"UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA LIBRARY | | | | | | x000029276 ) nelOKO NSLIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA PRESENTED BY Mr. & Mrs. Harry Clemonsee Perr, eee eee es Cee Ade eee ie Vea eaee oe NONUMENT TO. SHAKESPEARE . MOLY TRINITY CHURCH. STRATFORD-ON- cs a, doh Lc sci ied eli ie re rh AGLOSSARIAL NOTES VOLUMES,SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE., 1 SHAKSPEARE was born at Strat: n V\ arw tk kshire, on the 23d day 4 His family was above the vulgar John Shakspeare, was a con: ind had been an othcer - ; 1 mn of Stratford. He was likewise peace, and at one time a man ol ‘his last, however, ap- } latte f l ~ some n ins, In the latter life. His wife was the daughter ant , . : ' ' ert \rden, ol W ellineton, in the ick, by whom he had a family ol ns noet was the eldest son, and was at the tree-s hool of Stratford ; : | was soon remove d, and placed in a ; ct i wA some country attorney. he exact education has been lone a subject t is renerally agreed, that he did at is usually term«é d a literary educa- on: but he certainly knew enough of Latin and if ! | i Wea) Facer ; if! nat ; ey } Hindeed Haima! ae | acne t a fies Bae Hilts { i fi]IV SKETCH OF THE French to introduce scraps of both in his plays, without blunder or impropriety. When about eighteen years old, he married Anne Hathaway, who was eight years older than himself. His conduct soon after this marriage was not very correct. Being detected with a gang of deer-stealers, in robbing the park of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, near Stratford, he was obli- ged to leave his family and business, and take shelter in London. He was twenty-two years of age when he arrived in London, and is said to have made his first ac- quaintance in the play-house. Here his necessities obliged him to accept the office of call-boy, or prompter’s attendant; whois appointed to give the performers notice to be ready, as often as the busi- ness of the play requires their appearance on the stage. According to another account, far less probable, his first employment was to wait at the door of the play-house, and hold the horses of those who had no servants, that they might be ready af- ter the performance. But in whatever situation he was first employed at the theatre, he appears to have soon discovered those talents which afterwards made him ‘Th’ applause, delight, the wonder, of our stave.’ Some distinction he probably first acquired as an actor, but no character has been discovered in which he appeared to more advantage than in that of the Ghost in Hamlet: and the best critics aid inquirers into his life are of opinion, that heLIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. ¥ was not eminent as an actor. In tracing the chronolo 4 of his pl LYS, it has been dis« overed, hat Romeo and Juliet, and Richard II. and IIL, were printed in 1597, when he was thirty-three years oid There is also some reason to think that he commenced a dramatic writer in 1592, and Mr. Malone even places his first play, The First Part of He ory Ving in 1589, His plays were not only popular but approved by persons of the higher order, as we are certain rracious favour of Queen Elizal in, who was very fond of the stave 5 the patronage of th marl of Southampt in, to whom he dedicated some of his poems; and of King Ji mes, w y wrote 1 very gras ious le tter to him with his own hand, probably in return for the com- pDliunent S speare had paid to his majesty in the traredy of Macbeth. It may be added, that his uncommon merit, his ¢ indour, and eood-nature, are supposed to have procured him the admiration and acquaintance of every person distinguished for such qualities. It is not difficult, indeed, to trace, that Shakspeare was a man of humour, and a social companion: and probably excelled in that species Of minor wit, nol ill ad ipl d to conversa- tion, of which it could have been wished he had been more sparing in his writings. How lone he ac ted. has not been discovered: but he continued to write till the year 1614. During his dramatic career, he acquired a property in the theatre, which he must have disposed of when he retired, as no mention of it occurs in his will, Thev1 SKETCH OF THE latter part of his life was spent in ease, retirement and the conversation of his friends. He had accu mulated considerable property, which Gildon (in his Letters and Essays) stated to amount to 3001. per ann. a sum equal to 10002. in our days. But Mr. Malone doubts whether all his property amounted to much more than 200]. per ann. W hich yet wasa considerable fortune in those times; and it 1s supposed, that he might have derived 2001. annually from the theatre, while he continued to act. He retired some years before his death to a house in Stratford, of which it has been thought important to give the history. It was built by Sir Hugh Clopton, a younger brother of an ancient tamily in that neighbourhood. Sir Hugh was sheriff of London in the reign of Richard III. and lord mayor in that of Henry VII. . By his will he bequeathed to his elder brother’s son his manor of Clopton, &c. and his house by the name of the Great House in Stratford. A good part of the estate was in possession of Edward Clopton, Esq. and Sir Hugh Clopton, Knt. in 1733. The prin- cipal estate had been sold out of the Clopton family for above a century, at the time when Shakspe are became the purchaser, who, having repair d and modelled it to his own mind, changed the name to New Place, which the mansion-house afterwards erected, in the room of the poet’s house, retained for many years. The house and lands belonging to it continued in the possession of Shakspeare’s descendants to the time of the Restoration, when they were re-purchased by the Clopton familyLIFE OF SHAKSPEARE, vil Here, in May 1742, when Mr. Garrick, Mr. Mack- lin, and Mr. Delane, visited Stratford, they were hospitably entert ed under Shakspeare’s mul- Ons ~~ , ' out 1 ve . 6 < is re. 751 His exer Or. about —, ; ) ) the Ve I 17 Ge 2 l N ¢ \y | wwe to the Rev Mir ( ' f a rasirei, al fh Ol ove IO ie, who resided in it | ai but a few years, in consequence of a disagreement i} } _ ‘ ‘ sf 1 } with the inhabitants of Stratford. As he resided assessed too | ’ in the monthly rate towards the ; maintenance 1) , and Deln OT posed, he peevis y ae i 4 t fhat house sn uld never ; ; 17 i be assessed again d soon afterwards pulled it down, sold the materials ind left the town. He } j : j 7 se had some tine e cul adown onhakspeare Ss mul- : ts : berry-tree, to save himself the trouble of showing . ; , i a re it to visilors. Ih lt Ohakspeare pianteda this tree appears to be suilcienty authenticated. W here During Shakspeare’s abod: in this house, he enjoyed the acquaintance L1aSDIp of the 1 ] entlemen of the neighbourhood; and here he is thought to have written the play of ['welfth Nicht. He died on his birth-day, Tuesday, Apru : . . ’ | | | | . 0: 1616, when he had exactiy completed his if ‘ond vear; and was buried on the north f the chancel, in the great chur h at Strat- ford, where a monument Is plac ed in the wall, on ider an arch, in a sitting 1 whit h he is re pres¢ rte d ul _a cushion spread before him, with a pen posture a scroll of in bis right hand, and his left rest d onvill SKETCH OF THE paper. The following Latin distich is engraved under the cushion : Judicio Pylium, genio Socratem, arte Maronem, Terra tegit, populus meret, Olympus habet. Perhaps we should read Sophoclem, instead of Socratem. Underneath are the following lines Stay, passenger, why dost thou go so fast? Read, if thou canst, whom envious death has plac’d Within this monument: Shakspeare, with whom Quick nature died; whose name doth deck the tomb far more than cost: since all that he hath writ Leaves living art but page to serve his wit Obiit ano. Dni. 1616, JEt. 53, die 23 Apri. We have not any account of the malady which, at no very advanced age, closed the life and la- bours of this unrivalled and incomparable genius. The only notice we have of his person is from Aubrey, who says, ‘He was a handsome well- shaped man;’ and adds, ‘verie good company, and of a very ready and pleasant and smooth wit.’ His family consisted of two daughters, and a son named Hamnet, who died in 1596, in the twelfth year of his age. Susannah, the eldest daughter, and her father’s favourite, was married to Dr. John Hall, a physician, who died Nov. 1635, aged 60. Mrs. Hall died July 11, 1649, aged 66. They left only one child, Elizabeth, born 1607-8, and married April 22, 1626, to Thomas Nashe, esq. who died in 1647; and after- wards to Sir John Barnard, of Abington in North- amptonshire, but died without issue by either hus-band. was SHAKSPEARE. IX Judith, SI} aksp are’s youngest daughter, married to Mr. Thomas Quiney, and died 1661-2, in her 77th year. By Mr. Quiney } Ra i t ’ } } naa tree SOLIS, onakspr ire. Rik nara, and nas. who all died unmarried. The traditional ot Shakspeare having been the father of oir m Vavenant, has been feneralls discredited. n these imperfect notices,* which are all ‘ 1} : } ley } . i ve been able to coliect from the labours Ol ers and commentators, our readers couid more hiehly eratifying, than an account co U cal studies of this wonderful man, Mme prog ss of his pen, his inoral and social qualities, his ships, his rs, and whatever else con- t stitutes personal history But on all these te ics his « en ries, na s immediate successors, ' havé en ¢ y silent; 2 {if aught can here- afte cist vered, | must be by exploring ee eources Vi : 4 ‘ i rhe » ESE ned Ue aNnNIOUS } | | rest nes of Ur se “4 10 have de ted their whole lives na their most virorous laichis, to revive his memory, and strate his writings 1] : ‘ 4 Ley < little Itis equally unfortunate, that we know as little - : ; . . ; . | ot the Dp rress of his writings, as ol his persona : s - . . history [he industry of his illustrators los the * The first rerular attempt ata life of Shakspeare is | ‘ved to Mr. A. Chalmers’s variorum edition, P i iin 1805, of which we have availed ourselves in the LDOVE Ske ten A 2x SKETCH OF THE LIFE, &c. last forty years, has been such as probably never was surpassed in the annals of literary investiga- tion; yet so far are we from information of the conclusive or satisfactory kind, that even the order in which his plays were written rests principally on conjecture, and of some of the plays usually printed among his works, it is not yet determined whether he wrote the whole, or any part. Ws are, however, indebted to the labours of his com- mentators, not only for much light thrown upon his obscurities, but for a text purified from the gross blunders of preceding transcribers and editors; and it is almost unnecessary to add, that the text of the following volumes is that of the last correct- ed edition of Johnson and Steevens,TEMPES#2PERSONS REPRESENTED. Alonso, king of Naples. Sebastian, Ais brother. Prospero, the rightful duke of Milan. Antonio, his brother, the usurping duke of Milan Ferdinand, son to the king of Naples. ronzalo, an honest old counsellor o ' Na LeS. C la, / t old isellor of Napl Adrian, ) a . " > lore Se Francisco, § Caliban, a savage and deformed slave. Trinculo, a jester. Stephano, a drurken butler. Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Mariners. Miranda, daughter to Prospero. Ariel, an airy spirit. Iris, Ceres, Juno, spurts. Nymphs, Reapers, Other spirits attending on Prospero. Scene, the sea, with a ship; afterwards an unin habited island.TEMPEST SCENE I—On a ship at sea. A storm with th r and hining. Enter a Ship-master Be ATSWALN, B He 2 5 Sie? ; what cheer? Wy S the mariners: fall to’ yary j = es agcrou id bestir, be sul | Hat ] VI ie Ts B tts H .~myv hearts, cheerly, cheerly, my h Lhe 1 D-sull : tend LO the 1 5 low, till thou burst thy ' Wi { : Where g Boat ae ray r wr, keep be low. Ant. W here is the master, boatswainf oat Do vou not hearhim? You mar our la you do assist the storm. Re adily.14 TEMPEST. Act 1 Gon. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the seais. Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? 'Tocabin: si- lence: trouble us not. Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these ele- ments to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mis- chance of the hour, if itso hap.—Cheerly, good hearts.—Out of our way, I say. [ Hatt. Gon. Ihave great comfort from this fellow: me- thinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect ceallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage! Ifhe be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [ Exeunt. Re-enter Boatswain. Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lower, lower; bring her to try with main course. [A cry within.} A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather, or our oiice.— Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo. Yet again? what do youhere? Shall we give o’er, and drown? Have you a mind tosink? — Seb. A pox o’ your throat! you bawling, blas- phemous, uncharitable dog! 5 Boats. Work you, then. Aint. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. (1) Present instant.Scene I. TEMPEST. 15 Gon. 1\l warrant him from drowning; though ‘ +h. ‘ : } l ansi ae the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as ; " i leaky s l is ea’? wencn., Boats. ay her a-hold, a-h id: set her two Enter Mariners, wel. Jar. Ail | st! to prayers to prayers! all lost! , 0 pra) Exeunt. Gon. The i and prince at prayers! let us A? [. VV ire mere Ly one ited of our lives by Thi i la € { S\V¢ ms it, And ran st u m 1 co Mercy on us !—We z . } ' ~ we s ' i } wit ich Ire =~ Farewell, brother We split, we split, we split.— Ant. Let’s sink with the king. Fyxit. seo. Let’s tak eave ot him Exit. d: lone heath, brown = ; re : i _ ! ' ’ furz ny thing tne Wi s above be done. but | bULi Le. L\ I Be yy : : : ’ : So Ke A o S( EN RB Il / ‘yd } la }. beso | an Ee Ceéi of nero. Fenter P: snero and Miranda. Mir. If by 3 r art, mya irest father, you have Put ti wild waters inthis! r, allay them: At : , i os : 7 } ; 11 ‘v1 eftini or mite The sky. it seerms, would pour down stinking pitch, o ‘ } : ki ’< chee! iO the Welklll s ii Ky16 TEMPEST. Acti: Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer’d With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls! they perish’d Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e It should the good ship so have swallow’d, and The freighting souls within her. Pro. Be collected ; No more amazement: tell your piteous heart, There’s no harm done. Mira. O, wo the day! Pro. No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, (Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!) who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am; northat 1am more better _ Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. Mira. More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. Pro. Tis time [ should inform thee further. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me.—So; . erl Lays down his mantle. Lie there my art.—Wipe thou thine eyes; have comiort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’d The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely order’d, that there is no soul— No, not so much perdition as a hair, Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard’st ery, which thou saw’st sink Sit down: For thou must now know further. Mira. You have often (1) Before.il s 5 bi 4 PY \ f 1 } Ma Lani, aed tee S’s now come’ Lhe very mM lle is thee ope Wine ear, Pro. By what? by any other house, or o- wm a That t g ves in thy miu | What seest thou else Int levy cK {and abysine oF lune If ; remember’st t, ere Un 1 cam’st here, ‘ He Ww 1 1 cam ’st bere, U um \ ~ 1 Mar But that | do nol P) Thy mother was a ece of virtue, and | { wwact } f ter: and thy father fi id W that we can trom the nce? el ; } i l ° Both. both, my girl: , 74.41 . ley y sc THOU vy’ st, Wert we heay d thencs (2) Abyss.18 TEMPEST. Act 0. Mira. O, my heart bleeds To think o’ the teen! that I have turn’d you to, Which is from my remembrance! prooneaoe further, Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio,— I pray thee, mark me,—that a bee y should Be so one ele '__hew eon next thyself, Of all the world I lov’d, and to him put The manage of my state; as, at that time, Through all the signiories it was the first, And Prospero the prime duke ; ae so reputed In dignity, and, for the liberal art Without a parallel; those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother, And to my state grew stranger, being tr insported And wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle— Dost thou attend me? Mira. Sir, most hee dfully. Pro. Being once perfected how to erant suits, How to de ‘ny them; whom to advance, and whom To trash2 fi Tr over-topping ; new create d The creatures that were mine: | say, or chang’d them, Or else new form’d them: having both the key Of officer and affice, set all hearts lo ang tune pleas’d his ear ; that now he was : ? The ivy, which had hid my pri incely trunk, ods suck rd my verdure out on’t.—Thou attend’st not: I pray thee, mark me. Mira. O good sir, I do. Pro. I thus neclec one worldly ends, all dedicate To closeness, and the bette ring of my mind With that, which, but be being so retir’d, O’er- priz rd all popular rate, in my false } Awak’d an evil nature: and my trust, Like a good parent, did beret of him A falsehood, in its contrary as gr } roiher row iy eat As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, (1) Sorrow. (2) Cut away.1g A confid nce sans! bo nd He be ne’ thus lorded, } ‘ Kinnweni % ; , 1] ’ But V“ il my power mig eise exact,—iiKe one, pP Vow tne condition. ‘To me inveterate, ! ist rs suit; \\ , was, that he in lieu? o’ the premises,— Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,— Should nresently ex nate m ind mine Out of the dukedom: a faul Viilan, whereon,20 LEMPEST Act J Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open The gates of Milan ; and, }? the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying self. Mira. — Alack, for pity I, not reme mb” ring how I cried out then, Will cry ito’er again ; itis a hint, That wrings mine eyes. Pro. Hear a little further, And then Pil bring: thee to the present business Which now’s upon us; ithout the which, this story Were most impertinent. Mira. Wherefore did the y not That hour destroy us? Pro. ‘ Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. Dear, th y durst s . (So dear the love my people bore me) nor set A mark so ae ly on the business ; but With a urs fairer painted their foul ends. In few, hey hurried us aboard a bark : Bore us some le agues to sea ; ooh re they prepar’d A rotten « arcase of a boat, not rige’d, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast: the very rats Instinctive ly had quit it: there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sizh To the winds , whose Pity sighing back acain, Did us but lovi ing wrong Mira. Alack ! what trouble Was I then to you! Pro. O!acherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me ? 'Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heave n, When I have deck’d2 the se a2 with drcy ps full salt Under my burden g¢roan’d: which rais ‘di in me An unde ‘rgoing stomach3, to bear up Against what should ensue. (1) Suggestion. (2) Sprinkled. (3) Stubborn resolution.Scene IT. TEMPEST. oy Mira. How came we ashore? Pro. By Provide nee divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Ni iitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity (who being then appoint d Master of this des n, did give us, with ] > . e Rich earme: Ss, linens, stufis, and necessaries, Which since have steaded mu h; SO, of his gentle- = ° - . eo Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d me, From my own rary, with volumes that Mira. *Would I might Pro Now I arise :— Sit sti |. and he ir the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arriv’d; and here Have I, thy school-master, ma Le thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For va Mira. Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I ner | rs, and tutors not so careful. (For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm Pro. Know thus far forth.— By act id nt most strange, Dount ful fortune, Now my dear | iy, hath mine ene mies Brought to this shore: and by my presc ience [ find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star: whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Willever after droop.—Here « ease mort questions ; Thou art inclin’d to sk - tis a eood dulness, And give it way ;—I know thoucanst not choose.— Miranda sleeps. Come away, servant, come: I am ready now 5 Approa nh, my Ariel ; come. Enter Ariel. ee Ari. All hail, zreat master! grave sir, hail! I come *rertitinehes=tinemenre shan22 TEMPEST. Act J. teed To answer thy best pleasure ; be’t to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl’d clouds; to thy strong bidding, task Ariel, and all his quality. Pro. Hast thou, spirit, Perform’d to point! the tempest that I bade thee? Ari. To every artic le. [ boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flan’d amazement: sometimes, I’d divide, And burn in many places; on the top-mast, sprit, would I flame distinctly ; Then meet, and join : Jove’s lightning, the pre- The j ards, and bow cursors ©’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sirht-outrunning were not: the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most might) Neptune Seem’d to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble; Yea, his dread trident shake. Pro. My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil? Would not infect his reason? Ari. - a soul But felt a fever of th e mad, and play’d some tricks of di speration : all, a mariners, Plune’d in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, Then all a-fire with me : the king’s son, Ferdinand, With hair upstaring (then like reeds, not hair, Was the first man that le ap’d ; cried, Hell is « mpty, And all the de vils are here. Pro. Why, that’s my spirit! But w as not this nigh shore? Ari. Close by, my master. Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe? Ari. Not a hair perish’d ; In their sustaining garments nct a blemish * But fresher than before: and, as thou bad’st me, In troops I have dispers’d them *bout the isle: (1) The minutest article. (2) Bustle, tumult.Scene IT. The king’s son have I landed by himself; Whom | left ing of the air with sighs, In an odd ang of the isle, ana sitting, His arms in this sad knot. } - : Pro. Of the king’s ship, The mariners, Say. now wou hast dispos’d, i And : e fle Art. salfely in harbour ] 4} : ’ ‘ +} ] vA : } s the kine’s s - in the deep nook, where once owe ; ; : Thou « iti dst me up at muanignt to reich Uew : | a . , . 4} 4 ) 5 . From t © 5 “VEX berm O es,.' tnere sni s hid. r The mari : es stowed; . . ° 5 V\ nom, W Pas irm yoin’a to Meir suff I d la- J . } tf ip | eo [ } Ve f Sie€e) : ind tor the res ” the fleet, Which lI d rs’d. they all have met again; ‘ ; y nt there’s more work : Art. Past the mid season. Pro. At least tw lasses: the time ’twixt b.4 ; Must b us in spent most nreciously. Since thou dost give Let me remen r tne what thou hast promis’d, Which is not yet perform’d me. Pro. How now: moody? My liberty. Pro. B fore Un time be out? no more. [ pray thee Ri mer be ie | have d me t} ee worthy service 4 " | abling way? Told thee no lies, made no MISWKINSS, serv’d (1) Be rmudas. (2) Wave.DA TEMPEST. Act I. Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst pro- mise To bate me a full year. Pro. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ari. No. Pro. Thou dost; and think’st It muc h, to tread the ooze of the salt deep; 6 run upon the sharp wind of the north; To do me business in the veins 0’ the « arth, When it is bak’d with frost. flan. I do not, sir. Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forrot Ihe foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy, Was crown into a hoop? hast they forgot her? Ari. No, sir. Pro. Thou hast: whe re was she born ? speak ; tell me. Ari. Sir, in Arcier,! Pro. QO, was she so? | must, Once in a month, recount what thou hast b en, Which thou forget’st. This damn’d w itch, Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries ti rrible To enter human hearing, from Arejer hou know’st, was banish’d: for one thine she did, They would not take her life. Is not this true? Ari. Ay, sir. Pro. This blue-ey’d hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by the sailors. ; Thou, my slave As thou r port’st thyself, wast then her servant. too de Lic ate To act her « arthly and abhorr’d comm inds, Refusing her grand he sts2, she did he did confine thee, . ; s ; By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage And, for thou wast a spirit ’ (1) Algiers, (2) Commands,TEMPEST. } within whicn rift cds uLLy remesin hin which space she di qd, : e: where th u did t vent thy eels strike: then was this island t she did tter here , not honour’d with Yes: Caliban, her son. .I say so: he, that Caliban, service. [hou best know’st find thee in: thy groans netrate the Dreasts io: it Was mine art, l he ird thee, that mad gape I thank thee, master. ie 1) ] i re murmur’st, I will rend an oak, ntrails, till twe e winters Pardon, master: ndent to « nmand, Do so: aml after two days That’s mv noble master! say what: what shall I do? thyself like toa nympho’ the sea; ht but mine; invisible Si Go, take this shape, n’t: hence, with diligence. Eait Ariel. rt, awake! thou hast slept wel ; nzeness ot your story put Naa hse26 TEMPEST. Act I. Pro. Shake it off: come on ; We’ll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields ns kind answer. Mira. Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. Pro. But, as tis, We cannot miss! him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou ! speak. Cal. [}Vithin.) There’s wood enough within. Pro. Come forth, I say: for thee ; Come forth, thou toy toise ! there’s other business when? Re-enter Ariel, like a water-nymph, Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [ Ezat. Pro. Thou poisonous slave hims« lf Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! » got by the devil Enter Caliban. val. As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d With raven’s feather from unwholesome f n, Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all over! Pro. For this, be sure. to-night thou s} cramps, Side-stitches, that shall Shall, for that vast of ni ialt have pen thy breath up ; urchins! ght that they may work, All exercise on thee thou shalt be pin h’d As thick as honey -combs, ea Than bees that made them. Cal. This island’s mine, | ch pinch more stinging I oe I must eat my dinner y Sycurax, my mother, (1) Do without. (2) Fairies.IMPEST. Which thou tak’st from me. When thou camest first, 21 Thou strok’dst me, and mad’st much of me, \ rive 0 W at . id teach me how lo rg o ind how the less, | 1 then I lov’d thee Cursed t did s -All the charms ors rax. 1 tles ts, light on you! | » | ; es s 1 t you nave, \\ rat s mune \ l ,and here } UST me Init Lt . es you do keep from me . { O ho. O id been done! Thor st ' eopled else A bhorr¢ d slave; ess Wi not take, Be capable of a | pitied thee, Took pains to make thee spt ik, taught thee each ho One thing o rhe \ n tl 11 didst not, savage, Know t ‘ 1 ri Dut w yuld’st cabble like ee 1 most sh, | end wd thy purposes known: But thy vile them << a “a j Thouch thou didst learn, had that in’t which good i ( ould not ab Le to bi with ; therefore wast thou LD zervedly ynnfin’ da into this TOCK, Who hadst dese rv’d more than a prison.28 TEMPEST. Act J Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on’t Is, | know how to curse: the red plague rid! you, For learning me your language! : Pro. Hag-seed, he nce ! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou wert best, To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice? If thou rit ol et’ st,01 dost unwillingly What | command, Y Fill all thy bones with aches: make thee roar, ‘hat beasts shall tremble at thy din. Cal. No, "pi ay thee !/—_ must obey : his art is of such power, [ Aside. | rack thee with old cramps; it would control my dam’s god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Pro. So, slave; hence! Exit Caliban. we-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing : Ferdinand Jollowing him. ARIEL’S SONG. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands : Court’ sie d whe 2 you have, and kiss'd, (The wild waves whist2) Foot ut fe atly here and there f And, sweet S} rete 5. the burden bear. Hark, hark ! Bur Boweh, wowch. [dispersedly. The wate h-dogs bark : Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. | dispersediy. Hark, hark ! hear ee. : : 4 he strain of strutting chanticlere, : t Cry, Cor k-a-doodle-doo. Fer. Where should this music be? i’ the air, Or the earth? (1) Destroy. (2) Still, silent.TEMPEST. It sounds re und sure, it waits upon i Some fod ind. Sitting on a bank, Weeping ae my father’s wreck, Chis m . rept y me upon the waters ; B p Int [range Sea 0 ¢ knell I] ci / r Uf —_ding'-d no, bell. Burden, ding-dong Fer. The ditty does remember my drown’ Thi siness, nor no sound t now above me. : 4 j ] Pro. ‘Thet Lins of thine eye advance, Mira What is’t? a spirit? Lord, how it S t! Believe me, sir, It carries a e form But ’tis a spirit. Pro. No, we - it eats and sleeps, and hath , cn y lant whi h thou seest VW , the wreck | but he’s something stain’d Wit ‘ef. that’s beauty’s canker, thou mig ht’st hath lost his fellows, And strays al ut 1 ind tel. Mira. [ might call him natural8 TEMEEST. Act 1. XY I ever saw so noble. Pro. It goes on, | Aside. As my soul prompts it :—Spirit, fine spirit! Ill free thee Within two days for this. Fer. Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend '— Vouch safe my prayer May know, if you remain upon this is] land : And that you will some rood i instruction give, How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, ,O you wonder [f you be maid, or no? Mira. No wonder, sir ; But, cc rtainly a maid. Fer. My language? heavens! [ am the best of them tha it speak this speech, Were Ibi it where ’tis spoke hh. Pro. How! the best ? What wert thou, if the kine of Napl s heard thee? Fer. stial (), what might —No more :— face , non | the OCCASION SDECAKS LICE i Tce ja o sth ae se. | asleep With eyes v en; standing, speaking, moving, s than my custom: you j { Must be so too, if heed me. Wwauicn LO GO, < “7% : : Do so: to ebb, « Int O, : If \ » Dut knew how vou the purpose « herfsh, Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, + it! Ebbine men, indeed, You more invest It. Most often do so near the bottom run, Ry their own fear, or sloth.40 Seb. Pr’ythee, say on: The se ting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield. Ant. Thus, sir Althouch this lord of weak remembrance, this (Who shall be of as little memory, When he is earth’d,) hath here almost persuaded (For he’s a spirit of persuasion only,) The kine, his son’s alive; ‘tis as impossible T'hat he’s undrown’d, as he that sleeps here swims Seb. I have no hope That he’s undrown’d. Ant. O, out of that no hope, What great hope have you! no hope, that way, 1s Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me, That Ferdinand is drown’d? Seb. He’s gone. Ant. Then, tell me, Who’s the next heir of Naples? Seb. Claribel. Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i’? the moon’s too slow, ) till new-born chins Be rough and razorable: she, from whom We were all sea-swallow’d, though some cast again And, by that, destin’d to perform an act, Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come, In yours and my discharge. Seb. What stuff is this ’>—How say you "Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis ; So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions There is some space. Ant. A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Nuples 2—Keep in Tunis,See 7ué I. And let Sebastian w LiKe Say, this were death That now hath seiz i them ; why, they were no int ind how does your content eo. I remembe ry You did s ty ther Prosper: ; ’ : ‘i i And yi ] G 2 sit u 1 TY) I x 1M died be they That s . | : 7 eas Andn ere 1 ~ Here lie pro e S IiK¢ whom I If he were t hic : - veoh < f +4 With this t ste ree inches of ; | es ! his Can d eve you, a r thus, : ‘T'o the ve2 mieht put r : c ; rie who nis I t 7 a ~ en rm Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, | S if Ty< ' They’ ke suggestion, a | t laps milk ; ‘hey’ll tel lock to al usiness that They’ tel] the CiOCt pally pusin L We say befits the hiarr a Soh Thy case, dear friend, (1) A bird of the jack-daw kind. (2) Ever. (3) AbY hint,42 TEMPEST. Act I. Shail be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan, Pll come by in, Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou p pay’ "st: And I the king shall love thee. Ant. Draw together: And when I rear my hand, do you the To fall it on Gonzalo. Seb. O, but one > word. [ Z'hey converse apart, like ; Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible. Arr. My master throu danger Chat these, his friends, are in: For else his pro} ct die S, to k igh his art foresees the and sends me forth, xeep them living. Sings in Gonzalo’s ear While you here do snoring lie, Ope 7i-¢ yd Conspiracy : His time doth take : Tf of li fe you keep a care, Shake off slu me ae and be ware; Awake! awake! Ant. Then let us both be sudden. Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king! The ¥ wake. low now, »ho! awake! W hy are you Alon. Why,h drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking ? Gon. What’s the matter ? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your re pose, Even now, we heard a hoilow burst of bel] owing Like bi ills, or rather lions: did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly Alon. : I he ud nothing. Ant. O, twas ; a din to fri¢ht a monster Ss ear To make an. art eneie ! Of a whole h ‘rd of lions. ; sure it was the roarScene LI. Alon. Gon. Upon min ee ee wa 1.) All wound with add Do hiss me¢ TEMPEST. ‘ e ire t < ,C 1G, : . =¢ , ‘ ms S e iufe ' m these sts ! : } » i y WwW I | Ve ey’ nor pincn, mei’ the mire, | chatter at me, cy o's. which44 TEMPEST. Act Enter Trinculo. Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me, For bringing wood in slowly: I’ll fall flat ; Perchance he will not mind me. Z'rin. Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’ the wind: yond’ same black cloud, yond’ huge one, looks like a foul buinbard! that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond’ same cloud cannot choose but fall by pail- fuls.—What have we here? a man or a fish. Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell ; a kind of. not of the newest, Poor John. A strange fish! Were [ in England now (as once I was,) and had this fish painted, nota holiday-fool there but would givea piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makesa man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame begrar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Lego’ like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm. o’ my troth! Ido now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer; this isno fish, but an islander, that hath lately sufferé dby athunderbolt. {7Z'hunder.) Alas! the storm is come again: my best wary is to creep under his craberdine :2 there is no other shelter hereabout : misery ac quaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of the storm be past. ’ Enter Stephano, singing ; a bottle in his hand. Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die a-shore -— This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral T ‘ - - ~ Well, here’s my comfort. | Drinks (1) A black jack of leather, to hold beer. (2) The frock of a peasant.deene J. ryyi 7 st ; } of ps i} — j aol } t The Tia >. [/t€ Sila er & boal of j alt l \ f i As i ~ m ‘ ny 4 wi e “ S it nath veen said ’ s, cannot 2 a e isle, with four an agwue: where *}} ave ! | Willi Zive inat if | can reco- hi 1S I ' ver fim, a | et } r | get to Naples with him, he’s en iy emperor that ever trod On fi 3.16 f ( LD rirtieii Lit yr’ yther 1’1) i my wood ne faster the Wi } ’ 4 . *1] never Grunk wilh afore, iW Will his fit: if | can recove! him, an will not take too much for him; “ore 1} } I ryitnh ida t SOUTLILAL that natn ! 3 t aly Cal. Thou a st me yet OUl | ; i i f 1 does not talk after bottle: if he have og near to reme¢e ve d keep him tame, Il he shall pay for him ittle hurt; thou wilt j | Lis , Anon, | KNOW IL DY ty tre mODUung s Now Prospt I works upon the c. (1) India. if Bi be Bae | i i ba.46 TEMPEST. Act Il Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth, here is that which will give language to you, cat; open your mouth: this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who’s your friend : open your chaps again. T'rin. I should know that voice: it should be— but he is drowned; and these are devils: O! de- fend me !— Ste. Four lees, and two voices: a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul spec ( hes, and to detrac t. If all the wine in my bot- tle will recover him, I will he lp hisague ; come.——— Amen ! [ will pour some in thy other mouth. T'rin. St phano,— “+. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy mercy! this is a devil, and no monster : I will leave hin : | have no long Spi On. Trin. Stephano !—if thou beest St. phano, toucs me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo:—be nox afeard,—thy good friend Trinculo. Ste. If thou beest Trincul o, come forth: I'l] pull thee by the lesser lees: if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are th y. Thou art ve ry Trinculo, indeed: how cam’st thou to be the siege! of this moon-calf ? Can he vent Trinculos? T'rin. I took him to be kill’d with a thund r- stroke :—But art thou not drowned, Ste phano? [ hope now, thou artnot drowned. Is the storm over-blown? I hid me under the dead moon- calf’s gaberdine, for fear of the storm: andart thou | living, Stephano? OSt phano, two Ne apolitans "se: ap d! Ste. Pr’ythee do not tutn me about; my onan is not constant. i Cal. These be fine thines. anif the y be not sprites, That’s a brave geod, and bears celesti: il liquor : I will kneel to hint. ° Ste. How didst thou *scape? How cam’st thou (1) Stool.heav’d ove the ba Casi s : Ste. ( Trin. Is he iaWeqa Ste. Con abomin , TEMPEST. ' S I Tile ’ \4 OU ¢ n stnitner Saif Vi - { ~ ; : . ! ade ol! | i s. 8ince i Was ~ ' : es n'cst. i ea duck; 1 can canstswim : e of ti { sinarocgK S How now t Ve Be en | was the 1 ¢ wore thee doe, d bush. 5 e | [ will VW 3 ~ i ~ OWw ag ; afer . f ous ‘ ‘ { I} “ und: Ly - | ~ unKeN g ‘ I ~ rmvselu Uy sub- } qa swea!l 4 spunpyTEMPEST. Act IL. fal. I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries ; I’ll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow the e, Thou wondrous man. ZT'rin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a wonder of a poor drunkard. Cal. I pr’ythee, let me bring thee where crabs 2 TOW 3 And I, with my long nails, will dig thee pig-nuts 3 Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmozet: [’ll brine thee To clust’ring filberds, and sometimes [’ll eet thee Young sea-mells! from the rock. Wilt thou 20 with mer : Ste. pr yr’ythee now, <— the way, without any more talking.—Trinculo, the king and all our com- pany else eins Kl d, we will inherit here.— Here ; beat my bottle: Fellon Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. Cal. Farewell master ; Jarewell, farewe il. [Sings dr unk enly. Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster. Cal. JVo more dams I'll make Sor fish ; Nor Ste tch in Sir ing Alt requiring, JNVor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish + jan, >Ban, Ca—Caliban, Has a new master—Get a new man. reedom, he y-day! hey-d: Ly; hey-day, freedom ! Ste. O brave monster! lead the aw ay. | Exeunt. freedom: freedom, (1) Sea-gullsScene 1. SCENE [.—Before Prospero’s cell. Enter Fer- ls rens Wi it’s de d, < & (). sti 18 % nel father’s crabbed ; snness. | must remove - id pile them up, m sweet mistress As s me work and says, such L forget , - do even refresh my la- \ [ doit pray you, ten hard: I would, the ligntnin had are enjoin’d to pile i 7 -¢ vou: when this burns, ti ; wearied you My father Us or wearl vA} atopy pray n w, rest yoursell ; Ol ~ et urs. : © most dear mistress, ’ f T shall discharge in ( ! ’ | ; } nu : : If vou’ll sit down, . - Een nray give me that; r ¥ 1* ke rs ( iii pl A! ; ¢ 4.5 the D Jo. nrecious creature : 10, J | : ‘ bre ak My bat Ayd0 TEMPEST. Act Fel, Than you should such dishonour unde reo, While I sit la zy by. Mira. It would become me As well as it does you: and I should do it With much more ea3e: for my good will is to it, And yours against. Pr 0. Poor worm! thou art infected : This visitation shows it. Mira You look wearily. Fer. No, noble mistress ; ’tis fi sh morning with me, When you are by at nicht. I do beses ch you bi” f] y; that I might set it in my prayers What is your name? a Mira. Miranda :-—O my father, I have broke your hest! to say so! Fer. \dmir’d Mirand Indeed, the ee ion ; worth W hat’s de irest to the world. Full many a lady I have ey *d with st rerard: and m: ny atime The harm my of their tonzues hath into b ndage Broue oy my too ail gent ear: for several virtues Have I lik’d pavers women: With so full soul. but some Did quarrel with the noblest erace she ow’d,2 And put it to the foil: but vou, O you, So pe rfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature’s bi st. Mira. I do not know One of my sex ; no woman’s fa Save, from m never any | caetect in her ce remembe rs olass, mune OWns; nor hay e | seen Nex. that I m Ly call me n, than you, good friend And my dear father: hov features are abroad, I am skill-less of : but by my modesty (The jew | in my dovwe ry I would not Wish Any companion in Nor can imagination form a shape “9g Beside wonlt 2C51GeS Vour'se ils to like of: bi it | pre attle the world but you; 9 (1) Command. (2) Own’the world M I l am a fool, P; Fair encounter Ot tw most ral iiect Ss tieavens rain grace PB » VV heretore weep you? Vira Af mine uns ess, t dare not oer What I des t rLy ¢ 1 7 rn iess take, What lI s We to \ if But this is tiling ; Th eC] ‘ vs Hence, bashful « unning And 1 ] Lnory il iocence ! ] Iti { l \ i) : a lf Ol, it \ r maia to be vour lellow You may deny me; Du ll be your servant, cry ‘ : ; 4 V\ her you Will OF Nv. My mistress, dearest, My husband thep ? (1 ) VV hatsoever.TEMPEST. Act ITI. Fer. Ay, witha heart as willing As Sontice eer nf freedom: here’s my hand. MMira. And mine, with my heart in’t: And now farewell, Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand! thousand ! [Eweunt Fer. and Mir. Pro. So clad of this as the -y, I cannot be, Who are surpris *d with all: but my rejoicing At ee can be more. Ill to my book ; For yet, ere supper time, must I perform Bh estan aaypi taining. (Exit. SCENE II.—Another part of the Tsland. Enter Stephano and Trineculo: Caliban following with a bottle. Ste. Tell not me ;—wwhen the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before : therefore bear up, and board ’em: Se rvant-monster, drink to me. Trin. Servant-monster? the folly of this island! They say, there’s but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if the other two be brained like us, the state totters. Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee thy eyes are alm et set in t] 1y head. Trin. Where s hould the v be set e lse? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. Ste. My man-monster hath drowned his tongue in sack: for my part, tl e sea cannot drown me: [| swam, ere I could recover the shore. five -and- thirty learues, off and on, by pis liht.—T hou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list: he’s no stand- ard, : Ste. We’ll not run, monsieur monster. Trin. Nor go neither: but you'll lie, like dogs ; and yet say no ine r neither. Ste. Moon-ca lf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-< calf.IT. TEMPEST. Cal. How does thy honour? Scene Let me lick thy “ ; ] ll not serv im, he is not valiant. "Tn } 2 ‘ ° Tryin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster ; I amin thou cle boshe q! 1 ’ case to justle a constable: Why fish thou, was there ever man a cov ird, that hath drunk so mu sa is { -day e Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but halfa fish, and half a mon- ster: Cal. To. how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, Trin. Lord, quoth he !—that a monster should Col. Lo. lo, at 1! bite him to de ith, I pr’ ythe e, Ste. ‘Trinculo, kee 1 -ood tong ur in your he id : il you prov 1 mutineer, the next tre¢ ~The poor monster’s my subject, and he sh ill not suffer indig- Cal It ink my! { lord Wilt thou be pleas’d n one i made thee ? Ste. Marry will I: kneel, and repeat it; 1 will 7 + bie oe Enter Ariel, wnvisv0le. , oa tyrant; . that his cunning hath Art. Thou liest. Cal. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would, my valiant maste! would destroy thee ; | do not He. Ste. Trinculo, if you tr uble him any more in his tale. by this hand, [ will supplant some of your teeth. Tran. Why, I said nothing. Ste. Mum then, and no more.—( 7'o Caliban. } Prox ef d. Debauched.£ 54 TEMPEST. Act I. Cai, I say, by sorce ry he got this isle ; From me he dr te thy creatness wil Rey venge it on him—for, I know, thou dar’st ; But this thine dare not. See. 1 lat’s most certain. Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee. : Ste. How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou by ing m to the party ? Cal } 1. YEA. it lord: i Where thou mavy’st knock a nail into his he ad, Ari. Thou lie st, thou canst not. Cal. What a pied ninny’s this !1 pate bE [ do besee h thy ereatne ss, zive him b lows, And take his bottle from hits : when that’s eone. Heshall drink nou oht but brine: Wher re th qui Ik Ste. Trinculo, run into no cpp r danger; inter- tupt the monster ¢ ne word furth Ill yield him thee asleep, Thou scurvy for Pll notshow him freshes?2 are. ler, and, byt this hand, “Il turn my ms rcy out of doors ana make ash of thee. Trin. Why, what did [? further off Sfe. Didst the ou not say, he lied ? Ari. Thou lie St Sie. ‘araaee take thou th: it. [strikes him.) Ags you like this, vive me th a stock- [ did nothine; Pl] 20 iy ¢ e lie another time. Trin. I did not five the lie -—QOut o’ your wits, and hearine too ? me aay pox 0’ your bottle ! this can sack, and d inking do.— -A murrain on your mon- , and the devil take your fingers! Cal. Ha. ha, ha! Ste. Now fur the r off. ster , forward with your tale. Pr’ythee, stand val. Beat him enough: after a little time, Pll beat him too. Sie. Stand further.—Come, proceed, (D Alluding t 0 Tiinculo’ 8 party-coloured dress. ‘i Springs,Scene II. TEMPEST. 55 Cal. Why, as I told thee, *tis a custom with him I there thou may’st brain hy the aivern mn to sleep : Le I! Having first seiz’d his t ‘ks: or with a loz Batter S SKU 1) 1 ith 1 stake, Or Il s \ Remem ery First } 5 . thnout tnem lo hate him, He has .ve utensils r so ills them,) e. he’ll deck withal. 7 | Lhe { nseil 7 | uv Ww r wn f si saw woman, ; 1 ch Bi _ is ul sh s 5 _ Ke Az createst does least. 1 | ? tso brave a lass And bring th rave brood. Sie. Monster, | ¥ ill this man: en. SHVGe and | and ‘1’ i thys shall be vi chou like Trin. EX ent ' hand: | n sorry I beat thee : Sle (sive me thy ! “a: ail Lut, while 1 a good . Cal Wit in this h lf hour will he be ¢ Wilt thou di stroy him then‘ S/¢ Ari. This™ \| I tell my master. Cal. ‘Thou m ik’st me merry Let us bye jyocun You taught me | Sie. At thy request, 1: Will you troll the cat h ut while-ere monster, (1) Throat. thy bed, [ warrant, nis a Luchter * ur YraCcs - “ePTOYV>. Dost Ay. on mine honour. [ am full of plea- I will do reason,56 TEMPEST. Act II] any reason: Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. | Sergrs. Flout’em, and skout ’em flout ’em ; Thought is free. Cal. That’s not the tune. [Ariel plays the tune ona tabor and Pipe. Ste. What is this same? Trin. This is the tune of the picture of No-b dy : Ste. If thou beest ‘a man, show thyself in thy likeness; if thou beest a d and skout’em, and our catch, played by evil, take’t as thou list. my sins! Ste. He that dies, pays alldebts: I d Mercy upon us! Cal. Art thou afeard ? Ste. No, monster, not I. Cal. Be not af ard: Sounds, and sweet airs not. Sometimes a thousand Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had wak’d after lone sle D, Will make me sley pagain: and then, in dreaming, The clouds, methought, would open, and rie hes Ready to drop upon me: ] cry’d to dream again. Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. val. When Prospero is destroyed, Ste. That shall be by Story. : Trin. The sound is going away: let’s follow it. and after, do our work. Ste. Lead, monster: we'll follow.—I would, | ecould see this taborer: he lays it on. Z'rin. Wilt come? [ll follow, Trin. O, forgive me efy thee :— the isle is full of noises, , that give delight, and hurt twangling instruments show that, when I wak’d, and by: Iremember the Stephano. ( ExeuntScene LIT. SCENE III.—Another part of the Island. En ter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gi nzalo, Adrian, | sea MOCKS Ant. Iam right g 3 § t of hops } ( sedasuan Do not, for go the purpose That 1 re ' % Lhe next advantage eit to-night ; *d with tr vel, they Will not, n ’ mot, use Sl h vieilan : I say, to-night: no more. ’ } ‘ } ‘ I of 7 * “7 L fFrosp ro above Nolerri. ¢ a I , Ut ‘ 5 e } . j . “17 yp ipes, bring- e about it with gen- J - - | inviting the king, or od fi iends, nat : ’ Gon. Marvellous sweet music . : “A ¢ Alon (51 é S KITA ke f ' LS» leave ns !_W hat Q Our lat58 TEMPEST, Act IIT. Seb. A living drollery ; ! Now I will beli That there are unicorns: that in Arabia Chere is one tree , the oe throne: At this hour re lgning ther ley ey one pheenix ere Ant. Ill believe both - Ad what does else want cr dit, come to me, And I'll be sworn ’tis true - Travellers ne ’er did lie, Thou: “h fools at pial cond mn them. Gon. If in Naples , we a they believe If I shou Id say I saw such island; rs (F or, certe 5,2 these ¢ are pec ple € of the een W ho, thoue Ss th ley are Of mi NStrous shay De : a hei manners ¢ rs are more ov ntle-kj Our human e Many, n: L) Pro. Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there r Are worse than de ils, ; Aside Alon. | cannot too much muse,3 Such shapes, such gesture I should re ‘port this now me? » note, na, u lan of veneration you shall find , almost any, resent, » and such s und, ex ressing (Although they want ¢] he use of toneus Of excellent dumb d iscourse, a kind Pro. Praise in dk parting, Aside. Fran. They vanish’d strangely. Sed. No matter, sing e They have left their viands bs hind; for we have Sto mac } .—— Will’t ple ast \ ou taste of what is here ? Alon. Not I. Gon. Paith, Sir, you need not f, ar: When we wer bo VS, Who would be lieve that there were mou; nts LIne ers, Dew-la Pp’ lik Whose throats had hangi ing bulls, at t} levy Wallets of fi he or that there were sach men, (1) Show. (2) Certainly. (3) Wonder.59 Whose h ads stood in their breasts? -vhich now we . } . - 7 . Ea nh “utter if on Nive tor one, will bring us £hv it ‘ - [ : } fer Ariel / kea har- ; j ta j ard with a ‘ 5 \ G Uw t/Lei7 swords. And eve . 1 SUf f ’ it, Jaci hang and Then i | S es \ I Is [and my fellows Cf w ry j VM cis e ter er’d, may as well W, rT d thy na wv S. ry } emock d-at stabs Your swords are now too massy for your strengths, And w not u ed: But, remember! For that’s my business to 1,) that you three Krom Mi naidas OF t or d Prospero; f rit lL. Wi [ ith requit rf. Him. and his innocent child; [o1 which foul deed The owers, a ving, Not i vetting, have , all the creatures, 4 Aveainst your f : nee, { uly son, Alonso, pronounce by me,60 TEMPEST. Act Ilk Lingering perdition (worse than any death Can be at on e) shall step by step attend You, and your ways; whose wrath to guard you from ‘Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart’s sorrow, And a clear! life ensuing. He vanishes in thunder : then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance with mops and mowes, and carry out the table. Pro. {Aside.| Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform’d, mv Ariel; a grace it had, devouring : Of my instruction hast thou nothing ’bated, In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life, And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done: my high charms work, And these, mine enemies, are all knit up In their distractions : they now are in my power ; And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit Young Ferdinand (whom they suppose is drown’d, ) And his and my lov’d darling. [i vil Prospero from above. Gon. I’ the name of something holy stand you ; In this strange stare? Alon. QO, it is monstrous! monstrous ! Methoucht, the billows spoke, and told me of it: The winds did sing it tome; and the thunder, That de ep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc’d , sir, why The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my soni’ the ooze is beddk d; and Ill seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded. [ Eevit. Seb. But one fiend at a time, (1) Pure, blameless.J. TEMPEST. S cé7Teé Ill fight their legions o’er. Ant. I?ll be thy second, [Exeunt Seb. and Ant. Gon. All three of them are de sperate ; their Like poison yen lO WOrK a great time after, Now ‘gins to bite the spirits :—I do beseech you Phat are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, ) i } And hinder them from what this ecstasy! Adr. Follow, 1 pray you. | Exeunt. AUT iy, SCENE l.— Be fore Pro Spt ro’s cell. Enter Pros- pero, | erdadinanda, amd Miranda. I Pro. If I have toc austerely pt nish’d you Your compensation Mm ikes ame nas; for | Have o1Vve 0 you here a thread Of mine own life, Or that for which I live: v m once af@ain ]l tender to thy hand all thy yvexations Were but my tri ils of thy love, and thou Hast sti inzely stood tne ‘te st: here, afore Heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smilie al me, that | boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, And make it halt behind her. Fer. I do believe it, Against an ora¢ le. Pro. Then, as my zift, and thine own acquisition Worthily purchas’d, take my) daughter: But If theu di st break her virgin knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minister’d, (1) Alienation o f mind. eae: rr HP SCRE SSE is62 TEMPEST. Act IV. No sweet aspersion! shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow ; but barren hate Sour-ey’d disdain, and discord, shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so k athly, That you shall hate it both: 1] erefore, take heed As Hymen’s lamps shall light you. Fer. As | hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, ; ) With such love as ’tis now; the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion Our worser Genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust: to take away The edge of that day’s celebration, V\ he n | shall think, O! Pha bus’ stec ds are founder’d, Or night ke pt chain’d below. Pro. Fairly spoke : Sit then, and talk with her, she is thine own.— What, Ariel: my industrious servant Ariel! Enter Ariel. Ari. What would my potent master? here I am. Pro. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last S¢ rvic Le , . Did worthily perform ; and I must use you in such another trick : go, brine the rabl le, O’er whom | give thee power, here, to this place. Incite them to quick motion; for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art; it is my promise, And they « xpect it from me. Ari. Present y ? Pro. Ay, with a twink. Ari. Before you can say, Come, and £0, And breathe twice ; and ery, so, so; Each one, tripping on his toe. Wil be here with mop and mowe: De vou love me, master? no. (1) Sprinkling,LEMPEST. 6: Till thou dost near me call. Ari. Well I conceive. _ Exit. Pro. Look, thou be true; do not give dalliance est oaths are straw l’o the el tne i De more aDstemious, Fer | warrant you, sir; The white- l vi 1 snow upon my heart ADates the ardoul!l i my liver. : Pro. Well.— Now { me, M\ Ariel : bring . corollary,! t; appear, and pertly.— Soft musie. Se. mil SCves .. VSO. Sin if is Ceres Ss, most | Lteé S idy, thy ri¢ h leas | . Of w it. rye, ey, vetches, oats, and pease ; Thy ae y Ti j s. ve Cl ye nMiDDUuNng sheep, A ; ‘ ‘ ; ; ‘ ‘ } And itm : \ S er, them lo Keep 4 Thy ) IKS WILN De la I eq Oruls, Which sponey At at thy hest- betrims, To mak | nymphs chaste crowns; and thy Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, om vineyard; eon And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard, : 4] ky ! Ihe queen o’ the sky, VV} me watery arch, ana messenger, alin I, Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign Her on this erass-plot, in this ve ry place, ry T'o « ne and snort: ner peacot ks fly anal 4 A pproas n. ncn Ceres, her to entertain. Yn fow (‘prac inter Ceres. me Cer. Hail, many- olour’d messenger, that ne'er / oe ae (2) Co 7 (1) Surplus. (2) Command.64 TEMPEST. Act IF. Dost msobey the wife of Jupiter ; Who, with thy saffron wing's, upon my flowers Diffusest hone -y-drops, refre hing » showers : And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky! acres, and my unshrubb’d down, Rich scarf to my proud e ‘arth: W hy hath thy queen Summon’d me ft her, to this short-erass’d ereen ? Iris. A sm ract of true love to celebrate : And some donation tree ly to estate On the bless’d lovers. Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know, Jo now attend the queen? since they did plot The means, that dusky Dis2 my d: taste r got, Her and her blind boy’s sc andal’d company [ n lave forsworn. Tris. Of her socie ty Be not afraid: I met her de ity Cutting the clouds towards P aphos ; and her son Dove-drawn with her: here tho ught they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are, that no bed-rite shall be paid Till Hymen’s torch be lighted: but in vain ; Mars’s hot minion is return’d arain: Her waspish-headed son has broke his : arrows, Swears he will shoot no more, but play with spal rows, And be a boy right out. Cer. Highest queen of state, Great Juno comes; I know her by her gait. Enter Juno. Juno. How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this tw: iin, that the »y may prosperous be, And honour’d in their issue. ) Wa dyScene I. TEM SO Ho s Ji s/ Cer Earth’s B ( } Pla S / / ) Pro. Juno and Ceres whisp: The re’s something ¢ Ilse Or els our sp I} is marr’ : li’d Naiads, of the wand’ ring Iris. Yo With vour sede’d crown ners Leave your Crisp Cihidtiti Answ r your summons , (1) Abundance. (2 Al VOL. IL. E PEST. NG. es, marriapre- le sunn 9 ince, and increasing, } Sa? as ; C Olt Upon VOU; DLESSINLS OTL YOU, } 7 e, and forzon! plenty ‘ , Ler Ss Ti er ¢ Di : yy 2 01 CheES O rmno e 2 u? r/ no J . , , (ll € fartlé ss oT I €St ° L 4 } } ha ,o SALUT Wo Ys .