If the king come, I shall incur I know not 
 How much of his displeasure: Yet I'll move him 
 
 [Aside. 
 To walk this way : I never do him wrong. 
 But he does buy my injuries, to be friends ; 
 Pays dear for my oiFences. [Exit. 
 
 Post. Should we be taking leave 
 
 As long a term as yet we have to live, 
 The loathness to depart would grow : Adieu ! 
 
 Imo. Nay, stay a little : 
 Were you but riding forth to air yourself. 
 Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; 
 This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart; 
 But keep it till you woo another wife, 
 When Imogen is dead. 
 
 Post. How! how! another] — 
 
 You gentle gods, give me but this I have, 
 And sear up^ my embraeenieuts from a next 
 With bonds of death! — Remain thou here 
 
 [Putting on the Ri7i^. 
 While sense can keep it on f And sweetest, fairest, 
 As I my poor self did exchange for you. 
 To yoi.i so infinite loss; so in our iritles 
 I still win of you : For my sake, wear this ; 
 It is a' manacle of love ; I'll place it 
 Upon this iiiirest prisoner. 
 
 [Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. 
 
 Imo. 0, the gods ! 
 
 Wiicn shall we see again? 
 
 Enter Cymbeline and Lords. 
 
 Post. Alack, the king ! 
 
 Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid ! hence, from 
 my sight ! 
 If. after this conimand, thou fraught^ the court 
 With thy unwortbiness. thou diest : Away ! 
 Tliou art poison to my blood. 
 
 « Close up 1 Fill. 
 
 Post. The gods protect you ! 
 
 And bless the good remainders of the court I 
 1 am gone. [Exit, 
 
 Into. There cannot be a pinch in death 
 
 More sharp than this is. 
 
 Ci/m. disloyal thing. 
 
 That shouldst repair my j-outh ; thou heapest 
 A year's age on me ! 
 
 imo. I beseech you, sir, 
 
 Harm not yourself with your vexation ; I 
 Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare* 
 Subdues all pangs, all fears. 
 
 Cym. Past grace ? obedience ? 
 
 Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past 
 grace. 
 
 Cym, That might'st have had the sole son of my 
 queeu ! 
 
 Imo. O bless'd.that I might not ! I chose an eagle, 
 And did avoid a putlock.^ 
 
 Cym. Thou took'st a beggar ; wouJdet have made 
 my throne 
 A seat for baseness. 
 
 Imo. No; I rallicr added 
 
 A lustre to it. 
 
 Cy7/t. O thou vile one ! 
 
 Imo, Sir, 
 
 It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: 
 You "bred him as my playfellow; and he is 
 A man, worth any woman; overbuys me 
 Almost the sum he pays. 
 
 Cym. What ! — art thou mad 1 
 
 Imo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me ! — 'Would 
 I were 
 A neat-herd's' daughter! and my Leonatus 
 Our neighbor shepherd's son! 
 
 Re-enter Queex. 
 
 Cym. Thou foolish thing !^ 
 
 They were again togetiier : you liave done 
 
 [To the QuEK.v. 
 Not after our command. Away witn her, 
 And pen her up. 
 
 Queen. 'Beseech your patience: — Peace, 
 
 Dear lady daughter, peace: — Sweet sovereign, 
 Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some 
 
 comfort 
 Out of your bpst advice,^ 
 
 Cym. Nay, let her languish 
 
 A drop of blood a day; and, being aged. 
 Die of this folly. [Exit. 
 
 Enter PrSANio. 
 
 Queen. Fye! — you must give way: 
 
 Here is your sen.'ant. — How now, sir"! What news? 
 
 Pis. My lord your son drew on my master. 
 
 Queen, Ha! 
 
 No harm, I trust, is done 1 
 
 Pi.'i. There might have been, 
 
 Rut that my master rather play'd than fought. 
 And had no help of anger: they were parted 
 By gentlemen at hand. 
 
 Queen. I am very glad on't. 
 
 Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his 
 part. — 
 To draw upon an exile ! — brave sir ! — 
 I would they were in Afi'ic both together; 
 Myself by with a needle, that I might prick 
 The goerback.^Why came you from your masterl 
 
 Pis. On his command: He would not suffer me 
 To bring him to the haven : left these notes 
 Of what commands I should be subject to, 
 When it pleas'd you to employ mc. 
 
 Queen_. This hath been 
 
 Your lai*thful servant; I dare lay mine honor, 
 He will remain so. 
 
 Pis. I humbly thank your higliness, 
 
 Queen. Pray, walk a while. 
 
 Imo. A!)Out some half hour hence, 
 
 I pray you speak with me: you shall, at least, 
 Go see my lord aboard : for tliis time, leave me. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ public Place. 
 Enter Cloten" and two Lords. 
 1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; 
 the violence of action hath made you reek as a sa- 
 crifice : Where air comes out, air comes in : therc^'s 
 none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. 
 
 8 A more exquisite feeling. » A kitf. 
 
 > Cattle-keeper. a CoueiUeration. 
 
616 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Clo. If my sliirt were bloody, then to shift it- 
 Have 1 hurt liim? 
 2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 1 Lord. Hurt Iiimi liis body^s a passalile carcass, 
 if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare Tor steel if it 
 be not hurt. 
 
 2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o' the 
 backside the town. [Asiile. 
 
 Clo. The villain would not stand me. 
 2 Lord. No ; but he fled forward still, toward 
 your face. [AHde. 
 
 1 Loj'd. Stand you ! You have land enough of 
 your own: but he added to your having; gave you 
 sonic ground. 
 
 2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans : 
 Puppies! \_.iside. 
 
 Clo. I would they had not conre between us. 
 
 2 Lurd. So would I, till you had measured how 
 long a fool you were upon the ground. [Aahte. 
 
 Clo. And tliat she should love this Icllow, and 
 refuse me! 
 
 2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, 
 she is damned. [Aside. 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and 
 her brain go not together : She's a good sign, but I 
 have seen small retiection of her wit.3 
 
 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflec- 
 tion sliould hurt her. [Aside. 
 
 Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber: 'Would there 
 had been some hurt done ! 
 
 2 Lt/rd. X wish not so; unless it had been the fall 
 of an ass, wliich is of no great hurt. [Aside. 
 
 Clo. You'll go with us? 
 
 1 Lurd. I'll attend your lordship. 
 Clo. Nay, come, let's go together 
 
 2 Lord. Well, my lord. [ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. 
 Enter Imucen and Pisanio. 
 
 low. 1 would tiiou grew'st unto the shores o' the 
 haven. 
 And cpiestion'dst every sail ; if lie should WTite, 
 And 1 not have it, 'twere a pajier lost 
 As otliM-'d mercy is. What was the last 
 Tliat he spake lo thee ? 
 
 Pi-s. 'Twas, His queen, his queen! 
 
 lino. Then wav'd his handkerchief! 
 
 Pis. And kiss'd it, madam. 
 
 Into. Senseless linen ! happier therein than I ! — 
 And tliat was alU 
 
 Pis. No, madam; for so long 
 
 As he could make me with this eye or ear 
 Distinguish him from others, he did keep 
 Tii(' deck, with glove, or hat, or handkercliief, 
 Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind 
 Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on. 
 How swift his ship. 
 
 lino. Thou shouldst have made him 
 
 As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
 To after-eye him. 
 
 Pis. Madam, so I did. 
 
 Inio. I would have broke mine eye-strings; 
 crack'd them, but 
 To look upon him; till the diminution 
 Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle: 
 Nay, follow'd him till he had nielttd from 
 The smallness of a gnat to air; and then 
 Have turn'd mine eye and wept. — But, good 
 
 Pisanio, 
 When shall we hear fi-om him 1 
 
 Pis. Be assured, madam. 
 
 With iiis next 'vantage.'* 
 
 Into. I did not take my leave of him, but had 
 Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him. 
 How I v.'ould tliiuli on liim, at certain hours, 
 Snrli tlii.KL'lits, and8Ucli;or I could make him swear 
 Til'' sli.s nf Italy should not betray 
 Mini' iiilt'i'i'st.and his honor; or iiavecliarged him. 
 At till' sixtb hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, 
 To encinmter me with orisons, 5 for tlien 
 1 am ill licaven for him: or ere J could 
 Give liini that parting kiss, wliich I had set 
 Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, 
 And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north. 
 Shakes all our buds from growing. 
 
 ' Til ilnclcrsliind the force of (his ide.i, it shfiuld be rB- 
 jnL'iiitiiTcd timt jiiH'iendy .ilmost ^'wcvy st;/n had a motto, 
 lir .ifiiiii, iitteiiipt lit a wittiirisin, undiTneiith it. 
 
 * Ujiliortunity. » ileet me with reciprocal prayer. 
 
 J!ntcr a Lady. 
 
 Lady. The queen, madam, 
 
 Desires your highness' company. 
 Jmo. Those things I bid you do, get them de- 
 spa tch'd. — 
 I will attend the queen. 
 Pis. Madam, I shall. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE v. — An Apartment in Philario's 
 House. 
 Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutch- 
 man, a7id a Spaniard. 
 
 lack. Believe it, sir: I have seen him in Biitain 
 he was then of a crescent note,^ expected lo prove 
 so worthy, as since he hatli been allowed the name 
 of: but I could then have look.id on him without 
 the help of admiration ; thougli the catalogue of his 
 endowments had been tabled by Ins side, and I to 
 peruse him by items. 
 
 Phi. You speak of him when he was less fur- 
 nislied than now he is, with that which makes Mm 
 both without and within. 
 
 French. I have seen him in France: w-e had very 
 many there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes 
 as he. 
 
 lach. This matter of marrying his king's daugh- 
 ter (wherein he must be weighed rather by her 
 value, than his own) words him, I doubt not, a 
 great deal from the matter. 
 
 French. And then his banishment: 
 
 luch. Ay, and the approbation of those, tliat 
 weep this lamentable divorce, under her colors, are 
 wonderfully to extend' him; be it but to fortify 
 her judgment, which else an easy battery might 
 lay flat, for talcing a beggar without more quality. 
 But how comes it, he is to sojourn with you? 
 How creeps acquaintance'! 
 
 Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; to 
 whom I have been often bound for no less than mv 
 lite — 
 
 Enter Posthi'mcs. 
 Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained 
 amongst you, as suits with gentlemen of your 
 knowing to a stranger of his qdality.— I beseech 
 you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom 
 1 commend to you, as a noble friend of mine : How 
 worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather 
 than story hiin in his own hearing. 
 
 French. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. 
 
 Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for 
 courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay 
 still. 
 
 French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness; I 
 was glad I did atone'* my countrymen and you ; it 
 li.ad been pity, you should have been put together 
 with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon 
 importance^ of so slight and trivial a nature. 
 
 Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young 
 traveller: riither shumi'd to go even with what 
 I heard, than in my every action to be guided by 
 otbers' experiences: but, upon my mended judg- 
 ment, (if I otTend not to say it is mended,) my 
 quarrel was not altogether slight. 
 
 French. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrament 
 of swords; and by such two, that would, by all 
 likelihood, have confounded' one the other, or have 
 fallen both. 
 
 lach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the 
 ditli^reuce ! 
 
 French. Safely, 1 think: 'twas a contention in 
 public, which may, without contradiction, sufler 
 the report. It was much like an argument tliat tell 
 out last night, where each of us foil in praise ot our 
 country mistresses: Tliis gentlemen at tliat time 
 vouching (and n])on warrant of bloody athrniation) 
 his to lie more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, 
 qualified, and less attcmptable, than any the rarest 
 of our ladies in Fiance. 
 
 Inch. That lady is not now living; or this gentle- 
 man's ojiinion, by this, worn out. 
 
 Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. 
 
 Inch. You must not so far prefer her 'lore ours 
 of Italy. 
 
 Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, 
 I would abate her nothing ; though I profess my- 
 self her adorer, not her friend.^ 
 
 " Increasing in time. ' Praise Lira. 8 Itcconcile. 
 
 n Instlgiition. * Destroyed. ' LiOver. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 G17 
 
 lach. As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-in- 
 hand comparison,) had been soniethins too fair, and 
 too good, for any lady in Brittany. If she went 
 before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours 
 out-lustres many I have beheld, I could no-t but be- 
 lieve she excelled many : but I have not seen the 
 most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. 
 
 Fast. I praised her, as I rated her : so do I my 
 stone. 
 lacli. What do you esteem it at 7 
 Post. Jlorc than the world enjoys. 
 lack. Either your miparagoncd mistress is dead, 
 or she's out-prized by a trillc. 
 
 Post. You are mistaken: the one may be sold, 
 or given ; if there were wealth enough for the pur- 
 chase, or merit lor the gift : the other is not a thing 
 for sale, and only the gilt of the gods. 
 lacli. Which the gods have given you? 
 Post. Which, by their grace, 1 will keep. 
 lacli. You may wear her in title yours : but.you 
 iniow, strange fowl light upon neighboring ponds. 
 Your ring may be stolen, too : so, of your brace of 
 unprizable estimations, the one is but frail, and the 
 otiier casual ; a cunning thief, or a tliat-way accom- 
 plished courtier, would hazard the wimiing both of 
 first and last. 
 
 Post. Y'our Italy contains none so accomplished 
 a courtier, to convince^ the honor of my mistress; 
 if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail, 
 I do nothing doiibt, you have store of tliieves; not- 
 withstanding I fear not my ring. 
 Ptii. Let us leave here, gentlemen. 
 Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy sig- 
 nior, I thank him, maics no stranger of me : wc 
 are lamiliar at tirst. 
 
 lacli. With live times so much conversation, I 
 sliould got ground of your fair mistress : make her 
 go back even to the yielding; had I admittance 
 and opportunity to friend. 
 Post. No, no. 
 
 Iac^. I dare, thereon, pawn the moiety of my 
 estate to your ring ; which, in n^y opinion, o'er- 
 values it something: But 1 make my wager rather 
 against your conlidencc, than her reputation: and, 
 to bar your oltence hcj'ein too, I durst attemi^t it 
 against any lady in the world. 
 
 Post. You are a great deal abused in too bold a 
 persuasion ; and I doubtnot you sustain what you're 
 worthy of, by your attempt. 
 Incli. What's that ! 
 
 Post. A repulse : Though your attempt, as you 
 call it, deserves more ; a pmiishment too. 
 
 Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too 
 suddenly ; let it die as it was bom, and, I pray you, 
 be better acquainted. 
 
 lac/i. 'Would I had put my estate, and my neigh- 
 bor's, on the approbation' of what I have spoke. 
 Post. What lady would you choose to assail \ 
 lack. Yours; whom in constancy, you think, 
 stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats 
 to your ring, that, commend me to the court where 
 your lady is, with no more advantage tiian tfie op- 
 portunity of a second conference, and 1 will bring 
 from thence that honor of hers, which you imagine 
 so reserved. 
 
 Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it : 
 my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. 
 
 Incti. Yon are a friend, and therein the wiser. 
 If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you 
 cannot preserve it from tainting : But, I see, you 
 liave some religion in you, that you fear. 
 
 Post. This is but a custom in your tongue: you 
 bear a graver purpose, I hope. 
 
 ladi.t am the master of my speeches; and would 
 undergo what's spoken, I swear. 
 
 Post. Will you ! — I shall but lend my diamond 
 tiU your return : — Let tliere be covenants drawn 
 between ns: My mistress exceeds in goodness the 
 hugeiiess of your unworthy thinlving : I dare you 
 to this match : here's mv ring. 
 Ptii. 1 will have it no lay. 
 
 lucli. By the gods it is one : — If I bring you no 
 sutticient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest 
 bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand du- 
 cats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come 
 off, and leave her in such honor as you have trust 
 in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold 
 are yours : — provided, I have your commendation,^ 
 lor my more free entertainment, 
 a Overcome. * Proo£ » KecommeDdation. 
 
 Post. I embrace these conditions; let us have 
 articles betwixt us : — only, thus far you shall an- 
 swer. If you make your voyage upon her, and 
 give me directly to understand you have prevailed, 
 I am no further your enemy, she is not worth our 
 debate: if she remain unseduced, (you not making 
 it appear otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the 
 assault you have made to her chastity, you stall 
 answer me with your sword. 
 
 lacli. Y'our hand; a covenant: We will l-.ave 
 these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight 
 awayforBritain; lest the bargain should catch cold, 
 and starve : I will fetch my gold, and have our two 
 wagers recorded. 
 
 Post. Agreed. 
 
 [E.vtunt PosTHOirs and Iachimo. 
 
 Frencti. Will this hold, think you ! 
 
 Plii. Signior lachimo wiU not from it. Pray. let 
 us follow 'em. {£.t:euHt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— Britain. A Room, in Cymbeline's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter QtJEEN, Ladies, and Cornelius. 
 
 Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather 
 those dowers; 
 Make haste : Who has the note of them ! ■ 
 
 1 Ladi/. I, madam. 
 
 Queen. Despatch. [KreunI Ladies. 
 
 Now, master doctor ; have you brought those drugs? 
 
 Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, 
 madam : [Presenting a small Fox. 
 
 But I beseech your grace, (without oflence; 
 My conscience bids me ask,) wherefore you have 
 Commanded of me these most poisonous com- 
 pounds. 
 Which are the movers of a languishing death ; 
 But, though slow, deadly 1 
 
 Queen. I do wonder, doctor, 
 
 Thou ask'st rae such a question : Have I not been 
 Thy pupil long 1 Hast thou not Icarn'd me how 
 To'make perfumes! distil! preserve! yea, so. 
 That our great king himself doth woo me oft 
 For my confections ! Having tlius far proceeded, 
 (I'nless you think mc devilish,) is't not meet 
 That I did amplify my judgment in 
 Other conclusions P 1 will try the forces 
 Of these thy compounds on such creatures as 
 We count not worth the hanging, (but none human,) 
 To try the vigor of them, and apply 
 AUayments to their act ; and by them gather 
 Their several virtues, and etlects. 
 
 Cnr. Your highness 
 
 Shall from this practice but make hard your heart: 
 Besides, the seeing these etlects will be 
 Both noisome and infectious. 
 
 Queen. 0, content thee.— 
 
 Enter PiSAXio. 
 Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him [Aside. 
 Will I first work: he's for his master. 
 And enemy to my son. — IIow now, Pisaniol — 
 Doctor, your service for this time is ended; 
 Take your own way. 
 
 Cor. I do suspect you, madam ; 
 
 But you shall do no harm. [Aside. 
 
 Queen. Hark thee, a word. — 
 
 [To PlSAMO. 
 
 Cur. [Aside.] I do not like her. She doth tliink, 
 she has 
 Strange lingering poisons : I do know her spirit. 
 And will not trust one of her malice with 
 A drug of such damn'd nature: Those she has, 
 Will stupify and dull the sense awhile: 
 Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats and dogs ; 
 Then afterward up higher; but there is 
 No danger in what show of death it makes. 
 More than the locking up the spirits a lime. 
 To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd 
 With a most false effect ; and I the truer. 
 So to be false with her. 
 
 Queen. No furtlier service, doctor. 
 
 Until I send for thee. 
 
 Cor. I humbly take my leave. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou 
 think, in time 
 She will not quench ; and let instructions enter 
 Where folly now possesses f Do thou work ; 
 When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son, 
 8 Experiments. 
 
618 
 
 CYxMBELINE. 
 
 Act L Scene Vll 
 
 ril tell thee, on the instant, thou art then 
 As tj;ro:it as is thy master: greater; for 
 HisYortunea all lie speechless, and his name 
 Is at last gasp : Return he cannot, nor 
 Continue where he is : to shift his being,"' 
 Is to exchange one misery with another ; 
 And every day that conies, comes to decay 
 A da>'s work in him : What shait thou expect, 
 To be aependcr on a thing that leans ? 
 Who cannot l)e new built; nor has no friends, 
 
 [The Queen drops a Box; Pisaniu takes 
 it up. 
 So much as but to prop him ? — Thou tak''st up 
 Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labor: 
 It is a thing I made, which hath the king 
 Five times redeemVl from death: I do not know 
 What is more cordial: — Nay, I pr'ythee, take it; 
 It is an earnest of a further good 
 That 1 mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how 
 The case stands with her; doH. as from thyself. 
 Think what a chance thou changest on ; but think 
 Thou hast thy mistress, still ; to boot, my son, 
 Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king 
 To any shape of thy preferment, such 
 As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, 
 That set thee on to this desert, ara bound 
 To load tiiy merit riclily* Call my women: 
 Think on my words, [^xit Pisa.] — A sly and con- 
 stant knave ; 
 Not to be shaked : the agent for his master ; 
 And the remembrancer of her, to hold 
 The hand fast to her lord.— I have given him that. 
 Which, if he take, shall quite un]>en]ik' her 
 Of liegers for her sweet; and wiiicli she. atl:er, 
 Except she bend her humor, shall be assured 
 
 Re-enter Pisanio and Ladies. 
 To taste of too.— So, so; — well done, well done; 
 The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, 
 Bear to my closet: — Fare thee weH, Pisanio; 
 Tliink on my words. [Exciinf Qckem and Ladies. 
 
 Pis. And shall du : 
 
 And when to my good lord I prove untrue, 
 rU choke myself: there's all I'll do lor you. [Exit. 
 SCENE Yll.—Anoiher Room in the same. 
 Enter Imogen. 
 
 Imn. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; 
 A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, 
 That hath her husband banish'd;— 0, that hus- 
 band ! 
 My supreme crowm of grief! and those repeated 
 Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stolen. 
 As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable 
 Is the desire that's glorious: Blessed be those 
 How mean soeVr, that have their honest wills. 
 Which seasons comfort. — Who may this be] Fye! 
 Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. 
 
 Pin. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome; 
 Comes from my lord with letters. 
 
 lach. Change you, madam? 
 
 The worthy Leonatus is in safety, 
 And greets your highness dearly. 
 
 [Pi-csents a Lifter. 
 
 Into. Thanlvs, good ^r : 
 
 You are kindlj' welcome. 
 
 lack. All of ner, that is out of door, most ricli ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 If sho' be furnishM with a mind so rare, 
 Slic is alone the Arabian bird ; and I 
 Have lost the wager. Boldr.oss. be my friend ! 
 Ann me, at tacitv. from head to foot! 
 Or. like llu- Parthian, I shall Hying light; ' 
 
 Rather, (lircctly Jly. 
 
 In/o. [Reads.]— i/f- U one of the noblest note, to 
 whose kindness I am most infinitely tied. Refect 
 U}X)n him accordingly^ as you value your truest 
 
 Leon Ales. 
 So far I read aloud : 
 But even the very middle of my heart 
 Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully. — 
 You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I 
 Have words to bid you ; and shaU find it so, 
 In all that I can do. 
 
 lach. Thanks, fairest lady.-- 
 
 Wliat I are men mad ? Ilalli nature given them eyes 
 To see Ibis vjullod arcli. and Ihr rich crop 
 Of yt-a and land, wliicli can distinguish 'twixt 
 The liery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones 
 1 To chaugo his abode. 
 
 Upon the number'd beach ] and can we not 
 Partition make with spectacles so precious 
 'Twixt tair and fouH 
 
 Imo. What makes your admiration ? 
 
 lack. It cannot be i' the eye ; lor apes and mon- 
 keys, 
 'Twixt two such shcs, would chatter thiswa-y, and 
 Contemn with mows^ the other: Nor i' the judg- 
 ment; 
 For idiots in this case of favor, would 
 Be wisely delinite. Nor i' the appetite: 
 Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd. 
 Should make desire vomit emptiness, 
 Not so allured to feed. 
 
 Into. What is the matter, trow 1 
 
 lach. The cloyed will, 
 
 (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, 
 Tiiat tub both till'd and running,) ravening first 
 Tlie lamb, longs after for the garbage. 
 
 Imo. What, dear sir, 
 
 Tluis raps you 1 Are you well ? 
 
 luch. Thanks, madam; well: — Beseech you, sir, 
 desire To Pisanio. 
 
 My man's abode where I did leave him ; he 
 Is strange and peevish." 
 
 Pvt. I was going, sir, 
 
 To give him welcome. [Exit Pisanio. 
 
 Imo. Continues weU my lord? His health, 'be- 
 seech you 1 
 
 lach. Well, madam. 
 
 Imo. Is he disposed to mirth ? I hope he is. 
 
 Inch. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there 
 So merry and so gamesome: he is calPd 
 The Briton reveller. 
 
 Imo. When he was here, 
 
 He did incline lo sadness; and oft-times 
 Not knowing wliy. 
 
 lack. I never saw him sad. 
 
 There is a Frenchman bis companion, one 
 An eminent monsieur, tliat, it seems, much loves 
 A Gallian girl at home, he furnaces 
 The thick sighs from him: whiles the jolly Briton 
 (Your lord, I mean) laugiis from's" free lungs, 
 
 cries 0/ 
 Can my sides hold, to think, that man, — who knows 
 By history, I'eport, or his own proof 
 li'kat woman w, yea, what she cannot choose 
 But must be, — will his free liows lufiguishfor 
 Assured bondage^ 
 
 Imo. Will my lord say so T 
 
 lach. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with 
 laugliter. 
 It is a recreation to be by. 
 And hear him mock the Frenchman : But, heavens 
 
 know. 
 Some men arc mucli to blame. 
 
 Imo. Not he, I hope. 
 
 lack. Not he : But yet heaven's bounty towards 
 him might 
 Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much : 
 In you, — which I count his, beyond all talents, — 
 Wliilst I am bound to wonder, "I am bound 
 To pity too. 
 
 Imo. What do you pity, sir? 
 
 lach. Two creatures heartily. 
 
 Imo. Am I one, sir? 
 
 You look on me: What \VTeck discern you in me, 
 Deserves your pity? 
 
 Inch. Lamentable! Whgt! 
 
 To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace 
 V the dungeon by a snnfl"? 
 
 Into. I pray you, sir 
 Deliver with more openness your answers 
 To my demands. Why do you pily me ? 
 
 lack. That others do, 
 
 I was about to say, enjoy your But 
 
 It is an office of the gods to 'venge it, 
 Not mine to speak on't. 
 
 Imo. You do seem to know 
 
 Something of me, or what concerns me : Pray you, 
 (Since doubling things go ill often hurts more 
 Than to be sure they do: For certainties 
 Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing. 
 The remedy then born,) d scover lo me 
 What both you spur and stop.' 
 
 lack. Had I this cheek 
 
 To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch 
 Whose every touch would force the feeler's soul 
 
 8 Alaking mouths. • Shy and fi>plish. 
 
 » \\ hat you seem anxious to utter, aud yet withhold. 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 619 
 
 To the oath of loyally ; this object, which 
 Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye. 
 Fixing it only here : should I {danin'd then) 
 Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
 That mount the Capitol ; join gripes with hands 
 Made hard with hourly falsehood ; (falsehood, as 
 With labor ;) tfien lie peeping in an eye. 
 Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
 That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit 
 That all the plagues of hell should at one time 
 Kncounter such revolt. 
 
 Imu. My lord, I fear, 
 
 Has lorgot Britain. 
 
 lack- And himself. Not I, 
 
 Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce 
 The beggary of his change ; but 'tis your graces 
 That, from hiy mutest conscience, to my tongue, 
 Charms this report out. 
 
 lino. Let me hear no more. 
 
 lack. O dearest soul ! your cause doth strike my 
 heart 
 With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady 
 So fair, and fasten'd to an empery,^ 
 Would make the great'st king double ! to be part- 
 
 ner'd 
 With tomboys, hired with that self-exhibition' 
 Which your own coffers yield ! with diseas'd ven- 
 tures, 
 That play with all infirmities for gold, ^ 
 
 Which rottenness can lend nature ! such boil d 
 
 stulf, 
 As well might poison poison ! Be revenged ; 
 Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you 
 Recoil from your great stock. 
 
 lino. Revenged ! 
 
 How should I be revenged ? If this be true, 
 (As I have such a heart, that both mine ears 
 Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true, 
 How should I be revenged 1 
 
 lack. Should he make me 
 
 Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; 
 Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps. 
 In your despite, upon your purse ! Revenge It. 
 I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure; 
 More noble than that runagate to your bed; 
 And will continue fast to your aU'ection, 
 Still close, as sure. 
 
 Imo. What ho, Pisanio ! 
 
 lach. Let me my service lender on your lips. 
 
 Iiao. Away ! — I do condemn mine ears, that have 
 So long attended thee.— If thou wert honorable. 
 Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not 
 For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange. 
 Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far 
 From thy report, as thou from honor; and 
 Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains 
 Thee and the devil alike.— Wliat ho, Pisanio!— 
 The king, my father, shall be made acquainted 
 Of thy assault: if he shall think it tit. 
 A saucy stranger in his court, to mart 
 As in a Romish stew, and to expound 
 His beastly mind to us; he hath a court 
 He little cares lor, and a daughter whom 
 He not respects at all. — What ho, Pisanio! — 
 
 Jack. happy Leonatus ! I may say : 
 
 The credit that thy lady hath of Ihee, 
 
 Deserves thy trust'; and thy most perfect goodness, 
 
 Her assur'd cretlit ! — Blessed li\'e you long ! 
 
 A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever 
 
 Country called his ! and you, his mistress, only 
 
 For the most worthiest hi ! Give me your pardon. 
 
 I have spoke this, to know if your affiance 
 
 Were deeply-rooted ; and shall make your lord, 
 
 That which he is, new o'er: And he is one 
 
 The truest manner'd; sucli a lioly witch, 
 
 That he enchants societies unto him : 
 
 Half all men's hearts are his. 
 
 hno. You make amends, 
 
 lack. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god '. 
 He hath a kind of honor svU him off. 
 More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry. 
 Most mighty princess, that I have advenlur'd 
 To try your taking of a lalse report; which hath 
 Honor 'd with conliraiation your great judgment 
 In the election of a sir so rare, 
 Wliich you know, cannot err: The love I bear him 
 Made me to fan= you thus; but the gods made you. 
 Unlike all others, chaltless. Pray, your pardon. 
 
 Imii. All's well, sir: Take my power i' the court 
 for yours. 
 
 lack. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot 
 To entreat your grace but in a small request, 
 And yet of moment loo, for it concerns 
 Your lord ; myself, and other noble friends, 
 Are partners in the business. 
 
 Imo. Pray, what is't ? 
 
 Inch. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord, 
 (The best feather of our wing,) have mingled sums, 
 To buy a present for the emperor ; 
 Which I, the factor fur the rest, have done 
 In France: 'Tis plate, of rare device ; and jewels. 
 Of rich and exquisite form: their values great; 
 And 1 am something curious, being strange, 
 To have them in sale stowage : May it please you 
 To take tliem in protection] 
 
 Imo. Willingly ; 
 
 And pawn mine honor for their safety : since 
 My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them 
 in my bed-chamber. 
 
 lack. They are in a trunk, 
 
 Attended by my men : I will make bold 
 To send them to you. only for this night: 
 1 must aboard to-morrow. 
 
 Imo. O. no, no. 
 
 luck. Yes, I beseech ; or I shall short my word, 
 By lengthening my return. From Oallia 
 I cross'd the seas on jiurpose, and on promise 
 To see your grace. 
 
 lino. I thank you for your pains ; 
 
 But not away to-morrow? 
 
 luch. O, I must, madam : 
 
 Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please 
 To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night. 
 I have ouLstood my time ; which is material 
 To the lender of our present. 
 
 Imo. I will write. 
 
 Send your trunk to me ; it shall safe be kept, 
 And truly yielded you: You are very welcome. 
 
 {Exeunt 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCF.XE I.— Court before Cymbeline's Palace. 
 Enter Cloten and two Lords. 
 
 Clo. Was there ever man had such luck? when 
 I kissed the jack upon an up-cast,' to be hit away! 
 I had a hundred pound on't: And then a whore- 
 .jon jackanapes must talce me up for swearing ; as 
 if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not 
 Bpend them at my pleasure. 
 
 1 Lor I. What got he by that? You have broke 
 his pate with your bowl. 
 
 2 Lorii. If his wit had been like him that broke 
 it, it would have run all out. [Aside. 
 
 Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, 
 
 a Sovereign command. ' Allow.ance, pension. 
 
 « lie is descritiing his fitte at bowls : the jack is the small 
 bowl at which the others are aimed. 
 
 it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths : 
 Ha? 
 
 2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor [Aside.] crop the ears 
 ofthem. . _ . .1 
 
 Cli). Whoreson dog!— I give him satisfaction! 
 'Would he had been one of my rank! 
 
 2 Ijjrd. To have smelt like a fool. [Aside. 
 
 Clii. I am not more vexed at any thing in the 
 earth: — A pox on't! I had rather not be so noble 
 ,as I am : they dare not light with me, because ot 
 the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his 
 belly full of fighting, and I must g;o up and down 
 like a cock that nobody can match. 
 
 2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too; and you 
 crow, cock, with your comb on. [Aside. 
 
 Clo. Sayest thou ? 
 
 > To fan is to winnow. 
 
C20 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 1 Lord. It is not fit, your lordship siiould uiider- 
 talie every comranio!i that you give offence to. 
 
 C7<). No, I linow thut : but it is tit, I should com- 
 mit oflence to my interiors. 
 
 2 Lord. Ay, it is tit for your lordship only. 
 Cb). Why, so I say. 
 
 1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger tliafs come 
 to court to-night ? 
 
 Clo. A stranger! and I know not on't? 
 
 2 Lirrd. He's a strange fellow himself, and laiows 
 it not. [Aside. 
 
 1 Lord, There's an Italian come; and, 'tis 
 thought, one of Leonatus' friends. 
 
 Clo. Leonatus ! a banished rascal ; and he's an- 
 other, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this 
 stranger 1 
 
 1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. 
 
 Cic. Is it tit I went to look upon him ? Is there 
 no derogation in't 1 
 
 1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. 
 Clo. Not easily, I think. 
 
 2 L(rrd. You are a fool, granted: therefore your 
 issues, being foolish, do not derogate. [ Aside. 
 
 Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian; What I have 
 lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. 
 Come, go. 
 
 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
 
 {tCreunl Clote.n and first Lord. 
 That such a crafty devil as is his mother 
 Should yield the world this ass ! a woman, that 
 Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son 
 Cannot take two fiom twenty for his heart, 
 And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess. 
 Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st ! 
 Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd ; 
 A mother hourly coining plots ; a wooer 
 More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
 Of (liy dear husband, than that horrid act 
 01 the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm 
 The walls of thy dear honor; keep unshak'd 
 That temple, thy fair mind; that thou may'ststand. 
 To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— ,4 BeJ-chamber; in one Part of it 
 a Trunk. 
 
 Imogen readini; in her Bed; a Lady attending. 
 
 Imo. Who's there ? my woman Helen 1 
 
 Lady. Please you, madam. 
 
 Iiao. What hour is it? 
 
 Lady. Almost midnight, madam. 
 
 Imo. 1 have read three hours, then : mine eyes 
 are weak: — 
 Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed: 
 Take not away the taper, leave it burning; 
 And if thou canst awake by four o' the dock, 
 I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. 
 
 [Exit Lady. 
 To your protection I commend me, gods ! 
 From firiries, and the tempters of the night, 
 Guard me, beseech ye ! 
 
 [Sleeps. lACEmo, from the Trunk. 
 
 laeh. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labor'd 
 sense 
 Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus 
 Did sottly press the rushes.6 ere h^waken'd 
 The chastilv he wounded. — Cytherea, 
 How bravelV thou becom'st thy bed ! Fresh lily ! 
 And whiter than the sheets ! That I might touch ! 
 But kiss; one kiss! — Rubies nnparagon'd. 
 How dearly they do't!— 'Tis her breathing that 
 Perfumes the chamber thus: The tiameo'the taper 
 Bows toward her ; and would under-peep her lids, 
 To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
 Under these windows : White .and azure, laced 
 With blue of heaven'sovi-n tincl."— But my design ? 
 To note the chamber:— I will write all down :— 
 Such and such pictures:— There the window:— 
 
 .Such 
 The adornment of her bed ;— The arras, figures. 
 Why, such, and such:— And the contents o' the 
 
 story, — . 
 Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 
 Above ten thousand meaner movables 
 Would testify, to enrich mine inventory: 
 
 « It w.as anciently the custom to strew chambers with 
 ru8bo.s. 
 ' i. e. The white skin laced with blue veins. 
 
 sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! 
 
 .\nd be her sense but as a monument. 
 
 Thus in a chapel lying !— Come otf, come oft;- 
 
 [ Taking off her Bracelet 
 As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard ! 
 Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly. 
 As strongly as the conscience does within," 
 To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 
 A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
 I' the bottom of a cowslip; Here's a voucher. 
 Stronger than ever law could make ; this secret 
 Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and 
 
 ta'en 
 The treasure of her honor. No more.— To what 
 
 end? 
 Why should I write this down, that's riveted, 
 Screw'd to my memory 1 She hath been reading late 
 The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down, 
 Where Philomel gave up: — I have enough: 
 To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
 Swift, swift, you dragons of the night! — that 
 
 dawning 
 May bare the raven's eye: I lodge in fear; 
 Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 
 
 [ Clock strikes 
 One, two, three. — Time, time! 
 
 [ Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. 
 
 SCENE HI.— An Ante-chamber joining Imogen's 
 
 Apartment. 
 
 Enter Cloten atid Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man 
 in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. 
 
 Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 
 
 1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the 
 noble temper of your lordship: You are most hot, 
 and furious, when you win. 
 
 Cto. Winning would put any man into courage: 
 If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have 
 gold enough : It's almost morning, is't not 1 
 
 1 Lord. Day, my lord. 
 
 Clo. I would this music would come: I am ad- 
 vised to give her music o' the mornings ; they say, 
 it will penetrate. 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with 
 your lingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if 
 none will do, let her remaui; but I'll never give 
 o'er. First, a very excellent, good-conceiled thing; 
 after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich 
 words to it, — and then let her consider. 
 
 SONG. 
 Hark .' hark .' the lark at heaven's gate sings, 
 
 And Phcebus ^gins arise. 
 His steeds to water at those springs 
 
 On chaliced^Jknvers fhtit lies; 
 And winking Mary-buds begin 
 
 To ope their golden eyes; 
 With every thing tlwl pretty bin : 
 
 My lady sweet, arise; 
 Arise, arise. 
 
 So, get yon gone : If this penetrate, I will consider 
 your music the bettcr;9 if it do not, it is a vice in 
 her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the 
 voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. 
 [Exeunt Musicians. 
 Enter CrjiBEt.ixE a7id Queen. 
 
 2 Lord. Here comes the king. 
 
 Cto. I am glad I w.as up so late; for that's the 
 reason I was up so early: He cannot choose but 
 take this service I have done, fatherly.— t;ood-mor- 
 row to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. 
 
 Cyni. Attend you here the door of our stern 
 daughter? 
 Will she not forth? 
 
 Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she 
 vouchsafes no notice. 
 
 Cym. The exile of her minion is too new; 
 She hath not yet forgot him : some more time 
 Must wear the print of his remembrance out. 
 And then she's yours. 
 
 Queen. You are most bound to tlie king. 
 
 Who lets go by no 'vantages, that may 
 Prefer you to his daughter: Frame yourself 
 
 • Cupped, 
 
 • Will pay you more for it. 
 
Scene I\''. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 621 
 
 To orderly solicits; and be friended 
 With aptness of the season : malic denials 
 Increase your services: so seem, as if 
 You were inspired to do those duties wliich 
 You tender to her: that you in all obey her, 
 Save when command to your dismission tends, 
 And therein you are senseless. 
 Clo. Senseless 7 not so. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mt_ns. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; 
 The one is Caius Lucius, 
 
 Cym. A worthy feUow, 
 
 Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ; 
 But that\s no fault of his: We must receive him 
 According to the honor of his sender; 
 And towards himself his goodness forespent on us 
 We must extend our notice. — Our dear son, 
 Whea 5"ou have given good-morning to 5*our mis- 
 tress, 
 Attend tlie queen, and us: we shall have need 
 To employ you towards this Roman.— Come, our 
 queen. 
 
 \Exeimt Ztsu. QrEEs'. Lords, and Mess. 
 Cto. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not. 
 Let her lie still, and dream. — By your leave, ho!^ 
 
 \_Knocks. 
 I know her women arc about her: What 
 If 1 do Une one of their hands? 'Tis gold 
 Which buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea, and makes 
 Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
 Their deer to the stand of the stevi'ier ; and 'tis gold 
 Which makes the true man kiU'd, and saves the 
 
 thief; 
 Nay.sometiine.hangsboth thief and true man: What 
 Can it not do, and undo 1 I will make 
 One of her women lawyer to me; for 
 I yet not understand the case myself. 
 By your leave. [KnocTis. 
 
 Enter a Lady. 
 
 Lddij. Who's there, that knocks 1 
 
 Cto. A gentleman. 
 
 Lady. No more ■? 
 
 Clo.' Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. 
 
 Latlu. That's more 
 
 Than "some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, 
 Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's plea- 
 sure ? 
 
 Cln. Your lady's person; Is she ready! 
 
 Lady. Ay, 
 
 To keep her chamber. 
 
 CI'.). There's gold for you ; sell me your good 
 report. 
 
 Lady. How! my good name? or to report of you 
 What I shall thiiik is good ! — The princess 
 
 Enter Imogen'. 
 
 Clo. Rood-morrow, fairest sister : Y'our sweet 
 hand. 
 
 Imo. Good-morrow, sir : Y'ou lay out too much 
 pains 
 For purchasing but trouble : the thanks I give, 
 Is telling you that I am poor of tlianks, 
 And scarce can spare them. 
 
 Cio. Still I swear I love you. 
 
 Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me : 
 If you swear still, your recompense is still 
 That 1 regard it not. 
 
 Clo. Tiiis is no answer. 
 
 Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being 
 silent, 
 I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: i' faith, 
 I shall unfold equal discourtesy 
 To your best kindness; one of'your great knowing 
 Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 
 
 Cln. To leave yoii in your madness, 'twere my sin : 
 I will not. 
 
 Imo. I'ools are not mad folks. 
 
 Clo. Do you call me fool ? 
 
 Imo. As I am mad, I do ; 
 If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad ; 
 That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, 
 You put me to forget a lady's manners. 
 By being so verbal :' and learn now, for all, 
 That I, which know my heart, do here pronotmce, 
 By the very truth of it,'I care not for you ; 
 And am so near the lack of charity, 
 
 ' So verbose, so full of talk. 
 
 (To accuse myself,) I hate you : which I had rather 
 You tcU, than make't my boast. 
 
 Cln. Y'ou sin against 
 
 Obedience, which you owe your father. For 
 The contract you pretend with that base wretch, 
 (One, bred of "alms, and foster'd with cold dishes, 
 With scraps o' the court.) it is no contract, none 
 And though it be allow'd in meaner parties. 
 Yet who than he more mean?) to knit their souls 
 On whom there is no more dependency 
 Jut brats and beggary) in seli-iigured knot:^ 
 Yet you are curb'd from that enfargement by 
 The consequence o' the crown; and must not soil 
 The precious note of it with a base slave, 
 A hilding3 for a livery, a squire's cloth, 
 .V pantlcr, not so emnient. 
 
 Imo. Profane fellow! 
 
 Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more. 
 But what thou art besides, thou wert too base 
 To be his groom : Thou wert digniticd enough, 
 Even to the point of envy, if 'tv^ere made 
 Comparative for your virtues, to be styl'd 
 The under-hangihan of his kingdom ; and hated 
 For being preferr'd so well. 
 
 Cln. The south-fog rot him ! 
 
 Imo. He never can meet more mischance, than 
 come 
 To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, 
 That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer. 
 In my respect, than all the hairs above thee. 
 Were they all made such men. — How now, Pisanio ! 
 Enter Pisasio. 
 
 Clo. His garment? Now, the devil — 
 
 lino. To Dorothy my woman hie thee present- 
 ly :- 
 
 Clo. His garment ? 
 
 Into. I am sprighted^ with a fool 
 
 Frighted, and anger'd worse: — Go, bid my w'oman 
 Search for a jewel, that too casually 
 Hath loll niinearm ; it was thy master's: 'shrew me 
 If I would lose it for a rcvon::e 
 Of any king's in Europe. I do think, • 
 
 I saw't this morning: confident I am 
 Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: 
 1 hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord 
 That I kiss aught but he. 
 
 Pi-i. 'Twill not be lost. 
 
 Imo. I hope so: go, and search. {Exit Pis. 
 
 Clo. Y'ou have abused me : — 
 
 His meanest garment? 
 
 Imo. Ay ; I said so, sir. 
 
 If you will make't an action, call witness to't. 
 
 Clo. I will inform your father. 
 
 Imo. Your mother too. 
 
 She'.s my good lady ; and will conceive. I hope. 
 But the "worst of me. So I leave you, sir, 
 To the worst of discontent. {Exit. 
 
 Civ. I'll be revenged : — 
 
 His meanest garment ?— Well. {Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Rome. An Aiiarlmcntin Vhi\a.no'a 
 
 Himxe. 
 
 Enter Posthumus and Piiil.\rio. 
 
 Po.it. Fear it not, sir: I would, I were so sure 
 To win the king, as I am bold, her honor 
 Will remain her^v 
 
 Pfii. What means do you make to him ? 
 
 Post. Not any ; but abide the change of time ; 
 Quake in the present winter's state, and wish 
 That warmer days would come : In these fear'd 
 
 Iiopes, 
 I barely gratify your love; they failing, 
 I niustdie much your debtor. 
 
 Plii. Your very goodness, and your company, 
 0"erpays all I can do. By thi.s. your king 
 Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius 
 Will do his commission thoroughly: And, I think, 
 He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages. 
 Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance 
 Is vet fresh iji their grief. 
 
 Post. I do belipve, 
 
 (Statist'' though I am none, nor hke.to be ) 
 That this will prove a war; and you shall bear 
 The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed 
 In our iiot-fearing Britian, thaji have tidings 
 Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen 
 
 i» Knots of their own tying. 
 
 » A low fellow, only fit to wear a livery. 
 
 * llauDted. 6 St.ttesnian. 
 
622 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act II. Scene IV. 
 
 Are men more orderM, than when Julius Cresar 
 Smiled at their lack of skill, but Ibund their 
 
 courage 
 Worthy his frowning at: Their discipline 
 (Now mingled with their courages) will make 
 
 known 
 To their approvers,^ they are people, such 
 That mend upon the world. 
 
 Enter Iachimo. 
 
 Phi. See! Iachimo'! 
 
 Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by 
 land; 
 And winds of all the corners kissM your sails, 
 To make your vessel nimble. 
 
 Phi. Welcome, sir. 
 
 Pofit. I hope, the briefness of your answer made 
 The specdiness of your return. 
 
 lack. Your lady 
 
 Is one the fairest that I have lookM upon. 
 
 Post. And therewithal, the best ; or let her beauty 
 Look through a casement to allure false hearts, 
 And be false with them. 
 
 lach* Here are letters for you. 
 
 Pout. Their tenor good, I trust. 
 
 lack. 'Tis very like. 
 
 Phi. Was Cains Lucius in the Britain court, 
 When you were there ? 
 
 lack. He was expected then, 
 
 But not approach'd. 
 
 Pmi. All IS well yet. — 
 
 .Sparkles this stone as it was wont ? or isH not 
 Too dull for your good wearing '! 
 
 lack. If I had lost it, 
 
 I should have lost the worth of it in gold, 
 ril make a journey twice as far, to enjoy 
 A second night of such sweet shortness, which 
 Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. 
 
 Post. The stone\s too hard to come by. 
 
 lach. Not a whit, 
 
 Your lady being so easy. 
 
 Post. Make not, sir, 
 
 Yofljr loss your sport; I hope, you know that we 
 Must not continue friends. 
 
 lac ft. Good sir, we must, 
 
 If you keep covenant: Had I not brought 
 Tlie knowledge of your mistress home, I grant 
 We were to question further: but I now 
 Profess myself the winner of her honor, 
 Together wilh your ring; and nut tlie wronger 
 Of her, or you, liaving proceeded but 
 By both your wills. 
 
 Ptist. If you can make't apparent 
 
 Tliat you have tasted her in bed, my liand. 
 And nn^ is yours: If not, the foul opinion 
 You haa of her pure honor, gains, or loses, 
 Your sword, or mine; or masterJess leaves both 
 To who shall find tJiein. 
 
 lack. Sir, my circumstances, 
 
 Being so near the truth, as I will make them, 
 Must tirst induce you to believe: whose strength 
 I will conlirm with oath ; which, I doubt not. 
 You'll give me leave to spare, wlicn you shall find 
 Y'ou need it not. 
 
 Post. Proceed. 
 
 lacfi. First, her bed-chamber; 
 
 (Where, t confess, I slept not; but, profess. 
 Had that was well worth watching:) It was hang*d 
 With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, 
 Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, 
 And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for 
 The press of boats, or pride: A piece of work 
 So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive 
 In workmanship and value; which I wondcr'd 
 Could be so rarely and exactly wrought. 
 Since the true lile on't was— 
 
 pod. This is true; 
 
 And this you might have heard of her, by me 
 Or by riome other. 
 
 hick. More particulars 
 
 Must justify my knowledge. 
 
 Post. So they must, 
 
 Or do your honor injury. 
 
 lack. The chimney 
 
 Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece, 
 Chaste Diau, bathing: never saw I figures 
 So likely to report tticmsi'Ives : the cutter 
 Was as another Nature, dumb ; outwent her, 
 Motion and breath left out. 
 
 • To those who ti-y thorn. 
 
 Post. This is a thing. 
 
 Which you might from relation likewise reap; 
 Being, as it is, much spoke of. 
 
 lacfi. The roof o' the chamber 
 
 With golden cherubins is fretted : Her andirons"' 
 (I had forgot them) were two winking Cu])ids 
 Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 
 Depending on their brands. 
 
 Post. This is her honor !— 
 
 Let it be granted, you have seen all this, [and 
 
 praise 
 Be given to your remembrance,) the description 
 Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves 
 The wager you have laid. 
 
 lack. Then, if you can, 
 
 [Pullins out the Bracelet. 
 Be pale; I beg but leave to air this jewel : See!— 
 And now 'tis up again : It must be married 
 To that your diamond; I'll keep them. 
 
 Post. Jove !— 
 
 Once more let me behold it: Is it that 
 Which I left with her! 
 
 hicfi. Sir, (I thank her,) that: 
 
 She stripp'd it from her arm ; I see her yet ; 
 Her pretty action did outsell her gift. 
 And yet enncli'd it too: Siie gave it me, and said, 
 Slie priz'd it once. 
 
 Post. May be, she pluck'd it ofT, 
 
 To send it me. 
 
 lack. She writes so to you 1 doth she? 
 
 Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this 
 too ; [ Gives the Ring, 
 
 It is a basilisk unto mine eye. 
 Kills me to look on*t : — Let there be no honor. 
 Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance, 
 
 love, 
 Where there's another man : The vows of woman 
 Of no more bondage bp, to where tliey are made. 
 Than they are to their virtues; whicliis nutiiing: — 
 O, above measure, false I 
 
 Pki. Have patience, sir. 
 
 And take your ring again ; 'tis not yet won : 
 It may be probable she lost it; or. 
 Who knows, if one oMier women, being corrupted, 
 Hath stolen it Irom her 1 
 
 Post. Very true; 
 
 And so, I hope, he came by't:— Back my ring:— 
 Render to me some corporal sign about her. 
 More evident than this ; for this was stolen. 
 
 lack. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. 
 
 Post. Hark you, iie swears; by Jupiter he swears, 
 'Tis true; — nay, keep the ring — 'tis true: I am 
 
 sure, 
 She would not lose it: her attendants are 
 All sworn and honorable :— They induced to steal 
 
 it: 
 And by a stranger? — No, he hath enjoy'd her: 
 The cognizance^ of her incontineney 
 Is this, — she hath bought tlie name of whore thus 
 
 dearly. — 
 There, take thy hire ; and all the fiends of hell 
 Divide themselves between you ! 
 
 Phi. Sir, be patient: 
 
 This is not strong enough to be believ'd 
 Of one persuaded well ol^ 
 
 Pof^f- Never talk on't ; 
 
 She hath been colled by him. 
 
 lack. If you seek 
 
 For further satisfying, under her breast 
 (Worthy the pressing] lies a mole, right proud 
 Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, 
 I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger 
 To feed again, though full. You do remember 
 This stain upon her .' 
 
 Post. Ay, and it doth confirm 
 
 Another stain, as big as hell can hold. 
 Were there no more but it. 
 
 lock. Will you hear morel 
 
 Post. Spare your aritlnnetic: never count the 
 turns; 
 Once, and a million ! 
 
 lack. I'll be sworn, 
 
 Post. No swearing. 
 
 If you will swear yon have not done't. you lie ; 
 And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny 
 Thou hast made me cuckold. 
 
 lock. I will deny nothing 
 
 ■> Ornamented Ircn bars which support wood burnt In 
 chjuiueya. •Thebad^e; tbo token. 
 
Act III. Scene II. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 6-3 
 
 Post. 0, that I had her here, to tear herhnib-meal ! 
 I will go there, and do't; i' the court; before 
 iler father : — I'll do sometliitig {Exit. 
 
 Pill. Quite beside 
 
 The governnient of patience ! — You have won ; 
 Let's IblJow him, and pervert tile present wrath 
 He hath against himself. 
 
 luch. With all my heart. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Y.— Another Room in tlie name. 
 Enter Posthliius. 
 Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women 
 Must he half-workers f We are bastards all; 
 And that most venerable man, wliicli I 
 Did call m\' lather, was I know not where 
 When I was stauiji'd j some coiner wuli his tools 
 Made me a counterfeit. Yet my mother seem'd 
 The Dian of that time: so doth my wife 
 The nonpareil of this. — O vengeance, vengeance ! 
 INIe of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, 
 And pray'd me, oil, torbearance: did it with 
 A pudency^ so rosy, the sweet view on't 
 Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought 
 her 
 
 As chaste as unsunn'd snow : — 0, all the devils ! — 
 
 This yellow lachimo, in an hour, — was't not !— 
 
 Or less, — at lirst : Perchance he spoke not ; but 
 
 Like a full-acorn 'd boar, a (Jerman one, 
 
 Cry'doA.' and mounted: found no opposition 
 
 Uut what lie look'd for should oppose, and she 
 
 Should from encounter guard. Could I find out 
 
 The woman's part in me ! For there's no motion 
 
 That tends to vice in man, but I allirm 
 
 It is the woman's part : Be it lying, note it, 
 
 The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; 
 
 Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; 
 
 Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, 
 
 Nice longing, slanders, mutability, 
 
 All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows, 
 
 Why, liers, in ])art, or all ; but, rather, all : 
 
 For even to vice 
 
 They are not constant, but are changing still 
 
 One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
 
 Not half so old as that. I'll write against them. 
 
 Detest them, curse them: — Yet 'lis greatei ' 
 
 skill 
 In a true hate, to pray they have their will: 
 The very devils cannot plague them better. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— Britain. A Room if State in Cym- 
 beline's Palace. 
 
 Enter Cvmiieline. Qijeen, Cloten, and Lords, 
 at one Door ; and at another, C.iius Lucius 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Ci/m. Now say, what would Augustus Ctcsar 
 with us? 
 
 Luc. When Julius Cajsar (whose remembrance 
 yet _ 
 Lives in men s eyes ; and will to eaie, and tongues, 
 [)e theme, and hearing ever) was in this Britain, 
 And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, 
 (Famous in Cusar's praises, no whit less 
 Than in his feats deserving it,) for him. 
 And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, 
 Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately 
 Is lell untender'd. 
 
 Qnten. And, to kill the marvel, 
 
 Shall be so ever. 
 
 Clo. There be many Csesars, 
 
 Ere such another Julius. Britain is 
 A world by it.self ; and we will nothing pay, 
 For wearing our own noses. 
 
 Queen. That opportunity. 
 
 Which then they had to take from us, to resume 
 We have again.— Remember, sir, my liege. 
 The kings your ancestors; together with 
 The natural bravery of your isle ; which stands 
 As Neptune's park, riblied and paled in 
 With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; 
 With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats. 
 But suck them up to the lop-mast. A kind of eon- 
 quest 
 C.Tsar made here ; but made not here his brag 
 Of came, and saiv, and 'mercame : with shame, 
 (The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried 
 From otioiir coast, twice beaten: and his shipping 
 (Poor ignorant baubles !) on our terrible seas. 
 Like e;;g-shells moved upon their surges, erack'd 
 As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof. 
 The liinied Cassibelan, who was once at point 
 (I), giglot fortune !) to master Casar's sword, 
 Niade Lud's town witli rejoicing fires bright. 
 And Britons strut with courage. 
 
 Clo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: 
 Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time ; 
 and, as I said, there is no more such Caisars : other 
 of them may liave crooked noses ; but to owe'sucli 
 straight arms. none. 
 
 Ci/m. Son, let your mother end. 
 
 Cto. W'e liave yet many among us can gripe as 
 hard as Cassibelan : I do not say, I am one; but I 
 have a hand. — Why tribute ! why should we pay 
 triliule ! II Ca?sar' can hide the sun /roin us with 
 a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will 
 
 ■ Modesty. 
 
 ' Own. 
 
 pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, 
 pray you now. 
 
 Cyin. You must kTiow, 
 Till the injurious Romans did extort 
 This tribute from us, we were free: Ciesar's ambition 
 (Which swell'd so much tliat it did almost stretch 
 The sides o' the world,) against all color, here 
 Did put the yoke upon us; which to shake oil". 
 Becomes a warlike i)eoi)Ie. whom we reckon 
 Ourselves to be. We do ^ay then to Ca"sar, 
 Our ancestor was that iWulmutius, which 
 Ordain'd our laws ; (whose use the sword of Ca;sai 
 Hath too much mangled ; whose repair, and Irau- 
 
 chise. 
 Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed. 
 Though Rome be theretbre angry ;) jMulmutius, 
 Who was the first of Britain, which did put 
 His brows within a golden crown, and call'd 
 Himself a king. 
 
 Euc. I am sorry, Cymbelinc, 
 
 That I am to pronounce Aiigustu.s Ciesar 
 (Ca'sar, that hath more kings his servants, than 
 Tliyself domestic ollicers.) thine enemy : 
 Receive it from me, then :— War. and confusion, 
 In Ca'sar s name jironounce 1 'gainst thee : look 
 For fury not to be resisted :— Thus defied, 
 
 I thank thee for myself. 
 
 L'ljm. Thou art welcome, Caius. 
 
 Thy Ca>sar knighted me; my youth I spent 
 Aluch under hini ; of him i gather'd honor; 
 Winch he, to seek of me again, perlurce. 
 Behooves me keep at uitciaiice;- 1 am perfect,' 
 That the Pannoinans and Dalmatians, lor 
 Their liberties, are now in arms: a precedent 
 Which, not to read, would show the Britons cold 
 So Ca;sar shall not find them. 
 
 ^"C. Let proof speak. 
 
 Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Wake pas- 
 time with us a day, or two, longer: If you seek us 
 afierwards in other terms, you shall find us in our 
 salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; 
 
 II you tall 111 the adventure, our crows shall fare the 
 better tor you ; and there's an end. 
 
 Ltic. So, sir. 
 
 Ci/m. Iknowyourmaster'spIeasure,andliemine: 
 All the remain is, welcome. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.— Another Room in the same. 
 
 • Enter Pisaxio. 
 
 Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write you not 
 What monster s her accuser ?— Leonatus ! 
 0, master! what a strange infection 
 Is fallen into thy ear ? What false Italian 
 (As poisonous tongu'd, as handed) halh prevail'd 
 On tliy too ready hearing ?— Disloyal ? No: 
 
 » At the extremity of defi.ince. a Vi'eU infurmed. 
 
624 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 She's punishVl lor hor truth ; nnd underi2:oes. 
 More poddess-]ike than wife-like, such assavUts 
 As would take in' some virtue. — 0, my master ! 
 Thy mind to her is now as low, as were 
 Thy fortunes. — How ! that I should murder her] 
 Upon the love, and truth, and vows, wliich I 
 Have made to thy command? — I, her? — her 
 
 blood ] 
 If it be so to do frood service, never 
 Let me be counted serviceable. How look I 
 That I should seem to lack humanity 
 So much as this fact comes lo ] DoH: The letter 
 
 [Reading. 
 That I have .sent her, by her oion command. 
 Shall give thee opportunity :—0 damn'd paper ! 
 Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, 
 Art thou a feodary^ for this act, and look'st 
 So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Imogen. 
 . I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 
 
 Imo. How now, Pisanio? 
 
 Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. 
 
 177UJ. Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus? 
 O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer, 
 That knew the stars, as I his characters ; 
 He'd lay the future open. — You good gods, 
 Let what is here contain'd relish of love, 
 or my lord's health, of his content, — yet not, 
 That we two are asunder, let that grieve him, — 
 (Some tiriefs are medcinable;) that isoneof them, 
 For it doth physic love; — of his content. 
 All but in that! — Good wax, thy leave: — Bless'd 
 
 be. 
 You bees.thatmake these locksof counsel! Lovers, 
 And men in dan:j;crous bonds, prfiy not alike ; 
 Though forfeiters you ca'st in prison, yet 
 You clasp young Cupid's tables:— Good news, 
 gods ! [Reads. 
 
 Justice, and j/ourfi/tlifr''s wrath, .shniill he fake 
 me in //w tlnnnainn, could not be so crurl to //te, as 
 you, Othe dcnrrst ofcrratnres. wi/ull not erefi renew 
 me ivilh your ri/c.'^.Tal'r not we that Iain in Cambria, 
 at Milford-IIa'rr/i. JVhat your own love will, out of 
 this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all hap- 
 piness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your^ in.' 
 creasing in love, Leonatus Posthumus. 
 
 O. for a horse with wings ! — Hear'st thou. Pisanio ? 
 He IS at r.Tilford-Havcn: Read, and tell me 
 How far 'tis thither. If one of mean atVairs 
 May plod it iJi a wee?;, why may not I 
 Ghde (hither in a day? — Then, true Pisanio, 
 (Who long'st, like mo, to see thy lord; who 
 
 loug'st, — 
 O, let me 'bate, — !uit not like me: — yet long'st, — 
 But in a fainter kind; — O. not like me; 
 For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick,^ 
 (Love's counsellor should till the bores of hearing, 
 To the smothering of the sense,) Jiow far it is 
 To this same blessed Miiford: And, by the way, 
 Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as 
 To inherit such a haven : But, tirst of all. 
 How wc may steal from hence; and for the gap 
 That we shall make in time, from our hence-going 
 And our return, to excuse: — but first, how get 
 
 hence ; 
 Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? 
 We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak. 
 How many score of miles may vve well ride 
 'Twixt liour and hour ? 
 
 Pw. One score, 'twixt sun and sun. 
 
 Madam, 's enough for you ; and too much too. 
 
 Lno. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, 
 Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding 
 
 . wagers. 
 Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 
 That run i' the clock's !)eha!f : — But this is foolery : 
 Go, bid my womnn feign a sicloiess; say 
 Siie'll home to her father; and provide me, pre- 
 sently, 
 A riding suit; no costlier than wou^d fit 
 A franklin's' housewife. 
 
 Pis. Madam, youVebest consider. 
 
 Imo. I see before me. man. nor here, nor here, 
 Nor what ensues ; but liave a fog in them. 
 That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee; 
 
 * To htle in a town, is to conquer it. « Confuderate. 
 6 Crowd one word uii another, as fast as possible. 
 1 A freeholder. 
 
 Do as I hid thee : There's no jnnrc to say ; 
 Accessible is none but Miiford way, " [Exeunt 
 
 SCEXE III.— Wales. A Mountainous Country, 
 
 with a Cave. 
 
 Enter BELAniu3, Guiderius, and Arviragcs. 
 
 Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such 
 Whose roof's as low as ours ! Stoop, boys: This gate 
 Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows 
 
 you 
 To mornings holy office. The gates of monarchs 
 Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet"^ through, 
 And keep their impious turbans on, without 
 Good-morrow to the sun. — Hail, thou fair heaven : 
 We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
 As prouder livers do. 
 
 Gui. Hail, heaven! 
 
 Arv. Hail, heaven ! 
 
 Bel. Now, for our mountain .sport,: Up to yon hill. 
 Your legs are young; I'll tread these fiats. Con- 
 sider, 
 When you above perceive me like a crow. 
 That it' is place which lessens, and sets oiX, 
 And 5'ou may then revolve what tales I have told 
 
 you. 
 Of court^i. of princes, of the tricks in war: 
 This service is not service, so being done, 
 But being so allow'd : To apprehend thu5, 
 Draws us a pro'it from all things we see : 
 And often, lo our comfort, shall we find 
 The sharded^ beetle in a safer hold 
 Than is the fuU-wing'd eagle. 0, this life 
 Is nobler, than attending for a check; 
 Richer, than doing nothing for a babe ; 
 Prouder, tlian rustling in unpaid-for silk : 
 Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine, 
 Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to cmrs.' 
 
 Gui. Out of your i^roof you speak: we, poor un- 
 (Icdg'd, 
 liave never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor 
 
 know not 
 What air's frojji home. Haply, this life is best, 
 If quiet life be best; sweeter to you. 
 That have a sharper known; well corresponding 
 With your stilfage ; but, unto us, it is 
 A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed ; 
 A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
 To stride a limit.^ 
 
 Arv. What should we speak of, 
 
 When we are old as you ? when we shall hear 
 The rain and wind beat dark December, how, 
 In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
 The freezing hours away ? We have seen nothing: 
 We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey; 
 Like warlike as tlie wolf, for what we eat: 
 Our valor is, to chase what flies; our cage 
 We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, 
 And sing our bondage freely. 
 
 BeL ^ How you speak ! 
 
 Did you but know the city's usuries. 
 And felt them knowingly, the art o' the court. 
 As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb 
 Is certain falling, or so slippery, that 
 The fear's as bad as Killing; tile toil of tlie war, 
 A pain that only seems to seek out danger 
 I' the name of fame and honor; which dies i' the 
 
 search ; 
 And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph. 
 As record of fair act; nay, many times, 
 Doth ill deserve by doing well ; what's worse, 
 Must court'sy at the censure : — O, boys, this story 
 The world may read in me: My body's mark'd 
 With Roman swords; and my report was once 
 First witli the best of note: Cvmbclinc lov'd me; 
 And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
 Was not far otf: Then was I as a tree. 
 Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but inone night, 
 A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, 
 Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, 
 And leftjue bare to weather. 
 
 Gui. Uncertain favor! 
 
 Bel. My fault being nothing, (as I have told you 
 olt.) 
 Rut that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd 
 Heliire my perfect honor, swore to Cymbeline, 
 I was confederate with the Romans: so 
 F(p|low'd my banishment ; and, this twenty years, 
 
 8 SIrnt. w.ilk proudly. » Pcaly-winEred. 
 
 ' I.e. Compared with ours. > To ovL-rpass his bound. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 625 
 
 This rock, and these demesnes.have been my world; 
 Where I have liv'd at honest freedom ; paid 
 More pious debts to heaven, than in all 
 The fore-end of mj' time. — But, up to the moun- 
 tains; 
 This is not hunters' lansua^c: — He that strikes 
 Tlie veni.son tirst, shall be the lord o' the feast; 
 To him the other two shall minister; 
 And we will fear no poison, which attends 
 In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the val- 
 leys. [Exeunt Cvj. and Ary. 
 How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! 
 These bo^■sknow little, they are sons to the king; 
 Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
 They tliink, they are mine: and, though train'dup 
 
 tlius meanly 
 I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 
 The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them, 
 In simple and low things to prince it, much 
 Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, — 
 The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
 The king his father call'd Guiderius, — Jove! 
 When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell 
 The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
 Into my story: say,— TAu* mine enemy fell; 
 And ikus I set nujjhnl on his neck ; even then 
 The princely blood tlows in his cheek, he sweats, 
 Strams his young nerves, and puts himself in 
 
 posture 
 That acts my words. The younger brother,CadwaI, 
 {Once, Arvifagus,) in as li"ke a figure. 
 Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more 
 His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd ! — 
 O Cyniheliue! heaven, and my conscience, knows. 
 Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon. 
 At three, and two years old, I stole these babes ; 
 Thinking to bar thVe of succession, as 
 Thou reffst me of my lands. Euriphile, 
 Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their 
 
 mother, 
 And every day do honor to her grave; 
 Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd. 
 They take for natural father. The game is up. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— iVrar Milford-Haven. 
 Enter Pisanio and Imoges. 
 
 Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, 
 
 the place 
 Was near at hand :— Ne'er long'd my mother so 
 To see me tirst, as I have now : — Pisanio ! Man ! 
 Where is Posthtimus'!* What is in thy mind. 
 That makes thee stare thus! Wherefore breaks 
 
 that sigh 
 From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, 
 Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd 
 Beyond sell-explication: Put thyself 
 Into a havior^ of less fear, ere wMdness 
 Vanquish my staider .senses. What's the matter ! 
 Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with 
 A look untcnder! If it be summer news. 
 Smile to't before: if winterly, thou need'st 
 But keep that countenance still. — My husband's 
 
 hand ! 
 That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, 
 And he's at some hard point. — Speak, man; thy 
 
 tongue 
 May t.ake off some extremity, which to read 
 Would be even mortal to me. 
 
 -P**. Please you, read; 
 
 And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing 
 The most disdain'd ol' fortune, 
 
 Imo. [Reads.] Thy 7niitre.is,Visa-ivo, hatkplay'd 
 the strumpet ininiihed: the testimfini.es wherenf lie 
 bleeding in me. Ispenk not out nf weak surm'ises, 
 but from proof as strong as m\i grief, and as certain 
 as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, 
 mint act for rhe, if th}/ faith he not tainted with the 
 breach oj hers. Let thine own hands take airny her 
 life. I shall give thee ojiport unities at Milford- 
 Haven : she hath my letter for the purpose: Where, 
 if thmi fear to strike, and to make me certain it is 
 done, thou art the pander to her dislionur, and 
 equally to me disloyal, 
 Pw. What, shall I need to draw my sword ! the 
 
 paper 
 Hath cut her throat already. — No, 'tis slander ; 
 3 For behavior. 
 
 40 
 
 Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whoso 
 
 tongue 
 Ouf-venonis all the worms of Nile; whose brenth 
 Rides on the postiiiij winds, and doth belie 
 All eovners of the world; kings, queens, and states, 
 Maids, matrons, nay. the secrets of the grave 
 This viperous slander enters.— What cheer, madam] 
 
 Itnn. False to his bed ! What is to be false] 
 To lie in watch there, and to think on him? 
 To weep 'twixt clock and clock] if sleep charge 
 
 nature. 
 To break it with a fearful dream of him. 
 And cry myself awake] That's talsc to his bedl 
 Is it] 
 
 Pis. Alas, good lady! 
 
 Imo. 1 false] Thy conscience witness: — lachimo, 
 Thou didst accuse him of incontineney ; 
 Thou then lookMst like a villain; now. methinks, 
 Tliy favor\'^ good enough, — Some jay of Italj-, 
 Whose motherwasherpainting,-'hatii betrayed him: 
 Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion ; 
 And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, 
 I must be ripp'd :— To pieces with me ! — O, 
 MeM''s vowsarc women's traitors! All good seeming, 
 ]Jy thy revolt, O husband, shall be thougiit 
 Put on for- villany ; not born, where't grows ; 
 Bui worn, a bait for ladies. 
 
 Pis. Good madam, hear me. 
 
 Imo. True honest men, being heard, like false 
 i^neas. 
 Were, in his time, thougiit false: and Sinon's weep- 
 ing 
 Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity 
 From most true wretchedness: So, thou, Post- 
 humus, 
 Wilt Jay the leaven on all proper men ; 
 Goodly, and gallant, shall be (l^Ise and nerjurM, 
 From thy great tail. — Come. fellow, be tliou honest: 
 Dothou'thy master's bidding: when thou sccst 
 
 him, 
 A little witness my obedience: Look! 
 I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit 
 The innocent mansion of my love, my heart: 
 Ft'ar not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief: 
 Thy master is not there; who was, indeed. 
 The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike. 
 Thou may'st be valiant in a beUer cause, 
 But now thou seem'st a coward. 
 
 Pis. Hence, vile instrument ! 
 
 Thou shalt not damn my hand. 
 
 Imo. ' Why, I must die; 
 
 And if I do not by thy hand, thou art 
 No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter 
 There is a prohioition so divine, 
 That cravensJ my weak hand. Come, here's my 
 
 he;irt; 
 Something's afore't : — Soft; soft; we'll no defence; 
 Obedient as the scabbard. — What is here! 
 The scriptures'^ of the loyal Leonatus, 
 All turn'd to heresy ] Away, away. 
 Corrupters of my faith ! you shall no more 
 Be stomachers to my heart ! Thus may poor fools 
 Believe false teachers: Though those that are be- 
 tray 'd 
 Do feel the treason sharply, j*et the traitor 
 .Stands in worse case of woe. 
 And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up 
 My disobedience 'gainst the king my father. 
 And make me put into eontempt the suits 
 Of princely I>llows, shalt thereatter fmd 
 It is no act of common pa-'^sage. but 
 A strain of rareness; and I t^rleve myself, 
 To think, when thou shalt be disedgM by her 
 That now thou lir'st"' on, how thy memory 
 Will then be pang'd by me. — Pr'ythee, despatch : 
 The Iamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy Icnife] 
 Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, 
 When I desire it too. 
 
 Pis. O gracious lady, 
 
 Since I received command to do this business, 
 I have not slept one wink. 
 
 Into. Do't, and to bed then. 
 
 Pu9. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. 
 
 Imo. Wherefore then 
 
 Did'st undertake it] Why hast thou abused 
 Sit nuiTiy miles with a pretence ? this place] 
 Mine action, and thine own ] our horses' labor! 
 
 • Likcne?;-s. 
 6 Thd writings. 
 
 " Cowards. 
 
 t Feedest or preyest en. 
 
626 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 The time inviting theel the perturbM court, 
 For my being absent : wliereunto I never 
 Purpose return 1 Why hast thou gone so far, 
 To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand, 
 The elected deer before thee'! 
 
 Pis. But to win time 
 
 To lose so bad employment: in the which 
 I have considerM of a course; Good lady, 
 Hear me with patience. 
 
 I/no. Talk thy tongue weary ; speak : 
 
 I have heard, I am a strumpet; and mine ear, 
 Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, 
 Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. 
 
 Pis, Then, madam, 
 
 I thought you would not back again. 
 
 Imo. Most like; 
 
 B»inging me here to kill me. 
 
 Pis. Not so, neither: 
 
 But if I were as wise as honest, then 
 My purpose would prove well. It cannot be, 
 But that my master is abused : 
 Some villain, ay, and singular in his art, 
 Hath done you both this cursed injury. 
 
 Imo. Some Boman courtesan. 
 
 Pis. No, on my life. 
 
 V\l give but notice you are dead, and send him 
 Some bloody sign of it; for His commanded 
 I should do so : You shall be missM at court. 
 And that will well confirm it. 
 
 Imo. Why, good fellow, 
 
 What shall I do the while 1 Where bide? HowUvel 
 Or in my life what comfort, when I am 
 Dead to my husband ! 
 
 Pis. If you'll back to the court, — 
 
 Imo. No court, no father ; nor no more ado 
 With that harsh, noble, simple, notliing: 
 That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me 
 As fearful as a siege. 
 
 Pis. If not at court, 
 
 Then not in Britain must you 'bide. 
 
 Imo. Where, then 1 
 
 Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, 
 Are tliey not but in Britain? I' tlie world's volume 
 Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it; 
 In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythec, think 
 There's livers out of Britain. 
 
 Pis. I am most glad 
 
 You think of other place. The amI)assador, 
 Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven 
 To morrow : Now, if you could wear a mind 
 Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise 
 That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be, 
 But by self-danger; you should tread a course 
 pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near 
 The residence of Posthumus: so ni^h.at least, 
 Tliat though his actions were not visible, yet 
 Report should render hira hourly to your ear, 
 As truly as he moves. 
 
 Imo. O, for such means ! 
 
 Though peril to ray modesty, not death on't, 
 I would adventure. 
 
 Pis. Well, then, here's the point: 
 
 You must forget to he a woman ; change 
 Command into obedience; fear, and niccness, 
 (Tlie liandmaids of all women, or, more truly, 
 Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage; 
 Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd. saucy, and 
 As quarreious as the weasel : nay, you must 
 Forget that rarest treasure of your'cheek, 
 Exposing it (but, O, tiie harder heart! 
 Alack, no remedy !) to the greedy touch 
 Of comrnon-kissing Titan;'' and Ibrget 
 Your laborsome and dainty trims, wherein 
 You made great Juno angry. 
 
 //'/". Nay, be brief: 
 
 I see into tliy end, and am almost 
 A man already. 
 
 Pw. First, make yourself but like one. 
 
 Fore-thinking this, I have already fit, 
 PTis in my cloak-hag.) doublet, hat, hose, all 
 That answer to them : Would you. in tlieir serving, 
 And with what imitation you can burrow 
 From youth of sueii a season, 'tore nol)Ic Lucius 
 Present yourself, desire his service, teil him 
 Wherein you are ha]>py, (Which you'll make him 
 
 know. 
 If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless, 
 With joy he will einltraceyou ; lor he's honorable. 
 And,(U)ubling that, most Jioly. Your means abroad 
 > The sua. 
 
 You have me,9 rich ; and I will never fail 
 Beginning, nor supplyment. 
 
 I/nu. Thou art all the comfort 
 
 The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away: 
 There's more to be consider'd ; but we'll even 
 All that good time will give us: This attempt 
 I'm soldier to, and will abide it with 
 A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell: 
 Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of 
 Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, 
 Here is a box : I had it from the queen; 
 What's in't is precious ; if you are sick at sea, 
 Or stomach-qualni'd at lana, a dram of this 
 Will drive away distemper. — To some shade. 
 And fit you to your manhood : — May the goas 
 Direct you to the best ! 
 
 Imo. Amen : I thank thee. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE v.— ^ Room in Cymbeline's Palace, 
 
 Enter Cymbeline, Queex, Cloten, Lucius, and 
 Lords. 
 
 Cyyn. Thus far; and so farewell. 
 
 Luc. Tlianks, royal sir. 
 
 My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence; 
 And am riglit sorry that I must report ye 
 My master's enemy. 
 
 Cym. Our subiects, sir. 
 
 Will not endure his yoke ; and for ourself 
 To show less sovereignty than they nmst needs 
 Appear unkingly. 
 
 Luc, So, sir^ I desire o^ you 
 
 A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven. — 
 Madam, all joy belall your grace, and you! 
 
 Cijm. Mjf lords, you are appointed tor that office: 
 The due of honor in no point omit: — 
 So, farewell, noble Lucius. 
 
 Luc. Your hand, my lord. 
 
 Via. Receive it friendly : but from this time IbrLh 
 I wear it as your enemy. 
 
 Luc. Sir, the event 
 
 Is yet to name the winner: Fare you well. 
 
 Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my 
 lords, 
 Till he have cross'd the Severn.— Happiness ! 
 
 [Exeunt Licius and Lords. 
 
 Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it honors 
 us, 
 Tliat we have given him cause. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis all the better; 
 
 Your valiant Britons have^heir wishes in it. 
 
 Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor 
 How it goes here. It fits us, therefore, ripely, 
 Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: 
 Tlie powers that he already hath in Gallia 
 Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he 
 
 moves 
 His war tor Britain. 
 
 Queefi. 'Tis not sleepy business; 
 
 Bui nnist lie look'd to speedily, and strongly. 
 
 Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus. 
 Hath made us Ibrward. But, my gentle queen, 
 Wliere is our daughter ? She hath not appear'd, 
 Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd 
 The duty of the day: She look-s us like 
 A thing more made of maUce, than of dut}'^: 
 We have noted it. — Call her before us ; tor 
 We have been too slight in sullerance. 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 Queen. Royal Pir, 
 
 Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd 
 Hath her life beexi; the cure wJiereof, my lord, 
 'Tis time must ilo. 'Beseech your majesty. 
 Forbear sharp speeches to her : she's a lady 
 So teiidtT (if rebukes, tliat words are stroke*. 
 And strokes death to her. 
 
 Re-enter an Attendant. 
 
 Cym. Where is she, sli ? How 
 
 Can' her contempt be answer'd ? 
 
 Ail. Please you, sir, 
 
 Her chambers are all lock'd ; and tliere'snoanswei 
 That wdl be given to the hiud'st of noise we make 
 
 Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her, 
 She jiray'd me to excuse her keeping close; 
 Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity. 
 She should that duty leave unpaid to you, 
 
 s As for your subsistence nbroad, you may rely on me. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 CTMBELINE. 
 
 627 
 
 Which daily she was bound to proffer: this 
 
 She wish'd mo to make known ; but our great court 
 
 Made me to blame in memory. 
 
 Cym. Her doors lock'd \ 
 
 Not seen oflatel Grant, heavens, tliat, which I fear, 
 Prove false! [ExU. 
 
 Queen. Son, I say, follow the kinji. 
 
 Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, 
 I have not seen these two days. 
 
 Queen. Go, look after.— 
 
 ["E-ril Clotex. 
 Pisanio, thou that stand'sl so for Posthiimus !— 
 He hath a dru^r of mine : I pray, his absence 
 Proceed tty swallowin;; that; lor he believes 
 It is a thins most precious. But for her, 
 Whereisshesone? Haply. despair hath seiz'd her: 
 Or, winged with fervor of her love, she's Ilown 
 To her desir'd Posthiimus: Gone she is 
 To death, or to dishonor; and my end 
 Can make good use of either: .*she being down, 
 I have the placing of the British crown. 
 
 Re-enter Clotes. 
 How now, my son 1 
 
 Ctit. 'Tis certain she is fled ; 
 
 Go in, and cheer the king; he rages; none 
 Dare come about him. 
 
 Queen. All the better: May 
 
 This night forestall him of the coming day! 
 
 [Exit QtiEEX. 
 
 Clo. I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal; 
 And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite 
 Than lady. ladies, woman;' from every one 
 The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, 
 Outsells them all: I love her therefore; But, 
 Disdainiii;ir me, and throwing favors on 
 The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment. 
 Tliat what's else rare, is choked ; and, in that point, 
 I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed. 
 To be revenged upon her. For, when tools 
 
 Enter PisA.vio. 
 Shall — Who is here'! What! are you packing, 
 
 sirrah 1 
 Come hither: Ah, you precious pander ! Villain, 
 Where is thy lady 7 In a word ; or else 
 Thou art straightway witli the tiends. 
 
 Pis. O, good my lord ! 
 
 Clo. Where is thy lady ? or, by Jupiter, 
 I will not ask again. Close villain, 
 I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip 
 Thy heart to lind it. Is she with Posthtimus? 
 From wliose so many weights of baseness carmot 
 A dram of worth be drawn. 
 
 Pis. Alas, my lord. 
 
 How can she be with him 1 When was she miss'd 1 
 He is in Rome. 
 
 Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer; 
 
 No further halting: satisfy me home. 
 What is become of her ! 
 
 Pis. 0, my all-wortliy lord ! 
 
 Clo. All-worthy villain ! 
 
 Discover where thy mistress is, at once. 
 At the next word. — No more of worthy lord, — 
 Speak, or thy silence on the instant is 
 Thj' condemnation and thy death. 
 
 Pis. Then, sir, 
 
 This paper is the history of my Icnowledge 
 Touching her flight. ' ['Pre.senting a Letter. 
 
 CUi. Let's see't: — I will pursue her 
 
 Even to Augustus' throne. 
 
 Pis. Or this, or perish, i 
 
 She"sfarenough;and what he learns by this, > Asule. 
 May prove his travel, not her danger. ) 
 
 Clo. Humph! 
 
 Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, 
 Safe may 'st thou wander, safe return again ! [Aside. 
 
 Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? 
 
 Pis. Sir, as I think. 
 
 Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. — Sirrah, 
 if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true 
 service; undergo those employments wherein I 
 should have cause to use thee, with a serious in- 
 dustry,— that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, 
 to perform it. directly and truly, — I would think 
 thee an honest man : thou shouldst neither want 
 my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy pre- 
 ferment. 
 
 Pis. Well, my good lord. 
 
 * Than any lady, than all ladies^ than all womanJand. 
 
 Clo. Wilt thou serve me ? For since patiently and 
 constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of 
 that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the 
 course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of 
 mine. Wilt thou serve me? 
 
 Pis. Sir, I will. 
 
 Clo. Give me thy hand, here's ray purse. Hast 
 any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? _ 
 
 Pis. 1 liave, my lord,'at my lodgings, the same 
 suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and 
 mistress. 
 
 Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetcli that 
 suit hither : lot it he thy first service : go. 
 
 Pis. I shall, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven:— I forgot to 
 ask liim one thing: I'll remcmher't anon: — Even 
 there, thou villain. Posthumus, will I kill thee. — I 
 would these garments were come. She said upon 
 a time, (the i>itteriiess of it I now belch from my 
 heart,) that she held the very garment of Posthu- 
 mus in more respect than my noble and natural 
 person, together with the adornment of my quali- 
 ties. With that suit upon my back will 1 ravish 
 her: First kill him, and in her eyes: there shall she 
 see my valor, which will then be a torment to her 
 contempt. He on the ground, my s])eecli of in- 
 sultment ended on his dead body, — and when my 
 lust hath dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will 
 execute in the clothes that she 'so praised,) to the 
 court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. — 
 She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be ma-ry 
 in my revenge. 
 
 Re-enter Pisanio, witli ilie Clotties. 
 Be those the garments ? 
 
 Pis. Ay, my noble lord. 
 
 Clo. How long is"t since she went to Jlilford- 
 Haven \ 
 
 Pis. She can scarce be there yet. 
 
 Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that Is 
 the second thing that I have commanded thee : the 
 tliird is, that thou slialt be a voluntary mute to my 
 design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall 
 tender itself to tliee. — My revenge is now at Mil- 
 ford: 'Would I had wings to follow it! — Come, 
 and be true. [Exit. 
 
 Pis. Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee, 
 Were to prove lalse, which 1 will never be. 
 To him that is most true.— To Milford go. 
 And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow, 
 Vou heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed 
 Be cross'd with slowness; labor be his meed ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE yi.— Before tlie Cave o/Belarius. 
 Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clotties. 
 Tmo. I see a man's life is a tedious one: 
 I have tired myself; and for two nights together 
 Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, 
 Hut that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 
 When "from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd^hce, 
 Tliou wast within a ken: O .love! I think. 
 Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, 
 \Vhere they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, 
 I could not miss my way : Will poor lolks lie, 
 That have afllictions on them ; knowing 'tis 
 A nunishnient, or trial? Yes; no wonder. 
 When rich ones scarce tell true : To lapse in fulness 
 Is sorer, than to lie lor need; and falsehood 
 Is worse in Kings than beggars. — My dear lord ! 
 Thou art one o' the lalse ones: Now I think on thee, 
 My hunger's gone ; but even before, I was 
 At point to sink for food. — But what is this? 
 Here is a path to it : 'Tis some savage hold: 
 I were best not call : I dare not call : yet famine. 
 Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. 
 Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardn<?ss ever 
 Of hardiness is mother. — Ho! who's here? 
 If any thing that's civil, speak ; if savage. 
 Take, or lend. — Ho !— No answer? then I'll enter 
 Best draw my sword : and if mine enemy 
 But fear the sword like me. he'll scareely look on'f. 
 Such a foe, good heavens ! [Slie goes into tlie Cave. 
 
 Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. 
 Bet. Vou, Polydore, have prov'dbest woodman,^ 
 and 
 Are master of the feast : Cadwal, and I, 
 Will play the cook and servant ; 'tis our match j* 
 2 Best hunter. » Ajrreemtut. 
 
628 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 The sweat of industry would dry, and die, 
 liut Ibr tlic end it works to. Come; our stomachs 
 Will make wliat's Iiomely, savory: Weariness 
 Can snore upon the tlint, when restive sloth 
 Finds tlic down pillow liard. — Now, peace be here, 
 Poor house, that keep'st thyself! 
 
 GuL . I am thorougfdy weary. 
 
 Arv. I am weak with toil, yet stronjLi in appetite. 
 
 Gui. There's cold meat 1' the cave; VeUl browze 
 on that, 
 Whilst what we have killM be cook'd. 
 
 Bel. Stay ; come not in : 
 
 [Looking in. 
 But tliat it eats our victuals, I should thuik 
 Here were a lairy. 
 
 Gui. What's the matter, sirl 
 
 Bel. By Jupiter, an angel ! or, i( not, 
 An earthly paraxon! — Behold diviueness 
 No elder than a boy ! 
 
 £nier Imogen. 
 
 Into. Good masters, harm me not: 
 Before I entcrM here, I cali'd; and thought 
 To have begg'd, or bought, what 1 have took : Good 
 
 troth, 
 I have stolen naught ; nor would not, though I had 
 
 found 
 Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for my 
 
 meat : 
 I would have left it on the board, so soon 
 As I had made my meal ; and parted 
 With prayers for the provider. 
 
 Gui. Money, youth? 
 
 Ari\ All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! 
 As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those 
 Who worship dirty gods. 
 
 Jmo. I see you are angry : 
 
 Know, if you kill me for my liiult, I should 
 Have died, had I not made it. 
 
 Bel. Whither bound 1 
 
 Imo. To Milford-Havcn, sir. 
 
 Bel. What is your name ? 
 
 I//W. Fidolc, sir: I have a kiiis^iuan. wlio 
 Is bound lor Italy; he cmbarkM ul Milihrd: 
 To whom beiug t^oing, almost sjiLiit with hunger, 
 I am liillen in-^ this ollence. 
 
 Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth, 
 
 Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds 
 By this rude place we live in. Well cncounter'd ! 
 'Tis almost night: you siiallhave better cheer 
 Kre you depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it. — 
 Boys, bid him welcome. 
 
 Gui. Were you a woman, youth, 
 
 I should woo hard, but be your groom. — In honesty, 
 I bid for you, as I'd buy. 
 
 A7'V. I'll make't my comfort, 
 
 He is a man ; I'll love him as my brother: — 
 
 And such a welcome as I'd give to him, 
 
 After long absence, such is yours : — Most welcome ! 
 
 Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. 
 
 Into. 'Mongst friends " 
 
 If brothers? — Would it had been so, that 
 
 they 
 Had been my father's sons! then had my \ Aside, 
 
 prize 
 Been less ; and so more equal ballasting 
 To thee, Posthiimus. 
 
 Bel. ' He v\Tings at some distress, 
 
 Gui. Would I could free't I 
 
 Arc. Or I ; whate'er it be, 
 
 What pain it cost, what danger ! Gods ! 
 
 Bel. Hark, boys. 
 
 [IVhispering* 
 
 Imo. Great men. 
 That had a court no bigger than this cave, 
 That did attend themselves, that had the virtue 
 Which tiieir own conscience seai'd tliem, (laying by 
 That nothing gift of ditlering multitudes,) 
 Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods ! 
 I'd change my sex to be companion with thorn, 
 Since Leonatus' ialse. 
 
 Bel. It shall be so : 
 
 Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. — Fair youth, come in: 
 Discourse is iicavy, lasting; when we have supp'd. 
 We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, 
 So far as thou wilt speak it. 
 
 Gui. Pray, draw near. 
 
 Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, 
 less welcome. 
 
 Imo. Thanks, sir. 
 
 Arv. I pray, draw near. [Exetmt, 
 
 SCENE VII.— Rome. 
 Enter two Senators and Tribimes. 
 
 1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ: 
 That since the common men are now in action 
 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians: 
 
 And that the legions now in Gallia are 
 Full weak to undertake our wars against 
 The fallen-oll Bi'itons; that wc do incite 
 Tlie gentry to this business: He creates 
 Lucius pro-consul : and to you the tribunes, 
 For this immediate levy, he commands 
 His absolute roiiLmission. Long live Casar! 
 Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces ? 
 
 2 Sen. Ay. 
 Tri. Remaining now in Gallia 1 
 
 1 Sen. With those legions 
 
 Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 
 Mnstbesupplyant: The wordsof your commission 
 Will tie you lo the numbers, and Uie time 
 Of Iheir despatch. 
 
 Tri. . We will discharge our duty. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Whales. The Forest, near the Cave. 
 Enter Clote\. 
 
 Cln. I am near to the place where they should 
 meet, it Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his 
 garments serve me! Why should his mistress, wiio 
 was made by him that liiade the tailor, not be fit 
 too f the rather (saving reverence o-f the word) for 
 'tis said, a woman's litness comes by tits. Therein 
 1 must play the worlonan. I dare "speak it to my- 
 self, (for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass 
 to conler, — in his own ciiainber. I mean,) the lines 
 of my body areas well drawn as his; no less young, 
 moio strong, not beneath him in ibrtunes, beyond 
 him in the advantage ofIhetime,above him in birth, 
 alike conversant in general services, and more re- 
 markable in single oppositions;^ yet this impersc- 
 verant Ihingjoves him in my despite. What mor- 
 tality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is grow- 
 mg upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour he 
 otV; thy mistress rnlbrred; thy garments cut to 
 pircrs before thy (iice: and nil this done, spurn her 
 iiome to iu-r llillicr; who may, haply, be a little 
 angVy for my so rough usage: hut 'my mother, 
 having power of hiri testiness, shall turn all into 
 * In, for iuto. • In single comb;it.. 
 
 my commendations. My horse is tied up safe : Out 
 sword, and to a sore purpose ! Fortune ! put them 
 intt) my hand! This is the very description of their 
 meeting-place; and the fellow dares not drceive 
 me. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE n.— Before the Cave. 
 Enter, from the Cure, BELAnifS, Guideuius, 
 
 AuviRAGUS, and Imocex. 
 Bel. You are not well; [To Imogen.] remain 
 here in the cave; 
 We'll come to you after hunting. 
 Arv. Brother, stay here; 
 
 [To I.MOGE.-*. 
 
 Are we not brothers? 
 
 Imo. So man and man sliould be ; 
 
 But clay and clay ditTers in dignity. 
 Whose dust, is both alike. — I am very sick. 
 
 Gui. Go you to liunting, I'll abide with him. 
 
 hno. So sick I am not : yet I am not well : 
 But not so citizen a wanton, as 
 To seem tn die, ere sick : So please you leave me ; 
 Slick to your journal'' course: the breach of custom 
 Is breach of all. I am ill; but your being by me 
 Cannot amend me: Society is no comfort 
 • Keep your daily course. 
 
FCENE n. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 629 
 
 To one not sociable : I'm not very sick. 
 Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: 
 I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, 
 Stealing so poorly. 
 
 Cui. I love thee ; I have spoke it: 
 
 How much the quantity, the weight as much. 
 As I do love my father. 
 
 Bel. What? hovf? howl 
 
 Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 
 In my good brother's fault: I know not why 
 I love this youth ; and I have heard vou say. 
 Love's reason's without reason ; thcTjier at door, 
 And a demand, who is't shall die, I'd say. 
 Mil father, not this youth. 
 
 Bel. O noble strain ! [Aside. 
 
 worthiness of nature ! breed of greatness : 
 Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base: 
 Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and 
 
 grace. 
 
 1 am not their father; vet who this should be, 
 Doth miracle itself, lovM before me. — 
 
 'Tis the ninth hour o' the mom. 
 Arv. Brother, farewell. 
 
 lino. I wish ye sport. 
 
 Arv. You health.— So please you, sir. 
 
 lino. [A.fiile.] Tliese are kind creatures. Gods, 
 what lies I have heard ! 
 Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court: 
 Kspericnce, O. thou disprov'st report ! 
 Tile imperious^ seas breed monsters; for the dish. 
 Poor tribulAry rivers as sweet fish. 
 I am sick still; heart-sick: — Pisanio, 
 I'll now taste of Ihy drug. 
 
 Gui. I could not stir bim: 
 
 He said, he was gentle,^ but unfoftunatc; 
 Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. 
 
 Arv. Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter 
 I might know more. 
 
 Bel. To the field, (o the field.— 
 
 We'll leave you for this time : go in, and rest. 
 .irr. We'll not be long away. 
 Bel. • Pray, be not sick, 
 
 For you must be our housewife. 
 
 Iiiin. Well, or ill, 
 
 I am bound to you. 
 Bel. And so shalt be ever. 
 
 [Exit iMOfiKN. 
 This youth, howe'er distrcss'd, appears, he hath had 
 Good ancestors. 
 Arv. How angel-like he sings! 
 
 Cut But his neat cookery! he cut our roots in 
 characters ; 
 And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick, 
 And he her dieter. 
 
 Arv. Nobly he yokes 
 
 A smiling with a sigh ; as if the sigh 
 Was that it was, for not being such a smile ; 
 The smile mocking the sigh, that it would tly 
 From so divine a temple, to commix 
 With winds tliat sailors rail at. 
 
 Gui. I do note. 
 
 That grief and patience, rooted in him both, 
 Mingle tiicir spurs'" together. 
 
 Arv. Grow, patience ! 
 
 And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 
 His perishing root, with the increasing vine ! 
 Bel. It is great morning. Come; away. — Who's 
 there ? 
 
 Enter Clote.n'. 
 Clo. I cannot find those runagates; tliat villain 
 Hath mock'd me: — I am faint. 
 
 Bel. Those runagates ! 
 
 Means he not us ] I partly know him ; 'tis 
 Cloten. the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. 
 I saw him not these many years, and yet 
 I know 'tis he: — We are held as outlaws: — Hence. 
 Giti. He is but one: you and my brother, search 
 Wliat companies are near: pray you, away; 
 Let me alone with him. 
 
 [Exeunt Belarius nnd AnvinAGCS. 
 Clo. Soil! Wliatareyou 
 
 That fly me thus] some villain mountaineersl 
 I have heard of such. — What slave art thou ? 
 
 Gui. A thing 
 
 More slavish did I ne'er, than answering 
 A slave, without a knock. 
 
 Ci'o. Thou art a robber, 
 
 A law-breaker, a villain: Yield tlice, thief. 
 ' Imperial, o Well-boru. s Spurs are the roots of trees. 
 
 Gui. To who? totheel What art thou? Have 
 not I 
 An arm as big as thine? a lie.art as big? 
 Thy words, I grant, are bigger; tor I wear not 
 j\Iy' dagger in my mouth. Say, what thou art; 
 Why I should yield to thee? 
 
 Ctii. Thou villain base, 
 
 Knnw'st me not by my clothes ? 
 
 Gtii. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 
 
 Who is thy grandlather; he made those clothes, 
 Which, as it seems, make thee. 
 
 Cki. Thou precious varlct, 
 
 My tailor made them not. 
 
 Gui. Hence then, and thank 
 
 The man that gave them thee. Thou art some tool; 
 1 am loath to beat Ihee. 
 
 Vlo. Thou injurious thict, 
 
 Hear but my name, and tremble. 
 
 Gui. What's thy name? 
 
 Cln. Cloten, thou villain. 
 
 Giti. Cloten. thou double villain, be thy name, 
 I cannot tremble at it; werc't toad, or adder, spider, 
 'Twould move me sooner. 
 
 Clo. To thy further fear. 
 
 Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know 
 I'm son to the queen. 
 
 Gui. I'm sorry for't; not seeming 
 
 So worthy as thy birth. 
 
 Clo. ' Art not afcard ? 
 
 Gui. Those that I reverence, those I tear; the wise: 
 At tliols I laugh, not liiar them. 
 
 Clo. Die the death: 
 
 When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 
 I'll llillow those that even now tied hence. 
 And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads: 
 Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt. fighting. 
 
 Enter Belarius and Arviragcs. 
 
 Bel. No company's abroad. 
 
 Arv. None in the world: You did mistake him, 
 sure. 
 
 Bel. I cannot tell : Long is it since I saw him. 
 But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favor' 
 Wliicli then he wore; tlie snatches in his voice. 
 And burst of speaking, were as his : I am absolute, 
 'Twas very Cloten. 
 
 Arv. In this place we lell them ; 
 
 I wish mv brother make good time with him, 
 Vou say he is so fell. 
 
 Bel. Being scarce made up, 
 
 I mean, to man. he !iad not apprehension 
 
 Of roaring terrors; for the ctiect of judgment 
 
 Is olt the cause of fear: But see, thy brother. 
 
 Re-enter Gctderius, with Clotes's Uead, 
 
 Gui, This Cloten was a fool; an empty purse, 
 There was no money in't: not Hercules 
 Could have knock'd out his brains, tor he had none: 
 Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne 
 My head as I do his. 
 
 Bel. What hast thou done? 
 
 Gui. I am perl'ect, what ; cut otione Cloten's head, 
 Son to the (iiieeii, after his own report; 
 Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore. 
 With his own single baud he'd take us-in,2 
 Displace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they 
 
 grow. 
 And set them on Lud's town. 
 
 Bel. We are all undone. 
 
 Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose 
 But, that he swore to lake, our lives? The law 
 Protects not us: Then why should we be tender. 
 To let an arrogant piece of fiesli threat us ; 
 Play judge, and executioner, all himself; 
 For we do fear the law ? Wliat company 
 Discover you abroad? 
 
 Bel. No single soul 
 
 Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason. 
 He must have-some attendants. Though his humor 
 Was nothing but mutation ; ay, and that 
 From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not 
 Absolute madness could so far have raved. 
 To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps, 
 It may be heard at court, that such as we 
 Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time 
 May make pomcstronger head: the which he hearing, 
 (As it is like him,) might break out and swear 
 He'd fetch us in ; yet is't not probable 
 To come alone, either he so undertaking, 
 
 * Countenauce. * Conquer, eubdue. 
 
G30 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 Act ly. 
 
 Or they so siiflt'iinfr: thrn on fcond ground we fear, 
 If we do four thi* body hath a tail 
 More perilous than the head. . 
 
 Arv. Let ordinance 
 
 Come as the ends forcsay it: howsoe'er, 
 My brother hath done well. 
 
 Bei. I had no mind 
 
 To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness 
 Did make my way long ibrth. 
 
 Gui. With his own sword, 
 
 Which he did wave against my throat, I Jiave ta'cn 
 His head from him : I'll throw't into the creek 
 Behind our rock; and let it to the sea, 
 And tell the fishes he's tlie queen's son, Cloten : 
 That's all I reck 3 [Exif. 
 
 Bel. I fear, 'twill be revenged: 
 
 'Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done't ! though 
 
 valor 
 Becomes tliee well enough. 
 
 Arv. 'Would I had done't, 
 
 So the revenge alone pursued me ! — Polydore, 
 I love thee brotherly; but envy much, 
 Thouliastrobb'dmeoftliisdeed; I would. revenges, 
 That possible strength might meet, would seek us 
 
 through. 
 And put us to our answer. 
 
 Bel. Well, 'tis done:— 
 
 We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger 
 Where there's no prolit. I pr'ythee, to our rock; 
 You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay 
 Ttll hasty Polydore return, and bring him 
 To ditmer presently. 
 
 Arr. Poor sick Fidele ! 
 
 I'll willingly to him : To gain his color, 
 I'd let a parish of such Clotens' blood, 
 And praise myself for charity. [Exif. 
 
 Be!. thou goddess, 
 
 Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st 
 In these two princely boys! They are as gentle 
 As zephyrs, blowing Ijolow the violet. 
 Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, 
 Their royal blood enchafed, as the rnd'st wind, 
 That by the toj) doth take the mountain pine, 
 And make him stoop to the vale. *Tis wonderful, 
 Tliat an invisible instinct should frame them 
 To royalty unlearn''d ; honor untaught; 
 Civility not seen from other; valor, 
 That wildly grows in tliem. but yields a crop 
 As if it had been sow'd ! Yet still it's strange 
 What Clolen's being here to us portends; 
 Or wliat his death will bring us. 
 
 • Re-enier GuiDEiiius. 
 
 Gui. Where's my brother? 
 
 1 have sent Clolen's clot-poll down the stream, 
 In embassy to his niolhcr; his body's hostage 
 For his return. [ Sole irm music. 
 
 Bel. My ingenious instrument! 
 
 Hark. Polydore, it sounds ! But what occasion 
 ilalh Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark ! 
 
 Gui. Is he at home ? 
 
 Bel. He went hence even now. 
 
 Gui. What does he mean ] since death of my 
 dear'st mother 
 It did not speak before. All solemn things 
 Should answer soienni accidcnis. Tin* matterT 
 Triumphs for nothnig, and latuenting toys,'' 
 Is joliily lor apes, and grief lor boys. 
 Is Cadwal mad I 
 
 Re-cnlcr Auviuagus, hearing Imogen as deadj m 
 his arms. 
 
 B(L Look, here he comes, 
 
 And t)rings the dire occasion in his arms, 
 01' what we blame him fori 
 
 Arv. The bird is dead, 
 
 Thai we have made so much on. I had rall)er 
 Have sivipp'fl tVum sixteen years of age, to sixty. 
 To ha\e luin'd my Icaping-time into a crulcli, 
 Thiui have seen this. 
 
 ('•'li. sweetest, fairest lily ; 
 
 My lirother wears not thee one-half so well, 
 As when tliou grcw'sL thyself. 
 
 Bel. O, melancholy ! 
 
 Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find 
 'I^ie ooze, io show what coast thy sluu'^'i^li crare^ 
 Alight easiliest harbor in f— Tliou hlesscd tiling! 
 Jove knows what man thou nuglit'st Jiave made; 
 
 but I, 
 » Care. * TrilJeB.' • A glow-Failing, unwieldy Vessel. 
 
 Thou dicdst, a most rare boy, of melancholy !^ 
 How found you him? 
 
 Arv. Stark,c as you see : 
 
 Thus smiling, as some fly liad tickled slumber, 
 Not as death's dart, benig laughM at: his right 
 
 cheek 
 Reposing on a cushion. 
 
 Gui. Where? 
 
 Ai-v. 0' the floor; 
 
 His arms thusleagu'd: I thought he slept; and put 
 My clouted brogues" from ofl'my feet, wiiose rude- 
 ness 
 AnswerM my steps too loud. 
 
 Gui. Why, he but sleeps: 
 
 If he be gone, heUl make his grave a bed; 
 With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
 And worms will not come to thee. 
 
 Arv. With fairest flowers, 
 
 Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
 I'll sweeten thy sad ^'rave: Thou shalt not lack 
 The flower, thiilV Irke tliy face, pale primrose; nor 
 The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor 
 The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
 Out-sweeteuMnot thy breath: tiic rudducK'* would, 
 With charitable hill, (0 bill, sore-shaming 
 Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie 
 Without a monument !) !)ring thee all this; 
 Yea, and furrM moss besides, when flowers are 
 
 none, 
 To winter-ground^ tliy corse. 
 
 Gui. Pr'ythee, have done. 
 
 And do not play in wench-like words, with that 
 Which is so serious. Let us bury him. 
 And not protract with admiration what 
 Is now due debt. — To the grave. 
 
 Arv. Say, where shalPs lay him ? 
 
 Gui, By good Euripliile, our mother. 
 
 Arv. BeH so: 
 
 And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
 Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the 
 
 ground, 
 As once our mother; us^Iike note, and words, 
 Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. 
 
 Gui. Cadwal, 
 I cannot sing : Til weep, and word it with thee : 
 For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 
 Than priests and fanes tliat lie. 
 
 Arv. We'll speak it, then,. 
 
 Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for 
 Cloten 
 Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: 
 And, though he came our enemy, remember, 
 He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty, 
 
 rotting 
 Together, have one dust ; yet reverence 
 (That angel of the world) doth make distinction 
 Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely ; 
 And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
 Yet bury him as a prince. 
 
 Gui. 'Pray you, fetch him hither 
 
 Thersitcs' body is as good as Ajax, 
 When neither are alive. 
 
 Arv. If you'll go fetch him, 
 
 We'll say our song the whilst.— Brother, begin. 
 
 {Exit BELARItTS- 
 
 Gui Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the 
 east ; 
 My father hath a reason for't. 
 Arv. 'Tis true. 
 
 Gni. Come on tlien, and remove him. 
 Arv. So, — begin 
 
 SON a 
 
 (iui. Fear no nurre the heal cP fhe M/n, 
 
 Nor the furious wlnler'^s rages; 
 
 Thou Ihyinrrldly task huM fUtue, 
 
 Home art gime, and ta'en thy ivages. 
 Golden lads and girls all must. 
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 
 
 Arv. Fear no more the frown o" the great, 
 Tlum art past the tyrant^s stroke; 
 Care 7io more In clotlie, and eat; 
 To thte the rttd i.s a.s the oak: 
 
 The srrpfre, Irarr/itif:, p/iysic, micst 
 All follow this, and rn/nc to r/(/.s/. 
 
 « Stiff. 1 Shoes plated with iron. 8 The rod-liro.ist 
 I'lobably a corrui't reiidiog lur ivither rvund thy corse. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 631 
 
 Gui. Fear no more Me liifhfnin/!; flash, 
 Arv. Nnr Ihe a Ll-dreaited thuwler-stone; 
 Giii. Fear nut .slnmler, censure^ rmh; 
 Arv. Thou hnxt finished joii and moan: 
 lioi\\.AU Umers young, all lovers must 
 Cunsign- to thee, and come to dual. 
 
 Gui. No cxorciser harm thee ! 
 Arv. AV,;- 710 witchcraft charm thee .' 
 Gui. (Ihdst inilaii! t'orlirar thee ! 
 Arv. Kcthiiig ill Clinic near thee! 
 Both. Quiet cimsummalinn have; 
 And renowned be lliy grave! 
 
 Re-enter BEL.tRivs, with the Body of Clotes. 
 Gui. We liave done our obsequies: Come, lay 
 
 liim down. 
 Bel. Here's a few flowers, T)ut about midnight, 
 more: ' , . , 
 
 The hcr!)s, that have on them cold dew o' the night, 
 Are strcwiiiijs liW'st for graves. — Upon their 
 
 lacos : — 
 You wore as Ihiwers, now wither'd: even so 
 These hcrlj'h^ls shall, which wc upon you strow.— 
 Come on, away : apart, upon our knees. 
 The ground, that gave them lirst, has them again ; 
 Their pleasures here arc past, so is their pain. 
 
 'lExeunt Bel.\kics, Glideiul-s, and 
 Ahviragcs. 
 Imo. [Awaliing.] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; 
 vvhicli is tlie way] — 
 I thank you. — By yon bush 7 — Pray, how far 
 
 thithcrl 
 'Ods pittildns l^—can it be six miles yet? 
 1 have gone all uiglit:— 'Faith, I'll He down and 
 
 sleep. 
 But, soft, no bedfellow :— 0, gods and goddesses ! 
 
 [Seeing the Body. 
 Tiiese flowers are like the pleasures of tlie world ; 
 Tills bloody man, tlie care oii't.— I hope 1 dream ; 
 For, so, 1 thouglit I was a cavc-kecjier. 
 And cook to luinest creatures: But 'tis not so; 
 'Twas Imt a bolt' of notliing, shot at notliiiig. 
 Wliich tlic brain makes of luines : Our very eyes 
 Are sometimes lilie our judgments, blind. Good 
 
 faitli. 
 I tremble still with fear: But if tliere be 
 Yet left in licaven as small a drop of pity 
 As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! 
 The dream's here still : even wlicn 1 wal<e, it is 
 Without me, as witliin me; not iinagiii'd, lelt. 
 A hcLidlcss man ! — Tlic garments of Posthiiinus! 
 1 know the shaue of his leg: this is his hand; 
 His Iciot Mercurial; his Martial thigh: 
 The brawns ol Hercules ; but his Jovial' face- 
 Murder in lieaven'!— Howl— 'Tis gone.- Pisa- 
 
 nio. 
 All curses madded Hecuba gave tlie Greeks, 
 And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, 
 Conspir'd with that irrcgulousS dovil, Cloten, 
 Hast here cut olf my lord.— To write, and read, 
 lie henceforth treacherous. Damn'd Pisanio, 
 Hath with his forged letters,— damn'd Pisanio— 
 From this most bravest vessel of the world 
 Struck the main-top!— O, Posthumus! alas. 
 Where is thy head ! Where's that ! Ah me I where's 
 
 that ! 
 Pisanio might have kiU'd thee at the heart. 
 And left this head on.— How should this be ! Pi- 
 sanio 1 
 'Tis he, and Cloten : malice and lucre in them 
 Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, preg- 
 nant !' 
 The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious 
 And cordial to me, have I not found it 
 jrurd'rous to the senses'! That confirms it home: 
 This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's : O !— 
 Give color to my pale cheek with thy blood, 
 That w-e the horrider may seem to those 
 Which chance to find us: 0, my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Enter Lucirs, a Captain, and other Officers, and 
 a Sootlisayer. 
 Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, 
 I .Ijid'^mcnt. * •'*<^al the s.ime contract* 
 
 aTbiadimiuutive adjuration is derived from 6V>d'j( my 
 
 Bify. « An arrow. 
 
 • A &C8 like .love's. = Lawless, licentious. 
 
 1 1, c. 'Tis a ready, apposite conclusiou. 
 
 \fter your will, have cross'd the sea: attending 
 You here at Milford-Haven, with your ships: 
 They are here in readiness. 
 7,„c. But what from Rome 7 
 
 Co;). The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, 
 And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits. 
 That promise noble service : and tliey come 
 Under the conduct of bold lachimo. 
 Sienna's brotiier. 
 Luc. When expect you them 7 
 
 Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind. 
 Luc. This forwardness 
 
 Makes our liopes fair. Command, our present 
 
 numbers 
 Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't.— Now,sir, 
 What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's pur- 
 pose ! 
 Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me a 
 vision : 
 fl fast. and pray'd. for their intelligence:) Thus:— 
 I saw Jove's bird, tiie Roman eagle, wing'd 
 From the spon:;v soutli to tliis part of the west. 
 There vanisb'd I'n the sunbeams: wliich portends 
 (Unless my sins abuse my divination) 
 Success to the Roman host. 
 
 Luc. Dream often so. 
 
 And never false.— Soft, ho! what trunk is here. 
 Without his top ! The ruin speaks, that sometime 
 It was a worthy building.— How ! a page!— 
 Or dead, or slcei>iiig on him 1 But dead, rather: 
 For nature dotli abhor to make his bed 
 With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead.— 
 Let's see the boy"s face. 
 
 Cap. He is alive, my lord. 
 
 Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body.— 
 Young one. 
 Inform us of thy Ibrtunes; for, it seems. 
 They crave to lie demanded : Who is this, 
 Tlio'u mak'st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he, 
 Tliat, otherwise tiian noble nature did, 
 Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy in- 
 terest 
 In this sad wreck 7 How came it ! V,'ho is it ! 
 What art thou! 
 
 Imo. I am nothing: or, if not, 
 
 Notliing to be were better. This was my master, 
 A very valiant Britain, and a good, 
 Tliat here by mountaineers lies slain: — Alas! 
 There are no more such masters : 1 may wander 
 From east to Occident, cry out lor service, 
 Try many, all good, serve truly, never 
 Find such another master. 
 
 Luc. 'Lack, good youth ! 
 
 Tliou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than 
 Thy masier in bleeding : Say his name, good liiend. 
 
 Imo. Richard du Champ. If I do lie, and do 
 No harm by it, though the gods hear, I liope 
 
 [Aside. 
 They'll pardon it.— Say you, sir 1 
 Luc. Thy name ? 
 
 Imo. Fidele; 
 
 Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same: 
 Thy name well lits thy liiitli; thy faith, thy name. 
 Wilt take thy chance with me ! I will not say.. 
 Thou slialt he so well m,ister'd; but, be sure. 
 No less belov'd. The Roman cmiieror's letters. 
 Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner 
 Than thine own worth, preler thee: Go with me. 
 Imo. I'll follow, sir. But fiist, an't please the 
 gods, 
 I'll hide iny master from the flies, as deep 
 As these poor pickaxes'' can dig : and when 
 'vVith wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd 
 
 his grave. 
 And on it said a century of prayers, 
 Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh ; 
 And, leaving so his service, follow you, 
 So please you entertain me. 
 
 Luc. Ay, good youth ; 
 
 And rather father thee, than master thee.— 
 My triends. 
 
 The boy hath taught us manly duties: Let us- 
 Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can. 
 And make him with our pikes and partizans 
 A grave: Come, arm him.— Boy, he is pieferr'd 
 By thee to us; and he shall be inlerr'd, 
 As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes. 
 Some falls are means the happier to arise. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 8 Her fingers. 
 
632 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 SCENE III. — A Room in Cymbelinc*'s Palace* 
 Enter Ci-mremn'E, Lords, and Pisanio. 
 
 Cym, Affain; and bring mc word how 'tis with 
 her. 
 A fever with the absence of her sou ; 
 A madness, of which her life's in danger : — 
 
 Heavens, 
 How deeply you at once do touch mc ! Imo°;en, 
 The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen 
 Dpou a desperate bed; and in a time 
 When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, 
 So needful for this present: It strikes me, past 
 The hope of comlort. — But lor thee, fellijw, 
 Who needs must know of her departure, and 
 Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee 
 By a sharp torture. 
 
 Pi-f. Sir, my life is yours: 
 
 I humbly set it at your will : But, for my mistress, 
 1 nothing know where she remains, why gone, 
 Nor when slic purposes return. 'Beseech your 
 
 highness. 
 Hold me your loj'al servant. 
 
 1 Lord. Good my liege, 
 
 The daj' that she was missing, he was here: 
 I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform 
 All parts of his subjection loyally. 
 For Cloten,— 
 
 There want^s no diligence in seeking him, 
 And will, no doubt, be found. 
 
 Cifm. The time's troublesome: 
 
 Weil slip you for a season ; but our jealousy 
 
 [Tu Pisanio. 
 Does yet depend. 
 
 1 Lord. So please your majesty. 
 
 The Roman legions, all from'Gallia drawn. 
 Are litnded on your coast; with a supply 
 Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. 
 
 Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and queen! — 
 I aiii amaz'd with matter.^ 
 
 1 Lord. Good my liege, 
 
 Your preparation can affront' no less 
 Than what you hear of: come more, for more 
 
 you're ready : 
 Tlie want is, but to put those powers in motion, 
 Tlint long to move. 
 
 Vijni. I thank you: Let's withdraw; 
 
 And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not 
 What can from Italy annoy us; but 
 We grieve at chances here. — Away. [Exeitnt. 
 
 Pw. I heard no letter from my master, since 
 I wrole him, Imogen was slain : 'Tis strange : 
 Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise 
 To yield me oflen tidings : Neither know I 
 What is betid to Cloten ; but remain 
 Perplex'd in ail. The heavens still must work: 
 Wherein I am false,! am honest; not true, to be true. 
 These present wars shall find I loye my country, 
 Kvnn to the note-^ o' the king, or 1*11 fall in them. 
 All other doubts, by time let them be clear 'd: 
 Fortune brings in some boats, that arc not steerM. 
 
 [Exii. 
 
 SCENE IV.—Bffore the Cave. 
 
 Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. 
 
 Gut The noise is round about us. 
 
 Bel. 
 
 Let us from it. 
 
 Arv. W^hat pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it 
 From action and adventure 1 
 
 Gut. Nay, what hope 
 
 Have we in hiding us"? this way, the Romans 
 Must or for Britons slay us ; or receive us 
 For barbarous and unnatural revolts-* 
 During their use, and slay us alter. 
 
 Bel. Sons, 
 
 We'll higher to the mountains ; there secure U3, 
 To the king's party there's no going: newness 
 Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not muster'd 
 Among the bands) may drive us to a render^ 
 Where we have liv'd ; and so extort from us 
 That which we've done, whose answer would bo 
 
 death 
 Drawn on with torture. 
 
 Gut This is, sir, a doubt, 
 
 In such a time, nothing becoming you, 
 Nor satisfying us. 
 
 Arv. It 18 not likely, 
 
 That when they hear the Roman horses neigh. 
 Behold their quartcr'd fires, have both their eyes 
 And ears so cloy'd importantly as now. 
 That they will waste their time ujxjn our note,6 
 To know from whence we are. 
 
 Be/. 0, 1 am knomi 
 
 Of many in the army: many years, 
 Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore 
 
 him 
 From my remembrance. And, besides, the king 
 Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves; 
 Who lind in my exile the want of breeding, 
 The certainty of this hard life ; aye hopeless 
 To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, 
 But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and 
 The shrinking slaves of winter. 
 
 Gut Than be so, 
 
 Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: 
 I and my brother arc not known^ yourself, 
 So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, 
 Cannot be question'd. 
 
 Art'. By this sun that shines, 
 
 I'll thither: What thing is it, that I never 
 Did see man die 1 scarce ever look'd on blood. 
 But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison'? 
 Never bestrid a herse, save one, that had 
 A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel 
 Nor iron on his heel ! I am ashamed 
 To look upon the holy sun, to have 
 The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining 
 So long a poor unknown. 
 
 Gut By heavens, I'll go: 
 
 If you will bless me, sir, and give ine leave, 
 I'll take the better care; but if you will not, 
 The hazard Iherelbre due fall on mc, by 
 The hands of Romans! 
 
 Ari\ So say I; Amen. 
 
 Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set 
 So slight a valuation, should reserve 
 My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, 
 
 boys : 
 If in your country wars you chance to die. 
 That is my bed too, lads, and tliere I'll lie : 
 Lead, lead. — The time seems long; their blood 
 tliinks scorn, [Aside, 
 
 Till it fly out, and show them princes born. 
 
 [ Ei-eunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.—A Field hefwcen the British and Ro- 
 man Camps. 
 
 Enter Postiuthius, ivith a bloody Ilandkerchiff. 
 
 Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I 
 wish'd 
 Thou slioiildst be color'd thus. You married ones, 
 If each ot you wiuild take tliis course, how many 
 Must murder wives much better than tiicinseives, 
 For wrying^ but a little — 0, Pisanio ! 
 Every good servant does not all commands : 
 No bond, but to do Just ones. — Gods ! if you 
 Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never 
 
 * Onnfnundtjd by .i variety of l.usiripss. ■ Kiu-ounter. 
 
 ■» Notice. 3 I'L-viatiuy from the right way. 
 
 Had liv'd to put on"' this : so had you sav'd 
 Tlio noble Imogen to repent; and" struck . 
 Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, 
 
 alack, 
 You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, 
 To have them fall no more : you some permit 
 To second ills with ills, each elder worse; 
 And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. 
 But Imogen is your own: Do your best wills, 
 And make me bless'd to obey! — I am brought 
 
 hither 
 Among the Italian gentry, and to fight 
 Against my lady's kingdom : 'Tis enough 
 
 « KeTolttTS. * An account 
 
 s Noticing uB. "* Incite, instigate. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 633 
 
 That, Britain, I have kill'd Ihy mistress; peace! 
 
 I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, 
 
 Hear patiently my purpose : ru disrobe me 
 
 Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself 
 
 As does a Briton peasant; so I'll tight 
 
 Against the part I come with; so I'll din 
 
 For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life 
 
 Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown, 
 
 Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 
 
 Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men taiow 
 
 More valor in me, than my habits show. 
 
 (Jods, put the strength o' tile Leonati in me ! 
 
 To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin 
 
 The fashion, less without, and more within. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE n.—The same. 
 Enter at one side, Lncius, lAcarsto, onri tlie Roman 
 Arinij; at the other svle, the British Armi/ ; 
 LEciN'ATca PoSTHUMfS fhlluwiiif; it, like a ponr 
 Suiiier, They Tiiarcli over, and gu out. Atantni^. 
 Tlieii enter a^ain in skirmUh. I aciiimo and PosT- 
 nuMfs; he vanquifheth and disarmed Iachimo, 
 and then leaves him. 
 
 Jach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom 
 Takes ollniy manhood: 1 have belied a lady. 
 The princess of this country, and the air on t 
 Revengingly enfeebles me ; Or could this carl,' 
 A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me. 
 In my profession ? Knighthoods and honors, borne 
 As 1 wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
 If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 
 This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds 
 Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. {Exit. 
 
 The Battle continues, the Britons_^i/; Cvmbelixe 
 is taken: then enter to his rescue, Belakius, 
 
 GtlDERIfS, and AUVIRAGtj'S. 
 
 Sel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage of 
 the ground; 
 The lane is guarded : nothing routs us, but 
 The villany of our fears. 
 
 Gui. An: Stand, stand, and light ! 
 
 Enttr PosTHtJsius, and seconds the Britons. Thet/ 
 
 rescue Cvmeeltse, and exeunt. Then enter 
 
 LtxiL'S, lAcniMo, and Imogen. 
 
 Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thy- 
 self: 
 For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such 
 As war were hood-wink'd. 
 
 Jach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. 
 
 Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes 
 Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Another Part of the Field. 
 Enter Posthumcs and a British Lord. 
 
 Lnrd. Cam'st thou from where they made the 
 stand ! 
 
 Post. I did : 
 
 Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. 
 
 Lord. I did. 
 
 Post. No blame be to vou, sir; for all was lost. 
 But that the heavens fought: The king himself 
 Of his wings destitute, the army broken. 
 And but the backs of Britons seen, all Hying 
 Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted. 
 Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work 
 More plentiful than tools to do"t, struck down 
 Some mortally,some slightly touch'd,some falling 
 Merely through fear; that the strait path was 
 
 damm'd^ 
 With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living 
 To die with lengthen'd shame. 
 
 Ijo-d. Where was this lane ] 
 
 Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd and wall'd 
 with turf; 
 Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, — 
 An honest one, I warrant; who deserv'd 
 So long a breeding, as his while beard came to. 
 In doing this for his country;— athwart the lane, 
 He, wish two striplings, (lads more like to run 
 Tlie c.iuniry base,' than to commit such slaughter; 
 With faces ftt for masks, or rather fairer 
 Than those fiir preservation cased, or shame,) 
 Made good the passage; cry'd to those that fled, 
 
 " Clown. 1 Blocked up. 
 
 < A coiuitry g.ime called prison-hars, vulgarly prison- 
 
 Our Britain's hnrts die flying, not our men: 
 
 To darkness fleet, souls t lint fly Imckwards .' Stand; 
 
 Or ive are Romans, and will give you that 
 
 Like beasls, which i/ou shun beastly; and jnaysave. 
 
 But to Inok back m frown: stand, stand.— These 
 
 three. 
 Three thousand confident, in act as many, 
 (For three performers are the tile, when all 
 The rest do nothing,) with this word. Stand, stand. 
 Accommodated by the place, more charming. 
 With their own nobleness,( which could have turn'd 
 A distafl'to a lance,) gilded pale looks. 
 Part, shaaie, part,spirit renew'd ; thatsome turn'd 
 
 coward 
 But fay example, (0, a sin in war 
 Danin'd in the rtrst beginners!) 'gan to look 
 The way that they did, and to grin like lions 
 Upon the pikes o" the hunters. Then began 
 A stop i' the chaser, a retire ; anon, 
 A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith they fly. 
 Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles ; slaves. 
 The strides they victors made: and now our cowards 
 (Like fragments in hard voyages) became 
 The life o' the need; having found the back-door 
 
 open 
 Of the unguarded hearts. heavens,how they wound! 
 Some, slain before; some, dying; some, their friends 
 O'erborne i' the former wave : ten, chased by one. 
 Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: 
 Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown 
 The mortal bugs^ o' the field. 
 
 Lord. This w.as strange chance! 
 
 .\ narrow lane! an old man, and two boys! 
 
 Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: You arc made 
 Rather to wonder at the things you hear, 
 Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, 
 And vent it for mockery ] Here is one: 
 Two botrs, an old man twice a boy, a lane, 
 Preserv'd th£ Britons, was the Romans' bane. 
 
 Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. 
 
 Post. 'Lack, to what end ? 
 
 Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend : 
 For if he'll do, as be is mrde to do, 
 I know he'll quickly fly mv friendship too. 
 You have put me into rhyine. 
 
 Lord. Farewell, you are angry. 
 
 „ . . [-Ej'''- 
 
 Post. Still going; — This is a lord! noble 
 misery ! 
 To be i' the tield, and ask, what news of me! 
 To-day, how many would given their honors 
 To liave sav'd their carcasses ] took heels to do't, 
 And yet died too] I, in mine omi woe charm'd. 
 Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; 
 Nor feel him where he struck: lieing an ugly 
 
 monster, 
 'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, sofi beds, 
 Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we 
 That draw his knives i' the war.— Well, I will find 
 
 him; 
 For being now a favorer to the Roman, 
 No more a Briton, I have resumed again 
 The part I came in: Fight I will no more. 
 But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall 
 Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is 
 Here made by the Roman ; great the answer bo 
 Britons must take: For me, my ransom's death; 
 On cither side I come to spend my breath ; 
 Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again. 
 But end it by some means lor Imogen. 
 
 Enter two British Captains, and Soldiers. 
 
 1 Co/). Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken: 
 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. 
 
 2 Cap There was a fourth man, in a silly habit. 
 That gave the afliont^ with them. 
 
 1 Cap. So 'tis reported: 
 But none of them can be found. — Stand! who is 
 
 there! 
 Post. A Roman ; 
 Wiio had not now been drooping here, if seconds 
 Had answered him. 
 
 2 Cap. Lav hands on liim; a dog ! 
 A leg of Rome shall not return to tell 
 
 What crows have peck'd them liere : He brags his 
 
 service 
 As if he were of note ; bring him to the king. 
 Enter Cymhelixe, attended; Belarios, GuiDEHirg, 
 Arvibagi-s, Pisanio, and Roman Captives. The 
 « Bug-bears, terrors. a i)ncounter. 
 
634 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Captains f>resent PosTHc^rus io C'V'mbemne, tvho 
 delivirs him over to a Gaoler: after which, all 
 go out, 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^ Pri'ion. 
 Enter PosTHtJMra and two Gaolers. 
 
 1 Gaal. You shall not now be stolen, you have 
 
 locks upon you ; 
 So, graze, as you find pasture. 
 
 2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. 
 
 [Exeunt Gaolers. 
 Po^t. Most welcome bondage ! tor thou art a way, 
 I think, to liberty : Yet I am better 
 Than one that's sick o' the gout ; si nco he had rather 
 Groan so in perpetuity, than be cured 
 By the sure physician, death; who is the key 
 To unbar these locks. My conscience ! thou art 
 
 fetter'd 
 More than my shanks, and wrists : You good gods, 
 
 give me 
 The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt. 
 Then free lor ever ! Is't enough. I am sorry 1 
 So children temporal Ihtliers do appease; 
 Gods are more lull of mercy. Must I repent? 
 I cannot do it better than in gyves,* 
 Dcsir'd, more than constrain'd : to satisfy, 
 If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take 
 No stricter render of me tJian my all. 
 I know, you are more clement than vile men, 
 Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
 A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again 
 On their abatement ; that's not my desire : 
 For Imogen's dear Itte, take mine ; and though 
 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: 
 'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp; 
 Though light, take pieces lor the ligure's sake: 
 You rather mine, being yours : And so, great powers, 
 If you wilt take this audit, take this liie. 
 And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen ! 
 I'll speak to thee in silence. [He sleeps 
 
 Solemn Music. Enter, as an Apparition, Sicilius 
 Lkonatus. Father to Postucmus, an old Man, 
 attired like a Warrior; leadinfi; in his Hand an 
 ancient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to Post- 
 HL'-MLT:^, ivitk Music befiire them. Ttien, after 
 other Music, folliiw the two young Leonati, Bro- 
 thei's to PoSTHUML'S. ivUh wounds, as they died in 
 the IVurs. They circle Pusthumls round, as he 
 lies sleeping. 
 Sici. No more, thou thunder-master, show, 
 
 Thy spite on mortal Hies: 
 With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, 
 
 Tiiat thy adulteries 
 
 Rates and revenges. 
 Hath my poor boy done aught but well, 
 
 Whose face I never saw \ 
 I died whilst in the womb he stay'd, 
 
 Attending Nature's law. 
 Whose father then (as men report, 
 
 Thou orphans' lather art) 
 Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him 
 
 From this earth-vexing smart. 
 Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid, 
 
 But took me in my throes: 
 That from me was Posthiiinus ript, 
 
 Came crying 'mongst his foes, 
 
 A thing of pity ! 
 
 Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry, 
 
 Moulded the stull'so lair. 
 That he dcserv'd the praise o' the world, 
 
 As great Sicilius' heir. 
 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, 
 
 In Britain where was he 
 That could stand up his parallel ; 
 
 Or fruitful object be 
 In eye of Imogen, that best 
 
 ('(luld deem his dignity? 
 Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, 
 
 To be exiled and thrown 
 From Leonati' scat, and ca?t 
 
 From her his dearest one. 
 
 Sweet Imogen ? 
 
 Sici. Why did yon suller lachimo, 
 
 Shiiht thing of Italy, 
 To t:iirit his nobler ht-nrt and brain, 
 
 Willi needless jpulousy ; 
 And to become tlu' geek'- and scorn 
 
 0' the other's villany? 
 « Fett.irs. • The fool. 
 
 2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came, 
 
 Our parents, and us twain. 
 That, striking in our country's cause, 
 
 Fell bravely, and v^'ere slain ; 
 Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, 
 
 With honor to mamtain. 
 
 1 Brn. Like hardiment, Posthdmus hath 
 
 To Cymbeline perlbrm'd : 
 Then Jupiter, tliou king of gods. 
 
 Why hast thou thusadjourn'd 
 The graces for his merits due ; 
 
 Being all to dolors turn'd? 
 Sici. Thy crjstal window ope; look out; 
 
 No longer exercise, 
 Upon a valiant race, thy harsh 
 
 And potent injuries. 
 Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, 
 
 Take oil his miseries. 
 Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion: help! 
 
 Or we poor ghosts will cry 
 To tlie shining synod of the rest, 
 
 Against thy deity. 
 
 2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, 
 
 And from tliy justice lly. 
 
 JcPiTER descends in Thunder and Lightning, sit- 
 ting upon an Eagle; he throws a Thunderbolt. 
 
 The Ghosts fall on tfif.ir knees, 
 Jup. No more, you pettj' spirits of region low, 
 
 Offi^nd our hearing: hush! — How dare yoix, 
 ghosts, 
 Accuse the thundercr, whose bolt, you Icnow, 
 
 Sky-planted, butlers all rebelling coasts \ 
 Poor shadows of Elysium, hence ; and rest 
 
 Upon your never-wilhering banks of flowers : 
 Be not with mortal accidents opprest; 
 
 No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours. 
 Whom best 1 love, I cross ; to make my gift, 
 
 The more delay 'd, delighted. Be content: 
 Your low-laid son our godiiead will uplitl.: 
 
 His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. 
 Our jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in 
 
 Our temple was he married. — Rise, and fade ! — 
 He shall be lord of lady Imogen, 
 
 And happier much by his atlliction made. 
 This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein 
 
 Our pleasure his full fortune doth contine;. 
 And so, away: no further with your din 
 
 Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. — 
 
 Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. \Ascendii. 
 
 8lcL He came in thunder: his celestial oreath 
 Was sulphurous to smell : the holy eagle 
 Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is 
 More sweet than our bless'd fields : his royal bird 
 Prunes the immortiil wing, and cloys his beak, 
 As when his god is pleas'd. 
 
 All. Thanks, Jupiter ! 
 
 Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd 
 His radiant roof: — Away ! and to be blest, 
 Let us with care perform his great behest. 
 
 [Ghosts vanisfu 
 
 Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grand- 
 sire, and begot 
 A father to rae: and thou hast created 
 A mother and tv.-o brothers: But (0 scorn !) 
 Gone! they went hence so soon as they were bom. 
 And so I am awake, — Poor wretches that depend 
 On greatness' favor, dream, as I have done; 
 Wake, and tind nothing. — But, alas, I swerve: 
 Many dream not to find, neither deserve, 
 And yet are steep'd in favors ; so am I, 
 That'have this golden chance, and know not why. — 
 Wliat lairies haunt this ground? A book? O, raie 
 
 one ! 
 Be not, as in our fangled world, a garment 
 Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects 
 So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, 
 As good as promise. 
 
 [Reads.] Wke7i as a licm'^s whelp shall, to him.'<elf 
 unknown, without seeking fin d,an<i be embraced 
 by a piece of tej}dcr air ; and wficnfrom aslafely 
 cedar shall he lopped branches, which, being 
 (had many years, shall after revive, be jointed 
 to the old stock, and f}-eshly grmv; tfien shall 
 Posthumus eu'i his miseries, iirilixin be fortunate, 
 andjlouribh in peace awl plenty. 
 
 'Tis still a dream ; or else such stulfas madmen 
 
 Tongue, and brain not cither both, or nothing; 
 
 Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such 
 
Scene V. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 C35 
 
 As sense cannot untie Be what it is, 
 The action of my life is hke it, which 
 ril lieep, it but tor sympathy. 
 
 Re-enter Gaolers. 
 
 Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death T 
 
 Post. Over-roasted ratiier : ready long ago. 
 
 Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready 
 tor that, you are well cooked. 
 
 Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spec- 
 tators, the dish pays the shot. 
 
 Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the 
 comlbrt is, you shall he called to no more payments, 
 fear no more tavern bills; which are otTen the sad- 
 ness of parting, as the procuring of mirth : you 
 come in laint fur want of meat, depart reeling with 
 too much drink ; sorry that you have paid too much, 
 and sorry that you are paid too much; purse' and 
 brain botJi enijity; the brain the heavier for being 
 too light, tiic ]nu-se too light, being drawii of heavi- 
 ness: O! of this contradiction you shall now be 
 quit. — O the cliarity of a penny cord ! it sums up 
 tnousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and 
 creditor but it; of what^s past, is, and to come, tfie 
 discharge : — Yom* neck, sir, is pen, book, and coun- 
 ters, so the acquittance Ibllows. 
 
 Post. 1 am merrier to die, than thou art to live. 
 
 Gaoi. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the 
 tootli-ache. But a man that were to sleep your 
 sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed. I think, 
 lie vioukl change places with his ollicer: for, look 
 you. sir, jou know not which way you shall go. 
 
 Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. 
 
 Gaol. Your death has ej'cs in's head, then; I 
 have not seen him so pictured : you must either be 
 directed by some that take upon'tliem to know; or 
 take ujKjn yourself that which I am sure, you do 
 not know; or junip^ tlie after-inquiry on your own 
 peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's 
 end, 1 think you'll never return to tell one. 
 
 Post. I tell tliee, fellow, tliere arc none want 
 eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such 
 as wink, and will not use them. 
 
 Gaol. What an inllnite mock is this, that a man 
 should have the best use of eyes, to see the way of 
 Blindness ! I am sure, hanging's the way of winking. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Knock olJ' liis manacles ; bring your pri- 
 soner to the king. 
 
 Post. Thou bringest good news;— I am called to 
 be made free. 
 
 Gaol. I'll be hanged then. 
 
 Fust. Thou Shalt be then freer than a gaoler ; no 
 bolts for the dead. 
 
 [Exeunt PoSTHtrMrs and Messenger. 
 
 Ga/>1. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and 
 beget young gibbets. I never saw one so prone.'^ 
 Yet, oii my conscience, tliere arc verier knaves de- 
 sire to live, lor all be be a Roman : and there be 
 some of them too, that die against their wills : .so 
 should I. if I were one. I would we were all of 
 one mind, and one mind good; O, there were de- 
 solation of gaolers, and gallowses! 1 speak against 
 mv present profit; but my wish hath a prelermeut 
 inH. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Cymbcline's Tent. 
 Enter Ctmbelixe, Belarius, GuiDEnirs, Arviba- 
 
 GLS, Pis.^Nio, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. 
 
 Ct/m. Stand by my side, you whom the gods 
 have made 
 Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart, 
 That the poor soldier, that so richly fought. 
 Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked 
 
 breast 
 Stepp'd before large' of proof, cannot be found: 
 He shall be happy that can find him, if 
 Our grace can make him so. 
 
 Bel. I never saw 
 
 Such noble fury in so poor a thing; 
 Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought 
 But beggary and poor looks. 
 
 Ci/m. No tidings of him ? 
 
 Pi.i. He hath been search'd among the dead and 
 living, 
 But no trace of him. 
 
 Cijm. To my grief I am 
 
 « Hazard. 
 
 ' Forw.ird. 
 
 ■ Target, shield. 
 
 The heir of his reward; which I will add 
 To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, 
 
 [To Belauius, Guiderius, a?id Aiivikagcs. 
 By whom, I grant, she lives : 'Tis now tlie time 
 To ask of whence you are : — report it. 
 
 Bel. Sir, 
 
 In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen : 
 Further to boast, were neither true nor modest, 
 Unless I add, we are honest. 
 
 Cym. Bow your knees ; 
 
 Arise, my knights o' the battle : I create you 
 Companions to our person, and will tit you 
 With dignities becoming your estates. 
 
 Enter Cornelios and Ladies. 
 There's business in these faces. — Why so sadly 
 Greet you our victory ! You look like Romans, 
 And not o' the court of Britain. 
 
 Ci/r. Hail, great king ! 
 
 To sour your happiness, I must report 
 The queen is dead. 
 
 Cym. Whom worse than a physician 
 
 Would this report become? But I consider. 
 By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death 
 VVill seize the doctor, too. — How ended shel 
 
 Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life; 
 Which, being cruel to the world, concluded 
 Most cruel to herself. — What she cunless'd, 
 I will report, so please you : These her women 
 Can trip me, if I err; who, with wet cheeks. 
 Were present when she tinish'd. 
 
 Ctjm. Pr'ythee, say. 
 
 Ciir. First,sheconfess'dsheneverlov'dyou; only 
 Alli^cted greatness got by you, not you ; 
 Married your roj-aity, was wife to your place ; 
 Abhorr'd your person. 
 
 Cit/n. She alone knc ff this: 
 
 And. but she spoke it dying. I would not 
 Believe her lips in opeiung it. Proceed. 
 
 Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to 
 love 
 With such integrity, she did confess 
 Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life. 
 But that her (light prevented it, she had 
 Ta'en off by poison. 
 
 Cijm. most delicate fiend ! 
 
 Who is't can read a woman !— Is there morel 
 
 Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she 
 had 
 For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, 
 Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'rmg, 
 B\- inches waste you : In which time she jiurpos'd. 
 By watching, weeping, 'tendance, kissing, to 
 (I'ercome you with hershow: yes, and in time, 
 (When she had iilled you with her craft,) to work 
 iler s(tii into the a(]o[)tion of the crown. 
 But failing of her end by his strange absence. 
 Grew shameless desi>erulc; opeii'd, in despite 
 01' heaven and men,' her purposes; repented 
 The evils she batcii'd were not etiiicted : so. 
 Despairing, died. 
 
 Vt/ni. Heard you all this, her women'! 
 
 Lady. We did so, please your highness. 
 
 Cym. Mine eyes 
 
 Were not in fault, for she was beautiful ; 
 Mine cars, that heard her tiattery ; nor my heart. 
 That thought her like her seeming : it had been 
 
 vicious. 
 To have mistrusted her : yet, O my daughter ! 
 That it was lolly in me, tliou may'st say. 
 And prove it in thy libeling. Heaven mend all ! 
 
 Enter Lucics, Iaciiimo, the Soothsayer, and other 
 Roman Prisoners, guarded; PosTUUMUS behind, 
 and Imogen. 
 Thou com'st not, Cains, now for tribute ; that 
 The Britons have razed out, thougli with tlie loss 
 Of many a bold one ; whose kinsmen have made 
 
 suit 
 That their good souls maybe appoas'dwithslanghter 
 Of you their captives, which oursclf have granted: 
 So, think of your estate. 
 
 Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day 
 Was yours by accident ; had it gone with us. 
 We sliould not, when the blood was cool, havo 
 
 threaten'd 
 Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods 
 Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives 
 May be call'd ransom, let it come: snlliceth, 
 A Roman with a Roman's heart can suUi^r: 
 
636 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act v. 
 
 Augustus lives to think onH ; And so much 
 For my peculiar care. This one thing only 
 I will entreat; My boy, a Briton born, 
 Let him be ransomVl : never master had 
 A pa^c so kind, so duteous, diligent, 
 So tender over his occasions, true, 
 So feat,9 so nurselike ; let his virtue join 
 With my request, which, I'll make bold, your high- 
 ness 
 Cannot deny : he hath done no Briton harm, 
 Though he nave serv'd a Roman: save him, sir. 
 And spare no blood beside. 
 
 Ci/m. I have surely seen him : 
 
 His fnvor' is familiar to me. — 
 Boy, iliou hast lo'ik'd tliyself into my grace, 
 And art mine own. — 1 know not why, nor where- 
 fore. 
 To say, live, boy ; ne'er thank thy master : live : 
 And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt. 
 Fitting my bounty, and thy stiite. Til give it; 
 Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner. 
 The noblest ta'en. 
 
 lino. I humbly thank your highness. 
 
 Luc. I do not bid tlioc beg my life, good lad ; 
 And yet, I know, thou wilt. 
 
 lino. No, no: alack! 
 
 Tlierc's other work in hand ; I see a thing 
 Bitter to me as death: your life, good master, 
 Must shuffle for itself. 
 
 Luc. The boy disdains me. 
 
 Ho leaves me, scorns me: Briefly die their joys, 
 Tliat place them on tlie truth of girls and boys. — 
 Why stands he so pcrplex'd? 
 
 Cj/m. What wouldst thou, boy 1 
 
 I love thee more and more ; think more and more 
 What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on ? 
 
 speak. 
 Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin 1 thy friend t 
 
 lino. He is a Roman; no more kin to me, 
 Than I to your highness ; who, being born your 
 
 vassal. 
 Am something nearer. 
 
 Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so 1 
 
 lino. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please 
 To give me hearing. 
 
 Ciim. Ay, with all my heart, 
 
 And lend my best attention. What's thy namel 
 
 lino. Fidele, sir. 
 
 _ Ciim. Thou art, my good youth, my page ; 
 
 I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. 
 [Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart. 
 
 Bel. Is not this boy revived from death 7 
 
 Arv. One sand another 
 
 Not more resembles; TJiat sweet rosy lad. 
 Who died, and was Fidele:— Wliat think you? 
 
 Gui. The same dead thing alive. 
 
 Bel. Peace, peace ! see further, he eyes us not ; 
 forbear : 
 Creatures may be alike: were'4 he, I am sure 
 He would have spoke to us. 
 
 CSui. _ But we saw him dead. 
 
 Bei. Be silent ; let's see further. 
 
 Pis. It is my mistress : 
 
 [Aside. 
 Since she is living, let the time run on. 
 To good, or bad. 
 
 [CvMnELiNE and Imohen come fiymmrd. 
 
 Cj/m. Come, stand tliou by our side; 
 
 Make thy demand aloud. — Sir, [To Iach.] step you 
 
 ibrtli ; 
 C.ive answer to tliis boy, and do it freely : 
 f tr. !i\* our greatness, and the grace of it, 
 Wliirh is our honor, bitter torture shall 
 Winnow tlie truth from falseliood. — On, speak to 
 him. 
 
 Inio. Jly boon is, tliat tliis gentleman may render 
 Of whom he had this ring. 
 
 Post. What's that to him ? 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Coin. Tliat diamond upon your finger, say, 
 How canio it yours ? 
 
 Inch. Tiiou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that 
 Which, to be -spoke, would torture thee. 
 
 Ciiiii. How! me? 
 
 luch.l am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which 
 Torments ntc to conceal. By villany 
 I got tliis ring; 'twas I.eonatus' jewel; 
 A'hom thou didst banish; and (which more may 
 grieve thoe, 
 Ready, dexterous. » Countenance. 
 
 As it doth me) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 
 'TwLxt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my 
 lord ! 
 
 Cym. All that belongs to this. 
 
 lacfi. That paragon, thy daughter, — 
 
 For whom my heart drops blood ,and my lalse spirits 
 Quail^ to remember, — Give me leave; I faint. 
 
 Cym. My daughter ! what of her ! Renew thy 
 strength : 
 I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will. 
 Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. 
 
 lac/i. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock 
 That struck the hour !] it was in Rome, (accurs'd 
 The mansion where!) 'twas a (east, (0, vvoald 
 Our viands had been poison'd ! or, at least. 
 Those which 1 heav'd to head!) the good Posthli- 
 
 nius, 
 (What should I say? he was too good to he 
 Where ill men were ; and was the best of all 
 Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly. 
 Hearing us praise our loves of Italy 
 For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast 
 Of him that best could speak : for feature, laming 
 The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, 
 Postures beyond brief nature : lor condition, 
 A shop of ail the qualities that man 
 Loves women for; besides, that hook of wiving. 
 Fairness which strikes the eye : 
 
 Cym. I stand on fire: 
 
 Come to the matter. 
 
 lack. All too soon I shall. 
 
 Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. — This Post- 
 
 hiimus 
 (Most like a noble lord in love, and one 
 That had a royal lover) took his liint : 
 And, not dispraising wliom we prais'd, (therein 
 He was as calm as virtue,) he began 
 His mistress' picture ; which by his tongue being 
 
 made. 
 And then a mind put in't, either our brags 
 Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description 
 Prov'd us unspeaking sots. 
 
 Cym. Naj-, nay, to the purpose. 
 
 laclt. Your daughter's chastity— there it begins. 
 He spake other as Dian had hot dreams. 
 And she alone were cold : V,'hereat, 1, wretch ! 
 Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him 
 Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore 
 Upon his honor'd linger, to attain 
 In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring 
 By her's and mine adultery : he, true knight, 
 No lesser of her honor confident 
 Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; 
 And would so, had it been a carbuncle 
 Of Phcebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it 
 Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain 
 Post 1 ill this design : Well may you, sir. 
 Remember me at court, where! was taught 
 Of your chaste daughter the wide diftcrcnce 
 'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being tlius qucnch'd 
 Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 
 'Can in your duller Britain operate 
 Most vilely; for my 'vantage, excellent; 
 And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd. 
 That I return'd with simular proof enough 
 To make the noble Leonatus mad. 
 By \vounding his belief in her renown 
 With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes 
 Of chamber-hanging, jiictures, this her bracelet, 
 (O, cunning, how I got it !) nny, some marks 
 Of secret on her person, that lie could not 
 But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, 
 I having ta'en the Ibrfeit. Whereupon, — 
 Methinks I see him now, 
 
 Post. Ay, so thou dost, 
 
 [Coming forward 
 Italian fiend !— Ah me, most credulous lool, 
 Egregious murderer, thief, any thing 
 That's due to all the villains past, in being. 
 To come !— O, give me cord, or knil'e, or poison. 
 Some upright justicer ! Thou, king, send out 
 For torturers ingenious : It is I 
 That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend. 
 By being worse than they. I am PosthCunus, 
 That kill'd thy daughter':— villain-like, I lie; 
 Tiiat 4-aiis\l a lesser villain than myself, 
 A saciilr^gious thief, to do't: the temple « 
 
 Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.' 
 « Sink into dejection. 
 5 Not only the temple of virtue, tut virtue herself. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 637 
 
 Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set 
 The doss o' the street to bay rae : every viUain 
 Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and 
 Be villany less than 'twas !— Imogen ! 
 My queen, my life, my wife ! Imogen, 
 Imogen, Imogen! 
 
 Imo. Peace, my lord ; hear, hear — 
 
 Post. Shall's have a play of thisi thou scornful 
 page, 
 There lies thy part. [Striking her: stiefatls. 
 
 Pis. 8, gentlemen, help, help 
 
 Mine and your mistress:— O, my lord Posthumus! 
 You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:— Help, help!— 
 Mine honor'd lady ! 
 
 t'l/OT. Does the world go round 1 
 
 Post. How come these staggers on me ! 
 
 Pi-s. Wake, my mistress ! 
 
 Cym. Iflhis be so, the gods do mean to strike me 
 To death with mortal joy. 
 
 Pis. How fares my mistress 1 
 
 Iiao. O, get thee from my sight; 
 Thou gav'sL me poison : dangerous fellow, hence ! 
 Breathe not where princes are. 
 
 Ci/m. The tune of Imogen ! 
 
 Ph. Lady, 
 The gods throw stones of sulphur at me, if 
 That box I gave you was not thought by me 
 A precious thing ; I had it from the queen. 
 
 Ci/ni. New matter still 1 
 
 Inio. It poison'd me. 
 
 Car. O gods !— 
 
 I lett out one thing which the queen confess'd, 
 Which must approve thee honest: IfPisanio 
 Have, said she, given his mistress that confection 
 Which 1 gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd 
 As I would serve a rat. 
 
 Ci/m. What's this, Cornelius ? 
 
 Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me 
 To temper' poisons tor her; still pretending 
 The satisfaction of her knowledge only 
 In killing creatures vile, as eats and dogs. 
 Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose 
 Was of more diinger, did compound for her 
 A certain stuff, which being ta'en, would cease 
 The present power of life ; but in short time. 
 All offices of nature should again 
 Do their due functions. — }lnve you ta'en of itl 
 
 Ijjw, Most like 1 did, for I was dead, 
 
 Bel. My boys, 
 
 There was our error. 
 
 Gut. This is sure, Fidele. 
 
 Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from 
 you] 
 Think, that you are upon a rock; and now 
 Throw rae again. [Emhraring liim. 
 
 Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul. 
 
 Till the tree die! 
 
 d/m. How now, my flesh, my child ? 
 
 What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act ? 
 Wilt tiiini not speak to me 1 
 
 Imo. Your blessing, sir. [Kneeling. 
 
 Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame 
 you not; 
 You had a motive for't. 
 
 [To GtiiDEUius and ARViKAat^s. 
 
 Ctjm. My tears that fall. 
 
 Prove holy-water on thee ! Imogen, 
 Thy mother's dead. 
 
 Imo. I am sorry for't, my lord. 
 
 Ci/m. 0,she was naught; and 'long of her it was, 
 That we meet here so strangely : But her son 
 Is gone, we know not how nor where, 
 
 Pii. _ My lord. 
 
 Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, 
 Upon my lady's missing, came to me 
 With his sword drawn; ioara'd at the mouth, and 
 
 swore. 
 If 1 discover'd not which way she was gone. 
 It was my instant death : By accident, 
 I had a feigned letter of my master's 
 Then in my pocket; which directed him 
 To see her on the mountains near to Milford, 
 'Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments. 
 Which he enforced from me, away he posts 
 With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate 
 My lady's honor: what became of him, 
 1 further know not. 
 
 Gui. Let me end the story : 
 
 I slew him there. 
 
 * 31 Lx, compound. 
 
 Cym. Marry, the gods forefend '.^ 
 
 I would not thy good deeds should fror^ my lips 
 Pluck a hard sentence : pr'ythee, valiant youth, 
 Deny't again. 
 
 Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. 
 
 Cym. He was a prince. 
 
 Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did me 
 Were nothing prince-like ; for he did provoke me 
 With language that would make me spurn the sea, 
 If it could so roar to me : I cut oil's head; 
 And aju right glad, he is not standing here 
 To tell this tale of mine. 
 
 Cym. I am sorry for thee : 
 
 By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must 
 Endure our law : Thou art dead. 
 
 Inw. That headless man 
 
 I thought had been my lord. 
 
 Cum. Bind the ofTender, 
 
 And take him from our presence. 
 
 Bel. Stay, sir king: 
 
 This man is better than the man he slew. 
 As well descended as thyself'; and hath 
 More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens 
 Had ever scar for. — Let his arms alone ; 
 
 [Tol/ie Guard. 
 They were not born for bondage. 
 
 Cym. Why, old soldier, 
 
 Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid ibr, 
 By tasting of our wrath? How of descent 
 As good as we ? • 
 
 An: In that he spake too far. 
 
 Cym. And thou shalt die tbr't. 
 
 Bel. We will die all three: 
 
 But I will prove, that two of us are as good 
 As I have given out him. — My sons, I must. 
 For mine own part, untold a dangerous speech. 
 Though, haply, well for you. 
 
 Arv. Your danger is 
 
 Ours. 
 
 Gui. And our good his. 
 
 Bel. Have at it, then.— 
 
 By leave: — Thou hadst, great Idng, a subject, who 
 Was call'd Belarius. 
 
 Cym. What of him? he is 
 
 A banish'd traitor. 
 
 Bel. He it is that hath 
 
 Assumed this age : indeed, a banish'd man ; 
 I know not how, a traitor. 
 
 Cym. Take him hence; 
 
 The whole world shall not save him. 
 
 Bel. Not too hoi: 
 
 First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; 
 And let it be confiscate all, so soon 
 As I have receiv'd it. 
 
 Cym. Nursing of my sons ? 
 
 Bel- lam too blunt and saucy: Here's my kneo; 
 Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; 
 Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir. 
 These two young gentlemen, that call me father, 
 And think they are my sons, are none of mine; 
 They are the issue of your loins, my liege. 
 And blood of your begetting. 
 
 Cym. How! my issue? 
 
 Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, 
 Am that lielarius whom you sometime banisli'd. 
 Your pleasure was my mere olftnce, my punishment 
 Itself, and all my treason: that I sutter'd. 
 Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes 
 (For such, and so they are) these twenty years 
 Ilave I train'd up: those arts they have, as I 
 Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as 
 Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, 
 Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children 
 Upon my banishment: I mov'd herfo't: 
 Having receiv'd the punishment before. 
 For that which I did then : Be.aten lor loyalty 
 Excited me to treason: Their dear loss. 
 The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped 
 Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir. 
 Here are your sons again ; and I must lose 
 Two of the sweet'st companions in the world : — 
 The benediction of these covering heavens 
 Fall oil their heads like dew! for they are worthy 
 To inlay heaven with stars. 
 
 Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. 
 
 The service, that you three have done, is more 
 Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children; 
 If these be they, I know not how to wish 
 A pair of worthier sons. 
 
 • rortii 
 
638 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Bel. Be ploas'd a while.— 
 
 This gcntfeman, whom I call Polydore, 
 Mosl worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius ; 
 This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviriigiis, 
 Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lappM 
 In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand 
 Of his qiioen-mother, which, for more probation, 
 I can with ease produce. 
 
 Cijm. Guiderius had 
 
 Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; 
 It was a mark of wonder. 
 
 Bel. This is he; 
 
 Who hath upon him still that natural stamp; 
 It was wise nature's end in the donation, 
 To be his evidence now. 
 
 Ci/m- O, what am I 
 
 A mother to the birth of three ? Ne'er mother 
 Rejoiced deliverance more :— Bless'd may you be. 
 That, after this strange starting from your orbs, 
 You may reign in them now! — O Imogen, 
 Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. 
 
 Iiiio. No, my lord ; 
 
 I have got two worlds by't. — my gentle brother, 
 Have we thus met? never say hereaAer, 
 But I am truest speaker: you call'd nie brother, 
 Wlien I was but your sister ; I you brothers, 
 When you were so indeed. 
 
 Cum. Did you e'er meet ■? 
 
 Arv. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Gui. And^at first meeting lov'd; 
 
 Continued so, until we thought he died. 
 
 Cfir. IJy the queen's dram she swallow'd. 
 
 Cyin. O rare instinct ! 
 
 When shall I hear all through? This tierce abridge- 
 ment 
 Hath to it circumstantial branches, wliich 
 Distinction should be rich in.^ — Where 1 how liv'd 
 
 you ? 
 And when came you to serve our Roman captive 1 
 How parted with your brothers 1 how first met 
 
 them ? 
 Why fled you from the courtl and whither? These, 
 An(] your three motives to the battle, with 
 1 know nut how much more, should be demanded; 
 And all the otiier by-dependencies. 
 From cliance to chance ; but nor the time, nor place. 
 Will serve long interrogatories. Sec, 
 Posth'mus anchors upon Imogen ; 
 And siie, like harmless lightning, throws her eye 
 On him. her brothers, me, her master; hitting 
 Each object with joy ; the counterchaiige 
 Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground. 
 And smoke the temple with our sacritices. — 
 Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever. 
 
 [To BELAnirs. 
 
 Inw. Y'ou are my father too ; and did relieve me. 
 To see this gracious season. 
 
 Ci/in. All o'erjoyed. 
 
 Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, 
 For they sliail taste our comfort. 
 
 Iiiio. My good master, 
 
 I will yet do you service. 
 
 Luc. Happy be you ! 
 
 Ci/nt. The forlorn soldier, that so nolily Ibught, 
 He would liave well becomd this place, and graced 
 The thankingsof a king. 
 
 Po.\t. I am, sir. 
 
 The soldier tliat did company these three 
 In poor beseeming; 'twa.s a litnient for 
 The purpose I then foUow'd ; — That I was he. 
 Speak, lachimo : 1 had you down, and might 
 Have made you finish. 
 
 lack. I am down again : 
 
 [Kneeling. 
 But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee. 
 As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech y^ou, 
 Which 1 so otlen owe: but. your ring first ; 
 And here the bracelet of the truest princess, 
 That ever swore her faith. 
 
 I'list. Kneel not to me : 
 
 Tile power that I have on yon, is to spare you ; 
 The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, 
 And deal with others better. 
 
 Ci/m. Nobly doom'd : 
 
 We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; 
 Pardon's the word to all. 
 
 Arv. You holp us, sir, 
 
 « 1. r. ^Vhich ought to be rcudeicd distiuct by an amplo 
 narrative. 
 
 As you did mean indeed to be our brother; 
 Joy*d are we, that you are. 
 
 Post. Your servant, princes. — Good my lord of 
 Rome, 
 Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought. 
 Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back. 
 Appear 'd to me, with other sprightly shows' 
 Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found 
 This label on my bosom ; whose containing 
 Is so from sense and hardness, tJiat 1 can 
 Make no collection of it; let him show 
 His skill in the construction. 
 
 Luc. Philarmonus, 
 
 Sovlh. Here, my good lord. 
 
 Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. 
 
 Sooth. [Reads.] When o.s a lwn\s whelp shall, 
 to himself unknown, wifhiiut seeking find, ami 
 be embraced by a piece of tender air; and irhen 
 from a stalely cclar shall be lopp'd branches, U'h kh, 
 being dead iiiuini years, shall <ijlerrevive.be jointed 
 to the old stuck, 'ondfnshh. Krow; then shall I'ost- 
 hunius cud Ai.v iiiiseriis, llrilain be fortunate, and 
 fliiuriih in peace and plenty. 
 
 Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; 
 The fit and apt construction of thy name. 
 Being Leo-natus. doth import so much ; 
 The piece offender air, thy virtuous daughter, 
 
 [ To Cymbeline. 
 Which we call mollis air ; and mollis uer 
 We term it niulier : which mulier I divine. 
 Is this most constant wife; who, even now. 
 Answering the letter of the oracle. 
 Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd* about 
 With this most tender air. 
 
 Ci/m. This hath some seeming. 
 
 Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, 
 Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point 
 Thy two sons tbrth : who, by Belanus stolen. 
 For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, 
 To the majestic cedar joiii'd; whose issue 
 Promises Britain peace and plenty. 
 
 Cym. Well, 
 
 My peace we will begin :— And, Cains Lucius, 
 Although the victor, we submit to Cojsar, 
 And to the Roman empire; promising 
 To pay our wonted tribute, from the which 
 We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; 
 Whom heavens, in justice. (both on her and hers,) 
 Have laid most heavy Iiand. 
 
 Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune 
 Tlie harinony of this peace. The vision 
 Which I made known to Lucius, ere tlie stroke 
 Of tins yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 
 Is full accomplish'd : For the Roman eagle. 
 From south to west on wing soaring alolt, 
 Lessefli'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun 
 So vanish'd : winch foreshow'd our princely ea-gle, 
 The imperial Caesar, should again unite 
 His favor with the radiant Cymbehnc, 
 Which shines here in the west. 
 
 Com. ■ Laud we the gods; 
 
 And let ourcrookcd smokes climb to their nostrils 
 From our bless'd altars ! Publish we this peace 
 To all our subjects. Set wc forward : Let 
 A Roman and a British ensign wave 
 Friendly together: so through Lud's town march: 
 And in file temple of great Jui'iter 
 Our peace we'll ratify ; seal it with feasts. — 
 Set on there : — Never was a war did cease, 
 iire bloody hands were wash'd,with such a peace. 
 
 [Kxeunt. 
 
 A SONG, 
 
 SCNO BT GtnDEBIUa AND ARTIRACrS OVER FIDELE, 
 SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD. 
 
 BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. 
 
 To fair Fidele's grassy tomb. 
 
 Sift maids and villuge hinds shall bring 
 Each o/iening siceel. of earliest bloom, 
 
 And rijle all the breathing spring. 
 
 No wailing ghost shall dare appear 
 To ve.v with shrieks his tpiiet grove ; 
 
 But shiiiherd toils iisseiiiblc here. 
 And melting virgins own their love. 
 
 ' Ghostly appearances. ' Embraced. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 639 
 
 No u'ilher^l vjilch ■•■hril! here heseeii. 
 
 Ku giiblins lead their iiiglilly creiu : 
 The female fai/x shall haunt the green. 
 
 And dress thij grave with pearly dew. 
 
 The red-breast oft at evening hours 
 Sli/ill kindli/ 'lend Ais- little aid. 
 
 With hniint innss, and gather'dflnwers. 
 To deck the ground where thou art laid. 
 
 When hmeding winds, and beating rain, 
 In tempests shake the sylvan cell; 
 
 Or miibit the cha.'.e on every plain. 
 The tender thought on thee shall dwell, 
 
 Eeich lonely scene shall thee restore; 
 
 Fur thee the tear be duly shed: 
 Beloc'd, till life could charm no more; 
 
 And mourn'd, till pily'e self be dead. 
 
TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Saturnints, San to the late Emperor nf Rome, 
 
 ajid afterwards declared Emperor liimself. 
 Bassianus, Brutlier to Saturninus; in love tuit/i 
 
 Lavinia. 
 TiTfS ANDRONicus, o noble Roman, General 
 
 against tfte Goths. 
 Marcus Andronicus, Tribune nf tlie People; 
 
 and Brotlier to Titus. 
 Lucius, "I 
 
 M A'uTufs, f ^"'^ '" '^''"^ Andronicus. 
 
 Ml'TIUS, J 
 
 Young Lucius, a Boy, Son to Lucius. 
 PoBLius, Son to Marcus tlie Tribune. 
 
 Jlmilius, a noble Roman. 
 
 ALARBU.S, i 
 
 Chiron, } Sons to Tamora. 
 Demetrius, ) 
 
 Aaron, a Moor, behved by Tamora. 
 A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Cloum ; Ro- 
 mans. 
 Goths, and Romans. 
 
 Tamora, Queen nf tlie Roths. 
 Lavinia, Daugliter to Titus Andronicus. 
 A Nurse, and a black Child. 
 Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers, 
 Soldiers, and Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, Rome ; and the Country near it. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— Rome. Before the Capitol, 
 
 The Tomb of the Andronici apj^enrin^: the Tri- 
 bunes anil Senators aloft., as in the Senate. — 
 J^nier, below, Satukninus and his Followers, on 
 one sitl€ ; and Bassiaxus a7id his Followers^ on 
 the other; with Drum and Colors. 
 Suf. Noble pntvicians, patrons of my right, 
 Defend the ju-stice of my cause with arms; 
 And. countrymen, my loving followers, 
 plead my successive title' with your swords ; 
 I am his first-born son, that was the last 
 That ware the imperial dia4em of Kome; 
 Then let my father's honors live in me. 
 Nor wrong mine age with this indignity. 
 JBas. Romans, — friends, followers, lavorors of 
 my right, — 
 If ever Bassianus, Cffisar's son. 
 Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, 
 Keep then this passage to the Capitol; 
 And sutTer not dishonor to approach 
 The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, 
 To justice, continence, and nobility: 
 But let desert in pure election shine; 
 And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. 
 
 Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft, with the Crown. 
 
 J^larc. Princes that strive by factions, and by 
 friends, 
 Ambitiously tor rule and empery, — 
 Know, that the people of Rome, tor whom we stand 
 A special party, have by tlieir common voice, 
 In election tor the Roman empery, 
 Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius, 
 For many good and great deserts to Rome; 
 A nobler man, a braver warrior. 
 Lives not (his day within tlie city walls: 
 He by the senate is acciteil- home, 
 From weary wars against the barbarous Goths ; 
 
 * i.e. My title to tbo succession. 
 
 G40 
 
 o Summoued. 
 
 That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, 
 
 Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in aim^. 
 
 Ten years are spent, since first he undertook 
 
 This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms 
 
 Our enemiq^' pride : Five times he hath return'd 
 
 Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons 
 
 In cofhns from the field ; 
 
 And now at last, laden with honor's spoils, 
 
 Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, 
 
 Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. 
 
 Let us entreat,— By honor ot Iiis name, 
 
 Whom, wortliily, you would have now succeed. 
 
 And in the Capitol and senate's riglit, 
 
 Whom you pretend to honor and adure, — 
 
 That you withdraw you, and abate your strength: 
 
 Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, 
 
 plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. 
 
 Sat. How lair the tribune speaks to calm my 
 thouglits ! 
 
 Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so do I alTy 
 In ihy uprightness and integrity, 
 And so 1 love and honor thee and tliine, 
 Thy nobler brother Titus and his sons, 
 And Jier, to whom my thoughts are humbled all, 
 Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, 
 That I will here dismiss my loving friends; 
 And to my fortunes, and the people's favor. 
 Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. 
 
 [Furunt the Followers if Bassianus. 
 
 Sat. Friends, that have been thus Ibrward in niy 
 right, 
 I thank you all, and here dismiss you all ; 
 And to t"he love and favor of my country 
 Commit «iyself. my person, and the cause. 
 
 [Exeunt tfte Fidbjivcrs /j/ Satuuninus. 
 Rome, be as just and gracinus unto me, 
 As 1 am confident and kind to thee. — 
 Ojten the gales, and let mc in. 
 
 Bas, Tribunes! and me, a jioor competitor. 
 
 [Sat. and Bas. go into the Capitol, arid 
 exeunt with Senators, Marcus, tVc. 
 
Act I. Scene II. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 611 
 
 SCENE n.—Tke same. 
 Enter a Captain and others. 
 Cap, Romans, make way; the f;ood Andronicus, 
 Patron of virtuf, Rome's best champion, 
 Successful in tlie battles that he lights, 
 With honor and with fortune is returnd. 
 From where he circumscribed with his sword, 
 JViid brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. 
 
 Flourish qf' Trumpets, ^-c. Knter Mrnus and 
 Marth-s: nfter them, two Men bearing n Coffin 
 covere-l with lilacic; then Qt;lNTrs and Licit s. 
 After thrni, TiTfS ANDitONMcus ; und then Ta- 
 MuuA. with Ai-Aimrs, Chiron. Demethrs, Aaron, 
 andother GoiU^, pri.'ioners; Soldiers nm/ People. 
 following. The Bearers set down the Coffin, and 
 Tins speaks. 
 
 Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning 
 weeds ! 
 Lo. as the bark that hath discharged her fraught, 
 leturns with precious lading to the bay, 
 • r,m whence at lirst she weigh'd her anchorage, 
 Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, 
 To re-salute his country with his tears; 
 Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. — 
 Thou great defender of this Capitol, 
 Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! 
 Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, 
 Half of the number that king Priam had. 
 Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead ! 
 These, that survive, let Rome reward with love; 
 These, that I bring unto their latest home. 
 With burial amongst their ancestors: 
 Here Goth shave given me leave to sheath m}' sword. 
 Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own. 
 Why .sullerest thou thv sons, unbnried >'et. 
 To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx 1 — 
 Make way to lay them by their brethren. 
 
 [ The Tomb is opened. 
 There greet in silence, as the dead are wont. 
 And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars ! 
 O sacred receptacle of my jo\s, 
 Sweet cell of virtue and nobility. 
 How many sons of mine hast thou in store. 
 That thou wilt never render to me more ! 
 
 Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, 
 That we ma\' liew his limbs, and, on a pile. 
 Ad meinesfrntrum saeritice his flesh, 
 Hetlire this earthly prison of their bones ; 
 That so the shadows be not unappcas'd. 
 Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.3 
 
 Tit. I give him you; the noblest that survives, 
 The eldest son of this distressed queen. 
 Tarn. Stay, Roman brethren ; — Gracious con- 
 queror, 
 Victorious Titus, rue the tears T shed, 
 A mother's tears in passioni liir her son : 
 And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
 O, think my son to be as dear to me. 
 SulHceth not, that we arc brought to Rome, 
 'J'o beaulify thy triumphs, and return. 
 Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke ; 
 But must my sons be slanghter'd in the streets, 
 For valiant doings in their country's caused 
 O! if to fight for king and common-jveal 
 Were piety in thiue.it is in these. 
 Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood : 
 Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? 
 Draw near them then in being merciful : 
 Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge; 
 Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son. 
 
 Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. 
 These are 'heir brethren, whom you Goths beheld 
 Alive, ana dead ; and lor their brethren slain, 
 Religiously they ask a sacrifice: 
 To this your son is niark'd; and die he must, 
 To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. 
 Lvc. Away with him! and make a fire straight; 
 And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, 
 Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consumed. 
 {Exeunt Lticibs, QriNTUS, Martius, 
 and MUTiiTS, with Alarbcs. 
 Tarn. cruel, irreligious piety! 
 Chi. Was ever Scythia half so'barharous? 
 Bern. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. 
 Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive 
 To tremble under Titus' threatening look. 
 
 » It was suppos.Hl th.1t the ghosts of uuburieil jioople 
 appeared to solicit the rites of funeral. * Sufrerinkj. 
 
 41 
 
 Then, madam, stand resolv'd ; but hope withal. 
 The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of Troy 
 With opportunity of sharp revenge 
 Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, 
 May tavorTamora, the queen of Goths, 
 (When Goths were Goths, and Tamora \vas queen,) 
 To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. 
 Re-e>der Heirs. Qfis'Trs, Martr's. mtrf MuTius, 
 with their Swords bloody. 
 LuCi See, lord and father, how we have perform 'd 
 Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd. 
 And entrails feed the sacrificing fire. 
 Whose smoke, like incense, dotli perfume tho sky. 
 Remaineth naught, hut to inter our brelliren. 
 And with loud iarnnis welcome them to Rome. 
 
 Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus 
 Make this his latest farewell to tlieir souls. ^ 
 
 [Trunipets.*<oiinded,and the Coffins 
 laid in the Tomb. 
 In peace and honor rest you liere, my sons; 
 Rome's readiest champions, repose yon here 
 Secure f:om worldly chances and mi.shaps! 
 }Ieri? lurks no treason, here no envy sw'ells, 
 Here grow no damned grudges ; here are no storms, 
 No nuise, but silence and eternal sleep: 
 
 Enter Lavinia. 
 In peace and honor rest you here, my sons ! 
 
 Lor. In peace and honor live lord Titus long; 
 My noble lord and lather, live in lame ! 
 Lo ! at this tomb my tributary tears 
 I render, lor my brethren's obsequies; 
 And at thy feet I kneel with tears of joy 
 Shed on the earth, tor thy return to Rome: 
 () bless me here with thy" victorious hand. 
 Whose tbrtunes Rome's best citizens applaud. 
 
 Tit. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd 
 The cordial of mine age to glad my lieart ! — 
 Lavinia. live ; outlive thy father's days, 
 And lame's eternal date, for virtue's praise ! 
 Enter Marcus Andronicis, Satcrnincs, Bassi- 
 anus, and others. 
 Marc. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother, 
 Gracious triiimpbcr in Ihe eyes of Rcnni^! 
 Ti/.Thanks, gentle tribune' noble brother Marcus. 
 Marc. And welcome, nephews, from successful 
 wars. 
 You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. 
 Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all. 
 That in your country's service drew your swords: 
 But safer triumph is this funeral pomp. 
 That hath aspir'd to Solon's happine.ss.5 
 And triumphs over chance, in honor's bed. — 
 Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, 
 Whose friend injustice thou hast ever been. 
 Send thee by me, their tribune, and their trust, 
 This parliament^ of white and spotless hue; 
 .'\nd name thee in election Ibr the empire. 
 With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: 
 Ue candilajus then, and put it on. 
 And help to set a head on headless P^ome. 
 Tit. A better head her glorious body tits. 
 Than his that shakes Ibr age and feebleness: 
 What; should 1 dun" this robe, and trouble you? 
 Be chosen with proclamations to-day; 
 To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life. 
 And set abroad new business for you all ? 
 Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, 
 And led my country's strength successfully, 
 And buried one-and-twenly valiant sons. 
 Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms. 
 In right and service of their noble country: 
 (live me a stalPof honor for mine age. 
 But not a sceptre to control the world: 
 Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. 
 il/Hrc.Titus,thou Shalt obtain and ask theempery 
 Sut. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst t'liou 
 
 tein— 
 Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine. 
 Sat. Romans, do me right;— 
 
 Patricians, draw your swords, and sheath them no4 
 Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor: — 
 Andronicus, 'would thou wertshipp'd to hell. 
 Rather than rob me of the people's hearts. 
 
 Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good 
 That noble-minded Titus means to thee ! 
 
 • The maxim alluded to is, that no man can by pn> 
 nounced h.Tppy before his death. 
 'A robe. ' I.e. Boon, put it on. 
 
G42 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 ActL 
 
 Tit. Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee 
 The peuple's hearts, and wean Ihem from them- 
 selves. 
 Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, 
 But honor tliee, and will do till I die; 
 IVIy faction, if thou strengthen with thy friends, 
 I will most thankful be : and thanks, to men 
 Of noble minds, is honorable raced. 
 
 Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, 
 T ask your voices, and your sutiragcs ; 
 Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus'? 
 
 Tri'l). To gratify the good Andronicus, 
 And ^Tutulate his safe return to Rome, 
 The people will accept whom he admits. 
 
 Tit, Tribunes, I thank you: and this »uit I 
 make. 
 That you create your emperor's eldest son, 
 Lord»Saturnine ; whose virtues will, I hope, 
 Reflect on Rome, as TitanV rays on earth, 
 And ripen justice in this common-weal: 
 Then if you will elect by my advice, 
 Crown him, and say,— io^g- live our emperor! 
 
 Alurc. With voices and applause of every sort, 
 Patricians, and plebeians, we create 
 Lord Saturninus Rome's threat emperor; 
 And say,— Long live our emperor Saturnine ! 
 
 \_A ton^ Flmtrish. 
 ^at. Titus Andronictis, for thy favors done 
 To us in our election this day, 
 I L;ive ihee thanks in part of thy deserts, 
 Aiid will with deeds requite thy gentleness: 
 And. for an onset. Titus, to advance 
 Thy name, and honorable family, 
 Lavinia will I make my emperess, 
 Roine"'s royal mistress, mistress of my heart, 
 And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse : 
 Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please 
 thee ] 
 Tit. Itdoth, my worthy lord; and, in this match, 
 I hoUi me highly honor'd of your grace : 
 And here, in sight of Ropie, to Saturnine^ 
 King and commander of our common-weal, 
 The wide world's emperor — do I consecrate 
 My swurd, my chariot, and my prisoners; 
 I'lvst'iits well worthy Rome's imperial lord: 
 Rreeive them then, the tribute that I owe, 
 Mine lionor's ensigns liumbled at thy teet. 
 
 Saf. Tlianks, noble Titus, father of my lite ! 
 IIow proud I am of thee, and of thy gills, 
 Rome shall record; and, when I do forget 
 The least of these unspeakable deserLs, 
 Rniiiaiis. forget your fealty to me. 
 
 3'i/. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an em- 
 peror; [To Tamora. 
 To him, that for your lionor and your state, 
 Will use you nobly, and your followers. 
 
 Sat. A goodly iady, tru^ me ; of the iiue 
 That I would choose, were I to choose anew. — 
 Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance ; 
 Tliough chance of war hath wrought this change 
 
 of cheer, *•. 
 
