RSITY OF VIRGINIA LIBRARY

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LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

PRESENTED BY

Atcheson HenchALOE te AAN
UNIVER Si ry or
Cota or +

LIBRARY

VIRGINIA
FSVILCLE, VIRGINIAa
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|THE

DRAMATIC WORKS

OF

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,
ACCURATELY PRINTED
FROM THE TEXT OF THE CORRECTED COPY
LEFT BY THE LATE
GEORGE STEEVENS, Esa.
WITH A
GLOSSARY, AND NOTES,
AND A SKETCH OF
THE LIFE Ol SHAKSPEARE

renee Re Pennie Greene Bey

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. L

HARTFORD:
PUBLISHED BY JUDD, LOOMIS & CO,

   
 
  
   
    
  
  
  
      
   
  
 

, Pe ee ntti eee ewe ae aesessie’ PCH

OF THE

LIFE OF SHAKSPERARR.

|
was born at Strat-!the performance.

VV ILLIAM SHAKSPBARE
ford-upon-Avon, in Warwicks|
of April, 1564,

But in whatever situation ne
employed at the theatre, he appears to

have soon discovered those talents which afterwards
» WaS a con-|made him
'
sirable de aler in wool, and had Aes n an oilicer| os teen’s ee
ad 4 ‘, Ph’ applause, delight, the wonder, of our stage.
olf the corporation of Stratford. Le was likewise|

ure, on the 23d day!was first
His family was above the vulgar
rank, His father, Jolin Shakspeare

justice of the peace, and at one time a man of} Some distinction he probably first acquired as
peace, and ; a mi J

cous.derable property. This last. however, ap- an actor, but no character has been discovered
pears to have been lost by some means, in the latter |i! Which he appeared to more advantage than in
part of his life. His wife was the daughter and|“at of the Ghost in Hamlet: and the best critics
heiress of Robert Arden, of Wellington, in the|#nd inquirers into his life are of opinion, that he
county of Warwick, by whom he had a family of|W48 not eminent as an actor. In tracing the chro-

nology of his plays, it has been discovered, that

'Romeo and Juliet, and Richard I. and Ill., were
illustrious poet was the eldest son, and was| printed in 1597, when he was thirty-three years

ten children.

Our

educated, probably, at the free-school of Stratford .|old. There is also some reason to think that he

». Ems mee < < afin rita . FOO ; 2
but from this he was soon removed, and placed in}COmmenced a dramatic writer in 1592, and Mr.
; re

amount of his education has been long a subje et | He nry VL, in 1589,
of controversy. It is a nerally agreed, that he did |
not enjoy what 1s usually termed a literary educa-| Hlis plays were not only popular, but approved
iva : ean la cortainiy knew enough of Latin and| by persons of the higher order, as we are certain
French to introduce scraps of both in his pl rys, | that he enjoyed the gracious favour of Queen Eli-

without blund r or impropriety,

izabeth, who was very fond of the Stage; the pa-
is ; ‘a
jtronage of the Earl of Southampton, to whom he
. al ledic s ; wems ; and of King James
When about eighteen years old, he marric q|aeey ated some of his J , i ind V ft se ‘
} \ Ole a very gracious Ietter to him with his
Anne HKlathaw iy, who w iS Cielht years older than|' ho wrot L . , : f t} i t
; : ; , Jr Lhe cOMmplimen
himself. His condact soon after this marriage was|Own hand, probab ) Wm return for plir
t. Being detected with a gang of|Shakspeare had paid to his majesty in the tragedy
no. very correct, >i r a pi (
-or. mm lof ‘be . at his uncom-
dver-stealers, m robbing the park of Sir Chomas| ol Macbeth. It may be ore i
. : ‘Tl is ¢! ur, 4nd @ood nature, are sup-
Lucy, of Charlecote, near Stratford, he wa obliged|mon merit, his eandour, d goo re, 2 I
: shelter|posed to have procured him the admiration and
to leave his family and business, and take shelter|| 7 _ |
i acquaintance of every person distinguished for such
in Londuli. ce
qualities, It is not difficult, indeed, to trace, that
. are was a m { humour, and a social
He twas twenty-two vears of age whe n he arrived Shakspe are was a man O ’ t
=e ; Se he hows made his first ac-|companion; and probably excelled in that species
in Loudon, and 1s sai O nave mone , : _ : : ‘ ba . iaeeihcal
intance in the play-house. Here his necessities}of minor wit, not ill adapted to conversation, of
guaintance in the play-house, are ey = hac eis Ge
r lied him to accept the office of call-boy, or|which it could have been wished he had been more
ODLt im bc ;
e ‘at y 1 his ¥ ity is.
prompter’s attendant ; whois appointed to give the [Sparing in his writi
or ; notice e ready, as often as the busi-|
verformers notice to be ready, as o ss pies
: * 1] lay requires their appearance on th | How long he acted, has not been discovered ; but
. . » play <a1ires , { pearl j 4 = Q é
ae ; i t] yunt, far less|he continued to write till the year 1614. During
stave C gy to another acc » far ICS: 4 :
tage. Ace 74 | t s to wait at the|his dramatic career, he acquired a property in the
able, hus first employment was ait at at |
Beare’, Sie Sas Gigs: f ‘theatre, which he must have disposed of: when he
of the play-house, and hold the horses of those |theatre, whi ee
door mS pee) ‘ -after!retired, as no mention of it occurs in his will, The
ho had no servants, that they might be ready after retired, a
W ‘ ‘ } ¢ :

the office of some country attorney. The exact|Malone even places his first play, the First Part of
ihe Hie SO : J. ‘

  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
    
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 

Sect Cee tk Lome eer ane zee

eral ci audit Sis, dein oe” A

te SKETCH OF THE LIF

latter part of his life was spent in ease, retirement,

   
 

 

— OF SHAKSPEARE.

gentlemen of the neighbourhood ; and here he 18

and the conversation of his friends. He had accu-jthought to have written the play of Twelfth Night.

mulated considerable property, which Gildon (in
his Letters and Essays) stated to amount to 3001.
per ann. a sum equal to 1000/. in our days. But
Mr. Malone doubts whether all his property
amounted to much more than 200I. per ann. which
yet was a considerable fortune in those times ; and)
it is supposed, that he might have derived 2001. an-
nually 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
family in that neighbourhood. Sir Hugh was
sheriff. of London in the reign of Richard III. and
lord mayor in that of Henry VII. By his will he
bequeathed to his elder brother’s son his manor of
Clopton, &c. and his house by the name of the
Great House in Stratford. A good part of the
estate was in possession of Edward Clopton, Esq.
and Sir Hugh Clopton, Knt. in 1733. The prin-
cipal estate had been sold out of the Clopton family
for above a century, at the time when Shakspeare
became the purchaser, who, having repaired and
modelled it to his own mind, changed the name to
New Place, which the mansion-house afterwards
erected, in the room of the poet’s house, retained
for many years. The house and lands belonging
to it continued in the possession of Shakspeare’s
descendants to the time of the Restoration, when
they were re-purchased by the Clopton family.
Here, in May, 1742, when Mr. Garrick, Mr. Mack-
lin, and Mr. Delane, visited Stratford, they were
hospitably entertained under Shakspeare’s mul-
berry-tree, by Sir Hugh Clopton, who was a bar-
rister, was knighted by George I. and died in the
S0th year of his age, 1751. His executor, about
the year 1752, sold New Place to the Rev. Mr.
Gastrel, a man of large fortune, who resided in it
but a few years, in consequence of a disagreement
with the inhabitants of Stratford. As he resided
part of the year at Litchfield, he thought he was!
assessed too highly in the monthly rate towards the|

 

maintenance of the poor, and being opposed, he
peevishly declared, that that house should never
be assessed again; and soon afterwards pulled it
down, sold the materials, and Icft the town. He
had some time before cut down Shakspeare’s mul-
berry-tree, to save himself the trouble of showing
it to visitors. That Shakspeare planted this tree
appears to be sufficiently authenticated. Where

Hc died on his birth-day, Tuesday, April 23, 1616,
when he had exactly completed his fifty-second
year ; and was buried on the north side of the chan-
cel, in the great church at Stratford, where a monu-
ment is placed tn the wall, on which he is repre-
sented under an arch, in a sitting posture, a cushion
spread before him, with a pen in his right hand,
and his left rested ona scroll of paper. The fol-
lowing 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 So-

cratem. 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,

Et. 53, die 23 Apri.

We have not any account of the malady whica,
at no very advanced age, closed the life and Ja-
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 verie ready and pleasant and smooth wit.’

His family consisted of two daughters, and a son
named Hamnet, who died in 1596, in the twelfth
year of his age. Susannah, the eldest daughter,
and her father’s favourite, was married to Dr. John
Hall, a 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 afterwards to Sir John Barnard, of
Abington in Northamptonshire, but died without
issue by either husband. Judith, Shakspeare’s
youngest daughter, was married to Mr. Thomas
Quiney, and died Feb. 1661-2, in her 77th year,
By Mr. Quiney she had three sons, Shakspeare,
Richard, and Thomas, who all died unmarried.
The traditional story of Shakspeare having been
the father of Sir William Davenant, has been ge-
nerally discredited.

From these imperfect notices,* which are all
we have been able to collect from the labours of
his biographers and commentators, our readers
will perceive that less is known of Shakspeare
than of almost any writer who has been consider-

 

New Place stood is now a garden.

During Shakspeare’s abode in this house, he
enjoyed the acquaintance and friendship of the

|

| * The first regular attempt at a life of Shakspeare is pre
\fixed to Mr, A, Chalmer's variorum edition, published in [809
lof which we have ay ailed ourselyes in the above SketchSKETCH OF THE LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE., v

ed as an object of laudable curiosity, Nothing |history. The industry of his illustrators for the
could be more highly gratifying, than an account! last forty years

» has been such as probably never

: aks . :

of the early studies of this wonderful man, the' was surpassed i
|

n the annals of literary investiga-
yet so far are we from information of the
his friendships, his failings, and whatever else con-|conclusive or satisfactory kind, that even the order
stitutes personal history. But on all these topics in which his plays are written rests principally on
his contemporaries, and his immediate successors, conjecture, and of some of the plays usually printed
have been equally silent; and if aught can hereaf-| among his works, it is not yet determined whether
ter be discovered, it must be by exploring sources‘he wrote the whole, or any part. We are, how-
which have hitherto escaped the anxious researches ever, indebted to the labours of his commentators,
of those who have devoted their whole lives, and/not only for much light thrown upon his obscuri-
their most vigorous talents, to revive his memory, | ties, but for a text purified from the gross blunders
and illustrate his writings, \of preceding transcribers and editors; and it is
almost unnecessary to add, that the text of the fol-
It is equally unfortunate, tha. we know as little/lowing volumes is that of the last corrected edition
of the progress of his writings, as of his personal! of Johnson and Steevens.

progress of his pen, his moral and social qualities, tion ;

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THE TEMPEST.
Act I.— Scene 2.

Vin
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Re
.

Act Y jane Seene lL.TEMPEST.

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Alonso, king of Naples |Miranda, daughter .
, g of Naples. | Mirands iter to Prospero,
Sebastian, Ais brother. ; :
Prospero, the rightful duke of Milan, Ariel,
Antonio, his brother, the usur nne duke of Milan. | Lris,
Ferdinand, son to the king of Naples. |

} ,} ; . ' ° *
fsonzalo, an honest old counsellor of Naples, iJuno, smrits,

\drian, ea. |Nymphs,
Francisco, ." ' ‘Reapers,
Caliban, a savage and deformed slave. : Uther spirits atlending on Prospero.
Crinculo, a jester. .
otephano, a drunken butler.

Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Mariners.

an airy spirit,

5
Ceres,

le . . :
‘Scene, the sea, with a ship; afterwards an unin«
habited island,

ee eg

AU's 1. lfate, to his hanging! make the rope of his destiny
our cable, for our own doth little advantage! If he

SCENE J.—On a@ ship at sea. 4 storm, with|be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable.
thunder and lightning. Enter a Ship-master} [Exeunt.
and a Boatswain. | Re-enter Boatswain.

Master. | Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lower,
‘lower; bring her to try with main course. [.4 cry
jwithin.| A plague upon this howling! they are
\louder than the weather, or our office.—

R IATSIVAIN,.—

Boals. Her , master: what cheer?

Mast. Good: speak to the mariners: fall tot
varely,' or we run ourselves aground : hestir, | Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo

s | 4 *!
beatir. — | Yet again? what do you here? Shall we give o'er,

Rater Mariners. jand drown? Have you a mind to sink?
: Seb, A pox o’ your throat! you bawling, blas-
Boats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, che erly, my|phemous, uncharitable dog !
hearts; yare, yare: take in the top-sail: tendto! Boats. Work you, then,
the master’s whistle.—Blow, till thou burst thy| nt. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent
wind, if room enough ! ‘noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than
ithou art.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, | Gon. [Pll warrant him from drowning ; though
Gonzalo, and others; \the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as

leaky as an unstaunched? wench.
| Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two
‘courses; off io sea again, lay her off.

llon. Good boatswain, have acare. Where's
the master? Play the men.
Boats. | pray now, keep belov.
Ant. Where is the master, boastwain?
Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our la-!
bour! keep your cabins: you do assist the storm.| Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
Gon. Nay, good, be patient. . Laie
Boats. When the sea is. Hence! Whatcare| Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?
these roarers for the name of king? To eabin | Gon, The king and prince at prayers! let us
silence: trouble us not. * assist them, —
Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast|F or our case is as theirs.
aboard. : | Se*. I am out of patience.
Boats. None that I more love than myself. ¥ * Ant. a os peor" cheated of our hives by
are ‘ounsellor; if you can command thesc ele-| drunkards.— .
eal eee cna work the peace of the present, This wide-chapped rascal ;—’ Would, thou might’st
we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. | lie drowning, ;
If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, | The washing of ten tides!
and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mis | Gon, He'll be hanged yet :
chance of the hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good | Though every drop of water swear against it,
hearts.—Out of our way, I say. { Ezxit.| And gape at wid’st to glut him. :
Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow: me-| [.7 confused noise within. ] Mercy on us Soe e
thinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his| split, we split! nbake oo ane ae?
complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Farewell, brother !—We split, we split, we split.—

Enter Mariners, wet.

(1) Readily, (2) Present instant, (3) Incontinent, (4) Absolutely,ct I.

   
 
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
   
  

8 TEMPEST.
Ant. Let's all sink with the king. [Eeit. | In the dark backward and abysm? of time?
Seb. Let?s take leave of him. [ Exit.|If thou remember’st aught, ere thou cam’st here,

thou cam’st here, thou may’st.

Gon. ld I give a thousand furlongs of| How
on. Now wou give a thousand furlongs ee 3 Ao nik.

sea for anacre of barren ground; long heath, brown Mira.
furze, any thing: the wills above be done! but 1| Pro. Twelve years since,
would fain die a dry death. Evit.|Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was
The duke of Milan, and a prince of power.

Mira. Sir, are not you my father.

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
‘ : She said—thou wast my daughter; and thy father

Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have} Was duke of Milan; and his only heir
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them: | A princess ;—no worse ‘ asued.
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,; Mira. O, the heavens!
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek, | What foul play had we, that we came from thence ?

SCENE I.—The island: before the cell of Pros-
pero. Enter Prospero and Miranda.

 

Dashes the fire out. O, I have sufler’d Or blessed was’t we did?
With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Pro. Both, both, my girl;
Who had no doubt some noble creatures Pe her, By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heav’d thence ;
Dash’d all to pieces. Nine ery did knock But blessedly holp hither.
Against my very heart! Poor souls! they perish’d.| Mira, O, my heart bleeds
Had I been any god of power, I would — ; |To think o’ the teen* that I have turn’d you to
Have sunk the sea within the earth, are Gt | Which is from my remembrance! Please you further.
Jt should the good ship so have swallow’d, and | Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio,—
The freighting souls within her. a \I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should

Pro. Be collected; | Be so perfidious !—he whom, next thyself,
No As amazement: tell your piteous heart, Of all the world I lov’d, and to him put
There’s no harm done. 'The manage of my state ; as, at that time,

aoe O, wo the day! ex! 'Throuch all the signiories it was the first,

ro. No harm.| And Prospero the prime duke ; being so reputed
I have done nothing but in care of thee, ; ' lin diontty, and, for the liberal arts, : :
e , ohter ) rest oh :

(Of thee, my dear one! thee, my dau; hter ') who| Without a parallel; those being all my study,
o oa of what thou Bs Roe SEaEOne 'The covernment I cast upon my brother,

f whence I am; nor that, Ti aie etter |And to my state grew stranger, being transported,
Than Prospero, master of a tull poor cell, |And wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—
And thy no greater father. |Dost thou attend me? ’
pine eet, ny , More to know Mira. Sir, most heedfully.

D never meddle with my thougnts, | Pro, Being once perfected how to grant suits,

Pei , Tis time | How to deny them; whom to advance, and whom
I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand, To trash® for over-topping ; new created
d pluck my magic garment from me.—S0 ; lr 7 a aPrS = :
And p y magic ¢* . ron ene 5 ‘The creatures that were mine; I say or chang’d
{Lays down his mantle. | them ’
Lie eee Na ipe thou thine eyes ; have) Or else new form’d them: having both the key
comtort. |Of officer and office, set all hearts .
é a ale exe 5 hci | ves Sake bhi ? neu ¢ « .
a direful pee of the wree " which touch €\To what tune pleas’d his ear; that now he was
I 7 Mgt a or compassion in th¢ ; |The ivy, which had my princely trunk,
rcan , » } ’ . 4 rT’ ,
ATG WE een Pe in mine art And suek’d my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st
So safely order’d, that there is no soul— | eis
No, not so much perdition as a hair, II pray thee, mark me
Betid to any creature in the vessel Seo east utr
Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. | a ponents, I ees
Sit dov Y, whic ou saw’st sink.| Pro, I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate
r . rr . ¥ . .
For thou t nhs k furthe |To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
Mira must now Know Lurene y i ci | With that, which, but by being so retir’d,
. ou have olten = | O’er-priz’d all popular rate, in my false brother,
Begun to tell me what Iam; but stopp d Awak’d an evil nature: and my tr
mj; OUL SLOPt j}Awak’d an evil nature: and my trust,
And left me to a bootless inquisition ; \Like : da nare ‘4 hooet of bl
Condludiens Jl + el ) ike a good parent, did beget of him
(Oy uding, Afdy, nol ye TT de |A falsehood, in its contrary as great
0. : : re hour’s now come ;| As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit,
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; 1A confidence sans* bound. He bei ; ‘
- <o0 ; | AA nee sans® bound. He being thus lordsd,
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thouremember | Not only wit! 7 sl ~
e) l : Not only with what my revenue yielded
A time before we came unto this cell ? iBut what my 1° mid wp det Be
( I yhat my power might else exact,—like one
I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not |\Who having, uw : Ps :
; ; Vho having, unto truth, by telling of it
Out? three years old. lMade such a sinner of his memory '
Mira raceetnty str Tc; | Made such a sinner of his memory,
. . vertainly, sir, 1 can. |'T’o credit his own lie,—he did believe
Pro. By what? by any other house, or person?| He was the duke ; . esses
0 y _ DY an) , e was the duke; out of the substitution
a thk Suna he vend nae that And executing the outward face of royalty
Ww y gi rs i = ast bs 4 - ms ;
ath kept with thy remem ance. With all prerogative :—Hence his ambition
Mira, Tis far off; Growin: ar?
nid rat tied tian 0 ; xrowing,—Dost hear %
vA t « assuré 7c ATs» r - 2
an f am than an assurance Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness
at my remembrance warrants: had I not Pro. To have no screen between this th
Four or five women once, that tended me ? play’d . aa part Ae
. ’

Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: but how) And him he play’d it for, he needs will be

is it, Abs .Witlen« ae i »
That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else Absolute Milan: me, poor man't—my library

(1) Before, (2) Quite, (3) Abyss. (4) Sorrow. (5) Cutaway. (6) Without,Scene IT.

Was dukedom] irve enoug!
He thinks me now ing apable
(So dry ’ he

ol temporal royal

was lor sway)

‘ : . i : . ‘ ith. 3 °
lo give Mm annual tribute. do him homace - ris ; ‘ ould I might
= : : > ™ ih 1 FUT i f r se } moan!
Subject his coronet to his crow) ra ' ' that man!
ry. : Yhty AIG Cha fs , i
lhe dukedom, yet unbow’d (alas Milan!) oot Now I arise :—
lo most ignoble stooping. _ a ' yp SE HGP Ure last Of Our Sea-sorrow,
: gr asta e i ; +] ec ae ‘ ‘
Vira. () j ; 1 _ at ry ' i { { i iy d: and he re
Don . , . i- ! } :
Py ), Mark his conditioy . Se ill ke 4 101 ter, made thee more profit
, ‘ ‘ ‘ ’ . ; ‘ } .
tell me, can, lL nave more time
4) ; ‘ i a 4, .
If this might be a brother a tutors not so careful.
. ps Leave i for’t!
ira. — 1) ' vu tor’t: And now, I
ry ss . al ;
lo think but nobly of ’ y | ; a .
Good wombs have born 5 ing in my mind,) your reason
) - . ‘ | rTyy ) :
Pro, \) oe ee
This | mA = _——- IXnow thus far for
his king of Naples. b 7 .now thus far forth.
"' »% ; . . . 7 ' : , th : st “anve hy high] ful fnrfiipe
om inveterate. } i : ; ; eC PeEe LOTLUD ’
Moe Es j is } } | i . .
Which wae. that ha } » Lain mine enemies
, i i ’ - ;
Of hom , and 1} ' iad Dy my prescience
Ss : ruld ’ repr i\ ewty y . nad upon
XI ae
Out of the duked nd ¢ 1) , whose intluence
With all I } yf ; ore fortunes
A treacherou ; le — £2ere cease more questions ;
‘ated ta | hes ; lis a rood dulness,
The rates oj Vii) r} j ; : Ul uu canst not choose.—
. . — ’ T brs }
I iit Mitiis s io i t I Miranda sleeps.
ron . “ay rendyv now
M, : a4 ery} : “lll TCU ¥Y now ;
M ra ] ! :
I, not remem)’rin v | } ‘ }
Will ery it : (fe
That wri 8 mi . : " ! rm for! wnwa aie hac
- nine ¢ : | i m r! grave sir, hail! |
i. | { {
And than ¥?1) . a re ‘
AI en} ] il | i ' Pu sure * he f fo fly,
"i ichnow su » the f . tO ride
ere most imperting curid ciouds; to thy strong bidding, task
Mir \" :
rT ;
hat } ‘ . ) } *
Th 10u Lfast thou, spirit,
i YY ‘* ' ‘ ‘ 4}
P, | \ mpest that I bade thee?
My tal prov ‘ | | {
not »; now on the beak,
(So dear ee oan ee
: | 7 { » in ¢ very Canin,
A mark so blo : imes, I'd divide,
With col sf ) the top-mast
nf ie ld I flay ats
In few, they | di flame distinetly ;
Bore us some k , lichtnings, the pre-
A rotte
Nor tackle, s ' -claips, more momentary
nstinctiv had \ - not: the fire, and cracks
7° ' 4} y ‘ ais Dial Tt
To « to the sea , Lhe most mighty Neptune
lo the winds. whose pity, | ; imate his bold wavestremble;

i3 but

Did t

age. ‘1 a
Mira. 4

Was | then to vou! } »COl L, that this coil"

Pro. O!a i :
ines Weel Mat Aid weeteren 4 did Ari. Not a soul
Infused with a i rtith le fi i ita fi of > mad, and play’d
When I have deck'd* the sea with di tHICKS 0 n: all, but mariners,
Under my burden n’d: which 1 brine, and quit the vessel,
An undergoing stomach,* to bear up then all a-fire withme: the king’s son, Ferdinand,
Reniteat cat ahould \ 1 hai then like reeds, not hair, )

oy nw canted ashi ‘Vas the first manthatleap’d; cried, Hellis empty,

Pro. By Providence diy And all the devils are here.
Somes food we h id, and some fresh weter, that To Ys hy, that’s may spirit
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, But was not this nigh shore ?
Out of his charity (who being then appointed tri Close by, my master.
Master of this design, ) did give us, with m But are they, Ariel, safe?
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, — . Not a hair perish’d ;
Which since have steaded much: so, of | entle-| 1 their sustaining garments not a blemish,

cual But fresher than before: and, as thou bad’st me,
Knowing | lov’d my books, he furnish’d me, In troops I have dispers’d them ’bout the isle:
, [he king’s son have I landed by himself;

(1) Thirsty. (2) Consideration. (3) Suggestion.

(4) Sprinkled.

(5) Stubborn resolution,

 
   
 
  
    
    
  
   
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 

. .

i Mn mY Own
y _

ry

Pro. My brave spirit!

 

Yr)
Add

; \ (6) The m

utest article.

B

(7) Bustle, tumult.Se ee ee ee SF NES ea aaa

 

 

 

  
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  

 

19 TEMPEST. Act I.
i ' ‘ dec ¢

Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs, To act her earthly and abhorr’d count,

In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, Refusing her grand hests,* she did confine thee,

His arms in this sad knot. By help of her more potent ministers,
Pro. Of the king’s ship, And in her most unmitigable 1 ait _
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos’d, Into a cloyen pine; within which ri

And all the rest 0’ the flect? Imprison’d, thou didst painfully remain
ithin which space she died,

Ari. Safely in harbour |A dozen years; W a thy
Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once |And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy
Thou call’dst me up at midnicht to fetch dew groans, ee
From the still-vex’d Bermoothes,! there she’s hid:|As fast as mill-whecls strike : then was this islant
The mariners all under hatches stowed ; (Save for the son that she did litter here,
Whom, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d la-| A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honoured with

 

bour, A human shape. A
J have left aslecp: and for the rest 0’ the flect, Ari. Yes; Caliban, her son.
Which I dispers’d, they all have met again ; | Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, | :
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,? | Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
Bound nanly home for Naples ; | What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wreel?d, | Did make wolves howl, and penctrate the breasts
And his great person perish. \Of ever angry bears: it was a torment

Pro. Ariel, thy charge I'To lay upon the dammd, which Sycorax
Exactly is perform’d; but there’s more work: Could not again undo; it was mine art,
What is the time o’ the day? When I erriv’d, and heard thee, that made gape

tri. "Past the mid season.|The pine, and let thee out.

Pro. At least two classes: the time ’twixt six; ./rt. I thank thee, master.

and now | Pro. If thou more murmur’st, It will rend an oak,

Must by us both he spent most preciously. i And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give) Thou hast howld away twelve winters,

me pains, i are Pardon, master:
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis’d, | 1 will be correspondent to command,
Which is not yet performed me. And do my spiriting gently.
Pro. , Liow now? moody?! Pro. Do so; andafler two days
What is’t thou canst demand? f will discharge thee.
Alri. My liberty. | oes. That’?s my noble master!
Pro. Before the time be out? j10 more. What shall ldo? say what: what shall I do?
Ari. I pray thee} Pro. Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea ;
Remember, I have done thee worthy service ; Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible
Told thee no lies, made no mistakines, serv’d \'l'o every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape,
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst pro-| And hither come in’t: hence, with diligence.
mise [ Evit Ariel.
To bate me a full year. Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well;
Pro. j Dost thou forget |Awake !
From what a torment I did {ree thee ¢ | Mira. The strangeness of your story put
ri. No. Heayiness in me.
Pro. Thou dost; and think’st Beis. Shake it off; come on;
It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep ; We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
To run upon the sharp wind of the north ; Yields us kind answer.
pon the ry :
To do me business in the veins 0’ the earth, | Mira. Tis a villain, sir,
When itis bak’d with frost. iI do not love to look on.
Ari. I do not, sir. |. Pro. 3ut, as ’tis,
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou) We cannot miss‘ him: he does make our fire,
forgot ‘Fetch in our wood; and serves in offices
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, and envy,|That profitus. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? {Thou earth, thou! speak.
Ari. No, sir, | Cal. [Within.] There’s wood enough within.
Pro. Thou hast: where was she born?} Pro. Come forth, I say; there’s other business
speak; tell me. | for thee ;
tri. Sir, in Argier.? |Come forth, thou tortoise! when?
Pro. O, was she so? I must, |
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, | Re-enter Ariel, like a water-nymph.

Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch, Sycorax, | ,,. a ;

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible |Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

To enter human hearing, from Argier, | Hark in thine ear.

Thou know’st, was banished; for one thing she) “iri. My lord, it shall be done. [Ezit.
did Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil

’ aan
They would not take her life. Is not this true? |, himself
Ari. Ay, sir. |Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Pro. This blue-ey’d hag was hither brought! : a
with child, Enter Caliban.
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, |
ae ne » My Siave,| Cal. As wicked dew as e’er my sh’

As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant: |\ith raven’s feather from oor ay a ee '

nd rast a § “os es : ay ‘ ( > { ( ,
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate | Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye,
(1) Bermudas,

(2) Wave, (3) Algiers. | (4) Commands, (5) Do without,Scene Ii. TEMPEST, ll

And blister you all o’er Courl’sied when you have, and kiss’d

Pro. For this, be sure ; wal thou shalt have} (The wild waves whist?)
cr amps, | Foot it Seatly here and there ;
Side-stiches, that shall pen thy breath up; urchins! | Ind, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Shall, for that vast of night that they mi Ly work, | ark, hark!
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch’d | Bur. Bow; gh, wowgh. [dispersedly.
As thick as hone ‘Vy-C ombs, ¢ ach pinch more stinging The wate h- dog's bark:
Than bees that made them. Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. [dispersedly,
Cal, I must cat my dinner. Lark, bark ! | Thea
This island’s mine, by Sycorax, my mother, The strain of strutting chanticlere,
Which thou tak’st from me. When thou camest first, Cry, Cock-a- doodle-doo.
Thou strok’dst me, and mad’st much of me;
vould’st give me | Fer. Where should this music be? ? the air, o1
Water with berries in’t - and teach me how the earth?
To name the bigger li rht, and how the less, It sounds no more :—and sure, it wails upon
That burn by day and nicht: and then [ low’d the e, Some ¢ Rod of theasland., Sitting on a bank,
And show’d thee all the qualities o’ the isle, Weeping again the king my father’s wreck,
The fresh sprin rs, brine pits, barren place, and) This musie crept by me upon the waters ;
fertile ; \llaying both their fury, and my passion,
Cursed be | that did so'—All the charms With ils sweet air: thence I have follow’d it,
Of Sycorax, toads. b _ shh licht on you! Or it hath drawn me rather :—But ’lis one,
or Lam all the subjects that you have, No, it bevins again,
W hich first was mine own king: and here vou st nn : ;
In this hard rock, whiles vou do ke« p from me Ariel sings.
The rest of the 1 land. tl fathom five thy ather lics ;
Pro. Th yt most lyin lave ; (}/ is bo es eg oo
Whom string may move, not kindness: | hays Those are ne ; Lhat were his eyes .
us’d thee Nothine rar him that doth fade,
Pilth as thou art, with human care: and lode’d the: But doth suffer a sea-change
In mine own cell, till thou dids! seck to violats Into nelhine vich and strange.

ne HONOUL Of my child, SCU-71 npls hourly ree his Knell °

Cal. O ho, O ho!— would it had been donc! Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, hell.
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled els: | Burden, ding-dong.
This isle with Calibans. '

Pro: Abhorred slave : | ter. The ditty does remember my drown’d
Which any print of goodness will not lake, father :—

Being capable of all a I pitied thee, Chis is no mortal business, nor no sound
‘Took pains to mak thee speak, taught thee each|That the earth owes :*—I hear it now above me.
hour Pro. The tringed curtains of thine eye advance,
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, |And say, what thou seest yond’, a
Know thine own meaning, but would’st gabble lik Mira. VW hat is’t ? a spirit ?
A thing most brutish, | endow’d thy purposes Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
With words that made them known: But thy vile |[t eafries a brave form :—But ’tis a spirit.
race, | Pro. No, wench; it eats and sleeps, and hath
Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which crood | such senses
natures 'As we have, such: this gallant which thou seest
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou | Was in the wreck : and but he’s something stain’d
Deservedly confin’d into this rock, iW ith grief, thal’s beauty’s canker, thou might’st
Who hadst deserv’d more than a prison. all him

Cal, You taught me language ; and my profiton’t/A go ly person: he hath lost his fellows,
‘ . 4 : } >
Is, | know how to curse: the red plague rid? you And strays about to find them.

For learning me your language ! | Mira. es : I might call him
Pro. Hag-seed, hence!|A thing divine ; for nothing natural

Fetch us in fuel : and be quick, thou were be st, I ever saw so noble, ;

To answer other business. Shrue’st thou, malice?| Pro. It goes on, _ (Aside.

If thou neglect’st, or dost unwillingly |As my soul prompts it:—Spirit, fine spirit! Pll

What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps ; | free thee ;

Fill all thy bones with aches: make thee roar, Within two days for this.

That beasts shall tremble at thy din, Fer. Most sure, the roddess
Cal. No, ’pray thee !— ; (On whom these airs attend !~—V ouchsafe my prayer
val, No, : .

I must obey: his art is of such power, [.Aside.|May know, uf ro remain my ~ a

; ’ . , QP f Py ~ or

It would control my dam’s god, Setebos, {nd that you will some good instruction give,

And make a vassal of him. ‘How I may bear me here: my oo request,

~ Pro. So, slave; hence! |Which I do last prondunge, e, is, O you wonder!

| Hatt Caliban. | He you be maid, or no! :
2 Mira. No wonder, sir ;

Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and sincine ;| But, certainly 4 maid.

Ferdinand following him. Ton. My language? heavens

[ am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where ’tis spoken.

Pro. How! the best?
What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee ?

ARIEL’S SONG. |
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands :

(1) Fairies, (2) Destroy, (3) Still, silent, (4) Owns,sae SSE eg

Cyan pce endive ER ot aR

Solel

PIT eee
a See eye

12 TEMPEST. Act I,
Fer. A single thing, 1s 1 am now, that wonders! Pro. Come on; obey Es
To hear thee speak of Naples: he does heaf me ; erd.
And, that he does, I weep: my selfam Naples; |Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
Who with mine eyes, ne’er since at ebb, bel held {And have no vigour in them.
J er. So they are:

The king my father wreck’d,

 

 

Mira, Alack, for mercy !
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the duke of|
Milan
And his brave son, being twain.
Pro. The duke of Milan, |

And his more braver daughter, could control! t thee,
If now it were fit to dot. At the first sight |

[ Aside. |
They have chang’d eyes :—Delicate Ariel, |
J’ll set thee free for this!—A word, good-sir ;
I fear, you have done yourselfsome wrong: a word. |

Mira. W hy speaks my father so ungent tly 2 'This|i

|
Is the third man that ere I saw ; the first
That ere I sigh’d for: pity move my father
To be inclin’d my way!
|

Fer. O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, Vii make you
The queen of Naples.
Pro. Soft, sir; cne wow? nore,—|
They are both in either’s powers: but this swift)
business a
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning[.2side. |
Make the prize light.—One word more; I charge|
thee,
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp

The name thou ow’st not: and hast put thyself |
Upon this island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on’t.
Fer. No, as ama man.
Mira. There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a}
temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with ’t,
Pro. Follow me.— To rd. }

Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor.—Come,

I'll manacle thy neck and feet together :
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be

7 he fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots, and husks,

Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
Fer. No;

I will resist such entertainment, ti

Mine enemy has more power. [He draws
Mira. O dear fathe

—

Make not too rash a trial of him, for |
He’s gentle, and not fearful.?

r0. What, I say, :
My foot my tutor !—Put thy sword up, traitor ;

conscience
Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward ;3 |
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.

Who mak’st a show, but dar’st not strike, thy]
|
|

Mira. Beseech you, father !|

Pro. Hence; hang not on my garment

Mira. Sur, have pity;
Ill be his surety. '

Pro. Silence: one word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an impostor? hush!
Thou think’st, there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench !
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.

Mira. My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

 

(1) Confute. (2) Frightful. (3) Guard.

           

ISCENE I.—Another Pe of the island.

ine master

spoken truer th

as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father 's loss, the weakness which I feel,

IT he wreck of all my friends, or this man’s threats,

io whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison, once a day,
Behold this maid: all corners else o’ the earth
Let liberty make use of ; space enough
on lin sucha prison.
Pro. It works :—Come on.—

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !—Follow me.—

{To Ferd. and Mira.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [ To Ariel.
Mira, Be of comfort,
My father’s of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
Pro. Thou shalt be as free
\s mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.
Ari. To the syllable.
Pro, Come, follow: speak not for him. [Exeunt.

oo

ACT II.

Enter
Adrian,

Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo,
l‘rancisco, and olhers.

Gon. ’Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have

Ise
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: our hint of wo
Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife,
of some merchant, and the me rchant,
lave just our theme of wo: but for the miracle,
mean our preservation, few in millions
‘an speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Jur sorrow wilh our comfort. :
Alon. ee peace.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
; ane The vis itor will not give tH o’er so,
L.ook, he’s winding up the watch of his wit ;
yy an na by it will strike.
a n.. Sir.
Seb. One: Tell.
Gon. When every grief is entertain’d, that’s offer’d,
i|Comes to the entertainer—
Seb. A dollar.
Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have
an you proposed, ;
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant

}
i
i]
if

 

 

i 1
you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,—

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ,
“llon. I pr’ythee, spare.
Gon. Well, I have done:
Seb. He will be talking.
/mt. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good

but yet—

iwager, first begins to crow ?

Seb. The old cock.

int. The cockrel.

Seb. Done: the wager?
nt, A laughter.

ah A match.

-4dr, Though this island seem to be desert,~-iScene IT. TEMPEST.
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

“nt. So, you've pay’d,

ldr. Uninhal bitable, and almost inaces ssible,— a stomach of n 1y sense; ’would I had never

Seb. Yet, Niarried my dius ohter the re! for, coming thence,

Adr, Yet— My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,

“int. He could not miss it. Who is so ri from Italy remov d,

“idr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and/I ne’er again sh td see her, O thou mine heir
delicate temperance, ! Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish

“Int. Temperance was a delicate weneh. Hath made his meal on thee!

Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly d bran, Sir, he may live;
livered, : ! saw him. beat the surges under him,

eldr, The air bre athes upon us here most sweetly. | And ride 1 pon their backs; he trod the water,
Sed. As if it had lunes, and rotten nes, Whose enmity he thung aside, and breasted

“int, Or, as *twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing ady ilugeous to life, hear

“int. True; save means to live, Bove the contentious wayes he ke pt, and oar’d
Seb. Of th r little. Liimself{ with his eood arms m lusty stroke
Gon. How lush? and lusty the crass look ! how! 1 he sl "er hi

. 7 ° } }
green ! As sti DInsS lO reLlevt him. I not aoubt,
Int. The ground, indeed, is tawny. ie came alive t l.

it there’s 1 me.

: . 5 : . - } n hers 0
Seb, With an eye? of green in’t. LON. No, no, he S pone.
Ant. He: misses not much. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great
Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. ;
J . . . . . . e ry ‘ - <= oe . %% shes Lie’ naw +4} . y¥ . .
Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, al-| That would not bless ow Europe with your daugh-
most beyond credit—) ler,
= . Daal tine ince har tn as ican:
Seb. As many vouch’d rariti ‘ i | ner to an a can>
Gon. That our garments, ‘ , as tl] were, | V4 : he, at least, is bi ‘d from your eye,
drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstandins, their) Who hath cause to 1 t the ‘grief on
freshness, and g! $; being rather new dy’d, thar Jiton, Pr’ythee, peace,
stain’d with salt water. eo. You were kneel’d to, and mportun’d
“Int. If but one of his pockets. uld k, would i ; : PwWiIse — a ; VP
it not say. He les? 3 lofus: ; | the fair soul herself

Sed. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his r r relch’d, betwe lothness and obedience, at
Gon Ni | in k <. our CArmMmenis r’ now i . V\ LIC i} Cl Lo i@ peam she’d DOW. \\ e have lost

as when wi nat them on first in Afric, at t " ) . :
j | ’ ' ’ ; | | ! . - ? Ve © \1il 7T) anc Nay les ive
riage of the King’s fair dauchter Clarib the k L fear, 1 ever: Milan and Na va
of Tunis ‘i widows in them of this business’ m: iking,
Seb. Ty isa siweet marriage, and we p ‘han v mento comfort them: the fault’s
well in our ret : ; ’ 4 }
eS n . sd] rey ; ie dearest of the loss.
ldr. Tunis was nev ac’d br ith ‘ / Pe :
to their : ( ‘ly lord Sebastian,
paragon to their queen. an *
; (y Not since widow Dido's ti i trl yur Ss? doth lack some gentleness,
r i. Since Wi } i . : ag ay 30
int. Widow? a pox o’ that! how came that! And tim ds it in: you rub the sore,
wi sae : cert : onl ery {}) nlaster.
witow in? Widow Dido Tae oe Sneee aTe iid Very well
Seb. What if he had s id, widower JEn } co, bs ery well.
rood lord, how you kp if! ail \ ont
' 1d Wid lL) | , ’ ( | I In u all, good sir,
. / ay {
fud if that: she w a V ( ; .
. Gon, T | Seb. Foul weather ?
dds C Hieest - Very foul.
fy rt hao . . ‘ oo ‘ 4
Gon. 1 iatiet C Gon. Had Ia plantation of this isle, my lord,—
( a LSSU} you, t . , Peg ge : 47 ’ 3
} t. His word is more! miraculous] int. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
‘Sch, He } ee valetd ; Sel Or docks, or mallows,
- nati rfl Ln \V if a ; ‘ as
‘aut WW) ot f And the king of it, What would Ido?
: \ ’ 3 ” I i , . = ® . . .
ual ee : Seb. ’Seape being drunk, for want of wine.
owt ; . i
ae oe. 3 1] ie ttn 1 Po es Gon, |? commonwealth I would by contraries
./ Ty : } riba a | : ° - .
re Piliay s eet, iil E. | things: for no kind of trafhie
} , * } i ry t ti : { i} . i KITT
ocket, and give it his . we E ' le ae ery ie of magistrate
| Dn Ay Al sowine ‘},, i ; of ‘ j 47 seq. +\ j lunjt: non me ol magistrate 3 :
} 7s - : a — : | hould not be known; no use of service,
ring lortn more islands,

, } Of riches or of pov Lvs no contracts,
Gon, Ay! | 14: Sueccessions: bound of ind, tilth, vineyard, none .
Int. Why, in good time.

ae est nn dian aed E 1, or wine, or oll:
. lire » »> talking, that ir ryarmcni VO USe OL Met
(; m, Si $ re vi Pose : ru ‘ N ‘ tio: My men idle . all :
scem now as iresi, as when we ,

: . ; 4 } ; xt : And women too: but innocent and pure;
marriage ol your dauenter, who ts now queen, :

' rarpet f f opr r) ’ re. Ci ag § | : 3
fink. sme “Tb pint? aa r) Sch And vet he would be king on’t.
Seb. , fate peserech Vou, Widow Me °

Int. The latter end of his commonwealth for-
‘Aint. O, widow Dido: av, widow Di E ins, 2D ne
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as [re 1 as ihe irs > inl

hee ;
“+ ae + 4 Gon. Al! thingsincommon nature should produce
day I wore it } ] mean, if a ao \"\ ithout weut or endeavour : treason, felony,
Ant. That sort was well fish’d for.

, . — ‘moa §
ry : ; hter’s marriave?| Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Gon. When I woreitat your dauchter’s marriag “ns oe

(a) < » of colour (4) Degree or quality, (5) The rack,
(1) Temperature, (2) Rank, (3) Shade of colour, \ \

13

she surge most swoln that met him: his bold

ore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d

  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
  
   
    
     
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
      
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
      
    
  
  
    
 
  
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
   
 
  
 
 

Penn Eman | aneeee

earl

eer a aes SN ATS

 

 

 

id PEMPBST, het I

Would I Hot haves but natuie should bring forth, /Whiles thou art w akang: a Ro
Of its own kind, all eee? all abundance, " Se ; ae ane snore distin
To feed my innocent people. here’s mean ng in snores.

Seb. No marrying ead his subjects ? 4int. Lam more serious than my custom: you

Ant. None, man; all idl e; whores and knaves. Must be so Loo, if heed me ; which to do,
|Trebles thee o’er.

: ld with such verfection govern, sir
eee 3 ros al age. Carl, Bee. Well; Iam standing water,
Seh * °” Save his majesty ! Ant. Vil teach you how to flow.
; : Seb Do so: to ebb

Ant. Long live Gonzalo! . a |
Gon. And, do you mark me, sir ?——| Hereditary sloth instructs me.

ilon, Pr’ythee, no more: Thou dost talk no-| Ant.
thing to me Ar you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Gon. I do well believe your highness ; and did) |Whiles thus you moe k it! kos , in stripping it,
it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always|Most often do so near the bottom run,
use to laugh at nothing r. By {heir own lear, or sloth.
| Cp} ) ana
Int. "Twas you we Jauel rd at. } nen Prythee, say on
Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am) Che setting of thine eye, and chee k, proclaua
nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh \ matter from thee ; and a birth, indeed,
at nothing still, : ' Which throes thee much to yield.
Ant. What a blow was there given: | «dnt. Thus, sar
Seb. An it had not fallen flat- Yo ne.
Gon. You are gentlemen of brave m« ttle ;
would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would
cortinue in it five weeks without changing.

Alt hough this lord of we ak remembrance, this
you '(Who shall be of as littke memory,
When he is earth’d,) hath here almost persuaded
|(or he’s a spirit of persuasion only, )
The king, his son’s alive; tis as impossib le
Enter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music | That he’s undrown’d, as he that sleeps here swiins

| Seb. I have no hope

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat t-fowling. |That he’s undrown’d.
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. | Aint. O, out of that no hope,
Gon. No, I warrant you: I will not adventure| What great hope have you! no hope, that way, 1s
my discretion sO weakly. Wil lyou laughmea sleep »,; Another wi ay so high a hope, that even 4

 

for I am very heavy ? ‘Ambition cannot pierce a wink be yond,
Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. ‘But doubts discovery there. W iif you ¢ erant, witl
[.4ll sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant. me, :
What, all sosoonasleep! I wish mine eye a hat Ferdinand is drown’d?
, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I} Sed, He’s gone.
find, J/lit. ‘Then, tell me,
..ey are inclined to do so. \Who’s the next heir of Naples?
Seb. Please you, sir, | Seb. Claribel.
Do not omit the heavy offer of it: int. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth, Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples
It is a comforter. iCan have no note, unless the sun were post,
Ant. We two, my lord, 1 (‘I'he mani’ the moon’stoo slow, ) till ne w-born chins
Will guard your person, while you ti ike your rest,|Be rough and razorable: she, from whom
And watch your safety. VV were allsea-swallowed, though some cast again
Alon. Thank you: wondrous heavy.| And, by that, destin’d to perform an act,
[Alonso slee Ds. Bait Ariel. Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
Seb, What as strange drowsine SS "DOs sesses them! |{n yours and my discharge.
aint. It is the quality o’ the plimate. | Neb, What stufl is this ?— Llow say vou ?
Seb. Why Tis true, my brothers daughter’s queen of Tune
Doth it not then our e ye-lids sink? TIT find not ISo is she heir ot Naple s: ’twixt which regions
Myself dispos’d to ere |There is some space, P
Ant. Norl: my spirits are nimble.| Ant. A space whose every cubit
They fell together all, as by consent; Seems to ery but, How-shall that Claribel
They dro »p’d, as bya thunder-stroke. What might, | Measure us back to Naples ?—Ke pin Tunik
Worthy Sebastian ? —), whx itmi¢ rht ?—No more:— And let Se bastian wake !— Say, this were de ath
And yet methinks, I see it in thy face, 'That now hath seiz’d them; why, they were no
What thou should’st be : the occasion speaks thee ; | worse
and 'Than now they are: there be, that can rule Na-
My strong imagination sees a crown | ples,
Dropping upon thy head. |As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
Seb. What, art thou waking ? As amply : and unnece 2h P a
Ant. Do you not hear me speak ? |As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
Seb. I do: and, surely,!A chough?2 of as de epchat. O, that you bore
It is a sleepy language; and thou speak’st ' |The mind that Ido! what a sle pw ere this
Out of thy sleep: what is it thou didst say? \For your advancement! Do you understand me ?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep | | Seb. Methinks I do. ot
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,| nt. And how does your content
And yet so fast asleep. Tender your own good fortune ? >
Ant. Noble Sebastian, | Seb. I remembe
Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die rathe r: wink’st! a

{1) Plenty, (2) A bird of the jack-daw kind,Seene I),

You did supplant your brother Prosjiero,
“Int,

And look, how well my

Much feater than before: my brother’s servants

Were then my fellows

» how they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience—

“Int. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were al
*T would put me to my slipper: but I feel not

rl
This deity in my bosom: twent

garments sit upon me:

cibe,

y consciences,
That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brotl
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he’s like ;
With this obedient steel, three
Can lay to bed forever: whiles you
To the perpetual wink for aye! might
This ancient morsel, this sir Prud:
Should not upbraid our course.
They’ ll take suggestion,? as a cat laps milk;
They’ ll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Sed.

ier,

whom I,

inches of it,

, doing thu
put

who

For all the rest,

S

)

Tice,

}

i

Thy case, dear frien
Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay’st ;
And I the king shall love
“Int,
And when I rear my ha:
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Sed,

’

tha
LOU.

Dra
1d, do you the like

0, Dull ore word.
[Th yy COnNVETSE apart.
Music. Re-ent r Ari 1, t ivisthle °
Ari. My master through his art foresees the

danger
That these, his friend are in; and sends me forth,
( For else his project die s,) to kee pt

| Sin

hem living.

stn Gonzalo éar

While you here do snoriune lis

Open-ey’d Conspiracy
His time doth tak.

If of life you keep a ¢

Shake off shumbe r, and beware
Awake ! !

,

awake

int. Then let us both be sudde1

Gon, Now, rood ange ls, preserve tli king !
| Lhe wis
lon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you
drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking ?

Gon,
Seb. W hiles we stood he re jr repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowin
Like bulls, or rathertions; did it not wake you?
it struck mine ear most terribly.
lon. I heard nothing.
“Int. O, ’twas a din to fright a monste ar;
To make an earthquake! sure it was th
Of a whole herd of lions.
llon. Heard you thi 3, Gonzalo?!
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I |
ming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me :|
I shak’d you, sir, and cry’d; as mine eyes open’d,
I saw their weapons drawn :—there was a noise,
That’s verity: *best stand upon our guard ;
Or that we quit this place : let’s draw our weapons, |
Alon. Lead off this ground ; and let’s make fur
ther search

(1) Ever. (2) Any hint.
(3) Make mouths,

What's

SECuriniy 5

tne matter

r’s ea
roar |
|

ieard a hum-

 

TEMPEST.

True :

  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
    
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
 
  
     
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
   
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
  

15

For my poor sori.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts !
For he is, sure, i? the island,
e llon.

Lead away.

“drt. Prospero my lord shall know what I have
done: Aside,

¢, go safely onto seek thy son. [Exeunt,

SCENE II.—Another part of the Island. Enter

Caliban, with a burden of wood. A noise of
thunder heard,

$0, kin

Cal. All the infections that the

sun sucks up
‘ ha
POI DO

» fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make
him
By inch-mx ala di

rs

’ scase! His spirits hear me,

And yet I needs must curse. But they’ ll nor pinch,
right me with urchin shows, pitch me ? the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark,

Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but

For every trifle are they set upon me:

Sometimes like apes, that moe? and chatter at me,
And after, bite me: then like hedge-hogs, which
lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I

\ll wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness :—Lo! now! lo!

Enter Trinculo.

Here comes a spirit of his

; and to torment me,
For brin

cing wood in slowly; Tll fall flat ;
Perchance he will not mind me.

l’rin. Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
iny weather at all, and another storm brewing; |
hear it sing ? the wind: yond?’ same black cloud,

yond’ huge one, looks like a foul bumbard* 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-
luls.—What have we here? a man or a fish?
Vead or alive? A fish: he smells like a lish; a
| fish-like smell; a kind of, not of
Poor John. A strange fish! Were I
ind now, (as once I was,) and had this fish
painted, not a holiday fool there but would vive a
mece ol silver: there would this monster make a
inge beast there makes a man: when

very ancient ane

i newest,

nan: any

will not

SLT

Ley

rive a doit to relieve a lame beggar,
they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legoe’d
like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o’ my
troth! Ido now let loose my opinion, hold it no
longer; this is no fish, but an islander, that hath
lately suflered by a thunderbolt. [Thunde r.] Alas!
the storm is come again: my best way is to creep
under his gaberdine:* there is no other shelter

hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange
bed-fellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs of

‘
‘

the storm he past,

Enter Stephano, singing ;
] shall no more to SP a, lo sea,
Here shall I die ashore ;—
This isa very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral:
Well, here’s my comfort. [ Drinks,
The master, the-swabber, the boastswain, and J,
The gunner, and kis mate,
Lov’d Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car’d for Kate:
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go, hang:

)
}

a bottle in his hand.

fe
ILE.

A black jack of leather, to hold beer,

(4
(6) The frock of a peasant,er

aie

Reel

[See

ae

 

ME

ome

iG TEMPEST.

She lov’d not the savour of lar nor of pitch, lI ese
Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she diditch: | heavy’
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

This is a scurvy tune too: but}
: [Drinks.| Ca
Cal. Donot tormentme: O! True
Ste. What’s the matter? Have we devils here ? |
Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men of}
Inde?! Ha! I have not ’scap’d drowning, to be

Act I.

ap’d upon a butt of sack, which the sailors
d over-board, by this bottle! which I made of

ithe bark of a tree, W ith mine own hands, since I
.cre’s my comfort. | was cast a-shore.

1. Pll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy
subject; for the liquor is not earthly.

Ste. Here; swear then how thou escap’dst.
Tr

swim like a duck, Pll be sworn.

in. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck; I can

it hath been said,| Ste. Here, kiss the book: though thou canst swim

afeard now of yourfour legs; for it ni

As proper aman as ever went on four lees, cannot|like a duck, that art made like a goose.
make him give ground: and it s hall besaidsoagain,| TJ'rin. O stephano, hast any more of this?
Ste. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in arock

while Stephano breathes at nostrils. a
Cal. ‘I'he spirit torments me:

OQ! by the

sea-side, where my wine 1s hid, liow now,

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four moon-caif? How does thine ague?
legs; who hath got, as 4 take it, an ague: wher Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?
the devil should he learn our language? Iw il wive| Sle. Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the
him some relief, if it be but for that: ‘f 1 can reco-|man in the moon, when time was,
ver him, and keep him tame, and getto Naples with| Cal. 1 have seen thee in her, and I doadore thee ;
him, he’s a present for any emperor that ever trod|My mistress showed me thee, thy dog, and bush.

on neat’s leather. Si

S901

Cal. Do not torment me, pr’ytnee ; \furni

Vil bring my wood home taste r
Ste, He’s in his fitnow; and does not talc a
the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have|—'l

never drunk wine afore, if will go near to remoye|mo!

Nf é

rin.
t talk after|monst
‘he man i’ the moon ?—a most poor eredulous

_ Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will
ish it enon with new contents: swear,

By this good light, this is a very shallow
1 afeard of him ?—a very weak monster:

“ers

ister :-—1ell drawn, monster, in good sooth.

?
his fit: if l can recover him, and keep him tame, 1} Cal. Pll show thee « very fertile inch 0” the island:
will not take too much for him: he shall pay for him| And kiss thy toot: I pr’ythee, be my god.
oe . a ’ a
that hath him, and that soundly | Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
Cal. Thou dost me yet but litti hurt: thou wilt| monster ; when his god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle.
Anon, I know it by thy tremblin Cal. Vilkiss thy foot: Pll swear myself thy sub-
Now Prosper works upon ta ject.
Ste. Come on your ways; open your I Ln Ste. Come on then; down, and swear,
here is that which will give language to-you, cat ; Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-
open your mouth: this will shake your s} } li}headed m ter: a most scurvy monster! 1 could
ean tell you, and that soundly: you cannot | ll/find in my heart to beat him,—
who's your friend: open your chaps agai. Ste. Come, kiss.
Trin. I should know that voice: lt sno ld be- Trin. —but that the poor moneter’s in drink: an
but he is drowned; and these are devils: O! de- abominable monster !
fend me !— ( lil show thee the best springs ; Til pluck
Ste. Four legs, and tio voices ;> a mos! deli thee berries ;
monster! His forward voice now is to speak well) P) h for thee, and get thee wood enough.
of his friend; his back vard voice is to utter foul) A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in m bot-|Pll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
tle will recover him, I will help his ague : come,——|‘Thau we ndrous man.
Amen: I will poui somein thy other mou. l'rin. A rnost ridicuious monster; to make a
Trin. Stephano,— wonder of a poor drunkard
Ste. Doth thy other mout! Sun? Mesweti Cal. 1+ 14) od <
ee ee ercy. al. I pr’ythee, let me bring thee where crabs
mercy ! this is adevil, and nomonster: i Wii leave row ;
+ Vy no Snoon A ] ,*} . nee rn th ae b ®
nim ; J have no lon ‘eee A ae df, 1 i my long nails, will dig thee pig-nuts ;
Trin. Stephano pores SOU beest Stephano, touch| Show thee a Jay's ne st, and instruct thee how
me, and speck to ae x, lam Trinculo:—be not|To snare the nimble marmozet; Ill bring thee
i __thy ac feiand Trincn) TEN on asl oi | eee . mn
roe oT a ts nd ‘Trinculo, ; lo clust’ring filberds, and sometimes I’ll get thee
p } pp mn “Ame | 1 nisl l nsner bin.mnlias . ' es . <
Ste. If thou beest 'Trincuio come forth Pil y Youn sea-mells* from the rock. Wilt thou go with
thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trn o’s legs 16? ,
} me |
sep AYP VU "y*}, ort ve rine rd snreaen & aes? and I .
these are they. Thou art v ry Trinculo; indeed : Ste. I pr’ythee now, lead the way, without any
how cam’st thou to be the sie e2 of this moon-calf?|more talking.—Trinculo, the ki a ' .
fan he yent Trimculos? :j}m alking.—Trineulo, the king and all our com-
zan ne ven rincuios ¢ pany else being drowned, we will inherit here.—

Trin. 1 took him to be kill’d with a thunder-| He
stroke :—But art thou not drowned, Stephano? J hi
hope now, thou art not drowned. Is
over-blown! I hid me under the dead moon-call’s
gaberdine, for fear of the sterm: and art thon living, |
Stephano ? 0 Stephano, tio Neapolitans ’sean’d !|
Ste. Pr’ythee, do not turn me about; ms stomach
is not constant, ;

Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not sprites,
That’s a brave god, and bears c: lestial liquor :

J will kneel to him.
Ste. How didst thou ’scape? How cam’st thou

 

re; bear my bottle: Fellow Trineulo, we'll fill

n by and by again.

‘ 1
LOrm) Y.] . maannll > . Q
4 Cal. Farewell master ; farewell, farewell,

[Sings drunkenly.

rr. Siete :
Trin. A howling monster: a drunken monster.
Cal. No more dams Pll make for fish ;

Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish ;
> Ban, ’Ban, Ca—Caliban,
Has anew masler—Gel a new man,

hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam’st hither
: ; ‘ ’ am’ st hither,|Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, fi ,
g MeyeMey S -day, freedom: freed
Y i y, : om,

(1) India. (2) Stool, (3) Sea-gulls,

hey-day, freedom!

Ste, O brave monster! leadthe way, [Ewxeunt,Seene J, I, TEMPEST, 17

OT 1H |More that ] may ¢ all men, than you, good friend,
- . And my dear father : how features s are abroad,

SCENE L—Before Prospero’s cell. Enter Py r= | ain si illele ss ol; but by my modesty

dinand, bearing a loc. (Lhe jewel in my dower,) I would not wish
’ ” , Any companion in the world but you;

Fer, There be some sports are painful; but} Nor can imagination for ‘m a shape,
their labour besides yourself, to like of: but I prattle
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baser methine t

of baseness |So 0 wildly, and my father’s S precepts
Are nobly undergone: and mo poor matte) i nt .
Point to rich ends, This my mean task would } her. I am, in my condition,
As heavy lo me, as ’tis odious : buf \ pri q Vii i I do think, a king;
The mistress, which I serv, , quickens what's d »/\* would, not so!) and would no more endure
And makes ray labours pleasures: O, she is W slavery, than I would suffer
Ten times m re gentle than h r father’s crabb Pei flesh-fly bloy iny mouth, Hear my soul speak ;
And he’s compos’d of harshn - i must very instant that I saw you, did
some ousende-of th logs, and pile them 1 : ‘i LY to yi ur service ; there resides,
Upon a sore injunction: my eweet mistre . I n ive to it; and, for your sake,
oan when she sees me WOrkK; and » suc! A : i) cnt lo “man,

buseness

Mira. Jo you love me?

Had ne'er like executor. I forect: fer, O heaven. earth, bear Witness to this
But these sweet thoy its d en ref h m nad

Be ate protess with kind event,

ibours :
Most busy-less, when I do it. i Kf ; It hoilowly, invert
y\ (me, to mischief! I,
Enter Miranda: and Pro ta t of what else? 7? the world,

‘ . + : Vo | » PFI » LONOI r you.

Wire. ; ar wee ee ;0U,) Mira, I am a fool,
Work not so hard: I would. ¢ [' ‘what lam glad of.
Burnt up those logs, that you } ' Fair ¢ counter
Pr i) sel it dow nh, and res \ Bs } ‘ () : cti ns He ave ns ri ain erace
*T will VW p for iavil ‘i iricd you, iv i i which ls betwe n the
Is hard at SLuUGY; pray now. yO .

ker, Wherefore weep you ?
He’s safe for these th h . . At m nworthiness, that dare not offer
Fer. v ba y\ i i ve; and much le ss take,
The sun will set, before I shall , t | i die to want: Bu a is trifling ;
What I mu Lrive to do. ‘ '
5

i i the m it seeks to hide itself.
tar lien, It you'll sit . Hene bask hful cunning
rll bear your logs the while: Pome Gare 4 > 1 Al me, plain and hale Innocence!
I'll carry it to the pile. 4 (ec, if you will marry me;
er. NO, | t not, P vO maid: to be your fellow
I had rather crack my si ay | oA I ) ' t Pll be your servant,
Than you should such dishon

While I sit lazy by. ler. My mistress, dearest,

Vira. It woul \ noble et
As well as it does you: ; yu Vira, My husband then?
With much more « i ; I I " Mi, i ‘ i t as willing
And yoars against. \s | ‘er of freedom: here’s my hand,

Pro. Poor worm! thou ‘Uire, And mine, with my heart in’t: And now
This visitation shows it. fare

«Vira. tou look ,

Fer. No, noble mistress ; ’tis {j Wi ler. A thousand! thousand !

me, [Exeunt Fer, and Mir,

When you are by at night. | lad of this as they, 1 cannot be,
(Chiefly, that I micht set it j Ly | ‘\ ‘d with all: but my re joicing
What is your name ? \ can be n : r i to my book;

Mira. Mii i ct) ;

ee 3. » ¢ | ime, must I perform
' es,

I have broke your hest! to yp BA a Dis] Ss appertaining, [Eavit,

Fe ys i ro rill
Indeed, ane | - "7 - m ‘e 5 ; ! i } i i Ed tiaiie linn ther / yf of the Tsland. Ente~
a ni it’ 5 cl ! ry F ’ bole t ' " a ; q i i ds Caliban following with

have ey’d with b I :
The h irmony oll
Brought my too a ent ¢ i ¥ Sle. Tell not m -— when the butt i is out, we will
wos . ey \ Sete a : , r water; notadrop before: the refore bear up,
With so full soul, bu me ¢ te in - id board ’em: Ser int-monster, drink to me.
Did quarrel with the nobl race she ow’d,

he foil: but you, O drut. Servant-monster? the folly of this island #
And put it to the foil : canoe a Chey say, there’s but five upon this isle: we are
Ny PEreeeh, ONG 8 Bet? ote GRCRON irce Of them; if the other two he brained like us,
Of evi ry creature’s best, at) ee)
Mira. I do not kno al

; ef ' fe. Drink. serv: int-monste ¥, = on I bid thee ; .
One or my seX; no woman’s face ren Mel l, aves are simon set in thy ‘ae
Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I scen

; | Trin. Where should they be aot ahaa ® he Were
| brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail,
; : (2 rd ,) VW nt ever, |
(1) Command, (2) Own’d. (

gor my standard.
he’s no stand-
|

|

ard,

Ste. We'll not run, monsieur monster. |
Trin. Nor go neither: but you lie, like dogs ; |
and yet say nothing neither.
Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life,
beest a good moon-calf.

Cal. How does thy honour?

shoe ; |
I'll not serve him, he is not valiant.

Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster ; I am|
in case to justle aconstable: Why, thou deboshed' |
fish thou, was there ever man a coward, that hath)
drunk so much sack as [to-day ? Wilt thou tell a|
monstrous lie, being but half a fish, and half a|
monster ?

Cul. Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him,
my lord?

Trin. Lord, quoth he !—tl
t be such a natural !

Cal. Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prythee. |
Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head ; |

my lieutenant, monster, 01
Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list ;

‘ ge
Vinal epee keep

if thou|

Let me lick thy,

 

 

iat a monster should

monster’s my subject, and he shall not sufler indig-
nity.

Ca. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas’d
To hearken once again the suit I made thee ?

Ste. Marry will L: kneel, and repeat it; I will
stand, and so shall Trinculo.

Enter Aricl, invisible.

Cal. As I told thee
Before, I am subject to a tyrant ;

A sorcerer, that by his cunning hath

Cheated me of this island.
Ari. Thou liest.
Cal. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou:

I would my valiant master would destroy thee ;

I do not lie.

Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his
tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your
teeth.

Trin. Why, I said nothing.

Ste. Mum then, and no more.—[ To Caliban, |
Proceed.

Ca. I say, by sorcery he got this isle ;

From me he gotit. Ifthy greatness will
Revenge it on him—for, I know, thou dar’st ;
But this thing dare not.

Ste. That’s most certain.

Cal, Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee.

Ste. How now shall this be compassed? Canst
thou bring me to the party?

Cal. Yea, yea, my lord; Pll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou may’st knock a nail into his head.

ri. Thou liest, thou canst not.

Cal, What a pied ninny’s this !2

patch !—
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows,
And take his bottle from him: when that’s gone,

Where the quick freshes? are.

atock-fish of thee.

t3} Debauched.
2) Alluding to Trinculg’s party-coloured dress

a |
oo, is TEMPEST.
es | Ste. My mafmoénster h |
— in sack: for my ao the sea cannot drown me: I fu
q as i! swam, ére I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty |
si leagues, off and on, by this light.—Thou shalt be’

you

if you prove a mutineer, the next tree—The poor |

Thou scurvy

He shall drink nought but brine; for Pl! not show
é {him

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger ; inter-
rupt the monster one word further, and, by this
hand, V’ll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a

   
 

Act itt.

   
 
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
     
 
  
 
  
  
   
    
   

ath drowned his tongue| ‘Z'rin. Why, what did I? I did nothing ; I'll go

rther off.
Ste. Didst thou not say, he lied?
Ari. Thou liest.
Ste. Do I so? take thou that. [strikes him.] As
like this, give me the lie another time.
Trin. I did not give the lie :—Out o’ your wits,
and hearing too ?—A pox o’ your bottle! this ean
sack and drinking do.—A murrain on your mot
ster, and the devil take your fingers !
Cal. Ha, ha, ha!
Ste. Now, forward with your tale.
stand further off.
Cal. Beat him enough: after a little time,
Pll beat him too.
Ste. Stand further. —Come proceed.
Cal. Why, as I told thee, *tis a custom with him
I’ the afternoon to sleep: there thou may’st brain
him,
Having first seiz’d his books; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his weazand* with thy knife: Remember,
First to possess his books ; for without them
He’s but a sot, as lam, nor hath mot
One spirit to command: They all do hate him,
As rootedly as I: Burn but his books ;
He has brave utensils (for so he calls them,)
Which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal.
And that most deeply to consider, is

Pr’ythce,

|The beauty of his daughter ; he himself
‘Calls her a nonpareil: I ne’er saw woman,
|But only Sycorax my dam, and she;

|But she as far surpasseth Sycorax,

As greatest does least.

Ste. Is it so brave a lass?

Cal. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, | warrant,
'And bring thee forth brave brood.

| Ste. Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter
and I will be king and quecn; (save our graces !)
and Trineulo and thyself shall be viceroys :—Dost

thou like the plot, Trinculo ?
Trin, Excellent.
Ste. Give me thy hand; IT am sorry I beat thee,
but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy
head.
Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep :
Wilt thou destroy him then?

Sle. Ay, on mine honour.

Ari. This will I tell my master,

Cal. Thou mak’st me merry : I am full of plea-

sure ;

Letus be jocund: Will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere ?

Ste. At thy request, monster, T will do reason,
any reason: Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.

[ Sines.

Flout ’em, and skoul’em; and skout ’em, and
flout ’em ;
Thought is free.

Cal, That’s not the tune.
[Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.

Sle. What is this same ?

Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by
the picture of No-body.

Ste. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy
likeness; if thou beest a devil, take’t as thou list.

Trin. O, forgive me my sins !

Ste. He that dies, pays all debts:
Mercy upon us!

Cal. Art thou afeard ?

Ste. No, monster, not I.

I defy thee :—

 

(3) Springs,

+ ener

(4) Throat,e
Scene IT?. TE -% s ood

EMPEST,
Cal. Be nat eard : the isle is full of noises, | (For, Cértes,’ these le ;
} sé are people of the island, )

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give deli ght, and hurt} Who, thourh they are of monstrous sha Ie, yet note,
. , hot, | Their manners are more gentle-kind, dias of
Sometimes a thousand twangling instrument Our human generation you shall find
Will h in about mine ears ; and sometimes voices, Many, ni LY, almost any,
That, if I th nh had wak’d after lone sh ep, Pro. Honest lord,

. 4 Len so im” aoe . mal +] : :
Will MAKE Ine sleep again: and th n, in dreaming, | Thou hast said well; for some of you there present,
fhe clouds, methou rht, would o; Aside.

wint, “id open, and show) Are wors e than devils,
riche Allon. I cannot too much muse, *

,
R idy t

stomachs,—

» drop upon me: that. wh n I wak’d, Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, ex-

I ery'’d to dre Lm again. oe

fe. This will prove a brave kingdom to me,} (Although they want the use of tongue,) a kind
Where I shall have my music {; *nothme,. Of exccilent dumb diseourse.

Cal, When.Prospero is dk stroyed, Pro. Praise in departing.

oe. That shall be by and by: I remember the [.Aside.
S'ory, Fran, Th y Vanish’d stras nze ly

frin. The sound is Somg away: let’s followit,| Sed. "No matter, since
and after, do our work. Mhey have left their viands behind ; for we have

Ste, Lead, nionster : we'll follow.—I would, |

us taborer: he lays it on. Will’t please you taste of what is here ?

Stephano. | «dlon. Not I.
[Exreunt.| Gon. Faith, Sir, you necd not fear: When we

wer boy 5.
vt E I. .,nother part of the Island. En-|Who would believe that there y cre mountaineers,
l \lonso, Sébast} in, Antonio, Gonzal », Adrian, | Dew-] I e ‘d | tik L ills, whose throats had hanging’
Fj iicisco, and oth rs. : ler
( By’r laktin,’ I ean go no furthe: a Waltety of Hak or that there were such men,
a e ’ — = « INT a yy nose Neads slLood in ther breasts 7 which how we
ty old bow lene: here's amaze trod, indeed. find.
So aghts, and meanders! by your pa-| Rach purter-out on five for one, will brine us
Lience, (y md rrant of,
| ist rest mo, ; llon. { will stand to, and feed,
=r ee. rd, I cannot blame thee, lth ugh my lasl: no matter, since I feel
- - myseu allach’d wilt weariness, "he best is past :—Brother, my lord the duke,
: hess tS of may pirn > BA Wil, aiid rest, stand too, end do as we.
Ven i L will put ¢ my hope, and keep it
a Ton ' : my fatter ‘2 eae ( WIC, Thunder and lithtnineg. Enter Ariel like a har-
‘hom Uhus we stray to find Ln Sea mock py: elu) his 4 wings upon the tuble, and with a
‘Par frustrats ch on land: Well, let him + V Q taint device, the ha nguet vanishes.
eaits id irighl el 1 that he yout of } ye.
/iside to Sebastian. Iri. You are three mi n of sin, whom de ‘stiny
D n, I ic repulse, forego the pu pos (‘That hath to instrument this lower world,
That yout lv’d to effect, And what is in’t ,) the never-surfeited sea
, The next tame Llath cause yy lech up; and on this island
\wul we take thorouchly. Where man doth not inhabit: you ’monest men
lal. Lct it be to-nicht - Being most unfit to live. T have made you mad -
For, now they are oppre a with travel, they [Seeing Alon, Seb. &c. draw their swords.
\\ ill Hol, nor cann i, USC such vi il ince, And even with suc Tr Tite valour, men hang and
\. Witch LimyY are fi . drown
iO, | Say, lOo-nivhl: no more, The ir prope . selyes, \ Ou fools! I and my fellows
Are ministers ol fate: the elements
Sulemn and sltrance musi. and Prospero above. Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as well
iuvisible. Enter several stranere Shan ‘, bring-| Wound the loud winds, or with In moek ’d-at stabs
ral nd banguel : lhey dan woul wdarith gren- ill thi still-clo Ing waters, as dimunish
lle a is of salutation ; and inviling the king,| One dowle* that’s in m\ pluie; my fcllow-ministers
de. lo eal, they denurt, \re like invulnerable: if you could hurt,
| cs Your swords are now too ma sy for your 'strengths,
sllon. What harmony is this? my rood friends. | And will not be uplifted: But, remember
hark ! '(l°or that’s my business to you.) that you three
Cron. Marv lous veet music | ‘From Milan did supplant rood Prospero ;
ton, Give us kind keepers, heavens '—What E.xpos’d unto the sea, which hath requit it,
vere these | Him, and his innocent child; for which foul deed
Seb. A living drollery:? Now I will beli ve; The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Phat there are unicorns: that in Arabia :

..| Incens’d the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures
there is one tree, the pharnix’ throne ; one phanix \eainst your peace: Thee, of thy son, \lonso,
\t this hour reigning there. lhey have bereft: and do pronounce by me,
tal, Pil believe both : Lingering perdition (worse than any death
‘an be at onee) shall step by step attend
You, and your ways; whose wrath to guard you
from
‘s0n. vin Nap He (Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
t should report this now, would they believe m Upon your heads,) j nothing, but heart’s sorrow,
fi 1 should say | saw such islandey

And what does else want eri lit, come to me,
ce vores true: Travellers ne’er did lie,
Tho C foul: hon condemn them.

(5) Down.-_
sO
41

4 i
_

 

On) 2 TEMP

Anda clear! fife ensuing.

He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter
the Shapes again, and dance wilh mops and
mowes, and carry out the table,

Pro. {Aside.] Bravely the figure of this harpy
hast thou
Perform’d, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring:
Of my instruction hast thou nothing *bated,
In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life,
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
Their several kinds have done: my high charms
work,
And these, mine enemies, are all knit up
In their distractions: they now are in my power};
And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit
Young Ferdinand (whom they suppose is drown’d, )
And his and my lov’d darling.
[Exit Prospero from above,
Gon. I’ the name of something holy, sir, why
stand you
In this strange stare ?

Alon. O, itis monstrous! monstrous !|
Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc’d
The name of Prosper; it did bass my tresy.ass.
Therefore my son i’ the ooze is bedded; and
I'll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded. [ Evit.
} But one fiend at a time,

  
 
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 

EST. et IV
Sour-ey’d disdain, and discord, shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loavly,
That you shall hate it both: therefore, take need,
As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.
Fer. As
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,
When I shall think, or Phoebus’ steeds are founder'’d
Or night kept chain’d below.
Pro. Fairly spoke :
Sit then, and talk with her, she is thine own.—
What, Aricl: my industrious servant Aricl!

hope

Enter Aricl.

Ari. What would my potent master? here lam.
Pro. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last
service

Did worthily perform; and I must use you

In such another trick: go, bring the rabble,

O’er whom I give thee power, here, to this place:

Incite them to quick motion; for I must

Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple

Some vanity of mine art; it is my promise,

And they expect it from me.
Ari.
Pro. Ay, with a twink.
Ari. Before you can say, Come, and go,

Presently ?

 

eb.

]’ll fight their legions o’er.
Ant, I'll be thy second,

[Exeunt Seb. and Ant.
Gon. All three of them are desperate; their

great guilt,

Like poison given to work a great time after,

Now ’gins to bite the spirits :—I do beseech you

That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,

And hinder them from what this ecstacy?

May now provoke them to.
Adr. Follow, I pray you.

[Exveunt.

ie
ACT IV.
SCENE I,—Before Prospero’s cell. Enter Pros-

pero, Ferdinand, and Miranda,

Pro. If I have too austerely punish’d you,
Your compensation makes amends ; for I
Have given you here a thread of mine own life,
Or that for which I live ; whom once again
I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift, O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me, that I boast her ofi,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,
And make it halt behind her,

Fer. I do believe it,
Against an oracle,

Pro. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
Worthily tard. take my daughter: But
If thou dost break her virgin knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister’d,
No sweet aspersion® shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,

(1) Pure, blameless, (2) Alienation of mind,

i} And breathe twice; and cry, so, so!
| Each one, tripping on his toe,
| Will be here with mop and mowe:
Do you love me, master? no.
Pro. Dearly, my delicate Ariel: Donotapproach,
Till thou dost hear me call.
ri. Well I conceive.
Cait.
Pro. Look, thou be true: do not give dalliance
| Foo much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw
‘To the fire i? the blood: be more abstemious,
|Or else, good night, your vow!
Fer. I warrant you, sir;
‘he white-cold virgin snow upon my heart
Abates the ardour of my liver. :
Pro. Well.—
Now come, my Ariel; bring a corollary,‘
father than wanta spirit; appear, and pertly.—
No tongue; all eyes; be silent. [ Soft music.

A Masque. Enter Iris.

Tris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease ;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to keep ;
Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims,

Which spongy April at thy hest® betrims,

‘Yo make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy
broom groves,

Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,

Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard ;

And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard,

1) Where thou thyself dost air: The quee no’ the sky.

Whose watery arch, and messenger, am I, ;

Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign
grace,

Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,

To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain :

Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain,

 

(3) Sprinkling. (4) Surplus, (5) Command,Scene L. TEMPEST, oi

Aw
Enter Ceres, There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Cer. Hail, ms iny-col es ‘dn I that fee on ces Our spell is mart d.
: . -col d messenger, that ne’er
/ris. Younymphs, ci ai ;
Dost dis mc y Ue wile 0 CJupit a xe a 2 Pe _ r oe " si Pw ring
Who, witn toy saflron w nes, upon! lowers aaa
Gea horns ‘iro : is ae Pe lowers With your sede’d crowns, and ever aoe etdon laud
. pS, Fetresning snowers ; Leave your erisp channels,
a ) s gree
And witn eacn end of thy blue bow dost crown Ansy rs , } nes Oh eae
ali bee | iswer your summons; Juno does command :
KY’ acres, and my unshrubb’d down Co
; ome, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate

Rich scarfto my proudearth; Why hath thy queen
Summon’d me hither, to this short-grass'd creen!
fris. A contract of true love to celebrate :

A con tr: ict of true love; be not too late,

pee Ayer sua Realy te eelata ; Enter certain Nymphs.
On the bless’d lovers, You sul -burn’d sicklemen, of August we eary,
Cer, : Tell me, heavenly bow, Come hither from the furrow, and be merry ;
If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know, Make pons ly: your rye-straw hats put on,
Do now attend the queen ? since they did plot \nd these fresh nymphs encounter every one
I'he means, that dusky | is? my daughter got, In country looting
Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d « ompany j
1 have forsworn. Enter certain Reapers, properly habited ; they join
Iris, Of her society cith the Nymphs in a graceful dance ; towards
not afraid ; I met her deily the end whereof Prospero starts suddenly, and
Cultine the clouds towards Paphos ° and he rson Syye ak 3s afler whic h, loa strange, hollow, and
Heveditan With her: here thought they to have| confused noise, the y heavily vanish,
done
Some wanton charm upon this man and maid. P 0, l. lside | I h ad forgot th: it foul conspiracy
Whose vows are, that no bed-rite shal! be paid Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates,
Tull Liymen’s torch be lighted: but in v: in: \cainst my life; the minute of their plot
Mars’ hot minion is return’d in Is almost come.—[ T'o the Spirits, | Well done ;—
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, avoid ;—no more.
Swears he will shoot no more, but play with spar-| Fer. This is most strange: your father’s in some
rows, passion
And be a boy right out, That works him strongly.
(Cer. Highest queen of state, Mira Never till this dav,
Gireat Juno comes; I know her by her enit. Saw | him touch’d with anger so distemper’ d.
| Pro. You do look, my son, in a mov’d sort,
Enter Juno. \s if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir:
Dal Ni tin ale ilies 5 - Our revels now are ended; these our actors,

r? Go with! As] foretold sa ou, were all spirits, and

me Are melted into air, into thin air:

To bless Unis en Lin, thal they may prosperous be, | And , like the baseless fabrie of this vision,

And honour’d in their issue. The c loud -capp’d towers, the gorgeous pal: ices
a
}

} solemn temples, the great globe itsell,

SONG, ea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ;
Juno. Honour. riches. marriare-blessine And, like this een eee pageant faded,* :
Long continuance, and increasine. leave not a rack® behind: We are such stufl
Fourie sous be eM non von! \s dreams are ma de of, and our little life
Juno sinas her bléessines on wou Isr unded with a sleep,—Sir, I am vex’d;
. : Bear with my we makin ss; my) old brain is troubled.
Cer. Farth’s increase, and foizon? plenty: Be not disturb’d with my infirmity ;
Barns, and garners never empty: If you be pleas’d, retire into my cell,
Vines, wilh clust ring bune/ es rrowtne ; And there repose; a turn or two Ll walk,
Plants, with coodly burden bowing ; ~ |To still my beating mind.
Spring come to you, al the farthest, Fer. Mura. We wish your peace.
In the very end of harvest; [Eaeunt.
Scarcity, and want, shall shun you: | Pro, Come with a thought:—I thank you i—
Ceres’ blessine so ts on you. Ariel, come,
Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and Enter Ariel.
Harmonious charmingly: May I be bold
To think these spirits ? | ri. Thy thoughts I cleave to; What's thy
Pro. Spirits, which by mine art pleasure ?
I have from their confines call’d to enact |. Bee’ Spirit,
My present fancies. We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
Fer. Let me live here ever ; | fri. Ay, my commander: when I presented
So rare a wonder’d* father, and a wile, Ceres,
Make this place Paradise. I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear’d

Lest I might anger thee.
Pro, Say again, where didst thou leave these
varlets ? ;
Pro. Sweet now, silence;, fri. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; drinking ?

[Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on
employment,

(1) Woody. (2) Pluto, (3) Abundance. (6) A body of clouds in motion; but it is most
(4) Able to produce such wonders, (5) Vanished, | probable that the author wrote tracksmay not
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a
harmless fairy, has done little better than play ed the
Jack? with us.

Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss ,
which my nose is in great indignation.

Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I
should take a displeasure against you; look you,—

Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster.

Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favour still:

3e patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee to

al

softly,
All’s hush’d as midnight yet.
Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,—
Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in
that, monster, but an infinite loss,
Trin. That’s more to me than my wetting: yet
this is your harmless fairy, monster.

ears for my labour.
Cal. Pr’ythee, my king

Do that good mischief, which may make this islani

Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,

For aye* thy foot-licker.
Ste. Give me thy hand:

thoughts.

Trin. O king Stephano!
Stephano! look, what a wardrobe here is for thee
Cal. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

Trin, O, ho, monster ; we know w
a frippery :'—O king Stephano!

Sle. Put off that gown, Trinculo ;
Ill have that gown.

Trin. Thy grace shall have it.

by this hand

mean,

]
4

Bait. (2) Education. (3) Jack with a lantern
Ever. (5) A shop for sale of old clothes.

ts}

Cal. Pray, you, tread softly, that the blind mole|

Shall hood-wink this mischance: therefore, speak

Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er

, be quiet : Seest thou here,
This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter :

O peer! O worthy|

hat belongs to/ In the lime grove which weather-fends®

Cal. The dropsy drown this fool! what do yor

  

} ;

BH

E Dy TEMPEST. Act V.

7 ‘

. | 4 ;

ml ~ 4 . a ‘ n c . rrae se S ¢ or

2 So full of valour, that they smete the air To doat thus on such luge % ‘ along,

. * . ‘ . f : J 2 . ro a ‘é >awa .

: For breathing in their faces ; beat the eround And do the murdet first ; if he KG i nate (iain

a For kissing of their feet: vet always bending From toc to crown hell fill our skis with pinches ;
} . . ry F . 1 | . > e are ,

| Towards their project: Then I beat my tabor te | Marke us sti cup stuff. + -_ Wiisttenatine dente

| At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their) Ste. Be you quict, monster.—Mistress line, 15 not

cH ears : | this my jerkin? Now js the jerkin under the line:

f | Advance’d their eye-lids, lifted up their noses, Inow, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and

t As they sme usic; so | charm’d their ears rove a bald jerkin. :

I As they melt yt ’ Cat a : he ’ | Trin. Do do: We st il by line and level, an’t

ei That, calf-like, they my lowing follow’d, through |) /rut. a0. steal by :

, | Tooth’d bricrs, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and like your grace. :
thorns, | Ste. I thank thee for that jest; here’s a garment
Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them fort: wit shall not go unre warded, while Tam mane
t LP the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, lof this country: Steal by line and l vel, is an exccl-
. an oe ¢ e . 2% A ; an oon : . 2 ae 4 i ie : . t
There dancing up to the chins, that the foullake {le nt pass | { pate; there’s another Fee nt fort
t (er-stunk their feet. Me Trin. Monster, eet ae put some lime?’ upon your

| ar Pro. This was well done, my bird: |f{tngers, and away with the rest. ;

eB | Thy shape invisible retain thou still: 7 ( al. t will have none on Lt: weshall lose our time,

|i The trumpery in my house, go, bring if hither, }And all be turn d to barnacles, or to apes

eit lor stale,! to catch these thieves. | With fore heads villanous low.

: | Ari. Leo, Ico. [Exit.| Sle. Monster, lay to your fingers ; help to bear

, i t ‘ , a : : a noahesad F ‘me ic ’

ri Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature this away, where my h 2 head of wine is, or I I

| Nurture? can never stick ; ou whom my palms, iturn you out ot my kingdom ; go to, carry this.

| ; | "Fes Ls

i Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ; Prin. And this.

mt And as, with age, his bedy uglhicr grows, Sle. Aye, and this.

§ is j x rs; wu? » the ‘ | ° : . ‘ <2

q so his mind cankers: L will plague them all, 4 noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits,

i. | : ; ae oe fg vi

i Re-enter Ariel loaden with glistering apparel, §C.] in shape of hounds, and hunt them about ; Pros-

a | ‘ : ; Pd | pero and Ariel selling them on.

i Even to roaring: Come, hang thein on this line. |

if Prospero and Aricl remain invisible. Ienter Cali- i ro. Th y; Mountatn, hey! ‘ !

ban, Stephano, and Trinculo ; all wet. ri, Silver! there it goes, Silver

{ ? i. Fur Fury ! aa Tur here! harl

Pro. Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there: hark,

hark !
[Cal. Ste. and Trin. are driven out.
Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps ; and more pinch-spotted make
them,
Than pard,’ or cat o? mountain.
Ari. Hark, they roar,
Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: at this hour
'Lic at my mercy all mine enemies ;
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
‘Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little,
Follow, and do me service. [Exveunt,

} —
}
|
|

| ACT V.

SCENE I.—Before the cell of Prospero. Enter

| Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.
| Pro. Now does my project gather to a head :
My charms crack not; my spirits obey ; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. —How’s the day?
{| fri. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease. :

| Pro.

I did say so,

I do begin to have bloody When first I rais’d the tempest. Say, my spirit,

flow fares the king and his ?
Ari. Confin’d together
1|In the same fashion as you gave in charge ;
| Just as you left them, sir; all prisoners
your cell,
| They cannot budge, till you release. The kine,
\His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted;
|And the remainder mourning over them,
|Brim-full of sorrow, and dismay ; 1 ut chiefly
,| Him you term’d, sir, The rood old wrd Gonzalo;
| His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops

(6) Bird-lime. (7) Leopard,
(8) Defends from bad weather,

.Scene

l.

From eaves ofreeds:!
them,
as it if vou now beheld the m,

your aflections
\ — i become tender.

Pri Dost thou think so, spirit

‘Ari: Mine would, sir, were | human.

Pro. And mine shall.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch of feeling
Of their afflictions: and sh ll not mvself,

One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
Passion as they, be kindlies mov'd th thou art?
hough with their high wrongs I am struck to thy
quick,
Yet vith my nobler reason, Yer unst my fury
Dol part: the rarer action is
In virtue lianin Vengeance: they b ing penitent, |
Che sok drut of my PUrposs doth extend
Not t frown further: Go, release them, Ariel ;
My « is Vil break their sense Ill restore,
And they shall be th mselves,
oir Ill feteh them, sir.
| ail
Pro. Ye clves oj hills, brooks, standing lake
md erove
And! ye, that on thy inds with printless foot
Do chase the ebbine Neptune. and do fly him,
When hi comes bacl you cemy-pupy is, th
By moon-shine do the ereen-s wir ringlets make
Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you, whose pas-
lime
Ix fo make midni -mushroom that rejoice
lo hear the solemn curfew: by ose aid
(Weak masters thoudh ve be | have be-dimm’d
Phe noon-tide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds.
And *twixt the green sea and the ai vault
Set roaring war: to the dread | ¢ thunder
lLiave | given fire, and rifted sau s stout oak
With his own bolt: the strong-bas’d promontory
Have I made shak: . and by the pun
The pine and cedar: graves, at my comunand,
Hlave wak'd their sle pers op’d, and let them
lortn
By my so potent art suf _ I h magic
I here abjure: and, when I} requir’d
Some heavenly music tohich « even now I do,)

their senses, that

To work mine end upon
' , ’ } . (1
Chis airy charm is for, Pil break my stall,

Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,

And, deeper than did « ver plummet sound
: : i sete

I'll drown my book. [Solemn music,

Re-enter Ariel afler him, Alons y wilh a frantic
gesture, ellended by Gonzalo; Sebastian and
Antonio in like manner, altended by Adrian and

They all enter the circle which Pros-
lL: which

Francisco :
pero had made, and there stand charme:
Prospero observing, sp fn y.
colemn air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, thy brains,
Now boil’d within thy skull! There
For you are spell-stopp’d.——
Holy Gonzalo, pemenereere man, a
Mine eves, even sociable to the show of thine,
Fall fe lowly drops.—T he charm dissolves apace
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, rising sens
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.—O my good Gonzalo,
My true preserver, and a loyal sir
To him thou fi slow? st; I will pay thy graces
Home, both in word and deed. Mos t cruelly

cure

useless,

cs

80 their

(1) Thatch. (2) Pity, or tenderness of heart,

  

TEMPEST,

s pluck’d up/Or e’er your pulse twice beat.

tand, |

    
 
 
  
 
  
    
  
    
     
   
       
    
    
    
       
    
    
    
 
    
  
   
 
    
  
      
   
      
   
   
  
   
    
    
     
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  

23

your charm so strongly works} Didst thou, Alons 0, use me and my daughter :

Thy brother was a furthe rer in the act ;—
Thou’rt pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian.—Flesh and
‘lood,

You brother mine, that entertain’d ambition,
L’xpell’d remorse? Pandni ture; who, with Se sbastian,
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, }
Would here have killd your king ; Ido forgive thee,

Unnatural though thou art !—T hei Ir understanding
Bow ins to swell: and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores,

That now he foul and muddy. Not one of them,
hat yet looks on me, or would know me: —Aricl,
etch me the hat and rapier in my cell;
[ Ewit Ariel.
will dis-ease me, and myself present,
s | was sometime Milan: —quickly, spirit ;
, hou shalt ere long be free.

\riel re-enters, singing, and helps to altire

Prospero.

Art. Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip’s bell I lie :

here Tcouchwhen owls do cr Y.
On the bal’s back I do fly,

JIfler summer, merrily :
Merrily, merrily, ” shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bourh,
Pro, Why, that’s my dainty Ariel; I shall miss
thee:
But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so
‘T’o the king’s ship, invisible as thou art:

There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
Under the hatches ; the master, and the ce ilswain,
Being awake, enforce them to this place ;
And presently, I pr’ythee.
4ri. 1 drink the air before me, and return
{Fait Aricl.
All torment, trouble, wonder, andamaze-
ment
Inhabits here: Some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fe: arful country !
Pro. Behold, sir king,
The wrong’d duke of Milan, P rospe ro;
lor more assurance that a living prince
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ;
(nd to thee, and thy company, I bid
\ hearty welcome.
lon. Whe’r* thou beest he, or no,
some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
\s v0 I have been, I not know: thy pulse
Beats, as of flesh and blood ; and, since I saw thee,
The affliction of my mind ame nds, with which,
[ fear, a madness held me: this must crave
(An if this be at all) a most strange story.
Thy dukedom I resign; and do entreat
Thou pardon me my W rongs:—But how should
Prospero
Be living, and be here ?
Pro.
let me embrace thine age ;
Be measur’d, or confin’d.
Cron,
Or be not, [ll not swear.
| Pre. You do yet taste
Some subtleties o’ the isle, that will not let you
‘Believe things certain :—Welcome, my friends
all:
| But you, my be ace of lords, were I so minded,
fe Aside to Seb. and Ante
[ here could pluck his highness’ frown upon you,

' ofr, (3) Whether, ...c(')

Gon.

First, noble friend,
whose honour cannot

Whether this be,liieraeillcicaartsaisaetataeissanaamonara

a

And justify you traitors ; at this inte
Vil tell no tales.
Seb. The devil speaks in him. [Zside,
Pro. INO ;—|
For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother
Would even infect my mouth, i do forgive
Thy rankest fault ; all of them; and require
My dukedom of the e, which, perforce, 1 know,
Thou must restore.
Allon. If thou beest Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation ;

How thou hast met us he re, = » three hours since

Were wreek’d upon this shore ; where i have lost,
How sharp the point ep this remembrance is!
My dear son fe pais ind
Pro. Iam wo! for’t; sir.
Alon. Irreparable is the loss; and Patience
oe it is past her cure.

Ta, I ri ther think
You have not sought her help. - of whose soft grace,
For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid,
And rest myself content,
Allon. You the like loss?
Pro. As great to me, as late; and, portab! :

To make the dear loss, have | means muc:
Than you may call to comfort you; fort
Have lost my daughter.

Allon.
O heavens! that they were livine both in Naples,
The king and queen ‘there! that they were, 1 wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

Where my son lies, When did you lose your

daughter ?
Pro. In this last tempest. I pere eive, these lord
At this ene ounte r do so much admire,

That they devour their reason; and scarce nk
Their eyes do en h, , their vs rds
Are natural breath; but, howsoc’r you have

Been justled from your senses, know for certain,
That I am Prospero, and that very duke
Which was thrust

forth of Milan ;
strangely

Upon this shore, where you were wrec kd, was! fl

landed,
To be the lord on’t. No more yet of this;
For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor
Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;
This cell’s my court: here have I few at
And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in.

My dukedom since you hav > given me again,

I will requite you with as good a thing

At least, bring forth a wonder, to cont nt ye,
‘As much as me my dukedom.

The entrance of the cell dpens, and discovers Ferd

nand and Miranda playing ut chess.
Mira. Sweet lord, you play me false.
: a7
I would not for the world.
Mira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you shou
wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.

Alon. ; If this
A vision of the island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.

Seb. A most high miracle !

. Fer. Though the seas threaten, they
I have curs’d them without cause. —

Allon, Now all the blessings
Of a glad father compass thee about!

(1) Sorry. (2) Bearable,

proy a

|Ferd. kneels to Alon. |

TEMPEST.

|! Arise, and say how thou cam/’st here.

tendants,

- r rr

Yo, my dearest love,

‘are merciful;

  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
   
  
  
    
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
   

Act Vs

 

\ Mira. QO! wonder!

|Llow many goodly creatures are there here !
|How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,

| That has such people ivt!

: Fr, ’Tis new to thee.

| wflon. What is this maid, with whom thou wast
at play ?

Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours :

» the goddess that hath sever’d us,

Ane bi ought us thus together ?

ler. Sir, she’s

But, by immortal Providence, she’s mine ;

| chose her, when I could not ask my father

nor thought I had one: she

ahi
l
mortal ;

ror nis aacvice 5

fs daughter to this famous duke of Milan,
{ whom so often I have heard re nown,
But never saw before; of whom I have
iv’d a second life, and second father
This lady makes him to me.
Alon I am her’s:
Sut O. how oddly will it sound, that I
just ask my child forgiveness !
Pro. There, sir, stop:
Let us not burden our remembrances
’ heaviness that’s gone.
Gon. I have inly wept,
’r should have spoke ere this. Look down, you
rod
And on this couple drop a blessed crown ;

rit is you, that have chalk’d forth the way

vv hie brought us hither !
/llon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo!
Gon. Was Milanthrust from Mil in, that his issue
ld | .e king of Naples? Q, rejoice
id a common joy ind set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage
Di Claril | her husband fi ind at Tunis ;
At a Le aginanl ts } er bro | 10u nd a wile,
Where he himself was vi : ‘P rospero his dukedom,
in a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves,
1no man Vv his own.?
Give me your hands ¢
. {Zo Fer. and Mira,
et grief and sorrow still embrace his heart,
hat doth not wish you joy!
Gon. Be’t so! Amen!
Re-enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswain
amazedly following.

are more of us!

allow s were on land,

t +t drown :—Now, bli isphemy,

| Phat swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oat hon shore?

Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news ?
Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found

Our king and company: the next, our ship,—

Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split,—

Is tight and yare,* and bravely rigg’d as when

We first put out to sea, aeat

2 oe ] a
) ook Sll look Silks here

BE roph ‘Sit ad, if as

his fellow could n

1]. fr. Sir, all this service }
Have la
Kiave i done ce 1 we nt. » [ Aside,
| p
| PPro, My tricksy® spirit !
| wilon. [hese are not natural events; they
strengthen, ‘
Tanwar 4 .
‘From strange to stranger.—Say, how came you
hither ? P

Boats. If I did thi ink, sir, I were well awake,
\l’d strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
And (how, we know not) all clapp’d under hatches
Where, but even now, with strange and sever al
noises ‘ ¥

(3) In his senses. (4) Ready. (5, Clever adroit,Of roaring, shi it kine, howlin Fé
And more diversity ol sounds, all horri
We were awak’d ; straizhtway,
Where we, iti all her trim. frésh

Our royal, good, and gallant

Cap’ring to eve lier: On a tric: :

«

Even in a dream, were we divid
And were brought moping hith
fii. “¥ ist w
Pro. Bravely, my dil renee,

shalt be {r @,

; ‘Tv. * ,
i WR, Phis {8 as Sstranvre amar

:
And there is in this business m
Was ever condtiet! of: some
Must rectify our knowledce.
Pro

Do not infest your mind with b

The strane ness of this
Which shall be short} incl

(Whieh to you shall seem proba
Phese happen’d accidents: till +
And think of éach thine well.—Com

Set Caliban and his com: nion

Untie the spell. [Exit A

There are et mis in r { \

Some few odd lads. tl}

Re-enter Aricl, dririne in (
Trinculo, in {eur

man tak ire |
Coragio, bull v-m< {
Irin. Uf these b ies

head, here’s a good|!,

Cal. Os tebos,
How fine my master is! I am
lie will chastise me.

Seb. H
What thines are these, my |
Will money buy them ?

Aint. Very |

Is a plain fish, and, no doubt,

Pro. Mark but the bad

lords,
Then say, if they be true:*—Thi

His mother was a witch; 1d
That couid control the moon, !
Sa Ni atin aihidia Ti: cael
And deal in her command, wi
These three have robb’d me:

(For he’s a bas

tard one,) had

ah La

(1) Conductor.

TEMPEST,

| \Lust know, and own; this thie of darkness 1

ACKHOWICGYEe Tilney

rchains, | To take my life: two of these fellows you

I shall be pinch’d to death.

r | «tlon, Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?
Uy » £26138 Crunk now: Where had he wine?
L, | «stun. And Prineculo is recling ripe: where should
if

nd hquodr that hath cided them 7—
r @.2,) ; : 2 kilo ?

fea Stile, LU) Lil NOU Th LUIS pickie {
1 have been m such a pickle, since I saw
ntrod:/)you last, that, [fear me, will never out of my t 3:
i tro ; » tiear me, will never out of my boles:
irt L shall not tear fly-blowing.
| seo. Why, how now, Stephano?

VY, touch me not; [am not Stephano, but
‘d be king of the isle, sirrah?

\ been a sore one then.

iT , , en 1s strange a thing as e’er I look’d on.

| Pointtne to Caliban.
fil.| Pro. ' nd in his manners,

irit:|As in! :—Go, sirrah, to my cell;

(4 i. ith u your companions: as you look

trim it handsomely.

ti wil; and Pll be wise hereafter,

\ What a thrice-double ass
i, to tak unkard for a god,

Pro. Goto: away!

-tion. Hence, and bestow your luggage where

let n [Exeunt Cal. Ste. and Trin.
© ci Fro. Dir, T inv: r highness, and your train,
lo |: where you shall take your rest
my it e nicht; which (part of it) Pll waste
Su as, L not doubt, shall make it
of m life,
, gone by,
[i came to sisle: And in the morn,

yi I t to your , and so to Naples,

\\ re I have | to see the nuptial
et r-beloved solemniz’d ;

m jAnd nee retire me to my Milan, where
very third thought shall be my grave.
—— -llon. : I long
To hear the story of your life, which must

. ’
| vi I @ Un I n y.

Pro. I'l) deliver all;
leh) ind promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
rs | And sail so expeditious, that shall catch

i j *

ii-deyi] | Your royal fleet far of.—My Ariel ;—chick,—

: That is thy charee: then to the elements
Be free, and far u well!—[aside] Please you

draw near. [Eweunt,=p y

7 a en
ee S -

fe y,

Sera

Se

 

oe ET eee

EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Prosperc.

NOW my charms are all o’erthrown,
And what strength FT have’s mine own ;
W hich is most faint : now, ’lis lrue,

I must be here confin'd by you,

Or sent to Naples: Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got,
And nardow'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell ;
But release me from my Bats.
With the help of your good hands.'
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fads,
Which was to please: now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ;
‘And my ending is despair,

Unless I be relvev’d by prayer ;

 

TEMPEST.

(1\ Applause: noise was supposed to dissolve a
spell,

  

Which pierces so, that tt assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
—_——

It is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is
regular; this the author of The Revisal thinks,
what I think too, an accidental effect of the story,
not intended or regarded by our author. But,
whatever might be Shakspeare’s intention in form-
ing or adopting the plot, = has made it instrumen-
tal to the production of many characters, diversi-
fied with boundless invention, and preserved with
profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of

 

opinions, and accurate observation of life. In a sin-
lle drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, ana
sailors, all speaking in their real characters. ‘There
lis the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly gob-
‘in; the operations of magic, the tumults of a
‘storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native
‘effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of
‘wuilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom
‘our passions and reasons are equally interested.

JOHNSON,

‘PWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA,

———— es nS

PERSONS REPRESENTED,

Duke of Milan, father to Siuria.

\ lentine, ?

Proteus, (a

Antonio, father lo Proteus

TT turio, a ji olish rival to Val nine,
clamour, arent for Silvia in her escape.

Specd, aclownish servant to Valentin

lLaunee, servant to Protens.

Vanthine, serrant to fut Lio,

Htost, where Julia li res mm Mil lan,

SCENE I,—/n open place in Verona. Enter

‘

‘
( EASE to persuade, my loving Proteus:
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:
Wer’t not, aflection chains thy tender days
To the swe ‘

er] neces of thy honour’d love
| rather would entreat thy company,

To see the wonders of the world abroad,

Than living dully sluggardiz’d at home,

Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But, since thou lov’st, love still, and thrive therein,
Even as I would, when I to love begin.

)

Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine,

adieu !
Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest
Some rare note -worthy object in thy trave i:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,
When thou dost meet good hap; and, in thy dan-
rer,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy griev: ince to my holy prayers,
For I will be ‘thy beads-man, Valentine.
Val. And on ane -book pray for my success.
Pro. Upon some book I isn , Pll pray for thee.
Val. That’s on some shallow story of deep love,
low young Leander cross’d the Hell spont.
Pro. That’s a deep story of a de per love.
For he was more than over shoes in love.
Val, ’Tis true 4 for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never sw am the Hellespont.
Pro. Over the Set nay, give me not the

boo!s,!
Val. No, Pll not, for it boots thee not.
Pro. What?
Val. To be
In love, where scorn is bought with groans; coy
looks,

With heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment’s mirth,
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights:
If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain ;

(1) A humorous punishment at harvest-home |

feasts, &c.

Out-laws,

Julia, a lady of Verona, beloved by Proteus,
Silvia, the duke’s dau: ohter. bcloved by Valentine,
Luci lta, watline F-WOnLanN lo Julia,

Servants, musicians,

secnc, Sometimesin Verona; sometimes in Milan :
and on the frontiers of Mantua.

oeaseasenomnetnnnsanontnanmeecaamline

If lost, why then a grievous labour won ;
Llowe ver, but a folly houe rhit with wit,
Or else a wit by folly v: inquished.
Pro. So, by your cireumstanee, you call me fool.
Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll
prove,
Pro. "Tis love you cavil at; I am not Love.
Val, Love is your master, for he masters you:
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks should not be chronicle ‘d for wise,
Pro. Yet writers Say, As in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inh: its in the finest wits of all.
Val. And writers say, As the most forward bud
Is eate n by the canker ec re it blow,
Even so by ilved the young and tender wit
Is turn’d to folly; blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
sut wherefore waste I time to counsel thee,
That art a votary to fond desire?

Once more adieu: my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp’d.
Pro, And thither will I bring thee, Velntion

Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our
leave.
Milan, let me hear from thee by letters,
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend ;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.
Pro, All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!
Val. As much to youathome! and so, farewell!
[ Exit Valentine.
Pro. He after honour hunts, I hy r love:
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more ;
[ leave myself, my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos’d me;
Made me neglect my steals ‘s, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought ;
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with
thought

Enter Speed.

Speed, Sir Proteus, save you: saw you my
master ?
| Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for
Milan,

  
    
  
   
   
     
   
   
    
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
    
  
 
 
       
   
    
      
  
   
    
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 

ps

[sen een) 0 SRDS ati BORO i ap heY en a ece58 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Act I.
Sneed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp’d already;
And [ have play’d the sheep, in losing him.
Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,

| Speed. Sir, 1 could perceive nothing at all from
her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering
vour letter: and being so hard to me that brought
An if the shepherd be awhile away. your mind, I fear, she’ll prove as hard to you in
Sneed. You conclude that my master is a shep-|telling ner mind. Give her no token but stones ;
herd then, and I a sheep? age hard — reat
Pro. Ido. Pro. What, said she nothing !
Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, wheiher| Speed. No, not so much as—take this for thy
I wake or sleep. ipains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you
Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. have testern’d+ me; in requital whereof, hence-
Speed. This proves me still a sheep. |for th carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, Vil
Pro. True; and thy master a shepherd. jcommend you to my master.
Speed. Nay, that I can deny bya cireumstance.| Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship from
Pro. Itshall go hard, but Vil prove it by anoth r.| wreck ;
Speed. The shepherd secks the sh ep, aud not|Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my mast r,; Being destin’d to a drier death on shore :—
and my master seeks not me: therefore, 1 am no/|i must go send some better messenger ;
sheep. '{ fear, my Julia would not deign my lines,

Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, | Receiving them from such a worthless post,
| Eweunt,

the shepherd for food follows not the snecp ; thot
for wages followest thy master, thy master for Wwa-|

 

ees follows not thee: therefore, thou art @ sheep, (SCENE I1.—The same. Garden of Julia’s
Speed. Such another proof will make me cry| house. Enter Julia and Lucetta.
baa a
° ; fyyl Put cay reat ry ,are ¢ ,
Pro. But dost thou hear? gavy’st thou my letter}, . 1 ] eee Lucetta, now we are alone,
Julia ? \\Vould’st thou then counsel me to fall in love
to Julia ! : : ; hI aha
: WC > maham: AA wou © od.
Speed, Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your let- Aste ; hee so you stumble not unnhec
4 : UuLLy

ter to her, a laced mutton ;! and she, a laced mut- Til. Of all the fai . ]
2 , } Jil 1 all the lair resor renuucme

ton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing tor my labour.|,,° 7" oS a hee 1 of genticmen,

iat every day with parie*® encounter me,

Pro. Here’s too small a pasture tor such a store|; oe :
of muttons in thy opinion, which is worthiest love ?
> uc. Please “One| oir ns a Till « ’
Speed. If the ground be ove rchareed, you were| 4“ Please you, repeat their names, P’ll show
best stick her. ; F . mind buds ,
T Ber cy , ; ,)According t sna rs 1s
Pro. Nay, in that you are astray; ’twere best|**") OOS YO eee simple skill,
pound you | Jul, What think’st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour?
Speed, Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve! ,, Luc. As ol a knight we -spOkeD, neat and fine 5
me for carrying your letter But, were I you, he never should be mine.
; hoe ea a re a cei Meant NM) wy hls Jod. What think’st thou of the rich Mereatio?
Pro. You mistake; I mean the pound, a pin-| |; is ri ;
fold | Lue. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so, so.
. j ‘ j . 4 ms
Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold itoverand| v4 What think’st thou of the gentle Proteus ?
over : | Jue. Lord, lord! to see what folly reigns in us!
Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your) _ ae ! what means this passion at his

Pro. But what said she? did she nod?
| ’ | m4 shame
Speed NOCS. | pn oe ’ ‘
: |That I, unworthy body as I am,

Should censure® thus on lovely gentlemen.

=
prens I ttc P l don ] aur adam : tis assi
sles A ds G ; acal maaam , iS @8 passing
{

Speed. I.

Pro. Nod, 1? why, that’s noddy.? ;
; ,) Salad ; 1) | Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest?
Speed. You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod:| ‘O° mie, t] RC Bie ae a a
and you ask me, if she did nod, and I say, I. | Lue. Then thus,——of many good I think him
Pro. And that set together, is—noddy. np be Bhs
¥ 7 al . Jil x ( PP rpons I
Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it) 7. y Fagg reach F ' ;
together, take it for your pains. baa oe a tee pe ciher but a woman’s reason ;
think him so, because I think him so.

Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the| Po ros ae 7 4%
letter. Jul. And would’st thou have me cast my love
Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear} 7
witha | Lue. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away.
= r . , . rl ‘ } 1p wae a ene ‘ Pp ie »? .
Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me | J te y hj ; h O1 m the rest hath ne vt r mov’d me,
‘ : . - r + ha Fo cx aim ‘ oi Us : oa
Speed. Marty, sir, the letter very orderly ; having} . oe oa” tetas fall Une rest, I think, best loves ye.
nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains. | ye His little speaking shows his love but small.
o a J 2 ‘ uP am ¢ ¢ _n 2 : ° . Pe
Pro. Beshrew* me, but you have a quick wit. | 7)" Hire, that 1s closest kept, burns most of all,
Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow ul, oe donot love, that do not show their love,
purse. : | Lue. : they love least, that let men know their
Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief:} ,,, ONP a i de a
what said she? a . I would, I knew his mind.
~ . ide : 2 .
Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and| Tl To Juli _ Peruse this paper, madam,
the matter, may be both at once delivered. i + oe JUNG, —Say, from whom ?
Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains; what sai eu hat the contents will show.
p Ht ) J ; al Ful. Say. aay
she ? et Say, sa) ; who gave it thee?
* . . -: } ue, Sir ale ‘2 va re i ; il .
Speed. Truly, sir, 1 think you'll hardly win her. | - ry ' “ee we and sent, I think,
T 5 1 = : “ - n 4
ro. Why? could’st thou pereeive so much rom froteus ;
from her ? |Ele wou

ld have given it you, but I, being in the way,
c i
t3} A term for a courtezan, (2) A game at cards, (4) Given me a sixpence, (5) Talk.
3) Ill betide. (6) Pass sentence.

)Scene ITI. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

29
Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I Jul’ This babble shall not heneeforth trouble me,

pray, Here is a coil® with protestation !|—
Jul. Now, by my mode sly, a rood, broker a [Tears the letter,
D: ire you pre sume to harbour wanton lines ? ‘ro, get you gone ; and let the papers lie ;
lo whisper and conspire against my youth ? Lou would be fingering them, to anger me.
Now, trust me, ’tis an office of creat worth, Luc. She makes it Strange ; but she would be
And you an otheer fit for the place, best pleas’d
There, take the paper, see it be return’d . l‘o be so anger’d with another letter. [ Exit.
Or else return no more into my sicht. Jul. Nay, would I were so anger’d with the same!
Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than|O hateful h: inds, to tear such loving words !
hate, injurious was] ps | to feed on such sweet honey,
Jul. Will you be gone? \nd kill the bees that wield it, with your stings!
de, That you may ruminate. | lll kiss each several | aper for amends.
[Exit.| And here is writ-~ebeid Julia ;—unkind Julia !
Jul. And yet, I would I had o’erlook’d the letter. | As in revenge ol thy ingratitud ide,
It were a shame to e all | ner back rain, f OW U y¥y hame arainst t] 1e bruising stones,
And pray her to a fault for which | chid her. lrampline conte iptuously on thy disdain,
What fool is she, that knows I am a mai \, L.0ok, here is writ—love-wounded Proteus :—
And would not force the letter to my view ? oor wounded name! my bosom, asa bed,
Since maids, in modesty, say Vo, to that shall lodge thee, till ihy wound be thoroughly
Which they would have the proflvrer construc. Ty, heal’d
Fie, fie! how wayward is this fi lish love, ~ |And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nu e, But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down ?
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
How churlishly Ichid Lucetta hence. Vill l have found eaca letter in the letter,
When willing ly | would have had r here! Exec pl mine Own name ; that some whirlwind bear
liow angrily 1 taught my brow to irown, Unto a rug? d, {i aie hane ing roc k,
When inward joy enforc’d my heart to smile ! And throw it thence into the r: aging sea!
My penance is, to call Lucetta bac! i Lo, here in one line is his 1 name twice writ, —
And ask remission for my fol] past ;— Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
What ho! Lucetta! ‘ Pe fo the sweet Julia :—that Dll tear away 5
And yet I will nol, sith” so prettily
Re-enter Lucetta. tle couples it to his complaining names:

I fold them one upon another ;

|
aa That uld vour ladyshin ? = .
Luc. What would your ladyship?| Noy KISS, embrace, contend, do what you will,

Jul. Is it near dinner-tim«

Luc. I would it were Re-enter Lucetta.

That you might kill your stomach? on your meat,

And not upon your maid, Luc. Madam, dinner’s ready, and your father
Jul. What is’t you took u; stays.

So gingerly? Jul. Well, let us go,
Luc. : Nothii r. Luc. What, shall the © papers lie like tell-tales
Jul, Why didst thou st Op, then nere |
Luc. To take a paper up t! I let full. Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up.
Jul. And is that paper nothing ? Luc. Nay, i was taken up for laying them down:

Luc. Nothi concerning me. et here they shall not he, for catching cold.
Jul. Then let it lie for those t Lil col . Jul. I see you ve

a month’s mind to them.

 

Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you
Unless it have a false int ") ter, see :
Jul, Some love of yours hath writto youin rhyme. |I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Luc. That I might sing il, madam, to a tune: Jul. Come, cr me, will’t please you go?
Give me a note: your ladyship can - [Exeunt.
Jul. As little by such toy may be possible: | .
Best sing it to the tune of Light o’ love. SCENE IIlL— same. 4 room in Antonio's
Luc. It is too heavy for so licht a tune. hous Antonio and Panthino,
Jul. Heavy? belike it hath ne burd ey 7 .
1 ; Ay: and melodi S were it, wou you /int, | LOPE RONNIE what sad® talk was that,
sing it. Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister ?

Jul. And why not you? Pan. ’T was of his neph \s Proteus, your son,
Luc. ' I cannot ri » hieh Sint, Why, wi “pigment fr
Jul. Let’s see your song :—How now, minion Pun. Fe wonder’d, that your lordship
Luc. Keep tunethere still, so you willsing itout:|W uld sufier him aan cea at home ;

And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. Wlule other men, of slender reputation, ®
Jul, You oe o not? ut forth their sons to s ek preterment out:
Luc. No, idam: it is too sharp. > 1@, Lo the wal , LO try Weir fortune there ;
Jul. Fans minion, are too saucy. : me, to di cover i lands far away ;
Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, Som , to the studious universities,

And mar the concord with too harsh a d nt: l’orany, or for all thi 8e EXCLCIBGS, 3

There wanteth but a mean* to fill your sone. Hi ‘ uid, that Proteus, yeur son, was met
Jul. The mean is drown’d with your unruly ba C. Ane ae RAVORE My  importune erg
Luc. Indeed, | bid the base® for Proteus, l‘o let him spend his time no more at home,
(1) A matehmaker. (2) Passion or obstinacy. (5) A ch vi "er See (7) since,
(3) A term in music, ( 1) The tenor in music, { 5) Perious, \-) ailie conse queneea

 

   
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  

 

a0 wo GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, vict Ih.

Which would be great impeachment! to his age, {Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ’d

Ja having known no travel in his youth. To hasten oh his expedition. — oo

Ant. Nor need’st thou much importune me to [Eweunt Ant. and Pant.
that Pro. Thus have I shunn’d the fire, for fear of

Whereon this month I have been hammering. burning ; :

I] have consider’d well his loss of time ; And drench’d me in the sea, where I am drown’d:

And how he cannot be a perfect man, I fear’d to show my father Julia’s letter,

Not being try’d and tutor’d in the world : Lest he should take exceptions to my love ;

Experience is by industry achiev’d, _ And with the vantage of mine Own excuse

And perfected by the swift course of time : Hath he excepted most against my love.

Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him? |Q, how this spring ol love resembleth
Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant, The uncertain glory of an April day ;
How his companion, youthful Valentine, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
Attends the emperor in his royal court. And by and by a cloud takes all away!
Ant. I know it well. ; ot, lice Bondnlasl
Pant. ’Twere good, I think, your lordship sent ,
him thither :

 

Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you;
There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, | He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go.
Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen; | Pro. Why, this it is! my heart accords thereto ;
And be in eye of every exercise, | And yet a thousand times it answers, no.
Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. |

Int. I like thy counsel ; well hast thou advis’d: |

{Exeunt.

And, that thou may’st perceive how well I like it, | —>—
The execution of it shall make known;

E.ven with the speediest execution | ACT aT
I will despatch him to the emperor’s court.

Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al- SCENE I.—Milan. A apar'ment in the Duke's
phonso, | palace. Enter Valentine anid Speed,
With other gentlemen of good esteem, io re
Are journeying to salute the emperor, | Speed. Sir, your glove.
And to commend their service to his will. | Val, Not mine; my gloves are on. .
Int. Good company : with them shall Proteus go: Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this 1s
And, in good time,—now will we break with him.?|0Ut one. ae
| Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it’s mine :—
‘Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
|

Enter Proteus. sweet 0 ent
Ah Silvia! Silvia !

Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life ! Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia !
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart ; Val. How now, sirrah!
Here is her oath for love, her honour’s pawn: Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves, Val. Whi, sir, who bade you eall her ?
To seal our happiness with their consents ! Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook,
O heavenly Julia! Val. Well, yow Jl still be too forward.
Ant. How now? what letter are you reading} Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being toc
there ? slow. ; ;
Pro, May’t please your lordship, ’tis a word or! Val. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know madam
two Silvia ?
Of commendation sent from Valentine, Speed. She that your worship loves ?
Deliver’d by a friend that came trom him. Val. Why, how know you that I am in love?

 

Ant. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news.! Speed. Marry, by these special marks : First, you
yy > } a <> as
Pro. There is no news, my lord; but that he}have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms

writes \like a male-content; to relish a love-songe, like a
How happily he lives, how well belov’d, |robin-red-breast ; to walk alone, like one that had
And daily graced by the emperor ; ithe pestilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that had
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. lost his A. B. C.; to weep, like a young wench that
Ant, And how stand you aflected to his wish? {had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes
Pro, As one relying on your lordship’s will, | diet ;> to watch, like one that fears robbing: to
And not depending on his friendly wish. Ispeak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.* You
‘nt. My willis something sorted with his wish:|were wont, when you laugh’d, to crow like a cock -
Muse? not that I thus suddenly proceed ; Iwhen you walked, to walk like one of the lions -
For what | will, I will, and there an end. | when you fasted, it was presently after dinner.
I am resolv’d, that thou shalt spend some time 'when you looked sadly, it was for want of money:
With Valentinus in the emperor’s court ; and now you are metamorphos« d with a mistress,
What maintenance he from his friends receives, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you
Like exhibition‘ thou shalt have from me. my master.
‘To-morrow be in readiness to go: ‘Val. Are all these things perceived in me?
Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. Speed. They are all perceived without you
Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided ; Val, Without me? They cannot. A

Please you, deliberate a day or two. Speed. Without you? nay, that’s certain, for
_ Ant. Look, what thou want’st, shall be sent after|without you were so simple, none else would: but

thee: you are so without these follies, that these follies
No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go.— are within you, and shine through you like the
water in a urinal ; that not an eye, that sees you

 

 

{3} Reproach. (2) Break the matter to him.
3) Wonder, (4) Allowance, (5) Under a regimen, (6) AllhallowmasScene f, TWO GENTLEMEN Of VERONA, 4]

; ‘ ;
_ a physician tO comment on your malady, | But fer my duty to your ladyship,
@, Buttell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia?! Si ank y¢ entle servant : ’ti
eee eee ou know my ady | ilvia | ‘il, [thank you, gentle servant : ’tis very clerkly#
. ; you gaze on 80, as she sits at| done,
supper ? |_, Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
al. Hast thou obsery’d that ? even she I mean. ‘For, being ignorant to whom it goes
Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. | writ at random, very doubtfully.

Fal. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her,} Sil, Perchance you think too much e’ so much
and yet know’st her not?

ains ?
- «gh she not er ees sir ? ; Pa No. madam ; so it stead you, I will write,
a, NOt So lair, boy, as well favoured. |Please you ec né i sand ti ; :
Speed. Sin] ue as aan land orm und, a thousand times as much
Fal, What dost thou know ? : | Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel ;
Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well) And yet I will not name it :—and yet I care not i—
favoured. |And yet take this again ;—and yet I thank you -
Val. | mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but| Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

her favour infinite. | Speed, And yet you will; and yet another yet.
Speed. That’s because the one is painted, and ‘ [ Aside.
the other out of all count. Val. What means your ladyship? do you not
Val. How painted? and how out of count? | like it? ; f
Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair,} Sil. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ:
that no man counts of her beauty. | But since unwillingly, take them again :
Val. How esteemest thou me? I account of her|Nay, take them. ~~
beauty. Val, Madam, they are for you.
Speed. You never saw her since she was de-| Sil. Ay, ay; you writ them, sir, at my request ;
formed. Sut I will none of them ; they are for you:
Val. How long hath she been deformed ? |L would have had them writ more movingly.
Speed. Ever since you loved her. | Val, Please you, I’ll write your ladyship another,
Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her, and} Sil. And, when it’s writ, for my sake read it over:
still I see her beautiful. And, if it please you, so; if not, why, so.
Speed, if you love her, you cannot see her. Val. If it please me, madam! what then?
Val. Why? | Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour :
Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had|And so good morrow, servant. | Evit Silvia.
mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were; Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,

wont to have, when you chid at Sir Proteus fur} As a nose on a man’s face, or a weathercock ona

going ungartered ! steeple !
Val. What should I see then ? |My master sucs to her; and she hath taught her
Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing suitor,

deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to| He being her pupil, to beeome her tutor.
garter his hose ; and you, being in love, cannot see! excellent device! was there ever heard a better?

 

to put on your hose. ‘That my master, being scribe, to himself should

Val, Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last| write the letter ?
morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. | Val. Ilow now, sir? what are you reasoning

Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my bed: | with yourself?
thank you, you swinged' me for my love, which Speed. Nay, | was rhyming; ’tis you that have
maxes me the bolder to chide you for yours. the reason,

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. Val. To do what?

Speed. I would you were set; so, your aflection| Speed. ‘To be a spokesman from madam Silvia,
would cease. : | Val. ‘To whom?

Val. Last night she enjoined me to wrile some| Speed. ‘To yourself: why, she wooes you by a
lines to one she loves. figure,

Speed. And have you? | Val, What figure ?

Val. | have. | Speed. By a letter, I should say.

Speed. Are they not lamely writ ? Val. Why, she hath not writ to me.

Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :—| Speed, What need she, when she hath made you
Peace, here she comes. | write to yourself! Why, do you not perceive the

jest §
Enter Silvia. | Val. No, believe me.
: : | Speed, No believing you indeed, sir; but did

Speed. O excellent motion !? O exceeding PUP-| vou perceive her earnest ?
pet! now will he interpret to her. | Val, She gave me none, except an angry word,

Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good! gyppd. Why, she hath given you a letter.
morrows, oo Val. That’s the letter I writ to her friend

Speed. O, ’give you good even! here’s a million Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and
of manners. [dside. there an end.*

Si. Sir Valentine and servant, to youtwo thou-| yay, | would, it were no worse.
sand. Speed. Vil warrant you, ’tis as well:

Speed. He should give her interest; and she
gives it him, For often you have writ to her; and she, in

Val. As you enjoin’d me, I have writ your letter, modestly,
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ; Or else for want of idle time, could not again
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, reply,

‘hippe 2) A puppet-show.
+3) Pe ee ae (7) & pap| '4) There’s the conclusion

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32 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Or fearing else some messenger, that might her
mind discover, is

Herself hath taught her love himself to write
unto her lover.—

All this I speak in print; for in print I found it.—
Why muse you, sir? ’tis dinner-time.

Val. I have dined.

Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the came-
leon, Love, can feed on the air, I am one that am
nourished by my victuals, and would fain have
meat: O, be not like your mistress; be moved, be
moved, [Exewnt.

SCENE II.—Verona. room in Julia’s house.

Enier Proteus and Julia.

Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. I must, where is no remedy.
Pro, When possibly I can, 1 will return,
Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner;
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia’s sake.
[Giving a ring.
Pro. Why then we’ll make exchange; here,
take you this.
Jw. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ;
And when that hour o’er-slips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love’s forgetfulness !
My father stays my coming; answer not;
The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears ;
That tide will stay me longer than I should ;
{Hevit Julia,
Julia, farewell.—What! gone without a word /
Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak ;
For truth hath better deeds, th

’ 7 *
A / Danthinys
Enter Panthino.

Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid fay,
Pro. Go; I come, | come :—
Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

Al street, Enter

SCENE U1.—The Sanre.

Launce, leading a dog.

Launce, Nay, ’twill be this hour ere I have done
weeping; all the kind! of the Launces have this

very fault: Ihave received my proportion, like the
prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus t
the Imperial’s court.
sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping
ing, Our cat wringing her hands, and all our hous¢
in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-heartec
cur shed one tear: he is a stone,
stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog:
Jew would have wept to have seen our partins
why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, we)
herself blind at my parting. Nay, VU show yor

the manner of it: This shoe is my father ;—no, this
left shoe is my father ;—no, no, this left shoe is my | Thr.

mother; nay, that cannot be so neither ;—ycs, it i
so, it is so: it hath the worser sole: this shoe, wi
the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father:

vengeance on’t! there ’tis: now, sir, this staffis m
sister ; for, look you, she is as whiteasa lily, anda

) Ooriele 4 . n “+ 4
in words, to grace it.

I, ns »- |
Leet CUlee,

J think, Crab MY Co} be the}

skew Thru

my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howl-! pas
a very pebble-
a

with

|
)
\

   
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
      
   
 
  
   
  
  
  

Act li.

 

so. Now comeltomy 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 to my mother, (O, 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
moan she makes: now the dog all this while sheds
not a tear, nor speaks a word ; but see how I lay
the dust with my tears.

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,
lass; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.
| Lawn, It is no matter if the ty’d were lost; for it
lis the unkindest ty’d that ever any man ty’d.
| Pan. What’s the unkindest tide ?
| Laun. Why, he that’s ty’d here ; Crab, my dog.
| Pan. Tut, man, I mean thoul’t lose the flood ;
land, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage ; and, in

losing thy voyage lose thy master; and, in losing
‘thy master, lose thy service; and, in losing thy
lservice,~-Why dost thou stop my mouth!

un, For fear thou should’st lose thy tongue,
an. Where should I lose my tongue?

jun. In thy tale.

an. In thy tail?

m. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the
‘r, and the service? The tide!—why, man,
i river were dry, I am able to fill it with my
tears; If the wind were down, I could drive the
bg

 

my
ait
al

]
J
| 7
=.
@

boat with my sighs.

| Pan, Come, come away, man; I was sent to
ieall thee

| Jaun. Sir, call me what thou darest.

QP Wilt tho
| Pan. Wilt thou go?

| Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt.
ISCENE IV.—WMilan.
Duke’s palace.
ri

“In apartment in the
Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thu-
, and Speed,

| Si. Servant—

Val, Mistress?

| Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it’s for love. :
Speed, Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress then.

| Speed. ’T were good, you knocked him.
Si. Servant, you are sad.3

Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Seem you that you are not?
Haply,* I do. ©

>| Thu. So do counterfeits.

li Val.

So ado Vou.
Miu. What seem I, that I am not ?
Val. Wise,
ry ‘ 4: ‘
"hu, What instance of the contrary ?
| Val, Your folly.
\) Thu. And how quote’ you my folly ?
| Val, 1 quote it in your jerkin,

|

: My jerkin is a doublet.
Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.

1} )

S

Phu. How

Siu, What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change
colour ? ; ;
ae? oie 4
S| } al. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of

small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: | amiicéimeloon.

the dog:—no, the dog is himself, and I am the}
dog.—O, the dog is me, and J am myself; ay, so,|than liv

(1) Kindred, (2) Crazy, distracted,

hu, That hath more mind to feed on your blead
ein your uy, ; '
(3) Serious,

(4) Perhaps, (5) Observe,TWO GENTLE

7 ah it wile sir

Af ite volle y olf words

Sil, Who is that, servant

i shall ‘eak your wi!

th if Lire} live by yo ir |

What say you to a

With all cood grac
He is as worthy

W ith’ comme nc

Silvia, 1 speak t to you

Vil send him Nither t to you
, This is the gentleman,
Had come along with me, is
Did hold his eyes lock + mn her ery sot looks.

   
   
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
       
   
   
 
    
    
   
   
   
 

MEN OF VERONA, 83

Su. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis’d
them
uit pon some other pawn for fealty. 7
Val. Nay sure, I think, she holds them priso-
- ners Stu.
Su. Nay, then he should be blind ; and, being
blind,
tiow could he see his way to seek out you ?
Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes,
Lku. They say, that love hath not an eye at all,
Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself;

n a homely object love can wink.

Ae ‘* Prof a
£U7UC€) rOveCus,

bat tone, have done ; here comes the
i@man.

Welcome, dear Proteus '—Mistress, I be-
ech You,
n welec with some special favour.
Llis w arrant for his welcome hither,
be he vou oft have wish’d 4 to hear from.
} lj » iLis: sweet lady, entertain him
“Servant to your la \dyship.
; (00 low a mistress for so high a serv ant.
r SO, siveet lady; but too mean a servant
uch a worthy mistress,
j of disability :—
in him for your servant.
will I boast of, nothing else.
ind duly never yet did want his meed ;
welcome to a worthless mistress.
Pre. Pil die on him that s ays so, but yourself.
‘I 6 JOU are welco me
Pro. No; that you are worthless,
Enter Servant.
\ 1, my lord your father would speak
Pil wait 1 his pleasure. [Ezit Servant.
Come, Sir Thurio,
re, new servant, welcome -
1 to Oi home aflairs :
look to hear from you.
Pro. Weil both nd upon your ladyship,

ilvia, Thurio, and Speed.
al. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you

»
“

!, and have them much

I left them all in health.

Val. U ‘oes yourlady? and how thrives your
Pro, My tal ae were wont to weary you }
[ know, you joy n . love-discourse,
Val. Ay, Proteus, a that life is alter’d now:
| have done penance for contemning love ;
\Vhose high imperious thoughts have punish’ d me
\With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ;
lor, in revenge of my contempt of love
Love hath chas’d I sh ep from my enthralled eves,
made them watchers of mine own heart’s ser.
row.
O, gentle Proteus, love’s a mighty lord ;

And hath so | jambied mda I confess,

Phere is no wo to his correc tion,

Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!

Now, no discourse, except it be of Tove :

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, an sleep,
|Upon the very naked name of fove.

| Pro, Enough; Tread your fortune in yqur eye? iSE Ra OR

a oe

 

 

Said
Tae

 

 

%4 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Was this the Idol thaé yu Worship 607 ae
Val, Even she; and is she notaheavehly 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. _ ye
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.
al. Sweet, except not any ;

Except thou wilt except against my love.

Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own ?
Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too:

She shall be dignified with this high honour,—

To bear my lady’s train: lest the base earth

Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,

And, of so great a favour growing proud,

Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower,

And make rough winter everlasting.

Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this ?

Val, Pardon me, Proteus: all [ can, is nothing|

To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing;
She is alone,
Pro. Then let her alone.
Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine
own ;
And [ as rich in having such a jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes,
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along; and I must after,
For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.
Pro. But she loves you?
Val, Ay, and we are betroth’d ;
Nay, more, our marriage hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determin’d of: how I must climb her window ;
The ladder made of cords; and all the means
Plotted; and ’greed on, for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
Pro. Go on before ; I shall inquire you forth:
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use ;
And then Pll presently attend you.
Val. Will you make haste ?”
Pro. I will.—
Even as one heat another heat expels,
Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my former love
fs bya newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine eye, or Valentinus? praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
hat makes me, reasonless, to reason thus?
She’s fair ; and so is Julia, that I love ;—
Mhat I did love, for now my love is thaw’d ;
Which, like a waxen image ’gainst a lire,
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold ;
And that I love him not, as I was wont:
0! but I love his lady too, too much :
And that’s the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice, !
That thus without advice begin to love her !

[Exit Val.

(1) On further knowledge,

   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
  

Act Lf.

T's but her picture 1 have yet beheld,

And that hath dazzled my reason’s light ;

But when I look on her perfections,

There is no reason but I shall be blind,

If f can check my erring love, I will;

If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. [ Extt.

 

SCENE V.—The same. 1 street. Enter Speed
and Launce.

Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome tw
Milan.

Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I
‘am not welcome. I reckon this always—that a man
is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never wel-
come to a place, till some certain shot be paid, and
the hostess say, welcome.

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, Vil to the ale-
house with you presently; where for one shot of
lfive 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. Howthen? 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
jthem ?
| Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with

 

him, it stands well with her.
| Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand thee
not,
| Lain. What a block art thou, that thou canst
jnot! My staff understands me.

Speed, What thou say’st?

Laun. Ay, and what I do too: look thee, Vl
butdean, and my staff understands me.

Speed, It stands under thee, indeed.

Lam. Why, stand under and understand 4s all
One,

Speed. But tell me true, will’t be a match?

Laun. Ask my doe: if he say, ay, it will ; i he
say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say no-
thing, it will.

Speed. ‘The conclusion is then, that ft will.

Lam. Thou shalt never get such a seeret from
me, but by a parable.

Speed. "Tis well that I get itso. But, Launce,
how say’st thou, that my master is become a nota-

ible lover ?

Laun. I never knew him otherwise.

mpeed, Than how ? *

Lau. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him
to be.

Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest

me,

Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant
thy master.

Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot
lover. :

Lain. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he
burn himself m love. If thou wilt go with me to the
ale-house, so; if not, thou art a Hebrew a Jew
and not worth the name of a Christian. ' 1

Speed. Why?

Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity in
thee, as to go to the ale-house with a Christian :
Wilt thou go?

 

Speed, At thy service, iExeunt,

Sen 6 te cate (Pe OTS lei Oe eee‘T * ‘T Qpe "MAa4e - ry > ‘ sae
rWO GENTLEMEN OF VERGNA, 5
B5
r r ‘ j . 1
rh ter i} L.li¢, I do hor Roek ) Ane ; ‘ ia) . a
SCENE Vi fhe $ainé. An aparl nt in the RB nlify a oie ro quenen yout love 8 hot lir'e ;
od ities ut qualify the fire’s extreme rage
PUice, yuder ‘oteus = ¥ ; - ADL,
rroteu os should burn above the bounds of feuson,
ee : ‘ Jul. The ‘we a ‘ :
. Pro, lo leave my Julia, shall I he forsworn ( sas More thou dam’st* it up, the more it
La love fuir Silvia, shall l be forswern: T AER 5 ‘ —
- . vy on ‘ ne | “) + : , rr . os .
lo wrony my friend, I shall be much forsworn - Th, ( ak oa wilh gentle murmur glides,
‘ven LU hte ambien! ; iou iy r inne om o teeall
And even that power, which gave me first my oath ou know st, being stopp d, impatiently doth
Provokes me to this threefold perjury. ; But rage 5 ie :
Kove bade me swear, and love bids mec forsw< ar: He : i n Aus tauy eur ey is not hindered,
nem . : <a is eP he - © vais ea e,4
~ Swect-suggesting' love, if thou hast sinn’d. { makes sweet music with the enamell’d stones,
Peach me » thy tempted subject, to exc c it lving a gentle kiss to every sedge
s y i J by LU LOCUS . > wit « . : ° ° : 5
AS Beat.) did pons Wd imink ling ats, He overtaketh in his pilgrimage :
But now [ worship a celestial pun. foe - many winding nooks le strays,
Unheedful vows may hecdfully be brok - a - ling sport, to the wild ocean.
And he wants wit, that wants resolved v ill PH be cl me go, and hinder not my course:
lo learn his wit to exchaner the bead. fir hotter... + De a patient as a gentle stream,
I Cc. ik , unrevere na tongur i to ec: l] he r h vi r i 7 a pustume ol each weary step,
. vuad, 1p ) ip s . 7
Wh SC SOVErcignly so oil tf 1 hast prefe) *d ec th an 1: P have brought me to my love 5
~ a \ ila | icri ne here ’ “a ae atitor . 2 -
With twenty thousand soul-confirmine oaths ma there Pil re st, as, after much turmoil,®
| cannot leave to lov: and yet T do: r CSS¢ d soul doth Ml Elysium.
But the ri l le Ave lO lovs where | sil yuld ] rv i] I ae oy wast habit will you go along ?
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose The loo ot like a woman ; for I would prevent
if ] keen the Mm [ nee de mus my ie rit oose Encounters ol lascivious men:
; i 9 i titi Us nyvs i : . 2a ‘ > .
It I lose them, thus find [ by their loss reutle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
For Valentine. mysclf- for Yul S413 “> Lj beseem some well-reputed page,
I to myself am dearer than a friend: — : ny a your ladyship must cut your
For love is sull more precious in itself: ' ] } ee a ‘| Pil k eai:0 : ° °
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! am 0, girl; Pil knitit up in silken strings,
. : ; ‘ bit «sill ’ wie , ‘se st e r ,
Shows Julia but 2 swarthy Ethion 7 7. twe nty odd-conccited true-love knots:
I will forget that Julia is alive, Of orester tne ee en a ene
Rtememb'ring that my love to her is dead ‘be aw ume than I shall show to be.
: i ! bint i ’ vi il s CPt * : , Ls
} s} : . "3 Hic, \ ha iLSnio . eh: alr »
ak Viele Eira ec cee | h ut a hion, madam, shall I make your
Auning at Silvia 5a sweeter friend Jul That Ate’'o 1] ¢
; ts Jiu, na $ as Well. as—‘ ta »
I cannot now prove constant to myself lord le wo oe tell me, good my
Without some treachery used to Valenti an
os ull rit | l cr Listi] LO wentine -~— he “rT a : . Bp see - . ‘
This night he meaneth with a corded ladd yy hat compass will you wear your farthingale 2?
; ncaneLn wilh a rae ace " ; ;
m, W021. os ead es : Why, even that fashion thou best lik’st Lueetta
fo climb celestial SHVIA'S Chamber-window : Lue \ { ie a
Vivself in counsel, his « Ompetitor :* ’ ~—e ou must needs have them with a cod:
Now present! iil ive | or fa s piece, madam.
VOW presencis C Hel itner notice ” . ’ : ° .
(ii they dis Liisiti rricl pretenied {lj lit ‘ ‘ vat, ons Iucetta : that will be ill-favour’d,
: ‘ my theAka PTE ti i} il | iv . ry : ‘
Wha Wil divaad Gh ie uok Vo lestee ac, A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a
¥ HO, , Vall LEC 5 mn
For Thurio, he intend hall wed his d hter | ae
Bul \ il pLarne 1) tri? 7 I'l] lil | | cy . _ i ° 7 cod-pic - to slic Ik pins on.
. ‘ sti ; ‘ il t i. ‘ iC KTS Tc if °° . ?
ie yme aly t kt bi as Ves deel }* Jul, Lucetta, as thou loy’st me, let me have
>) rhe y (rick, OUD hurio’s dull procecadimn Why t thou think’: ; : ;
a. we ot Mleedacte ig | hat thor unk’st meet, and Is most mannerly :
UTC," ! YINES LO MARC NY Purpose will 7 tyes) ] , ne : wos
ste Ngee Long ena te 7 my pury me if) But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me,
ly Mast lent me wit to plot this drif [/2vtt.| ior undertaking so unstaid a journey
{ fear me, it will make » scundaliz?
wee . \ ake me scaundaliz’d
SCF VJ VII Verona 7 roe » | ; ’ : ‘ d .
_ re + i Li | Lue. If you think so, then slay al home, and ro
tol uler Ju and Lucetta, | not,
Jul. Nay, that I
. Jul. Nay . will not.
Jul. ( ons l, Luce {ta cre nile ii i. : i it me Ta ch | _ .
; aie. Then n - dre '
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee. Mo. ne ever dream on infamy, but go.
Wits est, tha tale etd 6 dee thee ‘ = 2 Journey, when you come,
Are visibly character’d and enerav'd O matter W 10's displeas’d, when you are gone .
Tol mon ind telly som l mean [icar me, he will searce he pleas d withal.
i “sas rit LTT ft iit Uilli M ryyi .
cn ; sy | Jul. That is the least sucell; ear:
Jlow, with my honour, [ may undertake | ‘a nT er ae
: ; ; nou ae (A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
our 0 } uvinie’ iv ls, j . . a.
journey my sovin vs And instances as infinite of love
Duc, Alas! the way is wearisome and lone. Warrant me weleo { p if
j ‘ ‘ . { . F - ay ~
Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary : oe
‘To measure kinedoms with his feeble SLEDS ; fate. All these are servants to deceitful men
Vluch less eh ill she, th il h ith love SW Ine Lo fly Jul, Base men, that use ihnem to so base eflect!
And when the flieht is made to one so dear, But truer stars did govern Proteus? birth ;
Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. ‘lis words are bonds, his oaths are oracles
Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. | His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate -
, | | 7 . :
Jil, , KNOWS 1Ou NOL, hil OOKS “re my SOUL'S iS LOaPS, pure mecsscneers Sent tron S heart 3
ful. O,1 y’st tl t look I's} His tear tf 1 his hear
° ° . ,
food } | His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth,
: . . : Dns
Pity the de arth that ! have pined in, | Luc. Pray ur aven, he prove so, when you come
By loneing tor that food so long a time. to him!
Didst thou but know the inty touch of love, Jil. Now, as thou lov’st me, do him not that
Thou would’st as soon go kindle fire with snow, | wrong,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
|
(1) Tempting, (2) Confederate, (3) Inte nded, | (4) Closest, (5) Trouble,ES SS TST a

7a

Fae

rey co sini < aia

e
Saar RE

 

 

es

~rlen Ae eee

36 TWU GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. Act 11.
Only deserve my love, by loving him ; Enter Valentine.
And presently go with me to my chamber ee
To take a hte of what I stand in need of, Duke, Sir Valentine, whither away so fast?
To furnish me upon my longing’ journey. Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
My goods, my lands, my reputation ; And | am going to deliver them
Only in lieu thereof, despatch me hence: Duke. Be they of much import?
Come, answer not, but to it presently ; Val, 'The tenor of them doth but signify
I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt.|My health, and happy being at your court. |
Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me
teksten awhile ;
, >.
I am to break with thee of some affairs,

 

ACT Ill | That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
; Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought

| ** . ryt .
'T’o match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter

Py iY HP ft Aa z } 14. | : J ’ ; ) ort °
SCENE I.—Milan. An anti-room in the Duke’s|” pq | know it well, my lord; ahd, sire, the

palace. Enter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus. | nateh
hii ..._|Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle-
Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile ; | iat P . e
r J , dihiedic ; at 3 aes Me aa ‘sa5
We have some secrets to confer about, iIs full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities

Tp a ’ os =
P tintis ¥ a et Beseeming such a wife as your fair daugliter:
Now, tell me, Ret a 1at’s v hich I vibe id d *|Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ?
Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis-) “ 7),¢° No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, fro-

cover, na 4 ' ward,
The law taal ta satan me.to cone : __ |Proud, disobedient, stubborn. lacking duty ;
But, when [ call to mind your gracious favours | Neither regarding that she is my child,

Done to me, undeserving as I am,

My duty pricks me on to utter that

Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter ;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.

I know you have determin’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, [rather chose

To cross my friend in his intended drift,

Than, by concealing it, heap on your head

A pack of sorrows, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless graye.

Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care ;
W hich to requite, command me while I live. Besides, the fashion of the time is chang’d :)
rhis love of theirs myself have often seen, How, and which way I may beat Bd
Haply, when they have judved me fast asleep : Bh) ces eek te eee ae sell,

‘And oftentines have purpos’d to forbid P 5 ‘To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
> « , . i } ; +} ,¢ oifte if'c s sin ee -
Sit Valentine her company, and my court : ra). Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ;

But, Marina st way. iealGus din? nicht Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
ul, Learing lest My. Jealous alm- might err, More than quick words, do move a woman’s mind.

|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 ;
jAnd, where I thought the remnant of mine age
| Should have been cherish’d by her child-like duty,
(I now ain full resolv’d to take a wife,
‘And turn her out to who will take her in:
| Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower ;

‘or 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 aged eloquence:

Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor
(lor long agone I have forgot to court:

And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, Duke. But s) Re se:
; uke. But she did scorn a present th:
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn’d,) bi ] nt that I sent
gave him gentle looks: thereby ier, é
] Fave | u tle ] AS 5 her | j to find J al. A woman sometimes scorns what best eon

That which thyself hast now disclos’d to me.
And, that thou may’st perceive my fear of this,
peices tender youth is soon suggested,? lor scorn at first makes after-love the inore
1 nightly odge her in an upper tower, [f she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you
Che key whereof myself have ever kept ; But rather to beget more love in you:
: _ ati g re 10ve uu:
, ( ; “Pp 5 age ec row?) . re , . *% : . .
And thence she cannot be convey’d away. If she do chide, ’tis not to have you wone -
. . ,

Da ya , «7 t= i 7. ‘ : . “” *
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis’d a!For why, the fools are mad, if left alone

tents her.
Send her another; never give her o’er :

mean ' ‘Take no repulse, whatever she doth say -
How he her chamber-window will ascend, lor, get you gone, she doth not mean away
And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces
. “Be ge i 7. 1- r te" o ivy ? + ’ a Tk ;
For which the youthful lover now is‘gone, hough ne’er so black, say, they have angels’ faces.

a comes he with it presently ; | That man that hath a tongue, [ say, is no man
rere, Mit please you, you may intercept him. {If with his tongue he cannot win a woman,

But, good my lord, do it so cunningly, | Duke. But she, I mean, is promis’d by her
That my discovery be not aimed? at : friends ’
Yor love of you, not hate unto my friend, | Unto a youthful gentleman of worth :

Hath made me publisher of tltis pretence.’ And kept severely from resort of me
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know/That no man hath access by day ta We
That I had any light from thee of this. | Val. Why then I would Seat to fase hy hi
Pro, Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming. | Duke. Aye, but the doors be lock'd q a
[ Exit, kept safe, ee oh aye

(1) Longed for; (2) Guess, (3) Tempted, | (4) Guessed,

(5) Design,Scene I. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, 37

That no man hath recourse to her by night. | Val. And why not death, rather than living
Val. What | ts,' but one may enter at her win- torment !
dow ? To die, is to be banish’d from my self,

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground ;| And Silvia is myself: banish’d from her,

And built so shelving that one cannot climb it Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
Without apparent hazard of his life. What light is lis vht, if Silvia be not seen ?
Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of Wha joy is Joy, if Silvia be not by?

cords, Unless it be to think that she is by,
To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Would serve to seale another Hero’s tower, l’xcept I be by Silvia in the night,
So bold Leander wor ‘ld adventure it. There a no musie in the nighting rale ;
Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, | Unless I lox Ns on Silvia in the day,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder. There is no day for me to look upon :
Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me/he is my essence ; and I leave to be,
that. P o If I be not by her fair influence
Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, |Foster’d, illumin’d, cherish’ d, kept alive.
That longs for every thing that he can come by. _ |! fly not di ath, to fly his de eadly doom:

ry

Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Parry I here, I but attend on death ;
Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone But, fly I he nee, I fly away from life.
low shall I best convey the ladder thither

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may) Enter Proteus and Launce,

bear it
Under a cloak, that is of any lenath. Pro. Run » boy, run, run, and seek him out.
; ; ! */ !
Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the aeRO Te s0-ho!
turn ? Pro. What seest thou?
Val. Av. my cood lord. Laur. Him we go to find; there’s not a hair
Duke. — Then let me see thy cloak: /0n’s head, but ’tis a Valentine.
*) ‘ . : as : ——" ry rlentine ?
I'll set me one of such another length. Pro. Valentine :
Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my Vat. No. a -
loon Pro. Who then? his,spirit 7
= » os J Tatther
Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak ?— Mog Neith he
| pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. Pro. Wy bat the n
What Ictter is this same? What's here—To Silvia? Val. NOLINE, ; sae a
And here an engine fit for my proceeding! Lam. Can nothing speak? master, shall I strike 7

1 ; : "y . Vy hye y vor Ye -trilce
ru be so bold to bre ik the seal for once. [ ire ids. Pro. ee would’st thou strike ?
Nothing,

Laun, |
Pro. Villain, forbear
I

My thoughts do harbour with my Si Ole 1 ntly ; aun, Why, sir, Pll strike nothing: I pray
“Ind slaves they are to me, that send them flying : vou.— ‘
O, could their master come and go as! rity, Pro, Sirrah, I say, forbear; friend Valentine, a
Himself wouul lodge, where senseless they are word. '
ry Val. My ears are stopp’d, and cannot hear
My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, sood news
While I, thetr king, that hither them imp rfunes'So much of bad ; in ady hath possess’d them.
Do curse the grace thal wuh such grace halt) Pro Then in dish silence will I bury mine,
bless'd them : For they are harsh, untunable, and bad,
Because myself do want my servants’ fortime:| Wal Ys Silvia dead?
I curse myself, for they are sent by me, . »,| Pro. No, Valentine
That they should harbour where their lord shou Val, No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia !—
be. Hath she forsworn me?
What’s here ? : : 2 Pro. No, Valentine.
Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee : Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn
me —
’Tis so: and here’s the ladder for the purpose.— | What is your news? }
Why, Phaéton (for thou art Merops’ son, ) | DLaun. Sir, there’s a proclamation that you are
Wilt thou aspire to guide the he ay nly car, vanish’d.
And with thy daring folly burn the world? | Pro. That thou art banish’d, 0, that’s the
Wilt thou reach stars, because they one pn ey news;
Go, base intruler! overweening sla From hence, from Silyia, and from me thy friend.
Bestow th iy fawning smiles on eq! ual mate S5 | Val. O, I have fed upon this wo already,
And think, my p \tience, more than thy desert, (nd now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Is privilege for thy de partur hence : : Doth Silvia know that I am bantsh’d ?
Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer’d to the doom
Which, all too much, I have bestow’d on thee. (Which, unreve ors’d, stands in effectual foree)
But if thou linger in my territorics, \ sca of melting pearl, which some call tears :
J.onger than swiftest expedition Those at her father’s churlish feet she tender’d ;
Will give thee time to u ive our royal court, With them, upon her knees, her humble self ;
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself. them,
Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse, : As if but now they waxed pale for wo
But, as thou loy’st thy life, make speed from) But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
hence, | Exit Duke.|Saq sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,

Could pe netrate her uncompassionate sire ;
(1) Hinders | But Valentine, if he be ta’en, must die,ee
as

 

 

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TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, Act U1.

this proves, that. thou canst not read.

38

Besides, her intercession chaf’d him so, \grandmother :

When she for thy repeal was supplant, Speed. Come, fool, come : try me in thy paper.
That to close prison he commanded her, Laun. There; aid Saint Nicholas? be thy
With many bitter threats of ?biding there. speed !
Val. No more; unless the next word that thou} Speed. Item, She brews good ale.
Laun. And thereof comes the proverb,—Bless-

speak’st,
Have some malignant power upon my hfe:
If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine car,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.'
Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not

ing of your heart, you brew good ale.
Speed. Item, She can sew.
Lau. That’s as much as to say, Can she so?
Speed. Item, She can knit.
Laun. What need a man care for a stock with
a wench, when she can knit him a stock ?
Speed. Item, She can wash and scour,
Laun. A special virtue ; for then she need not
washed and scoured.
Speed. Item, She can spin,
Laun. Then may I set the world on wheels
when she ean spin for her living.
Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues
| Laun. That’s as much as to say, bastard virtues ;
ithat, indeed, know not their fathers, and therctore

help,
And study help for that which thou lamentst.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
[ere if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love ;
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. be
Tope is a lover’s staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence ;
Which, being writ to me, shall be d ‘liver’d
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate:

 

Come, Vl convey thee through the city-gate ; \have no names.
And, ere 1 part with thee, confer at large | Speed. Here follow her vices.
Of all that may concern thy love-affairs : | Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.
| Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, in

As thou lov’st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.
Val. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my|

respect of her breath.
Lau. Well, that fault may be mended with a

boy, ‘breakfast: read on.
Bid him make haste, and meet me atthe north gate.| Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth.
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. | Laun. That makes amends for her sour breath.
Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine ! | Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.
[ Exeunt Valentine and Proteus. | Laun. It’s no matter for that, so she sleep not in

Lam. Tam but a fool, look you; and yet I have/her talk.
the wit to think, my master is a kind of knave :| Speed. Item, She is slow in words.
but that’s all one, if he be but one knave. le! Laun. O villain, that set this down among her
lives not now, that knows me to be in love: yet I}vices! To be slow in words, is a woman’s only
am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck| virtue: I pray thee, out with’t; and place it for
that from me; nor who ’tis I love, ahd yet ‘tis ajher chief virtue.
woman: but that woman, I will not tell myself;| Speed, Item, She is proud,
and yet ’tis a milk-maid: yet ’lis not a maid, for! Daun. Out with that too; it was Eve’s legacy
she hath had gossips: yet ’tis a maid, for she is herjand cannot be ta’en from her, *
master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath Speed. Item, She hath no teeth,
more qualities than a water-spaniel,—which is} Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love
much in a bare Christian. Here is the cat-log|crusts.
{ pulling owt a paper} of her conditions. Imprimis,} Speed. Item, She is curst,
She can fetch and carry. Why, a horse can do} Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth to
no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only car-| bite.
ry; therefore, is she better than a jade. Item,| Speed. Item, She will often praise her liquor
She can milk; look you, a sweet virtue ia a maid | Laun. If her liquor ane she shall r if she
with clean hands. will not, I will; for good things should be praised,
| Speed. Item, She ts loo liberal.?
Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that’s writ
|down she is slow of: of her purse she shall not ; for
Speed. How now, Signior Launce ? what news|." ‘ ae shut new, ate thing she may,
1 , . mM 1 | ‘ . , oceet
with your mastership ? |" ‘" 3 1 ee p. + ell, proceed,
Laun. With my master’s ship? why, it is at sea.| mort vat Is "ot : ‘ ain more hair than wit, and
Speed. Well, your old vice still ; mistake the| ee s than hairs, and more wealth than
word: what news then in your paper? _ "7 =e i :
Laun. The blackest “news, that ever thou) aun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine,
‘and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article :

Enter Speed.

heard’st. lreh saved
Speed. Why, man, how black ? ee te ee
Laun. Why, as hinelr as ink. Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit,—
Speed. Let me read them. Lain. More hair than wit,—it may be; II
Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst ppererore, #4 the cover of the salt hides the salt, and
veal . therefore it is more than the salt; the hair that
Speed. Thou liest, I can. hare! wit, a Eee than the wit; for the greater
Laun. 1 will try thee; tell me this: who begot erate gy os hat’s next !
thee ? 5 Speed. Ind more faults than hairs,—
Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. Laun. That’s monstrous: O, that that were out!
yt Speed. Ind more wealth than fmdts,

Laun. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy
+} Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra

3} Grief.

2) St. Nicholas presided over young scholars, (3) Licentioys in language, aScene Il,

cpous 2! well, I'll have
nothing is impossible,
Speed, What then?
Laun. Why, then J witt tell thee,
master stays for thee at the north gate.
Speed, For me?
Laun, For thee? ay; wno art thou?
stanul fora better man than thee,
Speed, And must I go to him ?
Laun. Thou must run to hun, for thou hast staid
so long, that going will scarce serve the turn.

—that thy

he hath

speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of
yout love-letters ! | Aeait,
Laun. Now will he be swinved for r ding my
letter: an unmannerly slave. that will thrust hiimn-

elf into ecre! t wh Ht afl r, Lo rejoices in the boy’s

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

her: and if it be a match, as|By aught that I can speak itt his dispraisé,

She shall not long continue love to him.
|But say, this weed her love from Valentine,
lt follows not that sheavill love sir Thurio.
| Lh. Therefore, as you unwind her love from
—
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 ;
because we know, on Valentine’s report,
You are alr ady love’s firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind,
Upon this warrant shall you have access,

correction, | Exit. | Where you with Silvia may confer at large ;
‘For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, —
SCIENE. IT «Sie aube,: A teen indie Ticks! And, for your triend?s sake, will be glad of you ;
malace. Enter Duke and Thurio: Proteus be-|r. 1 0 9 ot temper her, by your persuasion,

j ; lo hate young Valentine, and love my friend.

iia :

. Pro. As much as I can do, I will eflect :—
But you, sir'Thurio, are not sharp enough ;

D: ir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love) You must lay lime,* to tangle her desires,

you By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Now Valentine is banish’d from her sicht. Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.

Phe mice his exile she hath« dime most,) Duke. Ay, much the force of heeven-bred poesy.
Forsworn my con und rail’d at me, Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
That lamd ite of obtaining her. You sacrilice your tears, your sighs, your heart :

Droid Phis weak i ess of love ts asa figure | Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears
Trer ad? in tes which with an hou heat Vioist it as ain; and frame some fecling line,
Disso! to | doth lose Ins form ‘That may discover such integrity :—

\ lit ime will rer frozen ugh lor Orpheus’ lute was strung with poet’s sinews ;
And worthless Val hall be forerot Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
low now, sir Proteus? Is your cou n, Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans

\eun dine to om pro lam Lion, gone { l’orsake un ounded d ‘eps to dance on sands,

Pro. Gone, my good lord. \fter your dire-lamenting elegies,

Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously. | Visit by night.your lady’s chamber-window

P; A little Lime, my lord, will kill that erief (With some sweet concert: to their instruments

Duke. Sol believe; but Thurio thinks not so.— Tune a deploring dump ;* the night’s dead silence
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of the Will well become such sweet complaining griey-
(For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,) ance.

Makes me the better to confer with thee. This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Pro. Longer than I prove loval to your grace,
Let me not live to look upon your grace

Duke. Thou know’st. how willinely [ would effect
The match by tween sir Thurio and my d Lucht r.

Pro. 1 do, my lord.

Duke. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.

Duke. Ay, and perversely she perseveres so.
What might we do, to make the girl forget
The Jove of Valentine, and love sir Thurio ?
Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice,

Three things that women highly hold in hate.

y
and poor descent;

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
By one, whom she esteemeth as his frien:

“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 cood word cannot ad

him,
Your slander never can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being entreated to it by your friend.

spoken
}

he

\ inta re

Pro. You have prevail’d, mylord: if I can do it,

(1) Graceful. (2) Cut. (3) Bird-lime.

 

Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in
lov Be

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in prac-
tice :

Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
[.et us into the city presently
To sort® some gentlemen well skill’d in music
| have a sonnet, that will serve the turn,
To give the onset to thy good advice.
Duke. About it, gentlemen,
Pro. We’llwait upon your grace till after supper,
(nd afterward determine our proceedings,
| Duke, Even now about it; I will pardon you.

[Exeunt,
veh 2
| ACT IV
‘SCENE I.—4 forest, near Mantua, Enter
certain Out-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;

| (4) Mournful elegy. (5) Choose out.Fl 40
a
a | If not, we'llmake you sit, and rifle you.
EL Speed. Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
| That all the travellers do fear so much.
a Val, Myfriends,— .
ii 1 Out. That’s not so, sir; .we are your enemies, |
. 2 Out. Peace; we'll hear him.

 

 

3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we ;
. For he’s a proper’ man.

a Val. Thenknow, that I have]

| A manI am, cross’d with adversity :

. My riches are these poor habiliments,

Of which if you should here disfurnish me, |

itthe wealth to lose; |

You take the sum and substance that 1 have.

|

2 Out, Whither travel you?
Val. To Verona.
t 1 Out. Whence came you? |

7

IS. nd

j

" GESMRN pass cibdise’ Cea. caibaibaing

v

 

me | Val. From Milan.
a 3 Out. Have you long sojourn’d there?
| Val. Some sixteen months; and longer might
. k t have staid,
he . If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
1 1 Out. What, were you banish’d thence ?
i tH Val. I was. ;
i 2 Out. For what offence ?
4 Val, Forthat which now torments me torehearse:
Hi J kill’d a man, whose death J much repent ;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery

done so:

1 Out. Why ne’er repent it, if it were
But were you banish’d for so small a fault ?

Comets ane heen Dea 9

+ Fi Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom.
i 1 Out, Have you the tongues ??
Bi Val. My youthful travel therein made me happy;
, ea Or else I often had been miserable.
a 3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood’s fat
friar,
This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
1 Out. We'll have him: sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them ;
Tt is an honourable kind of thievery
Val. Peace, villain!
Out. Tell us this: have you any thing to take
to?
Val. Nothing, but my fortune.
3 Out, Know then, that some of us are gentle-

men,
Such as the fury of ungovern’d youth
Thrust from the company of awful* me
Myself was from Verona banished,
For practising to steal away a lady,
An heir, and near allied unto the duke.
2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman,
Whom, in my mood,’ I stabb’d unto the heart.
1 Out. And I, for such like petty crimes a
these.
But to the purpose—(for we cite. our faults,

‘
ri ¢

LALt

1
Lic

That they may hold excus’d our lawless lives, )
And, partly, seeing you are beautificd
With goodly shape; and by your own report

A linguist; and a man of such pertection,

As we doin our quality much want ;—
2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banis

Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you:

Are you content to be our general?

To make a virtue of necessity,

And live, as we do, in this wilderness ?

Out. Whatsay’st thou? wilt then be of om
consort ?
Jay, ay, and be the captain of us all:
We'll do thee homage, and he rul’d by thee,

&}

Well-looking,
Lawful.

(2) Languages.
\4) Anger resentment.

  

TWO GENTLEMEN OF YERONA,.

SCENE I.—Milan.

i'And now I must be

h’d man,

Act IV.

Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1 Out. Butif thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.
29 Qut. Thoushalt not live to brag wnat we aave

ofier’d.
Val. 1 take your offer, and will live with you;
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poor passengers,
3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,

| And show thee all the treasure we have got ;

Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.

[Exeunt.
Court of the palace. Ei-
ter Proteus.

Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,

| have access my own love to prefer ;

But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,

To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ;
When to her bi 1 commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I iov’d:
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips,‘

aunty
GULLY

The least whereof would queil a lover’s hope,
Yet, spanicl-like, the more shespurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still,

ere comes Thurio: now must we to her wine

aqow,

And give some even'ng music to her ear,
Enter Thurio, and musicians,
Thu. How now, sir Proteus ? are. you crept
he 7 re i }
Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio; for, you know, that
love

p in service where it cannot go.
\y, but, I hope, sir, that you love not here.

YxT817 :
r¥ Tit Cree

£ittul
ro. Sir. but I do: or else I would be hence.
Lh Whom? Silvia?
P Ay, Silvia—for your sake.
Z [thank you for yourown. Now, gentle-
men,
et’s tune, and to it lustily awhile.
Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in boy’s

clothes.

Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you’re

lycholly; I pray you, why is it?
| Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be

merry.
| Host. Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring
you shall hear music, and see the gen-

|you where

in that you ask’d for.
Jul. But shall I hear him speak ?
Host. Ay, that you shall,

Jul. That will be music, [ Music plays
Host. Hark! hark! ;
Jul. Is he among these?

Host, Ay: but peace, let’s hear ‘em.

SONG,

Who is Silvia? What is she,

That all our swains commend her ?
Holy, fair, and wise ts she;
é The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.

 

(5) Passionate reproaches,Scene LI.

Is she kind, as she is faiy fe
For beauty lives with ki
Love doth lo her eyes r epair,
To help him of his bli
Ind, being r help’d, inh

i? nd Ness -

ndne 33
abdils there,
Then to Silvia let us sin o"
Lihat Silvia is excelli .
She excels each mortal t hin Le,
Upon the dull earth dip elline,

To her let us g

How n
before

How do you, man? the music likes you not.
Jid.

dyis

arli inds arin y

Host. ow?

are yous
. J

'
4+}
t

TWO G ENTLEMEN OF Y ERONA,

idder than you were

You mistake © musician likes me not.

Host. W hy, my pretty vouth ?

Jul. He plays false, lather.

Host. How? out of tune on the strings ?

Jul. Not so: but yet so false that he erieves m\
very heart-string

Host. You have a quick ear,

Jul, Ay. ] would | were G al! it mi Ie m lave
a slow heart.

Host. I perecive vou d li ht n lism

ul, Nota whit. when j irs so

Host. Hark, what fins change ts in th usic !

Jul. Ay: that change is the spits

Host. You would have th m always play but
one thing?

Jul. I would always have on play but of}

thine.
But, host, doth this sir P; , & talk on,
Often resort unto thi ntlewoman ?

Host. 1 tell you what Laune » Mis tman, told ms
he loved her out ofall)

Jul, Where $ La nee {

Host. Crone ; ys ix } a . 7 hic! 10. ; 7
by his master’s ec immand, he must ¢ ' ‘
present to | is lady,

Jul, Peace! stand ic! ft company na

Pro, Sir Thurio, fear not you! | wil! iu
That you shall say, my cunnine d iit ex

Thx. Where mect w

Pro, At saint Grrerory’s w i,

Zhu, Farewell,

Silvia appears above, at }

Pro. Madam, good even to vo lad

Siu. I thank you for your mu ic, gentl
Who is that, that spake ?

Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pur
truth,
You'd quickly learn to know him by his vo
Sil, Sir Proteus, asl take it. ~
Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lad , and your servant,
Su, Whatis your will! ?
Pro. : That Im ( naa ts
Siu. You have your v ish; my will is even thi ioe
hat present ly you h ié¢ You home to bed
Thou subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal man!
Think’st thou, 1 am so shallow, so conceitl: $8,
To be sedue’d by thy flattery,
That hast deceiv’d so manv with thy vows ?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me —by this pale queen of nicht L swe ir,

I am so far from granting thy request,

That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit :
(1)
(2)

seyond all reckoning,
Holy dame, blessed lady

y

Thy

   
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
    
  
 
 
  
  
 
    
    
   
     
     
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
  
   
     
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
    
   
 
   
 
 
  
   
  
 
   

4t
(nd by and by
ven for this t
I gr: int,

1S dead.

intend to chide myself,
time I spend in ts kine to thee,
sweet “tore that I did love a lady ;

’ro.
But she
Jul,

lor, Lam sure,

qs) ‘ }

’T were false, if I should speak it,
ae is not burie vd. Aside.

Ou. Oay, that she he; vet \ alentine, thy friend,
Survives; to whom. thys elf art witness,
! am betr tivd: And art thou n ot asham’ d
£0 Wrong him with thy importinacy ?
P» }

. Ll likewise hear. that } alentine is dead.
Gr: AeA

SO, Suppose, am; for in his grave,
Assure t {, my love Is buried,
Pro. § lady, let me rake it from the earth.
Su. Go to thy lady’s crave, and call her’s thence ;
Ur, the least, in} in ‘ epulc hre thine.
Jil. He heard not that. [ Aside.
P Madam, if your heart be so obdiar: ate,
' e me yet your picture for my love,
i ire that is hanging in Seu chamber ;
Vo that Pll speak, to that PIL: igh and weep ;
For. since th stanes ‘of your perfect self
Is else |, Lam but a shac ow:
And toy idow I will make true love.
ic ‘ substance, you would, sure,
{ iv¢ °
{nd make it | hadow, asT am, [ .2side,
r | Y | 1 to he your idol, sir ;
B yo 1d shall become you well
l‘o wor » shadow and adore fulse shapes,
{to mei ung, and I’ll send it:
P 1s wretches have o’er-night,
Chat 1 for execution in the morn.
P id Silvia, from above,
ll. YY wil] uso?
Flost. | 1lidom,? I was fast asleep,
] , sir Proteus ?
Host. M , my house: ‘Trust me, I think
a ost d
j J but it hath been the longest night
That e’er I y ‘h’d, and the most heaviest.
[| Exveunt,
S VE IIT— ne. Enter Eclamour,
Eel, This is the hour that madam Silvia
»call, and know her mind;
mn she’d employ me in.—
ned hove, at her window,
Sil, Who ealls ?
rl, cour servant, and your friend ;
Q Lt attends vour ladyship’s command,
Si, Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-mor-
I
Eel. As mar worthy lady, to yourself.
According to your | hip’s impose,?
lam thus early come, to know what service
it } our pl ure to command me in.
Sil. O Eelamour, thou art a gentleman
Chink not, I flatter, for, I swear, I do not, )

e, remorseful,* well ace omplis hy d.
imnorant, what de ar good will
r unto the banish’d Vals ntine ; .
Nor how my “ * would enforce me marry
un Thurio, wi ny very soul abhorr’d.
elf and I have heard thee say,
erief r come so near your heart,
\s when thy lady and thy true love died,

nom I
hast ‘ | -

did eve

{
i

~
YO

(3) Injunction, command,

(4) Pitiful,CSS

a ee

 

 

cgi Nata <p nn

az

Upon whose grave thou vowdst pure chastity.
Sir Eglamour, | would to Valentine,
To Mantua, where, J hear, he makes abode ;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
1 do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour | repose.
Urge not my father’s anger, glamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady’s grict;
And on the justice of my flying heuce,
'T'o kecp me from a inost 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 sands, \
To bear me company, and go with me:
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That [may venture to depart alone.
Egl. Madam, [ pity much your eTievanees 3
Which since I know they virtuously are plac’d,

SC

dd

 

I give consent to go along W ith you ;
Recking! as little what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortunc you.
When will you go?

Sil. This cyening coming.

Egl. Where shall 1 meet you ?

Sil. At friar Patrick’s cell, |{
Where I intend holy confession. r

Eel. 1 will not fail your ladyship: \
Good-morrow, gentle lady. lf

|
|

{ Eaxcunt.\(

Sit, Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour.

, . |
Enter Launce, will}

SCENE 1V.—The san.

his dog.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

   

Act IV.

srved me, when I took my leave of madam Silvia ;
id not L bia thee still mark me, and do asi do?

When didst thou sce me heave up my leg, and make
water against a gentlewoman’s farthingale ? didst
thou ever sce me do such a trick ¢

Enter Proteus and Julia,

Pro. Sebastian is thy name ? I like thee well,

And will employ thee in some service presently.

Jul. In what'you please ;—I will do what I can.
Pro. Lhope, thou wilt.—lHlow now, you whore-
son peasant ? [7'o Launce.

Vhere have you been these two days loitering ?
Laun. Marry, sir, 1 carried mistress Silvia the

dog you bade me.

Pro. And what says she, to my little jewel ?
Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur;

and tells you, currish thanks is good enough for
such a present.

Pro. But she reecived my dog ?

Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I
yroueht him baek again.

Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?

Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen
rom me by the hangman’s boys in the murket
lace: and then I offer’d her mine own; who tsa
lor as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gilt
he greater.

Pro. Go, ect thee hence, and find my dog again,
ry ne’er return again unto my sight.
Away, Isay: Stay’st thou to vex me here ?
\ slave, that, still an end,* turns me to shame.

{Eau Launce.

‘Sebastian, I have entertained thee,

ortly. that I have need of such a youth
I? a ’

The ons servant sli ay the cur withlrp : : :
When a man’s servant shall play the eur with) That can with some discretion do my business,

him, look you, it goes hard: one that I broucht up
of a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when
three or four of bis blind brothers and sisters went)
toit! I have taught him—even as one would say|
precisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent]
to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from|
my master; and I came no sooner into the dining-|
chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and |
steals her capon’s leg. © ’tis a foul thing, when|
a cur cannot keep? himself in all companies ! I
would have, as one should say, one that takes upon
him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at
all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to|
take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he
had been hanged for’t; sure as [ live, he had ‘suf-|
fered for’t: you shall judge. He thrusts me him-
self into the company of three or four gentlemen-
like dogs, under the duke’s table: he had not been
there (bless the mark) a pissing while ; but all the|
chamber smelt him. Out with the dog, says one ;
What cur is that? says another; Whip him out,|
says the third; Hang him up, says the duke.

 

For tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt:
But chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour ;
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia :
She loved me well, delivered it to me.
Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her
token:
She’s dead, belike.
Pro. Not so; I think, she lives.
Jul. Alas!
Pro, Why dost thy ery, alas!
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should’st thou pity her?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you as
well :
As you do love your lady Silvia:
She dreams on him, that has forgot her love ;
You dote on her, that cares not for your love.

lor: .
‘!?Tis pity, love should be so contrary ;

having been acquainted with the smell before, | o% :
| rey} And thinking on it makes me cry, alas!

knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that
whips the dogs: Friend, quoth I, you mean to
whip the dog? Ay, marry, do J, quoth he. You
do him the more wrong, quoth 1; ’twas I 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, Pll
be sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings he
hath stolen, otherwise he had been executed: |
have stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed,
otherwise he had suffered for’t: thou think’st not
of this now!—Nay, I remember the trick you
(3) In the end.

(1) Caring. (2) Restrain,

| Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal

| This letter ;—that’s her chamber.—Tell my lady

‘I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. ~ P

Your message done, hie home unto my chamber

Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. :

{Exit Proteus,
Jul. How many women would do such a mes-
sage ?

Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain’¢

A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs :

Alas, poor fool! Why do I pity him .

That with his very heart despiseth me ?

Because he loves her, he despiseth me;

Because I love him, I must pity him, :Scene I, II,

This ring I 2
‘To vind him to remember
And now am | (unhappy messenger)

lo jdead for that, which I would not obtain -
To carry that which | would have re fus'’d ;

my rood will:

lo praise his faith, which I would have disprais’d

l ar’ my master’s true confirmed love

but cannot be true servant to my masts i
j é ,

Unless | prove false traitor to myself,

Yet | will woo for him: but yet so coldly,

A , hy iven, if knows, \ would not have hin pe d.

Enter Silvia, attended.

(as ritle Wwe

lo bring mec where to Sj

Yi. What would vou with her, if that I be she ?
2 Jul. Uf you be she, I do entreat your patience
lo h LF ine sp ak the mcssauce L am sent on.

‘7. From whom ?

ful. From my ma ter,

sir Proteus, madam.

ov. O!—He sends you for a picture ?

Jul, Avy madam.
Su. Ursula, bring my picture there.
| Picture brourht.
Go, give your master this: tell him from me,
One July 1, that his ch nce thou this lore a

Would better fit his
Jul. Mad im, please you peruse this letter.-
ardon me, madam : | have unadvis’d
Delivered vou a paper that [ should not:
Tits ts the letter to you ladyship.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Fral, It may not be
Su. The re, hold.
I will not look upon your master’s lines :
I know, they are stuff’d with protestations,

chamber,

And full of new-found oaths ; which he will break/’T}

As easily as I do tear his paper.

Jul, Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
Su. The more shame for him that he sends it me

For, I have heard him say a thousand times
His Julia gave it him at his departure:
Though his false finger hath profan’d the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.
Jul. She thanks you.
Sid. What say’st thou ?

’

Jul, [thank you, madam, that you tender her:
Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. |

Si, Dost thou know her?

Jul, Almost as well as I do know myself:
To think upon her woes, I do protest,
That I have wept a hundred several times.

Sil. Belike, she thinks that Proteus hath forsook

her.

TWO GENTLEMEN OR VERONA,

ave him, when he parted from me,

man, rood day . 7% pray you, be my mean
eak with madam Silvia.

than this shadow.

good madam, pardon me.

  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
 
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
   

43

As if the garment had been made for me:
Vherefore, I know she is about my height.
And, at that time, I made her weep a-good,*
lor I did play a lamentable part ;
Madam, *twas Ariadne, passioning
HT or] heseus’ perjury, and unjust flight ;
Which I so lively acted with my tears
hat my poor inistress, moved therewithal,
- bitterly ; and, would I might be dead,
{ : a a felt not her very sorrow !
Su. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth i
\las, poor lady! desolate and left !—
l weep myself, to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this
or thy sweet mistress? sake, because thou lov’st her.
Farewell, [Eat Silvia.
| Yul. And she shall thank you for’t, if e’er you
know her,.—
\ virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
{ hope my master’s suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress’ love so much.
Alas, how love ean trifle with itself!
Her is her picture: Let me see ; I think,
If I had such a tire,? this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers:
And yet the painter flatter’d her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Mer hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow:
If’ that be all the difference in his love,
Pil get me such a colour’d periwig.
Her eves are grey as glass; and so are mine:
\y, but her forehead’s low, and mine’s as high,
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I can make respective* in myself,
If this fond love were not a blinded god ?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For ’lis thy rival. O thou senseless form!
10uU shalt be worshipp’d, kiss’d, lov’d, and ador’d ;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
;|’ll use thee kindly for thy mistress’ sake,
That us’d me so; or else, by Jove I vow,
[ should have seratch’d out your unseeing eyes,
| To make my master out of love with thee. [ Exit,

| po
AOL VY.
SCENE I.—The same. An abbey. Enter
Eglamour.

Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky ;
‘And now, it is about the very hour
‘That Silvia, at Patrick’s cell, should meet me.
‘She will not fail; for lovers break not hours,

Jul. 1 think she doth, and that’s her cause of|[nless it be to come before their time ;
|

sorrow.
Sil. Is she not passing fair ?

Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is:

When she did think my master lov’d her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
(nd threw her sun-expelling mask away,

The air hath starv’d the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch’d the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as |.

Sil. How tall was she?

Jul. About my stature: for, at Pentecost,!
When all our pageants of delight were play’d,
Our youth got me to play the woman’s part,
And I was trimm’d in madam Julia’s gown,
Which served me as fit by all men’s judgment,

(1) Whitsuntide, (2) In good earnest,

(So much they spur their expedition,
Enter Silvia.

See, where she comes: Lady, a happy evening !
Su. Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour !
Out at the postern by the abbey-wall ;
‘I fear, I am attended by some spies.
Eel. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues
| "ae
If we recover that, we are sureSenough. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The same,
Duke’s
Julia.

in apartment in the
palace, Enter Thurio, Proteus, anq

| Thu. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit?
|

(3) Head-dress, (4) Respectable. (5) Safe,a
& a
a it
Hi |
ae I
ua

mp

i |
|
‘|
ie ||
ei.
f- :
nt fi
B M

E

é

Ne ges ee oe

  

44 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. .

Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she was ;
And yet she takes exceptions at your person,
Thu, What, that my leg is too long ?
Pro. No; that it is too little.
Thu. Vil wear a boot, to make it somewha
rounder.
Pro. But love will not be spurr’d to what it
loaths.
Thu. What says she to my face?
Pro. She says, it is a fair one.
Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies; my face is
black.
Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is,
Black.men are pearls in beauteous ladies’ eyes. |
Jul. "Tis true; such pearls as put out ladies’ |
CYes ;
For I had rather wink than look on them. [4
Thu. How likes she my discourse ¢
Pro. Ti, when you talk of war,
Thu. But well, when I discourse of love, and|
peace ?
Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your|
peace, [ Aside.
Thu. What says she to my valour?
Pro, O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.
Jul. She needs not, when she knows it coward-
ice, l. lside.
Thu. What says she to my birth?
Pro. That you are well deriv’d,
Jul. True; from a gentleman to a fool, [2side.
Thu. Considers she my possessions /
Pro. O, ay; and pities them.
Thu. Wherefore ?
Jul. That such an ass should owe! them, [.2side
Pro. That they are out by |
Jul, Here comes the duke.

Enter Duke.
Duke. Wow now, sir Proteus? how now, Thurio

Which of you saw sir Eglamour of

Thu. Not I.

 

|
|
|
|

er inac
¥ LUulle

Pro. Wor I.
Duke. Saw you my daughter ?
Pro. Neithe:

Duke. Why, then she’s fled unto that peasant
Valentine ;

And Eglamour is in her company.
Tis true; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander’d through the forest :
Him he knew well, and guess’d that it was she ;
But, being mask’d, he was not sure of it:
Besides, she did intend confession

At Patrick’s cell this even: and there she was not:

These likelihoods confirm her flight from hene
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
3ut mount you presently ; and meet with me

Upon the rising of the mountain foot
a

That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled :|

} [ feat

Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. | a t.|

Thu. Why, this itis to be a peevish? girl,
That flies her fortune when it follows her:
Pll after; more to be reveng’d on Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless? Silvia. [ Eat,
Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia’s love,
Than hate of Eclamour that ¢oes with her. [&ai
Jul. And I wiil follow, more to cross that love,
Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Hait,

SCENE °IUI.—Frontiers of Mantua. The

’

Forest. Enter Silvia, and Out-laws.
Out. Come, come:

ql) Own. (2) Foolish, (3) Careless.

 

 

   
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
    
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
    
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
    
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
   

Act Z

Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.
Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one
Have learn’d me how to brook this patiently,
2 Out. Come, bring her away.
1 Jut. Where is the gentleman that was with
her ?
3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us,
But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him.
(so thou with her to the west end of the wood,
here is our captain: we’ll follow him that’s fled ;
he thicket is beset, he cannot ’scape,
1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain’s
Cave:

1

‘

‘Fear not: he bears an honourable mind,

4nd wiil not use a woman lawlessly.

Sil, O Valentine, this I endure for thee!
[ Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—Another part of the Forest.
Enter Valentine.

Val. Wow use doth breed a habit in a man
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
| better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale’s complaining notes,
and record* my woes.

}
i

une my distresses,
!

'O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,

Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ;
lest. crow ing rumous, the building fall,

‘And leave no memory of what it was!

tepair me with thy presence, Silvia ;

fhou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain !—
‘Vhat halloing, and what stir, Is this to-day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their

aw,

‘some unhappy passenger in chace:

They love me well; yet I have much to do,

To keep them from uncivil outrages,

draw thee, Valentine ; who’s this comes here ?
[Steps aside,

Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia.

Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you
(Though you respect not aught your servant doth, )

Yo hazard life, and rescue you trom him

That would have fore’d your honour and your
love. :

| Youchsafe me, for my meed,* but one fair look ;

\ smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
| And less than this, Lam sure, you cannot give.
| Val. How like a dream is this 1 see and hear?
| Loy: , lend m p ience to forbear awhile. [ side.
|} Si/. O miserable, unhappy that Iam!
| Pro. Unhappy, were you, raadam, ere I came ;
But, by my coming, I have made you happy.

’ a}
/ I ‘) ‘ . am 4 ‘ tial
Su. Bs thy approach thou mak’st me mast un

when he approacheth to your
presence. [ Aside,
Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion,

| have been a breakfast to the beast,
i. &) . oo . : . ail
itather than have false Proteus rescue me.
1O, heaven be judge, how | love Valentine,

* Wh ‘7 _
|Whose life’s as tender to me as my soul:

}And full as much (for more there cannot be, )
| ly letest Clee ried roterus* :
ji COC Uf use perjul d Proteus:

‘Therefore be gone, solicit me no more.

| Pro \\ “{ lnnmwarnne «an ’ . .
ro. mat dangerous action, stood it next tk
| death,

ia ould I not undergo for one calm look?

(4) Sing. (5) Reward.Scene IV. TWO GENTLI

Q, *tis the curse in love

and still approv'd,! Pro,

W hen women cannot love where they’re beloy’d on
Su. When Proteus cannot love where he’s An, den
below'd. tiow o

Read over Julia’s heart, thy first best Jo . 0
For whose dear sake thou didst then r nd thy |B 10

faith ’
Into a thousand oaths: and all those oaths In a dis
Descende: d into perjury, to love me. It is {

And that’s far worse than none: bett, r have
Than plural faith, which is too much by one Pro,
‘hou counterfeit to thy trur friend!
Pro. , In love Birt cor
Who respects friend ? ills |
Sil, All men but Proteus
Pro. Nay, if the centle spirit of mor ne W

-MEN UF VERUNA,

‘

45

yehold her that gave ain? to all thy oaths,

tertain’d them dee ply in her heart :

}
¥}

» tet this hab}

u asham’d , that
such an imn

ruise of love:

: | rb if y? ‘ mod
Thou hast no faith lef now, unless thou hadst two.) Women to hie e their

Than men their

uCavyen ! Were

olest raiment

(Chast thou wy ith perjury cleft the root !3

t make thee blush!
[ have took upon me
if shame live

sty finds,
shapes, than men their

minds? °’tis true: O
man

‘e perfect: that one error

makes him run through all

. i Ving oras | incy falls off ere it be rins:
Can no wal chehin you to a milder forin, a Silvia’s { but I lly Spy
I'll woo vou lik -a soldier, at arms’ end : 1 in Julia’s with a con tant eye?
And love you 'e gainst the nature of love, for »you } { ( , 2 hand froim either:
si. O neaven ! Ly i lo! k this happy close ;
_ nL — Ft 1
Pro, I'll foree thee yield to my desire.) two such friends should be long foes.
Fal Te Bh is ;' fet} sale :
Val. Ruffian, let go that rudé un ivil + j witness, heaven, | have my wish for
Thou fri nd Of an ill fashion!
Pro. \ ni : J \ nave my
Val. Thou common friend, that’s wit t fait}
‘ or los i. Enter Out- wilh Duke and Thurio.
(I OF Such 18 alriend now.) ¢ I ! ' . i : ;
Thou hast beguil’d my hopes: noucht | mil + gi \ prize, a prize, a prize !
7 . 1 }
evi , [ * | \ lt is mv lord the duke,
Could have persuaded me: N I dare net say ; ° 16 LO Aman disgrac’d,
Il have one friend aliv: c.4 1% ’ io ’ s :
Who should be trusted no ' ri , L fia a : os Valentine !
. at , nd ] i | Ye >
Is perju d to the bosom ? | : : 2 my id Suvia’s mine,
I am sorry, | must never trust t ; pack, or else embrace thy
But count the wor! i stray rio ‘
rn ; ; * 3 ‘ ’ , «yf .
lhe private wound is: st: Otime.: i. aril ithin the 1 sure? of my wrath:
*Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst !|. al sad Oe re
Pro. My shaine | ruilt confounds ‘I i Here she stands,
‘ : } { } r yoytt t RO ccs
ores me, | wlentine : if he ' \V On Ol ra a COUCH |
Be : suill Ciel ra SOni | j i. . 73 a my 10ve.—
, tone t he ldo i ) ~ 2 Car n t for he y 23
As ee! I did « mi } \ aoe | qanevel
Val. ] | i i | ves | TL AN
And once acain I do wee the L I | sne is thine.
nd ral ) d bas ‘t tho
Who by repentance is } cal j cOne an 4 art th u
Be ; 3> f er as thou hast
Is nor of heaven, no . : for her as thou hast done,
‘ Ne . ‘ nei ] nl condimi0ns,.—
By penitence Ut! ko s Vv ! i : . 2
And, that my love 1 ; ? : Or ' peat
. } i ibe y Line,
All that was mine in Silvia, | ’ : ‘ ; > love
; ; ' ' i} Hy n mpress’ love,
Jul, O me, unhappy! | j ! LM ¢ np JON
rv | | former g
Pro. Look tot e boy. t\ n | a rie Is,
Val. Why. boy! w \ P| ; Vane e, ri ul thee home again.—
u. 4] 9 : a P] ' ’y State int al? : merit,
> Eze ii | : ‘
. » ‘a ribe.—sir Vale ntine,
,OOK UD: Speak,
fal. I n) is 3 hou n, and well deriv’d ;
T, Aol : eee | Silt for thou hast deserv’d her.
rauewUver arineg to m J Livi . : ; i
1 a r 7 ie : Val. I u the gift hath made me
nich, out ol mv n ect, was ]
Pro, Wh ; ‘ " : .
riod. nere } Hiv’. ’ ] hy So ac
, | you, f vour dauchter’s sake
if » 7 ' } a? ?
= Hy re Lis IS Ale | fa ° Io ne s all ask of you.
ow et t { : : ; ‘ .
- ’ i } : I i. }) ’ | rr it, lo wuuUnC OWN, whate’er it be.
| stheri ive to. in , own .
ny this is the ring } Phese banish’d men, that I have kept
| ’
“a O, ery you mercy, sir, . withal.
hi he yr you sent to 51! ;
his is the ring you re (ren endued with worthy qualities ;
' : i ive th l they have commit ted here
Pro. But, how cam/’st thou by this ri ’
° . n i thy . | Kap (Vd trom their exile :
depart, Tuli Chey » reformed, civil, full of good,
Julia. ce

I gave this unto

; And fit fi
Jul, And Julia herself did give it me: a

And Julia herself hath brought it hith

(1) Felt, experienced. (2) Direction.

(3) An allusion to cle ving th

e pin in archery. (4) Le

j
|

it employment,

Thou hast pre

i

ol them,

ngth of my sword, (5)

worthy lord.

vail’d: I pardon them and

is thou know’st their deserts.

Interest,

  
  
   
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
    
    
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
  
   
  
   
 
   
  
   
   
 
     
    
   
  
 
  
 

 

,

% Ree ee ee sata

eab

With triumphe,! mirth, and rare solemnity,
Come, let us go; we will include* all jare,

Val, And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
With our discourse to make your grace to smile :
What think fon of this page, my lord ?

1

RE ae

erence eine a
ua. Oo, dace, ta
c

  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

 

WO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

      
   
    

viel v

a alrafigé mixtui¢d of know
ledge and ignorance, of care and negligence, ‘The
versification 18 oiter excellent, the allusions are
learned and just; but the author conveys his
heroes by sea from one inland town to another in
the same country: he places the emperor at Mian,
and sends his young men to attend him, but nev«r
mentions him’ more; he makes Proteus, after as.
interview with Silvia, say he has only seen her pic-

In this play there is

 

Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him; he
if blushes,
m Pel. Val. a ruc you, my lord; more grace than
me || oy.
~ | | Duke. What mean you by that saying ?
‘i Val. Please you, I’fl tell you as we pass along,
é That you will wonder what hath fortun’d.—
‘ae Come, Proteus; ’tis your penance, but to hear
i The story of your loves discovered :
( That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ;
aoe One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
Bay [Exeunt.
eae
f | | (1) Masks, revels. (2) Conclude.

ture: and, if we may credit the old copies, he has,
iby mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable.
The reason of all this confusion seems to be, that
Ihe took his story from a novel which he sometiines
followed und sometimes forsook ; sometimes re-
;membered, 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 given? This question may be
‘asked of all the disputed plays, except Titus An-
\dronicus ; and it will be found more credible, that
Shakspeare might sometimes sink below his highest
flights, than that any other should rise up to his
lowest, JOLINSON,ee

 

 
    

      
   
 

      

    

— -

MERRY WIVES OF WINDS
| i Act V.—WScene 5.

any
“i A
i ' i
it i
|
ti}
'

iT

 

   

TWELFTH NIGHT.
ict J].— Scene °.PERSONS

Sir John Falstuit
Fenton.
Shallow,

72/7

a country jvalice. tugby, servant lo Dr. Caius,
Slender, coustn to Shallow.
+ 2 Ford, ¢ two genticnicn dweiline at Windsor. en “i
William Page, a boy, son to Mr. Pave, Mrs. Anne Page, hi r daughter, in love with Fenton.
Sir Hu; gh Evans, a W els h parson. Mrs. Quickly, servant lo Dr. Caius.
Dr. Caius, a French physician.
Host of the Garter Inn. servants to Page, Ford, &c.
Bardolph,
Pistol, ¢Sollowers of Falstaff. ’ Seene, Windsor; and the parts adjacent,
Nym, )
AGT -I, | Eva. Itis not meet the council hear ariot: there
lis no fear of Got ina riot: the council, look you,
SCENE. I.—Windsor. Before Pase’ ot ee tage 0 ec ea not to hear
2 . «tf ‘ . ‘ ‘ i
Enter Justice Shallow, Slende r, dad Sir' Hu a) Shal, Hal o my hie , if | were young again, the
Evans,
sword should end it,
Shallow | Eva. Itis petter that friends is the sword, and
ewe lend it: and there is also another device in my
‘ prain, which, peradventure, py ‘ings goot discretions
Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will niake a Ste with it: the a Anne Page, which i is daughter to
chamber matter of it: if he were twe nty Si John | most r George Page, which is pretty virginity,
Falstaff’, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, « | len. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair
quire. ; jand epeaks small® like a woman.
Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, | Ewe. Wt is that fery person for all the orld,
and coram. ee just as vou willdesire: and seve n bund, ed odaiics
Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and cust-alorum.* of momes and gold, and silver, is her grandsire,
Slen. Ay, and ratolorum too; and a gentleman upon his Ceath’s-b - (Got delive r lo a joyful resur-
born, master parson; who writes himself urmiscer: rections!) sive. < she is able to overtake seven«
in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, ar- n years old; 1! were a goot motion, if we leave
mirero, our pribbles ane jwabbles, and desire a marriage
Shal., , that we do Oe have done any time ibetween masie Abraham, and mistress Anne
the os tees hundred ye: Pa
Sten. All his successors, gone before him, hav Shal, Did her cravdsire leave her seven hundred
done’t; and all his ancestors » Lhat come ter him, pound ?
may: they may give the dozen white luces in their|' iva. Ay, and hs Lerismake hera petter penny.
coat. ee ! kriow the yvouwe rentle woman; che has
Shal. It is an old coat. lerood mf
Eva. The dozen white louse 5 do become an old hag Seven huy nar , pound ay and possibilities, is
coat well ; it agrees well, passant: tas a familias root gifts.
beast to man, and signifies—love, : Shal. Well, let us see honest master Page : is
Shal. The luce is the fresh fi h; the salt fish iSiPalstaff there ?
an old coat, | Eva. Shall [ tell you a Ve? I do despise a liar,
Slen. I may quarter, coz? las I dode pise one that is false; or, as I de spise
Shal. You may, by marrying. lone thatisnottrue. The knight, sir John, i is there
Eva. It is marring g indecd, if he quarter if, land, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-wille rs.
Shal. Not a whit. It will peat the door [knocks] for master Page.
Eva. Yes, py’r? lady; if he has a quarter of your) yy hat, a ! Got pless your house here!
coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my} :
simple conjectures: but thatisallone - if Sir John} Enter Pace
Falstaff have committed di: pre ments unto you, | oo
I am of the church, and will be glad to do mv bv -| Page. Who's there?
ee nee, to make atone ments and c OM PrOTsé Bos ges Gots plessing, and your friend,
preg -whr® shall hear it; it is a riot. | and justice Shallow ; and here young master Slen-
| ,
1) A title formerly appropriated to ch iplains, (3) v oer (4) Court of star-chamber
(5) Advisement. /6) Soft.
2) Custos rotulorum, ’

 

   
 
  
    
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
      
   
    
  
  
  
  
 
   
      
   
   
 
  
    
   
  
  
  
      
 
   
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
    

REPRESENTED

| Robin, page lo Falstaff.

|Simple, servaiul lo Slendert
i
it
ie
ss cs t
. 4
pS
E f
x 4
i
4
‘
+
'

 

«(naomi ba naieaievaarmaae Raat rin

   
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
    
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
    

48 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Vict I.

der ; that, peradventures, shall tell you another tale, junderstand: that is, master Page, fwelicet, master
if matters grow to your lilkis 1gS. Page; and there is myself, fidelic el, myself ; and
Page. Iam glad to see your worships well: I|the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of

thank ou for my yenison, master Shallow. the Garter.
Shab. Master Page, I am glad to see you; much| Page. We three, to hear it, and end it between

ood do it your cood heart! I wished your venison|them.
faite “rs it was ill killed: —how doth good mistress] Eva. Fery goot: I wil ll] make be it in my

Pare ?and I love you always with my heart, la -|note-book ; “and we will afterwards ’ork upon the
J ;

with my heart. "leause, with as great discreetly as we can.

 

Page. Sir, Il thank you. Fal. Pistol,—

Shal. Sir, It] rank you ; 1; by yeaand no, I do. Pist. Ue hears with ears.

Paze. Iam glad to se é you, good master Slen-| Eva. The tevil and his tam! what phrase is this,
der. [He hears with ear? Why, it is affectatious.

Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? Ij al. Pistol, did you pic k master Slender’s s purse ?

t«

heard aay, a was outrun on Cotsale.}
Page. \t could not be judg’d, sir.

sf ;
i lle AY, i ;

|
|
| S/ by these gloves, did he (or I would I
might never come in mine own great chamber again

Slen. a Vl not cont vou ll not confess. else.) of seven croats in mill-sixpences, and two
Shalt. That he will not seaehtl ; your fault, ’tis your| Edward shovel-boards,” that cost me two shilling
fault :—’tis a good dog. land two pence apiece of Yeaa Miller, by these
Page. A cur, sir. cloves.
Shal. Sir, he’s a gor d dog, and a fair dog; can| Fal. Is this true, Pistol?
there be rnore said? he is good, and fair.—Is sir] Eva. No; itis false, if it is a pick-purse,
John Falstaff here ? | Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner !—Sir John,
Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do} and master mine,
a good office between you. 'T combat chall nge of this latten bilbo :8
|

Eva. It-is spoke as a christians ought to sp ak, | Word of denial n thy labras® here ;

Shal. He hath wrong sae me, master Page. Word of denial; froth and scum, thou liest.

Page, Sir, he d th ins e sort confess it. \> ~plen. SO ekial ve 3, then ’twas he.

Shal. If it bec od. it ‘i snotredress’d: isnot] Wyn. Be advised, sir, and pass good humours °

that so, master Paice ? he hath wi ’d me; in-|I will say, marry trap, with you, if you run the
deed, he hath -—at a word, he hath ;—believe me ;—|nuthook > humouron me; thatisthe very note of it.
Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wrong’d. } Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it :
Page. Here comes dir John. for though I cannot remember what I did when you
made me drunk, yet i am not altogether an ass.
Entcr Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and Jal, What say you, Scarlet and John ?
Distal, | Bard. Why, st - for my part, I say, the gentle-
man had drunk himself out of his five sentences.
Fal. Now, master Shallow; you'll complain of va. It is his five senses: fic, what the ignorance
me to the king? Is?
Shal. Knight, 5 you have beaten my men, kilied| Bard. And being fap"! sir, was as they say,
my deer, and bro ke open my lode. lcashier’d ; and so conclusions pass’d the earvires.!2
‘Fa!. But not ! Od vour } eps dauchter. | Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but ’tis
a Tut, a pin! this shall be answer’d, no metter: Piine’er be drunk whilst I live again,
Hal. 1 will answer it straight;—4 have done all/but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick :

| i’ LT be drunk, Pll be drunk with those that have the

this :—that is now answer'd.
Shal. The Patino shail know thi »ar of God, and not with drunken knaves.
Fal. ’T were beiter for you, if it were known in Eva. So Got’?udee me, that is a virtuous mind.
counsel: you'll be laugh’d at. | Fal. You hear ali these matters denied, gentle
Eva. Pauca verda, Sir John, good worts. imen; you bear it,
Fal. Good worts!2 good cabbare.—Slender,: I
broke your head ; what matter have you against Enter Mistress Anne Page with wine; Mistress
me? kord and AMtstress Page following.
Slen. Marry, sir, I shave matter in my head
against you; and against your coney-catching Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in;_ we'll
rascals, Bardolph, Nvyn end Pistol. They carried drink within, [Exit Anne ‘Page.

me to the tave rn, and van .me drunk, and after-/ Slen. O heaven! this is mistress Anne Page,
wards picked my pocket. | Page. How now, mistress Ford?

Bar. You Banbury cheese !* Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very
Slen. Ay, it is no matter. well met: by your leave, good mistress. ,
Pist. How now, Mephostophilus ?! [kissing her.
Slen. Ay, it is no matter. | Page. Wife, bid these gentiemen welcoine —
Nym. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca ; slice! that’s|\Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ; come,

my humour. leentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all cenictind-
‘Slen, Where’s Simple, my man ?—can you tell, |ness.

cousin? [Exeunt all but Shal. Slend. and Evans.