¢ Vou, nnes Ci ’d to enact Sweet now, sile nce; r seriously to do: hush, and be mute, ; is, and ever harmless looks, _ and on this green land Juno does command : le to produce such wonders. i 4 ements ste acs sresassnestcss66 TEMPEST. JL; Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love; be not too late. Enter certain JVymphs. You sun-burn’d sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow, and be merry ; Make holy-day : your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. Ent fo rtain Reapers, properly habit d they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance ; to- wards the end whe re of Prospero starls suddi nly, and speak S 5 afte rT wh rch, lo a strange . hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish. Pro. [Aside.| I had forgot that foul conspiracy Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates F Against my life ; the minute of their plot Is almost come.—! 7'o the Spir its. | Well done :— avoid :—no more. ) Fer. ‘This is most strange: your father’s in some passion That works him strongly. Mira. Never till this day, Saw I him touch’d with anger so diste mper rd. Pro. You do look, my son, in a moy d sort, As if you were dismay ’d: be cheerful, sir: Our revels now are ended; these our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-c: ip yp’d towers, the foreeous palaces The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all w He h it aie ‘rit, shall dissolve : And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,! (1) Vanished.[ thought t ( Lest | mig ‘ Pro. 3 1g i ets Art I told y ral ik - So full of va ir. U For kissing of thei ry. : : Towards the pro Advan ¥d the r ¢ As they smelt musi ‘4 6 fT i} T nat, Call-iike, Une probable that t TEMPEST. ty hind : We are such stuff le of, and our little life sleep.—Sir, | am vex’d: 1eSS my old Drain is troubled. vith my infirmity re »>mMmVv Ce i. rn or two Vl walk, We wish your peace. Exeunt -| thank you :— What’s thy Spirit, y meet with Caliban. commande! when | presented but I fear’d, where didst thou leave these 0. sir. they were red-hot with hat they smote the air heir faces: beat the ground r feel vet alw Lvs bending’ Then I beat my tabor, k’d colts, they pri k’d thet JACE i ; , ve-lids, lifted up their noses, so | charm’d their ears, y my lowing follow’d, through louds in motion; but it 13 most , author wrote track. SSS eS oe!68 TEMPEST. Tooth’d briers, thorns, Wh ch entered their frail shins: at last I left them I’ the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake O’er-stunk their feet Pro. This was well done, my bird Thy shape invisible retain thou still : The trumpery in my me go, bring it hither, For stale,! to catch these thieves. Art. I go, I go. [ Exit. Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture? can never stick: on who m0 my pains, Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; And as, with ae, his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers : Act IF’. sharp furzes, pricking goss, and L will plague them all, Re-enter Ariel loaden with glistering apparel, &c. Even to roarin —Come, hang them on this line. Prosperoand Ariel remain invisible. E!nter Cali- ban, Ste phano, and Trinculo: all wet. Cal. Pray, you, ti may not Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. Ste. Nonste ry Your fairy, harmless fairy Jack3 with u: Trin. Mor nster, I do smell all horse- piss; at which my nose is in great indionation. Ste. Sois mine. Do you hear, monster? I{ [ should take a displeasure against you; Z'rin. ‘Thou wert but a lost monster. Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour still - Be | patient, for the prize Pll bring thee to Shall hood-w ink this mischance : therefore, speak softly, ead softly, that the blind mole which, you say, is a , has done little better tha n played the look you,— (1) Bait. (2) Education. (3) Jack witha lantern.Scene I. TEMPEST. 69 All’s hush’d as midnicht yet. Trin. Ay, but to los our bottles in the pool ,— Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, t an infinite iOSs. I’rin. That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster. ; Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er Cal Pr’y thee, my king, be quiet: Seest thou here, This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischief, which may make this island Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, Sf . Give me thy nal i [ do becin to have bloody Trin. O kin Stephano! O peer! O worthy Step no , W { Wal lrobe here is for thee! Cal. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. Trin. O. ho, monster; we know what belongs to Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what do you To doat thus on such luggage ? Let’s along, And do the murder first; u he awake, From toe to crown he’l! fill our skins with pinches , Ste. Re you quiet, monster.— Mistress line, is not Now is the jerkin under the line: this my jerkin : Master, and the ly », Cntorce them to th And presently, I pr’ythee. atswain, Being awak. is p ace’: I Art. I drink the air before me, and return (); e’" I Jou! pulse twice Ly al. BE at Ariel. Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amaze- nent Inhal its he re : Some he avenly power cuide us Out of this f arful cou ntry Pro. Behold, sir The w ronged duke of Milan, Prosp. ro; kor more assurance that a Does now s) And to the e. A hearty we lcome. Alon. Whe’r! thou beest he, or no, Or some ench anted trifle t » abuse me, As late I have h en, I not know - Beats, as of flesh and blood : fae we tion of King, living y prince [ eml race (ny body and thy company, ] bid ' : cak to thee, ‘ thy pulse and, since I saw thee, my mind amends, with which, e madness held I fi ame: this must craye (An j if this be at all } | , AL all) a most strange story, 1y dukedom | 10uU pardon me my Wrongs :—But how should Pros; ero resion:; and do entreat l T Whether.Scene I. TEMPEST. Be living snd he here ? ving, ANG Ve ere, Pro. First, noble friend, Let me em ice { ine awe ; whose honour cannol i re Ant l her s hig oo. 7 s 1 Uil te : » { Ss l I / le P) \ iN | t \ TY eT Tu make the dear loss, hav: | means much weaker , 2 Be arable.i k t | | i 76 TEMPEST. Than you may call to comfort you; for] Have lost my daughter. Alone... z A daughter ? O heavens! that they were liy ing both in Naples, The king and queen there! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose daughter? Pro. In this last tempest. [ At this encounter do so much Act P. your perceive, these lords admire, That the y devour their reason : and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural! breath : but, howsoe’er you have Been justled from your senses, kno That I am Prospero, and tha Which was thrust forth of Mj] Upon this shore, where landed, To be the lord on’t. No more yet of this; For ’tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first me eting, This cell’s my court: And subjects none My dukedom since [ will requite y w for certain, duke an; Whomost strangely you were wreck’d, was { very Welcome, sir: here have I few attendants, abroad : pray you, look in. you have given me again, ou with as good a thing ; At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye, As much as me my dukedom. The entrance of the Cé ll opens, and discovers Fer- dinand and Miranda playing at chess. Mira. Sweet lord er. I would not for the world. Mira. Yes, for a score of kinedoms you should Wrangle, : i And I would Alon. A vision of the island, » you play me false. No, my dearest love, call it fair play. If this prove one dear sonScene I. Shall I twice lose. Seb. A most high Fer. ‘Though thes I have curs’d them For his 1;aVICE Is dauchter to this Of whom so olten But never saw ) 5 } Recels qa a set This lady makes I n Alo But O, how oddly wi , Must ask my chiid Pro. . Let us not bi rd n With a heaviness U Gon Or should have spok And on this couple For it is you, that Which brought us Alon. Gon. Was Milan mract 1c ft} ter. th - ore reity eas eaten, they are mercitul Without Cause. k'¢ rd. kneels lo Alon. Now all the blessings zt 1) iss Thee aDoul. O! wonder. res are there here! nd is! O brave new world, Tis new to thee. this maid, with whom thou wasl ; 1 ce cannot be three hours: ~ re tnel Q } 1 r, she’s morta: j Q ce, sne’s Mill ' 1 | s Ith fatwner ] 1 thought | had one: she us a e Ol Vlilan, ve heard renown, 1 i | wees f e. } econa ialher cy Trike l am he rs 3 | it sound that | ‘There, sir, stop .- ur remembrances it’s won [ have inly wept, e ere this. Look dow , yougods, drop a blessed crown ; e chalk’d forth the way hither ! | sav, Amen, Gonzalo. thrust from Milan, that his is:ue78 TEMPEST. Should become king of Naples? 0, rejoice Be yond a common joy ; and set i dow n With gold on lasting pillars: In one voy age Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis: And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife, Where he himself was lost ;P rospero his dukedom, In a poor isle ; and all of us, ourselves, When no man was his own.! Alon. Act P. Give me your hands - | Z'o Fer. and Mira. Let crief and sorrow still emt race his heart, That doth not wish you joy! Gon. Be’t so! Amen! Re-enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly Jollowing. O look, sir, look, sir: here are more of us! I prophe sied, if a wallet were on land, This fellow could not drown :-—Now, blasphemy, That swe; ur’st ah oathian shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found Our kine and company : the Which, but three classes since , We gave out split,— Is tight a yare,? and brave \ rigg’d, as when We first put out to sea. Art. Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. tgraceo’erboard, not next our ship, — y [ Aside. Pro. My tricksy? spirit ! ‘ Allon. These are not. natural events; they strengthen, ? From strange to Stranger.—Say, how came you hither ? Boats. If I did think, s I'd strive to tel] you. And (how, we know not Where, but even noises , | were well aw ake, We e were dead of sleep Py ) all clapp’d under hatches, now, with strange and several (1) In his senses, (2) Ready. (3) Clever, adroit.Scene I. Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awak’d; straightway, at liberty ; Where w f Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master f See eae hly beheld Cap’ring to eye her: Ona trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were wet divided trom them, And wer UI wnt n ine hither. Ari. Was’t well done ? ) Pro. Bravely, my diligence. Thou > [Aside shalt . Allon. This is as strange a maze as e’¢ rmen trod: nd there is in this b Was ever conduct! of : some oracle Must re tily our KI wleder Pro. S i my hie fe, Do not infest youl mind with b aun’ on Th stranzens SS f this Dusiness;: al pi k’d leisure, Which shall be shortly, single I’|l resolve you (Which to you shall seem probabie, of every The st happen’d idents 5 (t when be cheerful, And think of « ich ining we l. _Lomeé hi Set Calil in ana his ci my in] 18 fre eG; Untie the spell. {zit Ariel.) How fares my gra Sor few odd lads, that you rememDb« r not. ? / ° el ] } ( } Y Qt, nh: nos ] Re-enter Ariel, ¢ 1, Stephano, an rT’ / i " nes | Lii¢ Mm ere IT SLOLEll appare Ste. Every man shift for all the re st, and let no is but fortune :— man take Care Coragio, bull I C Trin. If thes true spies which I wear in my head, here’s a { div sieht Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed ! How fine my mast ris! Iam afraid (1D) Conductor. PIT POO LOL LEE a ToD80 TEMPEST. Act V. He will chastise me. Seb. Ha, ha; What things are these, | my lord Antonia? Will money buy them? Ant. Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable, Pro. Mark but the bi uge wiofthe ‘se men, my lords, Then s: ay, if they be true:'—This mis-sh; apen knave, His m 1othe r was awitch: and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs And deal in her comm: ind, without her power: These three have robb d ine; and this demi-deyil (Tor he’s a bastard one.) had plotte -d with them To take my life: two of ‘the ‘se fellows you Must know, and own: ; this thing of darkness I Acknow ledee mine. Cal. I shall be pinch’d to death. Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? Seb. He is drunk now: Where had he wine? Alon. And Trinculo is ree ling ripe: where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them ?— How cam’st we in this pickle ? Trin. I have | een in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: shall not fear fly-b lowing. Seb. Why, how now, Ste phano? Ste. O, touch me not: cramp. Pro. You'd be king of the ae) sirrah ? Ste. T should have been a sore one then. Alon. This is as strange a thing as e’er I look’d on. [ Pointing to C: ilibs m1. Pro. He is as disproportion’ d in his manne rs, As in his sh; lape :—Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions ; To oe my pardon, trim it hand Cal. [ am not Stephano, but a as you look somely, Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, (1) Honest.Scene I. TEMPEST. 81 And seek for erace: What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, And worship this dull fool! Pro Go to, Alon. Hence, a id bestow your away ! luggage where Exeunt Cal. Ste. and Trin. Pro. Sir, | invite your highness, and your train, To my poor cell: where you shall take your rest For this one night; which (part of it) Pll waste With such discourse, as, | not doubt, shall make it Go quick away: the story of my life, idents, gone by, And in the morn, "ll bring u to you! ship, and so to Naples, ]?\] Orit \ ) Where | have nope to see the nuptial Of thes i r-beloved solemniz’d ; : to my Milan, where Every third thourht shall be my grave, I long ur life, which must Take the ear strange ly. Pro. I And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, And sail so exp ditious, that shall « itch Your royal fleet far off—My Ariel; That is thy charge; then to the el lements FS . 11! Be free, and rare thou well. 1] deliver all: iol Cr AC Ny aside. Please you ; [Eaeunt, VOL. I. SSeSTEMPEST. EPILOGUE Spoken by Prospero NOW my charms are all o’erthrown, And what stre noth I have’s mine Own Which is most faint: now. tis truce I must be here confin’d by you, Or sent te Naples Let me not, Since [ have my dukedom fot, And pardon'd the deceive r, dwell In this bare isla nd, by your spell ; But release me Strom my bands, With the he lp of your good hands. Ge ntle Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please: now I want Spirits to ¢ nforce, art to enchant 7 And my ending is despair, Unless I be reliev'd by prayer ; that wt assaults nd frees all Saults. Als you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me Sree. hreath of yours my sails Which pierces so. Mercy itself, a (1) Applause : spell noise was supposed to dissolve a —>—___ It is observed of The Tem this the author of The an accidental effect of by our author. pest, that its plan is regular. Revival thinks, what I think too the story, not intended or! But, whatever might be Shakspeare’s in- tention in forming or adopting the plot, he has made it in- strumental to the production of many characte fied with boundless Invention, and preserved found skill in nature, extensive knowlec and accurate Observation of life. here exhibited princes, courtiers in their real char icters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly goblin; the operations of magic, the tumults of a storm. the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of £ullt, and the Pair for whom ou, final happiness of the Passions and : : JOHNSON “€ garded rs, diversi- with pro- lge of opinions, In a single drama are , and sailors, al] speaking reason are equally interested.TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.PERSONS REPRESENTED. Duke of Milan, father to Silvia. Valentine, / ane > Gentlemen of Verona. Hip | Proteus, \ of 4 Antonio, father to Proteus. Thurio, a foolish rival to Valentine. Eglamour, agent for Silvia in her escape. Speed, a clownish servant to Valentine. Launce, servant to Proteus. i Panthino, scrvant to Antonio. hi bit | Host, where Julia lodg.s wn Milan. iit Out-laws. wy Julia, a lady of Terons, veloved by Proteus. Wen Silvia, the duke’s daughter, beloved by Valentine 1H Lucetta, waiting-woman to Julia. lel bh Servants, musicians. if Scene, Sometimes in Verona ; sometimes in Milan, and on the frontiers of Mantua.TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. ACT I, ) SCENE I.—An open place in Verona. Enter Valentine and Proteus. ‘ 2 CEASE to pers! de, my loving Proteus ; Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits: = ‘ ] Wer’t not, affection ch Ss tiny tender days To the sweet ¢ inces of thy | nour’d love, ] rather would f \ n \ To see the wonders of the world abi vad, Than living dully sluggardiz’d at home, Wear out thy vouth with shapeless idleness. But. since thou lov’ st. { still, and thrive therein, Even as I would, when I to love begin. Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, i aqaieu. Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply , Seest some rare note-W Wish me partaker in thy happiness, ; i . | ; | ‘ae oe id thy dan- When thou dost meet g00d Dap, an y in . ; thy object in thy travel: iV Ot rer, If ever er do environ thee, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, ] LaneyBY TWO GENTLEMEN Act d. For | will be thy beads-man, Valentine. Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. Pro. Upon some book | love, I'll pray for thee. Val. That’s on some shallow story of deep love, | How young Leander cross’d the Hellespont. Pro. That’s a deep story ofa deeper love. For he was more than over shoes in love. Val. "Tis true; for you are over boots in love, And yet you never swam the Hellespont. Pro. Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots. ! : Val. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not. Pro. What? Val. To be In love, where scorn is bought with groans; coy i | looks, Hi With heart-sore sighs; one fading moment’s mirth, With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain ; Ma If lost, why then a grievous labour won; if However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished. 1 Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. i Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll Ti prove. Lia Pro. ’Tis love you cavil at; I am not Love. fy Val. Love is your master, for he masters you: Bi And he that is so yoked by a fool, tHE | Methinks should not be chronicled for wise. : 4 Pro. Yet writers say, Asin the sweetest bud | 14 The eatine canker dwells, so eating love . i Inhabits in the finest wits of all. HL | Val. And writers say, As the most forward bud Ba | Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, | Lb Even so by love the young and tender wit Hi Is turn’d to folly ; blasting in the bud, HE | Losing his verdure even in the prime, } Hees ich ih (1) A humorous punishment at harvest-home He feastS, &c,And all the fair effects « But wherefore wa That art a votary to fon Once more adi u: my Expects my coming, the Pro. And thither wi Val. Sweet Proteus, leave. At Milan, let me hea: Of thy success in love, Betideth here And I likewise will vis Pro All hay Less Val. As mu \ War with goo 1 ¢ Made wit with mus thought. Speed. Sir Py teus, master! Pro. But now he Milan. And I have p iy’d Pro. Indeed 1 snee} ; An if the she pherd be ai Speed. \ ou Core herd then, ar Pro. [ d , Speed. Why the my [ wake O! sl Scene I. OF VERONA. Pro. A silly answ el yf future hopes até | um to counsel thee, ; ; — ? ua uu Shi } father at the road ‘ Oo see me shipp’d. Valentine no: now let us take our Dring tee = , at news ¢€ lse ; 1 ce of thy triena, ef wit 1 mine, e to thee in Malan al ne ! and so, fare well. Eexit Valentine nts, I after love: y them more 3; is, and all for tove. tamory] os’d me ; lose my time, set the world at noughu ;, heart sick with save you: saw you m) d hence, to embark fo. then, he is shipp’d alre ady , sheep, in losing him. y often stray, iwhile away. that my master Is a shep id Ia sheep? horns are his horns, whether 1) r. and fitting well a sheep. ’1 Hh 1 ae | 1 Ret 90 TWO GENTLEMEN Act . Speed. This proves me still a sheep. Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance Pro. It shall gohard, but [II prove it by another, Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore, I am no sheep. Pro. The she ep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for tood follows not the sheep ; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wa- ves follows not thee: there fore, thou art a sheep. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa. Pro. But dost thou hear? gav’st thou my letter to Julia? Speed. Ay, sir: t. a lost mutton, f@ave your let- ter to her, a laced mutton ;! and she, a laced mut- ton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour, Pro. Here’s too small a pasture for such a store of muttons. Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her. : Pro. Nay, in that you are astray ; ’twere best pound you. Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your letter. Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pin- fold. Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over, "Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover. : Pro. But what said she? did she nod? [Speec nods. Speed. I. Pro. Nod, I? why, that’s noddy.? (1) A term for a courtezan. (2) A game at cards.Scene I. OF VERONA. gt Speed. You mistook, sir; 1 say, she did nod: and you ask me, if she did nod; and | say, I. Pro. And that set torether, is—noddy. Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains. Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter. Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear with you. Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very ord rly; having nothing Dut the word, nD vd ly, for my pains. Pro. Beshrew! me, but you have a quick wit. Spes / And ye t it Cannot ove rtake your slow Pro. Come, come, open the matter in briet: Speed. (ne n your purse, that the money, and the matte may | Doin at once delivered. Pro. Well, sir, here ts for your pains : what said Sneed. Truly. sir, I think you’ll hardly win her. ae 2 Pro. Why? could’st thou perceive so much from her Speed. ST's | ( muld perce ive nothing at all from her: no, not so much as a ducat for delivering vour letter: and being so hard to me that brought your min | fear, she’ll prove as hard to you in tel inc her mind. Give her no token but stones ; ; } —— rd as steel for she 5 as pD Pro. W hat, said she nothing’! Speed. No, not so much as—take this for thy 7 pains. ['o testify your bounty, [ thank you, you have testern’d2 me; in requital whereol, hence- ; : : forth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, Pil commend you tomy master. Pro. Go, oO, be rone, to save your ship from wrec x: (1) Ill betide. (2) Given me a sixpence.§2 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I, Which cannot perish, having thee a board, Being destin’d to a drier death on shore ¢ — 1 must go send some better messenger [ fear, my Julia would not dei ign my iad Paceivi ing them from such a worthless post. [ Exeunt. SCENE JI.—The same. Gurden of Julia’s house. Enter Julia and Lucetta. Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Would’st eh, ‘hi n counsel me to fall in leona Luc. Ay, madam: so you stumble not unheed- fully. Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, That eve ry day with parle! encounter me, In thy opinion, which is worthiest love ? Lic. Ple “ase you, repeat their names, I’ll show my mind According to my shallow simple skill. Jul. What think’st thou of ins fair Sir Eelamour? Luc. As of aknicht we ll-spoken, ni at and fine ; But, were | you, he never should be mine. Jul What think’st thou of the rich een Luc. Well of his wea lth ; but of hims« If, sO Jul. What think’st thou of the frentle P nat us : Luc. Lord, lord! to see what folly re igns in us Jul. How now ! what means this passion at ie name Luc. Pardon, dear madam; ’tis a passing shame, That I, unworthy body as I am, Should censure? thus on love ly gentlemen. Jul. W hy not on Proteus, as of all the rest ? Luc. Then thus, of many good I think him best. : Jul. Your reason ? Lac. I have no other but a woman’s reason ; (i) Talk. (2) Pass sentence.Scene IT. OF VERONA. 93 —_— think him so, because I think him so. Jul. And would’st thou have me cast my love on him f fuc. Ay,if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. Why. he of all th rest hath never mov’d me. Tuc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best loves ve. Jul. His little speaking shows his love but small. Luce. Fire, t il 1S sest kept, | irns most of all. Jul. The y do not love, that do not show their love. Luc. QO, they love least, that let men know their Jul. I would, I knew his mind. Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. Jul. To J l Say, from whomy:r Luc. (‘hat the contents will show. Jul. Say. Say ;: wl » 2 ve it thee \ ; ; ; <7 Luc. Sir Valentine’s page; and sent, I think, - | fy rr 3 He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, Did in your name r eive it; pardon the fault, I Jul. Ni ih Dy my me lesty, a roodly broker !1 Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper and conspire L1nst Mm} youth? Now, trust me, ’tis an office of great worth, And you an fhicer fit for th nlace. There, take the paper, see it be return’d; Or else return no more into my sight. Tuc. To plead hate. Jul. Will you be gone? Lue. ; That you may ruminate. Exit. Jul. And vel, [ would I h id oe rlook’d the letter. It were a shame to call her back again, And pray nero a fault for which I ¢ hid her. What fool is she, that knows I am a maid, I } i ve aeserves more fee than j And would not force the letter to my view? (1) A mate hmaker.94 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I. Since maids, in modesty, say JVo, to that Which they would have the proflerer construe, Ay. Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love, That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, When willingly I would have had her here ! How angrily | taught my brow to frown, When inward joy enfore’d my heart to smile! My penance is, to call Lucetta back, And ask remission for my folly past :— What ho! Lucetta! Re-enter Lucetta. Luc. What would your ladyship? Jul. Is it near dinner-time ? Luc. I would it were; That you might kill your stomach! on your meat, And not upon your maid. Jul. What is’t you took up So gingerly ? Luce. Nothing. Jul. Why did’st thou stoop then? Tuc. To take a paper up that I let fall Jul. And is that paper nothing ? Luce. Nothing concerning me. Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Unless it have a false interpreter. Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme, Luc. That I might sing: it, madam, to a tune: Give Ine a note: your ladyship Can set— Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible Best sing it to the tune of Light o’ love. Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. Jul. Heavy? belike it hath some burden then. Luc. Ay ; and melodious were it, would you sing it. (1) Passion or obstinacy.Scene IT. OF VERONA. a5 Jul. And why not you? Luc. [ cannot reach 80 hich Jul. Let’s ses your song :—How now, minion . Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. Jul. You do not? Luce. No, m adam; itis too sharp. Jul. You, minion e too saucy. Luc. Nay. n Ww you are too flat, And mar the concord with too harsh a descant :! There wanteth but a mean? to fill your sone’, ‘The mean is drow th your unruly base. Tuc. Indeed, I bid the base? for Proteus. . This ba i1| not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil4 with protestation !~— Tears the letter Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie: You would be Dngeerin them, to anver me. uc. She makes it strange; but she would be neer’d with another letter. Exit. Jul. Nay, w 1] were so anger’d with the same O hateful hands, to tears ni vine words ! — 4 f Injurious wasps! to feed on such sweet honey, And kill the bees that yield it, with your stings ! [Pl] kiss « ich seve! De LO} amends. And here is writ—/ind Julia ;—unkind Julia! As in revenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy nam inst the bruising’ stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. Look, he re is VTi 1C-ILOW] ded Proteus :-— Poor wounded nal my t som, aS a bed, Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thoroughly he ad d . And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. But twice. or thrice, was Proteus written down? Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away, A term in music. 2) The te nor 1p muSsIG A challenge. (4) Bustle, stir.96 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I. Till I have found each letter in the letter, Except mine own name ; that some whirlwind beat Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, And throw it thence into the raging sea! Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,— Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia ;—that I'll tear away ; And yet I will not, sith! so prettily He couples it to his complaining names: Thus will I fold them one upon another ; Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. Re-enter Lucetta. Luc. Madam, dinner’s ready, and your father Stays. Jul. Well, let us go. Luc. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here ? Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up. Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down: Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. Jul. I see, you have a month’s mind to them. Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you SCC ¢ : : : [ see things too, although you judge I wink. Jul. Come, come, will’t please you go ? [Exeunt. SCENE JII.—The same. A room.n Antonio’s house. Enter Antonio and Panthino. Ant ‘Tell me, Panthino, what sad? talk was that, Wherewith my brother held you m the cloister? Pan. *Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. Ant. Why, what of him? Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship W ould suffer him to spend his youth at home; While other men, of slender reputation,’ (1) Since. (2) Serious. (3) Little consequenceScene LIT. OF VERONA. Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there ; Some, to discove slands fay away j Sx me, to the studious universiti¢ g. For any, or for all these exercises, He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet; And did re quest me, to 1M} lune you, To let him spend his time no mor at home, Whi h would be creat impeat hment! to his age, In havine known no travel tn his youth. Ant. Nor need’st thou much importune me tc Whereon this month I hav: en hammering. I have consider’d well his loss of time; And how he cannot be a ] ect man, Not being try’d and tutor’d in the world: Experience is by indust ichiev’d, And pe rfected the sw course of time: Then, t | me. whither were | best to send him? Pant. | think, youn How his companion, youthful Valentine, Attends the empe in his royal court. Ant. Lknow it we Pant. *Twer 1, I think, your lordship sen{ hip is not ignorant, There shall he practisé tilts and tournaments, Hi ir sweel disc rse, ¢ nverst with noblemen; And be in eye of every exercise, Worthy his j u h and n eness ol birth. ay Ant. I like thv « unsel: well l:ast thou advis’d And. that thou may’st p rceive how well I like it, The execution of it shall make known ; Even with the speediest execution : 5 to the emperor’s court. I will despatch him to Pant. ‘To-morrow, may it please you, Don Ak phonso, With other gentlemen of g od esteem, Are journeying to salute the emperor, (1) Reproach.98 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I And to commend their service to his will. Ant. Good company ; with them shall Proteus go And, in good time,—now will we break with him. Enter Proteus. Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn : QO, that our fathers would applaud our loves, To seal our happiness with their consents! O heavenly Julia! Ant. How now? what letter are you reading there? Pro. May’t please your lordship, ’tis a word or two Of commendation sent from Valentine, Deliver’d by a friend that came from him. Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he writes How happily he lives, how well belov’d, And daily graced by the emperor ; Wishing me with him, partner of his fo-.ane. Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish ? Pro. As one relying oa your lordship’s will, And not depending on his friendly wish. Ant. My willis something sorted with his wish Muse? not that I thus sudd nly proceed ; For what I will, I will, and there an end. I am resoly’d, that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus in the ¢ mperor’s court ; What maintenance he from his friends receives, Like exhibition3 thou shalt have from me. To-morrow be in readiness to go: Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided ; (1) Break the matter to him. (2) Wonder. (3) Allowance.Scene I. OF VERONA. 99 } ] ; ; Please you, deliberate a day or two. Ant. Look, what thou want’st, shall be sent aftey inee : No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go.— Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ’d To hasten on his expedition. Exeunt Ant. and Pant. Pro. Thus have I shunn’d the fire, for fear of Lest he should take ex epuons to my love: And with tne vantage OI mine own excuse Hath he excepted most against m' love. Pro. Why, this itis! my heart accords thereto ; [ Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.—Milan. An apartment in. the Duke’s palace. Enter Valentine and Speed. Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. Sneed. Why then this may be yours, for this 1s i - » . "* ] Speed sir, your glove. but one. Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine :-— | : ° fo ee Swe et ornament that ce cks a thing divine . Ah Silvia! Silvia! ve... i, G100 TWO GENTLEMEN Act Il Speed. Madam Sily ia! madam Silvia! Val: How now, sirrah! Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her? Speed. Your worship, sir; or ¢ lse I mistook. Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam Silvia? Speed. She that your worship loves ? Val. Why, how know you that I am in love ? Speed. Man ry, by these spec ial marks : First, you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath yourarms like a male-content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red-breast : to walk alone, like one that hadthe pr stilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A. B. C.; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes diet :! to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a bevear at Hallowmas.? You were wont, when you lauch’d, to crow like a cock ; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when yon looked sadly, it was for want of money: and . now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master. ; : Val. Are all these things perceived in me? Speed. They are all perceived without you. Val. Without me ? ‘They cannot. ; Speed. Without you? nay, that’s certain, for, without you were sO simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in a urinal; that not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to comment on your malady. Val. But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? (1) Under a regimen. (2) Allhallowmas.™~ mR j and yet know’st her Speed I< S! Val. Not so { : Speed. You neve formed. Val. How lone } q, st Speed. Ever sin } al. | ha ( ¥ | “7 . ; | ser | r De ! sty } ; peed. if + f al, Why Speed. Be ( LISé i mine eyes: or } i S j wont to have, when j Ing’ unfartere Val. What should Speed. Your ow! di formity: for he, be earter his hose; and to put on your hose Val. Belike, boy, t morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. 101 you gaze on so, as she sits ag . 7 5 rv’d that? even she I mean. [ kne v he not, a ny gazing on her, a tae ee Qd-favour' da, sir’ , as well favoured. it well enouch. IS mm ) Talr, as (of you) well os a ts a : ner beauty is exquisite, but iuse the one Is painted, and w out « f count ? so painted, to make hex fair, st thou me? I account of her saw her since she was de- th she en deformed ? ever since I saw her, and ner. you cannot see her. love 1s blind QO, that you had n { ( Ornts the Y Were u chid at Sir Proteus for go- r +} Ae I s len resent folly, and her passing Ing’ in love, could not see to ] you, being in love, cannot see hen you arein love: for last ST SN REE ay NB ct{02 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IT. Speed. True, sir ; I was in love with my bed: I thank vou, you swinged! me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you for yours. Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Speed. I would you were set; so, your affection would cease. Val. Last nizht she enjoined me to write some lines to one she loves. : Speed. And have you? Val. I have. Speed. Are they not lamely writ? Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :— Peace, here she comes. Enter Silvia. Speed. O excellent motion '2 O exceeding pup- het! now will he interpret to her. Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrow s. Speed. O, ’give you eood even! here’s a million of manners. [ Aside. Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thou- sand. Speed. He should ‘give her interest; and she gives it him. Val. As you enjoin’d me, I have writ your letter, Unto the set ret namek ss frie nd of yours ; Which [I was much unwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your ladyship. Sil. I thank you, eentle servant: ’tis very clerkly? done. Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; For. being ignorant to whem it goes, I writ at random, very doubtfully. Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains: (1) Whipped. (2) A puppet-show \ (3) Like a scholar.Scene I. OF VERONA. 103 Val. No, madam; soit stead you, I will write, Pleass you command, a thousand times as much - ou. A pre tty pe riod ! Well, cuess thie se quel And yet iy it name it —and yet | care not ;- Ard yet take t IS afain ;:—and vet | thank you; Meanin nencelfortn to tre : ble you no more. speed. And yet you will: and yel another yet. Aside Val. What means your ladyship ? do you not Sul. Yes, yes; the lines ar very quaintly writ. > | | ++ ¢ mtr . But since unwillingly. tak them avain: } al. Vac im, they art for you. 2 Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request : But | Wi n { i tnem ney are for you: more moy inely, Va lease ju, Ill write your ladyship another. I S:l. And, when it’s writ, for my sake read it over: And, if it she LSé you, SO: if not, why, so. al. If it please me, madam! what then ? ke it for your labour; Exit Silvia. Speed. O jest unseen. inscrutable : invisible, As a nose on am in’s lace, Or a we athe root k ona My master sues to her: and she hath taucht her He being her pupil, to become her tutor. ’ : 7 : O excellent device! was there ever heard a better? \ 4 * i< That my master, Deine scribe, to himself should Val. How now, sir? what are you reason’ng with yourself Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: ’tis you that have the re ison. Val. ‘To do what? Speed. ‘To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. Val To whom? ea enpecnener nae = =104 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II. Speed. To yourself: why, she woos you by a firure. Val. What ficure ? Speed. By a letter, I should say. Val. Why, she hath not writ to me. Speed. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest P Val. No, believe me. Speed. No believing you indeed, sir: but did you pr rceive her earnest ’ Val. She gave me none, except an angry word. Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. Val. That’s the letter I writ to her friend. Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end.! Val. I would, it were no worse. Speed. Vll warrant you, *tis as well. For often you have writ to her; and she, in modesty, Or else Jor want of idle tame, could not again reply, Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.— All this I speak in print; for in print I found it.— Why muse you, sir? *tis dinner-time. Val. 1 have dined. Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the came- leon, Love, can feed on the air, | am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be moved. | Exeunt (1) There’s the conclusion.Scene I], ITT. OF VERONA. 105 SCENE II.—Verona. A room in Julia’s house Enter Proteus and Julia. Pro. Have patience, rentle Julia. Jul. I must. wher is no remedy. Pro. When | ssibly I can, I will return. Jul. If » you will return the sooner : Kee p this remembrance for thy Julia’s sake. u turn not Giving a ring. Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; he re, Jul. And seal the bareain with a holy kiss. Pro. Here is my hand tor my true constancy ; And when that hour o’er-slips me in the day, Wherein | sign not, Julia. tor thy sake, a The next ensuing hour some foul misc hance Torment me for my love's foreetfulness ! My lather stays n ' coming; answer not: The tide is now nay, not the tide of tears ; That tide will stay m mger than I should: ; | Hatt Julia. Julia, farewe What! gone without a word ? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak ; F or truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it. Finter Panthino. Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. Pro. Go: I come, i come :— Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. Exeunt. SCENE JII.—The same. A street. Enter Launce, lead ne” a dog. Laun. Nay, ’twill be this hour ere I have done weeping : all the kind! of the Launces have this very fault: I have received my proportion, like the ; Kindred.i ; } } { ‘ t 106 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I. prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial’s court. I think, Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howl- ing, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble- stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting ; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, Pll show you the manner of it: This shoe is my father ;—no, this left shoe is my father ;—no, no, this left shoe is my mother: nay, that cannot be so neither _—yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole : this shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father: a venzeance on’t! there ’tis : now, sir, this staff is my sister ; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand: this hatis Nan, our maid; | am the doz:—no, the doz is himself, and I am the dor.—O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your bless- ing; now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping ; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on :—now come I tomy mother, (QO, that she could speak now!) like a wood! woman ;—well, I kiss her :—why there ’tis ; here’s my mother’s breath up and down : now come I to my sister; mark the Inoan she makes: now the doe all this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word ; but see how I| lay the dust with my tears. Enter Panthino. Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard; thy master is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars. What’s the matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. (1) Crazy, distracted.Scene IV OF VERONA. 107 Laun. It is no matter if the ty’d were iost: forit 1S the unkindest ty’d that evel any man ty’d. Pan. Wh it’s the unkindest tid é ; Laun. Why, he that’s ty’d here; Crab, my doe. Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou’lt lose the flood : and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyare: and, in losing’ u! y yvoya e, 105e \ m ste rs, ab l, in losing thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy ser- vice,—Why qaost thou stop my mouths: : Laun. For fear thou should’st lose thy tongue. Pan. Where should I lose 1ny tongue © : Laun In Uy talc. : Pan. In thy tail ? Laun. Lose the tide, and the voy master, and t! le! the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears ; if the wind were down, | could drive the boat with ve, and the -why, man, if my signs Pan. Come, come aw Ly, Man ; [ was sent to call thee. Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. Pan. Wilt thou eo? Laun. Well, I will go. SCENE IV.—Milan. An apartment in the Duke’s palace. Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thu- rio, and Sper d. [| Exeunt. Sil. Servant— Val. Mistress? Speed. VI ister, OU Thurio frowns on you, Val. Av, boy, it’s for love. Speed. Not of you. Val. Of my mistress then. Speed. *T were good, you knos ked him, Sil. Servant, you are s id.! Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. Thu. Seem you that you are not? Val. Haply,? I do. (1) Serious. (2) Perhaps.108 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IT, Thu. So do counterfeits. Vai. So do you. Thu. What seem I, that I am not? Val. Wise. Thu. What instance of the contrary ? Vul. Your folly. Thu. And how quote! you my folly ? Val. I quote it in your je rkin. Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. Val. Well, then, Pll double your folly. Thu. How P Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour P Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon. Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air. Val. You have said, sir. Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. Val. I know it well, sir ; you always end ere you begin. Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quick- ly shot off. Val. *Tis indeed, madam; we thank the oiver, Sil. Who is that, servant ? Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire : Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship’s looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your company. Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. Val. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give rt your followers ; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your | are words. Szl. No more, gentlemen, no more; nere comes my father. (1) Observe,Scene IV. OF VERONA. 109 Enter Duke. Duke. Now, dauchter Sils la, you are hard beset, Sir Valentine. your father’s in “ood health: What say you toa letter from your friends Of much good news? Val. My lord, I will be.thankful hanrnt lo any lappy messeneer from thence, Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your country- Val Ay, my good lord, I know the centleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well re pute d. Duke. Hath he not a son? Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well de- The hon ur and r oa} 1 of such a father. Duke. You know him well ? Val. I knew him as myself: for from our in- We have convers’d, and spent our hours together - And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet bens fit of time, To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection , Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that’s his name, Madi use and fair advantage of his days: His head unmellow’d, but his judgment ripe ; And, in a word (for far behind his worth Come all the praises that I now bestow,) He is complete in feature, and tn mind, With all good grace to grace a gentleman. Duke. Beshrew! me, sir, but, if he make this x00d 2 OOC ¢ His years Dul young, but his experience old: ’ ‘ . 5 He is as worthy for an empress’ love, As meet to be an emperor’s counsellor. Vell, sir: this ~entleman is come to me, With commendation from great potentates ; And here he means to spend his time awhile: (1) Il! betide.110 TWO GENTLEMEN Act ii. I think, ’tis no unwelcome news to you. Val. Should I have wish’d a thing, it had been bier | he. | byl t Duke. Welcome him then according to his Bie | worth ; Silvia, I speak to you; and you, Sir Thurio :— For Valentine, | need not cite! him to it: ’ll send him hither to you presently. [Hazt Duke. Val. Thisis the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come alone with me, but that his mistress | Did hold his eyes lock’d in her « ry stal looks. Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis’d f them Upon some other pawn for fealty. Val. Nay, sure, | think, she holds them prison- ers still. Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind, | Ei How could he see his way to seek out you? HEP Ee Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Li Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. pearl Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; i ber Upon a homely object love can wink. qi Enter Proteus. \ he | Ht | Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the bh c¢entleman. eee Val. Welcome, dear Proteus !—Mistress, I be- : ith : : seech you, : Hee Confirm his welcome with some special favour. | A Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, eae If this be he you oft have wish’d to hear from. 1 Val. Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant To have a look of such a worthy mistress. Val. Leave off discourse of disability — (1) Incite.Scene IV. OF VERONA. Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. Pro. Vly duty vill I boast of. nothing else. Servant, you are wel Pro. I'll die on him t Sil. ‘That you are welcome? Enter Servant. f os Sz. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant. Come, Sn Thurio, re, new servant, welcome : | leave you to confer of home-affairs : ' Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. E’xeunt Silvia, Thurio, and Speed. iow do all from whence you Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much = ; . Val. And now dao yours Pro. | Pro. My tales of love-were wont to weary you ; { know, you joy not in a love-discourse. Fal. ALY, Prote us, Dut that life is alte rd now : } : ] ‘ . ih ive done penance tor contemnin® love; W hose high impr rious thouchts have punish’d me , . ee With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and d uly heart-sore sighs ; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chas’d sleep from my enthralled eyes, . . % E ,. : And made them watchers of mine own heart’s sore row. O, gentle Proteus, love’s a mighty lord ; And hath so humbled me, as, I contess, And duty never yet did want his mex d:; ome to a worthless mistress hat says so, but yourself. No; that you are worthless, im, my lord your father would speak len you Nave done, we look to hear from you. eft them all in health. Val. How dos s your lady ? and how thrives your‘ i ; { | 112 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I There is no wo to his correction, Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth ! Now, no discourse, except it be of love ; Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, Upon the very naked name of love. Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye Was this the idol that you worship so ? Val. Even she ; andis she not a heavenly saint ? Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon. Val. Call her divine. Pro. I will not flatter her. Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills ; And I must minister the like to you. Val. Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. Pro. Except my mistress. Fal. Sweet, except not any ; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Val. And [ will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honour,— To bear my lady’s train: lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so wreat a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlasting. Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all 1 can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing ; She is alone. Q Pro. Then let her alone. Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine Own 5 And [ as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,Scene IV. OF VERONA. Because thou seest me dote upon my love. My toolish rival, that her father likes Only ior his DOSS@SSIONS are SO huge, ? Is gone with her alone: and I must after, For love, thou know "at. is full of jealousy. Pro. But she loves you? ‘ Fal. \y, and we are betroth’d; Nay, more, our marriag’e hour With all the cunning manner of our flight, Determin’d of : how I must climb her window ; + The ladder made of cords: and all the means Plotted ; and’ ppiness., | a | } Good Protet Ss, £0 WILD Me lo my ¢ rambe ry ' for my ha In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. ’ro. Goon before: | shall inquire you forth: | must unto the r¢ id, tO GIS ml ark e necessaries that I needs must use ; Sie [ “ i : | [Eait Val Or as one nail by streneth drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object gq € for~otten. Is it mine eye, Or V alentinus’ praise, Her true yertection, or my false transgression, ‘That makes me, reasonte ss. to reason thus ? She’s fan ima sos Ju a. tnat | love :— That I did love, for now my lov: is thaw "ds Which, like a waxen image ’gainst a fire , Bears no impression of the thing it was. Mi thinks, my zeal to Valentine 1s cold; And that I love him not, as I was wont: O! but I love his | too, too much; And that’s the reason I love him so little. How shall [ dote on her with more advice,! That thus without ac vice begin to love her! iu "Tis but ber picture I have yet beheld, (1) On further knowledge.114 TWO GENTLEMEN Act If, And that hath dazzled my reason’s light ; But when I look on her perfections, There is no reason but I shall be blind. If I can check my erring love, I will; If not, to compass her [Il use my skill. (Exit. SCENE V.—The same. A street. Enter Speed and Launce. Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan. Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always—that a man is never undone, till he be hanged ; nor never wel- come to a place, tillsome certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome. Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale- house with you presently ; where for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia. Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest. Speed. But shall she marry him? Laun. No. Speed. How then? shall he marry her? Laun. No, neither. Speed. What, are they broken ? Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them? Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her. Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not. Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My staff understands me. Speed. What thou say’st ? Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me.Scene VI. OF VERONA. Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one. Speed. But tell me true, will’t be a match ? Laun. Ask my dog: if he say, ay,it will; if he Ba ¢ . « a ; ] fa* « oY say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say no- Speed. ‘The conclusion is then, that it will. Lit never fet suc h a secret from Speed. "Tis well that I get itso. But, Launce, how say’st thou, that my master is become a nota- aun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me. TLaun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master. Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the ale-house, so: if not, thou art a Hebrew, a Jew, not worth the name of a Christian. ] i g Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee. as to go to the ale-house with a Christian: Sneed. At thy service. [ Exeunt, SCENE VI.—The same. An apartment in the nalace. Enter Proteus. Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn 3 To wrong my friend, I shati pe much forsworn ; And even ft} ft DOW EI, which grave me first my oath, Pr wokes nie to this thre efold perjury. Vor. i116 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II Love bade me swear, and | ove bids me forswear. O sweet-suggesting! love, if thou hast sinn’d, Teach me, thy tempted bj ect, to excuse it. At first | did adore a twinkling star, But now I worship a celesti: al sun. Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; And he wants wit, that wants resolved will To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.— Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad, Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast pre ferr "d With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. I cannot leave to love, and yet I do; But there I leave to love: where I should love. Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose ; If I keep them, I needs must lose myself ; [f I lose them, thus find I by their loss, For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia. I to myself am dearer than a friend ; For love is still more precious in itse lf = And Silvia, witness heave n, that made her fair! Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. I will foreet that Julia is alive, Rememb’ ring that my ioe to her is dead ; And Valentine I’ll hold an enemy, Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. I cannot now prove constant to myself, Without some treachery used to Valentine :— This night he meaneth with a corded ladder To climb celestial Silvia’s chamber-window ; Myself in counsel, his competitor :? Now presently I’ll give her father notice Of their discuising, and pretended? flicht : Who, all enrag’d, will banish Valentine ; For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross, By some sly trick, blunt Thurio’s dull proceeding. Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, As thou bast lent me wit to plot this drift ! [ Exit. L (1) Tempting. (2) Confederate. (3) Intended.Scene VIT. OF VERONA. 117 in Julia’s SCENE VII—Verona. A room j Enter Julia and Lucetta. / ft Jul. Counsel, Lucetta: gentle girl, assist me And, even in kind | ve, Id iO conyure thee, — Who art the table wher: in all m\ thoughts Are visibly character’d ind encray’d, To le sson me: and t it me some 200d mean, How, with my hon ir, | may undertake A journ y to my | vine Prot Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long. Jul. A true-devoted pilerim is not weary To measure kinedoms wv feeb] ns With Dis feeble steps: i Much less shall she, that hath love’s wings to fly ; And when th f flier} tis made to one so dear Of such divine perfection. as Si) Proteus. Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Jul. O, know’st tl yu not, h ? E t his looks are my soul’s f } Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By long neg fi r that food si long a time. Didst thou but know the inlvy tov h of love, ry 139 . 