 Thou corn's! not to be made a scorn in Rome: 
 Princely shall be thy usage every way. 
 Rest on my word, and let not discontent 
 Daunt all your hopes; Madam, he comforts you. 
 Can make you greater tli;in the queen of Goths. — 
 Lavinia. you are not disjileas'd with thisl 
 Lav. Nut I. my lord : silh^ true nobUity 
 Warrants these words in princely courte'sy. 
 
 Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. — Romans, let us go: 
 Ransomless here we set our prisoners free : 
 proclaim our honors, lords, with trump and drum. 
 Bos. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. 
 [Seizing Lavinia, 
 7'i/. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my lord] 
 Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resulv'd withal, 
 To do myself this reason and this right. 
 
 [T/ie Emperor courts TAyiijR A in ttumbshow* 
 IVIarc. Suum cuique is our Roman justice : 
 This prince injustice seizeth but his own. 
 Jjic. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. 
 Tit. Traitors, avaunti Where is the emperor's 
 guard ! 
 Treason, my lord ; Lavinia is surprised. 
 Sat. Surprised! by whom"? 
 Bas, By him that justly may 
 
 Hear his betroth'd from all the world away. 
 
 [Kx. Maucus and Bassianus, with Lavinia. 
 » Tb« sun. 8 Since. 
 
 Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, 
 And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and MAR-nua 
 
 Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her bacif 
 
 Nut. My lord, you pass not here. 
 
 Tit. What, villain boy 
 
 Barr'stme my way in Rome 1 [Titus fri//.sMuTics. 
 
 Mat. Help, Lucius, help. 
 
 lie-enter Lucius. 
 
 Luc. Mylord, you are unjust ; and, more than so 
 In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. 
 
 Tit. Nor thou, nor'hc, are ariy sons of mine: 
 My sons would never so dishonor me : 
 Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. 
 
 Luc. Dead, if you will: but not to be his ^vii^. 
 That is another's lawful promis'd love. [Exit 
 
 Sat. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, 
 Not her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock : 
 I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once ; 
 Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, 
 Conti?deratcs all thus to dishonor me. 
 Was there none else in Rome to make a stale' of, 
 But Saturnine 1 Full well, Andronicus, 
 Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine. 
 That said'st, I bcgg'd the empire at thy liands. 
 
 Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are 
 these] 
 
 S«/. But, go thy ways ; go, give that changingpicce 
 To him that flourishM for her witii his sword: 
 A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy ; 
 One lit to bandy with thy lawless sons, 
 To ruffle- in the commonwealth of Rome. 
 
 Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart. 
 
 Sat, And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of 
 Goths,— 
 That, like the stately Piicebe 'mont;^t her nymphs 
 Dost oversbine tlie L'lillanrst damrs of Rome, — 
 If thou be i>[eas\l with lliis my sudden choice, 
 Behold. I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, 
 And will create thee emperess of Ronie. 
 Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my 
 
 choice ] 
 And here I swear by all the Roman gods, — 
 Sith priest and holy water are so near, 
 And tiipers bum so bright, and every thing 
 In readmcss for Hymeneus stand, — 
 I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, 
 Or climb my palace, till from forth this place 
 I lead espoused my bride along with me. 
 
 Tarn. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I 
 swear. 
 If Saturnine advance the queen of Goths, 
 She will a handmaid be to his desires, 
 A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. 
 
 "Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon: — Lords, ac- 
 company 
 Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride, 
 Sent by the heavens for prince Saturnine, 
 Whose wisdom hath her Ibrtune conquered : 
 There shall we consummate our spousal rites. 
 
 [Exeunt Satrrnisus. and his Followers; Ta- 
 mora, and her Sons ; Aaron, and Goths. 
 
 Tit. I am not bid^ to wait upon this bride;— 
 Titus, vi'hen wert thou wont to walk alone, 
 DishonorM thus, and challenged of wrongs] 
 
 Re-enter Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and Martics 
 
 Marc. 0, Titus, see, O see, what thou hast done 
 In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. 
 
 Tit. No_. Ibolish tribune, no: no son of mine, — 
 Nor thou, nor these confederates in the deed 
 That hath dishonor'd all our family ; 
 LInworthy brother, and unworthy sons! 
 
 Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes, 
 Give Mutius burial with our brethren. 
 
 Tit. Traitors, away ! he rests not in this tomb 
 This monument five hundred years hath stood, 
 Which I have sumptuously re-edified : 
 Here none but soldiers, and Rome'^s servitors. 
 Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls — 
 Burv him where you can, he comes not hero. 
 
 Marc. My lord, this is impiety in you: 
 My ne])hew Mutius' deeds do plead for him ; 
 He must ttc buried with his brethren. 
 
 Qu in. Mart. And shall, or him we will accompany. 
 
 Tit. And shall] What villain was it spoke that 
 word] 
 
 Qin;?. lie that would vouch't in any place but here. 
 
 » A stalking-horse. > A ruffler was a bully. » Invited. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TITUS ANDEONICUS. 
 
 643 
 
 Tit. What! would you bury him in my despite] 
 
 JSJarc. No, noble Titus; but entreat of tlice 
 To pardon Mutius, and to bury him. 
 
 r(7.Marcus,even thou Iiast struck upon my crest. 
 And, with these boys, mine honor thou hast 
 
 wounded: 
 My foes I do repute you every one ; 
 So trouble me uo more, but get you gone. 
 
 Marc. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. 
 
 Quiiu Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. 
 
 [Marcls aiid the Sons t/Tirus k?ieeL 
 
 Marc, Brother, for in that name doth nature 
 plead. 
 
 Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature 
 speak. 
 
 Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. 
 
 Marc. Renowned Titus, more than half my 
 soul, — 
 
 Liic. Dear Hither, soul and substance of us all, — 
 
 Marc. Sutler thy brother Marcus to inter 
 His noble iiej>hcw here in virtuc''s nest, 
 That died in honor and Lavinia''s cause. 
 Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous. 
 The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax, 
 That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son 
 Did graciously plead lor his funerals. 
 Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy, 
 Be barr'd Iiis entrance here. 
 
 Tit. Rise, Marcus, rise : — 
 
 The dismarst day is this that cVr I saw, 
 To be dishonor'd by my sons in Rome ! — 
 Well, bury him, and bury me the next. 
 
 [Mutius is put into the Tomb. 
 
 Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy 
 friends. 
 Till we with trophies do idom thy tomb! 
 
 All. No man shed tears lor noble Mutius: 
 He lives in fame that died in virtue''s cause. 
 
 Marc. Mj' lord, — to step out of these dreary 
 dumps, — 
 How comes it, that the subtle queen of Goths 
 Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome 1 
 
 Tit. I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is: 
 Whether by device or no, the lieavcns can tell: 
 Is slie not then beholden to the man 
 That brought her for this high good turn so far? 
 Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. 
 
 Flourish. Be-enter, at one side. Saturxinxs, at- 
 tended ; Tamoua. CutiioN, Demetrius, . and 
 Aaron: at the other, Bassianus, Lavima, and 
 others. 
 Sat. So, Bassianus, you have playM your prize; 
 
 God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride. 
 Bas. And you of yours, my lord : I say no more. 
 
 Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave. 
 
 Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have power, 
 
 Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. 
 Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, 
 
 My true-betrothed love, and now my wite ! 
 
 But let the laws of Rome determine all: 
 
 Meanwhile I am possessM of that is mine. 
 
 Sat. 'Tis good, sir: You are very short with us; 
 
 But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. 
 Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I may. 
 
 Answer I must, and sfiall do with my lile. 
 
 Only thus much I give your grace to know, 
 
 By all the duties that I owe to Rome, 
 
 This noble gentleman, lord Titus here, 
 
 Is in opinion, and in honor wrong'd ; 
 
 That, m the rescue of Lavinia, 
 
 With his own hand did slay his youngest son, 
 
 In zeal to you, and highly inovM to wrath 
 
 To be conhollM in that he frankly gave : 
 
 Receive him then to favor. Saturnine; 
 
 That hath expressed himself, in all his deeds, 
 
 A lather, and a friend, to thee, and Rome. 
 TU. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds; 
 
 Aside, 
 
 'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonorVl me: 
 Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, 
 How I have lov'd and honored Saturnine ! 
 
 Tarn. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora 
 Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, 
 Then hear me speak indilferently for all ; 
 And at my suit, sweet, pardon w'hat is past. 
 
 Sat. What! madam! be dishonor'd openly, 
 And basely put it up without revenge ! 
 
 7'arn. Not so, my lord: The gods of Rome fore- 
 fend ,-» 
 I should be author to dishonor you ! 
 But, on mine honor, dare I undertake 
 For good lord Titus' innocence in all. 
 Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs : 
 Then, at my suit, look graciously on hini ; 
 Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose. 
 Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. — 
 My lord, be rul'd by me, be Won at last. 
 Dissemble all your grieis and discontents: 
 You arc but newly planted in your throne : 
 Lest then the people and patricians too, 
 Upon a just survey, take Titus' part, 
 And so suiij^lant us Ibr ingratitude, 
 (Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,) 
 Yield at entreats, and then let me alone: 
 I'll fmd a day to massacre Ihem all, 
 And roze their taction, and their family. 
 The cruel father, and his traitorous sons, 
 To whom I sued for my dear son's life ; 
 And make them know, what 'tis to let a 
 
 queen 
 Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in 
 
 vain. — 
 
 Come, come, sweet emperor. — come, Andronicus, 
 Take up this good old man, and cheer the Jieart 
 That dies in tempest of thy ani:ry frown. 
 
 Sat. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd. 
 
 Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my lord : 
 These words, these looks, infuse new lite in nie. 
 
 Tani. Titus. I am incorporate in Rome, 
 A Roman now adopted happily. 
 And must advise the emperor Ibr his good. 
 This day all quarrels die, Andronicus ; — 
 And let it be mine honor, good my lord, 
 That I have reconciled your friends and yoa. — 
 For you. prince Bassianus, I have pass'd 
 My word and promise to the emperor. 
 That you will be more miid and tractable. — 
 And tear not. lords, — and you, Lavinia; — 
 By my adviee, all humbled on your knees, 
 You shall ask pardon of his majesty. 
 
 Luc. We do, and vow to heaven and to his high- 
 ness, 
 That, what we did, was mildly, as we might, 
 TendVing our sister's honor, and our own. 
 
 Marc. That on mine honor here I do protest. 
 
 Sat. Away, and talk not; trouble us no more. — 
 
 Tarn. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be 
 friends : 
 The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ; 
 I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look oack. 
 
 Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here, 
 And at my lovely Tamora's entrcat-s, 
 I do remit these young men's heinous faults. 
 Stand uj). 
 
 Lavinia. though you left me like a churl, 
 I Ibund a friend; and sure as death I swore, 
 I would not part a bachelor from the priest. 
 Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides, 
 You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends; 
 This day snail be a love-day, Tamora. 
 
 Tit. To-morrow, an it jilease your majesty. 
 To hunt the panther and the hart with me. 
 With horn and hound, we'll give your grace ftoryowr. 
 
 Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy Ido. 
 
 [Exeimt. 
 • Forliid. 
 
644 
 
 TITUS ANDKONICUS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE J.— Before the Palace, 
 Enter Aaron. 
 Aar. Now climbeth Tainora Olympus' top, 
 Safe out of fortunc''s shot: and sits aloft, 
 Secure of thunder''s crack, or lifihtninjj's flash ; 
 Advanced above pale envy's threat'nini; reach. 
 As when the g:oIdcn sun salutes the mom, 
 And, having ^ilt the ocean with his beams, 
 Gallops the zodiac in his ^listerin'j; roach, 
 And overlooks the highest-peeriny: hills ; 
 
 So Tamora. 
 
 Upon her wit doth earthly honor wait. 
 And virtue stoops and trembles at her fro'wn. 
 Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and tit thy thoughts 
 To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, 
 And mount her pitch ; whom thou in triumph long 
 Hast prisoner held. fetterM in amorous chain, 
 And faster bound to Aaron*'s charming eyes, 
 Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. 
 Away with slavisli weeds, and idle thoughts ! 
 I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, 
 To wait" upon this new-made emperess. 
 To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen, 
 This goddess, this Semiramis; — this queen, 
 This syren, that will charm Romeo's Saturnine, 
 And see his shipwreck, and his common-wears. 
 Holla ! what storm is this ! 
 
 Enter Chiron" and Demetrius, braving. 
 
 Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants 
 edge, 
 And manners, to intrude where I am graced ; 
 And may, for aught thou knov.'''st, atVected he. 
 
 Chi. Demefrius. thou dost overween in all; 
 And so in this to bear me down with braves. 
 'Tis not the diflerence of a year, or two. 
 Makes me less gracious, thee more fortunate: 
 I am as able, and as fit as thou, 
 T.i serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace; 
 And that my sword upon thee shall approve. 
 And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. 
 
 Aar. Clubs! clubs!' these lovers will not keep 
 the peace. 
 
 Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvisM, 
 Gave you a dancintr-rapier by your side. 
 Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends? 
 Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath. 
 Till you know bettev how to handle it. 
 
 Chi. IVIo:inwhih\ sir. with the little skill I have, 
 Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. 
 
 Vein. Ay, boy, grow ye so brav::* f [They ^/raw. 
 
 Aar. Why, how now", lords ] 
 
 So near the emperor's palace dare you draw. 
 And maintain such a quarrel openlv 1 
 Full well I wot6 the ground of all this grudge; 
 I would not for a million of gold. 
 The case were known to them it most concerns: 
 Nor would your nohle mother, for much more, 
 lie so dishonor'd in the court of Rome. 
 For shame, i>ut up. 
 
 De/n. Not I; till I have sheathM 
 
 My rapier in his bosom, and withal. 
 Thrust these reproachful speeches doviTi his throat, 
 That he hatli breath'd in my dishonor here. 
 
 Chi. For that I am prepared and full resolvM. — 
 Foul-spoken coward, that thunder''st with thy 
 
 tongue. 
 And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform. 
 
 Aar. Away, I say. — 
 Now by the "gods, that warlike Goths adore, 
 This petty brabble will imdo us all.— 
 Why, lords, — and think you not how dangerous 
 It is to jut upon a princc''s right ! 
 What, is Lavinia then become so loose. 
 Or Bnssianus so degenerate, 
 
 That lor her love such quarrels may be hroach'd. 
 Without controlment, Justice, or revenge'! 
 Young lords, beware !— an should the empress know 
 This discord^s ground, the music would not please. 
 
 Chi. I care not, I. knew she and all the world; 
 I love Lavinia more than all the world. 
 
 * This was the usual outcry for assistance, whon any 
 riot iu the street bnitpeued. e Know. 
 
 Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some 
 meaner choice; 
 Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. 
 
 Aar. Why, arc ye mad '] or know ye not, in Rome 
 How furious and impatient they be. 
 And cannot brook competitors in love] 
 I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths 
 By this device. 
 
 Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths 
 
 Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love 
 
 Aar. To achieve her!— How! 
 
 Dein. Why mak'st thou it so strange ? 
 
 She is a woman, therelbre may be woo'd; 
 She is a woman, therefore may be won; 
 She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. 
 What, man ! more water glideth by the mill 
 Than wots the miller of; and easy it is 
 Of a cut loaf to steal a shive,'^ we know: 
 Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, 
 Better than he have yet worn Vulcan's badge. 
 
 Aa7'. Ay, and as good as Satuminus may. 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Dem. Then why should he despair, that knows 
 to court it 
 With words, liiir looks, and liberality? 
 What ! hast thou not full often struck a doe, 
 And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? 
 
 Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch 
 or so 
 Would serve your turns. 
 
 C/ii. Ay, so the turn were serv'd. 
 
 Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. 
 
 Aar. 'Would you had hit it too 
 
 Then should not we be tirM with this ado. 
 Why, hark ye, hark ye.— And are you such fools, 
 To square* tor this ? Would it olFend you then 
 That both sliould speed? 
 
 Chi. rfaith,not me. 
 
 Dem. Nor me, 
 
 So I were one. 
 
 Aar. For shame, be friends; and join for that 
 ^ you jar. 
 
 Tis policy and stratagem must do 
 That you affect; and so must you resc Ive 
 That what you cannot, as you would, achieve, 
 You must perforce accomplish as you may'. 
 Take this of n^e, Lucrece was not more chaste 
 Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. 
 A speedier course than lingering languishment 
 Must we pursue, and I have Ibund the path. 
 My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand ; 
 There will the lovely Roman ladiOs troop: 
 The forest walks are wide and spacious ; 
 And many unfrequented plots there are, 
 Fitted by kind^ for rape and viliany: 
 Single you thither then tliis dainty doe, 
 And strike her home by force, if not by words. 
 This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. 
 Come, come, our emf)ress, with her sacred' wit, 
 To villany and vengeaiice consecrate, 
 Will we aci|naiut wiih .ill tliat we intend; 
 And she shall lile our eniiines with advice. 
 That will not suller you to square yourselves, 
 But to your wishes' height advance you both. 
 The emperor's court is like the house of fame 
 The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ear^ : 
 Ttie woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and du I 
 There s]ieak, and strike, brave boys, and take your 
 
 turns : 
 There serve your lust.sliadow'd from heaven^s eye, 
 And revel in Lavinia's treasurj'. 
 
 C/ii. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. 
 
 Dem. Sit fas aiit ?iefa.s, till 1 tind the stream 
 To cool this heat, a charm to calm these tits. 
 Per Sfiji^a.pcr manes vehor. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n.— ^ Forest near Rome. A Lodge seen 
 at a distance. Hums and Cnj of Hounds ktard. 
 
 Enter TriTS Anduomcus, with Hunters, ^c 
 Maticls, Lucius, Quintus, and Maktius. 
 Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey 
 
 ^ Slice. 8 Quarrel. » Ity n;itur9 
 
 ' &.icrid here signifies iu.\-urml; a Liitinism. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TITUS AXDROXICUS. 
 
 645 
 
 The fields nre fracnint, and the woods are green: 
 Uncouple here, and let us make a bay. 
 And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, 
 And rouse the prince ; and riiij^: a hunter^s peal, 
 That all the court may echo with the noise. 
 Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours. 
 To tend the emperor's person carefully; 
 I have been troubled in my sleep this night. 
 But dawning day new comfort hath inspird. 
 
 Horns tcind a Peal. Enter Si'rcRsiNrs, Tamora, 
 
 BASsiAsrs, Lavixia, Chiuo.v, Demetrius, and 
 
 Attendants. 
 
 TU. Many good-morrows to your majesty ; — 
 Madam, to you as many and as good ! — 
 I promised your grace a hunter's peal. 
 
 Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lords, 
 Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. 
 
 Bas, Lavinia, Jiow say you ] 
 
 Lav. I say, no ; 
 
 I have been broad awake two hours and more. 
 
 Sat. Come on then, horse and chariotiilet us have. 
 And to our sport : — Madam, now shall ye see 
 Our Roman hunting. [To Tamora. 
 
 Marc. I have dogs, my lord. 
 
 Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, 
 And climb the highest promontory top. 
 
 Tif. And I have horse will follow where the game 
 Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. 
 
 Dem. Cniron, we liunt not, we, with horse nor 
 hound. 
 But liope to plucka dainty doe to gromid. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— .4 desert Part of t/ie Forest. 
 Enter Aarox, loitfi a Bag of Gold. 
 Aar. lie that had wit would think that I had none. 
 To bury so much gold under a tree. 
 And never arter to inherit- it. 
 Let him, that thinks erf me so abjectly. 
 Know, that this gold must coin a stratagem; 
 Which, cunningly elli'cted, will beget 
 A very excellent piece of villany ; 
 And so repose, sweet gold, tor their unrest,' 
 
 [Hides the Gold. 
 That have their alms out of the empress' chest. 
 
 Enter Tamora. 
 
 Tarn. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou 
 
 sad. 
 When every thing doth make a gleeful boast \ 
 The birds chaunt melody on every bush; 
 The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun ; 
 The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind. 
 And make a ehecquerM shadow on the ground : 
 Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit. 
 And— whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds. 
 Replying shrilly lo the well-tuned horns. 
 As if a doul'le hunt were heard at once, — 
 Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise : 
 And — after contlict, such as was supposed 
 The wandering prince of Dido once enjoy'd, 
 ^Vhen with a happy storm they were surpris'd, 
 And curtain'd wtth a counsel-keeping cave, — 
 \Ve may. each wreathed in the other's anns. 
 Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 
 Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious 
 
 birds. 
 Be unto us, as is a nurse's song 
 Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. 
 
 Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, 
 Saturn is dominator over mine: 
 What signihes my deadly-standing eye. 
 My silence, and iny cloudy melancholy ? 
 My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls, 
 Even as an adder, when she doth unroll 
 To do some fat.al execution ? 
 No, madam, these arc no venereal signs; 
 Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. 
 Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. 
 Hark, Tamora,— the empress of my soul. 
 Which never hopes more heaven than rests in 
 
 thee, — 
 This is the day of doom for Bassiamis; 
 His PhilomeH must lose her tongue to-day: 
 Thy sons make pillage of her chastity. 
 And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. 
 Seest thou this letter ! take it up, I pray thee, 
 « Possess.. 3 Disquiet. 
 
 • S-ie Ovid's MeU-miorphosea, book vL 
 
 And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll : — 
 Now question me no more, we are espied ; 
 Here comes a parcep of our hopeful booty. 
 Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. 
 Tani. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than 
 liic! 
 - Aar. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes 
 Be cross with him ; and I'll go fetch thy sons 
 To back thy quarrels, whatso'er they be. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Bassiaxcs and Latixia. 
 
 Bas. Wlio have we here ? Rome's royal empress, 
 Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop ! 
 Or is it Dian, habited like her; 
 Who hath abandoned her holy groves. 
 To see the general hunting in'this forest? 
 
 Turn. Saucy controller of our private steps? 
 Had I tJic power, that, some say, Dian had. 
 Thy temples should be planted presently 
 With horns, as was Acta;on's; and tlie hounds 
 Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs. 
 Unmannerly intruder as thou art! 
 
 Jmv. Under your patience, gentle emperess, 
 'Tis thought you have a goodiv gift in horning; 
 And to be doubted, that your jloor and you 
 Are singled forth to try experiments: 
 Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day ! 
 'Tis pity they should take him for a st<ig. 
 
 iJai. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian 
 Doth make your honor of his body's hue, 
 Spotted, detected, and abominable. 
 Why are you sequester'd from all your train ? 
 Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed, 
 And wander'd hither to an obscure jilot. 
 Accompanied with a barbarous Moor, 
 If foul desire had not conducted you ? 
 
 Lav. And, being intercepted in >our sport, 
 Great reason that my noble lord be rated 
 For sauciness. — I pray you, let us hence. 
 And let her 'joy her raven-color'd love; 
 This valley tits the purpose passing well. 
 
 Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of 
 this. 
 
 Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted 
 long: 
 Good king ! to be so mightily abused ! 
 
 Tain. Why have I paUence to endure all this ? 
 
 Enter Cninox and Demetrics. 
 Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our gra- 
 cious mother. 
 Why doth your highness look so pale and wan ? 
 
 Tarn. Have I not reason, think j ou, to look pale ? 
 These two have 'ticcd me hither io this place, 
 A harrcn, detested vale, yoa see, it is : 
 The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
 O'ercome with moss, and baneful mistletoe. 
 Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds, 
 Unless the nightly owl, or fat;il raven. 
 And when they snow'd me this abhorred pit. 
 They told me here, at dead time of the night, 
 A thousand liends, a thousand hissing snakes. 
 Ten tiiousand swelling toads, as many urchins,<! 
 Would make such fearful and confused cries, 
 As any mortal body, hearing it. 
 Should straight fall mad. or else die suddenly. 
 No sooner had they told this hellish tale. 
 But straight they told me they would bind me here 
 Unto the body of a dismal >ew; 
 And leave me to this miserable death. 
 And then they call'd me foul adulteress. 
 Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms 
 That ever ear did hear to such ellect. 
 And, had you not by wondrous Ibrtune come, ' 
 This vengeance on me had they executed: 
 Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, 
 Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children. 
 Dem. This is a witness that I am thy son. 
 
 [Stabs Bassianus. 
 
 Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my 
 
 strength [ Stabbing /lim likewise. 
 
 Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis, — nay, barbarous 
 
 Tamora ! 
 
 For no name tits thy nature but thy own! 
 
 Tarn. Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my 
 boys. 
 Your mother's hand shall right your mother's 
 wrong. 
 Dem. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her- 
 
 • Tart. 
 
 « Uedge-hog^, 
 
646 
 
 TITUS ANDEONICUS. 
 
 Act II. Scene IV 
 
 First, thiash the com, then alter burn the straw : 
 
 This minion stood upon her chastity, 
 
 Upon her nuptial vow, her loyally. 
 
 And with that painted hojie braves your mightiness ; 
 
 And shall she carry this unto her grave? 
 
 Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. 
 Drai; hence her husband to some secret hole, 
 And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. 
 
 Tftin. But when you have the honey you desire. 
 Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. 
 
 Chi. I warrant you, madam ; we will make that 
 sure. — ■ 
 Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy 
 That nice-preserved honesty of yours. 
 
 Lav. OTamora! Tliou bear'st a woman's face,— 
 
 Tam. I will not hear her speak ; away with her. 
 
 Lai\ Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. 
 
 Bern. Listen, lair madam: Let it be your glory 
 To see her tears : but be your heart to them, 
 As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. 
 
 Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach the 
 dam ! 
 O, do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee : 
 The milk thou suck'dst from her, did turn to 
 
 marble; 
 Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. — 
 Yet every mother breeds not sons alike ; 
 Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. 
 
 [To CniHON. 
 
 Chi. What! wouldst thou have me prove myself 
 a bastard ? 
 
 L(n\ 'Tis true ; the raven doth not hatch a lark ; 
 Yet I have heard, (O could I find it now!) 
 The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure 
 To have his princely paws pared all away, 
 .•^ome say, that ravens Ibster forlorn children. 
 The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: 
 O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, 
 Nothing so kind, but something pitiful! 
 
 Tam. I know not what it means; away with 
 her. 
 
 Imv. O, let me teach thee : for my father's sake. 
 That gave thee life, when well he might have slain 
 
 thee, 
 Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. 
 
 Tam. Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, 
 Kven for his sake am I ])itiless: — 
 Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, 
 To save your brother from the sacrifice; 
 But fierce Andronicus would not relent. 
 Therefore, away with her. and use her as you will : 
 The worse to iter, the better lov'd of me. 
 
 Lav. O Tamora, be cali'd a gentle queen. 
 And with thine own hands kill me in this place; 
 For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long; 
 Poor I was slain when Bassiaiuis died. 
 
 Tam. What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let 
 me go. 
 
 Lav. 'Tis present death I beg: and one thing 
 more, 
 That womanhood denies niv tongue to tell: 
 O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, 
 And tumble me into some loathsome pit; 
 Where never man's eye may behold my body: 
 Do this, and be a charitable murderer. 
 
 Tam. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: 
 jN'o, let them satisfy their lust on thee. 
 
 Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us licre too long. 
 
 Lau. No grace? No womanhood? Ah, beastly 
 creature ! 
 The blot and enemy to our general name ! 
 Confusion fall 
 
 Chi. Nay, then. I'll stop your mouth: — Bring 
 tliou her husband ; 
 ^, . . ,_ , [Drafiffing off l.Ayitii.\. 
 
 This IS the hole where Aaron hid us liide him. 
 
 [K.veu!i/. 
 
 Tam. Farewell, my sons: see that you make 
 her sure : 
 Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, 
 Till all the Andronici be made away. — 
 Now will I henee to seek my lovely 'Moor, 
 And let my spleenful sons tliis trull dellour. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— r^c same. 
 Enter Aahon, with QtixTis and MAnTtrs. 
 Aar. Come on, my lords ; the better foot before : 
 .■straight will I bring vou to the loathsome pit, 
 Where I espy'd the i)aniher liist asleep. 
 
 Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. 
 
 Mart. And mine, I promise you : were't not foi 
 shame, 
 Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. 
 
 [Martu'S falt^ into the Pit. 
 
 Quin. What, art thou liiUen ? What subtle hole 
 is this, 
 Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers- 
 Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood. 
 As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers? 
 A very fatal plac%it seems to nie: — 
 Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? 
 
 Mart. O, brother, with the dismallest object 
 That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament. 
 
 Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to find 
 them here; 
 That he thereby may give a likely guess, 
 How these were they that made away his brother 
 
 [Exit Aahon. 
 
 Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out 
 From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole ? 
 
 Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear: 
 A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; 
 IMy heart suspects more than mine eye can see. 
 
 Afart. To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, 
 Aaron and thou look down into this den. 
 And see a fearful sight of blood and death. 
 
 Quin. Aaron is gone ; and my compassionate heart 
 Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
 The thing whereat it trembles by surmise : 
 O. tell me how it is; for ne'er till new 
 Was I a child, to fear I know not wliat. 
 
 Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrued here, 
 All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb. 
 In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. 
 
 Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'lis het 
 
 Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
 A precious ring, that lightens all the hole. 
 Which, like a taper in some monument. 
 Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, 
 And shows the ragged entrails of this pit: 
 So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, 
 When he by night lay bathed in'maiden blood. 
 
 brother, help me with thy fainting hand— 
 If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath — 
 Out of this fell devouring receptacle, 
 
 As hateful as Cocytns' misty mouth. 
 Quin. Reach me thy hanil, that I may help thee 
 out; 
 Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 
 
 1 may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb 
 Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. 
 
 I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. 
 
 Mart. Nor I no strength to climb without thy 
 help. 
 
 Quin. Thy hand once more ; I will not loose again 
 Till Ihou art here aloft, or I below : 
 Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. 
 
 [Falls in 
 Enter Satckninus and Aabon. 
 
 Sat. Along with me :— I'll see what hole is hero 
 And wliat he is, that now is leap'd into it. 
 Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend 
 Into this gaping hollow of the earth? 
 
 Mart. The unhapjiy son of old Andronicus; 
 Brought hither in a most unlucky hour. 
 To find tliy brother Bassiaiuis dead. 
 
 Sat. My'brother dead ? I know thou dost but jest 
 Ho and his lady both are at the lodge. 
 l']ion the north side of this pleasant chase: 
 'Tis not an hour since 1 letl him there. 
 
 Mart. We know not where you left him all alive. 
 But, out alas! here have we found him dead. 
 
 Enter Tamora, with Attendants; TiTua ANona 
 
 NiCLS, U)ld LfCIlS. 
 
 ' Tant. Where is my lord the king ' 
 
 .So/. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with kiUing 
 
 grief. 
 Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus? 
 Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search m} 
 wound ; 
 Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. 
 
 Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, 
 [Giving a teitfi 
 The complot of this timeless' tragedy ; 
 And wonder greatly, that man's fiice can fold 
 In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. 
 ' Uutimel^. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 G-17 
 
 Sat. [Reads.] An if we mlistomeet him hand- 
 soiitely, — j 
 
 Sweet kunt.i/uaii, Eassianus Vw, ice mean, — 
 Do Ihou so much as ilig the grave for him ; 
 Thou, know^stimr meaning: Look for I hy reward 
 Among the nettles at the elder-tree. 
 Which overshailes the mouth of that same pit, 
 Where we decreed to bury Bassiunus. 
 Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. 
 O, Taraora ! was ever heard the like I 
 This is the pit, and this the elder-tree: 
 Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out, 
 That sliould have murder'd Bassianus here. 
 
 Aar. J\Iy gracious lord, here is the has of gold. 
 
 \_iihowing it . 
 
 Sat. Two of thy wlielps, [To Tit.] icU curs of 
 bloody kind. 
 Have here berel't my brother of his life : — 
 Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; 
 There let them bide, until we have devis'd 
 Some never-heard-of torturing pain for tliem. 
 
 Tarn. What, are they in this pit 1 O wondrous 
 thing! 
 How easily murder is discovered ! 
 
 Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee 
 I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, 
 That this fell (ault of my accursed sons, 
 Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them, 
 
 Sat. l( it be provM ! you see it is apparent,^ 
 Who found this letter ! Taraora, was it you ! 
 
 Tam. Andronicus himself did take it up. 
 
 Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail: 
 For by my lather's reverend tomb, I vow, 
 Theyshall be ready at your highness' will. 
 To answer their suspicion with their lives. 
 
 Sat. Thou Shalt not bail them : see, thou follow 
 me. 
 Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur- 
 derers : 
 Let them not speak a word, tlie guilt is plain : 
 For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, 
 That end upon them should be executed. 
 
 Tam. Andronicus, I will entreat the king; 
 Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. 
 
 Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with 
 them. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE X.—The same. 
 Enter Demetrics and Ciiiaox, with Lavin'ia ; her 
 hands cut off, and her Tongue cut out. 
 Dem.So now.go tell, an if thy tongue can speak. 
 Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravisli'd thee. 
 Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning 
 so ; 
 And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. 
 Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she can 
 
 scowl. 
 Cki. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy 
 hands. 
 
 Dcm. She hath no tongus to call, nor hands to 
 
 wash ; 
 And so let's leave her to her silent walks. 
 
 Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. 
 Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the 
 
 cord. [Exeunt Demetkius and Chirox. 
 
 Enter Marccs. 
 Marc. Who's this, — my niece, that flies away so 
 
 fast! 
 Cousin, a word; Where is your husband 1 — 
 If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wako 
 
 me ! 
 If I do wake, some planet strike me down. 
 That I may slumber in eternal sleep ! — 
 Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands 
 Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare 
 Of her two branches 1 those sweet ornaments. 
 Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep 
 
 in; 
 And misht not gain so great a happiness. 
 As half "thy love ! Why dost not speak to me 1 — 
 Alas, a criinson river of warm blood, 
 Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind. 
 Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips. 
 Coming and going with thy honey breath. 
 I3ut, sure, some Tcreus liath dedourcd thee ; 
 And, lest Ihou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. 
 Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! 
 And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, — 
 As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, — 
 Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's tace, 
 Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. 
 Shall I speak for thee ! shall I say, 'tis .so 1 
 (). that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, 
 That I might rail at him to ease my mind! 
 Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd. 
 Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 
 Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue. 
 And in a tedious sainjiler sew'd her mind: 
 But, lovely niece, that mean is cut irum thee; 
 A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal. 
 And he hath cut those jjretly fingers oil; 
 That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 
 O, had the monster seen those lily hands 
 Tremble, like aspen-lcavcs, upon a lute. 
 And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, 
 He would not then have touch'd them lor hislilc; 
 Or. had he heard the heavenly harmony, 
 Whicli that sweet tongue hath made. 
 He would iiave dropji'd his knile, aixl fell asleep, 
 As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's'- leet. 
 Come, let us go. and make thy father bhnd : 
 For such a sight will blind a father's ey e : 
 One hour's slorin will drown liie fragrant meads; 
 What will \\Jiole months of tears thy lather's 
 
 eyes'! 
 Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee ; 
 0, could our mourning case thy misery ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT TIL 
 
 SCENE L— Rome. A Street. 
 
 Enter Senators. Tribunes, and. Ollicers rf Justice, 
 with MARTifS and QriNTUs, bound, pa.ysing on 
 to tlie Place of Execution : TtTis going before, 
 pleading. 
 Tit. Hearme, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! 
 
 For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 
 
 In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; 
 
 For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; 
 
 For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; 
 
 And for tliese bitter tears, which now you see 
 
 Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; 
 
 Be pitiful to my condemned sons. 
 
 Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought ! 
 
 For two and twenty sons 1 never wept, 
 
 Because they died m honor's lolly bed. 
 
 For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write 
 
 [Throwing himself an the Grmmd. 
 
 My heart's deep languor, andniy soul's sad tears. 
 
 Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; 
 
 My sons' sweet blood will make il shame and blush. 
 [Exeunt Senalors, Tribunes, ^c. ivith 
 the Prisoners. 
 
 O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain. 
 That shall distil from these two ancient urns. 
 Than youthful April shall with all his showers: 
 In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; 
 In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow. 
 And keep eternal spnng-lime on thy liice. 
 So thou leluse to drink my dear sons' blood. 
 Enter Liciis, tvilh hu Sword drawn. 
 0, reverend tribunes! gentle aged men! 
 Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death ; 
 And let me say, that never wept before, 
 Mv tears are now prevailing orators. 
 
 f.uc. O, noble father, you lament in vain; 
 The tribunes hear you not, no man is by. 
 And you recount your sorrows to a stone. 
 
 Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: 
 Grave tribunes, once more I entreat ot you. 
 
 Luc. INIy gracious lord, no tribune hears you 
 speak. 
 
 Tit, Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, 
 They would not mark me ; or, if they did mark. 
 All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. 
 
 • Orpheus. 
 
648 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act III 
 
 Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ; 
 VVlin, tlioiigh they cannot answer my distress, 
 Yet in some sort they're better tlian the tribunes, 
 For that lliey will not intercept my tale : 
 When I do weep, ihey humbly at "my I'eet 
 Receive my tears, and seem to weep wilh me; 
 And, were they but altired in grave weeds, 
 Rome could afford no tribune like to these. 
 A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard than 
 
 stones : 
 A stone is silent, and oHendelh not; 
 And tribunes with theirtonj^ues doom men to death. 
 But wherclore stajid'^t thou with tliy weapon 
 drawn ? 
 
 LuC' To rescue my two brothers from I heir death; 
 For which atten)pt, tile judges have pronounced 
 My everlasting doom of banishment. 
 
 Tit. O happy man ! they have befriended thee. 
 Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive 
 That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers] 
 Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey, 
 Hut me and mine : How happy art thou, then. 
 From tliese devourers to be banished I 
 Hut who comes w-ith our brotiicr Marcus here] 
 Enter Marci'S imd Lavikia. 
 
 Mtirc. Titus, prepare Ihy noble eyes to weep; 
 Or, if not so, tliy noble heart to break ; 
 I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. 
 
 Tit. Will it consume me 7 let nie see it then. 
 
 Mure. This was thy daughter. 
 
 Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. 
 
 i,;/f. Ahmc! this object kills mc! 
 
 2\t. I'aint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon 
 !icr : — 
 Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand 
 Halh made thee haiidless in thy lather's sight l 
 What fool hath addetl water to the sea ? 
 Or brought a laggot lo bright-burning Troy? 
 My grief was at the lieight before thou cam'st, 
 And now, like Nilus,' it disdaineth bounds. — 
 Mivc me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; 
 For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain ; 
 And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding lile ; 
 In bootless prayer have they been held up. 
 And they have scrv'd me to ellectless use; 
 Now, all the service I require of them 
 Is that the one will helji lo cut Ihe other.— 
 'Tis well, Lavinia, that Ihou hast no bauds; 
 For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. 
 
 i»c. Speak, genlle sister.who hath martyr'd thee ? 
 
 Mnrc. 0,Jhat delightful engine of her thoughts. 
 That blabb'd them wilh such pleasing eloquence, 
 Is torn from forth that prelty hollow cage; 
 Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
 Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! 
 
 Luc. 0, say Ihou Ibr her, who fiath done this 
 deed? 
 
 Marc. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, 
 Seeking to hide herself as dolh Hie deer. 
 That hath rcceiv'd some unrecuring wound. 
 
 Til. It was my deer, and he that wounded her 
 Ilath hurt me niore, liian had he killed me dead : 
 For now I stand as one upon a rock, 
 Knviron'd with a wilderness of sea; 
 Who marks the wa.iting tide grow wave by wave. 
 Expecting ever when some envious surge 
 Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 
 Thi.s way to death my wretched sons are gone; 
 Here stands my other son, a banish'd man ; 
 And here my brotiicr, weeping at my woes; 
 Rut that, which gives my soul the greatest .spurn. 
 Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. — 
 Had I but seen thy picture in this plight. 
 It W(nilil have madded me ; What shall I do 
 Now 1 bidiold Ihy lovely body so ! 
 Thiui liast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; 
 Nor longue, to tell me who hath marlyr'd thee: 
 Thy husliand ho is dead ; and, for his death, 
 Thy broihers are condemn'd, and dead by this: 
 Look, M.ircus! ah, son Lucius, look on her ! 
 When 1 did iiaim- her brc theis, llieii fresh lears 
 Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew 
 Upon a galher'd lily almost wither'd. 
 
 Marc. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd 
 her husband : 
 Perchance, because she knows lliem innoeent. 
 
 Tit. If Ihey did kill Ihy husband, then be joyful, 
 Because tile law halh ta'en revenge on tlieiii. — 
 •Theriver .MIu. 
 
 No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ; 
 
 Witness the sorrow t/iat their sister makes. — 
 
 Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips; 
 
 Or make some sign how I may do thee case ; 
 
 Shall Ihy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, 
 
 And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain ; 
 
 Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks 
 
 How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not dry 
 
 With miry slime lelt on them by a flood I 
 
 And in the fountain shall we gaze so long. 
 
 Till Ihe fresh taste be taken from that clearness, 
 
 And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? 
 
 Or shall we cut away our hands, like lliiue? 
 
 Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows 
 
 Pass the remainder o'f our hateful days ? 
 
 What shall we do? let us that have our tongues, 
 
 Plot some device of further miserjs 
 
 To make us wonder'd at in time to come. 
 
 Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears ; for at your 
 grief. 
 See how my wrelthed sister sobs and weeps. 
 
 Marc. I'atience, dear niece ; — good Titus, dry 
 thine eyes. 
 
 Tit. Ah, I\Larcus, M.arcus ! brother, well I wot,' 
 Thy naiikin- cannot drink a tear ol" mine. 
 For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thme 
 own. 
 
 Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. 
 
 Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her 
 signs ; 
 Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say 
 Tliat to her brother which I said to thee; 
 Ills napkin, with his true tears all bewet. 
 Can do no service on her sorrowful checks: 
 (), what a sjmpathy of woe is this? 
 As lar from help as" limbo is from bliss! 
 Enter AaiiO-N'. 
 
 Aar. Titus .\ndronicus, my lord the emperor 
 Sends thee this word,— That.'if tliou love thy sons. 
 Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, 
 Or any one of you, chop oil' your hand. 
 And scud it to the king: he Ibr the same. 
 Will send thee hither both Ihy sons alive; 
 And that shall be the ransom liir their liiult. 
 
 Til. O, gracious emperor ! O, geiille Aaron ! 
 Did ever raven sing so like a lark. 
 That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ? 
 Wilh all my heart, I'll send the emperor 
 My hand ; 
 tiood Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off! 
 
 Luc. Stay, latlier; lor that noble hand of thine. 
 That halh thrown down so many enemies. 
 Shall not be sent: my baud will serve the turn: 
 My youth can better spare my blood than you ; 
 And therefore mine shall save my brothers'' lives. 
 
 Marc. Which of your hands liath not delendej 
 Rome, 
 .\nd rear'd aloft the bloody ballle-axe, 
 Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? 
 O, none of bolli but are of high desert: 
 My hand hath been but idle; let it serve 
 To ransom my two nephews from their death ; 
 Then have I kept it lo a worthy end. 
 
 Aar. Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along. 
 For lear they die belbre their pardon come. 
 
 Marc. My liand shall go. 
 
 Luc. By heaven, it shall not go 
 
 Tit. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs as 
 these 
 Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. 
 
 Luc. Sweet father, if I sliall be thought thy 
 son. 
 Let me redeem my broihers both from death. 
 
 Marc. And, for our lather's sake, and mothei'a 
 care. 
 Now let me show a brother's love to thee. 
 
 Tit. Agree belween you ; I will spare my hand. 
 
 Luc. Then 1 11 go fetch an axe. 
 
 ^larc. But I win use the axe 
 
 \ Exeunt hvcivs ami MAiicua- 
 
 Tit. Come liilher, Aaron ; I'll deceive them both- 
 Loud me Ihy hand, and I will give thee mine. 
 
 Aar. II that be call'd deceit. I will be honest. 
 And never, whilst I live, deceive men so :— 
 But 1 II deceive you in another sort, 
 .■Vud that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. 
 
 [Aside. 
 [He cuts off Titus's lla'td. 
 
 ' Know. s IlaudlaMcbiui: 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 649 
 
 Enter Lucius and Marcus. 
 
 Tit. Now. stay your strife; what shall be, is de- 
 spatch'd. — 
 Good Aaron, give his mnjesty my hand : 
 Tell him, it was a hand that warded him 
 From thousand dangers: bid him bury it; 
 More hath it merited, tiiat Jet it have. 
 As for my sons, say, I account of them 
 Ah jewels purcliasM at an easy price ; 
 And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 
 
 Aar. I go, Andronicus : and for thy hand, 
 Look by and by to have thy sons with thee : — 
 Their heads, 1 'mean.— O, how this villany 
 
 {Asiiie* 
 roth fat me with the very thoughts of it ! 
 Let fools do good, and tiiir men call tor grace, 
 Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [ExU. 
 
 Tit. O, liere I lilt this one Jiand up to heaven, 
 And bow tliis feeble ruin to the earth : 
 If any power pities wretched tears. 
 To that I call:— What, wilt thou kneel with me? 
 
 {To Lavinia. 
 Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our 
 
 prayers; 
 Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin^ dim, 
 And stain the sun with fog. as sometime clouds, 
 Wlicn they do hug him in their melting bosoms. 
 
 Marc. brother, speak with possibilities, 
 And do not break into these deep extremes. 
 
 Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom ] 
 Then be my passions'* bottomless with them. 
 
 Marc. But yet let reason govern thy lament. 
 
 Tit. It there were reason lor these miseries, 
 Then into limits ciuild 1 bind my woes: 
 When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o*er- 
 
 f!ow l 
 If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, 
 Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoln face 1 
 And wilt thou have a reason lor this coil V^ 
 I am the sea ; hark, how her sighs do blow I 
 She is the weeping welkin, I the earth : 
 Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; 
 Then must my earth wilh her continual tears 
 Become a deluge, overllow'd and drown'd : 
 For why! my bowels cannot liide iier woes, 
 But, like a drunkard, must I vomit them. 
 Tiien give me leave; lor losers will have leave 
 To ease their stomachs wilh their bitter tongues. 
 
 Enter a Messenger, xmth twn Heads and a Hand. 
 
 Me$s. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid 
 For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. 
 Here are the heads of thy two noble sons ; 
 And liere's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back: 
 Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd: 
 That woe is me to think upon thy woes. 
 More than remembrance of my father's death. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Marc. Now let hot /Etna cool in Sicily, 
 And be my heart an ever-burning hell! 
 These miseries are more than may be borne! 
 Toweepwith them that weep, doth ease some deal, 
 But sorrow Iloiited at is double death. 
 
 Luc Ah, that this siglit should make so deep a 
 wound, 
 And yet detested life not shrink thereat ! 
 That ever death should let life hear his name. 
 Where life iurth no more interest but to breathe ! 
 [Lavinia kisses fiini. 
 
 Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, 
 As tVozen water to a starved snake. 
 
 Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? 
 
 Marc. Now, farewell, (lattery: Die, Andronicus: 
 Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads; 
 Thy warlike hand; tliy mangled daughter here; 
 Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 
 Struck pale and bloodless; and tliy brother, I, 
 Even like a stony image, cold antf numb. 
 Ah ! now no more will I control thy griefs: 
 Rend off tliy silver hair, thy other hand 
 Gnawing with thy teeth ; an<l be this dismal sight 
 Tlie closing up of our most wretched eyes ! 
 Now is a time to storm ; why art thou still ? 
 
 Tit. Ha. ha. ha ! 
 
 Marc. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this 
 hour'. 
 
 Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: 
 Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, 
 
 a The sky. ■• SuffL-iiog. • Stir, bustle. 
 
 And would usurp upon my wat'ry eyes, 
 
 And make them blind with tributary tears; 
 
 Then which way shall I hnd revenge's cave? 
 
 For these two heads do seem to speak to me ; 
 
 And threat me^I shall never come to bliss. 
 
 Till all these mischiefs be returned again. 
 
 Even in tlieir throats that have committed them. 
 
 Come, let me see what task I have to do. — 
 
 You heavy people, circle me about; 
 
 That I may turn me to each one of you, 
 
 And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. 
 
 Tiie vow is made.— Come, brother, take a head ; 
 
 And in tliis hand the other will I bear: 
 
 Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; 
 
 Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy 
 
 teeth. 
 As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight : 
 Thou art an exile, and thou must not slay : 
 Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there: 
 And, if you love me, as I think you do, 
 Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. 
 
 [Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and h^wisik, 
 Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; 
 The woefuTst man that ever liv'd in Rome ! 
 Farewell, j)roud Rome! till Lucius come again, 
 He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. 
 Farewell. Lavinia, my noble sister; 
 O, 'would thou wert as thou 'toforc hast been! 
 But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia, lives, 
 But in oblivion, and hateful grids. 
 If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; 
 And make proud Saturninus and his empress 
 Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. 
 Now will 1 to the Goths, and raise a power, 
 To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit* 
 
 SCENE 11.— .4 Room in Titus's House. 
 A Banquet set out. 
 Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young Lu- 
 cius, a Boy. 
 
 Tit. So, so; now sit: and look you eat no moro 
 Than will preserve just so much strength in us 
 As will roveuf^e these bitter woes of ours. 
 Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; 
 Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, 
 An'd cannot passionate our tenfold grief 
 With iblded arms. This poor right hand of mine 
 Is lelt to tyrannize upon my breast ; 
 And wlien my heart, all mad with misery, 
 Beats in this hollow prison of my tlcsh, 
 Then thus 1 thump it down.— 
 Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs ! 
 
 [To Lavinia 
 When tliy poor heart beatswith outrageous beating, 
 Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 
 Wound it wilii sighing, girl, kill it witli groans; 
 Or get some little knile between tliy teeth, 
 And just against lliy iieart make thou a hole ; 
 That all (he tears that thy poor eyes let fall, 
 May run into tliat sink, and soaking in, 
 Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salL tears. 
 
 Marc. Fye, brother, lye ! teach her not thus to 
 lay 
 Such violent hands upon her tender life. 
 
 Td. How now! has sorrow made thee dote 
 already \ 
 Wliy, Marcus, no man should be mad but T. 
 What violent hands can she lay on her life \ 
 Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands;— 
 To bid yEneas tell the tale twice o'er, 
 How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? 
 O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands; 
 Lest we remember still, that we have none.— 
 Fye, fye, how franticly I square my talk! 
 As if we should Ibrget we had no hands, 
 It Marcus did not name the word of har.ds! 
 Come^ let's fall to ; and, gentle girl, eat this : — 
 Here is no drink ! Hark, Marcus, what she says ;— 
 I can interpret all her martyr'd signs: — 
 She says, she drinks no other drink but tears, 
 Brew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her cheeks :6 
 Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; 
 In thy dumb action will I be as perfect, 
 As begging hermits in their holy prayers: 
 Thou shall notsigh,nor hold thy stumps to heaven, 
 Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, 
 But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet. 
 And, by stilU practice, learn to know thy meaning, 
 6 An allusiun to brewing. ' Constant or continual practice. 
 
650 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep 
 laments; 
 Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 
 
 Marc. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd, 
 Doth weep to see his grandsire's iieaviness. 
 
 Tit. Peace,tendersapling; thou-art madeof tears, 
 And tears will quicl<ly melt thy lite away. — 
 
 [Marcus strikes the DLih ivitfi a Knife. 
 What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knile ! 
 
 Marc. At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a tly. 
 
 Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thoukill'stmyheart: 
 Mine eyes are cloy'd witli view ol" tyranny ; 
 A deed of death, done on tlie innocent, 
 Becomes not Tilus' brother : Get thee gone ; 
 I see thou art not for my company. 
 
 Marc. Alas, my lord. I have but killM a tly. 
 
 Tit But how, it' that llv had a father and mother] 
 How would he hang lii 'slender gilded wings. 
 And buz lamenting doings in the air 1 
 Poor harmless tly ! 
 
 That with his pretty buzzing melody. 
 Came here to make us merry ; and thou hast kill'd 
 him. 
 
 Marc. Pardon me, sir: 'twas a black ill-fa vor'd 
 
 fly. 
 
 Like to the empress Moor; therefore I kill'd him. 
 
 nt. O, O, 0, 
 Tlien pardon me for reprehending thee, 
 For thou hast done a charitable deed. 
 Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; 
 Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, 
 Come hither purposely to poison me. — 
 There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. — 
 Ah, sirrah !9 — 
 
 Yet I do think we are not brought so low, 
 But that, between us, we can kill a dy. 
 That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. 
 
 Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on 
 him. 
 He takes false shadows for true substances. 
 
 Tit. Come, take away. — Lavinia, go with me: 
 I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee 
 Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. — 
 Come, boy, and go with me ; thy sight is young, 
 And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I,— Before Titus's House. 
 
 Enter Titus and Marcus. The?} enter young 
 Lucius, Lavima running after him. 
 
 Boy. Ht'Ip, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia 
 Follows me everywhere. 1 know not why: — 
 Good uncle Marcus, see how switl she comes ! 
 Alas, sweet aunt, 1 know not what you mean. 
 
 Marc. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine 
 aunt. 
 
 Tit. She lovesthee, boy, toowell to do thee harm. 
 
 Boy. Ay. when my father was in Rome, slie did. 
 
 Marc. What means my niece Lavinia by these 
 signs \ 
 
 Tit. Fear her not, Lucius :— Somewhat doth she 
 mean : 
 See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee : 
 Somewhither would she have thee go with lier. 
 Ah, boy, CorncHa never with more care 
 Read lb her sons, than she hath read to thee, 
 Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator.^ 
 Canst tliou not guess whereto re she plies thee thus? 
 
 Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, 
 Unless some tit or frenzy do possess her: 
 For I have heard my grandsirc say full ofl, 
 Extremity of griefs would make men mad; 
 And I have read that Hecuba of Troy 
 Kan mad through sorrow: That made me to fear: 
 Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt 
 Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, 
 And would not, but in fury, fright my youth : 
 Which made me down to throw my books, and fly; 
 Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet aunt: 
 And. madam, if my uncle Marcus go, 
 I will most willingly attend your ladyship. 
 
 Marc. Lucius, I will. 
 
 [Lavinia turns over tfie Book^ tvkicti 
 Lucius has let fall. 
 
 Tit. How now, Lavima 1 — Marcus, what means 
 this? 
 Some book there is that she desires to see: — 
 Which is it, girl, of these? — Open them, boy.— 
 iiut tliou art deeper read, and better skiU'd; 
 Come, and take choice of all my library, 
 And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens 
 Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. — 
 Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? 
 
 Marc. I think, she means, tliat tliere was more 
 than one 
 Confederate in the fact: — Ay, more there was: — 
 Or else to heaven slie heaves (hrm lor revenge. 
 
 Tit. Lucius, wli:it book is tli;it she tosseth so? 
 
 Btiy. Grandsirc. 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; 
 My niother gave't me. 
 
 'M(irc. For love of jier that's gone, 
 
 Pcrliaps she cull'd it from among the rest. 
 
 Tit. Soil! see, how busily she turns the leaves! 
 Help her: — 
 
 • Tully's Treatise on Eloq^uence, entitled Orator. 
 
 What would she find? — Lavinia, shall I read? 
 This is the tragic tale of Philomel, 
 And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape; 
 And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. 
 
 Mar. See, brother, see; note, how she quotes^ 
 the leaves. 
 
 Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thussurpris'd,sweetgirl, 
 Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was. 
 Forced in the ruthless,^ vast, and gloomy woods \ — 
 
 See, see ! 
 
 Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, 
 ( 0, had we never, never, hunted there ! ) 
 Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, 
 By nature made for murders, and for rapes. 
 
 Marc. O why should nature build so foul a den, 
 Unless the gods delight in tragedies! 
 
 Tit. Give signs, sweet giri^— for here are none 
 but friends, — 
 What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: 
 Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, 
 That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? 
 
 Marc. Sit down, sweet niece;— brother, sit down 
 by me. — 
 Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, 
 Inspire me, that 1 may this treason find ! — 
 My lord, look here; — Look here, Laviuia: 
 This sandy plot is plain ; guide, if thou canst, 
 This after me, wlien I have writ my name 
 Without the help of any hand at all. 
 
 [He ivrites his Name wiik Im Sfajf. and 
 guides it with his Ftet and Mhuth. 
 Curs'd be that heart, that Ibrccd us to this shift! — 
 Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last, 
 What God will have disoover'd for revenge : 
 Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, 
 That we may know the traitors, and the truth ! 
 
 [ She fakes tfie Stajf' in her Mouth, and guides 
 it with her Stumps, and writes. 
 
 Tit. 0, do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? 
 Stujira7ji — Chiron — Demetrius. 
 
 Marc. What, what! — the lustful sons of Tamora 
 Performers of this heinous, bloody deed ? 
 
 Tit. Magne Dominator poll. 
 Tarn lentus audis sceleraP tam lentus fides? 
 
 Marc. O, calm thee, gentle lord I although I 
 know. 
 There is enough written upon this earth, 
 To stir a mutiny in the mildest thouglUs, 
 And arm the minds of inlants to exclaims. 
 My lord, kneel down with me ; Lavinia, kneel; 
 And kneel, sw^eet boy, the Roman Hector's liope; 
 And swear with me,— as with the woeful lecre,^ 
 And lather, of that chaste dishonorM dame, 
 Lorii Junius Brutus swarc lor Lucrece'' rape, — 
 That we will prosecute, by good advice. 
 Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, 
 And see their blood, or die with this reproach, 
 
 8 This was formerly not a disrespectful expression. 
 * Observes. a ritiless. " llusbnut^ 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 651 
 
 Tit. 'Tis ^ure enough, and you knew how. 
 But if you hurt these bear-wlieips, then beware: 
 The dam will wake; and, il'she wind you once, 
 Slie's witli the lion deeply still in league, 
 And lulls him while she playeth on her back, 
 And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list. 
 You're a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone; 
 And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass. 
 And with a gad' of steel will write these words, 
 And lay it by: the angry northern wind 
 \Vill blow these sinds, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad. 
 And Where's youi lesson then?— Boy, what say you 1 
 
 Boi/. I say, m» lord, that if I were a man. 
 Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe 
 Fur these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. 
 
 Marc. Ay, that's my boy ! thy father hath lull ofl 
 For this ungrateful country done the like. 
 
 Bou. And uncle, so will I. an ill live. 
 
 Tit. Come, go with me into mine armory; 
 Lucius, I'll fit thee ; and withal, my boy 
 Shall carry from me to the empress' sons 
 I'resents, that I intend to send them both : 
 Come, come; thou'ltdo thy message, wilt thou not? 
 
 Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grand- 
 sire. 
 
 Tit. No, boy, not so ; FlI teach thee another course. 
 Lavinia, come: — Marcus, look to my liouse; 
 Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court ; 
 Ay, marry, will we, sir: and we'll be waited on. 
 
 [Exeunt Titus, Lati.nia, and Boy. 
 
 Marc. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, 
 And not relent, or not compassion liim \ 
 Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy ; 
 That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, 
 Tlian foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield : 
 But jet so just, that he will not revenge : — 
 Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Room in tlie Palace. 
 Enter Aaron, Chiron', and Demetuics, at one 
 JJnor ; at anot/ier Door, ytmn^ Lucius and an 
 Attendant, ivilh. a bundle if Weapons, and 
 Verses writ upon tlient. 
 
 Clii. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; 
 He hath some message to deliver us. 
 Aar. Ay, some mad message fi-om his mad grand- 
 father. 
 Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, 
 I greet your honors from Andronicus ; — 
 And pray the Roman gods confound you both. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 De/n. Gr,amercy,5 lovely Lucius : What's the news? 
 
 Boy.Thaiyou a re both decipher'd, that's the news. 
 
 For Villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it 
 
 please you. 
 My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me 
 The goodliest weapons of his armory, 
 To gratify your honorable youth. 
 The" hope of Rome : for so lie bade me say ; 
 And so 1 do, and with his gifts present 
 Your lordships, that whenever you have need, 
 Y'ou may be armed and appointed well : 
 And so I leave you both, [Aside.] like bloody vil- 
 lains. [Exeunt Boy and Attendant. 
 Deni. What's here? A scroll; aiid written round 
 ,^ about ? 
 Let's see. 
 
 Integer nVa', scelen^Que purus, 
 Non eget Maurijaculis, ncc arcu. 
 
 Cfii. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: 
 I read it in the grammar long ago. 
 Aar Ay, just! — a verse in Horace: — right, you 
 have it. 
 Now, what a thing it is to be an ass ! 
 Here's no sound jest ! the old man hath 
 
 found their guilt ; 
 And sends the weapons wTapp'd about 
 
 with lines, 
 That wound, beyond their feeling, to the 
 
 quick. 
 But were our witty empress well a-foot. 
 She would applaud Andronicus' conceit. 
 But let her rest in her unrest awhile. — 
 And now, young lords, was't not a happy star 
 Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, 
 Captives, to be advanced to this height? 
 H did me good, before the palace gate. 
 To brave the tribune in His brother's hearing. 
 « The point of a spear. * i. e. Grand merci; great thanks. 
 
 ■ Aside. 
 
 Dem. But me more good, to see so great a lord 
 Basely insinuate, and send us git\s. 
 
 Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius? 
 Did you not use his daughter very friendly? 
 
 Veni. I would we had a thousand Roman damea 
 At such a bay. by turn to serve our lust. 
 
 Chi. A cha'ritaMe wish, and full of love. 
 
 Anr. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. 
 
 CAi. And that would she for twenty thousand 
 more. 
 
 Dem. Come, let us go ; and pray to all the gods 
 For our beloved mother in her pains. 
 
 Aar. Pray to the devils ; the gods have given us 
 o'er. [Aside. Flourish. 
 
 Dem. Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish 
 thus? 
 
 Clii. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. 
 
 Dent. Soil; who comes here ? 
 
 Enter a Nurse, witli a Black-a-moor Cliild in her 
 Arms. 
 
 Nur. Good-morrow, lords : 
 
 0, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor ? 
 
 Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, 
 Here Aaron is: and what with Aaron now? 
 
 Nur. O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone ! 
 Now help, or woe betide thee evermore ! 
 
 Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep? 
 What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms ? 
 
 Nur. 0, that which I would hide from heaven's 
 eye. 
 Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace; 
 She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd. 
 
 Aar. To whom? 
 
 S>iur. I mean, she's brought to bed. 
 
 Aar. Well, God 
 
 Give her good rest ! What hath he sent her ? 
 
 Nur. A devil. 
 
 Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam ; a joyful 
 issue. 
 
 Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful 
 issue : 
 Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad 
 Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. 
 The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, 
 And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. 
 
 ^ar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base a hue ? 
 Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. 
 
 Dent. Villain, what hast thou done? 
 
 Aar. Done ! that which thou 
 
 Canst not undo. 
 
 Vhi. Thou hast undone our mother. 
 
 Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother. 
 
 Detn. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. 
 Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice ! 
 Accurs'd the oflspring of so foul a trend ! 
 
 Chi. It shall not live. 
 
 Aar. It shall not die. 
 
 Nur. Aaron, it must: the mother wills it so. 
 
 Aar. What, must it, nurse ? then let no man but I 
 Do execution on my Ilosh and blood. 
 
 Dew. I'll broach'^ the tadjiole on my rapier's point; 
 Nurse, give it me ; my sword shall soon despatch it, 
 
 Aar. Sooner this sword sjiall plough thy bowels up. 
 [Takes lite Child from the Nurse, and draws. 
 Stay, murderous villains! will you kill j-our brother? 
 Now, by the burning tapers of the sky. 
 That shone so brightly when this boy was got. 
 He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point. 
 That touches tliis my first-born son and heir ! 
 I tell you. younglings, not Enceladus, 
 With all Ill's threafning band of Typhon's brood, 
 Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war. 
 Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. 
 What, what; ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! 
 Ye white-lim'd walls! ye ale-house painted signsl 
 Coal-black is better than another hue. 
 In that it scorns to bear another hue : 
 For all the water in the ocean 
 Can never turn a swan's black legs to white, 
 Altliough she lave them hourly in the flood. 
 Tell the eiuperess from me, I am of age 
 To keep mine own; excuse it how she can. 
 
 Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? 
 
 Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this, myself 
 The vigor and the picture of my youth: 
 This, before all the world, do I prefer; 
 This, maugre' all the world, will I keep safe, 
 Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. 
 8 Spit. ' In spite of 
 
652 
 
 TITUS AXDROXICUS. 
 
 ActIV- 
 
 Dem. Ry this our mother is for ever shamed, 
 
 Chi. Roine will despise her for this foul es^ape. 
 
 JV^»r.TIie emperor, in his rage,will doom her death. 
 
 Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy.s 
 
 ^(7r.Why,thereVtI]e privilege your beauty bears: 
 Fye, treacherous hue! thatwill betray with blushing 
 The close enacts and counsels of the heart ! 
 Here''s a younj; lad framed of another leer :9 
 Look how the Mack slave smiles upon the father; 
 As who should say, Old la.t, I ain ihine own. 
 He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed 
 Of that se!f-blood that first gave life to you ; 
 And, from that womb, where you iinprison'dwere, 
 He is enfranchised and come to light: 
 Nav, he''s your brother by the surer side, 
 Altliough my seal be stamped in his face. 
 
 Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress 1 
 
 De)n. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, 
 And we will all subscribe to thy advice; 
 Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. 
 
 Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult. 
 My son and I will have the wind of you : 
 Keep tliere: Now talk at pleasure ot'your safety, 
 {They sit on the Ground. 
 
 Dem. How many women saw this child of his? 
 
 Aar. Why, so, brave lords! when we all join in 
 league, 
 I am a lamb : but if you brave the Moor, 
 The chafed boar, tiie mountain lioness. 
 The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.— 
 But. say again, how many saw the child ] 
 
 Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself: 
 And no one else but the deliver^ empress. 
 
 Aar. The empercss, the midwife, and yourself: 
 Two may keep counsel when the thirdVaway : 
 Go, to the empress; tell her, this I said : — 
 
 [Stabbing her. 
 Weko. woke ! — so cries a pig prepared to the spit. 
 
 Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron! Wherefore 
 didst thou this? 
 
 Anr. O, lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: 
 Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours ? 
 A long-tongued babbling gossip ? no, lord.s, no. 
 And now be it known to you my full intent. 
 Not far, one Muliteus lives, my countryman; 
 His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; 
 His child is like to her. fair as you are : 
 Go pack! with him, and give tlie mother gold. 
 And tell them both the circumstance of all ; 
 And how by this their child shall be advanced, 
 And be received for the emperor^'s heir, 
 And substituted in the place of mine, 
 To calm this tempest whirling in the court : 
 And let the emperor dandle him for his own. 
 Hark yc, lords; ye see, that I have given her phy- 
 sic, [Pointing to the Nurse. 
 And you must needs bestow her funeral ; 
 The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: 
 This done, see that you take no longer days, 
 But send the midwife presently to me. 
 The midwife, and the nurse well made away. 
 Then let the ladies tattle what they please. 
 
 Chi. Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air 
 With secrets. 
 
 Dem. For this care of Tamora. 
 
 Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron, bearing off 
 the Nurse. 
 
 Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies ; 
 There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, 
 And secretly to greet the empress' friends. — 
 Come on, you thick-iipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence ; 
 For it is you that puts us to our shifts : 
 I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots. 
 And Iced on curds and whey, and suck the goat, 
 And cabin in a cave; and bring you up 
 To be a Warrior, and command a camp. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— X Public Place. 
 
 Enter Tirrs, bearin^x Amnof^, with Letters ot the 
 
 Ends (ifth^'m ; with him M Ancv s, youJi g Lvcixjs, 
 
 and Uher GeJitlem.en, with Bows. 
 
 Tit. Come, Marcus, come; — Kinsman, this is the 
 way : — 
 Sir boy, now let me see your archery ; 
 Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight : 
 Terroji Astrasa reliquit : 
 
 » Ignominy. • ComplL-xion. i Contrive, bargain i\ith. 
 
 Be you rememberM, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled. 
 Sir, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall 
 Go sound tlic ocean, and cast your nets; 
 Happily you may find her in the sea ; 
 Yet there's as little justice as at land : — 
 No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; 
 'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, 
 And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: 
 Then, when you come to Pluto's region, 
 I pray you, deliver him this petition: 
 Tell him, it is tor justice, and for aid : 
 And that it comes from olc^ Andronicus, 
 Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. — 
 Ah, Rome!— Weil, well; I made thee miserable, 
 What time I threw the people's sufl^rages 
 On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. — 
 Go, get you gone ; and pray be careful all. 
 And leave you not a man of war unsearch'd ; 
 This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her Jience, 
 And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe lor justice. 
 
 Marc. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case, 
 To see thy noble uncle thus distract \ 
 
 Pub. Therefore, my lord, it higiily us concerns, 
 By day and night to allend him carefully; 
 And feed his humor kindly as we may. 
 Till time beget some careful remedy. 
 
 Marc. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. 
 Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war 
 Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude. 
 And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. 
 
 Tit. Publius, how now? how now, my masters! 
 What, 
 Have you met with her? 
 
 Pub. No. my good lord; but Pluto sends you 
 word. 
 If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall: 
 Marry, for Justice, she is so emptoy'd. 
 He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, 
 So tliat perforce you must needs stay a time. 
 
 Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. 
 I'll dive into the burning lake below. 
 And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. — 
 Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we ; 
 No big-bon'd men, framed of the Cyclops' size 
 But, metal, Marcus, steel to tlie very back; 
 Yet wrung- with wrongs, more than our backs can 
 
 bear: 
 And sith3 there is no justice in earth nor hell, 
 We will solicit heaven ; and move the gods, 
 To send down justice lor to wreak-* our wrongs: 
 Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus. 
 [He gives tfiejn the Arrows* 
 Ad Jovem, that's tiir you : Here, ad ApoUinem:— 
 Ad Mardem, that's for myself: — 
 Here, boy, to Pallas : — Here, to I\Tercury : 
 To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine. — 
 You were as good to shoot against the wind.— 
 To it, boy, Marcus, loose when I bid: . 
 O' my word. I have written to eliect ; 
 There's, not a god left: unsolicited. 
 
 Marc. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the 
 court; 
 We will afHict the emperor in his pride. 
 
 Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.] 0, well 
 said. Lucius! 
 Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas. 
 
 Marc. My lord. I am a mile beyond the moon ; 
 Your ktter'is with Jupiter by this. 
 
 Tit. ila! I'ubhus, Publius, what hast thou done? 
 See. see, thou hast shot ofTonc of Taurus' horns. 
 
 Marc. This was the sport, my lord: when Pub- 
 lius shot. 
 The bull, being ;^'a!l*d. gave Aries such a knock, 
 Tliat down fell both the ram's horns in the court ; 
 And wlio should find them but the empress' villain ? 
 She laugh'd and told the Moor, he sliould not 
 
 choose 
 But give them to his master for a present. 
 
 Tif. Why, -there it goes: God give your lordship 
 
 j»5y- 
 
 Enter a Clown, with a Basket and two Pigeons, 
 News, news from heaven ! Marcus, the post is 
 
 come. 
 Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? 
 Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? 
 
 C/o. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that ho 
 hath taken them down again, for the man mustnot 
 be hanged till the next week. 
 
 » Straiiietl. » Since. * Revenge. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 G53 
 
 Tit. But what says Jiipiler, I ask thee ] 
 
 Cto. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter. I never 
 drank with hiin in all my life. 
 
 Tif. Why, vllaiu, art not thou the carrier t 
 
 Clu. Ay,"of my piseons, sir; nothing else. 
 
 Tit. Wliy, didst thou not come from heaven 1 
 
 Cto. Froin heaven ! alas, sir, I never came there; 
 God forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven 
 in my youiiK days. Why, I am going with my 
 pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter 
 of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the empe- 
 rial's men. 
 
 Marc. Why, sir, that is as fit as cari be, to serve 
 for your oration ; and let him deliver the pigeons 
 (o the emperor from jou. 
 
 Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the 
 emperor with a grace ? 
 
 Cln. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in 
 all niv life. 
 
 Tit'. Sirrah, come hither, make no more iido. 
 But give your pigeons to the emperor: 
 )iy me thou shalt have justice at his hands. 
 Hold, hold ; — meanwhile, here's money for thy 
 
 charges. 
 Give me a pen and ink. — 
 Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication? 
 
 Clo. Ay, sir. 
 
 Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. And 
 when you come to him, at the first approach, you 
 must kneel; then kiss his loot; then deliver up your 
 pigeons; and then look lor your reward. I'll be at 
 hand, sir: see you do it bravely. 
 
 Clu. I warrant you, sir ; let me alone. 
 
 Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife! Come, let me 
 see it. 
 Here, JIarcus, fold it in the oration ; 
 For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant: 
 And when Ihou hast given it to the emperor. 
 Knock at my door ; and tell me what he says. 
 
 Cl(i. Tiod be with you, sir; I wiU. 
 
 Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go:— Publius, follow 
 me. \_Exeuni. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Hi-fore tlie Palace. 
 
 Enter SAiriiNiNrs, Tamoha, Chirom, Demetrics, 
 Li>rds, anl iitlicrs; Saturninus, with the Arrows 
 ill ftis Hand, ttiat TiTua i^tiut. 
 
 Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these'! Was 
 ever seen 
 An emperor of Rome thus overborne. 
 Troubled, confronled thus: and, for the extent 
 Of egal^ justice, used in .such eontemjit! 
 IMy lords, you know, as do the mightful gods. 
 However these disturbers of our peace 
 Buz in the people's ears, there naught hath pass'd, 
 But even with law, against the wiltul sons 
 Of old Andronicus. And what an if 
 His sorrows have so ovcrwhelm'd his wits. 
 Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, 
 His tits, his frenz>', and his bitterness ! 
 And now he writes to heaven lor his redress: 
 See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; 
 This to Apollo; this to the god of war: 
 Sweet scrolls to lly about the streets of Rome ! 
 What's this, but libelling against the senate. 
 And blazoning our injustice everywhere! 
 A goodly huniiir, is it not, my lords ? 
 As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 
 But, if I live, his feigned ecstacies 
 Shall be no shelter to these outrages: 
 But he and his r.hall know, that justice lives 
 In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep, 
 He'll so awake, as she in fury shall 
 Cut oil the proud'st conspirator that lives. 
 
 Tani. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, 
 Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts. 
 Calm thee, and bear the laults of Titus' age, 
 The elleets of sorrow tiir his valiantsons. 
 Whose loss hath pierced him deep, and scarr'd his 
 
 heart: 
 And rather comfort his distressed plight. 
 Than prosecute the meanest, or the best. 
 For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become 
 High-witted Tamora to gloze^ with all: [Aside. 
 But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick. 
 Thy life-blood out: If Aaron now be wise. 
 Then all is sate, the anchor's in the port.:— 
 
 » Equal. 6 Flatter. 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 How now, good fellow ! would'st thou speak 
 with us ! 
 
 Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership bo im- 
 perial. 
 
 Tarn. Km press I am, but yonder sits the emperor. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis he. God, and .Saint Stephen, give you 
 good den : — 1 have brought you a letter, and a 
 couple of pigeons liere. 
 
 [Satursixcs reals Itie Letter. 
 
 Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. 
 
 Cln. How much money must I liave ? 
 
 Tarn. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. 
 
 Cto. Hang'd ! By'r lady, then I have brought up 
 a neck to a liiir end. [Exii, suurded. 
 
 Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! 
 Shall I endure this monstrous villany! 
 1 know from whence this same device proceeds ; 
 May this be borne ! — as if his traitorous sons, ^ 
 That died by law for murder of our brother, 
 Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully. — 
 Go drag' the villain hither by the hair; 
 Nor age, nor honor, shall shape privilege :^ 
 For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaiighter-nian ; 
 Sly, frantic wretch, tiiat holp's't to make me great, 
 In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. 
 
 Enter ^MiLius. 
 What news with thee, .S^milius! 
 
 .■Emit. Arm, arm. my lords; Rome never had 
 more cause ! 
 The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power 
 Of high-resolved men, bent to thespoil. 
 They hither march amain, under conduct 
 Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; 
 Who threats, m course of this revenge, to do 
 As much as ever Corioianus did. 
 
 Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths! 
 These tidings nip me; and I hang the head 
 As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with 
 
 storms. 
 Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach : 
 'T"is he the common people love so much : 
 Myself hath oHen overheard them say, 
 (When I have walked like a private man,) 
 That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully. 
 And they have wisli'd that Lucius were their em 
 peror. 
 
 Turn. Why should you fear! is not your city 
 strong ! 
 
 Sat. Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius; 
 And will revolt from me, to succor him. 
 
 Tarn. King, be thy thoughts imperious,' like thy 
 name. 
 Is the sun diinm'd, that gnats do fly in it ! 
 The eagle sutlers little birds to sing. 
 And isliot careful what they mean thereby; 
 Knowing that with the shadow of his wings 
 He can at pleasure stint- their melody: 
 Even so may'st thou the giddy men of Rome. 
 Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor, 
 I will enchant the old Andronicus, 
 Witii words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, 
 •Than baits to tish, or honey-stalks to sheep ; 
 When as the one is wounded with the bait. 
 The other rotted with delicious feed. 
 
 Sat. But he will not entreat his son for u.s. 
 
 Tarn. If Tamora entreat him, then he will: 
 For 1 can smooth, and fill his aged ear 
 With golden promises; that, were his lieart 
 Almost impregnable, liis old ears deaf. 
 Vet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. — 
 Go thou belbre, be our ambas.sador. [ro-EMlLiL'S. 
 Say. that the emperor requests a parley 
 Ot warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting. 
 Even at his father's house, the old .\ndronicus. 
 
 Sat. -dnilius, do this message honorably: 
 And if he stand on hostage for his safely. 
 Bid him demand what pledge will please liim best 
 
 .'Emit. Your bidding shall I do etti;clually. 
 
 [Ejcit ^MILIUS 
 
 Tarn. Now will I to that old Andronicus; 
 And temper him with all the art I have. 
 To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths, 
 And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again. 
 And bury all thy fears in my devices. 
 
 Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to liim. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 1 Imperial. • Stop. 
 
654 
 
 TITUS ANDEONICUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Plains near Rome. 
 Enter Lucius and Goths, tuUh Drum and Colors. 
 
 Luc. Approved warriors, and my faithful Iricnds, 
 I have received letters from sreatRome, 
 VVliich signify wliat hate they bear their emperor. 
 And how desirous of our sight they are. 
 Tlierefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, 
 Imperious, and imjiatient of your wrongs; 
 And. wherein Rome liath done you any scath,' 
 Let him make treble satisfaction. 
 
 1 Guth. Brave slip, sprung from the great An- 
 
 dronicus. 
 Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort ; 
 Whose high exploits, and honorable deeds, 
 Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt. 
 Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, — 
 Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, 
 Led by their master to the Hower'd fields,— 
 And be avenged on cursed Tamora. 
 
 Goths. And. ashesaith.sosay we all with him. 
 
 Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank vou all. 
 But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth ? 
 
 Enter a Goth, leading Aaron, with his Child in 
 his Arms. 
 
 2 Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troops I 
 
 stray'd. 
 To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; 
 And as I earnestly did lix mine eye 
 Upon the wasted building, suddenly 
 1 heard a child cry underneath a wall : 
 
 I made unto the noise ; when soon I heard 
 The crying babe controll'd with this discourse : 
 Peace, fawnt/ slave ; half me, and half thy dam ! 
 Dul not thy hue bewray tvhose brat thou art, 
 Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, 
 Villain, thou miphlst have been an emperor: 
 But where the bull and enw are both milk-white. 
 They never do bcurt a coal-black ealf. 
 
 feme, f(:/to(((./)(?n«-.'—cvcn thus he rates thebabe,— 
 For I miixt bear thee to a tru.stii Goth; 
 Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe, 
 IViil hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake. 
 With tins, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, 
 Surpns'd him suddenly; and brought him hither. 
 To use as you think needful of the' man. 
 
 Luc. O worthy Goth ! this is the incarnate devil 
 That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand: 
 This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye ;' 
 And here's the base fruit of his burning lust.— 
 Say, wall-e5'ed slave, whither wouldst thou convey 
 This growing image of thy fiend-like face ' 
 Why dost not speak] What! deaf! No; not a 
 
 word \ 
 A halter, soldiers; h.ing him on this tree, 
 And by his side his fruit of bastardy. 
 
 Aur. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood. 
 
 Luc. Too like the sire tor ever being good. — 
 First, hang the child, that he may sec it sprawl ; 
 A sight to vex the father's soul withal. 
 Get iiie a ladder. 
 
 [-■1 ladder brou,e:ht, which Aaron is 
 obl/f::€d to ascend. 
 
 ■A'lr. Lucius, save the child; 
 
 And bear it from me to the emjicress. 
 If tliou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things. 
 That highly may advantage thee to hear: 
 
 II thou wilt not, beliill what may befall, 
 
 I'll speak no more; Butvengeance rot you all! 
 Luc. Say on , and, if it please me which thou 
 speak'st. 
 Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. 
 Aar. All if it please thee? why, assure thee, 
 Lucius, 
 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak; 
 For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres. 
 Acts ol black-night, abominable deeds, 
 ComploLs of mischief, treason ; villanies 
 Rulhful to hear, yet piteously perform'd : 
 » Harm. j 
 
 < AlluJiag to (he proverl., « 4 bl.ick man is a pearl in a 
 fair wuuiau s eye. ' 
 
 And this shall all be buried by my death. 
 Unless thou swear to me, my "child shall live. 
 
 Luc. Tell on thy mind : I say, thy child shall 
 live. 
 
 Aar. Swear, that he shall, and then I will begin. 
 
 Luc. Who should I swear by ! thou believ'st no 
 god ; 
 That granted, how canst thou believe an oath 1 
 
 Aar. What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not: 
 Yet, — for I know thou art religious. 
 And hast a thing within thee, called conscience ; 
 With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies. 
 Which I Jiave seen thee careful to observe, — 
 Therefore I urge thy oath ;— For that, I know, 
 An idiot holds his bauble for a god. 
 And keeps the oath, which by that god he swears; 
 To that I'll urge him :— Therefore thou shalt vow 
 By that same god, what god soe'er it be. 
 That thou ador'st and hast in reverence, — 
 To save my boy, to nourish, and bring him up; 
 Or else I will discover naught to thee. 
 
 Luc. Even by my god, I swear to thee, I will. 
 
 Aar. First, know thou, I begot him on the em- 
 press. 
 
 Taic. O most insatiate, luxurious woman ! 
 
 ylar. Tut, Lucius! this was but a deed of charity, 
 To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. 
 'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassiaiius: 
 They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her. 
 And cut her hands ; aiid triium'd her as thou 
 saw'st. 
 
 Luc. O, detestable villain ! call'st thou that trim- 
 ming? 
 
 Aar. Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd; 
 ana 'twas 
 Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. 
 
 Luc. 0, barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! 
 
 Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them; 
 That codding spirit had they from their mother, 
 As sure a card as ever won the set: 
 That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, 
 As true a dog as ever fought at head.— 
 Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. 
 I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole. 
 Where the dead corpse of liassianus lay : 
 I wrote the letter that thy lather found; 
 And hid the gold within'the letter mention'd, 
 Coulederate with the queen, and her two sons: 
 And wli;it not done, that thou hast cause to rue, 
 VVIierein 1 had no stroke of mischief in it? 
 I play'd the cheater for thy lather's hand ; 
 And when I had it, drew mj-self apart. 
 And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter. 
 I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall. 
 When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads: 
 Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily, 
 That both mine eyes were rainy like to his; 
 .•\.nd when I told the empress of this sport. 
 She swounded almost at my pleasing tale. 
 And, for my tidings, gave n'le twenty kisses. 
 
 Goth. What ! canst thou say all this, and never 
 blush ! 
 
 Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. 
 
 Luc. Art thou not sorry lor these heinous 
 d^'eds ? 
 
 Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. 
 Even now I curse the day, (and yet, I think. 
 Few come within the compass ol my curse,) 
 Wherein I did not some notorious ill : 
 As kill a man, or else devise his death ; 
 Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it; 
 Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; 
 Set deadly enmity between two friends; 
 Make poor men's cattle break their necks; 
 Set fire on barns and hay-staclcs in the night, 
 ."Vnd bid the owners quench them with their tears 
 Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves. 
 And set them upright at their dear friends'doois. 
 Even when their sorrows almost were forgot ; 
 And on their skins, as on the bark of trees. 
 Have with my knitc carved, in Koiuan h'llers, 
 /.(■/ not your .\iirrinv die. Ihini^h I aoi dead. 
 Tut. I have dune a thousand dreadful things. 
 As willingly as one would kill a fly : 
 
Scene II. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 655 
 
 And nothing grieves mo heartily indeed. 
 But that I cannot do ten thousiuid more. 
 
 Luc. Bring down the devil; for he must not die 
 So sweet a death, as hanging presently. 
 
 Aar. If there be devils, 'would I were a devil, 
 To live and burn in everlasting fire ; 
 So I might have your company in hell, 
 But to torment you with my bitter tongue ! 
 
 Luc. Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no 
 more. 
 
 Enter a Goth. 
 
 Goth. Mv lord, there is a messenger from Rome 
 Desires toW admitted to your presence. 
 
 Luc. Let him come near. — 
 
 Enter ^milius. 
 Welcome, JEmilius ! what's the news from Rome'? 
 
 jEmU. Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths, 
 The Roman emperor greets you all by me: 
 And, for he understands yon are in arms, 
 He craves a parley at your father's house, 
 Willing you to demand your hostages. 
 And they shall be immediately deiiver'd. 
 
 1 Gotti. What says our general T 
 
 Luc. .-Emilius, let the emperor give his pledges 
 Unto my (hther and my uncle Marcus, 
 And we" will come. — March away. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IL— Rome. Before Titus's House. 
 
 Enter Tamora, Chiron, and Demetrius, 
 difiguised. 
 
 Tarn. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, 
 I will encounter with Andronicus; 
 And say, I am Revenge, sent from below. 
 To join witli him, and right his heinous wTongs, 
 Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, 
 To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; 
 Tell him, Revenge is come to join with him. 
 And work confusion on his enemies, [Thei/ knock. 
 Enter Titus, above* 
 
 Tit. Who doth molest my contemplation 1 
 Is it your trick, to make me ope the door ; 
 That so my sad decrees may Uy away, 
 And all my study be to no effect ! 
 You are decciv'd ; for what I mean to do, 
 See here, in bloody lines I have set down; 
 And what is written shall be executed. 
 
 Tarn. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. 
 
 Tit. No; not a word: How can I grace my talk, 
 Wanting a hand to give it action ! 
 Thou bust the odds of me, therefore no more. 
 
 Tani, If thou didst know me, thou wouldst talk 
 with me. 
 
 Tit. I am not mad ; I know thee well enough : 
 Witness this wretched stump, these crimson lines; 
 Witness these trenches, made by grief and care; 
 Witness the tiring day, and heavy night ; 
 Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well 
 For our proud empress, mighty Tamora : 
 Is not thy coming for my other hand ] 
 
 Tarn. Know thou, sad man. I am not Tamora; 
 She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: 
 I am Revenge; sent from the infernal kingdom, 
 To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, 
 By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 
 Come down, and welcome me to this world's light; 
 Confer with me of murder and of death : 
 There's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place, 
 No vast obscurity, or misty vale. 
 Where bloody murder, or detested rape, 
 Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; 
 And in tlieir ears tell them my dreadful name. 
 Revenge, which makes the foul otlender quake. 
 
 Tit. Art thou Revenge 1 and art thou sent to me, 
 1 o be a torment to mine enemies? 
 
 Tuin. I am ; therefore come down and welcome 
 me. 
 
 Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to thee. 
 Lo, by thy side, where Rape and Murder stand ; 
 Now give some 'surance that thou art Revenge, 
 Stab tliem, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; 
 And then I'll come, and be thy waggoner, 
 And whirl along with thee aliout the globes. 
 Provide thee proper palfries, black as jet, 
 To hale thy vengeful waggon switt away, 
 And find out murderers in their guilty cave: 
 And, when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
 I will dismount, and by the waggon wheel 
 
 Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; 
 Even from Hyperion's rising in the east, 
 Until his very downfall in the sea. 
 And day by day I'll do this heavy task, 
 So tliou destroy Rapine and Murder there. 
 
 7V/m. These are my ministers, and come with me. 
 
 Tit. Are they thy ministers ? what are theycalPdl 
 
 Tarn. Rapine, and Murder; therefore called so, 
 'Cause they take vengeance on such kind of men. 
 
 Tit. Good lord, how like the empress' sons they 
 arc ! 
 And you. the empress! But we worldly men 
 Have miserable, mad. mistaking eyes. 
 
 sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee ; 
 
 And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, 
 
 1 will embrace thee in it fiy and by. 
 
 [Exit TiTVS, from above 
 Tarn. This closing with him fits his lunacy : 
 Whate'er I forge, to feed his brain-sick tits. 
 Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, 
 For now he firmly takes me lor Revenge; 
 And, being credulous in this mad thought, 
 I'll make him send for Lucius, his son; 
 And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, 
 I'll find some cunning practice out of hand. 
 To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, 
 Or, at the least, make them his enemies. 
 See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. 
 
 Enter Titus. 
 
 Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee. 
 Welcome, dread fury, to my woeful house; — 
 Rapine, and Murder, you are welcome too : 
 How like the empress and her sons you are I 
 Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: — 
 Could not all hell afford you such a devil ] — 
 For, well I wot. the empress never wags, 
 But in her company there is a Moor; 
 And, would you represent our queen aright, 
 It were convenient you had such a devil: — 
 But welcome, as you are. What shall we do ? 
 
 Tani.What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicusl 
 
 Dtni. Show me a murderer, I'll deal w^ith him. 
 
 Chi. SJiow me a villain, that hath done a rape, 
 And I am sent to be reveng'd on him. 
 
 Tarn. Show me a thousand, that hatfi done thee 
 wrong. 
 And I will be revenged on them all. 
 
 Tit. Look round about the wicked streets of 
 Rome; 
 And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself, 
 Good JNIurder, stab him ; he's a murderer.^ 
 Go thou witli him ; and when it is thy hap 
 To find another that is like to thee. 
 Good Rapine, stiib him ; he's a ravisher. — 
 Go thou with tliem ; and in the emperor's court 
 There is a queen, attended by a iloor; 
 Well may'st thou know lier by thy own proportion. 
 For up and down she doth resemble thee ; 
 I pray thee, do on them some violent death. 
 They have been violent to me and mine. 
 
 rftm.Well hast thou lessoiTd us; this shall we do. 
 But wotild it please thee, good Andronicus, 
 To send for Lucius, thy thrice valiant son. 
 Who leads towards Romea band of warlike Goths, 
 And bid him come and banquet at thy house: 
 When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, 
 I will bring in the empress and her sons, 
 Tlie emi)eri)r himself, and all thy foes; 
 And at thv mercy shall they stoop and kmeel, 
 And on them shall thou ease thy angry heart. 
 What says Andronicus to this device ? 
 
 Til. Marcus, my brother I — 'tis sad Titus calls. 
 
 Enter Marcus. 
 Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius ; 
 Thou sbalt inquire him out among the Goths: 
 Bid him repair to me. and bring with him 
 Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; 
 Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are : 
 Tell him, the emperor and the empress too 
 Feast at my house : and he shall feast with them. 
 This do thou for my love; and so let him. 
 As he regards his aged father's life. 
 
 Marc. This will I do, and soon return again. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Tarn. Now will I hence about thy business. 
 And take my ministers along with me. 
 
 Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with 
 me; 
 
656 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Or else I'll call my brothor back again, 
 And cleave to no "revenge but Lucius. 
 
 Tam. [To her Sons.] What say you, boysl will 
 you abide witfi him. 
 Whiles I ^o tell my lord the emperor, 
 How I have ^oveni'd our determin'd jest! 
 Yield to his humor, smooth and speak him fair. 
 And tarry with iiim, till I come again. 
 Tit. I know them all, tliough they suppose me 
 mad ; 
 And will o'er-reach them in their own devices, 
 A pair of cursed hell-hounds, and their dain. 
 
 {Aside. 
 Bern. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here. 
 Tain. Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes 
 To lay a coinplot to betray tliy foes. 
 
 [Exit Tamora. 
 Tit* I know, thou dost; and, sweet Kevenge, 
 
 farewell. 
 Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be em- 
 ployed ! 
 Tit. Tul, I have work enough for you to do. — 
 Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine ! 
 
 Enter Pltblius and others. 
 Pub. What's your wiin 
 Tit. Know yon these twol 
 
 Pub. "Th' empress' sons, 
 
 I take them, Chiron and Demetrius. 
 
 Tit. Fye, Publius, fye] Ihou art too much dc- 
 ceiv'd; 
 The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name: 
 And therclore bind them, gentle Publius; 
 Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them. 
 Ott have you heard me wish for such an hour. 
 And now J lind it; therefore bind theui sure; 
 And btop their mouths, if they begin to cry. 
 
 [Ejcit Titus.— PuBLiL'S, .^-c. lay hold on 
 Chiron and Demetuius. 
 Chi. Villains, Ibrbear: we are the empress' sons. 
 Pu'j. And theretbre do we what we are com- 
 manded. — 
 Stop close their mouths, let tliem not speak a word : 
 Is he sure bound? look, that you bind tliem fast. 
 Re-enter Titus Andronicus, loith Lavinia; &he 
 bearing a Bason, and he a Knife. 
 Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are 
 bound ; — 
 Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me: 
 But let them Jicar what fearl'ul wtnds I utter. — 
 O villains, Chiron and Demetrius I 
 Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with 
 
 mud; 
 This goodly summer with j'our winter mix'd. 
 You kill'd her husband ; and. for that vile fault. 
 Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death : 
 My hand cut off. and made a merry jest: 
 BotJi her sweet hands, her tongue, and that, more 
 
 dear 
 Than liands or tongue, her spotless chastity, 
 Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and Ibrced. 
 What would you say, if 1 sliouki let you speak? 
 Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. 
 Hark, vvretclies, Iiow I mean to martyr you. 
 This one hand yet is left to cut your throats; 
 Wiiilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold 
 The busun, thai receives your guilty blood. 
 You know, your mother meann to least with me. 
 And calls herself, Revenge, and thinks me mad, — 
 Hark, villains; I will grind your bones to dust, 
 And with your blood and it, I'll make a paste; 
 Antt of the paste a coflin- I will rear, 
 And make two pasties of your shameful heads; 
 And bid that strumpet, your unj.-Mow'd dam, 
 Like to the earth, swallow her own •^crease. 
 This i> the feast that I have bid her to. 
 And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; 
 For \v.)rse than Philomel you used my daughter. 
 And v.nrse than Progne Twill be reveng'd : 
 And now prepare your throats, — Lavinia, come, 
 
 [Be cuts ttieir Tfiruats. 
 Receive the blood : and, when tliat they are dead. 
 Let me uo ;,'rind their bones to powder small, 
 And Willi this hateful liquor temper it; 
 AiuJ in that paste let their vile heads be bak*d. 
 Come, come, be every one otbcious 
 To make this baiupiet ; wliieli 1 wish may prove 
 Wore stern and bloody than the Centaurs' least. 
 
 ' Crust of a raiscti pio. 
 
 So, now bring them in, for 1 will play the cook. 
 And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. 
 [Exeunt, bearing ttie dead Bodies* 
 
 SCExXE IIL— 4 Pavilion, with Tables, £fC. 
 
 Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths, with Aaron 
 Prisoner. 
 
 LuCt Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind 
 That I repair to Rome. I am content. 
 
 1 Gotti. And ours, with thine, befall what fortune 
 wilt. 
 
 Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous 
 Moor, 
 This ravenous tiger, tliis accursed devil ; 
 Let him receive no sustenance, tetter him, 
 Till he be brought unto the empress' face, 
 For testimony of her foul proceedings: 
 And see the ambush of our friends be strong : 
 1 fear, the emperor means no good to us. 
 
 Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear. 
 And prompt me, tltat my tongue may utter tbrth 
 The venomous malice of my swelling heart ! 
 
 Luc. Away, inhuman dog, unhallow'd slave! — 
 Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. — 
 
 [Exeunt Goths with Aarun. Flourish, 
 The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. 
 
 Enter Saturnisus and Tamora, with Tribunes, 
 Senators, atid others. 
 Sat. What! hath the linnament more suns than 
 
 one ] 
 Luc. What boots it'^ thee, to call thyself a sun 1 
 Marc. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the 
 parle ; 
 These quarrels' must be quietly debated. 
 The feast is ready whicli the careful Titus 
 Hath ordain'd to an honorable end, 
 For peace, for love, lor league, and good to Rome : 
 please jou, thereibre, draw nigh, and take your 
 places. 
 Sat. Marcus, we will. 
 
 [Hautboys found. The Coinj^anij sit down 
 at Table. 
 Enter Titus, dressed like a Cook, Layinia, veiled^ 
 young Lucius, and others. Titus places tfie 
 Dishes on the Table. 
 
 Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord: welcome, dread 
 queen; 
 Welcome, ye warlike Goths ; welcome, Lucius 
 And welcome all : although the cheer be poor, 
 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. 
 Sat. Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus ! 
 7V/. Because I would be sure to have all well, 
 To entertain your higliness, and your empress. 
 Ta//i. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus. 
 Tit. An ifyour highness knew my heart, you were. 
 My lord the emperor, resolve me "this; 
 Was it well done of rasli Virgimus, 
 To slay his daughter with his own right hand. 
 Because she was eiilbrced, stain'd, and deilour'dl 
 Sat. It was, Andronicus. 
 Tit. Your reason, mighty lord 1 
 Sat. Because the girl should not survive her 
 shame, 
 And by her presence still renew his sorrows. 
 
 Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and elfectual; 
 A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant. 
 For me, most wretched, to perform the like : — 
 Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; 
 
 17/c kills Lavinia. 
 And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die ! 
 Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural, and un- 
 kind ? 
 Tit. Xill'd her, for whom my tears have made 
 me blind. 
 I am as woeful as Virginius was: 
 And have a thousand times more cause than he 
 To do this outrage; — and it is now done. 
 Sat. WJiat, was she ravish 'd ! tell, who did the 
 
 deed. 
 Tit. Will't please you eat? wiU't please your 
 
 iiighness leed ? 
 Tarn. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter 
 
 thus? 
 Tit. Not I ; 'twas Chiron ond Demetrius : 
 They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue, 
 And they, 'twas tliey, that did her all this wrong. 
 
 3 Of what advantage is it? 
 
Scene III. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 057 
 
 Saf. Go, fetch Ihem hitJier to us proscntly. 
 
 Tit. Why. there Ihey are both, baked in that pie; 
 Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, 
 Eating the fk'sh that ahe lierself hath bred : 
 'Tis true, 'tis true : witness my knife's sharp point. 
 [KiUin.s: Tamura. 
 
 Saf. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed. 
 [KUling Titus. 
 
 Luc. Cnn the son's eye hel)uld his father bleed 1 
 
 There's meed for meed, death lor a deadly deed. 
 
 [Kit/s Satukninus. A great Tumult. T/ie 
 
 Per pie m cu/tfiisimi disperse, Makcus, 
 
 hvcics, a7id iheir PartisanSj ascendifie 
 
 Steps before Titus''s House. 
 
 Marc. You sad-liiccd men, people and sons of 
 Rome, 
 By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl 
 Scattered hy winds and hii'h tpmpesluous gusts, 
 O, let mc teach you how to knit a^ain 
 This scatter'd com into one mutual sheaf, 
 These broken limbs again int'> one body. 
 
 Sen. Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself; 
 And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, 
 Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, 
 Do shameful exccut;()u on herself. 
 }iut if my frosty signs and chai)s of age, 
 Grave witnesses ol irue experience, 
 Cannot induce you to attend iny words,— 
 Speak, Rome's dear friend; [To Lucius.] as erst 
 
 our ancestor, 
 When with his solemn tongue he did discourse 
 To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear. 
 The story of that baleful burning night. 
 When subtle Greeks surpris'd king Priam's Troy. 
 Tell us what Smon ha'h bewitehVl our ears, 
 Or who iialh brought the fatal engine in. 
 That gives our Tr(iy, our Rome, the civil wound. 
 My heart is not compact of (hnt, nor steel ; 
 Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, 
 But iloods ot tears w'ill drown my oratory, ^ 
 And break my very utierance; even i' the time 
 When it should move yon to attend me most, 
 Lending your kind commiseration: 
 Here is a captain, let him tell the tale; 
 Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. 
 
 Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, 
 That cursed Chiron and Deinelrius 
 Were they that murdered our emperor's brother; 
 And they it were thot ravished our sister: 
 For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded ; 
 Our father's tears despised; and basel}' cozen "d 
 Of that true hand, that (ought Rome's quarrel out, 
 And sent her enemies unto the grave. 
 Lastly, myself unkindly banislied. 
 The gales shut on me. and turn'd weeping out. 
 To beg relief among Rome's enemies. 
 Who drowu'd their enmity in my true tears. 
 And np'd their arms lo enibrace'me as a Iriend; 
 And I am the turn'd-forth, be it known to you, 
 That have presrrv'd her welfare in my blood; 
 And from licr bosom took the enemy's point. 
 Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body. 
 Ahrs ! you know, I am no vaunter, I ; 
 My scars can witness, dumb although they are, 
 That my report is just, and full of truth. 
 But. Eolt ; methinks, I do digress too much. 
 Citing my worthless praise : 0, pardon me ; 
 For when no triendsare by. men praise themselves. 
 
 Marc, Now is my tuin to speak: Rehoid thischiid. 
 [Pointi?},!^ t(i the I 'hil-l in the arms cf an Attendant. 
 Of this was Tamora deUvered ; 
 The issue of an irreligious Moor, 
 Chief arehilecl and plotter of these woes: 
 The villain is alive in Titus' house, 
 Danin'd as he is. to witness this is true. 
 Now judge, what cause had Titus to revenge 
 These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, 
 Or more than any living man could bear. 
 Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Ro- 
 mans 7 
 Have we done aught amiss I Show us wherein, 
 And. from the place where you behold us now, 
 The poor remainder of Andronici 
 Will, hand-in-hand, ail headlong cast us down, 
 And on the ragged stones heat Ibrth our brains, 
 
 And make a mutual closure of our house. 
 Speak, Romans, speak; and, if you say, we shall, 
 Lo, hand-in-hand, Lucius and I "will fall. 
 
 jEiiiil. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, 
 And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, 
 Lucius our emperor; for well 1 know. 
 The common voice do cry, it shall be so. 
 
 Rom. [Several epeak.] Lucius, all hail; R.ome"'s 
 royal emperor! 
 
 Lucius, ^-c. descend. 
 
 Marc. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house; 
 
 % [To an Attendant. 
 
 And hither hale tliat misbelieving Moor, 
 To be adjudg'd some direfuJ slaughtering death. 
 As punisimieiu for his most wicked hfe. 
 
 Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail; Rome's 
 gracious governor! 
 
 Luc. Tlianks. gentle Romans; may I govern so. 
 To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe I 
 But, gentle jieople, give me aim awhile, — 
 For nature puis me to a lieavy task ; — 
 Stand all aloof: — but, uncle, draw you near, 
 To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk: 
 O take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, 
 
 [Kisses TiTUS. 
 These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, 
 The hist true duties of thy noble son ! 
 
 Marc. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, 
 Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: 
 O, were the sum of these that I should pay 
 Countless and intinite. yet would I pay them. 
 
 Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and leam 
 of us 
 To melt in showers: Thy grandsirc lov'd thee 
 
 well : 
 Many a time he danced thee on his knee. 
 Sung" thee asleep, his loving breast thy piilow; 
 Many a matter hath he told to thee. 
 Meet, and agreeing with thine infancy; 
 In that res|)ect then, like a loving child, 
 Shed yet sonic small drops from thy tender spring. 
 Because kind nature doth require it so : 
 Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: 
 Bid him l;ireuell ; commit him to the giave; 
 Do hmi that kindness, and take leave of llim. 
 
 Boi/. O grandsire, grandsirc! even with all my 
 heart 
 Would I were dead, so you did live again ! — 
 
 lord, I cannot speak lo him for weeping ; 
 My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. 
 
 Enter Attendants, with AaroS 
 1 Rom. Yon sad Andronici, have donewilh woes; 
 Give sentence on this execrable wretch, 
 That hath been breeder of these dire eve:ds. 
 Luc. Set him breast-deep in eartii, and famish 
 him. 
 There let him stand, and rave and cry for food ; 
 If anv one relieves or pities him, 
 For tlie onbnce he dies. This is our doom : 
 Some stay, to see him fasten"d in the earth 
 Aar. 0, why should wrath be mute, ami (ury 
 dumb 1 
 
 1 am no baby, I. that, with base prayers, 
 I should rejieut the evils 1 have done; 
 Ten thousand, worse than ever yet I did, 
 Would I perJbrm, if I might have my will; 
 I Tone good deed in all my life I did, 
 
 1 do repent it from my verj' soul. 
 Lac. Some loving friends convey the emperor 
 heneo. 
 And give him buria! in his father'^ grave: 
 My father, and Lavinia, shall forthwith 
 Be closed in our household's monument. 
 As for that heinous tiger. Tamora, 
 No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds, 
 No mournful bell shail ring her burial; 
 But throw her forth to beasts, and birds of prey : 
 Her life was beast-Iikc, and devoid of pity; 
 And, being so, shall have like want ot pity. 
 See justice done to Aaron, that damned Moor, 
 By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: 
 Then, allerwards, to order well the state, 
 That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt 
 
 42 
 
PERICLES, 
 
 PEINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 ANTiocni-S, King 0/ Antioch. 
 Pehicles, Prince of Tyre. 
 
 HeLICANUS, ) .n r j ^^ 
 
 EsCA.NES, } ^""' ^'"*' "^ Tj-re. 
 SiMu.siDES, King of Pcntapolis. 
 Cleox, Gove7-nor of Th^r»\is. 
 Lysimachls, Governor (/Milylene. 
 Ceiumon, a Lord o/Ephesiis. 
 TuALiARD, a Lord (/Antioch. 
 Philemon, Servant to C'erimon. 
 Leonine, Servant to Dionyza. 
 MantiaU 
 
 A Pandar, and his Wife. 
 BoiLT, tkeir Servant. 
 Gowcr, as Chorus. 
 
 The Daughter fif Antiochus. 
 
 DioxYZA, Wife lu Cleon. 
 
 Thaisa, Daughter lu Simoiiidcs. 
 
 Madina, DauglUer to Pericles and Thaisa. 
 
 Lychorida, Nurse to Marina. 
 
 Diana. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen. Sailors, Pi- 
 rates, Fishermen, and Messengers, ^c. 
 
 SCENE, dispersedhj in various countries. 
 
 That the render may know through how many regions the scene of this drama is dispersed it is 
 necessary to observe that Antioch was the metropolis of Syria ; Tyre, a city of Phccnicia in Asia • 
 Tharsus, the metropolis of Cilicia, a country of Asia Minor; Mitylcne, the capital of Lesbos' an island' 
 in the iEgeau Sea ; and Ephesus, the capital of Ionia, a country o'f the Lesser Asia. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Enter Gower.i Before the Palace of Antioch. 
 
 To sing a song of old- was sung, 
 
 From ashes ancient Gower is come ; 
 
 Assuming man's infirmities, 
 
 To glad your ear, and please your eyes. 
 
 It hath been sung at festivals. 
 
 On ember-eves, and holy ales;' 
 
 And lords and ladies of their lives 
 
 Have read it for restoratives: 
 
 'Purpose to make men glorious ; 
 
 El quo antiqidus, eo melius. 
 
 If you, born in these latter times, 
 
 Wlien wit's more ripe, accept mv rhymes. 
 
 And that to hear an old man sing. 
 
 May to your wishes pleasure bring, 
 
 1 lile would wish, and that 1 might 
 
 Waste it for you, like taper-light. — 
 
 This city then, Antioch the great 
 
 Built up lor his chiefest seat : 
 
 'The fairest in all Syria; 
 
 (1 tell you what mine authors say;) 
 
 This king unto him took a pheere,' 
 
 Who died and lett a female heir. 
 
 So buxom, blithe, and full efface. 
 
 As heaven had lent her all h/s grace; 
 
 With whom the father liking took, 
 
 And her to incest did provoke: 
 
 Had father! to entice his own 
 
 To evil, should be done by none. 
 
 Hy custom, what they did begin, 
 
 Was, with long use, account' no sin 
 
 The beauty of this sinful dame 
 
 Made many princes thither frame, 
 
 ' Chorus, in the character of Gower. an nnrient English 
 poet, who has relateil tin. storv of this plav in his Om- 
 ftssio Jniavlis. a i. c. That of olii. » W hiisun-alcs, ic. 
 
 • Wife: the word signifies a mate or companion. 
 
 <' Accounte<l. 
 
 058 
 
 To seek her as a bed-fellow. 
 In marriage-pleasures play-fellow: 
 Which to prevent, he made a law, 
 (To keep her still, and men in awe,) 
 That whoso ask'd her for his wife, 
 His riddle told not, lost his life : 
 So for her many a wight did die, 
 As yon grim looks do testify.^ 
 What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye 
 I give, my cause who best can justify. " [Exit. 
 
 SCENE L— Antioch. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Antiochls, Pericles, and Attendants. 
 
 Ant. Young prince of Tyre, you have at large 
 receiv'd 
 The danger of the task you undertake. 
 
 Per. I have, Antiochus. and with a soul 
 Embolden'd with the glory of her praise. 
 Think death no hazard, in this enterprise. [Music. 
 
 Ant. Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, 
 For the embracements even of Jove himself; 
 At whose conception, (till Lucina reign'd,) 
 Nature this dowry gave to glad lier jiresence. 
 The senate-house of pl.anets all did sit, 
 To knit in her their best perfections. 
 
 Enter the Daughter (f Antiochus. 
 
 Per. Sec, where she comes, apparclPd like the 
 spring, 
 Graces her subjects, and her thoughts Ihc king 
 Of every virtue gives renown to men ! 
 Her Uice, the book of praises, where is read 
 Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence 
 Sorrow were e\er ras'd, and testy wrath 
 Could never be her mild companion. 
 
 " Pointing to the scene of the palace gate at Antioch, on 
 which the heads of those unfortunate wights were fixed. 
 
Act I. Scene I. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OP TYRE. 
 
 659 
 
 Te gods, that made me man, and sway in love, 
 
 That have infiamM desire in my breast, 
 
 To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, 
 
 Or die in the adventure, be my helps. 
 
 As I am son and servant to your will. 
 
 To compass such a boundless happiness! 
 
 AnI. Prince Pericles, 
 
 Per. That would be son to great Antioelnis. 
 
 Ant. Before thee stands this fair Hesperidcs, 
 With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; 
 For death-like dragons here atlright thee hard; - 
 lier face, hke heaven, enticeth thee to view 
 A countless glory, which desert must gain: 
 And wliich, without desert, because thine eye 
 Presumes to reach, all thy whole lieap must die. 
 Yon sometime famous princes, like thyself. 
 Drawn by report, advent'rous by desire. 
 Tell thee witli speechless tongues, and semblance 
 
 pale, 
 That, without covering, save yon field of stars, 
 They here stand martyrs, slaiii in Cuiiid's wars; 
 And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist. 
 For going on death's net, whom none resist. 
 
 Per, Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught 
 My frail mortality to know itself. 
 And by those fearful objects to prepare 
 This body, like to them, to what I must: 
 For death remember'd, should be like a mirror. 
 Who tells us, life's but breath ; to trust it, eiTor. 
 I'll make my will tlien; and as sick men do. 
 Who know the world, sec heaven, but feeling woe, 
 Gripe not at earthly joys, as erst they did; 
 So 1 bequeath a happy peace to you. 
 And all good men, as every prince should do ; 
 My riches to the earth, from whence they came ; 
 But my unspotted fire of love to you. 
 
 [Tu the Daughter of Antiochus. 
 Thus ready for the way of life or death, 
 1 wait the shari>est blow, Antiochus, 
 Scorning advice. 
 
 Ant. Read the conclusion, then ; 
 
 Which read, and not expounded, 'tis decreed. 
 As these before thee, thou thyself shalt bleed. 
 
 JJaugli. In all, save that,may'st thou prove pros- 
 perous ! 
 In all, save that, I wish thee happiness! 
 
 Per. Like a bold champion. 1 assume the lists. 
 Nor a.sk advice of any other tliought 
 But lUithfuiness and courage. 
 
 [He reads the Riddle.] 
 I atn no viper, yet I feed 
 On inol tier's fli-sli, U'fikli did me tn-eed: 
 Isou^ht (t hushdnd. in icfiick tnhnr, 
 I found tlint kindnesii in o fallur. 
 //t'.s fiittitr. son. Olid tinslmnd otild, 
 I multier, icijc. and i/et tits ctiild. 
 How ttieif only be. and yet in two. 
 As you wilt live, resolve it you. 
 
 Sharp physic is the last : but O you powers ! 
 That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, 
 Why cloud they not their sights perpetually. 
 If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? 
 Fair glass of light, I lov'd you, and could still, 
 
 [Takes lioldof tlie Hand of ttie Princess. 
 Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill : 
 But I must tell you,— now, my thoughts revolt; 
 For he's no man on whom pertections wait. 
 That, faiowing sin within, will touch the gale. 
 "V'ou're a fair viol, and your sense the strings: 
 Who. linger'd to nrake inaji his lawful music. 
 Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to 
 hearken ; 
 
 But, being play'd upon before your time. 
 
 Hell only danccth at so harsh a chime: 
 Good sooth, I care not for you. 
 Ant. Prince Pericles, touch not. upon thy life. 
 
 For that's an article within our law. 
 
 As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expir'd ; 
 
 Either expound now, or receive your sentence. 
 Per. Great king. 
 
 Few love to hear the sins they love to act; 
 
 'Twould 'braid yourself too near for me to tell it. 
 
 Who has a book of all that monarchs do. 
 
 He's more secure to keep it shut, than shown; 
 
 For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind, 
 
 Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself; 
 
 And yet the end of all is bought thus dear. 
 
 The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear: 
 
 To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole 
 
 casts 
 Cop'd' hills towards heaven, to tell, the earth is 
 
 wrong'd 
 By man's opipression, and the poor worm doth 
 
 die tbr't. 
 Kings are earth's gods : in vice their law's their wiU ; 
 And if Jove stray, who dares say, Jove doth ill ! 
 It is enough youknow ; and it is fit. 
 What being more Icnowngrows worse, tosmotlicrit. 
 All love the womb that their first beings bred. 
 Then give my tongue like leave to love my head. 
 AnI. Heaven, that I had thy head! he has Ibund 
 
 the meaning ; — 
 But I will srloze^ with him. [Aside.] Young prince 
 
 of TjTC, 
 
 Though, by the tenor of our strict edict. 
 Your exposition misinterpreting, 
 We might proceed to cancel of vourdaj's;' 
 Y'et hope, succeeding from so fair a tree 
 As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise : 
 Forty days longer we do. respite you ; 
 If l)y which time our secret oe undone. 
 This mercy shows, we'll joy in such a son : 
 And until then your entertain shall be. 
 As doth befit our honor, and your worth. 
 
 [Ex-eunt AsTux'uus, liis Daughter, and 
 Attendant.s. 
 Per. How courtesy would seem' to cover sin ! 
 Wlieii what is done is like a hypocrite. 
 The which is good in nothingbut in sight. 
 If it be true that I interpret liiisc. 
 Then were it certain, you were not so bad. 
 As with (bul incest to abuse your soul ; 
 Where' now you're both a father and a son, 
 Bv your untimely claspings w'ith your child ; 
 (Which pleasure fits a husband, not a lather;) 
 And slie an eater of her mother's llesh, 
 Bv the defiling of her parent's bed ; 
 And both like scrpenls are, who though they feed 
 On sweetest tlowers, yet they poison breed. 
 Antioch, farewell! lor wisdom sees, those men 
 Blush not in actions blacker than the night, 
 Will shun no course to keep them from the light, 
 (hie sin. I know, another doth provoke; 
 Murder's as near to lust, as fiame to smoke. 
 Poison and treason are the hands of sin. 
 Ay, and the targets to put olf the sliaine : 
 Then, lest my lili; be crojip'd to keep you clear. 
 By night I'll shun the danger which I fear. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Axnocnrs. 
 Ant. He hath found the meaning, for the which 
 we mean 
 To have his head. 
 
 He must not live to trumpet forth my infamj', 
 Nor tell the world, Antioclius doth sin 
 In such a loathed manner: 
 And therefore instantly this prince must die; 
 For by his liall my honor must keep high. 
 Who attends on us there ! 
 
 Enter Tiialiard. 
 Ttial. Doth your highness call' 
 
 Ant. Thaliard, you're of our chamber, and our 
 mind 
 Partakes her private actions to your secresy; 
 And for your faithfulness we will advance yon. 
 Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold; 
 We hate tlie prince of Tyre, and thou must kill 
 
 him; 
 It fits thee not to ask the reason why, 
 Beca use we bid it. Say, is it done 1 
 
 Tlinl. My lord, 
 
 'Tis done. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Ant. Enough; 
 Lest your breath cool yourself, telling your haste. 
 Mess. My lord, prince Pericles is lied. [Exit. 
 Ant. As thou 
 
 Wilt live, fly after: and, as an arrow, shot 
 From a well-experienc'd archer, hits the mark 
 His eye doth level at, so ne'er return, 
 Unless thou .say. Prince Pericles is dead, 
 
 TItal. My lord, if I 
 Can get him once within my pistol's length, 
 I'll make him sure : so farewell to your highness. 
 
 [Exit. 
 ' Rising to the top or head. » Flatter, insiuuate. 
 
 I 9 To the destruction of your life. ' Whereas. 
 
860 
 
 PEKICLES, PKINCE OF TYRE. Act I. Scene III. 
 
 Atit. Th.iliard, adieu! till Pericles be dead. 
 My heart can lend no succor to my head. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Tyre. A Room in the Pakice. 
 Enter Pericles. Helicanus, rmd otfier Lords. 
 Pe?: Let none disturb us: Wliy this change of 
 
 thoughts'! 
 The sad companion, diill-ev'd melanchol)', 
 By me so used a guest is. riot an liour, 
 III the day's priorious walk, or peaceful ni^ht, 
 (The tom'b where grief should sleep,) can breed me 
 
 quiet! 
 Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine cj'cs 
 
 slnin them. 
 And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch, 
 Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here: 
 Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits. 
 Nor yet the other's distance comtbrtme. 
 Then it is thus: the passions of the mind. 
 That have their first conception by mis-dread, 
 Have after-nourishment and life liy care; 
 And what was first but fear what inight be done, 
 Grows elder now, and cares it be not done. 
 And so with me; — the great Antiochns 
 ("Gainst whom I am too little to contend. 
 Since he's so great, can make his will his act) 
 Will think rae speaking, though I swear to silence; 
 Nor boots it me to say, I honor him, 
 If.he suspect I may dishonor him : 
 And what may make him blush in being laiown, 
 He'll stop the course by which it misrht be known: 
 With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land. 
 And with the oslent of war will look so huge, 
 .\m.azement shall drive courage from the state; 
 Our men be vanquish'd, ere they do resist. 
 And .subjects punish'd that ne'e'r thought offence : 
 Which care of them, not pity of mj'self, 
 (Who am no more but as the tops of tree's. 
 Which fence the roots they grow by, and defend 
 
 them,) 
 Makes both my body pine, and soul to languish, 
 jVnd punish that before, that he would punish. 
 
 1 Lord. Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast ! 
 
 2 Lorrf. And keep your mind, till you return to us, 
 Peaceful and comfortable ! 
 
 Het. Peace, peace, my lords, and give experience 
 tongue. 
 They do abuse the king, that flatter him : 
 For flattery is the bellows blows up sin ; 
 The thing the which is flattcr'd, but a spark. 
 To whicii that breath gives heat and stronger glow- 
 ing; 
 Whereas reproof, obedient, and in order. 
 Kits kings, as they are men, for they may err. 
 When signior Sooth here doe.s proclaim'a peace, 
 He Hatters you, makes war upon your life: 
 Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; 
 I cannot be much lower than my knees. 
 
 Per. All leave us else : but let your cares o'erlook 
 W hat shipping, and what lading's in our haven. 
 And then return to us. [Exeunt Lovd».] Helicanus, 
 
 thou 
 Kast moved us : what scest thou in our looks ? 
 
 Hel. An angry brow, dread lord. 
 
 Per. If there be such a dart in princes' frowns, 
 How durst thy tongue move anger to our fiice? 
 
 JJel. How dare the plants look up to heaven, 
 from whence 
 They have their nourishment? 
 
 Pf>: Thou kmow'st I liave power 
 
 To take thy life. 
 
 Met. [K/ieeling.] I have ground tlie axe myself; 
 Do you but strike the blow. 
 ^.-''^'■- . , Rise, pr'ythec, rise; 
 
 .■sit down, sit down; thou art no flatterer: 
 I thank thee for it; and high heaven forbid. 
 That kinLTs should Ictthcirearsheartheirfaulfshid? 
 I It counsellor, and servant for a prince. 
 Who liy thy wisdom mak'st a prince thy servant, 
 \Vhat wouldEt thou liave me do ! 
 
 ^'f'' . With patience bear 
 
 S>uch griefs as you do lay upon yourself. 
 „.l'"'- T'.'°" speak'sf like a physician, Helicanus; 
 \v ho mnnster'st a potion unto me, 
 Tliat thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself. 
 Attend me. then : I went to Autioch, 
 Where, as thou know'st. against the face of death 
 J sought the purchase of a glorious beauty, 
 I'rom whence an issue I might propagate) 
 
 Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys. 
 Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder, 
 The rest, (hark in thine ear,) as black as incest; 
 Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father 
 Scem'd not to strike, but smooth; but thou laiow'st 
 
 this, 
 'Tis time to fear, when tyrants seem to Iciss. 
 Which fear so grew in nie. I hither fled, 
 Under the covering of a careful night, 
 Who seem'd my good protector; and being here. 
 Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. 
 I know him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears 
 Decrease not, but grow faster"than their years: 
 And should he doubt it. (as no doubt he doth,) 
 That I should open to the listening air. 
 How many worthy princes' bloods were shed. 
 To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, — 
 To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms. 
 And make pretence of wrong that I h.ave done him; 
 When all, for mine, if I may call't ofti?nce. 
 Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence : 
 Which love to all (of which thyself art one. 
 
 Who now reprov'st me for it) 
 
 llel. Alas, sir! 
 
 Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from 
 my cheeks. 
 Musings iiito my mind, a thousand doubts 
 How I might stiip this tempest, ere it came; 
 And finding little comfort to relieve them. 
 1 thought it princely charity to grieve tliem. 
 Jicl. Well, my lord, since you have given me 
 leave to speak. 
 Freely I'll speak. Antiochus you fear. 
 And justly loo, I think, you fear the tyrant, 
 Wfio either by public war, or private treason, 
 Will take away your life. 
 Therefore, my'lbrd, go travel for a while, 
 Till that his rage and auger be forgot. 
 Or Deslinies do cut his thread of life. 
 Your rule direct to any ; if to me. 
 Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be. 
 
 Per I do not doubt lliy linth ; 
 But should^ he wrong my liberties iii absence — 
 
 Jlet. We'll mingle bloods together in the earth, 
 From whence we had our being and our birth. 
 Per. Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to 
 Tharsus 
 Intend mv travel, where I'll hear from thee ; 
 And by whose letters I'll dispose myself 
 The care I had and have of subjects' good. 
 On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can hcarit. 
 1 II take thy word for fiiith, not ask thine oath ; 
 Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack both: 
 But in our orbs-! we'll live .so round and sale. 
 That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,^ 
 Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. 
 
 [K.veunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Tyre. An Ante-ctuimber in llie 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Tiialiard. 
 
 Tlial. So, this is Tyre, and this is the court. 
 Here must I kill king Pericles; and, if 1 do not I 
 am sure to be hanged at home: 'lis dangerous.— 
 Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and l)ad 
 good discretion, that being bid to ask what he would 
 of the king, desired he inight know none of his 
 secrets. Now do I see he had some reason for it : 
 lor if a king bid a man be a villain, he is bound by 
 the indenture of Ins oath to be one.— Hush, here 
 come the lords of Tyre. 
 
 Enter Helicanl's, Escaxes, and ottier Lords. 
 
 Hel. You shall not need, my fellow-peers of Tvie, 
 Further to question of your king's departure. " 
 His seai'd commission, left in trust wit/i me. 
 Doth speak sufhcicntly, he's gone to travel. 
 
 Thril. How! the king gone? [Aside. 
 
 i/W. 1 f further yet you will be satisfied, 
 Why, as it were, uiiliccns'd of your loves. 
 He would depart, I'll give some hght unto you. 
 Bi'ing at Aniioch 
 
 'Pl^<'l. What from Antioch ? [Aside. 
 
 Hel. Royal Antiochus (on what cause I know 
 not) 
 Took some displeasure at him; at least he judg'd 
 
 so ; 
 And doubting lest that he had err'd or sipn'd, 
 To show his sorrow, would correct himself; 
 5 In our dilTerent spb-.'i-es. 3 Otercome. 
 
Act II. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRI 
 
 661 
 
 So puts himself unto the shipm^in's toil, 
 
 With whom cacli minute tJireatens lile or do;ith. 
 
 Thai. Well, I perceive [Aside, 
 
 I shall not be lianj^'d now, although I would ; 
 But since he's gone, tiic king it sure must please, 
 He 'sciip'd the land, lo perish on the seat;. — 
 But \'i\ present me. Peace to the lords ofTyre ! 
 
 Uel. LordThaliard from Antiochus is welcome. 
 
 That. From liim I come 
 With message unto princely Pericles: 
 But, since my landing, as 1 iiave understood 
 Your lord has took hnnsell'to unknown travels, 
 My message must return from whence it came. 
 
 HeL We have no reason to desire it, since 
 Commended to our master, not to us: 
 Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire. — 
 As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEXE IV. — Tarsus. A Room in ike Governor's 
 House. 
 
 Eiifer Cleon, Dtonyza, and Attendants. 
 
 Cle. My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, 
 And. by relating tales of others' grief-;. 
 See if 'twill teach us to forget our own I 
 
 UJio. That were to blow at fire, in hope to 
 quench it ; 
 For who digs liills because they do aspire, 
 Tlnows down one mountain, to cast up a higher. 
 O my distressed lord, even such our griels ; 
 Here they're but felt, and seen with mistful eyes, 
 But like to groves, being lopp'd, they Jiiglier rise. 
 
 Cle. Dionyza, 
 Who wanteth lood. and will not say he wants it, 
 Or can conceal his hunger, till he lamish ] 
 Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep our woes 
 Hito the air : our eyes do weep, till lungs 
 FctcJi breath that may proclaim Ihem louder; 
 
 that. 
 If heaven slumber, while their creatures want, 
 They may awake their helps to comfort them. 
 I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years. 
 And. wanting breath to speak, help me vvitii tears! 
 
 JJlo. I'll do mj' best, sir. 
 
 Cle. ThisTharsus, o'er which I have government, 
 (A city, on whom plenty held full hand,) 
 For riches, strew'd herself even in the streets ; 
 Whose towers bore heads so liigh, they kiss-d the 
 
 clouds, 
 And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonderM at; 
 Whose men and dames so jetted' and adorn'd, 
 Like one another's glass to trim them by: 
 Thfiir tables were stor'd full, to glad the siglit, 
 And not so much to feed on, as delight; 
 All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great, 
 Tiie name of heij) grew odious to repeat. 
 
 Dio. O, 'tis loo true. 
 
 Cle. But see wliat heaven can do! By this our 
 change. 
 These moullis. whom but of late, earth, sea, and air, 
 Were all too little to content and please, 
 Although they gave liieir creatures in abundance, 
 As houses are delil*d Jbr want of use, 
 They are now starv'd lor want of exercise: 
 Those palates, who, not yet two summers younger, 
 Must have inventions to delight the taste. 
 Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it ; 
 Those mothers who, to nousle^ up their babes, 
 Thought naught too curious, are ready now 
 To eat those little darlings whom Ihcy lovM, 
 So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife 
 
 Draw lots, who tirst sliall die to lengthen hfe : 
 Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping ; 
 Here many sink, yet those which see them (all 
 Have scarce strength leit to give them burial. 
 Is not tins true 1 
 DU). Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it, 
 Cle. O, let tliDse cities, that of Plenty's cup 
 And her prosjicrities so largely taste, 
 With their sujiertluous riots, iiear these tears I 
 The misery of Tharsus may be theirs. 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lrrd. Where's the lord governor! 
 
 Cle. Here. 
 Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st, in 
 
 haste, 
 For comtitrt is too far for us to expect. 
 
 Lord. We have descried, upon our neighboring 
 shore, 
 A pi'trtly sail of ships make hithcrward. 
 
 etc. 1 thought as much. 
 One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir, 
 That may succeed as his inheritor; 
 And so in ours: some neighboring nation, 
 Taking advantage of our miserj", 
 Hatli stulf d these hollow vessels with their power, 
 To beat us down, the which are down already; 
 And make a conquest of unhappy me, 
 Whereas no glory's got to overcome. 
 
 Lord. That's the least fear: for, by the semblance 
 Of their white flags display'd they'bring us peace, 
 And come to us as favorers, not as foes. 
 
 Cle. Thouspeak'st likehtm's untutor'd to repeat; 
 Wiio maUes the lairest show, means most deceit. 
 But brnig they what they will, what need we fearl 
 The ground's the low'st.and we are halt-way there. 
 Go tell their general, we attend him here. 
 To know for what he comes, and wliencc lie comes, 
 And what he craves. 
 
 Jj>rd. I go, my lord. [^Exit. 
 
 Cle. Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist;' 
 If wars, we arc unable to resist. 
 
 Enter Pericles, with Attendants. 
 
 Per. Lord governor, for so we hear you are, 
 Let not our sliips and nuuiber of our men. 
 Be, like a lieacon tird, to amaze your eyes. 
 We have heard your mi;*eries as"lar as Tyre, 
 And seen the desolation of your streets: 
 Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, 
 Bui lo relieve them of their heavy load ; 
 And these our ships you liappily may think 
 Are. like the Trojan horse, war-stuIlM within, 
 With bloody views, expecting overthrow. 
 Are stored with corn, to make your needy bread. 
 And give them liie, who are hunger-starv'd, iialf 
 dead. 
 
 All. The gods of Greece protect you ! 
 Anfl we'll pray for you. 
 
 Per. Rise, T pray you, rise ; 
 
 We do not look for reverence, but tor love, 
 And harborage for ourself, our ships, and men 
 
 Cle. The which when any shall not gratify, 
 Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought. 
 Be It our wiv-v^, our children, or ourselves. 
 The curse of heaven and men succeed their cvu.s ! 
 Till when. (the which, 1 liope. shall ne'er be seen,) 
 Your grace is welcome to our town and us. 
 
 Per. Which welcome we'll accept; feast here 
 a while. 
 Until our stars that frov»'n,lend us a smile. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Enter Gowcr. 
 Gnw. Here have you seen a mighty king 
 His child, I wis,6 to incest bring; 
 A better prince, and benign lord. 
 Prove awful both in deed and word. 
 Be (juiet then, as men should be, 
 Till he liath pass'd necessity. 
 I'll show you those in trouljle's reign, 
 
 < Til jef is to strut, to ivalk proudly. 
 
 • Nurstf fondly. s Know. 
 
 Losing a mite, a mountain gain. 
 
 The good in conversation*^ 
 
 (To wliom I give my benizon) 
 
 Is still at Tharsus, where each man 
 
 Thinks all is writhe spoken can: 
 
 And, to remember what he does, 
 
 Gild his statue glorious: 
 
 But tidings to the contrary 
 
 A re bro ugh t you r eyes ; what need speak 1 1 
 
 1 1 If ho stands on peace. 
 
 8 i.e. Conduct, behavior 
 
662 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Dumb Show. Enter at one Door, Pericles, ^o/fei?!^ 
 xoiili C'LEON ; all the Train with, them. Enter, at 
 another Door, a Gentleman, with a Letter to 
 PEnicLES ; Pericles shxiws the Letter to Cleon ; 
 then gives the Messenger a reward.and tinigtits 
 him. Exeunt Pericles, Cleon, ^-c, severally. 
 
 Goto. Good Helicanc hath staid at home, 
 Not to eat honey, like a drone, 
 From others' latjors; forth lie strive 
 To killcn bad, keep good alive; 
 And to fulfil his prince' desire. 
 Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: 
 How Thaliard came full bent with sin, 
 And liid intent, to murder him ; 
 And that in Tharsus was not best 
 Longer lor him to make his rest: 
 He knowing so, put lorth to seas. 
 Where when men been, there's seldom ease; 
 For now the wind begins to blow; 
 Thunder above, and deeps belnw. 
 Make such unquiet, that the ship 
 Should house him safe, is wreck'd and spUt; 
 And he, good prince, having all lost, 
 liy waves from coast to coast is tost: 
 All perishen of man, of pelf, 
 Ne aught escapen but himself; 
 Till fortune, tired with doing bad. 
 Threw him ashore, to give him glad: 
 And here he comes: what shall be next, 
 Pardon old Gower: this lung's tlie text. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE I.— Pentapolis. An open Place liy ttie 
 Seaside. 
 Enter Pericles, luet. 
 Per. Yet cease your ire, ye angry starsof heaven ! 
 Wind, rain, antl thunder, remember, earthly man 
 Is but a substance tliat must yield to you; 
 And I, as tits my uature, do obey you ; 
 Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, 
 Wasii'd me from shore to shore, and lelt me breath 
 Nothing to think on, but ensuing death ; 
 Let it suffice the greatness of your powers, 
 To have bereft a prince of all bis fortunes; 
 And liaving thrown him liom your wat'ry grave, 
 Here to have death in peace, is all he'll crave. 
 
 Enter three Fishermen. 
 
 1 Fiih. What, ho, Pilcbe ! 
 
 2 Fi.'<h. Ho ! come, and bring away the nets. 
 1 Fisli. What, I'atch-breech,! say'! 
 
 3 Fi^h. What say you, master ] 
 
 1 Fish. Look how thou stirrest now! come away, 
 or I'll It^tch thee with a wannion. 
 
 3 Fiih. 'Faith, master, 1 am thinking of the poor 
 men that were cast away bclbre us. even now. 
 
 1 Fi^h. Alas. jioor souls, it grieved my heart to 
 hear what pitiful cries they made to us, to help them, 
 when, well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves. 
 
 3 Fiik. Nay. maslcr, said not I as miicli, when 
 I saw the porpus, how he bounced and tumbled ! 
 Ihoy say, they are half fish, half flesh ; a pl.igue on 
 them, they ne'er come, but I took to be washed. 
 I\Iaster, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. 
 
 1 Fish. Why, as men do a-land : the great ones 
 cat up the little ones: I can compare our rich mi- 
 sers to nothing so filly as to a whale; 'a plays and 
 tumbles, driving thepoor liy belbre him, and at 
 last devours them all at a inouthliil. Such whales 
 have I heard on a' the land, who never leave ga]iing, 
 till Ihcy've swallow'd the whole parish, churcii, 
 steeple, bells, and all. 
 
 Per. A pretty moral. 
 
 3 Fish. IJuf, master, if I had been the sexton, I 
 would have been that day in the belfry. 
 
 2 Fiih. Why, man ^ 
 
 3 Fish. Becausi^ he should have swallowed me 
 too: and when 1 had been in his belly. I would 
 have kept sucli a jangling of the bells, that he 
 should never have lejt. till he cast bells, steeple, 
 church, anil parish, up again. But if the good 
 king SiniMiiides wore of my mind- 
 
 Per. Simonides ! 
 
 3 Fi.ih. We would purge the land of these drones, 
 that rob the bei- of her iioney. 
 
 Per. How from the linnj' subject of the sea 
 These fislicrs tell the infir'milies of men ; 
 And fVom their wat'iy emiiirc recollect 
 All that may men aiijiroAe. or men delect! 
 ^cace be to your labor, honest hshermen. 
 
 2 Fish. Honest! good fellow, what's that? if it 
 be a day fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, 
 and nobody will look alter it. 
 
 Per. Nay, see, the sea hath cast upon your coast — 
 
 2 I-^ish. What a drunken knave was the sea, to 
 cast thee in our way ! 
 
 Per. A man whom both the waters and the wind, 
 In that vast tennis-court, hath made the ball 
 J'or them to play upon, entreats you pity him; 
 He asks of you, that never used to beg. 
 
 1 Fish. No, friend, cannot you beg] here's them 
 in our country of Greece, gets more with begging, 
 than we can do with working. 
 
 2 Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes then'! 
 Per. I never practised it. 
 
 2 Fish. Nay, then thou wilt starve sure ; for 
 here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou 
 canst fish for't. 
 
 Per. Wliat I have been, I have forgot to know; 
 But what I am, want teaches me to think on ; 
 A man shrunk up with cold: my veins are chill, 
 And have no more of life, than may suffice 
 To give my tongue that heat, to ask your help; 
 Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead. 
 For I am a man, pray see me buried. 
 
 1 Fish. Die, quoth-a! Now gods forbid! I have 
 a gown here: come, put it on; keep thee warm. 
 Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou 
 Shalt go home, and we'll have flesh fiir holidays, 
 fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and 
 tlap-jacks,!i and thou shall be welcome. 
 
 Per. I thank you, sir. 
 
 2 Fish. Hark you, my friend, you said you could 
 not beg. 
 
 Per. I did but cr,ive. 
 
 2 Fish. But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, 
 and so I shall 'scape whipping. 
 
 Per. Why, are all your beggars whipped, then 7 
 
 2 Fish. O, not all, my fi-iend, not all ; for if all 
 your beggars were wbipped, 1 would wish no bet- 
 ter office, than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go 
 draw up the net. [Exeunt two if the Fishermen. 
 
 I'cr. How well this honest mirth becomes tiicir 
 labor! 
 
 1 Fish. Hark you, sir; do you know where you 
 are I 
 
 Per. Not well. 
 
 1 Fish. Why, I'll tell you : this is called Penta- 
 polis, and our king, the good Simonides. 
 
 Per. The good king Simonides, do you call him? 
 
 I Fiih. Ay, sir; and he deserves to be so called, 
 for his peaceable reign, and good government. 
 
 Per. He is a happy king, since from his subjects 
 He gains the name of good, by his governniem. 
 How far is his court distant liom this shore ! 
 
 1 Fish. Marry, sir, iialf a day's journey ; and I'll 
 tell you, he hath a lair daughter, and to-morrow is 
 her birth-day; and there are princes and knights 
 come from all parts of the world, to just and tour- 
 ney for her love. 
 
 Per. Did but my fortunes equal my desires, 
 I'd wish to make one there. 
 
 1 FLih. 0, sir, tilings must be as they may; and 
 what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for— 
 his wife's soul. 
 
 Re-enter the two Fishermen, drawing up a N,:t. 
 
 2 Fiik. Help, master, help ; here's a fish hangs 
 in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twMl 
 hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, 
 and 'tis turned to a rusty armor. 
 
 Per. An armor, friends ! I pray you, let me sec it. 
 Thanks, fortune, yet, that after all my crosses, 
 Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself; ' 
 And, though it was mine own, part of mine heritage, 
 Wfiich my dead father did be(picath to me. 
 With this strict charge, (even as he left his life,) 
 Keip it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield 
 'Twiit nie and death, [And pointed to this brace:') 
 For that it sav^d oie, 1,'ecji it ; in tike necessity. 
 Which gods ]irotect t lire from! it mait dej'end ihcc. 
 It kept where 1 kejit. I s"o dearly lov'il it; 
 Till the rough seas, that spare iiot any man. 
 Took it in rage, though, calm'd, they give't again: 
 I thank thee fiir't; my shipwreck's now no ill, 
 Since I liave here my fatlier's gift by will. 
 
 1 Fisli. AV'hat mean yon, sir I 
 
 Per. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat o( 
 worlli, 
 » r.iQ-cakes. * Armor fbr the arm. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 C63 
 
 For it was sometime target to a king; 
 I know it by this mark. He lov'd me dearly, 
 And for his sake, I wish the having of it ; 
 And that you'd guide me to your sovereign's court, 
 Where with't I may appear a gentleman; 
 And if tliat ever my low fortunes bettor, 
 I'll pay your bounties; till then, rest your debtor. 
 1 Fish. Why, wilt thou tourney lor the lady 1 
 Fer. I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms. 
 
 1 Fish. Why, do ye take it, and the gods give 
 thee good on't ! 
 
 2 Futh. Ay, but hark you, my friend: twas we 
 that made up thisgarmentthrough the roughseams 
 of the waters ; there are certain condolements, cer- 
 tain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remem- 
 ber from whence you had it. 
 
 Fcr. Believe't, I will. 
 Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel; 
 And spite of all the rupture of tlie sea, 
 This jewel liolds his bidding- on my arm ; 
 Unto thy value will I mount myself 
 Upon a courser, whose delightful steps 
 SItall make the gazer joy to see him tread. — 
 Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided 
 Of a pair of bascs.^ 
 
 2 Fiih. We'll sure provide : thou shalt have my 
 best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll bring thoe 
 to the cotirt m>self. 
 
 Per. Then honor be but a goal to my will ; 
 This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt' 
 
 SCENE U.—Tke same. A Public Way, or Plat- 
 form, leailing to the Lists. A Poriliim by the 
 side of it, fur the reception of the King, Princess, 
 Lords, ,5c. 
 
 Enter SraoNiDES, Thaisa, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 .Sim. Are the knighl-s ready to begin the triumph? 
 
 1 Lorit. They are, my liege ; 
 And stay your coming to present themselves. 
 
 Sim. Return thein,-* we are ready; and our 
 daughter. 
 In honor of whose birth these triumphs are, 
 .Sits here, like beauty's child, wiioin nature gat 
 For me to see, and seeing, wonder at. 
 
 [ Exit a Lord. 
 
 Th^i. It pleaseth you, my father, to express 
 My commendations great, whose merit's less. 
 
 Sint. 'Tis fit it should be so ; iiir princes are 
 A model, which heaven makes like to itself: 
 As jewels lose their glory, if neglected. 
 So princes their renown, if not resjiected. 
 'Tis now your honor, daughter, to explain 
 The labor of each knight, in his device. 
 
 Thui. Which, to preserve mine honor, I'll per- 
 form. 
 Enter a Knight; he passes over the Stage, and his 
 Squice presents his Shield to the I'rincess. 
 
 Sim. Who is the first that doth prefer himself? 
 
 Thai. A knight of Sparta, my reiiouned liilher; 
 And the device he bears upon his shield, 
 Is a black ^'l^thiop, reaching at the sun; 
 The word. Lux tua-i-ita mihi. 
 
 Sim. He loves you well, tliat holds his life of you. 
 {The second Knight passes. 
 Who is the second, that presents himself? 
 
 Tliai. A prince of Jlacedon, my royal father; 
 And the.devjcc lie bears upon his shield 
 Is an arm'd knight, that's conquer'd by a lady: 
 The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu per du i:ura que 
 perfuer(:a.^ [ The third Knight passes. 
 
 Sim. And what's the tliird ? 
 
 Thai. The third, of Antioch ; 
 
 And his device, a wreath of chivalry; 
 The word. Me pompae provexit apex. 
 
 [ The fourth Knight passes. 
 
 Sim. What is the fourth ! 
 
 TAaJ. Aburninglorch,that'sturned upside down: 
 The word. Quod me atit, me extinguit. 
 
 Sim. Which shows that beauty hath his power 
 and will, 
 Which can as well inflame, as it can kill. 
 
 [ The fifth Knight passes. 
 
 Thai. The fifth, a hand environed with clouds; 
 Holding out gold, that's by the touchstone tried: 
 The motto thus, Sic spectanda fiies. 
 
 a Kee])ing. 3 A kind of loose breeches. 
 
 * i. e Iteturn fbem notice. 
 
 • i. €. More by sweetness than hy force. 
 
 [The sixth Knight passes. 
 
 Sim. And what's the sixth and last, which the 
 knight himself 
 With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd ? 
 
 Thai. He seems a stranger; but his present is 
 A withor'd branch, that's only green at top; 
 The motto, //; hue spe vivo. 
 
 Sim. A pretty moral; 
 From the dejected state wherein he is. 
 He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. 
 
 1 Lord. He had need mean better tlian his out- 
 
 ward show 
 Can any way speak in his just commend; 
 For, by his rusty outside, he appears 
 To have practis'd more the whipstock, than the 
 
 lance. 
 
 2 Lord. He well may be a stranger, for he comes 
 To an honor'd triumph, strangely furnished. 
 
 3 Lord. And on set purpose let his armor rust, 
 Until this day, to scour it in the dust. 
 
 Sim. Opinion's but a loot, that makes us scan 
 The outward habit by the inward man. 
 Hut stay, the knights arc coming ; we'll withdraw 
 Into the gallery. [Exeunt. 
 
 [Great shouts; and all cry, The mean knight ! 
 
 SCENE Ul.—Tlie same. A Hall of Slate.— A 
 Banquet prepared. 
 
 Enter Simoxides, Thaisa. Lords, Knights, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Sim. Knights, 
 To say }'ou are welcome, were superlluous. 
 To place upon the volume of j'our deeds, 
 As in a title-page, your worth in arms. 
 Were more than j ou expect, or more than's fit 
 Since every worth jii show commends itself. 
 Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a least: 
 You are my guests. 
 
 Tluii. But you, my knight and guest, 
 
 To whom this wreath of victory 1 give. 
 And crown you king of this day's linpiiincss. 
 
 Per. 'Tis more by liirlune, lady, than by merit, 
 
 Sim, Call it by what you will, tile day is yours; 
 And here, I hope, is none that envies it. 
 In framing artists, art hath tlius decreed. 
 To make some good, but others to exceed; 
 And you're her labor'd scholar. Come, queen o 
 
 the feast, 
 (For, daughter, so you are.) here take your place: 
 Alarshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. 
 
 Knights. We are honor'd much by good Simo- 
 nides. 
 
 Sim. Your presence glads our dajs; h.onor we 
 love. 
 For who hales honor, hates the gods above. 
 
 Marsh. Sir, yond's your place. 
 
 Per. Some other is more fit. 
 
 1 Knight. Contend not, sir; for we are gentle- 
 men. 
 That neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, 
 Envy the great, nor do the low despise. 
 
 Per. You arc right courteous knighls. 
 
 Sim. Sit, sit, gir; sit. 
 
 Per. By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, 
 These cales resist nie.i' she not thought upon. 
 
 Thai. By Juno, that is queen 
 Of marriage, all the viands that I eat 
 Do seem unsavory, wishing him my meat; 
 Sure he's a gallant gentleman. 
 
 Sim. He's but 
 
 A country gentleman ; 
 
 He has done no more than other knights have done, 
 Broken a stall', or so ; so let it pass. 
 
 Tluii. To me he seems like diamond to glass. 
 
 Per. Yon king's to me, like to my father's pic- 
 ture, 
 Which tells me, in that glory once he was; 
 Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne. 
 And he the sun, tor them to reverence. 
 None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights, 
 Did vail their crowns to his supremacy; 
 Where now his son's a glow-worm in the night, 
 The which hath tire in darkness, none in light; 
 Whereby I see that time's the king of men. 
 For he's their parent, and he is their grave. 
 And gives them what he will, not what they crave. 
 
 Sim. What, are you merry, knights ! 
 
 « i. e. These delicacies go against my stomach. 
 
664 
 
 PERICLES, PEINCE OF TYRE. Act II. Scene V. 
 
 i drunk to you. 
 
 1 Knight. \Vho can be other, in this royal pre- 
 sence \ 
 Sim. Here, with a cup that's stor'd unto the brim, 
 (As you do love, till to your mistress' lips,) 
 VVe drinlithis healtli to you. 
 Knights. We thank your grace. 
 
 iiini. Yet pause a while ; 
 Yon kuiglit, metliinks, doth sit too melancholy, 
 As if tlie entertainment in our court 
 Had not a show niiglit countervail his worth. 
 Note it not you, Thaisa ! 
 
 Thai. Wliat is it 
 
 To me, my father 1 
 
 Sim. 0, attend, my daughter; 
 
 Princes, in this, should live like gods above, 
 Wlio li-eely give to every one that comes 
 To honor them ; and prniccs, not doing so. 
 Are like to gnats, which make a sound, but kill'd 
 Are wonder'd at. 
 
 Therefore to make's entrance more sweet, here say, 
 We drink this standing bowl of wine to him. 
 
 Thai. Alas, my lather, it befits not me 
 Unto a stranger laiigiit to be so bold ; 
 He may my proller take for an olli-nce, 
 Since men tal;e women's gifts lor impudence. 
 
 Sim. How ! 
 Do as I bid 5'ou,.or you'll move me else. 
 Thai. Now, by the gods, he could not please me 
 better. [Aside. 
 
 Sim. And further tell him we desire to knovi', 
 If whence he is, his name and parentage. 
 Thai. The king, my father, sir, lias drunl 
 Per. 1 tliank Inm. 
 Thai. Wishing it so much blood unto your life. 
 Per. I thank both him and you, and pledge him 
 
 freely. 
 Thai. And further he desires to know of you, 
 Of whence you are, your name and parentage. 
 
 Per. A gentleman of Tyre ;— ( my name, Pericles; 
 My education being in arts and arms;)— 
 Who, looking for adventures in the world, 
 Was by the rough seas relt of ships and men, 
 And, after shipwreck, driven upon this shore. 
 Ttiui. He tlianks your grace ; names liimscif 
 Pericles, 
 A genllemau of Tyre, who only by 
 Mistiirtunc of the seas has been bereft 
 Of ships and men, and cast upon this sliore. 
 
 Sim. Now by the gods, I pity his niislbiiune, 
 And will awake him from his melancholy. 
 Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on tiilles. 
 And waste the time, wliich looks for other revels. 
 Even in your armors, as you are address'd, 
 Will very well become a soldier's dance. 
 I will not have excuse, with saying, this 
 Loud music is too harsh for ladies' lieads; 
 Since they love men in arms, as well as beds. 
 
 [The Knights dance. 
 So, this was well ask'd, 'twas so well peiform'd. 
 Come, sir; 
 
 Here is a lady that wants breathing too : 
 And I have often heard, you knights of Tyre 
 Are excellent in making ladies trip ; 
 And that their measures are as excellent. 
 Per. In those that practise tliem, they are, my 
 
 lord. 
 Sim. 0, that's as much as you would be deny'd 
 [The Knights and Ladies dunce. 
 Of your fair courtesy.— Unclasp, unclasp ; 
 Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well. 
 But you the best. [To Pericles.] Pages and lights, 
 
 conduct 
 Tliese knights unto their several lodgings: Yours, 
 
 sir. 
 We have given orders to be next our o\vn. 
 Per. I am at your grace's pleasure. 
 Sim.. Princes, it is too late to talk of love. 
 For that's the mark I know you level at: 
 Therclbre each one betake him to his rest ; 
 To-morrow, all for speeding do their best. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— TjTc. A Room in the Governor's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Helicants and Escaxes. 
 
 Jlel. No, no, my Escanes; know this of me,— 
 
 Antioi bus from incest liv'd not free ; 
 
 For which, the moat high gods not minding longer 
 
 To withhold the vengeance that they had in store. 
 
 Due to this heinous capital ollbnee. 
 
 Even in the height and pride of all his glory. 
 When he was seated, and his daughter with him. 
 In a chariot of inestinrable value, 
 A tire from heaven came, and shrivelfd up 
 Their bodies even to loathing ; for they so stunk. 
 That all those eyes ador'd them, ere their fall, 
 .Scorn now their hand should give them burial. 
 
 Esca. 'Twas very strange. 
 
 Hel. And yet but just; for though 
 
 This king was great, his greatness was no guard' 
 To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. 
 
 Esca. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Enter three Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. See, not a man in private conference, 
 Or council, has respect with him but he. 
 
 2 Lord. It shall no longer grieve without reproof. 
 
 3 Lord. Follow me then : Lord Helicane, a word. 
 Het. With me! and welcome: Happy day, my 
 
 lords. 
 1 Lord. Know that our griefs are risen to the top, 
 And now at length they overllow their banks. 
 Hel. Your griels, for what! wrong not the prince 
 you love. 
 
 1 Lm-d. Wrong not yourself then, noble Helicane : 
 But if the prince do live, let us salute him, 
 
 Or know what ground's made happy bv his breath. 
 If in the world he live, we'll seek him out ; 
 If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there; 
 And be rcsolv'd he lives to govern us. 
 Or dead, gives cause to mourn his funeral, 
 And leaves ns to our free election. 
 
 2 Lord. Whose death's, indeed, the strongest in 
 
 our censure : 
 And knowing this kingdom, if without a head, 
 (Like goodly buildings left without a roof,) 
 Will soon to ruin fall, your noble self. 
 That best know'st how to rale, and how to reign. 
 We thus submit unto, — our sovereign. 
 
 All. Live, Lord Helicane! 
 
 Bel. Try honor's cause, forbear your sutTrages, 
 If that you love prince Pericles, forbear. 
 Take I your wish, I leap into the seas, 
 Where's hourly trouble lor a minute's ease. 
 A twelvemonth longer let me then entreat you 
 To forbear choice i' the absence o' the king ; 
 If in which time expir'd, he not return. 
 I shall with aged jiatience bear your yoke. 
 But if I cannot win you to his love; 
 Go search like noblemen, like noble subjects. 
 And in your search spend your adventurous worth : 
 Whom if you find, and win unto return. 
 You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. 
 
 1 Lord. To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield 
 And, since lord Helicane enjoinelh us. 
 We with cur travels will endeavor it. 
 
 Hel. Then you love us, vm you, and we'll clasp 
 hands; 
 When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE v.— Pentapolis. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Simonides, reading a Letter, the Knights 
 meet him. 
 
 1 Knight. Good-morrow to the good Simonides. 
 Sim. Knights, from my daughter this I let you 
 
 know. 
 That for this twelvemonth, she'll not Undertake 
 A married life. 
 
 Her reason to herself is only known. 
 Which from herself by no means can I get. 
 
 2 Knight. May" we not get access to her, mv 
 
 lord ! 
 Sim. 'Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly 
 
 tied her 
 To her chamber, that it is impossible. 
 One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery; 
 This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd, 
 And on her virgin honor will not break it. 
 
 3 Knight. Though loath to bid tiirewell, we lake 
 
 our leaves. [Exeunt. 
 
 Sim. So 
 They're well despatch'd; now to my daughter's 
 
 letter ; 
 She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger knight, 
 Or never more lo view nor day nor light. 
 Mistress, 'tis well, your choice agrees with mine , 
 I like that well :— nay, how absolute she's in't, 
 Not minding wlielhcr 1 dislike or no I 
 Well, I commend her choice; 
 
Act III. Scene I. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 665 
 
 And will no lon{j:er have it be delay'd. 
 Soft, here he comes; — I must dissemble it. 
 Enter Pericles. 
 
 Per. All fortune to the Rood SimonidesJ 
 
 Hiin. To you as much, sir! I am beholden to 
 you. 
 For your sweet music this last nii^ht : my ears, 
 I do protest, were never better fed 
 With such deli^ihtful pleasing harmony. 
 
 Per. It is yoiir grace's pleasure to commend ; 
 Not my desert. 
 
 Sim. Sir, j'ou are music's master. 
 
 Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. 
 
 Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do you think, 
 sir, of 
 My daughter? 
 
 Per. As of a most virtuous princess. 
 
 Sim, And she is fair too, is she not? 
 
 Per. As a fair day in summer; wondrous fair. 
 
 Sim. My dau;;;hter, sir, thinks very well of you ; 
 Ay, so well, sir, that you must be her master. 
 And she'll your scholar be ; therefore, look to it. 
 
 Per. Unworthy I to be her schoolmaster. 
 
 Siw, She thinks not so; peruse this wTiting else. 
 
 Per. Wliat's herel 
 A letter tliat s!ie loves the Icnight of Tyre? 
 'Tis the kin^^'s subtilty, to have my lite. {Aside. 
 0, seek not to intra p, my gracious lord, 
 A stranger and distressed'gentlcman, 
 That never aim\i so hit;h to love your daughter, 
 But bent al! oihces to honor her. 
 
 Sim. Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and 
 thou art 
 A viilaiii. 
 
 Per. By the gods, I have not, sir : 
 Never did thousht of mine levy olTence; 
 Nor never did my actions j-et commence 
 A deed mii;ht gain her love, or your displeasure. 
 
 Slin. Traitor, thou licst. 
 
 Per. Traitor ! 
 
 Sim. Ay, traitor, sir. 
 
 Per. Even in his tiiroat (unless it be the king) 
 That calls me traitor, I return the lie. 
 
 Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his cou- 
 rage. [Aside, 
 
 Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts 
 That never relish'd of a base descent. 
 I came unto your court, tor honor's cause, 
 And not to be a rebel to her state ; 
 And he that otherwise accounts of me, 
 This sworfl shall prove he's honor's enemy. 
 
 Sim. No ! — 
 Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. 
 
 £/2/crTHAISA. 
 
 Per. Then, as you are as virtuous as fair, 
 Resolve your angry father, if my tongue 
 Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe 
 To any syllable that made love to you \ 
 
 Thai. Why. sir, say if you had. 
 Who takes dirence at that would make me glad? 
 
 Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory 1^ 
 I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] Vii tarae 
 
 you; 
 I'll bring you in subjection.— 
 Will yoii, not having my consent, bestow 
 Your love and your affections on a stranger? 
 (Who. for auslit I know to the contrary, 
 Or think, may be as great in blood as I.) [Ande, 
 Hear, therefore, mistress: frame your will to mine,— 
 And you, sir, hear you. — Either be rui'd by me. 
 Or I will make you"— man and wife. — 
 Nay. come ; your hands and lips must seal it too. — 
 And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy; — 
 And tor a further grief.—fJod give you joy ! 
 What, arc you both plcas'd ? 
 
 Thai. Yes. if you love me, sir. 
 
 Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it. 
 
 Sim. Wiiat, are you botli agreed ? 
 
 Bnfh. ' Yes, 'please your majesty. 
 
 Sim. It pleaseth tne so well, I'll see you wed ; 
 Then, with what haste you can, get you to bed. 
 
 [Exeii7it 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Enter Gower. 
 Gnw. Now sleep ysl-.iked" hath the rout, 
 No (iin but snores, the house abotit, 
 I^Iatle louder by the oVr-ied breast, 
 Of this most pompous marriai^e-Ceast. 
 The cat, with eyiic of burning coal. 
 Now crouches 'lore the movise's hole ; 
 Aud cricket.s sin;; at the oven's mouth. 
 As the blither for their drouth. 
 Hymen hath brou^jht tlie bride to bed, 
 Where, by the loss of maidenhead, 
 A babe is moulded ; — Be attent. 
 And tiine that is so briefly spent. 
 With your line fancies quaintly eche;' 
 What's dumb in show, I'll plain with speech. 
 Dumb shniit. Enter Pekici.es nnd Simoxides at one 
 d(ior,icUli Attendants; a Messenger mec/s tiim, 
 kneels, ami ffipes Pericles a Letter. Pericles 
 sitows it tn SiMONiDES; t/ie Lords kneel In the 
 furmcr. Tlirn enter Thaisa !(ii7A cliUil, and Lv- 
 cnoRiDA. SiMONiDES sliinvs M.s DauKhter the 
 Letter: xlie rejuices : slie and PEiiicLES take 
 leave rf tier Fattier, and depart. Tlien Simonides, 
 4e. retire. 
 
 r,ow. By many a dcarn' and painful perch,i 
 Of Pericles the careful search, 
 Ry the four opposinj; coi:;nes.2 
 Which the world together joins. 
 Is made with all due diligence. 
 That horse, and sail, and high expense. 
 Can stead the qucst.3 At last from Tyre, 
 (Fame answerinp: the most strong inquire,! 
 To the court of king Simonides 
 Are letters brought; the tenor these 
 Antiochus and his daughter's dead; 
 The men of Tyrus, on the head 
 Of Helicanus would set on 
 The crown of Tyro, but ho will none : 
 ' Quenched. « Kke out. "» liOnelj-. i A measure, 
 a Corners. » Uelp,'or assist the search. 
 
 The mutiny there he hastes t'appease: 
 
 Rays to thcin, if king Pericles 
 
 Coine not, in twice six moons, home, 
 
 He. obedient to their doom, 
 
 Will take the crown. The sum of this, 
 
 Brouiiht hither to Pentapolis, 
 
 Y-ravished the regions round. 
 
 And every one with claps 'gan sound. 
 
 Our ticir apparent U ft kins; 
 
 Wlin dreamed, vfin ttimiglit of suett a thing? 
 
 Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: 
 
 His queen, with child, makes her desire 
 
 f Wliich who shall cross?) along to go; 
 
 (Omit we all their dole and wo;) 
 
 Lychorida, her nurse, she takes. 
 
 And so to sea. Their vessel shakes 
 
 On Neptune's billow ; half the llood 
 
 Hath their keel cut; but fortune's mood 
 
 Varies again ; the grizzled north 
 
 Disgorges such a tempest Ibrth, 
 
 That, as a duck for life that dives. 
 
 So up and down the poor ship drives. 
 
 The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near!^ 
 
 Doth fall in travail with her fear:. 
 
 And what ensues in this fell storm. 
 
 Shall, for itselt', itself perform. 
 
 I nilP relate; action may 
 
 Conveniently the rest convey: 
 
 Which might not what by me is told. 
 
 In your imagination hold 
 
 This stage, the ship, upon whose deck 
 
 The sea-tost prince appears to speak. [Lx'it. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Enter Pericles, 07i a Ship at Sea. 
 Per. Thou god of this great vast, rebuke theso 
 surges. 
 Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou, that 
 hast 
 
 « An exd.imation eciuivalent to well-a-day. 
 > I shall not. 
 
666 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, 
 Having callM them from the deep ! O still thy 
 
 deaf 'nin^, 
 Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble. 
 Sulphureous fLislies! — liow, Lychorida, 
 How does my queen?— Thou storm, thou ! venom- 
 ously 
 Wilt thou spit all thyself?— The seaman's whistle 
 Is as a whisper in the ears of death. 
 Unheard. — Lychorida!— Lucina,'' 
 Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle 
 To tiiose that cry by niglit, convey tliy deity 
 Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs 
 
 Of my queen's travails ! — Now, Lychorida 
 
 Enter L\CRomDA,wilh an InJ'ant. 
 
 Lye. Here is a thing 
 Too young for such a place, who, if it had 
 Conceit, would die as 1 am like to do. 
 Take in your arms this piece of your dead queen. 
 
 Per. How'! how, Lychorida ! 
 
 Lye. Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. 
 Here's all that is left living of your queen, — 
 A little daughter; for the sake of it, 
 Be manly, and take comfort. 
 
 Per. you gods ! 
 
 Why do you make us love your goodly gifts. 
 And snatch them straight away? We, here below, 
 Recall not what we give, and therein may 
 Vie honor' with yourselves. 
 
 Lye. Patience, good sir, 
 
 Even for this charge. 
 
 Per. Now, mild may be thy life ! 
 
 For a more blust'rous birtli had never babe : 
 Quiet and-gentle thy conditions! 
 For thou'rt the ruddiest welcom'd to this world. 
 That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows! 
 Thou hast as chiding a nativity. 
 As lire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make. 
 To herald thee from the womb ! even at the first, 
 Tliy loss is more than can thy portage quit,* 
 Willi all thou canst find here.— Now the good gods 
 Throw their best eyes upon it ! 
 
 Enter two Sailors. 
 
 1 Sail. What courage, sir ? God save you. 
 
 Per. Courage enough: I do not fear the haw; 
 It hath done to me the worst. Yet, lor the love 
 Of this poor infiint, this fiesh-new sea-farer, 
 I would, it would be quiet. 
 
 1 fSail. Slack the bolinss there; thou wilt not, 
 wilt thou ? Blow, and split thyself. 
 
 2 .S'ni/. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy 
 billow kiss the moon, I care not. 
 
 1 ScrU. Sir, your queen must overboard ; the sea 
 works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till 
 the ship be cleared of the dead. 
 Per. That's your superstition. 
 1 Sail. Pardon us.sir; with us at sea it still hath 
 been observed; and we are strong in earnest. 
 Therefore briefly yield her; lor she must overboard 
 straight. 
 Per. Be it as you think meet.— Most wretclied 
 
 queen ! 
 Lye. Here she lies, sir. 
 
 Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear. 
 No light, no fire ; the unfriendly elements 
 Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time 
 To give thee hallowed to thy grave, but straight 
 Must cast thee, scarcely colhn'd, in the ooze ; 
 Where, for a monument upon thy bones. 
 And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale. 
 And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, 
 Lying with simple shells. Lychorida, 
 Bid Nestor bring me sjiices, ink, and paper; 
 My casket, and my jewels; and bid Nicander 
 Dniig me the satin coder: lay the babe 
 Upon the pillow; liie thee, whiles I .say 
 A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. 
 
 [Exit Lychorida. 
 2 i<ail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, 
 caulk'dand bitumed ready. 
 Per. I thanlc thee. Mariner, say, what coast is 
 
 this? 
 2 Sail. We are near Tharsus. 
 Per. Thither, gentle mariner. 
 Alter thy course lor Tyre. When canst thou reach it? 
 ■ The gO(IileR.s of chil(U«iiring. 
 ' Cont^'nJ with you in honor. 
 > Thiin any t-ntrance into life can requite. 
 • BmvUnc^f ropes of the sails. 
 
 2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. 
 
 Per. make for Tharsus. 
 There will I visit Cleon, for the babe 
 Cannot hold out to Tyrus; there I'll leave it 
 At careful nursing. Go tliy ways, good mariner; 
 I'll bring the body presently. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Cekimon, a Servant, and some Persons wlu 
 
 fiave been Shipwrecked, 
 
 Cer. Philemon, ho ! 
 
 Enter Philemon. 
 Phil. Doth my lord call ? 
 Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men; 
 It has been a turbulent and stormy night. 
 Serv. I have been in many; but such a night as 
 this. 
 Till now, I ne'er endur'd. 
 
 Cer. Your master will be dead e'er vou return; 
 There's nothing can be minister'd to nature. 
 That can recover him. Give this to the "jiotliecary, 
 And tell me how it works. [r« I'iiilemos. 
 
 [Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and tlwse who 
 had been Stiipwrecked. 
 Enter two Gentlemen. 
 
 1 Gent. Good-morrow, sir. 
 
 2 Getit. Good-morrow to your lordship. 
 
 Cer. Gentlemen, 
 
 Why do you stir so early ? 
 
 1 Gent. Sir, 
 
 Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea 
 Shook, as the earth did quake; 
 The very principals' did seem to rend. 
 And all to topple ; pure surprise and fear 
 Made me to quit the house. 
 
 2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so 
 
 early ; 
 'Tis not our husbandry .2 
 Cer. 0, you say well. 
 
 1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship, 
 having 
 Rich 'tire about you, should at these early hours 
 Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 
 It is most strange. 
 
 Nature should be so conversant with pain. 
 Being thereto not eompeli'd. 
 
 Cer. I held it ever, 
 
 Virtue and cunning^ were endowments greater 
 Than nobleness and riches ; careless heirs 
 May the two latter darken and expend; 
 But immortality attends the former. 
 Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever 
 Have studied physic, through which secret art, 
 By turning o'er authorities, 1 have 
 (Together with my practice) made familiar 
 To me and to my aid, the blest infusions 
 That dwell in vegitives, in metals, stones; 
 And I can speak of the disturbances 
 That nature works, and of her cures ; which give 
 
 me 
 A more content in course of true delight 
 Than to be thirsty at>er tottering honor. 
 Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, 
 To please the fool and death. 
 2 Gent. Your honor has through Epiiesus 
 pour'd forth 
 Your charity, and hundreds call themselves 
 Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd ; 
 And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even 
 Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon 
 
 Sucli strong renown as time shall never 
 
 Enter two Servants with a Cliest. 
 Serv. So ; lift there. 
 Cer. What is that? 
 
 Serv. sir, even now 
 
 Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 
 'Tis of some wreck. 
 Cer. Set 't do^vn, let's look on it. 
 
 2 Gent. 'Tis like a coflin, sir. 
 Cer. Whate'er it be, 
 
 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight; 
 If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold, 
 It is a good constraint of fortune, that 
 It belches upon us. 
 
 » Tht' piincipaU are the strongest rafters in the roof of 
 a building. 
 « Kconomical prudence, early rising. ■ Knowledge. 
 
SCKNE IV. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OP TYRE. 
 
 667 
 
 2 Gent. 'Tis so. my lord. 
 
 Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed !— 
 Did the sea cast it up ? 
 
 Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir. 
 As toss'd it upon shore. 
 
 Ce'- Come, WTcnch it open. 
 
 Soft, soft !— it smells most sweetly in my sense. 
 
 2 Gent. A delicate odor. 
 
 Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so,— up with it. 
 you most potent god ! what's here 1 a corse 1 
 
 1 Gfnf. Mo.st stranKC ! 
 
 Cer. Shrouded in cloth of state ; balm'd and en- 
 treasur-d 
 With bass of spices full ! A passport too ! 
 Apollo, perfect me i' the characters! 
 
 [ Unfolds a scrnll. 
 [Reads. 
 
 Here I ^ive fn understand, 
 
 (If e'erthit cnjtin drive a-land,) 
 
 I kinff Pcrirles, hare lost 
 
 T/iis ijtteen. ir<ir//f aft our mundane cost. 
 
 IVtin findx tter.gire tier linriiing. 
 
 She ihns ttie datif(hter(f <i king: 
 
 Besides tfiis treasure fir a fee. 
 
 The gods requite Ms cttariiy I 
 
 If thou liv'sl, Pericles, thou hast a heart 
 That even cracks for woe! — This chanced to- 
 niu'ht. 
 
 2 Gent. Most likely, sir. 
 
 Cer. Nay, certainly to-ni^ht, 
 
 For look, how fresh she looks! — They were too 
 
 rouffh. 
 That threw her in the sea. Make fire within ; 
 Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. 
 Death may usurp on nature many hours. 
 And yet the fire of life kindle a;rain 
 The overpressed spirits. I have heard 
 Of an Ei^yplian. had nine hours lien dead, 
 By good appliance was recovered. 
 
 Enter a Servant, with. Boxes, Napkins, and Fire. 
 
 Well said, well said ; the fire and the cloths. — 
 The roush and woeful m\isic lliat we have, 
 Cause it to sound, 'beseech you. 
 The vial once more; — How thou stirr'st, thou 
 
 block!— 
 The music there. — I pray you, give her air : — 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth 
 Breathes out of her; she hath not been en- 
 
 Iranc'd 
 Above five hours. See. how she 'gins to blow 
 Into life's flower again! 
 
 1 Cent. The heavens, sir, 
 Tlirough you, increase our wonder, and set up 
 Your lame for ever. 
 
 Cer. She is alive; behold. 
 
 Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels 
 Which Pericles hath lost, 
 Bciiin to part their fringes of bright gold; 
 Tlie diamonds of a most praised water 
 Appear lo make the world twice rich. live. 
 And raaKe us weep to hear your fate, fair crea- 
 ture. 
 Rate as you seem to be ! [She moves. 
 
 Thai. dear Diana, 
 
 Where am II Where's my lordl What world is 
 tliis? 
 
 2 Gent. Is not this strange? 
 
 1 Gent. Most rare. 
 
 Cer. Hush, gen[le neighbors; 
 
 Lend me your hands: lo liie next chamber bear 
 
 her. 
 Get linen ; now this matter must be look'd to. 
 For her relapse is morlal. Come, come, come ; 
 And ^-Esculapius guide us! 
 
 [£xeunt, carrying Thaisa away. 
 
 SCENE III.— Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dioxyza, Ltchoeida, and 
 
 Marina. 
 
 Per. Most honor'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; 
 My twelve months are expir'd.and Tyrus stands 
 In a litigious peace. You, and your lady. 
 Take from my heart all thankfulness ! The gods 
 Make up the rest upon you ! 
 
 Cte. Y'our shafts of fortune, though they hurt 
 you mortally, 
 Y'et glance full wan'd'ringly on us. 
 
 Ditin. O your sweet queen ! 
 
 That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought 
 
 her iiither. 
 To have bless'd mine eyes ! 
 
 Per. We cannot but obey 
 
 The powers above us. Could I rage and roar 
 As doth the .sea she lies in, yet the end 
 Must l>e as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom. 
 For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so) here 
 I charge your charity withal, and leave her 
 The infafit of your care; beseeching you 
 To give her pi-incely training, that she may be 
 Manuer'd as she is born. 
 
 Cle. Fear not, my lord : 
 
 Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, 
 (For which the people's prayers still fall on you,) 
 iVIusI in your child be thought on. If neglection 
 Sliould therein make me vile, the common body,* 
 By yim reliev'd, would force me to my duty : 
 But if to that my nature need a spur. 
 The gods levenge it upon me and mine, 
 To the end of generation! 
 
 Per. I believe you, 
 
 Y'our honor and your goodness teach me credit. 
 Without >'our vows. Till she be married, madam, 
 ily bright Diana, whom we honor all, 
 Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine retnain. 
 Though I show wilf^ in't. So 1 take my leave. 
 Good madam, make me blessed in your care 
 In bringing up my child. 
 
 Diim. I have one myself, 
 
 Who shall not be more dear to my respect, 
 Thau yours, my lord. 
 
 Per. Madam, my thanks and prayers. 
 
 Cte. We'll bring your grace even lo the edge 
 o' the shore ; 
 Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune, and 
 The gentlest winds of heaven. 
 
 Per. I will embrace 
 
 Y'our olTer. Come, dear'st madam. — 0, no tears. 
 Lychorida, no tears: 
 
 Look to your little mistress, on whose grace 
 You may depend hereafter. — Come, my lord. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Ephesus. A Room in Cerijion's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Ceuimon a7td Thaisa. 
 
 Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, 
 Lay with >'0U in your cotter: which are now 
 At'your commaiiil. Know you tlie character ] 
 
 Thai. It is my lord's. 
 That I was shipp'd at sea. I well remember. 
 Even on my yearning time ; but whether there 
 Delivered or no, by the holy gods, 
 I cannot rightly say: But since king Pericles, 
 My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, 
 A vestal livery will I take me to, 
 .\nd never more have joy. 
 
 Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as you speak, 
 Diana's temple is not distant far. 
 Where you may 'bide until your date expire. 
 Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine 
 Shall there attend you. 
 
 Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all ; 
 Y'et my good will is great, though the gift small. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 * The common people. < Appear wilful. 
 
668 
 
 PERICLES, PEINCE OP TYRE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Goweh. 
 Gnw. Imagine Pericles at Tj're, 
 WciConiM to his own desire. 
 His woeful queen leave at Ephess, 
 To Dian there a votaress. 
 Now to Marina bend jour mind, 
 ^\'hom our fast-srowing scene must find 
 At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'il 
 In music, letters; who hath gaiu'd 
 Of education all the grace, 
 Which makes her both the heart and place 
 Of general wonder. But alack ! 
 That monster envy, oft the wrack 
 Of earned praise. Marina's lilc 
 Seeks to take oil' by treason's knife. 
 And in this kind hath our Cleon 
 One daughter, and a wench full grown. 
 Even ripe for marriage tight; this maid 
 Higlits Philoten: and it is said 
 For certain in our story, she 
 Would ever with Marina be : 
 Be't when she weav'd the sicided" silk 
 With fingers long, small, wliite as milk; 
 Or when she would with sharp neeld» wound 
 The cam'oric. which she made more sound 
 Ey hurting it; or when to the lute 
 She sung, and made the night-bird mute. 
 That still rccordss with moan ; or when 
 She would with rich and constant pen 
 Vail to her mistress Dian ; still 
 This Philoten contends in skill 
 With absolute' Marina: so 
 With the dove of Paphos might the crow 
 Vie ((gathers while. Marina gets 
 All praises, which arc paid as debts, 
 And not as given. Th!s so darks 
 In Philoten all graceful marks. 
 That Clcon's wife, with envy rare, 
 A present murderer does prepare 
 For good Marina, that her daughter 
 Might stand peerless by this slaughter. 
 The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, 
 Lyciiorida, our nurse, is dead ; 
 Arid cursed Dionyza hath 
 The pregnant- instrument of wrath 
 Prest^ tor this blow. The unborn event 
 1 do commend to your content : 
 Only I carry winged time 
 Post on the lame feet of my rhyme ; 
 AVhich never could I so convey. 
 Unless your thoughts went on my way. — 
 Dionyza does appear. 
 With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE I. — Tharsus. An open Place near the 
 
 Hea-sfiore. 
 
 Enter Dioxtza and Leoxise. 
 
 Dion. Thy oath, remember; thou hast sworn to 
 do it: 
 'Tis Init a blow, which never shall be k-nown. 
 Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon 
 To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, 
 Wliich is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom, 
 Infianie too nicely ; nor let pity, which 
 Even women have east oil, melt thee, but be 
 A soklier to thy purpose. 
 
 Leon. I'll do't ; but yet she is a goodly creature. 
 
 Bum. The litter then the gods should liave her. 
 Here 
 Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. 
 Thou art resolv'd ! 
 
 Leon. I am resolv'd. 
 
 Enter Marixa, ivith a Basket of Flowers. 
 Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus' of her weed. 
 To strew thy green with flowers; the yellows, blues, 
 The purple violets, and marigolds. 
 Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave, 
 
 f r.iiled. ' Untwisted. s Needle. 
 
 • Sinirs. * Accomplished, perfect. 5 1'repared. 
 
 • Kcady. « The earth. 
 
 While summer days do last. Ah me! poor maid, 
 Born in a tempest, when my mother died, 
 This world to me is like a lasting storm. 
 Whirring me from my friends. 
 Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep 
 alone 1 
 How chance my daughter is not with you 7 Do not 
 Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have 
 .\ nurse of me. Lord! how your favor's changed 
 With this unprofitable woe! Come, come; 
 Give me your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea 
 
 mar it. 
 Walk forth with Leonine ; the air is quick there. 
 Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come; — 
 Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. 
 _ JV/ur. No, I pray you ; 
 I'll not bereave you of your servant. 
 
 Dion. Come, come; 
 
 I love the king your father, and yourself. 
 With more than foreign heart. We every day 
 Expect him here: vvlien he shall come, and find 
 Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted, 
 Ho will repent the hrcadth of his great voyage; 
 Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta'en 
 No care to your best courses. (rO, I pray you. 
 Walk, and be cheerful once again ; reserve 
 That excellent complexion, vCiiich did steal 
 The eyes of young aiid old. Care not for me ; 
 I can go home alone. 
 
 Mur. . Well. I will go ; 
 
 But yet I have no desire to it. 
 
 Dit/n. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. 
 Walk half an hour. Leonine, at the least; 
 Remember what I have said. 
 Leon. ^ I warrant you. madam, 
 
 Diott. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a w bile ; 
 Pray you, walk softly, do not heat your blood : 
 Whal ! I must have a care of you. 
 
 Mar. Thanks, sweet madam.— [Exit Diox. 
 
 Is this wind westerly that blows? 
 Leon. South-west. 
 
 Mar. When I was born, the wind was north. 
 Leon. Was't so t 
 
 Mur. My flithcr, as nurse said, did never fear, 
 But cry'd, ^ood fseovten ! to the sailors, galling 
 His kingly hands with hauling of tlie ropes; 
 .\nd, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea 
 That almost burst t|-,c deck, and from the ludder- 
 
 taekln 
 W,a-ch'd otfa canvass-climber: tla! says one, 
 Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry. 
 They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain 
 
 vvliistles. 
 The master calls, and trebles their confusion. 
 Leon. And when was this! 
 