Eva, Peace, I pray you! Now let us under-| Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had my
stand: there is three umpires in this matter, as I/book of songs and sonnets here :—
|
t

3} Cotswold in Gloucestershire. (7) King Edward’s shillings, used in the game
Worts was the ancient name of all the cal =| of shullle-board. ; i
page kind, (S) Blade as thin asa lath, ) Lips.
8 Sharpers. (4) Nothing but paring. | (10) If you say Lam a thief, (11) Drunk,
The name of an ugly spirit, (6° Few words, | (12) The bounds of good behaviour,Scene IT.

wait on my

Sim. Book

   
    
 
   
     
  

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

49

Enter Simple. inne. Will’t please your worship to come in, sir

How now, Simple! WW hi re nave Vou iy ; n ] Mm tcf ' } a 3 I th nik you, forsooth, heartily ; lam
} I . . vt : : Cry Weil,
self, must? You hav. not sre Bool; inne. The dinner attends you, sir
= ae >: = ' : ae . ‘ tc. it AiLitit ad Sj ; .
Y Riddles about you, h ve you Sten. Tam not a-hunery I thank you, forsooth :
. of Riddles ! why, did y mu not lend!c ee aa : «J . :

it to Alice

fortnight afore

s peace sometime may be beholde is fri
an Com Die dav aae? > 80 e may be beholden to his friend for

A word With

“70, Sirran, for all you are rms ral
Shortcake, upon Allhallowmas last. ai~ ui, for all you are my man, gO, wait upon

Aiken 93 my cousin Shallow: [vit Simple.} A justice ox

| } .
n \:— eep but “ee ni ©
you, Coz: marry, this.coz: | is, Sothern Ne} Dub three men and a boy yet, till

as *twere, a tender, a kind of 1 my mother be dead : but what though ? yet I live
by sir Hugh here ;—do you understand 1 fine mens 2
io. igen dau ny “i . nails oe es may not go In without your worship :
it be 80, I shall do that 1 eo ——— 5 ne will n " Sit, Wil you come,

Mad. Mar bate 3 Sten. Ptaith, Pi eat nothing; I thank you as

Slen, »0o | do, sir 2 RO ekos a Cough I did. | :

a lig a on ie aa : 0d - 1 pray you, Sir, wall m.

will descripti
city of it.
Slen, Nay,

pray Vou, pa

I

a Hien. Thad rather walk here, I thank you: I
on the matter to you, if you bi pa ‘ iy shin the other day with playing at
I will d . VO aid cagger with a master of fence, three
Vill GO aS my cousin S VS¢ci, rine n Asel

m "| ¥Gneys* for a dish of stewed prunes ; and, by my
con me: $a jus ol Nitroth. | abi

» + cannot abide the smell of hot-meat since.
his country, simple though I stand here. j ln 7

Eva. But

’
is concerning your m irria

Shal. Ax.

Eva. Marr
tress Anne Page

Sten. Why

any reasonab!

% But

command

lips; for div

parcel of the ;

carry your ex
'

LO KI

Why Go your dogs bark so? be there bears ? the
latis not the questi nh; tne qu Nitown ?

~ wie. 4 Uunkx there are, sir; I heard them
nere’s Lhe pow Sir. : | of
Y, isit; the ver {

vi , }
° — 2 & op {
Le

rt well; but I shall as soon
ae . iy @S any man in England:—you are
» Mt it De so, I will marry her. ', if you see the bear loose, are you not?

. ° : : . : Ay, 421GCECd, SIr,
1 you tion { fen. ihat’s meat and drink to me now: I have
yw that of your ith, or « Sackerson® loose, twenty times; and have

y the chain: but, I warrant you, the
nouth ;— iscly, Can yi ve so cried and shriek’d at it, that it
0d Wii to the y is" l

Je —but women, indeed, cannot abide ’em ;
nal. Cousin Abra iS can y ve hey ey are very ill-favoured rough things.
Slen. | nope, sir,—] Will d . i I. SNall D ; ; 7 7

one that would do reason. Re-enter Page.
Eva. Nay, Got’s lords | his ladies. x

speak possita!
towards her.
Shal. Th

.
4. At

ry, marry her /

Slen. 1 wil

your request
-

'
Ss ial, Nay. corm

what I do, is
the maid?
Sten. [ will
if there be n
ven may de
when we
know one
grow more ci
I will marry
dissolutely,

Eva. It is

faul’ is in the ort d lutely + th

to our meanin
Shal, Ay, I

le, if y 1 can <¢

i - Vome, gentle master Slender, come; we
you must: will ) Vil eat nothing; I thank you, sir,

r <a «x and pye, you shall not choose,
| do a greater | i that, 1 , me

, COUSIN, 1} y Vou, le ad the way.
lo pleasure you, coz: ( \nne, yourself shall go first,
, tl, sir; pray you, keep on.
marry her, sir, at 1 - druly, I will not go first ; truly, la: I will
love li : > t wrong,
rease it | U, SIF.
ied, and have 1 . Pi r be unmannerly than trouble-
ther: I hope, 1 : you do yourself wrong, indeed, la.
miempt: butif you

; ; [Exeunt,
her, that l slit} treely { :

ICLNE I1—The same. Enter Sir Hugh Evans
a fery discretion answer: » |

and Simple.

R, res

olutely :— , Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius?

j }

in well. » Which is the way: and there dwells one
Slen. Ay, or else I would I mi

Shal. Here
I were young,
Anne. The
desires your w
Shal. I will
Eva, Od’s }
at the grace.

(1)
(2)

migh _Ja.'m (uickly, which is in the manner of his

, or lis dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry,
Re-enter Anne Pave. Is Washer, and

1d lus Wringer.

; . Well, sir,
comes fair mistress Anne:—Would| Eva. Nay. it is petter yet :——~give her this let-
for your sake, mistress Anne! ter; lor it 18 a ’oman that altogether’s acqualn-
dinner is on the table: my {

. uther|t with mistress Anne Page; and the letter is,
orships’ company. ) GOsire and require

juire fer to solicit your master’s
\nne, es to mistress Ann Page; I pray you, be gone ;
essed will! I will not be absence!| will make an end of my dinner: there’s ippins
iad Cheese to come, [ reunt,
Exeunt Shal. and Sir H. Evans.

wait on him, fai

| (3) ‘Fhe name of a bear exhibited at Paris-Gar .
An intended blunder. den, in Southwark.

Three set-to’s, bouts or hits, | (4) Surpassed all expression,
Gee 4 et ¥ TaN Me,
‘i 7 on - ot we 7
eee Pes = - See Cre rer a "
RE SNE I 2 c Seeess, = << - ~
= - ae mo ‘+e acnan

ieee Piet

 

Sot ane Cis mS
OTT. a:

~=

sn et ge ad .

  

51)

SCENE If].—A room in the Garter Inn.
Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and|
Robin. |

Fal. Mine host of the Garter,— ‘
did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass!
Here’s another letter to her: she bears the purse

Host. What says my bully-rook? Speak scho-
larly, and wisely. |

Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some) to9; she is a region in Guiana
iI will be cheater* to them bot!

of my followers.

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

Enter| gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly.

Act I.

Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine.

Nym. I thank thee for thathumour,

Fal. O, she did so course o’er my exteriors with
uch a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye

all gold and bounty.

1, and they shall be

Host. Discard, bully Hercules; cashier: let'exchequers to me; they shall be my Eastand West

them wag; trot, trot.
Fal. I sit at ten pounds a week.

Indies, and I will trade to them both.
‘thou this letter to mistress Page ;

Go, bear

and thou this to

Nini an .c ar or . a
Host, Thou’rt an emperor, Cesar, Keisar, and ;istress Ford : we will thrive, lads, we will thrive.

Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph; he shall
draw, he shall tap: said I well, bully Hector ?
Fal. Do so, good mine host.

Pist. Shall I Sir Pandorus of Troy become,

And by my side wear steel ? then, Lucifer, take all!

Nym. I will run no base humour ; here, take

Host. I have spoke ; let him follow: let me see'the humour letter; I will keep the ’haviour of re-

follow.
{Exit Host.
Fal. Bardolph, follow him; a tapster is a goor

thee froth, and lime: 1 am at a word .

trade: an old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a wither-| 5, i] Jike my pinnace to these golden shores.—
Rocues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hail-stones, go ;

Trudge, plod, away, o’ the hoof; seek shelter,

ed serving-man, a fresh tapster: go; adieu.

Bard. {t is a life that I have desired; I will
thrive. [Exit Bard. |

Pist. O base Gongerian’ wight! wilt thou the

spigot wield !

Nym. He was gotten in drink: is not the hu-
mour conceited? His mind is not heroic, and
there’s the humour of it.

putation.

Fal. Hold, sirrah, [to Rob.] bear you these let-
ters tightly ;°

pack !

Falstaff will learn the humour of this age,
French thrift, you rogues ;

myself, and skirted
page. [Exeunt Falstaff and Robin.

Pist. Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and
fullam® holds,

Fal, 1 am glad, I am so acquit of this tinder-| 414 high and low beguile the rich and poor:

box; his thefts were too open: his filehing was ‘Tester [’]l have in pouch
Base Phrygian Turk!

like an unskilful singer, he kept not time.
Nym. The good humour is, to steal ata minute’s
rest.
Pist. Convey, the wise it call: steal! foh; a
fico? for the phrase !
Fal. Well, sirs, 1 am almost out at heels.
Pist, Why then let kibes ensue.

,” when thou shalt lack,

Nym. I have operations in my head, which be

humours of revenge.

Pist. Wilt thou revenge ?

Nym. By welkin, and her star
Pist. With wit, or steel?
Nym. With both the humours, I:

Fal. There is no remedy ; I must coney-catch ; |] wif} discuss the humour of this love to Page.

I must shift.
Pist. Young ravens must have food.
Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town? |
Pist. I ken the wight; he is of substance good. |
Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am|

about.
Pist. Two yards, and more.
Fal. No ok now, Pistol ;

waist two yards about: but

waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, 1 do mean to}
make love to Ford’s wife ;
her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer|

of invitation: I can construe the action of her fa-|

miliar style; and the hardest voice of her beha-
viour, to be

her well; out of honesty into English.

. . } 5
I spy entertainment in|cond thee ; troop on,

English’d rightly, is, J am Sir John|
Falstaff’s.
Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated|

Pist. And I to Ford shall eke unfold,
How Falstaff, varlet vile,
His dove will prove, his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.

Nym. My humour shall not cool: I will incense®

|Page to deal with poison; I will possess him with
indeed, I am in the|yellowness,* for the revolt of mien ts dangerous :
I am now about no|that is my true humour.

Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents: I se-
[ Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—.4 room in Dr. Caius’ house. Enter

Mrs. Quickly, Simple, and Rugby.

Quick. What: John Rugby!—I pray thee, go

to the easement, and see if you can see my master,
master Doctor Caius, coming:

if he do, i’faith, and

Nym. The anchor is deep: will that humour/|find any body in the house, here will be an old

pass ?

Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule
of her husband’s purse; she hath legions of an-
gels.?

Pist. As many devils entertain; and, To her,

boy, say I.

Nym. The humour rises; it is good: humour
me the angels. ;

Fal. 1 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
judicious eyliads: sometimes the beam of her view

1) For Hungarian, (2) Fig. (3) Gold coin,
4) Escheatour, an officer in the Exchequér -
(5) Cleverly, (6) False dice.

 

 

 

 

 

abusing of God’s patience, and the king’s English.

Rug. Pll go watch. [Exit Rugby.

Quick. Go; and we'll have a 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 warrant you, no
tell-tale, nor no breed-bate:'© his worst fault is,
that he is given to prayer ; he is something peevish?!!
that way; but nobody but has his fault ;—but let
that pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is?

Sim. Ay, for fault of a better.

Quick. And master Slender’s your master ?

Sixpence I’|l have in pocket,

7
ts} Instigate, (9) Jea gusy,

10) Strife,
(11) Foolish, (10) StrifeScené IP, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 51
Sint, AY. fo; {|

SOUL,

| ‘er my master, in the way of marria oe,
Qu ye Dox * Ne not wear a great round beard. Quick, This is all, indeed, la : bat Vl ne’et put
Likce as lover S parine-knife ? my linver in the lire, and need not.
Sem, oo torsooth: he hath but. a little wee lace,| Caius. Sir Ifugh send-a you?—Rueby, bailles
little yellow beard: aC tin-coloured beard.!me some pi iper :—Tarry you a little-a while.
) itis = 4 soltly- priehted m in, Is he not f

sim, Ay, forsooth: but he is as tal]!

[writes.
i hk inds, ats

Tam elad he is so quiet: if he had been
loroughly moved, you should have heard him so

amin of Quich.
any is between this and his head: het}
ith foueht with a w irrener,

loud, and so mek: uicholy ;—but notwithst; inding,

""Qateke How say you ? O, | should remembe) man, Vil do your master what cood I ean: and,

hin : do: she not hold up Nis head, as it were ? and| the very yea and the no is, the Fre nch doctor, my

strut in his eait ? masler,—I may eall him my ‘aaster, look you, for
un, Yes, il leed, dor he

0 he, I keep his aston ; and I wash, wring, brew, bake,
Quick. Well, heaven send Ann: Pace now

rse/scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and
fo 11) ! lel] ASstey parson be LIS, ie To oe do all any: elf -—
lean for your mastc) Anne j Od girl, and I oun. "Lis a great charge, to come under one
W IST) anne body’ hand,
Quick. Are you advis’d o? that ? you shall find it a
Re-entei ts indy. reat charee: und to be up e; arly, and down late ;—
but notwithstanding (to tell you in your ear; I
Rug. Out, alas! here comes m7 ma: r would have no words of it;) my master hiseaoll’ is
Quick. We shall ll bes n run in here, rood iin love with mistress Anne Pace: but notwith-
young man; go into this closet. [Shuts Simple in|s! nding that,—I know Anne’s mind,—that’s nei
the cf b. 1 Li Wiil ! ¥y ion, \\ it, JOHN ther he © nor there,
it os os _ o — <7 G0, Jolin, go Caius. You jJack’nape : give-a dis letter to sur
lniquire | my master; I doubt, | aon ren, | Tfarh ; by gar, it isa shallenge: I vill eut his troat
thst cor t home :— it, wma, de park; and I vill teach a scurvy jack-a-nape
n-a, &e. Lies, est to meddle or make:—you may be gone ; it
is no xd vou larry 7 :—by gar, I will cut all
EC Dector Caius. us tivo 10s; by gar, he shall at have a stone
» trow at his doe, [Exit Simple.
Came, Vatis you si [id i YS;; Quick. Alas, he speaks but fer his friend.
Pray you, go and vetch In my clos 1 Ce lt is no matter-a for aat:—do not you
: i spoak !/tell-a me dat [ shall have Anne Pace for myself?
. by gar, L vill kill de Jack priest: and I have ap-
é \ i i ‘nit you. Tamelad!n inted mine host of de Jarterre to measure our
rot j - j found the young) weapon :—by ear, ] vill myself have Anne Page.
min, he would h iorn-m | Aside, Quick. Sir, ay id loves ye u, and all shall be
Caius. Fe, fe. fe. fe! L chaud.|\ well: we must oo fulks leave to prate: What,
Jemenv aba y—ta le re. the good-jer !4
0 [sj “. 8 Caius. Rugby, come to the court vit me: ;—by
C jus. Ouvs melte | t pocket ; depeche,|oar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your
quickly Vere is dat knave Rugby! head out of my door :—Follow my heels, Rugby.
( What, John R y! John! [| Exeunt Caius and Rugby.
Reuc. Here. s:r. ap io shall have An fools-head of your
fal, - You are John Rugby, and you are Jack pwn. No, | know Anne’s mind for that: never a
tugby: come, take-a your rapier, and come after| woman in W indsor knows more of Anne’s mind
my heel to de court. than Ido; nor can do more than I do with her, [
Rue. ’Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. thank heaven. he
Caius. By my trot. I tarry too lon Od’sme!| Fent. [Vf thin. ] Who’s within there, ho ?
Quay jfoublié? dere j me simples in my closet. Quick. Who’s th ‘re, | trow? Come near the
lat [ vill not for the varld I shall leave behind house, I pray you.
I hme! h id the young man ther¢
al ib | ma it oa ee Enter Fenton.
Yoitic ) diab diable ! vat is in my c} set 7—
\ 1 a ms ae S lk .]| Rugby,| Fent. How now, good woman ; how dost thou ?
my rapier. Quick. ‘ ne better, that it pleases your good
soln I rood master, be content. worship to ask,
¢ ia. Ver fore shall I be centent-a? | Lent. What news? how does pretty mistress
ick. The young man is an honest man. Anne? g
Cetus. Vat abel’ honest mandoinmycloset?| Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and

; lef *eyyY T 1 ‘nee?
dere is no hon "St Min Cat sna come in my Ctosé

honest, and gentle: and one that is your frie nd, [
Quick. I beseech you, be not so fleematic : hear!/ean tell you that by the way ; I praise heaven for it.
Wick. a f)} Ou, Di } O iC? ] . : ; ;
the truth of it: he came of an errand to me from Fent. Shall I do: any good, thinkest thou 2 Shall
i¢* ahi J ‘ i ’ ’ ‘

rson Hugh. [ not lose my suit ? i
" Gc a Vell | Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above: but

a ow G . : :

S 7 Ay, forsooth, to desire her to—— notwithstanding, master Fenten, Pll be sworn ona

l Or on, tT ICSIT ICT t

Quick p ce, | pray you book, she loves you :—Have not your worship a
mck. Feace, | pri ou. , ,

"al -—Speak-a your tale.| wart above your eve

Caius. Peace-a your tonguc Speak-a your tale. JOUr eye | am | po

Sim To desire this honest rentlawoman, you Fent. Yes, nancy, have I what of that 7

‘ . . . © Yn ¢ ‘ * ? ¢ j
mail, to speak a good word to mistress Anne Page, Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tal jG 00G faith,
, g

; ryyt se ae
‘Ty . oa i : ee . > pox!
(1) Brave. 3 ) The keeper of au warren, | (4) lhe goujere, what the pox
\
3): col led, re} rT hel ie fousOe Se ee

 

  

59 MERRY WIVE

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 allicholly? and musing: but for you—
Well, go 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 before me, commend me—

Quick. Will 1? Pfaith, that we will: and I will
tell your worship more of the wart, the next time
sve have confidence ; and of other wooers.

Fent. Well, farewell; Iam in great ne BOW,

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 :—
Ont upon’t ! what have I forgot? { Exit.

—@-—
ACT II.
SCENE I.—Before Page’s house. Enter Mis-

tress Page, with a letter.

Mrs. Page. What! have I ’scaped love-letters
in the holy-day time of my beauty, and am I now
a subject for them? Let me sce: [reads.

Ask me no reason why I love you; for though
love use reason for his precisian,*® he admits hum
not for his counsellor: You are not young, ro
more am I; go to then, there’s sympathy : you
are merry, soam I; ha! ha! then there's more
sympathy: you love sack, and so do I; would
you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee,
mistress Page (at the least, uf the love of a soldier
can suffice,) that I love thee. I will not say, pity
me, ’lis not a soldier-like plrase ; but I say, love
me. By me,

Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might,
Wor thee to fight,
John Falstaff.

What a Herod of Jewry is this !—O wicked,
wicked world!—one that is well nigh worn to
ieces with age, to show himselfa young gallant !
Vhat an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish
drunkard picked (with the devil’s name) out of my
conversation, that he dares in this manner “assay
me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my compa-
ny!—What should I say to him ?—I was then
frugal of my mirth :—heaven forgive me !—Why,
Vl exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting
down of men. How shall I be revenged on him?
for revenged [ will be, as sure as his guts are mad:
of puddings.

Enter Mistress Ford.

Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page! trust me, I was

going to your house.

Mrs. Page. And, trust me, I was coming to|

you, You look very ill.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne’er believe that ; I have) S'©4SY knight :

to show to the contrary.
: <5 ‘ . °
Mrs, Page. ’Faith, but you do, in my mind.

Mrs. Ford. Well, I do then; yet, I say, I could

(2) Melancholy.

i She means, I protest,

Most probably Shakspeare wrote Physician,

S OF WINDSOR. Act Lf.

show you to the contrary: 9, inistress Page, give
me some counsel !

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. Paze. 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. Pare. What ?—thou liest !—sir Alice
Ford!——'hese 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 aneye to
|make difference of men’s liking: and yet he would
Inot swear; praised women’s modesty: and gave
isuch orderly and well-behaved reproof to all un-
|comeliness, that I would have sworn his disposition
| would have gone to the truth of his w ords: but they
‘do no more adhere and keep place together, than
ithe hundredth psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves.
| What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so
‘many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor?
| How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best

way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked
fire of lust have melted him in his own grease. Did
you ever hear the like ?

Mrs. Page. Letter for letter; but that the name
of Page and Ford diflers!—To thy great comfort
in this mystery of ill opinions, here’s the twin
brother of thy letter: but let thine inherit first; for,
[ protest, mine never shall. I warrant, he hath a
thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for
different names (sure more,) and these are of the
second edition: he will print them out of doubt:
for he cares not what he puts into the press, when
he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess,
}and lie under mount Pelion. Well, lL will find you
itwenty lascivious turtles, ere one chaste man. r
| .Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same; the
very hand, the very words: what doth he think of us?
| Jrs. Page. Nay, I know not: it makes me al-
‘most ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. Pll
lentertain myself like one that 1 am not acquainted
}withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in
ime, that I know not myself, he would never have
boarded me in this fury.

Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call you it 1

to keep him above deck,

 

’ T'll be sure

“¥ . ee 9
Mi v Pag . so will I; if he come under my
iaiches, Pil never to sea again. Let’s be revenged
1 ce s ° , . ° . =
on him: let's appoint him a mecting; give him a
show of comfort in his suit; and lead him on with
}a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn’d his horses
to mine host of the Garter.
Mrs. Ford. Nav, I will consent to act any yil-

lany against him, that may not sully the chariness*
of our honesty. QO, that my husband saw this let-
iter . it would give eternal food to his jealousy,

| JUrs. Page. W hy, look, where he comes and
imy good man too: he’s as far from jealousy, as I
‘am from giving him cause ; and that, I hope, is an
lunmeasurable distance, wth Ae
Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman.

Mrs. Page. Let’s consult together against this
come hither. _ [ They retire.

Enter Ford, Pistol, Page, and Nym,
Ford, Well, ' hope, it be not so,

(4) Caution,Scene I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Sa

oh
Pist. Hope is a curtail! rg ms '}
Sir John es thy — de in some aff Lirs : = his intent towards our W ives, are a yoke of his
: ‘ discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of
Ford, Why, sir, my wife is not young. service : . : J
4 vw iorh ¢ * 3 > .
Pist. = woos both high and low, both rich and Ford. Were they his men?
OC rs P . Nia - is a ‘
are, arry, were they
Both young and o wit! other, Ford : ‘ord ; cs P
young d old, one vith another, | ord ; _ ford, I like never the better for that.—Does
He loves thy {r; lly-mawir i Ford, re rpend,? he lie at the Garter?
Ford. Love my wife? aa ndiiote P ;
Pist. With liv br ad Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend
ist. r bur rhot: preve! rqgothou./this vove towards 7 if
ede an vet ) ier at *: prevent, or gothou, this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her
AK fon he, With Ning-wood at thy heels: /loose to him; and what he gets more of her than
i) odious j is thie name ! : j ; .
FP 1, What hei » words, let it lie on my head.
rd, at na \ Sil ro rowil
Pi LT mt nl ae a ; Ford. | do not misdoubt my wife; but I would
Ss e i>? sa ° teu ' +} . :
Take | : : a olives gga _ |be loth to turn them together: A man may be too
f : % » Sriryit wy ‘ ’ ‘1 ; \ ‘ ' ’ . sf «
ike heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds d niident : I would have nothing lie on my ‘head: [
sing.— nnot be thus satish I.
i iil Isiie?
wa ‘corpora m.-
= lie : a ? rporal Nym. at Page. Look, where my r 7 y "~ of the Gar-
as ve ? age ; he speaks sense. _[Evit Pistol.|ter comes: there is eitl - liquor j in his pate, or
af P \ ; » Pavoni? ve 1 : . 4 . ; 1 .
iA Whi thin pau - | aa Ml OU : rin fi | sc, woen he ae 80 merrily,—
«Ym And thi is Ul 4 i ra : L ial not! ti ' iv, mine host /
the humour of bells wo rat ith wrone’d me u :
humours; I should hav rhe | nol ;
; ould Nave borne t Min red let. enter Host and Shallow.
ter to her: but I have a sword, and it shall |
upon my necessity. tle loves \ r wife: there’ Host
| ' ; ir wife ; ‘ ost. How now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentle
the short and the fone. Mv ne * te ; iat a ook? thou’rt a gentle
l speak, and | avouch. Tis tru mv} i ie | ell ry p .
and ofial. I tollow, mine host, I follow.—Good even
Nym, and Falstaff loves \ wife.__A 2) T lov , ; : :
ogee é 4 Uv LW v. | master Page! Master I age, will
\ i a r oO i « : if ‘ ‘ }
; i : pwilh u | ive sport har
the humour of it. Ad j Nis ; na ae tin i sd. ;
Pa ia T i ‘ , » i , CUVal jUSUCE 5 tell him, bully-
low frichts humour out ; wit af —" . .
: rig , 4 veal ; re ms a fray to be fought, between
Page. | » : i a. vy i priest, and Caius the French
~ « ‘ : | !
rovue., i _ ‘ 1 :
Ford. If 1 do find it 1} : »G mi host o’ the Garter, a word
Dow ill mnt tat ‘ is : ‘ : ; % . '
‘) f Gre. | tg : a ve i { 2 I, ; Hi : \\ ut t t th nu. b Uly-rook f
a 2 lest 0 L ¢ mi | Lhey go aside.
1 sie 2 é Ww rou | e]| go with us to behold
Ford. "Twas a good sensible fellow: Wel! b 2. : host } t+} ; P
Pp. ss “ : my} hat! ad t the measuring of their
a2'e. iow | We ; ; ; t} nls } } +} : ;
Vy p os \" 7 - ' a Linh ne hath appointed them
‘ Urs, Sale. yoincr go you, & hail ¥ | ior, believe me, | hear, the par-
‘ou. 3] }
yo ee at 1 | % ; is - Hark, 1 will tell you what our
thou melancholy, Zz / fae? thor : ji { : .
Ford i melanchow! | m not} ; ler’: mg Pe ! "' no suit against my knight, my
Get ¥ | c. ro | ' ’
ya ‘3 m i . os i om , | protest: but I'll give you a pottle
_ Mrs. rd. ith, 1 has e crots 3} t sack to give me recourse to him, and tell
thy head now.—W ill you go, mis § Page my name is Brook - lv for a jest
iV p - ; \ } ; is b KR: only io a jest,
in age ive wilh ¥ ‘ I f wa ne | | } ;
we a ge. ; with Hiost. My hand, bully: thou shalt have erress
ne P i : we? rye ‘ r ns hl ' q : 9 | ‘
shall b wwe oe es as . a ess; said | well? and thy name shall be
shall be our mess¢ r is ps y knig y | Brook: It is a merry knight.—Will you go on,
lel f Mi iy ; { f ;
= 5 ; bist as Shal, Have with vou, mine host,
Enter Mistress Quickly. _ Page. | have heard, the Frenchman hath good
Alil I fy ra. pier.
ae Wek Jn thy ht an hers shall! Lod Om ie
‘ Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I though 1} her: it} Shel, Tut, sir, 1 could have told you more: In
it it. these times you stand on distance,
| } an 1 Gistaner your passes
Mrs. Page. You are come to sce my daughter!stoccadoes, and I | ads 8 Poor?
Mrs. Page. i toh ccadoes, an cnow not what: ‘ts the heart,
Anne 1 , fs aig 3 | master Page ; ’tis here, ’tis here. I have seen the
Quick. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does|time, with my y long swe rd, I would have made you
good mistress Ann . four tall® {cllows skip like rats,
Mrs. Page. Go in with us, ; nd see; we have an Host. Here, boys, her: , here! shall we wag?
. o th wre J nore - +1 ' ‘ hh ‘ ;
ee ve) er Mrs. Quiel Pa *, Have with you :—I had rather hear them
[ Exe. Mrs. Pege, rs. rd, and Urs. Quick. !seco!d than fight.
; r ; LOW ria <t r ‘ard ’ - .
Page. How nov , maste I rd a [ Exeunt Host, Shallow, end Page.
by enn vhat t) a nee cid a "Th anal ’ ,
Ford. 1 uu heard what this knav id me; did Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands
you not? — ee {89 i rmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off
Page. Yes; and you heard what the other told my opinion so « ~ : She was in his company at
me ? Page's house ; and, what they made® there. ‘Tknow
Ford. Do you think there is truth in them ? not. Well, I ‘will le iol further into’t: and I havea

Page. Hang ’em, slaves! I do not think the/disguise to sound Falstaff: If T find her honest, I

} +} tap of « ‘ — ; | tT : ;
knight would offer it: but these that accuse him lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, tis labour

well bestowed. { Exit,
(1) A dog that misses his game. (2) A medley.
(3) Consider. (4) A lying sharper. (5) Stout, bold, (6) Did,give you, and all of us, I pray!
Fal. Mistress Y ord—come, mistress Ford.

(1) Pay you again in stolen goods.
2) Draws along with you.
3) To cut purses in a crowd.

Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of another’s mind, and the boy never nee¢

4) Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell. (5) Protect.

 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
    
   

a

Hi BA MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act L.

ET : ‘ oe such a canaries,” as

a SCENE I.— 4 room in the Garter Inn. Enter|it; you have brought her np SUC Se

Ei SINE —— rere 96 cinerea ortr® The hest cot tier of them all when

F } P Falstaff and Pistol. | tis wond¢ rfcl. rhe be st we ’ of . ri oe
ithe court lay at Windsor, could i ver have og

f Fa. [will not lend thee a penny. ‘her to such acanary. Yet there has been krughts,

and gentlemen, with their coaches ;

and lords,

F | Pist. Why, then the world’s mine oyster,
: | Which I with sword will open.— jwarrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter,
t I will retort the sum in equipege." i ieift after gilt ; smelling so sweetly (all musk,) and
I Fal, Nota penny. I have been content, Sir, YOU! sg rushling, | warrant you, 1M silk and gold ; and
| should lay my countenance to pawn: J have grat-jin such allkgant terms ; and in such wine and sugar
| ed upon my good friends for three repricyes for you| of the best, and the fairest, that would have won
and your coach-fellow? ym; OF, clse you had any woman’s heart ; and, [ warrant you, they could
Jooked through the graic like a gcmin)y of baboons. | never get an eye-wink of her.—] had myself‘twenty
I am damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my |angels given me this morning: but I defy all angels
friends, you were good soldicrs, and tall fellows :} (jn any such sort, as they say,) but in ihe way of
and when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her|honesty :—and, I warrant you, they could never get
' fan, I took’t upon my honour, thou hadst it not. |her so much as sip, on a cup W ith the proudest of
Pi Pist. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not fif-|them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, which
| teen pence ? as is more, pensioners ; but, | warrant you, all is one
pHi Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason: T hink’st thou, | with her.
ti Yl endanger my soul gralts / Ataword, hang no| Fal, But what says she to me? be brie f, my good
| more about me, I am no gibbet for you :—g -—A|she Mercury.
ii short knife and a throng :*—to your manor ol Pickt-| Quick. Marry, she hath received your letter ,
| hateh,* go.—You’ll not bear a letter for me, you|for the which she thanks you a thousand times ;
| rogue !—you stand upon your honour !_Why, thou|and she gives you to notify, that her husband will
i unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do, to!}.. absence from his house between ten and eleven
7 keep the terms of my honour precise. I,l,Imy-| Fal. Ten and eleven?
fi self somctimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the Quick. Ay, forsooth; and then you may come
. left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, and see the picture, she says, that you wot’ of —
am fain to shufiie, to hedge, and to lureh ; nn ye master Ford. her husband, will be from home.
you, rogue, will ensconce® your rags, your cal-a-| Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him ;
: mountain looks, your red-lattice® phrases, and your |he’s a very jt alousy man: she leads a very fram-
a bold-beating oaths, under the shelt r of your ho-| nol? life with him, good heart.
i nour! You will not do it, you: Fal. Ten and cleven? Woman, commend me to
Pist. I do relent ; What would’st thou more of her ; J will not fail her.
man ! Quick. \\ ny, YOu Say We ll: But ] have another
: i ia messenger to your worship : Mistress Page hath
Enter Robin. lher hearty commendations (6. you toc $< ane Gene
Rod. Sir, here’s a woman W ould : peak with you. ar you Mm your ear, she’sa 3 fartuous a civil medest
Fal. Let her approach. ea eee ee ({ tell you) that will not miss your
morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor,
Enter Mistress Quickly. whoe’er be the other: and sh : bade me tell your
worship, that her husband is seldom from home ;
Quick. Give your worship good-morrow. but, she hopes, there will come a time. Il never
Fal. Good-morrow, good wile. knew a woman so dote upon aman: surely, I think
Quick. Not so, an’t please your worship. you have charms, la; yes, in truth.
Fal. Good maid, then ! Fal. Not B I assure thee: se {tine the attraction
Quick. Pll be sworn; as my mother was, the of my rood parts aside, I | le a aan i
first hour I was born. - ie, 2 Have no Other Charms.
Fal. I do believe the swearer: What with me? Quick. Blessing on your heart for’t!
Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word Fal, But, I pray thee, tell me this; has Ferd’s
or two? wife, and Page’s wife, aequainted each other how
Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I'll vouch- they love m« .
safe thee the hearing. Quick. That were a jest, indeed '—thev have not
Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir ;—I pray, |so little grace, | hope :—that were a tr ick, indeed!
come a little nearer this ways:—I myself dwell But mistress Page would desire you to send ‘woh
with master doctor Caius. your little page, of all lov nor hirchatadl tata
Fal. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say,—— marvellous infection to the little page : and, truly
Quick. Your worship says very true: | pray your master Pace is an honest man. Never a wife :
worship, come a little nearer this Ways. Windsor leads a better life than she does: do what
Fal. \ warrant thee, nobody hears ;—mine own she w ill, say what she will, take all, pay aii. one e
, people, mine own people. bed when she list, rise when she list. all is as she
Quick. Are they so? Heaven bless them, and)will; and truly she deserves it: for if the ee
make them his servants! kind woman in Windsor, she is one You must
Fal. Well: mistress Ford ;—what of her ? send her your page; no remed —'
Quick. Why, sir, she’s a good creature. Lord,,; Fal. Why, I will.
lord! your worship’s a wanton: Well, heavenfor-| Quick. Nay, but do so then: and, look you. he

VO hoth -

may come and go betwe
lease have

n
a nay-word,!! tha

ul and, in any
you may know one
{ to under

4

(6) Ale-house.
(7) A mistake of Mrs. Quickly’s for au
(8) Know. (9) Fretful, peevish
(10) By all means,

7)y)

} .
iaary,

(11) A watch-word,Scene IT. MERRY WIVES

stand any thing; for ’lis not good that children
should know any wickedness; old folks, vou 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 alone with this woman.- This news dis-
tracts me ! [Aereunt Quickly anid Robin.
Pist. This punk is one of Cupid’s carriers :-—

Clap on more sails: pursue, up with vour fi
Give fire; she is my prize, or ocean whel
all! | eaxtl

rhits :

Fal. Say'st thou S0, old Jack? ry) thy Wiovys

Itt make more of thy old bedy than I have
Will they yet look afer thee? Wilt thou.
|

tr) expense ot So mt mone. uc now a «e

.

: } | ; 3) TT

(rood body, Lthank thee: Le them Sav, “Ls g
1 : ; ‘

vonc ; so it be fairly done, no matter

Bard. Sir John, there’s one master Broo!
Ww ild fain s k with ¥y mu, ard be ae mil
you : ne 1 sent your worship !
draught of sacl

Fal. B k, 18 hist ic /

Bard. Ay, s

Fel. Call him in; [Exit Bardolph.}
Brooks welcot to me, that « }
Ah! ' :
| ve | ‘ you roto: 1

Ford. 1 make bold, to | ith so li
pa won tp ul. ;
a You’ velcor What's ' '
us leave, drawer E.

I L or, § n a I
Tl cry my nam is Bri

} {4s in s B ; 7
4 yy ;

my seit | i
’ Vy te ; ’ ’
i . i} ’ '

} 1} VW q

11 i
: . rT '
ri
/ . : i | ‘ | |
. rts
; ;
- 7 i :
Ford. 1 will 1 . : 1 Will
4% ; tall
if :
: : r ] 1}
ba iM A. , i
to be your s vant
ie sit | y ( I
4 } +9
brief with you you
le kn rv t iW I } ' ,
Mm > < : f , ’ : i :
| .
; :
, l it i v \ ‘
‘
j part sy vy I 1! ; ;
7
| : | “ir . “ ¥ i
; :
follies, as you hear 1u
into t revrister ol vou ; } I [ Im ’
- 7
1 re i in i sicr, Sil y a. AnOV
; ‘ ; i ; y fie |
caAsy | mtooves il i Ui

7
! with
Lil S
» !
+}
i
’
Crit
4

OF WINDSOR. 55

Fal. Very well, sir; proceed.

Ford. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her
husband's name is Ford,

Fal. Well, sir.

Ford. 1 have long loved her, and, I protest to
you, bestowed much on her; followed her with a
doting observance ; engrossed opportunities to
meet her; fee’d every slight oecasion, that could
but niggardly give me sight of her: not only
bought many presents to give her, but have given
largely to many, to know what she would have
given: briefly, I have pursued her, as love hath
pursued me; which hath been, on the wing of all
ecasions. But whatsover I have merited, either
in my mind, or in my means, meed,* I am sure, I
have received none ; unless experience be a jewel :
that T have purchased at an infinite rate ; and that
natn taught me to say this :

Love like a shadow flies, when substance love pur-
sues: :
Pursuing iat that flies, and flying what pursues,

Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfac-

t11oOn nt ner h mds

Fal. Have you importuned her to such a pur-

} Nove
Fal, Of what quality was your love then ?
Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another

und; so that I have lost my edifice, by
eC fF lace where I erected it,
Fal. ‘To what purpose have you unfolded this

Ford. When I have told you that, I have told
tall. Some say, that, though she appear honest

yet, in other places, she enlargeth her

irth so far, that there is shrewd construction

made of her. Now, sir John, here is the heart of

y purpose: You are a gentleman of excellent

r. lmirable discourse, of great admit-

ct iuthentie in your pl ice and person, rvenc-

ily allowed® for your many warlike, court-like,
lent | preparations

Fal. O. sir!

Ford. Believe it, for you know it:—There is

pend it, spend it : spend more ; spend

| have; only cive me so much of your lime in

ol it, s to lay an amiable siege to the
nesty of this Ford's wife: use your art of wooing,

nher to consent to you; if any man may, you

Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of

your allection, that | should win what you would

Methinks, you prescribe to yourself very
terously.

Ford. O, understand my drift! she dwells so

irely on the excellency of her honour, that
folly of my soul dares not pre sent itself; she is

» bricht to be looked arainst. Now, could Icome
to her with any detection in my hand, my desires
rad instance and argumentto commend themselves -
| could drive her then from the ward® of her purity,
er reputation, her marriage-vow, and a th yusand
r her defences, which now are too strongly
mbattled inst me; What say you to’t, sir

Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with
your money; next, give me your hand; and last,

[ama gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy
Ford’s wile.

(4) In the greatest companies, (5) Approved.
(6) Guard,

   
  
 
      
 
 
   
   
  
     
  
   
   
 
   
   
  
     
 
 
   
    
  
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
     
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
 

mintienei ie tls title.
squebaugh. (4) Fence
Terms in fencing, daha:

|
(2) Contented cuckold. |
}

   

eae
| 56 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act I,
te
a ‘ . i i
i Ford. O good sir! | Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no
al. Fal. Master Brook, I say you shall. icome ; he has pray his Pible yell, dat he 1s no
ae Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall want come ; by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if
F none. he be come.
i . f ‘ i . . Sa r .
Pe Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, vou! tug. He 1s wise, Sir: he knew your worshi
y 4 i ene : ae -
bi | shall want none. I shall be with her (I may tell would kill him, if he came.
i ou,) by her own appointment ; even as you came Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill
@ in to me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from kill him. ‘Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you
E | me: I say, I shall be with her between ten and|how I vill kill him.
a eleven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence,
. ? . 7 J ? , fi . : ;
| her husband, will be forth. Come you to Ine at Caius. Viilain-a, take your rapier.
| night ; you shall know how I speed. | Rug. Forbear; here’s company.
| ord. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you
Fi mow Ford, sir ? Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and Page.
Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know
him not :—yet I wrong him, to call him poor; they Host. ’Bless thee, bully doctor.
say, the jealous wittoily Inave hath masses of| Sal. Save you, master doctor Caius.
By money; for the which his wife seems to me well- Page. Now, good master doctor !
favoured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldls Slen. Give you good-morrow, sir.
f Hy rogue’s coffer; and there’s my harvest-hom is. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come
Wh Ford. 1 would you knew Ford, - that you|*!
4 if | might avoid him, if you saw him. _ Host. To e fight, to see thee foin,* to see
ote Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I traver O St ice here, to see thee there ;
‘| will stare him out of his wits ; [ will awe him e thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse,
my cudgel: it shall hang like a met 0 t] distance, thy montant.* Is he dead, my Ethi-
i cuckold’s horns: master Brook, thou It kno : ( 1, my Francisco? ha, bully !
qh I will predominate o’er the peasant, and thou y\ sculapius ? my Galen? my heart
4 lie with his wife.—Come to me soon at night :—|“* ©) is he dead, bully Stale? is he dead )
| ’ Si ° / ’ . ad {
aa Ford’s a knave, and I will aggravate his stil , he is de coward Jack priest of
|} thou master Brook, shalt know him fora knave ““ rid: he is not sh his face,
} and cuckold :—come to me soon at nicht f Host. ‘I a lian® king, Urinal! Hec-
. kg What a damned Epicurean rascal is thi my boy!
i" 1 mbes ar 1c Y« * oe siz warat! ~ ° f y : - ;
te Who heart is ready to crack with 1mpatience— ' . I pray you, bear witness that me have
Piel O says, this is improvident iealousy ? J} : or seven, two, tree ] “s fi j :
; it J ly y » U hours for him, and he
wait sent to him, the hour is fixed, 1 » com ’ :
made. Would any man have t! i the wiser
an} an have t iser man, master doc : hel
the hell of having a false woman! m curer ol Ly Fa -of — pe™
y g i man! mv] tls, and you a curer of bodies; if you
e abused, my coffers ransacked, m ud f i go against the hair of y oro
gnawn at; and I shall not only: 3 ¥ ns: 15 1 not! true, master Page? ae
nous wrong, but stand under the adopti fis vi hallow, you have you If 1
nable terms, and by him that does me t] Lug though now aman of a _
Terms! names!——Amaimon sound fo at. BD master Page, tl “1 2
cifer, well; Barbason, well; yet t] fevi ld d of the peace, if Is e agin, arg -
additions, the names of fiends: but it aut kes Gen dnt? t] ak a sword out, my
tol? cuekold! the devil himself hath eT dharciunen Sonor eee
“atin Page ™ a ass, cecil cia | 3 - re é . a en, maser I ave, We
< : , ‘ l cure {i lb OL OU! yuULA Ly 3: > are the enone
his wife, he will not be jealou Iv master Pa oa Pe 5. OR Ne eee
trust a Ileming with my butt nce “Tis true, master Shall
Welshman with my cheese, an Irish: ae é a ll be found so. ma ee Daw
aquavitz? bottle, or a thief to wal! Sai ctor Cau lam ec - ' 4 ? : er Page. Master
: 7. ae WY ALAS LD MUS, tal yme to fetch y hame :
gelding, than my wife with herself: then she plot vorn of t eace: you h i um BOR. lam
a) a n nHlo } i ‘ \ Ile ; P
then she ruminates, then she devis i whai| Wise physici m. and air Pas ae yourself a
they think in their hearts they may ¢ er 1 plies wi nA x ch oF aoa’ ‘ugh lath shown himself
will break their hearts but they will effect. Lh “et er ea hman: you must go with
be praised for my jealousy (leven atc] ad Host. Pardon. cuest justice :—A : :
hour; I will prevent this, detect my wife, b ~_,. | Muck-water ? ee a a
venged on Falstaff, and laugh at Pa e. T wil]| Caius. Muck-vater! vat is dat ?
about it ;i better three hours 100 ' than H NMouck-water bia: zp se.
minute too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! nelala 1; Valour, bully ‘nglush tongue, is
cuckold ! itech Cai t]
LJ Bo} then I have as much muck-vater
\ . coe Sa NAN -OCUrV) jack-dog Dr sf | ;
SCENE UI.— Windsor Park. Ent f in ar, me vill cut his ears " © ~ priest ! by
. ai Van ry ry ioe ; 1
and Rugby. a ; Le will clapper-claw thee tichtly, bully
Caius. Jack Rugby ! Host. That is, he will make thee mendes
. . \ nee by Pay oe a us,
Rug. Sir. a, ws. By gar, me do look, he shall cla) |
° ay o fre } vps sath iL} -tl¢e
Carus, Vat is de clock, Jack 9 Li 7" me; for, by gar, me vill have it pper-de-
. ‘ . j fost } , ut '' . :
Rug. Tis past the hour sir that sir H oval : | i And ] will provoke him to’t é ; .
mised to meet. ? y WAL SI ugh pro-| wag. n to’t, or let him
4 us, Me tank you for dat
‘ ANG moreover 1} Pos
,» bully,—But tuct master

ant term for Spaniard
Jrain of a dungchill.

_— omScene I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 57

guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero Slender.! Eva. Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep
go you through the town to Frogmore. it in your arms, oe
jal id to t/ bs

) . > S . . ’ .

Page, Sir Huch is there, is he? Enter Pace, Shallow, end Slender.

Host. He is there: see what humour | is In:
and I will bring the doctor about by the field : wil Shal. How now, master 1
it do well } f ¥ tH ign. he yi {

Shal. We will do it. | ,

Page, Shal. and Slen. Adieu, ; i master doctor. ll.

[Ereunt Page, Shallow, ‘Slende ‘ . Ah, sweet Anne Page!

Catws. By car, me vill kill di t: for } P . Save you, good sir Huch!
speak {or a) Mt Keil Th-fity » Anne | . i ; i Vf i Hl US mercy sake, all of you !

Host. Let him die: but, first, sheath thy i - » What! t sword and the world! do you
tience; throw cold water on ¢{! . 4 it # 7 en F
the helds with me throuch | - j P ca youthful still, is your doublet and
thee where Mrs. Anne Pave is, at a { - » | matic day? —

feasting : and thou shalt woo rs: Cry; : , ns and causes for it.

;

parson ? Good morrow,
ramester from the dice,
irom his book, and it Is Won-

I well? on come to you, to do a good office,
Caius. By gar, me tank vou f lat: by r. | ;

love you; and I shall ure=a 5 Eva. | l: what is it

de earl, de knight, de lords, ¢ my i verend gentleman, who

patients, ¥ some person, is
Host. For the which, I will be t ity and patience,

and upward ;
gravity, and

; . — Pe
ee i } i ; 20 er doctor

ACT Tl. j . n of my he art? l
[ mess of pore
SCENE I.— 4 field ‘FY
Hug 1 Eva a s } ;
ive in Hibocrates
Era. I pray you now, | ; _ ' sides ; a cowardly
serving-man, d friend Si | tobeacq nted witha
which way have you looked for master | ay nd , he’s the m ould fight
ealls himself Doctor of Pix
Sim, Marry, sir, the city-ward, | r ; ! ts i :
every way: old Win
the town way. es
Eva. I most fehem ly d Lal
look that wary.
Sim. I will, sir.
Eva. *Piess my soul! | full of « ' | pP N parson, ki

and trempling of mind !—!

ep in your

deceived me:—how

knog his urinals about his knave’ tard, 1 7 2 let t question; let

have good opportunities for the ’ | | whole, and hack our English.

soul! & f , let-a } peak a word vit
To shallow rivers, to whose | | ; i i not meet~a me?
Melodious hivcde s ie madriy j i r ’ ; ‘ ey . In rood time.
There wil we make o ‘ : ; A as coward, de Jack dog,

; ; “a .
ind a tho rd in? ‘4 . ? let I | hi
2. j u | not | Lughing-stogs to
To shallow——— in friendshi
ther men’s - J ‘you in friendship,
inmake you amends :—
iv a ls about your knave’s
vs » for} your meetings and appoint-

Mercy on me! [have ac : ai . —
Melodionus hirds-sine
When as ] sal in Pal :
Jind a thousand fragrant pe ‘ Dial ack R

*y” ; 3,7 : :
To hawiouw— - | . \ ly

Sim. Yonder he ts coming, | way, Hug! aut, ;
E . i rs o i is | { soul, now, look you,
va, e's welcome :—— se os ,

: is t - Pil be ‘udement by

by,—mine Host de
. kill him ? have

|
To shallow rivers, to whose falls—— i. :
a Fost. P oe . Guallia and Gaul, French
Heaven prosper the right t= VV hat we ' :

i ‘ . .e awantl +7
. . : rh ; { .} \ \ Od: eXCeCLlie€nt !
Sim No weapons, Sif: There comes my i aicT. : . ’ > . > ‘
a : \ ‘ a Host. Peace, I *mine host of the Gar-

master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frog- |
e li

he stile, this wa) am I subtle? am I a Machia-
more, over the Stlic, Uuls way.

(1) Head, ) Bab: ( L, the first line of the 137th Psalm,
II

en eeER BETS

58 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

vel? Shall I lose my doctor? no; he gives me the
potions, andthe motions. Shall I lose my parson ?
my priest ? my sir Hugh? no; he gives me the
pro-verbs and the no-verbs.—Give me thy hand,
terrestrial ; so:—Give me thy hand, celestial ; so. |

 

__—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 peace ; tollow, follow, follow. |

Shal. Trust me, a mad host:—Follow, gentle-|
men, follow.

Slen. O, sweet Anne Page!

[Exeunt Shal. Slen. Page, and Host. |

Caius. Ha! dol perceive dat? have you make-|
a de sot! of us? ha, ha!

Eva. This is well; he has made us his vlouting-|
stog.2—I desirc you, that we may be friends ; and
Jet us knog our prains together, to be revenge on
this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the
host of the Garter.

Caius. By gar, vit all my heart; he promise
to bring me vere is Anne Page: by gar, he de-
ecive me too.

Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles :—Pray
you, follow. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—The Sireet in Windsor.

Mrs. Page and Robin.

 

Enter

Mrs, Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ;
rou were wont to be a follower, but now you are a
cae: Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes,
or eye your master’s heels ?

Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you lik
a man, than follow him like a dwarf.

Mrs. Page. O you are a flatiering boy ;
see, you'll be a courtier,

Enter Ford.

now, |

Ford. Well met, mistress Page: Whither go
you?

Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife:
at home ?

Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together,
for want of company: I think, if your husbands
were dead, you two would marry.

Mrs. Page. Be sure of that,—two other hus-
bands.

Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock ?

Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his
name is my husband had him of: What do you
call your knight’s name, sirral

Rod. Sir John Falstatl.

Ford. Sir John Falstaff!

Mrs. Page. He, he: I can never hit on’s name.
There is such a league between my good man
and he !—Is your wife at home, indeed ?

Ford. Indeed, she is.

Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir ;—I am sick, till
I sec her. |Exeunt Mrs. Page and Robin.

Ford. Was Page any brains? hath he any eyes?
hath he any thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath
no use ofthem. Why, this boy will carry a letter
twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point-
blank twelve score. He pieces-out his wife’s in-|
clination ; he gives her folly motion, and advan-)
tage: and now she’s going to my wife, and Falstaff’s|
poy with her. A man may hear this shower sing!
wn the wind !—and Falstafl’s boy with her !—Good|

(1) Fool. (2) Flouting-stock,
(4) Shall encourage.

Is she

’
i

}
if

(3) Specious,

land to these violent proceedings all my

Act Ul.

 

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-
vulee Pace himself for a secure and wilful Actzon ;
[ neighbours
shall ery aim.* [Clock strikes.| The clock gives
me my cue, and my assurance bids me search ;
there I shall find Falstaff: I shall be rather praised
for this, than mocked; for it 1s as positive as the
earth is firm, that Falstaff is there: I will go.

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh
Evans, Caius, and Rugby.

Shal. Pare, &c. Well met, master Ford.

Ford. Trust me, a good knot: I have good
cheer at home; and, I pray you, all go with me.

Shal. I must excuse myself, master Ford.

Slen. And so must I, sir; we have appointed

‘to dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break

with her for more money than I'll speak of.

Shal. We have linger’d about a match between
Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day
we shall have our answer.

Slen. I h pe, I have your good-will, father
Pace.

Pace. You have, mast
ly for you:—but my wi
yu altoge ther.

Caius. Ay, by gar; and de maid is love-a me ;
my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush.

Host. What say you to young master Fenton ?
he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he
writes verses, he speaks holiday,* he smells April
and May: he will carry’t, he will carry’t; ’tis in
his buttons: he will carry’t.

Page, Not by my consent, I promise you. The
centlemen is of no having :® he kept company with
the wild Prince and Poins: he is of too high a re-
rion, he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a
knot in his fortunes with the finger of my sub-
if he take her, let him take her simply
the wealth I have waits on my consent, and my
consent goes not that way. ; :

Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go
home with me to dinner: besides your cheer, you
shall have sport; I will show you a monster,——
Master doctor, you shall go -—so shall you, master
Page :—and you, sir Hugh. +...

Shall. Well, fare you well:—we shall have the

freer wooing at master Page’s.

[Exeunt Shallow and Slends rs

John Rugby; I come anon.
[Exit Rueby.

Host. Farewell, my hearts: I will to my honest
knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him.

[Evi Host,

Ford. [.@side.] I think, I shall drink in pipe.

ine first with him; V’ll make him dance. Will
you fro, @&t ntles ?

ill. Have with you, to see this monster.

Exrewnt.

Slender: I stand whol-
master doctor, is for

I
,
iC,

stance :

Caius. Go home,

7 an Al “ry > . .
¢ EWN EB Iil.— room in Ford's hon sé. Enter

Jlrs. Ford and Urs. Pare

Mrs. Ford. What, John! what, Robert!

Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly : is the buck
basket— :

Mrs. Ford. I warrant :—what, Robin, I say,

(5) Out of the common style, (6) Not rich,scene JI, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 59
Enter Servants with a basket. Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there’s no such thing

Mrs. Page. Come, come, come. inh ine. ;
Mrs, Ford. Here. act 4 down Fal. What made me love thee? let that per-
Mrs. Paz Give vour men the charee: we SUade thee, there’s something extraordinary in thee.
minat he trie! Come, I cannot cog, and say, thou art this and
Mrs. Ford. Marry, as I told vou before, John, t8®t like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds,
and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brew. '2*t come like women in men’s apparel, and smell
house: and when I suddenly call vou. come forth. |‘Ke Bucklersbury® in simple-time ; I cannot: but

yu (without any pause or stagecring.) take thi L love thee ; none but thee: and thou deservest it.
basket on your shoulders: that done, trudge with Mrs. Ford, Do not betray me, sir; I fear, you
it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters! in love mistress Page. |
Datehct Mead, and there empty it in the muddy , Fal. Thou might’st as well say, I love to walk
diich, close by the Thames’ side. “ by the Counter*-gate ; which Is as hateful to me as

Mrs. Pare. You will do it ? the rev k of a Jime-Kiln,

Mrs. Ford. 1 have told them over and over: Urs. Ford. Well, he aven knows, how I love
they lack no direction: be gone. and come when J°U5, 224 you shall one day find it.
you are calicd. 1 Exeunt Servants, 44 Keep inthat mind; Pll deserve it.
a ag ttle Bahin oli . Ford, Nay, I must te Il you, so you do ; or

. ise I could not be in that mind,
Enter Robin. Rob. (within.) Mistress Ford, mistress Ford !

’

here’s mistress Pace at the door, sweating and
Mrs. Ford. Wow now, my cyas-musket ?? what blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs

- ‘ :
: ; :

news with vou speak with you presently.
Rob. My master, sir John, is come in at vour eal. She shall not see me: I will ensconce' me
back-door, mistress Ford ; and reques' ur com- Dchind the arras.*
pany. Urs. Ford. Pray you, do so; she’s a very tat-
Nrs. Paz You little Jack-a-lc: hat ») tling woman. [Falstaff hides himself,
been true to us
Rob. Ay, 'll be sworn: my master knows not Enter Mistress Page and Robin,
of your being here - vl th thr | to 1
me into everiasting liberty, if I tell i of it; for What's the matter? how now?
he swears, he’ll turn me away. ’| Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what nave you
Mrs. Page. Thou’rt a good boy: this secrecy of @ ’ You’re shamed, you are overthrown, you
thine shall tai to t I] rm re undone for ever
a new doublet and hose. 1] ide me. «irs. lord. What's the matter, good mistress
Mrs. Fi Do so:—Go tell thy master, I am?
alone. Mrs. Page. remember you your cuc. Urs. Page. O well-a-day, mistress Ford! hav-
[ Erit Robi in hor man to your husband, to give him
Mrs. Page. | warrant thec: if | » not act jt, SUCh cause of suspicion !
his« me. Erit Mrs. Pace.| Vrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion ?
j Ford. Go to then: we'll use 1 whole-. “Urs. Pare. What cause of suspicion ?—Out up-
some humidity. this <3 wat 1) On you! vy am | mistook in you!
teach him to Know turtles! : irs. Ford. Why, alas! what’s the matter ?
WV Page, Y« husband’s coming hither, wo-
Enter Falatat with allt licers in Windsor, to search for
nan, that ! Says, 1s here now in the

» take an ill advantage of
this 1s the peri { my) Ot Mrs. I a ik louder.—|.side.]|—’Tis not
Q . Pray heaven it be not so, that you

Fal. Mistri Ford, 1. le te, man here; but ’ts most certain your
Mistress Ford. Now s ry iim Wi | l’s coming, with half Windsor at his heels,

would thy hus rd 3 j ! 1*|] . it i } ch for nha one, I come before to ts ll

the best lord, I would make thee my lad) vou know yourself clear, why I am glad
Mrs. Ford. 1 , | if 1 hay friend here, convey, con-

be a pitiful lady t. Be not amazed; call all your senses
Fal. Let the court of France show me such ano-'to vou: defend your reputation, or bid farewell to

ther; | see how thine ey would emul the | rood life forever.

diamond: thou hast the right arched bent of tl Mrs. Ford. What shall 1 do?—There is a cen-

brow, that becomes the ship-tire, the trre-valiant,|tleman, my dear friend: and I fear not mine own
or any tire of Venctian admittance. ime, so much as hes peril: | had rather than a

Mrs. Ford. A plain keretet, sir John rr OU nd pound, he were out of the house,
brows be come noi ‘ | ©: nor t twell net I WM ‘ Pa eC. | ir shame , BOvVer stand you had
Fal. Thou art a traitor to ‘ »: thou would’st rather, and wou had rather: your husband’s here

make an absolute courtier; and the tirm Uixture of at hand, bethink vou of some conveyance : in the

thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy it, house you cannot hide him.—QO, how have you de-
in a semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou|ceived me !—Look, here is a basket: if he be of
wert. if fortune thy foe were not; nature is thy any reasonable stature, he may creep in here ; and

friend : come, thou canst not hide i. throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to
(1) Bleachers of linen. (4) Venetian fashions.

(2) A young small hawk. (5) Formerly chiefly inhabited by druggists,

3) A puppet thrown at in Lent, like shrove-cocks.| (6) Prison. (7) Hide, (8) Tapestey. ™~60

bucking: or, it is whiting-time,’ send him by your
men to Datchet Mead.

SEF TE Ce

| Mrs. Ford. He’s too big to go in there: ¥ hat|
B tts shall I do ?
Fe
f Re-enter Falstaff.
i | .
i Fal. Let me see’t, let me see’t! O Iet me see’t!

Bk Vl in, Vl in;—follow your friend’s counsel ;—

Vil in. : os es
Mrs. Page. What! sir John | alstafT! A

your letters, knight ?

Fal. I love the 2e,
away: let me creep in here

re these
and none but thee ;
[’ll never—

this ?
Mrs. Ford. 1 kn ow net wh i a I
that my husband is deceived, j
Mrs. Page. What ee a she in, when your
husband eee: who? was in the bas

bett

>Inc

Mrs. Ford. Tamh alf afraid he will have need of
L washing ; so see ing him into the water will di

him a benefit.

Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal

would, all of the same strain were in the same
distress.

Mrs. Ford. ¥ think, my husband hath some spe-
cial suspicion of Falstaft?s being here: for I n a 1
saw him so gross in his | jealousy till now.

Mrs. Page. I will ] lay a plot to try that: And
we will yet have more - icks with Falstaff: his di
solute disease will scarce oly y this me dalein.

i (1) Bleaching-time. |
rip <2) A staff for carrying a large tub or basket, |}

  

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

help me

t [He goes into the basket ; they cover hin with
Joul linen. |
; Mrs. Page. Help to cove r your) ister, boy : call
F your men, mistress Fo: i —Y ou dissembling knight!
a Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John! [£2xit
Pi Robin; re-enter Servants. ] Go take up thes¢
FTE Y clothes here, quickly ; wh re’s the cowl-staff
a | ‘| look, how yon drumble: carry y th m to the laun-
Lin dress in Datchet Mead; quickly, come
tit
1 Enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh Eva:
‘i Ford. Pray ycu, come near: if I suspect with-
; out cause, why then make sport at me, then let
tI be your jest; I desérve it.—liow n th
Rha! bear you this ?
Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.
| Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whith
they bear it? you were b i le with buck-
te washing.
4 Ford. Buck? I would I could sh t If of
pay . the buck! Buck, buck, buck? ay, buck; I war-
rant you, buck; and of the scason too, it shall ap-
pear. [Exeunt Servants with thet t.] Gentie-
men, I oe drean ned to-nizht; Pll teli 5
dream. Hei yh re, here be my keys: ascend m
chambers, se arcl h, seck, find out: 1
peeeree the fox :—Let me stop this way first :—
now, uncape,*
"ines e. Good master Fe d, be content }
wrong yourself too much
Ford. True, master Page.—Up, gent] Ls y
shall see sport anon: follow me, gentlemen
[ ivi,
Eva. This is fery fantastical humours, and -
lousies,
Catus. By gar, tis no de fashion of France: it
is not jealous in France.
Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issus
of his search, [Exeunt Evans, Page, and Caius.
Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in

Act I.

| Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion,

|mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing
fn to the water and give him another hope, to be-
tray him to anot her punis Na nt?

| Jlrs. P age. We'll do let him be sent for to-

|

imorrow eight o’clock, 6 have amends.

| Re-enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Str Hugh Evans.

cannot

that hec

find him: may be the knaye
yuld not compass.

Ford. J

( d of

Page. Heard you that !
Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace :—You use me well,
n cr lord, do you?
i rd. A Ido so.
Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your
houchts !
for : An
Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong,
ister Ford ;
fe y, ay; I must bear it.
fet If there be any pody in the house, and in
mm! _and in the coflers, and in the presses,
ven forgive my sins at the day of judgment!
Cai iS. bY 4 ar, nor | Loo: ce re is ho bodies.
i . Fic. fe. master Ford! are you not asham-
d? \ irit, 1 devil suggests this imagina-
tion ? T would not have your distemper in this kind,
LO! lth of Windsor Castl
} lis my f{ of er Ps ] suff r for it.
I a 1 Suite ior a ] conscience your wife
ta ’oma a f 7 will desires among five
| five huod ed t .
I sce ’tis an honest woman.
Well -—I1 nised you a dinner :—Come
. : I pray you, pardon me
: wm keg Icno Hh Lo vou, why I have
\ if —cC Ome mistress Page ; i
!me; pray heartily, pardon me
f l s go in, gentlemen; but, trust me,
Ly kK hu | do invite you to-morrow morn-
in) to my house to breakfast : atler, \ ‘Ila bird-
r; I have a fine hawk tor “the bush :
|
i Vy }
Eva. If therc Oo} I shall make two in the
4 » If the be « r two, I shall make-a de
i ! } Vo ! h {op shame
Ford i j you ] 7 P re,
! | pray you Ww, remembrance to-morrow
n the lousy knay ne host
Caius. Datis good; by gar, vit all my heart.
Eva A y KI to nave his jibes and his
Keri | Exeunt
SCLNE IV.—A t Page’s house. Enter
Fenton é Anne Page

hy father’s love

rherefore, no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.

nN Ala ! ho ; en?

’ j .

Pent. Wh thou a be thy self,
He doth object, I am too er ut of bir th;
And that mv State 1 } ealid tt

y Uly Ol Ven li’d with >
i. ' *,  o fe my expe nse,
L Sé K to heal i OY ‘ pms VW i th:
a. ety .
Besides these, other bars h ve ; before me,——
; )

Pe DORs, my 3 eels

¢ yr im]
Lnee, iS a pre
May be, he tells you true,

Nis
An ells mec,
Is ould love

;
percy.
lnne

(3) Drone. (4) Unbag the fox, (5) What,Scene V.

Fent. No, heaven so speed me

I 7 In my tim
come !
Albeit, I will confess, thy father’s wealth
Was the first motive that I wo ’d thee, Ann
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more 1
Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bacs
And "tis the very riches oi \ it
That now I aim at.
inne. Gentle ma ter b ni
Vet seek mvV¥ tather’s love - kk
If opportunity and hum sul
Cannot attain it, why then—Hark you
{i
Enter Shallow, Slend: "and Mi .
Shal. Break their talk, mist: s Quik

;

kinsman shall speak’for | li
Sfen. Pll make a shaft or a bolt on’t:! slid
but venturing.
Shal, se not dismay
Sien. No, she shall not dismay me: 1
for that,—but that I am

Quick. Hark ye; master Slender would
word with you.

“inne. | come to him.—This is mv f
O, what a world of vile i!)

Looks hand me int

: i

Shal. She's coming : } n
hadst t father!

Sten. I had a father, n ‘
c in tell you rood ' )?
tell mistress Anne thy t. | ymy i
geese out of a pen, food

Shal, Mistress A e. ms '

Sten. Ay, that Lad - a8 weil ]
in Glocesters ire.

Sha!, lle will maint nv '

sien. Ay, that I will, « ,
under the d ,

Shal. He will 1 \
pounds jon ;

inac. G i m '
himself.

Shal, Marry, I t ke
that b Lco | ~ |
vor
: Anne No i for SI

mie? Now, \

“Inne. What i

Slen My r ;
jest, indeed! I 1 ] |
h ven

Men, Tru \ for Tl : 1 : ’
. L

nouinge wi mn you: ¥

mede motions: if it my luck, so: if 1

man be hisdole'*® T)

E better than | Cili YOu

wre he comes,

Enter Page, and Mist I
Page. Now, master Stender :-—Lov
ter Anne,—
Why, how now! what does master Fe: n
You wrong me, sir, Unus still to haunt my hor

(1) A proverb—a shaft was a lone art Ww. ai
bolt a thick short one,

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 61

AX

id you, sir, my dauchter is dispos’d of.
Pent. Nay, master Page, be not impatient.
; ; ? .
J (:o0od master Fenton, come not to

Page. She is no match for you.

i ft. Sir, will you hear Int

x No, good master Fenton.
me, master Shallow: come, son Slender; in:—

ving ny mind, you wrong me, master Fenton.
[/veunt Page, Shallow, and Slender.
F rt Kk to mistress Page

mistress Page, for that I love your

l ! fashion a I do,
il cheeks, rebukes, and manners,
' 1 colours of my love,

now rere : let Ine have your ¢ ood will,
t] do not marry me to yond’

.

Urs. Pa: 1 mean it not; I seek you a better
ster, master doctor.

er be set quick i’ the earth,

Irs. P . Come, trouble not vourself: good

I how she loves you,

; } a
HC MuUst Hneccs GON,

{ Mrs. Pace and Anne.
a i, ! ist s; farewell, Nan.
( I now ;—Nay, said I, will

'ona fool, and a physician }
i ‘—this 1s my doing,

! nd I pray thee, once to
‘ ring: there’s for thy pains,
ext,
’ send thee rood fortune! A
" n would run through
| heart. But yet, I
ly oss A or | would
. in sooth, I would
ier: | will do what I ean for
» | ‘ mised, and PH be
\ if eciously* for master

{ ;

. «J ri nd to sir John
I a beast arn

’ ‘ .
af
[ Exit.

] 4 the Garter Inn. Enter

{sack:+ puta toastin’t.

: carried ina basket,
offal: and to be thrown

That ’ Well: if I be served such an-

ve my brains ta’en out, and but-

og for a new Year's qift.

inte the river with as little

a t would have drown’d a bitch’s
puppies, filleen 1 the litter: and you may

t | have a kind of alacrity in
pas hell, should
| had been drowned, but that the shore was
i] a death that lL abhor: for the
ter swells a man; and what a thing should I

mn were as dec

{?) Com

poor orrich. (3) Lot, (4) Specially,
{ ») Né ly ct. (6) Pity,9 MERRY WIVES

oe

have been, when { had been swelled! 1 should
have been a mountain of mummy.

 

 

| Re-enter Bardolph, with the wine.

i Bard. Ulere’s mistress Quickly, sir, to speak

E with you.

D Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack to the
Thames waler ; ; for my belly’s as cold, as if I had
bs swallowed snow-balls for pills to cool the reins.
Call her in,

I Bard. Come in, woman.

; Enter Mrs. Quickly.
f Quick. By your leave; I ery you mercy: give
i | your worship g °ood-morrow.

-1 oo brew me

pH Fal, Take away these chalices
pottle of sack finely.

Bard. With eggs, sir?

Fal. Simple of itself’; ; Pil no pullet-sperm in my
brewage.—| Exit Bardolph.]—How now ?

Quick. Marry, sir, | come to your wors
mistress Ford,

Fal. Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough:
was thrown into the ford: I have my belly full of
ford.

Quick. Alas the day! good heart, that was
her fault; she does so take on with her men ;
inistook their erection.

Fal, So did I mine,
woman’s promise.

Quick. Well, she laments, for it, that it
would yearn your heart to sec it. Her husband
goes this morning a birding; she desires you once

hin
iliyd
i

from |

T
i

~~ +
not

ae

}

to build upon a foolish

sir,

more to come to her between eightand nine: I must
carry her word quickly: shell make you amends,
I warrant you.

Fal. Well, I will visit her: tell her so; and bid
her think, what a man ts: let her consider his
frailty, and then judge of my merit.

Quick. I will tell her.

Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten, say’st thou?

Quick. Eight and nine, sir.

Fal. Well, be gone: I will not miss her.

Quick. Peace be with you, sir! [ Exit

Fal. I marvel, I hear not of master Brook; he

sent me word to stay within: I like his money well.
O, here he comes.

Enter Ford.

Ford. Bless you, sir!
Fal. Now, mi ster Brook; you come to know)
what hath passed between me and Ford’s wife ?
Ford. That, indeed, sir John, is my business.
Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you;
at her house the hour she appointed m¢
Ford. And how speed you, sir?
Fal. Very ill-favouredly, master Brook.
ord. How so, sir? Did she change her deter-|}’

mination ? i

tinual larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant
of our encounter, after we had embraced,
protested, and, as it were,
rn our comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of his com-|
panions, thither provoked |
temper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his’
wife’s love. Ip

{2} Cups.
2) Bilboa, where the best blades are made,

  

iment.
I was/you shall know how ] speed ;
|she ill be crowned with your enjoying her :
|Y ou shall have her, master Brook; master ‘Brock!

Fal. No, master Brook; but the peaking cornu-|Ford :
to, her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a con-|Ford.

guides him should aid him, I w
places,

Ob WINDSOR, Act I,

Ford. What, while you were there ?

Fal. While { was there.

Ford. And did he search for you, and could riot
find you?

Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would have
comes in ore mistress Page ; gives intelligence
and, by her invention, and
they conveyed ine ile &

 

i.
of Ford’s approac h;
Ford’s wife’s distr action,
| buc k-basket.

Ford. A buck-basket!
| Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket: rammed me
in with foui shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings,
land ¢reasy napkins ; that, master Brook, there was
lthe rankest compound of ’villanous sme ii, that ever
ofl nded nostril.

Ford.

Fal.
have s
id. Being thus crammed in the basket

 

And how long lay you there ?

Nay, you shall hear, master Brook, what
suffer ‘d to bring this woman to evil for your
t, a couple

rr

of Ford’s knaves, his hinds, were called forth by
their mistress, to carry me in the name of fonl
clothes to Datchet-lane: they took me on their
shoulders; met the jealous knave, their master, in
the door; who asked them once or twice what they
had in their basket. I quaked for fear, lest the
lunatic knave would have searched i but Fate
o-daining he should be a cuckold, held his hand.
Well: on we nt he fora search, and away went I
for fo ul lothes. But mark the sequel, master Brook:
ii suflered the pangs of three several deaths : first,
in intolerable fright, to be detected with a jealous
rotten-bell-wether: next, to be cor npasst d like a
od bilbe,? in the circumference of a peck, hilt to
point, heel to head: and then, to be sto} ped in, ake
. strong distillation, with stinking clothes tha {
ted in their own grease: think of that,—a man 1of
my kidney,—think of that; that am as subject to
heat as butler; a man of continua’ dissolution and
thaw; it was a miracle to ’scape suffocation. And
in the height of this bath, when I was more than
half stewed in erease, like a Dutch dish, to be
thrown into the Fhames, and cooled, glowing hot,
in that surge, like a horse-shoe : think of that ;—
hissing hot,—think of that, master Brook.

Ford. In good sadness,’ sir, I am sorry that for
my sake you have suffered all this. My suit then
is desperate ; you'll undertake her no more

Fal. Master srook, I will be thrown into /Etna,
as I have been into the Thames, ere I will leave
her thus. Her husband is this morning one a bird-
ing: I have received from he ‘r another embassy of
meeting ; ’twixt eight and nine is the hour, master
| Brook,

Ford. ’Tis past eight already, sir.

Fal. Is it? 1 will then address me* to my appoint-
Come to me at your convenient leisure, and
and the cone lusion
adie th

‘you shall cuckold Ford. Exit.
Ford. Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream?
lo I sleep? Maste ‘r Ford, awake; awake, master

there’s a hole made in your best coat, master
This ’tis to be married ! this ’tis to have line n,

jand buck-baskets!—Well, I will proclaim myse i
kissed,|what I am:
spoke the prologue of house :
should ;
and instigated by his dis-| nor into a pepper-box:

I will now take the lec her ;
he cannot ’scape me;
he cannot creep into
but,

he is at my

tis impossible he
a halfpenny purse,
lest the devil that
ill search impossible
Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to

(3) Seriousness,

‘4) Make myself ready,MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 09

be what T would not, shall not make mo
horns to make one mad, let thy
with me, I'll be horn mad,

SC Ee NE Fn ae Sireet

bring my young man here to school

son aeite nothing

lis ATTY, th: if doe ~ le >

‘Ace usalivo, hing,
r iS Lat inh * for Ce icon,

Leave your prabbles,
focative case, William ?
O—V ocativo, O.
Remember, William :;
And that’s a good root.

Pvc, ’Oman, forbear,
Mrs. Page. Peace.
Eva, What is your genitive case, plural, Wil
m ?
Weill, Genitive case ?
Eva. Ay.
Will. Genilive,—horum, harwm, horwm.
Quick. "Vengeance of Jenny's case! fie on
her !—never name her, child, if she be a whore.
Eva. For shame, ’oman.
Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words:
1@ teaches him to hick and to hack, which they’ll
do fast enough of themselves; and to call horum:—

Eva. ’Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no
tandings for thy cases, and the numbers of
’ Thou art as foolish Christian crea-

Mrs. Page. vedo hee hy peace.

Eva. Show me 1 » William, some declensions
[your oun

Will, Forsooth, I have forgot.

Eva. It is ki, ke, cod; if you forget your kies,

‘

ir Kes, ! your cods, you must be preeches, *
Go ¥ rw ind play, ro.

M Pa tie is a better scholar than I

was

Eva. He is a good sprag* memory. Farewell,
mistress Page.

Mrs. Page. Adieu, good sir Hugh. [Evzit Sir
Hugh.}] Get you home, boy.—Come, we stay
too long. . |Exeunt,
SCENE II.—.1 room in Ford’s house. Enter

Fulstatl and Mrs. Ford.

Fa!. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up

sufferan I sec, you are obsequious* in your

\ nd I profess re ruil al to a hair's breadth ; not
nly, mistress Ford, in the —— office of love, but
in i the accouts ment, ct mple ment, and ceremo-

of it. But are you sure of your husband now?

Jurs. Fi » 23e'2 birding, sweet sir John.

Airs. P ° +t ik te | What hoa, gossip Ford!
r '

Vrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, sir John.

[| Lavit Falstaff,

FRnler Afrs. Pace.

Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart ? who’s at
hom i $s] i 5 if elf?
Mrs. Ford, Why, none but mine own people.

Mrs. Page. Indeed?

Mrs. Ford. No, certainly;—speak louder. [ Aside.

Mrs. Page. Truly, l am so glad you have no-
body he re,

Mrs. Ford, Why?

Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in
his old lunes* again: he so takes on yonder with
my husband: so r uls against all married mankind ;
so curses all Eve’s daughte rs, of wnat comple xion
soever ; and so buflets himself on the forehead,
crying, peer oul, peer out !* that any madness i
ver yet beheld, seemed but tameness, civility

nicl patie nee, to ‘this his diste ‘mper he j is in now a
im glad the fat knight is not here,

Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him?

Mrs, Page. Of none but him; and swears, he
was carried out, the last time he searched for him,
in a basket: protests to my husband, he is now

(6) As children call on a snail to push forth his

horns

  

       
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
   
   
  
    
    
    
  
  
  
    
 
   
 
    
   
 
  
     
       
 
    
   
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
    
    
 
     
      
   
   
  
  
 
  
    
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
    
  

ors Som,

Ss” RE titSenne ee
Dy ea nes

se ait, inn ene

64 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act IV.

Mrs. Ford. Vl first ditect my ten, what they

heré: and hath drawn him and the rest of their
° . shall do with the basket. Go up, ’ll bring liner.

 

compan from their sport, to make another experi-|
ment of his suspicion : but Jam glad the knight ‘for him straight. Exit.
is not here ; now he shall see his own foole Ys, | Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we
Mrs. 5 ‘ord. How near is he, mistress Page ? Jeane! misuse him enough.
Mrs. Page. Hard by; at Street end; he willl I] leave a proof, by that which we will do,
be here anon. | Wives may be merry, and yet honest too:
Mrs, Ford. Yam undone !—the knight ts here. | We do not aet, thi ut often jest and laugh;
Mrs, Page. Why, then you are utte a shamed,| ’Tis old but tr ue, Still swine eat all the dra
and he’s but a dead man. What a woman are| [E ‘zit.
you!—Away with him, away with bits better] , ‘ ,
Re-enter Mrs, Ford, with two servants,
|

shame than murder.

Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? BY Ww
should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the b
ket again?

1 Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on
|your ‘should ers; your master is hard at door: if he
ibid you set it down, obey him: quickly, despatch.
| Evit.
|

1 Serv. Come, come, take it up.

Re-enter Falstaff.

Fal. No, V’ll come no more i’ the basket: may'| 2 Serv. Pray heave n, i it be not full of the knight
I not go out, ere he come ? Agar.

Mrs. Pave. Alas, three of master Ford’s bro-; 1 serv. I hope not; I had as lief bear so much
thers watch the door with pistols, that none should |lead.
issue out; otherwise you might slip away ere he
came. But what make you here ? | Enter Ford, Page, Shallow, Caius, and Sir Hugh

Pal. What shall {1 do?—Pil creep up into the L’vans,

tay
eR GAL Pct TE aek Use to ee Ford. Ay, but in it prove true, master page,
their birding-pieces : ¢reep into the kiin-hole. Pete an ae ee are unfool me again ?—-Set
wor Where is it? down ee baske t, villain :—Some body call my

Mrs. Ford. He will'scek there on my word.|')°— " a ath Poe peers come out bere |
Neither press, coffer, chest, trank, well, vault, bi oe : th} rascals! there's & knot, & ibs,”
eae oh Ce Thr ie remembrance of a ya peck, a conspi : "acy ay rainst me: now shall the

ixces. and goa to them by his note: -there is no devil be s lamed, What! wife, 1 say r come
hiding’ you in the house. } jcome forth : bi hold what honest clothes you send

Fal. Vil go out then. Ts bleaching. ‘ .

Mrs. Page. If you go out m your own sem-|. 7” le Why, this passes ;* Master Ford, you
Dlance, you dic, sir Joh. Unless you go out dis- ire D rt to co loose any longer ; you must be
guised,— Peed eitcé. Shite te tilt wane

Be Pee ee mtoht wa disruice him? _ Eva. Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad

Mrs. Page. Alas the da I know not. There|~ es seek ‘ a
2S no woman’s 3rown big enough for him; other-|.. 4 !. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ;
wise, he mi cht put ona hat, a muiller, and ak aa
chief, and so escape. | es :

Enter Mrs. Ford.

Fal. Good hearts, devise something: any extre-|
mity, rather than a misch Lief, , Bona’ & 4 . 24s ;
Jlrs. Ford. My maid’s aunt, the fat woman of/pouy. 0 say I too, Sir.—C ome hither, mistress
Brentford, has a sown above. Ford; mistress Ford, the honest woman, the
Mrs Pook OF Ee waht ae iD” acrve’ him tm des t wife, , the virtuc us creature, that hath the

; . } ‘jealous fool to her husband !—] suspect without

 
  

she’s as big as he is: and there’s her thrum’d hat, ‘ive!
and her mufiler too: run up, sir John. | 3, mistress, do 1?
Mrs. Ford. Go, go, swect sir John; mistress| Mrs. ford, Heaven be my witness, you do, if

Page and I will look some linen for your head. | YOu gusgesh tac in any dishonesty.
Mrs. Page. Quick, quick; we'll come dr ssl ann Well said, brazen-face ; hold ity@aif——
you straight: put on the gown the while. - ome gyi, tran. ;
[Exit Fal.| : we [Pulls the clothes out of the basket.
Mrs. Ford. 1 would my husband would meet} Page. ee
him in this shape: he cannot abido the old woman}. °)\_° Ford. Are you not ashamed? legii®
of Brentford; he swears, me? a witch: forbade| on" palone.
her my hous <e, and hath threatened to beat her. Lord, Is hall find you anon.
Mrs. Paze. Heaven euide tia athe husbenniel Ev t. Lis unreasonable! Will you take up your
CUdEStS and the devil guide his cudgel after-| 4S ‘ clothes? Come away.
wards! 5 5 Fi rd. Empty the basket, I say.
Mrs, Ford. But is my husband coming | Mrs. J See Why, man, why,—
Ford, Master Page, as I am a man, there was

Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, 2 is Ki and |
talks of the * basket too, howsoever he hath had 5 jn | One conve ona ai of my house yeste rday in this
tellizence. ibasket: Why may not he be there again? In my

Mrs. Ford. Well { try that; for Pll appoint my |house [ am sure he is: my intelligence is true ;
men to carry the basket ap ain, to meet him at the|™) jealousy is reasonable: Pluck me out all the
door with it, as they did last eind: » Mp 2

Mrs. Page. Nay, but he’ll be here presently Irs, Ford. If you find a man there, he shall

let’s go dress him like the witch of Brentford, *|die . Hea's de ath.
Page. Here’s no man,

l Short n C ’ 2) Serj sTiess 8 rane f str
(1) ole of, (2) Seriousness, (5) Gang, (4) Surpasses, to go beyond boundsSeene III, IV.

Shal, By my fidelity, this is not
Ford ; this wrongs you.

Eva.

Master Ford, you musi

follow the imaginations of your own heart: this

jealousies,
Ford. We ll, he *s not he re | See k {i {
Page. No, nor
Ford, He

no where else, but in your |

ip to Search my hous Lis One¢

if I find not what 1 seek, show no ec
extremity, let me for ever b your labie-s
them say of me, As jealous i .
a hollow walnut for his wi I o
once mi once n

/urs. J} { What | is i id
you, i the old woman ‘

Ars. Fi
ford,

Ford.

Have I not { rbid he ny ho 2 {
errands, does she? We are simple 1
not know what’s brought to |

sion of fortune-telling. She w

8 pe lis, by the f

beyond our element : We KNOW :

a wn, you witch, y u hag you: « ns
Mrs. Ford. Nay, go

gentlemen, let him not i

Enter Falstaffins

Pil prat her :——Out of my
witch ! [ be ius ham. |
polecat, | :
Vil fortune-tell you. i}

Airs. Page. Are you not 1a md |
have kill’d the poor woman.

Mrs. Ford. N Ly, be WL ¢
credit for you,

Ford. Ha

By yea and no, |

you ronyon '* out! ou his

Jars Ford. N i¥, DY
he beat him most unpilulu!

vars. Page. I'il have the «
hung o’er the altar: it hath:

Wars. Ford. What think »
Warrant of womanheod, :
conscience, pursue him wilh ¥ lurt

ra. Page. The rit of want! is,

seared out of him ; if the devil hay inn in f
sim ple, with fine and reco’ hy vill new
think, in the way of waste, attempt

Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell o
have served him?

Mrs. Page. Yes, by all m
scrape the fieures out of your husbear
they ¢an find in their hearts.
fat knight shall be any further afilicted, we two
ptill be the ministers,

Mrs. Ford. Vil warrant, they'll have him

the * unvl

(1) Lover, (2) Scab.

well, mast

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

; ’ : ;
icly shamed: and,

65

methinks, there would be no
iod to the jest, should he not be publicly

rs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then,

it: L would not have things cool. [Ezeunt.

SCENE Ill.—A room in the Garter Fin. Enter

tiost and Bardolph,

Germans desire to have three of
the duke himself will be to-morrow at
y are going to meet him.
fiost. What duke should that be, comes so se-
Uy? I hear not of him in the court: Let me
they speak English?
Berd. Ay, sir: Pll call them to you.
ull have my horses; but Pll make
i'll sauce them: they have had my house
| have turned away my other
off; PU sauce them: Come.
Exeunt.

With 1 entuiemen :

command ;

¥Y Inust come

Enter

ENE IV.—A room in Ford’s House.
e, Urs. Ford, and Sir

Mrs. Pas

st discretions of a ’oman

/ . i} I of the pe

send you both these letters at

‘Vithin a quarter of an hour.
i a J me wiles Henceforth do what

t the sun with enld
wanlonness : now aoth thy honour

.
;

heretic,

ell, tis well; no more

i ‘ Als W

ifd: let our wives

ce us public sport,

s old fat f llow,

ke him, and disgrace him for it.
way than that they

: i 4)
¥ i ti

d him word they'll meet him
t! he, fe; he'll never come.

| thrown in the rivers ;
peaten, as an old ’oman ;

e terrors in him, that he
nks his flesh is punished,

i « BUY! UUL LOW

you’ ll use him when

1
iievise ;

bring him thither.
J . J here ts an old tale goes, that Herne

er here in Windsor forest,

time, at still midnight,

.n oak, with great ragg’d horns ;
blasts the tree, and takes* the cattle ;

makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a

most hideous and dreadful manner.

1 hay ad of such a spirit; and well you

idle-headed eld*

, and did deliver to oUF age,
; | *
us tale of Herne the hunter for a truth,

(6) Old age,

Pousti
:

rt }

(4) Cry out, (5) Strikes,ee ia) RSC Heeger. ag

66 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, Act {F.
that do fearithick«skin ? epeal, breathe, dis¢uss; brief, short,
5

ight to walk by this Herne’s oak ; quick, snap. : ge
eat this ? J ; Sim. Marry, sit, I come to speak with sir John

j is j fice; | Falstaff fro aster Slender.

Mrs. Ford. Matry, this is our device; |£ alstaff from mast 7 .
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, Host. There’s his chamber, his house, his castle,
Discuis’d like Herne, with huge horns on his head. his standing-bed, and truckle-bed; *tis painted

Page. Well, let itnot be doubted but he’ll come, |about with the story of the prodigal, fresh and new :
And in this shape: When you have brought him|Go, knock and call; he’ll 7 like an nthropo-

thither |phaginian® unto thee: Knock, I say.
What shall be done with him? what is your plot?) Sim. There’s an old woman, a fat woman, gone

Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought up-|up into his chamber; I'll be so bold as to stay, sir,

on, and thus: till she come down: I come to speak with her, in-
Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, deed. he
And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress| ost. Ha! a fat woman! the knight may be rob-
Like urchins, ouphes,? and fairies, green and white, |bed: Vl call.—Bully knight! Bully sir John !
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, jspeak from thy lungs military : Art thou there? it
And rattles in their hands ; upon a sudden, lis oe 9b. i arceat a .
As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met ral. [bove. ow now, mine host?
Let them from forth a. saw-pit eal at once Host. Here’s a Bohemian Tartar tarries the
With some diffused? song ; upon their sight, icoming down of thy fat woman: Let her descend,
We two in great amazedness will fly : |bully, let her descend : my chambers are honoura-
Then let them all encircle him about, —- : Fie! privacy? fie!

|

Page. Why, yet there Want not many,

 

And, fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight ; : ;
And ask him, why, that hour of fairy revel, Enter Falstaff.
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread,

In shape profane. Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat woman

Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, jeven now withme; but she’s gone.
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound,? | Sim. Pray you, sir, was’t not the wise’ woman
And burn him with their tapers. jof Brentford ?
Mrs. Page. The truth being known, Fal. Ay, marry, was it, muscle-shell > VW hat
We'll all present ourselves ; dis-horn the spirit, | Would you with her?
And mock him home to Windsor. | Sim. My master, sir, my master Slender, sent to
Ford. The children must) her, seeing her go through the streets, to know, sir,
Be practised welk co this, or they’ll ne’er do’t. whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain,

Eva. 1 will teach the children their behaviours .|had the chain, or no, :
and I will be like a jack-an-napes also, to burn the; /@/. 1 spake with the old woman about it.

knight with my taber. | Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir?
Ford. That will be excellent. Dll go buy them| al. Marry, she says, that the very same man,
vizards. F " that beguiled master Slender of his chain, cozened
Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all) im of it.
the fairies, | Sim. I would, I could have spoken with the
Finely attired in a robe of white. }woman herself; [had other things to have spoken

Page. That silk will I go buy ;—and in that time| With her too, from him.
Shall master Slender steal my Nan away, [.4side.| = What are they? let us know,

 

And marry her at Eton. Go, send to Falstaff; Host. Ay, come; quick.
straight. Sim. I may not conceal them, sir.
Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in name of Brook:| !. Conceal them, or thou diest.
He’ll tell me all his purpose: sure he’ll come. Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about
Mrs. Page. Fear not you that: Go, get us pro-/mistress Anne Page; to know, if it were my mas-
perties,* ter’s fortune to have her, or no.
And tricking for our fairies. Fal. Tis, ’tis his fortune.
Eva. Let us about it: It is admirable pleasures,| Sim. What, sir ?
and fery honest knaveries. | Fal. To have her,—or no: Go; say, the Oman

[Exeunt Page, Ford, and Evans, |told me so,
Mrs. Page. Go, mistress Ford, Sim. May I be so bold to say so, sir ?

Send quickly to sir John, to know his mind. Fal. Ay, sir Tike ; who more bold?

[Exit Mrs, Ford.| Sim. 1 thank your worship: I shall make my
V’ll to the doctor; he hath my good will, master glad with these tidings. [Exit Simple.
And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. Host. Thou art clerkly,* thou art clerkly, sir
That Slender, though an landed, is an idiot : John: Was there a wise woman with thee ! :
And he my husband best of all affects : Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host; one that
The doctor is well money’d, and his friends hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before

Potent at court ; he, none but he, shall have her, |in my life: and I paid nothing for it neither, but
Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave| Was paid for my learning.
her, [ Exit. :
Enter Bardolph,
CENE V. i ;
S Porn oat Inn. Enter| Bard. Out, alas, sir! cozenage! meer cozenage !
ple. aoe Where be my horses? speak well of them,
varletto.
’ : .
Host. What would’st thou have, boor? what,} Bard. Run away with the cozeners ; for so soon

 

1) Elfs, hobgoblins. (2) Wild, discordant (6) Cunning woman, a f
: 2) Sc . ) y rLune-teller,
ts} Soundly, (4) Necessaries (5) Cannibal, 7} Scholar like, 2 yaMERRY WIVES
as lcame beyond Kien, they threw 1
behind one of them, in a si

German devils, thy

terity of wit, my countertleiting

the stocks, | the common s

SAY somewnat,

neaven we ll, that you ar

pinto my chamber.

  
 
    
   
    
  
   
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
 
    
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
 
  
 
    
 
  
 
   
 
    
   
   
 

OF WINDSOR, 67

SCENE VI— Another Room in the Garter Inn,
Enter lenten and Host,

Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me } my mind
is heavy, | will give over all.
Fent. Yet hear me speak: Assist me in my
purpose,
And, as 1 am a gentleman, PI] give thee
\ hundred pounds in gold, more than your loss,
fost. | will hear you, master Fenton; and I

Lie lenel

i least, keep your counsel.
Fent. From time to time I have acquainted you
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ;
Who, mutually, hath answered my affection
thas hersell might be her chooser, )
mven lo my wish: | have a letter from her

bY eh contents as you will wonder at;
Che mirth whereof so larded with my matter,
I’ La her, sing]. , can be manift sted,

\\ iLnOuUL Lhe show ol both z whe rt in fat Falstaff

Liath a great scene; the imave of the jest

| Showing the letter.
{*}} Ww you here atlarge. Hark, good mine host:
['o- Fierne’s oal just ’twixt twelve and
\i weet Nan present the fairy queen ;
Ih » S here ;* in which discuise,
\\ ther jests are something rank on foot,
i lat ih commanded her to slip
\way with Slender, and with him at Eton
liamedint ) inarry: she hath consented :

tier mother, even strong against that match,

\ | | Calus, hath appointed

i L he Hid UACWISe Shullle her away,

While oth ts ure tasking of their minds,

And at the dean y, where a priest attends,

I | Lin yn : to this her mother’s plot

she, scemingly obedient, likewise hath

Nine promi Lo the doctor ;—Now, thus it rests.

Her fat 1 ; she shall be all in white -

\ inthat | t, when Slender sees his time

[ nt f ¥ the hand, and bid he r go,

; il go with him :—her mothe r hath intended,

\ LLer Lo denote her to the doctor,

For they must all be mask’d and vizarded, )

i i green, shy shy ill bye loose enrob'd,

Wil i pendant, flaring ’bout her head ;

‘ coctor spies his vantage ripe,

lo pinch her by the hand, and, on that token,

rhe maid hat iven consent to go with him.
iiost. VV) ch means sbe to deceive ? father or

:

Fent. Both, my good host, to vo along with me:

And il rests,—that you'll procure the vicar

In nT church, ’lwixt twelve and one,

\ , mt lawful name of marrying,

lo five our hearts united c« remony,

flost. Well, husband your device; I'll to the
Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest.
Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ;
Besides, I'l] make a present recompense. Exeunt.
|
sienna
rT 5 ,
CT -e

\CENE ] 1 Room in the Garter Inn. Enter
balstattand Mrs. Quickly.

~~

hee, no more prattling ;—go.——)’}]J

i } In i} letter. (3) Fantastically,68 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ict V.

the very instant of Falstaff’s and our meeting, they
will at once display to the night.

Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.

Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed, he will be

Quick. V’ll provide you a chain; and [ll do|mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be
what I can to get you a pair of horns. mocked. ; =

Fal. Away, I say; time wears; hold up your| Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely.
nead, and mince. [Exit Mrs. Quickly.| Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters, and their

lechery,
Enter Ford. Those that betray them do no treachery,

Mrs. Ford. The - draws on: To the oak
How now, master Brook? Master Brook, the mat-|to ee d. ‘The hour draws OG: oP Beeunt
ter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in }
he aia midnight, at Herne’s oak, and you|/so@“RNWE IV.—Windsor Park. Enter Sir Hugh
shall see wonders. wee Feieioe:

Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as} Evan, Se Se
you told me you had appointed ?

Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you see,/your }
like a poor old man: but I came from her, master|the pit ;
Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave, Ipid you: Come, come; trib, trib.
Ford her husband, hath the finest mad devil of|
jealousy in him, master Brook, that ever soverned| SCENE V.—Another part of the Park. Enter
phrensy. I will tell you.—He beat me grievously, | Falstaff disguised, with a buck’s head on.

roman ; » shape an, | :

en ioe i care reer ede Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the
beam; because I know also, life isa shuttle. I am minute draws on: Now, the hot-blooded gods assist
in haste, go along with me; I’ll tell you all, mas-|‘"° !—Remember, Jove, thou wast @ bull for thy
ter Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, | Europa ; love set on thy horns.—O powerful love!
and whipped top, I knew not what it was to be| that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; in
beaten, tilllately. Follow me: Ill tell you strange | some other, a2 mana beast.—¥ ou were also, Jupiter,
things of this knave Ford : on whom to-night I will|® S¥ 92) for the love of Leda; O, omnipotent
be revenged, and I will deliver his wile into your| ove § ee the god drew to the complexion ol
hand.—Follow: Strange things in hand, master|* SY°°° '—A fault done first in the form of a beast ;
Brook! follow. [Exeunt. |—O Jove, a beastly fault! and then another fault

lin the semblance of a fowl]; think on’t, Jove; a

hold:? This is the third time; I hope good luck
lies in odd numbers. Away, go; they say, there
is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity,
chance, or death.—Away.

 

Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember
arts: be pold, I pray you; follow me into
and when I give the watch-’ords, do as I
[ Eaxeunt.

SCENE Il.— Windsor Park. Enter Page, Shal-| foul fault.—V\ h¢ n gods have hot backs, what shall
low, and Slender. jpoor men do ) For me, I am here a Windsor stag ;
land the fattest, 1 think, 7 the forest: send me a

cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss
;

|my tallow! Who comes here? my doe !

Page. Come, come; we'll couch ?’ the castle-
ditch, till we see the light of our fairies. —Remem-
ber, son Slender, my daughter.

Slen. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and Enter Mrs.
we have a nay-word,? how to know one another. | tS eet 9 ei .
I come to her in white, and ery, mum; she cries,|,, igs by ei ‘We John ? art thou there, my deer?
budget ; and by that we know one another. eo VI : 4, satel OO , :

Shal. That’s good too: But what needs either) ni, 1, Pe wo black scut?—Let the say

m aw eee ener) rain potatoes, let it thunder to the tune of Gr
your mum, or her budget ? the white will decipher| sjperes. hail kissing coml Reg limes ol Green
her well enough:—It hath struck ten o’clock, + thes _s ‘a a ae and moe ve, ee

Page. The night is dark ; light and spirits will rath ogh ee a ne YT ed t will
become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No thas nD ae. ‘Mietr ; _ Embracing her,
man means evil but the devil, and we shall knowlewecthes erat listress Page is come with me,
him by his horns. Let’s away; follow me. fe : Picia or

a ‘al. Divide me like a bribe-buck, eacha haunch:
[Exeunt, I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the

fellow? of this walk, and mv horns I be queath your

Ford and Mrs. Page.

SCENE Il..—The Street in Windsor. Enter|yuchana Am I Pha! §
. aad isbands, } a woodma ha neon le ;
Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Dr. Catus. ie tt ca Sean Dn) Open oe
Herne the hunter ?—Why, now is Cupid a child of
. , l¢onscience: he makes restitutio slam at
Mrs. Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in|. + ws ee. a Jam a true
. ‘ Spun 5 we leom LN LS? wtthin

greek: When you see your time, take her by the} “jg. Paoe Alas! wl a,
and, away with her to the deanery, and despatch} ~ eves Ot aes ee) ee
‘ ag Le : ; ‘ J? i | Mrs. Ford. Heaven for t resins!
it quickly: Go before into the park; we two must); py W on srr
go together. al, hat should this be !
Caius. I know vat I have todo; Adieu. Mire Pave
Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit Caius.]| “py Ve
My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse |
of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the doctor’s marry-
ing my daughter: but ’tis no matter ; better a lit-
tle chiding, thama great deal of heart-break. |\Enter Sir Hugh Evans, like a satyr: Mr al,
Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop| and Pistol; Anne Page, as ¢/ Ti oe
of fairies ? and the Welsh devil, Hugh? i Staal bua her doothee nt ca ee
Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit hard fairies, with waxen “a a a dressed like
by Herne’s oak, with obscured lights; which, at| go capa’ sak oe

(1) Keep to the time,

¢ Away, away, | They run off.

Fal. hink, the devil will not h
a _ I me , the de vil will not have me damned,
| e 1 ol that isin me should set hell on fire: he
iwould never else cross me thus.

Quick, Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,

2) Watch-word, , .
(2) ord (3) Keeper of the forest,Scene V. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 69

You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night, | Lust is but » vloody fire,
You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny, Kindled with unchaste desire,
Attend your office, and your quality,'—— Fed in heart: whose flames aspire,
Crier Hobg roblin, make the fairy o-yes, 1s thoughts do blow them, higher and higher, '
Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy! Pinch him, fairies, mutually ;
toys. p inch him jor his villany ;

A com i » Windsor « , himne ys sha alt tt aa le Lp): Pine h him, and burn him, and turn him about
ne : : this ; @ : hy ywearthe ,
here fires thou find’st unrak’d, and hearths un-| Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine, be out.
swep }
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry :? Drei ed .
Gao sadlant Guniel baten ida and slutty During this song, the fairies pinch Falstaff. Doe-
+. ee ae ee ae y° tor Caius com new
Fal. They are fairies: he, that speaks to them aan comes one way, and steals away a fairy
aot aie ‘) tm green; Slender another w ay, and takes off a
it witty oo oneal fairy in white ; and Fenton comes, and steals
l wink and couch: No man their works must eye. | wee Mr )
7 ape ett 4 ‘ ny Anne Page. 4 noise of hunting is
4 aes were m SONS: rade within, a the fairies run away, Falstaff
Eva, Where's Peds GO you, and wiit you ir} } ; ”
. Ats buck s head and TiUses.

find a maid, ca P
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, ie a ,
Raise up the organs of her fantasy, Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, and Mrs. Ford,
Sleep she as sound ‘ ele infancy = Lhe Y lay hold on him.
But those as sleep, and think not on tl :

Pinch them, arms, le ba ks houlder le Page. Nay, do not fly: I think, we have watch’d

’ Ls. }
snd shins you now ;
Quick. About, about Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?
5 = . s* ; .
Search Windsor castle. elves. within and out Mrs. Pege. | pray you, come; hold up the jest
Strew good luck, or es, on ever’ cred room : , , Dw
; a‘ ; ; } ™* .
That it may stand till t nernetiual doon Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives ?
In state as w som in Bini eesti 2 ; you these, husband? do not these fair yokes*
a iat ieee 1 ees ae bb forest better than the town?

Wo ii : CPV Tie : it.
rT? on i Los i j “ a Pe l. Nov ‘ if. who’s i. cuckold now )_— Masti
l rf i Cal ‘ : lit : : % ‘ rl ry -— yo r
Witte bel ei ade atl avery veenings Sow, B , Palstaff’s a knave, a cuckoldly knave ; here
i Ui iidiimnernt enat and on saute horns, master Brook: And, master Brook,
With tovel bles a ’ cd hath enjoyed nothing of Ford’s but his buck-
& ad ahah tine faint ' sleet mie et, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money ;
Like to the Garter’s cor ; rj : must be paid to master Brook; his horses
one 4 . tos 26 % } i | it. mastel Br yk.
Che expressure that it bears, green let 1 ' aa —. ,

we fertile-fresh than all 1 Rald 4 ; 7 . Sir John, we have had ill luck: we
Mi ore tert le *iTe’sil Ani ii w iit i ’ Se ; * ?

And, He si lw pense. writ 1 ney t. Twill never take you for my
in ibis dienes dene | eel wikttn . (HO . but I will always count you my deer.

} neraiad tu “ (Tr Se , a iW : . . .

ee ke ae : Fal. 1 do begin to perceive that [am made an
Like sappiuire, [» i, a A Fits € ‘ ; / ,
Buckled below fiir knight i's | y xnce ; | 4)
ere (| Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are

chit it Ls 7 v , § .
Away; dispers But \] ‘ .. aw ot ieee )

Our dance of custom, row 7 Fal, And t » are not fairies? I was three or
ti beh iit' itt bs * | ; A, toot
Of Herne the hunt bi + fnriret four times 1 thought, they were not fairies :

— _ 7. s 2 wna wet i ruiltiness of my mind, the sudden sur-

of my powers, drove the grossness of the fop-

in order set ye . ; : .
nd twenty dloweworms shall our lanterns |} y into a received belief, in despite of the teeth
To the mee ensure round apout the tres {f all rhyme ar l reas Mh, that th y were fairies.
ou tree eee rer ee now, | wit may be made a Jack-a-lent,
ou x : > Tie .
: a. whan Mis wm ‘ll employment !
Fal. Heavens defend me from that \\ i dary. | ee a ov ms eee
| ’ he trar f rin me to a pre ni cheens ! : iva, Ou J nt) i Ist; ill, serve Gi rt, and leave
sth insiorm mie a piece o1 ip eA 1 fai vill not 1
i a8 . your desires, and fairies will not pinse you,
Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o’er-look’d even in = t : *
thy birth , Ford, Well : Lidl, fairy Hugh,
Ovuick With tr l_fire tonch me his fincer end E And | ive you your je alousies too, I pray
< . st : aid : : =
he be chaste, the flame will b ek 1 end me ‘ ’ .
7 1 turn him to no ee ree elie Ford. 1 will never mistrust my wife again, till
d turn him to no] 1s Dut start, . ‘
es: Mili ’ c ? ; thou art able to woo her in good English,
tim tne fesn ol 1 COTTUDLEU I . . . . °
Pist ook ep mop Fal. Have I Jaid my brain in the sun, and dried
Eva. mates Phi: ‘ll this wood take fire 7\'4 that it wants matter to prevent so gross o’er-
a [T/ vt buon Aim with thelr tenere, reaching as | is? Am I ridden with a Welch goat
ma Ok. th. oh! n so T"\to0? Shall [have a coxcomb of frizge?® ’tis time
: i } ory Ol : . — . -
-e 7 co kt me - » || were choaked with a piece of toasted cheese,
Quick. Corrupt. corrupt, and tainted in desire ! ‘ ; :
, at be nie ol Eva. Seese is not good to give putter; your
About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme iy i aie d
’ ©. ’ e 9 nul is
And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. 1 4 eo
Iti Tiel 1s fod 1 he is full of lecheri ' Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at
sf @ _ oe ry f re * tii fit ecnperté “LT i. 4 7 ~ * 4
4 it, ae TERE 5 SO as the taunt of one that makes fritters of English?
; vy a ; . ~
iniquity. his is enough to be the decay of lust and late-
SONG, walking, through the realm.

nat? Pantade § | Mrs. Page, Why, sir John, do you think, though
eon ainful fantasy | i ; ‘ P
se On Sens JO : lwe would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by

Fie on lust and luxury !

1) Fellowship. Whortleberry. | (4) Horns which Falstaff had.
3 The letters. ") | (5) A fool’s cap of Welch materials,MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Act V

I ha? married un gargon, a boy; wun par
it is not Anne Page: by gar, I

wr

the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves|cozened :

without scruple to hell, that ever the devil meee by ear, a boy ;

have made you our delight ? am cozened,. i i?
Ford. What, a hodge-pudding ? a bag of flax?| Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green?

. ‘ . : ot Naess a EF ots ;
Mrs. Page. A pulfed man ? Caius. Ay, be gar, and us a boy TE ee

 

_ Old, cold, withered and of intolerable|raise all Windsor. :
dee Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right
: Anne?

Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan ? me |
Page. And as poor as Job? + Page. My heart misgives mine: Here comes mas-
Ford. And as wicked as his wife ?
Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, | , : :
and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drink-| Enter Fenton and Anne Page.
ings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and|
prabbles ? |How now master Fenton ‘
’ , e — ort * ow : es
Fal. Well, Iam your theme: you have the start| Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother

ter Fenton.

n . arc
of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer pardgn !
: : . + D0 Ane Ty S otnnine Pe an :
the Welch flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet) Page. Now, maetrew how chanee you went
o’er me: use me as you will. er with master Slender !
Mrs. Pare. Why went you not with master doc-

Ford. Marry, sir, we’ll bring you to Windsor, |
2 s >| " ot }

to one master Brook, that you have cozened of|tor, m Lid | >

money, to whom you should have been a pander :| Fent. You do amaze? her: Hear the truth of it.

over and above that you have suffered, I think, to] You would have married her most shametully,

repay that money will be a biting affliction. \Where there was no proportion held in love.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, Jet that go to make| The truth is, she and I, long since contracted,
| Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us.

amends : 5
Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. |The offence is holy, that she hath committed :

Ford. Well, here’s my hand; all’s forgiven at And this deceit loses the name of cratt,

last. : Of disobedience, or unduteous title ;

Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a Since therein she doth evitate* and shun
posset to-night at my house; where I will desire| A thousand irr ligious cursed hours,
thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee :| Vv hich forced marriage would have brought upon
Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter. |

Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that: If Anne Page| Ford. Stand not amaz’d: here is no remedy :—
be my daughter, she iS, by this, doctor Caius’ W ile. In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state :

Aside. |Moncy buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
| Fal. lam glad, though you have ta’en a special

her.

Enter Slender. stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.
Dye | he . Vy , ‘ :
: | Pare. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give
Slen. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page! than anv 4 . ; ”
son? how 9 ; 5 abetted 2 ; aa * ‘ :
4 zen eae how now? how now, son? have you} yVhat cannot be eschew’d, must be embrae’d.
espatched : Fal, Whe ght-dogs r a ‘ts of deer ar
— Fal, ien night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are
Slen. Despatched—I’ll make the best in Gloces- chas’d .
shire k 4 e wr were hance . lea | ‘ pe age
tershire know on’t ; would I were hanged, la, else.} Eya, I will dance and eat plumbs at your wed-
Page. Of what, son ? ding ,
MJ r sy £ 7 arry iety rec | A 5" y ; *
Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistres Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :—
Anne Page, and she’s a great lubberly boy: If it Master Fenton
Ma ,

nee not pean ee I roe re T did d) Heaven give you many, many merry days!
think it ed ae c ee Pace a id I { I did not}Good husband, let us every one go home,
© > f > 977A uv i ‘yer . . 3 .
Pe Sena ee ee OR, would I might never) And laugh this sport o’er by a country fire ;
stir, and ’tis a post-master’s boy. cs. John and all. ’ :
Page. Upon my life then, you took the wrong. Ford wr ae
, J . as : ord, et it be so:—Sir John
Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so,|'~ aster Brook ¥ le als }
ne : t »/To master Brook you vet shall hold vour word :
when I took a boy for a girl: If I had been mar-! Por he. to-nicht, shall lie with Mrs, Ford
“ . ° ; ; , sid, g ile : sh IS bMie
ried to him, for all he was in woman’s apparel, | | Freunt
‘ [ ~ Lew
would not have had him. a hee
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I|
tell you, how you should know my daughter by her|
garments ?
Slen. I went to her in white, and cry’d mwm, |
and she cry’d budget, as Anne and I hadappointed;|_ Of this play tnere 1s a tradition preserved by Mr
and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master’s boy. |Rowe, that it was written at the command of
. ! | 9¢ > . , oy .< . F } 3° l . ; -
Eva. Jeshu! ae Slender, cannot you see} Queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the
but marry poys: character of Falstafi. that she is} : te
L ‘ jc ilstafl, that she wished it to be dif-
Page. O, lam vexed at heart: What shall Ido?|fused through more plays; but suspecting that it
r Mrs. case: Good George, be not angry: Ijmight pall by continued uniformity, directed the
new of your purpose; turned my daughter into|poet to diversify his manner, by showing him in

green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at/love. No task is harder than that of writing to th
Lint I ig | he

the deanery, and there married, lideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the qu
AC . LAS | i ‘ thet Lil queen
} — our . . . 7. } ¥.
inetd Catiie if the story he th ule, seems not to have known, that
4 /Qlus, iby any real passion ot tenderness, the selfish craft
‘ raft,

ithe careless jollitvy, and the lazy rofl F F
, > . 5 ay ‘ ss Jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff
Caius. Vere is mistress Page? By gar, I am|must have suffered so much abatement, that little
lof his former cast would have remained. F f
1) Corifeun Je 4 a d have remained. Falstaff
(1) ound her by your questions, (2) Avoid.!could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff, HeMERRY WIVES
could only counterfeit love, and his professions
could be prompted, not by the hope of ple asure,
but of money. Thus the poet approached as near
as he could to the work enjoined him ;
pe oe in the
ide:

vet having
former plays completed his own
seems not to have been able to give Falstaff
all hie former power of entertainment.

This comedy is remarkable for the variety and
number of the who exhibit more cha-
racters a and discriminated,
hapscan be ny other

Whether Sh ikspeare ,
upon the by
torted

at ’
nunciat

pant SOnAes,

ppropriated than per-

found in ; play.

was the first that produced
iwlish stage the effect of lane
le praved by provincial

unre dis<|1
and ¢ ir foreign pro-|:

This mod

ion, | cannot certainly decide

OF WINDSOR. 71
of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise
‘only on him who originally discovered it, for it re-
quires not much of either wit or judgment ; its
success must be derived almost wholly from. the
player, but its power ina skilful mouth, even he
that de espises it, is unable to resist.

The condue t of this drama is deficient; the ac-
tion begins and ends often, before the conclusion,
and the different parts might change places with-
oul inconvenience ; but its general power, that
power by which all works of genius shall finally
be tried, is such, that perhaps it never yet had

or spec tator who did not think it too soon

ader
JOHNSON

t the end,A
a
43

i

rae

Be Eat

0

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
   

Orsino, duke of Illyria, ki Olivia, a rich countess.
Sebastian, a young gentleman, brother to Viola, |Viola, im love with the duke.
Antonio, a sea-captain, friend to Sebastian. |Maria, Olivia’s woman.
A sea-captain, friend to Viola.

Voloannes gentlemen, attending on the duke. : oe
Curio, 3 | Lords, priests, sailors, officers, musicians, and other
Sir Toby Belch, uncle of Olivia. , attendants

* ? , lendants,
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Malvolio, steward to Olivia.
Fabian,
Clown,

‘Scene, a city in Illyria; and the sea-coast near tt.

i

$ servants to Olivia.

 

 

ACT <1. \Hath kill’d the flock of all affections else
hat live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
SCENE I.—An apartment in the Duke’s palace. These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill’d,

Enter Duke, Curio, Lords ; musicians altending. |' Her sweet perfections,) with one self king !—
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers :

Duke. Loyve-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers
Ir music be the food of love, play on, [Breunt
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, SCENE II.—The sea-coast. Enter Viola, Cap
The appetite may sicken, and so die.—— tain, and Sailors.
That strain again ;—it had a dying fall: i eae . —_—
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet south, Vio. What country, friends, is this?
That breathes upon a bank of violets, Cap. ; Illyria, lady.
Stealing, and giving odour.—Enough ; nc more ; a io. And what should I do in Hlyria ¢

fore \fy brother he ts in Elysium.

Tis not so sweet now, as it was belore.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou !

That notwithstanding thy capacity | ee sailors?

Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, | Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were

Perchance, he is not drown’d:—What think you,

Of what validity! and pitch soever,
But falls into ea ntnincti and low price, O my poor brother! and so, perchanee,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, may he be
That it alone is high-fantastical.* : Cap. True, madam: and, to comfort you with
Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? chance,
Duke. i ls What. Curio? Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
Cur. The hart. |V hen you, and that poor number saved with you,
Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,

Viost provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and hope both teaching him the prac.

tice)

O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

Methought, she purg’d the air of pestilence ;

That instant was I turn’d into a hart; s

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, | To a strong n

FE’er since pursue me.—How now? what news|! here, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,
from her ? I saw him hold acquaintance with the w aves,

590 lone as I could see.

ast, that lived upon the sea ;

Enter Valentine. | Fito. he saying so, there’s gold:
vine own eseape unfoldeth to my hope
Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted,| Whereto thy speech " rv : for ae rit
But from her handmaid do return this answer: |The like of him Ky al tall Where this alae
The element itself, till seven years heat,? eat a inatlew., ‘ at c I etm )
Shall not behold her face at ample view ; ) en ee was bred and
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, | Not three hours’ travel from this very place.
And water once a day her chamber round, Vio. Who governs here ? :
With eye-oflending brine: all this, to season | Cap eo le duke, i
A brother’s dead love, which she would keep fresh,| As 4 his name A nobis Guke, nature,
And lasting, in her sad remembrance. ans 2 What is his ne ?
Duke. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame.|, Cap a oe .
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, | en Orsino! Thave hear i my father n: Orsino,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft He was a bachelor then, ra my father name him :

|
'

(1) Value. (2) Fantastical to the height. —! (3) Heated,Scene [2

~Y
Cap. An

Or was 80 very late ; for but a mont
Ago Il went from he nee; and then ’twas fresh rut t
In murmur (as, you know, what creat ones do ust

The less will prattle ol,) that he did seel

The love of fair Olivia.

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 73

d
i so is now Jar. He hath, indeed,—almost natural : for, be-
ith sides that he’s a fool, he’s a great quarreller; and,
but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the
n quarrelling, ’tis thought among

K rudent, he would quickly have the gift of a

; RUSE NC Daun

saha

Vio. What's she ? Sir To. By this hand. 1}

and, they are scoundrels, and

Cap. A virtuous maid, the aau hiter of a count Stile ret s. that Say SO Ol him. WW ho are they ?
That died some tweivemonth since: then leavin Mar. They that add moreover, he’s drunk night-
ne! ly in rcompany .
In the ae ction of his son, her brother, Sur io. With drinking healths to my niece; Pll
W no shortly also died: for whose Uk love, drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my
hey say, she hath abjur’d the « (drink in Llyria: he’s a coward and a

And si rht of me ‘

yystril.> { vill not drink to my niece, till his
* the toe, like a parish-top, What,
lor here comes sir An-

_ Cap That we ird to com Enter Sir Andrew Acue-cheek.
Because she will admit kind of
N o. not the duke’s S sir Toby Belch! how now, sir Toby
! here is fair | \ in the ‘ ‘ Belch
; dt il : thet ' ; wit | \ j 4 y

1) th ott close in p i} \ ' . ol b . j
I will believe. thou h \ , SI
With t} stny |] if ' | : Wy iccost,
I pray t i nd It]
Conceal me what | . her-maid.
For such disguise as i rnaistress Accost, | desire better

| fo = . | i

Thou st It n VI , si
It may be wo I : : Jind, G Lm ’ Mary Accost,——

And speak to him \ isht; aeecost, is, front
That will a \ i . il her,
What else may ly ; ir ind, By my troth, I would not undertake
Only sha thou thy s ‘ vo AB ' meaning of accost?

Cap. Be you his « iy "e ' l, nulemen.
When my tongrur . eh rt so, sir Andrew, ’would
Vi ° it nk : i } ' ara sword again,
in you rt so, mistress, I would I
SCENE III.—A room in O : lagal Pair lady, do you
. | } .
Sir y B MM 3 :
4 hw ft h nd,

Sir To. Whata pl 1

eariier 0 hights: your

; . : _ } y :
tive CQ i | rf : ' ; a
s ew t tii
an cneimmy to i}
2 , ; - ys ..}
ar. By rUuh, Si i '\
; .
:

exceptions to your ill hou
aur lo. \\ ny, let ner «x
«War. Ay, but you must «
the modest limits of order.
Sir To. Confine ? I'l) conf
lam: these clothes are
and so be these boots too:
hang themselves in their
Mar. That quaffing and d
heard my lady talk of i

b

Mar. Ay, he.
Sir To. He's as tall? a m

Mar. What's that to the

Sir To. Why, he has th:

year.
“War. Ay, but he'll have

ducats; he’s a very fool, an

Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o’the| Sir 4nd. W

viol-de-zgambo, and speaks th
word for word without book

gifts of nature.

(1) Approve.

NI 7. you shall have ; and here’s

\ ir, thought is free ; I pray you, bring
— ' y-Dar, and let it drink,
' what’s your

ys : : of ,¥ Lore, yveewpeanrt !

i i I ¢ Sir ff \ oe >: Lam nof such an ass,
L ke yhanddry. But what’s your jest?

’ ’ ‘ } ‘ L nf’ ot
mi f ! /tTtt. i ’ itull of them ?

; “* ‘ ‘ ‘ > &
in they pot, | m| .War. , Sir; I have them at my fingers’ ends:

ind, | am barren.
| Exit Maria.
vesterday : | of wr to, O] , thou lack’st a cup of canary
ight in one n t here,’ when did Is » put down?
Sirind. Never in your life, I think: unless you
methinks, sometimes |
ristian, or an ordinary
n as any’s in Illyria. n : but I am a great eater of beef, and, 1
LO my wit.
' ‘Jind. An | thought that, ’d forswear it. I’)
hut . year I] these ri OTT LO- OW, Sir Te by.
da prod # ‘ir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight
urquoy f d

)
lo or not do? I
ms ‘ i wed that time in the tongues,
, and hath all the ; that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting :
O, had I but followed the arts !

(3) Keystril, a bastard hawk,
hk

2a EN sae ed a74
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head

of hair. as
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair?

Sir To. Past question ; for thou scest, it will not

curl by nature. |
Sir And, But it becomes me well enough, does”t

not

taff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee be-
tween her legs, and spin it off.

Sir And. ’Faith, Pil home to-morrow, sir Tol

ays

your niece will not be seen ; or, if slic be, it?s four|

1

to one she'll none of me: the count himself, here
hard by, woos her.

Sir To. She'll none o’ the count : she’tl not match
above her degrce, neither in estate, years, nor wil
I have heard her swear it. ‘Tut, there’s lite in’t,
man.

Jow o’ the strangest mind 7 the world; I delight in
masques and revels sometimes altog ther.

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws,
knight ?

Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever li
be, under the degree of my betters ; and yet I will
not compare with an old man.

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard,
knight ?

Sir And. Faith, I can cut a caper.

Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to’t.

Sir And. And, I think, I have the back-trick,
simply as strong as any man in Illyria.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid ? where-
fore have these gifts a curtain before them? are
they like to take dust, like mistress Mall’s picture ?

Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard,|

and come home in a coranto? My very walk
should be a jig; I would not so much as make

water, but’ in a sink-a-pace.!| What dost thou|

mean ? is ita world to hide virtues in? I did think,
by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was
formed under the star of a galliard.

Sir And. Ay, ’tis strong, and it does indifferent
well in a flame-coloured stock.? Shall we set about
some revels ?

Sir To. What shall we do else ? were we not
born under Taurus ?

Sir And. Taurus? that’s sides and heart.

Sir To. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me
see thee caper: ha! higher: ha, ha!—excellent!

| Exeunt.

SCENE IV.— A room in the Duke’s palace. En-

ter Valentine, and Viola in man’s attire.

Val. If the duke continue these favours towards

yom Cesario, you are like to be much advanced ;|

e hath known you but three days, and already
you are no stranger.
Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli-
ence, that you call in question the continuance of
is love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours ?
Val. No, believe me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and attendants.

Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.

Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho?

Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here.

Duke. Stand you awhile aloof.—Cesario,
Thou know’st no less but all ; I have unclasp’d

tH Cin we-pace, the name of a dance,
(2) Stocking. — (3) Go thy way.
(4) Full of impediments,

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

2?
Sir To. Excellent ; it hangs like flax on a dis-|

Sir And. Pll stay a month longer. Tam a fel-|

Act L

  

To thee the book even of my sé cret soul :
at henctore, cood youth, address thy gait? unto her ;
Be not deny’d access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed Loot shall grow,
Vill thou have audience.
| Vio. Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon’d to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me. —
| Puke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
'Rather than make unprofited return.
| Vio, Say, 1 do speak with her, my lord; what
then?

Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love,
|Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
it shall become thee well to act my Woes ;
She will attend it beiter in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspéct.

Vio. I think not so, my lord.

Duke. Dear Jad, believe it,
lor they shall yet belie thy happy years
That say, thou rt a man: Diana’s lip

Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe
ils as the maiden’s organ, shrill and sound,

And all is semblative a woman’s part.

| know, thy constellation is right apt

 

“7%

‘For this aflair:—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 [.4side.] a barful* strife !
Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife,
[Exeunt.

ISCENE V.—4 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 as a bristle may
‘enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will bang
thee for thy absence.

Clo. Let her hang me: he, that is well hanged
in this world, needs to fear no colours,

Mar. Make that good.

Clo. He shall see none to fear.

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 to

ay 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
labsent: or, to be turned away, is not that as good
as a hanging to you? : ;

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar-
and, for turning away, let summer bear it

whe To *
riage 5

lout.
Mar. You are resolute then ?
Clo. Not so neither; but 1 am resolved on two
} points.”

| Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold ; or
|if both break, your gaskins fall.

| Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go thy
jsvay ; if sir ‘Toby would leave drinking, thou wert
jas witty a piece of Eve’s flesh as any in Illyria.

ry’ Jorce ) P i . ‘

| Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o’ that; here
comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you
were best. | Exit

|
|
i
|

,

(5) Short and spare.
. > meen’ ni i re : 7
| (6) Points were hooks which fastened the hose
lor breeches,PWELPTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 79
Ente) Olivia and NI ilvolio. Re-enter Maria.
Clo. Vv lent be thy will, pul me into wood fon) VW

r. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen-

me! ‘Those wits, that think they have thee, do very | tleman. much de sires to speak with you.
om prove fools ; and |, that am sure I lack thee, Ol, From the count Orsino, is jt?
nay pass lor a wise man: for what says Quin ypa-| Mar. L know not, madain : ’tis a fair young man,
lus? Better a witty fool, than volt Ww God and well attended,
bless thee, lady! O Who of my people hold him in delay ?

Ol. Take the fool away. AMar, Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman,

Cf. Do you not hear, fellows? tak way the Oi. Fetch him off, I pray you: he speaks no-
lady. l

nin but Mma Iman: fie on him! | ait Maria. (0
Oli. Go to, you are a dry fool: Pll no more of you. Matvolio ; if it be a suit from the count, am

vou: besid you crow dishonest » Or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it.
Clo. Two faults, madon drink and 1|\ | £awt Malvolio.] Now you sec, sir, how your fovul-
i | wil tend: for oly | iry f | drinl i] wo} old ind people dislike it.
then is the fool not dry bid the dishonest m { lhou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy
himesecil; if he mend, he is no lon dishonest; if eidest son should be a fool: whose skull Jove cram
nd, he }
ne cannol, tet the botcher mend him: any thine, with brains, f here he comes, one of thy kin, has
that’s mended, is but patelhs i: Virtue, that trans- most weak pra mater.
CASCS, } bart patehe t! Wi 1 1 Sin, ft
; ; 1 ¥ . cme *YS } ° “
mc? S. Is put matches wilh Virtite : it ti 3 is Enter Su loby Bel h.
' ; ; ; 1} ;
imple syllogisnywill serve, so: if j will not, wha a ae : : ; :
oe : Oh. By mine honour, half drunk.—What is he
rCcTneay As Lrere is no tri cucko 1 DULL CalaAml vo ;
: 7 tthe rat ‘ousI
so beauty « i flower :-—the lady has tal yt +}, . c, f i
fool: the ; | s | sree” hart ae: oir Jo. A gentleman.
oot : nHcrei ore, “ny yun, 1 he wr Tay. ; . .
Oli. Bir. I bade t sa) Oh, A gentleman ? What centleman?
ii. Si Dade them take away vou. —oa ,
cy 7) ae weeks ge "4 ae de Str to. *Tis a gentleman here—A plague o
io. is LS Ss St) } Hit st Tt nam | ela j :
Pineeiins j . .. ae vse pickle-herrings !—~How now, sot?
“CNMUS Non facil mona . 3 . much : ’ i ry
; . ' Cio, Good sir Toby,——
a say, l wear not m vevin my mm. «(\ i ma- : :
: Oh, Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early
Gonna, give me leave to | rv YOU 4 LOO}, \ ' ; .
oe by this lethargy
Oh. Can you do jt?

Cle. Dexierously, cocd madonna. Su Po. Lechery! I defy lechery: there’s one at
7 i eater he gate,
Clo. ran ad ie yu for it, madonna: good) Vt AY, marry; wh ut is he?
my mouse of virtue, answer me. Sir To, | et him be the devil, an he will, I care
Oli. Well, sir, fa want of other idleness. [ll nol: give me Muth, Say Ki Well, it’s all one, f
"uhh: ‘genie rend au = [ Exit.
Clo. Good madonna. why mourn’st thou ? Ou. What's & drunken man like, fool |
Oli. Good foo! for my brother’s deat Clo. Lik L ee man, a fool, and a mad-
Clo. 1 think ho soul is in hy a : + ! nh: one dt uf iit above heat makes him a fool ;
rg Peerage soul is in heaven, fool. the second mads him : and a third drowns him. |
Cla. The tilde thel ven: madonne. tas — Ol . Go thou and sec k the coroner, and let him
— nt ee en Set Bacar ve ogee ' ilo’ my coz; for he’s in the third degree of drink,
oe * ioe or Te ~~ * |he’s drown’d ro, look after him.
Un ae a u of this fool. Malvolic? dat Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna: and the fool
Ya a eo p TRAIN all look Lo the madman, | Exit Clown.
not men
Mal, “pend and sh ll do, till t

, till r , baw ra? '

shake him : intirmiiy, t ' om ' “i : en A Malvolio.

ever make the better fool. Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will
Clo. God send you, sir. a « ly infirmity, for) speak with vou | told him you were sick: he takes

the better increasing vour folly! Sir Toby ill | um to understand so much, and therefore comes

sworn, that I am no fox: but will not mMs'to speak with you: I told him you were asleep; he

word for two-pe nee that you are no f |

; secmms to have a fore-knowledge of that too, and
Oli. How say you to that. Malvolio ? '

; ilvolio crelore comes to speak with you. What isto be

Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delicht i ul to him, lady? he’s fortified. against any denial,
such a barren raseal: I saw him put down | O fell him, he shall not speak with me.
other day with an ordinary fool. that |} no mo Mal. He s been told so: and he says, he'll
brain than a stone. Look vou 1 w, he’s out of hi tand at your door like a sheriff’s post, and be the
euard already: unl you laugh and minister oc-|supporter of a bench, but he’ll speak with you.
casion to him, he is ¢a ' I p olest, I take thes Oi. What Kind of man is he
wise men. that crow so at the ct kind of fools. Val. Why, of man kind.
no better than the fools’ zanies. Ol, What n er of man /

Oh, O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and| Mel. Of yer, ul manner: hell speak with you,
taste with a distempered appet te. To be generous, | y il you, or no Z
guiltless. and of free dis ition, is to take thos: On. Ol what personage, and years, is he ?
things for bird-bolts,? t) if you deem cannon-bul-| Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young
Jets : there is no slander in an allowed fool, though! enou. h fora Wy ; as a squash is before ’tis a peas-
he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known!cod. or a codline when ’tis almost an apple: "tis
discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove, |with him e’en st inding water, between boy and

Clo, Now Mercury endue thee with leasing,‘;man. He is vers well-favoured, and he speaks

for thou speakest well of fools! very shrewishly ; one would think, his mother’s
ml were scarce oul of him.

(1) Italian, mistress, dame. (2) Fools’ baubles. = .
(3) Short arrows. (4) Lying. (5) The cover of the brain,76 TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

Oli. Let him approach: callin my gentlewoman.
Mal. Gentlewoman, my lady calls.

Re-enter Maria.
Oli. Give me my veil: come, throw it o’er my
ace ;
We'll once more hear Orsino’s embassy
Enter Viola.

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which
is she ?

Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your
will ?
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, I have taken great pains to con
it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; fan
very comptible,! even to the least sinister usage.

Oli. Whence came you, sir?

Vio. I can say little more than 1 haye studied,
and that question’s out of my part. ‘
one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lad
of the house, that I may proceed in my speecn

Oli. Are you a comedian ?

Vio. No, my profound heart:
very fangs of malice, I swear, fam not that I piay.
Are you the lady of the house ?

Oli, If I do not usurp myself, Iam.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours
to reserve. But this is from my commissi vi
on with my speech in your praise, and then show
you the heart of my message.

Oli. Come to what is impartant in’t: I forgiv:
you the praise.

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it,
*tis poetical.

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you
keep itin. I heard, you were saucy at my 5
and allowed your approach, rather to wol
you than to hear you. If you be not mad,
gone; if you have reason, be brief: tis no!
time of moon with me, to make one in so
a dialogue.

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way.

Vio. No, rood swabber: I am to hull here
little longer.—Some mollification for your giant,?
sweet lady. '

Oli. Tell me your mind.

Vio. [am a messenger.

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de-
liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak
your office.

Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I[ bring no
overture of war, no taxation of homage; [ hold
the olive in my hand: my words are as full of peace
as matter, -

Oli. Yet you began rudely.
what would you? —

and yet,

What are you

|

‘his heart.

|

|
|

Vio. The rudeness that hath appear’d in me,)

have I learn’d from my entertainment. WhatTam,

and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to

your ears, divinity; to any other’s, profanation.
Oli, Give us the place alone: we will hear this

divinity. [ Exit Maria.| Now; sir, what is your text?
Vio. Most sweet lady,——

(1) Accountable.
(2
that the original actress of Maria was very short.

it appears from several parts of this play, |

|
}
|
|
|
}
|

}

 

necrociate with my face :
+

this present :°

Heiled tO my¥ Wii: a

To tell me how he takes it.

Act I.

 

Olj. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be

{[ Exit.|said of it. Where lies your text ?

Vio. In Orsino’s bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom ?

Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of
Oli. O, I have read jt ; it is heresy. Have you
no more to say ?

Vio, Good madam, let me see your face.

Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to
: you are now out of your
ut we will draw the curtain, and show you
Look you, sir, such a one as I was
is’t not well done? { Unveiling.
Vio. Excellently done, if God did all.
Oli. "Lis in grain, sir; twill endure wind and

ext:
] : a !
ne DICLUuUIc.

Vio. ’Tis beauty truly blent,* whose red and

Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on:

wady, you are the cruell’st she alive,

If you will lead these graces to the grave,

ind leave the world no copy.
Oli. O. sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will
ive out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be
‘toried: and every particle, and utensil, la-
ll: as, item, two lips indifferent red ;
tem, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one
in, and so forth. Were you sent

Vio. Isce you what you are: you are too proud :

But, if you were the devil, you are fair,

Vly jo d and master | ves YOu; O, such love
Could but b recompens’d, though you were
( | n’d , :

T mare of | I !
Liow does he love me?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
vith ns that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
Oli. Your lord does know my mind, I cannot
love him:
et I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of creat estate, of fresh and stainless youth ;
In voices well divulg’d,® free, learn’d, and valiant,
(nd, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
\ gracious person: but yet I cannot love him ;
lie 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 I would find no sense
iad ing no sense,
' wom ; nooeretannd tf
i: 1d not unagerstana li.
rile  * r
Oli. Why, what would you
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your rate,

And call upon my soul within the house ;

Write loyal eantons® of contemned love,

And sing them loud even in the dead of night ;
olla your name to the reverberate’ hills,

And make the babbling cossip of the air

I OUL, Olivia ! QO, you should not rest
2 4 ]

sctiveen the elements of air and earth,

;

sut you should pilv me.

l
nes ey
Oh. You might do much: What is your parente
.
age

Pa oa oe :
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:

I am a gentleman.

va :
Or, (yet vou to your lord :
loaf

I cannot love him: let him send no more :
A ;

nless, perchance, you come to me again,
Fare you well:

3) Présents
\ ae (4) Blended, mixed togethes
(5) Well spoken of by the world. re

(6) Cantos, verses, ‘'7) Echoing,Scene J, IJ, LT. TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YoU WILT. 77

I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. not but call fair: she is drowned already, sir, with
Vio. Lam no fee’d post,’ lady ; keep your purse ; It water, though I seem to drown her remem

My master, not myse lf, lacks re comnpense, ince again with more,

Love make his heart of flint, that youshalllove; | 4nrt. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment.
Awd let your fe rvour, like my master’s, be Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble,
Plac d in conte ps Farews il, fair cruelty. | Exit, int, i you will not murder me for my love, let

O&, What is your parentage ? me be your servant.

Above my fatenen, yel stale is well ; Seb. If you will not undo what you have done,
fam peemen, —Pi be sworn thou art; that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and t,|it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of
Do give Hiee live-told biazon :7—Not too fast:—/kindness; and Lam yet so near the manners of my
soit! soft! her, Laat upon the least occasion more, mine
Unless the master were the man.—How now ? will tell tales of me. I am bound to the
Even so quickly may one catch the placue ? t Orsino’s court: farewell. (Exit.
Methinks, I feel this youth’s perfections, Int. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee '
With an invisible and subtle steal! le | haves 'y enen s in Orsino’s court,
To ereep in at mine eyes. We! , let it — wo [ very shortly see thee there :

VW hat, ho, Malvolio !— But, co what may. I do adore thee so,

that danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Ezit.
Re-entér Malvolio

Mal. eh ee als UE ENE Il.—4 street. Enter Viola; Malvolio

O&8. Run after that same peevish ; a
The county's? man: he left this rine | | him, Mal. Wr not you even now with the countess
Would I, or not: tell him. PH, { it, Olivia ?
Desire him not to flatter with his lord. Vio. Even ' on a moderate pace I have
Nor hold him up with hopes: I am not for | ice arrived but hither.
If that the youth will come this way to- W, Val, She returns this ring to you, sir; you might
I'l] give him reasons for’t. Hie . Maly ' ved me my pains, to have taken it away
Mal. Madam, I will. . ; i moreover, that you should put

Oli. Idol anow not what: and fear tof ti surance she will none

Mir * too eal flatts . 7 “th ‘ he

Y aha i ; ‘ : i : on nN more; that You never
Fate, show thy force: ourselves) v to ¢ n in his affairs, unless it be to
VV hat is decreed, must | - and | i » | Ld ‘ ' "s tak { this. Receive it so.
} : ring of me; Pll none of it.
pte Wal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her;
; nd r will is, it should be so returned: if it be
¥ ; . : ‘-
ACT Il. 1 Si ior, there it lies In your eye; it not,
i“: ayy ryt : : : lt | . 7 ' it. [ Evit.
SCENE I.—The sea-coast. Enter A Ma Vio. } ring with her: what means this lady ?
pevaslia my outside have not charm’d her !
Ant, Will » tay no lor r? ' view of me ; in » $0 much, |
that ; go with you ? . ’ t, her eyes had lost her
Seb. By your patience, : ' +
“7 over me: the m | , ; , ; | cisirar ecly.
perhaps, distemper 3} t I ,* mr, OL HEE passion
of you your leave, that I may : ; mek E } <
it were a ba i rec Mn pen 1OT ¥ ic, ; , . ens ; ~ Sent OCr NONE.
r ; ’ tf a Ll }
of them on you. } 4
int ty yet | f lov dream
. Phas ‘ ’ i
bound i } \ iH
Seh. No , ir: w my does much.
‘ ; i i roper-falee
mere extray ney But | '
cellent a touch of modest ' Sé iT LOrimn
; ( | nol we
from me what lam ; We ;
yf. ch we be,
1k charges m im WT a ;
m' if You must | ‘ i iva ter loves her dearly ,
i eit. ‘ A Ebiil : \ ’ » : :
“ ep aia 1 'p i ter, fond as much on him;
lame 18 Scbastian, ‘ =
father was that Scbast iM ., I}: , a oe
| y ' h \ ; 1 : \ 1 tf As | am man,
now, ol lave i “
= elf, and a sister, | ; : Tf i late 18 < race for my master’s love;
nys nd a sister, | I : i ; ; | ’
; : as % : : La | n woman, rw aias the dav!
w?wavens had bet ! en 5 ’ ; ; ti FP
At but yor sot as 4 What thrift! hall poor Olivia breathe ?
ender ) 1, Sirf, : ' ; . _ ver} lis
before you took me from the b: hol ; . ed eet a = m1 Exil
my sister drowned. — 0 hard a xnot lor me to unues Mee.
“Int. Alas, the day ! CENE UI.—<A 1 in Olivia’s house. Enter
. : . ; t : ‘+ ; } vy re , :
Seb. A lady, sir, though it was we) Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Acue-cheek.
wembled ine. wi OT baad, ii an re
resembled me, was yet of 1 ’
ful: but, though I could not, wi such ir To. Anm , sir Andre w: not to bea hed
wonder, overfar believe that, vet thus { Iw her mig , Is to be up betimes ; and diluculg
idly publish her, she bore a mind that envy coul ¢, thou know’st,——
boldly publish her, she bore a mind tha ’ ;

(1) Messenger. (2) Proclamation of gentility. (6) Dexterous, ready fiend.
tn , i (- ‘oir dae ' \ {
(3) Count, (4) Own, possess, (5) Reveal.| (7) Fair deceiver. (8) Suit,

  
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
    
     
 
    
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
    
 
    
   
  

Senannicom,78 TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL, tet I,
ti ‘ * ‘ hs sf ha ry
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: but I Sir Ind. Most certain: let our catch be, Thou
up late, is to be up late. lmave. heme
Meer To, 4 false zea fuse J hate itasanun-| Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight ad halt
filled can: to be up after midnight, and to go to|/be constrain’d in’t to ¢ ‘all thee kn: ive, knight
bed then, is carly ; so that, to go to bed after ‘mid-| SirAnd. ’Tis not the first time f hi ive constraimd
night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our oe Ha a call me knave. Begin, fool; it begins,
consist of the four elements ? old thy peace.
Sir 4nd. ’Faith, so they say; but, I think, it| Clo. | shall never be gin, | if I hold my peace.
rather consists of eating and gricking. if Sir And. Good, ?faith! C er gin, :
Sir To. Thou art a scholar ; let us therefore eat; [They sing a catch.
ink.—Maria, I say !——a stoop of wine !
ae ae a . | Enter Maria.

i

Enter Clown.
| Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here!

Sir And. Here comes the fool, faith. If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvo-

Clo, How now, my hearts / Did you never see/lio, and bid him turn you out of doors, ne ver trust
the picture of we three ?! me,

Sur To. Welcome, ass. Now let’s havea catch.| Sir To. My la idy’s a Cataian,® we are politicians ;

Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent Malvolio’sa Pe S aaaeer and Three merry men

breast.* I had rather than forty shillings I had such|we be. Am not + c consanguineous ? am I not of her
aleg; and so sweet a bre vath to sing, as the fool|blood? ‘Tilly-valley,® lady! Zhere dwelt a man tn
has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling| Babylon, lady, lady ! [ Singing.
last night, when thou spokest of Pierog romitus, of} Clo. Beshrew me, the knight’s in admirable
the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus ;| fooling.
*Lwas very good, faith. 1 sent thee sixpence for! Sir.dnd. Ay, he does well enough, if he be dis-
thy leman :? hadst it ? posed, and so do I too; he does it with a better
Clo. I did impeticos thy grat tillity :* for Malvo- oTace, but I do it more natural.
hio’s nose is no whipstock : my lady has a white} Sir To. the twelfth day of December,—
hand, and the myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses, (Singing.
Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool-| Mar. For the love of God, peace.
ing, when all’s done. Now, a song.
Sir To. Come on; there is sixpence for you:
let’s have a song.
Sir And. There’s a testril of me too: if one) Mal. My masters, are you mad?

Enter Malvolio.

’ or what are

knight give a—— you! Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but
Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of|to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do
good life ? ye make an ale-house of my lady’s house, that ye
Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. squeak out your coziers’? catches without any mili-

gation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of

et place, persons, nor time, In you ?
SONG. Sir Zo. We did keep time, sir, in our catches,

Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming | Sneck up !?°

O, stay and hear 3 your true love’s coming, | Wal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My
That can sing both high and low lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours
Trip no further, Moate sweeling ; lyou as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to your
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting, disorders. If you can separate yourself and your
Every wise man’s son doth know. hmisdeme anours, you are wele ‘ome tothe house; if

Sir And, Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

Sir And. Excellent good, i’faith. not, an it would please you to take leave of her,
Sir To. Good, good. mes is very willing to bid you farewell.
To. Farewell, dear heart, since T must needs

Clo. What is love ? ’lis not hereafter ; WW
Present mirth hath present laughter ; .
What's to come, is still unsure :
In delay there lies no plenty ;
Then come kiss me sweet-and-twenty, ie Bat F enill of ana at
Youth’s a stuff will not endure. ( lo Gt. Toby id ai tee:
_% J9 rn

Sir 4nd. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true! Mal. This is much credit to you.
j
|
|
|

frome,
Mar. Nay, good sir Toby.
Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done.

Mal. Is’t even so?

knigh t. Sir To. Shall I bid him 20?
Sir To. A contagious breath. Clo. What an if you do?
Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i’faith. Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare nol ?
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in con-|

[ Singing.

Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not,

tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance: sin-| _ Str Zo. Out o’ time? sir, ye lie.—Art any more

deed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a ecatch,|than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art

that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shal]|Vittuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?

we do that? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne : cal ginger shall be
Sir And. An you love me, let’s do’t: Iam dog {hot 1’ the mouth Loo. cn

at a catch. Sir To. Thou’rt i the right. —Go, sir, rub your
Clo. By’r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch|¢hain'' with crums :—a stoop of wine, Maria !

well. Mal. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady’s fa-

vour at any thing more than contempt, you would

 

Loggerheads be. (2) Voice. (3) Mistress. |!
{ did impetticoat thy gratuity. |
Drink till the sky turns round. |
Romancer. (7) Name of an old song,

(8) Equivalent to filly fally, shilly shally.
iat Cobblers. (10) Hang yourself,
(11) Stewards anciently wore a chain,

ounSaend IV,

hot give méais for thia uncivil I]
know of it, by this hand. [faril,

Mer. Go shake your ¢

u's
Sir in i T we re as go ? 4 det ; in d I:
when a man’s a hungry, to challenge him to |

4 | 7
held; and then to break promise with hi
make a fool of him.
Sir Jo. Do't knight; Dll write t! KN

lenge : or Ii} deliver thy indign “Aon to }

,
word of mouth.

Var. Sweet sir Toby, be I L | LO-]
since tin youth of the cK unt s W LO-c ih}
lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur M
vonho, ict me alone with him: if I do not It his
mto a nay-word,? and make him a recrea-
tion, do not think I} ive WIL ¢ it li $
i my bed: | know I can doit.

oir To. Possess us,’ PpOSSess | tell us c-
ui i iy Oi him

Mer. Marry, sir, sometimes i kind of P
ritan,

Sir Ind. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him Lil

a dow,

Sir To. What, for being a Puri -
sile reason, dear knight

Sir “dnd. I have no exquisite reason fort. but |
have reason good chou

War. The de vil 1 Purit in that he is, ¢ vi
constantly but a time-pleas (lection
that cons state without book. and ut sit!
swarths:* the best persuaded Lu ) cram-
med, as he thinks, with @xcellency m nat iti ~

sund of faitl , that all that look on hi ’ ul

nd on that vice in him will my revenge find -
ble e suse to work.

Sir Jo. What wilt thou do ?

«War. I will drop in his way some obscure epis-
tles of love ; wherein, by the colou: Nl
shape of his le g, the manner of his it, the t
sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion.
tind himself most feelingly personated : I ean writs
very like my lady, your niece: on a i iT mate
ter we can hardiy make dis uon of i

Sir To. Excellent! I smell a devic:

Sir ind. I hav’t in my nose too.

Nir To. Hie shall rll a by tf if I tL?
wilt drop, that they come from my nic:
she ts in love with him.

Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of
colour,

Sir ind. And your horse now would make hi
an ass,

«Var. Ass, I doubt not.

Sir ind. O, twill be admirabl

Mar. Sport royal, | warrant you [| '

physic will work with hum. I \ Hii

and let the fool make at ird, where he shall
the letter; observe his constructi | f
night, Lo bed, ind dre im On cy |

Sir To. Good night, Penthesil
Sir And. Before me, she’s a l wer
Sir To. She’s a beagle, true-bred. and o; that
What o’ that ?
Sir “ind. | was adore lonce too
Sir To. Let’s to be d, knight.
send for more money.
Sir 4nd. If I cannot recover yo
foul way out.

adores me ;

1) Method of life. (2) By-word. (3) Inform us.
) Affected.
_

4
5 he row of grass left by a mower,

 

  

(6) Amazon. (7) Horse.

rht; if thou hast

o

o ’ } 0 Game ‘ " :
sir Zo. Send for money, kui

the end, call me Cut,"
su'ind, IfT do not, never trust me, take it how
Lil

suv Lo. Come, come; I'll ga burn some sack,
0 | ni come, knight; core,
loht, [ Eaeunt.

eV is iF ot room in the Duke's palace, En-
Vuke, Viola, Curio, and others.
| Give me some music: Now, good mor-
, iriénd —_
d Cesario, but that piece of song,
song we heard last night ;
» 1 cid relieve my passion much ;
i Luirs and recollected terms,
Kk and midd y=pace d times :—
. ;
( ie is nol here, so please your lordship,

Cur. Feste, th ster, my | rd: a fool, that the
’s lather took much delight in: he is

L/ , K him out, and play the tune the while.
| zit Curio.—Music.

If ever thou shalt lov:

,
siweel pane Cit remember! me;
lam, all true lovers are ;
ind skittish in all motions else,
in t CONSLANL Ima e ol the ere ature
v'd.—lHow dost thou like this tune 7
} . it gives a very echo to the seat
love} Le aaa Ail

j ° i Oil sf Sp ik masterly

ig though thou art, thine eye
that it love >;
Vio, A little, by your favour.

I) . What kind of won an is’t f

} (f your complexion,
What years,

hee then,

t stall the womar

I n herseil: so wears she to him,
; 6 level } if i i band’s hie irt ‘
y, however we do praise ourselves,
i ‘ ¢ Vi i iaay nd unl rit,
| wivennge, oner lost and worn,
iW i ii i{

Vio. I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love hi younger than thyself}

thy allection cannot hold the bent:
yomen are j es: whose lair lower,
ee display’d, doth fall that very hour.
} \ wits alas, that the y ure so;

: :
dic, cvyen when th \ to perlection crow !

r Curio, and Clown,
Duke. O ti llow, come, the Sune we had last
it is old and plain:

d the knitters in the sun
the free maids, that weave their thread with

it is silly sooth, '° <

Lunt it;
he innocence of love,

(} i} Witii Lf
ii

(8) Countenanee,
{ 10} Simple truth,
11) ‘Tone . of simplicity,

i) | Lire ricke rsiW é0

tHE Duke. Ay; pr’ythee, sing.

G.o. Are you ready, sir? |
| Music.

i SONG.

Clo. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
Fly away, fly wway, breath ;
lam slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck atl with yew,
), prepare tt ;
My part of death no one so lrue
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown ;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be
thrown ;
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover ne’er find my
To 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|
tire or another.
Duke. Give me now !eave to leave thee.
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee ;
and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taf-

grave,

Die tai
feta, for thy mind is a very opal'—I would have
men of such constancy put to sea, that their
ness might be every thing, and
where; for that’s it, that alway
voyage of nothing.—Farewell. [ Exit Clown.

Duke. Let all the rest o

Ie

busi-
their intent ever

} } |

YS manes

’
ve place.—

[Exeunt Curio and attendant
Once mor C irlo
Get thee to yon’ same sovereign crue!
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,

Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ;

The parts that fortune hath bestow’d upon her,
Te:l her, I hold as giddily as fortune ;

TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

  
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

Act I.

And what’s her history ?

Vio. A blank, my lord: She never told her love,
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. Tam 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,*

{Exeunt.

  

Duke.

rLU

INE V.—Olivia’s Garden. Enter Sir Toby
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Fabian,

Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.

Fab. Nay, Vill come; if I lose a seruple of this
sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Sir To. Would’st thou not be glad to have the
niggardly raseally sheep-biter come by some nota-
ble shame ?
Fab. I would exult, man: you know, he brought
me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-bait-

ing here.

Sir To. To anger him, we’ll have the bear again ;
ind we will fool him black and blue:—Shall we
‘ 4 lrew ?

nowt, SIF ANG

in we do not, it is pity of our lives.

Enter Maria.

Sir And.

Sir To. Here comes the little villain:—How
now, my nettle of India.

lar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: Mal-

ys comin down this walk; he has been yon-

i the sun, practising behaviour to his own

chara hee half haze - 1 “ 2 ° ‘
iadow, this half hour: observe him, for the love

But ’tis that miracle, and queen of gems, of mockery ; for, I know, this letter will make a
That nature pranks? her in, attracts my soul. contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of
Ps ‘oe sy ‘ein : ' ry} | ; ; :
Via. But, if she cannot love you, si jesting , Litt Len hide themselve s. Lie thou
Duke. I cannot be so answer’d. there; [throws down a letle r| for here comes the
Vio. 7500 1 but 1 must./trout that must be caucht with tickling.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there | Exit Maria
é : L de ** - ane “ue
Hath for your love as vreat a pang of h tow Malwni
: so ae Be : cs ) ; I JAE 10
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love hy
You tell her so; Must she not then be answer’d?| Jal. ’Tis but fortm ll is fortune. Maria
Duke. rhere’s is no woman’s sides, nee told m id affect me: and I have heard
Can bide the beating of so strong a ] as: Ion) i seit CO hus } LT, th il, should she fancy,* it
As love doth give my heart : no woman’s heart sho ud be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention. me with a more exalted respect, than any one else
Alas, their love may be call’d appetite,— hat follows her. What should I think on’t?
y +} q » Hvar 11 ha 1 ; ryy t ; " ? . ;
No movuon of the liver, but tne p — pir Jo. Hi ( in Over-weenmng rogue !
¢ . ceria an rment al We ° , , ‘ :
Vhat suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt ; Fad. VU, pei ! Contemplation makes a rare
Sut mine is all as hungry as the sea turkey- k of him: how he jets’ under hi
| ' : k k of him; how he jets* under his ad-
And can digest as much: make no compare vanced plumes !
Between that love a woman can bear me, Sir 4nd. ’Slicht,I could so beat the rogue :—~
And that I owe Olivia. Sir To. Peace, I say
78 i 7 ae
Vio. AY, but ] know.— JW l l'o be count Malvelio!—

Duke. What dost thou know ?
Vio. Too well what love women to men may
owe:
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov’d a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I woman,
I should your lordship,
ts} A precious stone of all colours /°) Decks.

Denial,

Sir Jo. Ah, rogue!

Sir Ind. Pistol him, pistol him.

| Sir To. Peace, peace !

| . ryvi . . ° ‘ } ~ , he

| ite Phere Is example for’t; the lady of the
|S rac LV ee tne yeoman ol the wardrobe,

Sir 4nd. Fie on him, Jezebel !

“ab, O ‘ace! yy ’s deeply j

_ Fab. O, peace! now he’s deeply in ; look how
lumagination blows® him!

| (4) Love, (5) Struts, (6) Pufls him upScene F. TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILI« si

Mal. Having been three months marri

x bee rried to her,! Mal. M, O, A. I. dot h sway my lifee—Nay, but
sitting in mi) ae Urst, tet me see,—let me see »,—let me see,
Su ee’ , for a st Lone-dow, to hit him im the } » Wi hata dish of poison has she dressed him !
Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my bray i-| Sir "To. And with what wing the stannyel*
ed ve Rad gown; having come from a day-! l,*;checks® at it!
where I left Olivi sl eping. vial. J may command where I adore. Why she
Str Lo. Fire and brimstone ! iy command me; I serve her, she is my lady.
Fab. UY, pe ce, DCACI ’ ' | i

; , ‘y hy, Uus is evident to any formal capacity, There
Mal. And then to have | s{ : in this ;—And the end,—What

and after a demure travel « i reg . lin ld that al ibetical position portend 7; uk
I know my place, as | wo it y SHOU it resemble something in me,—
to ask for my kinsman’] ve | ~ a. 1.
Sir Jo. Bolts and shack Str . O, ay! make up that :—he is now ata
Fub. O, peace, peace, peace ! v, r.
Mal. Seven of my p , with rbedient >» £ab. Sowter® will cry upon’t, for all this, though
make out for him: I frown } ; a fox
chance, Wiha up mv wal ir pl A‘

' yv | fal. J,—Malvolio ;—M,—why, that begins my
}e wel Toby ry nes: t is I :
a fo. Sh lI Unis fellow live? Fab. Did 1 I say, he would work it out? the
ab, Thoug? i L Li i \ ij i uilSs,
cars, yet peace. , , , ‘lal. .,—But then there is no consonancy in
Mal. I extend my hand to | > 4g t suffer r probation: 4 should

my familiar smile with an: _ but O g.
‘Sir Zo. And does not Ts y lake you Ul Q’ j A () llend. I hope

the lips then ? . Ay, or Vil cudgel him, and make him
Mal. Saying, ( Ld ' —).

cast me on your niece, Le M45 | al. And then J comes behind :

speech :-— . AY, you had an eye behind you, you
Sir To. What. what cdetraction at your heels, than for-
Mal. You t

Sir To. Out, scab! . Jt, O, 4, I:—Fi
Fab. Nay, patience, or w
our plot, ne of these letters are in my
Mal. Besides, you le the tre jy 1 e lollows prose.—If this fall into
fime wilh a J its AY at ; , ‘ / , slars I am above thee ;
Sir ind, That’s me, | warrant you. | of greatness; Some. are dorn
ms l. One sir Jndri : E i [ , and some have great.
Sir find, I knew, ’twas I-: for 1 ya i] them. Lhy fates open their
fool. t l and spirtl ¢ nbrace them.
Wal. What employm ni hay \ ' to what th art like t be,

tg ¢

is simulation is not as
» crush this a little, it would

. . [ J ear fresh. Be op-
Fab. Now is the woo with serva nts : let thy

Sir To. () ita ' i | : f : fei . ;

: le; put thyself into
intimate reading aloud to him ! jz: She thus advises thee,

Mal. By my isfe, that is my a nber who commended
be her very C’s, her U's. t wished lo see thee ever

makes she he Gat F's. *] y / umber. Go to ; thou art
question, her hand. i to be so; Uf not, let me see
Ser ind. Her ( Ss. . i i ¥\ a : for J abe and not
that ? ‘sfingers, Farewell. She
Mal. [reads] To th this. “tT

my good wishes : her very | b ; The fortunate-unhappy ;
wax.—Solfl'!—and the im } n* discovers not more; this
with which she uses to lL: *tis my | oe 0 |, L will read politic : authors,
whom should this be 7? [ will i v, | will wash off gross ac-
Fad. This wins him, live: ball, ce, I will nt-de-vice,® the very man.
Mal. [reads] Jove | , 4 now fool myself, to let imagination —
But 10: every ri } excites to this, that my lady

hij : ; me. S l mend my yellow stockings of

Ni ' ’. ah ermy |  hpinie crea gartered ; and

Vo man must know.—VW follow » thi ifests herself to my love, and, with
altered '—No man must kn t—il thi ould fj n, drives . to the: se habits of
thee, Malvolio? enn k my stars, | am happy. I will
r To. Marry, hang thee, br nee, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-
Mal. J may command, where ! \ with { swiftness of putting on.
Sut silence, like al fe, Jove, and my stars be praised !—Here is yet a post-

With bloodless stroke my heart doth ; . Thor t not ch ose but know who. am.
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. ente t my love, let it appear in thy
Fab. A fustian riddle! thy es become thee well; therefore in
Ve 4 ¥ : euatlid : [ss { : + oo so 4
Sir To. Excellent wenec l, Sa) a ny TESence Sele TiC, dear my sweet, I pr ythee,

1) State-chair (2) Couch. 6) Name of a hound, (7) Skin of a snake,
) State-chair, } :
(3) Badger, (4) Hawk, (5) Flies atils; (8) Open country, °) Utmost exactness,2 TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. Act IIT.

Jove, 1 thank thee.—I will smile; I will 1 OL ~ *s — thou art a merry fellow, and
: i xt res r notning.
thing that thou wilt have me. veil, |carest for n iS - ee hg
Fab, I will not give my part of this sport for a). Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for iy erin pet
pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. _|in my conscience, sir, I do Car . > roe “

Sir To. I could marry this wench for this de-|be to care for nothing, sir, 1 woule } would make
vice you invisible. Olivia’ fol?

Sir And. So could I too. Vio. Art not thou the ty a aah e

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but} Clo. No, indeed, sir; the Jad via nas no
such another jest. folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ;

land fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to

\herrings, the husband’s the bigger; I am, indeed,
: inot her fool, but her corrupter of words,

Sir And. Nor I neither. Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino’s, _

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like

Sir To, Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck? ithe sun ; it shines every where. I would be sorry,

Sir And. Or o? mine either ? _ _|sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master,

Sir Jo. Shall I pay, my Sfrecdom at tray-trip,’|as with my mistress: I think, | saw your wisdom
and become thy bond-slave ¢ \there.

Sir And. Vfaith, or I either. oe Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, | with thee " Hold, there’s expenses for thee.

: *5 7 } = , . - . + .

{hat, when the image of it leaves him, he must run| Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair,
mad. . _jsend thee a beard!

ees eee rae irq it Serbs ‘| Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost

Sir To. Like aqua-vite with a midwile.

Enter Maria.

c isick for one; though I would not have it grow on
Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport,/my chin. Is thy lady within ?

mark his frst approach before my lady: he will! “Clo, Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ?

come to her in yellow stockings, and ’tisacolour| Vio, Yes, being kept together, and put to use.

she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she de-| (lo, I would play Jord Pandarus* of Phrygia, sir,

tests; and he will smile upon her, which will now|to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. 4g

be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted) Vio, { understand you, sir; ’tis well begg’d.

to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn! (lo, The matter, I hope, 1s not great, sir, beg-

him into a notable contempt: if you will see it,|oing but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My

foilow me. lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence
Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel-| you come: who you are, and what you would, are

lent devil of wit! lout of my welkin: I might say, element; but the

Sir And. Pll make one too. [Exeunt. |word is over-worn. { Exit.
Vio. This fellow’s wise enough to play the fool ,
eae And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:
ACT IIL. | He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
: |The quality of persons, and the time ;

Sloe se ph Sen: 1... e:.1. .,.7/And, like the haggard,® check at every feather
SCENE I.—Olivia’s Garden. Entei Viola, and nia comes before his eye. This is a practice,
Clown with a tabor. |As full of labour asa wise man’s art:

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy music: Dost Por folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

thou live by thy tabor? But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Clo. No, sir, I live by the church.
Vio. Art thou a churchman ?

Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguc-
! ;

. t* . |

Clo. No such matter, sir; I do live by the}

|

cheek.

church: for I do live at my house, and my house} Sir To. Save you, centleman.
doth stand by the church. Vio. And you, sir.
Vio. So thou may’st say, the king lies? bya beg-| Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
var, if a beggar dwell near him: or, the church! Vio. Et vous aussi: votre servileur.
stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the; Sir nd. 1 hope, sir, you are; and I am yours,
church. : | Sir Jo. Will you encounter the house? my
Clo. You have said, sir.—To sec this age!—A niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be
sentence is but a cheveril*? glove to a good wit;|to her. : :

How quickly the wrong side may be turne d oul-| Vio. Tam bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she
ward! lis the list® of my voyage.
Vio. Nay, that’s certain > they, that dally nicely} Sir Jo. Taste your Jegs, sir, put them to motion.
with words, may quickly make them wanton. | Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than
Clo. 1 would therefore, my sister had had no.J understand what you mean by bidding me taste
name, sir. my legs.

Vio. Why, man ? | Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.

Clo. Why, sir, her name’s a word; and to dally; Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance:
with that word, might make my sister wanton:|But we are prevented. |
But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds|
discraced them. Enter Olivia and Maria.

io. Thy reason, man? :
. : . iMost excellent accomplished lady . heavens rai

ve ate sir, I can yield you none without) dours a vont mplished lady, the heavens rain

words ; and words are grown so false, I am loath)“ o.” , bm : ;

, - ; a) Sir And. That youth’s a rare courtier! Rain

to prove reason with them.
Pp them lodours ! well.

ta} Bae diversion three and tip. | (4) See the play of Troilus end Cressida.
ells, , (3) Kid, | (5) Ahawknot well trained, (6) Bound, limit,OW!
>

Iii

Oli. Let the ward ! ' hye wit na

ton

uy iv

me TI. PWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT you WILL. 83

   
  
   
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
   
 
  

4
é My matter hath n. an he hi ; : *
tO. 4 ly oC} re no voice . ] ty, Out to your \ murd rous euilt shows not itself more soon

maint rypil Otechen | — ‘T*} 4} " . . i ‘
int’ and vouchsated ¢ Chan lovethat would seem hid: love’s night is noon,

1 Inosi

wr And, cours, pregnant, and vouclis esario, by the roses of the spring,

y maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
love thee so, that, mauere* all thy pride,

Yor wif 4

It, nor reason, Can my passion hide.

ret 'em ill thy

1y hearin;

|Eaveu it Sir Toby oe

 

ye \ } \ i WA : ' . ; a @ ‘ 7 °
j Lharew, : high 1) >not extort thy rcasons [rom this clause,

aoe ai ri oe
nano a eeu bh ; :; it 1 woo, thou therefore hast no cause ;

é \ tert a “% 4 } = = t> ‘ : . 2
( li \V at io am, and most humble service. | B ‘y rather, reason thus with reason fetter:

Ail. nat iw wour } I -. :
; Ms IS YOUur nam Lov ight is good, but riven unsought, is better,
Ww. €S4riois your: ; : AY if j : By imnocencs | swear, and by my youth,

rservan
Oh. My sery int, sir! oT’w

ney : Wwe tet i \ : ; f

Nano lonchy Mean cet oe | arr cla aha. © bosom, and one truth,
iv Liing vu uid COMpill nL 3 1 Mm WOM MAS + nor never none

y uu are servant to the count Orsino, youth. shall mist beat if, save I alone.

fi. And he is yours, and his m ist needs | \nd so adieu, good madam ; never more

vou Willilmy cr’s tears to you deplore.

} Our Sé¢ ry iit St ry int is ¥ ur scry . rae ‘ { yete me arain: ior thou, pe rhaps, may’st

e Fo him, | think not on him: { ist irhts, move 5
We ud they ww: Manks, rather than filPd with me !|That heart, uch now abhors, to like. his love.

rt Vie in, lcomet wiiet ¥ nic Lao t { Exeunt.
On his behalf :~—

Oli QO, by leave, | y you;| SCENE I) Room in Olivia’s house. Enter
I bade you never c Ln sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and
But, wi ule y 1 tity t " mt ce i
1 had rather h You to solicit that,
Than music from i sir sind. No, faith, Pll not stay a jot longer.

i
j
,
5
j
ij

io. : Dear lady oir Lo, Thy reason, dear venom, give thy rea-
r the last enchantment vou dia } fab. You must need yield your reason, sir An-

elf. my servant. ar P fane 3 wens sir ind, Marry, I saw your niece do more fa-

if hard construction must [ sit ) lo the count’s se rvinic-man, than ever she
ree that aie vestowed uponme:;: I saw’t ? the orchard.
2s ’ ’ ee | j } » tha ile r
i Vi Wi ié Ol ¥ Wh rril t vot on fo, Did she see thee the wlule, old boy
trial k Li :

é you not mine } ‘4 al str wind. As plain as I sce you now.
batted it wif il i r i ; fab, This w eat arwument of love m her

ree oir wand, ’Slielit! will you make an ass o’ me
fol) 1s ; er neat ’ " rab, & will prove it Jes iliumate, sir, upon the

alte ¢ fo. And they have been grand jury-men,
;

i} i 7 1 j ”
\ 7 i tii Mv [Tnvour to the youth int YOu!
5
’ ; ;
a « y LO eXAasperate you, to awake vour dor-
¢ : t we 4 : if ' ’ }
Vi ; ; ; ; lo pul | in your heart, and brim-
i \ ti iid then nave i costed
. ry ‘ ; » fea
: iW c\revuent yest, tre-new trom

11) ~-a vial ay banged the youth into

sr bn i tus was looked for at yeur hand, and
oy ; boulhked ine doudtie gill ot this Oppor-
i | eh ol, and vou are now sailed

~ ’

\ } j ‘ j : a i bitsl Ob my lady ODIO ; wher you will
fg F F bik nicocleona Dut hman’s be ard, unl aS
cee : Vi mit by some laudable attempt, either

i iH

' wl And’t be any way, if must be with
a onan a sas a 9 2 valour; lor policy I hat lL had as lief be a
i nist, Hilician.
ovens * fo. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon
eal iln ad basis of valour. Challenge me the count’s
“a eee eee fo iphi with him; hurt him in eleven places
—_ a, per ni hall take note of it: and assure thyself,
Wig aie an T think | . — ere 18 No love-broker m the world ean more pre-
a ee mt ~ a ae ae not what Lam.| ll ia man’s commendation with woman, than re-

| ymiid. you wer

Would oie Amini fav. ‘There is no way but this, sir Andrew.
j thd Lil? DCLLOT, rd it, ti 1} il : : :
7 ‘i . ' , ir ind. Will cither of you bear me a chal:
nil micnt jor now | am } if toot : , )
i} wi ' leery ol . r poo ’ t] i a ‘ 7 . ®
: , 4 ie . fd... 0, WTil if m a martial hand: be
cor mpt A tt i til : :

ind brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be

in queen Elizabeth's reign,Bd TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR,

eloquent, and ful
the license of ink:

1 of invention: taunt him with
if thou thow’st him some thrice,
Vi it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie
muy in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big
4 enough for the bed of Ware? in England, set ’em
down; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in
thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no
matter: About it.
Sir And. Where shall I find you?
Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubictilo ;? Go.
{Eait Sir Andrew.
Fab. This isa dear manikin to you, sir Toby.
Sir To. I have been dear to shim, lad; some}.
two thousand strong or so.
Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him :
youll not deliver it,
" Sir To. Never trust me then ;
stir on the youth to an answer.
wainropes? cannot hale them together.
a drew, if be were opened, and you find so much
; | blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, Pl
ih eat the rest of the anatomy.
it Fab. And his opposite, the yout
visage no great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine
comes.
Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh
yourselves into stitches, follow me: yon’ gull Mal-
volio is turned heathen, a very renegado ; for there
is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing
| rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages
of grossness. He’s in yellow stockings.
Le Sir To. And cross-gartered ?
Mar. Most villanously ; like a pedant that keeps
a school i’ the church.—I have dogged him, like his
murderer: he does obey every point of the letter
that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his
face into more lines, than are in the new map, with
the augmentation of the Indies ; you have not seen
such a thing as ’tis; I can hardly forbear hurling.
things at him. I know, my lady will strike him ; i
she do, he’ll smile, and take’t for a great favour.
Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is,
[Exeunt. |

 

Sa TY 9

Tee

gs

Or An-

|

SCENE Ill.—A street. Enter Antonio and Se-|
bastian.

Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you ;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.

Ant. I could not stay behind you ; my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth ; —
And not all love to see you (though so much, |
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, )
But jealousy what might befall your travel,

Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable: my willing love
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
Seb. My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make, but, thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks: Often good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay :
But, were my worth,* as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What’s to do?
rite Shall we go see the reliques of this town ?
4nt, To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your

lodging.
{3} In Hertfordshire, which held forty persons,
2) Chamber, (3) Wagon ropes,

I pray you,
With the memorials, a
That do renown this city.

I did some service ;
That, were I ta’en here, it would searce be an-

h, bears in his| In the south su
Is best to lodge:
Whi

ce

\] speak

WHAT YOU WILL. Act LI,

Seb. Lam not weary, and’tis long to night ;
let us satisfy our eyes
and the things of fame,

Ant. ’Would, you’d pardon me ;

I do not without danger walk these streets :
Once, in a sea-fight, ’gainst the count his galleys,

of such note, indeed,

swer’d.
Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people.
Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature ;
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel,

|Micht well have given us bloody argument.
but! It might have since been answer’d in repaying
|' What we took from them ;
and by all means/ Most of our city did: only myself stood out:
J think, oxen and|For whic

which, for traffic sake,

| i

if I be lapsed? in this place,
shall pas dear.
Seb.

Ant.

|

Do not then walk too open.
doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here’s my

Ure ;

It

burbs, at the Elephant,

I will bespeak our diet,

les you beguile the time, and feed your know-
ledge,

With viewing of the town ; there shall you have me.

}

Seb. Why I your purse !

int. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase ; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.

Seb. Vll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
n hour,
int.
Seb.

T
i

\
To the Elephant.—
I do remember.
| Exeunt.

;

“E IV.—Olivia’s Garden. Enter Olivia

and Maria.

SCEN

Oli. I have sent after him: He says, he’ll come ;
How shall I feast him? what bestow on him?
For youth is bought more oft, than begg’d, or bor-
row’d.
too loud.
Where is Malvolio.?—he is sad, and civil,®
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes ;
Where is Malvolio ? ;

Mar. He’s coming, madam ;
But in strange manner. He is sure possess’d.
Olt. Why, what’s the matter ? does he rave

Mar. No, madam,

?

He does nothing but smile: your ladyship
Were best have guard about you, if he come ;
For, sure, the man Is tainted in his wits.

Oli. Go call him hither. —P’m as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.—

Enter Malvolio,

How now, Malvolio?
Mal. Sweet lady, ho, ho !
Oli, Smil’st thou?

I sent for thee upon a sad’ occasion.

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad: this does make
some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering :
but what of that, if it pleases the eve of one, it is
{with me as the very true sonnet is: Please one and
|please all,
| Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the mat-
ter with thee ?

Mal, Not black in my min

[ Smiles fantastically,

;

‘y

though yellow in

(4) Wealth, (5) Caught,
(6) Grave and demure, (7) Grave,Scene IV,

 

my legs: It did come to his hands, and commands
shall be executed. I think.
Roman hand.
Oli. Wilt thou go to be d, Malvolio?
Mal. To he d { ay, sweet-heart

we do know the sweet

MCT Ss and COM
to thee,
Oli. God ce rmfort thee ! VW hy dost thou smile so
and kiss thy hand so oft?
Mar. How do you, Malvolio ?
Mal. At your request ' Yes; nichtingales an-

swer daws,
Mar. Why appear you with this:
ness before my lady?

Mal. Be not afraid of rrealn — Twas wel!
writ.

Oli, What meanest thou | , Mal

Mal. Some are ’ f ames

Olt. Ha?

Mal. Some achiev

Mal. .@nd some hat i t t
Oli He ven restore thee!
Mal. Remember 1 é l thy yell

Ok, Thy vellow stockings ?
Mal. and wished ts thee ¢ te
Oli, Cross-zartered ?

Mal.
be so -—
Ol. Am I made
Mal. Ifnol, let me see t/ t
Oli. VW ny, this is very mi

{,o f s} co «- , ee £5 , \
’ so: tf { . :

Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the «
Orsino’s is ret is ae i
back; he attends your |
Oli. PU come t Bzit Servant.) ¢
Maria, let this \\
cousin Toby? Let some of m\
cial care of him: I w id 1 ‘
for the half of my ad ; [ f On \
Mal. Oh, ho! you
worse man than sir T i ' ‘J -
curs directly wi i
pose, that In
incites me tot 1 {
slouch. Saye an
t ith rT if —¢! ti [
of stale, = i ; ; ;
at d, consequel } ! h
a sad face, a reverend carri
the habit of some sir of le, and s {
limed her ;:? but it is Jove’s d 2 1 Jove mak:
me thankful! Ay ' Ve 42k
this fellow be looked 1 Fellow '* 1 Malvolic
nor after my degrce, buf fellow. Why, every thin
adhere * toc ther * inat no d m of a scruple . ae

‘ruple of a seru le. no obst le. no incredulous:
unsafe circumstance,

; O- . . 1)
that can be, can come between me and the full

ai

prospect of my love. 1 I. is t
doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Bek ! Fabia

Sir To. Which way is he hi
If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and Le-
rion himself posse ssed him, yet rl 8 YD ak to him.

Fah. He re he 18, here he
how is’t with you,

nthe name of sancti
= Ba i i} i

is :— Low is’t with vou,
,

sir ! man {

Hot weather madness.
Caught her as a bird with birdlime.

1)
2)
3) Companion,

   

TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT you WILL,

   

  
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
     
   
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
    
 
 
  
   
 

85

‘Mal. Go off; I discard you; let me enjoy my
private ; go off.

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within
him! did I not tell you )—Sir Toby, my lady
prays you to have a care of him.

Mal. Ah, ha ! does }

Pe 7

she SO :

Go to, go to ; peace, peace, we must deal

sently with him ; let me alone. How do you, Mal- !
Yolilo? how is’t with you? What, man! defy the |
vil: consider, he’s an enemy to mankind.

Do you know what you say ? a
La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how
heart! Pray God, he be not be-

irry his water to the wise woman.
Varrs

Va and it shall be done to-morrow
ing, if I live. My lady would not lose him i

rmore than Ill sav. — :

Val. How 1 Ww, mistress ?

Mar. O lord! i

Sir To. Pr’ythee, hold thy peace ; this is not the
way: Do you not see, you move him? let me alone

1
h him.

Fab, No way but gentleness; gently, gently:

the | 1 is roug! ind will not be roughly used.

Sir 7 Why, how now, my baweock?* how
I Cth k ’
/ Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man!

not { vity to play at cherry-pit® with Sa-
}] m, foul collier !

JW (x him to y his pl ers ; rood sir Toby,

5 \ Tr T ’

;

No, | warrant you, he will not hear of

you ane idle,
‘your clement; you
hereafter. [ Exit.

ru. 3 le!
i If ve played upon a stage now, I
it as an improbable fiction.
HY] nius hath taken the infection

im now; lest the device i
i \\ ll make him mad, indeed.
if ow ill be t quieter. j
lo. C we'll have him in a dark room, }
\iy niece 1s alrea ty in the belief that
i ve may carry it thus for our pleasure,
nee, till our. very pastime, tired out of
t | i Lo have mercy on him : at which
ine, we will bring the device to the bar, and :
thee fora finder of madmen. But see, butsee.

Andrew Acue-cheek.

Fah. More matter fora May morning.

Sir.ind. Here’s the challenge, read it; I war-

rant, there’s vinegar and pepper in’t,
Fab. Is’t so saucy? ;
Sir ind, Ay, isit, lwarrant him: do but read. '
Sir To. Give me. [reads.] Youth, whatsoever

thou art, thou art buta s urvy fellow.

h, Good, and valiant.
To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind,
phy I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason
7
Fab. A good note:

f the law.

that keeps you from the blow
(4) Jolly cock, beau and coq.

(5) A play among boys.
(6) Colliers were accounted great cheats, .4) 86

Sir To, Thow coinest t a, a
my sight she uses thee kindly : bul thou liest im thy

throat, that is not the matter I chailenge thee for.

Fab. Very brief, and exceeding rood sensc-less.

Sir To. I will way-lay thee gong home ; where
if it be thy chance to. kill me,

Fab. Good.

Sir To. Thou killest me like

Fab. Still you keep o’ the windy side of the law:
Good.

Sir To. Fare thee well ; Jnd God have mercy}
upon one of our souls ! He may have mercy upon||
mine; but my hope is better, and so look to tiy-|
self. Thy friend, as thow usest him, and thy},
sworn eneny. Indrew Ague-cheek. |.

Sir To. If this letter moves him not, his legs)’
cannot: Pll giv’t him. |,

Mar. You may have very fit occasion fort ; he}.
1s now in some commerce with my lady, and will
by and by depart.

Sir To. Go, sir Andrew ;
the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiff: so|
soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and thou
drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft,
that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent
sharply twanged off, gives manhood more appro~
bation than ever proof itself would have earned
him. Away.

Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. | Ex.

Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter : for th«
behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out
to be of good capacity and breeding ; his employ-
ment between his lord and my niece confirms
less; therefore this letter, being so excellently ig-
norant, will breed no terror in the youth, he will
find it comes from aclodpole. But, sir, 1 will de-
liver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon
Ague-cheek a notable report of valour ; and drive
the gentleman (as, I know, his youth will aptly re-
ceive it,) into a most hideous opinion of his rage,
skill, fury, and impetuosity.. This will so fright
them both, that they will kill one another by the
look, like cockatrices.

Enter Olivia and Viola.

Fab. Here he comes with your niece: give
them way, till he take leave, and presently after him.

Sir Jo. I will meditate the while upon some
horrid message for a challenge.

 

{
{
(
r
1 (

a rogue and avillain. |

scout me for him at

1 dd

no

Exeunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
a> ; j

Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary' out:
There’s something in me, that reproyes my fault ;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.

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 tongue to vex you:
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me, that Pll deny ;
That honour, sav’d, may upon asking give ?
Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my
master.
Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you? gle
Vio.
Oli. Well, come again to-morrow: F
well;

I will acquit you.
are thee

1
4

Uncautiously.

y 2) Rapier. (3) Ready.
\§ (5) ( I ( dy

sort. Decision. (6) Adversary.

  

TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

3t to the lady Olivia, and wm A fiend, like thee, mig

 

Act I.

  

ht bear my soul to hell. [Ex.
Re-cnter Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian.

Sir To. Gentleman, God saye thee.

Vie. And you, sir.
Sir To. That defence thou hast, belake thee
o’t: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast

but thy intereepter, full of
attends thee at the
he yare* in thy
ick, skilful, and

lone him, J know not;
lespight, bloody a3 the hunter,
chard end: dismount thy tu k,?
reparation, for thy assailant 1s qu
leadly.

Vio. You mistake, sir ;

my rel

I am sure, no man hath
if mbrance is very tree

;
i

iny quarrel to mi

muctearfromany imaze of offence done to any man,

Sir T'o. You If find at Ofsx rwise, { assure you:
hercfore. uf you hold your lite at any price, hetak
vou to your guard; for your opposite hath in him
what youth: strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish
man withal.

Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he?

Sir To. Ue is knight, dubbed with unhacked
rapier, and on earpet consid ration; but he is a
devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he

nd his incensement at this mo-

divorced three; a

ment is so unplacable, that satisfaction can be none
but by pangs of death and scpulchre: hob, nob, is
his word; give’t, or take’t

Vio. 1 will return ain into the house, and de-

sire some conduct of the lads lam no fierhter. I

have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels
purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike,
this is a man of that quirk.*

Sir Jo. Sir, no;
out of a very competent injury ;

his indignation Gerives itself
theretore, get you

on. and eive him his desire. Back you shall not to
the house, unless you undertake that with me,
which with as much safety you might answer him;
‘therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked ;

for meddle yqu must, that’s certain, or forswear to
wear iron about you.

| Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseect
you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the
knight what my offence to him is; it is something
lof my negligence, nothing of my purpose,
| Sir To. lL willdoso. Signior Fabian, stay you
iby this gentleman till my return, [Lait Sir Toby.

| Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter ?

| Fab. 1 know, the knight is incensed against you,
° . 1 : . 7‘

leven to a mortal arbitrament ;* but nothing of the

|circums

} Vio.

more.

h vou, what mann

tance
Lane ¢
r

i

r ol ?

beseec “man is he

art of Illyria: will you

| 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. Lie 1s, nck { d, sir, the most
| skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite’ that you could
| possibly have found in any ]

lwalk towards him? I will make your peace with
ihim, if I can.

Vio. I shall be much bound to you fort: Tam
lone, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir
knight: Icare not who knows so much of my
mettle [ Exeund,

Re-enter Sir Toby, with Str Andrew.

Si

r To. Why, man, he’
seen such a viraco.

|
|
j
a very devil; I have
not. I had a pass with him,
Papier, scabbard, and all, and he me the
»}stuck-in,? with such a mortal motion, that it Is in-
evitable ; and on the answer, he pays you® as surely

cives

.

) Stoccata, an Italian term in fencing.
) Does for you.

(7
(8Scene IV. TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 87

as your fect hit the eroun ud they ste pon: t

y 'What will ge do? Now my necessity

he hy is been fence r to the Sop yhy. | ME: ikes me to ask you for my purse : it grieves mé
Sir “ind - Pox on’t, Pll not meddle with him. |Muc neers for what I cannot do for you,
Str To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified:|Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz’d;

Fat Nan can SC ance hold him yonder. But ihe pba 0 9
Sir Jind, urue on’t; an | thoucht he had been 2 Off. Come, sir, away.
valiant, and so cunning in fene , ld have seen him : Int. 1 must ahtne at of you some of that money.
damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let } to ; BY money, sir? :
tne matter slip, and Pil give him my horse, grey} For take kindness you have show’d me here,
Capil Be i23 at part, being prompted by your pre sent trouble,
sr 10. Vil make the motion: stand he re, make | Out of n Ly lean and low ability
a wrood show on’t - thes s ll end without th per- , i] lend you some thing : my hi ving is not much ;

dition of souls - marry. [| } iOrse A Wer ike di
> marry, Pu: orse as well make division of my y present with you:

as I ride you, |. Dside. Hold. there is half my coffer.

h Ve Si “nt Will you deny me now }
: ct? | Liil ,1Old I<? ' le
t possible, that my deserts to you
l iaAve } Ss iuorsr lla i rf 4 io | kk tit) tive oiiyrre | U in ls LC pe r suasion : Do not tempt my misery,
| have persuaded him, | _ sade Le hat it make me so unsound a man,
Fab. He is as horribly conceited! of him: and|“! towne ud you with those kindnesses
pants, id jool vlc, as if a bear were at his Phat T have done for you.
heels. Vio. I know of none ;
Sir To. There's no remedy, sir; he will fight} Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
With Vou tor his oath sake: mar he hal bette nate Wigs ititud © more in &@ man,
bethoucht him of his a el. and he finds that now) / #n lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
i e . : dy taint of vice Lnce etr - mre tio
scarce to be worth talking of - therefore dra. foe |) ball rik ¢ ice, whose strong corruption
ee a a, nat r frail blood
the sunportance iy vow : he : ie hy will not iLs OU all DiIOOod.
hort you. : Int. O heavens themselves!
Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thi ~ Off. Come, [ pray you, go.
would make me tell ¢ n Ww mut I lack of a “int. Let me Sp ak a little. This youth that
Ty Tie } i you see he re,
kab. Give ground, j lls him furious, I st iteh'd on half out of the jaws of death ;
Ni lo. Come, si Andrew. there’s no remedy: Reliev’d him vith such sanctity of love,——
the gentleman will. { ' ur’s sake. have one 22d to his image, which, methought, did promise
how? with von * ‘he cannot by 4 lot avoid it: lost venerable worth, did I devotion,
but he has promised me. ns he is nileman and| / Off. What's that to us? The time goes by;
B ol i] rf Wi OL Huy you, { ry) me. F a away.
Sir 4nd. Pray God. he keen his oath! {Draw “Int. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god !—
, hou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.—

in nature there’s no blemish, but the mind;

Vin 3 : ad sais None can be call’d deform’d, but the unkind :
io. I do assure you, *lis against my will. Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous-evil

[ Draws. | Are « mpty trunks, o’erflourish’d? by the devil.

nf nt wn yor ewword «if thie wort ("eT Fret . .
“int. Pu a ord ;—If this young gen | Off. The man grows mad; away with him.
Licman Come. come. sir
. sein ollence ; Ley hi mrt ¢ .™m ° m5 ’ ws ~ ~ ° °
on ae Ps 1 "] | Lally t PeLTLAN nT p int, Z end me on. [ Exe. Office rs, with Antonio.
i “i fF i him c you ; } were ; : : . ~ .
} you offend him, | for him del © LTO "S+|  Fto, Methinks, his words do from such passion
Sir To. You, sis why, Whal are you fly
Int One. sir. that for ia love dare vet dol-rm ; yy :
— ’ _o se coe _— , , hat he believes himself; so do not I,
T) ae, bia ts i Prove true, imagination, O prove true,
f } 4 rh ri} f : iT r | ; yo? ' : *} . +) ’ a « . om
J at. you oN. a GR sox 1 ' _ (That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you!
Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, am TOF) Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fa-
vou. Liv ‘|bian ; we'll whisper o’er a couplet or two of most
Enter tico Officers. Sa ES Sao

Vio. He nam’d Sebastian; I my brother know
Fab. O good sir Toby, hold; here come the} Yet living in ny glass;* even suc h and 80,
ofheers. In favour was my brother; and he went
Sir To. T'll be with you anon. [To Antonio. Stillin this fashion, colour, ornament,
Vio. Pray, sir, putup your sword, if vou please.| For him limitate: QO, if it prove,

| Zo Str Andrew.|Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!
ind, Marry, will I, sir?—and, for that | [ Exit.
promised you, Pil be as good as my word: Hi Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more
will bear vou easily, and reins well. a coward than a hare: his dishonesty appears, in

1 Off. This is the man; do thy office. leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying r

? OM. Ant onio, I arrest thee at the suit him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian,

Of count Orsino, | Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, reli
nt. You do mistake me, sir. rious in it,

1 Off. No, sir, no jot: Ik yvourfavour well,| Sir nd. ’Slid, ’ll after him again, and beat him,
Though now you have no sea-c ip on your head.—| Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw
Take him away: he knows, I know him well. ithy sword,

Ant. I must obey -—This comes with seeking you;| Sir. 6 AnlI do not,— [Exit,
But there’s no femedy ; I shall answer it Fab. Come, let’s see the event.

(1) none { conception,
(3) Ornamented.

(2) Laws of duel. (4) In the reflection of my own figure.| 88
' Sir T’o. 1 dare lay any money,
LF yet.
vk —l }

This r

dt ACT IV.

Nothing, that is so, is SO.
Seb. T pr *ythee, vent! thy folly somewhere e!

TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL,
twill be nothing|In this uncivil and unjust extent®
[Ex ceunt. | A cainst thy peace.

|And hear there how many

May’st smile a a.

Act II.

Go with me to my house ;
fruitless pranks

uffian hath botch’d up,‘ that thou thereby
thou shi iit not choose, but go;

7 a \De » not deny shrew® his soul for me
Li SCENE I.—The street before Olivia s house. | te started one ie heart of mine in thee.
Enter Sebastian and Clown. | Seb, What relish is in this? how runs the stream?
Clo. Will you make me believe, that Iam not /Or I am mad, or else this is a dream :
sent for you? Li t fancy § still my sense in Lethe steep:
Bh Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow Hf it be : thus to dream, still let me sle sep !
Let me be nlcah of hive: | Oli. Nay, come, I pr’ythee : ’would, thou’dst be
( Clo. Well held out, faith! No, I donotknow| fo} dl by me!
you; nor I am not se int to you ies my lady, to bid| Seb ladam, Iw ill
P| you come speak with her; nor your ni me is not| U#. O, say so, and sobe! [Eze.
Pi s his is not my nose neither.—
mae OkgO yen 0s ig ait my mose neitney SCENE II.—A room in Olivia’s house. Enter

Maria and Clown.

w’s me. Mar. WN: vt '
| thou know’ t not ne : net oe Mar. Nay, I pr’ythee, put on this gown, and
i Clo. Vent my folly! he has heard that word of) his beard; make him belie } att ite
if : : a ; or his beard; make him believe thou art sir Topas
some great man, and now appiles lt tO a fool.|the curate: do it quickly: Pll call sir T ,
| ce ot ie curate; do il quickly: call sir Toby the
ot Vent my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber, the | whilst | Exit Maria
i world, will prove a cockney.—t | pr’ythee now, un- oy all rit ere and I ae re - ois
| ; jee now, un-| Clo, Well, Pil put it on, and will dissemble
gird thy strangeness, and er me what I shall vent) myself in’t; and Iv ; a
F : i m f in’t: and I would I were the first that ever
bi to my lady; shall I vent J that thou art|djssembled in sucha gown. I am not fat enough
; i 7 ] Cu / bu ii « ; A ’ ® < < >
coming SS Hy Ito become the function well; nor lean enough to
Seb. I pr’ythee, foolish Greek, aepart trom n be thought a good student ’ but to be said
e { Ouch ‘ F() OL Ss ( ne: ; i
There’s money for the C5 if “MOU Larry LOTO™ r, honest an ind 2 O ra he ul eke : cot aa
inest man, an¢ oot ous ener, { S {
I shall give worse pi tyment. hGly .aato aay. # eereihl man : reas Oe
bdifiy, « SL LTC it a ‘ a vreat sc
Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand:—| Jar,” Th i hetitors® ents : oe ee,
x af. il PeLILOrTsS Cn .
These wise men, that give fools money, get them-
selves-a good re nort after fourteen years’ purcha Enter Sir T :
g I fourteen | purchase Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria.
Enter Sir Andrew, Six Toby, end Fabian | gel 1} 1
J, @ an. Bw a Jove bless thee, master parson.
aan Now, sir, have I met you again? tl ‘ Bonos dies, sir Toby: for as the old hermit
for Ler ‘kine Sebastian. |: * , that never saw_pen and ink, very wit-
‘Seb. “Why, there’s for thee, and there, and ther d to a niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is,
‘ @ | } : “it ‘ y
are all the people mad ? | Be ating Six Ay ) 1, being master parson, am master parson ;
; tic tha nt that? + 3 -
Sir To. Hold, sir, or Pll throw your dag o’e! what Is that, but that ! and is, but is?
the house. ' | Sir To. To him, sir Topas.
Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I would| c ut wW hat, hoa, I s Ly, —Pe ace in this prison !
° - ” 4 ry*} 2
not be in some of your coats for two-pence. Le To. The knave counterfeits well ; a good
[Exit Clown Hay
. . . ; es ‘ " | ) 1 an . T
Sir To. Come on, sir ; hold. Re: ROUSE ne” deen hamber.] Who calls there ?
Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way|., 4°: Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit
to work with him; [’ll have an ation 1 of battery |**°" lio the lunatic.
against him, if there be an y law 1 Ty ria: though}, “4%. Sir 4 opas,’ sit Topas, good sir Topas, go
I struck him first, yet it’s no matter for that. Pa lady
Seb. Let go thy hand. | Clo, Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest th
‘ | : yt rh Uc - Ai ou
Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come,|‘"S man! ulkest thou nothing but of ladies ?
my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well| % 'o, Well said, master parson.
fleshed ; come on. | Mal. Sir Topas. never was man thus wronged !—
Seb. 1 will be free from thee. What would’st|2° a sir 1oOpas, do nos think Iam mad; they have
thou now ? laid me here in hideous darkness. .
Y ‘s th sa} + Gath
If thou dar’st tempt me further, draw thy sword. es Mie, - pote dishonest Sathan! I call thee by
l Draw he most modest terms for] am one of those ge
‘ i co ° i 4 -y : ; gen-
Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have| “© SMS") ©" t will use the devil himself with cour-
an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. |'@Sy; Say'st thou, thal house is dark ?
Enter Olivia. { Why, 3 h h bay-windows,® transparent as
, barricadot nd the clear stones towards the so
yard south-
Hf Oli. Hold, Toby ; on thy life, I charge thee , hold. north areas lustrous asebony: and vet compl: .
Sir To. Madam ? ‘thou of obstruction ? ~ : soem
Oli. Will it be ever thus? ot rracious wretch | Mal. lam not mad, sir Topas ; I say to y i
Fit for the mountai Hh , #am not mad, sir Lopas ; 1 say to you, this
ains, and the barbarous cave S, house is dark, 7 ?
Where aatht ne’er were sip mak d! outof my| Clo. M: dman, thou errest: I say, there is no
sich St Bi lene, ro ’ ‘oe 2 ee 2 ¥
‘ idarkness, but lenorancs nw ]
. Be not offended, dear Cesario :—— lnuzzied. than the E In hic h thou art more
2 puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog.
Rudesby,? be gone !—I pr ’ythee, gentle friend | Mal. I say, this house is as dar]
; i . ite oe ; 5S nouUse S As ; «
[Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. |though ignorance were as d rk “ ay lias
=! J Lit unc ere AS Ga as : a7 -
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway cinch: wah meaeenie thine abe is het; ane Aang
4 sn nan thus abused: | am no more
{2 a pe (2) Rude fellow. (3) Violence (6) Disguise. 7) Confederates
ade UP. (5) Ill betide. (8) Bow-windows,Scene If,

“> *

mad than you are
stant ques tion,!

Clo. What is t]

ing wild-fow! ?
«Val. That the 6

inhabit a bird

Clo. W}
Mal. | think

“n

prove his opinion.
Clo. Fare thee
ness: thou shalt
ere I will allow
woodcock, lest t
grandam. Fare thee well l rage and Rh "
-Wal. Sir Topas, sir ‘J f , ah, ha! to the devil
To Lik nad lad
Sir To. My most exqu i ig ee
Clo. Nay, I ll wat ' | eo |
4 wit | &
Mer. Thou micht’st hav ate wt Adieu, » drivel, [Exit th
b ra rie wri r} = 7
. — tT ry . fae a ate
Sir To. To him in thi ‘ i ' I, Vi . Enter Sebastian,
; WwW i nO mi i ~ i | 4 : ¥\ . : ; : : : ‘ + te the elorious sun; ;
} lI ria. ol > AD I ! r a feel’t and see’t:
vy ft } ; | .
Comey GCi" yin we'd : t enwraps me thus,
bias ’ A Yi . Where’s Antonio then?
with any sal 3 ; I hant
rect t ; { \1 : . e
and b ; \ ‘ ' ' i " this credit.”
(lo Hey ii . i scek me out.
4 H lden service
Val I M1 =e yilh mv sense
oe
‘ oO oh t : ’ madness,
Mal. | —- | 1 of fortune,
Clo. las, dist see
Mal. Fool, I say:— yes,
Clo Sl { | ; ’ rer »_< >
. : p lades mé
x } |
Mal. Good fool, [ am mad
nt i | ip m : f (y
' : - ¥
rd M I i i comm her for
thanktul to thee |
(io A | iSia NI \ ' } rnd +) ir despatch,
Val 1 fool ; 1 atahla |
° 7 . & he | . wit aring
J A¥ WG 10 ; nd ) ear ng,
Clo. Alas, sir, how As. | *s something in’,
Mal, Fool, t comes the lady.
slyrpeapel | + ne t i .
Clo. But as wel t Priest
you be no better In jy oe
" Mal They | f I mi i you mean ‘
in i k = { l . } }
: \ : a | , AT)
t! ’ iri » | : “2
(7 Ady ; : i 7 ryiy ly :
here.—Maly » Malvol ’ f ed root,
I '
‘ : — . : see \? ‘ : in:
resto ‘ ' ; ; it } % ’
vain bibble ha } } fal soul

‘opas.—Miarry
Mal. Fool,

.

Clo. Al sir,
I am shent® for sp

Mal. (;ood foo!)
paper; I tell thee
man in Lilvria.

Well

1e ¢

i ol.

il

Ol

iobly

of our erandam micht ! y | wi e, | cone
i
C| I am le, Si

nt Sener one his opinion ? An on. si?

soul, Lv " Pit yrain

In ; é
well: remain thou still in) - Like lo the old vice,’
hold the « 10 { Pvt] Yo 1eed to sustain;
ot Ly Wii na it ; bil
hic aiitae’ tha aotad hd Who with dagger of lat!

!

lo. 4 ‘idee
Mal. By this hand
Mp and lirht, ir
»y my lady; it shall ;

I
! ;
the ber aring of |
Clo. I will hely

vou not ae uncle

1) Regular cor
) Any other

(
(
(
(:

1)
0

ed [

iver

vem
Taken possession of.

) Seold ed, r prim: anded. |

M

make

. : . ) +} i ; *71
ypinion of Pythagoras, concern- his brains. I will

          
    
         
    
   
     
   
 
  
   
     
   
  
    
   
  
   
     
  
  
  
   
   

TWELFTH-NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 8Y

the trial of it in any con

ww

lieve I am not; I tell thee true.

vy, Pll ne’er believe a madman, till I see
fetch you light, and paper, and ink,

Mal. Fool, Vl requite it in the highest degree

me,

fe MM L conceal if,
le ¥\ i ll come to note ;
(; : \ ' ; \ lel n keep
— | ir, | wi ‘ \ t do you say ?
\ ’ in nd go with you;

\" ‘ y tu. Si And. vil rn truth, ever will be true,

     

rn ,% (is. J n | 4 way, good father :——And
v inn Phat note this act of mine! [Eve
+ { ' oe - - ‘
Iain: good fool, some inl ACT V
convey ¥ I x ny °
lvant ae ' et ', ; Ci INV / t before Olivia’s house.
lid. | ( n and Fabian.
uto’t. But tell me true,
; : te
of a }Vvou | Lik ¢ | } ~\ 5] ' e. let me sec his letter,
sation A | character in the old plays, and
as afopaz. (9 Senses. fa ‘of | modern harlequin.
7) Act init. (5) Reason. (9) Belief.
{10) Servants. (11) Little ch pel. (12) Until50 TWELFTH-NIGHT ;

Sa tne eet

—

     
   
    

OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

a Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another re-
H Lie quest.

a | Fab. Any thing.

, i te || Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.

Fab. That is, to give 2
desire my dog again.

Enter Duke, Viola, and allendants.

 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
 
   
   
    
   
  
 
  
     
    
  
 
    
  
     
  
  
   
  
   
  
     
   
 
 
  
   
  
    
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
  

Duke. Belong you to the lady Clivia, friends ?

would you could make it ae
Duke. O, you give me iil «
Clo, Put your grace in vour eat ‘ket, sir
once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinn
double-dealer ; there’s another.
Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good
the old saying is, the third pays for all :
sir, is a rood tripping measure

'
at }

for this

,
to bea

oi
piay: and
the triples,

bells of St.

or i he

here to speak with her
you, it may awake my bounty further.

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty,
come again. I go. but I would not have
to think, that my desire of having is the sin of co-
vetousness: but, as you say, let your bounty
take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown.

Enter Antonio and OMfcers.

Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
Duke. That face of his .d6 remember we ll ;
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear’d
As black as Vulean, in the smoke of war:
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable :
With which such seathful! grap ple did he make
With the most noble hottom of our flee t,
That very envy, and the tongue of loss,
Cry’d fame and honour on him.-—What’:
1 Off. Orsino, this i is that Antonio,

Sir:
irs

SIT,

That took the Phenix, and her fraucht,? from
Candy;
And this is he, that did the Tiger board,
nl When your young nephew Titus lost his lee:

Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and sta
In private brabble did we apprehend him.

Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my sid
But, in conclusion, put strange ‘speech upon ma

i (1\ Mischievous. (2) Freight,

and bring her along with|

till 1}

you]

dog, and, in recompense,

iBoth d
|

|

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}

j

 

sthe matter? | Like

(But more of that

iIt is

  

/ict V.

 

I know not what ’twas, buf distrattion.

Duke. Notable pirate ! ! thou salt-water thief!
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies
Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear,

Hast made t thine enemies ?

sino, noble sir,

Ant. Or:
Be pleas’d that I shake off these names you give me,
Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate,

on base of cround enough,

I confess, hither
winer :

mm
Though

 

Orsino’s itcheraft Grew me
Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. [Orsino’s encmy. A Pal oy the re, by your side,
a cel ay thee well; How dost thou, MY! Pro m the rude sea’s enrag’d and foamy mouth
.
af) 1 a ee sir, the better for my foes, and the! Did I redeem ; a, wreck ist hope ne: was :
By Y» ? i}is life I gave him, and did thereto add
:: worse for my frie nds. \My love, without re tention, or restraint,
' Duke. Just the contrary; the better for thy! 41) nis in dedication: for his sake,
i friends. is 'Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Clo. No, sir, the worse. ltnto the danwer of this adverse town ;
i Duke. How can that be? ‘ | Drew to defend him, when he was beset;
ae Clo. Marry, SIF, thy ¥ pra e me, and’make an a IW) here being apprehended, his false cunning
| of Be 5 y- LOW my foes tell me plainly “sii a a | ( Nots ne nine 19 pai iuke W ith me mH danger, )
ri that by my foes, sir, I pre 2 in the knowledee of}, aucht hin to face me out of his acquaintance,
th myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that, | Ande rew a twenty-years-removed thing,
i conclusions to be as kisses, i your four negauvesiwuite onc would wink; denied me mine own
iil make your two aflirmatives, why, then the worse| ~ ae
Hh for my friends, and the better for my foes. Whicl 1 | Aa arninended to his ine
oe Duke. W hy, t this as excellent. ae eo T a) a ey ee cc te
Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you] Vio. es How can this be?
to be oe of may friends, : ; 7 Duke. Vhen came he to this town ? ‘
bocenate shalt not be the worse for me | Ant. 2 ren my lord; and for three months
Clo. But that it would he a ST OMnS, sir, 1S Ak, St a 3 minute’s vacancy.)

Ly and night did we keep company.

Ent and attendants.

r Olivia

Duke. Were the countess; now heaven
walks on earth
Sut for thee, fellow, fellow

iThree months tht

comes

, thy words are madness:
youth hath tended eae me ;

anon,——T ake him aside.

What would my lord, but that he may not
have,

| Wherein Olivia may

.

Oli.

seem serviceable
esario, you do not keep promise with me.

Vio. Madam?

Duke. Gracious Olivia,——

Oli, What do you say, Cesario?——Good my
lord, _—_—— c

Vio. My lord would s peak, my duty hushes me,

Oli. If it be

as fat? and ft

rht to aa old
tlsome t

aus my lord,

tune,
oO mine ear,

‘As howling after music.

Duke. Still sO cruel ?

Oli. Still so constant, lord.

Duke. What! to perverseness? you uncivil l: idy,
['o whose ingrate and un Luspicious altars
My soul the faithfull’st offerings hath breath’d out,

That e’er devotion tender’d! What sh;

ll I do?

Olt. Even what it »my lord, that shall be.
come him. ;
Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Ake to the Egyptian thief, at point of death,
Kill what I love; a savage jealousy,
Tho ¢ —— : :
inat sometume savours me ; ?— But hea P me this ;
|Since you to non-regardance cast mv fF ‘ith,
And that I partly know the i! strument
| That screws me > from my true place in your favour,
te,| Live you, the rble-breasted tyr: ant, still:

| But this your minion, whom, I know, you love
‘And whom, by heaven, I I tend ;
DY D ender dearly
Va vill I tea hy : dearly,
im W tear out of tl at cruel eye,

(3) Dull, er

swear

OSS
rer)scene I,

VV he rt he
Come boy, with m«
chief:

  

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 9.

iis Crowned in his master’s spite.
my thoughts

lil sacrifice the lamb that I do love.

,

lo apite a

To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
be le iw
Ci. VW] c ro { 10 /
| Ticks talint Steve
Nia than | love these e My lhanuny til
Miere, by all m than e’er | ill love wi
If ldo t nn. you witness LboVve,
Ponish my h for tamntt f mv love!
f Ah, me, detested! how am I beeuil’d!
j Who do be e you? who do a

O8. Al if us the
That mM kes 1 c si
Fear not. Ces a
he that thou know’
A tas that thou

R -enl \
| er, ich Cc liv
Here to unfold (thor
l'o keep in darkness

I hare travelled but t
Duke, O, thou dies

itil

When time hath sew’d a
Or will not else thy craf
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow

Farewell, and take her :

W here thou and

vd |
} 10, My lord, l do p

Oli,
flold little faith, thor

Enter Sir Andre Ww

Sir And. For the love of God, a

one presently to sir Toby.

ly eye . 7 it '
; | ‘
thy fortu tip
i art | } yt
ir’ at ). wel nc, |
nt an Pries
by thy reverence,
| tel we il ; nee |
t occasion now
~~.) W iat t} ul d t ki WwW,
r this youth ant 1
eternal bond of love,
: of \ winds,
close of lit S,
} ' erent ot vou rics
this ¢ { |
¥Ymvy testin \
ch hath told m Lowart
wo hour
mbling cub! what wiltt
rrizzie ¢ LNY Case

Oli, What's the ma
Sir “Ind. He has br

riven sir Toby a bloody cox
of God, your help: I ha

I were at home.

Oli, Who has done ¢}

Sir ‘ Ind.

The count’

raven’s heart within a dove.
bee, And 1. most jocund, apt,

SO (UM kly geroyw

' ul cure ct thy icet

+ 7 at
hencetorth may never meet.
tect ..
(). do not V"
inou ha Loo mut |
ofa} i
Uc- ; k. wih t #€a
le»

urreon ;<

me my hy ul CTOSS, FAT

d rativer than torly poun

° ° ; ’
’ ei r ut
¢ sir Andrew

gentleman, one Ce
hate ¢}

we took him for a coward, but he he vers

micardinats

Duke. My ntleman, Cesario |

(1) Disown thy
(3) Otherways.

}

i?

roperty.

i

  

;

(2) Skin.

(4) Serious dancers,

| re ier,
ind willingly,

 

Sir “Ind, Qd’s lifelings, here he is:—You broke

are ripe in mis-|my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was

set on to do’t by sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never nurt you:
You drew your sword upon me, without cause ;
Gut T bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

Sir Ind. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you

ive hurt me; I think, you sct nothing by a bloody

Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk, led by the Clown,

Llere comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear more :
but if he had not been in drink, he would have

tickled vou othereates? than he dia.
I) Llow now, centleman ? how is’t with you ?
Sir 4 Chats all one; he has hurt me, and
there’s { nd on't.—Sot, did’st see Dick surgeon,

Cfo. O he’s drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ;
eves were set at eteht YP the morning.
Then he’s arowue. After a passy-mea-
‘ ay | hate a drunken rocue.
Ol. Away with him: who hath made this havoe

Sir ind. Pil help you, sir Toby, because we'll
cre ed tocether.
ut help, an ass-head, and a cox-

mb nave ? a thin-faeed knave, a cull?
Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look’d to.
| ba nt Clown, Ser Toby, and Sur Andrew.

Leutor Sebastian,

y, madam, I have hurt your kins-
But, » brother of my blood,

I must have done no less, with wit, and safety,
You throw a strange regard upon me, and

By that Ido perceive it hath offended you ;

Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows

\We made each other but so late ago.

One face, one voice, one habit, and two

_—
~

\ natural perspective, that is, and is not,
ear Antonio!
How have the hours rack’d and tortur’d me,

“ (*¢ | have lost thes
int, Sebastian are vou?
Seh. lear’st thou that, Antonio?
Int. How have you made division of yourself?

An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these tw Which is Sebastian?
Oli. Most wonderful !
Sch. Do | stand there? I never had a brother:
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have devour’d:—
Of charity,* what kin are you to me? [To Viola,
What countryman? what name? what parentage,
Sebastian was my father ;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,

so went he suited to his watery tomb:

| irits can ossume both form and suit,
You come to {right us,

Seb, \ spirit I am indced ;
Sut am in that dimension grossly clad,

Which from the womb I did participate,

, as the rest goes even,

[ should my tears let fall upon your cheek,

\r { say— ri rice we leome, drowned Viola!
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow,

o had mine,

Were you a woman

(5) Out of charity tell me.92 TWELFTH NIGHT; ¢

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth] with the which

Had number’d thirteen years.
Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul!
He finished, indeed, his mortal act,
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
Vio. If nothing lets! to make us happy both,
But this my masculine usur p’d attire,
Do not embrace me, till each ; ircumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump,
That I am \ iola: whie h to confirm,
I’ll bring you to a captain in this town,

IR, WHAT YOU WILL.

    

Act a

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 

I doubt not but to do myself much

Think of me as you

lright, or you much shame.
Iplease. Tleave my duty a little unthought of, and
ispeak out of my injury.

The madly-used Malvolio.
Oli. Did he write this ?
Clo. Ay, madam.
| Duke. This savours not much of distraction.
Oli. See him deliver’d, Fabian; bring him hither.
| [Exit Fabian.
|

| My lord, so please you, these things further thought

Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle help, | on,

I was presery’d, to serve this noble count:
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady, ai this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook

[ T’o Olivia.

But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv’d;
You are betroth’d both to a maid and
Duke. Be not amaz’d ;
If this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wrec
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousan

a maid;

man

 

Thou never should’st love woman like to me
Vio. And all those sayings will I over-sw

And al] those swearines me p as true in soul,

As doth that orbed continent the fire

That severs day from night
Duke. n

And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.

Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore,

Hath my maid’s garments: he, wy
Is now in durance; at Malvolio’s suit,
A gentleman, and follower of my lady’s.
Oli, He shall enlarge him:—Fetch Malvoli
hither :—
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he’

Re-enter C lov Vv n, with a le Lig ys

A most extracting frenzy enna own
From my remembrance clearly banish’d his.
How does he, sirrah ? ;

Clo. Truly, madam,
stave’s end, as well as a m:
he has here writ a letter to you; I should hay
given it to you to-day morning ; but as a madman’
epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much
they are delivered.

Oli. Open it, and read it.

Clo. Look then to be wel! edified, when the foo!
delivers the madman:—By the Lord, madam,—

Oli. How now! art thou mad?

Clo. No, madam, I do but read mad: : pi
your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you
must allow vox.?

Oli, Pr’ythee, read ? thy right wit

Clo. So I do, 1
wits, is to read thus:
cess, and give ear,

Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian.

Fab. [reads. | By the Lord, madam, you wrong

he holds Belzebuh at the

i

therefore perpend,* my pr in=|

put me into darkness, and given your drunken
cousin rule over me,
senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own
letter that induced me to the semblance I put on

me, and the world shall know it - thouch you haveiS

t

(1) Hinders. (2) Voice. (3) Attend,
(4) Frame and constitution, (5) Inferior,

Y
P oe a :
richt nobleis his blood.—! And since you «

; ht . .
LN) in nis Cas may Go;

nadonna: but to ae his right

yet have I the benefit of my|

| To think me as well a sister as a wife,

| One day shall crown the alliance on’t, so please you,

| Here at my house, and at my proper cost.

Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your
offer. —

;

} x our master ae te: you:

service done him,

So much against the mettle’ of your sex

So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,

ill’d me master for so long,

you shall from this time be

[Zo Viola.] and, for your

co . 1
racre IS MY ind :

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 ?
\7,,} AT.
Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong,
\ ‘ > : 2 .
iN OLOTIOUS Wron?’.
Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no.
’ } }. . . }
Mal, Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that
lad4 es
letter:

1 ou must not now deny it is your hand,

e trom it, if you ean, in hand, or phrase ;

Or say, ’lis 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:
B me come smiling, and cross-garter’d to vou,
to put on yellow stoclines, and to frown cia
Up Dn sir Toby, and the lighter® people ;

Al |, acting this in an obedient hope,

Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d,

ept in a dark house, visited by the priest,

And m ude the most notorious geck,.® and gull,

that e’er invention play’d on? tell me why.
O Alas, Mals aor this ts not my writing
x11 ; . _
hough, I conf , m 1 like the ch racter:
But, out of question, *ti : Murtala tee
(ndmow I do bethink me, it was she
ns. } } : ; ity
| Abii me, thou w SLmad: th ncam’stin smiling
A whl os ' or v} ; 7
ndan such forms which here were presuppos’d
Upéfethee in the letter. Pryth e be content :
Cth cuce hath most shrewdly pass’d upon thee ;
= i ;
BI ue : we Know the ¢ is and authors of it,
‘hou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Ut thine own ¢ S¢
| ‘Fab. G madam, hear me spe ak ;
And let no quarrel, nor no brawl! to e ome,
Tal nt the econditi yn of this present hour,

i

| Which lL have wonder'd at, es hope it shalt not,
| Most treely I confi ss, mvs if, and Toby

. ; . . J?
et this device against \ ilvolio here,

7

i
|Upon some stubborn and uncourteo: us parts
} a, | Rae
| We had conceiv’d against him: Maria writ
| The letter, at sir Toby’s ereat importance :
iIn ene ence whereof, he hath married her
|How with a sporttul malice it was follow’d,

(6) Fool,

7

(7) Importunacy,Scene I.

May rather pluck on laug) ter

If that the injuries be just!
That have Of} both sicle S }

’

Ol. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled! thee ! For the

Clo. Why, some areé oo}
greatness, and some have ¢
them. Iwas one, sir, in this
pas, sir; but that’s ell on
am not mad ;—But do y

why laugh you at such

smile not, he’s gage’d: A

time brings in

Oli. He h ith been most

Duke. Pursue him, and «
He hath not told us of t
When that is |] nown,
A solemn combination shal
Of our dear souls—Meantin
We will not part from hen
For so you shall be, while
But, when in other habits
Orsino’s mistress, and his |

ef

SONG.

Clo,

With hey, ho. 1

ol for lish thing was {

For the 7am ul ra

When that I was la

 

?

} ' ;
iy bh wl hey

  
 
  
  
    
  
  
 
  
   
  
    
    
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 

TWELFTH NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 93

revenge : But when ] came to man’s estate,

1, ho, the wind and the rain,
’Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate,
it raineth every day.

radi ui

st : But when I came, alas! to wive,

one Sir 1 o- With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
- By swage ring could I never thrive,

ber/ Ma . bor the rain it raineth eve ry day.

sOUS . But awhen [ came unto my bed

i.
$ \ Lig i a9 ind and the rain,
! an } toss-pot I t drunk en head,
Ne paeK ol Jou [ rian Lrainelih every day.
: :
a) : ll Zz 19 th uw r/ ] berun,
‘ to peace :— Wil , ho, the wind and the rain,
vet : But | , our play is done,
convents? in Ut strive lo please you every day,
Exit.

nee

Lman: This play is in the graver part elegant and easy

scenes exquisitely humo-

meen. [Fxreunt. rous. A T . 18 drawn with great propriety,

character 1s, In a great measure, that of

i fatuity, and 2s therefore not the proper pre y
i i 7. loguy of NMalvolio is truly
is betrayed to ridicule merely by his
l the rain, ide. The marriage of Olivia, and the succeed-
well enough cantrived to
wants credibility, and fails to
ce the p r instruction required in the dra
rve. ma, it exhibi's no just picture of life.

JOHNSON,CMF.)

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
  
   
   
    
   
  

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

 

 

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Vincentio, duke of Vienna. | Clown, servant to Mrs. Over done.
Angelo, lord deputy in the duke’s absence. _ |Abhorson, an executioners ..
Esealus, an ancient lord, jcined with Angelo in| Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner.

the deputation. ae st
Claudio, a young gentleman. Isabella, sister to Claudio.
Lucio, a fantastic. \Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Two other like gentlemen. Juliet, beloved by Claudio.
Varrius, a gentleman, servant to the duke. \rancisea, a nun.

Provost. | Wistress Over-done, a bawd.
Thomas ;

; p og pp } . in , :
Peter, * two friars. LF ovats gentlemen, guards, officers, and other at-
A Justice. tendants,
Elbow, a simple constable.
Froth, a foolish gentleman.

 

RE

ACS :t. Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee.
| Hfeaven-doth with us, as we with torches do:
SCENE I,—An apartment in the Duke’s palace, | Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues

Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and attendants. | Did not go forth of us, ’twere all alike
| As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch’d,
Duke. | Gut to fine issues:* nor nature never lends

The smallest seruple of her excellence,
Escatus,— | But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines

Escal, My lord, He rself the clory of a creditor,

Duke. Of government the properties to unfold, | Both thanks and use.®. But I do bend my speech
Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse ;|To one that can my part in him advértiss
Since I am put to know that your Own science, | Hold therefore, Angelo ;

Excceds, in that, the lists! ofall advice |{n our remove, be thou at full ourself;
My strength can give you: then rio more remains) Mortality and mercy in Vienna

But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able,|Live in thy toneue and heart - Old Esealus,
And let them work. The nature of ou people, Though first in question, is thy secondary -
Our city’s institutions, and ihe terms Take thy ecommissi

’

LO,

For common justice, you are as pregnant? in, In Now, good my lord,
As art and practice hath enriched an: Let there be some more test made of my metal,
That we remember: there is our commission, Before so noble and so great a figure
From which we would not. have you warp.—Call| Be stamp’d upon it.

hither, | Duke. No more evasion:

I say, bid come before us Angelo.— |We have with a leaven’d and prepared choice
[Exit an attendant.|Proeceeded to you: therefore t
What figure of us think you he will bear ?
For you must know, we have with special soul That it preters itself, and leaves unquestion’d
Elected him our absence to supply ; Matters of needful value. We shall write to 1 ou,
Lent him our terror, drest him with our love : \s time
And given his deputation all the organ:
Of our own power: what think you of it?
Eseal. Ifany in Vienna be of worth
To undergo such ample grace and honour,

ake your honours.
Qur haste Irom hence is ol so quick condition,

and our concernings shall linportune,
Low it goes with us: and do look to know
What doth befall you here. So. fare you well:
To the hopeful execution do I leave you

/Of your commissions. ,

It is lord Angelo. ne, Yet, give leave, my lord,
si That we may bring you something on the wav.
Enter Angelo. | Duke. My haste may not admit it -
Duke. Look, where he comes, | Nor need you, on mint honour, have to do
Ang. Always obedient to your rrace’s will. With any scruple : your scope’ Is as mine own :
I come to know your pleasure. )>0 to enforce, or qualify the laws,
Duke. Angelo, | As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand ;

There is a kind of character in thy life,
That, to the observer, doth thy history
Fully unfold: thyself and thy belongings?

}V ul privily aw ay: I love the people,
But do not like to stage me to their eyes:
Though it do well, I do not relish wel}

Are not thine own so proper,* as to waste | The it loud appl LuSe, and aves” veh ment :
{3 Bounds. (2) Full of. (8) Endowments, (5) For high purposes, (6) Interest.
4) So much thy own property, (7) Extent of power, (8) Hailings.“Tt

  

 

ar eee ee

ss

fancy

 

  

= 4

 

ree an - "2 -~< — _

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

s é

'Seene II.

Nor do I think the man of safe discretion,

That does affect it. Once more, fure you i]
“ing. The heavens give safety to your pur
Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back u

ness,
Duke. I thank vou: fare yeu well. [
Escal. I shall desire you, sir, to ivi if |
To have free speech with you; and it concerns |!

T’o look into the bottom of mv plac
A power l havi : but of wil streneth as n
I am not ye

ing. ’Tis so with me:—Let us withdraw

vreiTnyer

t instructed.

,

: ;

And we may soon our satlisiacwhion hay
Touching that point.

Escal.

SCENE 1I.—A street. Enter Lucio and t

‘ +] :
Gentiemen.

Lucio. If the duke, with the other dukes, com

not to composition with the king of Hungary, w
then all the dukes fall upon the kin

1 Gent. Heaven grant us ils peace, UULI
king of Hungary’s!

2 Gent. Amen.

Lucio. Thou concludest like the sanet
pirate, that went to sea with the ten com

; a? i

ments, but scraped one out ol :
® Gent, Thou shalt not st if
Lucio. Av, that he razed.
| Gent, Why, ’twas a commandment to ¢

mand the captain and all the rest from | ri
tions ; they put forth to steal: there's not a sok
of us all, that, in the thanks¢ivin helo }
doth relish the petition well that prays tf
2 Gent. Lnever heard anv soldier di i
Lucio. I believe thee; for, | Unk, thou ne

;

wisi whe re grace Was sal
fyé il. N\ i ad en ty it | a

of all controversy is for exampl
art a wicked villain, despil i
1 Gent. Well, the: went bi i
between us.
Jucto. I grant; as there 1
and the velvet: thou art the het.
| Genl. And thou th velvet
velvet: thou arta three-ml'd piece, 1s
I had as lief be a list of an | ish }
oe as thou art pil’d, fora French velvet. 1)

,

cak feelin ly now

lucto. | think thou dost: and, 1, wi
most painful feeling of th ecn: |
thine own coniession, | nto b }
but, whilst I live, forget to drink at

<-

| Gent. I think |
have l not

> Gent. Yes, that thou hast: whether thou
tainted, or free.

Lucio. Behold, behold, whe
tion comes! 1f have purchased as n
under her roof, as come to—

> tent. To what, 1)

| Gent. Jude.

2 Gent. To three thousand dollars a ve

1 Gent. Ay, and more.

]
3

( ) Measure. (2) A cut of the same clot!
(3)

A jest on the loss of hair by the French disease

  

 

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nch crown’ more.

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ry il
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95

art always figuring diseases in
full of error: Iam sound.

say, healthy ,
thy bones

ft as one wouk

things that are hollow:

npiety has made a feast of thee.

. . . + * :
now ? Which of your hips has the

ll: there’s one yonder arrested,

rison, was worth five thousand of

yes sionior Claudio, led by the peo.

ir,that’s Claudio, signior Claudio.

} ’ > ‘
10 to prison! “US HOt SO,

it | yw, tis so: [saw him ar-
1 carried away and, which is
se three days his head’s to be
(ti ll this fooling, I would not
ure of tos /
of it: and itis for getting
wi! child.
¢, Ls may be: he promised
since; and he was ever pre-
\ w, itdraws something
we had to such a purpose,
{ all, agreeing with the pro-
let’s vo learn the truth of it.
Exewunt Lucio end Gentlemen.
what with the war, what with the
{ llows, and what with

m-shrunk, Hiow now ? what's

af ul with ehild by him?

imi bY hime

| ; 1 HAVE YOu

‘ { Vienna must
ll | of those in the
i] tand fi ed: they had Fone
bureher put in fer them.

uses of resort in the

change, indeed, in the

v\ | become of me
ood counsellors lack
nmyouchaner: vour place, you need
wie; Pil be your tapster still.
taken on you: you that
out in the service, you

re, Thomas Tapster? Ict’s

there’s madam Julict. |

wl,

ond } Ter ia,
weating sickricss,Re ae

ye Serre

965 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act I.
SCENE III.—‘he same. ae Provost,! Clau-|

dio, Juliet, and Olficers; Lucio, and two Gen-|
tlemen.

Claud. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to| 3
Gaslare her, in my voice, that she make friends

the world?
Bear me to prison, where I am committed.
Prov. I do it not in evil disposition,
But from lord Angelo by special charge.

Claud. 'Thus can the demi-god, Authority,
Make us pay down for our offence by weight.—
The words of heaven ;—on whom it will, st will;
On whom it will not, so; yet still ’tis just.

Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio ? whence comes
this restraint ?

Claud. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:
As surfeit is the father of much fast,

So every scope by the immoderate use

Turns to restraint: our natures do pursue
(Like rats that ravin? down their proper bane, )
A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die.

Lucio. If | could speak so wisely under an arres
I would send for or of my ¢
to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of
freedom, as the Pncuitek ol Sis sietderchiant:- Bl nat’
thy oflence, Claudio ?

Claud. What, but to speak of would offend again.

Lucio. What is it ? murder ?

Claud. No.

Lucio. Lechery ?

Claud. Call it so.

Prov. Away, sir; you must go.

Claud. One word, good iriend :—Lucio, a word

with you. {Takes him aside.

Lucio. A hundred, y'll do you any good.—
Is lechery so look’d after ?

Claud. Thus stands it with me:—Upon a try

contract

I got possession of Julietta’s bed:

You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
Save that we do the denunciation lac!
Of outward order: this we came not to
Only for propagation of a dower
Remaining in the coffer of her friends ;
From whom we thought it meet to hide our love,
Till time had made them for us. But it chance
The stealth of our most mutual entertaim

With character too gross, is writ on Juli

Lucio. With child, perhaps?

Claud. Unhappily, even so.

And the new de sputy now for the duke,—
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness:
Or whether that the body public be

A horse whereon the governor doth rid
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know

He can command, lets it straight feel the spur:
Whether the tyranny be in his place

re a ;: and ve

. . . . ‘ ?
Or in his eminence that fills it up,
I stagger in :—But this new governor
Awakes me all the enrclled penalties,

Which have, like unscour’d armour, hune bv the
wall ;

So long, that nineteen zodiacs* have gone rou nd,

And none of them been worn: and, for a name

Now puts the drowsy and neglected act

Freshly on me:—’tis surely for a name.

Lucio. I warrant it is: and { Ly nead stands so
tickle* on thy shoulders, that a milk-maid, if she
be in love, may sigh it off. Se nd aver the duke,
and appeal to him.

Gaoler. (2) Voraciously deyour,
Yearly circles. (4) Ticklish.
Enter on her probation, (6) Prompt,

crc =—

i When she w

1 And yet my nature never in the sight,

   
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
      
   
  
 
 
  
   
  
    
      
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
   
    
 
  
  
 
  
    

 

Claud. I have done so, but he’s not to be found.
I pr’ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service :
This day my sister should the cloister enter,
And there receive her approbation :
Acquaint her with the danger of my state ;

To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him ;

lI have great hope in that: for in her youth

r

Ihere is a prone® and spee $ hless dialect,
Such as moves men; besides, she hath pros :perous
art

ill play with reason and discourse.
Lucio. | pray she may: as well for the encourage-

ment of the like, which else would stand under

vous imposition; as for the enjoying of thy life,

ho I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost

at a game of tick-tack. Pll to her.

Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio.
Lucio. Within two hours;——
Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt.

aff monastery. Enter Duke and
Friar Thomas.

Duke. No; holy father ; throw away that thought;
Believe not that the ae dart of love

ic in pie rce a cOmp tet » bosom :7 why I desire thee
l‘o give me secret harlics ir, 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 knows than you
1e life remov’d ;8

And held tn idle price to haunt assemblies,

\V here youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps. *
] have de livered to lord Angelo

(A man of stricture,'® and firm abstinence, )

My absolute power and place here in Vienna,

ow | have ever lov’d t}

!
And he upposes me tray l’d to Poland;
‘or so I have strew’d it in the common ear,
A) » it Is recelv’d: now, pious sir,
}icu will demand of me, why I do this?
f Gladiy, my lord.
Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting
"he needful bits and curbs for headstrong steeds, )
vg BOE A ees
Which for these Petes years we have let sleep ;
Ty.’ |

ike an over-grown lion in a cave.

| That goes not out to prey: n¢ Ws as fond fathers

Having bound up the threat ning twigs of birch,

Mnly to stick it in their children’s si ght,
ror terror, not to ust 4 in time the rod
sh oo
Becom s more mock’d, th in fear’d: so our decrees,
Dead to inflicti nm, LO the mselves are de ad ;
And liberty plucks justi » by the nose ;
ry ; : 3 -s ; T : :
Che bab) eats the pubes, and quite athwart
{70esS ll deco um.

rs Peart .

byt. it rested in your grace

['o unloo this tied-up justice, when you pleas’d:
I AL In you more dreadful would have seem ’d,
Chan in lord Angelo.
: Duke. I do fear, too dreadful :
Sith"! ’twas my fault to give the | people scope,
[would be my tyranny to strike. and gall them
‘or what I bid them do: for we bid this be done,
i\ When e Me deeds have their permissive past,
|And not the punishment. The refore, indeed m
» MY
father,
have on Angelo impos’d the office

Who may, in the am bush of my nz ime, strike home
,

(8) Retired,
Showy dress resides (10) Strictness,

tg 1) completely armed. ,
9)
(11) Since,Scene V.

To do it slander: and to behold
as ‘twere a brother of your
Visit both prince and pe ople : |
Supply me with the habit,

may formally in perso:

Like a true friar. More

{ will,

How

At our more leisure sh
Only, this one :—Lord

Stands at a ruard! with en
That his blox aa flows, or |

$ more to bread than

if power change purp

SCENE V.—/4 ni

 

Tsab. And have you m

Fran. Are not thes

Isab, Yes, trulv: I sp
But rather wishit im
Upon the sisterhood, th

Lucio. Ho! peace be j

Isab.

Fran. It is a man’s voi
Turn you the |} ey, and kr

You may, I may not

When you have 1
men,

But in the presence of

Then, if you speak, 5

Or, if you show your face

He calls again: I pray

Isab. Peace and '

Ent

Lucio. Hail, virgin,
roses

Proclaim you are no |

As bring me to the si
A novice of this place.
To her = opy brot
Isab. hy he I
The rath os ri now
I am that Isabella, and
Lucio. Gentl

eTeeCts Vo *

Not te he weary wit +¥

Isab. Wome! Fi
Lucio. var that,
jude
He should receive his ;

He hath got his friend wit!
Isah. Sir, ir ike me not

Lucio.
T would not—thon
With maids to seein th

Tongue far from heart,-
I hold you as a thing ec:

By your renouncemen!

And to be talk’d with in

As with a saint.
Isab. You do blasp!
me,
Lucio. Do not beli:
’tis thus:
Your brother and his !

As those that fee j v ay
That from the seedness t

On his defence.

1)
3) In few and true words
5)

Tiling, (6) Extent,

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

4

pe

nt design,

(7 ) Power of gaining arom,

“(10) Abbess,

your cousin ?
as school-maids change their

affection.
She it is,

him marry her !
This is the .
rangely gone from hence

nN, myself being one

‘ol action: but we do ‘ti

na very nerves of state,

re of an infinite distance.

Upon his place,
of his authority,

elo; aman, whose blood

|

one who never feels
d motions of the sense ;

nd blunt his n: itural edge

nind, study and fast.

) US and libe rty;
run by the hideous law,

ith pick’d out an act,

ense your brother’s s life
arrests him on it ;
rigour of the sti tute,

}

ample : all hope i is gone,
grace’ by your fair prayer

ind that’s my pith
ou un | your poor brother.
ek his life

Has censur’d® him

hear, the provost hath

execution.

poor ability’s in me

\ y the power you have.
Ala ' l ai dt ibt,

Our doubts are traitors,

vod we oft might win,
ro to lord Ange lo,

» know, when maidens sue,
but when they weep and kneel,

s freely t] 1eirs
ild owe? them.

| can do.
But speedily.

aes ye

,
but to ‘the mother!t®

Ih arabhy thank you:
b othe r: soon at night
n word of my success,

le ave F you,

Good sir, adieu,
[Exeunt,

—_——<>—_—.

ACT If.

WH

in Angelo’s house,

t Justice, Provost, Officers, and

t not make a scare-crow of the law

ar’! the birds of prey,
ep one shape, till custom make it
not their terror,

(11) Scare,

even so her plenteous womb
his full tilth® and hus andry.

Isab, Some one with child by him ?—My cousin
yli

 

(8) Sentenced,8 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act I.
y Ay, but yet Escal. How know you timat? bunts
vee keen, and rather cut a little, : Elb. My wile, sir, whom I detest’? before hea-
Than fall, and bruise to death: alas! this gentleman, ven and your honour, a
Whom I would save, had a most noble father. Eseal. How! thy wife? ant Sa
Let but your honour know" Elb. Ay, sir; whom, i thank heaven, is an
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, ) honest woman,— ‘ er
That, in the working of your own affections, Escal. Dost thou detest ler 1 ierefore 1 7
Had time ophenld® with place, or place withwishing,| lb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well
Or that the resolute acting of your blood as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd’s house,
Could have attain’d the effect of your own purpose, |It 1s pity of her life, for it is u naughty house. ,
Whether you had not sometime in your life Eseal, How dost thou know that, constable ?
Err’d in this point which now you censure him, Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife ; who, if she had
And pull’d the Jaw upon you. been a woman cardinally given, might have been

 

 

Ang. ’Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanli-
Another thing to fall. I not deny, _ ness there. .
‘T'he jury, passing on the prisoner’s life, Eseal, By the woman’s means 7
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two | “Ble, Ay, sir, by mistress Over-done s means:
Guilier than him they try: what’s open made to|but as she spit in his face, so she defied him.
justice, | Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.

That justice seizes. What know the laws, Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou
That thieves do pass? on thieves? Tis very preg-| honourable man, prove it. :
nant.* | Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces ?
|

 

The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, ; a _[To Angelo.
Because we see it; but what we do not sce, | Clo. Sir, she came in great with child; and long-
We tread upon, and never think of it. ling (saving your honour’s reverence) for stew’d
You may not so extenuate his offence, |prunes : sir, we had but two in the house, which at
For® I have had such faults ; but rather tell me, | that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-
When I, that censure® him, do so offend, dish, a dish of some three-pence : your honours have
Jet mine own judgment pattern out my death, seen such dishes ; they are not China dishes, but
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. | very good dishes,

Escal. Be it as your wisdom will. | Escal. Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.

Ang. Whers is the provost ? | Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are there-
Prov. Here, if it like your honour. fore in the right: but, to the point: as I say, this
ing. See that Claudio|mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and be-

Be executed by nine to-morrow morning : jing great belly’d, and longing, as I said, for prunes ;
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar’d; and having but two in the dish, as I said, master
lor that’s the utmost of his pilgrimage. [E2x. Prov. Froth here, this very man, hay ing eaten the rest, as
Escal. Well, heaven forgive him; and forgive|I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly ;
us all! ; —for, as you know, master Froth, I could not give
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall : lyou three-pence again.
Somefrun from brakes’ of vice, and answer none;| froth. No, indeed.

And some condemned for a fault alone. | Clo. Very well: you being then, if you be re-
j } 7] — Nj ny he st 3 . a eB .
z : : member’d, cracking the stones of the foresaid
Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, &c. | prunes.

Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed.
Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then, if you
be remember’d, that such a one, and such a one,

Elb, Come, bring them away: if these be good!
people in a common weal,’ that do nothing but use|
their abuses in common houses, I know no law ;|"! erat .
bring them away. | were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they

Jing, How now, sir! what’s your name? and|Kept very good diet, as I told you.
what’s the matter ? Froth. All this is true.

Elb, If it please your honour, I am the poor) ©. Why, very well then.
duke’s constable, and my name is Elbow; T do! Escal. Come, yaa are a tedious fool : to the pur
lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before|POS¢-—What was done pa Elbow’s wife, that he
your good honour two notorious benefactors. /hath cause to complain of? ‘Come me to what was

Ang. Benefactors? Well ; what benefactors are | done to her.
they? are they not malefactors ? Clo. Sir, ) our honour cannot come to that yet.

Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well} /5¢@., No, sir, nor I mean it not.
what they are: but'precise villains they are, that I) lo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your ho-
am sure of; and void of all profanation in the 20U"’S leave : and I beseech you, look into master
world, that good Christians ought to have. iF roth here, sir; aman of fourscore pound a year;

Escal. This comes off well;° here’s a wise officer. | whose father died at _Hallowmas :—Was’t not at

“ng. Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow! Hallowmas, master Froth ?
is your name? Why dost thou not speak, Elbow?| "eth. All-hollond’ eve,

Clo. He cannot, sir; he’s out at elbow. lo. W hy, very well; I hope here be truths -

Ang. What are you, sir? ihe, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower!* chair, sir ;

Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel!°-bawd: one| twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you
that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was,|*V¥e 2 delight to sit: have you not? :

2 | y ave so: because it 3
as they say, pluck’d down in the suburbs; and now) /* et. I have so; because it is an open room,

she professes! a hot-house, which, I think, is , | and good for winter.
very ill house too.

1) Examine. "} Suited. (3) Pass judgment.| (9) Well told. (10) Partly. (11) Keens ; heeni
4) Plain, 5) Because, (6) Sentence, 12) For protest, “ (13) lve OP Al Sos aes
iT Thickest, thorny paths of vice, (8) Wealth! (14) Easy, .MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 99

ad. I think no le:

Clo. Mistress Over-done,

lseal. Hath she hadany more than one husband ?

Clo, Nine, sir; Over-done by the last.

iseal. Ninc!—Come hither to me, master Froth.
Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted
with tapsters ; they will draw you, master Froth,

ul you will hang them: get you gone, and let

me hear no more of you

hank your worship: for mine own
part, I never come into any room in a taphouse,
bul f am drawn in.

Esecal, Well; no more of it, master Froth: fare-

‘
‘

be tid. |

vel, [E Froth.]—Come you hither to me,
master tapster; what’s your name, master tapster ?

Clo. Pompey.

I Wh t else?

{ um

Escal, “Yroth, and your bum is the greatest
Lain about you; oO that, in the beastlic st sense, you
re Pompey the great. Pompey, you are part ya
bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a

ter. Are you not’ eome, tcll me truc; it shall
I » De Li r 1 ryou

Clo. ‘Truly, sir, | am a poor fellow, that would
'» Ilow would you live, Pompey ? by being
bawd ? What do you think of the trade, Pom-
’ is it a lawful trade?
Clo. If the law would allow it, sir.
Eescal, But the law will not allow it, Pompey;
hall not be allowed in Vienna,
Clo. Does your wai hip mcan Lo geld and spay
il the youth in the city?
Escal. No, Pomp \.
Clo. ‘Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will
to’t then: if your worship will take order* for the
irabs and the knav » You need not to fear the

yt
Escal, There are pretty orders beginning, I can
ll you: itis but heading and hanging,
Clo. If vou head and hang all that offend that
y but fi r ttn venur towethe i. you'll be clad to
rit it 2 commission for more heads. If this law
li in Vienna ten year, Vil rent the fairest house
in it, aller three-] ence a bay: if you live to see
I | S, Say Pom pe vy told you so.
i. . 2nank Vo I. rood Pompey : and, in re-
ital of vour prophecy, hark you,—I advise you,
; YOu belo} me again upon any com-
laint whatsoever, no, not for dwelling where you
| do, } ny . | shall beat you to your tent,
| prov shrewd Ceasar to you; in plain deal-
ing, 'ompey, I shall have you whipt: so for this
ime P fure you well.
( {| thank your worship for your good coun-
|: but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune
hall better termine.
\ x

Whip me! No, no; let carman whip his jade;
Che valiant hearVs not whipt out of his trade. [Er.

E-scal. Come hither to me, master Elbow ; come
ither, master Constable. How long have you
been in this pl of constable ?

Rib, Seven years and a half, sir.

iecal. 1 thought, by your readiness in the office,
ou had continued in it some time: You say, seven

ii to th r F

Fld. And a half, sir.

Fiscal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you!
They do you wrong to put you so oft upon’t: Are
here not men in your ward sufficient to serve it ?
filo. Paith, sir, few of any wit in such matters ;

(3) Fo; cannibal, "(4) Measures,Sc MaSnGac See Aeon, eae een

  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  

100

as they are chosen, they ate glad to choose me for
them; 1 do it for some piece of money, and go
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? 1
Escal. To my house: Fare you well. [Evit
Elbow.] What’s o’clock, think you ?
Just, Eleven, sir.
Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me,
Just. I humbly thank you.
Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio ;
But there’s no remedy.
Just. Lord Angelo is severe.
Escal. It is but needful :
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so:
Pardon is still the nurse of second wo:

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

dict LI.

 

For which I must not plead, but that Iam

At war, ’twixt will, and will not.
Ane. Well; the matter?

Isab. I have a brother is condemn’d to die :
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.
Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces !
mg. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it'
Why, every fault’s condemn’d, ere it be done:
Mine were the very cypher of a function,

To find the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.
TIsab. O just, but severe law !

I had a brother then.—Heaven keep your honour !

[ Retiring.

Lucio. [To Isab.] Give’t not o’er so: to him
again, entreat him ;

 

But yet,—Poor Claudio !—There’s no remedy.
Come, sir.

SCENE II.—Another room in the same. Enter

Provost and a Servant.

[Exeunt. |

Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
'Youare too cold: if you should need a pin,

'You could not with more tame a tongue desire it :
To him, I say.

Isab. Must he needs die?

 

Serv. He’s hearing of a cause; he will come!

straight.
Ill tell him of you.

Prov. Pray you, do. [Ezit Servant.] T’ll know
His pleasure; may be, he will relent: Alas,

He hath but as offended in a dream!
All sects, all ages, smack of this vice ; and he
To die for it!
Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what’s the matter, provost ?

Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow ?

“ing. Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not

order ?
Why dost thou ask again ?

Prov. Lest I might be too rash:
Under your good correction, I have seen,

When, after execution, judgment hath

Repented o’er his doom.
ing.

Do you your office, or give up your place,

And you shall well be spar’d.

Prov.
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Julict
She’s very near her hour,

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.

Ang. Hath he a sister ?

Prov. Ay, my good lord ; a very virtuous maid,
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,

If not already.

Ang. Well, let her be admitted.
See you the fornicatress be remov’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.—[7'o [sab.] You ar

welcome: What’s your will?

Isab. 1 am a woful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.

Ang. Well; what’s your suit

Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice ;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;

(1) Pity,

{ Ex. Serv

(2) Be assured,

Go to; let that be mine;

I crave your honour’s pardon.—

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.
| Jsab. Yes; I dothink that you might pardon him,
|And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.
Ing. I will not do’t.
| Jsab, Sut can you, if you would ?
j
| dng. Look, what I will not, that I eannot do.
Isab. But might you do’t, and do the world no
wrong,
‘If so your heart were touch’d with that remorse?
\s mine is to him ?
“Ing. He’s sentenc’d; ’tis too late.
Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella.
Isab. Toolate? why, no; I, that do speak a word,
May call it back again: Well believe? this,
No ceremony that to great ones ’longs,
Not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’s robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. Ifhe had been as you,
nd you as he, you would have slipt like him ;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern,
Ing. Pray you, begone.
| Jsab. 1 would to heaven I had your poteney,
|} And you were Isabel! should it then be thus ?
q No; I would tell what ’twere to be a judge,
| And what a prisoner.
Lucio. Ay, touch him: there’s the vein. [Aside
~ing. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words,
| Isab. Alas! alas!
| Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once :
'And He that might the vantage best have took,
{Found out the remedy: How would you be,
\If He, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you as you are? QO, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
‘|Like man new made.
| Ang. Be you content, fair maid:
‘It is the law, not I, condemns your brother :
| Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should be thus with him ;—He must die to-mor-
row.
e| Jsab. To-morrow ? O, that’s sudden! Spare him,
spare him:
| He’s not prepar’d for death! Even for our kitchens
. We kill the fowl of season ;° shall we serve heaven
?} With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink
you:
Who is-it that hath died for this offence ?

j
i
j

|
|
|

 

(3) When in season,Scene III.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE,

  
  
   
   
 
 

101

There’s many have committed it. L ucio. Range had marr’d all else.
ucio, Ay, well said.| Jsab, Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
“ing.. The law hath not been dead, though it Or stone 8, whose rates are either rich or poor,

hath slept:
Those m: any had not dar’d to do that evil,
If the first man that did the edict infring

Had answer’d for his deed: now, ’tis eats
Takes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiy 'd,
Aud so in prog ress to be hatch’d and born,)
Are now to have no siccessive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.
Isab. Yet show some pity.
“ing. I show it most of all, when I show justice
For then | pity those I do not know :
Which a dismiss’d offence would alter call -
And do him right, that, answering one fou! wren:
Lives not to act anothe r. Be satisfied:
Your brother dies to-morrow: be conten
Isab. So you must be the first, that cives t!
St nte nee
And he, that suffers: O, it is excellent
To have a giant’s strength: but it is ty: 1s
To use it like a giant.
Lucio, That’s well said.
Isab. Could great men thund
As Jove himself doe , J OV ild ne’er b uiet,
For every pelting' petty oflicer,
Would use his heaven for thund r; nothing bh
hunder,——
Merciful heaven !
Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulp! sit
Split’st the unwedgeable and li oak
Than the soft myrtle :—0O, but n, pi man !
Drest in a ns tle brief auth
Most i 8 norant of what he’s most ass d,
His glassy essence,—like an anery ape,
P| vs such fantastic tricks bef ven,
As make the angels wi p: who, with our
Would all themselves laue
Lucto. e.7 » him, Lo hi 1 Welk h: hy will I nt
He's coming, l perceive t,
Pror. Pray heaven, she w n
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with o (
Great men may jest with saints: ‘tis witi n
But, in le 77 foul protanauon.
Lucio. Thou art in the richt, gir]: more o’ if
Isab, That in the captain’s but a choleric d,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio Art advis’d o’ that? more on’t
ing. Why do you put these saving nme?
Isah. Because authority, though iterr like of rs

Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That skims the viee o’ the top: Go

Lo yvour

}

DOSOM ;

Knockthere: and ask your heart, what it doth know
That’s like my brother’s fault: if it confess
A natural cuiltiness, such as is his,
Let it not aiawred’ i thoucht upon your toncrus
Against my brother’s life.

ing. She speaks, and ’tis
Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. ——Fare

you we ll.
Tsab, Gentle my lord,
ne. lL will bethink me:—C«

turn back.

init

Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe
turn back.
ing. How! bribe me?
Isab, Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share

with you.

tk Paltry. (2) Knotted. (3) /

again to-morrow.

you: Ss00d my lord,

Attested, stamped.

4) Preserved from the corruption of the world.

‘Hath blister’d her report:
/And he that

|As fancy Vv

| He) oC

' To | cl ime se
'The nature of their crimes, that I may minister

values them; but with true prayers
That shall be up in heaven, and enter there,
Ere sun-rise ; prayers from preserved‘ souls,
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing te mporal.,
Ing.
Te “Inorrow,
Lucio, Goto; itis well; away. [Aside to Isab.
Heaven keep your honour safe!
Amen: for I
[ Aside.

Well; come to me

Am that wav

Where prayer

going to temptation,
+ Cros:

At what hour to-morrow
ttend your lordship ?
“Ing. At any time ’fore noon.

[sab. Save your honour! [ Exe. Lue. Isa. and Pro.
Ing. ‘rom thee; even from thy virtue !—
What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine?
Che tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha!

: _ 1
Not she ; nor doth she

tempt: but itis I,
That lyin by Lhe

violet, in the sun,

Do, as the rrion does, not as the flower,

Corrupt with virtuous season, Can it be,

That modesty may more betray our sense

Than woman’s lightness? Having waste ground
{ ul hy

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there ?* O, fie, fie, fie!

W} ost thou? or what art thou, Angelo?

Dost ‘thou desire her foully, for those things

Chat make her good? O, let her brother live:

; : occ’
sfor theirrobbery have

il themselves.

authority,
What? do I love her,

hat | desire to hear her speak again,

And { n her eyes? What is’t I dream on?

© cunning enemy, that, to eat ca a saint,

With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous

Is that ten pl tion, that d doth vO md us on

l‘o sin in loving virtue never could the strumpet,

With all her double vieour, art and nature,

Once stir my temper ; ¥ t this virtuous ms Lid

Subdues 1 - quite -—_- ver, till now,

When men were fond, I smil’d, and wonder’d how.
{| Exit,

SCENE II1.—A room in a prison. Enter Duke,

habited like a Friar, and Provost.

Duke. Hail to you, provost ; so, I think you are.

Prov. 1 am the provost: W he at’s your will , good
friar ?

Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless’d
orde Tr.

I come to visit the afflicted spirits
in the prison : do me the common right
e them; and to make me know

To them accordingly.
Prov. | would do more than that, if more were
a
needful.

Enter Juliet.

Look, here comes one; a gentlew oman of mine,
Who falling in the flames of her own youth
She is with child ;

a young man
such offence,

got it, sentenc’d:
| More fit to do another

| Than die for this,

i

Duke. When must he die ?

(5) See 2 Kings, x. 27.

Sr hoe gp ner eceigag102

ucted.
air one, of the sin youc
t patiently.

And you shall be cond

Duke. Repent you, !
Juliet. Ido; and ear the shame mos

Duke. Vil teach you how you shall arraign your
conscience,
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or atlas put on.
Juliet.
Duke. Love you the man that wrong
Juliet. Yes, as Llov’d the woman that wrong’d
him.

|
|
|

Pll gladly learn.
"you? !

|

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 ;
Andin my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception; The state, whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear’d and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot,? 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:
J.et’s write good angel on the devil’s horn,
Tis not the devil’s crest.

Enter Servant.

How now, who’s there ?

Serv. One Isabel, a sister,
Desires access to you.
/Ing. Teach her the way. [Ex. Serv.

O heavens!

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart ;
Making both it unable for itself,

And dispossessing all the other parts

Of necessary fitness ?

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air

By which he should revive: and even so

Spare to offend heaven. —_ (2) Profit.
(3) Outside. (4) People,

 

   
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
    
  
  
   
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
   

MEASURE FOR MEASUR

How now, fair maid ?

i

  

Acé IT.

¥.

hus

 

i a Me end caked ‘ll-wish'd King

M Prov. As 1 do think, to-morrow. | Be ns ral, pace a eh ie a ne, .

j : ; is: 5 . 7 . sy . ee c 5c ( ‘ ( at
I have provided for you; stayawhile. [To Juliet. Quit their own part, and Jn obs 1u0us

H Crowd to his presence, where their untaugat love

oucarry ?|Must-needs appear ofience.

Enter Isabella.

1!

pleas

Isah. I ain come to know your urc.
Ang. That you might know it, would much
bettcr please me,

Hes Soe heather a ne
I ' tis. Your brother cannot live.

Than to demand what
Isab. Even so?—Heayen keep your honour!
[elirine.

Duke. So then, 1t seems, your most offenceful act a ” .#
Was mutually committed ? Ang. Yet may he live a while; anc, iL may be,
Juliet. Mutually. As long as you, or is. yet he must auc
ne Duke. Thenwas your sinof heavier kind than his.| Jsab. Under your sentence :
i Julict. 1 do confess it, and repent it, father. ‘ing. Yea, | Lod
| Duke. ’Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do [sab. WW hen, b OGECCCR Os brat in > repricve,
it repent, Lon rer, OF short r, he may be so fitted,
‘. As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,— | 1 nal his s¢ u sicken NOt. , ;
a Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not) +75 Ma! Pie, these filthy viec s' Tt were as good
heaven ; : To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
Showing, we'd not sparc! heaven, as we leve it, \ man already made, as to remit ee
. But as we stand in fear,— J heir saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven’s image,
Julict. I do repent me, as it is an evil ; in stamps that are forbid: *ts all as easy
And take the shame with joy. Falscly to take away a ile (rue made,
Duke. ~~ There rest. As te put me ttle in restrained means,
Your partner, as J hear, must die to-morrow, lo inal c a ke Ise one a :
i And I am going with instruction to him.— fsab, *% i don nso in heaven, but not in earth.
ui Grace go with you! Benedicite! [ Eaxvil. Anz. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly,
Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love,|\* ch h d you rather, That the most just law |
That respites me a life, whose very comfort Now took your brother’ life ; or, to redeem him,
Is still a dying horror! Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
Prov. Tis pity ofhim. [Exreunt. As she that he hath stain et :
; Isah, Sir, believe this,
SCENE IV.—1 room in Angelo’s house. Enter|! had rather sive my body than my soul.
Angelo. | Ane. I talk not of your soul: Our compell’d sins
= Stand more for number than accompt.
Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and) Jsab. How say you?

Ang. Nay, Vl not warrant that; for I can speak
Acainst the thing I say. Answer to this ;—
I, now the voice of the recorded law,
|Pronounce a sentence on your brother’s life :
Might there not be ity In sin,
To save this

Isab. Please you to do’t.
Pll take it as a peril to my soul,
[tis no sin at all, but charity.
| Ang. Pleas’d you to do’t, at peril of your soul,
‘Were equal poize of sin and charity.
| Jsab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
|Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit,
If that be sin, Pll make it my morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine, ©
| And nothing of answer.

ne. Nay, but hear me:
|Your sense pursues not mine: citheryouareignorant,

and that’s not wood.

'

a chart

Lob 1.
ner Lic

NO
|

ae)

your,

‘
\

\Or secm s0, ci aftily :

| Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
|But graciously to know [ am no better.

“ing. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bricht,
When it doth tax itself: as these black masks
‘Proclaim an enshield® beauty ten times louder
‘Than beauty could displayed.—But mark me ;
To be receiy’d plain, Pll speak more gross
Your brother ts to die.

Tsab. So.
| ne. And his offence is so, as it appears
|Accountant to the law upon that paim.®

Isab. True.
“Ing. Admit no other way to save his life

(5) Enshielded, covered, (6) Penalty,MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 103

“of que iestion,?) that you,
Pi inding yours well desir’d of s

; all-bindin ne a .

‘I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for’t:
Sign me a present p< irdon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch’d throat, I’ll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art,

Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel ?
My unsoil’d n: ime, the austereness of my life,
My youch® against you, and my place i’ the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
‘hat you shall stifle in your own report,
{nd smell of calumny.” I have begun ;
\nd now I give my sensual race the rein

lit thy consent to my sharp appetite ;
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious® blushes,
Ph th inish what they sue for; redeem thy brother

By 7 ding up thy body to i ‘will ;
’r else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
lil prove a tyrant to him: As for you,
Say what you can, my false o’erwei: chs your true.
[ Exit.
seb. To whom shall I compiain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,

hat bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
bil of condemnation or approof !

Bidding the law make court'sy to their will ;
Liooking both rieht and wrong to the appetite,
lo follow as it draws! Ill to my brother :
Chough he h th fallen by prom] pture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him su 1a mind ¢ if honour,

| it had he twenty aaah vy segeehic Nome

i}

n twenty bloody blocks, he’d yield them up,

Bel is sister should her body stoop

Lo such abhorr’d pollution. ,

“hen Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die :
‘Lore than our brother is our chastity.

L*ii tell hin n yet of Angelo’s re quest,
it his mind to death, for his soul’s rest. [Evit,

—
Cl as

SCENE IL— 4 room in the prison. Enter Duke
Claudio, and Provost,

Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord
An { lo f

Claud, The miserable have no other medicine,
hut only hop
[ have hone to live. and am ae to die.

. Beabsolute!® forde ath; itherde rath, orlife
Shall thereby be the sweeter. ‘Reinda thus with
life,—

If I do lose t] ee, I do lose a thing

That none but fools would kee ‘~p: a breath thou art
servile to all the skiey influences, )

ihat dost this habitation, where the ou keep’st,
lHiourly afflict: merely, thou art death’s fool : :
tor him thou labour’st by thy flight to shun,

\nd vetrun’st toward him still: Thou art not noble ;
For all the accommodations that thou bear’st,
\re nurs’d by baseness: Thou art by no means

valiant

lor thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Ofapoor worm: Thy best of rest is sleep,

And that thou oft provok’st; yet grossly fear’st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
lor thou exist’st on many a thousand grains
issue out of dust: Happy thou art not:

That

(7) Hypocrisy. (8) Attestation. (9) Reluctant,
(10) Determined,

   
    
   
 
 
   
    
    
     
   
   
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
    
  
  
 
 
     
    
  
 
    
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
    
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
 

ont laminas

iad Te aa

104

For what thou hast not, still thou striv’st to get ;
‘And what thou hast, forget’st ; Thou art not certain ;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, }
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none ;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo,? and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner :
nor age ;

But, as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep,
Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg thee alms
OF palsied eld ;* and when thou art old, and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.

Claud. 1 humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die ;
And, seeking death, find life: Let it come on.

Enter Isabella.

Isab, What, ho! Peace here; grace and rood
company !

Prov. Who’s there? come in: the wish deserves | 7

a welcome.
Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.

Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio.

Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here’s
your sister.

Duke. Provost, a word with you.

Prov. As many as you please. |
Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be
conceal’d,
Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. |
Claud. Now, sister, what’s the comfort ?

Isab. Why, as all comforts are ;
deed ;

Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger :*
Therefore your best appointinent® make with sj
To-morrow you set on.

Claud.

Is there no remedy ?

Isab. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head,

To cleave a heart in twain.
Claud. But is there any
Isab. Yes, brother, you may live ; ;
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death. ‘
Claud.
Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance ; a restraint,
Though all the world’s vastidity® you had,
To a determin’d scope. vw
‘Claud, But in what nature ?
Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to’t)
Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear
And leave you naked.
Claud, Let me know the point.
Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake
Lest thou a feverous life should’st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respt ct
Than a perpetual honour. Dar’st thou die?

;

Perpetual durance !

1) Affects, affections. (2) Leprous eruptions.
$) Oldage. (4) Resident. (5) Preparation
6) Vastness ofextent. (7) Shut up.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

Thou hast nor youth, |

most good in-|

sy ed ft

Act II,

 

The sense of death is most in apprehension ;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.
Claud. Why give you me this shame ?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
irom flowet y tenderness If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.
Isab. There spake my brother ; there my father’s

 

PTAVE

Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die :
!'Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. ‘This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
| Nips youth i’the head, and follies doth enmew,’
'As falcon doth the fowl,—is yet a devil ;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
|A pond as deep as hell.

Claud. The princely Angelo?

Isub. O, tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned’st body to invest and cover
In prince ly ruards i? Dost thou think, Claudio,
If { would yield him my virginity,
Thou michtest be freed ? :
| Claud. O, heavens! it cannot be,

Isah. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank
ofience,
So to offend him still: This night’s the time

[hat I shoulddo what I abhor to name,

Or else thou diest to-morrow,
Claud. Thou shalt not do’t.
Tsah. O, were it but my life,

I’d throw it down for your deliverance

As frankly® as a pin.

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.
Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow,
es + “ae 8
Claud. Yes.—Has he affections In him,
[hat thus can make him bite the law by the nose,

+ 9

When he would force if

Sure it is no sin:
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.

’

| Jsab. Which is the least ?

Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise

| Why, would he for the momentary trick, :
Be pe rdural ly 10 fined ?—O, Isabel !
| Jsab. What says my brother!

Claud. Death is a fearful thing
Isab. And shamed life a hateful. re
| Claud. \y, but to do die, and go we know not

where ;
lo lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
|'This sensible warm motion to become
\ kneaded cold; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside

In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice :
|‘T'o be imprison’d in the viewless!! winds,

And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling !—’tis too horrible !

The wearied and most loathed worldly life,

anl ; :

That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment

Can Jay on nature, is a paradise
>/To what we fear of death.
Isab. Alas! alas!
Urol ; ‘eC i F j
Claud. Sweet sister, let me live;

What sin you do to save a brother’s life

j

|

| Nature dispenses with the deed so far
% » = ,
| [hat it becomes a virtue.

/
Isab. O, you beast!

(9) Freely.

(8) Laced robes,
]

(11) Invisible. (10) Lastungly,Scene I.

QO, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch !

Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice ? m

Is’t not a kind of incest, to take life
From thine own sister’s shame? What should |]
think ?

Heaven shield, my mother play’d my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wild

Ne’er issu’d from his bloo lake |
Die ; pe rish ! might but my bendin lown
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should p

I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy d

: i
:

No word to s ive thee.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. Spi!

Isab. Q, fie, fie, fle!
Thy sin’s not aceidental, but a trad
Mercy to thee would prove it if a wad |
’Tis best thou diest quickly. f

Claud. O h

R -entler Duk ‘
Duke. Vouchsafe a word, youn ister. but
word.
Isab. Wha is your wi
Duke. Might you dispen with oii wn. .]
would by and by have so: wit

satisfaction | would requi
benefit.
Isab. [have no superfluous leisure: } !
be stolen out of other affairs; but |
a while,
Duke. [To Claud Ss I -

heard what hath pass
ter. Angelo had nev
only he hath made an essay o!
his judgment
having the truth of |

with the di at s en
that gracious denial which | ‘ey

ceive ; Lam confessor to Angelo, and |

be true: therefore prepar yourse|i tod
satisfy your resolution wil
to-morrow you must dic: oO VO

make ready.
Cla : Let rie le tr’ erat ’ } n. |
out of love with lif th

Duke. Hold* you tl : farewell. Ex. (
Re - f r | \

Provost,

Prov. What's your will, fat!

1 word with you.

Duke. That now you are come, you will |
leave me a while with the maid:
with my habit, no loss shall touch h ry
pany.

Prov. In good time. [Frit Prov

Duke. The hand that hath mak if
made you good: the goodness, that is « » in
beauty, makes beauty brief in din
being the soul of your complexion, uld | pt
body of it ever fair. The assault, that An lo
made to you, fortun th convey’d to my under-
standing; and, but that frailty hath examples {
his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would
you do to content this substitut: nd to sav
brother ?

Jsab. I am now going to resolv n: |
rather my brother die by the law, t 1 my
should be unlawfully born. But O, how much!
the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ey e re-

turn, and I ean speak to him, I wil
in vain, or discover his government.

(1) Wildness. (2) Refusal.
(3) An established habit.
(4) Continue in that resolution. |

MEASURE FOR MEASURE,

    
   
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
     
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   

105

Duke. That shall not be much amiss: yet, as the
‘now stands, he will avoid your accusation ;
| .—Therefore, fasten your
my advisings; to the love I have in doing =
I do make myself if
t uprighteously do a poor
L jad nerited | t: redeem your bro-

‘trial of vou only
! < . 4
, aremedy presents itself,

i} De
do no stain to your own
nd much ple ise the absent duke,

iture, he shall ever return to have hear-
| 4
isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have
lo any thing that appears not foul in the
1 my rit.
Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearfu..
' |

ik of Mariana, the sister of

; t soldier, who miscarried at sea?
/ . | have lieard of the lady, and good words
b) LY hould this Aneelo have married: was

I 1 th nuptial appointed :

ontract, and limit of the i

| ick was wrecked at

ish’d vessel the dowry of his

ily this befel to the poor

lost a noble and renowned

| her ever most kind and

ion and sinew of her for-

“G0 y: with both, her combi-

P Angelo,

‘ Did Angelo so leave her?

id dry’d not one of

lowed his vows whole,

ies of dishonour : in few,

lamentation, which she
nd he, a marble to her
m, but relents not.

in death, to take this
ld! What corruption in this

his man live'—But how out of
| | t you may easily heal :
s your brother, but
} 5 I af ner. y
i i maid hath yet in her the {
rst ion; his unjust un- '
uuld have quenched
1 it iment in the current, 1
, i uly (;0 you to An- |
with a plausible obedi-
mands to the point: only
ly e,—first, that your
iy nol be long: that the time may
ce inl and the place
i i ce this being granted in
We shall advise this
| maid to stead up your appointment, go in
encounter acknowledge itself
I COl | him to her recompense ;
‘ your brother saved, your ho-

r untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and
upt deput led.* The maid will I frame,

(it for his attempt. If you think well to '

i may, the doubleness of the benefit
dec mreproof. What think you
Isab. The image of it gives me content already ;
lft vill grow to @ most prosperous per-
Duke. It lies much in your holding up: haste

ied. (6) Gave her up to her sorrows
: recourse to. (8) Over-reached, |
OU }Ot is

—
ee

ken ee ee spiamne

ja

TS

 

 

   
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
   
          
    
  
 
  
    
   
  
   
  
 
    
   
 
 
   
       
   
  
   
   
 
 
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
     
    
   
     
      
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
    
   
    
  
 
 
    
   
 

   

106 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act U1.
you speedily to Angelo ; if for this night he entreat| Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress ?
you to his bed, § give him promise of satisfaction. I|Procures she still ? Ha?
will presently to St. Luke’s; there, at the moated} Clo. Troth, sir, she hath ci aten up all her beef,
grange,! resides this dejec ted Mariana; at that/and she is herself i in the tub. eat
place call upon me; and despatch with Angclo,| Lucio. Why, ’tis good; it 1s the right of it; it
that it may be quickly, imust be so: ever your fre sh whore, and your pow-

Isab. I thank you for this comfort : fare you well, |der’d bawd: an unshunn’d consequence ; it must
good father. [Exeunt severally. |beso: art going to prison, Pompey ?

Clo. Yes, faith, sir.

SCENE II.—The eo before the prison. Enter| Lucio, W hy, ? tts not amiss, Pompey: farewell:

Duke, as a friar; to him Elbow, Clown, and|go; say, I sent thee thither. For deht, Pompey ?
Oflicers. Or how?
| 2b. For being a bawd, for being a Wawd.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that) Focio, Well, then imprison him: if imprison-
you will needs buy and scil men and women like}ment be the due of a bawd, why, ’tis his right;
beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too ; bawd-
white bastard.? ao born. Farewell, good Pompey: commend me to

Duke, O, heavens! what stuff is here? k ihe prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband

Clo. ’Twas never merry world, Here Ot LWOlnow, Pompey : you will keep the house.®

I

usuries, the merricst was put down, andthe werser| (Cf. | hope. sir. vot

r good worship will be my

ss é : ) ’
allow'd by order of law a furr’d gown to keep|paj.
: ee weet Tninhchtnc ct ee en : a
him warm; and furr’d with fox and lamb-skit Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not
too, to signify, that eraft, being richer than inno-|{he wear.” 1 will pray, Pompey, to increase your
ce ney, stands for the facing. ad oe tl yndage: if you teke it not patiently, why, your
Elo. Come your way, sir:—Bless you, good fa-| metile is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.—Bless

ther friar. you, friar.
Duke. And you, good brother father: What!" Qju-¢. And you.

ai a4 h this m a y de you, sir? [ucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?
40 LIry, s} le ith offen ied the iaAw: ane Bly) }

Ome your Wey: ,» ois Come,

sir, we take him to be : . thief too, sir; fur we have] (Clo, You will not bail me then, sir ?
found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock,? which} Jucio. The 1, Pompey? nor now.—What news
we have sent to the deputy. broad, friar? what news ?
Ditke. Fie, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd! Hib, Come your ways, sir; come.
The evil that thou causest to b os ee Lucio. Go,—to kennel, Pompey, go:
That is thy means to live: do th i but think r Wortanid Wi ilsetn ai i ate ee
What ’tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back, Levent Elbow, Ciown, ane Officers,
From such a filthy vice: say to thys i — What news, friar, of the duke?
From their abominable and be astiy touches Duke. I know none ean you tell me of any ?
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live | Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of Rus-
Canst thou be lieve thy living risa life, sin; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he
So stinkingly depe nding yr? Go, mend, £0, 1 mena. think you ? ,
Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort »Sir; but] Duke. ow not where: but wheresoever, I

yet, sir, I w ould prove——

14
wish him w oll.
Duke. iNay, i if

if the devil have given thee proofs| Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to

= for sin, , |steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was
rhou wilt prove his, Take him to prison, officer;|never born to. Lord At igelo dukes it well in his
Correction and instruction must both work, }absence ; he puts transeression to’t.

Ere this rude beast will profit. rm He does well in’t.

Elb. He must ators t the deputy, sir; he has] Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do
given him warning: the deputy cannot abide aro harm in him: something too crabbed that way
whoremaster: if he be a whoremoncer, and comes| friar, ’ rs
before him, he were as good goa mile on hiserrand.| Duke. It is too ceneral a vice

Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, | cure it,

Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free!| Lucio. ¥e s, in good sooth, the vice is of a ereat
[kindred ; it is well ally’ a: at it is impossible to

/extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinkine be put
,acord,‘sir,|down. They say, this Atare lo was not made bY

Clo. Ispy comfort ; I ery, bail: bee *s a gentle- | man 7 woman, after the downright w ay of cre:
man, and a friend of mine. : ion: isit true, think you?

Tudo. How now, noble Pompe ? Wh Ua aft the| Pike: How ‘should } ie be mi 1d: e the n ?
heels of Cesar ? Art thou led in triumph ? What, Lucis., Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him :-
is there none of Pygmalion’s images, newly made|5ome, th at he was begot between two stoc k-fishes : :
woman, to be had now , for putting the hand in the but it is certain, that when he makes water, his
vocket, and extracting it cluteh’d? What reply ?/Urine Is congeal’d ice ; that I know to be true: and
Ha? W hat say’st thou to thin. tune, matter, and he is a motion® ungenerative, that’s infi allible.
method? Is’t not drown’d i the last rain? Ha?| uke. You are pleasant, sir: and speak apace,
What say’st thou, trot? cs the world as it was. | Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in
man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few|him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take aw: ay
words? Or how? The trick of it? ithe life ofa man? Would th e duke, ‘th: it is abse nt,

Duke, Still thus, and thus! still worse! |have done this ? ? Ere he would have hs ined a man

for the getting a hundred bastar ‘ds, he would have

, and severity must

Enter Lucio.
Elb, His neck will come to your wais

]
i
t
A

(1) A solitary farm-house. (2) A sweet wine.
ts For a Spanish padlock. (5

Powdering tub, 6) Stay at}
4) Tied like your waist with a rope, ( ion, \P -_

(
Fashion, (8) Puppet,

)
)Scene Il.

vaid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feel-|
ing of the sport; he a w the service, and that in-
structed him to mercy.

Duk: e l never he urd the obsent duke much ce -
tected' for women ; he was not inclined that way.
Lucio, O, sir, you are deceived, :

Dieke. ?Tis not possible.
Lucio. Who? n yt the duke ? yes, your beegar of
fifty ;—and his use was, to

} j i
yuta ducat in her clack-

}

dish: the duke had crotchets in him: he would be
drunk too: that let me inform you.

D i { ido him Wt ne, su ly

Jaieto. Sir, | was an inward of hi i shy fellow
was the duke : and, I believe, I know the cause oi

his withdrawin
r ” , ® t 4?
Duke. What, I pr’ythee, might | ne cause ?

Lucio. No,—pardon;—tis a eret must b
lock’d within the teeth and the lips; but this Ie
let you understand,—The greater file? of the sub-
ject held the duke to be wise.

Duke. Wise? why, no tion but he was

Lucio. A very suverficlal, ign ;
fellow. ,

Duke. Either this is cnvy in you ir Imis-
ae the very of his |i the Du
he hath helmed,* must, u n v ' ] I
civ as a het proclan n. Let
testimonied in his own br! nos |
ny ir to the envio ley .

a soldier: therefo on s iy: or, il
your know! lve be mrore, it is much darken’d i
your mali

Lucio. Sir. I know him, and I love him.

Duke. Love talks with better knowledae, an

knowlede with de arer | ve.
Lucio. Come, sir, | know what I know.
Dule. can bas ily believe that, since you know

,
not what you speak. But, if ever the duke returt
(as our prayers are he may,) let me desire vout
make your answer before him: Wit be honest you

have spoke, you have courage to m infain it: Lan
bound to call upon you; and, | pray you, y
name ?

Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio; wetl known to
the duke.

Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may
live to report you.

Lucio. I fear you not.

Duke. -O, you hope the duke will return no morc;
or You imagine me too unhurtful an opposite.* But,
indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswea
this acain.

Lucio. Vil be hang’d-first: thou art deceived in
me, friar. But no morc of this: can’st thou tell, i
Claudio die to-morrow, or no?

Duke. Why should he die, sir ?

Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle w ith a tun-dish.
I would, the duke, we talk of, were return 4 ug in
this ungenitur’d agent will unpeople the provi

vith contine ney ; oo Hie must not b uild in his
house-caves, because | hey are lecherous. The duke
vel would have dark ale darkly answer! d: ne

would never bring them to light: would he wer
return’d! Marry, this Cl udio is condemned for
untrussing. F arewe li, ood friar ; I pr’ythee, pra:
forme. The duke, I sav to thee again, would ea
mutton® on Fridays. He’s now past it; yet, and I
say to thec, he would mouth with a beggar, though
she smelt brown bread and garlic : say, that I said
so. Farewell. [ Exit.

(1) Suspected. (2) The majority of his subjects
(3‘ Inconsiderate. (4) Guided, ‘/5\ Opponent. |!

   

107

Duke. Ne o mig rht nor greatness in mortality
Can censure ’scape ; bac k-wounding calumny
lhe whitest virtue strikes: What hing so strong,
Can tie the gall up i in the slanderous tongue ?
But who comes here }

Enter Esealus, Provost, Bawd, end Officers.

Escal. Go, away with her to prison.
Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me; your ho-
nour is accounted a merciful man: good my lord.
Fscal, Double and treble admonition, and still
forfeit’ in the same kind? ‘This would make mercy
vcar, nd | lay the tyrant.
Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may

y lord, this is one Lucio’s information
me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with

child by hum in the duke *s time, he promised her
- hi one is a year and a quarter old
Phiip and J: : Thave kept it myself; and
rce how ne wg s about to ubuse me.
E-sce!. That fcllow is a fellow of much license:

—let him be called before us.—Away with her to
rison: Goto; no more words. [Exeunt Bawd and
Ojfficers.} Provost, my brother Angelo will not be
ter’d, Claudio must die to-morrow; let him be

shed with civines, and have all charitable pre-
tion: if my brother wrought by my she, it
| t | oO hum
So] c you, this friar hath been with him,
nl advised him for the entertainment of death.
be . Good even, good father.

'

Dut ‘ sliss and 7OoO niness on you!

Escal. Of whence are vou?

Duke. Not of this country, though my chance is
now

To use it for my time: I ama brother

Of cracious ord r, late come from the see,

in special business from his holiness.

val. What news abroad? the world ?

Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever

n goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it;

velty is only in request: and it is as dangerous to
be constant in any kind of course, as it is virtuous

» be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce
ive, to make societies secure ; but

ecurity enough, to make fellowships accurs’d:
much upon this riddle: uns the wisdom of the world,
This news is old enouch, yet it is every day’s news.
[ pray von, sir, of what disposition was the duke ?

Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, contend-
ed especially to know himself,

Duke. What pleasure was he given to?

Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry,
than merry at any thing which profess’d to make
him rejoice ; a gentlema in of all te mperance. But
leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may
prove prospt rous - and let me desire to know how
vou find Claudio prepared. I am made to under
stand, that you have lent him visitation.

Duke. He professes to have reccived no sinister
veasures from his judge, but most willingly hum-
les himself +o the determination of justice: yet
had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his

(rai Ity, many dece iving promises of life; which I,
by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and
now 1s he resolved to die.

Escal. You have paid the heavens your function
and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. {
have labour’d for the poor gentleman, to the ex:

es

(7) Transgress,

(6) Have a wench,
(8) Satisfied,

  
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
    
  
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
    
 
   
 
  
 
   
     
   
  
  
    
  
   
    

etm cht aoeMEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

    

108

tremest shore of my modesty; but my brother jus-|is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance
tice have I found so severe, that he hath forced mela little : may be, I will call upon you anon, for

to tell him, he is inde ed—justic e. some adv: antage to yourself, ;
Duke. If his own life answers the straitness Mari. I am always bound to you. [ Exit.
his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein, Duke. Very well met, and welcome.
if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself, | What is the news from this good deputy ?
Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner: Fare| sab. He hath a garden cireummur’d? with brick,
you well. | Whose western side is with a vineyard back’d ;
Duke. Peace be with you! |And to that foe yard is a planched* gate,
[Exew it Esealus and Provost. |'That makes his opening with this bigger key:
He, who the sword of heaven wil! bear, |This other doth command a little door,
Should be as holy as severe ; |W hich from the vineyard to the garden leads ;
Pattern in himself to know, , | There have I made my promise to call on him,
Grace to stand, and virtue gx 5 | Upon the heavy middle of the night.
More nor less to others payin | Duke. But shall you on your knowledge find
Than by self-offences weighing. this way ?

Shame to him, whose cruel striking Isab. 1 have ta’en a due and wary note upon’t ;
Kills for faults of his own liking ! | With whispe ring and most guilty diligence,
Twice treble shame on Angelo, [In action ail of precept, he did show me

|
. }ryy , es lar
To weed my vice, and let his grow! | Phe way twice o’er.
|

O, what may man within him _ os Duke. Are there no other tokens
Though angel on the outward side ! | Between you ’greed, concerning her obse rvance ?
How may likeness,! made? in cri ice, | _ Jsab. No, none, but only a repair i?’ the dark ;
Making practice on the t times \nd that I have possess’d* him, my most st ay
Draw with idle spide rs’ eesdi Can DS but brief: for I have made him know,
Most pond’rous and substanti: ul things ! I hi rvant comes with me along,
Craft against vice I must ap] ply ‘ ‘hat slays® upon me; whose persuasion is,
With Anze lo to- night sh; a: ne Ie ome about my biotiae:
His old betrothed, but despis a | Duke, ’Tis well borne up.
So disguise sh: ll, by the dis: gus go I have not ye t made known to Mariana
Pay with false ‘hood false ex: acting, A word of this:—What, ho! within! come forth!
nd perform an old contracting. Exit.
And | _ Re-enter Mariana.
—<-— I pray you, be acquainted with this maid ;
t
She comes to do you § rood.
STN , Isab. I do desire the like.
{
Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect
SCENE I.—A room in Mariana’s house. Mari- you!
ana discovered silling ; a Boy singing. Mari. Good friar, I know you do; and have
ONG found it.
Duke. Take then this your companion by the
Take, oh take those is away, hand
“i That 80 Swe > peg for SWOT ; Who hath a story ready for vour ear:
7 poo fa of day, iI shall attend your leisure; but make haste ;
igh s that do mislead the mor Nn; Che vy: 1porous night approaches
But my kisses bring again, has | Vari Will’t please you walk aside ?
TINS arain, ' a
Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, [Exreunt Mariana and Isabella.
seald in vain. | Duke. O place and greatness, millions of false
Mari. sreak off thy song, and haste thee quick},  , €Yes ;
away ; | Are stuck upon thee! volumes of report
4 2 si il ’ +} ihren f: ep ) wm > v
Here comes a mi in of comfort, whose advice oe o n or , alse and tt, a arious quests
Hath often still’d my brawling discontent.— | pon thy doings! thous a ee of wit
’ [Exit Boy | Make thee the father of their idle dream
al DOY, 1 ; . a oe ’
Enter Duke. "| And rack thee in their fancies !—Welcome! How
I cry you mercy, sir ; and | well could wish

You had nol found n 1e here so musical:

Let me excuse me, and bel lieve me so,—

| arreed ?
Re-enter Mariana and Isabella.
i

. J}, S} ; i kk t] se
My mirth it much ‘disp leas d, bit pli as’d my wo. te Isab, 1e oe ake the enterpr is upon her, father,
Duke. Tis good: though music oft hath such a you advise it.
charm, Duke, It is not my consent,
Tt) 44 ° Intrn. °
To make bad, good, and good proy roke toharm. | a my, ntreaty too. L;
I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me wi mt kot \, ot ave YOU te Bay,
| ' ) ty) YY s
here to- day ? much upon this time have I promis’d| }) ™ Teil SB gt ten hey Jum, but, soft and low,
here to meet. oe. member Mow my Orelher,
\] ; .
Mari. You have not been inquired after: I have | ie ab Banta a 1 = car me not.
sat here all day. | uke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all:
Enter Tanbeti Hee is your husband on  preseont ‘et:
sitter 1savella. , lo bring you a together, ’tis no sin ;
Duke. 1 do constantly believe you :—The time} Sith® that the justice of your title to him
| Doth flouris} 10 the > deceit. Come, let us go;
1) Appearance. (2) Trained, ;
3) Walled round. (4) I a d, wooden. (7) Inquisitions, inquiries. (8) Sallies,
5) Informed. (6) Waits, (9) Since, (10) Gild or varnish over,Our corn’s to reap, for yet our tithe’s! to sow.
[Exewnt.

SCENE I/.—A room in the prison. Enter

Provost and Clown.

Prov. Come hither, sirrah: can you cut off a
man’s head ? ;

Clo. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can: but if
he be a married man, he is his wife’s head, and J
can never cult off a woman’s head.

Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches. and
yield me a direct answer. To-morrow mornin
are to die Claudio and Barnardine: here is in ou
— a common executioner {]
acks a helper: if you will take it on you to assist

him, it shall redeem you (rom your gyves;? if not,
you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and
your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for
you have been a notorious bawd.

Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time
out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a law-
ful hangman. I would be elad to receive some in-
struction from my fellow partner.

Prov, What ho, Abhorson! Where’s Abhorson,
there ?

Enter Abhorson.
Abhor. Do you call, sir?
Prov. Sirrah, here’s a fellow will help vou to-

morrow in your ext cution: if you think hi 1 I
compound with him by the year, and let him abid
here with you: if not, use him for the present,
dismiss him: he cannot plead his estimation wit

:
you; he hath been a bawd.
Abhor. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will dis-
credit our mystery.?
Prov. Go to, sir: you welch equa

will turn the scale. [ Evil.

Clo, Pray, sir, by vour cood fav
sir, a good favour* you have. but that » hay
hanging look,) do you call, sir, your o
mystery ?

Abhor. Ay, sir; a mystery.

Clo. Painting, sir, I have heard say. is a mys-
tery ; and your whores, sir, | r mem of my
occupation, using painting, do prove my Ipa-
tiona mystery: but what mystery th
hanging, if I should be hang’d, I cannot imagi

Abhor. Sir, it is a myst

Cle. Proof. E

Abhor. Every true* man’s appa: vol
thief: if it be too little for your thief, vour |
thinks it bie enough: if it be too bic for vour
your thief thinks it
man’s apparel fits your thief.

Re-enter Py vo c.

;

little enough: ») every true

Prov. Are you agreed 1
lo. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find,

hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd ;
he doth oftener ask forgiveness.

Pror. You, sirrah, provide your block “] a vi ty
axe, to-morrow four o’clock.
AAbhor. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in

my trade; follow.

‘Clo. I do desire to learn, sir: and, I hope, if you
have occasion to use me for vour own turn, you
shall find me yare:* for, truly, sir, for your kind-
ness, I owe you 2 crood turn.

Prov. Call hither, Barnardine and Claudio:

[Exeunt Clown and Abhorson.

) Tilth, land prepared for sowings (2) Fetters.
) Trade, (4) Countenance, (5) Honest

 

Seene IT. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 109

'One has my pity; not a jot the other,
Being a murderer, though he were my brother.
Enter Claudio,
look, here’s the warrant, Claudio, for thy death:
"Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where’s Barnardine?
Claud. As fast lock’d up in sleep, as guiltless
labour
When it lies starkly’ in the traveller’s bones:
He will not wake.”
Prov. Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise ?
| Knocking within.
Heaven give your spirits comfort! [Ezit Claudio.
By and by :—
| hope it is some pardon, or reprieve,
lor the most gentle Claudio.—Welcome, father.

Enter Duke.

Duke. The best and wholesomest spirits of the
nicht
Eanve lop you, good provost! Whocall’d here of late ?
ov. None, since the curfew rung.

hike, Not Isabel?

uke. They will then, ere’t be long.

’rov. What comfort is for Claudio?
There’s some in hope.

. It is a bitter deputy.

Duke. Not so, not so; his life is parallel’d

i;ven with the stroke and line of his great justice ;

He ¢ 1 with holy abstinence subdue

hat in himself, which he spurs on his power

l‘o qualify® in others: were he meal’d®

With that which he corrects,then were he tyrannous;

But this being so, he’s just.—N ow are they come.—
| Knocking within—Provost goes out.

his is a gentle provost: Seldom, when

The stecled caoter is the friend of men.

tiow now? What noise? That spirit’s possess’d

That wou the unsisting postern with these
Provost returns, speaking to one at the door.
Prov. There he must stay, until the officer
\ » let him in; he ts call’d up.
Duke. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,
But he must die to-morrow ?
Prov, None, sir, none.
Duke. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is,
you shall hear more ere morning.
Prov. Happily,’

You something know; yet, I believe, there comes
No countermand * no sul h example have Wes

Besides, upon the very sicge!! of justice,
Lord Angelo hath to the public cal
rrok ’d the contrary.

Enter a Messencer.

Duke. This is his lordship’s man.

Prov. And here comes Claudio’s pardon.

Mess. My lord hath sent you this note ; and by
me this further charge, that you swerve not from
the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter,
nor other circumstance. Good MOrrow ; for, as I
take it, i is almost day.

Prov. I shall obey him. [ Exit Messenger.

Duke. This is his pardon; purchased by such

sin, ' (Aside,

Ready, (7) Stiffly, (8) Moderate,
| (9)"Defiled, (10) Perhaps, (11) Seat,rs

2 as

ate rine

Ce a ey

 

naa ii

  

110 MEASURE F<
For which the pardoner himself is in:
Hence hath offence his quick celerity,
When it is borne in high authority :
When vice makes merey, mercy’s so extended,
That for the faults love, is the offender friended,—
Now, sir, what news ?

Prov. { told you: Lord Angelo, belike, think-|
iny me remiss in mine oflice, awakens me with this|

unwonted putting on:! methinks, strangely ; for|
he hath not used it before.
Huke, Pray you, let’s hear. |
Prov, (Reads.] Whatsoever you may hear to

fie contrary, let Claudio be executed by Jour of}
the clock; and, in the aflernoon, Barnardine 1
Jur my better satisfaction, let me have rete
Acad sent me by five. Let this be didy perform d ;|
with a thought, that more depends on it than we!
must yel deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, |
as you will answer it at your peril,
What say you to this, sir?

Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be!
executed in the afternoon ?

Prov. A Bohemian born; but here nursed up
and bred: one that is a prisoner nine years old.*

Duke. How came it, that the absent’ duke had
not either deliver’d him to his liberty, or executed
hin ? I have heard, it was ever his manner to do so.

Prov. His friends still wroucht repricves {01
him: and, indeed, his fact, till now in the eruvern-
ment of lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful
proof, :

Duke. Is it now apparent ?

Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself.

Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in
prison! How seems he to be touch’d ?

Prov. A man that apprehends death no mor
dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep; careless, reck-
less, and fearless of what’s past, present, or to
come; insensible of mort lity, and desperately
mortal,

Duke. He wants advice.

Prov, He willhear nove: he hath -vermore had}
the liberty of the prison ; give him leave to escap. |
hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if}

not many days entirely drunk. We have very | tri

often awaked him, as if to carry him to execution,
and show’d him a seeming warrant for it: it hath!
not mov’d him at all.

Duke, More of him anon.

here is written in

your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: If Lois

read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles mi
bntin the boldness of my cunning, I will ley my-
self in hazard. Claudio, re you have a

whom he

warrant to execute, is no creater forfeit to the lax
?

i

than Angelo who hath sentenced him: to make
you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave
but four days respite; for the which you are to dé
me both a present and a dangcrous courtesy,

;

Prov. Pray, sir, in what]

Duke. Inthe delaying death.

Prov, Alack! how may I do it? having the hou:
limited ; and an express command, under penalty
to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may
make my case as Claudio’s, to cross this in the
smallest.

Duke. By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, |
if my instructions may be your guide.
Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head |
be borne to Angelo.

|

Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and willl,

discover the favour.? |

(1) Spur, incitement, (2) Nine years in prison.

    

ihim for a better place,

}

a ere all d ad,

Let this \

 

)R MEASURE. Act UI,

Duke. O, death’s a great disguiser: and you
may add to it. Shave ihe head, and tie the beard :
and say, it was the desire of the penitent to be so
bared before his death; you know, the course is
common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more
than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom
I profess, I will plead against it with my life,
Prov. Pardon me, good father ; it is against my
oath.

Duke, Were you sworn to the duke, or to the
deputy ?

Prov. To him, and to his substitutes.

Duke. You will think you have made no offence,
if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing ?

Prov. But what likelihood is in that?

Duke. Nota resemblance, but a certainty. Yet
sxice I see you fearful, that neither my coat, in-
tegrily, nor my persuasion, can with ease ultempt

iyou, 1 will go turther than ] meant, to pluck all
tears out of you.

l.ook you, sir, here is the hand
ut seal of the duke. You know the character, I

doubt not; and the sienet is not strange to you,

,

rev. | know them both,

Duke. The contents of this is the return of the
auke; you shall anon over-read it at your plea-
sure ; where you shall find, within these two days
he will be here, This is a thing, that Angelo
knows not; for he this very day receives letters of

Strange tenor; perchance, of the duke’s death ;

perchance, entering into some monastery ;

but, by

chance, nothing of what is writ.—Look, the un.

folding star calls up the shepherd: put not your-
sell into amazement, how these things should be,

all difficulties are but easy when they are known,

all your executioner, and off with Barnardine’s

id: I will give him a present shrift, and advise
Yet you are amazed; but
this shall absolutely resolve you. Come aw ay; it

almost clear dawn. | Exeunt,

SCENE III—Another room in the same. Enter
Ciown.

Clo. I amas well acquainted here, as I was in our
house of profession: one would think, it were mis-
5 Over-done’s own house, for here be many of
her old customers. First, here’s young master Rash;
he’s in for a commodity of brown paper and old
ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds ; of which
made five marks, ready moncy : marry, then,
1s not much in request, for the old women

Then is there here one master Ga-
per, at the suitof master Three-pile the mercer, for
some four suits of peach-colour'’d satin, which now
peaches hima beggar. Then have we here young
Dizy, and young master Deep-vow, and master
Copper-spur, and master Starve-lackey the rapier
ind dagger-man, and young Drop-heir that lalPd
lusty Pudding, and master Forthricht the tilter, and
brave master Shoc-tie the creat traveller, and wild

lf-cann that stabb’d Pots, and, I think, forty
more; all great doers in our trade, and are nowfor

* ¥F

~—

the Lord’s sake.

Enter Abhorson.

bhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

Clo. Master Barnardine! you must rise and be
ane’d, master Barnardine.

“lbhor. What, ho, Barnardine !

Bernar. [Within.] A pox o’ your throats! Who
nakes that noise there? What’ are you?

Clo. Your friend

<

s, sir; the hangman: you must

(3) Countenance,Scene ILI. MEASURE
be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.

Barnar, [Within.] Away, you rogue, away
am sleepy. ’

lbhor. Tell him, he
quickly too,

Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake Lill you
executed, and sleep afterwards

bhor. Go in to him, and feteh him out.

Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; I hear
straw rustle,

must awake

Enter Barnardine.
Mbhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
Clo. Very ready, sir.
Barnar. How now, Abhorson? what's the n
with you?

Abhor.

’

into your pr: Lyers: for, look you, the warrants come

Barnar. You rogue, | have been drinking
night, I am not fitted for't,

Clo. O, the better, sir; for he that drinks
night, and is hane
sleep the sounder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

-ibhor. Look you, sir, here comes your cho:
father; do we jest now, think you

Duke. Sir, induced by my charity. and h
how hastily you are to dep irt, Iam come to a
you, comfort you, and pray with you.

Barnar. Friar, not I: I have been drinkine hat

all night, and I will have more time to pre;
or they shall beat out my brains with billets: I

not consent to die this d Ly, that’s certain.
Duke. O, sir, you must: and therefore, |
seech you,
Look forward on the journey yor shail
a I swear, I will not die to-
man’s persuasion.
Duk But hear you,.——
Barner. Nota word: if you h
say to me, come to my ward; for thence will

to-day. b

Bul r Pr vi
Duke. Unfit to live, or die: O, gravel
After him, fellows; bring him to the block.
[Ereunt A | / Once G
Prov. Now, sir, how do you fi vr,
Duke. A creature unprepar’d, unu
And, to transport him in the mind he is,
Were Se aeetie.
Pror. Here in the prison, father,

There died this morning of a cruel |

One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,

A man of C laudio’ s years: his beard, and head,
Just of his colour: What if we do omit

This reprobate, till he were well inclin’
And satisfy the de puty with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
Duke. O, ’is an accid nt that Heaven provid
Despatch it presently ; the hi WS
Prefix’d by Angelo: See, this be done,
And sent according to command: whi!
Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die
Prov. This shall be done,
But Barnardine must die this aflernoon:
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 ;
holds,

wood fathe » PFCSCH

{
.

(1) The antipodes, (2) Your heart’s

 

—

Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap

’d betimes in the morning, m

—Put them in secret

desire,

    
  
    
    
       
     
  
  
  
  
     
   
 
   
   
       
       
  
 
 
    
   
   
   
  
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

RR MEASURE. 111

Ape Claudio: Ere twice
: his journal greeting to

a’
"| ler fener: Han, } you shall find
Pa r salety

R 4) Rarn wat i
PULII parnardine

ie sun hath mac

’

manilested,

Prov, | ain your free dependant.

Duke, Quick, despatch,
\nd send the head to Angelo. | Evil Provost.
Now will | tvrite letters to Angelo,—

Lhe provost, he shall bear them, —whose contents
Shall witness to him, lam near at home ;
\nd that, by ereat injunctions, I am bound
lo cnter publicly: him VI desire
lo meet me at the conseerated fount,
2% uc below the city ; and lrom thence,
By cold eradation es weal-balanced form,
\Vi wall proceed wi Angelo.

Re-ent j" Pri vost.

Ifere is the head; Dll carry it myself.

Duke. Convenient is it: Make a swift return ;
or | would commune with you of such things,
Dhat w nl no car bul yours,

Prov. I'll make all speed.

| xit,

Isah, TH ihin.] Peace, ho, be here!

I) . The tongru of isabel :—She’s come to

Lnow,
her brother’s pardon be come hither:
0 i ) r ign lil i Tey rood,
l’o heavenly comforts of di pair,
4\ } bs et i
Enter Isabcll

/ 1 . \ | TC.

Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gracious

isab. The better, civen me by so holy a man.
tlath I ent my brother’s pardon ?

i} rcleas’d him, Isabel, from the
L] Ancelo,

j ‘ '

It is no other:
‘aughter, in your close pa-
Isah, O, I will to him, | pluek out his eyes.

o his sight.

j cn’ i Claudio! V4 tched Isabel!

| aes r hurts him, nor profits you a jot:
tory it f “cfore : ive your cause to Heaven,
vi i 1 you shall find,
( i Luli Verity :
i i { “morro nay, dry you
CYCS $
One ¢ convent, and his confessor,
Gives } his instance: Already he hath carried
Ni to | lus and Angelo:
Who co prepare to meet him at the gates,
There to give up th ir power. If youcan, pace
vi ir wisdom
In that | path tl at I would wish it go;
And you a all have your bosom? on this wretch,

(the duke, revenges to y our heart,

am directed by you.

Duke. This letter then to friar Peter give ;
lis that he sent me of the duke’s return:
say, by this token, I desire his company
At Varia a’s house tonight. Her cause, and yours

him withal; and he shall bring you
ie duke 5 and i to the head of Angelo
For my poor self,See

J san

aap TR FLINT PORT

12

Iam combined by 4 sacred vow,
And shall be absent.

Command these frettmg waters

With a light heart ;

trust not my holy order,

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

from your eyes

If I pervert your course.—Who’

Ente r Lucio,

Lucio.

Friar, where is the provost ?

Duke.

Lucio. QO, pretty sabel lla, I
heart, to see thine eyes so red:
tient: I am fain to dine a id su]
bran: | dare not for my he:
fruitful meal would set me to" ie
duke will be here to-morrow. B
I lov’d thy brother: if the old
dark corners had been at home,

Duke. Sir, the duke is marvel
to your reports ; but the best is, h

ucio,.
as ldo:
him for.
Duke.
ye well.
Lucio.

Friar, th
he’s a bet

Well,
Nay,

Duke. You havi
ready, sir, if they |
enough ;

Lucio.
with child.

Duke.

Lucio.
swear
rotten medlar.

Duke. Sir, your
Rest you well.

Lucio. By m\
lane’s end: If |
very little o
shall stick.

SCENE IV,

Yes,

An

Escal.

vouch’d? other.

/ing. In most uneven

actions show much
his wisdom be not
the gates, and re-:
Escal. I au
Aug. And wh
before his enter
tice,

Escal.

|

He

show
|

de ‘spatch of complai
a

evices hereafter,
to stand a
Ane. Well,

Betimes ? the

I be

tarr

I was once

fit: Na

Every lett:

they sh sald exhil

tri

morn,

ver wot

told

ve Lrue

: es Ph
can tell thee pretty tales of the duke
me

b fi r¢

— ] ro

Yi} ;
LLAC

; ‘
Liki

:
leilVe!

)

is pct
ia
nou

4} gee ee
,~ tnati a {

’

;
hic r
2 iia |
5? .
LILLS ¢

Me LLICil

gainst us,
Oct h Vv

Did you such at
mart
it; they woul

Oul

wine

7

yu knowest

you'll answer

ro

it

Give notice to such men of so
As are to meet him.

E scal.
. ing.

I s}

Good ni rh

’ ee
iall, Si

Ps

Not
am
thou mu
taf;

yYmys
fant

|
;

alone

ii

’
» At
ll you a

 

rt

e
ture

This deed unshapes me quite,

nant,
And dull to all
And by an eminent

1) Go.
Calls,

proces ding

t body,

(2) Contradicted.
challenges her to do it.

Credit unquestionable, (6) Utterer,

q

A de

that enfore’d

Loo

;

and

    

;
‘

}

Make

fl werd maid

s here ?

)

le

iS ic

within,

ps

‘
it
+
Li

1] .

Ly

Tt ley sa
troth,

Id

cd live ad.

t vour ]

Lil,

) Fievure

sme

ane

}
You wit ll.

14

Good even!

sir.

mine

st be pa-

‘rand
- one

yY Lie

a. ol

im Gi-

[ Exit.

unpreg-

} |

! rank. |

   
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
    
    
   
     
  
      
  
   
   
    
  
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
  
   
 
  
 
 
  

Act V

ies 'The law against it!—But that her tender shame
Wend! you with this letter :}

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 iteonfounds the breather.* He should haveliv'’d,
Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense,
‘Might, in the times to come, have ta’en revenge,

By so rece iving a dishonour’d life,

With ransom of such shame, ?Would yet he
had liv’d!

\lack, when once our grace we have forgot,

we would and we would not.
Evit.

Nothing goes right ;

SCE. V.—Fields without the town. Enter
ake | in his own habit, and Friar Peter.
Duke. These letters at fit time deliver me.

{ Giving letters.
The ror ost knows our purpose, and our plot,
he matter being afoot, keep your instruction,
And | hold you ever to our special drift ;
‘Though sometimes you do blench’ from this to that
\s cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius’ house,
(nd tell him where I stay: give the like notice,
To Va Rowland, and to Crassus,

And bid them bring the trumpe ts to the cate ;

lentinus,

But send me Flavius first
Peter It shall be speeded well.
| Ewit Friar.
Enter Varrius.
Duke. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made

: 3
ood haste

vill walk

;

There’s other of our friends

Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius, [Eze.
SCENE VI.—Street near the cily gate. Enter
Isabella and Mariana,

] lo speak so indirectly, I am loath
[ would say the truth; but to accuse him so,
That is your part: yet I am advis’d to do it;
H{e says, to veil full® purpose.
Mari. Be rul’d by him.
Isab. Besides, he tells me, that, if peradventure
He speak against me on the adve rse side,

! should not think it strange

Chat’s bitter to sweet end,

for ’tis a physie,

Mari. I would, friar Peter,—
Isab. QO, peace; the friar is come.
Enter Friar Peter
I’, Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand
most fit,
Where you may have such vantage® on the duke, ’
He shall not pass you: Twice have the trumpets
sound d:
The cenerous'® and gravest citizens
Have hent'! the gates, and very near upon

‘The duke is entring ; therefore hence, away. [Ere.

enti ene

AUT Y¥,
SCENE I.—4 public place near the city gate,
Mariana (veiled,) Isabella, and Peter, at a dis-

tance. Enter at opposite doors, Duke, Varrius,
Lords; Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Ofti-
cers, and Citizens.

Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met:—

| (7) Start off,
| (10) Most noble

(8) Availful. (9) Advantage,
(11) Seized,Jur old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. !T

“Ang. & Escal. Happy return be to your royal
!

race ! if

Duke. Many and he arty thankings
We have made inquiry of you; and w

Such goodness of your justice, that our sou If

Cannot but yield you fort th to public
Forerunning more requital.

lag. You make my bonds stil]
Duke. your desert speaks loud |
wrons ; it,
To lock it in the wards ofc vert bosom.
When it deserves with characters of brass |
A forted reside nc¢ 7% ainst tne tooth of tin
And razure of o] Spe oh Give me your ha:
And let the subject si e, to make them kn
That Steen heres Wee 1 In prog im
Favours that keep within.—C » Esealu
You must walk Uy uk on cur ofhes i ls nn
And , good Supporters ar you, C
Friar Peter and I abella come forw L y'
F. Peter. Now is your time: speak |
kneel before him. '
Isab. Justice, O, royal duke! \ 1
Upon a Ww rone’d, I'd fain have s uid, i : :
© worthy prince, dishonour not your «
By throwing it on any other o]
Till you have heard mein my true comp!
And give me, just . e, Justice, justice, justice |
Duke. Relate your wrongs: In what? PR
Be brief
Here is lord Angelo shall ciy ‘
Reveal yourself to him.
Isah. O, worthy «
You bid me seek redemption of the dey] -
Hear me yourself; fur that which I mu k
Must either punish me, not being beliew’d.
Or wring redress from you: hear me, O, ri
“here
Ane. My lord. her wits, I fi firm : |p
She hath Oem a suitor to me { ir her b; ‘
Cut off by course of justice. "
Isab. By cou : | '

‘ing. And she will speak m

strange. |

Isab. Most strange, but yet most t ly, will Ij”
speak :

That Angelo’ s forsworn: is it}

That Angelo’s a ee er: j i Ly
That Angelo is an adulterous thi
A hypocrite, a virgin-violat

Is it not strange, and strange ?

Duke. Nay, ten times strange. |r.
Isab, It is not truer he is Angelo, Rel
Than this is all as true as it is n MI
Nay, it is ten times true: for truth is truth v
To the end of reckoning, 1
Duke. Away wilh her Poo ul.
She speaks this i in the infirmity of sense.
Isab. ( O prince, I cénjure thee, as thou belli
There is sed hes r comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me not, wi hthat opinion _
That lam touch’d with madness: make not im- ,
possible i
That which but seems unlike: ’tis not im
sible. j
But one, the wicked’st caitiff on the ground, 1
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, af
As Angelo; even so may Angelo, i

1) Lower. (2) Habits and characters of office,
Refuted, (4) Pity, (5) Foolish,

Scene f. MEASURE FOR MEASUKKE.

    
    
  
      
   
 
 
   
    
 
 
   
 
 
 
   
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
   
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
    
    
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 

lig

ings,? characts, titles, forms,
rch-villain: believe it royal prince,
less, he’s nothing ; but he’s more,
ve name tor badness,
By mine honesty,
elieve no other, )
dness } ae the oddest frame of sense,
dependency of thing on thing,
‘i heard in madness.
O, gracious duke,

nor do not b: inish reason
. yOur reason serve
ur, W he re it seems hid;

rt

Mi: iny that are not mad
lack of reason.—What would

lam t ister of one Claudio,
*d upon the act of fornic ation
id; condemn’d by Angelo:
tion of a sister] hood,
to by my brother: One Lucio
mi never :—
Vhat’s I, an’t like your grace:
from Claudio, and desir’d her
her cious fortune with lord Angelo,
brother’ irdon.
That’s he indeed.
ju were not bid to speak.
No, my good lord ;

I wish you now then ;
and when you have
lor yourself, pray heaven, you then

I warrant your honour.
The warrant’s for yourself; take heed

7 rentlieman told somewhat of my tale.

be right; but you are in the wrong
ik Delore your time.—Proceed,
I went
is caluiff’ deputy.
hal’ newhat madly spoken.
Pardon it ;

un: the matter :—Proceed.
In brief.—to set the needless process by,
how I pray’d, and kneel’d,
vd? me, and how I reply’d;

‘ much length,) the vile e onclusion
itn eriel and shame to utter:
by eift of my chaste body

ble intemperate lust,
id, aller muc h de ‘batement,
re rse* confules mine honour,

m: But the next morn be slimes,
@ 8! iting, he sends a warrant
») i Li - he id

This is most likely !

». O, that it were as like, as it is true!
. By heaven, fond® wretch, thou know’st

VW it th uu spea ik? st:
t suborn ‘a ag ainst his honour,

| practice :°—Fi » his integrity
blemish: ne nh itimports no reason,

h vehemency he should pursue
himself: if he had so offe nded,

h ej hid | thy brother by himself,

havecut him off: Some one hath set youone

 

(6) Conspiracy,

P fere

; (To Justily this worthy nobleman,
y

114 MEASURE FOR MEASUIE. dc ¥

Confess thé truth, and say by whose advice Duke, Are ¥oti 4 maid !

Thou cam’st here to complain. Mari. No, my lord,
Isab. And is this ali?| Duke. A widow then? |

Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, _ Mari. Neither, my lord.

Keep me in patience ; and, with ripen’d time, Duke. Why, you

Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up Are nothing then:—Neither maid, widow, nor wife?
In countenance !—Heaven shield your grace from| Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many
wo, of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.

As I, thus wrong’d, hence unbelieved go ! Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had

Duke. I know, you’d fain be gone :—<An officer ! | some cause
To prison with her ;—Shall we thus permit ‘To prattle for himself.
A blasting anda scandalous breath to fall | wucio. Well, my lord.
On him so near us? This needs must bea practice.| Wari. My lord, I doconfess I ne’er was married ;
—Who knew of your intent, and coming hither? |And, I confess, besides, | am no maid:
Isab. One that] would were here, friar Lodowick. |I have known my husband ; yet my husband knows

Duke. A ghostly father, belike:—Who knows| not,
that Lodowick ? peat ever he knew me.
Lucio. My lord, I know him; ’tis a meddling friar;}_ Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it can be

ino better.

Duke. For the benefit of silence, ’would thou
wert so too.

Lucio. Well, my lord.

Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo.

And to set on this wretched woman here Mari. Now I come to’t, my lord:
Against our substitute ?—Let this friar be found. |She, that accuses him of fornication,
ucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that,In self-same manner doth accuse my husband ;

i And charges him, my lord, with such a time,
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms,
With all the effect of love.
Blessed be your royal grace!| dng. 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.

“ing. This is a strange abuse:'—Let’s see thy

Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of ? | face,

F. Peter. I know him fora man divine and holy ;| Mari. My husband bids me ; now I will unmask.
Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, | Unveiling.
As he’s reported by this gentleman ;
And, on my trust, a man that never y~t
Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. ing on:

Lucio. My lord, most villanously ; believe it. This is the hand, which, with a vow’d contract,

F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear| Was fast belock’d in thine ; this is the body

himself ; That took away the match from Isabel, %
But at this instant he is sick, my lord, 'And did supply thee at thy garden-house,
Of a strange fever : Upon his mere? request {In her imagin’d person. —

I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord,

For certain words he spake against your grace

In your retirement, I had swing’d' him soundly.
Doda. Words against*me? This’ a good friar, |

belike !

riar

I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar,
A very scurvy fellow.

F. Peter.
I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus’d: First, hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus’d your substitute ;
Who is as free from touch or soil with her,
As she from one ungot.

Duke. We did believe no less.

 

'This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
Which, once thou swor’st, was worth the look-

(Bees come to knowledge that there wascomplaint; Duke. Know you this woman?
ntended ’gainst lord Angelo,) came I hither, Lucio. Carnally, she says.

ry . ' és x

lo speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Duke. Sirrah, no more.

|
Is true, and false ; and what he with his oath, | Lucio. Enough, my lord.
And all probation, will make up full clear, | ing. My lord, I must confess, I know this wo-
Whensoever he’s convented.? First, for this woman| man ;
‘And, five years since, there was some speech of
marriage
Betwixt myself and her ; which was broke off,
|Parily, for that her promised proportions
Good friar, let’s hear it. Came short of composition ;° but, in chief,

[Isabella is carried off, cuarded ; and|¥ or that her reputation was disvalued

Mariana comes forward. ‘In levity : sin¢e which time of five years,

’ 5 |[ never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from het
Do you not amile at this, lord Angelo ?— |Upon my faith and honour. i
O heaven! the vanity of wretched fools !— | Mari.” Noble prince
Give us some seats.—Come, cousin Angelo ; |As there comes light from heaven, and words from
In this I’]l be impartial; be you judge | breath, —

Of your own cause,—Is this the witness, friar? _| As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue
First, let her show her face ; and, after speak. I am affiane’d this man’s wife, as strongly
Mari. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my face,|As words could make up vows: and, my gocd lord
Until my husband bid me. [But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden-house,

Duke, What, are you married ?}He knew me as a wife: As this is true

Mari, No, my lord, Let me in safety raise me from my knees ;

So vulgarly* and personally accus’d, )

Her shall you hear disproved to her cyes,

Till she herself confess it. ‘
Duke.

?

(2) Simple, (3) Convened, (5) Deception.

(i Beat. (6) Her fortune fell short,

(4) Publicly,Seene J, MEASURE FOR MEASURE, 115

Or else fo; ever b

i tite Et Vi ean ‘ oe :
A ‘ble ~ aS EEO | Escai. How! know you where you are ?
marble monument! | Duke, Respect to your great lace ! and let the
Ane, t dul bul smile till now: | aie S p :
o wa bul sinile ull now: | devil

Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ;| Be some

time honour’d for his burning throne:
Bae ees my lor e me e 0 é 1 fi $ burning throne :—
-~ patience here js touc h’d: I do perceive, | Where is the duke? °tis he should hear me speak.
wse poor ‘ma { nar nore | ‘on iP vinta < .

R ; po vv intor mai” women are ho more Escal. The duke’s in us; and we will hear you
>ul instruments of some more michti rmember, | speak: ;
That sets them on: Let me ave way, my lord, |Look, you speak justly,

To find this practice? out. :

| Duke. Boldly, at least
: with my heart : Come you to seck the lan
And punish them unto your height.of plea 1
Thou foolish {; lr

:—But, O, poor souls,
. ib here of the fox ?
ure.— |Good nivht to your redress. Is the duke gone ?

h fr and thou pernicious woman, {Then js your cause gone too. The duke’s unjust,
( Ompact with h r that’s rome ! think { wWnou, thy} Thus LO retort?

Duke. Ay,

Ma

your manifest appeal
oaths And put your trial i iain? ut
. _ oaths, He pat your trial in the villain’s mouth,
hae j . 7 ‘>: >
Phough they would sweat cown each parlicular| Which here you come to accuse,
a saint, | Lucio. This is the ra scal ; this is he I spoke of.
rp ¢ m [Ae meomamat ke et mrt menses r. ' , ‘ .
ne *StiMonies ayainst his worth and credit, Escul. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow’d
Phat’s sealed in approbation?~—You, lord Esealu ; friar !

Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains Is’t not enough, thou hast suborn’d these women

To find out this abuse, whence ’tis deriv'd.— ’o accuse this worthy man ; but, in foul mouth,
Chere is another friar that sct them on : (nd in the witness of his proper car,
Let him be sent for. le call him villain?
F. Peter. Would he were hei » my lord ; for he,; And then to glance from him to the duke himself;
indecd, lo tax him with injustice ?—Take him hence ;
Hath set the women on to this « ymplaint: lo the rack with him:—We’ll touze you joint by
Your provost knows th place where he abides, joint,
And he may feteh him. But we will know this purpose :—What! unjust ?
Duke. Go, do it instantly,.— [Exit Provost.| Duke. Be not so hot; the duke
And you, my noble and well-warranted cou in, Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he
Whom it conecrns to hear this matter f rth,? Dare rack his own ; his subject am I not,
Do with your injuries as seems you be st, | Nor here provincial :* My business in this state

asusement: I for a while Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,
Will leave you; but stir not you, till you have| Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble,
call ‘ Till it o’er-run the stew: laws, for all faults ;

Determined upon these slanderers. But faults so countenane’d, that the strong statutes
Escal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly.—[ Exit) Stand like the forfeits in a barber’s shop,

Duke. ] Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew|As much in mock as mark.

that frier loadewick to be a dishaned! person ? Escal. Slander to the state! Away with him to
Lucio. Crcullus n n facu monachium : honest in prsson.

}
'

In any «

nothing, but in his clothes ; and one that hath spoke “Ing. What can you vouch against him, signior
; ; . | “y ) :
most villanous Sm ches ol the duke. Lucio

Escal, We shall entreat vou to abide here til]| Is this the man that you did teil us of ?
he come, and enforce them ae inst him: we shall Lucio. ’Tis he, my lord.—Come hither, goodman

find this friar a notable fellow. bald-pate : Do youknow me?
Lucio. As any in Vienna. on my word. Duke. lremember you, sir, by the sound of your
Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again -|voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of
ops ’ —s : ; i
[To an allendant, | l would speak wilh her: | uy hie duke, i. .
you, my lord, give me leave to question: vou sh 7 Lucio. O, did you so? And do you remember
‘ . My t, Bi fi aye t i i 3 ‘ itil ma J
see how I'll handle her what you said of the duke?
' stil nat . , ; : re
Lucio. Not be‘ter than he, by her own report. / Une, Most note dly, Slr.
Escal. Say you? Lucio, Do you so, sir? And was the duke a flesh-
Lue Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her| monger, a fool, and acow ard, as you then reported
° yy ’ . : a a ie
wivately, she would sooner contess : perchance, | um to be f
publicly she'll be ashamed Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me,

ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke
Re-enter Officers, with Isabella; the Duke, in the|so of him; and much more, much worse,

friar’s h abil end Peowont | Lucio. O thou damnable fellow! Did not Lpluek
td ti te, 40 rU ; . i
; thee by the nose, for thy speeches ?
Escal. 1 will go darkly to work with her. | Duke. I protest I love the duke, as I love myself.
Lucto. That’s the way; for women are light at Ing. Wark! how the villain would close now,
midnight ; ifter his treasonable abuses.
Escal Come.on, mistress: [70 Isabella.] here’s} Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talk’d withal :-—
a ventlewoman denies all that you have said. Away with him to prison :—Where is the provost ?
‘Lucio. My lord. here comes the rascal | spoke| Away with him to prison; lay bolts enough upon
of: here. with the provost. him; let him speak no more. Away with those
E : Lt ‘ry good ti -s——spcak not you to rjolots® too, and with the other confederate com-
,3cd. nh very goo ne: pcan ; . 1 .
him, till we call upon you panion, | Zhe Provost lays hands on the Duke.
ill, . — ‘ . » siheln
, Fondta Mum Duke. mtay, sir; stay a while.

. . a Ag ie : : .
Escal, Come, sir: Did you set these women on ng. W hat ! resists he? Help him, Lucio.

to slander lord Anvclo? they have confess’d you Hucto, Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir ; foh,

r “4g : sir: Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must

wa, : > : a e lbnavwap’? ree
Duke. ’Tis false. be hooded, must you? Show your knave’s visage,

(1) Crazy, (2) Conspir icv, 3) To the end, (4) Refer back. (5) Accountable, (6) Wantons,116 MEASURE POR MEASURE. Act P

with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face,|Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach,
and be han ’dan hour! W ill’t not off? | Thereon dependant, for your brother’s life, )
1P Pulls off the fri iar’s hood, and discover's|The very mercy of the law cries out
the Most audible, even from his proper* tongue,
Duke. Thou art the first knave, that e’er made|.4n Angelo for Claudio, death for death.
a duke.—— | Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ;
First, provost, let me bail these gentle three :—— | Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure.
Sneak not away, sir; [To Lucio.]} for the friar and/Then, Angelo, thy fault’s thus manifested :
rou |Which though thou would’st deny, denies thee
Must have a word anon :—lay hold on him. | vantage
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging. | We do condemn thee to the very block
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; sit you Where Claudio stoop’d to death, and with like

down.—— [Zo Escalus | haste ;—
We'll borrow place of him :—Sir, by your leave: |Away with him.
[To Angelo.| Mari. O, my most gracious lord,
Hast thou or word, or wit, or impude nce, ‘I hope | you will nct mock me with a husbx ind ! ’
That yet can do thee office?! If thou hast, | Duke. It is your husband mock’d you with a
Rely upon it till my tale be heard, husband : :
And hold no longer out. | Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
Ang. O my dread lord, [ thought your marriage fit; else imputation,
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, | For that he knew you, mig ht r¢ proach your life,
To think I can be undiscernible, | And choke your good to come : for his possessions
When I perceive, your grace, like power divine, | Although by confiscation they are ours,
Hath look’d upon my passes:* Then, good prince, |We do instate and widow you withal,
No longer session hold upon my shame, To buy you a better husband,
But let my trial be mine own confe ssion ; | Mari. O, my dear lord,
Immediate sentence then, and sequent* de ath, | crave no other, nor no better man.
Is all the grace I beg. | Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive.
Duke. Come hither, Mariana:—| Mari. Gentle my liege,— [ Kneeling.
Say, wast thou e’er contracted to this woman? | Duke. You do but lose your labour ;
Ing. I was, my lord. | Away with him to death.—Now, sir, [7'o Lucio. ]
Duke. Go, take her hence, and marry her in-| lo you.
stantly.— | Mari. O, my good lord!—Sweet Isabel, take
Do you the office, friar ; which consummate, my part;
Return him here again :—Go with him, provost. |Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
| Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.|Ull lend you, all my life to do you service.
Escal. My lord, I am more amaz’d at his dis-| Duke. Against all sense® do you importune her:
honour, Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact,
Than at the strangeness of it. Her ee ’s ghost his paved bed would break,
Duke. Come hither, Isabel :| And take her hence in horror.
Your friar is now your prince: As I was then | Mari. aur
Advértising,* and holy to your business, siveet Isabel, do yet but knecl by me ;
Not changing heart with habit, I am still Hold up your hands, say nothing 1 il speak all,
Attorney’d at your service. They say, best men are moulde d out of faults ;
Isab. QO, give me ps ardon, | And, for the most, become much more the be tter
That J, your vassal, have employ ‘d and pain’d lor being a little bad: so may my husband.
Your unknown sovereignty. 10, Isabel! will you not lend a knee?
Duke. You ar ene Isabel] : ‘Duke. lie dies for Claudio’s death.
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. | Isab, Most bounteous sir,
Your brother’s de ath, I know, sits at your heart; | [ Kneeling.
And you may m: arvel, why I obseur’d myself, | Look, if it please you, on this man condemn’d,
Labouring to save his life ; and would not rather | As if my b veils livd: I pe irtly think,
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power, |A due sincerity govern’d his dec ds,
Than let him so be lost: O, most kin nd maid, | Till he did look on me; since itis so,
It was the swift celerity of his death, | L et him not die: My brother had but justice,
Which I did think with slower foot came on, !In that he did the thi ing for which he died
That brain’d my purpose: But » peace be with him! | For Angel lo,
That life is better life, past fe aring death, | His act did not o’ertake his bad intent,
Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort,| And mi nat be buried but as an intent
So happy is your brother. That perish’d by the way: thoughts are no subjec ts,
. it > OF
Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost. ve kate meray ug ghis, ly. my lord.
Tsab. I do, my lord. Duke. Your suit’ sunp rofitable ; st; Gat I say.—
Duke. For this new-married m: in, approaching I have bethought me ay another fault:
here, | Provost, how came it, Claudio was beher aded
Whose salt im agination yet hath wrone’d )At an unusual hour
Your well-de fe nded honour, you must pardon Prov. It was commanded so.
For Mariana’s sake: but as he adjude’d your| Deke. Had you a special warrant for the deed ?
brother : : Prov. No, my good lord ; it was by private mes-
(Being criminal, in double violation sage. —
Duke, For which I do discharge you of your offica
ti} Service, (2) Devices. (3) F ollowing,
4) Attentive, (5) Ange lo’s ewn tongue, (6) Reason and affection,Scene I.

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 :!
lor testimony whereof, one in the prison
That should by private order clse have died,
I have reservy’d alive.
Duke. What's he ?
Prov. His name is Barnardine.
Duke. 1 would thou had’st done so by Claudio. —
Go, fetch him hither ; let '

me look upon him.
| Mactl Provost,

Escal. 1 am sorry, one so learned and so wise
As you, lord Angelo, have still appear’d,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood,
And lack of temper’d judgment afterward.

Ing. Tam sorry, that such sorrow I procure:
And so deep sticks tt in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:
"Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.

a ry. a

Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Julict.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine ?

Prov. Phis

. my lord,

Duke. There was a friar to!d me of this man :—
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul,
That apprehends no further than this world,
And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt condemn’d:
But, for those carly faults, I quit n all
And pray thee, take this mercy to provid
For better times to come :——Friar. advise | }
I leave him to your hand.—What muffled fellor
that? ~
Prov. This is another prisoner, that I v'd.
That should have died when Claudio lost his head :
As like almost Lo C} Lud) », as hiv Se if,
[Unmufiles Claudio
Duke. Uf he be like wr brol {7 | ia
for his sake
Is he pardon’d: And. for vo lovely sake,
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine
He is my brother too: But fitter time for that
By this, | rd Ane i ») perc wes ry 'a ite
Methinks, I see a quickening in his eye :—
Well, Angelo, your evil quits? you well
Look that you love yo ir whe: | rv Ln ort
yours,.—
I find an apt remission in myself:
And yet here’s one in place I cannot pardo
You, sirrah, [Jo Luc ».] that knew me! i foo]
a coward,
One all of luxury,? 2n ass, a madman
VV he rein have | <o deservy'd of j yu
)

That vou extol me thus

Lucio. ’Faith, my lord, I spoke it |

to the trick:* If you will hang me for it, you ma

but I had rather it would please you, I might b

whipp’d, i ate
Duke. Whipp’d first, sir, and hang’d afler.—

Proclaim it, provost, round about the city

If any woman’s wrong’d by this lewd fellow

(As I have heard him swear himself, there’s one

Whom he begot with child,) let her appear,

And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish’d,
(1) Consideration. tequites,

(2) I
(3) Incontinence. |

(4) Thoughtless practice.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
     
 
  
 
   
     
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
    
   
    
  
 
  
    
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
  

117

iLet him be w

hipp’d and hang“d.
|

Lucio. 1 beseech your highness, do not marry
me toa whore! Your highness said even now, I
made you a duke: good my lord, do not recom-
pense me, in making me a euckold.

Duke, Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal
emit thy other forfeits :‘—Take him to prison :
{nd see our pleasure herein executed.

Lucio, Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to
death, whipping, and hanging.

Duke. Sland’ring a prince deserves it.—

She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you restore.—
Joy to you, Mariana !—love her, Angelo ;

[ have confess’d her, and I know her virtue. —
Thanks, good friend Escalus,for thy much goodness:
There’s more behind, that is more gratulate,®
Thanks, provost, for thy care, and secrecy ;

We shall employ thee in a worthier place :—
forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home

The head of Ragozine for Claudio’s ;

The offence pardons itself.—Dear Isabel,

I have a motion much imports your good ;
Whereto if you’ll a willing ear incline,

\What’s mine is yours, and what is yours is mine :.-
So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show
What's yet behind, that’s meet you all should know.
[Exeunt.
-——>
The novel of Giraldi Cinthio, from which Shak-

supposed to have borrowed this fable,
may be read Shakspeare Illustrated, elegantly
translated, with vesia ion which will assist the in-
quirer to discover how much absurdity Shakspeare

1) ii 1s

mn

has admitted or avoided.

I cannot but suspect that some other had new-
modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a story
which in some particulars resembled it, and that
Cinthio was not the author whom Shakspeare im-

ediately followed. The emperor in Cinthio is

med Maximine: the duke, in Shakspeare’s enu-
neration of the persons ol the drama, is called Vin-
nlio. This appears a very slight remark; but
Si » the duke has no name in the play, nor is ever
ntioned but by his title, why should he be called

ntio among the persons, but because the name
from the story, and placed superflu-
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 comie part is very natu-
ral and pleasing, but the grave scenes, if a few pas-
sages be excepted, have more labour than elegance,
The plot is rather intricate than artful. The time
of 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 sufliciently preserved.

JOHNSON,

copied

(5) Punishments, (6) To reward.Sate ay meets aoe

 

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
    
  
     
 
  
  
  
 
    
  
  
 
  
 
  
   
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
 
  
   

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

oe =—<=—— ees =

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Don Pedro, Prince of rragon. 2 Sexton.
Don John, his bastard brother. A Friar.
Claudio, a young lord of Florence, favourite to Boy.
Don Pedro.
Benedick, a young lord of Padua, favourite like- Hero, dauzhter to Leonato.
wise of Don Pedro. Beatrice, niece to Leonato,
4 ’ ) Messina, Margaret, 2 ;
Aaa ee fessin roe » © mentlewomen atlending on Hero.
, ‘Ursula,
Balthazar, servant to Don Pedro.
Borachio
‘ ’ ollowers of Don John.
Conrade, J yf '
Scene, Messina.

Dogberry 5 fs |
Verges, rt two foolish officers. |

Messencers, watch, and attendants,

 

 

a

Mess. O, he is returned; and pleasant as

ACT I.
ver he was.

SCE NE IT.— Before Le on ito’ s house. E ntler L.eco- Beat. He set up his bills he re in Messina, and

nato, Hero, Beatrice, and others, with a Mes- challe nged C upid at the flight:* and my uncle’s
fool, reading the res ‘subscribed for C upid,

senger.
and challenged him at the bird-bolt.—I pray you,
Leonato. ‘ (how many hath he killed and e ae n in these w ars?
|But how many hath he killed? for, indeed, I pro-

I LEARN in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arr a mised to eat all of his killing.
gon, comes this night to Messina. Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too
Mess. He is very near by this ; he was not three | much ; but he’ll be meet* with you, I doubt it not.
leagues off when [I left him. | Mess. He hath dene good service, lady, in these
zeon. How many gentlemen have you lost in| 4s.
this action ? | Beat. You bad musty vietual, and he hath holp
Mess. But few of any sort,! and none of name. | eal it: he is a very valiant trencher-man, he
Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever ;hath an excellent stom ‘ h.
brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don| Wess. And a good : idier too, lady.
Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young|, Beat. And a good soldier to a lady
Florentine, called Claudio. is he to a lord?
Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally| Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stufled
remembered by Don Pedro: he hath borne him-| With all honourable virt wes,
self beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the| Beat. It is so, indeed ; he is no less thana stuffed
figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, in-)/man:° but for the stuffing,—W ell, we are all mortal.
deed, better bettered expectation, than you must|, /¢on. You must not, sir, mistake my niece : there
expect of me to tell you how. " jis a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick
and her: they never meet, but there is a skirmish

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be}
very much glad of it. lof wit between them.

Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and) Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last
there appears much joy in him; even so much,|CoMlict, four of his five wits went halting off,
that joy could not show itself modest enough, with-|and now is the whole man governed with one: so
out a badge of bitterness. ; |that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm,

Leon. Did he break out into tears? \let him bear it for a difference between himself and

Mess. In great measure.? his horse: for it is all the wealth that he hath left

Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: There are|'0 be known a reasonable ereature.—Who is his
no faces truer than those that are so washed. How/Companion now? He hath every month a new
much meyer is it to wecp at joy, than to joy at;sworn brother ;
weeping ? Mess. Is it possib le?

Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto re ‘turned | Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith but
from the wars, or no? las the fi ishion of his hat, it ever changes with the

Mess. I know none of that name, lady; there next block. ;

-—But what

)

was none such } in the army of any snark , Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your
Leon, What is he that you ask for, niece ? | books. ;
Hero, My cousin means signior Benedick of Beat. No: an he were, I would burn my study.

Padua. Sut, l pray you, who is his comps inion ? Is there no

(1) Kind, (2) Abundance, (3) Atlonglengths.| (4) Even. (5) A cuckold, (6) Mould for q hat,Scene I.

Young squarer' now, tl
him to the devil ?

Mess. He is most in
noble Claudio,

iat will make a voyage with

the company of the right

Beat. O Lord! he will hang upon him like a dis-

ease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and
the taker runs presently mad.

God help the noble
Claudio! if he have caucht the Be nedick, it will

cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.
Mess. I will hold frie nds with you, lady.

Beat. Do. rood friend.
Leon. You will never run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.

Wess. Don Pedro is approached,
E iler dD ! Pe dro, allend d
others, Don John, Claudi

Ludi
dD. Pedr » Wood

, ;
azar, and

InP ;
», Ga Benedi k.
signior Leonato

, YOU are come

to mcet vour trouble: the fashion of the vorld is
to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the
likeness of your grace: f r trouble beinz cone, com
fort should remain; but, when you depart from
me, sorrow abides, and happiness | s his leave

D. Pedro. You embrace your charge? too wil-
lincly.—I | unk, this is \ yur 1ucht r

Le n. Her mother hath: Ly Lime told mes

Bene. Were yvouine rubt, 7.7 t ¥ 1 ask I

Leon. Sicnior Benedick, no: fur t } were yo
a child.

DD. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we may
guess vv this what you a iaman Truly
the lady fat rsi rs i :—Beh y, lady! for you
are like an honourable father.

Bene. If sienior Leonato be her father, she wou!ld
not have his h ulonh i houlde , for all M l
as lik him as Si i3.

Bene. | wonuc- that you will still be talking
sizgnior Benedick: no body marks vou.

Bene. What. my dear lady Disdain! are you yet
sian 9
living ! ms
BR sf. I: i p esibli s ‘l acl in sno ild qd C, whil
she hath such meet food tol it, as s! r Bene
dick ? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, il
you come in her presence.
¢ — ° > . .
Bene. Then is court turn-coat:—But it 1

ladies, O1

certain, I am loved of all , only yous ce]
and I would [ could find in my heart that I had not
a hard heart: for, truly, I love non

Beat. A dear happiness to women; they w yuld
else have been troubled witha pernicious suitor. |

thank God, and my cold blood, | am of your hu-
mour for that; I had rather hear my d
a crow, than a man swear he loves me.

’

Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind!

er

1 1 , i saa )
so some genticman or other shall scape a predesti-
nate scratched face.

: } i ! ; ’ , “
Be wv. Scratching could not make it worse, an

*twere such a face as yours were.

Well, you are ar -rot-teacher.

Bene. Lrare pa

Reat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a bea
of yours. :

Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your
tonzue;: and so good a continuer: But keep your

a ee. ee
way o’ God’s name: I have don
Beat. You always cnd

old.

‘1 ‘
WiLD 2 Jalil

s trick: Iknon

ou of

D. Pedro. This is the sum of all: Le mato,—
signior Claudio, and sienior Benedick,—my dea:
friend Leonato, hath invited youall. I tell him, w
shall stay here at the least a month; and he

(1) Quarrelsome fellow, (2) Trust,

a" 4

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

   
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
    
  
    
 
   
 
  
     
    
 
   
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
    
     
  
 
 
  
    
     
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
    
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
  
 
 

119

heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer :
[ dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his
heart.

Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be
forsworn.—Let me bid you welcome, my lord:
being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe
you all duty.

D. John. I thank you: I
but I thank you.

Leon. Please it your grace lead on?

D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato ; we will go to-
vether. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio.

Claud, Benedick, didst thou note the daughter
of signior Leonato ? :

Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her.

Claud, Is she not a modest young lady?

Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man
should do, for my simple true judgment; or would
you have me speak after my custom, as being a pro-
fessed tyrant to their sex ?

Claud. No, I pray thee, speak in sober judg-

ment.

am not of many words,

Bene. Why, i’faith, methinks she is too low fora
high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too lit-

le for a great praise: only this commendation I can
allord her; that were she other than she is, she were
inhandsome ; and being no other but as she is, I do
not like her

Claud. Thou thinkest, I am in s
thee tell me truly how thou likest her

Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after
her?

Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel?

Bene. Yea, andacase to putitinto. But speak
you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flout-
ing jack; to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and
Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall
a man take you, to go in the song?

Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that
eve | looked on. ;

Bene. 1 can see yet without spectacles, and I see
nosuch matter: there’s her cousin, an she were not

port ; I pray

-
i
,

,

possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in
beauty, as the first of May doth the last of Decem-
ber. ButIhope you have no intent to turn hus-

band: have you?

Claud. I would searce trust myself, though I had
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Bene. Is it come to this, i’faith? Hath not the
world one man, but he will wear his cap with
suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of three-
again? Go to, ’faith; an thou wilt needs
thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it,
and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is ree

k you,

score

turned to see
Re-enter Don Pedro.

D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that
you followed not to Leonato’s ?
~ Bene. I would, your grace would constrain me
to tell.

D. Pedro. i charge thee on thy allegianee.

Bene. You hear, count Claudio: I can be secret
as a dumb man, I would have youthink so; but on
my allegiance,—mark you this, on my allegianes:—
He isinlove. With who ?—now that is your grace’s
nart.— Mark, how short his answer is: —With Hero,

Leonato’s short daughter.
Claud. If this were so, so were it uftered.
Bene. Like the oldtale, my lord: it is not so, nor

‘twas notso; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.
Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God
forbid it should be otherwise,Fie aaa AT ed

an ee eee te,

 

geome ee

each bet cm Dig pe ne

120 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Act I.

 

but how,

D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady} D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach; teach it

is very well worthy.
Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, n
D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my tho
Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke n
Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths,
I spoke mine.
Claud. That I love her, I feel.
D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.

Bene. That I neither feel how she sh

Joved, nor know how she should be wort
opinion that fire cannot melt out of me ;
in it at the stake.

D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinat
in the despite of beauty.

And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

1y lord.
r}

4
lL.

ine. | Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord ?
my lord,| D. Pedro. No child but Hero, she’s his only heir
: Dost thou affect her, Claudio ?
Claud. QO, my lord,

When you went onward on this ended action,
ye\I look’d upon htr with a soldier’s eye,
That liked, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love:
But now I am return’d, and that war-thoughts
e heretic’ Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
( thronging soft and delicate desires,

l
Claud. And never could maintain his part, but!/All prompting me how fair young Hero is,

in the force of his will.
Bene. That a woman conceived me, I th
y

that she brought me up, [ likewise gi
humble thanks: but that I will have a

winded in my forehead, or hang my bu

invisible baldric,? all women shall pardon
cause I will not do them the wrong to mis!

I will do myself the right to trust none ;

fine is (for the which I may go the fin
live a bachelor.

Saying, I lik’d her ere I went to wars,
ink her ; D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently,
most| And tire the hearer with a book of words:

recheat! If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it;
le2 in an|And I will break with her, and with her father,
me. Be-| And thou shalt have her: Was’t not to this end,
rust any,| That thou becan’st to twist so fine a story ?
and the Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love,
r,) I will/That know love’s grict by his complexion !
Sut lest my liking might too sudden seem,

I
vale | I would have salv’d it with a longer treatise.

D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look |
with love. D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader

Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hun- than the flood ?

er, my lord: not with love: prove, that ever } rhe fairest rrant is the necessity :

ose more blood with love, than I wii! wet again| Look, what will serve, is fit: tis once,*® thou lov’st
with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-| And I will fit thee with the remedy.
maker’s pen, and hang me up at the door of | know, we shall have revelling to-night ;
brothel-house, for the sign of blind Cupid. [ will assume thy part in some disguise,

D. Pedro. Well, if-ever thou dost fall from this|And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ;
faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. And in her bosom V’jl unclasp my heart,
Bene. If l do, hang me in a bottie Lil cal d| And take her hearing prisoner with ihe force
shoot at me ; and he that hits :ne, let him be clap- An ncounter of my amorous tale:
ped on the shoulder, and cailed Adam.* bh afler, to her father will I bieak ;
D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try: At ie conclusion is, she snall be thine:

In time the savage bull doth bear the yole In practice let us put it presently. | Exeunt,

Bene. The savage bull may; but ever th ;
sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull’s horns,| SCENE I/.—.4 room in Leonato’s house. En-
and set them in my forchead: and let me be vilely ter Leonato and Antonio .

ainted; and in such great letters as they writ aie

Here is good horse to hire, let them signify unde Leon. How now, brother? where is my cousin,
my sign,—Here you may see Benedick the marr rson? Hath he provided this music ?

man.

“Int. He is very busy aboutit. But, brother, I

Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would’st|can tell you strange news that you yet dreamed

be horn-mad.
D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not s}

‘

quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this s]

Bene. I look for an earthquake too th
D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize
hours. Inthe mean time, good signior

repair to Leonato’s ; commend me to him,

him, I will not fail him at supper ; for,
hath made great preparation.
Bene. I have almost matter cnough
such an embassage ; and so I commit yo
Claud. To the tuition of God: From
\if I had it)—
D. Pedro. The sixth of July: Y«
friend, Benedick. ;

Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not: Th
your discourse is sometime guarded® with

ments, and the guards are but slichtly

neither: ere you flout old ends any further
your conscience; and so I leave you. [FE
Claud. My liege, your highness now m

good.

{3 The tune sounded to call off the di
(2) Hunting-horn, (3) Girdle.

not ol.
all hi Leon. Are they good ?
? ; }
hortly. nt. As the event stamps them; but they have
n. 1 of } ver, they show well ou ward. The prince

with the;and count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached’

Benedick, alley mm my orehard, were thus much overheard
and tel!|by a man of mine: Ihe prince discovered to Clau-
leed. he|dio, that he loved my niece your daughter, and

: ‘csi s os
meant to ackn wledge it this night in a dance;

in me for , HH fe t 1 her accordant, he meant to take
stad the | nt time by the top, and instantly break
| h ytY ’ tli 5 1 Oi It.
Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this ?
loving Int. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him,
ind question him yourself,
body of, Lear. No, no; we will hold it as a dream, till

*
ppears itself:—but | will acquaint my dauchter

in irac- Lt mae
basted on|Withal, that she may be the better prepared for an

examine | answer, il peradventure this be true. Go you, and
rif Bene. tell In ror ltl. | Several persons cross the stare.
lo me| Cousins, you know what you have to do.—Q,

aY QO yn Alans
cry you mercy, friend; you go with me, and ]

1S, \(4) The name of a famous archer. (5) Trimmed
\(6) Once for all, (7) Thickly interwovenwill use your + skill :-—Good cousins, have a car
SCENE filoow lnother

Enter Don John and C
What the goujere,' my lord !
thus ont of measure 8 ad ?

‘ : it. ther fore th:

blessing bringeth it ?
If nota present rem: dy

) born under Sa

but you must not n

> hath ta’en vou ni

which way looks

sail upon, that the pri
| .
himse ee and having obtained hi r,

   
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
    
    
  
  
 
  
    
  
    
   
    
    
   
  
      
    
  
   
    
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
    
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
    
   
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
   

ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 121

hath all the glory of my ove rthrow ; if I can cross

[ha ewnt. | him any way, L bless my yself every ‘way : You are
ee both ure, and will a ist me ?
a Con. To the de as my lord.

). John. Let us to the great supper; their

hy are you|Cheer is the greater, that Iam subdued: ?Would
; ' ‘he Cook were of my mind !—Shall we go prove
occ iy rn \ Pi to bi qagone }

it upon your lordship. [Exeunt,

it, what So
od ACT IL.
ient suf-
SCENE IL—A4 hall in Leonato’s house. Enter
(as thou Leconato, Antonio, Le ro, Beatrice, and others.
tL about to
mischief.| Leon. Was not count John here at supper ?
id when | int. | saw him not.
eat when Beat. Liow tartly that ¢entleman looks! I never
leisure -|Can him, but 1 am heart-burned an hour after.
nO man’s fiero. le is of a very mM lancholy disposition.
claw? no Beat. lie vw an excellent man, that were
ist in the mid-wav between him and Bene-
fall shoy : Gl is. too like an image, and says
trolment thing; and the other, too like my lady’s eldest
/ » Lhen half imnior Bene dick’s tongue in
t John’s 1 h, and half count John’s melan-
ifs 7 Vin st benedick’s face,—
\\ od lee, and a good foot, uncle
enough in his purse, such a man would
™ y woman in the world,—if he could get her
staal Leon. By my troth, mece, thou wilt never get
if thou | » shrewd of thy tongue.
I a | : is too curst.
< Beat. Too curst is more than curst: |] shall les-
: that way: for it is said, God
a. t Ci short horns; but to a cow too
j So. b too curst, God will send you
f. Just, if he : 1 meno husband: for the
1 DI , J am at him upon my knees every
} nd evening: Lord! I could not endure
beard on his face; I had rather

I . You may iight upen a husband, that hath

] . What should I do with him? dress him

{ make him my waiting eentle-

He that hath a beard, is more than a

+ had - and he that hath no beard, ts less than a

hat is more than a youth is not for

- and is less than a man, I am not for

9 . a fore, | will even take sixpence in

(the bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell.
Leon. Vell then, go you Into hell ?

t. No; but to the wate: and there will the

levil m like an old cuckold, with horns on
- nc LY. { ia f . heaven, Beatrice, cel
s+ tT. t to heaven; here’s no place for you maids : so
ocr liver [ up my apes, and away te@utt Pitér for
Tit heavens; he shows me where the bachelors
: : t, and the e live we; merry as the cay is long.

ao. | Int. Well, niece, (To He ro.] I trust, you will

j ] . Bi & as i}

et rutea vo our fath
1} Beal, Yes, faith; it is my cousin’s duty to make
; » | : } KF PE s if l ‘ 4 } t
yurtesy, and say, alirer, as 1 please you :—but

tn cou!

vet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fel-
this may low, or else make another courtesy, and say, Fa-
His tha : ; .
fher. as rt leas 7Lé.

that young start-up|°"""> i

prove food to my displ asure :

(1) The venercal disease, (2) Flatter,

(3) Dog-rose. (4) Serious,

QEee ee

LAG aoe

 

 

122 MUCH ADO AB

Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day
fitted with a husband.

Beat. Not till God make men of some other
mctal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman
to be over-mastered with a piece of valiant dust ?
to make an account of her life to a clod of way-
ward marl? No, uncle, ’ll none: Adam’s sons are

my brethren ; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in
my kindred.

Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told you:
if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know|
your answer,

Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if)

rou be not woo’d in good time: if the prince be t too|
important,! tell him, there is measure in every
thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me,
Hero ; wooing, wedding, and repenting, Is as a
Scotch j jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace : the first
suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as
fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly modest
measure full of state and anc ary 5 we then
comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into
the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he ar into
his grave.

Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

Beat, 1 have a good eye, uncle: I can see a
church by day- light.

Leon. The revellers are entering ; brother, make
good room.

 

|
|
|
|

, aS a

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Beuedick, Balthazar ;!

Don John, Borachio, Margarct, Ursula, and
others, masked,

D. Pedro, Lady, will you walk about with your)

friend ??

Hero. So you walk sofily, and look sweetly, and
say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and’ es \e-
cially, when I walk aw: ay.

D. Pedro. With me in your c ompany

Hero. 1 may say so, when I please.

D. Pedro. And when please you to say so?

Hero. When I like your favou r: for God de-

fend,? the lute should be like the case!
D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon’s roof; within
the house is Jove.
Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch’d.
D. Pedro. Spe: ik low, if you speak love.
[ Takes her aside.
Bene. Well, I would you did like me.

Marg. So would not 1, for your own sake; for I

have many ill qualities.

Bene. Which is one ?

Marg. I say my prayers aloud.

Bene. I love you the better ;
ery Amen.

Marg. God match me with a good dancer

Balth. Amen.

Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when
the dance is done !—Answer, clerk.

Balth. No more words; the clerk is answered.

Urs. I know you well enough; you are signior
Antonio.

Ant. Ata word, I am not.

Urs. 1 know you by the waggling of your head.

Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unles

the hearers maj

you were the very man: Here’s his dry hand up|

and down; you are he, you are he.

Jnt, Ata word, I am not.

Urs. Come, come; do you think I do not know
you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself?
(2) Lover. (3) Forbid.

1} Importunate.
(5) Accosted.,

‘4) Incredible,

   

OUT NOTHING. Act 1.

Go to, mum, you are he: graces will appear, and
there’s an Sal,

Beat. Will you not tell me W ho told you so.

Bene. No, you shall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are ?

Bene. Not now.

Beat. That I was disdainful,—and that I had m
good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales ;—Well,
this was signior Benedick that said so.

Rene. What's he ?

Beat. 1 am sure, you know him well cnough.

Bene. Not I, believe me.

Beat. Did he never make you laugh ?

Bene. 1 pray you, what is he?

Beat. Why, he is ‘the prince’s jester : a very dull
fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible’ slan-
ders: none but libertines delight in him; and the
commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany ;
for he both pleaseth men, and angers them, and
then they laugh at him, and beat him: I am sure,
he is in the fleet; I wo uld he had boarded? me.

Bene. When I know the gentleman, I’ll tell him

what you say.

Beat. Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or
two on me; which peradventure, not marked, or
not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy ; and
ithen there’s a partridge’s wing saved, for the fool
‘will eat no supper that night. [Music within.] We
| must follow the leaders.

Bene. In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave
them at the next turning
{ Dance. Then exeunt all but Don. John,

Borachio, and Claudio.

D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero,
and hath withdr awn her father to break with him
about it: the ladies follow her, and but one visor

remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his
bearing.® :

D. John. Are not you signior Benedick ?

Claud, You know me well; I am he.

D. John. Si gnior, you vo very near my brother
in his love : he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you,
dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth:
you may do the part of an honest man in it.

Claud. How know you he loves her?

D. John. I heard him swear his affection.

Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would
marry her bosuts ht.

D. John. Come, let us to the banquet.
| [ Exeunt Don John and Borachio,
| Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick,

But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.—
Tis certain so ;—the prince woos for himself,
'Friendship is constant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love:

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ;
| Let every eye negotiate for itself, ;
|And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch,

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood,’
|'This is an accident of hourly proof,
iW hich I mistrusted not: Farewell therefore, Hero!
Re-enter Benedick.
| Bene. Count Claudio ?

Claud. Yea, the same.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?

Claud. Whither?”
| Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own
|business, count. What fashion will you wear the
i arland of? About your neck, like a usurer’s

(6) Carriage, demeanour, (7) PassionScene I,

oo - : :
chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s

scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince
hath got your Hero, :

Claud. 1 wish him J joy of her.

Bene. Why. that’s spok en like an honest
80 they sel] bulloe ks. Butdid you think
would have served you thus?

Claud. 1 pray you, leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the hlind man:
*Lwas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat
the post.

Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. Bm rl.

Bene. Alas. poor ps f ywl! Now will he creep

into sedges. ———But. hat my lady Beatrice should

know me, and not ei ow me! T} sine ’s fool !—
lia! it may be, I go under that tit!e, becaus

Lilt pl ines

,

mit Lapa 1; butso; lam apt todo myself wron
lam n Lt so re puted : it is the base, the bitter dis-
position of Beatrice, that puts the world into h
| mn, and so gives me out. Well. [Pll be re-
venzed as I may.

Re-enter Don Ped Dis Le Pr. & td : onato,

. Pedro. Now, signior, where’s the count?
Did you see him?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I hav played the part of
lady Fame. 1 found him here as melancholy as ;
lodge in a warren; I told him, and, I think, I told
hin truce, that your grace had cot th od will of
this young lady; and I offered hira my company t
a willow tree, cither to make him a garland,
being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being

abe » be whi ped,
D. Pedro. To e whipped ! What’ s his fault ?
at The flat enne ression of a school-boy
who, being ové rjoy’d with finding a bird’s nest
shows it his companion, and he steals it.
DD). Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transercs-
sion? The transgression is in the stealer.
Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had

been made, and the garland too; for the garland
he might have worn himself: and the rod he might

have bestowed on you who, as I take it
his bird’s nest.
D. Pedro. 1 will but teach them to ing, and 1
store them to the owner.
Bene. Uf their
my faith, vou say ;
D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to
you; the gentlem in, that danced with lhe yr, ton

ver, she is much wronged by you.

Bene. ”s she misused me past the endurance ol

a block; an oak, but with one green leaf on it,

would en answered her; my very visor began to

assume life, and scold with her: She told me, not
thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince’s

jester: that I was duller than a great thaw; hud-
dling jest upon jest, with such impossible!
ance, upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark,
with a whole army shooting at me: she speak:
poniards, and every word stabs: ifher bre ath we re
as terrible as her terminations, there were no livin:
near her, she would infect to the north star. I
would not marry her, though she were endowed
with all that Adam had left him before he trans-
she would | ave made Lhe re rhe 5 h ive
turned spit; yea, and have cleft his club to make
the fire too. Come, talk not of her; you shall find
her the infernal Até? in good apparel. I would to
God, some scholar vould conjure her ; for, cer-
tainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet

convey-

gressed :

1) Incredible.
{2} (3) Interest,

2) The Goddess of Discord,

MUCH ADO ABOU’

drove fs

[ NOTHING, 129

in hell, as in a sanctuary ; and people sin upon pur-
pose, because they would go thither ; so, indeed, all

disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her.

Re-enter Claudio and Beatrice.

D. Pedro. Look, here she comes.

Bene. Will your grace command me any service
» the wor ld send ? I will go on the slightest errand
now to thr » Antipodes, s, that you can devise to send
meon; I will fets h you a toothpicker now from the
farthest inch of Asia ; bring you “i length of Pres-
ter John’s foot; fe teh you a hair off the great
Cham’s beard ; do you any embassage to the Pig-
mies, rather than hold three words’ conference w ith
this harpy: You have no employment for me?

D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good com-

;

Bene. O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not: Tcane
not endure my lady Tongue. [Evit.
U. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the
icart of signior Benedick.,
Be tt. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile: and
I gave him use® for it, a double heart for his single
me: marry, once before, he won it of me with
false dice, therefore your grace may well say, I
have lost it.

D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you
have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord,
lest I should prove the mother of fools. Ihave
brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seck.

Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore
re you sad

Claud. Not sad, my lord.

D. Pedro. How then? Sick?

Claud. Neither, my lord.

Beat. The count is neither sad nor sick, nor
merry, nor well: but civil, count; civil as an
range, and something of that jealous complexion,

D). Pedro. Vfaith, lady, I think your blazon to
be true; though Vl be sworn, if he be so, his con-
ceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy
name, and fair Hero is won: I have broke with
her father, and his good will obtained: name the
lav of marriage, and God give thee joy!

Leon. Count, take o — e my daughter, and with
her my fertunes: his ¢ » hath made the match,

nd all erace say Amen to ‘it :

Beat. Speak, c ount, *tis your cue,

Claud. Silence is » perfectest herald of joy: I
but little h PP, ‘il { could say how much,—
Lady, as you are mine, os am yours: I give away
mysell fi r you, and dote pon the e xchange.

‘Beat. Speak, cousin ; or if you cannot, stop his
mouth with a kiss, and let him net speak, neither.

D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat, Yea, my lord ; [ thank it, poor fool, it
keeps on the windy side of care :—My cousin tells
him in hi ‘ar, that he is in her heart.

Cie aa so she doth, cousin.

Beat. Good lord, for alhance!—Thus goes every
one to the world but sg and lem sun-burned:; Imay
sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! fora husband.

D. Pedro. Lady Beatrie e, | will get you one.

Beat. I wou'd rather " have one of your father’s
getting : Hath your grace ne’er a brother like you ?
Your father cot exce ile nt husbands, if a maid could
come by them.

D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady ?

Beat. No, my lord, unless I micht have another
for working-days Age grace is too costly to wear
every day :—But, I beseech your grace, pardon

~

(4) Turn: a phrase among the players,

  
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
 
  
   
     
   
         
       
      
    
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
   
   
     
   
    
    
    
     
  
  
     
    
       
    
    
  
 
   
      
     
    
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  

ye

om a a nas ee Sa aeSo ar Ree eee

CS a tn

St eee ad

TES

 

124 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

me; I was born Lo speak all mirth, and no matter. |
D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to]
be merry best becomes you ; for, out of question,

you were born in a merry hour.
Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother ery’d; but

then there was a star danced, and under that was

I born.—Cousins, God give you joy!

Leon. Nicce, will you look to those things I told
you of?

Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle.—s*y your grace’s
pardon. [| awit Beatrice.

D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
ry % ‘ a 4 | 4 .
Leon. There’s little of the melancholy element

in her, my lord: she 1s never sad, but when she
sleeps; and not ever sad then: for I have heard
my daughter say, she hath offen dreamed of un-
happiness, and waked herself with laughing.

D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a
husband.

Leon. O, by no means ;
ers out. of suit.

D. Pedro. She were an exceiicnt wife for Bene-
dick.

Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week
married, they would talk thermsely:

D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to gx
to church ?

Claud. To-morrow, my lord: Time gocs on
crutches, till love have all his rite

Leon. Not till Monday, my cear n, which j
hence a just:seven-night ; and a time too b:
to have all thines answer my

D. Pedio. Come, you shzke the head at so lone
a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Ciaudio, the

9
Voliohy nae T coil intl

time shall not go dullyt

she MOC ks ail h ir Weo-

1
t
|
A

. |

undertake one of Hercul ! 33} ’
ang clanior Ranedicl snort fi ] i 2

bring signior Benedick, and th B

a mountain of affection, the one with the other. |

would fain have it a match;
to fashion i‘, if you three will but minister st
assistance as I shall give you direction.

Leon. My lord, Iam for you, thouch it cost m
ten nights’ watchings

Claud. And I, my lord.

D. Pedro. And you too, gentle T

Hero. 1 will do any modest office, my |
he!p my cousin to a good husba

D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefull
husband that I know: thus far can { praise him:

he is of a noble strain,’ of approved \

confirmed honesty. I will teach you h to hu-
mour your cousin, that she shall fall in Tov
Benedick:—and [, with your two helps, will

practise on Benedick, that, in despite of bis quick

;

wit and his queasy?
with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid ts no
longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we
are the only love-rods. Go in with me, ind I

tell you my drift. fg

SCENE II.—Another room i

}
Enter Don John and Borachio,
“7 ,° } 1]

D. John. It is so: the count Claudio shall marry
the daughter of Leonato. :

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.

D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment
will be medicinable to me: I am sick in dis p.ea-
sure to him; and what
affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst
thou cross this marriage ?

Bora. Not honestly, my
that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

(2) Fastidious,

stomacn, he shall fall in lov

a, onato’s Jr

al ‘ :
soever comes athwar»t Nis

lord: but so covertly

‘1) Lineage, (3) Pretend,

 

     

  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
  
  
  
    
   
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
    
  
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
    
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
     

Act IL.

D. John. Show me briefly how.

Bora. (think, I told your lordship, a year since,

‘how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the

| wailing gentlewoman to Hero.

| D. John, I remember.

| Bora, I can, at any unseasonable instant of the

inight, appoint her to look out at her lady’s cham-

ber-window.

| D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of

this marriage ?

| Bora. ‘The poison of that lies in you to temper,

iGo you to the prince your brother: spare not to

itell him, that he hath wronged his honour in mar-

rying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do

you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale,

such a one as Hero.

| D. John. What proof shall I make of that ?
PRora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex

Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: look you

~ ?
for any other issue ?
D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour

iny thine.

a meet hour to draw
he count Claudio, alone: tell them,
intend’ a kind

Pora. Go then, find me

Don P

ecro and

t you know that Hero loves me;

f zcal both to the prince and Claudio, as—in love
of your brother’s honour who hath made this
mateh; and his friend’s~reputation, who js thus
Nike to be eozened with the semblance of a maid,—
‘hat you have discovered thu They will scarcely

believe this without trial: offer them instances ;

h shall bear no less Likelihood, than to see me
t her chamber-window ; r me call Margaret,
ag Margaret term me Beorachio; and

rit them to set this, { 1: very nicht before the In-
Td 1: > in mean time, I will so
n the matter, that Hero shall be absent: and

ere shall appear such sceming truth of Hero's
lovalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance,
1 all preparation overthrown.
D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can,
[ will put it in practice: Be cunning tn the work
this, and thy fee is a thousand dueats.
Jora. Be you constant in the accusation, and
cunning shall not shame me.

PD. John. I will presently go learn their day of
rriace. [Exeunt,

CENE Il].—Leonato’s Garden. Enter Bene-
dis k a id al Boy .
R | =
i Hlgenio!
Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book; bring
tn ) e in the ore dl ”
Roy. Tam here already, sir.
ef I kno that:—but I would have thee
henee, and here again. [Fait Boy.]—I do much
ler, that one man, seeing how much another
1isa fool vy n he dedicates his bchavicurs to
I, afl he hath laughed at such shallow
fol 1 others, become the areument of his own

y falling in love: and such a man is Clau-
‘known, when there was no musie with

him but the drum and fife, and now had he rather
} } . .

the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when
he would have walked ter mile afoot, to cee a TOC d

}

armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake,
carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was
wont to speak plain, ane to the purpose, like an
hones! man, and a soldier: and now is he turned or-
4} aq — co % y ae ¢ sap +f

{ lographet - his words are a yery fantastical ban-
quet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so
converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell ‘
iI think not; I will not be sworn, but love mayScene ITI. MUCH ADO
transform me to an oyster; but Pll take my
on it, till he have made an oyster of me. }

never make me such a fool. One woman is {

yet I aim well: another is wise; yet I am wel]

BB akdd OTD
be in one woman, one woman shall not come in
grace, Rich she shall be, that’s certain: wi
Pil none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen h
or I'll never look on her: mild, or come not
me; noble, or not 1 for an an cl: of good ¢
course, an excellent musician, and her hai
be of what colour it pl
und mohsieur Love! I will hide me in the ar!

another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all

please God. Ha

1
Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and C! 10.
D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this musie ?
Claud. Yeu, my good lord:—How stiil
evening is,
As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony !
D. Pedro. See you where Ben lick h th
himself?
Claud, O, very well, my lord: the music e1

We'll fit the kid-fox! with a penny-w

i

Enter Balthazar, with »

D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar we'll hear th

song again.
Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a vy
To slander music a

D. Pedro. It is the witness stil]

To put a strange face on his own perfection: —

I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no m
Balth. Because you talk of wooi |
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit

To her he thinks not worthy ; yet he w
Yet will he swear, he loves.

D. Pedro. N y, pray tl
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argum«
Do it in notes.

Balth. Note t befor
There’s not a note of mine that’s w

dD. Pedro. Why, these are ve crou i I

ST Irs :
Spcas

Note, note, forsooth, and noting! [ AY
Bene. Now, Divine « rn ; his |
ed'—Is it not stranve, that shi 4

hale souls out of men’s bodies ?—VWe!

niy money, when all’s a

Balt

Balth. Sigh no more, ladis
Men were deccivei
One foot in sea, and one on s
To one thine constanl vey
7 hen ; /
Bi [ let t} { ‘
Ind be ’ f Alit' nel
Converting "ty mjlds
Into, Hey nonny, nonnt
II.
Sing no more ditlies, sin
CF cemps so dull and heary;
The fraud of men Was VET SO,
pince summer fu sl apa lea
Then sich nol 0, (WC.
D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song.
Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.

D. Pedro. Ha? no; no, faith; thou singest w

enough for a shitt.

(1) Young or cub-fox, {2) Longer,

i, Ail,

 
   
   
   
      
  
 
   
 
  
    
  
 
  
   
   
 
  
 
   
   
   
   
    
 
 
   
       
 
 
   
    
   
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
    
   
 
 
 
    
 

OUT NOTHING. 125

Bene. [Aside.] An he had been a dog, that
ve howled thus, they weuld have hanged

{
im: and I pray God, his bad voice bode no mis-
(

{ as lief have heard the night-raven,
]

i
me what plague could have come after it.

redro. Yeu, marry; [To Claudio.]—Dost
u hear, Balthazar? 1 pray thee, get us some
eilent music; for to-morrow night we would

‘ } ; ;
Wat tne iaay

iero’s chamber-window.

\ !
Palth. The best I can, my lord.

Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exeunt Balthazar

stc.] ,Come luther, Leonato: What was it

told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice
love with mnior Benedick ?
( O,ay:—Stalk on, stalk on: the fowl] sits.

‘fo Pedro.] TI did never think that lady
ve loved any_man.

i ». No, nor I netther: but most wonderful

iould so dote on signior Benedick, whom
hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to

Bene. ts’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner?

| Aside.

Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what

of it: but that she loves him with an en-
clion,—it is past the infinite of thought.
i). Pedro. Mav be, she doth but counterfeit.
Cl . Fal like ¢
] © God! counterfeit! There never was
a ion came so near the life of pas-
Ve! if
}), Pedro. Why,what effects of passion shows she?
( 1. Bait the hock well; this fish will bite.
{ Aside.
Leon. What efieets, my lord? She will sit you,—
rd my d hter tell you how.
( ;i in le |
I. ij , pray you? You amaze
| 1} t her spirit had been in-
il assaults of affection.
Lom. 3 lf have sworn it had, my lord ;
Benedick,
{ should think this a gull, but
Whit led fellow speaks it: knavery
, hide itself in such reverence.
. Lic bath ta’cn the infection ; hold it up.
| dside
D. Pedro. Wath she made her affection known
- ie. }
j . No: and swears she never will: that’s
{ id, °Tis true, indeed: so your daughter
2 i i. eax he, that have so oft encoun-
hiin ih scorn, write to him that I love him ?
Leon, Th ys she now when she is beginning
write to him: for she’ll be up twenty times a
lit; and there will sit in her smock, till she
writ a sheet of paper :—my daughter tells
11
Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, re-
mber a pretty jest your daughter told us of,
Leon. O'!—When’ she had writ it, and was
ding it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice
: | ; ;

Leon. O!' she tore the letter into a thousand

l{-nence: railed at herself, that she should be so

immodest to write to one that she knew would flout
r: I measure him, says she, by my own spirit ;

,

I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea,

’ SiOUL
! Lilie M rh Til re hi i ] should,

’

Claud, Then down upon her knees she falls,

(3) Beyond the power of thought to conceive,RS en ee

—

TA

aes N mete

 

Sng emma

   
  
 
 
  
 
  
    
   
    
  
    
 
  
   
  
   
 
 
   
      
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
     
  
    
   
  
  
 
 
   
 
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
    

 

26 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Act IT,
‘weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, Benedick advances from above.

1

: |

eas eet Benedick |! } God give me patience ! 2 sida
curses :—0 517 é } Bene. This can be no trick: the conference wis

sadly borne.*~—They have the truth of this from
‘Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, 7
affections have their full bent. Love me! w hy,
e be requited. I hearhow lam censured : i
I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the
et {love come from her ; ; they say too, that she will
lruther die than give any sign of affection. —I did

Leon. She doth, indeed; my daughter says so:
and the ecstasy’ hath so much overborne her, that
my daughter is sometimes afraid she will do a des-!
perate out ag to herself; It is very true.

D. Pedro. It were ood that Benedick knew of| on
it by some other, if she will not discover it.

laud. To what end? He would make

a of it, and torment the Pa lady worse ee iia | :
D. Pedro. An he should, were an alms to ert think to marry must not scem proud ;—
ee : : y a 1 ear the < S.{
hang him: she’s an excelle nt see lady ; and, out be ‘Pr. ; ire th i tha it peas al a ir detrac — ‘ Ws
of : ili suspicion, she is virtuous. ‘an put them to mending ney say, the lady is

fair ; ?tis a truth, I can bear them witness : and vir
'Luous ;—’Lis so, { cannot re prove it; and wise, but
for loving me:—By my troth, itis no addition to her
wil ; nor no great argument of her folly, for I will
be horribly in love with her.—I may chance have
|somn odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on

Claud. And she } is exceeding wise.

D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick.

Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating
sn so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that|
blood hath the victory. Iam sorry for her, as ] have
‘ust cause, being her uncle and her gu: rdi: in.

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotaze a " “3 : _ ico 2 cone fea a etl
on me; I would have daff’d? all other respects, and lot _ rut o , no a on alter ? he aan
‘ ’ : iV) wlC MCAL iS ULN, LIK 7: aoe ; re

made her half myself: I pra ay you, tell Benedick|: a mi a “ yo it : rat ue anno yo
of it, and Lend arhot he will s in his age: snail quips, ane sentences, and these
Lzon, Were it good, think you? paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the ca-
Claud. Hero thinks sure ly, she will die: for she {eer of his humour? No: the world must be reopes.
says, she will die if he love her not - and she will iti When I dh Bet oo 9h die a bache ee did not

1 epee. : h ii 4 om
die ere she makes her love known - and she will grishernty cre married oo

heck Reatrice : a odikiae
die if he woo her, rather than she will ’bate on b aaa oe di ys ae ’s a fair lady; I do spy
preath of her accustomed crossness. ome marks of love in he

D. Pedro, She doth well: ifshe should make ten- Enter Beatrice.
der of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it ; fo:
the man, as youknow afl, hat hac ontemptible? spirit. Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you
Claud. He is a very proper* man. come in to dinner. .
D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward} Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
happiness. Beat. took no more pains for those thanks, than
Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.| you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful,
D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks|I wou!d not have come.
that are like wit. | Dene. You take pleasure in the message ?
Leon. And I take him to be valiant. Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upona
D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the|knife’s point, and choke a daw withal:—You have
managing of quarrels you may say he is wise ; for)no stomach, signior: fare you well. | Exit.
either he avoids them with great discretion, or un-| Dene, Ha! ygainst my will I an sent to bid
dertakes them with a most oar ra fear. you come lo dinner—there’s a double meaning in
Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily|that. J look no more pains for these thanks, than
keep peace; if he break the ae ace a ought to|you look pains to thank me—that’s as much as to
enter into a quarrel with fear and tre ml ling. jsay, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as
D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth) th: ink s:—If I do not take pity of her, I am a vil-
fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some ‘lain: if I do not love her, lama Jew: I will go
larce jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for} vet her picture. [ Exit.
your niece: shall we go see Benedick, and tell)
him of her love ? —>—
Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it} .
out with good counscl. ACT ITI.
Leon. Nay, that’s impossible ; she may wear her | SCENE I.—ILeonato’s Garden. Enter -Her
heart out first. BS ebeteh ciailienal
D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your! io ee
daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick| Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour :
well ; and I could wish he would mode stly examine} There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice —
himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a! Proposing® with the prince and Claudio:
lady. | Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.| Walk in the orchard, and our whole ciscourse
Claud. Ihe do not dote on her upon this, | will ‘Is all of her: say, that thou overheard’st us:
never trust my expectation. (Aside. | And bid a s eal into the pleached bower,
D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for} Where hon y-suckles, ripen’d by the sun,
her; and that must your daughter and her gentle-| Po bid the sun to enter ie favourites,
woman Carry. The sport will be, when they h ld} Made proud by princes, that adv: ance their pride
one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no sue ‘h| Arainst that power that bred it:—there will she
matter; that’s the scene that I would see, which| hide her, :
will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to/To listen our propose: this is thy office
call him in to dinner. [.Aside. |Beor thee well in it, and leave us alone.
[Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato, Marg. Vil make her come, I warrant you, pre-
sently, ; (Exit,
(1) Alienation of mind, (2) Thrown off,

3) Contemptuous, (4) Handsome, (5) Seriously carried on, (6) Discoursing,Scene ?. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 1137

Hero, Now, Ursul. seenin 12K seees
As we do trace t} oe 7. when Beatrice doth come, | It were a better death than die with mocks ;
tall ice this alle y uD and Gown, Which is as bad as die with tickling
ur " st ve of B inde ‘
vn en I \ r : neh be of Benedick : Urs. Yet tell her of 4 hear what she will say,
oe him, let it tbe thy part Hlero. No ; rather I will go to Benedick,

a

st tow Benedick And, th ily, Pil de vise some geet ae
Is sick in lore wit h Bénivice : of this matter To stain 3 | th nee eed
Is little Cupid’s ¢ ralty arrow made ne wan 1 ny oe : fone a
That o - Seen by he ur ‘Non begin : aa i. 0 de tot do vane ee
» tNOW Dein 5 _ Urs. QO, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
Enter Ca behind. (HL, re be so muc h without true judgment
' aving so swift and excellent a wit,
For look where Beatrice, like a la ipwing _runs \s she Is priz’d to have, ) as to re fuse.
Close by the oe to hear our confers uce oo rare a gentleman as signior Benedick.
Urs. The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish | , //ero. He is the only man in It aly,
Cut with her ‘gold n Oars the silver stream, \lways excepted my dear Claudio.
And greedily devour the treacherous bait | _ Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam
So angle we for Beatrice * who even now | Speaking my finey ; Signior Be nedick,
Is couched in the woodbine coverture For shape, for be ‘aring, argument,‘ and ¥ ralour,
Fear you not my part of the dialogue. | Goes foremost in report through Italy.
Hero. Then go we near he r, that her ear lose Hero, Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
nothing ' Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.—
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it— When are you marrit d, madam ?
[ They advance to the bower. Hero. M hy, every d ay ;—to-morrow : come, go
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disd uinful oi
I know, Sie spirits are as coy and wild Pil show thee some attires ; and have thy counsel,
As haggards of the rock. Which is the b ‘st to furnish me to-morrow.
Sut are you sure, Urs. She’s im’d,* I warrant you; we have
That Soni dick loves Beatrice so « ntirely ? <— ight he r, Mm di Aun.

Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed|.. He a If it prove so, then loving goes by haps :

lord. ; Some Cupid kills wi ith arrows, some with traps.

Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam (Lveunt Hero and Ursula,

Hero. They did entreat ~ to 7 unt her of it; Beatrice advances
But I pe ‘rsuaded them, if they lov’d Benedick, Real. VV) a — eee a
Te wish him wreatle wii dies in. beat, \\ hat fire 1s in mine ears? Can this be true?
Aud maner tn tht Ti ania know of it. St ind I conde mind for pride and scorn so much ?

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Vontempt, farewell é and maiden pride, adieu!
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, No glory lives behind the back of such,

As ever Beatrice shall couch upon 7 And, Benedick, | ve on, I will requite thee ;

Hero, O god of love! I know, he doth deserve Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ;

As muchas may be yielded to a man: I{ thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
But nature neve r fram’d «woman’s heart - lo bI ‘ Our luvea eA — holy band :

Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice : po OF en Ss iy) Snow .< serve; and I 7
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eves, Believe it betier than reportingly, (Exit.
Misprising? what they look on; and her wit SCENE Il.— 7 ro nin Leonato’s house. Enter
Values ge highly, that to her : Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,

Nor take no shape nor project of aflection, D, Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be
She is so self-endeared. consummate, and then I go toward Arragon.

Ure. Sure, I think so: Claud. Vil bring you thither, my lord, if you'll
And therefore, certainly, it were not good vouchsate me, a
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in

Hero. Why, you speak truth: | never yetsaw man, the new gloss of your marria; C, as to show a child
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur’d, his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. T will only
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fae’d, be bold w ees lor his company ; for, from
She’d swear, the gentleman should be her sister; [the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic, Ul mir h: | ¢ hath ss ice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed ; ‘tring, and the little hangman dares not shoot at
If low, an agate very vilely cut: him: he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds: ongue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his
If silent, why, a block moved with none. tongue speaks
So turns she every man the wrong side out ; | Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.

And never gives to truth and virtue, that | Leon. So say 1; methinks, you are sadder.
Which simpleness and merit Mle seth, Cl wud. I hope, he be in Jove. :
es. Sure, sure, such cat ‘ning isnotcommendable. D, Pedro. Hang him, truant; there’s no true
Hero. No: not to be so odd, and from all fashions, | drop ; — in him, to be truly touch’d with love:
s Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: the be sad, he wants money.
Bat who dare tell her so? el should speak, | Bene. have the tooth-ach,
She’d mock me into air; O, she would laugh me D. Pedro. Draw it.
Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Bene. Hang it! ; ;
Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d _ iad laud. You must hang it first, and draw it after
> sichs st wardaly ; vards,
Consume away in sighs, waste in : | PD, Pedro, What? sigh for the tooth-ach ?
1) A species of hawk, (2) Undervaluing. | 5). Prenewd arith biediime
3} Ready, (4) Conversation, { (5) Ensnar’d with birdlime,

   
 
  
     
     
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
   
  
    
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
  
  
    
 
   
  
   
  
 
   
 
 
  
     
  
 
 
 
   
 
   
    
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
   

7 a a Ce ee Tee Ceroneae

SS or ee eee

    
 
 
  
    
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
    
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
   

128 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Act Ill.

~

fees

+

} |

Pare |
BM Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm? lholds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp

| Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but|to effect your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill
ae th he that has it. spent, and Jabour ill bestowed !
F tie Claud. Yet say J, he is in love. | D. Pedro. Why, what’s the matter?
hi dea D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in| D. John. I came hither to tell ek and, cir-
ei him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange dis-|cumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long
guises; as, to be a Dutchman to-day; a Frenchman/a talking of,) the lady is disloyal.
to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at} Claud. Who? Hero?
Ro tMe ss once, as a German from the waist downward, all] D. John. Even she ; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero,
fi . slop ;! and a Spaniard from the hip upward, nojevery man’s Hero.
eae doublet : unless he have a fancy to this loolery, a Claud. Disloyal ?
| it appears he hath, he is no fvol fur fancy, as you| . John. The word is too good to paint out her
Biles would have it appear he is. wickedness ; I could say, she were worse; think
bi Claud. If he be not in love with some woraan,| you of a worse title, and 1 will fit her to it. .Won-
f there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat|der not till further warrant: go but with me to-
i

Ee *

 

o’mornings; what should that bode ? night, you shall see her chamber-window entered ;
f D. Pedro. Hath any manseen him at the barber’s?|even the night before her we dding-day : if you love
pi Claud, No, but the barber’s man hath been seen|her then, to-morrow w¢ d her; butit would better
;

iy with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath] fit your honour to change your mind.
already stufled tennis-balls. ( 1. May this be so?
a Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by D. Pedro. { will not think it.
1 | the loss of a beard. D. John. you lare not trust that you cee, cOon-

{

ip D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with eivet: can|fess not that you know: if you will follow me, I
i you smell him out by that? vill show you enough; and when you have seen
W Claud. That’s as much as to tl i more, and heard more, proceed accordingly.
youth’s in love. Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should

i D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melan-|not marry her to-morrow; in the congregation,
Bey 4 choly. where I should wed, there will I shame her.
end Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain
! D. Pedro, Yea, or to p Lint him (? for the|her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.

tt which, I hear what they say of him. D. John. Twill disparage her no farther, till you
| Claud. Nay, but his jesting : - which now ‘ec imy will es: bear i coldly but ull midnight,
ys crept into a lutestrin , and 1 i} .jand let the issue show itself,
ha D. Pedro. Indeed, th tLtells ah vy tale f him: ce . VU day untowardly turned !
conclude, conclude, he is in love. f . O mischief strangely thwarting !
Claud. Nay, but I know who tov im. D. John, O placue right well prevented !
DD. Pedro. That would J] know too: Iw ant. » Wil ¥t say, When you have seen the sequel,
one that knows him not. [Ereunt.
Leas 3, and h itl ex it lin de- 5 a a
wie ai ik 1 “ip , ms Ve CENE ii l—s l street. ¥ Enter Dogberry and
D. Pedro. She shall be buried wi Pao y é CS, Wu tie Watch
wards. ae Doarb, Are you d men and true ?
Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach } . ea, oF é€) it were pity but they should
Old signior, walk aside with me: | } djsul ulvation, body and soul. — ;
eicht or nine wise words to ik to you, which Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for
these hobby-horses must 1 ear, them, if th hould have any allegiance in them,
|£xreunt Benedic! t Leo ng chosen for the prince’s watch,
D. Pedro, I r my Lil ~ break with him abou V Ci . \\ ll, { ive Lnem their charge, Me ishbour
Beatrice. Dorberry. ;
Claud. "Tis even so: ITlero d M ave Dorb. First, who think you the most desartless
by this played their parts with B rice ; and niy 10 constable :
the two bears will not bile on nother, when they | FV ate. Hueh Oateal , sir, or George Seacoal ;
meet. or they can write and read,
Enter Don John. / ». Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. Gad
D. John. My lord and bri } . God 1% you. ha 1 DICSS ad vou with a OK d namye : to bea well-
D. Pedro. Good den, brother. favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write
' 1). John. if you leisure served, [ would u} ind re |! com by nature.

with vou. ) IV atch. Both which, master constable,——
D, Pedro. In private? Dogb. You have; | knew it would be your an-
D. John. If it please you;—yet count C] jojswer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, cive Gad
iN may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him. |thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your
}). Pedro. What's the matier ! writing and re ling, let that appear when there is
D, John. Means your lordship to be married to-|no need of such vanitv. You are thought here te

 

\
te morrow ? | 7'o Claudio.|be the most senseless and fit man for the constable
DPD. Pedro. You know he does. of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern: this
D. John. 1 know not that, when he knows what/is your charge ; you shall comprehend all vagrom
I know. men: you are to bid any man stand, in the prines’s
Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you/name.
discover it. i 2 Wat A. Llow if he will not stand ?
D. John. You may think I love you not; let Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let 4
that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that/him,go; and presently eall the rest of the wate
I now will manifest >for my brother, 1 think, he|/together, and thank God you are rid of a knave,
if | Ferg, Ifhe will not stand when he is bidden, he
Bl (1) Large loose breecl.es, (js none of the prince’s subjects,Sétene LIT.

Dogb. True, and the; y are to

eddle with none! now forw
is the | eat eubie ae felis a9 dak : a > - n¢ 7 nh rd r ith thy tale,
oben Shaper renten Hilitbe the watch oe bbl a Bora, Stanc the e close then under this penthouse,
talk, is most toler: ‘ble, OMe Me etetetar rit ne at and I will, like a true drunkard,
2 Watch. We will rather sle » than tal. Wwe A" oe a ~
know what belongs to a y ateh : aix; we é ate [4side.] Some treason, masters; yet
Dogb. Why » You speak like an anci nd mo a whe eles, is :
eiteatcho ts, a mee Oe Ke ct sind an ) hn a thoree ae I have earned of Don
should offend: only, have a care that + we bil! bel (eal tesco .

ew, iyytare a rv tis your i pel Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so
ouses, and bid thos e drun! m { oe. m

~ Wa oe I low if or : x rill not ‘Y ee bh) a ea nt ay eo rather ask, if it were pos-
Dogb. Whnhaa fat them alte Gh ¢ ee n , villany sh should be so rich; for wher such

ber; if they make vou not then the better answ Fi sat aaa ee a os poor pe Ney

you may say, they are not the men vou took emfor.| Con. 1% v hides at i is
Z ad A Udit. ONG é be

_ * We at. ieee hh Bo ‘, om pa a thou art unconfirmed ;? thou
Spates of Your fice token ia geet , that t shion of a doublet, or a ‘hat, or
Y) of yo ; no ‘rue man: and,/a cloak, is nothing'to a man.
for such kind of men, the less you meddle or mak Con. Yes, it is apparel
wit th them, why, the more is for your hon Bora Sven thar Gas

2 Watch. If we face kin ‘tn be thief . lly ee y a hb fa ] ae i

7 7 peraar tins a thief, lw Con , fo x a ishion is the feahion: se
1G a gg lg SS aaa Pa ord. Tush! T may as well say, the fool’s the
ENG Uys OF | _ oiice, you ma ul ool. Butseest tl ou not what a deformed thief this

think, they that touch pitch will be defiled: the/{ nis?

most peaceable way for vou, if vou dx thief Watch. T kno

is, to S t him show himself eat ia is An Pe eal 5 vile hief thi aye lhe a Eee wi Coen

of your company. | fr 8 pos fbihan T ihe lve file f bp es
a vat TE rele crac tts apaq| eee, & gentl man: T remember HS EEE,

einai Be eee 8

, 4 { is IND 3 vas the vane use.

Dogb. Truly, kis di a" hanga dog wil } thou ni ot, I say, what a deformed

meh more ree ot s cry in in hin | thi i fa shio mn ea ) how siddily he turns about

g ye ear i lery in the 1 , you ot bloods, be tween fourteen and five and

must call to the nurse, an 1 bi ier still if ee “ ymetime , fas! hioning them like Pharaoh’s

Watch. How uf the nurse bi p, and wil idiers in the ree chy * painting ; sometime, like god

nothearus? — ; Bel’s priests in the old church window ; sometime,

Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let tl Ke the shaven Hercules in the smirched* worm-

child wake her with crying; for the ewe that wil n tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy
not hear her lamb when it baes. will nev his club ?

a calf when he bleats Con. All ils [ see; and see, that the fashion
Verg. *Tis very true. _ out h pp rel than the man: but art not
Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, « thyself stddy ith the fashion too, that thou

sti ible, are to present the prince’s own | ns I shifted out of th y tale to tell me of the

you meet t the prince in the night, you m st i h
Verg. Nay, by’r lady, that I think he c Not so neit but know, that I have to-
Dogb. Five shillings to one on’t, with any m ht wooed Marg: ne "the lady Hero’s gentlewo-

that knows the statues, hi n, by t name of Hero: she leans me out at

not without the prince be wil for, mistress’ chamb enwininey: bids me a thousand
watch ought to oflend no man nd i od night,—lI tell this tale vilely :—I should
to stay a man against his will, ll thee, how the pa Claudio, and my
Verg. By’r lady, I think, it be so. aster, planted and pla ced, and possessed by my
Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters. ister Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this
an there be any matter of weight chances, cell up/amiab] encounter.

me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your own Con. And thought they, Margaret was Hero ?

and good night.—Come, neighbou a 0 ol “th m did, the prince and Claudio ;
2 Watch. Well, masters, we h our c} e ie dd vil my} master kne w she was Margaret ;

let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two | partly by his o: thi which first possessed | them,
and then all to bed. ly by the dark nio xht, which did deceive them,
Dogb. One word more, honest neighbour I}but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any

pre Ly you, Wi itch about signior Leonato’s d
the ‘wedding being there t
coil to-night : adieu, |

Cu, t

O-Torrow

1c viril int, I best ec

there Is a great
h you.

a} “yur a.
[Exeunt Dogbi rry and yerees.

Enter Borachio and Conrado

Bora. What! Conrade,—

Watch. Peace, stir not.

Bora. Conrade, I say!

Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow.

Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched;
there would a scab follow.

Con. 1 will owe thee an answer for that;

f

I thou

1) Weapons of the watchmen.
2) Unpractised in the ways of the world,

 

[ Aside.

ht

and

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

|

}

 
 
  
   
   
  
    
   
  
   
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
 
  
    
  
     
  
     
  
  
 
    
     
  
   
    
   
 
  
  
   
 
   
    
   
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
    
  
  
 
  
 
    
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 

129

i

ler that Don John hi .dmade, away went Clau-
nr aged : swore he would meet her as he was
appointed, next morning at the temple, and there,
the a ia congregation, shame her with
saw over-night and send her nome again

1 husband.

| Watch. We charge you in the prince’s name,
stand.
2 Watch. Call up the right master constable :
we have here recovered the most dangerous piece
of fs ‘chery that ever was known in the common-
wealth.

1 Watch, And one Deformed is one of them; [
know him, he wears a lock,

(3) Smoked,

} ( fore
at he s

ithout <

1
vn

4) Soiled, ,Ce ee eee

  
  
 
  
     
    
   
 
    
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
    
    
 
   
    
   
   
      
   
  
  
    
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
  

ET ay

9 TITEL AMIS TTT

+ RETF NP ET

130 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, let Lil,
Con. Masters, masters. Mare, Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s
2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed f forth, In no more sailing by the star.

J warrant you. | Beat. What means the fool, trow?
Con. Masters,— Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one
1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us) Itheir heart’s desire !

obey you to go with us, Hero. These gloves the count sent me, they are
ora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, |an excellent pei ‘fume.
being taken up of these men’s bills. | Beat. 1 am stufled, cousin, I cannot smcil. ;

Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you.} .Warg. A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly

Come, we'll obey you. [Exeunt. }catehing of cold.
Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how
SCENE IV.—A room in Leonato’s house. En-jlong have you profess’d up) rehension ?
ter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. Marg. K:ver since you left it: doth not my wit
3 = : become me rareiy £

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice,| Regt, It is not seen enouzh, you should wear
and desire her to rise. it in your cap.—By my troth, | am sick.

Urs. I will, lady. +1] Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus

Hero. And bid her come hither. Senedictus, and lay it to your heart; itis the only

Urs. Well. [i ait U rst ula. thing for aa Wu alm.

Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato’ were Tove. "Share tine prick’st her with a thistle.
better. o ; E beat. Benedictus ! why ae i you have

Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. {. 9me moral® in this Benedictus.

Marg. By my troth, it’s not so good; and I war-|  )yare, Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral
rant your cousin will s aay BO. meaning; I meant, plain holy thistle. You may
aM, ero. My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another ; think, perchance, that I think you are in love:
Pll wear none but this. inay, by’r lady, [ am not such a fool to think what

Marg. I like the new tire? within excellently, |] list: nor I lis . not to think what I ean; nor, in-
if the hair were a thought sade and your/deed, I cannot think, if | would think my he art
ae le a most rare fashion, faith. I Saw the out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you

uchess of Milan’s gown, that they praise so. |will be in love, or that you can be in love: yet

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. 'Benedick was such another, and now is he become

Marg. By my troth it’s but a night- gown in re-|, man: he swore he would never mz ury ; and yet
spect of yours: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced | inow, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat with-
with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side-|o,{ wrudging : and how you may be converted, I
sleeves,? and skirts round, underborne with a bluish ||: now not; but methinks, you look with your eyes
tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excel-jas other women do.
lent fashion, your’ s is worth ten on’t. | Beat, What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ?

Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart) Marg. Nota false gallop.
is exceeding heavy! ; .

Marg. ’ Pill be heavier soon, by the weight of Re-enter Ursula.

a man. | Urs. Mad - a “
: rs. Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the
Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed ? tomtor Reneiliek ‘Don Jol i rant
: ie. Ck .1.1,.. 9|Signior Benedick, Don John, na all ‘the gallants
Marg. Of what, lady ? of speaking honourably ?| ¢ he sa (deh Seb we,
é r doke ee / ‘\of the town, are come to fetch you to church.
Is not marriage honourable ina beggar? Is not ti fa (ee :

S po, ero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg
your lord honourable without marriage? I think | ood irenis hse ~ [Exeunt.
you would have me say, saving your reverence, — ; eis et
a husband: an bad thinking “do not wrest true|SCENE V.—Another room in Leonato’s house.
: eaking, Ill offend nobody: Isthereany harmin—| Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.

e heavier or a husband ? None, I think, an if} ; ie ie oo
o be the right husband, and the right erin < oiled r-|. Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh-

,

wise, ’tis light, and not heavy: Ask my lady Bea-|bour ?

trice ‘else, fore she comes. | Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confi-
idence with you, ‘th: it decerns you nearly.
Enter Beatrice. | Leon. Brief, { pray you; for you see, ’tis a busy
time with me.
Hero, Good morrow, coz. Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.
Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. | Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.
Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in the sick} Leon. What is it, my good friends ?
tune ? | Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off
Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. ithe matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not

Marg. Clap us into—Light o’ love ; that goes| so blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were ;
without a burden ; do you sing it, and .’ ll dance it. ‘but, in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows.

Beat. Yea, Licht 0’ love, with your heels bail Ver: we Yes. l th: ink ( rod, I am as hone »st as any
then if ey " husbs ind have stables enough, you’ll/man living, that is an old man, and no honests
see he shall lack no barns. ‘than i, -

Marg. O illegitimate construction! Iscorn that} Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras
with my heels. neighbour Verges. nares

Beat. Tis almost five o’clock, cousin; ’tis time| Jeon. Neiehbour s, you are tedious,
you were ready. By my troth I am exceeding ill;—| Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we

ey ho! jare the poor duke’s officers; but, truly, for mine

Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? own >
: part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could
Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.* find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship,

Leon, All thy tediousness :
rm an ee (2) Headedress. eon 1y tediousness on me! ha!
$) Long-sleeves, (4) i, ¢, for an ache or pain, (5) Hidden meaning,MUCH ADO ABOUT NoTHING, 124
Dorb. Yea, tind iuwwtamn «9 Alavine

twere a thousand times more! Dit, s
than ’tis: for I hear as good exclamation or ws 4 Chey gare make his aioe
nt 1 your) Claud. O, what men dare do! what men ma do!
worship, Qs Of any man in the city; and though I} what men daily do! not knowing what they te
be but a poor man, I am elad to hear it, Bene. How now ! interjections 2? Why, then
Verg. And so am I, some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he !
Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Claud. Stand thee by, friar :-+Father by your
Verg. Marry, sir, Our watc] h losnight, except- leave ; : wees
ing your wWorship’s presencc

9 : Joy ‘ . : |
lave ta’en a couple Will you with fre

» and aEeoeat eee soul
of as arrant knaves as any in \I

ssina, Give me this maid, your daughter ?
ai virile ea hoe « ee 0) 3
Dob. A good old man, sir; he will be talking - Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
as they savy, When the age isin, the wit is out: i

os an 5; Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose
God help aus! it is a world to see! —Well said

i ea ® ‘ ’ worth,
riaith, neichbour Ver es :—well, God’s a good!May counterpojse this rich and precious gift.
man; an two men ride of a hoi e, one must ride D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her ragain,
behind :—an honest soul, if Ha, sir; by my troth} Claud. Sweet prince, you Jearn me noble thank-
he is, as ever broke bread - but, God is to be wor- fulacss,— od
shipped : all men are not alite; alas, rood neioh-| The? *» Leonate e her back again ;
hour ! (sive nol this rotten or inge to your friend ;
Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too hort of She’s but the sien and semblance of her honour :
you. Bchold, how like a maid she blushes here
Dorb. Gifts, that God sives. UO, what authority and show of. truth
Leon. I must leave you. Can cunning sin cover itself withal !
Dorb. One word, sir: our wat h, sir, have, in-!Comes not that blood, as modest evide nee,
deed, comprehended two auspicious persons, and) lo witness siiple virtue : Would you not swear,
we would have them this morning examined before: All Xt that sec her, that she were a maid,
your worship. Py these exterior show: > But she is none:
Leon. Take their ex mination yourself, and bring She kn the heat of a luxurious? bed :
it me: | am now In ereat hast , aS IL Mma appeal He; blush is euiltines s, not modesty.
unto you. Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Dogb. It shall be suflicance. Claud. Not to be married,
Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.) Not knit my £0 ‘ to a porcred wanton.
| Leon. Dear 1 lord. you, in your own proof
Enter a Messencer. + ve vanquish vd the re sist ance of her youth,
” re 4 Se ae a \nd made « lefeat of her virginity,——
vi€SS, aay lord, they Stay ior you to give you Clik ’. I know what you would s say; If I have
d l tohter to her husband. “ ¥3

known her

Leon. I will wall! upon them; I am ready, You'll say, she di d embrace me as a husband,
Nosd. G [Lxewnt Leonato and Mi Fri NSC.) and so extenuate the ’forehand sin:

yf rO, food partner, go: eect you to aie No, Leonato
Seac i bid him brin pen an I never tempted her with word too }:; arge ;3
gaol; we are now t ? hamMingon lacs men. But, as a brother to his sister, show’d

we eae — must . it wis rye Bashful sincerity, and come te love.
Jogo. We will spare for no wit, I warrant vou:

glee s 7 on a wae 2) «aeeee, And seem’d T ever otherwise to you?
here’s that [Touching his forehead.] shall drive

r

4) : ' learned Claud, Out on thy seeming! I will write againstit:
some Ol them toa mnoncom: only eet the corned You seem to me as Dian in her orb;
eh oe choommunicalion, Aeel meet! 4. chaste owiti the hud fre 1 ha awh
me at the goal t But you are more intemperate in your blood

ae Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals
“ That rare in savage sensuality.
aGT IV. I7ero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so
. 7. . )
. ati a "y ‘aa ; oF fi ora f } i E l r D Wide »
SCENE I.—1 T — 7 Cl radin Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
Pe dro, ct JON, con ie, Ads ; PAA NENA D. Pedro. What should I speak ?
Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, &e. I stand dishonour’d, that have eone about
; , friar Prat is, be brie; only to the!To link my dear friend to a common stale.
Leon. Come, friar Francis, Lil : ? 4
form of marriage, and you shall recount their) Jeon. Are these things spoken? or do I but dream‘
| { ari ul Jaf esihil |
er | uties afterwards )). John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things
arte aaihialt einik, alas 3
én: Listas my re { urTy this are true.
iar. You come hither, my lord, to marry tl a : .
| + Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.
adcy ! }

Claud: No | Hero. _ True, O God!
Le n “To be marricd to her, friar; you come to Claud. Leonato, stand I here :
eon. Ma this the prince ? Is this the prince’s brother ?

murry her

9 hither to be marricd tol Is th ‘ro’s ? e our eyes our own?
Friar. Lady, faa acta Ber ee Le  fuce Her is so e what ef this, my lord?
oe Ao Claud. Let me but move one ques tion to your

ayier! If either of you know any inward impedi- : daughter ; kindl
ment why you should not be conjoined, I charge! And, by that fathe ‘tly and kindly power

itter i it you have in her, bid her answer truly.
ag Pte bos eg ay He, »? * hat ye I charge thee do 50, as thou art my child,
ee ee a’ : Hero. O God defend me! how am I beset !—
ao Pawel ‘wl a ‘ount ? | What kind of eatechizing eall vou this ?
tera F Cleud. To make you answer truly to your name,

. : }
‘ + tc . t} fe ine, (2) Lascivious, ‘ ‘ x . _e
I) Pe yaa oa (4) Remote from the business in hand,
(3) ACCNUOUS,

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
   
 
 
 
 
      
      
    
     
 
     
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
  
    
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
    
  
   
      
    
  
    
  
 
 
   
  
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
    
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 

Ss eeFNS wT

PRCA

 

 

) 32 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Act IV.

Hero, 18 it not Hero? Who can blot that name}

With any just reproach?
Naud. Marry, that can Hero;
Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue.
What man was he talk’d with you yesternight
Out at your wintow, betwixt twelve and one ?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
Hero. J talk’d with no man at that hour, my lord.
D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden.
Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear; upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count,
Did sec her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal? villain,
Confess’d the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

D. John. Fic, fie! they are
Not to be nam’d, my lord, not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language,
Without offence, to ufter them: thus, pretty lady,
Iam sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,

If half thy outward graces had been placed
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart!
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity !
For thee I’ll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eye-}ids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.?

Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point for

me? { Hero swoons.

Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink

you down ?

D. John. Come, let us go: these things, come

thus to light,
Smother her spirits up.
[Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio.

Bene. How doth the lady ?

 

|
|

Beat. Dead, I think ;—help, uncle ;—|

Hero! why, Hero!—Uncle !—Signior Benedick !—
friar!
Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
Death is the fairest cover for her shame,
That may be wish’d for.

Beat. How now, cousin Hero?
Friar. Have comfort, lady.
Leon. Dost thou look up?

Friar, Yea; wherefore should she not?

Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly|
7? - ¥ |

thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood /—
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
for did T think thou would’st not quickly die,

Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, |

Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev’d I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame ?°

O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ?

Why had I not, with charitable hand,

Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates ;

Who smirched* thus, and mired with infamy,

I might have said, No part of itis mine,
This shame derives itself from unknown loins ?
But mine, and mine I lov’d, and mine I prais’d,
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much,
That I myself was to myself not mine,

Valuing of her; why, she—O, she is fallen

(1) Too frée of tongue. (2) Attractive,
(3) Disposition of things

9"?

       
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

Into a pit of ink! that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ;
And salt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!
Bene. Sir, sir, be patient :
For my part, I am so attir’d in wonder,
I know not what to say.
Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied !
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night ?
Beat. No, truly, not: although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
Leon. Confirm’d, confirm’d! QO, that is stronger
made,
Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron!
Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie?
Who lov’d her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash’d it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her die.
Friar. Hear me a little ;
For I have only been silent so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: I have mark’d
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ;

| And in her eye there hath appear’d a fire,

To burn the errors that these princes hold

| Against her maiden truth :—Call me a fool ;

Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenor of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,

If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon. Friar, it cannot be:
Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damnation
\ sin of perjury; she not denies it :

Why seck’st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness ?
Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused of?

Hero. They know that do accuse me; I know

none:

If I know more of any man alive,

Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack merey !—O my father,

Prove you that any man with me convers’d

At hours unmeet, or that I vesternight

Maintain’d the change of words with any creature,
Re fuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
| Friar. There is some strange misprision® in the
princes,
| Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour ;
| And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
|The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
|W hose spirit s toil in {frame of villanies.
| Leon. I know not; if they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her
nonour,
|The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
| Nor age so eat up my Invention,
| Nor fortune made such havoe of my means,
| Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends
| But they shall find, awak’d in such a kind,
| Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
| Ability in means, and choice of {ric nds,

To quit me of them thoroughly.

Friar. Pause a while,
And let my counsel sway you in this ease.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead :
Let her a while be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:

(4) Sullied, (5) Misconception,Scene I.

Maintain a mourning ostentation ;
And on your family’s old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leon. What shall become of this
this do?
Friar. Marry, this, well carried,
behalf
Change slander to remorse: that is some rood
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain’d,
Upon the instant that she was accus’d,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus’d,
Of every hearer: for it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles! we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost,
Why, then we rack? the value: then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us
Whuiles it was ours:—So will 1 fare with Clau-
dio:
When he shall hear she died upon’ his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination ;
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit,
More moving-delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she liv’d indeed :—then shall h
(If ever love had interest in his liver, )
And wish he had not so accused her:
No, though he thoucht his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell’d fals
The supposition of the ladv’s death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
And, if it sort not well, you may conce:
(As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and reliwious life,
Out of all eves, tongues, minds, anc
Bene. Sienior Leon ito, let the friar advise you:
And though you know my inwardness* and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I wil! deal in this
As secretly, and justly, as your soul
Should with your body.

Leon. Being tha
The smallest twine may lead me.
Friar. ’Tis well consented ; presently away;

For to strange sores strangely they strain the
cure.—
Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day,
Perhaps, is but prolong’d; have patience, and
endure. [ Exe. Friar, Hero, and Leon.
Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all tl
while?
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. 1 will not desire that.
Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. 8,
Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin 1s
wrong’d.
Beat. Ah, how much might the man «
me, that would right her ! ¢ ala
Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it?
Beat. It is a man’s office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as
you; is not that strange ?

? What will
shall on her

or

i
'

mourn

p
,

}
i

| her

'

}

}

L injuries,

crief,

I flow in

is

]

j

eserve of

(2) Over-rate. (3) By.

1) While. ’
14) inti (5) Delude her with hopes,

(4) Intimacy.

 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
  

133

| Beat. As strange as the thing I know not: it
‘were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so
)Well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not;
| confess nothing, nor I deny nothing :—I am sorry
(for my cousin.

| Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.

| Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

| Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me;
and I will make him eat it, that says, J love not
hyYOu,

Beat. Will you not eat your word ?

Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it:
I protest I love thee.

Beat. Why then, God forgive me!

Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice ?

Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; I
was about to protest I loved you.
| Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that
none is left to protest.
| Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.

Beat. You kill me to deny it: farewell.

Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
| Beat. 1 am gone, though I am here ;—there is
no love in you:—nay, I pray you, let me go.

Be LC. Be itrice,—

Beat. In faith 1 will go.

We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than

fight with mine enemy.
Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy ?
] Is he not approy’d in the height a villain,
that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kins-
woman ?—QO, that I were a man!—What! bear
her in hand® until they come to take hands; and
then with public accusation, uncovered slander,
unmitigated rancour,—O God, that I were a man!
| would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene. Wear me, Beatrice ;—

>
Henne,

>
sé
,

’
OMe,

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window? a
proper saying!
Bene. Nay but, Beatrice ;—

Beat. Sweet Hero!—she is’ wronged, she is

slandered, she is undone.
Bene. Beat—
Peat. Princes, and counties!® Surely a princel

testimony, a goodly count-confect ;7 a sweet gal-
lant. surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or
that I had any friend would be a man for my sake!
But manhood is melted into courtesies,® valour into
compliment, and men are only turned into tongue,
and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercus
les, that only tells a lie, and swears it:—I cannot
be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a wo-
man with grieving. ;

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice: by this hand I love
thee,

, Beat. Use it for my love some other way than
swearing by it.

Bene. Think you in your soul the count Claudio
hath wronged Hero?

Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a
soul.

Bene. Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge
him; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you: by
this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account:
‘as you hear of me, so think of ine. Go, comfort
your cousin: I must say, she is dead; and so fare-
‘well. [Exeunt.
(6) Noblemen. (7) Anobleman made out of sugar ,
'(8) Ceremony.134 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Wet V.

SCENE IL.—.1 prison. Enter Dogberry, Ver-) Verg. Let them be in band.!
ges, and Sexton, in gowns; and “the W atch, | Con. Off, coxcomb!
with Conrade and Borachio. Dog. God’s my life! w here’s ; the sexton? lIct

Dogb. ds our whole dissembly appeared ? ‘him write down—the prince’s officer, coxecomb.—

Verg. O a stool and a cushion for the sexton! 'Come, bind them :——Thou naughty ’varlet !