1) . ; Phou would’st as soon go kindle fire with snow, As seek to quench the hre of love with words. } ] | 5 . Luce. Ido not seek to quen n your love’s hot fire ; > es ' c . a & But qualify ine hre’s extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Jul. The more thou dam’st! it up, the more it The current, that with gentle murmur elides, Thou know’st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rave ; But, when his fair course is not hindered, Iie makes sweet music with the enamell’d stones, Giving a gentle kiss to eve ry se dre He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays, (1) Closest.Act IT. 118 TWO GENTLEMEN With willing sport, to the wild ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course + I’ll be as patient as a centle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my love 3 And there [ll rest, as, after much turmoil,! A blessed soul doth in Elysium. Luc. But in what habit will you go along? Jul. Not like a woman; for I would prevent The loose encounters of lascivious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page. Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your hair. Jul. No, girl; Pl knit it up in silken strings, With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : To be fantastic may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your bre e¢ hes? Jul. That fits as well, as—‘ tell me, good my lord, What compass will you wear your farthingale ?? Why, even that fashion thou best lik’st, Lucetta. Luc. You must needs have them with a cod- piece, madam. Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour’d. Luc. A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin, : Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on. Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov’st me, let me have What thou think’st meet, and is most mannerly : But tell me, wench, how w ill the world repute me, For unde rtaking’ SO unstaid a journey ° I fear me, it will make me scandaliz’d. Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. Jul. Nay , that I will not. (1) Trouble.Scene VIT. OF VERONA. 119 Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but 2°. If Proteus like your journe y, when you come, No matter who's displeas’d, when you are wone: [ fear me, he will scarce be pleas’d withal. Jul. That is the least. Lucetta, of my fear: A thousand oaths. an oc an of his tears, And instances as infinite of love, Warrant me welcome Luc. All these are to my Proteus. servants to dex eitful men. Jul. Bas men, that use them to so base effect ! But truer stars did govern Prot us’ birth ; His words ire bonds, h vaths are oracles ; His love sincere, nis thoughts immacula His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart: His he art as far from frat d, as he iven from earth. \ prove so, whe n you come e: 5 — A, % v’st me, do him not that To bear a hard opinion if his truth: Only deserve my lov: by loving him; And presently go with me t my chamber, lo take i note of what I stand n need of, To furnish me upon my one ing journey. All that is mine I leavi at thy dispose, My goods, my lands, my reputation: Only in lieu th reof, despatch me hence: Come, answer not, Dut to if pre sently I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt. — AUTi 1iL SCENE [.—Milan. Ananti-room in the Duke’s palace. Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, | pray, awhile; Longs d for.120 TWO GENTLEMEN Act HT. We have some secrets to confer about. (Eait Thunio. Now, tell me, Proteus, what’s your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which | would dis- cover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal : But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am, My duty pricks me on to utter that Which else no worldly good should draw from me Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, This nizht intends to steal away your daughter ; Myself am one made privy to the plot. I know, you have di termin’d to bestow her On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ; And should she thus be stolen away from you, It would be much vexation to your age. Thus, for my duty’s sake, I rather chose To cross my fri nd in his intended drift, Than, by conce aling it, heap on your head A pack of sorrows, which would press you down, Being unprev: nted, to your timeless grave. Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care ; Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep ; And oftentimes have purpos’d to forbid Sir Valentine her company, and my court: But, fearing lest my jealous aim! might err, And so, unworthily, disgrace the man (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn’d,) I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclos’d to me. And, that thou may’st perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,? Ll nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be convey’d away. (1) Guess. (2) Tempted.Scene J. OF VERONA. iZs ~ Pro. Know. nobl. lord, they have cd vis'd a Mnean How he ner ch 1 De r-wind Vv will ascend, And with a corded ladder fetch her down; For which the vouthfy lover now is gone, no ft } ur ‘ : ‘ ] And this way comes he With it presently ; Wh i i ] ‘ i here. se yon, you may intercept him But, ¢ dd | ; ra, aor so cunninely, That rh} aus ,ery De LIOt almed! ar: be eyy | f hate unto my friend, t} pretence.? Line onour, he shall neve r know ty 1 thee of this. sir Vale ntine is coming. Exit. Enter Valentine. Duke. Sir Valentine. whith r away so fast? ( your grace, there is a messenger iters to my trie nds, ‘he tenor of them doth but sienify n= at your court. | _— — * stay with me I am to break with thee of si me affair That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. ”Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my dauchter. Val. I know it well my lord; and, sure, the match Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle- man Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseemine such a wife as your fair dauchter: Cannot your ace win ner to fancy him? Oo ‘1) Guessed. (2) Design.122 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III. 2 Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, fro- wi aya. Proud, disobe die nt, stubborn, lacking duty ; Neither regarding th it she is my child, Nor fearing me as if I were her father ; And, may | say to thee, this pride of hers Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her ; And, where I thoug rht the remnant of mine age Should have been cheris sh’d by her child- like duty, I] now am aus esolved to take a wife, And turn her out to who w ill take her in: Then let her ts auty be her we dding-dower 3 For me and my possessions she esteems not. Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my age d eloquence : Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor (For long agwone I have forezot to court : Besides, the fashion of the time 1s chang’d;) How, and which way, I may bestow m) self, 'To be rezarded in her sun- bri: oht eye. Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not w ords; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than qu Lic : words, do move a woman’s mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that 1 sent her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con- tents her. Send her another; never give her o’er; For scorn at first makes after-love the more. If she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you: If she do chide, ’tis not to ek you rone 3 For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. l'ake no repulse, whatever ae doth say 3 For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their gra os;scene I. OF VERONA. 123 Though ne’er so black. sav. 4] fi; a st . ” 30 la K, say, they have ang ls’ faces, al fall Wat Natn 1 ton2ue, l say, 1S nO Man, li with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Duke. But She, [ mean, is promis’d by her Iriencs : ] [ nto a yo thal rentieman of worth ; | ; And kept sever y trom resort of men, Phat no n in Nath a cess by day to he Pr; Kal. Why then I would resort to her by ment Duke. AY, Dut the doors be loc k’d, and keys KEDL Sale : m™ , , That no man hath recourse to her by nicht. » } ‘ , . . Val. What lets,! but on may enter at her win- dow? ol A ce waa ee Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground ; And Dullt s sneivineg Nat one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard if his life, Val. Why then, a ladder, quaint, made ot To cast UD WILN a Dalr ef anchoring hooks, Would serve to scale another Hero’s ti wer, so bold Li inder wv d icy nture } Duke. N Ww, as thou art 1 gentleman of blood, Advis me where l may ! such a ladde | Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me ++ il. ‘ i Duke. This very nicht: for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by. Val. | sucha lad Duke. But, hark thee : I will go to her alone; How shall I best nvey the ladder thithe re Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may ee aes J 3 Under a cloak, that is of any leneth. Duke. A cl ak as lone as thine will serve the turns Val. Ay, my good lord. (1) Hinders.124 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II Duke. Then let me see thy cloak : I’ll get me one of such another length. Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?— I pray thee, let me fee] thy cloak upon me. What letter is this same? What’s here—7Z'o Silvia? And here an engine fit for my proceeding! Pll be so bold to break the seal for once. (reads. My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly ; And slav es the y are to me, that send them flying O, could their master come and go as lightly, Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying. My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, While I, their king, that thither themimportune, Do curse the ae that with such grace hath bless’d then Because myself do aia my servants’ fortune: TI curse wianlhae they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their lord should “be. What’s here ? Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee: ’Tis so: and here’s the ladder for the eae Why, Phaéton (for thou art Merops’ son, Wilt thou aspire to guide the heave nly car, And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Go, base intruder! over-weening slave ! Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ; And tae my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence : Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Which, all too much, I have bestow’d on thee. But if thou linger in my territories, Longer than swiftest ex} pedition Will give thee time to ie ave our royal court,OF VERONA. 125 By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love I ever bor my dauchier, or thyself. Be gone, I will not hear thy vain « xcuse, B Uny life, make spe ed from ; ence, ait Duke. Val. And wil y not death, rather than living oS To die, is t banish’d from myself: And Silvia is n yself: banish’d from her, Is self from self: a de uc ly banishment ! What it 1s t, if Silvia be not seen ? VV lat y is Vy | Silvia be not by ? Unless it be to u nk that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfe tion. Except I b OY OllVia in the n ht Ione, Th eis no mus mn Une nizhtineale ; Unless | { On Silvia in the day, The re is n 1 ior me |t ok upon : she is my essence: { I leave to be, If I be uence Foster’d, illumin’d, cherish’d, kept alive. I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: Tarry | eC! os t attend on death: But, fly I hence, I fly away from life. Enter Proteus and Launce. Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Laun. So-ho! so-ho! Pro What seest thou ° Laun. Him we go to find; there’s not a hair On’s he aid. | i! "tis a \ ule ntine, Pro. \ Lientine ; Val. No. Pro. Who then? his spirit ? Val. Ne ine ie Pro. What then? Val. Nothing Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike? Pro. Whom would’st thou strike ?126 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II. Laun. Nothing. Pro. Villain, forbear. Laun. Why, sir, Vl strike nothing: I pray you,— Pro. Sirrah, | say, forbear: friend Valentine, a w ord. Val. My ears are stopp’d, and cannot hear eood news, So much of bad already hath possess’d them Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, untunable, and bad. Val. Is Silvia dead ? Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia !— Hath she forsworn me? Pro. No, Valentine. Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me !— What is your news ? Laun. Sir, there’s a proclamation that you are vanish’d. Pro. That thou art banish’d, O, that’s the news; From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. Val. O, [have fed upon this wo already, And now excess of it will make me surfeit. Doth Silvia know that I am banish’d ? Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer’d to the doom (Which, unrevers’d, stands in effectual force) A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears : Those at her father’s churlish feet she tender’d ; With them, upon her knees, her humble self ; Wringinge her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for wo: But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding: tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire ; But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die. Besides, her intercession >haf’d him so,Scene I. OF VERONA. When she for thy repeal was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of ’biding there. Val. No more; unless the next word that thou Have some malignant power upon my life : If so, [ pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, un inthem of my endl ss dolour.! Pro. Cease to lament tor that thou canst not And study heip tor that which thou lame nt’st. ‘Time is the nurse and breeder of all wood. Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; Besides, tl stayir will abridge thy life. Ho : s staff; 1 hence with that, And manage it ag st despairing thoughts. Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence VW hic n, Deng Wt | to me, shall De deliver’d Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. The lime now Sst es not to expostulate : Come, I’|\l convey thee through the city-gate ; And. ere I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concern thy love-aflairs : As thou lov’st Silvia, though not for thyself, Reeard thy danger, and along with me. Val. | pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my Bid him make haste, and meet me atthe north gate Pro. Go. sirrah, find him out. Come, Va:eutine. Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine ! Eveunt Valentine and Proteus. Laun. I am buta fool, look you; and yet [ have the wit to think, my master is a kind of knave: but that’s all one. if he be but one knave. He t knows me to be in love: yet I f horse shall not pluck am in love: buta team ol that from me: nor who’tis I love, and yet ’tis a but that woman, I will not tell myself lives not now, th women : Grief. (3) Aah t MA gig 54 072%,t \ i | { : | | i 128 TWO GENTLEMEN Act LIT, and yet ’tis a milk-maid: yet ’tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips: yet ’tis a maid, for she is hex master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel,—which is much in a bare Christian. Here is the cat-log [pulling out a paper] of herconditions. Imprimis, She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do nv more ; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only car- ry ; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item, She can milk ; look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands, Enter Speed. Speed. How now, Signior Launce? what news with your mastership ? Laun, With my master’s ship? why, it is at sea. Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the word : what news then in your paper ? Laun. The blackest news that ever thou heard’st. Speed. Why, man, how black ? Laun. Why, as black as ink. Speed. Let me read them. Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst no read. Speed. Thou liest, I can. Laun. I will try thee: tell me this: thee ? Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy gerandmother: this proves, that thou canst not read Speed. Come, fool, come: try me in thy paper Laun. There; and Saint Nicholas! be thy Spee d . é Speed. Item, She brews good ale. Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,— Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. who begot (1) St. Nicholas presided over young scholars.Scene I. OF VERONA. 129 Speed, Lte m, She Can Séiw, Laun. That’s as much as to say, Can she so? Speed, I te m, She can knit. Laun. VW iat need a man care for a stock with &@ wench, when she can knit hima sto: k ? S) eed. Item, S/ can wash and SCOUr. Laun. \ special virtue: for then she need not Speed. Item, S/he ca? spin. | set the world on wheels, when she « N spin for her living, Spee . it m, She hath m iny nameless virtues. Laun. That’s as much is to say, bastard virtmes; leed, | t their fathers, and therefore Speed. Here follow her vices. Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues, Speed. Item, » is not to be kiss’d fa sting, in TeESpe { 4 NP? réa i Laun. Well. that fault may be mended with a bre ikfast ré id Or) Speed. Ite m. She hath a saneet mouth. J. wi. ‘| Nal Makes ame ds for he : Sour breath. S) ed. Item, She doth tal} in her sleep. Lawn. It’s no matt r for that, so she sles p not in he r talk. Laun. Q villain, that set this d wn among her vices ! ‘To be slow in words, is a woman’s only vir- tue pray thee, out with’t: anc — pla e it for her chief virtue. Speed. Item, She 1s proud, Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve’s legacy, and cannot be ta’en from her. Speed. Item, She hath no teeth. Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. Speed. Item, She is curst. Laun, Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.130 TWO GENTLEMEN Act Hf. Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor. Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall : If she will not, 1 will; for good things should be praised. Speed. Item, She 2s too liberal.! Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that’s writ down she is slow of: of her purse she shail not; for that I’ll keep shut: now, of another thing she may ; and that I cannot help. Well, proceed. Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults. Laun. Stop there; I’ll have her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article : rehearse that once more. Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,— Laun. More hair than wit,—it may be; [ll prove it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for the greater hides the less. What’s next? Speed. And more faults than hairs,— Laun. That’s monstrous : O, that that were out! pet i And more wealth than faults. Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra- cious :2 well, ’ll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible,— Speed. What then ? Laun. Why, then I will tell thee,—that thy master stays for thee at the north gate. Speed. Kor me ° Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid for a better man than thee. Speed. And must [ ¢’o to him? Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. Speed. Why didst not tell me sgoner? *pox of your love-letters! [ Matt Laun. Now willhe be swinged for reading my (1) Licentious in language. (2) Graceful.Scene I. OF VERONA. 131 letter : an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- self into se¢ ets '—I’ll after, to rejoice in the boy’s correction. | Batt. palace. Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus Se- hind. SCENE II.—The same. A room inthe Duke’s Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love you, Now Valentine is banish’d from her sight. | I’hu. Since his exile she hath despis’d me most, Forsworn my company, and rail’d at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her. Duke. ‘This weak impress of love is as a ficure Trenched! in ice; which with an hour’s heat Dissolve s to water, a d doth lose his form. A little time will meit her frozen thoughts, And w rthless Val ne shall be forgot — How now, sir Proteus ls your countryman, According 1O our prot mation, gone? Duke. My daughter takes his roing grievously. Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that crief. Duke. Sol believe: but Thurio thinks not so. Proteus, the ‘ 1 conceit I hold of thee (Ko thou hast shown some sien of rood desert, ) Makes me the better to confer with thee. Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your grace, Let me not live to KK upon your grace. Duke. Thou know’st, how willingly [ would effect The matcn between sit Churio and my dauchter. Pro. I do, my lord. Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant low she opposes her a Pro. She did. my lord, when Valentine washere. Duke. AY, and perverse ly she persevers SO. What mi rainst my will. rht we do, to make the girl forget (1) Cat VOL, LL '132 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IIT. The love of Valentine, and love sir Cc P Pro. The best way is toslander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent ; Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she’ll think, that it is spoke in hate. Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend. ‘Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do: Tis an ill office for a gentleman: Especially, against his very friend. Duke. Where your eood word cannot advantage him, Your slander never can endamage him ; Therefore the office is indiflere nt, Being entreated to it by your friend. Pro. You have pre vail’d, my lord: if Lean do it, By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, She shall not long continue love to him But say, this weed her }ove from Valentine, It follows not that she will love sir Thurio. Thu. ‘Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, You must provide to bottom it on me Which must be done, by praising me as much As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine. Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind ; i Because we know, on Valentine’s report, You are already love’s firm votary, And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. Upon this warrant shall you have access. Where you witl Silvia may confer at large For she is lumy my heavy, melancholy And, for your frie nd? s sake, will be glad of you ; Where you may temper her, by your persus sion, To hate young Valentine, and love my friendll. Scene VERONA. Se we D \ ed poesy rro. 3S ea f he uty ro . ~ \ | S109 | rhea Wi i h vour tears \] 3 I 5 rit f bd line, I () . Was 5s iow” W } els SINnews Whose ¢ ch ¢ 1 soften ste nd stones \ } | ' ¥ - ~ ! 7 | mthans | ' s eps f 1 Sands After ir elevies Visit I s ] WiInaow Wit SO] if nis TY nts ‘Tun ; ’ } . ul I ‘ bie ~ a SLeCnice Wi \ . Swe com nin® Prey j Tr} Pe ‘ ‘ e UX yey hey , =< i 1 | dD | 5 . e shows tf 1 hast been in Duke. Even now about it; I will pardon you E reunt (1) Bird-lme. 2 Mournful elegy. ‘3) Choose out.TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV. ACT Ty. SCENE I—A forest, near Mantua. Enter certain Qut-laws. 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast: I see a passenger. 2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with ’em. Enter Valentine and Speed. 3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you; {f not, we’ll make you sit, and rifle you. Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much. Val. My friends,— 1 Out. That’s not so, sir; we are your enemies. 29 Oul. Peace ; we’ll hear him. 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we; For he’s a proper! man. Val. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose ; A man I am, cross’d with adversity : My riches are these porr habilaments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have. 2 Out. Whither travel you ? Val. To Verona. 1 Out. Whence came you? Val. From Milan. 3 Out. Have you long sojourn’d there? Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might have staid, ‘ If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 1 Out. What, were you banish’d thence ? Val. I was. j 2 Out. For what offence ? Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse (1) Well-looking.Scene I. OF VERONA. I kill’d a man, whose death I much repent: ; . . ™ But yet I slew him manfully in fieht, Without false vantaye, or base treachery. 1 Out. Why ne’e! repent it, lf it were done SO: But-were you banish’d for so small a fault? ] (put. Have vou the tongues 7! Val. Iw iS. al d held m: rlad of such a doom. Fal. My youthful trave | therein made me happy; . + ft} | | , ¥ } I often h qa vpeen miseravdie. 3 Out By the bare s« lp of Robin Hood's fat friar, This fellow were a king for our wild faction. ] Out. We'll | e him: sirs, a word. Speed. Vaster, be { them: It is an honourable kind of thievery. 2 Out. Tell us this: have you any thing to take it some of us are gentle- men, Such as th vern’d youth Thrust | n the « ’ awful? men: the duke. 1, for a gentleman, \ into the heart. 1 Out. And I, for such lke petty crimes as aA — f But to the purpose r we cite Our faults, ry } } | ‘ i] | T lawless 1a) That they may id excus @ our lawt ves, ) your own report A linguist; and a ff such perfection, As we do in our q ty much want ;— ad a banish’d 2 Out. Indeed, because you are a Danish'a man, (1) Lancuages. (2) Lawful. 3) Anger, resentment. cree On tee teedWa 136 TWO GENTLEMEN = Act IV Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you: if Are vou content to be our general ? ayia) To make a virtue of necessity, i And live, as we do, in this wilderness ? 3 Out. What say’st thou? wilt thou be of our consort ? Say. ay, and be the captain of us all: We'll do thee homage, and be rul’d by thee, Love thee as our commander, and our king. 1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. 2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer’d. Val. I take your offer, and will live with you ; Provided that you do no outrages Or passeneers, Dn silly women, or } o 3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. Come, xo with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, And show thee all the treasure we have got ; Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. | Exeunt. i SCENE II.—Milan. Court of the palace. En- ee { ter Proteus. yee | Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine, pareet a And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. ben Ry | Under the colour of commending him, Ht et [ have access my own love to prefer ; Pi But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, it To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. Lire iy When | prot st true loy alty to her, tie) | | She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; 1, When to her beauty I commend my vows, Vi She bids me think, how I have been forsworn | | In breakine faith with Julia whom I lov’d: | Whee And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,! mat 8) | The least whereof would quell a lover’s hope, Hy) j y . ey 1) : Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, } Mah > r ” (1) Passionate reproaches.AAS iL LI PLS AAPA SD ee eed SU ae PO ee ee Ie, ee ee Cote hh atin Ch gig 057, 7N AN is SN N NScene 7 TT} : ‘e if or . ] r . I] he more it grows and fawneth on her stil] put here comes Thurio: now must we to her win- dow. OF VERONA. And give some evening music to her ear. Enter Thurio, and musicians. Thu. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept Pro. Ay, rentle Thurio; for, you know, that Will creep in service where it cannot eo. Thu. Ly, but, | hope, sir, that you love not here. Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. Thu. Whom? Silvia? Pro. AY; Siivia—for your sake. Lhu. 1 thank you f r your own. Now, gentle: men, Let’s tune, and to it lustily awhile. Enter H St, at a distan ues and Julia in boy’s Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you’re allycholly; I pray you, why is it? Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be Tyie¢ Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll brine you where you snali near MUSIC, and see the Pren- tleman that you ask’d for. Jul. But s} ill | hear him speak ? Host. Ay, that you shall. Jul. That w be music. [Music plays Host. Hark! hark! Jul. Is he among these: stost. Ay : but pe ace, le t’s hear ’em. SONG. Who is Silvia? What is she, That all our swains commend her ?Aes TWO GENTLEMEN Holy, fair, and wise is she ; The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admured be. Ts she kind, as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kigdness: Love doth to her ¢ yes repair, T'o help ham of his blindness , And, being help’d, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia 1s EXCt lling . She excels each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring. Host. How now ? are you sadder than you were before? : How do you, man? the music likes you not. Jul. You mistake; the musician likes me not. Host. Why, my pretty youth ? Jul. He plays false, father. Host. How? outof tune on the strings? Jul. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very heart-strings. Host. You have a quick ear. Jul. Ay, | would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart. Jost. | perce ive, you delight not in music. Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. Host. Hark, what fine « hange is in the music ! Jul. Ay : that change is the spite. Host. You would have them always play but one thing? Jul. I would always have one play but one thine. But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on, Often resort unto this g@entlewornan ? Host. I tel! you what Lauace, his man, told me,OF VERONA. he love d her out of all nie k.! Jul. Where is Launce? 7 : J ( | | rone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, DY his master’s command, he must Carry for a Jul. Peace! stand aside! the company parts. Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you! I will so plead, That vou sha say, my cunning drift excels. E’xeunt Thurio and Musicians. 5 ’ > al } [ 7 e 7 1 appears ve, at her window. Pro. M Le | 1 even to your ladyship. Sil. 11 ik you for your music, gentlemen : Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart’s }ow’da earn to know him by his voice. S2l. Sir Proteus, as I take it. Pro. That I may compass yours. Sil. You have your wish; my will is even this,— That presently vou hie you home t bed, Thou subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal man ! Think’st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless, To be seduced | thy flatte ry, That hast deceiv’d so many with thy vows? Re turn, return, and make thy love amends. For me,—by this pale queen of night I swear, I am so far fy ym franting hy request, That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ; And by and by intend to chide mys ‘a ven for this time I spend in talking to thee. Pro. I erant, sweet love, that I did love a lady; Beyond all reckoning.140 TWO GENTLEMEN Act. ir. But she is dead. Jul. ”Twere false, if I should speak it ; For, I am sure, she is not buried. | Aside. Sil. Say, that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend, Survives: to whom, thyself art witness, lam betroth’d: And art thou not asham’d To wrong him with thy importunacy ? Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead. Sil. And so, suppose, am I; for in his grave, Assure thyself, my love is buried. Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. Si. Go to thy lady’s grave, and call her’s thence; Or, at the least, in her’s sepulchre thine. Jul. He heard not that. [ Aside. Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdirate, Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, The picture that is hanging in your chamber ; To that [ll speak, to that [’ll sigh and weep : For, since the substance of your perfect self Is else devoted, | am buta shadow: And tu your shadow I will make true love. Jul. If *twerea substance, you would, sure, de- ceive it, : And inake it but a shadow, as I am. | Aside. Sel. Tam very loth to be your idol, sir ; But, since your falsehood shall become you well To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and I’ll send it: And SO e'ood rest. Pro. As wretches have o’er-nicht, That wait for execution in the morn. : | Lxeunt Proteus; and Silvia, Jrom above. Jul. Host, will you go? Host. By my hallidom,! I was fast asleep. Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus? Host. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I think tis almost day. (1) Holy dame, blessed lady.Scene ITI. OF VERONA. 14. Jul. Not so: but it hath been the longest nicht 5 1 That e’er I wat h’d, and the most heaviest. eo LEU, SCENE HI.—The same. Enter Eelamour. Eel. This is the hour that madam Silvia Entreated me to call, and knov her mind ; l'here’s some great matter she'd ¢ mploy me in.-- Silty lia a] pe irs adoove, at her windor. Eo]. Your seryant, and your friend ; One that attends your ladyship’s command. O22. Sir b! mour, a thousand limes eood-mor- Egil. As many, worthy lady, to yourself. ladyship’s impose, ! | am thus early come, to know what service \ccording to yout lt is your pleasure to command me in. Sil. O Eel umour, thou art a gentleman Think not, I flatter, for, I sw: ar, I do not.) Valiant, wise, remorst ful,2 well ace omplish’d, ‘hou art not ignorant, what dear good will [ bear unto the banish’d Valentine Nor how my father wv uld enforce me marry Vain Thurio, whom my v« ry eoul abhorr’d. a lf hast lov’d; and I have heard thee say, \ \ o grief did ever come so near your | leart, s when thy lady and thy true love died, Upon whose grave thou vow’dst pure chastity. Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode; And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, I do desire thy worthy company, Upon whose faith and honour I repose. { rge not my father’s anger, Eglamour, ee a (1) Injunction, command. ‘2) Pitiful. Seneecomner neath iri. 2142 TWO GENTLEMEN Ate iv’. But think upon my grief, a lacy’s grief ; And on the justice of my flying hence, To keep me from a most unholy match, Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues. I do desire thee, even from a heart As full of sorrows as the sea of sanas, To bear me company, and go with me: If not, to hide what I have said to thee, That I may venture to depart alone. Eel. Madam, I pity much your grievances ; Which since I know they virtuously are plac’d, I give consent to go along with you ; Reckine! as little what betideth me, As much I wish all good befortune you. When will you go? Sil. This evening coming. Egl. Where shall I meet you ? Sil. At friar Patrick’s cell, Where I intend holy confession. Eel. Iwill not fail your ladyship : Good-morrow, gentle lady. Sil. Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour. : [Exeunt. SCENE IV.—The same. Enter Launce, with has dog. When a man’s servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard : one that I brought up of a puppy; one that Lsaved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him—even as one would say precisely, ‘Thus | would teach. a doz. I was sent to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; and I came no sooner into the dinine- chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals her capon’s leg. , ’tis a foul thing, when or qo \ Can (1) CaringScene LV. OF VERONA. 14° * . « _ ] a. : : acur cannot keep! himself in all companies! would have, as one should : : . ld say, one that takes upot him to be a dog indeed, to be. as it we re, a dora all things. If I had not had more wit than he, t take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been nangeed for’t: sure as | live, he had suf fe red for’t: you shall J idge. He thrusts me him self into ft] npany of three or four gentlemen like dogs, under the duke’s table : he had not been there 1eSs { I i issinge while: but all the CI imb r smeit him (Jost a 7 i} Lao the dog’, says one yy hat « ir 7a Wat £ say ws Whip him out, says the third; Hang him p up, SAVS the duke. :. having peen f ainted with the smell be fore, knew it was Crab: and goes me to the fellow that whips the dors: Fy, id, quoth I, you mean to whip the dog ? Ay, marry, do I. quoth he. You do him the more } nie, quoth | ’ "twas / did the thing you wot of He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of the chamber. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, Dl] be sworn, have sat in tl stocks for puddings he h ith stole 1, otherwise he had been eXe( uted : I have stood on the pillory for zeese he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for’t: thou think’st not of this now Val y remember the trick you served me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia : did not I bid thee still mark me. and do as I do When didst thou see me heav up my leg, and make "We water against a g-entlewoman’s farthingale? didst thou ever see me do such a trick ? Eenter Proteus and Julia. Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, And will employ thee in some service presently. Jul. In what vou please :—lI will do what I can. Pro. I hope, thou wilt.—How now, you whore son peasant? { Z’o Launce. (1) Restrain.144 TWO GENTLEMEN Ad IV. a Where have you been these two days loitering ? ea Laun. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the eee dog you bade me. ay Pro. And what says she, to my little jewel? \ Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and tells you, currish thanks is eood enough for such a present. Pro. But she received my dog? Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I ul brought him back again. Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me ? Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from me by the hangman’s boys in the market- place : and then I offered her mine own; whois a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift ASA RIT the ereater. Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again, Or ne’er rett un aga in unto my sight. {Wah I Away, I say: Stay’st thou to vex me here ? ni A aye, that, ceil an end,! turns me to shame. (Eat Launce Ete Sebastian, I have entertained thee, Hf teat Partly, that I have nee d of such a youth, Bi [hat can with some discretion do my business, For ’tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt: tL But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy Dehaviour ; Which (if my augury deceive me not) Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. Go presently, and take this mng with thee, Deliver it to madam Silvia : She loved me well, deliver’d it to me. Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her token: ; ‘‘ne’s dead, belike. Pro. Not so; I think, she lives. bit Jul. Alas! Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas? (1) In the end.Scene IV. OF VERONA. 14b Jul. I cannot choose but Pro. W he re fore should Jul. Because Tinie pity her. *st thou pity her? ; thinks, that she loved you as well ; As you do love your lady Silvia : She dreams on him, that has foreot he r love: Youd lf n her, that cares not for your love. "Tis pity. love s} uld be so contrarn : r that ring, and therewitha! This lette1 . that’s ney chamber.—Tell my lady, | claim f 36.7 her heavenly picture, : Your message done, hie hom: unto my « hamber, VW uere { us t find me sad and solitary. Exit Proteus women would do such a mes Alas, poor Proteus ! thou | A fox, to be the s pherd of thy lambs: Alas, poor fool! W 1y do I pity him That with his very heart d Becausi ne loves her, h Le spiseth me; — [ love him, I must pity him. hi rave h when he parted from me, ) bit a nim to remember my food will: = Tt An 1} am ] unhap \ messenver) T r 7 o plead for that, which I would not obtain: O ¢ that which | wou d have refus’d : : r O praise nis faitn r h, which I would have disy prais’d. [ am my master’s true confirmed love But cannot be true servant to my master, U nless | prove false traitor to my se If. Yet I will woo for him: but vet so coldly, As, heaven, it knows, I would not have hin speed, Enter Silvia, attended. Gentlewceman, good day ! I pray you, be my mean To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia. Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?146 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience To hear me speak the message I am sent on. Sil. From whom? Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam. Sil. O !—He sends you for a picture e Jul. Avy, madam. Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. [ Picture brought. Go, vive your master this: tell him from me, One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, Would better fit his chamber, than this shadow. Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.— Pardon me, madam ; I have unadvis’d Delivered you a paper that 1 should not; This is the letter to your ladyship. Sal. Il pray thee, let me \« ok on that again. Jul. It may not be; go 1d madam, pardon me. Sil. There, hold. [ will not look upon your master’s lines : re stufl’d with protestations, | know, they < which he will break And full of new-found oaths ; As easily as | do tear his paper. Jul. Madam, he sends your lady ship this ring. Sil. The more shame for him that he se nds it me 3 For, I have heard him say a thousand times, His Julia gave it him at his departure : Though his false finger hath profan’d the ring, Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. Jul. She thanks you. Sit. What say’st thou Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her: Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. Sil. Dost thou know her? Jul. Almost as well as I do know my self: To think upon her woes, I do protest, That I have wept a hundred several times. Sil. Belike, she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. Jul. I think she doth, and that’s her cause of sorrow.Scene IV OF VERONA. 14 Sz/. Is she not Dassinge fair ? Jul She hath been fairer. madam, than she ig When she did think my master lov’d her wel] She, in my judgment, was as fair as you: But since she did neglect he looking-elass + And threw her sun-« xpelline mask away, The air | , llr | Nn Stary d the roses In hey cheeks, And pinch’d the lily-tinctur. of her face, Phat now she is bec: me as black as I. as she? stature for, at Pentecost, 3 \ When all our 1 Dareants of de lieht were play’ you Fol me to pl Ly the woman’s part, and I was trimm’d in madam Julia’s fown, Which served me as fit by all men’s judoement As if the crarment had bes m made for me ; Therefore, I know she is aby ut my heieht. And, at t lat time, I made he r weep a-g¢ od,?2 For I did play a lamentable part Madam, ’twas Ariadne passioning For Theseus’ per} ry, and unjust flight; VV hie h | so live Vy acts d with my tears zl lat my poor mistress, moved the rewitha, Wept bitterly ind, would |] might be deaa, If I int! uzht feit not her very sorrow ! Sul. She is beholden to thee, eentle youth !— Alas, poor lady ! desolate and left !—~ l weep mvyse lf, to think unon thy words, thee this lov’st her. Ie ire w ¢ al Fixit Silvia. Jul. And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you Here, youth, there ismy purse: I vive ko t mistress’ sake, because thou r thy swee j j I. know her.— A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, Since she respects my mistress’ love so much. with itself! me see: | think, } Alas, how love can trifle Here is her picture: Let ee W hitsuntide. (2 In ood earnest. VOL. I. K os /148 TWO GENTLEMEN Iv I hac. such a tire,! this face of mine Were full as lovely as is this of hers: And yet the pi ‘inter flatter’d her a little, Unless I flatter with myse ‘If too much. Her hair is at 2 urn, mine Is pe rfect yellow : If that be all the difference in his love, Pil cet me su ha olour’d periwig. Her eyes are grey as elass; and so are mine: Ay, but her fore head’s low, and mine’s as high. What should it be, that he’ respects in her, But I can make respec tive2 in myself, If this fond love were not a blinded rok? Come, shadow, come, and take this s! sadow up, For ’tis thy rival. O thou senseless form Thou shalt be worshipp’d, kiss ’d. lov’d, and ador'd; And, were there sense 1n his idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. I’ll use thee kindly for thy mist ‘ess’ sake, That us’d me so; or else, by Jove I vow, I should have scratch’d out your unseeing eyes, To make my master out of love with thee. [FE -zvt. —— ACT Y. SCENE I—The same. An abbey. Enter Eglamour. Egl. The sun begins to cild the western sky ; And now, it is about the very hour : That Silvia, at Patrick’s cell, should meet-me. She will not fail; for lovers break not hours, Unless it be to come before their time ; So much they spur their expe dition. Enter Silvia. See, where she comes: Lady, a happy evening ! (1) Head-dress. (2) RespectableScene IT. OF VERONA. 149 Se. Amen,amen! go on, eood Eglamour ! Out at the postern by the abbey-wall: I fear, I am attended by some spies. Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues lf we recover that, we are sure! enough. [Exeuwnt. SCENE II.—The same. An apartment in the Duke’s palace. Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia. Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? Pro. QO, sir, I find her milder than she was: And yé t she takes ¢ XCé ptions at your pe rson. Thu. What, that my | 2 1s too lone: ? Pro. No: that it is too little. Thu. (ll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder. Pro. But love will not be spurr’d to what it loath ‘ Thu. What says she to my face? Pro. She says, it is a fair one. Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies: my face is . ’ - 1s [ CR. Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, Black men ar pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes. Jul. ’Tis true: such pearls as put out ladies’ eves: For I had rathe rv ink than look on the m. [ Aside, Thu. How like s she mM disc ourse ? Pro. lil, when you talk of war. Thu. But well, when I discourse of love, and Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. [ Aszde. Thu. What says she to my valour? Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. Jul. She needs not, when she knows it coward- ice. [ Aside. i150 TWO GENTLEMEN Act VP. Thu. What says she to my birth? Pro. That you are well deriv’d. Jul. True; from a gentleman to a fool. [Aside Thu. Considers she my possessions ? Pro. O, ay; and pities them. Thu. Wherefore’ Jul. That such an ass should owe! them. [ Aside Pro. That they are out by lease. Jul. Here comes the duke. Enter Duke. Duke. How now, Sir Proteus? how now, Thurio? Which of you saw Sir Eelamecur of late ? Thu. Not I. Pro. Nor I. Bt ji Duke. Saw you my daughter? Ke ‘| Pro. Neither. 1 Duke. Why, then she’s fled unto that peasant i Valentine ; aie a And Eglamour is in her company. AMT bs ’Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both, 1 : As he in penance wander’d through the forest: paengin bt Him he knew well, and guess’d that it was she; Lan a | But, being mask’d, he was not sure of it: pene!) Bet Besides, she did intend confession fi a At Patrick’s cell this even; and there she was not: These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. BI Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, But mount you presently ; and meet with me Upon the rising of the mountain-foot That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. { E-xtt Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish? girl, © That flies her fortune when it follows her: MI Pll after; more to be reveng’d on Eglamour, Than for the love of reckless® Silvia. (Exit (1) Own. (2) Foolish. (3) Careless.Scene III, IV. OF VERONA. lot Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love, Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. ( Eet. Jul. AndIw ill foll Ww, more to cross that love, Than hate for Silvia, that is fone for love. [ Extt. SCENE U.—Frontiers of Mantua. The Forest. Enter Sils ia, and Out-laws. Out. Come, coms Be atient, we must bring you to our captain. 2/4. A thousand more mischances than this one Have learn’d ine how to brook this patiently. 2 Out. Com , Oring’ ner away. 1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us, But Vii yses, and \ ilerius, follow him. Go thou with her to the west end of the wood, There is our ca n: we’ll follow him that’s fled ; The thicket is beset. he cannot ’sc ape. l Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain’s Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, And will not use a woman lawl ssly. Szl. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! [Exeunt SCENE IV.—Another part of the Forest. Enter Valentine. Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishine pi opled towns: Here can I sit alon And, to the nightingale’s complaining notes, , unseen Of any, Tune my distresses, and record! my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, (1) Sing. | Ne Hebe Hebets ae Hen152 TWO GENTLEMEN Act F. And leave no memory of what it w as! Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; Ee oe ventle nymph, « ‘herish thy forlorn swain !— What hi alloing, and what stir, is this to- day? These are my mates, that make their wills their law, Have some unhappy passenger in shi : They love me well; yet I have much to do, To kee p them from uncis il outrages. Withdraw thee, Valentine; who’s this comes here? [Steps aside. Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia. Pro. Madam, this service I have done for yeu (Though you respect not aught your servant doth 2) To hazard life ‘ oa rescue you from him That would have fore’d your honour and your love. Vouchsafe me, for my meed,! but one fair look ; A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. Val. Flow like a dream is this I see and hear! Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. [ Aside. Sil. O miserable, unhappy that Iam! Pro. Unhappy, were you, madam, ere I came ; But, by my coming, I have made you happy. Sil. By thy approach thou mak’st me most un- happy. Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your press nce. [ Aside. Sil. Had 1 been seized by a hungry lion, I would have been a bre a4 Ls to the beast, Rather than have false Proteus rescue me, O. heaven be judge, how I love Valentine, Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul ; And full as much (for more there cannot be,) { do detest false perjur’d Proteus : Reward.Scene IV. OF VERONA. 15a Therefore be gone, solicit me no more. Pro. What dange rous action, stood it next to di ath, Would I not undergo for one calm look ? QO, *tis th curse In love = and s il] approv’d,! When women cannot love where thev’re belov’d. Sil. Whi n Prote us Cannot ve where he’s belov’d. ad ove lia eal 1} irst be st love, whi lear sake thor t then rend thy Into a thousa } ) : and all those oaths Descended erjury, to lov me. Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou hadst two, And that’s far worse than none; better have none Than plural faith, which is too much by one: Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! ; Pro. In love, Who respect ts friend? Sil. All men but Proteus. Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words C: I way changer you toa mild r form, } I } i ; ou like a soldier, at arms’ end: love you org inst the nature ol love, force you. O heaven! Pro. orce thee yield to my desire. Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ; Thou friend of an ill fashion! ! Pro. Valentine ! Val. Thou common friend, that’s without faith or love: (For such is a friend now,) treacherous man ! Thou hast beguil’d my hopes; nought but mine eve Could have persuaded me: Now I dare not say [ have one friend alive ; thou would’st disprove me. Who should be trusted now, when one’s right hand Is perjur’d to the bosom?’ Proteus, (1) Felt, experienced. (AAA I Le ey ee154 TWO GENTLEMEN Jet F I am sorry, I must never trust thee more, But court the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest : O time, most curst! 'Mone’st all foes, that a friend should be the worst! Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me.— Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender it here; I do as truly suffer, As e’er I did commit. Val. Then I am paid; And once again I do receive thee honest.— Who by repentance is not satisfied, Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas’d ; By penitence the Eternal’s wrath’s appeas’d :— And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee. Jul. O me, unhappy! [ Faints. Pro. Look to the boy. Val. Why, boy! why, wag! how now? what is the matter? ; Look up; speak. Jul. O good sir, my master charg’d me To deliver a ring to madam Silvia; Which, out of my neglect, was never done. Pro. Where is that ring, boy ? Jul. Here ’tis: this is it. [Geves a ring. Pro. How! let me see Why this is the ring I gave to Julia. _ Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, | have raistook ; This is the ring you sent to Silvia. : [Shows am thar ring. Pro. But, how cam’st thou by this riag: at my depart, [ gave this unto Julia. Jul. And Julia herself did give it me 3 And Julia herself hath brought it hither. Pro. How! Julia! Jul. Behold her that gave aim! to all thy oaths, (1) Direction.Scene IV. OF VERONA. 155 And entertain’d them des ply in her heart: How oft hast thou with pe rjury cleft the root !! O Prote us, 1é€t (nis habit make thee blush ! ) , ? ) Be hou asham qd, that I have took upon me ; : : ; Such an immodest raiment: if shame live In a diseui & IOvVe > It is the lesser blot, mode sty finds, Women ange their shapes, than men they men their minds? ’tis true: O | im n! were man ) i But constant, he were pe rfect: that one error Hal N : Fills him with faults; makes hin run through all = iNis ; aq \\ \ Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins : ® Vhat isin Silvia’s face, but I may spy re fresh in Julia’s with a constant eye? me, a hand from either : to make this happy close ; PIII LPAI eS, wo such friends should be long foes. 7 eee ur Witness, heaven, 1 have my wisn for ever. Bh . Jul. And I have mine. => Enter Out-laws, with Duke and 'Thurio. Out. A prize, a prize, a prize! Val. Forbear, I say; It is my lord the duke. Your grace is wel ome to a man disgrac’d, Banished Valentine. Duke. Sir Valentine ! Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia’s mine. . Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thv . death: Come not within the measure? of my wrath: Do not name Silvia thine 3 if once again, Milan shall not behold thee. Here she stands, (1) An allusion to cleaving the pin in archery. (2) Lene th of my swoid.{ i} : 156 TWO GENTLEMEN Act V Take but possession of her with a touch! I dare thee but to breathe upon my eee — Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I; I hold him but a fool, that will end: anger His body for a girl that loves him not : I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. Duke. ‘The more degenerate and base art th 10U, To make such means! for her as thou hast done, And leave her on such slight conditions. — Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I do applau l thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of ane mpress’ love, Know then, I here forget al] former griefs, Cancel all erudve, re peal thee home ayain.— P lead a new state in thy vis ome merit To which I thus subscribe »—sir Vale ntine, Thou art a gentleman, and we ll deriv’d:; Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv’d her. Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made me hap py. I now be Siahe you, for your daughter’s To frant one boon that I sh: ill ask of you. Duke. | grant it, for thine own, whate er it be. Val. These banish’d men, that I have kept withal, Are men endued with worthy qualities ; Forgive them what the vy have committed ] And let them be recall’d from their exile: They are reforme d. civil, full of food, And fit for great employment, worthy lord. Duke. Thou hast prevail’d;: | pardon them and thee Dispose of them, as thou know’st their deserts. With triumphs,?2 mirth Coine, let us go: we will inc lude3 all jars, } er And, as we walk along, I dare be bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile What think you of this page, my lord ? sake, lere, , and rare sole munity. (1) Interest. (2) Masks, revels. (3) ConcludeScene IV. OF VERONA. 157 Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes. t you, my lord; more grace than it mean you by that saying? you, 1*|] te {] you as we pass along, wonder what hath fortuned.— : Deridincea's <5 : oe ( ome, Proteus: us your penance, but to hear Ih | 7a 3 r ves discovered : [} lay of marriage shall be yours , ie house, one mutual happiness. | Exeunt. strange mixture of know sre and negligence. The excellent, the allusions are but the author conveys his by sea from one inland town to another in ‘country ; he places the « mperor at Milan, is young men to attend him, but never mentions him more ; he makes Proteus, after an in- terview with Silvia, say he has only seen her pic- ture: and, if we may credit the old copies, he has, by mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable. eason of all this confusion seems to be, that took his story from a novel which he sometimes followed, and sometimes forsook ; sometimes re- members d, and sometimes forgot. That this play is rightly attributed to Shak- speare, I have little doubt. If it be taken from him, to whom shall it be viven? ‘This question may be asked of all the disputed plays, except Titus An- dronicus: and it will be found more credible, that ht sometimes sink below his highest flizhts, than that any other should rise up to his lowest. JOHNSON Shakspeare migMERRY WIVES oF WINDSOR.PERSONS REPRESENTED. Sir John Falstaff. Fenton, Shallow, a country justice. Slender, cousin to Shallow. Mr. Ford, ( Mr. Page, William Page, a boy, son to Mr. Page. two gentlemen dweurng at Windsor. Sir Hugh Evans, a Welsh parson. Dr. Caius, a French physician. Host of the Garter Inn. Bardolph, Pistol, ( Jollowers of Falstaff Nym, Robin, page to Falstaff. Simple, servant to Slender. Rugby, servant to Dr. Caius. Mrs. Fora. Mrs. Page. Mrs. Anne Page, her daughter, in love with Fenton. Mrs. Quickly, servant to Dr. Caius. Servants to Page, Ford, &c. Scene, Windsor ; and the parts adjacent.MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, ACT I. SCENE I[.—lWéindsor. Before Page’s house Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and Str! Hugh Evans. 7 SIR Huch, persuade me not; I will make a Star- chamber matter of it: if he were twenty Sir John I Falstaffs, he shall not abus Lobert Sha low, es- quire. Slen. In the cour 5 of oster, justice of peace, and coram. Shal. Ay. cousi lender, and cust-alorwm.2 Slen. Ay. and ratolorum too; anda gentleman born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero ; in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, a7- migero. Shal. Ay, that we do, and have done any time these three hundred years. Slen. All his successors, gone before him, have done’t; and all his ancestors, that come after him, (1) A title formerly appropriated to chaplains } (2) Custos rotulorum.MERRY WIVES et I. may: they may give the dozen white luces in their coat. Shal. It isan old coat. Eva. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well; it agrees well, passant: it is a familiar beast to man, and signifies—love. Shal. The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old coat. Sen. I may quarter, coz? Shal. You may, by marrying. Eva. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. Shal. Not a whit. Eva. Yes, py’r!-lady ; if he has a quarter of your oat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple « on} ctures: but that is all one: if Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, [ am of the church, and will be glad to do my be- nevolence, to make atonements and compromises between you. i Shal. The council? shall hear it; it is a riot. Eva. It is not meet the council hear a riot; there reel et is no fear of Got ina riot: the council, look you, i APR A shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear | a riot; take your vizaments? in that. | Shal. Ha! o’ my life, if l were young again, the sword should end it. ; Wt Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another device in my prain, which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with it: there is Anne Page, which is daughter to master George Page, which is pretty virginity. Slen. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks small4 like & woman. Eva. It is that fery person for all the ’orld, as just as you will desire ; and seven hundred pounds of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, wn ee || upon his death’s-bed (Got deliver to a joyful resur- 1) By our. (2) Court of star-chamber ( (3) Advisement. (4) Soft.Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 163 rections !) give, when she is able to overtake seven- teen years old: it were a goot motion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between master Abraham, and mistress Anne Pac . Did her erandsire leave her seven bundrect y, and her father is make hera petter penny. know the young gentlewoman: she has ‘va. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is Well, let us see honest master Page : is there s [ tell you a lie? I do despise a liar, se one that is false: or, as | despise one that is not true. The knight, sir John, is there; and, | beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door [knocks| for master Page. i } What, hoa! Got pless your house here! Enter Pace. Pace. Who’s there Eva. Here is Got’s plessing, and your friend, and justice Shallow: and here young master Slen- der; that, peradventures, shall tell you another tale, if m itters 21 yw to vour likings. Page. I am giad to se your worships well: I thank you for my venison, master Shallow. Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you ; much LO id qao it your £o dd heart ! | wished your venison better: vas ill killed :-—how doth cood mistress Page ?—and I love you always with my heart, la ; with my heart. Page. Sir, I thank you. Shal. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do. Page. 1 am glad to see you, good master Slen- der. Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I VOL, I. LMERRY WIVES ieard say, he was outrun on Cotsale.! Page. It could not be judg’d, sir. Slen. You'll not confess, you’ll not confess. Shal. That he will not ;—'tis your fault, tis your fault :—’tis a good dog. Page. A cur, sir. Shal. Sir, he’s a good doe, and a fair dor: can there be more said? he is good, and fair.—ls sir John Falstaff here ? Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I conld de a ood office between you. Eva. It is spoke as a christians ought to speak. Shal. He hath wrong’d me, master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. Shai. If it be confess’d, itis not redress’d; is not that so, master Page? he hath wrong’d me: in- deed, he hath:—at a word, he hath ;—believe me ;— Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wrong’d. Page. Here comes Sir John. ; Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. Fal. Now, master Shallow ; you’ll complain of me to the kine? Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killea my deer, and broke open my lodge. : Fal. But not kiss’d your keeper’s daughter. Shal. Tut, a pin! this shall be answer’d. Fal. I will answer it straight ;—I have done al! this —that is now answer’d. Shal. The council shall know this. Fal. *T were better for you, if it were known ir counsel: you'll be laugch’d at. Eva. Pauca verba, Sir John, good worts. Fal. Good worts !! good cabbage.—Slender, J (1) Cotswold in Gloucestershire. (2) Worts was the ancient name of all the cab- bage kind.Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 165 broke your head: what matter have y acains Ke | it matter have you against me fF a : Slen. Marry, + I have matter in my head against you; and against your coney-catchine! | o rast ais, Dardolph, Nym, and Pistol. They carried me to the tavern. an % made me drunk, and after- wards picked m: pocket. RB = . t> a ? ~= sar, O banbdury cheese [4 /en, \ is NO matter. Pist. OW now, Vii phostophilus °3 / 1s BO mater, »Isay! pauca, pauca slice ! that’s my humor Slen. Where’s unple, my man ?—can you tell, cousin ? Eva. Peace, I pray you! Now let us under- 3 7 , ” - . . . stand: th iree umpires in this matter, as [ it is, master Page, fidelicet, master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet, myself: and the three party 1s, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garte é Page. We three, to hear it, and end it between them. ) I will make a prief of it in my note-book ; ai will alte rwards ” or k upon t the cause, with a discreetly as we can. Fal. Pistol, Pist. He hears with ears. Eva. T! 1 his ts um ' what phrase is this, He hears with car 2 W hy t is affectations. Fal. Pistol, « lid yo u pl “kk master Slender’ S purse ° Slen. a. by these ¢ id he (or I would | wn great chamahth again might never come in mine l-sixpences, and two else, 1 of seven froats in mil Edward shovel-boards,5 that cost me two shilling (2\ Nothir 1s ae paring, of an ugly spirit. ) Few words. ee) in the game (1) Sharpers. (3) The name « (5) Kine Edward’s shillings, of shuffle-board.166 MERRY WIVES Act 1 and two pence apiece of Yead Miller, by these cloves. Fal. Is this true, Pistol ? Eva. No; it is false, if it is a pick- a Pist. Ha, thou mountain- foreigner !—Sir John and master mine, I combat challenge of this latten bilbo :! Word of denial in thy labras? here ; Word of denial; froth and scum, thou liest. Slen. By these eloves, then ‘twas he. Nym. be advised, sir, and pass eood humours: I will say, marry trap, with you, if you run the nuthook’s? ee me: that is the very note of it. Slen. By this hi . then he in the red face had it: for thouch [ cannot remember w - it | did when you made ine drunk, yet I am not al ltorether an ass. Fal. What say you, 5 arlet and John? Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say, the gentle- man had drunk himself out of his five sentences r va. It ishis five senses: fie, what the onpranes ey And being fap,! sir, was, as they say, cashier’d: and so conclusions pass’ d the careires.° Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but ’tis no matter: Dll ne’er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, oe codly company, for this trick : if I be drunk, [ll be dh “ink with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. Eva. So Got ’udge me, that is a virtuous mind. Fal. You hear all these matters denied, ge ntle- men; you hear it. L Enter Mistress Anne Page with wine ; Mistress Ford and Mistress Page following. Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll drink within. [Exit Anne Page. (1) Blade as thin as a lath. (2) Lips (3) If you say [ am a thief. 1) Drunk. (5) The bounds of good behaviour.Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 167 Slen. O heaven! this is mistress Anne Page. Page. How now, mistress Ford ? Fal. Mistvess Ford, by my troth, you are very well met: by your leave, good mistress. | kissing: her. Pace. Wife. bid these rentlemen wel ome :— Com ~ we have a hot venison pasty to dinner: come gentlemen, | hope we shall drink down all unkind- hess, E’xeunt all but Shal. Slend. and Evans Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had my book of songs and sonnets here :— Enter Simple. How now, Simple ! where have you been? I must wait on myself, must I? You have not The Book of Riddles about you, have your Sim. Book of Riddles! why, did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake, upon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas ?! Sfhal. Come, coz: come, coz: we stay for you. A word with VOU, COZ : marry, this, coz: there iS, as ’twere, a tend r,a kind of tender, made afar off ~y sir Hugh here :—do you understand me ? 'Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable sit i re so, | shall do that tnat 1s reason. Shal. Nay, but understand me. Eva. Give ear to his motions, master Slender: I will des ription the matter to you, it you be capa- city of it. Slen. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow Says : [ pray you, pardon me; he’s a justice of peace in his country, simple though I stand here. Eva. But that is not the question; the question is concerning your marriage. Shal. Ay, there’s the point, S] (1) An intended blunder. ret icarsg168 MERRY WIVES Act L. Eva. Marry, is it; the very point of it; to mis- tress Anne Page. Slen. Why, if it be so, 1 will marry her, upon any reason able dem: a ‘Eva. But can you affection the ’?oman? Let us command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips ; for divers philoso} yhers hold, that the lips i 1S parcel of the mouth :—therefore, precise ‘ly, can you earry your gov d will to the maid ? Shai. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love he r? Slen. I hope, sir,—I will do, as it shall become one that would do reason. Eva. Nay, Got’s lords and his ladies, you must speak possitable, if you can carry her your desires towards her. Shal. That you must: w ill you, upon eood dow- ry, marry her? “ Slen. | will doa greater thing than that, upon your request, cousin, in any reason. Shal. Nay, conce iveme, conceive me, sweet coz; what I do, is to pleasure you, COZ ; Can you love the maid? Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request ; but ¢ there be no creat love in the beginning, yet hea- ven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married, and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt : but if you say, marry her, 1 will marry her, that I am freely dissolved, and disso- lutely. Eva. It is a fery discretion answer; save, the faul’ is in the ’ort dissolutely : the ’ort is, according ‘o our meaning, resolutely ;—his meaning is eood. Shal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well. Slen. Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la. Re-enter Anne Page. Shal. Here comes fair mistress Anne :—Would were young, for your sake, mistress Anne :Si ere An desire . OF WINDSOR. 169 ne. The dir nner Is on the t table; my father S your wors hips’ com] pany. S _ will } /Ainne. Will’t ple il wait on him, fair mistress Anne, )d’s plessed will! ] will not be absence [ Exe unt Shal. and Sir H. Evans. ase your worship to come in, sir? Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily : 2 am very well i / ire. The dinne r atte nds You, sir. | difh not a-huneyr ery, | thank you, forsooth : Go, sirrah, for all] you are my man, go, wait upon my cousin Shallow Exit Simple.) A justice of pear som me m ) ) holden nah friend for a Inan my m like a , A. troth, I cann t abide the smell of Why do town ? Anne . [ keep but three men anda boy yet, till what though? yet I live poor fentieman bi Uri. go In without your worship : iin sit, tll you come. faith, Pll eat n thing ; I thank you as [ pray you, alk in. [ had rather walk here, T thank you: I my shin the other day with playing at eger with a master of fence, three for a dish of stewed prunes; and, by my ll of hot meat since. your does bark so’? be there bears i’ the I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of. Slen quarrel afraid, if Anne. Slen I love the sport w 3 but I shall as soon at it, as any man in Enela ind :—you are 1 you see the Db cee you not? Ay, indeed, so That’s meat and drink to me now: | ‘Three set-to’s. bouts, or hits.Peta eee oe baler nes SPN e 3 170 MERRY WIVE> Aet I. have seen Sackerson! loose, twenty times ; and have taken him by the chain: but, | warrant you, so cried and shriek’d at it, that it the women have indeed, cannot abide ’em; pass’d :2—but women, they are very ill-favoured rough things. Re-enter Page. Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come ; we stay for you. : Sien. Pll eat nothing ; I thank you, sir. Page. By cock and pye, you shall not choo3e, sir: come, come. Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. Pace. Come on, SID. SJen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. Anne. Not I, sir; pray you, keep on. Slen. Truly, I will not go first; truly, la: I will not do you that wrong. Anne. | pray you, sir. Slen. Vl rather be unmannerly than trouble some: you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. [ Exeunt. SCENE II.—The same. Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius’ house, which is the way: and there dwells one mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer. Simp. Well, sir. Eva. Nay, it is petter yet :-——give her this let- ter: for it is a ’oman that altogether’s acq ain- tance with mistress Anne Page ; and the letter is, to desire and require her to solicit your master’s (1) The name of a bear exhibited at Paris- Garden, in Southwark. (2) Surpassed all expression.scene ILI. OF WINDSOR. 171 desires to mistress Anne Pace: ] pray you, be gone; : ; ia 5 ’ I will make an ead of my dinner: there’s pippi and cheese lo come. [Fi | Axeunt. SCE. VE ITI.—.A room in the Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and Rol LOU IT). Fal. Mine host of the Garter,— Host. What s iys my bully-rook ? Speak scho}- arly, and wisely. Fal. ‘Truly, mine host, I must turn away some ol my i vers. Host. rd, bully Hercules; cashier: let them wag’: trot, trot. Fal. ta | unds a wee k. Host. Thou’rt an « mperor, Cesar, Keisar, and Pheezar. Will entertam Ba ( N 5 he shal] draw, he shall tap: said I well, bully Hector? Fal. Do so, good mine host. Host. | have spoke; let him follow: let me see thee froth, and lime: I am at a word: follow. [| Ea2t Host. Fal. Bardolph, follow him; a tapster is a good trade: an old cloak makes a new jerkin: a with- ered serving-man, a fresh tapster : 20; adieu. Bard. Itisa life that | have de sired : | will thrive. | Hatt Bard. Pist. O base Gongarian! wight! wilt thou the spigot Wwle ld? Vym. He was gotten in drink: is not the hu- mour conceited? His mind is not heroic, and there’s the humour of it. Fal. [am glad, I am so acquit of this tinder- box; his thefts were too open: his filching was like an unskilful singer, he kept not time. /Vym. The good humour is, to steal at a minute’s rest. (1) For Hungarian. /2 MERRY WIVES Pist. Convey, the wise it call: steal! foh; a fico! for the phrase ! Fal. Well, sirs, Iam almost out at heels. Pist. Why then let kibes ensue. Fal. There is no remedy; I must coney-catch; I must shift. Pist. Young ravens must have food. Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town ? Pist. I ken the wight; he is of substance good. Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. : Pist. Two vards, and more. Fal. No quips now, Pistol; indeed I am in the waist two yards about: but I am now about nec waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to miake love to Ford’s wife; I spy entertainment in her: she discourses, she carves, she gives the lee of invitation: I can construe the action of her fa- miliar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be English’d rightly, is, J am Sir John Fal- staff's. Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated her well; out of honesty into English. Nym. The anchor is deep: will that humour pass? Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husband’s purse; she hath legions of an- gels.2 Pist. As many devils entertain; and, Z'o her, boy, Say ‘ Nym. The humour rises; it is good: humour me the angels. Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her: and here another to Page’s wife; who even now gave me good eyes too, examin’d my parts with most judi: ious eyliads : sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly. Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine. 1) Fig. (2) Gold coin.Scene IT]. OF WINDSOR. /Vym. I thank thee for that humour. Fal. did so course o’er my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass ! Here’s another letter to her: she bears the purse he | rion in Guiana, all gold and bounty. ater! to them both, and they shall be wo mes they shall be my) East and West will trade to them both. Go, bear to mistress Page; and thou this to will thrive, lads, we will thrive. * Pand irus of ‘Troy bec ome, ar steel? then, Lucifer take all! un no base humour ; here, take the lL will keep the *haviour of reputa- ; Hold, sirra to Rob.) bear you these let- ters ll ; pinnace to these rolde n shores.— : vanish like hail-stones, go ; the hoof ; seek shelter, iff will le: the humour of this age, h thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted 5 ‘xeunt Falstaff and Robin. » thy guts! for gourd and ruile the rich and poor : 11 have in pouch,4 when thou shalt lack, Ly l Turk ! h yperations in my head, which be humours of revenge. Pist. Wilt thou revenge Nym. ~ By welkin, and her star! Pist. With wit, or steel ? Nym. With both the humours, I; Escheatour, an oeoe: the Exchequer. Cleverly. 3) False dice. fe ca.tiil hare ma (1) (2 (4)174 MERRY WIVES Act I. I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. Pist. And 1 to Ford shall eke unfold How Falstaff, varlet vile, His dove will prove, his gold will neld, And his soft couch defile. ? JVym. My humour shall not cool : I will incense! Page to deal with poison; I will possess him with yellowness,? for the revolt of mien is dangerous: that is my true humour. Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents: I second thee; troop on. | Eaxeunt. SCENE IV.—A room in Dr. Caius’s house. Enter Mrs. Quickly, Simple, and Rugby. Quick. What; John Rugby !—I pray thee, go to the casement, and see if you can see My master, master Doctor Caius, coming: if he do, i’faith, and find any body in the house, here will be an old abusing of God’s patience, and the king’s English. Rug. Pll go watch. [Eat Rugby. QMuick. Go; and we'll havea posset for’t soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in house withal; and, I w arrant you, no tell-tale, nor no breed-bate :3 his worst fault is, that he is given to prayer ; he is some thing peevish4 that way: but nobody but has his fault ;—but let that pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is? Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. @uick. And master Slender’s your master? S2m. Ay, forsooth. Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a glover’s paring-knife ? Sem. No, forsooth: he hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard ; a Cain-coloure] beard. (1) Instigate. (2) Jealousy. (3) Strife. (4) Foolish.Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 175 Quick. A softly-sprighted man, is he not ? Sim. Ay, forsooth: but he is as tall! a man ot his hands, as any is between this and his head: he hath foucht with a warrener.2 Quick. How say you?—O, I should remember him; does he not hold up his he ad, as it were? and In his & uit ? sum Yes, indeed, does he. Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse Tell master parson Evans, I will do what uur master: Anne isa good girl, and I Re-enter Rugby. ' . Out, alas : here comes my master. Mur k We shall all be snent :3 run in here, good young man; go into this closet. [Shuts Simple in the closet He will not stay long.—What, John Rugby! John, what, John, I say!—Go, John, go inquire for my master ; | doubt, he be not well, that he comes not home:—and down, down, adown-a, &c. | Sug's. Enter Doctor Caius. Carus. V it 1s yi u sing ? | do not like dese toys ; Pray vou, 0 and vetch me in my closet un bortier Dé rd - = DOX, a gTreen-a box . do intend vat | speak ? a green-a box. Quick. Ay, forsooth, I’ll fetch it you. Tam olad he went not in himself; if he had found the young man, he would have been horn-mad. [ Aside. Caius. Fe, fe, fe, fe! ma for, rl fart fort chaud, Jeé men vais a la cour,—la grand affaire. Quick. Is it this, sir’ . Caius. Ouy; mette le au mon pocket ; depeche, guickly :—Vere is dat knave Rugby ? (1) Brave. (2) The keeper of a warren. 3) Scolded, reprimanded.176 MERRY WIVES Act I. Quick. What, John Rugby! John! Rug. Here, sir. Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby: come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to de court. “Rug. ’Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long :—QOd’s me ! Qway j’oublié ? dere is some simples in my closet, dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind. Quick. Ah me! he’ll find the young man there, and be mad. Caius. O diable, diable! vat is in my closet >— Villany ! larron! [ Pulling Sunple out.) Rugby, my rapler. QMuick. Good master, be content. Caius. Verefore shal} I be content-a? Quick. The young man is an honest man. Caius. Vat shall de honest nian do in my closet? dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet. Quick. I beseech you, be not so flegmatic; hear the truth of it: he came of an errand to me from parson Hugh. Caius. Vell. Sim. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to Quick. Peace, I pray you. Caius. Peace-a your tongue :—Speak-a your tale. Sem. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to mistress Anne Page, for my master, in the way of marriage. Quick. This is all, indeed, la; but Pll ne'er put my finger in the fire, and need not. Caius. Sir Huch send-a you?—ugby, batllez me some paper :—Tarry you a little-a while. | wretes. Quick. I am glad he is so quiet :. if he had been thoroughly moved, you should have heard him so Joud, and so melancholy ;—but notwithstanding, nan, ’ll do your master what good I can: and, the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my master,—I may call him my master, look you, forScene IV. OF WINDSOR. ivi I keep his house ; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, ] . scour, Gress meat and drink, make the beds, and a creat charge, to come under one Are you avis’d o’ that ? you shall find ita : and to be up early, and down late :— | to tell you in your ear; I no words of it: my master himself is mistress Anne Pave: but notwith- | know Anne’s mind,—that’s nei- : cive-a dis letter to Sir , it isashallenge: I vill cut his troat ll teacha s« urvy jac k-a-nape ‘make :—you may be gone ; it arry here :—by gar, I will cut all by gar, he shall not have a stone to Exit Simple. he speaks but for his friend. ) matter-a for dat :—do not you it I shall have Anne Page for myself ? de Jack priest ;: and I have ap- t of ad Jart rre to Measure our car, I vill myself have Anne Page. 1 loves you, and all shall be folks leave to prate: What, 12 come to the court vit me ;—by if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your of my door :—Follow my heels, Rugby. E-reunt Caius and Rugby. Quick. You shall have An fools-head ot your ow : No. I know Anne’s mind for that: never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne’s mind than I do: nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven. Fent. { Within.) Who’s within there, ho ? (1) The goujere, what the pox ! ‘178 MERRY WIVES Ad tf Quick. Who’s there, I trow? Come near the house, I pray you. Enter Fenton. Fent. How now, good woman; how dost thou? Quick. The better, that it pleases your good worship to ask. Fent. What news? how does pretty mistress Anne? Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and eentle; and one that is your friend, [ can tell you that by the way ; I praise heaven for it. Fent. Shall I do any good, thinkest thou? Shall I not loose my suit? Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above: but notwithstanding, master Fenton, P’ll be sworn ona book, she loves you :—Have not your worship a wart above your eye? Fent. Yes, marry, have I: what of that? Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale ;—good faith, it is such another Nan:—but, I detest,! an honest maid as ever broke bread :—We had an hour’s talk of that wart ;—I shall never laugh but in that maid’s company.—But, indeed, she is given too much to allicholly2? and musing: but for you— Well, oo to. Fent. Well, I shall see her to-day : hold, there’s money for thee; let me have thy voice in my be- half: if thou seest her befere me, commend me— Quick. Will I? i’faith, that we will: and I will tell your worship more of the wart, the next time we have confidence; and of other wooers. Fent. Well, farewell; Iam in great haste now. [ Exit. Quick. Farewell to your worship.—Truly, an honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not; for I know Anne’s mind as well as another does :— Out upon’t! what have I forgot ? [Eact (1) She means, I protest. (2) Melancholy.Scene I. OF WINDSOR. ACT II. SCENE I.-—Before Page’s house. Enter Mis- tress Pagze, with a letter. Mrs. Page. What! have I ’scaped love-letters in the holy -day time of my beauty, and am I now a subiect for them? Let me see: [v-eads. Ask me no reason wh y I love you ; for though for his precisian,! he admits him You are not young, no there’s sympath Ys: you a! ha! then there's more ‘k, and so do I: would mpathy ? Let at suffice thee, least, uf the love of a soldier e thee. Iwill not say, pity her-like phrase ty but I Say, love Thine own true knicht, By day or neht, Or any kind of lheht, ; his michit, to fight, John Falstaff. ’ Jewry is this!—O wicked, me that is well nigh worn to wick to show himself a young gallant! pieces with age, What an unwe iorhe d be haviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked (with the devil’s name) out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner assay > Why, he hath not been thrice in my compa- ny '!—What should I say to him?—I was then frugal of my mirth :—heaven forgive me !—Why, a bill in the parliament for the putting How shall I be revenged on him? rie | down of men. (1) Most probably Shakspeare wrote Physician VOI. I. M VLEMERRY WIVES Act TL for revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made of puddings. Enter Mistress Ford. Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page! trust me, I was go- ing to your house. : = Mrs. Page. And, trust me, I was ‘coming to you. You look very ill. " Mrs. Ford. Nay, I’ll ne’er believe that; I have to show to the contrary. Mrs. Page. ’Faith, but you do, in my mind. Mrs. Ford. Well, Ido then; yet, I say, I could show you to the contrary: O, mistress Page, give me some counsel ! ’ 7 Mrs. Page. What’s the matter, woman? Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour ! Mrs. Page. Hang the trifle, woman; take the honour: what is it?—dispense with trifles ;—what is it? Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment, or so, I could be knighted. Mrs. Page. What?—thou liest!—Sir Alice Ford '——These knights will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. Mrs. Ford. We burn day-light:—here, read, read ;—perceive how I might be knighted.—I shall think the worse of fat men, as long as | have an eye to make difference of men’s liking: and yet he would not swear; praised women’s modesty: and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof toall un- comeliness, that | would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words’: but they do no more adhere and keep place together, than the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves. What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wickedScene I. OF WINDSOR. have melted him in his own crease. you ever hear ft like : _ i fre ot lust Lie Page. Letter for letter; but that the name r ord differs !—To thy great comfort ry ol il] opinions, here’s the twin tter: but let thine inherit first : for, ver shall. I warrant, he hath a letters, writ with blank space for ure more,) and these are of the will print them out of doubt: he puts into the press, when . I had rather be a giantess, mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lasc) us turtles, ere one chaste man. Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the ve ry same; the hz Ln rds: what doth h think of us? ay, I know not: it makes me al- le with mine ow 1 honesty. Tl] like one that I am not ac quainted h; , unless he know some strain in me, it 1 Know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call you it? Pll be sure to keep him above deck. MM Ss. Pave. So will I; if he come under my hate he Ss, [? | never to sea acain. Le t’s be revenced let’s appoint him a meeting: vive him a ifort in his suit; and lead him on with baited delay, till he hath pawn’d his horses to mine host of the Carter. Mrs. Ford. Nay, Iwill consent to act any vil- lany against him, that may not sully the chariness! of our honesty. OQ, that my husband saw this let- ter! it would give eternal food to his jealousy. Mrs. Pace. Why, look, whe re he COMmMes > and my good man too: he’s as far from Jealousy, as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeeasurable distance. (1) Caution. Ne182 MERRY WIVES Act IT. Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woinan. Mrs. Page. Let’s consult together against this greasy knight: come hither. [They retire. Enter Ford, Pistol, Page, and Nym. Ford. Well, I hope, it be not so. Pist. Hope is a curtail! dog in some affairs : Sir John atiects thy wife. Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. Pist. He woos both high and low, both rich and at Both young and ol ld, one with another, Ford ; He loves thy gally-mé wary :2 Ford, perpend.3 Ford. Love my wife Pist. With liver buming bot: prevent, or go thou, Like sir Acteeon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels : O, odious is the name! Ford. What name, sir? Pist. The horn, I say : farewell. Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do sing.— Away, sir corpor% al Nym. Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. [Eat Pistol. Ford. I will be patient; I will find out this. Nym. And this is true. [Z'o Page.| I like not the humour of lying. He hath wrong’d me in some humours: I should have borne the humoured let- ter to her: but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there’s the short and the long. My name eects a1 Nym ; I speak, and I avouc sos true :—my n ae is Nym, and Falst aff | loves your wife.—Adieu ! I love not the humour of bread and cheese ; and there’s the humour of it. Adieu. [E vet Nym. Page. The humour of tt, quoth ’a ’a! here’sa fel low frights humour out of his wits. (1) A 4og¢ that misses his game. (2) A medley (3) Consider.Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 18: Ford. I will seek out Falstaff. Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue. Ford. If I do find it, well, Page. I will not believe such a Cataian,! though the priest o’ the . Lil town commended him for a true man. Ford. “ie asa rood Sé nsible fe llow Well Page. How now, Me oP Mrs. Page. W hither go you, George ?>—Hark How now, sweet Frank? why art lancholy! I am not melancholy.— , Faith, thou hast some crotchets in Will you go, mistress Pave ? Have with you.—You’ll come to a ok, who comes yond rs she be our messenger to this paltry knight. is Aside to Mrs. Ford. Enter Mistress Quick ly. Trust me, I thoueht on her: are come to see my daughter Ay, forsooth: and, ] pray, how does t MIStress Anne age. Goin with us, and see: we have an lk with vou. ‘ e. Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford,and Mrs. Quick. How now, master Ford ? You heard what this knave told me; did you not? Page. Yes: and you heard what the other told me? . : Ford. Do you think there is truth in them : (1) A lying sharper \184 MERRY WIVES Act IT, Page. Hang ’em, slaves! I do not think the knizht would offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives, are a voke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of Sery 1¢ Kn Ford. Were they his men? Page. Marry, were they. Fi rd. I like it never the better for that.—Does he lie at the Garter? Page. Ay, marry) does he. If he should intend this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. Ford. 1 do not misdoubt my wife ; but T would be loth to turn them together: A man may be too confident: I would have nothing lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied. Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Gar- ter comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money in his purse, when he looks so merrily. How now, mine host? Enter Host and Shallow. Host. How now, bully-rook? thou’rta gentleman : cavalero-justice, I say. Shal. 1 follow, mine host, I follow.—Good even and twenty, go 1d master Page! Master Page, will you go with us? we have sport in hand. Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice ; tell him, bully rook. Shall. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French dor tor. Ford. Good mine host o’ the Garter, a word with you. Host. What say’st thou, bully-rook ? [They go aside. Shal. Will you [to Page] go with us to behold it? my merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed themScene I. OF WINDSOR. contrary places: for, believe me, I hear, the par- son is no jester. Hark, I will tell you whe it our sport shall be. Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my rotest: but Pll give youa pottle ive me recourse to him, and tell s Brook ; only for a jest. uly : thou shalt have egress and thy name shall be knight.—Will you go on, with you, mine host. heard, the Frenchman hath good [ could have told you more: In on distance, your passes, not what: ’tis the heart, *tis here. I have seen the d, I would have made you 9 he rc. he re! shall we you :—TI had rather hear Eveunt Host, Shallow, and Page Though Page a secure fool, and stands on his wite’s frailty, 9 yet I cannot put off pinion asily : Sh Page’s house : and, wit it they made? there, I know not. Well. I will look further into’t: and 1 havea discuise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I not my labour; if she be otherwise, ’tis labour wed [ Exit, Wwe I] bestows ad. ey vas in his company at lose SCENE II—A Roomin the Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff and Pistol. Fal. I will not lend thee a penny. (1) Stout, bold. (2) Did.186 MERRY WIVES Act II. Pist. Why, then the world’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.— I will retort the sum in equipage.! Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn : I have grated upon my eood friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow? Nym ; or else you had look- ed through the grate like a geminy of baboons. I am damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were good soldiers, and tall fellows : and when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, | took’t upon my honour, thou hadst it not. Pist. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fif- teen pence Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason : Think’st thou, [’ll endanger my soul gratis? Ata word, hang no more about me, I am no gibbet for you :—go.—A short knife and a throng :3—to your manor of Pickt- hatch,4 go.—You’ll not bear a letter for me, you rogue !—vou stand upon your honour !—Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much asI can do, to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I my- self sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce® your rags, your Cat-a- mountain looks, your red-lattice® phrases, and your bold-beatine oaths, under the shelter of your honour! You will not do it, you? Pist. I do relent; What would’st thou more of man? Enter Robin. Rob. Sir, here’s a woman would speak with you. (1) Pay you again in stolen goods. 2) Draws along with you. 3) To cut purses in a crow d. (4) Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell. (5) Protect. (6) Ale-house. NSbid | iad Qa OL IID ~ eee Pee CT ae clears ' eeFal. Let her upvroach. Ent r Mistre Ss Quik kly. Oui k. Give your worship eood-morrow. Fal. Good-m rrow, “ood wile. Quick. Not so, un’t please your worship. Fal. Good maid, then. Quick. Vil be sworn; as my mother was, the Fal. | do believe ¢ swearer: What with me? Muick. Shall | vouchsafe your worship a word Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I’]l vouch- Muick. ‘There is one mistress Ford, sir :—I pray, ome a little nearer this ways:—I myself dwell with master doctor Caius. Fal. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say,—— Murick. Your worship says very true : | pray your worship, f rie a little nearer lis ways. Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears ;—mine own people, mins own pe pi Quick. Are they so? Heaven bless them, and make them his servants ; Fal. We mistress Ford: what of her? Muick. Why. sir. she’s a good creature. Lord, lord ! your worship’s a wanton : Well, heaven for- Prive vou, and all of us, 1)! L\ Fal. Mistress Ford—come, mistress Ford. Quick \i irry, this 1s the short and the lonz’ of it: you have broucht her into such a canaries,! as %is wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when the court lav at W indsor, ould never have brought her to such a canary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, and oO" ntle men, with the ir coaches : I warrant you, coat h after coach, letter after letter, cift afte r cift - smelling so sweetly (all musk,) and . lA . © so rushline, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and (1) A mistake of Mrs. Quickly’s for quandary. Scene LT. OF WINDSOR. 187188 MERRY WIVES Act IT. in such alligant terms ; and in such wine and sugar of the best, and the fairest, that would have won any woman’s heart; and, iwarrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her.—I had myself twenty angels given me this morning: but I defy all angels (in any such sort, as they say,) but in the way of honesty :—and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners ; but, I warrant you, all is one with her. Fal. Butwhat says she to me? be brief, my good she Mercury. ; Quick. Marry, she hath received your letter ; for the which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you to notify, that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven ? Fal. Ten and eleven? @Muick. Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot! of ;— master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him; he’s a very jealousy man; she leads a very fram- pold? life with him, good heart. Fal. 'Ten and eleven ? Woman,commend me to her ; I will not fail her. Quick. Why, you say well: But I have another messenger to your worship: Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too ;—and let me tell you in your ear, she’s as fartuous a civil modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not miss your morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe’er be the other: and she bade me tell your worship, that her husband is seldom from home; but, she hopes, there will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote upon a man: surely, I think you have charms, la; yes, in truth. Fal. Not I, I assure thee: s¢ tting the attraction (1) Know. (2) Fretful, peevish.Scene IT. OF WINDSOR. 89 of my go : parts aside, I have no other « harms. sp wack. Ble ssing , On your heart for’t! ri ace | I iy thee, tell me this: has Ford’s wife, ead Page’s wife, a quainted each other how they lov: me: Wuick. That were a jest, indeed ‘—they have not so lit rrace, | hope :—that were a tric k, in- deed ! ut mistress Page would desire you to send he your little page, of all loves :1 her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page: and truly, master Page is an honest hl “Ne ver 5 wife in Windsor leads a better life than she doe Ss: l, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she list, 308 when she list t, all is ¢ he will: and hay he di carve for if there be a kind won 1 Windsor, she is one. You must send h or ul eh no rere Fal. Why, I will. Quick Nay, but do so then: and, look you, he may come and go between you both; and, in any case have a nay-word,? that you may know one another’s mind, and the be y never need to und r- stand any thing; for ’tis not good that children should know any wickedness: old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world. Fal. Fare thee well: commend me to them both: there’s my purse: I am yet thy debtor.— Boy, go along with this woman.—This news dis- tracts me! Exeunt Ges kly and Robin, Pist. This pun ik is one of C upid’ S Carriers :— Clay p on more sails; pursue, up with your fights ; Give fire; she is my prize, or ocean whelm thera all! [Hatt Pistol. Fal. Say’st thou so, old Jack? x0 thy ways ; I’ll make more of thy old body than I have done. Will they yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense of so much money, be now a gainer? By all means. 2) A watch-word.190 MERRY WIVES Act I. Good body, I thank thee : Let them say, ’tis gross- ly done; sc it be would fain speak with you, and be acq fairly ae. no matter. Enter Bardolph. Bard. Sir John, there’s one master Brook below uainted with you ; and hath sent your worship a morning’s dr aught of sack. Fal. Brook, is his name? Bard. AY sir. Fal. Call him in; [Ezt Bardolph. } Such Brooks are welcome to me, that o’erflow such liquor. Ah! ha! mistress Ford and mustress Page, have 1 encompass d you? go to; via /I Re-enter Bardolph, with Ford disguised. Ford. Bless you, sir. Fal. And you, sir: Would you speak with me? Ford. I m: ike bol« . tO press WwW ith so little pre- pars ation upon you. I ‘al. You’ re we le ome 4 ‘a hat’ s your will! 4 Give us leave, drawer. [ Exit Bardolph. Ford. Sir, | am a eentleman that have spent much : my name is Brook. Fal. Good master Brook, I desire more acquaint- ance of you. Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours: not to charge you; for I must let you understand, I think myself in better plight for a | nder rte you are: the which hath something enbolden’d me to this unseasoned intrusion; for they say, if money go before, all ways do lie open. Fal. Mink vy is a zood soldier, sir, and will on. Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me ; if you will help me to bear it, sil John, take all, or half, for easing me of the car riage. i (1) A cant phrase of exultation.Scene IT. OF WINDSOR. 191 Fal. Sir, I know not how | may deserve to be your p rer. , ? 1? 7 ® Ford. I will tell you, sir the he Wins. Fal. Speak, zood master Brook : I shall be glad to be your servant : ae you will give me Ford. Sir. I he ar you are a scholar,—I will be brief with you ;————-and you have been a man lone known to me. thouzh I had never so cood means, as desire, to mak myself acquainted with you, I s all discove ra thing LO you, where in [ must very much lay open mine own imperfection : but, 700d SII John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as vou hear them unfolded, turn another into the register of your own: that I may pass with areproot the easier, sith! you yourself know, how easy it is to be such an offender. Fal. Very VV € E Sir. proceed. i Ford. There is a rentiewoman in this town, her husband’s name is Ford. Fal. Well, sir. Ford. I have lone loved her. and, I protest to you, bestowed much on her; followed her with a doting observance ; engrossed opp rtunities to meet her; fee’d every slight occasion, that could but nigeardly oht of her: not only bourht many presents to rive her, but have given larcelv to many, to know what she would have oly n: br efly, | have pursued her, as love hath pursu d me: which hath be: n, on the wine of all occasions. But whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind, or in my means, meed,2 I am sv-e, [ have received none: unl ss experience be a jewel : that I have purchased at an infinite rate ; and that hath taucht me to Say 1 | } IS : Love like a shadow flies, when substance love pur- S7/e8 ¢ . 7 . ae - so o Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues, ee (2) Reward. » #I2 MERRY WIVES Act II. Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfac- tion at her hands? Ford. Never. Fal. Have you importuned her to such a pur- pose r Fe 07 -d. Ne ‘Ver. Fal. Of what qué ality was your love the on? 1h ln Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another Ve oe man’s ground; so that I have lost my edifice, by mistaking the place where I erected it. , Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded this | : to mer Ford. When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some say, that, though she appear honest fo me, yet, in ‘other places, she enlargeth her mirth so far, that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now, sir John, here is the heart of my purpose : You are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admit- tance,! authentic in your place and person, gene- rally allowed? for your many warlike, court-like, irae and learned pre parations. ee a Fal. O, sr! i Ford. Believe it, for you know it :-—There is Pel | money; spend it, spend it; spend more ; spend all I have ; only give me so much of your time in exchange of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford’s wife: use your art of wooing, win her to consent to you; if any man may, you Bi | may as soon as any. Pee | Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection, that I should win what you woul ld enjoy? Methinks, you prescribe to yourself very preposte rously. Ford. O, understand my drift! she dwells so securely on the exce llency of her honour, that He | the folly of my soul dares not present itself, she is ail | (1) In the greatest companies. (2) Approved.Scene IT. OF WINDSOR. 193 ight to be looked against. Now, could I come ith any detection in my hand, my desires ceand argument to commend themsely: 5 ve her then from the ward! of her purity, ion, her marri ige-vow, and a thousand defences, which now are too stronely against me; What say you to’t, sir ‘ ; laster Brook, I will first make bold with y3 next, give me your hand; and last, 1 gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy ‘ Brook, |] say you shall. mney, Sil John, you shall want mistress Ford, master Brook, you { shall be with her (I may tell intment; even as you came uit, or go-between, parted fram ve with her between ten and t time the jealous rascally knave, ill be forth. Come you to me at vou shall know how l spec d. Ford am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know P Fal. o him, poor cu koldly knave! I know him not :—yet I wrong him, to call him poor; they sa} » jJeal wittolly knave hath masses of money; for the which his ife seems to me well- favoured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rozue’s coffer; and there’s my harvest-home. Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir; that you nuzht avoid him, if you saw him. Fal. Hane him, mechanical salt-butter rorue ! [ will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel: it shall hang like a meteor o’er the cuckold’s horns: master Brook, thou shalt know, (1) Guard.[94 MERRY WIVES Ack Ji I will predominate o’er the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife.—Come to me soon at night :-— Ford’s a knave, and I will aggravate his stile ;! thou, master Brook, shalt know him fora knave and cuckold :—come to me soon at night. (Ext. Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this! 1B fel __My heart is ready to « rack with impatience.— 1p Who savs, this is improvident jealousy ° My wife 1 tah hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made. Would any man have thought this ?>—See et the hell of having a false woman ! my bed shall an be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation enawn at: and I shall not only receive this villa- nous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abomi- sable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Terms! names !——Amaimon sounds well; Lu- cifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they are devil’s additions, the names of fiends: but cuckold! wit- tol2 cuckold! the devil himself hath not such a | iii name. Pace is an ass, a secure ass; he will trust bit bib his wife, he will not be jealous : I will rather ita trust aFleming with my butter, parson Huch the 1 aati bt Welshman with my cheese, an Irishmen with my re Fal aquavite? b ‘ttle, or a thief to walk my ambline A a eelding, than my wife with herself: then she plots, ad then she ruminates, then she devises : and what Te they think in their hearts they may effect, they Pee will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for mj) jealousy '_Bleven o’clock the hour; I will prevent this, detect my wife, be re- FT | venred on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it: better three hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold ! cuckold . cuckold! (Eat. fb | (1) Add to his title. (2) Contented cuckold. (3) Usquebaugh.Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 19£ SCENE UT—Windsor Park. Enter Caius and Rueby, Caius. Jack Rugby! Caius. Vat isde « low k. Jac k? i ug. lis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro- mised to meet. ( a1us, By par, ne h iS save his soul, dat he Is no come; he has pray his Pible vell, dat he pra’ Is no come ; by gar, Jack Rugby, |} ie is dead alre ady, if : he knew, your worship would kill him, if he came. leo harsne Ya land ah ae : de herring is no dead, soas I vill] pier, Jack; I vill tell you Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. Caius. Villain-a, take your rapier. > ss ’ | i s. . Rug. Forbear: her s company. Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and Pare. Host. *Bless thee, bulls do tor. Shal. >Save you, master dor tor Caius. Page. Now od i master di ( tor! S/len. Give vou ¢ od-morrow, sir. Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for: Host. To see thes fic ht, to see thee foin,! to see thee traverss , to see thee he re, to see thee there ; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distanc e. thy mi ntant.’ Is he dea 1, my Ethi- opian’ is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully ! What says my ésculapius ? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is he dead, bul'y Stale? is he dead ? Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of the vorld; he is not show his face. (1) Fence. (2) Terms in fencing. 0) Oe N135 MERRY WIVES Act IT. Host. Thou art a Castilian! king, Urina: ! Hec- tor of Greece, my boy! Caius. I pray you, bear witness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. Shal. Heis the wiser man master doctor. he ts a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go arainst the hair of your pro- fessions: is it not true, master Page? Pace. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great firhter, though now a man of peace. Shal. Bodvkins, master Page, though I now be old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finver itches to make one: though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, master Page. Page. *Tis true, master Shallow. Shal. It will be found so, master Page. Master i iH doctor Caius, Iam come to fetch you home. I am it sworn of the peace; you have showed yourself a it wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself ERE a wise and patient churchman: you must go with ABD me, master doctor. a Host. Pardon, guest justice :—-A word, monsieur wa | Muck-water.? . Caius. Muck-vater! vat is dat? Host. Muck-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. Caius. By gar, then I have as much muck-vater as de Englishman :—Scurvy jack-dog priest ! by gar, me vill cut his ears. Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. I Caius. Clapper-de-claw ! vat is dat? Host. That is, he-will make thee amends. Hea | | Caius. By gar, me do look, he shall clapper-de- claw me; for, by gar, me vill have it. (1) Cant term for Spaniard. (2) Drain of a dunghill.Srene I. OF WINDSOR. 197 Host. And I will provoke him to’t, or let him wae. Cars. Mi tank you for dat. Host. And moreover, bully y,—But first, master fuest, and master Pave, and eke « avalero Slender, go you through the town to Froemore. | Astde to them. Page. Sir Huch is there. is he? Host. He is there: see and I wi it do well] ? Shal. We will do tt. Page, Shal. and Slen. Adieu, xood master doctor. Exeunt Pace, Shallow, and Sle nder. Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he Spe ak [or a jack-an-ape to Anne Pace. t what humour he is in: oe th A ee Ln aT < the doctor about by the fields : will Host. Let him die : but, first, sheath thy imna- tience ; throw cold water on thy choler: go about the fields with me throuzh Froemore: I will bring thee where Mrs. Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feasting ; and thou shalt woo her: Cry’d game, said ] well ? Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat; by gar, I love you , al [ shall pro ure -a you de eood fuest, de € irl, de knight, de lords, de srentlemen, my patie nts, : Host. For the which, I will be thy adversary to- wards Anne Page: said I well ? : Caius. By gar, tis ood: vell said. Host. Let us wag then. Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Exeunt ee ACT TIL SCENE [.—A field near Frogmore. Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. Eva. I pray you now, good master Slender’ ©198 MERRY WIVES Act Ii. serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of Phystc ? Sim. Marry, sir, the city-ward, the park-ward, every way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. Hi Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way. Sim. I will, sir. Eva. ’Pless my soul! how full of cholers I am, and trempling of mind !—I shall be elad, if he have Hh deceived me :—how melancholies [ am !—I will hi | Knog his urinals about his knave’s costard,! when I L | have good opportunities for the ork :—’pless my | soul ! [ Sings. To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds singe madrigals ; There will we make our peds of roses, Anda thousand fragrant posies. + T’o shallow——— Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry. Mi lodious birds sing’ madrigals — When as I satin Pahylon, And a thousand fragrant posies. T'o > hallow ni : ; : | Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh. Eva. He’s welcome ; To shallow rivers, to whose falls—— Heaven prosper the right !—What weapons is he? Sim. No weapons, sir: There comes my master, master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frog- more, over the stile, this way. ] Eva. Prav vou, give me my gown ; orelse kee va. Pray you, give me my gown ; orelse keep it in your arms. (1) Head. (2) Babylon, the first line of the 137th Psalm.Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 199 Inter Page, Shallow, and Slender. Shal. How now, master parson? Good morrow, good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is won- dertul. Sien. Ah, sweet Anne Page! Page. Save you, good sir Hugh! Eva. ’Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! Shal. What! the sword and the world! do you study them both, master parson ? : Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatic day? — Eva. There is reasons and causes for it. Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, Inaster parson Eva. Fery well: what is it? Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who at most odds with his own gravity and patience, belike, having received wrong by some_ person, is that ever you saw. Shal. I have lived fourscore years and upward ; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect. Eva. What is he? Page. I think you know him; master doctor Caius, the renowned French physician. Eva. Got’s will, and his passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of por- ridve. Page. Why? Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen.—and he is a knave besides ; a cowardly knave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal. Page. | warrant you, he’s the man should fight with him. Slen. O, sweet Anne Page! Shal. It appears so, by his weapons :—Keep them asunder :—here comes doctor Caius.MERRY WIVES Act III. Enter Host, Caius, and Rugby, Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon. Shal. So do you, good master doctor. Host. Disarm them, and let them question ; let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English. Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit vour ear: Verefore vill you not meet-a mer " Eva. Pray you, use your patience : In oood time. Caius. By ear, you are de cow ard, de Jack dog, John ape. Eva. Pray you, let us not be lauching-stogs to other men’s humours; I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends :— I will knog your urinals about your knave’s cogscomb, for missing your meetings and appoint- ments. Caius. Diable!—Jack Rugby,—mine Host de Jarti nvre. have I not stay for him, to kill him ? have I not, at de place I did appoint? Eva. As l am a Christians soul, now, look you, this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine host of the Garter. Host. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French and Welsh; soul-curer and body-curer. Caius. Ay. dat is very good! excellent ! Host. Peace, I say 3 hear mine host of the Gar- ter. Am I politic? amI subtle? aml a Machia- vel? Shall | lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions, and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? my priest? my sir Hugh? no; he gives me the 1 pro-verbs and the no-verbs.—Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so :—Give me thy hand, celestial; so. —Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue.—Come, lay their swords to pawn :— Follow me, lad of px ace: follow, follow, followScene I]. OF WINDSOR. 201 Shal. Trust me, a mad host :—Follow, gentle- men, follow. 4 Sten. O, sweet Anne Page ! | Exeunt Shal. Slen. Page, and Host. Caius. Ha : d ) l pe receive dat? have you make- a de sot! of us? ha, ha! E Eva. This is well: he has made us his vlouting- stor.2—I] desire yi you, that we may be friends: and : let US KNO®& our Drains lomethe r, to be revenge on this same scall, s urvy, Cogging companion, the host of the Garter. Catus. By rar, vit all my heart: he promise to bring me vere is Ann Page: by gar, he de- ceive me too. ad Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles :—Pray you, follow. [| Exeunt. SCENE II.