 I^Iar. 1 1 was when I was born : 
 
 Never was waves nor wind more violent. 
 Le<m. Come, say your prayers speedily. 
 iWw. What liiean voul 
 
 Leon. If you require a little space for prayer, 
 I grant it: Pray; liut be not tedious, 
 For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn 
 To do my work with haste. 
 Mar. Why will you kill me 1 
 
 Leon. To satisfy my lady. 
 Mur. Why would she have me kill'd 1 
 Now, as I calf remember, by my troth, 
 I never did her hurt in all my life; 
 I never spake had word, nor did ill turn 
 To any living creature: believe me, la, 
 I never kilPd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: 
 I trod upon a worm against my will, 
 I'.iit I wept for it. How have f offended. 
 Wherein my death might yield her profit, or 
 My life imply her danger? 
 
 Leon. My commission 
 
 Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. 
 
 Mar. You will not do't for all tlie world, I hope. 
 You are well-favor'd, and your looks foreshow 
 You have a gentle heart. I saw you lalely. 
 When you caught hurt in parting two that fought. 
 Good sooth, it sliow'd well in you; do so now: 
 
Scene HI. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 669 
 
 Your lady seeks my life : come j'ou between, 
 And sa\c poor ine, the weaker. 
 
 Lmn. I am sworn, 
 
 And will dospateh. 
 
 Enter Pirates, whilst Marina is struggling. 
 
 1 Pirate. Hold, villain ! [Leonine ?■««« aivcy. 
 
 2 Pirate. A prize ! a jirize ! 
 
 '6 Pirate. Hair-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's 
 have her aboard suddenly. 
 
 [Exeunt Pirates, witti Marina. 
 
 i5CE?CE II.— TA- same. Re-enter Leonine. 
 Levn. Those roving thieves serve the great pi- 
 rate Valdes; 
 And they iiave seiz'd Marina. Let her go. 
 There's no hope slic'll return. V\\ swear she's dead. 
 And thrown into the sea. — But V\\ see further; 
 Perhaps Ihey will but ]>lease themselves upon her. 
 Not carry her aboard. If she remain. 
 Whom they have ravisli'd, must by me be slain. 
 
 [ExU. 
 
 SCENE 111.— Mitylcnc. A lionm in a Brotliel. 
 Enter Pander, Bawd, <md BoULT. 
 
 Pnnd. Boiilt. 
 
 Boult. Sir. 
 
 Piinil. Search the market narrowly; Mitylene is 
 ftdl of i;;i Hants. We lost too much money this 
 mort, hy iieint; too \\cncliless. 
 
 Bawd. We were never so mucli out of creatures. 
 We have but poor three, and they can do no more 
 than they can do; and with continual action are 
 even as good as rotten. 
 
 Pand. Therefore lot's have fresh ones, whato'cr 
 we pay tor them. If there he not a conscience to 
 bo used in every trade, wo shall never prosper. 
 
 Bawd. Thou say'st true; 'tis not the bringing 
 up of poor bastards, as I tinnk I have brought up 
 some eleven 
 
 Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down 
 again. But sliall I search the market? 
 
 Bawd. What else, man ? The stuff we have, a 
 strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so piti- 
 fully sodden.- 
 
 Fund. Thou say'st true; they are too unwhole- 
 some, o' conscience. The poor Transylvanian is 
 dead, that lay with the little baggage. 
 
 Boult. Ay, she quickly poop'd him ; she made 
 him roast meat for wortns: but I'll go search the 
 market. [Exit Bcui.T. 
 
 Pand. Three or four thousand choquins were as 
 pretty a proportion to live quietly, andsogiveovcr. 
 
 Bawd. Wliy, to give over. 1 pray you? is it a 
 shame to got when we are old ? 
 
 Pand. 0, our credit comes not in like the com- 
 modity ; nor the commodity wages not with the 
 danger; therolbre, if in our youths we could pick 
 up some pretty estate 'twere not amiss to keep our 
 door hatcliod.i Bositles, the sore terms we stand 
 upon with tlie gods, will be strong with us for giv- 
 ing over. 
 
 Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we. 
 
 Pand. As well as we ! ay, and better too ; we 
 offend worse. Neither is our jirofession any trade ; 
 it's no calling:— but here conies Boult. 
 
 Enter the Pirates, and Boult, dragging in 
 Marina. 
 
 Bnntt. Come your ways. [To Marina.]— My 
 masters, you say she's a virgin 1 
 
 1 Piraic. 0, sir, we doubt it not. 
 
 Boult. Master, I have gone thorough^ for this 
 piece, you see: if you likelier, so: if not, I have 
 lost my earnest. 
 
 Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities? 
 
 Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has 
 excellont good clothes; tliere's no further necessity 
 of qualities can make her be refused. 
 
 Buw I. Wliat's her price, Boult ? 
 
 Btnilt. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand 
 pieces. 
 
 Pand. Well, follow me, my masters ; you shall 
 have your money presently. Wife, take her in; 
 instruct her what she has to do, tliat she may not 
 be raw in her entertainment. 
 
 [Exeunt Pander and Pirates. 
 
 Bawd. Boult, take you tiie marks of her; the 
 
 ' i. e. Uall'cipsn. • Bid ,•> high price for her. 
 
 color of her hair, complexion, height, age, with 
 warrant of her virginity; and cry. He iliat will 
 give most sliall liave lier'jirst. Such a maidenhead 
 were no cheap tiling, if men were as they have 
 been. Got lliis done as I command j'ou. 
 
 Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit BouiT. 
 
 Mar. Alack, that Leojiine was so slack', so slow! 
 (He should have struck, not spoke;) or tliat these 
 
 pi rates 
 (Not enough barbarous) had not overboard 
 Thrown me to seek my mother! 
 
 Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one? 
 
 Mar. That I am pretty. 
 
 Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in 
 you. 
 
 3Iar. I accuse tliem not. 
 
 Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where you are 
 like to live. 
 
 Mar. The more my fault. 
 To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die. 
 
 Bawi. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. 
 
 Mar. No. 
 
 Bawd. Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste gentle- 
 men of all fashions. You shall fare welf; you 
 shall have the dilierenceof all complexions. What ! 
 do you stop your ears ? 
 
 Mar. Are you a woman? 
 
 Biiwd. What would you have me be, an I be 
 not a woman. 
 
 Mar. .\n honest woman, or not a woman. 
 
 Bawd. Marry, whip thee, goslin: I think I shall 
 have something to do with you. Come, you are a 
 young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I 
 would have you. 
 
 Mar. The gods defend me! 
 
 Bawd. If it picase the gods to defend you by 
 men, then men must comfort you. men must feed 
 you, men must stir you up.— Boult's relurn'd. 
 
 Enter Boclt. 
 Now, sir, hast thon cried licr through the market? 
 
 Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of 
 her hairs ; I have drawn her picture with my voice. 
 
 Bawd. And I pr'ythec tell me, how dost thou 
 find the inclination of the people, especially of the 
 younger sort \ 
 
 Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me,as they would 
 have hearkened to their Lather's testament. There 
 was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went 
 to bed to her very description. 
 
 Bawd. We shall have Jiim here to-morrov/ with 
 his best rtitf on. 
 
 Boult. To-night, to night. But, mistress, do vou 
 know the French kniglit that cowers' i' the haiiis ! 
 
 Bawd. Who! monsieur Veroles? 
 
 Boult. Ay ; ho olHred to cut a caper at the pro 
 claniatiou ; but he made a groan at it, and sv.oro 
 he woidd see her to-morrow. 
 
 Bawd. Well, well; as lor him, he brought liis 
 disease liillier: here he does but repair it. 1 know, 
 he will come in our shadow, to scatter liis crowns 
 in the sun. 
 
 Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a travel- 
 ler, we should lodge thorn with this sign. 
 
 Bawd. Pray you, c»nie hither a wliilc. You Iiave 
 fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you must 
 seem to do tliat fearfull}-, wliicli you commit wil- 
 lingly; to des])ise profit, wlicrc you have most gain. 
 To weep that you live as you do, makes pity in 
 your lovers: Seldom, but that pity begets you a 
 good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit. 
 
 Mar. 1 understand you not. 
 
 Boult. O.take her home, mistress, take her home: 
 these blushes others must be quenched with some 
 present practice. 
 
 Bawd. Thou sayest true, i' faith, so theymrst: 
 for your bride goes to that with shame, which is 
 •her way to go with warrant. 
 
 Boult. 'Faith some do, and some do not. But, 
 mistress, if I have bargained for the joint, 
 
 Bawd. Thou niayost cut a morsel olfthc spit. 
 
 Boult. I may so. 
 
 Bawd. Who should deny it? Come, young one, 
 I like the manner of your garments well. 
 
 Boult. Ay, by ni}- faith, they shall not be changed 
 yet. 
 
 Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town : re- 
 port what a sojourner we have : you'll lose nothing 
 by custom. When nature framed this piece, she 
 ' Bends. 
 
670 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a pa- 
 ragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine 
 own report. 
 
 Botilr. I warrant yon, mistress, thunder shall not 
 so awake the beds of eels, as my giving out her 
 beauty stir up the lewdly inclined. I'll bring home 
 some to-night. 
 
 Bciwcl. Come your ways; follow me. 
 
 ]\[ar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, 
 Untied I still ray virgin knot will keep. 
 Diana, aid my purpose ! 
 
 Bawd. What have we to do with Diana ? Pray 
 you, will you go with us 1 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Tharsus. A Room in Cleox's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Clegs and Dioxvz.i. 
 
 Dio)7. Why. are j-ou foolish ? Can it he undone? 
 
 Cle. Dionyza. such a piece of slaughter 
 The sun and iiioon ne'er loolv'd upon! 
 
 Dinn. I think 
 
 You'll turn a child again. 
 
 Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world, 
 I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady. 
 Much less in blood than virtue, vet a princess 
 To equal any single crown i' the earth, 
 I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine, 
 Whom thou hast poison'd too! 
 If lliou hadst drunk to him, it had been a Kindness 
 Beciiming well thy feat:* What canst thou say, 
 When noble Pericles shall demand his child? 
 
 Vi/m. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, 
 To fosjter it. nor ever to preserve. 
 She died by night ; I'll say so. Who can cross it? 
 Unles^; you play the impious innocent,' 
 And for an honest attribute cry out. 
 She died by foul play. 
 
 (-le. 0- go to. Well, well, 
 
 Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods 
 Do like this worst. 
 
 D'lin. Be one of those that think 
 
 The petty wrens of Tharsus will ilv hence, 
 And open this to Pericles. I do shame 
 To think of what a noble strani 50U are. 
 And of how cow'd a spirit. 
 
 Cte. To such proceeding 
 
 Who ever but his approbation added. 
 Though not hi.s prc-conscnt, he did not flow 
 From honorable courses. 
 
 Dion. Be it so then: 
 
 Yet none does know, but you. how she came dead; 
 Nor none can know, Leonine being goTie. 
 She did disdain my child, and stood between 
 Her and her fortunes: None would look on her, 
 But cast their gazes on Marina's face ; 
 Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkin,i 
 Nor worth the time of day. It pierced me thorough; 
 
 C;'s- Heavens forgive it ! 
 
 Dion. And as for Pericles, 
 What should he say ? We wept after her hearse. 
 And even yet we mourn: her monument 
 Is almost Hnish'd. and her epitaphs 
 In glittering golden characters express 
 A gcTieral praise to her. and care in us 
 At whose expense 'tis done. 
 
 , '^e- Thou art like the liarpy. 
 
 Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face. 
 Seize with an eagle's talons. 
 
 Di(m. Vou are like one, that superstitiously 
 Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the "flies; 
 But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Gower, before the Monument of Marina, 
 at Tharsus. 
 Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues 
 make short; 
 Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't; 
 Making (to lake your imaKination) 
 From bourn to bourn, region to region. 
 By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime 
 To use one language in each several clime 
 
 ■ i. r. Of a picco witli th.' rest of thy exploit. 
 
 ■ An inuocelit v.as fonniTlj- a common apncllalion for 
 an idiot. 
 
 » A coarso wench, not worth a good morrow. 
 
 Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you 
 
 To learn of me, who stand i' the gap to leach you 
 
 The stages of our story. Pericles 
 
 Is now again thwarting the wayward seas 
 
 (.\ttcnded on by many a lord and knight) 
 
 To see his daughter, aill his life's delight. 
 
 Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late 
 
 Advanced ni time to great and high estate, 
 
 Is lell to govern. Bear you it in mind. 
 
 Old Helicanus goes along behind. 
 
 Well-sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have 
 
 brought 
 This king to Tharsus. (think this pilot thought; 
 So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,) 
 To tetch his daughter home, who first is gone. 
 Like motes and shadows see them move a while ; 
 Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. 
 
 Dumb shnw. Enter at one Donr, Periples, with 
 
 his Train ; Ci.EOX and DioxvzA. at the other. 
 
 Cleox shinv.i Pericles the Tomb of Marina; 
 
 ivhereat Pericles matces lamenlalinn, puts on 
 
 Sackctiith, and in a mighty passion departs. 
 
 Tlien Cleox and Dioxv»a retire. 
 
 Gow. See how belief may sulTer by foul show! 
 This borrow'd passion stands for triie old woe ; 
 And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd. 
 With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'er- 
 
 shower'd. 
 Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears 
 Never to wash his (ace, nor cut his hairs; 
 He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears 
 A tempest, whicii his mortal vessel tears. 
 And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit 
 The epitaph is for Marina writ 
 By wicked Dionyza. • 
 
 [Reads the Inscription on Maeixa's Monument. 
 The fairest, sweet'sf, and best, ties here, 
 Who wither''d in her spring of year. 
 She was if Tyrus. the liings' daughter. 
 On irhinn foul death hath 'mate this slaughter; 
 Marina shf was call'd; and, at her birth, 
 Thetis,- being proud, swallow'd some part 0' the 
 
 earth : 
 Therefore the earth, fearing to be o''eiflotu''d, 
 Ilath Thetis^ birth-child nn the heavens be.stowM: 
 Wherefore she does [and swears she'll never stint^) 
 Make raging battery upon sliores of flint. 
 
 No visor does become black vilhany 
 
 So well as soft and tender flattery. 
 
 Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead. 
 
 And bear his courses to be ordered 
 
 By lady Ibrtune; while our scenes display 
 
 His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day. 
 
 In her unholy service. Patience, then. 
 
 And think you now are all in Mitylen. [Exif. 
 
 SCENE v.— Mitylene. A Street before the 
 
 Brothel. 
 Enter, from the Brothel, two Gentlemen. 
 
 1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like ! 
 
 2 Gent. No. nor never shall do in such a place 
 as this, she being once gone. 
 
 1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there! 
 did you ever dream of such a thing I * 
 
 2 Gent. No. no. Come. I am for no more bawdy- 
 houses : shall we go hear the vestals sing ? 
 
 I Gent. I'll do anything now that is virtuous ; 
 but I am out ol the road of rutting, forever. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— TAe same. A Room in, the Brothsl. 
 Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult. 
 
 Band. Well. I h.id rather than twice the worth 
 of her, she had ne'er come here. 
 
 Bawd. Fye, fye upon her; she is able to freeze 
 the god Priapus.and undo a whole generation. We 
 must either get her ravished, or be rid of her.— 
 When she should do for clients her fitment, and do 
 me the kindness of her profession, she has me her 
 quirks, her reasons, lii>r master-reasons, her pray- 
 ers, her knees; that she would make a puritan of 
 the devil, if he would cheapen a kiss of her. 
 
 Boult. 'Failh. I must ravish her, or slie'll dis- 
 furnish us of all our cavaliers, and make all oui 
 swearers priestij. 
 
 » The sea. s Xever cease. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 671 
 
 Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness 
 for me ! , 
 
 Biiwd. 'Failh. there's no way to be rid on t, but 
 by the way to tlie pox. Here comes the lord Lysi- 
 machus, disguised. 
 
 Bualt. We .should have both lord and lown, if 
 the peevish baggage would but give way to cus- 
 tomers. 
 
 Enter Lysimachus. 
 
 I.ys. Hov; now 1 How' a dozen of virginities 1 
 
 Biiwd. Now, the gods to bless your honor ! 
 
 Bi/ull. I am glad to see your honor in good 
 health. 
 
 Li/s. You may so: tis the better for you that 
 your resortcrs stand upon sound logs. How now, 
 wholesome iniquity'! Have you tliat a man may 
 deal withal, and defy the surgeon ] 
 
 Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she would ■ — - 
 but there never came her like in Mitylene. 
 
 Li/s. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou 
 woiiMst say. 
 
 Bawd. Your honor knows what 'tis to say, well 
 enough. 
 
 Lys. Well; call forth, call forth. 
 
 Buult. For llesh and blood, sir, white and red, 
 you shall see a rose ; and she were a rose indeed, 
 if she had but 
 
 Lys. What, pr'y thee'! 
 
 Buult. G, sir, I can be modest. 
 
 Lys. Thatdignilies the renown of a bawd, no less 
 than it gives a good report toanumber to be chaste. 
 
 Enter Marina. 
 
 Bawd. Here conies that which grows to the stalk ; 
 — never plucked yet, I can assure you. Is she not 
 a fair creature ! 
 
 Lys. 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage 
 at sea. Well, there's for you; — leave us. 
 
 Bawl. I lieseech your honor, give ine leave ; a 
 word, and I'll have done presently. 
 
 Li/s. I besoech you, do. 
 
 Bawd. First, I would have you note, this is an 
 honorable man. 
 
 [7*0 Marina, wfiom stie takes a.nde. 
 
 Mar. I desire to find him so, that I may worthily 
 nole him. 
 
 Bawd. Next, he is the governor of this country, 
 and a man whom I am bound to. 
 
 Mar. If he govern tlie country, you are bound 
 to him indeed; but how honorable he is in that, 
 I know not. 
 
 Bawd. 'Pray you, without any more virginal 
 fencing, will you use him kindly! He will line 
 your apron with gold. 
 
 Mar. What he will do graciously, I will thank- 
 fully receive. 
 
 Li/s. Have you done ? 
 
 B'aw I. My lord, she's not paced yet ; you must 
 take some pains to work her to your manage. 
 Come, we will le;ive his honor and her together. 
 
 [E.reanI Bawd. Pander, and BoCLT. 
 
 Lijs. Go thy ways.— Now. pretly one, how long 
 have you been at this trade \ 
 
 Mar. What trade, sir? 
 
 Lys. What I cannot name hut I shall offend. 
 
 Mar. I cannot be ot&nded with my trade. Please 
 you to name it. 
 
 Lys. How long have you been of this profession! 
 
 Mar. Kver since I can remember. 
 
 Lys. Did you go to it so young ! "Were you a 
 gamester at hve, or at seven! 
 
 Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. 
 
 Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, proclaims 
 you to be a creature of sale. 
 
 Mar. Do you know this house to be a place of 
 such resort, and will come into itl I hear say, you 
 are of honorable parts, and are the governor of this 
 place. 
 
 Lys. Why, hath your principal made known 
 unto you. who i am ] 
 
 Mar. Wlio is my principal ! 
 
 Lys. Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds 
 and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard 
 something of my power, and so stand aloof for 
 more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty 
 one, my authority shall not see thee, or else look 
 friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some pri- 
 vate place. Come, come. 
 
 * How much? what price? 
 
 Mar. If ye were born to honor, show it now; 
 If juit upon you, make the judgment good 
 That thought you worthy of it. 
 
 Lys. How's thisi how's this! — Some more! — 
 be sage. 
 
 Mar. For me. 
 That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune 
 Hath placed me here wilhin this loathsome sty. 
 Where, since I came, diseases have been sold 
 Dearer than physic, — O that the good gods 
 Would set me Iree from liiis unhallow'd place, 
 Tfiough they did change me to the meanest bird 
 That Hies i' the purer air ! 
 
 Li/s. I did not think 
 
 Thou couldst have spoke so well ; ne'er dream'd 
 
 thou couldst. 
 Had I brought hither a corrupted mind. 
 Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for 
 
 thee : 
 Persever still in that clear way thou goest, 
 And the gods strengthen thee ! 
 
 Mar. 'the gods preserve you ! 
 
 Lys. For me, be you thougliten 
 
 That I came with no ill intent; for to me 
 The very doors and windows savor vilely. 
 Farewell. Thou art a piece of virtue, and 
 I doubt not but thy training hatli been noble. — 
 Hold; here's more gold lor thee.— 
 A curse upon him, die he like a thief. 
 That robs thee of thy goodness I — If thou hear'st 
 
 from me. 
 It shall be for thy good. 
 
 [As LvsiMACiius is putting up Ms Purse, 
 BoL'LT enters. 
 
 Boult. I beseech your honor, one piece for me. 
 
 Li/s. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! Your 
 house, 
 Put for this virgin, that doth prop it up. 
 Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away ! 
 
 [Exit LvsiMAcnrs. 
 
 Boult. How's this ? We must take another course 
 with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not 
 worth a breaklast in the cheapest country under 
 the cope,^ shall undo a whole household, let me be 
 gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways. 
 
 Mar. VVIiithcr would you have me ! 
 
 Boult. I must have your maidenhead taken off, 
 or the common hangman shall execute it. Come 
 your way. We'll have no more gentlemen driven 
 away. Come your ways, I say. 
 
 Re-enter Bawd. 
 
 Bawd. How now! what's the matter! 
 
 Bi'ult. Worse and worse, mistress ; she has here 
 s]niken holy words to the lord Lysimachus. 
 
 Jhitrd. O abominable! 
 
 Buult. She makes our profession, as it were, to 
 stink afore the face of the gods. 
 
 Bawd. Marry, hang lier up forever ! 
 
 Buult. The nobleman would have dealt with her 
 like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as 
 a snowball; saying his prayers too. 
 
 Bawd. Boult, take her away ; use her at thy 
 pleasure : crack the glass of her "virginity, and make 
 the rest malleable. 
 
 Buult. An if she were a thornier piece of ground 
 than slie is, she shall be ploughed. 
 
 Mar. Hark, hark, you gods ! 
 
 Bawl. She conjures: away with her. Would 
 siie had never come within my doors ! Marry hang 
 you! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the 
 way of woman-kind ! Marry come up, my dish of 
 chastity with rosemary and bays ! [Exit Bawd. 
 
 Buult. Come, mistress; come your way with me. 
 
 Mar. Whither would you have me ! 
 
 Buult. To tidie from you the jewel you hold so 
 dear. 
 
 Mar. Pr'ythee, tell mc one thing first. 
 
 Buult. Come now, your one thing 1 
 
 Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? 
 
 Buult. Why, I could wish him to be my master, 
 or rather, my mistress. 
 
 Mar. Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art. 
 Since they do better thee in their command. 
 Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend 
 Ofliell would not in reputation change: 
 Thou'rt the damn'd door-keeper to every coystreis 
 That hither conies inquiring for his tib; 
 
 • Cope or canopy of heaven. e PalUy fellow. 
 
G72 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 To the choleric fisting: of each rogue thy ear 
 
 Is liable; thy very food is such 
 
 As hath been belcli'd on by infected lungs. 
 
 Bimlt. What would you have mc? go to the 
 wars, would you 1 wiiere a man may serve seven 
 years for the loss of a ]et,% and iiave not money 
 enouf2;h in the end to buy him a wooden one? 
 
 Mar. Do any tliinjj; but this thou doest. Empty 
 Old receptacles, common sewers of tilth; 
 Serve by indenture to the common han2:man; 
 Any of these ways are better yet than this : 
 For that which tJiou professest. a baboon, 
 Could he but speak, would own a name too dear: 
 O that the p^ods would salely iVom this place 
 Deliver me'? Here, here is ^old for thee. 
 If that thy master would gain au^ht by me. 
 Proclaim that I can sin;;, weave, sew, and dance, 
 With other virtues, which I'll lieep from boast; 
 
 And I will undertake all these to leach. 
 I doubt not but this populous city will 
 yield many scholars. 
 
 Boiilt. But can you teach all this you speak of? 
 
 ]\Iar. Prove that I cannot, take me home again, 
 And prostitute me to the basest groom 
 That doth frequent your house. 
 
 Bimlt. Well, I will see wiiat I can. do for thee: 
 if I can place thee, I will. 
 
 Mar. Hut amongst lionest women 1 
 
 Boult. 'Faith, my acquanitance lies little amongst 
 them. But since my master and mistress have 
 bought you, there's no going but by their consent; 
 therefore I will make them acquainted with your 
 purpose, and I doubt not but I shall find them trac- 
 table enougii. Come, I'll do for tiiee wJiat I can ; 
 come your ways, 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Ea!cr GoiVER. 
 Cow. Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances 
 Into an honest liousc, our story says. 
 She sinss like one immortal, and she dances 
 As ^o(ldcss-liI<e to lier admired lays: 
 Deep clerks' she dumbs; and witli her nccld^ com- 
 poses 
 Nature's own shape, of bud, hird, branch, or berry ; 
 That even her art sisters tlie natural roses: 
 Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry: 
 Tliat pupils lacks she none of noble race, 
 Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain 
 She gives the cursed bawd. Here we iier place; 
 And to her fotlier turn our thoufrhts again. 
 Where we left him, on tlie sea. We there him lost; 
 Whence, driven before tlie winds, he is arriv'd 
 Here where liis daughter dwells; and on this coast 
 Suppose him now at anolior. Tlie city striv'd 
 God Neptune's annual fe.ist to keep; from whence 
 Lysimachus our Tyrian siiip espies, 
 His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense; 
 And to liim in his barge with fervor hies. 
 In your supposing onrc more put your sight: 
 Of heavy Pericles think this the bark: 
 Where, what is done in action, more, if might, 
 Shall be discover'd; please you, sit, and hark'. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE I.— On board Pericles' Ship, off Jlitylene. 
 A close Faviiiijn nn'Tifck, ivi/h a Curiain before 
 if ; Pericles within it, reclined on a Couch. A 
 Barge lying beside the Tyrian Vessel. 
 
 Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian 
 Vessel, the other to the Barge; to ihemllr.hiCAJivs. 
 
 Tyr. Sail. Where's the lord Helicanns? He can 
 resolve you. [To the Sailor o/'Mitylene. 
 
 O, here he is. 
 
 Sir, there's a barge put off from Mitylene ; 
 And in it is Lysimachus tlie governor, 
 Who craves to come aboard. What is your will 1 
 liel. That he have his. Call up some gentle- 
 men. 
 Tyr. Suit. Ho, gentlemen ! my lord calls. 
 
 £H/er/i(,v) Gentlemen. ■ 
 1 Cent. Doth your lordship call 1 
 Ilel. Gentlemen. 
 Tlieic is some of worth would come aboard ; I pray 
 
 you 
 To greet them fairly. 
 
 [The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, 
 and go on board tlie Barge. 
 
 Enter from thence LYSlMACHrs and Lords; the 
 Tyrian Gentlemen and the two Sailors. 
 
 Tijr. Soil. Sir, 
 This is the man that can, in aught you would, 
 Resolve you. 
 
 Li/s. Hail, reverend sir! The gods preserve j'ou ! 
 
 Het. And you, sir, to outlive the age I am. 
 And die as I would do. 
 
 if/.?. You wish me well. 
 
 Being on shore, honoring oiNcptune's triumphs, 
 ' Learned men. b Xeedle. 
 
 Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, 
 I made to it, to know of whence you are. 
 
 Met. First, sir, what is your placed 
 
 I.ys. I am governor of this place you lie before. 
 
 Het. Sir, 
 Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king ; 
 A man, who for this three months hath not spoken 
 To any one, nor taken sustenance, 
 l!«t to" prorogue' his grief. 
 
 Li/s. Upon what ground is his distcmperature? 
 
 J/p/. Sir, it would be too tedious to repeat; 
 But the main grief of all springs from the loss 
 Of a beloved daughtej; and a wife. 
 
 Li/s. May we not see him, then 1 
 
 Uel. You may, indeed, sir, 
 
 But bootless is your sight; he will not speak 
 To any. 
 
 Lys. Yet, let me obtain my wish. 
 
 Ilel. Behold him, sir: [Pericles discovered.'] 
 this was a goodly person. 
 Till the disaster, that, one mortal night. 
 Drove him to this. 
 
 Lys. Sir, king, all hail ! the gods preserve you ! 
 Hail, 
 Hail, ro>al sir! 
 
 Jiel. It is in vain ; he will not speak to you. 
 
 i Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene, I durst 
 wager. 
 Would win some words of him. 
 
 Lys. 'Tis well bethought, 
 
 She", questionless, with her sweet harninny 
 And other choice attractions, would allure. 
 And make a battery through his deaien'd parts,' 
 Which now are midway slopp'd ; 
 She, all as happy as of all the fairest. 
 Is, with her fellow-maidens, now within 
 The leafy slielter that abuts against 
 The island's side. 
 
 [He whimpers one of the attendant Lords. — 
 Exit Lord, in the Barge r?" Lysimachus. 
 
 Ucl. Sure, all's ellectlcss; yet nothing we'll omit 
 That bears recovery's name. But, since your kind- 
 ness 
 We have stretch'd thus far, let ns beseech you fur- 
 ther, 
 That for our gold we may provision have, 
 Wherein we are not destitute for want. 
 But weary for the stalencss. 
 
 Lys. 0, sir, a courtesy. 
 
 Which if we should deny, the most just God 
 For every gralf would send a cateriiillar. 
 And so iiitlict our province. — Yet once more 
 Let me entreat to know at large the cause 
 Of your king's sorrow. 
 
 ilel. Sit, sir, I will recount it; 
 
 But see, I am prevented. 
 
 Enter, from the Barge, Lord, MxnmA,and a young 
 
 Lady. 
 . Li/s. O, here is 
 
 The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one! 
 Is't not a goodly presence ? 
 Hel. A gallant ladv. 
 
 Lys. She's such, that were I well a.ssur'd she came 
 » To lengthen or prolong his grie£ * ilara 
 
Scene I. 
 
 PERICLES, PRIXCE OF TYRE. 
 
 673 
 
 Of gentle kind, and noble stock, I'd wish 
 No better choice, and think me rarely wed. 
 Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty 
 Expect even here, where is a kingly patient: 
 If that thy prosperous artificial leat 
 Can draw him hut to answer thee in aught, 
 Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay 
 As thy desires cau wish. 
 
 J\tar, Sir, I will use 
 
 My utmost skill in his recovery, 
 Provided none but 1 and my companion 
 Be suller'd to come near him. 
 
 Lvs. Come, let ns leave her, 
 
 And the gods make her prosperous. [Mar. sin^s. 
 
 Lus. Mark'd he your music 1 
 
 Mar N'o, nor looked on us. 
 
 Lys See, she will speak to him. 
 
 Mar. Hail, sir ! my lord, lend car : — 
 
 Per. Hum! ha! 
 
 Mar. I am a maid, 
 
 Aty lord, that neVr belbre invited eyes. 
 But have been gazed on comet-like: she speaks, 
 My lord, that, may be, hath endur'd a grief 
 Migiit equal yours, if both were justly weighM. 
 Though wayward fortune did malign my state. 
 My derivation was from ancestors 
 Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: 
 But time hath rooted out my parentage. 
 And to the world and awkward casualties 
 Bound me in servitude. — I will desist; 
 But there is something glows upon my cheek. 
 And whispers in mine ear, Go not till he speak. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Per. My fortunes — parent^ise — good parentage — 
 To equal mine; — was it not thus ? what say you 1 
 
 Mar. I said, my lord, if you did kjiow my parent- 
 age, 
 You would not do me violence. 
 
 Per. I do think so. 
 
 I pray you turn your eyes again upon me. — 
 You arc hke something that — Whatcountry woman? 
 Here of these siioresl 
 
 Mar. No, nor of any shores : 
 Yet I was mortally brought ibrth, and am 
 No other than I appear. 
 
 Per. I am great with woe, and shall deliver 
 weeping. 
 My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one 
 My daughter might have been: my queen's square 
 
 brows ; 
 Her stature to an inch ; as wand-like straight; 
 As silver-voiced ; her eyes as jewel-hke, 
 And cased as riclily : in pace anotlier Juno; 
 Who starves the cars she feeds, and makes them 
 
 hungry. 
 The more she gives them speech. — Where do you 
 live ! 
 
 Mar. Where I am but a stranger: from the deck 
 You may discern the place. 
 
 Per. Where were you bred ) 
 
 And how achievM you these endowments, which 
 You make more rich to owe 1 
 
 Mar. Should I tell my history, 
 
 'Twould seem like lies disdaiuM in tlie reporting. 
 
 Per. Pr'ythee speak ; 
 Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou look'^st 
 Modest as justice, and thou seeinVt a palace • 
 For the crown'd truth to dwell in : I'll believe thee, 
 And make my senses credit thy relation. 
 To points that seem impossible ; lor thou look'^st 
 Like one I lov'd indeed. Wl)at were Iliy (riends? 
 Pidst thou not say, when I did push thc'e back, 
 (Which was when I perceiv'd thee,) that thou 
 
 cam*st 
 From good descending 1 
 
 Mar. So indeed I did. 
 
 Per. Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st 
 Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong lo injury, 
 And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal 
 
 mine, 
 If both were open'd. 
 
 Mc7\ Some such thing indeed 
 
 I said, and said no more but what my thoughts 
 Did warrant me was likely. 
 
 Per. Tell thy story; 
 
 If thine considcrM prove the thousandth part 
 Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I 
 Have surter'd liKe a girl: yel thou do«i:t look 
 Like Patience, t^azing on king's graves, and snn'ling 
 Eitremity out of act. What were thy liieuds ! 
 4^ 
 
 How lost thou tliem ? Thy name, my most kind 
 
 virgin ? 
 Recount, I do beseech thee ; come, sit by me. 
 
 Mar. My name, sir, is Marina. 
 
 Per. O, I am mockM, 
 
 And thou by some incensed god sent hither 
 To make the world laugh at me. 
 
 Mar. Patience, good sir, 
 
 Or here I'll cease. 
 
 Per. Nay, Til be patient; 
 
 Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me, 
 To call thyself Marina. 
 
 Mar. The name Marina, 
 
 Was given me by one that had some power; 
 My father, and a king. 
 
 Per. How ! a king's daughter T 
 
 And calPd Marina ? 
 
 Mar. You said you W'ould believe me ; 
 
 But. not to be a Iroubler of your peace, 
 I will end here. 
 
 Per. But are you Ilesh and blood ? 
 
 Have you a working pulse ! and are no fairy ? 
 No motion!^ — Well; speak on. Where were you 
 
 born ? 
 And wherelbre caifd Marina 1 
 
 Mar. Caird Marina, 
 
 For I was born at sea. 
 
 Per. At sea ? Thy mother! 
 
 Mar. My mother was the daughter of a king ; 
 Who died "the very minute I was born, 
 As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft 
 Deliver'd weeping. 
 
 Per. O, stop there a little ! 
 
 This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep 
 Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be. 
 My daughter's buried. [Aside.] Well: — where 
 
 ^^el■e you bred ? 
 ril hear you more, to the bottom of your story, 
 And never interrupt you. 
 
 Mar. You'll scarce believe me ; 'twere l>est I did 
 give o'er. 
 
 Per. I will believe you bj' the syllable 
 Of what yo*u shall deliver. Yet, give me leave: — 
 How canieyouin these parts? where were you bred? 
 
 Mar. Tiie king, my fathered id in Tharsus leave me ; 
 Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wiJe, 
 Did seek to murder mo: and having woo'd 
 A villain to attempt it, who having drawn, 
 A crew of pirates came and rescued me; 
 Brought me to Mitylene. But now, good sir, 
 Whither will you I'lavc me? Why do you weep' 
 
 It m:iy lie. 
 You think me an impostor; no, good faith; 
 I am the daughter to king Pericles, 
 If good king Pericles be. 
 
 Per. Ho, Helicanus! 
 
 Hel. Calls mv gracious lord ? 
 
 Per. Thou art a grave and noble counsellor, 
 Most wise in general: Tell me. if thou canst, 
 What this maid is. or what is like to be, 
 TJiat thus hath made me weep? 
 
 liel. I know not; but 
 
 Here is the regent, sir, of Mitylene, 
 Speaks nobly of fier. 
 
 Lys. She would never tell 
 
 Her parentage; being demanded that. 
 She would sit still and weep. 
 
 Per. O Helicanus, strike me, honored sir; 
 Give me a gash, put me to present pain ; 
 Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me, 
 O'erbear the shores of my mortality, 
 And drown me with their sweetness. O, come 
 
 1 lit her, 
 Thou that bcgct'st him that did thee beget: 
 Thou that wast born at sea. buried at Tharsus, 
 And found at sea again ! O Helicanus, 
 Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods, as loud 
 As thunder threatens ns. This is Marina. — 
 What was thy mother's name ? tell me but that, 
 Fo! truth can never be conhrm'd enough, 
 Though doubts did ever sleep. 
 
 Mar. First, sir, I pray, 
 
 Wliat is your title? 
 
 Per. I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now 
 (As in the rest thou hast been godlike perfect) 
 My drown'd queen's name, thou art the heir of 
 
 kingdoms. 
 And anotlier lile to Pericles thy father. 
 
 5 I. e. No puppet dressed up to deceive me. 
 
674 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 Mar. Is it no more lo be 5 our daughter, than 
 To say, my mother's name was Tliaisa! 
 Thaisa w;is my mother, who did end, 
 Tlie minute I began. 
 
 Per. Now, blessing on thee, rise; thou art mv 
 child. ' 
 
 Give me fresh gavmenls. Mine own, Helicanus, 
 (Not dead at Tharsus, as she should have been. 
 By savage Cleon,) she shall tell thee all ; 
 ■\V'hen tliou shall kneel and justify in knowledge, 
 She is thy very princess.— \Vho is tins ! 
 
 Hel. Sir, 'tis the governor of Mitylene, 
 Wlio, hearing of your melancholy state, 
 Bid come to see you. 
 
 Per. I embrace you, sir. 
 
 Give me my robes ; I am wild in my beholding. 
 
 heavens bless my girl I But hark.what music!— 
 Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him 
 
 O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt, 
 How sure you are my daugliter.— But what music'! 
 
 Eel. My lord, I hear none. 
 
 Per. None ? 
 The music of the spheres: List, my Marina. 
 
 Lys. It is not good lo cross hiin; give him way. 
 
 Per. Rarest sounds ! 
 Do ye not hear? 
 
 1-iJs. Music ? my lord, I hear— 
 
 Per. Most heavenly music: 
 It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber 
 Hangs on mine eye-lids; let me rest. {He sleeps. 
 
 Li/s. A pillow lor his head ; 
 \_Tke Viirlain bej'ure the Pavilion ^Pericles 
 is closed. 
 So leave him all.— Well, my companion-friends. 
 If this but answer to my just belief, 
 I'll well remember you. 
 
 [Exeunt LvsiMAcnus, Helicanus, Ma- 
 KINA, and Attendant Lady. 
 
 SCEN'E l\.—The same. Pericles on t/ie Deck 
 asleep ; Diaxa appearing to Mm as in a Vision. 
 
 Bia. Mv temple stands in Epiicsus: hie thee 
 thither. 
 
 And do upon mine altar sacrifice. 
 
 There, when my maiden priests are met to- 
 gether. 
 
 Before the people all, 
 
 Keveal how thou at sea didst lose tliy wife: 
 
 To in. mm thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call, 
 
 And give Ihcm repetition lo the life. 
 
 Peilbrm my bidding, or thou liv'st in woe: 
 
 Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow. 
 
 Awake, and tell tliy dream. [Diana diwppears. 
 Per. Celestial Duin, goddess argeiuine,^ 
 
 1 will obey thee ! — Helicanus ! 
 
 Enter Ltsimacuus, Helicanus, and Marina. 
 Jlel. Sir. 
 
 Per My purpose was for Tharsus, there to 
 strike 
 The inhospitable Cleon; but I am 
 For other service hrst: toward E|ihcsus 
 Turn our blown sails; eftsoons^ I'll lell thee why.— 
 
 [To Helicanus. 
 Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, 
 And give you gold )br such provision 
 As our intents will need I 
 Lijs. With all my heart, sir; and when you 
 come ashore, 
 I have another suit. 
 
 Per. You shall prevail. 
 
 Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems 
 You have been noble towards her. 
 1-ys. Sir, lend your aim. 
 
 Per. Come, my Marina. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Goweh, bejlire the Temple of Diana at 
 Ephesus. 
 Goto. Now our sands are almost run ; 
 More a little, and then done. 
 This, as my last boon, give me 
 (Eor such kindness must relieve me) 
 That jou a]Uly will sujipose 
 What ]iageanl'iy, what k-ai.s, what shows, 
 What niinslrelsy, and pielty din. 
 The regent made in .Miljleli, 
 To greet the king. So he was thrived. 
 That he is jiroinis'd to be wived 
 
 To fair Marina; but in no wise, 
 Till he^ had done his sacrifice. 
 As Dian bade : whereto being bound 
 The interim, pray you, all conlbund.a 
 In feather'd briclhess sails are till'd. 
 And wishes liill out .as they're wiU'd. 
 At Ephesus, the temple see. 
 Our king, and all his company. 
 That he can hither come so soon. 
 Is by your fancy's thankful boon. 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 » i. e Kegont of the silver moon. 
 
 ' Soon. 
 
 SCENE Ul.—The Temple cf Diana at Ephesus: 
 TiiAiSA stanilbif; near the Altar, us High- 
 Prustess; a number of Virgins on each side; 
 Cerimon and other Inhabitants of Ephesus at 
 tending. 
 
 Enter Pericles, ivith fiis Train; Lysimachus, 
 Helicanus, Marina, and a Lady. 
 
 Per. Hail, Dian; to perforin thy just command 
 I here conti?ss myself the king of Tyre ; 
 Who, frighted from my country, did wed 
 The fair Thaisa. at Pentapolis. 
 At sea in child-bed died she; but brought forth 
 A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess. 
 Wears yet thy silver livery.'; She at Tharsus 
 Was nurs d with Cleon; whom at fourteen years 
 He sought to murder: but her better stars 
 Brought her to Milylene; against whose shore 
 Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us. 
 Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she 
 Made known herself my daughter. 
 
 'Pttai. Voice and favor ! — 
 
 Y'ou are— you are— royal Pericles ! [She faints. 
 
 Per. What means the woman? she dies! help, 
 gentlemen! 
 
 Cer. Noble sir. 
 If J ou have told Diana's altar true, 
 This is your wife. 
 
 ■P""' Reverend appearer, no; 
 
 I threw hero'erboard with these very arms. 
 
 Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you. 
 
 ■''f ' 'Tis most certain. 
 
 Ler. Look to the lady ;— O, she's but o'eijoy'd. 
 Early, one blust'ring morn, this lady was 
 Tlirown on this shore. I oped the cofhn, and 
 Found there rich jewels; rccover'd her and placed 
 
 her 
 Here in Diana's temple. 
 
 -f «'■• May we see them ? 
 
 Cer, Great sir, they shall be brought you to my 
 house, 
 Wliither I invite you. Look! Thaisa is 
 Rccover'd. 
 
 Thai. O, let me look ! 
 If he be none of mine, my sanctity 
 Will to my senses bend no licentious ear, 
 But curb It spite of seeing. O, my lord. 
 Are you not Pericles? Like him you speak. 
 Like him you are : Did you not name a tempest, 
 A birth, and death ? 
 
 -?■'"•■ The voice of dead Thaisa ! 
 
 Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead, 
 And drown'd. 
 
 Per. Immortal Dian! 
 
 'J'hai. Now I know you better. — 
 
 Wlien we with tears parled Pentapolis, 
 The king, my fallicr, gave you sucli a ring. 
 
 [ Shiiws a ring. 
 
 Per. This, this: no more, you gods! your pre- 
 sent kindness 
 Makes my past mi.series sport: You shall do well, 
 That on the touching of her lips I may 
 Melt, and no more be seen. O come, be buried 
 A second time within these arms. 
 
 Mar. My heart 
 
 Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. 
 
 [KnceLs to Thaisa. 
 
 Per. Look, who kneels here ! Flesh of thy tlesh, 
 Thaisa : 
 Thy burden at the .sea, and call'd Marina, 
 For she was yielded there. 
 
 Thai. Blcss'd and mine own ! 
 
 Ji/7. Hail, madam, and my queen ! 
 
 'Thai. I know you not. 
 
 Per. You have heard me say, when I did Ily 
 liom Tyre, 
 I left behind an ancient substitute. 
 
 ' /. e. Pericles. e Confound here signifies to consume. 
 ^ I. c. Her white robe of innocence. • iSensuid passion. 
 
Scene 111. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 675 
 
 Can you remember what I call'd the man'! 
 I l)ave named him oft. 
 
 J'hdi. 'Twas Helicanus then. 
 
 Per. Still confirmation: 
 Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. 
 Now do I long to hear how you were found ; 
 How possibly preserv'd ; an"d whom to tliank, 
 Besides Ihe gods, for this great miracle. 
 
 Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord ; this man 
 Through whom the gods have shown their power; 
 
 that can 
 From first to last resolve you. 
 
 Pg!-, Reverend sir, 
 
 The gods can have no mortal officer 
 More like a god than you. Will jou deliver 
 How this dead queen re-lives! 
 
 Cer. I will, my lord. 
 
 Beseech you, first go with me to my house, 
 Where shall be shown you all was Ibund with 
 
 her; 
 How she came placed here within the temple, 
 No needful thing omitted. 
 
 Per. Pure Dian ! 
 
 I bless thee for thy vision, and will Oder 
 My night oblations to thee. Thaisa, 
 This prince, the fair-belrothed of your daughter, 
 Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now. 
 This ornament" that makes me look so dismal, 
 Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form ; 
 And what this fourteen yearsno razor touch d, 
 To grace tliy marriage day, I'll beautify. 
 
 > i. e. His buAixL 
 
 T/iai. Lord Cerinion hath letters of good credit, 
 Sir, tliat my lather's dead. 
 
 Per. Heavens make a star of him ! Yet there, 
 my queen. 
 We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves 
 Will in that kingdom spend our following days ; 
 Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. 
 Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 To hear the rest untold.— Sir, lead the way^ 
 
 Enter Gower. 
 Gow. In Antioch,' and his daughter, you have 
 heard 
 Of monstrous lust the due and just reward : 
 In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen 
 (Although assaii'd witJi fortune tierce and keen) 
 virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, 
 Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last. 
 In Helicanus may you well descry 
 A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty : 
 In reverend Cerimon there well appears 
 The worth that learned charity aye wears. 
 For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame 
 Had spread their cursed deed, and honoi'd name 
 Of Pericles, to rage the city turn, 
 Tliat him and his they in his palace burn. 
 The gods for murder seemed so content 
 To punish them ; although not done, but meant. 
 So on your patience evermore attending. 
 New joy wait on you ! Here our play has ending. 
 
 [Exit GOKEB. 
 • i «. The king of Antiocb. 
 
KING LEAR. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Lear, King of Britain. 
 
 King of France. 
 
 Dike of Burgcxdv. 
 
 Duke of Cornwall. 
 
 Dike of Albany. 
 
 Earl of Kent. 
 
 Eakl of Glosteb. 
 
 Edcar, Sim tn Gloster. 
 
 EoMLND, Basfaril tiun to Gloster. 
 
 CuRAN. a Courtier. 
 
 Ol'l Man. Tenant to Gloster. 
 
 Phijiiiiun. 
 
 Font. 
 
 Oswald, Steivanl to Goneril. 
 
 An Officer, eniplmjed by Edmund. 
 
 Uciitlcinan, Attendant on Cordelia. 
 
 A Herald. 
 
 Servants to Cornwall. ' 
 
 Goneril, 5 
 Regan, [ Dauglit, 
 Cordelia, ) 
 
 'ers to Leah. 
 
 Knigtits attending on the King. Officers, Messen- 
 gers, Soldiers, and Atteniiants. 
 
 SCENE, Britain. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Room of Slate in King Lear's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Kent, Gloster, cmd Edmund. 
 
 Kent. I thought the king had more aflfected the 
 duke of Albany, than Cornwall. 
 
 Gin. It did always seem so to us; hut now, in 
 the division of the kingdom, it appears not which 
 of the dukes lie values most j for equalities are so 
 wcigh'd that curiosityi in neither can make choice 
 of eitlier's moiety.- 
 
 Kent. Is this your son, my lord 1 
 
 <!lo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge; I 
 have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now 
 I am brazed to it. 
 
 Kent. I cannot conceive you. 
 
 (Slo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could: 
 whereupon she grew round-wonibcd : and had, in- 
 deed, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a hus- 
 band lor her bed. Do you smell a fault? 
 
 Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue 
 of it being so proper. 
 
 Ctt). But I have, sir, a son, by order of law. some 
 year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my 
 acoouut: tliough tliis knave came somewhat saucily 
 into llie world heJore he was sent for, yet was his 
 molherfair: there was good sport at his making, 
 and tbo whoreson must beackuowledged. — Do you 
 know this noble gentleman, Edmund? 
 
 Edni. No, my lord. 
 
 ill". My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter 
 as my honorable friend. 
 
 Kilin. My services to your lordship. 
 
 Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you 
 
 Kihn. Sir, I shall study deserving. 
 (.ilo. He hath been out nine years, and away he 
 shall again .-—The king is coming. 
 
 [Trumpets sound within. 
 
 Enter Lear, Cornwall, Alrany, Goneril, 
 Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants. 
 Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, 
 Gloster. ' 
 
 ' Most Ecnipulous nk*oty. 
 
 676 
 
 2 Part or division. 
 
 Clo. I shall, my liege. 
 
 [Exeunt Gloster and Edmitn-d. 
 Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker 
 purpose. 
 Give me the map there.— Know, that we have di- 
 vided. 
 In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent 
 To shake all cares and business from our age: 
 Conferring them on younger strengths, while we 
 Unburden'd crawl toward death. — Our son of 
 
 Cornwall, 
 And you, our no less loving son of Albany. 
 We have this hour a constant will to publish 
 Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife 
 May be prevented now. The princes, France and 
 
 Burgundy, 
 Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love. 
 Long in our court liavc made their amorous sojourn. 
 And here are to be answer'd.— Tell me, my daugh- 
 ters, 
 (Since now we will divest us, both of rule. 
 Interest of territorv, cares of state,) 
 Whicli of you, shall we say, doth love us most? 
 That we our largest bounty may extend 
 Where merit doth most challenge it.— Goneril, 
 Our eldest-born, speak first. 
 
 Gon. Sir, I 
 
 Do love you more than words can wield the matter, 
 Dearer than eyesight, sjmce, and liberty ; 
 Beyond what can he valued, rich, or rare ; 
 No less thanlife.with grace, health, beauty, honor: 
 As much as child e'er lov'd, or lather found. 
 Aleve that makes breath poor, and speech unable: 
 Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 
 Cor. What shall Cordelia do? love, and be silent. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to 
 this, 
 Wilh shadowy forests and with chnmpains' rich'd, 
 With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads. 
 We make thee lady : To thine and Albany's issue 
 Be this perpetual.— What says our second daughter, 
 Our dearest Regan, wife (o Cornwall ? .Speak; 
 Keg. I am made of that self metal as my sister, 
 » Open plains. 
 
Act I. Scene I 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 077 
 
 And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 
 
 I find, she names my very deed of love ; 
 
 Only she comes too short.— That I profess 
 
 Myself an enemy to all other joys, 
 
 VV'hich the most precious square^ of sense possesses ; 
 
 And find, I am alone felicitate^ 
 
 In your dear highness' love. 
 
 Cor. Then poor Cordelia ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's 
 More richer than my tonsiue. 
 
 Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever. 
 Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom : 
 No less in space, validity.'^ and pleasure. 
 Than that confirm'd on Goneril.— Now, our joy, 
 Altliough the last, not least; to whose young love 
 The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, 
 Strive to be interess'd: what can you say to draw 
 A third more opulent than your sisters ] Speak. 
 
 Cor. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Lear. Nothing! 
 
 Cor. Nothing. 
 
 Lear. Nothing can come of nothing : speak again. 
 
 Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 
 My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty 
 According to my bond ; nor more nor less. 
 
 Lear. How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a 
 little. 
 Lest it may mar your fortunes. 
 
 Cor. Good my lord, 
 
 You have begot me, hrcd me, lov'd me ; I 
 Keturn those duties back as are right fit, 
 0!)ey you, love you, and most honor you. 
 Why have my sisters husbands, if they say. 
 They love 50U all 1 Haply, when I shall wed, 
 Tha'tlord.whose hand must takemyplight.shallcarry 
 Half my love with him, half my care, and duty: 
 Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, 
 To love my father ail. 
 
 Lear. But goes this with thy heart! 
 
 Cor. Ay, good my lord. 
 
 Lear. So young, and so untender ! 
 
 Cor. So young, my lord, and true. 
 
 I^ear. Letitbeso,— Thy truth then be thy dower: 
 For, by the sacred radiance of the sun ; 
 The niysteries of Hecate, and the night; 
 By all tlie operations of the orbs, 
 l-'rom whom we do exist, and cease to be ; 
 Here I disclaim all my paternal care. 
 Propinquity," and property of blood. 
 And as a stranger to my heart and me 
 Hold thee, from this'* forever. The barbarous 
 
 Scythian, 
 Or he that makes his generation^ messes 
 To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
 Be as well ncighbor'd, pitied, and reliev'd, 
 As thou, my sometime daughter. 
 
 Keiil. Good my liege,— 
 
 Lear. Peace, Kent ! 
 Come not between the dragon and his wrath : 
 I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest 
 On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my 
 sight!— [roCoKDELiA. 
 
 So be my grave my peace, as here I give 
 Her father's heart from her! — Call France; — Who 
 
 stirs ! 
 Call Burgundy.— Cornwall, and Albany, 
 With my two daughters' dowers digest this third: 
 Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
 I do invest you jointly with my power. 
 Pre-eminence, and all tlie large cllects 
 That troop with majesty. — Ourself, by monthly 
 
 course. 
 With reservation of an hundred knights, 
 By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode 
 IVlake with you by due turns. Only we still retain 
 The name, and all the additions^ to a king ; 
 The sway. 
 
 Revenue, execution of the rest. 
 Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm. 
 This coronet part'between you. [Gii'ing the crown. 
 
 Kent. RoyalLear, 
 
 Whon". I have ever honor'd as my king, 
 Lov'd as my father, as my master foUow'd, 
 As my great patron thought on in my prayers, — 
 
 iear.The bow is bent and drawn, make trom 
 the shaft. 
 
 * Comprehetisinn. ' Made bappv. " Value. 
 
 » Kiudred. • From this time. 9 ilis children. ^ Titles. 
 
 Kent. Let it tail rather, though the fork invade 
 The region of my heart : be Kent uimiannerly, 
 When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old 
 
 man ! 
 Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, 
 When power to flattery bows ! To plairmess ho- 
 nor's bound. 
 When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom ; 
 And, in thy best consideration, check 
 This hideous rashness ; answer my life my judg- 
 ment. 
 Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; 
 Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound 
 Ileverbs^ no lioUowness. 
 
 I^ar. Kent, on thy life, no more. 
 
 Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn 
 To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it, 
 Thv safety being the motive. 
 
 Lear. Out of mv sight ! 
 
 Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain 
 The true blank^ of thine eye. 
 
 Lear. Now, by Apollo, — 
 
 Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, 
 
 Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. 
 
 Lear. O, vassal, miscreant ! 
 
 [Laywg /lis Hand mi kis sword, 
 
 Alh. Corn. Dear sir, forbear. 
 
 Kent. Do ; 
 Kill (hy iibysiei.an, and the fee bestow 
 Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift: 
 Or whilst 1 can vent clamor from my throat, 
 ril tell thee thou dost evil. 
 
 Lear. Hear me, recreant ! 
 
 On thine allegiance hear me ! — 
 Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, 
 (Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd 
 
 pride. 
 To come betwixt our sentence and our power; 
 {Which nor our nature, nor our place can bear ;) 
 Our potency make good, take thy reward. 
 Five davs we do allot thee, for provision 
 To shield thee from diseases of the world: 
 And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back 
 Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day ti)llowing 
 Tliy lianish'd trunk be (bund in our dominions. 
 The moment is thy death : Away ! By Jupiter, 
 This shall tiot be revok'd. 
 
 Kent. Fare thee well, king : since thus thou wilt 
 appear. 
 Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. — 
 The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 
 
 [To ConDELIA. 
 
 That justly think'st, and hast most riglitly said ! — 
 .-Vnd your large speeches may your deeds approve, 
 [ To Regan and Gu.nebil. 
 That good elTects may spring from words of love. — 
 Tims Kent, O princes, bids jou all adieu; 
 He'll shape his old course ma country new, [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Glostek; xoilli France, Borguxdt, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. 
 
 Lear. Mv lord of Hujgundy, 
 We first address towards jon. who with this king 
 Hath rivalfd for our daugliler; What, in the least, 
 Will you require in present dower with her, 
 Or cease your quest of love ! 
 
 Bur. Most royal majesty 
 
 I crave no more than hath your highness olli^r'd, 
 Nor will you tender less. 
 
 Lear. Right noble Burgundy 
 
 When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; 
 But n«*w her price is faJl'n : Sir, there she stands; 
 If auglit wittnn that little seeming substance, 
 Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced. 
 And nothing more, may fitly like your grace. 
 She's there, and she is yours. 
 
 Bur. I know no answer. 
 
 Lear. Sir, 
 Will you, with those infirmities she owes,^ 
 Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, 
 Dower'd with our curse, and straiiger'd with oui 
 
 oath. 
 Take her, or leave her \ 
 
 Bur. Pardon me, royal sir ; 
 
 Election makes not up on such conditions. 
 
 » Itevorbor,ites. 
 
 * Owns, is possessed of. 
 
 > The mark to shoot at 
 
Ltar. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power 
 tliiit made me, 
 I tell you all her wealth.— For you, great king, 
 
 [To FUANCE. 
 
 I would not from your love make such a stray, 
 To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you 
 To avert your liking a more worthier way, 
 Tlian on a wretch wliom nature is asliamed 
 Almost to acknowledge hers. 
 
 France. This is most strange ! 
 
 That she, that even but now was your best object, 
 Tlie arnnment of your praise, balm of your age. 
 Most bi'st, most dearest, should in this trice of time 
 Counnif a tiling so monstrous to dismantle 
 So many folds of favor ! .Sure, her oIlcMice 
 IMust In' of such ujmatural degree. 
 That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection 
 Fall into taint: wbicii to believe other. 
 Must be a fiith, that reason without miracle 
 Could never plant in me. 
 
 Cia: t yet beseech your m.ajcsty, 
 
 (If foi-i I want that glib and oily art, 
 To^peakand purpose not; since what I well intend, 
 I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known 
 it is no vicious blot, murder, orfoulness, 
 No unchaste action or dishonor'd step. 
 That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favor: 
 But even for want of that, for which I am richer ; 
 A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue 
 That I am glad I have not, though not to have it, 
 lialh lost me in your liking. 
 
 Lear. Better thou 
 
 Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me 
 better. 
 France. Is it but this ? a tardiness in nature, 
 Which ollcn leaves the history unspoke. 
 That It intends to do ^— My lord of Burgundy, 
 What say you to the lady X Love is not love, 
 Wlien it is mingled with respects, Ihat stand 
 Aloof Irom the entire point. Will you have her 1 
 She is herself a dowry. 
 
 Bur. Royal Lear, 
 
 r.ive but that portion which yourself propos'd, 
 And here I lake Ccurielia by the hand, 
 Duchess of Burgundy. 
 J.riir. Nothing : I have sworn ; I am firm. 
 Bur. I am sorry then, }ou have so lost a father, 
 Thiit you must lose a husband. 
 
 Car. Peace be with Burgundy! 
 
 Since that respects of fortune arc his love, 
 I shall not be his wile. 
 France. Fairest Cordelia, thou art most rich, 
 being poor; 
 Most choice, forsaken ; and most lov'd, de.spis'd ! 
 'J'bee and thy virtues here I seize upon: 
 lie It lawful, 1 take up what's cast away. 
 Gods, gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st 
 
 neglect 
 My love should kindle to inflamed respect. — 
 Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance. 
 Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France : 
 Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy 
 Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me. — 
 Bid them farewell, Cordelia ; though unkind : 
 Thou losest here, a better where to find. 
 Lear. Thou hast her, France : let her be thine ; 
 for we 
 Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see 
 That face of hers again : — Therefore be gone, 
 Without our grace, our love, our benizon.'"— 
 Come, noble Burgundy. 
 
 [Flourith. Exeunt Lear, BtmocNDT, Cornwall, 
 
 Aldanv, Gloster, and Attendants. 
 France. Bid farewell to your sisters. ^ 
 Cirr. The jewels of our lather, with wash d eyes 
 Conlclia leaves you ; I know you what you are ; 
 And, like a sister, am most loath to call 
 Vour fiiiilts.as they arc named. Use well our father: 
 To )our professed bosoms I commit him: 
 But ye(, alas! stood I within his grace, 
 I would jirefer him to a better place. 
 So liirewell to you both. 
 Oon. Prescribe not us our duties. 
 lleg. Let your study 
 
 Be, to content your lord ; who halh receiv'd you 
 At lortniie's alms. You have obedience scanted. 
 And v^■cll are worth the want that you have 
 wanted. 
 t Because. ^ Blessing. 
 
 Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cunning 
 hides; 
 Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. 
 Well may you prosper! 
 
 I'rance. Come, my fair Cordelia. 
 
 [Exeunt France ami Cordelia. 
 
 Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say, of 
 what most nearly appertains to us both. I think, 
 our father will hence to-night. 
 
 Reg. That's most certain, and with you; nexi 
 month with us. 
 
 Can. You see how full of changes his age is: the 
 observation we have made of it hath not been little: 
 he always lov'd our sister most; and wilh what 
 poor judgment he hath now cast her offappcars too 
 grossly. 
 
 RcK- 'Tis the infirmity of his age : yet he hath 
 ever but slenderly known himself. 
 
 Con. The best and soundest of his time hath 
 been but rash ; then must we look to receive from 
 his age, not alone the imperfections of long-en- 
 grafted condition,'' but therewithal, the unruly way- 
 wardness that infirm and choleric years bring with 
 them. 
 
 Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have 
 from him, as this of Kent's banishment. 
 
 Gun. There is further compliment of leave-taking 
 between France and him. Pray you, let us hit 
 together: If our lather carry authority wilh such 
 dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his 
 will but otttsnd us. 
 
 Reg. We shall further think of it. 
 
 Gon. We must do something, and i' the heat. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Hall in the Earl of Gloster's 
 
 Cattle. 
 
 Enter Edml'nd, with a Letter. 
 
 Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law 
 My services are bound: Wherefore shoukl I 
 Su'ind in the plague of custom; and peiinit 
 The curiosity*^ of nations to deprive me. 
 For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines 
 Lagofa brother? Why bastard? wherefore base! 
 When my dimensions arc as well compact 
 My mind as generous, and my shape as true. 
 As honest madam's issue 1 Why brand they us 
 With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base! 
 Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
 More composition and fierce quality. 
 Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 
 Go to file creating a whole tribe of fops. 
 Got 'tween asleep and wake ?— Well then. 
 Legitimate P^dgar, I must have your land : 
 Our lather's love is to the bastard Edmund, 
 As to the legitimate: Fine word,— legitimate ! 
 Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed. 
 And my' invention thrive, Edmund the base 
 Shall top the legitimale. I grow; I prosper:— 
 Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Ghi. Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler 
 parted ! 
 And the king goneto-night! subscribedshis power! 
 Confined to exhibition !' All this done 
 
 Upon the gad !-^ Edmund! How now? what 
 
 news? 
 
 Edm. So please your lordship, none. 
 
 [Putting up the Letter. 
 
 Gin. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that 
 letter? 
 
 Edm. I know no news, my lord. 
 
 Glu. What paper were yo'u readir?': 
 
 Eitm. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Glo. No? What needed then that terrible de- 
 spatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing 
 halh not such need to hide itself". Let's see: Come, 
 if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. 
 
 Edm. 1 beseech you, sir, pardon me: itisaletter 
 from my brother, that I have not all o'er read ; for 
 so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your 
 over-looking. 
 
 Glu. Give me the letter, sir. 
 
 Edm. I shall ollend, either to detain or give it. 
 The contents, as in part I understand them, are to 
 blame. 
 
 1 QuiilitiBS of mind. ' The nioity of civil institution. 
 
 • Yleklcit, surrendored. i Allowance. " Suadenly 
 
Scene" III. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 679 
 
 Gin. Let's sec, let s see. 
 
 Edm. I liorc tbr my brother s justification, he 
 wrote this but as :in ossay^ or taste of my virtue. 
 
 Olo. [Reads.] This piilici/. and reverence uf age, 
 makes 1,'ie uyrrld Inller la the hcsl nfuur timex; keeps 
 oiirjurtunrs friiiii us, till mir iildness rinniiil rclisll 
 t/ieiii. Ibeiun In find nn idle and J\ind< hnndm^e in 
 /he (ipijnssiiin ij aised ti/ranni/ ; udin swiiys. not as 
 it hi:th pawer, hut aJi it is suffered. Ciniie lu ate, that 
 eflhls I may speak more. If our father W(nild sleep 
 till I waked him. you sftould enjmj Italfliix revenue 
 for ever, and lii-e the belvved <f yaiir briither, 
 Edgar.— Iluuiph— Conspiracy '.—Sleep till I waked 
 him—ijou should eiijiu/ hit ,hvi revenue.— My son 
 Edgar! had he a liaiid t.i «ritc this? a heart and 
 bram to breed it in?— When came tliis to you! 
 Wlio brought It ! 
 
 Edm. It was not brouglit me. my lord, tliere's 
 the cunningolit; I found it thrown in at the case- 
 ment of my closet. . , , , 
 Gin. You knowthecharactertobcyourbrother s ! 
 Elm. M llie matter were good, my lord. 1 durst 
 swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would 
 fain think it were not. 
 Glo. It is his. 
 
 Edm. It is liis hand, my lord; but, I hope, his 
 heart is not in the contents. 
 
 Cln. Hatli lie never heretofore sounded you in 
 this business ? 
 
 Edm. Never, my lord : But I have often heard 
 liim maintain it to be lit, that sons at perfect age, 
 and fathers-declining, the father should be as ward 
 to the son, and the son manage his revenue. 
 
 Glo. villain, villain!— His very opinion in the 
 letter !—Abhiirrcd villain! Unnatural, detested, 
 brutish villain! worse than brutish !—(",o, sirrah, 
 seek liiin; I'll apprehend him :— Abominable vil- 
 lain ! — Where is he ! 
 
 Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall 
 please you to suspend your indignation against 
 my brother, till \ou can derive from him better tes- 
 timony ol his intent, you shall run a certain course; 
 wherc,5 if you violently proceed against him, mis- 
 taking his purpose, it would make a great gap in 
 your "own honor, and shake in pieces the heart of 
 ills obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, 
 that he hath writ this to feel my allection to your 
 honor, and to no other pretence of danger. 
 <;/o. Think you so 1 
 
 Edm. It yoiir honor judge it meet, I will place 
 you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by 
 an auricular assurance have yoursalisfaction ; and 
 that without any further delay than this very 
 evening. 
 
 Gin. He cannot be such a monster. 
 Edm. Nor is not, sure. 
 
 Gin. To his father, lliat so tenderly and cntirel 
 loves him. — Heaven and earth ! — Edmund 
 him out; wind me into him, I pray you: frame the 
 business after your own wisdom : I would unstate 
 myseli; to be in a due resolution. 
 
 'Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently ; convey« the 
 business as I shall find means, and acquaint you 
 withal. 
 
 Gin. These late eclipses in the sun and moon 
 portend no good to us : Thougli the wisdom of 
 nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds 
 itself scourged by the sequent' ertects : love cools, 
 Irieiidship falls olf, brothers divide : in cities, mu- 
 tinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason ; 
 and the bond cracked between son and father. 
 This villain of mine comes under the prediction; 
 there's son against father: the king liills from bias 
 of nature ; there's father agftinst child. We liave 
 seen the best of our time: Machinations, hollow- 
 ress, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us 
 disquielly to our graves!— Find out this villain, 
 Edmund, it shall lose thee nothing ; do it carelully : 
 —And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished ! 
 his ollcnce, honesty !— Strange ! strange ! [Exit. 
 Edm. This is the excellent (bppery of the world ! 
 that when we arc sick in fortune, (often the surfeit 
 of our own beliaviour,) we make guilty of our dis- 
 asters, the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we 
 were villains by nccessitv ; fools, by heavenly 
 compulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treachers,» by 
 spherical predominance ; drunkards,liars,and adul- 
 terers, by an enlbrccd obedience of planetary in- 
 » Trial. ' Kenk and foolisb. ' Wheie.is. 
 
 • JIauagc. ' i'oUoiving. • Traitors. 
 
 ftuence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine 
 thrusting on : An admirable evasion of whoremas- 
 tcr man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge 
 of a star! My liither compounded with my mother 
 under the dragon's tail; and my nativity was un- 
 der iirsa major; .so that it follows, I am rough and 
 lecherous. — Tut, I should have been that I am, had 
 the niaidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on 
 my bastardizing. Edgar — 
 
 i'H to- Edgar. 
 and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old 
 comedy: My cue is villainous melancholy, with a 
 sigh like Tom o'Uedlam.— 0. these eclipses do 
 portend these divisions! la, sol, la, mi.' 
 
 r,i,y TTnw now brother Rilinnnd? Wh'atserious 
 
 ely 
 cek 
 
 £(/«■. How now, brother Edmund? 
 contemplation arc you in ? 
 
 Edni. 1 am thinking, brother, of a prediction I 
 read this other day, what should Ibliuw these 
 eclipses. 
 Edg. Do you busy yourself with that? 
 Edm. I promise you, the etlects he writes of, 
 succeed unhappily; as of unnaturalness between 
 the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolu- 
 tions of ancient amities ; divisions in state, menaces 
 and maledictions against king and nobles; needless 
 diliidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of 
 cohorts.i nuptial breaches, and 1 know not what. 
 
 Eilg. How long have you been a sectary astro- 
 nomical ! 
 
 Edm. Come, come : when saw you my father 
 last ! 
 
 Edg. Why, the night gone by. 
 Edm. Spake you with him? 
 Edg. Ay, two hours together. 
 Edin. Parted you in good terms? Found you 
 no displeasure in him, by word or countenance? 
 Edg. None at all. 
 
 Eilni. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have 
 ollended him : and, at my entreaty, Ibrbear his pre- 
 sence, till some little time hath qualified the heat 
 of his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth 
 in him, tliat with the mischief of your person it 
 would scarcely allay. 
 Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. 
 Edm. That's my fear. 1 pray you, have a con- 
 tinent-i forbearance, till the speed of his rage goes 
 slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, 
 Irom whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord 
 speak: Pray you, go; there's my key :— If you do 
 stir abroad, go armed. 
 Edg. Armed, brother? 
 
 Edm. Brother, 1 advise you to the best: go 
 armed; I am no honest man, if there be any good 
 meaning towards you : I have told you what I have 
 seen and heard, but faintly; nothing hke the image 
 and horror of it : Pray you, away. 
 Edg. Shall I hear trom you anon? 
 Edm. I do serve you in this business.— 
 
 [Exit Edgar. 
 A credulous father, and a brother nolile. 
 Whose nature is so lar from doing harms. 
 That he suspects none; on whose Ibolish honesty 
 My practices ride easy!— I see the business.- 
 Le't me, if not by birth, have lands by wit: 
 All with me's meet, that I can fashion fit. [Exit. 
 
 l Room in the Duke of Albany's 
 Palace. 
 Enter Goneril and Steward. 
 Did my father strike my gentleman for 
 chiding of his fool? 
 Stew. Ay, madam. 
 
 Gon. By day and night! he wrongs me; every 
 hour. 
 He flashes into one gross crime or other. 
 That sets us all at odds : I'll not endure it : 
 His knights grow riotous, and himself unoraids us 
 On every tritle:— When he returns from hunting, 
 I will not speak with him ; say, I am sick:— 
 if you come slack of former services, 
 'You shall do well ; the liiult of it I'll answer. 
 Slew. He's coming, madam ; I hear him. 
 
 [Horns within. 
 Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, 
 Y'ou and your fellows ; I'd have it come to question: 
 If he dislike it, let him to my sister. 
 Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, 
 s These snunds .ire unn.itural .tnd offensire in music. 
 » For cohorts some ethtors read courts. > Tempt-rate. 
 
 SCENE III.- 
 
 Con. 
 
Not to be overruled. Idle old man. 
 That still would manage those authorities. 
 That he hath given away! — Now, by my life, 
 Old fools are babes again; and must be used 
 With checks, as flatteries, — when they are seen 
 
 abused. 
 Remember what I have said. 
 
 ^few. Very well, madam. 
 
 Gon. And let his knights have colder looks 
 
 among you ; 
 What grow30t'it,no matter; advise your fellows so: 
 I would breed from hence occaj^ions, and I .shall, 
 That I may speak. — TU write slraight to my sister, 
 To htvld my very course: — Prepare lor dinner. 
 
 [E.reunL 
 
 SCENE IV.— .4 Hall in the same. 
 Enter Kent, disguised. 
 Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, 
 That can my speech dilluse,^ my good intent 
 I^Iay carry through itself to that full issue 
 For which I razM^ my likeness. — Now, banish'd 
 
 Kent, 
 I fthou canst senewli ere thou dost stand condemnM, 
 (So may it come!) thy master, whom tJiou lov'st, 
 Shall find thee full of labors. 
 
 Horns unthin. Enter Lear, Knight-s, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner: go, get 
 it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How now, wjiat 
 art tliou ? 
 
 Kfnt. A man. sir. 
 
 Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst 
 thou with usi 
 
 Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to 
 serve iiim truly, that will put me in trust; to love 
 him that is honest; to converse with him that is 
 wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to light, 
 when I cannot choose ; and to eat no fish. 
 
 I^ear. What art thou ? 
 
 Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor 
 as the king. 
 
 Liar. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is 
 for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst 
 thou 7 
 
 Kent. Service. 
 
 Lear. Who wouldst thou serve 1 
 
 Kent. You. 
 
 Lear. Dost thou know me. fellow? 
 
 Kent. No, sir; but you have that in j'our coun- 
 tennnce, which I would tain call master. 
 
 Lear. What's that '! 
 
 Kent. Authority. 
 
 Lear. What services canst thou do] 
 
 Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar 
 a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain mes- 
 sage blnnlly: that wj)ich ordinary men are fit for, 
 I am qualified in ; and the best of me is diligence. 
 
 Lrar. How old art tJiou ] 
 
 Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for 
 singing; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing: 
 I have years on my back forty-eight. 
 
 Lear, Follow me; thou slialt serve me: if I like 
 thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee 
 yet. — Dinner, ho, dinner! — Where's my knave] 
 my tool] Go you, and call my fool hither: 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 Yon, yon, sirrah, where 's my daughter 1 
 
 Steiv. So please yon, — [Exit. 
 
 /.«/?■. What says the follow there] Call the clut- 
 poll back.— Where's my fool, ho]— I think the 
 world's asleep. — How now, where's that mongrel! 
 
 Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not 
 well. 
 
 Lrar. Why came not the slave back to me, when 
 r ciiird him] 
 
 Kui^^ht. Sir, he answcr'd me in the roundest 
 manner, he would not. 
 
 Lear. He would not! 
 
 Knig/if. My lord, I know not what the matter is; 
 but. to my judgment, yuiir higl)ness is not enter- 
 tainVi Willi that ccrcMuniious allection as you were 
 wont; there-s a great abatement of kindness ap- 
 pears, as well in the gciirml dependants, as in the 
 duke himself also, and vour daughter. 
 
 Lear. Ha! say'st thnii so] 
 
 Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if 
 » Disorder, disguise. 4 Effaced. 
 
 I be mistaken ; for my duty cannot be silent, when 
 I think your highness is wrong'd. 
 
 Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine own 
 conception; I have perceived a most faint neglect 
 of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own 
 jealous curiosity,^ than as a very pretence.^ and 
 purpose of unklndncss: 1 will look further into't. 
 — But Where's my fool] I have not seen him this 
 two days. 
 
 Knight. Since my young lady's going into 
 France, sir, the Ibol hath much pined away. 
 
 Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well.— 
 Go, you, and tell my daughter 1 would speak tvilh 
 her. — Go you, call hither my fool. — 
 
 Re-enter Steward. 
 O,you sir, you sir, come you hither: Who am I, sir \ 
 Stew, My ladyVs father. 
 
 Lear. My lady's lather! my lord's knave: you 
 whoreson dog I you slave ! you cur ! 
 
 Stew. I am none of this, my lord; I beseech you, 
 pardon me. 
 Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascall 
 [Striking him, 
 Sfew. I'll not be struck, my lord. 
 Kent. Nor tripped neither; you base foot-ball 
 P^'ycr- [Tripping up hi$ Heels. 
 
 Lear. I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, 
 and I'll love thee. 
 
 Ke7it. Come, sir, arise, away; I'll teach you 
 diilcrences; away, away: If you will measure your 
 lubber's length again, tarry: but away; go to: 
 Have you wisdom] so. [Pushes the Sleward out. 
 , L.ear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: 
 there's earnest oi thy service. [ Giving Ke.nt Money. 
 Enter Fool. 
 Fool. Let me liire him too; — Here's my cox- 
 comb. [Giring Kknt hh Cap. 
 Lear. How now, my pretty knave] how dust 
 thou ] 
 Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. 
 Kent. Why, tool ] 
 
 Fool. Why, for taking one's part that is out of 
 favor: Nay. an thou canst not smile as the wind 
 sits, thou'it catch cold shortly: There, take my 
 coxcomb: Why, this fellow has banish'd two of his 
 daughters, ana did the third a blessing against his 
 will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my 
 coxcomb. — How now, nuncle] 'Would I had two 
 coxcombs, and two daughters! 
 Lear. Why. my boy]' 
 
 Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my 
 coxcombs myself: There's mine: beg another of 
 thy daughter's. 
 J^ear. Take heed, sirrah ; the whip. 
 Fool. Truth's a dog that must to kennel; he 
 must he whipp'd out, when Lady, the brach," may 
 stand by the tire aud stink. 
 Lear. A pestilent gall to me ! 
 Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech, 
 Lear. Do. 
 Fool. Mark it, nuncle:— 
 
 Have mnrc than thnu shoivesty 
 Speak less than thnu knowest. 
 Lend less than ihmt oarst,'^ 
 Hide more than thou ^''t-sf. 
 Learn nune than Ifmu Iron-est^ 
 Set less than Hum throwest ; 
 Leave Ihij ilrink ami thy whore. 
 And keep in-n-doory 
 And thou shall have more 
 Than two tens to a score. 
 Lear. This is notliing, fool. 
 Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd 
 lawyer; you gave me nothinglbrt: Can you make 
 110 use ot^ nothing, nuncle ] 
 
 Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out 
 of nothing. 
 
 FtioL Pr'ythce. tell him. so much the rent of his 
 land comes' to; he will not believe a fool. 
 
 [To Kent. 
 Lear. A bitter fool ! 
 
 Fool. Dost thou know the dilTerence, my boy, 
 between a bitter lool and a sweet fool ? 
 Lear. No, lad ; leach me. 
 Fool. That lord, that cimnselPd Mce, 
 
 To give away thy land, 
 e Tunc-tilious jealousy. 8 PHKiifn. 
 
 1 lUtch-bouud. ■ Ownest, posaessest. » UL-lievest. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 681 
 
 Come place him here by me, — 
 
 Or 'If) ihini fitr him .sfand : 
 Thr sicecf and hitter fool 
 JViU presently appear ; 
 The one in motley here. 
 The ot tier found out there. 
 Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy 1 
 Fool. All thy other titles thou h'ast given away ; 
 that thou wast born with. 
 Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. 
 Fuol. No, 'faith, lords and great men will not let 
 ine; if I had a monopoly out,they would have part 
 on't: and ladies too, they will not let me have all 
 fool to myself; they'll be snatching.— Give me an 
 egg, nunde, and I'll give thee two erowiis. 
 Lear. Wliat two crowns shall they be] 
 Foo/. Why. a Her I have cut the egg i' the middle, 
 and eat up' the meat, the two crowns of the q',;^. 
 When thou clovcst thy crown i' the middle and 
 gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on 
 thy back over the dirt: Thou hadst little wit in thy 
 ba"ld crown, when thou gavest thy golden one away, 
 ll I speak like myself In this, let liim be whipp'd 
 tliat first, linds it so. 
 Fools had ne'er less ^race^ in a year ; [Singing. 
 
 For O'ise men are ^nnvn foppish ; 
 And. kmai) not ftoio tlieir ivits to weary 
 
 Their manners are so apish. 
 Lear. When were you wont to be so full of 
 songs, sirrah ^ 
 
 Fool. I liave used it, nuncle, ever since thou 
 
 madest Thy daughters thy mother: for when thou 
 
 eavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own 
 
 breeches, 
 
 Then they for sudden joy did weep, [Singing. 
 
 And I Jor sorrow sung, 
 Tfiat such a king should play bo-peepj 
 And go the fools among. 
 Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach 
 thy fool to lie; I would fain learn to lie. 
 Lear. If you He. sirrah, we^'U have you whipp'd. 
 Foot. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters 
 are: theyMl have me whipp'd for speaking true, 
 thou'lt hn\c nit' uhipjiM (or lying; and. sometimes, 
 I am whipped Ji»r holding my peace. I had rather 
 be any kind of thing than a tool : and yet I would 
 not be thee, nuncle ; Ihou hast pared thy wit o' hoth 
 sides, and left nothing in the middle: Here comes 
 one o' the parings. 
 
 Enter Go\eril. 
 Lear. How now, daughter! what makes that 
 frontlet- on 1 Methinks, you are too much of late 
 i'' the frown. 
 
 Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou 
 hadst no need to care for her frowning; now thou 
 art an 0^ without a figure: I am better than thou 
 art now; I am a fool,'thou art nothing. — Vcs, for- 
 sootli.I V. ill hold my tongue; so your face [To GoN.] 
 bids me, thougli you say nothing. Mum, mum, 
 He that Uceps nor crust nor cru7ii, 
 Weary of alt, shall want some. 
 Thafs a shealM peascod^. [Pointing to Leah. 
 
 Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licensM fool, 
 But other of your insolent retinue. 
 Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth. 
 In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 
 I had thought, by making ihiswcll known unto you. 
 To have found a safe redress ; but now grow tearful, 
 By wliat yourself too late have spoke and done, 
 That you protect this course, and put it on 
 By your allowance;' which if you should, the fault 
 Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep; 
 Which, in the lender of a wholesome wf-alj^ 
 Might in their working do you that oflTencc, 
 Which else were shame, that then necessity 
 Will call discreet proceeding. 
 Fool. For you trow, nuncle, 
 
 The hedge-spai'Toiv fed the cuckoo so longj 
 That it had its head bit off by its you?ig. 
 So. outwent the candle, and we were left darkling. 
 Lear. Are you our daughter? 
 Gon. Come, sir, I would, you would make use of 
 * Favnr. 
 
 a Part of a woman's head-dress, to which Lear compares 
 her frowning bi-ow. a A cypher. 
 
 « A mere husk which contains nothing. 
 » Approbation. • Wt'll-govemed state- 
 
 that good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught;"^ 
 and put away these dispositions, wnich of late trans- 
 form you from what you rightly are. 
 
 Font. May not an ass know when the cart drawa 
 the horse 1 — Whoop, Jug ! I love thee. 
 
 Lear. Does any here know me! — Why this 
 is nut Lear: does Lear vi^alk thus! speak thus! 
 Wlierc are his eyes! Either his notion weakens, 
 or his discernings are lethargied. — Sleeping or 
 waking! — tfa ! sure "'tis not so. — Who is it that 
 can tell me who I am! — Lear's shadow! I would 
 learn that; tor by the marks of sovereignty, know- 
 ledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I liad 
 dauiihters. 
 
 Fo(/l. Which they will make an obedient father. 
 
 Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman ! 
 
 Goti. Come, sir; 
 This admiration is much o' the favor^ 
 Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 
 To understand my purposes aright: 
 As you are old and reverend, you should be wise; 
 Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires: 
 Men so disordered, so dehauch'd, and hold. 
 That this our court, infected with their manners, 
 Shows like a riotous inn : epicurism and lust 
 Make it more like a tavern or a brothel, 
 Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak 
 For instant remedy: Be then desir'd 
 By her, that else vviU take the thing she begs, 
 A little to disquantity your train; 
 And the remamder, that shall still depend,9 
 To he such men as may besort your age, 
 And know themselves and you. 
 
 Lear. Darkness and devils! — 
 
 Saddle my horses; call my train together. — 
 Degenerate bastard ! Fll not trouble thee ; 
 Yet have I left a daughter. 
 
 Gw". You strike my people ; and your disordered 
 rabble 
 Make servants of their betters. 
 
 Enter Albany. 
 
 Lear. Woe, that too late repents, — 0, sir, are 
 you come ! 
 Is it your will ! [To Alb.] Speak, sir. — Prepare my 
 
 horses. 
 Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted fiend, 
 More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 
 Than the sea-monster! 
 
 J lb. Pray, sir, be patient, 
 
 Lear. Detested kite ! thoulicst; [^To GoNEniL. 
 My train are meji of choice and rarest parts, 
 That all particulars of duty know; 
 And in the most exact regard support 
 The worships of their name. — O most small fault. 
 How ugly aidst thou in Cordelia show ! 
 Which, like an engine,'wTcnch''d my frame of nature 
 From the fixM place; drew from my heart all love, 
 And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear ! 
 Beat at this gate that let thy folly in, 
 
 [Striking hvi Head, 
 And thy dear judgment out! — Go, go, my people. 
 
 All). My lord, I am guiltless, as I am igijorant 
 Of vihat fiath mov'd you. 
 
 Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Hear, nature, hear ! 
 Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if 
 Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful! 
 Into her womb convey sterility ! 
 Dry up in her the organs of increase; 
 And from her derogate- body never spring 
 A babe to honor her! If she must teem. 
 Create her cliild of spleen; (hat it may live. 
 And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! 
 Let it stamp wrinkles on her brow of youth; 
 With cadent^ tears fret channels in her cheeks; 
 Turn all her mother''s pains, and benefits. 
 To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel 
 How sJiarper than a serpent's tooth it is 
 To have a thankless child ! — A way, away ! [Exit, 
 
 Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, wlicicof comes 
 this! 
 
 Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause; 
 But lei his disposition have that scope 
 That dotage gives it. 
 
 Re-enter Lear. 
 Lear. What, fifty oi'my followers, at a clap ! 
 Within a tbrtnigiit! 
 
 1 PtAred. 
 » The rack. 
 
 B Complexion, 
 a Degraded. 
 
 9 Continue in service 
 3 Fulling. 
 
682 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Alb. What's the matter, sir] 
 
 if or. I'll tell thee; — Life and death! I am 
 ashamed 
 That tliou hast power to shake my manhood thus; 
 
 [Tu GoNKKIL. 
 
 That these hot tears, which break from me perlbrcc, 
 Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and togs 
 
 upon thee. 
 The untenledJ woundings of a father's curse 
 Pierce every sense about thee ! — Old Ibnd eyes, 
 lieweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out. 
 And cast you, with the waters that you lose, 
 To temper clay. — Ua ! has it come to this] 
 Let it be so .•—Vet have I left a daughter. 
 Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable; 
 When she shall hear tliis of thee, with her nails 
 She'll Hay thy wolfish visage. Thou shall tind. 
 That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think 
 1 have cast orf ibrever; thou shalt, I warrant thee. 
 [Exeunt Lkar, Kent, and Attendants. 
 
 Con. Do you mark that, my lord! 
 
 Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, 
 To the great love I bear you, — 
 
 Gun. Pray you, content. — What, Oswald, ho! 
 You, sir, more knave tlian fool, al'ter your master. 
 
 [To-tke Fool. 
 
 Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, and take 
 the fool with thee. 
 
 A fox, when otie hns caught her 
 
 Anil such a ilaughter. 
 
 Should sure to the slaughter, 
 
 If my cap ivc/uld buija halter. 
 
 Ho the fool follows after. [Exit. 
 
 Gon. This man hath had good counsel: — A hun- 
 dred knights! 
 'Tis politic, and sate, to let him keep 
 At point,* a hundred knights. Yes, that on every 
 
 dream. 
 Each buz, eacii fancy, each complaint, dislike, 
 He may enguard his dotage with their powers, 
 And hold our lives in mercy.— Oswald, I say ! — 
 
 Alb. Well, you may fear too far. 
 
 Gon. Safer than trust: 
 
 Let me still take away the arms I fear. 
 Not tear still to be l;iken. I know his heart: 
 What ho hath utter'd, I have writ my sister; 
 If she sustain him and his hundred k'niglits. 
 When I have show'd the unfitness, — How now, 
 Oswald ! 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 
 What, have you writ that letter to my sister ? 
 
 Steto. Ay, madam. 
 
 Gon. Take you some company, and away to 
 horse : 
 Inform her full of my particular fear; 
 And thereto add such reasons of your own, 
 As may compact it more, (iet you gone ; 
 And hasten your return. [E.r(/'Stew.] No, no, my 
 
 lord. 
 This milky gentleness, and course of yours. 
 Though I condemn it not. vet, under pardon. 
 You are much more attask'd'> lor want of wisdom, 
 Than prais'd for harmful mildness. 
 
 Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell; 
 Striving to better, oft we mar wliat's well. 
 
 Gon. Nay, then- 
 
 Alb. Well, well; the event. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Court before the same. 
 Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 
 
 Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these letters : 
 acquaint my daughter no further with any thing 
 you know, than comes from her demand ou'tcifthe 
 letter: If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be 
 there before you. 
 
 Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have deli- 
 vered your letter. [Exit. 
 
 Fool. If a man's brains were in his heels, were't 
 not in danger of kibes ] 
 
 Lear. Ay, boy. 
 
 Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry ; thy wit shall 
 not go slip-shod. 
 
 Lear. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee 
 kindly: for though she's as like this as a crab is Uke 
 an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. 
 
 Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy ? 
 
 Fool. She will taste as like this, as a" crab does to 
 a crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands i' 
 the middle of his face ! 
 
 Lear. No. 
 
 Fool. ^Vliy, to keep his eyes on either side his 
 nose ; that what a man cannot smell out, lie may 
 spy into. 
 
 Lear. I did her wrong : — 
 
 Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ] 
 
 I^ear. No. 
 
 Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail 
 has a house. 
 
 Lear. Why! 
 
 Fool. Why, to put his head in; not to give it 
 away to his daughters, and leave his horns without 
 a case. 
 
 Lear. I will forget my nature.— So kind a fatlier ! 
 — Be my horses ready ! 
 
 Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The rea 
 son why the seven stars are no more than seven, 
 is a pretty reason. 
 
 Lear. Because they arc not eight? 
 
 Fool. Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good 
 fool. 
 
 Lear. To take it again perforce !— Monster in- 
 gratitude. 
 
 Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncio, I'd have 
 thee beaten llir being old before thy time. 
 
 Lear. How's that f 
 
 Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old, before 
 thim hadst been wise. 
 
 Lear. let me not be' mad, not mad, sweet hea- 
 ven ! Keep ine in temper; I would not be mad! 
 
 Enter Gentleman. 
 How now! Are the horses ready] 
 
 Gent. Ready, my lord. 
 
 Lear. Come, boy. 
 
 Fool. She that is maid now, and laughs at my 
 departure. 
 Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut 
 shorter. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Court tvUhin the Castle of the Earl 
 . rf Gloster. 
 
 Enter Edsiuxd and CtRAX, meeting. 
 
 Elm. Save thee, Curan. 
 
 Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your 
 father; and given him notice, that the duke of 
 Cornwall, and Pvcgaii his duchess, will be here 
 with him In-iiight. 
 
 Ednt. !Iow comes that? 
 
 Cur. Nin, I know not: You have heard of the 
 news abroad ; I mean the whispered ones, for they 
 are yet but ear-ki^isirig arguments? 
 
 Edm. Not I ; 'Pray you, what are they ? 
 
 ' fnii rested. . Armed. 
 
 8 Liidilu to reprebeosion. 
 
 Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 
 twixt the dukes of Cornwall and Albany ! 
 Edm. Not a word. 
 
 Cur. You may then, in time. Fare you well. sir. 
 
 'Exit. 
 Edm. The duke be here to-night? The better! 
 Best ! 
 This weaves itself perforce into my business ! 
 Jly father hath set guard to take my brother; 
 And I h.ave one thing of a queaxy' question. 
 Which I must act: — Briefness, and fortune, 
 
 work !— 
 Brother, a word ; descend :— Brother, I s;iy ; 
 
 Enter Edgar. 
 My father watches:— sir, fly this place; 
 ' Dflicato. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 683 
 
 Intelligence is given where you are hid; 
 You have now Ihc good advantage of the night:— 
 Have you notspolicn 'gainst the duke of Comwain 
 He's coming hither; now i' the niglit. i' the liastc, 
 And Regan with him ; Have you nothing said 
 Upon Ins party 'gainst the duke of Albany 1 
 Advise* yourself. 
 Edg. I am sure on t, not a word. 
 
 Ellin. I hear my father coming,— Pardon me:— 
 In cunning, 1 must draw my sword upon you :— 
 Draw: Seem to defend yourself: Now quit you 
 
 well. 
 Yield : — come before my father ; — Light, ho 
 
 here I — 
 riy, brother ;— Torches ! torches ! So farewell.— 
 
 [Exit Edgak. 
 Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 
 
 [ IVounds hi",- Ann. 
 Of my more tierce endeavor : I have seen drunkards 
 Do more lium tins in sport.— Father ! liither ! . 
 Stop, stop! No help ! 
 
 Enter Gloster, and Servants with Torches. 
 Gin. Now, Edmund, Where's the villain] 
 Edni. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword 
 out. 
 Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon 
 To stand his auspicious mistress: — 
 Gill. But where is he? 
 
 Edin. Look, sir, I bleed. 
 
 G/o. Where is the villain, Edmund ? 
 
 Kdni. Fled this way, sir. When by no means 
 
 tic could — 
 Glo. Pursue him, ho!— Go afler. — [Exit Serv.] 
 
 ]^y no means, — what ] 
 Edm. Persuade me lothemurderofyourlordship; 
 But that I told him, the revenging gods 
 'Gainst ]'arricides did all their thunders bend; 
 Spoke, Willi how manifold and strong a bond 
 The child was bound to the father;- Sir, in fine. 
 Seeing how loathly opiiositc I stood 
 To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion. 
 With his prci)3red sword, iie charges home 
 My unprovided body, lanced mine arm : 
 But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, 
 Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter, 
 ( )r whether gastedi* by the noise I made, 
 Full suddenly he tied. 
 
 Glo. Let him fly far: 
 
 Not m this land shall he remain uncaught; 
 Andlound — Despatch. — The noble duke my master. 
 My wortliy arch' and patron, comes to-night: 
 By his authority I will proclaim it, 
 Tlial ho. which linds him, shall deserve our thanks. 
 Bringing tlie murtlerous coward to the stake; 
 He, that conceals him, death. 
 
 Edm. When-1 dissuaded him from his intent. 
 And liiund him piglit-' to do it, with cui'st^ speech 
 ] tlireatcn'd to discover him: He rejjlied, 
 Thou nnj>iis.yc.-^.'<liig bn.sf(trd.' dost tttiiu t/iink, 
 If I would slaiiil ngninst tlue, would Hit reposal 
 Of any IrusI, virtue, or wortti, in tttee 
 tilake thy worila fait lid? Xo: wlint I .should deny, 
 [As this I would; ay. tliuu^k thou didst produce 
 Aly very character,) Vd turn it all 
 To thy stn'KCstKin, plot, and damned practice: 
 And iliou must mabe a dullard if the worlil. 
 If they not thuuKht llie priijits of my death 
 li'cre very iTegnant and putenlial spurs 
 To nialie thee seek it. 
 
 Gill. Strong and fastcn'd villain! 
 
 Would he deny his letter] — 1 never got him. 
 
 [Trvinpets within. 
 Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he 
 
 comes: — 
 All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape; 
 The duke must grant me tliat : besides, his picture 
 I will send liir and near, that all the kingdom 
 May have due note of him ; and of my land, 
 Lojal and natural boy, I'll work the means 
 To make thee cajjable.-i 
 
 Enter Cokswall, REGAN,"on(i Attendants. 
 Corn. How now, my noble friend] since I came 
 hither, 
 (Which 1 can call but now,) I have heard strange 
 news, 
 
 * Consider, recollect yourself. • Frightened. 
 
 * Chief. » Pitched, fixed. ' Severe, harsh. 
 
 * :'. e. Capable of succeeding to my land. 
 
 Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short. 
 Winch can pursue IheolTender. How dost,my lord] 
 GUi. (), madam, my old heart is crack'd, is crack'd! 
 ReK. What.did my father's godson seek your life] 
 He wliom my lather named ! your Edgar] 
 Gill. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid ! 
 Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous 
 knights 
 That tend upon my father] 
 
 ijlo, I know not, madam : 
 
 It is too bad, too bad. — 
 Edm. Yes, madam, he was. 
 
 Hcg. No marvel then, though he were ill atlected ; 
 'Tis they have put him on tlie old man's death. 
 To have the waste and spoil of his revenues. 
 I have tills present evening from my sister 
 lieenwellinlbrm'dofthem; and wilh such cautions, 
 Tliat, if they come to sojourn at my house, 
 I'll not be there. 
 
 Cum. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — 
 
 Ediiuiiid, I hear that you have shown your father 
 A child-like otiice. 
 Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir. _ 
 
 Gill. He did bewray his practice ;' and receiv d 
 This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 
 Corn. Is he pursued J 
 
 Glo. Ay. my good lord, he is. 
 
 Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more 
 Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose. 
 How 111 my strength you please.— For you, Ed- 
 mund, 
 Whose virtue and obedience doth tliis instant 
 So much commend itself, you shall be ours ; 
 Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; 
 You we lirst seize on, 
 
 Edm. I shall serve you, sir. 
 
 Truly, however else. 
 
 Gill. For him, I thank your grace. 
 Corn. You know not why we came to visit yon, — 
 Heg. Thus out of season; threading dark-cy'd 
 night. 
 Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poise,'' 
 Wherein we must have use of your advice: — 
 Our lalhcr he hath writ, so hath our sister. 
 Of dill'eiences, which I best thought it tit 
 To answer from our home ; the several messengers 
 From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend, 
 Lay comforts to your bosom ; and bestow 
 Your needful counsel to our business. 
 Which craves the instant use. 
 
 GU>. I serve you, madam: 
 
 Your graces are right welcome. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n.— Before Gloster's Castle. 
 Enter Kent and Steward, severally. 
 
 Stew. Good dawning to tliee, friend : Art of the 
 house] 
 
 Kent. Ay. 
 
 Stew. Where may we set our horses] 
 
 Kent, r the mire. 
 
 Stew. Pr'ythec, if thou love me, tell inc. 
 
 Kent. I love thee not. 
 
 Stew. Why, then I care not for thee. 
 
 Kent. If I liad thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would 
 make thee care for me. 
 
 Slew. Why dost thou use me thus] I know 
 thee not. 
 
 Kent. Fellow, 1 know thee. 
 
 Sltw. What dost thou know me for] 
 
 Kent. A knave; a rascal, an eater of broken 
 meats; a base. proud.shaliow, beggarly, three-suited, 
 Iiundred-pound, hltiiy, worsted-stocking knave; a 
 lily-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whoi eson, glass- 
 ga/.ing,superserviccable, finical rogue; one-trunk- 
 inlieriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in 
 way of good service, and art nothing but the com- 
 position of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and 
 the son and heir of a mongrel bitch : one wlunn I 
 will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st 
 the least syllabic of tliy addition.' 
 
 Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, 
 thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, 
 nor knows thee ] 
 
 Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to 
 deny thou know'st me] Is it two days ago, since I 
 tripii'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before tiie king] 
 Draw, you rogue: tor, though it be night, the 
 moon shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of 
 
 ' Wicked purpose. • Weight. ' Titles. 
 
684 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act T1 
 
 you : Draw, you "vvhoreson cullionty barhcr-mon^:- 
 er. draw. [ D?-airing: his- Swnrd. 
 
 Stew. Away ; I have nothing: to do with thee. 
 
 Kent. Draw, yon rascal : you come with letters 
 against the king; and take Vanity'^ tlie puppet's 
 part, against the royalty of her father: Draw, you 
 rogue, or 1*11 so carbonado your shanks: — draw, 
 you rascal ; come your ways. 
 
 Sfew. Help, ho ! murder"! help ! 
 
 Kejif. Strike, you slave; stand, 'rogue, stand; 
 you neat slave, strike. iBeaUng him. 
 
 Steiv. Help, ho! murder! murder! 
 
 Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and 
 Servants, 
 
 Eflm. How now? What's the matter? Part. 
 
 Kent- With you, goodman boy, if you please; 
 come, ril llesh you ; come on, young master. 
 
 Glo. Weapons! arms! What's the matter here? 
 
 Corn. Keep peace, upon jour lives ; 
 He dies, that strikes again: What is the matter? 
 
 Reg:. The messengers from our sister and the king. 
 
 Cirrn. What is your difference ? speak. 
 
 Sfcu: I am scarce in breath, my lord. 
 
 KeJit. No marvel, you have so bestirrM your 
 valor. Von cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in 
 thee; a tailor made thee. 
 
 Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make 
 a man ? 
 
 Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter. or a paint- 
 er, could liot have made him so ill, though they 
 had been but two hours at the trade. 
 
 Com. Speak yet. how grew your quarrel ? 
 
 Stew. This ancient ruthan, sir, whose life I have 
 spared. 
 At suit of his grey beard, — 
 
 Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary 
 letter!— My lord^ if you will give me leave, I will 
 tread this unbolteds villain into mortar, and daub 
 the walls' of a Jakes' with him. — Spare my grey 
 beard, you wagtail ! 
 
 Corn. Peace, sirrah ! 
 You beastly knave, know you no reverence ? 
 
 Kent. Yes. sir; but anger has a privilege. 
 
 Corn. Why art thou angry ? 
 
 Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a 
 sword, 
 \Vho wears no honest}'. Such smiling rogues as 
 
 these. 
 Like rats, oil. bite the holy cords atwain 
 Wliich are too intrinse^ t' unloose: smooth every 
 
 passion 
 That in the natures of their lords rebels; 
 Bring oil to tire, snow to their colder moods; 
 Renege,3 afiirm, and turn their halcyon' beaks 
 With every gale and vary of their masters, 
 As knowing naught, like doi^s, but Ibllowing. — 
 A plague upon your epileptic visage \ 
 Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool? 
 Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, 
 rd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.^ 
 
 Crn-n. What, art thou mad, old leliow? 
 
 Glo. How fell you out ? 
 
 Say that. 
 
 Kent. Vo contraries hold more antipathy. 
 Than I and such a knave. 
 
 Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What's 
 his ollence ? 
 
 Kent. His countenance likes me not. 
 
 Coi'n. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or 
 hers. 
 
 Kent. Sir, 'lis my occupation to be plain: 
 I have seen better faces in my time, 
 Tlian stands on any slioulder that I see 
 Before me at this instant. 
 
 Corn. This is some fellow 
 
 Who, having been prais'd for bluntness.dothalFect 
 A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb. 
 Quite from his nature : He cannot Halter, he ! — 
 An honest mind and plain.— he must speak truth ; 
 An they will take it. so; if not, he's plain. 
 These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain- 
 ness 
 
 B A rbir.'icter in thi> ol.t mnralities. 9 UnrefintKl. 
 
 * Hilvy. a IVrpU'xed. 3 Disown. 
 
 * The bird cnlled the klnK-fisher. which, when dried and 
 hunsr up hy a thre-id. is suiipnpod to turn bis hill to the 
 point frnm wht-me the wind blows. 
 
 * In Somersetshire, where are bred great quantities of 
 geese. 
 
 Harbor more craft, and more corrupter ends. 
 Than twenty silly ducking observants, 
 That stretch their duties nicely- 
 
 Kent. Sir. in good sooth, in sincere verity, 
 Under the allowance of your grand asppct, 
 Whose inlluence. like the wreath of radiant fire 
 On nickering Phccbus' front. — 
 
 Corn. What mean'st by this^ 
 
 Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you dis 
 commend so much. 1 know. sir. I am no flatterer' 
 he that beguiled you. in a plain accent, wasa plain 
 knave ; which, for my part, I wiii not be, though I 
 should win your displeasure to entreat me in it. 
 
 Corn. What was the offence you gave him ? 
 
 Stew. Never any 
 
 It pleas'd the king his master, very late. 
 To strike at me, upon his misconstruction ; 
 When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, 
 Tripp'd me behind : being down, insulted, rail'd, 
 And put upon him such a deal of man. 
 That worthy'd him, got praises of the king 
 For him attempting who was self-subdued; 
 And. in the tleshment of this dread exploit. 
 Drew on me hero. 
 
 Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards, 
 
 But Ajax is their fool.t> 
 
 Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho ! 
 
 You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend brag- 
 gart. 
 We'll teach you 
 
 Kent. Sir. T am too old to learn: 
 
 Call not your stocks for me : I serve the king; 
 On whose employment I was sent to you ; 
 You shall do small respect, show too bold malice 
 Against the grace and person of my master, 
 Stocking his messenger. 
 
 Corn. Fetch forth the stocks: 
 
 As Tve life and honor, there sliall he sit til! noon. 
 
 Reg. Till noon ! till night, my lord; and all night 
 too. 
 
 Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, 
 You should not use uic so. 
 
 Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. 
 
 [ Stocks l>roiis;tit out. 
 
 Com. This is a fellow of the self-same color 
 Our sister speaks of:— Come, bring away the stocks, 
 
 Gfo. Let me beseech your graco not to do so: 
 His fiult is much, and the good king his master 
 Willcheckhim forH: your purposed low correction 
 Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches. 
 For pilferings and most common trespasses. 
 Are punishd with: the king must take it ill, 
 That he*s so slightly valued in his messenger, 
 Should have him thus restrain'd. 
 
 Ci/rn, I'll answer that. 
 
 Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, 
 To have her gentleman abused, assaulted. 
 For following her at7ixirs. — Put in his legs. — 
 
 [Kent is jmt in tfie Stocks. 
 Come, my good lord ; away. 
 
 [Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. 
 
 Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend ; 'tis the duke's 
 pleasure. 
 Whose disposition, all the world well knows. 
 Will not be rubbd, nor stopp'd : I'll entreat for 
 thee. 
 
 Kent. Pray, do not, sir; I have watch'd, and 
 travell'd hard; 
 Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. 
 A good man's fortune may grow out at heels: 
 Give you good-morrow ! 
 
 Glo. The duke's to blame in this: 'twill be ill 
 taken. [Exit. 
 
 Kent. Good king, that must approve the common 
 saw !' 
 Thou out of heaven*s benediction com'st 
 To the warm sun ! 
 
 Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, 
 That by thy comfortable beams 1 may 
 Peruse this letter ! — Nothing almost sees miracles, 
 But misery : — I know; 'tis from Cordelia ; 
 Who hath most fortunately been informd 
 Of my obscured course; and shall (ind time 
 From this enormous state, — seeking to icive 
 Losses their remedies: — All weary and oVrwatch'd, 
 Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold 
 This shameful lodging. 
 
 Fortune, good-night; smile once more; turn thy 
 wheel ! [He sleeps, 
 
 8 i.e. Ajna is n fool to them. "* Swying or proverb. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 685 
 
 SCENE III.- 4 Part of the Heath. 
 Enter Edgar. 
 Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd: 
 And. by tlie h:ippy hollow of a tree, 
 Escaped the hunt. No port is free ; no place, 
 That guard, and most unusual vigilance. 
 Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape, 
 1 will preserve myself; and am bethought 
 To take the basest and most poorest shape, 
 That ever penury, in contempt of man, 
 Brought near to beast : my face Til grime with filth; 
 Blanket my loins; elf^ all my hair in knots; 
 And with presented nakedness outface 
 The winds, and persecutions of the sky. 
 The country gives me proof and precedent 
 Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices. 
 Strike in their numbM and mortitied bare arras 
 pins, wooden pricks,^ nails, sprigs of rosemary ; 
 And with this horrible oliject, from low farms, 
 Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills, 
 Sometime with lunatic bans,' sometime with 
 
 prayers. 
 Enforce their charity. — PoorTurlygood! poorTom! 
 That's something yet; — Edgar 1 nothing am. 
 
 [ExU, 
 
 SCENE IV.— Be/w-eGIoster's Castle. 
 Enter Leau, Fool, and Gentleman, 
 
 Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so depart 
 from home, 
 And not send back my messenger. 
 
 Oent. As I learnM, 
 
 The night before there was no purpose in them 
 Of this remove. 
 
 Kent. Hail to thee, noble master ! 
 
 Lear. How ? 
 Mak'st thou' this shame thy pastime ? 
 
 Kent. No, my lord. 
 
 Fool. Ha, ha; look! he wears cruel- garters! 
 Horses arc tied by the heads; dogs and bears, by 
 the neck; monkeys by the loins; and men by the 
 legs: when a man is over-lusty at legs, then lie 
 wears wooden nether stocks.3 
 
 Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy place 
 mistook 
 To set thee hcrc^ 
 
 Kent. It is both he and she, 
 
 Your son and daughter, 
 
 Lear. No. 
 
 Kent. Yes. 
 
 Lear. No, I say. 
 
 Kent. I say, yea. 
 
 Leur. No, no; they would not. 
 
 Kent. Yes. thoy have. 
 
 Lear. Hy Jupiter, I swear, no. 
 
 Ktnt. By Juno, I swear, ay. 
 
 Lear. They durst not do't; 
 They could not, would not do*t; 'tis worse than 
 
 murder. 
 To do upon respect such violent outrage : 
 Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way 
 Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage, 
 Coming from us. 
 
 Kent. M5' lord, when at their home 
 
 I did commend your highness' letters to them. 
 Ere 1 was risen from the place that show'd 
 My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, 
 Stew'd in liis haste- half breathless, panting forth 
 From Concril his mistress, salutations; 
 Delivt^'d letters, spite of intermission, 
 Which presently they read: on whose contents, 
 They summon'ii up their meiny,'' straight took 
 
 horse ; 
 Commanded mo to follow, and attend 
 The leisure of their answer: gave me cold looks: 
 And meeting here the other messenger, 
 Whose welcome, I perceivM, had poison'd mine, 
 (Being the very fellow that of late 
 Display'd so saucily against your highness,) 
 Having more man than wit about me, drew : 
 He raised the house with loud and coward cries : 
 Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 
 The shame which here it sutfers. 
 
 • Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of 
 elves and fairies in the niirht. » Skewers. 
 
 * Curses. » A quibble on crewel^ worsted. 
 
 • The old word for fitockings. 
 
 * Peciplo, train, or retinue. 
 
 Fool. Winter''s nut gone yetj if the wild geese jiy 
 that way. 
 Fathers, that wear rags, 
 
 Dii make thtir children blind; 
 But fathers, that bear bags^ 
 
 Shall see their children ki?id. 
 Fortune, that arrant whore. 
 Ne'er turn.s tht key to the poar. — 
 
 But. for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors^ 
 for thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year. 
 
 Lear. O, how this mother* swells up toward my 
 heart! 
 Hysterica pasfiia I down, thou climbing sorrow, 
 Tny elemenl''s below I— Where is this daughter? 
 
 Kent. With the carl, sir, here within. 
 
 Lear. Follow mc not : 
 
 Stay here. [Exit. 
 
 Gent. Made you no more offence tJian what you 
 speak of? 
 
 Kent. None. 
 How chance the king comes with so small a train? 
 
 Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stoclis for 
 that question, thou hadst well deserved it. 
 
 Kent. Why, fooil 
 
 Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach 
 thee there's no laboring in the winter. All that 
 follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind 
 men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but 
 can smell him that's slinking. Let go thy hold, 
 when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break 
 thy neck with following it; but the great one that 
 goes up the hill, let him draw thee al^er. When 
 a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine 
 again: I would have none but knaves follow it, 
 since a tool gives it. 
 
 That, sir, ivhich serves and seeks frr gain, 
 
 AndfoWnvs but for form. 
 Will pack, when it begins to rain. 
 
 And leave thee in the storm. 
 But I will tarry, the fool will stay, 
 
 And let the wise manjly, 
 The knave turns fool, th/it runs away ; 
 
 The fool no knave, perdy, 
 
 Kent. Where learned you this, fool ! 
 Fool. Not i' the stock.s, ibol. 
 
 Re-enter Lear, wUh Gloster. 
 
 Lear. Deny to speak with me 1 They are sick 1 
 they are weary ? 
 They have travelPd hard to-night? Mere fetches; 
 Tlie images of revolt and (lying off! 
 Fetch me a better answer. 
 
 GLo. My dear lord, 
 
 You know the fiery quality of the duke ; 
 How unremoveable and lixM he is 
 In his own course. 
 
 Lear. Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion ! 
 Fiery ] what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, 
 I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife. 
 
 Glo. Well, my good lord, I have informal them so. 
 
 Lear. Inlbrm'd them ! Dost thou understand me, 
 man? 
 
 Glo. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ; the 
 dear lather 
 Would with his daughter speak, commands her 
 service : 
 
 Are they informM of this? My breath and 
 
 blood !— 
 Fiery? the ticry duke?— Tell the hot duke that— 
 No, but not yet :^may be he is not well : 
 Intirmity doth stil! neglect ail ottice, 
 Whereto our health is bound; we are not our.selves. 
 When nature, being oppressM, commands the mind 
 To sutler with the body : I'll forbear ; 
 And am fallen out with my more headier will. 
 To take the indisjjos'd and sickly fit 
 For the sound man. — Death on my slate! wlierefore 
 [Looking on Kent. 
 Should he sit here? This act persuades me, 
 That this remotion'^ of the duke and her 
 Is practice^ only. Give me my servant forth : 
 Go, leli the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them, 
 Now, presently : bid them come forth and hear me, 
 
 • A quibble betwet'ii thtjurs and dollart, 
 
 • The disease called the muOi'^r. 
 
 ' IlemoTing fi-om their own bouso. ■ Artifice. 
 
Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum. 
 Till it cry—Sleep to ileal h,. 
 
 Glu. I'd have all well betwixt you. [Exit. 
 
 Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart!— but, 
 down. 
 
 Fool. Cry to it. nuncle, as the cockney did to the 
 eels, when she put tlicm i' the paste alive- she 
 rapp'd 'em n' the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd 
 Dutcn. wantons, ilnwn : 'Twas her brother, that iii 
 pure kindness to his horse, butter'd his hay. 
 Enter Coenwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants. 
 
 Lear. Good-morrow to you both. 
 
 ^'""'*- Hail to your grace ! 
 
 r,^ . ... [Kent is set at liberty. 
 
 Reg. I am glad to see your highness. 
 
 Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what 
 reason 
 I have to think so : if thou shouldst not be glad 
 I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 
 Sepfilchnng an adultress.— 0, are you freer 
 
 I To Kent 
 Some ofher time for that.— Beloved Rcan 
 Thy sister's naught : O, Regan, she hath tied 
 Sharp-tooth'd unldndness, like a vulture, here.— 
 T , . [Points to Ills Heart. 
 
 I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not beheve, 
 Vt how depraved a C(uality.— 0, Rcan' 
 
 Reg- I pray you, sir, take patienc?; I'have hope 
 i ou less know how to value her desert 
 Than she to scant her duty. ' 
 
 ^"''■, ..,.., Say, how is that 1 
 
 „T ?j ■ '^^™'>^ '^'"^' '"y "'ster in the least 
 Would tail her obligation : if, sir. perchance 
 She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, 
 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end. 
 As clears her from all blame. 
 Lear. My curses on her ! 
 
 1..^/^' ■ , 0, sir, you are old ; 
 
 JVature in you stands on the very verge 
 Ot her conline: you should be ruled, and led 
 By some discretion, that discerns your state 
 Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you 
 That to our sister you do make return ; ' 
 
 Say, you have wrong'd her, sir. 
 
 T^„"'' I. . , u , . A-''k her forgiveness 1 
 Do jou but mark how this becomes the house ;9 
 Lear (laughter, I confess that lam old ■ 
 Age IS unnecessary: m my knees I beg, [Kneeling. 
 I hat you Uvouchsaje me raiment, bed, and food 
 Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly 
 tricks : ° -' 
 
 Return you to my sister. 
 cJ'^l''''.^. . , Never, Regan: 
 
 't , -"^.'^ "'''"""l nic of lialf my train ; 
 Look .1 black upon me; struck me with her tongue, 
 Mf.st scrpcnt-hke upon the very heart:— 
 All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall 
 On her iiigrateful top! strike her young bones 
 You taking airs, with lameness! 
 
 ,'"'"• Fye fve fte' 
 
 Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding 
 names ° 
 
 Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty 
 
 T.^fnl'iltH''^,'* IT'*' '^'•''Y", ^y «"= powerful sun, 
 1 o tall and blast her pride ! 
 
 ., ■'''"?,•, ■ . , the blest gods! 
 
 so will you wish on me, when the rash mood's on. 
 
 Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have mv 
 curse; •' 
 
 Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give 
 Thee o er to harshness ; her eyes are tierce, but thine 
 Do cointort, and not burn: 'Tis not in thee 
 To grudge my pleasures, to cut olf my train. 
 To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes.i 
 And, m conclusion, to opjiose the bolt 
 Against, my Cj)ming in: thou better know'st 
 i lie odices of nature, bond of childhood 
 Kilccls ot courtesy, dues of gratitude; 
 1 My hall o the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 
 W herein I thee endovv'd. 
 
 ■''''^" Good sir, to the purpose. 
 
 Lear. Who put my man i' thi^™ck's"f"' ""'*'"■ 
 
 ^"' "■ What trumpet's that f 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 letS?"' '"^ "'s'^f's: 'his approves her 
 That she wou'ld soon be here.- Is your lady come ' 
 
 • The order of families, ■ Contract aiy allowances. 
 
 if nr. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride 
 Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows:— 
 Out, varlet, from my sight ! 
 Corn. What means your grace' 
 
 Lear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I have 
 good hope 
 Thou didst not know oft.— Who comes here ? 
 heavens, 
 
 Enter Goneril. 
 If you do love old men, if j'our sweet sway 
 AllowJ obedience, if yourselves are old. 
 Make it your cause; .send down, and take my part. 
 Art not ashamed to look upon this beard ! — 
 „ „ ., , [To Go.VERIL. 
 
 O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand > 
 
 Gon. Why not by the hand, sir! How have I 
 otlended ? 
 All's not olfcnce, that indiscretion fmds, 
 And dotage terms so. 
 
 Mtrn'"'' ■. V. ■ J , P' ^''^''^' yo" "^ '00 tough ! 
 Will you yet hold 7— How came my man i' the 
 
 stocks : 
 
 Corn. I set him there, sir : but his own disorders 
 Deserv d much less advancement. 
 
 f,'''""-. You! did you? 
 
 T^-'^^fi- I P'^y y°"' father, being weak, seem so. 
 il, till the expiration of your month, 
 You will return and sojourn witli my sister, 
 Dismissing half your train, come then to me ; 
 I am "ow from home, and out of that provision 
 Which shall be needful for your entertainment. 
 
 Lear. Return to her. and fifty men dismiss'dl 
 No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 
 To wage against the enemy o'the air; 
 To be a comrade with the wolf and owl — 
 Necessity's sharp pinch !— Return with her? 
 Why, the hot-blooded France, tiiat dowerless took 
 Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 
 To knee his throne, and,sr|uire-like, pension beg 
 To keep base life afoot :— Return with her ' 
 Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter' 
 To this detested groom. [Lixjking on the Steward. 
 
 '•en. At your choice, sir. 
 
 Lear. I pr'ytliee, daughter, do not make me mad. 
 I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: 
 We II no more meet, no more see one another:— 
 But yet thou art my fiesh,iny blood, my daughter; 
 Or, rather, a disease that's in my fiesh. 
 Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil, 
 A plague-sore, an emboss'd* carbuncle 
 In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; 
 Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: 
 1 do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot. 
 Nor tell talcs of thee to high-judging Jove; 
 Mend when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure : 
 I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, 
 I, and my hundred knights. 
 
 T /'''?•■ 1 . ^ ^°^ altogether so, sir: 
 
 1 look d not for you yet, nor am provided 
 
 t or your fit welcome : Give ear. sir, to my sister • 
 
 I or those that mingle reason with your passion. 
 
 Must be content to think you old, and so— 
 
 But she knows what she does. 
 
 ^S"^\ . Is this well spoken, now ? 
 
 Reg. I dare avouch It, sir: What, liiiyibllowers' 
 Is It not well ^ What should you need of more ' 
 \ ea, or so many 7 siths that both charge and danger 
 bpcak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one 
 
 house 
 Should many people, under two commands. 
 Hold amity 7 'Tis hard; almost impossible. 
 
 Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive at- 
 tendance 
 From those that slie calls servants, or from mine ' 
 
 Reg. \\ hy not, my lord ! If then they chanced 
 to slack you. 
 We could control them : If you will come to me 
 ([• or now I spy a danger,) 1 entreat you 
 ,.?,,.'"¥ °"' ''™ and twenty; to no more 
 Will 1 give place or notice. 
 
 Lear. I gave you all— 
 
 ^''S- And in good time von g.ave it. 
 
 ienr. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 
 But kept a reservation to be Ibllow'd 
 With such a number: What, must I come to you 
 W ith live and twenty, Regan 7 said you so 7 
 
 ^ Approve. 
 
 • A horse that cwries necessaries on a journcv. 
 
 ' S"^-lling- ; Since. 
 
Act m. Scene II. 
 
 KING LEAK. 
 
 687 
 
 eg. And speak it again, my lord ; no more with 
 me. 
 Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well- 
 la vor'd, 
 When otJiers are more wicked ; not being the worst, 
 Stands in some rank of praisp ■ — I'll go with thee ; 
 
 [ To GO.NERIL. 
 
 Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, 
 And thoa art twice her love. 
 
 Grin. Hear me, my lord ; 
 
 What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, 
 To Ibllow in a house, wiiere twice so many 
 Have a comjiiand to tend you \ 
 Re'^. What need one ? 
 
 Lear, O, reason not the need : our basest beg- 
 gars 
 Are in tfie poorest thing superfluous: 
 Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
 Alan's life is cheap as beast's: tliou art a lady; 
 If only to go warm were gorgeous, 
 Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, 
 Which scarcely keeps thee warm — But, for true 
 
 need, — 
 You heavens, give me that patience, patience I 
 
 need ! 
 You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 
 As full of grief as age ; wretched in both ! 
 If it be you that stir these daughters' iiearts 
 Against their fother, fool me not so much 
 To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger! 
 O, let not women*'s weapons, water-drops, 
 Stain my man's checks! No, you uimatural hags, 
 I will have such revenges on you botli, 
 That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 
 What they arc, yet I know not ; but they shall be 
 The terrors of the earth. You think, Til weep ; 
 No, I'll not weep : — 
 I liave full cause of weeping ; but this heart 
 
 Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 
 Or ere I'll weep: O, fool, I shall go mad! 
 
 [Exeunt Lear, Gloster. Kent, atid Fool. 
 
 Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm. 
 
 [Storm heard at a distance, 
 
 Reg. " This house 
 
 Is little; the old man and his people cannot 
 Be well bestow'd. 
 
 Gon. 'Tis his own blame; he hath put 
 
 Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly. 
 
 Reg. For his particular, I'U receive liim gladly, 
 But not one follower. 
 
 Gon. So am I purpos'd. 
 
 Where is my lord of Gloster 1 
 
 Re-enter Gloster. 
 Corn. Follow'd the old man forth ; — he is re- 
 
 turu'd. 
 Gli). The king is in high rasre. 
 Corn. Whither is he going? 
 
 Glo. He calls to horse; but will I know not 
 
 whither. 
 Corn. 'Tisbest togive him way ; he leads himself. 
 Go7i. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 
 Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak 
 winds 
 Do sorely rufile ; for many miles about 
 Thcre''s scarce a bush. 
 
 Re^. O, sir, to wilful men, 
 
 The injuries that they themselves procure. 
 Must be their schoolmasters : Shut up your doors; 
 He is attended with a desperate train; 
 And what they may incense^ him to, being apt 
 To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. 
 
 Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild 
 ni;,'Iil: 
 My Regan counsels well: come out o' the storm. 
 
 [Extant. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ Heath. 
 
 A Storm is heard, with Thunder and Lightning. 
 
 Enter Kent and a Gentleman, meeting. 
 
 Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather \ 
 
 Gent. One minded like the weather, most un- 
 quietly. 
 
 Kent. I know you ; Where's the king? 
 
 Gent. Contending with the fretful element: 
 Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
 Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 
 Tliat things niiirht change, or cease: tears his 
 
 white hair : 
 Which tlic impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage. 
 Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: 
 Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
 The to-ond-fro conllicting wind and rain. 
 This niglit. wherein the cub-drawn bear** would 
 
 couch. 
 The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
 Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, 
 And bids what will t;ike all. 
 
 Kent. But who is with him? 
 
 Gent. None but the fool; who labors to out-jest 
 His lieart-struck injuries. 
 
 Kent. Sir, I do know you ; 
 
 And dare, upon the warrant of my heart. 
 Commend a dear thin^ to you. There is division. 
 Although as yet the lace of it be coverM 
 With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ; 
 Who have (as who have not, that their great stars 
 Thron'd and set hisli ?) servants, who seem no less; 
 AVhich are to^rance the spies and speculations 
 Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen, 
 Either in snutfs and packings" of the dukes; 
 Or the hard rein which both of them have borne 
 Against the old kind king; or something deeper, 
 Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings :S — 
 But, true it is, from France there comes a power 
 Into this scatter'd kingdom ; who already, 
 Wise in our negligence, have secret feet 
 In some of our best ports, and are at point 
 
 « Whose dups arft drawn hy its youug. 
 ■t Snuffs flKi aislijieL, and packings uuderhand contri- 
 Tiinu'S. ■ Samples. 
 
 To show their open banner. — Now to 3-ou : 
 
 If on my credit you dare build so far 
 
 To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 
 
 Some that will thank you, making just report 
 
 Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
 
 The king hath cause to 'plain, 
 
 I am a gentleman of blood and breeding; 
 
 And from some knowledge and assurance, oflTer 
 
 This othce to you. 
 
 Gent. I will talk further with you. 
 
 Kent. No, do not. 
 
 For confirmation that I am much more 
 Than my out wall, open this purse, and take 
 What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia, 
 (As l{?ar not but you shall,) show her tJiis ring; 
 And she will tell you who your fellow is 
 That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm ! 
 I will go seek the king. 
 
 Gent. Give me your hand ; Have you no more to 
 say ? * 
 
 Kent. Few words, but to efTect, more than all yet; 
 That, when we have found the king, (in which 
 
 your pain 
 That way; I'll this,) he that first lights on him. 
 Holla the other. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE n.— Another Part of the Heath. 
 Storm continues. 
 Enter Leak and Fool. 
 Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! 
 blow ! 
 You cataracts, and hnrricanoes, spout 
 Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the 
 
 cocks ! 
 You sulphurous and thought-executing' fires. 
 Vaunt-couriers' to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts. 
 Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, 
 Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 
 Crack nature's moulds, all germins spill at once, 
 That make ingratelul man ! 
 Foot. O nuncle, court holy-water^ in a dry house 
 
 » Tnstij^ate. 
 
 > Quick as thought. » Avajit-couriers, French. 
 
 " A proTerbial phrase for ^ai'r words. 
 
688 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act m. 
 
 IS better than this rain-water out o' door. Good 
 nuncle, in, and ask thy daut;hters' blessing; here's 
 a niglit pities neither wise men nor tools. 
 
 Lear. Rumble thy belly-luU ! Spit, fire ! snout, 
 rain ! 
 Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters : 
 I tax not you, you elements, with unkindncss, 
 I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, 
 Vou owe me no subscription ;< why then, let tall 
 Your horrible pleasure; here I stand your slave, 
 A poor infirm, v/eak, and despised old man ;— 
 But yet I call you servile ministers. 
 That have with two pernicious daughters ioin'd 
 1 our high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head 
 So old and white as this. ! ! 'tis foul ! 
 
 Fool. He that has a house to put his head in, 
 lias a good head-piece. 
 
 The cod-piece that ivill house. 
 
 Before the head has any, 
 The head and he shall luuse,— 
 
 So beggars niarrii ninny. 
 The tnan that makes his fiie 
 
 What he his heart should make. 
 Shall of a com cry woe. 
 And turn his sleep to wake. 
 —for there was never yet fair woman, but she 
 made mouths in a glass. 
 
 Enter Kent. 
 
 Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience, I 
 will say nothing. 
 
 Kent. Who's there ? 
 
 Foot. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece ; that's 
 a wise man, and a fool. 
 
 Kent. Alas, sir, arc you here? things that love 
 night. 
 Love not such nights as these: the wrathful skies 
 GallowS the very wanderers of the dark. 
 And make them keep their caves. Since I was man 
 Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder 
 Such groans of roaring wind and rain, 1 never ' 
 
 Rcmcinber to have heard: man's nature cannot carry 
 The affliction, nor the fear. 
 
 Lear. Let the great gods, 
 
 That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads. 
 Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch 
 That hast within thee undivulged crimes, ' 
 
 Vnwliipp'd of justice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; 
 Thou perjur'd, and thou simulai* man of virtue. 
 That art incestuous: Caitilt; to pieces shake, 
 That under covert and convenient seeming 
 Hasi practised on man's lili? :— Close pent-up guilts 
 Rive your conceahng continents, and cry 
 Those dreadful suinmoncrs grace."— I am a man 
 More sinn'd against than sinning. 
 ^ A'*"?''- ■ Alack, bare-headed ! 
 
 Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel ; 
 Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest ; 
 Repose you there: while I to this hard house 
 (More hard than is the stone whereof 'lis rais'd; 
 Which even but now, demanding after you, 
 Denied me to come in) return, and Ibrce 
 Their scanted courtesy. 
 
 ^ I'''"'- , My wits begin to turn,— 
 
 Come on, my boy: How dost, my boy] Art coldl 
 
 your 
 
 I am cold myself.— Wliero is Ihis'straw, iny feliow' 
 
 The art of our necessities is strange, 
 
 That can make vile tilings precious. Come, 
 
 hovel. 
 
 Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart 
 That's sorry yet lor thee. 
 Fool. He that has a little tiny wit,— 
 
 With heigh, hii, the wind and the rain,— 
 Must make content with hit fortunes fit i 
 Fur the rain it raineth every day.» 
 Lear. True, my good boy.— Come, bring v?s to 
 this hovel. [Exeunt Lear and Keyr. 
 
 Foot. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan. 
 —I'll speak a prophecy ere I go : 
 
 Wlien priests are more in mini than matt'r; 
 
 When lircivers mar Ihiir molt irith water; 
 
 When nobles are their toibirs^ tulure ; 
 
 No heretics buru'il, but loenches'' suiturs: 
 
 Whin eveni case in. low is right ; 
 
 No squire in debt, nor no poor knight; 
 
 When slanders do nut live in tongues; 
 
 Nor cutpurses come nut to tlirimgs; 
 
 « Obedieuce. ■ Srnrn or fiigliten. « Countcfpll 
 
 ' Favor. a Part of the clown's song in Twdfth Niyt^. 
 
 When usurers tell their gold f the field ; 
 
 And bawds and ivhores do churches build;— 
 
 Then shall the realm of Album 
 
 Come to great confusion. 
 
 Then comes the time, who lives to see^t, 
 
 T'iat going shall be used with feet. 
 
 This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before 
 his tune. [i'^-i/. 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Room in Gloster's Castle. 
 Enter Gloster and Edmund. 
 
 Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this un- 
 natural dealing: When 1 desired their leave that I 
 might pity him, tliey took from me the u.se of nnne 
 own house; charged me on pain of their periietual 
 displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for 
 hull, nor any way sustain him. 
 
 Edm. Most savage, and unnatural ! 
 
 Gin. Go to; say you nothing: There is division 
 between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: 
 I have received a letter this night ;— 'lis dangerous 
 to be spoken ;— I have locked the letter in my 
 closet: these injuries the king now bears will be 
 revenged home; there is part of a power already 
 footed: we must incline to the king. 1 will seek 
 him, and privily reheve him : go you, and maintain 
 talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him 
 perceived: If he ask lor me, I am "ill, and gone to 
 bed. It I die for it, as no less is threatened me, 
 the King my old master must be relieved. There 
 IS some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, 
 be careful. [Ej-it. 
 
 Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke' 
 Instantly know; and of that letter too:— 
 This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me 
 That which my father loses; no less than all • 
 The younger rises, when the old doth fall. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Part if the Heath, with a HuveL 
 
 Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 
 Kent. Here is the place, my lord ; good mj' lord, 
 enter; » 
 
 The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
 For nature to endure. [tilurm stilL 
 
 Lear. Let me alone. 
 
 Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
 -J'.""'- , Wilt break my heart'! 
 
 Kent. 1 d rather break mine own: Good my lord, 
 
 enter. 
 Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this conten- 
 tious storm 
 Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee; 
 But where the greater malady is fix'd. 
 The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear: 
 liut II thy iliglit lay toward the raging sea. 
 Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mo'uth. When the 
 
 mind's free. 
 The body's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
 Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
 Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude ! 
 Is it not as this mouth should tear tliis hand, 
 For lilting food to't?— But I will punish home:— 
 No, 1 will weep no more.— In such a night 
 To shut me out !— Pour on ; I will endure : 
 In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneiil !— 
 Your old kind father, whose tfank heart gave all,— 
 O, that way madness lies; let me shun that: 
 No more of that. — 
 Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
 
 Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own 
 ease ; 
 This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
 On things would hurt me more.— But I'll go in : 
 In boy; go first.— [To the Fool.] You house'ess 
 
 poverty, — 
 Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.— 
 r, 1 J . ._ , [Fool goes i«. 
 
 Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are. 
 That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. 
 How shall your houseless heads, and unled sides. 
 Your loop'd, and window'd raggcdness, defisnd you 
 From seasons such as these ! O, I have ta'en 
 Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; 
 Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel; 
 That thou may'st shake the sujierflux to them, 
 And show the heavens more just. 
 Edg. [Wilhin.] Fathom and half, lUtliom and 
 ball! Poor Tom ! 
 
 [Tlie Fool runs out from the Hovel 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 689 
 
 Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here^s a spirit. 
 Help me, iielp me ! 
 Ktnt, Give me thy hand. — Who's tliere? 
 Fvol. \ spirit, a spirit ; he says liis name's poor 
 
 Tom. 
 Kent. What art thou tiiat dost grumble there 
 i' the straw t 
 Come forth. 
 
 Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman. 
 
 Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me! — 
 Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. — 
 Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 
 
 Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters! 
 yind art thou come to this ] 
 
 Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom 1 whom 
 tlie foul tiend hath led through tire and through 
 flame, through tbrd and whirlpool, over bog and 
 quagmire; that liath laid knives under his pillow, 
 and lialters in,his pew; set ratsbane by his por- 
 ridge ; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay 
 trouing-horse over four-inched bridges, to course 
 liis own shadow lor a traitor: — Blesslhy five wits ! 
 Tom's a-cold, — 0, do de, do de, do de. — Bless 
 thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking!-' 
 Do poor Tom some ctiarity, whom the ibul fiend 
 vexes; There could I have him now, — and there, 
 —and tllcre, — and there again, and there. 
 
 [Sf(rrm contiftnefi. 
 
 Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to 
 this pass! — 
 Couldst thou save nothing! Didst thou give them 
 all ! 
 
 Fool. iVa>', he reserved a blanket, else we had 
 been all shamed. 
 
 Ltar. Now, all the plagues that in the pendu- 
 lous air 
 Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters ! 
 
 Kent. He hatli no daughters, sir. 
 
 Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have sub- 
 dued nature 
 To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters.— 
 Is it the foshion, that discarded fathers 
 Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? 
 Judicious punisliment! 'twas this flesh begot 
 Those pelican daughters. 
 
 Edg. Pillicock sat on pillicock's hill; — 
 Halloo, halloo, loo, loo ! 
 
 Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools 
 and madmen. 
 
 Edg. Take heed o' (he foul fiend: obey (hv pa- 
 rents; keep thy word .justly; swear nol ; coniniit 
 not with man's sworn spouse ; set not thy sweet 
 heart on proud array : Tom's a-cold. 
 
 Lear. What hast tliou been ? 
 
 Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind ; 
 thatcurlcdmy hair; wore gloves in my cap ;i served 
 the lust of my mistress's lieart, and did the act of 
 darkness with her ; swore as many oaths as I spake 
 words, and broke I hem in the sweet lace of heaven: 
 one, that slept in the conlnvingof lust.and waked 
 to do it: Wine loved 1 deeply ; dice dearly; and in 
 woman, out-paramoured Ihe Turk; Kalse of heart. 
 Iighl 01 ear, bloody of hand: Hog in sloth, fox in 
 stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in 
 
 icy. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rust- 
 ing of silks, betray tby jioor heart to women; Keep 
 thy loot out of brothels, tliy hand out of plackets, 
 thy pen (rom lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. 
 —Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: 
 Says suum, mun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, 
 my boy, sessa; let him trot by. 
 
 [Storm still ronlinues. 
 
 Lear. Why, Ihou wert better in thy grave, than 
 to answer with Ihy uncovered body this extremity 
 of the skies.— Is man no more than this"! Con- 
 sider him well : T/iou owest tlie worm no silk, the 
 beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no per- 
 fume:— Ila! here three of us are sophisticated!— 
 Thou ajl the thing itself: unaccomniodaled man 
 is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as 
 thou art.— on; oil; you tendings :— Come ; unbut- 
 ton here. [Tearing of his Clothes. 
 
 Font. Pr ythee, nuncle, be contented ; this is a 
 naughty night to swim in.— Now a little fire in a 
 wild field were like an old lecher's heart: a smiiU 
 
 " To toAe is to blast, or strike with malignant influence. 
 > It W.1S thL> custom to ivt-nr gloves in the bat, as the 
 fevor of a mistress. 
 
 44 
 
 I 
 
 spark, all the rest of his body cold. — Look, here 
 comes a walking fire. 
 
 Edg. This is Ihe foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he 
 begins at curlew, and walks till the first cock; he 
 gives the web and the pin,^ squints the eye, and 
 makes llie hare-lip; mildews the while wheat, and 
 hurts the jioor creature of earth. 
 
 Suint WithnhP footed tlirice the umld;^ 
 lie met the night-inare, and her nine-fold; 
 Bid-hcr aiixht, 
 And her trtdh plight. 
 And aniini thee^ ivi/ch, aroint thee! 
 Kent. How fares your grace! 
 
 Enter Gloster, with a Torch. 
 Lear. What's he! 
 
 Kent. Who's there ? What is't you seek ! 
 (jlo. Wlint are you there! Your names! 
 Edg. Poor Tom ; that eats the swimming frog, 
 the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water ;o 
 that in the Uiry of his heart, when the Ibul fiend 
 rages, cats cow -dung for sallets; swallows the old 
 rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of 
 thcslaiidiiig-])nol; who is whipped from tylhingto 
 tything," and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; 
 who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to 
 his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear,- 
 
 But mice, ami rats, and such small deer. 
 Have lieen Tom^s fooil frn- seven long year. 
 
 Beware my follower:— Peace, Sniolkin;? peace, 
 thou fiend ! 
 
 GUi. What, hath your grace no better company! 
 
 Edg. The luince of darkness is a gentleman; 
 Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.9 
 
 G7o. Our (lesh and blood.niy lord, is grown so vne, 
 That it doth hate what gets it. 
 
 Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. 
 
 07«. Go in with me ; my duty cannot suite. 
 To obey in all your daughter's hard commaiida 
 Though their injunction be to bar my doors. 
 And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you 
 Vet have 1 ventured to come seek you out. 
 And bring you where both fire and Ibod is ready 
 
 l^ur. First let me talk with this philosopher.— 
 Wliat is the cause of thunder! 
 
 Kent. Good my lord, take his oiler; 
 Go into the hou.se. 
 
 Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned 
 Theban.— 
 What is your study ! 
 
 Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill ■ er- 
 niin. 
 
 I^ar. Let me ask you one word in private. 
 
 Kent. Imjioitunc him once more to go, my lord; 
 His wits begin to unsettle. 
 
 (ilo. Canst thou blame him ! 
 
 His daughters seek his death:— Ah, that good 
 
 Kent !— 
 He said it would be thus:— Poor banish'd man !— 
 Thou say'st, the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee, 
 
 Ifiend, 
 I am almost mad myself: Ihad a son. 
 Now oullaw'd from my blood ; he sought my life. 
 But lately, very late; 1 lov'd him, fiiend,— 
 No father his son dearer: true to tell thee, 
 
 [Sturm continues. 
 The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this ! 
 I do beseech your grace, — 
 
 Lear. 0, cry you mercy .• 
 
 Noble philosopher, your company. 
 
 Edg. Tom's a-colil. 
 
 Ulu. In, fellow, there, to the hovel; keep thee 
 warm. 
 
 Lear. Come, let's in all. 
 
 Kent. This way, my lord. 
 
 ^ear. With him; 
 
 I v>ill keep still with my philosopher. 
 
 Kent. (;ood my lord, soothe him; let him take 
 the fellow. 
 
 do. Take liiin you on. 
 
 Kent. Sirrah, come on; go along with us. 
 
 Lear. Come, good Athenian. 
 
 5 Diseases of the e.ve. 
 
 » A saint said to protect his devotees from the diseasa 
 called the iivjlitrmare. 
 
 •■ Wild downs, so called in various parts of England. 
 
 ' Avaunt. a ,. j. The water-newt. 
 
 ' A tything is a division of a county. 
 
 9 isame of a sphil. » The chief devil. 
 
GOO 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 No words, no words : 
 
 Gto. 
 Hush! 
 
 E(Ik. CfiilP Rowland In the dark inwer came. 
 
 His word was f-lill. — Fie, fnh, awl fain, 
 
 I smell the blnud of a lirilitih man. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— .^ Room in Gloster's Ca-Me. 
 Enter Cornwall and Edmund. 
 
 Corn. 1 will have my revenge, ere I depart his 
 house. 
 
 Edin. How, my lord, I may be censured, that 
 nnturc thus gives way to loyalty, something fears 
 me to think of. 
 
 Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your 
 brother's evil disposition made him seek his death; 
 but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reproveable 
 badness in himseltl 
 
 £din. How malicious is my fortune, that I must 
 repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, 
 which approves him an intelligent party to the ad- 
 vantages of France. O heavens! that this treason 
 were not. or not I the detector ! 
 
 Vorn. Go with me to the duchess. 
 
 Edni. If the matter of this paper be certain, you 
 have mighty business in hand. 
 
 Corn. Triie, or (iilse, it hath made the* earl of 
 Glostor. Seek out where thy lather is, that he 
 may be ready for our apprehension. 
 
 Edm. [Aside.] If 1 hnd him comforting the 
 king, it Will stulT his suspicion more fully.— I will 
 persevere in my course of loyalty, though the con- 
 flict be sore between that and my blood. 
 
 Cum. 1 will lay trust upon thee; and thou shall 
 find a dearer father in my love. [Exeunt. 
 
 .SCENE VI.— ^ Chamber in a Furm-House, 
 adjoining the Custle. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Lkah, Kent, Fool, and Edgar. 
 
 Gin. Here is better than the open air; take it 
 thankfully; I will piece out the comtiirt with what 
 addition I can; 1 will not be long from you. 
 
 Kent. All the power of his wits has given way 
 to his impatience:— The gods reward your kind- 
 ness! [Exit GwstEa. 
 
 Edg. Frateretto calls me ; and tells me, Nero is 
 an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, inno- 
 cent,2 and beware the foul fiend. 
 
 Frji^l. Pr'ythee, nuncie.tell me, whether a mad- 
 man b^ a gentleman, or a yeoman ! 
 
 Lear. A king, a king ! 
 
 Fool. No; he's a yeoman that has a gentleman 
 to his son : thr he's a mad yeoman that sees his 
 son a gentleman before him. 
 
 Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits 
 Come hissing in upon them; — 
 
 Edg. The foul liend bites my back. 
 
 Fold. He's mad, that trusts in the lameness of a 
 wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's 
 oath. 
 
 Lear. It shall be done, I will arraign them 
 straight: — 
 Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer; — 
 
 [ To Edgah. 
 Thou, sapient sir, sit here. [Tu the Fool.]— Now, 
 you she-foxes ! — 
 
 Elg. Look, where he stands and glares ! — 
 Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam? 
 
 Come o'er the hourn? Bessij, to me:— 
 
 Fool. Jlcr bout hath a leak, 
 
 And she m.it!<l not speak 
 IVhi/ she dare not come over to thee. 
 
 Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the 
 voice of a nightingale. Ilopdance cries in Tom's 
 belly liir two white herrings. Croak not, black 
 angel; I have no food for thee. 
 
 Kent. How do you.-tir? Stand you not so 
 amaz'd : 
 Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions'! 
 
 Lear. I II see their trial first ;— Bring in the evi- 
 dence. — 
 Thou robed man of justice, take thy place; 
 ..,,., [To Edoah. 
 
 And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, [To tite Fool. 
 Clold is an old name for kni.i;ht. 
 
 « Ajarcssed to the i'ool, who were anriently colled In- 
 " KWita. : Blwk, or rfvulot. 
 
 Bench by his side:— You are of the commission, 
 Sit you too. [ To- Kent. 
 
 Edg. Let us deal justly. 
 
 Steepest, or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? 
 
 Thy sheep be in the corn ; 
 And for one blast of thij minikin mouth, 
 Thy sheep will take no harm. 
 Pur! the cat is gray. 
 
 Lear. Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take 
 my oath before this honorable assembly, she kicked 
 the poor king her father. 
 
 Fonl. Come hither, mistress; Is your natue Go- 
 neril ? 
 Lear. She cannot deny it. 
 
 FooL Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint- 
 stool. 
 Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd looks 
 proclaim 
 What store her heart is made of. — ,'yop her there! 
 Arms.arms. sword, fire !— Corruption in the placej 
 False justieer, why hast thou let her 'scape T 
 Edg. Bless thy five wit.s! 
 
 Kail. pity! — Sir, where is the patience now, 
 That you so oft have boasted to retain ? 
 
 Edg. My tears begin to take his part so much, 
 They'll mar my counterfeiting. [Aside- 
 
 Lear. The little dogs and all. 
 Traf. Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they hark at me. 
 
 Edg. Tom will throw his head at them: — 
 Avaunt, you curs ! 
 
 Be thy mouth or black or lohite, 
 T"olh llial judsons if' it bite ; 
 Masltjd', greyhound, mongrel grim, 
 Hound., or sfxiaiel, bruch. or hini;'^ 
 (Ir holdinl like, or trundU-tnil ; 
 Tom will fuakr llieni weep and wail: 
 For, With llinuring thus my head, 
 Liog.'y' leap the hutch, and all arejleil. 
 Do de, do de. Sessa. Come, march to wakes and 
 fairs, and market towns:— Poor Tom, thy horn is 
 dry. 
 
 Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan, see what 
 breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in na- 
 ture that makes these hard hearts !— You, sir, I 
 entertain you for one of my hundred; only, I do 
 not like the fashion of your garments: you will 
 say, they are Persian attire ; but let them be changed. 
 
 [To Edgar. 
 Kent. Now.good my lord, liehere.and rest awhile. 
 Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the 
 curtains: So,so,so: We'll go to supper i' the morn- 
 ing : So, so. so. 
 Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon. 
 
 Re-Entcr Gloster. 
 Gin. Come hither, friend: Where is the king 
 
 my master ? 
 Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits 
 
 are gone. 
 Gto. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy 
 arms; 
 I have o'crheard a plot of death upon him: 
 There is a litter ready; lay him in't. 
 And drive towards Dover, friend, wliere thou shall 
 
 meet 
 Both welcome and protection. Take up thy 
 
 master. 
 If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life. 
 With thine, and all that olfer to defend him, 
 Stand in assured loss: Take up, take up; 
 And Ibllow me, that will with some provision 
 Give thee quick conduct. 
 
 Kent. Oppress'd nature sleeps: — 
 
 This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, 
 Which, if convenience will not allow. 
 Stand in hard cure. — Come, help to bear thy master; 
 Thou mu.st not stay behind. [To 'the Fool. 
 
 Glo. Come, come, away. 
 
 [E.reunt Kent. Gloster, and tlie Fool, 
 bearing off the King. 
 Edg. When we our betters see hearing our woes, 
 We scarcely think our miseries our ii)es. 
 Who alone sullers, sutlers most i' tiio mind; 
 Leaving tree Ihings. and happy sb.ow.s, liehind: 
 But then thr mind much sulleranco doth o'erskip 
 When griel hath males, and bearing IcUowship. 
 How light and portable my pain seems now, 
 
 * A bloodhound. 
 
Scene VII. 
 
 KING LEAK. 
 
 691 
 
 When that which makes me bend, makes the king 
 
 bow ; 
 He childed, as I father'd ! — Tom, an-ay : 
 Mark the liifih noises ;5 and thyself bewray. 
 Wlicn false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles 
 
 thee, 
 In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee. 
 What vvill hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king ! 
 Lurk, lurk. I Exit. 
 
 SCENE VII.— /I Room in Gloster's Castle. 
 
 Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonekil, Edmund, and 
 Servants. 
 Corn. Post speedily.to my lord, your husband; 
 sliowhimthisletter: — tJic armyof France is landed. 
 Seek out the villain Oloster. 
 
 [Exeunt some of ilie Servants. 
 Rp^. Hang him instantly. 
 Guti. Pluck out liis eyes. 
 
 Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, 
 keep you our sister company ; the revenges we are 
 bound to take upon your traitorous father are not 
 fit for your bcliolding. Advise the duke, where you 
 are going, to a most festinate preparation : we are 
 biiuuil to the like. Our posLs shall be swift, and 
 iiiteIHgent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister; — 
 farewell, my lord of Glostcr.6 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 How now? Wiiere's tlie king? 
 Stew. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him 
 hence: 
 Some five or six and thirty of his knights. 
 Hot questrists" after him, njet liim at gate ; 
 Who, with some otiier of the lord's dependants. 
 Are gone witli Iiim towards Dover, where they boast 
 To have well-armed friends. 
 Corn. Get horses for your mistress. 
 
 Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 
 
 [Exeunt Goneril and Edmcnd. 
 Corn. Edmund, farewell. — Go, seek the traitor 
 Gloster, 
 Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us : 
 
 [Exeunt otfier Servants. 
 Though well we may not pass upon his lite 
 Without tlie form of Justice ; yet our power 
 Shall do a courtesy^ to ourwratii, which men 
 May blame but not control. Who's there? The 
 traitor. 
 
 Re-enter Servants, ivitlt Gloster. 
 Reg. Ingrateful fox ! 'tis he. 
 Corn. Bind fast his corkys arms. 
 
 Glo. What mean your graces ] Good my 
 
 friends, consider 
 Yon are my guests; do me no foul play, friends. 
 Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants fttnrf Aim. 
 
 Reg. Hard, hard :— O filthy traitor ! 
 
 Gtv. Unmerciful lady .as you are, 1 am none. 
 Corn. To this cliair l)ind him: — Villain, thou 
 
 gnobly done, 
 
 slialt find— [Regan piueks ftis Beard. 
 
 Gio. By the Idnd gods, 'tis most igi 
 To pluck me by tlie beard 
 
 Reg. So white, and such a traitor ! 
 
 Glo. Naughty lady. 
 
 These hairs, which tliou dost ravish I'rom my chiii. 
 Will quicken" and accuse thee : I am your host; 
 With robtier's liaiids, my hospitatile tavors2 
 You should not ruffle tlius. What will you do? 
 
 Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late ft'om 
 France? 
 
 Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth. 
 
 Corn. And what confederacy have you with the 
 traitors 
 Late footed in the kingdom ? 
 
 Reg. To whose hands have you sent tlie lunatic 
 king? 
 Speak. 
 
 Gto. I liave a letter guessingly set down. 
 Which came from one that's of a neutral heart. 
 And not from one oppos'd. 
 
 Cor, Cunning. 
 
 Reg. And false. 
 
 Corn. Where hast thou sent the king ? 
 
 Glo. To Dover. 
 
 6 The gre.lt events th.at Jire appro.aching. 
 
 6 Meuninj; Edmund invosttd wilh bis fjtther's title. 
 
 ' Inquirer.s. • Beud. n Dry. like cork. 
 
 ' Live. 3 Features. 
 
 Reg. Wherefore 
 
 To Dover ? Wast thou not charged at thy peril — 
 Com. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer 
 
 that. 
 Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand tho 
 
 course. 
 Reg. Wherefore to Dover? 
 Gin. Because I would not see thy cruel nails 
 Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister 
 In his anointed flesh stick boarish tangs. 
 The sea. with such a storm as his bare head 
 In hell-hlacknightendur'd, would have huoy'd up. 
 And quench'd the stelled^ fires; yet, poor old 
 
 heart. 
 He holp the heavens to rain. 
 If wolves had at thy gate howPd that stern time, 
 Thou shouldst have said, G'oo^por/er,/»;-;i thekey ; 
 AH cruels else snb.scribed:^ — But 1 shall see 
 The winged vengeance overtake such children, 
 Cm-n. See it shalt thou never; — Fellows, iiold 
 the chair: 
 Upon these eyes of thine Til set my foot, 
 
 [Gloster is lield down in his Cliair, white 
 Cornwall plnckf out one of tiis Eyes, 
 and sets his Foot on it. 
 Gto. He, that will think to live till he be old. 
 Give me some help : — O cruel ! O ye gods ! 
 Reg. One side will mock another; the otlier too. 
 C>n-n. If you see vengeance, — 
 Sen: Hold your hand, my lord : 
 
 I have serv'd you ever since I was a child ; 
 But better service have 1 never done you. 
 Than now to bid you hold. 
 Reg. How now, you dog ? 
 Serr. If you did' wear a beard upon your chin. 
 I'd shake it on this quarrel : What do you mean ? 
 C<trn. My villain! [Draws and runs at him. 
 Serv. Nay, then come on, and take the cliance 
 of anger. 
 [Draws. They fight. C>msv!KU,vi wounded, 
 Reg. Give me thy sword.— [To another Servant.] 
 
 A peasant "stand up thus ! 
 [ Snatche.s a sword, comes behind, and stabs him. 
 Serv. O, I am slain! — My lord^ you have one 
 eye left 
 To see some mischief on him: — O! [Dies. 
 
 Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it:— Out, vile 
 jelly ! 
 Where is thy lustre now? 
 [Tearsout Gloster's other Eye, and throws it on 
 
 the Ground. 
 Glo. All dark and comfortless. — Where's my son 
 Edmund ? 
 Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, 
 To quit' this horrid act. 
 
 Reg. Out, treacherous villain ! 
 
 Thou call'st on him that hates thee : it was he 
 That made the overture^ of thy treasons to us; 
 Who is too good to pity thee. 
 
 Gh. my follies ! 
 
 Then Edgar was abused. — 
 Kind gods, Ibrgive me that, and prosper him ! 
 
 Reg. Go.thrusthimoutatgates.and let himsmell 
 His way to Dover. — How is't, my lord? How look 
 you? 
 Corn. I have received a hurt: — Follow me, 
 lady.— 
 Turn out that eyeless villain ; throw this slave 
 Upon the dunghill. — Regan, I bleed ap.ace: 
 Untimely comes this hurt : Give me your arm. 
 
 [Exit Cornwall, led by Regan ; — Servants 
 unbind Gloster, and lead him out. 
 
 1 Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do. 
 If this man comes to good. 
 
 2 Serv. If she live long. 
 And, in the end, meet the old course of death, 
 Women will all turn monsters. 
 
 1 Serv. Let's (bllow the old earl, and get the 
 
 Bedlam' 
 To lead him where he would; his roguish madness 
 Allows ifself to any thing. 
 
 2 Serv. Go thou ; I'll (etch some ilax, and whites 
 
 of eggs. 
 To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help 
 him ! 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 ' starred. 
 
 « Yielded, submitted to the necessity of the occasion. 
 
 ' lle(iuite. • Laid open. ' Dedi-imito. madm:in. 
 
692 
 
 KING LEAK. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.-Thelkath. 
 Enter Edgar. 
 
 Edi::. Yet better thus, and known to be contcmn''d, 
 Tlian still contemn'd and flattcrVl. To be worst, 
 The loweKt and most dejected thing of fortune, 
 Stands still in esperance,^ lives not in fear: 
 Theiamentiible change is from the best; 
 Tlio worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, 
 rhou unsubstantial air, that I embrace! 
 The wretch, tliat thou hast blown unto the worst, 
 Owes nothing to thy blasts. — Butwho comes horel 
 
 Enter Gloster, led by an Old Man. 
 My father, poorly led? — World, world, world ! 
 4ut that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
 Life would not yield to age. 
 
 Old Man. my good lord, I have been your te- 
 nant and your father's tenant, these fourscore years. 
 
 Glo. Away, get thee away; good trirnd, begone: 
 Thy conlforts can do me no good at all, 
 Thee they may hurt. 
 
 Old Mini. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. 
 
 Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; 
 I stumbled when I saw: Full oft 'lis seen, 
 Our mean secures us; and our mere defects 
 Trove our commodities. — Ah, dear son Edgar, 
 The food of thy abused father's wratli ! 
 Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 
 I'd say. I had my eyes again ! 
 
 Old' hi an. How now] Who's there? 
 
 Edg. [Aside.'] O gods ! Who is't can say, / am at 
 the worst? 
 I am worse than e'er I was. 
 
 Old Man, 'Tis poor mad Tom. 
 
 Edg. [Aside.'] And worse 1 may be yet; TJie 
 worst is not, 
 So long as we c^n say, This is the ivorst. 
 
 Old Man. Fellow, where goesf.' 
 
 Glo. Is it a beggar-man \ 
 
 Old Man. Madman and beggar too. 
 
 Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg. 
 
 V the last night's storm I such a lellow saw; 
 Which made me tliink a man a worm: My son 
 Came then into my mind; and yet my mind 
 Was tlien scarce tiiends with liim: 1 have heard 
 
 more since: 
 As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods ; 
 They Idll us lor their sport. 
 
 Edg. How should tliis be? — 
 
 Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow, 
 Ang'riiig itself and others. [Aside] — Bless thee, 
 master ! 
 
 Glo, Is that the naked fellow? 
 
 Old Man. Ay, my lord. 
 
 (;/w.Then,pr'ythee, get thee gone: It, for my sake, 
 TIiou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain, 
 
 V tlie way to Dover, do it for ancient love; 
 And b'ring some covering for this naked soul, 
 Wliom ril entreat to lead me. 
 
 Old Man. Alack sir, he's mad. 
 
 Glo. 'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead 
 the blind. 
 Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure ; 
 Above the rest, be gone. 
 
 Old iU(7». I'll bring him thebest 'j>arel tiiatlliave, 
 Come on't what will. . [Exit. 
 
 Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow. 
 
 Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold: I canr.ot daub" it fur- 
 ther, [Aside. 
 
 Glo, Come hither, fellow. 
 
 Edg, [Aside.] And yet I must.— Bless thy sweet 
 eyes, they bleed. 
 
 Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover? 
 
 Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot- 
 path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good 
 wits: Bless the good man from the foul fiend! 
 Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once ; of lust, 
 as. Obidicut; Ilubbididnjice, prince of (himl>ness ; 
 ^1/r//ju, of stealing; J^A^/o, of murder; and FUhha-- 
 iigihbef. of moi)pini; :uid mowing; who since \wa- 
 sosses chamber-maids and waiting-women. So 
 bless thee, master! 
 
 s In liopo. ■ Disguise. 
 
 Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom tlie hea- 
 vens' plagues 
 Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched, 
 Makes thee the happier : — Heavens, deal so still ! 
 Let the,superlluous, and lu&t-dieted man, 
 That slaves your ordinance, that will not see 
 Because he doth not icel, feel your power quickly ; 
 So distribution should undo excess. 
 And each man have enough. — Dost thou krow 
 Dover ! 
 
 Edg. Ay, master, 
 
 (;/f>. There is a clill", whose high and bending head 
 Looks fearfully in the confined deep: 
 Bring me but to the very brim of it. 
 And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear. 
 With soniethirg rich about mc; from liiat place 
 I shall no leading need. 
 
 Edg. Give me thy arm ; 
 
 Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Ejceunt. 
 
 SCENE U —Before the Duke o/' Albany's Palace. 
 
 Enter Goneril and Edmund; Steward meeting 
 
 them. 
 
 Gon. Welcome, my lord : I marvel, our mild 
 husband 
 Not met us on the way: — Now, where's your 
 master? 
 
 Stew. Madam, within ; but never man so changed : 
 I told iiim of tJie army that was landed; 
 He smil'd at it: I told him you were coming; 
 His answer was, The worse: of Gloster's treachery, 
 And of the loyal service of his son, 
 Wlien I inforin'd him, then he call'd me sot; 
 And told me, I had turn'd the wrong side out: — 
 Whatmosthe should dislike, seems pleasant to him; 
 What like, olicnsivc. 
 
 Gun. Then shall you go no further. 
 
 [To Edmund. 
 It is the cowish terror of his spirit. 
 That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs. 
 Which tie him to an answer: Ourwishes.on theway, 
 May prove etlects.' Back, Edmund, to my brother: 
 Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers: 
 I must change arms at home, and give the distaff 
 Into my husband's hands. This trusty sen-ant 
 Shall pass between us : ere long you are like to hear. 
 If you dare venture in your own behalf, 
 A mistress's command. Wear this: spare speech; 
 [Giinng a Favor, 
 Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak, 
 Would stretch thy spirits up into the air; — 
 Conceive, and fare thee well. 
 
 Edni. Vours in the ranks of death. 
 
 Gon. My most dear Gloster! 
 
 [Exit Edmund. 
 0, the difliereuce of man, and man ! To thee 
 A woman's services are due ; my fool 
 Usurps my bed. 
 
 Stew. Madam, here comes my lord. 
 
 [Exit Steward. 
 Eiiier Albany. 
 
 Gon. I have been worth the whistle.^ 
 
 Alb. Goneril 
 
 You are not worth the dust which the rude wind 
 Blows in your face.— I fear your disposition; 
 That nature, which contemns its origin, 
 Cannot be border'd certain in itself; 
 She that herself will slivei-3 and disbranch 
 Froiu her material sap, perforce must wither 
 And come to deadly use. 
 
 Gon. No more ; the text is foolish. 
 
 Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: 
 Filths savor but themselves. What have you done! 
 Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd? 
 A lather, and a gracious aged man, 
 Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick% 
 Most barbarous. most degenerate! have you madded. 
 Couid my good brother suiler you to do it? 
 A man, a prince, by him so benctited ] 
 If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 
 * i. *:. Our wishes nn the road may l>o completed, 
 a Worth callius for. "■ Tear cH. 
 
Scene IT. 
 
 KING LEAK. 
 
 693 
 
 Send quickly down to tame these viie offences, 
 'Twill come, 
 
 Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 
 LilvO monsters of the deep. 
 
 Gun. Milk-Iiver'd man ! 
 
 That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head tor wrongs ; 
 Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 
 Thine honor from thy sullerin;;; that not know'st 
 Fools do those villains pity, who are punisli'd 
 Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy 
 
 drum? 
 France spreads his banners in our noiseless land; 
 With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats ; 
 Whilst thou, a moral iool, sit'st still, and cry'st, 
 A lack.' why floes he so? 
 
 Alb. See thyself, devil! 
 
 Proper deformity seems not in the licnd 
 So horrid, as in woman. 
 
 Con. vain fool !_ 
 
 Alb. Thou changed and scllK;over'd thing, for 
 shame, 
 Be-monster not thy feature. Were it my fitness 
 To let these hands obey my blood. 
 They are apt enough to dislocate and tear 
 Thy flesh and bones:— Howc'er thou art a fiend, 
 A woman's shape doth shield thee. 
 
 Gon. Marry, your manhood now ! 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Alb. What news T 
 
 Mess. O, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's 
 dead ! 
 Slain by his servant, going to put out 
 The other eye of Gloster. 
 
 Alb. Gloster's eyes ! 
 
 Mess. A servant that he bred, thriU'd with re- 
 morse, 
 Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword 
 To his great master; who, thereat enraged. 
 Flew on him. and amongst them fell'd liim dead: 
 But not without that harmful stroke, which since 
 Hath pluck'd him after. 
 
 Alb. This shows you arc above, 
 
 You justicers, that these our nether crimes 
 So speedily can venge ! — But, O poor Gloster ! 
 Lost he his other eye 1 
 
 Mess. Both, both, my lord. — 
 
 This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 
 'Tis from your sister. 
 
 Gon. \^Aside.'\ One way I like this well; 
 But being widow, and my Gloster with her, 
 May all the building in my fancy pluck 
 Upon my hateful lile : Another way, 
 The news is not so tart. — I'll read, and answer. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his 
 eyes ] 
 
 Mess. Come with my lady hither. 
 
 Alb. He is not here. 
 
 Mess. No, my good lord; I met him back again. 
 
 Alb. Knows he the wickedness ? 
 
 Mess. Ay. my good lord; 'twas he inform'd 
 against liim; 
 And quit the house on purpose, that their punish- 
 ment 
 Might have the freer course. 
 
 Alb. Gloster, I live 
 
 To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king. 
 And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend, 
 Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Ul.—Tke French Cump near Dover. 
 Enter Kent and a Gentleman. 
 
 Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly 
 goue back, know yon the reason 1 
 
 Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state. 
 Which since his coining forth is thought of; which 
 Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger. 
 That his personal return was most requir'd. 
 And necessary. 
 
 Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? 
 
 Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer. 
 
 Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any 
 demonstration of grief! 
 
 Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my 
 presence ; 
 And now and then an ample tear triU'd down 
 Her delicate cheek; it seem'd, she was a queen 
 Over her passion; who, most rebel-like. 
 Sought to be king o'er her. 
 
 Kent. 0, then it raov'd her. 
 
 Gent. Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove 
 Wlio should express her goodliest. You have seen 
 Suusliine and rain at once: her smiles and tears 
 Were like a better day: Tliose" happy smiles, 
 Tliat plaj'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
 What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, 
 Aspearls from diamonds 'dropp'd. — In brief, sorrow 
 Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all 
 Could so become it. 
 
 Kent. Made she no verbal question !■• 
 
 Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name 
 of Father 
 Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her Jieart ; 
 Cried, Sisters! sisters.' — Shame rf tadiesf sisters! 
 Kent! father! sisters! What? i' ttie storm? V t/ie 
 
 niiilit? 
 Let pity not be believed!^ — There she shook 
 Tlie holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
 And clamor nioistcu'd ? then away she started 
 To deal with grief alone. 
 
 Kent. It is the .•^tars. 
 
 The stars above us, govern our conditions ;6 
 Else one self mate and mate could not beget 
 Such dilli^rentissues. You spoke not with hcrsincel 
 
 Gent. No. 
 
 Kent. Was this before the king return'd ! 
 
 Gent. No, since. 
 
 Kent. Well, six; the poor distress'd Lear is i' the 
 town : 
 Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers 
 What we are come about, and by no means 
 Will yield to see his daughter. 
 
 Geiil. Why, good sir ' 
 
 Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: his 
 own unkindness. 
 That stripp'd her I'rom his benediction, turn'd her 
 To Ibroign ca.^uolties, gave her dear rights 
 To his dog-hearted daughters, — these things sting 
 His mind so venomously, that burniiig shame 
 Detains him from Cordelia. 
 
 Gent. Alack, poor gentlem.in ! 
 
 Ke/it. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you 
 heard not 1 
 
 Gent. 'Tis so; they are afoot. 
 
 Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, 
 And leave jou to attend him: some dear cause, 
 Will in concealment wrap rae up awhile ; 
 When I am known aright, you shall not grieve 
 Lending nu^ this acquaintance. I pray you. go 
 Along with me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— rA« .same. A Tent. 
 Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers. 
 
 Cnr. .\lack, 'tis he ; why, he was met even now 
 As mad as the vex'd sea : singing aloud ; 
 Crown'tl witli rank fumiter.^ and furrow weeds. 
 With liarlocks.s hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-ilow'ers, 
 Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 
 In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth; 
 Search every acre in the high-grown field. 
 And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.] — 
 
 What can man's wisdom do. 
 In the restoring his bereaved sense ? 
 He, that helps him, take all my outwaid worth. 
 
 Phu. There is means, madam : 
 Our loste.r-nurse of nature is repose. 
 The which he lacks ; that to provoke in him, 
 Are many simples operative, whose power 
 Will close the eye of anguish. 
 
 Car. -AH bless'd secrets. 
 
 All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth. 
 Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate. 
 In the good man's distress! — Seek, seek for him; 
 Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the hfe 
 That wants the means to lead it. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Madam, news; 
 
 The British powers are marching hitherward. 
 
 Cor. 'Tis known betbre: our preparation stands 
 In exiiectatioii of them. — O dear liither. 
 It is (by business that I go about; 
 Thereliire great France 
 
 My mourning, and important^ tears, hath pitied. 
 No blown' ambition doth our arms incite, 
 
 • Piscriurse, conversation. 
 
 • I. e. bet not pity bo supposed to exist. 
 
 « Di?popitions. ' Fumitory. ■ Clmrloc'rcs. 
 
 • Importunate. » Inflated, swelling. 
 
694 
 
 KING LEAK. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 ; stay with us; 
 
 But love, dear love, and our aged father's risht : 
 Soon may I hear, and see him. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— A Room in Gloster's Ciui/le. 
 Enter Regan and Stew^ard. 
 Re^. But are my brother's powers set forth 7 
 f,'f '• Ay, madam. 
 
 , ^''=- .. , Himself 
 
 In person there i 
 
 S/eiu. Madam, with much ado : 
 
 Vour sister is the better soldier. 
 Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at 
 
 home ! 
 Stew. No, madam. 
 
 Reg. What miRht import my sister's letter to him ' 
 Wftt'. I know not. huly. 
 
 Reg. 'Faith, he is ])osted hence on serious matter. 
 It was Kreat ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out, 
 To let him live ; where he arrives.'he moves 
 All hearts against us: E<l]uund, I think, is gone, 
 la pity of his misery, to dispatch 
 His nightcd life; moreover, to descry 
 The strength o' the enemy. 
 Htcw. I must needs after him, madam, %rith mv 
 letter. ^ 
 
 Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow 
 The ways are dangerous. 
 
 Stew. I may not, madam: 
 
 Mj- lady charged my duty in this business. 
 Meg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might 
 not you 
 Transport her purposes by word ? Belike, 
 Something— I know not what:— I'll love thee 
 
 much. 
 Let me unseal the letter, 
 ■^'f"'- Madam, I had rather— 
 
 iif,£r.lkTiow, your lady does not love her husband: 
 I am sure of that: and, at her late being here, 
 She gavestrange ffiiliads.-and most speaking looks 
 To noble Edmund : I know you are of her bosom. 
 Stew. I, madam ? 
 
 Reg.l speak in understanding; you are, I 
 know it: 
 Therefore, I do advise you, take this note ;' 
 My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talk'd ; 
 And more convenient is he lor my hand, 
 Than lor your lady's:— You may gather more. 
 It you do lind him, pray you, give him this: 
 And when your mistress hears thus much from you, 
 I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. 
 So, fare you well. 
 
 If yon do chance to hear of that blind traitor 
 Preferment falls on him that cuts him oil; ' 
 Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam ; I would 
 show 
 What party I do follow. 
 ^^tK. Fare thee well. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Yl.—Tfie Country near Dover. 
 Enter Gi.oSTEH, and Edoar ilre.ssed tike a Peasant. 
 Glu. When shall we come to the top of that same 
 
 look, how we 
 
 n. 
 
 Horrible steep; 
 
 No, truly. 
 
 hill? 
 Edg. You do climb up it now 
 
 labor. 
 GIti. Methinks, the ground is even, 
 
 Hark", do you hear the sea ? 
 
 Gtu. _ ^. 
 
 Edg. Why,then your other senses grow imperfect 
 Ey your eyes anguish. 
 
 /'/"• So may it be, indeed : 
 
 Jlefhinks, thy voice is alter 'd ; and thou spcak'st 
 In heller phrase, and matter, than thou didst. 
 E<lg. You are much deeeiv'd; in nothing am I 
 eiianged. 
 But in my garments. 
 
 Glo. Methinks, you are better spoken. 
 
 Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place .-—stand 
 still.— How fearful 
 And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low ! 
 'I lie crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, 
 Miow scarce so gross as beetles: Halfway down 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire;' dreadful trade' 
 Moihinks, he seems no bigger than his head : 
 The lishermen, that walk upon the beach. 
 Appear like mice; and you" tall anchoring bark, 
 5 A cast, or significant glance of the eye. 
 " Oi'serve what I am saving. 
 * A vegetable gathered fur pickling. 
 
 Diminish'd to her cock;' her cock, a buoy 
 Almost too small for sight: The murmuring 
 surge, " 
 
 That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, 
 Cannot be heard so high :— I'll look no more : 
 Lest my brain turn, and the dehcieut sight 
 Topple'i down headlong. 
 
 ^J-"- Set me where you stand. 
 
 Edg. Give me your hand: You are now within 
 a foot 
 Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon 
 Would I not leap upright. 
 ,, ^'^'-^ . . Let go my hand. 
 
 Here, friend, is another purse; in it a jewel 
 Well worth a poorman's taking: Fairies, and gods, 
 Prosper it with thee! Go thou further oil'; 
 Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 
 
 Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. 
 
 „, [Seems to go, 
 
 GLo. With all my heart. 
 
 Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his despair. 
 Is done to cure it. 
 
 tF^"' 1^,.. you mighty gods! 
 
 I his world I do renounce ; and. in your sights, ' 
 Shake patiently my great affliction oil': 
 
 II 1 could bear it longer, and not fall 
 To quarrel with your great opposeless wills. 
 My snuir, and loathed part of nature, should 
 Burn Itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him 1— 
 Now fellow, fare thee well. 
 
 [He leaps, and falls along. 
 ,^''S- Gone, sir? farewell.— 
 
 And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
 The treasury of life, when life itself 
 Yields to the theft: Had he been where he thought. 
 By this, had thought been past.— Alive, or dead? 
 Ho, you sir ! fi-iend !— Hear you ! sir?— speak. 
 Thus might he pass indeed :'— Yet he revives : 
 What are you, sir ? 
 Gl". Away, and let me die. 
 
 Edg. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, 
 feathers, air. 
 So many fathom down precipitating. 
 Thou hadst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost 
 
 breathe; 
 Hast heavy substance; blced'st not; speak'st; art 
 
 sound. 
 Ten masts at each make not the allitude, 
 Which thou hast perpendicularly fell; 
 Thy life's a miracle : Speak vet again. 
 GJo. But have I fallen, or no ? 
 hdg. From the dread summit of this chalky 
 bourn ; 
 Look np a-height ;— the shrill-gorgeds lark so far 
 Cannot be seen or heard : do but lookup. 
 
 Glu. Alack, I have no eyes. — 
 Is wretchedness deprived that benefit. 
 To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort 
 When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage. 
 And frustrate his proud will. 
 
 Edg. Give mc your arm : 
 
 L p :— so ;— How is't ? Feel you your legs ? You 
 stand. 
 Glo. Too well, too well. 
 
 Edg. This is above all strangeness. 
 
 Upon the crown o' the clift', what thing was that 
 \Vhich jiarted from you ? 
 f''"- A poor unfortunate beggar. 
 
 Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his eyes 
 Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses. 
 Horns whellc'd," and waved like the enridged sea • 
 It was some liend: Therefore, thou happy lather. 
 Think that the clcaresti gods, who make them 
 
 honors 
 Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. 
 
 Gin. I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear 
 Affliction, till it do cry out itself 
 Enougit, enough, and die. That thing you speak of, 
 I took it for a man ; often 'twould say. 
 The fiend, the fend: he led me to that place. 
 Edg. Bear free and i>atient thoughts.— But who 
 conies here ? 
 
 Enter Lear, fanta.it ically dressed up with 
 Flowers. 
 The .safer sense will ne'er accommodate 
 His master thus. 
 
 • Her cuck-bnat. 
 
 1 TIm.s mif^ht be die in reality. 
 
 » Twisted, convolved. 
 
 • Tumble. 
 
 • Shrillthroiited. 
 
 • The purest. 
 
Scene VI. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 695 
 
 Lear. No, they cannot touch mc for coining; 
 I am the king himself. 
 Edg. O thou side-piercing sight ! 
 Lear. Nature'saboveart in thatrespcct.— There s 
 your press-money. Tiiat fellowhandles his bow hke 
 a crow-keeper: draw me a clotJiier's yard.-— Look, 
 look, a mouse! Peace, peace ; — this piece of toasted 
 cheese will do"t,— There's my gauntlet; I'll prove 
 it on a giant.— Bring up the brown biils.^— O, well 
 flown, bird!— i' the clout, i' the ciout:^ hewgh !— 
 G]ve the word.'' 
 £ilg. Sweet marjoram. 
 Lear. Pass. 
 
 67/1. I know that voice. 
 
 Lear. Ha! Goneril ! — with a white beard ! — They 
 flatter'd me like a dog; and told me, 1 had wlnle 
 hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. 
 To say ay. and nrj, to every thing I said ! — Ay and 
 no too' was no good divinity. When the rain came 
 to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; 
 when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; 
 there 1 found them, there I smelt them out. Go to, 
 they are not men o' their words : they told mc I was 
 everything; 'tis a lie ; I am not ague-proof. 
 
 Gin. The trick^ot that voice 1 do well remember: 
 Is't not the king] 
 
 Lear. Ay, every inch a king: 
 
 When I do stare, sec, how the subject quakes. 
 I pardon that man's life; what was thy cause? — 
 AduUerii. — 
 
 Thou sHalt not die: Die for adultery ! No: 
 The wren goes to't, and the small gilded Hy 
 Docs lecher in my sight. 
 
 Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son 
 Was kinder to his father, than my daughters 
 Got 'tween the lawful sheets, 
 To't, luxury, pell-mell, for 1 lack soldiers. — 
 Behold yon' simpering dame. 
 Whose face between her forks presageth snow ; 
 That mincclh virtue, and does shake the head 
 To hear of pleasure's name ; 
 The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't 
 With a more riotous appetite. 
 Down t>om the waist they are centaurs, 
 Though women all above ; 
 But to the girdle do the gods inherit. 
 Beneath is all the fiend's; there's hell, there's dark- 
 ness. 
 There is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, 
 stench, consumption;— Kie, fie, He! pah; pah! 
 Give mc an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to 
 sweeten my imagination : there's money for thee. 
 G!o. 0. le't me kiss that hand! 
 Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. 
 Glo. ruin'd piece of nature! This great world 
 Shall so wear out to naught.— Dost thou know me'! 
 Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost 
 thou sqniny'at ine? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid; 
 I'll rot love.— Read thou this challenge; mark but 
 the penning of it. 
 