Sexton. W hich be the malefactors ? Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.
Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner. | Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost
Verg. Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibi-| thou not su: or ct my ye ars “ that he were here

tion to examine. to write me down—an ass !—but, masters, remem-

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be ber, that Iam an ass; though ‘it be not written
down, yet forget not that Iam an ass:—No, thou

examined? let them come before master ¢ onstable.
«| villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved

 

Dogb. Yea, marry, let them come before me. be |
What is your name, viond ? upon thee by good witness. lama wise fellow .
Bora. Borachio. and, which is more, an office r; and, which is more,
Dog. Pray write down—Borachio.—yY ours, a householder : and, which is more, as pretty a
sirrah i piece of flesh as any is in Messina; and one that
Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name ;5| knows the law, go to; and a = fellow enough,
Conrade. ' go to ; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one
Dogb. Write down—master gentleman Con- that hath two gowns, and every am handsome
rade. -_Masters, do you serve God ? about him :— -Bring him away. O, that I had been
Con. Bora. Yea , sir, we hope. Writ GOWN—an ass, [| Exeunt.
Dogb. Write dow n—that they hope they serve ot
God :—and write God first; for God defend but oe
God should go before such villains ace rs, It is ACT V
roved alre rady that you are little better than "fi ilse : F
fefin‘res!s and it will go near to be thought soshortly.|SCENE JI.—Before Leonato’s house. Enter
How answer you for yours elves Leonato and Antonio.
Con. Murry, sir, we say we are none. ieee : aa .
Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you;|, *4/"': If you go on thus, you ill kill yourself ;
but I will go about with him,—C ome you hither, '|And ’tis not wisdom, thus to second grict
sirrah; a word in your car, sir; I say to you, it is Against yourself.
thought you are false knaves. 1a 3 | Leon. I pray thee, tease thy counsel,
Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. W hic h falls into mine ears as profitless
Dogb. W ell, stand aside.—’Fore God, they are As water in a sieve: give not me counsel ;

foth ina tale: have you writ down—that they are/|+*°r } t no comforter delight mine ear,
nee? : ; :But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to Bring me a father, that so low’d his child,
examine ; you must call forth the watch that are| Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine,
their accusers. |And bid him speak of patience ;
Dogb. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way :—Let Measure tg wo the length and breadth of mine,
the watch come forth: —Masters, I charge you, in And let it answer every strain for strain ;
the prince’s name, accuse these men. eRe |As thus fc yr thus, and such a grief for such,
1 Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, . every lincame ent, bri inch, shape, and form :
the prince’s brother, was a villain. such'a one will smile, and stroke his be ard ;
Dogb. Write down—prince John a villain.— c ry—sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should groan,
Why this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother— Patch grief with proverbs ; make misfortunes drunk
: |With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me,

villain.
Bora. Mastcr constable,— And I of him will gather patience.
Dogb. Pray thee, fe llow, peace ; Ido not like| But there is no such man: For, brother, men
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief

thy look, I promise thee. n
‘Sexton. What heard you him say else ? Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it,
2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thou- Their counsel turns to passion, which before

sand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Would give prece ve tliat medicine to rage

Hero wrongfully. Fetter strong madness in a silken thre ad,
Dogb. ¥ lat burgh: ury, as ever was committed. Charm ache with air, and agony with words :

Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is. No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience
Sexton.

What else, fellow ? To those that wring under the load of sorrow ;
1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, ‘But no man’s virtue, nor sufficiency,
upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole} ‘o be so moral, when he shall endure
assembly, and not marry her. » like himself: therefore give me no counsel:
Dogb. 0 villain! thou wilt be condemned into |My griefs cry louder than advertisement.?
everlasting redemption for this. nt. Therein do men from children nothing differ.
Sidign What else? Leon. I pray thee, peace: I will be flesh and
2 Watch. This is all. i. blood ;
Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can For there was never yet philosopher,
deny. ‘Prince John is this morning secre tly stolen| Phat could endure the tooth-ach patiently ;
away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this However they have writ the style of gods, :
very manner refused, and upon the grief of this, And made a pish at chance and sufferance.
suddenly died.—M: aster const: ible, let these me n| “Int. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself :
be bound, and brought to ‘6 eonato’ Ss: I will vo iM: ike those, that do ofle nd you, sufle ‘Tr LOO,
before, and show him their examination. [ Exit. | Leon. There thou s peak’st reason: nay, I will

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned. do so.
5 ? ‘My soul doth tell me, Hero is belied ;

(1) Bond, (2) Admonition. ‘And that shall Claudio know, so shi ull the prince,Scene I, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 135
And all of them, that thus dishonour her. | Leon. B

Enter D m Pe ro and Cla ; | Ant. *tis no matter 3
on Pedro a laudio. 'Do not you meddle, let me deal i in this.
Ant. He re Guin s the prince, and Claudio, hastily.| D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake

ut, brother apn
ome,

D. Pedro. Good de n, good den. your patience
Claud, Good day to both of you. IMy heart is sorry for your daughter’s death ;
Leon. Hear you my lords,— But, on my honour, she was charg’d with nothing
Tieden We have some haste, Leonato, | But what was true, and very full of proof,
Leon. Some haste, my lord!—well, fare you| Leon. My lord, my lord,—
well, my lord:— : | WD. Pedro. I will not hear you.
Are you so hasty now ?—well, all is one. |, Leon. No?—

D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel. with us, good| Brother, away :—I will be heard —
‘ at }
d man. | «ant, And shall,

i
“Int. If he could right himself with quarrelling, Or some of us will smart for it.

}
|
‘

Some of us would lic low. [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio.
foo” } neato: tee )
: peta Who wrongs oP i Enter Benenick,
CON, Marry,
rhou, thoudost wrong me; thoudissembler, thou:| D. Pedro. See, see, here comes the man we went
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, to seek.
I fear thee not, Claud. Now, signior! what news ?
Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, Bene. Goo d di Ly, my lord.
If it sh ruld f ive your aoe such cause ot fear: is Pe, lro. Welcome, signior : You are almost
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. come to part almost a fray.
Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest aime: Claud. We had like to have had our two noses
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; napped off with two old men without teeth.
As, under p ne re ol age, to brag ), Pedro. Leonato and his brother: What
What I have done being young, or what would do, | think’st thou? Had we fought, I doubt, we should
Were I not! ail Know, Claudio, to thy head, have been too young for them.
Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me,| Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour.
That I am fure’d to lay my reverence by ; [ came to seek you both.
And, with gray hairs, and bruise of many days, Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee ;
Do challenge thee to trial of a man. for we are high “proof melancholy, and would fain
I say, thou hast belicd mine innocent child ; have it beaten away: Wilt thou use thy wit ?
Thy a r hath gone through and through her} Bene. It i is In my scabbard ; shall I draw it ?
he | D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ?
And she lies Rad d with her ancestors : | Claud. Never any did so, though very many
O! in a tomb wh re never scandal slept, have been beside their wit.—I will bid thee draw
Save this of her’s framed by thy villany. ‘as we do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us.
Claud. My villany ? ae . | .D. Pedro. As] am an honest man, he looks pale :
Leon. ' ~ Thine, Claudio; thine I say.| Art thou sick or angry ?
D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. Claud. What! courage, man! What though care
Leon. F My lord, my lord, = da cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill
I'll prove it on his body, if he d ire: ‘are. . 6
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,' ! Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an
His May of vouth. and blow m of lustyhood. ‘you charge it against me:—I pray you, choose
Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. }another subject. ;
Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill’d| Claud. Nay, then give him another staff; this
my child ; ‘last was broke cross. —
If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. | D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and
nt. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: |more: I think, he be angry indeed. i.
But that’s no matter; let him kill one first :— | Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.*
Win me and wear me.—let him answer me,— | Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Come, follow me, boy; come, boy, follow me:— Claud. God bless me from a challenge !
Sir boy. Pll whip vou from your Loining? fence ; Bene. You are a villain ; I jest not:—I will make
Nay, as Lam a gentleman, [ will. it go od how you dare, with what you dare, and
leon ent — when you dare:—Do me right, or I will protest
Pn ‘Content yourself: God knows, I lov’d my!/your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady,
— nicee : and her death shall fall heavy on you: Let me hear
And whe ie dead. slandcr’d to death by villains: rom you.
. t dare as well answer 2 man, indeed, Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good
da rayta lsat . et D. Pedro. What, a feast? a feast?
OYA, ADEM, MAEZarts, & Brother Antony,—| Claud. Vfaith, I thank him ; he hath bid¢ me to
tat Id you content: What, man! I know!/a calf’s-head and a capon; the which if I do not

carve most curiously, say, my knife’s naugnt.—

\ t the weigh, even to utmost seruple :/Shall I not find a woodcock too ?

Fi ge at fashion-mon na boys, Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily.
ae i. ele eau fi it, deprave and slander, | D. Pedro. Vl tell thee how Beatrice praised thy
Ba antiely, and base outward h hideousness, wit the other day: I said, thou hadst a fine wit ;

z\ Bilsdhl . : :

And ¥ half a dozen dangerous words True, says she, a fine little one: No, ege ©: are

{ ST) aa : af : “- , > 4

tc they m oO hurt their enemies, if they durst, | wit; "Right, says she, @ great gross one mee zi -

; itl =a WH . I, a good wit : Just, said she, it hurts nobody:
nd this is all.

|
. | (3 z hallenge (4) Invited.
(1) Skill in fencing. (2) Thrusting. | (3) To give ac d )|

EERIE SIG Ee IRIE TEA

 

 

136 MUCH ADO ABO
Nay, said I, the gentleman is wise ;
she, a wise ’ gentleman :
tongues ; That I believe, said she, for he
thing to me on Monday night, w hieh, J he for
on Tuesday morning ; there’s a double a

swore a|!
Swore |

UT

Certain, said|kill me.
Nay, s aid I, he hath the| what your wisdoms could not discover, these shal-

ow {it
verh

   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
   

NOTHING, Act V,

I have deceived even your very eyes:

sols have brought to light ;

who, in the night,
eard me confessing to this

man, how Don

John your shethe r ineens sed? me to slander the lad

there’s two tongues. ‘Thus did she, an hour a | Hero; how you were brought into the orchard,

ther, trans- shape thy particular virtu es; ye t, atjand saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments ;

last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the pro- how you disgraced her, when you should marry

perest man in Italy. her: my villany they have upon record; which I
Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and|had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to

said, she cared not. 7 imy shame: the lady is dead upon mine and my
D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for al’|master’s false accusation ; and, briefly, I desire

that, an if she did not hate him de: adly, she would |nothing = the reward of a villain.

love him dearly : the old man’s daughter told us all.| D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through
Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him your bloo d?

when he was hid in the garden. | Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.
D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savag D). Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this ?

bull’s horns on the sensible Benedick’s head ? Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice
Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here dwell of it.

Benedick the married man. D. Pedro. He is compos’d and fram’d of trea-
Bene. Fare you well, boy ; you know my mind ; chery :-—
I will leave you now to your gos sip-like humour : And fied he is upon this villany.
you break jests as braggarts do their : lades, which,|. Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear
God be thanked, hurt not.—My lord, fo: ee many |in the rare semblance that I lov’d it first.
courtesies I thank you: I must diseontinue your| , Dogs. Ci bring away the plaintifis ; by this
company ; your brother, the bastard, is fled from our Sexton hath reformed signior Leonato of
Messina: you have, among you, killed a sweet and) itter: and masters, do not forget to specify,
innocent lady: for my lord Lac \ -beard, there, he| When time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
and I shall meet ; and till then, peace be with him.| erg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato,
; es a [Exit Benedicl ind 1 sexton too.
. £edro. 21S arnest. . :
4 i, iiak profound ak af and: Til sear- Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the Sexton.
rant you, for the love of Beatrice. Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes ;
D. Pedro. And hath challenged th That when I note another man like him,
Claud, Most sincerely. I may avofd him: Which of these is he ?
D, Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when h Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on
goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wi me. -
Enter Dogberry, Verges, and the Wateh, enti? L Art neh the slave, that with thy breath
~  Conrade and Borach Mii, mint a 19
vline inniocent child
Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but theni Bor Yea, even I alone.
an ape a doctor to such aman. Leon. No, notso, villain , thou bely’st thyself:
D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be; pluck up, my/H stand a pair of honourable men,
heart, and be sad!! Did he not say my brother \ third is fled, that had a hand in it
fled ? ills, Mile: | thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death :
Dogb. Come, you, sir; i justice cannot tame R 1 it with your high and worthy deeds ;
yo she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her ba-|’Ts ‘avely done, if you bethink you of it.
ance; nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite one: Claud. 1 know not how to pray your patience,
you must be looked to. ¢ et | must speak: Choose your revenge yourself ;
D. Pedro. How now, two of my brothers men| Impose? me to what penance your invention
bound! Borachio, one! Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not
Claud. Hearken to their offence, my lord! But in mistaking.
D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men D. Pedro. By. my soul, norI;
done ? . And yet, to satisfy this rood old man,
Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false re-|1 would bend under any heavy weight
port; moreover, they have spoken untrutl -|'That he’ll enjoin me to. x
condarily, they are slanders ; sixth l lastly, the: / i cannot bid you bid my daughter live
have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified un-| That were imp ssible ; but, I pray you both,
just things : and, to conclude, they are lying knavi the people in Messina ht
D. Pedro. First, lask thee what they have done: w innocent she died: and, if your love
thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and|' r ( tin sad inventio mn
lastly, why they are cor panseted 5 ind, to conclude, | Hi: in epitaph upon her tomb,
what you lay to their charg \nd sing it to her bones: sing it to-night:
Claud, Rightly reasone d, and in his own divi-|To- morning come you to my Saute’
sion; and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well| And since you could not be mj son-in law,
suited. ; . J Be j my nephew: my brother he ith a dau: rhter
D. Pedro. Whom have vou offended, masters,| Almost the copy of my child that’s deax :
that you are thus bound to your auswer? thi 'And she alonc Is heir to both o f us PO
learned constable is too cun) ling to be understood: Give her the ri rht you shoul tl have given her cousin
What’s your offence ? And so dies my revenge. :
Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to} Claud. : QO, noble sir,

mine answer; do you hear me,

‘1) Serious, (2) Incited.

and let this count) You

: a see ; "
over-kindness doth wring tears from me!

(S) Comman¢? (4) Acquaint,Scene II. MUCH ADO

I do embrace your ofler; and dispose
For henceforth of poor ( laudio,
Leon. To-morrow then I will e

xpe cl _ your comin
To-night I take

my leave. —This n; Lughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Vlarvaret,
Who, I believe, was pack’d in all this wrone
Hir d to it by your brother.

+

Bora. No, by my soul, she was not .
Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me:
But always hath been just ang l virtuou
In any thing that I do know by h er,
Dogb. Mor over, sir, (which, indeed, is not un-

der white and black,) this plair itiff here, the offen

der, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be re-
member d in his punishment: and also, the watch
heard them talk of one Deformed: they s iv, he
wears a key in his ear, and a lock h; inging by if
and borrows mone, in God’s name: the which hi
hath used so long, and never mid, that now men|
grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for Go ls
sake: pray you, examine him upon that point

I con. I thank thee for thy care and honest pain ;

Dogb. Your worship iks like a most ¢} inkt
and reverend youth ; ain God for you.

Leon. There *s for thy nNams,

Dogeb. God save the found ition!

Leon. Go, I discharce thee of thy pri ier, and
{ thank thee.

Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your yw
ship ; which, I beseech your worship, to correct
yourself, for the example of others. God | ) yor
worship ; l wish yor yvorship well: (
you fo health: I humbly give vou leay
and if a ms rry meeting may be wi 1. God
bit it.—C om: » Wi ighbor +

[Exeunt Doe erry, V« ri mi V\

Leon. ntil to-morrow morning, lords. vel]

“Int. Farewell, my lords ; we look for you to-

morrow.

D. Pedro. We will not fail

Claud. To-night Pll mourn + I

[Exeunt Don Pedro and ¢
Leon. Bring you these fellow n; we'll tall
with Marcaret,
How her acquaintance crew with t lew Iloy
SCENE I[.—Leonato’s Gai Enter B
dick and Margaret, meetine.

Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistre Na tj ce.
serve well at my hands, by hel; mi
of Beatrice.

Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in prais
of my beauty ?

Bene. In so high astyle, Marearet, 1 no man
living shall come over it: for, in most «
thou deservest it.

Marg. To have no man me over me? why
shall | always keep below st!

Bene. Thy wit is as « the greyhound’
mouth, it catches.

Mare. And your’s as blunt as the fencer’s foil
which hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A most ma nly wit, Marraret, it will n¢
hurt a woman; and so! pray thee, call Beatric
I give thee the bucklers.

Mare. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of
our own.

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must pu‘
in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous

weapons for maids.
Marg. Well, I will ec:
think, hath legs.

ll Beatrice to you, who,
[Exit Margaret.

(1) Ignorant. (2) Holiday vhrases,

 

ABOUT NOTHING,

 
 
 
  
 
    
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
    
 
     
   
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
    
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  

137

| Bene. And therefore will come.
The g rod of love, [Singing. ]
That sits above,
JInd knows me and knows me,
How pitiful I de serve ,—
[ mean, in singing ; but in tovind »—Leander the
cood swimmer, Troilus the { first employer of pan-

, and a w hole book full of these quondam car-
pe-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the
even road blank verse, why, they were never
so truly turned over and over as my poor “self in
Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme ; T have
[ can find out no rh lyme td lady but baby, an
Innocent } for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme ;
(| / babbling rhyme ; very ominous
not born under a rhyming
nnot woo in festival terms.2—

enter Beatrice.

ice, would’

(:
Oi a

love:
tried :
hyme:
endings: No, I was

‘
lL ca

st thoucome when I called
, and depart when you bid me.

you well now :—
that I came for,
hath passed between

s; and thereupon, I will

it foul wind, and foul wind
foul th, and fout breath Is noisome;
| 1

of lnts
But, ] must tell
my challenge ;
hear from him, or I will

And, I pray thee now,
i my bad parts didst thou first

ie word out
VW it :

undergoes?

which maintained
they will not admit
with them. But for
you first suffer love

a2 sood epithet! I do sufler
t] igainst my will.
al think ; : alas! poor
; | will spite it
that which my

if you spite it for my sake

- lo ve

© wise to woo peaceably.
is confession: there’s
one wise man among twenty that will pfiiise

instanee, Beatrice, that lived
bours: if a man do not
; own tomb e re h ; di CS, he shall
than the bell rings,

1
or]
vi

lve no it i Rio monument,

it. And how long is that, think you ?
tion ?—Why, an hour in clamour,
herefore, itis most expe-
1 Worm, his conscience,
on contrary, ) to be the
irtues, as [am to myself: So
ising myself (who, I myself will bear
rthy,) and now tell me, How
yth your cou
Bene. And how do you?
Beat. Very ill too.
Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there

(3) Is subject to,
SSe

—

RE

SR OL TIE. FOOLING

138
will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
Enter Ursula.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle;)

ronder’s old coil! at home: it is proved my lady |
ero hath been falsely accused, the prince and
Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the
author of all, who is fled and gone: will youcome,
presently ?
Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior ?

Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and)
and, morcover, I will go!

be buried in thy eyes

with thee to thy ankles g. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—The inside of a church. Enter

Don Pedro Claudio, and attendants with music|
, )
and tapers.

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato ?
eltten. It is, my lord.
Claud. [Reads froma scroll. |

Done to death by slanderous tongue:
Was the Hero that here lies :
Death, in guerdon? of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies :
So the life, that died with shame,
Lives in death with zlorious fame.

Ss

Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dunb.—

[Affixing it.

Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
SONG.

Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight ;
For the which, with songs of wo,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan ;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily :
Graves, yawn, and yield your dead,
Tiil death be utters dd,
Heavily, heavily.

Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night !
Yearly will I do this rite.
D. Pedro, Good morrow, masters ;
torches out:
The wolves have prey’d; and look, the gen-
tle day,
Before the wheels of Phebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray
Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you we il.
Claud. Good morrow, masters ; each his several
way,
D. Pedro. A let us hence, a
weeds
And then to Leonato’s we will co.
Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue
spe c ds.
Than this, for whom we render’d up this wo!
[Exveunt,

nd put on other

SCENE IV.—4 room in Leon ato’ s house. En-|

ter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Ur-
sula, Friar and Hero.

Friar. Did I not tel] you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accus’d
her,
Upon the error that you heard debated :
But Margaret was in some fault for ae 5
Although against her will, as it appea
In the true course of all the question.

{1) Stir (2) Reward,

 

put your) rp

 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Act V.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enfore’d
To call young Ci: audio to a reckoning for it.
Leon. W ell, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves ;
And when I send for you, come hither mask’d :
The prince and Claudio promis’d by this hour
To visit me :—You Iknow your office, brother ;
| ¥ou must be father to your brother’s daughter,
lAnd sive her to young Claudio. [Eveunt Ladies.
Aint. Which 1 will do with confirm’d countenance.
Bene. Yriar, | must entrfeat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, signior f
Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them.—
\Signior Leonato, truth itis, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; ’Tis most
truc,
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
Leon. ‘The sight whereof, I think, you had from
me,

From Claudio, and the prince; But what’s your
/

will
ee Your answer, sir, is enigmatical :
, for my will, my will is, your good will

Ma Ly stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d
In the estate of honourable mi riage ;—
‘In whi 4 good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leon. My y heart is with your liking.

Friar. And my help.
Here comes the prince, and Claudio.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio with attendants.

D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.
Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow,
Claudio ;
NW e here attend you; are you yet determin’d
To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter ?
Claud. " ll hold my mind, were she an E.thiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here’s the friar
aan [Exit Antonio.
D. Pedro, Good morrow, Benedick: Why, what's
the matte:
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and ¢ loudiness 7 ?
aud, ‘ think, he thinks upon the savage bull: —
Cush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And all E uropa shall rejoice at thee ;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,

| When he would play the noble beast in love.

Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low :
And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s
COW,
And got a calf in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.

) 4 ° : : ‘
Re-enter Antonio, with the Ladies mask’d

J , te ik eal
Claud. For this | owe you: here come other
reckonines.

Which is the lady I must seize upon ?
“Int. This same is she, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why, then she’s mine: Sweet, let me see
your face
Leon. No, that yoush all not, till you take her hand
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.
( em Give me vour hand before this holy friar ;

lam your Been d, if yor like of me
Hero. And when [| lived , | was your other wif

| : [ Unmasking.
And when you | ved, you were my other husband,
| Claud. Another Hero ?
| Hero. Nothing certainer
i}One Hero died defil’d : but I do live,
| And, surely as I live, 1 am a maid,Scene IF. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 139

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead !jit: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclus

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander|sion.—For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have

oe beaten thee ; but in that! thou art like to be my
Friar. All this amazement ean I qualify ; kinsman, live enbruise d, and love my cousin.

When after that the holy rites are ended, Claul. I had well hope -d, thou would’st have de-

I'll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death : nied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out
Mean time, let wo nder seem famili: ir,

of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer :
And to the chapel let us presen itly.

e chay which, out of que stion, thou wilt be, if my cousin

Bene. Soft and fair, friar.—Which is Beatrice? |do no L look e <ceeding narrowly to thee.

Beat. 1 answer to that nan ne ; |Unmasking.| Bene. Come, come, we are friends ;—let’s hare
Wi hat is your will ? a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten

Bene. Do not you love me our hearts, and our wives? heels,

Beat. No, no more than reason.| Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards,

Bene. Why. then your uncle, and the prinee,, Bene. First, 0? my word; therefore, play, mu-
and C laudio,

sic.—Prince, th lou art sad; get thee a wile, get

Have been deceived : for thi ¥ swore you did. thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend ‘than
Beat. Do not you love me f one Upped with horn.
Bene. No, no more than reason. ‘
Beat. Why then, my cousin, Margaret, and Enter a Messenger.
Ursula, : ‘Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’en in
Are much deceiv’d : for th y did swear you did. flicht, _
Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for) 4 nq pro ught with armed men back to Messina.
me. . Nonteh dena. Dene: ‘Think not on him till to-morrow ; Pll de-
Beat. Phey swore that you were well-nich dead vise thee brave punishments for hain + Steeda up,
for me. -_ pipers, [ Dance,
Bene. Tis no such matter :—Then, you do not [Exeunt.
love me ?
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. isis
Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the
gentleman. This play may b ju tly said to contain two of
Claud. And Pil be sworn upon’t, that he loves/the most spri zhtly characters that Shakspeare ever
her ; drew The wit; the humourist, the gentleman,
For here’s a ps iper, written in his hand, ann ‘the soldier, are i: bined in Benedick. Itis to
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, : lamented, indeed , that the first and most splen-
Fashion’d to Beatrice. did of these distinc tions, is discraced by unneces-
er And here’s another, sary profaneness ; for the goodness of his heart is
Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, meat. sufficient to atone for-the license of his
Containing her affection unto Benedick, tongue. The too sarcastic levity, which flashes out

iui A miracle! here’s our own hands against/in the conversation of Beatrice, may be excused

our —s ome, . will have thee ; but, by this|on account of the steadiness and friends hip so ap-

light, I take thee for pity. pare ent in her beh«yiour, when she urges her lover

Beal. | “anh i not de ny you -—but, by this rood|to risk his life by a chi alle nge to Claudio. In the

day, I yield — great persuasion; and, partly, to|conduct of the fab lo, however, there is an impe r-

save your life, for 1 was told you were in a consump-! fection similar to th: it which Dr. Johnson has point-

tion. ed out in The Merry Wives of Windsor :—the

Sere. Peace, 1 will stop your mouth.— second c ontriv: ince is less inge nious th: in the first : —

| Kissing her.|or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is be-

D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married|come stale by re tition. I wish some other method

man ? had been foun dt to entrap Beatrice, than that very

Bene. Vil tell thee what, prince ; a college of wit-| one which befere had bee ns successfully practised on
crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: dost! Benedick.

thou think, I care for a satire. or an epigram: No:!  Muc > “Ido About Nothing (as I understand
i *y « e MLC, . t 4 } :

if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear|from one af Mr. Vertue’s MSS.) formerly passed
nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do) under Mie itle of Benedick and Beatrix. Heming

propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur-|the player received, on the 20th of May, 1613, the
al that the world can say against it; and there-|sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as
fi re never flout at me for what I have said against/his majesty’s gi ratuity, for exhi biting six plays at
: | Hampton Court, among which was this comedy.

(1) Because. j STEEVENS,REG CEA

2 age Ta CaS Ee

MIDSUMMER-NIGHTIYS DREAM,

   
 
 
   
  
 
  
     
  
  
 
 
   
    
   
 
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
     
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
   

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Theseus, duke of Athens. ‘Oberon, king of the fairies.

E.geus, father to Hermia. Titania, queen of the fairies.
Lysander, ? es, oath Hernia. Puck, or Robin Good-fellow, a fatry.
Demetrius, 4 -Blossom, >

Philostrate, master of the revels to Theseus. hoberetl f fairies

Quince, the carpenter. | Moth, poe oe

Snug, the joiner. Mus wht seed,

Bottom, the weaver. Pyranus
Klute, the bellows-mender. This a
Snout the tinker Wa _ Characters in the interlude, per-
as fee t r ° l ; : ce Pe , Q
Starveling, the tailor. Moor nshine, 5 formed b yy the Clowns.
Lion,

Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, belrotiied to) Other faries attending their king and queen.

Theseus

veseus. mM ,
; ; ; /litendants SUS

Hermia, daughter to Egeus, in love w ith Lysander. } litendants on Theseus and Hippolyta.
Helena, in love with Demetrius. 7 Ber Athens, and a wood not far from it.

a _ anaes - “ ~ - mm!

ACT I. And interchang’d love-tokens with my child :
Thou ha ist by moon-licht at her window sung,
SCENE I.—Athens. 4 room in the palace of With feigning voice, verses of feigning love ;
Theseus. Hnler Theseus, Hippolyta, Philos- And s Mn the in pression of her fantasy
trate, and atlendants ne With bracelets of thy hair, rings, cawds,? conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats; messengers,
Theseus. Of strong prevailment in unharden’d youth:

With cunning hast thou fileh’d my daughter’s heart;

y .< ‘ . was ry? l - nhac ne t
Now, far lippolyta, our nuptial hour j i ra ‘ r op aient . which is due t to me,

Draws on apace; four happy days bring in te charge dle ae ed dae :—and, my gracious duke,
Another moon: but, oh, methinks, how slow eae eee eee before your grace
. ® ' : onsent ¢ marr tly Yor TT ortet.
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, ORE be? Beat 7, Demetrius,
’ “ [ beg the ancient privilege of Athens ;

Like to a step-dame, or a dowa ' | :
Long withering out a young man 3 revenue, |As she is mine, I may dispose of her :
ill be either to this gentleman,

Hip. Four days will g uickly steep themselves in|.) :
nights > Or to her death: according to our law,

 

Four nights will quickly aie away the.time ; cae diately it ided in that case. —
Afid thane moon, like to a silver bor |_, Lhe. Whatsay you, EHermia? be wavy 1, fair maid:
New bent in heaven, shall behold the nicht |To you your father should be as a god ;
Of ait ebldanhitics. One that ¢ ympos ‘d vour beauties ; yea, and one
The. Go. Philostrate, 'o whom you are but as a form in wax,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments ; By him imprinted, and within his power
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth ; | To leave the figure, or cishiqure i.
Turn melancholy forth to Bich rals, v eee orihy gedtiena™
The pale companion is not for our pomp.— |, aes Bet Sayeanders
(rit Plilostrate ae In himself he is:
Hippolyta, I woo’d thee with my sword, But, this kind, 4 ft ting your father’s voice,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries ; | he other n tbe he i the worthier.
Sut I will wed thee in another key, | Her. Iw ould may fat rlook’d but with my eyes
The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment

i >
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. | i.
OO

Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius. Her. I do entreat vour crace to pardon me,
E ae ; [ kn yw not by et it power I am made bold;

Lge. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke !| Nor how it may concern my modesty,

The. Thanks, good Egeus: what’s the news|In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts :

with thee ? IBut I bese a your grace tha I may know
’ % . . . ryst : . .
Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint i The worst tl may befal me in this case
: . } ; . . . ° . — ?
Against my child, my daught r Fermia.— If I refuse t ries Demetrius.
Stand forth, Demetrius; My noble lord, se Either to die the death, or to abjure
This man hath my con nt to marry he —_—— For ¢ ‘the s ee, y ol men. :
= ¢ ‘ rer y l ay . , : 5 . lr %} . °
Stand forth, Ly Sant l ‘— 0. my oracious duke, | 4 nere ee 4 ‘al . lie , question y our desires,
This hath bewitch’d the bosom of my child: jismow of your oath < examine well your blood
: : : ,

res Fie net can a wepewrame: | . - ae 1. r :
Thou, thou, Ly sander, thou hast given her rhymes, | V hether, if you yield not to your father’s choice,

‘1) Shows. | (2) BaublesLp

UL ey

knell

a

WY

is

3
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=
SDS

C/U bbe

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a. eZee a

 

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¢Scene J.

You can endure the livery of a nun;
For aye! to be in shady cloister mew d,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold ft
Thrice blessed the y, that master so thy
To undergo such m aiden pilerimage
But earthlier happy is the
‘Than that, whic} h, wit hering
Grows, lives, and dies, in sine
Her. So will I grow, so live, so die,
Ere I will yield my virgin pat ntup —
Unto his lordshi p, whose Eewishes yoke
My soul consents not to vive sovereir

| fruitless moon.

ir blood,

e distil ill’d,
on |

ros

thorn,
bl lessedne 35.6

iny lord,

h Virg!

Lhe. Take time to pause: and, by the next new
moon
(The sealing-day betwixt my love nd me,
“or everlasting bond of fellow p, )
Upon that d: iy e ither prepare to die,

For disobedience to vour father’s will:

Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he

Or on Diana’s altar to protest,

For aye auste rity single life.
Dem. Relent Liermia ;—And

yi ld

Thy crazed title to my certa
ys. You have her father’s love, Demetrius ;

Let me have Hermia’s: do you marry him.

Se ornful Lysand r! true, |

And what is mine my love sha

and

» Sweet .

in richt.

7
Eve.

And she is mine; and all my right of |
I do estate unto Demetrius.

Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv’d as he,
As well possess ‘d: ny love more than his ;:
My fortunes every way as fairly rank’d,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am belov’d of beauteous Hermia:
Why should not I then prosecule my right ?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head
Made love to Nedar’s a Luchti - Heler Ws
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dots s in idolatry
Upon this spotted? and inconstant man

The. I must confess, that | hav rd son
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereo!
But, being over-full of seif-affairs,

My mind ‘did lose it.—But, Demetrius, come:

And come, Egcus; you shall go with me,

I have some private schooling for you both.—
For you, fair He rmia, loc ts you arm your elf
To fit your fancies to your father’s will ;

yield you up

i

enuate, )

Or else the law of
(Which by no me

* Athe ns :

cans We may CXt

To death, or to a vow of single life.—
Come, my Hippolyta ; what cheer, my love ?
Dy metrius, and Eveus, go along

I must employ you in some busin .

. . . 1 . . oe. | : »
uunst our nuptial ; and conter with you

Ag
lw ft]

Of something nearly that concern

Ege. With duty and desire we fol
[Exeunt Th Hip. Ege. Dem, and train
Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek
: so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast

Her. Belike for want of rain ;
Beteem them? from the tempest of mine eyes,

Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did Ay
But, either it was different in blood

Her. O cross! too high to

mooth:

(3

1) Ever. (6) Bale.

(2) Wicked.
(4) Black, :

(5) . overs.

‘lars,

MIDSUMMER-N

Lysal ler
syoullicl,

» hath my love;

which I could we II

hee nthr: all’d to low 1

) Give, bestow. |

  
  
 
   
 
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
     
 
 
  
   
 
   
 
 
   
   
    
     
  
    
     
   
  
    
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
 
    
   
 
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
   

IGHT’S

Lys. Or else mise saat in respect of years ;
Her. O spite! too old to be engag’d to young !
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends ;
Her. O hell! to choose love by another’ seye!
_Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy i in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it ;
Making it momentary as a soun d,

DREAM. dt

Swit us a shadow, short as an y dream :
Brief as the light ni ng In the collied* night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say,—Behold !
‘he jaws of dar kne ss do devour it up:
0 quick bright things come to confusion.
Her, If then true lovers have been ever cross d,
It stands as an edict in destiny :
qT n let us t ‘ach our trial patience,
oecause it is a customary cross:
As due to lo e, as thoughts, "and dreams, and
Wishes, an l tears, poor fancy’s® followers.
Lys. A_good persuasion; therefore, hear me,
He rimid.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Ot great revenue, and she hath no child:

rom Athens is her house remote seven leagues ;
And she

respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
\nd to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us: if thou lov’st me then,
Steal forth thy father’s house to-morrow night ;

3
4
ind in the woo d,

Where I did 1

Po dd oieiaad

a league without the town,
t thee once with Helena,
to a morn of May,

met

There will J st ay for the
Her My good Lysander :
I swear to thee, by Cupid’s strongest bow ;
By his best arrow with the golden head ;
By simplicity of Venus’ doves ;
Gy that-which knitteth souls, and prospers loves ;
nd by that fire which burn’d the Carthage queen,
‘Vhen the false Trojan under sail was seen ;
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
in number more than ever women spoke ;—
in that same place thou hast appointed me,
{‘o-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
Li Keep promise, love: look, here comes
Lielena
Enter Helena.
Her, God speed fair Helena! Whither away?
Fel, Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-siars ;* and your tongue’s sweet
alr
\fore tuneable than lark to shepherd’s ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.

Sickness is catching ; O were favour’ so!

Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongueshould catch yeur toncue? sswee tmelody ;
Vere the world emi Demetrius being bated,

The rest Pl give to be to you translated,

O, te aa me how you look; and with what art

'You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart.

Her. 1 frown upon him, yet he loves me still.

| Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles

such skill!

I give him curses, yet he gives me love,
‘that my prayers could such affeetion

os !

HIler. The rnore I hate, the more he follows me.

Hel, The more I love, the more he hateth me,

Fler.
| Hel.

(7) Countenance,Se a ea ae nc ee

nd 7

     
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
   
    
  
   
   
    
  
 
   
    

ee

TS

a

SG FRET

 

nai

Her. His folly, Helena, ts no fault of mine,

   
 

142 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. Mek

ible comedy, and most eruel deach of Pyréimus and

Hel. None, but your beauty; ’would that fault;Thisby.

were mine !
Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my|
face ;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.—
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem’d Athens as a paradise to me :
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn’d a heaven unto hell !
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold
To-morrow night when Pha:be doth behold
Her silver visage in the wat’ry ¢ lass,
Decking with liquid pearl the blade d grass
(A time that love rs’ flights doth still conceal, )
Through Athens’ gates have we devis’d to steal,
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose- -beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet:
There my Lysander and myself shall meet:
And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes
To seek new friends and stranger companies,
Farewell, swect playfellow ; pray thou for u
And good luck erant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, L ysander we must starve our sight
From lovers? food, till | morrow deep midnight.
ifort Lic rm ia.
Lys. I will, my Hermia.—Helena, adieu :
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
[Exit Lysander.
Hel, How happy some, o’er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes
Sol, admiring of his qualities,
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is winge A C upid ps 1inted blind :
Nor hath love’s mind of any judgment taste ;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy hast
And therefore is love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil’d.
As waggish boys in game! themselves for swear,
So the Hoy love is perjur’d every whe re
For ere Demctrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne,
He hail’d down oaths, that he was only mine
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolv’d, and showers of oaths did melt,
I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight :
Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night,
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense :
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither, and baekavain. [Evit.

SCENE II.—The same.

9

)

4 room in a Collare.

Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, and

starveling.

Quin. Is all our company here ?

Bot. You were best to call them gencrally, man
by man, according to the serip.

which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in

our interlude before the duke and due he ss, on his}
j

wedding-day at night.
Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the
play treats on; then read the names of the actors ;

so grow toa point.
Quin. Marry, our play is—The * ost lamenta-

(1) Sport, 2) Eyes, (3) As if,

| Bot, A very good piece of work, I assure you,

land a merry. —Now, good Peter Quince, call forth
‘your actors by the scroll : Masters, spread yours
iselves.

| Quin. Answer, as I call you.—Nick Bottom,
ithe weaver.

| Bot. Ready
ceed

Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py
lramus.

Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?

Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly
for love.

Bot, That will ask some tears in the true per-
forming of it: If I do it, let the audience look to
their eyes; I will move storms, I will econdole in
To the rest:—Yet my chief hu-
;mour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely,
a cut in, to make all split.

‘The raging rocks,
‘With shivering shocks,
Shall break the locks
** Of prison-gates:

name what part I am for, and pro-

SoiIne measure,

}or a part to tear

** And Phibbus’ car
“* Shall shine from far,
ae

And make and mar
** The foolish fates.”
This was lofty !—Now name the rest of the play-
crs.—This is Ercles’ vein; a tyrant’s vein; ater
is more condoling.
| Quin, Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
| Flu. Here, Peter Quince.
| Quin. You must take Thisby on you,
| Flu, What is Thisby ? a wandering knight ?
| Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
| Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; 1
have a beard coming.

Quin. That’s all one; you shall play it in a
mask, and you may speak as small as you will.

Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby
too: I’ll speak in a monstrous little voice :—This-
ne, This ne,—s th, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy
i\Thisby dear! and lady dear !
| Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and,
\Flute, you Thisby.
| Bot. Well, proceed.
| Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
| Star. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby’s

|mother.—T om Snout, the ‘tinker,
| Snout. Here, Pe ter Quince.
| Quin. You, Pyramus’s father ;

myself, Thisby's

father ;—Snug, the joiner, you, the lion’s part:—

and, I hope, here is a play fitted,

| Snug Have you the lion’s part written ? pray

you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.
Quin. Pollan do it extempore, for it is nothing

|but roaring.

| Bot, Let me play t he lion too: IT will roar, that

‘I will do any man’s heart good to hear me: I will

roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar

| wain, Let him roar again.
uin. Here is “the scroll of every man’s name, |

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, vou
Ww ould frig ht the duchess and the ladies, that they
would shriek : and that were enough to hang us all,
| ll. That would hang us every mother’s son,
| Bot. I grant you, friends, if’ that you should
fright the ladies out of their Wits, they wceuld have
;no more discretion but to hang us: but I will ag-
igravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently

las any sucking dove; I will roar you an? ’twere
lany nightingale,Seen

Pyra

one shull see in a summer’s day :

ryentl

play Pyramus.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard
were I best to play it in?

Quin. Why, + what you will.

Bot. 1 will discharge it in either your straw
coloured be ard, your orange- -lawhy beard, your
pt arn -In-grain beard, or your French-crown-co-

r beard, your perfect ye low.

‘aoe Some of your French crowns have no hair
at all, and then you will nl iy bare-faced.—But
masters, hers are your parts : | I am to entre
you, request you, and desire you, to con them |
to-morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood
a mile without the town, by moon-lic} there will
we rehearse: for if we mect in the we shall
be dogg’d with compan and our devices known.
In the mean time I will drav t bill of properties
such as our play wants, I at you, fail me not.

Bot. We will me et; and there we may rehearse
more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains ;
be perfect; adieu.

Quin. At the duke’s oak we meet.

Bot. Enough : Hold, or cut bow-strings.? [ Exe

—
ACT II
SCENE I.—A wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy

  

  

él], MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM, 148

Quin. You can ple Ly ho part |

mus is a sweet-faced mi in;

eman-like man; therefore

rut Pyr amus for iCal] ld Robi

a& proper m in,

 

at one door, and Puck at another.

Puck. How now, spirit! whith

Fai.

] must

Over hill, over dale,

er wander you !

Thorough bush, thorough brier
)

Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorou,y
I do wander every where,

Swifter than the moones sp!

And I serve the fairy quet
To dew her orbs} uy pon t} eC
The cowslips tall her pens
In their gol a coats aa \
Those be rubies, fairy fave
In those fre ckl s live their

‘
go seek some dew-drops he

rh fire,

pnere 5
n,

Icell ;
loners be
OU Sec:
urs,
Savours:
re.

And hang ; pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
Farewell, noe lob* of spirits, I'll

Our gq

Puc

Take

ueen and all her elves come

heed, the queen come not w

k. The king doth keep his rev

be gone ;
here anon.

els here to-night:

ithin his sight.

For Oberon is passingell and wrath,

Becat

‘

ise that she, as her attendant,

A lovely boy, stol’n from an India

She n
And j
K nig!

ever had so sweet a chanceli

alous Oberon would have tl

it of his train, to trace the ft

hath
n king ;
ng:

re child

rests wild:

{

But she, perforce, withholds the loved boy,

Cc row

ns him with flowers, and m:

joy ‘

And now the y never mect in opal or green,

By fo
But t
Cree]

Fai.

Or el:

(1
(2
‘4

 

untain clear, or spangled star
hey do square -¢ that ail the

--lieht sheen,?®
}
ir Gives

) into acorn cups, and hide them there.

Either I mistake your sh
quite,
se you are that shrewd and k

) Articles required in perfor:
) At all events.

4) A term of contempt

ane and ] al ins
aL} Gna Tani

navish sprite,

ning a play.
(3) Circles.
(5) Shining.

a most abate |i
you must needs

;

ikes him all her

for lear,

in Good-fellow: are you not Ms
That fright the maidens of the villager
skim milk ; and sometimes labour in the quern,’
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,
\nd sometime make the drink to bear no barm ;°
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm: $
hose that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck
Lre not you he ?

Puck. Thou speak’st aright ;
I am tl} ‘al merry wanderer of the nicht.
I jest to Obe ron, and make him smi €,
When Ta fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal :
\nd sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl,
in very likeness of a roasted er ab ;
And, when she drink iS, age unst her ‘liy is I bob
And on her wither’d dew-lap pour the ale.

’

!|The wisest aunt, telling the s saddest tale,

Sometime for three-foot s tool mistaket h me:
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
tend tail r cries, and falls into a cough ;
Andihen the whole quire hold their hips, and lofle,
And waxen in their anirth, and neeze, and swear
\ merrier hour was never wasted there.—
gut room, Faery, ed comes Oberon.
Fai. .And here mn} mi tress :—’ Would that he

were gone!

SCEN E IT.—Enler Oberon, at one door, with his
train, and Titania, al another, with hers.

Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania.
Tita. What, jealous Oberon’? ’ Fairy, skip hence ;
[ have forsworn his bed and company.
Obe. ‘Tarry, rash wanton; Am not I thy lord?
Tita. Then I must be thy lady : But I know
When thou hast stol’n away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep of India ?
But bey t forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin’d mistre ss, and your warrior love,
oh Th heseus must be wedded ; and you come
Te : their bed joy and prosperity.
Obe. "Howe anst thou thus, for shame, Titania,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to The seus ?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering
night
~ 1 Perigenia, whom he ravished ?
nd make him with fair, 72glé break his faith,
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?
Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : :
And never, since the middle tags $ spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or on the beached margent of the sea
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls tl} 10U hast disturb’d our sport :
‘herefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck’d up from the sea
Contagious foes ; which falling in the land,
Have every pelting!® river made so proud,
That they have overborne their continents :!
‘The ox hath therefore stretch’d his yoke in vain,
T ’ plouga in lost his sweat; and the green corn
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain’d a beard:
The fol ld stands e mpty in the drowned field,
\nd crows are fatted with the murrain flock ; .

6) Quarrel. (7) Mill. (8) Yeast,
\ )) Wild apple. (10) Petty.
(11) Banks which contain them,[|
I

t

:
f

%
bp
t

}

{

et
‘

“eR | EIT OI

gees

 

    

144 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. Act If,

The nine men’s morris! is fap d up with mud;
And the quaint mazes in the w anton green
For lack of tread, are abdbtortishable
The human mortals want their winter here ;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest :—
Theretare the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,

That rhe umatic diseases do abound :

And thorough this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts

Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hyems’ chin, an icy crown,

An odorous chapiet of sweet
Is, as in mockery, set: The spring, the summer,
The childing? autumn, ang

summer buds

ry winter, change

Their wonted liveries; and the ’mazed world,
By their increase,* now knows not
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our di
We are their parents and original.

Obe. Do you ame nd it then; it lies in you:
Why should Titania cross her Oberon ?
I do but beg a little changeling bo}
To be my henchman.‘

Tita. Set your heart at rest,
The fairy land buys not the child of 1
His mother was a vot’ress of my order:
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip’d by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood ;
When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive,
And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind :
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gai
(Following her womb, then rich with my young

*squire, )

Would imitate: and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandi
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die
And, for her sake, 1 do rear up her
And, for her sake, I will not part with him.

Obe. How lone wi! hin this wood intend you stay
Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus’ weddine-day.
If you will patiently dance in our round,

And see our moon-licht revels, eo with us:
If not, shun me, and [| will spare your haunts

Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. |

Tita. Not for thy kingdom.—Fairies, away :

We shall chide downrizht, if I longer stay.
[ eae unt Titania and her train.
Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this
grove,

Till L torment thee for this injurv.—
My ventle Puck, come hither: Thou remember’st
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin’s bae
Ultering such duleet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her sone;
And certain stars shot madly from their sphere
To hear the sea-maid’s music.

Puck. I remember.

Obe. That very time I saw (but thou could’st not, ) |
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid ail arm’d: a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal, throned by the west
And loos’d his love-chan smartly from his nae
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts:
But I might sce youne Cupid's fiery shaft
Quench’d in the chaste beams of the w: iry moon;
And the imperial vot’ress passed on,

.

t A game played by boys,
2) Autumn producing lowers unseasonably,

1: 7 2 2 1 ft
WhICnN IS Whicn :

in maiden meditation, fancy-free,
Yet mark’d I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
it fell upon a little western flower,—
Before, milk-white; now purple with love’s
wound,—
And maidens call it, love-in-idleness,
Fetch me that flower ; the herb I show’d thee once ;
|The juice of it on slee] ying eyelids laid,
W il] make or man or : oman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fet ih me this herb: and be thou here again,
Ere i viathan can s wim a league,
Puck. V\l put a girdle round about the earth
Tn forty minutes. | Exit Puck,
Obe. Having once this juice,
|’ll watch Titania when she is asleep,
\nd drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
| T oa next thing at n she waking looks upon

 

Be on lion, bear, or wolf or bull,
Onn ddling monkey, or on busy ape, )
She shall pursue it with the soul of love.

And re I take this charm a from her sight
(As I can take it, with another herb,)

| Vil make he r render up her page to me.

But who comes here? J am invisible ;

And I will over-hear their conference.

Enter Ocean, Helena following him.

|' Dem. I love thee , therefore pursue me not,
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia ?

The one P’ll slay, the other slaycth me.
Thou told’st me, they were stol’n into this wood.

And here am I, and wood* within this wood,
Because I cannot meet with Hermia,
tlence, get thee cone, and follow me no more.

Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant ;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.

Dem. Do L entice you? Do I speak you fair?
rr do [notin plainest truth —
ell vou—lI do not. n r | cannot love vou?

;

Hel, And even for that do I love you the more.
al ur spaniel ; ae Demetrius,

| he more you beat me, I will fawn on you:

Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Nealect me, lose m¢ . only r.ve mec leave,
Unworthy as lam, to follow you.

| What worser place can I beg in your love
}(And yet a place of high respect w ith me, )
|Than to be used as you use your dog 7
Tempt not too much the } rat re fi of my spirit ;
lor 1 am sick, when I do look on thee.

Hel. And lam sick when I look not on you.
Dem. You do impeach’ your modesty too much,
''l'o leave the city, an d commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;

| 4] 4. >

Lo trust the opportunity of night,
And the 111 counsel of a desert place,
With the rich worth olf your virginity.

i . Your virtue is my privilege for that.
ight, when Id
herefore I think I am not in the ni oht:
| Nor doth this wood lack worlds of ¢ ompany ;
‘or you, In my respect, are all the world:
| Then how ean it be said, Tam alone,
| When all the world is here to look on me ?

Dem. Pil run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the merey of wild beasts.

lel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
| Run when you will, the story shall be chang’d ;

_

o see vour face,

i
}

|
i
|
i

ie Produce, (4) Page. (5) Exempt from love,
(6) Mad, raving, (7) Bring in question,Scene Il.
Apollo flies, and Daphne hoids

The dove pursues the griffin: t

Makes speed to catch the tiger:

  

MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. 145

the chase :
he mild hind
!

bootless spec d!

When cowardice pursues, and valour flies.

Dem. I will not stay thy questions; let me go:
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.

Hel. Ay, in the temple, in th

town, the field,

You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:

We cannot fight for love, as m
VW ce should be woo'd, and were

hh may do:
not made to woo.

I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
i‘ as
l’o die upon! the hand I love so well.

[E

unt Dem. and Hel.

Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leav

this grove,
}

Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.—

Re-enter Pucl

te

Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.

Puck. Ay, there it is.
Obe. I pr

Quite over-canopied with lush*

ay thee 5 vive if me,
I know a bank whereon the wik
Where ox-lips® and the nodding

l thyme blows,
violet grows:

woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses, and with eclantin

There sleeps Titania, some time of the ni

:

Lull'd in these flowers with dan

And there the snake throws her

Weed wide enough to wrap a fai

Ces al

And with the juice of this Ill streak her ey:

And make her full of hateful far

Take thou some of it, and see!

nm |

‘
i

nrouen LOIS wTove:

A sweet Athenian lady is in love

With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes ;
do it, when the next thing he espies
be the lady: thou shalt know the man

the Athenian garments he h

‘

|
Lif) ON.

Effect it with some care; that he may prove

More fond on her, than she upon her lov:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
Puck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do
$0. {Ka mi
SCENE ILl.—Another part of the 1 hh
Titania, wilh her bi
Tita. Come, now a roundel,* and a fai
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence

Some, to kill cankers in the mu

bac .

The clamorous owl, that night

ders

At our quaint spirits -®° sing me

Some, war with rear-mice® for their leathern win
To make my small elves coat: in

keen
id s , Kee]
'
ly hoots, and won-
now asicecp >; }

Then to your offices, and let me rest.

SONG.

1 Fai. You spotted snakes, with

Thorny hedge-hogs,

Newts,’ and blind-worms,? «
Come not near our J:

Chorus. Philomel, with melo:
Sing in our sweet lullaby ;
Ludlla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby :
NV ver harm, nor spell, nor Cit iii,
Come our lovely lady nigh ;

’ . +,
So, good night, wilh

,

1) By. 2) The greater cowslip. (3) Vicorous.
ta) BY ind of dance, (5) Bats, ‘°°. Sports,

doubli Lond
be not seen:

ly 710 WTO} , ;
ury I Lecre 3

ly,

;

lullaby.

}
|
|
'
|
|
}
}
!

|
|

Il.
2 Fai. Weaving spiders, come not here;
_ Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence :
Beetles black, approach not near ;
Worm, nor snail, do no offence.
Chorus. Philomel, with melody, &c.
l fai. Hence, away; now all is well:
One, aloof, stand sentinel.
|Eveunt Fairies. Titania sleeps.

Enter Oberon.
J

Ode. What thou seest, when thou dost wake,
[Squeezes the flower on Titania’s eye-lids.'
Do it for thy true love take: :
Love, and languish for his sake :
Be it ounce,? or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak’st, it is thy dear ;
Wake, when some vile thing is near. [Exit.
Enter Lysander and Hermia.
Lys. Fair re you faint with wandering in the
WoOOQd $
And to speak truth, I have forgot our way ;
‘ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
ind tarry for the comfort of the day.
Hier, Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed,

_
_

lor lL upon this bank will rest my head.
Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
’ne heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.

Her. Nay, good Lysander ; for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.

Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence ;
Love takes the meaning, in love’s conference.
| mean, that my heart unto yours is knit,
So that but one heart we can make of it:

‘wo bosoms interchained with an oath;
So then, two bosoms, and a single troth.
‘hen, by your side no bed-room me deny ;
For, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily :—
Now much beshrew my manners si my pride,
mia meant to say, Lysander lied.
sut, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off; in human modesty
ich separation, as, may well be said,
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid :
So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend :
I'hy love ne’er alter, till thy sweet life end !
Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
\nd then end life, when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest !
Her. With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be
press’d! [They sleep.
Enter Puck.
Puck. Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower’s force in stirring love.
Night and silence! who is here ?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear :
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid ;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground,
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, kill-eourtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe :!9

(7) Efts. (8) Slow-worms, (9) The small tiger,
(10) Possess 1
riin cinta

 

 

PONE iG eden .

  

MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM.

When thou wak’st, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid.
So awake, when I am gone ;
For I must now to Oberon.

Act Il.

Her, Lorena: ] Help me, Lysander, help me.
do thy best,
| To pluck this crawling y serpent from my breast!
[ Exit. An me, for pity !—-what a drea og Ww 7 ee !
: : rsander, look, how I do quake with fear :
Enter Demetrius and Helena, running, Methoust ht a serpent eat a heart away,
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.| And you sat smiling at his cruel prey :~
Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt|/Lysander! what, remov’d? Lysander! lord!
me thus. What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
Hel. O, wilt thou darkling’ leave me? do not so. Sa 1c Ik, where are you? speak, an if you hear ;
Dem. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go. pe ak, of all loves ; I swoon almost with fear.
Exit Demetrius. ’—then I well perceive you are not nigh:
Hel, O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! IE ither death, or vids (ll find immediately,
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies ;
For she hath blessed and attractive eye s. ;
How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears : | ACT Ii.
If so, my eyes are oftener or, than hers. Isa ENE I.—The same. The queen of fares
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear 3 lying oo Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom,
For beasts that meet me, run away for fear: | Flute, Snout, and Starveling.

   

  

{ Exit.

Coenen“! Sonne

Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius

Do, asa monster, fly my presence thus.

What wicked and disse »mbling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne?
But who is here ?—Lysander! on the ground!

Bot. Are we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous con-
venient place for our rehearsal : this green plot shall
|be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tyring-house
Desd? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound:— [and we will do it in action, as we will do it dines
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. ithe duke.

Lys, And run through fire I will, for thy sweet) Bot. Peter Quince,—

sake. [Waking.| Quin. What say’st thc ou, bully Bottom ?

Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art, | Bot. There are things in this come dy of Pyramus
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. land 7 hisby, that will never please. F irst, Pyramus
Where is Demetrius ? O, how fit a word |must draw a sword to kill Lose If; which the ladies
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword! lcannot abide. How answer you that?

Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so: | Snout. By’rlakin,? a parlous* fear.
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what! Star. I believe, we inust leave the killing out,

though ? \when all is done.

Yet Hermia still loves yee: then be content. | Bot. Nota whit; I have a device to make all

Lys. Content with Hermia? No:-I do repent |well. Write mea prologue: and let the prologue
The tedious minutes I with her have spent. seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords :
Not Hermia, but Helena I love: jand that Pyramus is not killed indeed: and, for the
Who will not change a raven for a dove ? more better assurance, tell them, that I, Pyramus
The will of man is by his reason sway’d ; ‘am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weave r: this will
And reason says you are the worthier maid put them out of fear.
Things growing are not ripe until their season: | Quin. Well, we will have
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason ; lit shall be written in eight

 

such a prologue; and
and six.

And ‘touching now the point of human skill, | Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in
Reason becomes the marshal to my will, ‘eight and eight.
And leads me to your eyes; where I o’e rlook Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ?
Love’s stories written in love’s richest book, | Star. I fear it, I promise you.

Hel, Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?|} Bot. Mast: ‘rs, you ought to cons ider with your-
When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn ? lselves: to bring in, God shield us! a lion among
Is’t not enough, is’t not enough, young mi in, lladies, is a most dreadful t] hing; for there is not a

That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deserve a sweet ‘look from De metrius’ e ye,
But you must flout my insufficiency ? Snout. Therefore another pr olo; cue must tell he
Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,|is nota lio, 7
In such disdainful manner me to woo. | Bot. Nay,
But fare you well: perforce I must confess,

I thought you lord of more true gentleness,
QO, that a lady, of one man refus’ d,

more fearful® wild-fow] than your lion, living and
iwe ought to look to it.

you must name his n: me, and half his
iface must be seen through the lion’s nee k: and he
shimself must speak ao saying thus, or to the

lsame defect,—Ladies, fair ladies, I would wish

Should, of another, therefore be abus’ d! [Exit.|you, or, I would re jue st you, or, I would entreat
Lys. She sees not Hermia: —Hermia, sleep thou| vou, not to fear, not to t tremble: my life for yours,

there ; lit yc you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of

And never may *st thou come Lysander near! ‘my life: no, 1am no such thi Ig § Iam aman as
For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things | othe rmen are :—and there, indeed, let him name his

The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ; jname ; and tell them plainly, he is Snug the joiner.
Or, as the heresies, that men do leave, Geis. Well, it shall be S0. But there ‘jis two
Are hated most of those they did deceive ; . ‘hard things ; that is, to bring the moon-light into a
So thou, my surfeit, and my heresy, chamber: for you know, Pyramus and Thisby
Of all be hated ; but the most of me! imeet by moon-light.
And all my owers, address your love and might, | Snug. Doth the moon shine, that night we play
To honour Helen, and to be fer knight! (Exit. | ‘our play?

(1) In the dark,

 

(2) By all that is dear, /(3) By our ladykin, (4) Dangerous, (5) Terrible,Scene J, MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.

Bot, A calendaty 4 ealendar}
hac: find ouf

147

look in the alma={ Bot, Why do they run aw

a ’ 2
: | : e iy? this isa knavery
inmoon-shine, find out moonshine, jof the m, to make me aifeard,4
QQ ttt, Yes, it doth shine th: it nicht,
Bot, Why, then you may le ave 3 Casement aj Re-enter Snout,
» Bn: . in eto .. -
the great chamber Win dow, where we play, open ;} Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I
and the m¢ r n may shine in ‘it the cascment. isee on thee?
Qtrin. Ay . oF else one must come in ith a bush Bot. W hat do you see ¢ ? you see an ass’s head

of thorns and a lanthorn, and say, he comes to dis-|of your o wn; Do you?
igure, or to present, the person of moon-shine,

; . DD a. 7 : 4
Then the re 1s another thing: we must h ve a wail sreventer Quince,
} m Bal¥O a villi
in the oTreat cha mber : tor Py riumus a , ishy a »? =
in the great cl ; ‘ramus and Thisby,| Quin. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art
says the story, did talk throuvh the chinks of a wall. |translated Eri
Snuc. Yo fcan bring in a wall.—\Whotl oe ; [Ewit.
onus. rou never can bring in a wall.—What Bot. I see their knav thi l
say you. Botton, 1 ot. 1 see thei oe us is to make an ass
al OL i ie 1 }
Bat gon i i — | : . }ol me ; to fright me, i Sikes could, But I will not
of, Some ma 4 ler MUSL present wall: and ir {} :
= oa em Or oie Present Wail? and|stir {rom this place, do what they can: I will walk
thi » SOMeC piasler, or som Li ’ SO} ,

: im h ve som P. cr, or some loam, ¢ ' Some /up and down he re, and I will sing, that they shall
ri + h=« asi oven um, 0 SI nity wall . OF i€I him near l am not afraid, [Sings.
hold his fingers thus, and through that nny shall The :
Pyramus and Thisby whispe The ousel-cock, so black of hue,

oe Po. : ne 4 ith orange-tawny bill,

Quin. If that may hn than all is wel] Come, mm j
sit dowel, everr santhar Pe rink Lhe throstle with his note so true,

: vil, cry BUUIMT S SOM, and Cii¢ © YOU! TN), , .
parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you hav: spoken} _ he wren with little quill ;
your spcech, enter into that brake,' and so every! Tila. Whatan: el wakes me from my flowery bed ?
one according to his cue, [| Waking.
Enter Puck behind | Bot. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
sitid Ch UCM tii . '
, The plain-song r cuckoo® gray,
Puck. W hat hempen home-spuns have we swage- Whose note full many aman doth mark,
rering here, “ind dures not answer, nay ;—
So near the crad] of the fairy queen?
i . cas ] . ‘wu ' fe
What, a play toward? Pll be an auditor - for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause bird? who would ceive a bird the lie, though he
Quin. Speak, Pyramus :—Thisby. stand forth, |ClrY¥; eenxno, never so }
Pyr Thisby, the flowers of ‘odious savour fita. | pray thee, gentle mort: ul, sing again:
’ sneet —. : ; Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note,

Quin. Odours, odours So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ;

Per. ilies ected bind’ \nd thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me,

S> doth Sis Wien tats dénrost Tizeles deny On the first view, fi ay, to swear, I love thee.

OO Gol fl itil, THY aca I iid { deéeadri— . :

But, hark, a voice! stay thou but here a whil Bot. Methinks, nistress, you should have little
> . a ‘\ ; iy iol ft AO) ad wiite,
al ti iid be I will to thee appear [A yiz, (reason for that: sa yet, to say the truth, reason
‘ ad j/ and oy 0 fee appear, | £ t.

Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e’er play’d here | |44 love keep little company together now-a-days:
> [Asia Exit, ‘he more the pity, that some honest neighbours will
e#ivtiil eo" Ly .
eee Bet _— not make them friends. Nay, I can vleek,® upon
Mid. ij us it ik y J
Quin. Ay, marry, must you: for you must un-|0Cca ion,

teratani he banat ¢ ise fhat he heard Zula, Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
caerstand, he woes bul lO sé€e a noise that he heard, . ; ‘

and is to come avain. Bot, Not So, neit her: butif I had wit enough to
oT hi hatin Piddenins  eiaak Blain kis of Zeb out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine

bis. : St POUCA EP GHMAS y Tet » thi? fees } wn turn,
OF a hs By sted ned tac bricercon? bri r. Lita, Out of this wood do not desire to go;

Most } arp . * ‘a an 2 i‘ Il eke. oe} le ely Jew, Thou halt remam here, whether thou wilt or no.

mea’ * ete oe Wareak hove that yet would never Uie,|1 8M a spirit, of no common r: ite ;

Fo gala? oot eet a Bereta Rog © alr toh The summer still doth tend upon my state,
Pim or thes, ure —s oS a a fe p) Al LI do love thee: therefore, go with me ;

oun. mis th: vir sad 2 “ ae i .. Pil vive thee fairies to attend on the e
ope a ae tee ee on “wuice? ard all _Po-,./And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep :
spoek Pe eaAT eee i i. Ss Hee - "| And sing, whi ile thou on pressed flowers dost sleep:
mus enter: your « 1S} { , CET ti .

\nd I will puree thy mortal grossness so,
ler ‘} Bottom wilh an ass’s head That thou shalt like an airy spirit xo.
Re-enter Puck, an ! Bott m wilh an ass’s head, na
7 that wet encutd| Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed!
Thi Se ) ) ——/f§ fyrre (I tris Horse, tila yes wold

+ tata a bic a ig Enter four Fairies.
Pyr od / were Yr. Thi hry, ] were oniy lhine -—
Onis t. OU mons ee Ost n ' we ar acta 1 Fai. Ready.
aiid rs f {ly nasiers ! 1 [ha . Clowns. 2 Fai. And I,
Pray, ma ! fly, ma . ow
- I: r if low A} \| ad toa ibouta round, 3 Fat, Ane
Puc ie if VY i 7 i :
Through bog, t fhigh Bosh. through brake,through! 4 Fai, Where shall we go?
"ae brier : Vita, Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; ‘
7 ; i ] > >
Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, Hop 1 in his walks, and cambol in awe eyes ;
\ ho a beardless bear sometime a fire ; Feed him with apric oc ‘ks and de -w berries,
An ly igh, nd bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,/With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ,
i a eae 1 Dark, aNd C Intl, 2nd roar, a {
» hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. The honey bags ste ai from the humble-bees
Like ! NOrSe, NOUNG, NOG, VCAT, Ure, ¢ fi

[ Evit.| And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs,
And licht them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes,
Thicket. (2) Young man. at ;
(1) Thic _ kee the preceding speech,|(4) Afraid. (5) The cuckoo, with his uniform note,
(3) The last words of the pre Beet es Soke, Ot berries
which serve as a hint to him who is to speak next,|(6) Joke, (7) Gooseberries,; SSARD ASSES aN” AMIE hare

eae —

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
   
 
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
    
  

148 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM.

To have my love to bed, and to arise;

And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes:
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

1 Fai. Hail, mortal!

2 Fai. Hail!

3 Fai. Hail!

4 Fat. Hail!

Bot. I cry your worship’s mercy, heartily.—I
beseech, your worship’s name.

Cob. Cobweb.

Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance,
good master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall
make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman?

Peas. Peas-blossom.

Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash,
your mother, and to master Peascod, your father.
Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire of you
more acquaintance too.—Your name, I beseech
you, sir?

Mus. Mustard-seed.

Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your

atience well: that same cowardly, gidnt-like ox-

eef hath devoured many a gentleman of your
house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my
eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaint-
ance, good master Mustard-seed.

Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my

bower.

The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye ;
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,

Lamenting some enforced chastity.

Tie up my love’s tongue, bring him silently.

[Exeunt,

SCENE II.—Another part of the wood. Enter

Oberon.

Obe. I wonder if Titania be awak’d ;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on in extremity.

Enter Puck.

Here comes my messenger.—tlow now, mad spirit ?
What night-rule' now about this haunted grove ?

Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches,? rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play,
Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial day.
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,°
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Torsook his scene, and enter’d in a brake :
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass’s nowl* I fixed on his head ;
Anon, his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic’ comes: when they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun’s report
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky ;
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly:
And, at our stamp, here o’er and o’er one falls ;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus

strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wronc:
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ;
Some, sleeves ; some, hats : from yielders all things
catch. '

1) Revelry, (2) Simple fellows.
3) Stupidcompany, (4) Head, (5) Actor,

: i

   

Act TTf.

I led them on in this distracted fear,

And left sweet Pyramus translated there :
When in that moment (so it came to pass)
Titania wak’d, and straightway lov’d an ass.

Obe. This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch’d® the Athenian’s eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?

Puck. I took him sleeping,—that is finish’d too,—
And the Athenian woman by his side;

That, when he wak’d, of force she must be ey’d.

Enter Demetrius and Hermia.

Obe. Stand close ; this is the same Athenian.
Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man.
Dem. O why rebuke you him that loves you so ?
|\Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
| Her. Now I but chide, but I should use thee
worse ;
‘For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
\If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
Being o’er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
‘The sun was not so true unto the day,
As he to me: Would he have stol’n away
From sleeping Hermia? [ll believe as soon,
| This whole earth may be bor’d; and that the moon
May through the centre creep, and so displease
Her brother’s noon-tide with the Antipodes.
It cannot be, but thou hast murder’d him ;
‘So should a murderer look ; so dead, so grim,
| Dem. So should the murder’d look; and so
should J,
Pierc’d through the heart with your stern cruelty :
et you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
Her, What's this to my Lysander? where is he ?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ?
Dem. [had rather give his carcase to my hounds,
Her, Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv’st me past
the bounds
Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him then?
‘Henceforth be never number’d among men!
O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake ;
Durst thou have look’d upon him, being awake,
And hast thou kill’d him sleeping ? O brave touch ;*
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much ?
An adder did it: for with a doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris’d*
mood :
I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood ;
Nor is he dead, for aught that I ean tell.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
Dem. And if I could, what should I get there-
fore?
Her. A privilege, never to see me more.—
And from thy hated presence part I so:
See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Eait.
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce
vein;
Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ;
Which now, in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay. ,
| Lies down.
Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken
quite,
And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight:
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue :
Some true-love turn’d, and not a false turn’d true.

 

 

(6) Infected, (7) Exploit, (8) Mistaken,Scene If,

Puck. Then fate o’er-rules
ing troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Obe. About the wood go swifter than th
And Helena of Athens look thou find :
All fancy-sick' she is, and pale of cheer?
With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear :
By some illusion see thou bring her here ;
I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear.
Puck. | ro, | go: ‘look, how I so;
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.
Obe. Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery, :
Sink in apple of his eye }
When his love he doth « Spy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky,—
When thou wak’st, if she be by
Beg of her for remedy.

€ wind,

[| Exit,

?

Re-enter Puc.

Puck. Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand:
And the youth, mistook by :ne,
Pleading fora lover’s fee :
Shall we their fond pageamt see
Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Obe. Stand aside : the noise thi j mal Cc.
Will cause Demetrius to awake.

Puck. Then will two at oace, woo one :
That must needs be sport alone ;
And those things do best please me,
That befal preposterously,

}

Enter Lysander and Helena.
Lys. Why should you think, that I shoul
. in scorn ?
Scorn and derision never come in tears:
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can tnese things in me seem scorn to you,
Be aring the bade ot faith, to prove the m true {
Hel. You do advance your cunninz
more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray !
These vows are Hermia’s;: Will you give her o’er
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing we igh:
Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales
Will even weigh; and both as licht
Lys. | had no judgment, when to her I swore.
Hel. Nor none, in my mind you
o't -
Lys. Dem«e trius loves her, and he loves not vou.
Dem. [.dwaking. ] QO Helen, goddess, nymph,
perfect, divine !
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ?
Crystal is muddy.
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, te mpting crow !
That pure congealed white, high ‘Taurus’ snow,
Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow,
When thou hold’st up thy hand: O let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this sea] of bliss!
Hel. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment.
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join, in souls,? to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady 50;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,

d woo

more and
;

,

as tales,

now rive her

;

less

J. how ripe in show

per
|
|
e
I
(2) Countenance.

re-sick, Bs x
ine (4) Degree. (5) Pay dearly for it.

(3) Heartily.

MIDSUMMER-NIGH'I’S DREAM.

; that one man hold-

| Have with our neelds

   
 
  
    
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
   
  
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
  
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 

149

am sure, you hate me with your hearts.
are rivals, and love Hermia ;
both rivals, to mock Helena :
\ trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
T’o conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes,
|With your derision! none, of noble sort,*
Would so offend a virgin; and extort
A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.
Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius ; be not so ;
For you love Hermia ; this, you know, I know:
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part ;
‘And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
| Whom I do love, and will do to my death.
| Tel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:
[fe’er I lov’d her, all that love is gone.
|My heart with her, but as guestwise, sojourn’d ;
| And now to Helena is it home return’d,
There to remain.
Lis. Helen, it is not so.
Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
|Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.s—
Look, where thy love comes ; yonder is thy dear.

| When, I
‘You both
'And now

/
}
|
j

Enter Hermia.

Her. Dark night, that fronrthe eye his function
takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes ;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
It pays the hearing double recompense :—
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ;
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ?

Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press

to go?
Her, What love could press Lysander from my
side ?
Lys. Lysander’s love, that would not let him
*bide,

air Helena ; who more engilds the night

Than all yon fiery oes® and eyes of light.
\¥hy seek’st thou me? could not this make thee
; know .
The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?
Her, You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy !
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d, all three,
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid ! :
Haye you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision ?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sisters’ yows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,—O, and is all forgot?
\ll school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence ?
We, Hermia, like two artificial’ gods,
‘ created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,

Both warbling of one song, both in one key ;
|As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,

Had been incorporate, So we grew together,

| Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ;
I

sut yet a union in partition,
['wo lovely berries moulded on one stem:

So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ;
| ’ . é oo : ‘
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,

Jue but to one, and crown’d with one crest.
\nd will you rent our ancient love asunder,
(‘o join with men in scorning your poor friend ?
t is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly -

(6) Circles,

(7) Ingenious, (8) Needles,TT

i, = Rai rea ete tet te

 

 

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150 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. Act Hf.

Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it: !Why, then you left me,—O, the gods forbid !—
Though I alone do feel the injury. In earnest, shall I say !

Her. I am amaz’d at your passionate words: | Lys. Ay, by my life ;
I scorn you not ; it seems that you scorn me. !And never did desire to see thee more.

Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, (Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt,

To follow me, and praise my eyes and face ? \Be certain, nothing trucr; ’tis no jest,
And made your other love, Demetrius, That I do hate thee, and love Helena.
(Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) | Her. O mc! you juggler! you c nker-blossom !*
To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, You thief of love! what, have you come by night
Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this |And stol’n my love’s heart from hin?
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Hel. Fine, faith!
Deny your loye, so rich within his soul, Have you no modesty, no maiden hame,
And tender me, forsooth, affection ; No touch of bashfulness ? Vvbat, will you tear
But by your setting on, by your consent ? Impatient answe s from my gcnile tongue?
What though I be not so in grace as you, Fic, fie! you coutterfeit, you puppet you!
So hung upon with love, so fortunate ; Her. Puppet! why sof Ay, thut way goes the
But miserable most, to love unlov’d ¢ me
This you should pity, rather than despise. Now I perceive that she hath mace compare
Her. I understand not what you mean by this, |Between our statures, she hath ure’d her height ;
He!. Ay, do perséver, counterfeit sad looks, And with her personage, her tall personage,
Make mows! upon me when | turn my back ; Her heirht, forsoo 1, she hath prevail’d with him.—
Wink at each other ; hold the swect jest up ; And are you grow’) so high im his esteem,
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled, Because | am so c+varfish, and so low?
If you have any pity, grace, or manners, How low am J, theu painted maypole ? speak ;
You would not make me such an argument. How low am I? } am not yet so low,
But, fare ye well: ’tis partly mine own fault ; But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes,
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. Hel. I pray you, *nough you mock me, centlemen,
Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse ; Let her not hart m2: Twas never curst ;?
My love, my life, my soul, fair Hclena! I have no gift at al: in shrewishness ;
Hel, O excellent ! lama right maid (or my cowardice ;
Her. Sweet, do not scorn her so.|Let her not strike 1ae: You. perhaps, may think,
Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. Because she’s something lower than myself,

Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she en-)That I can match her.
treat ; | ser. Lower! hark, again.
Thy threats have no more strength, than her weak} Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.

prayers.— I evermore did love you, Hermta,

Helen, I love thee; by my life, 1 do ; Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong’d you;
I swear by that which [ will lose for thee, Save, that in love unto Demetrius, F
To prove him false, that says I love thee not. I told him of your stealth unto this wood:

Dem. I say, I love thee more than he can do. He follow’d you; for love, I follow’d him.

Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too./But he hath chid me hence: and threaten’d me
Dem. Quick, come,— To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:

Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ?) And now, so you w ill let me quiet go,
Lys. Away, you Ethiop! To Athens will I bear my folly back,
Dem. No, no, sir:—he will) And follow you no further: Let me go:
Seem to break loose; take on, as you would follow; | You see how simple and how fond+ I am.
But yet come not: You are a tame man, go! | Her. Why, get you gone: Who is’t that hinders
Lys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr: vile thing, | you?
let loose ; | Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent. | Her. What, with Lysander ?
Her. Why are you grown so rude? what change} Hel. With Demetrius.
is this, | Lys. Be not afraid: she shall not harm thee
Sweet love? Helena. ;
Lys. Thy love? out, tawny Tartar, out! Dem. No, sir; she shall not, though you take
Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence ! her part. ae
Her. Do you not jest? | Hel. O, when she’s angry, she is keen and
Hel. Yes, ’sooth; and so do you. shrewd: ;

Jys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. |She was a vixen, when she went to school ;
Dem. 1 would, I had your bond; for, I perceive,| And, though she be but little, she is fierce.
A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word.) Her, Lite again? iothing but low and little? -

Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill) Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
her dead ? \Let me come to her.
Although I hate her, I’l] not harm her so. | Lys. | Get you gone, you dwarf;
Her. What, can you do me greater harm, than) You minimus, of hind’ring knot-grass* made ;
hate ? iYou bead, you acorn.
Hate me! wherefore ?O me! what news, my love 2) Dem. You are too officious,
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander ? In her behalf that scorns your services.
I am as fair now, as I was erewhile. \Let her alone; speak not of Helena ;
Since night, you lov’d me; yet, since night you}Take not her part: for if thou dost intend®
left me: Never so little show of love to her,
Jeu f: | kr . :
) Wry faces. (5) Anciently knot-grass was believed to pree

(i
(2) A worm that preys on buds of flowers. vent the growth of children.
(3) Shrewish or mischievous, (4) Foolish, (6) Pretend.Scene JT. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. 1351

Thou shalt aby it.
ys. Now she holds me not:
> ™ > ‘” ? iy 6 ,
Now follow, if thou dar’st, to try whose right, , Enter Ly sander.

Or thine Or mine, is most in Helena. Lys, Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak
Dem. Follow? nay, Pil go with thee, cheek by

Here comes one.

thou now.
jole. [Axeunt Lys. and Dem.| Puck. Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where
Her. You, mist ‘eSS, all this coil is ‘lone of’ y ou: art thous?
Nay, vo not back. ; | Lys, I will be with thee straight.
Hel, I will not trust you, I; Puck, Follow me then
Nor longer stay in your curst company. To plainer cround.
Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray: [Exit Lys. as following the voice.
My legs are | meer thouch, to run away [ wit, . °
fer, Tam amazd, and know not what to Say, Enter Demetrius.
[Exit, pursuing Uelena.| Dem. Lysander! speak again.
Oe. This is thy negligence : still tho tinistak’st, | Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled ?
Or else commit’st thy knaveries wilfully. Speak. In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy
Fuck, Believe me, kins of shadows, I mistook, head ?
D'd not you tell me, I should know th man Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the
By the Athenian farments he had on? Stars,
And so far blameless proves my enterprise, Telling the bushes that thou look’st for wars,
That I have ’nointed an Athenian’s eves : {nd wilt not come ? Come, recreant ; come, thou
ind so far am I elad it so did rt child ;
As this their jangling I esteem a sport. I'll whip thee with a rod: He is defil’d
Ove. Thou seest, these lovers seek a placeto fight: |That draws a sword on thee.
Hic therefore, Robin, overcast the nicht ; Dem Yea; art thou there?
The starry welkin cover thou ancn — Puck. Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood
With drooping fo: ; blac! Ac] here

in , as black as Acheron: ere. [Exeunt.
And lead these testy rivals so astray

: ris Re-enter Lysander.

v aad conase. Lee a fee thei ail Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on ;
= aa Feige ” a? When I come where he calls, then he is gone.

oe De me ee aes a, Hane et The villain is much lighter heel’d than I:

—_ f. eo aif cae RA PR cs Rae ao! thu ! follow’d fast, but faster he did fly ;

Th ales Hede Pk Bh # i ex | Phat fallen am I in dark uneven way,

ia oe eee ae \nd here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day!
With leaden oe ONG Waly Wings Coun creep : [Lies down.
FT te RES MILO I. pret, 8 CYOs ‘For if but once thou show me thy gray light,
= " on co i De) Wes Yirtuo a Wnt Ts ont I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps.

oO take rom thene } Cl MT, Ln DS might,

Re-enter Puck and Demetrius.
When the ¥Y next W le, all th

a : ; : ; _ |
And m ike his eye-] lis roll with wonted sight.
i j

Rid dete fake ced cite Gas. Puck. Ho, ho! ho, ho! Coward, why com’st
ee pony Aiiiedt cientt thn lover orostt* thou not?

ee ren auaen bene FOE 4 os a Dem. Abide me, if thou dar’st; for well I wot,
With league, whose date till death shall never end. Thou runn’st before me, shifting every place ;
Whil $ Tin this affair do igi aes 3 And dar’st not stand, nor look me in the face.
I! +O my queen, an i beg See Where art thou ? :
a — Ly Ul her ch ea ati TT Puck. Come hither; I am here.

rOm MOnster’s Vicw, and ali things s BUC 2c

. 3" - ; peace. Dem. Nay, then thou mock’st me. Thou shalt
Puck, My fairy lord, this must be done with .

” ” buy this dear,
haste 5 . : : If ever I thy face by day-licht see :
Por night’s swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
And yonder shines Aurora’s harbinger ; :' To measure out my length on this cold bed.—
At whose approzch, ghosts, wandering here and) p, day’s approach look to be visited.
there, eis | spirits all ea [Lies down and sleeps,
op Enon in nhaskah. wieder s Ymned snirits n
re adie Sard Ff cte the ve Se ‘al, ay Enter Helena.
Already fo their wormy beds are gon Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
For fear lest day should look their shames upon, | Abate thyhours: shine, comforts, from the east ;
T) wilfully themselves exile from light, That IT may back to Athens, by day-light,
And must for ave consort with black-brow’d nicht From these that my poor company detest :—
( Dut we of another sort; And, sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye,
T wit M Love ive oft made sport; | Steal me a while from mine own company. [ Sleeps.
And. lil forester, the croves may tread, Puck. Yet but three ? Come one more ;
E ven to the eastern vate. all fiery red. Two of both kinds makes up four.
(nening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Here she comes, curst and sad :—
" into yell rold h lt-crcen streams. Cupid is a knavish lad,
But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: Thus to make poor females mad.
’ 4 ° e ‘ } a }
We may eficct this business yet ec: Bil SE Enter Hermia.
Puck, Up and down, up and down; Her. Never so weary, never so in Wo,
I will lead them up and down: Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers 4
I am fear’d in field and town ; I can no further crawl, no ee a
Goblin, lead them up and down. My legs can keep no pace with my desires,

(1) Happen. (2) Medicinal efficacy. (3) Go. | (4) Cephalus, the paramour of Aurora,Gentle lover, remedy.
[Squeezing the juice on Lysander’s eye. |

: hen thou wak’st,

Ot And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own,

 

 

ACT IV.
SCENE I.—The same. inter Titania and Bot
tom, Fairies attending ; Oberon behind unseen. F

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,

ped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good
monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fre
yourself too much in the action, monsicur; and|
good monsieur, have a care the honey-bac break
not; I would be loath to have you overflown with
a honey bag, signior.—Where’s monsieur Mustard-|,
seed ? |
Must. Ready.
Bot. Give me your neif,? monsicur Mustard-seed. |
Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsicur. |
Mist, What's your will?
Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to h« Ip cava-
lero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber’s
monsieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy
about the face: and I am such a tender ass, if m)
hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
Tita. What, wilt thou hear sume music, m}
sweet love ?
Bot. I have a reasonable good ear inn let
us have the tongs and the bones.
Tita, Or, say, sweet love, what thou:

suSic :

>aA

lesir’st to eat.

ey
oki

Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch
a your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a great
desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay,

hath no fellow. |

Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek |
The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.

Bot. 1 had rather have a handful, or two, of;
dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of you
people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come

upon me.
Lit Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. |

(1) Stroke, (2) Fist.

    

Enrings the barky fingers

iH i 152 MIDSUMMER-NIG

Dea

i ‘ Here will I rest me, till the break of day. \}"

we Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

nia [ Lies down. |Gently entwist,—
i Puck. On the ground \E

pial Sleep sound : 1O, how 11

a Pll apply

1 To your eye,

Hi Thou tak’st

True delight no
i In the sight [S
i Of thy former lady’s cye : L

iyi
And that same dew which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,

fi In your waking shall be shown:

i) ack shall have Jill ;

4 Nought shall go ill; 1S

rife The man shall have his mare again, and all shall} L

a be well, [Ex. Puck.—Dem. Hel. Sc. sleep.

pu \
‘I

{ Methought, I was

O, how

  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
    
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
   

HT’S DREAM. Act IV,

airies, be gone, and be all ways away.

So doth the woodbine, the honeysuckle,

the female ivy so
of the elm.
ove thee! how I dote on thee!
[ They sleep.
Enter Puck.

See’st thou this

Oberon advances.

Obe. Welcome, good Robin.
sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity.

or meeting her of late, behind the wood,

eeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,

did upbraid her, and fall out with her :

or she his hairy temples then had rounded
Vith coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ;

tood now within the pretty flowrets’ eyes,
that did their own disgrace bewail.

ike tears

5

When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
‘And she, in mild terms, begg’d my patience,

then did ask of her her changeling child ;
Vhich straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
‘o bear him to my bower in fairy land.

‘And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
'And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp

‘rom off the head of this Athenian swain ;

That he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair ;

i; While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,! | :
i And stick musk-roses in thy sleck smooth head, And think no more of this night’s accidents,
IF And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. Bul as the fierce vexation of a dream.
ve Bot. Where’s Peas-blossom ? : But first I will release the fairy queen.
4 Peas. Ready. Be, as thou wast wont to vs.
Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom.—Where’s [Touching her eyes with an herb,
monsieur Cobweb ? See, as thou wast wont to see :
Cob. Ready. Dian s bud o’er Cupid’s flower
Bot. Monsieur Cobweb ; good monsieur, get}. Hath such force and blessed power.
your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hip- Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tita. My Oberon! What visions have I seen!

enamour’d of an ass,

tes your love.

How came these things to pass ?

mine eyes do loath his visage now ?

Obe. Silence, awhile—Robin, take off this head—

Titani call: and strike more dead

[han common sleep, of all these five the sense.

Tita. Music, ho! music ; suchas charmeth sleep.

P Now, when thou wak’st, with thine own
fool’s eves peep.

Obe. Sound, music. [Still music. ]
queen, take hands with me,

And rock the ground w hereon these sleepers be.

Now thou and I are new in amity ;

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,

D in duke Theseus’ house triumphantly,

Vance
And bless it to all fair posterity:

Obe. There |

Lita

1, MUSIC

a

ite
LiCl»

Come, my

There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark ;
I do hear the morning lark.
Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,

Trip we after the night’s shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand’ring moon,
Tita. Come, my lord: and in our flight,

Tell me how it came this nicht, '
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals, on the ground, [Ezxeunt,

| Horns sound within.
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.

The. Go one of you, find out the forester :For now our obs rvation 18 perform id:
And since we have the y; ay ward! of the day,

My love shall hear the music of my hounds.—

Uncouple in the western y alley; go:
De spate h, I s: ay, and find the fore ster,—

We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s to

And mi rk the musical confusion
(){ hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. 1 was with Hercules, and Cadmus, o

When in a wood of Crete they bavy’d the b

A

Wil h he yunds of sr pi rt: tr never did | he ir

hi

Such gall my chiding r:2 for, besides the croves

Ihe skies, the fountains, every regwion near
Seem’d atl one mutual cry: | never heard
So musical a discord, suc

1 sweet thunder.

l’‘he. My hounds are bred out of the S;

kind,

So flew’d,? so sanded; and their heads are
With ears that sweep away the morning dew
Crook-knee *d, and de w-lap’d like Thessalian bt

Slow in pursuit, but m ite h’d in mouth like |

Keach under each, A cry more tuneable
Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with hor:
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:

Judge when you hear.—But, soft: what ny
,

are these

Ewe. My lord, this is my daughter |

And t this. Lysander: this Demetrius i
This Helena, old Nedar’ a na:

Il wonder of their being h rether,

The. No doubt, they rose up early, to obs
The rite of May: and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnit
But, speak, Egeus ; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her c}

Fre. Itis, my lord.

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake then

their horns.

Horns, and shout within. Demetrius, Lysan

Hermia, and Helena, wake and

The. Good-morrow friends. St. Valentin
Begin these wood-birds but to coupie now
Lys. Pardon, my lord

[He and the rest kneel to Th

The. 1 pray you all,

1 know, you are two riv: 1 Cl ’

Liow come a this gentie concord in the work
That hatred is so far from } Llousy,

l'o sleep | y hate, and & ir no enmity

Lys. My lord, I shall r ply amazedly,

Half ’sleep, half waking: wat as yet, | swear

I cannot truly say how le
But, ius | think, (fi yr ir |
And now I do bethink me, so it Is ;)

I came with Hermia hither; our inten!

Was, to be gone from Athens, where we m}

Without the _ of the Ath nian law.
Eee. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough;
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.—
They would have stol’n away, they would, Deme-
; trius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me:

j

‘ “e . . en ‘ + «
You, of your wile; and me of my consen

| rie]

Of my consent that she should be your wilt |
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their steal

Of this their purpose hither, — wood ;
And I in fury hither follow’ d the:
Fair Helena in fancy* * following me.

But, my good lord, I wot not by what pow
(But by some power il is,) my love to Hermia,

1) Forepart. (2) Sound.
(3) The flews ar

2

) . » ' 11.4
y'—- Peter Quince! Klute,

y wot 1} d ] sp ak,—

‘ome home yet | i
Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt,
is transport d.

e the large chaps of a hound.

  
     
    
   
      
  
       
   
  
  
  
    
 
 
  
   
  
   
    
 
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   

Scene LI. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. 153

‘Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now
‘the remembrance of an idle gawd,?®
Vhich in my childhood I did dote upon:
\nd all the laith, the virtue of my heart,

object, and ‘the pleasure of mine eye,

s only Helena. To her, my lord,

Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia:

Bul, like in sickness, did I loath this food:
t, as in ne come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,

And will for evermore be true to it.

he. air lovers, you are fortunately met :

Of this discourse we more will hear anon.—

us, I will overbear your will ;
in the temple, by and by with us,
se couples sh ull ete rnally be knit.

And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos’d hunting shall

» set aside,—
Ly, with us, to Athens: Three and three,
{1 hold a feast in great solemnity.—

}

be
ry
i

ome riiIppolvta.
‘[Exveunt The. Hyp. Ege. and train.
Dem, These things scem small, and undistin-
PuUISNHADIC,
ike far-olf mountains turned into clouds,

Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted cye,
i\When every thing seems double,

Hel. So methinks:
nd I have found Demet

rius like a jewel,
own, and not mine own.

Dem. It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream.—Do not you think,

duke was h re, and bid us follow him ?

Hel. And Hippolyta.
Her. Yea: and my {
Ly ys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.

uther.

W) hy Bee n, we are awake: let’s follow him ;

‘sh 3 the way, let us recount our dreams, (Exe.

vis they ro oul, Bottom awakes.

Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will
swer:—my next is, Most fair Pyramus.—Hey,
the bellows-mender !
, the tinker! Starveling! God’s my life!
n hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most

re vision. I have had a dream,—past the wit of

n to say what dream it was: Man is but anass,
o about to expound this dream. Methought

was-—there is no man call tell what. Methought

| methoucht I had,—But man Js but a
to say what methought

eve of man hath not heard, the ear of

- man’s hand is not able to taste,

tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what
dream was. I will eet Peter Quince to write a

¥
}

tched fool, if he will offer

I
ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom’s

im. because it hath no bottom: and I will sing
the latter end of a play, before the duke:
-e. to make it the more gracious, I shall
it at her death [ Exit.

‘ENE IJ.—Athens. A room in Quince’s
j

House. Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and
Starveling.

Ouin. Have you sent to Bottom’s house ? is he

;

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred ;

It coes not forw: ird, doth it ?

Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in
xX

(4) Love. ‘ (5) Toy.Wie

eee

 

 

Seater R Renae pss 28

   
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
    
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
 

154 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. ict V,

all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he.

Flu. No; he hath simply the. best wit of any
handicraft man in Athens,

Quin, Yea, and the best person too: and he js
a very patamour for a sweet voice.

Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is
God bless us, a thing of nought

| That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
[t comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos’d a bear !

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
,; And all their minds transfigur’d so together,
: | More witnesseth than fancy’s images,

| And grows to something of great constancy ;?

|But, howsoever, strange, and admirable.

 

 

Enter Snug.
tug, Masters, the duke is coming from the
weal aa tae ss fs es i Tee pet and Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
more married: if our sport had gone iorward, we| The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.—
had all been made men. |Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love,
Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost} Accompany your hearts !
sixpence a-day during his life ; he could net have| Lys. More than to us
’scaped sixpence a-day ; an the duke |

 

iad not gviver| Wait on vour royal walks, your board, your bed.
him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, Pil be| Zhe. Come now ; what masks, what dances shall
hanged ; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, | we haye,
in Pyramus, or nothing. | To wear away this long age of three hours,
| Between our after-supper, and bed-time ?
Enter Bottom. 1] ;

vv here is our usual manager of mirth?

Bot. Where are these lads? where ar these} What revels are in hand? is there no play,

hearts ? To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ?
Quin. Bottom!—O most e urageous day! Oj/Call Philostrate.

most happy hour! | Philost. ifere, mighty Theseus.

ot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders - but} Zhe. Say, what abridgment} have you for this

ask me not what; for, if I tell you, I am no true evening ?
Athenian. I will tell you every thing. rivht as it} What mask? what music? How shall we beguile
fell out. F Che lazy time, if not with some dc light ?

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. | Philost. There is a brief,* how many sports are

Bot. Not a word of me. All thet I will tel! you, | ripe ;
is, that the duke hath dined: Get your apparel to-| Make choice of which your highness will see first.
gether ; good strings to your beards, new ribbon [Giving a paper,
to your pumps; meet presently at the palace ;| The. [Reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to
every man look o’er his part, for, the short and thi be sung

long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let} By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.
Thisby have clean linen; and let not him, that} We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
plays the lion, pare his nails, for th: y shall hang out|In glory of n y kinsman Hercules.
for the lions claws. And, most dear actors,eatno| The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
onions, nor garlic, for we are to utter swectbreath;| Tearing the Thracian stinger in their rage.
and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, itis a} That is an old device: and it was play’d
sweet comedy. No more w ords; away: ro,| When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
away, [Exeunt.| The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
| Of learning, late deceas’d in begsary.
| That is some satire, keen, and eritical
ACT y | Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
mack V- | A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
| 4 . ca ‘Th i ein . es [>
SCENE I.—The same. .4n apartment in the} woe h as rs oe re tragycal mirth.
Palace of Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta,|A4°T'Y 284 tragical ? Tedious and brief }
Philocte aa 9 FAIPPOLY LA, | 94 is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow.
ulostrate, Lords, and Attendants. How shall we find the concord of thie diee )
iw shal i¢ concord of this discord 7

Hip. ’Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words

speak of. on : ;

The. More strange than true. I never may believe| Which is as brief as I have known a play:
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys, iBy ten words ]
Lovers, and madmen, have such se thing brains, {Which makes it t dious: for in all the play
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
Mote than cool reason ever comprehends, And tragical, my noble lord, it is F
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, |F’or Pyramus therein doth kill himself,

Are of imagination all compact :! | Which, when I saw rehe ars’d, I must confess,

——>—_——.
’

rT
“- 9

» my lord, it is too lore :

|
}
|
|

One sees more devils than vast hel] can hold: | Made mine eves water: but more merry tears
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, |The passion of loud laughter never shed.

Secs Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt: Lhe. What are they, that do play it ?

The poet’s eye, in a fine fre nzy rolling, Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to here,

heaven ;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s
Turns them to shapes, and cives to
A local habitation, and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination ;

Which never labour’d in their minds till now:

And now have toil’d their unbreath’d> memories

pen With this same play, against your nuptial,

airy nothing The. And we will hear it,
Philost. No, my noble lord,

It is not for you: I have heard it over,

le And it is nothing, nothing in the world ;

54 Are made of mere imagination, (2) Stability. ,

3) Pastime, (4) Short account, :

 

(5) Unexercised.Scene I. MIDSUM
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
frctre le (mental? ‘ ; *s} .
BE xtremely stretch’d, and conn’d with cruel pain,
To do you service

Th,
_ Lhe, I will hear that play ;
For ne ver any (hing can be amiss,
Wh n s] In! y! ness and duty le nad . it.
Go, brine them in ;—and take your places, lad
it i 11 strate
Hip. I lov il yt to sce W rete he a! SS 0 Cil od
And duty in | } SCrVICe ] shin
7 h Wrhe '
Tie. Why, le sweet, you | no
thine.
Hip H Lys, they can do nothi in this kind
The ive Kinde we, tO ry 1 lh nics i
nothi f
ie ort shall be, to take what mist! f
And what poor duty can do,
N oble respect kes it 1mignat, if
VV cre | nave Come, great CiCrKsS *d
ro greet me with premeditated welco)
Where I hav n them nd look pale,
Aq ies + . i 9 +} let ;
ida | -riods In Ln Iti i O1 Ss {
Phrottle their | iclis’d accent in their f ‘
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off.
Not paying me a welcome Trust me, swe t,
Out of this silence, yet, I ickrd L wel .
. ‘ © . . - . ’
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much, as from the rattling tonrue
Of saucy and ude serous € loquence.
a we, therelo . 1 tonrue-tied simplici!
i 5
In lei aed beset, 86 1 nv capacity.
Ei + Philost
Philost 3 your grace, » the prolorue js
addrest. !
The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets
Enter Prolocue i
Prol. If we offend, it ‘ts wilh our cood will
That vou she Ou ull thi ni ice com il yf l , offi ud, !
But with rood will. To show our im ! ill
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in « pue

We do not come as minding to conlent vy u,

Our true intentis, ll for your delight,
Wearenolhere. Th you. hould her: repent you,
‘Ae actors are al Ra l id ; a) rd, hy their she w,

You shall know all, that you are like lo know.

The. This fe! low doth not stand upon points,

Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like rouch colt,
he knows notthe stop. A good et ylord: lt
is not enough to speak, but to speak ie.

Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue
like a child on a recorder ;* a sound, but not in
governm« nt.

The. His speech was like a tangled chain; no-
thing impaire d, but all disordered. Who is next?
Enter Pyramus and’ an his , Wall, Moonshine, and

Lion, as in ie unb show.

Prol. ‘ Gentles, Sa you wonder at this

show ;

‘ But wonder on, till truth make all things piain.
‘This man is Pyramus, if you would know ;

‘This beauteous lady Thisby is, cert4in.

‘This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
‘Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers

sunder :

And through wall’s chink, poor souls, they are

content
‘To whisper ; at the which let noman wonder. |

(2

) A musical instrument.

(1) Ready.

 

MER-NIGHT’S

   
  
   
     
       
      
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
    
 
 
  
   
     
  
   
    
  
   
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   

DREAM, 155
[ This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
)
‘ Presenteth moonshine: for, if you will know,
‘By moonshine did the se lovers think no scorn
‘To meet at Ninus * tomb, there, there to woo.

‘This grisly beast, whi ch by name lion hight,?
‘The trusty Th Lisb5 coming first by night,
‘Did scare av r rather d lid right ;

mantle she did fall ;
ith b (an dy mouth did stain:
, sweet youth, and tall,

fel | ne r
) yee y
; Py “ 1

‘And, as sh
‘Which lion

1Ol COR VM Ss

* And finds his trial ‘Thisby’s mantle slain:
‘Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
‘He bravely broach’d his b oiling bloody breast ;
‘And, ‘Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade,
‘His dagwer drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, ane lovers twain, |
At Jarge discourse, while here they do remain.’
[Execunt Prol. Thisbe, L ion, and Moonshine.
The. 1 wond it the liot n be : to speak,
Vem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when
; s do
Hy all, ‘In this same interlude, it doth befall,
That 1, one Snout by name, present a wall:
And such a wall, as I ve id have you think,
That had in ita crann) ’d hole, or chink,

Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,

‘Did whisper often very secretly.
‘This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth
s| VW
That Iam that same wall: the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,

‘Yhrough which the fearful lovers are to whisper.’
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak
better ?
Dem. It is the wittic
discourse, my lord.
The. Pyramus draws near the wall ;

‘st partition that ever I heard

silence t
Inter Pyramus.
‘O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so
black :
‘QO night, which ever art, when day is not!
‘O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
‘I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot !—
‘And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
‘That stand’st between her father’s ground and
mine :
‘Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
‘Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine
[Wall holds up his fingers.

Pyr.

Cy ne,
Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for
this !
‘But wh : 1? No Thisby do I see.
‘O wicked w all. through whom I see no bliss ;
‘Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me !?
The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should

curse agin.

Pyr. No, intruth, sir, he should not. Deceiving
is Thisby’s cue: she is to enter now, and I am
to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will
fall pat as I told you:—Yonder she comes.

Entcr Thisbe.

This. ‘O wall, full often hast thou heard my

moans,

‘For parting my fair Pyramus and me:

‘My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones ;
‘Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in ‘thee.?
Pyr. ‘1 see a voice; now will I to the chink,

‘To spy an I can hear my Thisby’s face.

‘Thisby ! ”

This.

Wit
' ;

‘My love! thou art my love, I think,’

(3) Called."eel a a A. ae

 

 

  

MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. Act V,

Pyr. ‘Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s| Lys. Proceed, moon.

grace ; Moon. All that I have to sa (, 1s, to tell you,
And like Limander am I trusty still.’ that the lantern is the moon; the man in the

This. ‘ And I like Hele D, till the fates me kill.’ |moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn- bush ; and this

Pyr. ‘Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true,’ dog, my dog.

This. ‘ As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you, Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern ;

Fyr, ©, ce me through the hole’ of this vile |for they are inthe moon. But, silence; here comes
wa Thisbe.

This. ‘J kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.’

Pyr. * Wilt thou at Ninny’ s tomb meet me
straightway ??

Tits.’ en life, tide death, I come without de-

inter Thisbe.

love ?
Lion. § Ob,"
[The Lion roars.—Thisbe runs off.
| Dem. Well roared, lion.
|
}
j

|
| Zhis, ‘ This is old Ninny’s tomb: Where is my

Wall. ‘ da hve I, Wall, my Di ut disch: irge so;
‘ And, being done, thus Wall ar ay doth go.’

[i reunt W: all, Pyramus, and Thisbe.| The. Well run, Thisbe.

The. Now is the mural down between the two Hip. Well shone, moon.—Truly, the moon
neighbours, ishines with a good grace.
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so| Zhe. Well moused, lion.
wilful to hear without w; arnine. [The lion tears Thisbe’s mantle, and exit.
flip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard, | Dem. And so comes Pyramus.
Lhe. The best in this kind are but shadows: and} Lys. And then the moon vanishes.
the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. ; cs
Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not! Enter Pyramus.
theirs.
The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they
of themselves, they may pass for exccllent me ‘I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright :

Here come two noble be asts i! I, td moon and a lion, | ‘Tor hy thy ry LClOUS volden clittering streams,
. 3 hy pte > & + Bd ‘ ‘

Pur. ‘Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny
beams

Enter Lion and Moonshine. | ‘ 1 trust to taste of truest Thisby’s sight.
*‘ But stay :-—O s pite
Lion. ‘ You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do ‘But mark :—Poor knight,
fear ‘ What dreadful dole is here!
‘The smallest monstrous mouse that ereeps on| ‘ Eyes, do you sce ?
floor, O dainty duck! O dear!
‘May now, perchance, both quake and trembl Thy mantle good,
1ere, ‘What, stain’d with blood ?
* When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. ‘Approach, ye furies fell!
‘ Then know, that [, one Shue the joiner, am ‘O fates! come, come :

‘ A lion fell, nor else no lion’s dam:
>

* Cut thread and thrum:
‘For if I should as lion come in strife

* Quail, crush, conclude, a1 nd quell !?3

‘Into this place, ’twere pity on my life.’ The, This passion, and the death of a dear
Lhe. A very gentle beast, and of a good con-|f{riend, would go near to make a man look sad.
science, l:ip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man,
Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that} Pyr. ‘O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions
e’er I saw. frame ?
Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valou: |; _‘ Since lion vile hath here deflour’d my dear:

ryt)
The, True; and a goose for his discretion. ‘Which is—no, no—w] bic h was the fairest dame,

‘7

i (
Dem, Notso, my lord: for his valour cannot} ‘ That liv’d, that lov’ d, that lik’d, that look’d with
carry his discretion : and the fox carries the goose. |

Cc hee i"
The. His discretion, [ am sure, cannot carry his * Come, tears, confound ;
valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is *Qut, sword, and wound
well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to ‘The pap of Pyramus:
the moon. ‘ Av, that left pay
Moon. ‘ This lantern doth the horned moon pre- ‘ Where heart doth hop:
sent :’ ‘Thus die I, thus, thus, thus,
Dem. He should have worn the horns on bis * Now am I dead,
head. * Now am I fled :
The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invi ‘My soul is in the sk)
ble within the circumference. Tong Ie, lose thy light
Moon. ‘This lantern doth the horned moon ‘ Moon, take thy flight!
present ; . Now, die. die. die, die, die.
* Myself the man i’ th’ moon do seem to be.’ | | Dies.—Lxit Moonshine.
The. This is the greatest error of all the rest:| Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; forhe is but
the man should be put into the lantern: How is it! one.
else the man ?’ the moon ? | Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead:
Dem. He dares not come there for the candle :|he is nothing. :
for, you see, it is already in snuff.’ | Zhe. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet
Hip. f am aweary of this moon: Would, he}recover, and prove an ass. ; lis #
would change ! | Hip. eee chance Moonshine is gone, before

The. It appears, by his small light of disc retion,|Thisbe comes back and finds her lover
that he is in the wane : but yet, in courtesy, in all | The. She will find him by star-light, —Here she
reason, we must stay the time. comes ; and her passion ends the play,

(1) In anger; a quibble. (2) Coarse yarn. (3) Destroy, (4) Countenance,Enter Thisbe.

Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long
for such a Pyramus : I hope, she will be brief.

Dem, A mote will turn the balance, which P y-
ramus, which Thisbe, is the be tter,

one,

Lys. She hath spied him already with those
sweet eves,
Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet,——
This, ‘ Asleep, my love
* What, dead, my dove ?
*O Pyramus, arise, ~
Speak, speak. Quite dumb ?
* Dead, dead? A tomb
* Must cover thy sweet eyes.
7 These lily | ITOWS, ;
* This cherry nose
: Phe se yellow cow slip cheeks,
Are rone, are vone:
‘ Lovers, make moan '
+

His eyes were green as leeks.
* O sisters three,

* Come, come, to me,
‘Wi ith hands as p ale as nit
°i, ay them in _

* Since you have shore
W ith shears his thr “ad of
‘ Tongue, not a w

* Come, trusty sword :

* Come, blade, my bri
* And farewell.
* Thus,

’ Adieu,

ilk

‘ .
SLA.

rt:

ast imbruc
iriends ;—
Thisby ends:
adieu, adieu.’

[Dies.

The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the
dead,

Dem. Ay, and Wall too,

Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that

parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the
epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance
two of our com any {

The. No epilogue, I pray you; for
needs no excuse. Ne ver excuse
ers are all dead, there
Marry, if he that writ
hanged himself in
been a fine tragedy truly ; and very
notably discharged. But come, your sergomask : |
let your epilogue alone. lle re a dance of Clowns.
The iron tongue of midnich th told twelve :—
Lovers, to bed; ‘tis almost fairv time
] fear we shall out-sle« p the coming morn
As much as we this nicht have
This palpable gross play hath well be
The heavy gait! of nicht.—Sweet
A fortnight hold w
In nightly revels, and new j

b tween

5

; lor wiht n the p! iV-
need none to be blamed.

it had pl iv’d Py ramus, and

Thisbe’s ¢ urter, if would have
and

SO il 18,

teh’d,
rulil’d
(ric nds,
e this solemnity,

rility, | fave

overw

to bed.—

SCENE IT.—Ent r Puck

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behow]s the
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores
All with weary ts isk fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching
Puts the wretch, that lies in wo
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all raping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide :
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team,

moon:

,

loud,

’

(1) Progress, (2) Overcome,

 

MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S

uck, Are sh

Wild a
in their various modes are well written, and give
the kind of pleasure which the author designed.
Fairies in his time were much in fashion ; common
tradition had made them familiar, and Speneer’s
poem had made them great,

  
  
 
  
  
 
     
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
      
    
  
    
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
   
   
   
 
    
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
     
    
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
    
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
 
   

DREAM. an a

rom the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,

Now are frolic: not a mouse

Shall disturb this hallow’d house:

I am sent, with broom be fore,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter Oberon and Titania, with their Train.
Uoe. Through this house give elimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:

Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier ;
And tl us ditty, after me,
Hing and dance it trippinely.

; Tula. First rehearse this song by rote:
l'o each Won da warbling note,
Hand in hand, with f ury grace,

Will we sing, and bless this place.

SONG, AND DANCE,
Obe. Now, until the break of day,

Through this house each f: uiry stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be:

_ d the } there create,
fortunate,
ll the couples three

ver true in loving be:

And the blots of nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand ;
Never mole, h areruip, nor scar,

Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.—
With this field-dew consecri ite,
Every fairy take his gait ;4

(nd each several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace
E’er shall it in safety rest,
And the owner of it bles

issue,

rs shall bi

alte

Ie
Sos
Ly

}
i
i
ec}
oi

Trip away ;

Make no SLAY :

all by break of day.

[“xeunt Oberon, Titania,

ulows have offended,
Think but this (and all is mended, )

That you have but slumber’d here, ,

While these visions did appear.

/Ind this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but adream,

Genlles, do not reprehend ;

lit

and Train.

If you pardon, we will mend.
“Ind, as 1am an honest Puck,
If we heave unearned luck

Now to scape the serpe nl’s tongue,
Ve will make amends, ere long:

iilse the Puck a liar call, :
So, good night unto you all.

(rive me your hands, if we be friends,
“Ind Robin shall restore amends, { Exit.

—_-—>——-

nd fantastical as this play is, all the parts

JOHNSON,

(3) Portentous,

(4) Way,Se aE RN DS

158 }

   
 

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST.

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Ferdinand, king of Navarre.

Biron,

Longaville, lords, altending on the king.
Dumain,

France.

Bovet, i! rds, attending on the princess of |Maria,

Mercade,

Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical Spaniard,

Sir Nathaniel, @ curate.
Holofernes, a schoolinaster.
Dull, a constable.

Costard, a clown.

Moth, page to Armado.

 

 

ACT I.

SCENE I.—Navarre. 1 park, with a palace

in it. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and|’ snd ak int

Dumain.
King.
Ler fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register’d upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death ;
When, spite of cormorant devouring ime
The endeavour of this present breath ma‘ y buy

| i

1A Forester.

:
iPrineess of France.

Rosaline,

ladies, allending on the princess.

\Katharine,
Jaquenetta, « country wench.

(Officers and others, altendants on the king ana

princess.

| Scene, Wavarre.

 

\nd, one day in a week to touch no food ;

‘And but one meal on every day beside ;

The which, hope, is not enrolled there :

{nd then to sleep but three hours in the night,

ve seen to wink of all the day ;

(When I was wont to think no harm all night,

\nd make a dark night too of half the day ;)

Which, I ae well, is not enrolled there

10, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep;

Not K sce ladies study, fast, not slee p.

| King. Y our oathis pass’d to pass away from these
Biron ct me say no, my liege, an if you please ;

rl only swore, to study with your grace,

That honour, which shall bate his sey the’s keen|And stay here in your court for three years’ space.

edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity,
Therefore, brave conquerors !—for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world’s desires,—
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force :
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world ;
Our court shall be a little académe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Birén, D: nain, and L ongaville,
Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes,
That are recorded in this schedule here :

Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names}

That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates th: smallest branch herein:

If you are arm’d to do, as sworn todo, -
Subscribe to your deep oath, and keep it too.

ee ‘

Long. I am resolv’d: ’tis but a three years’ fast}

The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates ; ay dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bank’rout quite the wits.

Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified ;
The grosser manner of these world’s delights
He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die
With all these living in p hilosophy.

Biron, I can but say their protestation over,
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,
That is, To live and study here three years,
But there are other strict observances :

not to see a woman in that term;
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there ;

 

| Jong. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
| Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in
jest.—
| What is the end of study? let me know,
| King. Why, that to know, which else we should
| not know.
| Biron. Things hid and barr’d, you mean, from
common sense ;

| Ki ir. Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense.
Come on, then, I will swear to study so,
io | know the thing I am forbid to know:
'As thus—To study where I well may dine,

When I to feast expressly am forbid ;
Or, study where to meet some mistress fine,
When n istress s from common sense are hid:
r, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,

‘On.

Study to | ake i it, and not break my troth.
iv study’s gain be thus, and this be so,

Study knows that, which yet it doth not know:

Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say, no,

| ing. These be the pee that hinder study guite,

‘And train ovr intellects to vain delight.

| Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that
most vain,

} Which, with pain purchas’d, doth inherit pain :

|As, painf ly to pore upon a book,

| To seek the like of truth; while truth the while

| Doth false ly" ‘blind the eyesight of his look :

| Light, seeking licht, doth light of light beguile :

1So, ere you find whe re light in darkness lies,

|Your light grows dark by Josing of your eyes.

1) Dishonestly treacherously,Scene I, LOVE'S LAI
Study me how to please the
By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
Who daz that eye shall be his he ed,
And give him li ght that was it blinded by.
Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun,
That wi
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save authority trot m others’
These ear thly godfathers of hi
That gave a name to eve!
Have no more profit of the

e indeed,

ling so,

base books.

aven’s lichts
ry lixed star

: hin lw

Than those that w _ ina wot not what they are.
. ; .
1 00 much to know, , to know nou eht but fame :
And every rodfather can five a name.
King. hae well ei read, to reason against
eading !
Dum. Prose well, to st yp all good pro-
ceeding |!
Long. He weeds the corn, and still Jets erow the

weeding,

ll not be deep-search’d with sauc y looks ;

   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
     
   
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
  
    
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
     
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
   

30UR’S LOST, 159
Therefore this article is made in vain,
Or vainly comes the admired princess hither,
King. What say you, lords? why, this was
quite for; got,
Biron, So stud y evermore is overshot }
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the t thing it should:
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,

"Tis won, as towns with lire ; so won, so lost.
King, We must, of force, dispense with this
de Cree
She must lie? here on mere necessity,
biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years’
Sspuce
or eve ry man with his affects js born ; °

a by might master’d,

If I break faith, this word shall « speak for me,
lam Crcdeiad on mere necessity,—
So to the laws af large

but by speci ial grace:

1 write my name:

Biron. The spring is n ar, when green gece [ Subscribes,
ss ?
are a breeding. And he that breaks them in the least degree,
Dum. How follows that ? ) U ] ta der of eternal sh: ume:
Biron. Fit in his place and time. Suggestions’ are to others, as to me ;
. © . ; j ] ey l4 ; can .
Dum. In reason nothine. rut, L believe, although J seem so loth,
Biron. Something then in rhyme .|f am the last that wv ll last keep his oath.
Long. Biron is like an envious sne aping' frost, | out Is there ho quien? recreation granted :
That bites the first-born infants of the spring K\ Ay, that there is: our court, you know,
Biron. Well, Say I am: why should proud suin- IS fia ited es a -
mer a ist, Wilh a refine i traveler of spain; ;
Before the birds have any cause to sine? A nin all th ld’s new fashion pl: inted,
Why should I joy in an abortive birth ? hat hath a mint of phrases in his brain : :
At Christmas, I no more desire a rose One _ Whom the mi Isic of va own vain tongue
Than wish a snow in May’ w-langled shows ; Voth 1 wish, tuke enc * inting harmony ;
4 } } : : t } \ tr) 4 : mie { er 4
But like of each thing, that in season grows, \ mi a { ¢ mpl ments, w om, a it ann wrong
So you, to study now it is too late, ae ve chose as umpire of their mutiny ;
Climb o’er the house to unlock the little te in chud of fancy y, that Armado hieht,®
King. Well, sit you out: go home, Birén: adieu! _ 2 or interim t 0 oul studies, shall re! ate,
— ‘1; | have sworn to stay|In hich-born words the worth of many a knight
Biron. No, my ¢ od loi l [ nay WOrn LO SLAY = 9
with you : ror tawny Pans lost in the world’s debate,
And thodah fhe for barbarism spoke moa How you delizht, lords, I know not, I;
Mi, UIVUYI skal a 1 i ' it j ‘ i] ° i ;
Than for that angel knowledge you can put | | ents te ar him <i
veer a a ; : : = ? ‘4 | 2 .
r id ) : Had lt Wiil use him [oi ninst
Yet confident Pll keep what I have swor Al Will Use him lor my m relsy.
And "bide the penance « alk 4dicun nat of Bir \rmado is a most illustrious wight,
Titi ili ui | Lick iif a t i if , i { ;
<2. , te wanes. Ist mm vend tha on \ 1 O! fire-new words, fashion’s own knight.
(vive me tne paper, | im bd Lh a is es hall b
And to the strict’st decres rll yw nee / Ui a tne swaln, and he, sha e our
rn) LO l - I . ~ tif Je Piehatla .
ore . : 1) #)h, ‘ lvls ur rpe e { { , S :
ig. How well thi es thee {i ' :
_ aie 3 ind, soc to study, three years is but short.
MAb Line , 0 ww
. r ‘Ty } } ¢} y ? a2 F
Biron. [Reads.] Item, That no NEN Si Liter Dull, with a letter, and Costard.
come within a mile of my couwrlt.—
And hath this been proclaim’d Dill. Which is the duke’s own person ?
: ‘Louw Four days aro. Ri his, fellow; What would’st?
ree Let’s see the penalty Dull. 1 myself reprehend his own person, for I
sti Vibes ‘ ‘ ui ; bathe . : .
[ Reads.|—On pain of losing her tonrue.— im jus grace’s tharborough :7 but I would sce his
Who devis’d this ?) own pt erson in flesh and blood.
Long. Marry, that did I. Biron. This is he.
Biron. Swect lord, and why ? Du Signuior Arme—Arme—commends you.—
To fricht then ce with that dread) There’s villany abroad ; this letter will tel] ou
Lone. To trient Liem itl f WAtil Ulidi il if
yenalty. mor ' ;
Biron . \ dangerous law against gentility. | Cos = the contempts thereof are as touching
) me i Qnvgerous iaw avai I
. I bn ball sai} :
Reads.) Item, Jf any man be seen to talk th :
nan emg | term of three yeu he shalli Ki ‘A letter from the magnificent Armado.
a r Lf i fic? Ct it Fd y ;
drayre such public shame a bihit 7 i f tite court Be roil. How low scever the matter, I hope in
fitd! C ott i t ‘ iit LD ‘ , :
ossiblu devise God for high words.
ait possloty devise— | : - ae :
7 . rti le my liewe, yourself must breal: - Jong. A high hope for a low having: God grant
his article, m) ey irseil Must vreak ; a
For, well you know, here cothes in embass\ p ee ae. aa
The French king’s daughtcr, with yourself to! Biron. To hear or forbs ar hearing ?
- sp uk, cks © : Los. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh mode-
Specaa,— 4 t
. mplete maiesty.— rately ; ort oes both.
A mi iid of grace, and col ape A ist) “? : r: , »
bout surre! ide r-up of Aq juitain ane We i, be it as the style shall give us
>

To her decrepit, sick, and bed- rid father :

(1) Nipping,
(3) Reside,

(2) Games, sports,
. 4) Temptations,

Cause

toe limb j in vila merriness,

(5) Live
(

ly, sprightly. (6) Called,
) a, €, third-borough, a peace-officer,

iCSG IS

Sal ss aR AE.

t60 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Act I.

Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning |swain, ) I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury;
Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, 1 was taken and si hall, at the least of thy sweet notice, Satire | her
with the manner. lo trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and
heart-burning heat of dul

Biron. In what manner
ir: all DON ADR ANO DE ARMADO.

Cost. In manner and form foll owing, SI;
those three: I was seen with her in the manor ie. ia * Me a a
house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken|,, Pron. This 1s not 80 well as I looked for, but
the best that _— I heard.

following her into the park; which, put together, |": ig . ‘
1s, in manner and form follo ving. Now, sir, for ane, Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah,
what say you to this ?

the manner,—it is the manner of a man to speak
. ‘' Cost. Sir, I confess the wench.

to a woman: for the form,—in some form. . rid
Biron. For the following, sir? King. vid you hear the proclamation ?
Cost. As it shall follow in my correction; and’, Cos!. I do confess much of the hearing it, but
; : ’ ’ ittle of the marking of it.

God defend the right! -- It was proclaimed a year’s impris
King. Will you he a this letter with attention? |, i et whe GIS 5 a year’s imprisonment,
Biron. As we would hear an oracle. r Cos ne 1 ‘ Pepe: re | er oo
Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken |. th ere cA LCN WILD DONG, Bike, 2 AOS. LARC
, ith a damose

after the flesh. i
or ody fine, Well: ,
King. [Reads.] Great deputy, the 1 welikin’s vice-|  ¢ 5 og ie Hl, it wi a) procli ase d ‘9 amosel, ;
cerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul’s /08b. This was no Gamosel ne it ier, sir ; sne was
7 i h’s ee aa ar : Virgin
earth’s God, and body’s foslering patr ay— Ki eF ‘od { for it feticad
: ey ing. is so varie . ‘as procl: 2
Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. vi cing. It is so varied too; for i was prociauned,
4 are ein
King. so 1t 1s,— ng j if if I ] } ° init I
on . Ost. | yere : r ne rir re re
Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he 1s, ta] th , i , 4 deny her virginity ; was
: : . cen with a maid.
in telling true, but so, so. nee :
Sian Peake King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir.
5° . ° : Cost. 'T} emai : ar + beni 2
Cost. — be to me, and every man that dares re Te maid will serve my turn, Sir. ,
not fight !— King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence ; You
Kin N shall fast a week with bran and water.
King. Ne words. Poek t Wal Fall th will tt
. . ’ ’ ° i “cal e or i ,
Cost. — of other men’s secrets, I beseech veu. i ot id ratber pray a month with mu on
rs ‘ . . . ; j j ait rridg Cc
Kung. So uw 48 besiered wilh savie-ct oured :
melancholy, I did’ commend the black-oppressing |» Ki ing " And Don Armado shi alt be be your keeper.—
: " : G |My lord Biron see h \ Lo ;
hawunour to the most whole ome pl vere of thy heali h. | ( ) on him cle live ra { "er.
giving air; and, as J am a gent nn -beleok my-| “2S £0 WS tree 2) Pe ae practice that
self to walk. The li ne when? About the sixth Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
hour ; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and Ds» [Eveunt King, Longaville, and Dumain.
men sit down te the at nourishment which is called| 7m.’ Pil lay my head to any good man’s hat,
supper. So much for the time v hen. Now for tl hese oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
ve a Or as ee 2 ~|__Sirrah, come on
rround which; toni h, I mean, I walked wpon : CO " i, ae! (. (] ‘i'd f ‘is
it is yele xed thy par Then for the place where ;|. t. I suffer for th truth, sir: for true it is, I
where, / mean, I did encounter that obscene an daca i ages at Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a
most preposterous ¢ vent, thal drarwe lh from mi ’ : ; | A ag Cl We, W ele a the lo cup of
‘ , : ; 2% nHrospe;rit Hhictio;r ay ) : ay > ‘
snow-white pen the ob m-celoured ink, which here|* yin ae” Micon may one Gay sme again,
thou viewest. behotdest, surveyest, or seest: but to and ull then, Sit thee down, sorrow! [Exeunt.

,]

the place, where,—Il stand hn ee. rth~east sc SCENE II.—Another part of the same. Arma-
oy east from the west corner of thy curious-h noltec do’s house. Enter Armado and Moth.
garden: there did I see that low-spirited swain,
that base minnow of thy mirth,

Cost. Me. spirit grows melancholy

| .Jrm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great

King. — that unletler’d small-knowing soul, | Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

Cost. Me. | rm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same

King. — that shallow vassal, thing, dear imp.

Cost. Still me. | Moth. No, no; O lord, sir, no.

King. — which, as I rememoe7, hivht Cos- /irm. How canst thou part sadness and melan-
lard, choly, my tender juvenal 7?

Cost. O me! | Mi th. By « familiar demonstration of the work.

King. — sorted and consorted, contrary to thy\ing, my tough senior.

established proclaimed edict an i continent canon.| rm. Why tough senior? why tough senior ?
with—with.—O with—but wilh this I passion to| Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
say wherewilh— | rm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, asa congruent
Cost. With a wench. lepitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which
King. — with a child of our grandmother Eve,) we may nominate tender. :
a female ; or, for thy more sweet uni lerstandit ne. a\ Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertinent
woman, Him I (as my ever-esteemed duly prick s\title to your old time, which we may name tough.
me on) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of| .Irm. Pretty, and apt. ‘
punishment, by thy sweet grace’s ofjicer, Intony| Moth, How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my
Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, | saying apt ! ? or I apt, and my saying pretty ?
and estimation. | = m. ~ nou pretty, because little. ;
Dull. Me, an’t shall please you; I am Antony oth. Liitle pretty, because little: Wherefore apt?
Dull. P oe m i therefore apt, because quick.
King. For Jaquenetta (so is the weaker vessel! Moth . Speak you this in my praise, master ?
called, which I apprehended awith the aforesaid| rm, In thy condien praise.
Ps 7 th. lt will praise an eel with the same praise,
| ?

(1) In the fact, (2) A young man, Irm. What? that an eel is ingenious ?

  
 
   
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
    
   
    
   
  
     
  
  
 
    
   
  
    
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
    
  
  
   
  
 
   
   
   
     
 
 
  
  
  
 
    

eacenentetnde thScene I.

“irm. I do say, thou art quick in answers: Thou|

heatest my blood.
Moth. | am answered, sir.
irm. 1 love not to be crossed.

‘Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses!
love not him.  [ Aside,

-irm. I have promised to study three years with}
the duke.

Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir.

irm. Impossible.

Moth, How many is one thrice told?

“irm. 1 am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of
a tapster.

Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir.

“Irm. 1 confess both; they are both the varnish
of a complete man. ;

Moth. Then, | am sure you know how much the
gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.

irm, It doth amount to one more than two.

Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three.

irm, True.

Moth. Why, sir,
Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink:
and how easy it is to put years to the word three, |
and study three years in two words, the dancing-
horse will tell you.

“irm, A most fine figure!

Moth. To prove you a cypher. [ Aside.

irm, l wil hereup mn conte 3s, | am i | | ve: and,
as it is base for a soldicr to love, so am I in lov
with a base wench. If drawing my sword against
the humour of aflection would deliver me from the
reprobate thought of it, I would take de sire pri-
soner, and ransom him to any French courtier fo1
a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh;
methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me,
boy: What great men have been in love ?

Moth. Hercules, master.

Arm. Most sweet Hercules!—More authe
dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let
them be men of good repute and carriage.

Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good
carriage, great carriage; for he carried the town

Moth. That an eel is quick.

is this such a piece of study

rity,

gates on his back, like a porter: and | was in love.
Arm. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Sam-
son! I do excel thee in my rapier, a5 much as thou

didst me in carrying gates. Iam in love too,—Who
was Samson’s love, my dear Moth!

Moth. A woman, master.

irm, Of what compl xion

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the tio;
or one of the four.

Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion.

Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir.

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions

Moth. As | have rea sil ; and the best of them
too.

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers: but
to have a love of that colour, methinks, Samson
had small reason for it. He, surely, aflected her
for her wit. :

Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.

Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are
masked under such colours. we:

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.

Moth. My father’s wit, and my mother’s tongue,
assist me!

Arm, Sweet invocation of a child ; most pretty,
and pathetical !

;

‘ )
i
;
y

1) The name of a coin once current.
®) Of which she is naturally possessed.

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 161

Moth. If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne’er be known ;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown:
Then, if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;
For still her cheeks possess the same,
Which native she doth owe.?
\ dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of
white and red.

“Irm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and
the Beggar ?

Moth. The world was very guilty of such a bal-
lad some three ages since: but, | think, now ’tis
not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither
serve for the writing, nor the tune.

/irm. 1 will have the subject newly writ o’er,
that I may example my digression? by some might
precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that 1
took in the park with the rational hind Costard ;
she deserves well.

Moth. To be whipped; and yet a better love
than my master. | Aside.

“irm. Sing, boy; my spirits grow heavy in love-

Moth. And that’s great marvel, loving a light
wench,

rm. I

Moth.

say, sing.
Forbear till this company be past.

Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta.
Dull. Sir, the duke’s pleasure is, that you keep
and you must let him take no delight,
nor no penance ; but a’ must fast three days a-week:
lor this damsel, I must keep her at the park; she
is allowed for the day-woman.* Fare you well.

Costard sale ;

irm. 1 do betray myself with blushing.—Maid,
Jaq. Man.
“Irm. I will visit thee at the lodge.

Jaq. That’s hereby.
-Irm. I know where it is situate.
Jag. Lord, how wise you are!

irm. 1 will tell thee wonders.
Jaq. With that face?
irm. I love thee.

Jaq. So I heard you say,
“Irm. And so farewell.

Jaq. Fair weather after you!

Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away.

[| Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta,

rm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences,
re thou be pardoned.

Cost, Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do
it on a full stomach.

Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished.

Cost. 1am more bound to you, than your fellows,
for they are but lightly rewarded.

Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up,
Moth. Come, you transgressing slave ; ou ke
Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast,
being loose.

Moth. No, sir;
shalt to prison.

Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of
desolation that I have seen, some shall see—

Moth. What shall some see ?

Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they
look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent
in their words; and, therefore, I will say nothing ;
'T thank God, I have as little patience as ano
man; and, therefore, I can be ee

[Exeunt Moth and Costard.
Arm. 1 do affect’ the very ground, which is base,

that were fast and loose: thou

|

 

(3) Transgression, (4) Dairy-woman, (5) Love,

     
  
  
 
   
    
     
  
  
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
    
 
    
    
   
 
 
 

ts

fc a’ en ™

Sad ec SS" MOET. 2. oa,

ees ae are

a

SUNT

SFT E CELE
a —_—

2ST ALE ITE TL ES

otykaie

ON eet

    
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
  

162 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. Act Il,
where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot,| Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
which is basest; doth tread. [ shall be forsworn|Of Jacques Falconbridge solemnized,

(which is a great argument of falsehood,) if I love :|In Normandy saw I this Longaville:

and how can that be true love, which is falsely at-| A man of sovereign parts he is esteem’d ;
tempted? Love isa familiar ; love is a devil: there| Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms ;

is no evil angel but love. Yet Samson was so| Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well.
tempted: and he had an excellent strength: yet)The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss,

was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very good| (If virtue’s gloss will stain with any soil,)

wit. Cupid’s butt-shaft! is too hard for Hercules’|Is a sharp wit match’d with too blunt a ns
club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s) Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still
rapier. The first and second cause will not serve! wills awa

my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello|It should none spare that come within his power.
he regards not: his disgrace is to be called boy;| Prin. Some merry mocking Jord, belike ; is’t so?
but his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour!; Mar. They say so most, that most his humours
rust, rapier! be still, drum! for your manager is| know.

in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extem-| Prin. Such short-liv’d wits do wither as they
poral ahd of rhyme, for, lam sure,I shallturnson-| __ grow.

netteer. Devise wit ; write pen ; for lam for whole! Who are the rest ?

yolumes in folio. [Evit.| Kath, The young Dumain, a well-accomplish’d
youth,
-——s—— ‘Of all that virtue love for virtue lov’d :

ACT TI Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill ;
AU ie For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
: ann tr ornese ‘ . " m.
SCENE I.—Another part of the same. A pavi- eee nt the dvke pace ne ara He om
. - . : 1D. ji Saw ‘ 1UKC ALen¢on'’s ONCe 5
lion and tents at a distance. Enter the I rincess And much too little of that cood I saw,
of France, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Is my report, to his great worthiness,
sords, and other attendants. Ros. Another of these students at that time
Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest?) Was there with him : if I have heard a truth,
spirits : Biron they call him: but a merrier man,
Consider who the king your father sends ; Within the limit of becoming mirth,
To whom he sends; and what’s his embassy : ‘I never spent an hour’s talk withal:
Yourself, held precious in the world’s esteem , His eye begets occasion for his wit ;
To parley with the sole inheritor For ¢ very object that the one doth catch,
Of all perfections that a man may owe, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ;
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weicht Which his fair tongue (eonceit’s expositor, )
Than Aquitain; a dowry for a queen. Deliver’s in such apt and gracious words,
Be now as prodigal of all dear zrace, That aged ears play truant at his tales,
As nature was in making graces dear, And younger hearings are quite ravished ;
When she did starve the general world beside, So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
And prodigally gave them all to you. Prin. God bless my ladies ! are they all in love ;
Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but! That every one her own hath garnished
mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utter’d by base sale of chapmen’s tongues :
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth, Prin.
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker,—Good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure ; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor :
Tell him, the daughter of the king of France,
On serious business, craving quick despatch,
Impértunes personal conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visag’d suitors, his high will.
Boyet, Proud of employment, willingly I go.

With such bedecking ornaments of praise ?

: | War. Here comes Boyet.
Re-enter Boyet.

Now, what admittance, Jord ?

Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach ;
And he, and his competitors? in oath,
Were all address’d* to meet you, gentle lady,
Before Lcame. Marry, thus much I have learnt,
| He rather means to lodge you in the field
|(Like one that comes here to besiege his court, )
Than seck a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house,
Here comes Navarre. [ The ladies mask.

Enter King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and at-
tendants,
King. Fair princess, welcome to the court of
Navarre.

| Prin. Fair, I give you back again; and, wel-
come I have not yet: the roof of this court is too
(high to be yours ; and welcome to the wild fields
too base to be mine.

[Evit.| King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is s0.—| court,
Who are the votaries, my loving lords, | Prin. I will be welcome then; conduct me
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke ? | thither.
1 Lord. Longayille is one. | King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.

Prin. Know youtheman?; Prin. Our lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
Mar. I know him, madam; at a marriage feast,| King. Notfor the world, fair madam, by my will,

j

(1) Arrow to shoot at butts with, (2) Best, (3) Confederates, (4) Prepared,Scene I. LOVE'S LABO
Prin. wii Will shall break it; will, and nothii
cise,
King. Your lad
Prin. Were my |

Ig

yship is ignorant what it is,

ord so, his ignorance were wise.
Where! now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear, your grace hath sworn out house-
“Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord
And sin to break it:

But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold ;
‘To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read

4

keeping :

’

the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

ae [Gives a paper.
if suddenly I may.
sooner, that I were away :
perjur’d, if you make me stay.
i dance with you in Brabant

King. Madam. I will,
Prin. You will the
For you'll prove
Biron. Did hot
once?
Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once ?}
Biron. I know, youdid. ~ |
Ros. How n
To ask the question !
Biron.

tos.

eedless was it then

You must not be so quick.
Tis “long of you that spur me with such
questions,

Biron. Your wit’s too

*twill tire.

Ros. Not till it leaves the rider in the mire.

Biron. What time o’ day ?

Ros, The hour that fools shouk ask,

Biron. Now fair befall your mask!

Kos, Fair fall the face it covers!

Biron. And send you many lovers!

kos. Amen, so you be none.

Biron. Nay, then will I be cone.

King. Madam, your father here doth intimate,
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his
But say, that he, or we (as lave, )
Receiv’d that sums yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more: in sur
One part of Aquitain is bound t
Although not valued to the money’s worth.
If then the king your father will rest
But that one half which is unsatisfied
We will give up our rightin A

hot, if spe

-3 too fast,

}
i

|
|
|
|
}
|

j

}
i
|
|
i

wars.
neither |

, e ,
L¥Y OL Lhe which,

) US,

ore

;

And hold fair friendship with his mais ty.
it that, it seems, he little purposeth
ul that, ! ( ns, ne i } ;
For here he doth demand to have repaid i

s
;
ired thousand ec:

A hun
Un payment ol

WIS °

and not demands,
a hundred thousand crowns,

She is an heir of Falcon]

  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
   
 
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
  
 
  

UR’S LOST. 163

| Boyet. So please your prace, the packet 1s not
come,

| Where that and other specialities are bound,
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them,

| King. It shall suffice me: at which interview
All liberal reason I will yield unto.

| Meantime, receive such welcome at my hand,
|As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness :

You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiy’d,

As you shall deem yours If lodg’d in my heart,

Though so denied fair harbour in my house.

our own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell ;
l'o-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your
. !
a, ace:

King. ‘Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!

[Exeunt King and his Train.

Lady, I will commend you to my own
heart.

"Pray you, do my commendations ; I would

ry*
buon.

vy)
1.08,

ibe glad to see it.

Biren. I would, you heard it groan?
Ros. Is the fool sick?
Biron. Sick at heart.
Ros. Alack, let it blood.
Biron. Would that do it good ?
Ros. My physic says, I,3
Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye ?
Ros. No poynt,* with my knile.
Biron. Now, God save thy life!
ftos. And yours from long living!
Biron, | cannot stay thanksgiving. [| Reliring.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is
that same ?
Boyet. The heir of Alencon, Rosaline her name.
Dum. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well.
‘ [Evit.
I beseech you a word; What is she in
the white ?~
\ woman sometimes, an you saw her in
the light.

Long. Perchance, light in the light: I desire her
> ? ¢ t

Ono.

y
~

name,
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire
that, were a shame.

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter ?
Boyet. Her mother’s, I have heard.

Es God’s blessing on your beard!
Boyel. Good sir, be not offended:

ale

pride C.

lo have his title live in Aquitain ; Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
cl | t} } ! {2 witha she 18s a most sweet lady

Which we much rather had depart? withal, one 3 ae sweet lady. t]} r be
And have the money by our father lent, Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be, Tat
TY an! geldex as it is [Exit Long.
Phan Aquitain so geldcc as it is. ; sole. i g
Dear princess, were not his requests so far Biron. What's her name, in the cap ?

Cu 39 ’ it i Cur ' u | : : ed
From reason’s yielding, your fair self should make Boyet. Katharine, by good hap.

A yielding, ’gainst some reason, in my breast
And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the kine my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name, |
In so unseceming to confess receipt |
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. |

King. I do protest, I never heard of it ;

'
)
|

And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back, |
Or yield up Aquitain. :
Prin. Wearrest your word: |

Boyet, you can produce acquittances,

For such a sum, from special oflicers

Of Charles his father.
King.

(1) Whereas.

Satisfy me so.

(2) Part. (3) Aye, yes,

Biron. Is she wedded, or no?

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.

Biron, You are welcome, sir; adieu!

Boyet. I'arewell to me, sir, and weleome to you.
| Lwit Biron.—Ladies unmask.

Mar, That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;

Not a word with him but a jest.

Boyet. And every jest but a word.

Prin, It was well done of you to take him at his
word,

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to
board,

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry !

Boyet. And wherefore not ships ?

(4) A French particle of negation,ete

BO tka Wee

Wi. ogee. of a

fig acs sidist cr, saline Pa

Pe PN RT

OE

PGS ST =

 

 

   
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
    
 
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
     
   
     
 
  
  
   
    
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
   
    

164 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Act ITI.

No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.|_ Arm. How means’t thou? brawling in French ?
Mar. You sheep, and I pasture ; Shall that finish} Moth. No, my complet e master: but to jig off
the jest? ja tune at the tongue’s end, canary* to it with your

Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. \feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids ; sigk
[Offering to kiss her.|}a note, and sing a note; sometime through the

Mar. Not so, gentle beast ; ; |throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love ; :
My lips are no common, though several! they be.| sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up
Boyet. Lelonging to whom ? \love by smelling love ; with your hat penthouse-

 

Mar. To my fortunes and me. like, o’er the shop of your eyes; with your arms
Prin. Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, |crosse d on your thin belly doublet. like a rabbit on
agree ; la spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man

The civil war of wits were much better used atten r the old painting ; and kee -P not too long in
On Navarre and his book-men; for here tis abused.|one tune, but a snip and away: These are com-
Boyet. If my observation (which very seldom| |plements, these are humours ; ‘these betray nice
wenches—that would be betrayed without these ;

ies,
By the heart’s still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes, |and make them men of note (do you note, men?)

Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. ithat are most affected to these.
Prin. With what ? | /irm. How hast thou purchased this experience ?
Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected.| Moth. By my penny of observation.
Prin. Your reason ? | rm. But O,—but O,—

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their! Moth. —thehobby-horse is forgot.
retire rm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse ?
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire Moth. No, master; the hobby-hor se is but a colt,
His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, |and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed, (forgot your love ;

His tongue, all impa tient to speak and not see, | rm. Almost I had.

Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be ; Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.

All senses to that sense did make their repair, rm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

To feel only looking on fairest of fair: | Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three

Methought, all his senses were lock’d in his eye, {I will prove.

As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy: | rm. What wilt thou prove ?

Who, tendering their own worth, from where they| Moth. A man, if I live: and this, by, in, and
were ol iss’d, ; without, en the instant: By heart ‘you love her,

Did point } you to buy ‘them, along as you pass’d. {because your heart cannot come by her; in he vart
His face’s own margent did quote such amazes, | you love her, because your heart is in love with her ;
That all eyes saw hia eyes enchanted with gazes:jand out of heart you love he r, being out of heart
Pll give you Aquils iin, and all that is his, [that you cannot enjoy her. C

An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. | frm. I am all these three.

|

n

Prin. “Come, to our pi avilion: Boyetisdispos’d—}| Moth. And three times as much more, and yet
Boyet. But to spe ak faa in words, which his|nothing at all!
eye hath disclos’d: | drm. Fetch hither the swain ; he must carry me
I only have made a mouth of his e ye, 1a letter.
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. | Moth. A message well sympathised ; a horse to
‘Ros. Thou art an old love -monger, and speak’st|be ambassador for an ass!
skilfully. | drm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou ?
Mar. He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns| Woth. M: Ary, sir, you must send the ass upon
news of him. | the horse, for he is ve ry slow-gaited: But I go.
Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her] rm. The w ay is but short; away.
father is but grim. | Moth. As swilt as lead, sir. :
Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches ? ! “irm. Thy meaning, p retty ingenious ?
Mar. No. |Isnot lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow ?
Boyet. What then, do you see?} Moth, Minimé, honest master; or rather, mas-
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. ter, no.
Boyet. You are too hard for me.| 4m. I say, lead is slow.

F Bhoonbit.| Moth.

You are too swilt,$ sir, to say 80;
Is that lead slow which is fir’d from agun?
s the gun
2>——
+ | “Irm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric !
fe reputes me a cannon; ind the bullet, that’s

 

ACT IIL. an
SCENE I.—Another part of the same. Enter'| I shoot thee at the swain.

Armado and Moth. Moth. Thump then, and I flee.

; [ Exit.

rm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense} «2m. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free
of hearing. : of grace !

Moth. Concolinel—— [ Singing. By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sich in thy face;

Arm. Sweet air !—Go, tenderness of ye ars; take Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him} My herald is return’d.
festinately? hither ; I must employ him ina letter ,
to iny love. J Re-enter Moth and Costard.
_ Moth. Master, will you win your love with a| Moth. A wonder, master; here’s a Costard®
French braw! ? broken in a shin.

(4) Canary was the name ofa sprightly dance,
(5) Quick, ready, (6) A head,

 

f A quibble, several signified unenclosed lands,
2) Hast*ty, (3) A kind of dance,Scene J. LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. 165

“rm. Saco eed some :.ddle: come,—thy|rance ; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing
Cost, N oh a : but this: Bear this significant to the country-mai
bn a ail. se: O ng riddle, no Penvoy ; no salve Jaquenetta: there is remuneration ; [Giving him

te mal, sir: Q, sir, plantain, a plain plantain ; money.] for the best ward of mine honour, Is, re-
no envoy, no Penvoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain!) warding my dependents. Moth, follow.  [Ezit.
“irm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy| Moth. Like the sequel, I,—Signior Costard,

silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs adieu.

provokes me to ridiculous smiling: O, pardon me,! Cost. My swect ounce of man’s flesh! my incony?
my stars! _Doth the inconsiderate take salve for Jew !— | Exit Moth
’ © _ ’ ‘ ‘Ar « . ro? T Aves : : : ;
Penvoy, and the word, envoy, for a salve? Now will I look to his remuneration. Remunera-

. Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not tion! QO, that’s the Latin word for three farthings :
envoy a salve 1 three farthings—remuneration.—Whal’s the price

“irm. No, page: itis an epilogue or discourse|of this inkle? a penny :—No, Pll give you a re-
to make plain muneration : why, it carries it.—Remuneration !—
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been| why, it isa fairer name than French crown. I will

sain, never buy and sell out of this word.
I will example it: ’

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Enter Biron.

Were still at odds, being but three. | Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly
There’s the moral: Now the Penvoy. well met. oy

Moth, I will add the Penvey: Say the moral! Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon
again. |may a man buy for a remuneration ?

irm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, | iron. What is a remuneration ?

Were still at odds, being but three : | Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.
Moth. Until the goose came out of door, | Biron. O, why then, three-farthings-worth of silk.
And stay’d the odds by adding four. | Cost. I thank your worship: God be with you!
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow} Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee:
with my (envoy. |As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bec, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
Were still at odds, being but three : Cost. When would you have it done, sir ?

-irm. Until the goose came out of door, Biron. O, this afternoon.

Staying the odds by adding four. Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well.

Moth. A good Penvoy, ending in the goose ; Biren. O,thou knowest not what it is.

Would you desire more? | Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose,} Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.

that’s flat :— | Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow
Sir, your pennyworth,is good, an your goose be|morning.
"fit eme | Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark,
To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and|slave, it is but this ;—
loose : |The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
Let me see a fat Penvoy ’ ay, that’s a fat goose. And in her train there is a gentle lady — ;
irm. Come hithe r, come hither: How did this) VV hen tongues spe ak swee tly, then they name her
argument begin ? name,
Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in| And Rosaline they call her: ask for her ;
a shin. 'And to her white hand see thou do commend
Then call’d you for the envoy. | This seal’d-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon ;* gO.
Cost. True, and I for a plantain; Thus came| [ Gives him money.
your argument in; | Cost. Guerdon,—O sweet euerdon ! better than
Then the boy’s fat l’envoy, the goose that you|r muneration ; eleven-pence farthing better : Most
bought ; isweel ruerdon !—] will do it, sir, in print.4—Guer-
And he ended the market. |don—remuneration. : [Ezxit.
Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard| Pet aie T, forsooth, in love! I, that
ae Ol shin ? lhave been love’s whip ;
RE a eT eet you sensibly. |A very beadle to a humourous sigh ;

. : » * 1) ane s a" sal - . . ve x
Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will A critic ; nay, a a ie coppterty
speak that Penvoy :— 25 }A domineering pet att er fhe ee 5
. : . ‘ne calply w } } ‘ yTY ort s ac > i
I, Costard, running out, that was sat ly within, Than W hom no mortal so m gn l€ nt nai Sip
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. | This whimpled,* whining, purblind, wayward boy ;
Arm, We will talk no more of this matter. | Phis senior-junior, pan dwe upd
Cost. Till there be no more matter in the shin. Regent of love-1 hymes, ord 0 fo . arms,
4rm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. |] he anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
a . + b : : . } . : : : .
Cost. O. marry me to one Frances:—I smell] Liege of all loiterers and nee
, . ; & J ; o as | nace . Joon ‘ . selcets 6 . o . <
some Penvoy, some goose, in this. | Dread prince of plac kets, king ot codpieces,
Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at |Sole imperator, and pre eer es
. » - . . . 2 . sed . 2 . - . e - —- 0 “3 es y e ear Rus
liberty, enfreedoming thy person ; thou wert im-! Of trotting paritors, - my : is g
od ained, captivated, bound |And I to be a corporal of his field,
mured, restrained, captivated, Le habe ee teeta |
Cost. True, true: and now you will be my pur-| And wear his colours like a tumbler’s } p!
gation, and let me loose |What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
frm. 1 cive thee thy liberty, set thee from du-|A woman, that is like a German clock,
os + - 4 J .
oncluding verses,| (4) With the utmost exactness.

1) An old French term for c | (4) S.
witch served cither to convey the moral, or toad-| (5) Hooded, veiled. (6) Petticoats,
dress the poem to some person. (7) The officers of the spiritual courts who serve

i
(2) Delightful. (3) Reward, citations.rr a ge

SRR COE TG a LTE

 

7

eee ae

eee

  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
 
   
  
   
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
   
   

166 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Act IV,

Sti bunt Enter Costard.
te eer Prin. Here comes a member of the common-
wealth.

Cost, God dig-you-den!' all! Pray you, which 1s
the head lady ?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest
that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest ?

Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! itis so; truth

is truth.

An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit
One of these maids’ girdles for your waist shoulc

g; ever out of frame ;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch’d that it may still go right ?
Nay, to be perjur’d, which is worst of all ;
And, among three, to love the worst of all ;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes ;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan ; be fit.

; Bus : z g a: As E a “2 > thickes

Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. Are not you the chief woman ? you are the thickest
; here.

Exit. |
| Prin. What’s your will, sir? what's your will?
Cost. I have a letter from monsicur Biron, to ore
lady Rosaline.

| Prin. O, thy letter, thy Ictter ; he’s a good friend
of mine :

Enter|5tand aside, good bearer.—Boyet, you can carve ;

annie

 

AGT IV.

SCENE I.—Another part of the same. a
the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, | Break up this capon.?
Lords, attendants, and a Forester. | oyet, __,L am bound to serve,—
‘ lhis letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
Prin. Was that the king, that spurr’d his horse|It is writ to Jaquenetta.
so hard ak ite We will read it, I swear:
Against the steep uprising of the hill ? | Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
Boyet. 1 know not; but, I think, it was not he. 5 Boyect. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair,
Prin. Whoe’er he was, he show’d a mounting|is most infallible; truc, that thou art beauteous ;
mind, truth itself, that thou ert lovely : More fairer than
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch; — (fair beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth
On Saturday we will return to France.— [if self, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal !
rhen, forester, my friend, where is the bush, |The magnanimous and most illustrate? king Co-
That we must stand and play the murderer in? —|phetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice; |beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that mirht
A stand,-where you may make the fairest shoot. —|rightly say, veni, vidi, vici ; which to anatomize in
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, |the vulgar (O’base and obscure vulgar !) videlicet,
And thereupon thou speak’st, the fairest shoot. |he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw,
For, Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so, _ jfwo; overcame, three. Who came? the king ;
Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again| Why did he come? to see; Why did he see? to
say, no? overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar;
O short-liv’d pride! Not fair? alack for wo! What saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he?
For. Yea, madam, fair. ithe beggar: The conclusion is victory; On whose
Prin. Nay, never paint me now; |side ? the king’s : the captive is enriched ; On whose
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. |side? the berrar’s , The catastrophe is a nuptial ;
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true; | On whose side? the kin ¢’s—no, on both in one, or
[Giving him money. |one in both. Iam the king ; for so stands the com-
Fair payment for foul words is more than due. jparison: thou the bezgar; for so witnesseth thy
For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. |lowliness. Shall I command thy love? 1 may :
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav’d by merit.| Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat
O heresy in fair, fit for these days! thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.—|rags ? robes; For tittles, titles: For thyself. ine.
But come, the bow :—Now mercy goes to kill, | Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy
A shooting well is then accounted ill. foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
Thus will f save my credit in the shoot : levery part. , ; ;
Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t ;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. Thus d
And, out of question, so it is sometimes ;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes ;
When, for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward part, |
We bend to that the working of the heart:
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill
The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill.
ee not curst wives hold that self-sove-| this letter ?
Only for praise’ sake, when they strive to be i” pees uo weathercock? did you ever hear
Lords o’er theirlords ? ao stl . se
Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford) Rage om poh deceived, but I remember
any lk ats sa lor ; Tp, : :
To any lady that subdues a lord, | Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o’er uf
erewhile.*

Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado.
ost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey ;
Submissive fall his princely feet before, :
And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ?
‘Food for his rage, repasture for his den.
| Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited

(1) God give you good even.

(2) Open this letter, (3) Illustrious, (4) Just now,Scene I. LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. 167

Boyet. Thi. Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps|When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it
here in court : were, so fit
. ~ , - “ : . 7
A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport Armatho o’ the one side,—O, a most dainty man!
To the prince, and his book-mates. |T'o see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan !

Daas my) . lian . . .
Prin. hou, fellow, a word:|T'o see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly
Who gave thee this letter ? a’ will swear !—

Cost. a [ told you ; my lord,|And his page o’ t?other side, that handful of wit!
hy I'o whom should’st thou give it ? |Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
ns

From my lord to my lady. |Sola, sola! [ Shouting within.

Prin. From which lord, to which lady? [Exit Costard, running’,
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine

To a lady of France, that he call’d Rosaline. SCENE [1.—The same. Enter Holofernes, Sir
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come. | Nathaniel, and Dull.

“ lords, a ae . Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in
cit, SW } ge it »" thine any verte} ‘3 ’ : 7 2]
e, Sweet, put up this; twill be thine another|the t stimony of a good conscience.

' Gays) [£zit Princess and Tram.| Hol. The deer Was, as you know, in sanguis,—
Boyet. Who is the suitor * who is the suitor? |Blood; ripe as a pomewater,! who now hangeth
Ros. Shall I teach you to know ? | like a Jewel in the ear of calo,—the sky, the welkin,
Boyet, Ay, my continent of beauty. the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the
Ros. Why, she that bears the bow. | face of terra,—the soil, the land, the earth.

Finely put off!

, | Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets
Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou ie

ire sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But,

marry, ee sir, L assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
Hang me by the neck, uf horns that year miscarry.| Aol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
f inely put on! ot Dull. *Pwas not a haud credo, twas a pricket.
Le s. Well then, I am the s! ooter. — Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of
poyet. ; _ .. And who is your deer?/insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explica-
Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come) tion : Jacere, as it were, replication, or, rather,
. ne ostenlare, to show, as it were, his inelination,—after
Finely put on, indeed !— his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned,
Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she| untrained. or rather unlettered, or ratherest, uncon
B Strikes atthe brow. firmed fashion—to insert again my haud credo for
soyct, But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit!a deer.
r her now Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud credo;
tos. Stall come upon tnec wit n old saving, twas a pricket.
that was a man when king Pepin of France was a| Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus !—O thou
little boy, as touching the hit it? monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old,) Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that
that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain|are bred in a book: he hath not eat paper as it
was a little wench, as touching the hit it. were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not
Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it. [Sincine, |replenished ; he is only an animal, only sensible in
Thou canst not hit it. od man. the duller parts ;
Boyet. .4n I cannot, cannot, cannot. {nd such barren plants are set before us, that we
: An I cannot, another can. ; thankful should be-
(Pe it Ros. and Kath.| (Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts

that do fructify in us more than he.
oF ’ ‘or as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet,
fit it! :
: : w 1 shot 7 ora fool,
‘ar. A mark imarpyenous Welt shot; for 'ey!So, were there a patch? set on learning, to see him
both dia, hill it. 3 | in a schcol :
Boyet. A mark! O, mark but tha But, omne bene, say 1; being of an old father’s mind,

tlie mus tne Teale | E
mark, says my | i. > +,|Many can brook the weather, that love not the
Let the mark have a prick in’t, to mete at, if if 7 wind.

; 4] i on aie 2 hae a. 329
Cost, By my troth, most pleasant! how both did/|y

|

may be. a Duil. You two are book-men: Can you tell by
Mar. Wide o’ the bow hand! [’faith, your hand} your wit,

is out, What was a month old at Cain’s birth, that’s not
Cost. Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er} fiva weeks cif af Vall

hit the clout. | Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, good
Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your| man Dull.

hand is in. . | Dill. What is Dictynna ?
Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cl veBe Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.

the pin. . | Hol. The moon was a month old, when Adam
Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips | was no more:

)
And raught? not to five weeks, when he came to five

score.

:
crow foul.

Cost. She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir ; chal-

lenge her to bowl. rif |'The allusion holds in the exchange.
Boyet. 1 fear too much rubbing ; Good night, my) Pull. ’Tis true indeed ; the collusion holds in the
good owl. [Exeunt Boyet and Maria. l exchanee.

Cost. By my soul, aswain! amostsimpleclown!| Hol. God craton thy capacity! I say, the allu-
1 how the ladies and I have put him down! sion holds in the exchange.
cord. lord! how the ladies anc ; 9 | :
Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the ex-
‘change; for the moon is never but a month old:

(’ my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar
wit !

(1) A species of apole. (2) A low fellow. (3) Reached.ao y a
Sty anne aes

a Bi ised a ae

 

 

  

168 LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST. “Act IP.

and I'say beside, that ’twas a pricket that the prin-|Though to myself forsworn, to thee Vll faithful
cess kill’d. , prove ;
Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal} Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like
epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour} | osiers bowed. ,
the ignorant, I have call’d the deer the princess|/Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine
kill’d, a pricket. :. li¥ese
Nath. Perge, good master Holofernes, perge;| Where all those pleasures live, that art would
so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. comprehend :
Hol. 1 will something affect the letter; for it|If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suf-
argues facility. _ . ' ye ne Pr
The praiseful princess pierc’d and prick’d a pretty| Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee
pleasing pricket ; ; | ; commend : :
Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made| All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without won-
sore with shooting. , Ser;
The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps| (Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts
from thicket ; | admire ;)
Or pricket, sore, or else sorel ; the people fall a|Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears,

 

thy voice his

hooting. dreadful thunder,
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; O| Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire.
sore L f Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong,

Of one sore Ia hundred make, by adding but| That sings heayen’s praise with such an earthly
one more L, tongue !
Nath. A rare talent ! Hol. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss
Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how he claws | the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here
him with a talent, |are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy,
Hol. 'This is a gift that I have, simple, simple ;/ facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovi-
a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, |4ius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso;
shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, |)ut for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy,
revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of|the jerks of invention? Jmitari, is nothing: so doth
memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater ; and|the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired
deilver’d upon the mellowing of occasion: But the|horse’ his rider.—But damosella virgin, was this
gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and 1 am/directed to you?
thankful for it. i Jaq. Ay, sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of
Nath, Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so/the strange queen’s lords. i
may my parishioners ; for their sonsare well tutor’d| //ol. t will overglance the superscript. To the
by you, and their daughters profit very greatly un-|S?0w-tw/rite hana », the most beauteous Lady Rosa-
der you: you are a good member of the common-/|/te. I will look again on the intellect of the letter,
wekith. |for the nomination of the party writing to the person
Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they | Written unto:
shall want no instruction: if their daughters be! Your ladyship’s in all desired employment,
capable, I will put itto them: But, vir sapit, qui). __ ; BIRON,
pauca loquitur:; a soul feminine saluteth us. | Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the yotaries with
ithe king; and here he hath framed a letter to a se«
que nt of the stranger queen’s, which, accidentally,
Jaq. God give you good morrow, master person. ot ay the ey of progression, hath miscarried.—
Hol. Master parson,—quasi pers-on. And if one|_ np on go, my sweet ; deliver this paper into the
should be pierced, which is the one ? as hand of the king ; it may concern much : Stay
Cost. Marry, master ‘schoolmaster, he that pi? compliment ; I forgive thy duty ; adieu!
likest to a hogshead. | Jaq. Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save
Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of > oY ate ee ,
conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, | Cost. Have with thee, my girl.
pearl enough for a swine: ’tis pretty: it is well. — ee [Exeunt Cost. and Ja .
Jaq. Good master parson, be so.good as read me|_.” ‘at . Sir, you have done this in the fear of God,
this tke: it was given me by Costard, and sent|*“) religiously ; and, as a certain father saith——
me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it. | sas x bee _ I not mre the father, I do fear
Hol. Fauste, orecor welida qudiido pecs omne| ourable colours. But to return to the verses ;
sub umbrad. 7 id I ney piease you, sir Nathaniel /
Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan!| ae Marvellous well for the pen.
I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice : | ; : oo dine ae at the father s of a certain
Vinegia, Vinegta, |Pupil of mine ; where if, before repast, it shall
Chi non te vede, ei non te pregia. | Please you to gratily the table with a grace, I will,
Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth | 2” my privilege [ have with the parents of the fore-
thee not, loves thee not.—Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fateh or child’ or pupil,’ undertake your ben venuto :
Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, | Se il r " a those verses to be very unlearn-
as Horace says in his—W hat, my soul, verses ? + nei net savouring ol poetry, wit, nor invention »
ath. Ay, sir, and very learned. | Vath, h your society, .
Hol, Let me hear a staff, a stanza, averse; Lege, | N ath, And thank you too: for society (saith the
domine. ? 5 >| text) is the happiness ot life.
Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall 1| Hol. And certes,? the text most infallibly con-
swear to love? ; \cludes it.—Sir, [Jo Dull.] I do invite you too; you
Ab, never faith could hold, if not to beauty eae not say me, nay: pauca verda, Away ; ‘the
vowed ! ei |gentles: are at their game, and we will to our
recreation. | Exewnt,

Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.

 

‘ly Horse adorned with ribbands, (2) In truth,Scene III.
SCENE III —Another part of the same. Enter}

Biron, with a paper,

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am|
Coursing myself: they have pitch’d a toil; I am|
toiling in a pitch; pitch that defiles ; defile! a foul!
word, Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so, they|
say, the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool,
Well proved, wit! By the lord, this love is as mad
as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep:
Well proved again on my side! I will not love: it
I do, hang me ; i’faith, I will not. UO, but her eye)
by this light, but for her eye, | would not love her;
yes, for her two cyes. Well, Ido nothing in the
world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, |
do love: and it hath taucht me to rhyme, and to
be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and
here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my)
sonnets already ; the clown bore it, the fool sent if,
and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool,
sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care
pin if the other three were in: Here comes one
with a paper; God give him grace to groan!

[Gels up inte a tree,

}
a

per.

Enter the King, with a pa

King. Ah me!

Biron. [ Aside. ] Shot, by heaven !— Proceed,
sweet Cupid; thou hast thump’d him with thy!
bird-bolt under the left pap :—I’faith secrets, —

King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the gotden sun

gives not

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,

As thy cye-beams, when their Sresh rays have

The nicht of dew that on my cheeks down flows :

iol
7LOLE

Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
4s doth thy face through tears of mine give light ;
Ye

Thou shin’st in every tear t
V0 drop but as a coach doth carry thee,
So ridest thou tritimphing in my wo :
Do but behold the tears that swell in :
And they thy glory through thy crief will show :
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep,
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel !
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.—
How shall she know my grief? I'll drop the paper;
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here ?
[Steps aside,

hat Ido weep:

j
i

Le

Enter Longaville, with a paper.

What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.
Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one
appear !

Long. Ah me! | am forsworn.
Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wear-
ing papers. [.@stde.
King. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in
shame ! [ Aside.
Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name ?|
[. Iside. |
Long. Am I the first that have been perjur’d so ?|
Biron. [.4side.] I could put thee in comfort; not|
by two, that I know :
Thou mak’st the triumviry, the corner-cap of|
society,
The shape of love’s Tyburn that hangs up sim-|
plicity.
Long. 1 fear these stubborn lines lack power to}
move:
O sweet Maria, empress of my love!

more fool,

/lside.
[

(1) Outstripped, surpassed.

LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST.

   
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
   
    
 
    
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 

169

These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Biron, [.4side.] O, rhymes are guards on wanton
Cupid’s hose:
Disfigure not his slop.
Ang. This same snall go.—
{He reads the sonnet.
Nid not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye
( Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, )
Persuade my heart to thts false perjury ?
Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punishment.
woman I forswore; but, I will prove,
Lhou being a goddess, I forswore not thee ;
My vow was eartily, thou a heavenly lave ;
hy grace being gained, cures all disgrace in me,
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is :
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth
shine,
Exhal’st this vapour vow ; in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine ;
If by me broke, What fool is not so wise,
1'o lose an oath to win a paradise ?
siron. [Iside.] This is the liver vein, which
makes flesh a deity ;
\ green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! we are much out o’
the way,

I

Enter Dumain, with a paper.

Long. By whom shall I send this ?—Company !
stay. | Stepping astde.
[.dside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant
play :
Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools’ seerets heedfully o’er-eye.
More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish :
Dumain transform’d: four woodcocks in a dish !
Dum, O most divine Kate!
Biron. O most profane coxcomb! [Astde.
Din. By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron. By earth, she is but corporal; there you

Biron.

lie. [Astde.
Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber

coted,!
Biron. An amber-colour’d raven was well noted,
[ Aside.

Dum. As upright as the ecdar.

Biron, ' Stoop, I say;

Her shoulder is with child. [ 4side,
Dum. As fair as day,
Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must

shine. [ Aside,
Dum. O that I had my wish!
Lone. ‘And I had mine! acne
King. And I mine too, good Lord! Aside.
Biron, Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good
word ? [ Aside.

Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remember’d be.
Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then inci-
sion
Would let her out in saucers ; Sweet misprision !
| Aside,
Once more I’ll read the ode that I have
writ,
Biron. Once more [ll mark how love can vary
wit. Aside.
Dum, On a day (alack the day !)
Love, whose month ts ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton arr; .
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, gan passage find ;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven’s breaths
YX

Dum.Sey slits > aii ey gaa Red 9 aoa

ie, Ee tee

ar

 

TE a

ST

EEG

z 5

+2 age RET

eee

a en

ir, quoth he, thy cheeks may biow ;
Air, would I might triwmph so!

But alack, my hand is sworn,

Ne’er lo pluck thee from thy thorn :
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet ;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.

Do not call it sin in me,

That Iam forsworn for thee :

sn few whom even Jove would swear,
Juno bul an Ethiop were ;

And deny himself for Jove,

Turning mortal for thy love.—

This will I send; and something else more plain,

That shall express my truc love’s fasting pain,
QO, would the king, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,

Woutd from my forchead wipe a perjur’d note ;
For none offend, where all alike de dote.

Leng. Dumain, [advancing.] thy love is far from

charity,
That in love’s grief desir’st socicty :
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o’erheard, and taken napping so.

King. Come, sir, [advancing.] you blush ; as|The treason, and you, go in peace away together.

his your ease is such;
You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Lonzaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile ;
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,

And mark’d you both, and for you both did blush,
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ’d your fashion :
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:

Ah me! says one; O Jove! the other cries ;

One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other’s eyes:

You would for paradise break faith and troth ;

[To Long.

And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.

{Zo Dumain.

What will Biron say, when that he shall hear

A faith infring’d, which such a zeal did swear?

How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit ?

How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?

For all the wealth that ever I did see,

I would not have him know so much by me.
Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy, —

Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:

[ Descends from the tree.
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove

These worms for loving, that art most in love ?
Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears,
There is no certain princess that appears :
You'll not be perjur’d, ’tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting,
But are you not asham’d? nay, are you not,

All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot ?

You found his mote ; the king your mote did see .

But I a beam do find in each of three,

O, what a scene of foolery I have seen,

Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen !3

O me, with what strict patience have I sat,

To see a king transformed to a gnat!

To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,

And profound Solomon to tune a jigg,

And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,

And critic? Timon laueh at idle toys!

Where lies thy erief, O tell me, good Dumain ?

And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?

And where my licge’s? all about the breast :—

A caudle, ho!
King. Too bitter is thy jest.

(1) Grief. (2) Cynic. (3) In trimming myself.

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST.

   
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
 
  
     
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
  
    

Act LY

Are we betray’d thus to thy over-view /

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray’d to you;
I, that am honest ; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in ;
I am betrayed, by keeping company
With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme ?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute’s time
In pruning? me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb ?—

King. Soft; Whither away so fast ?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so

Biron. 1 post from love ; good lover, let me go.

Enter Jaquenctta and Costard.
Jaq. God bless the king!
King. What present hast thou there ?
Cost. Some certain treason.
King. What makes treason here?
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
King. If it inar nothing neither,

 

| Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read;
‘Our parson misdobts it: twas treason, he said.
| King. Biron, read it over. [Giving him the letter.
| Where hadst thou it ?
| Jag. Of Costard.,
| King. Where hadst thou it?
| Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
King. Tow now! what is in you? why dost
thou tear it ?
Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy ; your grace needs
not fear it.
Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore
let’s hear it.
Dum. It is Biron’s y; riting, and here is his name.
[Picks up the pieces.
| Biron, Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To Cas-
tard.] you were born to do me shame.
Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess,
| King. What?
| Biron. That you three fools lack’d me fool to
| make up the mess:
j
|
|
}
i

Ie, he, and you, my liege, and I,
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.

Biron. True, true; we are four :—
| Will these turtles be gone ?
King. Hence, sirs, away.

| Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the trai-
| tors stay, [Exeunt Cost, and Jaq.
Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us em-
brace!
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be:
‘The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face ;
Young blood will not obey an old decree :
| We cannot cross the cause why we were born ;
| Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn.
King. What, did these rent lines show some
love of thine ?
Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the
heavenly Rosaline,
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,
At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head ; and, strucken blind,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,

 

| That is not blinded by her majesty ?
King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir’d thee

| now ?Scene III.

My love, her mistres
She, an attending
Biron. My eyes are

Ss. 18 a fracious moon ;
star, scarce seen a licht.

O, but for my love, day we ould turn to nicht!
of all’ complexions the cull’d sovereionts
Do meet, as at ; t fair, in her fair cheek -

Where sever: ul wort thi es m ike one dig

Where nothing wants,
seek.

Lend me the flourish of all eentle tonrues.—

lie, painted rhetoric ! QO, she ne

To thin; rs of sale

nity ;

a seller’s praise belongs :

She passcs pratsc > the n pral : too short de
blot.
A wither’d hermit, five-score wi rs worn,
Mieht sh ike off fifty, lool ing’ in her eve
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,
And gives the crutch the eradle’s in{ mney.
QO, ’tis the sun, that maketh all thines shine
Kine. By heaven, thy love is black ; ebony.
Biron. 1s cbony like her? O wood divine! -
A wife of such wood were felicity.
O, who can give an oath? where is a ho yc ?
That I may sive ir, beauty doth beauty lac] :
If that she Jearn not of h re olook:
No fa . Is fair, th Lis not full so black.
King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell.
The hr le of dite’ ons, and the scowl of nj rht :
And beautvy’s crest becomes the heavens we: ll,
Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirit
of light.
QO, if in black my lady’s brows be deckt.
It mourns, that painting, and usurpin’ hair.
Should ravis| 1 doters with a false aspéct;
And therefore ‘3 she born to make black faj
Her - ey turns the fashion of the «
For native blood is counted painting now:
And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise.
re s itself bl ck, to imitate her brow
Dum. To look like her, are chim - SWC
beck
Long. And, since her tin e col counte
bright.
King. And Ethio ps of their swect c np!
crack.
Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark
ight.
Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rai
For fear the ir colours shoul | be vy | d LWA
King. ’Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell
you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day
Biron. [ll prove her fair, or talk till dooms-d
here
King. No devil will fright thee then so much
she.
Dum. I never knew man hold vile stu » d

Long.

face see. [Showing hi (
Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thi
eyes,

Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!
Dum. O vile! then as she goes, whai upwai
lies

The street should see as she walk’d over
head. 3
King. But what of this? Are we not all in love?

Biron. nothing so sure ; and thereby
sworn.
King. Then leave this chat;
now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn
Dum. Ay, marry, there ;
evil,

and,

LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST.

then no eye: sy nor | Birén:

that want itself dot

h ar.
Look, here’s thy love: my foot and he r
11.0, then his
ill for-

good Birén,

—some flattery for this

  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
 
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
  
    
  
  
   
  
   
  
     
  
  
  
   
    
       
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 

71

| Long. O, some authority how to proceed ;
; Some tr ic ks, some quillets,! how to cheat the devil.

Dum. Some salve for perjury.

Biron. O, ’tis more than need !—
Have at you then, affect ion’s s men at arms:
Consider, what you first did swear unto : i—

To fast,—to study,— and to see no woman ; ;

Flat treason ’eainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young
ate ebstinence engenders maladies.

ms where that you have vow’d to study, lords,

in that each of you hath forsworn his book :

C; m you still dream, and pore, and thereon look ?
lor when would you, my lord, or you, or you,

HH: Lve fou ind the gro und of study’s excellence,
Without the be auty of a woman’s face ?

Irom women’s e yes this doctrine I derive ;

They are the ground, the books, the académes,

rom whence doth spring the tr ue Promethean fire,
Why, universal plodding prisons up

The nimble spirits in the Settled

\s motion, and long- -during action, tires

The sinewy vigour of the traveller.

N« for not looking on a woman’s face,

You hi ve in that forsworn the use of eyes

And study O85 the causer of your vow:

a“

‘or where any author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye?
Learning ts but an adjunct to ourself,

{nd where we are, our le arning likewise i is.
an

hen, whe ‘n ourse Ive S we see In ladies’ eycs,

Dow t likewise see our learning there y?
O, we have made a vow to study, lords ;

And in that vow we have forsw orn our books ; °
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contempl tion, have found out

S ich fhery numbe rs, as the prompting eyes

Of beauteous tutors have enrich’d you with?

Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ;
(nd therefore finding barren practisers,

ce ye a harvest of their heavy toil:
But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes
Lives not Bick immured in the brain ;
But with the motion of all cle ments,
Courses as swift as thought in every power ,
Ay }

| vives to every vole ra double power,
.bove their functions and their offices.
lt adds a precious seeing to the eye;
\ lover’s eves will — an eagle blind ;
A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound,
When = suspicious head of theft is stopp’ d;
ee tive ris more soft, a sensible,

are the tender horns of cockled snails ; :
Love’ s tongue prove s dainty Bace hus gross in tastes
‘or valour, is not love a Hercules,

ill climbing trees in the Hesperides?
es as sweet, and musical,

cht Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair :
when love speaks, the voice of all the gods
; heaven drow sy with the harmony.
vever durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until } - ink were temper’d with love's s sighs ;
lines would ravish savage ears,
\nd plant in tyr ants mild humility.
From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive :

as sphinx:
And,

1
NJ

They ’ sparkle still the right Promethean fire ;
They are the books, the arts, the académes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world ¢
Else, none ‘at all in aught proves excellent :

Then fools you were these w omen to forswear ;

Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools,

or wisdom’s sake, a w ord that all men loye ;

(1) Law chicane.Sar nm ee

Guan ee age

i

ry

-

ee ee

Or for love’ ’s sake, a word that loves all men;
Or for men ’s sake, the author’s of these w omen ; :
Or women’s sé ike, by whom we men are men;
Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourse lves,

Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths ;

It is religion to be thus forsworn :

For charity itself fulfils the law ;

And who can sever love from charity ?

King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the

field !

Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them,

lords
Pell-mell, few n with them! but be first advis’d,
In conflict that you get the sun of them.
Long. Now to plain- dealing; lay these glozes by:
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?
King. And win them too: therefore let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents,
Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them
thither
Then, homeward every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Fore-run fair love, strewing her way with flowers.
King. Away, aw ay! no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
Biron. Allons! Allons !—Sow’d cockle reap’d
no corn ;
And justice always whirls in equal measure :
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn ;
If so, our copper buys no better treasure.

’

[ Exeunt.|

ot

ACT Y.

SCENE I.—nother part of the same. Enter

Holofernes, Sir Nathanicl, and Dull.
Hol. Satis quod sufficit.

Nath, I praise God for you, sir: your reasons!
at dinner have been sharp and sententious ; pl
sant without scurrility, witty without affection,
audacious without impudency, learned without

opinion, and strange without heresy. I did con-|

verse this quondam day with a companion of the
king’s, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don
Adriano de Armado.

Hol, Novi hominem tanquam te: His humour
is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed,

his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his gene-|

ral behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical.*

He is too picked,* too spruce, too affected, too odd, |
| ;

as it were, too perigrinate, as I may call it.

Nath. A most singular and choice epithet.

[ Take s oul hi is table-boc k .

Hol, He draweth out the thread of his verbosity}
finer than the staple of his argument. Labhor such
fanatical phantasms, such insociable and point-de-
vise’ companions ; such rackers of orthography, as
to speak, dout, fine, when he should say doubt
det, when he should pronounce debt; d, e, b, t
not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, haut;
neighbour, vocalw, nebour ; neigh, .bbreviated,
ne: This is abhominable (whic h hs would eall
abominable, ) it insinuateth me of insanie; Ne
intelligis domine ? to make frantic, lunatic.

Nath, Laus deo, bone intelligo.

(2) Affectation.

\2 iscourses,
(4) Over-dressed.

Boastful.

(1
(3
(5) Finical exactness,

 

172 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Act V.

  
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
    
 
   
      
   
  
  
   
    
    
    
  
 
 
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
      
   
   
 
  
 
   

 

Hol. Bone ?7——bone, for bené: Priscian a little
scratch’d; ’twill serve.

Enter Armado, Moth, and Costard.

Nath. Videsne quis venit ?

Hol. Video, et gaudeo.

Arm. Chirra!

Hol. Quare Chirra, not sirrah ?

/Irm. Men of peace, well encounter’d.
Hol. Most military sir, salutation.
Moth. They have been at a great feast of Jan

ruages, | and stolen the scraps. [To Costard aside,
Cost. O, they have lived ong in the alms-basket
of eeeiad I marvel, thy master hath not eaten
thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the
head as honorificabilitudinilatibus : thou art easier
swallowed than a flap-dragon.®

Moth. Peace; the peal begins.

Arm. Monsieur, [Zo Hol.] are you not letter’d ?

Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook :—
What is a, b, spelt backward, with a horn on his
head ?

Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.

Moth. Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn :—You
hear his learning,

Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant ?

Moth. The third.of the five vowels, if you re-
peat them; or the fifth, if I.

Hol, I will repeat them, a, e, i.—

Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it;
O, U.
irm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterra
Ineum, a sweet touch,” a quick venew of wit: snip,
snap, quick and home; it rejoiceth my intellect :
| true wit
| Moth. Offer’d by a child to an old man; which
is Wi it-old,
| Hol, What is the figure? what is the figure 7
| Moth. Horns,
| Hol. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip
ithy gig.
| «Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I
will Whip about your infamy ciretun cired; A gig
of a cuckold’s horn ?
Cost. An I had but one penny in the world,
thou should’st have it to buy gingerbread : hold,
there is the very remuneration I had of thy master
thou half-penny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of
idiseretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased, that
thou wert but my bastard! what a joyful father
would’st thou make me! Go to; thou hast it ad
dunghitil, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.

Hol. O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for un-

oem
| Sue

 

[To Moth.

 

file

/irm, Arts-man, preambula; we will be singled
from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at
ithe charge-house® on the top of the mountain ?
Hol. Or, mons, the hill.

| frm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain,
| Hol. I do, sans question,

| lrm. Sir, it is the king’s most sweet pleasure
land affection, to congratulate the princess at her

;|}pavilion, in the pos teriors of this day ; which the

; jrude multitude call the afte rnoon,
| Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous
sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the
jaf ‘noon: the word is well cull’d, chose; sweet
and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure.

Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman; and
my familiar, I do assure you, very good friend :—

(6) A small inflammable substance, swallowed
in a a ss of wine.

(7) A hit (8) Free-school.Scene IT. LOVE’S LAB
For what is inward! between us, let it pass :—I do!
beseech thee, remember thy courtesy ;—I beseech!
thee, apparel thy head ; and among other importu-
nate and most serious designs,—and of
port, indeed, too ;—but let that pass :—for I mus
tell thee, it will please his grace (by the world)
sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder: and with
his royal finger, thus, dally with my excremént,?
with my mustachio: but sweet heart; let that pas
By the world, I recount no fable: some certain
special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart
to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath
seen the world: but let that pass.—The very all of
all is,—but, sweet heart, I do implore
that the king would have me present the princess,
sweet chuck,? with some delightful ostentation, or
show, or pageant, or antic, or fire-work. Now.
understanding that the curate and your sweet self,

ereat im-
t

s

secrecy,—

i

4
are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking |
out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you
withal, to the end to crave your assistance,
Hol, Sir, you shall | her the nine
worthies.—Sir Nathaniel, as conc rning some en-
tertainment of time, some show in the posterior of
this day, to be rendered by our assistance,—th

yresent before

king’s command, and this most gallant, illustrate.
and learned gentleman,—before the princess ; |]
say, none so fit us to present the nine worthies,
Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough
to present them ?
Jol. Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant

gentleman, Judas Maccabeus; this swain, |
of his great limb or joint, shal
great; the page, Hercules.

“irm. Pardon, sir, error: he is not quantity
enough for that worthy’s thumb :
as the end of his club.

Hol. Shall I have audience he shall present
Hercules in minority; his enter and exit shall be
strangling a snake ; and I will have an
that purpose.

CauUust

| pass P ym pey the

he is not so bio

?

Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the!
audience hiss, you may cry: well done, Hercules !
mow thou crusheth the snake! that is the way to
make an offence gracious ; though few have the
grace to do it, ‘ ss

irm. For the rest of the worthies ?

Hol. I will play three myself.

Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!

“irm. Shall I tell you a thing ?

Hol. We attend.

/irm. We will have, if this fadge* not, an antic.
] beseech you, follow.

Hol. Via,* good man Dull! thou has spoken no
word all this while

Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir

Hol. Allons ! we will employ thee. ;
Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will

play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them|

dance the hay.
Hol, Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
creunt,

SCENE II.—4nother part of the same. Before
the Princess’s Pavilion. Enter the Princess,
Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria.

Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady walled about with diamonds!— _
Look you, what I have from the loving king. ;
Ros, Madam, came nothing else along with that

1) Confidential. (2) Beard. (3) Chick.
33 Suit, (5) Courage, (6) Grow,

 

.
apology for

  
  
    
   
   
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
    
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   

OUR’S LUST. 173

Prin. Nothing but this? yes, as much love in
rhyme
As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of pa
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent cad a
That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
itos. That was the way to make his god-head
wax :°
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Ros, You'll ne’er be friends with him ; he kill’d
your sister,
Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy ;
And so she died: had she been light, like you,

er,
ly

ie
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might have been a grandam ere she died:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
Ros, What's your dark meaning, mouse,’ of this
light word ?
Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark.
Ros. We need more light to find your meaning
out.
Kath. You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuff ;*
Therefore, P’ll darkly end the argument,
Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still ? the dark,
Kath. So do not you; for you are a light wench.
Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light.
Kath. You weigh me not,—O, that’s, you care not
for me.
Ros, Greatreason ; for, Past cure is still past care.
Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.
ut Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Vho sent it? and what is it?
Ros. I would, you knew:
{n if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Birén:
The numbers true ; and, were the numb’ring too,
[ were the fairest goddess on the ground ;
I am compar’d to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter !
Prin. Any thing like ?
Ros. Much, in the letters ; nothing in the praise.
Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion,
Kath, Fair as text B in a copy-book,
Ros.’Ware pencils! How? let me not die your
de btor,
|My red dominical, my golden letter:
O, that your face were not so full of O’s!
Kath. A pox of that jest! and beshrew all shrows !
Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Du-
main?
Kath. Madam, this glove.
Prin, Did he not send you twain?
Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover,
|Some thousand verses of a faithful lover:
huge translation of hypocrisy,
lely compil’d, profound simplicity.
Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa:
ville ;
|The letter is too long by halfa mile.
Prin. I think no less; Dost thou not wish in
heart,
The chain were longer, and the letter short 7
Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never
part,
Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so.
Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so,
That same Birén I'll torture ere I go.
O, that I knew he were but in by the week!
How would I make him fawn, and beg, and seek,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes ;

ir
5

>
>

I

\
’

|
}

|

1A
j
y

I

i
|
| I
i
}
:

 

(7) Formerly a term of endearment. (8) In anger,Serene

  

  
 
  
 
  
    
  
 
  
 
 
  
    
     
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
 
  
  
    
  
    
 
   
  
    
   
    
      
   
 
   
    
   
  
  

74 LOVE’S LABJUR’S LOST. Act P.

And shape his service wholly to my behests ; |Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear ;
And make him proud to make me proud that jests '} And then the king will court thee for his dear ; ;
So portent-like would I o’ersway his state, |Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine :
That he should be my fool, and [ his fate. ‘So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. —

Prin. None are so surely caught, when they arc;And change you favours too; so shall your loves

catch’d, (Woo ¢ aus ry, deceiv’d by the se removes.

As wit turn’d fool ; folly, in wisdom hatch’d, | tos. Come on then; wear the favours most in sight,
Hath wisdom’s warrant, ‘and the he ‘Ip of se hool Pane But, in this changing, whatis your intent ?

And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool. | Prin. The effect of n 1y inte nt is, to cross theirs:
Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such he -y do it but in mocking merriment ;
excess, And mock for mock is only my intent.
As gravity’ $ revolt to wantonness. Thy ir SEY eral counsels they unbosom shall
Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a pee T'o loves mistook; dnd so be mock’d withal,
As foolery in the wise, when wit td th dote Upon the next occasion thet we meet,
Since all the power thereof it doth apply With visages display’d, to talk, and greet,
To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. | tos. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t !
: eae Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot:
Enter Boyet. sar to their penn’d speech render we no grace ;
Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. But, w hue ts : poke, each turn away her face,
Boyet. O, Lam stabb’d with laughter! vi here’s| Boye. Why, thatcontempt will kill the speaker's
her grace ? _ heart, f !
Prin. Thy news, Boyet? ind quite divorce his memory from his part,
Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare !—)__ Prin. Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt,
Arm,” wenches, arm ;_ encounters mounted are ae rest will ne’er come in, if he be out:
Against your peace : Love doth approach disguis’d, There hae such sport, as sport by sport o’erthrown ;
Arm’d in arguments ; you'll be surpris’d: Lo make theirs ours, and ours none but our own;
Muster your wits ; stand in your own defence ; SO shall we stay, moc king i intended game ;
Or hide your heads like cow ards, and fly hence. And Lney, well moc kd, de part away with shame.
Prin. Saint Dennis to saint Cupid! What ar ' ae [Trumpets sound within.
they, | Boyet. The trumpet sounds . be mask’d, the
That shares dete breath against us? say, scout, say. | maskers come. | The ladies mask,
1 veoh Dar ciwire vou ’ if Ee tah Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain,
ieee , iu Russian h wits, and masked; Moth, musi-

Ww hen, lo! to interrupt my purpos’d rest,
Toward that sh: ide I might behold addrest

CLANS, GN tattle ndants,

 

The king and his companions: w arily Moth. Allhail ! Ut e richest beauties on the earth !

I stole into a neighbour thicket by, | Boyet. Beauties no ric her than rich taffeta.

And overheard what you shall ove rhear | Moth. 4 holy parcel of the fairest dames,

That, by and .by, disguis’d they will be here. [he ladies turn their backs to him,

Their herald is a pretty knavish page That ever hurn'’d their—backs—to mortal views !

That well by heart hath conn’d his emba save : Biron, Their eyes, villain, their eyes

Action, and accent, did the *y teach him there ; Moth. Zhat ever turn’d their eye sto mortal vie ews!

Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear : Out—

And ever and anon they made a doubt, Boyet. True; out, indeed,

Presence majestical would put t him out: | Moth. Out of zyour fap urs, heavenly spirits,

oy quoth the king, an angel shalt thou see ; vouchsafe ’
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously. Not to behold—~

The boy replied, An angel is not evil ; | Biron. Once to behold, rogue.

T should have fear %l her, had she been a devil Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed

With that all laugh’ d, and clapp’d him on the} eyes,——avith your sun-beamed eyes—

shoulder ; Boyel. They will not answer to that epithet ;

Making the bold W ag by their praises bolder. You were best call it, dauchter-beamed eves.

One rubb’d his elbow, thus; and fleer’d, and swore,|| Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings

A better speech was never spoke before: me ou >

Another, with his finger and his thumb, | Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you

Cry’d, Via! we will do’t, come what will come: | rorue. : ’

The third he caper’d, and cried, .9ll goes well : | os. What would these strangers? know their

The fourth turn’d on the toe, , and down he fell. minds, Boyet

With that, they all did tumble on the ground, |If they do speak our langu: ive, *tis our will

With such a zealous laughter, so profound, | That some } ain man recount their purposes :

That in this spleen ridic ulous appears, (Know what they would.

To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears. Boyet. \What would you with the princess ?
Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?} Biron. Nothing but pea acl and gentle visitation.
Boyet, The y do, the ydo; and are apparel’d thus, Ros. W : at would they, say the y?

Like uscovites, or Russians : as I ruess, Boyet. Nothing but peace Ang gentle visitation.

Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance: Ros. W hy, that they have ; and bid them so be

And every one his love-fe ‘at will advance gone, :

Unto his several mistress; which they’ll know Boyet. She says, you haveit, and you may be gone,

By favours several which the y did bestow. King. Say to he r, we have measur’d many miles,
Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be|'To tread a measure with you on this grass,

task’d :-— Boyet. They say, that they have measur’d many
or, ladies, we will every one be mask’d ; a hile,
fetes a man of them shall have the gr: Ve e, To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Despite of suit, to see a lady’ s face,— Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inchesScene II. LOVE’S LABOUR'S Lost,

Is in one mile: if they have measur’d many,
he measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If, to come hither you have measur’d miles
And many niles ; the princess bids you tell,
How many inches do fill up ove mile,

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps

oyet. She hears herself. :

Pe F y
Ros. ; How many weary teas, Kath, Wh
Of many weary miles you have o’ergone,

176

Mar. Name it.
Dum. Fair lady,—
Mar. Say you so? Fair lord,—
| Take that for your fair lady.
| Dum. Please it you,
-|As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
[They converse apart,
at, was your visor made without a

 

. te ' u tongue ?
d ‘cae = din “ are of one mile? Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
tron. ¥Ve number nothing that we spe ‘you; : or your reason ‘ ckly, sir ;

fa pane pend foryou;| Kath, O, for your reason? quickly, sir; I long.

) y 48 so rich, so infinite, | Long. You have a double tcngue within your
we may do it still without accompt. mask,

wes fi 1 : Sipe ache Ya i a ae ‘ * 1

ouchsafe to show the sunshin¢ of your face, And would aflord my speechless visor half.

That we, like Savages, may worship it.

| Kath. Veal, « : . r
- Yeal, quoth the Dutchman ;—Is not veal
Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. | a call’?

_ King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!|| Long. A calf, fair lady ?

Vouchsafe, bright moon,and these thy stars, toshine| Kath.

(Those clouds remov’d, ) upon our wal’ry eyne,
tos. O vain petitioner ! beg a greater matter ;

| No, a fair lord calf.
Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water. \

Long. Let’s part the word.
Kath. No, Pll not be your half:
lake all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

ing. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these

_ one change : sharp mocks!
Thou bid’st me beg; this begging is not strange. | Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Ros. Play, music, then : nay, you must do it} Kath. Thendiea calf, before your horns do grow.
soon. [Music plays.| Leng. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Not yet ;—no dance :—thus change I like themoon.| Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you
King. Will you not dance? How come you thus ;

| cry, [They converse apart.
estrang’d ? | Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as
Ros. You took the moon at full ; but now she’s| keen

chang’d. As is the razor’s ede invisible,
King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. | Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen ;
The music plays ; vouchsafe some motion to it. Above the sense of sense: so sensible
Ros, Our ears vouchsafe it. ‘Seemeth their conference ; their conceits have

King. But your legs should do it. | wings,
Ros, Since you are strangers, and come here by | Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
chance, | things,

We'll not be nice : take hands ;—we will not dance. |

os. Not one word more, my maids; break off,
King. Why take we hands then ?

break off.

; : ;
os. Only to part friends i Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff?
Court’sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. | King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple
King. More measure of this measure; be not nice. | wits,

Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize you yourselves; What buys your|
company ?

Ros. Your absence only.

[Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, music,
and attendants,

Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.—
|Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at ?

King. That can never be.!  Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths
Ros, Then cannot we be bought: and so adieu; | ouff’d out.
Twice to your visor, and half once to you! | tos. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross

King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat. | py RMR stg a tette

Ros. In private then. |_ Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout !

King. I am best pleas’d with that.| Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night ?

[ Z'hey converse apart. | Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ?

Biron, White-handed mistress, one sweet word|This pert Birén was out of countenance quite,
with thee. | Ros. O! they were all in lamentable cases!

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is| The king was weeping-ripe for a good word,
three. | Prin. Birén did swear himself out of all suit.

Biron. Nay then, two treys (an if you grow so| Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword ;
nice, ) No point 2 quothI: my servant straight was mute.

’ r . . ete 2 . s
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey ;—Well run, dice!} Kath. Lord Longaville said, Lenene o’er his heart;
There’s half a dozen sweets. And trow you, what he call’d me ?

Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu! aoe a: Sika Qualm, perhaps.
ince you can cog,' I’ll play no more with you. Kath, Yes, in good fai Bist

oeiren One eel in ianek Prin, _ Go, sickness as thou art!
Prin, Let it not be sweet.| Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-
Biron. Thou griey’st my gall. ae _caps.> Peg ' |
Prin, Gall? bitter. |But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
Biron Therefore meet.| Prin. And quick Birén hath plighted faith to me.

[ They converse apart.| Kath, And Longaville was for my a born.
r all a . 7. . ain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
. Will you vouchsafe with me tochange a| Muar. Dumain is mine,
ies word ; Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here

 

ta} A aul oe. the French adverb of negation, (3) Better wits may be found among citizens,

ae e-eres

  
 
  
    
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
   
      
   
    
   
  
   
   
   
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 

whch Wis tp een 2 ein on ini BeSn atone re et

Ser a ney

ee De ine Ty

f
yes

TT

ie NSN Reaarihn

 

 

=p: i

176 LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST. Act V.
In their own shapes ; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.

Prin. Will they return ?

Boyet. They will, they will, God knows ;
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore, change favours ;'! and when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in the summer air.

Prim. How blow? how blow? speak to be un-

derstood.

Boyet. Fair ladies, mask’d, are roses in their bud :
Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels veiling clouds, or roses blown.

Prin, Avaunt, rere 7 What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?

Res. Good madam, if by me you’ll be advis’d,
Let’s mock them still, as well known, as disguis’d: |
Let us complain to them what fools were here, og would not yield to be your house’s guest ;
Pisguis’d like Muscovites, in shapeless* gear ; 50 much I hate a breaking cause to be
And wonder what they were; and to whaf end

|Of heavenly oaths, vow’d with integrity.
Their shallcw shows, and prologue vilely penn’d, King. O, you have liv’d in desolation here,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,

Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Should be presented at our tent to us. | Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear.
Boyel. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at/|

King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave.
King. We came to visit you; and purpose now
To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then.
Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your
vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur’d men.
King. Rebuke me not for that which you pro-
voke ;
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should
have spoke ;
For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,

 

We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game;
hand, A mess of Russians left us but of late.
Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over Jand. King. How, madam ? Russians ?
[Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria.|_ Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord ;
‘Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
: | Itos. Madam, speak true :—It is not so, my lord ;
in their proper habits. My lady (to the manner of the days,®)
Kwmg. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the| In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.
princess ? |W e four, indeed, confronted here with four
Boyet. Goneto hertent: Please it your majesty, | In Russian habit: here they stay’d an hour,
Command me any service to her thither ? * |And talk’d apace ; and in that hour, my lord,
King. That she yvouchsafe me audicnce for one| They did not bless us with one happy word.
word. 1 dare not call them fools; but this I think,
Boyet. I vill; and so will she, I know, my lord. When they are thirsty, tools would fain have drink.

Eater the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, |

[Evit.| Biron, This jest is dry to me—Fair, gentle
Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons} _ _ sweet,
peas ; Your wit makes wise things foolish ; when we greet

And utters it again when God doth please: | With eyes best seeing heaven’s fiery eye,
He is wit’s pedlar; and retails his wares | By light we lose light: Your capacity
At wakes, and wassels,? meetings, markets, fairs ; | Is of that nature, that to your huge store
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, | Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Have not the grace to grace it with such show. | Ros, This proves you wise and rich, for in my
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve ; eye,—
Had he becn Adam, he had tempted Eve: Biron. 1 am a fool, and full of poverty.

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue,

He can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he,
That kiss’d away his hand in courtesy ;

t Biron. O, 1 am yours, and all that I possess.
Ros. All the fool mine ?

This is the ape of form, monsicur the nice, |
In honourable terms! nay, he can sing Biren I cannot give you less.
|
}

That when he plays at tables, chides the dice
~ )

Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore?

Biron. Where? when? what visor? why de-

A mean‘ most meanly ; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet ;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss liis feet: mand you this?
This is the flower that smiles on every one, | Jos. There, then, that visor ; thatsuperfluous case,
To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone: | That hid the worse, and show’d the better face.
And eonsciences, that will not die in debt, | King. We are descried: they'll mock us now
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. downright.
ing. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my| wm. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
heart, Prin. Amaz’d, my lord ? Why looks your high
That put Armado’s page out of his part! ness sad?
. : ra ' 7 a ,
Enter the Princess, usher’d by Boyct; Rosaline, _ — ? hic grows | he’ll swoon ! Why
Maria, Katharine, and attendants. Sea-sick, | think, coming from Muscovy.
Biron. See where it comes!—Behaviour, what| Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for
wert thou, perjury.
Till this man show’d thee ? and what art thou nov ?| Can any face of brass hold longer out 7}
King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of|Here stand J, lady; dart thy skill at me;
day! Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;
Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foui, as I conceive. Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance ;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen coneeit ;
1) Features, countenances,
3) Rustic merry-meetings, 5) The tooth of the horse-whale.

(2) Uncouth.
4) The tenor in music, (6) After the fashion of the times,Scene If, LOVE’S LABOUR'S LOST.
And I will wish thee never more to dance, | T see the trick on’t ;—Here tas a consent?

, _.Or never more in Russian habit wait. | (Knowing aforehand of our merriment, )
QO! never will I trust to speeches penn’d, | l’o dash it like a Christmas comedy:

_ Nor to the motion of a school-boy’s tongue; [Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight
Nor hever come in visor to my friend “i zany,*
mm gv OFr Woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song: |Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some
Paffata phrases, silken terms precise, Dick,—
eae a hree-pil’d hyperboles, spruce affectation, Phat smiles his cheek in years ; and knows the trick
Figures pedantical ; these summer-flies Lo make my lady laugh, when she’s dispos’d,—

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : old our intents before: Which once disclos’d,
I do forswear them: and I here protest | Uhe ladies did change favours ; and then we,

177

rm

 

$

By this white glove, (how white the hand, (

l, God|l’ollowing the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.
knows !) | Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d | We are again forsworn ; in will, and error.
In russet yeas, and honest ke rsey noes: |Much upon this it is:—And might not you,
And, to begin, wench,—So God:help me, la !—+ : [To Boyet.
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. ;
|

lorestal our sport, to make us thus untrue ?
Yo not you know my lady’s foot by the squire, ®
Yet Ihave a trick} And laugh upon the apple of her eye 2
Of the old rage :—bear with me, Iam sick; | And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
I'll leave it by decrees, Solt, let us see ;— |__ Holding a trencher, jesting merrily 2
Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three ; | You put our page out: Go, you are allow’d ;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies: | Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud,
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes :| You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye,
These lords are visited ; you are not free, Wounds like a leaden sword
For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see. |  Boyet.
Prin. No, they are free, that gave tl
to us.
Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. |
Ros. It is not so; For how ean this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue ?

uc
Biron. Peace ; for I will not have to do with you.! Welcome

Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.
Biron.

Full merrily
ge, this career, been run.
Liron. Lo, he is tilting straight ! Peace ; I have
]
qaone,

1ese tokens| Hath this brave mana

Enter Costard.

pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
i

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. | Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know,
Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an} Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no,
end. | Biron. What, are there but three,
King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude Cost. No, sir ; but it is vara fine,
~ transgression 'l’or every one pursents three.

Some fair excuse. Biron.

And three times thrice js nine.
Prin. The fairest is confess ion. | Cost. Not SO, Sir; under correction, sir; I hope,
Were you not here, but even now, disguis’d ? itis not so:

.

King. Madam, I was. | You cannot beg us, sir, T can assure you, sir; we
Prin. And were you well advis’d ? know what we know r
King. I was, fair madam. | hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—
Prin. When you then were here,! Duron. Is not nine.
What did you whisper in your lady’s ear ? , Cost. Under corre ction, sir, we know whereuntit
King. That more than all the world I did r spect |it doth amount.
her.

| Livon. By Jove, I always took three threes for
| Hine.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re-
ject her.

Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get
King. Upon mine honour, no.

your living by reckoning, sir.
Prin. Peace, peace, forbear ; | Biron. How much is it? ;
y 4 4 orsrwwear | loot I" sir > ¢ ri
Your oath once broke, you force? not to forswe: r.; Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the

t>
{

King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount:

Prin. I will; and therefore keep it: »j!or my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect

What did the Russian WW hisper in your ¢ ar / jone man,—e’en one poor man ; Pompion the great,
Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold m dear| sir.

As precious eye-sight ; and did value me | Biron. Art thou on of the worthies ? he ot

Above this world: adding thereto, moreoy ry |} Cost. it pleased them, to think me worthy o

That he would wed me. or else dic mv lover. |Pompion the great: for mine own part, [know not
‘ “9 e . _- . s
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord| the degree of the worthy: but I am to stand for him.

“-
¢ - ity)
M o-——FLOSAIIN

me

rably doth up! his word | Siron. Go, bid them prepare.
Most honourably doth uphold his word, EB Go, k 1p ;
, kin What mean you, madam? by my life, my! Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir ; we will take
”" troth a re | some care. [ Exit Costard.
to | wees eee a :
I never swore this lady such an oath. ca | INES rae they will shame us, let them not
av rou did ; -onfirm it plain, | approach.
Ros. By heaven, you did ; and to confirm it plain, | a pproac ; a
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. wa | Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and ’ti:
‘ing. My faith, : is, the princess I did give ; | some policy
King. My faith, and this, the prince: lid give;) peelicy ae
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. |To have one show worse than the king’s and his
I e, sir, this jewel did she wear ; company.
ay -ardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear ; 7 |
noite Blcée I thank him, is my dear :— King. Isay, they shall not come. '
A : > . rw) . f ai Rhiac ua ae z : a
What : will vou have me, or your pearl again ? ETON. Nay, my eood lord, let me o’er-rule you
=" 2 % ee 5 . ' oc oa
Biron. Neither of either ; I remit both twain, now ;

(1) Mistress, (2) Make no difficulty, (3) Conspiracy, (4) alae (5) Rule,

heer Sil NS ets aa seSSL ES LG AG Rae TS

178

i That sport best pleases, that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth ;
When great things labouring perish in their birth,
i Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 

ig aN

Enter Armado.

TET a PE,

Senin

4rm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of

thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.
| Armado converses with the King, and delivers
him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God ?

Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God’s making.

‘irm. That’s all one, my fair, sweet, honey
. monarch: for, I protest, the school-master is ex-|
cecding fantastical ; too, too vain; too, too vain :|
But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della|
guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal}
couplement!