—The Street in Windsor. Enter Mr . Pave and Robin. Mrs. Page. N ry, kee p your way, little gallant: you were wont to be a follower, but now you area leader: Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes, Or eye your mast r’s he ¢ Is? Rob. I had rather, fors ith, go before you like a man, than follow him like a dwarf. Mrs. Page. O you are a flattering boy ; now, I see, you'll be a courtier. Enter Ford. Ford. Well m t, mistress Page: Whither £o you ? ' Mrs. Pace. Truly, sir, to see your wife: Is she at home ? Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang togeth- er, for want of « ompany: I think, if your husbands were dead, you two would marry. (1) Fool. (2) Flouting-stock,.202 MERRY WIVES Act I. Mrs. Page. Be sure of that,—two other hus- hands. Word. Where had you this pretty weather-cock? Urs. Page. 1 cannot tell what the dickens his name is Mj husband had him of: What do you call vuour knigzht’s name, sirrah? 1B tel Roh. Sir John Falstaff. 1h Whe Ford. Sir John Falstatf! i Mrs. Page. He, he: 1 can never hit on’s name. There is such a league between my good man and he !—Is your wife at home, indeed? Ford. Indeed, she is. Vrs. Page. By your leave, sir ;—I am sick, till [see her. _ “Exeunt Mrs. Page and Robin. Ford. Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes? hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty miles, as easy as a Cannon will shoot point- Uae blank twelve score. He pi ces-out his wife’s in- {HFA clination: he gives her folly motion, and adyvan- i tare : and now she’s going to my wife, and Falstaff’s | Ht . boy with her. A man may hear this shower sing . in the wind !—and Falstaft’s boy with her !--Good plots !—they are laid: and our revolted wives share damnation together. Well; I will take him, then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming! mistress Page, di- vulve Pawe himself for a secure and wilful Acteon; and to these violent proces dings all my neighbours shall cry aim. Clock strikes.) The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search; there I shall find Falstaff: I shall be rather-prais- ed for this, than mocked; for it is as positive as the earth is firm, that Falstaff is there: I will go. | Ente Y. Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh He | Evans, Caius, and Rugby. Shal. Page, &c. Well met, master Ford. (1) Specious. (2) Shall encourage.Scene IT. OF WINDSOR. 203 Ford. Trust me, a good knot: I have ; none but thee; and thou di servest it. Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir; I fear, you love mistress Pave. , ; Fal. Thou might’st as well say, I love to walk by the Counter’-gate ; which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln. Mrs. Ford. Well, heaven knows, how I love you ; and you shall one day find it. Fal. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it. Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could not be in that mind. Rob. [ wethon. | Mistress Ford, mistress Ford ! here’s mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently. (1) Venetian fashions. (2) Formerly chiefly inhabited by druggists. (3) Prison.Bcene Ll. OF WINDSOR 207 é Fal. She shall not see me; I will ensconce! me Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so; she’s a very tat- tline woman.-—— Falstaff hides hims¢ ye q the arras.2 u Ent r Mistress Page and Robin. ry 7 ] 5 + V\ nat’s the matter ?’ how now sr Mrs. Page. O mistress lord, what have you done? You’re shamed, you are overthrown, you are undone for ever. | Mrs. Ford. What’s the matter, good mistress “ Wi Pace ©) We ll-a-day, mistre Ss Ford ! hay- in’ an honest man to your husband, to give him ! SUCT ‘ ilis¢ SUSNDIC] nm Mrs. Fi Mrs. Ps i re, What cause ol suspicion ?—Out 7 ; . 4 1. What cause of suspicion? / upon you: how am I mistook in you! Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! what’s the matter? Mrs. Page. Your husband’s coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search lor a gentleman, that, he says, is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of his absence. You are undone. M 5. Ford. D] eak loude r—f[. 1side.|—’ Tis not so, I he pe. JUrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you have such a man here: but ’tis most certain your husband’s ¢ oming, W ith half Windsor at his heels, to search for such aone. I come before to tell you: if you know yourself clear, why lam glad of it: but vey him out. Be notamazed; call all your senses to you ; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to if you have a friend here, convey, con- your good life for ever. Mrs. Ford. What shall I do?—There is a gen- tlernan, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own (1) Hide. (2) Tapestry.MERRY WIVES Act II. shame, so much us his peril: I had rather than a thousand pound, he were out of the house. Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand you had rather, and you had rather ; your husband’s here at hand, bethink you of some conveyance: in the house you cannot hide him.—O, how have you deceived me !—Look, here is a basket: if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here ; and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking: or, it is whiting-time,! send him by your men to Datchet Mead. Mrs. Ford. He’s too big to 50 in there : what shall I do? Re-enter Falstaff. Fal. Let me see’t, let me see’t! O let me see’t ! Pll in, Pil in ;—follow your friend’s counsel ;—I’ll in. rs. Page. What! sir John Falstaff! Are these your letters, knieht ? ' Fal. I love thee, and none but thee: help me away: let me creep in here; I’ll never— [He ¢ goes into the basket; they cover him with foul linen.) Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy : call your men, mistress Ford :—Youdissembling knight! Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John ! | Eevet Robin; re-enter Serr vants.| Go take up these clothes here, quickly; where’s the cowl-staff?2 look, how you drumble :3 carry them to the laun- dress in Datchet Me ad; quic kly, come. Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans. Ford. Pray you,come near: if I suspect with- out cause, why then make sport at me, then let ara aching: time. 2) A staff for carrying a large tub or basket. 3) Drone. (I ( (3Scene ITT. OF WINDSOR. me be your Ne st: | de serve it. FJ bear \ ou this P Sérv. To the laundress. forsooth. Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear jt? you were best meddle with buck. Wasnin Ford. Buck? [ would I could oe 209 OW now? whither 7 ‘wash myself of uCK, buck, buck? ay, bux k; I war- rant you, buck; and of the « son too, it shall ay» pear. |Eveunt S; rvants with the hasket. Gentle. men, | ive dreamed to-night; [ll tel] you my dream. Here, hi . re, here be my keys >: ascend my chambers, sear 1, Seek, find out: I’|l warrant, we’l| unkennel the fox So, I} WwW, une iC. Page. Good mast r Ford, be contented : you 00 much. : Let mi Stop this Way first :— wrone jy irself ft Ford. True, mastey Page.—Up, rentlemen: you shall see sport anon: follow me, gentlemen. Exit. nis is fery fantastical] humours, and jea- Caius. By gar, tis no de fashion of France: it is not 1 LiOusS IN France. Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen: see the is- Sue of Nis se irch. E'veunt Evans, Page, and Caius. Mrs. Page. Is there this ? Mrs. Ford. 1 know not which pleases me better that my husb und is dece ived, or sir John. Mrs. Pace. What a taking was he in, when your husband asked who2 was in the basket ! ' Mrs. Ford. 1 am half afraid he will have need of washing; so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit. Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal! ] would, all of the same strain were in the same dis tress, nota d uble e€Xce Ile ncy in ? (1) Unbag the fox (2) What.210 MERRY WIVES Stet TIT. Mrs. Ford. I think, my husband hath some spe- si ] cial suspicion of Falstaft’s being here; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now. Vrs. Page. [ will lay a plot to try that: And batt we will yet have more tricks with Falstafi: his dis- Hi solute disease will scarce obey this medicine. | Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion, ie mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing iN into the water; and give him another hope, to be- Ha tray him to another punishment ? a Mrs. Page. We'll do it; let him be sent for to- morrow eight o’clock, to have amends. Re-enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Six Hugh Evans. Ford. I cannot find him: may be the knave bragged of that he could not compass. Mrs. Page. Heard you that? Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace :—You use me well, master Ford, do you? Ford. AY; I do so. i i Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your ve b thouchts! Tee Ford. Amen. ik tI Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, teat master Ford. Ford. Ay, ay; I must bear it. E Eva. If there be any pody in the house, and in i the chambers, and in the coftfers, and in the paresses, | neaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment ! Caius. By gar, nor I too; dere is no bodies. PEE | Page. Fie, fie, master Ford! are you not ashatn- ed? Whatspirit, what devil suggests this imagina- tion? 1 would not heve your distemper in this kind, for the wealth of Windsor Castle. : Ford. *Tis my fault, master Page: I suffer for it. Bi | Eva. You sufler for a padconscience : your wife | is as honest a ’omans, as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred tuo. " Caius. By gar, I see ’tis an honest woman.Scene IV. Ford. Well con » WalK 1 d me this ( OF WINDSOR. 2a | ;—I promised you a dinner :—Come, n the park: [| pray you, pardon me: J will hereaft er make known to you, why I have me, wife 7 come, mistress Pave: I pray you } rd nme: pray he artily, pardon ine, In= tor { shall it De s Ford Ar Eva. | compal EB ‘a, \ | mockeries, SCENE I} FY nt He doth obje: And that, my I seek to heal Besides these My riots past, And tells me, ] shi uld love Anne. Via (s go in, gentlemen; but, trust me, m. Idoinvite you to-morrow morn- i 17ce f } use to breakfast; after, we'll a bird- [ have a fine hawk for the bush: there is one, I shall make two in the there be one or two, I shall make-a de teeth: for shame. u go, master Page, 1 now, remembrance to-morrow host. S&S mn is food: by rar, vit all my heart. usy knave; to have his gibes and his [Exeunt. L emacs room in Page's house. Enter n, and Mistress Anne Page. 4 I « innot eet thy father’s love: more turn me to him, sweet Nan. now then sr Why, thou must be thyself. t, [ am too ore at of birth : state being gall’d with my expense, tonly by his wealth: other bars he lays before me,—— my wild so if ties: *tis a thing impossible thee, but as a property, be, he tells vou true. Fent. No, heaven so sper d me in my time to ! Come . VOL. I.MERRY WIVES Albeit, I will confess, thy father’s wealth Was the first motive that I woo’d thee, Anne: Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more ve ilue Than ste amps in gold, orsums in sealed bags, And ’tis the ve ry riches of th lyse lf That now I aim at. Anne. Gentle master Fenton, Yet seek my father’s love: still seek it, sir: If opportunity and humble suit Paniat attain it, why then—Hark you hither. [hey converse apart, Enter Shallow, Slender, and Mrs. Quickly. Shal. Break their talk, mistress Quickly ; my kinsman shall speak for himse if Slen. V’ll make a shaft or a bolt on’t:! slid, ’tis but venturing Shal. Be not dismay’d. Slen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care not for that,—but that I am afeard. Quick. Hark ye; master Slender would speak a word with you. Anne. I come to him.—Thisis my father’s choice. O, what a world of vile ill-favour’d faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year [. bes Quick. And how does good master Fenton? Pray you, a word with you. Shal. She’s coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a father! Slen. I hada father, mistress Anne ;—my uncle can tell you good jests of him :—Pray you, uncle, tell mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle. Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. Slen. Ay, that 1do; as well as I love any woman in Glocestershire (1) A proverb—a shaft was a long arrow, and a bolt a thick short one.Scene IV. OF WIN] SOR. Shal. He will maintain you lil 1? . ; “ ¥ Slen Ay, that ] will, come c under the decre: of a squire, } | ~~ Sha - He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds } inture, r came. But what make you here i { Fal. What shall I do ?—I’ll creep up into the chimney. Mrs. Ford. : “he re the y alway S use to discharge their birdin r-pieces : creep into the kiln-hole. Fal. VW here 1s it? Mrs. Ford. He will seek there on my word, Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk. well, vault, but he hath an abstract! for the remembrance of such (1) Short note of.224 MERRY WIVES Act LF, places, and goes to them by his note: there is no hiding you in the house. Fal. Vil so out then. Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own sem- blance, you die, sir John. Unless you go out dis- gruised,— ” Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him ? Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know not. There is nO Woman’s gown big enough for him; other- wise, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a ker- chief, and so escape. Fal. Good hearts, devise something : any extre- mity, rather than a mischief. Mrs. Ford. My maid’s aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above. Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him; she’s as big as heis: and there’s her thrum’d hat, and her muffler too: run up, sir John. Mrs. Ford. Go, 7O, Sweet sir John: mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head. Mrs. Page. Quick, quick; we’ll come dress you straight : put on the gown the while. [Eat Fal. Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears, she’s a witch: forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her. Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband” cudgel; and the devil guide his cudgel after wards! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? Mrs. Pace. Ay, in good sadness,! is he; and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had in- tellicence. Mrs. Ford. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time. Mrs. Page. Nay, but he’ll be here presently (1 Seriousness. Eadcene IT. OF WINDSOR. 22: let’s go dress nim like the witch of Brentford. Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they hall d vent L. } } ‘ is ; . . . shall do with the basket. Go up, ('11 bring linen for him st went. Exit Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we Cannot misuse him enous h. Wi il leave a proof, by that which we will do Wives may be merry, and yet honest too : We do not act, that ofte n 1 St and lauch: er . | on | 4 ¢ : ,y . lis old but true , Still swine eat all the draff- r a | ° | Exit, 7 th, two servants. Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders; your master is hard at door: if he bid you set it down, obs y him: quickly, despatch. | Ext. 1 Serv. Come, come, take it up. z 2 Serv. Pray heaven, it bi not full of the knight sain. L Se rv. I ho} € nots | had as Lic f bear SO much Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, é ‘ ‘ f | . ? have you any way then to unfool me again ?—Set down the basket, villain: —Somebody call my wife :———You, youth in a basket, come out here ! —). you pand rly rascals! there’s a knot, a ging,! a pack, a conspiracy against me: now shall the de vil be shame d. What! wife, | Say ! come, come forth: behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleac hinge. Page. Why, this passes ;? Master Ford, you are not to zo loose any longer; you must be pin- ioned (1) Gang. (2) Surpasses, to go beyond bounds. ae ee ly OT226 MERRY WIVES Act IV. Eva. Why, thisis lunatics ! this is mad as amad do! Shal, Indeed, master Ford, this is not well; indeed. Enter Mrs. Ford. Ford. So say I too, sir.—Come hither, mistress Ford: mistress Ford, the honesi woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband !—I suspect without cause, mistress, do I? Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, you suspect me in any dishone sty. Ford. Well said, brazen-face ; hold it out. Come forth, sirrah. Pulls the clothes out of the basket. Page. This pi isses ! Mrs. Ford. Are you not eshamed? let the clothe Ss alone. Ford. I shall find you anon. Eva, "Tis unreasonable ! Will you take up your wife’s clothes? Come away. ford. Empty the basket, I Say. Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why,— Ford. Master Page, as Iam aman, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket : Why may not he be there again? In my house I am sure he is: my intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable: Pluck me out all the linen. Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea’s death. Page. Here’s no man. Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford; this wrongs you. Kiva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is eulousies,. Ford Well, he’s not here I seek for.Scene IT. OF WINDSOR. 6 27 Page. No, nor no where else, but in your brain. Ford Help to search my if I find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity, let me for ever be your tab] le-sport: let them say of me, As jealous as Ford, that search’d house this one time: j i] : "9 ’ ‘6 4 hollow walnut for his wife’s leman.! Satisfy me once more; once more search with me. Mrs Ford. V\ if hoa, mistress Pace ! come you, and the old woman down: my husband will come into t chamber. Ford. Old wo nan! What old woman’s that? ; Urs. Ford. W 1y, it Is my maid’s aunt of Brent- ford. Ford. A witch. a quean, an old cozeninge quean! Hav. [ not { her my house r one comes of errands, a Ss sner We ar simple men; we do 1ot know what's br ugcnt to pass under the profes- sion of fortune-te &, She works by charms, by spells, by the fi , and such daubery as this is: beyond our element: we know nothing.——Come down, you witch, you hag you; come down, | say. Mrs. Ford. Nay. zood sweet husband :—good rpentiemen, let him not strike the old woman, t Enter Falstaff in women’s clothe $. led by Mrs. Pace. Mrs. Page. Come, mother Pratt, come, give me your hand Ford. V\l prat her:——Out of my door, you f witch! [beats him.] you rag, you bageage, you pol cat, you ronyon !2 out! out! [ll conjure you, | ll fortune-tell you [Fe vit Falstaff. Are you not ashamed? I think, you have kil!’d the poor woman. Vrs. kor i. N iV, he VW ill do it cme! 19 a goodly credit for you. Ford. Hang her, witch! Eva. By yea and no, I think, the ’oman is a . ul — — + (1) Lover. (2) Scab. VOL. I. r228 MERRY WIVES Act IV. witch indeed: I like not when a ’oman has a grea peard; I spy a great peard under her muffler. Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow; see but the issue of my jealousy : if I cry out thus upon no trail,! never trust me when I open? again. Page. Let’s obey his humour a little further Come, gentlemen. [ Ex. Page, Ford, Shal. and Eva Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not: he beat him most unpitifully, methought. Mrs. Page. V\l have the cudgel hallowed, and hung:o’er the altar; it hath done meritorious service. Mrs. Ford. What think you? May we, with the warrant of womanhood, and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge ? Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared outof him; if the devil have him not in fee- simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again. Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him ? Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means ; if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husband’s brains. If they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the ministers. Mrs. Ford. (\l warrant, theyll have him pub- licly shamed : and, methinks, there would be no period to the jest, should he not be publicly shamed. Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, shape it: I would not have things cool. {Eveunt. SCENE ITT—A Room 172 the Garter Inn En- ter Host and Bardolph. Bard. Sir, the Germans cesire to have three ov (1) Scent. (2) Cry out.Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 229 your horses : the duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him. Host. What duke should that be, comes so secretly ? I hear not of him in the court : Let me speak with the centlemen ; they speak English ? Bard. Ay, sir; I'll cal] them to vou. Host. T ey shall have my horses: but I’ll make them p iy, I'll sauce them: they have had my house a week at command: I have turne daway my other : they must come off; I'll sauce them : Come. | Exeunt. SCENE IV.—A Room in Ford’s House. Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Sir Hugh Evans. Eva. Tis one of the pest discretions of a ’oman as ever I did |, ok upon. Page. And did he « nd you both these letters at an instant ? Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour. Ford. Pardon me thou wilt: » Wife: Henceforth do what I rather will suspect the sun with cold, Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour Stand In him that w is of late a he relic, As firm as faith, Page. "Tis well, ’tis well ; no more. Be not as éxtreme in submission, As In olfence But let oul plot oO | rward one. ou, Sir, Was’t not the wise! woman y, marry, was it, muscle -shell; What would you with hers Sim. My master, siz he r, Seein her fo thro whether one Nym, sir, that be cuiled him of a chain, had the chain Or no. » my master Slender, sent to hn the streets, to know, sir, Fal. I spake with the old wom in about it. Sim And What Says she . | pray . sir ? Fal. Marry, she says. that the ve ry same man that becuiled master Slender of his « hain, cozened him of it. Sim. [ would, I could have spoken with the woman herself; I had other thine to have spoken with he l Fal. What are they? let us know, Host. Ay Sam. | Inay not conceal the in, SIT. » COTMC, CUICK, Fal. Conceal th m, or thou diest. Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about mistress Anne Page: to know,yif it were my mas- ter’s fortune to have her, or no. Fal. ’Tis, ’tis his fortune. Sim. What, Sir f Fal. To have he ous fold me so. Sim. May I be so bold to say so, sir? Fal. Ay , sir Tike; who more bold? r no: Go; say, the woman (1) Cunning weman, a fortune-teller.234 MERRY WIVES Act IP Sim. I thank your worship: I shall make my master glad with these tidings. [Lait Simple. Host. Thou art clerkly,!.thou art clerkly, sir John: Was there a wise woman with thee? Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host; one that hath taught me more wit than ever I learned be- fore in my life: and I paid nothing for it neither. but was paid for my learning. Enter Bardolph. Bard. Out, alas, sir! cozenage ! meer cozenage ! Host. Where be my horses ? speak well of them, varletto. Bard. Run away with the cozeners ; for so soon as | came beyond Eton, they threw me off, from hehind one of them, in a slourh of mire: and set epurs, and away, 'ike three German devils, three Doctor F'austuses. Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, vil lain: do not say, they be fled ; Germans are honest men. Enter Sir Hugh Evans. Eva. Where is mine host ? Host. What is the matter, sir? Eva. Have a care of your entertainments : there is a friend of mine come to town, tells me, there is three cousin Germans, that has cozened all the hosts of Re adings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook of horses and money. I tell yeu for a good-will look you: you are wise, and full of gibes ané vlouting-stoes ; and ’tis not convenient you shoula be cozened: Fare you well. | Extt Enter Doctor Caius. Caius. Vere is mine Host de Jarterre ? (1) Scholar-like.Scene V OF WINDSOR. 23: ‘ 1 Host. Here, master do tor, in perplexit,, and doubtful dil: mmnia. Carus. { cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a me, dat ycu make vrand or paration for a duke de 1 Jarman, UY my trot, dere 1s no duke, dat the court Is know to come; I tell you for 200d vill : adieu. Exit. Host. Hue and « ry villain, go :—assist me, knight: [am undone fly, run, hue and cry, vil- lain! I am undone! [Exeunt Host an 1 Bard ph. Fal. I wou 1, all the we rid micht be « Ozene d; for | have been cozen’d and bh. alten too If it should come to the e% ol th court, DOW | have been } transformed, and my transformation hath een washed and ¢ ivelled, they would melt me out of my fat, d by drop, and liquor fishermen’s boots with me; | warrant, they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear. I never prospered since I forswore myself at Primero.! Well. if my wind we re but long enough to say my prayers, I would ré pent.— Enter Mrs. Quickly. ‘ : Now! whence come vou Our k i mm the two parti 5. forsi oth. Fal. ‘l’he devil take one p irty, and his dam the other, and so they shall be both bestowed! I have suffered more for their sakes, more, than the vil lanous inconstancy of man’s disposition is able to bear. Quick. And have not they suflered ? Yes, I Warrant; speciously one of them; mistress For I, good heart, is beaten black and blue, that you can- not see a white spot about } : Fal. What tell’st thou me of black and blue? I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rain- bow, and I was like to be apprehended for the ic (1) A game at cards. aMERRY WIVES Act IV. witch of Brentford; but that my admirable dex- te rity of wit, my counte rfe iting the action of an old woman, deliver’d me, the knave constable had set me 1’ the stocks, i’ the common stocks, for a witch. Quick. Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber: you shall hear how thines <0; and, | warrant, to your content. Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good hearts, what ado here is to brine you together! Sure, one of you does not serve heaven well, that you are so crossed. Fal. Come up into my chamber. [Exeunt. SCENE VI.—Another Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Fenton and Host. Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me: my mind is heavy, I will give over all. Fini, Yet hear me speak : purpose, And, as I am a gentleman, [’I| five thee A hundred pounds in gold, more than your loss. Host. I will hear you, master Fenton: and [ will, at the least, kee })) your counsel. Fert. From time to time I have noone d oon With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Pae Who, mutu: lly, ‘i ith answer’d my aftec tion (So far forth as herself might Even to m\ o I have e ] I Assist me in my be h cr choose r. a letter from her Of such conte! ts as you will wonder at: The mirth ohsbent so larded witl That neither, singly, can be manifest. a: Without the show of bot} 1 ;—wherein fat Falstatf Hath a great scene: thei image of the J st [Showing the letter. Hark, ‘good mine h my matter, ll show you here at large. host : To-night at Herne’s oak, just ’twixt twelve and one, Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen ;Scene FV]. OF WINDSOR. est The purpose why While ot er 7 eu ests are something rank on foot, Her father |} ilhi ¢ mmand Il nertos 1) Away with Slender, and with him at Eton Immed ileliy to . } N hath consente 1: ow, s Her mother, eve 1strone arainst that match, And firm r doctor Catus, hath ; ppointed a Vise shuitie he} away, While o sports are tasking of their minds, And at th ry, Where a priest attends, Straicht i r: to this her m ther’s plot she, se¢ n I if, likewise hath promis yt tor: w, thus it rests Her fathe, Irie 5 SI ; “He shail De all In white: And in tl Dit, when Slender sees his time > tal, her by the ] nd and | d her go, She sha vi m her mother hath intended. The bette LO aden e€ her to the doc lor, For they mus | be mask’d and vizarded.) That. Quaint In green, she s| il] be lo sé enrob’d, With rioOdands p ndant, fla: nz ’bout her head : And when the doct rsples his vantagve ripe : yee ¥ pinen he DY t and and, on that token, r v a he maid hath eiven « Host. Which m leans she to decy ive? father or ynsent to go with him. Ir they 4 ‘ or ca - wit , Fent. Both, my goor host, to go alone with me: And here it rests.—1} it you'll procure the vicar To stay for me at church, ’twixt twe lve and Jne, And, in the lawful nam of marrying, To give our hearts u l liltead ceremony. Host. Wi Zw 4 isband your device; [’ll to the Vicar; i Brine L, aid. + bce 2ring& you the maid, you snall Fent. So shall I evermore i not lack a priest. be bound to thee; ? oa 1] j P : : [EF : t Besides, PII make a present recompense. | 4 LEUNT, (1) ‘n the letter. (2) Fantastically.MERRY WIVES Act V. ACT V. SCENE I.—A Room in the Garter Inn. Enter Falstatt and Mrs. Quickly. Fal. Pry’thee, no more prattling ;—go. Il] hold:! This is the third time: I hope, eood luck lies in odd numbers. Away, go; they say, there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.——Away. Quick, Vill provide you a chain; and I’]] do what I can to get you a pair of horns. Fal. Away, I say; time wears: hold up your head, and mince. [Hatt Mrs. Quickly. Enter Ford. How now, master Brook ? Master Brook, the mat- ter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the Park about midnight, at Herne’s oak, and you shall see wonders. Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed ? Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man: but I came from her, master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave Ford her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, master Brook, that ever governed phrensy. I will tell you.—He beat me grievous- ly, in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of , man, master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a wea- ver’s beam; because I know also, life is a shuttle. [am in haste; go along with me; I’ll tell you all, master Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and whipped top, | knew not what it was to be beaten, till lately. Follow me: I'll tell yor strange things of this knave Ford: on wham to (1} Keep to the time.Scene IT, ITT. OF WINDSOR. 239 night I will be reveneed, and J will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow: Strange thines in hand, master Brook! follow. | Exeunt. SCENE i—_—H "7 ndsor Park. Enter Page, Shal- low, and Sk nder, Page. Come. com : we’ 2 ll couch i? the castle. ditch see the light of our fairies—Remem- ber, s pe d my d uchter sien. Ay yrsooth: I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word,! how to know one another. [ come to her in whit , and « ry, mum; she cries, budget ; and by that we | is not drown’d :—What think you, Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved. Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, May he be Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with chap Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you, and that poor number saved with you, Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in pr ril, bind himself (Courage and hope both teaching him the prac lLicé T ” o a strong mast, that lived upon the sea; Where, like Arion on the d [phin’s back, [ saw him hold a quaintance with the waves, So lone as I could see. Vio. For saying so, there’s gold: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Wheret » th speecn serves for authority, The like of him. Know’st thou this country ? Cap. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born, Not three hours’ travel from this very place. Vio. Who coverns here! Cap. A noble duke, in nature, As in his name. Vio. What is his name ? Cap. Orsina Vio. Orsino! I have heard my father name him He was a bachelor then. Cap. And so is now, Or was so very late; for but a month Ago | went from hence; and then ’twas fresh In murmur (as, you know , What great ones do, The less will prattle of,) that he did seek The love of fair Olivia. Vio. What’s she? Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count { na 1 | S i iH] ti | i256 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act Fr That died some twelvemonth since; then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shorily also died: for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjur’d the company And sight of men. Vio. O, that I served that lady ; And might not be delivered to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is. Cap. That were hard to compass ; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke’s. Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character. I pray thee, and I’ll pay thee bounteously, Conceal me what I am: and be my aid For such diseuise as, haply, shall becorne The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ; Thou shalt present me as a eunuch to him, [t may be worth thy pains; for I can sing, And speak to him in many sorts of music, That will allow! me very worth his service. What else may hap, to time I will commit; Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see ! Vio. I thank thee: lead me on. | Exeunt, SCENE ITT.—A room in Olivia’s house. En- ter Sir ‘Toby Belch, and Maria. Stir To. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? ] am sure, care’s an enemy to life. (1) Approve.Scene ITT. WHAT YOu WILL. 257 Mar. By troth, sir Toby, you must come in earlier o’ nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. Sir To. Why Mar. AY; Dut you must confine yourself within the mod st limits of order. ; , let her exc ept before excepted. Str 7'o. Confine ? Pll confine myself no finer than [am : these clothes are good enouch to drink in, and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. Mar. That juafing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and ‘of a foolish knight, that you brought in one night here, to be her wooe! Sir T'o. Who? Sir Andrew Acue-cheek ? Var. AY, h Str T’o. He’s as tall! a man as any’s in Illyria. Jar. What's that to the purpose ? j Str To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. Mar. Ay, but he’ll have but a year in all these ducats; he’s a very fool. and a prodigal. i Sir To. Fie, that vou’ll sav so! he plays o’ the viol-de-camibo, and speaks three or four lanzuages word for word without bi ok, and hath all the good filts of nature. Mar. He hath, inde 5 besides that he’s a fool, he’s a creat quarreller {—almost natural: for and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the rust he hath in quarrelling, ’tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a yrave. ~ Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and substrac tors, that say so of him. Who are they ? Mar. They that add moreover, he’s drunk night- ly in your company. ' Sir T’o. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my (1) Stout.258 TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, Act l throat, and drink in Illyria: he’s a coward, and a coystril,! that will not drink to my niece, till his brains turn o’ the toe, like a parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; for here comes sir An- drew Ague-face. Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby Belch? Sir T'o. Sweet sir Andrew ! Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. Jar. And you too, sir. Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. Sir And. What's that? Sir T'o. My neice’s chamber-maid. Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. Mar. My-name is Mary, sir. Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost,_——. Str T'o. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front her, board her, woo her, assail her. Sir And. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen. Str To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, ’would thou might’st never draw sword again. Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand ? Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. Six And. Marry, but you shall have; and here’s my hand. Mar. Now, sir, thoucht is free: I pray you bring your hand to t] ’ ie buttery-bar, and let it drink. Sir And. Wherefore, sweetheart? what's your metaphor ? : Mar. It’s dry, sir. (1) Keystril, a bastard hawk.Scene ITT. WHAT YOU WILL. 259 Sir And. Why, I think so: Iam not such an ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what’s your jest? Mar. Ad J I st, sir. : Sir And Are you full of them ? “Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my f marry, now fingers’ ends: [ let ox your hand, I am barren. Exit Maria. Str T'o. O knight, thou lack’st a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down? : Str And. Never in your lif you see canary put me down: , I think: unless j methinks, sorme- times I have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but lam a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my wit. sir T'o. N ) question. Sir And. AnI thought that, P’d forswear it. T’l] ride home I morrow, sir Toby. mr l'o. P rquoy, my dear knieht? Sir And. What is pourguoy? do or not do? I would [ } 1 best wed that time in the tongues, that I have in fen Ing&, dancing, and bear-baiting : O, had I but followed the arts! Sir T'o. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. Str And. Why, would that have mended my hair? Sir To. Past qu stion; for thou seest, it will not curl by nature. Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does’t not ? Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a dis- taff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee be- tween her legs, and spin it off. Sir And. ’Faith, Pll home to-morrow, sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it’s four to one she’ll none of me: the count himself, here hard by, woos her. Sir To. She’ll none o’ the count: she’ll not match above her dezree, neither in estate, years, nor wit: I have heard her swear it. Tut, there’s life in’t, man. VOL. 1. erana Satan Sheena na mn meme ee em areca. emp 3 ¥ 260 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act 2 Sur And. V’ll stay a month longer. I ama fe. low o’ the strangest mind i’ the world: I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Str T'o. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight ? Str And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the deeree of my betters ; and yet I will not compare with an old man. Sir T'o. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Sir And. ’Faith, I can cut a caper. Str T'o. And I can cut the mutton to’t. Str And. And, I think, I have the back-trick, simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Sir T'o Wherefore are these things hid? where- fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are they like to take dust, like mistress Mall’s picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water, but in a sink-a-pace.! What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a ealliard : Sir And. Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent well ina flamie-coloured stock.2 Shall we set about sorne revels? Swr T'’o. What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? Sir 4nd Taurus? that’s sides and heart. Str Z'o. No, sir; it is lezs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha !—excellent ! [ Exeunt. SCENE IV.—A room in the Duke's palace. Enter Valentine, and Viola in man’s attire. Val. If the duke continue these favours towards (1) Cingue-pace, the name of a dance. (2) Stocking,Scene IV’. WHAT YOU WILL. 261 you, Cesario, you are like to be much he hath known you but three dacs you ar‘ no stranger. Vio. You either sence, that you cal] advanced ; , and already fear his humour, or my negli- in question the continuance of his love: is he ine onstant, sir, in his favours ? 0, believe me. Enter Duke, Curio, and att. ndants. Vio. I thank you. Duke. Who saw Vio. On your attendance, my lord: here. Dr . stand uu awhile aloof. "1 . . s e < Here comes the count, Cesario, ho? —§( i sario, t no | but all; I have unc lasp’d Ix ¢ ven Ol my secret soul : nerefore, good youth, address thy gait! unto her; B leny’d access. stand at her doors, mn, there thy fixed foot shal] STow, itl thou have audience. Vio Sure, my noble lord, bandon’d to her sorrow never will admit me. Duke. B clamorous and | ss leap all civil bounds, Rather than mak unprofited return. iy, I do speak with her, my lord; what inen: Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love, Sur} rise he r with aiscourse of my dear faith : [t shall become thee well to act My woes; She will attend it better in thy youth, Th in in anuncio of m re oray e asper e Vio. I th nk not s my lord. Duke. Dear lad, believe it; For they shall vet belie thy happy years That say, thou arta man: Diana’s lip Is not mort smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe Is as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman’s part. (1) Go thy way.262 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act I [ know, thy constellation is right apt For this affair:—Some four, or five, attend him; All, if you will; for I myself am best, When least in company :—Prosper well in this, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine. Vio. I'll do my best, ‘To woo your lady: yet [ Aside.] a barful! strife! Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife. “ [Exeunt. SCENE V.—A room in Olivia’s house. Enter Maria and Clown. Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide asa bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged n this world, needs to fear no colours. Mar. Make that good. Clo. He shall see none to fear. Mar. A good lenten? answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of, J fear no colours. Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? Mar. In the wars: and that may you be bold te say in your foolery. Clo. Well, God give them wisdom, that have it : and those that are fools, let them use their talents. Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long absent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mai riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. Mar. You are resolute then ? Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on two points. (1) Full of impediments. (2) Short and spare.Scene V. Mar. That, if one break,! the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. WHAT YOU WILL. 263 Clo. Apt, in good faith : very apt! Well, go thy way ; if sir — voul Id leave ‘drinking, thou wer? as witty a piece of Eve’s flesh as any in Illyria. Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that; here comes my lady: make your excuse ore you were be St, | Exit. Enter Olivia and Malvolio. t, an’t be thy will, put me into good fool- ing! Those wits, that think the y have thee, do ve ry oft prove fools; and I, that am sure ] ack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what < ays Quinapa- lus? Better aw itty fool, than a foolish wit. God } ! ] ! bless thee, lady ! Olt. Take the foo] away. Clo. Do you not hea , fellows ? take away the lad Oli. Go to, you are a dry fool; I’ll no more of you : besides, you STOW dishonest. ~ Clo. Two faul Its, madonna,? that drink and rood counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, hen is the fool not dry ; bid the dishonest mend ' himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest: if he cannot, let the botcher mend him: any thing, that’s mended, is but patched: virtue, that trans- gresses, is but patched with sin: and sin, that amends, is but p 1tched with virtue: if that this sim- ple syllogism will serve, so: if it will not, what re- medy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty’s a flower:—the lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her aw ay. Olt. Sir, I bade them take aw; ay you. /o. Misprision in the highest degree '—Lady, (1) Points were hooks which fastened the hose or preeches. (2) Italian, mistress, dame.264 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act I Cucullus non Jacit monachum ; that’s as much as to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good ma- donna, give me leave to prove Olt. Can you do it? Clo. Dexterously, ’o00d madonna. Oli. Make your proof, Clo. I must catechize you for it youa fool. » madonna ; good ny mouse of virtue, answer me. ‘Oh. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. Clo. Good madonna, why mourn’st thou? Olt. Go d fool, for my brother’s de ath. Clo. I think, his soul js in he Olt. I know his soul is in Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul being in heaven.—Take away the fool, eentlemen. Ol. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend ? Mal. Yes: and shall do, till the I shake him: infirmity, that d ever make the be tter fool. Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for ll, madonna. heaven, fool. janes of death ecays the wise, doth the better incr asing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn, that I am no fox: word for two-pence that you are no fool. Olt. How say you to that, Malvolio? Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool, brain than a stone. guard already but he will not pass his that has no more Look you now, he’s out of his y: unless you laugh and casion to him, he is Saree wise minister oc- l. I protest, I take these men, that crow so at thes: set kind of fools, no better than the fi ols? Zaniesg, | Ok. O, you are sick of self-love., Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those (1) Fools’ baubles,Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 265 things for bird-bolts,! that you deem cannon-bul- lets: there is no ete rin an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail: nor no railing ina known discreet man, though ES do nothing: but re prove. Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with le vasing’ 2 for thou speakest well of fools! Re-enter Maria. Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen- tleman, much er sires to spe ak with you. Ole. From the count Odie. is it? Mar. I know not, madam; ’tis a fair young man, and well attended. Olt. Who of my people hold him in del: iy? Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. Olt. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks no- thing but madman: fie on him! [ Exit Maria.|} Go you, Malvolio ; if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or notat home; what you will, to dismiss it. Exit Malvolio.) Now you see, sir, how your fool- ing rows old, and people dislike it Clo. ‘Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should bea fool: whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here he comes, one of thy kin, has a most weak pia mater.® Enter Sir Toby Belch. Oli. By mine honour, half drunk.—What is he at the rate, cousin ! Sir Zo. A gventlem: in. Ol. A gentleman? What gentleman ? Sir To. ’Tis a gentleman here—A plague 0’ the S¢ pit kle-he rrings !__ How now, sot ? ( Yo. Gor d sir Toby, Ol. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy ? (1) Short arrows. (2) Lying. (3) The cover of the brain.266 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, -. Act I. Sir T'o. Lechery ! I defy lechery: there’s one at the gate. Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he? Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not. give me faith, say 1. Well, it’s all one. 3 [ Eatt. Oli. What’s a drunken man like, fool ? Clo. Like a drown’d man, a fool, and a mad- man: one draught above heat makes him a fool ; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. Olt. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit 0’ my coz; for he’s in the third degree of drink, he’s drown’d: go, look after him. Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. { Eat Clown. Re-enter Malvolio. Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swearshe will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady ? he’s fortified against any denial. Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. Mal. He has been told so: and he says, he’ll stand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the Supporter of a bench, but he’ll speak with you. li. What kind of man is he ? Mal. Why, of man kind. Olk. What manner of man? Mal. Of very ill manner: he’ll speak with you, will you, or no. Olt. Of what personage, and years, is he? Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy ; as a squash is before ’tis a peas- cod, or a codling when "tis almost an apple: ’tis with him e’en standing water, between boy and man, He is very well-favoured, and he speaksILE Poe ee i plier oO erie atcsapere IID, RTA te A i Ny oom, rere ltr SES EEEEe oma , AY \ 5 y ‘ N N \ aan \ ‘ ‘ ‘ \ «Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 26" very shrewishly; one would think, his mother’s milk were scarce out of him. Oli. Let him approach : callin my gentlewoman. Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. | Hawt Re-enter Maria. Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o’er my ace: We II once more he ar Orsino’s € mbassy. Enter Viola. Vio. The honourable lady of the house, whick Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty.—I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady of the house. for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech: for, besides that it is excel- lently well penn’d, 1 have taken great pains to con a 4 | beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very moptible,! even to the least sinister usage. Oli. Whence came you, sir? Vio. I can say little more than I have studied, and that question’s out of my part. Good gentle one, @1ve in modest assurance, if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. _ Are youa comedian? Vio. No, mv profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house ? Olg. If 1 do not usurp myst lf, I am. Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp vourself: tor what is vours to bestow, is not yours But this is from my commission : I will il on with my speech in your praise, and then show y ie 10 reserve. you the heart of my message. (1) Accountable.268 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act I. Oli. Come to what is important in’t : you the praise. Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical. Oli. It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray you keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my gates: and allowed yourapproach, rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be fone ; if you have reason, be brief: ’tis not that time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping a dia- lorue. “Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? } Vio. No, eood SW abber : ] tle longer.—Some sweet lady. Oli. Tell me your mind. Vio. I am a messenger, Ole. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your otfice. Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I forgive iere lies your way. am to hull here a lit- mollification for your giant,! I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold the olive in my hand : as matter. Olt. Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would rour. Vio. The rudeness, that hath appear’d in me, have I learn’d from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, aré as secret as maidenhead: to your ears, diy Inity ; to any other’s, profanation. Olt. Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [ Exit Maria.] Now: sir, what is your text? Pro. Most sweet kady ‘ ' Olt. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? Vio. In Orsino’s bosom, Olt. In his bosom ? my words are as full of peace In what chapter of his bosom ? (1) It appear s from several parts of this play, that the original actress of Maria was very short.Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 269 } Vio. To answer by the method, in the frst of his neart. Oli. O, I have read it: it is he resy. Have you no more lo say: Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. Olk. Have you any comm ssion from your lord to negociate with my face’ you are now out of your text but we will draw the « urtain, and show you the pictur wok you, sir, such a one as I was this present s’t not well done ? Unveiling. Vio. Exce ntly done, if God did all. Oli. *Tis in grain, sir; *twill endure wind and | Vio. *Tis beauty truly blent,2 whose red and Vature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on: , Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive, lf you will lead these eraces to the grave, And leave the world no copy. Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will rive out divers schedules of my beauty : it shall be nventoried; and every particle, and utensil, la- belled to my will: as, item, tw » lips indiffe rent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, n { h n, and SO forth. V\ ere you sent hither to ’praise me Vio. see you what youare : you are too proud ; sut. if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you; O, suchlove Could be but recompens’d, though you were crown’d The nonpareil of be uty ! Olr. ' : How does he love me? Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, With wroans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. Oli. Your lord does know my. mind, I cannot leve him: Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, (1) Presents. (2) Blended, mixed together. \ eagene —prenare ery TRS aR aera a DIME Eee a 270 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act J Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulg’d,! free, learn’d, and valiant, And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him; He might have took his answer long ago. Vio. If I did love you in my master’s flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial [ would find no sense, I would not understand it. Oli. Why, what would you ? V0. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house ; Write loyal cantons? of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; Holla your name to the reverberate? hills, Aud make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me. Olt. You might do much: What is your parent age? Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I ans a gentleman. Oli. Get you to your lord ; I cannot love him: let him send no more ; Unless, perchance, you come to me again, To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. V0. Lamno tfee’d post,4 lady ; keep your purse ; My master, not myself, lacks recompense, Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love; And let your fervour, like my master’s, be Plae’d in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Eait Olt. What is your parentage ? Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: (1) Well spoken of by the world. (2) Cantos, verses, (3) Echoing, (4) Messenger.WHAT YOU WILL. 271 Scene I. [ama gentleman.—l'l be sworn thou art ; hy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon :'—Not too fast :-— ir es soit! soft Unless the master were the man.—How now ? Even so quickiy may one catch the plague ? Methinks, I feel this youth’s perfections, With an invisibl and subtle ste alth, To creep in a mine eyes, Well, let it be.— What, ho, Maly lio !— Re -enter Malvol 10. Mal. Here, madam, at your service. Oli. Run after that same peevish messenger, ‘The county’s? man: he left this rine behind him, Would I. or not: tell him, ’ll none of it. Desire him not to flatter, with his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: f that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I’ll give him reasons for’t. Hie thee, Malvolio. Mal VI | i. [ will. { hit. Ol. 1 dol know not what: and fear to find Mine eve too great a flatterer for my mind. e: ourselyes we do not owe :3 Fat What is decreed, must be; and be this so! [ Eavt. Ay ( snow tb LO ACT II. SCENE [L—The sea-coast. Enter Antonio and Sebastian. Ant. Will youstay nolonger? nor will you not, that I go with you? Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine darks - A 7 (1) Proclamation of gentility. (2) Count. (3) Own, possess.Din TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act JI. ly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound. Seb. No, ’sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. ButI perceive in you so ex- cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express! myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sx bastian, which I called Rodorigo ; my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom [ know, you have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, *would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for, some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned. Ant. Alas, the day ' Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beauti- ful: but, though I could not, with such estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with salt water, thouch I seem to drown her remem- brance again with more. Aint. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. Alnt. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. Seb. Uf you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not.. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness ; and I am yet so near the manners of my (1) Reveal.Scene I]. WHAT YOU WILL. 295 mother, that upon the least occasion more, 1nine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino’s court: farewell. Exit Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with [ have m iny en¢ mies in Orsino’s court, Else would I very shortly see thee there : But, come what may, | do adore thee SO, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [ Exat. SCENE 1I—A street. Enter Viola: Malvolio following. Mal. Were not you even now with the countess Vio. Even now, sir: on a moderate pace I have /Wal. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thine more: that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report vou rd’s taking of this. Receive it so. Pio. She to < the rine of me: I’ll none of it. Mal. Come, sir, you pee vishly threw it to her; and her w is, it should be so returned: if it be worth st there it lies in your eye ; if not, be it his that finds it Fatt. Vio. I left no rine with her: what means this Fortune forbid, mv outside have not charm’d her! She ma le ¢ { view of me; inde ¢ d, SO much, That. sure, methougeht, her eyes had lost her For she did s arts distracte dly. She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion , Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord’s ring ! why ' he sent her none [ am the man ;—1i! it be so (as ‘ts,)oe 274 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR,: Act Lf. Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Discuise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant! enemy does much. How easy is it, for the proper-false? In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we; For, such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge ?3 My master loves her dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ; And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me: What will become of this! As | am man, My state is desperate for my master’s love; As I am woman, now alas the day ! What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ? O time, thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to untie. (Exit. SCENE III.—A room in Olivia’s house. Enter Sz ‘Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere, thou know’st,—— Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late, is to be up late. Sir J'o. A false conclusion: I hate it as an un- filled can: to be up after midnight, and to xo to bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed after mid- night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of the four elements ? Sir And. Faith, so they say; but, I think, it rather consists of eating and drinking. Sir J'o. Thou arta scholar: let us therefore eat and drink.—Maria, I say! a stoop of wine! Enter Clown. Sir And. Here comes the fool, i’faith. (1) Deyterous, ready fiend. 9) Dain Gioior 3) Suit (<) Fair deceiver. (3) Suit.Scene HT. WHAT YOU WILL. 275 Clo. How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of we three?! : sur To. We l¢ ome, ass, Now let’s have a catch. Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast.2 I had rather than forty shillings I had such ; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pizrogromitus, of the \ plans passing the cquinoctial of Queubus ; (was very good, i’faith. I sent thee sixpence for Clio. | did impeticos thy eratillity ;4 for Malvo- lio’s nose is no whipstock : my lady has a white h ind, and the my rmid ns are no bottle -ale houses. Sir And. Excellent ! Why, this is the best fool- ine’, when a Ss d me, Now, ‘a sone, Sir Z'o. Come on: there is sixpence for you: Sir And. There’s a testril of me too: if one knight ive a = Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of ur cL \ ve-sone,. a love-si ne. Sir /ind. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. SONG. Clo. () ) potre Ss mane mse ré areé you roaming 2? () lay and h ar; your true love’s coming, Tih it can 9nNL hoth high and low e Ty iLO fy ? thas ry] re tty sweeting ; Jour ICUS e771 / in lo Me rs’ meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know. Sir . ln f. Ex ellent food, faith. Sir tO: Good, rood. Clo. What is love ? ‘tis not hereafter , Present mirth hath present laughter ; (] \ T oro rheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistr«se (4) I did impetticoat thy gratuity. VOL. I. i.276 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Ae? II. What's to come, is still unsure : In delay there lies no ple nty ; L'hen come kiss me sweet-and-twenty, Youth’s a stuff will not endure. And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight Sir T'o. A contagious breath. Stir And. Very sweet and contagious, i’faith. Str Z'o. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con- tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance! in- deed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch. that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shal] we do that? Str And. An you love me, let’s do’t: Iam dog at a catch. Clo. By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. Sir And. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou knave. Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I shall be constrain’d in’t to call thee knave, knicht. Ser And. ’Tis not the first time I have constrain’d one to call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins, Hold thy peace. Clo. I shall never b egin, if | en my peace. Sir And. Good, i’faith ! Come, erin. (7 fs ey sing a catch. Enter Maria. Mar. What a catterwauline do you keep here ! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvo- lio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. Str To. My lady’s a Cataian,2 we are politicians ; aa lvolio’s a Peg-a-Rarnse y,s and Three merry men e be. Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her (1) Drink till the sky turns round. (2) Romancer (3) Name of an old song.Scene ITT. WHAT YOu WILL. 2t7i blood ? Tilly-valley,1 lady ! There dwelt aman wn Babylon, lady. lat ly ! Singing. ’ T> . , S Clo. Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable Sir And Av, he does well « nough, if he be dis- posed, and so do I too; he does it a a better fFrace, but [ do it more natural, sir To. UY, tre twelfth day of December,— [Singeng. Mar | or the love ol God, pe ace. Enter Malvolio. Mal Vy masters re you mad? or what are your Have you no Wilt, Manners, nor honesty, but to ora e like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye niake an al house of my lady “A house, that ye s « squeak out your coziers’2 catches without a ny miti- gation or remorse of voice Ff Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time, in you? Sir Fo. We did k ep time, sir, in our catches. sneck up! Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady D d me tel] vou, that, though s she harbo urs you as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to your dis- ord rs. If you can separate yourself and your mis- demeanors, you are welcome to the house ; if not, an it would piease you to take leave of her, she 13 very willing to bid you farewell. Sir To. Farewell. dear heart, since I must needs be rone. Mar. N 1V, fOOd sir Toby. Clo. His « ves do show his days are almost done. Mal. Is’t even so? Sir To. But Twill never die. Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. Mal. This is much credit to you. Sir T ». Shall I bid him vo? (Singing. i (1) Equivalent to Sully Sally, shally shally. Cobblers. (3) Hang yourself.278 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, . Act I. Clo. What an if you do? Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not ? Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not. Sir To. Out o’ time? sir, ye lie—Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth too. Sir T'o. Thou’rt i’ the right.—Go, sir, rub your chain! with crums :—a stoop of wine, Maria! Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s fa- your at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule ;2 she shall know of it, by this hand. [ Hatt. Mar. Go shake your ears. ; Sir And. ’Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man’s a hungry, to challenge him to the field; and then to break promise with him, and make a fool of him. Sir To. Do’t, knight; I'll write thee a chal- lenge: or ’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. ; Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night ; since the youth of the count’s was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur Mal- volio, let me alone with him: if I do not cull him into a nay-word,? and make him a common recrea- tion, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know [ can do it. Sir T'o. Possess us,’ possess us ; tell us some- thine of him. Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu- ritan. Sir And. O, if I thought that, I’d beat him like a doe. Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exqui- site reason, dear knight? (1) Stewards anciently wore a chain. (2) Method of life. (3) By-word. (4) Inform us.Scene IT]. Sir And. Ihave no « xquisite reason for’t, but I have reason good enouch. Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing y but a time-pleaser; an affectioned! ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by creat ths :- the best persuaded of hims: If, so cram- med, Ss he tl nks, with excellence ies, that it is his ground of faith, that all that look on him, love him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find nota- bli Cause to work. : . “ir To. What wilt thou do? Mar. I will d )p in his way some obscure epis- rein, by the colour of his beard y te shape of his les, the manner of his gait, the ex- pressure of his eye, forehead, and compl: xion, he self most feeling], personated : I can write very like my lady, your niece : on a forgotten matter we can hardly make austin tion of our hands lo ACE lent! | smell a di vice, hav’t in my nose too. lo. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they com irom my niece, and that she 1s In iove Vv th him. Mar. My 1 urpose is, indeed, a horse of that Sir And. And your horse now would make him Jar. Ass, I doubt not. Sir And. O, ’twill be admirable. Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you: IT know, my physic will work withhim. I will plant you two, and let the fool mak a third, where he shall find the letter ; observe his construction of it. For thig night, to bed, an dream on the event. Farewell. ' Exit. Sir T’o. Good night, Penthesilea,3 A flected. The row of grass left by a mower l 2 3 Amazon. WHAT YOU WILL. 279280 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act II. Sir And. Befure me, she’s a good wench. Sir To. She’s a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: What o’ that? Sir Ana. I was adored once too. Sir T’o. Let’s to bed, knight.—Thou hadst need send for more money. Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, lama foul way out. Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou has: her not i’ the end, call me Cut.! Sir And. If I donot, never trust me, take it how you will. Sir T'o. Come, come; I’ll go burn some sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight ; come, knight. [Eaeunt. SCENE IV.—A room in the Duke’s palace. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. Duke. Give me some music: Now, good mor- row, friends :— j Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night; Methouenht, it did relieve my passion much . More than lizht airs and recollected terms, Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :— Come, but one verse. Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it. Duke. Who was it? Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord: a fool, that the ady Olivia’s father took much delight in: he is about the house. Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. (Ext Cario.— Music. Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me: For, such as I am, all true lovers are; (1) Horse.Unstaid and skittis} 1 in all motions e lse, Save, i t the constant image of the Phat is beloy’d. —How dost thou like this tune? Vio. It fives a very echo to the seat Whe re love s tl iron d. Duke. Thou d | creature st speak masterly : My life upon’t. young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay n some favour! that it loves ; Hath it not, boy? Vio. tal little, by your favour. Duke. What kind of woman is’t ? Vio Of your complexion. Duke. She is not worth thee th n. What years, Vfaith? Vio. About vour years, my lord. Duke. Tooo d, by heaven ; Let still the woman An elder than herself: so we: ars she to him, S0 swa’/s she level in her husband’s hear rt. For, ‘OY, however we do praise oOurse lves, Our fancies ar more giddy and unfirm, cine’, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than womea’s are. Vio [ think it well, my lord. Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent : For women are as ros s; whose fair flower, Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour. Vio. And so they are: alas, that they re SO ; l'o die, even when they to perfection grow Re-enter Curio, and Clown. Duke. O f 1 come, the song we had last night :— Mark it, Cesario: it is old and plain : Che spinsters and the knitters in the sun, 4nd the free maids, that weave their thread with bone 8,° (1) Countenance. (2) Lace makers. Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 281282 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act IL. Do use . chaunt it; it is silly sooth,! And a ies with the innocence of love, Like the oF age Clo. Are you re rene sir! Duke. Ay ; pr’ythee, sing. { Muste SONG. Clo. Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid , Fly away, fly away, breath ; Iam slain by a for cruel mavd. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare wt; My part of death no one so true Did share tt. Nota flower, not a flou er sweet, On my black Cc offin let there be strow n; Nota friend, not a Friend greet My poor corpse, w here my bones shall be thr own ; A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover ne’er find my grave, T'o weep ‘there. Duke. There’s for thy pains. Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. Duke. Vil pay thy pleasure then. Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee ; and the tailor make thy dou slet of changeable taf- fata, for thy mind is a very opals—I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their busi- ness might be every thing, and thei ‘ir intent every where: for that’s it, that alw ays ; makes a rood voyage of nothing. —Farewell. (Exit Clown. (1) Simple truth. (2) Times of simplicity. (3) A precious stone of all colours.Scene IV WHAT You WILL. 283 Duke. Let all the rest vive place.—_—_ | Exeunt Curio and attendanis, Once more *y Cesario, same sovereien cruelty Tell ner, my love » More noble than ae W venltt izes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestoy a Get thes to yon’ upon her, Tell her, I hold as ciddily as fortune But *tis that mi racle, and queen of gems, That nature 1 ranks! her in, attracts my eal Vio. But, if she « annot love you, sir? Duke. I cannot be so sient Vio. ’Sooth, S ty, that some lady, as, pe rhaps, the re is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia - you cannot love her: AUT You tell her so: \ust she not then be answer’d but you must, Duke. There IS NO Woman’s sides, Can ’bide the be ating of so strong a passion As ove doth give my heart: no woman’s heart » ' » big, to hold so much: th y lack retention. \ las, their love may be ¢ all’d appetite,— » motion of the liver, but the palate, That suffer surf it, cloyment, and re welts Bu: mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much: make no compare Between that love a woman can be ar me, And that ] OW ¢ Olivia Vio. Ay, but I know,— Duke. What dost thou bat P Vio. Too well what love women to men may OV € In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a d neater lov’d a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, [ should your edge. Duke. And what’s her history ? Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love (1) Decks.i + k i { fa Hil | Hl Wy ae ta i HH wate Bh N ia) : ai A . tt ih Hi i . it bo N Ti, Fao j \ 5 : 234 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, . Ac IL But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pin’d in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed, Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love. Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father’s house, And all the brothers too ;—and yet I know not :— Sir, shall I to this lady ? Duke. Ay, that’s the theme. To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay.! | Eaxeunt. SCENE V.—Olivia’s Garden. Enter Sir Toby Belch, Siz Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian. Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. Fab. Nay, V’ll come ; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. Sir To. Would’st thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some nota- ble shame? Fab. | would exult, man: you know, he brought me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-bait- ing here. Sir Tio. To anger him, we'll have the bear avain; and we will fool him black and blue :— Shall we not, sir Andrew ? Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. Enter Maria. Sir Too. Here comes the little villain :—How now, my nettle of India. Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Mal- volio’s coming down this walk; he has been yon- (1) Denial.Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 285 “ es th SUN, practising behaviour to his own sacow, this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery ; for, I know, this letter wil] make acon templative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting ! I'he men hide themselves.) Lie thou there; | throws down a letter) for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. | ait Maria Enter Malvolio. Mal. _ E ~ | ut fortune: al] is fortune. Meria once told me, she did affect me: and I have heard is near, that, should she fancy,! it — / should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses i more exalted respect, than any one else that follows her. What should I think on’t? sir Lo. Here’s an over-weenine rorue ! Fab QO, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him ; how he jets? under his advan Sir And. ’Slirht, I could so beat the rogue :— sir To. Pea e, I say. Mal To be count Malvolio !— ser T'o. Ah. r oye ! Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir To, Peace , Deace ! Mal. There is example for’t; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir And. ie on him, Jezebel! Fab. O, peace! now he’s deeply in; look how imagination blows? him! Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,4— Sir To. O, for astone-bow, to hit him in the eye! Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branch- ed velvet rown: having come from a day-bed,§ where I left Olivia sk eping. ) (1) Love. (2) Struts. (3) Puffs him up. ‘A) State-chair. (5) Couch, . 4 \236 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act II. Str To. Fire and brimstone! Fab. O, peace, peace ! Mal. And then to have the numour of state: and after a demure travel of regard,—telling them, I know my place, as I would the 2y should do their’s —to ask for my kinsman Toby: Sir T'o. Bolts and shackles ! Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Mal. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: JI frown the while: and, perchance, wind up my watch, or pli Ly with some rich jew el. Tobyay pproac hes; court’sies there tome: Str To. Shall this fellow live? Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yel peace Mal. I exte na my hand to him thus, que snching my familiar smile w ith an austere re ‘ard of control : sur T'o. And does not Toby take you a blow o’ the lips then : Mal. §S ay ng, Cousin Toby, my fortunes havi ing cast me on your niece, give me this $ prerogative of speech :-— Sir Tio. What, what ? Mal. You must amend your drunkennes sir To. Out, scab ! Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. Mal. Besides, you waste the treasure of your tinve with a Soolish knight ; Sir And. That’s me, I warrant you. Mal. One sir. lndres.: Sir And. | knew; *twas I; for many do call me fool. : Mal. What employment have we here ? [ Taki ung up the letter. Fab. Now is the woodcock near the ein. Str To. O, peace! and the spirit of humours in- timate rea ding sng to him! Mal. By my life, that is my lady’s hand : these be her very C’s, e r U’s, and her 7s; and thusScene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 287 makes she her or eat P’s. It is, in contempt of que suion, ner hand. Sir And. Her C’s, her U’s, and her 7s: Why thatr ; Mal reads\| To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes: he rvery phrases ! By your leave, wax.— soft '—and the impressure her Luc rece, with which she uses to seal: ’tis my lady: Te whom s d this be P : i Fab. This wins him, liver and all. Mal. {reads} Jove knows, I love: But who ? lips do not move, JN 0 man must know. /Vo man must know.—What follows? the numbers altered '—.Vo man must know :—if this should be Sir T’o. Marry, hang thee, brock !1 Nl Nog l ( n mand, where I adore : But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With 0dless stroke my heart doth M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. Fab. A fustian riddle! ie Sir Tio. Excellent wench, say I. Jal. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.—Nay, bus first, let me see, let me see,—let me see. Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him“ Sir To. And with what wing the stannyel rnp * gore 1 checks? at it ! Mal. [ may comm ind where I adore. Why, she may command me; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstrnction in this;—And the end,—What should tha. alphabetical position portend? if I could make that resemble something in me,— Softly ! , 0, A, 1l— Sir To. O, ay! make up that :—he is now at a ‘old scent. (3) Flies at it. (1) Badger. (2) Hawk.ee banat || i Mantel tl | i [ il + il Al HT 288 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act ZI. rab. Sowter! will cry upon’t, for afl this, mough it be as rank as a fox. Mal. M,—Malvolio ;—M,—why, that begins my name. ‘Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults. Mal. Z,—But' then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation : A should follow, but O does. Fab. And O shall end, I hope. Stir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry. U. Mal. And then I comes behind : Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels, than fer- tunes before you. Mal. M, O, A, J;—This simulation is not as the former :—and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose.—I7 this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee ; but be not afraid of greatness: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have great- ness thrust upon them. Thy fates open thewr hands ; let thy blood and spirit embrace them. Jind, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough,2 and appear fresh. Be op- posite with a kinsman, surly with servants : let thy tongue tang arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of singularity: She thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say remember. Go to; thouart made if thou desirest to be so: uf not, let me see thee a steward still. the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, Lhe fortunate-unhappy , (1) Name ofa hound. (2) Skin of a snake.Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 28 Day-light aud ( hampian! dis¢ overs not more: this isopen I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle si; loby, I will wash off gross ac- quaintance, l will be point-de-vi e,? the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for eve ry reason ex ites to this, that my lady loves mie She did ce mme nd mv ve llow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered: and in this she manifests he rself to my love, and, with a kind of in} nction, drives me to these habits of her liking [ thank my stars, I am happy. [ will be strange, stout, in yellow stoc kings, and cross- gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on, Jove, Al i my Stars De praised '__Here is yveta post- script. ic canst not choose but know who lam. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; t/ smiles become thee well: ther: fore mn my presence st mile, dear my sweet, I pr’ythee. Jove, I thank thee [ will smile; I will do every thine that thou wilt have me. | Exit. Fab. I will not give my part of this sport fora pe nsion of thousar ds to be paid from the Sophy. Str T’o. I could marry this wench for this de- vl eS. Sir And. So could I too. Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but such another jest. Enter Mania. Sir And. Nor I neither. Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck ? Sir And. Or o’ mine either ? Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, ? and become thy bond-slave Sir And. Vfaith, or I either. Sir T'o. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream (1) Open country. (2) Utmost exactness (3) A boy’s diversion three and tin. ran in nenernnsiencanterineimireimeeesinscieans. ihHeit ali |i Hl hf ( j i ht Beet LE ih \ Hl |i | EP i | a ai iy a | 1 Pann |B) a HI fl i if , | 290 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act III that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. Mar. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him? Sir T'o. Like aqua-vite with a midwife. Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tis a colour she abhors: and cross-gartered, a fashion she de- tests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will see it, follow me. Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel- lent devil of wit !— Sir And. I'll make one too. [ Exeunt. — ACT TH. SCENE I.—Olivia’s Garden. Enter Viola, and Clown with a tahor. Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost thou live by thy tabor? : Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. Vio. Art thou a churchman? Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the church: for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. | j V0. So thou may’st say, the king lies! by a beg- gar, if a bergear dwell near him: or, the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church. , : (vo. You have said, sir.—To see this age !—A sentence is birt a cheveril? glove to a good wit; How quickly the wrong side may be turned out- ward! (1) Dwells (2) Kid.Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 291 Vio. N iy, that’s certain : they, that dally nicely with words, m Ly qui kly make them wanton. Clio. | would therefore, my sister had had ne Vio. Why, man? Clo. Why, sir, her name’s a word: and to dally with that word, micht make my sister wanton: But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds Vio. Thy reason, man ? Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words: 1 words are grown so false, I am loath with them. Vio. | warrant, thou art a me rry fellow, and Clo. Not so, sir, 1 do care for something: but in my conscien e, sir, | do not care for you; if that be to care for n thing, sir, | would it would make Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia’s fool ? Clo. No, indeed, sir: the lady Olivia has no folly : she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married: ind fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband’s the biewer: I am, indee d, not her fool, but her corrupter of words. Vio. | saw thee late at the count Orsino’s. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool shoul 1 be as oft vith your master, th my mistress: I think, I saw your wisdom there Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with the Hold, thers Ss expenses for thee. Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send the a beard! Vio. By my troth, Ill tell thee; I am almost sick for one: thoueh I would not have it row on my chin. Is thy lady within? Clo. Would not a D ur of these have bred, sir? Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. VOL. |. ar292 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, . “cé IJ. Clo. I would play lord Pandarus! of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cre .ssida to this Troilus. Vio. I understand you, sir; ’tis well beee’d. Clo. The matter, | hope, is not great, sir, beg- ging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, ait. ' will construe te them whence you come : who you are, and what you would, are out of my we lkin : I might say, element; but the word is over-worn. (Mate. Vio. This fellow’s wise enough to play the f. /, And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard,2 check at every feather That comes before his eye. ‘This is a practice, As fu } of labour as a wise man’s art: For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit; But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague che ek, Sir To. Save you, gentleman. Vio. And you, sir. Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. Vio. Et vous aussi: votre serviteur. Sir And. I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. : : Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she is the list? of my voyage. Sir T'o. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. : : ; Str T'o. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrapre (1) See the play of T'rotlus and Cressida. (2) A hawk not well trained. (3) Bound, linitScene I. WHAT YOU WILL But we are prevent d. Ent r Olivia and Maria. Most excellent: odours on you! Sir And. That youth’s a rare courtier! Ran odours! well. Vio. Vy matter hath 7 Own Mm .ccomplished lady, the heavens rain 10 voice, la ly, but to your nant! and vouchsafed ear. : OUTS, pregnant, and vouchsafed — I'll vet? n all three ready. : rarden door be shut, and leave me EL ini Sir Give mnie ur nan Vio. My duty. m idam, and most humble service. IS your namer Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. sir iO is your servant's name, fair princess. . . » ern int, sir! ’T'was neve rmerry world, Since lowly feignine was all’d compliment: You are servant to the count Orsino, youth. Pio. \nd he is yours, and his must needs be int’s sé rvant is your servant, madam. him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, VV, 1] 1 ¢] v wer blanl I Ma Remember who commended: i] y yellow Ole. Thy yellow stockings? } os ] j Mea /in wished to see thee cross-carté red, () ( [ 3” irtere d 4 \] i | (. lO: t/ Vv art made, uf thou destrest to dye Oi? \m I made? : : 1 lf not, let me see thee a servant stall. Oa. V hy, this is very midsummer madnegs.! Ent r rvant. Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the count Orsino’s is returned; I could hardly entreat him iCK ( ittends yi ut ladyship’s pleasure. Ole. Vill come to him. Exit Servant.) Good M iria, let this fellow be look« d to. Where’s my { sin 7 yi Let some of In} people havea spe- cial care of him; I would not have him miscarry for nall of my d VI'y Eze. Olivia and Mar. The Mal. Oh, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than sir Poby to look to me: This con- curs directly with the letter: she sends himon pur- pose, that | may appear stubborn to him; for she Cast the humble slough, says she: be oppo ele with a kinsman, surly with servants, et thy tongue tanga with argu- ments of state, put th yself into the trick of Si7l- gularity ;——and, consequently, sets down the incites me to that in the letter. ) (1) Hot weather madness,a Trees 302 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act JU. manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. 1 have limed her ;! but it is Jove’s doing, and Jove make me thankful! And, when she went away now, Let this fellow be looked to: Fellow !2 not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together; that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance,— What can be said? Nothing, that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian. Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Le- gion himself possessed him, yet [’ll speak to him. _ Fab. Here he is, here he is :—How is’t with you, sir? how is’t with you, man? Mal. Go off; I discard you; let me enjoy my private; go off. Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not I tell you?—Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. Mal. Ah, ha! doesshe so? Sir To. Go to, go to; peace, peace, we must deal gently with him; let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is’t with you? What, man! defy the devil: consider, he’s an enemy to mankind. Mal. Do you know what you say ? Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not be- witched! Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I’ll say. (1) Caught her as a bird with birdlime. (2) Companion.Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 303 Mal. How now, mistress? Mar. O lord! Sir To. Pr’ythee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: Do you not see, you move him? let me alone . with him. Fa No way but gentleness : cently, gently: | the fiend is rough, and will not be rourhly used. i Str T'o. Why, how now, my bawcock?! how t dost t] yu, chuck ? i Mal. Sir? [| Stir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! fi tis not for gravity t ) play at cherry-pit? with Satan : Ht Hang him, foul collier is i] Mar. Get him to say his prayers ; good sir Toby, Li get him to pray. Piaget Mal. My prayers, minx ? iy! Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of (3 yy less, a Mal. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle (fe shallow things: I am not of your element; you ia shall know more hereafter. { Ext. th sir Jo. Is’t possible P He} Fab. If this were pl iyed upon a stage now, I le could cond mn it as an improbable fiction. i Sir 7'o. His very genius hath taken the infection f i of the device, man. fale i, Mar. Nay, pursue him now; lest the device take air, and taint. (ip Fah. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. Ete Mar. The house will be the quieter. hi Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, He) and hound. My niece is already in the belief that bil he is mad; we may carry it thus for our pleasure, is and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of er breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which Hits : . . ec his time, we will bring the device to the bar, and i vel (1) Jolly cock, heau and coq. i (2) A play among boys. j (3) Colliers were accounted great cheats. ;304 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act JL. crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. ‘ab. More matter for a May morning. Sir And. Here’s the challenge, read it; I war- rant, there’s vinegar and pepper in’t. Fab. Is’t so saucy ? Sir And. Ay, is it, lwarrant him: do but read. Sir To. Give me. [ reads. | Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow. Fab. Good, and valiant. Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason fort. Fab. A good note: that keeps you from the blow of the law. Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly : but thou lest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for. Fab. Very bri f, and exceeding good sense-less. Sir To. I will way-lay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me, Fah. Good. Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and avillain. Fab. Still you keep 0’ the windy side of the law: Good. Sir To. Fare thee we ll ; And God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thy- self. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy. Andrew A gue-chi ek. Sir To. If this letter moves him not, his legs cannot: [ll give’t him. Mar. You may have very fit occasion for’t: he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. Sir To. Go, sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff : so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a terWHAT YOU WILI. 305 rivie vath, with a swaggering accent sharply i, gives manhood more approbation roof itself would have earned him. Sir And. N iy, let me alone for swearing. [Ex ir L’o. Now will notI deliver his letter : for the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out I De [og 1 Capacity and bre eding: his employ- wea : n his lord and my niece confirms no ess re this letter, being SO excellently To n reed no terror in the youth, he will find it comes fi m a clodpole. But, sir, I will de liver his « enge by word of mouth: set upon Li iyi ial Ague-cheek a notable report of valour: and drive t . the gentleman (as, I know, his youth will aptly re- | most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them Doth, that they will kill one another by the LOOK, like CocKatrices., Enter Olivia and Viola. Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give them way, tll he take leave, and presently after Eixeunt Str ‘Toby, Fabian, and Maria. Oli. I have said too much unto a he art of stone honour too unchary! out : T here’s someth ne in me, that reproves my fault ; Put such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks re proof, Vio. With the same “haviour that your passion bears, Go on my master’s griefs. Oli. Here, wear this Jewel for me, ’tis my pic- ture ; Refuse it not, it hath no tonrue to vex you: (1) Uncautiously.306 TWELFTH-NIGHT; ‘OR, Act LZ. And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny ; That honour, sav’d, may upon asking give? Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my master. Ol. How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you? Vio. I will acquit you. Ol. Well, come again to-morrow: Fare thee well ; A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. [ Ez. Re-enter Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian. Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. Vio. And you, sir. Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to’t: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard end: dismount thy tuck,! be yare? in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly. Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath any quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man. Sir To. You’!l find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnis} man withal. Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he? Sir Tio. He is knight, dubbed with unhacked rapier, and on carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he divcrced three; and his incensement at this mo- ment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none (1) Rapier. (2) Ready.Scene IV. VHAT YOU WILL. 307 but by pangs of death and sepulchre: hob, nob, is his word; give’t, or take’t. Vio. I will return again into the house, and de- sire some conduct of the lady. I amno fighter. [ have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike, his is a man of that guirk.! Str T'o. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself "a very competent injury; therefore, get you on, and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me, which with as much safety you might answer him. therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked ; nf « OU OF % for meddle you must, that’s certain, or forswear to wear iron about you, Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is; it is something y negligence, nothing of my purpose. i Sir T’o. I will doso. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [Exit Sir Toby. Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? Fah. I know, the knight is incensed against you, of even to a mortal arbitrement ;? but nothing of the cir Imstance more. Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite? that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria: will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him, if I can. Vio. I shall be much bound to you for’t: I am one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [Ezxeunt. (1) Sort. (2) Decision. VU U (3) Adversary.308 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act IL Re-enter Sir Toby, with Sir Ardrew. Sir To. Why, man, he’s a very devil; I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in,! with such a mortal motion, that it is in- evitable ; and on the answer, he pays you? as sure ly as your feet hit the ground they step on: they say, he has been fencer to the Sophy. Sir And. Pox on’t, I’ll not meddle with hirn. Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified : Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. Sir And. Plazue on’t; an I thought he had been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I’d have seen him damned ere I’d have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I’ll give him my horse, grey Capilet. Sir sh l’ll make the motion: stand here, niake a xood show on’t: this shall end without the per- dition of souls: marry, I'll ride your horse as well as [ ride you. [ Aszde. Re-enter Fabian and Viola. I have his horse [to*Fab.] to take up the quarrel ; I have persuaded him, the youth’s a devil. Fab. He is as horribly conce ited3 of him; and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his hee Is. Sir To. There’s no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for his oath sake: marry, he hath better bethoucht him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow ; he protests, he will not hurt you. Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much [ lack of a man. [ Asede. (1) Stoccata, an Italian term in fencing. (2) Does for you. ) Horrid conception.Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 309 Fab. Give eround, if you see him furious. Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there’s no remedy ; the gentleman will, for his honour’s sake, have one bout with you: he cannot by the duello! avoid it; he has promised me, as he is a rentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Comeon: to’t. Pray God, hy keep his oath! | Draws. E’nter Antonio. Vio. I do assure you, ’tis against my will] | Draws, Ant. Put up your sword ;—If this young gen- tieman Have done offence, I take the fault on me: [f you offend him, I for him di fy you. |Drawing. wr T’o. You, sir? why, what are you? Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do Than you have heard him brag to ycu he will. Sir Zo. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you, | Draws Enter two Officers. 4 Fab. O good sir Toby, hold; here come the offic ers. Sir T'o. Vl be with you anon. {Z'o Antonio. Vio. Pray, sir, put up your sword, if you please. [Z'o Sir Andrew. Sir And. Marry, will T, sir ?’—and, for that | Jromised you, I’ll be as food as my word: He will bear you easil , and reins well. 1 Of. This is the man: do thy office. 2 Off: Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit Of count Orsino. Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 1 Off. No, sir, no jot ; I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.— Take him away ; he knows, I know him well. (1) Laws of duel. | fel 4 A Ved bale ibs if ifs if i i wea ,310 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act LL Ant. I must obey.—This comes with seeking you’ But there’s no remedy ; I shall answer it. What will you do? Now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse: It grieves me Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz’d ; But be of comfort. 2 Off. Come, sir, away. Ant. I mustentreat of you some of that money. Vio. What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have show’d me here, And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I’ll lend you something: my having is not much; I’ll make division of my present with you: Hold, there is half my coffer. Ant. Will you deny me now ? Is’t possible, that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man, As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you. Vio. , I know of none; Nor know I you by voice, or any feature : I hate ingratitude more in a man, Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, Or any taint of vice, wause strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood. Ant. O heavens themselves * 2 Off: Come, sir, I pray you, go. Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here, I snatch’d one half out of the jaws of death; Reliev’d him with such sanctity of love, And to his image, which, methought, did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 1 Off: What’s that to us? The time goes by; away.Seen A Th In nat None « Virtue is beauty . Are « ] Com: } ef yt u nast, Se vastien, Or T e lV. WHAT You WILL. 311 nt. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god !— done good feature shame.— iture there’s no blemish, but the mind ; an be call’d deform’ d, but the u inkind : but the by auteous-eyil mpty trunks, o’erflourish’d! by the devil, 1 Man grows mad; away with him. » COME, Sir. nt. Lead me on. [ Eve. Officers, with Antonio. 0. Methinks, his words do from such passion mself; so do not I. ue, Imagination, O prove true, [, dear brother, be now ta’en for you! To. c me hithe r. knicht : come hither, Fa- we'll w hisper o’er a couplet or two of most save saws Tem) Sir a cow He nam’d Sebastian : [ my brother know ing in my lass :2 even such and so, was my brother; and he went 1 this fashion, colour, ornament, im I imitate: O, if it prove, ests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! [Exit To. A very ie st paltry boy, and more ird than a hare: his dishone sty appears, in leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying him; and for his cowardshir p, ask Fabian. LIONS | << SS a thy SW Sir f a / Sir yet. (1) (2 ) In the reflection of my own figure. 4 coward, a most ‘devout coward, reli- 1 it. * And. ’Slid,T’ll after him again. and be: at him , L'o. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw rd And. An I do not.— [ Eaxct Come, let’s see the event. Zo. I dare lay any money, ’twill be nothing (E xeunt Ornamented.312 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, Act IV. Ait Ty, SCENE 1.—The street before Olivia’s house. Enter Sebastian and Clown. Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not sent for you? Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow ; Let me be clear of thee. Clo. Well held out, i’faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither.— Nothing, that is so, is so. Seb. I pr’ythee, vent! thy folly somewhere else ; thou know’st not me. Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! Iam afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney.—lI pr’ythee now, un- gird thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady; shall I vent to her, that thou art coming ? Seb. I pr’ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me ; There’s money for thee ; if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment. Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand :— These wise men, that give fools money, get them- selves a good report after fourteen years’ purchase. Enter Sir Andrew, Stx Toby, and Fabian. Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? there’s for you. [Striking Sebastian. Seb. Why, there’s for thee, and there, and there : are all the people mad? = [ Beating Sir Andrew. Ser To. Hold, sir, or Pll throw your daggei o’er the house. (1) Let out.Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL ols Clo. This will I tell my lady strairht. I would not be in some of your coats for two-pence. | Exit Clown. Sir T'o. Come on, sir: hold. | Holding Seb. Sur And. Nay, let him alone, I’ll go another way Tie to work with him; [ll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria : though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter for that. . EI, Seb. Let go thy hand. f Sir T’o. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, | my young soldier, put up your iron : you are well fleshed: come on. Seb. I will be free from thee. What would’st | thou now [f thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword. | Draws. bi Str 70. What, what? Nay, then I must have he an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. (Draws. BH Enter Olivia. ! Oli. Hold, Toby ; on thy !ife, I charge thee, hold. Sir To. Madam? Olz. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, pay Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves, a Where manners ne’er were preach’d! out of my ri sivhnt } : Be not offended, dear Cesario :—— Rudesby,! be gone !—I pr’ythee, gentle friend, he Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway a In this uncivil and unjust extent? ae Against thy peace. Go with me to my house ; lf And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks ip This ruffian hath botch’d up,’ that thou thereby f May’st smile at this: thou shalt not choose, but go , ( Do not deny: beshrew/4 his soul for me, Pil (1) Rude fellow. (2) Violence. (3) Made up (4) Ill betide.PPR ce -~ > ~“ = aS 314 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, Act IV. He started one poor heart of mine in thee. Seb What relish is in this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream :-— Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! Olt. Nay, come, I pr’ythee : ’would, thou’dst be rul’d by me! Seb. Madam, I will. Oli. O, say so, and so be! (Exe. SCENE II_—A room in Olivia’s house. Enter Maria and Clown. Mar. Nay, I pr’ythee, put on this gown, and this beard; make him believe thou art sir Topas the curate; do it quickly: T’ll call sir Toby the whilst. [Exit Maria. Clo. Well, Pll put it on, and I will dissemble! myself in’t; and I would I were the first that ever dissembied in such a gown. I am not fat enough to become the function well ; nor lean enough to be thought a good student; but to be said, an honest man, and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly, as tosay, a careful man, and a great scholar The competitors? enter. Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria. Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby : for as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wit- tily said toa niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is, ws: so I, beine master parson, am master parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is? Ser Zo. To him, sir Topas. Clo. What, hoa, I say,—-Peace in this prison! Sir Z'o. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. : Mal. [in an nner chamber.| Who calls there ? (1) Disguise. (2) Confederates.Scene IT. WHAT YOU WILL 315 Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic. Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas, go to my lady. Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man? talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? Sir T'o. Well said, master parson, Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged ! good sir Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me here in hideous darkness. : Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan! I cal] thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those centle ones, that will use the devil himself with courtesy: say’st thou, that house is dark P : Jal. As hell, sit Topas. Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows,! transparent as barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south- north are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet complainest thou of obstruction ? Mal. | am not mad, sir Topas; I say to you, this house is dark. Clo. Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness, but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzl d, than the Eeyptians in their foe. Jal. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused: I] am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any con- stant question.¢ Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concern- ina wild-fowl ? Mal. ‘That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion ? Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way ap- prove his opinion. Clo. Fare thee well: remain thou still in dark- ness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, (2) Regular conversation. (1) Bow-windows.316 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act IV. ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to killa woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy gran- dam. Fare thee well. Mal. Sir Topas, sir ‘Topas,— Sir To. My most exquisite sir Topas! Clo. Nay, I am for all waters.! Mar, Thou might’st have done this without thy beard, and gown; he sees thee not. Sir T'o. ‘To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveni- ently delivered, I would he were; for I am now so far in offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. {Eze. Sir Toby and Mar. Clo. Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, L'ell me how thy lady does. _- Singing. Mal. Fool,— Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy. Mal. Fool,_— Clo. Alas, why ts she so? Mal. Fool, | ay Clo. She loves another—Who calls, ha? Mal. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, and ink, and paper; as | am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for’t. Clo. Master Malvolio! Mal. Ay, good fool. Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits ?2 Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused: [ am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clo. But as well? then you are mad, indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool. ‘Mal. They have here propertied me ;3 keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and os al] they can to face me out of my wits. (1) Any other gem as a fopaz. (2) Senses, (3) ‘Taken possession of,Scene IT. WHAT YOU WILL. 317 Clo. Advise you what you say; the minister js here.—Ma lvolio, Maly. lio, t thy with thie heavens re- tore ! end avour thy self to s leep, and leave t thy Vain bibbl, babble Mal. Sir Topas,———~. Cio. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.— Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God b’wi’you, good sir Topas.— Marry, amen.—] will, sir, I will. /Val. ie yl oe fool, I say,— Clo. Alas , be pat tient. What Say you, sir? { am she nt! ie i king to you. Mal. Good fool, he lp me to some li cht, and some paper ; ‘T tell thee, [I am as well in my wits, as any raan in Illyria. Clo. Well-a-d iy,—that you were, sir! Mal. By this hand, Iam: good fool, some ink, paper, and light, and conve y what ] will set down LO my lady ; it shall ady: inta ize thee more than ever { the by irine of lette r did. Clo. I i _ a you fort But tell me true, are you not mad, indeed ? or do you but counterfeit ? : Mal. ae lieve me, l am not; I tell thee true. Clo. Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a m; idinan, till I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink. Mal. Fool, Pll r quite it in the highest degree : ] pr’y the e, be fone, Clo. I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, Til be with you again, In a trice ; Like lo the old VICE 2 Your need to sustain ° Who with dageer of lath, In his rage and his wrath, (1) Scolded, re primanded. (2) A buffoon character in the old plays, and father of the modern harlequin,TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act IP. Cries, ah, ha! to the devil: Like a mad lad, Pare thy nails, dad, Adieu, goodman drivel. (Exit. SCENE III.—Olivia’s garden. Enter Sebastian Seb. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t, and see’t: And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet ’tis not madness. Where’s Antonio then? I could not find him at the Elephant : Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,! That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service : For though my soul disputes well’ with my sense, That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune, So far exceed all instance, all discourse,? That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me To any other trust? but that I am mad, Or else the lady’s mad; yet, if ’twere so, She could not sway her house, command her fol- lowers,4 Take, and give back, affairs, and their despatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, As, I perceive, she does: there’s something in’t, That is deceivable. But here comes the lady. Enter Olivia and a Priest. Olt. Blame not this haste of mine: if you mean well, Now go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry> by: there, before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith ; ) Account. (2) Reason. (3) Belief. ) Servants. (5) Little chapel. (1 (4Scene I, WHAT YOU WILL. That my most jealous and too dou ibtful soul M i} live at peace: he shi “ conceal it Whiles! you are willing it shall come to note ; What time we will our celebration kee p According to my birth. —What do you say? Seb. |? I follow this good man, and o ©o with you; And, havine sworn truth, ever will be true, Ol. Then lead the w; ay, good father :;——And heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine ! [ Exe. —j>-—__. ACT ¥. SCENE [—Thx street before Olivia’s house. Enter Clown and F abian. Fab. Now,as thou love st me, let me see his le stter. Clo. Good master F abian, grant me another re- quest Fab. Any thine. Clo. Be ed desire to see this lett Fah. That is, to vive a dog qd o, and, in recompense, desire my ne again. Enter Duke, Viola, and att ndants, a . Belong you to t] lady Olivia, friends? O. Ay, sIr ; we are some of he r trap pings, ha Ke. | know thee well ; How dost thou, my good fellow ? ~ Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends. Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy fri¢ nds. Clo. No, Sir, the worse, Duke. How can that be ? Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ase (1) Until.320 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act V. of me; now my foes tell me plainly Iam an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in tle knowledge of myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes. Duke. Why, this is excellent. Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends. Duke. 'Vhou shalt not be the worse for me; there’s gold. Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another. Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. Duke. Well, 1 will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer ; there’s another. Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, isa good play ; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the trzplezx, sir, is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of St. Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; One, two, three. Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know, I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further. : Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty, till I come again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think, that my desire of having is the sin of cov- etousness: but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Lait Clown. Enter Antonio and Officers. Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. Duke. That face of his I do remember w-7}] Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear’d As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war: A bawbling vessel was he captain of, for shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable: ;Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 321 With which such seathful! erapple did h 1e make W ith the most noble bottom of our fleet, "ED il Ve ry envy, and the toncue of loss, Cry’d fame and honour on him.—What’s the matter? 1 Off. Orsino, this is that \ntonio, [hat took the Pheenix, and her fraught?, from And this is he, that did the Tiger board, When your young n phew ‘Titus lost his lee: Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and state, private brabble did wi apprehend him. Vio. He did m kindness, sir; drew on my side ; But, in conclusion, put strange spee: h upon me, ] know not what "twas, Dut distraction. Duke. Notabl. pirate! thou salt-water thief! What it sh boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom th u, in terms so bloody, and so dear, Hast made thine enemies ? Ant. Orsino, noble SI, Be pleas’d that I shake off these names you give me; Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate, Th ugh, I conf ss, on base and sround enough, Orsino’s enemy. Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly now the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still ; But this your minion, wh 10m, I know, you love, And whom, by heaven, I swear, I tende or de arly, Him will I tear out of that cruel e ye, Where he sits crowned in his master’s spite. — Come boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mis- chief: I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven’s heart within a dove. [ Going. Vio. And I, most jocund, - and willins gly, “a To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. | Following. .pe , 7 . . ‘ Olt. Where goes Cesario? Vio. After him I love, More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, | by all more s, than e’er I shall love wilh If I do feizn, you witnesses eae Punish my life, for tainting of my love! Oli. Ah, me, detested! how am I be ouil’d ! Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Olt. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long >— Call forth the holy father. [Eat an Attendant Duke. Come away. [To Viola. Oli. Whither, my lord ?—Cesario, husband, stay. Duke. Husband ? Olt. Ay, husband; Can he that deny ? Duke. Her husband, sirrah? PV 20. No, my lord, not I, Oi. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear, ‘That makes thee strangle thy propriety :! Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know’st thou art, and then thou art (1) Disown thy property. VOL. I. Xxae ee . 324 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act V. As great as that thou fear’st.—O, welcome, father * Re-enter Attendant and Priest. Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold (though lately we intended To keep in darkness, what occasion now Reveals before ’tis ripe,) what thou dost know, Hath newly past between this youth and me. Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirmed by mutual penile of your hands, Attested by the holy close 0 f lips, Strengthen’d by interchangement of your rings ; And all the ceremony of this compact Seal’d in my function, by my testimony : Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave, I have travelled but two hours. Duke. O, thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be, When time hath sew’d a rrizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quick ly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine ove rthrow 3 ? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet, Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. Vio. My lord, I do protest,— Oli. O, do not swear: Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, with his head broke. r And. For the love of God, a surgeon; send one presently to sir Toby. Oli. What’s the matter ? Str And. He has broke my head across, and has given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of ’ God, your help: I had rather than forty pound, I were at home. Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew ? Sz And. The count’s gentleman, one Cesario: (1) Skin.Scene I WHAT YOU WILL. 325 we took him for a coward, but he’s the ye ry devil incardinate, Duke. My gentle man, Cesario ? Sir And. Od’s lifi lings, here he s:—You broke my head for pig and that that I did, I was Tn Whe Toby. Vio. Why d ane ik to me? Ineve r hurt you: You drew y ur sword upon me, without cause ? , r ry | ‘ But Ib Spake you fair, and hurt oe not. sir And. If a bk ody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; | think, you sé tnothing by a bloody COXCOomMbD, Enter Sir T by Belch, drunk, led by the Clown. Here comes si! Toby halting, you shall hear more : but if he had not been in drink, he would have uickled you othergates! than he did. Duke. How now, gentleman? how is’t with you? Sir ZT'o. That’s all one; he has hurt me, and there’s the end on’t.—Sot, d dst see Dick surgeon, Clo. O he’s drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ; his eyes were set at eicht i’ the morning. Sir Lo. Then he’s a rozue. Aftera passy-mea- sure, ora pavin,? I hate a drunken rogue Oli. re ay with him: who hath made this havoc with them? Sir And. ll help you, sir Toby, because we’ll be dressed together. * Sir To. Will vou he Ip an ass-head, and a cox- comb, and a knave? a thin-face d knave, a cull ? Oli. Cet him t ) | ‘ d, and l { his hurt be look’d to. | Exeunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. E’nter Sebastian. Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your king man ; But, had it been the brother of my blood, 1) Otherways. (2) Serious dancers.326 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act Vi [ must have done no less, with wit, and safety. You throw a strange regard upon me, and By that I do perceive it hath offended you ; Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We mede each other but so late ago. Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons ° A natural perspective, that is, and is not. Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! “low have the hours rack’d and tortur’d me, Since I have lost thee. Alnt. Sebastian are you? Seb. Fear’st thou that, Antonio ? Ant. How have you made division of yourself ? An apple, « left in two, is not more twin [han these two creatures. Which is Sebastian ? Oli. Most wonderful ! Seb. Do I stand there ? I never had a brother: Nor can there be that deity in my nature, )f here and every where. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves and surges have devour’d:— Of charity,! what kin are you tome? [7 Viola. What countryman ? what name? what parentage ? Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; Such a Sebastian was my brother too, So went he suited to his watery tomb : [f spirits can assume both form and suit, You come to fright us. Seb. A spirit I am indeed ; But am in that dimension grossly clad, Which from the womb I did participate Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, i should my tears let fall 1 pon your cheek, And say—Thrice welcome, drowned Viola! Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow. Seb. And so had mine. Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth Tad number'd thirteen years, (1) Out of charity tell me.Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 327 Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul! He finishe d, nde d, his mortal act, That d ty that made my sister thirteen years, Vio. If 1 ng lets! to make us happy both, But this my masculine usurp’d attire, : Do} t embrace Of place, time, fortune. do « ohere, and jump, Phat I am Viola: which to « onfirm, me, till eac h « ircumstance I’]| Dring you to a captain in this town, | maiden weeds; by whose gentle help, , to serve this noble count : nce of my fortune since Hath been betwe. n this lady, and this lord. eb. So comes it, lady, y ou have br en mistook : f To Oliy la. L _ But nature to her bias drew in that. } en contracted to a maid ; Nor ar you therein, by my life, deceiv’d ; \ pi Sr ou are betroth’d both to a maid and man. ou would have b Juke. Be not amaz’d: rizht noble is his blood.— I his be so, as vet thi olass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck : Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times, { Z'o Viola. Thou never should’st love woman like to me. Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear ; And all those swearines ke ep as true in soul, As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from nicht. Duke. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds. F’to. The captain, that did bring me first on shore, Hath my maid’s garments : he, upon some action, Is now in durance; at Malvolio’s suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady 1g. Oli. He shall enlarge him:—Fetch Malvolige hither :— And yet, alas, now I remember me, (1) Hinders.a ease eR 328 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, Act PV. They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract. Re-enter Clown, with a letter. A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banish’d his. How does he, sirrah P Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave’s end, as well asa man in his case may do: he has here writ a letter to you; I should have giv- en it you to-day morning; but as a madman’s epis- tles are no erospels, so it skills not much, when they are delivered. Oli. Open it, and read it. Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman :—By the Lord, madam,— Oli. How now! art thou mad? Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow voz.! : Oli. Pr’ythee, read i’ thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend,? iny prin- cess, and give ear. Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [ Z’o Fabian, Fab. freads.) By the Lord,madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness, and given your ‘drunken cousin rule over me, ye have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladysh ip. [ have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much rig At, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury. The madly-used Malvolio. Oli. Did he write this? Clo. Ay, madam. Duke. This savours not much of distraction. (1) Voice. (2) Attend.Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 329 Olt. See him deliver’d, Fabian; bring him hither. | Exet Fabian. My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, . To think me as well a sister as a ife, One day shall crown the alliance on’t, so please you, Here at my house, and at my proper cost. Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your olier.— Your master quits you; [To Viola.) and, for your Service d ne him, So much a So sainst the mettle! of your sex, far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call’d me master for so long, Here is iny hand; you shall from this time be Your master’s mistress. FH Oli. A sister ?—you are she. Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. Duke. Is this the madman ? Oli. Ay, my lord, this same : How now, Malvolio? Val. Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong. Olz. Have I, Malvolio ? no. iy Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse thay pail letter: Ky You must not now deny it is your hand, a Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase , Or say, ’tis not your seal, nor your invention: You can say none of this: Well, grant it then, And tell me, in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter’d to you, To put on vellow stoc kings, and to frown Upon sir Toby, and the lighter? people : I! And, acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, (1) Frame and constitution (2) Inferior.330 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, Act Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck,! and gull, That e’er invention play’d on? tell me why. Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character : But, out of question, ’tis Maria’s hand. And now I do bethink 1ne, it was she First told me, thou wast mad; then cam’st in smiling, And in such forms which here were presuppos’d Upon thee in the letter. Pr’ythee be content: This practice hath most shrewdly pass’d upon thee; But, when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. Fab. Good madam, hear me speak ; And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, ‘Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wonder’d at. In hope it shall not, Most freely | confess, myself, and ‘Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceiv’d against him: Maria writ The letter, at sir Toby’s great Importance ;2 In recompense whereof, he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was follow’d, May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; If that the injuries be justly weigh’d That have on both sides past. ; Oli. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled’ thee! Clo. Why, some are born great, some achieve ’ greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them. I was one, sir, in this interlude: one sir To- pas, sir; but that’s all one :—By the Lord, fool, I am not mad ;—But do you remember? Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he’s gage’d: And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges ‘ ~ Cs. (1) Fool. (2) Importunacy. (3) Cheated.Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. S31 Mal. Vl be reveneed on the whole pack of you. [ Exit. Ol. He hath been most notoriously abus’d. Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to peace :— Hi hath not told us of the ¢ apt iin vel; When that is known, and rolden time convents,! A sOl.eimn ¢ ombination shall be made Of our dear souls—Meantiine, sweet sister, We will not part frorn hence.—Cesario, come 5 For so you shall be. while you are a man; But, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress, ond his fancy’s queen. ( Exeunt, SONG, Clo. When that Iwas and a litt]. tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A fools h thine was but a toy, For the rain tt raineth everr day. t ¥ But when I came to man’s estate, With | U, ho. the wind and the rain, *Gainst knave and thief men shut their gale, For the rain it rarneth every day. But when ] came, alas ! lo wrVe, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By SIAL fering ad / Lever thrive, For the rainit raineth every day. But when / came unto my bed, With he Y, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken head, For the rain ut raineth every day. A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that’s al! one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. [Exit (1) Shall serve.SF TWELFTH-NIGHT; &c. This play is in the graver part elegant and easy, and in some of the lighter scenes exquisitely hu- morous. Ague-cheek is drawn with great propri- ety, but his character is, in a great measure, that of natural fatuity, and is therefore not the proper prey of a satirist. ‘The soliloguy of Malvolio is truly comic ; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by his pride. The marriage of Olivia, and the suc- ceeding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no just picture of life. JOHNSON.MEASURE FOR MEASUREPERSONS REPRESENTED Vincentio, duke of Vienna. Angelo, lord deputy in the duke’s absence. Escalus, an ancient lord, joined with Angelo in the deputation. Claudio, a young gentleman. Lucio, a fantastic. T'wo other like gentlemen. Varrius, a gentleman, servant to the duke. Provost. pnee ¢ two friars. Peter, m A Justice. Elbow, a simple constable. Froth, a foolish gentleman. Clown, servant to Mrs. Over -done. Abhorson, an executioner. Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner. Isabella, stster to Claudio. Mariana, betrothed to Angelo. Juliet, beloved by Claudio. Francisca, a nun. Mistress Over-done, a bawd, Lords, gentlemen, guards, officers, and other at- tendants. scene, Vienna,MEASURE FOR MEASURE, — every si e by the immoderate use ry rns to restraint: our natures do pursue I Like rats that ravin2 down the ir proper bane,) \ thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die. Lucio. If | could speak so wisely unde) an arrest, [ would send for certain of my Creditors: and yet, [O Say the ft uth, | ha las lief have the foppery ot freedom, as the morality of imprisonment.— What’s in lence Claudio? Claud. What. but tospeak of would offend again, [cio. What is it? murder ? Claud. No. Tacio. Le chery ? Claud. Call it so. Prov. Away, sir; you must 0. (1 ) Gaoler. on Voraciously devourpr E 5S = = is are ipa 342 MEASURE Act I Claud. One word, good friend :—Lucio, a wor: with you. [ T'akes him aside Lucio. A hundred, if t] 1ey y’ll do you any good.— 18 lechery so look’d after! Claud. ‘Thus stands it crit me :—Upon a true contract, ] got possession of Julietta’s bed ; You know the lady ; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order: this we came not to, Only for propaga ition of a dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends ; From whom we thought it meet to hide our love, Till time had made them for us. But it chances, The stealth of our most mutual entertainment, With character too gross, is writ on Juliet. Lucio. With child, perhaps ? Claud. Unh: ip pily, even so. And the new ck uty now for the duke,— Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness 3 Or whether that the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride, Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He oan command, lets it straight feel the spur: Whether the tyranny be in his place, Or in his eminence that fills it up, I staceer in :—But this new governor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, ~ . . . t Which have, like unscour’d armour, hung by the wall So lone, that nineteen zodiacs! have gone round, And none of them been worn; and, for a name, Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me :—'tis surely for ; name. Lucio. | warrant it is: and t hy head stands so tickle? on thy shoulders, that a milk-maid, she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, and appeal to him. (2) Ticklish (1) Yearly circles.Scene 1V. FOR MEASURE, 343 Claud. [ have done so, but he’s not to be found. pr’ythee, Lucio, do me this kind servic ; This da iy my sister should the cloister enter, And ther re rece lve ees ay Ac Quaint he rw ith the ¢ lane pro bation :1 iver of my State [mpl re her, in my voice, that she make frie nds To the strict de puty; bid herself assay him ; I have great hope in that: for in he r yo uth The ré is a prone 2 and speec hle SS diz le Cl, Such asmovesmen: besides , she hath ae When she will pl iy with reason and discourse Lucio. | pray shen nay : as well for the en ourage- ment of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition ; as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be s rry should be thus foolishly lost ata game of tick-tack. I’ 1] to ner. Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. Lucio. Within two hou Irs, Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.—A monast. ry. Enter Duke and Friar Thomas. Duke. No: holy father: throw aw; ay that thought; Believe not that th dril bling dart of love Can pierce a c6mplete bosom :3 why I desire thee To give me ser ret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth. Fri. May your grace speak of it? Duke. My holy sir, none better brutes than you How I have ever lov’d the life remo 'd:4 And held in idle price to ‘i aunt assemblies, Where youth, and cost, and witless brave ry ‘keeps 4 I have delivered to lord Aneclo (A man of stricture,® and firm abstinence,) (1) Enter on her pacer (2) Prompt. mee tely armed. ) Retired. Showy dress resides. ts Bae344 MEASURE Act I, My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell’d to Poland ; For so I fave strew’d it in the common ear, And so it is receiv’d : now, pious sir, You will demand of me, why I do this? Fri. Gladly, my lord. Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting laws (The needful bits and curbs for headstrong: steeds,) Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep ; Even like an over-grown lion in a Cave, That Se not out to prey : now, as fond fathers Having bound up the threat’ning twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their c hildren’s sizht, For terror, not to use; in time the rod Becomes more mock’d,than fear’d: so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ; And liberty plucks justi e by the nose ; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all ‘di corum. Fri. It rested in your grace To unloose this tied-up justice, when you pleas’d: And it in you more dreadful would have seem’d, Than in lord Angelo. Duke. I do fear, too dreadful : Sith! ’twas my fault to give the pe ople scope, ’T would be my tyranny to strike, and ¢& ie them For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their pe rmissive pass, And not the punishment. ‘Therefore, indeed, my father, ‘ have on Angelo impos’d the office ; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, And yet PS nature never in the sight, To do it slander: and to behold his sway, i will, as ’twere a brother of your ain Visit both prince and people: therefore, I pr’ythee, Supply me with the habit, and aac me (1) Since.Scene V. FOR MEASURE. 345 How ™ may form lly in ss bear me Like a true friar. More asons for this ac tion, At our mor » leisure shall L render you; Only, tl his one :—Lord Angelo js prec ise : Stands ata cuard! with envy ; scarce confesses That his blood flows, or th: it his ay ppetite Is more to bread Sad stone: he nce shall we see, If power change purpose, y whi it Our seemers be, | Exeunt. SCENE V.—A nunnery. Enter Isabella and Francisca. Isab. And have you nuns no further privileges ? Fran. Are not these large enough ? [sab. Yes, truly: I speak not as de siring more . But rather wishing a m i strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of saint Clare. Luci » Ho! peace be in this pl: ice ! [iy ‘tthin. Tsah. Who’s that elishenine Fran. It is a man’s voice: gentle Isabe lla, Turn you the ke y, and know his business of him : You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn: When you have vow’'d, you must not speak with men, But in the presence of the prioress : Then, if you speak, you must not show your face * Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again; | pray you answer him. |Eaxit Francisca Isah. Peace and prosperity! Who is’t that calls Enter Lucio. Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be; as those cheek roses Proclaim you are no less! can you so stead me, As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this plac e, and the fair sister To her unhayipy brother Claudio ? (1) On his defence346 MEASURE Act I Isab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask ; The rather, for I now must make you know I am that Isabella, and his sister. Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: Not to be weary m ith you, he’s in prison. Isab. Wo me! For eli at? Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks He hath cot his fri nd with child. Isab. Sir, make me not your story.! Lucio. It is true. | would not—though ’tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, Tongue far from heart,— ple 1y with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing ensky’ d, and sainted ; By your renouncement, an immortal spirit ; And to be talk’d with in sincerity, As with a saint. Isab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me. Iucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth,? *tis thus: Your brother and his lover have embrac’d : As those that feed grow full; as blossoming time, That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison ;3 even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth4 and husbandry. Jsab. Some one with child by him -—My cousin Juliet? Lucio. Is she your cousin? Isab. Adopte dly ; as school-maids change their names, By vain though apt affection. Lucio. She it is. (1) Do not make a jest of me. (2) In few and true words. (3) Breeding plenty. (4) Tilling.“ e pba z : Se -) Weweeids it ate i rere tt ; bi 4 ; i ier aeScene FOR MEASURE. 347 [sab. O, let him marry her! Lau LO. The duke This 1s the point, is very strangely gone from hence ; ore many gentlemen, inyself being one, In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn vy those that know the ve ry nerves of state, His oO} “s-Oul were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. | pon his place, And with full line! of his authority, Governs lord Angelo; a man, whose blood Is very SI v-Droth ; one who never feels ‘he wanton stings and motions of the se nse 5 But doth r e and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind, study and fast. He iO give fear to usSsé and liberty, Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, As mice D\ lions,) hath pick’d out an act, brother’s life Falls into forfert: he arrests him on it: Under whose heavy sense vou And follows close the rigour of the statute, l’o make him an ¢ xample: all hope is gone, Unless you have the grace? by your fair prayer To soften Angelo: and that’s my pith Of business ’twixt you and your poor brother. I sal Doth he so see k his life P Lucio. Has censur’d3 him Already: ind, as I hear, the provost hath \ warrant for his execution. ! Isab. Alas! what poor ability’s in me Lucio. \ssay the power you have. Tsah. VI 5 power! Alas! | doubt,— Lucio. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt: go to lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel. ‘1 Extent. 2) Power of gaining favour. o (3) Sentenced.MEASURE All their petiticns are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe! them. Isab. [ll see what I can do. Lucio. But speedily. Isab. I will about it straicht: No longer st: 1ying but to give the mother? Netice of my affair. | hur mbly thank you: Commend me to my brother: soon at nicht I'll send him certain word of my success. Lucio. I take my leave of you. Isab. Good sir, adieu. | Haxeunl. atk aks pete ae [.—A hall in Angelo’s house. Enter Angelo, Escalus, a Justice, Proy ost, Officers, and attendants. Ang. We mustnot make a scare-crow of the law, Setting it up to fear’ the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror. Escal. Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, ; Than fall, and bruise todeath: alas! this gentleman, Whom I would save, had a most noble father. Let but your honour know4 (Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,) That, in the working of your own affections, Had time coher’d§ with place, or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attain’d the effect of your own pr Whether you had not sometime in your lit Err’d in this point which now you censure him, And pull’d the law upon you. (1) Have. (2) Abbess. (3) Scare (4) Examine (5) SuitedScene I. FOR MEASURE. 349 Ane. ’Tis one thing to be t mpt d, Escalus, ; +} Cs 4 ] An ner thing to fall. | not deny, ‘he jury, passing on th prisoner’s life, May, 1 Une sworn twelve, have a thie f or two Guiltier than him they try: what’s open made to , Th it justi e seizes What know the law S, }USLICE Th lieves do pass! on thieves? ’Tis very pree- n nt. The jewel that we find. we stoop and take ; e jewel that we find, we st yp and take it, Because we see it: but what we do not see, VW ‘ } } \ t} | p e tread upon, and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offence, For’ I have had such faults; but rather tel! me, When I, that censure4 him, do so offend, Let mine own judginent pattern out my death, And nothing come in Qartial. SIT, he must die Escal. Be it as yous wisdom will. Ane. : Where is the provos*? Prov. Here, if it like «uur honour. 4 lng. ; See that Claud ' Be executed by nine to-morrow morning . > | ¥ tr L 94. Brine him his confessor, let him he vrs par a5 For that’s the utmost of his pilgiimage. | Fa. Prov Escal. Well, heaven forgive him; and forgiv Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: some run trom DI ike 5 of vice, and answer none And some condemned for a fault alone. Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, &c. Elb. Come, brine them away: if these be good pe ople ma common we al,6 that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law ; bring them away. ‘1) Pass judezment. (2) Plain. (3) Because. (4) Sentence. (5) Thickest, thorny paths of vice (6) Wealth.MEASURE Act II. Jing. How now, sir! what’s your name? and Ww hat’s the matter? Elb. If ’ please your honour, I am the poor duke’s cons table, and my name is E lbow; I do leaa upon justice, sir, and do bring in here bef fre your good honour two notorious bel ‘netactors a ing. Benefactors? Well: what bene factors are they? are they not malefactors ? Elb. If it ple ‘ase your honour, I know not well what they HR : but prec ise villains the -y are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanetion in the world, that eood Christians ou oht to have. E’scal. This comes off we IL 1 here’ saw ise officer. Alng ( ( 2s is 1O what quality are they of ? Elbow is your name? W hy dost thou not speak, Elbow ? Clo. He cannot, sir : < S out at elbow. Ang. oe are you, sir? Eilb. He, sir? aden, sir: parcel?-bawd ; one whose house, sir, w as, as they say » pluc k’d down in the suburbs professes’ a hot-house, which house too. that serves a .d woman: : siricl ape she , I think, is a very ill E’scal. How aes you that ? Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest4 betore heaven and your honour.— E’scal. How ! thy wife ? Eilb. Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,— E'scal. Dost thou sty her the re fore : ? Kilb. | say, sir, I wil oe stest myself also, as wel] as she, th: it this house, if it be not a bawd’s house, it is pity of her life, og it isa naug ehty house. E’seal. ae ae thou know that, constabl ? Eilb. Marry, sir. by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cat dinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adulte ry, and all uncleanli- ness the 4g ol (1) Well told. (2) Partly, ( (3) Keeps a bagnio. (4) For protest °Scene I. FOR MEASURE. Escal. By the woman’s means? Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Ove r-done’s means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man, prove it. | Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces ? T'o Angelo. Clo. Sir, she came in great with child ; and long- ing (saving your honour’s reveremce) for ste wd prunes: sir, we h id but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit- dish, a dish of some three-pence: your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes. Escal. Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin ; you are there- ht: but, to the point: as I say, this in in the rig mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and be- ine great belly’d, and longing, as I said, for prunes ; and havine but twogin the dish, as I said, master * , Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as [ said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly ; wmanfOT', as you know, mastel1 Froth, I could not give rain. leed. i vou being then, if you be re- you three -pence Froth. No, in Clo. Very wel membe rd, racking the stones ot the foresaid prune 8. Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed. Clo. Why. very well: I telling you then, if you oe reme mber’d, that such a one, and such a one, thine you wot of, unless they vere past cure of the sept very eood diet, as I told you. Froth. Al\\ this is true. Yo. Why, very well then. Escal. Come, vou are a tedious fool : to the pur- s done to Elbow’s wife, that he pose.— What wa lain of? Come me to what was hath cause to com] done to her.MEASURE Act I]. Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour’s leave: and | beseech you, look into master Froth here, sir; a manof fourscore pound a whose father died at Hallowmas :—W Hallowmas, master Froth? Froth. All-hollond! eve. Clo. Why, ve ry well; | hope here be truths: he, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower2 chair, sir ;— *twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a delight to sit : Froth. I have so ; and good for winter. Clo. Why, very well then;—I ho truths, Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are loneest th. re: I'll take my leave, And leave y ou to the hearing: of the Cause ; Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip them all. Escal. 1 think no less : good morrow to your lordship. | Eait Angelo. Now, sit '» come on: what was done to Elbow’s wife, once more ? Clo. Once, sir ? once, year ; as’t not at have you not? because it is an open room, pe here be there was nothing done to her Elb. I beseech you, sit did to my wife? Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. E’scal. Well, sir: what did this gentleman to her? Clo. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman’s face :—Good master Froth, look upon his honour; tis for a good purpose: doth your honour mark his face? E’scal. Ay, sir, very well. Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. E'scal. Well, I do so. Clo. Doth your honour see any h , ask him what this man arm in his face? (1) Eve of All Saints day. (2)Easy.Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 353 Escal. Why, no. Clo. Vil be suppos’d! upon a book, his face is the worst thine about him: good then; if his face be the worst thine about him, how could master Froth do the const: ble ’s wife any harm? I would know that of your honour. E'scal. He’s in the right: constable, what say you to it? : ' Elb. First, an it like you, the house ts a re- ted house; next, this is a respected fellow ; ST) } : ] and his mistress Is a respet ted woman. a Clo. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all. Elb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked var- let : the time 1s yet to come, that she was ever re- spnected with man, woman, or child. Clo. Sir, she was respecte d with him before he married with her. Escal. Which is the wiser here? justice, or iniquity ?2 Is this true? Elb. O thou caitiff ! O thou varlet ' O thou wick ed Hannibal !3 I respected with her, before I wag -? If ever I was respecte :d with hey let not your worship think me the -Prove this, thou wicked Han married to her or she with me, poor duke ’s officer nibal, or Pll have mine action of battery on thee. Escal. If he took you a box o’ the ear, you might have a acti n of slander too. Elb. Mi: ur} thank your ood worship for it ; what is’t your worship’s ple asure I should do oith this wicked caitiff? Escal. Tru ily, officer, because he hath some of- hat thou wouldst discover if thou fences in him, t in his courses, till thou couldst, let him continue know’st what they are. Elb. Marry, [ thank your worship for it: -—thou seest, thou wicked v: irlet now, what’s come upon (1) Deposed, sworn, (2) Constable or Clown. (3) For cannibal.354 MEASURE Act IT. thee ; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue. E’scal. Where were you born, friend ? [ Zo Froth. Froth. Here, in Vienna, sir. E’scal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? Froth. Yes, and’t please you, sir. Escal. So.—What trade are you of, sir? { Z'o the Clown. Cm. A tapster: a poor widow’s tapster. E'scal. Your mistress’s name? Clo. Mistress Over-done. Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband? Clo. Nine, sir: Over-done by the last. Escal. Nine!—Come hither to me, master Froth. Master Froth ] would not have you acquainted with tapsters ; they will draw you, master Froth, them: get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. Froth. I thank your worship: part, I never come into but I am drawn in. E’scal. Well: no more ot it, well. Eivit Froth. |—Come master tapster: what and you will hang for mine own any room in a taphouse, master Froth: fare- you hither to me, 's your name, master tapster ? Clo. Pompey. E’scal. What else ? Clo. Bum, sir. E'scal. ’Troth, and your bum is ¢} thine about you; so that. in the | are Pompey the great. Pom] bawd, Pomp J le greatest eastilest sense, you pey, you are partly a loOwsoever you col fapster. Are you not? | be the bette 5 ur it in being a come, tell me true; it shal] r for you. Clo. Truly, sir, lama poor fellow, that would live. Escal. How would vou live, Pi mpey? by be- nc a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey ? is it a lawful trade? Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. E'scal. But the law will not allow it, PompeyScene I. FOR MEASURE. nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the youth in the city £ Escal. No, P mpeé y. Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to’t then: if your worsh! p will t ake order! for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I «an tell you: it is but heading and hanging. Clo. if vou head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year tore ther, you'll be clad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I’ll rent the fairest house in it, after thr e-pen ea bay : if you live to see Escal. Thank you, good Pompey : and, in re- quital of your prophecy, hark you,—I advise you, this come to pass, say Pompe, told you so. } let me not find you be fore me awain upon any com- nlaint whatsoever, no, not for dwelling where you do if Id \ Pompe VY, I shall beat you to your te nt, and prove a shire wad Ceesar to you; in plain deal- ine’, Pi mpey, | shall have you whipt : sO for this time Pompey, fare you well. Clo. I thank you worship for your cood coun- sel: but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune | 1] ‘ Tad : shail better Getermime. Whip me! No, no; let carman whip his jade : The valiant heart’s not whipt out of his trade. [E v. Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow : come hither, master Constable. How long have you been in this place of constable ? Elb. Se ven vears and a half, sir. Escal. | thove , by your re adiness in the office, you had continue rf in itsome time: Yousay, seven years toe ther? " Elb. And ahalf, sir (1) Measures. VOL. I. Z356 MEASURE Act II Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you. They do you wrong to put you so oft upon’t: Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it ? Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and 2c through with all. Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish, Elb. To your worship’s house, sir ? E'scal. To my house: Fare you well. [Exit Elbow.) What’s o’clock, think you? Just. Eleven, sir. E'scal. I pray you home to dinner with me, Just. | humbly thank you. Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio ; But there’s no rem dy Just. Lord Angelo is severe. Escal. It is but needful : Mercy is not its lf, that oft looks so: Pardon is still the nurse of se ond wo: But yet,—Poor Claudio !—There’s no remedy. | Exeunt. Come, SIV. SCENE II.—Another room in the same. Enter Provost and a Servant. Serv. He’s hearing of a cause; he will come straight. TI] tel] him of you. Prov. Pr iy you, do. [Exit Servant. ] I'll know His pleasure ; may be, he will relent : Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream! All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he lo die for it! Enter Angelo. Ane. Now, what’s the matter, provost ? Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow ? Ane. Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order?Scene II. FOR MEASURE. 357 Why dost thou ask again ? Prov. Lest I might be too rash. Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution. judement hath Repented 0. rhisdoom. — Ang. Go to; let that be mine ; Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar’d. Prov. I crave your honour’s pardon.— What shail be done, sir, With the groaning Juliet ? ’3 very near her hour. i Ang. Dispose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed. Re-enter Servant. Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn’¢ Desires access tO you. Ange. Hath he a sister ? Prov. Ay, my good lord ; avery virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, { already, Ane. Well, let her be admitted. {[#2x. Serv. See you the fornicatress be re mov’d; Let her have needful, but not lavish, means ; There shall be order for it. Enter Lucio and Isabella. Prov. Save your honour! | Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while.—[ Z’o Isab.] You are welcome: What’s your will ? Isab. I am a woful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. Ann Well; what’s your suit ? Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; For which [ would not plead, but that d must ; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war, ’twixt will, and will not. Ane. Well; the matter Isab. I have a brother is condemn’d to die:358 MEASURE Act I. I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. . Ov. Heaven give thee moving graces! ng. Condemn the fi 1ult, and not the actor of it’. WwW it every fault’s condemn’, ere it be done : Mine were ia very cipher of a function, To find the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor. Isab. O just, but severe law ! I had a brother then.—Heaven keep your honour’ [ Rettring. Lucio. {T'o Isab.] Give’t not o’er so: to him again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ; You are too cold: if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it : To him, I say. Tsab. Must he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do’t. Isab. But can you, if you would? Ane: Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Isab. But might you do’t, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch’d with that remorse! As mine is to him? Ange. He’s sentenc’d ; ’tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. {To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do 5] yeak aw ord, May call it bi .ck again: Well believe? this, No cere mony that to great ones rang Not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’ S robe; Become them with one half so good a grace, As mercy does. If he hi 1d been as you, And you as he, you would have slipt like him; (1) Pity. (2) Be assured.Scene IT. FOR MEASURE. 359 But he, like you, would not have been so stern. * lng Pray you, be ¥vone., [sab. [| would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what ’twere to be a judge, And w] Lucio. Ay, touch him - there’s the vein. "Aside Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, An 1 you Dut waste your words. Isah. Alas! alas! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; at a prisoner. And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the reme dy: How would you be, If He, which is the t yp of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that: And ‘then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. Ang Be you content, fair maid : [It is the ] iw, not i condemns your brother : Were ne my kinsm in, brothe Yr, or 1} son, It should be thus with him :-—He must die to-mor- row. [sab. To-morrow ? O, that’s sudden ! Spare him spare him: He’s not pre par’d for death! Even for our kitchens Ve kill the fowl of season ;! shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister fe O our 2Tross se lves? Gi od, food my lord, bethink you: Who is it that hath died for this offence ? There’s many have committed it. Luci ANS —_ : ), Ay, well sa‘ The law hath not been dead, though t¢ h itn slept: Those many had not d ir’d to do that evil, If the first man that did the edict infringe : Had answer’d for his deed: now. ’tis awake: . il es note of VW hat is done = and like a prophet ‘ nN ~~ i i i 5 ) (1) When in season.360 MEASURE Act Li. Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils (Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv’d, And so in progress to be hatch’d and born,) Are now to have no successive degrees, But, where they live, to end. Tsab. f Yet show some pity. Ange. I show it most of all, when I show justice ; For then I pity those [ do not know, Which a dismiss’d offence would after gall ; And do him rizht, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied ; Your brother dies to-morrow : be content. Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this sentence : And he, that suffers: O, it is excellent To have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. Lucio. That's well said. Isab. Could ereat men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne’er be quiet, For every pelting! petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven! Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Split’st the unwedgeable and gnarled? oak, Than the soft myrtle :—O, but man, proud man! Drest in a little brief authority ; Most ignorant of what he’s most assur’d, His glassy essen e,—like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep: who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. Lucio: O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent ; He’s coming, I perceive’t. Prov. Pray heaven, she win him ! Isab. We cannot weich our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints: *tis wit in them; (1) Paltry. (2) Knotted.Scene I FOR MEASURE. 36) But, in less, fou] profanation, “cto. Thou art in the ric] / ao, Th it in the ¢ aptain’s but a ¢ holeric word, Wh cn in the s dic ris flat blasphe my. L cio. Art advis’d o’ th it F more ‘on’t. “ing. Why do you put these / tb. Because ar uthor T j } > Hath yet a kind f ; ent, girl: moreo that. sayings upon me ? rity, though it err Jj] if ce othe rs, med ne in itself, ["} il skims thi Vice Q’ eat top Go to your boson: H | } ] j } ‘ | : ] } AN < there na SK your heart, what it d, th know | it’s e my | ther’s fault: if it confess ne SS, SUC i) as 18 his, tn und a th uent upon your tonoue Ao tmNSsSt MV hy ther’s | fe. Ang’. She speaks, and 'tic Such sense, that my Sense breeds with it.—_F are YOU Wwe le Tsah. Gent my lord, turn back. /ing. I will bethink me:—-Come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark, how I?ll bribe you: Good my lord, turn back Ang. How! bri Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share vith yo u. Lucio. You had marr’ lsah. Not with ve ne d all € lse, fond shekels of the teste dl eold, nose rates are either ric h or poor, ea f “ les them: but with true prayers, shall bi up in heave n, and enter there, ie SUTI-Trise : prayers irom preserved? souls, maids, whose minds are dedicate Do nothing t mp ral, ANE. s From fastine Well; come to me To Morrow. Lucio. (Jo tH * / ab. Ane. it is well: away. [ Astde to Isab. Heaven ke P your honour safe ! Amen: for ] (1) Atteste d, stamped, 2) Preserved frcm the corruption of the world362 MEASURE Act 1. Am that way going to temptation, [ Aside. Where prayers cross. Tsab. At what hour tu-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? Ane. At any time ’fore noon. Isab. Save your honour! { Ewe Luc. Isa. and Pro. Ang. From thee: even from thy virtue !— What's this? what’s this * Is this her fault, or mine ? The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is is That lying by the violet, in the sun, Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman’s lightness? Having waste e round enough, ; : Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, And pitch our evils there?! O, fie, fie, fie ' What dost thou? or what art thou, Aneelo? Dost thou desire her foully, for those things That make her eo0d ? QO, let her brothe live: Thieves for their robbery have authority, When judges steal the mselves. What? do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again, And feast upon her ey¢ s? What is’t I dream on? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation, that doth goad uson To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet With all her double vizour, art, and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite ;—Ever, till now, When men were fond, I smil’d, and wonder’d how. [ Exit. SCENE III—A room ina prison. Enter Duke, Ie yee oe habited like a Friar, and Provost. ~ Duke. Hail to you, provost; so, I think you are (1) See 2 Kings, xX. ‘ c 27Scene LIT. FOR MEASURE. 363 Daw . | : , . e Prov. [am the provost: What s your will, good [riar f Ta ) Duke. Bound by m) charity, and my bless’d ord r. [ come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison : do me the common right lo let me see them: and to make m« KNOW Ihe nature of their crim 8, that I may minister l’o them accordin ly. ‘rov. | would do more than that, if more were Enter Juliet. L ok, here « mes one; a gentlewoman of mine, Who falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister’d her r port: She is with « hild ; And he that got it, sentenc’d: a young man More fit to do another such offence ; Than di iOr this, Duke. When must he die? Prov. AsI do think, to-morrow. I have provided for you; stay awhile. [7Z’o Juliet And you shall be conducted. ’ Duke. Re pent you, fair one, of the sin you carry { Juliet. | do: and bear the shame most patiently, Duke. Vl teach you how you shall arraign your CONsSCIence, And try youn penitence, if it be sound, Or hollow ly put on. Juliet. [’}] gladly learn. Duke. Love you the man that wrone’d you? Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong’d him. Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed ? Jultet. : Mutually. Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. Juliet. 1 do confess it, and repent it, father. Due. ’Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do repent,364 MEASURE Act IT. As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,— Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven ; we'd not spare! heaven, as we love it, But as we stand in fear,— Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil ; And take the shame with joy. Duke. There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, Showing =) And | am going with instruction to him.— Grace go with you! Benedicite ! (Ect. Juliet. Must die to-morrow ! O, injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! Prov. Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. SCENE 1V.—A roomin Angelo’s house. Enter Angelo. Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and : pray To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name ; And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil Of my conception: The state, whereon | studied, Is like a good thine, being often read, Grown fear’d and tedious : yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, Could I, with boot,? change for an idle plume, Which the air beats for vain. O place ! O form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood: Let’s write good angel on the devil’s horn, "Tis not the devil’s crest. (1) Spare to offend heaven. (2) Profit. (3) Outside.Scene IV. FOR MEASURE. 365 Enter Servant. How now, who’s there? Serv. One Isabel, a sister, Desires access to you. Ane. leach her the way. [Ev. Serv. © heavens! Why does my blood thus muster to my heart ; Ma it both it unable [Or itself, And dispossess Ing all the other parts [4 Ces ry itne Ss Nel the foolish thy nes with one that SWOONS ; Come all to he p him, and so stop the air By which he s] ld revive: and even so % Yh Quit Cro feneral,’ subject to a well-wish’d kine, their own part, and in obs. quious fondness id tO his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. E’nter Isabella. Low now, fair maid? Tsal l am come to know your pleasure. Ang. That you might know it, would much be ller please me, lemand what’tis. Your brother cannot live, Isab. Even so ?—Heaven ke ep your honour ! f Re hiring. Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be, As long as you, or I: Yet he must ‘lie. : Isab. Under your sentence ? Ange. Yea. Isab. When, I beseex h you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, That his soul sicken not. Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their Saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven’s image, In stamps that are forbid: ’tis all as easy (1 PeopleMEASURE Falsely to take away a life true made, As to put mettle in restrained means, To as a false one. Tsab. ’Tis set dow nso in heaven, but not in earth. Ang. Say youso? then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you rather, That the most just law Now took your brother’s life; or, to redeem him, Give up youn bi dy to such sweet uncleanness, As she that he hath stain’d ? Isab. Sir, believe this, l had rather give my body than my soul. « ing. | talk not of your soul : Our compell’d sins Stand more for number than accompt. Tsab. How say you? Ang. Nay, ll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing | say. Answer to this ;— F DoW the vi ice of the rec orde d law, 366 Pronounce a sentence on your brother’s life : Might there not be a charity in sin, To save this cies! s life? Tsab. Please you to do’t, I’ll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. Ane. Pleas’d you to do’t, at pe ril of your soul, Were qual poize of sin and charity. feds That I do bee his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your, answer. Ang. Nay, but hear me: Your sense pursue Subtrints: ee ignorant, Or seem so, craftily - and that’s not good. | Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am po better. Ang. ‘Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Pioclaim an enshield! beauty ten times louder Enshielded, cove red.Scene IV. FOR MEASURE. 367 Th in be auly could displaved.—But mark 4 T'o be receiy’d plain, Dll spi ak more eke Your brother is to die. 4 Isab. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain.! Isab. ‘True. /ling. Admit no other way to save his life (As 1 subscribe? not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,®) that you, his siste ry Finding yourself desir’d of such a person, W hose credit with th judge, or own creat place, Could fetch you! brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law: and that there were No « irthly mean to save him, but that ¢ ither You must La} down the treasures of your body J ) LOIS SUPPOSE d, or ¢ lse le { him suffer : 2 What would you do? Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: That is, Were I under the terms of a ath, ‘The impre ssion of keen whips l’d wear as rubies, } That ionLing [ have been sik k for, ere I’d yield My b dy up to shame. : Ane. ‘Then must your brother die. Isab. And ’twere the cheaper way : Better it were, a brother died at once, And Strip Myse lf to cle ath, as toa br d Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence ‘That you have slander’d so? Isa. lgnomy4 in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption. Ang. You seem’d of late to make the law a ty ; rant, And rather prov’d the sliding of your brother (1) Penalty. (2) Agree to. (3) Conversation, (4 Igenominy.368 MEASURE Act I, A merriment than a vice. Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we’d have, we speak not what we mean : I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Tsab. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary,! but only he, Owe,? and succeed by weakness. Ane. Nay, women are frail too, Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- selves: Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women !—I lelp heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail ; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints.3 Ane. I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold ; I do arrest your words; Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you’re none ; If you be one (as you are well express’d By allexternal warrants,) show it now, By putting on the destin’d livery. Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. ‘ ing. Plainly conceive, | love you. Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me, That he shall die for it. Jing. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know, your virtue hath a license in’t, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, (1) Associate. (2) Own. (3) Impressions.Scene IV. FOR MEASURE. 369 My Wwe rds express My purpose. [sab. Ha! little honour to be much belie vd ’ And most pernicious purpose — S« ( ming, seeming!! I will proclaim thee, Angelo: look for’t: i Or, with an outstretch’d throat, Ill tell the world Aloud, what man thou art. Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Ans. Who will believe the e, Isabel ? My unsoil’d name, the austereness of my life, \ly vouch? against you, and my place i’ the state, Will so you iccusation overweich, } ["} it you shall stifle In your own report, And smell of calumny. I have begun; And now I give my sensual race the rein: Fit thy « sent t my sharp appetite ; Lavy | nicety, and prolixious® blushes, That banish what they sue for ; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will O; € se ne must not only die the death, RB t tny unkindns ss shall his de ath draw out To | ering sufierance: answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, I’ll prove a tyrant to him: As for you, se o’erweighs your true. Extt. Tsah. To whom shall ] complain ? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, Say what you can, my fa Either of condemnation or approof ! Biddine the law make court’sy, to their will; Hook o both richt and wrone to the appetite, I'o follow as it draws! Ull to my brother: Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour, That t} d he twenty heads to tende r down On twenty bloody blocks, he’d vield them up, Be fi ‘ mis sister should he r body stoop do Su¢ h abhorr’d pollution, (1) Hypocrisy. 2) Attestation. (3) Reluctant a \SRT LS PARSE SEE 370 MEASURE Act II. Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die : More than our brother is our chastity. [ll tell him yet of Angelo’s request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul’s rest. [FE att. ——<——_ ACT III. SCENE I.— you had, Toa determin’d si ope. Claud. But in os nature ? Tsab. In -_ a one as (you consenting to’t) Would bark your honour from that sai you bear, And leave you né lis d. Claud. Let me know the point. Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio: and I quake Lest thou a feverous life ; should’st e nterts uin, And six or seven winters more re spect Than a perpetual honour. Dar’st thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. Claud. Why give you me this shame? ry - - Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, (1) Resident. (2) Preparation. (3) ‘astness of extent.Scene J. FOR MEASURE. 373 [ will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mins arms, Isab. Ther spake my brother : the re my father’s Se ie Se a voice! Yes, thou must die: ble to conse rve a life This outward-sainte d de puty, VW nose settled Visa and de libe rate word ; ; , rm + t? | Ss youth head ] ) ie head, and follies doth enm: w,! As falcon d th the towl, being: « ast, he would appear S deep as he I]. " Claud The princes ly Angelo? Isah. O. "tis the « unning livery of he ll, The damned’st h ly to invest and cover [In prince y guards !2 Dost tl Is yet a devil: ou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my Virginity, ] um it's { freed? Claud. O, heavens! it cannot be. Isab. Yes, he would give it the e, from this rank off nce, So to offend him still - This nicht’s the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest to-morrow. Claud Thou shalt not do’t Isah, QO, were it but my life, I'd throw it down for your deliverance As frankly: as a pin. Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. Isah. Be re ady, Claudio, for your death to-mor f } | i row. Claud. Yes.—Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it ? Sure itis no SIN 3 Or of the deadly seven it is the least. Isab. Which is the least? Claud. If it were d iumnable * he, be Ing” £0 wise, Why, would he for the mom ntary trick : ) pao ‘ @ (2\ Eros (1) Shutup. (2) Laced robes. (3) Freely.374 MEASURE Act TT. Be perdural ly! fin *d ?-—(O, Isa bel ! Isab. What s: ays my brother Claud. De Pies is a fearful thing. Tsab. And shamed life a hateful. Claud. Ay, but to die, and gowe know not where; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded cold; and the delight d spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison ’d in the viewless2 winds, And blown with restless violence ene about The pe ndent world ; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless oO incertain thoughts Imagine howling !