 Gio. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. 
 Edg. I would not take this from report;— it is. 
 And my heart breaks at it. 
 Lear. Read. 
 
 Glo. What, with the case of eyes'! 
 Lear. O, ho, are you therewith me! No eyes 
 in your head, nor no money in your purse ! Your 
 eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light : 
 Yet you see liow this world goes. 
 Cln. I see it feelingly. 
 
 Lear. What.artmad! A man maysee howthis 
 world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears; 
 see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief. 
 Hark, in thine ear: change places; and, handy- 
 dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief! — 
 Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar ! 
 Gin. Ay, sir, 
 
 Lear. And the creature run from the cur'! There 
 thou might'st behold the great image of authority : 
 a dog's obey'd in office. 
 Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : 
 Why dost thou lash that whore 1 Strip thine own 
 
 back ; 
 Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind 
 For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs 
 the cozener, 
 
 » An arrow of a cloth-yartl lonjr. ' Battle-axes. 
 
 * The white mark for archers to aim at. 
 
 ' The watch-word. « Likeness, manner. ' Look asquint. 
 
 Through taller'd clothes small vices do appear ; 
 Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with 
 
 gold. 
 And the strong lance of justice hurtless break-s. 
 Arm it in r.igs, a pigmy's straw doth pjerce it. 
 None does ofiend, none, 1 say, none ; I'll able 'em : 
 Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
 To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ; 
 And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
 To see the things thou dost not, — Now, now, now, 
 
 now : 
 Pull ofFinv boots:— harder, harder; so, 
 
 Edg. 0, matter and impertincucy mix'd! 
 Reason in madness! 
 Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my 
 
 eyes, 
 I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster, 
 Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. 
 Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air. 
 We vvawl.and cry.— I will preach to thee; mark 
 
 me. 
 Gh. Alack, alack the day ! 
 Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we arc 
 
 come 
 
 To this great stage of fools ; This a good block i^ 
 
 It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
 A troop of horse with ie\X: I'll put it in proof; 
 And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-lavi-, 
 Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman, witk Attendants, 
 
 Cent. 0, here he is ; lay hand upon him,— Sir, 
 
 Your most dear daughter 
 
 Lear. No rescue! What, a prisoner'! I am even 
 The natural fool of Ifirtune.— Use nie well ; 
 You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon, 
 I am cut to the brains. 
 Gent. You shall have any tiling. 
 
 Z^ear. No seconds ! All myself ! 
 Why, this would make a man. a man of salt,9 
 To iise his eyes fur garden water-jiots, 
 Ay. and for laying autumn's dust. 
 Gent. Good sir. — 
 
 I^ar. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom : 
 What ! 
 I will be jovial : come, come ; I am a king. 
 My masters, know you that! 
 
 Gent. You are a roval one, and we obey you. 
 Lear. Then there's "lile in it. Nay, an you get it, 
 you shall get it bv running. Sa, sa, sa, sa, 
 
 [E'xit, running; Attendants JoWotji. 
 
 Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch; 
 
 Past speaking of in a king! — Thou hast one 
 
 daughter. 
 Who redeems nature from the general curse 
 Which twain have brought her to. 
 Edg. Hail, gentle sir. 
 
 Gent. Sir, speed you : 'What s your will ! 
 
 Edg. Do you hearaught, sir, of a battle toward? 
 Cent. Most sure, and vulgar; every one hears 
 that. 
 Which can distinguish sound. 
 
 Edg. But by your favor, 
 
 How near's the other army ? 
 
 Gent. Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry 
 Stands on the hourly thousht,' 
 Edg. I thank you, sir : that s all. 
 
 Ge7:t. Though that the queen on special cause is 
 here. 
 Her army is mov'd on, 
 Edg. 1 thank you, sir. [Exit Gent. 
 
 Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath ftom 
 me; 
 Let not my worscr spirit^ tempt me again 
 To die before you please ! 
 Eilg. Well pray you, father. 
 
 Glo. Now, good sir, what are you ? 
 Edg. A most poor man, made tame by fortune's 
 blows; 
 Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows. 
 Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, 
 I'll lead jou Ui some biding. 
 
 Gin. Hearty thanks: 
 
 The bounty and the benizon' of heaven 
 To boot, and boot!** 
 
 • }ljnck^r\cient\y signified the head part of a hat. 
 
 » i.e. A man of tears. 
 
 be descried every 
 
 • Keward, recompense. 
 
 » I.e. A man of tears. 
 
 * The main body is expected to be descried every hour 
 
 « Evil genius. a Blessing. * Keward, recompense. 
 
696 
 
 KING LEAE. 
 
 Act IV. Scene VII. 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 
 f^leiv. A proclainiM prize! Most happy! 
 
 Tiiat eyeless head of tliiiie was tirst framed tlcsh 
 To raise my fortunes. — Tliou old uiiliappy traitor, 
 Bricrty thyself remember : — The sword is out 
 That must destroy thee. 
 
 Olo. Now let thy friendly hand 
 
 Put strength enough to it. [Eduar opposes. 
 
 tflew. Wherefore, bold peasant, 
 
 Dar'st thou support a puhlish'd traitor? Hence; 
 Lest tliat the injection of his fortune take 
 Like liokl on thee. Let go liis arm. 
 
 E'li;. Ch'ill notletgo, zir, withoutvurther 'casion. 
 
 ><tcic. Let go, slave, or thou diest. 
 
 E'Ig. Good' gentleman, go your gait,^ and let 
 poor volk pass. And cli'ud ha' been swaggerVI out 
 of my lile, 'twould not ha' been so long as 'tis by a 
 vorlnight. Nay, come not near the old man ; keep 
 out. clie vor' ye, or ise try wjiether your costard** 
 01 my bat' be the harder ; 'Ch'ill be plain with you. 
 
 i^lew. Out, dunghill ! 
 
 K'Ig. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: Come; no mat- 
 ter vor your foins.^* 
 
 [The II fight ; and Epgar knocks fiim rioicn. 
 
 Steir. Slave, thou hast slain me:— Villain, take 
 my pnrse; 
 If cvei thou wilt thrive, bnry my body; 
 And give the letters, which "thou find'st about me, 
 To Edmund earl of Gloster: seek him out 
 
 Upon the Britisli party : 0, untimely death ! 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Eilg. I know thee well : a serviceable villani ; 
 As duteous to the vices of your mistress, 
 As badness would desire. 
 
 Glo. What, is he dead ! 
 
 Erig. Sit you dovra, father; rest you. — 
 Let's see his pockets : these letters, that he speaks of, 
 May be my tiicnds. — He's dead : I am only sorry 
 lie had no other death's man. — Let us see: 
 Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: 
 To knowourcnemics'minds, we'd rip their hearts; 
 Tiieir pajiers, is more lawful. 
 
 [Reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be rememheretl. 
 Yuu have many opportunities to cut hint off: if 
 your tril! want not, time ami place will befruit- 
 fullij offered. There is nidhiiif; done, if he return 
 the cioiijacror: Then am I the /irisuiier.and his bed 
 my gaol ; fnnn the kiathed warmth whereof deliver 
 me, and supply the place for i/our labor. 
 
 Your wife, [so I would .^ai/,) anil your 
 affectionate servant, 
 
 GoNERIL. 
 O iindistinguish'd space of w'oman's will ! — 
 A i>lot upon her virtuous husband's life ; 
 And the exchange, my brother! — Here, in the 
 
 sands, 
 Thee I'll rake up,' the post unsanctified 
 Of murderous lechers; and, in the mature time, 
 Willi this ungracious paper strike the sight 
 Of llie death-practis'd duke: For him 'tis well, 
 Tiiat of thy death and business lean tell. 
 
 [Exit Elic:ar. dragf^iag out the Body. 
 
 Glo. The king is mad : How stilfis my vile sense, 
 That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling 
 Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract: 
 So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs; 
 AjhI woes, by wrong imagination, lose 
 The knowleuge of themselves. 
 
 Re-enter Edoar. 
 Edg. Give me your hand : 
 
 Far oli; methinks, I hear the beaten drum, 
 tome, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. 
 
 [Exeimt. 
 
 SCENE y\l.—A Tent in the French Camp. 
 Lear on a Bed, asleep; Physician, Gentleman, a7i(f 
 
 others attending. Enter CinaiEUA and Kent. 
 
 Cor. thou good Kent, how shall I live, and 
 work. 
 To match thy goodness 7 My life will be too short, 
 And every measure fail me. 
 
 Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid. 
 All my reports go with the modest truth ; 
 Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. 
 
 Cor. Be better suited :' 
 
 t fio your w.iy. « Ilenil. i rinb. b Thrusts. 
 
 » ril pnver tbfo (the dend sfewarilj in the s;md3. 
 
 * Ureset'U. 
 
 These weeds are memories of those worser hours ; 
 I pr'ythee, put them off. 
 
 Eent. Pardon me, dear madam ; 
 
 Yet to be k-nown, shortens my made intent : 
 My boon I make it, that you know me not, 
 Till time and I think meet. 
 Cor. Then he it so, my good lord.— How does 
 tlie king 1 [To the Phy.sician. 
 
 Phys. Madam, sleeps still. 
 Cor. O you kind gods. 
 Cure this great breach of his abused nature! 
 Th' untuned and jarring senses, 0, wind up. 
 Of this child-changed father ! 
 
 Phys. So please your majesty, 
 That we may wake the king ! he halli slept long. 
 Cor. Be goverii'd by your knowledge, and proceed 
 I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd ! 
 
 Gent. Ay, madam: in the heaviness of his sleep, 
 We put fresh garments on him. 
 Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake 
 him ; 
 I doubt not of his temperance. 
 Cor. Very well. 
 
 P/fi/s. Please you, draw near.— Louder the mu- 
 sic there! 
 Cor. my dear father ! Restoration, hang 
 Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss 
 Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters 
 Have in thy reverence made ! 
 
 Eent. Kind and dear princess! 
 
 Cor. Had you not been their father, these white 
 hakes 
 Had challenged pity of them. Was this a fece 
 To be expos'd against the warring winds? 
 To stand agiiinst the deep dn-:i<l-bolted thunder? 
 In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
 Of quick, cross lightning ! n. watch (poor perdu !-) 
 Willi this thin helm P Mine enemy's dog, 
 Though he had bit me, should have stood that night 
 Against my lire; And wast thou fain, poor liither, 
 To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, 
 In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack ! 
 'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once 
 Had not concluded all.— He wakes; speak to liim. 
 Phys. Madam, do you ; 'lis fittest. 
 Cur. How does my royal lord ? How fares your 
 
 majesty 1 
 Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the 
 grave: — 
 Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound 
 Ujion a wheel of fire, that tuine own tears 
 Do scald like molten lead. 
 Cor. Sir, do you know me ? 
 
 Lear. You are a spirit, I know: When did you 
 
 die? 
 Cor. Slill, still, far wide! 
 
 Phys. He's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile. 
 Lear. Where have I been?— Whe-e am 1?— Fair 
 day-light?— 
 I am mightily abused.— I should even die with pity, 
 To see another thus.- 1 know not what to say.— 
 I will not swear, these are my hands:— let's see; 
 I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assured 
 Of my condition. 
 
 Cor. O, look upon me, sir, 
 .\iid hold your hands in benediction o'er me. — 
 No. sir, you must not kneel. 
 
 f^ear. Pray, do not mock me: 
 
 I am a very foolish fond old man, 
 Fourscore, and upwards; and, to deal plainly, 
 I t(Mr, I am not in my perfect mind. 
 Methinks, I should know you, and know this man; 
 Yet I am doubtful : tor I am mainly ignorant 
 What place this is; and all the skill I have 
 Remembers not these garmenis ; nor I know not 
 Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at mc. 
 For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
 To be my child Cordelia, 
 fw. And so I am, I am. 
 
 Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, 
 weep not : 
 If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 
 I know, you do not love me; for your sisters 
 Have, as 1 do remember, done me wrong: 
 You have some cause, they have not. 
 ^'f^r. No cause, no cause. 
 
 Lear. Am I in France ? 
 
 » The .illusion is to the forlorn hn|>e in on army, nilled 
 in Fri'Dch, eii/ims ptrdus. i Ttiin covering of hair 
 
Act V. Scene HI. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 697 
 
 Kent. In your own kingdom, sii. 
 
 Lear. Do not abuse me. 
 
 Fhus. Be comforted, good madam : the great 
 rage, 
 You see. is cured in liim ; and yet it is danger 
 To make him even^ oVr the time lie has lost. 
 Desire him to go in; trouble him no more, 
 Till further settling. 
 
 Cnr. WiU't please your highness walk 7 
 
 Lear. You must bear with me: 
 
 Piay now, forget and forgive : I am old and foolish. 
 [Ej:eunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Gent. Holds it true, sir, 
 That the djtke of Cornwall was so slain 1 
 
 Kent. Most certain, sir. 
 
 Uent. Who is conductor of his people ^ 
 
 Kent. As 'tis said 
 
 The bastard son of Gloster. 
 
 Gent. They say, Edgar, 
 
 His liaiiish'd son, is with the earl of Kent 
 In Germany. 
 
 Kent. Report is changeable. 
 
 'Tis time to look about ; the powers o' the kingdom 
 Approach apace. 
 
 Ge7if. The arbitrement' is like to be a bloody. 
 Fare you well, sir. [Kxit. 
 
 Kent. My point and period will be thoroughly 
 wrought, 
 Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought. [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.~The Camp of the British Forces, near 
 
 Dover. 
 
 Etiter, tvi/h Drums and Colors, Er):^irND, Regan, 
 
 OfficerSj Soldiers, a7id others. 
 
 Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold, 
 Or, wlicther since he is advis'd by au;;ht 
 To change the course: He's full oi alteration, 
 And seli-approving: — Brinj; his constant plea- 
 sure .^ 
 
 [ To an Officer, lohx) goes out. 
 
 Reg. Our sister**s man is certainly miscarried. 
 
 Edm. ""Tis to he doubted, madam. 
 
 Reg. Now, 'sweet lord, 
 
 You know the goodness I intend upon you: 
 Tell me, — but truly, — but then speak the truth, 
 Do you not love my sister 1 
 
 Edm. In honorM love. 
 
 Reg. But Iiave you never found my brother'sway 
 To the foreiended'' place? 
 
 Edm. That thoufjht abuses" you. 
 
 Reg. I am doubtful that you liave been conjunct 
 And bosoni'd with her, as liir as we call hers. 
 
 Edm. No, by mine iionor, madam. 
 
 Reg. I never shall endure her ; Dear my lord, 
 Be not familiar with her. 
 
 Edm. Fear me not: — 
 She, and the duke her husband, 
 
 Enter Albany, Goxeuil, ajid. Soldiers, 
 
 GoJi. I had rather lose the battle, than that sister 
 Should loosen him and me. [Aside. 
 
 Alb. Our very loving sister, well be met. — 
 Sir, this I hear. — The king is come to his daughter, 
 With others, whom the rigor of our state 
 Forced to cry out. Where I could not be honest, 
 I never yet was valiant: for tliis business, 
 It touches us as France invades our land. 
 Not holds^ tlie king; with others, whom, I fear. 
 Most just and heavy causes make oppose.^ 
 
 Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. 
 
 Reg. Why is this reason'd 1 
 
 Gun. Combine together 'gainst the enemy : 
 For these domestic and particular broils 
 Are not to question here. 
 
 Alb. Let us then determine 
 
 VVilh the ancient of war on our proceedings, 
 
 Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent. 
 
 Reg. Sister, you'll go witn us? 
 
 Gnn. No. 
 
 Reg. "'TIS most convenient ; pray you, go witli us. 
 
 Gun. 0,ho,I know the riddle: [A.'iid^.] I will go. 
 
 As Ihcy are going out, enter Edgar, disguised. 
 Eilg. If e'er your grace had speech with man 
 so poor. 
 Hear me one word. 
 Alb. V\l overtake you. — Speak. 
 
 [Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Officers, 
 Soldiers, a7id Attendants. 
 Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. 
 If you have victory, let the trumpet sound 
 For him that brought it : wretched though I seem, 
 
 * To reconrile it to hii^ apprehension. 
 
 s His settled resolution, • Forbidden. 
 
 ' Imposes ou you. • i. e. Emboldens him, 
 
 • Opposition 
 
 I can produce a champion, that will prove 
 What is avouched there: If you miscarry, 
 Your business of the world hath so an eiid. 
 And machination ceases. Fortune love you! 
 
 Alb. Stay till 1 have read the letter. 
 
 Edg. I was forbid it. 
 
 When time shall serve, let but the lierald cry. 
 And ril appear again. \^Exif. 
 
 Alb. Why, tare thee well; I will o'erlooK tiiy 
 paper. 
 
 Re-enter Edsil'nd, 
 
 Edm.The enemy's in view, draw up your powers. 
 Here is the guess of their true strength and forces 
 By diligent discovery ; — but 3'our haste 
 Is now urged on you. 
 
 Alb. We will greet the time.2 [Exit. 
 
 Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my love; 
 Each jealous of the other, as the stung 
 Are of the adder. Which of them sliall I takel 
 Both? one? or neither? neither can be enjoy'd. 
 It both remain alive : To take the widow, 
 Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ; 
 And hardly shall I carry out my side,3 
 Her husband being alive. Now then weMl use 
 His countenance lor the battle; which being done, 
 Let her, who would be rid of him, devise 
 His speedy taking oil". As lor the mercy 
 Which he nitends to Lear, and to Cordelia, — 
 The battle done, and tliey within our power. 
 Shall never see nis pardon : lor my slate 
 Stands on me to dclend, not to debate. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— vl Field between the two Camps. 
 Alarum within. Enter, ivilh Drums and CulorSt 
 
 Leak, Cuudelia, a)id thfir Forces; and exeunt. 
 Enter Edgar and Gloster. 
 
 Edg. Here, father, lake the shadow of this free. 
 For your good iiost; pray that the right may thrive. 
 If ever I return to you again, 
 I'll bring you comlbrt. 
 
 Glo. Grace go with you, sir. 
 
 [Exit Edgar. 
 Alarums; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter 'E.dgau. 
 
 Edg. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away; 
 King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter la'en: 
 Give me thy hand, come on. 
 
 Gl^. No lurther, sir; a man may rot even here. 
 
 Edg. What, in ill thoughts again? Men must 
 endure 
 Their going hence, even as their coming hither; 
 Ripeness is all : Come on. 
 
 Glo. And that's true, too. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III.— TAe British Camp near Dover. 
 
 Enter, in Conquest, tvith DrumaJid Co/ors, Edmund ; 
 Lear and Cordelia, as Rrisoiiers; Officers, Sol- 
 diers, ^-c. 
 Emd. Someofficers take them away: good guard; 
 
 Until their greater pleasures first be known 
 
 That are to censure^ them. 
 
 * Decision. * Be ready to meet the occasion. 
 
 > i.e. Make my part good, * Pass judgment on them. 
 
€98 
 
 KING LEAK. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Cor. We are not the first, 
 
 Wlio, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst. 
 For thee, oppressed kin}^;, am I cast down; 
 Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.— 
 Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters? 
 
 Lear. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to 
 prison : 
 We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage : 
 When thou dost ask my blessing, I'll kneel down, 
 And ask of thee forf^iveness: So we'll live. 
 And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
 At gildrd butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
 Talii of court news; and we'll talk with them too — 
 Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's out; — 
 And take upon us the mystery of things, 
 As if wp were God's spies: And we'll wear out, 
 In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, 
 Thiit ebb and flow by the moon. 
 
 Edni, Take them away. 
 
 Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
 The gods themselves throw incense. Have I 
 
 caught thee 1 
 He that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven, 
 And fire us hence, like foxes. Wipe thine eyes; 
 The goujeers^ shall devour them, flesh and fell.s 
 Ere they shall make us weep : we'll sec them 
 
 starve first. 
 Come. [Exeunt Leah and Cordelia, guarded. 
 
 E'hit. Come hither, captain; hark. 
 Take thou this note; [Giving a Paper.] go, follow 
 
 them to prison: 
 One step I have advanced thee ; if thou dost 
 As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way 
 To noble Ibrtunes: Know thou this, — that men 
 Are as the time is: to be tender-minded 
 Does not become a sword :— Thy great employment 
 Will not bear question ; either say, thou'lt do't, 
 Or thrive by other means. 
 
 Oif. I'll do't, my lord. 
 
 Ed/n. About it; and write happy, when thou 
 hast done. 
 Mark. — I say, instantly ; and carry it so, 
 As I have set it down. 
 
 Otf- I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats ; 
 If it be man's work, I will do it. [Exit Officer. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Offi- 
 cers, and Attendants, 
 
 Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant 
 strain. 
 And fortune led you well: You have the captives, 
 Who were the opposites of this day's strife: 
 We do require them of you ; so to use them. 
 As we shall find their merits and our safety 
 May equally determine. 
 
 Edni. Sir, I thought it fit 
 
 To send the old and miserable king 
 To some retention, and appointed guard ; 
 Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, 
 To pluck the common bosom on his side, 
 And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes 
 Wiiich do command them. With him I sent the 
 
 'queen; 
 My reason all the some ; and they are ready 
 To-morrow, or at further space, to appear 
 Where you shall hold your session. At this time. 
 We sweat, and bleed: the friend hath lost his 
 
 friend, 
 And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd 
 By those that feel their sharpness: — 
 The question of Cordelia, and her father, 
 Requires a fitter place. 
 
 Alb. Sir, by your patience, 
 
 I hold you but a subject of this war. 
 Not as a brother. 
 
 Rfg. That's as we list to grace him, 
 
 Mclliinks.our pleasure might have been demanded, 
 Kre you had spoke so far. He led our powers; 
 Bore the commission of my place and person; 
 The wliicii mimediacy' may well stand up. 
 And rail itself your brother. 
 
 (inn. Not so hot: 
 
 In ins OUT! grace he doth exalt himself. 
 Mure than in your advancement. 
 
 lieg. In my rights, 
 
 By me invested, he compeers the best. 
 
 Gon. That were the most, if he should husband 
 you. 
 
 B The French disoaso. 6 Skin. 
 
 ' Authority to act on his own judgment. 
 
 Jteg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. 
 
 Gon. Holloa, holloa! 
 
 That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint.^ 
 
 Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer 
 From a full-flowing stomach. — General. 
 Take Ihou thy soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; 
 Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine : 
 Witness the world, that I create thee here 
 My lord and master. 
 
 Gini. Mean you to enjoy him ? 
 
 Alf). The let-alone lies not in your good will. 
 
 Edm, Nor in thine, lord. 
 
 Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. 
 
 Reg, Let the drum strike, and prove my title 
 thine. [To Ejmund. 
 
 Alb. Stay yet; hear reason: — Edmund, I arrest 
 thee 
 On capital treason; and, in thy arrest, 
 This gilded serpent: [Pom/i/i^ /o GoN.]— for your 
 
 claim, fair sister, 
 I bar it in the interest of my wife ; 
 'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord. 
 And I, her husband, contradict your banns. 
 If you will marry, make your love to me, 
 My lady is bespoke. 
 
 Gon. An interlude! 
 
 Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloster:— Let the trumpet 
 sound : 
 If none appear to prove upon thy person. 
 Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, 
 There is my pledge: [Throwing down a Glove.] 
 
 I'll prove it on tliy heart. 
 Ere I laste bread, thou art in nothing loss 
 Than I have here proclaim'd thee. 
 
 Reg. ^ Sick, O, sick! 
 
 Gon. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison. [Aside. 
 
 Edm. There's my exchange: [Throwing down 
 a Glove.] what in the world he is 
 That names me traitor, villain-like he lies : 
 Call by thy trumpet: be that dares approach, 
 On him, on you, (who not]) I will maintain 
 My truth and honor firmly. 
 
 Alb. A herald, ho! 
 
 Edm. A herald, ho, a herald ! 
 
 Alb. Trust to thy single virtuejS for thy soldiers, 
 All levied in my name, have in my name 
 Took their discharge. 
 
 Reg. This sickness grows upon me. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 Alb. She is not well; convey her to my tent. 
 
 [Exit Regan, led* 
 Come hither, herald, — Let the trumpet sound,— 
 And read out this. 
 
 OJf. Sound trumpet. [A Trumpet sounds. 
 
 Herald reads. 
 
 If any man of qualify, or degree, tvithin the 
 lls}s of the army, will maintain -upon Edmund, 
 supposed Earl if Gloster, ih/it he w a manifold 
 traitor, let him appear at the third sound of the 
 tnnnpet : He is bold in his defence. 
 
 Edm. Sound. 
 
 Her. Again. 
 
 Jler. Again. 
 
 [l Truriipef, 
 
 [2 Trvmprt, 
 
 [3 Trumpet. 
 [Trumpet anstvers icithin. 
 
 Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a Trumpet. 
 
 Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears 
 Upon this call o* the trumpet. 
 
 Her. What are you ? 
 
 Vour name, your quality? and why you answer 
 This present summons? 
 
 Edg. Know, my name is lost 
 
 By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit: 
 Yet am 1 noble, as the adversary 
 I come to cope withal. 
 
 Alb. Which is that adversary? 
 
 Edg. Whafs he, that speaks tor Edmund earl of 
 Gloster! 
 
 Edm. Himself; — What say'st thou to him? 
 
 Kdg. Draw thy sword! 
 
 Tliat, if my speech oflcnd a noble heart, 
 Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine, 
 lloliold, it is the privilege of mine honors, 
 My oath, and my profession : I protest, — 
 Maugre' thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, 
 
 8 AlluJinp to the proverb: "Ix)to being jealous makes 
 good eye look as'iuint.^* 
 
 » i.e. Valor. * Notwithstanding. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 699 
 
 Despite thy viclor sword, and fire-new fortune, 
 Thy valor, and thy heart, — thou art a traitor : 
 False to thy gods, tliy brother, and thy father; 
 Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince; 
 And, from the exlreinest upward of thy head, 
 To the descent and dust beneath thy feet, 
 A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No, 
 This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are 
 
 bent 
 To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speaif, 
 Tiiou Iicst. 
 
 E'h/i. In wisdom, I should ask thy name ; 
 
 But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike. 
 And that thy tongue some 'say^ of breeding 
 
 breathes. 
 What safe and nicely I mishtwell delay 
 By rule of knighthood, I di>-dain and spurn : 
 Back do I toss these treasons lo thy head ; 
 With the hell-hated lie o'erwliclm thy heart; 
 Which.(turthey yet glance by,and scarcely bruise,) 
 This sword of mine shall give them instant way. 
 Where they shall rest forever. — Trumpets, speak. 
 [Alarums. Theij fight. EDMUNDy«//s. 
 
 Alb. save him, save him ! 
 
 Gon. Tliis is mere practice,^ Gloster: 
 
 By the lawof arms, thou wast not bound to answer 
 An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd, 
 But cozen 'd ajid beguilM. 
 
 Alf->. Shut your mouth, dame, 
 
 Or with this paper shall I stop it: — Hold, sir: 
 Thou v/orse than any name, read thine own evil; — 
 No tearing, lady : I perceive you know it. 
 
 [(lives ifip. Letter to Edmund. 
 
 Gon. Saj', if I do; the laws are mine, not thine: 
 Who shall arraign me Ibr't] 
 
 All), Most monstrous! 
 
 Know''st thou this paper] 
 
 Gun. Ask me not what I know. 
 
 [Exit GONERIL. 
 
 Alb. Go after her: she's desperate; govern her. 
 [To an Olhcer, tvko ^oes out. 
 
 Edni. What you have charged me with, that 
 have I done; 
 And more, much more: the time will bring it out; 
 'Tis past, and so am 1 : But what art thou, 
 That liast this fortune on me"? If thou art noble, 
 I do forgive thee. 
 
 Edg. Let's exchange charity. 
 
 I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; 
 If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me. 
 My name is Edgar, and thy latJier's son. 
 The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
 Make instruments to scourge us: 
 TJie dark and vicious place where thee he got, 
 Cost him his eyes. 
 
 Edm. Thou hast spoken right, *tis true ; 
 
 The wheel lias come full circle; I am here. 
 
 Alb. Methought, thy very gait did prophesy 
 A royal nobleness: — I must embrace thee; 
 Let sorrow split my heart, if ever 1 
 Did hate thee, or thy lather! 
 
 Edg. Worthy prince, 
 
 I know it well. 
 
 Alb. Where have you hid yourself? 
 
 How have you known the miseries of your father? 
 
 Edg. By nursing them, my lord. — List^ a brief 
 tale;— 
 And, when 'tistold,0,that my heart would burst! — 
 The bloody proclamation to escape, 
 That Ibilow'd me so near.(0,our lives* sweetness! 
 Thnt with the pain of death we'd hourly die, 
 Kather than die at once!) taught me to shill 
 Into a mad-man's rags ; to assume a semblance 
 That very dogs disdain'd ; and in this habit 
 Met I my father with liis bleeding rings, 
 Tlieir precious stones new lost ; became his guide. 
 Led hmi, begi^M for him, sav'd him from despair; 
 Never (0 lault!) revealM myself unto him, 
 Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd, 
 Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
 I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last 
 Told him my pilgrimage: but his tlaw'd heart, 
 (Alack, too weak the conflict to support !) 
 Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, 
 Burst smilingly, 
 
 Edr/i. This speech of yours hath mov'd me, 
 
 And shall, perchance, do good: but speak you on; 
 you look as you had something more to say. 
 
 Sample. 
 
 ' Stratagem. 
 
 « Hear. 
 
 Alb. If there be more, move woeful, hold, it in, 
 For I am almost ready to dissolve, 
 Hearing of this. 
 
 Edg. This would have secm'd a period 
 
 To such as love not sorrow; but another, 
 To amplify too much, would make much more, 
 And top extremity. 
 
 Whilst I was big m clamor, came there a man. 
 Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
 Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then, finding 
 Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms 
 He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out 
 As he'd burst heaven ; threw him on my father; 
 Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him, 
 That ever ear receiv'd : which in recounting. 
 His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
 Began to crack : Twice then the trumpet sounded, 
 And there I lert him tranced. 
 
 Alb. But who was this? 
 
 Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent ; who in dis- 
 guise 
 Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service 
 Improper for a slave. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody Knife* 
 
 Gent. Help! help! Ohelp! 
 
 Edg. What kind of help? 
 
 Alb. Speak, man. 
 
 Edg. What means that bloody kTiife? 
 
 Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes ; 
 
 It came even from the heart of— 
 
 Alb. Who, man? speak. 
 
 Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady : and her sister 
 By her is poison'd ; she confesses it. 
 
 Edm. I was contracted to them both; all three 
 Now marry in an instant. 
 
 Alb, Produce their bodies, be they alive or 
 deati ! — ■ 
 This judgment of the heavens, that makes us 
 
 tremble. 
 Touches us not with pity. [Exit Gentleman. 
 
 Enter Kent. 
 
 Edg. Here comes Kent, sir. 
 
 AlO. 0! it is he. 
 The time will not allow the compliment, 
 Which very maimers urges. 
 
 Kent. I am come 
 
 To bid my king and master aye^ good-night; 
 Is he not here! 
 
 Alb. Great thing of us forgot! — 
 
 Speak, Edmund, where 's the kingi and where's 
 
 Cordelia !— 
 Seest thou this object, Kentl 
 
 [The Bodies c^'Goneril and Regan are 
 brought in. 
 
 Kent. Alack, why thus? 
 
 Ednt, Yet Edmund was belov'd: 
 
 The one the other poison'd for my sake, 
 And alter slew herselt". 
 
 Alb. Even so. — Cover their faces. 
 
 Ediu. 1 pant for life: — Some good I mean to do, 
 Despite ol mine own nature. Quickly scikI, — 
 Be brief in it, — to the castle; for my writ 
 Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia: — 
 Nay, send in time. 
 
 Alb, Run, run, 0, run — • 
 
 Edg. To whom, my lord ! — Who has the oflice'? 
 send 
 Thy token of reprieve. 
 
 Edm. Well thought on; take my sword, 
 Give it the captain. 
 
 Alb. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit Edgar. 
 
 Edm. He hath commission from thy wiicand me 
 To hang Cordelia in the prison, and 
 To lay the blame upon her own despair, 
 That she fordid"* herselt. 
 
 Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him hence 
 awhile, [Edmund is borne o^. 
 
 Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his Arms; 
 
 Edgar, Ollicer, and others. 
 Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl! — 0, ye arc men 
 of stones : 
 Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so 
 That heaven's vault should crack : — 0, she is gone 
 
 for ever ! — 
 I know when one is dead, and when one lives; 
 She's dead as earth :— Lend me a looking-glass ; 
 
 * For ever. 
 
 6 Destroyed hersel£ 
 
00 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act V. Scene IH 
 
 If ihat her breath will mist or stain the stone, 
 Why, then she lives. 
 
 Kent. Is this the promis'd end? 
 
 Edg. Or image of that horror? 
 
 ■Alb. Fall, and cease. 
 
 Lear. This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, 
 it is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
 That ever I Jiave felt. 
 
 Kent. O my good master ! [A'neeHng-. 
 
 Leur. Pr ythee, away. 
 
 £ilg. "ris noble Kent, your friend. 
 
 Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors, all! 
 I might have saved her; now she's gone forever! — 
 Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! 
 What is't thou say'st?— Her voice was ever soft, 
 Gentle, and low ; an excellent thing in woman : — 
 I kiil'd the slave that was a-hanging thee. 
 
 Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did. 
 
 Lear. Did I not, fellow 7 
 
 I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion 
 I would have made them sliip: I am old now, 
 And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you? 
 Mine eyes are none o' the best: — I'll tcU you 
 straight. 
 
 Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated. 
 One of them we behold. 
 
 Lrar. This is a dull sight: Are you not Kent? 
 
 Kent. Tlie same ; 
 
 Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius? 
 
 Lear. He's a good lellow, I can tell you that; 
 He'll strike, and quickly too: — He's dead and 
 rotten. 
 
 Kent. No, my good lord : I am the very man ;— 
 
 Lear. I'll see that straight. 
 
 Kent. That, from your first of difference and 
 decay. 
 Have foUow'd your sad steps. 
 
 Lear. You are welcome hither. 
 
 Kent. Nor no man else ; 
 All's cheerless, dark, and deadly.^ 
 Your eldest daughters have foredoom'd themselves. 
 And desperately are dead. 
 
 Lear. Ay, so I think. 
 
 Alb. He knows not what he says ; and vain it is 
 That we present us to hiin. 
 
 E'lg. Very bootless.'' 
 
 ' Useless. 
 
 Enter an Officer. 
 
 Off. Edmund is dead, my lord. 
 
 AUi. That's but a trifle here.— 
 
 You lords and noble friends, know our intent: 
 What comfort to this great decay may come, 
 Shall be applied : For us, we will resign. 
 During the life of this old majesty, 
 To him our absolute power: — You to yonr rishts; 
 [To Edgaii OnrfKENT. 
 With boot, and such addition as your honors 
 Have more than merited.— All friends shall taste 
 The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
 The cup of their deservings. — O, see, sec ! 
 
 Lear. And my poor tool is hang'd! No, no, no 
 life: 
 Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life. 
 And thou no breath at all? 0, thou wilt come no 
 
 more. 
 Never, never, never, never, never ! — 
 Pray you, undo this button: Thank you, sir.— 
 Do you see this ? Look on her,— look,— her lips,— 
 Look there, look there ! — [He dies. 
 
 Edg. He faints !— My lord, my lord.— 
 
 Kent. Break, heart; 1 pr'ythee, break ! 
 
 E'Ig. Look up, my lord. 
 
 Kent. Vex not his ghost: 0, let him pass! he 
 hates him. 
 That would upon the rack of this tough world 
 Stretch him out longer. 
 
 Edg. o, he is gone, indeed. 
 
 Kent. The wonder is, he hath endured so 
 long: 
 He but usurp d his life. 
 
 Alb. Bear them from hence.- Our present 
 business 
 Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain 
 „ , . [To Kent anrf Edgar. 
 
 Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. 
 
 Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go ; 
 My master calls, and I must not say, no. 
 
 Alb. The weight of this sad time we must 
 obey; 
 Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. 
 The oldest hath borne most : we, that are young, 
 Shall never see so much, nor live so long. 
 
 [Exeunt, with, a dead march. 
 
ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 EsCALCS. rrir.ci rf Verona. 
 
 pAi;i3. a 'lOHttu hoblernan, Kin^mnn to the Prince. 
 
 ]\Iij-V1Ai_;i'e, j Hewh af two Houses ut variance 
 
 Capllet, J wi^li eocti oltier. 
 
 An old Man, Uncle to C'apulct. 
 
 Romeo, Son to MoiitaKue. 
 
 Meucvt!o, Kinsman to trie Prince, and Friend to 
 
 Romeo. 
 Bexyomo, Nepliew to Montague, and Friend to 
 
 Komeo. 
 TVDALT. Neptiew to Lady Capulct. 
 Fkiar Laurence, a Franciscan. 
 Friar Johx, of t lie same Order. 
 Balthazar, Servant to Romeo. 
 
 GREGORY, I ^^'"""^'''Capulet. 
 
 Abram, Servant to Montague. 
 
 An Apottieeury. 
 
 Three Musicians. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Buji, Page to Paris. 
 
 Petek, an Officer. 
 
 Lady Montague, Wife to Montague. 
 Lady Capilet. iVife to Capulet. 
 Jl'liet, Daughter to Capulet. 
 Nurse to Juliet. 
 
 Citizens of Verona ; several Men and fVomen, rela- 
 tions to both Houses ; McLikers, Guards, lyatcti' 
 men, and Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, during the greater Part cfthe Play, in Verona ; once, in the fifth Act, at JMantua. 
 
 PEOLOGUE. 
 
 Two households, both alike in dignity, 
 
 In liair Verona, where we lay our scene, 
 From ancient ":rad°;e break to new mutiny^ 
 
 Whore civil blood makes civil hands unclean. 
 From forth the fatal loins of these two foes 
 
 A pair of star-cros.^ed lovers take their life; 
 Wlio-se misadventur'd piteous overthrows 
 
 Do, with their dcatli, bury their parents' strife. 
 
 The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, 
 And the continuance of their parents' rag;e, 
 
 Which, but their children's end, naught could re- 
 move, 
 Is now the two-hours' traflic of our stage; 
 
 Tlie whicfi, if you with patient ears attend. 
 
 Wiiat here sha"U miss, our tuil shall strive to mend. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— 4 Public Place. 
 
 Enter Sampson and Greoory, armed with Swords 
 and Bucklers. 
 
 Sam. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.' 
 
 Ore. No, for then we should be colliers. 
 
 Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. 
 
 Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of 
 the collar. 
 
 Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. 
 
 Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. 
 
 Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. 
 
 Gre. To move, is — to stir; and to be valiant, is — 
 to siand to it: therefore, if thou art moved thou 
 runu'st away. 
 
 Sum. A dog of that house shall move me to 
 stand : I will take the wall of any man or maid of 
 Montague's. 
 
 Gre. That shows (bee a weak slave; for the 
 weakest goes to tJic wall. 
 
 Sam. True; and therefore women, being the 
 weaker vessels, are over thrust to the wall:— there- 
 fore I will push Montague's men from the wall, 
 and thrust his maids to the wall. 
 
 Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and 
 us their men. 
 
 Sam. 'Tis all one^ I will show myself a tyrant: 
 wdien I have fought with the men. I will be' cruel 
 witii the maids; I will cut oil" tlioir lieads. 
 » A phrase formerly in use, to siguif. the be;irmg injuriLS. 
 
 Gre. The heads of the maids? 
 
 Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maiden- 
 heads ; take it in what sense thou wilt. 
 
 Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. 
 
 Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to 
 stand: and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of desh. 
 
 Gre. *Tis well, thou art not llsh; if thou hadst, 
 thou hadst been ]ioor John.- Draw thy tool; here 
 comes two of the house of the Montagues. 
 
 Enter Abram and Balthazar. 
 
 Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I v.'ill 
 back thee. 
 
 Gre. How? turn thy back, and run? 
 
 Sam. Fear me not. 
 
 Gre. No, marry : I fear thee ! 
 
 Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them 
 begin. 
 
 Gre. I will frovra as I pass by; and let them 
 take it as they list. 
 
 Satn. Nay. as they dare. I will bite my thumb at 
 them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear iU 
 
 Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 
 
 Sam. 1 do bite my thumb, sir. 
 
 Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 
 
 Sara. Is the law on our side, if I say — ay? 
 
 Grf. No. 
 
 Sam. No, sir; I do not bite my thumb at you, 
 sir: but 1 bite my thumb, sir. 
 
 « Poor John is L-ike, diied and salted. 
 
 701 
 
702 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Gre. Do you quarrel, sir] 
 
 Ahr. Quarrel, sir I no, sir. 
 
 Sam. \i you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as 
 good a man as you. 
 
 Abr. ISo belter. 
 
 Sam. Well, sir. 
 
 Enter Benyolio, at a distance. 
 
 Gre. Say — better; here comes one of my mas- 
 ter's kinsmen. 
 
 Sam. Yes. belter, sir. 
 
 Abr. You lie. 
 
 Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregory, remem- 
 ber thy swashing blow. [Tkeyjight. 
 
 £e». Part, ibols; put up your swords; youlmow 
 not what you do. [Beats down their Swt/rds. 
 
 Enter Tybalt. 
 T^b. What, art ihou drawn among these heart- 
 less hinds ! 
 Turn thee, Bcnvolio, look upon thy death. 
 
 Bcii. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword. 
 Or manage it to part ttiese men with me. 
 T(//j. What, drawn, and talk of peace] I hate 
 the word, 
 As I liato hell, ail Montagues, and thee; 
 Have at tiiee, coward. [Tkeyjlght. 
 
 Enter several Partizans of both Houses, tvh/)join 
 the Fraij; then enter Citizens with Clubs. 
 Cit. Clubs,3 bills, and partizans ! strike ! beat 
 them down ! 
 Do\^m with tiieCapulels! down with the Montagues! 
 
 Enter Capclet in tds Gown, and Lady Capi'let. 
 Cap. What noise is this? — Give me my long 
 
 sword, ho ! 
 La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch! — Why call you for 
 
 a sword ^ 
 Cap. My sword, I say ! — Old Montague is come. 
 And nourishes his blade in spite of me. 
 
 Enter Montacce and Lady Mon'TAGUE. 
 Mon. Thou villain, Capulet, — Hold me not, let 
 
 me go I 
 La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. 
 
 Enter Prince, icith Attendants. 
 
 Prin. RebeHions subjects, enemies to^eace, 
 Profaners of this neiL'hbor-stained steel, — 
 Will th.^y not hear ! — what, ho ! you men, you 
 
 boasts, — 
 That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 
 With purple fountains issuing from your veins, 
 On paui of torture, from those bloody hands 
 Throw your mistemper'd^ weapons to the ground. 
 And h.ear the sentence of your moved prince. — 
 Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word. 
 By thee, old Capulet and Montague, 
 Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets; 
 And made Verona's ancient citizens 
 Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments. 
 To wield old pariizans,^ in hands as old, 
 CankoiM with peace, to part your cankerM hate. 
 If ever you disturb our streets again. 
 Your lives shall pny the Ibrfeit of the peace. 
 For tills time, all liie rest depart away: 
 You. Capulet, shall go along with me ; 
 And, Montague, come you this afternoon, 
 To Know our furtlier pleasure in this case. 
 To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. 
 Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince and Attendants j Capulrt, 
 Lady Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and 
 Servants, 
 
 A/m7. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? — 
 Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began ] 
 
 Bfn. Here were the servants of your ad\"ersary, 
 And yours, close fighting ere I riicf approach : 
 I drew to part them ; in the instant came 
 TIk' fiery Tybalt, wi'h his sword prepared ; 
 Which, as he brealh'd defiance to my ears, 
 He swung about liis head, and cut the winds. 
 Who. nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn: 
 While we were interchanging thrust and blows. 
 Came more and more, and fought on part and part, 
 Till the prince came, who parted cither part. 
 
 a Clubs was the u-'Unl ex (.■!;» mat ion at an affray in the 
 streets, as we now call ^Valch I 
 
 « Augry. » A l\lni! of pike. 
 
 La. Mon. 0, where is Romeo 1 — saw you him to- 
 day ] 
 Right glad I am. he was not at this fray. 
 
 Beti. Madam, an hour before the worshippM sun 
 PeerM** forth tJie golden window of the cast, 
 A troubled muid drave me to walk abroad; 
 Where, — underneath the grove of sycamore. 
 That westward rooteth from the city's side,^ 
 So early walking did I see your son: 
 Towartls him I made; but he was 'ware of me, 
 And stole into the covert of the wood : 
 I. measuring his aftections by my own, — 
 That most are busied wlien they are most alone, — 
 Pursued my humor, not pursuing his, 
 And gladly shunn'd who gladly tied from me. 
 
 Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, 
 With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, 
 Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sigiis: 
 But all so soon as the all-cheering sun 
 Should in the furthest east begin to draw 
 The shady curtains from Aurora's bed. 
 Away Jrom li^ht steals home my heavy son. 
 And private in liis chamber jx^ns hnns^ell ; 
 Sluits up his windows, locks lair dayliLdji out, 
 And makes himself an artiricial niglit: 
 Black and portentous must this humor prove. 
 Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 
 
 Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause"? 
 
 Mon. I neither know it, nor can leani of him. 
 
 Ben. Have you importuned him by any means] 
 
 Mon. Both by myself and many other friends: 
 But he, his own allections' counsellor. 
 Is lo himself, — I will not say, how true — 
 But to himself so secret and so close, 
 So far from sounding and discovery, 
 As is the bud bit with an envious worm. 
 Ere he can spread his sweet ieaTes to the air, 
 Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 
 Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, 
 We would as willingly give cure, as know. 
 Enter Romeo, at a distance. 
 
 Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step 
 aside; 
 ril know his grievance, or be much denied. 
 
 Mo7i. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, 
 To hear true shrill.— Come, madam, let's away. 
 
 [Exeunt Montague and Lady. 
 
 Ben. Good-morrow, cousin. 
 
 ]{i>m. Is the day so young] 
 
 Ben. But new struck nine. 
 
 Rom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long. 
 
 Was that my father that went lience so tiist ! 
 
 Be?2. It was: — What sadness lengthens Romeo's 
 hours] 
 
 Rom. Not having that, which havmg, makes 
 them short. 
 
 Ben. In love] 
 
 Rinn. Out — 
 
 Ben. Of love? 
 
 Rom.Ont of her favor, where I am in love. 
 
 Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view. 
 Should be so tyrannous and rough in proot ! 
 
 Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is mulTled still, 
 Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will ! 
 Where shall we dine]— me!— What fray was 
 
 here ] 
 Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 
 Here'smucli todo with hate, but more with love: — 
 Why then, brawling love ! O loving hate ! 
 any thing, of nothing first create ! 
 O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! 
 Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 
 Feather oflead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health ! 
 Still waking sleep, that is not what it is! — 
 This love feel I, that feel no love in this. 
 Dost thou not laugh ] 
 
 Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. 
 
 R'>m. Good heart, at what] 
 
 Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. 
 
 Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. — 
 Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; 
 Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pvcst 
 With more of thine: this love, that thou hast 
 
 shown, 
 Dotii add more grief lo too much of mine own. 
 Love is a smoke raisM with the fume of sighs; 
 Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; 
 Being vcx'd, a sea nourished with lovers' tears* 
 * Appeared. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 703 
 
 Beju I oimVl so ncar,when I siinposM you lovM. 
 Rom. A rijcht good marksman '—And she's fair 
 
 What is it clfe] a madness most discreet, 
 A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 
 Farev/eil, my coz. [Going, 
 
 Ben. Soft, I will go along ; 
 
 An if yoi^ leave me so, you do me wrong. 
 
 Rnm, Tut. I have lost myself; I am not here ; 
 This is not Romeo, he's soine other where. 
 
 Bfn. Tell me in sadness wlio she is you love. 
 
 Korn. What, shall I groan, and tell thee] 
 
 Ben. Groan] why no; 
 
 But sadly tell me, who. 
 
 Rom. Hid a sick man in sadness make his will : — 
 Ah, word i!I-ur^^ed to one that is so ill !— 
 In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. 
 
 Be, - ' '^ ' ' 
 
 Rom. 
 
 1 love, 
 
 Ben, A ri^ht fair mark, fair coz. is soonest hit. 
 
 Rom.WeU. in that hit, you miss: she^ll not 
 he hit 
 With Cupid''s arrow, she hath Dian's wit ; 
 And, in strong proof of chastity well armM, 
 From love's vveak childish bow'she lives unharmM. 
 Siie will not stay the siege of loving terms, 
 Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 
 Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: 
 O. she is rich in beauty ; only poor. 
 That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 
 
 Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live 
 chaste ] 
 
 Roiu. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge 
 waste ; 
 For beauty, starvM with her severity, 
 Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 
 She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, 
 To merit bliss by making me despair: 
 She hath forsworn to love; and in that vow, 
 Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. 
 
 Ben. Be ruled by me. forget to think of her. 
 
 Rofii. O. teacli me how I should forget to think. 
 
 Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; 
 Examine'othcr beauties. 
 
 Rmn. 'Tis the way 
 
 To call hers, exquisite, in r^uestion more : 
 These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, 
 Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair; 
 He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget 
 The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: 
 Show mc a mistress that is passing fair. 
 What doth her beauty serve, but as a note 
 Where 1 may read, who passM that passing fair"? 
 Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget. 
 
 Ben. VH pay that doctrine, or else die in dobt. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Street. 
 Enter Capulet, Paius. and Ser\-ant. 
 
 Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, 
 In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think. 
 For men so old as we to kceji the peace. 
 
 Par. Of honorable reckoning" are you both ; 
 And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. 
 But now. my lord, what say you to my suit ? 
 
 Cup. But saying oVr what I have said before: 
 My cliild is yet a stranger in the world. 
 She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; 
 Let two more summers wither in their pride, 
 Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. 
 
 Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. 
 
 Cap. And loo soon marr'd are those so early 
 made. 
 The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, 
 She is the hopeful lady of my earth : 
 But woo her. gentle Paris, get her heart. 
 My will to her consent is but a part ; 
 An she agree, within her scope of choice 
 Lie.^ my consent and fair according; voice. 
 Tbis night I hold an old accustom'd feast, 
 W'horeio I have invited many a guest. 
 Such as I love ; and you, among the store, 
 One more, most welcome, makes my number 
 
 more. 
 At my poor house, look to behold this night 
 Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light: 
 Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel 
 When well-apparelPd April on the heel 
 Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
 Among fresh female birds shall you this night 
 
 » Account, estimation. 
 
 Inherit^ at my bouse; hear all, all see, 
 And like her most, Avhose merit most shall be : 
 Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one. 
 May stand in number, though in reckoning none. 
 Come, go with me: — Go, siiTah, trudge about 
 Through fair Verona; tlnd those persons out, 
 Whose" names are written there, [Gives a Paper.] 
 
 and to them say, 
 My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. 
 
 [EjceitJif Capllet and Paris. 
 Seri\ Find them out. wliose names are wTitten 
 herel It is written — that the shoemaker should 
 meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, 
 the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his 
 nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose 
 names are hrre writ, and can never find what 
 names the writing person hath here WTit. 1 must 
 to the learned : — In good time. 
 
 Enter Besvolio and Romeo. 
 
 Ben. Tut, man! one fire bums out another's 
 burning, 
 
 One pain is lessenM by another's anguish; 
 Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning. 
 
 One desperate grief cure with another's lan- 
 guish: 
 Take thou some new infection to thy e^e, 
 And the rank poison of the old will die. 
 
 Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. 
 
 Bc7i. For what, 1 yuay thee T 
 
 Rom. For your broken shin. 
 
 Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ? 
 
 Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman 
 is: 
 Shut up in prison, kept without my food. 
 WhippM and tormented, and — Good-e'en, good 
 fellow. 
 
 Serv. God t^i' good-e'cn. — I pray, sir, can you 
 read ] 
 
 Rnm. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 
 
 Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: 
 But I pray, can you read any thing you see .' 
 
 R<im. Ay, if I know the letters, and the lan- 
 guage. 
 
 Sert\ Ye say honestly: Rest you merrj'! 
 
 Rom. Stay, fellow; I can rc-.ui. [Reads. 
 
 Sjg-nic/r Martino, and his wife and datigkters ; 
 Count 1/ \nsv\me. and klf hraufeous slsitrs; The 
 twill widow of \"\Xxw\\o\ Signior Placentio. ////// Ats 
 Invitij nieces ; Mereutio,a/;'/ Ma- ^/ro/^er Valentine; 
 Mine uncle Capulet, hif iinfe and daughter.^ ; My 
 fair niece Ro^ahne ; Livia; Si^Jiinr Valentio. and 
 his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the tividy Helena. 
 A fair assembly; [Gives back the ^ote.] Whither 
 should they come ? 
 
 Serv. Up. 
 
 Rom. Whither? 
 
 Serv. To supper; to our house, 
 
 Rom. Whose house] 
 
 Serv. My master's, 
 
 Rom. Indeed, I should have asked 5-ou that be- 
 fore. 
 
 SC7-V. Now I'll tell you without asking: My 
 master is the great rich'Capulet; and if you be not 
 of the house of Montagues, I pray, come' and crush 
 a cup of wine.^ Rest you merry. [Exit. 
 
 Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet^s 
 Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; 
 With all the admired beauties of Verona. 
 Go tliithrr; and, with unattainted eye, 
 Comprire her face with some that I shall show, 
 And I win mike thee think thy swan a crow. 
 
 Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye 
 Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to 
 fires ! 
 And these, who, often drown'd, could never die,— 
 
 Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! 
 One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun 
 NcVr saw her match, since first the world begun. 
 
 Ben. Tut! you saw her lair, none else being by, 
 Herself pnis'd' with herself in either eye: 
 But in tliose crystal scales, let there be'weigii''d 
 Your lady's love against some other maid 
 That 1 will show you, shining at this feast. 
 And she shall scant-show well, that now shows best. 
 
 Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shov/n, 
 But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [Exeunt, 
 
 8 Toinbtnit. in thi- hinirnuge of Sbakpnc^aro. is toposscss, 
 
 9 We still say, in cant lansuage, cracJ: a hotik. 
 
 * ^Veigh^*d. a Scarcely, hardly. 
 
704 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 SCENE III.— yl Room in Capulet's House. 
 Enter Lady Capdlet and Nurse. 
 La. Cap. Nurse, Where's my daughter? call her 
 
 forth to me. 
 Kiirse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year 
 old,— 
 I bade her come.— What, lamb ! what, lady-bird! 
 God forbid !— whore's thi.s girl?— what, Juhet ! 
 i"n/er JuxiKT. 
 Jul. How now, who calls'! 
 Nurse. Your mother. 
 
 Jul. Madam, I am here, 
 
 What is your will ? 
 La. Cap. This is the matter:— Nurse, give leave 
 avi'hile, 
 We must talk in secret.— Nurse, come back again ; 
 1 have rememberM me, thou shall hear our counsel. 
 Thou kTiow'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. 
 Nur.ie. 'Faith, 1 can tell her age unto an hour. 
 La. Cap. She's not fourteen. 
 Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, — 
 And yet. to my teen' be i t spoken, 1 have hut four,— 
 She is not fourteen: How long is it now 
 To Lammas-tide ? 
 La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. 
 
 Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, 
 Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be i'onrteen. 
 Susan and she, — God rest all Christain souls!— 
 Were of an age.— Well. Susan is with God; 
 She was too good for mo: But as I said. 
 On I.amraas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; 
 That shall she, marry ; I remember it well. 
 'Tis since .the earthquake now eleven years; 
 And she was wean'd,— I never shall forget it,— 
 Of all the days in the year, upon that day : 
 For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, 
 Sitting in the sun under the dove-ho'use wall, 
 My lord and you were then at Mantua : — 
 Nay. 1 do bear a brain:' — Hut, as I said. 
 When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple 
 Of my dug. and felt it bitter, pretty fool ! 
 To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. 
 Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, 
 To hit! me trudge. 
 
 Anil since that time it is eleven years: 
 Foi; then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,' 
 She could have run and waddled all about. 
 For even the day before, she broke her brow: 
 And then my husband— God be with his soul ! 
 'A was a merry man;— took up the child: 
 Yea^ quoth he, du.-it t/iaufall. upon thy face? 
 Thau unit fall buckwar/i. when thnu hast more wit; 
 If ill thou not. Jute? and by my holy dam.s 
 The pretty wretch left crying, and said — Ay: 
 To see now, how a jest iihall come about ! 
 I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, 
 I never should forget it; JFilt thou nut, Jule? 
 
 quoth he: 
 And, pretty fool, it stinted," and said—.iy. 
 La. Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy 
 
 peace. 
 Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but 
 laugh. 
 To think it should leave crying, and say — Ai/: 
 And yet I warrant, it had upon its brow 
 A buhip as big as a young cockrel's stone; 
 A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly. 
 Yea, quoth my hus!iand.^«//'s; upon thy face? 
 Thiiu wilt fall backward, when tlioii comlft to age; 
 Witt Hum not, Jule ? it stijited, and said — .Ay. 
 Jul. And stint thou too. 1 pray tliee.nurse". say I. 
 Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to 
 his grace! 
 Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd : 
 An I might live to see thee married once, 
 I have my wish. 
 
 La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme 
 I came to talk of:— Tell nie, daughter .riiliet. 
 How st:inds your dispoMiion to be married? 
 Jul. It is an honor lh;it I dream not of. 
 ^Nurse. An honor ! vrt're not I thine only nurse, 
 I d say. thou had'st suck'd wisdom from thy teat, 
 in. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger 
 than you, 
 
 B To my sorrnir. 
 
 * i. f. I have a porfi'rt rcnK-mljrflnco or reooUection. 
 
 • Tho cross. « Holy dame, t. o. the blessed Virgin. 
 1 It stopped crying. 
 
 Here, in Verona, ladies of esteem. 
 
 Are made already mothers : by my count, 
 
 I was your mother much upon these years 
 
 That you are now a maid. Thus then, m brief:— 
 
 The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. 
 
 Nurse. A man, young lady ! lady, such a man, 
 As all the world— Why, he's a man of wax.8 
 
 La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a 
 llower. 
 
 Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith, a very flower. 
 
 La. Cap. What say you 1 can you love the 
 gentleman ? 
 This night you shall behold him at our feast: 
 Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face. 
 And tind delight writ there with beauty's pen ; 
 Examine every married lineament, 
 .\nd see how one another lends content: 
 And what obscured in this tair volume lies. 
 Find written in the margin of his cycs.'J 
 This precious book of love, this unbound lover. 
 To beautify him only lacks a cover : 
 The fish lives in the sea;' and 'tis much pride, 
 For fair without the fair within to hide: 
 That book in many's eves doth share the glory. 
 That in gold clasps locks in the golden story ; 
 So shall you share all that he doth possess. 
 By having him, making yourselfno less. 
 
 Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; women grow by 
 men. 
 
 La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' 
 love ? 
 
 Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: 
 But no more deep will I endart mine eye, 
 Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served 
 up, you called, my young lady asked (or, the nurse 
 cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. 
 I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow 
 straight. 
 La. Cap. We follow thee.— Juliet, the county 
 
 stays. 
 Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy 
 flays. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— .4 Street. 
 
 Enter Romeo, Mkhcutio. Benvolio, tdthfive or sii 
 ■ Maskers, Torchbcarers, and otiiers. 
 
 Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke foi our 
 excuse ! 
 Or shall we on without apology? 
 
 Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: 
 We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd niih a scaif. 
 Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, 
 Searing the ladies like a crow-keeper;- 
 Nor no wilhout-book prologue, tiiiutly spoke 
 After the prompter, for our entrance : 
 Biitj let them measure us by what they will. 
 We'll measure them a measure.a and ll,^ gone. 
 
 Rom. Give me a torch,-!- 1 am not for this 
 ambling; 
 Being but heavy, I will bear the light. 
 
 Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you 
 dance. 
 
 Rnm. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes 
 Willi nimble soles : I have a soul of lead. 
 So slakes me to the ground, I cannot move. 
 
 Mer. Youarealover: borrow Cnpid's wings, 
 And .soar with tlieni above a common bound. 
 
 Rom. I am too sore impierced with bis shaft 
 To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, 
 I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe : 
 Under love's heavy burden do I sink. 
 
 Ma: And, to sink in it, .should you burden love; 
 Too great oppression for a tender' I hi ug. 
 
 Rnm. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough. 
 Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn. 
 
 Mer. If love be rough with you, be rougli with 
 love ; 
 
 8 Well made, as if he had lieen modelled in \yax. 
 
 " The comments on ancient books were alw.ays printed 
 in the margin. 
 
 ' i.e. Is not yet caught, whose skin was wanted to bind 
 bini. 
 
 ^ .\ .scju-e-crow, a figure made up to frighten crows. 
 
 s A dance. 
 
 « A torch hearer was a constant appendage to every 
 troop of maskers. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 705 
 
 Prick love for pi icking, and 5'ou heat Jove down. — 
 Give me a case to put my visage in ; 
 
 [PtilUiig on a Mask. 
 A visor for a visor! — what care I, 
 Wliat curious eye doth quoted deformities ? 
 Here are the beetle brows, shall blush for me. 
 
 Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, 
 But every man betake lum to his le'^s. 
 Rom. A torch lor uie; let wantons, light of 
 heart, 
 Tickle the sen.';eless rushes^ with their heels ; 
 For I am proverb'd with a grandf^ire i^hrase, — 
 I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. — 
 The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. 
 Mcr. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own 
 word: 
 If Ihou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire 
 Of this f save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st 
 Up to tlie ears. — Come, we burn daylight, ho. 
 Ro7n. Kay, that's not so. 
 
 Mer. I mean, sir, in delay. 
 
 We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. 
 Take our good nicamng: for our judgment sits 
 Five times in tiiat, ere once in our live wifs. 
 
 Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask; 
 But 'tis no wit lo go. 
 il/f- Why, may one aski 
 
 Rom. I dreamt a dream to-nig'ht. 
 Mer. And so did I. 
 
 Rum. Well, what was yours 1 
 Mer. That dreamers often lie. 
 
 Rum. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things 
 
 true. 
 Mcr. CI, llien; I see, queen Mab hath been with 
 you. 
 She is tlie liiiries' midwife; and she comes 
 In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
 On the fore-flnger of an alderman. 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies' 
 Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : 
 Her waggon-spokes made oflong spinners' legs ; 
 The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; 
 The traces, of the smallest spider's web; 
 The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams: 
 Her whip, of cricket's bone; the hish, of Kim: 
 Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, 
 Not half so big as a round little worm 
 Piick'd from the lazy finger of a maid: 
 Her chariot is an empty ha/.el-nul. 
 Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub. 
 Time out of mind the liiiries' coach-makers. 
 And in this slate she gallops night by night 
 Through lovers' brai.ns, and then they dream of 
 
 love: 
 On courliers' knees, that dream on court'sies 
 
 straight: 
 o'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: 
 O er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream ; 
 Which oil the angry Ma!) with blisters plagues. 
 Because their breath with sweet-meats tainted are. 
 Sonielime she gallops o'er a courlier's nose, 
 .'Vnd then dreams he of smelling out a suit i^ 
 And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail. 
 Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, 
 Then dreams he of another benefice: 
 Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck. 
 Anil then dreams he of cutting foreign throats. 
 Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Siianish blades. 
 Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon 
 Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes ; 
 And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two. 
 And sleeps again. This is that very liab. 
 That plats the manes of horses in the night; 
 And bakesf the elf-lnck.s9 in Ibul sluttish hairs, 
 Which cnce untangled, much misfortune bodes. 
 This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs. 
 That presses them, and learns them first to bear. 
 Making them women of good carriage. 
 This, this is she — 
 
 Ri-m. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; 
 
 Thou talk'st of nothing. 
 
 Mcr. Tvue,I talk of dreams; 
 
 Which are the children of an idle brain. 
 Begot of nothing but vain liintasy; 
 Which is as thin of substance as'lhe air ; 
 
 • OliSflTP. 
 
 « If was antiently ttie custom to strew rooms ^ith rashes. 
 1 Atoms. 8 A place m court. 
 
 * i.e. Fairy-locks, locks of hair clotted aud taoglcxl in 
 the night. 
 
 45 
 
 And more inconstant than the wind, who woos 
 y.\Qn now the frozen bosom of the north. 
 And, being anger'd, pulls away from thence. 
 Turning his liice to the dew-dropping south. 
 
 Ben. This wind you talk of; blows us from our- 
 selves ; 
 Supper is done, and we shall come too late. 
 
 Rnm. I fear, too early: lor my mind misgives, 
 Some consequence, }et hanging in the stars. 
 Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
 With this night's levels; and expire the term 
 Ofa despised life, clos'd in my breast. 
 By some vile Ibrh'it of untimely death: 
 But He, that hath the steerage of my course, 
 Direct my siiil !— On, lusty gentlemen. 
 
 Ben. Strike, drum. \^Exeunt, 
 
 SCF.N'E V.—.i Hall in Capulet's Hou.se. 
 Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 
 
 1 Scrv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take 
 away! he shill a trencher! he scrape a trencher! 
 
 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one 
 or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a 
 Ibnl thing. 
 
 1 Serv. Away with the joint stools, remove the 
 court-cupboard,' look to the plate: — good thou, 
 save me a piece of march-pane ;-and, as thou lovest 
 me, let the iiorter let in Susan Grindstone, and 
 Nell. — Antony ! and Potpan ! 
 
 2 Serv. .\y, boy ; ready. 
 
 1 iS'cri*. You are looked lor, and called for. asked 
 for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 
 
 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. — 
 Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer 
 liver take all. [They ret'ire behind. 
 
 Enter CapI'I.KT, S(e.,lvilh the Guests and Maskers. 
 C«;). Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have 
 their toes 
 Unplagucd with corns, will have about with you : — 
 Ah ha. my mistresses! which of you all 
 Vyillnow'deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she, 
 I'll swear, hath corns ; Am I come near you now? 
 You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day, 
 That I have worn a visor; and could tell 
 A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, 
 Such as would jjlease; — 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone. 
 You are welcome, gentlemen !— Come, musicians, 
 
 play, 
 A hall ! a hall !3 give room, and foot it, girls. 
 
 [Music j)lai/s, and they dance. 
 More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up. 
 And quench the fire, tlie room is grown too hot. — 
 Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. 
 Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; 
 For you and 1 are ]-iast our dancing days: 
 How' long is't now, since last yourself and I 
 Were in a mask? 
 2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. 
 
 1 Cup. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so 
 
 much ; 
 'Tis since Ihe nujitial of Lucentio. 
 Come Pentecost as quickly as it will. 
 Some five-aiid-twcnly years; and then we mask'd. 
 
 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir;. 
 His son is thirty. 
 
 1 Cap. Will you tell me that? 
 
 His son was but a ward two years ago. 
 
 Ram. What lady's that which doth enrich the 
 hand 
 Of yonder knight? 
 
 Serv. 1 know not. sir. 
 
 Rom. O. she doth teach the torches lo burn bright! 
 Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
 Like a rich jewel in an Kthiop's ear : 
 Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
 So shouts a snowy dove trooping with crows. 
 As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
 The measure^ done, I'll watch her place of stand/ 
 And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. 
 Did my heart love till now ? Ibrsweai- ft, sijjht ! 
 For 1 ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 
 
 Ti/I>. This, by his voice, should be a Montague : — 
 Fetch me my rapier, boy :— What ! dares the slave 
 Come hither, cover'd with an antic face. 
 To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ? 
 
 * A sideboard ou which the plate was placed. 
 
 u Almoud-cuke. 3 i. e. Make room. « The dance. 
 
706 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Now, by tlie stock and honor of my kin, 
 To strike him dead I liold it not a sin. 
 
 1 Cup. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore 
 
 storm you po? 
 Tv'j. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe : 
 A villain, ihat is hither come in spite, 
 To scorn at our solemnity this ni^ht. 
 1 Cap. Young Romeo is't 7 
 
 T!/!i. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 
 
 1 Cfip. Content thee, gentle coz, let hnn alone ; 
 He bears him like a portly K^'ille: an ; 
 And. to say trutli, Verona brags of him, 
 To be a virtuous and well-^overnM youth : 
 I would not lor the wealth of all this town, 
 Here in my liouse, do liitn disparagement: 
 Tlierelbre, be patient, take no note of him, 
 Ii IS my will ; the which if thou respect, 
 Siiow a liiir presence, and put olT these frowns, 
 An ill-boseeming semblance tor a feast. 
 
 Ti/!j. It hts, wJien such a villain is a guest; 
 I'll liot endure him. 
 
 1 Cap. He shall be endured ; 
 
 What, Koodman boy! — I say, lie shall; — Go to; — 
 Am I the master here, or yowl go to. 
 You'll not endure him ! — God shall mend my soul — 
 You'll make a mutiny among my guests! 
 Y'ou will ^ct cock-a-hoop ! you'll be the man I 
 Tijb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. 
 1 Cap. Go to, go to, 
 
 You are a saucy boy : — Is't so indeed ? — 
 This trick may chance to scath^ you; — I know what, 
 You must contrfiiy me ! marry, 'tis time — 
 WeU said, my hearts : — You are a princox \^ go : — 
 Be quiet, or—More light, more light ! — For 
 
 shame ! — 
 ril make you quiet; What !— Cheerly, my hearts. 
 Tyh. Pafienceperforce with wilful cholcrmeeling, 
 Mnkes my flesh tremble in their dillerent greeting. 
 I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, 
 Is'ow seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. \^Exit. 
 Rum. if 1 profane with my unworthy hend 
 
 [To Juliet. 
 This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this, — 
 My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 
 
 To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss, 
 Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too 
 much, 
 Which mannerly devotion shows in this; 
 For saints have hand:?that pilgrims' hands do touch, 
 And palm to palm is lioiy jialmcrs' kiss. 
 Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers tool 
 Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips, that they must use in 
 
 prayer. 
 Rom, O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands 
 do; 
 They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 
 Jul. yaintsdo not move, though grant for prayers' 
 
 sake. 
 Rom. 'I hen move not, while my prayer's ctroct 
 I take. 
 Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. 
 
 [Kissing her. 
 
 Jul. Then have my lips thesin that they have look, 
 
 Rom. 8ni from my lips? trespass sweetly urged ! 
 Give me my sin again. 
 
 Jul. You kiss by the book. 
 
 Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with 
 you, 
 
 Rom. What is her mother 1 
 
 Nur.se. Marry, bachelor, 
 
 Her motJicr is the lady of the house. 
 And a good lady, and a wiee, and virtuous: 
 I nurs'd her dauf^hter, that you talk'd withal; 
 I toll you, — he, that can lay hold of her. 
 Shall have the clunks. 
 
 Rom. Is she a Capuletl 
 
 dear account! my life is my foe's debt. 
 Ben. Away ; begone ; the sport is at the best. 
 Rom. Ay, so 1 fear; the more is my unrest. 
 
 1 Cap. Nay. gentlemen, prepare not to begone; 
 We have a tiilling foolish banquet towards.^ 
 Is it e'en so 1 Why, then I thank you all ; 
 
 1 thank you, honest gentlemen ; good night: — 
 More torches here!— Come on, then, let's to bed. 
 Ah, sirrali, [7'o 2 Cap.] by my fay," it waxes late; 
 I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all Out Juliet and Nurse. 
 
 Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentle- 
 man 1 
 
 Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. 
 
 Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door 7 
 
 Nurse. Marry, that, I tliink. be young Petruchio. 
 
 Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would 
 not dance 1 
 
 Nurse. I know not. 
 
 Jul. Go. ask his name : — if he be married, 
 My grave is like to be my wedding-bed. 
 
 Nurse. His name is Uomco. ami a Montague; 
 The only son of your great enemy. 
 
 Jul. My only love sprung irom my only hate! 
 Too early seen unknown, and known too late I 
 Prodigious birth of love it is to me. 
 That I must love a loathed enemy. 
 
 Nui'se. What's this ? what's this ? 
 
 Jul. A rhyme 1 learn 'd even now 
 
 Of one I danced withal. [0/te calls wilhi?i, Juliet! 
 
 Nurse. Anon, anon ; — 
 
 Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Now old Desire doth in his death-bed lie. 
 
 And young Aflection gapes to be his heir; 
 That lair, for which love groaned, and would die, 
 
 With tender Juliet matcli'd is now not fair. 
 Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again, 
 
 Alike bewitched by the charm of h)oks; 
 But to his foe suppos'd he must complain. 
 
 And she steal love's sweet bait from tearful hooks: 
 Being held a toe, he may not have access 
 
 To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; 
 And she as much in love, her means much less 
 
 To meet her new-beloved any where: 
 But passion lends them power, time means to meet, 
 Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— An opeyi place atljoining Capulet's 
 GanltJi. 
 Enter Romf.o. 
 Rmii. Can I fjo forward when my iipart is Jicre? 
 Turn back, duil earth, and rind tliy centre out. 
 [He climbs the IVally and leaps ilinvn wit/tin if. 
 Enter Benvolio and Meucutio. 
 Ben. Romeo ! my cousin Romeo ! 
 Mer. He is wise ; 
 
 And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. 
 
 Bf;i. lie ran this way, and Iciiji'd this orchard wall : 
 Call, good Mercutio. 
 
 Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too — 
 
 Romeo! humors! madman! passion! lover! 
 Appear thou in the likeness of a sifjh, 
 .Speak bvit one rhyme, and I am satisfied; 
 Cry hut — Ah me ! — coujile but — love and dove; 
 Sj)eak lo my gossij) Venus one linr word, 
 
 * Un J nu .in iiij ury. a .\ coxcomb. 
 
 One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, 
 Young Adam Cupid, he lliat sliot so trim, 
 When king Coplietua lov'd the begsar-maid.s — 
 He Iiearetii not. stirrcth not. he movetli not; 
 The ajie' is de.Td. and 1 must conjure him. — 
 I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes. 
 By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip. 
 By her lino foot, straight leg, and quivering Ihifjh, 
 And the demesnes that there adjacent lie. 
 That in thy likeness thou appear to us. 
 
 Sen. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. 
 
 Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him 
 To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle. 
 Of some strange nature, lettingit there stand 
 Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; 
 That were some spite; my invocation 
 
 ■> F!iitb. 
 
 ■ Alluiling to the old b.ill.nd of (he Iiing nnd the beggar. 
 • This phmse in Shakspeare's time wks used as an e» 
 pressiou of tenderness. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 707 
 
 Is fair and hnnrst, and, in his mistress' name, 
 I conjure only but to raise up liim. 
 
 Ben. Come, he hatli hid himself among those trees, 
 To be consorted witli the liumorous' niglit: 
 Blind is Ills love, and host befits the dark. 
 
 Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. 
 No'.v will he sit under a medlar-tree. 
 And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit. 
 As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. — 
 Romeo, good night;— I'll to my truckle-bed; 
 This field-bed is too cold for lue to sleep; 
 Come, shall we go 1 
 
 Ben. Go, then ; for 'tis in vain 
 
 To seek him here, that means not to be Ibund. 
 
 [Exeutit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Capulet's Garden. 
 Enter RoJiEO. 
 
 Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. — 
 [Jn-IET appears above, at a Wimtow. 
 But.sofl! what light Ihroughyondcr window breaksf 
 It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — 
 Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon. 
 Who is already sick and pale with grief, 
 That thou her maid art far more fair than she: 
 Be not Iicr maid, since siie is envious; 
 ILer vestal livery is but sick and green. 
 And none but fuols do wear it ; cast it off.— 
 It is my lady ; O, it is my love : 
 O, that she knew she were I — 
 She speaks, yet she says nothing: What of that? 
 Her eye discourses, I will answer it. — 
 1 am too bold, 'tis not to nie she sjieaks : 
 Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven. 
 Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
 To twinkle in their spheres till tlicy return. 
 What if her eyes were there, they in her head 1 
 The hrightness of her eheekwould shame Ihosestars, 
 As d;i\ liglit doth a lamp; her eye in heaven 
 Would through the airy region stream so bright, 
 Tliat hi.-ds would sing, and Ihinkit were not night. 
 See. how she leans her check upon her hand ! 
 (), that I were a glove upon that hand, 
 That I might touch that check '. 
 
 Jul. Ah me ! 
 
 Kom. She speaks:— 
 
 O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
 As glorious to this night, being o'er my head. 
 As is a winged messenger of lieaven 
 Unto the white-upturned vvond'ring eyes 
 Of mortals, that tail back to gaze oii hiui. 
 When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
 And sails ujion the bosom ol Ihe air. 
 
 Jal. Romeo, Romcol wherefore art thou Romeo? 
 Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: 
 Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
 AJid I'll no longer be a Capulet. 
 
 Horn. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? 
 
 , , , . {Aside. 
 
 Jul. Tis but thy name, that is my enemy ; — 
 Thouart thyself though, not a Montague. 
 What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor loot. 
 Nor arm, nor lace, nor any other part 
 Belonging to a man. O, be some other name ! 
 What's in a name! that which we call a rose, 
 By any other name would smell as sweet ; 
 So Romeo would, were he not Romeo eall'd. 
 Retain that dear perfection which he owe*,? 
 Without that title :— Romeo, doll^ thy name ; 
 And lor that name which is no part of thee. 
 Take all myself. 
 
 Horn. I take thee at thy word: 
 
 Call me but love, and I'll be new ba'pliz'd ; 
 Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 
 
 Jul. What man art ihou, that, thus bescreen'd 
 in night. 
 So stumbles! on my counsel? 
 
 li^ni. By a name 
 
 I know not how to tell thee who 1 am : 
 My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself. 
 Because it is an enemy to thee; 
 Had I it written, I would tear the word. 
 
 Jal. My ears have not jet drunk a hundred words 
 Of that tongue's utterance, vet I know the sound; 
 Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? 
 
 Rom. Neither, lair saint, if either thee dislike. 
 
 Jul. How cam'st thou hitlier, tell me \ and where- 
 f6re ! 
 
 * Humid, moist. « Owns, possesses. > Do off, put off. 
 
 The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb ; 
 .\nd the place death, considering wiio thou art, 
 If any of my kinsmen find thee here. 
 Riini. With love's light wings did I o'er-pcrch 
 these walls ; 
 For stony limits cannot hold love out : 
 And what love can do, that dares love attempt. 
 Therefore thy kinsmen are no let' to me. 
 Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. 
 Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye. 
 Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet. 
 And 1 am proof against their enmity. 
 Jul. I would not (or the world they saw thee here. 
 Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their 
 sight; 
 And, but= thou love me, let them find me here : 
 My life w'cre better ended by their hate. 
 Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 
 Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this 
 
 place ? 
 Rnm. Uy love, who firstdid prompt me to inquire ; 
 He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
 I am no pilot; yet wert thou as tar 
 As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, 
 I would adventure lor such merchandise. 
 
 /:</. Thou knnw'st the mask of night ison my (ace. 
 Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek. 
 For that which thou liast heard me speak to-night. 
 Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain, deny 
 What I have spoke: But fiirewell compliment! 
 Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say — Ay; 
 .\nd 1 wlllj-ake thy word: yet if thou swear'sl. 
 Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries, 
 They say. Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, 
 If thou dost love, pronounce it (i^ithfuUy : 
 Or, if thou thiuk'st I am too quickly won, 
 I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay. 
 So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. 
 In truth, lair Montague, I am too fond ; 
 And therefore thou may'st think my 'havior light : 
 But, trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
 Than those that have more cunning to be strange.^ 
 I should have been more strange, 1 must confess, 
 But that thou overheardst, ere I was 'ware. 
 My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me; 
 And not impute this yielding to light love. 
 Which the dark night liath so discovered. 
 
 Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, 
 That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops. — 
 Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant 
 moon. 
 That monthly ch.anges in her circled orb. 
 Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 
 Rota. What shall I swear by ! 
 Jul. Do not swear at all; 
 
 Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self. 
 Which is the god of my idolatry, 
 And I'll believe thee. 
 Rom. If my heart's dear love— 
 
 Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, 
 I have no joy of this contract to-night: 
 It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; 
 Too like t)ie lightning, which doth cease to be. 
 Ere one can say— Jt lightens. S weet, good-night ! 
 This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath. 
 May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 
 Good-night, good-night! as sweet repose and rest 
 Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! 
 Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied \ 
 Jul. What satisliiction canst thou have to- 
 night? 
 Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for 
 
 mine. 
 Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request 
 it: 
 And yet I would it were to give again. 
 Ro'm. Wouldst thou withdraw it? (or what pur- 
 pose, love ? 
 Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. 
 And yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
 My bounty is as boundless as the .sea. 
 My love as deep; the more I give to thee, 
 The more I have, for both are infinite. 
 
 [Nurse ealls within 
 I hear some noise within : Dear love, adieu ! 
 Anon, good nurse !— Sweet Montague, be true. 
 Stay but a little, I will come again. [Kxit. 
 
 Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. 
 
 • Ilindiance. 
 
 • UnUss. 
 
 .=by. 
 
708 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Being in niis^ht, all this is buL a dream, 
 Too flattering sweet to be substantial. 
 Re-enter Juliet, above> 
 Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good-night, 
 indeed. 
 If tliat thy bent" of love be honorable. 
 Thy puniose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 
 By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 
 Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; 
 And all my fortunes at thy loot Til lay. 
 And tbllow thee, my lord, throughout the world : — 
 Nurse. [ JViiJiin.] Madam. 
 
 JuL I come, anon: — But if thou meanest not 
 well, 
 I do beseech thee, — 
 Nurse. [Within.] Madam. 
 
 Jul. By and by, I come : — 
 
 To cease tliy snit, and leave me to my grief: 
 To-niorrowwill I send. 
 Rfim. So thrive mv soul_. — 
 
 Jul. A thousand times good-night! [Exit. 
 
 Rom. A tliousand times the worse, to want thy 
 light.- 
 Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their 
 
 books. 
 But love firom love, toward school with heavy looks. 
 [Retiring slowly. 
 
 Re-enter Juliet, above. 
 
 JuL Hist! Romeo, hist! — 0, for a falconer's 
 voice. 
 To lure this tassel-gentle^ back again ! 
 Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
 Klpe would I tear the cave where echo lies, 
 And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
 Wilh repetition of my Romeo's name. 
 
 Rii7n. It is my soul that calls upon my name: 
 How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
 Like sottest music to attending ears! 
 
 JuL Romeo ! 
 
 Ri>ni. My sweet! 
 
 Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 
 
 SJiall I send to thee 1 
 
 R<i?u. At the hour oi^ nine, 
 
 Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then. 
 I have forgot why I did call thee hack. 
 
 Rtun. Let me stand here till thon remember it. 
 
 JuL I shall forget, to iiave thee still stand there. 
 Remembering how I love thy company. 
 
 Rnm. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget. 
 Forgetting any other home but this, 
 
 Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone : 
 And yet no further than a wanton^'s bird ; 
 Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 
 Like a _poor prisoner in liis twisted gyves,^ 
 And with a silk thread plucks it back again. 
 So loving-jeahms of his liberty. 
 
 Rom. I would, I were thy bird. 
 
 JuL Sweet, so would 1 : 
 
 Yet I should kill thee with much cherisinng. 
 Good-night, good-night! parting is such siveet sor- 
 row, 
 That I shall say — good-night, till it be morrow. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy 
 breast ! — 
 Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! 
 Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell; 
 liis help to crave, and my" dear hap' to tell. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III.— Friar Laurence's CelL 
 Enter Fkiar Laurence, unth a basket. 
 
 Fri. Tlie grcy-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning 
 night. 
 Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ; 
 And llcrked- darktirss like a drunkard reels 
 From tbrth day's pathway, made byTitanVwheels: 
 Now ere the sun advance his burning eye. 
 The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, 
 1 must till up this osier cage of ours, 
 With baletul weeds, and precious-juiced flowers. 
 The earth, that's nature's mother, 'is her tomb; 
 What is her burying grave, that is her womb: 
 And from her wmnb children of divers kind 
 AVe sucking on her natural bosom fhid; 
 
 1 Inclination. 
 
 • The Uircd is the miUti hn\Yk, tlio falcon the fenrnlG. 
 
 B KetterK. * Clianop, fortune. 
 
 » inputted, streaked. ^ Thy sua. 
 
 Many for many virtues excellent. 
 
 None but for some, and yet all different. 
 
 O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies 
 
 In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities . 
 
 For naught so vile that on the earth doth live. 
 
 But to the earth some special good doLh give; 
 
 Nor aught .so good, but. strain'd Irom tliat fair use, 
 
 Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse ■ 
 
 Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; 
 
 And vice sometimc's by action dignified. 
 
 Within the infant rind of this small Hower 
 
 Poison hath residence, and med'cinc power: 
 
 For this, being smelt, wilh that part cheers each 
 
 part. 
 Being lasted, slays all senses with i\\e heart. 
 Two such opposed foes encamp them still 
 In man as Well as herbs, grace, and rude will 
 And where the worser is predominant, 
 FuU soon the canker death eats up that plant. 
 Enter Romeo. 
 Rnm. Good-morrow, father! 
 Fri. Benedinfe .' 
 
 What early tongue so sweet saluteth me] 
 Young son, it argues a distempcrM head, 
 So soon to bid good-morrow to thy bed; 
 Care keeps his watch in every olil man's eye, 
 And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; 
 But where nnbruised youth with unstulf'd brain 
 Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: 
 Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, 
 Thou art up-rousM by some distenip'rature ; 
 Or if not so, then here T hit it right — 
 Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night, 
 Rom. That last is true.thesweeter rest was mine. 
 Fri. God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosaline? 
 Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; 
 I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. 
 Fri. That^s my good son: But wliere hast thou 
 
 been then '? 
 Rom. ril tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. 
 I have been feasting with mine enemy; 
 Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me. 
 That's by me wounded; both our remedies 
 Within thy help and holy physic lies; 
 I bear no natrcd, blessed" man : for, lo, 
 My intercession likewise steads my foe. 
 
 Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drilt. 
 Riddling confession finds but riddling shrilt. 
 Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is 
 set 
 On the fair daughter of rich Capulet : 
 As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ; 
 And all combined, save what thou must combine 
 By holy marriage, when, and where, and how, 
 \Ve met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, 
 I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray, 
 That thou consent to marry us thi^i daj-. 
 
 Fri. Ifoly saint Francis ! what a change is here ! 
 Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear. 
 So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies 
 Not truly in their hearts i)ut in their eyes. 
 Jesu Maria ! what a deal of brine 
 Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! 
 Ilow much salt water thrown away in waste, 
 To season love, that of it doth not taste! 
 The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, 
 Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; 
 Lo. here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit 
 Of an old tear that is not wash'd otf yet: 
 If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, 
 Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline; 
 And art thou changed] pronounce this sentence 
 
 then — 
 Women may fall, when there's no streneth in men 
 Rom. Thou ehid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. 
 Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine, 
 Rnm. And bad'st me bury love. 
 Fri. Not in a grave 
 
 To lay one in, another out to have. 
 Rom. I pray theo, chide not: she, whom I lova 
 now, 
 Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; 
 The other did not so. 
 
 Fri. 0, she kTiew well, 
 
 Thy love did rend by rote, and could not .spell. 
 Hut come, young waverer, come go with me, 
 In one respect I'll thy assistant be; 
 For this alliance may so happy prove, 
 To turn your households' rancor to pure love. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 700 
 
 Rom, O let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. 
 Fri. Wisely and slow; they stumble that run 
 last. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^ Sh-cef. 
 Enter Benyolio and Meucutio. 
 
 Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? 
 Came he not home to-nif;ht ? 
 
 Ben. Nu* to his father's; I spoke with liis man. 
 
 Mer. Ah. Miut same pale hard-hearted wench, 
 tn ic Rosaline, 
 Torments him so, tliat he will sure run mad. 
 
 Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, 
 Hath sent a letter to his latlier\s house. 
 
 Mer, A challenjie, on my life, 
 
 Ben. Romeo will answer it. 
 
 Mer, Any man, that can wTite, may answer a 
 letter. 
 
 Ben, Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how 
 he dares, being dared, 
 
 Mer, Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! 
 stabljed with a white wench's black eye! shot 
 through the ear with a love-song: the very pin of 
 his heart cleft witli tlie blind bow-boy'sbutt-sh'aft;' 
 And is he a man to encounter Tybalt.' 
 
 Ben, Why, what is Tybalt ] 
 
 Mer. More th^n prince of cat,*,^ I can tell you. 
 0, he is the courageous captain of comp>linients. 
 He tights as you sing prick-song,^ keeps time, dis- 
 tance, and proportion ; rests me his minim rest one, 
 two, and the third in your bosom : tiic very butcher 
 of a silk button, a duelUst, a duellist; a gentleman 
 of the very iirst house, — of the first and second 
 cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the punto re- 
 verso ! the hay V 
 
 Be7i, The wliat? 
 
 Mer, The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting 
 fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accenLs! — Bt/ 
 Jesu, a very good blade! — a very tall man! — a 
 very f^ood ivho7'€ ! — Whj', is not this a lamentable 
 thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afHictcd 
 with these strange Hies, these tiishion-mongers, 
 these pardonnez-moys, who stand so much on tlie 
 new form, tiiat they "cannot sit at ease on the old 
 bench 1 O, tlieir bons, their boiis ! 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. 
 
 Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring: — O 
 fish, ticsh, how art thou fishirted !— Now is he for 
 the numbers that Petrarch llov^'od in : Laura, to his 
 lady, was but a kitclien-wcneh ;— marry, she had 
 a better love to bc-rliyme her: Dido, a dowdy; 
 Cleopatra, a gipsy ; Helen and Hero, hildings and 
 harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the 
 purpose. — Signior Romeo, boa jour! There's a 
 French salutation to your FrencJi slop.^ You gave 
 us the connterteit fairly last night. 
 
 Rom. Good-morrow to you both. What coun- 
 terfeit did I give youl 
 
 Mer. The slip, sir, the slip;^ Can you not con- 
 ceive \ 
 
 Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was 
 great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may 
 strain courtesy. 
 
 Mer, That's as much as to say— such a case as 
 yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. 
 
 Rom. Meaning — to court'sy. 
 
 Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. 
 
 Rnm A most courteous exitosilion. 
 
 JSler. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy 
 
 Ham. Pink for llower. 
 
 Mer. Right. 
 
 Rom. Why, then is my pump' well flowered, 
 
 Mer. Well said: Follow me this jest now, till 
 thou hast worn out thy pump; tiiat, when the sin- 
 gle sole of it is worn", the jest may remain aller 
 the wearing, solely singular. 
 
 Rum. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the 
 singleness! 
 
 Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits 
 fail. 
 
 Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or 
 I'll cry a match. 
 
 « Arrow. s See tho story of Reynard the fox. 
 
 c By uutt's prirked ilowu. 
 ' Terms ol" tbu f(_'ncIng-school. 
 
 8 TrowFiTs or pantulooos, a French fashion iu Shak- 
 fipeare'fl time. 
 • A pun on counterfeit money called slips. * Shoe. 
 
 Mer, Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, 
 I have done: lor thou hast more of the wild-goose 
 in one of liiy wits, than, I am sure, 1 have in my 
 whole five: \Vas I with you there lor the goose ! 
 
 Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing. 
 when thou wast not there for the goose, 
 
 Mer, 1 will bite tliec by the ear lor that jest. 
 
 Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. 
 
 Mer. TJiy wit is a very bitter-sweeting ;2 it is a 
 most sharp sauce. 
 
 Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet 
 goose ! 
 
 Mer, 0, here's a wit of cheverel 3 that stretches 
 from an inch narrow to an ell broad ! 
 
 Rom. I stretch it out for that word — broad: 
 which added to the goose, proves thee far and 
 wide a broad goose. 
 
 Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning 
 for love! now art thou sociable, now art thou Ro- 
 meo; now art thoii what ihou art, by art as well 
 as by nature: tor this drivelling love is like a great 
 natural, that runs lolling up and down, to hide his 
 bauble in a hole. 
 
 Ben. Stop there, stop there. 
 
 Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my talc against 
 the hair. 
 
 Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tiilc 
 large. 
 
 Mer. 0, thou art deceived. I would have made 
 it short: lor I was come to the whole depth of my 
 tale; and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument 
 no longer. 
 
 Rom. Here's goodly gecr! 
 
 Enter Nurse a7id Peter. 
 
 Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail ! 
 
 Ben. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock. 
 
 Nurse. Peter ! 
 
 Ret. Anon i 
 
 Nurse. My Ian, Peter. 
 
 Mer. Pr'vthee, do, good Peter, to hide her face; 
 for her fan s iJic fairer of tlte two. 
 
 Nurse, (lod ye good-morrow, gentlemen. 
 
 Mer. God ye good-den,** lair gentlewoman. 
 
 Nurse, Is it good-den .' 
 
 Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy hand 
 of ijie dial is now upon the prick^ of noon. 
 
 Nurse, Out upon you ! wJiat a man are j'ou ? 
 
 Rom, One, genllowoman, that God haiii made 
 himself to mar. 
 
 Nurse, By my troth, it is well said;— For him- 
 self to mar, quotlfa 1 — Gentlemen, cau any of you 
 tell me wlierc I may find the >oung Romeo ! 
 
 Rom. I can tell you; but joung Romeo will be 
 older when you have lound him, than he was when 
 you souglitliim ; I am the youngest of that name, 
 for 'lault of a worse. 
 
 Nurse. You say well. 
 
 Mer. Yea, is t'he worse well? very well took, 
 i' liiith; wisely, wisely. 
 
 Nurse, If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence 
 with you ! 
 
 Ben, She will indite him to some t-uppcr. 
 
 Mei: A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So lio ! 
 
 Rom. VVliat hast thou found ? 
 
 Mer. No hare, sir ; unless a hare, .sir. in a Icnteu 
 pie, that is sometliing stale and hoarereitbespent. 
 An old fiare hnarfi 
 And an old hare hoar. 
 Is very ^ood meat in lent : 
 But a hare tliat is Aoar, 
 Is too muchfor a scure^ 
 When it hoars ere it be spent. 
 Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to 
 dinner thither. 
 
 R(nu. 1 will fiillow you. 
 
 Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, ladj', 
 lady. [Exeunt JNIekcutio an<l Benvolio. 
 
 Nurse, ^iarry, tareweli! — I pray you, sir, what 
 saucy merchant" was this, that was so fiUi of his 
 ropery ' 
 
 R<nn. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to iiear 
 himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, tiiaii 
 he will stand to in a month. 
 
 Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll 
 take Iiim down an 'a were lustier than he is, and 
 twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll tind those 
 
 3 An npplo. » Soft stretching leather. « GooJ-even. 
 
 s I'oint. ■ Iloary, moukiy. 
 
 ■< A term of disrespect, in contradistinction to g^'utJeman. 
 
710 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act II. Scene VI. 
 
 that sliall.— Scurvy kiiavc ! I am none of liis (livt- 
 gills; I am none of his skains-mates:'— And thou 
 must stand by too, and sutler every knave to use 
 nie at his pleasure 1 
 
 Pet. I .saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I 
 had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I 
 warrant you: I dare draw as soon as another man, 
 if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on 
 my side. 
 
 Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that 
 every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave !— Pray 
 5 ou, sir, a word ; and, as I told you, my young 
 lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me 
 say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, 
 it ye should lead her into a tool's paradise, as they 
 say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as tliey 
 say : lor the gentlewoman is young: and, theretbre, 
 it you should deal double with her, truly, it were 
 an ill thing to be oflered to any gentlewoman, and 
 very weak dealing. 
 
 Rum. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mis- 
 tress. I protest unto tiiee,— 
 
 Nurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her 
 as much: Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman. 
 
 Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse! thou dost 
 not mark me. 
 
 Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; 
 ■nliiih, as I take it, is a gciitleman-like olftr. 
 
 Rviii. Bid her devise some means to come to 
 shiitia 
 This afternoon ; 
 
 And there she shall at friar Laurence' cell 
 Be shriv'd and married. Here is lor Ihy pains. 
 
 Aurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny. 
 
 Rum. Go to ; I say you shall. 
 
 Nurse. This afternoon, sir; well, she shall be 
 there. 
 
 Rum. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey- 
 wall : 
 Within this hour my man shall be with thee ; 
 And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, 
 Winch to the high top-gallanti of my joy 
 Must be my convoy in the secret night. 
 J'arewelU— Be trusty, and I'll quit* thy pains. 
 I'arewell !— Comnu-iid me to thy mistress. 
 
 jSurse. Now, God in heaven bless thee! Hark 
 you, sir. 
 
 Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse 1 
 
 Aurse. Is your man secret ! Did you ne'er hear 
 
 Two may keep counsel, putting one away 'i 
 Rnin. 1 warrant thee; my man's as true as steel. 
 Aurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest 
 lady— Lord, lord !— when 'twas a little prating 
 thing. — O,— Ihcre's a nobleman in town, one Paris, 
 that would lain lay knile aboard; but she, good 
 soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see 
 Inm. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris 
 is the propercr man; but, I'll warrant you, when I 
 say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal 
 world. Dotli not rosemary and Romeo begin both 
 wilh a letter? 
 Rum. Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. 
 Nurse. .\h, mocker! that's the dog's name; Ris 
 for the dog. No; I know it begins with some 
 olher letter; and she hath tlie prettiest sententious 
 of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you 
 good to hear it. 
 Rom. Connnend me to thy lady. [Exit. 
 
 Nurse. Ay, a thousand times.— Peter ! 
 Pel. Anon '! 
 Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE v.— Capulet's Garden. 
 Enter JuLiKT. 
 Jut. The clock struck nine, when I did send 
 the nurse ; 
 In half an hour she promis'd to return. 
 Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.— 
 O, she is lame! lovc"s heralds should be thoughts. 
 Which ten times taster glide than the sun's beams, 
 Driving back shadows over low'iing hills : 
 Therefore do nimhie-piuion'd doves draw love. 
 And theretbre hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 
 Now is the sun upon the highmost hill 
 
 • A mate or companion of one wearing a skain— a short 
 sword. a Confession. 
 
 > The hiiiliest extremity of the mast of a ship. 
 
 • Kequite. 
 
 0( tnis day s journey ; and from nine till twelve 
 
 Is three long hours,— yet she is not come. 
 
 Had she allections, and warm youthful blood, 
 
 She'd be as swift in motion as a ball; 
 
 IWy words would baudy^ her to my sweet love. 
 
 And his to me : 
 
 But old folks many, feign as they were dead ; 
 , Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. 
 I Enter Nurse and Peter. 
 
 O God, .she comes !— honey nurse, what news] 
 
 Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. 
 Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Pei 
 
 Jul. Now, good, sweet nurse,— O lord! v 
 
 ETEIU 
 
 why 
 
 look'sf thou sad? 
 Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; 
 If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news 
 By playing it to me with so sour a liice. 
 
 Nurse. 1 am weary, give me leave a while ;— 
 Fye, how my bones ache? What a jaunt have I had. 
 Jut. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy 
 news : 
 Nay, come, I pray thee, speak;- good, good nurse, 
 speak. 
 Nurse. Jesu! What haste? can you not stay a 
 while ? 
 Do you not see that I am out of breath ? 
 Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast 
 breath 
 To say to me— that thou art out of breath ? 
 The excuse that thou dost make in this delay. 
 Is longer Ihan the tale thou dost excuse. 
 Is thy news good or bad ! answer to that ; 
 Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance : 
 Let me be .satisfied, Is't good or bad ? 
 
 Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; 
 .you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, 
 not he ; though his lace be better than any man's, 
 yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand and a 
 toot, and a body,— though they be not to be talked 
 on, yet they are past compare : He is not the llower 
 of courtesy,— but. Til warrant him, as genlle as a 
 lamb.— Go thy ways, wench; serve God.— What, 
 have you dined at home ? 
 
 Jul. No, no : But all this did I know before ; 
 Wliat says he otour marriage? what of that? 
 Nurse. Lord, how my head aches ! what a head 
 have I ! 
 It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. 
 JNIy back o' t'other side. O, my back, my back !— 
 Beshrew your heart, for sending me about. 
 To catch my death with jaunting up and down ! 
 Jul. V liiith, I am sorry that thou art not well : 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my 
 love ? 
 Nurse. Your love .says, like an honest gentleman, 
 And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, 
 
 And, I warrant, a virtuous: Where is your 
 
 mother ? 
 Jul. Where is my mother?— why, she is within ; 
 Where should she he ? How oddly thou reply'st; 
 Yutir luve says like an livnesl gentleman,— 
 Where u your mother. ^ 
 
 Nurse. 0, God's lady dear ! 
 
 Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow : 
 Is this the poultice tor my aching bones ? 
 Hencctbrward do your messages yourself. 
 Jut. Here's such a coilli- come, what says 
 
 Romeo? 
 Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day ' 
 Jul. I have. 
 
 Nurse.Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell 
 There stays a husband to make you a wife: 
 Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks. 
 They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. 
 Hie you to church : I must another way. 
 To lelch a ladder, by tlie wliich vour love 
 Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark: 
 1 am Ihe drudge, and toil in your delight; 
 But you shall bear Ihe burden .soon at night, 
 lio, I II to dinner; hie you to the cell. 
 Jut. Hie to high fortune !— honest nurse, fare- 
 "'""• [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VL— Friar Laurence' Celt. 
 Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo. 
 Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act, 
 That after-hours with sorrow chide us not. 
 
 » Drive her, as a b;Ul struck Kith a bandy, i. e. a liat o? 
 battledore. < Bustle. 
 
Act III. Scene I. 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 711 
 
 Rom. Amen, amen \ but come what sorrow can, 
 It cannot countervail the exchange of joy 
 That one short minute gives me in her sight : 
 Do thou but close our hands with holy words, 
 Then iove-devourins death do what he dare, 
 It is enoug;h I may but call her mine. 
 
 Fri. The^^c violent delights have violent ends, 
 And in their triumph die; like tire and powder, 
 Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest 
 
 honey 
 Is loaih-;ome in his own deliciousness. 
 And in the taste confounds the appetite : 
 Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so; 
 Too swift arrivc-s as tardy as too slow. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Here comes the lady :— 0, so light a foot 
 Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint : 
 A lover may bestride the gossamers^ 
 That idle iii the wanton summer nir, 
 And yet not lali ; so light is vanity. 
 
 Jul. Good-even to my ghostly confessor. 
 
 Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us 
 both. 
 
 Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too 
 much. 
 
 Rom. Ah. Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 
 lie heapM like mine, and that thy skill be more 
 To blazon^ it, then sweeten with thy breath 
 This neighbor air. and let rich muslc'.s tongue 
 Untold the imaginM happiness that both 
 Receive in either by tiiis dear encounter. 
 
 Jul. Conceit," more rich in matter tlian in words, 
 Hrags of his substance, not of ornament: 
 They are but beggars that can count their worth; 
 IJut my true love is grown to such excess, 
 I cannot sum up half my sum of wcaltli. 
 
 Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make 
 short work; 
 For. hy your leaves, you shall not stay alone. 
 Till holy churcli incorporate two in one. 
 
 {Exeunt, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE \.-A Public Place. 
 Enter Mercutio, Ben'volto, Page, awl Servants. 
 
 Ben. I pray thcc, good Mercutio, let's retire; 
 Tile day is iiot, tjie Capulets abroad. 
 And, if we meet, wo sliall not 'scape a brawl ; 
 For now. these hot days, ia the mad bloorl stirring. 
 
 Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, 
 when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps nie 
 his sword upon the table, and says, Gail send me 
 no needoflhee .' and, hy the operation of the second 
 cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is 
 no need. 
 
 Hen. Am I like such a fellow 7 
 
 Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy 
 mood as any in Italy; and as soon jnovcd to be 
 moody, and as soon moody to be moved. 
 
 Ben. And what to 7 
 
 Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should 
 have none shortly, lijr one would kill the other. 
 Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man thatliath 
 a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou 
 hast. Thou will quarrel with a man for cracking 
 nuts, having no otlicr reason but because thou hast 
 hazel eyes; What eye- but such an eye, would spy 
 out such a quarrel 1 Thy head is as full of quarrels 
 as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath 
 been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. 
 Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in 
 the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that 
 hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out 
 with a tailor lor wearing his new doublet before 
 Easier t with another, for tying his new shoes with 
 old riband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quar- 
 relling '. 
 
 Ben. An I were .so apt to quarrel as thou art.any 
 man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an 
 hour and a quarter. 
 
 Mer. The fee-simple 1 simple ! 
 
 En/er Tybalt an/l others. 
 
 Ben. By my lieail, here come the Capulets. 
 
 Jlffr. By my heel. 1 care not. 
 
 Ti/b. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. — 
 Gentlemen, gond-den; a word with one of you. 
 
 Mer. And but one word %vithoncof us? Couple 
 it with something ; make it a word and a blow. 
 
 Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, 
 if you will give me occasion. 
 
 Ister. Could you not take some occasion without 
 giving ! 
 
 Ti/b. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,— 
 
 Mer. Consort? what, dost thou make us min- 
 strels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear 
 nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's 
 that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort ! 
 
 Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men : 
 Either withdraw into some ])rivate place, 
 Or reason coldly of your grievances, 
 Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. 
 
 6 The lon^ white filameut which flies in the air. 
 
 Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let 
 them gaze; 
 I will not budge tor no man's pleasure, I. 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Ti/b. Well, peace be with you, sir ! liere comes 
 my man. 
 
 Mer. But, I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your 
 livery: 
 Marry, go he'fiire to field, he'll he your follower; 
 Your worship in that sense may call him — man. 
 
 Ti/b. Romeo, the hale 1 bear thee, can allbrd 
 No better term than this — Thou art a villain. 
 
 Rcnn. T> bait, the reason that I have lo love thee 
 Doth much excuse the ajipertaining rage 
 To such a greeting: — Villain am I none ; 
 Therefore, larewell ; I see, thou know'st me not, 
 
 Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries 
 That thou hast done me; therefore turn, .and draw. 
 
 liont. I do protest, I never injur'd thee; 
 But love thee better than thou canst devise. 
 Till thou shalt know the reason of my love : 
 And so, good Capuiet, — which name I tender 
 As dearly as mine own, — lie satisfied. ' 
 
 Bier. O calm, dishonorable, vile submission! 
 A la stoccata^ carries it away. [Draws. 
 
 Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? 
 
 Tub. What wouldst thou have wilh me! 
 
 Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your 
 nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal," and 
 as you shall use me hereaAer. dry-beat the rest of 
 the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of hi.s 
 pilcher^ by the ears'! make liaste, lest mine be 
 about your ears ere it be out. 
 
 Ti/b. I am tor you. {Drawing. 
 
 Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. 
 
 Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [Tkeyjight. 
 
 Rom. Draw. Beiivolio; 
 Beat down their weapons: — Gentlemen, for shame; 
 Forbear this outrage; — Tybalt — Mercutio— 
 The prince expressly hath Ibrbid this bandying 
 In Verona streets :— hold. Tybalt ;— good Mercutio. 
 [Exeunt Tvdalt and his Partisans. 
 
 Mer. I am hurt; — 
 A plague o' buth the houses! — I am sped: — 
 Is he gone, and hath nothing ! 
 
 Ben. What, art thou hurt? 
 
 Mer, Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis 
 enough. — 
 Where is my page ? — go, villain, fetcii a surgeon. 
 
 [E.vit Page. 
 
 Rnm. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. 
 
 Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide 
 as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask 
 for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave 
 man. I am peppered. I warrant, for this world: — 
 A plague o' both your houses! — 'Zounds, a dog, 
 a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to dealli ! 
 
 6 P.'iint, display, i Tm.l^iu.atif.>n. 
 
 8 Ttie Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier, 
 
 9 Case or Gcabbard. 
 
(12 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 a brag:g;irt, a ro^ue- a villain, that figlits by the 
 book of arithmellc! — Why, the devil, came you 
 between us] I was hurt under your urin. 
 
 Rom. I thousibt all lor the best. 
 
 Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, 
 Or I shall faint. — A pla^rue o' both your houses! 
 They have made worm's meat of mc: 
 I have it, and soundly too: — Your houses! 
 
 [Exeunt iMEitcuTio and Benvolio. 
 
 Rom.. This gentleman, the prince'^s near ally, 
 ■My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt 
 In my hehalf; my reputation stain'd 
 With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour 
 Hath been my kinsman: — sweet Juliet, 
 Thy beauty hath made me cReminate, 
 And in my temper sotlen'd valor's steel. 
 Re-enter Benvolio. 
 
 Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mcrcutio^s dead ; 
 That p:allaut spirit hath aspir'd tlic clouds, 
 Wliich too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
 
 Rnm. This day's black fate on more days doth 
 depend ; 
 This but begins the woe, others must end. 
 Re-enter Tvbalt. 
 
 Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. 
 
 Ro7n. Alivf! in triumph ! and Mercutio slain ! 
 Away to Heaven, res]iective' lenity, 
 And tirc-eyed fury be my conduct- now! — 
 Now, Tybalt, take the villain hack again, 
 Tiiat late ihou gav'^st me; for iMcrcutio'ssmil 
 Is but a little way above our heads. 
 Staying for thine to keep him company; 
 Either tliou, or I, or both, must go with him. 
 
 Ti/b. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort^ 
 him here, 
 Slialt with him hence. 
 
 Rom. This shall determine that. 
 
 [They fight; Tybxlt f alia. 
 
 Ben. Romeo, away, be gone I 
 The citizens are up.'and Tybalt slain : 
 Stand not amaz'd : — the prince will doom thee 
 
 death, 
 Ifthou art taken :— hence! — be gone! — away! 
 
 Rom. 0! I am Fortune's fool ! 
 
 Bin. Why dost thou stay 1 [Exit Romeo. 
 
 Enter Citizens, ^-c, 
 
 1 CU. Which wny ran he, that kilTd Mercutio? 
 Tvbalt, that murderer, which way ran he] 
 
 'LV7?. There lies that Tybalt. 
 
 >Cit. ^ Up, sir, go with me; 
 
 I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. 
 
 Enter Px'mcc, at f en'l erl ; IMoNTAfifE, Capl"LET, their 
 Wives, a/7d others. 
 
 Prill. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? 
 
 Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all 
 Tiic unlucky manage of this fatal brawl : 
 There lies the man slain by young Romeo, 
 That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. 
 
 La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! — O my brother^s 
 child"! 
 Unhappy si^ht ! all me, the blood is spill'd 
 Of my dear kinsman ! — Prince, as thou art true,-* 
 For lilood of ours, shed blood of Montague. — 
 O cousin, cousin ! 
 
 Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? 
 
 Ben. Tybalt, iiere slain, whom Romeo's Jiand 
 did slay ; 
 Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink 
 I[t»w nice'' the quarrel was, and urged wiliial 
 Your iiitih displeasure : — All this — uttered 
 With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly 
 
 bow'd,— 
 Conld not take truce with the unruly spleen 
 Of 'I'ybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts 
 ^Vi1h piercing steel at !»old Meicutio's breast; 
 ^Vho. all as hot, turns deadly point to point, 
 And. with a martial scorn, with one hand beats 
 Cold death aside, and with the other sends 
 It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity 
 Retort.'i it : Konieo he erics aloud, 
 Hold, friends ! friends, pari I and, swil^cr than his 
 
 tonirvie. 
 His agile arm beats down their fatal points, 
 And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm 
 An envious tlirust from Tybalt Jiit the lite 
 
 * Considerate. a Conductor. » Accompany. 
 
 * Just aud upriglit. » Slight, uuimportaut. 
 
 Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled : 
 
 But by and by comes back to Romeo, 
 
 Who had but newlj- entertain'd revenge. 
 
 And to't they go like lightning; for, eie I 
 
 Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain ; 
 
 And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and Uy : 
 
 This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. 
 
 La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, 
 Aflection makes him false, he speaks not true : 
 Some twenty of them fought in tiiis black strife, 
 And all those twenty could but kill one life: 
 I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give ; 
 Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not Jive. 
 
 Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; 
 Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe ? 
 
 JSIpn. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's 
 friend ; 
 His fault concludes but what the law should end, 
 The life of Tybalt; 
 
 Prin. And, for that offence, 
 
 Immediately we do exile him hence: 
 1 have an interest in your hates' proceeding, 
 My blood fur your rude brawls doth lie a-bJeeding, 
 But I'll amercot' you with so strong a fine, 
 That you shall all repent the loss of mine. 
 I wilCbe deaf to pleading and excuses; 
 Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses; 
 Therefore use none : let Romeo hence in haste, 
 Else, when hc-s found, that hour is his last. 
 Bear hence Iiis body, and attend our will : 
 Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Room in Capulef s House. 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
 Towards Phcebus' mansion; such a waggoner 
 As Phaeton would whip you to the west. 
 And bring in cloudy night immediately.— 
 Spread thy close curtain, lovc-perlbrniing night ! 
 Tliat run-away 's eyes may wink; and Romeo 
 Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen ! — 
 Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
 By their own beauties: or, if love be blind. 
 It best agrees with night. — Come, civiF night. 
 Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, 
 And learn me how to lose a winning match, 
 Piuy\I for a pair of stainless maidenhoods : 
 Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,^ 
 With tliy black mantle ; till strange love, grown 
 
 bold, 
 Think true love acted, simple modesty. 
 Come, night !— Come, Rouieo! come, thou day in 
 
 night! 
 For Ihou wilt lie upon the wings of night 
 Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. — 
 Come, gentle night ; come, loving, black-brow'd 
 
 night. 
 Give me my Romeo : and when he shall die, 
 Take him and cut him out in little stars, 
 And he will make the face of heaven so fine 
 That all the v;orld will be in love with night, 
 And pay no worship to the garish^ sun. — 
 0, 1 have bought the mansion of a love. 
 But not possessed it; and, though I am sold, 
 Nut yet enjoy'd : So tedious is this day, 
 As is the night belbre some festi\al 
 To an impatient child, that Iiath new robes, 
 And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurso, 
 
 Enter Nurse, with Cords. 
 And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks 
 But Romco'S name, speaks heavenly eloquence. — 
 Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there, 
 
 the cords. 
 That Romeo bade thee fetch ? 
 
 JSurse. Ay, ay, the cords. 
 
 [ Tlirows them down. 
 
 Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring 
 thy hands? 
 
 Nuj'se. Ah well-a-day!—he''s dead, he's dead, he's 
 dead ! 
 We are undone, lady, we are undone ! — 
 Aliick the day ! — he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead ! 
 
 Jul, Can heaven be so envious? 
 
 Nurse. Ronleo can, 
 
 Though heaven cannot: — Romeo! Romeo! 
 Who ever would have thought it? — Romeo ! 
 
 6 I'nnish by fine. ' Grave, solemn. 
 
 8 Tlictt.' are terms of falconry. • Gaudy, shony. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 713 
 
 Jul. What devil art tliou, that dost torment mc 
 thus! 
 This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. 
 Hath Romeo slain himsclfl say thou but/,' 
 And that bare vowel /shall poison more 
 Than tlie death-darting ej'e of cockatrice : 
 1 am not I, if there be such an I: 
 Or those eyes bhut, that makes thee answer, /. 
 If he be slain, say — /,- or iftiot, no : 
 Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. 
 
 I^^urse. I saw the wound. I saw it with mine eyes, — 
 God save the mark ! — here, on his manly breast ; 
 A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse ; 
 Pale, pale as ashes, all bedauhM in blood. 
 All in sore blood ; I swoondcd at the sight. 
 
 Jut. break, my heart! — poor bankrupt, brFak 
 at once ! 
 To prison, e3'es ! ne'er look on liberty ! 
 Vile eartii, to earth resi;j:n ; end motion here ; 
 And tJiou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier ! 
 
 Nurse. Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had ! 
 O courteous Tybalt ! honest gentleman ! 
 That ever I should live to see thee dead ! 
 
 Jut. What storm is this, that blows so contrary 1 
 Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt deadl 
 My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord I — 
 Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom ! 
 For who is living, if those two are gone ! 
 
 Nurge. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; 
 Romeo, tliat kill'd him, ho is banished. 
 
 Jut. God !— did Romeo's hand siied Tybalt's 
 blood! 
 
 Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day ! it did. 
 
 Jul. 0, serpent heart, hid with a llow'ring face ! 
 Did ever drai^on keej) so fiiir a cave ' 
 Beautiful tyrant! liend angelical! 
 Bove-Ieather'd raven! woltish ravening lamb ! 
 Despised substance of diviaest show ! 
 Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, 
 A damned saint, an honorable villain ! — 
 O. nature ! w/iat hadst thou to do in liell. 
 When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend 
 Ir. mor'al paradise of such sweet flesh ! 
 Was ever book, containing such vile matter. 
 So fairly bound ! 0, that deceit .should dwell 
 In such a gorgeous palace ! 
 
 Nurse. There's no trust, 
 
 No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd. 
 All Ibrsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. — 
 Ah, Where's my manl give mc some aqua vitse: — 
 These griefs, these woes, these sorrows, make me 
 
 old. 
 Shame come to Romeo! 
 
 Jul. _ Blister'd be thy tongue, 
 
 For r.iu'h a wish! he was not born to shame: 
 Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; 
 For 'tis a throne where honor may be crown'd 
 Sole monarch of the universal earth. 
 O, what a beast was I to chide at him ! 
 
 Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd 
 your cousin I 
 
 Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husbandl 
 Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy 
 
 name. 
 When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it ? — 
 But, wherelbre, villain, didst thou kill my cousin ! 
 That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband : 
 Back, foolish tears, hack to your native spring; 
 Your tributary drops bjlong to woe, 
 ■Which you, mistaking, oiler up to joy. 
 My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain ; 
 And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my hus- 
 band ; 
 All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I theni 
 Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death 
 That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; 
 But, ! it presses to my memory, 
 Lilvc damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 
 Ti/hull is itcad. and Uumeo—banislied, 
 That. — banished, that one word, — banislied. 
 Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death 
 Was woe enough, if it had ended there: 
 Or,— if sour woe delights in fellowship. 
 And needly will be rank'd with olher griefs,^ 
 Why foUow'd not, when she said— Tybalt's dead, 
 Thy lather, or thy mother, naj, or both, 
 
 * In Sbakspeare's time the alHrui.itive particle ai/ w.as 
 usually wiitteu /, auil hei-e it is necfss.ar}' to retaiu the 
 oiil spelling. 
 
 Which modern^ lamentation might have mov'd'! 
 But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, 
 liumeu is ban'islied.—yo speak that word, 
 Is father; mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, 
 All slain, all dead ; — Uanieo is banUtied, — 
 There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, 
 In that word's death; no words can thatwoe sound. — 
 Where is my father, and my mother, nurse 1 
 
 Nurse. Weepingand wailing over Tybalt's corse ; 
 Will you go to them ! I will bring you thither. 
 
 Jut. Wash they his %vounds with tears ! mine 
 shall be spent. 
 When theirs arc dry, for Rorneo's banishment. 
 Take up those cords : — Poor ropes, you are heguil'd, 
 Both you and I ; for Romeo is exii'd : 
 He made you for a highway to my bed ; 
 But I, a maid, die muiden-widowed. 
 Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed: 
 And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! 
 
 Nurse. Hie to your chamber': I'll find Romeo 
 To comfort you : — I wot^ well where he is. 
 Hark ye. your Romeo will be here at night; 
 I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. 
 
 Jul. O find him ! give this ring to my true knight, 
 And bid him come to take his last farewell. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Friar Laurence's Cell. 
 
 Enter Fri.\r Laurence and Romeo. 
 
 Fri, Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fear- 
 ful man; 
 Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts. 
 And thou art wedded to calamity. 
 
 Honi. Father, what news! what is the prince's 
 doom ! 
 What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand. 
 That I yet know not! 
 
 Fri. Too familiar 
 
 Is my dear son with such sour company: 
 I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. 
 
 Hum. What less than dooms-day is the prince's 
 doom ! 
 
 Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, 
 Not body's death, but body's banishment. 
 
 Ru7n.Ua.'. banishment ! be merciful, say — death: 
 For exile hath more terror in his look. 
 Much more than death : do not say — banishment. 
 
 Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished: 
 Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. 
 
 Rum. There is no world without Verona walls. 
 But purgatory, torture, hell itself, 
 llence-lianished is banish'd from the world, 
 And world's exile is death :— then banishment. 
 Is death mis-tcrm'd: calling death — banishment, 
 Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe, 
 And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me. 
 
 Fri. O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness ! 
 Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind prince, 
 Tai'iing thy jnirt, hath rush'd aside the law. 
 And turn'd that black word death to banishment: 
 This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. 
 
 Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy; heaven is here, 
 Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, 
 ,A.nd little mouse, every unworthy thing. 
 Live here in heaven, and may look on her. 
 But Romeo may not.— More validity,-' 
 More honorable state, more courtship, lives 
 In carrion (lies, than Romeo : they may seize 
 On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, 
 And steal immortal blessing from her lips; 
 Who, even in pure and vestal modesty. 
 Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; 
 But Romeo may not; lie is banished; 
 Flies may do this, when I from this must fly; 
 They are free men. but I am banished. 
 And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death ? 
 Hadst thou no poison mix'd,no sharp-ground knife, 
 No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, 
 Jiut, — banished — to kill me; banished! 
 friar, the dajnned use that word in hell ; 
 Howlings attend it: How hast thou the heart. 
 Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
 A sin-absoJver, aiul my "friend profess'd. 
 To mangle me with that word — banishmenf! 
 
 Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a 
 
 word. 
 Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. 
 
 • Common. 
 
 a Know. 
 
 * "Worth, value. 
 
ri4 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Fri. I'll give thee armor to keep off that word: 
 Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, 
 To comfort thee. thouc;h tliou art banished. 
 
 Rom. Yet banished !— Hang up philosophy ! 
 Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, 
 Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, 
 It helps not, it prevails not, — talk no niore. 
 Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. 
 liom. How should they, wlien that wise men ' 
 
 have no eyes 1 
 Fi'i. Let me dispute witli thee of thy estate. 
 Ro/n. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost 
 not feel : 
 Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, 
 An hour hut married, Tybalt murdered, 
 Doling like me, and like me banished, 
 Thenmightst thou speak, then miglilst thou tear 
 
 thy hair, 
 And fall upon the ground as I do now, 
 Taldng the measure of an unmade grave. 
 FrL Arise ; one knocks ; good Romeo, hide tJiy- 
 self. [Knucking within. 
 
 Rom* Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick 
 groans, 
 Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes, 
 
 [Knocking. 
 Fri. Hark, how they knock ! — Who s there 1 — 
 Romeo, arise : 
 Thou wilt be taken: — Stay a while:— stand up; 
 
 [Knocking. 
 Run to my study : — By and by : — God's will ! 
 What wiUulness is this"? — I come, 1 come. 
 
 [Knocking. 
 Who Icnocks so hard 1 Whence come you .' what s 
 your will 1 
 Nurse. [tVithi?}.] Let me come Lii, and you shall 
 know my errand ; 
 I come from Lady Juliet. 
 Fri. Welcome then. 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Nurse. holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, 
 Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo ! 
 
 Fri. There on the ground, with his own tears 
 made drunk. 
 
 Nurse. 0, he is even in my mistress' case, 
 Just in her case! 
 
 Fi^i. woeful sympathy! 
 
 Piteous predicament. 
 
 Nurse. Even so lies she, 
 
 Blubbering and weeping, weepmg and blubber- 
 ing : — 
 Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man: 
 For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; 
 Why should you fall into so deep an 1 
 
 Ri)7n. Nurse ! 
 
 Nurse. Ah sir ! ah sir ! — Well, death's the end 
 of all. 
 
 Rom. Spak'stthou of Juliet? how is it with her? 
 Does not she think me an old murderer. 
 Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy 
 With blood remov'd but little from lier own? 
 Where is she ? and how doth she ? and what says 
 My conccal'd lady to our cancell'd love ? 
 
 Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and 
 weeps; 
 And now falls on her bed ; and then starls up, 
 And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, 
 And then down falls again. 
 
 Rom. As if that name. 
 
 Shot from the deadly level of a gun. 
 Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand 
 Murder'd Jicr kinsman.— tell me, friar, tell me. 
 In what vile part of tliis anatomy 
 Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack 
 Thf baleful mansion. [Dniiviu^ hi.s Su-ord. 
 
 Fri. Hold thy despeiale hand: 
 
 Art thou a man? thy form cries out, tliou art; 
 Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote 
 Ttie unreasonable fury of a beast. 
 Unseemly woman, in a seeming maij! 
 Or ill-beseeming beast, in seeming both ! 
 Thiiu hast ainaz'd me : by my holy order, 
 I tliought thy dispositionbetter temper'd. 
 Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? 
 And slay thy lady too that lives in thee, 
 By doing damned hate upon thyselJ? 
 Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth ? 
 Since birth, and heaven, and earlh, all three do meet 
 In thee at once ; which thou at once wouldst lose. 
 
 Fye, fye! thou sham 'st thy shape, thy love, ihy wit; 
 Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all. 
 And usest none in that true use indeed 
 Which should bedeck thy shajje, thy love, thy wit. 
 Thy noble shape is but a Ibrin of wax. 
 Digressing from the valor of a man : 
 Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury, 
 Killing that love which thou hast vow d to cherish: 
 Thy wit, that ornaraefJt to shape and love, 
 Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both, 
 Like powder in a skill-less soldier's Ilask, 
 Is set on lire by thine own ignorance. 
 And thou dismember'd with thine own defence 
 What, rouse thee, man ! thy Juliet is alive, 
 For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead , 
 There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, 
 But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too: 
 The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend, 
 And turns it to exile; there art thou hapi)y : 
 A pack of blessings lights upon thy back; 
 Happiness courts thee in her best array; 
 But, like a mis-behav'd and sullen wench. 
 Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: 
 Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. 
 Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, 
 Ascend her chamber, hence, and comfort her; 
 But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set, 
 For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; 
 Where thou shait live, till we can hnd a lin^ 
 To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, 
 Beg pardon of the prince, and call liiee back 
 With twenty hundred thousand times more joy 
 Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.— 
 Go belore, nurse: commend me to tliy lady; 
 And bid her hasten all the house to bed. 
 Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: 
 Romeo is coming. 
 
 Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all the 
 night. 
 To hear good counsel : O, what learning is I — 
 My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. 
 
 Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prejinre to chide. 
 
 Nurse. Here, sir, a ring siie bid me give you, sir: 
 Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [Exit. 
 
 Rum. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this ! 
 
 Fri. Go hence: good-night: and here stands all 
 your state ;^ 
 Either be gone belbre the watch be set. 
 Or by the break of day dJsguis'd from hence: 
 Sojourn in Mantua ; TU hnd out your man, 
 And he shall signify from time to tune 
 Every good hap to you, that chances here : 
 Give me thy hand; 'tis late: larewell; good-nighL 
 
 Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me. 
 It were a grief, so brief to part with thee : 
 Farewell. [Exeu7it, 
 
 SCENE IV.— ^ Room in Capulet's House. 
 Enter Capclet, Lady Capulet, and Paris. 
 
 Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily. 
 That we have had no time to move our daughter. 
 Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, 
 And so did I ;— Well, we were born to die.— 
 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-niglil: 
 I promise you, but for your company, 
 I would have been a-bed an hour ago. 
 
 Par. Tliese times of woe atfoid no time to woo . 
 Madam, good-night: commend me to your daughter. 
 
 La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to- 
 morrow ; 
 To-night she's mew'd^ up to her heaviness. 
 
 Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate' tender 
 Of my child's love: I think, she will be rul'd 
 In ail respects by me; nay more, I doubt it nut. 
 Wile, go you to her ere you go to bed ; 
 Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; 
 And bid Jier, mark you me, on Wednesday next— • 
 But solt : what day is this ? 
 
 Par. Monday, my lord. 
 
 Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is too 
 soon ; 
 0* Thursday let it be ;— o' Thursday, tell her. 
 She shall be married to this noble (-arl ; — 
 Will you be ready I do you like this haste ? 
 We'll keep no great ado ; — a friend, or two: 
 For, iiark you, Tybalt being slain so late, 
 
 » Tho whole of your tbrtune Ueponds on this. 
 6 Shut up. f Bold. 
 
Scene V. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 715 
 
 It may be thought we held him carelessly, 
 Bcin^ our kinsman, if we revel much: 
 Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, 
 And there an end. 13ut what say you to Thursday 1 
 Par. .My lord, I would that Thursday were to- 
 morrow. 
 Cap. Well, get you gone:— 0' Thursday be it 
 then:— 
 Go you to Juliet ere you go t1> bed. 
 Prepare her. wife, agai:ist this wedding-day. — 
 Farewell, my lord.— Light to my chamber, ho! 
 Alijie me, it is so very late, that we 
 May call it early by and by :— Good-night. {Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Juliet's Chamber. 
 Enter Romeo and Jcliet. 
 
 /!/.'. Wilt thou be gone 1 it is not yet near day : 
 Jt was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
 That pierced the tearful hollow of thine ear; 
 Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : 
 Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 
 
 Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, 
 No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks 
 Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 
 Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; 
 I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 
 
 Jui. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: 
 It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
 To be to thee this night a torch-bearer. 
 And light thee on thy way to Mantua: 
 Therelbre stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. 
 
 Rum. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; 
 I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
 I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, 
 'Tis but llic pale rcllcx of Cynthia's brow I* 
 Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
 The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: 
 I have more carc^ to stay, than will to go ; — 
 Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. — 
 How js't, my soul ] let's talk, it is not day, 
 
 Jul. It is, it is. hie hence, be gone, away; 
 It is the lark that sings so out of tune, 
 Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps. 
 .Some say, the lark makes sweet division ;' 
 This doth not so, for she dividcth us : 
 Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes: 
 O, now I would they liad changed voices too; 
 Since arm from arm that voice doth us atfray, 
 Hunting thee hence with hunts-up'^ to the day. 
 0. now be gone ; more light and light it grows. 
 
 Rom. More light and light ! — more dark and 
 dark our woes. 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Nurse. Madam ! 
 
 Jul. Nurse i 
 
 Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your 
 chamber : 
 The day is broke ; be warJ^ look about. \_ExU. 
 
 Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. 
 
 Rum. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll de- 
 scend. [ Romeo descends. 
 
 Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my 
 friend ! 
 I must hear Irom thee every day i' the hour, 
 For in a minute there are many daj's: 
 O ! by this count 1 shall be much in years, 
 Kre i again behold my Romeo. 
 
 Rom. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity 
 That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. 
 
 Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again? 
 
 Rum. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall 
 serve 
 For sweet discourses in our time to come. 
 
 Jul. God ! 1 have an ill-divining soul : 
 Mcthinks, I see thee, now thou art below. 
 As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: 
 Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. 
 
 Rum. And trust me, love, in mine eye so do you: 
 Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu ! 
 
 [ExU Romeo. 
 
 Jul. fortune! fortune! all men call thee hckle: 
 If thou art tickle, what dost thou with him 
 
 * Keflection of tbemooD. » Inclination. 
 
 * Division was the technical phrase for mutical compo- 
 eition. 
 
 * A tune played to wake hunters; also a morniDg song 
 to & woman the day after marriage. 
 
 That is renown'd for faith? Be tickle, fortune: 
 For then. I hope, thou wilt not keep him long. 
 But send him back. 
 
 La. Cap. [H'itliin.] Ho, daughter! are you up? 
 
 Jut. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother? 
 Is she not down so late, or up so early? 
 What unaccustom'd cause procures^ her hither ? 
 
 Enter Lady Capixet. 
 La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ? 
 Jul. Madam, I am not well. 
 
 La. Cap. Evermore weeping lor your cousin's 
 death ! 
 What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with 
 
 tears ! 
 An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; 
 Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of 
 
 love ; 
 But much of grief shows still some want of wit. 
 Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. 
 La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the 
 Iriend, 
 Which you weep for. 
 
 Jul. Feeling so the loss, 
 
 I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. 
 La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much 
 lor his death. 
 As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. 
 Jul. What villain, madam ? 
 La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo. 
 
 Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder. 
 God pardon him! 1 do, with all my heart; 
 And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart. 
 La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer 
 
 lives. 
 Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my 
 hands, 
 'Would, none but I might 'venge my cousin's death ! 
 La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear 
 tliou not: 
 Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Jlan- 
 
 tua, — 
 Where that same banisli'd runagate doth live, — ■ 
 That shall bestow on him so sure a draught. 
 That he shall soon keep Tybalt company ; 
 And then. 1 hope, thou wilt be satislied. 
 Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied 
 With Romeo, till I behold hiin — dead — 
 Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd: — 
 Madam, if you could find out but a man 
 To bear a poison, I would temper it; 
 Tiiat Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, 
 Soon sleep in quiet. — I), how my heart abhors 
 To hear him named, — and cannot come to him, — 
 To wreak the love 1 bore tny cousin Tybalt 
 Upon his body that hath slaugliter'd him ! 
 La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such 
 a man. 
 But now, I'll tell thee joyful tidings, g:.-l. 
 Jul. And joy comes well in such d needful 
 It me: 
 What are they, I beseech your ladyship? 
 La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, 
 child; 
 One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness. 
 Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy. 
 That thou expecl'st not, nor I look d not for. 
 Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that? 
 La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday 
 morn, 
 That gallant, young, and noble gentleman. 
 The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church. 
 Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride 
 Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter 
 too. 
 He shall not make me there a joyful bride. 
 I wonder at this haste: that I must wed 
 Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. 
 1 pray you, tell my lord and fatlier, madam, 
 I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear. 
 It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate. 
 Rather than Paris :— These are news indeed ! 
 La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so 
 yourself. 
 And see how he will take it at your bands. 
 
 Enter Capclet and Nurse. 
 Cap. When the sun sets, the air dot h drizzle dew ; 
 But tor the sunset of my brother's sun, 
 
 ■ Brings. 
 
716 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 It rains downriglit.— 
 
 How now ! a conduit, girl 1 what, still in tears ] 
 Ever more sliowering: in one little body 
 TIiou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind : 
 For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea. 
 Do ebb and flow with tears ; the bark thy body is, 
 Sailnig in this salt flood ; tlie winds, thy eiglis; 
 Who,— raging with tliy tears, and they with them,— 
 Witliout a sudden calm, will overset 
 Thy tempest-tossed body. — How now, wife 1 
 Have you deliver'd to her our decree 1 
 La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives 
 you tlianks. 
 I would, the tool were married to her grave ! 
 Cup. .Soil, take me witii you, take me with you, 
 wiii3. 
 How^ will she none'! doth she not give us thanks? 
 Is she not proud ? doth she not count her bless'd. 
 Unworthy as she is, tliat we have wrought 
 So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom ? 
 Jut. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you 
 have ; 
 Proud can 1 never be of what I hate; 
 But tliankful even tor hate, that is meant love. 
 Cap. How now! how now, chop-logic! What 
 is this ! 
 Proud,— and, I thank jou,— and.I thank younot;— 
 And yet not proud; — Mistress minion, you, 
 Tliank me no tliaiikiiigs, nor proud me no prouds. 
 But settle your fine joiiits 'gainst Thursday next, 
 To go with Paris to St. Peter's church, 
 Or I will drag thee on a hurdle tiiither. 
 Out, you green-siclaiess carrion ! out, you baggage ! 
 You tallow-face ! 
 La. Cap. Fye. fye, wliat, are you mad 1 
 
 Jul. Good father, 1 beseech you on my knees. 
 Hear me witli patience but to speak a word. 
 Cap. Hang tliee, young baggage! disobedient- 
 wretch I 
 I tell thee what,— get tliec to cliurch o' Thursday, 
 Or never after look mo in the face : 
 Speak not, reply not, do not answer me : 
 ^Iy lingers itch. — Wilis, we scarce thought us 
 
 bless'd. 
 That God had sent us but this only child: 
 But now I see this one is one too much. 
 And that we have a curse in htN'ing her : 
 Out on her, hilding !^ 
 
 Nurse. God in heaven bless her !— 
 
 You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. 
 Cap. And why, my lady wisdom ? hold your 
 tongue. 
 Good iJrudence ; smaller with your gossips, go. 
 Nurse. I speak no treason. 
 
 Cap. 0, God ye good-den 1 
 
 Nurse. May not one speak ? 
 Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool ! 
 
 Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, 
 For Iierc we need it not. 
 La. Cap. You are too hot. 
 
 Cup. tiod's bread! it makes me mad: Day, 
 night, late, early, 
 At home, abroad, alone, in company. 
 Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been 
 To have her matched : and having now provided 
 A gentleman of princely parenlage. 
 Of tair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, 
 StufT'd (as they say) with honorable parts, 
 
 Proportmn'd as one's heart could wisli a man,— 
 And then to have a wretched puling fool, 
 A whining mammet, in her tbrtune's tender. 
 To answer— i'Zi not wed,— I cannot love, 
 I am too young,— I pray you, parihin me ;— 
 But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you : 
 Graze where you will, you shall not house with me : 
 Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. 
 Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advi'se : 
 An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; 
 An you be not. hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets, 
 For, by ray soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, 
 Nor what is mine shall never do thee good : 
 Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be Ibrsvvorn. [Eiit 
 
 Jul. Is there no jiity sitting in the clouds, 
 That sees into the bottom of my grief! 
 O, sweet my molhcr, cast me not away ! 
 Delay this marriage, lor a month, a week: 
 Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 
 In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. 
 La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a 
 word : 
 Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit 
 Jul. O God!— nurse! how shall this be pro. 
 vented 1 
 My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven ; 
 How shall that faith return again to earth. 
 Unless that liusband send it me from heaven 
 By leaving earth !— Conitbrt me, counsel me.— 
 Alack, alacli, that heaven should practise stratagems 
 Upon so soft a subject as mj'seif ! — 
 What say'st tliou ! hast thou not a word of joy 7 
 Some comfort, nurse. 
 
 ■^'"'•■5''. Faith, here 'tis: Romeo 
 
 Is banish'd ; and all the world to nothing, 
 Tliat he dares ne'er come back to challenge you 
 Or. if he do, it needs must he by stealth. 
 Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, 
 I think it best you married with the counlv. 
 O, he's a lovely gentleman ! 
 Romeo's a dishclout to him ; an eagle, madam, 
 Halh not so green, so quick, so fair an eye. 
 As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, 
 I think you are happy in this second match, 
 For it excels your lirst : or if it did not. 
 Your first is dead ; or 'twere as good he were. 
 As living here and you no use of him. 
 Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart? 
 Nurse. From my soul too, 
 
 Or else beshrew them both. 
 Jal. Amen ! 
 
 Nurse. To what ? 
 
 Jut. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous 
 much. 
 Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone. 
 Having displeas'd my lather, to Laurence' cell, 
 To make confession, and to be absolv'd. 
 Nurse. Marry, I will ; and this is wisely done. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Jul Ancient damnation ! O most wicked fiend! 
 Is it more sin— to wish me thus forsworn. 
 Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue 
 Which she hath prais'd him with above compare 
 So many thousand times ? Go, counsellor; 
 Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. — 
 I'll to the friar, to know his remedy ; 
 If all else fail, myself have power to die. 
 
 [E.tit 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENF. I.— Friar Laurence's Cell. 
 
 Enter Friar LAtRExcE and Paris. 
 
 Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. 
 
 Par. My father Capulet will have it so ; 
 
 And I am nothing slow, to slack his h.asle. 
 
 Fri. You say you do not know the lady's mind ; 
 Uni'ven is the course; I like it not. 
 
 J-'or. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death. 
 And therefore have I little talk'd of love. 
 For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. 
 Now, sir, her lather counts it dangerous, 
 That she doth give her sorrow so much sway ; 
 And, in liis wisdom, hastes our marriage, 
 * l!ase woman. 
 
 To stop the inundation of her tcii-s ; 
 Which, too much minded by herself alone, 
 May be put from her by society: 
 Now do yon know the reason o"f ibis haste. 
 />!. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. 
 
 [A.iide. 
 Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 Pur. Happily met, my lady, and my wife! 
 Jul. That may be, sir, wlien I may be a wife. 
 Far. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday 
 
 next. 
 Jul. Wliat must be shall be. 
 Fri. That's a certain ton. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ri7 
 
 Par. Come vou to make confession to tliis father ! 
 Jut. To ans'wer that, were to confess to you. 
 Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me. 
 Jul. I will confess to you, that 1 love him. 
 Far. So will you. I am sure, that you love me. 
 Jul. If [ do so, it will be of more price, 
 Beins spoke behind your back, than to your face. 
 Pur. Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. 
 Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; 
 For it was bad enough before their spite. 
 Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with 
 
 that report. 
 Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth ; 
 And what I spake, I spake it to my face. 
 Par. Thy face isminc.and thou hast slander'd it. 
 Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.— 
 Are vou at leisure, holy father, now ; 
 Or shall I co]nc to you at evenins; mass ! 
 Fri. My leisure serves nie, pensive daughter, 
 now : — 
 Mv lord, we must entreat the time alone. 
 
 Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion! 
 Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you; 
 Till then, adieu ! and keep this holy kiss. 
 
 [Exil Paris. 
 
 Jul. 0, shut the door ! and when thou hast done so. 
 
 Come weep with me: Past hope, past cure, past help! 
 
 Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; 
 It strains me past the compass of my wits; 
 I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it, 
 On Thursday next, be married to this county. 
 
 Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hcar'st of this, 
 Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it : 
 If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, 
 Do thou but call my resolution wise, 
 • And with this knife I'll help it presently. 
 God ioin'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; 
 And'ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, 
 Shall be the label to another deed. 
 Or mv true heart with treacherous revolt 
 Turn" to another, this shall slay them both : 
 Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, 
 Give me some present counsel ; or, behold, 
 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife 
 Shall play the umpire;'^ arbitrating tha't 
 Which the commissions of thy years and art 
 Could to no issue of true honor bring. 
 Be not so long to sjieuk ; 1 long to die, 
 If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. 
 
 Fri. Hold, daughter; I <lo spy a kind of hope. 
 Which craves as desperate an execution 
 As that is desperate which we would prevent. 
 If, rather than to marry county Pans, 
 Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself. 
 Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake 
 A thing like death to chide away this shame. 
 That cop'st with death himself to scape tirom it; 
 And, if thoudar'st, I'll give thee remedy. 
 
 Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, 
 From olTthe battlements of yonder tower; 
 Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk 
 Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears. 
 Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, 
 O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling hones, 
 With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; 
 Or bid me "go into a new-made grave, 
 And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ; 
 Things that, to hear them told, have made me 
 
 tremble ; 
 And I will do it without fear or doubt, 
 TiJ live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. 
 
 Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent 
 To marry Paris : Wednesday is to-morrow ; 
 To-morrow night look that thou lie alone. 
 Let not thy mirse lie with thee in thy chamber: 
 Take thou this phial, being then in bed. 
 And this distilled liquor drink thou off: 
 When, presently, through all thy veins shall run 
 A cold and drowsy humor, which shall seize 
 Each vital spirit ; for no pulse shall keep 
 His natural progress, but surcease to beat: 
 No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st; 
 The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade 
 To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall. 
 Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; 
 Each part, depriv'd of supple government, 
 Shall stilT, and stark, and cold, appear like death: 
 And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death 
 • Becide tbe struggle between me aud ray distresses. 
 « Authority or power. 
 
 Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours. 
 
 And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. 
 
 Now when the bridegroom in the morning conies 
 
 To rou.se thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: 
 
 Then, (as the manner of our country is,) 
 
 In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier. 
 
 Thou shalt he borne to that same ancient vault. 
 
 Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. 
 
 In the mean tiint% against thou shalt awake, 
 
 Shall' Romeo by my letters know our drift: 
 
 And hither shall he come; and he and I 
 
 Will %vatch thy waking, and that very night 
 
 Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. 
 
 And this shall free thee from this present shame; 
 
 If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear. 
 
 Abate thy valor in the acting it. 
 
 Jul. Gi"ve me. give me ! tell me not of fear. 
 
 Fri. Hold ; get vou gone, he strong and prosperous 
 In this resolve : I'll send a friar with speed 
 To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. 
 
 Jut. Love, give me strength ! and strength shall 
 help allbrd. 
 Farewell, dear hither. [E.reu7it. 
 
 SCENE II.— -4 Room in Capulet's House. 
 Enter Capl'let, Laiiy Capclet, Nurse, and 
 
 Servants. 
 Cai>. So many guests invite as here are writ. — 
 ' [Exit Servant. 
 
 Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 
 
 2 Sen: You shall have none ill, sir; lor I'll try 
 if they can lick their lingers. 
 
 Cap. How canst thou try them so? 
 2 .Sen'. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot 
 lick his own fingers : therefore lie, that cannot lick 
 Ills fingers, goes not with uie. 
 
 Caj). Go, begone.— [Exit Servants. 
 
 We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. 
 What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence 1 
 Nurse. Ay, forsooth. 
 
 Co;t>. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: 
 A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. 
 Enter Juliet. 
 Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift with 
 
 merry look. 
 Cap. How now. my headstrong? where have j-ou 
 
 been gadding ! 
 Jul. Where I have leanit rac to repent the sin 
 Of disobedient opposition 
 To vou, and your behests;' and am eiijoiii'd 
 By holy Laurence to liiU prostrate here. 
 And beg your pardon:— Pardon, I beseech you! 
 llenceforward I am ever ruled by you. 
 
 Cap. Send for the county: go tell him of this; 
 I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. 
 
 Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; 
 And gave him what bcconied* love I might. 
 Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. 
 
 Cap. Why, 1 am glad on't; this is well,— stand 
 up: 
 This is as't should be.— Let me see the county: 
 Ay. marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.— 
 Now, atbre God, this reverend holy friar. 
 All our whole city is much bound to him. 
 
 Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet. 
 To help me sort such needful ornaments 
 As you think fit to tiirnish me to morrow ! 
 i'a. Cap. No, not till Thursday ; there is time 
 
 enough. 
 Cap. Go, nurse, go with her:— we'll to church 
 to-morrow. [Exeuiii Juliet and Nurse. 
 La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision) 
 'Tis now near night. 
 
 Cap. Tush ! I will stir about, 
 
 And all things shall be well, I warr.ant thee, wife: 
 Go tlion to Juliet, help to deck up her; 
 I'll not to bed to-night ;— let me alone; 
 I'll play the housewife, for this once.— What, ho ! 
 They a"re all forth : Well, 1 will walk myself 
 To county Paris, to prepare him up 
 Against lb-morrow : my heart is wondrous light. 
 Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— Juliet's Clwmher. 
 Enter Juliet atid Nurse. 
 Jut. Ay, those attires are best:- But, gentli? 
 nurse, 
 1 Commands. * Becoming. 
 
718 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act IV. Scene V. 
 
 I pray thop, Irave me tn myself to-night; 
 For 1 have need of many orisons^ 
 To move the iicavcris lo smile upon mv state, 
 Whicli, wcil tliou laiow'st, is cross, and full of sin. 
 Enter Lady Capdlet. 
 
 La. Cap. What, are you busyl do you need 
 help? 
 
 Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such neces- 
 saries 
 As are behoveftil for our state to-morrow: 
 So please you, let me now be left alone, 
 And let the nurse this night sit up with yon ; 
 For, I am sure, yon have your hands full all. 
 In this so sudden business. 
 
 La. Cup. Good-nisht! 
 
 Get thee to bed, and rest ; for thou hast need. 
 
 [Hreurif Lauy Capvlet ami Nurse. 
 
 Jul. Farewell !— God Icnows when we shall meet 
 again. 
 I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins. 
 That almost freezes up tlie heat of life: 
 I'll call them back again to comfort me;— 
 Nurse ! — What should she do here ? 
 My dismal scene I needs must act alone, — 
 Come, piiial. — 
 
 What if this mixture do rot work at all? 
 ]\l!:st 1 of tbrcc be married to the county?^ 
 No, no; — This shall tbrbid it:— lie thou'there. — 
 
 [Layinp: down a Dagger. 
 Wliaf if it be a poison, which the fiiar 
 Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead ; 
 Lest ill this marriage he should be dishonor'd, 
 Because he married nie before to Romeo ? 
 I fear it is : and yet, methinks, it should not; 
 For he hath still been tried a holy man: 
 I will not entertain so bad a thought. — ■ 
 How, if, when I am laid into the tomb, 
 I wake belbre the time that Romeo 
 Come to retlcem me? there's a fearful point! 
 Shall I not tiien be stifled in the vault. 
 To whose Ibul month no healthsome air breathes in, 
 And there die strangled ere my Komeo comes? 
 (~)r, if 1 live, is it not very like. 
 The horrible conceit of death and nighl, 
 Togetlier with the terror of the place, — 
 As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, 
 Wliere, for these many hundred years, the bones 
 Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd ; 
 Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth. 
 Lies fesl'ring in his shroud ; where, as they say. 
 At some hours in the night, spirits resort; — 
 Alack, ,iiack ! is it not like, that J. 
 So early waking, — what with loathsome smells, 
 And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of tlic earth. 
 That living mortals, hearing them, run mad ;' — 
 O! if I wake, .shall I not be distraught,^ 
 Environed with all these hideous fears? 
 And madly play wilh my (brefathers' joint,s? 
 And pluck the inangled Tybalt from liis shroud? 
 And. in Ibis rage, with some great kinsman's bone. 
 As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? 
 O, look! melhinks, I pee my cousin's ghost 
 Seeking out Romeo, that d"id spit his body 
 Upon a rajiicr'a point :— Stay, Tybalt, stay !— 
 Romeo, 1 come! this do I drink'to thee. 
 
 [ She throws herself on the Beil. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Capulet's JfaH. 
 
 Enter Lady Capl'let anrf Nurse. 
 
 X«. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more 
 
 spices, nurse. 
 Nurse. Tlicy call for dates, and quinces in the 
 pastry.-'^ 
 
 Enter Capolet. 
 Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir ! the second cock hath 
 crow'd. 
 The curlbu-bell hath rung, tis three o'clock: — 
 Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica: 
 Spare not lor cost. 
 
 Nurse. Go, go, you cot-quean, go. 
 
 Get you to bed ; faitli, you'll be sick to-morrow 
 For this night's watching. 
 Pr.iyers. 
 
 ^ Till-' ("ftliulous accnunts of the pK-int called mamJral-c 
 
 give it n decree of jiniiiuil lifi?. and pay that, when it is 
 
 t,:ru from the ground, it gro.ins, which is fatal to him 
 
 that iniUs it np. 
 
 » Distmrted, " The room where pies were made. 
 
 Cap. No, not a wliit : What ! I have watch'd ere 
 now 
 All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. 
 La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in 
 your time; 
 But I will watch you from such watching now. 
 
 [Exeunt Lady Capvlet anil Nurse. 
 Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-liood! — Now, 
 fellow. 
 What's there ? 
 Enter Servants, wilh Spits, Logs, and Baskets. 
 
 1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir ; but I know not 
 
 what. 
 Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Scrv.j— 
 Sirrah, fetch drier logs ; 
 Call Peter, he will show thee where they arc. 
 
 2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs. 
 And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit. 
 
 Cap. 'Mass, and well said: A merry whoreson ! 
 ha. 
 Thou .shalt be logger-head.— Good faith, 'tis day: 
 The county will be here with music straight. 
 
 [Music within. 
 For so he said he would. I hear him near: — 
 Nurse !— Wife !— what, ho !— what, nurse, 1 say ! 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up ; 
 I'll go and chat with Paris:— Hie. make haste, 
 Make haste ! the bridegroom he is come already : 
 Make haste, I say. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— Juliet's Chamber; Juliet on the Bed 
 Enter Nurse. 
 Nurse. Mistress ! — what, mistress !— Juliet !— tasl,' 
 
 I warrant her, she: — 
 Why, lamb ! — why, lady ! — fye, you slug-a- 
 bed ! — 
 Why, love, I say ! — madam ! — sweetlieart ! — why, 
 
 bride ! — 
 What, not a word?— you take your pennyworths 
 
 now; 
 Sleep for a week: for the next night, I warrant, 
 The county Paris hath set up his rest, 
 Tiiat you shall rest but little, — God forgive me, 
 (Marry and amen !) how sound is she asleej;) ! 
 I needsmustwake her: — Madam, madam, madam ! 
 Av, let the county take you in your bed ; 
 He'll fright you up, i' fiiith.— Will it not be? 
 WIiat,drest! and in your clothes! and do\vn again! 
 I must needs wake you: Lady! lady! lady !— 
 Alas ! alas ! — Help ! help ! my lady's dead I — 
 O, well-a-day, that ever I was born ! — 
 Some aqua vita:, ho ! — my lord, ray lady ! — 
 
 Enter Ladv Capclet. 
 
 /.«. Cap. What noise is here ? 
 
 Nurse. lamentable day ! 
 
 /.a. Cup. What is the matter? 
 
 Nurse. Look, look! heavy day! 
 
 La. Cap. me, me ! — my child, my only life, 
 Revive, look uji. or I will die with thee ! — 
 Help, help ! — call help. 
 
 Enter Capitlet. 
 
 Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is 
 
 come. 
 Nurse. She's dead, deceased, she's dead ; alack 
 
 the day! 
 La. Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead, 
 
 slie's dead. 
 Cup. Ha! let me see her: — Out, alas! she's cold; 
 Her olood is settled, and her joints are stiif: 
 Life and these lips have long been separated: 
 Death lies on her, like an untimely Irost 
 Upon the sweetest (lower of all the field. 
 Accurs'-d time! unfortunate old man! 
 Nurse. O lamentable day ! 
 Tm. Cap. O woeful lime ! 
 
 Cup. Death, that lipth ta'en her hence to make 
 me wail. 
 Ties uji my tongue, and will not let me speak. 
 
 Enter FiUAit Laurence and PAUfs, wilh Jlusi- 
 clans. 
 
 Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to clmrch ? 
 
 Cap. Ready to go, but never to return: 
 O son, the night before thj' wedding-day 
 Hath death lain with thy bride :— See, thereslie lies, 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 no 
 
 Fl'«vei' as sill', was, dcilowered by liim. 
 Death is my soM-iii-Iaw, death is mv heir; 
 My dauglit'er he halh wedded! I will die, 
 Aiid leave him all; life leaving, all is death's. 
 Par. Have I thought lonij to see this morning's 
 lace, 
 And doth it give me such a sight as this ? 
 La. Cap. Accurs'd. unhappy, wretched, hateful 
 day! 
 M )st miserable hour that e'er time saw 
 III lasting labor of his pilgrimage! 
 But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, 
 But one thing to rejoice and solace in. 
 And cruel death hath catcli'd it from my sight. 
 Nurse. O woe ! O woeful, woeful, woeful day ! 
 Most lamentable day ! most woeful day, 
 That ever, ever, 1 did yet behold ! 
 O day ! O day ! O day ! O hateful day ! 
 Never was seen so black a day as this : 
 O woeful day. O woeful day ! 
 
 Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain ! 
 Most detestable death, by thee beguird. 
 By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown !— 
 O'love ! O lilo !— not life, but love in death ! 
 
 Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd.ldU'd ! 
 Uncomfortable time ! why cam'st thou now 
 To ninrdcr. murder our solemnity ! — 
 O child ! O child !— my soul, and not my child !— 
 Dead art thou, dead !— alack ! my child is dead ; 
 And. with my cliild, my joys are buried ! 
 Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives 
 not 
 In these confusions. Heaven and yourself 
 Had part in this fair maid ; now heaven hath all, 
 And all the better is it lor the maid : 
 Your part in her you could not keep from death ; 
 But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. 
 The most you sought was— her promotion ; 
 For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanced: 
 And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced 
 Above the cbiuds, as higli as heaven itself? 
 O, in tliis love, you love your child so ill. 
 That you run mad, seeing that slie is well : 
 She's not well married, that lives married long ; 
 But she's best married, that dies married young. 
 Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary 
 On this fair corse; and, as the custom is. 
 In all her best array bear her to church : 
 For though fond nature bids us all lament, 
 Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. 
 
 Cap. All things that we ordained festival, 
 Turn from their othce to black funeral: 
 Our instruments, to melanclioly bells; 
 Our wedding-cheer, to a sad burial feast; 
 Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ; 
 (lur bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,' 
 And all things change them to the contrary. 
 
 Fri. Sir, go you in,— and, madam, go with him; — 
 And go, sir Paris; — every one prepare 
 To follow this liiir corse unto her grave : 
 The heavens do lower upon you for some ill ; 
 Move them no more, by crossing their high will. 
 {Exeunt Cai'Ulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, 
 and Friar. 
 
 1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be 
 gone. 
 
 Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up ; put up ; 
 For, well you luiow, this is a pitiful case. 
 
 [Exit Nurse. 
 1 Mus. .4.y, by my troth, the case may bo 
 amended. 
 
 Enter Peteu. 
 
 Pet. Musicians, 0, musicians. Heart's ea.^e, 
 tiearVs ease; O, an you'll have me live, play— 
 heart's ease. 
 
 1 Mus. Why tieart's ease ? 
 
 Pet. O. musicians, because my heart itself plays 
 —Mil lieart lijull of woe : O, play me some raeri-y 
 duniji,* to comtbrl me. 
 
 2 Mus. Not a dump we ; 'tis no time to play 
 
 now. 
 
 Pet. You will not, then ] 
 
 Mas. No. 
 
 Pet. I will then give it yon soundly. 
 
 1 Mus. What will you give us? 
 
 Pet. No money, oii my faith; but the gleek:^ I 
 will give you the minstrel. 
 
 1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving- 
 creature. 
 
 Pet. Then will 1 lay the serving-creature's dagger 
 0!i >our pate. 1 will carry no crotchets : I'll re you, 
 I'll'/'n you ; Do you note me ! 
 
 l Mus. An you re us, and/« us, you note us. 
 
 1 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put 
 out your wit. 
 
 Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry- 
 beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron 
 dagger : — Answer mc like men : 
 
 Wtien griping grief the heart doth wound, 
 
 .And doleful iluinps the mind oppress, 
 Then nius'ic, with her silver sound; 
 
 Why, sileer sound? why, 7nusic with her silver 
 sound? 
 Wliat say you, Simon Catling'! 
 
 1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet 
 sound. 
 
 Pet. Pretty ! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 
 
 2 Mus. 1 say— «t(fer sound, because musicians 
 sound for silver. 
 
 Pet. Pretty too !— What say you, James Sound- 
 post ? 
 
 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say. 
 
 Pet. 0, 1 cry you mercy ! you are the singer : I 
 will say for you. It is — music with her .nicer 
 sound, because such fellows as you have seldom 
 gold for sounding:— 
 
 Then musie wUh her silver sound, 
 With speedy help doth lend redress. 
 
 [Exit, singing- 
 
 1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same ! 
 
 2 Mus. Hang him. Jack ! Came, we'll in here: 
 tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Mantua. ,1 Street. 
 Enter Romeo. 
 Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, 
 Bly dreams presage some Joylul news at hand : 
 My bosom's lord sils lightly'in his throne; 
 And all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit 
 Lilts mc above the ground with cheerful thoughts. 
 1 dreamt, my lady came and Ibund me dead ; 
 (Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to 
 
 think,) 
 And brealh'tl such life with kisses in my lips, 
 That I reviv'd, and was an emperor. 
 Ail me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd 
 When but love's sliadows are so rich in joj^ ! 
 
 Enter Balthazar. 
 
 News imm Verona! — How now, Balthazar? 
 Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar ? 
 
 How doth my lady ? is my father well ? 
 How fares my Juliet? That I ask agr.in ; 
 For nothing can be ill, if she be well. 
 
 Bat. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill ; 
 Her body sleeps in Capels' monument. 
 And her'ininiorlal part with angels lives; 
 I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, 
 And presently took post to tell it you : 
 pardon mc'for bringing these ill news, 
 Since you did leave it for my ortice, sir. 
 
 Roni. Is it even so ? then, I defy you, stars!— 
 Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and 
 
 paper. 
 And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night. 
 
 hat. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus: 
 Your looks are pale and wild, and do import 
 Some misadventure. 
 
 * Dtimp.^ were heavy, mournful tune=i. 
 
 > To gleeJc is to scolf, and a gktkman signified a minstrel 
 
720 
 
 IIOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Rant. Tush, tlioii art dnceiv'd : 
 
 Leave me, and do the thing I bid lliee do : 
 Ha-t thou no letters to me from the friar'! 
 
 Sill. No, my good lord. 
 
 Horn. No matter: get thee gone, 
 
 And hire those horses ; I'll be with thee straiifht. 
 
 {Exit Balthazar. 
 Well. Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. 
 Let's St^e lor moans : — O, mischief, thou art swift 
 To enter iu the thoughts of desperate men ! 
 I do rojnember an apothecary, — 
 And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I noted 
 In tatler'd weeds, with overwlielming brows, 
 Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, 
 Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: 
 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 An allitrator stuiF'd, and other skins 
 Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
 Green earthen pots, bladders. and musty seeds. 
 Remnants r)f packtiiread, and old cakes of roses, 
 Were thinly scalter'd, to make up a show. 
 Noting this penury, to myself I said — 
 An if a man did need a poison now. 
 Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
 Here lives a caililTwretcli would sell it him. 
 O, this same thought did but fore-rmi my need; 
 And this same needy man must sell it me. 
 As I remember, this should be the house: 
 Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. — 
 What, ho! apothecary! 
 
 Enter Apothecary. 
 
 Ap. Who calls so loud] 
 
 Rom. Come hither, ni.in. — I see, that thou art 
 poor ; 
 Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have 
 A dram of poison: such soon-speeding geer^ 
 As will disperse itself through all the veins. 
 That the life-weary taker may fall dead; 
 And that the trunk may be discharged of breath 
 As violently, as hasty powder tired 
 Doth hurry from the fata! cannon's womb. 
 
 Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's 
 law 
 Is death, to any he that utters them. 
 
 Rfini. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, 
 And fear'st to die ] famine is in thy cheeks, 
 Need and oppression starveth in tliine eyes. 
 Upon thy hack hangs ragged misery. 
 The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law: 
 The world alfords no law to make thee rich ; 
 Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 
 
 Ap. My jioverty, but not in\' will, consents. 
 
 Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 
 
 A]). Put this in any liquid thing you will. 
 And drink it ofl'; and. if you had the strength 
 Of twenty men, it would despatch you .straight. 
 
 Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's 
 souls. 
 Doing more murders in this loathsome world, ' 
 Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not 
 
 sell : 
 I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. 
 Farewell ; buy (bod. and get thyself in flesh. — 
 Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me 
 To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Friar Laurence's Cell. 
 Enter Friar John. 
 Jo/iii. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! 
 Enter FniAR Lauhexce. 
 
 Lati. This same should be tlje voice of Friar 
 John. — 
 Welcome from Mantua: Whatsays Romeo? 
 Or. if his mind be writ, give me his letter. 
 
 Jolin. tilling to find a barefoot brother out, 
 One of our order to associate me. 
 Here in this city visiting the sick. 
 And lintliiig hiin, the searchers of the town, 
 SusjUH'ting I hat we both were in a house 
 Wllere the infectious pestilence did reign, 
 SeaI'd up the doors, and wauld not let us forth; 
 So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. 
 
 Latt. Who bare my letter then to Romeo? 
 « stua-. 
 
 John. I could not send it, — here it is again, — ■ 
 Nor get a messenger to bring it thee. 
 So fearful were they of infection. 
 
 Lau. Unhapjiy Ibrtune I by my brotherhood, 
 The letter was not nice," but full of cliarge, 
 Of dear import; and the neglecting it 
 May do much danger: Friar John, go hence; 
 t^et me an iron crow, and bring it straight 
 Unto my cell. 
 
 Jofin. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Lau. Now must I to the monument alone ; 
 Within these three hours will lair Juliet waiie ; 
 Siie will beshrew me much tiiat Romeo 
 Hath had no notice of tliese accidents : 
 But I will write again to Mantua, 
 And keep her at niy cell till Romeo come; 
 Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb ! 
 
 [ExU. 
 
 SCENE III. — A Churcltyarii ; in it, a Monument 
 belonging to tfie Capulets. 
 
 Enter Paris and /lis Page, bearing Flowers and 
 a Torc/i. 
 
 Par. Give me thy torch, boy : Hence, and stand 
 aloof; — 
 Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. 
 Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along. 
 Holding thine car close to tiie hollow ground ; 
 So shall no li'ot upon the churchyard tread, 
 (Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of gra\es,) 
 But thou Shalt hear it: whistle then to me. 
 As signal that thou hear'st something approach. 
 Give ine those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. 
 
 Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone 
 Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. 
 
 [ Hetires. 
 Par. Sv\'eet flower, with flowers I strew thy 
 bridal bed : 
 Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain 
 The pcrll?cl model of eternity ; 
 Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain, 
 .\ccept this latest favor at my hands; 
 That living honor'd thee, anil, being dead. 
 With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb ! 
 
 [ The Boy wliiflles. 
 The boy gives warning, something doth approach. 
 What cursed foot wanders this way to-niglit. 
 To cross my obsequies, and true love's rites? 
 What, with a torch!— mufile me, night, a while. 
 
 [Retires, 
 Enter Romeo and Balthazar, with a Torch, 
 Mutliictt, ^c. 
 
 Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching 
 iron. 
 Hold, take this letter; early in the morning 
 See thou deliver it to my lord and father. 
 Give me the light : Upon thy lite, I charge thee, 
 Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, 
 And do not interrupt me in my course. 
 Why I descend into this bed of death. 
 Is, partly, to behold my lady's face. 
 But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger 
 A precious ring; a ring that I must use 
 In dear employment:^ therefore hence, bcgonei — 
 But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry 
 In what 1 further shall intend to do. 
 By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, 
 And strew this hungry churchyard with Illy limbs: 
 The time and my intents are savage-wild ; 
 More fierce, and more inexorable tar. 
 Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. 
 
 Bui. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
 
 Rom. So shall thou show me friendship.— Take 
 thou that: 
 Live, and be prosperous ; and farewell, good fellow. 
 
 Rat. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout; 
 His looks I fear, and his intents 1 doubt. [Retires, 
 
 Rom. Thou detestable m,aw, thou womb of death. 
 Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth. 
 Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open. 
 
 [Breaking open the Door oft tie Mtmnment, 
 And, in despite, I'll cram thee wi'th more food ! 
 
 Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague, 
 That murder'd my love's cousin ;— with which grief, 
 It is supposed, the fair creature died, — 
 
 1 i.e. On .a trivi:il cr iill.' suliject. 
 ■ I.e. .\ n];itter ofiinportuuce. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 721 
 
 And here is come to do some villainous shame 
 To the dead bodies : I will apprehend him. — 
 
 [Advances, 
 Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague ; 
 Can vengeance be pursued further than death! 
 Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee : 
 Obey, and go with me ; for thou must die. 
 
 Eom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I 
 hither. — 
 Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. 
 Fly hence, and leave me ;— think upon these gone; 
 Le't them affright thee.— I beseech thee, youth, 
 Heap not another sjn upon my head, 
 Bv urgnig me to fury : — 0, be gone ! 
 By heaven, I love thee lictter than myself: 
 For I come hither arnvd against myself: 
 Stay not, be gone ; — live, and hereatler say — 
 A niadman's mercy bade thee run away. 
 
 Par. I do defy thy conjurations,^ 
 And do attach thee as a lelon here. 
 
 Rom. Wilt thou provoke me1 then have at thee, 
 boy. [They fight- 
 
 Page. 0" lord! they fight, I will go call the 
 watch. [Exit Page. 
 
 Pnr. 0,lam slain! [FaZts.]— If thou be merciful. 
 Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies. 
 
 Rom. In faith,! will:— Let me peruse this face; — 
 Mcrcutio's kinsman, noble county Paris: — 
 What said my man, when my betossed soul 
 Did not attend him as we rode '< I think. 
 He told me Paris should have married Juliet: 
 Said he not sol or did I dream it so ! 
 Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 
 To tliink it was so ?— O. give me thy liand. 
 One writ with me in sour mislbrtune-s book ! 
 I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave, — 
 A gravel O, no; a lantern, slaughter'd youth, 
 For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 
 Tliis vault a feasting presence' full of light. 
 Death, lie thou there, liy a dead man interr'd. 
 
 [Laying Pahis in the Monument. 
 How oft, when men are at the point of death. 
 Have they been merry? which their keepers call 
 A lightning before death ; — 0, how may I 
 Call this a lightning!— O, mv love! my wife! 
 Death, that hath suck'd the lioney of thy breath. 
 Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: 
 Thou art not conquer'd; l)eauty's ensign yet 
 Is crimson in tliy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
 And death's pale Hag is not advanced there. — 
 Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody slieet? 
 O, what more favor can I do to thee, 
 Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain. 
 To sunder his that was thine enemy 1 
 Forgive me, cousin ! — Ah, dear Juliet, 
 Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe 
 That unsubstantial death is amorous; 
 And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
 Thee here in dark to be bis paramour! 
 For fear of that, I will slill stay with thee; 
 And never from tiiis palace of dim night 
 Depart asain ; here, here will I remain 
 With worms that are thy chambermaids; 0, here 
 Will I set up my everlasting rest ; 
 And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
 From this world-wearied ilesh. — Eyes, look your 
 
 last! 
 Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, you, 
 The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
 A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! — 
 Come, bitter conduct,^ come, unsavory guide ! 
 Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
 The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark ! 
 Here's to my love !— ['D/-/')A-.?.] 0, true apothecary ! 
 Til) drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Enter, at the oilier End of the Churchyard, Friar 
 Laurkn'ce, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade. 
 Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night 
 flave my old feet stumliled at graves! — Who's 
 
 tliere ! 
 Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead ! 
 Bat. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows 
 
 you well. 
 Fri. Bliss be upon you ! Tell me, good my 
 friend. 
 What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light 
 B I refuse to do ns thou conjurcgt me to do, iy. to depart. 
 * Presence-chamber. ^ Conductor. 
 
 46 
 
 To grubs and eyeless skulls! as I discern, 
 It buriicth in the Capels' monument. 
 
 Bat. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, 
 One that you love. 
 
 Fi-i. Who is it! 
 
 Bat. Romeo. 
 
 Fri. How long hath he been there ! 
 
 Bat. Full half an hour. 
 
 Fri, Go with me to the vault. 
 
 Bat. I dare not. sir: 
 
 My master knows not, but I am gone hence ; 
 And fearfully did menace me with death. 
 If I did stay to look on his intents. 
 
 Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone:— Fear comes upon 
 me; 
 0, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. 
 
 Bat. .\s I did sleep under this yew-tree here, 
 I dreamt my master and another fought, 
 And that my master slew him. 
 
 Fri. Romeo! [Advances. 
 
 Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains 
 The stony entrance of this sepulchre ! — 
 What mean these masterless and gory swords 
 To lie discolor'd by this place of peace! 
 
 [Enters the Monument. 
 Romeo! O, pale!— Who else! what, Paris, ton! 
 And stee|i'd in blood ! — Ah, what an unkind hour 
 Is guilty of this laiucutable chance ! — 
 The lady stirs. [Juliet ivakes and xlirs. 
 
 Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord! 
 I do remember well where I should be. 
 And there I am :— Where is my Romeo ! 
 
 [Xoite ivilldn. 
 
 Fri. I hear some noise. — Lady, come from that 
 nest 
 Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep; 
 A greater I'ower than we can contradict 
 Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away: 
 Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; 
 And Paris too: come, I'll dispose of Ihee 
 Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: 
 Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; 
 Come, go, good Juliet,— [iVoise again.] I dare stay 
 no longer. [Exit. 
 
 Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.— 
 What's here! a cup, clos'd in my true love's iiand! 
 Poison, I see, hat'h been bis timeless end: — 
 O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop, 
 To help nie aller !— I will kiss thy lips : 
 Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them. 
 To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him. 
 Thy lips are warm ! 
 1 fVatch. [IVithin.] Lead, hoy: — Which way! 
 
 Jul. Yea, noise! — Then I'll be brief. — O happy 
 dagger ! [Snatching Rojieu's Dagger. 
 
 This is thy sheath; [Stahs herself.] there rust, and 
 let mc die. 
 
 [Falls on Romeo's Sody, and dies. 
 Enter Watch, with Ike Page »/■ Paris. 
 
 Page. This is the place; there, where the torch 
 doth burn. 
 
 1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Searcli about 
 
 the churchyard: 
 Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach. 
 
 [Er.eunt some. 
 Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain ;— 
 And Juliet bleeding ; warm, and newly dead, 
 Who here hath lain these two days buried. — 
 Go, tell the prince, — run to the Capulets, — 
 Raise up the Montagues. — some others search ; — 
 
 [Exeunt other Watchmen. 
 We see the ground whereon these woes do lie ; 
 But the true ground of all these piteous woes 
 We cannot without circumstance descry. 
 
 Enter some rfthe Watch, with Balthazar. 
 
 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in 
 
 the eluirchy'ard. 
 1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come 
 hilher. 
 
 Enter another Watchman, with Friar LAURExra. 
 
 3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, 
 
 and weeps : 
 We took this mattock and this spade from him. 
 As he was coming from this churchyard side. 
 1 Watch. A great suspicion : Stay the friar too. 
 
 Enter the Prince and Attendants. 
 Prince. What misadventure is so early up. 
 That calls our person from our morning's rest ! 
 
722 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act V. Scene III. 
 
 Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and others. 
 
 Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek 
 abroad f 
 
 La. Cap. The people in the street cry — Romeo, 
 Some — Juliet, and some — Paris; and all run, 
 With open outcry, toward our monument.- 
 
 Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our 
 cars? 
 
 1 JVatc/i. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris 
 slain ; 
 And Romeo dead; nnd Juliet, dead before, 
 Warm and new kill'd. 
 
 Frince. Search, seek, and know how this foul 
 murder comes. 
 
 1 JVafch. Here is a friar, and slaughter^ Romeo's 
 man ; 
 With instruments upon them, fat to open 
 These dead men's tombs. 
 
 Cap. O, heavens ! — wife ! look how our daughter 
 bleeds ! 
 This dagger hath mista'en,— for lo ! his housed 
 Is empty on the hack of Montague, — 
 And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom. 
 
 La. Cap. O me! ihis sight of death is as a bell, 
 That warns my old age to a sepulchre. 
 Enter jMoNTAGUE a7id others. 
 
 Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, 
 To see thy son and heir more early down, 
 
 Man. Alas, my licgc, my wife is dead to-night; 
 Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath : 
 What further woe conspires agamst mine agel 
 
 prince. Look, and thou shalt see. 
 
 Man. thou untaught; what manners is in this, 
 To press before thy father to a grave ? 
 
 PHnce. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, 
 Till we can clear these ambiguities, 
 And know their spring, their head, their true de- 
 scent ; 
 And then will I be general of your woes. 
 And lead you even to death : Meantime forbear, 
 And let mischance be slave to patience.— 
 Bring Ibrth the parties of suspicion. 
 
 Fri. 1 am the greatest, able to do least. 
 Yet most suspected, as the time and place 
 Poth make against me, of this direful murder; 
 And here I stand, both to impeach and purge 
 Myself condemned and myself excus'd. 
 
 Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know 
 in this. 
 
 Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath 
 Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 
 Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; 
 And she, there dead, Ihat Romeo's faithful wife : 
 I married them ; and their stolen nuirriage-day 
 Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death 
 Ranish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city; 
 For wliom, ajjd not for Tybalt, Juliet i>iued. 
 You — to remove that sicge^ of grief from lier, — 
 Retroth'd. and would have married her perforce, 
 To county Paris : — Then comes she to me; 
 And. with wild looks, bid me devise some means 
 To rid her from this second marriage. 
 Or, in my cell there would she kill herself. 
 Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, 
 A sleeping potion ; which so took ellect 
 As I intended, for it wrought on her 
 The form of death : meantime I writ to Romeo, 
 That he should liither come at this dire night, 
 i i. c. Tbe scabbard. * Seat. 
 
 To help to take her from her boiTow'd grave, 
 Reing the time the potion's force should cease. 
 Rut he which bore my letter, friar John, 
 Was staid by accident; and yesternight 
 Return'd my letter I)ack: Then all alone. 
 At the pretixed hour of her waking.^ 
 Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; 
 Meaning to keep her closely at ray cell. 
 Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: 
 Put, when I came, (some minute ere the time 
 Of her awakening,) here untimely lay 
 The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead. 
 She wakes; and I entreated her come forth. 
 And hear this work of heaven with patieiffie: 
 Ilut then a noise did scare me from the tomb ; 
 And she, too desperate, would not go with mc, 
 Rut (as it seems) did violence on herself. 
 All tnis I know; and to the marriage. 
 Her nurse is privy: And, if aught in this 
 Miscarried by my fault, let my old life 
 Be sacrificed, some hour before his time, 
 Unto the rigor of severest law. 
 Prince. We still have known thee for a holy 
 man. — 
 Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? 
 Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death ; 
 And then in post he came from Mantua, 
 To this same place, to this same monument. 
 This letter lie early bid me give his father; 
 And threaten'd me witli death, going in the vault. 
 If I departed not, and lefl him there. 
 
 Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it. — 
 Where is the county's page, tliat rais'd the watch ? — 
 Sirrah, what made" your master in this place ? 
 Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's 
 grave ; 
 And bid me stand aloof, and so I did : 
 Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb ; 
 And, by and by, my master drew on him ; 
 And then I ran away to call the watch. 
 Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's 
 words, 
 Their course of love, the tidings of her death : 
 And here he writes — that he did buy a poison 
 Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithnt 
 Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. — 
 Where he these enemies? Capulet! Montague! 
 See what a scourge is laid upon your hate. 
 That heaven finds means to kill your joys witt 
 
 love; 
 And I, for winking at your discords too. 
 Have lost a brace of kinsmen:'' — All are punish'd. 
 
 Coji. O brother Montague, give me thy liand: 
 Tliis is my daughter's jointure, for no more 
 Can I demand. 
 
 Man. Rut I can give thee more : 
 
 For I will raise her statue in pure gold ; 
 That, wliile Verona by that name is known, 
 There shall no ligure at such rate be set, 
 As that of true and faithful Juliet. 
 
 Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie ; 
 Poor sacrifices of our enmity! 
 Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it 
 brings: 
 The sun for sorrow will not show his head: 
 Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things ; 
 Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: 
 For never was a story of more woe, 
 Thau this of Juliet and her Romeo, [Exeunt. 
 
 » Mcrcutio and Paris. 
 
I 
 
HAMLET, 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Claudius, A'in? of Denmark. 
 
 Hamlet, Sou to the furiuer, and Nephew to the 
 
 jyreseiit Kitig. . 
 
 PoLONiuS, Ijird Chamberlain, 
 Horatio, Friend to Hamlet. 
 Laektes, Son to Polonius. 
 
 voltiman'd, 
 coiixelius, 
 Rosescrantz, 
 guildenstern, 
 OsRic, a Cuiuiier. 
 Another Courtier. 
 A Priest. 
 Marcellus, 
 Berxardo, 
 
 1 
 
 Courtiers. 
 
 '^' I Officers. 
 
 Francisco, a Soldier. 
 
 Revnaldo, Servant to Polonius. 
 
 A Copt (tin. 
 
 An Ambassador. 
 
 Gh/ist of Hamlet's Fattier. 
 
 FouTixERAS, Prince of Norway. 
 
 Gertrude. Queen of Denmark, and Motlier of 
 
 Hamlet. 
 Ophelia, Daughter of Polonius. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave- 
 diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendr 
 ants. 
 
 SCENE, Elsinore. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — Elsinore. A Platform before the 
 
 Castle. 
 Francisco on his Post. Enter to him Bernardo. 
 
 Bcr. Who's there! 
 
 Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold 
 
 Yourself. 
 
 Per. Long live the king ! 
 
 Fran. Bernardo ? 
 
 Her. He. 
 
 Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. 
 
 Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve ;' gel thee to bed, 
 Francisco. 
 