 

 

{Exit Armado. |
King. Here is like to be a good presence of wor-,
i thies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, |
i Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander ; |
lit Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas
he Machabeus. |
}

;

And if these four worthies in their first show thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the
other five.
Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceiv’d, ’tis not so.
Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hex
priest, the fool, and the boy :—
Abate a throw at novum;! and the whole world|
again,
Cannot prick? out five such, take each one in his vein.
King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes|
amain.
[Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c.
Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter Costard
arm’d, for Pompcy.

Cost. I Pompey am,

Ige-

f
4

 

Boyet. You lie, you are not he. |
q Cost. I Pompey am,—
Boyet. With libbard’s head on knee.

 

Biron. Well said, old mocker ; I must needs be
friends with thee.
Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam’d the big
Dum. The great.
Cost. It is great, sir;—Pompey surnam’d the
great ;¥
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make
; my foe to sweat:
And, travelling along this coast, I here am come
by chance ;
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass
of France.
If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, 1
had done,
Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.
Cost. ’Tis not so much worth ; but, IT hope, I
was perfect: I made a little fault in, great.
Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves
the best worthy.

)

Enter Nathaniel arm’d, for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv’d, I was the
world’s commander ;
By east, west, north, and south, J spread my con-

A game withdice. (2) Pick,

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST,

'Enter Holofernes arm’d, for Judas

  

Act y.

My ’scutcheon plain declares, that f am Alisander.

Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it
stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most teri+
der-smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay’d: Proceed,
good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv’d, I was the
world’s commander ;—

Boyet. Most true, ’tis right; you were so, Ali-
sander.

Biron. Pompey the great,

 

Cost. Your servant, and Costard.
Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away
Alisander.

Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown
Alisander the conqueror? You will be scraped out
of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds
his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to
A-jax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror,
and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisan-
der. [Nath. retires.] There, an’t shall jlease you ;
a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and
soon dash’d! He is a marvellous good neighbour,
in sooth ; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisan-
der, alas, you see, how ’tis ;—a little o’erparted :—
But there are worthies a coming will speak their
mind in some other sort.

rin, Stand aside, good Pompey.

l

Moth

, and
arm d, for Hercules.
Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
Whose club jilld Cerberus, that’ three-headed
canus ;
And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus :
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority ;
Ergo, I come with this apolory.—
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Ex. Moth.
Hol. Judas [ am,—
Dum. A Judas!
Hol. Not Jscariot, sir.—
Judas I am, ucleped Machabaus.
Dwn. Judas Machabzus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron, A kissing traitor :—How art thou prov’d
Judas ?
Hol. Judas I an,—
Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol, What mean you, sir?
Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.
Biron. Well follow’d: Judas was hang’d on
an elder.
Fol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Biron. Because thou hast no face.
Hol. What is this ?
Boyet. A cittern head.
Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Biron, A death’s face in a ring.
Long. The face of an old Roman coin, searce
seen.
Boyet. The pummel of Cesar’s faulehion.
Dum. The carv’d-bone face on a flask.?
Biron, St. George’s half-cheek in a brooch.4
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead,
Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of'a tooth-drawer«
And now, forward; for we have put thee in coun-
tenance,
Hol, You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False; we have given thee faces.

(4) An ornamental buckle for fastenin

 

 

quering might :
l
i

A soldier’s powder-horn,

    

g hat.
bands, &e, "Scene 7, LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

1 ave Out~fae’d them all. /Pompey! Pompey the huge !
An thou wert a lion, we would do so, | Dum. Hector trembles.

Boyet. Ther fore, as he is, an ass, lethim go. | Biron. Pompey is mov’d
And so adieu, sweet Jude { nay, why dost thou stay 1A ’

Flol. But you
Biron.
j

:—More Ates,? more

yy Ates; stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. For the latter end of his name, | Dum. Hector will challenge him.
Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him -—| Biron.

Jud-as, away.
Hol. This is not fenerous, not gentle, not huthble.
Boyet. A licht for Monsieur

Ay, if he have no more man’s blood in’s

belly than will sup a flea,

“irm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee,

A Judas: it grows| Cost, I will not fight with a pole, like a northern

_ ark, he may stumble. man;* Pilslash: Pi do it by the sword :—] pray
Prin. Alas. p or Machabau » how hall: he been you, let me borrow my arms again,

baited ! Drom. Room for the incensed worthies,

Cost. I’ll do itin my shirt,
fe Dum. Most resoluti
my: ei. ‘e

ute Pompey!
Biron. ide thy head, Achilles: here comes! Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole
Hector fn arms. lower. Do you not se e, Pompey is uncasing for
Daum. Thoush my mocks come |} ‘|

» J) the combat? What mean you?
hOULU uy me, d

. foliy
Will now be merry, “<purauon,

Kine. Hector yi iS but a Tro}
Heyet. But is this Hector ?

you will lose your

}

nin respect ofthis,| «/rm. Gentlemen, and soldiers

» pardon me: [I
will not combat in my shirt.

Dwa, 1 think, Uector was not soclean-timberd.| Dum. You may ‘not deny it: Pompey hath
fone. His le« is too hj for Hettor. made the challenge,
Dum. More calf. cortst -irm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Boyctt. No- he best indued in the small. Kin What reason have you fort? :
Biron. ‘This cannot be Hector. <Irm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt ;
Dum. e's ! or apainter: for he makes fac . § £0 woolward* for penance. ; ae
Arm. The arminotent Ma of lances' the ai-;  oyet. True, and it was enjoin’d him in Rome
nirhin * ae for want of linen: since when, Pll be sworn, he
Gave Hector c¢ cif wore none, but a dish-clout of Jacquenetta’s ; and
Dum. A gilt nutmeg that ’a wears next his heart, for a favour,
Biron, A lemon. Enter Mercade.
lane. Stuck with cloves.
D Nd, clo Mer. God save you, madam!
irm. P Prin. Welcome, Mercade ;
7 a feut Mars, of lances the alm rhty, i But that thou interrupt’st our mcrriment.
Gare Hector a sift’ the heir of Ilion ; — ‘Mer. I am sorry, madam ; for the news I bring,
man $0 breath’d, that certain he would ‘f rht, yea\Is heavy in my tongue. ‘The king your father—
i tmorn fll nisht. out is pavilion, — Prin. Dead, for my life.
] that floir er. ; Mer. Even so; my tale is told.
Dum, — That mint. Biren. Worthic 3, A2way; the scene begins to
‘ LT t colirm] ine. |clou ?
in . Su Longavills, rein thy tonen : rin. For mine own part, I breathe free breath:
Long, | must rather give it tho ry In; foritrunsiI have seen the day of wrong through the little
against Heetor. ile of discretion, and I will right myself like a
Dum. Ay, and Hector’s a erevhoun l. Idier [Exeunt Worthies,
Arm. Th weet War-man is dead and rotten - Aine. Tow fares your majesty ? :
sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buri dz) #rin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
when he breath’d, he was a man—Bu?t [will for-/ Kine. Mad im, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
ward with my dev: Sweet r ty, [lo the Prin- Prin. Prep ire, I say.—I thank you, gracious
cess.] bestew on me the sense of henri: r, lords,
$ (Biron whispers Costard.|For all your fair end avours ; and entreat,
Prin. Speak, brave Heetor: we are much de-| Out of'a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
liehted. In your rich w isdom, to excuse, or hide,
rin. I do adore thy sweet grace’ slipper. The liberal* opposition of our spirits :
Bovet. Loves her by the foot. If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
Dam, 410 way cot by the yard. In tl

le converse of breath, your gentleness
irm. This Heclor far surmounted Han ibal,—| Was guilty of it.—Farewell, worthy lord!
Cost. The party is gone. fellow Hee yr, she j A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue :
gone; she is two months on her way i,XCUSC Me SO, coming sO short of thanks
: / mM What meanest thou ? lor tiny great sult so easily obtain d, :
1 ) st. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan,| King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the o causes to the purpose of his speed ;

hile ‘belly already: ’tis vours nd often, at his very loose, decides
clulu braes in her belly already: ’ti yours. AI en, ; ) eb,
] Dost thou inf 7 i ie mone poten-) That which long process could fet arbitrate :
oil yi, st Otl tia i ehiilUs = | iil : . ts
tates? thou shalt di And though the mourning brow of progeny
Cost. Then shal! Hector be whipp’d, for Jacque-' Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,
; ese 3 tick by him: and hane’d, for Pom-! The holy suit which fain it would convince ;
i InAt Is at i ; and nhaine’d, Io ( , :
ment a . l i him Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot,
pc nal 7 rah dy ul . ‘ ‘ ” ie i .
. Foc: Mo t ire Pompey ! let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
? S ‘ ; 0 cy : : : : ;
Re el Re wned Pompey! from what it purposed : since, to wail friends lost,
Oye 6onowne Uli} 5 n .
jel. KR _s a aaa ited s not by much so wholesome yrofitable
Diron, Greater than great, ercat, great, great,|Is not by mu < ;
1) J men (3) Aclown, (4) Clothed in wool, without linen,
( ance-men,

}
(2) Até was the goddess of discord, | (5) Free to excess,

5Sec ee ee

10

i on As to rejoice at friends but newly found,
s Piet Prin. 1 understand you not: my griefs are
/ pea double.
2 rig Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear
} | of grief ;—
! And by these badges understand the king.

For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play’d foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:

And what in us hath seem’d ridiculous,—

As love is full of unbefitting strains ;

All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain ;
Form’d by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll

To every varied object in his glance:

ine Which party-coated presence of loose love

th! Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,

ran Have misbecom’d our oaths and gravities,

i Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested! us to make: Therefore, ladies,

Our love being yours, the error that love makes
i Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
i By being once false for ever to be true

a SAR AMET La

 

 

Le ae eee

To those that make us both :—fair ladies, you :
eras a And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
be Al Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have receiv’d your letters full of love;
Ke Your favours the embassadors of love ;

And, in our maiden council, rated them

At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,

As bombast, and as lining to the time :

But more devout than this, in our respects,

Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.

 
 
  
 
  
    
 
 
    
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  

than jest.
Long. So did our looks.
Ros.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
| Prin, A time, methinks, too sh«
q To make a world-without-cnd bargain in:
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur’d much,
Full of dear guiltiness ; and, therefore, this,—
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world ;
There stay until the twelve cclestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning ;
If this austere insociable life
) Change not your offer made in heat of blood ;
ha If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love:
peed Then, at the expiration of the year,
Mae Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,
I will be thine ; and till that instant, shut
My woful self up in a mourning house ;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father’s death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part ;
Neither intitled in the other’s heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence even then my heart 1s in thy breast,

(3)

1
3

egard,

Tempted, (2) ¥
Clothing, (4) Yehement,

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

    
 
  
  
    
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  

 

Act V,

Biron. And what to mé, ty love? and what
to me?
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank ;

You are attaint with faults and perjury ;

Therefore, if you my fayour mean to get,

A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,

But seek the weary beds of people sick,

Dun. But what to me, my love? but what to m
Kath. A wife!—A beard, fair health, and ho-
nesty ;

With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife ?
Kath. Not so, my lord ;—a twelvemonth and a

day

Pil mark > words that smooth-fae’d wooers say:

Come when the king doth to my lady come,

Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum. Vl serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath, Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria ?

Mar. ; At the twelvemonth’s end,

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. Vl stay with patience; but the time is

long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me,

Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,

What humble suit attends thy answer there ;

Impose some service on me for thy love.

e!

 

Dum. Our letters, madam, show’d much more
> ,

We did not quote? them so.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birén,
Before I saw you: and the world’s large tongue
|Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ;
|Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ;
| Which you on all estates will execute,
| That lie within the merey of your wit:
|'T'o weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain ,
| And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
| (Wiathoul the which I am not to be won,)

You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day

| Visit the speechless sick, and still converse

\With groaning wretches ; and your task shall be,
| With all the fierce* endeavour of your wit,

yrt| To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

| Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of
deathi
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
| Ros. Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaf’d with the clamours of their own dear*
groans,
| Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
| And I will have you, and that fault withal ;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will
befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital,

Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my

<i leave. [To the King.

King. No, madam: we will bring you on your

way.

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play ;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies’ courtesy a
Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King. 7 sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a

ay,

3

 

(5) Immediate,Scene If.
And then ’twill end.

Biron. That’s too long for a play.
Enter Armado.
-irm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,—

Prin. Was not that Hector ?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

“irm.
leave: I ama votary; Ihave vowed to Jaquenetta
to hold the plough for her sweet love three years,
But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the
dialogue that the two learned men have compiled,
in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? It should
have followed in the end of our show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so,

irm. Holla! approach.—

Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and)

others.

This side is Hiems, winter ; this Ver, the spring ;

the one maintain’d by the owl, the other by the}

cuckoo. Ver, begin.

SONG.

Spring. W hen daisies pied, and violets blue,
“Ind lady-smocks all silver-white,
“nd cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
Do paint the meadows with deliczht,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo =
Cuckoo, cuckoo,—O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married car!

Il.

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
‘Ind merry larks are ploughmen’s
clocks,
When turtles trea
“ind maidens
smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
‘Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo ;

l, and rooks, and daws,

bleach thetr summer

 

LOVE’s LABOUR'S LOST.

I will kiss thy royal finger, and take|

  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
  
    
  
  
 
  
  
  
    
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
    
 
 
  
   
   
 

18]

Cuckoo, cuckoo,—O word of fear,
| Unpleasing to a married ear!

| III.

|Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,
| And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
| Ind Tom bears logs into the hall,

/Ind milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

To-who ;
Tu-whit, to-who, a Js

note,
While greasy Joan doth

eel! the pot.

|
BY <

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
Ind birds sit brooding in the snow

And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs? hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring onl,

T'o-who ;

Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While grewsy Joan doth keel the pot.

-Irm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the
songs of Apollo.—You, that way; we, this way.
[Exeunt,

(1) Cool. (2) Wild apples,

| In this play, which all the editors have concur.

ired to censure, and some have rejected as unwor-
thy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are
many passages mean, childish, and vulgar: and
‘some which ought not to have been exhibited, as
we are told they were, to a maiden queen. But

ithere are scattered through the whole many sparks

of genius; nor is there any play that has more
evident marks of the hand of Shakspeare.

JOHNSON,SSR ag

is ieee toe:

 

MERCHANT

OF VENICE.

——— ee ee

 

 

 

 

PERSONS REP

Duke of Venice.
Prince of Morocco, 2
Prince of .4rragon,
Antonio, the merchant of Venice.
Bassanio, his friend.

Salanio,
Salarino,
Gryatiano,
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica.

Shylock, « Jew.

Tubal, a Jew, his friend.

Launcelc ft Gobbo, a clown, servant to Shylock.

Old Gobbo , father to Launcelol.

suitors to Porlia,

friends to. Antonio and Bassanio.

 

L—Venice. street. Entcr Antonio,
Salarino, aad $ Salanio.

SCENE

Antonio.

In sooth, I know not why Iam so sad ;

It wearics me; you say, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff ’tis made of . whercof it is born,
I am to learn ;

And such a wi ant-wit sadaess makes of me,
That I have much ado ie know myself,

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ;
There, where your argo: ies! with portly sail,—
Like signiors s and rich burghers of the flood,

Or, as it were the pageants of the sea,—

Do overpecr the petty traflickers,

That curt’sy to them, do them reverence,

As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I sch venture forth,

The better part of my afleetions would

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still

Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind ;

Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads ;

And every object, that might make me fear

Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,

Would make me sad.

Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, |
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.

I should not see the sandy hour-¢lass run,
But L should think of shallows and of flats ;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock’ d in sand,
Vailing? her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of di ingerous rocks ?
Which touching but my ge ‘ntle vesscl’s side,
Would seatter all her sp:ces on the stream ;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,

And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought

To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,

(1) Ships of large burthen, (2) Lowering.

RESENTED.

I\Salerio, amessenger from Vo enice.
Leonardo, servant to ‘Bassanio.

Palthazur. ?
Ba . » ¢ servants to Portia.
Stepnano, §

Portia, avich heiress.
‘Ne rissa , her wailing-) naid.
' Jessic a, * daue ‘hier to Shy! ock.

Magnifi *”)

« tal

of Venice, officers of the court of Jus-
tice, all r, servants, and other attendants.

Scene, partly at Venice, ane ! narlly at Belmont, the
seat of Porlia, on the continent.

|Thatsecha thing, bechane’d, would make me sad?
| tell not me; I know, Antonto
to think upon his merchandise.
Int. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures arc not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whale estate
|Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad,

Satan. Why then you are in love,

Ant. Fic, fic!
Salan. Not in love neither? Then let’s say, you
| are sad, ;
| Bee ause you are not merry: «and ’twere as easy
\For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed

Janus,
| Nature hath feam’d stranee fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
| And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper ; ;
|And other of such vinegar aspéct,
|'That theyll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.

> | Salen. [ere comes Bassanio, your most noble
kinsman,

\Gratiane, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;

| We leave you now with better company.

Salar. T would have staid till I had made you
| mcr Ty. :
jC worthier (ri nd, had not prevented me.

Le Int. Your worth is very dear in my regard,
IT take it, your own business ¢ alls on you,
And vou embrace the oceasion to depart.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good sirniors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when? i
You crow exceeding strange: Must it be so?

Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on

yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio.

Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found

Antonio,
We two willleave you: but, at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where me must meet,

Bass. I will not fail youINN
( it be
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34
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as

AN YOU LIA@ 11.
tcl TV ~.—~—Scene .ET TSE
ony prepaScene II. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 183
y ee. You look not w ell, signior Antonio : | Within the eye of honour, be assur’d,
Ou have too much respect upon the w rid: IMy “S Ly pe y ex
iey lose it. that do) pec ' ) orld : My purse, my person, my extremest means,
; » that do buy it with much care. Lie all unlock’d to your occasions,
Believe me, you

are marvellously chane’d, Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one

int. | hold the world but as the world, Gra- shaft,
A stare aaa Se eee ) I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
And Dine cyerery man must play a part, The self-same way, with more advised watch,
Ana mine &@ sad one, ; l'o find the other forth; and by advent’ring both,
wu cs Let me play the fool : i oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,

ith mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; Because what follows is pure innocence,
And let my liver rather heat w ith wine, [ owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
Phan my heart cool with mortifvin ¥ groans, That which I owe is lost: but if you please
\\ hy should a man, whose blood is warm within, !To shoot another arrow that self way
Sit lixe his grandsire cut in alabe ster ? Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
Slee p when he wakes ? and creep into t! e Jaundice) As | will watch the aim, or to find both,
By be ng peevish I tell thee what, Antonio.— |O; bring your latter hazard back again,
1 to ihee, and i is my lc ve that speaks ;— And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
an re are rt of men, whose visages int. You know me well; and herein spend but
4/0 cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; time,
And do a wilful stillness! entertain, To wind about my love with circumstance ;
With purpose to be dress’d in an pinion And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conce} . In making question of my uttermost,
As who should say, | am sir Oracle. | Than if you had made waste of all I have:
«Jnd, when I ope my! ps, let no dog bark! Then do but say to me what I should do,
O, my Antonio, I do know of these, That in your knowledge may by me be done,
That therefore only are reputed wise And I am prest? unto it: therefore, speak.
For ing } ing; y lam sure, Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,

{they should speak, would almost damn those: ars,|And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Which, hearing them, wou'd call their broth rs,| Of wondrous virtues: sometimes? from her eyes
fools, { did receive fair speechless messages:

ll tell thee more of t] ther ti

21 r time: ler name is Portia; nothing undervalued
‘o Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia.
or is the wide world iznorant of her worth ;

et eet et
}
Nye

me, good Li 0 :—Fare ye well, a while; or the four winds blow in from every coast
llend my ex tation after dinner. Renowned suitors: and he r sunny locks
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner- Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ;
time : Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos’ strand,
I must be one of these same dumb wise men. And many Jasons come in quest of her.
For Gratiano 1 | O my Antonio, had I but the means
Gra. Well, | mpany but two years) To hold a rival place with one of them,

more, [ have a mind presages me such thrift,

halt not Ww sound of thine own That I should questionless be fortunate.

“Int. Thou know’st, that all my fortunes are at
sea :

Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only com-!| Nor have I money, nor commodity

 

men lo raise a present sum: therefore go forth,
I neal’s t ue dried, and a maid not vendible.;Try what my credit can in Venice do;
| /xeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. |That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost,

Int. Is that any t ) To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.

Bass. Gra Os iniinite deal of nothing, Go, presently inquire, and so will T,
more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are| Where money is; and I no question make :
as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff:| To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt,
you shal < ee aig ame r%. an _ SCENE II.—Belmont. A room in Portia’s
) "4 : Well tell - a : a wan si Tite 3 i house. Enter Portia and Nerissa.
To whom you re . secret pilgrime re, Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is
That you to-day promis’d to tell me of? aweary of this great world.

Bass. ’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, Ver. You would be, sweet madam, if your mise-
How much I have disabled mine estate, ries were in the same abundance as your good for-
By something showing a more sweiling port tunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as
Than my faint means would grant continuance: ick, thet surfeit with too much, as they that starve
Nor do I now make meen to be abride’d with nothing : It is no mean happiness therefore, to
From such a noble rate; but my chief care be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by
Is to come (airy off from the great debts, white hairs, but competency lives longer.
Wherein my time, somethinz too prodiral. ' Por, Good sentences, and well pronounced.

lath lef <a: To vou, Antoni ' Mer. They would be better, if well followed.
ath eat wes 7 . ~ : i os a d oe | Ve : Por. 1f to do were as easy as to know what were
Se aia hve a Sec cciieabiis be good to do, chapels had been churches, ae
To unburthen all my plots and purposes, men’s cottages, princes’ palaces, [tis a goot yes
Liow to get clear of all the debts I owe. that follows his own ne “ ul ae

nt. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ;|twenty what — good to be so a he tiie
And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, |the twenty to fo low mine own teaching.

(1) Obstinate silence. (2) Ready, | (3) Formerly.it!
Ria
Wee)
IY
f
i
7

 

 
 
  
 
   

184 MERCHANT

may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper|
Jeaps over a cold decree: such a hare is madness}
the youth, to skip o’er the meshes of good counsel
the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion
to choose me a husband :—O me, the word choose!
I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse}
whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter
curb’d by the will of a dead father :—Is it not hard,
Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none ¢

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy
men, at their death, have good inspirations ; there-
fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three
chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who
chooses his meaning, chooses you, ) will, no doubt,
never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you
shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in
your affection towards any of these princely suitors
that are already come !

Por. 1 pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou
namest them, I will describe them ; and, according
to my description, level at my affection.

er. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.

Por. Ay, that’s a colt,’ indeed, for he doth no-
thing but talk of his horse : and he mak sit a great
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my lady, his
mother, played false with a smith.

Ner. Then is there the county? Palatine

Por. He does nothing but frown; as W
say, Anif you will not have me, choose : he hea
merry tales, and smiles not: I fear, he y
the weeping philosopher when he grows old ing
so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth, 1 had
rather be married to a death’s head with a bone in
his mouth, than to either of the i defend 3
from these two!

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon-
sieur Le Bon?

Por. God made him, and therefor«
for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to bea
mocker: But, he! why, he hath a horse better than
the Neapolitan’s; a better bad habit of frowning
than the count Palatine: he is every man in no
man: if a throstle sing, he falls straight a caper-
sng ; he will fence with his own shadow: if I should
marry him, I should marry twenty husd:
he would despise me, I would forgive hin
he love me to madness, I shall never requite hun.

}

iet him pass

 
  
 

co 00 §

Ner. What say you then to Falconbridge, the}

1

young baron of England ?

Por. You know, I say nothing to him: for he un-
derstands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin,
French, nor Italian; and you will come into th
court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth|

in the English. He is a proper man’s pictur
But, alas! who can converse with a dumb show

How oddly he is suited! I think !
T

doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bon-

net in Germany, and his behaviour every where.

5 *

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his

neighbour ?

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ;
for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English-
man, and swore he would pay him again, when he
was able: I think the Frenchman became his

surety, and sealed under for another.

4)

Ner. How like you the young German, the duke

of Saxony’s nephew ?

he boucvht his

  
 
 
   
  
  
    
 
  
   
  
  
    
   
    
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   

Ok VENICE, ict Ie

a beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, 1 hope, I
shall make shift to go without him.

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose
the right casket, you should refuse to perform your
father’s will, if you should refuse to accept him.

Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray
thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the con-
trary casket: for, if the devil be within, and that
temptation without, I know he will choose it. I
will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to
a spunge.

Ner, You need not fear, lady, the having any
of these lords: they have acquazated me with their
determinations: which is, indeed, to return to their
home, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless
you may be won by some other sort than your fa-
ther’s imposition, depending on the caskets.

Por. Uf I live to be as old as Sybilla, I will die
is chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the
manner of my father’s will: Iam glad this parcel
of wooers are so reasonable ; for there 1s not one
amone them but I dote on his very absence, and I
Ly God grant them a fair departure.

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your fa-

.
t

her’s time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier,
hat came hither in company of the Marquis ol
Vi ierral

Pe. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so
was he called

iS ne Cuca,

NN True, madam; he, of all the men that

ever ray foolish eyes looked upon, was the best
ervine a fair lady.
Por. { remember him well; and I remember
[ 1

him worthy of thy } raise.—How now ! what news?

Inter a Servant.
wwers seek for you, madam,
. take their leave: and there Is a forerunner come
from a fifth, the prince Ol Morocco; who brings
word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night.
Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so
rood heart as Lean bid the other four farewell, I
hould be glad of his approach: if he have f
1e
c nit ye : } aint 9 cl ihe *OTY le Ti i |
ndition® of a saint, and the complexion of a devil,
oe. oe
. had rather he should shrive me than wive me.

The fou tra

Come, Nerissa.—Sirrah, go before.—Whiles we
hut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks a
aS P< :

tne Goor. [Exeunt,

SCENE III.—Venice. 4 public place. Enter
Bassanio and Shylock.

Shy. Three thousand ducats,—well.

Rass. Av, sir. for three months.

Shay. For three months,—well.

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio
h {| be b yund. :

Shy. Antonio shall become bound,—well,

Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure

’ Shall IT know your answer ?

Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months
and Antonio bound. ’

Rass. Your answer to that.

Shy, Antonio is a good man.

| Have you heard any imputation to the
contrary ?
Sha. Ho, no, no, no, no :—my meaning, in say
ig he is a go 1d man, is to have you understand
me, that he is sufficient: yet his means are in sup-

| P|

Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is so-|position: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis
=?

}

ber; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he isjanother to the Indies: | understand moreover upop
drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than ajthe Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for
man ; and when he is worst, he is little better than} England,——and other ventures he hath, squans

(1) A heady, gay youngster. (2) Count.

.(3) Temper, qualities,Scene iif. MERCHANT OF} ENICE.

der’d abroad: But ships are but bc oards, sailors but

(nd in the doing of the deed of kind,
men: there be land-r: its, and w: iter-rats, W

ater-| He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ;

thieves, and land-thieve $: I mean, pirates ; and Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time
then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks «| ll party-colour’d lambs, and those were Jacob's,
The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient crises This was a way to thrive, and ne was blest ;
thousand ducats ;—I think I m: iy take his bond. \nd thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.

Bass. Be assured you may. int. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob sery’d

Shy. I will be assured I may - and, that I may for;
be assured, I will bethink me: May I speak with! A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
Antonio ? Dut sway’d and fashion’d, by the hand of heaven.

Bass. If it please you to dine with us. Was this ins writ ye to make interest good ?

Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habita-/Or is your cold and silver, ewes and rams ?

tion which you ir prophet, the Nazarite, conjured Shy. I cannot tell:

i make it breed as fast :—

the devil into: I will buy with you, scll with you,| Bu te me, signior.
talk with you, walk with you, and so following.) .4nt. Mark you his, Bassanio,
but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor/The devil can cite seripture for his purpose.
pray with you. What news on the Rialto ?—Who| An evil soul, producing holy witne SS,
is he comes here ? Is like a vilistecwitiy ag ttte ae stk .
: \ odly apple rotten at the hea
Enter Anti ono. i = . f — ar A ; rt s 3 ;
UV, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
Bass. This is signior Antonio. oy. Three thousand ducats,—’tis a good round
Shy. L iside.} How like a fawning publican he sum
loc bet" Three months from twe lve, then let me see the rate.
I hate him, for he is a Christian: int. Well, Shy] ck, : shall we be beholden to you?
But more, for that, in low simpli: ity, Say. Sigmor Antonio, many a time and oft,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down [In the Ri Ito yc th ve rat ipo
The rate of usance here with us in Veni : \bout my monies. an | my usances:*
If I can catch him once upon the hip, stu have I borne it with a atient shrug ;
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. lor s ferance 1s the badge of all our tribe:
He hates our sacred nati a: 1 he rails, You call me—misbeli ver, Ct it-throat dog,
Even there where merchants most do conerecat , |And spit upon my Jewish « ering
On me, my 4 jap i my well-won thrift, A 1 iio use Ot that which Is mine own.
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe. ‘Veil then, it now appears, you eed my help:
If I forytive him! jo to then ; you come to me, and you say,
Bass. 5! loc] ‘ ado. 1 ne F bSfy = we 4 l ij Lve be ices 5 - You say sO;
Shy. Iam debating of my present store : You, that did void your um upon my beard,
And, by the near guess of my memory, ind { me, as you purn a stranger cur
, . ; ' ye \ ‘ * momes * 1
I cannot instantly raise up : ure \; monies is yom suit,
Of full three thousand ducats: What of that? A. uld I say to you? Should I not say,
' ; ry ; ; : i r< »/ f
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my bialh possible,
? Psat } 1] a . } ; . i uy a ’ ti d ducats ? or,
Will furnish m LB sol mow many n s ': ae : ‘ key,
; , ‘ . | Srna « ~ . ney ‘ ' tiny Ont } s
Do you desire /—Rest you feir, good s : I nab ‘man’s ke
, | To Antonio. |\\ the: whi ing humbleness,
z 4) } _ , ry “¥ vert . -
Your worship was thy In oO ie
rT ; ' lesan iy spit on me on Wednesday last ;
t | ik eit I nei riend nor borrow i 103 of on Wedne ' :
; Vy) oc i i i ; ; , *
stat Shy nor bs iving of excess, ha day; anol ther time
Yet t Supt r thé ripe ¥ ints' of my friend I a —<(doz; and for these courtesies
Cl, O° ply SH ape Wail - ey ‘Se "y vr. , s} oki: seeise ae
I'll break a custom :—Is he yet possessed,? ae sa Tile to eal tae a aan
How much you would ? | ed7tt. 2 GIN aS like to Call thee so again,
' ‘ ew. three thoneand dima ) spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
Shy Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. |] a
; ew 6 ; If thou wilt lend thi money, lend it not
“int. And for three months. If thou wilt lend thi

Shy. 1 had forgot,—three months, you told me so./As to thy friends (for when di id friends ship take
Well then, your bond; and, let me see,——But/|A breed for barren met | of his f friend ?

?

] you But lend it rather to thine enemy
war 0) : E ; . ‘oY } | 4] yt i’ b tt fi:
" ither lend, nor borrow 1¢ e break, thou may’st with better face
Methought, you said; you neither Iend, nor borrow, W! rt D = as 4 0
milena vtec \Exact the penalty. _
oa, Sevantnge. | never use it | Shy Why, look you, how you storm!
do a : maw ihe eae —" > »
che Wi Jacob *d his uncle Laban’s sheep, |I would be friends with you, and ‘have your love,
acob graz’d his uncle Lavan’s shecp, vould
re) is r holy Al m wa Forget the shames that you have stain’d me with,
. . m our holy branan vas ae
his Ja aa no " ught in his behalf) Supply your present wants, and take no doit
[ S y ner rougiit ink is t il . ‘ 1} : : i
cn Gen eae rhe v the third Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me;
The third POSSESSOT ; ay, ne was tne Lord.

' , ee yl ce dee ae
Int. And what of him? did he take interest ’ Phi a rob kindness
Shy. No, not take interest; not,as you wouldsay, «/nt. This wei

i k what Jacob did Shy This kindness will I show:
irec r ‘rest: ark WHal Ji 0 id, OY.
oe aia hin If were compro! is’d Go with me to a notary 'y seal me there
i 2 ilaes = ich were treak’d, and Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport,
That « s ef gs uc! streak’d, and Your s smerr)
Le ied aay If you repay me not on such a day,
aa j kk suc | such sum, or sums, as are
Should fall as Jacob’s hire; the ewes, being rank, In suc h Aen aes oa aie hak
In the end of autumn turned to the rams : * xpress’ in | nae op ' cet at peane
» work of generation was se nominated for ar i
; rhen the work of generati , |
em these woolly breeders in the act, Of your fair flesh, to i : vied = akan
eat , ' n what par rleaset ‘
The skilful shepherd peel’d me certain wands, In what part of your body plez

’ (2) Informe ture. 4) Interest
(1) Wants which admit no longer delay, | (2) Informed. (3) N ere (4) In ‘ee

186 MERCHANT OF VENICE. Act 11.

 

Int, Content, in faith: Dll seal to such a bond,!That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,—

And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.

I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look,

Bass. You shall not seal to sucha bond for me, er ee the heart most daring on the earth,

Dll rather dwell! in my necessity.
Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forte

This bond expires, I do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
Shy. O father Abraham, what the

ype

are ;
Whose own hard dk aling rs teaches - ‘m suspect
[me this; |Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
(

The thoughts of others! Pray you, t 5
If he should break his day, what Pou

i ae

the 4

Within these two months, that’s a mi ith before |
e

I;

Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she- bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,

win thee, lady: th alas the while!

play at dice

es crreater throw

Hercule s, and Licha
1) 1ich is the better ma

Christians! May turn by fortune Frond | he weaker hand:

ISo is Alcides beaten by his page ;
And so may ‘ blind fortune le an me,

11 gain |} And die with grieving.
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? | Por. You must take your chance;
A pound of man’s flesh, taken from a 1 man, And a r not att mpt to choose at all,
Is not so estimable, protitable neithe: Or swear, before you choose,—if you choose wrong,

As flesh of muttons, b ‘els, or gonts. Ts LY’

To buy his favour, I extend this fric ndship :

If he will take it, so; if not, adicu;

And, for my love, I pray you, wrong me not.
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this be

Siy. Then meet me fort hivith at the notary’

Give ties direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats straight ;
Sce to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave - and presently
I will be with you.

Ant. Hic thee, gentle Je

This Hebrew wi!! turn Christian; he crows

Bass. 1 hike not fair terms, and a vijlain

Ant. Come on: in this there can be n

may,

My ships

SCENE I.—Belmont.

Flourish of. cornets. Enter the Prince ¢ f

rocco, and his train; Poruia, Nerissa,
of her attendants.

Mor. Mislike me not for my comp'exion,
The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near b
Bring me the fairest creature northward bor
Where Pheebus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles
And let us make incision? for your love,

To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine

I tell thee, lady, this.aspéct of mine

Hath fear'a® the valiant: by my love, I swe:

The best -regarde d virgins of our clime
Have lov’ dit too: I would not ch inge
Except to steal your thoughts, my & ithe
Por. In terms of choice I am not vite ly ie
By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes:
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the ritht of voluntary choosing.
But, if my father had not se td “dl me,

And il lg Day me by his wit, to yield mvself

come home a month before the day.

i Never to all to lady afterward
‘In way cf marriage; therefore, be advis’d.4
Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my

chance.
nd. | Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner
- |Your hazard shall be made.
Mor. Good fortune then!
[| Cornets.
''T’o make me bless’d’st, or cursed’st among men.
[Exeunt.
FET i. mnie ws ee take ; ’
: SCENE II.—Venice. 4 street. Enter Launce-
hel eis’ lot Gobbo.
mind, Leun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to
) dis- run from this Jew, my master: The fiend is at mine
1; and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Laun-
celol G obbo, oood Launcel ‘ oT good Gcbbo, or
eunt.|good Launeclot Gobbo, use your legs, take the

tert, run moau: My conscience (8a) s.—no; take

honest Gobbo ;

. as aforesaid, honest ae Gobbo, do not

is: scorn running wilh thy heels: Well, the e most

a cou ul fiend bid me pack ; via! Lys the
™M has {he nd ; mieay says the fi i r the lies ; rouse
om tp te brave mind, says he eng and run. Well,

“my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart,

says very wisely to me,—my iy mest friend Launce-

lot, l ar cy hovied? sade aimeath rather an ho-

t woman’s son:—for, indeed, my father did
something smack, something grow to, he had a
} ; rad 4 . .
Kind of taste ;—well, my conscience says, Launce-

: lot, budee not; budge, says the fiend; budge not,
ivs my conseience: Conscience, say I, you coun-
el well: fiend, say I, vou counsel well: to be

led | conscience, [ should stay with the Jew

r, ny master, who (God bless the mark!) is a kind
f devil: and, to run away from the Jew, I should

be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence,

is the devil himself: Certainly, the Jew is the very
devil incarnation: and, In my conscience, my con-
‘cis but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to

counsel me to stay with the Jew: The fiend gives
the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my
els are at your commandment, ] will run.

Ce She ee AS nae? oa
Enter old Govbo, 2 ha basket.

His wife, wh: ») Wins me by that means [| told you ?

Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair, Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you;

As any comer I hive look’d on yet, which is the way to master Jew’s ? a ;

For my affection, Laun. [.@side.] O heavens, this is my true be-
Mor. Even for that I thank you; |qottcn father! th be ~~ more than sand-blind

Therefore, I pray you, le ad me to the caskets, high-eravel blind, knows me not:—I will try con-

To try my fortune. By this se imitar,- —
That slew the So; phy, and a Persian prince,

(1) Abide.

(2) Allusion to the eastern custom for lovers to|
testify their passion by cutting themselves in their (S
(§

mistyesses’ sight.

iclusions® with ih

1

| Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you,
which is the way to maar Jew’s? ce

Laun. Turn up on your right hand, at the next

3) T sents (4) Not precipitate,

5) Experiments,Scene II, MERCI

turning, but, at the next turning of all, on

NANT OF VEN

  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
     
   
    
   
    
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
    
  
 
   
   
 
  
 
 
  
    
  
     
  
 
  
      
   
    
 
   
    
  
  
  
 
  
   
    
   
  
    
     
   
    
  
  
    
   

NICE. 187

 

MEY Whaley. at the see ae ke a pour ate Bassanio, mm Leonardo, and other fol
hi und, but tu: ‘n down indireetly to the Jew’s he tthe ae
Gob. By God’s sontie s, twill be a hard way tol, Bass. You may do so ;—but let it be so hasted,
hit. Can you tell me whether one Laune lot. ihay{tuat supper be ready at the farthest by five of the
dwells with him, dwell with lin br a? pe"|clock : See these letters deliver'd ; put the liveries
aun, Talk you of young m: iste r Launcelot?—|.. 7" king; and desire Gratiano to CORE BAAw, 0
Mark me now ; faside. | now wiil I raise the wa- ay one ee wai [Exit a servant,
ters—Talk you of 7 young master Paine lot - . A 7 him, father, ;
Gob. No maste r, sir, but a poor man’s son: hj ie oe oe wate la
Cather, though 1 snc “pe oh apes Biot. Bass Gramercy; Would’: st thou aught with me?
man, and. God be thanked, well to lice Goo, Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,
Laun. Well, let his-father be what ge eee La im, Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's
talk of young master Launcelot. Pea ann: Se would, st ras my father shall s Sclyyrrs
Geb. Your worshin’s {rj Te ged Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one ,
La But I pray you erro. old ite | Ih : ld say, to serve—
acech v: Talk vou of youns toaster to 7, 7 Lan Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve
Gob. or ee lot, an't pl your thasterchin:|e Jew and I have a desire, as my father shall
Laun, Ergo, fae Launcelot talk not 0! C Pius nastoar s
master Launcelot, father ; for the youne genilomey rob. His master and he (s aving your worship’s
lend rding + oa ise anh''al whi i or aka dd { yi be ihe be brat cater-cousins
SVE T OM Millers: thive and cach Lee de me a 1 brie the very truth is, that the
learning,) is, indeed. deceased ; as Gon wail a avin; { ne me wrong, doth cause me, as my
thy th plain Weems. Git 4 ea J lather, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto
oh iy T ehhee the held wan tt, ieee :
‘i eee aoe’ a nits igs y Was Une Vi Gob. I havi dish of doves, that I would be-
Laun. Do I look like a cudgel. or a hoyelenoct |* r ge ore , and my suit Is, ——
a dial ora a pli, ag Bes Bid Laun. In y brief the suit is Impertinent to
ie Math fan ae YL ; ‘self, your worship shall know by this honest
ites WET ae son tan, : tim and, lh I say it, though old man,
rod reat hie il 7 | . , ey any
"7 ji : Do ‘ a Se pet ui father ? b 01 space for bot] 1;-—What would you?
i pe se £40, oOerve OU, sir.
fa ON ‘nde 4. if if nd-blind, * “ f . { o ° This Is the " ry fe cl bi f the matte ry sir.
malas Bik of alo eh. at B 4 no thee-well, thou "hae obtained thy
hat 7 ' hie n chil Vall 1] —— —
I a de ar Sala ed Cee 'y 2 u lox I, thy m are r, spoke with me this day,
truth will come to light: murder cannot by Hew a th preferr’d hee, if it be preferment,
& man’s son may: but, in the ¢ nad, i th Hi out — An ~—s gees. Puen - parent:
fk. Meee nk aa? Can c., ; | vey | ene follower of so poor a ge ntle ‘man,
See areay fot ] , Laun. The ol id proverb is very well parted be-
Hae Pray’ ven. Nias, > ily, p ween my mas er Shylock and you, sir; you have
about it, but give me your b! iw: lam L P “— ae =a ana) - hath enough. :
ee a es _ 4 Bb Uh yu speak’st it well: Go, father, with
Hell d thet shall b . —— th rg are
cnn _— Sha as “ lake Jeave of tl 1y old ma: ster, and i inquire
, s 7s Soe won JOU r cfr D My lodging out :—Give him a livery
aun, “now not what! i | !
vie: J am L i1uncelot, the Jew mat I Mm) \J C ruard } ] , rh nis follewara.
ue ore guarded? than his fellows’: See it done.
nee gery, your wile, is my : 2 | Laun, Pathe r, in:—I cannot get a service, no ;—
‘ Gob -J i. i ne ae a: a =: : a. o [ have ne’er a tongue in my head.—Well; [look-
mod be Launcefot, thou art mine o Cae. eine On wa paon.| if any man in Italy have a fairer
bloo ts Lord ee d might h as WHAt 2 “jtable,? which doth offer to swear upon a book,—
hast thou got! thou h ws go more natr on U na] t shall have ape fortune ; Go to, here’s a simple
than Dobbin my thill-horse' has on hi han, » of Tif ! here’s a small trifle of wives: Alas,
Lam. ft nena seem the ny mt D On $ tal an. 1 ives is nothing cleven widows , and nine
grows backw ird; Tam sure e had more Nur ON) maid is a simple coming-in for one man : and
his tail, than I have on my face, when Ia t Saw Dim. han, to ’scape drowning thrice ; and to be in peril
Gob, T.ord, how art thou chane’d! How dost] of my life with the edge of a fe ather-bed : ;—here
thou and thy master agree? I have broueht him a are sin (ss scape s! W ell, if fortune be a woman,
present ; How "eree you nov [ od Ww ench for this gear. —F ather, come ;
Laun. Well, well; but, for my own part, as I r i ; at my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of
have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest an ave [Exeunt Laun. and old Gob.
till I have run some ground: my master ; a very Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this;
Jew: Give him a present! ¢ him a halter: | These bilivirl being bought, and orderly bestow’d,
am famish’d in his service; you may tell every Return in haste, for I do feast to-night
finger I have with my ribs, Father, [am clad you My

one maste
liveries:
as God has ar
man:
if I serve the J

give me your present to
Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare
[ serve not him, I will run as far
ground.—O rare fortune! here comes the
to him, father; for I am a Jew,
any longer.

are come;
new

ey
fen
|
|

(1) Shaft-horse (2) Ornamented,

 

best-estecm’d acquaintance ; hie thee, go.

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein,
Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where is your master ?

Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks,

_Exit Leonardo,

(3) The palm of the hand extended,er kes

 

   
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
    
 
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
   

 

188 MERCHANT OF VENICE. Act Il,
Gra, Signior Bassanio,—— Salan. ’Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly or
Bass. Gratiano ! | der’d ;

Gra. I have a suit to you. And better, in my mind, not undertook.
Bass. You have obtain’d it. | Lor, ’Tis now but four o’clock; we have two
Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with| hours

you to Belmont. (To furnish us :—
Ww st ;—B ar thee, |
: meee ee "4 Enter Launcelot, with a letter.

Gratiano ;
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ;— |F riend Launcelot, what’s the news s?
Parts, that become thee happily enouch, Laun. An it shall please you to break up this,
And insuch eyes as ours appear not fi Lults ; it shall seem to signify.

But where thou art not known, why, there they show | Lor. 1 know the hand: in faith, ’tis a fair hand ;
Something too liberal ; 1—pray thee, take pain 'And whiter than the paper it writ on,
To allay with some cold re of modesty Is the fair hand that writ.

Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild beha-| Gra. Love-news, in faith.
viour, Laun. By your leave, sir.

Lor. Whither goest thou?

Laun. A a sir, to bid my old master the Jew
sanio, hear me:|to sup t -night wit h my new master the Christian.
Lor. Hold * re, take this :—tell gentle Jessica,

I will not fail her ;—speak it privately ; go.—
[Exit Launec lot.

{ be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Gra. Signior Ba
If I do not put on a sober habit,
‘Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,

Ww eer prayer-books in my pocket, look d emurely ;| Gentlemen,

Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eves | Will you prepare you for this masque to-nig ht ?

Thus with ny hat, and sigh, and say, amen; { am provided of a torch-bearer.

Use all the observance of civility Salar. Ay, marry, V’ll be gone about it straight.

Like one well studied in a sad os tent? Salan. And so will I.

To please his grandam, never trust me more¢ Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano,
Bass. Well, we shi ul see your bearing. At Gratiano’s lodging some hour hence.

Gra. Nay, but I ba r to-night; you shall not Salar. oT is good we do so.
rage me ie reunt Salar. and Salan.
By what we do to-night. Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Bass. No, that were pity ; Lor. I must needs tell thee all: She hath directed,
J would entreat you rather to put on “ “ |How I shall take her from. her father’s house ;
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends What gold, and jewels, she is furnish’d with ;

That purpose merriment: But fare you well, What page’s suit she hat thi in readiness.
I have some business. If e’er the Jew, her father, come to heaven,

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest ; It will be for his gentle daughter’s sake:
But we will visit you at supper-time [Exeunt. \nd never dare misfortune cross her foot,

Unless she do it under this excuse,—
SCENE III.—The same. A room in Shylock’: Thal nih ts fags’ to 4 teeiedl Tote,
house. Enter Jessica and Launcelot. Come, co with me; peruse this as thou goest:

Jes. Tam sorry thou w ilt leave m) father : i: Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, ieee et
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness ; CENE ¥.—1 * oe ne. Before Shylock’s house.
But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee. Enter Shylock and Launcelot.
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou sce Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy
Lorenzo, who } is thy new master’s guest: judge,

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:

And so farewell; I brould not have my father What, Jessica !—thou shalt not pormiandise;

See me talk with thee. ' 1s thou hast done with me ;—What, Jessica !—
Laun. Adicu !—tears exhibit my tongue.—Most And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ;—

beautiful Pagan,—most sweet Jew! Ifa Christian Why, Jessica, I say!

do not play the knave, and get thee, am mucn{ /,aw. Vhy, Jessica!

deceived: But, adicu! these foolish dropsdosome-| Shy. WS ho bids thee call? Ido not bid thee call.

Give him this letter ; do it secr tly,

what drown my manly spirit, adieu! [Evit.| aun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I
Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot.— could do nothing without bidding.
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, . ae
To be asham’d to be my father’s child Enter Jessica.
But thouch I am a daughter to his blood, Jes. Call you? What is your will?
0 Shy. I am bid* forth to supper, Jessica ;

Tam not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
| this strife ; There are my keys :—But wherefore should I go ;

i

If thou keep promise, I shall enc
Become a Christian, and thy loving wile. { Exit, | 1 am not bid for love; they flatter me:
VEY RS : y
SCENE IV.—The same. A street. Enter Gra- Phe prodigal Christian. —Jesiet, my cirl,
tiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanto. 'T.ook to mv house:—I am right loath to go,
Lor, Nay, we will slink away in supper-time; | There is some ill a brewing towards my rest,
Disguise us at my lodging, and return For I did dream of money-bags to-night.
All in an hour. | aun. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master
Gra. We have not made good preparation. ‘doth expect your reproi ich. es :
Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-| Shy. So do I his.
bearers. | Laun. And they have conspired together,—I will
not say, you shall see a masque; but if you do,

‘ Gross, licentious.
(4) Inivited.

(2) Show of staid and serious demeanour, (3) Carriage, deportment.Scene VI. MERCH
then it was not for nothing that my nose fel]
ing on Black-Monday last, at
morning, falling out that year on
was four year in the afternoon.
Shy. What! are there m: isques ? He
Jf ssic as
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the d
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck’d file,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your he ad i into the pubis stro
To gaze on Christian aoe With varnish’d fae
But stop my house’ , | mean my
Let not the sound of sh low 1
My sober house.— Jacc

a bleed-
SiX 0 clock i the
Ash-Wednesday

1¥
aa

‘you me,

rum,

eat
( .

atk Cuscments :
‘Opper y enter
stafl, I swear

‘
—By Ss

,
I have no mind of fe satiate fi rth to-night :
sut I will go.—Go you before me, si rah ;
Say, I will come.
Un, I will go before, sir.—
Mistress, look out at windiest for all this:
There will come a Christian by

Will be worth a Jewess’ eye. [ Exit Ls au

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar’s off prin: : }
Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress: n thin
else.
Shy. The patch is kind enoug - but a hug e feed ’
Snail-slow in profit, and he i ps by day
More than the wild cat; drones hive not with m
Therefore I part with him; and _ Zig him
To one that I would have him he i » toy :
His borrow’d purse.—W* ll, Je ‘a, fo in
Perhaps, I will return immediat ly :
Do, as I bid you,
Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find ;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. | Exit
Jes. Farewell: and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [| Exit

SCENE VI.—The same. Enter Gratiano an
Salarino, masked.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lo
Desir’d us to make stand.

Salar. His hour js al: {

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hor :
Por lovers ever run bet the cloc!

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus’ ys fly
To seal love’s bonds new made, than wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited !

Gra. That ever holds: W! eth { 1 a feast
With that keen appetite that a its down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fir
That he did pace them first? All thi that a
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy’d
How like a younke rF. UF @ re di il,

The searfed' bark puts from her native ba

Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind

How like the prodigal doth she return,

With over-weather’d ribs, and ragged sails

Lean, rent, aol beggar’d by the strumpet wind!
Enter Lorenzo.

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo; more of this here-

after.

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long

abode ;
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait ;
When you shall please to play the thieves for wiv«
I’ll watch as long for you then.—Approach ; | ee

~ 1 ,

liere dwells my father Jew :—Ho! who’s within‘
Enter Jessica above, in boy’s clothes.
Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,

Jes

(1) Decorated with flags,

ANT

  
    
   
    
  
  
  
    
     
    
   
  
  
  
       
   
   
    
   
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
   
    
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 

I VENICE.

Albeit Pil swear that I do know your tongue.
Lov. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jes. Lorenzo, certs ain 5 and my love, indeed ;
tr who love I so much? And now who knows,
»ut you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ?
Lor. Heaven 1, and thy thoughts, are witness that

180

Ts?
i

‘
‘

7

|
B

thou art.

Jes. Mere, catch this casket ; itis worth the pains.
I am glad ’tis nig ht, you do not look on me,
for Lam much asham’d of my exchange :

But love is blin a, and lovers cannot see

lhe pretty follies i themselves commit ;
lor if they could, upid himself would blush
‘l’o ‘me thas a stormed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my toreh-bearer.

J What, must I hold a candle tomy shames ?
They in ean ametd hat sooth, are too, too light.
Why, tis an off ce of dise overy, love;

And I should be obseur’d.
i. Lars So are you, sweet,
[ven in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once:

For the close night = play the run-away,

And we art staid f yr t Bassanio’s fe ast.

Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself

With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
[ Hail, from above.
Gri “i by my hood, a Gentile, ‘and no Jew.
Lor. B rew me, but I love her heartily :
“or she is wise, if I can judge of her ;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ;
And true she is, as she hath prov’d he self:
\nd therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
ull she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter Jessica, below.
What, art thou come ?—On, gentlemen, away ;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
[Exit with Jessica and Salarino.
Enter Antonio.

“int. Who's there ?

Gra. Sign) \ntonio ?

elnt. Fie, fie, Gratiano? where are all the rest?

is nine o’clock ; our friends all stay for you :—
No masque to-night: the wind is come about,
Bass a ) presently will go aboard:

I have sent twenty out to seek for you.

Gra. 1am glad on’t; I desire no more delight,
Chan to be under sail, and gone to-night. [Eze.
SCENE VIEL—Belmont. A room in Portia’s

house. lourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with

the pri of rene and both their trains.

Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover
lhe several caskets to this noble prince :—

Ni ma! eee ce

Mor. The first, of gold, who this inseription

be MWS oo

Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
The second; silver, which this promise earries —
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserv eS,
The third, dull | ead, with warning all as blunt ;—
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.

How shall I know if I do choose the right ?

Por. The one of them contains my pic ture, prince ;
[f you choose that, then | am yours withal.

Mor. Some vod direct my judgment! Let me

see,

will survey the inseriptions back again :

Vhat says this leaden casket ?
W ho chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.
Must give—F or what 7 ? forlead? hazard for lead}?

iThis casket threatens; Men, that hazard all,oa atonet ie

 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
    
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
   

sey sits si1 anaes oe”

Ie ae

Fhe ES ETE STINE LI NET Te LO ce ET

‘390 MERCHANT

Mo it in hope of fair advantages :

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ;
Pil then nor give, nor hazard, aught for leac.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue ?

    
  
   

OF VENICE. Aci II,

Salan. The villain Jew with outeries rais’d the
duke ;

 

a i > ,
i'Who went with him to search Bassanio’s ship.

Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail -

Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. | But there the duke was given to understand,
As much as he deserves !—Pause there, Morocco,|That in a gondola were seen together

And weigh thy value with an even hand:

If thou be’st rated by thy estimation,

Thou dost deserve enough; and yet cnough

May not extend so far as to the lady ;

And yet to be afeard of my deserving,

Were but a weak disabling of myself.

As much as I deserve !—Why, that’s the lady :

I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,

In graces, and in qualities of breeding ;

But more than these, in love I do deserve.

What if I stray’d no further, but chose here ;—

Let’s see once more this saying grav’d in gold:

Who chooseth me, shall gain what many inen desire.

Why, that’s the lady ; all the world desires her :

From the four corners of the earth they come,

To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.

The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds

Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now,

For princes to come view fair Portia:

The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head

Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar

To stop the foreign spirits ; but they come,

As o’er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her-heavenly picture.

Is’t like, that lead contains her? ’T' were damnation,

To think so base a thought; it were too gross

To rib! her cerecloth in the obscure grave.

Or shall I think, in silver she’s immur’d,

Being ten times undervalued to try’d gold?

O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England

A coin, that bears the figure of an angel

Stamped in gold: but that’s inseulp’d? upon ;

But here an angel in a golden bed

Lies all within.—Deliver me the key ;

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form li
there,
ThenI am yours. [He unlocks the
Mor. O hell! what have we here?

A carrion death, within whose empty eye

There is a written scroll? Ill read the writing,
All that glisters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told :
Many aman his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscre!l’d
Fare you well ; your suit is cold.

rolden casket.

d

Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome, frost.—
Portia, adieu! I have too griev’d a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus Josers part. [F-rit.
Por. A gentle riddance :——Draw the curtains,

£0 ;
Let all of his complexion choose meso. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.—Venice. A street.
rino and Salanio,

Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail ;
With him is Gratiano gone along ;

SS

And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not.

t Enclose. (2) Engraven,
4) To slubber is to do a thing carelessly

Enter Sala-

(3) Conversed. |

\lorenzo and his amorous Jessica :

| Besides, Antonio certify’d the duke,

| They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

| Salen. I never heard a passion se contus’d,

So strange, outrageous, and so variable,

\As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:

My daughter !—O my ducats !—O my daughter !

| Fled with a Christian ?—O my Christian dueats !

Justice! ihe law ! my ducats, and my daughter !

| Al ¥ ali l ba r lino sé aled bars of ducals,

| Of double ducais, stol’n from me by my daughter !

And jewels ; two rich and precious

slones,

slo?n bu my danger !—Juslice! find the girl.

She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats !
Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,

Crying,—his stones, his daughter, and his ducats
salan. Let good Antoni. look he keep his day,

Or he shall pay for this. ;
Salar, Marry, well remember’d ;

I reason’d? with a Frenchman yesterday ;

Who told me,—in the narrow seas, that part

The French and English, there miscarried

\ vessel of our country, richly freught:

[ thouzht upon Antonio, when he told me;

And wish’d in silence, that #t were not his.

lwo slones,

Selan. You were best to tell Antonio what you
hear: :

Yet do mot suddenly, for it may grieve him.

Salar. A kinder eentleman treads not the earth.
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part:
Bassanio told him, he would make some speed
Of his return; he answer’d—Do not so,
Slubber’ net business jor my sake, Bassani i
Rut stay the very ripinge of the time;
Ind for the Jew’s bond, which he hath of me,

Let it not enter in-your mind of love:

e merry, and employ your chief st thoughts
10 courtship, and such fair ostents® of love
Ms shall convents nily becoine you there :

And even there, his eve beine big with tears,
he put his hand behind him,
(nd with affection wondrous sensible

NYNnINne is face
int fy ii ace,

He wrung Bassanio’s hand, and so they parted.
a ist , . ;
. 1. I think, he only loves the world for him,
I pray thee let us go, and find him out,

id quicken his embraced heaviness*
Seriin et
iVith some delicht or cthéT,

Doweso. |[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.—Belmont. & room in tin?
‘ont ortia’s
house. Enter Nerissa, with a servant.

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the cur
tain straight :
The prince of Arragon has ta’en his oath,
And comes to his election presently,
Flourish of cornets. Enter the prince of Arragon
Portia, and their trains, ~ ro

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince:
If you choose that wherein I am contain’d,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd :
}But if you fail, without more speech, my lord
|You must be gone from hence immediately, ,
| «Jr. 1am enjoin’d by oath to observe three things

5) Shows, tokens.
6) The heaviness he 1s fond of,

ed
1 (Neene i,

MERCHANT OF VENICR,

First, never to unfold to any one
Which e ee twas I chose

Of the right
To woo

Por,

“as

}

Ket, never in
am: sid j in way of marriage; lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my che Nice,
Immediately to |

ave you anc

next, if I fail
my lige

;

lL be gone

l'o these injunctions every one doth swear

r
hat comes to hazard for my worthless self.

Ar. And so have I address’d! me : Fortune
ro my heart's hope !—Gold, silver, and base le:
Who chooseth me, must

oy
Pive a

Ihe now

md ha-a

j } il

, ;
lard Git he hati:

Yu ou shall look fairer, ere I give. or ha ard.
nat says the olden chest

hi | let me see :—

We ho chor sel} L7Lé, sh ili 9 int } MANY MER as
Wh: it many me nde “sire. —Thi at many may be meant
By the fool multitud , that choose by show,

Not ™ arning more than the fond eve doth teac}
Whict h pri *s not to the int rior, but, like the martlet
Builds in the we athe on the outward wall,

Even in th * force? and road of casualty.

I will not choose what many men desire,

Because I will not jump? with common pirits,

}

And rank me with the barbar

Why, then to thee,

; si.
thou s

US multituc

rCr Lreasure-f) ul
ell me once more what title thou dost
Who chooseth me, shall cet as muchas hy ves

oa ‘ :

An vell said too Fo; \\ ) i | go ut
‘ys . - ’ '
io cozen fortune, and | ionourab!]
Without the stamp of merit! Let;
mm _ : i
lo wear an undeserved dienity.
Q, that estates, d rrees, and Ces,
Were not deriv’d corruptly! i clear hon
Vere purchas’d by the 1 I ‘th er!
How many then should « ; d | :
How many be comman , hat cammand
j Be ot } 41 ; , ae |
How much low peas hiry wouid wn I r] nN’
From the true OF nde 3 nd } much

Pick’d from the
’

arn een varnish’d? Well, but to my ¢
r ; y ,
Ws selh me, shall ret cs much serves
I will assume desert ;—Give me a key for this.
And instantly unk ek my {i rt s hr e.
Por. Too long a pau t which you fii
there
EL a eae ;
Al What’s her cf iC Do} itota bi walle? Gal
ce | 1} *4
Pri senting me a schedule? I will Lj
;
How much unlike art thou to ]
Hi : see} TY |y 5 } \ /
1OW mucn unlike my s iva
Who chooseth me, shall have as nuich as | CSEIVES
. ; ;
Did t deserve no more than a fvol’s hea
_ . me << a ‘ eh aces
Is that my prize? are my des: no better
Por. To oflend, and judce, net offices

chaff and ruin of the ti nes,

And of opposed natures.

AY.
The fir e

Seven ti mes tried that ju
That did never choose an
Some there be, that

Such have
There be

seven times tried this ;
loment is,
ioc -
shad ne kei
Dict asia ] yee bli Ss

, °
Joo! $ alt

Suver'd o'er = cond so Ww
maa ss .
Take what wife you wil
a will ever be your head :

So begone
Still more

With one fool’s head

sir’, you are

fool I shall a

By the time I linger here

SCG,
i

us thi S.

lLtob d,
/

ppear

I came to woo,

But I go away with two.—
Sweet, adieu! [ll kee;

Patiently to bear my wr

{Exeunt

) my oath,

oth.

Arragon, and train,

Por. Thus hath the candle sing’d the moth,

(1) Prepared.

(2) Power,

(3) Agree with

|

(O these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
We er. The ancient s saying is no heresy —
Hanein 1g and wiving goes by destiny.
Por, Come, draw “the curt: ain, Nerissa,
Enter a Servant.
serv. Where is my lady?
Por, Here ; what would my lord }
Serv. Madam, there is alich hted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes be ‘fore
lo signify the aoe hing of his lord;
From whom he bri th sensible regreets ;5
es Ccomn mends, and courteous breath,
“tilts of rich value : yet I have not seen
So like ly an embass ador of love:

Lo wit, besid

in April never came so siveet,
lo show how caaita summer was at hand,

\s this fore-s purrer comes before his lord.

Por. N » mere, I a ay thee; Tam half afeard,
Thou wilt say anon, wa ls some kin to thee, :
thou spend’st sue i hit gh-day wit in praising him.—

Come, come, Nerissa; for J nd to sce

uiex Cupid’s post, that comes so m:; innerly,
a , : ] .

ever, bassanio, lsrd love, if thy will it be!

[ Exeunt,
—g>———.
AG'E ith.

SCENE I.—Venice. .4 street. Enter Salanio,
and Salarino.

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?

salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck ’d, that
inionio hath a ship of rich lading wreck’d on the
narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call- the

a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the
carcases of many at all ship lie buried, ‘as they say
~ . 7 ’

f my gossip report be an honest woman of her word,
Salaun. | would she were as lyi ing a gossip in that,
sever knapp’d ginger, or made her neighbours be-

lieve she wept for the death of a third husband :

But it is true,—without any slips of prolixity, or
cro sing the plain high-way of talk,— th at the good
Ant », the honest Antonio,—O that I had a title
od enough to keep his name company !—
Salar. Come, the | full stop,
Salan, Ha,—what naval thou?—Why the end
» he hath lost a ship. : ’

Salar. 1 would it might prove the end of his

Salan, Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil
cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness
of a Jew .

Enter Shylock.

How now, Shylock? what news among the mer-
Shy. You knew, none so well, none so weil as
you, of my daughter’s flight.
' Salar. That’s certain; I, for my part, knew the
tailor th it made the wings she flew withal,

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the
bird was fledg’d; atid then it is the complexion of
them all to leave the dam.

Shy. She is damn’ d for it.

Salar. That’s certain, if the devil may be her

judat

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel !

Salan, Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these
years ?

(4) Know, ‘5) Salutations,

   
     
 
      
    
 
   
     
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
      
   
 
   
 
 
    
 
   
  
     
   
 
   
    
    
  
    
  
 
  
   
  
 
  
   
 
   
    
 
    
  
  
  
     
  
    
   
 
   
  
  
 
 
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 

1Y]

mee

|"Ne 5 Nie de” ESRI le ae

 

 

     
   
   
 
  
   
   
   
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

199 MERCHANT OF VENICE. Act ILL.

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard,
Salar. There is more diflerence between thy fle sh} one night, fourseore ducats,
and hers, than between jet and iv ry - more be-| Shy. Thou stick’st a dagger in me:——I shall

tween your bloods, than there is between red wine|never see my gold agi Lin: Fourscore ducats at a

and rhenish : :—But tell us, do you ‘he ‘ar whether|sitting! fourscore ducats!

Antonio have had any loss at sea Or no? | Tub. There came divers of Antonio’s creditors
Shy. There I have another bad match: a ban <-|in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot

rupt, a prodigal, who dares scarce : show his head | on|choose but break.

the Rialto ;—a beggar, that uscd to come sosmug} Shy, Tam very glad of it; I'll plague him; Vl
upon the mart ; -—lat him | look to his bon d: he was| torture him; Lam glad of it.

svont to call me usurer —let him look to his bond:| T'ub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had

he was wont to lend money for a ¢ ‘hristian courte-|of your daughter for a monkey.
|. Shy. Out upon he rt Thou torturest me, Tubal :
hou wilt|it was my turquoise ;! I had it of Leah, whe nl was
not take his flesh; What’s that good for la bachelor: I oun ‘nol have given it for a wilder-
Shy. To bait fish ital : if it will feed nothing |ness of monkies
else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced| Tub. But Antonio is cert: iinly undone. —
eme, and hinderé d me of half'a million: laughed at| Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true ; Go, Tu
my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, bal, fee me an ofheer, be: speak him a fortnight be-
Wthwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated |tore : [ will have the heart of him, if he forfeit ;
inine enemies ; and wh ’s his reason? I ama Jew:|for were he out of Venice, I can make what mer-
Math not a Jew eves? hath not a Jew hands, organs, |Chandise I will; Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with|our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our syna-
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject|gogue, ‘Tubal. {£axeunt.
te the same diseases, healed by the same means, : :
; SCENE I.—Belmont. A room in Portia’s

warmed and cooled by the same winter and sum- ! . room tn
mér, as a Christian is? if you prick us, do we not house. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Ne-

sy :—let him look to his bond.
Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit,

}

 

biced ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you rissa, and attendants. The caskets are set out.

poison us, do we nee die? and if you wrong us, Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two,

shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,

rest, we willrescmble youinthat. IfaJew wrong | lose your company ; therefore, forbear a while.

a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; If a! There’s something tells me (but it is not love, )

Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance,f would not lose you; and you know yourself,

be by Christian example? why, revenge. ‘The| Hate counsels not in such a quality:

villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall) But lest you should not understand me well

eo hard, but I will better the instruction. (And yet « maiden hath no tongue but thought, )
Enter a Servant. { would detain you here some month or two,

Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio ts at hi ry Sad aia then’ ee aoe vor

house, and desires to speak with you both. pe WY oat ie S ae Se aids 4
: a will I never be : So may you miss me
Salar. We have been up and down fo seek him. p,.+ 4f vou do. youll make me Wish « ae
But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin
Enter Tubal. That [had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,

Salan. Here comes another of thetribe ; a third)They have o’ lobe d me, and divided me ; ©
cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn) One h uf of me is yours, the other half yours,
Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,

Shy. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa?) And so: ar yours: O! these naughty times’
hast thou found my daughter ? Put bars between the owners and their rights ;

Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but) And so, though yours, not yours.—Prove it so,
cannot find her. Let fortune xO 0 he ll for it,—not I.

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a liamond|{ sp (hy too long: but ’tis to peize? the time ;
gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! To eke it, and't to draw it out in length, ;
The curse never fell upon our ion till now; J!To stay vou from election.
never felt it till now :—two thousand ducatsinthat:| Bass. — Let me choose’;
and other precious, precious jewels.—I would, my|For, as Tam, I live uy por the rack.
daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in} Por. Upon the rack, Biiseniilo'? then confess
her ear! ’would she were hears’d at my foot, and} What treason there : mingled with vour s0ve,
the ducats in her coffin! No news ft 2m ?—Why, Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust
so:—and I know not what’s spent in the search:| Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love :

Why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so/ There may as well be amity and life
much, and so much to find the thief; and no satis-|’T ween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

faction, no revenge: nor no ill | ick tirring, but Por. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack,
what lights o’ my shoulders; no sighs, but o’ my| Where men enforced do speak any thing.
breathing ; no tears, but o’ my shedding. | Bass. ee »me life, and Pll confess the truth,
Tub. Y es, other men have ill luck too; Antonio,} Por. Well then, confess, and hive.
ee yinet. whet’ wi > il luck. ill luck ? I — ‘cane . Vonte and: love,
Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? — |Had been the very sum of my confession :
Tub. —hath an argosy cast away, coming from) O happy torment, when my torturer
Tripolis. Doth teach me answers for deliverance !
Shy. I thank God, I thank God:—Is it true? is| But let me to my fortune and the caskets,
it true? | Por. Away then: I am lock’d in one of them ;

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that es-|If you do love me, you will find me out,—
caped the wreck, | Nerissa, and the rest, stand al) aloof.—
Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal ;—Good news, |
‘

good news; ha! ha !—Where? in Genoa? (1) A precious stone, (2) Delay,Scene Il. MERCHANT Ok

Let music sound. while |

  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
   
         
  
     
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 

SNICE. iD

i¢ doth make his choice; |As doubt tful thoughts, and rash-embrae’d despair
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan i-like end, | And shudd’ring fear and green- -ey’d jealousy.
Fading in music: that the com) paris on |O love, be moderate, all lay thy ecstasy,
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, |In measure ra in thy joy, seant this excess :
And wal’ ry de rath-be ad for hirn : He may win : ii Les | too ich thy blessing, make it less,
And what is music then? then music is tor fear | urfeit !
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow | Bass. What find I here ?
To a new “crowned monareh: such it is, [ Opening the leaden casket.
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, )4uir Portia’s counterfeit 78 W hat demi-god
That creep into the dreaming bridesroom’: ear, |Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes ?
And summo: t him to marriage. Now he eo : (Or wh a ee balls of mine,
With no less } rire sence,’ but with much m love,|Seem they in motion? Here are sever *d lips,
Than young Alei ides, when he did redeem dv th sug ar breath ; so sweet a bar
The virgin tribute paid by howling Tro, ld sunder such belt friends: Here in her
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice, ti
The rest aloof are the Dard nian w ives, inter i lays the spice a0 5 and hath woven
With bleared visages. con iorth t 1 mesn to entrap the hearts of men,
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! i than : rats in cobweb bs: But her eyes, —
Live thou, I live :—With much much m ‘low could he see to do them? having made one,
l view the fight, than thou that mak’st the fray Vi >] ould have power to steal both his,
y (nd » itself urnish’d: Yet look, how far’
Music, whilst Bass: anio comments on the ¢ The substance of'my, praise : doth wrong this shadow
self, in wu ry rizi 1 it, so fk ar this shadow
SONG. | Doth limp behind tht e substance, —Here’s the scroll,
1. Tell me, where ts fancy? bred. | {he continent and summary of my fortune.

Or in the

e art, or

You that choose not by the view,
Hi w berot, he w nour ted f Chances as fair, ind choose as true} ?
Re ply 2. Itts engender’d in the en :. S e ihis fort te fails to you,
With razine fed: and fancy di Be « nt and séek no new.
In the cradle where it lies - be well pleas’d with this,
Let us all ring fancy’s kn “Ind hold your fortune for your ‘bliss,
Pu begin it poe , tx, bell, you where your lady is,
All. Ding, dong, bell. imd claim her u sith a loving kiss.
Bass.—So may the outward sh e] m-|A gentle scroll ;—Fair lady, by your leave ;
selves ; [Kissing her,
The world is still deceiv’d with ornament. i come by note, to give, and to receive,
in law, what plea so tainted and cor : » of two contending in a prize,
But, being si ason’d with a gracious? 1 ' That thin he hath done well in people’s s eyes,
Obscures the show of evil? In relizion, H ause, and universal shout,
What damned erro » but soms sober | still gazing, i ina doubt
Will bless it, and ; it with ’ ' se peals of praise be his or no;
Hiding this ¢roeales ss with f ‘! -fair lady, stand I, even so ;
There is no vice so simple, | rer what I see be true,
Some mark of virtue on his d, sign’d, ri tified by you.
How many cowards, whos j » you me, 10] ‘d Bass: Ln1O, where I stand,
As stairs of sand, wear ( siam: though, for myself alone,
The beards of Hercules, and fi L) . mbitious in my wish,
Who, inward search’d, have livers w! as] h if’ mi uch better yet, for you,
And these assume but valour’ rement. bled twenty times my self’; !
To render them redoubted. I | umes more fair, ten thousand times
And you shall see is purch qg DY Lne it eat
Which therein works a miracle in natu ) nd nign On your account,
Making them lightest that w most n Vi re : utie s, livings, frie nds,
So are those crisped* snaky golden locks, ccount: bul : full sum of me
Which make such wanton gambol ith t 1 Ol ULNe 5 which, to term in gross,
Upon oe d fairness, often known nile | gir school’ d, unpractis’d :
T’o be the dowry of a second head, y She Is no yet so old ,
The scull that bred them in the sepulc! may learn ; and hi ppler than this,
Thus ornament is but the ruiled® sh LD: ne tea but she can learn ;
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous se H t of all, 1s, that : her gentie spirit
Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 1] eit to yours to be aon r
The seeming truth which cunning times | uton As trom ner ford, her governor, het Ve, :
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou: aud) iG, | IVE , and what is mine, a you, the a
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee: converted; but now I was the r ‘
Saas . Ws wlan ace » drud 0 fair mansion, master of my servants,
Nor none of thee, thou patton ci mm i o rudge ee tate a evan angles en oan
*T ween man and man: but thou, t h ; anes ; | louse, these servants, and thie same myself,
Which rather threat’nest, than doth promise: ught, | 40 Pe hagt Weed + 1 Nave a wtih this ting
Thy plainness moves ine more than eloquence Uh ich when ¢ irt from, lose, or give awa
j ‘re choose I: Jov be the conse: ju re: ;¥Viuen when yt mM pa ir rom, Cy £ Vy
And here t : | sir iT.et it presage the ruin of your love
Por. How all the other passions thee t to alr, | presag ’
| {nd be my vantage to exclaim on you,

1) Dienity of mien.
3) Winning favour,

(2) Love.

. (4) Curled,

 

(5) 7

‘reacherous.

(6) Likeness, portrait,
2Ben

a age a

Sia isi is Se

ee eae TSW

fi

   
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
    
  
 
 
  
  
     
 
  
   
  
  
  
    

 

 

 

 

oc a

ig4 MERCHANT OF VENICE.

Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words,

GUnly my blood speaks to you in my veins :

And there is such confusion in my powers,

As, after some oration fairly spoke

By a beloved prince, there doth appear

Among the bua pened multitude ;

Where every something, being blent! together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express’d, and not express’d: But ale this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence ;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio’s dead.

Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by, and seen our wishes prosper,
To ery, good joy ; Good joy, my lord, and lady!

Gra. My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady!

I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For, I am sure, you can wish none from me:
And, when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you
Even at that time I may be marricd too.

Bass, With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. |

Gra. I thank your lordship; you have got me one. |
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours :
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ;
You lov’d, I lov’d; for intermission?

No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood uponi t!:e caskets there ;

  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
  

Act ill.

Your hand, Salerio; What's the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
I know, he will be glad of our success ;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece,
Sale. ’Would you had won the fleece that he
hath lost !
Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon’
same paper,
That steal the colour from Bagsanio’s cheek :
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ?—
With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself,
And I must freely have the half of any thing
That this same paper brings you.
Bass. O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words,
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ;
And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,

|Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
b " =) .

How much I was a braggart: When I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,

I have engag’d myself to a dear friend,

 

And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here, until I sweat again;
And swearing, till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love; at last,—if promise lasi,—
I got a promise of this fair one here, |
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achiev’d her mistress. |
Por. Is this true, Nerissa ?
Ner. Madam, it is, so vou stand pleas’d withal. |
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. |
Bass. Our feast shall be much honour’d in your!
marriage.
Gra, We'll play with them, the first boy for a|
thousand ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down ?—
Gra, No; we shall ne’er win at that sport, and|
stake down,——
But who comes here? Lorenzo, and his infidel ? |
What, my old Venetian friend, Salerio ? |

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio.

Bass. Lorenzo, and Salerio, welcome hither; |
If that the youth of my new interest here |
Have power to bid you welcome :—By your leave, |
I bid my very friends and countrymen,

(To Tubal,

|Engag’d my friend to his mete enemy,

To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ;
The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood.—But is it true, Salerio ?
Have all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbe, Barbary, and India? _
And not one vessel ’scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?

Sale. Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
The present moncy to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it: Never did I know
A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man:
He plies the duke at morning, and at night:
And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
The duke himself, and the magnificoes*
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ;
But none can drive him from the envious plea
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.

Jes. When I was with him, I have heard him

s\veal

and to Chus, his countrymen,

Sweet Portia, welcome. | That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh,
Por, So do I, my lord; | Than twenty times the value of the sum

They are entirely welcome.

Lor. 1 thank your honour :--For my part, my

lord, |
My purpose was not to have seen you here ;
But meeting with Salcrio by the way, '
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
C I did, my lord,

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio .
Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter.)

Bass. Ere I ope his letter, |
I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.

r
}

hat he did owe him: and I know, my lord,

If law, authority, and power deny not,

it will go hard with poor Antonio,

Por. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble ?
Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,

iThe best condition’d and unwearied spirit
‘In doing courtesies; and one in whom

r

he ancient Roman honour more appears,
Chan any that draws breath in Italy.
Por. What sum owes he the Jew?
Bass. ¥or me, three thousand ducats.,
Por. What, no more?

e. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; | Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ;

Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there
Will show you his estate.

Double six thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description

Gra, Nerissa, cneer yon’ stranger; bid her wel-|Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.

come,

(1) Blendes (2) Pause, delay.

First, go with me to church, and call me wife:

($3) The chief men,Seesle ii),

And } then away ta Veit e ta your {rie nd 3
“or never shall you lie by Portia’s side

With an unquict soul. You shall have gold
To p ay the petty debt twe nty times over ;

;
When it is pai id bring your true friend alone:
My mad N rissa, and myself, mean time,
Will live as maids and widows. Come,
For you shall hence upon your wed
Bid your friends weleome, show a
Since ycu are dear bought, i!
ty ir the he tler Li ‘nad,
[Reads.] Sweet Bassanic, my ships hav

But let ri¢
Bass my siips he
> cruel,

; ye
al miscarried, iny creditors erot
5
» my bend lo the iS forjeul; a)
. ae . . - = os Z ,
» ta paylie iw, if is wnpossid! I sh bi

} i live
j
; .
ali deb! are Civ

away:
1; ] =
ung-day:

saerry cheer :!
OVe Vou de

é
;

: pen

ws very lor

SLilee

md J, if d might

uSeé

pei Siladile you to

s, and be gone,
rood leave to vo LWay,
[ will make haste: But, till I come avain, —

ved shall e’er be cuilty stay,

No rest be in Crpo “us

No}
twain.
(Exeunt.
-] street Enter
Antonio, and Gaoler.

to + —— | el]

SC E NE i17.—Venice.

—
Shylock
Salanio,

ge
Shy, ook him not me

Gaol T. |
mercy ;-——
This is the fool th if lent Ou
Gaol r, 0 him.

ofl,
Shy. I

t money vratis ;-—

lo yk {
I]

my boud

yet, eood

Shylock.
il have t mm)

bond:
Il have sworn

; ; speak not agains

on oath, that I will

have my bond

Thou calldst me doz, before thou had’st a cause:
Sut, since | am a dog, beware my fangs
Ch e duk e shall rrant me justice.—I do wonder
Thou naughty cacler, that thou art so fond?
To come abroad with him at his re quest

Aint. I prav thee, hear m epeal

Shy. 7 have iay bond; I will not hear thee

eak :

Ill have Wy bond : and the refore Sty ik no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey’d fool,
To shake the he id, relent, and sizh, and yl ld
To Christian intercessors. Follow not:
lil have no speaking; I will have my bond.
[Frit Shylock.
Salan, It is the most impenetrable cur,
That ever kept with men.
Ant. Let him alone,
Il! follow him no more with bootless prayers.
He seeks my life; his reason well I know ;

from his forfeiture 5
at times made

IT oft deliver’d
Many that

lia ve

moan to me;
Therefore he hates m
Salan. Tam sure, the duke
Will never vrant this forfeiture to hold. ‘
nt. The dulce cannot deny the course of law.

}

Fur the commodity that strangers have
With us in Venice, if it be

Will much impeach the justice ol
Since that the trade and profit ol he |
Consisteth of Therefore, go:

dente ile

all nations.

aa Viated mo

These griefs and losses have so *bated me,
i} . ] " 1

That I shal! hardly spare a pound of flesh

litor.

Bassanio come

1 , . sf
To-morrow to my bloody ert

MERCHANT OF VENICR,

of

To wish it back on you:
Now,

So let me find thee still:

WI

But re

‘
Tha

185

SCENE IV.—Belmont. A #oom in Portia’s

gh I speak it in your pre-

}

| house. Enter Portia, Nerissa , Lorenzo, Jessica,
| and Balthazar.

| Lor. Madam, althoug!

}

sence eC,
You have a noble and a true conecit

}Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your lord.

ar.—/| But, it you knew to whom you show this honour,

How true a eentleman you send relief,
How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
I know, you would be prouder of the work,
Phan custom: uy bounty ean enforce you.
Por, I never did repent for doing good,
— shall not now: for in companions
hat do converse and waste the time together
i hose souls do bear an equal yoke of love,
| There must be needs a like proportion
Of lineame nts, of manners, and of spirit ;
Which makes me think, that this Antonio,

iBeine oe bosom lover of my lord,

Must needs be like my lord: Ifit be sO,
i\How f ttle is the cost I have bestow “a,
{n purchasing the semblance of my soul
From out the state cf hellish crue sty ?
This comes too near the praising of myself;
Therefore no more of it: hear other things. —
L sore nzo, I commit into your hands
. husb: andry and manage of my house,

U ntil my lord’s return: for mine own part,
I have toward heaven breath’d a secret vow
To live in prayer and contemplation,
rat attended by Nerissa here,

ntil her husband and my lord?s return :
rT here is a monastery two miles off,
And there we will abide. Ido desire you,
Not to deny this imposition ;
The which my love, and some necessity,
Now lays upon you.

Lor. Madam, with all my heart;
\T shall obey you in all fair c ommands,

Por. My people do already know my mind,
(nd will acknowledge you and Jessica

in place of lord Bassanio and myself.

So fare vou well, till we shall meet again.
Lor. Fair thoughts, and happy hours, attend on
you.
Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content.

Por. 1 thank you for your wish,

pleas’d

and am well

fare you well, Jessica,—
{[Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo.

Balthazar,

\s I have ever found thee honest, true,

Take this same letter,

And use thou all the endeavour of a man,

In spee d to P adua : see thou render this
Into my cousin’s hand,
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give

doctor Bellario ;

thee

Bring them, [ pray thee, with imagin’d speed

to the common fe rry

‘ich trades to Venice :—waste no time in w ords,

't thee zone; I shall be there before thee,

Madam, I go with all convenient speed,
[ Exit.

some on, Nerissa; I have work in hand,

you vet know not of: we'll see our husbands,

nto the tranect,

Balth.

Por. (

r ri scfore t think of us.
‘ll. eaoler. on :—Pray God, Before they a
W ell, gao rs | V3 bk eA © ete act 3 Nor. Shall they sce us?
‘T'o sce me pay this de yf, and then Il care not: ane
a [Exeunt.| Por. They shall, Nerissa: put in such a habit,
Tha toey snast think we are accomplished

(1) Face, (2) Foolish,

With wna. We mer.

s te fiat nee

any wager,Sanat ie

aT

 

196 MERCHANT OF VENICE. Act 1V

Whén we are both accoutred like young men, |silence ; and discourse grow commendable in none
J’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two, only but parrots. —Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare
And wear my dagger with the braver orace ; for dinner.

And speak, between the change of man and ‘boy, Laun. That is done, sir; they have all stomac hs.
With a reed voice e; and turn two mine ing steps Lor. Goodly lord, what a Wit-snapper are you!
Into a manly stride; and speak of frays, ithen bid them preps ire dinner.
Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lies, Laun. That is done too, sir; only, cover is the
How honourable ladies sought my love, word,

Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; Lor. Will you cover then, sir?

I could not do withal ;—then Pll repent Laun. Not so, sir, neither; Iknow my duty.
And wish, for all the it, that I had not kill’d them: Lor. Yet more qui rrelling with oceasion! Wilt

And twenty of these pt iny lies PII tell, thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an in-
That men shall swear I have discor tin ued school |stant? I pray thee, unde stand a plain man in his
Above a twelvemonth :—I have within my mind |plain meaning: go to thy fellows; bid them cover

 

A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in
Which I will practise. ito dinner. ees
fer. Why, shall we turn to men?} Lawn. For the table, sir, it shall be served in;
Po Fie! what a qu stion’s that, for the ae it, fits it shall be covered ; for your
If shen wert near a lewd interpreter? icoming in to dinne ry Sit, why, let it be as humours
But come, Ill tell thee all my whole device and conceits shall govern. [Exit Launcelot.
When I ain in my coach, which stays for us | Lor. O dear disc retion, how his words are
At the park gate; and the refore haste away suited !

J) iT] : oe E "
[Exe.|The fool hath planted in his memory

a * e : An army of good words; And I do know
SCENE V.—The same. A Garden. Enter A many fools, ;

that stand in better place,
Launcelot and Jessica. |Garnish’d ithe him, th: it for a tricksy word

Laun. Yes, truly :—for, look you, ws sins of ely the meatier. ‘ ons 48 saepenenice !
the father are to be laid upon the child: there-|; lito | Oey ee le # ’ en i S opinion, fe
fore, I promise you, I fear you. I was abe: Lys pla ; van De all i fet “ane eed
with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the noe x aBt Aa star Wi ssing : " Pie — ,
matter: Therefore, be of good cheer; for, truly, Phe lord Buss: a ve an upright ee :

I think, you are damn’ d. There is but one hope in Hi, Ne y are sues pe Wiessing i Hae ‘th;
it that can do you any good ; and that is but a kind ind Inds the j ae o Sy aven here on earth
of bastard hope neither. nd, i ee vould ee eet i

Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee ? i es tk ne i ene is sl ant ‘la Ome 50 SAE 1 te}

Laun. Marry Ys You may partly hope that your enh ry a play some heaven y match,
father got you not, that you are not the Jew’s|‘\™ on the wager lay tw ) earthly women,
daughter. : And Pe one, ther © e must be some thing else

Jes. That were a kind of bastard hi pe, indeed ; awn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world

ey Hath not her fellow.
so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me. | ’

For we must measure twenty miles to-day

Laun. Truly then I fear you are damn’d both i. at 1 fell ad een such a husband
by father and mother: ihus when 1 shun Seylla, Jes Na ey a ai eae nal he . were hs
your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother: - oe ee my ree a olf at
well, you are gone both ways. 4 . Wi non; in i cl us go ty dinner,
Jes. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath “we ASD let me praise you, while I have a
made me a Christian. stomach.

} . AY’, No i ( ki 5C ; -
Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we were ta No, pray thee, | tit A for table talk,

; Chen, howsoe’er t] sp 9
Christians enough before; e’en as many as could [sl ae ‘eee Mt, ‘mong other things
well live, one by another : This making of Christians|* S)@U digest It

a aI Vell, Pll set you fort! y
will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be Jes. Well, Pll set you forth, [Eve
pork-eaters, we shall not sh ortly have a rasher on —

the coals for money.

Enter Lorenzo. ACT IV.
Jes. Pil tell my husband, Launcelot, what you
say; here he comes.
ae. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launee-
lot, if you thus get my wife into corner
es. Nay, you need not fear us, "Lorenzo ; Duke. What, is Antonio here ?
Launcelot ‘and } are out: he t ils me flatly, there} ..4nt, Ready, s¢
is no mere y for me in heaven, because [ama Jew’s! Duke. |]
daughter: and he says, you are no good member| swer
of the commonwealth ; for, in conve ring Jews to|A stony adive ‘sary, an inhuman wretel

Cc yy Arn 1: .
SCENE I.—Venice

| } ry } ‘
{ Duke, the Ma

A court of Justice. Enter
enificoes ; Antonio, Bassanio,
lakes a Few ;

Grauano, Salarino, Salanio, and others

& ¢

) please your grace.

aim sorry for thee; thou art come to an-

i
Christians, you raise the price of pork. | Uneapal le of pity, void and empty
Lor. I shall answer that better to the common-!From any dram of mercy,
wealth, than-you can the getting up of the negro’s| Ant. [have heard,

belly : ‘the Moor i is with child by you, Launcelot. |Your grace hath ta’en creat pains to qualify
Laun. It is muc h, that the Moor should be more! His ri ous Course; but since he stands obdur: ite,
than reason: but if she be less than an honest! And t}

h sf no lawful mean ean carry me
woman she is, indeed, more than I took her for. |Out of his envy’s! reach, I do Oppose
Lor. \low every fool can play upon the word !| \My patience to his fury; and am arm’d

I think, the best grace of wit will shortly turn into| To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
|The very ‘tybanay and rage of his,

(1) Hatred, malice, Duke, Go one, and call the Jew into the court,Scene I. MERCHANT

OF VENICE. 197

Salan. He’s ready atthe door: he comes, my lord. |You may as well do any thing most hard,

Enter Shylock.

Duke, Make room, and let him stand before our
face.—
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act; and then, ’tis thought
rhou’lt show thy mercy and remorse,' more sffinge
Than is thy strange apparent? cruelty :
And where? thou now exact’st the penalty
(Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh, )
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture, |
But touch’d with human gentleness and love,
“forgive a moiety of the principal ;
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back ;
Enough to press a royal merchant down,
\nd pluck commiseration of his state
From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint,
rom stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train’d
lo offices of tender courtesy.
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
Shy. I have possess’d your grace of what I]
pose ;
And by our holy sabbath have I sworn,
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you deny it, let the danger licht
Upon your charter, and your city’s freedom.
You'll ask me, why I rathe to have
A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive

r choose
’

\

Three thousand ducats : P’ll not answer that
But, say, it is my humour ;* Is it answer’d?
What if my house be troubled with a rat,

| and ducats
. 9
» you answer'd yet !

wiis

And I be pleas’d to give ten
To have it | 1? What, ar

Wulet

Some men there are, love not a gaping? pig;
Some, that are mad, if they b hold a cat;

And others, when the bag-pipe sings ’ the nosey
Cannot contain their urine; For allection,'
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood

’

Oa

Of what it likes, or |

As there is no firm reason to be renderd,
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;

Why he, a harmless necessary cat;

Why he, a swollen bag-pipe ; but of force
Must yield to such inevitable shame,

As to offend, himself being offended ;

‘

So can I give no reason, nor I will not

More than a lodg’d hate, and a certain loathing

1 bear Antonio, that I follow thus

A losing suit against him, Are you answel
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfecling man,

To excuse the current of thy cruclty.

,

9 )
dd :

‘

Shy, I am not bound to please thee with m
answer. .

Bass. Do all men kill the things they do mn
love ?

Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill

Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. ;

Shy. What, would’st thou have a serpent sun

"thee twice? oo
Ant. I pray you, think you question’
Jew:

You may as well go stand up
And bid the main flood bate !
You may as well use question with the woll,
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lam
You may as well forbid the mountain pines:
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ;

on the beach,
his usual height ;

|

b;

(2) Seeming. (3) Whereas.

ity,
) oe (5) Crying.

(4) Particular fancy,

|

ths: Now, for your answer:

with th

(6) Prejudice, '

As seek to soften that (than which what’s harder 7)

| His Jewish heart :—Therefore, I do beseech you,

|Make no more offers, use no further means,

|But, with all brief and plain conveniency,

|Let me have judgment, and the Jew his-will.

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six,

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats

' Were in six parts, and every part a ducaé,

‘I would not draw them, I would have my bond,

Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend’ring

none ?

What judgment shall I dread, doing no

wrong ?

LYou have among you many a purchas’d slave,

Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules,

You use in abject and in slavish parts,

|Because you bought them :—Shall I say to you,

Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ?

| Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds

|Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates

| Be season’d with such viands ? You will answer,

|The slaves are ours:—So do | answer you:

|The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,

‘Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it:

lIf you deny me, fie upon your law!

'There is no force in the decrees of Venice:

[ stand for judgement: answer; shall I have it ?
Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court,

Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,

‘Whom I have sent for to determine this,

Come here to-day.
Cal

OU

|
ie
S h Y .
|

|

My lord, here stays without
messen with letters from the doctor,
ew come from Padua.
| Puke. Bring us the letters; Call the messenger,
| Pass. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man?
courage yet!
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
‘re thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood,

nt. Lam a tainted wether of the flock,
Mectest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit

ar.

*
i

'
|
|

re

eC

\
N

Drops earliest to the ground, and so let meg
You cannot better be employ’d, Bassano, 7%
Phan to live still, and write mine epitaph.

| ' Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk.

| Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ?
| Ner. From both, my lord: Bellario greets your

rom that bankrupt

)

shy.

rrace, [Presents a letter.
Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so ear-
nestl vel
Shy. To cut the forfeiture f
~ there,
Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
'Thou mak’st thy knife keen: but no metal can,
t| No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness
lOf thy sharp envy.® un no prayers pierce thee ?
Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
| Gra. O, be thou damn’d, inexorable dog!
| And for thy life let justice be aeeus’d.
’ \Thou almost mak’st me waver in my faith,
e!'T'o hold opinion with Pythagoras,
I'That souls of animals infuse themselves _
ltnto the trunks of men: thy eurrish spirit
Govern’d a wolf, who, hang’d for human slaughter,
‘Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam,
ltnfus’d itself in thee ; for thy desires
|Are wolfish, bloody, starv’d, and ravenous.
Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my
- bond,

(7) Converses (8) Malice,Se eRe

ae

 

    
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
     
    
   
   
   
  
   
  
  

 

198 MERCHANT OF VENICE. “Act IV
Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud: | The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much,
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall | To mitig: ate the justice of thy plea ;
To cureless ruin 2cl stand here for law. |Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend! Must needs give sentence ’rainst the merchant
A young and learned doctor to our court :— there.
Where is he? | Shy. My i ‘ed’s upon my head! I crave the law,
Ner. He attendeth here hard by, |The penalty and forfcit of my bond,
To know j*ur answer, whether you’ll admit ‘him. | Por. Is hie not able to dischi arge the money?
Duke. With all my heart:—some three or four; Bass. Yes, hore I tender it for him in the court ;
of you, |Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
Go give him courteous conduct to this pl ice.— I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er,
Mean time, the court shall hear Bellario’s letter, | On forieil of my hands, my head, my hear
[Clerk reads.] Your: grace shall understand, | If this wil ! not suffice, it must appear
that, at the receipt of your letter, [ am very sick: That malice bears down truth. And I bereech you,
but in the instant that your messenger came, tn W rest cnce the law to your authority :
loving visitation was with me a young doctor of| TO do a great ri: Bib doa little wron ae
Rome, his name is Balthazar: I acquainted him) And curb this cruel devil of wu s will. saa
with the cause in controversy between the Jew and) Por. It n ust no t be ; there is no power in Venice
Antonio the merchant: awe turned o'er many books) Can alte a deeree ¢ stablis he a
together : he is furnish’d with my opinion; which, Twill bo rec cord d I ra py ecdent ;
better’d with his own learning (the greatness; And many an , by the same examp.s,
whereof I cannot enourh comnend,) comes with; Will rush fale then si Le ; it cannot be.
him, at my tmportunity, to sill up your rrace’s re-| Shy. A Danicl come to judgment! yea, a Da-
quest in my stead. I beseech you, let - lack of niel !
years be no impediment to let hin luck: reverent 1|}O wise young judge, how do I honour thee!
estimation ; for I never knew so young a a dyewith| Per. Ipray you, let me look upon the bond.
sooldahead. I leave him to your ZTUclous accept- Ny. Tiere ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
ance, whose trial shall better publish his commen-| Pur. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offer’d
dation, thee.
Duke. You hear the learn’d Bellario, what he S/hy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
writes : Shall ] lay perjury upon my soul?
And here, I take it, is the doctor come.— No, not for Venic
Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. A vo lawfully by this the ;. oy m: oy eats Tene
Give me your hand: came you from old Bellario ?) A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Por. 1 did, my lord. Nearest the merchant’s heart :—Be merciful ;
Duke. You are welcome: take’your place. |Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond,
Are you acquainted with the difference Shy. When it is paid eecording to the tenor.—
That holds this present question in the court ? It doth appear, you are a worthy judge ;
Por. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. You know the law, your exposition |

Whith is the merchant here, and which the Jew? |Hath been most sokad : I charge you by the law,
Duke, Antonio and old Shyloc k, both stand forth.| Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,

Por-1%s your name Shylock ? |Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear,
y. Shylock is my name. There is no power in the toncue of man
Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ;;To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
Yet in such rule, that the Venctian law | Ant. Most heart ily I do beseech the court
Cannot impugn! you, as you do proceed.— To give the judgment.
You stand within his danger,? do you not? | Per. Why then, thus it is
[Z'o Antonio. | You must prepare your bosom for his knife.
Int. Ay, so he says. | Shy. O noble judge! O excellent ycung man!
Por. Do you confess the bond ?| Por. For the intent and purpose of the law
Ant. I do. ‘Hath full relation to the penalty,
Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. |W hich here appeare a due upon the bond.
Shy. On. what compulsion must I? te il me that.) Shy. "Fis very true: O wise and upright judge!
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain’d ; |How much more e id \ r art thou than thy looks!

It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Por. Therefore, ia bare your bosom.

 

Upon the place beneath: itis twice bless’d; Shy. Ay, his breast
It blesseth him that gives, and him that te kes ; So says the bond :—Doth it not noble judge rs
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes | Nearest his he “art, those are the very words.
The throne d monarch better than his crown: | Por. It isso. Are there balance here, to welal
His sceptte shows the force of temporal power, | The flesh ? 7
The attribute to awe and majesty, Shy, ; have them ready.
Wherein doth sit. the dread and fear of kings ; Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on y
But mercy is above this sce pter’d sway, charge, 4 ROR aio
It is enthronedvin the hearts of kings, |'To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death
It is afattribute to God himself; Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond?
And earthly power doth then show like st God's, Por. It is not so ex press’d: But what of that?
When merey seasons justice. Therefore, Je W, *T were good you do so much for char ity. "
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,— Shy. I cannot find it: ’tis not in the bond.
That, in the course of ‘insti: none of us’ Por. Come merchant, » have y thing
; me, m¢ ouany thing to say?
Should see salvation: we do pray for me rey : int. But little: Lam arm d,. and well prepar’d.—
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render oe me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
irieve not that I am fallen to this ror you
(1) Oppose, (2) Reach or control. For herein fortune shows herself more kindScene }. MERCHANT OF VENICE. 1M

Than is her custom: it is still her use, /'Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.

To let the wretched man out-live his wealth, | Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew !

To view with hollow cye, and wrinkled brow, 'Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance} Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy fore
Of such a misery doth she cut me off. feiture.

Commend me to your honourable wife: Shy. Give me my principal, < .

Tell her the process of Antonio’s end, Sani. [ have it rea ot ol oe

Say, how I lovw’d you, speak me fair in death ; | Por. He hath refus’d it in the open court ;

And, whe n the talc is told, bid her be judge, He shall have merely justice, and his bond.

Whether Bassanio had not once a love. Gra. A Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel !—
1 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

Repent not you that you shall lose your frend,
- a7 a nts not that he pays your debt; Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ?
‘or if the Jew do cut but deep enough, Poy. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeituré,
I}! pay it inst intly with all my heart. — l'o be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Bass. An nO, I am married to a wile, Shy. Why then the devil give him good of it!
VW hich is as dear to me as life itself; Pll stay no Jonger question.
> aif ~ iteelf! my wife. and all the worl _ . .
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, Po Tarry, Jew;

Are not with me esteem’d above thy hile: The law hath yet another hold cn you,
J would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all ‘It is enacted in the laws of Venice,—
Here to this devil, to deliver you, ‘If it be prov’d against an alien,
Por. Your wife would give you littl: thanks for|That by dire ct, or indirect atternpts,
th it, He seek the life of any citizen,
fH The party, ’gainst the which he dota contrive,

If she were by, to hear you mak the offer.
est I love ; shall seize one half his coods; the other half

ice

Gra. I have a wife, whom I prot
1 would she were in heaven, so she could Comes to the privy coffer of the state ;
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew, And the offender’s life lies in Ge merey

: duke only, ’gainst all other voice.

Lait

Ner. ’Tis well you ofier it be hind her back;
n which predicament, I say thou stand’st:

The wish would make else an unqwuet house, I

Shy. These be the Christian husbands: Ihave a|For it appears by manifest proceeding,
daughter ; That, indirectly, and Sractle tk
Would any of the stock of Barabbas hou hast contriv’d against the very life
| tiant {Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr’d

Hed been her usband, rathicr than a Christian
| Aside. |The danger formerly by me rehears’d.

We trifle time: I prey thee pursue sentence. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.
Por. A pound of that same mere hant’s flesh is| Gra. Beg, that thou may’st have leave to hang
thine ; thyself:
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Shy. Most rightful judge ! Thou hast not left the value of a cord ;

Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his 'Therefore, thou must be hang’d atthe state’scharge.
|--Duke. That thou shalt sce the difference of our

breast ;

The law allows it. and the court awards it. spirit,

Shy. Most learned judge !'— \ sentence ; come,/? pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:

prepar is half thy wealth, it is Antonio’s ;

Por. Tarry alittle, there is som thing else.—!'Dhe other half comes to the general state,
This bond doth give thee here no jot o! blood ; {Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
The words expressly are, a p vund of flesh: | Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.
Take then thy bond, take thou thy p vund of flesh:| Shy, Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that»
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed You take my house, when you do take the prop
One drop of Christian blood, th) lands and goods |That doth sustain my house ; you take my hfe,
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate When you do take the means whereby I hive.

Por. What mercy can you render him Antonio?

Unto the state of V« nice.

Gra. O upright judge !_-Mark, Jew

ed judge

Shy. Is that the law |

Por.
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur’d,
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir’st. |The other half in use,—to render it,

Gra. O learned judge !_-Mark, Jew ;—a learned} Upon his death, unto the gentleman

judge ! That lately stole his daughter :

Shy. I take this offer then ;—pay the bond thrice, | Two things provided more,—That, for this favour,
And let the Christian go. He presently become a Christian ;

Bass. Here is the money. |The other, that he do record a gut,

Por. Soft; Here in the court, of all he dies possess’d,
The Jew shall have all justice ;—soft !—no haste ;—/Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter.
He shall have nothing but the penalty. Duke. He shall do this; or else I do recant

Gra. O Jew! anupright judge, a lcarned judge !|The pardon, that I late pronounced here.

Por. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.| Por. Art thou contented, Jew, what dost thou
Shed thou no blood: nor cut thou Icss, nor more, say ?
But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak’st more, Shy. I am content. 3
Or less, than a just pound,—be it but so much Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance, | Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
Or the division of the twentieth part ‘I a oe : as the deed after me,
Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn |And I will sign 1b : 4
But in the estimation of a hair,— | Duke, Get thee gone, but.do it.

Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God’s rake.

-—(Q learn-
Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the

court,
Thyself shalt see the act:|To quit the fine for one half of his goods ;
1 am content, so he will let me have

?

yea

aie,

Mle:

BanRa A

 

   
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
    
   
 

900 MERCHANT OF VENICE, Act V,

Gra. In ehristening thou shalt have two god-|SCENE IJ.—The same. 1 strect, Enter Portia
father. | and Nerissa.
Had I pee judge, thou should’st have had t a Por. Inquire the Jew’s house out, give him this
; deed,
To bring ‘thee to the gallows, not th [Exit Shy! on, |And let him sign it; we'll away to-night,
- YEA! And be a day before our husbands home ;
puke, pee ede adie igs win of era : This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo,
or. ec f , sarc i :
I must away this night toward Padua, | Enter Gratiano.
And it is meet, I presently set forth.

| Gra. Fairs ou are well overtaken :
Duke. I am sorry, that your leisure serves you! 5 ra. Pair sity YOU —

Viy lord Bass: :nio, upon more advice, !
| Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat

not.
i tify thi g a : ae
Antonio, ore if this gentleman ; your company at dinner.

. :
ir ch bound to him. .
For, in my m id, you. are much bi 1 Lo hit a Day. That cannot be:
[Exeunt Duke, magnificoes, and train. | This ring I do accept most thankfully
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, J and my frie nd,}4,.; Pa OGRE oer ae ;
’ And so, I pray you, tell him: Furthermore,

Have by your wisdom been this day ac yuitte d
= [ pray you, show my youth old Shyloc se,
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu where f, "Gra “Taek wall ny : id k’s house
4 4 4 | 17d, al
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, ie ‘ pas I would speak with vou
We freely cope your court ous pains withal. rll ee if] can get husb Se cing [ToP cas
Aint. And stand indebted, over and above, Whic ‘ | ai qOuree *: rie ve ot ae a 1B,
In love and service to you evermore eT sree si’ ao
y - Per. Phan nial st, | warrant: We shall have

Por. He is well paid, that is we ell ‘satisfied :
And I, delivering you, am satisfied it vie ee ee,
And therein do account myself vel paid ; But eu iT nae e tne TINZS away lo MEN j
My mind was never yet more mercenary, coe oullace them, one Orient them too.
I pray you, know me, when we meet again ; \way, make haste ; thou know’st where I will tarry.

ld eu *
Oia AWearln

I wish you well, and. so I take my leave. N CT. C ome, ‘good sir, will you show me to this
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you fur-| aiaeenes [Exeunt.
ther ; comeiainenl
Take some remembrance of us 3, as a tribute,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, Ipray you, | ACT V
~ A A v*

Not to deny me, and to pardon me

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will SCENE J.—Belmont. Avenue to Portia’s house,
yield. Enter Lorenzo and Jessica.
Give me your cloves, I’Il wear them for your sake ; = :
And, for your love, Vil take this ring from you :— Lor. The moon shines bright :—In such a night
Do not draw back’ your hand; I’ll take no more; _as this,
And you in love sh all not de ny me this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
Bass. This ring, good sir,—alas, it is a trifle ; And they did make no noise; in such a night,
I will not shame mys self to sive > you this. | Troilus, methinks, moun ted the Trojan walls,
Por. I will have nothing e ries but only t this ; 2 nd sich’d his soul toward the Grecian tents
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. | Where Cressid lay that night.
Bass There’s more depends en this, than on}, ¥¢s- In such a night,
the value. | Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew ;
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, An d saw the lion’s shadow ere himself,
And find it out by proclamation; ~ And ran dismay’d away.
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. | for, In such a night,
Por, I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: |Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
You taught me first to beg ; and how, me thinks, | Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav’d her love
You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d, {10 come again to Carthage.
Bass. Good sir, this ring was civen me by my!../¢5: In such a night,
wife ; “  “|Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs
And, when she put it on, she made me vow, | Phat dia renew old AZson.
That I should neither se il, nor give, nor lose it. Lor. In such a night,
Por. That ’scuse serves many men to save their| Did Je ssica steal from the wealthy Jew
gifts, And with an unthrilt love did run from Sis
An if your wife be not a mad woman As far as Belmont.
And know how well I have deserv’d this ; ring, Jes, And in such a night,
She would not hold out ene my Hor | er, Did young rane swear he lov’d her well ;
For giving it tome. W ell, p oie with you! St line her soul with many vows of fait h,
[Exe Ay Portia and Nerissa.|/And ne’er a true one.
“Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him ha ve the ring ; Lor. And in such a night,
Let his deservings, and my love withal L. ~~ |Did pretty Jessica, like,a little shrew,
Be valued ’” gainst your wife’s comma! ndment, Slander her love, and he forgave it he r
Bass. Go, Gratiano, run ane overt ke him, | Jes. I would out-night you, did no! body cume :
Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst, |But, hark, I hear the footing of a man,
Unto Antonio’s house :— awe make haste. eden Biot
: Ryit Grati nd: Enter otepnano,
Rene rere ap pr) thither presently | Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ?
‘ Stepr. A friend,

/

Fly toward Belmont : Come, Antonio, [Eweunt.; Ler. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray

ea you, friend ?
ellection. ‘ - my ;
Stephano is my name; and I bring word,

Stenh. SScene I. MERCHANT
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
Ler. Who comes with her?
Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return’d ?
Lor. Ue is not, nor we have
him,—
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter Launcelot.
Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, soa, sola!
Lor. Who calls?
Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, an

 

mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola!

Ler. Leave hollaing, man; here.

Laun. Sela! where? wher

Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him, there’s a post come trom ’
master, with his horn full of f d news; my mas-
ter will be here ere morning. [ exit

Lor. Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect th

coming.

And yet no matter;—Whzy should we go in?

My friend Stephano, signify, 1 | you

Within the house, your mistr sis ath

And bring your music forth into the air.—
[Eazit S

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon thi nik!

Here will we sii, and let the sounds of m

Creep in our ears; soft stiilness, and the night,

Become the tou hes of sweet i ny.

Sit, Jessica: Look, how t floor of | ven

Is thick inlaid with patines' of bricht gold ;

There’s not the smallest orb, whi hou beho!

But in his motion like an angel sings

Still quiring to the young-ey’d «

Such harmony is in immortal sou!

But, whilst this muddy vesture ol «

Doth grossl} close it in, we cannot fea —

Ent
Come, ho, and wake Diana w

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ Car,
And draw her home with mus!
Jes. lam never merry, when

Lor. The reason is, your spiri ttentive
For do but note a wild and wanton hera,
Or race of youthful and unhandled co'ts, aM
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighin

loud,

Which is the hot condition of their blood ;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze,

By the sweet power of music: lherciore, the |

Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, an
, floods ; :

Since nought so stockish, hard, and fui of rage,

But music for the time doth e * unge his nature

Tne man that hath no music in bine if,

Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet so inds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;

dull as night,

-bus:

The motions of his spirit are
And his affections d: irk a as Ere |
Let no such man be at d.—Mark the music.

(1) A small fi-t dish, used in the adminiitystion|

of the Eucharist

Tlow far that little
So shines a good deed in a naug uy world,

not heard from

)F VENICE, 204

Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance.
That light we see, is burning in my hall.
candle throws his beams !

W) e did not see the

candle.

ae : oe
/V¥ €7. hen tac Moon shone,

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less°

ubstitute shines brightly as a king,

Until a kine be by: and then his state

ts eng as doth an inland brook

in of waters. Music! hark!

your mae madam, of the house,
W ‘ithout respect ;
uch sweeter than by day.

Af .
Ver. Itis
ID nes P ‘Ls. .
ror’. INOLNING IS { rood , 1 see,
| | - ‘ hs

YVACLHINKS, 1 ounds ny

‘ . . }
\ ‘ }

“Ver. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
| Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly us the lark,
When neither is attend 1; and, I think,

The nightingale, if sh ould sing by day

When every roose is ¢ akdins x, would be heualt
No | musician than the wren.

Hi many things by season season’d are

lo their richt pi , and true perfection !—

Peace, hoa! ¢ 1 sleeps with Endymion,
And y Ly be awak’d ! | Musie ceases,

Lor. That is the voice,

ir | h doeceiy’d, of Portia.

j Li the blind man knows the

Dear lady, welcome home.
; Ve have been praying for our husbands’
Vi
\\ 1s wel . the better for our words.
Lor. Madam, they are not yet ;
But there is come a mt neer before,
I com
pP Go in, Nerissa,
’ _ that they take
, ibsent hence ;—
you, | —) , nor you,
[4 tuckel® sounds,
\ usband t hand, Lhear his trumpet;

V\ oJ 1s ir you not,

Por. This night, methinks, is but the day-light

! } } . ] ’ A day,

iv i i un Is hid,
} RB 7 , Gratiano, and their
ry
\ ld day with Antipodes,

1 would 1 lin absence of the sun,

Por. | 1a ¢ rht, but let me not be light ;
licht wife doth make a hs avy FURIE

And nev | | 10 so fo "me

But God sort all! —Youare welcome home, my lord,

RB r 4 1, madam: given welcome to
mi os
338 ner », Antonio,
'o hom ] am » infinitely bound,
P You should in all sense be- much bound to
hi 5
For. as I hear, he was much bound for you,
/int. Nom than I am well acquitted of,
| Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
Tt must appear in other ways than words,

this breathing courtesy.?
19 and Nerissa seem to talk apart,
moon, I swear, you do m@

y yonder

(2) A flourish on a trumpet.
(3) Verbal, complimentary form.

2Che

In faith, . gave it to the judge’s clerk
Would he were gelt that had it, ied my Halts
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Por, A quarrel, ho, already ? what’s the matter ?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me; whose posy was
For all the world, like cutler’s poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.
Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value ?
You swore to me, when I did give i! you,
That you would vear it till your hour of deat!
And that it should lie with you in your grave:
Though not for me, yet for your ve shement oaths,
You should have been respective,! and have kept it. |
Gave it a judge’s clerk !—but well [ know,
Thea clerk will ne’er wear hair on his face,- tha
had it.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, ifa woman live to be a mai
Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,—
A kind of boy; a litt!e scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself, the judge’s clerk ;
A prating boy, that beeg’d it as a fee ;
I could not for my heart deny it him.
Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wile’s first gift ;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And riveted so with faith uato vour flesh,
I gave my love a Bee, and n ue » him swear
Never to part with it; and here he standsy
I dare be sworn for him, he d

would not leave if,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wea
That the world masters. Now, in faith, G
You give your wife too unkind a cause
An ’twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear, I lost. the ring defending it. [ .“lside.
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring af
Unto the judge that begeg’d it, and, indee
Deserv’d it too; and then the boy, hit ae iar k,
That took some pains in wriling, he begg’d mine:
And neither man, nor master, would take aught
But the two rings. |
Por What ring gave you, my lord ?
Not that, I hope, which you recciv’d of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto af: ult, I
I would deny it; but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.
Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. |
|

|

By heaven, I will ne’er come in your bed

Until I see the ring.
Ner.

Till I again see mine.
Bass. Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, |

If you did know for whom I gave the ring,

And would conceive for what I gaye the ring,

And how unwillingly I left the ring, |

When nought would be accepted but the ring, e

You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,

Or half her worthiness that gave the ring

Or your own honour to contain the ring,

You would not then have parted with the ring,

What man is there so much unreason: ible,

If you had pleas’d to have defended it,

With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty

To urge the thing held as a cere mony

Nerissa teaches me what to believe ;

Pll die for’t, but some woman had the ring,
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul,

No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

(1) Regardful, (2) Advantage

Nor I in yours,

 

wUz MERCHANT OF VENICE.

 

iSince he
‘And that which }
i] will become as I1)

Pil not deny him an

,| And,-in the he

Act V.

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begg’d the ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffer’d him to go displeas’d away :
Even he that had held up the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ?
1 was enfore’d to send it after him ;
I was beset with shame and cour tesy ;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady ;
For, by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think, you would have begg’d
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor,
Por. Let not thet doctor e’er come near my
house:
hath got the jewel that I lov’d,
ou did swear to keep for me,
eral as you:
y thing I have,
No, not my body, nor my husband’s bed:
Know him I shall, Tam well sure of it:

Lie not a nicht from home; watch me like Argus:
Ht you don t, if] be left alone,
AT. bee | Lt7.. 3 , , ,
iow, by mine honour, which is yet my own,
Vl hay th it doctor for ‘my bedfellow.
Ner | I his clerk; therefore be well advis’d,

How you 1 do leave me to mine own protection.
Gra. Well, do you so: Jet not me take him then ;
For, £1 do, P’ll m ar the young clerk’s pen.

int, fam the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
Por. Str, grieve not you; You are welcome
I with i nding,

Bass. Portia, forgive me this enfore’d wrong ;

tring of these many friends,
wear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Por. Mark you but that!
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself :
|In each eye one :—swear by your double self,
| And there’s an oath of credit.

|\Wherein I see myself,——

Rass. Nay, but hear me:
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
I never more will break an oath with thee.

int. I once did lend my body for his wealth ;
| Which, but for him that had your husband’s ring,
[To Portia,
Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith ete
Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him this:
And bid him keep it better than the other.
“Int. Herc, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this
ring.
Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor .
Por. I had it of him pardon me, Bassanio ;

|For by this ring the doctor lay with me.

Ner. And p: irdon me, my gentle Gratiano;
‘For that same serubbe qd boy, the doctor’s clerk,
iIn lieu of this, last night did. lie with me,
Gra. Why, ‘this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What! a we cuckolds, ere we have deserved it ?
Por. Speak not so e rossly.—You are all amaz’d :
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you = ull find, that Portia was the doctor -
Nerissa ther , her clerk : Lorenzo here
Shall wines: I set forth as soon as you,
And but even now return’d: IT have not yet
Enter’d my house.—. Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you,
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon ;
There you shall, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour sud \denly :
You shall not know by what str; ange accident

’Scene I MERCHANT OF VENICE,

[ char on this letter. And charge us there upon intergatories,
An I am dumb. And we will answer all things faithfully,
Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you; Gra, Let it be so: The first intergatory,

not ? That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Gra, Were you the clerk, that is to make me Whether till the next night she had rather stay ;
cuckold ? Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to doit, But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
Unless he live until he be a man. That I were couching with the doctor’s clerk.
Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow ;; Well, while I live, P'Il fear no other thing
When I am absent, then lie with my wile. So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring.
«Int. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and [Exeunt.
living :
For here I read for certain, that my ships -——

Are safely come to road.
Por. How now, Lorenzo? Of the Merchant of Venice the style is even and
Mv clerk hath some good comforts too for you. — |oasy. with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies
Ner, Ay, and Pi give then him without @ of construction. The comic part raises laughter,
fee. — sand the serious fixes expectation. The probability

There do I give to you, and Jessica, -

oe ‘of either one or the other story cannot be main-

From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, ‘tained. The union of two actions in one event is

After his death, of all he dies possess’d ol. jin this drama eminently happy. Dryden was
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way much pleased with his own address in connectin

Of starved people. ; the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which ve.
Por. It is almost morning, believe, the critic will find excelled by this play.

And yet, | am sure, you are not satisfied

Of these events at full: Let us go in; JOHNSON,AS WOU

 

Tai

-9ERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duke, living in exile.

Frederick, brother to the Duke, and usurper of

his dominions.
Amiens, lords aitending upon the Duke in his
Jaques, ; banishment,
Le Beau, a courlicr attending wpon
Charles, his wrestler.
Oliver,
Jaques,
Orlando,

A abe , servants to Oliver,
oe

Touchstone, a clown.

Sir Oliver Mar- text, a vicar.

Corin, shepvherds
Sylvius, ae

I'rederick.

sons of sir Rowland de Bois.

 

 

A C si I

SCENE I.—An orchard, near Oliver's hous:

Enter Orlando and Adam.
Orl undo.
As I remem! yer, Adam, it was upon this fashion

bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand
crowns; and, as thou say’st, charged my brot!
on his ble sssing, to breed me wi
gins my sadness. My eh Jaques he kecps at
school, and report speaks gold niy of his profit:
for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to
speak more pro} erly , stays me here at home un-
kept: For call you that keeping fer a ceentleman
of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of a1
ox? His horses are bred bette:
they are fair with their feedine, they are tauch!
their manage, and to that oo riders dearly hired:
but I, his brother » gain nothing under him bu
erowth : for the which his eee on his dune-
hills are as much bound tohimasI. Besid
nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the some-
thing that nature gave me, his countenanee seem
to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds.
bars ang, Fie place of a brother, and, as much a:
in him lies, mines my gentility with my education.
This is it, "Ad am, that grieves me; and the spirit
of my father, which I[ think is within me, begins
to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer
endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how
to avoid it. ;

I ay
for, b tLUCS

 

Enter Oliver.
Adam. Yonder comes my master. your brother, |
Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how
he will shake me Up.

Oli. Now, sir! what make vou here?!
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing
1) What do you here ?

2) Villain is used in a double sense: by Oliver

for a worthless fellow. and by Orlando for a man|
of base extraction.

sive me thie poor allotte ‘ry my {

Ww illiam, @ country fellow, in love with Audrey
/l person representing Hy nen,

Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke.

| Celia, dau! ehter to Frederick.

|Phebe, a shepherdess,

Audrey, a country wench.

| Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; pages, foresters,
and other attendants.

|

Te Scene lies, first, near Oliver's house; afler-
| wards, partly in the usurper’s court, and partly
in lhe forest of /irden.

Oli, What mar you then, sir?
(}r! Morry sir, | a helning you t ° th;
/Jri, Wharry, sir, 1 am helping you to mar that

which God made, a poor unworthy brother of
you with idleness.

Oli, Marry, sir, be better employ’d, and be
nA  whil

Or!. Shall I keep your hoes, and eat husks with
1? What prodical portion have I spent, that I

Oli. Know you where you are, sir?

Orl, QO, sir, very well: here in your orchard.

Oh. Kn you before 1 hom, sir ?

Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me,
I know you are my eldest brother, and. in the cen-
tle condition of blood, you sho uid so know me:
he courtesy of nations allows you my better, in
hat you are the first-born; but the same tr: adition
takes not away my blood, were there twenty bro-
thers betwixt us: I} as much of my father in
me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before
me is nearer to his reverence:

Of VV} it, boy!

Orl. Come, come, eld brother, you are too
VO } Th ta)

Ok, Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?

ay sa 8

Ori. Iam no villain:? I am the youngest son of
et > — ort in p ; ] . ‘ }

r Rowland de Bo he was my father; and he
} thrice a vill un, that says, such a father becot
Villains: VWert thou not my brother, I would not
fake this hand from thy throat, till this other had
} } Aa wen fram :
pulle 1 out ny tong 1¢ LO! saying SO 5 thou hast rail-

ed on thyself,

‘dam, sweet masters, be patient; for your fa«

ther’s r egret ites be at accord,
Oli. Let me » I say.
Orl. Iv il not, till I please: you shall hear me.

My father charged you in his will to rive me rood
eaueation: you have trained me like a peasant. ob-
. " . . ’
scuring and hiding from me all ge mi ik

a I ne all gentleman.
Re ne | me eman like
qualit ve } irit ol my father erows strorg in
me, and | will no longer endure it : therefore allow
a gentleman, or

ather left me by tese

ime such exercises as m; Ly becomeScene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 205

tament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. land have by underhand means laboured to dissuade
Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is|him from it; but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee,
spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be/Charles,—it is the stubbornest young fellow of
troubled with you: you shall have some part ol France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of
your will: I pray you, leave me. levery man’s good parts, a secret and villanous
Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes contriver against me his natural brother; there-
me for my good. fore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best
Adam. 13 old dog my reward? Most true, Ijlook to’t ; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace,
have lost my teeth in your service.—God be with/or ifhe do not mightily grace himself on thee, he
my old master, he would not have spoke suc! ainst thee by poison, entrap thee by
, and neyer leave thee till

word, [Ereunt Orlando a \dam. /some treacherous device
ta’en thy life by some indirect means or

: ;

Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow !our mes he hath ta’ }
I will physic your rankness, and yet | ive thou- other: for, L assure thee, and almost with tears I
sand crowns neither.—Holla, Dennis! speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous
? his day living. I speak but brotherly of him ;
Enter Dennis. ‘ut. should I anatomize him. to thee as he 1s,
Den. Calls your worship ? mu bl ish and weep, and thou must look pale
} LLitk «WO l

Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrest’ °. here |""/, onder. ;
to speak with me ? . | Cha. Lam heartily glad I came hither to you:
Den. So-please you, he is here at the: d 1e tu-morrow, Pll give him his payment:
i eg alone again, ’ll never wrestle for

importunes access to you. ; rain, :
prize more: And so, God keep your worship ¢

Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.]—Tw' be ayr™ [Exit
good way; and to-morrow the wresull Ll: Oli. Farewt I. vood Charles. —Now will I stir
Enter Charles. his camester:2 1 hope, I shall see an end of him ;

Cha. Good morrow to your worship. for my soul, } tl know nol why, hates nothing
Oli. Good monsicur Charles! what’s the ney than he. Yet he’s gentle ;, never,school a,
news at the new court? nd yet learned ; full of noble de ice; of all sorts?
Cha. There’s no news at the court, sir, but the |enchantingly beloved ; ane, es di, so much in
old news: that is, th old duke is banished bv hi 1e in | Ot ne world, and en cially of my own
. wer brother the new duke; and three or fou ple, who best know him, that [ am altogether
a , ' ‘cprized: butit shall not beso long; this wrestler
loving lords have put themseives into V luntary (err ee +. oe te ea ee eee kindle
exile with him, whos lands and revenues enrich hall clear al ; nothing rem uns, but that I sindie
the boy thither, which now Pil go about. [xil.

the new duke ; therefore he gives them ood
to wander.
Oli. Can vou tell. if Rosalind, the duke’s Gaugh- Ente
ter, be banished wit l he r tatner f : ol =
Cha. O, no ; for the duke’s daughter, her co Cel. I pray thee, hk salind, sweet my coz, be
so loves her,—beinz ever from their crad bredjmerry. ei
xile, Ros. Dear Celia, | show more mirth than Iam

VE [I.—2 lawn before the Duke’s palace.
*nter Rosalind and Celia.

tovether,—that she would h 1 Ce’ am
or have died to stay behind her. She ts at the) ‘stress of ; and would you yet 1 were merrier :
court. and no less beloved of her uncle than his! vou could teach me to forget a banished
7 . S “
own daughter; and never two ladies jov “her. you raust not learn me how to remember
y pleasure.

they do. iy extraordinary | : ’
Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me net with the

Oli. Where will the ola duk live? ll ni, | . ‘8
Cha. They say, he is already in the forest 01 ll weieht that I love thee : if my uncle, thy ba-
Arden, and a many merry men with him; and|nished father, | 1 banished thy uncle, the duke
there they live like the 2ld Robin Hood of England: |my lather, 50 {hou hads’t been still with me, I could
they say, many voung gentlemen flock to him every |nay tau cht my love to take thy father lor mine ;
day; and fleet the lume car lessly, as they did Injso woud st thou, if the truth of thy veto me
the golden world. were so righteously temper d as mine 1s to thee.
Ok. What, you wr stle to-morrow before th Ros. Well, T will forget the condition of my es-
Ww ce? tate. to rejoice in YOurs.
m LO ny, do i sir ; and I came to acqu Lint Ba. 7 sul n Ww . my father hath no child but i.
you with a matter. I am given, SI, © cretly to}nor none! like to have 5 and, truly, when he dies,
understand, that your yours brother, Orl indo, |thou shalt b his heir: for what he hath taken
hath a disposition to come in disguis’d against mejaway from thy fath ‘r perforce, I will render thee
to try a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for myjagain in afiection ; by mine honour, I will; and
credit: and he that escapt me without some bro-i when I br alc that oath, let me turn monster: there-
Your brother is|fore, my sweet tose, my dear Rose, be merry.

would! Ros. From henéeforth I will, coz, and devise

ken limb shall acquit him w ll.
What think you of falling in

but young, and tender; and, for your love,
be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own Honour,
if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, } lo
i 9 acqual v hal: that elth

same hither to acquaint you withal; th:
{Su 1 ht stay him from iment, or brook) but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in
suit ‘djeprace well as he shall run into; in that + | enort neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou
4 : : : ' a : - , . a ale , , 1, aur . TY , Pl aont

is a thing of his own search, and altogether against) may’st In honour | ome off again. ;

| Ros. What shalfbe our sport then ?

love to me,| Cel. Let us sit and mock the sood housewife,
[/Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifis may hence-

forth be bestowed equally.

¥C 3
Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal :

his intent
+ + li

i

my will. '

‘Oli. Charles, 1 thank thee for thy :
which thou shalt find I will most kindly requtte.
had myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein,
(1) A ready assent, (2) Frolicksame fellow. | (3) Of all ranksbd ckad<o 1 aS AME.

7

 

ened

gig AS Yui. -AKE fT, et f,

Ros. 1 would, wé Gould do sa; for her benefits| Ros, As wit and forttiné will,

are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind! ‘'ouch. Or as the destinies decree, _

woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
Cel 'Tis true: for those. that she makes fair, she! Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,——.

scarce makes Nonest; and tnose, that she makes} Ros. Thou losest thy old smell,

honest, she makes very ill«favour’dly. Le Beau. You amaze? me, ladies : I would have
Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune’s office | told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the

to nature’s: fortune reigns in gifts of the world,| sight of,

not in the lineaments of nature. dios. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling,

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it

Enter Touchstone. lease vour ladyships, you may sce the end ; for the

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair Seva than is yettodo; end here, where you are, they
ture, may she not by fortune fall into the fire !—/are comu.g to perform it. '

Though nature hath given us wit to flout at for-| Cel. “ell,—the beginning, that is dead and

tune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off! buried.

the argument ? Le # «a. There comes an old man, and his

Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature ;|three

£ s,——
when fortune makes nature’s natural the cutter off) Cel. ould match this beginning with an old tale.
of nature’s wit. | Ler

uw. Three proper young men, of excellent
Cel, Pevadventure, this is not fortune’s work|growt' nd presence ;——

neither, but nature’s; who perceiving our natural) Jos Vith bills on their necks,— Be it known
wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sentjunto a nen by these presents,

this natural for our whetstone: for always the dull-| Le + -au. The eldest of the three wrestled with
ness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits:—How|Charles. the duke’s wrestler; which Charles in a
now, wit? whither wander you ? {moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs
Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your|that there is little hope of life in him: so he served

father. the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the
Cel, Were you made the messenger ? | poor old man, their father, making such pitiful

Touch. No, by mine honour ; but I was bid to/dole over them, tl
come for you. with weeping.
Ros. Where Jearned you that oath, fool ? dios. Alas!
Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his} Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that
honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his|the ladies have lost ?
honour the mustard was naught : now, Pllstandto} Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.
it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was; Touch, Thus men ma
good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. jit is the first time that
Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of|ribs was sport for ladies.
your knowledge ? | Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Ros. Ay, marry ; now unmuzzle your wisdom. | os. Butis there any else longs to see this broke
Touch. Stand ou both forth now: stroke your|music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon
chins, and swear iy your beards that I am a knave. |rib-breaking ?—Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ?
Cel, By our beards, if we had them, thou art. |. Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were :|is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they
but if you swear by that that js not, you are not/are ready to perform it,
forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by| Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now
his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he/|stay and see it. ;
had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pan-|
cakes or that mustard. | Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Cel. Pon who is’t that thou mean’st ? Charles, and attendants,

iat all the beholders take his part

y grow wiser every day
ever I heard, breaking ot

Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. : ‘

Cel. My father’s love is enough to honour him.—| ' Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be
Enough! speak no more of him. you'll be whipp’d/€Mtreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
for taxation,! one of these days. | Ros. Is yonder the man ?

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak} Le Beau, Even he, madam,
wisely, what wise men do foolishly. ~ Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks suc-

Cel. By my troth, thou say’st true: for since the cessfully. :
little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little| Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? are
foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show, Yeu crept hither to sce the wrestling ?

Here comes monsieur Le Beau. ; | a: Ay» my Hemet ‘3 pees pou give us leave.
; a7une £. Lou will take little delight in it, I can
Enter Le Beau. jtell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity ot

Ros. With his mouth full of news. ithe challenger’s youth, I would fain dissuade him,

Cel, Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed | but he will not be entreated : Speak to him, ladies :
their young. |see if you can move him.

Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm’d. Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Beau.

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more mar-| Duke F. Do so; Pll not be by.
ketable. Bon jour, monsieur Le Beau : What’s|
the news ? . | Le Beau. Monsieur the cha]

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much|Cesses call for you.
good sport. | Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty,

Cel. Of what colour ? | Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shal] | the wrestler ?
answer you? F Orl. ae fair Preaeaee 5 he is the general chal-

jtenger; 1 come but in, as others a
(1) Satire, (2) Perplex, confuse, ‘him the strength of my youth, do, to try with

Duke goes apart.
enger, the prin-Scene Lil. AS YOU LIKB IT, Uy?

Cel, Young gentieniah, your spirits are too bold|I should have given him teats ufito entreaties,
for your years: You have seen cruel eno! of this| Ere he should thus have ventur’d.
than’s strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes,| Cel. Gentle cousin,
dr knew yoursell with your judgment, the fear) Let us go thank him, and encourage him:
wf youf adventure would counsel you to a more| My father’s rough and envious dispos‘tion
éjual enterprise. We pray you, oe your own Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserv’d:

sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over|If you do keep your promises in love,

this attempt. Sut justly, as you have exceeded promise,
Ros, Do, young sir; your reputation shall not) Your mistress shall be happy.
therefore be misprized; we will make it our suit to| tos. Gentleman,
the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. {Giving him a chain from her neck.

Orl. 1 beseech you, punish me not with your] Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune -
hard thoughts: wherein I confess me much guilty,|That could give more, but that her hand lacks

to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But means.—
let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me| Shall we go, coz?
to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is bu Cel. Ay —I are you well, fair gentleman.

led, but! Orl, Can I not say, I thank you? ? My better parts
| do my} Are all thrown ee - and that which here stands
nt me ;/Is but a quint in,” 7 a mere lifeless block. {up,
|
i

one shamed that was never gracious: if ki
one dead that is willing to be so: Isha
friends no wrong, for 1 have none to lam

the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only) tos. He calls us back: My pride fell with my
in the world I fill up a place, which may be bette: i rtunes: ’
megs when l have made it empty. I'll ask him what he would :—Did you call, sir?

Jos. The little strencth that 1 have, I would it|Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
.
More than your encmies,

were with you.
Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Cel. Will you go, coz?
Ros. Fare you well.—Pray heaven, I be de- Ros. Have with you:—Fare you well.

ceived in you! ¥ [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
Cel. Your heart’s desires be with you ! Ovl. What passion hangs these weights upon
Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is my tongue?

so desirous to lie with his mother earth? [ cannot speak to her, yet she urg’d conference,
Orl. Ready, sir; but his will

modest working.

hath in it a more
ws . Re-enter Le Beau.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall. O po r Orli indo! thou art overthrown ;

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not Or Ch rles, or somcthing weaker, masters thee.
entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per-| Le Beast. Good sir, I do in frie ndship counsel you
suaded him from a first. To leave this place: Albeit, you have deserv’d

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should Hig ‘+h commendation, true applause, and love ;
not have mocked me be res but come your ways. | Y« h is now the duke’s condition,‘

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young mat it Ti salina ae aaiad all that you have done.

Cel. I would 1 were invisible, to catch the st Th ny is humorous: what he is, indeed,
fellow by the leg. [Charles and Orlando alia More suits you {o conceive, than me to speak of.

Ros. O excellent young man! Orl. [thank you, sir: and, pray you, te sl me this ;

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can) Which of the two was daughter of the duke
tell who should down. [Charles is thrown. Shout. That here was at the wrest tling ?

Duke F. No more, no more. Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by

Orl. ao I beseech your grace; Iam not yet manners ;
well breathed. ‘ " |But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:

Duke r ow dost thou, Ch ir! g7 ‘The other is dauchter to the banish’d duke,

Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. And here detain’d by her usurping uncle,

Duke F. Bear him away. [Charles is bsrne out.]|'To keep his duughter company ; whose loves
What is thy name young nan ! Are d er than the natural bond of sisters.

Orl. Orlando. my liege; the youngest son of But I ean tell you, that of late this duke
sir Rowland de Bois . : Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his rentle niece ;

Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some Gri unded upon no other argument,

man else. But that the people praise her for her virtues,
The world esteem’d thy father honourable, And pity her for her good father’s sake ;

But I did find him still mime enemy: And, on my life, his malice gainst the lady
' ; ie. ats widen mtr fret he ct : . . z

Thou should’st have better pleas’d me with this Will suddenly break forth.—sir, fare you well ;
Hereatter, in a better world than this,

deed, t

Hadst thou de scended from another house. [ shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

But fare thee well; thou art < a ant youth ; Ori. I rest rwuch bounden to you ; fare you well!
| L’ —

1 would, thou hadst told me of anot ther father [Exit Le Beau.

& p : e to a A
[Exeunt Duke Fred. train, and le Beau.|Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ;

Cel. Were I my father, coz, Pasa 11 do this? From tyr ant duke, unto a tyrant brother :— :
Orl. Lam more proud to be sir Ri wland’s son, |But heavenly Rosalind! [ Exit.
His youngest son ;—and yould not change that SCENE III.— A root n in the palace. Enter
calling,’ Celia and Rosalind.
To be adopted heir to F rederick,
Ros. My father lov’d sir Rowland as his soul, Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;—Cupid have
And all the world was of my father’s m ind : mercy !—Not a word?

Not one to throw at a dog.

Had I before known this young man his son, Re
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast

(1) Appellation. (2) Turned out of her service.

(3) The object to dart at in martial exercises. (4) Temper, disposition,Ss Seva

Aad

 

a

wie

  

208 AS YOU LIKE It. Act I.

away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come,| Cel. I did not ther éntreat to have her stay,

lame me with reasons. It was your pleasure, and your own remorse ;?
Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; when |I was too young that time to value her,

the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other| But now I know her: if she be a traitor,

mad without any. Vhy soam I; we still have sle “pt together,
Cel. But is all this for your father ? Rose at an inst int, learn’d, play’d, eat toge ther ;
Ros. No, some of it for my child’s father: O,|And wheresoe’er we went, ‘like Juno's swans,

how full of briers is this working-day wor ld! ! Still we went ponies, and inseparable,

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, th: ‘own upon| Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her

thee in holiday foole ry s if we walk not in the smoothnes ;

trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them, |Her very silence, ati her patience,

fos. | could shake them off my coat ; these burs|Speak to the Pons , and they pity her.

~

are in my heart. | thou art a foc]: she robs thee of thy name ;
Cel. Hem them a way. {And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more
Ros, I would try; if I could cry hem, and have| virtuous,

him. ° | When she is gone: thi n open not thy lips ;

Cel. Come, come, wrestic with thy affections. | t'irm and
fos. O, they take the part of a bett
than mys if.

irrevocable is my doom
er wrestler} Which I have pass Pd upon her; she is banish’d.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my

Cel. O, a good_wish upon you! you will try in| liege ;
time, in despite of a fall.—But, turning these jests|I cannot live out of her company.
out of se rvice, let us talk in good earnest: Is it pos-| Duke #. You are a fool:—Y ou, niece, provide
sible, on suc h a sudden, you should fall into so re it
strong a liking with old sir Rowla ind? youngest son? |If you out-stay the time, , upon mine honour,
Ros. The duke my father lov’ dh

qi fathe r dearly. | | And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Ce. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should| [Exeunt Duke Frederic k and lords.
love his son dearly ? By this kind of chase, I should} Cel. O my poor Rosalind ! whither wilt thou go ?
hate him, for my fath er hated his father dearly 1 wi it thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
yet I hate not Orlando. : iI c : thee, be not thou more griev’d than I am.
Ros. No, ’faith, ha e hi in n not, for my sake. | itOs, ] have more cause.
Cel. W hy should In not? doth he not deserve well?|} Cel.
Ros. Let me love him {i

 

 

Thou hast not, cousin ;
hat; and do you love!|Pr’ythee, be ch erful : ka now’st thou not, the duke’

him, because I do:—Lo ik, here comes the duke. | Hath banish’d me his daughter ?
Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Fos. That he hath not.
ee ee an gr anes 8 Cél. No? |} hath not 3 ’ Rosalind lacks then the love
Enter Duke Frederick, with lords, Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one
Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest/Shall we bi atitider d? shall we part, sweet ett
haste, No; let my father : ek a1 iother heir.
And get you from our court. Uherefore devise with me, how we may fly,

tos. Me, uncle? Whither to go, and ¥ cheet to be ar with us;

Duke F, You, cousin ;| And do not seek to take your change upon you,
Within these ten da ys if that thou be’st found l'o bear your griefs yourself, and Je “ave me out;
So near our public court as twenty mil S, |for, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Thou diest for it. joay what thou canst, I'll go alone with thee."

Ros, I do beseech your grace, | dios. Why, whither shal i we co?

Let me the knowledge of n \y fauli bearwithme: | Cel. To seek my uncle,
If with myself I hold intellix nce, Ros. Alas, what dsnger will it be to us,

Or have acquaintance with mine own desires : Viaids as we are, to travel forth so far ?

If that I do not dream, or be not frantic, beauty provoketh thieves sooner thaa gold.

(As I do trust I am no ty ) then, dear uncle, Cel. Vilp it myself in poor ant d mean attire,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn And with a ki

g : nd with a «ind of umber? smirch my face
Did I offe nd your hichness. The like do you; sos]

hall we p uss along,
Duke F. Thus do all traitors -| And

id LU LOTS ° And Neve! slir as allants
If their pure ation did consist in words, | Ros. Were it not better,
They are as innocent as erace itself:-— Because that I am more than common ti ull,
Let it suffice the e, ayn I trust thee not. (That I did suit me all points like a man?
Ros. Yet your mi: st car nnot mak >me atraitor;}A eallant curtle-axe4 up mm my thigh,
Tell me, Wheteen the like! 100d depends, A boar-sp erin my hand : and (in my he art
Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter, there’s| [je there what hidden woman’s fear there will a
enough. We] |

ll have as shing > and a martial outside ;
S many other mmanntish cowards have,
(That do outface it with their semblances,

Ros. So was I when your hi=hness took his \
? ” a
dukedc OM }

So was I, when your highness banish’d hsm ; Cea hat tall J call thee, when thou art a
Treason is not inherited, my lord man 7
Or, if we did derive it from our friends, | Ros. Pll hae no Worse a name than Jove’s own
What’s that to me? my father was no traitor: page,
Then, good my lieg ge, mistake me not so much, {And therefore loo! x you call me, Ganymede.
To think my poverty is treacherous. But what will you be eall’d? .
Dear sovercizn hear me speak, Cel. So ee r th; at hat he a reference to my state ;
Duke F. , Celia ; we stay °d hi rfor your sake,|No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Else had Ney with her father rane’d alone. | Ros. But. cousin, what if we assay'’d to steal
|The clownish fool out of your father’s court ?
(1) Inveterately, (2) Compassion,
ts} A dusky, yellow-coloured earth (4) Cutlass

; (5) Swargering,Seene J, I, ITI.

Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?

Cel. He’ll go along o’er the w ide world with me ;
Leave me alone to woo him: Let’s away,
And get our jewels and our Lieaith toget
Devise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight: Now go we in content,

her ;

To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exer
exeeeettipecnee
ACT II.

SCENE I.—The forest of Arden. Enter Duke

senior, Amiens, and other Lords, mn the dress of
Foresters.

Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in
exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woot
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference ; Us the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind ;
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and sa
This is no flattery : these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me whatI am
Sweet are the uses of adversity ;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks
Sermons in stones, and good in every thi

Ami. I would not change it Happy is you

grace,

That can translate the stubbornness of fortuns
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison
And yet it irks me, the poor cappl d fools,—
Being native burghers of this desert city,—
Should, in their own confines, with forked head
Have thei ir round haunches gor’d

1 Lord. ly leed, m lord
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ;

And, in that kind, swears vou do mor irp

Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you,

To-day, my lord of Ail ns, and myself,

Did ste al behind him, as he lay along

Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out

U pon the brook that brawls ¢ long is ¥

To the which place a poor sequester’d st

That from the hunters’ aim had ta’en hurt,

Did cone to languish; and, indeed, my |

The wretched animal heav’d forth such ans,

That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
and the big round tears

Almost to bursting ;
Cours’d one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Ji ques,
Stood on the extremest verge ol the sw ift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
Duke 8.

Did he not moralize-this spectacle?

1 Lord. O, yes, into a thouss ind similes.
First, for his wee ping in the needless stream ;
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak’st a te stament
As worldlin gs do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much : Then, bei rok alone,
Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends
t (2) Encounter,

bed ows.
Barbed arr (5) Memorial,

Sink into dejection.

AS YOU LIKE IT,

’Tis right, quoth he ;

Sut w! hat said Jaq ues /

(3) Seurvy.

209

this misery doth part
The flux of at ig Anon, a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,

And never stays to greet him ; “Ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and gr “easy citizens ;

_ is jus! tthe fashion: W herefore do you look
on that poor and broken bankrupt t ere ?

1 1us most invect tively he pierceth through
he body of the country, city, court,

Yea, and of this our life; swearing, ‘that we
\re mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,

'

To frieht the anim: als : and to kill them up,
In their assign’d and native dwelling-place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contem -
plation?
2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com-
menting
| pon the ybbing deer.
Duke S. Show me the place ;
I | to cope? h ‘im in these sullen fits,
kor then 1 he's full of matter.
2 Lord. Pll bring you to him straight. [Ezeunt.
SCENE 1II.—4 room in the palace. Enter Duke

Frederick, Lords, and attendants,
Can it be possible, that no man saw

ne villains of my court
and sufferance in this.
‘annot hear of any that did see her,
ittend ants of her chamber,
ind, in the morning early,
: be “ untreasur’d of their mistress,
lpr, the roynish® clown, at whom

‘e Was W ont to laugh, is also missing.
, the princess’ gentlewoman,

that secret tly o’erheard
hter and her cousin much commend
eraces of the wrestler,
foil the sinewy Charles ;
, wherever they are gone,

t youth is surely in their company.
Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant

hither 5
e absent, bring his brother to me,
him find him: do this suddenly:
let not search and inquisition quail*
foolish runaways.

}
sne

;

these

[Exeunt.
Enter Or-

Ln

: I1.—Before Oliver’s house.
1! Adam, meeling

lando a

Orl. Who's there ,
lam. What! my young master?—QO, my gen-
O, my sweet master, O you memory?
Of old s r Rowland ! why, what make you here?
are you virtuous ? Why do people love rou ?
herefore are you ge ntle, strong, a and valiant
Why would you be so fond® to overcome
The bony priser of the humorous duke ?
Your praise is come too sw iftly home before y
Know you not, , to some kind of men
Their graces serve the m but as enemies ?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
‘Are sanctified and holy traitors to you,
1O, ‘ie it a world is this, when what i 1S comely
| Envenoms him that bears it?
| Orl. Why, what’s the matter ?

Adam. O unhappy y
\C ome not within these doors ; within this roo

(The enemy of all your graces lives:

Int

mast

th.

(6) Inconsiderate,
2Dma geet cer es ionie

Your brother—(no, no brother ; yet the son—
Yet not the son <et will not call him son—
Of him I was about to call his father, )—

910 AS YOU LIKE IT.

   
    
  
 

Jick It,
man’s apparel, and to ery like a woman: but I nust
comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose
ought to show itself courageous to petticoat : there-

Hath heard your praises ; and this night he means|fore, courage, good Aliena.

To burn the lodging where you used to lie,
And you within it: if he fail of that, ;

He will have other means to cut you off:

I overheard him, and his practices.

This is no place,! this house is but a butchery ;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no
further.

Louch. For my part, I had rather bear with you
than bear you: yet I should bear no cross, if I di
(bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your
|purse.

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would’st thou have| fos. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

me go?

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.

i

ouch. Ay, now aml in Arden: the more fool
'f; when I was at home, I was ina better place ;
|

 

Orl, What, would’st thou have me go and beg|but travellers must be content.

my food ?
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
A thievish living on the common road ?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
¥et this I will not do, do how I ean;
I rather will subjéct me to the malice
Of'a diverted blood,? and bloody brother.

Adem. But do not so: I have five hundred

crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav’d under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown :
Take that: and He that doth the ravens feed
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the cold .
All this I give you: Let me be your servant ;
Though oc old, yet I am strong and lusty :
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ;
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility ;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: Let me go with you;
Pl do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities,
Orl. O good old v.an; how well in t}
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion ;
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun’st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry :
But come thy ways, we'll go along together ;
And ere we have thy youthful waces spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. —
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week ;
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,
Than to die well, and not my master’s debtor,

)

[Exeunt. |
Enter

SCENE IV.—The Forest of Arden.
Rosalind in boy’s clothes, Celia drest like
Shepherdess, and Touchstone.

Ros. O Jupiter! how weary

y are my spirits !
Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were
not weary, :

Ros. Y could find in my heart to disgrace my

1) Mansion, residence.
2 Blood turned from its natura] course,
3) A piece of money stamped with a cross,

1e€ appears |

|
If he for gold will] gire
“'T faint almost to death.

 

| tos. Ay, be so, good Touchstone :—Look you
|who comes here ; a young man, and an old, in
solemn talk.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Su. O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!

| Enier Corin and Silvius.
| Cor. I partly guess ;
|

for I have lov’d ere now,
Su. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess ;

Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover

| As ever sigh’d upon a midnicht pillow :

| But if thy love were ever like to mine

)(As sure I think did never man love $0, )

| How many actions most ridiculous

Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ?

| Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

| Si. O, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily :

|If thou remember’st not the slightest folly

| That ever love did make thee run into,

Thou hast not lov’d :
|Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
| Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,
| Thou hast not low’d : :
| Or if thou has not broke from company,
| Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
| Thou hast not fov’d :—O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe !
[ hvit Silvius,
| Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy

wound,
|T have by hard adventure
Touch. And I mine: J]

(in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid
him take that for coming anight* to Jane Smile :
and I remember the kissing of her batlet,* and the
}cow’s dugs that her pretty chop’d hands had milk’d -
jand I remember the wooing of a peascod instead
jot her; from whom I took two cods, and giving
1 weeping tears, Wear

her them again, said wit}
ithese for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run
linto strange capers; but as all js mortal in nature
/so is all nature in love mortal in folly, i
Ros. Thou speak’st iser, than thou art ware of.
Touch. Nay, I shaJl ne’er be ‘ware of mine own
wit, till I break my shins against it,
Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd’s passion
Is much upon my fashion.
Touch. And mine; bu
with me,
Cel. I pray you, one

found mine own.
remember, when I wag

but it grows something stale
of you question yond man,
us any food ;

Touch. Holla : you, clown!

i ona ; ;
Ros. Peace, fool; he’s not thy kinsman,
Cor, Who calls ?
Touch. Your betters, sir,

Y . ‘ ~ .
Cor. Else are they very wretched.

(4) In the night,

(5) The instrument with which washers beaf'
clothes,Scene ¥, VI, VII. AS YOU LIKE IT. Q11

Ros. Peace, I say:—|Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your
Good even to you, friend. tongues. ;

Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. “imi, Well, Vll end the song.—Sirs, cover the

Ros. I pr’ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, | while ; the duke will drink under this tree :—he
Can in this desert place buy entertainment, hath been all this day to look you.
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed: | Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him.
Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d,| He is too dispitable* for my company: I think of
And faints for succour. as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks,

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.
And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, | SONG.

My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am shepherd to another tnan,

Who doth ambilion shun, [All together here.
| ‘ . inp 9 > © :

And do not shear the fleeces that I graze ; | ind loves to live V the sun,
|

My master is of churlish disposition, Recking the Sood he eats,
And little recks! to find the way to heaven vind pleas’d with what he gets,
By doing deeds of hospitality : Come hither, come hither, come hither;

Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, Here shall he see
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, _ No enemy,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing But winter and rough weather.
That you will feed on: but what is, come see, Jaq. Vil give you a verse to this note, that I
And in my voice most welcome shall you be. made yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and} Ami. And Ill sing it.

pasture ? | Jaq. Thus it goes:
Cor, That young swain that you saw here but!
erewhile,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros. 1 pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame ;
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us, Flere shall he ste

Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this| Gross fools as he,

lace, . ,
And willingly could waste my time in it.

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold :
Go with me; if you like, upon report,
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,

And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

If it do come to pass,

That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
l stubborn will to please,

|
|
|
;
|
|
|

“In if he will come to Ami.
| Ami. What’s that ducddme ?
| Jag. Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a
icircle. Pll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, Pll rail
‘against all the first-born of Egypt.

[Exe. Imi. And Pll go seek the duke ; his banquet is

| prepar’d. [Exeunt severally.
“st “pr r r - wn on fare mieng ” ne |
SCENE V.—The same. | Enter Amiens, Jaques,| sop NE VI.—The same. Enter Orlando and
Adam.
SONG. | dam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, I
Ami. Under the greenwood tree, die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out
W ho loves to lie with me, ‘my grave. Farewell, kind master.
ind tune his merry note | Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart
Unto the sweet bird’s throat, lin thee? Live a little; comfort a little - cheer thy-
Come hither, come hither, come hither ; self a little: If this uncouth forest yield any thing
Here shall he see isavage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for
No enemy, jfood to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than
But winter and rough weather. |thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; hold

ldeath a while at the arm’s end: I will here be with
Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more. . {thee presently; and i€ I bring thee not something
Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur|ty eat, Dll sive thee leave to die: but if thou diest
Jaques. ibefore I come, thou art a mocker of my labour.
Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. I can| wel] said! thou look’st cheerly: and Vl be with
suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks) jj o¢ quickly. —Yet thou liest in the bleak air:
eggs: More, I pr’ythee, more. |Come, I will bear thee to some shelter ; and thou
Ami. My voice is ragged ;* I know, I cannot) .hajt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any
— do t desire you to please me, I do desire |tiDs in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Eve.
ag. 1 do not desire y 2AaSe y AG Do alia lla ala es ; ;
you t sing: Come, more ; another stanza; Call | SCEN a I I.— are sone. fe et
you them stanzas? Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, S.

Ami. se will, died vaqnes: they owe Duke S. I think he be transform’d into a beast ;
Jaq. aye Will. a cn ao, : |For I can no where find him like a man.
thing: Wall you sing: : . » has vite We » one hence :
ow More at mane request, than to please myself. | oe Re er i. ae ne hence ;
& o4 2 P 4 ’ : a ; : 11) re as . y; 9 golas o. ‘
Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank an) a an Duke S. If he, compact of jars,* grow musical,
thank you: but that they call compliment, 1s Lik |We shall have shortly discord in the spheres :—
Se engl = con ares pee — Shim 2 | 2° seek him; tell him, I would speak with him.
thanks me heartily, methinks ave { d
penny, and he records me the beggarly thanks. Enter Jaques.
“d. He sav labour by his own approach
rd. He saves my labour
{2} Cares. LL y ia y pp °
»

Ragged and rugged had formerly the same)

meaning. (3) Disputatious, (4) Made up of discords,»

s

Se
~

 

aC

ES SIE TET EN

  

 

 

pe

   
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
  
 
 
    
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
 
 
  
    
  
  
   

 

a te tr

B12 AS YOU LIKE IT. f “ict I.
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life|The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?
is'this, Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,
That your poor friends must woo your company? |When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ?
What! you look merrily. Or what is he of basest function,
Jaq. A fool, a fool!——I met a fool i’ the forest,|That says, his bravery? is not on my cost —
A motley fool ;—a miserable world !— (Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits
As Ido live by food, I met a fool ;— His folly to the mettle of my speech?
Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun, There then ; How, what then ? Let me see where.n
And rail’d on lady Fortune in good terms, My tongue hath wrong’d him : if it do him right,
In good set terms,—and yet a motley fool. Then he hath wrong’d himself; if he be free,
Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he, Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Call me not fool, till eden hath sent me fortune: |Unclaim’d of any man.—But who comes here ?

And then he drew a dial from his poke ;
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,

Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn.
Says, very wisely, Itis ten o'clock :

Orl. Forbear, and eat no more.
Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet,
Orl, Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv’d.
Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of?
Duke S. Art thou thus bolden’d, man, by thy
distress ;

Or else a rude despiser of good manners,

| That in civility thou seem’st so empty ?

| Orl. You touch’d my yein at first’; the thorny

Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags :

’Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine ;

And after an hour more, twill be eleven ;

“Ind so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe,

/Ind then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot,

And thereby hangs atale. When I did hear |

The motley fool thus moral on the time,

My lungs Fiera to crow like chanticleer,

That fools should be so deep-contemplative ;

And I did laugh, sans intermission, |Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show

An hour by his dial.—O noble foo} : iS, }Uf smooth civility: yet am I inland bred,?

A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear. | And know some nurture :* But forbear, I say ;
Duke S, What fool is this ? | He dies, that touches any of this fruit,

é , " ! > ‘ aft v2 iE coe a
Jaq. O worthy fool!—One that hath been al rill I and my affairs are answered,
courtier ; ;

 

point

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason
And says, if ladies be but young, and fair, iT Meir. die. J pe .
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,—| Duke S. What would you have? Your gentle-
Which is as dry as the remainder bisket . re

ness shall force
> y TRIO. nnies > “ft tres ore aces craw ? j . ’
at g VOraEe, f sabe ve e € We es cramm’d ‘More than your force move us to gentleness.
aca eames) 4 ea ? “pte: . hi Orl, I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Pe aa a oe 3 by re a fool! Duke . we down and feed, welcome to our
é é : f O a Odl,. tab e,
Duke S. Thou shalt have one Ori. ;
. shi ave oe : rl. Speak you so gently? P:
er thts ty tiny woth peer you so gently? Pardon me, I pray
; at vou weed vour hetter indoment : ; .
a an is an ed roe be r judgments (I thought that all things had been savace here :
Th an I ae te ‘ Pate ih ; In, |And therefore put I on the countenance
» S mye rty Y .

1 m WISE, must have liberty }Of stern commandment: But whate’er you ure
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, ‘That in this desert inaccessible .
To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have: ‘Under the shade of mel: selenite | }

, on a ga de 48 OS (Und shade of melancholy boughs,
And they that are most galled with my folly \Lose ai res
They most must laugh : And why, sir, must ihey so? fone 2nd neglect the creeping hours of time ;
, sie ae oe eed fo parisn . if ever been where bells have knoll’d to e .
He, that a fool doth very wiscly hit | : mito church 5

: ; [fever sat at any good man’s feast :

Doth very, foolishly, alfhough he smart. IT ene Dens ds ie pe

j A, rl, fever from your eye-lids wip’d a tear
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not Land know what 1 ve saa aatit
- : or. Ds , And Know what ‘tis to pity, and be pitied ;
The wise man’s folly is anatomiz’d !Let gentleness my strane enfar ;
4 hf : ; jet genuleness my strong enforcement be:
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.

\In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke S. rue is it that we have seen better
days :

Invest me in my motley ; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infecte rl | :
they tl net dy he intect d world, | And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church ;
If they will patiently receive my medicine, |And sat at good men’s feasts: and wip’d ‘
Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou Ofdrond that cucted vite hetheuameaaae “t
would’st do | drops that sacred pity hath engender'd :
; hg , »|And therefore sit you down in gentlenes
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good ?| and take upon command w A ern me y
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: |+ ; a eee

ee erage |That to your wanting may be ministred,
As a cae eee Ubertine, | \ Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while,
§ Sensual as the MSi SLING ILSelt | | Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils |And give it food. There is an old poor man
That thou with license of free foot hast caught, |Who after me hath many a weary step :
vn ciegarge into the general world, \Limp’d in pure love ; ‘till he be first suffie’d
aq. Why, who cries out on pride, | lees 4al aed Sialic anette ae
That can therein tax any private party ? iT a eh Pranic bit, uk evils, age and hunger,—
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, | Se, Mes ia : Go find him out
: : faery very moana : ? . a :
Wma ee er n° will nothing waste till you retum.
T : ; rr 4, F 7 Ori, t c res { 8 > ;
When that I say, The city-woman bears . — he and, bo Glee er your goes
ort! rut,
{1) ae %, was anciently dressed in a party-| (9 Finery (3) Well brought up
~ 7” .
goloured coat, ‘33 Good manners,Scene I, I. AS YOU
Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un-
happy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.
aq. All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players :
They have their exits, and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms :
And the ‘n, the whining school-boy, with his satche
And shining r morning face, cree ping r like snail
Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover ;
Sighing like furnace, wil h a woful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eve-brow: Then, a soldier
Full of strange oaths, and be arded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden’ and quick in quarrt |
Seeking the bubble re putation
Even in the cannon’s mouth: And then, the justice ;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe, and be ms of f formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern? instance S,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age
Into the lean and slipper ‘d pantaloon ;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ;
His youthful hose well cael a world too wide

‘shifts

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans evcry

Re-enter Orlando, with Adam.
Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerabl
burden,
And let him feed.
Orl. I thank you most for him.

Adam. So had you need ;
I scarce can speak to th: ink you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome, fall to: 1 will not trouble you

As yet, to question } you about your fortunes :—
Give us some music : and, good cousin, sin

Amiens sings.
SONG,
a

Blow, blow, thou winter w itd
Thou art not so unkind®
As man’s ingratitude
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

.

Heigh, ho! sing, heich, ho ! unto the green holly : |
mere | is a good life ;

Most ‘friendship is “feigning, most loving

olly :
Then, heigh, ho, the holly?
This life is most jolly.

Il.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh,

As benefits forgot :
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember’ d* not,

Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

Duke S. If that you were the good sir
land’s son,—
l
3

Trite, common.

Violent.
Remembering,

(2)
Unnatural, (4)

f
4

Row-|sheep ;

LIKE IT. 213
As pe have whisper’d faithfully, you were ;

And as mine eye doth his effigies witness

Most truly limn’d, and living in your face,—

Be truly welcome hithe x: Lam the duke,

That lov’d your father: T ‘he residue of your fortune,

Go to my cave and t ell me.—Good old man,

Thou art right welcome as thy master is:
Support him by the arm.—Give me your hand,
| And let me all your fortunes understand, (Exe,
—>——
ACT IIl. :
SCENE I.—4 room in the palace. Enter Duke

Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and attendants,

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can-
not be:

Sut were I not the better part made mercy,

should not seek an absent argument

thou present: But look to it;

»
|
|
|
|

| i

|\Ofmy revenge

\Find out thy brother, wheresoe’er he is ;

'Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.

Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands:
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth,

‘Of what we tl hink against thee.

Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this !
I never lov’d my brother in my life.
Duke F. More villain thou.—Well, push him

out of doors ;

And let my officers of such a nature

‘Make an extent® upon his house and lands:
Do this expediently,® and turn him going. [Eze,
Forest. Enter Orlando, with

a Pe eT.

Isc ENE IL.—T

x

| Orl. Hang the my verse, in witness of my love:
uj And, thou, thriee-rowned queen of night, survey

| With thy chaste eye, from thy ] yale sphere above,
| Thy huntress’ name, that my full life doth sway.
\O Rosalind! the Ss tehe dll be my books,

And in their oh irks my thoughts Pil character ;

'That every eye, which in this forest looks,
|

| Shall see thy virtuc witness’d eve ry where.

tun, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree,

iThe fi ur, he chaste, ae" une xpre ssive” she, { Exit.
|

i a ’ ° ry

Enter Corin and Touchstone.

;

| Cor. And how like you this shepherd’s life, mas-
ter Touchstone

Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it
but in re spect that it is a shepherd's
In re spect that it is solitary, I
but in respect that it is private,
Now in respect it is in the
but in respect it is not

Touch.

life, it is naught.
like it very well;
lit is a very vile life.
fields, it pleas 7 me well ;
‘in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life,
look you, it his ike humour well; but as there is no
| more plenty in it, it goes muc h against my stomach.
| Hast thou any phiioea yhy in thee, shepherd ?

| Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one
‘sickens, the worse at ease he is ; and that he that
lw ants mone y, means, and conte nt, is without three
'cood friends :—That the property of rain is to wet,
land fire to birt That good pasture makes fat
and that a great cause of the night, is lack
That he, that hath learned no wit by

lof the sun:

| (5) Seize by legal process.
(7

(6) Expeditiously..
(7) Inexpressible.mma ay co

 

214 AS YOU
nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or
comes of a very dull kindred.

Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher.—
Wast ever in court, shepherd ?

Cor. No, truly.

Touch. Then thou art damn’d.

Cor. Nay, I hope,— :

Touch. Truly, thou art damn’d; like an jll-
roasted egg, all on one side.

Cor, For not being at court? Your reason.

Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou
never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st
good manners, then thy manners must be wicked ;
and wickedness is sin, and sin isdamnation: Thou
art in a parlous state, shepherd.
Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are

  

LIKE IT. Act If,
dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted «
it is the right butter-woman’s rank to market.
Ros. Out, fool!
Louch. For a taste: ——

If a hart do lack a hind,

et him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lin’d,
So must slender Rosalind, ;
They that reap, must sheaf and bind ;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find,

 

 

 

good manners, at the court, are as ridiculous in the
country, as the behaviour of the country is most
mockable at the court. You told me, you salute}
not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that
courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were
shepherds.

Louch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance.

Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind.

This is the very false gallop of verses; Why do
you infect yourself with them ?

Ros. Peace, you dull fool ; I found them on a tree,
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Ros. Vil graff it with you, and then I shall graft
it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit

 

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and
their fells, you know, are greasy.

Touch. Why, do not your courtier’s hands |
sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as whole-
some as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow:
A better instance, I say; come.

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.

Louch. Your lips will feel them the sooner.
Shallow, again: A more sounder instance, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr’d over with the
surgery of our sheep; And would you have us kiss
tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet.

Zouch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-mceat,
in respect of a good piece of flesh: Indecd!—
Learn of the wise, and perpend: Civet is of a
baser birth than tar; the very uncleanly flux of a
cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; Ill rest.

Touch. Wilt thou rest damn’d? God help thee,
shallow man! God make incision in thee ! thou art
raw.!

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that J
eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no
man’s happiness; glad of other men’s good, con-
tent with'my harm: and the greatest of my pride
is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck,

Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to
bring the ewes and the rams togcther, and to offer
to get your living by the copulation of cattle: to
be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a she-
Jamb of a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old,
cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If}
thou be’st not damn’d for this, the devil himself!
will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how
thou should’st ’scape.

or. Here comes young master Ganymede, my|
new mistress’s brother. ;

 

 

 

Enter Rosalind, reading a paper.
Ros. From the east to western Ind,

a : m
No jewel is like Rosalind.

in the country: for you’ll be rotten ere you be half
ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar.
Touch, You have said; but whether wisely or
no, let the forest judge.
Enter Celia, reading a paper.
Ros. Peace!
Here comes my sister, reading ; stand aside,
Cel. Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled ? No;
Tongues Pll hang on every tree,
That shall civil* sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage ;
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows
’T'wizt the seuls of friend and friend
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence’ end,
Will I Rosalinda write ;
Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg’d
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg’d :
Nature presently distill’d
Helen’s cheek, but not her heart ;
Cleopatra’s majesty ;
Alalanta’s better part ;
Sad Lucretia’s modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
_ By heavenly synod was devis’d ;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches* dearest priz’d.
Heaven would that she these SUts should have
And I to live and die her slave. :
Ros. O most gentle Jupiter !—what tedious ho-
ily of love have you wearied your parishioners

: withal, and never cry’d, Have nati

Her worth, being mounted on the wind let ye, patience, good
S . ’ people !

Through all the world bears Rosalind.

All the pictures, fairest lin’d,?
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind
But the fair* of Rosalind,

Touch. Vil rhyme you so, eight years together ;

(2) Delineated.
Complexion, beauty, (4) Grave, solemn.

’?

 

£1) Unexperienced,
(3

able retreat ; though not with
with scrip and scrippage.

el. How now! back, friends ;—Shepherd, go

off a little: —Go with him, sirrah,

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honour-

bag and baggage, yet

[£xe. Cor. and Touch.
Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ?

tos. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too;

(5) Features,Scene Il. AS YOU LIKE IT. 215

for some of them had in them more feet than the|the propositions of a lover:—but take a taste of my
verses would bear. finding him, and relish it with a good observance.
Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the I found him under a tree, like a dropp’d acorn.
verses. Ros. It may well be call’d Jove’s tree, when it
Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not| drops forth such fruit.
bear themselves without the verse, and therefore} Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
stood lamely in the verse. Ros. Proceed.
Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering| Cel. There lay he, stretch’d along, like a wounded
how thy name should be hang’d and carv’d upon knight.
these trees ? Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it
Ros. 1 was seven of the nine days out of the| well becomes the ground.
wonder, before you came; for look here what I} Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr’ythee; it
found on a palm-tree: I was never so be-rhymed/curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish’d like
since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an Irish rat,!a hunter.

which I can hardly remember. Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart.
Cel. Trow you, who hath done this? Cel. I would sing my song without a burden:
Ros. Is ita man? thou bring’st me out of tune.
Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his| Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I
neck: Change you colour ? think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Ros. 1 pr’ythee, who?
Cel. O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends
to meet: but mountains may be removed with)

Enter Orlando and Jaques.
Cel. You bring me out:—Soft! comes he not
here ?
Ros. ’Tis he; slink by, and note him.
(Celia and Rosalind retire.
Jag. 1 thank you for your company ; but, good

earthquakes, and so encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it?

Cel. Is it possible

Ros. Nay, | pray thee now, with most pe tition-
ary vehemence, tell me who it is faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder- Orl. And so had I: but yet, for fashion’s sake,
ful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after|I th nk you too for your society.
that out of all w hooping ti Ja E God ve with you; let’s meet as little as we

Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, can.
though I am caparison’d like a man, I have a dou- Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers.
blet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay Jag. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing
Svthee, tell love-songs in their barks.

more is a South-sea-off discovery. I pi
Orl. 1 pray you, mar no more of my verses with

me, who is it? quickly, and speak apace: I would you
thou could’st stammer, that thou might’st pour|reading them ill-favouredly.
this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine Jaq. Rosalind is your love’s name?

comes out of a narrow-mouth’d bottle ; either too Orl. Yea, just.
much at once, or none atall. I pr’ythee, take the Jaq. I do not like her name. j
cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you,
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. when she was christen’d.
Ros. Is he of God’s making? What manner f Jag. What stature is she of?

t. or his chin worth a Orl. Just as high as my heart.

man? Is his head worth a hat, or h
beard ? Jag. You are full of pretty answers: Have you
Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and

Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man williconn’d them out of rings ! : :
be thankful: let me stay the erowth of his beard,} | Ori. Not so; but I answer you right painted
if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. cloth,® from whence you have studied your ques-
Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripp’d up the)lons. : har

heart. both in an instant Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was

wrestier’s heels, and your h . Dt 2. : i
sneak made of Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down with

1

Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; spea : !
sad brow, and true maid.? me? and we two will rail against our mistress the
ald fai tis | rid. and all our misery

Cel. Tfaith, coz, *tis he. world, and all ou y. ‘

Ros Orlando . Orl. 1 will chide no breather in the world, but
ol. myself: against whom I know most faults.

Cel. Orlando. a HOW TRG
Ros. Alas the day! what sh ill I do W ith my Jaq. [The worst fault you nave, 18 to be in love.
{ he. when thou saw’st Orl.

: . ry 1 02 nn fave = + nhs re , :

doublet and hose ?—What did he, is a fault I o not change for your best
: hs -4 ha? Ww ok’d he? Wherein) virtue am weary ol you.

him? What said he? How look’d he? Wherein virtue. Oe ae

went he 7? What makes he here? Did he ask lor a ne a2 troth, | was seeking for a fool,

) en ve -« ho? How parted he with when I found you.
me? Where remains he: tiow pat’ a ey ‘ty s
thee? and when shalt thou see him again ? Answer| Orl. He is drown d in the brook; look but in,
and you shall see him.
‘mouth| Jag. There shall I see mine own figure.

me in one word.
* this Ort. Which I take to be either a fool, or a

Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua
first: *tis a word too great lor any mouth of
age’s size: Tosay, ay, an i no, to these particulars, |Cy phe ‘
is more than to answer inacatechism. | ore se Wie

} ' that i” tne jores rood signior Love.
os. But doth he know that 1 am in the kt 12 £ : ; ; :
— in man’s apparel? Looks he as freshly as he! Orl. I am glad of your departure ; adieu, gooa
a Nie wecadie monsieur melancholy.
did the day he wrestled ! ; Xi ott ae alind come forward
Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, [ Exit Jaques.—Ce lia and Rosalind come fo é

Pll tarry no longer with you: farewell,

Sas to resolve

; ‘he gis abelais. 5) Motes.
(1) Out of all measure. (4) oo oa ri sage ae ae er
2) Speak seriously and honestly. (6) J P allusion to the mc s
< ltanestryv ‘ “ oS,
(3) How was he dressed ? tapestry hangings‘a. -)

  

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AS YOU LIKE IT. “Act III,

Ros. 1 will speak to him like a saucy lacquey,| os, There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you:
and under that habit play the knave with him.—|he taught me how to know a man in love; in which

Se ee

fa Do you hear, forester ? cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner,
Bil Orl. Very well; What would you? Orl. What were his marks ?

Bel Ros. I pray you, what is’t a’clock ? Ros. A lean cheek ; which you have not: a blue
fe Orl. You should ask me, what time o’ day; there’sj/eye, and sunken; which you have not: an un-
ihe no clock in the forest. questionable spirit ;* which you have not: a beard

: Ros. Then, there is no true lover in the forest ;/neglected ; which you have not :—but I pardon
else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour,|you for that; for, simply, your having‘ in beard is

ih would detect the lazy foot of time, as wellasaclotk./a younger brother’s revenue:—Then your hose
Fi Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had/should be ungarter’d, your bonnet unbanded, your
A not that been as proper ? sieeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every

Ros. By no means, sir; Time travels in divers|thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation.
paces with divers persons: I'll tell you who time) But you are‘no such man; you are rather point-
ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time|device® in your accoutrements; as loving yourself,

 

| gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. |than seeming the lover of any other.

P| Orl. I pr’ythee, who doth he trot withal. | Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee
Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, | believe I love.

Wh between the contract of her marriage, and the day| tos. Me believe it? you may as soon make her
Hi it is solemnized: if the interim be but a se’nnight,|/that you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is
Be time’s pace is so hard that it seems the length of|apter to do, than to confess she does: that is one
EH seven years, )of the points in the which women still give the lie
i Orl. Who ambles time withal ? jto their consciences, But, in good sooth, are you
if Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and arichihe that hangs «the verses on the trees, wherein
| man that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps ea-| Rosalind is so admired ?

a sily, because he cannot study; and the other lives} Ori. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand
i merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking! of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.

i the burden of lean and wasteful learning ; the| os. But are you so much in love as your rhymes
f other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury :| speak ?

| These time ambles withal. | Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how
| Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? imuch,

Ros. With a thief to the gallows: for though he| Ros. Love is merely a madness ; and, I tell you,
go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too|deserves as well a dark house anda w hip, as mad-
i soon there. )men do; and the reason why they are not so pu-
p Orl. Who stays it still withal ? nished and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary,
Ros. With lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep|that the whippers are in love too: Yet I profess
between term and term, and then they perceive not|curing it by counsel.
how time moves. { Orl. Did you ever cure any so?

Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? | Fos. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in|imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him
the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. | ev. ry day to woo me: At which time would I,
Orl. Are you a native of this place ? | being but a moonish® youth, grieve, be effeminate,
Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantasti-
she is kindled. ical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of
Orl. Your accent is something finer than you|smiles ; for every passion something, and for no
| could purchase in so remov’d! a dwelling. {passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for
ie | Ros, I have been told so of many: but, indeed, |the most part cattle of this colour: would now like
an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, |him, now loath him ; then entertain him, then for-
who was in his youth an in-land: man; one that|swear him; now weep for him, then spit at him ;
knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. | that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love,
I have heard him read many lectures against it ;/to a living humour of madness: which was, to for-
and I thank God, I am not a woman, to be touch’d/swear the full stream of the world, and to live in a
with so many giddy offences as he hath generally|nook merely monastic: And thus I eured him ;
tax’d their whole sex withal. and this way will I take upon me to wash your
Orl. Can you remember any of the principal jliver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there
evils, that he laid to the charge of women ? shall not be one spot of love in’t.
Ros. There were none principal; they were all| Orl. I would not be cured, youth,
like one another, as half-pence are: every one fault; os. I would cure you. if you would but call
seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to;}me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and
match it. ;} woo me, ;
Orl. I pr’ythee, recount some of them. | Orl. Now, by the faith of my love,
Ros. No; I will not cast away my physic, but|}me where it is. ‘
on those that are sick, There is a man haunts the| Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it vou: and,
forest, that abuses our young plants with carving by the way, you shall tell me where in’ the forest
Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon haw-;you live: Will you go?
thorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth,| Orl. With all my heart. rood Youth.
deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet! Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind :—Come,

I will; tell

that fancy-monger, I would give him some good|sister, will you go? [ Eweunt,
‘ counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love TO
upon him. SCENE ITI.—Enter Touchstone, and Audrey ;
; Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked ; I pray you, | Jaques ata distance, observing them,
. tell me your remedy Lin
. Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: i
ay | ouch. apace, good Audrey; I will fetch
{3} Sequestered. (2) Civilized. a .
3) A spirit averse to conversation, (4) Estate, | (5) Over-exact, (6) Variable,

= a AES ot ii a nn Fa

"heScene lV,
up your goats, Audrey: And how, Audrey? am I
the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you ?

Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what
features ?

Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as
the most capricious! poet, honest Ovid, was among
the Goths.

Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited!2 worse th:
Jove in a thatch’d house! te

Touch. When a man’s verses cannot be under
stood, nor a man’s good wit seconded with the for-
ward child, understanding, it strikes a man more
dead than a great reckoning in a little room :—
Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.

ice

-lud, I do not know what poetical is: Is it
honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing?

Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the
most feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry; and
what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers,

they do feign.

“lud, Do you wish then, that the gods had made

me poetical ?

Touch. I do, truly: for thou swear’st to me, thou
art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might hav
some hope thou didst [cign.

lud. Would you not have me honest ?

Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour’d:

for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a
sauce to sugar.
Jaq. A material fool !?

the gods make me honest !

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon
a foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean
dish.

‘lud. 1am nota slut, though I thank the god
am foul.*

Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul-
ness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But!
as it may be, I will marry thee: and to that end |
have been with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the
next village ; who hath promised to mect me in this
place of the forest, and to couple us.

Jaq. I would fain see this mecting. [ Aside,

Aud, Well, the gods give us joy !

s |

« if

’

Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a
fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we
have no temple but the wood, no embly bul
horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As
horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said,—
Many a man knows no end of his goods: right

many a man has good horns, and knows no end of

them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; ‘tis
none of his own getting.—Horns! Even so:——
Poor men alone ;——No, no; the noblest deer hath

them as huge as the rascal.® Is the single man
therefore bless¢ d? No: asa wall’d town is more
worthier than a villare, so is the forehead of a mar-
ried man more honourable than the bare brow of a
bachelor: and by how much defence is better than
no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than
to want.
Enler Sir Oliver Mar-text.

Here comes sir Oliver :—sir Oliver Mar-text, you
are well met: Will you despatch us here under this
tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ?

Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman?

Touch. 1 will not take her on gift of any man.

Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given,
riage is not lawful.

1) Lascivious. (2) Ill-lodged.
3) A fool with matter in him. (4) Homely.
33 Lean deer are called rascal deer.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

 

[ Aside, |

Le, |

[.Iside, |
- . . . ‘ , i
Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray!

or the mar-| was.

  
   
    
  
  
    
   
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
   
 
 

217

Jaq. [Discovering himsel/.] Proceed, proceed ;
I'll give her.
| Touch, Good even, good master What ye call’t
‘How do you, sir? Youare very well met: God’ild
you’ for your last company: I am very glad to see
|you:—Even a toy in hand here, sir:—Nay; pray,
be cover’d. Vee
Jaq. Will you be married, motley ?
Touch, As the ox hath his bow,® sir, the horse
s curb, and the fuleon her bells, so man hath his
desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be

hi

«yj. And will you, being a man of your breed-

, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get

to church, and haye a good priest that can tell
hat marriage is: this fellow will but join you

ther as they Join wainseot; then one of you if

will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber,

warp, warp.

Touch, 1 am not in the mind but I were better
to be married of him than of another: for he is not
like me well; and not being well married,
it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave

if Aside.
hou with me, and let me counsel thee,
sweet Audrey ;
married, or we must live in bawdry.
ood master Oliver ;

LOG!

to marry
mm wie.
Jag. Got
Toi h. Comé .
We mu { he
tarewell

Not—O sweet Oliver,

O brave Oliver,
Leave me not behi’ thee ;

But—Wind away,

Semone, I say,
I will not to wedding wi’ thee.
| Exe. Jaq. Touch, and Audrey.
Sur Oli.*Tis no matter ; ne’er a fantastical knave
of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Be.

SCENE IV.—The same. Before a Cottage.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep.

Cel. Do, I pr’ythee; but yet have the grace to
consider, that tears do not become a man,

Ros. Bult have | not cause to weep ?

Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; there-
fore weep.
Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour,
Cel. Something browner than Judas’s: marry,
his kisses are Judas’s own children. j

Ros. faith, his hair is of a good colour.

Cel. An excellent colour: your chesnut was
ever the only colour. ;
Ros, And his kissing is as full of sanetity as the

itouch of holy bread.
| Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana:
1 nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not more reli-
riously; the very ice of chastity is in them,
Ros. But why did he swear he would come this
lmorning, and comes not?
Cel, Nay certain!y, there is no truth in him,
| Ros. Do you inimnk so?
| (Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor gs
ihorse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think
him as coneave as a cover’d goblet, or a worm
ten nut.
Ros. Not true in love ?
Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not 19,
Ros, You haye heard him swear downright, he

|
}

|
|

Cel. Was.is not is: besides, the oath of a lover
is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are

6) The art of fencing. (7) God reward you
8) Yoke.
25

ws

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OI1B AS YOU

both tine confirmers of false reckonings: He at-
tends here in the forest on the duke your father.

Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much
question! with him. He asked me, of what parent-
age I was; I told him, of as good as he: so he
laugh’d, and let me go. But what talk we of
fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ?

Cel. O, that’s a brave man! he writes brave
verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths,
and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart
the heart of his lover:? as a puny tilter, that spurs
his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble
goose: but all’s brave, that youth mounts, and folly
guides ;—Who comes here!

Enter Corin.

Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired
After the shepherd that complain’d of love ;
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
Cel. Well, and what of him ?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play’d,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.
Os. O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love -—
Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say
Pll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—Another part of the Forest. Enter
Silvius and Phebe.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not,
Phebe :
Say, that you love me not; but say not so
In bitterness: The common executioner,
Whose neort the accustom’d sight of death makes
ard,
Falls not the axe upon the humble neck,
But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, at a distance.

LIKE IT. Act Lf.

Come not thou near me: and, when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ;
As, till that time, I shall not pity thee. — ‘
Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Who
might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched ? What though you have more
beauty, ‘
(As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed,)
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you, than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work :—Od’s my little life!
I think, she means to tangle my eyes too:—
No, ’faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ;
’Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.—
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than she a woman: ’Tis such fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour’d children :
’Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ;
And out of you she sees herself more proper,
Than any of her lineaments can show her.—
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love:
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,—
Sell when you can; you are not for all markets :
Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer ;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd ;—fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to
gether ;
I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.
Ros. He’s fallen in love with her foulness, and
she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as
fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, Pll
sauce her with bitter words.—Why look you so
upon me?
Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine:

 

 

Phe. I would not be thy executioner ;
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell’st me, there is murder in mine eye :
*Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes,—that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,—
Should be call’d tyrants, butchers, murderers !
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ;
And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill

thee ;

Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.
sil, O dear Phebe,
If ever (as that ever may be near,)
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,*|
Then shall you know the wounds invisible ey
That love’s keen arrows make.

Phe. But, till that time,

 

(1) Conversation. (2) Mistress. (3) Love.

Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house,

Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by :—

Will you go, sister ?—Shepherd, ply her hard :—

Come, sister: Shepherdess, look on him better,

And be not proud: though all the world could see,

None could be so abus’d in sight as he.

Come, to our flock. [Exe. Ros. Cel. and Cor.
Phe, Dear shepherd! now I find thy saw of might:

Who ever lov’d, that lov'’d not ai frst sight? ~ ’
Sil, Sweet Phebe,—
Phe. Ha! what say’st thou, Silvius ?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. —
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Su. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be :

If you do sorrow at my grief in love, '

By giving love, your sorrow and my grief

Were both extermin’d. 2
Phe. Thou hast my love ; Is not that nerghbourly?
Si. I would have you. ee
Phe. Why, that were covetousness.

Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee :

And yet it is not, that I bear thee love:

But since that thou canst talk of love so well

Thy company, which erst was irksome to me.

I will endure ; and I’ll employ thee too: .

But do not look for further recompense,

Than thine own gladness that thou art employ‘d,
Su. So holy, and so perfect is my love

And I in such a poverty of grace, ~Scene I. AS YOT
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop

To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest re aps: loose now and then

A scatter’d smile, and that Dll live upon.
> » , y ; ; ‘
Phe. Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me

ere while ?
Sil. Not very well. but I have met him of

And he hath bought the cottage, and the bou ds,
That the old carlot! once was maste! of.

Phe. Think not I love him. tho t Lask for his
*Tis but a peevish? boy '—Vel! l ts well +—.
But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases th thea
It is a pretty youth :—not very pretty :—

But, sure he’s proud ; and yet his pride becomes hin
He’ll make a proper man: The best thing in him
is his complexion; and faster than his tongue

Did make offence, his « ye did heal it up.
He is not tall; yet for his years he’s
His leg is but so so:

- and yet ’tis well:
[here was a pretts

y redness in his lip ;

A little riper and more lusty red

Than that mix’d
ference

Betwixt the constant red, and mineled damask.

There be some women, Silvius. itheyn *d

In parcels as I[ did, would hay

To fall in love with him: but, for my part.

I love him not, nor hate him not: and \

I have more cause to hate him than to lov

in his check: *twas just the

him
For what had he to do to chide at m:
He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair blac]
And, now I am remember’d, scorn’d at m
I marvel, why I answer’d n
Kut that’s all one; omittance is no « nce
lil write to him a very taunting letter.
And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius?

Sil, Phebe, with all my heart.

Phe. wi writ j if iit
The matter’s in my head, and in my hi
I will be bitter with him, and hort :

Go with me, Silvius. | Exeunt.
—
ACT IV
SCENE I.—The same. Enter Ro 1 Cr
and J ques,

Jaq. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, Iet 1 be bette
acquainted with thee.

Pos. They say, you are a melancholy fellow.

Jaq. I am so: I do love it better than lauchin

Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, ar
abominable fellows : ind betr L\ Lnen lyves to
every modern censure, worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.

Ros. Why then, ’tis good to be a post.

Jaq. 1 have neither the scholar’s 1 lanc] ly,
which is emulation; nor the musician’s, which i
fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; nor
the soldier’s, which is ambitious: nor ine | wver's,

nice * :

Ss, which 1s ;
Lis a me-

if
ii

which is politic; nor the lady’
nor the lover’s, which is all these

Dt

lancholy of mine own, compounded of many sim-
: gat

ples, extracted from many objects: and, indeed,

the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which

my often rumination wraps me, Is a most humorous
sadness. 4

Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great
reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own|
lands, to see other men’s; then, to have seen much,
(3) Trifling. |

(1) Peasant. (2) Silly,

 

  
    
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
    
 
 
   
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
  

LIKE IT. 219

and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor

hands,
Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.
Enter Orlando,

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I
had rather have a fool to make me merry, than ex-
perience to make me sad; and to travel for it too,

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind !

Jaq. Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in
blank verse. { Exit,

R l’arewell, monsieur traveller:
lisp, and wear strange suits; disable‘ all the bene«
fits of your own country ; be out of love with your

nativity, and almost chide God for making you that

countenance you are; or I will searee think —
: mick tok o le] r he op . s £

tye swam in a gondola.—Why, how now, Orlan-

)! Where have you been all this while? You a
over /—An you serve me such another trick, never
come in my sight more,

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of
my promise,

Ros. Break an hour’s promise in love? He that
livide a minute into a thousand parts, and
k but a part of the thousandth part of a minute

in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that
{ i hath clap’d him o’ the shoulder, but I war.
um heart-whole.
0 Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in
my sight; I had as lief be woo’d of a snail,
Ori. Ola snail?

kos. Ay, of a snail; for thouch he comes slowly,
his house on his head; a better jointure,
uk, than you can make a woman: Besides, he
stiny with him,

rl. What’s that?

Carries

brings his d

Kos. Why, horns; which such as you are fain

’ be beholden to your wives for: but he comes
| in his fortune, and prevents the slander of

is wife,

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind

Ros. And Iam your Rosalind.

Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath

Rosalind of a better leer® than you.
Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in
y humour, and like enough to consent:—

L holida

VV would you say to me now, an I were your
very very Rosalind ?
Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and
when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you
might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators,

t, they will spit; and for lovers
:od warn us!) matter, the cleanliest shift

when they are ou

} : i
iaCKINg (4

How if the kiss be denied?

Then she puts you to entreaty, and there
new matter.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved
ca 7

Mar

; arry, that
ire es: ori

should you, if I were your
mi hould think my honesty ranker than
my

Or, “What,

of my suit?

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of
your suit. Am not 1 your Rosalind?
' Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I

would be talking of her.
Well, in her person, I say—I will not have

,
LUS«

yu.

Vi

(4) Undervalue. (5) Complexion,See ee

es

 

 

220 , AS YOU LIKE IT. Act IV.

Orl, Then, in mine own person, I die. |stop that, ’twill fly with the smoke out at the
Ros. No, faith, die by vEney The poor world chimney. } . :
is almost six thousand years old, and in all this} Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he
time there was not any man died in his own person, |might say,—Wit, whither rvilt ? wie
videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains} os. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till
dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what) you met your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s
he could to die before; and he is one of the pat- bad,
terns of love, Leander, he would have lived many} Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had; os. Marry, tosay,—she came to seek you there.
not been for a hot midsummer night: for, good| You shall never take her without her answer, un-
outh, he went but forth to wash him in the Hel-'less you take her without her tongue. O, that
espont, and, being taken with the cramp, was;woman that cannot make her fault her husband’s
drowned; and the foolish chroniclers of that age|oecasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for
found it was—Hero of Sestos. But these are all|she will breed it like a fool.
lies; men have died from time to time, and worms; Or!. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave

have eaten them, but not for love. thee.
Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this} Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two
mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. hours,

Itos. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But) Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two
come, now I will be your Rosalind in a morejo’clock I will be with thee again.
coming-on disposition; and ask me what you will,| Jos. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;—I knew

I will grant it. i'what you would prove; my friends told me as
Orl. Then love rae, Rosalind. much, and I thought no less :—that flattering tongue
Ros, Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays,|of yours won me:—’tis but one east away, and

and all. so,—come, death.—T wo o’eclock is your hour ?
Orl, And wilt thou have me? | Orl, Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Ros, Ay, and twenty such. | tos. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so
Orl. What say’st thou ? ‘God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not
Ros, Are you not good ? dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise,
Orl. I hope so. lor come one minute behind your hour, I will think

Ros, Why then, can one desire too much of alyou the most pathetical break-promise, and the
good thing?—Come, sister, you shall be the priest,|most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her
and marry us.—Give me your hand, Orlando:—|you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the
What do you say, sister ? gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my

Orl. Pray thee, marry us. censure, and keep your promise.

 

Cel. I cannot say the words, — Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert in-
Ros. You must yegin, —— 4 ill you, Orlando,—| deed my Rosalind: So adieu.
x oy : facet . ; . , : A .
Cel. Go to: Will you, Orlando, have to wife} Ros. W cll, time is the old justice that examines
this Rosalind ? jall such offenders, and let time try: Adieu!

Orl. I will.

Evit Or .
Ros. Ay, but when? [Exit Orlando

Cel. You have simply misus’d our sex in your

Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. |Jove-prate: we must have your doublet and hose
_ Ros. Then you must say,—I take thee, Rosa-| plucked over your head, and show the world what
lind, for ae the bird hath done to her own nest.

Orl, I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. | Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that

Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; but/thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in
—I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There|love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath
a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, alan unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.

woman’s thought runs before her actions. ‘el. Or rather b ak Vent os Seht an &
Orl. So do all thoughts ; they are winged Cel. Or rather bottomless; that as fast as you
Me i ghts ; they ¢ vinged., pour alfiection in, if runs out.

ge Now tell me, how long you would have} ‘Ros, No, that same wicked bastard of Venus,
er s syn have possessed her. {that was begot of thoucht,? conceived of spleen,
rl. For ever, and a day. : }and born of madness ; that blind rascally boy, that
Ros, Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Or-|abuses every one’s eyes, because his own are out
lando; men are April when they woo, December'| let him be judge, how deep I am in love :-—II|
7? ad yred 4 maids are.May when they are|tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sicht of
ea s, but the sky changes when they are wives.|/Orlando: [ll go find a shadow, and sigh till he
will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-!|come.
pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a par-| (el, And Pl] sleep
rot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape ;|
more giddy in my desires than a monkey; I will| SCENE IJ.—4nother part of the Forest. Ent
weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain. and| aques a? le. i abt of Fee
‘p g, > Diana in the fountain, and| Jaques and Lords, in the habit of Foresters
: will do that when you are disposed to be merry 4 , ” ,
J will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer?
inclined to sleep. 1 Lord. Sir. it was I
Orl. ‘ill my Rosali 20? 5 date’ eemegaee Tet ;
R ag wih 20 Rosalind do so 7 | Jaq. Let’s present him to the duke, like a Ro-
os. By my life, she will do as I do. {man conqueror; and j
Or , ue an conqueror; and it would do well to set the
l. O, but she is wise. deer’s horns upon his head. for
Me. Vis ole de contd ” . s upon his head, for a branch of vietory ;
#tos. Ur else she could not have the wit to do|—Have you no song, forester, for this purpose?’
this: the wiser, ne ees Make the doors'} 2 Lord. Yes, sir. ee
upon a woman’s wit, and it wi { > case~ aq. Sing it: tie : ;
Pp ) ill out at the case Jaq. Sing it; tis no matter how it be in tune

ment; shut that, and ’twill out at the key-hole;/so it make noise enough.

{ Exeunt.

 

(1) Bar the doors, | (2) Melancholy,Seene ITI. AS YOU LIKE IT. 291

wn
SONG, llack, in me what strange effect
, vies Would they work in mild as
. Ww hat shall he have, that kill’d the deer ? Wiilee cae chid bg nue wpteel
2. His leather skin, and horns to wear. so? oe te
1. Th 7 How then might your prayers move ?
; en sing him home : He, that brings this lov }
“ake th oo oe i ae e, that brings this love lo thee,
Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn ; ) The: shall : : :
a ad PS hear thin bus Little knows this love in ine:
It was a crest ere thou wast born ; so Sate ate Ind bu ha 2 ;
ri , den. “Ind by him seal up thy mind ;
l. Dhy father’s father wore it; : ; }

t : Whether that thy youlh and kind?

‘ =. wdnd thy father bore it: Will the faithful offer take
All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, Of me, and all that I can make ;
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. Or else by him my love deny,
SAP wep m.. 3 ‘ “ind then PU study how to die,
S¢ EN E Lil —1 ae Forest. Enter Rosalind and ty . P ae 9
Celia Su. Call you this chiding ?

et Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

ust WO) Ros. Do you’pity him? no, he deserves no pity-
—Wilt thou love such a woman ?—~What, to make

thee an instrument, and play false strains upon
thee! not to be endured !—Well, go your way to
her, (for | see, love hath made thee a tame sna ce,)
Enter Silvjus. and say this to her :—That if she love me, I charge
her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have

her, unless thou entreat for her.—I{ you be a true

Ros. How say you now? Is it not |
o’clock? and here much Orlando!

Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled
brain, he hath ta’en his bow and arrows, and is

gone forth—to sleep: Look, who comes here.

Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ;—

My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more
l Griri ifr a letler, company. [ Exit Silvius,
I know not the contents; but, as I eu s, ps :
By the stern brow, and waspish action Enter Oliver.
Which she did use as she was writing of it, Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you
It bears an angry tenor: pardon me, know
Iam but as a guiltless messenger. Where, in the purlieus* of this forest, stands
Ros. Patience herself would startle at this lett, r, A sheepcote, fene’d about with olive-trees ?
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour
She says, Iam not fair: that I lack manners - bottom,
She calls me proud ; and, that she could not love me |The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream,
Were man as rare as phanix; Od’s my will! Left on your right hand, brings you to the place:
Her love is not the hare that | do hunt: But at this hour the house doth keep itself,
Why writes she so to me ?—Well, shy pherd, well,| There’s none within,
This is a letter of your own device, Ol. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Sid. No, I protest, I know not the centents ; Then I should know you by description ;
Phebe did write it. Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair,
Ros. Come, come, you are a tool. Of female favour, and bestows himself
And turn’d into the extremity of love. Like a ripe sister: but the woman low,
I saw her hand: she has a leathern har d, “Ind browner than her brother. Are not you
A freestone-colour’d hand; I verily did think he owner of the house I did inquire for ?
That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands: Cel. It is no boast, being ask’d, to say, we are,
She has a huswife’s hand: but that’s no matter: Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both ;
I say, she never did invent this letter ; \nd to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
This is a man’s invention, and his hand. He sends this bloody napkin ;* Are you he?
Si, Sure, it is hers. | Jtos. Lam: What must we understand by this ?
Ros. Why, "tis a boisterous and cruel style, Ol. Some of my shame; if you will know of me
A style for challenge rs; why, she defics me, What man I am, and how, and why, and where
Like Turk to Christian: woman’s gentle brain This handkerchief was stain’d.
Could not drop forth such giant rude invention, Cel, ; I pray you, tell it,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect | Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from
Than in their countenance :—Will you hear the _ ey. c
letter ? He left a promise to return again L
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; W ithin an hour ; and, pacing through the forest,
Yet heard too much of Phebe’s ecru ity. Cnew ing the food ol swe et anu bitter fancy,
Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant|Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
writes. And, mark, what object did present itself!
Art thou god to shepherd turn’d, (Read: Under an oak, whose boughs were moss’d with age,

“| And high top bald with dry antiquity,

T iden'’s heart hath burn’d ?7— : ;
That a maiden’s heart h A wretched ragged man, o’ergrown with hair,

Can a woman rail thus? Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
Si. Call you this railing? |A green and gilded snake had wreath’d itself,
Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart, Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach’d
W arr’st thou with a woman’s heart ? l he opening of his mouth : but suddenly
Did you ever hear such railing ? ‘Seeing Orlando, it ty om d teat
r . - y { : » “ 2 7 7
W hile the eye of man did woo me, | And with ind nted gli oe mA ay
That could do no vengeance’ to me.— Into a bush: under which bush’s shade
Meaning me a beast.— |A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, _
If the scorn of your bright eyne? | Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch,

. . . r ‘ . Lars + : é te:
lave power to raise such love in mine, When that the sleeping man should stir ; for ’tis

(2) Eyes. ($) Nature, (4) Environs of a forest, (5) Handkerchief,

 

  

(1) Mischief.ws

09 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act ¥.

The royal disposition of that beast, | Ros. 1 shall devise something : Put I pray you,
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead: commend my counterfeiting to him :—Wil ‘ou go
This seen, Orlando did approach the man, [Exeunt,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother. caitlin
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same alee
brother ; ACT. ¥:
And he did render? him the most unnatural,
That liv’d ’mongst men.
Oli. And well he might do so,|
For well I know he was unnatural. | — * , ; '
Ros. But, to Orlando ;—Did he leave him there,} Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience,
Food to the suck’d and hungry lioness ? \gentle Audrey.
Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos’dso:| ud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, jthe old gentleman’s saying. |
And nature, stronger than his just occasion, | Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a
Made him give battle to the lioness, imost 1 ile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling,? [here in the forest lays claim to you. :
From miserable slumber I awak’d. | Jud. Ay, 1 know who ’tis, he hath no interest in
Cel. Are you his brother ? ;me in the world: here comes the man you mean.
Ros. Was it you he reseu’d ?|
Cel. Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill
him ? |
Oli. "Twas 1; but ’tis not I: I do not shame

SCENE 1.—The same. Enter Touchstone and
Audrey.

Enter William.

ryy ’

Touch, It is meat and drink to me, to see a
clown: By my troth, we that have good wits, have

To tell you what I was, since my conversion much to answer for; we shall be flouting ; we can-
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. ‘not hold.

Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?— | Will. Good even, Audrey.

Oli. By and by.| Jud. God ye good even, William.
When from the first to last, betwixt us two, | Wi

iil, And good even to you, sir.
Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover th
head, cover thy head; nay, pr’ythee, be covered.
How old are you, friend ?

Will. Five and twenty, sir

Tears our recountments had most kindly bath’d,
As, how I came into that desert place :——

In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,

Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment,

|

Committing me unto my brother’s love ; Touch, A ripe age; Is thy name William?

Who led me instantly unto his cave, | Vill. William, sir.

There stripp’d himself, and here upon his arm | Touch. A fair name: Wastborni’the forest here ?
The lioness had torn some flesh away, | Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,| Touch. T’hank God ;—a good answer: Art rich?
And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind. |: Will, *Paith, sir, 80, 20.

Brief, 1 recover’d him; bound up his wound ; Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent

And, after some small space, being strong at heart,}¢ood:—and yet it is not; itis but soso. Art thou

He sent me hither, stranger as I am, liwise ? :

To tell this story, that you might excuse Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

His broken promise, and to give this napkin, Touch. Why, thou say’st well. I do now remem-

Dy’d in this blood, unto the shepherd youth ber a saying; Zhe fool doth think he is wise, but

That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. : ithe wise man knows himself to be a fool. "The
Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany-|heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a

sal} } : 7 3 . . ao ®
: mede ? ; [Rosalind perine erape, would open his lips when he put it into his
Oli. plan swoon when they do look onj;mouth ; meaning thereby, that grapes were made
ood, we : : ito eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?
Cel. There is more in it :—Cousin—Ganymede ! Will. I do, sir.
Oli. Look, he recovers. | Zouch. Give me your hand: Art thou learned ?