—’tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age,ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lav on nature, Is a paradise To what we fear of death. [sab. Alas! alas! Claud. Sweet sister, let me live: What sin you do to save a brother’s life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far, That it becomes a virtue. Isab. O, you beast O. faithless coward! O, di shonest wre oa Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Ts’t not a kind of incest, to take life From thine own sister’s shame? What should I think ? Heaven shield, my mother play’d my father fair! For such a warpe ‘d slip of w ilderness® Ne’er issu’d from his blood. Take my defiance ‘4 Die; perish! might but my poe down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should ee Pll pray a thousand prayers for thy death No word to save thee. (1) Lastingly. (2) Invisible. (3) Wildness. (4) Refusal.Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 375 Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. Isab O, fie, fie, fie ' T ny sin’s not accidk ntal, but a trad Santee Me rcy to thee would prove itself a bawd: "Tis best that thou diest quickly. | Goins. Claud. O hear me, Isabella. Re-enter Duke. Dike. Vour hsafe a word, young siste ry but one [sab. What is your will] ? Duke. Micht you dispense with vour leisure, | would by and Dy have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewis your own [sab. [have no superfluous leisure : my stay must be stolen out of other affairs: but I will attend you ce. [To Claudio, aside.) Son, I have over- l what hath passed between you and your sis- te! Arner lo had never the Purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue , to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, } having the truth of honour In he Ie iath made him that gracious denial whi h he is most elad to re- ceive: [ am confessor to Ane lo, and [ know this to by (rue ; therefore pre pare yourself to death: do not satisly your resolution with hopes that are fallible : lo-morrow you must die; go to your knees, and out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. Duke. Hold? vou there: farewell. | Aa. Claud Re-enter Provost. Provost, a word with vou. Prov. What’s your will, father ? ‘1) An established habit. 2) Continue in that resolution. ~~376 MEASURE Act III. Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone leave me shi with the maid ; my mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my com pany. Prov. In geaod time. [Exit Provost. Duke. The hand that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the goodness, that is cheap in be auty, makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body of it ever fair. The nesauit, that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey’d to my under- standing ; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother ! Isab. I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law, than my son should be unlawfully born. But O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he re- turn, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. Duke. That shallnot be much amiss: yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation ; he made trial of you only.—Therefore, fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit ; redeem your bro- ther from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person ; and much please the absent duke, if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hear- ing of this business. Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have not you heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea? Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good wor Is went with her name,Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 377 Duke. Her should this Angelo have married ; was afhianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed - between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that pe rish’d vessi l the dowry of his sister. But mark, how heavily this befe to the pool gentlewoman : there she lost a noble and re nowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her for- » her marriage-dowry ; with both, her combi- nate! husband, this well-seemine Anvelo. [sal Can this bs sor Did Ange lo so le ave her ? Duke. Left her in her tears. and dry’d not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows w hole, ding, in her, discoveries of dishonour : in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her lears, IS Washed with them, but relents not, lsab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What« orruption in this life, that it will let this man live '—But how out ol this can she avail ? Duke. It isa rupture that you may easily heal and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. Tsah. Show me how, cood father. Duke. ‘This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his unjust ull kindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Ange- lo: answer his requiring with a plausible obedi- ence; agree with his demands to the point : only refer? yourself to this advantage,—first, that your stay with him mav not be long : that the time may have all shadow and silence init: and the place answer to convenience: this being granted in (1) Betrothed. (2) Gave her up to her sorrows (3) Have recourse to.ees a Serer 378 MEASURE Act II. course, now follows all. We shall advise this wrongeu maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place ; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense . and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled.!- The maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from r proof. What think you pf itt Isab. The image of it gives me content already ; and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous per- fection. Duke. It lies much in your holding up: haste you spe dily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. Luke’s; there, at the moated grange,2 resides this dejected Mariana: at that place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. Tsab. 1 thank you for this comfort: fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II.—The street before the prison. En- ter Duke, as a friar ; to him Elbow, Clown, and Officers. Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown ard white bastard.3 Duke. O, heavens! what stuff is here ? Clo. *>T'was never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allow’d by order of law a furr’d gown to keep him warm; and furr’d with fox and lamb-skins (1) Over-reached. (2) A solitary farm-house (3) A siveet wine.Scene IT. FOR MEASURE, 379 too, to signify, that craft, being richer than inno- cency, stands for the facing. Eilb. Com your way, sir:—Bless you, good father friar. Duke And you, eood brother fath r: What offi nee hath this an made you, $1 I Eels. VI irry, Sir, he hath off nded the law: and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir: for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock!, which we Nave sent t the deputy I Duke. Fie, sirrah; a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live: do thou but think V\ hat’tis to cram a maw, or ¢ lothe a bar k, From such i filthy vice: say to thyself,— I rom their abomindble and beastly tou hes I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, », mend, Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir 3 but Oo { st. } er So stinkine ly depending Go, mend, yet, Sir, Il would prove — Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his. ‘Take him to prison, officer ; ~ ection and instruction must both work, Ere this rude beast will pre fit. Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he bea whoremoneer, and comes before him, he were as ood ¢o a mile on his errand. Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free! Ente r Lue 10. Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord,? sir. Clo. | spy comfort; I cry, bail: here’s a gens Jeman, and a friend of mine. (1) For a Spanish padlock. (2) Tied like ycur waist witha rope.380 MEASURE Act III. Lucio. How now, noble Pompey ? What, at the neels of Cesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion’s images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting it clutch’d? What reply? Ha? What say’st thou to this tune, matter, and method ? Is’t not drown’d i’ the last rain? Ha? What say’st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Orhow? The trick of it? Duke. Still thus, and thus ! still worse! Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress ? Procures she still? Ha? Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.! Lucio. Why, ’tis eood; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore, and your pow- der’d bawd: an unshunn’d consequence; it must be so: art going to prison, Pompey? Clo. Yes, faith, SIr. Lucio. Why, ’tis not amiss, Pompey: farewell : £0 ; say, [ sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey ? Or how P Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. Well, then imprison him: if imprison- ment be the due of a bawd, why, ’tis his right: bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd- born. Fare well, 00d Pompe} 5 commend me tc the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey ; you will keep the house.? Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not the wear.’ I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.—Bless you, friar. (1) Powdering tub. (2) Stay at home. (3) Fashion.Scene IT. FOR MEASURE. 381 Duke. And you. Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. Clo. You will not bail me the n, sir? Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now.—What news abroad, friar? what news? Eilb. Come your ways, sir; come. Lucio. Go, to kennel, Pompey, go: Exeunt Elbow, Clow n, and Officers What new s, friar, of the duke? Duke. | know none: can you tell me of any ? Lucio. Somes iy, he is with the emperor of Rus- sia; Other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you Duke. | know not where: but wheresoever, ] wish him well. Lau 10. It wasa mad fantastical trick of him, to Steal from the state, and usurp the heggary he Was never born to. Lord Anes lo duke ee well in his absence: he puts transgression to’t. Duke. He does well in’t. Lucio. A little more | nity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar. Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally’d: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be putdown. ‘They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, aftey the downright way of ; creation: is it true, think you? Duke. How should he be made then ? Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn’d him :— Som ‘ that he was be fot between two stock-fishes : but it is certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeal’d ice: that I know to be true: and he is a motion! ungenerative, that’s infallible. (1) Puppet. \382 MEASURE Act I. Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take away the life of a man? Would the duke, that 1s absent, have done this? Ere he would have hang’d a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feel- ing of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. Duke. I never heard the absent duke much de- tected! for women; he was not inclined that way Lucio. O, sir, you are deceived. Duke. *Tis not possible. Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty ;—and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in him: he would be drunk too; that let me inform you. Duke. You do him wrong, surely. Lucie Sir, I was an inward of his: a shy fel- low war the duke: and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing. Duke What, I pr’ythee, might be the cause ? Lucic. No,—pardon;—’tis a secret must be lock’d w'thin the teeth and the lips: but this I can let you ui di rstand.— The greater file2 of the sub- jectheld the dulre to be wise. ~ Duke Wise? why, no question but he was. Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unw eighing® fellow. Duke. E.then ti‘s is envy ir vou, folly, or mms- taking; the very etream cf his life, and the business ae | he hath helmea,? must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but tes- timonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious, a scholar, a statesroan, and a soldier: therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if (1) Suspected. (2) The majority of his subjects (3) Inconsiderate. (4) Guided.Scene LI FOR MEASURE. your knowledge be more, it is much darken’d in your in lic e, Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know. Duke. | can hardly believ« that, since you know i 1 > , . } 7 not what you speak. but, if ever the duke return I a 18 Our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to make your answer befor him: if it be honest you h ive SDOKE . vou h ive couraLce fo maintain it: | am bound to call upon you; and, I p ay you, your Dari Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to duke. Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. é Lucio. 1 fear you not. Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more ; th or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite.! But, inde ‘ G. | can do you little harm: you'll forswear this azain Lucio. V\l be hane’d first: thou art deceived in sut no more of this: canst thou tell, if > me, friar. | Claudio die to-morrrow, or no Duke. Why should he die , sir? Lucio. Why ? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish. l would, the duke. we talk of, were return’d again: this ungenitur’d agent will unpeople the province with continency ; sparrows must not build in his house-¢ aves, bec ause the Y are le che rous. The duke vet would have dark deeds darkly answer’d: he would never bring them to lizht : would he were re- turn’d! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for un- trussine. Farewell, good friar; I pr’ythee, pray for me. The duke, I savy to thee again, would eat mut- ton2 on Fridays. He’s now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she (1) Opponent. (2) Have a wench.cE eee ee St Tr ne 384 MEASURE Act I. smelt brown bread and garlic: say, that I said so. Farewell. [Exits Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure ’scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes: What king so strong, Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue hoa But who comes here? 3awd, and Officers. Escal. Go, away with ae {o prison. Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me ; your honour is accounted a merciful man: good my lord. Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit! in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant. Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may t please your honour. Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio’s information against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with child by him inthe duke’s time, he promised her marriage ; his child is a year ang a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and e how he 20es about to abuse me. Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license —let him be called before us.—Away with her to prison : Go to; no more words. | Exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter’d, Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable pre- paration : if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. Escal. Good even, good father. Duke. Bliss and goodness on you ? Esscal. Of whence are you. Duke. Not of this country, though my chance is now Enter Escalus, Provost (1) Transgress,Scene IT. FOR MEASURE. To use it for my time: I ama brother Of gracious order, late come from the see, In special business from his holiness. E’scal. What news abroad i’ the world? Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever o on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it; novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be constant in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive, to make societies secure: but security enough, tomake fellow ships accurs’d: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day’s news. . 1 I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke ? E’scal. One, that, above all other strife s, conte nd- know himself. Duke. What pleasure was he given to? eda espe rally tO Escal. Rather rejoi ine to see another merry, than merry at any thine whi h profe ss’d to make him rejoice: agentleman of all t mperance. But leave we him to his events, witha prayer they may prove prosperous : and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. Iam made to understand, that you have lent him visitation. Duke. He prof sses to have received no sinister i measures from his judge, but most willingly hum- bles himself to the determination of justice : yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved! to die. E’scal. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. 1 have labour’d for the poor gentleman, to the ex- tremest shore of my mode sty; but my brother jus- tice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him, he is indeed— justice. Duke. If his own life answers the straitness of Satisfied. (1)386 MEASURE Act IV. his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein, if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner: Fare you well. Duke. Peace be with you! [Ezeunt Escalus and Provost. He, who the sword of heaven will bear, Should be as holy as severe ; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go ; More nor less to others paying, Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him, whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking ! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my. vice, and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side ! How may likeness,! made? in crimes, Making practice on the times, Draw with idle spiders’ strings Most pond’rous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply : With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed, but despis’d ; So diszuise shall, by the disguis‘d, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. - [Exit —p-——. “Fr T ACT TV. SCENE I.—A room in Mariana’s house. Mari- ana discovered sitting ; a Boy singing. SONG. Yake, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; (2) Trained. / (1) Appearance.Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 387 And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, 2 oe bring again, Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, seal’d in Varn. Mart. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away ; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still’d my brawling discontent.— | Eval Boy. Enter Duke. I cry you mercy, sir: and well could wish You had not found me here so musical : Let me excuse me, and believe me so,— My mirth it much displeas’d, but ple as’d my wo. ‘Duke. Tis good: though music oft hath sucha To make bad, good, and good provoke to harm. I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquire d for me he re to- lay? much upon this time have | promis’d io meet, I here t Mari. You have not been inquire d after: I have sat here all clay. Ente i Isabella. ' Duke. I do onstantly believe you does | TS time is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little; may be, I will call upon you anon, for Mari. I am always bound to you. {[ Eaut Duke. Very well met, and welcome. What is the news from this good de puty ? Isah. He hatha garden circummur’d! with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back’d; And to that vineyard is a plan hed2 gate, That mal This other doth command a little door, : ir scame advantage to yoursell. ces his opening with this bigger key: (1) Walled round. (2) Planked, wooden. 2Bre FRET si ei . 388 MEASURE Act IF. Which from the vineyard to the garden leads, There have I made-my promise to call on him, Upon the heavy middle of the night. Duke. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? Isab. I have ta’en a due and wary note upon’t ; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action allof precept, he did show me The way twice o’er. Duke. Are there no other tokens Between you ’greed, concerning her observance ? Isab. No, none, but only a repair i’ the dark ; And that I have possess’d! him, my most stay Can be but brief: for I have made him know, { have a servant comes with me along, Chat stays? upon me; whose persuasion is, : come about my brother. Duke. Tis well borne up. ' have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this :—What, ho! within! come forth! Re-enter Mariana. [ pray you, be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good. Isab. I do desire the like. Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you! Mari. Good friar, I know you do; and have found it. . Duke. .Take then this your companion by the hand, Nho hath a story ready for your ear: \ shall attend your leisure; but make haste ; The vaporous night approaches. Marr. Will’t please you walk aside ? [Exeunt Mariana and Isabella Duke. O place and greatness, millions of false eyes : (1) Informed (2) Waits.IT. Scene FOR MEASURE. Are stuck upon thee! volumes of report Run with these false and most contrarious quests! Upon thy doings! thousand ’s« apes? of wit M ike thee the father of their idle dre am, And rack thee in their fancies '!'—Welcome ! How oo acreed f Re-enter Mariana and Isabella. [sab. She'll take the ent rprize upon her, father, If you advise it. Duke. It is not my consent, But my entreaty too, : Tsab, Little have you to say, When vou di Remem Marr. Fear me not. Duke. Nor, gentle dauchter, fear you not at all; He is your husband ona pre-« ontract : i rt from him, but, soft and low, nber now my brother. To brine you thus torethe r, tis no sin: Sith3 that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish’ the deceit. (¢ ome, let us go; Our corn’s to reap, for yet our tithe’ss to sow. | Exeunt. SCENE 1IIL—A room in the prison. Enter Provost and Clown. Prov. Come hithe r man’s head. £ ‘an you cutoff a Clo. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can: hut if he is his wife’s head, and I can never cut off a woman’s head. he be a merried man, Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a directanswer. To-morrow morning are to die ( land ) and Barnardine : here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves;$ if not, (1) Inquisitions, inquiries. 2) Sallies. (3) Since. | Gild or varnish over. 5) Tilth, land prepared for sowing. (6) Fetters390 MEASURE ict IF. you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for vou have been a notorious bawd. ” Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a law- ful haneman. Iwould be glad to receive some in struction from my fellow partner. Prov. What ho, Abhorson ! Where’s Abhorson, there? Enter Abhorson. Abhor. Do you « all, sir? Prov. Sirrah, here’s a fellow will help you to- morrow in your execution: if you think him meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you: if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him: he cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. Abhor. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will dis- credit our mystery.! Prov. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. [ Exit. Clo. Pray, sir, by your vood favour (for, surely, sir, a good favour? you have, but that you have a hanging look,) do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery ‘“Abhor. Ay, sir; a mystery. Clo. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery ; and your whores, sir, being members of my occu- pation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there should be in hang- ing, if I should be hane’d, I cannot imagine. Abhor. Sir, it isamystery. Clo. Proof. 2 : Abhor. Every true? man’s apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough ; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man’s apparel fits your thief. (1) Trade. (2) Countenance. (3) Honest.Scene IT. FOR MEASURE. Re-enti r Prove st. Prov. \re you agreed ? Clo. Sir, I will serve him: for I do find. your haneman is a more penitent trade than vour bawd: he doth oftener ask forziveness Faarynt + ‘ ory | ] ! Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and your vy } « . *s Clo. I do desire to learn, sir: and, 1 hope. if vou 1 . - ‘ nave occasion to use me for your own turn, you hall fire waves ; purch ‘ 1} : asea oy such he } Hen en nh ohence fis ¢ iT celierity i ; When it is e in hig uthority KT } + ynonen vice makes m CY, mercy s so extended, That for the la it’s ve, Is lhe offender friended.— - , . , . Prov. I told you: Lord Angelo, belike, think- Ine me remiss in min office, iwakens me with his unwonted Duttne on: methinks, Strangely ; for he hath not us da it Defore. Di ke, Py Ly YOU, it t’s he ar. Pro ; Ry ads i] natsoever you may hear to the c yntrary, let Claudio bi ecuted | U four of the clock a and. 7 thre as tlerv TL, Barn trdume for my betler satisfaction, let me have Claudio’s fieéa l sent meoy five. Let t/irs he duly performad: with a thought, that more depends on ul than we must yet deli 1e7’. LT iu s fui nol to do your office, as you will answer tt af 2 ur pe ril. W hat Say you to this Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in the afternoon ? Prov. A Bohemian born: but here nursed up and bred: one that is a prisoner nine years old.2 Duke. How cam {e that the absent duke had not either deliver’d him to his libs rty, or executed him? I have heard, it was ever his manner to do so. Prov. His friends still wroucht reprieves for him : and, indeed, his fact, till now in the rovern- 1) Spur, incitement. 2) Nine years in prisonpe area ie aeerecssomnend aa = 394 MEASURE Act IV, ment of lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtfu proof. Duke. Is it now ¢ oe rent ? Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. Duke. Hath he borne himself pe snitently in prison ? How seems he to be touch’d? Prov. A man that ap yprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep; careless, reck- less, and fearless of what’s past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. Duke. He wants advice. Prov. He will hear none : he ere had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days entire ly drunk. We have very of- ten awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and show’d him a seeming warrant for it: it hath not mov’d him at all. Duke. More of him anon. There is written in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay my- self in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have a warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced him: to make you unde ‘stand this ina manifested effect, I crave but four days respite ; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. Prov. Pray, sir, in what? Duke. In the del aying d leath. Prov. Alack ! how ms ry I doit? having the hour limited ; ard an « xpress commi and, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio’s, to cross this in the smallest. Duke. By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, if my instructions mé ry be your euide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head be borne to Angelo,Scene II. FOR MEASURE. 395 Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.! Duke. O, death’s a great diszuiser: and you may add to it. Shave the he id, an 1 tie the beard ; and s 1y, it was the desire of t bared before his death: you he penitent to be so know, the course is common, If any thine fall to you up n this, more than thanks ind food fortune, DY the saint whom | profess, | VN || plead asainst it With my life. Prov Bice 1 fil : ‘di ie Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine’s head: I will give him a present shrift, and advise (1) Countenance.2 396 MEASURE Act IV. him for a better place. Yet you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. | Exeunt. SCENE III.—Another roomin the same. Enter Clown. Clo. I amas well acquainted here, as I was in our house of profession: one would think, it were mis- tress Over-done’s own house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here’s young master Rash; he’s in fora commodity of brown paper and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he made five marks, ready money: marry, then, ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead. ‘Then is there here one master Ca- per, at the suit of master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-colour’d satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, — young master Deep-vow, and master C op- per-spur, and master Starve-lack y the rapier and Sek. and young Drop-heir that kill’d lusty Pudding, and master Forthrieht the tilter, and brave master Shoe-tie the great traveller, cad wild Half-cann that stabb’d Pots, and, I think, forty more ; all great doers in our trade, and are now for the Lord’s sake. Enter Abhorson. Abhor. Sirrah, brine Barnardine hither. Clo. Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hane’d, master Barnardine. Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine ! Barnar. | W ithi wn.| A pox o’ your throats ! Who makes that noise there? What are you? Clo. Your friends, sir; the hangman: you must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. Barnar, [Within.] Away, you rogue, away ; I am sleepy. : Abhor. Tell him, he must awak quickly too. e, and thaScene IIT. FOR MEASURE. 397 Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out. Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; I hear his straw rustle, Enter Barnardine. Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? Clo. Very ready, sir. B..rnar. How now, Abhorson? what’s the news with yoa? Abfor. Traly sir, I would desire you to lap ( < you, the warrant’s come. Barnar. You rogue, I have been drinking all night, | am not fitted for’t. a Clo. O, the better, sir: for he that drinks all night, and is hang’d betimes in the morning, may , ; ? sleep the sounder all the next day, Ente r Duke, Abhor. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father: do we i st now, think you? : Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and he aring how hastils you ar to dk part, | am come to advise you, comilort you, % Barnar. Friar. n rt 1] : 1} all nizht, and { will have more tims lo prepare me, ind pray with you. |: | have been drinking hard or they shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that’s certain. Ditke. (), sir, you must: and therefore, I be- SC et hy you, Look for l an the tanmed hall ¢ OOK torward on the journey you sna £0. Barnar. I swear, I lly lie to-day for any sarnar. swear, 1 will not die to-day for any man’s persuasion. Duke. But hear you,-—- Barnar. Not a word; if you have any thing to say to me, come tomy ward; for thence will not I ; zr to-day. [ Exit, Enter Provost. Duke. Unfit to live, or die: O, cravel heart !—398 MEASURE Act IP. After him, fellows; bring him to the block. [Exeunt Abhorson and Clown. Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? Duke. A creature unprepar’d, unmeet for death ; And, to transport him in the mind he is, Were damnable. Prov. Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notoyious pirate, A man of Claudio’s years; his beard, and head, Just of his colour : What if we do omit This reprobate, till he were well inclin’d ; And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of Ravozine, more like to Claudio? Duke. O, ’tisan accident that Heaven provides! Despatch it presently ; the hour draws on Prefix’d by Angelo: See, this be done, And sent according to command; whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. Prov. This shall be done, “ood father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon: And how shall we continue Claudio, To save me from the danger that might come, ? If he were known alive: Duke. Let this be done;—Put them in secret holds, Both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice ‘The sun hath made his journal greeting to The under generation,! you shall find Your safety manifested. Prov. 1 am your free dependant. Duke. Quick, despatch, And send the head to Angelo. { Eart Provost. Now will I write letters to Angelo,— The provost, he shall bear them,—whose contents Shall witness to him, I am near at home; And that, by great injunctions, I am bound To enter publicly: him I'll desire { (1) The antipodes.Scene ITI. FOR MEASURE. ‘To meet me at the consecrated fount, A league below the city ; and from thence, By cold gradation and weal-balanced form, We shall proceed with Angelo. Re-enter Provost. Prov. Here is the head; I'll carry it myself. Duke. Convenient is it: Make a swift return ; For I would commune with you of such things ‘That want no ear but yours. Prov. I'l] make all speed. | Haat Isah. { Within.) Peace, ho, be here! Duke. The tongue of Isabel:—She’s come to know, If yet he r brothe r’s pardon be come hit! But I will keep her ignorant of her aad To make her heavenly comforts of de spair, When it is least expect d. Enter Isabella. Isab. Ho, by your leave. Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daucht e Isab. ‘The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the di puty sent my brother’s pardon ? Duke. He hath releas’d him, at from the world: His head is off, and sent to Angelo. Tsab. Nay, but it is not so. Duke. It is no other: Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close pa- tience. Tsab. O, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes. Duke. Youshall not be admitted to his sight. Isab. Unhappy er Wretched Isabel! Injurious world! Most damned Angelo! Duke. This nor ais pn nor profits you a jot Forbear it therefore ; give your cause to Heaven, Mark what I say; which you shall find,400 MEASURE Act IV. By every syllable, a faithful verity : The duke comes home to-morrow ;—nay, dry your eyes ; One of our convent, and his confessor, Gives me this instance: Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo ; Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go; And you shall have your bosom! on this wretch, Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour. Isab. Iam directed by you. Duke. This letter then to friar Peter give ; *Tis that he sent me of the duke’s return : Say, by this token, I desire his company At Mariana’s house to-night. Her cause, and yours, Ill perfect him withal; and he shall bring you Before the duke; and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home, and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow, And shall be absent. Wend? you with this letter « Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart; trust not my holy order, If I pervert your course.—Who’s here? Enter Lucio. Tnucio. Good even ! Friar, where is the provost ? Duke. Not within, sir. Lucio. O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes so red: thou must be pa- tient: I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran: I dare not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set me to’t: But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I lov’d thy brother: if the old fantastical duke of (1) Your heart’s desire. (2) Go.401 Scene IV. FOR MEASURE. dark corners had been at home, he had lived. Ext [sabella. Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholden to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them. Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do: he’s a better woodman than thou takest him for. Duke. Well, you’ll answer this one day. Fare ye \We ll. : ; Lucio. Nay, tarry; Pll go along with thee; I can tell thee pre (ty tales of the duke. Duke. You have told me too many of him al- ready, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough. Lucio. | was once before him for getting a wench with child. Duke. Did you such a thing ? Lucio. Yes, marry. did I: but was fain to for- swear it; they would else have married me to the rotten me dlar. Duke. Sir, your company is fairer than honest Rest you well. : Lucio. By my troth, ’ll go with thee to the lane’s end: If bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of it: Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr, I shall stic] ; Exeunt IN. SCENE IV.—A room in Angce!o’s house. Enter Angelo and Escalus. Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath dis- ,our h’d! other. Ane. In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness: pray Heaven, his wisdom be not tainted! And why meet him at the eates, and re-deliver our authorities there ? Escal. I guess not. Ang. And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering, that ifany crave redress of injus (1 ) Contradicted.,eal NEI aot cS = a A02 MEASURE Act IP. tice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? E'scal. He shows his reason for that: to have a despatch of complaints ; and to deliver us from de- vices hereafter, which shall then have no power ta stand against us. Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim’d : Betimes i? the morn, I’ll call you at your house : Give notice to such men of sort and suit,! As are to meet him. Escal. I shall, sir: fare you well. [E-t. Ang. Good night.— This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpreg- nant, And dull to all proceedings. A deflower’d maid! And by an eminent body, that enfore’d The law against it!—-But that her tender shame Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, How might she tongue me? Yet reason dares? her?—no: For my authority bears a credent? bulk, That no particular scandal once can touch, But it confounds the breather.4 He should have liv’d, Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense, Micht, in the times to come, have ta’en revenge, By so receiving a dishonour'd life, , With ransom of such shame. *Would yet he had liv’d! Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right; we would and we would not. | Exet. SCENE V.—Fields without the town. Enter Duke in his own habit, and Friar Peter. Duke. These letters at fit time detiver me. [ Giving: letters The provost knows our purpose, and our plot. (1) Figure and rank. (2) Calls, challenges her to do it. (3) Credit unquestionable. (4) Utterer.Scene VI. FOR MEASURE. 403 The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, And hold you ever to our special drift ; Though sometimes you do blench! from this to that, As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius’ house, And tell him where I stay: give the like notice, To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; But send me Flavius first. F. Peter. It shall be speeded well. [Eazt Friar. Enter Varrius. Duke. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made eood haste: Come, we will walk : There’s other of our friends Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. { Ee. SCENE VI.—Street near the city gate. Enter Isabella and Mariana. . Tsah. To speak so indirectly, I am loath: I would say the truth; but to accuse him sO, That is your part: yet I’m advis’d to do it; He says, to veil full? purpose. Mari. Be rul’d by him. Isah. Besides, he tells me, that, if pe radventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange: for ’tis a physic, it’s bitter to sweet end. Mari. I would, friar Peter.— Isab. O, peace; the friar is come. Enter Friar Peter. F. Peter. Come, Ihave found you outa stand most fit, : Where you may have such vantage’ on the duke, He shall not pass you: ‘Twice have the trumpets sounde d: The renerous’ and gravest citizens ) (1) Start off. (2) Availful. (3) Advantage 4) Most noble. VOL. iL 2Cee ER Sor: ea 404 MEASURE Have hent! the gates, and very near upon The duke isent’ring ; therefore hence, away. [ Exe. Act V. —~— O heaven! the vanity of wretched fools !— Give us some seats.—Come, cousin Angelo; In this I'll be impartial ; be you judge Of your own cause.—Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face ; and, after, speak. Mart. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my face, ntil my husband bid me. Duke. What, are you married? Mart. No, my lord. Duke. Are you a maid? Mart. No; my lord. Duke. A widow then? Mari. Neither, my lord. Duke. Why, you ‘ (1) Simple. (2) Convened. (3) PubliclySS Sea a ‘ ce Perrbice , 2 ae TEPz SARIS rr = ty 7 Pres ns a cd a ab sont = = e a " a < 1 Pe | 410 MEASURE Acs: Are nothing then :— Neither maid, widow, nor wife? Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk ; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had some cause To prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. Marr. My lord, I do confess I ne’er was married , And, I confess, besides, I am no maid : I have known my husband; yet my husband knows not, That ever he knew me. Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no better. Duke. For the benefit of silence, ’would thou wert so too. Lucio. Well, my lord. Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo. Mari. Now I come to’t, my lord : She, that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband ; And charges him, my lord, with such a time, When I’]: depose I had him in mine arms, With all the effect of love. Ang. Charges she more than me? Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No? you say, your husband. Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks, he knows, that he ne’er knew my body, But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel’s. Ang. This is a strange abuse :'—Let’s see thy face. Mari. My husband bids me ; now I will unmask. [ Unveiling. Thisis that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which, once thou swor’st, was worth the looking on: This is the hand, which, with a vow’d contract, Was fast belock’d in thine: this is the body (1) Deception.Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 411 That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-honse, In her imagin’d person. Duke. Know you this woman? Lucio, Carnally, she says. Duke. Sirrah, no more, Lucio. Enough, my lord. Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this woman ; And, five years since, there was some speech of Marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly, for that her promised proportions Came short of composition ;! but, in chief, For that her re putation was disvalued In levity: since which time of five years, [ never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Up mn my faith and honour. Marv. Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven, and words from bre ith, As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, I am affiane’d this man’s wife, as strongly As words could make up vows : and, my good lord, But ‘Tuesd iy night last gone, in his garden-house, He knew me as a wife: As this Is true Let me in safety. raise me from my knees; Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument! Ane. I did but smile till now ; Now, gr od my lord, rive me the s« ope of justice ; My pale nce he re is touc h’d : | do perce ive, ‘These poor inform il2 women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member, That sets them on: Let me have way, m) lord, To find this prac tice? out. Duke. Ay, with my heart; (1) Her fortune fell short. (2) Crazy. \ ) ’ sworn eer 3) Conspiracy. f \Sr ee wn ETS = 412 MEASURE Act V. And punish them unto your height of pleasure.— Thou foolish friar ; and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that’s gone! think’st thou, thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit, That’s sealed in approbation ?—You, lord Escalus Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence ’tis deriv’d.— There is another friar that set them on; Let him be sent for. F’. Peter. Would he were here, my lord; forhe, indeed, Hath set the women on to this complaint: Your provost knows the place where he abides, And he may fetch him. Duke. Go, do it instantly.— [Exit Provost. And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,! Do with your injuries as seems you best, In any chastisement: I for a while Will leave you ; but stirnot you, till you have well Determined upon these slanderers. Escal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly.—[ Exit Duke.] Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ? Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum: honest in nothing, but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke. Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow. Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word. Escal. Cull that same Isabel here once again; f [To an attendant. | I would speak with her: Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question you shall see how I'll handle her. ? (1) To the end.Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 413 Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report. Escal. Say you? Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess ; perchance, publicly she’ll be ashamed. Re-enter Officers, with Isabella: the Duke, in the SJriar’s habit, and Provost. Escal. I will zo darkly to work with her. Lucio. That's the way; for women are light at midnight. E-scal. Come on, mistress : { Z'o Isabella.] here’s rentlewoman denies all that you have said. Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here, with the provost. a E’scal. In very good time: sneak not you to bim, till we call upon you. Lucio. Mum. E'scal. Come, sir: Did you set these women on to slander lord Angelo? the y have confess’d you did. Duke. *Tis false. E’scal. How! know you where you are? Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the de vil Be some time honour’d for his burning throne :-— Where is the duke? ’tis he should hear me speak. Escal. ‘The duke’s in us; and we will hear you speak : Look, you sp ak justly. Duke. Boldly, at least :—But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox ? Good night to your redress. Is the duke rone? Then is your cause gone too. The duke’s unjust, Thus to retort! your manifest appeal, And put your trial in the villain’s mouth, Which here you come to accuse. Lucio. This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow’d friar! (1) Refer back.MEASURE Act V. Is’t not enough, thou hast suborn’d these women To accuse this worthy man; but, in foul mouth, And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain ? And then to glance from him to the duke himself; To tax him with injustice >—Take him hence ; To the rack with him:—We’ll touze you joint by joint, But we will know this purpose :—What! unjust? Duke Be not so hot; the duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he Dare rack his own; his subject am I not, Nor here provincial :! My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble, Till it o’er-run the stew : laws, for all faults ; But faults so countenanc’d, that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits ina barber’s shop, As much in mock as mark. Escal. Slander to the state! Away with him to prison, Ang. What can you vouch against him, signior Lucio ? Is this the man that you did tell us of? Lucio. "Tis he, my lord.—Come hither, goodman bald-pate : Do you know me? Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice : I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke. Lucio. O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke ? Duke. Most notedly, sir. Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a flesh- monger, a fool, anda coward, as you then reported him to be? Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. (1) Accountable.Scene I. FOR MEASURE. 415 Lucio. O thou damnable fellow ! Did not I pluck thee by the nose, for thy speeches ? Duke. | protest I love the duke, as I love myself. Ang. Hark ! how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses. E'scal. Such a fellow is not to be talk’d withal — Away with hin to prison :— Where is the provost ? Away with him to prison ; lay bolts enouch upon bim; let him speak no more. Away with those giglots! too, and with the other confederate com- panion. | The Provost lays hands on the Duke. Duke. Stay, sir; stay a while. Ang VW hat ! rm sists he? He Ip him, Lucio. Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir: Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave’s visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hane’d an hour! Will’t not otf ? Pulls off the Sr 1ar’s hood, and discovers : the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave, that e’er made a duke.—— First, provost, let me bail these gentle three :—— Sneak not away, sir; [ Z’o Lucio.} for the friar and you — : Must have a word anon :—lay hold on him. Taucio. This may prove worse than hanging. Duke. What you have spoke, 1 pardon; sit you cqown.———— | Z’o Escalus. We'll borrow place of him :—Sir, by your leave: | Z'o Angelo, Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office ?2_ If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. Ange. O my dread lord, [ should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, (1) Wantons. (2) Service.416 MEASURE Act V. When I perceive, your grace, like power divine, Hath look’d upon my passes :! Then, good prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession ; Immediate sentence then, and sequent? death, Is all the grace I beg. Duke. ~ ~ Come hither, Mariana :-— Say, wast thou e’er contracted to this woman? Ang. I was, my lord. Duke. Go, take her hence, and marry her in- stantly.— Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again :—Go with him, Provost. [Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost Escal. My lord, 1 am more amaz’d at his dis honour, Than at the strangeness of it. Duke. Come hither, Isabel Your friar is now your prince: As I was then Advértising,? and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney’d at your service. Isab. O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ’d and pain’d Your unknown sovereignty. Duke. You are pardon’d, Isabel > And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother’s death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel, why I obscur’d myself, Labouring to save his life; and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power, [han let him so be lost: O, most kind maid, {t was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain’d my purpose : But, peace be with him ! That life is better life, past fearing death, Phan that which lives to fear: make it your comfort So happy 1s your brother. ’ (1) Devices. (2) Following. (3) AttentiveScene I. FOR MEASURE. 417 Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost. Tsabh. I do, my lord. Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong’d Your wel!-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana’s sake: but as he adjudg’d yow brother (Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred ch istity, and of promise-breach, Thereon dependant, for your brother’s life,) The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper! tongue, An Ang lo for Claudio, death for death. Haste st l] pays hast » and I isure answers leisure Like doth quit like, and Weasure still Jor Measure, Then, Angelo, thy fault’s thus manisfested : Which though thou would’st deny, denies thee Vantave: : We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop’d to death, and with like } : naste — Away with him. Mari. O, my most eracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband! Duke. It is your husband mock’d you with a husband: Consenting to the saferuard of your honour, ( thought your marriage fit; else imputation, for that he knew you, mieht reproach your life, And choke your wood to come: for his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We doinstate and widow you withal, To buy youa better husband. Mari. O, my dear lord, [ crave no other, nor no better man. Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive. (1) Angelo’s own tongue.418 MEASURE Act V. Marr. Gentle my liege,— _ [Kneeling. Duke. You do but lose your labour : Away with him to death.—Now, sir, [7'o Lucio. ] to you. Mari. O, my good lord !—Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come P’ll lend you, all my life to do you service. Duke. Against all sense! you do importune her : Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact, Her brother’s ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. Mari. Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing, I'l] speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband. O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee? Duke. He dies for Claudio’s death. Tsab. Most bounteous sir, ( Kneeling. Look, if it please you, on this man condemn’d, Asif my brother liv’d: I partly think, A due sincerity govern’d his deeds, Till he did look on me; since it is so, Let him not die: My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died : For Angelo, His act did not o’ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perish’d by the way: thoughts are no subjects; Intents but merely thoughts. Mari. Merely, my lord. Duke. Your suit’s unprofitable ; stand up, Isay.— I have bethought me of another fault :-— Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? (1) Reason and affection.FOR MEASURE. Prov. It was commanded so. Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private mes Save. Duke. For which I dodischarge you of your office Give up your keys. Prov. Pardon me, noble lord: I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice :! For te stimons whereof, one in the prison That should by private order else have died, Scene I. I have resery’d alive. Dake. What’s he? Prov. His name is Barnardine. Duke. I would thou had’st done so by Claudio.— Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him, | Exit Provost F’scal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, lord Ane lo. have still appear’d, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat cf blood, And lack of t mper’d judeme nt afterward. Ane | am sorry, that such SOTTOW | procure : And so dec p sticks it in my penitent heart, That | crave death more willingly than mercy *Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Juliet. Duke. Whi h is that Barnardine ? Prov. This, my lord. Duke. There was a friar told me of this man :-— Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, That apprehends no further than this world, And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt conde mn’d; But, for those « arly faults, I quit them all ; And pray thee, take this mercy to provide For better times to come :——Friar, advise hm: I leave him to your hand.—What muffled fellow’s that? (1) Consideration, VOL, I. 2D420 MEASURE Act VP. Prov. This is another prisoner, that I sav’d, That should have died when Claudio lost his henid : As like almost to Claudio, as himself. [Unmu files Claudio. Duke. If he be like your brother, [ Z’o Isabella. ] for his sake Is he pardon’d; And, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand, ane say you will be mine, He is my brother too: But fitter time for that. By this, ‘lord Angelo perceives he’s safe Meth hinks, [ see a quickening in his eye :— Well, Ange lo, your evil quits! ycu well: Look -that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours. oa I find an apt re rnission in myself: And yet here’s one in plac e I cannot pardon ; : You, sirrah, [Z'o Luc io.] that knew me fora fool, Coward. One all of luxury,2 2 an ass, a madman; Wherein have I so desery’d of you, That you extol me thus ? Lucio. ’Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick * If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you, | might be whipp’d. Duke. Wy} hipp’d first, sir, and hang’d after. — Proclaim it, pr ‘ovost, round about the city If any woman’s wrong’d by this lewd fe low (As I have heard him swear himself, there’s one Whom he bevot with chil 1,) let her ay ppear, And he shall m: urry her the nuptial cada sh’d, Let him be w hipp’ ‘d ata hane’d. Lucio. I beseech your hi ohness. do not marry me toa whore! Your highness said even now, | made you a duke: good my lord, do not recom. pense me, in making me a cuc kold, Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her (1) Requites. 2) Incontinence. (3) Thoughtless prac tice e.Seene I. FOR MEASURE. Thy slanders I forgive: and therewithal } ¥ | ells :*— ] AKE him ) ; Remit thy other for : O prison : And see our ple isure herein executed, Lucio. Marrying a punk. my lord iS pressing to al 10. arrying a pi x, Mn ( pre Ine bay death. whip} and hanging i Why Duke. § ind’ rine i prince dese rves it.— } tr She, Claudio, that vou w rong’d, look you restore. — Joy to you, \I iriana ! —love he f. Ange lo: | have f nif esd he re and | know her virtue — hanks, ox d fi le! 1 Es ilus, for thy much e odness lhere’s more behi 1, that is more rratulate.2 r} INKS, rovost, for Loy ¢ re, and secrecy : The I Lo Rag Zine {tor (Clay io’s * Phe olence ard is itself. Dy il Isabel, | nave i no iT} much im rts \ ur grt d ; \\ nereto if y 1'| i Wil i €ar inciime What Ss mine is yours ind whatis yours 1s mine :— . ’ 1 . *) 0, Dring us to our palace ; Where we |] show 4? (hohind Lay? ‘ ! | | . What sycti bepnind, What's meet you a! should know. | Eveunt. The novel of Giraldi Cinthio, from which Shak- speare is supposed to have borrowed this fable, may be read in Shakspeare Illustrated, elegantly trans- lated, with remarks which will assist the inquire? to discove mitted or avoided. ; ’ ) | Ww much absurdity Sha | ‘Spe ire has ad- I cannot but suspect that some other had nevw- modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a stor which in some particulars resembled it, and tha Cinthi » Was not the a ithor vhom Shakspe ire im mediately followed. The emperor in Cinthio is , ! 7 2 ‘ , named Maxiniine : the duke, in Shakspeare’s enu- meration of the persons of the drama, is called Vin. (1) Punishments. 2) To reward.422 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. entio. This appears a very slight remark; but since the duke has no name in the play, nor is ever mentioned but by his title, why should he be called Vincentio among the persons, but because the name was copied from the story, and placed superflu- ously at the head of the list, by the mere habit of transcription? It is therefore likely that there was then a story of Vincentio duke of Vienna, different from that of Maximine emperor of the Romans. Of this play, the light or comic part is very natu- ral and pleasing, but the grave scenes, if a few pas- sages be excepted, have more labour than elegance. [he plot is rather intricate than artful The time »f the action is indefinite : some time, we know not how much, must have elapsed between the recess of the duke and the imprisonment of Claudio ; for he must have learned the story of Mariana in his disguise, or he delegated his power to a man al- ready known to be corrupted. The unities of action and place are sufficiently preserved. JOHNSON. END OF VOL. I.N ’ Hl ¥ ciEP Dee ede AE Ee loll eel a tee Cee eee