 Fran. For this reHef, much thanks; 'tis bitter 
 cold. 
 And I am sick at heart. 
 
 Ber. Have you had quiet guard 1 
 
 Fran. Not a mouse stirritig. 
 
 Ber. Well, good-night. 
 Tf you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, 
 The rivals' of my watch, bid them make haste. 
 Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 
 
 Fran. I think, I hear them. — Stand, ho! Who is 
 there ! 
 
 Ilor. Friends to this ground. 
 
 Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. 
 
 Fran. Give you good-night. 
 
 Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier : 
 
 Who hath relieved you ? 
 
 Fran. Bernardo hath my place. 
 
 Give you good-night. [£.T(/ Francisco. 
 
 Mar. Holla ! Bernardo ! 
 
 Ber. . Say, 
 
 Wliul. is Horatio there"! 
 
 Jlor. A piece of him. 
 
 Ber. Welcome, Horatio; Welcome, good Mar- 
 cellus. 
 
 llor. What, has this thing appear'd again to- 
 night ! 
 
 Ber. I have seen nothing. 
 
 * Partners. 
 
 Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy, 
 And will not let belief take hold of him, 
 Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us; 
 Thorolbrc I have entreated him, along 
 With us to watch the minutes of this night; 
 That, if again this apparition come. 
 He may approve- our eyes, and speak to it. 
 
 Ilor. Tusii ! tush ! 'twill not ai)pear. 
 
 Ber. Sit down awhile; 
 
 And let us once again assail your ears, 
 That are so fortified against our story, 
 What we two nights have seen. 
 
 Hor. Well, sit we down, 
 
 And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. 
 
 Ber. Last night of all. 
 When yon same star, that's westward from the pole, 
 Had made his course to illume that partof heaven 
 Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself. 
 The bell then beating one. — 
 
 Mar. Peace, break thee olT; look, where it 
 comes again ! 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 Ber.ln the same figure, like the king that's dead. 
 
 Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio. 
 
 Ber. Looks it not like the king! mark it, Ho- 
 ratio. 
 
 Hor. Most like : — it harrows me with fear, and 
 wonder. 
 
 Ber. It would be spoke to. 
 
 Mar. Speak to it. Horatio. 
 
 Hur. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of 
 niglit. 
 Together with that fair and warlike form 
 In which the majesty of buried Denmark 
 Did sometimes niarch! By iieaven, 1 charge thee, 
 speak. 
 
 Mar. It is offended. 
 
 Ber. See ! it stalks away. 
 
 Bur. Stay, speak: speak, I charge thee, speak. 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 3 Make good, or establish. 
 
 723 
 
724 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. 
 Ber. How now, Horatio 7 you tremble, and look 
 pale: 
 Is not this something more than fantasy 1 
 What think you ofit? 
 
 Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe, 
 Without the sensible and true avouch 
 Of mine own eyes. 
 Mar. Is it not like the king 1 
 
 Jliir. As thou art to thyself: 
 ."^iich was the very armor lie had on. 
 When he the ambitious Norway combated ; 
 So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,3 
 He smote the sledded^ Polack* on the ice. 
 Tis strange. 
 31ar. Thus, twice before, and jumps at this dead 
 hour. 
 With martial stalk halh he gone hv our watch. 
 Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know 
 not; 
 nut in the gross and scope of mine opinion. 
 This bodes some strange eruption to our state. 
 Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that 
 knows. 
 Why this same strict and most observant watch 
 Souiglilly toils the subject ofthe land; 
 And why such daily cast ofbrazen cannon, 
 And foreign mart for implements of war: 
 Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task 
 Does not divide the Sunday from the week: 
 What might be toward, th.it this sweaty haste 
 Doth make the night joint-laborer with the day ; 
 Who is't, that can inform mel 
 
 -f^f"-- That can I ; 
 
 A t least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, 
 Whose image even but now appear'd to us. 
 Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, 
 Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride. 
 Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet 
 (For so this side of our known world estcem'd him) 
 Did slay this Fortinbras ; who, by a seal'd com- 
 pact. 
 Well ralitied by law and heraldry. 
 Did forloit with his life, all those his lands, 
 AVhich he stood seis'd of. to the conqueror; 
 Against the which, a moiety competent 
 Was gaged by our king ; v/hich had rcturn'd 
 To the inheritance of Fortinbras, 
 Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same comart,' 
 And carriage ofthe article design'd,s 
 His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fortinbras, 
 Of unimproved mettle hot and fall,^ 
 Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, 
 Sliark'd' up a list of landless resolutes, 
 For Ibod and diet, to some enterprise 
 That hath a stomach- in't; which is no other, 
 (As it doth well appear unto our state,) 
 But to recover of us, by strong hand. 
 And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands 
 So by his father lost: And this, I take it. 
 Is the main motive of our prcparalions ; 
 The source of Ibis our watch ; and the chief head 
 Of this post-haste and roniage' in the land. 
 Bcr. I think, it be no other, but even so : 
 Well may it sort,' that this portentous figure 
 Comes armed through our watch ; so like the king 
 That was, and is, the question of these wars. 
 
 Ilnr. A mote it is. to trouble the mind's eye. 
 In the most high and palmy-^ state of Rome, 
 A little ere the mightiest Julius fell. 
 The graves stood tenantlcss, and the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. 
 
 As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, 
 Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star^ 
 Upon whose inlluence Neptune's empire stands, 
 Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. 
 And even the like precurse of fierce events, — 
 As harbingers preceding still the fiites. 
 And prologues to the omen^ coming on, — 
 Have heaven and earth together demonstrated 
 Unto our climafures and countrymen,— 
 
 ' Piapiito. a Sledged. 
 
 » rnl:imter, an inh.il)it;iut of PoKind. 
 
 ' ■'"»'■ 1 .loiut b.lrgain. 
 
 a Thn corpoant to confirm tli;it biirj^'ain. 
 
 Kill] of spirit without oxp.-rience. * Pirked. 
 
 » IIi'HoJntion. 3 Si!.irch. * ."^uit. 
 
 • ^ k-turious. • The moon. i Kvent. 
 
 Re-enter Ghost. 
 But, .soft; behold ! lo, where it comes again ! 
 I II cross it, though it blast me.— Stay, illusion! 
 If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, 
 Speak to me : 
 
 If there be any good thing to be done. 
 That may to thee do ease, and grace to me. 
 Speak to me : 
 
 If thou art privy to thy country's fate. 
 Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, 
 speak ' 
 
 Or, if fhou hast uphoardcd in thy life 
 Extorted treasure in the womb of earth. 
 For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, 
 _ , „. [Cpck crcnvs. 
 
 Speak of It:— stay, and speak.— Stop it, Maicellus 
 Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan ?* 
 Har. Do, if it will not stand. 
 Ber. 'Tis here ! 
 
 ,,"'■ ,.^. 'Tis here! 
 
 Mar. Tts^nne. [Exit Ghost. 
 
 We do It wrong, being so majestical, 
 To olfer it the show of violence; 
 For iuis, as the air, invulnerable. 
 And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
 Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. 
 Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing 
 Upon a li'arful summons. I have heard. 
 The cock, that is the trumpet ofthe morn. 
 Doth with his lofty and shrill-soundiug throat 
 Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, 
 Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air. 
 The extravagant and errings spirit hies 
 To his confine: and of the truth herein 
 This present object made probation.' 
 
 Mar, It faded on the crov\'ing ofthe cock. 
 Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 
 Whereni our Saviour's birth is celebrated. 
 This bird of dawning singeth all night long: 
 And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
 The nights are whole.some; then no planets strike, 
 No Iftiry takes, nor witch hath power to charm. 
 So liallow'd and so gracious is the time. 
 
 Hur. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. 
 But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad. 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 
 Break we our watch up; and, by my advice, 
 Let us impart what we have seen to-night 
 Unto young Hamlet: lor, upon my life. 
 This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him : 
 Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, 
 As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? 
 
 Mar. Let's do't, I pray ; and I this mornintr know 
 Where we shall find him most convenient. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Room of State in the same. 
 Enter tlie King, Queen, Hamlet, PoLoxtrs, 
 Laeiites, Voltimaxd, CoRNELits, Lords, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's 
 death 
 The memory be green; and that it us befitted 
 To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom 
 To be contracted in one brow of woe; 
 Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, 
 That we with wisest sorrow think on him. 
 Together with remembrance of ourselves. 
 Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen. 
 The imperial jointress of this warlike state, 
 Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, — 
 With one auspicious, and one drooping eye; 
 Willi mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, 
 In equal scale weighing delight and dole,2 — 
 Taken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd 
 Your better wisdoms, which have Ireely gone 
 With this affair along: — For all, our thanks. 
 
 Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,— 
 Holding a weak supnosal of our worth ; 
 Or thinking, by our.iate dear brother's death, 
 Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, 
 Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, 
 He hath not liiil'd to pester us with message, 
 Imjiorting the surrender of those lands 
 Lost by his lather, with all bands'^ of law. 
 To our most valiant brolher. — So much for him. 
 
 « .\. sort of pike. 
 » Grisf. 
 
 6 Wiindering, 
 
 ' Proof. 
 3 Uonds. 
 
ScK^E II. 
 
 PMXCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 ilio 
 
 Now for oiirsolf, and for this time of meeting;. 
 
 Thus much the business is: We have here writ 
 
 To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, — 
 
 Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears 
 
 Of this liis nephew's purpose, — to suppress 
 
 His further gait^ herein ; in that the levies, 
 
 The lists, and full proportions, are all made 
 
 Out of liis subject: — and we here despatch 
 
 You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, 
 
 For bearers of this greeting to old Norway ; 
 
 (iiving to you no further personal power 
 
 To business witli the kini^, more than the scope 
 
 Of these dilated articles allow. 
 
 Farewell ; and let your haste commend your duty. 
 
 Cor. Vol. In that, and all tilings, will we show 
 our duty. 
 
 King. We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. 
 [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. 
 And now, Laertes, what'^s the news with you 1 
 Yon loid us of some suit: What is't. Laertes! 
 You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, 
 And lose your voice: What wouldst thou beg, 
 
 Laertes, 
 That shall not be my offer, riot thy asking ] 
 The head is not more native to the heart. 
 The hand more instrumental to the mouth, 
 Than is the tlirone ol Denmark to thy tather. 
 What wouldst thou have, Laertes? 
 
 Laer. My dread lord, 
 
 Your leave and favor to return to France; 
 From whence, though willingly, I came to Den- 
 mark. 
 To show my duty in your coronation ; 
 Yet now I must conless, that duty done. 
 My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, 
 And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. 
 
 King. Have you your lUtiier's leave'? Wliat says 
 PoloniusT 
 
 Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow 
 leave. 
 By laborsomc petititm ; and, at last. 
 Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: 
 I do beseech you, give him leave to go. 
 
 King:. Take thy iair hour, Laertes; time bctiiine, 
 And thy best graces : spend it at thy will. — 
 But now, my c usin Hamlet, and my son, 
 
 JIurn. A little more than kin, and less than kind. 
 
 [Anide. 
 
 King. How is it that the clouds still hang on 
 you I 
 
 Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun. 
 
 Queen. Good Hamlet, cast tiiy nightod color otY, 
 And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. 
 Do not, for ever, witli thy vailed lids^ 
 Seek for thy noble lather in the dust: 
 Thou know'st 'tis common ; all, that live, must die, 
 Passing through nature to eternity. 
 
 Haju. Ay, madam, it is common. 
 
 Queen. If it be. 
 
 Why seems it so particular with thee 1 
 
 Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not 
 seems. 
 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
 Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, 
 No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
 Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage. 
 Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief. 
 That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem, 
 For they are actions that a man might play : 
 But 1 have that within, wliich passeth show; 
 These, but the trappings and the suits of woe. 
 
 King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your 
 nature, Hamlet, 
 To give these mourning duties to your father: 
 But, you must know, your father lost a lather; 
 That father lost, lost Ins; and the survivor bound 
 In tihal obligation, tor some term 
 To do obsequious sorrow : But to persever 
 In obstinate condolemcnt, is a course 
 Of impious stubbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief: 
 It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, 
 A heart unfbrtilied, or mind impatient; 
 An understanding simple and unschool'd : 
 For what, we know, must be, and is as common 
 As any the most vulgar thing to sense. 
 Why should we, in our peevish opposition. 
 Take it to iieart f Fye ! 'tis a fault to heaven, 
 A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
 • Way, path. 8 Lowering eyes. 
 
 To reason most absurd ; whose common tlieme 
 Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, 
 From the tirst corse, till he that died to-day, 
 TAw must he sn. We pray you, throw to earth 
 This unprevaiiing woe ; and think of us 
 As of a tather; for let the world take note, 
 You are the most immediate to our throne; 
 And, with no less nobility of love. 
 Than that which dearest father bears his son, 
 Do I impart toward you. For your intent 
 In going back to school in Wittenberg, 
 It is most retrograde^ to our desire : 
 And, we beseech you, bend you to remain 
 Here, in the chetT and comfort of our eye. 
 Our chicfest courtier, cousin, and our son. 
 
 Queen. Let not thy mother lose her praj'ers, 
 Hamlet: 
 I pray thee, stay with us ; go not to Wittenberg. 
 
 Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. 
 
 King. Why, 'lis a lovmg and a "fair reply; 
 Be as ourseif in Denmark. — Madam, come; 
 This gentle and nnforcM accord of Hamlet 
 Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof. 
 No jocund liealth, tliat Denmark drinks to-day, 
 But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ; 
 And the king's rouse' ihe heaven shall bruit"^ again, 
 Re-s]ieaking earthly thunder. Come away. 
 
 [Exeunt King, Qit:en, Lords, ^-c, PoLoxius, 
 and Laertes. 
 
 Ham. 0. that this too too solid flesh would melt, 
 Thaw, and resolve^ itself into a dew ! 
 Or that the Everlasting had not hxed 
 His canon' "gainst self-slaughter! O Ood ! God! 
 How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
 Seem to me all the uses of this world! 
 Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden. 
 That grows to .seed; thingsrank,and gross in nature, 
 Possess it merely. That it should come to this! 
 But two months dead ! — nay, not so much, not two; 
 Si> excellent a king ; that was, to this, 
 Hyperion- to a satyr: so loving to my mother, 
 Tliat lie might not beteem^ the winds of heaven 
 Visit her fiiee too roughly. Heaven and earth ! 
 Must I remember? wliy, she would hang on him 
 As if increase of appetite had grown 
 By what it fed on : And yet, within a month, — 
 Let me not think on't; — Frailty, thy name is 
 
 woman I — - 
 A little monlh ; or ere those shoes were old. 
 With which slie follow'd my poor father's bod}'. 
 Like Niobe, all tears; — why she. even she, — 
 
 heaven ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason. 
 Would have mourn 'd longer, — married with my 
 
 uncle, 
 Aly father's brother; but no more like mj' father, 
 Titan I 10 Hercules: Within a month; 
 ]*^ie yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
 Had lell llie flushing in her galled eyes, 
 Stie married : — O most wicked speed, to post 
 With such dexterity to incestuous slieets ! 
 It is not, nor it cannot come to, good ; 
 But break, my heart: for I must hold my tongue! 
 Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Makcellus. 
 
 Hrr. Hail to your lordship! 
 
 Ham. 1 am glad to see you well: 
 
 Horatio, — or I do forget myself, 
 
 Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant 
 ever. 
 
 Ham. Sir. my good friend; I'll change that name 
 witli you. 
 And what nnike you from Wittenberg, Horatio ? — 
 Marcellus'? 
 
 Mar. My good lord, 
 
 Ham. I am very glad to see j"Ou ; good-even, 
 
 sir. 
 
 But what, in laith, make you from Wittenberg T 
 
 Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. 
 
 Ham. I would not hear your eneiiiy say so : 
 Nor sliall you do mine car that violence, 
 To make it truster of your own report 
 Against yourself: I know, you are no truant. 
 But what is your atliiir in Elsinore 1 
 We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. 
 
 Hor. My lord, I came to seeyour lathei's tuneral 
 
 Ham. 1 pray thee, do not mock me, fellow 
 student ; 
 
 1 think, it was to see my molher's wedding. 
 
 • Contrary. 
 »Law. 
 
 f Draught. 
 » Apollo. 
 
 8 Report. 
 
 9 Eissolve. 
 s Suff*;r. 
 
726 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Hot. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. 
 
 Hum. Thrift, thi ill, Horatio! the funeral-baked 
 meats 
 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
 'Would 1 had met my dearest^ foe in heaven 
 Or ever I had seen that day. Horatio ! — 
 IMy father, — Methinks, I see my father. 
 
 Hor, WJiere. 
 
 My lordl 
 
 liatji. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 
 
 Jlnr. I ?aw him once, he was a g:oodly king, 
 
 Ilam. He was a man, take him tor all in all, 
 1 shall not look upon liis like again. 
 
 Hor. iMy lord, 1 think I saw him yesternight. 
 
 Ham. Saw ! who 1 
 
 Hor. My lord, the king j'our father. 
 
 Ham. The king my father! 
 
 Hor, Season your admiration for a while 
 With an attent-' ear ; till I may deliver, 
 Vpon the witness of these gentlemen, 
 This marvel to you. 
 
 Ham. For God's love, let me hear. 
 
 Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, 
 Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch. 
 In the dead waist and middle of the night, 
 3ieen thus encounlcr'd. A figure like your father, 
 Armed at point, exactly cap-a-pe, 
 Appears bctbre them, and wiili solemn march, 
 Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk'd, 
 By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, 
 Witliin his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd 
 Almost to jelly with the act of fear. 
 Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me 
 ]n dreadful secresy impart they did; 
 And I with them, the third night kept the watch : 
 AVIiere, as they had dehver'd,^botli in time. 
 Form of the thing, each word made true and good. 
 The apparition comes: I knew your father: 
 These hands arc not more like. 
 
 Ham. But where was this? 
 
 Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we 
 watch'd. 
 
 Ham. Dul you not speak to iti 
 
 Hor. My lord, I did; 
 
 But answer made it none: yet once, melhought, 
 ]t lifted up its head, and did address 
 liself to motion, like as it would speak : 
 liut, even then, the morning cock crew loud ; 
 And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, 
 And vamsh'd from our sight. 
 
 Ham. 'Tis very strange. 
 
 Hor. As I do live, my honor'd lord, 'tis true ; 
 And we did think it writ down in our duty, 
 To let you know of it. 
 
 Ham. liideed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. 
 Hold you the watch to-night] 
 
 ^•l//' We do, my lord. 
 
 Ham, ArmM, say you ] 
 
 Aft. Arm'd, my lord. 
 
 Jiom. From lop to toe? 
 
 -■)//. My lord, from head to loot. 
 
 Ham. Then saw you not 
 
 His face? 
 
 H(/r. O. yes, my lord ! he wore his beavei-t> up. 
 
 Ham. What, look'd lie frowningly'! 
 
 Hor. A countenance more 
 
 In sorrow than in anger. 
 
 Ham. Pale, or red 1 
 
 Hor. Nay, very pale. 
 
 Ha?n And fix'd his eyes upon you T 
 
 Hi>r. :Most constantly. 
 
 JIam. I would, I had been there. 
 
 Hor. It would have much amuz'd you. 
 
 Ham. Very like, 
 
 Very like: Stay'd it long? 
 
 Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell 
 a hundred. 
 
 ]\tar. licr. Longer, longer. 
 
 Hor. Not when 1 saw it. 
 
 Ham. His beard was grizzl'd? no? 
 
 Hor. It was, as I have seen it in iiis life, 
 A sable silver'd. 
 
 Ham. I will watch to-night; 
 
 Perchance, 'twill walk again, 
 
 ■^^f^'"- I warrant, it will. 
 
 _ Ham. If it assume my noble liuher'S person, 
 I 11 speak to il, though hell itself should gape, 
 
 * riiit'fest. » Attentive. 
 
 fl TbHt purt of the heliimt whii-h protwts the lower part 
 ol the tV'i:', and may be lifted up. 
 
 And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, 
 If you have hitherto conceaPd this sight. 
 Let it be tenable in your silence still : 
 And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, 
 Give it an understanding, but no tongue; 
 I will requite your loves : So, tare you well : 
 Upon the platlbrm, *tvvixt eleven and twelve, 
 I'll visit you. 
 
 All. Our duty to your honor. 
 
 Ham. Your loves, as mine to you : Farewell. 
 
 [Exeu7it Hon.. Mar., and Ber. 
 My father's spirit in arms ! all is not well : 
 1 doubt some foul play: 'would the night were 
 
 come ! 
 Till then sit still my sou! : Foul deeds will rise. 
 Though all the earth o'er whelm them, to men's eyes. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. — A Room in Polonius's House. 
 
 Enter Laertes atid Ophelia. 
 
 Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell; 
 And, sister, as the winds give benefit. 
 And convoy is assistant, do not sleep. 
 But let me hear from you. 
 
 Oph. Do you doubt that? 
 
 Laer. For Hamlet, and the triding of his favor, 
 Hold It a fashion, and a toy in blood ; 
 A violet in the youth of primy nature. 
 Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, 
 The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; 
 No more. 
 
 Oph. No more but so? 
 
 Laer. Think it no more: 
 
 For nature, crescent,'' does not grow alone 
 In thews,s and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, 
 The iii^ard service of tlie mind and soul 
 Grows wide withal, perhaps, he loves yon now; 
 And now no soil, nor cautel,^ doth besmirch' 
 The virtue of his will: but, you must fear. 
 His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; 
 For he himself is subject to his birth : 
 He may not, as unvalued persons do. 
 Carve lor himself; for on his choice depends 
 The safety and the health of the whole stale ; 
 And theretbre must his choice be circumscribM 
 Unto the voice and yielding of that body 
 Whereof he is the head: Then if he says he loves 
 
 you. 
 It fits your wisdom so far to believe it, 
 As he in his particular act and place 
 May give his saying deed ; wliich is no further 
 Than the main force of Denmark goes withal. 
 Tiien weigh what loss your honor may sustain. 
 If with too credent^ ear you list^ his songs: 
 Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open 
 To his unmaster'd^ importunity. 
 Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; 
 And keep you in the rear of your alliiction, 
 Out of the shot and danger of desire. 
 The chariest maid is ])iodigal enough, 
 If she unmask her- beauty to the moon : 
 Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes: 
 The canker galls the infants of the spring, 
 Too oft belbre their buttons be disclos'd ; 
 And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
 Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
 Be wary then: best safety lies in fear; 
 Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 
 
 Oj)h. I shall the cllect of this good lesson keep, 
 As watchman to my heart: But, good my brother. 
 Do not, as some ungracious pastors do. 
 Show me tiie steep and thorny way to heaven; 
 Whilst, like a pult'd and reckless libertine, 
 Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, 
 And recks not his own lead.^ 
 
 Lae7\ fear me not. 
 
 I stay too long; — But here my father comes. 
 
 Enter Poloxics. 
 A double blessing is a double grace; 
 Occasion smiles upon a second leave. 
 
 Po/. Yet here, Laertes ! aboard, aboard, forshame; 
 Tlie wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, 
 And you are staid for: There, — my blessing with 
 you ; [Laainf; his Hand on Laertes' Kcatt 
 And these few precepts in thy memory 
 
 ' Increasing. 
 1 Diacolor. 
 * Licentious. 
 
 8 Finews. s Subtlety, deceit. 
 
 « lli'lieviug. a Listen to. 
 6 I'-egiiuls not bis own lessons. 
 
Scene IV, 
 
 PRINCE OP DENMARK. 
 
 727 
 
 Look thou char^icter.'' r.ivo lliy thoiiKhlsno tongue, 
 Nor any unproportion'd tliouirht his act. 
 Be Ihnu laniUiar, but by no means vul;iar. 
 The Iriends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
 Grapple tliem to thy soul with hooks of steel : 
 But do nut dull thy palm with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatcli'd, nnlledg'd comrade. Beware 
 Of entrance to a quarrel : but, being in. 
 Bear it, that the opposer may teware of thee. 
 Give every man tliinc ear, but few thy voice : 
 Take each man's censure,' but reserve tliy judg- 
 
 nient. 
 Costly thy habit, as thy purse can buy, 
 But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy: 
 For tlie apparel olt jiroclaims the man; 
 And they in France of the best rank and station, 
 Arc most select and generous,* chiefs ni that. 
 Neither a borrower, nor a lender be : 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend; 
 And borrov\-ing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
 This above all. — To thine ownself be true ; 
 And it must follow, as the night the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man. 
 Farewell; my blessing season' this in thee! 
 
 Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. 
 
 Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants 
 tend.- 
 
 Lnrr. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember wall 
 What I have said to you. 
 
 Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, 
 
 And you yourself shall keep the key of it. 
 
 I.ner. Farewell! [£xi/ L iFKTES. 
 
 Pi)l. What is"t, Ophelia, he hath said io youl 
 
 Vpfi. So please you, something touching the 
 lord Hamlet. 
 
 Pill. Marry, well bethought: 
 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late 
 Given private time on you : and you yours'.-lf 
 Have of your audience been most free and boun- 
 teous : 
 If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me, 
 And that in way of caution,) I must tell you, 
 You do not understand yourself so clearly. 
 As it behoves my daughter,and your honor: 
 What is between you 1 give me up the truth. 
 
 Oph. He hath, my lord, oflate, made many iendTs 
 Of his alTection to me, 
 
 Pfil. Afloction ! Puh ! you speak like a green girl, 
 Unsifted^ in such iierilo'us circninstance. 
 Do you believe his tenders, as you cail them? 
 
 Ciph. I do not know, my lord, what I sliould think. 
 
 Pol. Marry, I'll teach you; think yourself a 
 baby ; 
 That you have ta'cn these tenders for true pa5^ 
 Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more 
 
 dearly ; 
 Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase. 
 Wronging it tluis) you'll tender me a tool. 
 
 Opfi. Mv lord, he hath importun'd me with love 
 In honor-able fashion. 
 
 Pi>f. Ay, fashion you may call it: go to, go to. 
 
 Oph. And halh given countenance to his speech, 
 my lord, 
 With almost all the holy vows of heaven. 
 
 Pol. Ay, sjiringes tocatch woodcocks. Idoknow, 
 When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
 Lends the tongue vows : these blazes, daughter, 
 Giving more light than heat, — extinct in both, 
 p^von in their promise, as it is a-making, — 
 You must not take for lire. From this time 
 Ee son.iewhat scanter of your maiden presence ; 
 Set your entreatments' a't a higher rate. 
 Than to connnand a parley. For lord Hamlet, 
 Believe so much in him. That he is young; 
 And with a larger tether may he w^afk. 
 Than may be given you: In few. Ophelia, 
 Do not Iteiieve his vows, for they are brokers. 
 Not of that die which their investments show, 
 But mere implorators''^ of unholy suits. 
 Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, 
 The better to beguile. This is for all. — 
 I would not, in plain terms, IVom this time forth. 
 Have you so slander any moment's leisure, 
 As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet. 
 Look to't, I charge you ; come your ways. 
 
 Oj)h. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 « ^yl■ife. 1 Opinion. 
 ' Infix. n Wait. 
 
 • Implorers. 
 
 » Noble. 
 
 ' Unteinpted. 
 
 s Cliiefiy. 
 • Company. 
 
 SCENE IV.— TAe Plalfurm. 
 Enter Hamlet, IIoratio, and Marcellus. 
 
 limn. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold. 
 
 Hnr. It is a nipping and an eag^'r* air. 
 
 Hani. What hour now ! 
 
 Hor. I thiiik it lacks of twelve. 
 
 Mar. No, it is struck. 
 
 llor. Indeed 1 I heard it not ; it then draws near 
 the season. 
 Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. 
 
 [A Fltnirkh af Tntnipels, and Ordnance shot 
 off, wilhin. 
 What does tiiis mean, my lord 1 
 
 Ham. The king doth "wake to-night, and takes 
 his rouse,' 
 Keeps wassel,'* and the swaggering np-spring' reels ; 
 And, as he drains liis draughts of P.henisli down. 
 The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out 
 The triumph of his pledge. 
 
 Jior. Is it a custom T 
 
 Ham. .\y, marry, is't : 
 But to my mind, though I am native here. 
 And to the manner born,— it is a custom 
 More honor'd in the breach, than the observance. 
 This heavy-headed revel, east and west, 
 Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations: 
 Theyclepe' us drunkards. and with swinish phrage 
 Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes 
 From our achievcments,thoughperform'd at height, 
 The pith and marrow of our attribute. 
 So oil it chances in particular men. 
 That liir .some vicious mole of nature in tliem, 
 As, in their birth, (wherein they arc not guilty. 
 Since nature cannot choose his origin,) 
 By the o'ergrnwth of some complexion,' 
 Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason; 
 Or, by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens 
 The Ibrm of plausive manners; — that these men, — > 
 Carrying, I say, the stamp of one d',.*fect, 
 Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, — 
 Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace, 
 As intinitc as man may undergo) 
 Shall in the general censure take corruption 
 From that particular tiiult: The dram of base 
 Doth all the noble substance often doul,^ 
 To his own scandal. 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 l]irr. Look, my lord, it comes! 
 
 Ham. Angels and mi nisters of grace defend us^ — 
 Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin dumn'd. 
 Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from 
 
 hell. 
 Be thy intents wicked, or charitable. 
 Thou com'st in such a questionable' shape. 
 That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee. Hamlet, 
 King, father, royal Pane : O, answer me: 
 Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell. 
 Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death. 
 Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre, 
 Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, 
 Ilatli op'd his ponfferous and marble jaws. 
 To cast thee up again ! What may this mean, 
 Tliat thou, dead corse, again in complete steel 
 Uevisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
 Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, 
 So horridly to shake our disposition. 
 With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 
 Say, why is this ! 'wherefore ! what should we do ! 
 
 Hnr. I't beckons you to go away with it,. 
 As if it some impartment did desire 
 To you alone. 
 
 Mar. Look, with what courteous action 
 
 It waves you to a more removed ground: 
 But do not go with it. 
 
 Hor. No, by no means. 
 
 Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. 
 
 Hiir. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, what should be the fear? 
 
 I do not set my life at a pin's fee f 
 And, for my soul, what can it do to that. 
 Being a thing immortal as itself I 
 It waves me forth again; — I'll follow it. 
 
 Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my 
 lord. 
 Or to the dreadful summit of the clifT, 
 6 Sharp. ' .Tovial draught. " .Tonifj. 
 
 9 A d.Tnce. ' Call. * Ilumnr 
 
 3 Do out. « Cunvursal-'le. > \'ulue. 
 
728 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act I. Scene V. 
 
 Tiiat beetles^ o'er his base into tlie sea ! 
 And there assume some other liorritile form, 
 Wtiich mi^ht deprive your sovereic^iity of reason, 
 And draw you into madness! think ol' it; 
 Tile ver>' place puts toys" of desperation 
 AVithout more motive, into every brain, 
 Tliat looks so inany fathoms to the sea, 
 And hears it roar beneath. 
 
 Hatn. It waves me still: — 
 
 Go on, I'll follow thee. 
 
 Mar. You shall not go, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Hold off your hands. 
 
 Hiir. Be rui'd, you shall not go. 
 
 Ham. My fate cries out, 
 
 And makes each petty artery in this body 
 As hardy as the N^m'ean lion's nerve. — 
 
 [Ghost beckons. 
 Still am I call'd; — unhand me, gentlemen ; — 
 
 [Sreakmf; from them. 
 By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets* 
 
 me ; — 
 I say, away ;— Go on, I'll follow thee. 
 
 {Exeunt Ghost and IIamlkt. 
 
 Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. 
 
 Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not tit thus to obey him. 
 
 Hor. Have after: — To what issue will this cornel 
 
 Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. 
 
 Hrrr. Heaven will direct it. 
 
 Mar. Nay, let's follow him. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE X.—A more remote Part of ttte Plutfurm. 
 Re-enter Ghost itnd Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Vv'hither wilt thou lead me! Speak, I'll 
 go no further. 
 
 Gtinst. i\Iark me. 
 
 Ham. I will. 
 
 Ctwit. My hour is almost come, 
 
 AVIicn I to sulphurous and tormenting llames 
 Must render up myself. 
 
 Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! 
 
 Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what X shall unfold. 
 
 Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear. 
 
 Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shall 
 hear. 
 
 Ham. What! 
 
 Ghost. I am thy father's spirit: 
 Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night ; 
 And. for the day, contin'd to first in tires," 
 Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature. 
 Are burnt and purged away. But tliat I am forbid 
 To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
 I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
 Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; 
 Make thj' two eyes, like stars, start from their 
 
 spheres ; 
 Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
 And each particular hair to stand on end 
 Like quills upon the fretful porcui)!ne: 
 But this eternal blazon^ must not be 
 To ears of llesh and blood : — LiSt. list, list ! — 
 If thou didst ever thy dear father love, 
 
 Ham. heaven I 
 
 Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural 
 murder. 
 
 Ham. Murder? 
 
 Ghnst. :\Iurder most fiul. as in the best it is; 
 But tills most foul, s(rang(\ and unnatural. 
 
 Hoot. Haste tnc to know it; that I, with wings 
 as swift 
 As meditation, or the thoughts of love, 
 May sweep to my revenge. 
 
 Ghost. I find thee apt; 
 
 And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed 
 That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 
 Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: 
 'Tis given out, that, sleeping in mine orchard, 
 A serpent stung me: so the whole ear of Detimark 
 Is by a fi)rged process of my death 
 Bankly alius'd; but know, thou noble youth, 
 The serpent that did sting thy father's life 
 Now wears his crown. 
 
 Ham. O, my prophetic soul ! my uncle. 
 
 Ghost. Ay, that incestunus. that adulterate beast, 
 Willi witchcraft of his wit. with trailnrous gifts, 
 (() wicked wit, and gilts, that have the power 
 So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust 
 
 « llan^. 1 Whims. 8 lliuders. 8 Pipphiy. 
 
 The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen: 
 O, Hamlet, what a falling-oirwas there ! 
 From me, whose love was of that dignity, 
 That it went hand-in-hand even with the vow 
 I fnadc to her in marriage ; and to decline 
 Upon a wretch, whose natural gilts were poor 
 To those of mine I 
 But virtue, as it never will be mov'd. 
 Though lewdness court it in a sliape of heaven; 
 So lust, though to a radiant angel liaik'd, 
 Will sate itself in a celestial bed, 
 And prey on garbage. 
 
 But soft! mcthinks I scent the morning air: 
 Brief let me be:— Sleeping within mine orcnard, 
 My custom always of the afternoon. 
 Upon luy secure hour thy uncle stole. 
 With juice of cursed hebenon' in a vial. 
 And in the porches of mine ears did pour 
 The Icperous distilment : whose ellcct 
 Holds such an enmity with blood of man, 
 That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through 
 The natural gates and alleys of the body; 
 And, with a sudden vigor, it doth posset 
 And curd, like eager droppings into milk. 
 The thin and wholesome blood ; so did it mine; 
 And a most instant tetter bark'd about. 
 Most lazar-like,- with vile and loathsome crust, 
 All my smooth body. 
 Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand. 
 Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch's :' 
 Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 
 Unhousel'd,-" disappointed,^ unaneled -fi 
 No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
 With all my imperfections on my head : 
 0, hoiTible ! 0, horrible ! most horrible ! 
 If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; 
 Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 
 A couch for luxury and damned incest. 
 But, howsoever thou pursucst this act. 
 Taint not tliy mind, nor let thy sold contrive 
 Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven. 
 And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge. 
 To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once ! 
 The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, 
 And 'gins to pale his inelR'ctual fire : 
 Adieu, adieu, adieu ! remember me. [Exit. 
 
 Ham. all you host of heaven ! earth ! What 
 
 else ! 
 And shall I couple hell !— fye !— Hold, hold, my 
 
 heart ; 
 And you, my sinews, grow not instant old. 
 But bear me stiffly np!— Remember thee? 
 Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat 
 In this distracted globe.' Remember thee ! 
 Yea, from the table of my memory 
 I'll wipe away all trivial fond lecords. 
 All sawss of books, all forms, all pressures past. 
 That youth and observation copied there; 
 And thy commandment all alone shall live 
 Within the book and volume of my brain, 
 Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven. 
 O most pernicious woman ! 
 
 villain, villain, smiling, damned villain ! 
 My tables,' — meet it is, I set it down. 
 
 That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; 
 At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark : 
 
 [ IVrltins* 
 So, uncle, there you are. Now to iny word ; 
 It is. Adieu, adieu ! remember me. 
 
 1 have sworn't. 
 
 Jii}r. [ Within.] My lord, my lord,— 
 
 Mar. [IVi/hin.] Lord Hamlet,- 
 
 }t(jr. [ll'iMm.] Heaven secure him. 
 Hooi. So be it. 
 
 Mar. [ Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord ! 
 Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy I come, bird, come. 
 
 Enter HonAxto and JNIarcellus. 
 Mar. How is't, my noble lord ! 
 Hiir. What news, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. wonderful! 
 
 ■""'■. Good, my lord, tell it. 
 
 Ham. No ; 
 
 You will reveal it. 
 Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven. 
 > Henbane. a Leprous. s Cereft. 
 
 • V\"itliout having received the sacrament. 
 
 * rnappriinted. unprepared. 
 
 6 Witlinut extreme unction. ' Head. 
 
 8 Sajiufjs, sentences. b Memorandum-book- 
 
Act II. Scene I. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMAEK. 
 
 729 
 
 Mar. Nor I. my lord. 
 
 Jl!i/i. How say you, then : would heart of man 
 once think it I — 
 But you'll he secret, 
 
 IHar. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my lord. 
 
 Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all 
 Denmark, 
 But he's an arrant knave. 
 
 hur. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from 
 tile grave, 
 To tell us this. 
 
 Hum. Why, right; j'ou are in the right; 
 
 And so, without more circumstance at all, 
 I hold it lit, that we shake hands, and part : 
 You, as your husiness,and desire,shall point you; — 
 For every man hath business, and desire. 
 Such as it is; — and, for my own poor part, 
 Look you, I \\ill go pray. 
 
 Hur. These are but wild and whirling words, 
 my lord. 
 
 Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, 
 'Faith, heartily. 
 
 Hur. There's no offence, my lord. 
 
 Hum. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is. Horatio, 
 And much offence too. Touching this vision here, 
 It is an honest gtiost, that let me tell you ; 
 For >our desire to know what is between us, 
 (i'cr-master it as you may. And now, good friends. 
 As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, 
 Give me one poor request. 
 
 Hor. What is't, my lord % 
 
 We will. 
 
 Ham. Never make known what you have seen 
 to-night. 
 
 Hur. Mar. ily lord, we will not. 
 
 Hum, Nay, but swear't. 
 
 Hur. ' In faith, 
 
 My lord, not I. 
 
 Mar. Nor T, my lord, in faith. 
 
 Ham. Upon my sword. 
 
 Mar. '\\q have sworn, my lord, already. 
 
 Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. 
 
 GImst. [Beneath.'] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Ha, ha, boy ! say'st thou so ? art thou 
 tliere, true-penny T 
 Come on, — you hear this fellow in the cellerage, — 
 Consent to swear. 
 
 Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Never to speak of this that you have 
 seen. 
 Swear by my sword. 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Hie et ubique?'- then we'll shift our 
 ground : — 
 Come hither, gentlemen. 
 And lay your iiaiids again upon my sword: 
 Swear by my sword. 
 Never to speak of this that you have heard. 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear'hy his sword. 
 
 Ham. Well said," old mole I canst work i' the 
 earth so fast! 
 A worthy jiioncerl — Once more remove, good 
 friends. 
 
 HffT. O day and night, but this is wondrous 
 strange I 
 
 Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. 
 There are more things in heave* and earth, 
 
 Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 
 
 But come; 
 
 Here, as before, never, so help you mercy ! 
 
 How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself. 
 
 As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet 
 
 To put an antic disposition on, — 
 
 That you, at such times seeing me, never shall. 
 
 With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake, 
 
 Or by pronouncingof some doubtful phrase. 
 
 As, tVell. well, we know; — or. We coubi. an if u-e 
 
 would ; — or, If we list to speak ; — or. There be, an 
 
 if they might : — 
 
 Or such ambiguous giving nut, to note 
 
 That you know aught of me; — This do you swear, 
 
 So grace and merrv at your most need help you ! 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath."] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit ! So, gentle- 
 men. 
 With all my love I do commend me to you : 
 .-Vud what so poor a man as Hamlet is 
 May do. to express his lovo and friending to you, 
 God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; 
 And still \our lingers on your lips, I pray. 
 The time is out of joint; — cursed spite ! 
 That ever I was born to set it right! 
 Nay, come, let's go together. ' [Eiewtt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— A Room in Polonius's House. 
 Enter Polonh's ami Reynmldo. 
 
 Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Rey- 
 
 naldo. 
 Rey. I will, my lord. 
 
 Pot. Vou shall do marvellous wisely, good Rey- 
 naldo. 
 Before you visit him, to make inquiry 
 Of his behavior. 
 Rey. My lord, I did intend if. 
 
 Pol. Marry, well said: very well said. Look 
 you. sir. 
 Inquire me first what Danskers' are in Paris ; 
 And how, and who, what means, and where they 
 
 keep. 
 What company, at what expense; and finding, 
 By this cncompassment and drift of question. 
 That they do know my son, come you more nearer 
 Than your particular'demands will touch it: 
 Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of 
 
 him : 
 As thus, — I know hut father, and hli friends. 
 And, in part, him; — Do you mark this, Reynaldo? 
 Rcji. Ay, very well, my lord. 
 Pol. And, in part, him; — but, you may say, not 
 well: 
 But. if't be he I mean, he''s very wild ; 
 Addicted so and «o,— and there" put on him 
 What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank 
 As may dishonor him ; take Jieedof that: 
 But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips. 
 As are companions noted and most known 
 To youth and liberty. 
 Rey. As gaming, my lord. 
 
 » Panes. 
 
 Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quar- 
 relling. 
 Drahbing; — You may go so far. 
 
 Rey. y\y lord, that'would dishonor him. 
 
 Pol. 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the 
 charge. 
 You must not put another scandal on him. 
 That he is open to iiicnnttnency ; 
 That's not my meaning; but breathe his faults so 
 
 quaintly. 
 That they may seem tlie taints of liberty : 
 The fiasii and outbreak of'a tiery mind; 
 A savageness in unreclaimed blood, 
 Of general assault, 
 
 Rey. But, my good lord, 
 
 Pot. Wherefore should you do this '! 
 
 Rey. Ay, my lord, 
 
 I would know that. 
 
 Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift ; 
 
 And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant: 
 You laying these slight sullies on my son. 
 As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, 
 Mark you, 
 
 Your ijarty in converse, him you would sound, 
 Having ever seen in the prenominate^ crimes. 
 The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assured, 
 He closes w'lth you in this consequence ; 
 Good sir, or .so ; nr friend, or gentleman, — 
 According to the phrase, or the addition, 
 Of man, and country. 
 
 Rey. Very good, my lord. 
 
 Pot. And then, sir, does he'this, — He does^ 
 What was I about to say ! — By the mass, I was 
 about to say something:— Where did I leave! 
 
 Rey. At, closes in the consequence. 
 * Here and evtrj'where. ' Ahcady named. 
 
730 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Pol. At, closes in the consequence, — Ay, marry; 
 He closes with you thus:— / Avioiu the scnltenian; 
 I saw him yesterdai/, iir Vother day. 
 Or then, or then; u4lh siich,m-fuch ; and, as you say, 
 There ivas he gaming; there u'erlooli in his rmise; 
 There fatting out at tennis: ur, perchance, 
 I saiv him enter such a fiouse a} sate, 
 (Videlicet, a brotliel,) or so forth. — 
 See you now ; 
 
 Your l)ait of falseljood takes this carp of truth: 
 And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, 
 With windlaces, and with assays of bias, 
 Dy indirections find directions out; 
 So, liy my (brmer lecture and advice. 
 Shall you my son: You have me, have you not? 
 
 Rey. My lord, I have. 
 
 Pol- Cod be wi' you; fare you well. 
 
 liey. Good, my lord, 
 
 Pot. Observe liis inclination in yourself. 
 
 Rey. I shall, my loid. 
 
 Pot. And let hiin ply his music. 
 
 Re It- Well, my lord: [Exit. 
 
 Enter Ophelia. 
 
 Pot. Farewell.'— How now, Ophelia? what's the 
 matter? 
 
 Oj}li. Q. my lord, my lord, I have been so af- 
 friiihted ! 
 
 Pol. With what, in the name of heaven? 
 
 Opti. My lord, as 1 w.is sewing in my closet, 
 Lord Hamlet,— with his doublet all unbraced; 
 No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, 
 Un^arter'd, and down-gyved-i to his ankle; 
 Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; 
 And with a look so piteous in purport. 
 As if he had been loosed out of hell, 
 To sjieak of horrors, — he conies before mc, 
 
 Pol. Mad liDr thy love ? 
 
 Oph. My lord, I do not know ; 
 
 But, truly, I do fear it. 
 
 Pol. What said he ? 
 
 Opii. He look mc by the wrist, and hold me hard; 
 Then goes he to the length of all his arm ; 
 And with his other hand thus o'er his brow, 
 He (alls to such perusal of my flice. 
 As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so; 
 At last,— a litlle shaking of mine arm. 
 And thrice his head thus waving up and down, — 
 He rais'd a sigh so piteous and proJbund, 
 As it did seem to shallcr all his bulk. 
 And end Ins being : That done, he lets me go; 
 And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd. 
 He seem"d to hud his way without his eyes; 
 For out of doors ho went without their lielps, 
 And, to the last, bended their light on me. 
 
 Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king. 
 This is Ihe very ecstasy of love; 
 ^Vhose violent properly foredoes'' itrelf. 
 And leads the will to desperate undertakings, 
 As oil .as any passion under heaven, 
 Tliat docs atliict our natures. I am sorry. — 
 What, have you given him any hard words of late? 
 
 Oph. No, my good lord: but, as you did com- 
 mand, 
 I did repel his letters, and denied 
 His access to me. 
 
 Pot. That hath made him mad. 
 
 I am sorry, that with better heed and ludgment, 
 I had not quotede him : I lear'd, he did hut trifle. 
 And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew mv jea- 
 lousy! ' ■' 
 It seems, it is as proper to our age 
 To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, 
 As it is common for the younger sort 
 To lack discretion. Comc» go we to the king; 
 This must be known; which, being kept close, 
 
 might move 
 More grief to hide, than hate to utter love. 
 Come. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— yl Room in the Cnslle. 
 Enter Ki.\G, Qceex, Rosexcrantz, Guildensteen, 
 and Atlondants. 
 King. Welcome, dear Roscncrantz, and Guilden- 
 stern ! 
 Moreover that we much did long to see you. 
 The need, we have to use you. did provoke 
 Our hasty sending. Somcihing have you heard 
 * Ilulighig down liko fotturs. t DL-stroys. 8 obsorved. 
 
 Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it, 
 Since not the exterior nor the inward man 
 Resembles that it was: What it should be. 
 More than his father's death, that thus hath put 
 
 him 
 So much from the understanding of himself, 
 I cannot dream of: I entreat you both. 
 That,— being of so young days brought up with 
 
 him; 
 And, since, so neighbor 'd to his youth and hu- 
 mor, — 
 That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court 
 Some little time: so by your companies 
 To draw him on to pleasures; and lo gather. 
 So much as from occasion you may slcaii. 
 Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts hira thus, 
 That, open'd, lies within our remedy. 
 
 Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of 
 you; 
 And, sure I am, two men there are not living. 
 To whom he more adheres. If it will please you 
 To show us so much gentry, andgood will, 
 As to expend your time with us awhile, 
 For the supply and profit of our hope. 
 Your visitation shall receive such (hanks 
 As hts a king's remembrance. 
 ,,-"''*• , Both your majesties 
 
 Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, 
 Put your dread pleasures more into command 
 Than to entreaty. 
 
 Ouit. But we both obey; 
 
 And here give up ourselves, in the full bent;' 
 To lay our service freely at your feet. 
 To be commanded. 
 
 King. Thanks, Kosencrantz, and gentle Guilden- 
 stern. 
 
 Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Kosen- 
 crantz : 
 And I beseech you instantly to visit 
 My too much changed son.— Go, some of you, 
 And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. 
 
 Guil. Heavens make our presence, and our prac- 
 tices. 
 Pleasant and helpful to him ! 
 
 Queen. Ay, amen ! 
 
 [Exeunt Rosexcrantz, Guildenstern, 
 and some Attendants. 
 
 Enter Polosius. 
 
 Pot. The ambassadors from Norway, my good 
 lord. 
 Are joyfully return'd. 
 
 King. Thou still hast been the father of good 
 news. 
 
 Pol. Have I, my lord ? Assure you, my good 
 liege, 
 I hold my duty, as I hold my soul. 
 Both to my God, and to my gracious Idng: 
 And I do think, (or else this brain of mine 
 Hunts not the trail* of policy so sure 
 As it hath used to do,) that I have lound 
 The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. 
 
 King. O, speak of that: that do I long to hear. 
 
 Pot. Give hrst admittance to the ambassadors; 
 My news shall be the fruit to that great least. 
 
 A'(«ff. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them 
 „ , ,, '"■ , [E.i-it PuLoxius. 
 
 He tells mc, my dear Gertrude, he hath (bund 
 The head and source of all your son's dislemper. 
 
 Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main . 
 His liither's death, and our o'er-hasty marriage. 
 
 Re-enter Poloxius, with Voltisiand a7td 
 
 CoRXELIUS. 
 
 King. Well, we shall sift him.— Welcome, my 
 good tWends ! 
 Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway ? 
 
 Volt. Most lair return of greetings, and desires. 
 Upon our tirst, he sent out to suppress 
 His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd 
 To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack ;» 
 Hut, better look'd into, he truly found 
 II was against your highness: Whereat griev'd, — 
 That so his sickness, age, and impotence. 
 Was (iilsely borne in hand,' — sends out arrests 
 On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; 
 Receives rebuke from Norway ; and, in fine, 
 J\Iakes vow before his uncle, never more 
 To give the assay of arms against your m,ajesty. 
 
 1 Utmost exertion, s gccut. » Pckiuil. i IuipoaL>d on. 
 
SCEXE II. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 31 
 
 Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, 
 Gives him three tliousand crowns in annual fee; 
 And his commission to employ those soldiers, 
 So levied as before, against the Polack: 
 With an entreaty, herein further shown, 
 
 [ Gives a Paper. 
 That it mi^ht please you to give quiet pass 
 Through your dominions tor this enterprise; 
 On such regards of salely, and allowance, 
 As lijerein are set down. 
 
 King. It likes us well : 
 
 And, at our more considcr'd lime, we'll read, 
 Answer, and think upon this business. 
 Mean time, we thank you tor your well-took labor: 
 Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: 
 Most welcome home ! 
 
 {Exttmt VOLTIMAND m^d CoRN'Ki-irs. 
 
 PoL Tliis business is well ended. 
 
 My liege, and madam, to expostulatc- 
 What majesty should be. wliat duty is. 
 Why day is diiy, night, night, and time is time, 
 Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time, 
 TJierefore, — since brevity is the soul of wit, 
 And lediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, 
 I will be brief; Your noble son is mad : 
 Alad call I it : for, to define true madness. 
 What isH, but to be nothing else but mad ? 
 But let that go. 
 
 Queen. More matter with less art. 
 
 PoL Madam. I swear I use no art at all. 
 That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true, 'tis pity; 
 And pity 'tis 'tis true: a Ibolish figure ; 
 But larewell it, for I will use no art. 
 Mad let us grant him tlien: and now remains, 
 That we find out the cause of this etiect; 
 Or. rather say, the cause of this defect ; 
 For tliis effect, detective, comes by cause: 
 Thus it remains, and tlic remainder thus, 
 perpend. 
 
 I have a daughter ; have, while she is mine ; 
 Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, 
 Hatii given iiie tliis: Now gather and surmise. 
 — To ike cr/i'.sfia/, and iittj souPs idol, the most 
 
 heuufijied Ophtlia, 
 
 That's an lU plu'ase, a vile phrase ; beautyied is a 
 vile phrase; but you shall hear. — Thus: 
 
 III htr excellent wkite hoHim, fkese, S^c. — 
 
 Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? 
 
 Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faith- 
 ful. — 
 Doubt thou, the f-fars are fire; [Reads. 
 
 Doubt, that the nun dutti /nave: 
 Doubt irutk to be a liar ; 
 But never d/iubt, I love. 
 
 dear Ophelia, / urn ill at these numbers ; I 
 have not art to reckon nt;/ groans ; but that I love 
 thee be&tf O nto-st best, betieve it. Adieu. 
 
 Tfiine evermore, tnnst dear lady, whilst 
 this machine is to him, Hamlet. 
 This in obedience, hntii my daughter shown me: 
 And more above, hatli his solicitings. 
 As they fell out by time, by means, and place, 
 All given to mine ear. 
 
 King. But how hath she 
 
 Received Iiislove? 
 
 Pol. What do you think of mel 
 
 King. As of a man laithful and honorable. 
 
 Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might 
 you think. 
 When I liad seen this hot love on the wing, 
 (As I perceiv"d it. I must tell you that, 
 lieforo my dauirhter told me,) what might you, 
 Or my dear m;ijesty your queen here, think, 
 If I had play'd the desk, or table-book; 
 Or given my hear* a working, mute and dumb ; 
 Or look'd upon this love wiih idle sight ; 
 Wiiat might you tliink ] no, 1 went round^ tffwork, 
 And my youiig mistress thus did I bespeak: 
 Lord hamlet is a 2^'ince out of thy sphere; 
 This must not be: and then I precepts gave her, 
 That she should lock herself from his resort. 
 Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. 
 Wliich done, she took the fruits of my advice; 
 And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make,) 
 Fell into a sadness ; then into a fast ; 
 Thence to a watch ; thence into wealmess; 
 TJience to a lightness; and, by this declension. 
 Into the madness wherein now he raves, 
 And all we mourn lor. 
 
 3 Discuss. » Roundly, without reserve. 
 
 King. Do you think, 'tis this 7 
 
 Queen. It may be, very likely. 
 
 Pol. Hath there been such a "time, (I'd fain know 
 that,) 
 That I have positively said, 'Tifi 50, 
 Wlien it proved otherwise I 
 
 King. Not that I know. 
 
 Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise: 
 
 [Pointing to his Head and Shoulder. 
 If circumstances lead me, I will find 
 Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 
 Within the centre. 
 
 King. How may we try it further! 
 
 Pol. You know sometimes he walks for hours 
 together. 
 Here in the lobby. 
 
 Queen. So he does, indeed. 
 
 Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to 
 him; 
 Be you and I behind an arras then; 
 Mark the encounter: it he love Iier not. 
 And l)e not trom his reason lallen thereon, 
 Let me be no assistant for a state, 
 But keep a liirm, and carters. 
 
 King. We will try it. 
 
 Enter Hamlet, reading. 
 
 Queen. But look, where sadly the poor 'wretch 
 comes reading. 
 
 Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away: 
 I'll board him presently : — O, give me leave. — 
 
 [Exeunt Kino. Queen, and Attendanta 
 How does my good lord Hamlet ! 
 
 Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy. 
 
 Pol. Do you know me, my lord! 
 
 Ham. Excellent well; yoa are a fishmonger. 
 
 PoL Not I, my h>rd. 
 
 Ham. Tiien I would you were so honest a man. 
 
 Pol. Honest, my lord I 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes 
 is to be one man picked out often thousand. 
 
 PoL That's very true, my lord. 
 
 Ham. For if tlie sun breed maggots in a dead 
 
 dog, being a god, kissing carrion, Ha\c you a 
 
 daughter ? 
 
 Pol. 1 have, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun : conception'* is 
 a blessing ; hut not as your daughter may conceive,^ 
 — friend, look to't. 
 
 Pol. How say you by that) [Aside.] Still harp- 
 ing on my daughter: — yet he knew me not at first; 
 he said, I was a fishmonger: He is lUr gone, far 
 gone: and, truly in my youth 1 sufiered much ex- 
 tremity for love : very near this. FU speak to him 
 again. — What do you read, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Words, words, words ! 
 
 PoL What IS the matter, my lord 1 
 
 Hunt. Between wiio f 
 
 PoL I mean the matter Ihat you read, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rof^^ue says 
 here, that old men have grey beards; tiiat tiieirliices 
 are wrinkled ; their eyes purging thick amber, and 
 plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful 
 lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of 
 which, sir, tliough I most powerfully and potently 
 believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus 
 set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, 
 if, like a crab, you could go backward. 
 
 PoL Though' this be madness, yet there's method 
 in it. [.-I^i'/e.] Will you waikoutoftheair, my lord! 
 
 Ham. Into my ^ruvc ? 
 
 PoL Indeed, ihat is out o' the air. — How preg- 
 nanfi sometimes his replies are! a happiness that 
 olfen madnes-s hits on, which reason and sanity 
 could not so prosperously be delivered of. 1 will 
 leave Jiim, and suiidenly contrive the means of 
 meeting between Jiim and my daughter. — My 
 lionorable lord, I will most humbly take my leave 
 of you. 
 
 Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing 
 that I will more willingly part withal; except my 
 lite, except my lite, except my lile. 
 
 Pol. Fare you well, my lord. 
 
 Ham. These tedious old fools! 
 
 Enter Rosencrantz and Guildexstern. 
 PoL You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is 
 Ros. God save you, sir! [To PoLONirs. 
 
 [Exit FoLONita. 
 < Understacding. e Ke preg^caut. e Ready, apt. 
 
732 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Gull. My honored lord !— 
 
 Ros. Mv most dear lord ! — 
 
 Hum. Mv excellent good friends ! How dost 
 thou, Guildenstenx ! Ah, Rosencrantz ! Good lads, 
 how do ye both 1 
 
 R(fs. As the indifferent children of the earth. 
 
 Guil. Happy, in that we are not over happy; 
 On Ibrtune's cap wc are not the very button. 
 
 Htna. Nor the soles of her shoe ] 
 
 Jilts. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Ihnn. Then you live about her waist, or in the 
 middle of her favors? 
 
 Guil. 'Faith, her privates we. 
 
 Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? 0, most 
 true ; she is a strumpet. What news ? 
 
 Ros. None, my lord : but that the world is 
 grown honest. 
 
 Ham. Then is doomsday near: But your news 
 is not true. Let me question more in particular: 
 What have you, my sood friends, deserved at the 
 hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison 
 hither? 
 
 GuiL Prison, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Denmark's a prison. 
 
 Hiifi. Tiien is the world one. 
 
 Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many 
 conlines, wards, and dungeons; DenmarJi being 
 one of the worst. 
 
 Riis. We think not so, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, then. His none to you; for there is 
 nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it 
 so : to me it is a prison. 
 
 Ros. Why, ihen your ambition makes it one ; 'tis 
 too narrow "for your mind. 
 
 Ham. OGod! I could be hounded in a nut-shell, 
 and count myself a king of infinite space; were it 
 not tliat I have bad dreams. 
 
 GuiL Which dreanis, indeed, arc ambition; for 
 the very substance of the ambitious is merely the 
 shadow of a dream. 
 
 Ham. A dream itself is bnt a shadow. 
 
 Ra&. Truly, aiid I iiold ambition of so airy and 
 light a quality, that it is but a shadow''s shadow. 
 
 Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our 
 monarchs, and outstretchM heroes, the beggars' 
 shadows: Sliall we to the court ? for, by my tay, I 
 cannot reason. 
 
 Riis. Gail. We'll wait upon you. 
 
 Ham. No such matter: I wi'll not sort you with 
 the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like 
 an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. 
 But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make 
 you at Elsinore? 
 
 Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. 
 
 Ham. Beggar that 1 am. I am even poor in 
 thanks; hut I thank you: and sure, dear friends, 
 my tiianks are too dear, a halfpenny. ^Vere you 
 not sent for ! Is it your own inclining? Is it a free 
 visitation! Conic, come; deal justly with me: 
 come, come ; nay, speak. 
 
 Gail. What should we say, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Any thing — but to the purpose. You 
 were sent tor, and there is a kind of confession in 
 your looks, which your modesties have not craft 
 enough to eolnr: I know the good king and queen 
 have sent lor yon. 
 
 Ros. To what end, my lord? 
 
 Ha/n. That you must teach me. But let me 
 conjure you by iJic rights of our fellowship, by the 
 consonahcy of' our youth, by the obligation of our 
 ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a bet- 
 ter proposer could charge you withal, be even and 
 direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no? 
 ' Ros. What say you ? [To Gi'iL den stern. 
 
 Haai. Nay, theii I have an eye of you ; [Aside.] 
 — if you love me, hold not off. 
 
 Gi/U. My lord, we were sent for. 
 
 Haat. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipa- 
 tion prevent your discovery, and your secresy to 
 the king and queen moult no feather, I have of 
 late, (but wherefore. I know not,} lost all my 
 niirtli, forgone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, 
 it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this 
 goodly iViune, the e:irth, seems to me a sterile pro- 
 montory : this most excellent canopy, the air, look 
 you, tins brave oVrhanging firmament, this majes- 
 tical roof fretted with golden tire, why, it apjiears 
 no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent 
 congregation of vapors. What a piece of work 
 is man! IIow noble in reason! how inrtnite in 
 
 faculties! in form and moving, how express and 
 admirable! in action, how like an angel! in ap- 
 prehension, how hke a god! the beauty of the 
 world ! the paragon of animals ! And yet, to me, 
 what is this quintessence of dust? man delights 
 not me, — nor woman neither; though by your 
 smiling you seem to say so. 
 
 Ros. My lord, there is no such stuflf in my 
 thoughts. 
 
 Hata. Why did you laugh then, when I said, 
 Man flelif^hfs not me? 
 
 Ros. To think, my lord, if you itlight not in 
 man, what lentcn" entertainment the players shall 
 receive from you: we cotedJ^ them on the way; 
 and hither are they coming, to otfer you service. 
 
 Hum. He that plays the king, shall be welcome; 
 his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adven- 
 turous knight shall use his foil and target: the 
 lover shall not sigh gratis: the humorous man shall 
 end his part in peace: the clown shall make those 
 laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the 
 lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse 
 shall halt for't. — What players are they? 
 
 Ros. Even those you were wont to take such 
 dcliiiht in, the tragedians of the city. 
 
 Ham. How chances it they travel? their resi- 
 dence, both in reputation and protit, was better both 
 ways. 
 
 R(/s. I think their inhibition comes by the means 
 of tile late nmovation. 
 
 Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they 
 did when I was in the city? Are they so fol- 
 lowed ? 
 
 Ros. No, indeed, they are not. 
 
 Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? 
 
 Ros. Nay, their endeavor keeps in the wonted 
 pace : But there is, sir, an aiery of children, little 
 cyases,9 that cry out on the top of question, • and 
 are most tyrannically clapp'd for't : these are now 
 the fashion; and so berattle the common stages, 
 (so they call them,) that manj'. wearing rapiers, 
 are afraid of goose-qulUs, and dare scarce come 
 hither. 
 
 Ham. What, are they children? who maintains 
 them? how are they escoted ?^ Will they pursue 
 the quality^ no longer than they can sni .' will 
 they not say afterwards, if they should grow them- 
 selves to common players, (as it is most like, if 
 their means are no better,J their writers do them 
 wrong, to make them exclaim against their own 
 succession ? 
 
 Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both 
 sides ; and the nation holds it no sin. to tarre' them 
 on to controversy: there was, for a while, no money 
 bid lor argument, unless the poet and the player 
 went to culls in the question. 
 
 Ham. Is it possible? 
 
 Guil. 0, there has been much throwing about 
 of brains. 
 
 Ham. Do the boys carry it away ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and 
 his load, too.^ 
 
 Ham. It is not very strange: for my uncle is 
 king of Denmark, and those, that would make 
 mouths at liim while my lather lived, give twenty, 
 Ibrty, fitly, an hundred ducats a-piece, lor liis pic- 
 ture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this 
 more than natural, if philosophy could tind it out. 
 • [Flourish of 'Trumpets, wUhin. 
 
 Guil. There are the players. 
 
 Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Klsinore. 
 Your hands. Come'then: the appurtenance of 
 welcome is lashion and ceremony: let me coniplyS 
 with you in tliisgarb ; lest myexfi'nt to the p]a>ers, 
 whicii, I tel! you. must sliow liiirly outward, sln)uld 
 more appear hke entertainment than yours. You 
 are welcome; but my uncle-father, and aunt- 
 mother, are deceived. 
 
 Gui/. In what, my dear lord. 
 
 Ham. I am but mad north-northwest: when 
 the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hand- 
 saw. 
 
 Enter Polonics. 
 
 ±:)iter colonics. 
 
 Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen ! 
 Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern; — and you too: 
 i,Sparo. 8 OviTtook. » Young iiL'sllnigR. 
 
 *'l)iaI<'guo. '^ I'nid. 3 Profession. « rrovoko. 
 > i'. «'. The globe, the sigu of i:hakspeare*s tlieatro. 
 6 CompliiueEit. 
 
Scene II, 
 
 PKINCE OF DENMAKK. 
 
 733 
 
 — at each ear a hearer; that great baby, you see 
 there, is not yet out of his swaddling-elouts. 
 
 Ros. Happily, lie's the second time come to them ; 
 for they say an old man is twice a child. 
 
 Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of 
 the players; mark it. — You say right, sir: o' Mon- 
 day morning ; 'twas then, indeed. 
 
 Poi, My lord, I have news to tell you. 
 
 Ham. lily lord, I have news to tell you : When 
 Roscius was an actor in Rome, 
 
 Put. Tlie actors are come hither, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Buz, buz! 
 
 Pol. Upon my honor, 
 
 Ham. Then came each actor nn his ass, 
 
 Pol. The best actors in the world, either for 
 tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comi- 
 cal, historical-pastoral, [tragical-historical, tragical- 
 comical-historical-pastoral,] scene individable, or 
 poem unlimited; Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor 
 Plautus too light. For the law of writ' and the 
 liberty, these are the only men. 
 
 Ham. O Jeph/hah. Judge of Israel, — vfhat a 
 treasure hadst thou ! 
 
 Pol. Wliat a treasure had he, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Why— One fair daughter, and no more. 
 The which he laved passing well. 
 
 Pol. Still on my daughter. [Aside. 
 
 Ham. Am I not in the right, old Jephthah ? 
 
 Pol. It you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a 
 daughter, that 1 love passing well. 
 
 Ham. Nay, that follows not. 
 
 Pol. What Ibllows then, my lord ? 
 
 Hum. Why, As by lot, God wot, and then you 
 know, // came to pass, As most like it was,— The 
 first row of the pious chansons will show you 
 more ; lor look, my abridgment comes. 
 Enter fmr or five Players. 
 You are welcome, masters; welcome all; — I am 
 glad to see thee well :— welcome, good triends ;— 
 O, old friend ! Why, thy face is valanced^ since I 
 saw thee last; Coin'st thou to beard mc in Den- 
 mark !— What ! my young lady and mistress! 
 By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than 
 when 1 saw you last by the altitude of a chopine.i 
 Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrcnt 
 gold, be not cracked within the ring.— Masters,you 
 are all welcome. We'll e'en to it like French fal- 
 coners, fly at any thing we sec; We'll have a 
 speech straight : Come, give us a taste of your 
 quality ; come, a passionate speech. 
 
 1 Play. What speech, my lordl 
 
 Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, — 
 but it was never acted;— or, if it was, not above 
 once; lor the play, I remember, pleased not the 
 million; 'twas caviare^ to the general ;3 but it 
 was (as I received it and others, whose judgments, 
 in such matters, cried in the top' of mine) an ex- 
 cellent play; well digested in the scenes, set down 
 with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, 
 one said, there were no salads in the lines, to make 
 the matter savory; nor no matter in the phrase, 
 that might indilei the author of allection ;« but 
 called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, 
 mid by very much more handsome than fine. One 
 speech in it I chiefiy loved ; 'twas ^llneas' tale to 
 Dido ; and thereabout of it especially, where he 
 speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live"in your me- 
 mory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see:— 
 The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcaniun beast,— 
 'tis not so ; it begins with Pyrrhus. 
 The rugged Pyrrhus,— he, u-hose sable arms. 
 Black OS his purjiose, did the night resemble 
 H'hen he lay couched in the omfnou.'i horse, 
 JIalh now I his dread and black complcxiini smear'd 
 H'ilh heraldry more dismal; head to foot 
 Now is he total gules;' hnrridty trick d"^ 
 With blood if fathers, nnithers, daughters, sons; 
 Baked and. im/iasted with ttie parching streets. 
 That lend a tyrannous and a damned light 
 To Ihiir lord's murder: Roasted in wralh, and fire. 
 Anil thus li'er-.sized ivith coagulate gore. 
 With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus 
 Old grundsire Priam seeks ;— So proceed you. 
 
 Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good 
 accent, and good discretion. 
 
 1 WriliDg. 8 Christmas-carols. « Fringed. 
 
 ' Cloj. 5 An Italian dish made of the roes of fishes. 
 ■ Multitude. 4 Above. » Convict. 
 
 • Affectation. i Ked, a term in heraldry. ' lilazoned. 
 
 1 Play. Anon he finds him, 
 
 Striking too stwrt at Greeks; his antit/ue sword, 
 Rebellious to his arm, lies rchere it falls. 
 Repugnant to command : Unequal match'd, 
 Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes wide; 
 But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword 
 The iinnerv'd father falls. Then seiLieless Ilium, 
 Seeming to feel this bltnu, ivith flaming top 
 Stoops to his base ; and wit/i a liideoas crash 
 Takes prvioner Pyrrlius^ ear; for, lo t his sword. 
 Which was declitiing on tlie milky head 
 Of reverend Priam, seem'd P the air to stick: 
 So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood ; 
 And, like a neutral to his will and mutter. 
 Did nothing. 
 
 But, as we often see, against some storm, 
 A silence in the heavens, the rackS> stand stilt, 
 The bold winds .speechless, and the orb below 
 As hush as death : anon the dreadful thunder 
 Doth rend tlie region : so, after Pyrrhus' pause, 
 A roused vengeance sets him new a-work ; 
 And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall 
 On Mars's armor, forged for proof eterne^ 
 With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword 
 Now falls on Priam. — 
 
 Out, out, thou strumpet. Fortune! All you gods. 
 In general synod, take away her power ; 
 Break all the spokes and fellies Jrom her wlieel. 
 And bowl the round nave down the kill of heaven, 
 As low as to the fiends ! 
 
 Pol. This is too long. 
 
 Ham. It shall to the barber's with your beard. 
 — Pr'yihee, say on : — He's lor a jig, or a tale of 
 bawdry, or he sleeps: — Say on; come to Hecuba. 
 
 1 Play. But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled^ 
 queen 
 
 Ham. The mobled queen ? 
 
 Pol. That's good ; mobled queen is good. 
 
 1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, tltreat'ning 
 the flames 
 With btsson^ rheum ; a clout upon that head 
 Where late the diadem .stood ; and, for a robe. 
 About her lank and all o'trtccmed loins, 
 A bhiiiket, in the alarm of fear cauglit up ; 
 Who this liad seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, 
 'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pro- 
 
 nounced : • 
 
 But if tlie gods themselves did see her then. 
 When she saw Pyrrhus make maliciuus .sport 
 In mincing with his sword her husband's linibsf 
 The instant burst of clamor that she mailf, 
 [Unless things mortal move them not at all,) 
 Would have made m itch' the burning eye of heaven. 
 And passifni in the gods. 
 
 Pol. Look whether he has not turn'd his color, 
 and h.as tears in's eyes. — Pr'ythee, no more. 
 
 Ham. 'Tis well; Til have thee speak out the 
 rest of this soon. Good my lord, will jou see the 
 players well bestowed ] Do you hear, let them be 
 well used; for they are llie abstract, and brief 
 chronicles, of the time; After your death you were 
 betterlmve a bad epitaph, than their ill report while 
 you live. 
 
 Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their 
 de.serl. 
 
 Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better; Use 
 every man alter his deserl, and who shall 'scape 
 whij>ping \ Use them arter your own honor and 
 digniiy: The less they deserve, the more merit is 
 in your bounty. Take them in. 
 
 Pol. Come, sirs. 
 
 [E.rit PoLONirs. with some rf the Players. 
 
 Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to- 
 morrow. — Dost thou hear me. old friend; can you 
 play the murder of Gonzago I 
 
 1 Play. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. We'll have it to-morrow night. Y'ou could, 
 for a need, study a sjieech of some dozen or six- 
 teen lines, which I would set down, and insert in't: 
 could you not ? 
 
 1 Play. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Very well.— Follow that lord; and look 
 you mock him not. [Exit Player.] My good friends, 
 [To Ros. and GciL.J I'll leave you till night: yon 
 are welcome to Elsinore. 
 
 Ros. Good my lord ! 
 
 [Exeunt Rosexcraktz and GtnLDENSTEHV. 
 
 Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you: — Now I am 
 alone. 
 » Light clouds. 'Eternal, o Muffled. "Blind. « Milky 
 
34 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act III 
 
 O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 
 
 Is it not monstrous, that this player liere, 
 
 But in a fiction, in a dream of passion. 
 
 Could force his soul so to his own conceit, 
 
 Tliat from her working all his visage wann'd ; 
 
 Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, 
 
 A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
 
 With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothuig ! 
 
 For Hecuba ! 
 
 What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
 
 That he should weep for herf What would he do, 
 
 Had he tiie motive and tiie cue for passion, 
 
 Tliat I have ] He would drown the stage with tears, 
 
 And cleave the general car with horrid speech ; 
 
 Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, • 
 
 Conlound the ignorant ; and amaze, indeed, 
 
 The very faculties of eyes and cars. 
 
 Yet I, 
 
 A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
 
 Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
 
 And can say nothing ; no, not Ibr a king, 
 
 Upon whose property, and most dear iiie, 
 
 A damn'd deleat^ was made. Am I a coward 1 
 
 Who calls me villain 1 breaks my pate across? 
 
 Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face] 
 
 Tweaks me by the nosel gives me the lie i' the 
 
 throat. 
 As deep as to the lungs'! Who does me this ] 
 Ha! 
 
 Wiiy. I should take it : for it cannot be, 
 But 1 ain pigeon-liver'd, and lack gail 
 
 To make oppression bitter; or, ere this, 
 
 I should have fatted all the region kites 
 
 With this slave's oftal : ^loody, bawdy villain ! 
 
 Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, tindless.o vil 
 
 Jain! 
 Why, what an ass am 1 1 This is most brave; 
 That I, the son of a dear father murder'd. 
 Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell. 
 Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, 
 And fail a cursing, like a very drab, 
 A scullion ! 
 Fye upon't! fob! About my brains! Humph! 1 
 
 have heard, 
 That guilty creatures, sitting at a play. 
 Have by the very cunning of the scene 
 Been struck so to the soul, that presently 
 They have proclaim'd their malefactions; 
 For murder, ttiough it have no tongue, will speak 
 With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players 
 Play something like the murder of my father, 
 Bctbre mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; 
 I'll tent himi to the quick; if he do blench,^ 
 I know my course. Tlie spirit, that I have seen, 
 May be a devil: and the devil hath power 
 To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and, perhaps, 
 Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, 
 (As he is very potent with such spirits,) 
 Abuses me to damn me ; I'll have grounds 
 More relative than this: The play's the thing 
 Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ noom in the Castle. 
 
 Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosen- 
 CRANTZ, and Gdildenstern. 
 
 King. And can you, by no drift of conference, 
 Get from him,^why he puts on this confusion; 
 Graiing so harshly all his days of quiet 
 With turbulent and dangerous lunacy 1 
 
 Hus. He does confess, he feels himself distracted; 
 But from what cause he will by no means speak. 
 
 Guil. Nor do we lind him forward to be sounded; 
 But witfi a crat>y madness, keeps aloof. 
 When we would bring Jiim on to some confession 
 Of his true state. 
 
 Queen. Did he receive 5'ou welll 
 
 Hus. Most like a gentleman. 
 
 Guil. But with much ibrcing of his disposition. 
 
 Ras. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, 
 Most free in his reply. 
 
 Queen. Did you assay him ■ 
 
 To any pastime? 
 
 lios. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players 
 We o'er-raught^ on the way : of these we told hira: 
 And tiiere did seem in him a kind of joy 
 To hear of it: They are about tlie court; 
 And, as I think, they iiave already order 
 This night to play belbrc him. 
 
 P"L 'Tis most true: 
 
 And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties 
 To hear and see the matter. 
 
 King. With all my heart; and it doth much 
 content me 
 To hear him so inclin'd. 
 Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, 
 And dri\e his purpose on to these delights. 
 
 Jias. We shall, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt Rusencuantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too: 
 
 For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither; 
 That he, as 'twere by accident, may here 
 AllVont" Ophelia: 
 
 Her father, and myself, (lawful espials,^) 
 Will so bestow ourselves, that seeing, unseen. 
 We may of their encounter frankly judge; 
 And galher by him. as he is behaved, 
 If't be the afllietion of his love or no, 
 Tlint thus he sutlers Jbr. 
 
 Queen. I shall obey you: 
 
 And Ibr your part, Ophelia, I do wish, 
 That your good beauties be the happy cause 
 Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope, your virtues 
 
 » Dtstruotion. « Overtook. ' lleet. s Spies. 
 
 Will bring him to his wonted way again, 
 To both your honors. 
 
 Oph. Madam, I wish it may. 
 
 [ k:xi/ QrEEN. 
 
 Pol. Ophelia, walk you here: — Gracious, so 
 please you. 
 We will bestow ourselves: — Read on this book; 
 
 [To Ophelia. 
 That show of such an exercise may color 
 Your loneliness. — We are oil to blame in this, — 
 'Tis too much prov'd,^ — that, with devotion's visage, 
 And pious action, we do sugar o'er 
 The devil himself. 
 
 King. 0, 'tis too true ! how smart 
 
 A lash that speech doth give my conscience! 
 The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, 
 is not more ugly to the thing that helps it. 
 Than is my deed to my most painted word: 
 heavy burden ! [As-ide, 
 
 Pol. I hear him coming; lefs withdraw, my lord. 
 [Exeunt King and PoLOMua. 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Hatn. To be, or not to be, that is the question: — 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suHl-r 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 
 Or to lake arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And, by opposing, end them I — To die, — to 
 
 sleep, — 
 No more ; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
 The heart-ache, and the tliousand natural shocks 
 That llesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wishM. To die; — to sleep: — 
 To sleep! perchance to dream; — ay, there's the 
 
 rub; 
 For in tliat sleep of death what dreams may com,e, 
 When we have shuffled otF this mortal coil,'* 
 Must give us pause: There's the respect,^ 
 That makes calamity of so long life ; 
 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. 
 The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con- 
 tumely,** 
 The pangs of dcspis'd love, tlie law^'s delay. 
 The insolence of oHice, and the spurns 
 That patient merit of tlic unworthy takes, 
 When iie himself might his quietus' make 
 With a hare bodkin Is* Who would fardels^ bear, 
 To grunt and sweat under a weary life; 
 But tliat the dread of something atler death, — 
 
 " rnnatural. " Seiirrb his wouudt;. 
 
 a Shrink or start. ■ Too frfiueut. * Stir, bustle. 
 
 » ConsiUeratiou. e Kudi-ni'ss. i Quiet. 
 
 8 The ancient term for a small dagger. • I'ack, burclen. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 735 
 
 The imdiscover'd country, from whose bourni 
 No tiavcller returns, — puzzles the will; 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
 Than fly to other* that we know not of! 
 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
 With this rej^ard, their currents turn awry, 
 And lose the name of action. — Soft you, now I 
 The fair Ophelia;— Nymph, in thy orisons^ 
 Be all my sins remembered. 
 
 Oph. Good my lord, 
 
 How does your honor for this many a day ] 
 
 Ham. I humbly thank you; well. 
 
 Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours, 
 That I have longed long to re-deliver; 
 I praj' you, now receive tiiem. 
 
 Huju. No, not I: 
 
 I never gave you aught. • 
 
 0})}i. My lionor*d lord, you know right well, you 
 did; 
 And, with Ihem. words of so sweet breath composM 
 As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, 
 Take the^^e again; for to the noble mind, 
 Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind. 
 There, my lord. 
 
 ihnn. Ha. ha ! are you honest? 
 
 Ovh. My lord! 
 
 Bam. Are you fair] 
 
 Oph. What means your lordship ? 
 
 Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should 
 admit no discourse to j'our beauty. 
 
 Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better com- 
 merce than with honesty ! 
 
 Bam. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty ^vill 
 sooner trnnsforin honesty from what it is to a bawd, 
 than the force of honesty can translate beauty into 
 bis likeness; this was some time a paradox, but 
 now Ihe time gives it proof. I did Jove you once. 
 
 Opk. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. 
 
 Hum. You shuuhl not have believed me: for 
 virtue cannot so innculale our old stock, but we 
 shall relish of it: I lov'd you not. 
 
 Oph- 1 was tlie more deceived. 
 
 Ham. Get thee to a nunnery : Why wouldst thou 
 be a breeder of sinners ? I am myself indiiferent 
 honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, 
 that it were better my mother had not borne mc; I 
 am very proud, revengeful ambitious; with more 
 ollences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put 
 tliem in, imagination to give them shape, or time to 
 act them in: What shtuild such fellows as I do 
 crawling between earth and heaven? Wearearrant 
 knaves, all; believe none of us: Go thy ways to a 
 nuiHiery. Where's your father? 
 
 Oph. At home, my lord. 
 
 Sium. Let the doors be shut upon him ; that he 
 may i)hiy the fool nowhere but in 's own house. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Opk. O. help Jiim, you sweet heavens! 
 
 Ham. Ifthoii dost many, I'll give thee this plague 
 for thy dowry : He thou as chaste as ice, as pure as 
 snow, thou snalt not escape calumny- Get thee to 
 a inmnery; farewell: Or, if thou wilt needs marry, 
 marry a fool; for wise men know well enough, 
 what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, 
 go; and quickly too. farewell, 
 
 Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him! 
 
 Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well 
 enough; God bath given you one face, and you 
 make yourselves another : you jig, you amble, and 
 you lisp, and nick-uame God's creatures, and make 
 your wantonness your ignorance: Go to; Til no 
 more oft; it hath made me mad. I say, we will 
 have no more marriages: (hose that are married 
 already, all but one, shall live ; the rest shall keep 
 as tJiey are. To a nunnery, go. 
 
 [Exit- Hamlet. 
 
 Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown I 
 The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, 
 
 sword : 
 The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 
 Tlie glass of fashion, and the mould of form. 
 The observed of all observers ! quite, quite down ! 
 And I. of ladies most deject and wretched, 
 That suckVI the honey of his music vows. 
 Now see that noble and most sovereign reason. 
 Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; 
 ' Bouudaryj limits. a Prayers. 
 
 That unmatch'd form and feature of blo^'n youth, 
 
 Blasted with ecstasy :'^ 0, woe is me ! 
 
 To have seen what I have seen, see what I see ! 
 
 Re-enier King and Polonics. 
 
 Kifig. Love! his atlections do not that way tend, 
 Nor what he spake, though it lack'd tbrm a little. 
 Was not like madness. There's something in his 
 
 soul, 
 o'er which his melancholy sits on brood ; 
 And. I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose, 
 Will be some danger: Which for to prevent, 
 I have, in quick determination, 
 Thus set it down ; He shall with speed to England, 
 For the demand of our neglected tribute: 
 Haply, the seas, and countries dilierent, 
 With variable objects, shall expel 
 This something-settled matter in his heart; 
 Whereon his brains, still beating, puts him thug 
 From fashion of himself. What think you on't? 
 
 Pol. It shall do well: but yetl do believe, 
 The origin and commencement of his grief 
 Sprung from neglected love. — How now, Ophelia? 
 You need not fell us what lord Hamlet said; 
 'We heard it all.— My lord, do as you please; 
 But. if you hold it lit, aiXcr the play, 
 Let his queen juother all alone entreat him 
 To show his grief; let her be round' with him; 
 And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear 
 Ofall their conference: Ifshe find him not. 
 To England send him: or confine him, where 
 Your wisdom best shall think. 
 
 King. It shall be so : 
 
 Madness in great ones must not unwalch'd go. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE II.— .-I Hall in ihe same. 
 Enter H.<vjilet and certain Players. 
 
 Ham. Sjieak the speech, I pray you. as I pro- 
 nounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but 
 if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had 
 as lief the town-crier spoke my lines." Nor do not 
 saw tlie air loo much wilh your hand, thus; but 
 use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, 
 alid (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you 
 must acquire and beget a temperance, that may 
 give it smootlmess. O, it olTends me to the soul, to 
 hear a robustious pcriwig-pated fellow tear a pas- 
 sion to tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of tho 
 groundlings;^ who, for the most part, are capable 
 of nothing but inexplicable duml) shows and noise; 
 I would have such a lellow whipt for o'er-doing 
 Termagant; it oul-herods Herod:'' Pray you, 
 avoid it. 
 
 1 Play. I warrant your honor. 
 
 Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your oi;\'n 
 discretion be vour tutor: suit the action to the 
 word, the word to the action; wilh this special 
 observance, that you o'er-step not the modesty of 
 nature : for any thing so overdone is from the pur- 
 pose of playing, whose end. both at the first, and 
 now, was, and is. to hold, as *twere, the mirror up 
 to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn 
 her own image, and the very age and body of the 
 time, his form and pressure."? Is'ow this, overdone, 
 or come tardy otT, though it make the unskilful 
 laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the 
 censure of which one. must, in your allowance,* 
 o'er-weigh a whole theatre of olliers. O, there be 
 players, that I liavc seen play, — and heard others 
 praise, and that highly. — not to speak it profanely, 
 that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor 
 the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so 
 strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some 
 of nature's journeymen had made men, and not 
 made them well, they imitated humanity so abomi- 
 nably. 
 
 1 Play. I hope, we have reformed that indif- 
 ferently with us. 
 
 Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those, 
 that play your clowns, speak no more than is set 
 down tb'r them : for there be of them, that will 
 themselves laugh, to set. on some quantity of barren 
 spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, 
 
 3 Alien:^tion of mind. 
 
 * Keprimaiiii liiui with freedom. 
 
 s The uieiiiuT penple then seem to have sat in tho pit. 
 
 6 lleiod's chiiracter was always violent. 
 
 ' Impression, resemblance. • ^pprobatioo. 
 
736 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act III. 
 
 some necessary question of the play be then to be 
 considered: tliat's villanous; and shows a most 
 pitiful ambition in tlie fool that uses it. Co, make 
 you ready. [i:j:eimi Players. 
 
 Enter PoLOSius, Rosencrajjtz, and Gcilden- 
 
 STERS. 
 
 How now, my lord ? will the king hear this piece 
 of work 1 
 Pol. And the qiiecn too, and that presently. 
 Ham. Bid the players make haste.— 
 
 [JCjcU Polonius. 
 Will you two help to hasten them 1 
 Bo/h. Ay, my lord. 
 
 [f:xeunt RosENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. 
 Ham. What, ho ; Horatio ! 
 
 Enter Horatio. 
 
 Hnr. Here, sweet lord, at vour service. 
 
 Ham. Horatio, thou art eVn as just a man 
 As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. 
 
 Hor. 0, my dear lord, 
 
 Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter: 
 
 For what advancement may I hope from thee, 
 That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits. 
 To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor 
 
 be rtatler'd ? 
 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ; 
 And crook the preRnanls hinges of the knee. 
 Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? 
 Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, 
 And could of men distinguish her election. 
 She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been 
 As one, in suCTeVing all, that suffers nothing ; 
 A man. that fortune's bullets and rewards 
 Hast la'en with equal thanks : and bless'd are those 
 Whose blood and judgment are so well co-minglcd, 
 That tliey are not a pipe for fortune's flngcr 
 To sound what stop she please : Give me that man 
 That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
 In my heart's core, ay, in uiy heart of heart. 
 As I do thee. — Something too much of this. — 
 There is a play to-night before Ihc king ; 
 One scene of it comes near the circumstance, 
 Which I have told thee of my father's death. 
 I pr'ythee, when thou see'st that act albot, 
 Even with the very commentof thy soul 
 Observe my uncle: it his occulted' guilt 
 Doth not itself unkennel in one speech, 
 It is a damned giiost that we have seen; 
 And my imaginations are as tbul 
 As Vulcan's stithy.2 ("live him heedful note: 
 For I mine eyes will rivet to his tace : 
 And, after, we will bolh our judgments join 
 In censure^ of his seeming. 
 
 Hiir. Well, my lord: 
 
 If he steal aught, the whilst this play is playing, 
 And 'scape delecting, I will pay the theft. 
 
 Ham. They are coming to the play; I must be 
 idle: 
 Get you a place. 
 
 Danisli March. A Flourish. Enter King, Qiteex, 
 PoLoNius. Ophelia, IIosencrantz,Guildensteum, 
 and others. 
 
 King. How fares our cousin Hamlef! 
 
 Ham. Excellent, i'faith ; of the camclion's dish : 
 I eat the air, promise-crammed : You cannot feed 
 capons so. 
 
 King. I have nothing with this answer, Ham- 
 let ; these words are not mine. 
 
 Ham. No, nor mine now. My lord, — you played 
 once in.the university, you say ? [T^o Polonius. 
 
 Pol. That did 1, my lord : and was accounted a 
 good actor. 
 
 Ham. And what did you enact? 
 
 Pol. I did enact .lulius Cssar; I was killed i'the 
 Capilol; Brutus killed me. 
 
 Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capi- 
 tal a calf there. — Be the players ready ? 
 
 7?'w. Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience. 
 
 Queen. Come hither, my dear Hanilet, sit by me. 
 
 //(/M. No, good mother, here's metal more at- 
 tractive. 
 
 Pol. Oho! do you mark that ? [ To the King. 
 
 Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap T 
 
 {Lying duivn at Ophelia's Feet. 
 
 • Quick, ready. 
 
 a A stithy is a smith's shop. 
 
 * Secret. 
 
 * Opinion. 
 
 Oph. No, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap. 
 
 0]ih. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Do you think, I meant country matters t 
 
 Ojili. I think nothing, my lord. 
 
 Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' 
 legs. 
 
 Oph. What is, my lord? 
 
 Hani. Nothing. 
 
 Oph. Vou are merry, ray lord. 
 
 Ham. Who, 1? 
 
 Oph. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. 0! your only jig-maker. What should a 
 man do, but be merry? for look you, how cheer- 
 fully my mother looks, and my father died within 
 these two hours. 
 
 Oph. Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord. 
 
 Ham. So long ? Nay, then let the devil wear 
 black, for I'll have a suit of sables.^ heavens ! 
 die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then 
 there s hope, a great man's memory may outlive 
 his life half a year : But, by'r-lady. he must build 
 churches then : or else shall he suffer not thinking 
 on, with the hobby-horse; whose epitaph is, j"or 
 O, fur, 0, the hobby-horse is forgot. 
 
 Trumpets sound. The dumb Show follows. 
 
 Enter a King and a Queen, verij lovingly ; the 
 Queen embracing him, and he fier. She' kneels 
 and makes show nf protestation unto him. He 
 takes her up, and declines his heal upon her 
 neck; lai/s him down upon a liank I'ffnwers; 
 she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anvn co?nes 
 in a fellow, takes off his crown, ki.sses it, and 
 p<^irs poison in the King's ears, and e.vif. The 
 Queen returns; finds the King dead, and makes 
 passiimate action. The Poisoner, with some two 
 or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to 
 lament tcith her. The dead body is carried 
 away. The Poisoner woos tlie Queen udth 
 gij'ts; she seems loath and unwilling aivhile, 
 but, ill the end, accepts his lore. [E.xeunt. 
 
 Oph. What means this, my lord ? 
 
 Ha/a. Marry, this is michihg mallecho ;5 it means 
 mischief. 
 
 Oph. Belike, this show imports the argument of 
 the play. 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 
 Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the pla3-ers 
 cannot keep counsel ; they'll tell all. 
 
 Oph. Will he tell us what this.show meant? 
 
 Ilam. .A.y, or any show that you'll show him: 
 Be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to 
 tell you what it means. 
 
 Oph. You are naught, you are naught; I'll mark 
 the play. 
 
 Prfj. For us- and for our tragedy. 
 
 Here stooping to your clemency, 
 IVe beg your hearing patiently. 
 
 Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring ? 
 
 Ofih. 'Tis brief, my lord. 
 
 Hum. As woman's love. 
 
 Enter a King and a Queen. 
 P. King. Full thirty times hath Phrebus' cart 
 
 gone round 
 Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus'6 orbed ground; 
 And thirty dozen moons, with borrowed sliecn,^ 
 About the world have times twelve thirties been; 
 Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, 
 Unite commutual in most sacrtd bands. 
 P. Queen. So many journeys may the sun and 
 
 moon 
 Make us again count o'er, ere love be done ! 
 But, woe is me, you are so sick of late. 
 So far from cheer, and from your former state, 
 That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, 
 Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must : 
 For women fear loo much, even as they love; 
 And women's fear and love hold quantity; 
 In neither aught, or in extremity. 
 Now, what my love is, proof hath made you 
 
 know: 
 And as my love is siz'd,^ my fear is so. 
 
 * Tli(« richest dress. » Secret wickedness. 
 
 8 Tliti earth. ' Shining, lustr*j. 
 
 8 lu proportion to the extent of my love. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 PIIINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 737 
 
 Where love is great, Ihe littlest doubts are fear; 
 Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. 
 
 P. Kinf;. 'Kaitli, I must leive tliee, love, and 
 siiortly too; 
 My operanf^ powers their functions leave to do ; 
 And thou slialt live in this fair world behind, 
 Honor'd, bclov'd; and, haply, one as knid 
 For husband slialt thou 
 
 P. Queen. O, confound the rest! 
 
 Such love must needs be treason in my breast; 
 lu second husband let nie be accurst! 
 None wed the second, but who killM the first. 
 
 Ham. Tiiat's wormwood. 
 
 P. Queen. The instances,' that second marriage 
 move, 
 Are base respects of thrift, but none of love ; 
 A second time I kill my husband dead, 
 W"hen second husband kisses nie in bed. 
 
 P. King. I do believe, you think what now you 
 spciik ; 
 But, what we do determine, oft we break. 
 Purpose is but the slave to memory; 
 Of violent birth, but poor validity : 
 Wliich now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree; 
 But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. 
 Most necessary His^^hat we Ibrget 
 To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt: 
 Wiiat to ourselves in passion we propose. 
 The passion ending, dotii the purpose lose. 
 The violence of either grief or joy 
 Their own enactures^ with themselves destroy: 
 Where joy most revels, grief dolli most lament; 
 Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. 
 This world is not for aye ; nor 'tis not strange, 
 That even our loves should with our fortunes 
 
 change ; 
 For 'tis a question left us yet to prove. 
 Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. 
 The great man down, you mark, his favorite ilies; 
 The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. 
 And hitherto doth love on fortune tend : 
 For who not needs, shall never lack a friend ; 
 And who in want a hollow friend doth try, 
 Directly seasons him liis enemy. 
 But, orderly to end where I begun, — 
 Our wills, and fates, do so eontr:lry run, 
 That our devices still are overthrown ; 
 Our thoughts arc ours, their ends none of our own: 
 So think tliou wilt no second husband wed ; 
 But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead. 
 
 P. Queen. Nor earth to give me food, nor 
 heaven light ! 
 Sport and repose lock from me, day and niglit ! 
 To desperation turn my trust and hope ! 
 An anchor's^ cheer in prison be my scope ! 
 Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy. 
 Meet what I would have well, and it destroy ! 
 Both here, and hence, pursue me, lasting strife, 
 If, once a widow, ever I be wife ! 
 
 Ihim. If she sliould break it now, 
 
 [To OpHEr.iA. 
 
 P. Kmg. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me 
 here awhile ; 
 My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile 
 The tedious day with sleep. ' [Sleeps. 
 
 P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain ; 
 
 And never come mischance between us tw'ain! 
 
 [ Exit. 
 
 Ham. Madam, how like you this play ! 
 
 Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinlis. 
 
 Hum. O, but slie'U keep her word. 
 
 King. Have you heard the argument 1 Is there 
 n.^ ollence in't] 
 
 Ham. No. no, they do but jest, poison in jest; 
 no oflence i' the world. 
 
 King. What do you call the play ? 
 
 Ham. The Mouse-trap ^ Marry, how' Tropi- 
 cally. This play is the image of a murder done 
 in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wile, 
 Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish ])ieco 
 ol work: But what of that? your majesty, and we 
 that have free souls, it touches us not : Let the 
 galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.— 
 
 Enter Luciant's. 
 This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. 
 Oph. Vou are as good as a chorus, my lord. 
 • .ictive. * Motives. » Dettrniinnfions. a Anchoret 
 
 * Ihetliini; 
 
 In which he'll c;itth thi3 conscience of the king. 
 47 
 
 Ham. I could interpret between yon and your 
 love, if 1 could .see the pupijets dallying. 
 Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. 
 Hum. It would cost you a groaning, to take off 
 my edge. 
 
 Oph. Still better, and worse. 
 Hum. So you mistake jour husbands.— Begin, 
 murderer;— leave thy damnable liices, and begin. 
 
 Come ; 
 
 The croaking raven 
 
 Doth bellow for revenge. 
 Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and 
 time agreeing ; 
 Confederate season, else no creature seeing; 
 Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, 
 With Hecate's bani thrice bkisted, thrice infected, 
 Thy natural magic, and dire property. 
 On wholesome life usurp immediately. 
 
 [Puurs ihe Poinon into Ihe S'/ef;ier's Ears. 
 Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. 
 His name's (lonzago : the story is extant, and writ- 
 ten in very choice Italian : You shall see anon, how 
 the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wile. 
 Oph. The king rises. 
 Ham. Wihat! frighted with false fire] 
 Queen. How fares my lord ] 
 Pill. Give o'er the play. 
 King. Give me some iiglit:— away ! 
 Pol. Lights, lights, lights ! 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Hamlkt ami Horatio. 
 Ham. Why, let the struckcn deer go weep, 
 The halt ungalled play : 
 For some must watch, while some must sleep; 
 Thus runs the world away. — 
 Would not this, sir, and a forest of leathers, (if Ihe 
 rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me,) with two 
 Proveucial roses on my razed^ shoes, get me a tel- 
 lowship in a cry' of players, sir '.' 
 Hur. Haifa share. 
 Ham. A whole one, I. 
 For thou dost know, Damon dear. 
 
 This realm dismantled was 
 Of Jove himself; and now reigns here 
 A very, very— peacock. 
 Hnr. Y'ou might have rhymed. 
 Ham. O good Horatio, I'll lake the ghost's word 
 for a thousand pound. Didst perceive ? 
 Hnr. \'ery well, my lord. 
 
 Hem. Upon the talk of the poisoning, 
 
 Hnr. I did very well note liini. 
 Ham. Ah, ah 1— Come, some music; come, the 
 recorders.*^ — 
 
 For if the king like not the comedy. 
 
 Why then, belike,— he likes it not, perdy.'— 
 
 Enter Rosexcraxtz and Gcildexsteex. 
 Come, some music. 
 
 Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with 
 you. 
 
 Ham. Sir, a whole history. 
 
 Gail. The king, sir, 
 
 Hain. Ay, sir, what of him ? 
 
 Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distem- 
 pered. 
 
 Hani. With drink, sir ! 
 
 (lui.l. No, my lord, wiih choler. 
 
 Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more 
 richer, to signify this to tiic doctor; for, for me to 
 put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge 
 him into more choler. 
 
 Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some 
 frame, and start not so wildly from my atlair. 
 
 Ham. I am tame, sir: — pronounce. 
 
 Guil. The queen, your mollier, in most great 
 affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. 
 
 Ham, You are welcome. 
 
 Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of 
 the right breed. If it sliull please you to make me 
 a wholesome answer, 1 will do your mother's com- 
 mandment: if not. jour pardon, and my return, 
 shall be the end of my business. 
 
 Hani. Sir, I cannot. 
 
 Guil. What, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's 
 diseased: Hut. sir, such answer as I can make, yon 
 shall command ; or, rather, as you say, my mother : 
 therefore no more, but to the matter: iM'y mother, 
 you say, 
 
 * Curse. 6 Slashed. 
 
 •A kind of flute. 
 
 ' Pack, company. 
 » Par Dku. 
 
38 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act m. 
 
 Ilos. Then thus she says; Your Liehavior hath 
 struck her into amazement and admiration. 
 
 Ham. O wondertui son, tliat can so astonish a 
 molher!— But is there no sequel at the lieels of 
 this mother's admiration' impart. 
 
 lius. She desires to speak with you in her closet, 
 ere you fro to hed. 
 
 Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our 
 mother. Have you any further trade with us ? 
 
 Ron. My lord, you oiice did love me. 
 
 Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers. 
 
 Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of dis- 
 temper ? you do, surely, but bar the door upon 
 your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your 
 li lend. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. 
 
 Uos. How can that be, when you have the voice 
 of the kiui; himself lor your succession in Denmark? 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir, liut, \Vhile the grass gruivs, — the 
 proverb is something musty. 
 
 Enter the Players, ivi/h Recorders. 
 O, the recorders: — let me see one. — To withdraw 
 with you : — Why do you go ahout to recover the 
 wind of me, as if you would drive me iflfto a toil ! 
 
 Giiil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my 
 love is too unmannerly. 
 
 Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you 
 play upon tliis pipe ■ 
 
 GuU. My lord, I cannot. 
 
 Ham. I pray you. 
 
 a (til. Believe me, I cannot. 
 
 Ham. I do beseech you. 
 
 GuU. I know no touch of it, my lord. ■ 
 
 Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying; govern these vcn- 
 tagcsi with your lingers aiid thumb, give it breath 
 with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent 
 music. Look you, these are the stops. 
 
 Gull. But these cannot I command to any utter- 
 ance of harmony ; I have not the skill. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing 
 you make ot'me ! You would play upon me ; you 
 would seem to know my stops; you would pluck 
 out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me 
 from my lowest note to the fop of my compass : and 
 there is much music, excellent voice, in this little 
 organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do 
 you Ibiiik. I am easier to be played on than a pipe ! 
 I'iill uie what instrument you will, though you can 
 I ret me. you cannot play upon me. 
 
 Enter PoLoxics. 
 God bless you, sir ! 
 
 Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, 
 and iiresently. 
 
 Hani. Do you see yonder eloud, that's almost in 
 shape of a camel ? 
 
 Vol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed. 
 
 Ham. Melhinks, it is like a weasel. 
 
 Pal. It is backed like a weasel. 
 
 Ham. Or, like a whale 1 
 
 Pal. Very like a whale. 
 
 Hum. Then will I come to my mother by and 
 by. — They tool me to the top of my bent.^ — I will 
 come by and by. 
 
 Pul. I will say so. [Exit PoLONius. 
 
 Ham. By and by is easily said. — Leave me, 
 
 friends. [ Exeunt Ro.s., Gitil., Hor., \c. 
 
 'Tis now the very witching time of night; 
 
 When churchyards yawn.and hell itself breathes out 
 
 Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot 
 
 blood. 
 And do such business as the bitter day 
 Would quake to look on. Soft: now to my 
 
 mother.— 
 O. heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever 
 The soul of Nero enter this lirm bosom : 
 Let me be cruel, not unnatural : 
 I will speak daggers to her, but use none; 
 My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites: 
 How in my words soever she be slient,^ 
 To give them seals' never, my soul, consent ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE in.— ^ Rnom in the same. 
 
 Enter Kinb, Roskn'ciiantz, atid Guildenstern. 
 
 King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us. 
 To let liis madness range. Theri'lbre, jirepare you ; 
 I your commission will tbrtbwith despatch, 
 
 ' llclcs. ^ ftiii'^st strotch. 3 Itc'prOTed. 
 
 * Autliorify to put tbum iu ci^ovution. 
 
 And he to England shall along with you: 
 The terms of our estate may not endure 
 Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow 
 Out of his lunes.^ 
 
 Guil. We will ourselves provid?: 
 
 Most holy and religious fear it is. 
 To keep those many many bodies safe, 
 That live, and feed, upon your majesly. 
 
 Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound, 
 With all the strength and armor of the mind. 
 To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more 
 That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest 
 The lives of many. Tite cease of majesty 
 Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
 What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel, 
 Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, 
 To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser thmgs 
 Are mortis'd and adjoin'd ; which, when it falls, 
 Each small annexment, petty consequence. 
 Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone 
 Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. 
 
 King. A rm you , I pray you , to this speedy voyage ; 
 For we will i(?tters put upon this fear. 
 Which now goes too free-footed. 
 
 Ros. Guil. We will haste us. 
 
 [Exeunt RosencrantZ o«rf Guildenstern. 
 
 Enter Polonius. 
 
 Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: 
 Behind the arras I'll convey myself. 
 To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him 
 
 home : 
 And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 
 'Tis meet that some more audience, than a mother, 
 Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhcar 
 The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege; 
 I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, 
 And tell you what I know. 
 
 King. Thanks, dear my lord. 
 
 [El-it POLONIUB. 
 
 0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; 
 It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, 
 
 A brolher's murder! — Pray can I not. 
 
 Though inclination be as .sharp as will; 
 
 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; 
 
 And, like a man to double business^bound, 
 
 I stand in pause where 1 shall first begin. 
 
 And both neglect. What if tliis cursed hand 
 
 Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? 
 
 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens. 
 
 To wash it white as snow] Whereto serves mercy, 
 
 But to confront the visage of oflence ? 
 
 And what's in prayer, but this twolbld force, — 
 
 To be forestalled, ere we come to tiill. 
 
 Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; 
 
 My liiult is past. But, O, what form of prayer 
 
 Can serve my turn 1 Forgive me my foul murder !— 
 
 That caimot be; since I am still possess'd 
 
 Of those etrects for which I flid the murder. 
 
 My crown, mine own ambition, and mv queen. 
 
 May one be pardon'd, and retain the ollence ! 
 
 In the corrupted currents of this world. 
 
 Offence's gikled hand may shove by justice* 
 
 And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 
 
 Buys out the law : But 'tis not so above : 
 
 There is no shuffling, there the action hes 
 
 In his true nature; and we ourselves compcll'd, 
 
 Even to the teeth and Ibrehead of our faults. 
 
 To give in evidence. What then ? what rests! 
 
 Try what repentance can: What can it not ! 
 
 Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? 
 
 O wretched state ! O bosom, black as death ! 
 
 O limed'' soul ; that, struggling to be free, 
 
 Art more engaged! Help, angels, make assay ! 
 
 Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of 
 
 steel. 
 Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe 
 All may be well. [Retires and kneels. 
 
 Enter Hami.et. 
 Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying, 
 And now I'll do't;— and so he goes to heaven; 
 And so am 1 revenged ? That would be scami'd:" 
 A villain kills my lather; and, for that, 
 
 1, his solo son, do this .same villain send 
 To heaven. 
 
 Wiry, this is hire and salary, not revenge. 
 He took my father grossly, full of bread ; 
 
 * I-ini.ifit'S. 
 
 8 Ciught as with bird-lime. ' Should be considered. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 PRINCE OP DENMARK. 
 
 
 With all Ills crimes broad blown, as Hush as May; 
 And, how his audit stands, who knows, save Hea- 
 ven] 
 But in our circumstance and course of thought, 
 'Tis heavy with him: And am I then revenj^ed, 
 To take him in the purging of his soul, 
 When he is fit and seasoned for his passage"? 
 No. 
 
 Up, sword; and kTiow thou a more horrid hent.-s 
 When he is drunk, asleep; or in his rage; 
 Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ; 
 At gaming, swearing; — or about some act 
 That has no relish of salvation in't. — 
 Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven. 
 And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black, 
 As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: 
 This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit. 
 The King rises, and advances. 
 King. My words tly up, my tiioughts remain 
 below : 
 Words, witiiout thoughts, never to heaven go. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 SCENE IV. — Another Room in the same* 
 Enter Queen and Polonius. 
 Pol. He will come straight. Look you, lay home 
 to him : 
 Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear 
 
 with ; 
 And thatyour grace hath scrcon'd and stood between 
 Much heat and him. Til silence me e'en here. 
 Pray you, be round with him. 
 
 Queen. I'll warrant you ; 
 
 Fear me not: — withdraw, I hear him coming. 
 
 [Polonius hides himself. 
 Enter Hajilet. 
 Ham. Now, motlier; what's the matter? 
 Queen. Ilamlct, thou hast thy lather much of- 
 fended. • 
 Ham. Mother, j^ou have my father much otlendcd. 
 Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle 
 
 tongue. 
 Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. 
 Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? 
 Ham. What's the matter now? 
 
 Queen, Have you forgot me? 
 Ham. No. by the rood,9 not so: 
 
 You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; 
 And — would it were not so ! — you are my mother. 
 Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can 
 
 speak. 
 Ham. Come, come, and sit you do%\m ; you shall 
 not budge; 
 You go not, till I set you up a glass 
 Where you may see the inmost, part of you. 
 Quec?'i. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder 
 me ? 
 Help, help, ho! 
 Pol. [Behind.] What, ho ! help! 
 Ham. How now ! a rat? 
 
 [Draws. 
 Dead, for a ducat, dead. 
 
 fllAMLKT makes a pass through the Arras, 
 Pol. [Behind.] o, I am slaui. 
 
 [Fails and dies. 
 Queen. O me, what hast thou done ? 
 Ham. Nay, I know not : 
 
 Is it the king? 
 
 [Lifts up the Arras, and draws forth Polonius. 
 Queen. O. what a rash and bloody deed is this ! 
 Ham. A bloody deed!— almost as bad, good mo- 
 ther. 
 As kill a king, and mairy with his brother. 
 Queen. As kill a king ! 
 
 Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word.— 
 
 Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell ! 
 
 ,....,, [^" Polonius. 
 
 I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune: 
 Thou lind'st, to be too busy, is some danger, — 
 Leave wringing of your hands: Peace; sit you down, 
 And let me wring your heart: for so I shall, 
 If it be made of penetrable stuff; 
 If damned custom have not braz'd it so, 
 That it be proof and bulwark against sense, 
 Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag 
 thy tongue 
 In noise so rude against me! 
 
 • Hold, i. e. purpose. a Cross. 
 
 Ham. Such an act. 
 
 That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ; 
 Calls virtue, hypocrite ; takes oli the rose 
 From the fiir Ibrehead of an innocent love. 
 And sets a blister tbere; makes marriage vows 
 As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed 
 As from the body of contraction' plucks 
 The very soul ; and sweet religion makes 
 A rhajisody of words: Heaven''s face doth glow; 
 Yea, this solidity and compound mass, 
 With tristful- visage, as against the doom, 
 Is thought-sick at the act. 
 
 Queen, Ah me, what act. 
 
 That roars so loud, and thunders in the index P 
 
 Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; 
 The counterfeit presentment of two brothere. 
 See, what a grace was seated on this brow : 
 Hyperion's' curls; the front of Jove himself; 
 An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; 
 A sta'tion^ like the herald Mercury, 
 New-Iiglitod on a heaven-kissing hill; 
 A combination, and a Ibrm, indeed, 
 Where every god did seem to set his seal. 
 To give the world assurance of a man : 
 Tliis wrf?i your husband. — Look you now, what 
 
 follows: 
 Here is your lujsband; like a mildew'd car. 
 Blasting Ins wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
 Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed. 
 And batten^ on this moor? Ha! Iiuve you eyes? 
 You cannot call it, love: for, at your age, 
 The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, 
 And waits upon the judgment; Andwhatjudgment 
 Would step from thia to this? Sense," sure, you 
 
 have. 
 Else, could you not have motion: But, sure, that 
 
 sense 
 Is apoplexM : for madness would not err; 
 Nor sense to ecstasy^ wasneVr so thrall'd, 
 But it rcserv'd some quantity of choice. 
 To serve in such a dillerence. Wliat devil was't, 
 That thus hath cozenM you at hoodman-biind .'^ 
 Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, 
 I^iars without hands or eyes, smelling sans' all, 
 Or but a sickly jiart of one true sense 
 Could not so mope.^ 
 
 O shame! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell, 
 If thou canst mutino in a matron's bones, 
 To Ilaming youth let virtue be as wax. 
 And melt in her own tire: proclaim no shame, 
 Wlien the compulsive ardor gives the charge; 
 Since frost itself as actively aoth burn, 
 And reason panders will. 
 
 Queen. Hamlet, speak no more; 
 
 Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; 
 And tJiere I see such black and grained spots. 
 As will not leave their tinct.^ 
 
 Ham. Nay, but to live 
 
 In the rank sweat of an enseamed^ bed ; 
 Stew'd in corrnplion ; honeying and making love 
 Over the nasty sty; 
 
 Queen. O, speak to me no more ; 
 
 These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears; 
 No more, swcut Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. A murderer, and a villain: 
 
 A slave, that is not twentieth part the tytlie 
 Of your iirecedont lord : — a vice^ of kings: 
 A culpurse of Iho empire and the rule ; 
 That irom a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
 And put it in his pocket ! 
 
 Queen. No more. 
 
 £/?/C7- Ghost. 
 
 Ham. A King 
 
 Of shreds and patches: — 
 Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
 You heavenly guards !— What would your gracious 
 figure ? 
 
 Queen. Alas! he's mad. 
 
 Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, 
 That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go Ijy 
 The important acting of your dread command? 
 O, say ! 
 
 Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation 
 Is but to wiiet thy almost blunted purpose. 
 
 * AhuTi.-igo contract. a Sorrowful. 
 
 * Index f'f contents prefixed to a book. 
 
 * Apollo's. 1 The act of stanfiing. 
 
 « (Irow I;it. 1 Senftatiou. t- Frenzy. 
 
 " Ulindman'e buff. i WithoHt. « He so stupid. 
 
 ' Color 4 Greasy. » Mimi>:. 
 
■iO 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 But, look ! amazement on thy mother sits : 
 if step tuHwcen tier and her tif^hting soul; 
 Conceif' in weakest bodies strongest works : 
 Si)p:ik to lier, Hamlet. 
 
 Iffnii. How is it with j'ou, lady 1 
 
 (Jueen. Alas, how is it with you 1 
 Th.if you do bend your eye on vacanry. 
 And with the incorporal air do hold discourse! 
 Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; 
 And, as the sieepiny: soldiers in the alarm. 
 Your bedded hair, like life in excrements? 
 Starts up and stands on end. gentle son, 
 Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
 SprinJde cool patience. Whereon do you look 1 
 
 Ham. On him! on him I— Look you, how pale 
 he glares ! 
 His form and cause conjoinM, preaching to stones. 
 Would make them capable^ — Do not look upon 
 
 me; 
 Lest with this piteous action yon convert 
 My stern elTects :9 then what I have to do 
 Will want true color; tears, perchance, for blood. 
 
 Queen. To whom do you speak this! 
 
 Ham. Do ynu see nothing there? 
 
 Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, that is, I see. 
 
 Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? 
 
 Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you there ! look, how it steals 
 away ! 
 My Hither, in his habit as he liv'd ! 
 Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal I 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 
 Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : 
 This bodiless creation ccst;isy> 
 Is very cunning in. 
 
 TIam. Ecstasy ! . 
 My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, 
 And makes as healthl'nl music: It is not madness, 
 Tliat I have utterM: bring me to the test, 
 And I the matter will re-word; which madness 
 AVuuld gambol from. Jlother, for love of grace, 
 Lay not tliat tlattering unction to your soul, 
 That not your trespass but my madness speaks : 
 It will but skin and fdm the ulcerous place ; 
 Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, . 
 Inlbct-s unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; 
 Kepent whafs past: avoid what is to come; 
 And do not spread the compost- on the weeds, 
 To make tliem ranker. Forgive me tiiis my virtue ; 
 For in tiic fatness of these pursy times, 
 Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg: 
 Yea, curb^and wno, for leave to do him good. 
 
 Queen. Hanilet! thou hast cleft my heart in 
 twain. 
 
 Ilrirn. O, throw away the worser part of it, 
 And live the purer witli the other half. 
 Good-night: but go not to my uncle's bed; 
 Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
 TJiat monster, custom, who all sense doth eat 
 or habit's devil, is angel yet in this ; 
 That to the use of actions fair and good 
 
 He likewise gives a frock, or livery, 
 
 That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night; 
 
 And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
 
 To the next abstinence : the next more easy : 
 
 For use almost can change the stamp of nature, 
 
 And either curb the devil, or throw liim out 
 
 With wondrous potency. Once more good-nigh.! 
 
 And when you are desn'ous to be blessM, 
 
 I'll blessing beg of you. — For this same lord, 
 
 [Pointing to Polo.vius. 
 I do repent: But heaven hath plcasM it so, — 
 To punish me with this, and this with me, 
 That I must be their scourge and minister. 
 I will bestow him, and will answer well 
 The death I gave him. So again good-night! — 
 I must be cruel, only to be kmd: 
 Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. — 
 But one word more, good lady. 
 
 Queen. What shall I do .' 
 
 Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do : 
 Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; 
 Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse; 
 And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses. 
 Or paddling in your neck with liis damned fingers, 
 ;Make you to ravel all this matter out, 
 That I essentially am not in madness, 
 But mad in cratl. 'Twere good, you let him kmow: 
 For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, 
 Would from a paddock.' from a bat, a gib,^ 
 Such dear conccrnings hide ! who would do so ? 
 No, in despite of sense, and secrecy. 
 Unpeg the basket on the house's top. 
 Let ihe birds fly : and. like the famous ape. 
 To try conclusions,^ in the basket creep. 
 And break your own neck down. 
 
 Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of 
 breath. 
 And breath of life. I have no life to breathe 
 What thou hast said to me. 
 
 Hain. I must to Kngland-; you know that? 
 
 Queen. Alack, 
 
 I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on. 
 
 Ham. There's letters seal'd : and my two school- 
 fellows, — 
 Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd,? — 
 They bear the mandate; they must sweep my wa)'. 
 And marshal me to knavery: Let it work; 
 For 'tis the sport to have the engineer 
 Hoist with Jus own petar:^ and it shall go hard, 
 But I will delve one yard below their mines. 
 And blow them at the moon: 0, 'tis most sweet, 
 When m one line two era Its directly meet. — 
 Ttiis man shall sot me packing. 
 I'll lug the guts into the neighbor room : — 
 Mother, good-night. — Indeen,this counsellor 
 Is now most still, mo.-^t secret, and most grave, 
 Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 
 Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you : 
 Good-night, mother. 
 
 [Exeunt severally; Hamlet dragging in 
 PuLoxica. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ Room in tlie Castle. 
 Eater King, Queen, Rosexcrantz, and GnLOEX- 
 
 STEKN. 
 
 King. There's matter in these sighs ; these pro- 
 found heaves ; 
 You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them: 
 Wliere is your son ? 
 Queen. Bestow tin's place on us a little while. — 
 [To IlosKXCUAXTZ and Guildensterx, 
 wfu) f^o out. 
 All. my good lord, wliat have I seen to-night ! 
 King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? 
 Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both 
 contend 
 Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit, 
 
 • • Ini;itrination. 
 
 ' Tilt! h;iir of animals is excremt'ntitious, that is, with- 
 out, lito or sensation. 
 
 • Intelligent, ■ Actions. * Frenzy, 
 
 a M;uiuro. 3 Bend. 
 
 Behind the arras hearing something stir, 
 Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat f a rat! 
 And, in this brainish apprehension, kills 
 The unseen good old man. 
 
 King. heavy deed ! 
 
 It had been so with us, had we been there: 
 His liberty is full of threats to all ; 
 To you yourself, to us, to every one. 
 Alas I how shall this bloody deed be answcr'd 1 
 It will be laid to us, whose providence 
 Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of 
 
 haunt,3 
 This mad young man : but, so much was our lovoj 
 We would not understand what was most tit; 
 But. like the owner of a foul disease. 
 To keep it from divulging, let it feed 
 Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? 
 
 Queen. To draw ai)art the body he hdtii kiU'd ; 
 
 * Toad. 
 
 1 Having their teeth. 
 
 • Company. 
 
 * Cat. « Experiments 
 
 B lilown np with hia own bomb. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMxVRK. 
 
 741 
 
 o'er whom his verj' madness, like some ore, 
 
 Among a miiierali of metals base. 
 
 Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done. 
 
 King. O, Gertrude, come away ! 
 The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, 
 But we will ship him hence : and this vile deed 
 We must, with all our majesty and skill. 
 Both countenance and excuse. — Ho! Guilden- 
 stern '. 
 Enter Rosexcrantz and Gcildexsters. 
 Friends both, go join you with some further aid: 
 Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain. 
 And from his mother's closet hath he dragged him: 
 Go seek him out : speak fair, and bring the body 
 Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this. 
 
 [Exeunt Ros. and Gcil.. 
 Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends ; 
 And let them know both what we mean to do. 
 And what's untimely done: so, haply, slander, — 
 Wiiose whisper o'er the world's diameter. 
 As level as the cannon to his blank,- 
 Transports his poison'd shot, — may miss ournamc. 
 And hit tlie woundless air. — O come away ! 
 My soul is fun of discord, and dismay. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Safely stowed, — [Ros. Sc- wiltiin. 
 
 Hamlet! lord Hamlet!] But soft!— what noise? 
 who calls on Hamlet ! 0, here they come. 
 
 Enter Rosexcrantz and GnrLDEXSTERN. 
 
 Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the 
 dead body ] 
 
 Uam. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. 
 
 Ros. Tell us wliere 'tis; that we may take it 
 thenee. 
 And bear it to the chape]. 
 
 Ham. Do not believe it. 
 
 Rns. Beltevc wliat 1 
 
 Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not 
 mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge — 
 what replication should be made by the son of a 
 king ? 
 
 Ron. Take you me for a sponge, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir; that .soaks up the king's eounle- 
 nauce. his rewards, his authorities. But such ollicers 
 do the king best service in the end : He keeps them, 
 like an ape. in the corner of his jaw ; first mouthed, 
 to be last swallowed: When he needs what you 
 have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, 
 j^ou sliall be dry again. 
 
 Rns. I understand you not, my lord. 
 
 Ham. 1 am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps 
 in a tbolish car. 
 
 Rus. My lord, you must tell us where the body 
 is, and go' with us to the king. 
 
 Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is 
 not with the body. The king is a thing 
 
 Quit. A thing, my lord ] 
 
 Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide, fox, 
 and all afler.^ [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE in.—Anottier Room in t/ie same. 
 Enter King, attended. 
 King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the 
 body. 
 How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose! 
 Yet must not we put tlie strong law on him : 
 He^s lov'd of the distracted multitude, 
 AVho like not in their judgment, but their eyes; 
 And, where 'tis so, the oflender's scourge is weigh'd. 
 But never the oflence. To bear all smooth and 
 
 even. 
 This sudden sending him away must seem 
 Deliberate pause: Diseases, desperate grown. 
 By desperate appliance arc reliev'd. 
 Enter Rosencrantz. 
 Or not at all. — How now ? what hath befallen ? 
 
 Ros. Where the dead body is bcstow'd, my lord. 
 We cannot get from him. 
 Kin^. But where is he 1 
 
 Rus. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your 
 
 pleasure. 
 King. Bring him before us. 
 Ros. Ho, Guililenstcrnl bring in my lord. 
 ' Mine. * Mark. 3 .\ sport among children. 
 
 Enter H.uilet and Guildesstern. 
 
 King. Now, Hamlet, wherc's Polonius? 
 
 Ham. At supper. 
 
 A'i»g-. At supper? Where? 
 
 Ham. Not where he cats, but where he is calen : 
 a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at 
 him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet : 
 we tilt all creatures else, to fat us: and we (iit our- 
 selves for maggots: Your fat king, and your lean 
 beggar, is but variable service; two dishes, but to 
 one table; that's the end. 
 
 King. Alas, alas ! 
 
 Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath 
 cat of a king; and eat of the fish that halh fed of 
 that worm. 
 
 King. What dost thou mean by this? 
 
 Ham. Nothing, but to show you how a king 
 may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. 
 
 King. \Vhere is Polonius? 
 
 Ham. In heaven; send thither to see; if your 
 messenger tind him not there, seek him i' the otlier 
 place yourself. Hut, indeed, if you find him not 
 within' this month, you shall no»e him as you go 
 up the stairs into the lobby. 
 
 King. Co seek him there. [To some Attendants. 
 
 JIam. He will stay till you come. 
 
 [Exeunt .Mtendants. 
 
 King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial 
 sali'ty,— 
 Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve 
 For that which thou hajt do:ie, — must send thee 
 
 hence 
 With fiery quickness : Therefore, prepare thyself; 
 The barkis ready, and the wind at help. 
 The .associates tend, and every thing is bent 
 For England. 
 
 Ham. For England ! 
 
 King. Ay, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. , Good. 
 
 King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. 
 
 Ham. I sec a cherub, fhat sees Ihem. — But, 
 come, for England !— Farewell, dear mother. 
 
 King. Thy loving lather. Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. My mother: Father and mother is man and 
 wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. 
 Come, for England ! — [E-eit. 
 
 King. Follow him at foot: tempt him withspeed 
 aboard : 
 Delay it not. 1 11 have him hence to-ni^ht: 
 Away; for every thing is seal'd and done 
 That else leans on the alPair: Pray you, make Iiaste. 
 [Exeunt Ros. and Gl'il. 
 And, England, if my love lliou hold'st at aught, 
 (As my great power thereof may give thee sense* 
 Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red 
 Afier tlie Danish sword, and thy free awe 
 Pays homage to us.) thou luay'st not coldly set' 
 Our sovereign jirocess; which imports at lull. 
 By letters conjuring to that etiert. 
 The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England ; 
 For like the hectic in my blood he rages. 
 And thou must cure me: Till 1 know 'tis done, 
 Howe'cr my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— .-l Ptain in Denmark. 
 Enter Fortixdras, and Forces, marcliing. 
 
 Far. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king.; 
 Tell him, tliat, by his licence, Fortinbras 
 Craves the conveyance of a promised march 
 Over his kingdom. Yon know the rendezvous. 
 II that his majesty would aught with us. 
 We sliall express our duty in his eye,' 
 And let him know so. 
 
 Cap. I will do't, my lord. 
 
 For. Go softly on. 
 
 [Exeunt Fortixpras and Forces 
 
 Enter Hamlet, Rosexcraxtz, Guildexstekx, 4-c. 
 
 Ham. Good sir, whose powers are tliese? 
 
 C«;i. They are of Norway, sir. 
 Ham. How purpos'd, sir, 
 
 I P^y you? 
 Cap. Against some part of Poland. 
 
 Hum. Who 
 
 Commands them, sir? 
 
 yap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. 
 « Value, estimate. » Presence. 
 
742 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Acr IV. 
 
 Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, 
 Or lor some frontier 1 
 
 Cap. Truly lo speak, sir, and with no addition, 
 V/e go lo gain a little patch of ground, 
 Thai lialh in it no prolit but Ihe name. 
 To pay live ducals, live, I would not farm it: 
 Kor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole, 
 A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. 
 
 Hatu. Why, Ihen the Polack never will defend it. 
 
 Vdji. Yes, tis already garrison'd. 
 
 lluin. Two thousand souls, and twenty thou- 
 sand ducats. 
 Will not debate the question of this straw: 
 This is the iniposthume of much wealth and peace; 
 That inward breaks, and shows no cause Without 
 Why the man dies.— I liumbly thank you, sir. 
 
 CV/yj. God be wi' you. sir. [A',n7 Captain. 
 
 Aw'- Will't please you go, my lord? 
 
 Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little 
 ''P'orP- [Exeunt Ros. and GuiL. 
 
 How all occasions do inform against me, 
 Ami spur my dull revenge ! What is a man, 
 If his chief good, and market of his time. 
 Be but to sleep, and leed ! a beast, no more. 
 Sure. He, that made us with such large discourse,' 
 Looking belbre, and alter, gave us not 
 That capability and godlike reason 
 To fust' in us unused. Now, whether it be 
 Keslial oblivion, or some cravens scruple 
 Of thinking too precisely on the event, — 
 A thought, which quarter'd, hath but one part 
 
 wisdom. 
 And, ever, three parts coward,— I do not know 
 Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do; 
 SithJ 1 have cause, and will, and strength, and 
 
 means. 
 To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me : 
 Wilness, tins army of such mass, and charge, 
 Led by a delicate and lender prmee : 
 Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, 
 Makes mouths at the invisible event ; 
 Exposing what is mortal, and unsure. 
 To all that fortune, dealh, and danger, dare, 
 Even lor an egg-shell. Kighlly to be great, 
 Is not lo stir without great argument; 
 But greatly lo lind quarrel in a straw. 
 When honor's at the slake. How stand I then. 
 That have a liither kill'd, a mother stain'd, 
 Excilcmeiits of my reason, and my blood. 
 And let all sleep ! while, to my shame, I see 
 The imminent dealh of twenty thousand men. 
 That, for a liintasy. and triek of fame. 
 Go to their graves like beds; tight liir a plot 
 Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, 
 Which is not tomb enough, and coiuinent 
 To hide the slain 1—0, Ihun this time Ibrth 
 My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE v.— Elsinore. A lioominthe Castle. 
 ' Enter Quee.v and Horatio. 
 
 Queen. 1 will not speak with her. 
 
 Jhir. She is imiiortunate; indeed, distract; 
 Her mood will needs be pitied. 
 
 Queen. What would she have '' 
 
 Hur. She speaks much of her liither; says, she 
 hears. 
 There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats 
 
 her heart; 
 Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt 
 That carry but half sense : her speech is nolliing. 
 Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
 The hearers to collection: they aim at it. 
 And bolch the words up lit lo Iheir own thoughts 
 Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield 
 
 them. 
 Indeed would make one think, there might be 
 
 thought. 
 Though iiolhing sure, yet much unhappily. 
 Queen. I'were good she were spoken with : for 
 she may strew 
 Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds : 
 Let her come in. [y,-^.;^ Horatio. 
 
 lo my sick soul, as sm s true nature is. 
 Each loy seems prologue lo some great amis-s; 
 So lull ol artless jealousy is guilt, 
 H siiills Itself in iearing to be spilt. 
 
 e Power of comprehi'Hsiun. 
 " Cowurdlj. 
 
 1 Orow mouldy. 
 " Siaco. 
 
 He-enter Horatio, with Ophelia. 
 Oph. Where is the beauteous majestv ol Den- 
 mark I 
 Queen. How now, Ophelia? 
 Oph. How should I your true love Imoiu 
 From ani'iltt r one P 
 By his cockle hat iinil -iteiff, 
 .ind his sanitle shooti.i |Singin"-. 
 
 Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song ] 
 Vph. Sa J you ; nay, pray you, mark. 
 
 He is dead and gone, lady, [Sings. 
 
 He is dead and gone ; 
 At his head a grass-green turf. 
 At his heels a stone. 
 0, ho r 
 
 Queen. Nay, but Ophelia, 
 
 ^l'^- Pray you, marK. 
 
 IVhite his shroud as the mountain snow. 
 
 „ . ISings. 
 
 Enter Kino. ' ° 
 
 Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. 
 
 Oph. Larded all with sweet flcflMers t 
 Which bewept to the grave did go. 
 With true-love showers. 
 King. How do you, pretty lady? 
 Oph. Well, God 'icid- you ! They say the owl 
 was a baker s daughter. Lord, we know what we 
 arc, but know not what we may be. God be at 
 your table ! 
 King. Conceit upon her father. 
 Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but 
 when they ask you what it means, say you this : 
 Good morrow, '/w Saint Valentine''s day. 
 
 All in the morning betime, 
 And la niuid at your window. 
 To be your Valentine. 
 
 Then up he rose, and don\l his clothes. 
 
 And dupp^P the chamber door; 
 Let in the maid, that out a maid 
 Aecer departed nurre. 
 King. Pretly Ophelia! 
 
 Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end 
 on t: 
 
 By Ois,' and by ilaint Charily;^ 
 
 Alack, and Jie for shame! 
 Young men will doV, if they come toH; 
 
 By cock, they are to blame. 
 
 Quotk she. Before you tumbled me, 
 lou promiA^i me to wed: 
 [He answers.] 
 So woulil I ha'' done, by yonder sun. 
 An thou liadst not come to my bed 
 King. How long hath she been thus ' 
 Opii. I hope, all will be well. We must be 
 patient : bill I cannot choose but weep, lo think 
 they should lay liini 1' the cold ground : My brolher 
 shall know ot it, and so I thank you for your good 
 counsel. Come, my coach! Good-night, ladies; 
 good-nighl, sweet ladies; good-night, good-night. 
 
 King. Follow her close; give her good waich,' 
 I pray you. [A'.(i/ Horatio. 
 
 O, this is the poison of deep grief; ii sprin-s 
 All fioui her lather's death: And now behold, 
 
 Gertrude, Gertrude, 
 
 When sorrows come, they come not single spies. 
 
 But in battalions ! First, her Jiilher slam ; 
 
 Next, ymir son gone ; and he most violent aulhor 
 
 01 his own just remove: The people muddied 
 Thick and unwholesome in llielr Ihuughls and 
 
 whispers. 
 For good Polonius' dealh ; and we have done but 
 
 greenly. 
 In hiig^'i i-inugger to inter him: Poor Oiiliella 
 Divided Ir.ilii hersell, and her lair judgment ; 
 Wilhoul Ihe which we are pictures, or nicro beasts 
 Last, and as much containing as all these, 
 Iler brolher is in secret come from France; 
 Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, 
 And wants not buzzers to infect his ear 
 Willi ]ieslilent speeches of his father's death: 
 Wherein, necessity of matler beggar'd, 
 
 ' Shoes. IlennrJ. 3 Do up. 
 
 « Saints Iq the lioman (.'atbolio calendar. 
 
Scene YI. 
 
 PP.IXCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 743 
 
 Will Tiolliiiii? Stick our person to arraign 
 In ear and car. O my dear Gertrude, tins, 
 I.Ike to a murderin;; piece, in many places 
 Gives mc superfluous death ! [A Noise wilhm. 
 Queen. Alack! wliut noise is this ! 
 
 ■ Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 King. Attend. 
 Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door: 
 What is tlie matter? 
 
 Genf. Save yourself, my lord; 
 
 The ocean, overpcering of his list.i' 
 Eats not the flat* with more impetuous haste, 
 Than younj; Laertes, in a riotous head, 
 O'crhe'ars your olticers ! The rahble call him lord; 
 And, as the world were now hut to begin, 
 Antiquity forgot, custom not known. 
 The ratitiers and props of every word, 
 They cry. Choose we; Lacrles shall be king.' 
 Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, 
 Laertes shall be king, Laertes king .' 
 
 Queen. How cheerfully on the false trails they 
 cry ! 
 O, this is counter,' you false Danish dogs. 
 
 King. Tlie doors are broke. [Noise within. 
 
 Enter Laertes, armed; Oanesfollowing. 
 
 Laer. Where is this king?— Sirs, stand you all 
 without. 
 
 Dan. No, let's come in. 
 
 Laer. I pray you, give me leave. 
 
 Dan. We will, we %vill. 
 
 [Theii retire without the door. 
 
 Laer. I thank you: — Keep the door. thou 
 vile king. 
 Give me my father. 
 
 Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. 
 
 Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims 
 me bastard; 
 Cries, cuckold, to my (iilher; brands the harlot 
 Even here, Ijetween the chaste unsmirched* brow 
 Of my true mother. 
 
 King. What is the cause, Laertes, 
 
 That thy rebellion looks so giant-like f — 
 Let liiin go, Gertrude; do not fear our person; 
 There's such divinity doth hedge a king. 
 That treason can but peep to what it would. 
 Acts little of his will.— Tell me, Laertes, 
 Why thou art thus incens'd;- Let him go, Ger- 
 trude ; — 
 Speak, man. 
 
 Laer. Where is my father? 
 
 King. Dead. 
 
 Queen. But not by him. 
 
 King. Let him demand his fill. 
 
 Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled 
 with : 
 To hell, allegiance ! vows, to the blackest devil ! 
 Conscience, and grace, to the protimndest pit ! 
 I dare damnation: To this point I stand,— 
 That both the worlds I give to negligence. 
 Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged 
 Most thoroughly lor my father. 
 
 King. Who shall stay you? 
 
 Laer. My will ; not all the world's : 
 And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, 
 They shall go far with little. 
 
 King. Good Laertes, 
 
 If you desire to know the certainty 
 Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your re- 
 venge. 
 That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe, 
 Winner and loser? 
 
 Laer. None but his enemies. 
 
 King. Will you know them then? 
 
 Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my 
 arms ; 
 And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, 
 Repast them with my blood. 
 
 King. Why, now you speak 
 
 Like a good child and a true gentleman. 
 That I am guiltless of your titther's death, 
 And am most sensibly in grief for it. 
 It shall as level to your judgment 'pear, 
 As day does to your eye. 
 
 Danes. [ Within.] Let her come in. 
 
 Laer. How now ( what noise is that ? 
 
 I Bounds. « Scent. 
 
 ' Hounds run counter when they (race the scent back- 
 w.irds. ' Clean, undefiled. 
 
 Enter Opuelia, fantasticallt/ dressed wit/i Straws 
 
 and Flowers. 
 heat, dry up my brains ! tears seven times salt, 
 Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye ! — 
 By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight, 
 Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May ! 
 Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia !_ 
 () heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits 
 Should be as mortal as an old man's life ! 
 Nature is tineS in love : and, where 'tis tine, 
 It sends some precious instance of itself 
 .\fter the thing it loves. 
 Oph. Theij bore hint barefaced on tlie bier ; 
 lieij no nunntj, nonny hey nanny: 
 And in his grave raui'd many a tear ; — 
 Fare you well, my dove ! 
 Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade 
 revenge. 
 It could not move me thus. 
 
 Oph. You must sing, Down-a-down, an ymi call 
 him a-di)wn-a. 0, how the wheel' becomes it ! It 
 istlie false steward, thatstole his master's daughter. 
 Laer. This nothing's more than matter. 
 Opii. There's rosemary, that's lor remembrance ; 
 pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, 
 that's lor thoughts. 
 
 Laer. A document in madness ; thoughts and 
 remembrance fitted. 
 
 Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines:- 
 there's rue liir you : and here's some for me :— 
 we may call it,"herb of grace, o' Sundays — jou 
 may wear your rue with a di!lt?rence.^ — There s a 
 daisy: — I would give you some violets; but they 
 withered all, when my father died:— They say, he 
 
 made a good end, 
 
 Fur bunny svieet Robin is all my Joy, — 
 
 [Sings. 
 LMcr. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itselt, 
 She turns to liivor, and to prettiness. 
 
 Oph. Arid loill he luit come again ? [Sings. 
 
 And will he nut come again? 
 No, nu, he i.s dead. 
 Go to thy death-bed, 
 He never will come again. 
 
 //i.5 beard was as while ■■ s snow, 
 
 Atljlai-en was his poll : 
 lie is gone, tit is gone. 
 And lue cast away moan; 
 
 God '« mercy on hi^ soul ! 
 
 And of all Christian souls ! I pray God. God be 
 wi' you ! [Exit Oi>helia. 
 
 Ijier. Do you see this, God ! 
 
 King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, 
 Or you deny me right. Go but apart. 
 Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will. 
 And they shall hear and judge "twixt you and me : 
 If by direct or by collateral hand 
 They tind us toueh'd, we will our kingdom give, 
 Our crown, our Hie. and all that we call ours. 
 To you in satisfaction; but, if not. 
 Be you content to lend your patience to us. 
 And we shall jointly labor with your soul 
 To give it due content. 
 
 Laer. Let this be so; 
 
 His means of death, his obscure funeral, — 
 No trophy, sword, nor hatchment, o'er his bones, 
 No noble rite, nor formal ostentation, — 
 Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth 
 That I must call't in question. 
 
 King. So you shall. 
 
 And where the olTence is, let the great a.xe tall. 
 I pray you, go with me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. — Another Rnnm in the same. 
 Enter Horatio and a Serv,ant. 
 Ilur. W'hat are they, that would speak with nu ? 
 Serv. Sailors, sii; 
 
 They .say, they have letters for you. 
 Hor. Let them come in :— 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 I do not know from what part of the world 
 I should be greeted, if not liom lord Hamlet. 
 
 s Artful. * The burden. 
 
 'i.e. By its Sunday name, "herb of grace;"' nine is 
 merely rue, i. c. sorrow. 
 
744 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act IV. Scene VII. 
 
 Enter Sailors. 
 
 ] Sail. God bless you, sir. 
 
 Hnr. Let him bless'thee too. 
 
 1 Salt. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a 
 letter Ibr you, sir; it comes froui the ambassador 
 that was bound for England ; if your name be Ho- 
 raiio, as I am let to know it is. 
 
 Hor. [Reads.] Horatio, when ihrm shalt have 
 overlooked this, give these felUiWssimie means to the 
 king; then have letter.^ fur him. Ere ive were two 
 days old at sea. a pirate of vcni warlike aj/pnintoient 
 gave us chase. ■fuiding nurselirs Inn siniv of sail, we 
 put (m a compelled valor; awl in the graji;ile,I 
 boarded them: on the instant, the;/ got clear of our 
 ship; so I alone hero me thiir'pri.inner. Theij 
 have dealt ivith me like thieves of mercy ; but they 
 knew what they did; I am. to ilo a good turn for 
 lliem. Let the king have the letter's 1 have sent, 
 and repair thou to'me with as much ha.ite as thou 
 ivoul'l.st till death. I have word.s to speak in thine 
 ear will n'lake thee dumb; yet are they much too 
 li/iht for the bore (f the nicilter. Tltese good fel- 
 lows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrautz and 
 r.uildenstern hold their course for England; of 
 them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. 
 
 He that thou knowe.it thine, Hamlet. 
 
 Come. I \\ in give y()u way for these j-our letteis; 
 And do't the speedier, tl)at you may direct me 
 To him from whom 3-ou brought them. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Vn. — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter King and Laertes. 
 
 Kijig. Now must your conscience my acquittance 
 seal. 
 And you must put me in your heart for friend; 
 Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, 
 That he, which hath your noble lather slain, 
 I'ursued my lite. 
 
 Laer. It well appears:— but tell me, 
 
 Why you proceeded not against these fcals, 
 So crimeful and so capital in nature. 
 Ashy your safety, greatness, wisdom.all things else. 
 You mainly were stirrM up. 
 
 King. O, for two special reasons : 
 
 Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd, 
 But yet to me they are strong. The queen his 
 
 mother 
 Lives almost by his looks; and for myself, 
 (.My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,) 
 She is so conjunctive to my lilc and soul, 
 Tliat, as the star moves not but in his sphere, 
 1 could not but by her. The other motive, 
 Why to a public count I might not go. 
 Is, the great love the general gender^ bear him; 
 Wlio, dipping all his lault-s in their aHijction, 
 Work like the spring that tunieth wood to stone, 
 Convert his gyves^ to graces ; so that my arrows, 
 Too slightly fimber'd lor so loud a wind, 
 "Would have reverted to my bow again. 
 And not where I had aimVl them. 
 
 Laer. And so have I a noble liither lost ; 
 A sister driven into desperate terms; 
 Whose worth, if praises may go back again, 
 Stood challenger on mount of all the age 
 For her perfections:— But my revenge will come. 
 
 King. Break not your sleeps for that: you must 
 not think. 
 That we are made of stulf so flat and dull, 
 'J'liat we can let our beard be sliook with danger, 
 And think it pastime. You shortlyshall hearmore: 
 ] iiiv'cl your father, and we love ourself ; 
 And lliat, 1 hope, will leach you to imagine, — 
 How now'.' what news? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Me.'S. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: 
 
 This to your majesly ; this to'lbe queen. 
 
 King. From Hamlet! who brought them? 
 
 jl/fss.Sailors,my lord,theysay: I sawthemnot; 
 They were given me by Claudib, he receiv'd them 
 Of him that brought them. 
 
 King. Laertes, you sliall lie.ir them :— 
 
 Leave us. [E.vit Messenger. 
 
 [Reads.] High and. mighty. you sliaU knoiv.I am 
 set naked on your kingdom.' 'J'o-morraw shall I beg 
 leave to. see your kingly eyes; Ivhen I shall first, 
 asking yinir pardon thereunto, rec(mnl the occasi)m 
 if my sudden and more strange return. Hamlet, 
 a Common people. « Chnius. 
 
 What should this mean? Are all the rest come 
 
 back? 
 Or is it some abuse, and no such thing ? 
 Laer. Know you the hand? 
 King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked,— 
 
 And, in a postcript here, he says, alone: 
 Can you advise me ? 
 Laer. 1 am lost in it, my lord. But let him 
 come ; 
 It warms the very sickness in my heart. 
 That I sliall live and tell him to his teeth, 
 Thus didilest thou. 
 
 King. If it be so, Laertes,— 
 
 As how should it be so ? how otherwise?.^ 
 Will you be rul'd by me? 
 
 Laer. Ay, my lord ; 
 
 So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace. 
 
 King. To thine own peace. If lie be now re- 
 turn'd. — 
 As checking^ at his voyage, and that he means 
 No more to undertake "it, — I will work him 
 To an exploit, now ripe in my device. 
 Under the which he shall not ehoo.se but fnV : 
 And for his death no wind of blame shaU breathe; 
 But even his mother shall uncharge the practice, 
 And call it accident, 
 
 Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd: 
 
 The rather, if you could devise it so. 
 That I might be the organ. 
 
 King. It falls right. 
 
 You have been talk'd of since your travel mitch. 
 And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality, 
 Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts 
 Did not together pluck such envy from him. 
 As did that one; and that, in my regard. 
 Of the unworthiest siege.6 
 
 Laer. What part is that, my lord? 
 
 King. A very riband in the cap of vouth. 
 Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes 
 The light and careless livery that it wears, 
 Than settled age his sables and his weeds. 
 Importing health and gravencss.— Two months 
 
 since. 
 Here was a gentleman of Normandy, — 
 I have seen myself, and serv'd against, tile French, 
 .\m[ they can well on horseback: but tliis gallant 
 Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat; 
 And to such wonderous doing brought his horse, 
 As he had been incorps'd ana demi-natur'd 
 With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought, 
 Tliat I, in for;jery of shapes and tricks, 
 Come sliort of what he did. 
 
 Laer. A Norman, was't ? 
 
 King. A Norman. 
 
 Laer. Upon my life, Lamord. 
 
 King. The very same. 
 
 Laer. I know him well : he is the brooch' indeed. 
 And gem of all the nation. 
 
 King. He made confession of you ; 
 And gave you such a masterly rejwrt, 
 For art and exercise in your defence, 
 And for your rapier most especial, 
 That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed. 
 If one could match you : the scrimcrss of their 
 
 nation. 
 He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye, 
 If you oppos'd them : Sir, this report of his 
 Did Hamlet so en\'enom witli his envy, 
 Tliat he could nothing do, but wish and beg 
 Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you. 
 Now, out of this, 
 
 I-aer. What out of this, my lord ? 
 
 King. Laertes, was your father dear to you ? 
 Or arc you like the painting of a sorrow, 
 A face without a heart? 
 
 Lear. Why ask you this ! 
 
 King. Not that I think, you did not love your 
 father; 
 Buttiiat 1 know, love is begun by time; 
 And that I .see, in passages of prool",^ 
 Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. 
 There lives within the very flame of love 
 A kind of wick, or snutT, that will abate it: 
 And nothing is at a like goodness still; 
 For goodness, growing to a pleurisy. 
 Dies in his own too-much : That we would do. 
 We .should do when wo would; for this would 
 changes, 
 
 ' Oltjectiug to. 6 Se.it. pLice. ' Ornament, 
 
 'Fencers. » l>uily experience. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 r45 
 
 And liatli abatements and delays as many, 
 As there are tonj^ues, are iiands, are accidents ; 
 And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, 
 That Imrts by easing. But, to thequicl< o' the ulcer: 
 Hamlet comes hack ; What would you undertake, 
 To show yourself indeed jour father's son 
 More than in words? 
 
 jAur. To cut his throat i' the church. 
 
 Kilts. No place, itidced, should murder sanctuar- 
 ize ; 
 Revenge should have no bounds. But, good 
 
 Laertes, 
 Will you do this: keep close within your chamber? 
 Hamlet, returned, shall know you are come home: 
 We'll put on those shall praise your excellence, 
 And set a double varnish on the fame 
 The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, to- 
 gether, 
 And wager o'er your heads: he, being remiss, 
 Most generous, and free from all contriving, 
 W]I1 not peruse the foils; so that, with ease, 
 Or with a little shuffling, you may choose 
 A .sword iinbated,' and, ni a pass of practice, 
 Requite him for your father. 
 
 Laer. I will do't : 
 
 And, lor the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. 
 I bought an unction of a mountebaiili, 
 .So mortal, that, but dip a knife in it. 
 Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare, 
 Collected from ail simples that have virtue 
 Under the moon, can save the thing from death 
 That is hut scratch'd withal : I'll touch my point 
 With this contagion ; that, if I gall him slightly, 
 It may be death. 
 
 King. Let's further think of this; 
 
 Weigh, what convenience, both of timeand means, 
 May ht us to our shape: if this should fail. 
 And that our drill look through our bad perform- 
 ance, 
 'Twere hetler not essay'd : therefore this project 
 Should have a back, or second, that might hold. 
 If this should blast in proof.-! goft ; — let me sec : 
 We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,' — 
 I ha"t: 
 When on your motion you are hot and dry, 
 
 (As make your bouts more violent to that end.) 
 And that he calls tor drink, I'll have preferr'd him 
 A chalice for the nonce ;'» wliereon but sipping, 
 If he by chance escape your venora'd stuck,' 
 Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise 1 
 
 Enter Qceen. 
 How now, sweet queen ? 
 
 Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, 
 So fast they follow :—Voiir sister's drown'd, Laertes. 
 
 Laer. Drown'd I O, where ? 
 
 Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt (he 
 brook. 
 That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
 Therewith fantastic garlands did she make 
 Of crow-Howers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, 
 That liberals shepherds give a grosser name, 
 But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call 
 
 them : 
 Tlierc, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 
 Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; 
 When down her weed\' trophies, and herself. 
 Fell in the weeping orook. Her clothes spread 
 
 wide ; 
 And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up : 
 Which time she chanted snalclics of old tunes; 
 As one incapable'J of her own distress, 
 Or like a creature native and indued 
 Unto that element: but long it could not be, 
 Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
 PulI'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
 To muddy death. 
 
 Laer. Alas ! then, she is drown d ? 
 
 Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. 
 
 Laer. Too much ofwater hast thou, poor Ophelia, 
 And therefore I forbid my tears : But yet 
 It is our trick ; nature her custom holds. 
 Let shame say what it will: when these are gone 
 The woman will be out.— Adieu, my lord ! 
 I have a speech of fire, that Iain would blaze. 
 But that this folly drowns it. [Exit. 
 
 King. Let's follow, Gertrude; 
 
 How much I had to do to calm his rage ! 
 Now fear I, this will give it start again ; 
 Therelbre, let's follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.—A Churchyard. 
 Enter two Clowns, with Spades, <5c. 
 
 1 Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, 
 that wilfully seeks her own salvation ! 
 
 2 Clti. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her 
 grave straight :■• the crowner hath set on her, and 
 finds it Christian burial. 
 
 1 Clu. How can that be, unless she drowned her- 
 self in her own defence? 
 
 2 Via. Why, 'tis fiiuiul so. 
 
 1 C7o. It must be sfJiyi'H'/fnf/o; it cannot be else. 
 For here lies the point: If I drown myself wit- 
 tingly, it argues an act: and an act liath three 
 branches; it is, to act, to <lo, and to perform: Argal, 
 she drowned herself wittingly. 
 
 2 C/o. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver. 
 
 1 CLu. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good : 
 here stands the man ; good : If the man go to this 
 water, and drown himself, it is, will he, niU he, he 
 goes; mark you that: hut if the water come to him, 
 and drown him, he drowns not himself: Argal, he, 
 that is not guilty of liis own death, shortens not 
 his own liiiL'. 
 
 2 Clo. But is this law ? 
 
 1 Clo. Ay, marry, is't ; crowner's ciuest law. 
 
 2 Clt). ^Vill you ha' the truth on't? If this had 
 not been a {gentlewoman, she should iiave been 
 buried out ot Christian burial. 
 
 1 Clu. Why, there thou say'st: And the more 
 pity, that great folks shall have countenance in this 
 world to drow n or hang themselves, more than their 
 eveip Christian. Come, my spade. There is no 
 ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and 
 grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 
 
 » Not Itlunted as foils are. 
 
 9 As fire-arms sometimes burst in proving their strength. 
 
 • Skill. « Immediately. • Fellow. I 
 
 2 Clo. Was he a gentleman ? 
 
 1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms, 
 
 2 Clo. Why, he had none. 
 
 1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou un- 
 derstand the Scripture? The Scripture says, Adam 
 digged: Could he dig without arms?' I'll put 
 another question to thee: if thou answerestme not 
 to the purpose, confess thyself 
 
 2 Clo. Co to. 
 
 1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than 
 either the mason, the shipwright, or the car- 
 penter? 
 
 2 Clo. The gallows-maker; for that frame out- 
 lives a thousand tenants. 
 
 1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the 
 gallows does well: But how does it well? it does 
 well to those that do ill : now- thou dost ill. to say, 
 the gallows is built stronger than the church; 
 argal, the gallon s may do well to thee. To't again; 
 come. * 
 
 2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a 
 shipwright, or a carpenter ? 
 
 1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.' 
 
 2 Clo. Marry, now I can tell. 
 
 1 Clo. To't. 
 
 2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell. 
 
 Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance. 
 •1 C/o. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for 
 your dull ass will not mend his iiaccwilh beating: 
 and. when you are asked this question next, say, a 
 grave-maker; the houses that he makes, last till 
 doomsday. Go. get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me 
 a stoup of liquor. 
 
 {E.rit 2 Clown. 
 
 « A cup for fho purpose. ' Thrnst. 
 
 s Licentious. » Insensible. 
 
 » Give over. 
 
7-i6 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 1 Clown (ii;i;s, and sings. 
 In yottih, ivken I did love^ did love,^ 
 
 JMeihougkt, it was very sweet. 
 To contract, O, the time,Jor, ah, my behove 
 0, methought, there was nothing meet. 
 
 Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business*! 
 he sings at grave-making. 
 
 Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of 
 easiness. 
 
 Hum. 'Tis e-en so: the hand of little employ- 
 ment tialh the daintier sense. 
 
 1 Clo. But age, ivifh his stealing steps, 
 Hath claw'd me in his clutch, 
 And hath shipped me into the landj 
 As if J had never been such. 
 
 [Throws up a Skull. 
 
 Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could 
 sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, 
 as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first mur- 
 der! This might be the pate of a politician, which 
 this ass now o'er-reachcs ; one that would circum- 
 vent God, might it not? 
 
 Hor. It might, my lord. 
 
 Hum. Or of a courtier; which could say, Good- 
 mornnv, sweet lo^rd ! How dost thou, guod lord? 
 Tins might be my lord Such-a-one, that praised my 
 lord Such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; 
 might it not? 
 
 Hor. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, e^en so: and now my lady Worm's; 
 chapless, and laiocked about the mazzard with a 
 sexton's spade: Here's tine revolution, and we had 
 the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more 
 the breeding, but to j)Iay at loggats^ with them? 
 mine ache to think oiTt. 
 
 1 Clo. ^4 pickaj:e, anl a spade, a spade^ [Sings. 
 Far— and a shrouding sheet : 
 0, a pit ofclutifiir to be iuade 
 For such a guest is meet. 
 
 [Throws up a Skull. 
 
 Ham. There's another: Why may not that be 
 the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits^ now, 
 his quillets,^ his cases, his tenures, and his tricks ? 
 wiiy does he suffer this rude Imave now to knock 
 him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will 
 not tell him of his action of battery I Humph! 
 This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, 
 with his statutes, his recognisances, his tines, his 
 double vouchers, his recoveries: Is this the fine of 
 his tines, and t#ie recovery of his recoveries, to have 
 his fine pate full of tine dirt? will his vouchers vouch 
 him no more of hi?> purchases, and double ones too, 
 than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? 
 The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie 
 in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no 
 more ? ha 1 
 
 H*ir. Not a jot more, my lord. 
 
 Bam. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins? 
 
 Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calves'-skins too. 
 
 Hum. They are sheep, and calves, which seek 
 out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow:— 
 Whose grave's this, sirrah ? 
 
 1 Clfj. Mine, sir. — 
 
 O, a pit of clay for to be made [Sings. 
 
 Firr such a guest is meet. 
 
 Ham. I think it be thine indeed; for thou liest 
 in't. 
 
 1 Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not 
 yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine. 
 
 Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in'tj and say it is 
 thine: 'tis for the dead, not tor the quick; theretbre 
 thou liest. 
 
 1 Cbi. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again 
 from me to you. 
 
 Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 
 
 1 Clo. For no man. sir. 
 
 Hutu. What woman, then? 
 
 I Clo. For none neither. 
 
 Ham. Who is to be buried in't? 
 
 1 Clo. One, that was a woman, sir; but, rest her 
 soui, she's dead. 
 
 Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak 
 by the card,6 or equivocation will undo us. By 
 
 •i Tin* son;r entire is printt-tl in Percy's Rell^ues of au- 
 ck'iit Kn;!;Iish Poetry, vol. i, : it was written by Lord Vaux. 
 
 » All ancit'ut gamo, played iis r/umL't are at present. 
 
 * Subtilties. * Frivolous diatinctioas. 
 
 s By the compass. 
 
 the lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken 
 note of it ; the age is grown so picked," that the toe 
 of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, 
 he galls his kibe-- -How long hast thou been a 
 grave-maker? 
 
 I Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that 
 dav that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras 
 
 Ham. How long's that since ? 
 
 1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell 
 that: It was that very day that young Han)let was 
 born: he that is mad, and sent into England. 
 
 Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into Eng- 
 land ? 
 
 1 Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall re- 
 cover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great 
 matter there. 
 
 Ham. Why? 
 
 1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there 
 the men are as mad as he. 
 
 Ham. How came he mad? 
 
 1 Cl(t. Very strangely, they say. 
 
 Ham. How strangely ? 
 
 1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits. 
 
 Hum. Upon what ground ? 
 
 1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sex- 
 ton here, man and boy, thirty years. 
 
 Ham. How long will a man lie i"* the earth ere 
 he rot ? 
 
 1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, 
 (as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, tliat 
 will scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you 
 some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last 
 you nine year. 
 
 Ham. Why he more than another? 
 
 1 Clo. ^V'hy, sir, liis hide is so tanned with his 
 trade, that he will keep out water a great while; 
 and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson 
 dead body. Here's a skull now hath lain you i' 
 the earth three-and-twenty years. 
 
 Ham. Whose was it ? 
 
 1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was; Whose 
 do you think it was? 
 
 Ham. Nay, I know not. 
 
 I Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 
 he poured a llagon of Rhenish on my head once. 
 This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's 
 jester. 
 
 Ham. This? [Takes the Skull. 
 
 1 Clo. E'en that. 
 
 Ham.Alasl poor Yorick! — I kT.ew him, Horatio; 
 a (ellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he 
 hath borne me on nis back a thousand times; and 
 now liow abhorred in my imagination it is! my 
 gorge rises at it. Here iiung those lips, that I have 
 kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes 
 now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of 
 merriincnt,that were wont to set the table on a roar ? 
 not (me now, to mock your own grinning? quite 
 chap-fit lien ? Now get you to mj' lady's chamber, 
 and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this fa- 
 vor^ she must come: make her laugh at that. — 
 Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. 
 
 Hor. What's that, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander looked o' this 
 fashion i' the earth ? 
 
 Hor. E'en so. 
 
 Ham. And smelt so ? pah ! 
 
 [Throws down the SkulL 
 
 Hor. E'en so, my lord. 
 
 Ham. To wliat base uses we may return, Ho- 
 ratio! W'by may not imagination trace the noble 
 dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung- 
 hole? 
 
 Hor. 'Tvvere to consider too curiously, to con- 
 sider so. 
 
 Hum. No, faith, not a jot: but to follow him 
 thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead 
 it: As thus; Alexandenhed, Alexander was buried, 
 Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth ; of 
 earth we make loam: and why of that loam, where- 
 to he- was converted, might they not stop a bcer- 
 barrei ! 
 
 Imperious" Ctesar, dead, and turn'd to clay, 
 
 INIight stop a hole to keep tlie wind awny : 
 
 O. that the earth, which kept the world in awe. 
 
 Should natch a wall to expel the winter's llaw!i 
 But soft! out solt ! aside: — Here comes the king. 
 
 ' Ppruce. .ifTected. 
 9 Imperial. 
 
 8 Cuuntenance, comploxiou. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 PRIXCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 747 
 
 Eriter Priests, ^c, in Procession; the Corpse of 
 Ophelia, Laertes, and Mourners, following; 
 King, Queex, Iheir Trains, 4c. 
 
 The queen, the courtiers : Who is this thej- follow ? 
 And with scch maimed rites! This doth betoken. 
 The corpse tliey follow did with desperate hand 
 Fordo2 its own life. 'Twa.s of some estate ; 
 Couch ne a while, and mark. 
 
 [Retiring with Horatio. 
 Laer. What ceremony else ! 
 Ham. That is Laertes, 
 
 A very noble youth : Jlark. 
 Laer. What ceremony else ? 
 1 Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarged 
 As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful; 
 And, but that great command o'erswiiys the order. 
 She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd 
 Till the last triimpet ; for charitable prayers, 
 Shards,3 tiints, and pebbles, should be thrown on 
 
 her; 
 Yet here she is allow'd her virein crants,-* 
 Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home 
 Of bell and burial. 
 Laer. Must there no more be done? 
 1 Priest. No more be done ! 
 
 We should profane the service of the dead. 
 To sing a requiem,^ and such rest to her 
 As to peace-parted souls. 
 
 Laer. Lay her i' the earth ;— 
 
 And Irom her fair and unpolluted Hesh 
 Way violets spring !— I tell thee, churlish priest, 
 A niinistVing ansel shall my sister be. 
 When thou liest howling. 
 Ham. What ! the fair Ophelia ! 
 
 Queeii. Sweets to the sweet : Farewell ! 
 , . . . [ Scattering Flowers. 
 
 I hoped, thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ; 
 I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid. 
 And not have strew'd thy grave. 
 
 l-i'fr. O, treble woe 
 
 Fall ten times treble on that cursed head. 
 Whose wicked deed Ihv most ingenious sense 
 Deprived thee of !— Hold off the earth a while, 
 TiU I have caught her once more in mine arms : 
 
 [Leaps into ttie grave. 
 ftow pile your dust upon the quick<> and dead; 
 Till of this tlat a mountain you have made 
 Too'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head 
 Of blue Olympus. 
 
 ham. [Advancing.! AVhat is he whose grief 
 Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow 
 Conjures the waiid'ring stars, and makes them 
 
 stand 
 Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, 
 Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into t/ie grave. 
 
 Laer. The devil take thy soul ! 
 
 ^, [Grappling with him. 
 
 Ham. Thou pray'st not well. 
 I pr'yihee. take thy lingers from mv throat; 
 For, though I am not splenetive and rash, 
 Yet have I in me somct|iing dangerous. 
 Which, let thy wisdom fear : hold olf thy hand. 
 King. Pluck them asunder, 
 
 Q"(en. Hamlet! Hamlet! 
 
 All. Gentlemen, 
 
 Hot. Good my lord, be quiet, 
 
 {The Attendants part tikm, and they come 
 out if the (Irate. 
 
 Ham.Why.l will tight with him upon this theme 
 Lntil my eyelidswill no longer wag. 
 
 Queen. O mv son, what theme ! " 
 
 Ham. I lov'd Ophelia : Ibrty thousand brothers 
 Could not, with all their quantity of love, 
 Make up my sum,— What wilt thou do for her? 
 
 King. O, he is mad. Laertes, 
 
 Queen. For love of God, forbear him. 
 
 Ham. 'Zounds, show me what thou'lt do : 
 Woul't weep? woul't light? wouFt fast! 
 
 tear thyself? 
 Woul't drink up Esil ?' eat a crocodile? 
 I II do't.— Dost thou come here to whine? 
 To outface me with leaping in her grave ' 
 Be buried quick with her, and so will I : 
 And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw 
 Millions of acres on us; till our ground, 
 
 > Ctdo. destroy. » Broken pots or tiles. < Oarlands. 
 
 A mass fnr the dead. 6 Livioc. 
 
 ' Eisel is vinegar; but Mr. Stevens eonjectores the word 
 should be Wdiel, a river which &II3 into the Baltic Ocean 
 
 woul't 
 
 Singeing his pate against the burning zone. 
 Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thoul't mouth, 
 I'll rant as well as thou. 
 
 Queen. This is mere madness; 
 
 And thus a while the fit will work on him; 
 Anon, as patient as the female dove, 
 \Vhen that her golden couplets are disclos'd,^ 
 His silence will sit drooping. 
 
 Ham. Hear you, sir: 
 
 W hat is the reason that vou use me"thus ? 
 I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter; 
 Let Hercules himself do what he may, 
 The cat Bill mew, and dog will h.ivehis day, [Exit. 
 King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon 
 him,— [Exit Horatio, 
 
 Strengthen your patience in our lastniijhfs speech ; 
 
 W'll put the matter to the present push.— 
 
 Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.— 
 
 This grave shall have a living monument: 
 
 An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; 
 
 TiU then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— ,4 Hall in the Castle. 
 Enter Hamlet and Horatio. 
 Ham. So much lor this, sir: now, shall you see 
 the other; — 
 You do remember all the circumstance ? 
 Hor. Remember it, mv lord ? 
 Ham. Sir, in my heart iliere was a kind of fighting, 
 That would not let me sleep: methought, Tlay 
 Wor.se than the mutines* in the bilboe.s.' Itashly, 
 And prais"d be rashness for it.— Let us know. 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well. 
 When our deep plots do pall;-! and that should 
 
 teach us, 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we will. 
 
 ■f^'""- .. , That is most certain. 
 
 tiam. I p fi-om mv cabin. 
 My sea-gown scarl'd about me, in the dark 
 Groji'd 1 to find out them : had my desire; 
 Finger'd their packet; and, in fine, withdrew 
 To mine own room again : making so bold. 
 My fears forgetting manners, to unseal 
 Their grand commission ; where I Ibund, Horatio, 
 A royal knavery; an exact command. — 
 Larded with many several soils of reasons. 
 Importing Denmark's health, and Enirland's too, 
 U ith, ho! such bugs^ and goblins in my life,— 
 That on the super\ise, no leisure bated. 
 No, not to stay the grinding of the axe. 
 My head should be struck oil; 
 
 ^"^- „ . ^ Is't possible? 
 
 Jlaai. Here s the commission; read it at more 
 leisure. 
 But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed? 
 
 Hor. Ay, 'beseech you. 
 
 Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanics, 
 Or" I could make a prologue to mv brains. 
 They had begun the play ;— 1 sat'me down- 
 Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair: 
 I once did hold it, as our statist.*' do, 
 A baseness to write liiir, and labored much 
 How to forget that learning ; but. sir, now 
 It did me yeoman's service: Wilt thou know 
 The eflect of what I wrote? 
 
 ^f""- Av. good my lord. 
 
 Ham. An earnest conjuration tirom the'king,— 
 As England was his faithlul tributary; 
 As love between them hkc the palm might nourish- 
 As peace should still her w beaten garland wear. 
 And stand a comma* 'tween their amities; 
 .\iid many such like as's of great charge- 
 That, on the view and knowing of these contents 
 W ithout debalement further, more or less. 
 He should the bearers put to sudden death. 
 Not shriving' time allowed. 
 
 {'"'■■ How was this seal'd? 
 
 Ham. W hy.even in that was heaven ordinant : 
 I had my father's .signet in mv purse. 
 Which was the model of that' Danish seal: 
 F'lded the writ up in the Ibrm of the other; 
 »^-bscribed it; gave't the impression; placed it 
 
 salely. 
 The changehng never known : Now the ne.xt day 
 
 s Hatchi-d. , Mutineers, 
 
 letters and handcuffs brought from UUboa in Spain, 
 
 ^ *^^n. 3 Bugtiears. t Before. 
 
 • Statesmen. e A note of connection. » Confessing. 
 
748 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Was our sea-fiKtit; and what to this was sequent, 
 Thou kriow'st already. 
 Hor. So Guildenste'rii and Rosencrantz go to't. 
 Ham. Why man, tliey did make love to this 
 employment ; 
 They are not near my conscience ; their defeat 
 Does by their own insinuation grow : 
 'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes 
 Between the pass and fell incensed points 
 Of mighty opposiles. 
 ■?''"■• Why, what a king is this ! 
 
 Ha?n. Does itnot, think thee. stand me now upon 1 
 He thathath kiirdniyki;ig.and whor'd niymother; 
 Popp\i in between the election and my hopes; 
 Thrown out his angle for my proper life. 
 And with such cozenage ; is't not perfect con- 
 science. 
 To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be 
 
 damnM, 
 To let this canker of our nature come 
 In further evil ] 
 Hor. It must be shortly known to him from 
 England, 
 What is the issue of the business there. 
 
 Hrim. It will be short: the interim is mine; 
 And a man's life no more than to say, one. 
 Hut I am very sorry, good Horatio, 
 That to Laertes I forgot mj-self ; 
 For by the image of my cause, I see 
 The portraiture of his: I'll count' bis favors: 
 But. sure, the bravery of his grief did put me 
 Into a towering passion. 
 Hor. Peace ; who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Osric. 
 Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to 
 
 Denmark. 
 Ham. I humbly thank you, sir.— Dost know this 
 
 waterfly ? 
 Hnr. No, my good lord. 
 
 Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a 
 vice to know him : lie hath mncli land, and fertile: 
 let a beast be lord of l)''asts,and his crib shall stand 
 at the king's mess: 'Tis a chough ;S> but, as I say, 
 spacious in the possession of dirt. 
 
 Qir. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, 
 I should impart a thingto you from his majesty. 
 
 Hum. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of 
 spirit: Your bonnet to his right use ;* 'tis for the 
 head. 
 
 0.9)-. I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot. 
 Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold ; the wind is 
 northerly. 
 
 Osr. It is indifTercnt cold, my lord, indeed. 
 Ham. But yet, methinks, it is very sultry and 
 
 hot ; or my complexion 
 
 O.ir. Exceedingly, my lord: it is very sultry — 
 as 'twere, — I cannot tell how.— Jly lord, his t'na- 
 jesty bade me .signify to you, that' he has laid a 
 great w.ager on your head: Sir.this is the matter, — 
 
 Ham. I be.seecii you, remember 
 
 [Hamlet moves Mm to pat on Aw Hat. 
 i.>sr. Nay, good my lord ; for my ease, in good 
 ftith.i Sir, here is newly come to 'court. Laertes : 
 believe me. an absolute gentleman, full of most ex- 
 cellcut ditferences.2 of very soft society, and great 
 showing: Indeed, to speak feelingly of him. he is 
 the card^ or calendar of gentry, for'you shall find 
 in him the continent' of what part a gentleman 
 would see. 
 
 Hum. Sir, bis deflnement suffers no perdition in 
 yon ; — though. I know, to divide him inventorially, 
 would dizzy the arithmetic of memory ; and yet 
 but raw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But. 
 in the verity of exlolment. I take liirn to be a soul 
 nf great article; and his infusion of such dearth 
 and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his 
 seinhlable is his mirror; and. who else would trace 
 him. his umbrage, nothing more."- 
 Osr. Your lord-shipi-peaks most infallibly of him. 
 Ham. The concernaucy, sir ? why do vve warp 
 the gentleman in our more rawer breath 1 
 O.vr. Sir? 
 
 Hiir. Is't not possible to understand in another 
 tongue ? You will do't, sir, really. 
 
 • Mnke account of, v.ilne. • A bird like a jackdaw. 
 
 t The alTecti?d i)lir.'ise of tlio time. 
 
 ' i.'lstinguishing excelletu-i.'S. a Cnrnpas-l or rbart. 
 
 « 'I'lio country and pattern for imitation. 
 
 » Tliis ..;pt_'ecli isQ ridicule of the court jargon of that time. 
 
 Ham. What imports the nomination of this gen 
 tleman? 
 
 O.ir. Of Laertes ? 
 
 Hor. His purse is empty already; all his golden 
 words are spent. 
 
 Ham. Of him, sir. 
 
 Osr. I know, you are not ignorant 
 
 Ham. I would, you did, sir; yet. in faith, if you 
 did. it would not liiuch approved mo ;— Well. sir. 
 
 Osr. You are not ignorant -if what excellence 
 Laertes is 
 
 Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I shouU com- 
 pare with him in excellence; but, to know a man 
 well, were to know himself. 
 
 Osr. I mean, sir, lor his weapon ; but in the im- 
 putation laid on him by them, in his meed' he's 
 unfellowed. 
 
 Ham. What's his weapon! 
 
 Osr. Rapier and dagger. 
 
 Ham. That's two of his weapons; but, well. 
 
 Osr. The king, sir, hath wagered with him six 
 Barhary horses: against the which he has im- 
 pawned,? as I take it, six French rapiers and 
 poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers,^ 
 and so: Three of the carriages, in faith, are very 
 dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most 
 delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit. 
 
 Ham. What call you the carriages ? 
 
 Hor. I knew you must be edified by the mar- 
 gent,' ere yiwt had done. 
 
 Osr. The carriages, sir. are the batigers. 
 
 Ham. The phr.ase would be more german' to the 
 matter, if we could carry a cannon hy our sides; 
 I would, it might be hangers till then. But. on: 
 Six Barl)ary horses against six French swords, 
 theirassigns.and three liberal-conceiled carriages; 
 that's the French bet .against the Danish : Why is 
 this impawned, as you call it 1 
 
 O.ir. The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen 
 pas.ses between yourself and him. he shall not ex- 
 ceed you three hits; he hath laid, on twelve for 
 nine; and it would come to immediate trial, if your 
 lordship would vouchsafe the answer. 
 
 Ham. How, if I answer, no ? 
 
 Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your 
 person in trial. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall: If it 
 please his majesty, it is the breathing-time of day 
 with me: let the foils he brought, the gentleman 
 willing, and the king bold bis purpose. I will win 
 for him. if I can; if not. I will gain nothing but 
 my shame, and the odd liits. 
 
 Osr. Shall I deliver you so ? 
 
 Ham. To this ellect, sir; after what flourish 
 your nature will. 
 
 Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ham. Yours, yours. — He does well to commend 
 it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. 
 
 Hor. This lapwing'' runs away with the shell 
 on his head. 
 
 Ham. He did comply^ with his dug, before he 
 sucked it. Thus has he (and many more of the 
 same breed, that. I know, the drossy* age dotes on) 
 only got the tune of the time, and outward habit 
 of encounter; a kind of yesty collection, which 
 carries them fhrouih and'through the most fonds 
 and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to 
 their trial, the bubbles are out. 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lard. My lord, his majesty commended him to 
 you by young Osric. who brings back to liim, that 
 you attend him in the hall: He semis to know, if 
 your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that 
 yon will take longer time. 
 
 Ham. I am constant to my purposes, they fol- 
 low the knig's pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine 
 is ready; now, or whensoever, provided I be so 
 able as now. 
 
 Lord. The king, and queen, and all, are coining 
 down. 
 
 « Itecommend. •» Praise. » Staked. 
 
 » Tliat part of the belt Iiy which the sword w.as su> 
 pended. 
 
 * Mnrcin of a book wtiich contains explanatory notes. 
 •> Akin. 
 
 3 A l)ird which runs .about immediately it is batched. 
 
 * ronipliinent. * Worthless 
 « Yor/'nid read /an7i\I. 
 
Scene II. 
 
 PKINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 r49 
 
 Bam. In liappy lime. 
 
 Lord. The queen desires j'ou to use some gentle 
 entertainment to Laertes, before you fall to play. 
 
 Ham. She well instructs me. [Exit Lord. 
 
 Hur. You will lose this wager, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I do not think so; since he went into 
 France. I have been in continual practice ; I shall 
 win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think, how 
 ill all's here about my heart : but it is no matter. 
 
 Hot. Nay, good my lord, 
 
 Ham. It IS but foolery; but it is such a kind of 
 gain-giving," as would, perhaps, trouble a woman. 
 
 Hnr. If your mind diblike any thing, obey it: I 
 will fureslall their repair hither, and say, you are 
 not tit. 
 
 Hum. Not a whit; we defy augury; there is a 
 special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be 
 now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will 
 be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the 
 readiness is all: Snice no man. of aught he leaves, 
 knows, what is't to leave betimes ] Let be. 
 
 Enter Ki>'g, Queen, Laertfs. Lords, Osric, and 
 Attendants, with. Foils, ^c. 
 
 King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand 
 from me. 
 
 {The King puts the Hand of Laertes 
 into that of Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Give me your pardon, sir: I have done 
 you wrong; 
 But pardon it, as you are a gentleman. 
 This presence^ knows, and you must needs have 
 
 heard, 
 How T am punish'd with a sore distraction. 
 What I have done, 
 
 Tliut might your nature, honor, and exception, 
 Roui^lily awake, I here proclaim was madness. 
 Was't riamlet wronged Laertes 1 Never Hamlet ; 
 If Hamlet from him-^elf be ta'en away, 
 And, when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes, 
 Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. 
 Who does it, then ■ His madness : If 't be so, 
 Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd ; 
 His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. 
 Sir, in this audience, 
 Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil 
 Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, 
 That I have shot my arrow o'er the house. 
 And hurt my broth'er. 
 
 La'L')'. I am satisfied in nature. 
 
 Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most 
 To my revenge: but in my terms of honor 
 I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement. 
 Till by some elder masters of known Iionor, 
 I have a voice and precedent of peace. 
 To keep my name ungorM:'* Hut til! that time, 
 I do receive your offer*d love like love, 
 And will not wrong it. 
 
 Ham. I embrace it freely; 
 
 And will this brother's wager frankly play. — 
 Give us the foils ; come on. 
 
 Laer. Come, one for me. 
 
 Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes ; in mine igno- 
 rance 
 Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, 
 Stick fiery oft' indeed. 
 
 Laer, You mock me, sir. 
 
 Ham. No. by this hand. 
 
 King. Give them the foils, young Osric. — Cousin 
 Hamlet, 
 You know the wager] 
 
 Haiiti^ Very well, my lord ; 
 
 Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side. 
 
 King. I do not fear it: — I have seen you both: — 
 But since he's better'd, we have therefore odds. 
 
 Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another. 
 
 Ham. This likes me well : These foils have all 
 a length ] [Theij prepare to play. 
 
 Osr. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 King. Set me the stoups' of wine upon tliat 
 table:— 
 If Hamlet give the first or second hit, 
 Or quit in answer of the third exchange. 
 Let all the battlements their ordnance tire, 
 The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath ; 
 And in the cup an union^ shall he throw. 
 
 • Unwouuded. 
 > A precious pearl. 
 
 « The king and queen's presence. 
 * Large jugs. 
 
 Richer than (hat which four successive kings 
 
 la Denmark's crown have worn; Give me the 
 
 cups; 
 And let the kettle to the trumpet speak. 
 The trumpet to the cannoneer without, 
 The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, 
 Now the King drinks to Haniltt. — Come, begin;— 
 And you. the judges, bear a wary eye. 
 
 Ham. Come on, sir. 
 
 Laer. Come, my lord. [Thfij play. 
 
 Ham. - One. 
 
 Laer. No. 
 
 Ham. Judgment. 
 
 0<sr. A hit, a very palpable hit. 
 