Ros. I would I were at home.! Wéill. No, sir.
Cel, We'll Jead you thither :— A | Zouch. Then learn this of me; To have, is to
I pray you, will you take him by the arm , |have: For it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink
Oh. Be of good cheer, youth:—You a man ?— being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling
You lack a man’s heart. — ’ the one doth empty the other: For all your writers
Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would'do consent, that ipse is he: 5 tee nell :
. : : “pie : : nsent, that tyse is he; now you are not ipse
think this was well counterfeited: I pray you tell! for I am he. : ?
our brother how well I counterfeited.—Heigh) Vill, Which he, sir?
o! | Touch He, sir, that : - r thie
° : , : Ouch, » Sir, that must marry this woman:
Oli. This was not et there is too great/Therefore, you clown, abandon,—which is in the
pewey in oe complexion, that it was a pas-|yulgar, leave,—the society, which in the Bah weg
sion of earnest. lis. company.—of this fernsle whisk | —
is Counterfeit I nastre vou » CO! apany; of this f male, which in the com-
S. » I assure ; mon 1s,—woman, which together is, abandon the
Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counter- society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest :
feit to be a man. a or, to thy better understanding, diest; to wit,
Ros. So I do: but, ?faith I should have been a kal thee, make thee away, translate thy life into
woman by right. death, thy liberty into bondage: [ will deal in
Cel. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you,|poison with thee, or in bastinado or in steel ; |
draw homewards :—Good sir, go with us. will bandy with thee in faction: I will o” ;
Oli, That will L. forl r PY il bandy with thee in faction ; I will o’er run thee
t. at will 1, fori must bear answer back)with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. iways; therefore tremble, and depart, ‘
‘ | ud. Do, good William.
(1) Describe, (2) Scuffle. | Jul, God rest you merry, sir,

[EviteScene II. AS YOU LIKE IT, 229
Enter Corin. years old, conversed with a magician, most pro-
found in this art, and yet not damnable. If you
: vl do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture
away, aw "t . , cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall
Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey ;—I attenc,' vou marry her: I know intu what strzits of fortune
I attend. [Exeunt, | she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me, if 1
SCENE II.—The same. Enter Orlando and|*PPear not inconvenient to you, to set her before
Oliver. your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without
any danger.
Ori. Is’t possible, that on so little acquaintance} rl, Speakest thou in sober meanings ?
you should like her? that, but seeing, youshould! Pos. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly,
ove her? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she though I say lam a magician: Therefore, put you
should grant? and will you perséver to enjoy her?/in your best array, bid' your friends; for if you
Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question,! will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to
the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sud-/ Rosalind, if you will.
den wooing, nor her sudden consenting ; but say er =
with me, [ love Aliena ; say with her, that she Enter Silvius and Phebe.
loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy|
each other: it shall be to your good; for my fa-|

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come,

Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of

a hers
ther’s house, and all the revenue that was old sir| a
R 1, q ill een oe ou. and here live| 7 ¢- Youth, you have done me much ungentle-
owland's, ve on upon you, and here live) ness
> a shepherd. ae
and die a shepher« l'o show the letter that I writ to you.
Enter Rosalind. | Ros. I care not, if I have: it is my study,

; . | lo seem despiteful and ungentle to you:
Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding| You are there follow’d by a faithful shepherd ;
be to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke, and| [ook upon him, love him; he worships you.

all his contented followers: Go you, and prepare | Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis te
Aliena ; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. | love. , :
Ros, God save you, brother. | Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ;—
Oli. And you, fair sister. And so am I for Phebe. :
Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to} Phe, And I for Ganymede.
see thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! | Orl. And I for Rosalind.
Ort. It is my arm. | Ros. And I for no woman.

Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with] Sil, It is to be all made of faith and service ;—~
the claws of a lion, |And so am I for Phebe.

Ort. Wounded it is, but with the eyes ofa lady. | Phe, And I for Ganymede.

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter-| Ori. And I for Rosalind.

feited to swoon, when he showed me your hand-| Ros, And I for no woman.

kerchief ? | Sil. It is to be all made of phantasy,
Ori. Ay, and greater wonders than that. |All made of passion, and all made of wishes ;
Ros. O, I know where you are :—Nay, ’tis true: |All adoration, duty and observance,
there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight| All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
of two rams, and Cwsar’s thrasonical brag of—!| }] purity, all trial, all observance ;—

I came, saw, and overcame: For your brother and| And so am I for Phebe.

my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no} Phe, And so am I for Ganymede.

sooner looked, but they loved > no sooner loved, but! Orl. And so am I for Rosalind.

they sighed ; no sooner sighed, but they asked one] Ros, And so am I for no woman.

another the reason; no sooner knew the reason,| Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?

but they sought the remedy; and in these degrt es! [7'o Rosalind.
have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which| Sil, If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent! [To Phebe.

before marriage: they are in the very wrath of} Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
love, and they will together ; clubs cannot part] Ros. Who do you speak to, Why blame vou me
them. ilo love you ?

Ort. They shall be married to-morrow; and I} Orl. To her, that is not here, nor doth not hear.
will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bit-| Ros. Pray you, no more of this; ‘tis like the
ter a thing it is to look into happiness through an-|howling of Irish wolves against the moon.—I will
other man’s eyes! By so much the more shall I to-jhelp you, [To Silvius.] if I can:—I would love
morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how| you, [To Phebe. ] if I could.—To-morrow meet me
much I shall think my brother happy, in having|a}l torether.—I will marry you, [To Phebe.] if ever

what he wishes for. \I marry woman, and I’ll be married to-morrow :—
Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your|| will satisfy you, [7 Orlando.] if ever I satisfied
turn for Rosalind ? iman, and you shall be married to-morrow :—I
Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. iwill content you, [To Silvius.] if what pleases

Ros. 1 will weary you no longer then with idle|you contents you, and you shall be married to-
talking. Know of me then (for now I speak to! morrow.—As you [To Orlando. ] love Rosalind,
some purpose,) that I know you are a gentleman|meet ;—as you [To Silvius. } love | meet ;
of good conceit: I speak not this, that you should) And as I love no woman, I’Il meet.—So, fare you
bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, | well; I have left you commands,

I say, I know you are; neither dol labour fora| Sil. P'll not fail, if I live.

reater esteem than may in some little measure| Phe. Nor I.

, een a belief from you, to do yourself good, and} Or, Norl, [Ere
not to grace me. Believe then, if you — |

I can do strange things: I have, since I was three (1) Invite,PS ed eee en

    
  
    
 
 
  
 

994 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act V.

hs ; t d| Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I
SCENE IlI.—Thesame. Ente Touchstone an ing a ’ [To an

Audrey. : :
. . : | Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
Touch. et a bya soy fit day, Audrey ‘| Ros. You say, youll marry me, if I be willing ?
w will we be married.
aud | do desire it with all my heart: and I Phe. That will I, should I die the axe’:
hope it 1s no dishonest desire, to desina ” f rn “| Ros. But, if you do refuse to marry me,
woman of the world. Here comes two ob the) y) 9) give yourself to this most faithful shepherd ?

 

banished duke’s pages.

   
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 

 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o’er the green corn-field did pass
Inthe spring time, the only pretly rank time,

Sweet lovers love the spring.

Enter two Pages. |

}
i

1 Page. Well met, honest gentleman. ah

. Touch. By my troth, well met: Come, sit, sit,|
| and a song. is
i 2 Page. We are for you: sit i? the middle.
’ 1 Page. Shall we clap into’t roundly, without!
i hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse ; |
| which are the only prologues toabad voice? — |
i 2 Page. Vfaith, i’faith ; and both in a tune, like
two gypsies on a horse.

il

i SONG.

| I. |
1 It was a lover, and his lass,

|
|
|
|

Phe. So isthe bargain. °
Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she
will ? [Zo Silvius.
Sil. Though to have her and death were both
one thing.
Ros. I have promis’d to make all this matter
even.
Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daugh-
ter ;—
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter :-—
Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me ;
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd :—
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her,
If she refuse me :—and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.
[Exeunt Ros. and Cel.
Duke S. Ido remember in this shepherd-boy
Some lively touches of my daughter’s favour.
Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him,
Methought he was a brother to your daughter :

‘But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born ;

   
   

| When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ;
;

Il. ‘And hath been tutor’d in the rudiments
‘Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
|'Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the cirele of this forest,

Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  

a i In spring time, &c.
re III.
This carol they began that hour,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that a life was but a flower

In spring time, &c.

ty

And therefore take the present time,

These pretty country folks would lie, |
, Enter Touchstone and Audrey,

|

Jag. There is, sure, another flood toward, and
‘these couples are coming to the ark! Here comes
ia pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues
‘are called fools.
| Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all!
| Jag. Good my lord, bid him welcome; This is
ithe motley-minded gentleman, that I have so often
jmet in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he

  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
  
   

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; tl ae
© . i Cr Se

For love is crowned with the prime, hear . ;
vee ' | Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me
In spring time, Sc. : , P

to my purgation. Ihave trod a measure ;? I have
Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there/flattered a lady; I have been politic with my
was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone
very untunable. three tailors ; I have had four quarrels, and like to
1 Page. Youare deceived, sir ; we kept time, we|have fought one.
lost not our time. Jag. And how was that ta’en up?
Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time| Zouch. ’Faith, we met, and found the quarrel
lost to hear such a foolish sone. God be with you ;| was upon the seventh cause.
and God mend your voices!—Come, Audrey. | Jaq. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like
[Exeunt,|this fellow.
: . Duke S. I like him very well.
SCENE IV.—Another part of the Forest, patter Touch. God ’ild you, sir; I desire you of the
a? Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver, like. I press In. here, sir, amongst the rest of the
icountry copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; ac-
Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy|cording as marriage binds, and blood breaks ia
Can do all this that he hath promised ?  |poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine
Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do|own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that

not ; ino man else will: Rich honesty dwells like a miser
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.|sir, ina poor house; as your pearl, in your foul

: sy 8 |oyster.

. = r > > > + . °

Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe. ; | Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen-
Ros, Patience once more, whiles our compact is|tentious.

 

urg’d: | Touch. According to the fool’s bolt, sir, and
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, [To the Duke.|such dulcet diseases. re
You will bestow her on Orlando here ? wks But, for the seventh cause; how did you
Duke 8. That would I, had I kingdoms to give/find the quarrel on the seventh cause ?
with her. | Touch, Upon a lie seven times removed ;—Bear
(1) A married woman, (2) A stately solemn dance,Scene IV’. AS YOU LIKE IT. 22h

vour body more seeming,' Audrey :—as thus,
did dislike the cut of a certain courtier’s b:
he sent me word, if I said his beard was not

well, he was in the mindit was: This is cal]
retort courteous. If I sent him word avain.
not well cut, he would send me word, he cut

;

please himself: This is called th quip

again, it was not well cut, he disabled my-
ment: This is called the reply cha . fea
it was not well cut, he would answer, |
true: This is called the reprooy v : ul. if
it was not well cut, he would oy imi Ff
called the countercheck quarrels e: and
lie circumstantial, and t! :

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his!

well cut?

Touch, I durst go no furthe
stantial, nor he durst not give
s0 we measured swords,

Jaq. Can you nominat

of the lie f
Touch. ), sir, we "| | j
as you have books for . J
you the degrees. 7
the second, the «
churlish;: the fou
the counterchec!
with circumsta:

these you !

may avoid | '
justices «
parties wer

ul ¢ I

inevy shook

the -

Jaq. Is not .

good at any thir
Duke S. H

and under the

Enter Hymen, / R

al —
ciolies ; a i {

Hym. Then ts the
When eart

Go é,

W hose heart 1
Ros. To youl give mysell, for I

To voul give myself, for]
Duke D>. If there i Lrul
daughter.
Orl. If there be truth in sicht, you
lind.
Phe. If sight and shape |
Why then,—my love lieu !
Ros. I'll have no father, ul you I

I'll have no husband, if)
Nor ne’er wed woman, if ¥ 1 be not

Hym. Peace, ho! I bare
es Tis | must make conclusion
Of these most strange event
Here’s eight that must take hands,
To join in Hymen’s bands,
If truth holds true contents,?

(1) Seemly, (2) Unless truth fails of veracil vy,

You and you no cross shall part:
{7'o Orlando and Rosalind,
ou and you are heart in heart:
| To Oliver and Celia.
You [ToPhebe.] to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord:—
You and you are sure together,
[7'o Touchstone and Audrey.
\s the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,

4
i

Feed yourselves with questioning ;
‘That reason wonder may diminish,
H thus we met, and these things finish.

SONG,

Hy ‘eat Juno’s crown;
Ol hond of board and bed !
I] les every town ;
then be honoured :
T} : honour and renown,
j lof every town!
velcome thou arttome,
no less degree.
l, now thou artmine ;
th combine.?
| Zo Silvius.
> Be ide
lience for a word of
PD ela nil
fuir asse mbly —
that every day
his forest, —
1 were on foot,
ivy to take
mn to the sword:
| wood he came ;
L religious man,
s converted
nd from the world:
to his banish’d brother,
’d to them again
ad: This to be true,
Welcome, young man;
brothers’ wedding:
ld; and to the other,
tent dukedom.
us do those ¢ nds
un, and well begot ;
ft] lappy number,
d days and nights with us,
of our returned fortune,
ol their states.
. new-fall’n dignity,
rustic revelry :—

4 ic ;—and you brides and bridegrooms all,
1m ire heap’d in joy, to the measures fall.
£ y your patience ; If | heard you nghtly,
th put on a religious life,
thrown into neglect the pompous court ?
B. He hath.
». Tohim will l: out of these convertites
re is much matter to be heard and learn’d.—
o your { r honour I bequeath ;

[To Duke 8.

‘our patience, and your virtue, well deserves it :—
ou [To Orlando.] to a love, that your true faith

doth merit :—

$) Bind,
o "

“erAS YOU

You [7 Oliver.} to your land, and love, and great
allies :—
You [To Silvius.] to a long and well-deserved
bed :—
‘nd you [To Touchstone.] to wrangling; for thy
loving voyage
1s but for two months victuall’c :—So to your plea-
sures ;
I am for other than for dancing measures.
uke S. Stay, Jaques, stay.
Jaq. 'To see no pastime, T cootiben you would
h eT stay to know at your a. andon’d cave.
[Evxit.
Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these

rites,
And we do trust they’ll end in true delights.
[.4 dance.

EPILOGUE.

Ros. It is not the fashion to see tne lady the epi-
Jogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see
the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine
neods no bush, ’tis true, that a good play needs no
enilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good
Yusiies; and good plays prove the better by the
help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then,
tiat am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insi-
nuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am
not furnished! like a beggar, therefore to beg will

(1) Dressed. (2) That I liked. ‘

 

 

LIKE IT. “ict F,

not become me; my way is; to conjure yon ; and
I'll begin withthe women. I charge you, O women,
for the love you bear to men, to like as much ef
this play as please them: and so I charge you, O
men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive
by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that
between you and the women, the play may please.
If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you
as had beards that pleased me, complexions that
liked me,? and breaths that I defied not; and, lam
sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces,
or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I
make curt’sy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt.

—>—

Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I
know not how the ladies will approve the facility
with which both Rosalind and Celia give away
their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven, for
the heroism of her friendship. The character of
Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comic
dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low
buffoonery than in some other plays; and the graver
part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to
the end of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the
dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and
lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson, in
which he might have found matter worthy of his

highest powers,
JOHNSON,a

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2 LLM hE LSE BE BE DED
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
Act I].—wNcene 3.

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TAMING THE SHREW.
Act 1V.—Scene 1.on

ALU’S WELL TH.

Cm =
PERSONS RI
King of France
Duke of Fl rence
Lb ram, Count of Ro
Lafeu, an old Lord
Parolles, a follower of Bert ;
several 1 w hye h Lords, that se ts Der-
tram m lhe Florentine 1
oleward, ) oe gs . : op... ,
Clown, g ser ils te é Countess of Rou
A Pave.
mare. ce
SCENE [I.—Rousillon. .2 R the Coun-
tess’s Palace. Enter Bertram, the Co $s ol
Rousillon, Helena, ant Lafeu, in
("9 if
Ina livecring my son { me, I bury a second
hus yan,

Ber. And I, in , madam, weep o my
fath r’s di ith ecw rut | must tlend fus 1 ia
ty’s command, to whom | am now in wv » CrYer-
more ini subj cuon.

Laf. You shall find of the king a hus! 1, ma-
dam ;—you, sir, a fa I H Lh SO raily is
at all times good, must of necessit | his virtue
to you whos : ici i » :
it wanted, rat} niack it ¥ ‘ i
abundance.

Count. What hope is t of his 1 ty’
amendment ?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam
under whose practices he hath per ; lim
with hope ; 1 finds no of val e int
process but only the | ot by time.

Count. This youn | mad {2
(O, that had !* how sad a ‘tus !) whose s!
VN alm s . regt s his hone \ iad } atretch
ed so far, would have ma Te tal, a
death should has for} rk. ’Would,
for the kine’ Wwe living! I think,
would be the death of the kin

Laf, How called you the man you s k of,
macdam i

Count. Ele was famous, sir, in his profession, and
it was his great right to be Ger de Narl

Laf,

i} i ’ ° } ¥é
He was excellent, indeed, m idam: th kal

;
ver} lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourn-
ingly : he was skilful enough to have lived ill, al
knowledge could be set up against mortalt

Ber. What is it, niy wood lord, the king lan-
grils hes of 7

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

(1) Under his particular care, as my guardian.

(2) The countess recollects her own loss ol
husband, and observes how heavily had passe

through her mind. a
(3) Qualities of good bre ding and erudition.

»PRESENTED.

—

AT ENDS WELL.

 
 
  
  
 
   
  
 
   
    
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
  

~

intess of Rousillon, mother lo Bertram.

Llelena, a gentlewoman protected by the Countess
/in old HVidow of Florence.

1); ! a iviler lo tle widow.

Violent bean neichboos and fri nd i t} : nid .

Marian so ee f iad Jrvends to the widow,

allending on the King; Officers, Soldiers
&c. French and Florentine,

’

}
4

lyin France, and partly in Tuscany.

I heard not of it before.
Laf. | would, it were not notorious. —Was this
entlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His sole « uld, my lord ; and bequeathed
LO nl \ Ovi rlookinge. l have those hopes of her
|, that her education promises: her dispositions

il
+}

she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer ; for where
n unclean mind carries virtuous qualities,? there
commendations go with pily, they are virtues and
yrs too: in her they are the better for their
simplen she derives her honesty, and achieves
her goodness
Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from
er ti )
Count. ’Tis the best brine a maiden can season
r praise in The remembrance of her father
ney ches her heart, but the tyranny of her
ws takes all livelihood® from her check. No
{ this, Helena, go to, no more: lets it be
i! } t YOu chiect & sorrow, than to have,
fret. I do aflect rrow, indeed, but I have it

NIodcrate lamentation is the right of the
‘enemy to the living.
If the living be enemy to the grief, the

{ I ; th SOOT Init rtal,

j Miadant, I desire your holy wishes.

Laf Ho under tuand we that?

Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed

i f ther

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue,
Contend for empire inthee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend

Lnder thy own life’s key: be check’d for silence,

But never tax’d for speech. What heavenmore will,

hat thee may furnish,® and my prayers pluck
down,

Fall on thy head! Farewell.—My lord,

Tis an unseason’d courtier ; good my lord,

A doles’

isc Tuih.

Ile cannot want the best

. &. Ller excellencies are the better because

they are artles
(5) Allappearance of life.
(G6) 1. e. That may help thee with more and bet

er qualilations,bein ie desea

capeienenasmtinisi.. — aaaaniaania

eect enineeneneeen

 

28 ALL’S WELL

That shall attend his jove.

Count, Heaven bless him !—}aresvell, Bertram.
[Eavit Countess,

Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in you

thoughts, [Zo Helena.] be servants to you!!’ Be
comfortable te my mother, your mistress, and make

much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the

credit of your father.  [Exe. Bertram and Lafeu
Hel, O, were that all !—I think not on my father

Than those I shed for him. What was he like ?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram’s.
I am undone ; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. ’Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart’s table ;2 heart, too capable
Of every line and trick? of his sweet favour :4
But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter Parolles.
One that goes with him: I love him for his sake .
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ;
Yet these fix’d evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue’s steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind ; withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.
el. And you, monarch.

Par. No.

Hel, And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity ?

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you
Jet me ask you a question: Man is enemy to vir-
ginity ; how may we barricado it against him: ?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails ; and our virginity, though

3

some warlike resistance,
Par. There is none; man, sitting down |
vou, will undermine you, and blow you up.
fel, Bless our poor virginity from underminers
and blowers up !—Is there no military policy, how|
virgins might blow up men?
; rh we * |
Par. Virginity, being blown down,

|
|

man will

quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowine him!
down again, with the breach yourselves made, you||

lose your city. It is not politic in the common- |
wealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of
virginity is rational increase ; and there was ne ver|

virgin got, till virginity was first lost. 1 hat, you
were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity. |
by being once lost, may be ten times found: by|

being ever kept, it is ever lost :
panion; away with it.

Hel. I will stand for’t a lit
I die a virgin.

tis too cold acom-|

tle, though thefe nhl

(1) 4.e. May you be mistress of your wishes, |
and have power to bring them to effect.

(2) Helena considers her heart
which his resemblance was portrayed, |

(3) Peculiarity of feature, (4) Countenance,

;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more

i

Wh
valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us} Whose baser st
{Might with effects of then
before |

| Returns us thanks.

charitable star

must needs.be born under Mars

must only think.

  
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
    
    
  
 
 
   
  

THAT ENDS WELL. Aes I.

   
   
   

Par, There’s little can be said in’t ; ’tis against
the rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir-
ginify, is to accuse your mothers: which is most
infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is
a Virgin: virginity murders itself; and should be
buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as
a desperate offendress against nature. Y irginity
breeds mites, much like a cheese ; consumes itself
to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own
stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle,
made of self-love, which is the most inhibited® sin
in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but
lose by’t; Out with’t: within ten years it will make
itself ten, which is a goodly increase ; and the prin-
cipal itself not much the worse: Away with’t.

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her owr
‘liking ?

Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that
ne’er it likes. ’Tis a commodity will lése the gloss
with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off
with’t, while ’tis vendible: answer the time of re-
quest. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her
cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable :
just like the brooch and toothpick, which wear not
now: Your date is better in your pie and your
porridge, than in your cheek: And your virginity,
your old virginity, is like one of our French wither-
ed pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, ’lis a
withered pear; it was formerly better ; marry, yet
*tis a withered pear: Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity vet.

There shall your master have a thousand loves
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,

A phoenix, captain, and an enc my,

A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,

|A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear -

|His humble ambition, proud humility,

| His jarring concord, and his discord dulce .

| His faith, his sweet disaste r; witha world

r

.

>

 

 

Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,

That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he—
I know not what he shall :—God send him well!
The court’s a arning-place ;

—and he is one——

;| Par. What one, ifaith ?
|

Hel. That I wish well.— Tis pity—
Hel. That wishing well had not a body in’t,
ich might be felt: that we, the poorer born,
ars do shut us up in wishes,
1 follow our friends,
alone must think -” whie _—
a.one must think ;* which never

Par, What?s pity ?
|

And show what we

Enter a Page.

Page. Monsicur } aroiles, my lord ealls for you.
[Exit Page.
Par. Little Helen, farewe ll: iff ean rem mber
thee, I will think of thee at court.
}

Hel. Monsicur Parolles, you were born under a
Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel, 1 « specially think, under Mars,

Par. Why under Mars ?

Hel. The wars have

so kept you under, that you
ise
Par. When he was predominant.
Fiel. When he was retrograd » I think, rather.
. . = ; P
Par. Why think you so?

(5) Forbidden.

. . .
(6) A quibble on date, which means age, and

, as the tablet on|candied fruit, ”

(7) t. e, And show by realities what we nowScene Il, I. ALL’S WELL

Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight.

Par. That’s for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the
salety: But the composit fon, that vour Valour and
fear makes in .you, is a virtue of a good wing, and

I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot a e}
thee acutely: I will return p t cou 1 th
which, my instruction shall serve to nat liz er.
so thou wilt be capable! of a c counsel,
and understand what acdvic hall thrust upon thet
aioe thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thin
ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When thor
hast leisure, say thy prayé when thou has
none, remember thy friend tt | hus-
band, and use him as he uses Lhe » farewel

Hel, Our remedi s oft in ¢ lves do li
Which we ascribe to heaven: t [ sky
Gives us free sco! : only, d | .W i i
Our slow desicns, when we ot ves dull
What power is it, which mo my love so high
That makes me see, and cam feed mine «

The michtiest space in! Lu 1 bri

To join like likes, kiss | native thin :

Impossibl be st re alten

That weigh their | $i] rs s :

What th been car I Who ev \

To show her merit, that did miss | love

The king’s disease—my } tmay d ive me,

But my intents are fix’d, and will not leave me.
[Exit

SCENE I.—Par A room in the Kin: ce

Flourish of « ets Enter the King of Ft

wilh letlers ; L i th (i

King. The Fiorentines is v by the

ears
Hare sous ht with equ 1 fort , al 1 < '
A braving war.

. is a So ‘lis reported, s

King. Nay, ’tis most cred) ve here reccive |
A certainty, vouch’d from our cousin At
With caution, that the Flor ne will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest fr
Pre iudic ites the business, and would scem
To have us make denial.

1 Lord, His love and wisdom
Approv’d so to your m j Sty, may | i
For amplest credence.

Kine. He | irm’d our answer,
And Florence is denied before he ci
Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean Si
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

9 Jord. It m well serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For bre athine rand exploit

Kine. : What's he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord,

Young Bertram.

he small republic

King. Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face ;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos’d thee. Thy father’s m ‘al part
Mav’st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and d ity are your ma) ty’

< Thou wilt comprehend it.

2) Thing rs formed By natata for each other

TI of which

3) ve citizens of t

Sienna is the ¢ ap! tal.

4) To repair, here sicnifies to renovate

THAT ENDS WELL,

Cy 4

ree

King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First try’d our soldiership ! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and ‘was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;

But on us both did haggish age steal on,

And wore us out of ac It much repairs* me
To talk of your rood father t In his youth

He had th vit, which I can well observe

l'o-day in our young lords ; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,

EB y can hide their levity in honour,

) like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were,
His equal had awak’d them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
LE Xce n bid him speak, anc 1, at this time,

H | his* hand: who were below him
He us’d as of another place ;

\ ie i} eminent top to their low ranks,
Making t 1] | of his h nfl ty:

weir | humbled: Such a man

unger times;
| démonstrate them now

d remembrance, sir,
in on his tomb ;

5 ne epitaph,
A «< ' : ‘
k yy La e with him! He would al-
\
Mi him now; his plausive words
He rc eurs, but rafted them,
To to bear,)—Let me not live,—
ly olt began,
On t ind heel of pastime,
\\ it et me not live, quoth he,
if E lo be the snufy
Of we! apprehensive senses
| od f whose judzments are
Mere father {ret ents :° whose constancies
FE el their f ms :——This he wish’d:
1. afl him, do ifter him wish too,
on 1 nor ¥ §, nor noney, can bring home,
[ quickly wer lved from my hive,
l‘o ei li jurers room.
BL You are lov’d, sir;
Ch that | t lend it you, shall lack you first.
King. 1 fill place, | know’t.— How long is’t,
Ci i,
Since the physician at your father’s died 7?
He was much fam'd. ~

B yme six months since, my lord.

k If he were living, I would try him yet;—
Lend me an arm ;—the re ‘t have worn me out
With several applications :—nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son’s no er.

Bea Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt, Flourish.

SCENE I/I.—Rousillon. 4 Room in the Coun-
tess’s Palace, Enter Countess, Steward, and
Clown.

Count. I will now

nilewoman

hear; what say you of this

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your
ontent.* I wish might be found in the calendar
{my past endeavours ; for then we wound our

5) His is put for ts. (6) Approbation.

.W cs have no othe ruse of their faculties than
ey invent new modes of dress.
(8) Ta up to your desires,

’

iC=

 

   

030 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

modesty, and make foul the clearness of our de- Was this king Priccv's joes
servings, when of ourselves we publish them. With that she sighed as she stood,
Count. What does this knave here? Get you With that she svg hed as she stood,
gone, sirrah: The complaints, I have heard of you, And gave this sentence then ;
{ do not all believe; ’tis my slowness, that I do not : Among nine bad if one be goon,
for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and Among nine bad vf one be good,
have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. There’s yet one good mm ten,
Clo. Tis not unknown to you, madam, Iam aj Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the
poor fellow. |song, sirrah. :
Count. Well, sir. _ Clo, One good woman in ten, madam ; which
Clo. No, madam, ’Lis not so well, that Iam poor ;|is a purifying 0’ the song: ’Would God would
tnough many of the rieh are damned: But, if l|serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault
may have your ladyship’s good will to go to the|" ith the tythe-woman, if I were the parson: One
world,! Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.|in ten, quoth a ! an we might have a good woman

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? ‘born but every blazing star, or at an earthquake,
Clo. I do beg your good will in this case. ’twould mend the lottery well; a man may draw
. a i] . ‘ .

Count. In what case? his heart out, ere he pluck onc.

Clo. In Isbel’s case, and mine own. Service| Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I
is no heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the|command you?
blessing of God, till I have issue of my body; for,| Clo. That man should be at woman’s command,
they say, bearns? are blessings. land yet no hurt done !—Though honesty be no pu-
Count. Tell me the reason why thou wilt marry.|ritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the sur-
Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am/|plice of humility over the black gown of a big
driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that/heart.—I am going, forsooth: the business is for

the devil drives. \Helen to come hither. [Exit Clown.
Count. Is this all your worship’s reason ? | Count. Well, now.
Clo, Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons,} Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle-
such as they are. iwoman entirely.
Count. May the world know them ? | Count. Paith, I do: her father bequeathed her

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as|{o me; and she herself, without other advantage

, ’ g ’ ; ’ : . be) ,

rou and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do|may lawfully make title to us much cove as she
3 ’ ’ a

marry, that I may repent. finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and
Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked-|more shall be paid her, than she’ll demand,

ness. Slew. Madam, I was very late more near her
Clo. I am out of friends, madam ; and I hope to|than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and

have friends for my wife’s sake. idid communicate to herself, her own words to her
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. [own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they

Clo. You are shallow, madam; e’en great friends; |touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was,
for the knaves come to do that for me, which Iamjshe loved your son: Fertune, she said, was no
a-weary of. He, that ears? my land, spares my|goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their
team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If I be|two estates ; Love, no god, that would not extend

his cuckold, he’s my drudge: He, that comforts|his might, only where qualities were level; Diana,

my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood;|no queen of virgins, that would sufler her poor
he, that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my|knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the first
flesh and blood ; he, that loves my flesh and blood, jassault, or ransome afterward: This she delivered
is my friend: ergo,* he that kisses my wife, is myjin the most bitter touch of sorrow, thate’er I heard
friend. If men could be contented to be what they|virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty, speedily
are, there were no fear in marriage; for young|to acquaint you withal; sithence,* tn the loss that
Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, |may happen, it concerns you something to know it.
howsoe’er their hearts are severed in religion, their] Count. You have discharged this honestly ; keep
heads are both one, they may joll horns together,|it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of

like any deer ?’ the herd. hts before, which hung so tottering in the balance

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and/that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt: Pray

calumnious knave ? you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and J

Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the/thank vou for your honest care: I will speak with

truth the next way :° you further anon. [Exit Steward.
For I the ballad will repeat, | Enter Helena.

Which men full true shati find ;
Your marriage comes by destiny,

| Count, Even so it was with me, when I was
Your cuckoo sings by kind,
|

youne:
‘ If we are nature’s, these are ours: this thorn
Count. Get you gone, sir; Tl talk with you) Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ;

more anon. Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ;
Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid;It is the show and seal of nature’s truth,
Helen come to you; of her I am to speak. | Where love’s strong passion is impress’d in youth
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would|By our remembrances of days foregone, ~
speak with her; Helen I mean. 'Such were our faults ;:—or then we thought them
Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth s | aan oer oa
é vis fair face the cause, quoth she, none,
{[Singing.| Her eye is sick on’t; I observe her now
Why the Grecians sacked Troy ? Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
: ' t , madam?
Fond done, done fond, Count. You know, Helen

o

1) To be married. (2) Children. (5) The nearest way, 6) Foolishly
3 Ploughs, (4) Therefore. (7) Since, ; \ oolishly doneScene [1]. ALL’S WELL TH
{ am a mother to you.

Hel. Mine honourable mistress.

Count. Nay, a mother;
Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a serpent: What’s in mother,
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother ;
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine: ’Tis often seen,
Adoption strives with nature ; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds:

You ne’er 0; { me with a mother’s groan,
¥et | express to you a mother’s care:—

God’s mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood,
To say, Lam thy mother? What's the matter,
That this distemper’d messenger of wet,
The many-colour’d Iris, rounds thine eye
Why 7——that you are my daughter

Ilel. Th

Count. I say, 1 am your mother.

Hel. Pardon, madam ;
The count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
1 am from humble, he from honour’d name ;
No note upon my paren is all noble:

My master, my dear lord, he is; and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die:
He must not be my brother.
Count, : Nor I your mother?
Hel. You are my mother, madam; ’Would you
nan
tmy
my mother

» more for,' tha

TCcSss ¢

;

at I am not.

' } ,
Ss. nis

o
lord, your

eT
(So tha , were not my brother,)
In iced,
| care n
So I were not his
But, I vour daughter,

tbh)

»my brother?

sat
St

Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my ai
in-law ;
God shield, you mear it not! deughter, and mother,
So strive? upon your pulse: What, pale again?
My fear hath catch’d your fordness: Now I see

The mystery of your loneliness, and find

Your salt tears’ head.? Now all sense ’lis gross
You love my son; inventi
-oclamation ot thy passion,

to

Le wal
m tS asin

!_or were you both our mothers,

AT ENDS WELL. 23 1

'} love your son :—

My triends were poor, but honest; so’s my love:

Be not offended ; for it hurts not him,

| Phat he is lov’d of me: I follow him not

By any token of presumptuous suit ;

Nor would I haye him, till I do deserve him ;

Yet never know how that desert should be.

|! know I love in Vain, strive against hope ;

| Yet, in this captious an4 intenable sieve,

iI still pour in the waters of my love,

And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,

Relivious in mine error, I adore

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,

But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,

Let not your hate encounter with my love,

For loving where you do: but, if yourself,

Whosé aged honour cites a virjuous youth,*

Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,

Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian

Was both herself and love ;* O then, give pity

To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose

But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ;

That seeks not to find that her search implies,

Rut, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,

To co to Paris?
Hel. Madam, I had.
Count, Whercfore ? tell true.
Hel. 1 will tell truth: by grace itself, I swear.

You know, my father left me some prescriptions

\Of rare and prov’d effects, such as his reading,

|And manifest experience, had collected

For gencral sovercignty ; and that he will’d me

In heedfullest reservation to bestow them,

 

laughter-| As notes, whose facultics inclusive were,

More than thef were in note :" amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, apprev'd, set down,

'To cure the desperate languishes, whereof

'The king is render’d lost,

| Count.

, For Pans, was it? spe al
Hel My lord your son made me to think of this;

‘ise Paris, and the medicine, and the king,

This was your motive

r
\e

Acainst the p Er 7 i
To say, thou dost not: therefore tell me true ; aoe vo the a of my thoughts,
" »:—for, look, | heeks Haply, been absent then.
Sut tell me then is S0:—tor, IOOK, | checics biaply, I ;
Cor fess it, on to the other ; ind thine eve Count. But think you, Helen,
Rae il romntt vn in thy! vie if you should tender your supposed aid,
pce it sO grossly § ni ) id, |
That in their kind* they kit: onl n lle would receive it? He and his physicians
bist bit i Ww ul NN , , ’
And hellish obsti y tie | i ‘ {re of a mind: he, that they cannot help him,
And heisn Lina t} 0 ‘ ! ' ; | . nt
That truth should be suspect Shenk. isttso? | They, that they cannot help: How shall they ered:
ir it falas . a 7 i dle clue \ poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
ve 80, Ave vs : ~~ — . : “oe hE tee Mt nee tak .
If it be not, forswear’t: howe’er, I charge thee, cr a have left off
hall } hine ul Che danger to itsell
s heaven shall work in me tor Unine aval, y ;
7 t ily ¢ tral; Ffel. There's something hints,
O Mili TIC LU uit. - He: son pe oe
i [ : Good madam, pardon me More than my father’s skill, which was the greate:
Ned ft, Do you love my son? Of his profession, that his good receipt
pi ft (y mY on / , J
L : | Your pardon, noble mistress! | Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified
a I aa » the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your
Counf. Love you my n jby U uckiest
fel "5 not you lore him, madam honour | an
rick . } . love hath in’t a But give me leave to try success, ] d venture
( ovonl, (50 not cLvOUL - my 1 il Th aa il-lost life f mine on his grace 3 cure,
ar I et Me
a lat ne. ¢ Vf ‘ce. | By such a day, anc nour. ;
Whereof the world takes note! come, come, di ( il Dost thou believe’t ?
close wir nassions Hel. Ay, madam. knowingly. oe
The state of your nti clon - fol ) i ( t Why, H ne thou shalt have my leav
a |
Llave to the ful appeach © and love,
it "Tt. aan Tal) eee : . . ase ”
Hel pou, * © 7 ; ‘Means, and attend nts, and my sOvEne Ere ung
1 high } ! u ; . ; aed >
Here on my knee, Lefore high heave : nd you, I‘o those of mine} court; Vii stay at home,
That before you, and next unto high Acaven
bial ' ‘ 4 _" . es
7 | ) oy ee ;
; ssh j 1] hat vou were no less virtuous wHen young:
e. Teare as much for: I wish it equally. i. Venus
my ss ’ ad + o 6 : é. e g,

‘he souree, the cause ci your ericf,
c yrdine to the ir natt
respectable conduct in

i,

Lf
:
ire.
(

i, ¢, Waose

age proves

which greater virtues were ¢u-

kill.

(7) Receipts in |
closed than appearea. | >

(S) Exhausted of tae

|eee

  
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
    
     
    
  
  
  
   
  

 

And pray God’s blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.
f£xeunt
a

ACT iI:

SCENE I.—Paris. 1 room in the King’s palace.
Flourish. Enter King, wth young Lords taking

ee As 2 ne yay 1c

leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles,

and attendants.

032 ALL’S WELI. THAT ENDS WELL.

.

  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
  

Act i,

sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and ob-
serve his reports for me.

2 Lord. We shall, noble captain.

Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! [Ezxeunt
Lords.] What will you do? ;
{ Ber, Stay; the king [ Seeing him rise.

Par. Use amore spacious ceremony to the noble
lords ; you have restrained yourself within the list
of too cold an adicu: be more expressive to them;

 

|for they wear themselves in the cap of time, there,

do muster true gait,” eat, speak, and move under
the influence of the most received star; and though

King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin-|the devil lead the measure,® such are to be follow

ciples,
Do not throw from you:—and you, my lord, fare-
well:—
Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as ’tis receiv’d,
And is enough for both.
1 Lord. It is our hope
After well-enter’d soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.
King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confess he owes the malady

, SI,

|

ed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell.
Ber. And I will do so,
Par. Worthy fellows: and like to prove most
sinewy sword-men. [Eze. Bertram and Parolles,

Enter Laf u.

Taf. Pardon, my lord, [Kneeling.] for me and
for my tidings,

King. Vl fee thee to stand up.

Laf. Then here’s a man

stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you

That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords: |Had kneel’d, my ]

Whether I live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy Frenchmen; leét hicher Italy
Those ’bated, that inherit but the fall’
f the last monarchy,') see, that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it: y
The bravest questant? shrinks, find what you seek
That fame may cry you loud: |} say, farewell
2Lord. Health, at your biddiye
majesty !
King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of

AA\

They say, our French lack janguac

,; . :
,|Vi YOUr INDrmMiLy §

I'd, my lord, to ask me merey; and
That, at my bidding, you could so stand up,
King. 1 would I had; so I had broke thy pate,
And ask’d thee mercy for’t.
Laf. Good faith, across +?
But, my good lord, ’tis thus; Will you be cur’d

Laf. O, will you eat

\o grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will,
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox

fay T

oe Lo.deny, Could reach them: I have seen a medicine. !°
If they emand: beware of being Canty : inat’s able to breathe life into a stone: :
Before you serve. Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary."
Both. Our heart: rece iy > VOU Ww: ; } ; ] Pp deearyraier ib af is 7 h
em ne Warnings. | Vith sprightly fire and motion: w 10Se€ Simple toue
King. Farewell.—Come hither to me, Is powerful to araise k no Pepin, nay :
[Lhe King retires toa cauch.|To sive creat C rlemain a pen in his hand
1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you wi] A L love-liy
behind us. What her is this?
Par. ’Tis not his fault; the spark—— d Me Jnwl Sindie 2
Spal B- svyiy 10PU, Linere’s one
2 Lord. oN ‘tis brave Wi *s \ J - ?
Par. Most admirable: I hay en tl by my faith and ho
: a4 : : — DY m5 ann ang Honour,
Ber. 1am commanded here, and kept a coi!* wi i may convey my thoughts
Too young, and the next year, and *lis too early. F deliverance, I have spoke
Par, An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away ne. t] n. her ede. har waked neal ©
; , : x, her years, profession,!2
bravely. n, and constancy, hath amaz’d me a
ste “a ¢] r es , g “UU C Nncy, hath amaz’d me more
Ber, I shall stay here the forchorse to a smock. \I'dare blame mv weal . CTE ae ee
- , AC Wer ny weakness: Will you see her
Creaking my shoes on the plain ma onry, ‘or that is her demand,) and know her business $
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn. "1 a lowe ee = eee
But oneto dance with!® By heaven, Ill steal away i ‘Now, good Lafeu
; ae ee Poh. ARERR. \ Now, good Lafeu,
1 Lord. There’s honour in the LOCI be }Oring In the admiration : that we vr ith thee
, . . = baa ‘ . ual ’ Yi ii
Par. Commit if, count. lay spend'odr wonder too, or take off thine
. . ‘ Pitta i Vv * iA j 1é
2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so farewell. | By wond’rin hov thou took’st it .
. . 2 aa MO) }) MUU LOOKS *
‘ Ber. I grow to you, and our parting isa tortured| “Jaf Nay, I'll fit you
ody. |And not be all Woe nat Ores. *. .
. i’ HOt De all day neither. Exil Lafe
1 Lord. Farewell, captain. King. Thus he his special noth { i Lafeu,
2 Lord. Sw sane De 4a | ois special nothing ever prologues
ord. Sweet monsiecur Parolles ! =
|

Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin.
ood sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals :— |
You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one|
captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of)
war, here on his sinister cheek |

1) t. €. Those excepted who possess modern|
Italy, the remains of the Roman e
2) Seeker, inquirer,
3) Be not captives bef
4) With a noise, wistle.
5) In Shakspeare’s “me it was usual for centle-
men to dance with swora: op, .

mpire,

k; it was this very} This is his maje

ore you are soldiers. ci

the object of her coming,

> .

iy pP.py hi ‘ oa )

fve-enter Lafeu, wilh Helena.
Laf. Nay, come vour
King. 7

Laf. Nay, c

ways,

his haste hath wings indeed
ome your Ways:

sty, say your mind to him:

Q\ rr, VY area he ne +} |
(6) : hey are the foremost in the fashion.
(7) eae true military st py. (8) The dance
9) Unskilfullv: a nh ad il : :
(s ) pits: fully » 4 parase taken from the exer.
isSé i ad guint Line,
10) ] le ry} sic ;
( )) Az nale physician, (11) A kind of dance,
2) B

nt her declaration of

nry
I

profession is meaScene LI. ALL’S

A traitor you do look _—
His majesty seldom fea

but such
Lam Cre

’

WELL THAT ENDS WELL 233

But know I think, and think I know most sure,

rs

traito

*s uncle,’

ssid ivi) rts nol past power, hor you past cure.
That dare leave two tosether fare you well. [J K Art thou so coniident? Within what space
King. Now, fairone, does your busine sfollowus?) Hop’st thou my curt
Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon w Liel, The gn st grace lending grace,
My father; in what he did profess, well found. | twice the horses ¢ ic sun shall bring
} ; hn sha Ting
Kine L knew him. | torcher his diurnal ring:
Hel. The rather will I spare my praises tow wice In murk and occidental ¢ lamp
; him; - vi Hesperus® hath quenclid his sleepy lamp ;
Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death Or f nes the pilot’s glass
Many receipts he gave me; chiefly " i i@visn nunutes how they pass ;
VW) nic as the cle arest issue of h practice, \\ i vou! ric | arts shall fly,
And of his old experienc the only darli . Heal hall live free, and sick s freely dis...
He bade me store u Py as a ae ey i. | ‘ ‘ nd i confide nee,
Safer than mine own two, more di I hay 0 \\ ve
And, hearing g you r high mait jesty is touch’d Hel _ Tax of impudenee,—
Wit th that malign int tne whe in the ir \ livulged shame,—
Of my dear fa ther ’s gift stands chief in power, Li my maiden’s name
I come to tender it, and m) appliance, : ol worst extended,
VW 1th all bound humblene ss, Wi v} my i be ended,
King, We thar ou, maid h i e some blessed spirit
But may not be eee oe cure ome
Ww he n our most lea i@d doctors | vi | ee organ weak
rhe conere: silk Gllines have cone! i ' s|
That labouring art can never ra hother way
From her inaidable estate.—] say we: not e life can rate
So stain our j ment, or « . \\ imate ;?
To prostitut Jur past-cur y c, virtue, all
To émpirics ; Lo disse can happy eall:
Our great se it a our ¢ i } t } i timate
A senseless hi WW ‘i
Hel. My y | li i will try;
I will no more enforce mir ‘I die.
Humbl; entrealing trom 5 ii tit 1 in property
A modest one, to bear 1 i e die:
King. l ‘ inot ivi | } { \ \ : death’s my fee
OTratciul Hl me?
Thou thought’st to rn I i
As one ni { th to . your ake it even?
But, what at full Ik , ii und my hopes of
I knowing all ms , eat:
Hel. What I « _ ¢ , with thy kingly
Sin you s¢ \
He | I ] id:
On Y, 4 yy
So holy writ { France -
When es have |
by ™m Sil le 8 { i dV
Wi mile li {
ON ex tion t bserv’d,
Where most it } s rv'd ;
y\ elsc r 2
King. l must nol Lh { kk ” ve
maid . i I ; | must :
Thy pains, not us’d, must by t | more to trust;
Proflers, not took, reap | fi rd trom yw tended on,—But
! Inspired '
él. nspireda mer sO , ili
It is not so with him that all knov | undoubted blest.—
As ‘lis with us that square our guess by sho. , '—If thou proceed
But most it is presumption in us, when ’ . : i shall match thy deed,
rT : . ." osaee
The help of heaven we count the act of men [Llourish. Exeunt,
Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent: royry —: : .
. . / . : $ , Ol \ ] : i\ | 1 /l room ot the ( Oun-
Of heaven, not me, make an experim ’ Sa Ia
: j Enter Countess and Clown.
l am + an impostor, that proclaim
My self against the level of mine aim :;’ (! . & ; I shall now put you to the
(1) LT am like Pandarus.
(2) Of acknowledged excellence. (3) A third ey 7 I | to - things than befits s the
(4) ot Gepeen be Eee judging the two Elde lilion,
(5) i.e. When Moses smote the rock in Horeb.
(6) This must refer to the children of Isra: May be counted among the gifts enjoyed
passing the Red Sea, when ssireck s had been de-| by the

nied by Pharaoh,

(10) ‘The spring or morning of life,
24ae

ee
Se TRE YT WC REMI

oe

 

234 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act 1.

Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly
taught: I know my business is but to the court.
Count. To the court ! why, what place make you

. ; |
special, when you put off that with such contempt ‘|

ut to the court!
Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any
manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that

    

Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally.

 

SCENE II/.—Paris. 4 room in the King’s Pa-
lace. Enter Bertram, Lafeu, ana Parolles.
Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have
our philosophical persons, to make modern? and
\{amiliar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence

cannot make a leg, put off’s cap, kiss his hand, and|is it, that we make trifles of terrors ; —
say nothing, has neither Jeg, hands, lip, nor cap ;|ourselves into seeming know ledge, when we shoul

and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were

submit ourselves to an unknown fear.?

not for the court ; but, for me, J have an answer} Par. Why, ’tis the rarest argument of wonder,
|

will serve all men.
Count. Marry, that’s a bountiful answer, that fits

Clo. It is like a barber’s chair, that fits all but-|
tocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the|
brawn-buttock, or any buttock.

Count. Will your answer serve to fit all ques-
tions ?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an
attorney, as your French crown for your taffata
punk, as Tib’s rush for Tom’s fore-finger, as a pan-
cake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day,
as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as
a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the
nun’s lip to the friar’s mouth; nay, as the pudding
to his skin.

Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fit-
ness for all questions ?

Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your con-
stable, it will fit any question.

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous
size, that must fit all demands.

Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the
learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all
that belongs to’t: Ask me, if I am a courtier; it
shall do you no harm to learn,

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will
be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by|
your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?

Clo. O Lord, sir,—There’s a simple putting off ;—|
more, more, a hundred of them.

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that
loves you.

Clo. O Lord, sir,—Thick, thick, spare not me. |

Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this|
homely meat.

Clo. O Lord, sir,—Nay, put me to’t, I warrantyou. |

Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.

Clo. O Lord, sir,—Spare not me.

Count. Do you cry, O Lord, sir, at your whip-
ping, and spare not me ? Indeed, your O Lord, sir,
Is very sequent! to your whipping; you would
answer very well to a whipping, if you were but
hound to’t.

Clo. I ne’er had worse luck in my life, in my—
O Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not
serve ever.

Count. I play the noble housewife with the time,
to entertain it so merrily with a fool.

Clo, O Lord, sir,—Why, there’t serves well again. |

Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give|

Helen this,
And urge her to a present answer back :
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my s«
This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them.

Count. Not much employment for you: You un-
derstand mv?

Clo. Most fruitfully ; I am there before my legs,

}

ts Properly follows. (2) Ordinary.
(3) Fear means here the object of fear. ~
(4) The dauphin, (5) Wicked,

 

all iro Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,

that hath shot out in our latter times.
Ber. And so ’tis

 

Par. Sol say: both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,—
Par. Right,'so I say.

Laf. That gave him out incurable,—

Par. Why, there ’tis ; so say I too.

Laf. Not to be helped,—

Par. Riwht: as ’twere, a man assured of an—

Laf. Uneertain life, and sure death.

Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said.

Laf. I may truly say, it isa novelty to the world,

Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in show-
ing, you shall read it in,.——What do you call
there ?—

Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earth-
ly actor.
~ Par, That’s it l would have said: the very same,
Laf. Why, your dolphin‘ is not lustier: fore me
I speak in respeet——

Par. Nay, ’Us strange, ’tis very strange, that is
the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most
facinorous® spirit, that will not acknowledge it to
he the——-

Laf. Very hand of heaven.

Par. Ay, so | say.

Laf. Ina most weak——

Par. And debile minister, great power, great
transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a
further use to be made, than alone the recovery of
the king, as to be—— '

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter King, Helena, and attendants,

Par. I would have said it; you say well: Here
comes the kine.

Laf. Lustick,® as the Dutchman says: Ill likea
maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head.
Why, he’s able to lead her a coranto. :

Par, Mort du J magre! Is not this Helen?

Laf. ’Fore God, I think so.

King. Go, call before me all the lords in eourt.—
. _ [Exit an attendant,
Sit, my preserver, by thy patients side :

\nd with this healthful hand, whose banish’d sense
"hou hast repeal’d, a second time receive

Che confirmation of my promis’d gift,
Which but attends thy namine.

aah '

Rais Wick “oan
Enter several Lords.

1

| Fair maid, send forth thine « ye: this youthful parcel

BY wy ) } } : ‘ e
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowin

O’er whom both sovereign power and father’s Voice’
[ have to use: thy frank election make :
Thou hast power tochoose, and they none to forsake.
Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mis-
tres

Fall, when love please !—marry, to each, but one !*

cr
»?

3S

(6) Lustigh is the Dutch word for lusty, cheerful.
(7) They were wards as well as subjects,
(8) Except one meaning Bertram,Scene IIT. ALL’S WELL
Laf. Vd give bay Curtal,' and his furniture,
My mouth no more were broken than these boys’,
And writ as little beard.
King.
Not one
Hel.

Peruse them well:
of those, but had a noble father.
Gentlemen,

Heaven hath, through me, restor’d the king t
health.
All. We understand it, and th ink heaven for vou
flel. lam a sin ple 1 naid; and therein wealthiest,
That, I prot “3 | simp lyama mai ,
Please it your ma) | have done alr ly
The Biiohen in way D eks th whis} mc,
We blush, that thou sh la "st choose; but, 6:
refus’d,
] ; the while di t}, ei! ; {} 4
Well ne’ecr come t/ ‘
King. Viake choices . ' a §
VW ho shuns thy love, shuns all his love In mn
Hel. N INOW, Dian, i m thy t ltar do I fis 7
And to Imperial Love, that god most hich,
Do my sighs stream.—Sir, will you h in i

1 Lerd. And
Hel.
Laf. I had rather be in this choice, thant
ames-at O1 e.
Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fairey
Before I speak, too thre ifeni ly repl : :
J.ove make your f
Her that so wishes, and her humble lov
2 Lord. No better, U you please.
Hel. My wish recciy
Which creat love grant! and so I take my leas
Laf. Do all they denv her? An
of mine,
them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of.
Hel. Be not afraid [Jo a Lord.] U
should t ike
I'll never do you wron
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bi
Find fairer fortune, if
Laf. These boys ar
have her: thes
the French ne’er got
Hel.
To make yours if a son out of my blood.
4 Lord. Fai ir , | think not so.

rant it.

you ever wed
bovs of 1¢ i ft) ey} ’ YY

:
‘ » |
are t

f

sure,

them.

One

Leaf. There’s one grape yet
father drank wine.—But if thou be’st not ar
I am a youth of fourteen; | hay known t

alread
Hel. 1 dare not sa}
but I give

rvice, ever whilst

Me, and
Into your guiding power.—Thi

King. Why then, voung Bertram, take he:
thy wife,
My wile,

highness,

my sé

Ber.

my hi

In such a business vive me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.
King. Know’st thou not, Bertran

What she has done for m:
Ber.
But never hope to know why mm
King. Thou know’st, she has rais’d me f1
my sickly be d.
Ber. But follows it, m v lord,
Must answer for your raising
She had her breeding at my father’s cha

° ;
’ las

to bring me aor

A docked horse.
i. ¢. I have no more to say to you.
The lowest chance of the dice,

THAT ENDS

Thanks, sir: all the rest is mute.*

’ | } —T 7 « - sla
I'd have them whippe A, V | W ua SEM

. ‘ } ;
Y ou are tox ») YOUN, too happy, al ag loo rood

y [take you: To Bertram. ]

. . "1
! I knew her w um:

WELL. 235
\ poor physician’s daughter my wife !—Disdain
Rather corrupt me ever !
King. Tis only title* thou disdain’st in her, the
which
[ean build up, Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour’d all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mig ht \ if she be
\ll that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik’st,
\ poor pl ian’s daughter, ) thou dislik’st
Ol virtue for the name: but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proeced,
The dignified by the doer’s deed
\Where creat additions swell,' and virtue none,
\ eood alone

VS

t

i

NOnOUT :

od, without a name: vileness is so :*
property by what it is should go,
by the title. She is young, wise, fair ;

Tra the to nature she’s immediate heir ;

\nd these breed honour: that is honour’s scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour’s born,

And is not like the stre Honours best thrive,

VV from our acts we them derive
Th } fore-voers: the mere word’s a slave,
Debauch’d on cvery tomb; on every grave,

A | ophy nd as oftisdumb, —

\\ lust, and damned oblivion, js the tomb

ft | ed bor indeed. W hat should be said?
1 canst like this creature a maid,

I can ¢ te the rest: virti a she,

-own dower; honour, and wealth, from me.

‘annot love her
Kine. Thou wrone’st

nor will strive to do’t.
thyself, if thou should’st

‘e well restor’d, my lord, I am

King. My honour’s at the stake; which to defeat,

[ m produce my power: Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, t unworthy this good gift ;

That does in vile mi sion shackle up

My love,.and he dace! that canst not dream,

We, poming us in her Cefeetive scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam: that wilt not know,

It is in us to plant thine honour, where

We please to have it grow: Check thy contempt:

Obey our will, which travails in thy good:

Believe not thy disdain, but presently

Do thine own fortunes that obedient right,

Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims ;

Or I will throw thee from my care for ever,

Into the starwers, and | careless lapse

Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate,

1.0 ne upon thee in the name of justice,

Without all terms of pity: Speak; thine answer,
b Pardon, m)\ rracious lord for I submit

\iy faney to your eye When I consider,
\Wi rreat cre tion, and what dole of honour,

| where you bid it, I find that she, which late
\\ in my nobler thous hts most base, is now

The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled,
le. *twere, born 50.
Kine. Take her by the hand,
And tell her, she is thi to whom I promise
Ac terpoise ; if not to thy estate,
\ balance more replete.
Ber. 1 take her hand.

King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king,
e upon this contract; whose ceremony

| seem expedient on the now-born brief,

The want of title. (5) Titles,

(6) (at on is rood ind lependent of any worldly
and so is vileness vile,

(4) $.. ¢

distinction, ¢PRR) SREP FO Rega ERR

oR EEF :

   
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
 
 
   
      
  
  

936 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act I,

And be perform’d to-night: the solemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lov’st her,

Thy love’s to me religious ; else, does err.

[Exeunt King, Bertram, Helena, Lords, and|

aitendants.

Laf. Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. |

Par. Your pleasure, sir?

Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his make hose of thy sleeves |

recantation.
Par. Recantation ?—My lord? my master ?
Laf. Ay ; Is it nota language, I speak ?

\there’s news for you; you have a new mistress.
| Par. I most unfel; gnedly beseech your lordship
ito make some re se rvation of your wrongs: He is
my good lord: whom I serve above, is my master.

‘Laf. Who? God !

Par. Ay, sir.

Laf. The devil it is, that’s thy master. Why
dost thou garter up thy arms o’ this fashion? dost
‘ do other servants so?
Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose
;stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours
younger, I’d beat thee: methinks, thou arta genc-

{

Par. A most harsh one; and not to be under-|ral offence, and every oe should beat thee. I

stood without bloody succeeding. My master?
Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousillon ?
Par. To any count; to all counts; to what i
man.

Laf. To what is count’s man; count’s master is!

of another style.

Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you
are too old.

Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to
which title age cannot bring the:

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.

Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries,! to b.
a pretty wise fellow ; thou didst make tolerabl
vent of thy travel ; it might pass: yet the scarfs,
and the bannere ts, avout thee aia manifeldly dis-
suade me from believing thee a n vessel of too great

a burden. I have now found thee: when TI Jose!

thee again, Icare not: yet art thou good for no-
thing but taking up ; and that thou art scarce worth.

Par. Hadst thou not the privileze of antiquity
upon thee, ——

Laf. Do not plunge t thyself too far in ane r, lest
thou hasten thy trial; which if—Lord have mere\
on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice.
fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, fo
I look throuch thee. Give met nd,

Par. My lord, you give me most egregious ii
a
Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy
of it. :

Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it.

Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it: and
will not bate thee a seruple. ~

Par. Well, I shall be wiser.

pull at a smack o’ the contrary. If ever tho
bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find wi
it is to be proud of thy bondae t have a desire
to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather }
knowledge ; that I may say,.in the default,? he is 2
man I know.

Par. My lord, you do me most insupportab).
vexation. éé

Laf. E’en as s( oon as thou canst, for thou hast to
a

Laf. 1 would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and
my poor doing eternal; for do} ng [am past: as]
will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. |

[Beit

Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this (lis-j
race off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord !—|
Vell, I must be patie nt; there is no fettering of |

authority. Pil beat him, by my life, if I can mex
him with any convenience, an he were double a
double a lord. [ll have no more pity of his age.
than I w Vil beat him, an if I eo; uli ||
but meet him petit:

                

Re-enter Lafeu,
Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master’s married

1) t. e. While I sat twice with thee at dinner |
te ‘Ay a need, '

think, thou wast created for men to breath? them-

elves 1 ipon thee

Par. 'Phis is hard and undeserved measure, my

Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for
picking a kernel out of a pomegrante; you area
vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more
saucy with lords, and honourable personages, =
the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives rou
commission. You are not worth another word, Zed
Vd call youknave. I leave you. [ Exit.

Enter Bertram.
Par. Good, ve ry good; it is so then.—Good,
» concealed a while.
per. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever !
Par. What is the matter, sweet heart ?

Ger. Although before the solemn priest I have

WOT!

| ilo hye | n rs

Par. What? what, sweet heart ?

e

ber. O my Parolles, they have married me:—
rity } m . . ’ j
1’| »tne iuscan wars, and never bed her,

7 ry .

Po. rrance is a dog-hole, and it no more merits
if f aman’s foot: to the wars!

a Ty a | oi cat 5 nit ‘ ]

r, Th ; letters from my mother: what the

Pur. Ay, that would be known: To the wars,
v boy, to the wars!
; his honour in a box unseen,
it hugs his kicksy-wicksy* here at home ;
ling his manly m erg v in her arms,

|\v hich should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars’s fiery steed : To other regions!
Mrance is a stable ; we that dwell in’t, jades ;
Cheret to the war!
Ber. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house
“quaint my mother with my hate to her, .
And wherefore I am fled: write to the king

il turnish me | » Ite ili an {ie lds,
\ ] a T . . ° —
'Vhere noble fellows st diction : War is no strife

} i nat which I euras } not speak: His present gift

Wo Mei) ' -
l'o the dark house,® and the detested wile.

a eit a es _
f r. Yall this capricio hold in thee, art sure?
ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.

(ll send her straight away: To-morrow
Pil to the wars, _ to her sinele sorrow.
Par. VV hy, these balls bound: there’s noise in it.
—’ Tis hard :

(A young man, marri ed. is a man that’s marr’d :
Tk nen men ¢ ‘ “ e :
Ch lore away, and leave her bravely: oo:
ry , + . .

the king has done you wrong; but, hush ! ‘tis so.
[ Exreunt.

7 re. nother room in the
same, tinter Helena and Clown,

ry] ) \ thar - ; . }

fret, My mother greets me kindly: Is she well ?

Ufo. She 1s not well; but yet she has he r health.
- \ te ;

(3) Exercise,

t) A cant ter wife
5) "The house TY erm for a wife,

hi OMY by discont ent,

}
LaScene V. ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 99

she’s very merry ; but yet she is not well: but! Ber. Ido aswre you, my lord, he is very great
thanks be given, she’s very well, and wants nothing in know! dge, and accordingly valiant.
i’ the world: but vet she is not well. af. | have then sinned against his experience,
Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that!and transgressed against his valour; and my state
she’s not very well ¥ t wavy is dangerous, since I eannot yet find in
Clo. Truly, she’s very well, indeed, bat for two! heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you,
things. 5 make us friends. I will pursue the amity
Hel. What two things? te
Clo, One, that she’s not in heaven, whither God -
send her quickly ! the other, that she’s in earth, Par. These things shall be done, sir.

‘
. i A \ | i
ny} em il ‘ DG as seen = ’ --
from whence Wod send her quickly! {Yo Bertram.
Enter Parolles. Laf. Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor?

Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! i. ’. cs . . i .
Hel. I hope, sir, | have your good will to have) “J: ¥) + Know him we Apel sir; he, sir, 19 a
ane Ot Sen Renee, rs to ! ithem on: and b . Is rone Lo the king { [. lside lo Parolles.
to keep them on, have th m slill.—QO, my Knave! i i. Wall a - 149
How does my old lady? i hn ee ee ee
Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I h 2 &
money, I would she did as you s er. I

Par, Why, I say nothing. se ie 1

ve writ my letters, casketted my trea-

: . (riven order tor our horses: and “nis e
Clo, Marry, you are tl wiser man; [or many), ; . t nigh
’ : re : yynen 2: possession of the bride, -
a man’s tongue shakes out his m 3 ngila. ne orice,
’ ; ‘ . ' -
To say nothing, to do not ng, to y nou > a . .
: i \ 1s methine at the lat-

and to have nothing, is to | rt of you 7 ‘ oe an 0 Nae 3°
title ; which is within a very little of not ° a t tinteak 4 ue
} Su WUlOUSaAN lOLIID LE:
Par. Away, thou art a knave. - and nothings
Clo. You shoul i] Ve S8a1C. iis | ; ' . SS eer ——
thou art a knave: that is, bet me thou 7 : , a aad + cated
knave :* this had been tru! Fae , ee ve ae
Par. Goto, t houart a witty | ol, I hav . 4 ee Pend sien
Clo. Did you find me in y : ea “ane, “vara,
you taught to find me? The sea , Sir, - j ' ; ae
.* a. % I ve | i ) run iInto’t, boots
able ; and much fool may you find in you, even a that | ’d into tl
: , EER m that Ie d into the
the world’s pleasure, and the increas Ps i, , . oe es ee : t} F
Par. A good knay ve, faith, and well fed.— ‘ Ree tee —
Madam, my lord 5 ) ar to- it : - ra ie
A very st rious bu - as cal | p77 ae iStanCN itm, my ord,
ie t pr coe o ' Laj. s | do ever, tl h I took him at
Thy ered ro 1L1ive and ri i . i ; ia ' ryt lard a 1] lie
Wi} hich, as ve ur Gauge | e ¢ ms - , — : .s 7 9 ee us : ve
’ lede ne ‘elie { me, n be no kernel in‘this lieht
CU [2 ‘ ; ,.. 41
But puts it off | 519.3 man ts his clothes: trust him
wite it off by a compell’d r:
i puts it i con j . tier of ivy cons Hence : I have kept
Whose want, and whose ¢ > 4 ; a. ' key natu Farewell
siwrets ’ . Ph -? _ . ?
at wets - ba ] j 1 Detter of you, than you
»} | ‘yw diat In win f eur } ¢ ; : . . ’ 5
W hich hey Gisuis | pw An e : ; i i il my hand; but we must do
T'o make the coming hour o’erflow.wi . ; . ins
evil, [| Exit,
And pleasure drown the brim. j Aan Bata tne’ 8 aeenae
Hel. What's his will e] en. : oe
Par. That you will take your i leave oO’ Rit wih tat anes Whee 9
the kin fs j ; \ " } . | 1} ‘ a.
tay Ber. Ye [ do ] wv him well: and common
And make this haste as you: n
i . +} sia le th that hs \ » f ‘ ‘ et
Strengthen’d with or J. " Gis Lat pass. Here comes my clog.
May make it probable need. , :
Hel. Wohatn c : ' / fer Helena.
Par. That, having t tg you Tiel if
os a BE, naving ‘ Li ; = aay } s ve. ~ | was comn ind ‘ad from you,
Attend his furth yp ‘ ; Wi leit nd have procur’d his leave
Hel. In every thing | wait upon his will. 7 - only. he desires
Par. I shall report it so. iy vou
Hel. | yp! ) LC » SITE : Hier. I sh I obey ais will.

\ must not marvel, Helen, at my coxtse,
: i a ( h holds not colour with the time Bae Gaul
SCENE V.— nother room tm tie same, Ln ; i ae”
i ry i? j ryii ‘TT { halt ©
| = id B . i i ! rt i] al ¢ (
sleu and beriram. “\ 4 ee dT was not

Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a}! ch a busi: ; therefore am found
soldier. ch unsettled: This dyires me to entreat you,
Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. |That presently you take your way for home ;

Laf. You h ive it from | own delis nec, \ ratl * n ” os why i entreat you;
Ber. And by other warrant if tir ls or my respect re | Lh r than the y seem 5
Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this) And my appointments have in them a need,

lark for a bunting.?

(1
(2

but has itt} or no song, which gives estimation to

the sky-lat

specious appearance of nect pink
~ (3) \V ae -

) A
s he bunting nearly resembles the sky-larkea

   
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
  
    
 
  
 
   
 
  
    
  
   
   
     
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
     
  
  
   
      
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
   

Ce eee Ce at

 

   

838 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

Greater than shows itself, at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother:
[ Giving a letter.

*T will be two days ere J shall see you; so
I leave you to your wisdom.

Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.

Ber. Come, come, no more of that.

Hel. And ever shal]
With true observance seck to eke out that,

 

Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail’d
To equal my great fortune. |
Ber. Let that go:
My haste is very creat: Farewell; hie home. |
Hel, Pray, sir, your pardon.
Ber. Well, what would you say ?
Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ;!
Nor dare I say, ’tis mine ; and yet itis ;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.
Ber. What would you have
Hel. Something ; and scarce so much :—nothing, |
indeed.—
I would not tell you what I would: my lord—aith,
ye
Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.
er. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel, I shall not break your bidding, good my}
lord.
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ?—
Farewell. {Exit Helena.
Go thou toward home ; where I will never come,
Whilst f can shake my sword, or hear the drum :—
Away, and for our flight.
ar. Bravcly, coragio! [Eze.|
|

-_———>>
ACT III. |

SCENE I.—Florence. .2 room in the Duke’s|
Palace. Flourish. Enter the Dulce of Florence, |

Act ft

And all the honours, that can fly from us,
Shall on them settle. You know your places well ;
When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field. { Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE IJ.—Rousillon. .1 room in the Countess’s
Palace. Enter Countess and Clown,

Count. It hath happened all as I would have
ad it, save, that he comes not alang with her.
Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a

very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you?

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing ;
e ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing >

mend th
nick his teeth, and sing: ! know aman that had
this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for
a song

Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he
mecns to com | Opening a letter.

Clo. I have no mind to Isbell, since I was at
‘court: our old ling, and our Isbels o’ the country,
are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o’
ie court: the brains of my cupid’s knocked out;
and I begin to love, as an old man loves money,

t}
with no stomach.
Count. What have we here?
Clo. E’en that vou have there. { Lxit.
Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-
law : she hath recovered the king, and undone me.
I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to
make the not elernal, You shall hear, I am run
away; know tt, before the report come, If there
be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long
distance. My duty lo you.
Your unferlunate son,
BERTRAM,
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a king; ~
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous
“or the contempt of empire.

Re-enter Clown.

  

attended ; two French Lords, and others. |

Duke. = ae point to point, now hav¢ |, Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within,

’ ; ‘between two soldiers and my young lady

The fundamental reasons of this war ; | Claiiet "Wi hend te the alee ng lady.
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, | ' er

: ‘lo. Nay ‘re is s 2 Put 2 2...
And more thirsts after. ro. “vay there is some comfort in the news,

‘some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon

. Clo. So Say I * In if er ¢ as ae " ™
Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin y #, madam, if he run away, as I hear

1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel |< 7 thoucht he would
Upon your grace’s part; black and fearful : ie’ "Wie hol | “1N7 9
On the opposer ount, 1y should he be kill’d 7
France jhe does: the danger is in standing to’t; that’s the
France [loss of men, though it be the eettine of childre
Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom iy : on a, at He ; the getting of children.
: . ire ey come nore or ‘par
Against our borrowing prayers. ee ney COME, Wilt tel you more: for my pare, &
2 Lord. : : Good my lord, {OY hear, your son was run away, [| Exit Clown.
J ,

The reasons of our state I cannot yield,? Enter elena and too Gentlemen.
it like a common and an outward man,3 1 Gent. Save you, good madam.
ht the great figure of a council frames Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone
Y 8eli.unable motion: therefore dare not 2 Gent. Do not say so. © ”
Say whav | think of it; since I have found

! Count. Think upon patience.—’Pray y .
fi . Think upo ence. ray you, gen-
Myself inn uncertain grounds to fail tlemen,— i
As often astguess’d. [have fi Ps ief
Duke uess’d, 3 lave felt so many quirks of joy, and erief,
° rok But } Be it his pleasure. Chat the first face of neither, on the start,
oe 4m sure, the younger of our na-|Can woman® me o’t :-— re is mys ray
Pi, , j in Woman® me unto’t : Where is my son, I pray

you
~ Gent. Madam, he’s gone to serve the duke of
“ Florence:
Velcome shall they be; |We met him thitherward; from thence we came
. a . . ?
And, after some despatch in hand at court,

That surfeit on their ease yj es
Come here for physic, will, day by day,
Duke.

1) Possess.
; aa Ney gh ee ine reasons. (5) The folding at the top of the boot
e secret of affairs. (6) #. €. Affect me suddenly and deeply
(4) As we say at present, our young fellows. sex are usually affected, 7a wey oorRo - - wre ’ e mri ’ orn - - at a
Seené 117, 1F, ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 239
Ty rit er w , 4A i ‘ Ss
= Pas aon agar. ‘ igs {hat drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
+ 400K On this letter, madam; here’s my) Wast shot at with fair ev: s, to be the mark

passport Of smoky muskets? O you lea S i
[Reads. ] When thou can et the rine upon my|That ride ak ah fe i - n messengers,
jinger,' which never shed Hl come off, a d show r ily ith fh me So Br : pag cap aa lire, :

a child begotten of thy body, that I am father to |'That sir qiakiedis a ma piercing air,
then call me husband: but in such a then I wrilz| Whoeves choot, Es | - - 0 Ae — h lord!
re... neve re Whoeve Fr cnarget 5 on i for 2 11 a
This is a dreadful sentence, I am the caitif’ that do : a he ads ast,
Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ? Ay ys ae es ee 0 hold him to it ;
1 Gent. ~ le) i Semen oe = ugh I kill hi t. [ am the cause
AVY, madam: riis a th was so eff stat bett *twere
And, for the conte nts’ sake, are sorry for our | ains.' | met the ravin4 ae “ he, .— aa —
Count. I pr’ ythee, lady, have a | att rci ors a Wit «| * Cliniabiatee . mi
If thou engrossest all the aviets ai sine a Phy °% i ., a : es whi aUDge ; etter twere
Thou robb’st me of a moiety: He was my « \ oy Scena ype tingle am _ ae OGM,
But I do wash his name out of my blood : =} \ 3 HO ¢ ™ A : se - thou HOME, Rousillon,
And thou art all my child.—Towards Florence! As oft jt los oe t off ee Wins @ECEr,
is he? oe ss gs My ie 1 p will be ee
2 Gent. Ay, madam. + va , ‘t - $e ani ae thee hence :
Count. And to be a soldier? hon ade AAC oo ot a serene
2 Gent, Such is his noble purpose: and, b lieve’t./ And angels « i i: I - ib aaa
The duke will ' Ly upon him all the honour "Tet miliul snail ads a a. in
That good convenier : claims. Lo , ( late + * a ‘ Rime we ey a 1d
Count. Return'you thither ? | with ¢) eee , Late tee ‘ rete, Gayt
1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing ot ee oe aa it
speed, wt.
Hel. [Reads. ] Till I have nowife, I hat th ve ENE ill.—Florence. Before the Duke’s Pa
re. hist France. i 4 ; ’ h. = t r the in ke of Florence,
, r. » 40T " PUsCETS, QOLdTETS, and others
Count. Find you that there ? Duke." laf ;
Hel. ; bv: widen, ieee : *gencral of our horse thou art; and we,
. Gent. Tis but the boldness of his hand, hapty, | : in our t pe, lay our best love and credence,
which ioe ee
His heart was not cons: rape to. \ o] 2 a tino heewe? Sir, it is
Count. Nothing in Prat aay veal he have no wife! yp) sale ‘hs eae ? pmy strength ; but-yet
There’s — here that is too good for him, Tis the Gubreris: allies o hee ony sake,
But only she; and she oh ‘rves a lord, lia ak 7 a
That twenty such rude boys might tem d upon, iad Goetinn: pies vile te prospe zo thou forth;
And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him? As thy auspic Stade ielahd aT? ‘ous helm,
Which Ti ss Serer, ON nd a gentleman Ber a eae: This very da
ich I have some time known. haat si bial ed at
es oe aE a “ i) eae : If rete it : a
1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. eel C1 we ona d Ce ne le —_ TE wove
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick- a my CPaaD, eee Se | LrCteng,
4 ’ .
edness, SCENE IV.—Rousillon. 4 room in the Coun-
My son corrupts a well-derived nature tess’s Palace. Enter Countess and Steward.
bay Ss — Indeed, good lady, Cor nt Al as | and would you take the letter of
The fellow has a deal of that, too much, ; Micht — ;
Which holds him much to have. te , doe od — would do as she has done,
Count. You are welcome, gentlemen. By sending me a letter? Read it again.
I will entreat you, when you see my son. Stew. Jam Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone ;
To tell him, that his sword can never win | Imbitious love hath so in me offended,
The honour that he loses: more [’]] entreat you That 6 rré-fool pl i I the cold ground upon,
Written to bear along. With sainted vow my faulls to have amended,
2 Gent. We serve you, madam, HW rile, write, that, from the bloody course of war,
In that and all your worthiest affairs. My dearest master, your dear son may hie ;
Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.? Ble $s him al home in peace, w hilst I from far,
Will you draw near ? | His name with zealous fervour sancti fy:

: - : fe taken lahourse bid him om es
[Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. Elis tak mas rs bid him me forgive ;

Hel. Till I have no wif

. ° his | nief li iO nil } -
, 1 have nothing in 4; on ee lJ »° sent him forth

France. : 7 b } rily friends, 1 wilh camping foes to live,
Nothing in France, until he has no wife! Where death and danger dog the heels of w orth :
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France, | [1 is too good and fair for death and me ;

Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! ist I Whom I myself} embrac é, lo set him free.

That chase thee from thy country, and expose Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest

Those tender limbs of thine to the event words !|—
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I | Rinaldo, you did never lack advice* so much,
|
> r . . : | .
(1) é. ¢. When you can get the ring, which is on|otherwise than as she returns the same offices of
my finger, into your possession. icivility.

(2) If thou keepest all thy sorrows to thyself. | (4) Ravenous,
(3) In reply to the gentlemen’s declaration, that} (5) Alluding to the story of Hercules,
tney are her servants, the countess answers—no! (6) Discretion or thought.340 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act III.

As letting her pass 0; had I spoke with her,

I could have well diverted her intent:

Which thus she hath prevented.
Slew. Pardon me, madam:

If I had given you this at over-night,

+} restad
She might have been o’ertaken ; and yet she writes, |

Pursuit would be in vain.

Count. What angels shall
Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to hear,
And loves to gr ant, repricve him fron 1 the wrath
Of greatest justice. —Write, write, Rinaldo,

To this unworthy husband of his wile

Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, an
That he does weigh! too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply,
Despatch the most convenient messenger :—
When, haply, he shall hear that she 1s gone,

He will return ; and hope I may, that she
Hearing so much, will speed | (
Led hither by pure love: which of them both,

Is deare st to me, I have no skill in sen

To make distinction:—Provide this messenger :—
My heart is heavy, and mine is W

Grief would have tears, and sorrow

E ACh! «7 TWethawt the om ot
SC av a Fs PF bel ‘ ;

tucket afar off. ( \

rence, Diana, Vioicnta, tuariana, r Cili-

zens.

Wid. Nay, come; fer if they @0 approach U
city, we shall lose all th ,

Dia. They sav, the rene COUNL ft} aqone m
honourable service

Wid. It is reported, t! if he has t ken 1
greatest comma! def; and thal ith his own hay
he slew the duke’s broyner. VA ‘ our la-
bour; they 9¥®© po a contrary way: hark! you
may kway dy their trumpets

} na .
Mar, i let’s return again, ant

scives with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed
opchis French e arl: the honour of a maid is he:
game; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

Wid. 1 have told my neighbeur, how you have

been solicited by a gentleman, his companion.

Jifar. I know that knave; hang him! one Pa-
rolles: a filthy officer he is x those suggestions?
for the young e arl. Be ware of them, Diana: their
promises, enticements, oaths tokens, and all these
engines of lust, are not the things t]
many a maid hath been seduced by them; and
the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in
the wreck of maidet thood, eannot for all that dis-
suade succession, but that t ith the!
twigs that threaten them.
advise you further; but I hope your own grae:
will keep you where you are, though there were
no further danger known, but the modesty which
is so lost.

Dia. You shall not need to fear me.

Enter Helena, in the dress of a pilgrim.

rr)

   
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
    
  
  
 
   
  
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
 
   
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
      

 

Wid.’ At the Saint Francis here, beside the port,

Hel. Is this the way?

Wid, Ay, marry, is it. —Hark you !
[4 march afar off.

| They come this way :—If you will tarry, holy pil-

erim,

| But till the troops come by,
lt will conduct you where you shall be lodg’d;
|The rather, for, I think, I ‘know your hoste 8B,
[As am ple as myse If. ;
Hel. . it yourse f?

Wid. If you shall pleas , pugrim.

Hel. I thank you, and w ‘lls (ay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think, from France ?

Fel I did so.
Wid. Were you shall see a countryman of yours,

it has done worthy service.

lel, His name, I pray you?
ct. : { ISI n: Know you sucha one?
fel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:

?

His face 1 know not

Nia. Whatsoe’er he is,
He’s bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As is reported. tor® the kine had marrie d him
Loainst his liking: Think yeu it is so?

Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth;*I know his

} !

D leman that serves the count,
R ly of her.

Hel. What's his name?

Dia. Monsieur Parolles.

Flel. O, I believe with him,

t of praise. or to the worth
nt himself, she ts too mean
lo have !} name repeated; all her deserving
reserved honesty, and that

ij not heard examun’d,

/ te A] is, poor lady !
lis a hard bondage, to become the wife
UY 1 sting lord.

San ht. good creature: wheresoe’er she ts,

a
~
at

r heart weiel ung maid might do

. shrewd turn, if she pleas’d,

i
Fel, How do you mean ?
May be, the amorous count solicits her
In the unlawful purpose.
Wid. Iie does, indeed ;

And brokes’ with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
But she is arm’d for him, and keeps her guard
In honestest defence,
mW » sndth te it diate bn iil .
Enter with drwn and colours, a party of the Flo-
- ; ?
rentine army, Bertram, and Parolles
Mar. ‘The gods forbid else!
> rs) .
Wid, So, now they come :—
That is Antonio, the duke’s eldest son;

That, Escalus,

He l, Which is the Frenchman?
Dia He:

my : i '
hat with the plume: ’tis a most gallant fe llow ;

, ee . , . ~
i would, he lov’d his wife: if he were hone ster,

Wid. 1 hope so.——Look, here comes a pil-;He were much goodlier:—Is’t not a handsome

grim: I know she will lic at my house: thither

they send one another: I’l] question her.—

God save you, pilcrim! Whither are you bound ?
Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand.

Where do the palmers* lodge, I do beseech you?

|

 

3) They are not the thines for which their names
would make them pass,

"
(1) Weigh, here means to value or esteem. |
2) Temptations.

pr

rent eman

Tel. like him well.
Dia. is pity he is not honest: Yond’s that same
mave,
Phat leads him to these places; were I his lady,

(4) Pilgrims; se called from a staff or bough of
Im they were wont to carry.

(5) Because. (6) The exaet, the entire truth.
(7) Deals with panders,Scene VI. ALL’S WELL

I'd gy that vile rascal.
Hel, Which is h

Dia. That Jackanapes with scarfs: W hy
melancholy ?

Hel. Perchance he’s hurt i’ the battle.

Par. Lose our drum! well.

Var. He’s shrew daly vex’d at som l I

he has spied us.
Wid. Marry, hang you!
“War. And your court sy, for a ri
[Exveunt Bertram, Parolles, officer
soldiers.
The troop is past :
bring you
Where you shall host: of « njoin’d pen!
There’s four or five, to great Saint Jai

Alread

W id,

y at my house.
Hel. : 1 | | |
Please it this matron, and t
To eat with us to-night. the ec}
Shall be for me ; and, to requ
I will bestow some precepts on thi
Worthy Line note,
Both. We'll
SCENE VI.—(
ser | j
l Lord, Nay
hin have his 1
2 Lord. If
hold me no nr \
1 Lerd. On ile, 1
Ber. Do you think |
l Lord. Believe it. 1
knowledge, without
as my kinsman, he’s a n
finite and endless liar, an h ly ] ise-
the owner of no one
ship’s entertainment.
2 Lord, It were fit i}
too far in his virtu
at some great a
ger, fail you.
jer. I would I knew in
to try him.
2 Lord. N bette let
drum, which you hear him so:
to do,
l Lord. I, with a t
denly surprise him; such |
sure, he knows not from t
and hood-wink him } tai 1]
other but that he is-carried into t
adversaries, when we bring him to «
but your lordship present at h
do not, for the promise of his life, and j
est compulsion of base fear, offer to |
and deliver all the intellicence in
you, and that with the divine fo
oath, never trust my judgment in : ;
2 Lord. QO, for the love of laughter, let him
his drum ; he says he has a stratagem for’t:
your lordship sees the bottom of his succ:
and to what metal this counterfeit lump of |
be melted, if you give him not John D:
tainment, your inclining cannot be removed.

he comes.
Enter Parolles.

1 Lerd. O, for the love of laughter, hind

die in the attempt,

»\

1) A paltry fellow, acoward. (2)

T

The c
$) I would recover the lost drum or another, 7 pe

HAT ENDS WELL. 24}

e humour of his design; let him fetch off his

1 in ny hand,
is h Be tlow now, monsieur? this drum sticks
y in your disposition,
» Lord, A pox on’t, let it go; ’tis but a drum.
Per. Buta drum! Is’t but a drum? A drum so
— The was an excellent command! to
c e in with our horse upon our own wings, and
to rend o lr own S¢ die rs.
2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the com-
the service; it was a disaster of war that
{ ld not have prevented, if he had
ly t 1c] » command,
i Wi ( I ore atly condemn our SUC-
nour we had in the loss of that
LO | re ‘overed.
i | e been recovered.
/ lt jut it is not now.
Iti be recovered: but that the merit of
d to the true and exact
| would have that drum or another, or
; \ vi mach to’t, monsieur
vst in stratagem can bring
rain into his native
) the enterprize, and go
W rthy exploit:
duke shall both speak
t further becomes his
ulmost syllable of your wor.
ier, | will undertake i*.
now slumber in it.
yenin and | will pre
my dilemmas,* encourage myself
elf into my mortal prepara-
, look to hear further from me.
lo acquaint his grace, you
Par. |] iv not what the success will be, my
[ y ;
t valiant: and, to the possi
ip, will subseribe for thee,
words. [ Exit.
N ian a fish loves water.—Is not
w, my lord ? that so confidently
ke this business, which he knows
, to | e; damns himself to do, and dares
| 1 | ntodaot’-
/ . tou do not know him, my lord, as we
ci it is, that.he will steal himself into a
, and, for a week, escape a great deal
R ; but when you find him out, you
\ ' hink he will make no deed
) seriously he does address him-
1] . None in the werld; but return with an
clap upea you two or three proba.
le we have almost embossed him,* you
: e his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for
; | ip’s respect.
MS : > Lord. Wel} make you some sport with the fox
we case him.* He was first smoked by the ol
— | Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted,
re ell me what a sprat you shall find him ; which you
| this very night.

I must go look my twigs; he shall be

(4) I will pen down my plans, and the probable

amp.

(5) Hunted him cone. Y Strip him naked,Lee eae aepesnhninpncnisomenrers eet

 

. = its
ve 5 ri ee
a é xr Sy ee oe
ees pee

 

242 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Vict 1¥.

Ber. Your brother, he sall go along with me.

1 Lord. As’t please your ‘ordship: I’ll leave you.
[ Exit.

Ber. Now willl lead you to the house, and show

you
The lass I spoke of.
2 Lord. But, you say, she’s honest.
Ber. That’s all the faul:: I spoke with her but
once
And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,
By this same coxcomb that we have i’ the wind,
Tokens and letters which sie did re-send ;
And this is all I have done: She’s a fair creature ;
Will you go see her?
2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord.
Eveunt.

SCENE VII.—Florence. .1 Room in the Widow’s
house. Enter Helena and Widow.

Hel. If you misdoubt me that Iam not she,
1 know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall lose the grounds { work upon. !
Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well
born,
Nothing acquainted with the e businesses ;
And would not put my reput: tion now
In “ staining act.
Hel. Nor would I wish you.
First, give me trust, the coun. he is my husband;
And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken,
Is so, from word to word; and then you cannot,
By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
Err in bestowing it.
Wid, I should believe you ;
For you have show’d me that, which well approves
You are great in fortune.

el. Take this purse of gold,
And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
Which I will over-pay, and pay again,

When I have found it. The count he woos your
daughter,

Lays down his wanton siege b: fore her beauty,

Resolves to carry her ; let her. in fine, consent,

As we'll direct her how ’tis bes. to bear it,

Now his important? blood wil! nought deny

‘T iat she'll demand: A ring th county? wears,

‘L 11t downward hath succeedec in his house,

Irom son to son, some four or j.ve descents

Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds

In most rich choice ; yet, in his dle fire,

‘fo buy his will, it would not sec in too dear,

F'owe’er repented after.

VU. Now I see
Tuc bottom of your purpose.

Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more,
ut that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
Jyesires this ring ; appoints him an encounter .
Iii fine, delivers me to fill the time,

Herself most chastely absent: after this,
‘To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is past already.

id. I have yielded :
Instruct my daughter how she shall perséver,
That time and place, with this deceit so lawful,
May prove coherent. Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs compos’d
To her unworthiness: It nothing steads us,

To chide him from our eaves ;* for he persists
As if his life lay on’t.

Hel, Why then, to-night

1) ¢. ¢. By discovering herself to the count.

2) Importunate. (3) te, Count,
4) From under our windows,

Let us assay our plot; which, if it spéed,

Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,

And Jawful meaning in a lawful act ;

Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:

But let’s about it. {| Exeunt.

~ ae
ACT iV:

SCENE I.—Without the Florentine camp, En-
ter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in am-
bush,

] Lord. He can come no other way but by this
hedge’s corner: When you sally upon him, speak
| what terrible language you will ; though you under-
istand it not yourselves, no matter: for we must not
seem to understand him; unless some one among
us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter.

1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he
‘not thy voice ?

1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you.

1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak
to us again ?

1 Sold. I:ven such as you speak to me.

1 Lord. He must think us some band of stran
gers i’ the adversary’s entertainment.* Now he hath
ja smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore
|we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not
\to know what we speak one to another; so we
|seem to know, is to know straight our purpose:
chough’s® language, gabble enough, and good
enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem
very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to
|beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return
jand swear the lies he forges.

:.
Enter Parolles.

 

| Par. Teno’clock: within these three hours ’twill
be time enough to go home. What shall I say]
have done? It must be a very plausive invention
that carries it: They begin to smoke me ; and dis-
graces have of late knocked too often at my door.
I find my tongue is too fool-hardy ; but my heart
hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his crea-
tures, not daring the reports of my tongue.

1 Lord. This is the first truth that e’er thine own
tongue was guilty of. | Aside.

Par. What the devil should move me to under-
take the recovery of this drum ; being not ignorant
of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such
purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say,
I got them in exploit: Yetslight ones will not earry
it: They will say, Came you off with so little? and
great ones I dare not give. Wherefore? what’s
the instance?” Tongue, J must put you into a but-
ter-woman’s mouth, and buy another of Bajazet’s
mule, if you prattle me into these perils. ~

1 Lord. Is it possible he should know whathe is
and be that he is ? [.Aside.

Par. I would the cutting of my garments would
serve the turn; or the breaking of my Spanish
sword, :

1 Lord. We cannot afford you so. [ Aside.

Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to say, it
was in stratagem. : -

1 Lord. ’T would not do. [ Aside.

Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was
tg 5

1 Lord. Hardly serve. | .4side,

 

t. ¢. Foreign troops in the enemy’s pay.

(d)
| (6) A bird like a jackedaw, (1) Phe proofScene IT, ALL’S WELL

Par. Thouch I swore I le aped from the window!

of the citade oT
I ae How deep?

Par. Thirty fathom.

[.Aside,

1 Lord. Three rreal oaths would searce make

that be believed. [ Aside.
Par. | would I had any drum of the ene mys:
I would swear | re covered if.

] Lord. \ Ou shall hear one “non. [.7 ide, |

Par. A drum now of the enemy’s !

~——

] Lord, Thr Ca MovGUIUS, Carec, curso, ca Me

All. Ca 1, CarSO, Utada par cu Ou, ¢ ro,
Par. O' ransome, ransome Do not hide mine
eves. | Lhey sé him and blindfold hin.

| Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskwos,

Par. | know you are the Muskos’ regiment,
And I shall + sc my lite for want of laucuae
If there | ye here Crerman, O1 Dane, low Dutch
Italian, or French, let him speak lo me
1 will discover that which shall undo

The Florentin

’

1 Sold. Basi vaurado :——

J understand thee, and can speak thy tongue :——
Kerelyd milo >;——S ir,

Betake Lhee to thy taith, | Seventee ip s
Are alt thy bosom.

Par. Oj!

1 Nold. QO, pray, pray ccd
Manka revania ue.

l Lord. () } di | | 5 r ita rca
al: d-wink’d as thou art, will | lihee on
To gather trom | i haply, thou m *st inform
Something to save thy hile.

Par. QO, let me live,

Aud all the secrets of our camp [ll sh
Their fo ce, the ir purposes: nay, I'll speak that
\\ ~ h you will wonder at.

Nold But wilt thou faithfully

| yee If l do not. a Litt if
l Sold.
Come on, thou art granted spac

1 Lerd. Go, tell the count Rousi . and n
brother,
We have caught the woo icock, and will k ep him
mulled,
Till we do hear from them.
2 Sold. Captain, I will.

1 Lord. He will betray us all unt » ourselves ;—
Inform ’ em that.
Sold. So | will, sir.
Lord. Till then, i} keep him dark, and Ss! fel
lock’d. [Ea

SCENE Il.—Florence. 4 room in the Widow’
house. Enter Bertram and Diana.

Ber. They told me, that your name was I’ on-

= >

titel.
Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber. Titled goddess ;

And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,

In your fine frame hath love no quality ?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument:
When you are dead, you should be such a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern ;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet self was got.

Dia. She then was honest,

(1) i.e, Against his determined resolubion never
to cohabit with Helena,

THAT ENDS WELL. O43

“*

Ber, So should you be.
| Dia, : No.
|My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
|As you owe to your wile,
Ber. No more of that!
I pr’ythee, do not strive against my vows:!
I wi is com] pell’d to her: but I love thee
By love’s own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.
| Dia. Ay, so you serve us,
Till we serve vou: but when you have our roses,
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,
\nd mock us with our bareness.
Ber. lLiow have I sworn ?
Dia, *Tis not the many oaths that make the
truth :
put the plain single vow, that is vow’d true.
What is not holy, that we swear not by,
But take the Hichest to witness :? Then, pray you,
tell me, Ps
If I should swear by Jove’s great attributes,
[ lov’d you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ill? this has no holding,
lo swear by him whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him: Therefore, your oaths
\re words, and poor condilions; but unseal’d ;
\t least, in my opini
Rer. Change it, change it .
Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy
And my inte erity ne'er knew the Laie:
That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
But give thyself unto my sick desires,
Who then recover: Say, thou art mine, and ever
My love. it begins, shall so perséver,
Dia. 1 see that men make hopes in such affairs,
That we'll forsake ourselves, Give me that ring.
Ber. Vi lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
lo eive rt from me.
Dia Will you not, my lord ?
is an honour ‘longing to our house,

ee

B hed down from many ancestrs ;
Which were the greatest ob loquy the world
In me to lose.

Dia. Mine honour’s such a ring:
\fy chastity’s the jewel of our house,
5 a id down from many ancestors:

i ’

Which were the eatest obloquy 1’ the world
|
|

n me to lose: Thus your own proper wisdom
srings in the champion honour on my part,
\gainst your vain assault,

Ber. Here, take my ring:

My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,

id I'll be bid by thee.

Dia. When midnight come

ber window

Ipy order take, my mother shall not hear.

Now will I charge you in the band of truth,

Wien you have conquer’d my yet maiden be d,

Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:

Vy reasons are most strong; and you shall know
‘ them,

When back again this ring shall be deliver’d :

And on your finger, in the night, Pll put

Another rine: that, what in time proceeds,

\Iav token to the future our past deeds.

(dieu, till then; then, fail not; you have won

\ wife of me, though there my hope be done.
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won, by wooing

thee, iE vit.
Dia. For whicl h live long to thank both heaven
and me

, knock at my cham-

) The sense is—we never swear by what is not
holy, but take to witness the Highest, the Divinity,

:

eee eeO44 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act IP

You may so in the end.—— |

My mother told me just how he would woo,

As if she sat in his heart; she says, all men

Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me,
When his wife’s dead ; therefore I’ll lie with him, |
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so,

raid,? ;
Marry that will, Pll live and die a maid:
Only, in this disguise, I think’t no sin 2
To cozen him, that would unjustly win. [ Exit. |

SCENE IlI.—The Florentine camp. Enter the

two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.

 

1 Lord. You have not given him his mother’s|
letter ? |

2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since: there
is something in’t that stings his nature ; for, on the
reading it, he changed almost into another man.

1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon
nim, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet
a lady.

2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the ever-
lasting displeasure of the king, who had even
tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will)
tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly)
with you.

1 Lord. When you have spoken it, ’tis dead, and|
I am the grave of it.

2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewo-|
man here in Florence, of a most chaste renown ;
and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her
honour: he hath given her his monumental ring,
and thinks himself made in the unchaste composi-
tion.
1 Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion; as we
are ourselves, what things are we!

2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And asin the
common course of all treasons, we still see them
reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred
ends; so he, that in this action contrives against
his own nobility, in his proper stream o’erflows
himself.?

1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable? in us, to be|
trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not
then have his company to-night ?

2 Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted
to his hour.

. Lord, That approaches apace: I would gladly
nave him see his company’ anatomized ; that he
might take a measure of his own judgments,
wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he
come ; for his presence must be the whip of the
other.

1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of
these wars ?

2 Lord. J hear, there is an overture of peace.

1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

2 Lord. What will count Rousillon do then ?
will he travel higher, or return again into France ?

1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not
altogether of his council. : |

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a
great deal of his act.

1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, |
fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to
Saint Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, |
with most austere sanctimony, she accomplished :|
and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature}
became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan

|

1) Crafty, deceitful.
2) i.e, Betrays his own secrets in bis own talk,
3) Here, as elsewhere, used adverbially,

of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this justified ?

1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own let-
ters; which makes her story true, even to the point
of her death: her death itself, which could not be
her office to say, is come, was faithfully confirmed
by the rector of the place.

2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ?

1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations,
point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

2 Lord. | am heartily sorry, that he’ll be glad
of this. .

1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us
comforts of our losses !

2 Lord. And how mightly, some other times, we
drown our gain in tears! The great dignity, that
nis valour hath heré acquired for him, shall at home
be encountered with a shame as ample.

1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled
yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be
proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our
crimes would despair, if they were not cherish’d
by our virtues.—

Enter a Servant.

low now? where’s your master ?

Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of
whom he hath taken a solemn leave ; his lordship
will next morning for France. The duke hath of-
fered him letters of commendations to the king.

2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful
there, if they were more than they can commend.

Enter Bertram.

1 Lord, They cannot be too sweet for the king’s
tartness, Here’s his lordship now. How now, my
lord, is’t not after midnight ? ,

Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen busi-
nesses, 2 month’s length a piece, by an abstract of
success: I have conge’d with the duke, done my
adieu with his nearest: buried a wife, mourned for
her; w rit to my lady mother, I am returning: en
tertained my convoy; and, between these main
parcels of despatch, effected manv nicer needs :
the last was the greatest, but that I have not
ended yet.

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and

this morning your departure hence, it requires
haste of your lordship.
Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fear-
ing to hear of it hereafter: But shall we have this
dialogue between the fool and the soldier ?——
Come, bring forth this counterfeit module -S he ha
deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier,

) Lord, Bring him forth: [Exeunt Soldiers. ] he
las sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserv’d it, in
usurping Mis spurs® so long. How does he earry
LiLITISe Li ?

ae rd. q hay told your lordship already: the
stor Ks carr) him. But, to answer you as you
roe ne yaaenrtna h weeps, like a wench that
nad shea her milk: he hath confessed himself

Morgan, whom he sccm i — Mg a

S

ny 1 a friar, from the
time of his remembrance, to this very instant dis
aatar Pe okie Ba uN 1}
aster of his setting 1 the stocks: And what think

you he hath confessed ?

Ber, Nothing of me, has he?

Oo ast Pe : . : . : .

2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be
— fanoe if e : :
read to his face: if your lordship be in’t, as, I -be-

ts} or eomapanion, (5) Model, pattern
6) An allusion to the degradation | re

’ > ° . = s Chic Ol a y
by hacking off his spurs, ~ fa knight

~Scene III. ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 545

lieve you are, you must have the patience to|not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to

hear it. ‘corrupt him to a revolt. What say you to this?
; ?

Re-enter Soldiers, with Parolles. wie ees

Par. | beseech you, let me answer to the parti-

Ber. ; A plague upon him! muffled! he can say cular of the intergatories:* Demand them singly.

nothing of me: hesh f huish | 1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain?
1 Lord. Hoodman comes!—Porto tarlarossa, | aw I know him: he was a botcher’s ’prentice
1 Sold. He calls forthe tortures ; What will you|!" Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting
say without ’em ? the aedl if’s fool with child; a dumb innocent,®

Par. 1 will confess what I know without con-|“™! could not say him, nay.
straint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no [Dumain lifts up his hand in anger.
more. Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands ;

1 Sold. Bosko éhimurcho. though I know, his brains are forfeit to the next

2 Lord. Bobdlibindo chicurmurco. le that falls,
1 Sold. You area merciful ceneral:—Our general} | Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Flo-
bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of aj/ence’s camp!
note. | Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.
Par. An truly, as I hope to live. | 1 Lerd. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall
1 Sold. First de id of him how many horse the| ear of your lordship anon.
duke is strong. What say you to that? 1 Sold. What is his reputation with the duke?
Par. Five or six thousand: but very weak ar Par. The duke knows him for no other but a
unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and|P0°r officer of mine ; and writ to me this other day,

the comman cl rs ver¥v poor rogues, upon my repu- Lo turn hum ut o’ the b ind: I think, ] have his let-

tation and credit, and as I hope to live. ler in my pocket,
1 Sold, Shall | set down your answer so? 1 Sold. Marry, we'll se rpm
Par. Do: I'll take the sacrament on’t, how and Par. In gooa sadness, I do not know; either it
which way you will. is there, or it is upon chia oi the duke’s other
Ber. All’s one tohim. Whata past-saving slav letters, in my tent,

is this!

Ne l. Her us : here’s a paper ? Shall I read
1 Lord. You are deceived, my lord: this is'!

|

Pear. I do not know, if rt be it, or no.
i

|

l

 

monsieur Parolles, the g nts rist, (that w
his own phrase,) that had the whole | ic’ of s. Our interpreter does it well.
war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in t ; dr xcellently, J
chape? of his dagger. Sold. Dian. The count’s a fool, and full of
2 Lord. I will never trust a man again, for keep- F he
ing his sword clean; nor believe he can have ever\ Par. That is not the duk Boy I, Sir $ that is an
ching in him, by wearing his apparel neatly. iveruusement to a proper ma | Florence, one
| Meld Wolk thats nt down. DD , to take heed of the Braces ment of one count
Par. Five or six thousand horse. I said.—I will Rousilion, a | olish idle boy, but, for all that, very
say true,—or thereabouts, set down,—for Ill speak TUNIS: | pray you, sir, pul it up again.
traf 1 Sold. Nay, Ull read it first, by your favour,
] Lord He’s very near the t uth it thie Par. Nii mcaning in’t, l protest, was very
- he : ii if - " a Se : : acted . ¥ | oe Me ae 3 . E iis
Ber. But Il con him no thangs for i, ih tne ha-|" + oe Of h “ of the m pe for I knew the
ture he delivers it young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy ;
Per. Poor roqucs. I pray you, say who 1s a whale to virginity, oan devours up all
A . " : ; i A . a). sh i 4 . da q
1 Sold. Well, that’s set down. ine Iry at hinds. , ee
Par. I humbly thank you, sir: a truth’s a truth Ber. D umnal i hese _ s rogue! '
a ’ : ; 3 Le senpdiete Hy Le ;
the rogues are marvellous poor. L Sold. Wh — oS s oaths, bid him drop
; " oe . oral l pe
1 Sold. Demand of him, of what strength they of p™ ’ t take it; 1
. . . -. . Yer he ecores. he naue .
are afoot. What say you to that. oAJECT HE SCOFES, ‘ ncver pays be score;
Par ty my trot . sir. if | were to live this pre- Half won, 1s match well made j match, and well
° ‘ ; ts ts A a ‘ ‘ ‘ } is ae 7
Gon ll ders 4 . a ia ‘i 7] rewu:
sent hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio a He ne'er naus after-debls. take it b
hundred and fifty; Sebastian so many, Corambus _ficewrsigy ae: te dee Pg tage. a he ee
so many, Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodo- Ind say, a soldier, ‘Di un, told thee this
: Men are to mell w ‘ith, be 4 are nel lo kiss :

wick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each: mine)*, i ;
own ‘comp iny. Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two For count of this, the count’s a fool, I know ul,
V } a9 _ i ng | ee Sweeney Paras ’ bn , I ferre yf / }, : ol ; 5 ;
hundred and fifly each: so that the muster-file, Wh ae a .e _ ne ae ome
rotten and scund, upon my life, amounts not to fil- A RENE; G2 BO CON @ to the soe oad
7° PAROLLES.

teen thous: und poll ; half of which dare not shake

the snow from off their c issocks,? lest they shake Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, wita
themselves to pieces. this rhyme in his forehead.
Ber. What shall be done to him. 2 Lord. This ts your devoted friend, sir, the

1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. De-|manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier.
mand of him my conditions,* and what credit I} Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat,
have with the duke. and now he’s a cat to me.

1 Sold. Well, that’s set down. You shall de- | Noa. 3 perceive, sir, by the ceneral’s looks,
mand of him, whether one captain Dumain be i’) we shall be fain to hang you.
the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation t Par. My life, sir, in any case: not that I am
with the duke. what his valour, honesty, and ex-j\afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I
pertness in wars; or whether he thinks, it were| would repent out the remainder of nature: let me

™ . . i
(1) Theory. (2) The point of the seabbard. | (5) For interrogatories. (6) A natural fool.
(3) Cassock then signifieda horseman’sloosecoat.| (7) ¢. ¢. A match w ell made is half won; make
, ‘4) |
“

Disposition and character. lyour + mati therefore, but make it well,SRS ae ee orem

   
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
   
   
    
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   

 

D346 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act IV

live, sir, in a dungeon, 1’ the stocks, or any where, {ofall your friends. __ [Uninuffling him.
so I may live. So, look about you; Know you any here ?
1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, soyou con-| Ber. Good morrow, noble captain.
fess freely ; therefore, once more to this captain} 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles,
Dumain: You have answered to his reputation with} 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain.
the duke, and to his valour: What is his honesty?! 2. Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my
Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister ;!|lord Lafeu? 1 am for France. ;
for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus.? He| 1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy
rofesses not keeping of oaths ; in breaking them, |of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfofthe count
e is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with} Rousillon? an I were nota very coward, I'd compel
such volubility, that you would think truth were alitof you; butfare you well. [£ae. Ber. Lords, &c
fool: drunkenness is his best virtue ; for he will be} 1 Sold. You are undone, captain: all but your
swine-drunk ; and in his sleep he does little harm, }scarf, that has a knot on’t yet.
save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know| Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot?
his conditions, and lay him in straw. Ihave but} 1 Sold. If you could find out a country where
little more to say, sir, of his honesty : he has every |but women were that had received so much shame,
thing that an honest man should not have; what|you might begin ansimpudent nation, Fare you

an honest man should have, he has nothing. lwell, sir; Iam for France too; we shall speak of
1 Lord. I begin to love him for this. iyou there. [ Exit.

Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A| Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
pox upon him for me, he is more and more a cat. "would burst at this : Captain Pll be no more ;

1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? But I will cat and drink, and sleep as soft

Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the As captain shall : simply the thing I am
English tragedians,—to belie him, I will not,—and|Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
more of his soldiership I know not ; except, in that Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass,
country, he had the honour to be the officer at a. That every braggart shall be found an ass,
place there call’d Mile-end, to instruct for the;Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
doubling of files: I would do the man what honour Safest in shame! being fool’d, by foolery thrive!
I can, but of this I am not certain. There’s place, and means, for every man alive.

1 Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far that: Pil after them. [ Exit.
the rarity redeems him.
Ber. A pox on him! he’s a cat still. SCENE I} —l 10 ‘ nee. l room in the Widow’s
1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, 1] “2! Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana.
need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt.| 77? That you may well perceive I have not
Par, Sir, for a quart d’ecu* he will sell the fee-| wrone’d You.
‘ = ;

simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and|Qye of the ereatest in the Christian world
cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual) sjaJ| be my surety : fore whose throne, ’tis needful

succession for it perpetually. . |Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel:
1 Sold. What’s his brother, the other captain! Pjmo was. I did him a desired office
in? a ® i Le’ t
Penns iS ned fad ack hi c > |Dear almost as his life; which gratitude
i Sold, Wi Tein 4 asx Dim Of me } Through flinty Tartar’s bosom would peep forth,
er, tem aes And answer, thanks: I duly am inform’d,

Par. E’en a crow of the same nest; not altogether] tj, crace is at Marseilles: to which place
so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great! Wo have convenient convoy. You must know
deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward,|] am sunnosed dead: the arene breaking ;
yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: In|\7y husband hies him home: where, heaven aiding
a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, incoming| anq by the leave of my good lord the kin ng
i ‘ ys ‘ i , & iy

on he h cramp. re?
he as the om ’ We’ll be, before our welcome,
1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake| pyjy Gent) /
to betray the Florentine ? 'y a «aa ay
‘ : : ou never had a servant, to whose trust
Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count) your business was va endinre
id J ’ | our DUSINCSS Was Inore weicoine,
Rousilhon. ), Hel
el. Nor you, mistress

1 Sold, Vll whis rit » general. and knowlr -
+ ae hisper with the general, and know| pyer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
“ ase ry.
. lo recompense your love ; doubt :
Se . Kthe : . ; ; doubt not, but Heaver
] : iat Pil no more drumming; a.plague of all/ ath brought me up to be your daughter’s dower
drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to be-| 4g it hath fated her to be my motive? :
guile the supposition’ of that lascivious young boy) 4 yq helper to a Sadia 1 Med gt
° 1. - . ¥ Id i Spi ‘ >| strance .
the count, have I run into this danger: Yet, who) Piast ean euch ewer see ee ee ee
auld have « That can such sweet use make of what they hate
i ; have suspected an ambush where I was)when saucy® trustine of the cozen’d t] he au,
taken ! ide Se ee : end thoughts
1 Sold. There is “emedy. si ’ inde. Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play
1 Sold, There 1s no remedy, sir, but you must With what it loaths, for that which is away:
die : the general says, you, that have so traitorously | p ,4 cannes Of Chin ae i . vod Di. ay :
discovered the secrets of your army, and made such} {jnder my poor instructions yet must fee’
g > 2 . : “d . , | ‘ . | 7
pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can|Somethine in my behalf.” : Une!
serve the world for no honest use; therefore you) pPjq, > : —
must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. IGo with your impositions,* I am }
Par. O Lord, sir ; let me live, or let me see my|y} pane aE —
death! ; \“ pon your will to suffer.
‘. ! He i Yet seov v
1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave|pit with the word. the ti fF Pray YOU,——
1e word, the time will bring on summe

When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns
a

Let death and honesty

(1) ¢. e. He will steal any thing however trifling,

from any place however holy. ad ini
ts} The Centaur killed by Hercules. 5} etn ” Pb) La ivi
3) The fourth part of the smaller French crown. (7) i.e. An honest deat (8) Con nani
1 6. st death, 8) Commands.Scene I. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, 247

And be as sweet as sharp. We must away ; ‘be jade’s tricks; which are their own right by the
Our wagon is prepar’d, and time revives us: law of nature. exit,
Ills well that ends well ; still the fine’s' the crown;, Jaf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.’
Whate’er the course, the end is the renown. [Exe.| Count. So he is. My lord, that’s gone, made
SCENE V.—Rousillon. 4 room in the Countess’s himself much sport out of him: by his authority he
Tle, ‘Baie a Clon, remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his
dace. Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. | sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs
Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a| where he will.
snipt-taffeta fellow there ; whose villanous saffron? | Laf. 1 like him well: *tis not amiss: and ] was
would have made all the unbaked and doughy|about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady’s
youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-|death, and that my lord your son was upon his re-
law had been alive at this hour; and your son|turn home, I moved the king my master, to speak
here at home, more advanced by the king, than by|in the behalf of my daughter ; which, in the mino-
that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. " |rity of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gra-
Count. I would, I had not known him! it was|cious remembrance, did first propose : his high-
the death of the most virtuous gentiewoman, that/ness hath promised me to do it: and, to stop up
ever nature had praise for creating: if she had par-|the displeasure hi hath conceived against your son,
taken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship
of a mother, I could not have owed her a more) like it?
rooted love. Count. With ve ry much content, my lord, and I
Laf. "Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady: we/W ish it happily effected.
may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such! Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles,
another herb. of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he
Cio. Indeed. sir, she was the swect-marjoram of) will be here to-m:rrow, or 1 am deceived by him
i , that in such intellic once hath seldom failed.
Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave, they Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him
ere I die. I have |: tters, that my son will be here
at Nebuchadnezzar. sir, I have|to-night: I shall bu seech your lordship, to remain
not much skill in grass. with me till they meet together,
Laf. Whether dost thou pr if thyself: a knave, Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what man-

I
or, rather the herb ol grace.

ora fool? . ners | might safely | ¢ admitted.
Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman’s service, and a} Count. You néec but plead your honourable
knave at a man’s. privilege,
Laf. Your distin ‘tion ? Laf. Lady, of tha! I have made a bold charter ;
Clo. 1 would cozen the man of his wife, and do) but, [ thank my Goc, it holds yet.
his service. : da Re- nter Clown.
af { ri yer } : is Ser ‘o Ir.
deed ai ea imme le atta ai Clo, O madam, y \der’s my lord your son with
Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, : paten ol velvet on face ; whether there be = =
to do her service. under it, or no, the ve i et knows ; but tis a goodly
Laf. 1 will subscribe for thee; thou art both parce - velvet ; his en cheek = S cheek of two
: ; ’ nile and a half. but his right cheek is worn bare.
knave oo Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good

Clo. At your service. a
I 4 No. ' ivery of honour; so, belike, is that.

Ail. iO, NO, UY. if ce 2 . a a
Clo. W h if o. But it is your carbonadoed® face.

0 ny, Sir, ; . - .

one ; : af. Let us go see your son, I pray you ; IL long
. Jd t

oe

f

at

—_—

<
~~“ =

ee oe. nn? to talk with the younr noble soldier.
Las. = ~ overs er ed i. tJ Clo. ’Faith, there’s a dozen of ’em, with delicate
Clo. | LILh, BIr, He iMan LO enna ne : yut his Ane hats. and most courteous fi athers, which enw
piso my is more Mier in l ral iy } ert the } ead, an i ne d at e,erv man. [Exreunt,
Laf. Wh prince is that? :
Clo. The black prince, §1 f the prin of a

darkness; a

Laf. Hold thee, there’s my purse: I give ther ACT V
r ; ~ 4} : :
L

      
 

not this to suggest thee tron thy master thou talkest
of: serve him still. SCENE L—Marseilics. 4 street. Enter Helena,
Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always Widow, and Diana, with two attendants.
loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever) Jyel, But this excceding posting, day and night,
keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince Of) wjyst wear your spirits low: we cannot help it ;
the world, let his nobility remain in his court. 1) Rut, since you have made the days and nights as
am for the house with the narrow gate, which | : one. :
take to be too little for pomp to enter: some, that) [> wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
humble themselves, nay ; but the many will be too’ pe pold, you do so grow in my requital,
chill and tender: and they'll be for the flows ry W@y,) As nothing can unroot \ou. [n happy time ;——
that k ads to the br ad grat , al d ine gr il ure. ister caiteaile hetstnaees®
Laf. Go thy wavs. | be in Lo be a-weary ol thee: : ;
and I tell thee so before, b 1 would not fall) This man may help me | » his majesty’s cr, .
out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be If he would spend his power.—God save you, sir.

Gent. And you.
hall| Hel. Sir, 1 have seen you in the court of France,
Gent. I have been so:ietimes there.

(1) End. ee
(2) There was a fa hion of using yellow starc (:
for bands and rues, to which Lafeu alludes, aid
(3) i. e. Rue. (4) Seduce. .

LTICKS,

well looked to, without any
Clo. If I put any tricks upon ’em, sir, th

I

5) Mischievously unh=ppy, waggish.
6) Scotched like a piece of meat for the gridiron,
7) A gentleman Falconer.CMRI ree,

248

Hel. 1 do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
From the report that goes upon your goodness ;

And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,

Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use of your own virtues, for the which
I shall continue thankful.
Gent. What’s your will ?

He!, That it will please you

To give this poor petition to the king ;
And aid me with that store of power you have,
To come into his presence.
Gent. The king’s not here.
el. Not here, sir ?

Gent. Not, indeed ;
He hence remov’d last night, and with more haste
Than is his use.

id. Lord, how we lose our pains!

Hel. All’s well that ends well; yet;

Though time seem so advérse, and means unfit.—
I do beseech you, whither is he gone ?

Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon ;
Whither I am going.

Hel. I do beseech you
Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand ;
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it:
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

ery
; aly

Gent. This Pll do for you. |

Hel. And you shall find yourself to be Well
thank’d,

Whate’er falls more.—We must to horse again: —

Go, go, provide.

SCENE II.—Rousillon. The inner court of the
Countess’s Palace. Enter Clown and Pa
Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, sive my lord

this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better |
to you, when I have held familiarity with freshe:
clothes ; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune’
moat, and smell somewhat strone of her strone
displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune’s displeasure is but sluttish,
if it smell so strong as thou speakest of: ] will
henceforth eat no fish of fortune’s buttering,—

Pr’ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir: ]
spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will
stop my nose; or against any man’s metaphor,.—
Pr’ythee, get thee further.

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh, pr’ythee, stand away; A paper from
fortune’s close-stool to give to anobleman! Look.
here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu.
Here is a pur of fortune’s, sir, or of fortune’s cat.
(but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the un-
clean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says.

is muddied withal: Pray you, sir, use the carp a

2

you may ; for he looks like a poor, decayed, incve-|T

nivus, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his dis
tress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to
your lordship. [ Exit Clown. |

Par. My lord, lam a man whom fortune hath!
cruelly scratched,

Laf. And what would’you have me to do? tis!

al

1) You need not ask :—here it is.
2) Reckoning or estimate.
3) Completely, in its full extent.

4) So in As you like It:—to have ‘seen muchlall reco]

   

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act V.

[too late to pare her nailsnow. Wherein have you
‘played the knave with fortune, that she should
scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and
would not have knaves thrive long under her ?
There’s a quart d’ecu for you: Let the justices
make you and fortune friends ; I am for other busi-
ness,

| Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one sin-
gle word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you
shall ha’t ; save your word.!

Par. My name, my good lord, 1s Parolles,
| Laf. You beg more than one word, then,.—Cox’
my passion! give me your hand:—How does your
drum ?

Par. O my good lord, you were the first that
found me.

Luf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that
yst the C.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in
some grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon
me at once both the office of God and the devil ?
one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee
out. [7'rumpets sound.] The king’s coming, I know

by his trumpets.—Sirrah, inquire further after me :
[ had talk of you last night: though you are a foo
and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow.

2) i .

Par. 1 praise God for you.

SCENE III.—The same
Dn.

[Exeunt,

1 room in the Coun

tess’s Palace. Flourish. Enter King, Coun

tess, Lafeu, Lords, Gentlemen, guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem*®
Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
\s mad in folly, lack’d the sense to know
Lier estimation home

Count. Tis past, my liege
\nd | beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done the blaze of youth ;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason’s force,
O’erbears it, and burns on.

My honour’d lady,
} nd forgotten all :
We i} re uy

ce aa ay pareaiges we a - nt upon him,

Laf. This I must say,—~

t I beg my pardon,—The young lord’
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady,
Unence oi mighty note ; but to himself =
, L Wro! ofall: he lost a wife,

beauty did astonish the survey

fT ric] Leyes :* hose word: ills irs took captive,
\\ lear perfection, hearts that scorn’d to serve,
Hy mm y { Id mustre S

King, Praising what is lost,

u e remembrance dear.——Well, call him
We are reconcil’d, and the first view shall kill
All repetition :'—Let him not ask ou: pardon ;

ihe nature of his great offence is dead,
(nd deeper than oblivion do we bury
‘he incensing relies of it: let him approach
\ stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So ’tis our will he should.

Gent. [ shall, my liege,
[ Exit Gentleman.
r daughter? have

’

King. What says he to you
you spoke ?

and to have n ‘thing, is to have rich eves and poor
hands.’ :

(5) 2. e. The first interview shall put an end te
fecuion of the past,Scene ITI.

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 249

e

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high-|Of what should stead her most?

ness,
King. Then shall we have a match.
letters sent me,
That set him high in fame.

Enter Bertram.
La}. He looks well on’t.
King. I am not a day of season,!
For thou may’st see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: But to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way ; so stand thou forth,
The time is fairagain, —
Ber. My hich-repent
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

King.

 

All is whole;
Not one word more of the consumed time,
Let’s take the instant by the forward t p;
For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can eflect them: You remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my lie ve: at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my h {
Durst m ike too bok a he ri ld of my Lol
Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his scornful perspéctive did lend me,
Which warp’d the line of every other fa
Scorn’d a fair colour, or ex; s’d it stol’!
Extended or contracted all p: rt
To a most hideous object: Thence it «

That she, whom all men prais’d, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov’d, v in!
The dus’ that did offend it.

King. Well excus’d:
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores awa
From the great compt: But love, Col Loo |
Like a remorseful pardon slowly « ed,

To the great sender turns a sour « neé
Crying, That’s good that’s i faul
Make trivia] price of us things 1
Not knowing them, until we |
On displeasures, to
yur tr
wn love } cri :
: ful h
se th sweet H
Send forth y
The main con
To ses our wico
Count. Which }
i} ven, |
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nat »

Laf. Come on, my son, in\ nmy ST

Must be digested, give a fav YOu,

To sparkle in the irits of 1

That she may quickly « nT I :
And évery hair th ’s on’t, Helen, .
Was a sweet creature: suchat I

The last that e’er I took her leave at cou

I saw upon her finger.

Ber.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for min

eve. °

While I was speaking, oft w
This ring was mine: and,
I bade her, if her fortunes ever
Necessitied to help, that by this token

1s fastened to’t.—
when I gav
i

at Le

I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave he
(1) é. e. Of uninterrupted rain.

“aults repented of to the utmost.
n the sense of unengaged.

he philosopher’s stone.

> es of

l have

Ber.
Howe’er it
lhe ring

Count,
seen her wear it;
life’s rate.

Laf. I am sure, I saw her wear it.

Ber. You a iv’d, my lord, she never saw it,
n Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp’d in a paper, itain’d the name

My gracious sovereign,
pleases you to take it so,

was nhever her

Son, on my life,
and she reckon’d it

. 7
re Gece

whit h CoO

uy
Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
I stood ingae’d:? but when I had subscrib’d
To mine own fortune, and inform’d her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honour
As she | i] ce the overture, she ceas’d,
In he is| oO! nd would neveg
R
Plutus himself,
| the tinct { multiplying medicine,‘
Hath not in nature’s mystery more science,

1s mine, twas Helen’s,
n, if you know

‘ i 1a with yourself,
Cont ‘twas hers, and by what rough enforce-
' ; ll’ the saints to surety,
ut it trom her linger,
| S it { In bed,

VV he ‘ ney ( ce. } or sent it us
/ : . never saw if,
Aing. Thou speak’st it falsely, as I love mine
And} et « ‘tural fears to come into me,
\ | | fair t out: If it should prove
inan,—’twill not prove so:—
\ ' | rie theu didst hate her deadly,
And s : ch nothing, but to close
I] i 1win Dp to b lieve,
\i ke him away.—
ice Bertram.
r fall,
y wilh him ;—
1] prove
\
i | nce,
\ cuarded.
;
, I Modan’ | kings
( vercign,
\\ , or no, I know not;
H
ves,® come short
: K a\*
» by the fa ace and speech
is, | know,
Is | tendit business looks in her
With an import: e; and she told me,
ly weet 4 he | f at did concern
yi n with | elf,
King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to
ry me. wh his wife was dead, J blush to say it,
A count Rousillon a widows.
vows are forfeited to me, and my honowr’s
1 to } He st from Florence, taking no

lo his country for pustice :
. That you have the proper consciousness
of your own actions,

rc \ ) ‘- , ‘
J JSU-SLU ECS,
(6) Post-stage250 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Act V,
Grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise|Conferr’d by testament to the sequent issue,
a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. | Hath it been ow’d and worn. This is his wife ;
DIANA CAPULET. | That ring’s a thousand ha :
Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and ,, i"s- Methought, you said

You saw one here in court could witness it.
| Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument; his name’s Parolles,
Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be,
King. Find him, and bring him hither.
Ber. What of him ?
He’s quoted’ for a most perfidious slave,
| With all the spots o’ the world tax’d and debosh’d ,
| Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth:
|Am I or that, or this, for what he’ll utter,
That will speak any thing ?
King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to| King. She hath that ring of yours
you, | Ber. I think, she has: certain it is, | lik’d her
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, | And boarded her i’ the wanton way of youth:
Yet you desire to marry.—What woman’s that ? she BON her distance, re 2 yom - me,
Accainge Y eagerness W i¢@r restrain
Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow and Diana. As all panedtwetats in fancy’s’ Sede .
Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet ; Her insuit coming with her modern grace?
My suit, as I do understand, you know, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring,
And therefore know how far [ may be pitied. (nd I had that, which any inferior might
Wid. 1 am her mother, sir, whose age and honour| At market-price have bought.

toll him :! for this, ’ll none of him.
King. The heavens have thought well on thee,
Lafeu,
To bring forth this discovery.—Seek these suitors :—
Go, speedily, and bring again the count.
[Exeunt Gentleman, and some attendants. |
I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch’d.
Count. Now, justice on the doers!

Enter Bertram, guarded.
; =

Both suffer under this complaint we bring, Dia. I must be patient
And both shall cease,? without your remedy, You, that turn’d off a first so noble wife,

King. Come hither, count. Do you know these|May justly dict me.® I pray you yet,

women ? (Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband, )

Ber. My lord, I neither can, nor will deny send for your ring, I will return it home,
But that I know them: Do they charge me further ?| And give me mine again.

Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife rer. I have it not.

Ber. She’s none of mine, my lord. — | King, What ring’ was yours, I pray you?

Dia. If you shall marry, Dia. Sir, much like
You give away this hand, and that is mine ; The same upon your finger.
You give away heaven’s vows, and those are mine ;|_ King. Know You this ring? this ring was his of
You give away myself, which is known mine ; | ate.
For I by vow am so embodied yours, | Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.
That ske which marries you, must marry me, | king. The story then goes false, you threw it him
Either both, or none. {Out of a casement. "

Laf. Your reputation [7 Bertram.} comes too) Dia.
short for my daughter, you are no husband for her. |
Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate erea-|

I have spoke the truth.

Enter Parolles.

ture, | Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
Whom sometime I have laughed with ; let your) King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts
highness ; :

you.——
Is this the man you speak of?
Dia. Ay, my lord.

Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,
Than for to think that I would sink it here.
King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge
friend, Vou, r
Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your| Not fearing the displeasure of your master
_ honour, ee (Which, on your just proceeding, P’ll keep off, )
Than in my thought it lies ! By him, and by this woman here, what know you?
Dia. co . Good my lord, | Par. So please your majesty, my master hath
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think been an honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had
He had not my virginity. in him, which gentlemen have.
a Ole is’ E ot r. . :
King. What say’st thou to her 7 King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love
er. She’s impudent, my lord; ‘this woman?
maa: a common gamester to the camp. Par. ’Faith, sir, he did love her; But how?
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord: if I were ¢o, King. How, I pray you?
He might have bought me at a common price : Par. He did love her, sir

! a omm *, as a gentleman loves
Do not believe him: O, behold this ring, a woman.

ore high respect, and rich validity,* | King. How is that ?
oe ack a parallel; yet, for all that, | Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
Ha it to a commoner o’ the camp, King. As thou art a knave, and no knaye:—
C i . H oid | What an equivocal companion? js this?
> > .e 6g ; ° | * ‘ .
Ge ount. _ He blushes, and ’tis it ; | Par. 1 am a poor man, and at your majesty’s
six preceding ancestors, that gem }command, : F
) Fey toll for him. (2) Decease, die. | 7) Love’s.
(3) Gamester, when applied to a female, then| (8) Her solicitation concurring with her appear-

meant a common woman. |

(4) Value. (5) Noted. _ (6) Debauched, |

ance of being common.

(9) May justly make me fast, (10) Fellow.Scene III. ALL’S WELL TH
Laf. He’s a good drum, my lord, but a naughty|
orator.
Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? |
Par. Faith, I know more than Pll speak.
King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know’st
Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did ¢g
tween them, as | said: but more than that, he loved
her.—for, indeed, he was mad for her, and tal
Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not
what: yet I was in that credit with them at that
time, that I knew of their going to bed: and of
other motions, as promising her marriage, and
things that would derive me ill will to ik of,
therefore | will not speak what I kn
King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou
canst say they are married: Bu
in thy evidence: therefore stan
This ring, you say, was yours ?
Dia, ; ; Ay, my good lord.
King. Where did you buy it? or who
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not | it.
King. Who lent it you?
Dia. It was not le
King. Where did you find it then
Dia, I fou
King. If it were yours by none of all th
How could you ive it him?

;

» be-

ked of

OW,

s} aw 4 "

LOU APL LOO Till
;

‘
i
| aside.-

re

nt me neither.
;

Dia. I never gave it him
a * ‘ ; ae .
Laf. T his woman 8 an easy wiove, mY iord: she

goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I cave it his first

Dia. It micht be yours, or hers, for aueht I know.

Kine. Take her away, I do not like her now:
To prison with her: and away with him.— _
Unless thou tell’st me where thou hadst this ring

Thou diest within this hour.

Dia,

King. Take her away.

Dia.

Kine. I think thee now mm

Dia. By Jove, if ¢ ver ] kere w man, ‘twas VOU.

Kine. W here fore hast thou

while?

Dia. Because he’s cuilty, and he is n
He knows, [ am no maid, and he’ll
I'll swear, I am a maid, and he kn
Great king, Lam no strumpet, by my lile;
I am either maid, or else this old man’s wile.

| Pointing to Lafeu.
Kine. She does abuse our ears;

)

I'll never

I'll put in bail, ms

SoOmece

uc¢ ‘ iin i} :

to prison with

her.
Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.—Stay, royal
om) [Exit Widow.

The jeweller, that owes? the ring, is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath abus’d me, as he knows himself,
Thouch yet he never harm’d me, here I quit }
He knows himself, my bed he hath defil’d ;
And at that time he got his wife with child :
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick ;
So there’s my riddle, One, that’s dead,
And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter Widow, with Helena.

iin

is quick;

Is there no cxorcist*

King.

)} Common woman.

,

) Enchanter,

(1) Too artful. (2
(3) Owns. (4

AT ENDS WELL,

Becuiles the truer office of mine eyes ?
Is’t real, that I see?
Hel, No, my good lord;
’Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.
Ber. Both, both; O, pardon!
Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid,
[ found you wondrous kind. There is your ring,
And, look you, here’s your letter; This it says,
When from my finger you can get this ring,
Ind are by me with child, &-—This is done:
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this
clearly, |
| love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.
Hel. If it appear not plain, and. prove untrue,

1’

Deadly divorce step between me and you! —
O, my dear mother, do I see vou living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon:
-Good Tom Drum, [Jo Parolles.] lend me a
handkerchief: So, I thank thee ; wait on me home,
I’ll make sport with thee; Let thy courtesies alone,
the are scurvy ones,

King. Letus from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow :—

If thou be’st yet a fresh uncropped flower,

[To Diana.
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
For lean gu that, by the honest aid,
Thou kept’st a wife herself, thyself a maid.—
Of that, and all the progress, more and less,

Resolvedly more leisure shall express :
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
Che bitter past, more welcome ts the sweet.
[ Flourish,
Advancing.
The king’s a bezgar, now the play is done:
ll is well-ende d, tf this srwit be won,

\
Th rf wore ¢ pre ss content : witch we will pay,
J

Vith stri lo please you, day exceed*rg day :
() he your p thience the n, and yours our parts he
Your rentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
{Exeunt,
—e. —
T play has many delightful seenes, thouga
not ficiently probable ; and some happy charac-

ters, though not new, nor produced by any deep
knowledge of human nature. Parolles is a boaster
ind a coward, such as has always been the sport

i

of the stage, but perhaps never raised more laugh-
ter or contempt than in the hands of Shakspeare.

cannot re concile my heart to Bertram ; aman
generosity, and young without
who marries Helen as a coward, and leaves
when she is dead by his un-
sneaks home to a second marriage, is ac-
cused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends
himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness.

The story of Bertram and Diana had been told
before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the
truth, scarcely merits d to be heard a second time

JOHNSON,

|
noble

truth:
het

kindness,

without

as a prollig ile:

| (5) %. e. Hear us without interruption, and take
jour parts, that is, support and defend us,( 252

  
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
     
   
    
  
  
  
 
 
   

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.
A Lord. ¢

CHARACTERS IN THE INDUCTION.

Christopher Sly, a drunken tinker. Persons in|,

Hostess, Page, ’P layers, IIuntsmen, > the Induc-| lo the Original Play of The Taming of a Shrew
onal i hon Giwitnts attending on lion. |; entered on the Stationers’ books in 1594, and
the Lord. | printed in quarto in 1607.

: ; 1 Lord
Baptista, a rich gentleman of Padua. SI d, &e
Vincentio, an old gentleman of Pi: ia Tap ster.
? 0, in lov itl Biance
Lucentio, son to Vincentio, in love with Bi phot Pag , Players, Huntsmen, &c.
Petruchio, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to
Katharina.

—>—_—.
suitors to Bianca.

Gremio,
Hortensio,

Tranio, 7
servants to Lucentio.
Bionde ilo, §

| PERSONS REPRESENTED,

| Alphonsus, a merchant of Athens.
| Jero bel, Duke of Cestus.

Grumio } ,
) bs Salearaha | Aurelius his son
: servants to Petruchio. . son, cs
Curtis, z . |Ferando, ( suitors to the daughters of Aw
Pedant, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio, Polidor ( phonsus.

Valeria, servant to Aurelius.
1

Katharina, the Shrew, )

> daurhters to Baptista, pons Semen i paren

Bianca, her sister, ( 6 d Phylotus, @ merchant who personates the Duke.

Widow. * )
is Ce
Eemelia, daught ers to Alphonsus.

, eS hviamn
Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants. att: nding on Phylema, )
Baptista and Petruchio Tv Fh pws Q .
; ’ Zt > Haberdashe r, and Se rvants to Ferando and

diphonsus
Scene, sometimes in Padu a, and sometimes

in Pe- Scene, Al hens ; and sometimes Ferando’s Country
truchio’s House in the Counir Y.

House.

 

| Vind horns. Enter a Lord Jrom hunting, with
Hunlsmen and Servents.

SCENE I.—Before an Alehouse on a Heath.| Lord. Wuntsm: an, I charge thee, tender well my

’ 4 ? " ?

Enter Hostess and Sly. h Ee :

PS, Drach” Merriman,— the poor cur is emboss’d,®
Sly. And couple Clowder with the dee p-mouth’d brach.
Fas seneer-yiit.in uth ay nou not, bey, how main r made it good
_ _J OU, balun, At the hedge corner, in the ecaldest ault ?
Flost. A pair OF 8-0CKs rogue ! ld not | the do ivan ty ease
Pe i utd me ef { Or twenty pou
Sly. Y’are a baggact the Sli Sare norogues:| j ;y, Whr. Beh na } | “om lord
E ae . ee ‘ ry, PCIDAN IS aS wood as he : .
Look j in the chronicle Ss, we came in with Richard He cricd upon it at i) } {| . -—
v a oes ! ried 1 nita e merest [oss
Conqueror. Therefore. paucas pacabris 3? let the] 4 vd tieinn | | ve kd out.the danileet «
wert slide: Sessa! tet bk i x'G out the dullest scent:
: en cc 5 Ariist me, tik iim for » bet or.
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have Lord. "Thou see eee es
acer \ , _ Lord. 'Th bart a fool if Behe o were as fleet,
‘ : i would esteem him worth a dozen s
Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy :—/p,, 1 ae ee
7 9 AB ort well, and look unto them all ;
Go to thy cold bed, and warm the e,> iT morro ra in te na t ) h nf } j
: -morrt | to hunt acain,
Host. 1 know my remedy, I must go fetch the 1 Hun. 1 il, ray lord
hirdboroug  Whatte he :
t ough.® pee | Lord. What's here ?

; one “ - r? 4
Sly. nied, or fourth, or fifth borouch. an-| doth Retbrantc? dead, or drunk 7 See,
swer him by law: I’ll no} budge an inch e r+ let ° WW. oe ese

\ In INCH, DOY ; | 2 Hun. He breathes vy lord: "ere
him come, and kindly, ey my ford: Were he not

warm’d with ale.

[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep.|This were a bed but ¢ ‘old to sleep so soundly,
| Lord. O monstrous beast ' how like
‘ s ike a swil
(1) Beat or knock. (2) Few words. ies! ; Re

(3) Be quiet. (4) Broke.

(5) This line and the sera; p of Spanis|
burlesque from an old pl: Ly called H
the Spanish Tragedy,

| Grim death, how foul and loath
118 used in|
lieronymo, or|

(6
t As

ome is thine image!

)

) An _ er whose authority equals a constable,
) Bite] (8) Strained,Induction.

Sirs, I will practse on this drunken man.——
What think you, if he were convey’d to bed,
Wrapp’d in sweet clothes, rings put upon his linger
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the begvar then for: himsell

1 Hun. Believe me, lord, | think he canno
choose.
2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him wl

he wak’d,

Even as a flattering dream, or worthies
fancy.

Then take him up, and manage well the jest :—
Carry him gently to my fairest

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:

Li rd.

Balm his foul head with warm « lled
And burn sweet wood to make the |
Procure mé music ready when

To make a duleet and a heavenly s |:

And if he chanee to sp
And, with a low submissive reveren
Say,—What is it your honour
Let one attend him with Sil
Full of rose-water, and
Another bear the ewer,' the third a dia
And say,—Will’t plea
hands ?
Some one be ready with a costly suit,
And ask him what apparel he will s :
Another tell him of his hounds and hors: .
And that his lady mourns at his dis

Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic ;

} ,
in. WU I

se your | TUship ¢ = 6Y

And, when he says he is—, say, that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly,’ gentle sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husb inde d with m vl ly.*
1 Hun. Mydord, t warrant you, we'll p!
part,
As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we ’ is
Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him ;
And each one to his office, when h |
[ Some bearoul diy. ff
Sirrah, go see what trumpet ’tis that .
[l ’
Belike, some noble rentlieman: that
Travelling some journey, to repose fim here.—
R -ent raeascry {
How now? who is it?
Serv. An if
Players that offer service to your lord
Lord. Bid them come ! —
Enter Players.
Now, fellows, you are welc
1 Play. We thank your honour
Lord. Do you intend to stay with m« -
2 Play. So please 5 Lt lord hij) LO Acc | Oul
duty.
Lord. With all my heart.—This fellow oJ

member,
Since once he play’d a farmer’s eldest son ;—
»T was where you woo'd t!
I have forgot your name ; ,
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform’d.
1 Play. I think, ’twas Soto that your h
"means.

]
Hounn
wm FCHLUcWwO

but. sure, that part

Lord. Tis very true ;—thou didst.it exce llent.—

Well, you are come to me in happy time ;
The rather for I have some sport in hand,

(1) Pitcher, (2) Napkin, (3) Naturally,

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

of beet:

Wherein your coming can assist me much,

here is a lord will hear you play to-night:
But I am doubtful of your modesties ;

Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour

(kor yet his honour never heard a play,)
you break Into some merry passion,

1} ae 1) es
nd him; for I tell you, sirs,
lt vou should smile, he grows impatient.

| Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain our

ic in the world.
rah, take them to the buttery,
And give them [friendly welcome every one:

1 want nothing that my house affords.—
[|Exveunt Servant and Players,
» ito B olomew my page,
| Vo a Servant.
\ l i 3 like a lady :
( unk ird’s chamber,
\ ' |  f sance,
vill win my love, )
rt le ty Nn,
I ladies
{ lished
i LO rij | him ao,
’ 1 iv { Lesy .
\ \ il command,
le wile,
| her love?
, 1 @ , tempting
I, > ‘
And with declining h a into hts bosom, -
Bid him shed tears, as being overjgy’d
l'o her noble lord restor’d to health,
\\ { e seven vears, hath esteemed him
No n and loathsome beggar :
\ ve | woman’s gif,
for of cor nded tears,
{no 1 will do well for such a shift:
heing close convey’d,
rce a watery eye.
‘ lesp i'd with all the haste thou canst .
At Lih giv more instructions. ——
{ Exit Servant.
[| ee ill well usurp the grace,
fa gwentlewoman:
[ | iim eallthe drunkard, husband ;
\ | n will Stay themselves from
\\ ) this simple peasant,
m: haply,* my presence
i vell ver-merry spleen,
Which rwise would grow into extremes.
[ Eaxeunt,
: wr line } her in the Lord’s house.
Sly ts discovered in a rich nightgown, with al-
ints ; ie@ with apparel, others with basen,
r, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord,
yf if ‘ a Se ant,

Sly. For Ged’s cake, a pot of small ale.

1 Serv. Will’t ph your lordship drink a cup
of elk?

’ Serv. Will’t please your honour taste of these
cons yea ?

3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-

day ?
Sly. Tam Christophero Sly; call not me—honour
I never drank sack in my life; an
‘if you give me any constUrves, give me conserves
*; Ne’er ask me what raiment Pll wear ; fog

nor lordship ;

(4) Moderation, (5) Perhaps,Senne a

 

 

 

O54 TAMING OF THE SHREW. Scene I
I have no more doublets than backs, no more stock-{And not a tinker, nor Christopheto Sly,—

ings than legs, nor no more shoes th: in feet; nay,}Well, bring our k idy hithe r to our sight;
sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as|And once again, a pot o’ the smallest ale,

my toes look through the overle athe r. 2 Serv. Will’t please your mightiness to wash
Lord, Heaven cease this idle humour in your your hands ?

 

 

honour ! | [Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin.
O, that a mighty man, of such descent, O, how we joy to see your wit restor? d! !
Of such possessions, and so high esteem, 10, that once more you knew but what you are!
Should be infused with so foul a spirit ! | These fifteen years you have been in a dream ;

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not)Or, when you wak’d, so w: ike’ d as if you sle pt.
I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Burton-heath;} Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay,? a goodly
by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by| nap.
transmutation a bear-herd, and now by prese nt} But did I never speak of all that time ?
profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hae ket, the fat} 1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words :—
ale wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she : Ly| For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
I am not fourteen pe nee on the score for sheer sie 'Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door ;
score me up for the lyingest knave mn hristendom. | And rail upon the hostess of the house
What, I am not bestraught:! Here’ |And say, you would present her at the leet,?
l Ser v. O, this it is that makes your r Indy mourn. | Because she broughtstone jugs and no seal’ d qui irts.
2 Serv. 0, this it is that makes your servants/S - ae s you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

droop. | Slu. Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun!) 3 Bove! VN hy, sir, you know no house, nor no
your house, such maid ;
As beaten hence by your strange Junacy. Nor no such men, as you have reeckon’d up,—
O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth: \s Stephe n Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from b; inishment, | And Peter Turf, and He nry Pimpernell ;
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams : An | twe nty more such names and men as these,
Look how thy servants do attend on thee, Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
Each in his office ready at thy beck. Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, “At i. Amen, ’
{ Music. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.
And twenty caged nig paitingulg »s do sing: Ent r the Page, as a lady, with attendants.
Or wilt thou sleep? we’ll have thee to a couch, Page. How fares mv meals ro )
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed Sly. Marry, I fare well : for here is cheer enough,
On purpose trimm’d up for Semiramis. Where is my wife ?
Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground :| Page. Here, noblelord ; What is thy will with her?
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trap; nd, | Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me—
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. | husband ?°
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar| My men should call me—lord: Iam your goodman,
Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt ? | Page. Mv husband and my lord, my lord and
Thy hounds shall m: uke the welkin answer them, hushand : :
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. [am your wife in all obedience,
1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course ; thy greyhounds| Sly. I know it well :—What must I call her?
are as oe, rs rd. Madam.
As breathed stags, ay, fleecter than the roe. | Sly. Al’ce madam, or Joan madam ?

2 Serv. Dost Su love pictures? we will fetch| Loru. Madam, and not!
thee straight
Adonis, painted by a running brook
And Cytherea all in sedges hid :

ng else; so lords eall
ladies.
Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream’d,

|
|
and slept

Which seem to move and wanton with her bre ath, |} Above some fifteen vear and more.

Even as the waving sedges play with wind. | Page. Ay, and the time seems thir ty unto me:
Lord. We’ll show thee Io, as she was a ma id; |Being all this time abandon’d from your bed,

And how she was beguiled ‘and sur, pris’d, Sly. ’Tis much ;——Servants, leave me and Ket

As lively painted as the deed was done.
3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny| Madam, undress you,

aione.<..

|

and come now to bed.

wood ; | Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds :|To pardon me yet for a ni: vht or two:
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, k Mr, if not so, until the sun be set:
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. iE or your siibeial ians have expre esly charg’ d,
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: |In peril to incur your former mal dy,
Thou hast a lady far more be autiful | That I should yet abse nt me from your bed:

Than any woman in this w aning age. i hope, this reason st and N {or my excuse,
] Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for} Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may h: irdly tarry so

 

thee, |long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams
Like envious ‘floods, o’er-ran her lovely face, again; I will therefore tarry, in de ‘spite of the flesh
She was the fairest creature in the world ; and the blood, =
And yet she is inferior to none.
Sly. Am Ia lord? and hi ive I such a }; idy ? Enter a Servant
Or do I dream? or have I dream’d till now .
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I spe: ak ; Serv. Your honour’s players hearing your
1 smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things :— amendment, “= ee
Upon my life, lama lord, indeed ; Are come to play a pleasant come dy,
: For so your doctors hold it very me as
(1) Distracted. (2) Faith, (3) Court-Icet, Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,viet I,

And melancholy is the nurse of fre nZy,

‘herefore, they thought it good you hear a pla}
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.

Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a
commonty' a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling-
trick ?

Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing

stuff.

Sly. What, household stuff ?

Page. It is a kind of history.

Sly. Well, we'll see’t: Come, madam wife, sit
by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne’er
be younger. | They sit down.

—<——

as. i
SCENE I[.—Padua A Publi

Lucentio and T)

Luc. Tranio, since—for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery Of arta
I am arriv’d for fruitful Le ly

The ple asant garden ot oviias It Li¥ °

And, by my father’s love and leave, am arm’d
With his good will, and thy good cor ny,
Most trusty servant, well approv’d in all ;

He re let us breaths , and I Lp] ily insti

A course of learning, and ingenious? studi
Pisa, renowniet d for vrave eitize ns,

Gave me my being, and my father first,

A merchant of great traffic throuch t]
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolit.

Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,

It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd,

To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue, and th it part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of h ippiness
By virtue specially to be achiev'd.
Tell me thy mind: for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come; as he that leaves
A shallow pl ish,?
And with sats

Tra. Mi perdonate,* gentle master
I am in all affected as yourse if:
Glad that you thus c ntinue vour resolv

to plunge him in the deep,
‘ty secks to quench his thirst

mine,

;

To suck the sweets of sweet pho iv
} | } ‘rT
Only, good master, while we do admire
hg ’ ; . ’
This virtue, and this moral disciplins

Let’s be no stoics, nor no stocks

Or so devote to Aristotle’s checks

As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur’d -

Talk logic with acquaintance that you have,

And practice rhetoric in your common talk:

Music and poesy use to quic ken® you;

The mathematics, and the metaphysics

Fall to them,

No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta

In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
Lue. Grame rcies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.

If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,

We could at once put us in readiness ;

And take a lodging, fit to entertain

Such friends, as time in Padua shall | reget.

But stay awhile: What company is this?
Tra. Master, some show,

‘en ;—

‘

(2) Ingenuous.
(4) Pardon me,
(6) Animate,

(1) For comedy,
3) Small piece of water.
5) Harsh rules,

' Ente r Bapt ista,

as you find your stomac hs serves you:

to welcome us to town.

TAMING OF THE SHREW. R5S

Ret

Katharina, Branea, Gremio, and

Hortensio. Lucentio end Tranio stand aside.

Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolv’d you know;
That is,—not to bestow my youngest daughter,
Before | have a husband for the elder:
lf either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well, and love you well,
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure,

‘re. To cart her rather: She’s too rough for me:

There, there, Habtienin: will you any wife ?

Kath, | pray you, sir, { To Bap. ] is it your wilt

l‘o make a stale’ of me amongst these mates ?
Hior. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no
mates for you, b
Unless vou were ot gentler, milder mould.
Kath. Vfaith, sir, you shall never need te fear ;
I wis,® it is not half way to her heart:
But, if it were, doubt not her care should be
l'o comb your noddle with a three-legg’d stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us!
Gre. And me too, good Lord!
h here is some good pastime
toward
| wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.
/ But in the other’s silence I do see
M > mild behaviour and sobriety
Peace, 7 th .
Ira. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your
Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What have I said,—Biancea, ret you in:
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca;
lor I will love thee ne’er the less, my girl.
| \ } y | tis best
Pu er in the eye,—an she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent,.—
sir, to your pl re huinbly I subseribe:
My ‘ks, and instruments, shall be my company ,
On th m to look, and practise by myself,
l Hark, Tranio! thou may’st hear Minerva
[ Aside,
i Ss Baptista, will you be so strange?
ry am I, that our good will effects
B \ ie!
G Why, will you mew’® her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,

And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
ap, nilemen, content ye; I am resolv’de—
Go in, Bianea. {Exit Bianea.

And for I know, she taketh most de light

In musi truments, and poetry,
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth.—If you, Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio, you,—know any such,

Prefer"! them hither; for to cunning’? men
I will be and liberal
To mine own children in good bringing-up ;
‘And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay ;
For I have more to commune with Bianea. | Exit.
| Kath. Why, and I trust, I may gotoo; MayI not?
What, shall I be appoint ted hours; as though, belike,
il knew not what to take e, and what to leave? Ha!
[ Exit.
Gre. You may go to the devil’s dam ; your gifts’®
ire so zood, here is none will hold you. Their love
Hortensio, but we may blow our
pele together, and fast it fairly out; our cake’s
dough on both sides. Farewell:—Y et, for the love

(8) Think. (9) Pet,
(11) Recommend.
learned, (13) Endowments,

very kind,

iis not so great,

) A bait or decoy.
Shut,
Knowing

())
)

(7
(]
(12)CF ORES

ES re

  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
   
    
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
    
  
 
 
  
     
  
   
 
 
  
  
     
 
 
  
 
     
    
    
  
   
     

 

a We ‘
2 RTRSY Ry a TE I :

 

e
256
I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any. mean

delights, [ will wish him to her father
Hor. So will I, signior Gremio: Buta word,

light on a fit man, to teach her that’ wherein she| trance.

   
     

 

TAMING OF THE SHREW. Act I.

Tra. Nay, then, ’tis time to stir him from his

S

I pray, awake, sir; If you love the maid,
I} Bend casey nes and wits to achieve her, Thus il

pry Though the nature of our quarrel yet never| stands:

rook’d parle, know now, upon advice,’ it touchet!

|
| Her Jie sister is so curst and shrewd,

us both, Feira we mé y yet again have access to our} That, till the father rid his hands of her,

fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca’s love, |
—to labour and effect one thing Enact.
Gre. What’s that, I pray ?

Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.
va ’

Gre, A husband! a devil.

Hor. I say, a husband.

Gre. I say, a devil: Think’st thou, Hortensio,
though her father be very rich, any man is so very
a fool to be married to hel!?

Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience,
and mine, to endure her loud alarums, why, man,
there be good fellows in the world, an a man could
light on them, would take her with all faults, and

money enough.

Gre. I cannot tell; but I had ke h
dowry with this condition,—to be whipped att
high-cross every morning.

Aor. ’Faith, as you say, there’s small choiee in
rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in]
makes us friends, it shall be soefar forth fri
maintained,—till by helping Baptista’s eldest
daughter to a fea set his youngest free fo
a husband, and then have to’! resh.—sweel bi
Beet ie ppy man beh dole!? H t) fast-
est, gets the ring. How say you, signior Gremi

Gre. Iam agreed: and ’would I had given h
the best horse in Padua’to begin his wooing,
would thoroughly woo her. wed her, and bed her,
and rid the house of her. Come on.

Exeunt Gi o and Hortensio.

Tra. [.Advancing.| I pray, sir, tell me,—Is it

possible
That love should of a sudden take such hold ?
Luc. O Tranio, till I found it to be true,

I never thoucht it possib! OF likely :
But see! while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness:
And now in plainness do confess to thee,—
That art to me as secret, and as dear
As Anna to the queen of Carthage was,—
Tranio, I burn, I pine, t perish, Pr inio
If I achieve not this young modest girl:
Counsel me, Tranio, for LI know thou canst:
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.

Tra, Master, it is no time to chide you now }
Affection is not. rated’ from the heart:

Iflove have touch’d you, nought remains but so,—|

Redime et captum quam queas minimo.
Luc. Gramercies, lad; gv forward: this contents :

The rest will comfort, for thy counsel’s sound,
Tra, Master, you eed so longly* on the maid,

Perhaps you mark’d not what’s the pith of all.
Luc. O yes, I saw sweet heauts in her face

Such as the da auchters of Agenor had

That made great Jove to humble him to her ha

W hen with his knees he kiss’d the Cretan strand.

‘ra. Saw youno more? mark’d you not, how
her sister

Began to scold; and raise up such a storm,

That mortal ears mi gh hs si ‘endure the din?
Lue. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,

And with her breath she did perfume the air

Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her.

1) Consideration, (2) Gain or lot.
; Driven out by ee ling, (4) Longingly,
5) Europa, (6) "Tis enough,

 

Master, your love must live a maid at home ;

| And jaa ‘fore has he closely mew’d her up,

| Because Re shall not be annoy’d with suitors.

| Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father’s he!

| But art thou not advis’d, he took some care

|To eet her cunning schoolinasters to instruet her?
Tra. Ay marry, am I, sir; and now ’tis plotted.
Luc. I have it, Tranio.
Tra. Master, for my hand,

Both our inventions meet and jump in one.
Luc. Tell me thine first.

Tra. ou will be schoolmaster,
A) undertake the f ching ol the maid:
i nat your device
Hue. It is: Mayit be done?
Z'ra. Not possible ; for who shall bear your part,
1 be in Padua here Vincentio’s son ?
i.cep house, and ply his book; weleome his friends ;
Visi ee COLE aa and banquet them ?
Luc. Basta;® content thee; for I have it full.
We have not yet been seen in any house ;
Nor 1} inguished Vv our laces,
fOr man, or master: then it follows t thus ;—
hou shalt be master, Tranio, in n Ly stead,
necp house, and port,’ and servants, as I should
I me other | ; some Florentine,
Some Ni politan, or mean man of Pj ian.
’Tis hateh’d, and shall be so:—Tranio, at once
nease tn - take my colour’d hat and cloak:
When Biondello comes, he waits on th @:
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue,
ira. So had you neec | They exchange habits,

ir, sith® it your ple asure is,

And I am tied to be obedient

For so your father charg’d me at our parting ;

se serviceable to my son, quoth he,
Although, I think, ’twas in another sense ;)

|{ am content to be Lucentio,

| Be cause so well I love L ucentio,

| Lue. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves :

|And let me be a sla to achieve that maid,

| Whose sudden sight t hath thrall’d my wounded eye.

| Enter Biondello,

| Here i a s the rogue.—Sirrah, where have you

ecn { '

| Bion. Where have I been? Nay, how now, where
are you
AY 4 ie a
viaster, hus my fellow Tranio stol’n your clothes ?

Yr you stol’ri his? or both ? pray, what’s the news ?
Luc. Sirr in, come hither; ’tis no time to jest,
ame yay manners to the time.
|Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life :
pen my appare a and my count nance on,
i 1 for my escape have put on his ;

a In a qui irrel, since I came ashore,
I kill’d a man, and fear I was dese ried 8
iV ait 2 ha on him, I charge you, as becomes
IW] hile I make way from hence to save my life :
| You underst basil me? :

Bion. I, sir? ne’er a whit.
Lue. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth ;
Tranio is chang’d into Lucentio.

Bion. The better for him ; "Would I were so too
(7) Show, appearance,
(9) Observed,

f

(8) Sinee,Scene Il. TAMING OF THE SHREW. 057

Tra. So would I, ‘faith, boy, to have the next|Rap’ me here, knock mé tell, and knock me
“wish afler,— soundly ?
That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest|And com you now will oe king at the gate?
apie Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.
But, sirrah,—not for my sake, but your master’s,- Hor. Petiubhio, natiends) [ am Grumio’s pledge:
, 1 advise Why, this isa heavy chance ’twixt him and you ;
You use your manners discreetly in all kind of) Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.
companies : {nd tell me now, sweet friend,—what happy gale
When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; vs you to Padua here, from old Verona ?
But in all places else, your master Li 10. Pel. Such wind as seatters young men through

Luc. Tranio, let’s go:— the world,
One thing more rests, that thyself execute ;— k their fortunes further than at home,
To make one among these wooers: If thou me} Wher | experience growsy But in a few,?
why,— sientor Liortensio, thus it stands with me:—
Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and wei . | Antonio, 1 er, is deceas’d ;
f.; And I have if into this maze,

l Serv. My lord, you nod: you do not the|} to wive, and thrive, as best I may:
play. nmy pu | have, and goods at home,
Sly. Ye , by saint 4 . do i. Al t a \ Ih ¢ Ui | to see the world.
surely ; Comes there ant ‘e of i Hor. | hio, shall I then come roundly to
Page. My lord, ’lis but ! :
Sly. ?Tis a very excellent ce of 1 I. mad \ wish to a shrewd ill-favour’d wife ?
lady ; ’Would’t were done! ‘dst thank me but a little for my counsel:

sa|a°n rp . : | ef » al eha rie
SCENE II.—The sane. 1 Li nd yet } ne ne ae
house. Enter Pets y and Gri And \ t thou’rt too much my friend,

i

; Pet. Ve reas, tr & win Li ; Pei. d i nsio, *twixt such friends as we,
s° see my trie nds in Padua; but of all, |, therefore, if thou know
My best veroved i | . ; r truchio’s wile,

Hortensio; and, | t a, : : then of my wooing d lance,)
Here, sirrah Grumiv; knock, | say. Florentius’ love,?
Gru. Knock, sir! whom s! \ as Sybil, 1 as curst and shrewd
any man ha rebused y \ > g, or a worse,
, 1] 7 ’ | :
_ Gn ae say, k K me Peirce moves me not, or not removes, at least,
Gru. Kno Cr } i ner[e, : s . Agi A me<« were she as rough
, that I should knock you here, : : ina Adriatic seas:
) it, ~- a o 4 ; we 4
"Pet. Villain, i , Knock m ; | ealthily in pee
And rap me wt ll, or PU kr \ ‘ : ; i, ilv in Pe dur
T om , ; ms * eu rT) 4 y | }
Gru. My master is grown quar me: i ( Vay, you, sir, he tela Sen flatly wnat
ke wns five? :
_ knock you first, Why, give him eo 1 enough, and
And then | kn yw aller who co! t, or an a let-baby ;* or an
2 ] in re 7 ‘

J et. Will it not be? ; tooth r head, though she
*Faith, sirrah, and you ll » 4 two sand Alby horses ¢-elev
Pil uy now you can » Ja, . iss, so money comes withal.,

fi ; ‘ : . ‘
; (He. G Hor. : we have stepp’d thus far in,

Gru. I ely , Sters, | | t i in iest

Pet. Now, knock ' I » thee to a wnle

Enter H and young, and beauteous ;
es a gentlewoman:

Hor. How now ry

, , ; ' is fauils enough, )
friend Grumio! nad my : ‘ . : } —
; ¥y Curst

How do you all at \ ero ae:

Sit Minalor Hortensiti } sO beyer id all measure,

wo! * than it 1S,

utlo ud core bene | lo, i ~ *
@) Tor ila é . . for a ani a oa vold.
or. Illa nostra ca , , ; Abe awe ’
Molin honovato sian Pet Pet. Hi e; thou know’st not gold’s
ne G irom , rise; wey name, and ’tis enough ;
i. 1% snon er. ‘ : . . .
¢ thi 7 “a : 1 af } | ‘ } ‘ ' , though sne « hide as loud
— = thy | L LW . | : I ti } , ;
if thi no - | clouds in autumn crack.
ervice,—Look you, sir, i ‘him, a ies B . Minok
. : . . 4 i i} i i> Ino ly
rap him so indiy, sir: Vell, {0 ° ; wae ot ut eman :
to use his master so; being, | ps, | ; tharina Minola
ee two a. (23 t 1 tee i Padua for her scolding tongue.
an an Pdnrys Be ee ee ae ". Pet. is her father, though I know not her;
Then “ no ee om ‘Good TH ee . y my deceased father well ==
Pet. 4 SCTIS« re vaae niiW- ; i ’ ; } : I] di : 310, till l see her ;
> tne rasc nock upon your gale,
1 bee ta ) Egeees Fam ; eed 4, | fore let mi * thus bold with you,
And could not get him for m y it. . 4. thia: Sibmimuicweribead
Gru. Knock at the gate 7—O heavens! it this first encounter,
‘ru. . as you will accompany me thither.

tmnalre wi oft ese words pialn.—)lrrTrah, /
Spake you onl e worus | ; 3 Gru. 1 pray you, sir, let him go while the hus
me WETS, ir lasts.. O' 1 y word, an she knew him as well
: - { do, she would think scolding would do little
(1) Alleges. (2) Few words. }

(3) dee the story, No. 39, of ‘.4 Dihousand WVo- (4) A small image on the tag of lace,
ladle Things, ' a K
erSn SO era

- Se ae ps

 

   
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
   
    
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   

 

053 TAMING OF THE SHREW. Act I.

geod upon him: She may, perhaps, call him half} So shall I no whit be behind in daty
a score knaves, or so: why, that’s nothing; an he|To fair Bianca, so belov’d of me.
begin once, he’ll rail in his rope-tricks.'| Pll tell] Gre. Belov’d of me,—and that my deeds shall
you what, sir,—an she stand? him but a little, he!| prove.
vill throw a ficure in her face, and so disfigure her} Gru. And that his bags shall prove. [ Aside.
w.ia it, that she shall have no more eyes to see! Hor, Gremio, ’tis now no time to vent our love-
withal than a cat: you know him not, sir. | Listen to me, and if you speak me fair,

Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee; _|I’ll tell you news indifferent good for either.

»s in Baptista’s keep? my treasure is:

| Here is a gentleman, wnom by chance | met,
ite hath the jewel of my Iife in hold, |Upon agreement from us to his liking,
Llis youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca ; | Will undertake to woo curst Katharine ;
Aud her withholds from me, and other more | Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please,
ouftors to her, and rivals in my love: | Gre. So said, so done, is well:—
Supposing it a thing impossible Hortensio, have you told him all her faults ?
(For those defects I have before rehears’d,) | Pet. I know, she is an irksome brawling scold ,
That ever Katharina will be woo’d, If that be all, masters, I hear no ha rm.
Therefore this order* hath Baptista ta’en ;— | Gre. No, say’st me so, friend? What country-
That none shall have access unto Bianca, | man ?
rye |

Till Katharine the curst have got a husband.
Gru. Katharine the curst!
A title for a maid, uf all titles the worst. And I do hope good days, and long, to see.
Hor. Nowshall my friend Petruchio do me grace;!_ Gre. O, sir, such a life, with such a wife, were
And offer me, disguis’d in sober robes, strange:
To old Baptista as a schoolmaster |But, if you have a stomach
Well seen® in music, to instruct Bianca:
That so I may bY this device, at least,

| Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio’s son:
/My father dead, my fortune lives for me ;

, to’t, o? God’s name;
|You shall have me assisting you in all.

‘But will you woo this wild cat ?

Have leave and leisure to make love to her, y Pe Will I live ?
| ‘ r ) ;
And, unsuspected, court her by herself. Gru. Will he woo her? ay, or Pil hang her.
lside
Enter Gremio; with him Lucentio disgitised, with Pet. Why came I hither, but to that intent ?

books under his arm. 'Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears ?
Gru. Here’s no knavery! See; to beguile the/ Have IT not in my time heard lions roar’

old folks, how the young folks lay their heads to-| Have I not hezrd the sea, pufl’d up with winds

gether! Master, master, look about you: Who! Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat ?

;

Sy

goes there? ha! Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
Hor, Peace, Grumio; ’tis the rival of my love :—! And heaven’s artillery thunder in the skies ?

Petruchio, stand by a while. Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Gru. A proper stripling, and an amorous! Loud’larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets’clang,
| They retire.| And do you tell me of a woman’s tongue ; ,
Gre. O, very well; I have perus’d the note. That gives not half so great a blow to the ¢ ar,
Hark you, sir; Pll have them very fairly bound: | As will a chesnut in a farmer’s fire ?
All books of love, see that ut any hand ;* Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.®
And see you read no other lectures to her: . Gru.
You understand me :—Ov: r and beside
Signior Baptista’s liberality,
Til mend it with a largess :"--Take your papers too, |'T]
And let me have them very well perfum’d :

lor he fears none.
[ Aside.
Gre. Hortensio, hark !
S ae ee ‘ arm sc herwneler este!
us gentleman is happily arriv’d,

: r My mind presumes, for his own good, and yours.
For she is sweeter than per ume itself, | Hor. I promis’d, we would be contributors
To whom they go. What ill you read to her? 'And bear his chare e of w ooing, W hatsoe’er. ,
Luc. Whate’er I read to ier, V’ll plead for you, |} Give. And so we will; provided, that he win her,
As for my patron (stand yc i so assur’d, ) | Gru. I would, I were as sure of a cood dinner.

As firmly as yourself were : ‘il] in place : [ Aside
Yea, and (perhaps) with m *e successful words | : ee he a
Than you, unless you were » scholar, sir. Enter rranio, bravely apparelled ; and Biondello.
Gre. QO this learning! what a thing it is!
Gru. O this woodcock! | *hat an ass it is! | Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
Pet. Peace, sirrah. To the house of signior Baptista Minola ?
Hor. Grumio, mum!—Cod save you, signior| Gre. He that has the two fair daughters :—js"t
“ Gremio! We | [.4side to Tranio.] he you mean?
Gre. And you're well met, signior Hortensio.} Jira. Evenhe. Biondello!
‘ Trow you, | Gre. Hark you, sir; You mean not her le
Whither I am going ?—To F aptista Minola. Tra, Perhaps, him and her, sir; What have
I promis’d to inquire carefuliy +e ae

you to do?
About a schoolmaster for fai; Bianca: Pet. Not her that chides, sir

Tra. Gentlemen, God save you! IfI may be bold,

» at any hand, I pray,

And, by good fortune, I have lighted well Tra. I love no chiders, sir:—Biondello, Jet’s
On this young man; for lear ing, and behaviour, away. ~ :
Fit for her turn; well read j poetry, Luc. Well becun, Tranio. [ Asid

And other books,—good ones, I warrant vou. Hor. Sir, a word ere you go :— 5 eg

Are you a suitor to the
or no?
Tra. An if I be, sir, is it any offence ?

maid you talk of, ve
Hath promis’d me to help me to another, : eee

|

|

Hor. ’Tis well: and I hav meta gentleman, |
A fine musician to instruct our mistress . |
ts} Abusive language, (2) Withstand, |

(5) Versed. (6) Rate. 7) Present,
Custody, (4) These measures. io

(8) Fright boys with bug-bears,Scene I. TAMING OF THE SHREW, 259

Gre. No; if, without more words, you will get) Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge ice, tell
vou hence Whom thou lov’st best: see thou dissemble not,
Tra. Why, sir, | pray, are not the streets as (ree! Bian. Believe me, siste r, of all the men alive,

For me, as for you? I never yet beheld that s ecial lace
Gre, But so is not she. Which [ could faney more than any other.

Tra. For what reason, I beseech you? Kath, Minion, thou liest; Is’t not Hortensio?
Gre. For this reason, if you'll know,—— Bian. If you amey a sister, here I swear,
That she’s the choice love of si rior STEED. hl | nl rad ty you mys¢ but you shall have him.
Hor, That she’s the chosen of signior Ho 10. Kath , then, belike aod ead Eee ae

Tra. Softly, my masters! if you be rentlemen, | You will | have Gre mio to keep you fa
Do me this rivrht,—hnear me wit ) palionee, Bien, 1s it for him you do envy me to4
Baptista is a noble ventleman, Nay, then you jest; and no yw | will perceive,
To whom my father is pn known: Lou have but jested With me all this while ;
And, Were lis Gaughter fatrer ! Ns! is, I p *ythe ¢, sister Kate, untie my hands,
She may more sui ve mine for one. Kath, li that be jest, then alf the rest was so.

[Strikes her.

Then well on: re may fair Bianca have:
ate : : sit ss . y* ; ; fiat:
And so she shall; Lucentio shall me! ne, Antler Baptista,
T rh P ? | !
ugh rs ) 8] Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence crows
‘ ; ' rf ’ - °
Grré. \V} ' 5 in wil ouf-talk us Lil this msolence C eeegnes
Lue. Sir, ni J WwW, oO ve @/ Bianca, stand aside : —poor girl! she weeps :——-
Prati Go ply thy need] er not with her.—
; ; e ; ,* Z p : . :
Pet, Toy | . i f PLCSe WOPrdUs J) bo} siaime, thou hildine? of a deyilis sh spirit,
fior. Sir, let me | : » 2S LO ASK L. Yhy dost Lhou wror er that did ne’ er wrong thee?
Did you vet ever s I u ; \\ ; d she cross thee with a bitter word ?
i . : ; } ' ; . — ; : , ac. 3] : .
ira, IN ’, Si I r, | : ' Kalh. lies siience tlouts me, and Pll be reveng d.
ry : 7? .
l ne one S$ amo | Léa a LU! 9 i Flic 5 ajl , Bianea.
As 1s the ot i | ~ sty. Lap. What, in my sight '—Lianea, get thee in.
Pel. Sir, sir, the first’s | ; tether |£rit Bianea.
Gre. Yea, leave that | i t Hercules ; Kath. Will vou not suffer me? Nay, now I see,
And | t sf ' \ *twely ws Tig et are « sraft } nl ;
ANG teti ; : is \ i . eC. L have a hus band ?
Pet. 5 1 st 1 i : n | : i eh (-| Lon het wedd ling-d:; iy,
The 1 neest da er, ' Ken for, And, for your love to her, d apes in hell,
Her fathe nCEDS [rom ul CCess Of : ; alk not to m ; | will go sit and weep,
And wiil not } \is Lo y man, Vill [ ezn find oceasion of revenge. | hari Kath,
Until the elder sister first be wed: Bap. VV: \ enticman thus griey’d as 1?
Th youtne t s | . ' ' Bul \ comes here ?!
Ira. Uf it} $0, » bal you ' ! ; ; : .
Must stead us all. and n mon the reat : Lanier Gremio, with Lucentio in the habit
An il iu break t nd do this | near man; Petruchio, ivith Hortensio as a@ mu-
Rohinhin thi ditne anf blun \ net sician; and l'ranio, 1 t Bionde ll earmg a
For our ucecss. wh ; lh) ; hay er. i mal
Will not so gracecless be, to be | { Gre. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista.
i WT. O.F, YOu Wen, 30 ae ee Bap. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio: God
And sin Mu 0 | ; SSO ; i : ve you, renticmen !
: . : ' { : ’ : : . -
You must, we do, pratuy thi ery fel. And you, good sir! Pray, have yow not a
To whom we all rest een lly IO) A i
Tr Sir. | shall not be slacl in Sien whereo! = eal )
ra, OM, Mod ms ee | "| Calld Katharina, fair, and virtuous 7
Pianen ‘ ’ : fens ft} crt iT} ’ y ;
Please ye we may « ty os GL ’ Bup. t have a dauvhter, sir, esll’d Katharina,
ee pense Fe ager pr Ith :
And quaff carous pour n Caitil | Gre. You Loo blunt, eo to it orderly.
And uO SERS Wed Saks ER , “a sf , | Pet. You wrone me, sisnior Gremio: give me
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. ee
; | 1} ’ .
Gr? / ori 1) ex ‘ ei i A pi . let i] am a rentieman ol VY erona, sir,
heron ’ Vhat,—hearing of her beauty, and her wit,
Hor. The motion’s good indeed, and be jt so :

ler allability, and bashful modesty,
ler wondrous qualities, and mild be haviour, —
\m bold to show myselfa forward cuest

|\Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
ACT Ti Of that report which I so oft have heard.
: And, for an entrance to iny entertainment,
: . sii do present you with a man of mine
eysir or ; he pte . ,* nm ti ] intista’s J =? :
SCENE 1.—Th een l 2 we a | Presenting Hortensio,
house. Jinter Katharina and Bianca.

(Cunning in music, and the mathem: itic 8,
Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong|To instruct her fully in those seiences
d ° ; WU ' ; v/ ®

yourself, Whereof, I know, she is not ig norant :
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; Accept of him, or else you de me Wrong ;
That | disdain: but for thes other rd iwds,? lita name is ] iclo, born in Mi: intlua. )
Unbind my hands, Pll pull them off myself, | Bap. You're weleome, sir; and he, for your
Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat ; _ good sake :
Or, what you will command me, will I do, But for my daughter Katharine,—this I know,
So well I know my duty to my elders. She is not for your turn, the more my grief,
’ ' . Pet. 1 see, you do not me an to part with her ;
che go t; (2) Companions, |
ts} Trilling Fai (4) Love, (5) A worthless woman,¥60 TAMING OF THE SHREW.

Or else you like not of my company.
Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but as I find. :
Whence are you, sir? what may I eall your name
Pet. Petruchio is my name; Antonio’s son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his

sake.
Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare!! you are marvellous forward.
Pet. O, pardon me, signior Gremio; I would fain
be doing.

Gre. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your

wooing.——
Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, Iam sure of
it. To express the like kindness myseli, that have
been more kindly beholden to you than any, I fr
give unto you this young schol ir, [Pres nling Lu-

sentio.] that hath been long studying at Rheims;
as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages

ely

as the other in music and mathematics: his num

is Cambio; pray, accept his service,
Bap. A thousand thanks, stgnior Gremio: wel
come, good Cambio.—But, gentle sir, | Zo Tranio.

}
|
j

methinks you walk like a stranger; May I be so)

bold to know the cause of your coming?
Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own;
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous,
Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest. sister :
This liberty is all that I request,—
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome ’mongst the rest that woo,
And free access and favour as the rest.
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books:
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence, |
pray ?
Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.
Bap. A mighty man of Pisa; by report
1 know him well: you are very welcome, sir.—
Take you [To Hor.] the lute, and you [To Luc.]
the set of books,
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within !

Enter a Servant.

Sirrah, lead

These gentlemen to my daughters; and tell them)

both,
These are their tutors: bid them use them well.
| Exit Servant, with Hortensio, Lucentio, and
Biondello.

We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner: You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.

Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well; and in him, me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better’d rather than decreas’d:
Then tell me,—if I get your daughter’s love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife ?

Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands :
And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.

Pet. And, for that dowry, Pll assure her of

(1) A proverbial exclamation then in use,
(2) A fret in music is the stop which causes or
regulates the vibration of the string,

  

Act Fis

 

\Her widowhood,—be it that she survive me,—

[In all my lands and leases whatsoever ;

|Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,

| That covenants may be kept on either hand.

Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain’d,
This is,—her love; for that is all im all,

| Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, futher,
\I am as peremptory as she proud-minded ;

And where two raging fires meet together,

‘They do consume the thing that feeds their fury :
Though little fire grows great with little wind,

| Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all;

So I to her, and so she yields to me:

‘For I am rouch, and woo not like a babe,

| Bap. Well may’st thou woo, and happy be thy

/ ’
speed !
But be thou arm’d for some unhappy words.

proof; as mountains are for winds,
rrt |

Pet. Av.to the
hat shake not, though they blow perpe tually.

Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broken.
Bap. How now, my friend? why dost thou look

4 - ~
so) | if i

Hor. For fear, T promise you, if 1 look pale,

Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mu-

} 5

} Sician

|

Hor. 1 think, she'll sooner prove a soldier ;
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
| Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the
lute i
Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me,
{ did but tell her, she mistook her frets,?
And bow’d her hand to teach her fingering;
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
Frets, call you these 7 q ioth she: J’ June with

j

Live
}And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
{And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazed for a while, r3
|As on a pillory, looking through the lute:
| While she did call me,—raseal fiddler,

5
with twenty such vile

'And—twangling Jack ;3
lerms,
|As she had studied to misuse me so.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty weneh:;
I love her ten times more than e’er I did:
1Y, h rw I long LO have some chat with her!
| Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited:

1). +} .
| Proceed in practice with my younger daughter ;
i She’s apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. —

Signior Petruchio, will you go with us:

}Or shall I send my dau rhter Kate to you?

: ) I will attend her he re,—

[Exe. Bap. Gre. Tra. and Hor.

|And woo her with some spirit when she comes,

Say, that she rail; Why, then Pll tell her plain,

iShe sings as sweetly as a nightineule:

say, that she frown; [ll say, she looks as clear

| As morning roses newly wash’d with dew

Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word;

Then Pil commend her volubility, ,

!And say—she utlereth piercing eloquence :

If she do bid me pack, V’ll give her thanks.

| As though she bid me stay by her a week ;

If she deny to wed, Vll crave the day .

| When I shall ask the banns, and when be married: —

{But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.

Enter Katharin

Good morrow, Kate ; for that’s your name, I hear.

Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard
of hearing ; '

(3) Paltry musician.Scene 1. TAMIN

They call me—Katharine, that do talk of me.
Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call’d plain

Kate,

And bonny Kate , and sometimes Kate the curst ;

But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,

Kate of Kate-hall, my super-dainty Kate

For dainties are all cates : d there fore.

Take this of me, Kate of my consolation

Hearing thy mildness prais’d in every town,

* T)
aal

Kate,

Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belonwzs, )
Mvself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.

x OF THE

Kath. Mov’d! in good time: let him that mov’d
you hither,
Remove you hence: I knew you al the first,
You were a moveable.
Pet. Why, whal’s a moveable?
Kath. A j yint-stool.
Pet, Thou hast hit it come, sif on me
Kath. Asses are made to bear, 1 so are you
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so ire you
Kath. No such } ce, sir, as yt 1, if me 1mean
Pet. Alas, good Kate! I will t burden thee
F or. knowl to be but yo d light,—
Kath. Too light for suth vain as you to cal
And yet as h v¥ as mm} ‘ hf ytrlal be
Pet. Should be? should
Kath. WW i and like a bu 1,
Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle! s izzard
thee
Kath. Ay, for a turtl s takes a bt ird.
Pet. Come, come, you sp; i'l 1. ¥O : too
aners
Kath, If I be wasp h. best beware my sli
Pet. My remedy is ther ek it out
Kath. Av, if the fool ld f here it lies
Pet. Who know t Ww ( 1 wea
his sting ?
In his tail.
Kath. 1) his tongut
Pet. V\ t
Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails ; | on faves
well.
Pet. it, with my ton in ¥ tail? 1
come again,
Go i Kat lam ag itlema
Kath. That Pit
y
Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you s ike i
Kath. So may you los yu :
If you strike me, you art ns
And if no ven len 1, WHY, en no
Pet. R BOENs SOD Pa. in thy boo!
Kath. VW your crest coxcomb ?
Pet. Ac ym s © Ss »K ih be my hen.
Kath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a
craven.!
Pet. Nay, come, Kate, con you! t not loo!
80) SUUI.
Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
Pet. Why, here’s no crab; and therefore look
not sour.
Kath. There is, there is
Pet. Then show it me.
Kath. Had I aglass, I would.
Pet. What, you mean my lace ?
Kath. Well aim’d of? such a young one.

:
sah

Now, int Geor l
you.
Kath. Yet
Pet.
Kath.

by Sa

Pet. ,
you are wither *d.

’Tis with cares.

(2) By,

(1) A degenerate cock,

m too young Lor

| care not.

261

in sooth, you ’scape

SHREW.
Nay, h

not so,
Kath. 1 chafe you, if I tarry; let me go.
Pet. No, nota whit; I find you passing gentle,
’T was fey lime, you were rough, and coy, and sullen,

   
 
   
   
    
  
  
 
    

Pet. Kate:

“ar yOu,

And now I find report a very liar
For tho u art pleasant, g amesoine, passing cour
Leous ;
But slow inspeech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers :
hou canst nol trown, thou canst not look askance,
r bite the lip, as angry wenches will ;

1a ‘to be cross in talk ;

ss entertain’st thy wooers,

st thou pl asul

thou with mildnt

With gentle conference, soft and affable.

Why does the world report, that Kate doth limp?

O slanderous world! Kate, like the hazle-twig,

Is straight | slender; and as brownjn hue

As hazle nut | sweeter than the kernels,

O, let? walk: thou dost not halt.

Kath. Go, fool, end whom thou keep ’st command.
Did « Dian so become a grove,

As Kate t her with her princely gait?

QO. be thou iat d let her be Kate;

And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful!
Kath. V did you study all this goodly
Pet. it e, from my mother-wit.
ky \ yi cl ! VV itle SS ¢ Ise he r Son.
Pet. A | { ;

Kath. Yes; keep you warm.
P Marry [ rnean, sweet Katharine, in thy

And all this chat aside,

[hus in pl Your father hath consented

Phat ye ny wife ; your dowry ’greed on;

And, \ nil | will marry you.

N IK a ind for your turn

reby I see thy be auty,

ia 1 mal me like thee well,)

|’ Tis caine nel me

For | l n to tame you, Kate ;

And b ild cat to a Kate

+ re ail ld Kates.

1 C father: never raake denial,

Ly { ; ve Katharine to my wife,

Re-ent ) , Gremio, an ! Tranio.
B Now,

Sienior Pets llow speed you witl

Vi irhtler {

Pet tlow but well, sir? how but well?

1 were in i | ] uld speed amiss.

B \\ _ daughter Katharine? in
Kath. Cally \ughter ? now I promise you

You have show’d a tender fatherly regard,

To wish m i to one hall tp :

\ mac- ruffian, and a swearing Jack,

[hat thin vith oaths to face he matter out.

| Pet. Father, tis th selfand all the world,

That talk’d of h hay talked amiss of her ;

If she be curst, itis! ir policy :

iFor she’s not froward, but modest as the dove ;

She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;

Ik ir itience she will prove a second Grissel ;

for her chastity:
‘greed so well toge

1 Roman Lucrece

| Ar
iAnd to conc lu

ave

Lner,
{That upon 5 sunday is the wedding-day.
| Kath, Pil see thee hane’d on Sunday first,
| Gre, Hark, Petruchio! she says, she’ll see thee
hang’d first.

Is this your speeding ? nay, then, good
night our part!

Tra.a Roe

Seren ets

 

 

 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
    
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   

 

 

~~

Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her fo
myself ;

If she and I be pleas’d, what’s that to you ?
Tis bargain’d ’twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, ’tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate !—
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied! so fast, protesting oath on oat
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices ! ’tis a world to see,?
How tame, when men and women are alone,

l,

A meacock? wretch can make the curstest shrew. —

Grive me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel ’gainst the wedding-day :—
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ;
{ will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine.
Bap. I know not whatJo say: but give me you
hands ;
God send you joy, Petruchio! ’tis a match.

262 TAMING OF THE SHREW.

    
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
     

     

Act III,

 

r| Tra, That only came well in Sir, list to me,
[am my father’s heir, and only son:
If l may have your daughter to my wife,
’ll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old signior Gremio’ has in Padua ;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
Of fruitful land, all which shail be her jointure.—
What, have I pinch’d you, signior Gremio ?

Gre. ‘Two thousand ducats by the year, of land!
My land amonnts not to so much jn ath:
Phat she shall have ; besides an argosy,*

That now is lying in Marseilles’ road:

| What, have I chok’d you with an argosy ?
| T'ra. Gremio, *tis known, my father bath no less
|
i
|

 

 

|Than three creat argosies; besides two galliasses,®
[And twelve tight yallies: these I will assure her,
‘And twice as much, whate’er thou offer’st next.

| Gre. Nay, I have offer’d all, I have no more ;
|And she can have no more than all I have :-—

. . | . ’ .
Gre. Tra. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses. |If vou like me, she shall have me and mine.

Pet. Father, and wife, avd gentlemen, adieu ;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace :—-—
We will have rings, and things, and fine array ;

’
'

And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o’Sunday. |
[Exeunt Petruchio and Katharine, severally.| And, let your father make her the assurance,

Gre. Was ever match clapp’d up so suddenly ?

Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s

part,

And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra, ’Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
’T will bring you gain, or perish on the seas

Bap. The gain I seek is—quiet in the match.

Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter :-—
Now is the day we long have looked for ;
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more

Than words can witness, or your thoughts ean guess. |

Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra, Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.

Gre. But thine doth fry. |

Skipper, stand back: ’tis age that nourisheth.
Tra. But youth, in ladies’ eyes that flourisheth.
Bap. Content you, gentlemen ;

this strife :

Tis deeds, must win the prize; and he,-of both,

That can assure my daughter greatest dower,

Shall have Bianca’s love.—

Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her ?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the

city,

Is richly furnish’d with plate and gold ;

Basons, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands :

My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry :

In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns;

In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,*

Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,

Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss’d with pearl,

Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,

Pewter and brass, and all things that belong

To house, or housekeeping: then, at my farm,

I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,

Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,

And all things answerable to this portion.

Myself am struck in years, I must confess :

And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers,

If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.

Vil compound

(1) To vie and revie were terms at cards now

| ira. Why, then the maid is mine from all the
world,

'By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied.

}Dy }

Bap. t must confess, your offer is the best;

|

She is your own; else, you must pardon me:
[f vou should die before him, where’s her dower
Tra. That’s but a cavil; he is old, I young.
| Gre. And may not young.men die, as well as old ?

j rt? \ i}
| Bap. Wel

*y

9

roeniiemen,

’

|T am thus resolv’d:—On Sunday next you know,
My daughter Katharine is to be married :

Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca

Be bride to you, if you make this assurance :

If not, to signior Gremio:
{nd so I take my leave, and thank vou both. [ Ex.
| Gre, Adieu, good neighbour.—Now I fear thee

Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool
|'To give thee all, and, in his waning age,

Set foot under thy table: Tut! a tov!

|An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. {Evit.
| Zra. A vengeance on your crafty wither’d hide!
Yet I have faced it with’a ecard of ten.’

Tis in my head to do my*master rood :—
I sce no reason, but cuppos’d Lucentio

| Must get a father, eall’d—suppos’d Vincentio ;
{And that’s a wonder: fathers, commonly,

|Do get their children: but, in this case of wooing,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning,
[ Exit,

——<Qe———

|
|
}
ISCENE I.—1 room in Bapltista’s house. Enter
| Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianea.
| Luc. Fiddler, forbear: vou grow too forw ard, sir:
| Have you so soon forcot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine weleom’d you withal ?

Hor. But, wraneline pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmon
Then give me leave to have prerogative ;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much,

Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why musie was ordain’d !

 

superseded by the word brag.
‘3 It is well worth seeing,
(3) A dastardly creature,
(4) Coyerings for beds; now called counterpanes,

(5) A large me~chant-ship,

(6) A vessel of burthen worked both with sails
and oars.

(7) The highest card.Scene Il.

Was it not, to refresh the mind of man,
After his studies, or his usual pain?

Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor, dSirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. |

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which resteth in my choice :
l am no bree ching scholar! in the sch ols :

I'll not be tied to hours, nor ’pointed times,
But learn my lessons as | ple ase myself,
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down :—
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles
His lecture will be done ere you have tun’d.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture when Iam in tune?
{Zo Bianca.—Hortensio retires.

Tuc. That will be never ;—tane your instrument.

Bian. Where left we last ?

Luc. Le re, ma i n°
Hac that Simois ; his t Sireia tellus

,

  
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
    
    
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
 

TAMING OF THE SHREW. 263

A re, to plead Hortensio’s passion ;
| B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
| C faut, that loves with all affection ;
| D sol re, one cliff, teco noles have I;
| Elami, show pity, or I die.

iCall you this—gamut? tut! I like it not:

Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,‘
‘l'o change true rules {or odd inventions.

| Enter Servant.

Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your
books,

And help to dress your sister’s chamber up ;
You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must be

rone. [f rewnt Bianca and Servant.

| Lue. ’Faith, mistress, then 1 kave no cause to
stay. [ Exit.

> oa r ‘ . 2 ce ‘
Siin stebedat Madiond Gate aalce 5 , Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant ;
| ae ri i bial Ce B SEIU. Methinles he looks as t} uch he were in love ad
pwn. onstrue tLoem. : °- 4 ' .
Pas Elee that 2 TR A ee Sn Yet if thy thoughts, Bienea, be so humble,
am | a hte ped enn unto Vinrentin of Pion |. o cast thy wand’ring eyes on every stale,*
am Lucentio,—fre est, n unto Yincenuo ot Pisa, “ : : :
etete ties a at yore “ seize thee, that list: If onee I find thee ranging,
a Tift %. ISTUIS 1 af S (0p i 0 C— 4 . . . a? ee .
a ee er ae Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a woo- : : e Exit
ing,.—Pria i. is my man T rat i0.—=Fes ia, by ring LIU.
my port,—ceisa sents, that we might becuile the| SCENE I—The sa Before Baptista’s house.
ald pantalvon.? Enter Baptista, Grem o, Tranio, Katharina, Bi-
\ ‘ , ’
H Ts Mi 1am } | 1] 1h e anca, Lucentio, and fendants.
le { re > sé . : ry? ryt ° °
SPS ee a} i. ly \ ale Ban. Sienior Lucentio, [Jo Tranio.] this is the
i if ‘ i ‘. — u
O fie! bo ae re eee,
Luc. Spit int man, and lune again Chat Katharine and Pe! -uchio should be married,
Bian. Now let sce if L can construe it: Hac) And yet we hear not of sur son-in-law :
that Simois. 1 know you not: hic est Sizcia tellus What will be said? wheat mockery will it be,
Seat a oe opto cn ais iat tolen heed he LO want the briderroom. when the priest attends
] ! tvoun - a ni. } needa i ome , : <a . ~ ° ,
hear us not:—reria. presume not:—celea senis.| 0 speak the ceremonia! rites of marriage?
despair | ae What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

Hor. Madam. *tis now in tune

Kath. No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be

Due. All but the base. see ‘ fore’d .
<n Te eo ee ee - thay | O ative my hand, onpos’d against my heart
Hor. The base is right: the | knave that), nt ; : -4 .
are Linto a mad-brain’d rudesby, full of spleen ;*
How fiery ie 1 forward our pedant is! Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
Now five vine If thin | + uy li rt me laws | told you, - he was a frantic fool,
Pedas “1 le 3 ‘al sari vot sm lliding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour:

Bian. In time | may believe, vet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, A
Was Aizx,—call’d so

yo
T shou (l ‘b LF t
But let it rest.—Now, Licio, | a
(;,00d mast e | tl : ‘ 9 s
That I have been | gp] nt ith vou both.
Hor, You may go wal! [fo L 410. |
rive tr leave

My lessons make no music in three part

Luc. Are vou so formal, sir? well, | must wait,

And, to be noted for a merry man,

He'll woo a thousand, "point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banns ;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo’d,

1

Now must the world point at poor Katharine,
And say,—Lo, there is mad Petruchio’s wife,

\)
[fit would plea him come and marry her.
Tra, Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista
too :

a} Cnon my life, Petruchio menns but well,

Whatever fortune stavs him from his word :

ith he be blunt, I know him passing wise ;
ouch he be merrv, yet withal he’s honest,
Kath. ’Would Katharine had never seen him

in

TY
T)

And watch withal; ! but I be deceiv’d thouch!
- . | 2 ‘ rT) 3
Our fine musician croweth amorous, | Aside. oo . ‘
1 os Mad he ' Fisk loucbetiennnl (Exit, weepine, followed by Bianea, and others.
or. rdam. before you touch the instrumen
— , ‘ . . Bap. Go, girl; Leannot blame thee now to weep ;
To learn the order ol mv Eneerin a a . bE! 1) eee
j ‘ i . , ; . ‘ For such an Injury would Vex a saint,
mus ‘TIN WIL roucimel a} | a 7 .
Ni — ee 2 ‘ Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour,
To teach vou gamut ina briefer sort, ,
More pleas int, pithy, and « flectuval Enter Biondello.

Than hath been taucht by anv of my trade:

And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

Bian, [Reads.] Gamut J am, the ground of all

accord,

( ) No schoolboy, liable to be whipped,
(2) The old cully in Italian farces,

   

Bion. Master, master! news, old news, and suc
news as you never heard of!
| Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that be?
| Bion, Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio’s
icoming ?

Bap. Is he come?

| (3) Pedant.

(4) Fantastical.
(5) Bait, decoy. (6)

6) Caprice, inconstancy;264

Bion. Why, no, sir.

‘Bap. What then?

Bion. He is coming.

Bap. When will he be here?

Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees
you there.

Tra. But, say, what:—To thine old news.

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat)
and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches, thrice |
turned ; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases,
one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword
ta’en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt,
and chapeless ; with two broken points: His
| hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no|
|
}
{

le

 

horse |
kindred: besides, possessed with the glanders, and}
: like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, |
infected with the fashions,' full of wind-galls, sped |
with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of|
the fives,? stark spoil’d with the staggers, begnaw
| with the bots ; i

swayed in the back, and sh

H shotten; ne’er-legged before, and with a hal{-
| checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep’s leat!
i which, being restrained to keep him from
bling, hath been often burst, and now repaired witl
i knots: one girt six times pit ced, and a S
crupper of velure,? which hath two letters for he:
i name, fairly set down in studs, and here and
i pieced with packthread.
F Bap. Who comes with him
} Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world ¢
t risoned like the horse; with a linen stock* on o
leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, ;
with a red and blue list: an old hat, and 7’he hu-|
mour of forly fancies pricked in’t fo1 featl
a monster, a very monster in apparel; and noth
a Christian footboy, or a gentleman’s lackey
Tra. ’Tis some odd humour pricks him to
fashion ;—
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell’d.
Bap. 1 am glad he is come, howsoe’er
comes.
Bion. Why, sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didst thou not say, he comes?
Bion. Who? that Petruchio came ?
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.
Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with hin
on his back.
Bap. Why, that’s all one.
Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, |
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not

many.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio.
gallants? who is at)

Pet. Come, where be these
home ?

Bap. You are welcome, sir.

And yet you halt not.

T ’
Not so well a

1153
ppareir a)
is

 

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

The morning wears, ’tis
:

Go tomyc

And yet I come not well. |*

 

ct II.

Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.
‘a. And tell us, what occasion of import
ath all so long detain’d you from your wife,
| sent you hither so unlike yourself?
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress :°
Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied withal.
But, where is Kate? I stay too long from her .
we were at church.
bride in these unreverent

Id J
time
ir

TG, See TOL yo

ropes:
hamber, put on clothes of mine.

 

 

Pet. Not I, believe me; thus Ill visit her.
Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
Pet. Good h, even thus; therefore have done
itn { ,
['o me s married, nol unto my clothes:
Could I rey will wear in me,
As I can poor accoutrements,
we | Late, and better for myself.
Bi !, to chat with you,
VW l ood-morrow to my bride,
And | the title with a lovely kiss ?
[Fe it | uchio, Gramio, and Biondello.
Hi 1 some meaning in his mad attire:
f Il y de him, be it | ossible,
fo put on better ere he go to church.
5 Pi] r him, and see the event of this.
. [| Exit,
ra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add
Mer father’s liking: Which to bring to pass,
As | ore imparted to your worship,
m 1 i man,—whate’er he be,
It skills® not m we'll fit him to our turn,—
And |] ll be Vineentio of Pisa:
\ m irance, here in Padua,
sums than I have promised.
) ul you quietly enjoy your hope,
ind marry sweet Bianca with consent.
Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster
Bianca’s steps so narrowly,
‘h i, methinks, to steal our marriage ;
|v hich onee perform’d, let all the world say—no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.
Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business:
We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,
The narrow-prying father, Minola ;
The quaint’ musician, amorous Licio ;
All for my master’s sake, Lucentio.—

Re-enter Gremio.
signior Gremio! came you from the church?
Gre. As willingly as e’er I came from school.
| Za. And is the bride and bridegroom coming
As I wish you were. home? .
Pet. Were it better I should rush im thus. | Gre, A bridegroom, say you? ’tis a groom, in-
But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride? deed
How does my father ?7—Gentles, methinks you|A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
frown: | ira Curster than she ? why, *tis impossible.
And wherefore gaze this goodly company ; | Gre. Why, he’s a devil, a devil, a very fiend
; | ore x ; ‘ > 4 , ] cd.
As if they saw some wondrous monument, | Zra, Why, she’s a devil, a devil, the devil’s dam
Some comet, or unusual prodigy ? | Gre. Tut! she’s a lamb, a dove, a foal to hi :
5 B Why . x kk : crs. es \ddinog PH t as ‘ 4 ‘ . ~ al toe € ( um.
ap. a y, sir, you know, this 1s your wedaing-| au tell you, Sir Luc nuio: When the priest
First a 1, feari Snowe —1ii Katharine should be his wife,
: irst were we sad, fearing you would not come ; ly, by “wi quoth he; and swore so loud,
F
5
2} Farcy. (3) Velvet (4) Stocking,
t 2) Vives; adistemper in horses Jiitle differing (5) 2. e. To deviate from my promise
(ft n 4 nw ~\ ‘ . —
om the strangles, (6) Matters, (7) Strange.Scene J. TA

he priest let fall the

That all amaz’d, |
And, as he stoup’d again to take it up,
The mad-brain’d bridegroom took him
That down fell priest and book, and boo
Now take them un, quoth he, tf any
Tra. What: ia the wench, when’h
Gre. Trembled and shook: for why
and swore,
As if the vicar meant to cezen him.
But after ma: y ceremoni

He calls for wine :—.4 health, quoth h

He had been aboard carousing to his m

After a storm :—Qualff"d off the musc
And threw the sops all in the sexton’s
Having no other reason,—

But that his beard erew thin and hun
And seem’d to ask him sops as ne was
This done, he took the bride about ¢)
And kiss’d her lips with such a clam
That, at the parting, all the church d
I, secing this, came ther fur \

And afler me. i know, t rout!
Such a mad marria never v

Hark, hark! I hear the minstre!
Enter Petruchio, Kath na, Bi
Hortensio, Grum) .

Pet. Gentlemen and fricr a
your |] 1iiS :

I know, you think to dis - Wi me fo-c

And have prepar’d

MING OF THE SHREW, -
book: If she had not a spirit to resist. °
Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, atjshy com-
such a cuff. mand ;— f
oe
lk anc priest (} t} bri vou that attend } ys y?
kand priest; y th le, you attend on her: y
I ;
P Got e feast, revel and domineer, ,
ros iva} G us full sure to ! r maidenhead, , Z

, he stamp’d,, be mac at merry,—-—or | » hang your#lyes ;

y bonny Kate, she must with me;
vay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret ;

| we mister of what is min own:
s if . y goods, my chattels ; she is my house,
tes \ly hou iil, my field, my barn,
x \ my any thing;
face : , here s tands, touch het whoever dare ;
{’ i | I yrudest he
erly, ¥icr 1.——Grumio,
lrinking, Draw fi pon, we’re*beset with thieves ;
necit : iLesc { : tt bea man:—

yrous sinack, [fear not, , they shall not touch thee,

me: ri] t a million.
Velruchio, Katharine, and Grumio.
Ban. Nay, » a couple of amet ones,

7 ore..." ¥y not « kiv, f should die with

Re i LISia, I" 1 y ch Ss. never was the like!
J t’s your inion of vour sister?

lf, she’s madly

E ‘hio is Kated.
Bo, . and friends, uch bride and

But so it is, my haste doth « n ' we
And therefore here I mean t py : } : ta 1, . ah
B ip. [s’t possible, you wi r.3 as 4 " : : ay the feast _——"
Pet. I must away to-day, bel ni ‘ ‘ sak : .s isu y the bridegroom's place ;
Make it no wonder; if you knew my ind let B n La : her si te) st om. ae
You would entreat me rather co! . } ise how to bride it?
And, honest company, I thank you all, , _ : i, Luccntio.—Come, gt ntlemen,
That have beheld m: ve if | Exeunt.
To this most patient, sweet, and vi \ tk
Dine with my father, drin| to} ee
For l must hence, and farev 1 } 7 : a ¥
Tra. Let us entreat y ; \ ; P , ountry house.
Pet, It may not be. : ie oe
Gre. I, el . :

Pet. It cannot be.

Kath. Let me er

Pet. lam content.

Kath. \ e you

Pet. 1 am content you shal! ent
But yet not stay, entreat m ¥ you

Kath. Now, if you love me, sta)

Pet. Crrumio

1 }

Gru. Ay, sir, they be ready; th
eaten the horses.

Kath, Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I wil! not go to
No, nor to-morrow, nor till I pleas
The door is open, sir, there lies your
You may be jogging, whiles your boo

For me, [ll not be gone, till I please mys

7)

’Tis like, you'll prove a jolly surly gro
That take it on you at the first so roundl

Pet. O, Kate, content thee; pr’
angry.

Kath. I will be anery: What hast thou
a

Father, be quiet; he shall stay my lei

}

Gre. Ay, marry, sir: now it begins

Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the brie
I sce a woman may be made a fool,

(1) It was the custom for the com

to drink wine immediately after the marriage-

ceremony.

| tired jades! on all mad
foul ways! Was cver man so
yed 73 s ever man
i vy?) bef to make a fire, and they

tay ; to ithem. Now, were not
can. la ] i s00N 1, my very lips might
to 1 omy iwue to the roof of my
I should come by

blowing the fire,
| warm myself; for, considering the weather,
taller man than I li take cold.—Holla, hoa!

mw

i i | gs
. curt VV 1 ) ce t. ( ils ene daly ?
« Yr rTCen * . : by | )
} : Gru. A piece of ice: If thou doubt it, thou
ae y’st slide from my shoulder to my heel, with no
. ’

r reater a run but my head and my neck. A fire,
eo. BC’ I ; ’ ae ‘ .o.8 ‘fn . ‘ .
Curt. Ismy master and his wife coming, Grumio?
O, av, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire ;
sure. a ‘
to work Cua. 3 so hot a shrew as she’s reported ?
a Gru. She was, cood Curtis, before this frost:
‘st, winter lames man, woman, and
beast; for it hath tamed my old master, and my
ress, and myself, fellow Curtis.

; tT .
lal dinner :—

ry 4 nis
nany present|2e'" mv

(2) Delicacies. (3) Bewrayed, dirty,

2L566 TAMING OF THE SHREW. Act IV,

Curt. Away, 7ou threcsinuch fool! Tamno beast.| Gru. Call them forth. _

Gru. Am { but three inches? why, thy horn is} Curt. Do you hear, ho? you must meet my
afoot; and so long am I, at the lea st. “But wilt! master, to countenance my mistress,
thou make a fire, or shall [ complain on thee toour| Gru. Why, she hath a face of her own.
mistress, whose hand (she being now athand) thou; Curt. W1 ho knows not that ?

shalt soon ive, to thy cold comlort, for being slow) Gru. Thou, it seems; that callest for company
in thy hot office ito counten: ince her. }
Curt. I pr y the e, good Grumio, tell me, How) Crt. I call them forth to credit her.
goes the w orld? | Gru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them,
Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but Fatavaedéval Berea
thine ; and, therefore, fire: Do thy duty, and have Rice sbecmiients
thy duty ; ; for my masicr and mistress are almost| A ath. Welcome home, Grumio.
frozen to death. Phil. How now, Grumio ?
Curt. There’s fire ready ; And therefore, good| Jes. What, Gr mio !
Grumio, the news ? Nich. Fellow Grumio!
Gru. Why, Jack boy! ho boy! and as much) Nath. How now, old lad?
news as thou wilt. : Gru. Welcome, you;—how now, you ;—what,

Curt. Come, you are so full of conycatching :—|you ;—t l!ow, you; and thus much for greeting.
Gru. Why, therefore, fire ; for [ have caught ex- Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and all

treme cold. Where’s the cook? is supper ready,/“hings neat:

the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swepi;| “Walk. All things ® ready: How near is our
the serving-men in their new fustian, their white master f
stockings, and every oflicer his wedding-garment) | Gru. FE’en at hand, alighted by this ; and there-
on? Be the jacks fair within, the jills i ur without,|fore be not,——Cock’s passion, silence !——I hear
the carpets laid, and every thing in order? my master.
ey 7 ready 5 am tecrgtore,’ Torey thor, Enter Petruchio and Katharina.
Gru. First, know, my horse is tired ; my maste; Pet. Where be these knaves? What, no man at
and mistress fallen out: deor,
Curt. How ? To hold my stirrup, nor to take mv horse ?
Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt; And|Vhere is Nathantel, Gregory, Philip?
thereby hangs a tale. 4 Serv. Here, here, sir; here, sir.
Curt. Let’s ha’t, good Grumio. Ae Pet, Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir !—
Gru. Lend thine ear. You logger-headed and unpolish’ ‘dy grooms!
Curt. Here. What, no attendance? no reward? no duty ?7—
Gru. There. [ Slriking him.| Where is the eo oop abe I sent before ?
Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hearatale. | Gru. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before.
Gru. And therefore ’tis called, a sensible tale:| et. You peasant swain! you whoreson malt
and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and be- horse drudge !

seech listening. Now I begin: Jmprimis, we came Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,
. . * 78 . iwi hring « : } : v¢ ¢
down a foul hill, my mastsr riding | shi nd my mis-| 4nd bring along these rascal knaves with thee ?

tress :— | Gru, Nathaniel’s coat, sir, was not fully made,
Curt. Both on one horse? And Gabriel’s pumps were all u npink? d the heel ;
Gru. What’s that to thee ? Ther was BO link* to colour Peter’s hat,
Curt. Why, a horse. \nd | Walter’s dagger was not come from sheathing:
Gru. Tell thou the tale :——But hadst thou not| 4 here were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gre-
crossed oO thou shouldst have heard how her hors« cory 5
fell, and she under her dba thou should’st have! The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ;
heard, in how miry a p lace : how she was bemoil-| Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you,
ed; how he left her with the horse upon her: how Pet. G ), rascals, go, and f itch my suppe Pin
he hoe me because her horse stumbled; how sh : [Exeunt some of the Servants,
waded throuzh the dirt to pluck him off me; how Where is the life that lateIled— — [Sings,
he swore; hoy she prayed—that never prayed be-| Where are those-——Sit down, Kate, and weleome.
fore ; how I cried ; how the horses ran away; how|50ud, soud, sond, soud !

her bridle was burst;? how I lost my crupper ;— R ==" , th
: : . . ve-enter Servants, wu upper
with many things of worthy memory ; which now ’ ' iS, wii Supper,

shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced; Why, when, I say ?—Nay, good sweet Kate, be

to thy grave. merry.

Curt. By this reckoning, he is more shrew than) Off with my boots, you rogues, you villains; When?
she. [t was the friar of orders gn CMs [Sings,
Gru. Ay; and that, thou and the proudest of ls he J rlh walked on his way :— ™

you all shall find, when he comes home. But what;Out, out, you rogue! you pluck lk my foot awry:
talk I of this ?—call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nich-| Take that, and mend the plucking off the othe uc
olas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest; let 7 [Strikes him
their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats! Be merry, Kate :—Some water, here: what ‘te
brushed, and their garters of an indiflerent® knit:| Where’s my oo Troilus ?—Sirrah, ret you
Jet them curtscy with their left legs ; and not pre- hence a
sume to touch a hair of my master’s horse-tail, till, And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither :—
they kiss their hands. Are the y all ready ? | Exit Servant.
Curt. They are. ‘One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted
with.—
1) Bemired. (2) Broken. wie
3) Not different one from the other, | A word coined by Shakspeare to express the

4) A torch of pitch. — te by a person heat ed and fatigued.Scene II. TAMING OF T

Where are m)} slippers ?—Shall I have some water?! Thi

ji

HE SHREW. 267

his is the way to k ill a wife with kindness ;

[7 bason is presented lo him. And thus Pll curb her mad and headstrong hu-

Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily :—
[Servant lcls the ewer fall. I

mour
le that knows better — to tame a shrew,

You whoreson villain! will you let it fall ? Now let him speak; ’tis charity to show. [Ezit.
; T i

Kath. Patience, 1 pray you . twas : fa lf un Ȣ EN k tt or AG lua.

5 ak
}
willing

) : =
on A whort son, bee tle-headk defi: ip-car’d knave :

Befi re Baptista’s house.
Enter Tranio end Hortensio.
Ira. Is’t possibl le, friend Licio, that Bianca
Joth faney any other but Lucentio?
tell you, sir, she Seka me fair in hand.
Ilor. Sir, to s — you in what I have said,

Serv. Ay. Stand her, und mark the manner of his teaching.

Come, Kate, sit cowe | I know vou have a stomach. |!
\\ i you ¢ ive thanks, sweet Kate: or else shall 17—!I
What is this? mutton ?

|

Pet. Who broucht it?

] Sere, ]

Pet, =a to BOs nt; and so ts all the meat:

hat ck “rs i ‘ these 7—Wohere is the ras | cook

llow durst ye en Oiltaick berth
And serve it th is to me that Poe it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:

| They stand aside.
Enter Rianea and Lucentio.

Luc, Now, mistress, profit you in what you read ?
Bian. What, mast r, read you? first resolve me

that. P
Lic, lL read that I prole

ss, the art to love.

| Throws the meal, &c. about the stazve.| Lian. And may you prove, sir, master of your
You heedless joltheads, and uumanner’d slay art! :
What, do you grumble? Ill be with you straight. Tuc. Vehile you, sweet de ar, prove mistress of
Kath. | pray you, husband, be not so disquiet; my heurt. | They retire
The meat was well, if you were so contented Hior. Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me,
Pct. 1 tcll thee, Kate, "twas burnt and I pray,
AWAY > You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
And I express am forbid to touch it. LOov'd none in th vorld so weil as Lueentio.
lor it engenders choler, planteth O despiteful love! unconstant woman
And better ’twere, that both of us did fast. =s i
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,— I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
Than feed it with such over-roasted fles| /lor, Mistake no more: I am not Licio,
Be patient; to-morrow it shall be mended, Nor a musician, as I seem to be ;
And, for this nicht, we'll fast for compar ut one that scorn to live in this disguise,
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. | such a one as leaves a gentleman,
[Ereunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Curtis.| And makes a god of such a cullion :5
Nath. [dvancing.] Peter, didst ever see the| Know, sir, that 1 am call’d—Hortensio.

like }
Peter. He kills her in her own humour. if

Re-enter Curtis. |

Gru. Where is he? bo:

Curt. In her chamb P.
Makin ra sermon of continency |!

Tra. Sigentor Hortensio, [ have often heard

ire aflection to Bianca:

And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
will with you,—if you be so contented,—

zi r Bianea ind her love for ever.

lier. See, how the y kiss and court !——Signior

swivdie. dliyieas s, and rates ; that she, poor soul,) Here is my hand, and here . firmly vow—
Knows not which way to : i, to | ik:}| Never to woo her more: but do forswear her,
And sits as one new-risen from ad m. \ ne unworthy al! the former favours
Away, away! for he is coming hither. | ireunt.) That I have fondly flatter’d her withal.

: , Tra. And here [ take the hke unfeigned oath_—

Re-enter Pet aU. Ne’er to marry with her though she would entreat:
Pet. Thus.have I politicly begun my reign, Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him.
And ’tis my hope to end successtully Iior. ’WWould, all the world, but he, had quite
My fale nn wis sh rp, al 1} iSSiI empty forsworn !
And till she stoop. she must not be ful! rd, For me,—that I may surely keep mine oath,
For then she never looks upon her lure.! { will be married to a ae widow,
Another way I have to man my hag }2 Fre three days pass: th hath as long lov’d me,
To make her come, and know her keeper’s cal), As I have Jovw’d this cit disdainful haggard:
leit nd so farewell, signior Lucentio.—

That is,—to watch her, as we watch these Kites,

<indness In wom n, not their beauteous looks,

That bate,? and beat, and will not be obe rl
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; iSha!ll win my love :—and so I take my leave,
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ;|In resolution as I swore before.

As with the ocat: some undeserved faul
I’ll find about the making of the |

: 7 } ‘ . Tot -
And here Vl fling the pillow, there the bolster,

:
ed ;

[ rit Hortensio.—Luce. and Bian. advance,
Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
As *lonecth to a lover’s blessed case !

This way the coverl fd another way the shects:— | Nav, I have ta’en you napping, gentle love ;

Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend,*

That all is done im rever« nt care of her:

And, in cone lusion, she shall watch all nic!

And, if she chance to nod, Pll rail, and bri we |

And with the clamour keep her still awake. |
|
|

(1) A thing stuffed to look like the game which|
the hawk was to pursue.

(2) To tame my wild hawk,

 

And have forsworn you, with Hortensio,
Bian. Tranio, you jest; But have you both for-
sworn me ?
Tra. Mistress, we have.
Luc. Then we are rid of Licio,
Tra. Vfaith, he'll have a lusty widow now,

(3) Flutter. (4) Pretend,
(5) Despicable fellow, .

)ERNE man

a

cE ee

ee Vana a

 

   
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  

568 TAMING OF THE SHREW. Act IV.

ed. O, sur, 1 do; and will repute you ever

. pi tron a my life and liberty.

‘ra. Then go with me, fo make the matter good.
his, by the way, I let you underst und ;—

That shall be woo’d and wedded in a day.
Bian. God give him joy! TY
Tra. Ay, and he’ll tame her.

Bian. He says so, Tranio.|7J
Tra. ’Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. |My father is here look’d for every day,
Bian. The taming-schoo]! what, is there such|T'o pass assurance of a dower in marriage
a place ? ’T'wixt me and one Baptista’s daughter here :
Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master) In all! these circumst: ; Pll instruct you ;
That teacheth tricks eleven and tw: ntylong,— |Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you.
To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue. | [Exeunt.

‘Sa

° ¥ i o ‘7. Ty y = .
Enter Biondello running. ISCENE III.— A room in Petruchio’s house.
5 .. Enter Katharina and Grumio.
Bion. O master, master, I have watch’d so long, |
That I’m dog-weary ; but at last I spied | Gru. No, no; forsooth; I dare not, for my life.
An ancient ange!! coming down the hill | Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite
Will serve the turn. appears :
ry 4 = e ’ 5 TY 73 * - ‘Se : : . .
Tra. What is he, Biondello? | What, did he marry me to famish me ?

Bion. Master, a mercatanté, or a pedant,? ‘Beggars, that come unto my father’s door,

I know not what; but formal in apparel, Upon entreaty, have.a present alms;

In gait and countenance surely like a father. if not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
Luc. And what of him, Tranio ? 'But I,.—who never knew how to entreat,—
Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale, |Am starv’d for meat, giddy ( r li ick of sleep ;

I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio : | With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And give assurance to Baptista Minola | And that which spites me mort than all the se wants,

As if he were the right Vincentio. He does it under name of perfect love;
Take in your love, and then let me.alone. 1 As who should sav,—If I should sleep, or eat,
{Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. |’T were dead] ekness, 0} else present deat el
| Sart ann ; ry i ‘ +
ii p ee go, and ¢ me some repas
mire of Ped t } o . Bo ' ?
Ent ,y G2 CO ° | co snot wi s Hb whole . foc d.

Ped. God save you, sir! | Gyn. What sav vou to a ne aes foot ?

Tra. And you, sir! you-are welcome. k 1, Tis passin oa: ] pr’y thee let me
Travel you far on, or are you at the furthest | have it.

Ped, Sir, at the furthe t for a week or two: f + ' fear it is too cholertc a meat :—

But then up further, and as far as Rome ; | How say t {0 a fat tripe, finely broil’d 7?

And so to Tripoly, if God lend me Iile. | Kath. L like it well: ¢ Grum!o, fetch it me,
Tra. What countryman, [ pray? | Gru. Teannot tell: I fear ’tis choleric.

Ped. Of Mantua. What youtoanp of beef. and mustard ?
Tra. Of Mantua, sir ?—marry, God forbid! | Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.

And come to Padua, careless of your life? Fon Aw. but fae wustarnt is too Bot a Dit,
Ped, My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.{ Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard
Tra. ’Tis death for anv one in Mantua rest.

To come to Padua; Know you not the cause ? | Gru. Nev. then I will not: you shall have the

Your ships are staid at nice; and the dul tard.

(For private quarrel ’! ixt your duke and him,) lrelse vou cet no beef of Grumio.

Hath publish’d and proclaim’d it openly: | Kath. Then both, cr one, or any thing thou wilt.

*Tis marvel; but tha Pi. %

it
that paiten taal n ly come, ‘ru. Why, then the mustard without the beet.
You might have heard it else prociatm’d about. Kath. Go, eet thee cone, thou false deluding
Ped. Alas, sir, if is worse fur me than so; ; slave, ' I Beats hi im,
For I have bills for money by exchange Phat feed’st me with > very name of meat:
From wh tga: and must here deiiver them. yrrow on thee, and all the pack of you,
Tra. ell, Se ju COUTLeSY, t triumph thus upen my misery
THEO Ta eta thie il ls \ vou ;— Go, get thee gone, I :
First, tell me, have you ever been at P - at :
) ? " ° >? 1 . ' hoapfi o> b We » or a ae Peeoh i yy “t+ and LT
Ped. Ay, sir, in | isa heave ] at en been: “are rx | ] till « Clb y wd Ore
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens nN
Tra. Among them, know vou one Yincenhlio: Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweet ting, all
Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him; amort ?3
A merchant of incomparable wealth. | Stor, Mistress, what cheer?

ry . j 4} ; e ; 5y.*

Tra. He is my fathe cr, sir; and, sooth to say, | Kath. Faith, as cold as can be.
In countenance somewhat doth embie you, Pet. Plhick up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon

>. 1 } 4 ; - ™

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and n

all one. ls Iere, love: thou see’st how diligent [ am,
Tra To save vour eee I! this ‘ } r ly i} : + wrx 1c 1 We; » ¢ }
’ sa r dike it extremity }20 Gress thy meat myseil, and bring it thee
This favour will I do you for his s oe | Sets the dish on a table,
And think it not th worst ol ‘all your fortunes, fam sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks,
That your are lik to sir Vincentio. i\Vhat, nota word? Nay, then, thou Jov’st it not;
: . ‘ | 1} : . .
His name and credit shall you und rtale, | And all my pains is sorted to no proof :——
And in my house you shall | ndly lode’d;— |Here, take away this dis]
Look, that you take upon raul as you should; 1 Kath. ’Pray you, let it stand.
You understand me, sir: so shall y yu stay Pet, The poor st service 1s repaid with thanks ;
1 . . i *4 : : .
Til] you have done your business in the city: And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. | JXath. I thank you, sir.

 

41) Messenger. (2) A merchamt ora schoctshsiter. | (3) Dispirited; a gallicism,Scene IIT. TAMING O

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame!
Come, mistress Kate, Pll bear you company.
Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov’st me.—

[dsiile.
Much good do it unto thy gentle heart !
Kate, eal apace oe A | i now, my’ hones ki ve,
Will we return unto thy father’s house ;
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,

With rufls, and cuffs, and farthingales, and |

With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bra-
very,

With amber bracelets, beads, and all this ka

What, tail i

To deck thy body with his rutiling? treasure.

' ¢) ne scart 7
MASEL LOOU Gea i

Enter Haberda

Lay forth the gown —What news with you, sir?
Hab. Here is the’ cap your worshi
Pet. Why, this was m

A velvet dish :—fic, fic! ‘ts |

Why, ’tis a cockle, or a w

A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby’s «

Away with it, come, let! ray

At

Your betters have end \
And, if you cannot, best you stop
My tonvue will tell th

Or else my h irs. ¢ ce i , Wi
And, rather than it shall, | will |
Even to the uttermost, as |

Pet. Why, thou § viet ty ;
A custard-coffin,? a baub!
I love thee well, in that 1

Kath. Love me, or love me not, !

And it | will nave, Oo 1 will

Pet. Thy wown? why, ay :—Come, tailor, L us

see’ t. :

© merey, God! what mas! Tt
What's this ? a si \ | ty i
What! up and down, carv’d like a pie-tart
Here’s snip, and nip, and cut, and sit i si
Like to a censer* mm a | S10 ae
Why, what, o’devil’s name, tatior, ¢ "st tho

Hor. | sce, she’s like to , neither ca
gyoqWI. : led
Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashro nil

Pet. Marry, and did; but if you
I did not bid you mar it to the tim
Go, hop me over every ki nel hom
For you shall hop without my custom, Sir:
Pll none of it; henee, make your best of i
Kath, I never saw a better-ta woned gown,
m0) mmend-

More quaint,* more pleasing, nor more comn
able :
Belike you mean to make a puppe
Pet. Why, true ; he means to ma
thee.

; ;
r i TY

j reer ;
Ke & pul Ol

Finery. (2) Rustling.
. . ° 1 weet , mene
A coffin was the culinary term for raised c! ist,

(]
(

)
3)
(4)

Fr THE SHREW. 969

Or | hall so be-mete® the

These censers resembled our brasiers mi shape, '

; vrrg 1
Thou thimbd!
fhou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
Chou tlea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thow:—
Brav’d in mine own house with a skein of thread !

{way, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant ;

hee with thy yard,

\ t shalt think on prating whilst thou liv’st!

i te] ec, I, 1 thou hast marr’d her gown.

} ouc worship is deceiv’d; the gown is made

Justa my ws ropa cireetion:

\ io rave or r how it should be done.

Gru. | ve h io order, I eave him the stuff

But how did you cesire it should be made?

{ Mw \ ir, with needle and thread.
. BB Lic yt request to have it cut?
"EO hast faced many things,’

Gru, F not me: thou hast brav’d many men;
- | will neither be faced nor braved.
un! —! bid ft master cut out the

[did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo,
\ , ic note ol the fasnion totestily.
( in his throat, if he say I said so.

— aid loose-bodied crown,
n the skirts of it, and beat me to death

bottom of brown thread: I said, a gown
j ! \ :
j 2, = } G Cape 8
|
Ei Saltese
I
j \ ' ' ' . v.
? biil, sir: error Pthe bill. I
yes suuld be cut out, and
t I'll prove upon thee,
| ' rm’d in a thimble.
. that I y; an | had thee in
et enor it

i a : e st i {: take thow the bill,

‘

j l ~\ ‘ ul mire Now Mme.
Hor. God-a vy, Grumio! then he shall have
P Well. (— the cown is not for me,

Gru. You ithe rieht, sir: tis for my mistress.

ret. G tal moun ul thy master’s use,
Gru. Vi 1, not for thy life: Take up my mis-
ywn for thy master’s use !
Pet. Why, sir, what’s your conceit in that?
1. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think
.
r" cupy I > crown to his master’s use !
()
Pet. Vortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor

or ee [ Aside,
‘o take it hence: be gone, and say no more.
Hor. Tailor, Pll pay thee for thy gown to-mcr-

i

» no unkindness of his hasty words:
Away, [say; comm nd me to thy master.

[Exit Tailor.
Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your

(5) Curious. (6) Be-measure.
(7) Turned up many garments with facings,
(8) A round cape, (9) Measuring-yard,Sake en ie

   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
       
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
   

 

es ry
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E i
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a

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BAS

  

 

270 TAMING OF THE SHREW. Act IV.
Even in these honest mean habiliments ; :
Our purses shal! be proud, our garments poor: No worse than I, sir,—upon some agreement,
For ’tis the mind that makes the body rich ; Me shall you find most ready and most willing
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,/ With one consent to have her so bestow’d ;

So honour peereth? in the meanest habit. ‘lor curious? I cannot be with you,

What, is the jay more precious than the lark, |Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well,

Because his feathers are more beautiful ? | Bap, S:r, pardon.me in what I have to say ;—
Or is the adder better than the eel, Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well.
Because his painted skin contents the eye ? Right true it is, your son Lucentio here |

QO, no, good Kate : neither art thou the worse Doth love my daughter, and she loyeth him,

For this poor furniture, and mean array. Or both dissemble deeply their aflections ;_

If thou account’st it shame, lay it on me: And, therefore, if you say no more than this,

And therefore, frolic ; we will hence forthwith That like «a father you wiil deal with him,

To have him match’d; and,—if you please to like

 

To feast and sport us at thy father’s house.— ~~ Sind pass* my daughter a suflicient dower,
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him; |The match ts fully made, and all is done:
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end, |Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.— | “Z'ra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know
Let’s see; I think, ’tis now some seven o’clock, | best,
And well we may come there by dinner-time. We be affied ;* and such assurance ta’en,
Kath. I dare assure you, sir, ’tis almost two; | As shall with either part’s agreement stand ?
And ’twill be supper-time, ere you come there. Bup. Notin my house, Lucentio ; for, you know,
Pet. It shall be seven, ere I go to horse: Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants :
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, Besides, old Gremio is heark’ning still ;

You are still crossing it.—Sirs, let’t alone: And, happily,® we might be interrupted.
I will not go to-day ; and ere I do, | Zra. Then at my lodging, an it hike yOu, sir:
It shall be what o’clock | say it is. There doth my father lie: and there, this night,
Hor, Why so! this gallant will command the sun.!Ve'll pass the business private ly and well:
[Eveunt.|Send for your daughter by your servant here,

_ My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
SCENE IV.—Padua.— Before Baptista’s house. Che worst is this, —that. at so sleek r warning
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vin- You’re like to have a thin and slender pittance.
centio. Bap. It likes me well ;—Cambio, hie you home,
fra, Sir, this is the house ; Please it you, that I} And bid Bianca make her ready straight -
call ? iAnd, if you will, tell what hath happened ;—
Ped. Ay, what else ? and, but I be deceive d, Lucentio’s father is arriv’d in Padua,
Signior Baptista may remember me, And how she’s like to be Lucentio’s wife.

Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, where | duc. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart!
We were lodgers at the Pegasus. | ra, Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
ra. ’Tis well; |Sienior Baptista, shall I lead the way

And hold your own, in any case, with such | Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer:
Austerity as ’longeth to a father, }Come, sir; we'll better it in Pisa,
Enter Biondcllo. | Bap. I follow you.

[Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista.

. : . = o i ad pe iy a ‘ . ;
Ped. 1 warrant you: But, sir, here comes your Nein Qivenlrigicien

|
o pers, a | ENC, _ What say’st thou, Biondello?
were good he were school’d. a | Dion. You saw my master wink and laugh upon
Tra. Fear you not bim. Sirrah, Biondcllo, vou? ; '

_— do yee auty ey A asia, you; | Ene. Biondello, what of that?
9 > , » Tic wh ( : aya: .
macine Were the rignt Vincentio. | Bion, taith, nothing ; but he has Iefl me here
Bion, Tut! fear not me. behind, to expound the meaning or moral’ of his
+ . ‘ , ; uf .
Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista ?| ions and iokens ,
Bion. 1 told him, that your father was at Venice :| "Lue. pray thee srolice
2 : ye : ; Ate. 1 pray thee, moralize them.
And that you look’d for him this day in Padua. | Bion. Then thus, Baptista is safe talkine with
Tra. Thou’rt a tall? fellow; hold thee that to the dede; le KP. te ae ee
; Lie Gecelvines tatner of i Geceilful son,

H eer tA sa : | Lue. And what of him?
erecomes bapusta :—sel your countenance SU.) Dion. His dau hter is to be brought by you to
Enter Baptista and Lucentio. the supper.

fate. And then ?—
Bion. The old priest at Saint Luke’s church is

'
Signior Baptista, you are haply met :—
|
|
jal your comumand at all hours.

Sir, [To the Pedant. ]
This is the gentleman I told you of;
I pray you, stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Ped. Soft, son !—
Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua
To geet in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself: |

Luc. And what of all this?

Bion. 1 cannot tell; except they are busied
about a counterfeitassurance: Take your assurance
fof her, cum privilegzio ad imprimendum solum :
ito the church; take the priest, clerk, and some

lsuilicient honest wilnesses:

It this be not that you look for, I have no more to

SAY,
But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day.

Going.

|
And,—for the good report [ hear of you:
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him,—to stay him not too long, : ‘a
Tam content, in a good father’s care, Tuc. Wear’st thou, Biondello ?
| Bion. 1 cannot tarry: I knew a wench married
ta} Appeareth, (2) Brave. (3) Serupulous. |

4) Assure or convey. (5) Betrothed, (G) Accidentally, (7) Secret purpose,in an afternoon as she went to the garden for p:
ley to stuff a rabbit; and so m: LY yOu, Sir, a

Scene I. TAMING OF TI

IEF SHREW, 271

pars-| Which way thou travellest: if along with us,
id solv

ve shall be joyful of thy company.
adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me togoto! Vin. Fair sir—and you my merry mistress,
Saint Luke’s, to bid the priest bd ready to come!That "with your strange encounter much amaz’d
against you come with your appendix, [| Exit. me ;

Luc. 1 may, and will, if she be so contented :
She will be ple is’d, then wherefore should | doubt
Hap what hap m: Ly, Pll roundly zo about her ;

It shall go hard, if 6 ambio go without her, [Evit.|

SCENE V —f public road. Enter Petruchio.|

Katharina, and Hortensio.

Pet. Come on, o’ God’s name:
ward our father’s.
Good Lord, how bright and ¢

dly in gthe yi
shine Lil moon

Kath. The moon! the : mm: ii is not moonlich
now,

Pet. | say, it is the moon that shines so bright.

Kath. 7 know, it is the sun that shines so bright.

Pet. Now , by my mother’s son, and that’s myself.
It shall be mi yon, or star, or what I list

;
Or ere I journey to your father’s house :—
Gro on, and fetch our horses back avain.—
Evermore cross’d, and cross’d: nothing but er ‘a!
Hi Yr. Say as he s ¥s, Or We Shall ney
Aath. Forward, I pray, since we have « s
lar,
And be it moon, or sun, or what vou pl!

And if you please to call it a rush ca
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for m
9 say, it is. the moon.
Kath. I know it is.
Pet. Nay, hen you li il is the blessed Stir.
Kath. Then, God “a ble s’d, it is the blessed
sun :—

Sut sun it is not, when you say il is not :
And the moon chanves, even as your mine
What you will have it nam’d, even tf pal il is
And so it shall be so, for hatharine.

Hor, Petruchio, go thy ways: the ficld is won
Pel. Well, forward, forward: thus the bow!
should run,
And not unluckily against the bias.—
But soft; what company is coming here?
Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dres
Gvuod-morrow, gentle mistress: Where away ?—
re Vinecentio
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher centlewoman ?
Such war of white and red within her cheek
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauts
As those two eves bécome that heavenly face /—
Fair lovely maid, once m
pweel Kale, embrace her for her be Luly *s sake.
Hor. 7A will make the man mad, to make a
woman of him.
Kath. Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and
sweet,
Whither away ; or where is thy abod
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourab le stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow!
Pet. Why, how now, Kate! I Sade thou art not
mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither’d ;
And not a maiden, as thou say’st he is.
Kath, Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun,
That every thing I look on seemeth green:
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father ;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. ,

Pet. Do, good old grandsire; and, withal, mak

known

re rood day to tnee :—

d wh I

My name is ca]? d—Vit icentio; my dwelling—Pisa ;
1nd bound | am to e adua : the re to visit
\ son of mine, which long I have not seen,
ar Whiat is his name ?
p Lucentio, gentle sir,
Pet. Happily met; the happier for thy son,
And now by law, as well as revere nd age,
I may entitle thee —mnv¥ loving futher
Che sister to my wife, this sth sleetiea ts
hy son by this h ith marrie d: W onder not,
Nor be not griev’d; she is of sood esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;
=.

reside, so qualiticd as may beseeni

r} . j 1]
Lie Spouse of any movie gent leman.
Let me ¢ hye with old Vineentio:
And wander we to see thy honest son,
\\ > vesll nf th rit | be full j . :
‘yIIO Wilt OF LIV rivai ve lu Joyous,
Yin. B s true! or isit else your pleasure,
eg at 4 '
im HNeasal I vellers, to break a jest
‘ ny vou overt ike
Hor. 1 thee, father, so it is,
ict. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
ol FI ti riy t hath made thee } alous.
i / Petruchio, Katharina, end Vincentio.
ior... Well. Pet uchio, this hath put me in heart.
LI : vY? “1 » nal a} he forw: |
riny } Widow adoiesne be lorward,
|° ; i try iy Lhe i <1 hep " “d
i 1 | Lhou t i riensio Lo be untoward,
[Exit,
~Q-
reyy r
\( i V.
SCEME I.—Pad Before Lueentio’s house.
unter on on le Biondello, Lueentio, and Bi-
nea; Gremio walking on the olher side.
Bion. Softly and swifilr,. sir; for the priest
;
Luc. I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to
ced 1] t hom , therefore leave us.
Bion. Noy, faith, Pll see the chureh o? your
|] ind Lien come back to my inaster as soon

/ | /reunt Luc. Bian. and Bion.
Gre. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.

Enter Petruchio, Katharina, Vincentio, and af-
lendants.

Pel. Sir, here’s the door, this is Lucentio’s house.
My father’s boars more toward the market-place ;
Phither must I, and here I leave you, sir.

Vin. Youshall not choose but d rink before you

£0:
[ think, 1 shall command your welcome here,
And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward.
[ Knocks,
Gre. They’re busy within, you were best knock

Enter Pedant above al a window.
Ped. What's

hea gata 7

ne Pau
Vin. Is sienior ou within, sir?
Ped. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.
Vin. What ifa man bene ¢ him a hundred pound

, that knocks as he would beat

or two, to make merry withal ?

Ped. Ke ep your hundred pounds to yourself: he

shall need none, so long as I live.
Pct, Nay, I told you, your son was beloved inSe Rr ee Nee Ui a

072 AMING OF

Padua.—Do you hear, sir?

—to leave frivolous cir

- Li cumstances,—I pray you, te Il signior Li
: fi that his father is come from Pisa, ard is here a
ir the door to speak with him.

ie le Ped. Thou liest
and here looking out at the window.

- his father is come from Pisa
; his father is come from Pisa,

   
  
   
   
   
    
    
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
  
 
   
 
   
   
   
 
  
 
 
    
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
    
  
   

‘HE SHREW. Act V

‘name :—O, my son, my son !—tell me, thou villain,

icentio, | where is my son L ucentio ?

Call forth an officer: [Enter one with an

officer.] carry this mad knave to the gaol:—Father

Baptista, I charge you see, that he be forth-coming.
Vin. Garry me to the g: aol! '

fh Tra.

a Vin. Art thou his father ? | Gre. Stay, officer ; he shi ll not go to prison.
} Ped. Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may be-) Bap. Talk not, signior Gremio; I say, he shall
5 f lieve her. vo to prison. ,
ft Pet. Why, how, now, gentlemen! [Jo Vincen.]| Gre. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be
H why, this is flat knavery, to take upon you another|conyca tche 12 in this business; I dare swear, this
i man’s name. is the ht Vineentio.
F Ped. Lay hands on the villain; I believe ’a) P. d. Swear, if thou darest,
: means to cozen somebody in this city under my| Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it.
: countenance. | T'ra. Then thou wert best say, that I am not
i one, PY de eee re 'Lueentio,
I ease | Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio.
i Bion. J have secn them in the church togethe1 Bap. Away with the dotard ; to the gaol with
i God send ’em good shinping !—But who is here ?| him,
i mine old muster, Vincentio? now we are undon Vin. Thus strangers may be haled and abus’d:—
i and brougnt to nothing, O soosatents villain !
‘i Vin. Come hither, crack-hemp.
| | Seeing Biondello.! Re-enter Biondello, with Lucentio, and Bianca.
Bion. 1 hope, I may choose, sir
‘ Vin. Come, hither, you rogue; What, have you Bion. O, we are spoiled, and—Yonder he is;
i forgot me ! deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone.
; 310n. Fen you? no, sir: I could t forget Luc. Pardon, sweet father. [ Kneeling.
i you, for I never saw you before in all my life. 7" Lives my sweetest son ?
Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou [Biondello, Tranio, and Pedant, run oul.
4 never see thy master’s father, Vincentio ¢ m. Pardon, dear father. [ Kneeling.
4 Bion. What, my old, worshipful old master?] 2 {iow hast thou offended ?—
5 yes, marry, sir ; see where he looks out of win-| Vh is Lucentio ?
. dow. | - Here’s Lucentio,
4 Vin. Is’t so, indeed ? [ Beats |] lcllo. | Right son unto the right Vincentio ;
Bion. Help, help, help! here’s a 1 ie have by marriage made oS aughter mine,
: murder me. [ Ewit.| While counterfeit supposes blear’d thine eyne.?
Ped. Help, son! help, sicnior Baptista ! Gre. Here’s packing,* with a " witaebs, to deceive
{} } 101 | ill!
Pet. Pr’ythee, Kate, let? | rid s Vin. Where is that damned villain, Tranio,
the end of this controversy. [They ret That fae’d and brav’d me in this matter so ?
. — ] Ww) ell me, is not this my Cambio?
Re-enter Pedant below ; Bapti oN ), an i cf io is chane’d into Lucentio.
| servant ] eve wrought these miracles. Bianca’s love
Tra. Sir, what are you, that ofler to beat my Vi me exchange my state with Tranio,
servant ? ~ |While he did bear my coun tenance in the town;
Vin. What am], sir? nav, whatare you, sir?—/And happily I hay riv’d at last
O immortal gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet!| Unto the y hed eave oF my bliss :—
a velvet hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat!!!What Tranio did, myself enfore’d him to ;
—O, lam undone! | am unde vt le I play the} Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.
g< od husband at home, iny sa i. my servant Vy Ill slit the villain’s nose, that would have
spend all at the university, seri me to th ol.
Tra. How now! what’s the matter ? | Bap. But do vou hea | To Lucentio.] Have
Bap. What, is the man lunat« lyou married my daughter without asking my good-
Tra. Sir, you'scem a sobe: ancient gentlem vill ? 7,
by your habit, but your words show you a mad- } Fear not, Baptista; we will content you,
man: Why, sir, what concerns it vou, if I wea ! 3 I will in, to be revenged for this vill: iny.
pearl and gold? I thank my good father, I am abl Fxil
to maintain it, jap. And T, to sound the depth of this knhavery.
Vin. Thy father? O, villain! hei sail-mak { Exit.
in Bergamo | Lue. Look not pale, Bianea; thy father will] net
Bap. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir; Pray, frow! | Ereunt Lue. and Bian.
what de you think is his name? | Gre. My cake is dough: But Pll in among the
Vin. His name ? as if [ es n his name }! rest: ©
have brought him up ever since he was three years Out of hope of all,—but my siiare of the feast.
old, and his name is—T'ranio. [ Evit.
i Ped. Away, away, mad ass! his nani is Lues n-| : Petruchio oh ’ Kathari ina advance.
, tio!—and he is mine only son, ind heir to the lands! Kath. Hus b let's follow, to see the end ol
i of me, signior Vincentio. this a
if Vin. Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his mas-| et. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
ter !—Lay hold on him, I charge you, in the duke’s| Kath, What, in the midst of the street?
: se Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me?
(1) A hat with a conical crown.
2) Cheated. (3) Deceived thy eves, (5) A proverbial expression r¢ peated aller a
4) Tricking, underhand contrivances, disappointment,Scene JT.

Kath. No, si:
Pet. Why, then let

le v 8 away,
Kath, N: ay,

thee ; love, stay.

Pet. Is not this well ?—Come

Better once than never,

SCENE II.—/ room

banquet set out.

E
,)
ati

I will give

¢
}

; God forbid » aol Uf
,
s home a

c

LA

4} 1 «
uee a

;

A

er Baptist

TAMI

. sy
for never

in Li

9
‘

1

icentio’

S

Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, Bian

Kath: rin: L,
Biondello

Luc. At last, thou
agree :
And time it is, when ra
To smile at’ ar sand
My fair Bianea, bid my

Hor

, Grumio, a

“Le nsi ,

;
file

/

' ;
(littl

{ bers,

While I with se We denis kind ne

Brother Petruchio,—sister
Hortensio, with
we

And thou,
_ Feast with the best, and
My banquet! is to clo

our
After our great cood cheer:

For now we sit to chat, a

Pet. Nothing but sif
Pet. Padua affords n
Hor. For both
aan » true
Noe for my li fe,
hen never tru
"von
Se nse °
Horten:
He that is
roun 1.
Pet. Roundly replied.
Kath.
Wid.
Pet.

our

Pet.
W id
Pel. are
I mean,

bid.

Thus I concety
Conce ives
tha
My
tale.

Pet. Very well mend:
widow.
Kath. He that
round :—
J pray you, tell me wha
Wid. Your husband
shrew,
Measures my husband’s

Hor.

VW id VW

is

And now you know my m«
A very mean meanin

Kath,

Wid.

Kath.

Pet. To her, Kate!

Hor. To her, widow

Pet. A hundred
down.

t

Hor.

Bap. How likes Gremio these qui:
butt to

Believe me, sir,
Head,

your head:

Cre.
Biun.
‘ould say,
Vin. Ay,
Bian. Ay, but

sleep again.
oak

es, &c,

<

310 is aft

And I am mean,
That’s my office.
Pet. Spoke like an officer
’
t

mistress bride,
not [rig

}

and s}
Bap. Padua affords this kind

i}

Horte

ry

SCNSLDIK

hye

}

ul

and butt?
nd butt

;

[ Dri

a bh
a tid

el, 4} .
Ln in

hte d me

catia. f

?

YY)

i

is 3

too lat

NG OF

gain pn ome,

mak

em

Sirré

as
wito?}

) A banquet was a refection consisting of fruit,

THE SHREW.

, ° ’
Pel. Nay, that you shall not; since you have
he run,
tha you for a bil ter jest or two,
bran. Am [your bird? I mean to shift my bush,
ind then pursue me as you draw your bow t=
10u are Welcome all.
[| Exeunt Bianca, Katharina, and Widow.
Ds fC haf} ib erin? s > > ~} i
ret..-{ hath prevented me.—Here, Signior
A FUNnLO,
This bird you aim’d at, though you hit her not;

lherefore, a health hs ‘all that shot and miss rd.

l ©, sir, Lucentio slipp’d me like his grey-
Which run himself, and eatches for his master.

- 1 Swill? simil e, but something currish, '

] well, sir. hat you hunted for yourself;

"Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
- O ho, Petruchio, Tra inio hits you now.

] I tl thee for that gird,* good Tranio,
flor, Contless, confess, hath he not hit you here ?
j "Ah litle gall’d me, I confess ;
he jest did glance away from me,
. n one it maim’d you two outright.
Now, in vood sad ine ss, son Petruchio,
t} has the veriest shrew of all.
Well, 1 say—no: and therefore, for assue
I ie.
ich one send unto his wife ;
wife is most obedient
, when he doth send for her,
n the wager which we will propose,
i C t:——WVhat is the wager ?
j Twenty crowns.
; crowns !
Pil venti ymuch on my hawk, or hound,
But twenty f nes 60 much upon my wife.
\ hundred then.
Hor. Content.
! A match ; ’tis done,
s107, VV 10 shall | Sin §
LUC. That will I. Go,
lo, bid your mistress come to me.
1. L go. [ Exit.
S I will be your half, Bianca comes.
] il ve no s; [ll bear it all myself,
Re-enler Biondello.
tlow now! what news ?
Sir, my mistress sends you word,
r b nd she cannot come.
Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot come !
iS anh 2nSwer i
Gre. Ay, and a kind one too:
P Grod, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.
H Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my

: forthwith. | Exit Biondello.
Pet, Q, ho! entreat her!
» must needs come.

Hor. I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated,

Re-enter Biondello.

Now, where’s my wife?
Bion She saj s, you have some goodly jest in
nand .
She will not come; she bids you come to her.
Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come! Q
vile,

Intolerable, not to be endur’d !
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ;

2) Dreads, 3) Witty. 4) Sare
(2) (3) e hi (4) AST,ers

   
    
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
     
  
    
   
  

 

 

 

iat

Bay, {comnmian her come to tae. [vit Grumio.
i . I know her answer.
Pet, What?
Hor. . She will not come.
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

Enter Katharina.
Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katha-
rina!
Kath, What is your will, sir, that you send for
me ?
Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio’s wife ?
Kath, They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
Pet. Go, tetch them hither; if they deny to
come,
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands :
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Katharina.
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor. And so itis: I wonder what it bodes.
Pet, Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet
life,
An awful rule, and right supremacy ;
And, to be short, what not, that’s sweet and happy.
Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ;
Another dowry to another da» zhter,
For she is chang’d, as she he never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my v ger better yet ;
And show more sign of her o :dience,
Her new-built virtue and obe‘ience.
Re-enter Katharina, with Biunca, and Widow.
See, where she comes; and rings your froward
wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.—
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not ;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.
[Katharina pulls off her cap, and throws it down.
Wid. Lord, let me never ha a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a silly pass!
Bian. Fie! what a foolish dity call you this ?
: uc. I would, your duty were as foolish too:
The wisdom of your duty, fair Sianca,
Hath cost me a hundred crown. since supper-time.
Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my|
duty.
Fet. Katharine, I charge the, tell these head-
strong women
V hat duty they do owe their lo-ds and husbands.
Wid. Come, come, you’re : iocking; we will
have no telling,
Pet. Come on, I say ; and firs: begin with her.
Vid, She shall not.
Yet. Tsay, she shall ;—and firs begin with her.
-.ath, Fie, fie! unknit that tl reat’ning unkind
brow;
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
Tv wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor :
It biots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ;
Cunfounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds ;
Are in no sense is meet, or amiable.
A voman mov’d, is like a fountain troubled,
ly ddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Vill deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.

  

O74 TAMING OF THE SHREW, Act P

Thy head, thy sovereioh; 6né that ¢ares for thée,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful Jabour, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, seeure and safe ,
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
But love, fair looks, and true obedience ;—
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such, a woman oweth to her husband:
And, when she’s froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And, not obedient to his honest wall,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
[am asham/’d, that women are so simple
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace ,
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ;
But that our soft conditions,' and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts ?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great; my reason, haply, more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown.
But now, I see our lances are but straws ;
Our strength as weak, our weakness past com
pare,—
That seeming to be most, which we least are.
Then vail your stomachs,? for it is no boot :
And place your hands below your husband’s foot +
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
Pet. Why, there’s a wench !—Come on, and kiss
me, Kate.
Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad ; for thou shalt
ha’t.
Vin. ’Tis a good hearing, when children are
toward.
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are
froward.
Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed :——
We three are married, but you two are sped.
"Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white ;
{ To Lucentio.
And, being a winner, God give you good night!
[Exeunt Petruchio and Kath.
Hor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tam’d a curst
shrew.
Luc. ’Tis a wonder, by your le ave, she will be
tam’d so, {Exeunt

—<———~

Of this play the two plots are so well united
that they can hardly be called two, without injury
to the art with which they are interwoven. ‘The
attention is entertained with all the variety of a
double plot, yet is not distracted by unconnected
incidents, E

The part between Katharine and Petruchio is
eminently sprightly and diverting. Atthe marriage
of Bianca, the arrival of the real father, perhaps
produces more perplexity than pleasure. The
whole play is very popular and diverting.

 

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
(1) Gentle temper,

JOHNSON,

(2) Abate your spirits,aon ——

be \\
x

EN

[aN

xs

IeS

| als

aS?

  
 

— ee

WINTER’S TALE.
Act IV .—Scene 3.

 

COMEDY OF ERRORS.
Aci V.~-NScene 1.of

Eee es

 

&
:S75 }

WINTER'S TAL

PERSONS RI
Leontes, } ine o} Sicuia
MM: umillius, J his son,
Camillo,

Antigonus, Sicilian lorids,

Cleomenes,
Dion,
Tholher Stcu Lien i lo rid,
Ko; rero, a Sicilian rentli Min.
“ln allenda if on Lhe youne prince a ius,
Offic crs of i ci url of plu allure
Polixenes, king of Bohemia.
Florizel, Ai n.
Archidamus, a Bi nian lord
A ; rin r
(; wler
Jin old sheph L 9 led father of Pe f
AU'T ]
SCENE J.—Sicili in Antecham 1 Leon-
tes’ palace. Enter Camillo and Archidamus
; ;
lr yOu shall har ce. & millo, { Vv) if ; rh mia, On
ihe Like VCCASiION WHCTCOM mv s vices a now on
foot, you shall s s|} \ Sid eat dillerence
betwixt our Bohemia and vou Sicili
Cam, I think, this coming summer, the king of
cilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which
re just tly Owes his ii.
Arch. Wherein our entert uinment shall shame

us, we will be justified in our loves: for, indeed. —
Ca it. "Bese  ¥You.——
rch. Verily, | S| ik it in the free lom of my
knowledg: we cannot with such marnilicence—
: : : a ‘4 sae ae bY i
in so rare—I know not what to say. ve Wi

drinks : that

give you sleep) your senses, unintelli-
gent of our imsullicience, may, though the y can-
not praise u litde accuse us.

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear, for what’s
given freely.

rch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding
metructs me, and as mine ho puts it to utter-|
nce,

Cam. Sicilia cant shot mself over-lind to
Bohemian. Thev we ré ' med together in their
childhoods imi there rooted betwixt them then
such an affection. w ich cannot choose but branch |!
now. Since their more mature } eae ind roy il
necessities, made separation of thei verde ety their
encounters, thouch not person il, have b en royally
altornied' with interchance of wills, let : "eG Ving

|

seeme | to be ‘Gireten

rand

t they h

shook hand

embassies: tha ave

though absent ; as over u Vastl

:

embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed
} } ‘ : ' i

winds The heavens continee their loves!
; ; ; ao “
Irch. | think, there is not in the world eithe:

Nobly supplied |

Ww ide W as te

(1
(2

by substitution of embassies.
of country. '

) J
)

Lo pe

-PRESENTED.

Clown, his son.

Servant to the old
Autolycus,
lone a

’

cae
SHEPNE Us
airorite,

y Chorus.

Hermione, queen lo Leontes.

Perdita, da gehter to Leontes and Hermione.
Paulina, wife lo Anliz
Emilia, a lady, )
Two other ladies, §
VMopsa, 2
Dorcas,

onus,
allending the queen,

Shep! icr rce ssC$.

Lords, ladies, and attendants : salyrs for a dance,
g/ phei ds, shepherde SES, KI uarils, VC.
scene, somelimes in Sicilia, sometimes in Bohemia.

malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an un-
peakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius ;
itis a gentleman of the greatest promise, that ever
cume into my note,

Cam. | very well agree with you in the hopes of
him: if gallant child; one that, indeed, phy-

Ssics lhe subject,” makes old hearts fresh:

they, that
he

went on cr was born, desire yet their

ulches ere

life, to see him a man.

-Irch. Would they else be content to die?

Cam. Yes: if there were no other excuse why
they shoul rae to live.

-Irch. Ifthe king had no son, the y would desire
to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The same. A room of state in the
Enter Polixe ‘nes, Hermione,
millius, C and allendants.

ace,

pa Leontes,
M amillo,
Pol. Nine changes of the wat’ry star have been
The shepherd’s note, since we have left our throne
Without a burden: time as long again
Would be fil?d up, my brother, with our thanks :
(nd yet we should, for perpetuity,
Go hence in debt: And therefore, ‘like a cipher,
Yet standing in rich place, | multip ly,
With one we-thank-you, man} thousands more
That go before it.
Leon. Stay your thanks awhile ;
And pay them when you part.
Pol, Sir, that’s to-morrow.
‘ am question’d by my fears, of what may chance,
‘breed upon our absence: That mz iy blow
No sneaping* winds at home, to make us say,
This is pul forth too truly! Besides, I have stay d
your royalty,
rat yall)
Than you can put us to’t.

Pol

We are tougher, brother,

No longer stay,
Leon. seven-night longe r

Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow.
Leon. We'll part the time between’s then : and
in that

One

(3) Affords a cordial to the state, (4) Nipping,tee ty sary are oe

t76

I'll no gain-saying.
Pol, Press me not, ’beseech you, so;

WINTER'S TALE.

      

Act 1,

Vith stronger blood, we should have answer’d
heaven

There is no tongue that moves, none, none i ‘the Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear’d,

world
Sc soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,
W :re there necessity in your request, although
*T were needful I denied it. My affairs
Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder,
Were, in your love, 2 whip to me; my stay,
To you a charge, and trouble: to save both,
Farewell, our brother.
Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you.
Her. I Lad thought, sir, to have held my peace,
until
You had drawn oaths from him, notto stay. You,
Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sae
Allin Bohemia’s well: this satistaction
The by-gone day proclaim’d ; say this to him,
He’s beat from his best ward.

Leon. Well said, Hermione.

Her, To tell, he longs to see his son, were stron:
But let him s say sO then, and let him go ;
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,
We'll thwack him hence with distafls.—
Yet of your royal presence | 7’ Polixenes.
venture
The borrow ofa week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, ’ll give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest!
Prefix’d for his parting : yet, cood deed,?
I love thee not a jar’ o’ the c ‘loc k be} hin |
What lady she her lord.—You’ll sta)
Pol.

Her. Nay, but you will ?
Pol, I may not, verily.
Her. Verily!

You put me off with limber* vows: But I,

Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with|OrI mistake you:

oaths,
Should yet say, Sir, no zoing. Verily
You shall not go; a lady's ve rily is
As potent as a lord’s. Will you go yet?
Foree me to keep you as a prisoner
Not like a guest; so you shall pay 5 bur fees,
When you depart, and s: ave your thanks. _ How say
you?
My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread verily,
One of them you shall be. .

T

)
Pol. Vdur ruest then, madam:/|T

7

To be your prisoner, should import offending
Which is for me less easy to commi t,
Than you to punish.

Her. Not your gaoler then,
But your kind hostess, Come, i’l! question you
Of my lord’s tricks, and yours, when you were

boys ; ,
You were pretty lordings’ then.

P We were, fair queen,
Two lads , that thought there was no more be ‘hind,
But such a day to-morrow as to-day,

And to be boy eternal.
Her. Was not my lord the verier wag 0’ the two’
Pol, We were as twinn’d lambs, that did frisk

i the sun,

And bleat the one at the other: what we chane’d,

Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not

The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream’d

That any did: Had we pursued that life,

And our weak spirits ne’er been higher rear’d

,

(1) Gests were the names of the stages where
the king appointed to lie, during a royal progress,

(2) Indeed. (3) Tick, (4) Flimsy,

(5) A diminutive of lords,

Ne, madam.

] Pll ad-

Leontes,

|
|
|
|

|
|
|

|

   

Why, that’s my bawcock.®

lone ditary ours.®

Her, By this we gather,
VY ou have tripp’d since.
Pol. O my most sacred lady,

(Temptations have since then been born to us: for
|In those unfledg’d days was my wife a girl ;
|Your precious self had then not ecross’d the eyes
|Of my young play-fellow.

Her. Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion ; lest you say,
Your queen and I are devils: Yet, go on;
The offences we have made you do, we’ll answer ;
IIe you first sinn’d with us, and that with us
You did continue fault, and that you slipp’d not
With any but with us,

Leon. Is he won yet?
Her. He'll stay, my lord.
Leon. At my request, he would not.

Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok’st

To better purpose.
Her Never ?
Leon. Never, but once.
Iler. What? have I twice said well? when
was’t before ?
I pr’ythee, tell me: C
make us
\s fat as tame things: One good deed, dying
tongueless

ram us with praise, and

;
aughters a thousand, waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages: You may ride us,
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere

Vith spur we heat an acre. But to the goal ;—
My last good was roe reat his stay ;
What was my fi ? it has an elder sister,
0, would her name were Grace!

SI

But once before ] spoke to the purpose, When?
Nay, iet me have’t : L kc ng.
Leon. Why, that was when
Three crabbed months had sour Hh themselyes to

death,

Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,

And clap thys< If my love:

then didst thou utter,
I am yours Jor ever,

Her. It is Grace, indeed,
Vhy, lo you now, tha ive spoke to the purpose twice:
he one for ever earn’d a royal hu isband ;
‘he oth r, for some while a friend

[ Giving her hand to Polixenes.

Leon. Too hot, too hot: [.Aaside.
To n ung le friendship far, is min, ling bloods,
I have tremor cordis’? on me: n iy heart dances ;
But not t for V,—not joy.—This entert Maman

May a free face put on; derive a libert
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile b som,
And well become the agent: it may, I grant:
But to be paddling palms, and pine hing fin: gers,
As now they ‘are; and making practis’d smi les,
As in a looking-elass :—and the n to sigh, as *twere
The mort o’the deer ;* ©, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows.—Mamillius,
Art t) hou my boy?

Mam. Ay, my good ford.

Leon. Pfecks ?
What, hast smutch’d

thy nose ?—

They say, it’s a copy out of mine. Come, captain.
(6) Setting aside original sin.
(7) Trembling of the heart,
(8) The tune pl iyed at the death of the deer,
(9) Hearty fellow,

~Scene LI.

We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly,
And yet the steer, ‘the heife r, and the c alf,
Are all call’d, ne at.—Still virginalling'

[ Observing Polixenes and Hermione.
Upon his palm ?—How now, you wanton calf?
Art thou my calf? ’

captain :

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord,
Leon. Thou want’st a rough pash, and the shoot
that | have,?
To be full like me :—yet, they say, we art
Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
That will say any thing: But were they falsi
As o’er-died blacks, as wind, as W aters; false
As dice are to be wish’d, by ¢ one that fixes
No bourn® twixt his and mine; yet we if true
To say this boy were like me.—Come, sir page
Look on me with your welkin* eye: Sweet villain!
Most dear’st! my collop!—Can thy dam ?—may’t
be ?
Affection ! thy infection stabs the centre
Thou dost make possible, things not so held,
Communicat’st withdre ams;--( i400 can this be?)—

With what’s unreal thou c

And fellow’st nothing: The n, lis very credent.
Thou may’st co-join with somethin nd thou
dost :

(And that beyond commission ;

And that to the infection of my bi ‘

And hardening of my brows
Pol. What means Sicilza
Her. He something seems unsetiled.
Pol. Liow, 1

VW ha it cheer f how is’t with yi u. | :

Her. ¥ ou look.
As if you held a brow of much distra
Are you mov'd, my lord

Leon. N ee
How sometimes nature Ww ill be v
Its tenderness, and make i
To harder | soms ! L, ia on ul lil
U1 mv boy’s face, methouchts, Id
Twenty-three years; and mt ii
In my green velvs tcoat: my r muzzled,
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
As ornaments of1 do, too dancerous.,
How like, methoucht, I then was to this kernel,
This squash,® this gentleman :—1 e | t {ri
Will vou take egas for money

Mam. No, my lord, I’!! fight

Leon. You will? why, ha man be his dole !*—

My brother,

Are you so fond ol y our young pru ' we

Do seem to be of ours ?
Pol.

He’s all my exerci: e, my B ,» my

Now my sworn friend, and then mint

My parasite, my soldi ry statesman, all
He oben a July’s day short as December:
And, with his varying ¢ shildne ss, cures iInme

blood.

Ttouchts that would thick my |
Leon. So stands this squire
Offic’d with me: We two will walk, my lord,

pe leave you to your graver st ps.—I Te rmione,

How thou lov’st us, show in our brother’s we lcome;

Let what is dear in Sicily, be

- xt to thyself, and my young rover,
Apparent? to my heart.

” Hler

(1) i. ¢. Playing wit

cheap he?
1¢'3

If you would seck us,

h her fingers as if on a spinnet.

(2) Thou wantest a rough head, and the budding|

horns that I have.
(3) Boundary.

(4) Blue. (5) Credible,
(6) Pea-cod. 7

(7) Will you be cajoled?

WINTER'S

TALE, 277

We are yours i’the garden: Shall’s attend you

there ?
Leon. ‘To your own bents dispose you: you'll be
found,
Be you beneath the sky :—I am angling now,
Tho ugh you perceive me not how I give line.
Go t >, go to!
|/side. Observing Polixenes and Hermione.
Low she holds up the neb, '* the bill to him!
And arms her with the boldness of a wife
To her allowing’! husband! Gone already;
Inch-thick, knee-deep ; o’er head and ears a fork’d
one, '?—
| /awveunt Polixenes, Hermione, and attendants.
Go, play, boy, play ;—thy mother plays, and I
Play too; but so disgrae’d a part, whose issue
Will hiss me to my grave; contempt and elamour
Will be my knell.—Go, play, boy, play ;—There
have | CCl.
Or Tam much deceiv’d, cuckolds ere now;
\nd many a man there is, even at this present,
Now, while I speak this, holds his wite by the arm,
‘That little thinks she has been sluie’d in his absence,
\nd his pond fish’d by his next neighbour, by
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there’s comfort in’t,
Whiles other men have gates; and those ‘gates
{ al.
\ inst their will: Should all despair
I" \ volled wives, the tenth of mankind
VV themselves. Physic for't there is none ;
y planet, that will strike
' minant: and ’tis powe rful, think it,
From ¢ t, north, and south: Beit concluded,
r for a belly; know it ;
it will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage: many a thousand of us
Ha uid feel’t not.—How now, boy?
] Lam ! you, they say.
j ; Why, that’s some comfort.—
Vi ' Camillo there?!
{ n. Ay, my good lot
Li Gio play, Mami i ius; thou’rt an honest
man [ Exit Mamillius.
», th { sir will yet stay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold:
When you it still came home.
Leon Didst note it?
Cain, Hi ld not stay at your petitions ; made
His busi: more material
Leon. _ Didst perceive it 7—«
They’re here 1 me already ; whispering, round-
/ in 49
| Sicilia ts a so-forth ; "Tis far rone,
| When I shall gust'* it last. —How came’t, Camillo,

Phat he did stay ?
At the good queen’s entreaty.
At the queen’s, be’t: good, should be
pertinent ;
ut so it is, it is Was this taken
any understanding pate but thine?
r thy conceit is soaking, will draw in
More than the common blocks :—Not noted, is’t
But of the finer natures? by some severals,
Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes,'®
Perchance, are to this business purblind: say.
Cam. Busine ss, my lord? I think, most under-
stand

Bohemia stays here longer.

not

lay his share of life be a happy one!

leir apparent, next claimant. (10) Mouth.
Approving. U 2) A horned one, a cuckold.
To round in the ear was to tell secretly.
Taste, (15) Inferiors in rank.

N
|a kota

Se aN

 

 

area

278 WINTER’S TALE. Act I.

Leon. Ha?

Cam.

Leon. Ay, but why? |

Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.

Leon. Satisfy
The entreaties of your mistress ? satisfy ?—
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
My chamber-counsels: wherein, priest-like, thou
Hast cleans’d my bosom; I from thee departed
Thy penitent reform’d: but we have been
Deceiy'd in thy integrity, deceiv’d
In that which seems so.

Cam. se it forbid, my lord!

Leon. To bide upon’t ;—Thou art not honest: or,
If thou inclin’st that way, thou art a coward;
Which hoxes! honesty behind, restraining

Stays here longer.

 

From course requir’d: Or else thou must be counted

A servant, grafted in my serious trust,

And therein negligent ; or else a fool,

That seest a game play’d home, the rich stake
drawn,

And tak’st it all for jest.

Cam. My gracious lord,

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ;

In every one of these no man ts free,

But that his negligence, nis folly, fear,
Amongst the infinite doings of the world,
Sometime puts forth: In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful-negligent,

It was my folly ; if industriously

I play’d the fool, it was my negligence,

Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful

To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, ’twas a fear
Which oft affects the wisest: these, my lord,
Are such allow’d infirmities, that honesty

Is never free of. But, ’beseech your grace,
Be plainer with me ; Ict me know my trespass
By its own visage: if I then deny it,

*Tis none of mine.

Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo,
(But that’s past doubt: you have; or your eye-glass
Is thicker than a cuckold’s horn ;) or heard

For, to a vison so apparent, rumour

‘annot be mute,) or thought (for cogitation
Resides not in that man, that does not think it,)
My wife is slippery ? If thou wilt confess,

(Or else be impudently negative,
To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say,
My wife’s a hobby-horse ; deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say it, and justify it.

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken: ’Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this: which to reiterate, were sin
As deep as that, though true.

Leon. Is whispering nothing ?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? —
Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes

blind : :
With the pin and web,? but theirs, theirs only,

(1) To hox is to hamstring.
ts Disorders of the eye.
3) Hour-glass, _ (4) Hasty,

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
    
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

 

That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing?
Why, then the world, and all that’s in’t, is nothing ,
The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ;
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.

Cam. Good my lord, be cur’d
Of this diseas’d opinion, and betimes ;
For ’tis most dangerous.

Leon. Say, it be ; "tis true.
Cam. No, no, my lord.
Leon, It is; you lie, you lie °

I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee ;

| Pronounce thee a gross jout, a mindless slave ,
\Or else a hovering temporizer, that

|Canst with thine eyes at once sec good and eyil,
'Inclining to them both: Were my wile’s liver
Infected as her life, she would not live

|The running of one glass.?

Cam. Who does infect her ?
Leon. Why he, that wears her like her medal,
hanging

‘About his neck, Bohemia: Who—if I]

Had servants true about me; that bare eyes

j
I
|"

 

» see alike mine honour as their protits,
Their own particular thrifts,—they would do that
| Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou
| His cup-bearer,—whom I from meaner form
\Have bench’d, and rear’d to worship ; who may’st
| £ee
Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sces heaven,
‘How I am galled—micht’st bespice a cup,
'T'o give mine enemy a lasting wink ;

|W hich Graught to me were cordial.
i
|
}

(
‘|

Cam. Sir, my lord,
I could do this: and that with no rash* potion,
But with a ling’ring dram, that should not work
|Maliciously® like poison: But I cannot
| Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
'So sovereignly being honourable.
lI have lov’d thee,——
| Leon. Make’t thy question, and go 1ot,
| Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled,
|To appoint myself in this vexation? sully
|The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
Which to preserve is sleep; which being spotted,
Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps?
Give scandal to the blood o’ the prince my son,
Who, I do think is mine, and love as mine ;
Without ripe moving to’t ? Would I do this?
Could man so blench ?®

Cam. I must believe you, sir ;
I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for’t:
Provided, that when he’s remov’d, your hichness
Will take again your queen, as yours at first ;
Even for your son’s akan and, thereby, for sealing
The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms _
Known and altied to yours,

Leon. Thou dost advise me,
Even so as I mine own course have set down :
Pll ceive no blemish to her honour, none.

Cam. My lord,
Gothen; and with a countenance as clear
As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia,
And with your queen: I am his cupbearer ;
If from me he have wholesome beverage,
Account me not your servant.

Leon. This is all:
Do’t, and thou hast the one half of my heart;
Do’t not, thou splitt’st thine own.

Cam. I'll do’t, my lor

5) Maliciously, with effects openly hurtful.
(6) i. e. Could any man so start off from pro
priety ?Scene II.

Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis’d|
me. [| Exit.

Cam. O miserable lady !—But, for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner |
Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do’t
Is the obedience to a master; one,
Who, in rebellion with himself, will have
All that are his, so too.—To do this deed,
Promotion follows: If I could find cxample
Of thousands, that had struck anointed kings,
And flourish’d after, I'd not do’t: but since
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, |
Let villany itself forswear’t. I must
Forsake the court: to do’t, or no, is certain
To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!
Here comes Bohemia.

Enter Polixens

Pol. This is strange! methinks,
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak ?——
Good-day, Camill

j
j

Cam, Hail, most royal sir!
Pol. What is the news ithe court?
Can. None rare, my lord.
Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance,
As he had lost some province, and a region,
Lov’'d as he loves himself: even now I met him

With customary compliment; when he,
Waflinge hi eve to the contrary and falling

A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and
So leaves me to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus hi nan! .

Cam. I dare not know, my ! rd.

Pol. How! dare not? do not. Do you know,

ind dare not

Be intelligent to me? ’Tis thereabouts ;
. if 1 il ' ley ry tt
For, to yourself, what you do kn ou must

And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang’d complexions are to me a mirror
Which shows me mine chang’d too: for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus alte.’d with it.

Cam. There is a sickness
Which puts some of us in distemper; but
I cannot name the disease ; and it is caught
Of you that yet are we il.

Pol, How! caught of me?

Make me not sighted like the basilisk:
I have look’d on thousands, who nave sped the better
By my re card, but kiil’d none so. Camillo,.———
As vou are certainly a a ntleman;: thereto
Clerk-like, experi nea, which no le:
Our gentry, than our par i
In whose success' we are g' ntle,2—I beseech you,
If you know aught which does bi hove my Know-
"ledge !

. ” : a a 74 imnr \ if rt
Thereof to be inform’d, imprison it not

In ignorant concealment.

Cam, I may not answer.

Pol. A sickness caucht of me, and yet l we Il!
I must be answe rd.—Dost thou hear, ‘ amillo,
I cénjure thee, by all the parts of man,

Which honour does acknowledg ,—whereof the
least

Is not this suit of mine,

What incidency thou dost eur ss of h irm

Is creeping toward me ; how far off, how near;

Which way to be prevents d, if to be;

If not, how best to bear it.

Cam,

{hat thou declare

Sir, Pll tell you;

(1
(2

) For succession.
\ Gentle was opposed to simple; well born,

 

WINTER’S TALE. 279

Since I am charg’d in honour, and by him
That I think honourable: Therefore, mark my
counsel ;
Which must be even as swiftly follow’d, as
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me
Cry, lost, and so good-night. ;
Pol. On, good Camillo.
Cum. I am appointed Him to murder you.?
Pol. By whom, Camillo?
Cam. By the king.
Pol. For what?
Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence ic
swears,
As he had seen’t, or been an instrument
To vice* you to’t,—that you have touch’d his queen
l’orbiddenly.
Pol. O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jel'y; and my name
Be yok’d with his, that did betray the best!
Turn then my fre: .est reputation to
A savour, that ma. strike the dullest nostril
\Where I arrive ; «nd my approach be shunn’d,
Nay, hated too, wr rse than the great’st infection
That e’er was hear |, or read!
Cam. Swear his thought over
}y each particular star in heaven, and
>y all their influen: es, you may as well
‘orbid the sea for t.. obey the moon,
or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake
The fabric of his ft whose foundation
Is pil’d upon his fai.1,* and will continue
The standing of his body.
Pol, How should this grow ?
Cam. I know not: but, I am sure, ’tis safer to
Avoid what’s grown, than question how ’tis born,
i{ therefore you dare trust my honesty,—
That lies enclosed in ‘his trunk, which you
Shall bear along impawn’d,—away to-night.
Your followers I wil! whisper to the business ;
And will, by twos, and threes, at several posterns,
Clear them o’ the city: For myself, Pll put
My fortunes to your service, which are here
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ;
For, by the honour o* my parents, I
Have utter’d truth: -vhich if you seek to prove,
| dare not stand by; or shall you be safer
‘Than one condemn’. by the king’s own mouth,
| thereon
His execution sworn.
| Pol. I do believe thee :
I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand;
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine: Iiy ships are ready, and
\ly people did expect my hence departure
Two days ago.—This jealousy
Is for a precious creature: as she’s rare,
Must it be great; anc. as his person’s mighty,
Must it be violent; and as he does conceive
He is dishonour’d by a man which ever
Profess’d to him, why, his revenges must
In that be made more bitter. Fear o’ershades me °
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
Of his ill-ta’en suspicion ! Come, Camillo ;
I will respect thee as a father, if
Thou bear’st my life off hence: Let us avoid.
Cam. It is in mine authority, to command
The keys of all the posterns: Please your highness
'To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away.

[Exeunt,

. e. Lam the person appointed, &e,

(3)7 ted
) Draw, (5) Settled belief,

ies |Sore

390 WINTER’S TALE.

ACT II.

    
  

Act Il,

 

With violent hefts:4—I have drank, and seen the
spider,

SCENE I.—The same. Enter Hermione, Ma-|Cami llo was his he nae in this, his pander :—

millius, and Ladies.
Her. Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,

"Tis ast enduring.
1 hady Ys Come, my gracious lord,
Shail I be your play-fellow ?
Mam. No, Pil none of you.
1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord
Mam. You’l kiss me hard; and speak to me as if

I were a baby still.—I love you bette:

2 Lady. And why so, my good lord ?

Mam. Not for because
Your brows are blacker: yet black brows, the y say
Become some women best; so that there be not
Too much hair there, but i in a semi-circl
Or half-moon made with a pen,

2 Lady. Who taught you this ?
Mam. I learn’d it out of women’s faces.—Pray
now
What colour are your eye-brows ?
1 Lady. Blue, my lord.
Mam, Nay, that’s a mock: I have seen a lady’s
nose
That has been blue, but not her eye-brows.
2 Lady. Hark ve:
i]

The queen, your mother, roun ids ‘apace + we shall
Present our services to a fine new prince,
One of these days; and then you ‘d wanton with u
If we would have you.
1 Lady. She is spread of }
Into a pooily bulk: Good time encounter h
Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come
sir, now
I am for you again: Pray you sit by '
And tell ’s a tale.
Mam. Me ry, ors id, shall’t be ?
Her. As merry as you will.
Mam. A sad tale’s best for winter:
I have one of sprites and goblins.
Her. Lei’s have that, sir.
Come on, sit down :—Come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites: you’re powerful
at it.
Mam. There was a man,——
Her. Nay, come, sit down; then on.
Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard ;—I will tell

softly ;
Yon crickets shall not hear it.
Her. Come on, th n,
And give’t me in mine ear.

Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and others.
Leon. Was he met there? his train? Camillo
with him ?
1 Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them;
never
Saw I men scour so on their way: I ey’d thet
Even to their ships.
Leon. How biess’d am I
In my just censure?! in my true opinion /—
Alack, for lesser knowledge !2. How accurs’d,
In being so blest !—There may be in the cup
‘nt steep’d, and one may drink ; depart,
yet partake no venom; for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr’d ingredient to his eye, make known — |
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides,

1) Judgment.

2) O that my knowledge were less!

3 Spiders were esteemed poisonous in our au-
thor’s time,

|

|i ere is a plot against my life, my crown;

'All’s true that is mistrusted : :—that false villain,
'Whom I eriploy’d, was pre-employ’d by him:

|He has disc over "dl my desig mM, an d I

Remain a pinch’d thing :* yea, avery trick

For them to play at wil: :—How came the posterns

asily open ?
1 Lord. By his great authority ;
Which often hath no less pre vail’d than sO,

bry

On your command.
Leon. I know’t too well.
I am glad, you did not nurse him:

 

1? 4] :
W1lVeC Me tne Voy:

’|Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you
tJ

Have too much blood in him.
Her. What is this? sport?
Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come
about | her ;

Away 1 him :—and let her sport herself
With e r ‘she’s big with; for ’tis Polixenes
Has made thee swell thus.

Her. But I'd say, he had not,
Lund, Pll be sworn you would believe my saying,
Howe’er you lean to the nayward.

Leon. You, my lords,
Look on her, mark her well; be but about
To say, she ts a goodly lady, and
The justice of your hearts will thereto add,

Tis pily she’s not honest, he ncurses | :
| iis her without-door form,

Vhich, on my faith, deserves high speech, ) and
. ?
The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands,
Phat calumny doth use:—Q, I am out,
t mercy d * for cAumay will sear®
elf:—These sh , these hums, and ha’s,
yu have said, she’s ¢ oodly, come between,
you can say she’s honest: But be it known,
: him thet has most cause to grieve it should be,
1 adultress.
Her. Should a villain say so,
T! t replenish’d villain in the world,

tie were as much more villain: you, my lord,
} 7 iefal

n. You have mistook, my lady,

1 Leontes: O thou thing, :
| not call a creature of thy place,

Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,

uld a like lancuage use to all degrees,

nannerly distinguishment leave out

»and beggar !—I have said,

ultress; I have said with whom:

More, she’s a traitor; and Camillo ts

derary’ with her: and one that knows

What she should shame to know herself,

But® with her most vile principal, that she’s

\ bed-swerver, even as bad as those

C] lvars give bold titles; ay, and privy

i his theirlate escape. ; 1
Hey ; I :
Her. No, by my life,

Pp +}

Privy to none of this: How wi this grieve you,
When you shall come to cl -knowle dge, that
You thus have publish’d me | Ge ntle my lord,
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say

)

i You did mistake.

Leon. No, no: if I mistake

|[n those-foundations which I build upon,

Heavings.
= thin; g pine hed out of clouts, a puppet.
ind as infamous, (7) Confederate,Scene II.

The centre is not big enough to bear
A school-boy’s top.— Away with her to pris
He, who shall speak for her, is afar
But that he speaks. ?

Her.

of]

a]

‘There *s some Ill p! inet

I must be patient, till the heavens lool

With an aspéct more favourable.——G
lords,

1 am not prone to weeping, as our sex

Commonly a: the want of which vain ce

Perchance, shall dry your pities: but I ha

That honourable grief lode’d here, whic

Worse th n tears drown: ’Beseech you
lor
With thoughts so qualified as your charitic
Shall best instruct you, meas me ;—
The king’s will be perform’d !
Leon. lt}
[T
Her. Who is’t, that ¢ with 1 —
your highness,
My women may be with me: for, you s¢
My plig! re quire S$ it Do } ( ® )
There is no cause: when you | kno
mistress
Has deserv’d prison, then yuu

As I come out: this acti
Is for my better grace.
I never wish’d to see you sorry: 1
I trust, I

I shal

leave,
Leon. Go, do our biddi
+
1 Lor.t. "Beseech }
again.
int, Be certain what you do, l
justice
Prove violence; int
Yourself, your queen, you
Lord. l
I dare my life lay down, and
Please you to acc t
I’the eye s of heavy i to |

In this which you accus«
Ant. if
She’s otherwise, vy sta!
I lodge ny Wilt
Than when I feel, and

ars no {
For every inch of woman int
Ay, every dram of woman’s fl -!
If she be.
Leon. Hold your
1 Lord. Good
int. It is for you we sp ky} Our

and by some

You are abus’d,
amn’d fort; woud |

That will be
villain,

I would lend-damn him

I have three daught - the eldest is elev

The 9 and the third, nine, and some

d

second

If this prove true, they'll pay for’t
hh

I'll geld them all ; fourteen the ' shall not

To bring false generations: they are co-h

And I had rather glib myself, than they

Should not produce fair issu:
Leon.

You smell this business with a sen

As is a dead man’s nose:

As you fcel doing thus; a

The instruments “th: it feel,

nd see withal

2) In merely

1) Remotely guilty. (2
(4) Instigator,

$) Take my station,

I see’t, and [eel’!
,

WINTER’S TALE,

) | ck

ml
Ane access Oi

speaking. |

1(5) Proof,

up ho

°

   
  
 
 
   
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
   
     
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  

281

If it be so,
e to bury honesty
it, the ; face

1 of to sweeten
What! lack I credit?
u did lack, than I, my

would content me 7.
uspicion ;

Why, what need we |
but rather follow
ilive

natural goodness
ir stupified,

or will not,

rm yourselves,

the matter,

cr on’t, 1s all

* prerog:
!
‘ nsels: but ou

mnot,

¥i:CG

e
yish
Sil,

my liege,
silent judgment tried it,

llow could that be?
ly

sted ectielnn

ech’d conjecture

for approbation, *

‘ircumstances

this proceeding;

were

patch’d in post,

pie,

m you know

, from the oracle

itual counsel had,

well?

nce {
i i ,C at

ten

I done
d, and need no more
rac le
| such as he,

ae L

thought it good,
hould be confin’d ;
», fled henee,
Come, follow us;

or this business

} ‘
f Lid LV ¢

a

take it, ty
| Aveunt,

outer room of @
nd attendants,

i ih

Mia ¢

ison,—call to him:
| kre altendant,
who lam.—Good lady!
x1 for thee,
mn )—Now,

an

good sir,
th, the Keeper,

For a worthy lady,
-h_I honour.
DP ante ,
Pray you, then,
en.
nadam: to the contrary
nmandment. s
Here’s ado,
honour from
isitors !——Is it lawful,

4
ne va

ventlay

    

(6) Of abilities more than sufficient.
Oo W

~ & teet ats

 

ao. Se oe mee

a ag en eee nie mn

 

PRS ITD Fe en tee

2512 WINTER’S TALE. Act I.

Pray you, to see her women? any of them ?
Emilia ?
Keep. So please you, madam, to put.
Apart these your attendants, I shall brin
Finilia forth:
Pauw. I pray now, call her.
Withdraw yourselves, [Exeunt atlend,
Keep. And, madam,
I must be present at your conference.
Paul. Well, be it so, pr’ythee. [ Exit Keeper.
Here’s such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring.

Re-enter Keeper, with Emilia.

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady ?

Emil. As. well as one so great, and so forlorn,
May hold together: On her frights, and griefs,
(Which never tender lady hath borne greater, )
She is, something before her time, deliver’d.

Paul. A boy?

Emil. A daughter; and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives
Much comfort in’t: says, My poor prisoner,

I am innocent as you.

Paul. I dare be sworn :——

These dangerous unsafe lunes! o’the king! be-
shrew them!

He must be told on’t, and he shall: the o‘lice

Becomes a woman best; I’ll take it upon me

If I prove honey-mouthed, let my tongue blister

And never to my red-look’d anger be

The trumpet any more :—Pray you, Emilia,

Commend my best obedience to the queen ;

If she dares trust me with her little babe,

I’ll show’t the king, and undertake to be

Her advocate to th’ loudest: We do not know

How he may soften at the sight o’the child;

The silence often of pure innocence

Persuades, when speaking fails.

Emil, Most worthy madam,
Your honour, and your goodness, is so evident,
That your free undertaking c annot miss
A thriving issue ; there is no lady living,

So meet for this ‘great crrand: Please your lady-
ship

To visit the next room, I'll presently

Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer ;

Who, but to-day, hammer’d of this design ;

But durst not tempt a minister of honour,

Lest she should be denied.

Paul. Tell her, Emilia,
Pll use that tonzue I have: if wit flow from if,

As boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted
I shall do goud.

Emil, Now be you blest for it!

Vil to the queen: Please you, come something |
nearer.

Keep. Madam, if’t please the queen to send th

babe,
J know not what I shall incur, to pass it,
Having no warrant.

Pad, You need not fear it, sir:
The child was prisoner to the womb ; and is,

By law and process of great nature, thence
Free’d and enfranchis’d: not a party to
‘The anger of the king ; nor guilty of,

If any be, the trespi iss of the queen.

Keep. I do believe it.

Paul, Do not you fear: upon)
Mine honour T will stand ’twixt you and duet r,
[Exeunt.
(3) Alone,

(1) Frenzies, (2) Mark and aim,

   
    
  
 
 
    
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
    
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
     
  
 
 
 
 
     
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
   
  
    
 
    
   
    
    
  
    
    
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
   

 

SCENE III.—The same. A room m the palace.
Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and other
attendants.

Leon. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but
weakness

(To bear the mat ‘tae thus ; mere weakness, if
|The cause were not in being ;—part o the cause,
'She, the adultress ;—for the harlot king
| ;
Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank

And level? of my brain, 1, plot proof: but she

iI can hook to me: Say, that she were gone,
iGivyen to the fire, a moie ty of my rest
ee it come to me again.——Who’s there ?

Jliten. My lord ?
| [ 4dvancing.
| Leon. How does the boy?
| ] Alten. He took good rest to-night ;
|’Tis hop’d, his sickness is discharg’d.
| Leon, To see,

His nobleness !

Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,

ae strai ght declin’d, droop’d, took it dee ply ;
Fasten’d a id fix’d the shame on’t in psi

TI hnrew off his spirit, his appetite, his sleey

‘And downright languish’d.—Leave me callin sh

ee how he fares. [Exit attend.]—Fie, fie! no

thought of him ;—

The very thought of my revenges that way

Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty;

|And in his parties, his alliance,—Let him be,
Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,

‘Take iton her. Camillo and Polixenes

Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow:

|They s slecsal cl laugh, if I could reach them ; nor

iShall she, within my power.

i

Enter Paulina, with a child.

1 Lord. You must not enter.
| Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second
to me;

[ear you his ty rannous passion more, alas,
[Than the queen’s life? a gracious innocent soul ,
|More free, than he is jealous.
| ,ane That’s enough.
| 1 #iten. Madam, he hath not slept to-night ;
commanded
| None should come at him.
| Paul, Not so hot, good sir ;
| come to bring him sleep. *Tis such as you, aie
| That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh’
At each his needless s he avings,—such as you
| Nourish the cause of his awaking: J]
Do come with words as med’cinal as true :
| Honest, as cither; to purge him of that humour,
That pre sses him from sleep.
| Leon. What noise there, ho ?
Paul No noise, my lord; but needful conference,
About some gossips for your highness.
Leon. , How ?———.
| Away with that audacious lady: Antigonus,
iI chare’d thee, that she should not come about me :
il knew she would. ‘
Ant, J told her so, my lord,
On your displeasure’s peril, and on mine,
She should not visit you.
eon. What, canst not rule her?

Paul. From all dishone sty, he can: in this,
(Unless he take the course ths it you have done,
Commit me, for committing honour,) trust it
He shall not rule me. ;

Ant. Lo you now; you hear!
When she will take the rein, T let het run jBeene II.

But she’ll not stumble.
Paul.

Your most obedient cou

WINTER’S

Good my liege, I come,—
And, I beseech you, hear me, who prok 8s
Myself your loyal servant, you ir physician,

nsellor :

Less appear so, in comforting

Than such as most s
From your good queen.

Leo

Paul. Good queen, my

good queen ;

And would by combat n
A man, the worst? abou

Leon,

Paid. Let him that
First hand me: on mi
sut, first, I'll do my «
For she is good, hath br
Here ’tis; commends it

Leon.
A mankind? witch!

A most intelligencing b:

Paul,

I am as ignorant in that,

In so entitling me: and
Than you are mad ;

«&

yel that dare
‘your evils.!

em yours :—I say, I come

(xood queen!

’ lord, g od ¢ icen I Say.
ake her good, so were I
t YOu.
Fore rhe r | nee
makes but trifles of his eye

= :
: 1} ,
own acct rd, Pil off :

7 , ¥

[La

LW d

as

no |

which is ¢ nougn

i.—The good queen,
yught you forth a daughter ;
ru r bie ssi!
wan the child
Out!
Hence with her, out o’door
'
Not so:
you

}
ess nor

_.

,

As this world goes, to pass for honest.

Leon.

Will you Res push her out ? (

Thou dotard
tir ‘d.4 unroostt

By thy dame Partlet here,
giv’t to thy crone.°

Tak’t up, I say;
Paul.

d

Unvenerable be thy —_ _

l'ak’st up the princess,
Which he has put upon
Leon.

Paul. So I would you did;

doubt,

by tl

et

rive her the bastard :—

[To Antivonus. | thou art woman-

take up he bastard :

For cvye!l
if thou

iat forced® baseness

lle dre ads hi , wife,
then, ’twere past all

You'd call your children yours.

Leon.
“int. I am none,
Paul.

But one, that’s here;

Y beers 2 r |
A nest of traitors!

by this good light

Nor lI: nor any,

and that’s himself: for he

The sacred honour of himself, his queen’s,

His hopeful son’s, his b:
Whose sting is sharper than the sword’s ;

not

(For, as the case now stands,

ibe ?

‘ betrays to slande rs
and will

it is a curse

He cannot be compell’d to’t,) once remove
The root of his opinion, which 1s rotten,

As ever oak, or stone,
Leon.
Of boundless tongue :
band,

who late hath bea

was sound.

A callat,’

t her hus-

And now baits me !—This bratis none of mine
It is the issue of Polixenes:

Hence with it;

Commit them to the fire.

Paul.

It

and, together with the dam,

is yours ;

And, might we lay the old proverb to ‘your chart

So like y you,
Although the print be |
And copy of the father :

ittle,
eye,

*tis the worse. =e hold, my lords

the whole Soethest
nose, lip,

The trick of his frown, his forehead ; ni: Ly, the valley,
The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek ; his [t shall not neither. —Y ou, sir, ‘come you hither,

smiles ;

Masculine.

(
(:
{
{

1) Abetting your ill courses.

3)
4) Fecked by a woman ;
5) Worn-out old woman,

(2) Lowest.

hen-pesked,

TALE. 8g

‘The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger :~
And 1 hou, good goddess nature, w hich hast made it

So like to him that got it, if thou hast
Che ordering of the mind too,

’mongst all colours
No yellow® in’t; lest she sus a as he does,
Eler children not her husband’s

Leon. A gross hag !—~

\nd, lozel,® thou art worthy to be hang’d,

Tha it wilt not stay her tongue.

Ant. Hang all the husbands
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.

Leon, Once more, take her hence,

Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord
Can do no more.

Leon, I'll have thee burn’d.
Pa } I care nat:

[t is a heretic, that makes the fire,

Not she, which burns in’t. Pll not call you tyrant;

his most cruel usage of your queen

(Not able to produce more accusation

Than your own weak-hing’d fancy,) something
Savours

Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,

Yea, scandalous to the world.

Leon. On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her, Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life ? she durst not call me so,
Ifshe did know me one, Away with her.

Pa i | you, cdo not push me; Pll be gone.
Look to your babe, my lord; ’tis yours : Jove send

her
\ better guiding spirit!—What need these hands ?—
You that are thus so tender o’er his follies,
Will never do him good, not one of you.
So, so:—F Hee - we are cone, [ Exit.
Leon. Theu, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.—
My child? away with’t !—even thou, that hast
\ heart so tender o’er it, take it hene ec,
And see it instantly consum’d with fire ;
Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight:
\Within this hour bring me word ’tis done,
(And by good testimony,) or Pll seize thy life,
\With what thou else call’st thine: If thou refuse,
And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;
The bastard brains with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;
lor thou sett’st on thy wife.
Int. I did not, sir:
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in’t,
| Lord, We can; my royal liege,
He is not guilty of her coming hither,
Leon. You are liars all.
1 Lord. ’Beseech your highness, give us better
credit:
We have always truly serv’d you; and beseech
So to esteem of us: And on our knees we beg
(As recompense of our dear services,
Past and to come,) that you do change this pur-
pose ;
‘Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must
.|Lead on to some foul issue: We all kneel.
Leon. Tama feather foreach wind that blows.
Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel
And call me father? Better burn it now,
Than curse itthen. But be it; let it live:

[To Antigonus,
lyou, that have been so tenderly officious

+ Forced is false ; uttered with violence to truth,

&
| (7) Trull. (8) The colour of jealousy,
| (9) Worthless fellow,Se

 

 

a

Se eens aeoctertienie meme 5 re

eae een

  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 

With lady Margery, your midwife, there,
To save this bastard’s life :—for "Lis a b: stard,
So sure as this beard’s grey,—what will you ad-
venture
To save this brat’s life ?
Ant. Any
That my ability may undergo

thing, my lord,

?

And nobleness impose: at least, thus much;
i’il pawn the Little blood which I have left,
To save the innocent: any thing possible

Leon. It shall be pes sible: Swear by this sword,
Thou wilt perform ms y bidding
Ant. I will, my lord.
Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) f
the fail

Of any point uy shall not only be

Death to thyse! » but it to thy | d-toncu’d wife :
Whom, for this te , we pardon. Vi 1 t
As thou art liegeman to us, , that thou carry

This female bastard hence ; and that thou bear i
To some remote and desert place, quite out

Of our dominions; and that the: leave it,

Without more mercy, to its own pro n,
And favour of the climate . As by strange fortu

 

It came to us, I do in ji char hee,—
On thy soul’s peril, and thy body’s torture,—
That thou commend it strangely to some place.
Where chance may nurse, or end it: Take

Ant. I swear to do this, though a present dea
Had been more merc iful.—C ome on poor babs
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ray
To be thy nurses! Wolves, and |

rs, they
Casting their savageness aside, have done
Like offices of pity.—Sir, be prospero
In more than this deed doth requir: hand ]
Against this cruelty, fight on side,—
Poor thing, condemin’d to loss! [iie. with the chil

Leon. Yo, Pil n
a s issue.

Alten. Please your highness, :

From those you sent to the oracle, are «
An hour since: Cleomencs and Dion,
Being well arriv’d from Delphos, are both land
Hasting to the court.

1 Lord. By PIEME YOR ir, th
Hath been beyond acco

Leon. Twenty-three day
They have been absent : Lees <0od speed ; forcicl
The great Apollo suddenly will have
The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;
Summon a session, that we may arraion
Our most disloy: al lady: for, as she hath

Been publicly accus’d, so shall she have
A just and open trial. While she lives,
My heart will be a burden to me, Leave me:
And think upon my bidding. Ee

SCENE I.—The same. A street in some Town.
Enter Cleomenes and Dion.
Cleo. The climate’s delicate : the air mostsweet:

,
Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing

The common pr aise it bears. :

Dion. 2 wwe repo -_
For most it caught me, the ec al habi
(Methinks, I so should term MN m, ) oa the reve-

rence

(1) It was anciently a practice to swear by the'time y

cross at the hilt of a sword. |
(2) 4% e. Commit it to some place as a stranger. |

B84 WINTER'S TALK.

(Who least will seem to do so

 

ct 111,

\Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
| How ceremonious, sole mn, and unearthly
It was i’the offe ring !

I’ Cleo. But, of all, the burst
| And the ear-deafening r VOICe O the oracle,

{Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surpris’d my sense,
That I was nothing

c

Dion. If the event o’the journey
iProve as successful to the queen,—O, be’t so !—
As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy,

rhe time is worth the use on’t.?
Cleo. Great Apollo,
Turn all to the best!’ These proclamations,
forcing faults upon Hermione,
| 7
int
Dion 7 violent carriage of it
Vill el , or end the business: When the oracle,

hus by Apollo’s great divine seal’d up,)

( nts discover, something rare,
ven then will rush knowledge.——Go, fresh
‘ ? ’

NE I1.—The same. A court of justice.
‘cers, appear properly

(Lo our great grief, we pro»
nor }
ven hi t heart: The party tried,
The daughter of a king; our wife; and one
Uf us too much belov’d.—Let us be clear’d
nou nce we so openly
shall have due course,
, or the puryation.——
i K
It i ’ pleasure, that the queen
rson here in court.—Silence !
id m, guarded; Paulina and
I attendi
/ l R i j ICL il
Ojji. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes
i { art here accused and ar-
ireason, tn committing adultery
Pol kine of Be hemia: and conspiring
ith Camiilo, to take 1 the wu of our sovereign
{ king, thy re ae husband: the pretence®
her rf bein bi ircumsta nces ra laid open,
tiermione, contrary to the faith and alle.
Ya t, didst counsel and aid
ir better safety, to fly away by nirht.
ince what I am to say, must be but that
dict my accusation: and
testimony on my part, no other
what ¢ myself; it shall scarce boot
m
i Not inte rity,
counted falsehood,® shal] as I express ft,
B yreceiv’d. But hus, If powers divine
Behold our human actions cas do, )
I doubt not t but innocence shall make
iccusation blush, and t} ranny
ry }

nble at p ence.—You, my lord, best know
;) my past life
th been as continent, as chaste, as true,
\s I am now unhappy; which is more
Chan history can pattern, though devis’d,
1» ariel | > tn? x
And lay Gq, to tak 1CCLALOPS > For behold me,
1 fellow of the royal b d, which owe’

(3) te. Our journey has reeompensed us the
ve spent in it.

4) Equal. (5) Scheme laid.
i

\0 (6) Treachery,
WH, Possess.

(Scene JI.

*Tis a derivative from me to mine
And only that I stand for.

lo your own consc lence,

Came to your court , how I

How merited to be sO ;

With what encounter so uncurre:
Have strain’d, to appear thus: if

The bound of honour :

That way inclining; hard

Of all that hear me, and

Cry, Fie upon my grave !

20Nn,

That any of these bolder vices want

L ess impudence to o Linsay

Than to perform it fir

Her.

Though ‘tis a saving, sir,

.

Leon. You will not own }

Her.

Which comes to me in n:

At all acknowledve.

—_—

(With whom I am accus’d,
I lov’d him, as in honour |

With such a kind of love,

A lady like me: witha
So, and no other, as yo

Which not to have done,
Both disobedience and i
‘T° . : oat .

To you, and toward your

..,
er :
SDOAKE .

Even since it could st

That it w as yours, Now,

I know not how it ta

For me to try how: alll!
Is, that Camillo was an |

And, why he left your ec
Wotting no more than I,

Leon. You knew of
What you have undert
Her. Sir,

You speak a language th

My life stands in the | ve

Which PI lay down.
Leon. a our

You had a bastard | Po]

And I but dreem’d it —

(Those of your fact® are :

Which to deny, coneer
For as

Thy brat hath been cast ou

;

No fat he ‘r owning it 4

More criminal m thee,

Shalt { eel our iustice - |

Look for no less than d
ler.

The bug, which you w

To me can life be no con
The crown and comfort of

I do give lost; for 1 do f

But know not how it went:
And first-fruits of my body,

I am barr’d, Jike one ink

fort,
Starr’d most unluckily,

(1) Is within the reach.

(2) They who have done like you.
(3) Ill-starred; born

planet.

41s from n

under

WINTER'S

A moiety of the throne, a great kine’s dauchter,
The mother to a hot peful prince,
To prate and talk for life, and hor \our *fore
Who please to come and hear.

As I weigh grief, which I would

—here standing

,

‘or ifn I prize if
re: forhonou
|

ca 3 ian, Da}? .
Sir, DeTOoTre rolxsenes
was in your prace,
since nec 1c.
i
‘
one {] }
a ds e aril
or, In act, or will,
nd} '
ny | ( ilk
j
ie
:
|
¢ «)} .
what i Cilt
ry .
ihat’s { n ]
not du ry
I Cit il
Nore t
ime ot i] s I
. 7
ret |
ljidoc
@
(Te. ey
| : '
I
_— j
i . : :
; cz }
me | I ;
’
'
}
,
)
i
rT)
]
‘ | +?
1} ‘
i
Lé ri" j
;
ver
‘
‘ '
iS I
ty
} sf) i i
1 \
| ?
out il LO if
‘/ ; ;
‘a : .
} } }
; ;
\
Nir its
} ; |
nid tt ’ Wi i
;
my ! your [ Ir,
el it
Ff z -
vi nd j0%
f rye
i i) ce
; _
cCuotl iy ul .¢ Oe

i

TALE. 394

» Inna cent milk in its most innocent mouth,
ed out to mmuitdet : Myself on every post

roel claim’d a strumpet; With immodest hatred

iil d pr ivile; re denied, which ’longs
» women of all fashion 2u8 istly, hurried
re to this place, the open air, before
ve got strength of limit.* Now, my liege,
| me what blessings I have here alive,
I should fear to die? There fore, proceed.
t hear this ; mi take me not;——No! life,
straw :—but for mine honour,
ich I would free, ) if I shall be condemn d
mises; all proofs sleeping else,
lousies awake; I tell you,

{not law.—Your honours all,
reier e to the oracle ;
i my j .
| Lerd. This your request

“just: therefore, bring forth,
{in Apollo’s name, his oracle.
[Exeunt certain Officers.

/ r of Russia was my father
¥C, al d here beh iol ding
d hter’s trial! that he did but see
flat of my misery; yet with eyes
ity. 1 '
* Officers wiih Cleomenes and Dion.
Of. } h shall swear upon this sword-of
rou, ¢ kenes and Dion, have
th at Delphos; and from thence have
’d-up oracle, by the hand deliver’d
\pollo’s priest ; and that, since then,
1 have not dar’d to | eak the he ly seal,
( a All this we swear.
Leon. B » the seals, and read.
[Reads.| Hermione is chaste, Polixenes
‘rive subject, Leontes a jea-
t his 1 t babe truly begotten ; and
thout an heir, Uf that, which is
l . Now bl d be the great Apollo!
Her. Praised !
/ .3 thou read truth?
Offi. \y, my lord; even so
tie h sect down.
Leon. There is no truth at all ithe oracle:
ions shall proceed ; this is mere falsehood.
Enter a Servant, hastily.
Serv. My lord the king, the king!
con. What is the business?
Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it:
rince your son, with mere conecit and fear
he quee! peed,* is gone.
leon. How! gone?
Costes. Is dead.
Leon. Apollo’s angry: and the heavens them-
selves
strike at my injustice. [Hermione faints.] How
now {} wg ?
Paul. This news is mortal te the queen :—Look
doy n
14 see what death is doing.
Leon. Take her hence:
heart is but o’ercharg’d; she will recover.—

{) i. e. The decree of strength which it is cus-

mary to acquire before women are suffered to go
an inauspicious |abroad after child-bearing.

(5) Of the event of the queen’s trial,Be ene

  
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
     
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
   
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
   
    

Se ea

 

Ree

I have too much believ’d mine Own suspicion :—
*Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life.—Apollo, pardon

[Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, with Her.
My great profaneness ’gainst thine oracle !—
I'l reconcile me to Polixenes ;
New woo my queen; recall tae good Camillo ;
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy :
For, being transported by my jealousies
To blood thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poison
My friend Polixenes ; which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command, though I with death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done: he, most humane,
And fill’d with honour, to my kingly cuest
Unclasp’d my practice; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended, !
No richer than his honour :—How he glisters
Thorough my rust! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker !

Re-enter Paulina.

Paul. Wo the while!
O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,

Break too!

1 Lord, What fit is this, good lady ?

Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying? boiling,
In leads, or oils? what old, or newer torture
Must I receive ; whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
Together working with thy jealousies,—
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine !—O, think, what they have done, |
And then run mad, indeed; stark mad! for all |
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray’dst Polixenes, ’twas nothing ; |
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant,
And damnable ungrateful: nor was’t much, |
Thou would’st have poison’d good Camillo’s honour,
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon |
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter,
To be or none, or little ; though a devil |
Would have shed water out of fire,? cre done’t: |
Nor is’t directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young prince ; whose honourable thoughts!
(Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the heart |
That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire |
Blemish’d his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: But the last,—O, Jords,
When I have said, ery, wo !—the queen, the queen, |
The sweetest, dearest, creature’s dead; and ven-

geance for’t

Not dropp’d down yet.

1 Lord. The higher powers forbid ! |

Paul, I say, she’s dead; I’ll swear’t: if word, |

nor oath,

Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye,
Heat outwardly, or breath within, Pll serve you
As I would do the gods.—But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore, betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter —

{} Committed.
2) %. ¢, A devil would have shed tears of pity,
ere he would have perpetrated such an action,

 

286 WINTER'S TALE,

ict Lil.

In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

Leon. Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv’d
All tongues to talk their bitterest.

1 Lord. Say no more ;
Howe’er the business goes, you have made fault
I’the boldness of your speech.

Paul. I am sorry for’t;
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I have show’d too much
The rashness of a woman: he is touch’d
|T'o the noble heart. —What’s gone, and what’s past

help,

Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction

\t my petition, I beseech you; rather
|Let me be punish’d, that have minded you
|Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
|The love I bore your queen,—lo, fool again !—
1’ll speak of her no more, nor of your children ;
V1] not remember you of my own lord,
| Who is lost too: Take your patience to you,
|And I’ll say nothing.
| Leon. Thou didst speak but well,
| When most the truth; which I receive much better
| Than to be pitied of thee. Pr’ythee, bring me
‘l’o the dead bodies of my queen, and son:
One grave shall be for both; upon them shall
The causes of their death appear, unto
Our shame perpetual: Once a day Pll visit
‘The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed there,

 

‘Shall be my recreation: So long as

Nature will bear up with this exercise,
So long I daily vow to use it. Come,
{nd lead me to these sorrows.

[ Exeunt.

SCENE IlI.—Bohemia. 4 desert country near
the sex. Enter Antigonus, with the child; an

a Mariner.

nt. Thou art perfect? then, our ship hath

touch’d upon
The deserts of Bohemia ?

Mar. Ay, my lord: and fear
We have landed in ill time ; the skies look grimly
nd threaten present blusters. In my conscience.
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
nd frown upon us, a

nt. Their sacred wills be done!—Go, get

aboard ;

—

|Look to thy bark; Pll not be long, before

[ call upon thee.

Mar. Make vour best haste; and go not
Too far the land: ’tis like to be loud weather -
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures -
Of prey that keep upon’t.

Ant. Go thou away:

‘Pil follow instantly.

Mar. Tam glad at heart
To be so rid o’the business. [ Exit.
Ant. Come, poor babe :——
[ have heard (but not believ’d, ) the spirits of the dead
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
\ppear’d to me last night ;, for ne’er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another :
[ never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill’d, and so becoming: in pure white robes
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me ;
\nd, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon

(3) Well-assured,Béené UI, WINTER'S TALE, 287

o
Did this break froth her Goad Antigonus, |the sky; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot
Since fale, against thy better disposition, ithrust a bodkin’s point,

Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,—
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,

Shep. Why, boy, how is it?
_ Clo. I would, you did but see how it chafes, how
it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that’s not

There weep, and leave it cruing ; and, for the babe|to the point: O, the most piteous cry of the poor
{s counted lost for ever, Perdita, |souls! sometimes to see ’em, and not to see ’em:
{ pr’ythee, call’t ; for this ungentle business, now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast :
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne’er shall se: ‘and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you’
hy wife Paulina more :—and so, with shricks, thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the
She melted into air. Affrichted much, land serwee,—To see how the bear tore out his
I did in time collect myself; and thought shoulder-bone ; how he cried to me for help, and
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams ar toys: |said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman:—But
Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously, to make an end of the ship :—to see how the sea
1 will be squar’d by this. I do believe, flap-dragon’d* it:—but, first, how the poor souls
Llermione hath suffer’d death - and that roare d, and the sea mocked them -—and how the
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue poor gentleman roar’d, and the bear mocked him,
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid, both roaring louder than the sea, or weather.
Either for life, or death, upon the earth Shep. ’Name of merey, when was this, boy?

Of its right father.——Blossom, speed thee well! Clo. Now, now; I have not winked since I saw

| Laying down the child.\these sights: the men are not yet cold under water,
There lie; and there thy character:' there these ;/nor the bear half dined on the gentleman ; he’s at
| Laying down.a bundle. \it now.

Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee,) Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the

pretty, id man!
And still rest thine. ——The storm begins:—Poor! Clo. I would you had been by the ship-side, to
| 7 i i °
wretch, nave helped her; there your charity would have
. f . j ’ | ed) 1 nea aos
That, for thy mother’s fault, art thus expos’d wacked footing, [ Aside.
To loss, and what may follow!—Weep I cannot, | Shep. Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs’d am I, thee here, boy. Now bless thyself; thou met’st
To be by oath enjoin’d to this.—Farewell ! with things dying, Iw ith things new born. Here's
The day frowns more and more: thou art like to\a sight f or thee ; look thee, a bearing-cloth® for a
have squire’s child! Look thee here ; take up, take up,
1 1 t ys a) yt Ss ts _* As ,
A lullaby too rough: I never saw ee A ee let’s see; It was told me, I
ry’ se . is . a —eeee 7 lel hy ir} vy the sIries* . . s ming a
Ihe heavens so dim by day.—A sava e clamour ?—/ should be ri h by the fairie age is some change
Well may I get aboard !——This is the chace ; ung :"—open't What a ay ee 84 ;
I am gone for ever. [ Exit, pursued by a bear. Clo. You’re a made old man; if the sins of your
b : youth are forgiven y u, you’re well to live. Gold!
Enter an old Shepherd. all cold!
Shep. I would, there were no age between ter Shep. Chis is fairy old, boy, and ’twill prove SO:
and three-and-twi nty; or that youth would sle piup with if, ls ep if close: home, home, the next’
: . 7) ; . l : ‘ : “a
out the rest: for there is nothing in the between|way. We are lucky, boy ; and to be so still re-
but getting wenches with child, wronging the an-| quires nothing bul se crecy.—Let my sheep go:—
cientry. stealing. fichting.——Hark vou now !—/Come, od boy, the next way home.
‘ . ' -% ‘e 7 »* - : = . _ : .
Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen, and} Clo. Go you the next way with your findings ;
a” , a ah ‘] ae ¢ . » fp a sain '
iat ateal tw it this weather? They have! I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman,
two-and-twenty, hunt thi pV peer § 52 . fear.|and how much he hath eaten :.thev.are never caret.
scared away two of my best sheep; which, enr, Show 0 phe nau - tne} urst,
the wolf will sooner find, than the master: if y but when they are hungry: if there be any of him
he ave them, ’tis by the sea-side, browzing!/!efQ, I'll bury it.
where I have them, ’tis by th ny Shep. That’s a good deed: If thou may’st di
eee Sn 1] k nf he tny twil what have we DHEN nuts a GooOUa GAeed > } may) . c1is-
on ivy. Good luck, an’t in Ls ; ee oe hick left of hi Laat he tases
here? [Taking up the child.] Mercy on’s, cern by that whi =o elt of him, what he ts, feteh
barne ;? a very pretty barne! A boy, or a child,’ I;me to the sight of him.

wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: Sure,| — Clo. Marry, will [; and you shall help to put
some scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can|him i the ground, tS aa

read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. Thishas| S/ep. "Tisa lucky day, boy; and we'll do good
been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some b -|deeds on’t. [Exeunt.
hind-door-work: they were warmer th it got this, |

than the poorthingishere. I’l\ take it up for pity :| eo

ee bila

vet I'll tarry till my son come ; he hollaed but even
, “Ff 7 T
ACT IV.

now. Whoa, ho hoa!

Enter Clown.

Enter Time, as Choris.

Clo. Hilloa, loa! ' a ; oe : a
Shep. What, art so near? If thowlt see athing| Time. aoe please some, try all; both joy,
- sher art a ad cl rotten, come! anda Lerror,
to talk on when thou art dead and ten, a. ee Bete
hither. What ailest thou, man ? |Of good and bad; that make, and unfold error,—

Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea, and by Now take Upon me, = - eee ee
land ;—but I am nut to say, it isa sea, for it is now Kay a mj oe = ee pees
(1) The writing afterward discovered with Pi oe r sixteen years, and leave the growth untried
ane) Child, (3) Female infant. (4) Swallowed.| (6) Some child lef behind by the fairies, in the
- , a : : sis has - - oY , s whic ey nad stolen,
be ane in which a child was carried ri Nee 1 (8) Mischievoun
‘TENANT A ae

 

yee WINTER'S TALE. Act IV,

Of that wide gap;' since it is in my pow
To o’erthrow law, and in one self-born hc our
To plant and o’erwhelm custom: Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient’st order was,

Or what is now receiv’d: I witness to

The times that brought them in; so shall I d
To the freshest things now reign ing - and make stale|
The glistening of this ; present, as my tale |

Now seems to it. Y our patience this allowing, |

 

with some care: so far, that I have eyes under my
service, which look upon his removedness: from
whom { have this intelligence; That he is seldom
from the house of a most homely shepherd ; a man,

they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the
Jimagination of his neighbours, is grown into an

unsneakable estate.
Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath
a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is

I turn my glass ; and give my scene such grow ing, ‘extended more, than can be thought to begin from

As you had sle pt between. os ontes leawine
The effects of his fond je caleie $; sO grieving,

That he shuts up himself; ima se me,? 1}
|'Thou shalt accompany us to the place: where we

Gentle spectators, the it i now may be
In fair Bohemia; and remember well,

|
I mention’d a son o’ the king’s, hich Florizel

IT now name to you; and w vith speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace

Equal with wond’ring: What of her ensues,

I hist not prophesy ; but let Time’s new

Be known, when ’tis brought forth:—a shepherd
daughter,

And what to her adheres, which follows afier,

Is the argument* of Time: Of this allow,’

If ever you have spent time worse ere now; |

If never yet, that Time himself doth say,

He wishes earnestly, you never may. [ Exit.

SCENE I.—The same. A room in the palace of
Polixenes. Enter Polixenes and Camillo. |
Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo,
portunate ; ’tis a sickness, denyit
a death, to grant this.

Cam. It is fifteen years, since I saw my country;
though I have, for the most par
I ome to lay my bones there. Besides, the peni-
tent king, my mast *me: to wh
feeling sorrows I micnt be some 4a! or i o’er
ween® to think so; which is another spur to m'
departure.

Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, 1 not out
the rest of thy services, by Jeaving me now: the
need I have of thee, thine own dness hath made :
better not to have had thee, than thus to want
thee: thou, having made me busmesses, which]
none without thee can sufficiently re, must
either stay to execute them thyself, or take away]

Ol, dackbil « i i

or thee the very services thou hast done: which|
1 have not enough considered, (as too much |
rtery to be more thankful to thee, shail be my}
study; and my profit therein, the heaping friend-
ships.® Of that fatal country, Sici 1a. pr’ythe e speak
no more: whose very naming punishes me with th
remembrance of that penitent, as thou call’st him,
and reconciled king, my brother ; whose loss of hi
most precious queen, and children, are even now
to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw’st
thou the prince Florize! my son? Kings are no less
unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they|
are in losing them, when they have approved their|
virtues.

1. ; T +]

Cam, Sir, itis three days since I saw the prince:
What his happier affairs may be, are to me un-
known: but! have, missingly, noted,’ he is of late|
much retired f-om court; and ts less frequent to his
prince ly exercises, than form rly he hath o- ared.

Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo; and}

(1) te. Leave unexamined the progress of the
intermediate time which filled up the gap in Per-
dita’s story.

2) Imagine for me. (3) Subject. (4) Approve.

ts Think too highly. ‘

 

} \
(7) Observed at intervals, (8) Talk,

isuch a cottage.
1 5

Pol. That’s likewise part of my intelligence.

sut, I fear the ang!

le that plucks our son thither.

will, not appearing what we are, have some ques-
}

tion® with the shepherd; from whose simplicity, I

think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son’s
sort thither yihee, be my present partner in
this business, and lay alii the thoughts of Sicilia.
Cam. 1 willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo !—We must disguise our-

l selves. [| Exeunt.

SCENE II.—The same. 4 road near the Shep

herd’s coltage. Enter Autolycus, singing.

Wh n daffodils by O 1 lo pe OY", aeninionen
With, heigh! the doay over the dale,—

Wily, then comes in the sweet o’ the year ;
For the red blood re ens unt the winter's pale.*
| The toh ule sheet l leachine o the hedge, _
With, hey! the swe eet bi O, how they sing !—
i th set niy pu * Fe og on edire : 5
for a quart of ale a dis h for a icing.
The lark. that tirra-lirra chamts.—

With, hey ! with, hey! the thrush and the jay -

ies for me and my aunts,

hile we lie tumbling in the hay.
[ have served prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore
‘ee-pile ;'* but now | am out of service:
But shall J go mourn for that, my dear ?
The nale moon shines by night :
; ’ cd ; e ‘a : ) ea
/f) hen | wander here and lhere,
/ lien do post £0 right.

[f tinkers may have leave to live,
Jind bear the sow ~skin budget ;
" 2 ;
ihen nyu acecwni [4 may give,
JANG Td Clie ished a vouch it.
My traMie is sheets: when the kite builds, look to
lesser linen. Wey father _hamed me, Autolyeus :

ho, being, as I am, littered under Mercury, wa:
kewise a snapper-up of uncon Siesed titan? Wit
die, and drab, | purchased this caparison; and m
revenue is the silly cheat hee Gallows, and knoe!

e too powerful on the highway: beating, an
nangvrine, are Lerrors lo me: Tor the life Lu connie,
sleep OuL ihe khougnt ot it.——A pe ize ! a prize '!

Enter Clown.

Clo. Let me see :—Every ‘leven wether—tods :
very tod yvields—nound and odd shilling: fiftes
hundred shorn,—What comes the wool to?

-lut. If the springe hold, the eock’s mine. [Asid:

Clo. I eannot do’t without ean n

(9) 2. e. The spring blood reiens over the par
lately under the dominion of winter,

(10) Thievish. (11) Doxies.

(12) Rich velvet. C13) Picking pockets.

(14) Every eleven sheep will produce a ted «
twenty-eight pounds ef wool,

(15) Cireular pieces 08 heer metal, ancient’
used by the illiterate, to adjust their reekonings,Scene Jit. WINTER’S TALE. 289

see; what I am to buy for our s!} i apni yy it. V i’

on pp ew BE Ger SUCePSNnearing least iul, Yery true, sir; ?

Three pound of surar+ five nound of éuernn! , a he, sir, he; that’s the rogue,

rice What will thi oe ae ut me into this ap parel.

But one fl thee al oon Smet Ol mine Co wilh ri Cio. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia ;
a AMICT Hath mace Her mistress of the f ' vor | j t | 1g
, . ( OKeC os

and she lays it on. She hath made me foureand: thane sa ( big, and spit at him, he’

twenty noserays for the shearere la its a +.

men! al) a § ~ fuel ceataihaal ‘ree man song-| Zul. | must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter:

: “Abin GIP Cry vi gq ones: } thy re . 4

 

eo x - ; bu y are! i ol heart that w ay; and that he knew, I
Hem means” and bases: bul one Puritan amongst! warrant him

we m, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must Clo. How do you now?

lave saffron, to colour the w n : fut. ¢< t si

a. oe : ol r th ’ reen” pies; Mace,—) dt. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can
At 03.——L OTIC > iat OUL O In’ 16 : E I i ik

tent 's out of my 1 ad, and walk: I will even take my leave of you,

j @ race or two of ginger ; bu at | Lily tows ards my kinsman’s,

ber :-—four wine / yr) , 7) , ree? . X }
> und of prunes, and as m of rai- Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way ?
ert. INO, good-laced sir O, SV t sir
“dul. UO, that ever I was born! Cio. Then fare thee baat ee i
| . Then fare the ells i must go buy spices

=e. » ? i :
suns 0° the sin.

Clo. I the name of me.— ee a ake “ore a . ;
7h m x pas ol me, ee he ty. , . Prosper you, sweet sir!— [ Exit Clown.!
hneip me, help t pluck Dut off 1 10 purse tn
» help me, help me! pluck but off these)‘ purse 1s not hot enough to purchase your

rags; and then, death, death I'll be with 1
i At. : » death, death! — Ae spice. Pll be with you at your sheep-shearing too:
if 00r SOU Lnot LST } ' f mp i] lem y 4 wh
ventana ky ail ow ae 2 OF mol A na this cheat bring out another, and the
av . " i nee, ra 4 in nay Live f ; 1) ve : », | t _™ I 3 )
ids Aifodiey Abe lcatinicinanead oF tudce offntnl Pics shes tack Ae ie Se unrolled, and my
me more than the stripes [ have received - : =
: po J on, the foot-path way
are mighty ones and millions. Ca? wo.
Clo. Alas, pool! man! a itty rn ¢ fr } , ; es / i . G Fttel=G s
come to a great matte: yo ia. trod yds.

Jl she pherd’s cottage.
| ’Florisel avid Parkin

Aut. A fo - n, sweet sir, a { =; : i your unusual weeds toe ach part of you
Clo. Indeed, | . ? n. life: no shepherdess; but Flora,
gannents h left. wi . nt. This your sheep-shearing
man’s coat, } : ) o 7 petty gods,
lel; D. Sir, my gracious lord,
Ault, O! good sir, tenderly, oh! le al -extremes,® it not becomes me ;
Clo. Alas, poor soul. ; { { name them: your high self,
Aut. O, good sir, softly, cood sir: I fear. smark!® o’ the land, you have obseur’d
my shoulder-blade is out. s wearing; and me, poor lowly maid,
Clo. How now! canst st } -like pr nk’d up: But that our feast
Aut. Softly. dear sir: [P in ev me ave folly, and the feeders
sir. softly: you ha’ done mc a: Digest it 1 a custom, I should: blush,
Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a le] i so attired; sworn, I think,

ee. SS,
Mul. No, good sweet sir; no, I cl blo. I bless the time,
I have a kinsman not past three- i‘ 1} | falcon made her flight across

money, or any thing | want: Oller men ; Per. Now Jove afford you cause!

I pray you; that kills m rt. Lo he difference’? forges dread ; your greatness
Clo. What manner of fellow was he en us’d to fear. Even now I tremble

you? , your father, by some accident,

- @Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have | 1 to ly this way, as you did: O, the fates!

about with trol-my-dames :* I knew him one Ly vould he look, to see his work, so noble,

servant of the prince; I cannot tell, : . for lup? What would he say? Or how

which of his virtues it was, but | in}: wuld I, in t] ‘»my borrow’d flaunts, behold
whipped out of the court. ness of his presence ?

Clo. His vices, you would say: there’s no virtt Apprehend
whipped out of the court: they cherish it. ce\l Mn: t) ity : The gods themselves,
it stay there: and yet it will non but abide.® | riu Ing their d 3; to love, have taken

Aut. Vices I would sav, sir. I know this man ‘ pes of beasts upon 1 m: Jupiter
well: he hath been since an ape-b ) 10 a bull, and bellow’d: the green Neptune
process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a mo-|A ram, a d bleated; and the fire- rob’d god,
tion® of the pre i] son nd married a tinker’s|' len Apt iO, ap or humble swain,
wife within a mile where my land and living li As | 1:now: Their tri .nsformations
and, having flown over many knavish professions, | Were never for a piece of beauty rarer ;
he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.| Nor in a way so cha te : since my desires
Clo, Out upon him! Prig,’ for my life, prig: he} Run not before mine honour; nor my lusts

"* ; } ; Puen hotter win
haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. Burn hotter than my faith,

(1) Singers of catches in three parts. 1(5) Sojourn. (6) Puppet-show. (7) Thief,
(2 (3) A species of pears, (8) Take hold of. (9) Excesses,
4) The machine used in the game of pigeon-|

Tenors. |
{
holes, \(1

0) Object of all men’s notice,

) .
|) Dressed with osheubattons (12) 4, e, Of station,

 
  
  
   
    
   
   
    
  
   
    
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
   
     
 
 
 
 
  
 
    
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
  
   
 
   
 

cee cea tomea eee ee

 

ee Bae

 

Ses Res

   
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
   
  
  

   

au) - WINTRIUS TALE, Met IF,

> | ’
Pe. U but, dear sir, DME ei te Say, there be
Your resolution ¢annot hold, when ’tis Yet nature is made better by no mean,
Oppos’d, as it must be, by the power o’the king: |B ut nature makes that mean: 80, o’er that art,
One of these two must be » cessities, Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art
Which then will speak; th t you must change this} That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry
urpose, A gentler scion to the wildest stock; —
Or I my life. And make conceive a bark of baser kind
‘lo. Thou deares’ Perdita, By bud of nobler race ; This is an art
With these fore’d! thoughts, I pr’ythee, darken not Which does mend nature,—change it rather: but
The mirth o’ the feast: Or ‘’ll be thine, my fair, |The art itself is nature. mie
Or not my father’s: for Ica not be Per. So itis, °%
Mine own,‘nor any thing to any, if Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers,
I be not thine: to this I am most constant, And do not call them bastarcs.

Though destiny say, Wo. |e merry, gentle ; mite Aye I ll not put

Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing lhe dibble* in earth to set one slip of them:

That you behold the while. Your guests are| No more than, were I painted, | would wish
coming : This youth should say, ’twere well; and only

Lift up your countenance ; 2s it were the day therefore

1

Of celebration of that nuptia!, which Desire to breed by me.—Here’s flowers for you!
We two have sworn shall come. | fot lavender, mints, savory, manoram ;

Per. O Jady fortune,|The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,
Stand you auspicious! |And with him rises weeping; these are flowers

 

. ay ae - |Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given
Enter Shepherd, with Polixen>s, and ( amillo, ais~ | Po men of middle age: You are very welcome.
guised ; Clown, Mopsa, J) oreas, and others. | (Cum. 1 should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
ef :

Flo. See, your guests approach :|And only live by gazing.
Address yourself to entertain inem sprightly, et. Out, alas!
d let’s be red with mirth. You’d be so lean, that blasts of January
And let’s be r ’
Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv’d,|Would blow you through and through.—Now, my
upon fairest friend, a
This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook ; I would I had some flowers o’the spring, that might

Both dame and servant: welcom’d all; serv’d all :| Become your time of day; and yours, and yours ;
N ould sing her song, and dance her turn: now here, |‘That wear upon your virgin branches yet

At upper end o’the table, now, i’the middle ; Your maidenheads growing :—O Proserpina,

On his shoulder, and his: her face o’fire For that flowers now, that, frighted, thou lett’st fall
With labour ; and the thing she took to quench it, | F

rom Dis’s* wagon! daffodils,

Sie would to each one sip: You are retir’d, | That come before the swallow dares, and take
As if you were a feasted one, and not |The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
The hostess of the meeting: P,ay you, bid | But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes,

Those unknown friends to us welcome: foritis |Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses,

A way to make us better frienc:, more known. |That die unmarried, ere they can behold

Come, quench your blushes: a .d present yourself| Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
That which you are, mistress 0’ ‘he feast: Come on, | Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
And bid us welcome to your s!:ep-shearing, ‘The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,

As your good flock shall pros; The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,

Die Welcome, sir! [To Pol.|To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend,
t is my father’s will, I should t:.|ke on me | To strew him o’er and o’er.
The hostess-ship o’the day :—Yo.wvre welcome, sir!| Jo. What? like a corse ?

[Zo Camillo.| Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on;
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.—Reverend) Not like a corse: or if,—not to be buried,  ~
sirs, ;But quick,® and in mine arms. Come, take your
Fcr you there’s rosemary,.and ruc; these keep flowers :
Secming, and sayour,? all the winter long: Methinks, I play as I have seen them do
G ace, and remembrance, be to you both, {n Whitsun’ pastorals: sure, this robe of mine
As! welcome to our shearing ! Does change my disposition.

|
|
|
|

Pol. Shepherdess, Filo. What you do,
(.. fair one are you,) well you fit our ages |Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
Yy th flowers of winter. \I’d have you do it ever: when you sing,

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,—/|I’d have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
NN ot yet on summer’s death, nor on the birth 'Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
Gi trembling winter,—the fairest flowers o’the|To sing them too: When you do dance, I wish you

season |A wave o’the sea, that you might ever do ;

Are our carnations, and streak’d gillyflowers, | Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own
Which some call nature’s bastards: of that kind |No other funetion: Each your doing,

So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,

Our rustic garden’s barren; and I care not
To get slips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, |That all your acts are queens.
Do you neglect them ? Per. O Doricles,
Per. For? I have heard it said,| Your praises are too large: but that your youth,

There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it,
With great creating nature. Do plainly give you out an unstain’d shepherd ;

With wisdom | might fear, my Doricles,
ts Far-fetched. (2) Likeness and smell.
3) Because that, (4) A tool to set plants, (5) Plute’s, (6) Living,WINTER'S TALE. 21

You tvoo’d me the false way
I think you have
As little skill to fear, as I have pu
To put you to’t.—_——But, come
Your hand, my Perdita :

That never mean to part,

; our dance, I pray:

But smacks of some thine
‘Too noble for this place.

a? He tells her something,
* blood look out:

> quecn of curds

rascal W ould, as

afoul gap into the

A valuable tract of pa

(G) Worsted galloon.
A kind of tape.
he work about the bosom.

a

| Clo, Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable
conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares ?*

Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours i’the
rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bo-
hemia can learnedly handle, though they come to
him by the gross; inkles,® caddises,’ -ambrics,
lawns: why, he sings them over, as they were
gods or goddesses ; you would think a smock were
a she-angel; he so chants to the sleeve-hand,® and
the work about the square on’t.®

Clo, ‘Pr’ythee, bring him in; and let him ap-

proach singing.

Per, Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous
words in his tunes,
_ Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more
p.|in ’em than you'd think, sister.

| Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter Autolycus, singing,

Lawn, as white as driven snow ;

| «" prus, black as eer was crow ;
rioves, as sweet as damask TrOSeS ;

—
—
“A
——
~

ices, and for noses -
} ls Decal Din

Buel 0} icciel, nécklace-amber,
Perfume for a lady’s chamber «1°
r

Golden que ifs, and stoma hers,

For my lads to give their dears «

,
P) and pe } wie-slicks oJ steel,
What maids la is from head to heel:
{ re. by yt r me, come; come buy, come buy ;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry ;
C ; bu » arc.

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou
ould’st Lake no money of me; but being enthrall’d
is | am, it will also be the bondage of certain
ndands and eloy .

Mop. L was promis’d them against the feast ;
they come not too late now.

Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or
il irs

Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you:
may be he has paid you more; which will shame
vou to vive him arain.

~ Clo. Is there no manners left among maids ? will
they wear their plackets, where they should bear
heir faces? Is there not milking-time, when you
ing to-bed, or kiln-hole,"! to whistle off these
ecrets; but you must be tittle-tattling before all

ur guests? "Tis well they are whispering: Cla-
mour vour tongues,!? and not a word more.
Mop. Lhave done. Come, you promised me a

wary lace,'* and a pair of sweet gloves.

Clo. Ilave I not told thee, how I was cozened
by the way, and lost all my money ?

lut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad ;
therefore it behoves men to be wary,

Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing

“lut. T hope so, sir; for | have about me many
parcels of change.
~ Clo, What hast here? ballads 2

Mop. Pray now buy some: I love a ballad in
print, a’-life; for then we are sure they are true.

lul. Here’s one toa very doleful tune, How a
usurer’s wile was brought to-bed of twenty money-
bags at a burden; and how she longed to eat ad-
lers’ heads, and toads carbonadoed.

(10) Amber, of which necklaces were made fit
to perfume a lady’s chamber.

(11) Pire-place for drying malt; still a noted

ssiping-place.

(12) Ring a dumb peal.

ry
12)
(13) A lace to wear about the head or waist,

\

’6 eae.

a

Be Donen a

Silage eee

-

Pe Pee. AS

ei laa ican

  
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
    
   
 
 
   
  
   
    

992 WINTER'S TALE. Act IV.
Mop, Is it true, think you? themselves saltiers:* and they have a dance which
“Aut. Very true; and but a month old. ‘the wenches say is a gallimaufry® of gambols, be-
Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer ! cause they are not in’t; but they themselves are

Aut. Here’s the midwife’s name to’t, one mis- o’the mind (if it be not too rough for some, that
tress Taleporter ; and five or six honest wives’ that|/know little but bowling,) it will please plentifully.

were present: Why should I carry lies abroad? =| Shep. Away! we'll none on’t; here has been
Mop. Pray you now, buy it. ; too much humble foolery already :—I know, sir,
Clo. Come on, lay it by: And let’s first see more;we weary you.
ballads; we’ll buy the other things anon. | Pol. You weary those that refresh us: Pray let’s
iv

Aut. Here’s another ballad, of a fish, that ap-|see these four threes of herdsmen. _
peared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore| Serv. One three of them, by their own report,
of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and|sir, hath danced before the king ; and not the worst
sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids:|of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by
it was thought she was a woman, and was turned)the squire.®
into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh| Shep. Leave your prating; since these good men
with one that loved her: The ballad is very pitiful, ;are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now.
and as true. Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. { Exit.

Dor. Is it true too, think you ?

Aut. Five justices’ hands at it; and witnesses,
more than my pack will hold.

Re-enter Servant, with twelve rustics, habited like
Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt.

Clo. Lay it by too: Another. | Pol. O, father, youll know more of that here-
Aut. This is a merry ballad; but a very pretty after.—

pne. ’ ‘Is it not too far gone ?—’Tis time to part them.—
Mop. Let’s have some merry ones. He’s simple, and tells much. [4side.]|—How now,
Aut. Why this is a passing merry one; and goes| fair shepherd ?

+ the tune o Two maids wooing a man: there’s| Your heart is full of something, that does take
as i dale eis at EK c.f > : : ; ‘ . ;
scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; ’tis in} Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,

— I can tell Peres Sass 'And handed love, as you do, I was wont
Hop. We can both sing it ; if thou’lt beara part, Jo joad my she with knacks: I would have ran-
thou shalt hear ; ’tis in three parts. sack’d
Dor. We had the tune on’t a month ago. _ |The pedler’s silken treasury, and have pour’d it
Aut. I can bear my part ; you must know, ’tis|'T'o her acceptance; you have let him go,
my occupation: have at it with you. And nothing marted’ with him: if your lass
SONG Interpretation should abuse ; and call this
Bea Your lack of love, or bounty: you were straited !*
A. Get you hence, for I must go; For a reply, at least, if you make a care
Where, it fits not you to know. Of happy holding her.
D. Whither? M.'O, whither? D. Whither ?| Flo. Old sir, I know
M. It becomes thy oath full well, \She prizes not such trifles as these are:
Thou to me thy secrets tell: |The gifts, she looks from me, are pack’d and lock’d
D. Me too, let me go thither. |Up in my heart; which I have given already,

M. Or thou zo’st to the grange, or mill: |But not deliver’d.—O, hear me breathe my life
D. If to either, thou dost ill. Before this anci nt sir, who, it should seem,
A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither. Hath sometime lov’d: I take thy hand ; this hand,
D. Thou hast sworn my love to be ; |As soft as dove’s down, and as white as it;
M. Thou hast sworn it more to me: |Or Ethiopian’s tooth, or the fann’d snow,
Then, whither gost ? say, whither ? | ] rey neat the ee blasts twice o’er.
| Ob. la OMOWS Lis [-—
Clo. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves :| How prettily the young swain seems to wash
My father and the gentlemen are in sad! talk, and|The hand, was fair before !—I have put you out:—
we'll not trouble them: Come, bring away thy| But to your protestation; let me hear ~

yack after me. Wenches, I’ll buy for you both :—|What you profess.
Pedler, let’s have the first choice.—Follow me, girls.| Flo. Do, and be witness to’t.
Aut, And you shall pay well for ’em. [dside.| Pol. And this my neighbour too?
Will you buy any tape, \ Flo, And he, and more
Or lace for your cape, | Phan he,and men: the earth, the he avens, and all:
My dainty duck, my dear-a ? 'That,—were I crown’d the most imperial monarch,
Any silk, any thread, Thereof most worthy ; were I the fairest youth
Any toys for your head, |T'hat ever made eye swerve; had force, and know-
Of the new’st, and fin’st, fin’st wear-a ? ledge, ; '
Come to the pedler ; More than was eyerman s,—I would not prize them,
Money’s a medler, |v ithout her love: for her, employ them all;
That doth utter? all men’s ware-a. |\Commend them, and condemn them, to her sérvice,
[Ezeunt Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and|Yr to their own perdition,
Mopsa. Pol. a I airly offer’d,
Pniev' Renwein | Cam. This shows a sound affection,
: ee | Shep, But, my daughter
. 3
Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shep- |Say you the like to him? ; ‘ :
herds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that! Per. I cannot speak

have made themselves all men of hair ;° they call|So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean bettér :

1) Serious. (2) Vend. oe oe a (7) Bought, trafficked, (8) Put to difficulties,
$) Dressed themselves in habits imitating hair.) (9) The sieve used to separate flour from bran is
(4) Satyrs, (5) Medley, (6) Foot-rule, called a bolting-cloth,Scene II. WINTER'S TALE. 293

By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out | Worthy enough a herdsman ; yea, him too,
The purity of his. | That makes himself, but for our honour therein,

Shep. Take hands, a bargain ;—— IU nworthy thee,—if ever, heneeforth, thou
And, friends unknow n, you shi uf bear w vitness to’t:| These rural latches? to his entrance open,
I give my daughter to him, and will make Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
Her portion « qual his. ! will devise a death as cruel for thee,
Flo. QO, that must be \As thou art tender to’t. [Exit.
I’the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, |. Per. Even here undone!
I shall have more than you can dream of yet ; ‘I was not much afeard: for once, or twice,
E nough the n for your won ler: But , COMme ON, i] was about to spe ak; and te ll him plainly,
Contract us "fore these witnesses. ‘he self-same sun, ~~ shines upon his court,
Shep. Come, your hand ;——} Hides not his visage from our cotts age, but
AM daughter yours. |Looks on alike. —W ill’t please you, sir, be gone?
; Soft, swain, a while, beseech you; (To Florizel.
Have you a father ? I told you, what would come of this: ’Beseech you,
Flo. Ihave: But what of him? |Of your own stat e take care: this dream of mine,—
Pol. Knows he of this ? Being now awake 4 \| queen it no inch further,
Flo, He neither does, nor shall, But milk n 1y ewes, and weep.
Pol. Methinks, a father Cam. Why, how now, father?
Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest Speak, ere thou diest.
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more;| Shep. I cannot speak, nor think,
Is not your father grown incapable Nor dare to know that which I know.—O, sir,
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid ) { To Florizel.
With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak?) You have undone a man of fourscore three,
hear ? hat thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea,
Know man from man? dispute his own estate?! |To die upon the bed my father died,
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothin To he close by his hone st bones: but now
But what he did being childish? Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me
Flo. No, good sir; W here no priest shovels-in dust,—O cursed wretch!
He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, | {To Perdita.
Than most have of his age. That knew’st this was the prince, and would’st
Pol. By my white beard, adventure
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong To mingle faith with him.—Undone! undone!
Something runfilial: Reason, my son, If | might die within this hour, I have liv’d
Should choos himself wife: but as TO l rea son, To die wh n | desire. { Exit,
The father (all whose joy is nothing else | Fo. Why look you so upon me?
sut fair posterity,) should hold some counsel I am but sorry, not afeard; delay’d,
In such a business. iBut nothing alter’d: What I was, I am:
lo. I yield all this; |More straining on, for pl lucking back; not following
But, for some other reasons, my grave sir. i\My leash* unwillingly
Which ’tis not fit you know, I not acquaint | Cam, Gracious my lord,
My father of this business. You know your father’s temper: at this time
Pol, Let him know’t. He will allow no speech, —which, I do guess,
Flo. He shall not. Yon de ae purpose to him ;— and as hardly
Pol. Pr’ythee, let him. Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:
Flo. ' No, he must not, {Then, till the fury of his highness settle,
Shep. Let him, my son; heshall not need to grieve ‘Come not before him.
At knowing of thy choice. | Flo. I not purpose it.
Flo. ' Come, come, he must not:— _ {I think, Camillo.
Mark our contract. | Cam, Even he, my lord.
Pol. Mark your divorcee, voung sir, Per. How often have I told you, ’twould be thus?
: [ Discovering himself. | How often said, my dignity would last
yao son I dare not call; thou art too base — {But till ’twere known?
To be acknowlede’d: Thou a sceptre’s heir, ; Pie. It cannot fail, but by
That thus affect’st a sheep-hook?—Thou old traitor, |The violation of my faith; And then
I am sorry, that, by hanging thee, I can but Let Nature crush the sides o’the earth together,

1

Shorten thy life one week.—And thou, fresh piece| And mar the seeds within !—Lift up thy looks :—
Of excell nt witcher if} . who, of force , must know from my suces ssion wipe me, father ! I

The roval fool thou cop’et with ;—— Am heir to my afiectic a
Shep. O, my heart! Cam. Be advis’d.
Pol. T'll have thy beauty scratch’d with briers, Flo. Tam; and by my fanc y:° if my reason
and made ' Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ;
More homely than thy state. —For thee, fond boy,—'If not, my senses, be tter pleas’d with madness,
If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh, Do bid it welcome.

That thou no more shalt see this knack, (as never; Cam. This is desperate, sir,

I mean thou shalt, ) we'll bar thee from succession . Flo. So call | but it doe 8S fulfil my Vow ;

Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, I nee ds must think it honesty, Camillo,

Far? than Deucalion off:—Mark thou my words ; Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may

Follow us to the court.—Thou churl, for this time, Be thereat glean’d; for all the sun sees, Or :

Thou: rh full of our disple isure, yet we free thee The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide

From the dread blow of it. —And you, enchant-|In unknown fathoms, will T break my oath
ment— To this my fair belov’d: Therefore, | pray you,

(3) Doors. (4) A leading string. (5) Love,

(1) Talk over his affairs, (2) Further,SOR ge ee

294 WINTER'S TALE. Act 1V.

As you have e’er been my father’s honour’d friend,
When he shall miss me, (as, in faith, I mean not
To see him any more,) cast your good counsels
Upon his passion; Let myself and fortune
Tug for the time tocome. ‘This you may know,
And so deliver,—I am put to sea
With her, whom here I cannot hold on shre ;
And, most opportune to our need, I have
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar’d
For this design. What course I mean to hold,
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concern me the reporting.
Cam. O, my lord,
I would your spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.
‘Lo. Hark, Perdita.——[ Takes her aside.
I'll hear you by and by. {Z'o Camillo.
Cam. He’s irremovable,
Resolv’d for flight: Now were I happy, if
His going I could frame to serve my turn ;
Save him from danger, do him love and honour ;
Yurchase the sight again of dear Sicilia,
And that unhappy king, my master, whom
I so much thirst to see.

Flo. Now, good Camillo,

I am so fraught with curious business, that

I leave out ceremony. [ Going.
Cam. Sir, I think,

You have heard of my poor services, i’the love
That I have borne your father ?

Flo. Very nobly
Have you deserv’d: it is my father’s music,
To speak your deeds ; not little of his care
To have them recompens’d as thought on.

Cam. Well, my lord,
If you may please to think I love the king ;

And, through him, what is nearest to him, which is)

Your gracious self; embrace but my direction,
(If your more ponderous and settled project
May suffer alteration,) on mine honour
I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
As shall become your highness ; where you may
Enjoy your mistress, (from the whom, I see,
There’s no disjunction to be made, but by,
As heavens forefend! your ruin:) marry her ;
And (with my best endeavours, in your absence,)
Your discontenting! father strive to qualify,
And bring him up to liking.

Flo. How, Camillo,
May this, almost a miracle, be done?
That I may call thee something more than man,
And, after that, trust to thee.

Cam. Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go?

Flo. Not any yet:
But as the unthought-on accident? is guilty
To what we wildly do; so we profess
Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies
Of every wind that blows.

Cam. Then list to me:
This follows,—if you will not change your purpose,
But undergo this flight ;—Make for Sicilia ;
And there present yourself, and your fair princess,
(For so, I see, she must be,) ’fore Leontes ;
She shall be habited, as it becomes
The partner of your bed. Methinks, I see
Leontes, opening his free arms, and weeping
Fis welcomes forth: asks thee, the son, forgiveness,
As ’twere the father’s person: kisses the hands
Of your fresh princess: o’er and o’er divides him

ta} For discontented.
2) This unthought-on accident is the unexpect-
ed discovery made by Polixenes,

 

|*T wixt his unkindness and his kindness ; the one
| Fle chides to hell, and bids the other grow,
Faster than thought, or time. ‘i

Flo. Vorthy Camillo,
What colour for my visitation shall I
Hold up before him?

Can. Sent by the king your father,
To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What vou, as from your father, shall deliver,
| Things known betwixt us three, ll write youdown:
|The which shall point you forth at every sitting,?
| What you must say; that he shall not perceive,
‘But that you have your iather’s bosom there,

‘And speak his very heart.

 

| Flo. I am bound to you:
| There is some sap in this.
| Cam. A course more promising

Than a wild dedication of yourselves

I

|

|'l'o unpath’d waters, undream’d shores; most cer~

tin,

'To miseries enough: no hope to help you;

i) But, as you shake off one, to take another :

| Nothing so certain as your anchors: who

|Do their best office, if they can but stay you

|Where you'll be loath to be: Besides, you know,
Prosperity’s the very bond of love ;

| Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together

|A(fliction alters,

| Per. One of these is true:

(I think, affliction may subdue the cheek,

i But not take in* the mind.

|

|

|

|

,

;

Cam. Yea, say you so?
There shall not, at your father’s house, these seven
years,
| Be born another such.
Flo. My good Camillo,

|She is as forward of her breeding, as
ithe rear of birth.

Cam. I cannot say, ’tis pity
She lucks instructions; for she seems a mistress
To most that teach.
|. Per Your pardon, sir, for this ;
Pll blush you thanks.
| lo. My prettiest Perdita.——
But, O, the thorns we stand upon !—Camillo,—
Preserver of my father, ndw of me:
|The medicine of our house !—how shall we do?
We are not furnish’d like Bohemia’s son ;
Nor shall appear in Sicily-——

Cam, My lord,
Fear none of this: I think, you know, my fortunes
Do all lic there: it shall he so my care ©
'To have you royally appointed, as if
The scene you play, were mine. For instance, sir,
| That you may know you shall not want,—one word,
[They talk aside,

Enter Autolycus.
. : >
| ut. Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is! and trust,
his sworn brother, a very simple wenth man! I have
sold all my trumpery ; not a counterfeit stone, not
a riband, glass, pomander,’ brooch, table-book,
‘ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-
jring, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng
\who should buy first; as if my trinkets had been
jhallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer:
by which means, I saw whose purse was best in
ipicture; and, what I saw, to my good use, I re-
| . :
(3) The council-days were called the sittings.
(4) Conquer.
| (5) A little ball made of perfumes, and worn to
iprevent infection in times of plague.Scene III.

membered.

My clown (who wants but something} Cam. What I do next, shall be, to tell mt kin eee

to be a reason; ible man,) grew so in love with the!

WINTER'S TALE, 605

Ca

wenches’ song, that he would not stir lus pe tlitoes, |Of this escape, and whither they are Moisi

till he had bot h tune and words:
herd to me,
Cars ;

rest of

stuck in

the

il was sensele

of a purse ;

in chain

and adm (rin

of letha
purses :
Ww hoobu

and sca

Liow

thou s k
Lo thee,

elut. Tan

Cam. Wh
hat from the
we must make
inst nuly (t]
and change g: ir?
the pennywort!
thee, there’s

Aut. | am
enough

Cam Nay
is half flayed

Aut. Are
of it.—

Into some covert:
And ae

Dismant

a

ul

rzy, 1 picked and ¢

k it o’er

That I must |

Cam.

Jlave you don ,
FI

Pray yor

1, a

Adieu, |
Flo. O Perdita,

l would have
no heari

*tiwas not

not the old
“yf ee ;
nis daug
rol iT
i { ‘
ry }
L,
my iett
; ; 7
rrive, § iF
;
i Vol

u!—You!

take you
your bro.
nd as ¥

what have we t

4

fi
word.

(2) Som:

{ +) Bundle, |

it

which so drew the| Wherein my hope is, I shall so prevail,

that all their other senses|To force him after: in whose company
you might have pinched a placket,

hing

filed
iring, no feel

nouiing ol

I shall review Si ‘cil a; for whose sight
la cod-piece|I have a woman’s s longing.

, LO TelG a Col “piece

keys off, that hung} Filo, Fortune speed us !—~
ng, but my sir’s song,|Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.

90 that, in this time Cam. The swifter speed, the better.

ost of their festival | Exewunt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo.

man come in witha| ut. I understand the business, T hear it: To

and the king’s son,|have an open ear, a quic k eye, and’ a nimble hand,

the chaff, I had not/is necessary for a cut-purse ; a good nose is requi-

rmy. ite also, to smell out work for the other senses
lita, come forward.|| see, this is the time that the unjust man doth
this means being|thrive. What an exchange had this been without

boot? what a boot is here, with this exchange?
ir that doubt. }Sure the gods do this year connive at us, and we

rocure from king}may do any thing extempore. The prince himselt

‘is about a piece of iniquity; stealing away from

isfy your { rs iis father, with his clog at his heels: If I thought
Happy be you! |it we . ~ t a piece of honesty to acquaint the king
k, shows fair. ee witha ould do’t: I hold it the more knavery
Who have we here? |to cone ‘al it: and ‘herein am I constant to my pr
[Se AuLloiycus. |fession.
s{ ent of this: omit Enter Clown and Shepherd,

\side, aside ;—herce is more matter for a hot brain:
nd, every shop, church, session, hang-
| Jside.\ine, yields a careful man work.

low? Why shakest Clo. See, see; what a man you are now! there
’s no harm intended!is no other way, but 0 tell the king she’s a change-
ling, and none of your flesh and blood.
| Shep. Nay, but hcar me.
*s nobody will steal Clo. Nay, but heer me.
side of thy poverty, Shep. Go to then.
refore, disease thes Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood,
re’s necessity in’t,)|your flesh and oe has not offended the king ;
rentleman: Thoughjand, so, your flesh and blood 1s not to be punished

the worst, yet hold|by him. Show taaae this you found about her

; those secret things, al! but what she has with her:
e well) This being done, let the law go whistle; I warrant
lsid You.

in| Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, yea,

ind his son’s pranks too; who, I may say, is no

)—[ smell the trick|honest man neither to his f ather, nor to me, to go

[.2side.'about to mi ake me the kine’s brother-in-law.
Clo. Ind leed, brother-in-law was the furthest off

rnest: but I cannot! vou could have been io him; and then your blood

had been the dearer, b» ' know how much an ounce.

a ut. Very wisely : ippies ! [ Aside.
vchanee sarments.| Shep. Well: let us (o the king ; there is that in
yhecy this fardel,* will make ‘im scratch his beard,
retire yourself ut. 1 know not whe! impediment this complaint

yeetheart’s hat. nay be to the flicht of ny master.

mufiie your face ; Clo. ’Pray heartily he be at palace.

1, disliken ' | ut. ThoughT am not naturally honest, Iam so
- that you may ymetimes by c hi ince :—Let me pocket up my ped-
a shipboard _ ees xcrement.*—[ Takes off his false beard. | How

: now, rustics? whither are you bound ?
) lies | Shep. To the palace,.an it like your worship.
ae Aut. Your affairs there? what? with whom?
remedy.— the condition of that ‘ardel, the place of your
_” dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having,®
meet my father,| breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known,
you shall have Clo. We are but plaiu fellows, sir.

lavateell my friend.| .4ut. A lie; you are rough and hairy: Let me
é have no lying ; it becom s none but tradesmen, and
wain forgot? they often give us ncidil s the lie: but we pay them

| They converse apart. \for it v ith stamped coin. not stabbing steel ; there-

fore they do not give us ‘he lie.

thing over and ehove. |

arcel | (5) His false beard. (6) Estate, property.

whe296 WINTER'S TALE. Act V.

Clo. Your worship had like to have given us one,{me (for you seem to be honest plain men,) what
if you had not taken yourself with the manner.’ you have to the king : being something gently con-

Shep. Are you a courtier, an’t like you, sir? |sidered,® I’ll bring you where he is aboard, tender

Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I ama courtier.|/your persons to his presence, W hisper him in your
See’st thou not the air of the court, in these enfold-| be halfs; and, if it be in man, besides the king to
ings? hath not my gait in if the measure of thejeffect your suits, here 1s man shall do it.
court 22 receives not thy nose court-odour from| Clo. He seems to be of great authority; close
me? reflect I not on thy baseness, court-contempt ?|with him, give him gold; and though authority be
Think’st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze? from}a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with
thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? ITam|gold: show the ins ide of your purse to the outside
courtier, cap-a-pé ; and one that will eith ushjof his hand, and no more ado: Remember stoned,
on, or pluck back, thy business there: whereupon|and flay ed alive.

  

sir, to undertake the bu-

I command thee to open thy ailair. | Shep. An’t please you,
Shep, My business, sir, 1s to the king. |siness for us, here is that gold I have: Pll make it
Aut. What advocate hast thou to him? las much more; and leave this young man in pawn,

Shep. I know not, an’t like you. till I bring it you.
Clo. Advocate’s the court-word for a pheasant;| ut. After I have done what I promised?
say, you have none. | Shep. Ay, sir.
Shep. None, sir; 1 havenopheasant,cocknorhen.| «ut. Well, give me the moiety :—Are you a party
Auli. How bless’d are we, that are not simple|in this busin

men! | (Clo. In some sort, sir: but though my case bea
Yet nature might have made me as these are, pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.
Therefore I'll not disdain. /lut. OQ, that’s the case of the shepherd’s son:—
Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. Hang him, he’ll be made an example.
Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them| Clo. Comfort, good comfort: we must to the
not handsomely. king, and show our strange sights ; he must know,
Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being|’tis none of your daughter, nor my sistér; we are
fantastical; a great man, I’ll warrant; I know by)gone else. _ Sir, I will give you as much as this old
the picking on’s teeth. man does, when the business is performed ; and re-
Aut. The fardel there? what’s i’the fardel?)main,a ys, your pawn, till it be brought you.
Wherefore that box? /lut. Twill trust you. Walk before toward the
Shep. Sir, there lies sueh secrets in this fardel -side; go on the right hand; I will but look
and box, which none must know but the kine: and|upon the hedge, and follow you.
which he shall know within this hour, if 1 m Clo. We are blessed in this man, as I may say,
come to the speech of him. even blessed, —
Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. Shep. Le before, as he bids us: he was pro-
Shep. Why, sir? vided to do us good. [Exeunt Shep, and Clown.
Aut. The king is not at the palace; he1 o/i If I had a mind to be hone st, I see, fortune
aboard a new ship to purge melancholy, and ld not suffer me; she drops booties in my
himself: For, if thou be’st capable of things ious,;mouth. lame ted now with a dor ble occasion;
thou must know, the king ts full of grief. rold, anda means to do the prince my master good ;
Shep. Sotis said, sir; abouthis son, that should| which, who knows how that may turn back to my
have married a shepherd’s daughter. ay ment? I will bi these two moles, these
Aut, If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let)! nes, aboard him: if he think it fit to shore
him.fly ; the curses he shall have, the tortu m agai nd t the complaint they have to the
shall feel, will break the back of man, th i rk Ol i Con PHS iM NOW, let him call me rogue
monster. — lor being so far O1NC1OUS ; for I am proof avainst
Clo. Think you so, sir? t title, and what else shame belongs to’t: To
Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what witcan make|him will I] ent them, there may be matter in it,
heavy, and vengeance bitter; but those that a [ Exit,

germane‘ to him, though removed fifty times,
all come under the hangman: which thoug!

great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whis- AC'T ¥.

tling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to have his daugh-| .. ,.,,0.) + a ;

ter come into rrace ! Some sav. he ly 1] h stone d 2 wt FoJ¥ i f.—S1cuia, A room tm the palace of

but that death is too soft forhim, say: Draw our) Leontes. Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Pau-

throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few lina, and others.

the sharpest too easy. Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have per-
Clo. Has the old man e’er a son, sir, do you form’d

hear, an’t like you, sir? \ saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,

Aut. He has a son, who shall be flayed alive ;} Which you have not redeem’d ; indeed, paid down
then, ’nointed over with honey, set on the head of More penitence, than done trespass: At the last
y Ye ; . ; so ili he , ) Wwiartare n Lan j . ae
a wasp’s nest; then stand, till he be three-quarters Do, as the heavens have done ; forget your evil;
and a dram dead: then recovered again with aqua-| With them, forgive yourself. :
some other hot infusion: then, raw as he eon hi :
vite, or somé othe r hot infusion: then, raw as h Leon. Whilst I remember
is, and in the hottest aay prognosticats Nn proclain g.° fr, and ner virtues, I cannot forcet
shall be set against a brick wall, the sun looking) My blemishes in them; and so still think of
B P , i. a . 2 + al + or hi iMtikK O
with a southward eye upon him ; where he is to be-|The wrong I did myself: which was so much
hold him, with flies blown to death. But whattalk) That heirless it hath made my kingdom : and.
we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to Dest) he sweet’st companion, that eer
: ear Be e a oe companion, that e’er man
be smiled at, their offences being so capital? Tell’ Bred his hopes out of,

ts} In the fact. (2) The stately tread of courtiers.| (5) The hottest day foretold in the almanac,
$) Cajole or force, (4) Related, | (6) Being handsomely bribed,Scene I.

Paul. True, too true, my lord:

If, one by one, you wedded all the wot Id,

Or, fro m the all t} Mit are . tor yk sometnil F good,

To make a perfect woman; she, you kill’d,
Would sz unparallel’d. ;
Leon. I thi
She I kill’d ? I did so: but
Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter
Upon thy tongue, asin my thought: Now,
now,
Say so but seldom.
Cleo. Not at all, good lady:
You might have spoken a thousand things
would
Hlave done the time more benefit, and grac’d
Your kindness better.
Pai. s ou are one
Would have him wed again.

f

Dion. If you would no

so.
You pity not the state, nor the remembran
Of his most sovereign dame ; consider little,
What dangers, by his hichness’ fail of is
May drop upon his kingdom, and d
Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy,
Than to rejoice, the former queen is well |
What holier, than,—for royalty’s repair,
For present comfort and for future good,—
ity Sone thes bal {m sty
With a sweet fellow to’t?

Paul, 7 ond c<' a as Vy
Respecting her that’s cone. Besides, t
Will have fulfill’d their se ;
For has not t! livine Apollo said,
Is’t not the ts of his
That king I tes s ln
Till his lost « all
js all as mor u mn,
As my Antig ) break hi eC,
And come again | '
Did perish with bil I { :
My lord should t \
UO; nose vain i ‘
The crown will I Great A
Left his to the wo
Was like to b i -

Leon {f;o0d Paul —
ghee has the mem ry of Hermione,
I know, in honou —(), that ever |
od squar ’] me to thy counsel !— eyen now,
I might have look’d upon my queen’s full eye :
Have taken treasure from her lips,-——~

Paul. And left them
More rich, for what they yielded.

Leon. Thou s k’st truth
No more such wives: therefore, no wile: o7 \ Ss
And better us’d, would make her sainted spirit
Avain possess her corpse ; and, on this stage
(Where we offenders now appear, ) soui-vex’d
Ser rin, Al id w/ 7 | fo m (

Paul. Had she such power,
She had just cause.

Leon. : She had: and would incense? me

To murder her I married.

Seal I should so:

Were I the chost that walk’d, I'd bid you ma

Her eve: and tell me, for what

You chose her: then I'd shriek, that even your ears
Should rift? to hear me ; and the ¥ saelinth it follow’d
Should be, Remenwder mime.

Leon, olars, very stars,

2) Instigate,
4)

1) At rest, dead. (
3} Split. (4)

} Meet, .

 

| And all eyes els

WINTER’S TALE. Q07

dead coals !—fear tnou no wife,

(Pll have no wife, Paulina,
Paul, Will your swear
Never to marry, but by my free leave ?
Leon. Never, Paulina; so be bless’d my spirit!
P Then, good my lords, bear witness to his

Cleo. You tempt him over-much.
niet nul, Unless another,

s like He ione as is her picture,
\ fi nil eve.
Cleo. Good madam,—
Paul, I have done.
Yet, if my lord will marry,—if you will, sir,
N medy, but you will; give me the office
['o choose you a queen: she shall not be so young

\s was your former; but she shall be such,
\s, walk’d your first queen’s ghost, it should

leon. My true Paulina,

We shal! not marry, till thou bidd’st us,

P. ul, That

S your first queen’s again in breath ;
Never till t l
Enter a Gentleman.

Gent. One that gives out himself prince Florizel,
Son of Polixenes, with his prineess, (she
faires ive yet beheld,) desires access
i You ivi } .

/ j What with him? he comes not
Like to his father’s greatness: his approach,
.o 6ut of circumstanee, and sudden, tells us,
Tis not a visit in fram’d, but fore’d
>y need, | accident. Vhat train ?

Gent, But few,
And t but 1 n.

Leon. His princess, say you, with him?

Gent. “Ay; | t peerless piece of earth, I

it on.

O Hermione,
\s every time doth beast itself
Above a better, * sO must thy grave
Gin to what’s seen now. Sir, you yourself
lI |. and writ so, (but your writing now
| hat theme,*) She had not been,
Nor wa t to be equalld ;—thus your verse
Flow’d with her beauty once; ’tis shrewdly ebb’d,
| vy, you have seen a better.

Gent, Pardon, madam:
Che one I have almost forgot ; (vour pardon,)

T) ( th r whe rl she has obt: un d your eye,

Will hav uur tongue too. This is such a'creature,
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
/fall professors else ; make proselytes

Of who she but bid follow.
P sal _ How ? not women?
Women will love h r, that she Is a woman
» yrre “ae than any man; men, that she is
{ all women.

Leon. fo, Cleomenes ;
Yourself, assi ed with your honour’d friends,
Bring them te our embracement.—Still ’tis strange

[ Exeunt Cleomenes, Lords, and Ge ntlemen.
He thus should steal upon us.

Paul. Had our prince
(Jewel of children,) seen this hour, he had pair’d
Well with this lord: there was not full a month

Between their births,
(5) i, e. Than the corse of Hermione, the sub

2?

\ject of your writing.208

Leon. Pr’ythee, no more

. He dies to me again, when talk’d of: sure,
When I shall sec this gentleman, thy speec "hes

Will bring me to consider that, which m: Ly
Unfurnish me of reason.—T} hey are come.

Perdita,

 

Re-enter Cleomenes, with Florizel,

q attendants.
Bi) | Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince ;
i For she did print your royal father off,
Conceiving you: Were I but twenty-o1 1e,
| Your father’s im: ge is so hit in you,
His ver ry air, that I shor ld cal] you ‘brothe r,
t
As I dic him : and speak of something, wild]
By us perform’ d before Mos { de arly welcome !
And your fair princess, goddess !—-O, alas!
I lost ta couple, that’ ALwixt he: aven and earth

 

Y” Won cle .

it Might thus have stood, bevett us
You, gracious couple, do! an 3 then I lost
(All mine own folly,) the society,

Amity too, of your brave fat ler ; whom,
Though bearin: x misery, I desire ‘my life

| Once 1 more to look uy pon.

‘lo. by his command
Have I here touch’d Sicilia; and from him
| Give you all greetings, that a king, at fricnd,
Be Can send his brother: and, but infirmity
| (Which waits upon worn time,) hath somethin
} seiz’d
His wish’d ability, he had himself

The lands and waters ’twixt your t]
Measur’d, to look upon you;

irone and his

loves

whom se

Afresh within me; and these thy offices
So rarely kind, are as interpreters
Of my behind- hand slackness !—\Ve

As is the spring to the earth. And ha ith he too
Expos’d this paragen to the fearful wsare
(At least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Ni ep un
To greet a man, not worth he T pains; muc % he SS
The adventure of her person ?

(A prospervus south- wind friendly
To execute the charge my father
For visiting your highness: My |
I have from your Sicilian die s dismiss’d ;
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify
Not only my success in Libya, sir,
But my arrival, and my wife’s, in safety
Here, where we are.
Leon. The blessed
Purge all infection from our air, whust
Do climate here! You have
i A graceful! gentleman ; ag inst whose person
So sacred as it is, I have done sin:
For which the heavens, taking angry note,
Have left me issueless : - and your father’s bless’d
(As he from heaven merits it, ) with you,
Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
Might I a son and daughter now have look’d on,
Such goodly things as you ?

to

ive me,

vest train

rods
you
a holy father,

’

ieee di ss

Full of grace and virtue.
Seize, arrest. (3) Conversation,

WINTER’S TALE.

thou know’st

and| Desires you to attach? his son;

B (He b: ide me say so,) more than all the sceptres,
f And those that bear them, living y
fe Leon. O, my brothe
(Good gentleman!) the wrongs I have donc thee,
stir

Filo. Good my lord,
She came from Libya.
Leon, Where * e warlike Smalus
That noble honour’d Jord, is fear’d, and Jow’d?
Flo. Most royal sir, from th ence; from him,
whose dauchter
His tears proclaim’d his, parting with her: thence

») we havecross’d,

  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
    
  
   
  
 
 
    
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
     
       
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
   
 
  
     
 
 
 
  
  
    

Act ¥.
Enter a Lord.

 

| Lord. Most noble sir,
|That, which I shall report, will bear no credit,
| Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
| Bohemia greets you from himself, by me:
who has

|(His dignity and duty both cast off,)
'Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
|A shepherd’s daughter, ‘

Leon. Where’s Bohemia? speak,

| Lord. Here in the city; I now came from him.

I speak amazedly ; and it becomes

My marvel, and my To your court

| Whiles he was hast’ning (in the chase, it seems,

message.

Of this fair couple,) meets he on the way
= > father of this seeming lady, and
He: r brother, having both their country quitted

With this young prince.

Flo, Camillo has betray’d me ;
Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now,
Endur’d all weathers.

Lord, Lay’t so, to his charge,
He’s with the king your father.

Leon Who? Camillo?

Lord, Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now
H1as these poor men in question. Never saw I
\Wretches so quake ; they kneel, they kiss the earth ;
Forswear themselves as often as they speak :
Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them

With divers deaths in death.
i

rer. O, my poor father !—
‘The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.

You are married ?
sir, nor are we like to be ;
will kiss the valleys first :—
igh and low’s alike.

“We are not,
I see,

for |

febasel
dds
Leo n.

Is this the d

> | his the |

Flo.

7 | y
When once she

Leon.

My lord,
aughter of a king ?
She is,
is my wife.
That once, I

by your good father’s
.

speed
Will come on very slowly I
iVLost sorry, you
VN here you
Y our choice
gh; it you might ¥

am sorry,

ive broke ‘n from his liking,

ed in duty and a as sorry,
so rich in worth® as beauty,
vell enjoy her. Us

}
ii
were ti
;

: not

lo. Dear, look
Phe 1 fortune, visible an enemy,
Should | chase us, with my father; power no jot
Hath she, to change our loves.—’Beseech you, sir,
IXemember since you ow’d no more to time
Than I do now: with thought of your affections,
Step forth mine advocate ; at your re quest,
My father will grant precious things, as trifles.
Leon. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious
mistress,

Which he but a trifle.

counts

noel cir yy
Paul, Sir, my liege,
Your eve hath too much youth in’t: not a month
i Side j i 1: i a *
fore your queen died, she was more worth such

rn 7es8

| Than what
Leon.

you look on now.

I thought of her,
e looks I made.—But your petition

{ 7'o Florizel

1d: I will to your father ;
|Your honour not o’erthrown by your de sires
[ ama triend to them, and you: upon whiche errand
I now co toward him ; therefore, follow me,

i Even in the

 

jis yet unanswe

(4) A quibble on the false dice so called.
} (5) Descent or wealth,Scene I.

And mark what way I make: Come, good my
lord. | Exeunt,

4k

SCENE II.—The same. Before the palace. En-

ler Autolycus and a Gentleman.

“Iul. ’Beseech you, sir, were you present at
relation ?

1 Gent. I was by at the on: nine of the fardel,

heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how h:
found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we
were all commanded out of the chambre r: only
this, methought I heard the shepherd say, he found

4

the child.

slut. | would most cladly know the issue of it.

1 Gent. I make a broken delivery of 1 btusmess
—But the chanves | perceived nm th Kine, Tre
Camillo, were very notes of admiration: the)
scemed almost, with staring on one an to teu
he cases of their eyes: th was speech in their

dumbness, language in their very gesture ; they

looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or
one destroyed: A notable » ission of wonder ap-
peared in them: but the wisest beholder, that kne1
no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance:

were joy, Or sorrow: but in the extremity of the

one, it must needs be.

Ye fon ~m i - oy #1 ose
Ente GNOCi (y ic}

Here comes a gentleman, that,! ily, knows?
The news, Rogero ?

2 Gent. Nothing but bonfires: The o ic ts ful-
filled: the kine’s daughter is found: su dea
of wonder is broken out within this hour, that bal-
lad-makers cannot be able to express i!

Enter at ! Gentlemar
Here comes the lady Paulina’ vard
deliver you more.—How goes it 1
news, which is called true, is so li an old t
that the verity of it is in strong : picion : ia
the king found his heir?

3 Gent. Most truc; if ever trut
by circumstance: that, which vou
swear you see, there is such unity in
The mantle of queen Hermi iab
the neck of it -—tLtie le titers < { \ i! Us, | pul]
with it, which they know to be his character :—t!

majesty of the creature, in resemblance of the
mother :—the affection? of nobleness, which nature

shows above her breeding,—and many other ey}-
dences, proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the
king’s daughter. Did you see the mecling of the

;

two kings |

2 Gent. No.

3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which was
to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you
have beheld one joy crown anoth i
such manner, that, it seeme d, sorrow wc]
leave of them; for their joy waded in tears. There

feta et
was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands; wi

r

nt to take

 *% ‘

countenance of such distraction, that they were to
be known by garment, not by favour.? Our Icin

being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his
found daughter; as if that joy were now becom:
a loss, cries, O, thy mother, thy mother! then asks
tohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son- i
law: then again worries he his daughter, with
clipping* her; now he thanks the old shepherd,
which stands by, like a weather-beaten conduit of
many kings’ reigns. I never heard of such anotner

(1) The thing imported.
(2) Disposition or quality.

j

WINTER'S TALR. 299

A

encounter, which lames report to follow it, and un-
does description to do it.

2 Gent, What, pray you, became of Antigonus,
that carried hence the child ?

3 Gent, Like an old tale still; which will have
matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and
not an ear open: He was torn to pieces with a
bear: this avouches the shepherd’s son; who has
not only his innocence (which seems much,) to jus-
lily him, but a handkerchicf, and rings, of his, that
Paulir a knows.

L Gent. What became of his bark, and his fol-

iOWeCrs
>} Gent. Wrecked, the same instant of their
‘ ; }
LSL¢ ceatn

and in the view of the shepherd:
instruments, which aided to expose

he child, were even then lost, when it was found,
e noble combat, that, ’twixt joy and sor-

, was fought in Paulina! She had one eye de-
lined for the loss of her husband ; another elevated

that the oracle was fulfilled: She lifted the prin-
‘ess from the earth; and so locks her in embracing,

is 1 she would pin her to her heart, that she might
no more be in danger of losing.
1 Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the
nilies of kings and princes; for by such was it

3 Gent. One of the prettiest touches of all, and

t which angled for mine eyes (caught the water,

h not the fish,) was, when at the relation of

1¢ queen’s death, with the manner how she came

it, (bravely confessed, and lamented by the king, )

iow attentiveness wounded his daughter: till, from

rn of dolour to another, she did, with an

| fain say, bleed tears ; for, iam sure,

my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there, *

some swooned, all sorrowed: if

id have seen it, the wo had been
, they returned to the court?

} Gent. No: the princess hearing of her mother’s

ue, which is in the keeping of Paulina,—a piece

ny years in doing, and now newly performed by

re Italian master, Julio Romano; who, had
himself eternity, and could put breath into his
work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so per-
fectly he is her ape: he so near to Hermione hath
done Hermione, that, they say, one would speak to

her, and stand in hope of answer: thither, with all
reediness of affection, are they gone; and there
they intend to sup.

2 Gent. I thought, she had some great matter
there in hand; for she hath privately, twice or
thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione
visited that removed® house. Shall we thither, and
with our company piece the rejoicing ?

1 Gent. Who would be thence, that has the bene-
fit of access? every wink of an eye, some new
zrace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty

» our knowledze. Let’s along.

’ { Exeunt Gentlemen.

ut. Now, had I not the dash of my former life
in me, would preferment drop on my head, I
brought the old man and his son aboard the prince ;
told him, I heard him talk of a fardel, and I know
not what: but he at that time, over-fond of the
shepherd’s daughter, (so he then took her to be,)
who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little
better, extremity of weather continuing, this mys-
tery remained undiscovered, But ’tis all one to
me: for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it

(4) Embracing,
(6) Remote,

(3) Countenance, features,
(5) Most petrified with wonder.ie RRR a He

300 WINTER’
would not have relished among my other discredits.

Enter Shepherd and Clown.

Here come those I have done good to against my
will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their
fortune.

Shep. Come, boy; I am past more children; but
thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born.

Clo. You are well met, sir: You denied to fight
with me this other day, because I was no gentle-|
man bern: See you these clothes? say, you see
them not, and think me still no gentleman born:
you were best say, these robes are not gentlemen
yorn. Give me the lie; do; and try whether I am|
not now a gentleman born.

Aut, I know, you are now, sir, a gentleman born.

Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these four|
hours.

Shep. And so have I, boy.

Clo. So you have:—but I was a gentleman born
before my father: for the king’s son took me by th
hand, and called me, brother; and then the two
kings called my father, brother; and then th
prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister,
called my father, father; and so we wept: and
there was the first gentleman-like tears that eve:
we shed.

Shep. We may liye, son, to shed many more.

Clo. Ay ; or else ’twere ha
preposterous estate as we a:

Aut. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon m«
all the faults I have committed to your worship,
and to give me your good report to the prince my)
master.

Shep. ’Pr’ythee, son, do; for we must be gentle,
now we are gentlemen.

Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life ?

/lut, Ay, an it like your good worship.
Clo.. Give me thy hand: I will swear to th
prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in

Bohemia.

Shep. You may say it, but not swear it.

Clo. Not swear it, now 1 ama gentleman? Let
boors and franklins' say it, (’l! swear it.

Shep. How if it be false, son?

Clo. If it be ne’er so false, a true gentleman may

‘d luck, being in so|

swear it in the behalf of his friend:—And Ill
swear to the prince, thou art a tall? fellow of thy
hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I)

know, thou art no tall-fellow of thy hands, and that
thou wilt be drunk; but I’!l swear it: and I would,
thou would’st be a tall fellow of thy hands.

lut. I will prove so, sir, to my power.

Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I
do not wonder, how thou darest venture to b
drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not.—Hark
the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going
to see the queen’s picture. Come, follow us: we'll
be thy good masters. [ Eweunt.

SCENE JII.—The same. 2 room in Paulina’s
house. Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Per-
dita, Camillo, Pauiina, Lords, and Allendants.
Leon, O grave and good Paulina, the

fort

That I have had of thee!

Pad. What, sovercien sir,

I did not well, I meant well: All my services,

You have paid home: but that you have vouchsaf’d

With your crown’d brothe:, and these your con-

tracted

Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit,

(1) Yeomen.

great com-

(2) Stout. |

S TALE. Act V,

It is a surplus of your grace, which never

|My life may last to answer.

| Leon. O Paulina,

‘We honour you with trouble: But we came

'To see the statue of our queen: your gallery

| Have we pass’d through, not without much content

‘In many singularities; but we saw not

That which my daughter came to look upon,

The statue of her mother.

Pau. As she liv’d peerless,

So her dead likeness, I do well believe,

Excels whatever yet you look’d upon,

Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it

Lonely, apart: But here it is: prepare

To see the life-as lively mock’d, as ever

Still sleep mock’d death: behold ; and say, ’tis well.
[Paulina undraws a curtain, and dis-

covers a statue,
[ like your silence, it the more shows off

‘

Your wonder: But yet speak ;—lirst, you, my liege.
Comes it not something near ?
Leon, Her natural posture !—

Chide me, dear stone; that I may say, indeed,
Uhou art Hermione: or, rather, thou art she,

In thy not chiding ; for she was as tender,

\s infaney, and grace.—But yet, Paulina,
Hermione was not so much wrinkled ; nothing

90 aged, as this seems. .

Pol, O, not by much.

Paul. So much the more our carver’s excellence »
Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her
As s| liv’d how.

Leon. As now she might have done,
So mueh ton y sood comlort, as it is
Now piercing tomy soul, OQ, thus she stood,
Even with such life of majesty, (warm life,
\s now it coldly stands,) when first I woo’d her!
oes not the stone rebuke me,
or being more stone than it?—O, royal piece,
here’s magic in thy majesty; which has
ils conjur’d to remembrance; and
I hy admiring daughter took the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee !
Per. And give me leave ;
And do not say, ’tis superstition, that
| kneel, and then implore her blessing.—Lady,
Dear queen, that ended when I but began,
Give me that hand of yours, to kiss,

Paul. O, patience,
The statue is but newly fixed, the colour’s
Not dry.

Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on:

Which sixteen winters cannot blow aw ay,
.O many summers, dry: scarce any joy.
Did ever so long live; no sorrow,

But kull’d itself much sooner.

Pol, Dear my brother,
Let him, that was the cause of this, have power
To take off so much grief from you, as he
Will piece up In himself.

Paul. Indeed, my lord,

If l had thought, the sight of my poor image

Would thus have wrought® you, (for the stone is
mine, )

I’d not have show’d it.

T con. Do not draw the curtain.
Paw. No longer shall you gaze on’t; lest you
ancy
May think anon, it moves.
Leon. Let be, let be.

W ould [ were dead, but that methinks already—
i> Is os lh « iol « — . :
What was he, that did make it ?—See, my lord,

(3) Worked, agitated,Would you not deem, ‘eath’d? and that tho:
yeins
Did verily bear blood ?
Pol, Masterly don
The very life seems warm upon her lip.
Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in’t,!
As? we are mock’d with art.
Paul. Ill draw the curtain
My lord’s almost so far transported, that
He’ll think anon, it lives,
Leon, O sieet P tlina,
Make me to think so twent years together ;
No settled senses of the ek in matecn
The sles sure of that eae Let’t alone
Paul, 1 am sorry, sir, I have thus { Stir
you: but
I could afflict you further.
Leon ; Do. a lina;
For this affliction has a taste as sweet
As any cordial comfort.—Still, methinks
There is an air comes from her: What ine chis
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock m
For I will kiss her.
Paul. Good my lord, forb
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet ;
You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own
?

With oily

Leon. No, not these twenty years.

Per. So long could I
Stand by, a looker on.

Paul, Either forbear,

Quit presently the chapel; or resolve you

For more amazement: If you can behold it,

I’ll make the statue move indeed ; descend,

And take you by the hand: but then you'll thir k
(Which I protest against,) I am assisted

By wicked powers.

#on. What you can make her do,
I am content to look on: what to speak
Ig god ver nt to hear; for tis as easy
To om: ike he r speak, as mo}

Paul. It requir’d,
You do awake your faith: The ll stand still
Or those, that think it is unlawful b
I am about, let them depart

Leon. Proce :

No foot shall stir.
Paul Music; aw: ke her: strike—
[Mr
"Tis time: descend: be stone no more ppl
Strike all that look upon with marvel. C i
Ill fill your grave up: stir; n col i
Beque ath to deat h your numbn I ym. him
Dear life redeems you.—You | cel e st
[Hermione comes down from l
Start not: her actions shall be ! , as,
You hear, my apell is lawful: do not shun her,
Until you see her die again ; for then
You kill her double: Nay, present your hand
When she was young, you woo d her; now, in ay
Is she become the suitor.
Leon. O,. she’s warm ! [ mobi ( I

If this be magic,

    
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
   
 
 
   
  
   
    
  
   
  
    
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
    
  
  
 
   
 
  
 
    
   
  
    
    
 
   
   
  
  
  

Scene ITI.

Lawful as eating.

(1)

i.e. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have|

motion in it.

(2)

As if,

 

let it be an art

painting: Shall I draw th

Qe

WINT

curtain 7

ER’S

  

TALE. 30L

She embraces him.

un. She hangs a bout his ne ck;
i
i{ she pertain to Tite let her speak too.
Pol. Ay, and make’ t manifest where she has
liv’d,
Or, how stol’n from the dead.

Paul, That she is living,
Were it but told you, should be hooted at
n old tale; but it appears, she lives,

Phou h yet she speak not. Mark a little ‘while.—

Please you to interpose, fair madam; kneel,

And pray your mother’s blessing.—Turn, good
lady ;

Our Perdita is found.

[Presenting Per. who kneels to Her.
Her. You gods, look down,

Ai irom your §& acred vials pour your graces
| : my daughter’s head !—Tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been pre serv’d? where liv’d?

how found

Thy father’s court if for thou shalt hear, that I,—
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle

Gave hope thou wast in being,—have preserv’d
Myself, to see the issue.

There’s time enough for that ;
upon this push to trouble
lation. —Go together,
You precious winners? all; your exultation
Partake* to every one. I, an old turtle,
wither’d bough ;

Lest they desire,

Our JOYS WIth like re

and there

ome

iy mate, that’s never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.

Leon O peace, Paulina ;
lhou should’st a husband take by my consent,

match,
Thou hast found

s I by thine, a wife: this is a
nd mace between’s by vows.

—

iestion’d: for I saw her,
1; and have, in vain, said many

yer u 1 her grave: Vl! not seek far

tor him, i p ly know his mind, ) to find thee

1 honourable husband :—Come, Camillo,
ind take her by the hand: whose worth, and
Is richly not and here justified
Ry us, a pair of kings.—Let’s from this place.—
\\ hat ?—Look upon my brother ;—both your par-

{ yi
e’er 1 put between your holy looks
My ill sus} cae ne eT} is your son-in-law,
And son ur » ki (whom heavens directing,)
th«plii rht to ) your daughter. —Good Paulina,
Lead us from henc vhere we may leisurely
i e dema _ and answer to his part
Perform’d Jn sw ide gap of time, since first
We wer di sever’d: Hastily lead away, [Exe,
—<p>—_—

This play, as Dr. Warburton justly observes, is,
with all ifs absurdities, ‘very entertaining. The
character of Autolycus is naturally conceived, and

!

epresented.
i

JOHNSON,

(3) You who by this discovery have gained what
a desired
iyou aesirea,

| (4) Participate,ate eer) ed

302

 

| COMEDY OF ERRORS.

 

 

 

 

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.
a Solinus, duke of Ephesus. 12 merchant, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse.
if iEgeon, a merchant of Syracuse. (Pinch, a schoolmaster, and a conjwrer.
twin brothers, and sons| “ F
Antipholus of Ephesus, 4 lo JEgeon and JEmi-|/Emilia, wife to Egeon, an abbess at ee ag
t Antipholus of Syracuse, “he lia, but unknown to} Adrian: i wife to ntip! hol: is of Ephesus
i 2 ach olher. Lue jana, her sister.
Dromio of Ephesus, ;thoin orothers, - ae are, oe Serpe Ys
4 < dants on the tivo Anti-|.4 courtezan.
Dromio ef Syracuse, } pholus’s ;
ii Balthazar, a merchant. | Gaoler, officers, and other attendants.
i Angelo, il goldsmith, Scene, Ephesus.
iI
W tas i satin, ities die At ale
| a
4 wr dk {Unto a woman, happy but for me,
i |And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
1 SCENE o~ hall in the Duke’s Palace. Enter| With her I liv’d in joy; our wealth increas’d,
b Duke, 2 /.geon, Gaoler, officer, and other atlend-| By proen rous voyages I oflen made
| ants. To Epidamnum, till my factor’s death ;
]

oe (nd he (great care of goods at random left)

whe SEN, Drew me ie kind embracements of my spouse
i ‘rom whom my absence w as not six months ol ld,
4 Procrr D, Solinus, to procure my fall, bctore herself (almost at fainting, under

B And, by the doom of de eath, end woes and all. Che pleasing punishment that women bear, )
t Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more; {Had made provision for her following me,
By I am not partial, to infringe our laws; |And soon, and safe, arrived where I was.
The enmity and discord, which of late There she had not been long, but she became
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke |A joyful mother of two goodly sons;

 

To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
Who, wanting guilders! to redeem their eu, \s could nol pe oe vd t by names.
Have seal’d his rigorous st: atute 6 os their bloods,—| ‘That very hour, and in the se asm: inn,
Excludes all pity from our threat’ning looks. \ poor mean woman was delivered
For, since the mortal and intestivie jars Of such a burden, male twins, both alike
*T wixt thy seditious countrymen and us, Tho se, for their parents were exceeding poor,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed, [ bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves, My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns: Made daily motions for our home return:
Nay, more, Unwilling I agreed ; alas, too soon.
If any, born at Ephesus, be scen We came aboard:
At any Syracusan marts? and fairs ; |A league from Epidamnum had we sail’d,
Again, If any Syracusan born Before the always-wind-obey ing deep
Come to the bas of Ephesus, he dies, Gaye any tragic instance of our harm:
His goods confiscate to the duke’s d ispose : But longer did we not retain much hope ;
Unless a thousand marks be le vie “cl, For what obscured hieht the heavens did frant
To quit the penalty, and to ransom him. Did but convey unto our fearful minds
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, \ doubtful warrant ef immediate death
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks : Which, on gh myself would gladly h: ive embrae’d,
Therefore, by law thou art condemn’d to die. Yet the icessant weepings of my wife,
Eve, Yet this my comfort; when your words Weeping before for what she saw must come,
are done, : And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
My woes end likewise with the evening sun. ‘That mourn’d for fashion, oe ant what to fear,
Duke. Well, Syrac usan, say, in brief, the cause Fore’d me to seek dk ‘lays for them and me.
Why thou departedst from thy native home ; And this it was,—for other means was none.—
And for what cause thou cam’st to E. phesus. The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
/Ege, A heavier task could not have been im-|And left the ship, then sinking ripe, to us:
pos’d, |My wife, more careful for the latter born,
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable : 'Had fasten’d him unto a small spare m ist,
\ Yet, that the world may witness, that my end Such as sea-faring men provide for st orms ;
i Was wrought by nature,? not t by vile offence To him one of the other twins wa s bound,
Ill utter what my sorrow gives me leave. Whilst I had been like heedful of the other,
In Syracusa was I born ; and wed The children thus dispos’d, my wife and I,

(1) Name of a coin, (2) Markets, (3) Natura] affection.Beens IT. ey

Fixing our eves On Whoih buf care was
tasten’d ourselves at either end the ma
And floating straight, obedient to the st
Were carried tow ile Corinth, as we tl

At length the sun, gazing upon the eart

Dispers’d those vapours that offended us :

And, by the bénefit of his wish’d lieht

The seas wax’'d « “alm, and we discovers

IMEDY

fix'd,
SL ;
ream,
Ou rhil e
hy

Two ships from far making amain to us,

oi orinth that, of Epidaurus this:

But ere they came,—Q, let me say no mor

Gather the sequel by that went befor

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off

BG *

+ ’

For we may pity, though not pardon th

‘ : :
aa i had th > fOdS Gone so, l had ni

W orthily term’d them merciless to us!

Kk or, ere the ships could meet by twice fi
We were encounter’d by a mighty rock
Which being violently borne upon

Our helpful ship was splitted in the mids

So that, in this unjust divorce of us,

Fortune had left to both of us alik:

What to delight in, what to sorrow for

Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser w
Was carried with more speed before the wi
And in our sight they three were taken up

By fishermen of Corinth, as we thou

At length, another ship had seized on us
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck’'d
And would have reft' the fishers o!

Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
And therefore homeward did they | yuu
Thus have you heard me sever’d from 1
That by misfortunes was my li l,

 

To le ll sad stor

Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrows

for,

Do me the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall’n of them, and thee, til] now.

JE ce. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest «
At eivhteen years became inquisitive
After his brother ; and impértun’d me,
That his attendant, (for his case 1 like,
Reft of his brother, but retain’d his name,)
Might bear him company in the quest of him
Whom whilst I labour’d of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov’d.
Five summers have | spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming clean? through the b yunds ¢ f Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ;
Hlopeless to find, yet loth to leave un igiit,
Or that, or any place that h irb urs men,
But here must end the story of m ife :
And happy were | in my timely death,

Could all my travels warrant me they live

Duke. Hapless AZgeon, whom the fates |

mark’d

To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which yrinces, would they, may not disannul,
My coal should sue an advocate for the
But, though thou art adjudged to the d ith,
And passed sentence may n yt be recall’d,

fut to our honour’s great disparagement,
Yet will | favour thee in what I can: —
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help:

rs corn iplet ly.

Clear
The sien of t

(1) Deprived. (2) ¢
(3) Go, (4)

thei ir hotel.

ERRORS, 03

Try all the friends thou hast in Bpnes Sis j
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if not, then thou art doaealal to die :—
Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
Gaol. I will, my lord,

.£é. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ag geon wend,?
But | to procrastinate his lifele ss end, [Exeunt.

SC E vy EC II.—1 public place. Enter Antipholus
/ Dromio of Syracuse, and a Merchant.

| Me r. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,
est that your goods Loo soon be confiscate.

this very day, a Syracusan merchant

Is apprehended for arrival here ;

And, not being able to bi iy out his life,
\ccordine to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
there 1s your money that I had to kee p.
int. S. Go bear it to oY entaur,* where we host,
And stay there, Droinio, till I come to thee.

VVithin this hour it will be dinner-time :

Pill that, Vil view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, ¢ ze upon the buildings,
(nd then return, an id slee p within mine inn ;

lor with long travel I am stiff and weary.
rel tn away,
Dro, S, Many a man would take you at your
1 { a,
And go indeed, having so good a mean.
[Exit Dro. S,
“Int. S. A trusty villain,® sir; that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
} my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town,
\nd then go to my inn, and dine with me?
er. 1 am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
Tie I h to make much benefit ;
[crave your pardon. Soon, at five o’clock,
Please ¥ Tr i! meet with you upon the mart,®
\ tLerwards consort you till bed-time :
1 t b s calls me from you now.
“Int. S. Farewell till then: Iwill go lose myself,

And wat up and down, to view the city.
Wer. Sir, 1 commend you to your own content.
| awit Merchant,

“int. S. He that commends me to mine own

mends me to th ¢ I cannot get.

| to the world am like a drop of water,
Mhat in the ocean seeks another drop ;
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, Inquisitive, confounds himself:

So [, to find a mothe rs and a brother,

ln quest of th in, unhappy, lose myself,
Enter Dromio of Ephesus.

licre comes the almanac of my true date,—

What now? Howchance, thou art return 'd so soon?
‘turn’d so soon! rather approach’d

The ae yn burns, the, pig falls from the spit ;
l" lock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot because the meat is cold;

The meat is cold, because you come not home ;

You come not home, because you have no stom: ch;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast ;
But we, that know what ’tis to fast and pray,
\re penitent for your default to-day.
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I
pray
Where have you left the money that I gave you?

(5) 7, e, Servant, (6\ Exchange, market-place,eee ae

304

Dro. E, 0,—six-pence,
i last,

ia To pay the saddler for my 1
bia The sediiler. Bae & sir, I kept it not.
thy Ant. S. I am not in a sportiv:
Hh Tell me, and dally not, where is the money
| We being strangers here, how dar’st thou trust
4 So great a charge from thine ov
Dro. E. 1 pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinne
I from my mistress come to you in post;

If I return, [ shall be post indeed:

ree

Hi: | For she wil! score vour fault: mmy pate
} : P
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be yo

‘ slne
i clock,

 

Where 18 the gold I eave tn charge to thee ?
Dro. E. Tome, sir? wl

| Aint. 3. .

| foolishness,

i And tell me, how thou hast dispos’d thy charge.

i Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you fr

ot the marl

i Home to your house, the Pheenix, sir, to dinner ;

i My mistress, and - r sister, stay for you.

h int. S. No lam a Christian, answer me

} In what safe ibe you} ye bestow’d my

ti Or I shall break that mei

That stands on tricks wl lam

Where is the tho nd mari ie?
Dro. E. I have some 1 fy 1]
I pate,

Some of my mistress’ 1

But not a thousand rn
if l should pay yo ir y

Perchance, you will not b
/int. S Thy mi i . ks! ¥ i (
slave, [ 1 se ;
Dro, E: Your worship’s wife, my 1
the Phoenix ;

She that doth fast, till u col me to
And pray
Ant. S.
j face,
Being forbid ? There, take you that, sir knave.
Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God’s sak
hold 5 yur hand
Nay, an you will not, sir, Pll take my h

~ i Mit YOu Wiil fil

Ant. S. Up yy my Life . by som acvic oO
The villain is o’er-rau of all} ; ney.
They say, this
As, nimble jugglers, that deceir 1e eye.
Dark-working sorcerers, t chang

' Soul-killing witches, that « rn
Disguised cheaters, prating mou
And many s&s ich like Hit riies of 811
If it prove so,-I will be gone t}
I'll to the ¢
l greatly fear, my money is ne

town 18 lull O1 ¢

entaur, to ro 8CeK i

= te

i SCENE I.— 41 public yah
i an { 1.1 mn.
Adr, Neither my !
That in such haste | sent to seek his master!

Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clo

(1) Hen

} |
nusoa

\
ached,

    

(2) Overere

COMEDY OF ERRORS.

H And strike you home withou 1eSS

! Ant. d. Come, Drom) . Come, ti jests are
i out of season ;

y Reserve them till a merrier hour than thi

Come on, sir knave, have dune your

"What, wilt thou flout me tl unto my

‘ . ;
a rthestlave return’:

Act IT,

Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him,
4nd from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner,
'\Good sister, let us dine, and never fret:
|A man is master of ls liberty:
Time is their master; and, when they see time,
They’ll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister.
| rty than ours be more?

ldr. Why should then libe
Jiuic. Because their business still lies oul o’door,
Adr. Look, j serve him so, he takes it ill.
. O, know, he bridle of your will.
Adr. There's 1 : asses, will be bridled so,
Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with wo,
: » under hee aven’s eye,

irth, in sea, in sky:

s, and the winged fowls,

‘ts, and at their ec ontrols

when
is the
hut

S NYUnNe, i

(
1 more divine, and masters of all these,
I of the wide world, and wild wat’ry seas,
Ind with intellectual sense and souls,
){ re pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are! ters to their females, and their lords:
hen l our will attend on their accords,

cabatesil — ;
S ServiLtude MaKeES VOU LO
s, but troub

you

keep unwed,
marriage bed.
would bear

les of the

We dded, you

ise to obey.
other-

rn lt ve,

I'll pract

your husband start some
1 “( ;
Lu Pill come home a I would forbear.
wl Pi e uumov’d, no marvel though she
; mee} t nave no other cause,
is’d wit dversity,
\ Crl We AL Gry =
en’d with like weight of pain,
' more, we should ourselves complain:
nkind e to grieve thee,
\\ patience would’st relieve me:
f thou live 1 e like right bereft,
foo!)- ‘d patience in thee will be left
] . Well, I will marry one day, but to try :—
Mere comes your man, now is your husband nigh,
Enter Dromio of Ephesus,
Adv, Say, is your tardy master now at hand ?
Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and
t my two ears can witness,
A Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st
thou his mind?
Dro. FE. Ay, av, he told his mind upon mine ear:
R rew his hand, J searce could understand it.
j Spal » doubtfully, thou couldst not
| ' nil : re
Dro. Ek. Nay, he struck so plainl; : I could too
blows; and withal so doubtfully, that
[i irce understand them.,?
4 B , | pr’ythee, is he coming home?
i ms, ie } Cal care to pl ise his wife,
] ik. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-

dr. Horn-mad, thou villain
Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad; but,
he’s stark mad:
When I desir’d him to come home to dinner,
He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold:
’Tis dinner-time, quoth I; My gold, juoth he
|Your meat doth burn, quoth 1; Wy gold, quoth he:
| Will you come home ? quoth I: My gold, quoth he:
thousand marks IT gave thee, villain?
pig, quoth I, ts burn’d; My § gold, « juoth he:
My mistress, str, quoth I; Hang up thy mistress }

sure,

3) t ¢, Searce stand under them,Scene I.
Tknow not thy mi

Lue, Quoth who?

Dro. E, Quoth my master:
Tknow, quoth he, nO house, no wife, 10
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,

,

I thank him, I bear home upon my should

4

For, in conc ‘lus on, he did beat me there.

“idr. Go back again, thou slave, and [i

home.

Dro. E. Go back again, and be ne

home ?

For God’s sake, send some other messen
dr. Back, slave, or | will break thy }
Dro. E. An dh

beating

Between you, I sh ill have a holy |
Aldr. Hence, prating peasant; |

home.

Dro. FE.
That like a football you do sp mé
You spurn me hence, and he wil
If I last in this service, 1 must ¢ me i

r

Luc. Fie, how impatience |
“ldr. His compa: i
Whilst I at home starve |
Hath homely age the alluri
From my poor chee! 1
Are my dist i?
pe volut le and s
Unk indnes ; blunts it, n

é

By him not ruin’d? the

Of my defeatures:' My

A sunny look of his

But, unruly deer, h
And feeds from home: } |

Luc. elf-arming ye Liou _- ’
/ldr. t nfeeling fools can ith 1 ¥
pense.

I know his eye doth |

Or ¢ Ise, what lets* it bi
Sister, you know he promis’
Would that alone, al

So he would keep fair «

I see, the je wel, best enamelled,

Will lose his beautv: and thou! Id?

That others touch, yet often to VN

Wear gold : and so no m |

But falsehood and corruption doth it shan

Since that my beauty cannot pl hn

Vi weep what’s left away, and weepi
Luc. How many fond fool ve mad

SCENE I1.—Tii ¢. Enter Ant

OVvracu

int. 8. The old. | ‘ vr to 1) omio, 18
C, ,

Sale at the taur :
Is wa nade r *d forth, iti ¢ Lo ex Mm
By computation, and mine is rene

e

I could not speak with |

] sent him from the mart: See, here he com

Enter Dromio of Syracuse.

How now, sir? is your merry humow

As you love strokes, so jest with me Lin.
You know no Cent: aur ? you receiv 7 no gold 1

1) Alteration of features. x Patt,
$3) Stalking-horse. ) Hinders,
5) t, ¢. Intrude on them Wis n vou plea

COMEDY

5 ate iRies ainda
isfress * out on thy mistr:

Tt ‘will bless that ec) W it

Am Iso round with you, as you 1%

for fairness.

FE

ERROR

mi

1) Se

ul

S, 305

ess sent to have me home to dinner?
was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,

-o madly thou didst answer me?

What answer, sir? when spake I such
word |

Even now, even here, not half an hour
1 did not*see you since you sent me

Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
Villain, thou didst deny the gold’s re-

me of a mistress and a dinner ;
, thou felt’st I was displeas’d.
l am clad to see you in this merry vein:
t? 1 pray you, master, tell me.
Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the
eth
t? Hold, take thou that, and
| Beating hem.
i God’s sake now your
ve it me
tl liarly sometimes
{ t with you,
love,
| TT ike spo j
es his beam
‘ -
| iy won '
would leave
cad an you
} ' t a sconce for my
or else | shall seek my
But, | pray, sir, why am |
?
but that I am beaten.
wherefore for, they say,
Why, ,—-for flouting me; and then,
nd time to me.
\\ the ever any man thus beaten
why, and the wherefore, is neither
ey ry ; aun
| nk vou,
J cme, sir? for what?
vi sir, for this something that you

ll! make you amends next, to give you
inething. But say, sir, is it dinner-

No, sir; I think, the meat wants that I

r, what's that?

Well, sir, then "twill be dry.

If it be, sir, | pray you eat none of it.
your reason?

Lest it make you choleric, and purchase
dry basting.

Well, sir, learn to jest in good time ;

Tj ‘ | ir all things.

;

I durst have denied that, before you

holeric,

By what rule, sir?

(6) Study my countenance,

/

(7

) A sconce was a fortification,

£QSrnivetereenttiip sicoy tite

306 COMEDY OF ERRORS, ot If.

Dro. 8. Marf¥, sir, by & rule as plain as the
plain bald pate of father Time himself,

Ant. S. Let’s bear it.

Dro. S. There’s no time for a man to recover
his hair, that grows bald by nature.

Ant. S. May he not doi: by fine and recovery ?

Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and re-
cover the lost hair of anoth: r man.

Ant. S. Why is time such a niggard of hair,
being, as it is, so plentiful in excrement ?

Dro. S. Because it is a b'essing that he bestows
on beasts: and what he hai1 scanted men in hair,
he hath given them in wit.

Ant. S. Why, but there’s many a man hath more
hair than wit.

Dro. S. Not a man of these, but he hath the wit
to lose his hair.

Ant. S. Why, thou didsi conclude hairy men
plain dealers without wit.

‘ * hi wha
And teat the stain’d skin off my harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And break it with a deep-divoreing vow ?
I know thou canst ; and therefore, see, thou do it.
I am possess’d with an adulterate blot ;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust :
For, if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed ,
I live dis-stain’d, thou undishonoured.

Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know

you not:

In Ephesus T am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town, as to your talk;
Who, every word by all my wit being seann’d,
Want wit in all one word to understand.

Luc. Fie, brother! how the world is chang’d

with you!

 

Dro, S. The plainer dealer. the sooner lost: Yet
he loseth it in a kind of jollity.
Ant. S. For what reason ?

\Vhen were you wont to use my sister thus ?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.
Ant. S. By Dromio?

Dro. S. For two; and sovad ones too. | Dro. S. By me? .

Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. | 4dr. By thee: and this tnou did’st return from
Dro. S. Sure ones then. | him,—_ >

Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. | That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows,

Dro. S. Certain ones then. |Deny’d my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. S. Name them. | Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle-

Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he|

woman ?

spends in tiring; the other, that at dinner they| What is the course and dilft of your compact ?
snould not drop in his porridge. | Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time.

Int. S. You houtd all this time have proved} .#nt. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very
there is no time for all things. words

Dro. S. Marry, and did, sr;
to recover hair lost by nature.

Ant. S. But your reason » as not substantial,
why there is no time to recove

namely, no time|
|
j
|
|

Dro. S. Thus I mend it: ‘ime himself is bald,| Unless it be by inspiration

Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
Dro. S. never spake with her in all my life.
“int. S. How can she thus then call us by our
names, ;

ail therefore, to the world’s end, will have bald| 4dr. How ill agrees it with your gravity,

ivilowers.
“Int. S. I knew, ’twould be 2 bald conclusion:
But soft! who wafts' us yonde-?

Enter Adriana and I uciana.

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, |vok strange, and
frown ;
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspécts,
{ 2m not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou unurg’d would’st
vow,

‘hat never words were music to thine ear,
Tiuat never object pleasing in thine eye,
‘bat never touch well-welcome to thy hand,
‘hat never meat sweet-savour’d in thy taste,
('nless I spake, look’d, touch’d, or carv’d to thee.
lLow comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it,
hat thou art then estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
‘That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self’s better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ;
For know, my love, as easy may’st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition, or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Should’st thou but hear I were licentious ;
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate!

ould’st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,

(1) Beckons, (2) Unfertile,

   

| To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,

|Abetting him to thwart me in my mood!

|Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,

| But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.

|\Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine :

|Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine;

| Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,

|Makes me with thy strength to communicate :

\If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,

Usurping ivy, briar, or idle? moss ;

| Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion

(Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.

“int. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for

her theme:

What, was I married to her in my dream?

‘Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?

What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ?

Until I know this sure uncertainty,

I'll entertain the offer’d fallacy. ~
Luc. Dromio, go bil the servants spread for

dinner.
Dro. S. OQ, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner,

This is the fairy land ;—QO, spite of spites !—

We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites .

If we obey them not, this will ensue,

They’ll suck our breath, o1 pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat’st thou to thyself, and answer’st

not ?

Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
Dro. S. 1am transform’d, master, am not I?
Int. S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I.
Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my

shape.
“Int. S. Thou hast thine own form.
Dro. S, No, T am an ape,

|Seone f,

Lue,

COMEDY

If thou art chang'd to atight, ’tis to an ass.
Dro. 8. ’Tis true; she rides me, and I long for}
grass,

Tis so, | am an ass ; else ut could never be

But I should know her as we ll as she k nows me,
“ldr. Come, come. no longer will I be a fool,

‘To put the finger in the eye and weep,

Whilst man, and masts , laugh my woes to

Come, sir, to dinne Uromio, kee p the g

Hush: and, I’}) dine With you to-day,

' °
wic .-—

above

Scorn.