 Laer. Well, — again. 
 
 King, Stay, give me drink: Hamlet, this pearl 
 is thine ; 
 Here's to thy health. — Give him the cup. 
 
 [Trumpets sound ; and Cannon 
 shot off within. 
 
 Ham. V\\ play this bout first, set it by a while. 
 Come. — Another hit; What say you? [They play* 
 
 Laer, A touch, a touch, I do conless. 
 
 King. Our son shall win. 
 
 Quee/i. He's fat, and scant of breath.— 
 
 Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows: 
 The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Good madam, 
 
 King. Gertrude, do not drink. 
 
 Queen, T will, my lord ; — I pray you. pardon me. 
 .King. Itisthe poison'd cup ; it is toolate. [Aside. 
 
 Ham. I dare not drink yet. madam; by-and-by. 
 
 Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. 
 
 L^ier. My lord, I'll hit him now. 
 
 King. I do not think it 
 
 Laer. And yet it is almost against my conscience , 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Ham. Come, tor the third, Laertes : You do but 
 dally; 
 I pray you, pass with your best violence; 
 I am aleard, you make a wanton^ of me. 
 
 Laer. Say you so! come on. [They play. 
 
 Osr. Nothing neither way. 
 
 Laer. Have at you now. 
 [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scujjliiig, 
 they change Rapiers, and Hamlet ivounds 
 Laertes. 
 
 King. Part them ; they are incens'd. 
 
 Hum. Nay, come again. [The Q^vees fulls. 
 
 Osr. Look to the queen there, ho ! 
 
 Hor. They bleed on botii sides:— How is it, my 
 lord! 
 
 Osr. How is't, Laertes 1 
 
 Laer. Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, 
 Osric ; ^ 
 I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. 
 
 Hum. How does the queen 1 
 
 King. She swoons to sec then^i bleed. 
 
 Queen, No, no, the drink, the drink, — O my 
 dear Hamlet ! — 
 The drink, the drink; — I am poison'd I [IHes. 
 
 Ham. O villany ! — Hoi let the door be lock'd : 
 Treachery ! seek it out. [LAERTEHfatls. 
 
 Laer. It is here. Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slam; 
 No mediciuffin the world can do thee good, 
 In thee there is ncil half an hour's life ; 
 The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, 
 Unbated,-" and enrcnom'd : the foul practice 
 Hath turn'd ib^elfon me; lo. here 1 lie. 
 Never to rise again : Thy mother's poison'd; 
 I can no more; the king, the king's to blame, 
 
 Hufu. The p(»int 
 Envenom'd too ! — then, venom, to thy work, 
 
 [Stabs the King- 
 
 Osr. ^ Lords. Treason ! treason ; 
 
 King. O, yet defend me friends, I am but hurt. 
 
 Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned 
 Dane, 
 Drink olf tliis potion: — Is thy union here? 
 Follow my mother. \ King dies, 
 
 Laer. He is justly serv'd; 
 
 It is a poison tempcr'dJ by himself. — 
 Exchange forgiveness wiih me, noble Hamlet: 
 Mine and my father's death come not upon thee. 
 Nor tliine on me ! [Dies. 
 
 Ham. Heaven make tliee free of it ! I loilow 
 thee. 
 
 3 Bov. 
 * Mixed. 
 
 * Not blunted; irithout a button. 
 
750 
 
 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DEMMARK. Act V. Scene II. 
 
 I am dead, Horatio: — Wretched queen, adieu! — 
 You that look pale and tremble at this chance, 
 That are but mutes or audience to this act. 
 Had I but time, (as this fell sergeant,^ death, 
 Is strict in his arrest,) O, I could tell j^ou, — 
 But let it be: — Horatio. I am dead; 
 Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright 
 To the unsatistied. 
 
 Hnr. Never believe it; 
 
 I am more an antique Roman than a Dane, 
 Here's yet some liquor lelt. 
 
 Ham. As thouVt a man, — 
 
 Give me the cup; let go ; by heaven Til have it. — 
 
 God ! — Horatio, what a wounded name, 
 Things slandin;; thus unknown, shall live behind 
 
 me ! 
 If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, 
 Abseut thee from felicity a while, 
 And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, 
 To tell my story. — 
 
 {March afar ojf, and Shot xvifhin. 
 What warlike noise is this? 
 Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come 
 from Poland, 
 To the ambassadors of England gives 
 This warlike volley. 
 
 Ham. 0, 1 die, Horatio; 
 
 The potent poison quite o"'er-crows my spirit ; 
 
 1 caunot live to hear the news from England: 
 But I do prophesy the election lights 
 
 On Fortinbras ; he has my dying voice ; , 
 
 So tell him, with the occurrents," more or less. 
 Which have solicited,^ — the rest is silence. [Dies. 
 Hor. Now cracks a noble heart; — Good-night, 
 sweet prince; 
 And nights of angels sing thee to thy rest ! 
 Why does the drum come hither] [March within. 
 Enter Fortinbras, the English Ambassadors, 
 
 and others. 
 Fort. Where is this sight? 
 
 Hot. What is it you would see ? 
 
 If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. 
 Fort. This quarry^ cries on havoc!' — O proud 
 death ! 
 
 • A Bergeant is a sheriffs officer. ' Occurrences. 
 
 • InciteJ. ^ Heap of dead game, 
 i A word of censure when more g.ime was destroyed 
 
 than was reasonable. 
 
 What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, 
 That thou so many princes, at a shot, 
 So bloodily hast struck 1 
 
 1 A/nb. The sight is dismal; 
 
 And our affairs from England come too late : 
 The ears are senseless, that should give us iiearing, 
 To tell him, his commandment is fulfill'd. 
 That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead: 
 Where should we have our thanks? 
 
 Hor. Not from his mouth, 
 
 Had it the ability of life to thank you ; 
 He never gave commandment for their death. 
 But since, so jump- upon ttiis bloody question, 
 You from the Polack^ wars, and you from England, 
 Are here arrivM; give order, that these bodies 
 High on a stage be placed to the view ; 
 And lot me speak, to the yet unknowing world, 
 How these things come about: 8o shall you hear 
 Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts ; 
 Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; 
 Of deaths put on by cunning, and forced cause; 
 And, in this upsliot, purposes mistook 
 Fall'n on the inventors' heads; all this can I 
 Truly deliver. 
 
 Fort. Let us haste to hear it. 
 
 And call the noblest to the audience. 
 For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune; 
 I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, 
 Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. 
 
 Hfrr. Of that I shall have also cause to speak, 
 And from his mouth whose voice will draw on 
 
 more : 
 But let this same be presently perform 'd, 
 Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mis- 
 chance. 
 On plots and errors, happen. 
 
 Fort. Let four captains 
 
 Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; 
 For he was likely, had he been put on, 
 To have prov'd most royally : and, for his passage, 
 The soldier's music, and the rites of war, 
 Speak loudly for him. — 
 Take up the bodies :— Such a sight as this 
 Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. 
 Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [A Dead March. 
 
 [Exeiinty bearing off the dead Bodies ; after 
 which, a Peal of Ordnance is shot off'. 
 • So exactly at the time. » Polish. 
 
OTHELLO, 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Duke of Vexice. 
 Braeaxtio. a Senator. 
 Two other Senators. 
 Ghatiano, Brol/ier to Brabantio. 
 LuDuvico. Kinsman to Brabantio. 
 Othello, lite Moor. 
 Cassio. Ais Lieutenant. 
 Iago, Aw Ancient. 
 RoDEiiiGO, a Venetian Gentleman. 
 MoNTASo, Otiiello's Predecessor in the Govern- 
 ment of Cyprus. 
 
 Clown, Seri'ant to Othello. 
 Herald. 
 
 Desdemona, Daughter to Brabantio, and IVife to 
 
 Othello. 
 EsnLiA, Wife to Iago. 
 BiA.vcA, a Courtezan, Mistress to Cassio. 
 
 Officers, Gentlemen, ^^essengers, Musicians, 
 SaiUirs, Attendants, ^c. 
 
 SCENE, fur the first Act, in Venice ; during the rest of the Play, at a Sea-port in C j'prus. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE L— Venice. A Street 
 
 Enter Roderigo and Iago. 
 
 Rod. Tush, never lell me, I take it much un- 
 kindly, 
 That thou, Iago, — who hast had my purse, 
 As if the strings were tJiine, — shouldst know of 
 this. 
 
 Iago. 'Sblood. but you will not hear me : — 
 If ever I did droam of such a matter, 
 Abhor me. 
 
 Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy 
 hate. 
 
 Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones 
 of tlie city, 
 In personal suit to make mc his lieutenant. 
 Oft capp'd' to him ;— alid, by the laith of man, 
 I know my price, I am woitli no worse a place: 
 But he, as loving liis own pnde and purposes, 
 Kvades them, with a bombast circumstance,^ 
 Horribly stulf'd with epitliets of war; 
 And. in conclusion, nonsuits 
 My mediators ; fhr certts,^ says he, 
 / have already choice my ojjiccr. 
 And what was he I 
 Forsooth, a great arithmetician, 
 One Micliael Cassio, a Florentine, 
 A %llow almost damnM in a fair wife ; 
 That never set a squadron in the held, 
 Nor the division of a battle knows 
 More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, 
 Wherein the toged consuls can propose 
 As masterly as he : mere prattle, without practice, 
 Isall his soldiership. But he, sir, had theelection: 
 And I.— of whom his eyes Iiad seen the proof 
 At Rhodes, at Cyprus ; and on other grounds 
 Christian and heathen, — mustbebe-lee'dandcalra*d 
 By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster ;•* 
 He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, 
 And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's an- 
 cient. 
 
 Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his 
 hangman. 
 
 Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of 
 service; 
 Preferment goes by letter, and affection, 
 Not by the old gradation, where each second 
 Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, 
 Whether I in any just term am attin'd^ 
 To love the Moor. 
 
 Rod. I would not follow him then. 
 
 Iago. O, sir, content you; 
 I follow him to serve my turn upon him : 
 
 ' Saluted. « Circuuilocutiou. 3 Certainly. 
 
 * It was anciently the practice to reckon up sums with 
 counters. * Related. 
 
 We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
 Cannot be truly foUow'd, You shall mark 
 Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave. 
 That, doting on his own obsequTous bondage, 
 Wears out liis time, much like his master's ass, 
 For naught but provender; and, when he's old, 
 
 cashicr'd ; 
 Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are, 
 Who, triinm'd in forms and visages of duty. 
 Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves; 
 And, throwing but shows of service on their lords. 
 Do wcU thrive by them, and when they have lined 
 
 their coats. 
 Do themselves Jiomage: these fellows have some 
 
 soul; 
 And such a one do 1 profess myself. 
 For, sir. 
 
 It is as sure as you are Roderigo, 
 Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: 
 In following hmi. I follow but myself; 
 Heaven is my judge, not I for Jove and duty, 
 But seeming so, for my peculiar end: 
 For when my outward action doth demonstrate 
 The native act and figure of my lieart 
 In compliment extern, 'tis not long after 
 But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
 For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. 
 
 Rod. What a full Ibrtune does tJie thick-lips owe,8 
 If he can carry 't thus ! 
 
 Iago. Call up her fether, 
 
 Rouse him : make after him, poison his delight, 
 Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, 
 And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 
 Plague him with tlies; though that his joy be joy, 
 Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, 
 As it may lose some color. 
 
 Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. 
 
 Iago. Do; with like timorous accent. and dire yell, 
 As when, by night and negligence, tile tire 
 Is spied in populous cities. 
 
 Rod. What ho ! Brabantio ! signior Brabantio, ho! 
 
 Iago. Awake! what ho! Brabantio! thieves! 
 thieves ! thieves! 
 Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags ! 
 Thieves I thieves! 
 
 Brabantio, above, at a Window. 
 
 Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons"^ 
 What is the matter there ! 
 
 Rod. Signior, is all your family within 1 
 
 Iago. Are your doors lock'd ] 
 
 Bra. Why ! wherefore ask you this? 
 
 Iago. Zounds, sir, you are robb'd ; for shame, put 
 on your gown ; 
 Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; 
 
 • Otvn, possess. 
 
 751 
 
r52 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Even now, very now. an old black ram 
 Is tuppinf^ your Vv'hitc ewe. Arise, arise ; 
 Awake tlie snorting citizens with tlie bell. 
 Or else tlie devil will make a grandsire of you : 
 Arise, I say. 
 Ura. What, have you lost your wits? 
 
 Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my 
 
 voice ? 
 Bra. Not I : What are you '> 
 Rcil. My name is— Roderigo. 
 Bra. The worse welcome ; 
 
 I liavc charged thee, not to haunt about my doors: 
 In honest piaiinicss thou hast lieard me say. 
 My duiigliter is not for thee ; and now, in madness, 
 Being full of supper, and distempering draughts, 
 Upon malicious bravery, dost thou coiue 
 T3 start my quiet. 
 
 Hod. Sir, sir, sir, sir, 
 
 Bra. But thou must needs be sure. 
 
 My spirit, and my place, have in them power 
 To make this bitter to thee. 
 B'lil. Patience, good sir. 
 
 Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbiug? this is 
 Venice ! 
 My house is not a grange.' 
 
 Rod. Most grave Brabantio, 
 
 In simple and pure soul I come to you. 
 
 lOKo. Zounds, sir, you are one of those, that will 
 not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we 
 come to do you service, you think we are ruffians: 
 You'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary 
 horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to yon; 
 you'll liave coursers for cousins, and gennets for 
 germans.« 
 Bra. What profane wretch art thou 7 
 lu/co. 1 am one, sir, tliat comes to tell you, your 
 dau!,'hler and the Moor are now making the beast 
 with two backs. ■ 
 Bra. Thou art a villain. 
 
 Ii'S". You are — a senator. 
 
 Bra. This thou shalt answer: I know thee, Ro- 
 
 derigo. 
 Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I be- 
 seech you, 
 If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent, 
 (As partly. I find, it is,) that your lair daughter. 
 At tins odd-evensi and dull watch o' the night. 
 Transported— vvitli no worse nor better guard. 
 But with a knave of commonhire, a gondolier — 
 To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, — 
 If this be known to you, and your allowance,' 
 We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; 
 But, if you know not this, my manners tell me. 
 We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe. 
 That, from the sense' of all civihty, 
 I thus would play and trilie with your reverence: 
 Your daughter,— if you have not given her leave,— 
 I say again, hath made a gross revolt ; 
 Tyiiig her duty, beauty, wit, and Ibrtunes, 
 In an extravagant^ ana wheeling stranger. 
 Of here and everywhere: Straight satisfy your- 
 self:' 
 If she be in her chamber, or your house. 
 Let loose on me the justice of the state 
 For thus deluding you. 
 
 Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho ! 
 
 Give me a taper;— call up all my people:— 
 This accident is not unlike my dream ; 
 Belief of it oppresses me already :— 
 Light, I say ! light ! [Exit from above, 
 
 lago. Farewell ; for I must leave you: 
 
 It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, 
 To be produced (as, if I stay, I shall) 
 Against the Moor: For. I do know, the state,— 
 However this may gall him with some check, — 
 Caniiot with safety cast him; for he's emhark'd 
 Willi such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars, 
 (Which even now stand in act,) that, for their 
 
 souls, 
 Anotlier of his fithom they have not. 
 To lead their business: in" which regard. 
 Though 1 do hate him as I do hell panis, 
 Y'et, lor necessity of present life, 
 I must show out a Hag and sign of love, 
 Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely 
 
 lind him. 
 Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search ; 
 And Iherc will 1 be with him. So farewell. [E:cit. 
 ' A lono Jiirm-house. e Relations. " Midniirht. 
 » ApprolatioD. a WanderiDg. 
 
 Enler below, Brabaxtio, and Servants wilh 
 Torches. 
 Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is; 
 And what's to coine of my despised time,3 
 Is naught but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, 
 Where didst thou see her?— O, unhappy girl !— 
 With the Moor,' say'st thou ?— Who would be a 
 
 father? — 
 How didst thou know 'twas she?— 0, thou deceiv'st 
 
 me 
 Past thought!— What said she to you?— Get more 
 
 tapers : 
 Raise all my kindred.— Are they married, think you? 
 Rod. Truly, I think, they are. 
 Bra. heaven!- how got she out?— 'reason 
 of the blood! — 
 Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds 
 By what you see them act.— Are there: not charms, 
 By which the property of youth and maidhood 
 May be abus'd ? Have you not read, Roderigo, 
 Of some such thing? 
 Rod. Yes, sir ; I have indeed. 
 
 Bra. Call up my brother.— O, that you had had 
 her! — 
 Some one way, some another.— Do you know 
 Vhere we maj- apprehend her and the Jdoor ? 
 
 Roil. I tliink, I can discover him: if you please 
 To get good guard, and go along with me. 
 
 Bi-a. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; 
 I may command at most;— liet weapons, ho ! 
 And raise some special olticers of night. — 
 On, good Roderigo :— I'll deserve your pains. 
 
 [Exeu7tl. 
 SCENE Ih— Another SIreet. 
 Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants. 
 logo. Though in the trade of war I have slain 
 men. 
 Yet do I hold it very stufTo' the conscience. 
 To do no contriv'd "murder; I lack iniquity 
 Sometimes, to do me service: Nine or ten times 
 I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the 
 ribs. 
 OM- 'Tis better as it is. 
 lego. Nay, but he prated, 
 
 And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms 
 Against your honor. 
 That with the little godliness I have, 
 I did full hard tbrbear him. But, I pray, sir. 
 Are you fast married? lor. be sure of this,— 
 That the magnifieo^ is mucli belov'd ; 
 And hath, in hiselli?ct, a voice potential 
 As double as the duke's; he will divorce you; 
 Or put upon you what restraint and grievance 
 The law (with all his might, to cnlbrce it on) 
 Will give him cable. 
 
 OIL Let him do his spite : 
 
 My services, which I have done the signiory. 
 Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to laiow, 
 (Which when I know that boasting is an honor, 
 1 shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being 
 From men of royal siege ;5 and my demerits" • 
 May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune 
 As this that I have reach'd : For know, Iago, 
 But that I love the gentle Desdcmoiin, 
 I would not my unlioused free condilion 
 Put into circumscription and conline 
 For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come 
 yonder? 
 
 Enter Cassio, at a distance, and certain Ollicers 
 ivith Torches. 
 
 Iago. These are the raised father, and his ftiends : 
 Y"ou were best go in. 
 
 0th. Not I : I must be found ; 
 
 My parts, my title, and my perfect soul, 
 Shall manliest me rightly. Is it they ? 
 
 Iago. By Janus, I think no. 
 
 01 li. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. 
 The goodness of the night upon you, friends! 
 What is the news? 
 
 Cas. The duke does greet you, general ; 
 
 And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, 
 Even on the instant. 
 
 Olh. What is the matter, think you ? 
 
 Cas. Something from Cyprus, as 1 may divine; 
 It is a business of some heat: the galleys 
 
 3 (llii af;e. < Brabantio. Magnifico is liis title as senator. 
 
 * Scat nr thrnni'. 
 
 " Uemeiits has the same meaning in Shakspeare as merits. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 753 
 
 H.ive sent a dozen sequent messengers 
 
 This very ni^ht at one another's heels; 
 
 And many of the consuJs, raised, and met, 
 
 Are at tlie duke's already: You have been liotly 
 
 call'd for; 
 When, beini; not at your lodsinf? to be found. 
 The senate hath sent about three several quests, 
 To search you out. 
 
 Olh. 'Tis well I am found by you. 
 
 1 will but spend a word here in the house. 
 And go with you. [Exit- 
 
 Cos. • Ancient, what makes he here ] 
 
 lago. 'Faith, he to-night lialh boarded a land 
 carack;" 
 If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. 
 
 Cas. I do not understand. 
 
 Jago. He's married. 
 
 Cas. To who ! 
 
 Re-enter Otrello. 
 
 lago. Marry, to — Come, captain, will you go ! 
 
 Otii. Have with you. 
 
 Cas. Here comes another troop to seek lor you. 
 
 Enter Brabantio. Roderigo, and Officers nfnislit, 
 
 wUtt Torches and JVeajxms. 
 
 lago. It is Brabantio:— general, be advis'd; 
 He c«mes to bad intent. 
 
 0/A. Hola ! stand there ! 
 
 Rod. Signior, it is the Moor. 
 
 Bra. Down with him, thief! 
 
 [They draw on both shies. 
 
 logo. You, Roderigo! come sir, I am for you. 
 
 0th. Keep up your bright swords, for tlie dew 
 will rust ihem. — 
 flood signior, you shall more command with years. 
 Than willi your weapons. 
 
 Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd 
 my daughter 1 
 Bamn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her: 
 For I'll refer me to all things of sense. 
 If she in cliains of magic were not bound. 
 Whether a maid— so tender, fair, and happy; 
 So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd 
 Tlie wealthy curled darlings of our nation, 
 Would ever have, to incur a general mock. 
 Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom 
 f If such a thing as thou : to fear, not to delight. 
 Judge me the world, if 'lis not gross in sense. 
 That Ihou hast praclis'd on her with foul charms: 
 Abus'd her delicate youtli with drugs. or minerals 
 That waken motion : — I'll have it disputed on ; 
 'Tis probable, and palpable lo thinking. 
 I therefore apprehend and do attarh thee, 
 For an abuser of the world, a practiser 
 Of arts inhibited and out of warrant: — 
 Lay hold upon him ; if he do resist, 
 Subdue him at his peril. 
 
 0th. Hold your hands, 
 
 Both you of my inclining, and tlie rest: 
 Were'it my cue to fight. I should have kiiown it 
 Without a prompter.— Where will you that I go 
 To answer this your cliarge ? 
 
 Bra. To prison : till fit time 
 
 Of law, and course of direct session. 
 Call thee to answer. 
 
 Olh. What ifl do obey? 
 
 How may the duke be therewith satisfied ; 
 Whose messengers are here about my side, 
 Upon some present business of the slate, 
 To bring me to him ? 
 
 Off. _ 'Tis true, most worthy signior. 
 
 The duke s in council ; and your noble self, 
 I am sure, is sent for. 
 
 Bra. How! the duke in council 
 
 In Ibis time of the night !—Brin:; him away; 
 Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself. 
 Or any of my brothers of the state. 
 Cannot but led this wrong, as 'twere their own : 
 For if such actions may have passage free, 
 Bond-sUves, and pagans, shall our statesmen be. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE III.— ^ Conncil Chamber. 
 The Duke and Senators, si/fing at a Table; Offi- 
 cers altending. 
 
 Duke. There is no eomposilion' in these news, 
 That gives them credit. 
 
 1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion 'd ; 
 
 My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys. 
 ' A rich vessel. • Consistency. 
 
 48 
 
 Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 
 
 2 Sen. And mine, two hundred: 
 
 But though they jump not on a just account, 
 (As in these cases, where the aiin^ reports, 
 'Tis oft with dillerence,) yet do they all confirm 
 A Turkish fleet, and bearing up lo Cyprus. 
 
 Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment; 
 I do not so secure me in the error, 
 But the main article I do approve 
 la fearful j-ense. 
 
 Suiliir. [Within.] What ho ! what ho! what ho! 
 Enter an Oflicer, with a Sailor. 
 
 Off. A messenger iVotu the galleys. 
 
 Duke. Now Mhe business ? 
 
 Sailar. The Turkish preparation makes lijr 
 Rliodes: 
 So was 1 bid report here to the state. 
 By signior Angclo. 
 
 Duke. Iloiv say you by this change ? 
 
 1 Sen. This cannot be, 
 
 By no a.ssay of reason; 'tis a pageant. 
 To kcei> us in false gaze : Wlien we consider 
 The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk; 
 And let ourselves again but understand. 
 That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, 
 So may lie with more facile question' bear if. 
 For that it stands not in such warlike Ijrace,^ 
 But altogether lacks the abilities 
 That Rhodes is dress'd in: — if we make thought 
 
 of this. 
 We must nut think, the Turk is so unskilful. 
 To leave that latest which concerns him first; 
 Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain. 
 To wake and wagc^ a danger protilless. 
 
 Duke. Kay.iii all confidence, he's not forRhodcs. 
 
 Off. Here is more news. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. The Ottomifes, reverend and gracious. 
 Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes. 
 Have there injointed tiiein with an after fleet. 
 
 1 Sen. Ay, .so I thought:— Ho%v many, as you 
 guess 1 
 
 Utess. Of thirly sail: and now do they re-stem 
 Their backward course, bearing witli frank appear- 
 ance 
 Their purposes toward Cyprus.— Signior Jlontano, 
 Your trusly and most valiant servilor. 
 With his free duty recommends you thus, 
 .\iid praj^s yon to believe Inin. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis certain then lor Cyprus. — 
 Marcus Lucchcse, is he not in town ! 
 
 1 Sen. He's now in Florence. 
 
 Duke. Write lioin us; wish him post post-haste; 
 despatch. 
 
 I Sen. Here conies Brabantio and the valiant 
 Moor. 
 Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Rodehigo, and 
 Oflicers, 
 
 Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ 
 you 
 Against the general enemy Oltoman. 
 I did not see you ; welcome, gentle signior; 
 
 [Tl) BRAEANTlq. 
 
 We lack'd your coun-sel and your help to-night. 
 
 Bra. So did, I yours: Good your grace, pardon 
 me ; 
 Neither iny place, nor aught I heard of business, 
 llaih lais'd me from iny bed; nor doth the general 
 
 care 
 Take hold on tne; for my particular grief 
 Is of so flood-gate and o'erbcaring nature, 
 Tliat it engliils and swallows other sorrows, 
 .\ud iUs still itself. 
 
 Duke. Why, what's the matter! 
 
 Bra. ,My daughter! O, my daughter! 
 
 Sen. Dead t 
 
 Bra. _ _ Ay, to me; 
 
 She is abus d, slol n from me, and corrupted 
 By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks : 
 For nature so |)reposterously to err, 
 Being not deticient, blind, or lame of sense, 
 Sans^ witchcraft could not 
 
 Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul pro- 
 ceeding, 
 Hath thus beguii'd your daughter of herself, 
 And you of her, the bloody book of law 
 You shall yourself read in the bitter letter, 
 
 • Conjecture. ' Easy dispute. 3 sute of dalsnoe, 
 
 » Combat. < Without. 
 
54 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act L 
 
 After your own prnsc ; yea,*though our proper son 
 Stood in your action.'' 
 
 Bra. ' TTiimbly I thank your grace. 
 
 Here is the man. this Moor; whom now, it seems, 
 Your special mandatR, for the state atfairs, 
 Hath hither brought. 
 
 Bul'e ^- SeiJ. We are very sorry for it. 
 
 Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to 
 ihisi [To Othello. 
 
 Sra. Nothing but this is so. 
 
 Ofh. Most potent, prave. and reverend signiors, 
 My very noble and approv'd good masters.— 
 That I have taVn away this old man's daughter, 
 It is most true; true. I have married licr; 
 The very head and front of my olTending 
 Hath this extent, no more. Ilude am I in my 
 
 speech. 
 And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; 
 For since these arms of mine had seven yi^ars^pith. 
 Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 
 Their dearest action^ in the tented field; 
 And little of this grrat world can I speak, 
 I\Inre than pcrlains to feats of broil and battle ; 
 And therefore little shall I grace my cause, 
 In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa- 
 tience, 
 I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 
 Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what 
 
 charms. 
 What conjuration, and what mighty magic. 
 ' For such proceeding J am charged withal,) 
 
 I won liis daughter with. 
 
 Bra. A maiden never bold ; 
 
 Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion 
 lilush'd at herself; and slie, — in spite of nature, 
 Of years, of country, credit, every thing. — 
 To fall in love with wjtat she fear'd to look on T 
 It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect, 
 That will confess — perrection so could err 
 Ag.Tinst all rules of nature, and must he driven 
 To find out practices of cunning hell. 
 Why this should be. I therefore vouch again. 
 That with some mixtures powerful o'er tlie blood, 
 Or with some dram conjurd to this eflect, 
 He wrought upon her. 
 
 Duke. To vouch this is no proof; 
 
 Without more certain and more overt test."' 
 Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods 
 Ofmodern seeminL%s do prefer against him. 
 
 1 Sen. But, Othello, speak;— 
 Did you by indirect and forced courses 
 Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? 
 Or came it by request, of such fair question 
 As soul to soul alfbrdeth 1 
 
 0th. I do beseech you, 
 
 Fend for the lady to the Sagitrary,^ 
 And let her speak of me before her father: 
 
 II you do find me foul in her report. 
 The trust, the ofiicc, I do hold of you, 
 Not only take away, but let your sentence 
 Ev"u (all upon my life. 
 
 Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. 
 
 Olh. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the 
 place. — [Exeunt Iago ajid Attendants. 
 And, till she come, as truly as to heaven 
 1 do confess the vices of my blood, 
 So justly to your g.rave years I'll present 
 How I (lid thrive in this" fair lady^'s love. 
 And she is mine. 
 
 Duke. Say it, Othello. 
 
 Oth. Her father lov'd nie,ofl invited me; 
 Still question'd me the story of my life, 
 From year to year ; the batlles, sieges, fortiyjes, 
 That I have pass'd. 
 
 1 nin it through, even from my boyish days, 
 To the very moment that he bade me teU'it. 
 Wiierein I spoke of most disastrous chances, 
 Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; 
 Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly 
 
 breach ; 
 Of being taken by the insolent foe. 
 And sold to slavery; of my redemption thenco. 
 And porlance' in my travel's history: 
 Wherein otantres- vast, and deserts idle. 
 Rough quarries, rocks, and lulls whose heads touch 
 heaven, 
 
 fc Acpusatifin. s Post nxprtion. 
 
 T Open proof. * AVciik show. 
 
 Tlie Kign of the fictitious crc.ituro so rnlli^Tl, 
 * My behavior. ' Caves and dens. 
 
 It was my hint to speak, such was the process 
 
 And of tlie Cannibals that each other eat, 
 
 The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
 
 Do grow beneath their sJiouIders. These things to 
 
 hear, 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline : 
 But still the house atTairs would draw her thence; 
 Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
 She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
 Devour up my discourse: Which I observing. 
 Took once a pliant hour; and found good meana 
 To draw from her a prayer of earnest, heart, 
 That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 
 Whereof by parcels she had something heard. 
 But not inteutively :3 I did consent ; 
 And ofien did beguile her of her tears. 
 When I did speak of some distressful stroke. 
 That my youth sufTer'd. My story being done. 
 She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: 
 She swore, — In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing 
 
 strange; 
 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : 
 She wish'd, she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd 
 That heaven had made her such^a man: she 
 
 thank'd me ; 
 And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, 
 1 should but teach him how to tell my story. 
 And that would woo her. Upon this hint, 1 spake; 
 She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd; 
 And I lov'd her. that she did pity them. 
 This only is the witchcrall I have used: . 
 Here comes the lady, let her witness it. 
 
 Enter Desdemoka, Iaoo, c/Zfi Attendants. 
 
 Duke. I think, this tale would win my daughter 
 too. — 
 Good Brabantio, 
 
 Take up this mangled matter at the best: 
 Men do their broken weapons rather use, 
 Thau their bare hands. 
 
 Bra. I pray you, hear her speak; 
 
 Ifshe confess, that she was half the wooer, 
 Destruction on mv tiead, if my had blame 
 Light on the man'!— Come hithcr.gentle mistress; 
 Do you perceive in ail this noble company. 
 Where most you owe obedience ! 
 
 Des. My noble father, 
 
 I do perceive here a divided duty : 
 To you I am bound for life and education ; 
 My life, and education, both do learn mo 
 How to respect you ; yon arc the lord of duty, 
 I am hitherto' your daughter: But here's my hus- 
 band ; 
 And so much duty as my mother show'd 
 To you. preferring you IJefore her father. 
 So much I challenge that I may profess 
 Due to tiie Moor, my lord. 
 
 Bra. God be with you ! — I have done. — 
 
 Please it your grace, on to the stale atlairs: 
 I had rather to adopt a child, than get it. — 
 Come hither, Moor : 
 
 I here do give thee that with all my heart. 
 Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart 
 I would keep from thee. — For your sake, jewel, 
 I am glad at soul I have no oilier child ; 
 For thy escape would teach me tyranny, 
 To hang clogs on them.— I have done, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a 
 sentence, 
 Which, as a grise,^ or step, may help these lovers 
 Into your favop. 
 
 When remedies are past, the griefs are ended. 
 By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. 
 To mourn a miscliief that is past and gone. 
 Is the next way to draw new mischief on. 
 What cannot be preserv'd when fortune takes 
 Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
 The robb'd. that smiles, steals something from the 
 
 thief; 
 He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief. 
 
 Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile ; 
 We lose it not, so long as we can smile. 
 He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears 
 But the free comfort which from thence he hears 
 But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow. 
 That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. 
 These sentences, to sugar, or to gall. 
 Being strong on both sides, are equivocal : 
 
 3 Intention and attention were once synonymous. 
 « Grise, from degrees. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 But words are words; I never yet did hear. 
 
 That the bruis'd heart was pierced throiijih the ear. 
 
 I humbly beseech you, proceed totheaflairsot'stnte. 
 
 Duke, Tlie Turk with a most mighty preparation 
 makes tor Cyprus: — OHiclIo, the fortitude of the 
 place is best known to you : And though we have 
 there a substitute of most allowed sufJiciency, yet 
 opinion, a sovereign mistress of ellects, throws a 
 more safer voice on you: you must therefore be 
 cuntonlto slubber^ the gloss of your new fortunes 
 with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition. 
 
 0/k. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, 
 Hatli made the flinty and stce! couch of war 
 RIj' thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize^ 
 A natural and prompt alacrity, 
 I find in hardness, and do undertake 
 These jirescnt wars airainst tlie Ottomites. 
 Most humbly tlierefore bending to your state, 
 I crave tit disposition for my wile; 
 Due reference of place, and exhibition"^ 
 With such accommodation, and besort, 
 As levels witli her breeding. 
 
 Duke. If you please, 
 
 Be't at her father''s. 
 
 Bra. ni not have it so. 
 
 Of ft. Nor I. 
 
 Des. Nor I ; I would not there reside, 
 
 To put my father in impatient thoughts. 
 By being in tiis eye. Most gracious duke, 
 To my unfolding lend a gracious ear; 
 And let me tind a charter in your voice, 
 To assist my simpleness. 
 
 Duke. Wliat would you, Desdemona 1 
 
 Defy. That I did lovc'the Moor to live with him. 
 My downright violence and storm of fortunes 
 May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdued 
 Even to the very quality of my lord : 
 I saw Othello's visage in his mind; 
 And to his honors, and his valiant parts. 
 Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. 
 So that, dear lords, if 1 be leR behind, 
 A moth of peace, and he go to the war. 
 The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me. 
 And I a heavy interim shall support 
 By his dear absence: Let me go with him. 
 
 0/A. Your voices, lords: — 'beseech you, let her will 
 Have a free way. 
 
 Vouch with me, heaven; I therefore beg it not, 
 To please the palate of my appetite: 
 Nor to comply with heat, the young afiects,^ 
 In my distinct and proper satisfaction ; 
 But (o be free and bounteous to her mind : 
 And heaven defend^ your good souls, that you 
 
 think 
 I will your serious and great business scant. 
 For' she is with me : No, when light-wing'd toys 
 Of feathcr'd Cupid seel-^ with wanton dulness 
 My speculative and active instruments, 
 That my disports corrupt and taint my business. 
 Let housewives make a skillet^ of my helm,' 
 And all indign and base adversities 
 Make head against my estimation ! 
 
 Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, 
 Either for her stay, or going: the aflair cries^ 
 
 haste, 
 And speed must answer it; you must hence to- 
 night. 
 
 Df.s. To-night, my lord 1 
 
 Duke. This night. 
 
 Offi, With all mv heart. 
 
 Duke. At nine i* the morning here we'll meet 
 again. 
 Othello, leave some officer behind, 
 And he shall our commission bring to you ; 
 With such things else of quality and respect, 
 As doth import you. 
 
 Otfi. Please your grace, my ancient; 
 
 A man he is of honesty and trust: 
 To his conveyance I assign my wife, 
 With what else needful yourgood grace shall think 
 To be sent af'.cr me. 
 
 Duke. Let it be so. — 
 
 Good-night to every one, — And, noble signior, 
 
 [To Brabantio. 
 If virtue no delighted beauty lack. 
 Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 
 
 1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well. 
 
 • Obscure, 
 8 Affi'ctioiiS. 
 a liliud. 
 
 « Acknowledge. 
 
 1 Forbid. 
 
 3 A small kettle. 
 
 ' Allowance. 
 * Rt'f'iiuRe. 
 « Ilolmet. 
 
 Bra. Look to her. Moor; have a quick eye to see ; 
 She has dcccivM lier lather, and may thee. 
 
 \Exeuni Duke, Senators, Oflicers, ^c. 
 
 Offi. My lile upon her laith. — Honest lago. 
 My Desdemona must I leave to thee ; 
 I pry 'thee, let thy wife attend on her; 
 And bring them after in the best advantage. — 
 Come, Desdemona ; I have but an Iiour 
 Of love, of worldly matters and direction, 
 To spend with thee : we must obey tlie lime. 
 
 {£j:euni (;tuellu and Desdemoxa. 
 
 Rod. lago. 
 
 Jago. What say'st thou, noble heart! 
 
 Rod. What will I do, thinkesl thou ] 
 
 luf^o. Why, go to bed, and sleep. 
 
 Rod. I will incontinently^ drown myself. 
 
 la^o. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee 
 after it. Why, thou silly ^rentleman ! 
 
 Rod. It is trilliness to "live, when to live is a tor- 
 ment; and then have we a prescription to die, when 
 death is our physician. 
 
 Rif^o. O villainous! I have looked upon the world 
 for lour times seven years! and since I could dis- 
 tinguish between a benefit and an injury, 1 never 
 Ibund a man that knew how to love himself. Ere 
 1 would say, I would drown myself for the love of 
 a Guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with 
 a baboon. 
 
 Rod. What should I dol I confess it is my 
 shame to be so fond; but it is not in virtue lo 
 amend it. 
 
 logo. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we 
 are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, lo 
 the whicli, our wills are gardeners: so tliat if we 
 will plant nettles, or sow lettuce; set hyssop, and 
 weed up thyme;supp]y it with one gender of herbs, 
 or distract it with many; either to have it steril 
 with idleness, or manured with industry; why, tlie 
 power and corrigible autiiority of tJiis lies in our 
 wills. If tlie balance of our lives liad not one scale 
 of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood 
 and baseness of our natures would conduct us to 
 mo.st preposterous conclusions: Butwe have reason 
 to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our 
 unbitted^ lust; whereof I take this, that you call — 
 love, to be a sect' or scion. 
 
 Riid. It cannot be. 
 
 laf^o. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a per- 
 mission of the will. Come, be a man : Drown thy- 
 self f drown cats and blind puppies. I have pro- 
 fessed me thy Iriend, and I conless me knit to thy 
 deserving with cables of perduralile toughness; I 
 could never belter stead thee than now. Put 
 money in thy purse; follow these wars; defeat thy 
 liivor with an usurped beard !■* I say, put money in 
 tliy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should 
 long continue her love to tlie Moor, — put money in 
 thy purse; — nor he his to her; it was a violent com- 
 mencement, and thou shall see an answerable se- 
 questration;— put but money in thy purse. — These 
 Moors are changeable in their wills; — till tliy purse 
 with money: the food that to him now is as lus- 
 cious asloc^usts. shall be to him shortly as bitter as 
 coloquintida. She must change for youth: when 
 she is sated with his body, she will lind the error 
 of her choice. — She must liave cliange, she must: 
 therefore put money in thy purse,— If thou wilt 
 needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than 
 drnwning. Make all the money thou canst: If 
 sanctimony, and a trail vow betwixt an ening bar- 
 barian and asupcrsubtle Venetian, be not too hard 
 for my wits,andall the tribe of hell, thou shalt en- 
 joy her; tlierefore make money. A pox of drown- 
 ing thysell ! it is clean out of the way: seek thou 
 rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy, than to 
 be drowned and go without her. 
 
 Rod. Wilt thou be layt to my hopes, if I depend 
 on llic issue \ 
 
 Rigo. Tlion art sure of me;— Go, make money: 
 — 1 liave told thee often, and I re-Ieil thee again 
 and again, 1 liate tlie Moor: My cause is hearted; 
 thine liath no less reason: Let us be conjunctive in 
 our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold 
 him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. 
 There are many events in the womb of time, which 
 will be delivered. Traverse ;» go ; provide thy 
 
 i TuiDipdiately. 6 Unbridled. 
 
 1 A si'ct is wb;it the gardeners call a culling. 
 ■ Chaiii^e yutir couutenance with a IJdse beard. 
 » An ;iu(.ii;ut military word of commaud. 
 
756 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IL 
 
 money. We wUl have more of this to-morrow. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 Jiod. Where shall we meet i' the morning'! 
 
 lago. At my lorlging. 
 
 lio-l. rii he witli thee betimes. 
 
 Ifigo. Go to; tarewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? 
 
 Rod. What say you? 
 
 logo. No more of drowning, do you hear 1 
 
 JioiL I am ehanged. I'll sell all my laud. 
 
 Itign. Go to; tarewell; put money enough in 
 your purse. [Exit Roderigo. 
 
 Thus do I ever make my fool my purse : 
 For I mine own gain'd knowledj^e should profane, 
 If I would time expend with such a snipe, 
 IJut for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; 
 And it is thought abroad, that twixt my sheets 
 He has done my office: 1 know not ift be true; 
 
 But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, 
 Will do, as if for surety. He holds me well'* 
 The better shall my purpose work on him. 
 Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now; < 
 To get his place, and to plume up my will ; 
 A double knavery, — How I how! — Let me see: — 
 After some time, to abuse Otheliu's ear. 
 That he is too liimiliar with his wife:— 
 He hatha person, and a smooth dispose. 
 To be suspected; Iramed to make women false, 
 TJie Moor is of a free and open nature, 
 That thinks men honest that but seem to be so* 
 And will as tenderly be led by the nose, 
 As asses arc. 
 
 I have''t; — it is engendered: — Hell and night 
 Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. 
 
 {£xit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ Sea-pf}rf Town in Cyprus. A 
 Plafjhrm. 
 Enfer Montano and two Gentlemen. 
 M(m. What from the cape can you discern at sea? 
 
 1 Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought 
 
 tlood; 
 I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, 
 Descry a sail. 
 Mon. Methinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at 
 land; 
 A fuller blast neVr shook our battlements: 
 If it hath rufhan'd so upon the sea. 
 What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, 
 Can hold the mortise ? what shall we hear of this I 
 
 2 Gent. A segregation' of the Turkish lleet: 
 Fnr do but stand upon the foaming shore, 
 The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds; 
 TJic wind-sliaked surge, with high and monstrous 
 
 main. 
 Seems to cast water on the burning bear,2 
 And quench the guards of the ever-tixed pole: 
 1 never did like molestation view 
 On ih' enchaled Hood. 
 
 Mon, If that the Turkish fleet 
 
 Be not inshelter'd and embayM, they are drown'd : 
 It is impossible they bear it out. 
 
 Enter a third Gentleman. 
 
 3 Gent. News, lords! our wars are done: 
 
 The desperate tempest hath so l)ang'd the Turks, 
 That their desifinment halts: A nobleship of Venice 
 Hath seen a grievous wreck and suflerance 
 On most part of their lleet. 
 
 Mon. How! is tljis true! 
 
 3 Gent. The ship is here put in, 
 A Veronese; Michael Cassiu, 
 Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, 
 Is come on shore : The Moor himself 's at sea, 
 And is in full commission here lor Cyprus. 
 
 Miin. I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor. 
 
 3 Gent. But this same Cassio,— though he speak 
 of comlbrt. 
 Touching the Turkish loss, — yet he looks sadly, 
 And prays Ihe Moor be safe; Ibr they were parted 
 Wi;h ibul and violent tempest. 
 
 Mun. 'Pray heaven he be; 
 
 For I have serv'd him, and the man commands 
 Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side, ho ! 
 As well to see the vessel tiiat's come in. 
 As to throw out our eyes Ibr brave Othello ; 
 Even till we make the main, and the aerial blue, 
 An indistinct regard. 
 
 3 Gent. Come, let's do so; 
 
 For every minute is expectancy 
 Of more arrivancc. 
 
 E?iter Cassio. 
 
 Cas, Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle. 
 That so approve the Moor: O, let the heavens 
 Give him defence against the elements. 
 For I have lost him on a dangerous sea! 
 
 Man. Is he well shippM ] 
 
 Cos. His bark i-^ stonily timhcr'd, and his pilot 
 Of very expert and appruv'd allowance :^ 
 * Si'paratloii. 
 
 ■ 'the consti-'llntion near the polar star. 
 > Allowed HuU approved expcrtueba. 
 
 Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death. 
 Stand in bold cure. 
 
 [ JViihin.] A sail, a sail, a sail ! 
 
 Enfer a Gentleman. 
 
 Cff.^r. AVhat noise ] 
 
 4 Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o' the 
 sea 
 St^ind ranks of people, and they cry — a sail, 
 
 Cos. My hopes do sliape him ibr the governor. 
 
 2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of cour- 
 tesy : [Guns heard. 
 Our friends, at least. 
 
 Cas. 1 pray you, sir, go forth, 
 
 And give us truth who 'lis that is arrived. 
 
 2 Gent. 1 shall. [Exit. 
 
 Mon. But. good lieutenant, is your general wived 1 
 
 Cas. Most fortunately : he hath achiev'd a maid 
 That paragons description, and wild tame; 
 One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens. 
 And in the essential vesture of creation. 
 Does bear all excellency. — How now! who has 
 put in ] 
 
 Re-enter second Gentleman. 
 
 2 Gent. 'Tis one lago, ancient to the general. 
 
 Co*. He has had most favorable and happy 
 speed : 
 Tempests themselves, high seas,and howling winds 
 Tlie gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, — 
 Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, 
 As having sense of beauty, do omit 
 Their mortal^ natures, letting go safely by 
 The divine Desdcmona. 
 
 Mo?i. What is shel 
 
 Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's 
 captain, 
 Lefl in the conduct of the bold Tago ; 
 Wiiose footing here anticipates our tlioughts, 
 A se'nnight's speed.— Great Jove, Othello guard, 
 And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath; 
 That lie may bless this bay with his tall ship. 
 Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, 
 Give renew'd tire to our extincted spirits, 
 And bring all Cyprus comfort! — 0, behold, 
 
 Enter Desdemosa, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and 
 
 Attendants. 
 The riches of the ship is come on shore! 
 Ve men of Cyprus, let her have your knees; — 
 Hail to thee, lady ! and the grace of heaven, 
 BeJbre, behind thee, and on every hand, 
 Enwiieel thee round ! 
 
 Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio. 
 
 What tidings can you tell me of my lord ! 
 
 Cus. He is not yet arrived; nor know I aught 
 But that he's well, and will be shortly here. 
 J)cs. O, but I fear; — How lOst you company? 
 Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies 
 Parted our fellowship: But, hark ! a sail! 
 
 [dy wit/iin, A sail, a sail ! Ttien Gims heard. 
 2 Gent. They give their greeting to liie citadel; 
 This likewise is a friend. 
 CV/5. See for the news.— ■ 
 
 [Exit Gentleman. 
 Good ancient, you are welcome; — Welcome, mis- 
 tress;— [To Emiua. 
 * Deadly, destructive. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 THE MOOR OF YEXICE. 
 
 757 
 
 Let it not gall your patience, {?ood la^o, 
 That I extend my mannors; Mis my breeding 
 That gives me this bold show of courtesy. 
 
 [Kisswg her, 
 
 Tago. Sir, would she {jivp you so muchof her lips, 
 As of her tongue she ott bestows on me, 
 You'd have enough. 
 
 Des. Alas, she has no speech. 
 
 lagn. In faith, too much, 
 I find it slill, when I have list'' to sleep: 
 Marry, before your ladyship. I Rrant, 
 She puts her tongue a little in lier heart, 
 And chides with thinking. 
 
 ErnU. Vou have little cause to say so. 
 
 la^o- Come on, come on; you are pictures out 
 of doors. 
 Bells in your parlors, wild cats in your kitchens, 
 Saints in your injuries, devils being oilended. 
 players in your housewifery, and housewives in 
 your beds. 
 
 Dcs. O, fye on thee, slanderer ! 
 
 lago- Nay. it is true, or else I am a Turk; 
 You rise to play, and go to bed to work. 
 
 Emit. You shall not write my praise. 
 
 lago. No, let me not. 
 
 Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if thou 
 shouldst praise me? 
 
 Jagn. O, gentle lady, do not put me to't; 
 For I am nothing, if "not critical. 
 
 Des. Come on, assay: — There's one gone to the 
 harbor] 
 
 lago. Ay, madam. 
 
 Ves. I am not merry: but I do beguile 
 The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. — 
 Come, Ijow wouJcist thou praise me "l 
 
 logo. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention 
 Comes from my pate, as birdlime docs from frize; 
 It plucks out brains and nil: But my muse labors, 
 And thus she is deliver^!. 
 If she be fair and wise.— fairness, and wit, 
 The one's for use, the other useth it. 
 
 Dcs. Well prais'd! How if she be black and 
 witty ! 
 
 lago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit. 
 She'll find a whfto that siiall iier blackness lit. 
 
 Bes. Worse and worse. 
 
 Eniil. How, if fair and foolish'! 
 
 Icgn. She never yet was Ibolish that was fair; 
 For e^'cn her folly help'd her to an heir. 
 
 !)€!>. These are old fbud'^ paradoxes, to make 
 fo*ls laugh i' the alehouse. What miserable praise 
 hast thou for her that\s Ibul and foolish ? 
 
 lago. Therc'^s none so tbul and Ibolish thereunto, 
 But does loul pranks which fair and wise ones do. 
 
 Des. O heavy ignorance! — thou praisest the 
 worst best. But what jiraise couldst thou bestow 
 on a des^erving woman indeed? one that, in the 
 authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch 
 of very malice itself? 
 
 lago. She that was ever fair, and never proud; 
 Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud ; 
 Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay ; 
 Fled from her wish, and yet said, — 7iuw I may ; 
 She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh. 
 Bade Iier wrong stay, and lirr displeasure fly ; 
 She, that in wisdom never was so frail. 
 To cliange the cod's head for the salmon's tail; 
 She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind, 
 Sec suitors liillowing, and not look behind ; 
 She was a wight, — if ever such wight were.— 
 
 Des. To do what ? 
 
 logo. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer. 
 
 Bes. t) most lame and impotent conclusion! — 
 Do not learn of him, Kmilia. though lie be thy 
 husband. — How say you, Cassio ? is he not a most 
 profane and liberal counsellor? 
 
 Cos. He speaks home, madam; you may relish 
 him more in the soldier, than in the scholar. 
 
 Jugo. {Afiile.] He takes her by the palm: Ay. 
 well said, whisper: with as Jitllea web as this will 
 I ensnare as great a llyas Cassio. Ay, smile upon 
 her, do. I will gyve" thee in thine own courtship. 
 You say true; 'iis so, indeed: if such tricks as 
 these strip you out of your lieu tenantry, it had been 
 belter you had not kissed your three fingers so oO, 
 which "now again you are most apt to play the sir 
 in.s Very good; well kissed I an excellent cour- 
 tesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again, your fingers to 
 
 • Tesh-p. • Foolish. ' Shackle, fetter. 
 
 • Your gocd-bree<ling and gallantry. 
 
 your lips? would they were clyster-pipes, for your 
 sake. [Tninq}ttS\ 'Tlie Moor, I know his trum- 
 pet. 
 
 C(75. 'Tis truly so. 
 
 Df:s. Let's meet Iiim, and receive him. 
 
 Vus. Lo, wiicrc lie comes! 
 
 Enter Othello and Attendants. 
 
 Ofh. my fair warrior! 
 
 Des. My dear Othello ! 
 
 0th. It gives me wonder great as my conient, 
 To see you here before me. O my soul's joy \ 
 if atler every tempest come such calms. 
 May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! 
 And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas, 
 Olympus-fiigh ; and duck again as low 
 A« hell's iVom heaven ! If it were now lo die, 
 'Twcre now to be most happy; for, I fear, 
 My soul batli her content so absolute, 
 That not another comtbrt like to this 
 Succeeds in unknown fate. 
 
 Des. The heavens forbid, 
 
 Rut that our loves and comforts should increase, 
 Even as our days do grow ! 
 
 0/A. Ameu to that, sweet powers! — 
 
 I cannot speak enough of this content;. 
 U stojis me here; it is too much of Joy: 
 And this, and (his, the greatest discords be, 
 
 {Kissing her. 
 That e'er our hearts shall make ! 
 
 lagn. {), you are well tuned now ! 
 
 But I'll set down the pegs that make this music. 
 As honest as I am. {An-ic^ 
 
 0(h. Come, let's to the castle. — 
 
 News, iViends; our wars arc done, Uie Turks are 
 
 drown'd. 
 How do our old acquaintance of this isle? — 
 lloney, you shall be well desir'd" in Cyprus; 
 1 have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, 
 I prattle out of fashion, and I dote 
 In mine own comforts. — I pr'ythee, good lago, 
 Co to the bay, and disembark my coders: 
 Bring thou the master to the citadel; 
 He is a good one, and his worthiness 
 Does challenge much respect. — Come, Desdcmona, 
 Once more, well met at Cyprus. 
 
 [Exeinif OniKLLO, Desdemona, and 
 Atlenilants. 
 
 lagn. Do thou meet nu' presently at the harbor. 
 Come hither. If thou br'st valiant as (tlu-y say) 
 Itase men, beiuir iu love, have then a iiohiiity ui 
 their natures more than is native to them, — list 
 mc.i The lieutenant lo-night watches on the court 
 of guard :— First. I must tell Ihee this — Desdc- 
 mona is directly in hue with him. 
 
 Rni{. With him! why, 'lis not possible, 
 
 lago. Lay thy finger — thus, and let thy sou! be 
 instructed. Mark me with wliat violence she first 
 loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her 
 lantastical lies: And will she love him still for 
 prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her 
 eye must be fed ; and what deli;^ht shall she have 
 to look on the devil! When the blood is made 
 dull witli the act of sport, there should be,— a^iain 
 to inflame it, and to give satiety a fresh nitpetile. — 
 lo\eliness in la\'or; s>uiiiathy in years. inaniUTs, 
 and beauties; nil which the Aloor is defective in: 
 Now, tor want of tliesc required conveniences, her 
 delicate tenderness will find itself abu^t*d, begin to 
 heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very 
 nature will instruct lier in it, and compel her to 
 some second choice. Now, sir, tliis tjranted. (as it 
 is a nmst pregnant and unlbreed pofifion,) who 
 stands so eminently in the degree of this Ibrlune, 
 as Cassio does? a Knave very voluble; no further 
 conscionable, than in putting on tiie mere fi)rm of 
 civil and humane seeming,lbr the better compass- 
 ing of his salt and more bidden loose anectii>n? 
 why, none; why, none: A slippery and subtle 
 knave; a finder out of occasions; that has an «ye 
 can stami>and counterfeit advantages. 1 hough true 
 advantage never present itself:, A devilish knave! 
 besides, the knave is handsome, y(uing, and halii 
 all those reipiisites in him, tliat lolly and green 
 minds look alter: Apcstilcnt complcleknave ; and 
 the woman hath found him already. 
 
 Rod. I cannot believe that in her; she 15 full of 
 most blessed condition.^ 
 
 s 5Iuih sf>liritt'd by invit.sfion. ' U^lcn to me. 
 
 a Qualitie.*, disposition of the mind. 
 
758 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IL 
 
 lago. Blessed fig's end I the wine she drinks is 
 made of grapes: it' she had been blessed, she would 
 never liave loved the I\Ioor: Blessed pudding! 
 Didst thou not see her paddle with the palni of his 
 hand? didst not mark that? 
 
 JRud. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy. 
 
 logu. Lechery, by this hand; an index and ob- 
 scure prolog:ue to the history of lust and foul 
 thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that 
 Iheirbreathsemhraccdtof^cl her. Villanoust hough ts, 
 Koderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the 
 way, hard at hand comes the master and main ex- 
 ercise, the incorporate conclusion: — Pish! — But, 
 sir, be you ruled by me : I have brought you from 
 Venice. Watch you to-night; for tJic command, 
 I'll lay't upon you: Cassio knows you not; — 1*11 
 not be far from you: Do you find some occasion 
 to anger Cassio, either by speaJving too loud, or 
 tainting his discipline; or from what other course 
 you please, which the time shall more favorably 
 minister. 
 
 Rod, Well. 
 
 lago. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden in cholcr; 
 and, hajjly, with his truncheon may strike at you: 
 Provoke him, that he may; for, even out of that 
 will I cause thescof Cyprus to mutiny ; whose qua- 
 lifi ration shall come into no true taste again, but 
 by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a 
 shorter journey to your desires, by the means I 
 shall then have to prefer them ; and the impediment 
 must profitably removed, without the which tJiere 
 were no expectation of our prosperity. 
 
 Rfid. I will do this, if I can bring it to any op- 
 portunity. 
 
 lugo. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at 
 the citadel: I must letch his necessaries ashore. 
 Farewell. 
 
 7?o'/. Adieu. [Exit, 
 
 lugo. That Cassio loves her, T do well believe it; 
 That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit: 
 The Moor — howbeit that 1 endure him not — 
 Is of a constant, loving, noble nature; 
 And, I dare tliink, he'll prove to Desdemona 
 A most dear husband. Now I do love her too; 
 Not out of absolute lust, (though peradventure, 
 I stand accountant for as great a sin,) 
 But partly led to diet my revenge, 
 For that 1 do suspect tlie lusty Moor 
 Hatli leap'd into my seat: the thought whereof 
 Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; 
 ATid nothing can or shall content my soul, 
 Till I am even with him, wife for wife; 
 Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor 
 At least into a jealousy so strong 
 That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,— 
 If this poor trash^ of Venice, whom I Irasli^ 
 For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 
 ni have our Michael Cassio on tlie hip; 
 Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb,^ — 
 For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too; 
 Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me, 
 For making him egregiously an ass. 
 And practising upon his peace and quiet 
 Kven to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confus'd ; 
 Knavery's plain face is never seen, till used. [£xU. 
 
 SCKNKU.— A Sf reef. 
 
 Enter a Herald, tcifh a Proclafttatian, People 
 
 fotloiclug. 
 
 tier. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and 
 valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now ar- 
 rived, importing the mero^ perdition of the Turkish 
 fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some 
 to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what 
 sport and revels his addiction leads him; for, be- 
 sides these beneficial news, it islhe celebration of his 
 nuptials: So much was his pleasure should be pro- 
 claimed. All oHices^ are open; and there is full 
 liberty of ieasting, from this present hour of five, 
 till the bell hatli told eleven. Heaven bless the isle 
 olCyprus, and our noble general, Othello. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE HI.— /I Hall in tlie Castle. 
 Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and 
 Attendants. 
 Ofh. Good Michael, look you to the guard to- 
 night : 
 •■> "Worthless hound. 
 
 • Tho tuj-m for a clog put on a hound, to binder hU 
 runTiiii^r. » In the grossi^st manner. 
 
 * Jiutire. 1 Hooms, or places in the castle. 
 
 Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop. 
 Not to out-sport discretion. 
 
 Cits. lat;o hath direction what to do; 
 But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye 
 WiU I look to^t. 
 
 Ot/t. lago is most honest. 
 
 Michael, good-night: To-morrow, with ourearliest, 
 Let me have speech with you, — Come, my dear love, 
 The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue ; 
 
 [To I)K«DEMON'A. 
 
 That profit's yet to come Hwixt me and you. — 
 Good-night. '[Exeunt Otu., Des., and Attendants. 
 Enter Iago. 
 
 Cas. Welcome, lago: We must to the watch. 
 
 Iiigo. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten 
 oVlock: Our general cast"* us Uius early, for tlie 
 love of his Desdemona; whom let us not theretbre 
 blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night 
 with her: and she is sport for Jove. 
 
 Cas. She's a most exquisite lady. 
 
 Jago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game. 
 
 Cas. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate 
 creature. 
 
 lago. What an eye she has! methinks it sounds 
 a parley of provocation. 
 
 Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right 
 modest. 
 
 lago. And, when she speaks, is it not an alarm 
 to love ] 
 
 Cas. She is, indeed, perfection. 
 
 lago. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, 
 lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here with- 
 out are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain 
 have a measure to the iieallh of the black Othello. 
 
 Cas. Not to-night, good lago; I have very poor 
 and unhappy brains lor drinking: I could well wish 
 courtesy would invent some other custom of enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 lago. O, they are our friends; but one cup; I'll 
 drink tor you. 
 
 Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-niicht, and that 
 was craftily qualified^ too, and, behold, what imio- 
 vation it makes here: I am unlbrtunate in the in- 
 firmity, and dare not task my weakness with any 
 more, 
 
 lago. What, man! 'tis a night of revels; the 
 gallants desire it. 
 
 Cas. Where are they 7 
 
 lago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. 
 
 Cas. ni do't; but it dislikes me. [Exit Cassio. 
 
 logo. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, 
 Willi that which he hath drunk to-night already. 
 He'll be as full of quarrel and ofieuce 
 As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool, 
 
 Jloderigo, 
 Whom love has turn'd almost the wrong side out- 
 ward. 
 To Desdemona hath to-night carousM 
 Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch : 
 Three lads of Cyprus, — noble swelling spirits, 
 .That hold their honors in a wary di.stance, 
 The very elements of this warlike isle, — 
 Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups, 
 And they watch too. Now, *mongst this flock of 
 
 drunkards. 
 Am I to put our Cassio in some action 
 That may oflond the isle:— But here they come: 
 If consequence do but approve my dream. 
 My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. 
 lie-enter Cassio. ivith him Mo\tano, and 
 Gentlemen. 
 
 Cas. Tore heaven, they have given me a rouse' 
 already. 
 
 Mon. Good faith, a little one; not p^ist a pint, 
 as I am a soldier. 
 
 lago. Some wine, ho ! 
 
 And let me the canakin clink, clink; [Sings. 
 And let nte the canakin clink: 
 A soldier''s a jnan ; 
 A life''s Out a spafi ; 
 Why the7ij let a soldier drink. 
 
 Some wine, boys ! [ IVitie hrtmght in- 
 
 Cas. 'Fore heaven, an excellent song. 
 
 lago. I learned it in England, where (indeed) 
 they are most potent in putting; your Dane, your 
 German, and your swag-luUn d IfoUander, — Drink, 
 ho! — are nothing to your Kngli^sh. 
 
 e Pismissed. s Slyly mixed witli water. 
 
 '■ A little more than enough. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 59 
 
 Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in liis diinli- 
 ing ! 
 
 Iiigo. Wliv, lie drinks you, with (bcihty, your 
 Dane dead drunl<; he sweats not to overthrow your 
 Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the 
 next pottle can be (JUcd. 
 
 Ca.s. To the health of our general. 
 
 Miin. I ara lor it, lieutenant; and I'll do you 
 justire." 
 
 Jaga. sweet England ! 
 
 King Stephen was a worthy peer? 
 
 His breeches cnsl him but a crown; 
 He held them sixpence alt too dear, 
 
 With that he caWd tlie tailor— town.* 
 He leas a wight of high renown, 
 
 Attd thou art but of Inw degree: 
 'Tis pride tluit putts the country down, 
 Then take tlUne auld ctoali about thee. 
 Some wine, ho ! 
 
 Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the 
 other. 
 
 logo. Will you hear it again i 
 
 Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his 
 place, that does those things.— Well.— Heaven's 
 above all ; and there be souls that must be saved, 
 and there be souls must not be .saved. 
 
 lago. It's true, good lieutenant. 
 
 Cas. For mine own part, — no offence to the gene- 
 ral, or any man of quality, — I hope to be saved. 
 
 lago. And so do I too, lieutenant. 
 
 Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the 
 lieutenant is to he saved before the ancient. Let's 
 have no more of this; let's to our aflairs. — Forgive 
 us our sins! — Gentlemen, let's look to our busi- 
 ness. Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk; this 
 is my ancient;— Ihis is my right hand, and this is 
 my left hand:— I am not drunk now; I can stand 
 well enough, and speak well enough. 
 
 All. Excellent well. 
 
 Cas. Wliv. very well, then: you must not think 
 then that lam drunk. [Exit. 
 
 Mon. To the platform, masters; come, let's set 
 the watch. 
 
 lago. You see this fellow that is gone before ; — 
 He is a soldier, fit to stand by Ctesar 
 And give direction ; and do but see his vice ; 
 'Tis to his virtue a. just equinox. 
 The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. 
 I tear, the trust Othello puis him in, 
 On some odd time of his infirmity 
 Will shake this island. 
 
 Mun. But is he often thus 1 
 
 logo. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: 
 He'll watch the horologe a double set,» 
 If drink rock not his cradle. 
 
 Mon. It were well 
 
 The general were put in mind of it. 
 Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature 
 Prizes the virtue that appears ni Cassio, 
 And looks not on his evils : Is not this true 1 
 EiUer RoDERiGO. 
 
 lago. How now, Roderigo ? [Aside. 
 
 I pray you, alter the Ueutcnant ; go. 
 
 [Exit RonERiGO. 
 
 Mon. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Jloor 
 .Should hazard such a place, as his own second. 
 With one of an ingralV infirmity : 
 It were an honest action, to say 
 So to the Moor. 
 
 lago. Not I, for Ihis fair island : 
 
 I do love Cassio well; and would do much 
 To cure him of this evil. Hut hark! what noise? 
 [Cry wilhin^-lieX^)'. help! 
 Re-enter Cabsio, driving in Roderigo. 
 
 Cas. You rogue ! you rascal ! 
 
 MoJi. " What's the matter, lieutenant 1 
 
 Cas. .K kTiave ! — teach me my duty ? 
 I'll beat the knave into a twiggeu' bottle. 
 
 Rod. Beat me ! 
 
 Cos. Dost thou prate, rogue 1 
 
 [Striking RoDEniGO. 
 
 Mon. Nay, good lieutenant; [Stayi?ig him. 
 
 I pray you, sir, hold your hand. 
 
 Cas. Let me go, sir. 
 
 Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. 
 
 Mon. Come, come, you're drunk. 
 
 a Prhik as much as you do. 3 .\ worthy fellow. * Clown. 
 
 8 \Vhile the clock strikes two rounds, or four-and-t wen ty 
 hours, e Hooted, settled. ■> A wicker'd bottle. 
 
 Cos. Drunk! • [They fight. 
 
 lago. Away, I say! go out, and cry — a mutiny. 
 [Aaide to Rod., who goes out. 
 Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gcniletnen, — 
 Help, ho ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montaiio, — sir, — 
 Help, masters ! — Here's a goodly walch. indeed ! 
 
 [Bell rings. 
 Who's that that rings the bell?— Diablo, ho ! 
 The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant ! hold; 
 You will be shamed lor ever. 
 
 Enter Othello and Attendants. 
 ' Ofh. What is the matter here ? 
 
 Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death ; — he 
 dies. 
 
 0th. Hold, for your lives. 
 
 lago. Hold, bold, lieutenant, sir, Montano, — 
 gentlemen, — 
 Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? 
 Hold, hold ! the general speaks to you ; hold, for 
 shame ! 
 
 Otk. Why. how now, ho ! from whence ariseth 
 this? 
 .\re we turn'd Turks; and to Ourselves do that. 
 Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? 
 For Christian shame. put by this barbarous brawl: 
 He that stirs next to carve for his own rage. 
 Holds bis soul light; he dies upon his molion.— 
 .Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle 
 From her propriety. — What is the matter, masters ? 
 Honest lago, that look'st dead with grieving. 
 Speak, who began this ? on thy love, I charge Ihee. 
 
 lago. I do not know; — friends all but now, 
 even now. 
 In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom 
 Divesting them for bed: and then, but now, 
 (As if some planet had unwilted men.) 
 Swords out, and tihiug one at other's breast. 
 In opposition bloody. 1 cannot speak 
 Any beginmng to this peevish odds; 
 ,\nd 'would in action glorious I had lost 
 These legs, that brought me to a part of it ! 
 
 0th. How comes it, Michael, you arc Ihus forgot? 
 
 Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speak. 
 
 0th. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; 
 The gravity and stillness of your j-outh 
 The world hath noted, and your name is great 
 In mouths of wisest censure; What's the matter. 
 That \ou unlace your reputation thus. 
 And s'pend your rich opinion, for the name 
 Of a Tiight brawler? give me answer to it. 
 
 Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger ; 
 Your officer, lago, can inform you — 
 While I spare speech, which something now offends 
 
 me — 
 Of all that I do know: nor know I aught 
 By me that's said or done amiss this night; 
 i;"nless self-charity be sometime a vice; 
 .\nd to defend ourselves it be a sin, 
 Wlien violence assails us. 
 
 0th. Now, by heaven, 
 
 My blood begins my safer guides to rule ; 
 And passion, having my best judgment coIUed,' 
 Ass.ays to lead the way : If once I stir. 
 Or do hut lift this arm', the best of you 
 Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know 
 How this foul rout began, who set it on ; 
 And he that is approy'd' in this oflence. 
 Though he had twinii'd with me, both at a birth, 
 Shall lose me. — What ! in a town of war. 
 Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, 
 To manage private and domestic quarrel. 
 In night, and on the court and guard of safety! 
 'Tis monstrous.— lago. who began it ? 
 
 Mon. If partially afhn'd.i or leagued in office 
 Thou dost deliver more or less than truth. 
 Thou art no soldier. 
 
 lago. Touch me not so near: 
 
 I bad rather have this tongue cut from my mouth. 
 Than it should do ollc'nce to Michael Cassio ; 
 Yet. I iiersuade myself, to speak the truth 
 Shall nothing wrong him. — Thus it is, general. 
 Montiino and myself being in speech. 
 There comes a lellow, crying out for help ; 
 And Cassio follo\^^ng him with determin'd sword. 
 To execute upon him : Sir, this gentleman 
 Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause ; 
 Myself the crying fellow did pursue. 
 Lest, by his clamor, (as it so fell out.) 
 
 e Darliened. ■ Convicted by proc£ 
 
 1 llelated by nearnegs of office. 
 
760 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IL Scene IIL 
 
 The town might, fall in fri^iht: he, swift of foot, 
 Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather 
 For that 1 heard the clink and tail of swords, 
 And Cassio high in oath ; which, till to-ni^ht, 
 1 neVr might say before : when 1 came back, 
 (For tiiis was brief,) I found them close toijelher, 
 At blow, and thrust; even as ai;ain they were, 
 When you yourself did part them. 
 More of this matter can I not report : — 
 But men are men ; tlie best sunii^times forg:et: — 
 Thoujrh Cassio did some little wrcn-j: to liim, — 
 As men in rage strike those Hiat wish tiicm bcst,^ 
 Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, rcceivM, 
 From him that tied, some strange indignitj', 
 Which patience could not pass. 
 
 Oik. I know, lago 
 
 Thy honesty and love dotJi mince this matter. 
 Making it light to Cassio :— Cassio, 1 love thee: 
 But never more be othcer of mine. — 
 
 Ktiier Desdemona, nifcmJed. 
 Look, if my gentle love be not rais'd up;— 
 ni make thee an example. 
 
 /)e.v. What''s the matter, dear? 
 
 0th, AlFs well now, sweeting ; Come away to bed. 
 Sir, for your hurts, 
 Myself will be your surgeon : Lead him ofT. 
 
 [To MoNTANo, who vs led off. 
 lago, look with care ahout the town ; 
 Aiid silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. — 
 Come. Desdemona ; His the soldiers' life. 
 To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. 
 [Exeunt all but L\go and Cassio. 
 
 Ingo. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ! 
 
 Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 
 
 Jngo. Marry, heaven forbid! 
 
 Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation ! 0, I 
 have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal 
 part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial. — 
 My reputation, lago, my reputation. 
 
 logo. As I am an honest man, I thought you had 
 received some bodily wound; there is more oflenee 
 in that, than in reputation. Reputation is an idle 
 and most false imposition ; oft got without merit, 
 and lost without deserving: You have lost no repu- 
 tation atali, unless you repute yourself such a loser. 
 What, man ! there are ways to recover the general 
 again: You arc but now east in his mood,^ a 
 punishment more in policy than in malice; even 
 so as one would beat his ortenceless dog, to aflViglit 
 an imperious lion : sue to him again, and hc^'s yours. 
 
 Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than to 
 deceive so good a commander, willi so slight, so 
 drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Druiikl and 
 speakitarrot !3ands(^uabble ; swagger? swear? and 
 discourse fustian with oner's own shadow? — O thou 
 invisible spirit of w'ine, if thou hast no name to be 
 known by, let us call tliee — devil ! 
 
 lago. What was he that you followed with your 
 sword ! What had he done to you? 
 
 Vas. I kiiow not. 
 
 Iifgo. Is it possible ? 
 
 Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing 
 distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherclbre. — (), 
 that men should put an eneuiy in their mouths, to 
 steal away their brains! that wo should, with joy, 
 revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves 
 into beasts! 
 
 logo. Why, but you are now well enough: How 
 came you thus recovered .' 
 
 Cas. It hath pleased the devil, drunkenness, to 
 give place to the devil, wrath : one unperfectness 
 shows me another, to make me frankly despise my- 
 self. 
 
 logo. Come, you are too severe a moralcr: As 
 thn tune, tiie i)laee, and the condilion of this coun- 
 try stands, 1 could heartily wisli tliis had not bc- 
 liiUen; but since it is as it is, mend it for your own 
 good. 
 
 Can. I will ask him for my place again; he shall 
 tell me, I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths 
 as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To 
 be now a sensible man, by-and-by a fool, and pre- 
 sently a beast! O strange !— Kvery inordinate cup 
 is unolessed, and the ingredient is a devil. 
 
 lago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar 
 creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more 
 3 Dismissed in hJs .nugor. a Tulk idly. 
 
 against it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you think 
 I love you. 
 
 Cas. I have well approved it, sir.— I drunk? 
 
 lago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at 
 some time, man. "Fll tell you what you shall do. 
 Our gencraPs wife is now the general : — I may say 
 so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and 
 given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and 
 denotement of her parts and graces: — confess 
 yourself freely to her; importune her; she'll help 
 to put you in your place again : she is of so free, 
 so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that she 
 holds it a vice in her goodness, not to do more 
 than she is requested: This broken joint, between 
 you and her husband, entreat her to splinter; and, 
 my fortunes against any lay^ worth naming, this 
 crack of your love shall grow stronger tlian it was 
 before. 
 
 Cas. You advise me well. 
 
 lago. I protest in the sincerity of love, and honest 
 kindness. 
 
 Cas. I think it freely; and. betimes in the morn- 
 ing. I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to un- 
 dertake for me: 1 am desperate of my fortunes, if 
 they check me here. 
 
 lago. You are in the right. Good-night, lieu- 
 tenant; I m\ist to the watch. 
 
 Cas. Good-night, honest lago. [Exit Cassio. 
 
 lago. And what's he then, that says, — 1 play the 
 villain ; 
 When this advice is free, I give, and honest, 
 Probai to thinking, and (indeed) the course 
 To win tbe Moor again ! For, tis most easy 
 Tile inclining Desdemona to subdue 
 In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful^ 
 As the free elements. And then lor her 
 To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism, 
 All seals and symbolsof redeemed sin, — 
 His .soul is so enfctter'd to her love, 
 That she may make, unmake, do what she list, 
 Kven as her appetite shall play the god 
 With his weak function. How am I then a villain, 
 To counsel Cassio to this parallel'> course. 
 Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell ! 
 Wiicn devils with their blackest sins put on. 
 They do suggest at tirst with heavenly shows, 
 As 1 do now: For while this honest fool 
 Plies Desdemona to repair iiis tbrtunes, 
 And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, 
 I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, — 
 That she repeals' him for her love of him ; 
 And. by liovv much slie strives to do him good, 
 She shai'l undo her credit with the Moor. 
 So will I turn her virtue into pilch; 
 And out ol her own goodness make the net 
 That shall enmesh them all. — How now, Roderigo T 
 JCnler Roderigo. 
 
 Hod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a 
 hound that hunts, but one that tills up the cry. My 
 money is almost spent; I have been to-night ex- 
 ceedingly well cudgelled; an J, 1 think, the issue 
 will be — I shall have so much experience for my 
 pains: and so, with no money at all, and a little 
 more wit, return to Venice. 
 
 lago. How poor are they, that have not pa- 
 tience! — 
 What wound did ever heal, hut by degrees 
 Thouknow'st we work by wit, and not bywitchcrafl; 
 And wit depends on dilatory time. 
 Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee. 
 And tbou,by that small hurt, hath cashier'd Cassio 
 Though other things grow liiir against the sun, 
 Yet fruits that blossom lirst, will tirst be ripe: 
 Content thyself a while.— By the mass, 'tis morning, 
 Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short. — 
 Retire thee; go where lliou art billeted: 
 Away, I say; thou shall know nioreliereafler: 
 ^■ay, get thee gone. [iU'i/ Rod.] Two tilings aie 
 
 to be done, — 
 My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; 
 ril set heron; 
 
 Myself, the while, to draw the Moor apart, 
 And bring him jumpf' when he may Cassio find 
 Soliciting his wife: — Ay, that's the way ; 
 Dull not de\icc by coldness and delay. [ExeuiiU 
 
 * Jttt or wager. > l.ihoinl. bountiful. • Even. 
 
 1 Kecails. ■ Just at tho time. 
 
Act III. fcENE III. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 761 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I,— Before ike Castle. * 
 Enter CvVSSio (Oidsonie Musicians. 
 
 Cas. Masters, play here, I will content your pains, 
 Something tliat's brief; and bid— good-morrow, 
 general. [Music. 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been 
 at N;ii)Ies, tliaL they speak P the nose thus .' 
 
 1 Mas. How, sir, how? 
 
 Clo. Are tliose, 1 pray you, called wind instru- 
 ments ! 
 
 1 Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir. 
 
 Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail. 
 
 1 Mus. Wherehv iiangs a tale, sir ? 
 
 Cl'i, Marry, sir, by many a wind Instrument that 
 I know. But, masters, here^s money lor you ; and 
 the generalsolikesyour music, that he desires you, 
 ol' all loves, to make no more noise with it. 
 
 1 Mus. Well, sir, we will not. 
 
 Clo. It" you liave any music that may not be 
 heard, to't' again: but, as they say, to hear music, 
 the general does not greatly care. 
 
 1 Mus. We have none such, sir. 
 
 Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll 
 away: Go; vanisli into air; away. 
 
 [Exeunt Musicians. 
 
 C(is. Dost thou hear, my honest friend \ 
 
 Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend ; i hear you. 
 
 Cas. Pr'ythee, keep up thy quillets.^ TIierc''s a 
 poor piece of gold lor thee: if the gentlewoman 
 tliat attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her 
 there's one Cassio entreats her a little liivor of 
 speech: Wilt thou do this! 
 
 Clo. She is stirring, sir; If she will stir hither, I 
 shall seem to notify unto her. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Iago. 
 
 Ca.f. Do, good my friend. — In hnppy time, Iago. 
 
 hf^o. You have not been a-bed tlicn ! 
 
 Ca.s. Why, no; the day had broke 
 Before we partetl. I have made bold. Iago, 
 To send in to your wife : My suit to her 
 Is, that slie will to virtuous Desdemona 
 procure me some access. 
 
 Ja^o. VU send her to you presently; 
 
 And I'll devise a mean to draw the Ahior 
 Out of the way, that your converse and business 
 May be more irue. [Exit. 
 
 CV/.s. I humbly thank you forH. I never knew 
 A Florentine more kind and honest. 
 
 Enter Emilia. 
 Emil. Good-morrow, good lieutenant: I am 
 sorry 
 For j'our displeasure; but all will soon bo well. 
 The general and his wile are talking of it ; 
 AtuI she speaks for you stoutly : Tlie Moorreplics, 
 That lie, you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus, 
 And great adinity; and that, in wholesome wis- 
 dom. 
 He might not but refuse you : but, he protests, he 
 
 loves you ; 
 And needs no other suitor, but his likings, 
 To take the sal'st occasion by the front, 
 To bring you in again. 
 
 Co-f. Yet, I beseccli you, — 
 
 If you think fit, or that it. may be done, 
 Give me advantage of some brief discourse 
 With Desdemona alone. 
 
 Emil. Pray you, come in ; 
 
 I will liestow you, where you" shall have time 
 To speak your bosom freely. 
 Cas, 1 am much bound to you. 
 
 [Kxcu7d. 
 
 SCENE II —A Room in the Castle. 
 Ejiter Othello, Iago, a?id Gentlemen. 
 Ofh. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot ; 
 And. l)y him, do my duties to the state : 
 Tliat done, I will he walking on the works ; 
 Repair there to ine. 
 Iago. Well, my good lord, I'll do't. 
 
 • Nice distiDctions. 
 
 [ 0/A. This fortification, gentlemen, — shall we 
 I sec't '! 
 
 Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeuni» 
 
 SCENE Ul.— Before the Castle. 
 Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia. 
 
 Des. Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do 
 All my ahililics ni tliy behalf. 
 
 Emil. Good madam, do; 1 know it grieves my 
 husband 
 As if the case were liis. 
 
 Des. O, that's an honest fellow. — Do not doubt, 
 Cassio, 
 But 1 will have my lord and you again 
 As friendly as you were. 
 
 Cas. Bounteous madam, 
 
 Whatever shall become of Micliael Cassio, 
 He's never any thing but your true servant. 
 
 Des. O. sir, I thank you: You do love my lord: 
 You have known him long; and, be you well 
 
 assur'd, 
 He shall in strangeness stand no further oil" 
 Than in a jwJitic distance. 
 
 (V/.v. Ay, but, lady, 
 
 Tiiat policy may either last so hmg, 
 Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet. 
 Or l)reed itselfso out of circumstaiiri', 
 Ttiat. 1 being absent, and niy place supplied, 
 My general will forget my love and service. 
 
 Dts. Do nol (li)iiltt lli;tl ; before Emilia here, 
 I give thee warrant of thy ]ilace ; assure thee, 
 If I do vow a friendslii|>, Vll pertbrm it 
 To the last article: my lord shall never rest ; 
 I'll watch him tame,' and talkhim outof patience; 
 His bed shall seem a schooj. his board a shnU ; 
 1*11 intermingle every thing he does 
 Wilh Cassio*s suit: Therelbre be merry, Cassio; 
 For thy solicitor sIkiII rather die, 
 Tliaugivc thy cause away. 
 
 Elder Otukllo and Iaco, at a distance. 
 
 Emil. Madam, here comes 
 
 My lord. 
 
 Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave. 
 
 Dts. Wliy, stay. 
 
 And hear me speak. 
 
 Ca.s: Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease, 
 Until for mine own purposes. 
 
 Ut'.v. Well, well. 
 
 Do your discretion. [Exit Cassio. 
 
 la^o. Ha ! 1 like not that. 
 
 Olh. What dost thou say I 
 
 loi^o. Notlnng, my lord : or if— I know not what. 
 
 Olh. Was not that Cassio, parted frommy wilcT 
 
 ///A'-f>. Cassio, my lord ! No, sure, I cannot thmkit, 
 That ho would steal away so guilty-like, 
 Seeing you coining. 
 
 Otli. I do believe *twas he. 
 
 DfS. How now, my lord ! 
 I have been talking with a suitor here, 
 A man that languishes in your displeasure. 
 
 Olh. Who is't. yi)ii mean \ 
 
 Dts. WJiy, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my 
 lord, 
 If I lia\e any grace, or power to move you, 
 His present rec(tnciliaIion take : 
 For, if he be not one that truly loves you. 
 That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning, 
 I have no judgment in an honest lace: 
 I pr'ythee, cull Jnm back. 
 
 Olh. Went he hence nowl 
 
 Dts, Ay, soolh; so humbled. 
 That he halh left part ol his grief wilh me* 
 I sutler with him. Good love, call liim hacK. 
 
 Olh. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other 
 time. 
 
 Drs. But shan't be shortly? 
 
 0th. The sooner, sweet, for you. 
 
 Drs. Shall't be to-night at supper .' 
 
 0th. No, not to-night. 
 
 Dc:u To-morrow dinner tlien ? 
 
 0th. I shall not dine at home; 
 
 I meet the captains at the citadel. 
 
 * Hawks are tamod by kecpiug them fronx sleep. 
 
762 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act in. 
 
 Des> Why theil, to-morrow night; or Tuesday 
 morn ; 
 Or Tuesday noon, or ni^ht; or Wednesday morn;— 
 I pray tliee. name the lime; but let it not 
 Kxcecd three days: in faith he's penitent; 
 And yet iiis trespass, in our common reason, 
 (Save that, they say, the wars must make ex- 
 amples 
 Out of their best,2) is not almost a fault 
 To incur a private check : When shall he come 1 
 Tel! inc, Othello. I wonder in my soul, 
 Wluit you could ask me, that I should den^% 
 Or stand so mammeringS on. What! Michael 
 
 Cassio. 
 That came a-wooing; with you; and many a time, 
 When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, 
 Hath taVn your part; to have so much to do 
 To liring liim in f Trust me, I could do much — 
 
 0(h. Pr'ythee, no more: let him come when he 
 will; 
 I will deny thee nothing. 
 
 Des. Why, this is not a boon ; 
 
 'Tis as T should entreat you wear your t^loves, 
 Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, 
 Or sue to you to do peculiar protit 
 To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit, 
 Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, 
 It f^iiail be full of poise^ and difficulty, 
 And loarful to be granted. 
 
 Oik. I will deny thee nothing : 
 
 Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, 
 To leave me but a little to myself. 
 
 Defi. Sbali I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord. 
 
 0/A. Farewell, my Desderaona: I will come to 
 thee straight. 
 
 Des. Emilia, come: — Be it as your fancies teach 
 you ; 
 Whate'er you be, I am obedient. 
 
 [Exit, yuth Kmiua. 
 
 Ofh. Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, 
 But I do love thee ! and vv-hen I love thee not, 
 Chaos is come again. 
 
 lugo. My noble lord, 
 
 Ofh. What dost thou say, lago 1 
 
 logo. Did ^Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my 
 lady. 
 Know of your love 1 
 
 Ollu He did, li-om first to last: Why dost thou 
 ask ] 
 
 7r/iro. But for a satisfaction of my thought ; 
 No furtlier harm. 
 
 Ofh. Why of thy thought, lago? 
 
 lago. I did not think he had been acquainted 
 with her. 
 
 Oih. O, yes ; and went between us very oft. 
 
 logo. Indeed! 
 
 Ofh. Indeed: av,indced:—Discern'st thou aught 
 in that? 
 Is he not honest! 
 
 htgo. Honest, my lord ? 
 
 Olb. Ay, honest. 
 
 logo. My lord, for aught I know. 
 
 Ofh. What dost thou think? 
 
 logo. Think, my lord? 
 
 Olh. Think, my lord! 
 
 By heaven, he echoes me, 
 As if there were some monster in his thought 
 Too hideous to be shown.— Thou dost mean some- 
 thing: 
 I heard thee say but now, — Thoulik'dst not that, 
 Wlieii Cassio left my wife: What didst not like? 
 And, when I told thee— he was of my counsel 
 In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, In- 
 deed ? 
 And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
 As il tiioii then hadst shut up in'thy brain 
 Sonic liorriliie conceit: If thou dost love me, 
 Show nil- thy thought. 
 
 logo. My lord, you know I love you. 
 
 Qth. I think thou dost ; 
 
 And,— for T know thou art full o( love and honesty. 
 Ana weitih'st thy words before thou giv'st ihem 
 
 breath, — 
 Therefore thes^e stops of thine fright me the more: 
 For sucli things, in a false disloyal knave. 
 Are tricks of custom ;' but. in a inan that's just. 
 They are close denotements, working from the 
 
 heart, 
 That passion cannot rule. 
 
 « Best uicn. a IKsitatlng. « Weight. 
 
 logo. For Michael Cassio, — 
 
 I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. 
 
 Oth. I think so too. 
 
 logo. Men should be what they seem : 
 
 Or. those that be not, 'would they might seem none! 
 
 Oth. £)ertain, men should be what they seem. 
 
 lago. WJ)y then, 
 
 I think that Cassio is an honest man. 
 
 Otii. Nay, yet there's rpore in this: 
 I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings. 
 As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of 
 
 thoughts 
 The worst of words. 
 
 lago. Good my lord, pardon me; 
 
 Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
 1 am not bound to tliat all slaves are tree to. 
 Utter my thoughts? Why, say, they are vile and 
 
 talse. — 
 As Where's tiiat palace, whereinto foul things 
 Sometimes intrude not ? Who has a breast so pure, 
 But some uncleanly apprehensions 
 Keep leets,"* and law-days, and in session sit 
 With meditations lawful ? 
 
 Otk. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, lago, 
 If tliou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his car 
 A stranger to thy thoughts. 
 
 logo. , I do beseech you, — 
 
 Though I. perchance, am vicious in my guess. 
 As I conless, it is 013' nature's plague 
 To spy into abuses ; and. oft, my jealousy 
 Shapes faults that are not, — I entreat you then, 
 From one that so imperfectly conjects.e 
 Vou take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble 
 Out of his scattering and unsure observance : 
 It were not Ibr your quiet, nor your good, 
 Nor tor my manhood, honesty, or \«isdom. 
 To let you know my thoughts. 
 
 Oih. What dost thou mean? 
 
 logo. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my 
 lord. 
 Is the immediate jewel of their souls: 
 Who steals my purse, steals trash : 'tis something, 
 
 nothing; 
 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thou- 
 sands ; 
 But he that filches from me my good name, 
 Robs me of tJiat. which not enriches him, 
 And makes me poor indeed. 
 
 Ofh. By heaven, I'll know thy thought. 
 
 logo. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; 
 Nor shall not, whilst "'tis in my custody. 
 
 Ofh. Ha! 
 
 lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy ; 
 
 It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 
 The meat it fceils on : Tliat cuckold lives in bliss, 
 Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; 
 But, O. what damned minutes tells he o'er, 
 Whodotes.yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves! 
 
 Ofh. misery! 
 
 lago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough; 
 But riches, tineless," is as poor as winter 
 To him that ever fears he sliall be poor: — 
 Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend 
 From jealousy. 
 
 Offu Why, why is this? 
 
 Think^st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy. 
 To follow still the changes of themoon 
 With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt. 
 Is — once to be resolved: Exchange me for a goat, 
 When I shall turn the business of my soul 
 To such exsutHicate and blown surmises, 
 Matching thy inlerence. 'Tis not to make me 
 
 jealous, 
 To say, — my wife is fair, feeds well, loves com* 
 
 pany. 
 Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; 
 Wliere virtue is, these are more virtuous : 
 Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
 The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt; 
 For she had eyes, rind chose nie : No, lago ; 
 I'll see, before I doulit; when I doubt, prove; 
 And, on the proot", there is no more but this, — 
 Away at once with love, or jealousy. 
 
 logo, I am glad of this, for now I shall have 
 reason 
 To show the love and duty that I bear you 
 With franker spirit : therefore, as I am bound, 
 Receive it from mc : — 1 speak not yet of proot". 
 • Courts of iixiuiry. 6 Conjectures- 
 
 ■> KuUleas, uuboundcj. 
 
Scene III. 
 
 THE MOOa OF VENICE. 
 
 r63 
 
 Look to your wife; observe her well witii Cassio; 
 
 Wear your eye — thus, not jealous, nor s^ecure : 
 
 I would not have your I'rce and noble nature, . 
 
 Out of scil-bounty, be abused ; look lo't: 
 
 I know our country disposition well: 
 
 In Venice, they do let iieaven see the pranks 
 
 They dare not show their husbands; their best 
 
 conscience 
 Is — not to leave undone, but keep unlmown. 
 
 Oik. Dost thou say sol 
 
 Iiii^o. She did deceive her father, marrying you; 
 And when she seem'd to sliake, and fear >T>ur 
 
 looks, 
 Slie lov'd them most. 
 
 0th. And so she did. 
 
 /(/,i,'^o. VVliy, go to, then ; 
 
 She Uia*.J^o young, could give out such a seeming, 
 To seel^ her father's eyes up close as oak, — 
 He thought 'twas witchcratl: — But I am much to 
 
 blame ; 
 I humbly do beseech you of your pardon, 
 For too much loving you. 
 
 Olh. I am bound to thee for ever. 
 
 Iafi:o. T see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. 
 
 0th, Not a jot, not a jot. 
 
 /f/^o. Trust me. I fear it has. 
 
 I hope, you will consider what is spoke 
 Conies from my love:— 13ut, I do see, you are 
 
 mov'd : — 
 I am to pray you, not to strain my speech 
 To grosser issues.s nor to larger reach, 
 Than to suspicion. 
 
 Olh. 1 will not. 
 
 lago. Should you do so, my lord, 
 
 My speech should fall into such vile success 
 As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy 
 
 friend:— 
 My lord, I see you are mov'd. 
 
 Oth. No, not much mov'd : — 
 
 T do not think but Desdemona's honest. 
 
 Itif^ii. Long live she so! and long live you to 
 tliink so ! 
 
 Oth. And yet, how nature, erring from itself,— 
 
 lugu. Ay, there's the point: — As, — to be bold 
 with you, — 
 N"ot to affect many proposed matches, 
 Of her own clime, complexion, and degree; 
 VVhcreto, we see, in all things nature tends: 
 Foil I one may smell, in sucJi, a will most rank 
 Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. — 
 But, jmrdon me : I do not, in posiiion, 
 ])istii.ct:y -'^peak of her: though I may fear, 
 Ih-r V ill. recoilini^ to her heller judgnient. 
 May fill to match you with her country forms, 
 And (happily) repent. 
 
 Olh. Farewell, farewell: 
 
 If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; 
 Set on tliy wife to observe: Leave me, lago. 
 
 /rg^o. My lord, I take my leave. {Going. 
 
 Olh. Why did 1 marry! — This honest creature, 
 (.loubtlcss, 
 Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. 
 
 Jugu. My lord, I would, 1 might entreat your 
 honor 
 To s*an this thing no further; leave it to time: 
 And Iliougii it be fit tiiat Cassio have his place, 
 (For, sure, he tills it up with great ability,) 
 Vol if you please to hold him olfa while, 
 You shall by that perceive him and iiis means: 
 Note, if your lady strain his entertainment' 
 With any strong or vehement opportunity ; 
 MiK-h will be seen in that. In the mean time. 
 Let me be thought too busy in my fears, 
 (As worthy cause I have, to fear — I am,) 
 And hold her free, I do beseech your honor. 
 
 Olh- Fear not my government. 
 
 lago, I once more take my leave. \^Exit, 
 
 Olh. This fellow's of exceeding honesty. 
 And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, 
 Of liuman dealings : If I do prove her haggard,2 
 Thougli that her jesses^ were my dear heart- 
 strings, 
 IM whistle her off, and let her down the wind, 
 To prey at fovtunc. Haply, for I fim black ; 
 
 B An expression from falconry: to seel a h.iwk is to sew 
 up his evf lids, » Conclusions. 
 
 » Vmh.^ Liai'd his readDiisi?ion i(> his office. 
 
 « A ppAJL'S of h:iwk; also a term of rt-proach applied to 
 a waotuu. \ 
 
 > Straps of leather by which a hawk is held ou the fist, i 
 
 And have not those soft parts of conversation 
 Tliat chamberers have: — Or, for I am declined 
 Into tlie vale of years ; — yet that's not much 
 Slie's gone; I am abused; and my relief 
 Must be — to loath her. O curse of marriage. 
 That wc can call these delicate creatures ours, 
 And not their appetites! I liad rather be a toad, 
 And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, 
 Tlian keep a corner in the thing 1 love 
 For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones; 
 Prerogativ'd are they, less Ihan the base ; 
 'Tis de.stiny unshunnable, like death ; 
 Even then this forked plagu"? is fated to us. 
 When we do quicken.^ Desdemona comes: 
 
 Enter Desdemona and Emilia. 
 If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! — 
 I'll not believe it. 
 
 Des. How now, my dear Othello 1 
 Your dinner, and the generous islanders 
 IJy you invited, do attend your presence. 
 
 Olh, 1 am to blarne. 
 
 Bts* Why is your speech so faint 1 are you not 
 well 1 
 
 Oth, I have a pain upon my forehead here. 
 
 Des. 'Faith, that's wiiii watching; 'twill away 
 again ; 
 Let me but bmd it hard, within this hour 
 It wdl be well. 
 
 Otk, Your napkin is too little ; 
 
 [He puts the Handkerchief Jrom him, and 
 it drops. 
 Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. 
 
 Des. I am very sorry that you arc not well 
 
 [Exeunt Oxn. and Dks. 
 
 Emit. I am glad I have found this napkin ; 
 This was her tirst remembrance from the Moor: 
 My wayward husband hath a hundred times 
 Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, 
 (For he conjured her, slie would ever keep it,) 
 That she reserves it evermore about her. 
 To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work: ta'en out, 
 And give it lago: 
 
 What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I; 
 I nothing, but to please his lantasy. 
 Enter Iago. 
 
 lago. How now! what do you here alone? 
 
 E/nil. Do not you chide; 1 have a thing- for you. 
 
 Iago. A thing lor me I — it is a common thing, — 
 
 Emit. Ha! 
 
 laga. To have a foolish wife. 
 
 Emit. O, is that all ! What will you give me now 
 For that same handkerchief? . 
 
 Iago. What handkerchief] 
 
 Eniil. What handkercliief? 
 Why, that the Moor Iirst gave to Desdemona; 
 That which so otten you did bid me steal. 
 
 logo. Hast stolen it from her ! 
 
 Kmil.'lSo, faith; she let it drop by negligence; 
 And to the advantage, I, being here, took't up. 
 Look, here it is. 
 
 lago. A good wench; give it me. 
 
 Emit. Wliat will you do with ii, that you have 
 been so earnest 
 To have me filch it! 
 
 lago. Why, what's that to you! 
 
 [Snatching it. 
 
 Emit. If it be not for some pinT^sc of import. 
 Give it me again: Poor lady! she U run mad, 
 When she sliall lack it. 
 
 Iago. He not you known of't; I have use tor it. 
 Go, leave me. [Exit Emilia. 
 
 I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin. 
 And let Iiim find it : Tntles, light as air. 
 Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
 As proofs of holy writ. This may do something: 
 The Moor already changes with my poison: — 
 Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 
 Which, at the first, are scarce Ibund to distaste; 
 But, witli a little act upon the blood. 
 Burn like tlic mines ot sulphur. — 1 did say so;^ 
 
 Enter Othello. 
 Look, where he comes! A^ot poppy, nor manUra- 
 
 gor;i,^ 
 Jvor all the drowsy syrups of the world. 
 Shall medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
 Whicli thou ow'dsfi yesterday. 
 
 * When Wf betrin to live. 
 
 » The mandrake has a soporific quality, c Possessed«t, 
 
7G4 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act III 
 
 Oth. Ha ! ha ! false to me 1 
 
 To me? 
 
 lago. Why, how now, general 1 no more of that. 
 
 Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the 
 rack: 
 I swear, "lis better to be much abused. 
 Than but to Imow't a little. 
 
 IcffO. How now, my lord? 
 
 Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of 
 lust? 
 I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: 
 I slept the next niijh^^ell, was free and merry; 
 I found not Cassio^s kiSKes on her lips: 
 He Ihat is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen. 
 Let him not know it. and he's not robb'd at all. 
 
 lagii. I am sorry to hear this. 
 
 0!h. I had been liappv. if the general camp, 
 Pioni'crs' and all, had tasled her sweet body. 
 So 1 had nothing known: now, for ever, 
 Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! 
 Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars. 
 That make ambition virtue! 0, farewell ! 
 Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, 
 The Kjiirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. 
 The royal banner; and all qualify. 
 Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! 
 And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
 The immortal .love's dread clamors counterfeit. 
 Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! 
 
 /"ff«. Is it possible?— My lord, 
 
 01 h. Villain, be sure youprove my love a whore; 
 Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof; 
 
 [Takin!!: hira by the Throat. 
 Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul. 
 Thou hadst been better have been born a dog. 
 Than answer my waked wrath. 
 
 I"fKu. Is it come to this? 
 
 Olli. Make me to see it; or (at the least) so 
 prove it. 
 That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop, 
 To hang a doubt on : or, woe upon thy life I 
 
 logo. My noble lord, 
 
 Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, 
 Never pr,a^- more: abandon all remorse; 
 On horror s head honors accumulate: 
 Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd. 
 For nothing canst thou to damnation add, 
 Greater than that. 
 
 lago. O grace ! O heaven defend me ! 
 
 Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense! — 
 God be wi' you ; lake mine office.— wretched 
 
 fool. 
 That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!— 
 
 monstrous world I Take note, take note, world. 
 To be direct and honest, is not sale. — 
 
 1 thank you for this proHt; and, from hence, 
 
 I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence. 
 
 Olh. Nay, stay :— Thou shouldst be honest. 
 
 Icigo. I should be wise, lor honesty's a fool, 
 And loses that it works lor. 
 
 Oth. By the world, 
 
 I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; 
 I^ think that thou art just, and think thou art not; 
 1 II have some proof; Her name, that was as fresh 
 As Dian's vi^sage, is now begrimed and black 
 As inlne own face.— If there be cords, or knives, 
 Poison, or tire, or sullbcating streams, 
 I'll not endure it.— 'Would, 1 were satisfied ! 
 
 Iiigii. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion : 
 I do repent me, that I put it to you. 
 you would be satisfied ! 
 
 Oth. Would? nay, I will. 
 
 lago. And may : But, how? howsatished, my lord ? 
 Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on ? 
 Eehdld her tupp'd i 
 
 Oth. Death and damnation! 0! 
 
 lagii. It were a tedious ditHculty, I think. 
 To bring them to that prospect: Damn them then, 
 H ever mortal eyes do see them bolster. 
 More than their own ! What then ? how then? 
 What shall I say ? Where's satislaction ! 
 It is impossible you should see this,— 
 Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys. 
 As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross 
 As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, 
 If imputation, and strung circumstances, 
 Which lead directly to the door of truth. 
 Will give you salistiiction, you may have it. 
 
 ' The vilest of th'j camp. 
 gruduU soldiers. 
 
 rioneers were generally dc- 
 
 0th. Give me a living' reason she's disloyal. 
 lagn. I do not like the office: 
 But, sith I am enter'd in this cau.«;e so far, — 
 Prick'd to it by ibolish honesty and love, — 
 I will go on. I lay with Cassi'o lately; 
 And, being troubled with a raging tooth, 
 I could not sleep. 
 
 There are a kind of men so loose of soul. 
 That in their sleeps will mutter their aliiiirs; 
 One of this kind is Cassio: 
 In sleep I heard him say,— .Stwrf Desilemonfi, 
 Let us be tvary, tet us hide nur lores; 
 And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand. 
 Cry,— O, sweet creature! and then kiss me'hard, 
 As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots. 
 That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg 
 Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then 
 Cr\o^,— Cursed/ale.' that gave thee to lite Muor! 
 Olh. O monstrous ! monstrous ! 
 logo. Nay, this was but his dream. 
 
 ^ Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion ; 
 Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. 
 
 lago. And this may help to thicken other proofs. 
 That do demonstrate thinly. 
 Oth. 1^11 tear her all to pieces. 
 
 lagn. Nay, but be wise: vet we see nothing done: 
 .«he may be honest yet. Tell me but this,— 
 Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief, 
 Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand ? 
 Olh. I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift. 
 lagn. 1 know not that; but such a liandkerchief, 
 (1 am sure it was your wile's.) did 1 to-day 
 See Cassio wipe his beard vaih. 
 Oth. Ifitbethat,— 
 
 lagii. If it be that, or any that was hers. 
 It speaks against her with the other proofs. 
 
 0/A. O, that the slave had Ibrty thousand lives; 
 One is too poor, too weak, tor my revenge! 
 Now do I see 'tis true.— Look here, lago; 
 All my Ibnd love thus 1 do blow to heaven: 
 'Tis gone. — 
 
 Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell ! 
 Yield up, love, thy crown, and hearted tliroue,9 
 To tyrannous hate! swell, bosom, with thy fraught. 
 For 'tis oi aspic's tongues ! 
 lago. Pray, be content. 
 
 Oth. 0. blood, lago, blood ! 
 
 lago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may 
 
 change. 
 Oth. Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, 
 Whose icy current and compulsive course 
 Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but. keeps due on 
 To the Propontic, and the Hellespont; 
 Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, 
 Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. 
 Till that a capable- and wide revenge 
 Swallow them up.— Now, by yond' marble heaven. 
 In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels. 
 
 1 here engage my words. 
 
 lago. Do not rise yet. — {Kneels. 
 
 \\ itness, you ever-burning lights above ! 
 Von elements that eliiJ us round about! 
 Witness, that here lago doth give up 
 The execution of his wit, hands, heart. 
 To wrong'd Othello's service ! let him command. 
 And to obey shall he in me remorse,-' 
 What bloody work .soever. 
 
 Oth. I greet thy love. 
 
 Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance boun- 
 teous, 
 And will upon the instant put thee to't: 
 Within these three days let me hear thee say, 
 That Cassio's not alivo. 
 lago. My friend is dead; 'tis done at your re- 
 quest ; 
 But let her live. 
 
 Olh. Damn her, lewd ininv ! O, damn her! 
 
 Come, go with me apart ; I will withdraw. 
 To furnish me with someswirt means of death 
 For the liiir devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. 
 lago. 1 am your own Ibr ever. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— T/ie.fomf. 
 Enter Desdk.mo.sa, K.mii,i,v, ami Clown. 
 Des. Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant 
 Cassio lies ? 
 
 8 Speaking, manifest. 
 
 9 'the he.irt on which thou wast enthroned. 
 
 ' Fivii^ht. load. ^ Ciipiicioas. a Kmbr.ico, 
 
 « Not of malice to others, but of tenderness for him. 
 
Scene IV. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 765 
 
 Ch. I dare not say, he lies anywhere 1 
 
 I)i:s. Why. man 1 
 
 C/o. He is a soldier; and for me to say a soldier 
 lies, is stabbins:. 
 
 IJts. Go to ; Where lodges he 1 
 
 do. To tell you -Riiere he lodges, is to tell you 
 vv'here I lie. 
 
 Des. Can any thing be made of this? 
 
 Clo. 1 know not where he lodges; and for mc 
 to devise a lodging* and say — he lies here, or he 
 lies there, were to lie in my own throat, 
 
 Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified 
 by report ! 
 
 Vl4). I will catechize the world for him; that is, 
 make questions, and by them answer. 
 
 Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him 
 I have moved my lord in Iiis behalf, and hope, all 
 will be well. 
 
 C'o. To do this is within the compass of man's 
 wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Des, Where should I lose that handkerchief, 
 Emilia] 
 
 J^miL I know not, madam. 
 
 Deft. Believe me, 1 had rather have lost my purse 
 Full of cruzadoes.5 And, but my noble Moor 
 Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness 
 As jealous creatures are, it were enough 
 To put him to ill-thinking. 
 
 J-^/nil. Is he not jealous 1 
 
 Des. Who, hcl I think, the .sun, where he was 
 born, 
 Drew all such humors from him. 
 
 Emil. Look, where he comes. 
 
 Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio 
 Be caird to him. — How is't with you, my lordl 
 
 Enter Othello. 
 
 Oth. Well, my good lady :— [^5i(/f.] 0, hard- 
 ness to dissemble ! — 
 liow do you, Desdemona % 
 
 Des. Well, my good lord. 
 
 Otk. Give me your hand: This hand is moist, 
 my lady. 
 
 Des. It yet has fo\t no age, nor known no sorrow. 
 
 01 h. This argues fruitftilness, and liberal heart; — 
 Hot. hot, and moist : This hand of yours requires 
 A sequesler from liberty, fasting and prayer, 
 Much castigatioii. exercise devout; 
 For bere's a young and sweating devil here, 
 Tiiat commonly rebels, 'Tis a good hand, 
 A frank one. 
 
 Des. You may indeed say so; 
 For 'twas that hand that gave awa)' my heart, 
 
 Oth. A liberal hand: The hearts, of old, gave 
 hands; 
 But our new heraldiy is — hands, not hearts. 
 
 Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your 
 promise. 
 
 Oth. What promise, chuck 1 
 
 Des. I liave sent to bid Cassio come speak with 
 yon. 
 
 Otk. I have a salt and sullen rheum oflcnds me: 
 Lend me thy handkerchief. 
 
 Des. Here, my lord. 
 
 Otfi. That which I gave you. 
 
 Des. 1 have it not about me. 
 
 Olh. Not? 
 
 Des. No, indeed, my lord. 
 
 Otiu Tiiat is a fault: 
 
 Tliat handkercliief 
 Did an Egyptian to my mother give; 
 She was a ciiarmer,"^ and could almost read 
 The thought-s of people: she told her, .while she 
 
 kept it, 
 'Twould malie her amiable, and subdue my father 
 Entirely to her love; but if she lost it, 
 Or inatle a gift of it, my father's eyo 
 Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt 
 After new fancies: She, dying, gave it me; 
 And bid me, when my fate would have me wivo, 
 To ^ive it her. I did so : and taKe heed oft, 
 Make it a darling like your precious eye; 
 To lose or give't away," were sueh perdition, 
 As nothing else could match. 
 
 De^. Is it possible? 
 
 Oth. 'Tis true: there's magic in the wpb of it: 
 A sibyl, that had uumberM in the world 
 The sun to make two hundred compasses, 
 
 » A Portugaoso coin. « EncUantroas, 
 
 In her prophetic fury sew'd the work : 
 Tiie worms were haflowM that did breed the silk; 
 And it was died in mummy, which the sldlful 
 Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. 
 
 Des. Indeed ! is't true ? 
 
 Oth. Most veritable; therefore look lo'l well. 
 
 Des. Then 'would to heaven, that I liad never 
 seen it. 
 
 Oth. Ha! wherefore? 
 
 Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash?"^ 
 
 Oth, Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the 
 way ? 
 
 Des. Heaven bless us ! 
 
 Oth. Sav you ? 
 
 Des. It'is not lost; But wliat an if itwere? 
 
 Oth. Ha! 
 
 Des. 1 say, it is not lost. 
 
 Ofh. Fctch't, let me see it. 
 
 Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now ; 
 This is a trick, to put me from my suit; 
 I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again. 
 
 Oth* Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind mis- 
 gives. 
 
 Des. Come, come; 
 You'll never meet a more suflicient man. 
 
 Oth. The iiandkerchief, 
 
 Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. 
 
 Oth. The handkerchief, 
 
 Des. A man that, all his time, 
 Hath founded his good fortune on your love ; 
 Shared dangers with you ; 
 
 Oth. The handkerchief, 
 
 Des. In sooth. 
 Yon are to blame. 
 
 Otti. Away! [£.r?Y Othello. 
 
 Emit. Is not this man jealous? 
 
 . Des. I ne'er saw this before. 
 Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: 
 I am most unhappy in the loss of it. 
 
 Emit, 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man : 
 They are all but stomachs, and we all but food ; 
 They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, 
 They belch us. Look you ! Cassio, and my husband. 
 
 Enter Iago and Cassio. 
 
 logo. There is no other way; 'tis she must do't; 
 And, lo, the happiness ! go, and importune her. 
 
 Dcfi. How now, good Cassio ? what's the newa 
 w ith you ? ♦ 
 
 Cfis. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you. 
 That, by your virtuous means, I may again 
 l-^xist, and be a member of his love, 
 Wlioni 1. with all the duty of my heart, 
 I'^ntiroly honor; I would not be delay'd : 
 If my otlence be of such mortal kind, 
 Tliat neither service past, nor present sorrows, 
 Nor purpos'd merit in futurity. 
 Can ransom me into his love again, 
 But to know so must be my bcnelit ; 
 So shall I clothe me in a torced content, 
 And shut myself up in some other course, 
 To tbrtune's alms. 
 
 Des. Alas ! thrice gentle Cassio, 
 
 My advocation is not now in tune; 
 My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, 
 Were he in favor- as in humor alter'd. 
 So help me, every spirit sanctilied. 
 As I have sjioken for you all my best; 
 And stood within the blank of his displeasure,^ 
 For my free speech ! You must a while be patient : 
 What 1 can do, I will; and more I will, 
 Thau for myself 1 dare : let that suffice you, 
 
 Ingo. Is niy lord angry'' 
 
 Emit. He went hence but now, 
 
 And, certainly, in strange unquietness. 
 
 In^o. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, 
 When it hath blown \\\^ ranks into the air; 
 And. like the devil, from his very arm 
 Puifd liis own brother ;^And can he bo angry? 
 Something of moment, then ; I will go meet him; 
 There's matter inH indeed, if he be angry. 
 
 Des. I pr'ythoe do so.— Something, sure, ot 
 stale, — [Ejcit Iago. 
 
 Either from Venire; or some unhateh'd practice* 
 Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to liim, — 
 Hath puddled his clear spirit : and, in such cases, 
 Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, 
 Though great ones are their object, *Tis even so; 
 
 1 Yihemently, violently. • In countenance, 
 
 • Withia the sljot of his anger. * 'f reason. 
 
766 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 For let our finger ache, and it endues 
 
 Our other healthful members even to that sense 
 
 Of pain: Nay, we must think, men are not gods; 
 
 Nor of them look lor such observances 
 
 As tit the bridal.^ — Beshrew me much, Emilia, 
 
 I was (unhandsome warrior as I am) 
 
 Arraigning his unkindness with ray soul; 
 
 But now, I lind, I l)ad subornM the witness, 
 
 And he''s indicted falsely. 
 
 Efuil, Pray heaven, it be state matters, as you 
 think; 
 And no conception, nor no jealous toy, 
 Concerning you. 
 
 Des. Alas the day! I never gave him cause. 
 
 Emil. But jealous souls will notbe answer'd so; 
 They are not ever jealous for the cause, 
 But jealous for they are jealous : 'tis a monster, 
 Begot upon itself, born on itself. 
 
 Des. Heaven keep that monster from OthclIo''s 
 mind ! 
 
 Emit. Lady, amen. 
 
 DeS' I will go seek him. — Cassio, waUi here 
 about : 
 If I do find him fit. V\\ move your suit, 
 And seek to etlect it to my uttermost. 
 
 Cos. 1 humbly thank your ladyship. 
 
 {Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Bum. Save you, friend Cassio ! 
 
 Vets. What make you from home"! 
 
 How IS it with you, my most tair Bianca T 
 I 'taith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. 
 
 Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. 
 What! keep a week away ! seven days and nights'? 
 Eight-score eight hours'! and lovers' absent hours, 
 
 More tedious than the dial eight score times? 
 
 weary reckonihg ! 
 
 Cas. Pardon me, Bianca ; 
 
 1 Iiave this while with leaden thoughts been press'd; 
 But I shall, in a more continuate tnne^ 
 
 Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, 
 
 [Giving her Desdemona's Handkerchief. 
 Take me this work out.'i 
 
 Bian. O, Cassio, whence came thisi 
 
 This is some token from a newer friend. 
 To the felt absence now I feel a cause : 
 Is it come to this ! Well, well. 
 
 Cus. . Woman, go to ! 
 
 Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, 
 From whence you have them. You arcjcalous now, 
 That this is from some mistress, some remem- 
 brance: 
 No, in good troth, Bianca. 
 
 Bian. Why, whose is it ? 
 
 Cas. Ilmownot,sweet: I founllitin my chamber 
 I like the work well; ere it be demanded, 
 (As, like enough, it will.) I'd have it copied: ' 
 Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time. 
 
 Bian. Leave you I wherefore ! • 
 
 Cas. I do attend here on the general; 
 And think it no addition, nor ray wish. 
 To have him see mewoman'd. 
 
 Bian. Why, I pray youl 
 
 Cas. Not that I love you not. 
 
 Bian. But that you do not love me. 
 
 I pray you, bring me on the way a little ; 
 And say, if I shall see you soon at night. 
 
 Cw-'f. 'Tis but a little way, that I can bring you, 
 For I attend here : but I'll see you soon. 
 
 Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced. 
 * [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.—Thesame. 
 Enter Othello and Iago. 
 
 la^o. Will you think so? 
 
 0th.* Think so, Iago? 
 
 Iago. What, 
 
 To kiss in private ?' 
 
 0th. An nnautlioriz'd kiss. 
 
 Iago. Or to be naked with her friend abed, 
 An iiour. or more, not meaning any harm ! 
 
 0th. Naked abed, Iago, and not mean harm? 
 It is hypocrisy aganist tlie devil: 
 They that mean virtuously, and yet do so. 
 The devil their virtue tern pts,and they tempt heaven. 
 
 Iago. So they do nothing, 'lis a venial slip: 
 But if I give my wife a handkerchief, 
 
 Otii. What then? 
 
 Iago. Wliy then 'tis hers,ray lord ; and, being hers, 
 She may, I think, bestow't on any man. 
 
 Otii. She is protectress of her honor too ; 
 May she give that? 
 
 iago. Iter honor is an essence that's not seen; 
 They have it very oft,- that liave it not: 
 But. for the handkerchief, 
 
 Otli. Bv heaven, I would most gladly have forgot 
 It:— 
 Thou said'st, — O, it comes o'er ray memory. 
 As dolh the raven o'er the inlected house. 
 Boding to aH,3— he had my handkerchief. 
 
 Iago. Ay, what of that ] 
 
 0th. That's not so good, now. 
 
 Iago. What, if I had said, I had seen him do you 
 wrong? 
 Or heard him say, — As knaves be such abroad. 
 Who having, by their own importunate suit, 
 Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, 
 Convinced or supjjlied-* them, cannot choose 
 But they must blab 
 
 0th. Hath he said any thing? 
 
 Iago. He hafh. my lord ; but, be you well assur'd, 
 No more tlian he'll unswear. 
 
 0th. What halh lie said ? 
 
 Jago. 'Faith, that he did,— I know not what he 
 did. 
 
 » Tho nuptial feast. 
 
 ■ The raven was tbuuglit to Le a constant attendant on 
 a house infectod with the jiLij^'ue. 
 * Old spelling of Buppled, i. c. softened. 
 
 0th. What? what? 
 
 Iago. Lie 
 
 0th. With her? 
 
 Iago. With her, on Iier; wiiat you will. 
 
 0th. Lie with her I lie on her! — We say, lie on 
 her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's 
 fulsome. — Handkerchiel, — confessions, — handker- 
 chief. — To conless, and be hanged lor his labor,— 
 First to be hanged, and then to confess: — I tremble 
 at it. Nature would not invest herself in such 
 shadowing passion, without some instruction. It is 
 not words, that shake rae thus: — Pish! — Noses, 
 ears, and lips: — Is it possible ?— Conless !— Hand- 
 kerchief !—0, devil !— [Falt^ in a Trance* 
 
 Iago. Work on, 
 My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are 
 
 caught; 
 And many worthy and chaste dames, even thus. 
 All guiltless meet reproach. — What, ho ! my lord ! 
 
 Enter Cassio. 
 My lord, I say ! Othello !— How now, Cassio ? 
 
 Cas. What is the matter? 
 
 Iago. My lord is liiilen into an epilepsy; 
 This is his second fit; he liad one yesterday. 
 
 Cas. Hub him about the temples. 
 
 Iago. No, forbear: 
 
 The lethargy must have his quiet course. 
 If not, lie loams at mouth ; and, by-and-by. 
 Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs. 
 Do you withdraw yourself a little while, 
 He will recover straight; when he is gone, 
 1 would on great occasion speak witJi you. — 
 
 [Exit Cassio. 
 How is it, general ? have you not hurt your head \ 
 
 0th'. Dost thou mock rae ? 
 
 la^o. I raock you ! no, by heaven; 
 
 'Would you would bear your Ibrtunes liUe a man. 
 ^ 0th. A horned man's a monster, and a beast. 
 
 logo. There's many a beatst then in a populous 
 city, 
 And many a civil monster. 
 
 Oih. Diii he conless it? 
 
 logo. Good sir, be a man. 
 
 Tinnk, every bearded fellow, that's but yoked, 
 
 » Time less interrupted. 
 
 6 The meaning is. not pioli out the work, hut copy thii 
 work in another handkerchief. 
 
Scene I. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 767 
 
 May draw with you : there's millions now alive 
 
 That nifjhtly lie m those unproper beds, 
 
 Which tliey dare swear peculiar; your case is better. 
 
 O, 'tis the spite of hell, the nend's arch-mock, 
 
 To lip a wanton in a secure couch, 
 
 And to suppose her chaste ! No, let me know ; 
 
 A nd. linowing what I am. I know wiiat she shall be. 
 
 0/k. 0, thou art wise ; 'tis certain. 
 
 Ja.^0. Stand you a while apart; 
 
 C'online yourself but in a patient list." 
 Whilst you were here, ercwhile mad with yourgrief, 
 (A passion most unsuitms such a man.) 
 Cassio came hither: I shilled him away. 
 And laid ^ood 'scuse upon your ecstasy; 
 Bade him anon return, and here speak with me; 
 The which he promised. Do but encave^ yourself. 
 And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, 
 That dwMll in every region of his face ; 
 For I will make him tell the talc anew, — 
 Where, how, how otl, how long ago, and when 
 He hath, and is again to cope your wife; 
 I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience ; 
 Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen, 
 And nothing of a man, 
 
 Ofh. Dost thou hear, lago ■! 
 
 I will be found most cunning in my patience, 
 But (dost thou hear J) most bloody. 
 
 lagd. That's not amiss; 
 
 But yet keep lime in all. Will you withdraw 1 
 
 [Othello withdraws. 
 Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, 
 A housewife, that, by selling her desires, 
 Buys herself bread and clothes : it is a creature 
 That dotes on Cassio, — as 'tis the strumpet's plague, 
 To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one; . 
 He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain 
 From the excess of laugliler: — Here he comes: — 
 
 Re-enter Cassio. 
 As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; 
 And liis-unbookish^ jealousy must construe 
 poor Cassio's -smiles, gestures, and light behaviour 
 Quite in the wrong. — How do you now, lieu- 
 tenant? 
 
 Co.t. Tiie worser, that you give me the addition, ' 
 Wiiose want even kills me. 
 
 la^o. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure oft. 
 Now, if this suit hiy in Biaiica's pnwer, 
 
 [Speaking lower. 
 How quickly sliould you speed! 
 
 Ciis. Alas, poor caitiff! 
 
 0(h, Look, how he laughs alreiuly ! [Aside. 
 
 logo, i nt-ver knew a woman love man so. 
 
 C«.y. Alas, poor rogue ! 1 think,;' faith, she loves 
 me. 
 
 0th. Now lie denies it faintly, and laughs it out. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 lago. Do you hear, Cassio? 
 
 Ot/i. Now he importunes him 
 
 To tell it o'er: Go to ; well said, well said. [Aside. 
 
 lago. She gives it out, that you shall marry her: 
 Do >ou intend it ? 
 
 Cas. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 0th. Do you triumph, Roman'! do you triumph? 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Cas. I marry her I — what ? a customer !^ I 
 pr'ythee, hear some charity to my wit; do not think 
 It so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 0th. So, so, so, 50 ; They laugh that win. [Aside. 
 
 lago. 'P'aith, the cry goes, that you shall marry 
 her. 
 
 Cas. Pr'ythoe, say true, 
 
 lago. I am a very villain else. 
 
 0th. Have you scored me ? Well. [Aside. 
 
 Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out: she 
 is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love 
 and flattery, not out of my promise. 
 
 0th. lago beckoiis me; noW he begins the story. 
 
 [Asiih. 
 
 Cas. She was here even now: she haunts me in 
 e\ery place. I was, the other day, talking on the 
 sea-bank with certain Venetians ; and thither comes 
 this bauble ; by this hand, siic falls thus about my 
 neck : 
 
 0th. Crying, O dear Cassio! as it were: his 
 gesture imports it. ' [Aside. 
 
 Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; 
 Bo hales, and pUlls me : ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 I Withiu tlie lif'unds of patience. » Hide, -s Ignorant. 
 * Title of lieutenant. a A common woman. 
 
 0th. Now he tells, how she pluck'd iiim to my 
 chamber : O, I see that nose of yours, but not that 
 dog I shall throw it to. [As}de» 
 
 Cas. Well, I must leave her company. 
 
 lago. Before me ! look where she comes. 
 Enter Biaxca. 
 
 Cas. *Tis such another fitchew !3 marry, a per- 
 fumed one. — What do you mean by this haunting 
 of me ? 
 
 Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt j'ou! 
 What did you mean by that same handkerchief, 
 you gave me even now ? I was a fine fool to take it. 
 i must take out the whole work ? — A likely piece 
 of work, that you should find it in your chamber, 
 and not know who letl it there! This'is some minx's 
 token, and I must take out the work? Tiiere,~give 
 it your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I'll 
 take out no work on't. 
 
 Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca? how nowl 
 how now ? 
 
 0th. By heaven, that should be my handkerchief! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, you 
 may: an you will not, come when you are next 
 ])repared for. [Exit. 
 
 la>^o. After her, after her. 
 
 Cas. 'Faith, I must, she'll rail in the street else. 
 
 lago. Will you sup there? 
 
 Cas 'Faith, 1 intend so. 
 
 lago. Well, I may chance to sec you; for I would 
 very lain speak with you. 
 
 Cas. Pr'ythee, come; will you? 
 
 la}xo. (Jo to; say no more. [Exit CaSSIO. 
 
 0th. How shall I murder him, lago \ 
 
 lago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his 
 vice f 
 
 0th. O, lag..! 
 
 I/igii. And did you see the handkerchief? 
 
 Ot/i. Was tiiat inine? 
 
 lago. Yours, by this hand : and to see how he 
 prizes the Ibolish woman, your wife! she gave it 
 Inm. and iie liath given it his whore. 
 
 0th. I would liave him nine years a-killing:— 
 A line woman ! a fair woman! a sweet v.oman ! 
 
 logo. Nay, you must forget tliat. 
 
 0th. Ay, let her rot and perish, and be tLamned 
 to-night; for she shall not live: No, my heart is 
 turned to stone; I strike it. and it iiurls my Iiand. 
 O, the world liath not a sweeter creature: sho 
 might lie by an emperor-s side, and counuand him 
 tasks. 
 
 lago. Nay, that's not your way. 
 
 0th. Hang her! I do but say what she is: — So 
 delicate with her needle ! — An admirable musician! 
 O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! — 
 Of so high and j)Ienlcous wit and invention! — 
 
 Jiigo. She's the worse fur all this. 
 
 Otti. (), a thousand, a thousand times: — And 
 then, of so gentle a cojidition !* 
 
 logo. Ay, loo gentle. 
 
 Otk. Nay, thal*s certain : But yet (he pity of it, 
 lago ! — O, lago, the pity of it, lago ! 
 
 lago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give 
 her patent to oltend ; for, if it touch not you, it 
 comes near nobody. 
 
 Oth. I will chop her into me.sses: — Cuckold me! 
 
 lago. O, 'lis foul in her. 
 
 Oth. With mine olhcer! 
 
 I'l^o. That's fouler. 
 
 ^Oth. Get me some poison, Lago; this night: — 
 rUnotexpostuIate with her, lest iier body and beau- 
 ty unpnnide my mind again: — this night, lago. 
 
 lago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in het 
 bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. 
 
 Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases; very 
 good. 
 
 lago. And, for Cassio, — let me be his under- 
 taker: 
 You shall hear more by midnight. 
 
 [A Trumpet within. 
 
 Oth. Excellent good.— What trumpet is that 
 same ? 
 
 lago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lo- 
 dovico. 
 Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with 
 him. 
 
 Enter LoDovtco, Desdemona, and Attendants. 
 
 Lod. 'Save you, worthy general ! 
 
 3 A polecat. « Of so sweet a disposition. 
 
768 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Oih. With all my heart, sir. 
 
 Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you. 
 [Give,<i h-ini a Packet. 
 Olli. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. 
 
 [Opens t/ie Packet and reads. 
 DCS. And what s the news. good cousin Lodovico? 
 I:igo. I arn very glad to see you, signior; 
 Welcome to Cyprus. 
 Lad. 1 thanli you : How does lieutenant Cassio7 
 J't,i;n. Lives, sir. 
 
 Dts. Cousin, there's fallen between him and mv 
 lord 
 An unkind breach: but you shall make all well. 
 Olh. Are you sure of that? 
 Ves. My lord ? 
 
 0th. T/iis fait you not to do, as you tvill— 
 
 [Reads. 
 Lod. He did not call: he's busy in the paper. 
 Is tlicre division 'twixt my lord and Cassio] 
 
 Dcs. A most unliappy one; I would do much 
 To alone"! them, for the love I bear to Cassio. 
 Ofh. Fire and brimstone ! 
 Ves. My lord ? 
 
 Of/i. Are you wise 7 
 
 Des. What, is he ansry? 
 
 Lod. 'May be, the letter mov'd him ; 
 
 For. as I think, they do command him home, 
 Deputing Cassio in his government. 
 Vis. By my troth, I am glad on't. 
 Ot/i. Indeed? 
 
 Ves. My lord 1 
 
 Oth. I am glad to see you mad. 
 -Df.'- How, sweet Othello? 
 
 0//i. Devil ! [ striking her. 
 
 I^es. I have not deserv'd this. 
 
 Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in 
 Venice, 
 Though I should swear I saw it: 'Tis very much : 
 Make her amends, she weeps. 
 
 O/li. O devil, devil ! 
 
 If that the earth could teem witli woman's tears, 
 Eacli drop .she falls would prove a crocodile :— 
 Out ol my sight! 
 Des. I will not stay to otTcnd you. 
 
 T^ , ~ , [Going, 
 
 /.Of/. Truly, an obedient lady:— 
 I do beseech your lordship, call her back. 
 
 Otti. iMistress, 
 
 Ves, My lord ? 
 
 01 li. What would you with her, sir? 
 
 Lod. Who, I, my lord ! 
 
 0//(. Ay; you didwisli that I would make her turn: 
 Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on. 
 And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep ; 
 And slie's obedient, as you say,— obedient,— 
 Very obedient:— Proceed you in your tears.— 
 Concermng this, sir,— well-painted passion! 
 I am commanded home: Get jou away; 
 I'll send (or you anon.— Sir, I obey Iho mandate, 
 And will return to Venice;— Hence, avaunt! 
 
 . , „ , [E.rit Desdemona. 
 
 Cassio shall have my place. And,— sir, to-night, 
 I do entreat lliat we' may sup together. 
 You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats and 
 monkeys! [Exit. 
 
 I.od. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate' 
 Call— all-in-all sutTicient?- This the noble nature 
 Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue 
 The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, 
 Could neither graze, nor pierce ? 
 I'iKo. He is much changed. 
 
 Lod. Are his wits safe ? is he not light of brain? 
 lugo. He is tliat he is; I may not breathe my 
 censure. 
 What he might be,— if, what he might, ho is not,— 
 I would to heaven he were. 
 J'Ol. What, strike his wife ! 
 
 laso. 'Faith, that was not so well ; Yet, 'would I 
 knew 
 That stroke would prove the worst. 
 
 ^ -''"''■„ , Is it his use? 
 
 Or did the letters work upon his blood. 
 And iievv-create this fault? 
 
 •f"S"- Alas, alas! 
 
 It is not honesty in me, to speak 
 What I have seen and known. Y'ou shall observe 
 
 him ; 
 And his own courses will denote him so, 
 
 * Roconcilo.' 
 
 That I may save my speech : Do but go after, 
 And mark liow he continues. 
 Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— .4 Room in l/ie Ca.Htle. 
 Enter Otheli.o and Emilia. 
 
 Oth.. You have seen nothing then ? 
 
 Emit. Nor ever heard ; nor ever did suspect. 
 
 Olh. Ves, you have seen Cassio and she together. 
 
 Enill. But then I saw no harm: and then I heard 
 Each syllable that breath made up between them. 
 
 Oth. What, did they never whisper ? 
 
 Emit. Never, my lord. 
 
 Olh. Nor send you out of the way ? 
 
 Emil. Never. 
 
 Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor 
 nothing ? 
 
 Emit. Never, my lord. 
 
 Olh. That's strange. 
 
 Emit. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, 
 Lay down my soul at stake: If you think other. 
 Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. 
 If any wretch hath put this in your head. 
 Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! 
 F'or, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, 
 There's no man happy: the purest of their wives 
 Is tout as slander. 
 
 Otii. Bid her come hither: — go. — 
 
 „. [Exit Emilia. 
 
 She says enough:— yet she's a simple bawd 
 That cannot say as inuch. This is a subtle whore, 
 A closct-lock-and-key of villanoiis secrets: 
 And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen herdo't. 
 • Re-enter Emilia, with Desdemona. 
 
 Ves. My lord, what is your will? 
 
 Olh. Pray, chuck, come hither. 
 
 Ves. What is your pleasure ? 
 
 Olh. Let me see your eyes : 
 
 Look in my face. 
 
 Ves. What horrible fancy's this? 
 
 Oth. Some of your function, mistress : 
 
 (To Emilia. 
 Leave procreants alone, and shut the door: 
 Cough, or cry— hem, if anybody come: 
 Your mystery, your mystery ;— nay, despatch. 
 
 [E.ril Emilia. 
 
 Ves. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im- 
 port ? 
 I understand a fury in your words. 
 But not the words. 
 
 Olh. Why, what art tliou? 
 
 Ves. Your wife, my lord ; your true 
 
 And loyal wife. 
 
 Olh. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 
 
 Lest, being like one ofheaven,the devils themselves 
 Should tear to seize Uiee: therefore be double- 
 
 damn'd. 
 Swear— thou art honest. 
 
 Ves. Heaven doth truly Imow it. 
 
 Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art lalse as 
 hell. 
 
 Ves. To whom, my lord ? with whom ? How am 
 I lalse? 
 
 Oth. O Desdemona! — away! away! away! 
 
 Ves. Alas, the heavy day !— Why do you we 
 Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord ? 
 If, haply, you my father do suspect. 
 An instrument o'f this your calling back. 
 Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost liim, 
 Why, I have lost him too. 
 
 Olh. Had it pleas'd Heaven 
 
 To try me with affliction; had he rain'd 
 All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head 
 Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; 
 Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; 
 I should have found in-some part of my soul 
 A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make ine 
 A li.xed beure, for tho time of scorn 
 To ]ioiiit liis slow and moving finger a*, — 
 ! O ! 
 
 Vet could I bear tliat too ; well, very well : 
 But there, where I have garncr'd' up my heart 
 Where either I must live, or boar no lile; 
 Tlie fountain from the which my current tuns. 
 Or else dries up; to bo discarded thence! 
 Or keep it as a cistern lor foul toads 
 
 • Treasured up, 
 
 veep? 
 
Scene II. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 769 
 
 To knot and gender in!— turn thy complexion 
 
 tiicrc! 
 Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim; 
 Ay, tJiere, look grim a.*! hell ! 
 
 i)f,<f. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest. 
 
 Oik. O. ay; as .summer flics are in the shamhles, 
 That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, 
 Who art so lovely fair, and smelTst so sweet, 
 Tliat the sense aches at thee.— 'Would thou hadst 
 nC'Cr been born ! 
 
 DfT.f. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ! 
 
 Oih. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 
 Made to write whore uiion ? What committed! 
 Committed !— O tliou public commoner! 
 I should make very Ibrgcs of my cheeks, 
 That would to cinders burn up modesty* 
 Did I but speak thy deeds.— What commitled ! 
 Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; 
 Tlie bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, 
 Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth. 
 And will not hear it : What committed !^ 
 Impudent strumpet! 
 
 lies. By, heaven, you do me wrong. 
 
 0th. Are not j'ou a strumpet? 
 
 Dcs. No, as I am a Cliristian : 
 
 If to preserve this vessel for my lord, 
 From any other Ibul unlawful touch. 
 Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none. 
 
 0th. What, not a whore ! 
 
 Des. No, as I shall be saved. 
 
 0th. Is it possible? 
 
 Defi. O, lieaven forgive us ! 
 
 0th. I cry you mercy, then ; 
 
 I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, 
 That married with Othello. — You, mistress. 
 
 Re-enter Emilia. 
 That have' the office opposite to .Saint Peter, 
 And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you: 
 We liave done our course: there's money lor your 
 
 pains ; 
 I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. 
 
 [Kx-it. 
 
 Emit. Alas, wliat does this gentleman conceive? — 
 How do you, madam ? liow do you, my good lady? 
 
 Des. 'I'aith, half asleep. 
 
 Untit. (lOOft madam, wJial's the matter with my 
 lord ! 
 
 Dcs. With who? 
 
 Kmit. Why, witli my lord, madam. 
 
 Des. Who is thy lord ? 
 
 Kiiiil. He that is yours, sweet lady. 
 
 Des. I have none: Do not talk to me, Kmilia; 
 I cannot weep; nor answer I have none. 
 But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night 
 Lay on my bed my wedding-sheets, — remember; — 
 And call thy husband hither. 
 
 Emit. Here is a change, indeed ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Des. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. 
 How have I been beliaved, that he miglit stick 
 The sinall'st opinion on my great'st abuse ? 
 
 Re-enter Emilia, with Iago. 
 
 lago. What is your pleasure, madam ? How is it 
 with you ? 
 
 Des. I cannot tell. Those that do leach young 
 babes. 
 Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks: 
 He might have chid me so ; for, ni good faith, 
 1 am a child to chiding. 
 
 Rign. What's the matter, lady ? 
 
 Emit. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her, 
 Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her. 
 As true hearts cannot bear. 
 
 Des. Am I that name, Iago? 
 
 Rigo. What name, fair lady ? 
 
 /)>* Such as, she says, my lord did say I was. 
 
 Emit, lie caird her, whore ; a beggar, in his drink. 
 Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.' 
 
 Rigo. Why did he so? 
 
 Des. I do not know ; I am sure, I am none such. 
 
 Riga. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day ! 
 
 Eniil. Has she Ibrsook so many noble matches. 
 Her lather, and her country, and her friends. 
 To becaird — whore? would it not make one weep? 
 
 Des. It is my wretched fortune. 
 
 logo. Beshrew him for it ! 
 
 How comes this trick upon him? 
 
 1 Itjs dmb. 
 
 40 
 
 Dcs. N;iy, J:eavcn dolh know. 
 
 Emil. I will be hans-cl, il' some eternal villain, 
 Some busy and insinuation ro^ue, 
 Some cotr;;in;;. rozenitifc slave, to ^et some ofTiee, 
 Have not devisM tlii.s slander; PIl be huiiL^M else. 
 
 If'K'K Fye, there's no such man; it is impossible 
 
 Br.s: If any sucli there be, lie.iven pardon him ! 
 
 Eniil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his 
 bones ! 
 Why should he call her, whore? wlio keeps her 
 
 company ! 
 What place ? what timel what form? what like- 
 lihood I 
 The Moor''s abused by some most villar.ons knave, 
 Some base notorious knave, some scurvy foHow : — 
 O, heaven, that such companions^ thouMst unfold ; 
 And put in every honest iiand a whip, 
 To lash the rascal naked throui^h the world, 
 Even from the east to the west! 
 
 Idi^n. Speak within doot. 
 
 Emit. O.fye upon him ! somesuchs(inirc Jie was, 
 That turn'd your wit the seamy side'^ without. 
 And mode you to suspect me with the iMoor. 
 
 In^o. You are a fool ; go to. 
 
 Des. 0, good Iago, 
 
 What shall I do to win my lord again ! 
 Good friend, go to him; lor, by this light of heaven, 
 
 I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel : — 
 If eVr my will did trespass Vainst his love, 
 Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; 
 Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
 Delighted them in any other form; 
 
 Or that 1 do not yet, and ever did, 
 
 And ever will. — thouj;h he do shake me ofl" 
 
 To beggarly divorcement. — love him di'ariy. 
 
 Comfort lorswear me! Urdiiudness mny do' mucli; 
 
 And Ids unliindness may dcleat my liJe, 
 
 But never taint my love. I can't say, whore; 
 
 II does abhor me, now 1 speak the word; 
 To do the act that might Ihe addition' earn. 
 Not the world's mass of vaniiy could make me. 
 
 Iago. I pray you be content; 'tis but his humor; 
 
 The business of the stale does hini cHence, 
 
 And he does chide with you. 
 Dts. If *tvvcrc no other. — 
 
 hi'^i). It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpe/s 
 
 Hark, how these instruments summon to supper ! 
 
 And (he great messengers of Venice slay: 
 
 Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. 
 
 [Exeunt Dksdemona a7ifl EiuaiA. 
 
 Enter Rodeiugo. 
 
 How now, Roderigo ? 
 
 Kod. I do not tJnd that thou deul'st justly 
 with me. 
 
 Ifigfi. What in the contrary? 
 
 Rori. Everyday thou dofl'st- me with some device, 
 Iago; and rather {as it seems to me now) kt^ej^'st 
 from nic all conveniency, than suppllest me with 
 the h^ist advantage of hope. I wdl, indeed, no 
 longer endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, lo put 
 up in peace what already I have foolishly suUered. 
 
 Itifi;if. Will you hear nie, Roderigo? 
 
 Ro I. I liave heard too much ; for your wuads and 
 perlormances are no kin together. 
 
 /c/ga Von charge me most unjustly. 
 
 Rtiil. With naught but Irulli. I 'have wasted 
 myself out of my means. The jewels you have had 
 fmm me. to deliver to Desdemona, wo'uld half have 
 ci-rrnpled a votarist: Vou have told me— she has 
 iecei\ed tliem, and returned me expectations and 
 eotntorts of sudden respect and acquittance ;3 buti 
 find none. 
 
 Ingo. Well; go to; very well. 
 
 Rixl. Very well ! go to ! I cannot go to, man; nor 
 'lis Mi^t very well : fcJy this hajid;, L say. it is very 
 si-iirvy ; and begin to find mjself lobbed in it. 
 
 Rigo. Very well. 
 
 Ritl. I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make 
 myself known to Desdemona: If she will reiurn 
 me my jewels, I will -ive over my suit. and reju'Mt 
 my unlawful solicitation: if not, assure yourself, 
 1 will seek satisfaction olyou. 
 
 Rign, You have said now. 
 
 Rthi. Ay, and I have said nothing, but v.hat I 
 protest intendment of doing. 
 
 Utg<). WJiy, now I see there's mettle in thee; and 
 
 a Fi-Ilows. 9 iDside out. ^ Title. 
 
 a Put' St me off. ! Kiquital. 
 
1 1 
 
 70 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IV. Scene IIL 
 
 even, from this instant, do build oa thoc a better 
 opinion timn ever before. Give me thy hand, Ro- 
 de ri;i:o : Thou hast taken against me a most ju3t 
 exee|itirtn ; but yet, I protest, I have dealt riiost 
 directly in thy ailair. 
 
 Jloif. It hath not appeared. 
 
 la^n. 1 grant, indet-d, it hath not appeared; and 
 your RUKpicion i^; not witfiout wit and ind;;ment. 
 Uut, Roderifio.if tiiou hast that withiTi ihee indeed, 
 which I have greater reason to beh'eve now than 
 ever, — I mean, purpose, eourage, and valor, — this 
 ni;;ht sliow it: if thou the next night following 
 enjoyeMt not Desdeniona, take me from this world 
 with treachery, and devise engines for my life. 
 
 Jio.l. Well, what is it^ is it within reason, and 
 compass ] 
 
 It/go. Sir, there is especial commission come 
 from Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place. 
 
 Ro'i. Is that true! why, then Othello and Des- 
 deniona return again to Venice. 
 
 IdRo. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes 
 away with him the fair Desdernona. unless liis 
 abode be lingered here byHomc accident: wherein 
 none can be so determinate, as the removing of 
 Cassio. 
 
 Ro'f. How do ynu mean — removing of him 1 
 
 Idfxn. Why, by makmg him uncapalile of Othello's 
 place; knocking out his brains. 
 
 Rod. And that you would liave me do? 
 
 J(m:(i. Ay; if you dafe do yourself a profit and 
 a right. He sups to-night with a harlot, and 
 thifht^r will I go to him ; — he knows not yet of his 
 honorable fortune: if you will walch liis going 
 thence, (which I will fashion to fall out between 
 twelve and one.) you may take him at your ple.T- 
 sure; I will be near to second your attempt, and 
 he slinii fall between us. Come, stand not amazed 
 at it. but go along with me ; I will show you such 
 a necessity in his death, that you shall think your- 
 self bound to put it on him. It is now high supper- 
 time, and the night grows to waste; about it. 
 
 Rod. I will hear further reason for this. 
 
 /ago. And you shall be satisfied. \_ExeU7iU 
 
 SCENE in.— Another Room in the Ca.sfle. 
 
 Enter Othello, Lodovico. Desdemona, Emilia, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no 
 further. 
 
 0/A. O. pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. 
 
 Lod. Madam, good-night; I humbly thank your 
 iadysliip. 
 
 Dr.s. Your honor is most welcome. 
 
 01 h. Will you walk, sir?— 
 
 0, — Desdemona, 
 
 J>.?. My lord ? 
 
 Olh. Get you to bed on the instant, I will be re- 
 turned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there; 
 look, it be done. 
 
 Des. I will, my lord. 
 
 [Kxeunf, 0th., Lod., and Attendants. 
 
 EniiL How goes it now? he looks gentler than 
 he did. 
 
 Dcs, Fie says he will return incontinent;* 
 He bath commanded me to go to bed, 
 And bade me to dismiss you. 
 
 JCmif. Dismiss me! 
 
 hes. It was his bidding; tlierefore. good Emilia, 
 Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu : 
 We must not now displease him. 
 
 Emit. I would you had never seen him \ 
 
 Des. So would not I ; my love doth so approve 
 iiim, 
 That even his stubbornness, his checks, and 
 
 frowns, — 
 Pr'ythee. unpin me. — have grace and favor in them. 
 
 ilmlL I have laid those sheets you bade me on 
 the bed. 
 
 Des. All's one: — Good father! how foolish are 
 our minds ! — 
 If I do die belbre thee, pr'ythec, shroud me 
 In one of those same sheets. 
 
 Kiiiit. Come, come, you talk. 
 
 Dfs. My mnthor had a maid calTd— Uarbara; 
 Shr w;is in luvc ; and he, shi? lov'd, proved mad,'' 
 And did forsake lu-r: sjie had a song of— willow, 
 An (lid thing 'twas, but it express 'd her fortune, 
 And slic died singing it: That song, to-night, 
 
 * ImuK'diately. b Vi\\<\, inconstant. 
 
 Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do, 
 
 But to go hang my head all at one side, 
 
 And sing it. like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, despatch. 
 
 Einil, Sliall I go fetch your night-gown 1 
 
 Des. No, unpin me here.— 
 
 This Lodovico is a proper man. 
 
 Emit. A very handsome man. 
 
 Des. And he speaks well. 
 
 Etiiil. I know a lady in Venice, who would ha^e 
 walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch ef his 
 nether lip. 
 
 I. 
 
 Des. The poor soul sat sighin;^ by a sycamore-trep.f 
 Sing nil a green ivillow ; [Singing 
 
 Her hand on her husftm, her head on her knee, 
 
 Sing it'i/low, willtiiv, ivillow : 
 The fresh streams ran by her, and murmured her 
 moans ; 
 Sing wilUno, See. 
 Her .^alt tears fell from her, and soften'^d ihestmxeSy 
 Lay by these : — 
 
 Sing willow, ivilloiu, ivillow ; 
 Pr'ythee. hie thee; heMl come anon.^ 
 
 Sing all a green willow, must be my garland, 
 
 n. 
 
 Let nnhody blame him, hl^ seorn I approve, — 
 Nay, that's not next. — Hark! who is it that knot^ka I 
 Emit. It is the wind. 
 
 Des. 1 caWd my love, false love; but wfuJ said 
 he then ? 
 Sing ivilloiv, iS-c. 
 If I court mffi women, ynit'll coueh with 'fi') men. 
 
 So, get thee gone ; good-night. Mine eyvs do itch ; 
 Doth that bode weeping? 
 
 Emit. 'Tis neither I i'^c nor there. 
 
 Dei: I have heard it said so-— u, U.cae men, 
 these men ! — 
 Dost thou in conscience think,— t i me, Emilia, — 
 That there he women do abuse t> it .'iUs'jands 
 In such gross kind ? 
 
 Emil. There be som*. M-.ch, no question. 
 
 Des. Wouldst thou do suci'i t 'Jeed for all the 
 world ? 
 
 Emil. Why, would not you "^ 
 
 Des. No, V * '.' is heavenly light! 
 
 Emit. Nor I neither by « if Leavenly light; 
 I might do't as well i' thi* -.vK. 
 
 Des. Wouldst thou do /jc'i a deed for all the 
 world ? 
 
 £m(7. The world is all ^-,c thing: *tis a great price 
 For a small vice. 
 
 Des. Good troth. 1 t\ *^k thou wouldst not. 
 
 Emil. By my troth, i j./uk I should ; and undo't, 
 when 1 had done. Mai ry,l would not do such a thing 
 for a joint-ring; nor for measures of lawi. ; nor f- c 
 gowns, petticoats, nor ca|>s, nor any pe'.ty ext)'.>» 
 tjon: hut Ibr the whole world. — Why. who " ji'Id 
 not make her husband a cuckold, t« ma'.*" nj'n a 
 monarch ! I sliould venture purgatory fo t 
 
 Des. Bcshrew me, if 1 would do duch a wrong 
 for the whole world. 
 
 E/nil. Why, the wrong is but n » ^^ng i' the 
 world: and, having the world for y-' / .abor, 'tis a 
 wrong in your own world, and jo',. Miay quickly 
 make it right. 
 
 Des. I do not think there is any 6'ich woman. 
 
 Emit. Yes, a dozen ; and as m? // 
 To the vantage, as would stor-i the world they 
 
 playM for. 
 But, I do think, it is their busbards' faults, 
 If wives do tall: Say, that they 'Jack their duties, 
 And pour our treasures into foreign laps; 
 Or else break out in peevish jejJousies, 
 Throwing restraint upon us ; or, say they strike us. 
 Or scant our former having' in despite; 
 Why, we have galls; and, though we have some 
 
 grace, 
 Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know 
 Their wives have sense'* like (hem: they sec, and 
 
 smell. 
 And have their palates both for sweet and sour, 
 As liusbands have. What is it that they do, 
 
 6 ^lo, f(>r more. 
 
 ■> Uur tbrmer allowance of expense. 
 
 • Sensation. 
 
Act V. Scene I. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 771 
 
 When they change us for others'! Is it sport! 
 I ttiink it is; And doth allcction breed it! 
 
 I think it dolh; Is't frailly, that thns errs] 
 
 II is so too ; And have not wc afloctions ? 
 Desires for sport 1 and frailty, as men have? 
 
 Then. let tlieni nse us well : else let them know. 
 Tile ills we do, their ills instruct us to. 
 Des. Good-night, good-night: Heaven me such 
 usage send. 
 Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— A S/reef. 
 Enter Iago and Roderigo. 
 lago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will 
 he come : 
 Wear thy ^ood rapier bare,9 and put it home ; 
 Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow; 
 It makes us. or it mars us; think on that, 
 And fix most lirni thy resolution. 
 Rod. Be near at hand; 1 may miscarry in*t. 
 la^o. Here, at thy hand; be bold, and take thy 
 sword. [Retires to a fiftl^ distance^ 
 
 Rod. I have no great devotion to tlie deed; 
 And yet he has given me satisfying reasons:— 
 'Tis but a man gone : — tbrth, my sword ; he dies. 
 [Goes to Aw stand. 
 Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to 
 the sense,' 
 And he grows angry. Now, whether he killCassio, 
 Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other. 
 Every way makes my gain: Live Roderigo, 
 He calls me to a restitution large 
 Of gold, and jewels, that I bobbM- from him. 
 As girts to Desdemona ; 
 It must not be : if Cassio do remain, 
 He hath a daily beauty in his lile, 
 That makes me ugly ; and, besides, the Moor 
 May unfold me to'liim; there stand I in much 
 
 peril : 
 No, he must die: — But so, I hear him coming. 
 Enter Cassio. 
 Rod. I know liis gait. 'tis ho;— Villain, thou diest, 
 [Rushes from his post, and makes a pass 
 at Cassio. 
 Cos, Timt thrust had been mine enemy indeed, 
 But that my coat is better than thou think'st; 
 I will make proof of thine. 
 
 [Draws, and wounds Roderigo. 
 Rod. (), I am slain! 
 
 [Iago rashes frimi his post, cuts Cassio be- 
 hind in the Lcf;, and Exit. 
 Cas. I am maim'd lor ever: — Help, ho! murder! 
 murder! [Falls. 
 
 Enter Otheixo, at a distance. 
 0th. The voice of Cassio: — Iago keeps Iiis word. 
 Rod, 0, villain that 1 am ! 
 0th. Hark ! 'tis even so. 
 
 Va.s. O. help! ho! light! a surgeon! 
 0th. 'Tis he;— brave Iago, honest, and just. 
 That hath such noble sense of thy friend^s wrong! 
 Thou teaciiest nie. — Minion, your dear lies dead. 
 And your late hies apace : — Strumpet. I come: 
 Forlh^ of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are 
 
 blotted ; 
 Thy bed, lust-stainM, shall with lust's hlood be 
 spotted. [Exit Othei.lo. 
 
 Enter LoDovico and Guatiako, at a distance. 
 Cas. What, ho! no watch] no passage?-* mur- 
 der ! murder I 
 Gra. 'Tis some mischanoe; thecry is very direful. 
 Cas. 0, help I 
 lad. Hark I 
 
 Rod. wretched villain ! 
 
 Lod. Two or three groans;— it is a heavys night: 
 These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe 
 To come m to the cry. without more help. 
 Rod, Nobody eome 1 then shall 1 bleed to death. 
 
 Enter Iago, ivith a Litrht. 
 iMd. Hark ! 
 Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light 
 
 and weapons. 
 Iago. Who's there! whose noise is this, that 
 cries on murder"! 
 
 • Unsheathed. * To the quick. « Fished. 
 
 * Out. « No passengers. • Thick, cloudy. 
 
 Lod. We do not know. 
 
 Iago. Did you not hear a cry \ 
 
 Cas. Here, here; for heaven-s sake. Iielp me. 
 
 Iago. What's the matter i 
 
 Gra, This is Othello's ancient, as I take it. 
 
 Lod. The same, indeed; a very valiant fellow. 
 
 iago. What are you here that cry so grievously ? 
 
 Cas. Iago ! 0, 1 am spoil'd, undone by villains ! 
 Give me some help. 
 
 Iago. O me, lieutenant! what villains have done 
 this? 
 
 Cas. I tliink, that one of them is hereabout, 
 And cannot make away. 
 
 Iago. treacherous villains !^ 
 
 What, are you there? come in, and give some help. 
 
 [To LoDOVico and Gratiano. 
 
 Rod. O, help me here ! 
 
 Cas. That's one of tlicm. 
 
 logo. O murderous slave! villain ! 
 
 [Iago stabs Rodeuigo. 
 
 Rod. O damiTd Iago ! inhuman dog ! — 
 O : O ! O ! 
 
 Iago. Kill men i' the dark! — Where be these 
 bloody thieves \ 
 How silent is this town ! — Ho! murder! murder! 
 What may you he] are you of good, or evil ! 
 
 Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us. 
 
 Jago. Signior Lodovico? 
 
 Ij)d. He, sir. 
 
 Iago. I cry you mercy; Here's Cassio hurt 
 
 By villains. 
 
 (ira. Cassio ! 
 
 logo. How is it, brother ? 
 
 Cas. ATy leg is cut in two. 
 
 Iago. Marry, heaven f<u'bid I — 
 
 Light, gentlemen ; Til bind it vvith my sliirL 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Bw/n. What is the matter, ho ] who is't that cry'd ? 
 
 Iago. Who is't that cry'd ! 
 
 Bian. O my dear Cassio ! my sweet Cassio ! 
 Cassio ! Cassio ! Cassio ! 
 
 logo. O notable strumpet! — Cassio, may you 
 suspect 
 Who they should be, that have thus mangled you"! 
 
 Cas. No. 
 
 Gra. I am sorry to find you thus: I have been 
 to seek you. 
 
 Togo. Lend me a garter: So.— O, for a chair, 
 To bear him easily hence I 
 
 Bian. Alas, he hunts: — O Cassio ! Cassio! Cassio! 
 
 Iago. Gentlonien all, I do suspect this trash 
 To be a party in this injury. — 
 Patience a wiiile, good Cassio. — Come, eome; 
 Lend me a light. — Know we this face, or no ] 
 Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman, 
 Roderigo"] no: — Yes. sure; O heaven! Roderigo. 
 
 Gra. What, of Venice] 
 
 Iago. Even he, sir; did j'ou know him] 
 
 Gra. Know him] ay. 
 
 Iago, Signior Gratiano] I rry you gentle par- 
 don ; 
 These bloody accidents must excuse my manneis, 
 That so neglected you. 
 
 Gra. I am glad to see you- 
 
 Iago. How do you, Cassio]— 0, a chair, a chair ! 
 
 Gra. Roderigo ! 
 
 Iago. He, he, 'tis he: — 0, that's well snhl;— 
 the chair: — [A Chair brought in. 
 
 Some good man bear him carefully from hence; 
 I'll fetcll the gencral'iS surgeon.— For you, mistress, 
 
 [To Bianca. 
 Save you your labor. — He that lies slain here, 
 
 Cassio, 
 Was my dear friend: What malice was between 
 you ] 
 
 Cas. None in the world ; nor do I know the man. 
 
•72 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act V 
 
 lago. [To BiAN.I What, look you pale 7 — 0, bear 
 him out 0^ the air. — 
 
 [Cassio and Rod. are bnrne off". 
 Stay you, g:ood gentlemen: — Look you p^le, mis- 
 tress f 
 Do you perceive the ghastness of her eye ?— 
 Nay, if you stare, we siiall Iiear more anon; — 
 Behold iher well; I pray you, look upon her; 
 Bo you see, gentlemen? liay, guiltiness will speak, 
 Though tongues were out ol use. 
 
 Enter Kmilia. 
 Emil. 'Las, whafs the matter; what's the mat- 
 ter, husband? 
 I(f^o. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark, 
 By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'seapM; 
 He's almost slain, and Roderi?:o dead. 
 Emit. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! 
 Jago. This is the fruit of whoring. — Pr'ythee, 
 Emilia, 
 Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night:— • 
 VViiat, do you shake at tiiat ? 
 Bian. lie suppM at my house; but I therefore 
 
 shake not. 
 Iftgn. O. did he so? I charge 3'ou go with me. 
 Emil. Fye, fye upon thee, strumjiet! 
 Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest, 
 As you that thus abuse me. 
 
 Emit, As I? foh? fye upon thee! 
 
 Ja^o. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio 
 dressM : — 
 Come, mistress, you must tell us another talc. — 
 Kmiiia. run you'to the citadel. 
 And tell my lord and Indy what has happM. — 
 Will you go on, I pray !— Tliis is the night, 
 
 {Aside. 
 That either makes me, or fordoes^ me quite. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IL — A Bed-chamhcr: Desi>emona in Bed 
 asleep. A Li^lit burning. 
 Enter Othello. 
 Of/i. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — 
 Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars !^ 
 It is the cause. — Yet Til notshed her blood ; 
 Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 
 And smooth as monumental nlaliaster. 
 
 [Tail eft off ti.i.s Sivord. 
 Yet she must die, else she"'!! betray uii)re men. 
 Put out the light, and then put out the ligfit:' 
 If I quench thee, thou tlaming minister, 
 1 can again thy former light restore. 
 Should I repent me: — hut once put out thine, 
 Thou cuiMung'st pattern of excelling nature, 
 I know not where is that Promethean lieat 
 Tliut can thy light relume. When I have ]filuck'd 
 
 thy rose, 
 I cannot give it vital growth again, 
 It needs must wither:— ril smell it on the tree. 
 
 [Ki.fsing tier. 
 
 balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
 Justice to break her sword ! — One more, one more. — 
 Re thus when thou art dead, and 1 will kill thee. 
 And love thee aJler: — One more, and this the last: 
 So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
 
 Rut they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly; 
 It strikes, where it doth love. — She wakes — 
 
 Df.T. Who's there .' Oihello? 
 
 0th. Ay, Desdemona. 
 
 J)es. Will you come to bed, my lord ? 
 
 01 li. Have you prayM to-night, Desdemona? 
 
 Drs. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Oik. If you belhifik yourself of any crime, 
 Unreconcded as yet to heaven and grace, 
 Solicit for it straight. 
 
 i>.T. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by thnt? 
 
 Offi. Well, do it, and be brief;" I will walk by ; 
 
 1 would not kiil thy unprepared spirit ; 
 
 No. — Heaven forfend !^ — I would not kill thy soul. 
 
 Des, Talk you of killing? 
 
 Otfi. Ay, I do. 
 
 Deft. Tlien heaven 
 
 Have morcy on me ! 
 
 OM. Amen, with all my heart! 
 
 • Undoes. 
 
 I i. p. TheliKhtofIif<\ 
 
 This is tlio punctuiitimi of thcPilloof ir,23. and of Pope, 
 Stevens. Ac. Itut some I'ditorp jmiiit it thup; — 
 
 Put out 1 he Uijht, and tbuu : Put out tho li^ht : 
 
 « Furbid 
 
 Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. 
 
 0th. Hiimph! 
 
 Den, And yet I fear you : for you are fatal then, 
 Wlien your eyes roll so: Why Ishouldfear, I know 
 
 not, 
 Since guiltiuess I know not; but yet, I feel, I fear 
 
 Otti. Thinii on thy sins. 
 
 jOt'.f. They are loves I bear to you. 
 
 0th. Ay, and for that tllou diest. 
 
 Des. Thatdeath^s unnatural, that kills forloving.— 
 Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lij) ? 
 Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: 
 These are portents; but yet, 1 hope, I hope, 
 They do not point on me. 
 
 Otii. Peace, and be still ! 
 
 Des. I will so: AVhat's the matter? 
 
 Otti. That handkerchief which I .so lov'd and 
 gave thee. 
 Thou gav'st to Cassio. 
 
 Des. No, by my life and soul; 
 
 Send for the man and ask him. 
 
 Oth. Sweet soul, take heed, 
 
 Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy death-bed. 
 
 Des, Ay, but not yet to die. 
 
 Oth. Yes, presently: 
 
 Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin ; 
 For to deny each article with oath, 
 Cannot remove, nor choke, the strong conception 
 Tiiat I do groan withal. Thou art to die. 
 
 Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me ! 
 
 Oth. I say, amen. 
 
 Des. And have you mercy too! — I never did 
 Olicnd you in my life; never lovM Cassio, 
 Rut with such general warranty of heaven 
 As I might love: I never gave him token. 
 
 Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his 
 hand. 
 
 perjurM woman! thou dost stone my heart, 
 And mak'sl me call what I intend to do, — 
 
 A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: 
 
 1 saw the handkerchief. 
 
 Des. He found it then; 
 
 I never gave it him: — Send for him hitlicr, 
 Let hmi conless a truth. 
 
 Otti. He hath confess'd. 
 
 Des. What, my lord ? 
 
 Oth. That he hath— used thee. 
 
 Des. How? unlawfully? 
 
 Oth. Ay. 
 
 Des. We'll not say so. 
 
 Oth. No, his mouth is stopped; 
 
 Honest lago hath taVn order for't. 
 
 Drs. I\Iy lear interprets then. — What, is he dead? 
 
 0/A.Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge 
 Had stomach for them all. 
 
 Des. Alas! he is betray'd, and I undone. 
 
 Oth. Out, strumpet! "Weep'st thou for him to 
 my face ? 
 
 Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not. 
 
 Oth. Down, strumpet ! 
 
 Des. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night. 
 
 Oth. Nay, if you strive, 
 
 Des. But half an hour. 
 
 Oth. Being done, 
 
 There is no pause. 
 
 Des. But while T say one prnyer. 
 
 Oth. It is too late. [lie .•^motliers 'tier, 
 
 Ei/iil. [Within.] My lord, my lord! what ho! 
 my lord ! my lord ! 
 
 Oth. What noise is this? — Not dead! not yet 
 quite dead ? 
 I, that am cruel, am yet merciful; 
 1 would not have thee linger in thy pain.-— 
 So. so. 
 
 Emil. [ Wittiin.'] What ho! my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Oth. ' Who''s there? 
 
 Emil. [ Within.'] O. good my lord, I would speak 
 a word with you. 
 
 Oth. Yes; — 'tis Emilia: — by-and-hy. — She's dead. 
 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death: 
 The noise was high. — Ha ! no more moving ? 
 Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't 
 
 good ? 
 1 think, she stirs again:— No. — What's the best? 
 If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife: 
 My wife ! my wife ! what wife?— I have no wife : 
 O. insupportable ! heavy hour ! 
 Metliinks it should be now a huge eclipse 
 Of sun and moon ; and that the aflrighted globe 
 Should yawn at alteration. 
 
Scene IT. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 773 
 
 Eiuil. I IVithin.] I do beseech you I may fepeak 
 Willi you. 
 0, g^ood my loid ! 
 
 Of!t. I had forgot thee: O.corae in, Emilia:— 
 S„ft,_l,y-;iiid-bv :— Let mc the curtains draw.— 
 Where art thou ? Wliat's the matter with tliee now 1 
 [ Unlocks Ike door. 
 
 Enter Emilia. 
 
 Em U. O, ffood my lord, yonder's foul murder done. 
 01 li. Wliatl now! 
 
 Emil. But now, my lord. 
 
 Otk. It is the very error of the moon; 
 She comes more near tlie cartli than she was wont ; 
 And makes men mad. 
 Emil. Cassio, my lord, hifs kiU'd a young Vene- 
 tian, 
 CalI'd— Roderigo. 
 
 Oik. Roderigo kilPd! 
 
 And Cassio kill'd ! 
 Emil. No, Cassio is not kill'd. 
 
 0th. Not Cassio kill'd ! tlicn murder's out of tune, 
 And sweet revenge grows harsh. 
 Des. O, falsely, lalsoly murder'd ! 
 Emil. Alas, what cry is that ! 
 
 Otk. That! what? 
 
 EmiJ. (Jut, and alas! that was my lady's voice- 
 Help! help, ho! help!— O lady, speak again! 
 Sweet Desdemona! O, sweet mistress, speak! 
 De.s. A guiltless death I die. 
 Em it. O, who hath done 
 
 This deed 1 
 
 Des. Nobody; I myself; farewell: 
 
 Commend me to my'kind lord; (), farewell. [Die.v. 
 Oik. \Vhy, how should she be murder'd 1 
 Emit. Alas, wiio knows ! 
 
 Olh. You heard her say herself, it was not I. 
 Emil She said so, I must needs report the truth. 
 Oik. She's like a liar, gone to burning hell ; 
 'Twas I that kill'd her. 
 
 Emil. O, the more angel she, 
 
 And you the blacker devil ! 
 
 Oik. .She turn'd to lolly, and she was a whore. 
 Emit. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil! 
 Olh. She was liilse as water. 
 Emil. Thou art rash as lire, to say 
 
 That she was false ; O, she was heavenly true ! 
 
 Oik. Cassio did tap her; ask thy husband else. 
 O, I were damn'd heneath all depth in hell. 
 But that I did proceed upon just grounds 
 To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. 
 Emil. My husband ! 
 Otk. Thy husband. 
 Emil. That she was false to wedlock? 
 Otk. Ay, with Cassio. 
 
 Nay, had she been true. 
 
 If heaven would make me such another world 
 Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,' 
 I'd not have sold her for it. 
 Emil. My liusband! 
 
 Otk. Ay, 'twas he that told me first: 
 
 An honest man he is, and hates the slime 
 Tliat sticks on filthy deeds. 
 Emil. My husband? 
 
 Otk. What needs this iterance,' woman! I say, 
 
 thy husband. 
 Emil. O mistress, viUany hath made mocks with 
 love ! — 
 My husband say that she was false ! 
 
 Olh. He, woman ; 
 
 I say, thy husband : Dost understand the word ! 
 My friend, thy husband, honest, honest lago. 
 Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul 
 Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart ; 
 She was too fond of tier most filthy bargain. 
 Otk. Ha! 
 
 Emit. Do thy worst: 
 
 This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven, 
 Than thou wast worthy her. 
 
 Oik. Peace, you were best. 
 
 Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me 
 harm, 
 As I have to be hurt.2 O gull ! dolt ! 
 As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed, — 
 I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known. 
 Though Host twenty lives: — Help! help, ho! help! 
 The Moor has kill'd my mistress; Murder! murder ! 
 
 * Repetition. 
 
 Enter Montaxo, Gratiaxo, and Iauo. 
 
 Mnn. What is the nialter!— How now, general ? 
 
 E7itil. 0,are you come, lago ! you have done well, 
 Tliat men must lay their murders on your neck. 
 
 Gz-ff. What is the matter! 
 
 Emit. Disprove this villain, if thou be st a man. 
 He says, thou told'st him that his wile was liilse : 
 1 know, thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain: 
 Speak, for mv heart is full, 
 
 lago. I told him what I thought; and told no 
 more 
 Than what he found himself was apt and true, 
 
 Emil. But did you ever tell him she was false ? 
 
 lago. I did. 
 
 Emit. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie; 
 Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie: — 
 She false with Cassio!— Did you say with Cassio? 
 
 logo. With Cassio, mistress; Go to, charm your 
 tongue. 
 
 Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound 
 to siieak ; 
 My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed. 
 
 Att.O heavens Ibrfcnd!^ 
 
 El/lit. And your reports have set the murder on. 
 
 Otk. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed. 
 
 Gra. 'Tis a strange truth. 
 
 Miin. O monstrous act ! 
 
 Emil. Villany, villany, villany ! — 
 
 I think upon't, — I think,— I smell't;— O villany! — 
 I thought so then ;— I'll kill myself for grief.— 
 
 villany, villany ! 
 
 lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you 
 
 llOllU". 
 
 Emil. (lood gentlemen, let me have leave to 
 speak : 
 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now: — 
 Perchance, lago, 1 will ne'er go home, 
 
 Otk. O I ! C) ! [Hanging over hi.i tvife. 
 
 Emit. Nay, lay thee down and roar; 
 
 For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent 
 Thai e'er did litl up eye. 
 
 Otk. 0, she was foul ! — 
 
 [Hiiing. 
 
 1 scarce did know you, uncle: There lies your niece. 
 Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly 
 
 stopjvd : 
 
 I know this act shows horrible and grini. 
 Poor I " ■ " ■ ■ 
 
 dead ; 
 
 Cru. Poor Desdemona ! I am glad 
 
 ^^y 
 
 father's 
 
 8 A precious stone. 
 
 » " Mjrc can I bear Uian you dare execute 
 
 Thy match w,is mort.al to him, and pure grief 
 Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now. 
 This sight would make him do a desjierate turn, 
 Yen, curse his beller angel from his side, 
 And fall to reprobation, 
 
 Otk. 'Tis pitiful: but vet lago knows. 
 That slie with Cassio liatli llie act of shame 
 A thousand limes eommitled : Cassio confess'd it; 
 And she did gratily his amorous works 
 With tliat recognisance and pledge of love 
 Which 1 first gave her; I saw it in his hand; 
 It was a handkercliief, an antique token 
 My father gave my mother. 
 
 Emit. O heaven ! O heavenly powers ! 
 
 lago. Come, hold }our peace. 
 
 Emit. 'Twill out, 'twill out;— I liold my peace, 
 sir! no; 
 No, I will speak as liberaP as the air; 
 Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all. 
 All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. 
 
 lago. lie wise, and get you home. 
 
 Emil. 'I will not. 
 
 [Iago offers to stab his wife. 
 
 Gra. I'yc ! 
 
 Y'our sword upon a woman ? 
 
 Emil.O Ihou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou 
 speak'st of, 
 I found by fortune, and did give my husband; 
 For olten, with a solemn earnestness, 
 (More than, indeed, belong'd to suchfl trifle,) 
 He begg'd of me to steal it. 
 
 Iago. Villanoue whore ! 
 
 Emit. She give it Cassio ! no, alas; I found it, 
 And I did give't my husband. 
 
 Iago. Filth, thou liest. 
 
 Emil. By heaven, I do not: I do not, gentlemen. 
 O murd'rous coxcomb ! what should such a Ibol 
 Do with so good a wife ? 
 
 [Iago slabs Emilia, then runs out. 
 
 » Forbid, * Free. 
 
774 
 
 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. Act V. Scene II. 
 
 Glh. Are there no stones in heaven, 
 
 Butwhataerve for the thunder'? — Precious villain! 
 
 Gru. The woman falls! sure, hehaskiU'dhis witie. 
 
 Etiiil. Ay, ay : 0, lay me by mv niistress' side ! 
 
 iira. Hp^s gone, but his wife's kilPd. 
 
 Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this 
 weapon. 
 Which I have here recovered from the Moor: 
 Come, truard the door without; let him not pasSj, 
 Jiut kill him rather; Til after that same villain, 
 Kor 'tis a damned slave. 
 
 [Exeunt Montaxo and Gratiano. 
 
 0th. 1 am not valiant neither, 
 
 Hut every puny whipster gets my .sword : — 
 Jkit why should honor outlive honesty 1 
 Let it go all. 
 
 Eniil. What did thy song bode, lady? 
 
 Hark, canst thou Jiear mef I will play the swan, 
 And die in music; — IVilhiw, willow, widow. — 
 Moor, she was chaste; she lovM thee, cruel Moor; 
 So come n»y soul to bliss, as I speak true ; 
 So speaking as 1 tiiink, I die,— 1 die. [Dies. 
 
 0th. I have another weapon in this chamber, 
 It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper;^ — 
 0. here it is: — Uncle, I must come fortli, 
 
 Grtf. [JVilhiTi.] If thou attempt it, it will cost 
 thee dear; 
 Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. 
 
 0/h. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, 
 Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. 
 Re-enter Guatiano. 
 
 Cth. What is tiie matter? 
 
 0th. Itchold ! I have a weapon; 
 
 A better never did itself sustain 
 Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day. 
 That, with this little arm, and this good sword, 
 I have made my way Ihrough more impediments 
 Than twenty times your stop: — But, vain boast! 
 Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. — 
 Be not afraid, though you do see me wcapon'd; 
 ]Iere is my journey's end, here is my butt, 
 And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
 Do you go back dismay'd ? 'tis a lost fear ; 
 Man but a rush against Othello's breast, 
 And he retires; — W/ierc should Othello go?— 
 Now, how dost thou look now? ill-starr'd 
 
 wench ! 
 Pale as thy smock! when w-e shall meet atcompt,^ 
 Tills look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
 And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl? 
 Even like thy chaslily. — 
 O cursed, cursed slave ! — Whip me, ye devils, 
 From the possession of this Iieavenly sight ! 
 Blow me about in winds ! roast mc in sulphur! 
 Wash me in steep-down gulls of liquid tire ! — 
 (tDesdemona! Desdemona! dead? 
 Dead ? O ! O ! ! 
 
 Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a 
 Chair, and Oflicers, tiJiM Iago p7-i&oner. 
 
 Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate 
 man? 
 
 Ofh. That's he, that was Otiiello ; here I am. 
 
 I>m/. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. 
 
 Otfi. I look down towards his feet;'' — but that's a 
 fable: 
 If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. 
 
 [Othkllo wounds Iago. 
 
 Lod. Wrench his sword from him. 
 
 It'fi:o. 1 bleed, sir; but not kilPd. 
 
 0//i. I am not sorry neitlicr; I'd have thee live ; 
 For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die, 
 
 Lod. O thou Otiiello, that was once so good, 
 Fall'n in tlie practice^ of a cursed slave, 
 AVhat shall be said to thee? 
 
 Oth. Why, any thing: 
 
 An houorable murderer, if you will; 
 For nau:,'ht 1 did in hate, but all in honor. 
 
 f.od. This wretch hath part confess'd hisvillany : 
 Did vou and he consent in Cassio's deatli ? 
 
 Ot/i. Ay. 
 
 Oas. Dear general, I never gave you cause, 
 
 » stud is hardeuud by being put rod-hot iuto very cold 
 unter. 
 « Account. ' To soo if his fyct be doven. ■ Stratagem. 
 
 Ofh. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. 
 Will you. I pray, demand that dcnii-devil. 
 Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body? 
 
 logo. Demand me nothing; What you know, you 
 know : 
 From this time forth, I never will speak word. 
 
 Lod. What! not to pray? 
 
 Gra. Torments will ope your lips. 
 
 0/h. Well, thou dost best. 
 
 Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befalPn, 
 Which, as I think, you know not: Plere is a letter, 
 Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo ; 
 And here, another: the one of them imports 
 The deatfi of Cassio to be undertook 
 By Roderigo. 
 
 0th. villain ! 
 
 Cc.*?. Most heathenish, and most gross ! 
 
 Lod. Now here's another discontented paper, 
 Found in his pocket too: and this, it seems, 
 Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain. 
 But that, belike, lago in the interim 
 Came in and satisfied him. 
 
 0th. the pernicious caitiff! 
 
 How came i;ou, Cassio, by that handkerchief 
 That was my wife's? 
 
 Cas. I found it in my chamber: 
 
 And he himself confess'd, but even now. 
 That there he dropjTd it for a special purpose, 
 WJiich wrought to his desire. 
 
 Ofh. O fool ! fool ! fool ! 
 
 Cas. There is besides, in Roderigo's letter,— 
 How lie upbraids lago, that he made him 
 Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came 
 Tiiat I was cast: And even but now lie spake, 
 Alter long seeming dead,— lago hurt him, 
 lago set him on. 
 
 Led. You must forsake this room and go with us 
 Your power and your command is taken off. 
 And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, — 
 If there be any cumiihg crnelty. 
 That can torment him much, and liold him long, 
 It shall be his: You shall close prisoner rest, 
 Till that the nature of your fault he known- 
 To the Venetian state: Come, bring away. 
 
 0th. Soft you; a word or two before you go. 
 I have done the state some service.and they know it; 
 No more of that: — I pray you, in your letters, 
 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
 Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate. 
 Nor set down auglit in malice: then must you 
 
 speak 
 Of one, that lovM not wisely, but too well ; 
 Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 
 Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand, 
 Like the base Jfidean, threw a pearl away, 
 Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdued 
 
 eyes, 
 Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
 Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
 Their medicinal gum: Set you down this: 
 And say, besides, — That in Aleppo once, 
 Where a malitcnant and a turban'd Turk 
 Beat a Venetian, and traduced the state, 
 I took by the throat the circumcised dog. 
 And smote him— thus, [Stabs himself. 
 
 Lod. O bloody period ! 
 
 Ora. All, that's spoke, is marr'd. 
 
 0th. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee ;— No way but 
 
 this, [Fatting upon Desdkmona. 
 
 Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Vies. 
 
 Cos. This did I fear, but thought he had no 
 weapon : 
 For he was great of heart. 
 
 Lod. Spartan dog. 
 
 More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea ! 
 Look on the tragic loading of this bed; [To Iago, 
 This is thy work : the object poisons sight; — 
 Let it be hid. — Gratiano, keep the house. 
 And seize upon the fortunes of the ]\Ioor, 
 For they succeed to you. — To you. lord governor, 
 Remains the censure of this hellish villain; 
 Tiie time, the place, the torture,— O enforce it! 
 Myself will straight abroad; and, to the state. 
 This heavy act with heavy heart relate. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
POEMS. 
 
 TO THE EIGHT HONOKABLE HENRY WPJOTHESLY, 
 
 Eakl of Socthajiptox, axd Baron of Titchfield. 
 
 Right Hoxokable, 
 
 I KNOW not how I shall odcnd in dedicating my unpolished lines to your Lordship, nor how 
 the world will censure me ibr choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burthen: only if j'our 
 lionor seem but pleased, I account myself higlily praised, and vow to take advaniageof all idle hours, 
 till I have honored you with some graver labor. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, 
 I shall be sorry it had so noble a godliither, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me 
 BtiU so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honorable survey, and your honor to jour heart's content, 
 which I wish may always answer your own wish, and the world's hopeful expectation. 
 
 Your Honor's in all duty, 
 
 William Shaespeare. 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 Vilia Diiretur TulgUB mibi flavus Apnllo 
 Poculo Castalia plena ministrat aqua. — Ovid. 
 
 Even as tho sun with purple-colorVl face 
 Had taVn his last leave oJthe weeping; morn, 
 Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to tiie chase : 
 Hunting he loved, hut love he laugh'd to scorn ; 
 Sick-thou{;hted Venus makes amain unto him. 
 And like a bold-faced suitor 'f;ins to woo liim. 
 
 Thrice fairer than myself, (thus she be;;an.) 
 The tield's chief llower, sweet above compare. 
 Stain to all nyiuphs. more lovely tlian a man, 
 More wliite and red Ihan doves or roses are; 
 Nature that ninde tJiee, with herself at strilc, 
 Saith that the world hath ending with lliy hfe. 
 
 Vouchsafe, Ihou wonder, to a!is;ht thy steetl, 
 And reijirn his proud head to tlio saddle-how; 
 If thou wilt deifiu this favor. Ii»r Ihy meed 
 A thousand honey-secrets slialt thou know: 
 Here come and sit, where serpent never liisscs. 
 And, bein^ set, Til smother thee with kisses: 
 
 And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety, 
 
 But rather Jiimish them amid tlieir plenty. 
 
 Making them red and pale with Iresh variety; 
 
 Ten kisses short as one. one lorn: as twenty": 
 A summer's day will seem an hour but short, 
 Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport. 
 
 With this, she seizeth on his sweating palm, 
 The precedent of pith and livelihood. 
 And, trembling in her jiassion, calls it balm. 
 Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good: 
 Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force 
 Courageously to pluck him from his horse. 
 
 Over one arm the lusty courser's rein, 
 
 Under hor other was the tender boy. 
 
 Who bUish'd and pouted in a dull disdain, 
 
 With leaden ajipetite, unapt to toy ; 
 She red and hot as coals of glowing fire, 
 He Ted for shame, but frosty in desire. 
 
 The studded birdie on a ragged bough 
 
 Nimbly she fastens; (O hovvquick is love !) 
 
 The steed is stalled up, and even now 
 
 To tie the rider she begins to prove: 
 Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, 
 And govern'd himinstrenglh, thougli not in lust. 
 
 So soon was she along, as he was down, 
 Kach leaning on their elbows and their hips: 
 Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown. 
 And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops liis lips ; 
 And kissing speaks, witli lustful language bioken, 
 " If thou will cJiide, thy lips .siiatl never open." 
 
 He burns with hasliful sliame ; she with her tears 
 Doth {(liencb the maiden burning of Iiis checks: 
 Then with her windy sij^hs, and golden ftairs, 
 To lim and blow thc'in dry again she seeks : 
 
 He saith, she is immodest, blames tier 'miss; 
 
 What Ibllows more, she smotJiers with a Idfis. 
 
 Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast. 
 Tires with her beak on feathers, llcsh and bone. 
 Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, 
 Till either gorge be stull'd, or prey be gone ; 
 Even so she kiss'd liis brow, his cheek, his chin, 
 And where she ends, she doth anew begin. 
 
 Forced to content, but never to obey. 
 Panting he lies, and breathing in her face; 
 She feedelh on tiie steam, as on a prey, 
 And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace. 
 Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of liowers, 
 So they were dcw'd with such distilling showers. 
 
 Look how a bird lies tangled in a net, 
 
 So la^ten'd in her arms Adonis lies; 
 
 Pure shame and avv'd resistance made him fret. 
 
 Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes : 
 Kain added to a river that is rank, 
 Perforce will force it overflow tlie bank. 
 
 775 
 
/ I'o 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 Sfill she entreats, and prettily entreats, 
 For to a pretty ear slie tunes lier tale ; 
 Still is he suUen, still he low'rs and frets, 
 'Twixt crimson shame and anger, ashy pale; 
 Being red, she loves him best; and being white, 
 ]{er best is bctlcr'd with a more delight. 
 
 Look hov^ he can. she cannot choose bvl love; 
 And by lier lUir immortal hand she sw.ai's 
 From his soi't bosom never to remove, 
 Till he take truce with tier contending tears, 
 
 Whieii long liave raia'd, making her clieeks all 
 wet ; 
 
 And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt. 
 
 Upon this promise did he raise his chin, 
 I, ike a dive-dapper peering through a wave, 
 V/ho, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in ; 
 So olPers he to give what she did crave ; 
 But when iior lips were ready for his pay. 
 He winks, and turns his lips another way. 
 
 Never did pnsjsen^er in summer's heat 
 More thirst for drink, than she for this good turn : 
 Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; 
 She bathes in water, yet her tire must burn: 
 
 ** Oh pity," 'gan she cry, " tiint-hearted boy ; 
 
 'Tis but a kiss I beg ; why art thou coy 1 
 
 I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, 
 Kvcn by the stern and direful god of war, 
 Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow. 
 Who con(]uers where he comes, in every jar , 
 Yet hath he been my captive and my slave. 
 And begg'd tor that wliich thou unask'd shalt 
 have. 
 
 Over my altars hath he hung his lance, 
 His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest. 
 And for my sake hath learned to sport and dance, 
 To coy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest ; 
 Scorning his churlish drum, and ensign red, 
 Making my arms his tield, his tent my bed. 
 
 Tims he that overrul'd, I oversway'd. 
 Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain : 
 Strong-teniper'd steel his stronger strength obey'd, 
 Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 
 
 O be not proud, nor brag not of tliy might, 
 For mast'ring her that Ibil'd the god of liglit! 
 
 Touch but my lips with those Aur lips of thine, 
 (Though mine be not so iair, yet are they red,) 
 The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine :— 
 What see'st thou in the ground] hold up thy head ; 
 Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies: 
 Then why not lips on lips, since" eyes in eye's? 
 
 Art thou ashamed to kiss! then wink again, 
 And I will wink, so shall the day seem night: 
 Love keeps his revels wliere there are but twain, 
 Bo bold to play, our sport is not in sight : 
 These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean, 
 Never can blab, nor know not what we mean. 
 
 The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 
 
 Shows thee unripe; yet maystthou well be tasted; 
 
 Make use of time, let not advantage slip; 
 
 Beauty within itself should not be wasted : 
 Fair flowers that are not gathor'd in their prime, 
 Hot and consume themselves in little time. 
 
 Were 1 hard-favor'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, 
 111-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, 
 O'er-worn, desj)ised, rheumatic, and cold. 
 Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, 
 
 Then inight'st thou pause, tbr then I Were not 
 for thee ; 
 
 But having no defects, why dost abhor me ? 
 
 Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; 
 
 Mine eyes are grey,* and bright,and quick in turning; 
 
 My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow. 
 
 My Hesh is sod and plump, my marrow burning ; 
 i\Iy smooth moist hand,were it with tiiy hand lelt. 
 Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem lo melt. 
 
 Bid me diseoursn. I will enchant thine ear, 
 Or, like a fairy, trip n))on the green, 
 Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair. 
 Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: 
 
 * Ore}/ is sHJd to be bt'i-e used as Uue. AVe havo subsG- 
 qiionlly — 
 "Uer two blue wiodows f;diitly sbo uphoaveth." 
 
 Love is a spirit all compact of fire, 
 
 Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 
 
 Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie ; 
 These forceless (lower like sturdy trees support me; 
 Two sirengttilcss doves will draw me through the 
 
 sky, 
 F"":i morn till r'ght, even where I list to sport 
 me: 
 Is love so ligh'., sweet hoy, and may it be 
 That thou shouldst think it heavy unto theel 
 
 Is thine own heart to thine own face aflected'^ 
 Can thy right hand seize love upon thy lelll 
 Then woo thyseli; be of thyself rejected, 
 Steal thine own freedom, and complain of theft. 
 Narcissus so, himself himself forsook. 
 And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. 
 
 Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, 
 Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, • 
 Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear ; 
 Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: 
 
 Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty brccdeth 
 beauty. 
 
 Thou wast begot— to get it is thy duty. 
 
 Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed, 
 Unless the earth with thy increase be fed '! 
 By law of Nature thou art bound to breed, 
 That thine may live, when thou thyself art dead, 
 And so in spite of death thou dost survive. 
 In that thy likeness still is left alive." 
 
 By this the love-sick queen began to sweat. 
 For, where they lay, the shadow had forsook them, 
 And Titan, 'tired in the mid-day Jieat, 
 With burning eye did hotly overlook them; 
 Wishing Adonis had Jiis team to guide, 
 So he were like him, and by Venus' side. 
 
 And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, 
 
 And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye. 
 
 His low'ring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight, 
 
 Like misty vapors when they blot the sky. 
 
 Souring his cheeks, cries, "Fie! no more of love; 
 
 The sun doth burn my face ; I must remove." 
 
 " Ah me," quoth Venus, " young, and so unkind ! 
 What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone I 
 I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind 
 Shall cool tlic heat of this descending sun; 
 I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs: 
 If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears. 
 
 The sun that shines from heaven, shines but warm, 
 And lo, I lie between that sun and thee; 
 The heat 1 have from thence doth little harm. 
 Thine eye darts forth the lire that burnetii me: 
 And were I not immortal, life were done. 
 Between this heavenly and earthly sun. 
 
 Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel, 
 Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth ? 
 Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel 
 What 'tis to love I how want of love tormenteth? 
 O had thy mother borne so hard a mind, 
 She had hot brought forth tiiee, but died unkind. 
 
 What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this? 
 
 Or what great danger dwells upon my suit ? 
 
 Wliat were thy lips the worse lor one poor kiss ? 
 
 Sj)eak, fair, but speak words, or else be mute : 
 Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again. 
 And one tbr interest, if thou wilt have twain. 
 
 Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, 
 Well painted idol, image dull and dead, 
 Statue contenting but the eye alone, 
 Thing like a man. but of no woman bred; 
 Thou art no man. though of a man's complexion, 
 For men will kiss even" by their own direction." 
 
 This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, 
 And swelling passion doth provoke a pause ; 
 lied cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong ; 
 Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause ; 
 
 And now she weeps, and now she fain would 
 speak, 
 
 And now her sobs do her intendments break. 
 
 Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand. 
 Now gazeth she on him. now on the ground; 
 Sometimes her arms inlold him like a band ; 
 SJie would, he will not in her arms be bound: 
 
VENUS AND ADOxVIS. 
 
 777 
 
 And when from thence he struggles to be gone, 
 Slie locks her lily lingers one in one. 
 
 "Fondling." she saith, "since I have hemm'd thee 
 Within the circuit of this ivory pale, [here, 
 
 I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; 
 Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale; 
 Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry. 
 Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains "lie. 
 
 Within this limit is relief enou°;h. 
 Sweet bottom-i^ras;^, and high delightful plain, 
 Ilound rising hillocks, brake obscure and rough, 
 To shelter thee from tempest and from rain ; 
 Tlien be my deer, since I am such a park ; 
 No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark." 
 At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, 
 That in each cfieck appears a pretty dimple : 
 Lo\e made those hollows, if himself were slain. 
 He might be buried in a tomb so simple ; 
 Fore-knowing well if there he came to lie. 
 Why there Love liv'd and there he could not die. 
 These lovely caves, these round-enchanting pits, 
 Open*d their mouths to swallow Venus' liking: 
 Being mad before, how doth she now lor wits 1 
 Struck dead at tirst, what needs a second striking"? 
 Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn. 
 To love a ciieek that smiles at thee in scorn ! 
 
 Nov/which wayshall she turn? whatshall shepayl 
 Her words are done, her woes the more increasing, 
 Tlie time is spent, her object will away, 
 And from her twining arms doth urge releasing: 
 "• Pity," she cries, " some favor — some remorse^" 
 Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse. 
 
 But !o, from forth a copse that neighbors by, 
 A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud, 
 Adonis' trampling courser doth espy. 
 And forth she rushes, snorts, and neighs aloud: 
 The strong-neckM steed, being tied unto a tree, 
 Breaketh liis rein, and to her straight goes he. 
 
 Imperiou-^ly he leaps, he neighs, he bounds. 
 And now liis WDven girths he breaks asunder, 
 The bearing carlh with his hard hoof he wounds, 
 Whoyc iiollow womb resounds like heaven's thun- 
 der; 
 The iron bit he crushes 'tween his teeth, 
 Controlling what he was controlled with. 
 
 His ears up-prick'd ; his braided hanging mane 
 Upon his compass'd crest now stands on end ; 
 His nostrils drink tlie air. and forth again. 
 As from a furnace, vapors doth he send : 
 His eye, which glisters scornfully like lire. 
 Shows his hot courage and his high desire. 
 
 Sometimes he trots, as if he told the steps, 
 W^ith gentle majesty, and modest pride ; 
 Anon he rears upright, curvets, and leaps. 
 As who would say, lo! thus my strength is tried ; 
 And this I do to captivate the eye 
 Of the fair breeder that is standing by. 
 
 What recketh he his rider's angry stir. 
 His flattering " iioUa," or his ^'■Siand, I say ?^^ 
 What cares he now for curb, or pricking spur 1 
 For rich caparisons, or trapping gay ? 
 He sees his love, and nothing else' he sees, 
 For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. 
 Look, when a painter would surpass the life, 
 In limning out a weU-proportionM steed. 
 His art wittl nature's workmanship at strife, 
 As if the dead the living should excc-:^d ; 
 So did this horse excel a common one, 
 \i\ bhape, in courage, color, pace, and bone. 
 
 Round-hoofd, short-jointea. fetlocks shag and long, 
 iiroad breast, full eyes, small head, and nostril wide. 
 High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing 
 
 strong, 
 T hin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: 
 Look what a horse should have, he did not lack, 
 Save a proud rider on so proud a back. 
 
 Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares; 
 Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; 
 To bid the wind a base- he now prepares. 
 And whe'r he run, or Ily, they knew not whether; 
 
 » In the game of ba^n-, ov prison txtsc, one nins and chal- 
 lenf^es another to pursue. ''To bitl the wind a base,*' is 
 therefore to challeiigo the wind to speed. 
 
 For through In"s mane and tail the high wind 
 
 sings. 
 Fanning the hairs, who wave like fealher'd wings. 
 
 He looks upon his love and neighs unto her; 
 She answers him as if she knew his mind : 
 Being proud, as females are, to see liim woo her, 
 She puts on outward strangeness. seems unkind; 
 Spurns at his love, and scorns the heat he feels, 
 Beating his kind embracements with her heels. 
 
 Then, like a melancholy raalecontent. 
 He vails his tail, that, like a Jailing jilume, 
 Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent; 
 He stamps, and bites the poor Hies in his fume: 
 His love, perceiving how he is enraged, 
 Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged. 
 
 His testy master gocth about to take him ; 
 
 When lo. the unbackM breeder, full of tear. 
 
 Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him; 
 
 With her the horse, and left Adonis there: 
 As tliey were mad, unto the wood they hie them, 
 Out-stripping crows that strive lo over-lly them 
 
 All swoln with chasing, down Adonis sits, 
 Banning his boisterous and unruly beast; 
 And now the happy season once more fits. 
 That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; 
 For lovers say the heart liath treble wrong, 
 When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue. 
 
 An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, 
 
 Burneth more hotJy, swelleth with more ragu : 
 
 So of concealed sorrov; may be said; 
 
 Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; 
 But when the heart's attorney^ once is mute, 
 The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. 
 
 He sees her coming, and begins to glow, 
 Even as a dying coal revives with wind, 
 And with his bonnet hides his angry brow; 
 Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind; 
 Taking no notice that she is so nigh. 
 For all askaunce he holds her in his eye. 
 
 O what a sight it was. wistiv to view 
 
 How she came stealing to the wayward boy ! 
 
 To note the fighting conJlict of her hue ! 
 
 How white and red each otlier did destroy ! 
 But now her cheek was pale, and by and by 
 It dash'd Ibrth fire, as lightning from the sky. 
 
 Now was she just before him as he sat, 
 And like a lowly lover down she kneels; 
 With one lair hand she he'aveth up his hat, 
 Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: 
 His tender cheek receives her soft hand's print, 
 As apt as new-fallen snow takes any dint. 
 
 O what a war of looks was then between them ! 
 
 Her eyes, petitioners, to his eyes suing ; 
 
 His eyes saw her eves as they had not seen them , 
 
 Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd tlie wooing ; 
 And all this dump play had his-* acts made plain 
 With tears, whicli, chorus-like, her eyes did rain. 
 
 Full gently now she takes him by the hand, 
 
 A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow. 
 
 Or ivory in an alabaster band ; 
 
 So white a friend engirts so white a foe: 
 This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, 
 Show'd like two silver doves that sit a billing. 
 
 Once more the engine of her thoughts began: 
 '* O fairest mover on this mortal round, 
 Would thou wert as I am, and I a man. 
 My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound; 
 For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee, 
 Tho' nothing but my body's bane would cure 
 thee." 
 
 "Give me my hand," saith he, "why dost thou feel 
 
 itl" 
 "Give me my heart," saith she, "and thou shalt 
 
 have it; 
 O give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, 
 And being steel'd, soft sighs can never 'grave it: 
 Then love's deep groans I never shall regard. 
 Because Adonis" heart hath made mine hard." 
 
 " For shame," he cries, " let go, and let me go; 
 My day's delight is past, my horse is gone, 
 
 1 The tongue. « His for its. 
 
778 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 And 'tis your fault 1 am bereft him so; 
 
 I pray you hence, and leave me here alone : 
 For all my miud, my thought, my busy care, 
 Is how to get my paltrey from the mare," 
 
 Thus she replies : " Thy palfrey, as he should. 
 Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire, 
 Artccfion is a coal that must be cool'd; 
 Else, sulfer'd, it will set the heart on hre : 
 The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none, 
 Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. 
 
 How like a jade he stood, tied to a tree, 
 .'ervilely master'd with a leathern rein ! 
 i3ut when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee. 
 He held such petty bondage in disdain; 
 Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, 
 Enfranchising his mouth, Ins back, his breast. 
 
 Who sees his true love in her naked bed, 
 Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white, 
 But, when his glutton eye uc full hath fed, 
 His other agents aim at "like delight^ 
 Who is so liiint that dare not be so bold 
 To touch the tire, the weather being cold 1 
 
 Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy ; 
 
 And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, 
 
 To take advantage on presented joy ; 
 
 Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach 
 tliee. 
 O learn to love ; the lesson is but plain. 
 And, once made perfect, never lost again." 
 
 "I know not love," quoth he, "nor will not know it, 
 
 Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it; 
 
 'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it ; 
 
 My love to love is love but to disgrace it; 
 For I have heard it is a life in death, 
 Thatlaughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. 
 
 Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'dl 
 Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth 1 
 If springing things be any jot diminish'd, 
 They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth : 
 The colt that's back'd and burthen'd being young, 
 Losetii his pride, and never waxeth strong. 
 
 You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part. 
 And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat ; 
 Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; 
 To love's alarm it will not ojie the gate. 
 
 Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your 
 flattery ; 
 
 For where a heart is hard, they make no battery." 
 
 "What! canst thou talk," quoth she, "hast thou a 
 tongue ? 
 
 would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! 
 Thy mermaid's voice iiath done me double wrong; 
 
 1 had my load belbre, now press'd with bearing: 
 Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sound- 
 ing. 
 
 Earth s deep-sweet music, and heart s deep-sore 
 wounding. 
 
 [lad I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love 
 Tiiat inward beauty and invisible: 
 Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts wonld move 
 Each part in me ttiat were but sensible ; 
 Tliough neither eyes nor ears, to liear nor see, 
 Yet should I be in love, by touching thee. 
 
 Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me. 
 And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch. 
 And nothing but the very smell were left me. 
 Vet would my love to thee be still as much; 
 Ft)r from the still'tory of thy face excelling 
 Comes breath perfum'd, that breedeth love by 
 smelling. 
 
 lUit O, what banquet wert thou to the taste, 
 lieing nurse and feeder of the other four ! 
 Would they not wish the feast might ever last. 
 And bid Suspicion double-lock the doorl 
 Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest. 
 Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast." 
 
 Once more the ruby-color'd portal open'd. 
 Which to his speech did honey passage yield; 
 Like a red morn, that ever yet hetoken'd 
 Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field. 
 Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds. 
 Gust and foul Haws to herdsmen and to herds. 
 
 This ill presage advisedly she marketh: 
 Even as the wind is hushed before it raineth, 
 Or as the wolf doth grin belore he barkcth. 
 Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, 
 Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, 
 His meaning struck her ere his words begun: 
 
 And at his look she dally fallcth down. 
 For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth ; 
 A smile recures the wounding of a frown. 
 But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth 
 The silly boy believing she is dead, 
 Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red 
 
 And all amaz'd brake offhis late intent. 
 For sharply he did think to reprehend her. 
 Which cunning love did wittily prevent : 
 Fair liill the wit that can so well deli-nd her. 
 For on the grass she lies as she were slain. 
 Till his breath breatheth life in her again. 
 
 He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the clieeks, 
 He bends her lingers, holds her pulses hard ; 
 He chafes her lips, a thousand ways he seeks 
 To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd; 
 He kisses her; and she, by her good will. 
 Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. 
 
 The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day: 
 Her two blue windows lainlly she uiilieaveth, 
 Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array 
 He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: 
 And as the bright sun glorifies the sky. 
 So is her (iice illumin'd with her eye, 
 
 Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd. 
 As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine. 
 Were never four such lamps together mix'd. 
 Had not his clouded wilh his brows' repine; 
 
 But hers, which Ihrough the crystal tears gave 
 light. 
 
 Shone like the moon in water seen by night. 
 
 "O where am I," quolli she, "in earth or heaven, 
 Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the tire ! 
 What hour is this ! or morn, or weary cveni 
 Do 1 delight to die, or lile desire? 
 
 But now I liv'd, and lite was death's annoy; 
 
 But now I died, and death was lively joy. 
 
 O thou didst kill me: — kill me once again; 
 Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, 
 Hath taught them scornfullricks, and such disdain 
 That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine; 
 And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, 
 But lor thy piteous lips no more had seen. 
 
 Long may they kiss each other, for this cure ! 
 
 Oh never let their crimson liveries wear! 
 
 And as they last, their verdure still endure, 
 
 To drive infection from the dangerous year ! 
 That the star-gazers, having writ on death, 
 May say the plague is banish'd by thy breath. 
 
 Pure lips, s\^'eet seals in my soft lips imprinted. 
 What bargains may I make, still to be sealing ] 
 To sell myself I can be well contented. 
 So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing; 
 Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips, 
 Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lijis. 
 
 A thousand kisses buys my heart from me ; 
 
 And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. 
 
 What is ten hundred touches unto thee? 
 
 Arc they not quickly told, and quickly gone? 
 Say, lor non-payment that the debt should double, 
 Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?" 
 
 "Fair queen," quoth he, "if any love you owe me, 
 
 Measure my strangeness with my unripe years; 
 
 Belbre I know myself seek not to' know me ; 
 
 No lisher but the ungrown fry forbears: 
 The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fasfc 
 Or being early pluck 'd is sour to taste. 
 
 Look, the world's comfo.ler, wilh weary gait. 
 His day's hot task hath ciulid in llie west: 
 The owl, night's herald, slu ieks— '/«• rcri/ late ; 
 The sheep are gone to liild, birds to theii- nest; 
 The coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light 
 Do summon us to part, and bid good night. 
 
 Now let mo say, gnnd niehf, and so say you; 
 If you will say so, you sliall have a kiss." 
 
VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 779 
 
 "Good night," quoth she; and, ere he saj-s adieu, 
 The iKincy lee of parting teiider'd is: 
 
 Her anus do lend his neck a sweet embrace ; 
 
 Incorporate then tliey seem, (ace (.tows to face. 
 
 Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew 
 The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth. 
 Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, 
 Whereon they surfeit yet complain on drouth ; 
 He with lier plenty press'd, she laint with dearth, 
 (Their hps together glued,) fall to the earth. 
 
 Now quick Desire hath caught the yielding prey. 
 And glutton-like she li-eds jet never lilleth ; 
 Her lips arc conquerors, his lips obey. 
 Paj ing what ransom the insulter willeth ; 
 
 VVhose vulture thought dotn pitch the ]irice so 
 high, 
 
 That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. 
 
 And having felt the sweelness of the spoil, 
 With blind-fold fury she begins to Ibrage; 
 Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil. 
 And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; 
 Planting oblivion, beating reason back. 
 Forgetting shame's pure blusli, and honor's 
 wrack. 
 
 Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing. 
 Like a wild bird being tamed with loo much hand 
 
 hug. 
 Or as the lleet-foot roc that's tired with chasing, 
 Or like the Iroward infant still'd with dandling, 
 Jlc now oLieys, and now no more resistetli, 
 While she takes all she can, not all she lisleth. 
 
 What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering, 
 And yields at last to every light impression ! 
 Tliingsoutolhope are compass doll with venturing, 
 Chietly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: 
 Atlt'ction liiints not, like a pale-liiccd coward, 
 But then woos best when most his choice is 
 froward. 
 
 When he did frown, 0, had she then gave over, 
 
 Such nectar irom his hps she had not suck'd. 
 
 Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover; 
 
 What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tispluck'd: 
 Were Beauty under twenty locks kept (iist. 
 Yet Love breaks through, and picks them all at 
 last. 
 
 For pity now she can no more detain him; 
 
 The poor fool jirays her lliat he may depart: 
 
 She is resolv'd no longer to restrain him ; 
 
 Bids him liirewell, and look well to her heart. 
 The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest. 
 He carries thence incaged in his breast. 
 
 "Sweet boy," she says, "this night I'll waste in 
 sorrow, 
 
 For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. 
 
 Tell me, love's master, shall we meet to-morrow ! 
 
 Say,sliallwe!sliallwe? wilt lliou make the match I" 
 He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends 
 To hunt the boar with ct Ham of Ins friends. 
 
 "The boar!" quoth she; whereat a sudden pale, 
 Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, 
 Usurps lier cheeks; she trembles at his tale. 
 And on Ins neck her yoking arms she throws: 
 She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck. 
 He on her belly falls, she on her back. 
 
 Now is she in the very lists of love, ' 
 
 Her champion mounted for the hot encounter: 
 
 Ail is imaginary .^he doth prove. 
 
 He will not manage her, although he mount her ; 
 That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy, 
 To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy. 
 
 Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes 
 Do surtcit by the eye, and jiiiie the maw, 
 Even so she languisheth in her mishaps. 
 As those poor birds that helpless berries saw: 
 The warm ellects which she in him finds missing. 
 She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. 
 
 But all in vain; good queen, it will not be: 
 She hath assay'd as much as may be proved ; 
 Her pleading halh deserv'd a greater li>e ; 
 She s Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd. 
 
 "Fie, tie," he says, "you "crush me; let me go; 
 
 You have no reason to withhold me so." 
 
 "Thou hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet ioy, 
 
 ere this, 
 But that thou told'stme thou woul 1st hunt the boar. 
 O he advis'd! thou know'st not wnat it is 
 With javelin's jioint a churlish swine to gore, 
 Whose tushes never shcath'd he vvhettelh slil]. 
 Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill. 
 
 On his bow-back he halh a battle set 
 Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; 
 His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret. 
 His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes; 
 Being mov'd, he strikes whate'er is in his way, 
 And whom he strikes his cruel tushes slay. 
 
 His brawny side, with hairy bristles arm'd, 
 
 Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter; 
 
 His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd ; 
 
 Being irel'iil, on the lion he will venture: 
 The thorny brambles and embracing bushes. 
 As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes. 
 
 Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine. 
 To which Love's eye pays tributary gazes; 
 Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal cyne, 
 Whose full perli'ction all the world amazes; 
 But having thee at vantage, (wondrous dread !) 
 Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. 
 
 O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still ! 
 
 Beauty halh nought lo do with such foul liends; 
 
 Come not within his danger by thy will ; 
 
 They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends. 
 When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, 
 I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. 
 
 Didst thou not mark my face ! Was it not white? 
 
 Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye ? 
 
 Crew 1 not faint ! And fell I not downright'? 
 
 Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie. 
 My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest. 
 But, like an earthquake shakes thee on my breast. 
 
 For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy 
 Doth call himself All'ection's sentinel ; 
 Oives false alarms, suggcsteth mutiny. 
 And in a peaceful hour doth cry. kill, kill; 
 
 Distempering gentle Love with his desire. 
 
 As air and water do abate the fire. 
 
 This sour informer, this bate-breeding^ spy. 
 
 This canker that eats up love's tender spnng,6 
 
 This carry-tale, dissentious jealousy, 
 
 Thatsometime true news,sometimelalse doth bring, 
 Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine car. 
 That if 1 love thee I thy death should fear: 
 
 And, more than so, presentrth to mine eye 
 The picture of an angry-chaling boar. 
 Under who.se sharp fangs on his back doth lie 
 An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore; 
 Whose blood upon the fresh liowers being shed, 
 Doth make them droop with grief, and hang tho 
 head. 
 
 What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, 
 
 That tremble at the imagination ? 
 
 The thought of it dolh make my faint heart bleed, 
 
 And fear dolh teach it divination : 
 1 jirophcsy thy death, my living sorrow, 
 H thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. 
 
 But if thou needs will hunt, he rul'd by me; 
 
 Uncouple at the timorous flying hare. 
 
 Or at the fox. which lives by subtilly. 
 
 Or at the roe, which no encoiinler dare; 
 Pursue these fearhil creatures o'er the downs. 
 And on thy well-brcath'd horse keep with thy 
 hounds. 
 
 And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, 
 i\lark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles 
 How he outruns the wind, and with what care 
 He cranks and crosses, wilh a thousand doubles: 
 The many inusits through the which he goes 
 Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. 
 
 Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, 
 To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, 
 And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, 
 To stop the loud luirsuers in their yell; 
 
 And sometime sorlelh with a herd of deer; 
 
 Danger deviseth shirts; wit waits on fear: 
 ' Strife breeding. • Bud, or youug shoot. 
 
780 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 For llicre his smtll with others being mingled. 
 Tile iiot Kcent-snutting iioundsarc driven-to doubt, 
 CcasinK tlieir clamorous ery till they have singled 
 With nmch ado the cold Ikult cleanly out; 
 Tlu-ii do they spend their mouths : Kcho replies, 
 As il auotlier chase were in the slvics. 
 
 By this, poor Wat, far ofi'upon a Iidll, 
 Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear, 
 To hearken if his Iocs pursue him still ; 
 Anon their loud alarums he doth hear ; 
 And now his griel may be compared well 
 To one sore-sicl>, tliat hears the passing bell. 
 
 Then shalt thou sec the dew-bedabbled wretch 
 Turn, and return, indenting with the way; 
 Kach envious briar his weary legs doth scratch. 
 Each shadow makes him stop, eacli murmur stay: 
 For misery is trodden on by many. 
 And being low, never reliev'd by any. 
 
 Lie quietly, and hear a little more ; 
 Nay, do not struggle, lor thou shalt not rise : 
 To make tliee hate the hunting of the boar, 
 Unlilie myself thou hear'st me'morahze, 
 
 Applying this to tlial, and so to so ; 
 
 i'ur love can comment upon every woe. 
 
 Where did I leave 1"— "No matter where," quoth 
 
 he ; 
 "Leave me, and then the story aptly ends : 
 The night is spent." "Why, what of that!" quoth 
 
 she. 
 "I am," quoth he, "expected of my friends; 
 And now iis dark, and going I shall lall." 
 "In night," quoth she, "Desire sees best of all. 
 
 But if thou fall, O then imagine this. 
 
 The eartli in love with thee thy looting trips, 
 
 And ail is but to rob thee of a kiss. 
 
 Kii-h ]>reys make true men thieves; so do thy lips 
 J\Inkc modest Dian cloudy and Ibrlorn, 
 Lest she should steal a kiss, and die Ibrsworn. 
 
 Now of this dark night I perceive the reason: 
 Cyiilhia lor shame obscures her silver shine, 
 Till forging nature be condemn'd of treason, 
 lor sleiiling moulds from heaven that were divine, 
 Whci em .-he Iram'd thee in high heaven 'sdespite, 
 To sliame the sun by day, and her by night. 
 
 And therefore hath she brib'd the Destinies, 
 To cross the curious workmanship of nature, 
 To mingle beauty with iiuirmities. 
 And pure pcrfeciion with impure defeature; 
 Waking it subject to the tyranny 
 Of mad mischances and mucli misery; 
 
 As burning fevers, agues pale and faint. 
 Life-poisoning pestilence, and frenzies wood,' 
 Tlie marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint 
 Disorder breeds by healing of the blood: 
 Surleits,iinposthumes,grief.anddamird despair. 
 Swear Nature's death lor framing thee so fair. 
 
 And not the least of all llicse maladies. 
 But in one minute's light brings beauty under: 
 Both liivor, savor, hue, and qualities. 
 Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder. 
 Are on the sudden wasted, tliaw'd, and done. 
 As mountain snow melts with the mid-day sun. 
 
 Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity, 
 Love-lacking vestals, and self-loving nuns. 
 That on the earth would breed a scarcity 
 And liarren dearth of daughters and of .sons, 
 Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night, 
 Dries up his oil, to lend the world his light. 
 
 What is thy body but a swallowing grave, 
 
 Seeming to bury that posterity 
 
 VVhicii by the rights ol lime thou needs must have, 
 
 II thou destroy tliem not in dark obscurity ? 
 If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, 
 Sith in thy pride so liiir a hope is slain. 
 
 So in thyself thj'self art made away; 
 
 A niischiel' worse than civil home-bred strife, 
 
 Or theirs whose desijcrate hands themselves do 
 
 slay. 
 Or butcher-sire, that reaves his son of life. 
 Foul cankering rust lli(> hidden treasure frets, 
 Fut gold that's put to use more gold begets." 
 1 Mad. 
 
 "Nay then," quoth Adon, "you will fall again 
 
 Into your idle over-handled theme ; 
 
 The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain. 
 
 And all in vain you strive against the stream ; 
 For by this black-faced night, desire's Ibul nurse, 
 Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. 
 
 If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues. 
 And every tongue more moving than your own. 
 Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs. 
 Vet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown; 
 J''or know, my heart stands armed in mine ear, 
 And will not let a false sound enter there; 
 
 Lest the deceiving harmony shall run 
 Into the quiet closure of my breast; 
 And then my little heart were quite undone. 
 In his bed-chamber to be barr'd of rest. 
 
 No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan. 
 
 But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. 
 
 What have you urg'd that I cannot reprove'! 
 The path is smooth that leadeth unto danger; 
 1 hate not love, but your device in love. 
 That lends embracements unto every stranger. 
 
 You do It tor increase ; O strange excuse! 
 
 When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse. 
 
 Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled. 
 Since sweating lust on earth usurp 'd his name ; 
 Under whose simple semblance he hath led 
 Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; 
 Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves 
 As caterpillars do the tender leaves. 
 
 Love comforteth like sunshine after rain. 
 
 But lust's etfect is tempest after sun; 
 
 Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, 
 
 Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done. 
 Love surfeits not; lust like a glutton dies: 
 Love is all truth ; lust full of forged lies. 
 
 More 1 could tell, but more I dare not say; 
 
 The text is old. the orator too green. 
 
 Therefore, in sadness, now I w'ill away; 
 
 jMy lace is full of shame, my heart of teen ;' 
 -Mine ears that to your wanton talk attended, 
 Do burn themselves for having so ollended." 
 
 With this he brcakelh from the sweet embrace 
 Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast. 
 And homeward through the dark laund runs apace, 
 Leaves Love ujion her back deeply distress 'd. 
 Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky. 
 So glides he in the night from Venus' eye; 
 
 Which after him she darts, as one on shore 
 Ciiziiig upon a late-embarked friend. 
 Till the wild waves will hove him seen no more, 
 Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend; 
 So did the merciless and pitchy night 
 Fold in the object that did lecd her sight. 
 Whereat aniaz'd, as one that unaware 
 Haih dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood. 
 Or stonish'd as night-waiiderers ollcn are. 
 Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood; 
 Kven so contbundcd in the dark she lay. 
 Having lost the lair discovery of her way. 
 
 And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans. 
 
 That all the neighbor-caves, as seeming troubled, 
 
 Make verbal repetition of her moans ; 
 
 Passion on passion deeply is redoubled : 
 "Aliiiie! 'she cries, and twenty times," «!oc,jt)oe."' 
 And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. 
 
 She. marking them, begins a wailing note. 
 
 And sings e.\teinp'rallv a woeful ditty; 
 
 How love makes young men thrall, "and old men 
 
 dote ; 
 How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty : 
 Her heavy anthem slill concliKles in woe, 
 And still the choir of echoes answer so. 
 Her song was tedious, and outwore the night. 
 For lovers' hours are long, though secniiiig short: 
 It pleas d themselves, others, they think, delight 
 In such like circumstance, with such like sport. 
 Their copious stories, oftentimes begun, 
 F^nd without audience, and are never done. 
 
 For who hath she to spend the night withal, 
 But idle sounds, resembling parasites, 
 • Sorrow. 
 
VENUS AND ADOXIS. 
 
 781 
 
 Like slinll-tongucd Uipstprs answering every call, 
 Soothing the humor of fantastic wits? 
 She says, "'tis so;" they answer all, "'tis so:' 
 And would say after her, if she said " no." 
 
 Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, 
 I-'rom his moist cabiMet mounts up on high, 
 And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast 
 The sun ariseth in his majesty; 
 \Vho doth the world so gloriously behold. 
 The cedar-tops and hills seem biirnisird gold. 
 
 Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow : 
 "O thou clear god, and patron of ail light. 
 From whom each lamp and sliining star doth bor- 
 row 
 The beauteous influence that makes him bright. 
 There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother. 
 May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other." 
 
 This said, she hastcth to a myrtle grove. 
 Musing (he morning is so much o'erworn. 
 And yet she hears no tidings ol her lovo : 
 She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn : 
 Anon she hears them chant it lustily. 
 And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. 
 
 And as she runs, the bushes in the way 
 Some catch'her by the neck, some kiss her face, 
 Some twine about her thigh to make her stay ; 
 She wildly breaketh from their strict embmce. 
 Like a milch doe. whose swelling dugs do ache, 
 Hasting to ieed her fawn, hid in some brake, 
 
 Bv this she hears the liounds are at a ha}-, 
 Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder 
 Wrealh'd up in fatal folds, just in his way. 
 The fear whereof doth make him shake and shud- 
 der: 
 Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds 
 Appals her senses, and her .spright confounds. 
 
 For now she knows it is no gentle chase. 
 But the blunt boar, rough hear, or lion proud, 
 Because the cry remainelh in one place. 
 Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud: 
 
 Finding tlieir enemy to be so curst, 
 
 They all strain courVsy who shall cope him first. 
 
 This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, 
 Tlnough which it enters to surprise her he.irt, 
 Who, overcome by doubt iind bloodless fear, 
 With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part: 
 Like soldiers, whentheircaptainonce doth yield. 
 They basely tly, and dare not stay the field. 
 
 Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy ;^ 
 Till, cheering up her senses sore dismay 'd, 
 She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy. 
 And childish error that thev are afraid ; 
 
 Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no 
 more ; — 
 
 And with that word she spied the hunted boar; 
 
 Whose frolhv month, bepaintcd all with red. 
 Like milk and blood being mingled both together, 
 A second fi ar through all her sinews spread. 
 Which madly hurries her she knows not whither; 
 Tills way she runs, and now she will no further, 
 But back retires, to rate the boar for murther. 
 
 A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways; 
 She treads the path that she untreads again ; 
 Her more than haste is mated with delays. 
 Like the proceedings of a drunken brain ; 
 
 Full of respect, vet not at all respecting. 
 
 In hand with all things, nought at all etTccting. 
 
 Here kennel'd in a brake she finds a hound, 
 And asks the weary cailitTfor his master; 
 And there another licking of his wound, 
 '(gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign jilaster: 
 And here she meets another sadly scowding. 
 To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling. 
 
 When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise. 
 Another flap-niouth'd mourner, black and grim, 
 Agninst the welkin volleys out his voice; 
 4nother and another answer him. 
 Clapping their proud tails to the ground below. 
 Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go. 
 
 Look, liow the world's poor people are amaz'd 
 At apparilijns, signs, and prodigies, 
 
 Whereon with tearful eyes they long have gaz'd, 
 Infusing them with dreadful prophecies; 
 So she at these sad signs draws up her breath, 
 And, sighing it again, e.xclaims on Death. 
 
 " Hard-favor'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean. 
 Hateful divorce of love," (thus chides she Death,) 
 "Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what, dost thou 
 
 mean 
 To stifle beauty, and to steal his breath. 
 Who when he lived, his breath and beauty set 
 (Jloss on the rose, smell to tlie violet? 
 
 If he be dead, — O no, it cannot be, 
 Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it — 
 O ycs^ it may ; thou liast no e> es to see, 
 Biit hatelully at random dost thou hit. 
 Thy mark is feeble age; — but thy false dart 
 Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an inliint's hcait 
 
 Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke. 
 And hearing him thy power had lost his-' power. 
 The Destinies will curse thee lor this stroke; 
 Tliey bid thee crop a weed, thou pluek'st a flower: 
 Love's golden arrow at him should have fled. 
 And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead. 
 
 Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such 
 
 weeping ? 
 What may a heavy groan advantage thecl 
 Why hast thou east into eternal sleeiiing 
 Those eyes that taught all other eyes to seel 
 Now Nature cares not Icr thy mortal vigor, 
 Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigor." 
 
 Here overcome, as one full of despair. 
 She veil'd her eye-lids, who, like sluices, slopp'd 
 The crystal tide that Irom her two cheeks liiir 
 In the sweet channel pf her bosom dropp'd ; 
 
 But through the llood-gales breaks the silver 
 rain. 
 
 And with his strong course opens them again. 
 
 O how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow! 
 
 Ile-r eyes seen in her tears, tears in her eye ; 
 
 Both crystals, where Ikey view'd each other's sor- 
 row. 
 
 Sorrow, that friendly sighs sought still lo dry; 
 But like a stormy tlay, now wind, now rain, 
 Sighs dry her cheeks," tears make them wet again. 
 
 Variable passions throng her constant woe. 
 As striving who should best become her grief; 
 All entertain'd, each passion labors sv> 
 Tliat every present sorrow seenieth chief. 
 But none is best ; then join they all tcrgetlier, 
 Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. 
 
 By this, far olTshe hears some huntsmen hollo; 
 A nurse's song ne'er pleased her babe so well: 
 The dire imagination sl-.e did follow 
 This sound of hope doth labor to expel ; 
 
 For now reviving joy bids her rejoice. 
 
 And Hatters her, it is Adonis' voice. 
 
 Whereat her tears began to turn their tide. 
 Being prison'd in her>yc, like pearls in glass; 
 Vet sometimes falls an "orient drop beside, 
 Whieli her check mclt.s, as scorning it should pass 
 To wash the foul lace of the sluttish ground. 
 Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd. 
 
 O hard-believing love, how strange it seems 
 
 Not to believe, and yet too credulous ! 
 
 Thy weal and woe are both of lliem extremes, 
 
 Despair and hope make thee ridiculous: 
 The one doth Hatter thee in thoughts unlikely. 
 With likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly. 
 
 Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought , 
 
 Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame ; 
 
 It was not she that cali'd hinr all-to nought ; 
 
 Now she adds honors to his hateful name ; 
 Sheclepcs him king ofgiaves, and grave for kings, 
 Imperious supreme ol^all mortal things, 
 
 " No, no," quoth she, " Sweet Death, I did but jest; 
 Vet pardon me, I lelt a kind of fear. 
 When as I met the boar, that bloody boast. 
 Which knows no pity, but is still severe; 
 Then gentle shado'w, (truth I must confess,) 
 I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease. 
 
782 
 
 VENUS AND ADONIS. 
 
 liorn, 
 orlorn. 
 
 Tis not mv fault: the hoar provok'd my tongue ; 
 
 Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander ; 
 
 'Tis ho, /bul creature, thai hath done thee wrong; 
 
 I did Ijut act, he's author of thy slander : 
 Grief iiatti two totigues, and never woman yet 
 Could rule them boUi, without ten women's wit." 
 
 TIuis, hoping that Adonis is alive, 
 Her rasli suspect she doth extenuate ; 
 And that his beauty may the better thrive. 
 With Death she humbly doth insinuate; 
 Tells him of trophies, statues, toml)s; and stories 
 His victories, his triumphs, and iiis glories. 
 
 " Jove." quoth she, "how much a fool was I, 
 
 To be of such a weak and silly mind. 
 
 To wail his death who lives, and must not die. 
 
 Till mutual overilirow of mortal kind! 
 Kor he being dead, with hira is beauty slain. 
 And, be.auty dead, black chaos comes again. 
 
 Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear 
 
 As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves, 
 
 Triiles, unwitnessed with eye or ear. 
 
 Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves." 
 Kven at this word she hears a merry hr " 
 Whereat she leaps that was but late lb 
 
 As falcon to the lure away slie flies ; 
 
 Thc' grass stoops not, shctreads en it so light ; 
 
 And in her haste unfortunately spies 
 
 Tile foul boar's conquest on her liiir delight ; 
 Which seen, her eyes. asmurder'd with the view. 
 Like stars ashamed of day, tliemselves withdrew. 
 
 Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit. 
 Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain. 
 And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit, 
 Long alter fearing to creej) Ibrth again; 
 So, at his bloody view, iter eyes are (led 
 Hito the deep dark cabins of her head ; 
 
 Where they resign their odiee and their light 
 T<t the disposing of her troubled brain ; 
 Who bids them still consort with uglv night. 
 And never wound the heart with looks again ; 
 WMio, like a king perjilcxed in his throne, 
 liy their suggestion gives a deadly groan, 
 
 Whereat each tributary subject quakes: 
 As when the wind, imprison'd in tlie ground. 
 Struggling for passage, eartli's foundation shakes, 
 Which with cold terrbi'doth men's minds conlbund. 
 The mutiny each part doth so surprise, 
 Tlial from their dark beds once more leap her 
 eyes ; 
 
 And, being open'd, threw unwilling light 
 Upon the wide wound that the boar had trencli'd 
 In his soil rtank; whose wonted lily white 
 With purple tears, that his wound wept, was 
 dreneh'd : 
 No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed. 
 But stole his blood, and seem'd with him to bleed. 
 
 This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth ; 
 Over one shoulder doth she hang her head ; 
 Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth ; 
 She thinks he could not die, he is not dead. 
 
 }ler voice is stopp'd, her joints forget to how; 
 
 Her eyes are mad that they have wejit till now. 
 
 Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly 
 
 That her sight dazzling makes the "wound seem 
 
 three; 
 And then she reprehends her mangling eye. 
 That makes more gashes where no breach should be: 
 His face seems twain, each several limb is 
 
 doubled. 
 For olt the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled, 
 
 "Mv tongue cannot express my grief for one. 
 And yet," quoth she. " behold two Adons dead ! 
 AJy sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone. 
 Mine eyes arc tnrn'd to tire, my heart to lead: 
 
 ileavy heart's lead melt at mine eyes' red lire ! 
 
 So shall I die by drops of hot desire. 
 
 Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost ! 
 Wliit lace remains alive that's worth the viewing? 
 W Inise tongue is music now! whatoaust thou boast 
 Oi't'iings long since, or any thing ensuing ! 
 
 The flowers arc sweet, tlieir colors tVesh and trim; 
 
 IJi. I true-sweet beauty liv'd and died with him. 
 
 Honnet nor veil hcneetorth no creature wear ! 
 
 Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you : 
 
 Having no fair' to lose, you need not fear; 
 
 The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth his 
 you : 
 But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air 
 Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of iiis fiiii : 
 
 And therefore would he put his bonnet on. 
 Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; 
 The wind would blow it oti; and, being gone. 
 Play with his locks; then would Adonis weep; 
 And straight, in pity of his tender years. 
 They both would strive who first should dry his 
 tears. 
 
 To see his face, the lion walk'd along 
 Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him 
 To recreate himself, when he hath sung. 
 The tiger would be tame and gently hear him. 
 If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey. 
 And never fright the silly lamb that day. 
 
 When he beheld his shadow in the brook 
 The fishes spread on it their golden gills; 
 When he was by, the birds such pleasure took 
 That some would sing, some other in their bills 
 
 Would bring him mulberries, and ripe red cher- 
 ries ; 
 
 He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. 
 
 But this fonl, grim, and urchin-snouted boar. 
 Whose downward eye still looketh lor a grave, 
 Ne'er .saw the beauteous livery that he wore; 
 Witness the entertainment that he gave; 
 H lie did see his liice, why then I know 
 He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so. 
 
 'Tis true, 'tis true ; thus was Adonis slain ; 
 He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, 
 Who did not whet his teeth at him again, 
 But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; 
 .\iul mizzling in his Hank, the loving swine 
 Sheath d, unaware, the tusk in his soft groin. 
 
 Had I been tooth'd like him I must confess 
 With kissing him 1 should have kill'd him first; 
 But he is dead, and never did he bless 
 My youth with his; the more am I accurst." 
 With this she falleth iu the place she stood. 
 And stains her (iice with his congealed blood. 
 
 She looks upon his lips, and they are pale ; 
 She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; 
 She whispers in his ears a heavy tale, 
 As if they heard the woeful words she told : 
 
 She lifts the cofli;r-lids that close his eyes. 
 
 Wiiere, lo ! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness 
 lies. 
 
 Two glasses, where herself herself beheld 
 
 A thousand times, and now no more rellect; 
 
 Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd, 
 
 And every beauty robb'd of his efl'ect: 
 " Wonder of time," quoth she, "this is my .spite, 
 That you being dead the day should yet be light. 
 
 Since thou art dead, lo ! here I prophesy. 
 Sorrow on love hereatler shall attend ; 
 It shall be wai ted on with jealousy. 
 Find sweet beginning but unsavory end; 
 
 Ne'er settledequally, but high or low ; 
 
 That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe. 
 
 U shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud ; 
 
 Hud and be blasted in a breathing while; 
 
 The Dottom poison, and the top 6'erstraw'd 
 
 With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile 
 The strongest body shall it make most weak. 
 Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak 
 
 H shall be sparing, and too full of riot. 
 Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; 
 The staring rultian shall it keep in quiet, 
 I'liiek down the rich, en rich the poor with triasurcs 
 It shall be raging mad, and silly mild, 
 Make the young old, the old become a child. 
 
 It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; 
 
 It shall not fear where it should most mislrust; 
 
 It shall be merciful, and too severe, 
 
 Antl most deceiving when it seems most Just; 
 
 * Ucauty. 
 
THE TvAPE OP LUCRECE. 
 
 r83 
 
 Perverse it shall br when it seems mont toward, 
 put. fear to valor, courage to the coward. 
 
 It shfiU be cause of war and dire events. 
 
 And set dissension 'iwixt the son and sire ; 
 
 Subject and serviJe to all discontents, 
 
 As dry combustious matter is to fire; 
 Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy, 
 They that love best their love shall not enjoy." 
 
 By this, the boy that by her side lay killM 
 \Va>- ninlted hke a vapor from her sight. 
 And in his blood that on tlie ground lay spill'd, 
 A purple (lower sprung up,chequer"d with white, 
 Resen)bling well his pale cheeks, and the blood 
 Which m round drops upon their whiteness stood. 
 
 She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell, 
 
 Comparing it to her Adonis' breath; 
 
 And says, within her bosom it shall dwell. 
 
 Since he himself is rel^ from her by death : 
 She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears 
 Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. 
 
 "Poor flower," quoth she, "this was thy father's 
 guise, 
 
 f Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire,) 
 
 For every little grief to wet his eyes: 
 
 To grow unto himself was his desire, 
 And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good 
 To wither in my breast as in his blood. 
 
 Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast; 
 Thou art the next of blood, and tis thy right: 
 Lo ! in this hollow cradle take thy rest. 
 My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and 
 night: 
 There shall not be one minute in an hour 
 Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower." 
 
 Thus weary of the world, away she hies, 
 And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid 
 Their mistress mounted, through the empty skies 
 In her light chariot quickly is convey'd. 
 
 Holding their course to Paphos, where their 
 queen 
 
 Means to immure herself, and not be seen. 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, 
 Eaul of Socthampton, and Baron of Titchfield. 
 
 TiiF love I dedicate to your Lordship is -without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is 
 but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honorable disposition, not the worth of my 
 untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. Wiiat I have done is yours, what I have to do is 
 yours; ocing part in all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would show greater: 
 meaniime, as it is, it is bound to your Lordship, to whom I wish long life, stili* lengthened with all 
 happiness. 
 
 Vour Lordship's in all duty, 
 
 William Shakspeare. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Lunus TARQnxirs (for his pxcessive priJe siirnaraed Superbus) after he Lad caused bis own father-in-law. St^rriug 
 Tulliiis. to be cruelly murdi.'rvil. and. contrary to the Itoman laws and customs, not requiring or stayint; for the people's 
 suffrages, bad possessed biniself of the kingdom; went, accompanied with his sons and other noblemen of Home, to 
 bcsie':;e Ardi-a. During which siege, the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus Tar- 
 quiriiup,lhe kinnr's sou, in their discourses after supper, everj' one commended thevirtuesof bis own wife; amon;: whom 
 Coli.Htinus extolled the incomp;irHl>ie chastity of liis wife Lucrece. In that pIc.H=ant humor they all posted to Kuine; 
 and intending, by their secret and sudden arrival, to make trial of that which every one had before avouched, only 
 Cullaiinus finds his wife (though it were late in the night) spinning amongst her maiiis: the other ladies were all 
 found dancing and revelling, or in several disports. ■ Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collitinus the victory, and liis 
 wife the fame. At that time Sextus Tarquinius being inHaraed with Lu.^rece's beauty, yet smothering his passions fur 
 the pie.'^ent, departed with the rest back lo the camp; from whenre he sb-irlly after privily withdrew liimself. and was 
 (according to his estate) royally entertained and lodged by Lucrece at Colla'tium. The same night, he t reach erously 
 Bte.aleth into her chamber, violently ravished her, and e^rly in the morning speedeth aw.iy. Luci'ece, iu this lameut- 
 abU plight hastily despatched messengers, one to Kome fnr her father, another to the camp for Collatiue. They came, 
 the one accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius Valerius; and. finding Lucrece atfired iu mouruing 
 habit, demanded the cause of her sorrow. ?he, first taking an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the actor, and 
 whole manner of his dealing, and withal suddenly stabbed herst-lf. Which done, with one consent they oil vowed to 
 roi)t Ciut the whole hated family of the Tar<^iujns; and, bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted the p<-i>ple 
 with the doer aud manner of the vile deed, with a bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the 
 penple weie so moved, that with one consent and a general acclamation the Tarquios v.erj all exiled, and the stato 
 government changed from kings to consuls. 
 
 From the bosieg'd Ardea all in post, 
 Borne by the trustless win^s of lalse desire. 
 Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host, 
 And to Collatium bears the lightless tire 
 Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire, 
 And frirdle with embracing Hames the waist 
 Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste. 
 
 Haply that name of chaste unhapp'Iy set 
 This bateless edge on his keen appetite; 
 When Collatine unwisely did not let 
 To praise the clear unmatched red and white 
 Which triumph'd in that sky of his deliijht. 
 Where mortalstars.as bright as heaven's beauties 
 With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. 
 
For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, 
 UiilockM the trca.^ure ol'his happy state; 
 What priceless wealth tlie iicavens had him lent 
 In tlie possession ofhis beauteous mate; 
 Keckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate, 
 That kings might be espoused to more fame, 
 But king nor peer to such a peerless dame. 
 
 O happiness enjoy'd but of a few! 
 And, if possess'd, as soon decayed and done 
 As IS the morning's silver-melting dew 
 Against the golden splendor of the sun! 
 An expir'd date, cancel'd ere well begun : 
 Honor and beauty in the owner's arms, 
 Are weakly tbrtress'd from a world of harms. 
 
 Beauty itself doth of itself persuade 
 
 7'he eyes of men without an orator; 
 
 Wiiat needeth then apologies be made 
 
 To set lorth that which is so singular? 
 
 Or why is CoUatine the publisher 
 Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown 
 From thievish ears, because it is his own"! 
 
 perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty 
 Suggested' this proud issue of a king; 
 For by our ears our hearts ott tainted be : 
 Perciiance that envy of so rich a thing. 
 Braving compare, disdainfully did sting 
 
 His nigh-pitch'd thouglits, that meaner men 
 sliould vaunt 
 
 That golden hap which their superiors want. 
 
 But some untimely thought did instigate 
 His all-too-timelcss speed, if none of those: 
 His honor, his allairs, his friends, his stale, 
 Neglected all, with swift intent he goes 
 To quencli the coal which in his liver glows. 
 O rasti-Ialse heat, wrapt in repentant cold. 
 Thy hasty spring fctill blasts, and ne'er grows old ! 
 
 When at Collatium this false lord arrived, 
 Well w'as he welcomM by the Roman dame, 
 Within whose face beamy and virtue strived 
 Wliich olthem both shoukt underprop her fame: 
 Wlieavirruebragg*d,beauty would blush for shame ; 
 When beauty boasted blushes, in despite 
 Virtue would stain tJiat o'er with silver white. 
 
 But beauty, in that white intituled. 
 From Venus' doves dotJi ciiallenge that fair field: 
 Tlieii virtue claims from bt^auty beaut-y's red, 
 W'liicli \irtue gave the golden age, to gild 
 TJieir silver cheeks, and calf'd it then their sliield; 
 Teaching them thus to u.-e it m the light, — 
 When shame assail'd, the red should fence the 
 white. 
 
 Tliis heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen, 
 Argued by beauty's red, and virtue's white: 
 Of cither's color was the other queen. 
 Proving from world's minority their right: 
 Yet their ambition makes them still to fight; 
 The sovereignty of either being so great, 
 Tiiat oft they intercliange each other's seat. 
 
 This silent war of lilies and of roses 
 Wliicii Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, 
 In Iheir pure ranks his traitor eye encloses; 
 W'iiorc, lest between them both it should be kill'd, 
 Tlie coward captive vanqnislied doth yield 
 To those two armies that would let Iiim go, 
 Rather than triumph in so false a foe. 
 
 Now tliinks he that her liusband's shallow tongue 
 (The niggard prodigal that prais'd her so) 
 ill that higli task hath done Iier beauty wrong, 
 Wliieh far exceeds his barren skill to show : 
 Theieibre that praise which CoUatine doth owe, 
 Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, 
 In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes. 
 
 This earthly saint, adored by this devil, 
 LiUle suspi'clclh the lalse worshijiper; 
 For unslain'il thoughts do seldom dream on evil ; 
 Birds never lim'd no secret bushes lear: 
 So guiltless she securely gives good clieer 
 And reverend welcon'ie to her princely guest, 
 Whose inward ill no outward harm cxpress'd: 
 
 For that he color'd with his hi:;h estate. 
 Hiding base sin in phiit-s Dtniiijcsty ; 
 That nettling in him seem'd inordinate, 
 
 Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, 
 Which, having all, all could not satisfy ; 
 But, poorly rich, so wantetli in his store 
 That cloy'd with much he pinelh still for more. 
 
 But she, that never cop'd vrilh stranger eyes. 
 Could pick no meaning from their parling- looks, 
 Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies 
 Writ in the glassy margents of such books ; 
 She touch 'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no 
 hooks, 
 Nor couJd she moralize his wanton sight. 
 More than his eyes were open'd to the light. 
 
 He stories to her ears her husband's fame. 
 
 Won in the lirlds of fruitful Italy; 
 
 And decks wilh praises CoUatine's high name, 
 
 Made glorious by his manly chivalry. 
 
 With bruised arms and wreaths of victory: 
 Her joy with heav'd-up hand she doth express, 
 And, wordless, so greets heaven for iiis success. 
 
 Far from the purpose of his coming thither, 
 He makes excuses for his being there. 
 No cloudy show of stormy blustering wTather 
 Dotli yet in his fair welkin once appear; 
 Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Fear, 
 Upon fhe world dim darkness doth display, 
 And in her vanity prison stows the day. 
 
 For (hen is Tarquin brought unto his bed, 
 Intending^ weariness with heavy spright; 
 For. after supper, long he questioned 
 With modest Lucrece. and wore out the night: 
 Now leaden slumber with lite's strength doth fight 
 And every one to rest himself betakes, 
 Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, that 
 wakes. 
 
 As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving 
 
 The sundry dangers of his will's ohfaimng; 
 
 Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, 
 
 Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstain- 
 ing; 
 
 Despair to gain doth traftic oft for gaining; 
 And when great treasure is the meed proposed, 
 Tho' death be adjunet,there's no death supposed. 
 
 Those that much covet are with gain so fond 
 That what they have not, that which the}- possess 
 Thej- scatter and unloose it from their bond. 
 And so, by hoping more, they have but less ; • 
 Or, gaining more, the profit of excess 
 
 Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain. 
 
 That they prove bankru])t in this poor-rich gain. 
 
 The aim of all is but to nurse the life 
 W^ilh honor, wealtli. and ease, in waning age; 
 And in this aim there is such thwarting strife, 
 That one for all, or all lor one we gage ; 
 As hfe tor honor, in f(?ll battle's rage ; 
 Honor for wealtli ; and oft that wealth doth co^t 
 The death of all, and all together lost. 
 
 So that in vent'ring ill we leave to be 
 The things we are, for that which we expect 
 And this ambitious foul infirmity, 
 In having much, torments us with defect 
 Of that we have; so tlieii we do neglect 
 The thing we have, and, all tor want of wit, 
 Make something nothing, by augmenting it. 
 
 Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, 
 Pawning his honor to obtain his hist; 
 And for himself himself he must forsake: 
 Then where is trutli iJthere be no self-trust] 
 When shall he tliink to find a stranger just. 
 When he hiniseU' himself conlbunds. betrays 
 To slariderous tongues, and wretched nateful 
 daj s ] 
 
 Now stole upon the lime the dead of night, 
 When hea\ \ sleeji had clos'd up mortal eyes; 
 No comli)rlal>!e sl;ir did lend his light, 
 No noii^e hut owls' :ind wolves' dealh-botHng cries: 
 Now serves Ilie season that tliey may surprise 
 The silly lambs; pure thoughts are'dead and still. 
 While lust and murder wake to stain and kill. 
 
 And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed, 
 Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm; 
 Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; 
 
 iflM'ukiiig. ■ Pretending. 
 
THE EAPE OF LUCKECE. 
 
 785 
 
 Til' one sweetly fiatt^rs, th* other foareth harm ; 
 
 But honest Fear, hewitch'd with lust's foul cJiarm, 
 Doth too too ol\ belalvo him to retire. 
 Beaten away by brain-sick rude Desire. 
 
 His falciiion on a flint he softly smiteth, 
 That trom the coM stone sparks of tire do fly. 
 Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lij;hteth, 
 Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; 
 And to the llame thus speaks advised'Iy; 
 "As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, 
 So Lucrecc must I force to my desire." 
 
 Here pale with fear he doth premeditate 
 The dangers of his loathsome « nterprise, 
 And in his inward mind lie doth debate 
 What Ibliowing sorrow may on this arise; 
 Then looking scorniully. tie doth despise 
 His naked armor of still-slaughter'd lust. 
 And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust: 
 
 , "Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not 
 ' To darken iier whose light excelleth thine! 
 And die unhallow'd thoughts, before you blot 
 With your uncleanness that which is divine! 
 Oiler pure incense to so pure a shrine: 
 Let fair humanity abhor the deed 
 TJiat spots and stains love's modest snow-white 
 weed.-* 
 
 O shame to knighthood and to shining arms! 
 
 O foul dishonor to my liousehold's grave ! 
 
 O impious act, including all foul harms! 
 
 A martial man to be soil fancy's slave I 
 
 True vaior still a true respect should have; 
 Then my digression Is so vile, so base, 
 That it will live engraven in my face. 
 
 Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, 
 
 And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; 
 
 Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive, 
 
 'io cipher me how fondly I did dote; 
 
 That my posterity, shamed with the note. 
 Shall curse mj' hones, and hold it for no sin 
 To wish that 1 their liither had not been. 
 
 What win I if I gain the thing I seek ? 
 
 A dream* a breath, a froth of fleeting joy : 
 
 Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week T 
 
 Or sells eternity, to get a toy ? 
 
 l-'or one sweet grape who will tlie vine destroy? 
 Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown. 
 Would with the sceptre straight be slrucken 
 down I 
 
 If Collatinus dream of my intent 
 Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage 
 Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent ? 
 This siege that halh engirt his marriage, 
 This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage, 
 This dying virtue, this surviving shame. 
 Whose crime will bear an ever-'during blame! 
 
 O what excuse can my invention make 
 When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed ? 
 Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake 1 
 Mine eyes tbrego their light, my false heart bleed 1 
 The guilt being great the fear doth still exceed; 
 And extreme tear can neither light nor dy, 
 But coward-like with trembling terror die. 
 
 Had Collatinus Kill'd my son or sire, 
 Or lain in ambush to betray my life, 
 Or were he not my dear friend, this desire 
 Might have excuse to work upon his wife; 
 As in revenge or quiltal of such strife: 
 But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend. 
 The shame and fault linds no excuse nor end. 
 
 Shameful it is ; — ay, if the fact be known: 
 Hateful it w;— there is no hate in loving: 
 I'll beg her love : — hut she i? tiot her own ; 
 The worst is but denial, and rej)roving : 
 My will is strong, past reason's weak removing. 
 Who fears a sentence or au old man's saw 
 Shall by a painted clolli be kept in awe." 
 
 Thus, graceless, holds he disputation 
 'X^^'eeii frozen conscience and liol-burning will, 
 And with good thoughts makes dispensation, 
 Urging the worser sense for vantage still; 
 Which in a moment doth conlbund and kiU 
 « Garment. 
 
 50 
 
 All pure ellects, and doth so far proceed, 
 That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed. 
 
 Quoth lie, " Shq took me kindly by the hand, 
 
 And gazu lor tidings in my eager eyes. 
 
 Fearing some hard news from the warlike band 
 
 Where iur bclovea Collatinus lies. 
 
 O how her tear did make her color rise ! 
 First red as roses that on lawn we lay. 
 Then white as lawn, the roses took awaj*. 
 
 And how lier hand, in mv hand being locked, 
 
 Forced it to tremble witli her loyal fear! 
 
 Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd, 
 
 Until her hnsl.iaiid\< wellare she did hear; 
 
 Whereat slie smiled with so sweet a cheer. 
 That had Narcissus seen her as she stood. 
 Self-love had never diOwnM him in the flood 
 
 Why hunt I then for color or excuses? 
 
 All orators arc dumb when beauty pleadcth ; 
 
 poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses; 
 
 Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth* 
 
 Aifection is my captain, and he Icadeth ; 
 And when his gaudy banner is disphiy'tl, 
 The coward hghts, and will not be dis'may'd. 
 
 Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating, die ! 
 Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age! 
 My heart shall never countermand mine eye : 
 Sacl pause and deep regard beseem the sage : 
 My part is youth, and beats these from the stage: 
 
 Pesire my pilot is, beauty my prize; 
 
 Then who lears sinking wiiere such treasure liesl" 
 
 As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear 
 
 Is almost chf)k'd by unresisted lust. 
 
 Away he steals with open listening ear. 
 
 Full of foul hope, and full of forvd "mistrust; 
 
 Both which, as servitors to the unjust, 
 So cross him with their opposite persuasion. 
 That now lie vows a league, and now invasion. 
 
 Williin his thought her heavenly image si Irs, 
 And in the self-same seat sits CoUatine : 
 That eye which looks on her confounds his wits ; 
 That eye which him beholds, as more divine, 
 Unto a view so false will not incline ; 
 Hut with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, 
 Wliich once corrupted takes the worser part; 
 
 And therein heartens up his servile powers. 
 Who, flatlcr'd by their leader's jocund show, 
 Stulfup his lust, as minutes till up hours; 
 And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, 
 Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. 
 By reprobate desire thus madly led. 
 The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed. 
 
 The locks between her chamber and his will. 
 Each one by him enforced, retires his ward ; 
 But as they open they all rate his ill. 
 Which drives the creeping thief to some regard ; 
 The threshold grates the door to have him heard ; 
 
 Night-wand'rini^ weasels shriek to see him there; 
 
 Tiiey fright him, yet he still pursues his fear. 
 
 As each unwilling portal yields him way. 
 Through liltle vents and crannies of the place 
 The wind wars with his torch, to make him stay. 
 And blows the smoke of it into his lace, 
 Kxtinguishing his conduct^ in this case; 
 But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch, 
 Puffs (brth another wind that tires the torch: 
 
 And being lighted, by the light he spies 
 Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks; 
 He takes it from the rushes where it lies; 
 And griping it, the neeld& his t^.nger pricks : 
 As who sJiould say, this glove to wanton tricks 
 
 Is not inur'd ; return again in haste ; 
 
 Thou seest our mistress* ornaments are chaste. 
 
 But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him ; 
 
 He 111 the worst sense construes their denial ; 
 
 The doors, the wind, the glove that did delay him, 
 
 He takes for accidental things of trial ; 
 
 Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial. 
 Who with a ling'ring stay his course doth let, 
 Till every minute pays the hour his debt. 
 
 " So, so," quoth he, " these lets attend (he time. 
 Like little frosts that sometime thr at the springy 
 « Conductor. 6 Keedle-. 
 
780 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 To add a more rejoicing; to the prime, 
 
 And sive the siieaped'' birds more cause to sing. 
 
 Tain pays the income of eacli precious thin^ ; 
 
 Hu^c rocks, hitch winds, strong pirate;:^, shelves 
 and sands. 
 
 The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands." 
 
 Now is ho come imto the chamber door 
 Tliat sliuts him from the heaven of his thought, 
 AVliich wilti a yieldini; latch, and with no more, 
 ilath barr'd him from Ihc blessed thing he sought. 
 So from himself impiety hath wrought, 
 That for bisprcy to pray he doth begin. 
 As if the heaven should countenance his sin. 
 
 But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer, 
 
 Huvimr solicited the eternal power. 
 
 That his toul thoughts might compass his fair fair, 
 
 And they would stand auspicious to the hour. 
 
 Kven there he starts: — qpnjh he,*'I mustdellowcr; 
 The powers to vdiom I pray abhor this lact, 
 How can tJiey then assist me in tlie act 1 
 
 Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide! 
 
 My will is back'd witJi resohiliou: 
 
 Thou^ihts are but dreams till their elTects be tried, 
 
 Tiie blackest sin is clear'd with absolutmn; 
 
 Against love's lire, fear's frost hath dissolution. 
 The eye of heaven is out. and misty lut^ht 
 Covers the shame that follows sweet delight." 
 
 This said, liis guilty hand pluck'd up Ihc latch, 
 And witii his knee the door he opens wide : 
 Tlie dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch: 
 Thus treason works ere traitors be esi»ied. 
 Wiio sees the lurkuig serpent steps aside ; 
 But she. sound sleeping, fearing no sucii thing, 
 Lies at the mercy of Jiis mortal sting. 
 
 Into the chamber wickedly he stalks. 
 And ga/.cth on her yet unstained bed. 
 Fhe curtains being close, about he walks, 
 Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head : 
 By their high treason is his heart misled; 
 
 Winch gives tlie watcli-word to his hand full 
 soon. 
 
 To draw tlie cloud that hides the silver moon. 
 
 Look, as the fair and tiery-poinled sun, 
 Rusliing from fortli a cloud, bereaves our sight; 
 Kven so, tlie curtain drawn, his eyes begun 
 To wink, being blinded with a greater light : 
 Wlielhcr it is that she redects so bright. 
 
 That dazzleth them, or else some sliame sup- 
 posed ; 
 
 But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed. 
 
 O, had tlioy in that darksome prison died, 
 Then had they seen the period of their ill! 
 Then CoUatine again by Lucrece' side 
 In his clear bed might nave reposed still : 
 But they must ope, this blessed league to kilt; 
 And holy-fhoughted Lucrece to their sight 
 Must sell her joy, her lil^.^ her world's delight. 
 
 Her lily hand her rosy check lies under. 
 
 Cozening the pillow ofa lawful kiss; 
 
 Who thcrelbre angry, seems to part in sunder, 
 
 Swelling on either side to want his bliss ; 
 
 Between whose hills her Jiead entombed is : 
 Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, 
 To be admir'd of lewd unhaliow'd eyes. 
 
 Without tlic bed her other fiur hand was, 
 fhi the green coverlet; whose perfect white 
 Show'd like an April daisy on the grass, 
 With pearly sweat, resembling dew nf utght. 
 Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light, 
 And canopied in darkness sweetly lay. 
 Till they might open to adorn the day 
 
 Her hair, like golden threads, play*d with her 
 
 breath ; 
 O modest wantons! wanton modesty ! 
 Showing life's triumph in the map of death 
 And death's dim look in life's mortality: 
 Each in her sleep themselves so beautify, 
 As if between tbcin twain tliere were no strife, 
 But that iile hvM in deatJi, and death in life. 
 
 Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, 
 .•\ pair of maiden worlds unconquercd, 
 
 » Chec];ea. 
 
 Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew, 
 
 And him by oath they truly-honored. 
 
 Tliese worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred: 
 Who like a foul usurper went about 
 From this fair throne to heave tJie owner out. 
 
 What could he see but mightily he noted ? 
 
 What did lie note but strongly he desired 1 
 
 What he beheld on that he firmly doted, 
 
 And in his wdl his wilful eye he tired. 
 
 Wilh more than admiration he admired 
 Her azure veins, her alabaster skin, 
 Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. 
 
 As the grim lion fawneth oVr his prey, 
 
 Sl>arp hunger by the conquest satisiied, 
 
 So oVr this sleeping soul doth Tnrquin stay, 
 
 His rage of lust by gazing qualilled ; 
 
 Slack a, not suppfcssM ; for standing by her side, 
 
 His eye, which late this mutiny restrains, 
 
 Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins. 
 And they, like straggling slaves for pillage lighting," 
 Obdurate vassalB, fell exploits effecting, 
 In bloody death and ravishment delightinir, 
 Nor children's tears, nor mother's groans respect- 
 ing. 
 Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting : 
 
 Anon his beating heart, alarum striking. 
 
 Gives the hot cliarge, and bids them do their 
 liking. 
 
 His drumming lieart cheers up his burning eye, 
 His eye commends the leading to his hand ; 
 His hand, as proud of such a dignity. 
 Smoking with pride, niarch'd on to make his stand 
 On her bare breast, the heart of all her land ; 
 Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale, 
 Lett their round turrets destitute and pale. 
 
 They, mustering to the quiet cabinet 
 Whera their dear governess and lady lies. 
 Do tell lier she is dreadfully beset. 
 And fright her with confusion of their cries : 
 Slie. much ainaz'd, breaks ope her iock'd-up eyes, 
 Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold. 
 Are by his llamiug torch dimm'd and foiitroll'd 
 
 Imagine her as one in dead of night 
 From tbrth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, 
 That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite, 
 Whose grim aspect sets every joint a shaking ; 
 What terror 'tis ? but she, in worser taking, 
 From sleep disturbed, lieedfully doth vievv^ 
 Tiie sight which makes supposed terror true. 
 
 Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, 
 Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies ; 
 She dares not look; yet, winking, tliere a])pcars 
 Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes : 
 Such shadows are the weak brain's Ibrgeries ; 
 Wlio. angry that the eyes fly from tlieir lights, 
 In darkness daunts them with more dreadfUl 
 sights. 
 
 His hand, that vet remains upon her breast, 
 (Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall I) 
 May leel her heart, poor citizen ! distressed, 
 Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall. 
 Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. 
 This moves in him more ruge, and lesser pity, 
 To make tiie breach, and enter this sweet city. 
 
 First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin 
 To sound a parley to his heartless Ibe, 
 Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin, 
 The reason of this rash alarm to know, 
 Which lie by dumb demeanor se('ks to show ; 
 But she with vehement prayers uriielh still 
 Under what color he commits tliis ill. 
 
 Thus he replies; "The color in thy face 
 (That even tor anger makes the Ijly pale, 
 And the red rose blusii at her own disgrace) 
 Slmil pinad tor me. and tell my loving tale; 
 Under that color am 1 come to scale 
 Thy never-conquerVI liirt ; the fiult is thine, 
 For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine. 
 
 Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide ; 
 Thy beauty hath ensnar'd thee to this night, 
 Where thou with patience must my will abide. 
 My will that marks thee for my earth's delight, 
 Which I to coiKiucr sought wilh ail my might 
 
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 7S7 
 
 But as reproof and reason beat it dead. 
 By tliy bri;;lit beauty was it newly bred. 
 
 I see wiiat crosses ray attempt will bring ; 
 
 1 know what thorns the growing rose delends ; 
 
 I think the honey guarded with a sting ; 
 
 All this, beforehand, counsel comprehends; 
 
 Uut will is deal', and hears no heedful Iriends; 
 Ocdv he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, 
 And dotes on what he looks, ganist law or duty. 
 
 I have debated, even in my soul, 
 
 What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall 
 
 breed ; 
 But nothing can AfTection s course control. 
 Or stop the headlong fury of his speed. 
 1 know repentant tears ensue the deed, 
 
 lleproaeh, disdain, and deadly enniitY,; 
 
 Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy. 
 
 This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, 
 Which, like a laleon towering in the skies, 
 Coueheth tlie fowl below with his wings shade. 
 Whose crooked beak threats if he mount he dies: 
 So under his insulting falchion lies 
 Harmle.-s Lucietia, marking what he tells. 
 With trembling fear, as fowl hear lalcons' bells 
 
 "Lucrece," quoth he, "this night I must enjoy 
 
 thee : 
 If thou deny, then force must work my way. 
 For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee; _ 
 That done, some worthless slave of thine 1 11 slay, 
 To kill thine honor with thy life's decay; 
 And in thy dead arms do 1 mean to place him. 
 Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him. 
 
 So thy surviving husband shall remain 
 
 The scornful mark of every open eye ; 
 
 Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain, 
 
 Thy issue bhirr'd with nameless bastardy: 
 
 And tliou, the author of their obloquy, 
 Shall have Ihy trespass cited up in rhymes, 
 And sung by children in succeeding times. 
 
 But if thou yield I rest thy secret friend: 
 The limit uiiknown is as a thought unacted; 
 A little harm, done to a great good end, 
 I'or lawful policy remains enacted. 
 Tie poisonous simple sometimes is compjicted 
 
 In a pure compound ; being so applied, 
 
 His venom in ellect is puritied. 
 
 Then for lliy husband and thy cliildren's sake. 
 Tender my suit: bequeath not to their lot 
 The shame that from them no device can take, 
 The blemish that will never be Ibrgot ; 
 Worse than a slavish wipe, or birth-hour s blot: 
 VoT marks descried in men's nativity 
 Are nature's faults, not their own infamy." 
 
 Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye. 
 
 He rouseth up himself, and makes a pause. 
 
 While she, the picture of pure piety. 
 
 Like a white hind under the grype's sharp claws. 
 
 Pleads in a wilderness, where are no laws. 
 
 To the rough beast that knows no gentle right. 
 Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite: 
 
 Look, when a black-faced cloud the world doth 
 
 tlircat. 
 In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding, 
 From earth's dark womb some gentle gust doth get. 
 Which blows these pitchy vapors tiom their biding. 
 Hindering their present lirll by tliis dividing; 
 So his unhallow'd haste her words delays. 
 And moody I'luto winlcs while Orpheus plays. 
 
 Yet, Ibul nighf^waking cat, lie dolh but dally. 
 While in his holdliist loot the weak mouse jwnteth; 
 Her sad behavior li?eds his vulture folly, 
 A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth : 
 His ear her prayers admits, but liis heart granteth 
 No penetrable entrance to her plaining : 
 Tears harden lust, though marble wear with 
 raining. 
 
 Her pity-pleading eyes .are sadly fixed 
 In the remorseless wrinkles of his liice; 
 Her modest eloquence with sighs is mixed, 
 VVhieh to her oratory adds more grace. 
 She puts the period often from his place. 
 And 'midst the sentence so her accent breaks. 
 That twice she dolh begin ere once she speaks. 
 
 She c.'injures him by high almighty Jove, ^ 
 l!y knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship s oath 
 liy her untimely tears, her husband s love, 
 liv holy human laws, and common troth. 
 By heaven and earth, and all the power of both. 
 That to His borrow'd bed he make retire, 
 And stoop to honor, not to Ibul desire. 
 
 Quoth she, " reward not hospitality 
 With such black payment as thou hast pretended; 
 Mud not the tbuntain that gave drink to thee ; 
 Mar not the tiling that cannot be amended; 
 End thy ill aim. belbre thy shoot be end>'d : 
 
 Ho is no woodman that doth bend his bow 
 
 To strike a poor unseasonable doe. 
 
 My husband is thy friend, for his sake spare me; 
 
 Thyself art mighty, for thine own sake leave me; 
 
 Myself a weakling, do not then ensnare me; 
 
 Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive nic ; 
 
 My sighs, like whirlwinds, labor hence to heave 
 thee. , 
 
 If ever man were mov'd with woman s moans, 
 Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans: 
 
 All which together, like a troubled ocean, 
 Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threatening heart. 
 To solien it with their continual motion ; 
 For stones dissolv'd to water do convert. 
 0. if no harder than a stone thou art. 
 
 Melt at my tears and be compassionate ! 
 
 Soil pity enters at an iron gale. 
 
 In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain liiee: 
 Hast thou put on his shape to do him shamel 
 To all the host of heaven I complain nie. 
 Thou wrong'st his honor, wound'st his princely 
 
 name. 
 Thou art not what thou seem st; and if the same 
 
 Thou seem'sl not what thou art, a god, a king; 
 
 For kings like gods should govern every thing. 
 
 How will thy shame be seeded in thine age. 
 When thus thy vices bud belore Ihy sjiring! 
 If in thy hope thou dar'st do sueli outrage. 
 What dar'st thou not when once thouart a king! 
 O be remember'd no outrageous thing 
 
 From vassal actors can be wiped away ; 
 
 Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay. 
 
 This deed will make thee only lov'd for fear. 
 But happy monarchs still are fear'd lor love: 
 With Ibul oH'enders thou perforce must bear, 
 When they in thee the like ollences prove : 
 If but lor It'ar of this Ihy will remove; 
 For princes are the glass, the school, the book. 
 Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look. 
 
 And wilt thou be the school where Lustshall learn ! 
 
 Must he in thee read lectures of such shame! 
 
 Will thou be glass, wherein it shall discern 
 
 Autiiority for sin, warrant for blame. 
 
 To privilege dishonor in thy name ! 
 Thou back'st reproach against long-lived laud. 
 And mak'st liiir reputation but a bawd. 
 
 Hast thou command? by him that gave it thee. 
 From a pure heart command thy rebel will : 
 Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity. 
 For it was lent thee all thai brood to kill. 
 Thy princely odiee how canst thou fulfil. 
 When, pattern'd by thy fault, Ibul Sin may say. 
 He learn'd to sin, and thou didst teach the' way ! 
 
 Think but how vile a spectacle it were 
 To view thy present trespass in another: 
 Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear; 
 Their own transgressions partially they smother: 
 This guilt would seem death-worthy in thy brother. 
 O how are thev wraj'p'd in with infamies. 
 That from tlieir own misdeeds askaunce their 
 eyes ! 
 
 To thee, to thee, my heav'd-up h,inds appeal, 
 
 Not to seducing lusl, thy rash reher; 
 
 1 sue for exil'd majesty's repeal ; 
 
 Let him return, aiid llatlering thoughts retire : 
 
 His true respect will 'prison iiilse desire. 
 
 And wipe the dim mist from thy doling eyne. 
 
 That thou shall see thy state, and pity mine." 
 
 " Have done," quoth he; "my uncontrolled tide 
 Turns not. but swells the higher by this let. 
 Small lights are soon blown out, huge fires abide, 
 
rss 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 And with the wind in greater fury fret: 
 The petty streams that jiay a daily detit 
 To their salt sovereign, witlitlicir fresh tails' haste, 
 Add to his flow, but alter not his taste." 
 
 "Thou art," quoth she, "a sea, a sovereign king; 
 And lo, there talis into thy boundless Hood 
 lllack lust, dishonor, shame, misgoverning. 
 Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood. 
 If all these petty ills shall change thy good. 
 Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hersed, 
 And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed. 
 
 So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave ; 
 
 Thou nobly base, they basely dignihed; 
 
 Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave; 
 
 Thou loathed in their shame, they in thy pride; 
 
 The lesser thing should not the greater hide; 
 The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's tijot, 
 But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root. 
 
 So let thy thoughts, low vassals to tliy state" — 
 "No more," quoth he, " by heaven, 1 will not hear 
 
 thee : 
 Yield to my lo/e; if not, enforced hate, 
 instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear thee; 
 That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee 
 Unto the base bed of some rascal groom. 
 To be thy partner in this shameful doom." 
 
 Thus said, he sets the foot upon the light, 
 For light and lust are deadly enemies : 
 Shame folded up in blind concealing night. 
 When most unseeii, then most doth tyrannize. 
 The wolf hath seiz'd his prey, the poor lamb cries. 
 Till with her own whi to lleeee her voice controUd 
 Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet Ibid : 
 
 For with the nightly linen that she wears 
 lie pens her piteous clamors in her head ; 
 Cooling his hot foce in the chastest tears 
 That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed. 
 O, that prone lust should stain so pure a bed! 
 The spots whereof could weeping purify. 
 Her tears should drop on them perpetually. 
 
 But she hath lost a dearer thing than life. 
 And he hath won what he would lose aKain. 
 This forced league doth force a further sinic, 
 This momentary joy breeds months of pain. 
 This hot desire converts to cold disdain: 
 I'ure Chastity is rilled of her store. 
 And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before. 
 
 Look as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk, 
 Unapt lor tender smell or speedy flight. 
 Make slow pursuit, or altogether balk 
 The prey wherein by nature they delight; 
 So sur/tMt-taking Tarquin fares this night: 
 His taste delicious, in diiiestion souring. 
 Devours his will that liv'd by foul devouring. 
 
 O deeper sin than bottomless conceit 
 
 Can comprehend in still imagination ! 
 
 Drunken desire must vomit his receipt. 
 
 Ere he can see his own abomination. 
 
 VVIiilc lust is in his pride, no exclamation 
 Can curb his heat, or rein his rash desire, 
 Till, like a jade, self-will himself doth tire. 
 
 And then with lank and lean discolor'd cheek. 
 With heavy eye, knit brow, and strcngthless pace, 
 Keeble desire, all recreant, poor, and meek. 
 Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case : 
 The tlesh being proud, desire dolh fight with grace. 
 For there it revels ; and when that decays, 
 The guilty rebel for remission prays. 
 
 So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome, 
 Who this accomplishment so hotly chased ; 
 For now against himself he sounds this doom. 
 That through the length of limes he stands dis- 
 graced : 
 Besides, his soul'." fair temple is defaced ; 
 To whose weak ruin muster troops of cares, 
 To ask the spotted princess how she fares. 
 
 She says, her subjects with foul insurrection 
 llaVe batter d down her consecrated wall 
 And by their mortal fault brought in subjection 
 Her immorlality, and make her thrall 
 To living death, and pain perpetual : 
 Which in her prescience she controlled still 
 Hut her foresight cculd not forestall their will. 
 
 Even in this thought through the dark night In 
 
 stealeth, 
 A captive victor that hath lost in gain ; 
 Hearing away the wound that nothing hcaleth, 
 The scar that will, despite of cure, remain. 
 Leaving his spoil perplex'd in greater pain. 
 She bears the load of lust he lell behind, 
 And he the burthen of a guilty mind. 
 
 He like a thievish dog creeps sadlj^ thence ; 
 She like a wearied lamb lies panting there: 
 He scowls, and hates himself lor his otience, 
 She, desperate, with her nails her llesh doth tear; 
 He faintly flies, sweating with guilty tear; 
 
 She stays, exclaiming on the ilirel'ul night ; 
 
 He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loath'd delight 
 
 He thence departs a heavy ^onvertite. 
 She there remains a hopeless castaway; 
 lie in his speed looks lor the morning light; 
 She prays she never may behold the day: 
 " For day," quoth she, " n'ight'sscapcs doth openlay 
 And my true eyes have never practis'd how 
 To cloak oilences with a cunning brow. ■ 
 
 They think not but that every eye can see 
 The same disgrace which they themselves behold, 
 And therefore would they still in darkness be, 
 To have their unseen sin remain untold ; 
 For they their guilt with wec))iiig will unfold. 
 And grave, like water, that doth eat in steel. 
 Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel." 
 
 PJere she exclaims against repose and rest, 
 And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind. 
 She wakes her heart by beating on her breast. 
 And bids it leap from iheiice, where it may And 
 Some purer chest, to close so pure a mind. 
 Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth her spite 
 Against the unseen secrecy of night: 
 
 "O comfort-killing night, image of hell! 
 
 Dim register and notary of shame ! 
 
 Black stage for tragedies and murders fell ! 
 
 \'ast sin-concealing chaos! nurse of blame '. 
 
 Blind muflled bawd! dark harbor for defame! 
 Cum cave of death, whispering consjiiralor 
 With close-tongucd treason and the ravishcr! 
 
 O hateful, vaporous, and foggy night. 
 Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime. 
 Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light. 
 Make war against proportion'd course ol'timc! 
 (Jr if thou wilt permit the sun to climb 
 His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed. 
 Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head. 
 
 With rotten damps ravish the morning air; 
 Let their exhal'd unwholesome breaths make sick 
 The life of purity, the supreme fair. 
 Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide j>rick;S 
 And let thy misty vapors march so thick. 
 That in their smoky ranks his smother'd light 
 Way set at noon, aiid make jicrpetual night. 
 
 Were Tarquin night, (as he is but night's child,) 
 The siher-shiniiig queen he would, distain; 
 Her tuinkliuLC handmaids too, by him delil'd. 
 Through night's black bosom should not peep again; 
 So should I have copartners in my pain: 
 And fellowship in woe doth woe .assuage. 
 As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage. 
 
 Where' now I have no one to blush with me. 
 To cross their arms, and hang their heads with mine, 
 To mask their brows, and hide their intiimy; 
 But I alone alone must sit and pine. 
 Seasoning the earth with showers of silver brine. 
 Mingling my talkwith tears.my griefwith groans, 
 Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans. 
 
 O night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke, 
 Let not the jealous day behold that liice 
 Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloak 
 Immodestly lies martyr'd with disgrace! 
 Keep still possession of thy gloomy place. 
 That all the faults which in thy reign are nado 
 May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade ! 
 
 Make me not object to the talc-tell day ! 
 The night will show, charijcler'd in my brow. 
 The story of sweet chastity's decay. 
 The impious breach of holy wedlock vow: 
 • The point of noon. » \Vheri«s- 
 
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 780 
 
 Fea, the illiterate, that know not how 
 To 'cipher what is writ in learned books, 
 Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks. 
 
 The nurse, to still her child, will tell my story. 
 And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name; 
 Tlie orator, to deck his oratory. 
 Will couple my reproach to Tarquin's shame: 
 Feast-tinding minstrels, tuning my defame, 
 Will tie the hearers to attend each line. 
 How Tarquin wronged me, 1 Collatine. 
 
 Let my good name, that senseless reputation, 
 >'or CoUatine's dear love be kept unspotted : 
 If that be made a tlieme for disputation. 
 The branches of another root are rotted, 
 And undeserv'd reproach to him allotted. 
 That is as clear from tliis attaint of mine, 
 As I, ere this, was pure to Collatine. 
 
 unseen shame ! invisible disgrace ! 
 unfclt sore ! crest-wounding, private scar! 
 Keproach is slamp'd in CoUatinus' tiice, 
 And Tarquin's eye may read the mot' afar, 
 How he in peace is wounded, not in war. 
 Alas, how many bear such stiameful blows. 
 Which not themselves but he tliat gives them 
 knows ! 
 
 If, Collatine, thine honor lay in me. 
 From me by strong assault it is bereft. 
 My honey lost, and I, a drone-lilie bee. 
 Have no perfection of my summer lell. 
 But robb'd and ransack'd by injurious theft: 
 In thy weak hive a wandering wasp hath crept. 
 And suck'd tlie honey which tfiy chaste bee kept. 
 
 Vet I am guilty of thy honor's wrack; 
 Yet Ibr thy honor did I ciiterlaiii him ; 
 Coming from thee, I could not put him batk, 
 For it had been dishonor to disdain him : 
 Besides of weariness he did complain him. 
 And talk'd of virtue;— (), unlook'd for evil, 
 When virtue is profan'd In such a devil ! 
 
 Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud] 
 Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows' nests .' 
 Or toads infect fair fouiils with venom mud ! 
 Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts? 
 Or kings be breakers of llieir own behests? 
 But no perfection is so absolute. 
 That some impurity doth not pollute. 
 
 The aged man that colTers up his gold. 
 Is plagued with cramps. and gouts.and painful flts. 
 And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold, 
 But like still-pining Tantalus he sits, 
 And useless barns the harvest of his wits; 
 Having no other i>!easure of his gain 
 But torment that it cannot cure his pain. 
 
 So then he hath it when he cannot use it. 
 And leaves it to be master'd by his young. 
 Who in their pride do presently abuse it : 
 Their father was too weak, and they too strong, 
 To hold their cursed-blessed fortune long. 
 The sweets we wish lor turn to loathed sours, 
 Even in the moment that we call them ours. 
 
 Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring; 
 Unwholesome weeds take root with precious 
 
 (lowers; 
 The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing ; 
 What virtue breeds iniquity devours : 
 We have no good that we can say is ours, 
 
 But ill-annexed Opportunity 
 
 Or kills his life, or else his quality. 
 
 O Opportunity ! thy guilt is great : 
 
 'Tis thou that execut'st the traitor's treason ; 
 
 Thou set'st the wolf where he thelamb may get; 
 
 Whoever plots the sin, thou point'st the season; 
 
 'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason; 
 And in tliy shady cell, where none may spy him, 
 Sits Sin, to seize the souls that wander by him. 
 
 Thou mak'st the vestal violate her oath ; 
 
 Thou blow'st the fire wiien temperance is thaw'd; 
 
 Thou smother'st honesty, thou murther'st troth; 
 
 Thou foul abettor! Ihou notorious bawd! 
 
 Thou plantest scandal, and displacest laud : 
 Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou firlse thief, 
 Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief! 
 ' JIutto. 
 
 Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, 
 
 Thy private feasting to a public fast; 
 
 Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name; 
 
 Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood taste : 
 
 Tiiy violent vanities can never last. 
 How comes it, then, vile Opportunity 
 Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee ? 
 
 When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend, 
 And bring him wiiere his suit may be obtain'd 1 
 When wilt tliou sort an hour great strifes to end ? 
 Or free that soul which wretchedness hath ehain'd] 
 Give physic to the sick, ease to the pain'd ! 
 The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee, 
 But [hey ne'er meet with Opportunity. 
 
 The patient dies while the physician sleeps; 
 
 The orphan pines while the oppressor feeds; 
 
 Justice is li'asting while the widow weeps ; 
 
 Advice is sporting while infection breeds; 
 
 Tliou grant'st no time for charitable deeds: 
 Wraih. envy, treason, rape, and murder's rages, 
 Thy heinous hours wait on them as their pages 
 
 When truth and virtue have to do with thee, 
 A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid ; 
 Tliey buy thy Jiolp ; but Sin ne'er gives a fee, 
 He gratis comes; and thou art well appay'd 
 As well to Ijear as grant what he hath said. 
 My Collatine would else have come to me 
 When Tarquin did, but he was stay'd by thee. 
 
 Guilty thou art of murder and of theft; 
 
 Guilty of perjury and subornation ; 
 
 Guilty of treason, Ibrgery, and shill; 
 
 Guilty of incest, that abomination: 
 
 An accessarj- by thine inclination 
 To all sins past, and all that are to come. 
 From the creation to the general doom. 
 
 Misshajien Time, copesmale of ugly night. 
 Swill subtle jiost, carrier of grisly care ; 
 Eater of youlh, false slave to false delight. 
 Base watch of woes, sin's pack-horse, virtue's snare; 
 Tliou nursest all, and murtherest all that arc. 
 
 hear me then, injurious, shifting Time ! 
 Be guilty of my death, since of my crime. 
 
 Why hath thy servant. Opportunity, 
 Betray 'd the hours thou gav'st me to repose? 
 Cancell'd my Ibrlunes, and enchained me 
 To endless date of never-ending woes? 
 Time's ollice is to line- the hate of foes ; 
 To eat uj) errors by opinion bred. 
 Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed. 
 
 Time's glory is to calm contending kings. 
 To unmask lalsehood. and bring truth to light. 
 To stamp the seal ol' lime in aged things. 
 To wake the morn, and sentinel tbe night, 
 To wrong the wronger till he render right; 
 To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours. 
 And siiu^ar with dust their glittering golden 
 towers: 
 
 To fill with worm-holes stately monuments. 
 To feed oblivion with decay of things. 
 To blot old books, and alter their contents. 
 To pluck the quills li^om ancient ravens' wings. 
 To dry the old oak's sap, and cherish springs ;3 
 To spoil antiquilies of haininer'd steel. 
 And turn the giddy round of Fortune's wheel: 
 
 To show the beldame daughters of her daughter. 
 To make the child a man, tlie man a child. 
 To slay the tiger lliat doth live by slaughter. 
 To tame the unicorn and lion wild ; 
 To mork tin- subtle, in Ihemselves beguil'd ; 
 To cheer the plougJiman with increaseful crops, 
 And waste huge stones with little water-drox^s. 
 
 Why work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage. 
 Unless Ihou could'st return lo make amends ? 
 One poor retiring minute in an age 
 Would purchase thee a thou.sand thousand friends, 
 Lending him wit, that to bad debtors lends : 
 0, this dread night, would'st thou one hour come 
 back, 
 
 1 could prevent this storm, and shun this wrack! 
 
 Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity. 
 
 With some mischance cross Tarquin in his flight: 
 
 » To biiug an end. 
 
 a Shoots, saplings. 
 
790 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 Devise extremes beyond extremity, 
 To niiike nim curse tliis cursed crimeful night: 
 Let gliastly shadows his lewd eyes alfright, 
 And the dire thought ol'liis committed evil 
 Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil. 
 
 Disturb his hours of rest with restless trances, 
 Afflict hiin in his bed with bedrid groans; 
 Let there bechance him pitiful niischauccs, 
 To malie liim moan, but pity not his moans : 
 Stone lumwith harden'd hearts,hardcr than stones; 
 And let mild women to hiui lose their mildness, 
 Wilder to hira than tigers in tiieir wilduess. 
 
 Let him have time to tear his curled hair. 
 Let him have time against himself to rave. 
 Let him have time of Time's help to despair; 
 Let him have time to live a loathed slave, 
 Let hiui liave time a beggar's orts to crave ; 
 And time to see one that by alms dotli live 
 Disdain to him disdained scraps to give. 
 
 Let him have time to see his friends his foes. 
 And uierry fools to mock at liim resort; 
 Let him have time to mark how slow time goes 
 In time nf sorrow, and how swift and short 
 His time of folly and his time of sport: 
 And ever let his unrecalling crime 
 Have time to wail tlie abusing of his time. 
 
 O Time, thou tutor both to good and bad, 
 Teach me to curse him that lliou taught'st this ill ! 
 At his own shadow let the thief run juail. 
 Himself himself seek every hour to kill ! 
 Such wretched hands such wretched blood should 
 spill: 
 For who so base would such an office have 
 As slanderous death's-man to so base a slave ! 
 
 The baser is he, coming from a king. 
 To shame his hope with deeds degenerate. 
 The miglitier man, the mightier is the thing 
 That makes him honor'd, or begets him hate: 
 For greatest scandal waits on greatest state. 
 The moon being clouded presently is miss'd. 
 But little stars may hide them when they list. 
 
 The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire. 
 And unperceiv'd Ily with the tilth away, 
 Hut it the like the snow-white swan desire, 
 The stain upon his silver down will stay. 
 Poor grooms are sightless night, kings glorious day. 
 (Juats are unnoted wheroso'er they ily. 
 But eagles gaz'd upon with every eye. 
 
 Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools ! 
 
 Unjirolitahle sounds, weak arbitrators ! 
 
 Busy yourselves in skill-contending schools. 
 
 Debate where leisure serves with dull debaters; 
 
 To trembling clients be you mediators : 
 For nie, I force not argument a straw. 
 Since that my case is past the help of law. 
 
 In vain I rail at Opportunity, 
 
 At Time, at Tarquin, and uncheerful night; 
 
 In vain 1 cavil with my infamy. 
 
 In vain 1 spurn at my conlirm'd despite : 
 
 This helpless smoke of words doth me no right. 
 
 The remedy indeed to do me good. 
 
 Is to let forth my foul, dehled blood. 
 
 Poor hand, why quiver'st thou at this decree 1 
 
 Honor thyself to rid me of this shame; 
 
 For if I die my honor lives in thee, 
 
 liut if I live, thou liv'st in my defame: 
 
 .Sinre thou couldst not defend thy loyal dame, 
 And was afeard to scratch her'wic'ked liie. 
 Kill both thyself and her for yielding so." 
 
 This said, from her betumbled couch she starteth, 
 To hnd some desperate instrument of death : 
 Hot tliis no-slaughter-house no tool iinparlelh. 
 To make more vent (or passage of her breath. 
 Which thronging through her lips so vanisheth 
 As smoke from TEtna, that in air consumes. 
 Or that which from discharged cannon fumes. 
 
 ' In vain," (|uoth she, " I live, and seek in vain 
 Some happy mean to end a hajjless life. 
 I fear'd by Tarquin's ildcluon to bo slain. 
 Yet for the self-same purjiose seek a kriitc: 
 But when I fear'd 1 was a loyal wife; 
 
 So am I now:— O no, I bat cannot be; 
 
 (If that true type hath Tarquin rifled mo. 
 
 ! that is gone for which I sought to livo, 
 And the -efore now I need not fear to die. 
 To clear this spot by death, at least I give 
 A badge of fame to slander's livery; 
 
 A dying life to living infamy; 
 Poor helpless help, the treasure stolen away. 
 To burn the guiltless casket where it lay 1 
 
 Well, well, dear CoUatine, thou shall not know 
 The stained taste of violated troth; 
 
 1 will not wrong thy true affection so 
 To flatter thee with an infringed oath; 
 
 This bastard grafl'shall never come to growth: 
 He shall not boast who did thy stock pollute 
 That thou art doting father of his fruit. 
 
 Nor shall he smile at tlice in secret thought. 
 Nor laugh with his companions at thy state; 
 But thou shalt know thy interest was not bought 
 Basely with gold, but stolen from forth thy gate. 
 For me, I am the mistress of my fife. 
 And with my trespass never will dispense, 
 Till life to death acquit my forced olliince. 
 
 I will not poison thee with my attaint. 
 Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin'd excuses.; 
 My sable ground of sin I will not paint. 
 To liide the truth of this false night's abuses : 
 My tcpugue shall utter all ; mine eyes like sluices, 
 As from a mountain-spring that feeds a dale. 
 Shall gush pure streams to purge my impure 
 tale. 
 
 By this, lamenting Philomel had ended 
 The well-tun'd warble other nightly sorrow. 
 And solemn night with slow-sad gait descended 
 To ugly hell; when lo, the blushing morrow 
 Lends light to all fair eves that light will borrow; 
 But cloudy Lucreee shames herself lo see, 
 And therefore still in night would cloister'd be. 
 
 Revealing day through every cranny spies. 
 And seems to point her out where she sits weeping, 
 To whoin she sobbing speaks : " O eye of eyes. 
 Why pry 'st thou through my window? leave thy 
 
 peeping: 
 Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sleep- 
 ing: -^ 
 
 Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light. 
 For day hath nought to do what's done by night." 
 
 Thus cavils she with every thing she sees : 
 True grief is fond and testy as a child. 
 Who wayward once, his mood with nought agiees. 
 Old woes, not infant sorrows, bear them mild 
 Continuance tames the one ; the otiier wild, ' 
 Like an unpraclis'd swimmer, plunging still 
 With too much labor, drowns for want of skill. 
 
 So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care. 
 
 Holds disputation with each thing she views, 
 
 And to herself all sorrow doth compare; 
 
 No object but her passion's strength renews; 
 
 And as one shifts, another straight ensues: 
 Sometime her grief is dumb, and halh no words: 
 Sometime tis mad, and too much talk alibrds. 
 
 The little birds that tune their morning's joy 
 
 Make fier moans mad with their sweet melody. 
 
 For mirth doth search the bottom of annoy ; 
 
 Sad souls are slain in merry company ; 
 
 Grief best is pleas'd with griefs society : 
 True sorrow then is feelingly sullic'd. 
 When with like semblance it is sympathiz'd. 
 
 'Tis double death to drown in ken of .shore; 
 He ten limes pines that pines beholding food ; 
 To see the salve doth make the wound ache more: 
 Great grief grieves most at that would do it good • 
 Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood. 
 
 Who, being stopp'd, the bounding banks o'er- 
 llows ; 
 
 Grief dallied with nor law nor limit knows. 
 
 " You mocking birds," quoth she, " your tunes en- 
 tomb 
 Within your hollow-swclling feather'd breasts, 
 And in my hearing be you mute and dumb! 
 (My restless di.scord loves no stops nor rests; 
 A woeful hostess brooks not merry guests:) 
 Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears; 
 Distress likes dumps-i when time is kept with teais. • 
 * Mekiucholy aitfl. 
 
THE EAPE OF LUCREGE. 
 
 ?91 
 
 Come, PIiiloniL'l, that sing'st of ravisliment, 
 Make thy sad f^rove in my dishovell'd hair. 
 As tlic dank cartli weeps at thy languishnient, 
 So 1 at eacfi sad strain will strain a tear, 
 And with dei'i) groans the diapason bear : 
 For hurtiicn-wisc Til lium on Tarquin still, 
 While thou on Tereus descaiit'st better skill. 
 
 And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part, 
 To keep thy sliarp woes waking, wretched I, 
 To imitate thee well, against my heart 
 Will hx a sharp knife, to atl'ri'ght mine eye; 
 ^Vho, if it wink, shall thereon lall and die. 
 These means, as frets upon an instrument. 
 Shall tune our heart-strings to true languish 
 ment. 
 
 And for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day, 
 As-shaming any eye should thee behold. 
 Some dark deep desert, seated from the way. 
 That knows nor parching heat nor IVeeziHg cold, 
 We will lind out; and there we will unlblti 
 To creatures stern sad tunes, to change their 
 
 kinds; 
 Since men prove bc.tsts let beasts bear gentle 
 minds." 
 
 As the poor frighted deer, that stands at gaze, 
 Widly determining which way to fly, 
 Or one encompass'd 'vith a winding maze. 
 That cannot tread the way out readily ; 
 So wiih herself is she in mutiny, 
 To live or die wiiich of the twain were better. 
 When lile is shamed, and death Reproach's 
 debtor. 
 
 "To kill myself," quoth she, "alack! what wereit, 
 But with my body my poor soul's pollution ! 
 They that lose halt", with greater patience bear it 
 Than they whose whole is swallow'd in confusion. 
 That mother tries a merciless conclusion 
 
 Who, having two sweet babes, when death takes 
 one. 
 
 Will slay the other, and be nurse to none. 
 
 My body or my soul, which was the dearer 1 
 Wiien the one pure, the other made divine. 
 Whose love of either to myself was nearer! 
 When both were kept for heaven and Collatine. 
 All me 1 the bark peel'd from the lolly pine, 
 
 His leaves will wither, and his sap decay; 
 
 So must my soul, her bark being peel'd away 
 
 Her house is sack'd. her quiet interrupted. 
 
 Her mansion batter'd by the enemy ; 
 
 Her sacred temple spotted, spoil'd, corrupted. 
 
 Grossly engirt with daring infamy : 
 
 Then let it not be call'd impiety 
 If in this blemish'd liirt I make some hole, 
 Tlirough which I may convey this troubled sou> 
 
 Yet die I %vill not till my Collatine 
 Have heard the cause oi'my untimely death ; 
 That ho may vow, in that sad hour of mine. 
 Revenge on him tliat made me stop my breath. 
 My stained blood to Tarquin I'll bequeath. 
 Which by him tainted, shall tor him be spent. 
 And as his due, writ in mv testament. 
 
 My honor I'll bequeath unto the knifn 
 That wounds my body so dishonored. 
 'Tis honor to deprive dislionor'd life; 
 The one will live, the other being dead: 
 So of shame's ashes shall my fame be bred; 
 For in my death I murtlier shameful scorn: 
 My shame so do id, mine honor is new-boru 
 
 Dear lord of that dear jewel I have lost. 
 What legacy shall I bequeath to theeT 
 My resolution. Love, shall be thy boast. 
 By whose exami)le thou reveng'd mayst be. 
 How Tarquin must bo used, read it in me : 
 Myself, thy friend, will kill myself, thy foe. 
 And, lt>r my sake, serve thou false Tarquin so. 
 
 This brief abridgment of my will I make: 
 My soul and body to the skies and ground ; 
 My resolution, husband, do thou take; 
 Mine honor be the knife's that makes my wound; - 
 My shame be his that did my liime conlimnd ; 
 And all my fame that lives disbursed be 
 To those that live, and think no shame of me. 
 
 Thou. Collatine, shall oversee this will ; 
 How was I overseen that thou shalt see it ! 
 My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill ; 
 My life's foul deed, my life's fair end shall free it. 
 Faint not. faint heart, but stoutly saj', * so be it.' 
 
 Yield to mj" hand; my hand s'iiall conquer thee . 
 
 Thou dead, both die, and both shall victors be." 
 
 This plot of death when sadly she had laid. 
 And wiped the brinish pearl from her bright eyes. 
 With untun'd tongue she hoarsely call'd iier inaiii, 
 "Whose swift oliedience to her mistress hies ; 
 For lli-et-wing'd duty with thought's leathers flics. 
 Poor Lucrcee' ciieeks unto her maid seem so 
 As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow. 
 
 Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow, 
 With soJt-slow tongue, true mark of inodcsty, 
 And sorts a sad look to her lady's sorrow, 
 (For why 1 her face wore sorrow's livery,) 
 But durst not ask of her audaciously 
 Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so, 
 Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash 'd with woe. 
 
 But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set. 
 Each flower moisteuM like a melting eye; 
 Even so the maid with swelling drops gan wet 
 Her circled eyne, enlbreed by sympathy 
 Of those fair suns, set in her mistress' sky, 
 Who in a salt-wav'd ocean quench their light. 
 Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night. 
 
 A pretty while these pretty creatures stand, 
 Like ivory conduits coral cisterns tilling: 
 One Justly weeps; the other takes in hand 
 No cause, but company, of her drops spTlling: 
 Their gentle sex to weep are often willing; 
 Grieving themselves to guess at others' smarts. 
 And then they drown their eyes, or break their 
 hearts. 
 
 For men have marble, women waxen minds, 
 .Vnd therefore are they I'orm'il as marble will : 
 The weak oppress'd, the impression of strange 
 
 kinds 
 Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill: 
 Then call thein not the autbors of their ill. 
 No more than wax shall be accounted evil. 
 Wherein is stamij'd the semblance of a devil. 
 
 Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain. 
 Lays open all the little worms "that creep ; 
 In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain 
 Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep : 
 Through crystal walls each liltle mote will peep: 
 
 Though men can cover crimes with bold stern 
 looks. 
 
 Poor women's faces are their own faults' books 
 
 No man inveigh against the wither'd flower, 
 lint chide rough wuilcr that the flower hath kili'd! 
 Not lliat devour'd, but that which doth devour 
 Is worthy blame. 0, let it not be hild' 
 Poor women's faults that they are so fulliil'd''' 
 With men's abuses! those proud lords, to blame, 
 Make weak-made women tenants to their shame. 
 
 The precedent whereof in Lncrece view, 
 .\ssaird by night with circum^tanees strong 
 Of present death, and shame that iiilght ensue 
 By that her death, to do her liushand wrong: 
 Such danger to resistance did belong. 
 
 That dying liiur through all her body spread; 
 
 And who caiuiot abuse a body dead ! 
 
 By this, mild patience bid fair Lncrece speak 
 To the poor eouiUerleit of her complaining; 
 " My girl," quoth she, " on what occasion liroalc 
 Those tears from thee, that down tliy cheeks are 
 
 raining ! 
 If thou dost weep for grief of my sustaining. 
 Know, gentle wench, it small avails my mood: 
 if tears could help, mine own would do me good. 
 
 Put tell me, girl, when went"— (and there she 
 
 stayed 
 Till after a deep groan) " Tarquin from hence V 
 "Madam, ere I was up," replied the maid, 
 "The more to blame my sluggard negligence: 
 Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense; 
 Myself was stirring ere the break of day. 
 And, ere I rose, wa.s Tarquin gone away. 
 • Hold. • (.oni^jletely filled. 
 
792 
 
 THE KAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 But, lady, if your mnid may be so bold. 
 
 She would request to know your hcavinrss." 
 
 " O peace !" quotli Lucrcce ; " if it should be told, 
 
 The repetition cannot make it less; 
 
 For more it is than I can well express: 
 
 And tiiut deep torture may be callVl a hell, 
 When more is lelt than one halh power to tell. 
 
 Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen — 
 Yet save that labor, for I have them here. 
 VViiat should I say 1 — One of my husband's men 
 Bid thou be ready, by and by, to bear 
 A letter to my lord, my love, my dear ; 
 Bid liim uiih speed prepare to carry it: 
 Tbe cause craves haste, and it will soon be writ/' 
 
 Her maid is jrone, and she prepares to write, 
 First ]iovprin;< o'er the paper uilh her quill : 
 Cnnccit and t;r!efan eai<er combat h;^ht; 
 What wit sc's down is blotted strai;j;tii with will ; 
 Th^s is t')o curioiis-^oud, this bhuit and ill : 
 Much like a press of people at a door, 
 Tliron^ her inventions, wliich shall be before. 
 
 At last she thus beprius: "Thou worthy lord 
 Crf that unworthy wile that grceteth thee. 
 Health to thy person i next vouchsafe to allbrd 
 [If ever, love, thy Lucrece thou wilt see) 
 Some present speed to come and visit me: 
 
 So I comutend me from our house jn fjrief; 
 
 My woes are tedious, thout^hmy words are brief." 
 
 Here folds slie up the tenor of her woe. 
 
 Her certain sorrow writ uncertainly. 
 
 By this short schedule Collatinc may know 
 
 Her grief, tiut not her jjrief's true quality ; 
 
 She dares not thereof make discovery. 
 Lest he should bold it her own ^ross abuse, 
 Ere slie with blood hath stain'd her stain'd ex- 
 cuse. 
 
 Besides, the life and feeling of her passion 
 
 She hoards, to spend when he is by to hear her; 
 
 \Vhensii;hfi and groans and tears may grace the 
 
 lashion 
 >f her disgrace, the better so to clear her 
 From that suspicion which the world might bear 
 her. 
 To shun this l)lot, she would not blot the letter 
 With words, till action might become them better. 
 
 To see sad sights moves more than hear them told; 
 For then the eye interprets to the ear 
 The heavy moUon that it doth behold, 
 When every part a part of woe doth bear. 
 'Tis but a part of sorrow that we hoar: 
 Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow 
 
 fortis. 
 And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of 
 words. 
 
 Her letter now is seal'd. and on it writ, 
 ''At Ardea to my lord with more than haste: 
 The post attends, and she delivers it, 
 ilhar^iiig the sour-Iiiced groom to hie as fast 
 As laggnu; Ibwls belbre the northern blast. 
 
 Speed n)ore than speed but dull and slow she 
 deems : 
 
 Extremity still urgeth such extremes. 
 
 Tlie homely villein court'sies to her low; 
 And blusiung on her, with a steadfast eye 
 lleceives the scroll, without or yea or nn. 
 And (brth with bashful innocence doth hie. 
 But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie, 
 
 Imagine every eye beholds their blame; 
 
 For Lucrece thought lie blush'd to sec her shame; 
 
 When, silly groom ! Ood wot. it was defect 
 
 ftf spirit, life, and hold audacity. 
 
 iSuch harmless creatures have a true respect 
 
 To lalK in deeds, wliile others saucily 
 
 Promise more speed, but do it leisurely: 
 Even so. this pallern of the worn-out age 
 PawnM honest looks, but laid no words to gage. 
 
 His kindled duty kindled her mistrust. 
 That two rvfi (irewiti boih ihcir fares blazed; 
 She thought he bhish'<l as Knowing Tarquin's lust, 
 Autl, lilushiug with him, \\'isily on biin gazed; 
 ilrr earnest eye did titakp him' more amazed : 
 The more sJie saw the hlood his checivs replenish, 
 The more she thought he spied in lier some 
 blemish. 
 
 But long she thinks till he return again. 
 And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone. 
 The weary time she cannot entertain. 
 For now "'tis stale to sigh, to weep, and groan : 
 So woe hath wearied woe, moan tired moan. 
 That she her plaints a little while doth stay. 
 Pausing for means to mourn some newer way. 
 
 At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece 
 of skilful painting, made for Priam's Troj ; 
 Betbre the which is drawn the power of Greece, 
 For Helen's rape the city to destroy, 
 Tlireat'iiiiig elmid-kissini; llion with annoy; 
 Which the coumied jiainter drew so proud. 
 As heaven (it seem'd) to kiss the turrets bow'J, 
 
 A thousand lamentable objects there. 
 In scorn of Nature, Art gave lifeless life : 
 Many a dry tlrop scemM a weeping tear. 
 Shed (or the slaughtered husband by the wife. 
 The red blood reekM to show the painter's strife; 
 ATid dying eyes gleaniM forth their ashy lights, 
 Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights. 
 
 There might you sec the laboring pioneer 
 BegrimM with sweat, and smeared all with dust; 
 And I'rom the towers of Troy there would appear 
 The very eyes of men through loop-holes thrust, 
 Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust : 
 Such sweet observance in this work was had, 
 Tiiat one might see those far-olTcyes look sad. 
 
 In great commanders grace atid majesty 
 Vou might behold, triumphing in tbeir faces; 
 In youth, quick bearing and dexterity; 
 And here and there the painter interlaces 
 Pale cowards, marching on with treiYibling paces; 
 Which heartless peasants did so well resemble. 
 That one would swear he saw them quake and 
 tremt)le. 
 
 In Ajax and Ulysses. O what art 
 
 Of pbyjiognomy might one behold ! 
 
 The face of either 'cipher'd cither's heart; 
 
 Their face their manners most expressly told: 
 
 In Ajax' eyes blunt rage and rigor roll'd ; 
 But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent 
 Show'd deep regard and smiling government. 
 
 There pleading might you see grave Neator stand. 
 As 'twere cncouragir.g the Greeks to fight; 
 Making such sober action with his hand 
 That it beguil'd attention, charm'd the sight: 
 In speech, it seem'd. his beard all silver wliite, 
 Wng;;'d up and down, and from his lips did tly 
 Thin winding breath, which puri'U up to the sky 
 
 About him wore a press of gaping faces, 
 AVhich seem'd to swallow up his sound advice; 
 All jointly listening, but with several graces, 
 As if some mermaid did their ears entice ; 
 Some high, some low, the painter was so nice: 
 The scalps of many, almost hid behind, 
 To jump up higher seeni'd to mock the mind. 
 
 Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head. 
 
 His nose being shadow'd by his neighbor's ear; 
 
 Here one being throng'd bears back, all boll'n" and 
 red ; 
 
 Another, smother'd, seems to pelt and swear; 
 
 And in their rage such signs of rage they bear. 
 As, but for loss of Nestor's soldeii words. 
 It seem'd they would debate vrith angry swords. 
 
 For much imaginary work was there; 
 Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind,^ 
 That lor Achilles' image stood his spear, 
 Grip'd in an armed hand; himself, behind, 
 Was led unseen, save to the eye of mind: 
 
 A hand, a (bot, a face, a leg, a head, 
 
 Stood lor the whole to be imagined. 
 And tVom the walls of strong-besieged Troy, 
 When their brave hope, bold Ilector, mai-ch'd to 
 
 field. 
 Stood many Trojan mothers, sharing joy 
 To see their youthful sons btight weaj)ons wield; 
 Ami (o their hope Ihey sucn add action yield. 
 
 That throiiiih Iheir light joy seemed to ap]>ear 
 
 (Like bright things stain'd) a kind of heavy fear 
 
 And, from the sirond of Dardaii where they fought, 
 To Simois' reedy banks the red blood ran,' 
 
 'Swollen. ^Natural. 
 
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 93 
 
 Whose waves to imitate the hattle soiiglit 
 With swelhng ridges; and tlu-ir ranks began 
 To breai< upon the»f;:ailed sliore, and thans 
 . Retire again, till meeting greater ranlis 
 Tliey join, and slioot tlicir ibam at Siniois' banks. 
 
 To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come, 
 To find a liicc where all distress is stel'd. 
 Many she sees wliere cares have carved some, 
 liut none where all distress and dolor dwell'd, 
 Till she despairing Hecuba beheld 
 Staring on Priam's wounds with her old eyes, 
 Which bleeding under Pyrrhus' proud foot lies. 
 
 In her the painter had anatomiz'd 
 Time'sruin, beauty's wrack, and grim care's reig-n ; 
 Her cheeks with chaps and wrinkles were disguis'd; 
 01' what she was no semblance did remain : 
 Her blue blood, chang'd to black in every vein. 
 
 Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipes had 
 led, 
 
 Shovv'd life imprison'd in a body dead. 
 
 On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes. 
 And sliapes her sorrow to the beldame's woes. 
 Who nothing wants to answer her but cries, 
 The bitter words to ban her cruel foes; 
 The painter was no god to lend her those; 
 And therefore Lucrece swears he did her wrong, 
 To give her so much grief, and not a tongue. 
 
 "Poor instrument," quoth she, "without a sound, 
 I'll tunc thy woes with my lamenting tongue: 
 And drop sweet t)alm in Priam's painted wound. 
 And rail on Pyrrhus that hath done him wrong. 
 And with my tears quench Troy that burns so long; 
 And with my knife scratch nut the angry eyes 
 Of all the Greeks that are thine enemies. 
 
 Shew me the strumpet that began this stir, 
 That with my nails her beaut\*l may tear. 
 Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur 
 This load of wrath that burning Troy doth bear; 
 Thy eye kindled the tire that burnetfi here : 
 And here in Troy, for trespass of thine eye. 
 The sire, the son, tile dame, and daughter, die. 
 
 Why should the private pleasure of some one 
 Become the public plague of many mo !' 
 Let sin, alone committed, light alone 
 Uj)on his head lluit hath transgressed so. 
 Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty woe: 
 
 For one's olli?nce why should so many fall. 
 
 To plague a private sin in general ! 
 
 Lo, here weeps Hecuba, Iiere Priam dies. 
 Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds; 
 Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies. 
 And friend to' friend gives unadvised wounds, 
 And one man's lust these many lives confounds: 
 Had doting Priam check'd his son's desire, 
 Troy had been bright with tame, and not with 
 lire." 
 
 Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes : 
 For sorrow, like a heavy hanging bell, 
 Once set on ringing, with his own weight goes ; 
 Then little strength rings out the doleful knell: 
 So Lucrece set a-work sad tales doth tell 
 To penciU'd pensiveness and color'd sorrow : 
 She lends them words, and she their looks doth 
 borrow. 
 
 She throws her eyes about the painting, round. 
 And whom she finds forlorn she doth lament : 
 At last siie sees a wretched image bound. 
 That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds lent; 
 His face, though full of cares, jet sliow'd content: 
 Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he goes. 
 So luild that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes. 
 
 In him the painter labor'd wiih his skill 
 To hide deceit, and give the harmless show 
 An humble gait, calm looks, eyes wailing still, 
 A brow unbent, that seem'd to welcome woe; 
 Cheeks neither red nor pale, but mingled so 
 That blushing red no guilty instance gave. 
 Nor ashy pale the fear that false hearts have. 
 
 But, like a constant and confirmed devil, 
 He enlertfiiii'd a show so seeming just. 
 And therein so ensconced his secret evil, 
 That jealousy itself could not mistrust 
 
 » Tbeu. ' More. 
 
 False-creeping craft and perjury should thrust 
 Into so bright a day such black-iaced storms. 
 Or blot with hell-born sin such saint-like forms. 
 
 The well-skill'd workman this mild image drew 
 For perjur'd Sinon, whose enchanting story 
 The credulous old Priam after slew ; 
 Whose words, like wildtire, burnt the shining glory 
 Of rich-built Ilion, that the skies were sorry, 
 And little stars shot from their fixed places, 
 When their glass fell wherein they view'd their 
 faces. 
 
 This picture she advisedly perus'd. 
 And chid the painter for fiis wondrous skill; 
 Saying, some shape in Sinon's was abus'd. 
 So fair a Ibrm lodg'd not a mind so ill ; 
 And still on him she gaz'd, and gazing still. 
 Such signs of truth in his plain face she spied, 
 That she concludes the picture was belied. 
 
 "It cannot be," quoth she, "that so much guile"— 
 (She would have said) "can lurk in sucn a look ;" 
 But Tarquin's shape came in her mind the while. 
 And from her tongue "can lurk" Irom "cannot" 
 
 took ; 
 "It cannot be" she in that sense forsook. 
 And turn'd it thus: " U cannot be, I rtnd. 
 But such a face should bear a wicked mind: 
 
 For even as subtle Sinon here is painted. 
 So sober-sad. so weary, and so mild, 
 (As if with grief or travail he had tainted,) 
 To ine came Tarquin armed; so beguird 
 With outward honesty, but yet delil'd 
 With inward vice; as Priam him did cherish, 
 So did I Tarquin ; so my Troy did perish. 
 
 Look, look, how listening Priam wets his eyes, 
 
 To sec those borrow'd tears that Sinon sheds. 
 
 Priam, why art thou old, and yet not wise ! 
 
 For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds; 
 
 His eye drops lire, no water thence proceeds: 
 Those round clear pearls of his that move thy pity 
 Are balls of c|uenchless tire to burn thy city. 
 
 Such devils steal effects from lightless hell ; 
 For Sinon in his lire doth quake with cold, 
 And in that cold hot-burning tire doth dwell; 
 These contraries such unity do hold 
 Only to Hatter tools, and make them bold : 
 So Priam's trust tiilse Sinon's tears doth Hatter, 
 That he liiids means to burn his Troy with water." 
 
 Here, all cnrag'd, such passion her assails. 
 That patience is quite beaten from her breast. 
 She tears the .senseless Sinon with her nails, 
 Comparing him to that unhappy guest, 
 Whose deed hath made herself herself detest ; 
 
 At last she smilingly with this gives o'er; 
 
 "Fool! Ibol!" quoth she, "his wounds will not 
 be .sore." 
 
 Thus ebbs and Hows the current of her sorrow. 
 And timcdoth weary time with her complaining. 
 She looks for night, Tuul then she longs for morrow, 
 And lioth she Ihiiiks loo long with her remaining; 
 Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustainii:g. 
 
 Though woe be heavy yet it seldom sleeps; 
 
 And they that watch see time how slow it creeps. 
 
 Which all this time hath ovcrslipp'd her thonght, 
 That she with painted images hath spent; 
 lieing from the li^^ling other own grief brought 
 By deep surmise of otiiers' detriment ; 
 Losing her woes in shows of discontent. 
 It easetli some, though none it ever cured. 
 To think their dolor others have endur'd. 
 
 But now the mindful messenger, come back. 
 Brings home his lord and other company : 
 Who Hnds his Lucrece clad in mourning black; 
 And round about her tear-distained eye. 
 Blue circles stream'd, like rainbows in the sky. 
 These water-galls in her dim element 
 Foretell new storms to those already spent. 
 
 Which when her sad-beholding husband saw, 
 
 Amazedly in her sad face he stares^: 
 
 Her eyes, though sod in tears, look'd red and raw, 
 
 Her lively color kiU'd with deadly cares. 
 
 He hath no power to ask her how she fares, 
 
794 
 
 THE RAPE OF LUCRECE. 
 
 But stood like old acquaintance in a trance, 
 Met iar froni home, wondering cacli otiier's 
 cliance 
 
 At last 1)8 takes her l>y the bloodless hand, 
 And thus begins: " What uncouth ill event 
 Hath thee befallen, that thou dost trembling standi 
 Sweet love, what spite halh thy fair color spent? 
 Why art thou thus attir'd in discontent 1 
 Unm,ask, dear dear, this moody heaviness, 
 And tell thy grief, that we may give redress." 
 
 Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire 
 Ere once siie can discharge one word of wo.e: 
 At length address'd to answer his desire, 
 Slie modestly prepares to let them know 
 Her honor is ta'en prisoner by the foe ; 
 While Collotine and his consorted lords 
 With sad aUcnIion long to hear her words. 
 
 And now tiiis pale swan in her watery nest 
 Begins the sad dirge ol her certain ending: 
 "Few words," quoth she, "shall fit the trespass 
 
 best, 
 Where no excuse can give the fault amending ; 
 In me more woes than words are now dcpendmg; 
 And my laments would be drawn out too long, 
 To tell them all with one poor tired tongue. 
 
 Then be this all the task it hath to say : — 
 Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed 
 A stranger came, and on that pillow lay 
 Where thou wast wont to rest thy weary head; 
 And what wrong else may be imagined 
 By foul enforcement might be done to me, 
 From that, alas .' thy Lucrece is not free. 
 
 For in the drpodful dead of dark midnight. 
 With shining falchion in my chamber came 
 A creeping creature, with a flaming light. 
 And sofily cried, Awake, thou Roman dame, 
 And entertain my love ; else lasting shame 
 On thee and thine this night 1 will iiiiliet, 
 If thou my love's desire do contradict. 
 
 For some hard-favor'd groom of thine, quoth he, 
 Unless thou yoke thy liking to my will, 
 I'll murder straight, and then I'll slaughter thee. 
 And swear I found you where you did fulfil 
 The loathsome act of lust, and so did kill 
 The lechers in their deed; this act will be 
 My fame, and thy perpetual infamy. 
 
 With this I did begin to start and cry. 
 And then against my heart he set his sword, 
 Swearing, unless I took all patiently 
 I should not live to speak another word : 
 So should my shame still rest upon record, 
 And never be forgot in mighty Rome 
 The adulterate death of Lucrece and her groom. 
 
 Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak, 
 And far the weaker with so strong a fear; 
 My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak; 
 No rightful plea might plead for .justice Uiere : 
 His scarlet lust came evidence to swear 
 Tliat my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes. 
 And when the judge is robb'd, the prisoner dies. 
 
 teach me how to make mine own excuse ! 
 
 Or, at the least, this refuge let me find ; 
 
 Though my gross blood be stain'd with this abuse. 
 
 Immaculate and spotless is my mind; 
 
 That was not forced ; that never was inclin'd 
 To accessary yieldings, but still pure 
 Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure." 
 
 Lo here, the hopeless merchant of this loss. 
 With head declin'd,and voice dam m'd up with woe, 
 With s. id-set eyes, and wretched arms across, 
 From h\'> new-waxen pale begins to blow 
 The griff away that stops his answer so; 
 
 But wretctied as he is he strives in vain; 
 
 What he breathes out his breath drinks up again. 
 
 As through an arch the violent roaring tide 
 Outruns the eye that doth behold his haste ; 
 Yet in the eddy boiindelh in his pride 
 Back to the strait that lorced him on so fast; 
 In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past: 
 Even so he sighs, his sorrows make a saw. 
 To push grief on, and back the same grief draw. 
 
 Which speechless woe of his poor she attendeLh, 
 And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh: 
 " Dear lord, thy sorrow to my scTrrow lendeih 
 Another power; no flood by raining slaketh; 
 My woe too sensible thy passion makelh 
 More feeling-painful: lut it then sulhce 
 To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes. 
 
 And for my sake, when I might charm thee so. 
 For she that was thy Lucrece— now attend me; 
 He suddenly revenged on my foe. 
 Thine, mine, his own; suppose thou dost de lend mo 
 From what is past: the help that thou shall lend me 
 
 Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die; 
 
 For sparing justice feeds iniquity. 
 
 But ere I name him, you, fair lords," quolh she, 
 (Speaking to those that came with Collatine,) 
 " .^hall plight your honorable faiths to me. 
 With swill pursuit to vcnge this wrong of mine; 
 For tis a meritorious fair design 
 To chase injustice with revengeful arms: 
 Knights, by their oaths, should right poor la- 
 dies iiarms." 
 
 At this request, with noble disposition 
 Each present lord began to promise aid. 
 As bound in knighthood to her imposition, 
 Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd. 
 But she, that yet her sad task hath not said, 
 The protestation stops. " speak," quoth she, 
 " How may this forced stain be wiped from me 1 
 
 What is the quality of mine offence. 
 
 Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance? 
 
 .'.lay my pure mind with the foul act dispense. 
 
 My low-declined honor to advance ! 
 
 May any terms acquit me from this chance 1 
 
 The poison'd fountain clears itself again; 
 
 And why not I fr»m this compelled stain ]" 
 
 With this, they all at once began to say. 
 Her body's stain her mind untainted clears ; 
 While with a joyless smile she turns away 
 The face, that maj) which deep impression bears 
 Ot hard misfortune, carv'd m it with tears. 
 " No, no," quoth she, " no dame, hereafter living, 
 By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving." 
 
 Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break. 
 She throws forth Tarquin'a name ; " He', he," she 
 
 says. 
 But more than "he" her poor tongue could not 
 
 speak: 
 Till after many accents and delays. 
 Untimely breathings, sick and short assays. 
 She utters this: ■• He, he, fair lords, 'tis he. 
 That guides this hand to give this wound to me." 
 
 Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast 
 A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheath'd; 
 That blow did bail it from the deep unrest 
 Of that polluted prison where it bieath'd : 
 Her contrite sighs unlo the clouds bequeath'd 
 Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth 
 
 Life s lasting date from cancell'd destiny. 
 
 Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed, 
 Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew; 
 Till Lucrece' father, that beholds her bleed. 
 Himself on her sell-slaughter'd body threw; 
 And from the purple liiiintain Brutus drew 
 The murderous knife, and as it left the place 
 Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase ; 
 
 And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide 
 In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood 
 Circles her body in on every side. 
 Who like a lato-sack'd island vastly stood 
 Bare and unpeopled, in this fearful flood. 
 Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd. 
 And some _look'd black, and that false Tarquin 
 stain'd. 
 
 About the mourning and congealed face 
 Of that black blood, a watery ruol- goes. 
 Which seems to weep upon the tanned placa : 
 And ever since, as pitj-ing Lucrece' woes. 
 Corrupted blood some watery token shows; 
 Aiui blood untainted still doth red abide, 
 Blushing at that which is so putrclied. 
 a Circle. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 795 
 
 " Daughter, dear daughter," old Lucretius cries, 
 " That life was mine which thou hast here dcpriv'd. 
 If in the child the lather';; image lies, 
 Wliere shall I live now Lucrece is unliv'd ? 
 Thou wa-t not to this end from me deriv'd. 
 If children predecease progenitors, 
 We are their otispring, and they none of ours. 
 
 Poor hroken glass, I often did behold 
 In thy sweet semblance my old age new born ; 
 But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old, 
 Shows me a barebon'd death by time outworn; 
 0, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn! 
 And shi\cr'd all the beauty of my glass, 
 That I no more can see what once I was. 
 
 time, cease thou thy course, and last no longer, 
 If they surcease to be that should survive. 
 
 Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger, 
 And leave the talterlng feeble souls alive] 
 Xlie old bees die, the young possess their hive : 
 Then live sweet Lucrece, live again, and see 
 Thy lather die, and not thy father thee !" 
 
 By this starts Collatine as from a dream, 
 And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place ; 
 And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream 
 lie falls, and bathes the pale fear in his lace, 
 And counterfeits to die witli her a sijat-e ; 
 Till manly shame bids him pos*>es.s his breath, 
 And live, to be revenged on her death. 
 
 The deep vexation of his inward soul 
 Hath fcerv'd a dumb arrest upon his tongue ; 
 Wlio, mad that sorrow should his use control, 
 Or J'leep him from heart-easing words so long. 
 Begins to talk; but through his lijis do throng 
 
 Weak words, so thick come, in his poor heart's 
 aid. 
 
 That no man couM distinguish what he said. 
 
 yet sometimes Tarquin was pronounced plain, 
 But through his teeth, as if the name he tore. 
 Ttiis windy tempest, till it blew up rain, 
 Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more: 
 At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er: 
 The son and lather wcej) with equal strife. 
 Who siiould weep most for daughter or for wife. 
 
 The one doth call her his, the other his, 
 Vet neither may possess the claim they lay. 
 The father says, " she's mine :"' " O nnne she is," 
 Replies her husband : " Do not take away 
 My sorrow's interest ; let no mourner say 
 ile weeps for her, for she was only mine, 
 And only must be wail'd by Collatine," 
 
 "O," quoth Lucretius, "I did give tliatlife 
 Which she too early and too late hath spill'd." 
 *' Woe, woe," ouolh Collatine, ''she was my wife, 
 
 1 ow'd her, and 'tis mine that she halh killM." 
 "My daughter" and "my wife" with clamors fiU'd 
 
 The disners'd air, who, holding Lucrece' life. 
 Answer d their cries, "my daugiiter" and "my 
 wife." 
 
 Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' side, 
 Seeing such emulation in their woe, 
 Began to clothe his wit in state and pride. 
 Burying in Lucrece' wound his lolly's show. 
 He with the Romans was esteem'd so 
 
 As silly jeering idiots are with kings. 
 
 For sportive words, and uttering Ibolish things. 
 
 But now he throws that shallow habit by. 
 Wherein deep policy did him disguise; 
 And arm'd his long-hid wits advisedly, 
 To check the tears in Collatinus' eyes. 
 "Thou wronged lord of Rome," quoth he, "arise; 
 Let my unsounded self, suppos'd a fool. 
 Now set thy long experienced wit to school. 
 
 Why, Collatine, is woe the cure for woe ? 
 
 Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous 
 
 deeds ! 
 Is it revenge to give thyself a blow. 
 For his foul act by whom thy lair wife bleeds 1 
 Such childish humor from weak minds proceeds. 
 Thy wretched wile mistook the nniUer so. 
 To slay herself, that should have slain her foe. 
 
 Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart 
 In such relenting dew of lamentations, 
 But kneel with me, and help to bear thy part, 
 To rouse our Roman ijods with invocations, 
 Tliat they will suller these abomination^:, 
 (Since Rome herself in them doth stand dis 
 
 graced,) 
 By our strong arms from forth her fiiir streets 
 chased. 
 
 Now, by the Capitol that we adore. 
 And by this chaste blood so unjustly slain'd. 
 By heaven's fair sun that breeds tlie I'atearth'sstore, 
 liy all our country rights in Rome maintain'd. 
 And by chaste Lucrece' soul tJiat late complain'd 
 Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife. 
 We will revenge the death of tJiis true wife." 
 
 This said, he struck his hand upon his breast, 
 
 And kiss'd the fatal knife to end his vow; 
 
 And to his protestation urt^ed the rest. 
 
 Who, wondering at him, did his words allow; 
 
 Tlien jointly to the ground their knees they bow. 
 And that deep vow which Brutus made before, 
 He dotli again repeat, and that they swore. 
 
 Wlien they had sworn to this advised doom. 
 They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence ; 
 To show her bleeding body thorough Rome, 
 And so to publish Tarquin's ibul olfence: 
 Which being done with speedy diligence. 
 The Romans plausibly^ did give consent 
 To Tarquin's everlasting banishment. 
 » With expressions of applause. 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 FnOM fairpst croaturos wc dosiro increase, 
 Thut tluTcLiy boiiiily's rose mi^'lit never die, 
 Hut as the riper should by time decease, 
 His lender iieir niiRht hear liis memory : 
 Hut thou, contracted to thine oivn bright eyes, 
 Feed'st thy lijihl's llame with sell-substantial fuel, 
 MafcinR a famine where abundance lies. 
 Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. 
 Tliou that art now tlie world's fresh ornament. 
 And only herald to the gaudy spring, 
 Witliin thine own bud buriest thy content, 
 ind, tender churl, mak'st waste In niggarding. 
 
 rity the -world, or else this glutton be. 
 
 To cat the world's due, by the grave and thee. 
 
 II. 
 
 When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, 
 And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, 
 Thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now. 
 Will be a tattcr'd weed, of small worth held: 
 Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, 
 Where all the treasure of thy lusty days ; 
 To say, within thine own deep-sunken eycSj 
 Were an all-eating shame and thrilUcss praise. 
 
796 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 How much more praise deseiv'd thy bcauty*s use, 
 irthou couldst answer — "This fair cliild ol mine 
 Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse — " 
 Proving liis beauty by succcssiun "thine ! 
 This were to be new-made wJion tliou art old, 
 And see thy blood warm when thou ieel'st it cold. 
 
 III. 
 
 Look in thy g:lass, and Icll the face thou viewest, 
 Now IS the time tliat lace should Ibrm anotlior; 
 Whose iiesh repair if now tliou not rencwcst, 
 Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. 
 For where is she so lair whose unear'd womb 
 Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? 
 ^r who is he so lond will be the tomb 
 Of his self-love, to stop posterity 7 
 TJiou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee 
 Calls hack the lovely April of her prime: 
 So lliou through windows of thine a^e shalt see, 
 Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time. 
 But if tJiou live, rcmember'd not to be. 
 Die single, and thine image dies with thee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Unthrifly loveliness, why dost thou spend 
 Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy ! 
 Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, 
 And being frank she lends to those are free. 
 Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse 
 The bounteous largess ^iven thee to give ] 
 Protitless usurer, why dost thou use 
 So great a sura of sums, yet canst not live? 
 For liaving trallic willi thyself alone. 
 Thou of tlij'self thy sweet self dost deceive. 
 Then liow, wlien nature calls tliee to be gone, 
 Wliat acceptable audit canst tlu»u Ic.wc 1 
 The uiuis'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee, 
 Which, used, lives thy executor to bo. 
 
 Those hours that with gentle work did frame 
 Tlie U>veiy gaze wJierc every eye doth dwell, 
 Will play the tyrants to tiie \cry same, 
 And tliat unlair which lairly doth excel; 
 For never-resting time leads summer on 
 To hideous winter, and confounds him there ; 
 Sap check'd with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone. 
 Beauty o'ersnow'd, and bareness everywhere: 
 Then, were not summer's distillation lelt, 
 A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, 
 Beauty's ellect with beauty were ber^jft, 
 Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was. 
 But llowers distiil'd, though they with winter 
 
 meet, 
 Leese' but their show; their substance still lives 
 
 sweet. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then let not winter's ragged hand deface 
 In llice thy summer, ere thou be distiU'd: 
 ]\Iake sweet some phial ; treasure thou some place 
 With beauty's treasure, ere it be sell-luU'd. 
 That use is not forbidden usury, 
 Which happies those that pay the willing loan ; 
 That's tor thyself to breed another tJiee, 
 Or ten times happier, be it ten lor one; 
 Ten times thj'sclf were iiappier than tliou art. 
 If ten of thine ten times rehgur'd thee: 
 Then what could dealli do if tJiou shouldst de- 
 part, 
 Leaviuii thee living in posterity ? 
 Be not scU-will'd, fur tliou art much too fair 
 To be Di'ath s conquest, and make worms thine 
 heir. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Lo. in the orient when the gracious light 
 Litis up his burning head, each under eye 
 Dt>th homage to his new-appearing sight. 
 Serving with looks his sacred majesty; 
 And liaving ciimbM the s:eep-up heavenly Iiill, 
 Hesembling strong youth in his middle age, 
 Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, 
 Attending on his golden pilgrimage ; 
 * Lose. 
 
 But when from high-most pitch, with weary car 
 Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, 
 Tlie eyes, 'lore duteous, now converted are 
 From his low tract, and look another way : 
 So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, 
 Unlook'd on diest, unless tiiou get a son. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly 1 
 Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. 
 Why lov'st thou tJiat which tliou receiv'st not 
 
 gladly \ 
 Or else receiv st with pleasure thine annoy 1 
 If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, 
 By unions married, do otlend thine ear. 
 They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds 
 In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. 
 Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, 
 Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; 
 Resembling sire and child and happy mother, 
 Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing : 
 
 Whose speechless song, being many, seeming 
 one, 
 
 Sitigs this to thee,"thou single wilt provei<one." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye 
 That tliou consum'st thyself in single life / 
 Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die. 
 The world will wail thee, like a matelesg vviTt, 
 The world will be thy widow, and still \tfep 
 Tliat thou no form of thee hast left behind, 
 Wiien every private widow well may keep, 
 By children's eyes, her husband's sJiape in mind. 
 Look, what an unthritl in the world doth spend 
 Shitts but his place, for still the world enjoys it; 
 But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, 
 And kept unus'd, the user so destroys it. 
 No love toward others in that bosom sits, 
 That on himself such murderous shame commits 
 
 For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any, 
 WIio li»r thyself art so unprovident. 
 Grant if thou wilt tliou ait belov'd of many. 
 But that thou none lov'st is most evident ; 
 For -thou art so possess'd with mm-derons hate, 
 That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire, 
 Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate. 
 Which to repair slmuld be thy cliief desire. 
 O change thy thought, that I may change my mind! 
 Shall hate be lairer lodg'd tiian gentle love! 
 Be. as thy presence is, gracious and kind. 
 Or to thyself, at least, kind-hearted prove; 
 Make thee another self, lor love of me, 
 Tliat beauty still may live in tliine or thee. 
 
 XI. 
 
 As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st 
 In one of thine, from that which thou departest; 
 And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestovv'st, 
 Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth con- 
 
 vertest. 
 Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase; 
 Without this, lolly, age, and cold decay : 
 If all were minded so tJie time.-; should cease. 
 And threescore years would make the world away. 
 Let those whom Nature hath not made tor store, 
 Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: 
 Look whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more; 
 Which bounteous gilt thou shouldst in bounty 
 cherish; 
 She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby 
 TJiou shouldst print more, nor let that copy die 
 
 XII. 
 
 When I do count the clock that tells the time, 
 And see tlie brave day sunk in hideous night; 
 When 1 behold the vi'olei past prime. 
 And sable curls all sllver'd o'er with white 
 When lolty trees I see barren of leaves, 
 Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, 
 And summer's green all girded up in sheaves. 
 Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard; 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 797 
 
 Then of lljy beauty do I question make, 
 That tijou anionj; the wastes of time must ?o. 
 Since sweets and beauties do tliemselves forsjike, 
 And die as liist as they see others j^row ; 
 
 And notliing 'gainst Time's scythe can make de- 
 Ibnce, 
 
 Save breed, to brave him wlien tie takes thee hence. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 tliat you were yourself! but, love, j'ou are 
 No longer yours, than you yourself here live: 
 Against this coming end you should prepare, 
 Aiid your sweet semblance to some other give. 
 So should that beauty whicii you hold in lease 
 Find iio determination : then you were 
 Yourself again, alter yourselfs decease. 
 When your sweet issue your sweet form shall bear. 
 Who lets so fair a house fall to decay. 
 Which husbandry in honor might uphold 
 Against the stormy gusts of winter's day, 
 And barren rage of death's eternal cold 1 
 O ! none but unthriils: — Dear my love, you know 
 You had a liither; let your son say so. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck, 
 
 And yet methinks I have astronomy. 
 
 But not to tell of good or evil luck. 
 
 Of plagues, of dearths, or season's qualit}'. 
 
 Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell. 
 
 Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind, 
 
 Or say with iirinces if it shall go well, 
 
 By oil predict that I in heaven tind : 
 
 But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive. 
 
 And (constant stars) in them I read such art 
 
 As truth and beauty shall together thrvc. 
 
 If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert: 
 
 Or else of thee this I prognosticate, 
 
 Tliy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. 
 
 XV. 
 
 When I consider every thing that grows 
 Holds in perl, ction but a little moment. 
 That this huge state presentetii nought but shows 
 Whereon the stars in secret intlnence comment; 
 When I perceive that men as plants increase, 
 Checr'd and check'd even by the self-same sky ; 
 Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, 
 And wear their brave state out of memory; 
 Then the conceit of this inconstant stay 
 Sets you most rich in youth before my sight. 
 Where wasteful time dcbatelh with decay. 
 To change your day of youth to sullied night; 
 And, all in war with Time, lor love of you, 
 As he takes from you, 1 engraft you new. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But whercfire do not you a mightier way 
 ]Wake war upon this bloody tyrant. Time! * 
 
 And fortify yourself in your decay 
 With jiicans more blessed than :ny barren rhyme? 
 Now stand you on the top of liappy hours; 
 And many maiden gardens, yet unset. 
 With virt'uous wish would liear you living flowers, 
 Much liker than your painted counterfeit: 
 So should the lines of life that life repair. 
 Which this. Time's pencil, or my pupil pen. 
 Neither in inward worth, nor outward fair,^ 
 Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. 
 
 To give away yourself keeps yourself still ; 
 
 And yon must live, drawn by your own sweet 
 skill. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Who will believe my verse in time to come. 
 If it were lili'd with your most high deserts'! 
 Though yet. Heaven knows, it is but as a tomb 
 Which hides your life, and shows not half your 
 
 part?. 
 If I could write the beauty of your eyes. 
 And in Iresh numbers number all your graces. 
 The age to come would say, this poet lies. 
 Such heavenly touches, ne'er touch'd earthly faces. 
 So should my papers, yellow'd with their age. 
 Be scorn'd, hke old men of less truth than tongue; 
 ■> Bciuty. 
 
 I And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage, 
 ; iVnd stretched metre of an antique song: 
 I But were some child of yours alive that time. 
 You should live twice;— in it, and in mj rhyme 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
 Thou art ni(M'e lovely and more temperate: 
 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
 And summer's lease hath all too short a date : 
 Sometime too hot the eye of Heaven shines, 
 I And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; 
 And every fair from liiir sometime declines. 
 By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd; 
 But thy eternal summer shall hot liide. 
 Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; 
 Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 
 When in eternal lines to time thou growest ; 
 So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, 
 So long lives this, and this gives lile to thee. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws. 
 And make the earth devour her own sweet brood, 
 Pluck the keen teeth Irom the tierce tiger's jaws, 
 And burn the long-liv'd phojnix in her blooil; 
 Make glad and sorry seasons, as thou licet'st, 
 /*nd do whate'er thou wilt, swift-looted Time, 
 To the wide world, and all her fading sweets ; 
 But I forbid thee one most heinous crime : 
 O carve not with thy hours my love's liiir brow 
 Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; 
 Him in thy course untainted do allow, 
 i'or beauty's pattern to succeeding men. 
 Yet, do thy worst, old Time; despise thy wrong, 
 My love shall in my verso ever live J oung. 
 
 XX. 
 
 A woman's face, with nature's own hand painted, 
 Hast thou, the master-mistress of my j'assion; 
 A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted 
 With shitling change, as is false women's liishion; 
 An eye more bright than theirs, less ialse ill 
 
 rolling. 
 Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; 
 A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, 
 Whicli steals men's eyes, and women's souls 
 
 amazeth. 
 And for a woman wert thou first created ; 
 Till nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, 
 And by addition me of thee deleated. 
 By adding one thing to my purjiose nothing. 
 But since she jiiick'd thee out for women's 
 
 pleasure. 
 Mine be thy lovc,and thy love's use their treasure. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 So is it not with me as with that miise, 
 
 Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse; 
 
 Who heaven itself llir ornament doth use. 
 
 And every liiir with his Ijiir doth rehearse, 
 
 Making a coupli'incnt of proud cjiniiare. 
 
 With sun and moon, with earth and soa's rich 
 
 gems. 
 With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare 
 That heaven's air in his huge rondure' hems. 
 O let me, true in love, but truly write. 
 And then believe me, my love is as fail 
 As any mother's child, tliough not so bright 
 As those gold candles lix'd in heaven's air : 
 
 Let them say more that like of he.irsay well; 
 
 I will not praise, that purpose not to sell. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 My glass shall not persuade me I am old. 
 So long as youth and thou are of one date; 
 But when in thee time's furrows I behold. 
 Then look 1 death my days should expiate. 
 For all that beauty that doth cover thee 
 Is but the seemly raiment of ni>- heart. 
 Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me; 
 How can I then be elder than thou art ! 
 O theretbre, love, be of thyself so wary 
 As I not for myself but for thee will ; 
 * Circumference. 
 
798 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 Bearing thy lieart, which I will keep so chary 
 As tender iiurse her babe from taring ill. 
 
 Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain; 
 
 Thougav'st me thine, not to give back a^^ain. 
 
 XXIIT. 
 
 As an imperfect actor on tJie stage, 
 
 Who with his fear is put beside his part. 
 
 Or ponie tierce tiling replete with too much rage, 
 
 Whose strength's abundance weakens his own 
 
 heart; 
 Po I, for tear of trust, forget to say 
 The perfect ceremony ot love's rite, 
 And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, 
 OVrcharg'd with burthen of mine own love's might. 
 let my booits be then the eloquence 
 And dumb presagcrs of my speaking breast; 
 Who plead Ibr love, and look tor recom pence 
 Wore than that tongue that more hatli more ex- 
 press'd, 
 O learn to read what silent love hath writ : 
 To hear with eyes belongs to love's tine wit. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Mine eye hath ployM the painter, and hath steUM 
 TJ.y beauty's form' in table of my heart; 
 Aly body is the frame wherein 'tis held, 
 A-iid perspective it is best painter's art. 
 For through the painter you must see his skill, 
 To lind where yonr true image pictur'd lies, 
 \\ hu-h in my bosom's shop is hanging still. 
 That halh his windows glazed with tliiue eyes. 
 Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done; 
 ^line eyes have draw-n thy shape, and thine for me 
 Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun 
 Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee ; 
 Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, 
 They draw but what they see, know not the heart. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Let thoFc who are m faVor with their stars, 
 Of public honor and proud titles boast, 
 Whdst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, 
 Unlook'd-tbr joy in that 1 lionor most. 
 Great princes' liivoritcs iheir lair leaves spread 
 But as the marigold at the sun's eye ; 
 And in themselves their pride lies buried, 
 For at a frown they in their glory die. 
 The painful warrior famoused tor tight, 
 Alter a thousand victories once foil'd. 
 Is trom the book of lionor razed quite. 
 And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd : 
 . Tlien happy I, that love and am beloved, 
 Where 1 may not remove, nor be removed. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Lord of my love, to whom in vassaln^c 
 Tiiy merit halh my duty strongly knit, 
 To thee I send this written embassage. 
 To witness duty, not to show my wit. 
 Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine 
 Alay make seem bare, in wanting words to show it; 
 But that I lioi>e some good conceit of thine 
 In my soul's tliought.all naked, will bestow it: 
 Till whatsoever star that guides my moving, 
 Points on me graciously with fair aspect, 
 And puts apparel on my tattered loving. 
 To show me worthy olthy sweet resi>eet : 
 Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, 
 Till then, not show my head where thou mayst 
 prove me. 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 Weary with toil, I ha=;tc me to my bed. 
 
 The (fear repos;e lor limbs with travel tired; 
 
 Bui then begins ajourney in my head. 
 
 To work my mind, when" body's work's expir'd: 
 
 For then my tiiouglds (from tar where I abide) 
 
 Inti'ud a zealous pilgrimage to thee. 
 
 And keep my droojtini; eye-lids open wide. 
 
 Looking on darkness which the blind do see : 
 
 Save that my soul's imaginary sight 
 
 Presents thy shadow to my sightless view. 
 
 Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, 
 
 Makes black night beauteous, and her old iUco new. 
 
 Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, 
 For thee, and for myself, no quiet tind. 
 
 XXVIU. 
 
 How can I then return in happy plight, 
 That am debarr'd the beneht of rest ? . 
 When day's oppression is not eas'd by nisht. 
 But day by nightand night by day oppress'dl 
 And each, though enemies to cither's reign, 
 Do in consent shake hands to torture me, 
 The one by toil, the other to complain 
 How tar I toil, still farther olfirom thee. 
 I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright, 
 And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven. 
 So (latter I the swart-complexion'd night ; 
 When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild'st the 
 even. 
 But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer. 
 And night doth nightly make grief's length seem 
 stronger. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 
 
 I all alone beweep my outcast stfite. 
 
 And trouble deaf Heaven wiih my bootless cries, 
 
 And look upon myself, and curse my late, 
 
 Wishing; me like to one more rich in hope, 
 
 Featur'd like him. like him with friends possess 'd, 
 
 Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, 
 
 With what I most enjoy contented least; 
 
 Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising. 
 
 Haply I think on thee,— and then my state 
 
 (Like to the lark at break of day arising 
 
 From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate, 
 
 For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth 
 brings, 
 
 That then I scorn to change my state with kings 
 
 XXX. 
 
 When to tlie sessions o( sweet silent thought 
 T summon up remembrance of things past, 
 I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought. 
 And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste, 
 Tlien can I drown an eve unus'd to flow, 
 For precious friends Iiid in death's dateless night, 
 And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe, 
 And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight. 
 Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, 
 And heavily Irom woe to woe tell o'er 
 The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
 Which I new pay as if not paid before. 
 But if the while 1 think on thee, dear friend, 
 All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end. 
 
 XXXL 
 
 Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts. 
 Wtiich 1 by lacking liavc supposed dead ; 
 And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts. 
 And all those friends which I thought buried. 
 How many a holy and obsequious tear 
 Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye. 
 As interest of the dead, which now appear 
 But things remov'd, that hidden in thee lie! 
 Thou art the grave where buried love dorh live, 
 Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, 
 Who all their parts of me to thee did give ; 
 That due of many now is thine alone: 
 Their images I lov'd I view in thee. 
 And thou (all they) hast all the all of me. 
 
 XXXIL 
 
 If thou survive my well-contented daj'. 
 
 When that churl Death my bones with dust shall 
 
 cover. 
 And shalt by fortune once more re-snrvpy 
 These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover. 
 Compare them with the bettering of the time; 
 And thou^i^h they be outslripp'd by every jien, 
 Reserve tliem lor my love, not for their rhyme, 
 Exceeded by the heijiht of happier men. 
 () then vouchsafe me but tJiis ioving thought! 
 " Had my friend's muse grown with this growing 
 
 age, 
 A dearer Iiirth than this his love had brought, 
 To march in ranks of better equipage ; 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 799 
 
 But since he died, and poets better prove. 
 Theirs lor their style I'll read, his lor his love." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
 Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, 
 Kissing with golden face the meadows green, 
 Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchymy; 
 Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 
 With ugly rack on his celestial lace, 
 And from the lorlorn world his visage hide, 
 Slealing unseen to west wilh this disgrace: 
 Kveii so my sun one early morn did shine, 
 With all triumphant splendor on mv brow; 
 But out ! alack ! he was but one hour mine, 
 The region cloud hath mask'd him I'rom me now. 
 
 Yet bun for this my love no whit disdaineth ; 
 
 Suns of the world may stain, when heaven'." 
 sun slaineth. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day. 
 And make rac travel Ibrth without my cloak. 
 To let base clouds o'crtake me in my way. 
 Hiding tliy bravery in their rotten smoke"? 
 Tis not enough that Ihrougli the cloud thou break, 
 To dry the ram on my stnrm-bealen face. 
 For no man well of suc-h a salve can speak. 
 That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace: 
 Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief: 
 Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: 
 The ollender s sorrow lends but weak relief 
 To bim that bears the strong offijnee's cross. 
 
 Ah ! but those tears are pearl which thy love 
 sheds, 
 
 And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done : 
 Roses have thorns, and silver fount.^ins mud ; 
 Clouds a;id eclipses stain both moon and sun, 
 And loatlisome canker lives in sweetest bud. 
 All men make faults, and even I in this. 
 Authorizing thy trespass with compare, 
 Mysell corrupting, salving thy amiss,! 
 Kxciising thy sins more than thy sins are: 
 For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense, 
 (TI'V adverse party is thy advocate,) 
 And gainst myself a lawful plea commence; 
 Such civil war is in my love and bate. 
 That I an accessory needs must be 
 To that sweet thiel which sourly robs fron 
 
 0111 mc. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Let me confess that we two must be twain. 
 Although our undivided loves are one; 
 So shall Ihose blots that do with me remain 
 Without thy help, by mo be borne alone. 
 In our two loves there is but one respect, 
 Tliough in our lives a separable spite, 
 Which though it alter not love's sole effect. 
 Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. 
 I may not evermore acknowledge thee 
 Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame: 
 Nur thou with public kindness honor me, 
 Unless thou lake Ihat honor from thy name : 
 But do not so ; I love thee in such sort. 
 As, thou being mine, mine is thy good'report. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 As 9 decrepit father takes delight 
 To see his active child do deeds of youth. 
 So. I made lame by tbrtune's dearest spite. 
 Take all my comliirt of thy worth and Iruth ; 
 >or whether beauty, birth, or wealth or wit 
 Or any of these all, or all, or more, ' 
 
 Entitled in thy part* do crowned sit, 
 I make my love engrafted to this store, 
 i^o then I am not lame, poor, nor despis'd, 
 Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give 
 riiat 1 in thy abundance am sultic'd. 
 And by a part of all thy glory live. 
 
 Look what is best, that best I wish in thee ; 
 
 This wish I have ; then ten times happy me. 
 < F.iult. 
 
 xxxvin. 
 
 How can my muse want subject to invent. 
 While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my 
 
 verse 
 Thine own sweet argument, too excellent 
 For every vulgar paper lo rehearse? 
 O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me 
 Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; 
 For who s so dumb that cannot write to thee. 
 When thou thyself dost give invention light? 
 lie thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth 
 Than Ihose old nine, which rhymers invocate; 
 And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth 
 Eternal numbers to outlive long date. 
 If my slight muse do please these curious d.ays, 
 Tlie pain be mine, but t'hine shall be the praise. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 O. how thy worth with manners may I sing. 
 
 When thou art all the better part of me ! 
 
 What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? 
 
 And nliat is't but mine.own when I praise thee? 
 
 Even for this let us divided live. 
 
 And our dear love lose name of single one, 
 
 That by this separation I may give 
 
 That due to thee, which thou deserv'st alone. 
 
 absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove, 
 Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave 
 To entertain the time with Ihoughts of love, 
 (Which time and tliouslus so sweetly doth deceive.) 
 
 And that thou tcachest how to make one twain. 
 By praising him here, who doth hence remain. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all ; 
 What hast tliou then more than thou liadst 
 
 before ? 
 No love, my love, that tjioH may'st true love call ; 
 All mine was thine, before thou hadst Ibis more. 
 Then if for my love thoii my love receivcst, 
 
 1 cannot blame thee forS my love thou usest; 
 But yet be blam'd, if thou tlivselfdeceivcst 
 Hy wilful taste of what thyself refusest. 
 
 I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief. 
 Although thou steal thee all' my poverty; 
 And yet, love knows, il is a greater grief 
 
 To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury. 
 Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows. 
 Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. 
 
 XLL 
 
 Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits 
 When I am sometime absent from Iby heart. 
 Thy beauty and thy tears full well befits. 
 For still temptation follows where thou art. 
 Centle thou art, and therefore to be won. 
 Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assaii'd; 
 And when a woman woos, wliat woman's son 
 Will sourly leave her till she have prevail'd ? 
 Ah me ! but yet thou migbtst my seat forbear, 
 And chide thy beautv and thy straying youth. 
 Who lead thee in their riot even there 
 Wlierr thou ait forced to break a two-fold truth. 
 Hers, by thy beautv tsmpting her to thee, 
 Thmc, by thy beauty being false to inc. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 That thou hast her, it is not all my grief. 
 
 And yet il may be sairl I lov'd her dearly; 
 
 Thai she hath thee, is of mv wailing chief, 
 
 A loss in love that touches "me more nearly. 
 
 Loving ollenders, thus I will excuse ye:— 
 
 Thou dost love her, because thou knew'st I love 
 
 her; 
 And for my sake even so doth she abuse me. 
 Sullering my triend for my sake to approve her. 
 
 II I lose thee, my loss is mv love's gain. 
 
 And, losing her, my fricndhalh tbiind that loss; 
 Both find each other, and I lose both twain. 
 And both tor my sake lay on me this cross; 
 
 But here s the joy; mv friend and I are one; 
 
 Sweet tlattery ! then she hues but mc alone. 
 • Because. 
 
ROO 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, 
 Kor all the day tiiey view things unrespccted ; 
 But wiien I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, 
 And, darkly bright, are bright m dark directed ; 
 Then tliou whose shadow shadows doth make 
 
 bright. 
 How would thy shadow's form form happy show 
 Til llie clear d.iy, wrth thy muoh clearer light, 
 Wlieii to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! 
 How would (I say) inine eyes be blessed made 
 liv looking on thee in the living day, 
 VVheii in dead night thy liiir imperlect shade 
 Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay? 
 All days are nights to see, till i see thee. 
 And nights, bright days, when dreams do show 
 tiiee me, 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 If the dull substance of my flesh were thought. 
 Injurious distance should not stop my way ; 
 For then, despite of space, 1 would be brought 
 From limits liir remote, where tliou dost stay. 
 No matter then although my foot did stand 
 Upon the farthest earth remov'd from thee. 
 For nimble thought can jump both sea and land. 
 As soon as think the place where he would be. 
 But ah! thought kills me, that 1 am not thought. 
 To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, 
 But that, so much of earth and water wrought, 
 I must attend time's leisure with my moan; 
 deceiving nought by elements so slow 
 But heavy tears, badges of cither's woe : 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The other two, slight air and purging fire, 
 Are both with thee, wherever I abide ; 
 The first my thought, the other my desire. 
 These present-absent with swilt motion slide, 
 For when these quicker elements are gone 
 In tender embassy of love to thee, 
 My life, being made of four, with two alone 
 SiiiUs down to death, opprcss'd with melancholy; 
 Until life's composition be recured 
 By those swiit messengers return'd from tliee. 
 Who even but now come back again, assured 
 Of thy fair health, recounting it to me : 
 This told, I joy ; but then ho longer glad, 
 I send them back again, and straight grow sad. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war. 
 How to divide the conquest of thy sight; 
 Mine eye my heart thy ]iicture's sight would bar. 
 My heart mfiie eye the freedom of that right. 
 My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie, 
 (A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes,) 
 But the defendant doth that plea deny, 
 And says in him thy fair appearance lies. 
 To 'cide this title is impannelled 
 A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart ; 
 And by their verdict is determined 
 The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part : 
 As thus; "mine eye's due is thine outward part. 
 And my heart's right thine inward love of heart. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Betwixt mine eye ,ind heart a league is took. 
 And each doth good turns now unto the other: 
 When that mine eye is famish'd for a look. 
 Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, 
 With my love's picture then my eye doth feast. 
 And to the painted banquet bids my heart: 
 Another time mine eye is my heart's guest. 
 And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: 
 So, either by thy picture or my love. 
 Thyself away art present still with me; 
 For thou not' larther than my thoughtseanst move. 
 And 1 am still with them, and they with thee ; 
 (Ir if they sleep, thy iiieture in my sight 
 Awakes my heart to Ijeart's and eye's delight. 
 
 XI.VIII. 
 
 How careful was I when I took my way, 
 Fach Irille under truest bars to thrust. 
 
 That, to my use, it might unused stay 
 From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! 
 But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, 
 Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, 
 Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care. 
 Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. 
 Thee have 1 not lock'd up in any chest. 
 Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, 
 Within the gentle closure of my breast. 
 From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and 
 ]iart ; 
 And even thence thou wilt be stolen I fear, 
 For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Against that time, if ever that time come. 
 When 1 shall see thee frown on my defects. 
 When as thy love hath cast its utmost sum, 
 C'all'd to that audit by advis'd respects; 
 Against that time, when thou shall strangely pass, 
 And scarcely greet me with that sun. Iliiiie eye. 
 When love, converted from the thing it was, 
 Shall reasons find of settled gravity ; 
 Against that time do 1 ensconce me here 
 Within the knowledge of mine own desert. 
 And this my hand against myself uprear, 
 To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: 
 To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, 
 Since, why to love, I can allege no cause. 
 
 L. 
 
 How heavy do I journey on the way._ 
 When wtiat I seek — my weary travel's end — 
 Doth teach that ease and that repose to say. 
 "Thus far the miles are measur'd from thy friend! ' 
 The beast that bears me, tired with my woe. 
 Plods dully on, to be.nr that weight in me, 
 As if by some instinct the wretch did know 
 Ills rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee: 
 The bloody spur cannot provoke him on 
 That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide. 
 Which heavily he answers with a groan, 
 More sharp to me tlian spurring to his side ; 
 For that same groan doth put this in my mind. 
 My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Thus can my love excuse the slow olTence 
 Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed : 
 From where thou art why should I haste me 
 
 thence ? 
 Till I return, of posting is no need. 
 O what excuse will my poor beast then find. 
 When swift extremity can seem but slow ! 
 Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind ; 
 In winged speed no motion shall I know: 
 Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; 
 Therefore desire, of perfect love being made, 
 Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his fiery race ; 
 But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade ; 
 Since from thee going he went wilful slow. 
 Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go 
 
 LII. 
 
 So am I as the rich, wliose blessed key 
 Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure 
 The which he will not every hour survey. 
 For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. 
 Thereiore are leasts so solemn and so rare, 
 Since seldom coining, in the long year set. 
 Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, 
 Or captain^ jewels in the careanet. 
 So is the tinie that keeps you, as my chest. 
 Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, 
 To make some special instant special-blest. 
 By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. 
 "Blessed are you. whose worthiness gives scope 
 Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 What IS your substance, whereof are you made. 
 That millions of strange shadows on you tend' 
 Since every one hath, every one, one's shade, 
 And you, but one, can every shadow lend. 
 ' Chief. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 801 
 
 Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit 
 Is poorly imitated after j'oii; 
 On Helen's clieck all art of beauty set, 
 And you in Grecian tires are painted new: 
 Speali of the spring, and foizon of the year ; 
 The one doth shadow of your beauty show, 
 The other as your bounty doth appear. 
 And you in every blessed sliape we know. 
 In all external grace you have some part. 
 But you Uke none, none you, for constant heart. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 how much more doth beauty beauteous seem. 
 By that sweet ornament which truth doth give ! 
 The rose looks Ihir, but fairer we it deem 
 
 For tiiat sweet odor which doth in it live. 
 The canJicr-blooms have full as deep a dye 
 As the perfumed tincture of tlie roses, 
 Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly 
 When summer's breath their masked buds dis- 
 closes. 
 But, for their virtue only is their show. 
 They live unwoo'd, and unrespected liide 
 Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; 
 Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made; 
 And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, 
 AV'lien that shall fade, by verse distils your truth, 
 
 LV. 
 
 Not marble, nor the gilded monuments * 
 
 Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; 
 
 But ynu shall shjiie more bright in these contents 
 
 Than unsvvept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. 
 
 When wasteful war shall statues overturn, 
 
 And broils root out the work of masonry. 
 
 Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick Are shall bum 
 
 The living record of your memory. 
 
 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 
 
 Shall you pace tbrth; your praise shall still find 
 
 room, 
 Even in the eyes of all posterity 
 That wear this world out to the ending doom 
 So, till the judgment that yourself arise. 
 You hve in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said, 
 Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, 
 Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, 
 To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: 
 So, love, be thou; although to-day thou hll 
 Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, 
 To-morrow see again, and do not kill 
 The spirit of love with a perpetual dulness. 
 Let this sad interim like the ocean be 
 Which parts the shore, where two contracted-new 
 Come daily to the banks, that, when they see 
 Return of love, more blest may be the view; 
 Or call it winter, which, being full of care, 
 Jlakes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, 
 more rare. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Being your slave, what should I do but tend 
 Upon the hours and times of your desire ? 
 
 1 have no precious time at all to spend. 
 Nor services to do, till you require. 
 
 Noi dare I chide the world-without-end hour. 
 Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for j'ou, 
 Nor think the bitterness of absence sour. 
 When you have bid your servant once adieu ; 
 Nor dare I question with my jealous thought 
 Where you may be. or your allUirs suppose, 
 But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought. 
 Save, where you arc how happy you make those: 
 So true a fool is love, that in your will 
 (Though you do any thing) he thinks no ill. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 That God forbid, that made me first your slave, 
 I should in thoughtcontrolyour times of pleasure. 
 Or at your hand the account of hours to crave. 
 Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! 
 O. let me suHer (being at your beck) 
 The imprison 'd absence of your liberty, 
 51 
 
 And patience, tame to sulTerancc, bide each check 
 Williout accusing you of injury, 
 lie where you list ; your charter is so strong. 
 That you yourself may privilege your time: 
 Do what you will, to you it doth belong 
 Yourself to pardon of sell-doing crime. 
 
 I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; 
 
 Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 If there be nothing new, but that which is 
 Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd, 
 Which laboring for invention bears amiss 
 The second burthen of a former child ! 
 (), that record could with a backward look, 
 Kven of rive hundred courses of the sun. 
 Show me your image in some antique book, 
 Since mind at first in character w.a.s done ! 
 That I might see what the old world could say 
 To this composed wonder of your frame; 
 Whether we ace mended, or who'r belter they, 
 Or whether revolution be the same. 
 O ! sure I am, the wits of former days 
 To subjects worse have given admiring praise. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, 
 So do our minutes hasten to their end; 
 Kach changing jilace with that which goes before, 
 In sequent toil all forwards do contend. 
 Nativity, once in the main of light, 
 Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd. 
 Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory tight, 
 And Time, that gave, doth now his gill confound. 
 Time doth transtix the flourish set on youth. 
 And delves the parallels in beauty's brow; 
 Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, 
 And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. 
 And yet, to times in lio])e, my verse shall stand, 
 Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. 
 
 LXL 
 
 Is it thy will thy image should keep open 
 
 My heavy eyelids to the weary night ■? 
 
 Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken. 
 
 While shadows, like to Ihee, do mock iiiy sight ! 
 
 Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee 
 
 So far from home into my deeds to jiry ; 
 
 To find out shames and idle hours in me, 
 
 The scope and tenor of thy jealousy ! 
 
 O no ; thy love, though nuicli, is not so great ; 
 
 It is my love that keeps mine eye awake. 
 
 Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, 
 
 To jilay the watchman ever for thy sake: 
 
 For thee watch I, whilst thou'dost wake else- 
 where. 
 
 From me far off, with others all-too-near. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Sin of self-love possesscth all mine eye. 
 And all my soul, and all my every part ;. 
 And for this sin there is no remedy, 
 II is so grounded inward in my heart. 
 Methinks no face so gracious is as mine. 
 No shape so true, no truth of such account, 
 .\nd for myself mine own worth do define, 
 .'Vs I all other in all worths surmount. 
 But when my glass shows me myself indeed, 
 Heated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, 
 Mine own self-love quite contrary I read, 
 Self so self loving were iniquity. 
 'Tis thee (myself) that liir myself I praise. 
 Painting my age with beauty of thy days. 
 
 LXIII. 
 Against my_ love shall be, as I am now. 
 With Time's injurious hand crush'd ando'erworn ; 
 When hours have drain'd his blood, and till'd his 
 
 brow 
 With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn 
 Hath Iravell'd on to age's sleepy night ; 
 And all those beauties, whereof now he's king, 
 Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight. 
 Stealing away the treasure of his spring; 
 
802' 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 For such a time do I now fortify 
 Against confounding af^e's cruel linife, 
 That iie shall never cut from memory 
 My sweet love's beauty, thougli my lover's life. 
 His beauty shall in tiiese black lines be seen, 
 And they shall live, and he in them, still fjreen, 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced 
 Tlie rich-proud cost of outworn buried age ; 
 When sometime loity towers I see down-rased, 
 And brass eternal, slave to mortal rage ; 
 When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 
 Advantage on tiie kingdom of the shore. 
 And the lirm soil win of the wat'ry main, 
 Increasing store with losr^, and loss with store 
 When I have seen such interchange of state, 
 Or state itself confounded to decay ; 
 Ruin hath taught mc thus to ruminate— 
 Tliat time will come and take my love away. 
 This thought is as a death, which cannot choose 
 liut weep to have that which it fears to lose. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, 
 But sad mortality o*ersways their pT)wcr, 
 How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, 
 Whose action is no stronger than a tlowcr ? 
 0, how shall summer's honey breath hold out 
 Against the wreckful siege of battering days, 
 Wlien rocks impregnable are not so stout. 
 Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays? 
 fearful meditation! where, alack; 
 Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hidi 
 Or^what strong hand can- hold his swiit foot back ] 
 Or who his spoil of beauty can Ibrbid ] 
 () none, unless this miracle have might, 
 'riiat in black ink my love may still shine bright. 
 
 LXVL 
 
 Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, — 
 As, to bcliold desert a beggar born. 
 And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, 
 And purest taith unhappily foresworn, 
 And gilded honor shamefully misplaced, 
 And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted. 
 And nglu perfection wrongfully disgraced. 
 And strength by limpini; sway disabled. 
 A.iid art made tongue-tied by authority, 
 And folly (dootor-liKc) coutroiling skill, 
 Ana simple trulli mist-aird simplicity. 
 And captive good attending captain ill: 
 Tired of all theae,_froui these would I be gone. 
 Save that, to die, -I leave my love alone. 
 
 Lxvri. 
 
 Ah I wherefore with i-n-fection should he live, 
 And with his presence grace impiety, 
 Tliat sin hy him advantage should achieve. 
 And lace itself with his society 1 
 Why should false painting imitate his cheek. 
 And steal dead seeing of his living hue] 
 ^Why should poor beauty indirectLy seek 
 ■Roses of shadow, since his rose is true 1 
 Why should he live now Nature bankrupt is, 
 •Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins'? 
 'p'or she hath no exchequer now but his, 
 And. proud of many, lives upon liis gains. 
 
 O, Inm she stores, to show what vyealth she had 
 In days long since, before these last so bad. 
 
 LXVIH. 
 
 Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, 
 When beauty liv'd and died as llowers do now 
 Relbrc these" bastard signs of fair" were borne, 
 Or durst inhabit on a living brow ; 
 Betbre the goUlen tresses of the dead, 
 The right ol' sepulchres, were shorn away, 
 To live a second life on second head, 
 Kre beauty's dead tlcece made another gay : 
 In him those holy antique hours are seen» 
 Without all ornament, itself, and true. 
 Making no summer of another's green, 
 Kobbing no old to dress his beauty new; 
 1 Umuty. 
 
 And him as fora map doth nature store, 
 To show false Art what beauty was of yore. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Those parts of thee that the world's eye dolh view 
 Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend: 
 All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due, 
 Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. 
 Thineoutward thus with outward prait^eiscrown'd; 
 But those same tongues that give tliee so thine own, 
 In otiier accents do this praise confound, 
 By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. 
 They look into the beauty of thy mind, 
 And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds , 
 Then (churls] their thoughts although their ej'ea 
 
 were kind. 
 To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds : 
 But why thy odor matcheth not thy sjiow, 
 The solve'' is this, — that thou dost common grow 
 
 LXX. 
 
 That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect, 
 For slander's mark was ever yet the liiir; 
 The ornament of beauty is suspect, 
 A crow that dies in heaven's sweetest air. 
 So thou be good, slander doth but approve 
 Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; 
 For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, 
 And tifbn presenl'st a pure unstained prime. 
 Thou hast past by the ambush of young days, 
 Either not assail'd, or victor being charg'd ; 
 Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, 
 To tie up envy, evermore enlarged: 
 Ifsomc suspect of ill mask'd not thy show. 
 Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts siiouldst 
 owe.9 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
 Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell 
 Give warning to the world tliat I am lied 
 From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : 
 Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
 The hand that writ it ; for 1 love you so, 
 That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, 
 If thinking on me then should make you woe. 
 O if (I say) you look upon this verse, 
 When I perhaps compounded am with clay, 
 Do not so much as my poor name rehearse ; 
 But let your love even with my life decay: 
 Lest the wise world should look into your moan, 
 And mock you with me after I am gone. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 O, lest the world should task you to recite 
 VVhat merit lived in me, that you should love 
 After my death,^<lear love, forget me quite. 
 For youin me can nothing worthy prove; 
 Unless you would devise some virtuous tie, 
 To do more for me than mine own desert, 
 And hang more praise upon deceased I 
 Than niggard truth would willingly impart: 
 0, lest your true love may seem false in this, 
 That you for love speak well of me untrue, 
 My name be buried where my body is, 
 And live no more to shame nor mc nor you. 
 For I am shamed by that which I bring forth. 
 And so should you, to love things nothing w jrth 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 That time of year thou may'st in me behold 
 When yellow'leavcs, or none or few. do hang 
 Upon those boughs which shake against tlie cold. 
 Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang 
 In me thou seest the twilight of such day, 
 As after sunset fadeth in the west. 
 Which by and hy black night doth take away, 
 Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 
 In me thou seest the glowing of such (ire, 
 That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 
 As the death-bed whereon it must expire, 
 Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. 
 « Sclutioa. •Own. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 803 
 
 This thou pcrceiv'st which makes thy love more 
 
 To love that well which Ihou must leave ere 
 long: 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 But be contCJited: when that fell arrest 
 Withimt all bail shall carry me away. 
 My lile liath in this line some iiitereist. 
 Which for memorial still with tlicc shall stay. 
 When thou reviewest this, thou dost review 
 The very part was consecrate to thee. 
 The earth can have but earth, wliich is his due; 
 My spirit is Ihine, the better part of me : 
 So then tiiou hast but lost the dregs of life, 
 The prey of worms, my body being dead; 
 The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, 
 Too base of thee to be remembered. 
 The worth of that, is that which it contains, 
 And that is this, and this with thee remains. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 So are you to my thoughts, as food to life, 
 
 Or as sweet season'd showers are to the ground ; 
 
 And for the peace of you I hold such strife 
 
 As "twixt a miser and his wealth is found ; 
 
 Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon 
 
 Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure ; 
 
 Now counting best to be with you alone, 
 
 Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure: 
 
 Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, 
 
 And by and by clean starved tor a look ; 
 
 Possessing or pursuing no delight, 
 
 Save what is had or must from you be took. 
 
 Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, 
 
 Or gluttoning on all, or all away. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Why is my verse so barren of new pride 1 
 So lar from variation or quick change ? 
 Why, with tiic time, do 1 not glance aside 
 To new-found methods and to compounds strange? 
 Why write I still all one, ever the same, 
 And keep invention in a noted weed,' 
 That every word doth almost tell my name, 
 Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? 
 O know, sweet love, I always write of you. 
 And you and love are still my argument : 
 So all my best is dressfng old words new, 
 Spending again what is already spent ; 
 For as the sun is daily new and old, 
 So is my love still telling what is told. 
 
 Lxxvir. 
 
 Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, 
 Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste ; 
 The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear. 
 And of this book this learning may'st thou taste. 
 The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show, 
 Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; 
 Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know 
 Time's thievish progress to eternity. 
 Look what thy memory cannot contain. 
 Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find 
 Those children nurs'd, delivered from thy brain. 
 To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. 
 These offices, so oil as thou wilt look. 
 Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy book. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 So ofl have I invok'd thee for my muse, 
 And found such fair assistance in my verse, 
 As every alien pen hath got my use. 
 And under thee their poesy disperse. 
 Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing. 
 And heavy ignorance aloft to lly, 
 Have added feathers to the learned's wing, 
 And given grace a double majesty. 
 Yet be most proud of that which 'l compile, 
 Whose influence is thme, and born of thee: 
 In others' works thou dost but mend the style, 
 And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;" 
 But thou art all my art, and dost advance 
 As high as learning my rude ignorance. 
 » A dress known and familiar. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, 
 Aly verse alone had all tJiy gentle grace ; 
 Hut now my gracious numbers are decay*di 
 And my sick muse doth give another place. 
 I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument 
 Deserves the travail of a worthier pen : 
 Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent. 
 He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. 
 He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word 
 From thy behavior; beauty doth he give. 
 And Jbuhd it in thy cJieek ; he can atiord 
 No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. 
 Then thank him not fnr that which he doth say, 
 Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 O, how I faint when I of you do write, 
 Knowing a better spirit doth use your name. 
 And in the praise thereof spends all his might. 
 To make me tongue-tied speaking of your tame! 
 But since your worth (wide as the ocean is) 
 The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, 
 My saucy bark, inferior far to his, 
 On your broad main dolh wilfully appear. 
 Your shallowest help will hold me up alloat. 
 Whilst, he upon your soundless deep doth ride; 
 (ir, being wreck a, I am a worthless boat, 
 He of tall building, and of goodly pride: 
 Then if he thrive, and I he cast away. 
 The worst was this; — my love was my decay. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Or I shall live your epitaph to make. 
 Or you survive* when 1 in earth am rotten , 
 Fro'm hence your memory death cannot take, 
 Although in me each ]>art will be Jbrgotten. 
 Your name from hence immortal lile shall have-. 
 Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: 
 The earth can yield me but a common grave. 
 When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. 
 Your monument shall be my gentle verse, 
 Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read; 
 And tongues to be. your being shall rehearse, 
 When all the breathers of this world are dead; 
 You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen) 
 Where breath most breathes, even in Uie mouths 
 of men. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 I grant thou wert not marrfed to my muse, 
 And theretbre mayst without attaint o'erlook 
 The dedicated words which writers use 
 Of their lair subject, blessing every book. 
 Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, 
 Finding thy worth a limit past my praise; 
 And therelbrc art enforc'd to seek anew 
 Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days. 
 And do so, love ; yet when they have devis'u 
 What strained touches rhetoric can lend. 
 Thou truly fair wert truly sympathiz'd 
 In true plain words, by thy true-telling friend; 
 And their gross painting might be better us*d 
 Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abus'd. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 I never saw that you did painting need, 
 And theretbre to your fair no painting set. 
 I Ibund, or thougtit I fouijd. you did exceed 
 The barren tender of a poet's debt : 
 And theretbre have 1 slept in j'our report. 
 That you yourself, being extant, well might show 
 How tar a modern quill doth come too short 
 Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. 
 This silence for my sin you did impute, 
 Which shall be most my glory, bemg dumb ; 
 For I impair not beauty being mute. 
 When others would give life, and bring a tomb. 
 There lives more lile in one of your fair eyes 
 Than both your poets can in praise devise. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Who IS it that says most? which can say more 
 Than this rich praise, — tliat you alone are you \ 
 
804 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 Iti whose confine immured is tlie store 
 Wliicli should example where your equal grew 1 
 Lean penury wiiljiii that pen doth dwell, 
 Tliat to his subject lends not some small glory ; 
 Itut he that writes of >oti, il"he can tell 
 That you arc you, so dignihes his story, 
 Let Inm hut copy what in you is writ, 
 Kot making worse what nature made so clear, 
 And such a couiueipart .-hall lame his wit, 
 INIalviug Ins style admired every where. 
 You lo your heauleous blessings add a curse, 
 Being tbnd tf praise, which makes your praises 
 worse. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 My tongue-tied muse in nianners holds her still. 
 
 While comments of your praise, richly compil'd, 
 
 Reserve their character with golden quill, 
 
 And precious phrase by all the muses lil'd.- 
 
 I tliiiik good thoughts, while others write good 
 
 words, 
 And, like unletter'd clerk, slill cry "Amen" 
 To every hymn that able spirit atlbrds. 
 In polish'd form of well-rehned pen. 
 Hearing you prais'd, I say, '-'tis so, 'tis true," 
 And to the most of praise add something more ; 
 liut that is in my thought, whose love to you. 
 Though words come hindmost,holds his rank before. 
 Tlien others for the breath of words respect, 
 file lor my dumb thoughts, speaking in eticct. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Was it the proud full sail of his great verse. 
 Hound (or the prize of all-too-precious you. 
 That hid my ripe thouglUs in my brain inhearse, 
 Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew] 
 Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write 
 Above a mortal pitch, that struck me doadi 
 No. neither he. nor his compeers by night 
 (living liiin aid, my verse astonished. 
 He, nor that atlable familiar ghost 
 Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, 
 As victors, of my silence cannot boast; 
 1 was not sick of any tear from thence. 
 But when^your countenance lifd- up his line, 
 Then lack'd I matter ; that enfeebled mine. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing, 
 And like enough tiiou kuow'st thy estimate : 
 The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; 
 My bonds in thee are all determinate. 
 For iiow do I hold thee but by thy granting] 
 And lor that riches where is my deserving ] 
 The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting. 
 And so my patent back again is swerving. 
 Tliyself thou gav'st, tliy own worth then not kmow- 
 
 Or me, to whom thou gav st it, else mistaking; 
 So thy great gift, upon misprision growing. 
 Comes home again, on belter judgment making. 
 Thus have I had tliee, as a dream doth Hatter, 
 In sleep a Idng, but, waking, no such matter. 
 
 Lxxxvni. 
 
 When thou shall be dispos'd to set me light, 
 And place my merit in the eye of scorn. 
 Upon thy side against myself I'U fight. 
 And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. 
 With mine own weakness being best acquainted. 
 Upon thy part I can set down a story 
 Of faults conceai'd. wherein I am attainted ; 
 That thou, in losing inc, shalt win much glory: 
 And I by this will be a gainer too ; 
 For bending all my loving thnuglits on thee. 
 The injuries that to myself I do, 
 Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. 
 Such is my love, to thee I so belong, 
 Tliat for thy right myself will bear all wrong. 
 
 I-XXXl.X. 
 
 Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault. 
 And 1 will comment upon that oll'ence : 
 3 1'olirthud. 
 
 Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, 
 Against thy reasons making no dctenee. 
 Tliou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, 
 To set a form upon desired change. 
 As I'll myself disgrace: knowing tiiy will, 
 1 will acquaintance strangle, and look strange; 
 Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue 
 Thy sweet-beloved name no more shall dwell; 
 Lest I (too much prolane) should do it wrong. 
 And haply of our old acquaintance tell. 
 For thee, against myself I'll vow debate. 
 For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. 
 
 XC. 
 
 Then hate me when (hou wilt; if ever, now; 
 Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross, 
 Join with the spite of tbrtune, make me bow, 
 And do not drop in for an atter-loss : 
 Ah ! do not, when my heart hath scap'd this sorrow, 
 Come in the rearward of a conquer d woe ; 
 Give not a windy night a rainy morrow. 
 To linger out apurpos'd overthrow. 
 If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last. 
 When other petty grids have done their spite. 
 But in the onset come; so shall I taste 
 At hist tlie very worst of Ibrtune's might; 
 And other strains of woe. which now seem woe, 
 Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Some glory in their birth, some in their skill. 
 Some in their wealth, some in their body's force; 
 Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill; 
 Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their 
 
 horse ; 
 And every humor hath his adjunct pleasure. 
 Wherein it finds a'joy above the rest; 
 But these particulars are not my measure. 
 All these 1 better in one general best. 
 Thy love is better than high birth to me. 
 Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, 
 Of more delight than hawks or horses be; 
 And, having thee, of all men's pride I boast. 
 Wretched in this alone, that thou luayst take 
 All this away, and me most wretched make. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 ■ But do thy worst to steal thyself away. 
 For term of life thou art assured mine ; 
 And lile no longer than thy love will stay. 
 For it depends upon that love of thine. 
 Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs. 
 When 111 the least of them my life hath end. 
 I see a better state to me belongs 
 Than that which on thy humor doth depend. 
 Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind. 
 Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. 
 O what a happy title do'l find, 
 Happy to have thy love, happy to die ! 
 But what's so blessed-lirir Ihat fears no blot ?— 
 Thou may st be liilse, and yet I know it not: 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 So shall I live, supposing thou art true. 
 
 Like a deceived husband ; .so love's liice 
 
 May still seem love to me, though alter'd-new, 
 
 Thy looks with mc, thy heart in other place: 
 
 For there can live no haired in thine eye. 
 
 Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. 
 
 In many s looks the false heart's history 
 
 Is writ, in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange : 
 
 But Heaven in thy creation did decree 
 
 That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell ; 
 
 Whatc er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings 
 
 be. 
 Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness 
 tell. 
 How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow 
 If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show ! 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 They that have power to hurt and will do none, 
 That do not do tiie thing they most do show. 
 Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, 
 Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow ; 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 805 
 
 They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces. 
 And husband nature's riches from expense ; 
 They are tile lords and owners ol'tiieir laces, 
 Others but stewards of their excellence. 
 The summer's rlower is to the sumnter sweet, 
 Though to itself it only live and die ; 
 But if that llower with base infection meet. 
 Tile basest weed outbraves his dignity : 
 For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds : 
 Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. 
 
 XCV. 
 
 How sweet and lovely dost tliou make the shame 
 Which like a canker in the fragrant rose. 
 Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name I 
 O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose ! 
 That tongue that tells the story of thy days, 
 Making lascivious comments on thy sport. 
 Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise ; 
 Naming thy name blesses an ill report. 
 O, what a mansion have those vices got 
 Which for their habitation cliose out thee ! 
 Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot. 
 And all things turn to fair, that eyes can .see ! 
 
 Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege ; 
 
 The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge. 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Rome say thy fault is youth, some wantonness ; 
 Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport ; 
 Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less: 
 Thou mak'st faults graces that to thee resort. 
 As on the finger of a throned queen 
 The basest jewel will be well esteem'd; 
 So are those errors that in thee are seen, 
 To truths translated, and for true things deem'd. 
 How many lambs might the stern wolf betray, 
 If like a lamb he could his looks translate! 
 How many gazers mightst thou lead away. 
 If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! 
 But do not so ; I love thee in such sort. 
 As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 How like a winter hath my absence been 
 From thee, the pleasure of the tieeling year ! 
 What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! 
 What old December's bareness everywhere ! 
 And 5-et this time remov'd^ was summer's time; 
 The teeming autumn, big with rich increase. 
 Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, 
 Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease ; 
 Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me 
 But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit; 
 For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, 
 And thou away, the very birds are mute ; 
 Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, 
 That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's 
 near. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 From you have I been absent in the spring. 
 
 When proud-jiied April, dress'd in all his trim. 
 
 Hath put a !>pirit of youth in every thing. 
 
 That heavy Saturn laugh'd and li^ip'd with him. 
 
 Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 
 
 Of difierent llowers in odor and in hue. 
 
 Could make me any suinnicr's story tell. 
 
 Or from their proud lap pluck them where they 
 
 grew : 
 Kor did I wonder at the lilies white. 
 Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose ; 
 They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 
 Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. 
 Yet seem'd it winter still, and. you away. 
 As with your shadow I with these did play : 
 
 XCIX. 
 The forward violet thus did I chide : 
 Sweet thief, vi'hence didst thou steal thy sweet that 
 
 smells. 
 If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride 
 Which on thy soft check tor complexion dwells. 
 In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd. 
 ' Time of absence. 
 
 The lily I condemned for thy hand. 
 And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair: 
 The roses fearfully on thorns did stand. 
 One blu-shing shame, another white despair; 
 A third, nor red nor white, had stolen of both, 
 And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; 
 But for his theft, in pride of ail his growtii 
 A vengeful canker eat him up to deatii. 
 More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, 
 But sweet or color it had stolen from thee. 
 
 C. 
 
 Where art thou. Muse, that th.m forget'st so long 
 To speak of that wliicli gives thee all thy niightt 
 S^iend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song. 
 Darkening thy power, to lend b.ise subjects light t 
 Return, forgetful Muse, and straight re'dcem 
 In gentle numbers time so idly spent; 
 Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem 
 And gives thy pen both skill and argument. 
 Uise. restive Muse, my love's sweet Ace survej', 
 If Time have any wrinkle graven there ; 
 If any, be a satire to decay. 
 And make Time's spoils despised everywhere. 
 Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life, 
 So thou prevent'st his scythe, and crooked knife. 
 
 CI. 
 
 truant Muse, what shall be thy amends. 
 For thy neglect of truth in beauty dy'd ! 
 iJoth truth and beauty on my love depends; 
 So dost thou too, and therein dignified. 
 Make answer. Muse : wilt tiiou not haply say, 
 " Truth needs no color with his color fix'd. 
 Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay : 
 
 Hut best is best, if never'intermix'd 1" — 
 Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? 
 Excuse not silence so ; for it lies in thee 
 To make him much outlive a gilded tomb. 
 And to be prais'd of ages yet to be. 
 Tiien do thy oflice, IVIuse; I teach thee iiow 
 To make him seem long hence as he shows now. 
 
 cn. 
 
 My love is strengthen 'd, though more weak in 
 seeming ; 
 
 1 love not less, though less the show appear: 
 Tiiat love is merchandiz'd, whose rich esteeming 
 The owner's tongue dotli publish everywhere. 
 Our love was new, and then but in the spring, 
 When I was wont to greet it witii my lays; 
 
 As Philomel in summer's front dotii sing, 
 ,\nd stops his pipe in growtii of riper days: 
 Not that the summer is less pleasant now 
 Than when her mournful hymns did hush tlic night. 
 But that wild music burthens every bough. 
 And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. 
 Tlierefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue, 
 Because I would not dull you witli my song. 
 
 CIIL 
 
 Alack ! what poverty my muse brings forth, 
 Tliat having such a scope to show her pride, 
 The argument, all bare, is of more worth. 
 Than when it hath my added praise beside. 
 O blame me not if I no more can write ! 
 Look in your ghass. and there appears a face 
 l^hat over-goes my blunt in\ention quite. 
 Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace. 
 Were it not sinful liicn, striving to mend. 
 To mar tiie subject tliat before was well 1 
 For to no other pass my verses tend, 
 Than of jour graces and your girts to tell ; 
 And more,mLicIi more, than in my verse can sit, 
 Your own glass shows you, when you look in it. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 To me, fair friend, you never can be old, 
 For as you were when first your eye I eyed, 
 Such .seems your beauty still. Three winters' cold 
 Have from the forests shook three summers' pride. 
 Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd 
 In process of the seasons iiave I seen ; 
 Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd. 
 Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. 
 
806 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 Ah ! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand, 
 Steal from his tigure, and no pace perceiv'd ; 
 Soyoursweet hue, which mcthinksstilldolh stand, 
 Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceivM. 
 For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred. 
 Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead. 
 
 CV. 
 
 Let not my love be callM idolatry, 
 Nor my beloved as an idol show, 
 Smce all alike my song and praises be, 
 To one, of one, still such, and ever so. 
 Kmd is my love to-day, to-moirovv kind, 
 Still constant in awondrous excellence ; 
 Therefore my verse, to constancy contin'd. 
 One thing expressing, leaves out ditTerence. 
 Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument. 
 Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words ; 
 And in this change is my invention spent, 
 Three themes in one, which wondrous scope af- 
 fords. 
 Fair, kind, and true, have often Uv'd alone. 
 Which three, till now, never kept seat in one. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 When in the chronicle of wasted time 
 I see descriptions of the fairest wights. 
 And beauty making beautiful old rhyme. 
 In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, 
 Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, 
 Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 
 I see their antique pen would have express'd 
 Even such a beauty as you master now. 
 So all their praises are but prophecies 
 Of this our time, all you pretiguring ; 
 And, fur they look'd but with divining eyes, 
 They had nut skill enough your worth to sing: 
 For we, which now behold these present days, 
 Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. 
 
 cvir. 
 
 Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 
 Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, 
 Can yet the lease of my true love control, 
 Suppos'd as tbrfeit to a contin'd doom. 
 The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd. 
 And the sad augurs mock their own presage ; 
 Incertamtics now crown themselves assur'd, 
 And peace proclaims olives of endless age. 
 Now with tJie drops of this most balmy time 
 My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,^ 
 Since spite of him I'll live \n this poor rhyme, 
 While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes. 
 And thou in this shalt hnd thy monument. 
 When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are 
 spent. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 What's in the brain that ink may character. 
 Which liath not f];;ur'd to thee my true spirit'? 
 What's new to speak, what now to register. 
 That may express my love, or thy dear merit? 
 Nothing, sweet boy ; but yet, like prayers divine, 
 I must each day say o'er the very same ; 
 Counting no old thfng old, thou mine, I thine. 
 Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name. 
 So that eternal love in love's fresh case 
 Weighs not the dust and injury of age. 
 Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, 
 liut makes antiquity for aye his page ; 
 Finding the first conceit of love there bred, 
 AVMiere time and outward form would show it 
 dead. 
 
 CIX. 
 
 O, never say that I was filse of heart, 
 Though absence seein'd my flame to qualify ! 
 As easy might I from myself depart. 
 As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie : 
 That is my home of love : if I have rang'd, 
 Like him that travels, I return again; 
 Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd,— 
 So that myself bring water for my stain. 
 Never believe, though in my nature reign'd 
 All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, 
 « Submits. 
 
 That it could so preposterously be stain'd, 
 To leave for notJiing all thy sum of good; 
 For nothing this wide universe I call, 
 Save thou, my rose ; in it thou art my all. 
 
 ex. 
 
 Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there, 
 
 And made myself a motley to the view, 
 
 Gor'd^ mine own thoughts, sold cheap what ia 
 
 most dear. 
 Made old offences of affections new. 
 Most true it is, that I have look'd on truth 
 Askance and strangely ; but, by all above. 
 These blenches gave my heart another youth, 
 And worst essays prov'd thee my best of love. 
 Now all is done", save what shall liave no end: 
 Mine appetite I never more will urind 
 On newer proof, to try an older ii h'ihI, 
 A god in love, to whom I am conlin'd. 
 
 Then give me welcome, next my heaven the 
 best. 
 
 Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 O for my sake do you with Fortune chide, 
 The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
 That did not better for my lite provide. 
 Than public means, which public manners breeds. 
 Thence comes it that my name receives a brand. 
 And almost thence my nature is subdued 
 To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: 
 Pity me then, and wish I were renew'd; 
 Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink 
 Potions of eysen,"* 'gainst my strong infection ; 
 No bitterness that I will bitter think, 
 Nor double penance, to correct correction. 
 Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye. 
 Even that your pity is enough to cure me. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Your love and pit*>' doth the impression till 
 Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; 
 For wiiat care I wlio calls me well or ill. 
 So you o'ergreen n^ bad, my good allow? 
 Voii are my all-the-world, and I must strive 
 To know my shames and praises from your tongue; 
 None else to me, nor I to none alive, 
 That my steel'd sense or changes, right or wrong. 
 In so profound abysm I throw all care 
 Of others' voices, that my adder's sense 
 To critic and to flatterer stopped are. 
 Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: — 
 You arc so strongly in my purpose bred, 
 That all the world besides melhinks are dead. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind ; 
 And that which governs me to go about 
 Doth part his function, and is partly blind, 
 Seems seeing, but etlectually is out; 
 I-'or it no form delivers to the heart 
 Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth lack 
 Of his quick objects hath tlie mind no part. 
 Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch ; 
 For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, 
 The most sweet favor, or detbrmedst creature. 
 The mountain or the sea, the day or night, 
 Tlie crow, or dove, it sliapes them to your feature. 
 Incapable of more, replete with you. 
 My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd^vith you, 
 Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery, 
 Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true, 
 And that your love taught it this alchymy, 
 To make of monsters and things indigest, 
 Such cheruhims as your sweet self resemble, 
 Creating every bad a perfect best, 
 As fast as objects to his beams assemble? 
 0, 'tis the first ; 'tis flattery in my seeing. 
 And my great mind most kingly' drinks it up : 
 Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, 
 And to his palate doth prepare the cup: 
 
 » Woundu'tl. « Vinegar. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 807 
 
 If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin 
 
 That mine eye loves it, and doth first begin. 
 
 CXV. 
 
 Those lines that I before have writ, do lie, 
 Even those that paid 1 could not love you dearer; 
 yet then my judgment knew no reason why 
 My most full liame should afterwards burn clearer. 
 But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents 
 Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, 
 Tan sacred beauty-, blunt Ihe sharp'st intents, 
 Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; 
 Alas! why, fearing of Time's tyranny, 
 Might I not tlien say,_"Xow I love you best, 
 When I was certain o'er inccrtainty. 
 Crowning the present, doubting of the rest! 
 Love is a babe ; then might 1 not say so. 
 To give full growth to that which still doth grow ? 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
 
 Adnnt impediments. Love is not love 
 
 Which alters when it alteration hnds. 
 
 Or bends with the remover to remove : 
 
 O no; it is an ever-fixed mark. 
 
 That looks on tempests, and is never shakeir; 
 
 It is the star to every wandering bark, 
 
 Whose worth's unknown, althuugli his height be 
 
 taken. 
 Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
 Within his bending sickle's compass come ; 
 Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
 But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
 
 Jf this be error, and upon me prov'd, 
 
 I never writ nor no njan ever lov'd. 
 
 CXV 11. 
 
 Accuse me thus; that I have scanted all 
 Wherein I should your great deserts repay; 
 Forgot upon your dearest love to call. 
 Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; 
 That I have frequent been with unknown minds, 
 And given to time your own dear-purchas'd right; 
 That I have hoisted sail to all the winds 
 Which should tratisport me farlhest from your 
 
 sight. 
 Book both my wilfulness and errors down, 
 And on just proof surmise accumulate. 
 Bring me within the level of your frown. 
 But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate: 
 Since my appeal says, 1 did strive to prove 
 The constancy and virtue of your love. 
 
 CXVIU. 
 
 Like as, to make our appetites more keen. 
 With eager compounds we our palate urge: 
 As, to prevent our maladies unseen. 
 We sicken to shun sickness, when we purge; 
 Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweet- 
 ness. 
 To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding. 
 And, sick of welfare, (bund a kind of meetness 
 To be diseas'd, ere that there was true needing. 
 Thus policy in love, to anticipate 
 The ills that-were not, grew to faults assured. 
 And brought to medicine a healthful state. 
 Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured. 
 But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, 
 Drugs poison him tliat so fell sick of you. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, 
 Distill'd from limbecs foul as hell within. 
 Applying lisars to hopes, and hopes to fears, 
 Still losing when I saw myself to win! 
 What wretclied errors hath my heart committed. 
 Whilst it hath tliought itself so blessed never! 
 How have mine, eyes out of their spheres been 
 
 fitted,' 
 In the distraction of this madding fever ! 
 O benefit of ill! now I find true 
 That better is by evil still made better; 
 And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, 
 Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. 
 1 Subjected to fits. 
 
 So I return rebuk'd to mv content. 
 
 And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent. 
 
 CXX. 
 
 That you were once unkind, befriends me now, 
 And for that sorrow, which I then did feel. 
 Needs must I under my transgression bow, 
 Unless my nerves were brass or hammer d steel. 
 For if you were by my unkindness shaken. 
 As I by yours, you have passed a hell of time; 
 And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken 
 To weigh'how once I sulfer'd in your crime. ^ 
 
 that our night of woe might have remember d 
 My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits. 
 And soon to you, as you to me, then tcnder'd 
 The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits! 
 
 But that your trespass now becomes a ft-e : 
 Jline ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. 
 
 CXXL 
 
 'Tis better to be vile than vile estecm'd. 
 
 When not to be receives reproach of being, _ 
 
 And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem d 
 
 Not by our li'eling. but by others' seeing. 
 
 For why should others' lalse adulterate eyes 
 
 Give salutation to my sportive blood ! 
 
 Or on my frailties why are frailer spies. 
 
 Which in their wills count badwliat I think goodi 
 
 No.— I am that I am ; and they that level 
 
 At my abuses, reckon up their own; 
 
 1 may be straight, though they themselves be bevel; 
 By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be 
 
 shown ; 
 Unless this general evil they maintain,— 
 All men are bad, and in tlieir badness rcigii. 
 
 CXXIL 
 
 Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain 
 Full character'd with lasting memory. 
 Which shall above that idle rank remain, 
 Beyond all date, even to eternity : 
 Or at the least so long as brain and heart 
 Have faculty by nature to subsist; 
 Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part 
 Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. 
 That poor retention could not so much hold. 
 Nor need I tallies Ihy dear love to score ; 
 Therefore to give them from me was I bold. 
 To trust those tables that receive thee more: 
 To keep an adjunct to remember thee, 
 Were to import forgetfulness in me. 
 
 cxxin. 
 
 No! Time. Ihou shall not boast that I do change) 
 Tliy pyramids built up wilh newer might 
 To me are nothing novel, nothing strange ; 
 They are but dressings of a former sight. 
 Our'datesflre brief, and therefore we admire 
 What thou dost foist upon us that is old ; 
 .\nd rather make them born to our desire. 
 Than tliiiik that we before ha\e heard them told. 
 Thy registers and thee 1 both defy. 
 Not wondering at the present nor the past ; 
 For thy records and what we see do lie. 
 Made more or less by thy continual haste: 
 This I do vow, and this shall ever be, 
 1 will be true, despite thy scythe and Ihee. 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 If my dear love were but the child of state. 
 It might for Fortune's bastard be unfalher'd. 
 As subject to Time's love, or to Time's hate. 
 Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers 
 
 galher'd. 
 No, it was builded far from accident; 
 It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls 
 Under the blow of thralled discontent. 
 Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: 
 It fears not policy, that heretic. 
 Which works on leases of short-number d hours, 
 But all alone stands hugely politic. 
 That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with 
 showers. 
 To this I witness call the fools of time. 
 Which die for goodness, who have hv'd for crime. 
 
808 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 Were it aught to me I bore the canopy, 
 With my extern the outward honoring. 
 Or laid great bases lor eternity, 
 Whicii prove more short tiian waste or ruining? 
 Have I not seen dwellers on form and tavor 
 Lose aJl, and more, by paying too much rent, 
 For compound sweet forgoing simple savor, 
 Pitiful thrivers, m their gazing spent? 
 No; — let me be obsequious in thy heart, 
 And taiie thou my oblation, poor but free, 
 Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, 
 But mutual render, only me for Ihee. 
 Hence, thou suborn'd inlbrmer! a true sou!, 
 Wlien most impeached, stands least in thy con- 
 trol. 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power 
 Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour : 
 Who Iiast by waning grown, and therein show'st 
 Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st! 
 If Nature, sovereigu mistress over wrack. 
 As thou go'st onwards, still will pluck thee back. 
 She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill 
 May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. 
 Vet fear her, thou minion of her pleasure ; 
 She may detain, but not still keep her treasure : 
 
 Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, 
 
 And her quietus is to render thee. 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 In the old age black was not counted fair, 
 Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name ; 
 Hut now is black beauty's successive heir, 
 And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: 
 For since each hand hath put on nature's power. 
 Fairing the ibul with art's false borrovv'd lace, 
 Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy hour, 
 But is jnolau'd, if not lives in disgrace. 
 Thereiore my mistress' eyes are raven black, 
 Her eyes so suited: and they mourners seem 
 At such, who, not born fair, no beauty lack, 
 Slandering creation with a false esteem : 
 Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, 
 That every tongue says, beauty sliould look so. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 How oft, i\hen thou, my music, music play'st, 
 
 Upon that blessed wood wJiose motion sounds 
 
 With tliy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st 
 
 Tlic wiry concord that mine ear conlbunds, 
 
 Do I envy those jacks,^ that nimble leap 
 
 To kiss the tender inward of thy Jiand, 
 
 Whilst my poor lips, which snould that harvest 
 
 reap. 
 At the woocfs boldness by thee blushing stand ? 
 To be so tickled, they would change their state 
 And situation with those dancing chips. 
 O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, 
 Making dead Avood more bless'd than living lips. 
 
 Sine*' sauty jacks sn happy arc in this. 
 
 Give them thy fingers, me tiiy lips to kiss. 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 The expense of spirit in a waste ofshame 
 Is lust Ml action ; and till action, lust 
 Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame 
 Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; 
 Knjoy'd no sooner, but despised straight ; 
 past reason hunted; and no sooner had, 
 Piist reason hated, as a swallow'd bait, 
 On purjiose laid to make the taker mad : 
 Mad in pursuit, and in possession so ; 
 Had. having, and in quest to have, extreme; 
 A bliss in proof, — aufl prov'd, a very woe; 
 Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream : 
 
 All this the world well knows; yet none knows 
 well 
 
 To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 ATy mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; 
 Coral is fur more red than her lips' red : 
 
 B Smnll liatiimtTs, moved by keys, wbiih strlho the 
 Btrings of n viiginiU. 
 
 If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; 
 If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head, 
 I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, 
 But no such roses see I in her ciieeks ; 
 And in some perfumes is there more delight 
 Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. 
 I love to hear her speak, — yet well I know 
 That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 
 I grant I never saw a goddess go, — 
 My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground; 
 And yet, by Heaven, I think my love as rare 
 As any she beUed with talse compare. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art. 
 As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; 
 For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart 
 Thou art the fairest and most precious jewpl. 
 Yet, in good faith, some say that thee hVhoiil. 
 Thy face hath not the power to make love groan : 
 To say they err, I dare not be so bold, 
 Although i swear it to myself alone. 
 And, to be sure that is not false I swear, 
 A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face. 
 One on another's neck, do witness bear 
 Thy black is tlrirest in my judgment's place. 
 In nothing art thou black, save in thy deeds. 
 And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, 
 Knowing thy heart, torment me with disdain; 
 Have put on black, and loving mourners be, 
 Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. 
 And truly iH»t the morning sun of heaven 
 Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, 
 Nor that full star that ushers in the even, 
 Dotli half that glory to the sober west. 
 As those two mourning eyes become thy face; 
 O, let it then as well beseem thy heart 
 To mourn lor me, since mourning doth thee grace. 
 And suit thy pity like in every part. 
 Then will I swear beauty herself is black. 
 And all tliey foul tliat thy complexion lack. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to gfoan 
 For that deep wound it gives my 'friend and me! 
 Is 't not enough to torture me alone, 
 But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? 
 Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, 
 And my next self thou harder hast engross'd ; 
 Of him, myself, and thee, I am tbrsaken; 
 A torment thrice three-livid thus to be eross'd. 
 Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward. 
 But then my frienrl's heart let my poor heart bail; 
 Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; 
 TJiou canst not then use rigor m my gaol : 
 And yet thou wilt, for I, being pent in thee, 
 Perforce am thine, ar»d all that is in me. 
 
 cxxxiv. 
 
 So now I have confess'd that he is thine. 
 And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will; 
 Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine 
 Thou wilt restore, to be my comlbrt still : 
 liut thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, 
 For tliou art covetous, and he is kind ; 
 He learn'd hut, surety-like, to write for me, 
 Under t-Jiat bond that him as fast doth bind. 
 The statute^ of thy beauty thou wilt take, 
 Thou usurer, that put'st lorth all to use. 
 And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake; 
 So him I lose through my unkind abuse. 
 
 Him have I lost; thou Iiast both him and me; 
 
 He pays the whole, and yet am 1 not free. 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 Wiioever hatli her wish, thou hast thy will. 
 And will to bout, and will in over-plus; 
 More than enough am I that vex thee still, 
 To thy sweet will making addition tlius. 
 Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, 
 Not onco vouchsafe to hide my will in thine] 
 » OlHgation. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 809 
 
 Shall will in others seem riglit gracious, 
 And in my will no fair acceptance shine 1 
 The sea, all water, yet receives rain still, 
 And in abundance addeth to liis store ; 
 So thou, heing rich in will, add to thy will 
 One will of mine, to make thy large will more. 
 
 Let no iHikmd, no fair beseechers kill ; 
 
 Think all but one, and me in that one Wilt. 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 If thy soul check thee that I come so near. 
 Swear to thy bliiid soul that I was thy IViH, 
 And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; 
 Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 
 IVill will fulfil the treasure of thy love, 
 Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. 
 In things of great receipt with ease we prove ; 
 Among a number one is reckon'd none. 
 Then in the number let me pass untold. 
 Though in thy stores' account I one must be ; 
 For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold 
 That nothing mc, a something sweet to thee: 
 Make but my name thy love, and love that still, 
 And then thou lov'st me, — lor my name is IVill. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 Thou blind fool. Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, 
 Tliat they behold, and see not what they see ] 
 They know what beauty is, .see where it lies, 
 Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. 
 If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks 
 Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride. 
 Why of ejes' liilsehood hast thou tijrged hooks, 
 Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied ! 
 Why should my heart think that a several plot. 
 Which my heart knows the wide world's common 
 
 place ! 
 Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not. 
 To put fair Irulh upon so loiil a face ; 
 In Ihiiigs right true my heart and eyes have err'd. 
 And to thislklse plague are they now transferr'd. 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 When my love swears llial she is made of truth, 
 I do believe her, though 1 know she lies ; 
 That she might think me .some untutor'd youth, 
 Unlearned in the world's false subtiUies. 
 Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, 
 Although she knows my days are past the best, 
 Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue. 
 On both sides thus is simjile truth supprest. 
 But wherelbre says she not she is unjust? 
 And wherefore say not I that I am oi'd 1 
 O, love's best habit is in seeming trust. 
 And age in love loves not (o have years told: 
 Therefore I lie witli her, and she with me, 
 And in our faulUi by Ucs we llatter'd be. 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 O, call not me to justify the wrong 
 That thy unkindhess lays upon my heart; 
 Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue; 
 Use power with power, and slay ine lu.t by art. 
 Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere ; hut in my sight, 
 Dear heart, Ibrbear to glance lliine eye aside. 
 What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy 
 
 might 
 Is more than my o'erpress'd defence can 'hide ? 
 Let me excuse thee ; ah ! my love well knows 
 Her pretty looks have been mine enemies; 
 And therefore from my face she turns my Ibes, 
 That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: 
 Vet do not so; but since 1 am near slain. 
 Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain. 
 
 CXL. 
 
 Be wise as thou art cruel ; do not press 
 My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; 
 Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express 
 The manner of my pity-wanting pain. 
 If I might teach thee wit, better it were. 
 Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; 
 (As testy sick men, when their deaths be near. 
 No news but health from their physicians know;! 
 For, if I should despair, I should grow mad. 
 And in my madness might speak ill of thee : 
 
 Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, 
 Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be. 
 That I may not be so, nor thou belied. 
 Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart 
 go wide. 
 
 CXLL 
 
 In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes. 
 For they in thee a thousand errors note; 
 But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, 
 VV'ho in despite of view is pleas'd to dote. 
 Nor are my ears with thy tongue's tune delighted 
 Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone; 
 Nor taste nor smell, desire to be invited 
 To any sensual feast with thee alone: 
 Hut my live wits, nor my live senses can 
 Dissuade one Ibolish heart from serving thee, 
 Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man. 
 Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: 
 Only my plague thus lar I count my gain. 
 That she that makes me sin, awards me pain. 
 
 CXLIL 
 
 Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, 
 Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: 
 
 but with mine compare thou thine own state, 
 And thou shall find it merits not reproving; 
 Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine. 
 
 That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments. 
 
 And .seal'd liilse bonds of love as oft as mine ; 
 
 Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. 
 
 Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those 
 
 Whom thine eyes woo as mine impijrlune thee; 
 
 Root pity ill Ihy heart, that, when it grows. 
 
 Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. 
 If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, 
 By self-example may'st thou be denied! 
 
 CXLIIL 
 
 Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch 
 One of her feather'd creatures broke away, 
 Sels down her babe, and makes all swift despatch 
 In pursuit ol the thing she would have slay ; 
 Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, 
 Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent 
 To follow that which Hies before her face, 
 Not prizing her ])iior infant's discontent; 
 So runn'st thou after that which Hies from thee, 
 Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; 
 But if thini catch thy hope, turn back to me. 
 And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind : 
 So will I pray Ihat thou may'st have thy IVill, 
 If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 Two loves I have of comfort and despair. 
 Which like two spirits do suggest me still; 
 The better angel is a man right fiiir. 
 The worser spirit a woman, color'd ill. 
 To win me soon to hell, my female evil 
 Tempteth my better angel from my side. 
 And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, 
 Wooing his purity with her foul pride. 
 And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, 
 Suspect I may. yet not directly tell ; 
 But, being boih from me, both to each friend, 
 
 1 guess one angel in the other's heU. 
 
 Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, 
 Till my bad angel fire my good one out. 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 Those lips Ihat Love's own hand did make, 
 
 Breath'd Ibrlli the sound that said, "I hate," 
 
 To me that langihsh'd for her sake : 
 
 But when she saw my woeful state. 
 
 Straight in heart did mercy come. 
 
 Chiding Ihat tongue, that ever sweet 
 
 Was used in giving gentle doom: 
 
 And taught it thus anew to greet: 
 
 "I hate" she alter'd with an end. 
 
 That (bllow'd it as gentle day 
 
 Dolh follow night, who like a fiend 
 
 From heaven lo hell is liown away. 
 " I hate" from hate away she threw. 
 And sav'd my life, saying— "not you." 
 
810 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 
 Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array. 
 Why dost thou pine within, and sutler dearth, 
 Painting thy outward walls so costly gay 1 
 Why so large cost, having so short a lease. 
 Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? 
 Shall worms, inheritors of this excess. 
 Eat up thy charge! Is this thy body s end"! 
 Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, 
 And let that pine to aggravate thy store; 
 Buy terms divine in sellmg hours of dross; 
 Within be fed, without be rich no more: 
 So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, 
 And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then. 
 
 CXLVII. 
 
 My love is as a fever, longing still 
 
 For tliat which longer nurseth the disease; 
 
 Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, 
 
 Tlie uncertain sickly appetite to please. 
 
 My reason, the physician to my love. 
 
 Angry that liis prescriptions are not kept. 
 
 Hath left me, and I desperate now approve ; 
 
 Desire is death, which pjiysic did except. 
 
 Past cure I am. now reason is past cure, 
 
 And frantic mad with evermore unrest; 
 
 ]\Iy thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are, 
 
 At random from the truth vainly expressed ; 
 
 For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee 
 bright, 
 
 Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 
 O me! what eyes hath love put in my head. 
 Which have no correspondence with true sight! 
 Or, if tliey have, where is my judgment tied, 
 That censures falsely what they see aright ! 
 If that be lair whereon my false eyes dote, 
 What means the world to say it is not so ] 
 If it be not, then love doth well denote 
 Love's eye is not so true as all men's : no. 
 How can if! O how can Love's eye be true, 
 That is so vex'd with watching and with tears 1 
 No marvel then though I mistake my view; 
 The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears. 
 
 O cunning Love ! with tears thou keep'st me 
 blind, 
 
 Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 Canst thou, O cruel ! say I love thee not. 
 When I, against myself, with thee partake? 
 Do I not think on thee, when I forgot 
 Am of myself, all tyrant, i'or thy sake? 
 Who hateth thee that I do call my friend 1 
 On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn uponi 
 Nay if thou low'rst on me. do I not spend 
 Revenge upon myself with present moan? 
 What merit do 1 in myself respect, 
 Tliat is so proud thy service to despise, 
 When all my best doth worship thy defect, 
 Commaniled by the motion of thine eyes? 
 
 But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind ; 
 
 Those that can see thou lov'st,.and I am blind. 
 
 CL. 
 
 0, from what power hast thou this powerful might. 
 
 With insutliciency my heart lo sway ? 
 
 To make me give the lie to my true sight. 
 
 And swear that brightness doth not grace the day ? 
 
 Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, 
 
 That in the very refuse of thy deeds 
 
 There is such strength and warrantise of skill, 
 That in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? 
 Who tauglit thee how to make me love tiie« 
 
 more, 
 The more I hear and see just cause of hate? 
 C). though I love what others do abhor, 
 With others thou shouldst not abhor my state 
 
 If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me, 
 
 More worthy 1 to be belov'd of thee. 
 
 CLI. 
 
 Love is too yoimg to know what conscience is ■ 
 Yet wlio knows not, conscience is born of lovel 
 Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, 
 Lest guilty of my faults thy sw^eet self prove. 
 For thou betraying me, I do betray 
 My nobler part to my gross body's treason; 
 My soul doth tell my body that he may 
 Triumph in love; Hesh stays no farther reason; 
 But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee 
 As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, 
 He IS contented thy poor drudge to be, 
 To stand in thy atlairs, fall by thy side. 
 No want of conscience hold it that I call 
 Her — love, for whose dear love 1 rise and fall. 
 
 CLII. 
 
 In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn. 
 But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; 
 In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn. 
 In vowing nevv hate after new love bearing. 
 But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, 
 When 1 break twenty? I am perjur'd most; 
 For all my vows are oatiis but to misuse thee. 
 And all my honest faitli in thee is lost : 
 For I iiave sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, 
 Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; 
 And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, 
 Or made them swear against the thing the^' see; 
 For I have sworn thee fair: more perjur'd I, 
 To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie. 
 
 CLIIL 
 
 Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: 
 A maid of Dian's this advantage tbund, 
 And his love-kindling tire did quickly steep 
 In a cold valley-fountain of that ground ; 
 Which borrovi' d from this holy lire of love 
 A dateless lively heat, still to endure. 
 And grew a seething bath, which yet n»en prove 
 Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. 
 But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-tired, 
 Tiie boy tor trial needs would touch my breast; 
 I. sick withal, the help of batli desired. 
 And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest. 
 But found no cure; the bath for my help lies 
 Where Cupid got new fire, — my mistress' eyes, 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 The little love-god, lying once asleep. 
 Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand. 
 Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to 
 
 keep. 
 Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand 
 The fairest votary took up that hre 
 Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd; 
 And so the general of hot desire 
 VVas sleeping, by a virgin hand disarm'd. 
 This brand she quenched in a cool well by, 
 Which from Love's hre tookJieat perpetual, 
 Growing a bath and healthful remedy 
 For men diseas'd; but I. my mistress' thrall. 
 Came there for cure, and this by that I prove 
 Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. 
 
PASSIONATE PILGRIM. 
 
 I. 
 
 Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine ej'e, 
 'Gainst vvliotn the world could not hold argument, 
 Persuade my lieart to this false perjury 1 
 Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. 
 A woman I forswore ; hut I will prove. 
 Thou being a goddess, I Ibrswore not thee : 
 My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love ; 
 Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. 
 My vow was breath, and breath a vapor is: 
 Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine, 
 Exhale tins vapor vow ; in thee it is: 
 If broken, then it is no fault of mine. 
 
 If by me broke, what fool is not so wise 
 
 To lose an oath to win a paradise I 
 
 II. 
 
 Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook, 
 
 With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, 
 
 Did court tlie lad with many a lovely look. 
 
 Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. 
 
 She told him stones to delight his ear; 
 
 She show'd him favors to allure his eye ; 
 
 To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there : 
 
 Touches so soft still conquer chastity. 
 
 But whether unnpe years did want conceit, 
 
 Or he refus'd to take her figur'd protfer. 
 
 The tender nibbler would not touch the bait. 
 
 But smile and jest at every gentle otier : 
 
 Then fell she on her back, lair queen, and toward; 
 
 He rose and ran away ; ah, fool too froward ! 
 
 III. 
 
 If love make me forsworn, how shall i swear to love ! 
 
 never lUith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd : 
 
 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant 
 prove ; 
 
 Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers 
 bow'd. 
 
 Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine 
 eyes. 
 
 Where ajl those pleasures live that art can com- 
 prehend. 
 
 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shalLsuf- 
 fice ; 
 
 Well learned is that tongue that well can thee 
 commend ; 
 
 All ignorantthatsoul that sees thee without wonder; 
 
 Which is to me some praise, that 1 thy parts ad- 
 mire : 
 
 Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his 
 dreadful thunder, 
 
 Which (not to anger bcntHs music and sweet fire; 
 Celestial as thou art, O oo not love that wrong, 
 To sing the heavens* praise with such an earthly 
 tongue. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn. 
 
 And scarce the herd gone to the hedge lor shade, 
 
 When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, 
 
 A longing tarriance for Adonis made, 
 
 Under an osier growing by a brook, 
 
 A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen. 
 
 Hot was the day ; she hotter that did look 
 
 For his approach, that often there had been. 
 
 Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by, 
 
 And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim; 
 
 The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, 
 
 Yet not so wistly as this queen on him : 
 
 He, spying her, bounc'd in, whereas he stood; 
 
 Oh Jove, quoth she, why was not I a tlood I 
 
 V. 
 
 Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle ; 
 Wild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; 
 Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle, 
 Sotter than wax, and vet, as iron, rusti' 
 
 A illy pale, with damask dye to grace her, 
 None lairer, nor none falser to deface her. 
 
 Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd, 
 Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing ! 
 How many tales to please me hath she coin'd. 
 Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! 
 Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, 
 Her taith, her oaths, her tears, and all were 
 jeslings. 
 
 She burnt with love, as straw with fiie flamcth. 
 She burnt out love, as soon as straw out burneth; 
 She fram'd the love, and ynt she foil'd the framing, 
 She bade love last, and yet she fell a turning. 
 
 Was this a lover, or a lecher whether! 
 
 Bad in the bcs4, though excellent in neither. 
 
 VI. 
 
 If music and sweet poetry agree, 
 As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 
 Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, 
 Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. 
 Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch 
 Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; 
 Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such. 
 As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. 
 Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound 
 That Phoibus' lute, the queen of music, makes; 
 And in deep deiiglit am chiefly drown'd, 
 Whenas himself to singing he betakes. 
 
 One god is god of botih, as poets feign ; 
 
 One knight loves both, and both in Ihee remain. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love.i 
 « *■ * -;i:- ~.i # 
 
 Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove. 
 For Adon'ssake, a youngster proud and wild: 
 Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: 
 Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds; 
 She, silly queen, with more than love's good will. 
 Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds; 
 Once, quoth she, did I see a lair sweet youth 
 Here m these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, 
 Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth ! 
 See in my thigh, quoth she, here was the sore: 
 She showed hers; he saw more wounds than one, 
 And blushing lied, and left her all alone. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon 
 faded, 
 
 Pluck'd in the bud, and faded in the spring ! 
 
 Bright orient pearl, alack ! too timf ly shaded I 
 
 Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting! 
 Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree. 
 And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. 
 
 I weep for thee, and yet no'cause I have ; 
 For why ! thou lefl'st me nothing in thy will. 
 And yet thou lell'st me more than I Jid crave; 
 For why ] I craved nothing of thee still: 
 
 O yes. dear friend, I pardon crave of thee; 
 
 Tiiy discontent thou didst bequeath to me. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Venus, with Adonis sitting by her. 
 
 Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him : 
 
 Slie told the youngling iiow god Mars did try her, 
 
 And as he tell to her, she fell to him. 
 
 Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god embraced 
 
 me ; 
 And then she cUpp'd Adonis in her arms: 
 Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god unlaced me: 
 As if the boy should use like loving charms. 
 * The second line is lost. 
 
 811 
 
812 
 
 PASSIONATE PILGRIM. 
 
 Even thus, quolh she, he seized on my lips, 
 
 And with her lips on his did act the seizure; 
 
 And as she fetched breath, away he skips; 
 
 And would not takehernieaniuf^ nor her pleasure. 
 Ahf that I had my lady at titis bay, 
 To kiss and clip me till I run away I 
 
 X. 
 
 Crabbed ase and youth 
 
 Cannot live together ; 
 Youth is full of pleasance, 
 
 Age is full of care : 
 Youth like summer morn, 
 
 Age like winter weather; 
 Youtii like summer brave, 
 
 Age like winter bare. 
 Youth is full of sport, 
 Age's breath is short, 
 
 Youth is nimble, age is lame: 
 Youth is hot and bold, 
 Age is weak and cold ; 
 
 Youth is wild, and age is tame. 
 Age. I do abhor thee, 
 Youth, I do adore thee_^ 
 
 O, my love, my love is young! 
 Age, I "do def'y thee; 
 O sweet shepherd, hie thee. 
 
 For methmks tliou stay'st too long. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, 
 
 A shining gloss, that fadoth suddenly ; 
 
 A Uower that dies when first it 'gins to bud ; 
 
 A brittle glass, that's broken presently : 
 A doubtful good, a glos^, a gla'^s, a tiower, 
 Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour. 
 
 And as goods lost arc seld or never found, 
 As (aded gloss no rubbing will refresh. 
 As (lowers dead, lie witht'r'd on the ground, 
 As broken glass no cement can redress, 
 So beauty, blemish 'd once, for ever's lost. 
 In spite of phj-sic, painting, pain, and cost. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Good night, good rest. Ah ! neither be my share : 
 She bade good night, that kept my rest away ; 
 And dall me to a cabin hang'd with care, 
 To descant on the doubts of my decay. 
 F:irewell, quoth she, and conie again to-morrow, 
 Farewell I could not, for 1 supp'd with sorrow. 
 
 Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile. 
 In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether: 
 *T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 
 *T may be, again to make me wander thither: 
 U'an'ler, a word for shadows like myself, 
 As take the pain, but caunot pluck the pelf. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east ! 
 My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise 
 Poth cite each moving sense from idle rest, 
 Not daring trust the office of mine eyes. 
 While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, 
 And wish her lays were tuned like the lark ; 
 
 For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, 
 And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: 
 The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty ; 
 Heart hath his lM)pe, and eyes their wished sight ; 
 Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sor- 
 row ; 
 For why ? she sigh'd, and bade me come to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Were 1 with her. the night would post too soon ; 
 But now are minutes added to the hours ; 
 To spite me now, each minute seems a moon; 
 Yet nnt for me, shine sun to succor llowers I 
 Back nighl, peep day: good day, of night now 
 
 borrow : 
 Short, ui;.-ht, to-night, and length thyself to-mor- 
 row. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, 
 That liked of her master as well as well might be, 
 Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that 
 
 eye could see. 
 Her fancy (ell a turning. 
 Long was the combat doubtful, that lo\e with love 
 
 did tight, 
 To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant 
 
 knight: 
 To put in practice either, alas it was a spite 
 
 Unto the silly damsel. 
 But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, 
 That nothing could be used, to turn tiiein both to 
 
 sain, 
 For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with 
 
 disdain: 
 Alas, she could not help it ! 
 Thus art. with arms contending, was victor of the 
 
 day, 
 Which by a gitlof learnins did bear the maid away: 
 Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady 
 
 gay;' 
 
 For now my song is ended. 
 
 XV. 
 
 On a day (alack the day!). 
 Love, whose month was ever May, 
 Spied a blossom passing fair, 
 Playing in the wanton air: 
 Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
 All unseen, 'gan passage find; 
 Tliat the lover, sick to death, 
 Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
 Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
 Air. would I might triumph so! 
 But alas, my hand hath sworn 
 Ne'er to pluck thee from tliy thorn : 
 Vow, alack, for youth unmeet. 
 Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. 
 Do not call it sin in ine, 
 Tliat I am Ibrswoni for thee ; 
 Thou for \vhom Jove would swear 
 Juno but an Ethiope were ; 
 And deny himself for Jove, 
 Turning mortal lor thy love. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 My flocks feed not. 
 My ewes breed not. 
 My rams speed not, 
 
 All is amiss : 
 Love is dying. 
 Faith's defying. 
 Heart's denying, 
 
 Causer of this. 
 
 All my merry jigs are quite forgot, 
 All my lady's love is lost, God wot: 
 Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, 
 There a nay is placed without remove. 
 Out^ silly cross 
 Wrought all my loss; 
 
 frowning Fortune, cursed fickle dame! 
 For now I see, 
 Inconstancy 
 
 More in women than in men remain. 
 
 In black mourn I, 
 All fears scorn I, 
 Love hath forlorn me, 
 
 Living in thrall: 
 Heart is bleeding, 
 All help needing, 
 (O cruel speeding !) 
 
 Fraughled with gall. 
 My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,2 
 I\Iy wether's bell rings doleful knell; 
 My curtail dog, that wont to ha^e play'd, 
 Plays not at all. but seems afraid; 
 With sighs so deep, 
 Procures to weep. 
 
 In howling-wi-^e. to see my doleful plight. 
 How si:ihs resound 
 Throui;h fuMrlh-ss t^rouud. 
 Like a thousand \;iuiiuish'd men in bloody fight! 
 iTn no degreo. 
 
PASSIONATE PILGRIM. 
 
 813 
 
 Clear wells spring not, 
 Sweet birds sin^ not, 
 Green plants bring not 
 
 Forth; they die : 
 Herds stand weeping, 
 Flocks all sleeping, 
 Nymphs back peeping 
 
 Fearfully. 
 All our pleasure known to us poor swains, 
 All our merry meetings on the plains, 
 All our evenmg sport from us is tied, 
 All our lo^e is lost, for Love is dead. 
 Farewell, sweet love, 
 Thy like ne'er was 
 
 for a sweet content, the cause of all my 
 moan : 
 Poor Coridon 
 Must live alone. 
 
 Other help for him I see that there is none. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 When as thine eye hath chose the dame, 
 And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike, 
 Let reason rule things worthy blame. 
 As well as fancy, partial wiglit : 
 
 Take counsel of some wiser head, 
 
 Neither too young, nor yet unwed. 
 
 And when thou com'st thy tale to tell, 
 Smooth not thy tongue with tiled talk, 
 Lest she some subtle practice smell; 
 (A cripple soon can find a halt;) 
 
 But plainly say thou lov'st lier well. 
 
 And set her person forth to sell. 
 
 What though her frowning brows be bent, 
 
 Her cloudy looks will calm ere oight; 
 
 And then too late slie will repent. 
 
 That thus dissembled her delight; 
 And twice desu'e, ere it be day, 
 That which with scorn she put away. 
 
 What though she strive to try her strength, 
 And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, 
 Her feeble force will yield at length, 
 When craft hath taught her thus to say: 
 
 "Had women been so strong as men, 
 
 In laith you had not had it then." 
 
 And to her will frame all thy ways; 
 Spare not to spend, — and cluedy there 
 Where thy desert may merit praise, 
 By ringing in thy lady's ear: 
 
 The strongest castle, tower, and town, 
 
 The golden bullet beats it down. 
 
 Sen'C always with assured trust, 
 
 And in thy suit be huml)lr, true ; 
 
 Unless thy lady prove unjust, 
 
 Press never thou to choose anew : 
 
 When time shall »crve, be thou not slack 
 To profler, though she put thee back. 
 
 The wiles and guiles that women work, 
 Dissembled with an outward show. 
 The tricks and toys tliat in them lurk, 
 Tlie cock that treads them shall not know. 
 Plave you not heard it said full ol^, 
 A woiiian's nay doth stand tor nought] 
 
 Think women still to strive with men. 
 To sin, and never for to saint : 
 There is no heaven, by holy then, 
 When time with age shall them attaint. 
 
 Were kisses all the joys in bed. 
 
 One woman would another wed. 
 
 But soft; enough. — too much I fear. 
 Lest that my mistress hear my song; 
 Siie'U not stick to round me i' Ih' car, 
 To teach my tongue to be so long: 
 
 Yet will she blush, here be it said, 
 
 To hear her secrets so bewray 'd. 
 
 xvin. 
 
 Live with me, and be my love, 
 And we will all the pleasures prove 
 That hills and valleys, dales, and fields. 
 And all tiie craggy mountains yields. 
 
 There will we sit upon the rocks, 
 
 And see tlic shepherds feed their flocks, 
 
 By shallow rivers, by whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
 There will I make thee a bed of roses, 
 With a thousand fragrant posies, 
 A cap of (lowers and a kirtle 
 Kmbroider'd all with leaves of mjTtle, 
 
 A belt of straw and ivy buds, 
 With coral clasps and amber studs; 
 And if these pleasures may thee move. 
 Then live with me, and be my love 
 
 Love's Answer. 
 If that the world and love were young, 
 And truth in every shepherd's tongue, 
 Tliese pD'Ity pleasures might me move 
 To live with thee and be thy love. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 As it fell upon a day, 
 
 In the merry month of May, 
 
 Silting in a ])leasant shade, 
 
 Wliich a grove of myrtles made, 
 
 Beasts did leap, and birds did sing. 
 
 Trees did grow, and plants did spring: 
 
 Kvery thing did lianish moan. 
 
 Save the nij;hlnigaie alone : 
 
 She, poor bird, as all forlorn, 
 
 Lean'd her breast up-till a Ihorn. 
 
 And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, 
 
 7'iiat to hear it was great pity : 
 
 Fie, lie, lie, now would she cry, 
 
 Teru, Teru, by and by; 
 
 That to hearjier so complain, 
 
 Scarce I could from tears refrain; 
 
 For her grids so lively shown. 
 
 Made me think upon mine own. 
 
 Ah! tiiought I, thou mourn'st in vain ; 
 
 None take pity on thy pain : 
 
 Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee; 
 
 Rnthicss bears, they will not clieer thee; 
 
 King Pandion, he is dcyd ; 
 
 All thy friends arc Inpji'd in lead : 
 
 All tliy lellow-birds do sing. 
 
 Careless of thy sorrowing, 
 
 P>'en so, poor" bird, like thee, 
 
 None alive will pily me. 
 
 Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd, 
 
 Thou and I were both beguil'd. 
 
 Every one that flatters thee, 
 
 Is no friend in misery. 
 
 Words arc easy like the wind; 
 
 Faitliful friends are hard to find. 
 
 V^vcry miui will be thy friend, 
 
 Wtnlst thou hast wherewith to spend; 
 
 But if store of crowns be scant. 
 
 No man will supply thy want. 
 
 If that one be prodigal. 
 
 Bountiful tliey will him call; 
 
 And with such like flattering, 
 
 "Pily but he were a king." 
 
 If he be addict lo vice, 
 
 Quickly him they will entice; 
 
 H to women he be bent, 
 
 They have iuin at commandement, 
 
 But if fortune once do frown. 
 
 Then larevvell his great renown: 
 
 They that fawn'd on him before. 
 
 Use his company no more. 
 
 He that is thy friend indeed. 
 
 He will help thee in thy need; 
 
 If thou sorrow, he will'wcep; 
 
 If thou wake, he cannot sleep: 
 
 Thus of every grief in heart 
 
 He with thee doth bear a part. 
 
 These are certain signs to know 
 
 Faithful friend from flattering foe. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Take, oh, take those lips away, 
 That so sweetly were forsworn , 
 
 And those eyes, the break of day, 
 Lights that do mislead the morn: 
 
 But my kisses bring again. 
 
 Seals of love, but seai'd in vain. 
 
 Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow 
 WhicJi tliy frozen bosom bears, 
 
814 
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 On whose tops the pinks that grow, 
 
 Are of those tliat April wears, 
 But first set my poor heart free. 
 Bound in tliose icy cliains by thee. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Let the bird of loudest lay, 
 
 On the sole Arabian tree. 
 
 Herald sad and trumpet be, 
 
 To whose sound ciiaste wings obey. 
 
 But thou, shrieking harbinger. 
 Foul precurrcr of the hend, 
 Augur of the li^ver's end. 
 To this troop come thou not near. 
 
 From this session interdict 
 Every fowl of tyrant wing, 
 Save the eagle, leathered king: 
 Keep the obsequy so strict. 
 
 Let the priest in surplice white, 
 That defunctivc music can,3 
 Be the death-divining swan. 
 Lest the requiem lack his right. 
 
 And thou, treble-dated crow. 
 
 That thy sable gender mak'st 
 
 With th.' brealh thou givest and tak'st, 
 
 Mongst iiur mourners shalt thou go. 
 
 Here the anthem doth coinmence: 
 Love and constancy is dead ; 
 rhrenix and the turtle tied 
 In a mulual Ilanie from hence. 
 
 So they lov'd, as love in twain 
 Had the essence but in one; 
 Two dislincts, division none: 
 Number there in love was slain. 
 Hearts remote, yet not asunder ; 
 Distance, and no space was seen 
 'Twixt the turtle and his queen: 
 But in them it were a wonder. 
 > Kdows. 
 
 So between their love did shine, 
 That the turtle saw his right 
 Flaming in the pho'nix' sight: 
 Either was the other's mine. 
 
 Property was thus appall'd, 
 That the self was not the same ; 
 Single nature's double name 
 Neither two nor one was call'd. 
 
 Reason, in itself confounded. 
 Saw division grow together; 
 To themselves yet either-neither. 
 Simple were so well compounded : 
 
 That it cried how true a twain 
 Seenieth this concordant one ! 
 Love hath reason, reason none, 
 If what parts can so remain. 
 
 Whereupon it made this threne' 
 To the phoenix and the dove, 
 Co-supreines and slars of love ; 
 As chorus to their tragic scene. 
 
 Threxos. 
 
 Beauty, truth, .and rarity, 
 Grace in all simplicity, 
 Here inclos'd in cinders lie. 
 
 Death is now the phoenix' nest; 
 And the turtle's loyal breast 
 To eternity doth rest, 
 
 Leaving no posterity:— 
 'Twas not their inhrniity, 
 It was married chastity. 
 
 Truth may seem, but cannot be : 
 Beauty brag, but 'tis not she: 
 Truth and beauty buried be. 
 
 To this urn let those repair. 
 That are either true or liiir; 
 For these dead birds sigh a prayer. 
 * Funeral song. 
 
 A LOYER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 From ofTa hill whose concave womb re-worded 
 
 A iilaintful story from a sistering vale, 
 
 My spirits to attend this double voice accorded. 
 
 And down I lay to list the sad tun'd tale: 
 
 Ere long espied a tickle maid full pale, 
 
 Tearing of papers, lireaking rings a-twain. 
 
 Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. 
 
 Upon her head a platted hive a straw, 
 
 Which fortified her visage from the sun, 
 
 Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw 
 
 The carcase of a beauty sjient and doiio. 
 
 Time had not scythed all that youth begun, 
 
 Nor youth all quit; but, spite of Heaven's fell 
 
 rage. 
 Some beauty pcep'd through lattice of scar'd age. 
 
 Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, 
 Whichon it had conceited characters, 
 Laund'ringi the silken figures in the brine 
 That season'd woe had iielleted^ in tears. 
 And olten reading what contents it bears; 
 As often shrieking uiidistinguish'd woe. 
 In clamors of all size, both high and low. 
 
 Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride, 
 As they did battery to the spheres mlend ; 
 Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied 
 To th' orbed earth; sometimes they do exiend 
 Their view right on; anon their gazes lend 
 ' Washing. a Formed into pollets, or small h.ills. 
 
 To every place at once, and nowhere fix'd. 
 The mind and sight distractedly commix'd. 
 
 Her hair, nor loose, nor tied in formal plat, 
 Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of piide ; 
 For some, untuck'd, descended her sheav'd-i liat, 
 Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; 
 Some in her threaden fillet still did hide, 
 .\nd, true to bondage, would not break from thence, 
 Though slackly braided in loose negligence. 
 
 A thousand fitvors from a maund' she drew 
 
 Of amber, crystal, and of bedded jet. 
 
 Which one by one she in a river threw. 
 
 Upon whose weeping margent she was set; 
 
 Like usury, applying wet fo wet, 
 
 Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall 
 
 Where want cries" some," but where excess begs all. 
 
 Of folded schedules had she many a one. 
 
 Which she pcrus'd.sigh'd, lore, and gave the flood; 
 
 C'rack'd many a ring ol jiosied gold and bone, 
 
 Bidding them find tlieir seinilchres in mud ; 
 
 Found yet more letters sadiv penn'd in blood. 
 
 With sleided silk feat and atfectedly 
 
 Ensvvath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy. 
 
 These often balh'd she in her fluxive eyes, 
 And often kiss'd. and often 'gan to tear; 
 Cried, "O false blood! thou register of lies, 
 AVhat unapproved witness dost thou bear! ' 
 
 s Mndu of straw. * Uasket 
 
A LOVER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 815 
 
 Ink would have seem'd more black and damned 
 
 here !" 
 This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, 
 Big discontent so breaking their contents. 
 
 A reverend man that graz'd his cattle nigh, 
 
 Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew 
 
 Of court, of city, and had let go by 
 
 The swiltest hours, observed as they Hew, 
 
 Towards this afflicted tancy» fastly drew ; 
 
 And, privileg'd by age, desires to know 
 
 In brief, the grounds and motives of her woe. 
 
 So slides he down upon his grained bat,6 
 Ai.d comely-distant sits he by her side; 
 When he again desires her, being sat, 
 Her grievance with his bearing to divide: 
 If that Ifom liim there may be aught applied 
 Winch may lier sullcriug ecstasy assuage, 
 'Tis prorais'd in the charity of age. 
 
 '•Father," she says, "though in me you behold 
 The injury of many a blasting hour, 
 Let it not tell your judgment I am old ; 
 Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power; 
 [ might as yet have been a spreading llower, 
 Kresh to myself, if I had selt-applied 
 Love to myself, and to no love beside. 
 
 But woe is me! too early I attended 
 
 A youthful suit (it was to gain my gracel 
 
 Of one by nature's outwards so comiaenaed, 
 
 That maiden's eyes stuck over all his lace : 
 
 Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place; 
 
 And when in his lair jiarts she did abide, 
 
 She was new lodg'd, and newly dciftcd. 
 
 His browmy locks did hang in crooked curls; 
 And every light occasion of the wind 
 Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. 
 What's sweet to do, to do will aptly tind : 
 Kach eye that saw him did enchant the mind ; 
 For on his visage was in little drawn. 
 What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn. 
 
 Small show of man was yet upon his chin; 
 His phcenix down began but to appear, 
 Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, , 
 Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear ; 
 Yet sliow'd his visage by that cost most dear; 
 And nice allections wavering stood in doubt 
 If best 'twere as it was, or best without. 
 
 His qualities were beauteous as his form. 
 
 For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; 
 
 Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm 
 
 As ort 'twixt May and April is to see. 
 
 When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. 
 
 His rudeness so with his authoriz'd youth, 
 
 Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. 
 
 Well could he ride, and ollen men would say 
 'Tliat horse his mettle fnnn his ruler takes : 
 Proud of subjection, noble by the sway. 
 What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop 
 
 he makes !' 
 And controversy hence a question takes, 
 Whellier the hoVse by him became his deed, 
 Or he liis manage by the well-doing steed. 
 
 But quickly on his side the verdict went; 
 
 His real habitude gave life and grace 
 
 To apperiaiuings and to ornament, 
 
 Accomplish'd in himsell', not in his case ;^ 
 
 All aids, themselves made fairer by their place. 
 
 Came lor additions; yet their purpos'd trim 
 
 Piece! not his grace, but were all graced by him. 
 
 So on the tip of his subduing tongue 
 All kind of argumenLs and quesiion <icrp^ 
 All replication prompt, and reason strong. 
 For his advantage slill did wake and sleeji: 
 To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, 
 He had the dialect and dillerent skill, 
 Catching all passions in his craft of will ; 
 
 That he did in the general bosom reign 
 Of young, of old ; and sexes both enchanted. 
 To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain 
 In personal duty, lollowiug where he haunted : 
 f;onsents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted ; 
 
 » Odo possessed by £mcy. • Club. 
 
 ' Outward show. 
 
 And dialogued for him what he would say, 
 Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey. 
 
 Many there were that did his picture get. 
 
 To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind ; 
 
 Like fools that in the imagination set 
 
 The goodly objects which abroad they find 
 
 Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd; 
 
 And laboring in more pleasures to bestow them, 
 
 Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them' 
 
 So many have, that never touch'd his hand. 
 Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his heart. 
 My woeful self, that did in freedom stand. 
 And was my own fee simple, (not in part,) 
 What with his art in youth, and youth in art, 
 Threw my atlections in his charmed power, 
 Reserv'd the stalk, and gave him all my dower. 
 
 Y'et did I not, as some my equals did. 
 
 Demand of him, nor being desired, yielded; 
 
 Finding myself in honor so lorbid. 
 
 With safest distance I mine honor shielded : 
 
 fcixperience for me many bulwarks budded 
 
 Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil 
 
 Of this liilse jewel, and his amorous spoil. 
 
 But ah ! who ever shunn'd by precedent 
 
 The destin'd ill she must herself assay ! 
 
 Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content, 
 
 To put the by-pass'd perils in her way ! 
 
 Counsel may stop a while what will not stay ; 
 
 For when we rage, advice is often seen 
 
 By blunting us to make our wits more keen. 
 
 Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood. 
 That we must curb it upon others' proof, 
 To be forbid the sweet-s that seem so good, 
 For fear of harms that preach in our belioof. 
 
 appetite, from judgment stand aloof! 
 The one a palate hath that needs will taste. 
 Though reason weep, and cry ' it is thy last.' 
 
 For further I could say, 'this man's untrue,' 
 And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; 
 Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew, 
 Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; 
 Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling ; 
 Thought characters, and words, merely but art, 
 And bastards of his foul adulterate hearL 
 
 And long upon these terms I held my city. 
 Till thus he 'gan besiege me; 'Gentle maid. 
 Have of my suHering youth some feeling pity. 
 And be not of my holy vows afraid ; 
 That's to you sworn, to none was ever said ; 
 For feasts of love I have been call'd unto, 
 Till now did ne'er invite, nor never vow. 
 
 All my ofTences that abroad you see, 
 
 Are errors of the blood, none of the mind : 
 
 Love made them not; with acture they may be, 
 
 Where neither party is nor true nor kind : 
 
 They sought their shame that so their shainc did 
 
 find ; 
 And so much less of shame in me remains, 
 Hy how much of me their reproach contains. 
 
 Among the many that mine eyes have seen. 
 
 Not one whose fiame my heart so much as warm'd, 
 
 Or my allcclion put lo the smallest teen. 
 
 Or any of my leisure ever charm'd: 
 
 Harm have I dime to them, but ne'er was harm'd* 
 
 Kept hearls in liveries, but mine own was free, 
 
 And reign'd, commanding in his monarchj'. 
 
 Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me, 
 
 Of paled pearls, and rubies red as blood; 
 
 Figuring that they their passions likewise lent mo 
 
 Of grief and blushes, aplly understood 
 
 In bloodless white and the encriirison'd mood; 
 
 EIli*cts of terror and dear modesty, 
 
 Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly. 
 
 And lo ! behold these talents of their hair. 
 With twisted metal amorously imjileucird,^ 
 
 1 have recciv'd from many a several fair, 
 (Their kind acceptance weepingly bcseech'd,) 
 With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd. 
 And deep-brain'd sonnets that did amplify 
 Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality. 
 
 • Interwoven. 
 
816 
 
 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Love*s arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst schawl 
 
 'gainst shame, 
 And sweetens, in llie suffering pangs it bears, 
 The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears. 
 
 Now all these hearts that do on mine depend* 
 Feeling it break, with bleeding groans thej pine, 
 And supplicant their sighs to you extend, 
 To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine, 
 Lending soft audience to my sweet design. 
 And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath, 
 That shall prefer and undertake my troth.' 
 
 This s:iid, his watery eyes he did dismount. 
 Whose sights till then were levelfd on ^ny face, 
 Each clieek a river running from a fuunt 
 With brinish current downward tloA-'d apace: 
 O how tlie channel to the stream gave grace ! 
 Who, ghiz'd with crystal, gale' the glowing roses 
 That llame through water which their hue incloses. 
 
 liither, what a hell of witchcraft lies 
 
 In the small orb of one particular tear! 
 
 But with the inundation of the eyes 
 
 What rocky heart to water will riot wear? 
 
 What IjriM-^t so cold that is iiot warmed here? 
 
 O clelt cllrct! cokl modest>, hot wratli. 
 
 Both hre from hence and chill extincture hath I 
 
 For lo ! his passion, but an art of craft. 
 
 Even there resolv'd my reason into tears ; 
 
 There my white stoic of chastity I dalfd, 
 
 Shook olf my sober guard, and civil- lears; 
 
 Appear to him, as he to me appears, 
 
 All melting; though our drops this diireronce bora. 
 
 His poison'd me, and mine did him restore. 
 
 In him a plenitude of subtle matter, 
 
 Applied to cautels,3 all strange form receives, 
 
 Of burning blushes, or of v/eeping water, 
 
 Or swooning paleness ; and he takes and leaves, 
 
 In cither's aptness, as it best deceives, 
 
 To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, 
 
 Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows ; 
 
 That not a heart which in his level came, 
 Could scape tJie hail of his all-hurting aim. 
 Showing lair nature is both kind and tame. 
 And, veil'd in them, did win whom lie would 
 
 maim: 
 Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; 
 When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury. 
 He preacli'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chastity. 
 
 Thus merely with the garment of a Grace 
 The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd, 
 That the unexperienc'd gave tJie tempter place. 
 Which, like a cherubim, above them hover'd. 
 Who. young and simple, would not be so luver'd? 
 Ah me ! I toll ; and yet do question make 
 What I should do again for such a sake. 
 
 O, that infected moisture of his eye, 
 0, that false tire which in his cheek so glow'd, 
 O, that Ibrc'd thunder from his heart did tly, 
 O, that sad breath his spungy lungs bcstow'd, 
 O. all that borrow'd motion, seeming ow'd, 
 Would yet again betray tJie fore-betray'd, 
 And new pervert a reconciled maid V 
 * Got, procured. » Decorous. ' Deceitful purposes. 
 
 The diamond, why 'twas beautiful and hard, 
 Whereto his invis'd^ properties did tend; 
 The deei)-green emerald, in whose fresh regard 
 Wcaiv siglits tJioir sickly radiance do amend: 
 The heavm-hued s;i]iphire and the opal blend 
 With objecis niamlold ; each several stone. 
 With wit well blazon'd,smird or made some mo;^n. 
 
 Lo! all these trophies of affections hot, 
 
 Of pensive and subdued desires the tender. 
 
 Nature lialh charg'd me that I lioard them not, 
 
 But yield them up where I myself must render. 
 
 That is, to you, my origin and ender: 
 
 For these, of force, must your oblations be. 
 
 Since I their altar, you enpatron me. 
 
 then advance of yours that phraseless hand, 
 Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; 
 Take all these similes to your own command, 
 Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did raise: 
 W^iiat me your minister, for you obeys, 
 Works under you; and to your audit comes 
 Their distract parcels in combined sums. 
 
 Lo ! this device was sent me from a nun 
 
 Or sister sanctified of holiest note; 
 
 Which late her noble suit in court did slum. 
 
 Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote ; 
 
 P'or she was sought by spirits of richest coat. 
 
 But kept cold distance, and did thence remove, 
 
 To spend her living in eternal love. 
 
 But 0, my sweet, what labor is't to leave 
 
 The tiling we have not, mastering whatnot strives? 
 
 Paling the place which did no form receive, 
 
 Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves : 
 
 She that her fame so to herself contrives, 
 
 Tlie scars of battle 'scapeth by the fight. 
 
 And makes her absence valiant, not her might. 
 
 pardon me, in that my boast is true ; 
 The accident which brought mc to her eye, 
 Upon tJie moment did her force subdue, 
 And now she Tvould the caged cloister lly: 
 Religious Jove put out religion's eye : 
 
 Not to be tempted, would sJie be immur'd. 
 And now, to tempt all, liberty procur'd. 
 
 How mighty then you are, O hear me tell ; 
 The broken bosoms that to me belong 
 Have emptied all their fountains in my well. 
 And mine I pour your ocean all among : 
 
 1 strong u'er them, and you o'er me being strong, 
 Must for your victory us all congest, 
 
 As compound love to physic your cold breast. 
 
 My parts had power to charm a sacred nun, 
 Who discipiin'd and dieted in grace, 
 Believ'd tier eyes when they to assail begun, 
 All vows and consecrations giving place. 
 O most potential love ! vow, bond, nor space. 
 In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor conline. 
 For thou art all, and all things else are tliine. 
 
 When thou impressest, what are precepts worth 
 Of ^tale example ? When thou wilt infiame, 
 How coldly those impediments stand tbrth 
 Of wealth'of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! 
 e Invisible. 
 
 THE END. 
 

 GLOSSARY. 
 
 OF OBSOLETE WORDS, AND OF WORDS VARYING FROM THEIR ORDINARY SIGNIFICATION^. 
 
 A. 
 
 Anthropophagi, cannibals. 
 
 R. 
 
 Abate, to depress, sink, subdue. 
 
 Antick. the fool of the old play. 
 
 Baccare, stand back, give place. 
 
 A B C, a catechism. 
 
 Antiquity, old age. 
 
 Bairn, brushwood. 
 
 Abbor, to protest against. 
 
 Antres, caves and dens. 
 
 Baldrick, a belt. 
 
 Aljects, debased servile persons. 
 
 Appeache, to impeach. 
 
 ISale. misery. 
 
 Able, to qualify or uphold. 
 
 Apfx-al, to accuse. 
 
 Hiileful, baneful. 
 
 Abortive, isi^uins liefdre its time. 
 
 Apjieared, made apparent. 
 
 italked, lathed or piled Up. 
 
 Absolute, complete, perfect. 
 
 Apple-john, an apple that will keep 
 
 Uallase, ballast. 
 
 Abuse, deception. 
 
 for two years. 
 
 llalm, the oil of consecration. 
 
 Abused, deceived. 
 
 Apply, to attend to, to consider. 
 
 Ban, curse. 
 
 Aby, to pay dear for, to rue, to suffer. 
 
 Appointment, preparation. 
 
 Band, bond. 
 
 Abysm, abyss. 
 
 Apprehension, opinion. 
 
 Bandog, village-dog. 
 
 Accite, to cite or summon. 
 
 Apprehensive, quick of comprehen- 
 
 Bandy, to exchange smartly. 
 
 Accuse, accusation. 
 
 eion. 
 
 Bank, to sail along banks. 
 
 Achieve, to obtain. 
 
 Approbation, entry or probation. 
 
 Banning, cursing. 
 
 Aconitum, wolf 's-banR. 
 
 Approof, approbation, proof. 
 
 Banquet, a slight repast. 
 
 Acquittance, requital. 
 
 Approve, to justify, prove, establish. 
 
 Bar, barrier. 
 
 Action, direction by mute signs, charge, 
 
 Approved, experienced. 
 
 Barbasou. the name of a demon. 
 
 or accusation. 
 
 Approvers, those who try. 
 
 Itarbe. a kind of vail. 
 
 Action- taking, litigous. 
 
 Aqua-vita?, strong waters, probably 
 
 Barltcd, warlikely caparisoned. 
 
 Acturcs, actions. 
 
 usquebaugh. 
 
 Uarber-mnnger.an associate of barbers. 
 
 Additions, titles or characters. 
 
 Arabian bird, the phenix. 
 
 Bare, to shave. 
 
 Address, to prepare, to make ready. 
 
 Arch, chief. 
 
 Bnre, mere. 
 
 Addressed or addrest, ready. 
 
 .A.rgentine, silver. 
 
 Barful, full of impediments. 
 
 Admittance, favor. 
 
 Argentine, the goddess Diana. 
 
 Barm, yeiLst. 
 
 Advance, to prefer. 
 
 Argier, Algiers. 
 
 Barn or bairn, a child. 
 
 Advertising, attentive. 
 
 Argosies, ships laden with great 
 
 Barnacles, a slu-ll-fish. 
 
 Adversity, a^ntrariety, 
 
 wealth. 
 
 Barns, keeps in a barn. 
 
 Advertisement, admonition. 
 
 Argument, subject for conversation, 
 
 Barred, ignorant. 
 
 Advice, consideration, thought, dis- 
 
 evidence, pratf. 
 
 Base, dislionored. 
 
 cretion. 
 
 Arm, to take up in the arms. 
 
 Base, a ru.sUc gtime ailleil prison-base. 
 
 Advise, to consider, to recollect. 
 
 Araunt, avaunt. liogone. 
 
 Bases, a kind of loose breeches worn 
 
 AdvLseU, cool, cautious. 
 
 A-row, successively. 
 
 by equestrian knights. 
 
 At;ry, or Aiery, a hawk's or eagle'^ 
 
 Art, practice as distinguished from 
 
 B.a.'iilisks, a species of cannon. 
 
 nest. 
 
 theory: also, theory. 
 
 Btista, *tis enough. 
 
 Affect the letter, to practice allitera- 
 
 Articulate, to enter into articles. 
 
 Bastard, nusin wiue. 
 
 tion. 
 
 Artificial, ingenious, artful. 
 
 Bat. a club. 
 
 Affect, love. 
 
 As, as if. 
 
 Bate, strife. 
 
 Affection, affectation, imagination. 
 
 Ascauut, askew, sideways. 
 
 Bate, to flutter as a hawk. 
 
 Affectioued. affected. 
 
 Aspect, countenance. 
 
 Batlet, an instrument with which 
 
 Affects, affections. 
 
 Aspersion, sprinkling. 
 
 washers used to beat clothes. 
 
 Affeered, confirmed. 
 
 As point, completely armed. 
 
 Batten, to grow fat. 
 
 Alfied, betrothed. 
 
 Assay, test. 
 
 Battle, army. 
 
 Aflined, joined by affinity. 
 
 Ascapart, a giant. 
 
 Bawcock, a jolly fellow. 
 
 Affrort. to confront. 
 
 Assinego, a male ass. 
 
 Bay, the space Ijetweeu the main 
 
 Affy, to betroth. 
 
 Astringer, a gentleman falconer. 
 
 beams of a house. 
 
 Aglef-baby, a diminutive being, not 
 
 .\ssurance. convevance or deed. 
 
 Bay-curU-il, a bay docked horse. 
 
 exceeding the tag of a point, from 
 
 .\ssured, affianced. 
 
 Biiy-window, a bfrw-wiudow. 
 
 aiguiUties. 
 
 Ates, instigate from Ate, the goddess 
 
 Beadsmen, religious persons, main- 
 
 Agnize, acknowledge, confess, vow. 
 
 of bluodshed. 
 
 tained to pray for their benefactor. 
 
 A-good. in good earnest. 
 
 Atomies, minute particles visible in 
 
 Beak, the forec-mtle. 
 
 Aim, guess, suspicion. 
 
 the sun's rays. 
 
 Bear a braiu, to perfectly resemble. 
 
 Airy fame, mere verbal eulogy. 
 
 Atta.sked, taken to task. 
 
 Beard, to defy. 
 
 Aider-liefest, best beloved. 
 
 Attended, waited for. 
 
 Bearing, demeanor. 
 
 Ale. a merry-meeting. 
 
 Attent, attentive. 
 
 Bearing-cloth, a mantel used at chris- 
 
 A'life. at life. 
 
 Atone, to reconcile. 
 
 tenings. 
 
 Allow, to approve. 
 
 Attest, attestation. 
 
 Beat (in falconry), to flatter. 
 
 All.'wance, approbation. 
 
 Attorney, deputation. 
 
 Beating, hammering, dwelling upon. 
 
 Amaze, to perplex. 
 
 Attorneyship, tiie discretional agency 
 
 Beaver, helmet in general. 
 
 Amazonian chin, a beardless chin. 
 
 of another. 
 
 Beck, a Salutation made with the head. • 
 
 Amcs-ncc, the lowest chance of the 
 
 Attornied, supplied by substitution of 
 
 Becomed, l>ecoming. 
 
 dice. 
 
 embassies. 
 
 Beetle, to hang over the base. 
 
 Amiss, misfortune. 
 
 Audacious, spirited, animnted. 
 
 Behave, to manage. 
 
 Amort, dispirited. 
 
 Audrey, a corruption of Kthelrea.. 
 
 Behests, commands. 
 
 An'. a.<iif. 
 
 Angurs, prognostications. 
 
 Beholding, viewing with regard. 
 
 Anchor, a hermit. 
 
 .\ukward, adverse. 
 
 Behowl, to bowl at. 
 
 Ancient, an ensign or standard-bearer. 
 
 Aunts, strumpets. 
 
 Being, abode. 
 
 Angle, a fishing rod. 
 
 Authentic, Iciirned. 
 
 Beldame, ancient mother. 
 
 Anight, in the night. 
 
 Awful, reverend. 
 
 Bedee'd, becalmed. 
 
 Anawer, retaliation. 
 
 Awlcis, failing to produce awe. 
 
 Belongings, endowments. 
 
 (819) 
 
820 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 
 Bc-DiPte, be-measure. 
 
 Break, to begin. 
 
 Casques, helmets. 
 
 Be-moileJ, bedraggled, bemirod. 
 
 Break up, to carve. 
 
 Cassock, a horseman's loose coat. "^ 
 
 Bcndiug, unequal to the wvight. 
 
 Ureak with, to break the matter to. 
 
 Cast, to empty; also to dismiss, reject. 
 
 Benefit, beoefiriary. 
 
 IJreast. voice. 
 
 Ca.st, reckoned. 
 
 Bent, utmost degree of any passion. 
 
 Breath, speech ; also exercise. 
 
 Ciu^tilian. an opprobions term. 
 
 Benumbed, intlexiblc. 
 
 Breathing-courtesy, mere verbal com- 
 
 Casliliano vuigo, a cant term of con- 
 
 Betthrew, may ill befall. 
 
 pliment. 
 
 tempt. 
 
 Besmirch, to foul or dirty. 
 
 Breeched, foully sheathed, mired. 
 
 Cast-lips, left off lips. 
 
 Best bravest. 
 
 Breeching, liable to be Cogged. 
 
 Cast the water, to find out disoiders by 
 
 Bestoweil, stowed away, lodged. 
 
 Breathed, inured by constant practice. 
 
 inspecting the urine. 
 
 Bestraught, distracted. 
 
 Breathe, to utter. 
 
 Catalan, a liar. 
 
 Beteem, togive,pourout,permit,suffer. 
 
 Breed-bate, an exciter of quarrels. 
 
 Catling, a small lutestring, made of 
 
 Bewray, betray. 
 
 Bribe-buck, a buck sent as a bribe. 
 
 catgut. 
 
 Bezonian, a mean fellow. 
 
 Bridal, the nuptial fe:ist. 
 
 Cavalero-justice, a cant term. 
 
 Bias-cbeek, swelling oat like the bias 
 
 Bring, to attend or accompany. 
 
 Cavaleroes, gay fellows. 
 
 of a bowl. 
 
 Brize. the gad or horse-fly. 
 
 Caviare, loo good for, or above the com- 
 
 Bid, to invite. 
 
 Broach, to put on the spit, to transfix. 
 
 prehension of; so called from a 
 
 Bid the base, to challenge in a contest. 
 
 Brock, the badger. 
 
 delicacy made of the roe of stur- 
 
 BifolU, two-fold. 
 
 Brogues, a kind of shoes. 
 
 geons, eaten by the quality. 
 
 Bi-rgin, a cap. 
 
 Broken, communicated. 
 
 Cautel. subtlety. 
 
 Billierry, the whortleberry. 
 
 Broker, a match-maker, a procuress. 
 
 Cautel or canile, the corner, or piece 
 
 Bilbo, a Spanish blade, made at Bilboa. 
 
 liruoched, adorned. 
 
 of anything. 
 
 Bilboes, fetters. 
 
 Brought, attended. 
 
 Cautelous, insidious, cautious. 
 
 Bill, articles of accusation. 
 
 Bruw of youth, the height of youth. 
 
 Cearment, the wrapping of an embalm- 
 
 Bill, a weapon, formerly carried by 
 
 Brown-bill, a battle-ax. 
 
 ed body. 
 
 watch meu. 
 
 Brownist, a follower of Brown, a sec- 
 
 Cease, decease. 
 
 Bin, is. 
 
 tarian. 
 
 Censure, to give an opinion. 
 
 Bird-bolt, an arrow shot at binls from 
 
 Grui.Mug-irons, an allusion to the an- 
 
 Centuries, companies of a hundred 
 
 a cro-^ss-bow. 
 
 cient mace. 
 
 meu each. 
 
 Bison, blind. 
 
 Bruit, report with clamor. 
 
 Ceremonious, superstitious. 
 
 Blank, the white mark in a target. . 
 
 Brush of time, decay of time. 
 
 Certes, certainly. 
 
 Blauk and level, mark and aim (terms 
 
 Bug. bugbears, false terrors. 
 
 Ce.es, measure, tax or subsidy. 
 
 of gunnery). 
 
 Bumbard, a large drinking vessel. 
 
 Chair, throne. 
 
 Blaze of youth, the spring of early life. 
 
 Bum;, a cut-purse. 
 
 Chaliced, i. e., flowers with cups, from 
 
 Blear, to deceive. 
 
 Bunting; a bird. 
 
 ciilix. 
 
 Blench, to start off, to fly off. 
 
 Burgonet, a helmet. 
 
 Challenge, the right of refusing a ju- 
 
 Blent, blended. 
 
 Busky. woody. 
 
 ryman. 
 
 Blind worAs, the concilia, or slow- 
 
 Butt-.--haft, an arrow to shoot at shafts 
 
 Chamber, ancient name for London; 
 
 worm. 
 
 with. 
 
 also a piece of ordnance. 
 
 Blood-boltered, daubed with blood. 
 
 Buxom, obedient. 
 
 Chnmberers, intriguers. 
 
 Blowu, puffed up, swollen. 
 
 By "rlakeu, by our lady. 
 
 Cbauipian, an open country. 
 
 Blows, swells. 
 
 
 Chantry, a small chapel juacathedraL 
 
 Bloody, sanguine. 
 
 C. 
 
 Character, hand-writing. 
 
 Blue caps, the Scotch. 
 
 Caddis, worsted lace. 
 
 Characu-ry, the matter with which let- 
 
 Blunt, .stupid, inseofible. 
 
 Cade, a barrel. 
 
 ters are made. 
 
 Blurt, blurted, an expression of con- 
 
 Cadent, falling. 
 
 Chares, task-work. 
 
 tempt. 
 
 Cage, a prison. 
 
 Charge-house, free school. 
 
 Board, to accost. 
 
 Cain-colored, yellow. 
 
 Chariest, most cautious. 
 
 Bcbb, to trick. 
 
 Caitiff, a scoundrel. 
 
 Chariness, caution. 
 
 Bwlgcd, boggled, clumsy. 
 
 Calculate, to foret^-U. 
 
 Charitable, dear, endearing. 
 
 Uodkin, a small dagger. 
 
 Caliver. a musket. 
 
 Charles-wain, the constellation called 
 
 Jtolds. emboldens. 
 
 Call, to visit. 
 
 the bear. 
 
 Itolten, swollen. 
 
 Callet, a woman, a witch. 
 
 Charm your tongue, be silent. 
 
 Bolted, sifted. 
 
 Calling, appellation. 
 
 Charmer, one who deals in magic. 
 
 Boltered, bedaubed. 
 
 Calm, qualm. 
 
 Charneco. a sweet wine. 
 
 Bolting-hutch, the receptacle in which 
 
 Camelet, a place where King Arthur 
 
 Chance, fortune. 
 
 the meal is bolted. 
 
 issupposed to have kept his court. 
 
 Chary, cautious. 
 
 BoDiliard or bunibard, a barrel. 
 
 Canary, a dance. 
 
 Chases, a term in tennis. 
 
 Bombast, the stuffing of clothes. 
 
 Candle-wasters, those who sit up all 
 
 Chaudron, entrails. 
 
 Bona-robas, strumpets. 
 
 night to drink. 
 
 Cheater, for escheatour, an officer in 
 
 Boud, bounden duty. 
 
 Canker, the dog-rose. 
 
 the exchequer. 
 
 Bony or bonny, handsom**. 
 
 Caustick, candlestick. 
 
 Checks, probably for ethics. 
 
 Book, paper of conditions. 
 
 Cantons, cantos. 
 
 Cheer, countenance. 
 
 Boot, profit, something over and above. 
 
 Canvas, to sift. 
 
 Cherry-pit, a game with cherry-stones. 
 
 Bore, demeaned. 
 
 Canvas-climber, a sailor 
 
 CheveriI,soft leather; also, conscience. 
 
 Bore, the caliber of a gun. 
 
 Cap. the top, the chief. 
 
 Chew, to ruminate, consider. 
 
 ISore.a, stabs. 
 
 Cap, to salute by taking off the cap. 
 
 Chewet, a chattering bird. 
 
 Bordered, restrained. 
 
 Capable impressure. hullow.mark. 
 
 Chide, to resound, to echo ; also, to 
 
 Bosky, woody. 
 
 Capitulate, to make head against. 
 
 .'fcold, be clamorous. 
 
 Bosom wish, heart's desire. 
 
 Capocchia, a =ot. 
 
 Chiding, Sound, noisy. 
 
 Bots, worms in a horse's ttomach. 
 
 Capon, metaphor for a letter. 
 
 Child, a knight, a hero. 
 
 Borne in hand, deceived. 
 
 Capricious, lascivious. 
 
 Cliiki, a femiile infjint. 
 
 Bottled-spider. a large bloated spider. 
 
 Captious, cHpacious. 
 
 Childiiig, unseasonably pregnant. 
 
 BouUed. sifted. 
 
 Ciirack, a ship of great bulk. 
 
 Cliopiiie, a high shoe. 
 
 Bourn, boundary, rivulet. 
 
 Caracls, characters. 
 
 Chough, a bird of the daw species. 
 
 Bow, yoke. 
 
 Carbonado, a piece of meat cut cross- 
 
 Christom or ehrisom, the white cloth 
 
 Bowlius or bowlines, tackle of a ship. 
 
 ways for the gridiron. 
 
 put on a new baptized cliild. 
 
 Bower, a chamber. 
 
 Card, a sea-chart, perhaps also the 
 
 Chuck, chicken, a term of endearment. 
 
 Brace, armor for the arm. 
 
 compass. 
 
 Chuff, rich, avaricious. 
 
 Brach. a hound. 
 
 Carded, mixed. 
 
 Choppiag, jabbering. 
 
 Bnu-k, to salt. 
 
 Care, inclination. 
 
 Cicatrice, the .«car of a wound. 
 
 l;r:ntJ, ernfty, deceitful. 
 
 Careiries, the motion of a horse; to 
 
 Circummurcd, walled round. 
 
 Bniin's-llow. tears. 
 
 pass the careires, means to over- 
 
 Circumstance, conduct, detail, circum- 
 
 Brake, an instrument of torture; also 
 
 step the bounds of decorum. 
 
 locution. 
 
 • a thicket. 
 
 Carkanet, a necklace. 
 
 Cite, incite 
 
 Brandfj, a part of the andirons on 
 
 Carl, clown, boor. 
 
 Cilal. recital. 
 
 which the wood for the fire was 
 
 Ciirlut. pea.'iant. 
 
 Civil, grave, solemn. 
 
 supported. 
 
 Carnal, sanguinary. 
 
 Civil, human. 
 
 Bra.«ier, a raauufacturor of brass; also 
 
 Carowses. drinks. 
 
 Cittern, a musical instrument. 
 
 a vessel ta which charcrial i-< burnt. 
 
 Carriage, import. 
 
 Clack-dish, a beggar's dish. 
 
 Brave, to defy; also to make fiue. 
 
 Carried, conducted. 
 
 Clamour, a term in bell-ringing. 
 
 Bravely, splendidly, gallantly. 
 
 Carry, to prevail over. 
 
 Clap in. fall to. 
 
 Bravery, finery. 
 
 Cart, a chariot. 
 
 Clapped i' the clout.hit the white mark. 
 
 Brawl, a kind of dnnce. 
 
 ('ase, skin, outward garb. 
 
 Ciap, to join hands. 
 
 Braying, harsh, grating. 
 
 Case of llvc.-^, a set of lives. 
 
 Claw, to flatter. 
 

 GLOSSARY. 
 
 821 
 
 Clean, completely. 
 
 Convents, agrees, is convenient. 
 
 Curb, to bend or truckle. 
 
 Clean kaui, awry. 
 
 Convented, summoned. 
 
 Curiosity, curiousuess, finical delicacy. 
 
 Clear, pure. 
 
 Conversion, change of condilion. 
 
 Curious, scrupulous. 
 
 Clearest, purest. 
 
 Converse, associate, interchange. 
 
 Curled, ostentatiously dressed. 
 
 Clepe, to call. 
 
 Couvertiie, a convert. 
 
 Currents, occurrences. 
 
 Clerkly, loarneil, scholar-lilt p. 
 
 Convey, to steal. 
 
 Cursed, under the influence of a male- 
 
 Cling, to dry. to slirink up. 
 
 Conveyance, a slight of hand, theft. 
 
 dii'tion. 
 
 Clinquant, glittering. 
 
 Conveyers, thieves. 
 
 Curst, petulant, ill-tempered, crabbed, 
 
 Ctipt, embraceJ. 
 
 Conveyed himself, derived his title. 
 
 harsh. 
 
 Clout, the white mark at whirh arch- 
 
 Convicted, overpowered. balBed. 
 
 Curstness, ill-humor. 
 
 era shoot. 
 
 Convince, to convict, to subdue. 
 
 Curtail, a little cur. 
 
 Clouted, hobnailed. 
 
 Convive, to feast. 
 
 Curtal, a docked horse. 
 
 Coach-fellow, one who draws with a 
 
 Ctipatain hat, a hat with a conical 
 
 Curtle-axc, a cutl.'v.«s. broad-sword. 
 
 confederate. 
 
 crown. 
 
 Customer, a strumpet. 
 
 CoaFtinj. conciliatory. 
 
 Cope, encounter, covsring. 
 
 Cut. a horse. 
 
 Codling^ an unripe apple. 
 
 Copped, ri>in5 to a top or head. 
 
 Cut and longtail, poor and rich. 
 
 Cobdoaf, a crusty uneven loaf. 
 
 Copy, theme. 
 
 Cuttle, a knife used by sharpers. 
 
 Cock, cock-boat. 
 
 Coragio, courage, be of good cheer. 
 
 Cyprus, a transparent stuff. 
 
 Cock-and-pye. a vulgar oath. 
 
 Corinth, a brotbel. 
 
 
 Cockshut-timc. twili-ht. 
 
 Corinthian, a wrencher. 
 
 D. 
 
 Cockle, a corn wed. 
 
 Corky, dry, withered. 
 
 Daff or doff, to put off. 
 
 Cockle-hat, a pilgrim's hat. 
 
 Corollary, surplus. 
 
 Dally, to trifle. 
 
 Codding, amorous. 
 
 Corporal, corporeal. 
 
 Damn, to condemn. 
 
 Codpiece, a part of a dress. 
 
 Corrigible, corrected. 
 
 Danger, control. 
 
 Coflan. the cavity of a raised pie. 
 
 Costard, a head. 
 
 Dank, wet, rotten. 
 
 Cog, to cheat with dice, to He. 
 
 Coster-monger, a dealer in costers or 
 
 Danskers. natives of Denmark. 
 
 Cognii^ancc, badge or token. 
 
 apples. 
 
 Darkling, in the dark. 
 
 Cogging, lying. 
 
 Cote, to overtake. 
 
 Darraign, to arrange. 
 
 Coigne of vantage, convenient corner. 
 
 Coted, quoted, regarded. 
 
 Daub, to disguise. 
 
 Coignes, comers. 
 
 Cotsale, Cotwood in Gloucester. 
 
 Daubery, falt;ehood, counterfeit. 
 
 Coil, bluster, stir. 
 
 Couch, to lie with. 
 
 Day-bed. a couch. 
 
 Cold, naked. 
 
 Count, to reckon upon. 
 
 Dity-light, broad day. 
 
 Collection, consequence or corollary. 
 
 Countenance, favor ; false appearance. 
 
 D;iy-woman, dairymaid. 
 
 Collied, black, smutted. 
 
 hypocrisy. 
 
 Dealt, fought by proxy. 
 
 Colt, to trick. 
 
 Counter, a hunting; t'^rm. 
 
 Dear, immediate, consequential. 
 
 Co-mart, a joint bargain. 
 
 Counter-ca-ster, one who reckons with 
 
 Dearn. direful, lonely, solitary. 
 
 Come of) to pay. 
 
 counters. 
 
 Death-token.^, spots on those* iafected 
 
 Come of will, to succeed. 
 
 Counter-check, a term in chess. 
 
 with the plague. 
 
 Co-meddled, mingled. 
 
 Counterfeit, a portrait. 
 
 Death's-man. executioner. 
 
 Combinate, betrothed. 
 
 Counterpoints, counterpanes. 
 
 Debitor, debtor. 
 
 Comfort, to aid. 
 
 County, count, earl. 
 
 Deboshed, debauched. 
 
 Comforting, abetting. 
 
 Couplement. a couple. 
 
 Decay, poverty, misfortunes. 
 
 Comma, connection. 
 
 Courses, the mainsail and foresail. 
 
 Deck of cards, a pack. 
 
 Commission, authority. 
 
 Court-cupboard, sideboard. 
 
 Decked, sprinkled. 
 
 C'Omniend. commit. 
 
 Court confect, a spurious nobleman. 
 
 Decline, to run through (as in gram- 
 
 Committed, lain with. 
 
 Court holy-water, flattery. 
 
 mar ) from first to last. 
 
 Commodity, self-interest. 
 
 Covered, hollow. 
 
 Declined, the fallen. 
 
 Commonty. a comedy. 
 
 Cowed, awed. 
 
 Deem, opiuiun, surmise. 
 
 Compact, made up of. 
 
 Cower, to sink down. 
 
 Deer, animals in general. 
 
 Cf>mpanies, companions. 
 
 CowIstaCf. a staff used in carrying a 
 
 Default, ( in the ) at a need. 
 
 C-ymparo, comparison. 
 
 ba.'^kot. 
 
 Defeat, to free, todisembarra-is. 
 
 Comparative, a dealer in comparisons. 
 
 Coy, to scothe. 
 
 Defeature altiration of features. 
 
 Compassed, round. 
 
 Coyed. yeilded reluctantly. 
 
 Defence, the art of fencing. 
 
 Compassed cape, a round cape. 
 
 Coystril, a coward cock, a poltroon. 
 
 Defend, to forbid. 
 
 Compassed window, a bow-window. 
 
 Cozier, a tailor, a botcher. 
 
 Deftly, adroitly, dexterously. 
 
 Compassionate, plaxntivo. 
 
 Crack, dis.<oIution : also, a boy-child. 
 
 Defy, to reject. 
 
 Compose, to come to a composition. 
 
 Cranks, windings. 
 
 Degrees, steps. 
 
 Composture, composition. 
 
 Cranking or crankling, the rush of a 
 
 Delay, to let slip. 
 
 Composition, bargain ; also, consis- 
 
 river. 
 
 Demerits, merits. 
 
 tency. 
 
 Crants, garlands. 
 
 Demurely, solemnly. 
 
 Competitors, confederate."). 
 
 Crare. a small trading vessel. 
 
 Denay, denial. 
 
 CoDipienients. accomplishments- 
 
 Crash, to be merry over. 
 
 Denaycd, denied. 
 
 Complexion, humor. 
 
 Craven, a cowai-dly cock, mean, cow- 
 
 Denier, a coin. 
 
 Comply, to compliment. 
 
 ardly. 
 
 Denude, to strip, divest. 
 
 Comptible, submiSi^ive. 
 
 Create, compounded, made up of. 
 
 Deny, to refuse. 
 
 Conceit, imagination, wit, idea. 
 
 Credent, credible. 
 
 Depart, to p:irt. 
 
 Conceited, ingeniovis. 
 
 Credit, account, information, credu- 
 
 Departing, separation. 
 
 Concent, connected harmony. 
 
 lity. 
 
 Depend, to be in service. 
 
 Conclusion!*, experiments. 
 
 Cressets, lights set upon a beacon. 
 
 Deprive, to disinherit. 
 
 Concupy, concupiscence. 
 
 Crossive, increasing. 
 
 Deracinate, to root up. 
 
 Condolement. sorrow. 
 
 Crest, the summit. 
 
 Derogate, degraded. 
 
 Conduct, conductor. 
 
 Crestless. those who have no right to 
 
 Descant, to harangue upoa ; also a 
 
 Coney-catched. tricked. 
 
 armorial bearing. 
 
 term in music. 
 
 Coney-catcher, a cheat. 
 
 Crewel, worsted. 
 
 Deserved, deserving. 
 
 Confession, profession. 
 
 Crisp, curled, winding. 
 
 itesign. to mark out. 
 
 Contineless, Ijonndless. 
 
 Critic, cynic. 
 
 Despatched, bei-eft. 
 
 Confound, to destroy. 
 
 Critical, censorious. 
 
 Detected, suspccted- 
 
 Conject. conjecture.' 
 
 Crone, a very old woman. 
 
 Dich. do it^ 
 
 Consent, will, conspiracy. 
 
 Crosses, money stamped with a cross. 
 
 Dickon, Iticliard, 
 
 Consider, reward. 
 
 Crow-keeper, a scare-crow. 
 
 Die. gaming. 
 
 Cou5iucncd, sealed. 
 
 Crownet, last purpose. 
 
 Diet, to compel to fast 
 
 Consist, stand. 
 
 Crulontious, cruel. 
 
 Diffused wild, irregular. 
 
 Consort, company. 
 
 Crusado. a Portuguese coin. 
 
 Digress, to deviate from what is right. 
 
 Conspectuity, .sight. 
 
 Crush, to drink. 
 
 Digression, transgression. 
 
 Constancy, consistency. 
 
 Crush, a cup, to crack a bottle. 
 
 Dildos, the burden of a song. 
 
 Constantly, certainly. 
 
 Cry, a pack of hounds. 
 
 Dint, impression. 
 
 Contemptible, contemptuous. 
 
 Cry aim, to encourage. 
 
 DL-ytble. to undervalue. 
 
 Continuate, uninterrupted. 
 
 Crystals, the eyes. 
 
 Disappointed, unprepared. 
 
 Continue, to spend. 
 
 CulMlrawn. alluding to a bear whose 
 
 Discaudy, to diL^solvc. 
 
 Continent, containing. 
 
 dugs are dry. 
 
 Disclose, to hatch. 
 
 Contraction, marriage-contract. 
 
 Cue, a theatrical terra, the last word 
 
 Discontents, malcontents. 
 
 Contrarious. different. 
 
 of the preceding speech. 
 
 Discourse, reason. 
 
 Contrary, to contradict. 
 
 Cuisses, armor for the thighs. 
 
 Disease, uneasiness, discontent. 
 
 Contrive, to spend, to wear out. 
 
 Cullion. a paltry fellow. 
 
 Diseases, sayings. 
 
 Control, confut/*. 
 
 Cuaning. knowledge. 
 
 Disgrace, haidship, injury. 
 
822 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 
 Dishnbitei), dislodgeJ. 
 
 Engross, to fjitten. 
 
 Fftp, beaten, drunk. 
 
 Dislike, displease. 
 
 Dng.-iged, delivered as a hostage. 
 
 Fari-ed, stuffed. 
 
 Dislimn. to unpaint, obliterate. 
 
 Engrnssmeuts, accumulation. 
 
 Fardel or Farthel, a burden. 
 
 Disme, tenth, or tithe. 
 
 Enkindle, to stimulate. 
 
 Fashions, the farcens, a diseaie of 
 
 I)isnature(l. wantiug natural afTection. 
 
 Enme.-<h, to inclose, as in meshes. 
 
 horses. 
 
 l)i.'=park, to destroy a park or incloaure. 
 
 Enmew, (in falconry) to force to lie in 
 
 Fat, dull. 
 
 Bisper^'e, to sprinkle. 
 
 cover. 
 
 Favour, countenance. 
 
 Disponge, to discharge as a sponge. 
 
 Enridged, bordered. 
 
 Favours, features. 
 
 Dispose, disposal, comnnand. 
 
 Ensconce, to secure in a safe place, to 
 
 Fear, to intimidate, danger. 
 
 Dispose, to make terms. 
 
 fortify. 
 
 Feared, afraid. 
 
 Disposition, fi-ame. 
 
 Enseamed, greasy. 
 
 Fearful, timorous ; also, formidable. 
 
 Dissoat. displace, depose. 
 
 Enseer, to dry up. 
 
 Feat, dexterous. 
 
 Dijaemble. to gloss over, disguise. 
 
 Enshield. concealed. 
 
 Feated, made neat. 
 
 Dissembling, putting dissimilar things 
 
 Ensteeped, immersed. 
 
 Feature, beauty. 
 
 together. 
 
 Entertainment, pay; also, being re- 
 
 Federacy. confederate. 
 
 Distained. unstained. 
 
 ceived into service. 
 
 Free-grief, a peciiliar sorrow. 
 
 Distriste, to corrupt. 
 
 Entrcatments, favors; also, objects of 
 
 Feeder, a dependant. 
 
 Distemper, iutoxication. 
 
 entri-aty. 
 
 Feeding, maintenance. 
 
 Distemperature, perturbation. 
 
 Envy. av.T-ion, malice. 
 
 Feere, or pheere, a companion. 
 
 Distempered, out of humor. 
 
 Enviou';l>, angrily. 
 
 Feet, footing. 
 
 Distraught, distracted. 
 
 E|ihesi;ui. a cant t«rm. 
 
 Fell, skin. 
 
 Diatraclions, detachments, seprrati^ 
 
 Krring. errant, wandering. 
 
 Fell of hair, capilitium, any part cover- 
 
 bodies. 
 
 Ei-xai)e, jlleiritimate child. 
 
 ed with hair. 
 
 Divert, to turn aside. 
 
 Escoted, paid. 
 
 Fell-feats, savage actions. 
 
 Division, a term in music. 
 
 Esil. or Eisel. a river. 
 
 Fence, the .irt of self-<lefense. 
 
 Dolf, to put off. 
 
 Esperance. motto of the Percy fame. 
 
 Fcodary. a confederate. 
 
 Dole. alms, distribution, lot. 
 
 Kspials, spies. 
 
 Festinately, hastily. 
 
 Dolpbiu, the Dauphin. 
 
 Essential, existent, real. 
 
 Festival terms, elegant phrase. 
 
 Don, to put on, to do on. 
 
 Estimate, price. 
 
 Fet, fetched. 
 
 Done to death, killed. 
 
 I'istimatiou, conjecture. 
 
 Few, in brief. 
 
 Done, expended, consumed. 
 
 Kstridges, ostriches. 
 
 Fico. a term of contempt. 
 
 Done upon the gad, suddenly. 
 
 Eterne, eternal. 
 
 Fielded, in the field of battle. 
 
 Dotant, dotard. 
 
 Even, to make even, or evident. 
 
 Fights, clothes hung round a ship to 
 
 Double, full of duplicity. 
 
 Even christian, fellow-christian. 
 
 a>nceal the men from the enemy. 
 
 Double vouchers, a law term. 
 
 Evils. Jakes. 
 
 File, a list. 
 
 Doubt, to fear. 
 
 Examined, doubted. 
 
 Filed, defiled. 
 
 Bout, to do out, extinguish. 
 
 Excelleut differences, distinguished ex- 
 
 Filed, gone on equal pace with. 
 
 Dowie, a feather. 
 
 cellencies. 
 
 Fills, the shafts. 
 
 Down-gyved, banging down, like wlira 
 
 Excrement, the beard. 
 
 Filths, common sewers. 
 
 confines the fetters rouud the 
 
 Execute, to use, or employ. 
 
 Finch egg, a gaudy fellow. 
 
 ancles. 
 
 Executors, executioners. 
 
 Fine, the conclusion, to make shewy. 
 
 Draught, the Jakes. 
 
 Exercise, exhortation. 
 
 artful. 
 
 Draw, to withdraw. 
 
 Exliale, to breathe one's la'it. 
 
 Fine issues, great consequences. 
 
 Drawn, emboweled. 
 
 Exhaust, to draw forth. 
 
 Fineless, boundless, endless. 
 
 Drawn fux. one which is trailed over 
 
 Exbibi;ion, allowance. 
 
 Finer, final. 
 
 the ground, to deceive the hounds. 
 
 Exigent:, end, exigency. 
 
 Firago, fiir Virago. 
 
 Drachmas, a Crreek coin. 
 
 Exorcism, the ra ("st/jf? of spirits. 
 
 Fire-dr:ike, will-o'-the wisp, or a fire- 
 
 Dressings, appearances of virtue. 
 
 Expect, expectation . 
 
 work. 
 
 Drew, assembled. 
 
 Expedience, expedition. 
 
 Fire-new, quite new. 
 
 Drive, to fly with impetuosity. 
 
 Expedient, expeditious. 
 
 Firk, to chastize. 
 
 Drollery, a puppet-show. 
 
 Expediently, expeditiously. 
 
 First-house, chief branch of the family. 
 
 Drugs, drudges. 
 
 Expostulate, to di.<icuRs. 
 
 Firstlings, first produce. 
 
 Drumble, to act lazily. 
 
 Exsumicate, bubble-like. 
 
 Fit. a divisinn of a song. 
 
 Ducdame, (due ad me) bring him to 
 
 ICxtend. to seize. 
 
 FiUhew. a polecat. 
 
 ine, the burden of a song. 
 
 Extent, violence, seizure. 
 
 Fit o' th« face, a grimace. 
 
 Diid^'eon. tho handle of a dagger. 
 
 Extern, external. 
 
 Fits o' the season, disorders of the sea 
 
 Dm*, to endue, to deck. 
 
 Extremity, calamity. 
 
 son. 
 
 Duke, a leader. 
 
 Expiate, to end. 
 
 Fives, a distemper in horses. 
 
 Dull, gentle soothing. 
 
 Kxposture. expose. 
 
 Fixture, pof-ition. 
 
 Dullard, a stupid per.<:on. 
 
 Express, to revciil. 
 
 Flap-dragnn. intlammable stuif .swal 
 
 Dump, a mournful elegy. 
 
 Kxpul.'sed. expelled. 
 
 lowed by topcr.s. 
 
 Dup, to do up, to lift up. 
 
 Extracting. diHtrnctins. 
 
 Flap-jack, a pancake. 
 
 Dumb, to make silent. 
 
 Extravagant, wandering. 
 
 Flaw, a sudden gust of wind. 
 
 Durance, some lasting kiud of stuff. 
 
 Eyas musket, a young hawk. 
 
 biecked. spctted, streaked. 
 
 
 Eyases, nestlings. 
 
 Fleet, fur float. 
 
 K. 
 
 Eyliatls. eyes. 
 
 Fleslitnent. perform.iuce. 
 
 Er.ger, (from aigrc. Fr.) sour, harsh. 
 
 Eyne, eye's. 
 
 Hewed, deep-mouthed. 
 
 Kaniings, lamba. 
 
 Eyry. a nest of hawks. 
 
 Klil.hf.-ti-ilibet. a fiend. 
 
 Ear, to plow. 
 
 Eysel, vinegar. 
 
 Flickering, fluttering. 
 
 Ear-kissing, whispering. 
 
 
 Flight, a sort of shooting. 
 
 Easy, slight, incousidcrable. 
 
 F. 
 
 Flote. Wave. 
 
 Ech'e, to eke out. 
 
 Face, to carry a foolish appearance. 
 
 Flourish, to ornament; also, to sono 
 
 ICcstasy, madness. 
 
 F;ice-royal. a privileged face. 
 
 tioo. 
 
 Eftects. affectioDs ; s(lso, actions, deeds 
 
 Faiinorous", wicked. 
 
 Flnut. to wave in mockery. 
 
 effected. 
 
 Fact, suilt. 
 
 Flush, mature. 
 
 Eftcst, renJiest. 
 
 Eactious, active. 
 
 Kneman. an enemy in war. 
 
 Egypt, a gipsy. 
 
 Faculty, exercise of power. 
 
 Foin. tn thrust in feuciug. 
 
 Eld, old time . also, aged persons. 
 
 Fndire. to suit. 
 
 FniKon. plenty. 
 
 Element, initiation. 
 
 Fariitvz:=. a dance. 
 
 Folly, depravity. 
 
 Elf. done by elves, or fairie.s. 
 
 Faiih. tidelity. 
 
 Fund, foolish. 
 
 Elvi-'h-marke'l. marked liy elcef>. 
 
 Fnithfullv, fervently. 
 
 Fuols'zanies, baubles surmounted with 
 
 Emballing. distinguished by the ball. 
 
 Knin. fund. 
 
 a fools' head. 
 
 the emblem of royalty. 
 
 Fair, fcr fairness. 
 
 Foot-cloth, horse-covering. 
 
 Embare, to expose. 
 
 F;iiinrs, traitors. 
 
 For, because. 
 
 Embarquemcnts, inipodimont<i. 
 
 Falsing, falsifying. 
 
 Force, to stuff. 
 
 Kmbossed. iuelosetl, swollen, pully. 
 
 Fiilsrly. illegally, dislionestly. 
 
 Forced, false. 
 
 Kmbowelled. exhausled. 
 
 F;ioii:iar. a demon. 
 
 Forbid, accursed. 
 
 Embra«H'd. indulged in. 
 
 Fancies and good-nights, little poems 
 
 Fordid, dcstniyed. 
 
 Empericulick, empiiirnl. 
 
 so called. 
 
 Fordo, tn undo. 
 
 I'hnpery, sovereign power. 
 
 Fancy, love. 
 
 Foredone, overcome. 
 
 Emulous, enviou8, jealous. 
 
 Fancy-free, clear of love. 
 
 Forfended. forbidden. 
 
 Emulatiou. envy. 
 
 Fang, to Seize. 
 
 Forepa-st, already had. 
 
 Eueave, to hide. 
 
 Fans, ancit-nt. 
 
 Fnre-slow. to loiter. 
 
 Endart, to dart forth. 
 
 Fantastical, imaginative. 
 
 Forgetive. inventive. 
 
 Eufeoff, to invest with po.sscssion. 
 
 Fantasticocs, affected persons. 
 
 Forked, horned. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 823 
 
 Formal, in form. 
 
 Former, foremost. 
 
 Forspent, exhausted. 
 
 Forspoke. contradicted. 
 
 Forslow, delay. 
 
 Forwearied, worn out. 
 
 Fox, a sword. 
 
 Foxship, mean, cunning. 
 
 Frampold, peevish. 
 
 Frank, r sty. 
 
 Franklin, a small freeholder. 
 
 Frayed, frightened. 
 
 Free, artless. 
 
 Fret, the stop of a musical inBtrumcDt. 
 
 Friend, a lover. 
 
 Friend, for friendship, to befriend, 
 
 Frlppyry, an old clothes shop, 
 
 Frize, a Welch cloth. 
 
 From, in opposition to. 
 
 Fronted, opposed. 
 
 Frontier, forehead. 
 
 Frontlet, a forehead cloth. 
 
 Frush, to break or bruise. 
 
 Fulham, false dice. 
 
 Fulsome, obscene. 
 
 Furnishings, colors, pretenses. 
 
 Fustilariau, fusty fellow. 
 
 Fulfilling, filling to the brim. 
 
 Full, complete. 
 
 Fumiter, fumitory. 
 
 Furnished, dressed. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gabardine, a loose cloak. 
 
 Gad, a sharp-pointed instnimenfe. 
 
 Gain-giving, mL^giving. 
 
 Gamester, a wanton. 
 
 Gait, passage. 
 
 Galliard, a dance. 
 
 Galliasses. ships. 
 
 Gallimaufry, a medle. 
 
 Gallow, to scare. 
 
 Gallow-glasses, Irish foot soldiers. 
 
 Garboils, commotions. 
 
 Oapingj shouting. 
 
 Garish, gaudy. 
 
 Garnered, treasured up. 
 
 Gasted, frighted. 
 
 Gaudy, a festival. 
 
 Gaunt, meagre. 
 
 Gawd, a bauble. 
 
 Gaze, attention. 
 
 Gear, things or matters. 
 
 Geek, a fool. 
 
 General, generality. 
 
 Generc-ity, high birth. 
 
 Generous, nobly born. 
 
 Gcnnets, Spanish horses. 
 
 Gentle, noble, high-born. 
 
 Gentry, complaisance. 
 
 German, akin. 
 
 Germins, seeds begun to sprout. 
 
 Gest, a stage or journey. 
 
 Gib, a cat. 
 
 Giglot, a wanton. 
 
 Gilder, a coin, value 2s. 
 
 Gilt, gold money. 
 
 Gimmal, a ring or engine. 
 
 Ging, a gang. 
 
 Gird, a sarcasm. 
 
 Glajre, a sword. 
 
 Glcek. to joke. 
 
 Glib, to geld. 
 
 Glooming, gloomy. 
 
 Gloze, to expound. 
 
 Glut, to swallow. 
 
 Gnarled, knotty. 
 
 God 'ield you, God vield you. 
 
 Gongariiin, Hungarian. 
 
 Good-deed, indeed. 
 
 Good-den, good evening. 
 
 Good-jer. the venereal diseaso. 
 
 Gorbelliec, corpulent. 
 
 Gospel led, puritanic. 
 
 Goss, furze. 
 
 Gossamer, atoms that float in the sun 
 
 beams. 
 Gourds, dice. 
 Oouts, drops. 
 Go your gait, go away. 
 Grained, furrowed like the grains of 
 
 wood ; also, dyed in grain. 
 Gramercy, great thanks. 
 Grange, a lone farm house. 
 Gratillity. gratuity 
 
 Grats, pleases. 
 
 Gratulate, to be rejoiced in. 
 
 Grave, to entomb. 
 
 Grave-man, a man in the grave. 
 
 Graves or Greaves, leg-armor. 
 
 Greasily, grossly. 
 
 Greek, a bawd. 
 
 Greenly, unskilfully. 
 
 Green-sleeves, an old song. 
 
 Grise or Grize, a step. 
 
 Grossly, palpably. 
 
 Groundlings, those who sat or stood 
 
 on the ground in the old theaters, 
 
 the common people. 
 Guard, to fringe. 
 Guarded, ornamented. 
 Guerdon, a reward. 
 Gules, (in heraldry) red. 
 Gulf, the swallow, the throat, 
 Guiled, treacherous. 
 Guinea-hen, a prostitute. 
 Gun-stones, cannon balls. 
 Gurnet, a fish. 
 Gust, to taste. 
 Gyve, a shackle. 
 Gyves, shackles. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Hack, to become cheap. 
 
 Haggard, wild ; also, wild hawk. 
 
 Hair, complexion, or charucter. 
 
 Hall! make room. 
 
 Happily, accidentally. 
 
 Happy, accomplished. 
 
 Hardiment, bravery. 
 
 Harlocks. wild mustard. 
 
 Harlot, a male cheat. 
 
 Harness, armor. 
 
 Harrows, subdues. 
 
 Harry, to harrass. 
 
 Having, possessions. 
 
 Haviour, behavior. 
 
 Haught, haughty. 
 
 Haughty, elevated. 
 
 Halcyon, a bird. 
 
 Hallidon, doom at judgment-day. 
 
 Handsaw, hernshaw, (a hawk.) 
 
 Uangcrj?, that which suspends the 
 
 sword. 
 Harlotry, vulgar, filthy. 
 Hatch, to engrave. 
 Haunt, company. 
 Hay. a fencing term. 
 11. -at. heated. 
 Ilulnnon, henbanp. 
 Hefted, heaved, agitated. 
 Hfll, a dungeon in a prison. 
 Helmed, steered through. 
 Hence, henceforward. 
 Henchman, a page of honor, 
 llent. to seize. 
 Herb of grace, rue. 
 Hermits, beadsmen. 
 Hi'st, command. 
 Ili^iht, called. 
 Hildiog, a poltroon, 
 lliren. a harlot. 
 His, often used for its. 
 Hoar, hoary, mouldy. 
 Holvnob, as it may happen. 
 Hni.t, hoisted. 
 Hr.l.l. to esteem. 
 Hold-taking, bear-handing. 
 Holla! a term of the manege. 
 Holy, faithful. 
 Howl-man, blindman'sbuff. 
 Horologe, clock. 
 Hothouse, a bagnio. 
 Hos, a ham-string. 
 Huggermugger. secretly. 
 Hull, to float without guidance. 
 Humming, overwhelming. 
 Humorous, humid. 
 Hungry, unprolific. 
 Hunt^counter, worthless dog. 
 lluiits-up, a hunting tune. 
 lUirly, noise. 
 Hurtle, to dash against. 
 Hurtling, boisterous merriment. 
 Husbandry, thriftiness. 
 Huswife, a jilt. 
 Hyen, hya-na. 
 
 Icebrook, temper. 
 
 Idle, barren, 
 
 Ifccks, In faith. 
 
 Ignomy. ignominy. 
 
 Hl-inhabited, ilModged. 
 
 Hlustriou.fl, without luster. 
 
 Images, children, representatives. 
 
 Imbare, to expose. 
 
 Immanity, barbarity. 
 
 Immediacy, close connection. 
 
 Imp, progeny. 
 
 ■Impair, unsuitable, unequal. 
 
 Impartial, partial. 
 
 Impawned, wagered. 
 
 Imperious, Imperial, 
 
 Impetticos, to impetticoat, or impocko* 
 
 Importance, importunity. 
 
 Important, importunate. 
 
 Impose, injunction. 
 
 Impositions, commands. 
 
 Impo.^sible incredible. 
 
 Imp out, to supply the deficiency. 
 
 Impress, a device or motto. 
 
 Incapable, unintelligent. 
 
 Incarnadine, to dye red. 
 
 Incensed, incited. 
 
 Inclip, to embrace. 
 
 Include, to conclude. 
 
 Inclusive, inclosed. 
 
 Incompt, subject to account. 
 
 lucony or Kony, delicate, pretty. 
 
 Incorrect ill-regulated. 
 
 Indent, to sign an indenture. 
 
 Indt'x. .something preparatory. 
 
 Indifferent, impartial. 
 
 Indigest, shapeless. 
 
 Indite, to convict. 
 
 Induction, preface, prelude. 
 
 Indurance, delay. 
 
 Informal, deranged. 
 
 Infinite, extent or power. 
 
 Ingaged, unengaged. 
 
 Ingraft, rooted. 
 
 Inhabitable, not habitable. 
 
 Inherit, to possess. 
 
 Inhibit, to forbid, decline. 
 
 In his eye. in his presence. 
 
 Inhooped, inclo.'ied. 
 
 Ink-horn mate, a book-mat«. 
 
 Inkle, worsted tape. 
 
 Initiate, young. 
 
 Inland, civilized. 
 
 Innocent, a fool. 
 
 In place, present. 
 
 Insane, that which mokes insand 
 
 Insanie, insanity. 
 
 Insconce. to fortify. 
 
 Insculped, engraved. 
 
 In.^eparate, inseparable. 
 
 Instance.', motives. 
 
 Insuit, solicitation. 
 
 Integrity, consistency. 
 
 Intend, to pretend. 
 
 Intending, regarding. 
 
 Intendment, intention. 
 
 Intention, eager desire. 
 
 Inteutively. attentively. 
 
 Intere.^sod. interested. 
 
 Intergatories, interrogatories. 
 
 In that, becau.«e. 
 
 Intrenchant, which cannot bo cut. 
 
 Intrinse, intricate. 
 
 Inwardness, intimacy. 
 
 Iron, clad in armor. 
 
 Irregnlous. licentious. 
 
 Issues, conseqiiences. 
 
 Iteration, repetition. 
 
 Itiuation, recitation. 
 
 Jack-a-lent, a puppet thrown at In 
 
 Lent, 
 .Tack-guard ant, a jack in office. 
 .Tack sauce, a saucy fellow, 
 .laded, worthless. 
 Jar, the noise made by the pendulum 
 
 of a clock. 
 Jaunce, jaunt. 
 .Tanncing, jaunting, 
 .lay, a wanton. 
 Jesses, straps of leather fastened round 
 
 hawks' legs. 
 Jest, to play a part in a mask. 
 Jet, to strut. 
 
 Jig, a ludicrous dialogue in verse. 
 Journal, daily. 
 
824 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 
 JoTial, belonging to Jove. 
 
 Loofle, to laugh. 
 
 Miscrcate, illegitimate, spurious* 
 
 Jump, to suit, just. 
 
 Loggats, a game. 
 
 Misdoubt, to suspect. 
 
 Justicer, a judge. 
 
 Long purples, a flower. 
 
 Miser, a miserable being. 
 
 Jnt, to encrojicbi 
 
 Longing, belonging. 
 
 Misery, avarice. 
 
 Jutty, to project. 
 
 Longly, Ibogingly, 
 
 Misprised, mistaken. 
 
 Juveual, a youth. 
 
 Loofed, brought close to the wind. 
 
 Misprising, despising. 
 
 
 Loon, a base fellow. 
 
 Missives, messengers. 
 
 K. 
 
 Looped, full of apertures. 
 
 Mistempcred, augrj. 
 
 Kftin, awry. 
 
 Lop, the branches. 
 
 Mistful, ready to weep* 
 
 Keech, a lump of tallow. 
 
 Lording, a little lord. 
 
 Misthink, to think ill. 
 
 Keel, to cool. 
 
 Lot, a prize. 
 
 Mistress, the jack in bowling* 
 
 Kei^ar, Cfcsar. 
 
 Lottery, allotment 
 
 Mo, more. 
 
 Kernes, light armed soldiers. 
 
 Love in idleness, a flower. 
 
 Mobled, veiled, muffled. 
 
 Kcv-coM, colli as iron. 
 
 Lover, sometimes for mistress. 
 
 Model, mould. 
 
 Kicksy-wickay, term of endearment 
 
 Lowt, a clown. 
 
 Modern, new-fangled. 
 
 for a wife. 
 
 Lowtcd, treated with contempt. 
 
 Modesty, moderation. 
 
 Kindly, natural. 
 
 Lozel, a worthless fellow. 
 
 Module, model. 
 
 Kinged, ruled. 
 
 Lubbar, a leopard. 
 
 Moe, to make mouths. 
 
 Kirtle, a woman's garment. 
 
 Lullaby, cradle. 
 
 Moiety, a portion. 
 
 Knap, to break short. 
 
 Lunes, lunacy. 
 
 Moist star, the moon. 
 
 linave, servant. 
 
 Lurch, to win, to purloin. 
 
 Mollification, softening. 
 
 Knots, figures planted in box. 
 
 Lure, a decoy for a hawk. 
 
 Mome, a blockhead. 
 
 Known, to acknowlt-dge. 
 
 Lush, rank, luscious. 
 
 Mtimentauy, momentary. 
 
 Known of, to consider. 
 
 Lust, inclination, will. 
 
 Monster, to make monstrous. 
 
 
 Lustic, lusty, cheerful. 
 
 Month's mind, a popish anniversary. 
 
 L. 
 
 Lusty, saucy. 
 
 Slood, anger, manner. 
 
 Labras, lips. 
 
 Luxurious, lascivious. 
 
 Moody, melancholy. 
 
 Laced mutton, a prostitute. 
 
 Luxury, lust. 
 
 Moonish, variable. 
 
 Lackeying, moving like a lackey. 
 
 Lym, or Lyme, a bloodhound. 
 
 aiops and Moes, ludicrous anticks. 
 
 Lag, the rabble. 
 
 
 Moral, secret meaning. 
 
 Lakin, ladykin, or little lady. 
 
 M. 
 
 Morisco, Moorish. 
 
 Lancps, lance-men. 
 
 Mace, a sceptre. 
 
 Morris-pike, Moorish pike. 
 
 Landy, landing-places. 
 
 Mad, wild, inconstant. 
 
 Mort of the deer, a tune on the death 
 
 Land-rakera, wanderers on foot. 
 
 Magnt-pic, a magpie. 
 
 of the deer. 
 
 Large, liccntiou?'. 
 
 Magnifico. a Venetian, potentate. 
 
 Mortal, murderous, fatal. 
 
 Lass-horn, forsaken by his mistress. 
 
 Magnificent, boastful. 
 
 Mortal, abounding. 
 
 Latch, to lay hold of. 
 
 Mailed, wrapt in armor. 
 
 Mortal-staring, killed by a look. 
 
 LaU-hed or Letched, licked over. 
 
 Slake, to bar, to shut. 
 
 Mortified, ascetic. 
 
 Lated, benighted. 
 
 iMiikcless, mateless, widowed. 
 
 Most, greatest. 
 
 Latten, thin as a lath. 
 
 Male, a bag. 
 
 Mot, a motto. 
 
 Launch, lance. 
 
 Malkin, a trull. 
 
 IMother, the hysteric, passion. 
 
 Laund, lawn. 
 
 Mallecho, mischief. 
 
 Motion, divinatory agitation. 
 
 Laundering, wetting. 
 
 Maltworms, tipplers. 
 
 Motion, desires. 
 
 Lavoltas, a kind of dances. 
 
 Mammering, stammering. 
 
 Motion, a puppet. 
 
 Lay, a wager. 
 
 Mammets, puppets. 
 
 IMotions, indignation. 
 
 Leaguer, a camp. 
 
 Mammock, to tear. 
 
 Motive, a mover. 
 
 Leading falsehood. 
 
 Man. to tame a hawk ; the devil. 
 
 Mouldwarp, the mole. 
 
 Leather-coats, apples. 
 
 Mandragora, a soporific plant. 
 
 Mouse, to tear to pieces. 
 
 Leavened, matured. 
 
 Mandrake, a root. 
 
 Mouse, a term of endearment. 
 
 Leech, a physician. 
 
 Mankind, a wizard. 
 
 Mouse-hunt, a weasel. 
 
 Leer, feature, complexion. 
 
 Manacle, a handcuff. 
 
 Moy, a piece of money; also, a measure 
 
 Leet, petty court of justico. 
 
 Manner, in the fact. 
 
 of corn. 
 
 Leg, obeisance. 
 
 Man-fiueller, a man-killer. 
 
 Much, strange, wonderful. 
 
 Legerity, nimbleness. 
 
 Marches, confines. 
 
 Muck-water, drain of a dunghill. 
 
 Leges, alteges. 
 
 JIarchpaue, a sweetmeat. 
 
 Muffler, a wrapper for the lojrer part 
 
 Leiger, resident. 
 
 Margcnt, margin. 
 
 of the face. 
 
 Leman, lover or mistress. 
 
 ilartial hand, a careless scrawl. 
 
 Muletcrs, muleteers. 
 
 Leno. a pander. 
 
 Martlemas, tbe latter spring. 
 
 Mulled, softened. 
 
 Lenten, spare. 
 
 Mated, confounded. 
 
 Multiplied, multitudinous. 
 
 Let, to hinder. 
 
 Material, full of matter. 
 
 Multiplying, nuiltipliiHl. 
 
 Lethe, death. 
 
 Maugre, in spite of notwithstanding. 
 
 Multitudinous, full of multitudes. 
 
 L'Envoy, end of a poem. 
 
 Mauud, a basket. 
 
 Mure, a wall. 
 
 Lewd, idle. 
 
 Meacock, a dastard. 
 
 Murky, dark. 
 
 Libbard, or Lubbar, a leopard. 
 
 Mealed, mingled. 
 
 Must, a scramble. 
 
 Liberal, licentious in speech. 
 
 Mean, the middle; the tenor in music. 
 
 
 Liberty, libertinism. 
 
 Means, interest. 
 
 N. 
 
 License, licentiousness. 
 
 Measure, the reach j a solemn dance; 
 
 Napkin, handkerchief. 
 
 Liefest, dearest. 
 
 means. 
 
 Napless, threadbare. 
 
 Lieger, an embassador. 
 
 Sleazels, lepers. 
 
 Native, naturally. 
 
 Lifter, a thief. 
 
 Medal, portrait. 
 
 Nature, natural parent. 
 
 Light o'love, a dance tune. 
 
 MlsMIc. to mingle. 
 
 Naughty, unfit. 
 
 Lightly, commonly. 
 
 Medicine, a she-physician. 
 
 Nay-word, a by-word. 
 
 Like, to compare. 
 
 iMt'ct, a match. 
 
 Neb. the mouth. 
 
 Liking, condition of body. 
 
 M'-iiiey, domestics. 
 
 Xeelds. needlcs. 
 
 Likelihood, similitude. 
 
 Memories, memorials. 
 
 Ne'Jileetion, neglect. 
 
 Likeness, speciousness. 
 
 Memory, memorial. 
 
 Xeif. the fist. 
 
 Limbeck, a vessel used in distilling. 
 
 Mi-nds, the mean.«. 
 
 Nephew, any lineal descendant. 
 
 Limbo, a place supposed near hell. 
 
 :\Icpliistophilus, a familiar spirit. 
 
 Nether-stocks, stockings. 
 
 Lime, bird-lime ; to cement. 
 
 Mercatante, a merchant. 
 
 Newness, innovation. 
 
 Limiled, appointed. 
 
 Merchant, a low fellow. 
 
 Newt, the eft. 
 
 Limits, estimates. 
 
 Mt-ro, entire, absolute. 
 
 Next, nearest. 
 
 Lined, dilineated. 
 
 Men-d question, solo question. 
 
 Nice, trifling. 
 
 Linstock, the staff to which the match 
 
 Merely, entirely. 
 
 Nick, to set tha mark of folly on ; reo 
 
 jfl fixed when ordnance is fired. 
 
 iMoril. a reward. 
 
 koning. 
 
 List, limit. 
 
 Merhiaid, a syren. 
 
 Night-rule, frolic of the night. 
 
 Litlicr, llexible. 
 
 Metaphysical, supernatural. 
 
 Nighted, made dark as night. 
 
 Little, miniature. 
 
 Mete yard, measuring yard. 
 
 Nill, shall not. 
 
 Livelihood, appearance of life 
 
 Mewed, confined. 
 
 Nine men's morris, a game. 
 
 Livery, a law-phrase. 
 
 Mielier, a truant. 
 
 Noble, a coin. 
 
 Living, estate, property. 
 
 Miehing Mallecho, a secret mischief. 
 
 Nobless, nobleness. 
 
 Living, speaking, munifi-st. 
 
 Mince, to walk atTectedLy. 
 
 Noble-touch, unalloyed metal. 
 
 Loach, a Bmall prolifie fish 
 
 MiiKling. reminding. 
 
 Noddy, fool, a game at cards- 
 
 Lob, a dullard, a looby. 
 
 Minnow, a very small fish. 
 
 Noise, music. 
 
 Loekram, a kind of linen. 
 
 Minstrelsy, office of minstrel. 
 
 Nonce, on purpose. 
 
 Lodo-star, the polar star. 
 
 Miuute-juckj Jack-o'-lantern. 
 
 In'ou com; nonplus. 
 

 GLOSSARY. • 
 
 825 
 
 Nook-sbotter» that which shoots into 
 
 Pashed, crushed. 
 
 Portance, behavior. 
 
 capes. 
 
 Pass, to decide, assure, convey. 
 
 Possess, to inform. 
 
 Nol-thein mau, a clown. 
 
 Pass on, to dCL-ide. 
 
 Pntch, to push. 
 
 Note, DOtice. 
 
 Passed, eminent. 
 
 Potents, potentates. 
 
 Nott-pated, round-headed. 
 
 Passing, surpassing. 
 
 Foulter, poulterer. 
 
 Nouri.sh, to nurse. 
 
 Passion, sutlering. 
 
 Pouncet-bos, a perfume-bos. 
 
 Nousle, to fondle as n nurse. 
 
 Passionate, grieving. 
 
 Power, an army. 
 
 Novum, a game at dice. 
 
 Passioning, being in a passion. 
 
 Practise, stratagems. 
 
 Now!, a head. 
 
 Passy Measure, a dance. 
 
 Prauk. to adorn. 
 
 Nut-nook, a thief. 
 
 Paritor. an apparitor, or oScer of the 
 
 Precept a justice's warrant. 
 
 
 bishop's court. 
 
 Precisian, a puritan. 
 
 0. 
 
 Pastry, the pastry room. 
 
 Preeches, flogged. 
 
 OdJ-GTen, the interval between twelve 
 
 Patch, a fool. 
 
 Prefer, to offer. 
 
 and one in the morning. 
 
 Patched, in a fooPa coat. 
 
 Pregnant, ready. 
 
 Od's-pitikins. God me pity. 
 
 Path, to walk. 
 
 Prenomioatc, fore-named. 
 
 Oeliads, glances of the eye. 
 
 Pathetical. promise-breaker. 
 
 Prcst ready. 
 
 O's, circles, pockmarks. 
 
 Patient, to .soothe. 
 
 Pretend, to intend. 
 
 Obligations, bonds. 
 
 Patine, a dish used with the chalice in 
 
 Prevent, to anticipate. 
 
 Obsequious, funeral. 
 
 administering the Eucharist 
 
 Pritket, a buck of the second year. 
 
 Observation, celebration. 
 
 Paucas, few. 
 
 Pri^. a pilfer. 
 
 Obstacle, obstinate. 
 
 Pavin, a dance. 
 
 Prime, sprightliness of youth. 
 
 Occurrent*, iuL-idents. 
 
 Pay, to beat. 
 
 Primer, of more consequence. 
 
 Occupation, mechanics. 
 
 Peat, pet, darlinjj. 
 
 Primero, a game at cards. 
 
 O'er-raught, over-reached. 
 
 Pedascule, a pedant. 
 
 Princox, a coxcomb. 
 
 O'ercrow, overcome. 
 
 Peer-out, to peep out. 
 
 Prob.'U. probable. 
 
 O'erlooked, fascinated. 
 
 Peevish, foolish. 
 
 Prodigious, pretentious. 
 
 Of through. 
 
 Peize, to Weigh, keep in suspense. 
 
 Pror;ii-e, much good may it do you. 
 
 Offering, the assailant 
 
 Pcnthesilia. Amazon. 
 
 Piofanc. grossly talkative. 
 
 Offici', service. 
 
 Pelting, paltry. 
 
 Progress, a royal journey of state. 
 
 Offices, culinary apartments. 
 
 Pennons, small flags. 
 
 Prognostication, almanac. 
 
 Of all loves, by all means. 
 
 Perdu, one of the forlorn hope. 
 
 Project, to shape. 
 
 Old, frequent. 
 
 Perdurable, lasting. 
 
 Prolixious, coy, delaying. 
 
 Old age, ages past. 
 
 Perdy, (Par Dieu) a French oath. 
 
 Proof, puberty. 
 
 Once, -'sometime. 
 
 Perfect, certain ; well-informed. 
 
 Prompture, suggestion. 
 
 Oneyers, bankers. 
 
 Perfections, liver, brain, and heart. 
 
 Prone, humble, also prompt. 
 
 Opal, a precious stone. 
 
 Perfapts, charms worn about the neck. 
 
 Propagate, to atlvauce, to improve. 
 
 Operant, active. 
 
 Perjure, a perjurer. 
 
 Proper, handsome. 
 
 Opinion, obstinacy, conceit. 
 
 Person, parson. 
 
 Proper-false, deceitful. 
 
 Opposite, adverse. 
 
 Perspectives, spy-glasseft. 
 
 Propertied, possessed. 
 
 Opposition, combat. 
 
 Pervert, to avert. 
 
 Properties, incidental necessaries to a 
 
 Or e'er, before. 
 
 Pestilence, poison. 
 
 theater. 
 
 Orbs, fairy circles. 
 
 Pew-fellow, a companion. 
 
 Property, due performance. 
 
 Orchard, a gardeu. 
 
 Pheere, companion. 
 
 Propose, to imagitie, to converse. 
 
 Ord'nance, rank. 
 
 Pheeze. to teaze, to currycomb. 
 
 Proposing, conversing. 
 
 Order, measures. 
 
 Phisonomy, physi<jgnomy. 
 
 Provand, provender. 
 
 Orgulous, haughty. 
 
 Phill-horse, shaft-horse. 
 
 Provost, sheriff or goaler. 
 
 Osprey, an eagle. 
 
 IVk, to pitch. 
 
 Prune, to plume. 
 
 Ostent, ostentation, appearance. 
 
 Pick-axes, fingers. 
 
 Pugging, thievish. 
 
 Ostentation, appearance. 
 
 Picked, foppish. 
 
 Puke, a sort of russet ^.-olor. 
 
 Overblow to drive away. 
 
 Pickers, the hands. 
 
 Purchase, stoleu goods. 
 
 Overscntcbed, whippeifat a cart'e tail. 
 
 Picking, insignificant. 
 
 Puri;hase«l, unjustly acquired. 
 
 Overture, opening, discovery. 
 
 Pickt-hatch, a place noted for brothels. 
 
 Purl, to curl. 
 
 Ounce, a tiger-cat. 
 
 Pick-thank, a parasit<». 
 
 Purlieu, border. 
 
 Ouph, fairy. 
 
 Piece, a contemptuous term for a 
 
 Pursuivants, heralds. 
 
 Ousel-cock, the cock blackbird. 
 
 woman. 
 
 Pussel, alow wench. 
 
 Out, full, complete. 
 
 Pied ninnfi', a fool. 
 
 Put to know, forced to acknowledge. 
 
 Outvied, defeated, a term at the game 
 
 Pieied, shaven. 
 
 Putter-out one who lends money on 
 
 of gleek. 
 
 Pight, pitched, fixed. 
 
 interest. 
 
 Outward, not in the secret. 
 
 Pilcher, the scabbard. 
 
 Putling-on. incitement. 
 
 Owe, to possess, to own. 
 
 Piled, deprived of hair. 
 
 PuttocU, a hawk. 
 
 OsJip, the great cowslip. 
 
 Pilled, pillaged. 
 
 
 
 Pin. a term in archery. 
 
 Q. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pin and web, disorder of the eye. 
 
 Quail, to sink, to faint, to be van- 
 
 Pack, to bargain with. 
 
 Pinfold, a pound. 
 
 quished. 
 
 Pack, an accomplice. 
 
 Pix, the box that contains the host. 
 
 Quaint, fantastical, also graceful. 
 
 Packing, plotting, fraud. 
 
 Place, a mansion. 
 
 Quaintly, skilfully. 
 
 Paddock, a toad. 
 
 Placket, a petticoat. 
 
 Quaint-mazes, a game. 
 
 Pagan, a dissolute person. 
 
 Plague, puni:h. 
 
 Quaked, terrified. 
 
 Pageant, a dumb show. 
 
 Plainly, openly. 
 
 Quality, confederates, condition. 
 
 Paid, punij-hed. 
 
 Plaited, complicated. 
 
 Quarrel, a quarreler. 
 
 Palabras, words. 
 
 Plantage. plantain. 
 
 QiKirry, the game after it is killed. 
 
 Pale, dominions. 
 
 Planched, ui:ule of planks. 
 
 Quartd'ecu. the fourth of a French 
 
 Pale, to encircle with a crown. 
 
 Plant, the foot. 
 
 crown. 
 
 Pall, to wrap, to invest. 
 
 Plates, silver money. 
 
 Quat, a scab. 
 
 Palled, vapid. 
 
 Platforms, schemes. 
 
 Qiifjisy, squeamish. 
 
 Palmers, pilgrims. 
 
 Plausive, gracious, applauded. 
 
 Quell." to murder. 
 
 Palmy, victorious. 
 
 Plurisv. pTethory. 
 
 Quench, to grow cool. 
 
 Paly, pale. 
 
 Pleached, folded. 
 
 Quern, a hand-mill. 
 
 Palter, to juggle, to cheat. 
 
 Plot, portion. 
 
 Quest pursuit. 
 
 Pang, to afflict. 
 
 Point, negative. 
 
 Question, conversation. 
 
 Paper, to commit to writing. 
 
 Pojnthooks used tofasten up breeches. 
 
 Questrist, one who seeks auotner. 
 
 Parcel, part, to reckon up. 
 
 Point-de-vice. exactly. 
 
 Quests, reports. 
 
 Parcel-bawd, half-bawd. 
 
 Points, tags to laces. 
 
 Quiddits, subtleties. 
 
 Parcel-gilt, partially giit. 
 
 Poize. wei_'ht. 
 
 Qui(?tus. discharge. 
 
 Parish-top, a large 'top, formerly kept 
 
 Polnck, a Polander. 
 
 Quillet*", law chicane. 
 
 in every village, to be whipped for 
 
 Polled, bared. 
 
 Quintain, a post set up for varioufl 
 
 exercise. 
 
 Pomander, a perfume ball. 
 
 exercises. 
 
 Parle, parley. 
 
 Pomewater, an apple. 
 
 Quips, scoffs. 
 
 Parlous, perilous, shrewd. 
 
 Poor-jnhn, salted tish. 
 
 Quire, to play in concert. 
 
 Part, to depart. 
 
 Popinjay, a parrot. 
 
 Quiver, nimble, active. 
 
 Parted, endowed, shared. 
 
 Popularity .intercoursewith the vulgar. 
 
 Quote, to observe. 
 
 Particular, private. 
 
 Propentine. porcupine. 
 
 
 Partizan. a pike. 
 
 Port, dept)rtment. 
 
 K. 
 
 Parts, party. 
 
 Port, a gate. 
 
 R. dog's letter. 
 
 Pash, to strike ; a head. 
 
 Portable, bearable. 
 
 Habato, a neck ornament. 
 
82G 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Race, original disposition, also flavor. 
 
 Rack, wreck. 
 
 Rack, to exaggerate. 
 
 Rack, to harass by exaction.*!. 
 
 Rack, the fleeting away of the clouds, 
 
 Racking, in rapid motkin. 
 
 Rag, an opprobrious epithet. 
 
 Raggud, rugged. 
 
 Rake, to cover. 
 
 Ram. rain. 
 
 Ranipallion, a strumpet. 
 
 Rank, rate or pace. 
 
 Rank, rapidly grown. 
 
 Rapt, enraptured. 
 
 Rapture, a tit. 
 
 Rarely, curioasly, 
 
 Kapcal, lean deer. 
 
 Rash remonstrance, permaturo dis- 
 covery. 
 
 Raught, reached. 
 . Ravin, to devour eagerly, 
 
 Ravinod, glutted with prey. 
 
 Rawly, suddenly. 
 
 Rayed, betrayed. 
 
 Razed, slabbed. 
 
 Raze, a bale. 
 
 Rear-mouse, a bat, 
 
 ReaRin, discourse. 
 
 Rebeck, a musical instrument. 
 
 Kecheat, a horn, a tune to call the do? 
 back. 
 
 Recei['t. receptacle. 
 
 Receiving, ready apprehension. 
 
 Reccat, a hunting term. 
 
 Reck, to care for. 
 
 Reckless, careless. 
 
 Record, to ring. 
 
 Recorders, a kind of flute, 
 
 Recure. to receiver. 
 
 Red-hittice phrases, alehouse talk. 
 
 Red-pUiguc, the St. Antony's fire. 
 
 Reechy, discolored ivith smoke. 
 
 Reel^, wheels. 
 
 Refi.*l. to confute. 
 
 Refer, to reserve to. 
 
 Regard, look. 
 
 Regiment, government. 
 
 Regreet, exchange of salutation. 
 
 Regimrdon, recompense. 
 
 Rheiuiiatic, capricious. 
 
 Reluni';, to relight. 
 
 Remorse, pity. 
 
 Remotion, removal. 
 
 Removes, journeys. 
 
 Reu'ler, to describe. 
 
 r.<.-in_'L'. to renounce. 
 
 Ri'l'i'iis, reporters. 
 
 Ib-prnf, confutation. 
 
 Repugn, to resist. 
 
 Reputing, boasting. 
 
 Reserve, to preserve. 
 
 Resolve, to be assured. 
 
 Resolve, to dissolve. 
 
 Heppcctive. respectful. 
 
 Respectively, respectfully. 
 
 Resty. mouldy. 
 
 Retailt^d, handed down. 
 
 Retort, to refer back. 
 
 Reverb, to reverberate. 
 
 Revttlt of raein, change of complexion. 
 
 Revolt-', rebel-s. 
 
 Rib. t'l enclose. 
 
 Ribald, a lewd fellow. 
 
 Rid, to destroy. 
 
 Rift, split. 
 
 Riggi-h, wanton. 
 
 Itigol, a circle. 
 
 Kim. money. 
 
 Ringed, encircled. 
 
 Riva:_'e. the bank or shore. 
 
 Itivalily, equal rank, 
 
 RivaN, partuers. 
 
 liive. to burst, to fire. 
 
 Rouiage, rummage, buetlo. 
 
 ISonyou, a drab. 
 
 Rood, t lie- cross. 
 
 Rook, to i-qunt. 
 
 Ropery, roguery. 
 
 Roi)e-iricks. ahusivenesB. 
 
 Rcuiiil, a diadem. 
 
 Round, rouch. 
 
 Rouuiied, wliisppred. 
 
 Roun'ii'l, a country dance. 
 
 Konn^iiii'/, wlii-ipciia:;. 
 
 KouTiuure, a circle. 
 
 Rouse, carousal. 
 
 Roynish, mangy. 
 
 Royal, a coin. 
 
 Ruddock, red-brea-st. 
 
 Rufl", the folding of the tops of boots. 
 
 Ruffle, to be noisy. 
 
 Ruffling, rustling. 
 
 Rump-fwl, fed with offals. 
 
 Ruth, pity. 
 
 Sacarson, the name of a bear. 
 
 Sacred, accursed. 
 
 Sacrificial, wor.shiping. 
 
 Sacring-bell, the bell announcing the 
 approach of the host. 
 
 Sad ostent, grave appearance. 
 
 Sagg, or Swagg, to siuk down. 
 
 Sallet, a helmet. 
 
 Salt, tears, 
 
 Saltiera, satyrs. 
 
 Samingo, St. Domingo, 
 
 Sandied, sandy color. 
 
 Sans, without. 
 
 Saucy, lascivious. 
 
 Savage, sylvan. 
 
 Savageness. wildne.cg. 
 
 Saw, tenor of a discourse. 
 
 Say, siik. 
 
 Say. a sample. 
 
 Scaffoldagc, the gallery of a theater. 
 
 Scald, beggerly. 
 
 Scale, to disperse. 
 
 Scaled, overreached. 
 Scaling, weighing. 
 
 Scall, scab. 
 
 Scamble. to scramble. 
 
 Scan, to examine nicely. 
 
 Scantling, proportion. 
 
 Scarfed, decorated with flags. 
 
 Scath, destruction. 
 
 Scathful, mischievous. 
 
 Sconce, til* head. 
 
 Sconce a fortification, 
 
 Scotch, to bruise. 
 
 Scrimers, fencers. 
 
 Scrip, a writing, a list. 
 
 Scroyles, scurvy fellows. 
 
 Scrubbed, stunted. 
 
 Sculls, shoals offish. 
 
 Scutched, whipped. 
 
 Seal, to etrengtheu, or complete. 
 
 Seam, lard. 
 
 Seamels, a bird. 
 
 Sear, to stigmatize, to close. 
 
 Season, to temper, to infix, to impress. 
 
 Seat, throne. 
 
 Sect, acutting in gardening. 
 
 Seel, to close up. 
 
 Seeling, binding. 
 
 Seeming, seemly. 
 
 Seen, versed, practiced. 
 
 Seld, seldom. 
 
 Semblably, resembliugly. 
 
 Seniory, seniority. 
 
 Sennet, a flourish on cornets. 
 
 Sense, sensual desirea. 
 
 Septeutrion, the north. 
 
 Sciinrstratiou, separation. 
 
 Sure, or sear, dry. 
 
 Serpigo, a tetter. 
 
 Serve, to fulfill. 
 
 Setebos, a demon. 
 
 Set of wit, a term at tennis. 
 
 Sessa, be quiet. 
 
 Several, separated. 
 
 Several, or severell, a field sot apart 
 
 for corn and grass. 
 Sewer, the placer of tho dishes. 
 Shame, modesty. 
 
 Sliard-borne, borne on scaly wings. 
 Shards, beetle's wings. 
 ShanU, broken pots or tiles. 
 Shark up. to pick up. 
 Shaven ifercules, Samson. 
 
 been, shining, gay. 
 Slieer, transparent. 
 Shcnt, to scold, rebuke. 
 Sherris, sherry. 
 Shive, ft slice. 
 Shog. to go ofl". 
 Shoten. projected. 
 Shotteudicrring, a herring that has 
 
 spawned. 
 Shoulder-clapper, a bailiff. 
 
 Shoughs, shocks, a species of dog. 
 
 Shove-groat, a game. 
 
 Sbovel-boards, shillings used at the 
 g^me of shovel board. 
 
 Shrewd, shrewish. 
 
 Shrift, auricular confession. 
 
 Side, purpose. 
 
 Side-sleeves, long sleeves. 
 
 Siege, a stool. 
 
 Sieve, a common voider. 
 
 Sightless, unsightly. 
 
 Sights, theperfurated parts of a helmet 
 
 Silly, simple truth. 
 
 Sinew, strength. 
 
 Single, weak. 
 
 Sink-a-pace, cinque pace, a dance. 
 
 Sir, the title of a parson. 
 
 Sister, to imitate or re-echo. 
 
 Sith, since. 
 
 Sithence, thence. 
 
 Sizes, allowance of victuals. 
 
 Skain's-matea, kin's-mates. 
 
 Skill, reason. 
 
 Skills not, is of no importance. 
 
 Skinker, a tapster. 
 
 Skirr, to scour. 
 
 Slave, to treat with indignity. 
 
 Sleave, the knotty part of silk. 
 
 Sledded, carried on a sledge. 
 
 Sleidod, untwisted. 
 
 Slights, tricks. 
 
 Slip, counterfeit coin. 
 
 Slips, a contrivance in leather, to start 
 
 two dogs at the same lime. 
 Sliver, to slice. 
 Slops, loose breeches. 
 Slough, the skin which the serpent an- 
 nually throws off. 
 Slower, more serious. 
 Slubber, to do carelessly, to obscure, 
 Sluggabed, sluggard. 
 Smirched, soiled. 
 Sneap, rebuke. 
 Sneaping, nipping. 
 Sneck-up, go hang yourself. 
 Snipe, a paltroon. 
 Snuff, anger. 
 Snuffs, dislikes. 
 Soil, spot, turpitude, reproach. 
 Solicit, courtship. 
 Solicit, to excite. 
 Soliciting, information. 
 Solidares. a coin. 
 Sometimes, formerly. 
 Sooth, truth. 
 Sooth, sweetness, 
 
 Sorel, a deer during his third year. 
 Sorry, sorrowful. 
 Sort, to happen, to agree. 
 Sort, the lot. 
 
 Sort and suit, fi;,'ure and rank. 
 Sot. a fool. 
 Soud, sweet. 
 
 Soul-fearing, soul-appalling. 
 Sound, to publl-sh. 
 Soused gurnet, a gudgeon. 
 Sowl, to pull by the ears. 
 Sowie, to drag down, 
 Sowter, the name of a hound. 
 Spanieled, dogged. 
 Specialty, particular rights. 
 Speculation, sight. 
 Speculative, seeing. 
 Spe<.l, the fate decided. 
 Speed, event. 
 
 Sperr, to shut up, defend by bars. 
 Spill, to destroy. 
 Spotted, wii-ked. 
 Sprag, apt to learn, alert. 
 Sprighted, haunted. 
 Sprights. spirits. 
 Spriughalt, a disease of hor.«efi. 
 Sprightly, ghostly. 
 Spurs, the greater roots of trees. 
 Square, to quari'ol, 
 S<iuarer, a quarreler. 
 Squash, an immature peascod. 
 Squiney, to look asquint. 
 Squire, a rule or square. 
 Stage, to place conspicuously. 
 Stiile, a decoy for birds. 
 Stannyel, a hawk or stallion. 
 Star. scar. 
 Stark, stiff. 
 Starred, destined. 
 

 GLOSSARY. 
 
 827 
 
 statists, statesmen. 
 
 Tested, attested, brought to the test. 
 
 Unbated, not lilunted. 
 
 Statua, statue. 
 
 Tcsterned, gratified with a tester, or 
 
 Unbitted, unbridled. 
 
 Statue, a portrait. 
 
 sixpence. 
 
 Unbolt, to explain. 
 
 Stay, a bin'Icrer. a supporter. 
 Stoniaiie. tbe binder part. 
 
 Tetchy, touchy, peevl.sh. 
 
 Unbolted, coarse. 
 
 Tether, a string by which any animal 
 
 Unbonnetted. without dignities. 
 
 frlickiiit^-placc, the stop iu a macbine. 
 
 is fastened. 
 
 Unbookish, unlearned. 
 
 Sticklers, the arbitrators, judges, par- 
 
 Tbarborough, a constable. 
 
 Uobreathcd, unpracticed. 
 
 tisjins, umpires. 
 
 Theorick, theory. 
 
 UncHpc. to dig out, a term in for- 
 
 Stiijmatical, stigmatised. 
 
 Thowes, muscular strength. 
 
 hunting. 
 
 Stigmatic, marked with deformity, 
 
 Thick, pleaf^bed. thickly interwoven. 
 
 Uncharged, unattacked. 
 
 brau'led. 
 
 Thill, the shafts of a cart. 
 
 Unclew, to unwind. 
 
 Stilly, gladly, lowly. 
 Stinted, stopped. 
 
 Thin Helm, tbin covering of hair. 
 
 Uncoined, unrcGned, unodorned. 
 
 Thought, melancholy. 
 
 Unconfirmed, unpracticed in wordly 
 
 Stint, to stop. 
 
 Thrasonical, boasting. 
 
 craft. 
 
 Stitb, an aniril. 
 
 Thread, to pass. 
 
 Ihicurrent. irregular. 
 
 Stithicd, forced at the furnace. 
 
 Three-man-beetle, an implement for 
 
 Undercraft. to wear beneath the crest. 
 
 Stithy, a smith*s shop. 
 
 driving piles. 
 
 Under-skinker, a tapster. 
 
 Stoccata, a stab. 
 
 Three-pile, rich velvet 
 
 Understand, stand under. 
 
 Stock, a stocking. 
 
 Thrift, prosperity, economy. 
 
 Undertaker, the defender of another, a 
 
 Stomach, pride. 
 Stone-bow. a cross bow. 
 
 Thrum, extremity of a weaver's warp. 
 
 quarrel. 
 
 Thrummed, mado of course woolen. 
 
 Underwrite, to subscribe, to obey. 
 
 Stoup, a fljicgon. 
 Stover, a thatch. 
 
 Tib. a strumpet. 
 
 Uneath, scarcely. 
 
 Tickle, ticklish. 
 
 Unexpressive, inexpressible. 
 
 Strain, descent, lineage. 
 
 Tickle-brain, a .strong tlriuk. 
 
 Unfair, to deprive of beauty. 
 
 Strain, difficulty, doubt. 
 
 Tillv-vally, pooh I 
 
 Ungenitured, without genitals. 
 
 Strait, narrow, avaricioua. 
 
 Tilth, tillage. 
 
 Uiibaired. youthful. 
 
 Stranijo. shy. 
 
 Timeless, untimely. 
 
 Unliappy, unlucky, mischievous. 
 
 Strutaiiero, great, or dreadful event. 
 
 Tinct, tincture. 
 
 Unhoused, free from domestic cares. 
 
 StrawY, straying. 
 
 Tire, head-dress. 
 
 Unhouselled, without having the sacra- 
 
 Striker, a borrower. 
 
 Tire, to fasten. 
 
 ment. 
 
 Stuck, or Stock a term in fencing. 
 
 Tire, to be idly employed on. 
 
 Union, a species of pearl. 
 
 Stuff, baggiiiie. substance or essence. 
 
 Tired, adorned. 
 
 Unkind, unnatural. 
 
 StulTed. sufficiency, ample abilities. 
 
 Tire-valiaut. a head-dress. 
 
 Unlived, lifeless. 
 
 Subscription, obedience. 
 
 Tirra-lirra, the song of the lark. 
 
 Unlustrous, without lustre. 
 
 Success, succession. 
 
 Toged, habitcil. 
 
 Unmanned, a t«rm iu falconry. 
 
 Sudden, Tiolent. 
 
 Tokened, spotted. 
 
 Unm:istcred, licentious. 
 
 Sufliiiency, abilities. 
 
 Tolling, taking toll. 
 
 Unowed, unowned. 
 
 Suuj,i->t, to tempt. 
 
 Topless, supreme. 
 
 Unpregnant, not quickened. 
 
 Su^^^i'^liuu. temptation. 
 
 Topple, to tumble. 
 
 Unproper, common. 
 
 Suitei], dressed. 
 
 Touches, features. 
 
 Unqualified, unmanned. 
 
 Sumptt^r, a horse that carries necessa- 
 
 Toward, in readiness. 
 
 Unquestionable, averse to conver8j> 
 
 ries on a journey. 
 
 Toys, whims, rumors. 
 
 tion. 
 
 Superfluous, over-clothed. 
 Supposed, counterfeit. 
 
 Toze. to unravel. 
 
 Unready, undrest. 
 
 Trade, establi.-hed custom. 
 
 Unrespwctive. inconsiderate. 
 
 Sur-reined, over ridden. 
 
 Tradition, traditional usages. 
 
 Unrest, disquiet. 
 
 Suspire, to breathe. 
 Surcease, an end. 
 
 Trail, scent left by game. 
 
 Unrough, beardless. 
 
 Traitress, a term of endearment. 
 
 Unsistiiig, unrL'sistln'jr, unfeeling. 
 
 Suspect, suspicion. 
 
 Trammel, to catch. 
 
 Unsmirchcd, umlcfilrd. 
 
 Swart, darkbrowi; 
 
 Tranect, a ferry or sluice. 
 
 Unfquared, iinadapt<-il. 
 
 Swashing, bullying. 
 
 Translate, to transform. 
 
 Unstanchi'd, incontinent. 
 
 Swarth, grass cut at one stroke. 
 
 Trash, to check. 
 
 Uuteuipering, not softening. 
 
 Sway, weight. 
 
 Traversp. to march. 
 
 T'ntented, not probed, virulent. 
 
 Sweeting, an apple. 
 
 Traversed, across. 
 
 Untraded, not iu common use. 
 
 Sweltered, weltered. 
 
 Tray-trip, a game at draughts. 
 
 Untrimmed, uudrest. 
 
 Swift, ready. 
 
 Treachers, traitors. 
 
 Unvalued, invaluable. 
 
 Swinge-bueklcrs, riotous fellows. 
 
 Trenched, carved. 
 
 Upspriug, a dance. 
 
 Swoundeil, swooned. 
 
 Trick, peculiarity of feature. 
 
 
 Swoop, the decent of a bird of prey. 
 
 Trick, to dress out. 
 
 V. 
 
 Tricking, dress. 
 
 Vail, to how, to sink, to condescend in 
 
 T. 
 
 Tricksy, adroit. 
 
 look. 
 
 Table, the palm of the hand. 
 
 Trigoo. Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius, in 
 
 Vailing, lowering. 
 
 Table, a picture. 
 
 the Zodiac. 
 
 Vain, vanity. 
 
 Tables, tablets, memorandum books. 
 
 Trip, to defeat. 
 
 Vain, lying. 
 
 Tauiboriue, a small drum. 
 
 Triple, one of three. 
 
 Valance, fringed with a board. 
 
 Tag, Ihs rabble. 
 
 Triumphs, revels. 
 
 Vanity, illusion. 
 
 Take, to strike with disease, to blast. 
 
 Trnjan, cant term for thief. 
 
 Vanta'ge. opportunity, advantage. 
 
 Take-in, to conquer. 
 
 Trol-my-dames, the game of nine 
 
 Vautbrace, armour for the arm. 
 
 Take-vip, to contraiJict, 
 
 holes. 
 
 Varlct, a servant. 
 
 Talent, talon. 
 
 Troll, to sing trippingly. 
 
 Vast, waste, dreary. 
 
 Tall, courageous. 
 
 Trossers, trowsers. 
 
 Vaunt, the avant, the fore-part. 
 
 Tallow-kcech, tub of tallow. 
 
 Trot, a term of contempt. 
 
 Vaward, the fore-part. 
 
 Tame, ineffectual. 
 
 Trow, to imagine. 
 
 Velurc, velvet. 
 
 Tame-snake, a paltroon. 
 
 Trundle-tjiil. a dog. 
 
 Venetian, admittance. 
 
 Tarre. to excite, provoke. 
 
 Trusted, thrusted. 
 
 Vent, rumor. 
 
 Tartar. Tartarus. 
 
 'fry conclusion, try experiments. 
 
 Ventigcs. holes of a flute. 
 
 Task, to keep busied with scruples. 
 
 Tub-f;ust, the sweating process in the 
 
 Verbal, verbose. 
 
 Tas.'iel Gentle, or Tarcel Gentle, a spe- 
 
 venereal disease. 
 
 Verify, to bear witness. 
 
 cies of hawk. 
 
 Tucket, or tu<-ket sonnuanco, a flourish 
 
 Venew, a bout lin fi-ucing.) 
 
 Tasked, taxed. 
 
 on a trumpet. 
 
 Veugeance, mischief. 
 
 Taurus, sides and heart in medical as- 
 
 Tup, a ram. 
 
 Venes, hits. 
 
 trology. 
 
 Tup. to cover an ewe. 
 
 Veronese, a ship from Terona, 
 
 Tawdrv, necklaces worn by country 
 
 Turre, to whisper. 
 
 Ver.'iinff, writing verses. 
 
 girls. 
 
 Turlygood. or Turlupin. a gipsy. 
 
 Very, immediate. 
 
 Tawiiey Coat, the dress of an appa- 
 
 Tw.iiigling jack, a scurvy musician. 
 
 Via. a cant phrase of exultation. 
 
 ritor. 
 
 Twicken-botile. a wickered bottle. 
 
 Vice, the fool of the old moralities. 
 
 Taxation, censure, satire. 
 
 Twigging, wickered. 
 
 Vice, grasp. 
 
 Tear a cat, to bluster. 
 
 Tythiug, a district. 
 
 Vie. to brag. 
 
 Teen, grief, trouble. 
 
 
 Viewless, invisible. . 
 
 Temper, to mould. 
 
 U. 
 
 Villain, a worthless fellow, a servant 
 
 Temperance, temperature. 
 
 Umber, a dusky-colored earth. 
 
 Vild, vile. 
 
 Tend, attend. 
 
 Umbered, discolored. 
 
 Violcuteth, raged. 
 
 Tender, to regard with affection. 
 
 Unaccustomed, unseemly. 
 
 A'irginal, a kind of spinnet. 
 
 Tent, to take up residence, to search. 
 
 Uiianeled. without extreme unction. 
 
 Virtue, valor. 
 
 Tercel, th(! male hawk. 
 
 Unavoided. unavoidable. 
 
 ^'i^tuous, healthy. 
 
 Terms, the phraseology of courts. 
 
 Uubarbed, beardless, unshaven. 
 
 Virtuous, well-bred. 
 
828 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Tixcn, or Fixen, a female fos. 
 VizaniiiTit, advisement. 
 Vox, tone or Toice. 
 Vulgar, common. 
 Vulgarly, commonly, 
 
 W. 
 
 Wafl, to T'pckon. 
 
 Waf^c, to combat, 
 
 Waj^es. is eqaal to. 
 
 Waist, that part of a ship, between the 
 
 quarter deck and the foreastle. 
 Wai^l, the middle. 
 Walk, a district in a forest. 
 Wanned, pale. 
 Wanuion. Tengeance. 
 Ward, posture of defense. 
 Ward, guardianship. 
 Warden, a pear. 
 Warn, summon. 
 
 Was?el candlp, candle nsed at feetivala. 
 Wapsel?, rustic revelry. 
 Watch, a watch-light. 
 Water -work, water-colore. 
 Was. to f^row. 
 Waxen, increase. 
 Waxen, soft, yielding. 
 Wanton, a feeble or effeminate man. 
 Wappened, decayed, diseased. 
 Wiirjer. a pentinel. 
 Warp, to change from the natural 
 
 state. 
 Wee, Tory little. 
 Weeds, clothing. 
 Ween, to imagine. 
 Wei^h, to vaioe. or esteem. 
 Weird, prophetic. 
 Welkin, the sky. 
 Welkin-eye, Mue eye. 
 Well-a-ncar. lack-a-day! 
 Well-likin;^, plump. [ 
 
 Wend, to go. 
 
 Westward hoe, the name of a play 
 acted in Shakspeare's time. 
 
 Wether, used for a ram. 
 
 Wear, the fashion. 
 
 Welked, yaried with protuberances. 
 
 Wie'r, whether. 
 
 Where, whereas. 
 
 Whiffler, an officer in processions. 
 
 Whiles, until. 
 
 Whinidst. mouldy. 
 
 Whip, the crack, the best. 
 
 Whi)-.?tock. thecarter'3 whip. 
 
 Whirring, hurrying. 
 
 Wliist. being silent. 
 
 While, the white mark in the target. 
 
 \\ bite-death, the green sickness. 
 
 Wbiting-time. bleaching time. 
 
 Whitsters, linen blpachers. 
 
 Whittle, a pocket knife. 
 
 Whooping, measure and reckoning. 
 
 Wide, remote from. 
 
 WiMernesp, wildness. 
 
 Will, willfnineps. 
 
 Winipio, a hood or veil. 
 
 Winchester Goose, a strumpet. 
 
 Winking-gates, gates hastily closed 
 
 from fear of danger. 
 Winnowed, examined. 
 Winter-ground, to protect against 
 
 winter. 
 Wis, to know. 
 
 Wise woman, a witch, a fortune-teller. 
 Wish, to recommend. 
 Wit, to know. 
 Witch, to bewitch. 
 Withy, judicious, cunning. 
 Wit5. senses. 
 
 Wiitol, knowing, conscious of. 
 Wittol, a contented cuckold. 
 Woe, to be sorry. 
 
 Woman, to affect deeply. 
 
 Woman-tired, henpecked. 
 
 Wondered, able to perform wonclers. 
 
 Wood, trazy, frantic. 
 
 Wooden thing, awkward buFiness. 
 
 World to see, wonderful. 
 
 Woodman, an attendant on the forests. 
 
 Woolward. wearing wool. 
 
 Work, fortification. 
 
 Workings, thoughts. 
 
 Worm, a serpent. 
 
 Worth, wealth. 
 
 Worship, dignity. 
 
 Wreak, to revenge ; resentment. 
 
 Wrest, an instrument for tuning the 
 
 harp. 
 Wrested, obtained by force. 
 Wretch, a term of fondness. 
 Writ, writing. 
 
 Write, to pronounce confidentlr. 
 Writhled, wrinkled. 
 Wry, to deviate, 
 WroHg, hurt. 
 Wroth, misfortune. 
 Wrought, agitated. 
 Wrung, pressed, strained. 
 
 Yare, nimble, handy. 
 Varely, nimbly, adroitly. 
 Vearn. to grieve or rex. 
 Yeild, to inftirm of. 
 Yellowness, jealousy. 
 Yeoman, a bailiff's iollowers, 
 Yerk, to kick. 
 Yesty, foaming, frothy. 
 Young, early. 
 
 Z. 
 Zmy, a baffoon. 
 Zealous, pious. 
 Z'ld, a term of contempt. 
 
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