And ee ' you of a thousand idle prank
Sirrah, if any ask you lor your master,
Say, he din s forth, and let no creature enter.—
Come, sister :—Dromio, play the porter well
“int. S. Am Lin earth, in heaven, or in hell?
Sle ping, or waking ? mad, or well-advis’d ?
Known unto these, and to myst lf diseuis’d !
Pils ~Y aS [hey say, an I ‘podee ver S80,
And in this mist at i! idventt ures £0.
Dro. S. Maste: it] rter at the cate . a
eldr, Ay; and or no enter, lest | break your
pp Lit
Luc. Cou I Ant ph lus, we dine too late.
| Eeunt.
-- «f-
4 oe eae ie
SCENE [.—The same. Enter Antipholus «
Ephesus, Dromio of Ephesus, Angelo, and Bal-
tnazar.
Int. E. Good signior A lo, you must excu
na nil.
My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hou
oay t i | lin d wi t ¥O snop,
To e the makine ol <
And that to-mo } ou wiil | it nome
But e’s a Villain, t ld fe ' lown
l { *met me ont i I h Li | i }
A nd cl a him li nd wy ks in ) d .
And that I did yomy nad hou ini
yy j i i i - , oe
Phou Ihara, ft ) qdiast thou mean dj
4} 2 ;
this |
Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what
| kn Ww :
That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to
Sj)OW
If the skin were parchment, and the bio ou
re inl
rave We it
Your own hand-writing would tell you what I think.
Ani, E. I thin! , NOU art iN ass.
Dro. Lx ‘larry, so it doth appear
By the wrongs I sul nad the lows | bear.
l h utd Ki K, Lye ine K c! 1 ; ou :. | ne al th { pas ‘
You would keep from m ec! id beware of an
iss,
Ant. E. You are l, si7nio lthazar Pray
God, our chi
May answer my good will, and your good welcome
here.
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and you
welcome dear.
/int. E. O, signior Balthazar, eithe t flesh ou
fish, : j i on ante ee 10 dainty
A table full of welcome makes scarce one daint'
dish.
ey a bel
Ral. Good meat, sir, is common; that every |
churl affords. . a
Ant. E. And weleome more common; for that’s

nothing but words

(2) A necklace strung with pearls.
(4) Rlockhead, (5) Kool,

(1) Absolve.
(3) Dishes of meat

T)

  
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
     
    
    
  
 
  
   
   
   
     
    
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
    
      
   
 
     
  
    
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
 
 
    
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
 

tT

dh I .R RORS,

807

Bal. Small cheer, and areal weleome, makes a
me rry fe ae

Ay, to a

sparing guest:

But thoug h my cates* be mean, take them in good

}

int, E. niggardly host, and more

ps Yi:
| Better cheer may you have, but not with better
heart,
But, soft: my door is lock’ d; Go bid them let us in.
Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, "Marian, Cicely, Gil-
lis in, Jen?
Dro. S (Wy ithin. ] Mome,* malt-horse, capon,

coxcomb, idiot, patch !5
her ret thee from the door, or sit down at the
hatch:

\Do: t thou e onjure for wenches, that thou call’st for
such store,

rs
eit

When one is one too many ! } Go, get thee from the
door.
Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? My
master stays in the street.
Dro. S. Let him walk (rom whence he came,

lest he catch cold on’s feet.
“Int. EZ. Who talks within there? ho, open the

door.

Dro. S. Right, sir, Pll tell you when, an you'll
tell me where fore,

lit. £. Wherefore? for my dinner ; I have not
din’d to-day.

Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not; come
again, when you may.

Int. E, What art thou, that keep’st me out from
the house I owe?

Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my
hame is Dromio,

Dro. E£. O villain, thou hast stolen both mine of-

lice and my name;

The one ne’er got me credit, the other mickle
1]
‘ Aane

If thou had’st been Dromio to-d: iy in my place,
ou would’st have chang’d thy face for a name,
or thy name for an ass,

Luce. | Within.] What a coil’ is there ? Dromio,

who are those at the gate ?

i’. Let my master in, Luce.
Luce. Faith, no; he comes

And so tell your master.
Dro. E.

bi ivc

Dro.
s too late;

O Lord, I must laugh :—

at you with a proverb,—Shall I set in my
staff?

e. Have at you with another:
can you tell ?

Dio. S. If thy name be call’d Luce, Luce, thou

hast answer’d him well,

I’. Do you hear, you minion ?

in, | hope?

Fuce. I thought to have ask’d you.

Dro. S. And you said, no.

Dro. E. come, help; well struck; there

was blow for blow.
‘ Thou bageage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whose

that’s,—When ?

Ant,

you'll let us

a
OO,

sake ?

Dro. FE. Master, knock the door hard.

Luce. Let him knock till it ache.

int. E. Yowll ery for this, minion, if I beat the
door down.

Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks
in the town ?

Adr. [Vithin.] Who is that at the door, that

keeps all this noise ? : ’
Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with
unruly boys,

(C6) Town, am owner of, ) Bustle, tumult.

(7one ee a

= rea ecient ee mentee

 

ere

Sg RRR IIS aoe

Sere ne

Te NC a a Bc

U3 COMEDY OF ERRORS. Act Il.

 

Ant. BE. Are you there, wife? you might have|Pretty and witty; wild, and, yet too, gentle ;
come before. There will we dine: : this woman that I mean,
Adr. Your wife, sir knave? go, get you from|My wife (but, I protest, without desert, )
the door. Hath ofte ntime :s upbri Lided me withal ;
Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave|To her will we to dinner.—Get you home,
would go sore. And feteh the chain; by this,* I know, ’tis made :
Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome ;/ Bring it, I pray you, to the Pore upine :
we would fain have either. For there’s the house ; : that chain will I bestow
Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part’) (Be it for nothing but to spite my wit)
with neither. Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste :
Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid|Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
them welcome hither. I’ll knock elsewhere, to see if they’ll disdain me.
Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we] Ang. Dll meet you at that place, some hour
cannot get in. hence.
Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your} Ant. E. Do so: This jest shall cost me some
garments were thin. expense. [Eveunt.
Your cake here is warm within ; you stand here!
in the cold: SCENE II.—The same. Enter Luciana, and

Jt would make a man mad as a buck, to be so
bought and sold.?
Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, [’ll break ope| Lue. And may it be that you have — forgot

Antipholus of Syracuse.

the gate. | A husband’s office ? Shall, Antipholus, hate,
Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I’ll break|Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs® rot ?
your knave’s pate. | Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate ?
Dro. E. A man may break a word with you,/If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
sir: and words are but wind ; | Then, for her wealth’s sake, use her with more
Ay, and break it in your face, so he ‘break it not kindness:
behind. ‘Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth
Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking: Out} Muille your false love with some show of blind-
upon thee, hind! ness ;
Dro. E. Here’s too much, out upon thee! I/Let not my sister read it in your eye;
pray thee, let me in. | Be not thy tongue thy own shame’s orator ;
Dro. 8S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and|Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ;
fish Case e no fin. | Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger :
Ant. E. Well, Vil break in; Go borrow me a|Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ;
crow. | ‘Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ;
Dro. E. A crow without a feather; master,|Be secret-false: What need she be acqu: tinted ?
mean you so? | What simple thief brags of his own attaint ?
For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl] without a|’Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,
feather : | And let her read it in thy looks at board :
If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow|Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ;
together. | Ill deeds are doubled wit th an evil word,
Aint. E, Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron|Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
crow. | Being compact of credit,* that you love us ;

Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so; " Thou gh others have the arm, show us the sleeve;
Herein you war against your reputation, | We in your motion turn, and you may move us,
And draw within the compass of suspect IThe on gentle brother, get you in again ;

The unviolated honour of your wife. } Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife
Once this,—Your long experience of her wisdom, |’Tis holy sport to be a little vain,’

Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, | When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; | nt. S. Sweet mistress (what your name is else,
And doubt not, sir, that she will well excuse I know not,

Why at this time the doors are made’ against you.! Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,)

Be rul’d by me; depart in patience, |Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner : not, ; :

And, about evening, come yourself alone, | ‘Than ourearth’s wonder; more than earth divine.
To know the reason of this strange restraint. 'Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak ;
If by strong hand you offer to break in, | Lay ope n to my e -arthly gross conceit,

Now in the stirring passage of the day, Smother’d in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,

A vulgar comment will be made on it; The folded meaning of your word’s deceit.

And that suppos’d by the c ommon rout | Aoainst my soul’s pure truth why labour you,
Against your yet ungalled estimation, | ‘To make it wander in an unknown field ?

That may with foul intrusion enter in, Are you a god? would you create me new ?

And dwell upon your grave when you are dead: | Transform me then, and to your power P ll yield.
For slander lives upon succession ; |But if that I am I, then well I know,

 

For ever hous’ d, where it once ge t's posse ssion. Your wee ping sister is no wife of mine,
Ant, E. You have prevailed ; I will depart in|Nor to her bed no homage do I owe ;

’

quiet, | Far more, far more, to you do I decline.
And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. |O, train me ‘not, sweet merms aid,* with thy note,
I know a wench of exc elle nt discourse,— l‘o drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears ;
ie siren, for thyself, and I will dote :

1) Have part. (2) A proverbial phrase.
3) t, e. Made fast, (4) By this time.

: ) t, e. Being made altogether of credulity,
5) Love-springs are young plants or shoots of love,

(6
(7 Vai ain, is light of tongue, (8) Mermaid for Biren,Scene I.

Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie ;
And, in that glorious supposition, think
He gains by death, that hath such means to die Jee
Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink !
Luc. W hi it, are you mad. that you doreason so?
Ant. S. Not mad, but mated ;' how, I do not
know.
Lue, It is a fault that springeth from your eye
‘int. S. For gazing on your be ams, fair sun,
being by. ’
Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear
your sight.
“Int. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on
night,
Luc. Why call you me love?
Ant. S. Thy sister’s sister.
Luc. That’s my sister
Aint. 8S. : No;
It is thyself, mine own self’s better part :
Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim,
My sole earth’s heaven; and my heaven’s claim.
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be.
“Int. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life ;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
Give me thy hand.

call my sister so,

Luc. O, soft, sir, hold you still;
Pll fetch my sister, to get her good will.
[Exit Luc
enter, from the hon ntipholus of Ephesus
Enter, f { } ‘. | if Epl ,

Dromio nae Seronuse

“int. S., Why, how now, Dromio? where runn’st
thou so fast ?
Dro. S. Do you know me, sir?
I your man? am I myself?
“Int. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man,
thou art thyself,
Dro. S. lam an ass, | am a woman’s man, and
besides myself.
“int. S. What woman’s man? and how besides
thyself ?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to
that haunts me,

am I Dromio? am

awoman ; one that claims me, one
one that will have me

int. S. What claim lays she to thee ?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay!
to your horse : and she would have me as a beast:
not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but
that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim
to me.

Ant. S, What is she?

Dro. 8. A very reverent body; ay, such a one
as a man may not speak of, without he say, sit
reverence: I have but lean luc K I in the match, and
yet is she a wondrous fat marriag

int. S. How dost thou mean, a “fat marriage ?

Dro. S. Marry, sir, she’s the kit chen-wench, and
all grease; and I know not what use to put her to,
but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by|
her own light. I warrant, her rags, andthe t allow
in them, wil burn a Poland winter: if ie lives
till doomsday,
whole world.

int. S, What copper is she of ?

Dro. S. Swart,? like my shoe, but her face no-
thing like so clean baat: “For why ? she sweats, a
man mi ay go over shoes in the grime of it.

Int. That’s a fault that water will mend.

2) Swarthy.

_¢. Confounded. (2
(4) Affianced,

(1)t :
(3) Large ships,

she’ll burn a week longer than the |

COMEDY OF BRRORS. 309

Dro. 8. No,
not do it.

“int, S, What’s her name ?

Dro. S. Nell, sir ;—but her name and three
quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will
not measure her from hip to hip.

“int. S. Then she bears some breadth?

Dro. S. No longer from head to foot, than from
hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe ; I could
find out countries in her.

“Int. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland ?

Dro. S. M: irry, sir, in her buttocks ; I found it
out by the bogs.

“int. S. Where Scotland ?

Dro. S. 1 found it by the barrenness ; hard, in
the palm of the hand.

Ant. S. Where I'rance ?

Dro. S. In her forehead ;
making war against her hair,

“Int. S. Where England ?

Dro, S. 1 look’d for the chalky cliffs, but I could

ind no whiteness in them: but 1 guess it stood in
* r chin, by the salt rheum that ran between
I’rance and it.

“Int. S. Where Spain ?

Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not;
ier bre ath.

int. S. Where America, the Indies ?

Dro. S. QO, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embellish’d
with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their
rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent
whole armadas of carracks® to be ballast tat her nose.

“int. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ?

Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To con-
clude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me;
call’d me Dromio; swore, I was assur’d* to her;
told me what privy marks I had about me, as the
mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the
great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran
from her as a witch: and, I think, if my breast had
not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, she
had transform’d me to a curtail-dog, and made me
turn i’the wheel.

“Int. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road ;
And ifthe wind blow any way from shore,

I will not harbour in this town to-night.

If any bark put forth, come to the mart,

Where I will walk, till thou return to me.

If every one know us, and we know none,

’Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.

Dro. 8S. As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Edait.

Ant. S. There’s none but witches do inhabit here ;
And therefore, ’tis high time that I were hence.
She, that doth call me husband, even my soul

sir, ‘tis in grain ; Noah’s flood could

arm’d and reverted,

but I felt it, hot in

.. Doth for a wife abher: but her fair sister,

Possess’d with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:

But, lest myself be guilty to self-wron

I'll stop mine ears against the mermaic s song.

Enter Angelo.

“Ine. Master Antipholus ?
Int. S. Ay, that’s my name.
Ang. I know it we ll, sir: Lo, here is the chain ;
I thought to have ta’en you at the ree :
The chain unfinish’d made me stay thus long.
Ant. S. What is your will, that I shall do with
this ?
Ang. What “please yourself, sir; I have made
it for you.

(5) A turn-spit.

    
    
 
    
   
     
        
   
   
   
    
  
  
    
  
  
     
      
     
   
   
     
     
    
     
      
    
   
    
    
  
  
 
   
  
    
  
  
    
   
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   

 

Bi ae ee ee een310 COMEDY OU
Ant. S. Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not.
Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you
. have :
, Go home with it, and please your wife withal ;
Hilt ts And soon at supper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my money for the chain.

: ee Bmw

 

I promised your presence, and the chain ;
But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me:
Belike, you thought our love would last too long,
If it were chain’d together; and therefore came not.
Ang.
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat ;
The fineness of the gold, and ch: rge ‘ful fashion ;
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more
Than I stand debted to this gentleman ;

J pray you, see him prese ntly dischare’d,

For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.

money ;
Besides, I have some business in the town:
Good signior, take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof ;
Perchance, I will® be there as soon as you.

(1) A coin, (3) I shall.

ee a

(2) Accruing,

 

i, Ge Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now ;|
i For fear you ne’cr see chi lin, nor money, more.
bis | Ang. You are a merry it hr: fare you well.
i [ Exit. |
i Ant. 8, What I should think of this, T cannot tell ;
fi. But this I think, there’s no man Is so Vi ain,
i That would refuse so fair an nite r’d chain.
Ef I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
- When in the streets he meets such colde n gifts.
Fi ll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay ;
{ If any ship put out, then straight away. [ Exit. |
i
pe nie

¥ i

yi ACT lV.

Dro. E. Ibuy a thousand pound a year! I buy
a rope! [Exit Dromio.
Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to|

you:

Saving your merr y humour, here’s the note,

Ant. E. 1 am not furnish’d with the present) The :

   

 

F ERRORS. Act Il.
| Anz. Then you will bring the enain to her your-
self?
| Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not
time enough.
Ang. Well, sir, l will: Have you the chain about
| you?
Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have;
|Or else you may return without your ROCHEY.
| Ang. Nay, come, | pray you, sir, give me the
chain:
Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman,
| And I, to blame, have held him here too long.
| Ant. E. Good ok you use this dalliance to
eXcuse

to the Poreupine:

Your breach of promise

I should have chid you for not bringing it,
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
| Mer. The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, des-
| patch.
Ang. You hear, how he impdértunes me; the
chain—

Ant. E. Why, give it te my wife, and fetch your

| SCENE I.—The same. Enter a Merchant, An-| money. ;
> gelo, and an Ofiicer. “Ing. Come, eee i gave it you
a | Cyven now .*
th Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due,| Either send the chain, or send me by some token.
a And since I have not much importun’d you ; “nt. E. Fie! now you run this humour out of
a | Nor now I had not, but that I am bound breath :
at To Persia, and w ant guilders! for my voyag Come, where’s the chain? I pray you let me see it.
Therefore make present satisfac lion, Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance ;
e Or V’ll attach you by this oflice |Good sir, say, whe’r you'll answer me, or no;
Wi Ang. Even just the sum, thi it I do owe to you, (If not, I’ Ml leave him to the officer.
p Is growing? to me by Antipholus : | Ant. E. I answer you! What should I answer
¥ And, in the instant that I met with you, vou ? :
(it He had of me a chain ; at five o’cloc k, | ng. The money, that you owe me for the chain.
I shall receive the money for the same: | dnt. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain,
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, | Ane. You know, I gave it you half an hour since.
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too, | Ant. E. You gave me salen you wrong me much
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, and Dromio of | 4,,, You ron tee ee ee
Ephesus. i ng ou wrong me more, sir, In denying it:
|Consider, how it stands upon my credit.
Off. That labour may you save; see where he} Ver. Weil, ofhee r, arrest him at my suit.
comes. | Off. Ido; and charge you in the duke’s name,
i Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith’s house, go| to obey me
thou ~ | Ang. Tits touches me in reputation —
And buy a rope’s end ; that will I hestow | Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Among my wife and her confederate . }Or I attach you by this ofhicer.
For locking me out of my doors by d: Ly. — “Int. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had'
But soft, I see the goldsmith :—get thee rone ; Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar’st.
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. | Ang. Here is thy fee ;’ arrest him, officer ;

{ would not spare my brother in this case,

If he should scorn me so apparently.

. Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit.

| dint. E£. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail :—
| But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear

j}As all the metal in your shop will answer.

| Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
l‘o your noterious shame, I doubt it not.

; , :

| Enter Dromio of Syracuse,

Dro. S. Master, there is
That stays but till her
bears aw
vid aboard :

a bark of Epidamnum,
owner comes aboard,
ay: our fraughtage,

And then, sir, 5 sir,

iI have conve and I have bought
Ihe oil, th: balentirtiny and aqua-vitea.
ship isin her trim; the merry wind
B low ; fair from land: they stay for nought at all,
But for their owner, master, and yourself,
Int. E. low now? a madman! Why thou

pecy ie sheep,

What s ae of Epidamnum stays for me
Dro. S. A shi » you sent me to, to hire waftage.*
(4) Freight, cargo.

(5) Silly, (6) Carriage.Scene I, lI. COMEDY UF ERRORS, 311

“int. E. Thou drunken slave, { sent thee for a' ‘One, whose hard heart is button’d up with steel ;
rope ; 1A fie nd, a fairy, pitiless and rough ;
And told thee’ to what purpose ang what c nd. A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; .
Dro. S. You sent me, sir, for a rope’s end as/A back- friend, a shoulder- clapper, one that coune
: soon : termands
You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. |The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ;
“nt. E. I will debate this matter at more lei isure,/A hound that runs counter r, and yet draws dry- foot

And te yo ears to listen with more heed, well;
To Adria villain, hi » thee straight: One that, befi fore the judgment, earries poor souls
Give he r this Key, ane Bg . 7 desk bn hell.®
Phat’s cover’d o’er with Turkish ta stry, | dr, Why, man, what is the matter ?
Phere is a purse of duc nits : let her send it; | Dro. S. I do not know the matter: he is ’rested
Tell her, I am arrested in the stres c. ; on the case.
And that shall bail me: hie thee, slave: be cone.| dr. What, is he arrested? tell me, at whose suit.
Un, ofiicer, to prison till it come. | iro, 854 know not at whose suit he is arrested,
|£reunt Mer, ang. OW. and Ant. E. | well;
Dro. 8. To Adi jana! tha where he din’d, But he’s in & suit of buff, which ’rested him, that
Where Dowsabel did claim me fe r her Waband : can I tell:
She is too big, J hope, for me to compass. Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the mo-
Thither I must, althouch arcainst my will, ney in the desk?
For servants must their masters’ minds fulfil. [Ex.| Adr. Go fetch it, sister.—This I wonder at,
a , - Exit Luciana.
SCENE I.—Th a Enter Adriana and That he, unknown to me, should be in debt:
Luciana |‘Tell me, was he arrested on a band 2?’
Adi Ah, ] cial lhe tempt t | | Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing;
Mi t thou perceive austerely in his eye \ chain, a chain; do you not hear it ring ?
That he did plead in irnest, yea cr no? dr. What, the chain ?
Look’ or red, or pale; or sad, or merrily? Dro. S. No, no, the bell: ’tis time, that I were
er Rinleetieeatinn cenit t thou in this case, cone,
Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face ?! it was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes
Lue. First, he denied you had in him no richt. one.
~idr, He meant, he did me none; the more my| .4dr. The hours: ome back! that did I never hecr.
spite. : Dro. S. O yes if any hour meet a sergea..\,
Luc. Then swore he, that he was a stranger here. a’turns back for very fear.
/Idr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn| .fdr. As if time were in debt! how fondly dost
he were, thou reasc :!
Luc. Then pleaded I for vou. Dro. S. Time is < very bankrupt, and owes more
Adr. ~ And what said he? than he’s v orth to season.
L uc. That love I begg’d for you, he begg’d of me.}| Nay, he’s a thief too: Have you not heard mens ‘y,
dr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy/That time comes stc ling on by night and day?
love? - [If he be in debt, and ‘ seft, and a sergeant in the way,
Luc. With words, that in an honest suit mieht| Hath he not reason o turn back an hour ina day 7
- Move. - ao Enter Luciana.
First he did praise mm beaufy ; tiieake DAY ecen,
Adr. Did’st speak him fair? rae Idr. Go, Dromio; there’s the money, bear it
Luc. : Have patience, I beseech. straight ;
dr. 1 cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ; And bring thy moster home immediately.—
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.| Come, sister; 1 am press’d down with conceit ;*
He is deformed, crooked. old. and sere,? Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt.
‘ i } 4 . rchperna «
Ill-fac’d, worse-bodied, BADESESE CVELY WOETS ; SCENE III.—The same. Enter Antipholus of
Vicious, ungentie, foo! manny CHANARADy WOPLSIE CS Syracuse.
Stigmatic eal in making? w e in mind. :
Luc. Who would-be jealous then of sucha one?| nt. S. There’s not a man I meet, but doth
No i vil | si is V Lil’d whe nit! ne, salute me

Adr. Ah! but I think him better than Is As if I were their we '!-acquainted friend ;
And yet would herein « othe rs’ eves were worse :| And every one doth call me by my name.

Far from her nest the lapwing cries away ;4 Some tender money t: me, some invite me;
Mv heart prays for him, though my toneue do| Some other give me t inks for kindnesses ;
4" Some offer me comm ities to buy:
Even now a tailor eas: d me in his shop,
Enter Dromio ef Syracu (nd show’d me silks that he had bought for me,
Dro. S. Here, co; the desk, the purse; sweet) And, therewithal, took n measure of my body,
now. make haste. Sure, these are but imainary wiles,
Lue. How hast thou lost thy breatl f And Lapland sorcerers 1 nhabit here.
Dro. 8. .* 28 a : Enter Dromio of Syracuse.
dr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well! : :

‘ | | } } Hee . ‘ r he ? > f : .
Dro. S. No, he’s in tartar limbo, worse than hell: Dro. S. Master, herc’s the gold you sent me for:
'What, have you got the picture of old Adam new
lapparell’d ?
|

A devil in an ¢€ veriasting garment bath him,

. | } . P tha »t 1. oe
' An allusion to the redness of the northern ao
A 1e appearance of armies | (5) The officers in tho se days were clad in buff,
ligh ts likened to th appearance Ol arnmuecs, |
(2) Dry, withered. | Wy a h is also a cant ex; “ession for a man’s skin,
(3) Mirek ed by nature with deformity. a 6) Hell was the can te rm for eae
; “, ae . : > e} 7 2 . / da .
(4) Who crieth most where her nest 1s not, (7) t. e. Bond. (€) Fanciful conception,- eee hada ee x

 

 
    
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
    
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
        

312 COMEDY OF ERRORS.

Ant. S. What gold is this? what Adam dost
thou mean ?
Dro. S. Not that Adam, that kept the paradise,

Act IP.

Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock: Mistress,
that youknow. [Laeunt Ant. and Dro.
Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad,

but that Adam, that keeps the prison: he that goes| Else would he never so demean himself :

in the calf’s-skin that was kill’d for the prodigal ;|
he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel,| !
|Both one, and other, he denies me now.
|The reason that I gather he is mad,

and bid you forsake your liberty.
Ant. S. I understand thee not.

Dro. S. No? why, ’tis a plain case: he that went}
like a base-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir, |

that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob,
and ’rests them: he, sir, that takes pity on decayed

A ring he hath of mine, worth forty ducats,
And for the same he promis’d me a chain!

(Besides this present instance of his rage,)

Is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner,

Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.
Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits,

men, and gives them suits of durance ; he that sets}On purpose shut the doors against his way.

up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than} My way is now, to hie home to his house,

a morris-pike.

Ant. S. What! thou mean’st an oflicer ?

Dro, S. Ay, sir, the sergeant ‘of the band; he,
that brings any man to answer it, that breaks his|
band: one that thinks a man always going to bed, |
and says, God give you good rest,

Ant, S. Well, sir, there rest in your fools ry. Is
there any ship puts forth to-night?

Dro. 8S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour
since, that the bark Expedition put forth to-night ;
and then were you hindered by the
tarry for the hoy, Delay: Here are the angels that
you sent for, to deliver you.

Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I;
And here we wander in illusions ;

Some blessed power deliver us from hene«

sergeant, to

!

Enter a Courtezan.
Cour. Well met, well met, master Antipholus.
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now ;

Is that the chain, you promis’d me to-day ?
Ant. S. Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me|
not!
Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan ?
Ant. S. It is the devil.
Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil’s dam |
and here she comes in the habit of a light wench;| 1
and thereof comes, that the wenches say, God|am
damn me, that’s as much as to say, God make me
a light wench. It is written, they appear to men

1

fire will burn; ergo, light wench
Come not near her.
Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry,
sir. "a
Will you go with me? We’ll mend our dinner here.
Dro. S. Master, if you do expect
bespeak a long spoon.
Ant. S. Why, Dromio ?
Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon,
that must eat with the devil.
Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend! what tell’st thou m«
of supping ?
Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress :
I cénjure thee to leave me, and be gone.
Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at
dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis’d ;
And Pll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Dro. S. Some devils ask but the paring of one’s|
nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone: but she, more covetous,
Would have a chain. |
Master, be wise; and if you give it her,
The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it. |
}

ljike angels of light: light is an eftect of fire, and
} } i
hea + 7

pooa-m at.

Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain ;
I hope, you do not mean to cheat me so.
Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, |

let us go.

may we be gone? |
= Tr

lmight novl

icools me with beatine:

And tell his wife, that, being lunatic,

‘tie rush’d into my house, and took perforce

My ring away: This course I fittest choose ;
or forty ducats is too much to lose. [ Exit.

SCENE IV.—The same. Enter Antipholus of
Ephesus, and an Officer.

int. E. Fear me not, man, I will not break away ;

Ill give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money

To warrant thee, as I am ’rested for.

My wife is in a wayward mood to-day ;

\nd will not lightly trust the messenger,

That I should Le attach’d in Ephesus:

i tell you, *twill sound harshly in her ears.—

Enter Dromio of Ephesus, with a rope’s end.

Here comes my man; I think, he brings the money.

iLiow now, sir? have you that I sent you for?
Dro. E, Were’s that, I warrant you, will pay
Lnem all.}
int. . But where’s the money ?
Dro. EZ. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.
int. EF. Five hundred duecats, villain, for a rope?

Dro. £. Vilserve you, sir, five hundred at the rate,
/int. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee
he rit |

Dr E. To rope’s end, sir; and to that end
ni Url

Int. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome

i { Beating him,
OF. Good sir. } tient

Ting 7 Nay, *tis for me to be patient; I am
| ive y.

Of G i now, hold thy tongue.

Dro. £. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his
int. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain !

Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I
feel your blows.

/Int. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows,
and SO 1S an ass,

Dro. E. lam an ass, indeed: you may prove it
by n y | ong ears, [ have serv’d him from the hour
of nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his
s for my service, but blows: when I am cold
me with beating: when I am w arm, he
I am waked with it, when
raised with it, when I sit; driven out of
d ors with it, when I go from home; welcomed
home with it, when [ return: nay, I bear it on my
shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think.
when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from

I sleep :
D;

idoor to door.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, and the Courtezan, with
Pinch, and others.

yy ‘ . . .
Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coming
yonder.

(1) Correct them all,Scene IV.

Dro, E. Mistress, respice finem, respect yi
or rather the prophecy, like the parrot

end ;
ware the rope’s end,

Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk ?

COMEDY OF ERRORS. 313

‘| Know it by their pale and deadly looks :

. Be- They must be bound, and laid in some dark room.
Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth
| Beats him. to -day,

Cour. How say you now? is not your husband| And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?

mad ? dr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth,
4dr. His incivility confirms no less.— Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv’d no gold ;
Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjur rs But I confess, sir, that we were lock’d out.
Establish him in his true ss nse again, vldr. Dissembling villain, thou speak’st false in
And I will please you what you will demand. both,
Luc. Alas, how fiery and he yw sharp he looks! Int. E, Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all;
Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his eestasy ! And art confederate with a damned pack,

Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your| To make a | pH

abject scorn of me:

pulse But with thes ‘ale V i plugk out these false eyes,
“Int. E. There is my hand, and let it feel your|That would b hol | in me this shameful sport.
ear, {Pinch and his a ststenis bind Ant. and Dro,
Pinch. | charge thee, Satan, hous’d within this} «2dr. O, bind him, bind him, let him not come
man, near m
To yield possession to my holy prayers, Pinch. More company;—the fiend is strong
And to tl hy state of darkness hie thee straight within him.
I cénjure thee by all the saints in heaven. Luc. Ah me, poor man, how pale and wan he
“Int, E. Peace, doting wizard, peace ; I am not looks !
mad. | nt. E. Wheat, will you murder me? Thou
-Idr, O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul ! gaoler, thou,
“int. E. You minion you, are these your cus-|I am thy prisoner; wilt thou suffer them
tomers ? l‘o make a rescue ?
Did this companion' with a saffron face Off. Masters, let him go;
Revel and feast it at my hodse to-day, He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut, Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantie too.
And I denied to enter in my house ? ’ ldr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish® officer?
“ldr. O, husband, God doth know, you din’d at) Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
home, Do out ; nd displeasure Lo himself ?
Where ’would you had remain’d until this time, Off. He is my prison 1 let him go,
Free from these slanders, and this open shame! The debt he owes will be requir’d of me.
Ant. E. 1 din’d at home! Thou villain, what! 2dr. I will discharge thee, ere I go from thee:
say’st thou? Bear me forthwith unto his creditor,
Dro. E. Sir, soothto say, vou did notdine athome. | And, kno. how the debt grows, I will pay it.
Jnt. E. Were not my doors lock’d up, and I}Good master doctor, see him safe convey’d
shut out? Home to my house.—O most unhappy day !
Dro. E. Perdy,? your doors were lock’d, and| dnt. £. O most ippy® strumpet !
you shut out. l E. M » Jel re enter’d in bond for
Aint. E. And lid not she | i vil | ’ .
Dr 7 sfable.3 sh int. E. Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost
An » Ee Did Kal - ti
and scorn mi Dro. E. Will you be nd for nothing? be mad,
Dro. E. Certes,* she did; t kitchen-1 1; Good 1 ; ery, the devil,—
ecorn’d you. Luc. God help, poor s , how idly do they talk,
Ant. FE. And did not lin rage depart from thence?| ddr. Go, bear him hence.—Sister, go you with
Dro. E. In veri yY you did s—iIny bones ear me.—

WILDESS,

'

That since have fe!t the

Ade. Is’t good to soot
Pinch. It is no shame

Ant. E. Thou hast
arrest me.

Adr. Alas, | sent vou

[Ewe. Pinch and assistants, with Ant. and Dro.

virour of his rage. Say now, whose suit is he arrested at?

h him in these contraries ? Off. One Angelo, a goldsmith; Do you know him?
the fellow finds his vein,| 4dr. I know the man: Whatis the sum he owes?
And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy. Off. Two hundred ducats.
; suborn’d the goldsmith to| 4dr. Say, how grows it due?
Off. Due for a chain, your husband had of him.
money toredeem you, | 4dr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it
ame in haste for it. not.

By Dromio here, w! 7: c
Dro. E. Money by
you might :
But, sure ly, master , not
Ant. E. Went’st not

ducats /

Adr. He came to me,
Tuc. And I am witness with her,
the rope-ma

Dro. E. God and

witness,

That I was sent for nothing but a rope
Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is pos-| we.

sess’d ;

) Fellow.

(1 ;
(2) A corruption of the French oath—par dieu.
(3

Without a fable.

ne? heart and eg \od-will Cour. When as your eae all in rage, to-day

, Came to my house, and took away my ring,
a rag of money. The ring I saw upon his finger now,)
thou to her for a purse of) Straight after, did I meet him with a chain,

ldr. It may be so, but I did never see it :—

and I deliver’d it. Come, caoler, bring me where the voldsmith is,
hat she did. |I long to know the truth hereof at large.
ker bear me

I {

Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, with his rapier

drawn, and Dromio of Syracuse.

God, for thy mercy! they are loose again.

Adr. And come with naked swords ; let’s call
more help,

(5) Foolish.

(4) Certainly. (6) Unhappy for ia i, €, mischievous,swan lesen te cy tees Sos

314 COMEDY OF ERRORS, Act V.

To have them bound again. Enter the Abbess.

Off. Away, they'll kill us. | ‘et. people: Wherefore .
ahaa oe Ade. an ~ Abb. ee mel, people ; erefore throng you

Ant, _ we’ mt oe are afraid of swords.) agp. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence ;
Dro. e, that would be your wile, now ran/y et ys come in, that we may bind him fast,

ge sate ee - fetel tuff |. And bear him home for his recovery,
s a
“Ant. ome to the Centaur ; fetch our stu Ang. I knew, he was not in his perfect wits.

from thence: Wer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on him.

        

 

ye Os . | ar . .

T long, that we were safe and sound aboard. 16b. How long hath this possession held the
Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will man? °-

° , saw. they sneak us fair ce

surely do be oe harm 5 Ee hey they sp eak us at Adr. This week he hath beert heavy, sour, sad,
Yy , rs ‘ ‘

Fa the t, 1 tv “ ‘8, they are sucn | aeeh gentle And much, much different from the man he’ Was ;
nation, that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that sut, till aa aftprne yon, his passion

— itil - eat l ere find in my he drt to Ne? r brake into extre mity of rage.
stay here still, and turn witch : ‘Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at
Ant. S. I will not s! ay to-night for all the town: sea ? r
erefore ¢ ray cel » gt fT 4] ard Jan > 5 E :
Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. [Exe.| Bury’d some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye
Stray’d his aflec tion in unlawful love ?
—~ <> ;
\ sin, prevailing much in youthful men,
hoy Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
BUi YY, \V hich of these sorrows is he subject to?
ee Idr. To none of these, except it be the last:
SCEN Le L—The satme,. Enter Wii rehant and Name ly, some love, that drew him olt from home.

Lae

j r¢ ln i , ‘i 7 eae ‘ .
Angelo. bb. You should for that have reprehended him.
q I * +} ‘ T ] ys 7 ) off le VN hy, 50 ] did.
Jng, 1 aM Sorry, sir, that 2k nave hinder’a you; Lb} : .
g um ry, sir, that [ have | ; Abb. Ay, but not rough enough.
But, I protest, he had the chain of me, liv, As roughly, as my y modesty would let me
° ® aa fe hi a a i oy - a
Though most dishonestly he doth denv it. sty. te Mo Py si
= ‘ : . : ose sh e400, LLOAP) , 1 privat
Mer. How is the man esteem’d here in the city 4. : And in assemblies too
Ang. ak reverend reputation, sir, 1bb. Ay, but notenough. = —«*™” oh i
Of credit infinite, highly bel: yw'd, | Aden ¥en thh wire’ Al ave
Sunil tame nk ives here th the city: dr. It was the copy* of our conference :
: Se ee ee ale CI 5 In bed, he slept not for my urging it:

]
ror r er VY wen ; . ,
His word might bear my At board, he fed not for my urging it;

Mer. Speaks so . mder, as I think, he walks .

Ler pe ak sof 1 : y ncer, i l Hunk, Ne WaILKS. Alone, it was the ubject of my the me ;
In e pany I often glanced it :

. Sart ~ } : . CO eeucs ? : AS ;

Ht J moius and Dromyio of! acuse. - . ;

Enter Antipholus and Dromio ef Sy: Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

: Ly al 3 vs :
Ang. ’Tis so; and that sclf chain about his neck, * 0b. An } there of came it, thatthe man was mad:

Ww Thich: he forswore, most monstrously, to have. Che venom clamours of a jealous woman
Good sir, draw ne: ir to me, [ll spe ik to him. Poi on mM re ‘deadly than a mad dog’s tooth.
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much cr a sleeps were hindered by thy railing ;
That you would put me to this shame; and trouble ;| And th reot comes it that his head is light.
And not without some scandal to yi elf, (hou say’st his meat was sauc’d with thy upbraid-
With circumstance, and oaths, so ta o deny ings:
This chain, which now you wear so openly : Unqui t meals make ill digestions,
Besides the charge, the shame, mpeeapannt nt, thereot the raging fire of fever bred ;
You have done wrone to this my a est friend; | And what’s a fever but a fit of madness ?
Who, but for staying on our controversy, hou say’st, his sports were hinder’d | y thy brawls:
Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to- a ay: Siveet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue,
This chain you had of me, can you deny it? put mo ae and dull melancholy,

Ant. S. I think, I had; I never did deny it. \4kinsman LO 4 grim and comfortless de ‘Spair ;)

Mer. Yes, that you did, sir; and forswore it too. | And, at he r hes Is, a huge i infectious troop.
Ant, S. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it ?/Of pale distemperatures, ind foes to life ?
Mer. These ears of mine, thou knowest, did In 10 os, in sport, and life-preserving rest,
hear thee: I » be disturb’d, would mad or man, or beast ;
i

(
. ° . . am i ef COYNSPOlPr e +) y ; , aA » Hite
Fie on thee, wretch! ’tis pity, that thou liv’st he consequence is then, thy jealous fits

To walk where any honest men resort. [ave s cared thy hua) nd from the use of wits,
Ant. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me thus: |. Lue, She never reprehended him but mildly,
V’ll prove mine honour, and mine honesty, When ne deme aned himself rough, rude, and
Against thee presently, if thou dar’st stand. gts ahaa idly. —
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not?

ry lily a } .
[They draw.) «24r. She did bi tray me to my own reproof.—
nr

i
Goad peor le, enter, and lay ‘hold on him,

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, and others. No, not a creature enters in my house,

| fb
nine _| dr. Then, let your servants bring my husband
ldr. Wold, hurt him not, for God’s sake; he is| forth, pte:
‘ bee. | LT T nett 2 1
Some eae him,? take his sword away | sai shall aivite “ ian fore Soe ee a
A shall privilege him from your hands,

Bind Pano too, and bear them to my ries Till I have brought him to his wits again,
Dro. §. Run, master, run; for God’s sake, take/Or lose my labour in assay ing it,

29 3
a house. | Adr. I will attend my husba ind, be his nurse
This is some priory ;—In, or we are spoil’d. Diet his sickness, for itis my office, ’

| Exeunt Ant. and Dro. to the priory.|And will have no attorne y but myself ;

Sages (2) t. ¢ Close, grapple with him.| (3) i, e, Go into a house, (4) Theme,Scene I. COMEDY

And therefore let me have him home with me.
16. Be patient ; for I will not let him stir,
Till I have us’d the approved means I have,
With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
‘To make of him a formal man again :) ,
It is a branch and parcel? of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order:
Therefore depart, and leave him here with me,
-Idr. I will not hence and leave my husband
here :
And ill doth it beseem your holiness,
To separate the husband and the wife.
»/bb. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not hav
him. [| Eawit Abbess,
Jue, Complain unte the duke of this indignity.
ldr. Come, zo; I will fall prostrate at his feet
And never rise until my tears and prayers
Haye won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the abbess.
Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five:
Anon, I am sure, the duke himself in person
Comes this way to the melancholy vale,
The place of death and sorry? « xecution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.
“Ing. Upon what cause ? :
Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant
Who put unluckily into this bay
Against the laws and statutes of this tow n,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.
“ing. See, where they come * we will behold
death. ‘
Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the abbey.

? pak

Enter Duke atlended . /Erveon hare-he wed * apilh
the Headsman and other officers
Duke. Yet once again proclaim it public ly,
If any friend will pay the sum for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him.
dr. Justice, most sacred duke, avainst th
abbess !
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady:
It cannot be, that she hath done th rong.
“idr, May it please your grace, Antipholus, my
husband,—
Whom I made lord of me and all I had
At your important* letters,—this ill d
A most outrageous fit of madn ;
That desperately he hurried through the stre¢
(With him his bondman, all as mad «as he.)
Doing displeasure to the citizens
By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
Rings, jewels, any (hing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whilst to take order® for the wrongs | went,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot* not by what strong escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him;
And, with his mad attendant and himself,
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swort
Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
Chas’d us away; till raising of more aid,
We came again to bind them: then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we pursued them ;
And here the abbess shuts the gates on us,
And will not suffer us to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command,

5

Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for)

help.

i. e. To bring him back to his senses.

art. (3) Sad. (4) Importunate.
. To take measures. (6) Know.
. Successively, one after another,

OF ERRORS, 315

| Duke. Long since, thy husband serv’d me in
my wars ;

And I to thee engag’d a prince’s word,

When thou didst make him master of thy bed,

To do him all the grace and good I could.—

Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate,

And bid the lady abbess come to me;

{ will determine this, before I stir,

Enter «a Servant.

| Serv. O mistress, mistress, shiftand save yourself!
|My master and his man are both broken loose,
Beaten the maids a-row,’ and bound the doctor,
Whose beard they have singed off with brands of
lire;
(nd ever as it blazed, they threw on him
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair ;
\ly master preaches patience to him, while
His man with scissars nicks® him like a fool:
\nd, sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer,
ddr, Peace, fool, tuy master and his man are
here :
And that is false thou dost report to us,
Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true ;
{ have not breath’d almost, since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vows, if he ean take you,
To scorch your face, and to disficure you:
[Cry within,
Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress ; fly, be gone.
Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing; Guard
with halberds,
Idr. Ah me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible :
ven now we hous’d him in the abbey here ;

\nd now he’s there, past thought of human reason.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus.

“int. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant
me justice !

ven for the service that long since I did thee,

When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took

Deep scars to save thy life: even for the blood

ihat then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.

Hee. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,

i see my son Antipholus and Dromio.

‘Int. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that

woman there.

vhom thou gayv’st to me to be my wife;

That hath abused and dishonour’d me,

[ven in the strength and height of injury!

Beyond imagination is the wrong,

That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
Int. £. This day, great duke, she shut the doors

upon me,

While she with harlots® feasted in my house.
Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst

thou so? ;
Idr, No, my good lord ;—myself, he, and my

‘ sister,

|

‘To-day did dine together: So befall my soul,

\s this is false, he burdens me withal !

Luc, Ne’er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,

| But she tells to your highness simple truth!

Ing. O perjur’d woman! They are both for-

sworn,

[In this the madman justly chargeth them.
| Int, LE, My liege, I am advised what I say ;

(8) 7. e. Cuts his hair close.

| (9) Harlot was a term of reproach applied to
‘cheats among men as well as to wantons among
jwomen,

jorks

eo sare

     
 
    

 

eee cerca ae

316 COMEDY

Neither disturb’d with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash, provok’d with raging ire,
Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad.

This woman lock’d me out this d: Ly from dinner ;
were he not pack’d with her,

That goldsmith there,
Could witness it, for he ww: as with me then;
Who parted with me to ro le te] h a chain,
Promising to bring it to the Porcupine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine togcther.
Our dinner done, and he not coming r thither
I went to seek him: in the street I met him :
And in his company, that dntiemian:
There did this perjur’d
down,
That I this day of him receiy’d the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not:
He did arrest me with an officer.
I did obey ; and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats: he with none return’d.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,
To go in person with me to my house
By the way we met
My wife, her sister, and a rabble more

Of vile confederates: alone with them
They brought one Pinch; a hungry lean-fae’d vi!
lain,

A mere anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare juggler, and a foriune-teller :
A needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp-lookine wretch
A living dead man: this per: i ‘ious slave

Forsooth, took on him as a conjuror:

And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse

And with no face, as ’twere, outfacine me,

Cries out, I was possess’d: then all toecther

They fell upon me, bound me, bore me th

And in a dark and dankish vault at home

There left me and my man, both bound tozether:

Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,

I gain’d my freedom, and immediately

Ran hither to your grac e; whom I beseech

To give me ample satisfaction

For these deep shames and creat indignities.
Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with

him ;

That he dined not at home, but was lock ed out.
Duke. But had he such a eh: Lin of thee, or no?
Ing. He had, my lord ; and when he ran in here.

These people saw the chain abi but his neck
Mer. Besides, I will be

mine

Heard you confess you had the « hain of him,

After you first forswore it on the mart

And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you;

And then, you fle d into this abbey her

From whence, [ think, you are come by y mirac le.
Ant. E. I never came within these abbey walls,

Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me

I never saw the chain, so help me heaven!

And this is false, you pueaeD me withal.

Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this!

I think, you all have dr ink of Circe’s cup.

If here you hous’d him, here he would have been;

nee
id

)

sworn,

If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly :—
You say, he dine dat home ;
Denies that saving :—Sirrah, w ‘hat say you?
Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the
Porcupine.
Cour. He did ; and from my finger
that ring, '
Ant. E.’Tis true, mv liege. this ring T had of her.
Duke. Saw’st thou him enter at the abbey ne ‘e?
Cour. As sure, my Mates as I do see your grace.

the goldsmith here

snatch’d|

(1) Confounded. (2) Alteration of features, |

goldsmith swear me

for the which
)

these ears of

And which the spiri

  
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
    
    
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
    
  
  
 
  
    
      
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
    
     
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
  
  
   
   
   
 
   
    
   
   
    
  
     

OF ERRORS. Act V.
Duke. Why, this is strange :—Go call the abbess
hither :
I think you are ‘all mated,! or stark mad.
[Exit an attendant.
JEge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak
‘ a word ;
|Haply I see a friend will save my life,
And pay the sum that will deliver me.
| Duke: Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.
JE ve. Is not your ni ume, sir, call’d Antipholus ?
And ts not that your bondm: 1n Brome ?
Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir,
;But he, I thank him, gnaw’d in two my cords ;
Now am I Dr ‘omio, and his man, unbound,
F , you both of youremember me.

/ije@e. Tam sui
Dro. E. Ourselves we do reme -mber, sir, by you;
lor lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinch’s patient, are you, sir?
. Why look you strange on me? you know
me we I}.
/int. E. I never saw you in my life, till now.
JE ge. Oh! grief hath chang’d me, since you
saw me last:
ind careful hours, with Time ’s deformed hand,
Have written strange defeature’s? in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ?
Ne ither.

JE ce. Dromio, nor thou ?

Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor IJ.

JE ge, I am sure, thou dost.

Dro. E. Ay, sir? but Iam sure, | do not ; and
vhats

r @ man denies, you are now bound to

Hle Vi him.

/Eee, Not kno w my v¢ oice! O, time’ s extremity !

[last thou so erack’d and splitted my poor tongue,
[In seven short years, that here my only son
Knows not my feo! fe key of untun’ Sane |

Thouch now this eraine d? face of mine be hid
In sap-e onsumin y winter’s drizzled snow,
And all the e ond uits of my blood froze up;
et hath my nicht of life son 1@ memory,
ly wasting Jam) » some fading glimmer left,
ly ¢ hall cdi ears a little use to hear:
\ll these ld witnesses (I cannot err, )
Tell me, thou art my son Antir pholus,
int. F. [never saw my father in my life.
JE re. Br ul seven years since, in Syrae usa, boy
Thou know *st, we parted: but, perhi aps, my son,
Thou sham’st ‘he 0 acknowledge me in mise ry,
/int. E. The duke, and all that know me in the
city,
Can witn

,

‘ss with me that it is not so ;
[ ne’er saw Syracusa in my life,
Duke. 1 tell 4 ‘ Syracusan, twenty years
Have Ib en patron 1 to Antipholus,
During which time he e’er saw Syracusa
[ sec, thy age and dangers make thee dote.

bess, sth { . a
/1bb with Antipholus Syraet usan, and

Dromio Syracusan.

1b). Most mighty duke,
wrong’d,

Mdr, Tg e two husbands,

Duke. One of these me

And so of these:

behold a man mt ich
[.4ll cather to see him,
or mine eyes deceive me.
n is Genius to the other ;
Ww hich is the natural m: in,
Who dec Ip hers the m ?
Dro. S.1, sir, am Dromio + command him aw ay.
Dro. F. 1, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay.
/Int. S. 7Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghost ?
Dro. ‘' QO, m) old master! who hath bound him
ere
1b), Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,

(3) Furrowed, lined.Scene I.

And gain a husband by his liberty :—
Speak, old Ageon, if thou be’st the ma
That had’st a wife once call’d Amilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair son ce
QO, if thou be’st the same /E.geon, speak
And speak unto the same Aémilia!

VE ge. If] dream not, thou art mili)
If thou art she, tell me, where is that sen
That floated with thee on the fatal raft {

lbh. By men of Epidamnum, he, ul d i
And the twin Dromio, all were taken up ;
But, by and by rude fishermen of Corinth
By force took Dromio and my son from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamnum ;
What then became of them, I cannot tell:

I, to this fortune that you see me in.

Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right 37

These two Antipholus’s, these two so like,
And these two Dromio’s, one in semblance,—
Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,—
These are the parents to these children.
Which accidentally are met together.
Antipholus, thou cam’st from Corinth (rst.
“int. S. No, sir, notl; | came from Syracuse.
Duke. Stay, stand apart! I know 1 ot which is
which.
Ant. E. | came from Corinth, my mist gracious
lord, '
Dre. E. And I with him.
Ant. E. Brought to this town with that mos
famous warrior
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
Adr, Which of you two did dine with me to day
Ant, S. 1, gentle mistress.

Adr. And are not you my husband ?|

Ant. E. No, I say nay to that.

int. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so:
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister h«
Did call me brother:—W hat I told vou then,
I hope, I shall have leisure to make good ;
If this be not a dream, | see, and hear

i

.

ing. That is the chain, sir, whi h you had of me.

Anti. S. 1 think it be, sir; I deny it not.

Aut. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.

meg. IL think I did, sir; I deny it:

Adr. 1 sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
By Dromio; but I think he brought it not.

‘Dro. E. No, none by me.

nt. S. This purse of duc its ] rect iv’d from
And Dromio my man did bring them me
I see, we still did meet each other’s man,
And I was ta’en for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these Errors are aross

rd

Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here.

Duke. It shall not need, thy father hath his life.
Cour. Sir, 1 must have that diamond from you.
Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks fo:
my good cheer.
Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pain:
To go with us into the abbey here
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes :—

e

(1) The morning story is what AZ zeon tel thy
duke in the first scene of this vlav

COMEDY OF ERRORS. 317

And all that are assembled in this place,
That by this sympathized one day’s error
tlave sufler’d wrong, go, keep us company,
And we shall make full satisfaction.—
Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons; nor, till this present hour,

|My heavy burdens are deliver’d :—
| he duke, my husband, and my children both,
}And you the calendars of their nativity,

Go to a gossip’s feast, and go with me;
Alter so long grief, such nativity !
Duke. With all my heart, Pll gossip at this feast.
[Exewnt Duke, Abbess, AXgeon, Courtezan,
Merchant, Angelo, and alltendants,
Dro. S. Master, shall 1 fetch your stuff from
hipboard ?
int. £. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou
embark’d ?
Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the
Centaur.
Int. S. He speaks to me; I am your master,
Dromio:
Come, go with us: we'll look to that anon:
Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him.
[Exeunt Antipholus S. and E. Adr. and Luc.
Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master’s
hou Cc.
That kitehen’d me for you to-day at dinner ;
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.
Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not
my brother:

I see by you, I am a sweet-faced youth.

Will you walk in to see their gossiping ?

Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder.

Dro. E. That’s a question : how shall we try it?

Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior: till
then, lead thou first.

Dro. E. Nay, then thus:
We came into the world, like brother and brother ;
{nd now let’s go hand in hand, not one before
another. {| Exeunt.

“A

nee

Ona careful revision of the foregoing scenes, I
do not hesitate to pronounce them the composition
f two very unequal writers. Shakspeare had un-
doubtedly a share in them: but that the entire play
was no work of his, is an opinion which (as Bene-
fire cannot melt out of me; I will die in
it at the stake.’ Thus, as we are informed by Aulus
tiellius, Lib. HI. Cap. 8. some plays were abso-
lutely ascribed to Plautus, which in truth had only
been (retractate et expolite) retouched and polish-
ed by him.

In this comedy we find more intricacy ef plot
han distinetion of character; and our attention is
less forcibly eneaed, because we can guess in great

sure how the denouement will be brought
ibout. Yet the subject appears to have been
reluctantly dismissed, even in this last and unne-
essary scene: where the same mistakes are con-
tinued, till the power of affording entertainment

lis entirely lost. STEEVENS.

dict says) ~EN ae ee

elidel tien fettonn som

[es }

MACBETH.

 

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duncan, king of Scotland.
Malcolm,
Donalbain,
Macbeth
Banquo

Macduff,
\

his sons.
generals of the king’s army.

Lenox,
Rosse,
Menteth,
Angus,
Cathness,
Fleance, son to Banquo.

noblemen of Scotland.

Siward, earl of Northumberland, general of the

English forces.
Young Siward, his son.
Seyton, an officer attending on Macbeth.
Son to Macduff.

 

 

ra Say Wet ¢
SCENE I.—An onen place. Thunder and Li

ning, Enter three Witches.
1 Witch.

Wuen shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain ?
2 Witch, When the hurlyburly’s! done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun.
1 Witch, Where the place ?
2 Witch. Upon the heath.
3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.
1 Witch. 1 come, Graymalkin !
All, Paddock calls :—Anon,—
Fair is foul, and foul is fair :
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
[Witches vanish.
SCENE II.~—A Camp near Fores. Alarwm with-
in. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain,
Lenox, with attendants, mecting a bleeding Sol-
dier.

’
rjit-
S

Dun, What bloody man is that? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state,

Mal, This is the sergeant,
Who, like a good an@ hardy soldier, fought
’Gainst my captivity :——Hail, brave friend!
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil,

|.4n English Doctor. A Scolch Doctor.
1.4 Soldier. A Porter. An old Man.

Lady Macbeth.

| Lady Macduff.

|Gentlewoman altlending on lady Macbeth.
|| lecate, and three Witches.

|
|Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers

?
Altendants, and Messengers.

Lhe Ghost of Banquo, and several other Appari-
lions.

‘ : ,  .  ..

scene, in the end of the fourth acl, lies in Eng-
land; througrh the rest of the play, in Scotland,
and, chiefly, at Macbeth’s castle.

Do swarm upon him,) from the western isles

Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied :2

And fortune, on his damned quarrel? smiling,
Show’d like a rebel’s whore : But ali’s too we ak:
for brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name, )
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish’d steel,
Which smok’d with bloody exee ition,

Like valour’s minion,

Carv’d out his passage, till he fae’d the slave;
{nd ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix’d his head upon our battlements.

Dun. O, valiant cousin! worthy gentleman !
Sold. As whence the sun ’gins his reflexion

Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break ;
So from that spring, whence comfort see m’dtocome,
Discomfort* swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
No sooner justice had, with valour arm’d,
| Compe \l’d these skipping Kernes to trust their heels:
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,

With furbish’d arms, and new supplies of men,
| Began a fresh assault.

| Dun. Dismay’d not this
Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo ?
| Sold. Yes;

As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth,® I must report they were

|-As cannons overcharg’d with double cracks :
So they

| Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe ;

| Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
As thou didst leave it. }Or memorize another Golgotha,®
Sold, Doubtfully it stood [ cannot tell :——

As two spent swimmers, that do cling tegether,

And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald|

(Worthy to be a rebe! ; for, to that,
The multiplying villanies of nature

2} Tumult.

troops.

(3) Cause, <4) The opposite to comfort

t. €. Supplied with light and sisal (5) Truth.

But I am faint, my gashes ery for help.

Dun. So well thy words ‘become t
wounds: —

They smack of honour both -—Go,

reons,

hee, as thy

cet him sur-
[ Ewit Soldier, tillended,

(6) Make another Goleotha

. as memorable as the
irst,/_ Sepeaeeen hein Lt ee recs

 

 

Act I] T.— Scene 4.

 

 

 

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KING JOHN,
Act IT I.—Scene 4.

aisuamindeiiesmebiniicnSeone It,

Rnier Rossé;
Who coifies here ?

Mal. The worthy thane of Rosse

Len. What a haste looks through his eyes! So

should he look,
That seems to speak things strane

Rosse. God save the king
Dun. Whence cam’st thou, wort hy thane ?
Rosse. k’'rom Fife, great kine,
Where the Norweyan banners flout! th: sky,
And fan our er ople cold, ;

Norway himself, with terrible numbe rs,
Assisted by that most dis] i) il traitor

The thane hs wd yr, "gan a dismal conflict:
Till that Bellona’s bridegroom,? lapp’d in pri yf,
Contlronted bites with St elf-co1 nparis

Point againt point rebellious, arm ’gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit: And, to conclude,
The victory fell on us ;——
Dun. : Great happiness !
Rosse. That now

Swene, the Norways’ king, craves composition ;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes? inch
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall d
ceive
Our bosom interest :—Go, pronoun
And with his former till rreet Niacb
Rosse. [ll see it done.
Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth

       

won. | Exveunt.
SCENE ith. Thunder. Enter ti
three Witc/

1 Witch. Where L st thou been, sister ?
2 Witch. Killing sw
3 Witch. Sister, “where thou

1 Witch. A sailor’s wife had chesnuts in her lap
And mounc! oy and mounch’d, and mounch’d :——

Give meé , quoth I:

Aroint thee, rite! h! the rump-fed ronyon® cri
Her | husband’s to Al ppo gone, mast ro’the Tj
But in a sieve [ 7 thither sail,

And, like a rat without a tail,

Ill do, Pil do, and Pll do.
Witch. 1 il give thee a wind.
1 Witch, Thou art kind.
3 Witch. And I another.
1 Witch. I myself have all the other
And the very ports they blow,

{ll the quarters that they know
I’'the shipman’s c: ard. 6
I will drain him dry as hay
Sle p shall, neithe night nor day,

Hang upon his tase lid ;
He shall live a man forbid :”
Weary sev’n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss’d.
Look whatI have.
2 Witch. Show me, show me.
1 Witch. Here I have a pilot’: thumb,

4 { come.
Wreck’d, as homeward he did ec:

[Drum within. i

3 Witch. A drum, a drum ;
Macbeth doth come.

) Mock. (2) Shakspeare means Mars.
} Defended by armour of prool.

) Avaunt, begone.

} A scurvy woman fed on offals.

)

Sailor’s chart, (7) Accursed,

MACBETH, 349

| fil. The weird sisters,® hand if hand,
\P vale rs of the sea and land,

Thus do go about, about ;

Thrice to thine , and thrice to mine,
| And thri ice again, to make up nine!
Peace |—the charm’s wound up.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

Vacb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is’t call?’d to Fores ?—What are
tnese,
0 wither’d, and so wild in their attire ;
| That look not like the inhabitants o ‘the earth,
ind yet are on’t? Live you ? or are you aught
fiat man may question? You scem to understand
By each at once her choppy finger laying
nate u should be women,
\nd yet your beards forbid me to interpret
inat you are so.
Mach. Speak, if you can ;— What are you?
l Wiich. All hail, Mac beth! hail to thee, thane
} ro }

Upon her skinny lips

2 Wiich. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane

> Witch, All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king
] Lic
ben. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to
fear,
s that do sound so fair ?—I’the name of truth,
\re ye fantastical,® or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
You greet with p. ent er ce, and great prediction
i noble havin 10 and of royal hope,
hat he seems rapt! withal ; to me you speak not:
if u can lo k into the seeds of time,
And say, which erain wil | grow, and wh ich will not,
>peak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear,
Y our favours, nor your hate.
| Witeh. Hail!
> Wilch. Hail!
3 Witch. Hail!
1 Witch. Li r than Macbeth, and greater.
2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier,
3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be
non¢
So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo!

| Witch. B inquo, and Mae! beth, all hail!
aco. dt iy, you lmperl ee spe ake TS, tellmemore:
Sinel’s death, I kr now, I am thane of GI: Lmis ;
ut how of Cawdor? the thane of C awdor lives,
yrosperous gentleman; and to be king,
| Stands not within the prospect of belief

No more than to be Cawdur. Savy, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence?’ or why

Upon this blasted heath you stop ee way
|\With such prophetic greeting ?—Spea tk, I charge
you. (Ww itches vanish,
| Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has
| And these are of them :—Whither are they vanish’d ?
|  Macb. Into the air; and what seem’d corporal,
| melted
| As breath into the wind.—’ Would they had staid !
| Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak
about ?
)r have we eaten of the insane root,!2
That takes the reason prisoner ?
Mach. Your children shall be kings.

Ban. You shall be king,

(8) Prophetic sisters.

(9) Supernatural, spiritual. (10) Estate,
(11) Rapturously affected.

(12) The root which makes insane,See ae

   
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
    
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
  
      
 
  
   
  
    
 
  
   
  
     
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
  
  

So hat ee

 

   

- 820 MACBETH. Aet 1.

Mach. And thane of Cawdor too; went it not so?| Without my stir.

. , !
Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. Who’s|

here ?

Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse. The king hath happily receiv’d, Macbeth,

The news of thy success: and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels’ fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his: Silenc’d with that,
In viewing o’er the rest o’the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As jg k as tale,
Came post with post; and every one did od a
Thy praises in his kingdom’s fea defence,
And pour’d them down before him.

Ang. We are sent,
To give thee, from our roy: al master, thanks ;

To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.

Rosse. And, for an earne st of a great r honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, 2 hail, most worthy thane!
For it-is thine,

Ban. What, can the devil speak true ?

Mach. The thane of Cawdor lives; W)}

you dress me
In borrow’d robes ?

Ang. Who was the thane, liv
But under heavy judement bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he w:
Combin’d with Norway: or did line ‘rebel
With hidden help and van th th |
He labour’d in his country’s wreck, 1 kn n
But treasons capital, contess’d, and prov’d,
Have overthrown him.

Mach. Glamis, the thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behind.—Thanks for your pains.—

Do you not hope your children shall be king
Whe n those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis’d no less to them ?
Ban. That, trusted home,
Might yet enkindle*® you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But tis strange
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths :
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence
Cousins, a word, | pray you.
Mach. Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme.—I thank you, gentlemen,—
This supernatural soliciting*
Cannot be ill; cannot be good: If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do L[ yield to that suggestion!
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated® heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings :
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smother’d in surmise ;* and ete r is,
But what is not.
Ban. Look, how our partner’s rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance
may crown me,

?

“9

?

tS} As fast as they could be counted. (2) Title
3

)

7)

Stimulate, (4) Encitement.
‘7 Temptation, (6) Firmly fixed.

The powers of action are oppressed by con-

jecture,

Those in commission yet return’d ?

1 ,
1 anat the

Ban. New hotiours come upon him

\Like our strange garments ; cleave not to their

mould,

| But with the aid of use.

| Macb. Come what come may ;

| Time and the hour® runs through the roughest day.

| Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your lei-
sure,

| Mach. Give me your fayour:*—my dull brain
was wrou; ht

| With things forgotten, Kind gentlemen, your pains

| Are register’d where every day I turn

|The leaf to read them.—Let us toward the king.—

lhink upon what hath chane’d: and, at more time,

| he interim having weigh’d it, let us speak
|Our free hearts each to other.

Ban, Very gladly,
Wacb. Till then, enough.—Come, friends, [Eze.

SCENE IV.—Fores. A room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain,
Lenox, and attendants.

Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not

; }

Mal, My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die: who did report,
inat very il inkly he confess’d his treasons ;
[mplor’d your highness’ pardon; and set forth

Ad ep repentance; nothing in his life
5 ie him, like the leaving it: he died
\ ne that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow’d,!”
As ’twere a careless trifle.

Hun. There’s no art,
To find the mind’s construction in the face :™?

He was a gentleman on whom I built
in absolute trust. —QO worthiest cousin t

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus,

The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me Thou art so far before,
That sw ifte st wing of rec ompense is slow
To overtake thee. ’Would thou h ae t less desery ‘d;
‘e oportion bi th of thanks and payment
Might have be en mine! only I have left to say,
lore is thy due than more than all ean pay,

Mach, The service and the loyalty I owe,
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness’ part
Is to receive our duties: and our duties
\re to your throne and state, children, and servants:
Which do but what they should, by doing every

thing .

Safe toward your love and honour.

Dun. Welcome hither
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing.'?—Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserv’d, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold thee,
And hold thee to my he art.

Ban. There if I grow,
lhe harvest is your own.
Dun. My plenteous joys,

Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves

In drops of sorrow.—Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
(nd you whose places are ‘the nearest , know,
We will establish our estate upon

(8) Time and opportunity,
(10) Owne di, possesse ad,
(11) We cannot construe the disposition of the
mind by the lineaments of the face,

(12) Exuberant,

(9) Pardon.Seene V, VI.

Our. eldest, Malcolm: whom we name here after,
The prince of Cumberland: which honour mus
lot, unaccompanied, invest him only,
But sign of nobleness , like stars, shall shine
On all de servers,—} rom he nce to Inve rness,
And bind us further to you.
Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us’d for you:
I'll be rae harbinger, and make joyful ~

,

The hearing of my es with your approach :
So, banner ‘take my le:
Dun. My worthy Cawdor!
Mach. The prince of Cumberland !—That is a
sten

° . : . .
On which I must fall down, or else o’erl

Let not light see my black and deep desires :

The eye wink at the hand! yet let that be,

Which the eye fears, when it is done. to see. [ Ex.
Dun. True, worthy B inquo; heis full so valiant;!

And in his commendations I am fed :

itis a banquetto me. Let us after him,

W hose care is gone before to bid us welcome :‘

For in my w: iy it lies. Stars, hide your fires!

It is a peerless kinsman. | Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE y -—Inverness. Ad room in. Macbeth’s
castle. Enter Lad j;Ma , reading a teller.

Lady M. They met me in the day of success:
and I have learned by the perfectest report,? |
have more in them than mortal knowledee. V
I burned - desire lo questi t them further, th
made themselves—air, into w h
Whiles I a rapt ; :
missives® from the king, w “ja :F
of Cawdor: by which till fore,
sisters saluted me, and referred lo i ni
on of time, with, Hail, king that shalt be! et.
have I thought cood t
partner of greatness ; that t
the dues of rejoicing, ( ;
greatness ts prom Ptneé. fh t lo thy heart,
and farewell.

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor: ui

W hat thou art promis’d:—Yetdolt 1y nature
It is too full o’the milk of human k dn ’
To catch the nearest way: Thou woulid’st be great ;

Art not without ambition; but withou oo
The illness should altend it. What thou wouid'st
highly, .

That would’st thou holily; would’sf not play Se,
And yet would’st wrongly win: tioud'’st have,
: great Glamis,

That which cries, Thus thou must do, yf ta
have it : ;

And that which rather thou dost lear to d A ae

Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hitl

That J may pour my spirits in thine
i lour of my tonrue
And chastise with the valour ol m net

All that impedes thee from the go Nd n round ;*
Which fate and metapny sical’ - a oth seem os
To have thee crown’d withal.—What is you

;

tidings
Enter an Attendant.
Attend. The king comes here to-night. i
Lady M. . a mad to say i
Is not thy master with him? who, were’t so,
Would have inform’d for prep (ration L.

]

Full as valiant as described. |
The best intelligence. (3) Messengers.
4) Diadem. (5) Supernatural,
i)

Murderous. (7) Pity.
Wrap as in 4 mantle,

MACBETH. avi

viitend, So please you, itis true; our thane ts
coming : :
One of my fellows had the speed of him ;
\ No, almost dead for brsath, had scarcely more
‘Than would make up his message.

Lady M, Give him tending,
le brings s creat news. The raven himself is hoarse,
| Exit Attendant.
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits
That tend on mortal® thoughts, unsex me here ;
me, from the crown to the toe, top- -full’

ii cruelty ! make thick my blood,

top up the access and passage to remorse ; :

hat no compunctious visitings of nature

ake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The eflect, and it! C ome to my woman’s breasts,

nd take my milk for gall, you murd’ ring ministers,

on

‘

S
\
‘Wherever in your sightless substances

You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
\nd pall® thee in the dunnest smoke of hell !

(‘hat my keen knife® see not the wound it makes ;
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,

To cry, Hold, Hold !—Great Glamis, worthy Caw-

u yr!
Enter Macbeth.

Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter !
: | ers have transported me beyond

T ignorant present,!® and I feel now
[he future in the instant,
Mach. My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to- night.
L M, And when goes hence ?
ach. ''o-morrow,—as he purposes,
Lady M. O, never,
il sun that morrow see!
} lace, my thane, is as a book, where men
matters :—To be ‘guile the time,
the time; bear welcome in your eye,
our hand, vour tongue: look like the innocent
ut be the serpent under it. He that’s coming

ve provided for: and you shall put
his night’s great business into my despatch ;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

Waecb. We will speak further.

Lady M. Only look up clear ;
To alter favour?! ever is to fear:
Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.—The same. Before the castle.
Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending.
miter Dunean, Maleolm, Donalbain, Banquo,
Lenox, Macduti, Rosse, Angus, and aitendants.

Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air

Nimbly and’sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.

Ban. This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does s approve,

By his lov’d m: insionry y, that the heaven’ n’s breath
Smells wooingly here ; no jutty, frieze, buttress,
for allen of vantage,!2 but this bird hath made
His pendent bed, and nr cuheieienana : Where they

‘|Most breed and haunt, I have observ’d, the air

Is delicate.

(9) Knife anciently meant a sword or da ger,
( 10) i. e. Beyond the present time, whic —
cording to the process of nature, ignorant ol

future.

(11) Look, countenance, (12) vitaliel
24my

Seen ae

 

 

so ee mee se

 

:
ty
t}
\
tt

Hide MACBETH.

Enier Lady Macbeth.

Dun. See, see! our honour’d hostess!
The love that follows us, sc netime is our trouble,
Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you,
How you shall bid God yie’ ''! us for your pains,
And thank us for your trou Je,

Lady M. All our service
In every point twice done, : ad then done double,
Were poor and single busin ss, to contend
Against those honours deep ind broad, wherewith
Your majesty loads our hou.e: For those of old,
And the late dignities heap’ up to them,

We rest your hermits.?

. Dun. Where’s he thane of Cawdor ?
We cours’d him at the heels, and had a purpose
To be his purveyor: but he ides well;

And his great love, sharp asi is spur, hath holp him

To his home before us: Fair and noble hostess,
We are your guest to-night.

Lady M. Your servants ever

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in
compt,?

To make their audit at your ichness’ p!casure,

Still to return your own.

Dun. Give me your hand:
Conduct me to mine host; we love him highly,
And shall continue our grace: towards him. ~
By your leave, hostess. [ Exeunt.
SCENE VIIL—The same. 1 room in the castle.

Hautboys and torches. Evter, and pass over

the stage, a Sewer,* and divers Servants with

dishes and service. Then enter Macbeth,

Macb. If it were done, when ’tis done, then
> ,

*twere well
It were done quickly: If the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success ; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,—
We'd jump the life to come.—But, in these cases,
VW still have judgment here ; chat we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, bei:g taught, return
To plague the inventor: This ¢ en-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of o'.r poison’d chalice
To our own lips. He’s here in ‘ouble trust:
Firs., as | am his kinsman and tis subject,
Sit. ng both against the deed; | ien, as his host,
W | should against his murderer shut the door,
Nt bear the knife myself. Bes des, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so mee: hath been
So clear in his great office, that iis virtues
W. | plead like angels, trumpet-' »ngued, against
Tix deep damnation of his takin, --olf:
An _ pity, like a naked new-born sabe,
Striding the blast, or heaven’s cli:rubin, hors’d
Uy nthe sightless couriers® of th air,
Shal. blow the horrid deed in every eye,
Thac tears shall drown the wind.—I have no spur
T. prick the sides of my intent, but only
Veu'ting ambition, which o’er-leaps itself,
And falls on the other.—How now, what news?

Enter Lady Macbeth.

Lady M. He has almost supp’d ; Why have you
left the chamber ?
/dach, Hath he ask’d for me ?
"dy M. Know you not, he has?
"seb. We will proceed nofurther jn this business :

1) Reward.

(2) t. ¢. We as hermits shall ever pray for you.
$) Subject to account.

(4) An officer so called from his placing the dishes
gp the table,

   
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
   
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
    
 
 
    
  
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
    
    

   

ct ff,

‘cd
He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bouglit
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,

Which would be worn now in their newest gloss;
Not cast aside so soon.

Lady M. Was the hope drunk,
Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept since 7
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely ? From this time,

Such I aecount thy love. Art thou afeard

To be the same in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in desire? Would’st thou have that
| Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life,

| And live a coward in thine own esteem ;
Letting I dare not wait upon J would,

ike the poor cat ’the adage ?

Mach, Pr’ythee, peace :

I dare do all that may become a man ;
Who dares do more, is none.

Lady M. What beast was it then,

That made you break this enterpfise to me ?
When you durst do it, then you were a man;
And, to be more than what you were, you would
3c so much more the man. Nor time, nor place,
Did then adhere,® and yet you would inake both :
They have made themselves, and that their fitness
now
Does unmake you. Ihave given suck; and know
'How tender ’tis, to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
lave pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
‘Have done to this. ;
| Mach. If we should fail,——
‘ Lady M. a We fail!
ut screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep,
(Whi reto the rather shall his day’s hard journey
Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains ;
| Will I with wine and wassel’ so convince,?®
| That memory, the warder® of the brain,
|Shal! be a fume, and the receipt of reason
|A limbeck only: When in swinish sleep
| Their drenched natures lie, as in a death,
| What cannot you and I perform upon
|The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon
| His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt
(Of our great quell ??°
fg Macb. Bring forth men children only !
lor thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be received,"!
When we have markd with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and us’d their very daevers
That they have done’t , ak,
| Lady M, \
}As we shall make our er
Upon his death ?
|_ Mach. I am settled, and bend up
| Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
|Away, and mock the time with fairest show :
| Palse face must hide what the false heart doth know,
[Exeunt,
coment pee

ms Fi
SCENE I.—The same. Court within the castle.

’ . ;
Enter Banquo and Fleance, and a servant, with
a torch before them,

 

 

7

ial cw te
vho dares receive it other,
iets and clamour roar

’

Ban. How goes the night, boy ?

(5) Winds; sightless is invisible.

= the same sense as cohere.

7) Intemperance, (8) Overpower.
(9) Sentinel, (10) Murder, (11) Apprehended,Seené HY,

Fle, The moon" d own
cloc k.

Ban, And she eoes down at twelve,

Fle. I take’t i *Lis

in he aven,

The ir candles are all out.—Take thee that

wavy summons lies like
Ynd yet | would riot sleep: Merciful po
Gives W uy to in re pose !—Cive me Iny SW
Enter Macbeth, and a servant with a

?
Who's there ?

Maeb. A friend.

Ban,What, sir, not yet at rest? The Kin
He hath bren in unusual pleasure, and
‘ nit forth ereat larvess? to vour oilices +3
‘This diamond : greets vour wile-withal,
By the name of most kind hostess
ln measureless content.

Mac. Being unprepar

;

14

baa
Ban, Hold, take my sword :—There’s Nusbandry!

lead upon me,
wers
Kestrain in me the curs d thourhts, that nature

* and shut up* |

MACBETH, Ft

; L have not heard the| Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

|The Very stones prate of my where- about,

| And take the present horror from the time,
ter, sir. | Which now suits with it—Whiles I threat, he lives ;
W ords to the heat of decds too cold breath gives.
[4 bell rings.
iT go, and it is done : the bell invites me.
| Hear it not, Duncan: for it is a knell,
| That summons thee to he aven, or to hell. [ Exit.

sad ai Ne ENE I1.—The same. Enter Lady Macbeth.

too.

ok | Lady M. That which hath made them drunk,
vi ibe =
hath made me bold

| What hath quench’d them, hath given me fire :—
Hark !—Peace !

’s a-bed:/It was the owl that shriek’? d, the fatal bellman,

Which gives the stern’st rood-nicht. He is about it:

Th doors are Open; and the surfeited grooms

| Do mock their ch: ree with snores: I have drugg’d
their possels,

‘hat death and nature do contend about them,

1, Whether they live or die.

Our will beeame the servant to defect ; Mach. | Within.) Who's there ?—what, ho!
Which else should free have wroushit. Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak? d,
Ban. All’s wel]. / And ’tis not done :—the atte mpt, and not the deed,
I dreamt last nicht of the three weird sisters - Confounds u :—Hark '—I laid the ir daggers ready,
To you they have show'd come truth. He could not miss them.—Had he not resembled
Aiach. [I think not-of them ;) ly lather as he slept, I had dow t.—My husband ?
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, . Enter Macbeth,
Would spend il in some words upon U USINCSS,
lf vou would grant the time. Mach. I have done the deed :—Didst thou not
Ban. At your kind’st Icisure. hear a noise ?
~Wach, If you shall cleay yimy consent,—when| Lady M. [heard the owl scream, and the crick.
Lis, ets cry.
It shall make honour for you. Did not you peak i
Ban. ' So I lose none, Mach. When ?
In seeking to augment it, but still keep Lady M, Now.
My bosoin franchis’d, and al! ice clear, Macb, As I descended
1 shall be counsel’d. Lady M. Ay
Wucl (; 00d repose, ft while! Macb. Hark
Ban, Thanks, sir; The like to you! [Er. Ban.| Who lies i’the second chamber ?
Mach. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is Lady M. Donalbain.
] “uy, Ala h, This is a sorry sight.
she strike upon the bell. Get thee to-bed. [ Er. Ser. | Looking on his hands.
is this a daever, which I see before me, Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

The handle toward my hand? Come, let meclutch| Mach. There’s one did laugh in his sleep, and

t;

NE 8 cee one cried, murder !

I have thee not, and vet I sce t! ll. Phat the did wake each other; I stood and heard

Art thou not, fatal vision, scnsible them : ,

To feeling 19 10 Sie! , or art thou but But they did : iy their prayers, and address’d them
° P ; = ts » falas . ron \ ain ft » sler ')

A daeger of the mind i false creation, iin D.

Proceeding from the heat-oppr d brain? lady Al. There are two lode’d torether.

j Ci ! ‘ ‘ ; : “ , a > ° ’ ,

I see thee vet. in form nalnable Macb. One eried, God bless us ! and, Amen, the

As! his whicl i PhO | dl Li. : other ; ae : ee "

Than sarekbllet mis the-way thatT v ‘int: \«” they had seen me, with these hangman’s hands.

\ l such an tistrument Twas to u Listening their fear, I could not say, amen,

Sime eves are made the foois o’the oth nses, When they did suy, (iod bless us.

Orel worth all the rest: I see thee still: ‘y A Consider it not so deeply.

cise v . ™ ~s ’ “ibe : n , * } , . Pp
And on thy blad vl dad i yuts® of blo “1, ach. But wherefore could not I pronounce,
’ : . )

‘ ! - ! »SuU thin: amen

Wi 1 was not so Delo an ‘ oA ie ‘ ‘ >

It is the bloody bu . infor I had most need of blessing, and amen

Thus to mine eves. —Now o'er the one half world |Stue! in my throat.

Phu oa inthe Avaneive iabiiid Tadu AI These deeds must not be thought

N iY + ts ¢ i, ‘ : ! : uate E* .

, i ceo aon ? celebrates (fer these ways; so, it will make us mad.

he eurtain’ .* no vil i Lit (Cé
Pale Heeate’s offerings: and) Lhe d mur

Alarum’d by his sentinel, th

Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his
pace,
With Tarquin’s ravi hing strides, toward
sign
Moves likes a ghost.—Thou ind firm
(1) Thrift (2) Bounty
(3’ The rooms app: Lt vants

    

sctearth, { hief nor!

der, Mach. Methought, T heard a voice cry, Sleep no
w07re .
stealthy |.Macheth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ;
SS] e¢ that knils up lhe ravell’d sleave® of care,
s his de-| 7h. Sd h of each daw? s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt ae ryeal nature’ $8 second cour Se,
‘in life’s feast ;—

(4) Conclude. (5) Haft.

(6) Drops,
7) As if, (8

) Sleave is unwrought silk,24 MACDETH. Act f7,
Landy M.

i What do you mean ?jver at quiet! What are You ?—~But this place 1 too
Maeb, Still it eried, Sleep no more? to all the|cold for hell. Ili devil-porter it no further: I had
house ¢ thought to have let in some of all professions, that
Glamis hath murder’d sleep ; and therefore Cawdor|so the primrose way to the everlasting bonfhe.
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more! |[Knocking.| Anon, anon; I pray you, remember
Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why,|the porter. | Opens the gate.
we thane, | Enter Macduff and Lenox.
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly of things :—Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.—
Why did you bring these daggers from the place ?
They must lie there: Go, carry them; and smear}
The sleepy grooms with blood,

 

| Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to
bed,
‘That you do lie so late ?

Port. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the
second cock :* and drink, sir, is a great provoker
of three things.

Macb Pll go no more: . : :
4 : _ ( hig Macd. What three things does drink espee r
I am afraid to think what I have done ; asain 2 : 2 "7 uk especially
. ‘ ( IAC f
Look on’t again, I dare not. Y Pak Ls cow. piv. senieeinaietiel meal al
: . Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep,
Lady M. Infirm of purpose! ae paneer PRE) ELOUR) Weer neers
: ' Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes: it pro-

Give me the daggers: The sleeping and the dead,
Are but as pictures: ’tis the eye of childhood,
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it mus’ seem their guilt.

(Exit. Knocking within.

vokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.
Therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivo-
cator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him ;
it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades
him, and disheartens him ; makes him stand to, and
not stand to: in conclusion, equivocates him in a

Mach. Whence is that knocking , sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.
flow is’t with me, when every noise appals me Macd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night.
What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine} Port, That it did, sir, ithe very throat o’me:

»yec ! > . . . . . 9
a eyes! 5, But I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood too strong for him, though he took up my legs
Clean from my hand ? No; this my hand will rather|sometime, yet I made a shifttocasthim. ~
The multitudinous seas incarnardine, ' Maced. Is thy master stirring ?—

Making the green one red. Our knocking has awak’d him; here he comes.

Re-enter Lady Macbeth. Enter Macbeth.
Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I} Len. Good-morrow, noble sir!
shame Mach. Good-morrow, both !
To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a} Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane ?
knocking Mac, Not yet.
At the south entry :—retire we to ourchamber: |_ /tHacd. He did command me to call timely on him:
A little water clears us of this deed: | have almost slipp’d the hour. ;
How easy is it then! Your constancy | Macb. Pil bring you to him,
Hath left you unattended.—[ Knocking.] Hark!) acd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you;
more knocking : But yet, ’tis one. . 5
Get on your night-gown, lest occasion éall us, | Mach. The labour we delight in, physics® pain.
And show us to be watchers :—Be not lost This is the door. ;
So poorly in your thoughts. Maced. Ill make so bold to call,
Mach. To know my deed,—’twere best not lor ’tis my limited service.® | Exit Maced.
know myself. {Knock,| Len. Goes the king
Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, ’would From hence to-day ?
thou could’st! ‘[Eweunt,| Macb. He does :—he did appoint it so.

en. The night has been unruly: Where we |:
SCENE UI.—The same. Enter a Porter. |Our chimneys were blown down: a a ay
[Knocking within. } Lamentings heard i’the air: strane screams of
death : ; ,
And prophesying, with accents terrible
)f dire combustion, and confus’d events
New hatch’d to the woful time.

Porter. Here’s a knocking, indeed! If a man
were porter of hell-gate, he should have old? turn- ,
ing the key. [Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock : |) 1” :
Who’s there, "the name of Belzebub? Here’s a Cl; “d the livelone nicl he obscure bird
farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of ae “ ae did — ne may; Cre saeth
plenty : Come in time ; have napkins? enough about M Pt telretad se 0 manana” :
you here you'll sweat for’t, [Knocking.] Knock. , au ¥ | é. was a rough nicht.
mock: Who's there, ?’the other devil’s io. . om ‘iv young remembrance cannot parallel
Faith, here’s an equivocator, that could swear in|’ rn
both the scales against either seale ; who committed Re-enter Macduff.
treason enough for God’s sake, yet could not equi-
vocate to Heaven: O,comein, equivocator. [ Knock- heart,
ing.] Knock, knock, knock: Whe’s there ? ’Faith, |Cannot conceive, nor name thee!"
here’s an English tailor come hither, for stealing out) Mach. Len. What's the matter?
of a French hose: Come in, tailor; here you may! Macd. Confusion now hath made } . a =
roast your goose. | Knocking.] Knock, knock: Ne-| piece ! , a
1) To incarnardine is to stain of a flesh-colour. |

, Q ‘ rey refi |
; Fc uent, (3) Handkerchiefs, ( gatives, not to make an
VOCK-crowing, ; s laflirmative, but to deny more stronely is c
5) +, & Affords a cordial to it, lin our author, . 4

“ lacd horror! horr ‘s T ; :
. e ror: h ) ) } : ; I
| { ) Oorror !? 1 ongue, ne

(6) Appointed service.
| (7) The use of two neeScene lV, MACBETH. a25

Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope | Lady M. Help me hence, ho!

The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence | Macd. Look to the lady.

The life o’the building. | | Mal. Why do we hold our tongues,
Mach. What is’t you say? the life ?|That most may claim this argument for ours?

_ Mean you his majesty ? Don. What should be spuken here,
‘Maed, Approach the chamber, and destroy your} Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole,

éé sight May rush, and seize us? Let’s away ; our tears
With a new Gorgon :—Do not bid me speak ; Are not yet brew’d.
See, and then speak yourselves. —Awake! Awake!—| Mal.

| Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.|The foot of motion.
Ring the alarum-bell:—Murder! andtreason! | Ban. Look to the lady :—
Banquo, and Donalbain! Maleolm! awake! [Lady Macbeth is carried out,
Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, | |And when we have our naked frailties hid,
And look on death itself!—up, up, and see | That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
rhe great doom’s image !—Maleolm! Banquo! | And question this most bloody piece of work,
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,|To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us :
'o countenance this horror ! | Bell rings. |In the great hand? of God I stand ; and, thence,

Enter Lady Macbeth. | Against the undivulg’d pretence? I fight
J Of treasonous malice.

Lady M. What’s the business,! Mach. And so do I.
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley | All. So all.
The sleepers of the house ? speak, speak, , | ach. Let’s briefly put on manly readiness,

Nor our strong sorrow on

 

Macd, QO, gentle lady| And meet i’the hall together,
*Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: | fll, Well contented.
The repetition, in a woman’s ear, [Exeunt all but Mal. and Don.
Would murder as it fell——O Banquo! Banquo!| al. What will you do? Let’s not consort with

them:
show an unfelt sorrow, is an office
Our royal master’s murder’d! Which the false man does easy: Pll to England.

Enter Banquo. To

Lady M. Wo, alas! Don. To Ircland, I; our separated fortune
What, in our house ? Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
Ban. Too cruel, any where.—— | There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood,
Dear Duff, I pr’ythee, contradict thyself, The nearer bloody.
And say, it is not so. | Mal. This murderous shaft that’s shot,
Re-enter Macbeth end Lenox. Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way
Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse ;

Se age Ae ig t us not be dainty of leave-taking,
Th id liv'd . ble ssec time; for, from this instant, | Rut shiftaway: There's warrant in that theft
here's nothing serious in mortality ; Which steals itself, when there’s no mercy left.
Allis but toys: renown, and grace, is dead; ' [Exeunt.

The wine of life is drawn, and the merc lees .
SCENE IV.—Without the castle. Enter Rosse
and an Old Man.

Mach. Had I but died an hour before this chance, } d let
?
,

Is left this vault to brag of.
Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.

Don. What is amiss ? Old M. Tlreescore and ten I can remember
Mach. You are, and do not know it:| well:
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Within the volume of which time, I have seen
Is stopp’d; the very source of it is stopp’d. Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore
Macd. Your royal father’s murder’d. night :
Mal. O, by whom ?| Hath trifled former knowings.
Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem’d, had! Jtosse. Ah, good father,
done’t : Thou sce’st, the heavens, as troubled with man’s
Their hands and faces were all badg’d with blood, si act, 1 hin waa lock. ’tis day
So were their daggers, which, unwip’d, we found |Threaten his bloody stage; by the clock, “Us day,
; 5

And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp :

Upon their pillows: travel
. Is’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame,

They star’d, and were distracted ; no man’s life Lnig ;
Was to be trusted with them. That darkness does the face ol corik intomb,
Mach. O, yet Ido repent me of my fury, When living light should kiss it’
That I did kill them. ee | Old M. Tis unnatural,
aban aa Pas bitlille : ; a : te ve are
Waed Wherefore did you so? Even like the deed that’s done, On Tuesday last,
Mach. Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate, and|A faleon, tow’ring In her pride of place, :
ican ; Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at, and kill’d,
) Noman: Rosse. And Duncan’s horses, (a thing most
strange and certain, )
Out-ran the pauser reason.—Here lay Duncan, Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
His silver skin Jac’d with his golden blood ; Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
_— _ : ; + : . , ; . » lent aipnee ac 2.
And his cash’d stabs look’d like a breach in nature, | Cont nding ’gainst obedience, as they would make
or ? the murderers,| War with mankind.

furious,
Loval and neutral, in a moment
The expedition of my violent love

j

For ruin’s wasteful entrance : there, ; al ia i
Steen’d in the colours of their trade, their daggers Old M. ‘Tis said, they eat ech fee
ii tacs aie eiaalad et wears) nid re -osse, They did so ; to the amazement of mine
Unmannerly breech’d with gore:' Who could re- Rosse. They did so ; e ,

fe eyes,

frain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make his love known ?

That look’d upon’t.—Here comes the good Mac-
duff: ——

(1) Covered with blood to their hilt. (2) Power. (3) Intention,m,

    
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
 
   
  
   
   
  
   
    
 
  
    

 

    

a |
4 326 , MACBETH. Act Il.
:
l; | Enter Macduff. Ban, As far, my on as will fill up the time
How goes the world, sir, now? br wixt this and supper: go ete ‘eht, the better
Macd. Why, see you not |] must become a borrower of the nigh
Rosse. Is’t known who did this more than} ‘For a dark hour, or twain.
bloody deed? | Macb. Fail not our feast
)loody deed ? ; ei oe Ry 1 rd yee) weve
Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. aS d, I will no ee
i Rosse. Alas, the day! : . We hea I, sue oe cousins are bestow’¢
What good could they pretend ?! Tn Bn weland, and . tad. — ; not confessing
Macd. ’ They were suborn’d: Their cruel parricide, filling tee pene Seen
Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king’s two sons, | 2 een eS Maven tion: But te ae aan olliiints ;
Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them | 7" "5 therew ithal, Re ae Bh ee Gt prale,
Suspicion of the decd. PM raving us, jointly. nC Adieu, ,
Rosse. IGainst nature still: | J ul you return at night, Goes Pieance wit 1 you?
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up | Baw. Ay, my good lord: our time does call
Thine own life’s means 1—Th nm tis most like, M Upon U a eee Y
The sovereignty will fall upon Mae a th. ICO. capi Hh YOUT NOTES SWit, ANE SREP of foot ;
Macd. We is already nam’d ; and gone to Scone,| And aN : aye end? you to their backs. |
To be invested. varewell,—— a [Eavit Banquo.
HE Rosse. Where is Duncan’s body? Let every man be Master a his time
Fins ae Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill ; : Pill s seven i on ; to make eee ecif
i The saered storehouse of his predecessors, ' The sweet er ae ill keep ourself il
i And guardian of their bones. | Pill supp r-time a}one eee ads age be — —
i Ltosse. Will you to Scone?),. [Exeunt any Macbeth, Lords, La ses, ve
yl Maced. No, cousin, lll to Fife e. Jr! ty a word Attend those men our pleasure d
Rosse. sat ell, I will thither, Itlen. They are, my lord, without the palace-
Y Macd. Well, may you see things well done| ,, , 50°: ‘
f there ;—adieu !—— | Mach. Bi ing, them before us.—[Eaxit Alten. ]
i Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! rey Do be thus, is nothing ;
t Rosse. Father, farewell. put oo be saf ‘ly thus :—Our fears in Banquo
Old M, God’s benison go with you; and with|?>“C“ d os eee his royalty? of nature |
i those r Reigns that, which would be fear’d: ’Tis much
i That would make g ood of bad, and friends of foes! had he dares ae aes
f é Ereunt,\ 204, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
. He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour

 
   
  
   
   
  
   
 
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
    
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
   

a Sas
ACT Ill.
SCENE I.—Fores. .1 room in the palace.

ter Banquo.
Ban. Thou hast it now, King,
all,
As the weird’s women promis’d; and, I fear,
Thou play’dst most foully for’t: yet it was said,
| It should not stand in thy posterity ;

But that myself should be the root, and father
Of many kings. Ifthere come truth from them
(As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine, )
Why, by the verities on thee m ade good,
May ‘they not be my oracles as well,
And set me up in hope? But, hush ;

Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as king;
Macbeth, as queen; Lenox, Rosse, Lords
dies, anu ‘attendants.

Mach. Here’s our chief enest.

Lady M. If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all things unbecoming,

Mach. To-night we hold a selemn supper, sir,
And Pll request your presence.

Ban. Let your highness
Command upon me; to the which, my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tie
For ever knit.

.Macb. Ride you this afternoon ?

Ban. Ay,

Mach. We

advice

En-

Cawdor, Glamis,

no more.

my rood lord.

ercemntah itetinn ns ete rede

In this day’s council; but we’ll take to-morrow.

Is’t far you ride?

ta

Intend to themselves. (2) Commit.
Nobleness, (4) For defiled,

Lady! |Rather than so, come,
, La-| And champion me

should have else desir’d your good|

(Which still hath been both grave and prosperous, ) |

(To actin safety. There is none, but he,
Whose being I do hae : -and, unc te r him,
.My genius is rebuk’d; as, it is said,

Mark Antony’s was by C esar. He chid the sis sters,
| When first they put the name of king upon me,
'And bade them speak to him; then, prophet-like,
| They hail’d him father to a line of kings:
|Upon my head they p a fruitless crown,
|And put a heen hn sceptre in my gripe,
| Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand,
|No son of mine succeeding. Ifit be so,
| t’or Banquo’s issue have I fil’d* my mind;
|For them the gracious Duncan have I murder’d ;
| Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
|Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
| Give n to the common enemy of man,

| T'o make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!

into the list,

fate,
to the utterance '!'——Who’s

I
]
ic ed

*y

| there ?
Attendant,
Now to the door,

Re-enter with tereo Murderers.

and stay there till we call.
| Ewit Attendant.
Was it not yesterday we together ?
1 Mur. It was, so please your highness,
Mech. Well then,
| Have you consider’d of my speeches? Know,
|That it was he, in the times past, which he ld you
[So under fortune; which, you though it, had been
|Our innocent self: this I made good to you
In our last conference ; pass’d in probation® with
you,
\Low you were borne
instruments ;

Who wrou: ght with them ;

|
| might,

spoke

now

   

in hand ;* how cross’d; the

and all things else, that

r+) Challenge me to extremities,

(6) Proved. (7) Deluded,Scene Il. MACBETH, 827

To half a soul, and a notion craz‘d, (I'll come to you anon.

Say, Thus did Banquo, _ 2 Mur. We are resolv’d, my lord.
1 Mur, You made it known to us.| Macb. Pll call upon you straight; abide within.
Macb. I did so; and went further, which is now

| It is concluded :——Banquo, thy soul’s flight

If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. (Exe.

SCENE II.—The same. Another room. Ente.
Lady Macbeth, and a Servant.

Whose heavy hand hath bow’d you to the grave, Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court ?

And beggar’d yours for ever ? | Serv. Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.

Our point of second meeting. Do you find
Your patience so predominant in your nature,
That you can let this go? Are you so rospell’d,!
To pray for that good man, and for his issue,

|
}
i
|
|
|
} i
}
|

L Mur, : We are men, my liege.| Lady MM. Say to the king, I would attend his

Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; leisure
As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels,|For a few words.
. _ curs, Serv. Madam, I will. [Exi.
Shoughs,? water-rugs, and demi-wolves, arecleped?| | Lady M. Nought’s had, all’s spen’,
All by the name of dogs: the valued file | Where our desire is got without content:
Distinguishes the swilt, the slow, the subtle, ’Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
The house-ke eper, the hunter, every one Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy.
According to th. gift which bounteous nature ‘
Hath in him clos’d; whereby he does reccive | Enter Macbeth.
Particular addition,* from the bil How now, my lord ? why do you keep alone,
That writes them all alike: and so of men. }Ol sorriest’ fancies your companions making ?
Now, if you have a station in the file, Using those though. -, which shouldindeed have dix
And not in the worst rank of manhood, say it ; With them they th.ak on? Things without remedy,
And I will put that business in your bosoms, Should be without regard : what’s done, is done.
Whose execution takes your enemy off; “Wach. We have : zotch’d the snake, not kill’d it ;
Grappies you to the heart and love of us, She'll close, and be ierself; whilst our poor malice
Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Remains in danger of her former tooth.
Which in his death wer: pcricct, But let

2 Mur’. lam one, my liege,| The frame of things c ‘sjoint, both the worlds suff r,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world ire we will eat our ineal in fear, and sleep
Have so incens’d, that | am reckless® what In the affliction of th :se terrible dreams,
I do, to spite the world. That shake us night. : Better be with the dead,

1 Ver. And I another, Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace,
So weary with disasters, tugg’d*® with fortune, han on the torture of the mind to lie
That I would set my life on any « In restless eestasy.!° Duncan is in his grave ;
To mend it, or be rid o1 'After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well ;

Macb. Both of you l'reason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poisen,
Know, Banquo was your enemy. Malice dome slic, fore zn levy, nothing,

2 Mur. : True, my lord,|Can touch him further !

Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody dis-|} Lady M. Come on;

tances f Gentle my lord, sleek o’er your rugged looks ;

That every minute of his being thrusts Be bright and jovial ’mong your guests to-night.
Against my near’st of life: And though I could Macb. So shall I, love ; and so,I pray, be you:
With bare-fae’d power sweep him from my sight, |Let your remembrance apply Lo Banquo ;
And bid my will avouch it: yet 1 must not, Present him eminencc,"! both with eye and tongue ;
For’ certain friends that are both his and mine, Unsafe the while, tha we
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Must lave our honou mn these flattering streams ;
Whom I myself struck down: and thence it is, {nd make our faces v; -ards to our hearts,

That Ito your assistance do make love ; Disguising what they re. __

Masking the business from the common eye, Lady M. _ _ You must leave this.

For sundry weighty reasons. Mach. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
2 Mur. —" We shall, my lord, Thou know’st, that Banquo, and his k leance, lives.

Perform what you command us. La ly M. Butin therm nature’s copy s not eterne,!?
1 Mur. : Though our lives——| _ . Yacb. There’s comio yet; they are assailable ;

Mach. Your spirits shine through you. Within|Then be thou jocund : “re the bat hath flown

, His cloister’d flight ; ere, to black Hecate’s sum-

1 ™ +
this hour, m

, ar <

vill advise you where to plant yourselves. mons, :
e eh <4 ; ith the pericct spy o’the time The shard-borne beetle. '* with his drowsy hums,
a .you™ - 7 : ’ = 2 j . ‘ repre eh:
es vs + must be done to-night Hath rung night’s yawn ng peal, there shall be done
The moment on’t; fort must be aon ight, 28) f magne s yawn
And thing from the palace; always thought |A deed of dreadful note. :
eae Cacia blaatness: Al him sady J What's to be done?
That l require a clearness: And with him, | Lady HM.
T | ve no rabs. nor bote! in the work,) | JWacb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest
{ Oo icave no ruvs, ! Le weS, WT) Lil ger
Fleance his son, that kec] I"m company, chuck,’
\\ Teele me no less material to me Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling'® night,

Wwse als Ce i) SS la vel t Li : , : ; oo by ay
, ‘hy hi “fall er’s, must embrace the fate Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ;

if « mS ‘ ! i we 5 il Lit 4 aah “ ; : = .t cre
oft ‘ot dark hour. Rtezolve yourselves apart ; And, with thy bloody ard invisible hand,

nat darK nour. ut ye rscive 1}

¥ ie “the! (10) Agony © him the highest S.
(1) Are you so obedient to the precept of the} (10) Agony (U1) Do him the highest hondurs
Gospel. i (3) Called. ‘their lives from nature, ‘us its time of termination,
\ } aa a iiitien as i (5) Careless. | (13) The beetle.born« in the air by its shards o
by UESCLip ° é > eal :
6} Worried. (7) Mortal enmity. jscaly oe f endear:uent (15) Blindin
(8) Because of. (9) Most melancholy. } (14) A term of endear:uent. geCoreen tent ery tate

308 MACBETH. Act UI.

20th sides are even: Here I’ll sit i’the midst:

Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond
3e large in mirth; anon, we’ll drink a measure

Which keeps me pale!—Light ti thickens; and the

 

crow |The table round. fy he re’s blood upon thy face.
Makes wing to the rooky wood: | Mur. ’Tis Banquo’s then. =
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; Mach. ’Tis better thee without, than he within.

Whiles night’s black agents to their prey do rouse. |Is he de spatch’d ? :

Thou marvell’st at my words; but hold thee still ; | Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for

Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: him.

So, pr’ythee, go with me. — [Exeunt.| .Macb. ar 4 the best o’the cut-throats: Yet
| 1e’s Fool

SCENE UI.—The same. ney or lawn, with| |'That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
a gate leading to the palace. Enter three ‘Mur- Thou art the nonpareil.

 

 

derers. | Mur. Most royal sir,
3 : a ‘ i i L Sinn wl
1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? | Fleance is ’scap’d. ;
3 Mur. Macbeth.| “ach. Then comes my fit again: I had else
2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust ; since he de-| been perfect
livers Whole as the marble, founded as the rock ;
hie hens d 1 woaner ae _ pac iy
Our offices, and what we have to do, a8 DI oad, and g¢ neral, as the a ;
To the direction just But now, I am ecabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d, bound in
1 Mur Then stand with us To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo’s safe ?
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
Now spurs the lated traveller apace, Ww ith tw nty trenched gi ashes on his head ;
To gain the timely inn; and near approaches The least a death to ni iture.
The subject of our watch. SERCO. Thanks for that:
3 Mur. Hark! I hear horses, | There the grown serpent lies ; the worm, that’s fled,
Ban. [Within.] Give us a light there, ho! Math nat ure that in time will venom bre ed,
; tis he: the rest| No teeth for the present.—Get thee gone ; to-mor
ur. Then it is he; the rest e ;
That are within the note of expectation, ! ee row Lae
Already are i’the court. | We'll hear, ourselves again. [Exit Murderer.
1 Mur. His horses go about.}__ Lady MM. ' : My royal lord,
3 Mur. Almost a mile: but he does usually, | You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold,
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Tis is not often vouch’ d, while "tis a making,
Make it their walk. Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at
home ;
Enter Banquo and Fleance, a servant wiih a torch|From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony :
preceding them. Meeting were bare without it.
2 Mur. A light, a light! | Macb. _ Sweet remembrancer !—
3 Mur. 'Tishe. |Now, rd digestion wait on appetite,
1 Mur. Stand to’t. And health on both!
. ° > ? a 2 . 2 . .
Ban. It will be rain to-night. } sen May it please your highness sit?
1 Mur. Let it come down. | [The Ghost of Banquo rises, and sits in
| Assaults Banquo. | Macbeth’s place.
. ™ ’ Tach -“. . 1 (OY . mY 7 n ¢
Ban, O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly,| acd. Here had we now our country’s honour
y; a roof’d,
Thou may’st revenge. O slave! Wi re the grae’d person of our Banquo present ;
[ Dies. Fleance and servant es rape, | \¥ ho may I rather challenge for unkindness,
3 Mur. Who did strike out the li cht 1 ) | Th in pity for mischance!
1 Mur. Was’t not the way?|_ toss His absence, sir,
: .
3 Mur. There’s but one down; the son is fled. | 142! bl; ime upon his promise. Please it your
2 Mur. We have lost best half of our affair. ' highness
1 Mur. Well, let’s away, and say how much is| f° grace us “o h your royal company?
done. [Ea eunt. Mach. The table’s full.

| Len. Here’s a place reserv’d
SCENE IV.—A room of state in the palace. .4| Mach. Where? piace reserv d, sir
banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lad vy Mac- Len. Here, my lord. What is’t that

beth, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and attendanis. moves your highness ?

 

Mach. Whie!l , marae thie?
Macb, You know your own degrees, sit down: ee uch of you have done this 1
Se Brat = S. What, my good lord ?
| eHitiCV, nst OL Se it: ‘or “uke
And last, the hearty welcome. Tne cath a wi ; - not say; 2 did it: never shake
Lords. Thanks to your majesty. Rie ee etnad daa
Mavs. Onreslt will milncle with soniety. | ; Ate tp ntl int n, rise ; | his highness is not well.
And play the humble host. ee a friends :—my lord is often
‘ LNuUS
Our hostess keeps her state ;2 but, in best time, |ayay 4] ty a fromubta th: °P
We will re quire her welcome. [Peale hee “Cn OMS Youth Pray you, keep
Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our!) ese
Dinca | =e ene Ht ie momentar) ; upon a thought?
riends ; He will again |
For my heart speaks, they are welcome. ly ei : all! A * ae it ra a nfo ae og?
1 You sh Olena him, and extend his passion ;
. seca) en hw lank ‘a :
Enter first Murderer, to the door. ere. a gard him not.—Are you a man?
Macb. See, they encounter thee with their he arts’ | M » iy is a bold one, that dare look on that
thanks : Which might al the devil.
velar set uce . se are set down in the list of|(2) Continues in her chair of state.
rected to supper.
’ ; ) *
pI (3) As quick as thought, (4) Prolong his suffering,Lady M. O proper stuff!

This is the very painting of your fear:

This is the air-drawn on gger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. 0, these flaws,’ and starts,

Impostors to true fe: . would well become
A woman’s story, at a winter’s fire,
Authoriz’d by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all’s d
You look but on a stool.

-Wach. P r’ythee, see there! behold! look! lo!

how say you?
Why, what care I? If thou canst t nod, speak te
If che arnel- houses, and our graves, must sen id
Those that we bury, back, our monuments

 

Shall be the maws of kites. | Ghost disappears.
Lady M. What! quite unmann’d in folly ?

-Wacbh. If I stand here, I saw him.

Lady M., Fie, for shan

Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now,
olden time,
Ere human statute pure’d the gentle weal;

Ay, and since too, murders have been perform’d
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been.
he brains were out the man would

That, when t
And there an end; but now, they rise agai!

With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: This is more strane:

se
Than such a murder is.

Lady M. My worthy lord
Your noble friends do lack you,

Mach. I do for ret:
Do not muse? at me, my most worthy friends ;

I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those: that know m
to all:

Then Pll sit down:——Give me some wine,

full :——

l drink to the renner il joy of the whole { ib] :

5
And to our dear friend B inquo, whom we mi
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thir
And all to all.?
Lords. Our duties, and the pledec.
Mach. Avaunt! and quit my sight! L
earth hide thee !

 

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold:
Thou hast no speculation in those ey
Which thou dost ' glare with !

Lady M. Think of this, rood

But as a thine of custom: ‘tis no other:
Only it spoils the pleasure of th
Mart ). What man dare, I dare
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm’d rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: Or, be alive again,

And dare me to the desert with thy sword ;
If trembling I inhibit* thee, p time
The baby of a girl. Hence, h rribie sna

F [Gi he Lad )
y } .
Unreal mockery, henee !—Why, so;—veing

I am a man again.——Pray you, s!

Lady M. You have displac’d the mirth, broke

the cood meeting,
With most admir’d disorder. 7
Mach. Can such thin

And overcome? us like a summer’s cloud,

Without our special wonder ? You make me strang

Even to the disposition that I owe
When now I think you can be hold such sicht

1) Sudden gusts. (2) Wonder.

8) i. ¢. All good wishes to all. (4) Forbid.
5) Passover. (6) Possess. (7) Magpies.

Scene V. MACBETH. 329

Come, love and hea

te

|And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,

| When mine are blanch’d with fear.

Rosse, What sights, my lord ?
Lady M. I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse
and worse ;
Question enrages him: at once, good night :—
Stand not upon the order of your | going,
it go al once.
Len. Gi 0d night, and better health

io M. A kind good night to all!
[Exeunt Lords and attendants.
ach. It will have blood; they say, blood will
have blood:
Stones have been known to move, and trees ta
speak ;
\ugurs, and understood relations, have
By magot-pies,” and choughs, and rooks, brought
orth
ret’st man of blood.—What is the night ?
Lady M. Al nost at odds with morning, “which

Mach. ew meet thou, that Macduff denies

his person,
At our creat bidding ?
Lady M, Did you send to him, sir?

‘Mach. I hear it by the way; but I will send:
There’s not a one® of them, but in his house
I keep a servant feed. I will to-morrow

ty will, ) into ee sisters:
More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, thé Warde: | for mine own good,
causes shall give way. lam in blood
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er:
lings I have in head, that will to hand ;
e they may be scann’d.?
Lady M1. You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
Mach. Come, we'll to sleep: My strange and

Which must be acted, «

Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use :—

We are yet but young in deed. [Exeunt,
SCENE V.—The heath. Thunder. Enter Ho-
cate, meeting lhe three Witches;

1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate? you look
ancerly.
Hee. Have U not reason, bedlams, as you are
Saucy, and overbold? Liow did you dare
‘To de and trafhe with M icbeth,
In riddles and affairs of death:
And J, the mist of your charms,
lhe close contriver of all harms,
¥) never call’d to bear my part,
QO) rw lory of our art ?
And, which is worse, all you have done
t{ath been but for a wayward son,
teful, and wrathful, who, as others do,
Loves for his oOiwn ends, not for you,
but make amends now: Get you gone,
\nd at the pit of Acheron,
\ieet me ithe morning: thither he
Wille ne to know h 11S destiny,

Your veanalh , and your spells, provide,
Your charms, and every thing beside :

[ am for the air; this night Pil spend
Unto a dismal-fatal end.

Great business mus! oe wrought ere noon*
Upon the corner of the moon

'There hangs a vaporous drop profound ;?°

(8) An individual. (9) Examined nicely.

(10) i.e. A drop that has deep or hidden qual-

ties.

ae~ ete —_
ee Ree bi

 

ene ge eo

55) MACBETH. Act IV.

I'll catch it ere it come to ground:

And that, distill’d by magic slights,

Shall raise such artificial spritcs

As, by the strength of their aNuaioK,

Shall draw him on to his c onfusion :

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and beat

His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear

And you all know, security

Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.
Song. [Within.] Come away, come away, &c.|

Hark, 1 am call’d ; my little spir a see |

?
Sits ina foggy cloud, i and stays for me [ Ewvit.
1 Witch. Come, let’s make haste ; she'll soon be
back again. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.—Fores. .4 room in the palace. En-
ter Lenox and another Lord.
Len. My former speeches have but hit your

thoughts,

Which can interpret further: only, I say,

Things have bec n strangely borne: The gracious
Duncan

Was pitied of Macbeth:—marry, he was dead :—

And the right-valiant Banquo walk’d too fate ;

Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill’d,

For Fieance fled. Men must not walk too late,

Who cannot 3 want t the thoucht, how monstrous
It was for Ma ilcolm, ant q fer Donalbain,

To kill their ‘ious father ? damned fact!
How it did erie) ve Macbeth! did he not straight,

In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep?

Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too

For ’twould have anger’d any heart ye,

To hear the men denyit. So by is

He has borne all things well: and Id » think,

That, had he Duncan’s sons under his key

(As, ‘an’t please heaven, he shall not,) they should
find

What ’twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.

But, peace !—for from broad words, and ’cause he
fail’d

His presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hear

Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell

Where he bestows himself ?

Lord, The son of Dunca:
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court; and is reecived
Of the most pious Edward with such rruce,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect: ‘Thither Macduff |
Is gone to Je the holy king, on his aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward:
That by the help of these (with Him above
Toratify the work,) we may again
Give to our table meat, sleep to our nights ;
Free from our feasts and b: anquets b idea knive S:
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours,

All which we pine for now: And this re port
Hath so exasperatc? the king, that he
Rrgperes ; for some attempt of war.
Len. Sent he to Maeduff? |<

Lord, He did: and with an absolute, Sir, not J,
The cloudy messenger turns me his back,

And hums; as who should say, You'll rue the time!
That clogs me wiih this answer. |
Len. And that well might

Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance

Fly to the court of Eneland, and unfold
His message ere he come; that a swift blessing

‘ f P ji }
His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel |
|

(1) Honours freely bestowed.
(2) lor exasperated.

|Of the ravin’d® salt-sea shark :

   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
     
  
 
   
    
  
 
   
 
 
    
 
   
  
   
     
  
 
 
  
  
    
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
     
 
 
   
 
 
   
     

 

May soon return to this our suffering country
Under a hand accurs’d !
Lord, My prayers with hin!
[Exeunt,

—>—
T
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—4 dark cave. In the middle a caul-
dron boiling. Thunder. Enter three Witches.
1 Witch, Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.
2 Witch. Thrice ; and once the hedge-pig whin’d.
3 Wilch. Harper cries:—’Tis time, ’tis time-
1] Witch. Round about the cauldron go;

9

iIn the poison’d entrails throw.——

Toad, that under coldest stone,

Days. and nights hast thirty-one

Swelter’d? venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first ?the charmed pot!

ll. Double, double toil and trouble ;

Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.
r 7 i. ere ° ' : .

2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake:
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
\dder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,

| Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,
ora charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
ll. Double, double toil and trouble,

Mire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble.
3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf;
Witches’ mummy; maw, and gulf,*

.

Root of hemlock, digg’d i’the dark ;
‘Liver of blaspheming Jew;

Gall of goat, and s slips of ye Ww,
Sliver’d : the moo n’s eclips se:

Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips

linger of “bi irth-strangled babe,
Ditel h-deliver’d by a drab,
Make the gruel thiek an d slab:

|Add the ereto a tiver’s chaudron,®

lor the ingredients of our cauldron.
All. Doub le, double toil and trouble ;

Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble.

Witch. Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
Enter Heeate, and the other three Witches.
Hlec. O, well done! I commend your pains ;
(nd every one shall share i’the gains.
And now about the cau Idron sing,
Like elves and faifies in a ring,

| Enchanting all that you put in.

SONG,
Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and grey;
Mingle, “mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.
2 Witch. By the pric king of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes :——
Op n, locks, whoever knocks.
Enter Macbeth.
Mach. hy now, you secret, black, and mid-
nicht haes ?
What is’t wa ?
; .
All. A deed without a name.

(3) This word is employed to signify that the
animal was hot, and sweating with ve nom, although
sleeping under a cold stone.

(4) The throat. (5) Ravenous. (6) Entrails,Scene I.

Mach. t ednjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe ‘er you come to know it,) answer me:
Though you untie the winds, and let the m ficht
Avainst the churche s; thouzh the yesty! waves
C onfound and swallow navigation up;_

aourgh bladed corn be lodg’d,?

down:
ie oe
Thouch s topple? on their warders’ heads :
1nou paiaces, and pyramids, do slope
Pheu ius Lo their foundations; thouch the tree-
sure
Cf vin brires canrenivint le allt her
: 6a Ss rermios tui nb S ai Loceiner,

ey n till destruction sicke n, answer me
. : -

Write} Snren!
T P }
2 | ich Dem nd.
, rr ; xT 1
S Witch Well answer.
l Witch. Say, if thov’d’st rather hear it from om

: Call them, let me sce them.
1 Witch. Pour in sow’s blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow; grease, that’s sweaten

From the murderer’s gibbet, throw
Into the flame.

lll, Come, high, or low .
Thyself, and office, defily® show.
Thunder. .4n Apparition of an armed Head ;

-Vacb. Tell me, thou unknown power,——

1 Witch. le knows thy thoucht :
Hear his speech, but say thou nought. ~

-Ipp. Macbeth! Macbetl

Macduff :
Beware the thane of Fife.—Dismiss me:—Enouch.
De scenis
«Mach. Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution,
thanks :
Thou hast harp’d* my fear aright
more :—
1 Witch. He will not be commanded:
another,
More potent than the first.

Thunder. An

Macbeth! beware

)
:—But one word

Llere’s

Apparition of a bloody Child rises.

«Ipp. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth !—
ok, Had I three ears, I’d hear thee.
Ipp. Be bloody, bold,

And resolute: laugh to scorn the power of man,
For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth
[De scends
Macb. Then live, Macduff; What need I fear of
thee ?
But yet Pll make assurance doubly sure,
And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live ;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lics,
And sleep in spite of thunder.—W hat Is this,

Thunder. .4n Apparition of a Child crowned, with

a tree in his hand, rises.

That rises like the issue of a king ;
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty ?”

. Listen, but speak not.

App. Be lion-mettled, proud ; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers arc
Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be, until

Fr rothy.
Tumble.
Seeds which have begun to sprout.

) (2) Laid flat by wind or rain.
)

)

) Adroitly.

}

£

l
3
4

(
(4
t

strip

Touch’d on a passion as a harper touches a}

and trees blown

5
| Who can impress the forest ;*
|

MACBETH, Sul

Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
‘Shall come against him. [ Descends,
d Ma cb, 7 hat will never be;
bid the tree
t-bound root ? sweet bodements! good!

tcbellious head, rise never, till the wood
yi BR} “ry 5
irn

{i ‘
i this ¢

um rise, and our high- plac’d Macbeth
il live the 7 ase of nature, pay his breath

To lume, and mortal custom.~—¥ et my heart

lhrobs to know one thing; Tell me, “(if your art

Can tell so much,) shall Ban: [uo’s ds st ue ever
Rejion in this kinedoan } {

ili, Seek to know no more.
, -Wach. I will be may 4p deny me this,

ind an eternal curse fall on yor i! Let me know :
Why sinks that cauldron? and what nojse? is this?
[ Hautboys,
1 WFRitch. Show! ;
2 Witch. Show!

3 Witch. Show!

“Ill, Show his eyes, and grieve his heart ;
Come like shadows, so depart.

Eight Kinys appear, and pass over the stage in
order; the last with a glass in his hand; Ban-
facb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo;

a n!
crown ¢ scar mine eye-balls:—-An id thy hair,

cold-baund brow, is like the first :—
\ third ts like the former sss ilthy hags!
Why do you show me this?—A{ ‘ourth? —Start, eyes!

| What! will the dine stretch out to the crack of

|

iStand aye
Come in

doom /
Another yet la \ seventh 7?—I’ll see no more :—
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more; and some 1 see,
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry
Horril ve sight !—Ay, now, I see, ’tis true ;
For the blood-bolter'd!! Be inquo ‘smiles upon me,
And | points at them for his.—What, is this so ?
| 1 itch. Ay, sir, all this is so:—But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly ?7—
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprights,'*
And show the best of our delights ;
(’}1 charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antique round ;
That this great king m: Ly kindly say,
Our duties cid his welcome pay.
[Musie. The Witches dance, and vanish,
Mach. Where are they ? Gone ?—Let this perni-
cious hour
accursed in the calendar!
without there !

}

?

Enter Lenox.

Len. What’s your grace’s will?
Mach. Saw you the wierd sisters ?

Len. No, my Jord,
Mach. Came they not by you?

Len. No, indeed, my lord.

Mach. Infected be the air whereon they ride ;
And damn’d, all those that trust them !—I did hear
The galloping of horse: Who was’t came by ?

Len. ’Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you

word,

7) The round is that part of a crown which en-
circles the head: the top is the ornament which
irises above it.

(8) Who can command the forest to serve him
like a sok at impressed ?

(9) Musi (10) The dissolution of nature.

(11) Bescesd with blood. (12) i, ¢, Spirits.RE la

  
    
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
    
    
    
   
     

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2 ERR sey tore te

 

839 MACBETH. Act lV.

Macduff is fled to England. L. Macd. Yes, he is dead ; how wilt thou do for
Mach. Fled to England? a father? —
Len. Ay, my good lord. Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband?
Macb. Time. “thou anticipat’st' my dread ex-} ZL. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any
ploits market,
The flighty purpose never is o’ertook, Son. Then you’ll buy ’em to sell again.
Unless the deed go with it: From this moment, L. Maced. foes speak’st with all thy wit; and
The very firstlings of my heart shall be yet, i’faith,
The firstlings of | my hand. And even now With wit e Soagh for thee, _
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought} Son. Was my father a traitor, mother?
and done: I. Macd. Ay, that he was.

 

The castle of Macduff I will surprise ; | Son. What is a traitor ?

Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge o’the sword | L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies,

His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls | Son. And be all traitors, that do so?

That trace? his line. No boasting like a fool ; | LL. Maced. Every one that does so, is a traitor,
This deed I’ll-do, before this purpose cool : land must be hanged.

But no more sichts !—\Where are these gentlemen?| Son. And must they all be hang’d, that swear

Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt.|and lic
| ,
e : ‘) . Wacd. Every one.
SCENE I/.—Fife. A room in Macduft’s castle. | a ae - eal a t} ?
’ . ‘ > | , s an¢ d
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rosse. i. Se a a ae

| LL. Macd. Why, the honest men.
LL. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly! Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools:

for
the land ? there are liars and swearers enough to beat the
Rosse. You must have patience, madam. Jhon stmen, and hang up them.
L. Maca, He had none L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey ?
His flight was madness: When our actions do not, | But how wilt thou do for a father?
Our fears do make us traitors.* Son. If he were dead, you’d weep for him: if' you
Rosse. You know not, |would not, it were a good sign that I should quick-
Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear. ly have. new father.
I Macd. Wisdom to leave his wife, to le: ave| ' L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk’st!
his babes; Enter a Messenger.

His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not ;
He wants the natural touch :* for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,

Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you
known,
ough in your stafe of honour I am perféct.*®

‘ }

-

Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. [ doubt, some danger does appro% ach you nearly ;

All is the fear, and nothing is the love ; If vou w il take a homely man’s advice,

As little is the wisdom, where the flight Be not found here; hence, with your little ones,

So runs against all venson, iio frieht you thus, methinks, I am too savage ;
osse. My dearest coz’, | To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,

I pray you, school yourself: But, for your h usband, | W) lich is too nigh your person. He aven prescrve

He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows vou!

The fits o’the season. 1 dare not speak much|I dare abide no longer. [Exit Messe Neer.

further : | JL. Maced. Whither should I fly ?
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors, \{ have done no harm. But I remember now

And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour|! am in this earthly world; where, to do harm,
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear; [Is often laudable: to do rood, sometime,

But float upon a wild and violent se a, Accounted dane rerous folly : W hy the Nn, alas !
Each way, and move.—I take my leave of you: |Do Ae ut up that woman ly defence,
Shall not be lone but Pll be here as vain . l‘o sav I have done no harm 1— WW hat are these
Things at the worst will cease, or clse climb up-| faces ?
ward Enter Murderers.
ae what they we pe aay —My pretty cousin, | Mur. Wh re is your husband?
1S y -
"7 sing e Reg ie ke er ene | LL. Mac I hope in no place so uns; anctified,
cd, xatnerd he is, and yet he’s fatherless.! Where suc k as thou may’st find him.
Rosse. 1am so much a fool, should I stay longer,; .4ty> LHe’s a traitor.
} viet? t
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort: | Son. Thou ly’s yu shag-ear'd vil
} Son, st, thou shag-ear'c tg
I take my leave at once. [Evit Rosse.!  jfiy \
: : won » wher. Vhat, vou ere?
L. Macd. Sirrah,® your father’s dead; | [ Stabbin hin
‘ . ; : | te nr ‘
And what will you do now? How will you live? r . S

| Young fry of treachery ?

| q i ‘ >

| Non. He has killed me, mothe r 3

‘| Run away, I pray you. [ Dies.

[Eat Lady Macduff, crying murder,
and pur sued by the Murderers.

Son. As birds do, mother.

L. Maed. What, with worms and flies

Son. With what I get, I mean: and so do the 1,

L. Macd. Poor bird! thou’? dst never fear the net
nor lime,

,

|
|

The pit-fall, nor the gin. ISCENE II,—England.—A room in the King’s
Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff. :
are not set for, | Mal. Let u
. l S seek out some solate s c
My father is not dead, for all your saying. | there 2 or ane
i} ener by taking away the opportunity. sy (4) s __ al affection.
®) Sirrah was not in our author's ti
(8) t, e. Our flight is considered as evidence of ip re Bee h. te
Gur treason,
0 (6) I am perfectly acquainted with your rank,Scene JIT,

Ww eep our sad bosoms ety pty,

Maced, Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword : and, like cood n
Bestride our downfall’n birthdom :! “Each new

morn,
New widows howl: new orphanse ry ; new sorrow
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell’d out
Like syllable of dolour. :

Mal Wh if I be lhe ve. ] lj vi 1}
What know, believe - and, what I can redres i
As I shall find I ae time to friend,? I will.

VW hat you have spoke, it may be s », per

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters o :
W as once thor tight honest: you have !loy’ well
He hath not touch’d you yet. Tam you but

something

You may deserve of him through me: and y n
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,

To appease an angry god.

Maced. I am not treacherous.

Mal. But Macbeth is
A rood and virtuous nature may recoil.

In an imperial charge.? But ’ecrave \ r) n
That which you are, mythouchts cannot transp
Angels are bright still, though the brich t fel]
Though all things foul would wear t
Prrace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Macd. I have lost 1
Mal. Perehance, even there, where I did {
my doubts.
Why in that rawness left vou wife and child
(Those prec ious motives, those strone¢ knots « f love,
Without leave-taking ?—I] pray you,
Tet not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties :—You may be ri hily just
Whatever I shall think.

Maed. B le ed, ble ( d, poor ¢ yuntry !

Great tyranny, lav thou thy LSIS sure,
For goodness dares not check thee! we hou thy
wrongs,
Thy title is affeer’d.4—Fare thee well, lord:
I would not be the villain that thou think’st
For the whole space that’s in the tyr int’s erasp
And the rich « ast to boot.
Mal. Be not off Tit led:
[ speak not as in absolute fear of you
I think, our country sinks beneath the y«
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash

Is added to her wounds: I think, with i]
There would be hands uplifted in my rig
And here, from gracious England, have I
Of goodly thousands fut, for all this,

=
S

oller

When I shall tread upon the tyrant’s head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor count y
Shall have more vices than it had before

More suffer, and more sundry w
By him that shall succeed.

Maced. W hat

Mal. It is myself I mean:
All the particulars of vice so grafted,
That, when the y shall be open’ d, bl
Will seem as pure as snow; an d the
Esteem him as a lamb, being compar’d
With my confineless harms.

Macd. Not in the
Of horrid hell, can come a devil more ¢
In evils, to top Macbeth.

Mal.

hould

(1) Birthright. (2) Befriend.
(3) i.e, A good mind may recede from
in the execution of a royal commission,

‘ poor

ays than ever,

he be

in whom I kn WY

state

legions
lamn’d

I grant him bloody,

goodn¢

)

ac k Mi iche th

as

5 The

 
 
 
  
       
      
  
  
  
   
     
  
   
   
   
   
     
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
    
     
 
 
 
  
    
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
    
    
  
 
    
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   

33d

ike

false, deceitful,

avarn lous, Fs
smacking of every sin

irrous,*
Sudde n,® Preras et

That

has a na

me: But there’s no bottom, none, =
Inmy voluptuousness : your wives, your daughters, iF
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up

cistern of my lust; and my desire

All continent impe iments would o’er-bear, ie

That did oppose my will: Better Macbeth, ol

Than such a one to reign. Pe
Maed., Boundless intemperance

 

In nature ts a tyranny; it hath been

Che untimely emptying of oe happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet

» Lake upon you what I yours: you may
ey your pleasures in a spacious plenty
And 3 m cold, the time you may s¢ o hood- wink, i
‘Ve have willing dames enough; there cannot be
I vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to creatn ledicate themselves,
‘ 1d a if UO il hi i cl

Mal With this, there grows,
In my most j!]-¢ ympos’d affection, such if
\ stanchl S avarice, that were I king, ;
{ should cut off the nobles for their lands ;
Wesire his jewels, and this other’s house:
\nd my more-having would be as a sauce
io make me hunger more; that I should forge

unjust against the good, and loyal,

UJ Vil i m for wealth.

Maced. This avarice
sticks deeper; rows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding lust: and it hath been
Che sword of our slain kings: Yet do not fear ;
Scotland hath foysons’ to fill up your will,
Of your mere own: All these are portable, .
With other graces weigh’d.

Mal, But I have none: The king-becoming

craces,

\s justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perséverance, mercy, lowliness,

Devotion, patienc

[ have no relish of

+, courage,

them ;

fortitude,
but abound

In the division of each several crime,
\cting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of eon ord into hell,
\'proar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
Maed, O Scotland! Scotland!
Mal. If such a one be fit to govern, speak
[ am as I have spoken.
Macd. Fit to govern! oa
No, not to live.—O nation miserable,

With a
Wi

&

n untitled tyrant bloody-scepter’d,
en shalt thou see thy wholesome days again ?
that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands aceurs’d,
And does blaspheme his ae ’—Thy royal father
Wa sainted king ; the queen, that bore thee,
Oftner upon her knees flan on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These e vils, thou repeat’st upon thyself,
Have banish’d me from Scotland.—O, my breast,
Thy hope ends here !

Val. Macduff, this noble passion,
C} ‘ld of integrity, hath from my soul
Wi ip’d the blac . scruples, reconcil’d my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of on ese trains hath sought to win me
[nto his power: and modest wisdom plucks me

since

Sa most

(4) Legally settled by those who had the fina)
adjudication.
(5) Lascivious,

(7) Plenty,

(6) Passionate,

(8) May be endured.-

>

Gd MAG
Krom ove#¢redutous haste:! But God above
Deal between thee and me! for even now

I put myself to thy direction, and

Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myseli,
For strangers to my nature. 1am yet
Unknown to woman; never was forsworn ;
Searccly have coveted what was mine own;
At no time broke my faith; would not betray
The devil to his fellow; and delight

No less in truth, than life: my first false speakine

Was this upon myself: What I am truly,

Is thine, and my poor country’s, to command:
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,

Uld Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,

All ready at a point, was setting forth:

Now we'll together ; And the chance, of goodness

‘BERTH, vet ih,

Mal. What is the hewWest grief?
Rosse. That of an hour’s age doth hiss the
speaker ;
Each minute teems a nety one,

Maced. How does my wile?
Rosse, Why, well.

Maced, And all my children?
Rosse. Well toa:

Macd. The tyrant has not batter’d at their peace ?

Rosse, No; they were well at peace, when I did
leave them.

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; How
goes it?

Rosse. When I came hither to transport the
tidings,

| Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour

|Of many worthy fellows that were out ;

 

Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent’|Which was to my belief witness’d the rather,
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at/lor that I saw the tyrant’s power a-foot:

once,
’Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.

Mal, Well; more anon.—Comes the king forth,| We are coming thither: gracious England hath

I pray you?

Doet. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,

That stay his cure: their malady convinces?
The great assay of art; but, atshis touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend.

‘Mal

; I thank you, doctor. [£x. Doct,

Macd. What is the disease he means ?

Mal, *Tis call’d the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king ;
Which often since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,

Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,

All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ;
Hanging a golden stamp* about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and’tis spoken,
To the succeeding royally he leaves

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,

He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.
Enter Rosse.
Macd. See, who comes here?

Mal. My countryman; but yet I know hirn not.
Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

Mal. I know him now:—Good God, betimes

remove
The means that make us strangers!
osse, Sir, Amen.
Macd, Stands Scotland where it did?
Rosse. Alas, poor country ;

Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot

Be call’d our mother, but our grave: where nothing,

But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;

Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the
air,

Are made, not mark’d ; where violent sorrow seems

A modern ecstasy ;* the dead man’s knell

Is there scarce ask’d, for who; and good men’s
lives

Expire before the flowers in their caps,

Dying, or ere they sicken.

Macd. O, relation
Too nice, and yet too true!

1) Over-hasty credulity.
2) Overpowers, subdues. }
3) The coin called an angel, ’

| Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland

| Would create soldiers, make opr women fight,

To doft® their dire distresses.

| Mal. Be it their comfort,

| Lit nt us good Siward, and ten thousand men ;

'An older, and a better soldier, none,

| 'hat Christendom gives out.

| Rosse, ’Would I could answer

| This comfort with the like! But I have words,

‘That would be howl’d out in the desert air,

Where hearing should not latch® them.

Maced. What concern they ?
The general cause? or is it a fee-grief,’

|Due to some single breast ?

| Rosse. No mind, that’s honest,

‘Lut in it shares some wo; though the main part

|\Pertains to you alone.

Maced. If it be mine,
ixeep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
Rosse, Let not your ears despise my tongue for

re ever, :

| Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound,
i That ever yet they heard.

| AMaed. Humph! I guess at it.

| tosse. Your castle is surpris’d; your wife, and
| babes,

|Savagely slaughter’d: to relate the manner,

| Were, on the quarry® of these murder’ d deer,

| To add the death of you.

| JAMal., Merciful heaven !—
What, man! ne’er pull your hat upon your brows -
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak,
Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

| Maed. My children too ?

|

 

_ Ro $e. Wite, children, servants, all
fonat could he found,

Maced. And I must be from thence!
My wife kill’d too ?

Rosse. I have said.

Mal. Be comforted :

Iet’s make us med’cines of our great reveng e,
10 cure this deadly grief.
_wilacd. Het as NO children. —All my pre tty ones ?
Did you say, all ?—O, hell-kite !—Af]!
r} 3 a . ; . :
What, all my pretty chickens, and their cam,
|At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.

x si ;
| Macd. a I shall do
‘But I must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things we

) .

,
re,
(4) Common distress of mind. (5) Put of

| (6) Catch. (7) A grief that has 2 single owner.
| (8) The game after it is killed,7. Xs J

Reeve i, i VEAL

bye ‘ ;

Phat were most precious to ie. — Di
on,

And would not take their part? Sinful Maeduf

They were all struck

i heaven look

K for thee! naught that | am,
Not for thei ‘Ir own deme rits, but for min ;
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them

now!

Wal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let
grief ;
Convert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrave it.
Maced. O, I could play the woman with min
eyes,

And braggart with my tonguc
Cut short. all inter muasion a.
Bring thou this fiend of Scot}.
W ithin my sword’s length set
Heaven forgive him too!

‘—But, gentle heaven,
it to front,

ind, and mys If’:

a

Ul

him he ’se

Mal. This tune goes manly,
Come, go we to the kin our power is re dy ;
Our lac k is nothing et: our leave: Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. “Ri ceive what cheer you

may ;

The night is long, that never finds the d ty. [Exe

—>———.
ACL V.

SCENE I.—Dunsi: nane. yn room ti the ( tl
Enter a Doctor of Phys , and a wailing Gen-
tlewoman.

Doct. I have two nights watched with you, but

can perceive no truth in your report. When was it

she last walked 7
Gent. Since his maj sty

have seen her rise from her bed. thr

le irow her night-

gown upon her, unlock her closet, tale forth p Lper,
fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it. and
again return to bed; yet al! this while in a1
fast sleep.

Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receiv
at once the benefit of sle: p, and do the eflec of
watching.—In this slumbry acitati besides he
walking, and other actual performances, what,
any time, have you heard her say?

Gent. That, sir, which I will not re port after her.

Doct. You may, to me; and ’tis most meet vou
should.

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, havine 1
witness to confirm my speech.

Enter Lady Macbeth, with at pe

Lo you, here she ec mes! This is he very guise
and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her: stand
close.

Doct. How came she by that light?

Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has licht by
her continually; ’tis her command.

Doct. You see, her eyes are open,

Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she
rubs her hands.

Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to

seem thus washing her hands: I have known her
continue in this a quarter of an hour.
Lady M. Yet here’s a spot.

Doct. Hark, she speaks: I will down what
comes from her, to salisly my remembrance the
more strongly.

Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One;

Two; Why, then’ tis time to do’t :—Hell is murky !?

(1) Allpause. (2) Dark, (3) Confounded. |

| Within the belt of rule.

  
 
 
 
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
     
  
   
    
   
    
    
    
  
 
   
      
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
    
   
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
       
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
      
   
   
    
     
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  

TY)
REY due
and afear’d? What
we fear who knows it, whe n none can call cut
power to account ?—Yct who would have thought
‘ne old man to have had so much blood in him ?

Do ‘, Do vou mark pee ? AE
Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife ; Where =
is she now ?—What. vil these hands ne’er be

— fi i, my lord, fe ! a soldier,
inee d

clean?—No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that:
you mar all with this starting.
Doct. Go to, go to; you have known what you

should not.
Gent, She ]
sure of that:
Lady JA

fume

has spoke what she should not, I am
Lleaven knows what she has known.
I. THere’s the smell of the blood still: all

3 of kahit will not sweeten this little
hund. Oh! oh! oh!

Whata

oO
i pel

vh is there!

si lhe heart is sorely
I would not h:
iN, for the die oft t
D cl, \\ ( I,
Gent. Pr:

a t be,
Doct. This disease is be yond my practice: Yet
I have

known those which have walked in their
sleep, who have died holily in their beds.

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night-
zown; look not so p pale :—I te i you yetagain, Ban-

ive
}
He

such a heart in my bo-
whole body.

ee

,

nity
We “a

God,

sir.

quo’s buric d; he cannot come out of his grave,

Doct. ven so?

Ladi a To bed, to bed; there’s knocking at
the gate. yom , come, come, come, give me your
hand wh hat’s done cannot be undone : To bed,
to bed. to bed. [ Eat Lady Maebeth.

Doct. Will she go now to bed ?

Grent. Directly.

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural

deeds

Do breed unnatural troubles: Infeeted minds

lo their deaf pillows will discharge their scerets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician,—
‘Sod, God, foreive us v ! Look after her ;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
\nd still keep eves upon her :—So, good night :
\iy mind she has mated,® and amaz’d my sizht ;
I thin i { C not peak,
Gent Good night, good doctor.
. [Exeunt,
SCENE II. country near Dunsinane. Ene
ler, wtth drum and colours, Menteth, Cathness,
Angu . Len A, and Soldiers. t
Ment. The English power is near, led on by

Vii ae

ate uncle Siwart kt and the wood Maeduff.
Revenges burn in them: for their dear causes
Wo at |, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Ixcite ion mortified man.‘
Ane. Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them : th: én wayare they coming.
Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his
brother
Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
Of all the gentry; there is Siward’s son,
{nd many unrough’ youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.

M nt. What does the tyrant?
Cath, Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
Some say, he’s mad; others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper’ d cause

Ang.
(4

Now does he feel

) A religious; an ascetic, (5) Unbearded,SS Reka

y eee oo a

 

396 MACBETH. Act ¥,

His secret murders sticking on his hands ;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-bre ach 3
Those he commands, move only imcommand,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe
Upon a dwartlish thief.

Ment. Who then shall blame
His pester’d senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there ?

Cath. Well, march we on,
To give obedience where ’lis truly ow’d:
Meet we the medicin! of the sickly weal ;
And with him pour we, in our country’s purge,
ach drop of us.

Len. Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovercien flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam.

Ea eunt rarchin os

SCENE IlJ.—Dunsinane. 7 room in the castle.
Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and aifen ts
Macb. Bring me no more reports; Ict them fl
all;
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsina:
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm ?

Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know

All mortal consequents, pronounc’d me thus:

Fear nat, Macbeth ; no man, that’s born of woman,

Shall e’er have power on thee.——Then fly, false
thanes,

And mingle with the Enelish epicures :

The mind I sway by, and the heart [I 1
Shall never sagg? with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Enter a Se rvant.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fae’d loon ;
Where got’st thou that goose-look ?
Serv. There is ten thousand-——
Mach. Geese, villain
Serv. Soldic rs. sir.
Mach. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver’d boy. What soldiers, patch ?4
Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face ?
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face henee.—Seyton!—I am
sick at heart,
When I behold—Seyion, I say !—This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have liv’d long enough: my way of life
Is fall’n into the sear,® the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,

T must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, moath-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.
Seyton !——

Enter Seyton.

Sey, What is your gracious pleasure ?
Macb. What news more ?
Sey. All is confirm’d, my lord, which was re-

ported.

Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be

hack’d.

Give me my armour.
Sey. Tis not needed yet.
Macb. I'll put it on.

Send out more horses, skirr® the country round;

Hang those that talk of fear.—Give me mine ar-|

mour.——

1) The physician. (2) Sink. (3) Base fellow,
4) An appellation of contempt, (5) Dry,

‘How does your patient, doctor ?

| Doet. __ Not so sick, my Jord,
|As she is troubled with thick«coming fancies,
'That keep her from her rest.

|_, Mach. Cure her of that:
‘Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d ;
'Pluek from the memory a rooted sorrow ;
'Raze out the written troubles of the brain ;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart ?

Doct. Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.

Mach. Throw physic to the dogs, PIlnone of it.—
Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff:—
Seyton, send out.—Doctor, the thanes fly from me:—
Come, sir, despatch :—If thou could’st, doctor, cast

|
}

.
lhe water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
ee ld upplaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.—Pull’t off, I say.—
What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,
\ !

VVould scour these Lenelish nence ?—Hearest thou

Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
vial us hear something,

Bring it after me.——
I will not be afraid of death and bane,

‘ill Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [ Exit.
Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here. [ Exit.
SCENE IV.—Country near Dunsinane:  weod
in view. Enter, with drum and colours, Mal-
colm, Old Siward and his Son, Macduff, Men-
teth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox, Rosse, and Sol-

diers, marching,
Mal. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand

inat chambe rs will be sale.
Ment. We doubt it nothing.
iw. What wood is this before us?
Ment. The wood of Birnam.

Mal. Let every soldier hew him down a bough,
And bear’t before him; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
[err in report of us.

Sold. It shall be done,

Stw. We learn no other, but the confident*tyrant
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and willendure
Our setting down befor’t.

Mal. ’Tis his main hope:
‘or where there is advantage to be given,

* have given him the revolt;

And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too. '

Macd, Let our just censure
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.

Siw. The time approaches,
That will with due decision make us know
What we shall say we have, and what we owe,
Thoucht 5 Sp culative, their unsure hopes relate ;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate :*
Towards which, advance the war.

| Exreunt, marching

> } cs ? 1
Both more and iess

SCENE V.—Dunsinane. Within the castle, Ey,
| ter, with drums and colowrs, Macbeth, Sevto!
i} and Soldiers. :

|
Mach. Hang out our banners on the outwar
Walls ;

(6) Scour. (7) i e, Greater and less,

|
| (6)
| (8) Determine,Seene VI, VL.

MACBETH. BS?

The cry is still, The y come: Our ca tl ’s strencth| Do we but find the tyrant’s power to-night,
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lic | Let us be beaten, if we « cannot fight.
Till famine, and the ague, eat them up

Were thev not fore’d with thesé that should be ov
We might have met the m dareful

, beard to beard, | Th
And beat them backward home. What is that noise?
[4 cry withi + ay women.

Sey, It is the cry of women, my good lo Ls

Macb. I have almost forgot the tast

CENE VIL—The same.

/Wacd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them

all breath,

se clamorous har bingers of blood and death.
[Exeunt. Alarums continued.

nother part of the

te of fi rm: 4 plain. Enter Macbeth,

The time has bee ny my senses would hay vd |
To hear a ni: ghi t-shriel <j and my fell hai Mach. They have tie d me toa stake ; Leannot fly,
Would at a dis mal treatise rouse, and stir but, bear-like, I must fight the course. —What’s he,
As life were in’t: I have supp ‘d full with horrors;| (hat was not born of 1 woman? Such a one
Direness, familiar to my slau; htrou s thoughts, \m I to fear, or none.
Cannot once start me.—Wherefore was | it cry ? Enter Young Siward.

Sey. The queen, my lord, is de 1. | Yo. Siw. What is thy ot

Macb. She should have died hereafter ; | Mach. : —Phalifit'beaivata’tg Badia:
There would have been a ome > lor such a word.— i C1852 ;
Tot morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow Yo. Sit. a ; though thou call’st thyself'a hot-

. . cer hi ne
S a OTrued | iC. AT wal

And all ¢ our yi sei iys have lighted fools | j ea TY i] My Pome | Macha
The way to dusty death. Out out, brief candle | Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce

Life’s but a w: king shadow: a poor play

a ti le

i prayer, Viore hateful to mine ear
That struts and frets his hour upon the sta os Wee tele
And.then is heard i Cineialn Lach, No, nor more fearful.
And then is heard no more: it is a tal } Siw. Thou liest :bhorred tyrant: ¥ ith mi
. oa: ; if 0. Siw. Thor 7 OD frrant ; w
old by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Denies ti J 7 Y
Signifying nothing. —— Pity in Ret speak’st ;
ad i it : La Lm Ole :
Enter a Messenger. [Zhey fight, and Young Srward is slain.

Thou com’st to use thy tongue ; thy story quickly. | B

Mess. Gracious my lord, R
I shall report that which I say I s
But know not how to do it.

-Macb. Well. - ‘sé
Mess. As I did stand my \ upon
I look’d toward Birnam, and I

The wood began to move.

Mach. Lj r, and lave ! a

Mess, Let me endure 1
Within this three mile may \
}] say, a moving grove.

Maced. If thou
U pon the next tres hal
Till famine cling? thee: if t
I care not if thou dost | I
I pull in resolution: an i
To doubt the equivocation of
That lies like truth: Fear not, till J
Deo come to Dunsinane -— ad now

Comes toward Duns inane.—Arm, arm, ‘
If this, which he avouches, d

There is nor flying hence, nor tarryin

I ’gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate o’the world we

Ring the alarum bell :—Blo. nd !« rac!

At least we'll die with harne on 1

‘Thou wast born of woman.

sul swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,

vd by man that’s ofa woman born. [Ez.
/ilarums. Enter Macduff.
‘hat way the noise is:—Tyrant, show

lain, and with no stroke of mine,
d children’s ghosts will haunt me still.

at wretched ke rnes,* whose arms

: the ir staves; eithe r thou, Macbeth,
rd, with an unbatter’d edge,
iundeeded. There thou should’st be;
tL clatter, one of greatest note
:* Let me find him, fortune !
not. [Exit. Alarum.
‘Malcolm and Old Siward.

Thi iy, my lord ;—the castle’s gently

ple on both sides do fight ;
s do bravely in the war ;
iiself professes yours,

}
LO GO.

L Bes ae e have met with foes >

Enter, sir, the castle.
[Exeunt. Alarum.
Re-enter Macbeth.

[Lveunt.| Mach. Why should] play the Roman fool, and

SCENE a Sti ° Al nlain bi , Phe CaS-

tle. Enter, nue ore ns and coiours, Malcolm. |p,
Old Siward, ie , &c. and their army, with

boughs.
Mal. Nownear enough ; your leavy screen
down,
And show like those you are :—You, worthy uncle, |!
Shall, with my cousin, your right-n me on,
Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff, and we, |
Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order.
Siw. Fare you well.—

y

Thai

.
—
—

(1) Skin, (2) Shrivel. (3) Armour,

lach. Thou loosest la

aie

On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
better upon them.

Re-enter Macduff,

Turn, hell-hound, turn.
». Of all men else I have avoided thee : :

1

et thee back, my soul is too much charg’d
}

th blood of thine already,
M eg I have no words,

voice is in my sword; thou bloodier villain
1 terms can give thee out ! [ They y fight.

our;
Soldiers,

(5) Reported with clamour,
2Ube

me ar
ketene

Ne es

 

 

 

&

{ i ' .
As easy Inay’st thou the & ‘reheliant dirt
With thy keen sword imy ess, as make me bleed :
Let fall thy blade on vulnc -able crests ;
I bear a charmed life, whic 1 must not yield
To one of woman born.

Maced. Despair thy charm ;
And let the angel, whom t: 5u still hast serv’d,
Tell thee, Macduff was fren his mother’s womb
Untimely ripp’d.

Mach. Accursed be that ongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow’d my bette part of man!

And be these juggling fienc.s; no more beliey’d,
That palter? with us in a duble sense ;

That keep the word of prom ise to our ear,

And break it to our hope.—-:’Il not fight with thee.

Macd. Then yield thee, coward,

And live to be the show and gaze o’the time.
We'll have thee, as our rare monsters are,
Painted upon a pole; and underwrit,

Here may you see the tyrani

Macb. Phil not yield,

To kiss the ground before young Malcolm’s feet,

And to be baited with the rebble’s curse.

Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,

And thou oppos’d, being of no woman born,

Yet I will try the last: Before my body

I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff;

And damn’d be him that first vries, Hold, enough.
[Exeunt, fighting.

Retreat. Flourish. Re-en'er, with drwn and
colours, Malcolm, Old Siward, Rosse, Lenox,
Angus, Cathness, Menteth, and soldiers,

Mal. I would, the friends we miss were safe ar-|

riv’d.

Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these, I see,

So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
Mal. Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier’s|

debt :
Fe only liv’d but till he was a man;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm’d
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.
Siw. Then he is dead ?

Rosse. Ay, and brought off t :e field: your cause}

of sorrow
Must not be measur’d by his w orth, for then
It hath no end.

Siw. Had he his l|_urts before ?
Rosse. Aye, on the front.
Sito. Why then, G d’s soldier be he!

Had I as many sons as I have hv irs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
A. 1 s0 his knell is knoll’d.

(1) The air, which cannot be cut. (2) Shuffle.

  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
   
   

    

Sid MACBETH, Met F,

Mal, He's worth mote sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.
Siw. He’s worth no more ;

They say, he parted well, and paid his score:
So, God be with him !—Here comes newer comfort.

Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth’s head on a pole.

Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold,
where stands
The usurper’s cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compass’d with thy kingdom’s pearl,’
|That speak my salutation in their minds ;
|Whose voices I desire aloud with mine,—
|Hail, king of Scotland!
All. King of Scotland, hail!
[ Flourish.
Mal. We shall not spend a large expense of time,
‘Before we reckon with your several loves,
‘And make us even with you. My thanes and kins-
men,
| Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
iIn such an honour nam’d. What’s more to do,
|\Which would be planted newly with the time,—
|As calling home our exil’d friends abroad,
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny ;
'Producing forth the cruel ministers
\Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen ;
| Who, as ’tis thought, by self and violent hands
| Took off her life ;—This, and what needful else
| That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
|We will perform in measure, time, and place:
‘So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
| Whom we invite to see us crown’d at Scone.

[ Flourish. Exeunt.

 

—<——

This play is deservedly celebrated for the pro-
\priety of its fiction, and solemnity, grandeur, and
ivariety of its action ; but it has no nice discrimina-
jtions of character; the events are too great to ad-
mit the influence of particular dispositions, ard the
course of the action necessarily determines the con-
iduct of the agents. ,

The danger of ambition is well described: and
I know not whether it may not be said, in defence
\of some parts which now seem improbable, that
in Shakspeare’s time it was necessary to warn cre-
dulity against vain and illusive predictions.

| The passions are directed to their true end. Lady
|Macbeth is merely detested ; and though the cou-
jrage of Macbeth preserves some esteem, yet every
jreader rejoices at his fall. : ‘

JOHNSON,

| (3) The kingdom’s wealth or ornament.PERSONS REPRESENTED.

King John. Lewis, the daup! hin,

Prince He ury, his son ; aflerward King Henry HI. | Arch-duke of Austria.

Arthur, duke of Bretagne, son of Geffrey, late duke| Cardinal Pand ulph, the pope’s legate,
of Bretagne, lhe elder brother of King Melun, a French lor d.

John, Chatillon, ambassador from France to King John.
Willi im MM irshall earl fi Pe siege é
, ° * 7 nr .
(ie flrey l itz-P. ter, Curt ¢ of Es Ser, f justi iar y Lt linor, the w tdon of King Fe ary I, and mothe of
: of Eneland King John.
Baa Hh OE . ‘ ee / f }
William Longsword, earl f Salisbury. oe ag hte a lo. po _s kei ‘astil d
. . VY wir 4
Robert Bigot, earl of Ni rfe alk. lanch, daughter to Alphonso, ing of Castile, an
: bei: niece lo King John.
Hubert de burgh, chamberlain to the king.
“9a at ‘qt ae ky Lady Fauleonbridge, mother to the bastard, and
Robert aulcoubralze, on of Sir Robert Faulcon-
bal . Robert Faulconbridge.
;
Philip Fauleoubr idy hati }- rotner, baslard son Lord ; ladies, cilizens of Ingiers, sheriff, heralds,
r ’ f vey! the ; $i. " ;
fo King Ric sara tn ze rst Cfftcers, soldiers, messengers, and other altend-
James Gurney, servant to Lady Faulcon! idrre, ants.

Peter ol Pomire lL, a pro} hel.

Scene, somelimes in England, and sometimes in
Philip, k ing of Franc (. ’ France.

at 7 |The thunder of my cannon shall be heard:
So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wr: ath,
SCENE I.—Northampton. 4 room of state in} And sullen presage of your own decay.—
the palace. Enter hing John, Queen l:linor,! An honourable conduct lét him have :—
Pembroke, Essex, Salisbury, and others, with’ Pp, mbroke, look to’t: Farewell, Chatillon.

Chatillon. | [|Exveunt Chi itillon and Pembroke.
Ki Johan Eli. What now, my son? have I not ever said,
Seek « bite
a How that ambitious Constance would not cease,
4YOW, say, Chatillon, what would France with Till she had kindled France, and all the world,
us? Upon the right and party of her son?
Chat. Thus, afler greeting, speaks the king of This might have been preve nted, and made whole,
France With very easy arguments of love;
In my behaviour,' to the majesty Which now the manage? of two kingdoms must
The borrow’d majesty of England here. With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.
Eli. A slranve be einning _— -b rrow’d mayest ! hk. J An. Our strong posse ssion, and our right
Zz. John. Sil nce, rood mother - he ar ue eine ne lor us. :
hacst Eli. Your strong possession, much more than
Chat. Philip of France, in richt and true behall your right ;
Of thy deceased brother Geltlrey’s son, Or else it must go wrong with you, and me:
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim So much my conscience whispers in your ear;
To this fair island, and the territorics - Which none but heaven, and you, and I, shall hear.
TT. Iraland. Poictiers nines Tntinaten gd ae
lo ire an Pou . oe An, My 2 OUraIne, Main Enter the Sheriff of Northa mplonshire, who whis-
Desiring thee to ley aside the sword, s Esse
Which sways usurpingly | several titles; pert Eanes
or ee mé into Young Atthurs hana” Essex, My liewc, here is the strangest controversy,
I} DUL WIC Same ito y ay Lint | shay .
Thy sleet: deat hall wre | kdteweliots ( ome from the country to be judg’d by you,
i} nHnepnew, ana FiIene re tt SOVOTCIOT).

{
ae ’ + ~etre9 IT ‘ S » the »
’ John. What follows. if we disallow of this hat ere | heard: Shall I produee the men aq
Chat The vroidscontrol of ferce and bloody wie K. John. Let them approach.— —_ [ Ewit Sheriff.
hat, she proucconmtroi ort ae ae » nhhinks 4 ir priories, shi ay
To enfor ce these rignts » forernbiv withheld. Out abbies, and oul priories, hall pay

: | AULT CERILY WILihit i
| have we war for war. ond blood
Kk. ey . Here have we war for war, and blood Re-enter Sheriff, with Robert Fauleonbridge, and
1 !
r blood : Philip, his bastard brother.
Sacin nt for controlment: so answer France.

Chat. Then take my king’s defiance from my) This expedition’s charge.—What men are you ?

mouth, Bast. Your taithful subject I, a gentlem: un,
The furthest limit of my embassy. Born in Noi thi imptonshire ; and eldest son,
K, John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in| As I suppose, to Robert Faule onbridge ;
peace : \ soldier, by ‘the honour-giving hand
$e thou as lightning in the eyes of France ; Of Ce ur-de-lion knighted i in the field,
For ere thou canst report I will be there, | Kk, John. What art thou?

(1) In the manner I now do, (2) Conduct, administration,340) KING

Rob. The son and heir to that same Fauleon-
bridge,

K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir ?

You came not of one mother then, it seems.

Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty king,
That is well known; and, as I think, one father :
But, for the certain knowle dge of that truth,

J put you o’er to heaven, and to my mother ;
Of that I doubt, as all m 1en’s children mi Ly.
Eli, Out on ’thee , rude man! thou dost shame
thy mother,
And wound her honour with this difidence.

Bast. I, madam? no, I have no reason for it;
That is my brother’s plea, and none of mine ;

The which if he can prove, ’a pops me out

 

Sut, that Iam as well begot, my liege,

(Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!)

Compare our faces, and be judge yourself.

If old sir Robert did beget us both,

a were our father, and this son like

, old sir Robert, father, on my knee

7 vive heaven thanks, I was not like to thee.

‘K. John. Why, what a madea p hath heaven le nt}

|

i
him ;—

i

us here !
Rl Eli. He hath a trick? of Ceeur-de-lion’s face,
i The accent of his tongue aflecteth him:

Do you not read some tokens of my son
In the large composition of this man ?

K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his part
And finds them perfect Richard.——Sirrah, spe:
What doth move youto claim your brother’s “ery

Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my father :
With that half-face would he have all my land: |
A half-fae’d groat five hundred pound a year!

Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father r liv’d
Your brother did e mploy my father much;

Bast. Well, sir, by this you ¢ annot get my ty lend:
Your tale must be, how he e: mploy’d my mother. |

Rob. And once de sspatch’d him in an emb: ISS)
To Germany, there, with the emperor,
To treat of hich affairs touc hing that
The advantage of his absence took the king,
And in the mean time sojourn’d at my father’s
Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak:
But truth is truth; large lengths of seas
Between my father and my mother lay
(As I have heard my father speak himself, )
When this same lusty gentleman was got.
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath’d
His lands to me; and took it, on his death,
That this, my mother’s son, was none
And, if he were, he came into the ld
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time.
Then, good my liege, let me have W hat is mine,
My father’s land, as was my father’s will.

K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate :
¥ our father’ S wife did, after wedlock, bear him:
And, if she did play false, the fault was |
Which fault lies on the hazards of all ee bands
That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother,
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son,
Had of your father claim’d this son for his ?

5} Whether, (2) Trace, outline,
Dignity of appearance,

i

}

,

9
i

)
AK

time

ann | 2
ana SNOFres

ye
i

7
¥ t

by

of his ;
worl /

ers

Ss *

r
|

\My {

iV\ ne

\A foot of honour be
>
But

    

Act A

In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept

This ci alf, bred from his cow, from all the world ;

In sooth, ‘he might: the n, if he were my brother’s,

My brother might not claim him; nor your father,

Being none of his, refuse him: T his concludes,—

My n othe ’s son did get your father’s heir ;

Your father’s heir must have your father’s land.
Rob. Sha i then my father’s will be of no force,

To dispossess that child which is not his?

| Bast. Ofno more force to dispossess me,

{Than was his will to get me, as I think,
ili. Whether hadst thou rather,—be a Faulcon

bridge,
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land ;
;Or the reputed son of Cceur-de-lion,

JOHN.

sir,

 

; At least from fair five hundred pound a year ; |Lord of thy presence,’ and no land beside?

: Heaven guard my mother’s honour, and my land!| ast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
f] K. John. A good blunt fellow:—Why, being|And I had his, sir Robert his, like him ;

4} younger born, |And if my legs were two such riding-rods,

ie Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ? My arms such eel-skins stufPfd; my face so thin,
tH Bust. 1 know not why, except to get the land. /That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose,

Me But once he slander’d me with bastardy : Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthings
ii But whe’r! I be as true begot, or no, roes !

il That still I lay upon my mother’s head ; (nd, to his shape, were heir to all this land,

5

Would I might never stir from off this place,

I’d give it every foot to have this face ;
\I would not be sir Nob‘ in any case.
Eli. I like thee well; Wilt thou forsake thy for-
tune,

'Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me ?

I am a soldier, and now bound to F

Ba st,

rance,
Brother, take you my land, Pll take my
chance
Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year
Yet sell your face for five pence, a tis Sekt
|Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.
Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
Bast Ours give our betters way.

lin.

le

}
it

.

Jol

a

W} bicki
oo. eo

) \

ip, Mm

reyicily
0d old sir

Lami
begun;
son.

ne whose

> my name

ld,
> 1c

Robe SI
From hencefet
form thou bi
lown Phi

j19)
litle
ar Sus

great;
er,
:
your hand ;

rave

give me

> at
‘ +}
cLidlh

honot e..

. me gave land:

ht or ‘avy,
S away.
!

ble

in Ty
Bli The
am thy

Vow

re nel

ill me

sia not

yery

I grandame,

A SO,

by truth:

ttle from

~, i x Ise over

vy, must
.

hatch:

walk by night;

en do catch:
well shot :

“at 1
OV Thi

Lon
ial
, HOWRVE
re Of x } . a.
ar ofl, well won is

now hast thou

;
n d

‘

thee a landed ’squire.—
Richard - we must speed
for itis more than need.

1; Good fortune come

got i’the way of honesty.

[Exeunt all but the Bastard.

‘than I was;

many a many foot of land the worse.

Well, now can I make any Joana lady :———

Good den,® sir Richard ,— God-a- mercy, fellow ;—

, madam, end come,
or France, for France:

’ ‘ ‘} a.
Bast. Brother, adic

For thou wast

LO thee!

;
LTC!

(4) Robert, (5) Good evening,Scene I, KING JOHN. 341
And if his name be Geor: re, Pll call } him Pet |But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son ;
For new-made honour doth forget men’s ee S} L have disclaim’d sir Robert, and my land ;

is too respective,’ and too sociable, |Legitimation, name, and all is gone:
For your conversion.2 Now your tr ave ller, Then, good my mothe ‘ry let me know my father ;
He and his tooth- -pick at my worship’s mess ; Some prop er mi re I hope; Who was it, mother ?
And when my knight ly stomach is suffic’d Lady F. Has ‘thou denied thyself a Faulcon-

9

 

Why t en I suck my teeth, and catechise bridge ?
nm - _ a mi an of countrie neh e dear sir, | Bast. As fi fithfully as I deny the devil.
lus, leaniug on mine elbow, I begin,) | Lady F. King Richard Cceur-de-lion was thy
is hall beseech you—That is question now : father -
ane then oony s ans : r like an \BC-book 4. By long and ve he ment suit I was sedue’d
4 . . pode at y wa best comman. t; l'o m ike room tor him in my husband’s bed:
“at your employment ; at your service, sir :—— Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge !
Vo sir, says queshon, J, si et *, al yours : Thou art the issue of m y dear offence,
yw 80, ere answer knows what question would Which was so strong ‘ly urg’d, past my defence.
Saving in dialogue of c compliment; | Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
And talking of th » All , and Apennines, Madam, [ woul t not wish 8 better father.
ihe Pyrenean, and the river Po,) Some sins do bear their privilege on earth,
lt dra ws towards supp rin conclusion so. And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly :
put this is worshipful society, Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,—
And fits the mounting spirit, like myself: Subjected tribute to commanding love,—
For he is but a bastard to the time, \gainst whose fury and unmatched force
That doth not smack of observation The awless lion could not wage the fight,
(And so am J, whether I smack, or no;) Nor keep his princely heart from Richard’s hand.
And not alone in habit and device. lie, that perforce robs lions, of their hearts,
[.xterior form, outward accoutrement : May easily win a woman’s, Ay, my mother,
But from the inward motion to deliver With all my heart I thank thee for my fat} ier!
Sweet, sweet, swe t poison for thy ’s tooth: Who lives nd dnvas bal say, thou didst not well
Which, though I 1 yt | tise to deceive, When | wa beet his soul to hell.
Yet, to avoid d ceil, We n to learn: Come, lady, I wi ll show thee to my kin ;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising.— And they shx il sey; Whee Richard me begot,
But who comes in such haste, in riding robes ? If thou had’st said him nay, it had been sin:
VN hal woman-post is this? hath she no husband, Who says it was, he lies ; I say, twas not. [Eve.
That will take pains to blow a horn before her ?
a
Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney.
O me! it is my mother :—How now, good lady? Atr ta
} re . . ss her ; eoanrt « } «ef uw 7
pee Where is that slave, thy brother? where| SC<V2 J-—Prance. Before the walls of An-
‘ = *? : 4 ’ ; ; ’ riers. BE) fer, on one stde, the Archduke of Aus-
That h Ids in chase mine honour up and down? eg ang forces; on the other, Philip, King of
. | dadet agg ee eee el rranee, and forces ; Lewis, Constance, Arthur
Bast. My brother Robert? old sir Robert’s son and alten dade / , : ;
Colbrand the giant, th i@ mighty man? eer Tes
Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so? Lew. Before Angi ‘rs well met, brave Austria.—
Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend| Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,
boy, Richard, that re bb’ ms the lion of his heart,
Sir Robert’s son: Why scorn’st thou at sir Robert?| Ai | foug ht the holy wars in Palestine,
He is sir Robert's son ; and so art thou. yv this brave duke came early to his grave;
Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a} And, for amends to his aaalaian
vhile ? \t our importance,’ hither is he come,
Gur. Good leave, good UMP © To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
Bast. Philip ? rrow !—James,| And to rebuke the usurpation
There’s toys® abroad; anon I’ il tell thee more. Of thy un: ane uncle, English . sons , i
i [Exit Gurney.| E nbrac him, love him, give him weleeme hither,
Madam, I was not old sir Robert’s son : , Irth. God sh: ill forgive youCo ur-de-lion’s death,
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me The rather, that you give his offspring life,
Upon Good-Friday, and ne’er broke his fast: Shadowing their right under your wings of war:
Sir Robert could do well; Marry (to confess!) | give you welcome with a powerless hand,
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it; But with a heart full of unstained love:
We know his handy-work :-—Therefore, good| Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke,
mother, : Lew. Anoble boy! Who would not do thee right ?
To whom am I beholden for these limbs? | lust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,

Sir Robert never holp to make this li 7, As se al to this indenture of my love;
Lady F. Hast thouconspired with thy brother too, | That to my home I will no more return,
That for thine own gain should’st defend mine} Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
honour ? , Together with that pale, that w hite- fae’d shore,
\What means this scorn, thou most untoward kni ive ?| | Whose foot s spurns back the ocean’s roaring tides,
Bast. Knig ht, knight, good mother,—Basilis sco-| And coops from other lands her isl: inders,
like | Eve n till that England, hedg’d in with the main,
What! lam ‘dubb’d ; I have it on my shoulder. i That water-walled bulwark, still secure

(6) A character in an old drama, called Solimar
and Perseda,
(7) Importunity.

(1) Respectable. (2) Change of condition.
(3) My travelled fop. (4) Catechism.
(5) Idle reportsoe2s . ae oT
. pnt een eee : h
And RTE RR ETRE SR

   
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
 
   
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
    

342 KING JOHN. Act I.
And confident from foreign purposes, !Whiles we, God’s wrathful agent, do correct
Even till that utmost corner of the west | Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven .
Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy, | K. Phi. Peace beto England; if that war return
Will I not think of home, but follow arms. |From France to England, there to live in peace!
Const. O, take his mother’s thanks, a widow’s| England we love ; and, for that England’s sake,
thanks, ‘With burden of our armour here we sweat:
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength, |This toil of ours should be a w ork of thine ;
To make a more requital to your love. But thou from loving England art so far,
Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift!That thou hast under-wrought® his lawful king,
their swords Cut off the sequence® of posterity,

In such a just and charitable war. Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
K. Phi. Well then, to work: our cannon shall;Upon the maiden virtuc of the crown,

be bent Look here upon thy brother Gefirey’s face ;—

Against the brows of this resisting town.—— These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his:
Call for our chiefest men of discipline, This little abstract doth contain that large,
To cull the plots of best advantages :'— Which died in Geilrey ; and the hand of time
We'll lay before this town our royal bones, Shall draw this brief? into as huge a volume.
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen’s blood, |That Ge ffrey was thy elder brother born, |
But we will make it subject to this boy. And this his son; England was Geffrey’s right,

Const. Stay for an answer Lo your embassy, And this is Gefirey’s: In the name of Ged,
Lest unadvis’d you stain your swords with blood :| How comes it then, that thou art call’d a king,
My lord Chatillon may from England bring When living blood doth in these temples beat, —
That right in peace, which here we urge in war; | Which owe the crown that thou o’er-masierest?
And then we shall repent each drop of blood, | Kk. John. From whom hast thou this great com-

) mission, France,
: To draw my answer from thy articles ?
Enter Chatillon. | kK. Phi. From that supernal® judge, that stirs
rood thoughts ;
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right.
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy:
Under whose warrant, Ll impeach thy wrong ;
‘And, by whose help, I mean to chastise it.
| K. John, Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phi. Excuse ; it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France ?
Const. Let me make answer ;—thy usurping son.
Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king ;
That thou may’st be a queen, and check the world !
Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true,
As thine was to thy husband: and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey,
Than thou and John in manners; being as like,
As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think,
His father never was so true begot ;
It cannot be, an if thoa wert his mother.
Eli. There’s a good mother, boy, that blots thy
father.
| Const. There’s a good grandam, boy, that

That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.

K. Phi. A wonder, lady !—lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arriv’d.—

What England says, say briefly, gentle lord,
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.

Chat. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,

Hath put himself in arms ; the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I:

His marches are expedient? to this town,

His forces strong, his soldiers confident.

With him along is come the mother-queen,

An Até,? stirring him to blood and strife ;

With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain ;
With them a bastard of the king deceas’d:

And all the unsettled humours of the land,—
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,

With ladies’ faces, and fierce dragons’ spleens,—
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.

In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits, teint thick Ghle
Than now the English bottoms have walt o’er, we “ae ake i at Gi
Did never float upon the swelling tide, ‘Raat —_*
To do offence and scath* in Christendom, ey at;
The interruption of their churlish drums |
| Drums beat. |
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand, |
To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare.

K. Phi. How much unlook’d for is this expedi-

tion!

lust. By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence ;

For courage mounteth with occasion : le
Let them alone be welcome then, we are prepar’d. |

Hear the erier.
lust. What the devil art thou?
Bast. One that will play the devil, sir, with
you,
An ’a may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb roes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard ;
I?ll smoke your skin-coat,® an I catch you right .
\Sirrah, look to’t; faith, I will, faith.
Blanch. O, well did he become that lion’s robe
Le did disrobe the lion of that robe!
Jast. It lies as sightly o > back of hi
Enter King John, Elinor, Blanch, the Bastard,|As great Alcides’ BS ee ae —
Pembroke, and forces. ‘But, ass, Pll take that burden from your back ;
RK. John. Peace be to France ; if France in|Or lay on that, shall make your shoulders crack,
peace permit -lust. What cracker is this same, that deafs ow
Our just and lineal entrance te our own! a cars
If not; bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven !|With this abundance of superfluous breath ?

(1) Best stations to over-awe the town. (5) Undermined. (6) Succession,
(?) Immediate, expeditious. (7) A short writing. (8) Celestial,
3) The goddess of revenge. (4) Mischief, (9) Austria wears a lion’s skin.Scene J. KING JOHN, $43

K. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall do Our trumpet call’d you to this gentle parle.4

straight, | K. John. F

raig 7 é . For our advantage :—Therefore, hear

Lew. Women and fools, break off your confer- us first. —— Prt
ence,— These flags of France, that are advanced here

King John, this is the very sum of all,— Before the eye and prospect of your town,
England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, | Have hither march’d to your endamagement:
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee: The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ;
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms? [And ready mounted are they, to spit forth

K. John. My life as soon:—I do defy thee, Their iron indignation ’vainst your walls:

; France. All preparation for a bloody siege,

Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand ; And merciless proceeding by these French,
And, out of my dear love, Ill give thee more Confront your city’s eyes, your winking gates ;

Than e’er the coward hand of France can win : And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
Submit thee, boy. That as a waist do girdle you about,

Eli, Come to thy grandam, child. | By the compulsion of their ordnance

Const. Do, child, go to jt’ grandam, child; By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Give grandam kingdom, and it’? grandam will ‘Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made

Give it a plum, a cherry, anda fig: |For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
There’s a good grandam. But, on the sight of us, your lawful king, ——
Irth. Good my mother, peace !| Who painfully, with much expedient march,
I would, that I were low laid in my grave ; | Have brought a co: ntercheck before your gates,
I am not worth this coil' that’s made for me. To save unscratch’c your city’sthreaten’d cheeks,-~
Eli, His mother shames him so, poor boy, he) Behold, the French. amaz’d, vouchsafe a parle:

abe

weeps. 'And now, instead o- bullets wrapp’d in fire,
Const. Now shame upon you, whe’r? she does,|To make a shaking “ever in your walls,
or no! lhey shoot but caln: words, folded up in smoke,

His grandam’s wrongs, and not his mother’s shames, | To make a faithless error in your ears:
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor| Which trust accordi: zly, kind citizens,
eyes, And let us in, your king; whose labour’d spirits,
Which heaven shall take in nature ofa fee ; Forwearied® in this 2 :tion of swift speed,
ith these crystal beads heaven shall be brib’d| Crave harbourage w’ -hin your city walls.
To do him justice, and revenge on you. K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us
Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and! both.

earth ! Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven andjIs most divinely vow’d upon the right
earth ! Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet ;
Call not me slanderer; thou, and thine, usurp Son to the elder brother of this man,
The dominations, royalties, and rights, |And king o’er him, and all that he enjoys:
Of this oppressed boy : This is thy cldest son’s son,| For this down-trodden equity, we tread

thee ; In warlike march these greens before your town:
Being no further enemy to you,
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this op pressed child,
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
K. John. Bedlam, have done. To pay that duty, which you truly owe,
Const. I have but this to say,—!/To him that owes® it ; namely, this young prince:
That he’s not only placued for her sin, ; And then our arms, li: ° to a muzzled bear,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague Save in aspéct, have 2 ‘ offence seal’d up ;
On this removed issue, plagu’d for her, Our cannons’ malice \ inly shall be spent
And with her plague, her sin; his injury Against the invulneral ie clouds of heaven ;
Her injury,—the beadle to her sin ; (nd, with a blessed and unvex’d retire, :
All punish’d in the person of this child, With unhack’d swords, and helmets all unbruis’d,
And all for her; A plague upon her! We w ill bear home that lusty blood again,
Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce Which here we came tc spout against your town,
A will, that bars the title of thy son. {nd leave your children, wives, and you, In peace.
Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicke dwill;| But if you fondly pass our profler’d offer,
; lam’s will! Tis not the rondure’ of your old-faec’d walls
pe-|Can hide you from our ‘nessengers of war ;
Though all these Engli:h, and their discipline,
Were harbour’d in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng’d it?
‘Or shall we give the sig.:al to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession ?
e | 1 Cit. In brief, we are the king of England’s
Trumpets sound, Enter Citizens upon the walls. subjects;
1 Cit. Who is it, that hath warn’d us to the walls ?| For him, and in his righ we hold this town.
K. Phi. ?Tis France, for England. | K.Jehn. Acknowled, c then the king, and let

Infortunate in nothing but in
Thy sins are visited in this poor child ;
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation

A woman’s will; a canker’d gran
K. Phi. Peace, lady ; pause, or be more tem
ratc :
1 ca “Mreernren ‘ ou at 3
It ill beseems this presence, to cry alm
To these ill-tuned repetitions.—
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak,

Whose title they admit, Arthur’s or John’s.

K. John. England, for itself: | _ me in.
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,— | 1 Cit. That can we not: but he that proves the
K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur’s) king,
subjects,

(4) Conference.

(5) Worn out.
(1) Bustle. (2) Whether. (3) To encourage. (6) Owns,

7) Circle.SSE Fe
re nee er

-

eae

a

eae:

rer eterneitne ate ny Mertemsnee er

"44 KING

To him‘will we prove loyal; till that time,
Have we ramm’d up our gates against the world.
K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove

the king ?
And, if not that, A bring you witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England’s breed,—

Bast. Bastards, and else.
K. John. To verify our title with their lives,

K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as)

 

those,
Bast. Some bastards too.

Act IL,

 

JOHN,

Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold,
Prom first to last, the onset and retire

\Of both your armies ; whose equi lity

|By our best eyes cannot be censured :!

| Blood hath h bought blood, and blows have answer’d
blows ;

\Strength match’d with strength, and power eon-
fronted power :

3oth are alike: and both alike we like,

Jne must prove greatest: w hile they weigh so even,
We hold our town for neither ; yet for both.

+1

K, Phi, Stand in nie Fabs ta contradic’ his claim. |

L Cit. Till youcompound whose right is worthiest,
We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both.

K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all those}

souls,
That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening { all, I] fleet,

In dreadful trial of our kingdor’s ven

K. Phi. Amen, Amen !—Mount, chevaliers! to
arms !

Bast. St. George,—that swing’d the dragon, and
e’er since,

Sits on his horseback at mine hostess’ door,

Teach us some fence !_Sirrah, were I at home,

At your den, sirrah, [7 Austri ,}] with your

lioness,

I’d set an ox head to your lion’s hide,

And make a monster of you.

Aust. Peace:

Bast. ©, tremble ; for you hear the j

K. John. Up higher to the plain ;
set forth,

In best appointment, all our regiment
Bast. Speed then, to take advanta
K. Phi. It shall be so ;—[ 7’

other hill

Command the rest to stand.—God, and o

SCENE I/.—The same. 4larwns and Evcur-
sions ; then a Retreat. Enter a French Herald,
with trumpets, to the gates.

F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your

gates,
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in;
Who, by the hand of t rance, this day hath m ade
Much work for tears in pany an Eng HY 1 motl
Whose sons lie scatter’d on the bl: . cround:
Many a widow’s husband grove rellin ies,
Coldly embracing the discolour’d e: i :
And victory, with little loss, dot h play

*)}

Upon the dancing banners of the Frene

Who are at hand, triumphant tly. dis} lay’d

To enter conquerors, and to proc laim

Arthur of Bretagne, England’s Pine and yours,

Enter an English Herald, with trumpet

E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your
bells ; “a

King John, your king and England’s, dothapproach,
Commander of this hot malicious day! '
Their armours, that march’d hence sv silver-bright.
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen’s blood ;
There stuck no plume in any English erest,
That is removed by a staff of France ;
Our colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march’d forth
And, like a jolly troop of hunt men, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dyed i in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

(1) Judged, determined. (2) Potentates.

|Do like the mutines
'Be friends a v hile,

Enter, at one side, Yat John, with his power ;
Elinor, Blanch, md ‘the Bast: ird; at the other,

, Austria, and forces.

K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to

ll the current of our right run on?

V\ e passage, vex’d with thy impediment,

ve his native channel, and o’er-swell

With course disturb’d even thy confining shores ;

Unl nou let his silver water keep

\ ful progre ; to the ocean.
i 4]
, thou hast not sav’d one drop
bloc
ot trial re than of France ;

ost more: And by this hand I swear,

tj swa the earth this climate overlooks,—
) li lay down our just-borne arms
» down, ’gainst whom these arms we
ly ber to the dead;
the s« |, that tells of this war’s loss,
VW lauehter coupled to the name of kings.
t. Lia, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
\ | the rich blood of kings ts set on fire !
doth « th line his dead chaps with steel;

?

ds of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs ;
4 . :
A vy he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men,
in undetermin’d diflerences of kings. —
\ vy stand theaea roval fro a = take _
\Vhy stand these royal fronts amazed thus 7

Cry, havoc, kings! back to the stained field,

you equal potents,? fiery-kindled spirits !

hen let confusion of one part confirm

he other’s peace; till then, blows, blood, and

K. John. Whe arty d

A. John. Whose party do the townsmen. yet
admit ? '

K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for Engl ,

- Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who's
your king ?

‘t 'The kin
1 Cit. The king of England, when we know the
ne,
, eye ae '
K. Phi. now him in us, that here hold up his

: : -
K. John. In us, that are our own creat de ~puty,

An ry ession of our person here
f our presence, Angiers, and of you,
of oy fern ver the rp }
; ] s it. A greater power than we, denies all this ;
na, tli it be undoubted, we do leck

Our former scruple in our strong-barr’d gates :
Kin *d of our { ars ; until our fears, resoly’ d,

I me certain king purg’d and de pos’d.

by heaven, these scroyles? of Angiers flout
you, kin; gs ; :

And stand securely on their battleme nts,

As in a the atre, nee the} ¥ cape and point

At your iiduatete us scenes and acts of death.
Your ro y al presences be rul 5 by me }

f Jerusalem.
Hine both conjointly bend
er Bharpest dec de of malice on this town:
iBy cast and west let France and England mount

(3) Scabby fellows, (4) Mutineers,Scene I.

Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths :
Till their soul-fearing c F amours have bra awl’d down! W
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous cil
I'd play incessant tly upon these jades,

Even till unfeneed de La ation

Leave them as naked as the vulvar ai

LIT’. iu]

That done,
And part your ming! led c :olou rs once
Turn face to face, and bloods point

Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her ha yy Mminion ; |
To whom in & wee she sii all vive the d y, ()
And kiss him with a glorious victor : ri
How like you i wild counsel, \ tes ?
Smacks it not something of the poli y.
A. Joh Now, by th sky that han i ye ou
he Las,
I like it well: —France, shall we Init our } .
And lay this Angi ers even with t} .
Then, after, fight — > shall be }
bast An aif thou i ; i sel
Being wrone’d, as we are, by 1 ‘ vn,—
‘Turn thou moutn ¢ :
As we 1 lil OUTS, rain
And w nthat we nay
Why, then defy « 0 -
Make work upon
A. Ph Let it Say \
ssault
K. John. We { f
Into the city’
fust. | from | 7 :
. Pri. Our thu
Shall rain their drift of bullet! ‘
Bast. Bardon discipline! From)
Austria and France shoot in each other
I'll stir them to it:—Come, away, away!
1 Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchs 1 while! T
to stay,
And I shall show you peace, and fair-faced league ;
Win you this city without stroke, or w
Rescue those breathing live n .
That here come sacrifices for |
Perséver not, but hear me, mighty ki C
K. John. mre’ on, with favour; wi bent! H
to hea i
1 Ci. That , foot’ he there of in, the lady| Ar
Blanch, D
Is near to England: Look upon tl
Of Lewis the Daup hin, and that lovely maid
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, L}
Where sh mald he find it fairer than in Blanch? \s
If zealous! love should go in search of vii 4
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch
If love ambitious : sought a match of b
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, bi \
Is the voung Dauphin every wa complet a.
If not comple te, 0 say, he is not she;

|

And she again wants nothing, to n

*4

If want it be not, thet she is not he:
He is the half part ‘of a blessed man

Left to be finished by such a she ;
And she a fair divided excellence,

Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. _
QO, two such silver currents, when they jon,

Do glorify the banks that hound the

And. two such shores to two suc h sires
Two such controlling bounds shall you we , kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them

This union shall do more than battery can,

(1) Pious, (2) Speed,

cdisseyer your r united strengths

to point

KING JOHN. 315

= }

LOI 5 i

(3) Picture.

The mouth of pa
And rive you entrance

If

|'T'o our fast-closed gates ; for, at this match,

ith swifler spleen? than powder can enforce,

ssage shall we fling wide ope,

but, without this match,
sea enraged is not half so deaf,

ms more confide nt, mountains and rocks

re fi no, not death himself

‘ee [rom motion ;
iortai fury halfso peremptory
74 wl INPLOLY,

e to keep this city
Bast, Ade re’s a stay,
hakes the rotten carcase of old de ath
of his rags! Here’s a large mouth, indeed,
spits lorth death, and mountains, rocks, and
familiarly of roaring lions,
n do of ] pul py-dog s!
nnoneer begot this lusty blood ?
plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and
do with his tongue;
cudzel’d; not a word of his,
fist of France:
tiw ‘so bethump’d with words,
i my brother’s father, dad,
Eli, Son, | is conjunction, makethis match;
. dowry large enough:
t shalt so surely tie
e to the crown,
ll have no sun to ripe
ha mighty fruit.
n the looks of France;
ey whisper: urge them, while their
ol ambition :
melted, by the windy breath
i} ms. DULY, and re morse,
1 to what it was,
LA. r not the double majesties
friendly ti y of our threaten’d town ?

K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been

city: What say you?
Bid li Dauphin there, thy princely
in this book of b Luly read, I loye,
l! weigh equal with a queen;
uid fair Touraine, Maine, and Poictiers,
1
sk 4

As ri ly -¢
nis side the sea

 

    

xcep cily new by us besieg’d,)
nd liable ) cro } nd dignity,
j fit LI lal bed al dd make her rich
titles, honours, and promotions,
1e in beauty, education, blood,
ids nand with any pees of ith e world,
¢. Phi. What say’st thou, boy? look in the lady’s

Lew. 1 do, my lord, and in her eye I find
nae rr @r 3 wondrous Mm int acle,
hadow of myself fier n her eye ;
h, being but the shadow of your son,

ne want, 3 1 sun, nd makes your son a shad3w:
IL t, | never lov’d mysell
l, Till now infixed I beheld} Lysclf,
Drawn in the flattering tabl ; of her eye.
[ Whispers vith Blanch.
m. Bast, Drawn in the flattering table of her eye!—
Hane’d inthe frowning wrinkle of her brow!—
m in: 4nd quarter’d in her heart !—he doth espy
Lt s made one, | Llimself love’s traitor: Thi s is pit ¥ ns
That hane’d, and drawn, and quarter’d, there

such a love, so vi ile a lout as he.
Blanch. My uncle’s vill, in this respe ct, is mine *
he see aught in you, at it makes him like,

>
2KEa

eaten eedied te

ig dws sain a

ey

as

sinatra ioe ates see ic

346 KING JOHN.

That any thing he sees, which moves his liking,
I can with ease translate it to my will;

Or, if you will, (to speak more properly, )

I will enforce it easily to my love.

Further I will not flatter you, my lord,

That all I see in you is worthy love,

Than this,—that nothing do I see in you

(Though churlish thoughts themselves should be!

your judge, )
That I can find should merit any hate.
K. John. What say ee se young ones? Wha
say you, my niece!
Blanch. That ‘she i is and in honour still to di
What you in wisdom shall vouchs2fe to say.

K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you!

love this lady ?
Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love,
For I do love her most unfeignedly
K, John. Then do J give Yolquessen, ‘Toural
Maine,
Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to the-; and this addition more,

Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.—
Philip of France, if th ou ae pleas 'd withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join h nds

K. Phi. It likes us weil He-¥ oung princes
your hands.

)

Act 1,

That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commo-
dity,°

Commodity, ‘the bias of the ae

The world, who of itself is peised® well,

|Made to run even, upon even ground ;

Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,

This sway of motion, this commodity,

Makes it take head from all indifferency,

|l’rom all direction, purpose, course, intent :

d this same bias, this commodity,

 

 

 

 

  

t | T his bawd, this broker, this all- changing word,

|Clapp’d on the outward e ye of fickle ‘Franc e,
)| Hath drawn him from his own determin’d aid,
1p rom a resolv’d and honourable war,

To a most base and vile-concluded peace.—
|And why rail I on this commodity?

But for because he hath not woo’d me yet:
‘Not that I have the power to clutch’ my hand,
‘When his fair angels* would salute my palm:
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,

ike a poor beggar, raileth on the ric h.

i\We ell, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail,

| And say,—there is no sin, but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To say, —there is no vice, but beggary:

close|Since kings break faith upon e ommodity,

Gain, be my lord! for I will worship thee! [ Exit.

Aust, And your lips too; for, I am well assur’d, |

That I did ee when I[ was first assur’d.!

K. Phi. Now , citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,

Let in that amity which you have made ;

For at saint Mary’s chapcl, presently,

The rites of marriage shall be solemniz’d.—

Is not the lady Constance in this troop ?—

I know, she is not; for this match, made up,
Her presence would have interrupted much :—
Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows.

——P
| ACT. Iie

SCENE I.—The same. The French king’s tent.
Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.

|

} Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a

yeace !

Lew. She is sad and passionate? at your high-|False blood to false blood join’d! Gone to be
| ry }

ness’ tent.

K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we

have made,

Will give her s: adness ve ry little cure.
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady? In her right we came ;
Which we, God knows, have turned another way,
To our own vantage.*

K. John. We will heal up all:
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne, |
And earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town

We make him lord of.—Call the lady Constance:

Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity :—I trust we shall,

If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so,
That we shall stop her exclamation,
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlook’d for, unprepared pomp.

friends !
Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those pro-
vinces ?

tis not so: th ou hk ist misspoke, mis sheard ;
se well advis’d, tell o’er thy tale again :

t cannot be: th 1ou dost but say, ’lis so:
trust, I may not trust thee: for thy word
s but eS ie vain breath of a common man :
elieve me, I do not beliey e thee, man;

{t have a ‘Kies oath to the contrary.

Thou shalt be punish’d for thus frighting me,
lor I am sie k, and capable® of fears ;
Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of fe ars;
\ widow, husbandless, subject to fe: Irs ;

\ womat , naturally born to fears :

(nd though thou now confess, thou didst’but jest,
With my vex’d spirits I cannot take a truce,

But they will quake and tremble all this day.

What di st thou mean by shaking of thy head?

;

[Exeunt all but the Bastard.—The Citizens} Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?

retire from the wails.

Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!

John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:

And France (whose armour conscience buckled on;

Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God’s own soldier,) rounded®* in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil ;
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith ;
That daily break-vow ; he that wins of all,

What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lame ntable rheum,

Like a proud river peering’® ©’er his bounds ?

Be these sad siens confirmers of thy words ?

Then speak ag rain not all thy former tale,

But this one w yess whether thy tale be true ;

Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false

That give you cause to rove my saying true, ;
| Const. O, if thou teae h me to believe this sorrow,
i Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ;

Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids ;—| And let belief and life encounter S80,

Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid,—chceats the poor maid of that;

(1) Affianced.

(2) Mournful. (3) Advantage.
(4) Conspired,

(5) Interest.

| (6) Poised, balanced.

(As doth the fury of two desperate men,
| Which, in the very mee ting, fall, and die.—

7) Clasp.

(8) Coin, (9) Susceptible, (10) Appearing,Scene J. KING

Lewis marry Blanch! O, boy, then where art thou ?
France eros England! what becomes of
Fellow, be cone: | cannot brook thy sight:
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I

] }
3 e » good lady, done,
But spoke the harm that Is by ot!

ers done ?
Corsi. Which harm within itself so heinous is,
As il ikes harmful all that speak of it.
“rik. | do bese ech you, madam, be content,
Const. If thou, that bid’st me be c

ot

ontent, wert

’
erin
ijl,

Ugly, and sland’rous to thy mother

; ; }
5S Wom),

7 ae . ' . . ,
Full of unpleasing bists, and sightless! stains,
. . 7 ’ } 5 °
“ame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,?
Patch’d With Loui mM ind ¢ - nal mar!

I would not care, | th would be content :
For then I should not ‘ove thes * no, nor thou

Become thy great birth, nor deserve a c wn.
But thou art fair ; and at thy birth. dear boy !
Nature and fortune join’d to make thee ereat :
Of nature’s gifts thou may’st with lilies boast
And with the half-blown rose: but fortun te)
She is corrupted, chane’d, and won from the

She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John
And with her golden hand hath pluck’d on Frans

To tread down fair r ‘t of sovereign

And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.
Frahce is a bawd to fortune, and king John:
That strumpet fortun at usurping John :—

Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ?
Envenom him with words: or get thee gon
And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.

Sal, Pardon me, madam,
I may not go without you to the kings.

Const. Thou may’st, thou shalt, I will not go with

thee :

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state? of my great crief,
Let kings assemble ; for my grief’s so great
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up: here I and sorrow sit ;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
, [She throws herself on the ground.

’

Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch,
Elinor, Bastard, Austria, and atlendants.
K. Phi. ’Tis true, fair daughter ; and this bless-
ed day,
Ever in France shall be kept festival:
To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist;
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holyday.
Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday !——
; | Rising.
What hath this day deserv’d? what hath it done;
That it in golden Jetters should be set,
Among the high tides,* in the kalendar?
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week ;
This day of shame, oppression, perjury:
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross’d :
But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck ;
No bargains break, that are not this day made :
This day all things begun come to ill end;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!

41) Unsightly. (2) Portentous, (3) Seated in state,

 

JOHN. 347

__K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause

lo curse the fair proceedings of this day:

Have I not pawn’d to you my majesty ?

’ Const. You have beguil’d me with a counterfeit

Resembling majesty ; which, being touch’d, an
tried,

Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn ;

You came in arms to spill mine enemies’ blood,

But now in arms you strengthen it with yours:

The grappling vigour and rough frown of war,

Is cold in amity and painted peace,

\nd our oppression hath made up this league :—

‘rm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur’d
kings !

\ widow ertes; be husband to me, heavens!

Let not the hours of this ungodly day

Weur out the day in peace ; but, ere sunset,

Set armed discord twixt these perjur’d kings !

Hear me, O, hear me!
Aust, Lady Constance, peace.
Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me
war.
O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame

That bloody spoil: Thou slave, thou wretch, thou
coward:

Thou little valiant, great in villany !

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
fortune’s champion, that dost never fight

But when her humorous ladyship is by

r 1 thee safety! thou art perjur’d too,

(nd sooth’st up greatness. What a fool art thou,

\ ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear,

i} '!
A 4iVul

O leaci

Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?
Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
\nd dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
Thou wear a lion’s hide! doff* it for shame,
(nd hang a ealf’s-skin on those recreant limbs.
lust. O, that a man should speak those words
to me!
Bast. And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant
limbs,
lust. Thou dar’st not say so, villain, for thy life.
Bast. And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant
limbs.
t. John. We like not this; thou dost forget
thyself.

—

Enter Pandulph,

K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope
Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven ![~
To thee, king John, my holy errand is.
| Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal,
(nd from pope Innocent the legate here,
Do, in his name, religiously demand,
Why thou against the church, our holy mother,
So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce,
Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop
Of Canterbury, from that holy see?
This, in our ’foresaid holy father’s name,
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.
K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories
Can task the free breath of a sacred king?
Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name
So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous,
To charge me to an answer, as the pope.
Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England,
|Add thus much more,—That no Italian priest
‘Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ;
‘But as we under heaven are supreme head,
‘So, under him, that great supremacy,

(5) Do off,

(4) Solemn seasons,net eee

Sa RT

mA ee Sees

 

sresieibaee team os

343

Where we do reign, we will alone uphold,
Without the assistance of-a mortal hand :
So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart,
To him, and his usurp’d authority.

   

KING JOHN. cl IIT,

That need must needs infer this prineiple,——
That faith would live again by death of need ;
|O, then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up;

|Xecp my need up, and faith 1 is trodden down,

K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme in} K. John. The king is mov’d, and answers not

this.

K. John. Though you, and all the kings of

Christendom,

Are led so grossly by this pap reine priest,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out;
And, by the merit of vile ¢ rold, Knees § dust,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man
Who, in that sale, se Hs pi irdon from himself:
Though you, and all the r: st, so grossly led
This juggling witchcraft Ws ith revenue cherish ;
Yet I, alone, alone do me opposs
Against the ps pe, and count his frien 1 S.

Pand, The: , by the lawful power that I have
Thou aa lt stand eurs’d, and excommunicat
And blessed shal! he be, that doth revolt
From his alleriance tf
And meritorious shall
Canonized, and worship p’d as a saint,
That takes away by any secret cou:

Thy hateful life.

to this.
Const. O, be remov’d from him, and answer well.
elust. Do so, king Philip; hang no more in doubt.
| Last. Wang nothing but a call’s-skin, most sweet
| lout.
hi. lam Pe plex’d, and know not what to say.
Pand. What can’st thou «: iy, but will perplex
unee more
[f thou stand excommunicate, and ecurs’d ?

K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person

And tell me, how you would bestow yourself.
yal hand and mine are newly knit ;

nd ion of our inward souls
\larried in league, coupled and link’d together

VWith all religious strength of sacred yows:

he latest breath that eave the sound of w ords,
y\ dee] -sworn faith, peace, amity, t ruc love,
Bet n our kingdom and our royal selves:

. . S : ’
{ even Defore this truce, but new before,—

Const. , laiyful Tet it b (oO longer than we well could wash our hands,
mm : r> ’ ' : . ‘ .
That I have room Wel h Rome to curse a 1 ! 10 clap this royal bargain up of peace,—
Good father cardinal, cry thou, amen, tleaven knows, they were besmear’d and over-
ry . ' 3)
l'o my keen curses ; for, without my wrong, mn’
1. <a 4 | } 4 | oe 47 . ; . ‘ :
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right./ With slaughter’s pencil; where revenge did paint
ry ‘ ‘ : . : } , . )
Pand. There’s law and warrant, lady, for my) The fearful difference of incensed kin
, curse, ‘ snali these hands, so lately purg a ofl blood,
4 } ; : — ;
Const. And for mine too; when Jaw can do no newiy join’d in love, so strong in both,
rivht, eizure, and this kind regreet ?2
Let it Bein etal that law bar no wrone: > eh Cale Fe pie |
4Cl it DE fawiul, tnat law par! : A008 bon fan SO jest WIth heayen,
saw cannot give my child his kin m \ ‘onsiant children of ourselves,
‘ 1 . } . .
For he, that holds his kinedom, | ) ‘tch our palm from palm ;
T herefor , since law itself} p rfect wrone, { r ia orn: ¢ d on the marriage bed
How can the law forbid my tonrue to curse ? mil a ; marcn ; bloody host,
Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, i make a riot on the gentle brow
Let re, hand of that arch-heretic ; Of true sincerity ? O holy sir.
And raise the power of France upon his head, ly reverend father, let it not be so
Unless he auhah himselfto Rome. Out vo ce, devise, ordain, impose
Eli. Look’st thou pale, France? do not Iet ; entle order; and then we shall be ble ss’d
; .
thy hand. ‘0 your pleasure, and continue friends.
1 . a ’ 1‘. Pp .
Const. Look to that, devil! lest that Frane All form is formless, order ord rless,
repent, ve what is opposite to Eneland’s Jove
And, by dis} oining hands, hell tose a soul, therefore, to arms! be champion of our - chure h!

listen to the car

Aust. King Philip,

Bast. And hane a calf’s-skin on his reereant

limbs,
Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up th
wrongs,
Because——

Bast. Your breeches best may carry them.

K. John. Philip, what say’st thou to the car-

dinal ?

Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal 3
Lew. Bethink you, father; for the difference
Is, purciase of a heavy curse from Rome
Or the light loss of England for a friend:

}Forego the ¢ easier.
Blanch. That’s the curse of Reme.
Const. O Lewis, stand fast: the devil t mpt
thee here,
In likeness‘of a new untrimmed! bride.
Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not fro
her faith,
But from her need,

Const. O, ifthou grant my need
Which only lives but by the death of faith,
(1) ‘When unadorn’d, adorn’d the most.

Thomson’s iutunm, 206.)

|
Or le} th church, our mother. breathe her curse,
rse, on her revolting son.

7 c, thou may’st hold a pent by the tongue,
\ ( 1 110n DY the mortal paw,
Lf iver safer | he tooth,
i p in peace that hand whic h thou dost hold.

\ PP I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith,
z id. So mak’st t] su faith an enemy to faith ;
snd, Uke a civil war, set’st cath to oath,

congue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow

First made to heaven, first be to heayen p erform’d ;
i hat is, to be the el mpion of ot irchurch!
What since thou swor’st, is sworn against thy self,

And may not be periormed by thyself:
ror that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss,

Is n ml voen it is truly dor

\ : hh, : j } S
bein »t don ere doine tends to i}]}

i ruth j im cone not doing it:

Phe bett ct of purposes mistook

is, to mistake again: thouch indireet

\ ’ 7 eT } } li ,

BOL INnNairection thereby ewrows direct

ret indire a a

\} { Sy yon th]

And falseh ‘sehood cures ; as fire cools fire,
| }Vithin the scorched veins of one new burn'd.

\It is religion, that doth make vows kept ;

| }
t

of salutation,Seene IT. KING JOHN. 349

Sy whi ; . Loe burn’d up with inflaming wrath ;

sy what thou swear’st, against the thing thou’ A rage, whose heat hath this condition,

. arr ar’st 5 i sed rhat nothing can allay, nothing but blood,

And mak’st an oath the surety for thy truth The blood, and dearest-valu’d — °F

Acainst an oath: The truth th art unsure >} th phan a out vlogs a ae
Ag an oath: The truth thou art unsur: A. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou

But thou hast sworh against religion ; France, tam |
J

- - - - ; 7 = ]

oO swear, Siveal only not to be lorsworn ; shalt turn

Else, what a mockery should it be to swear! T’o ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire :
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn . Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy,

And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear.| K. Jehn. No more than he that threats.—To
herefore, thy latter vows, avainst thy first s tet’s hie! { Exeunt

' ' ; arms k
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself: idiadeaa ial
And be tler conquest never canst th mM ikke SOLAN E 1.—The same, Plains near Angiers.
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts eilarins, sacurstons. Lnter the Bastard, with
Against those giddy loose sugeestions : Lustria’s head
er kind caw Se P AY ate a » Yer,” ahs
pon whi as Ute r par = prayers come in, bast, “he Ww, DY my life, this day grows won-
i thou vouchsafe them; but, if not, then know drous hot;
‘The peril of our curses light on th e. some airy devil hovers in the sky,
. as ¢] helt not ehake the ne 1a) saints tad a ‘ ;

So heavy, as thou shalt no shake them off, \nd pours down mischief. Austria’s head lie there ;
But, in despair, die under their black weight. VV hile Philip breath

“lust. Rebellion, flat rebellion ! en tii Irie + ;

Enter King John, Arthur, and Hubert.

, ; Tt 1*
Bast. Will’t not be ?

Will not a ealf’s-skin stop that mouth of thine ? K. John. Tlubert, keep this boy:—Philip, make
t

Lew. Father, to arms! up:
Blanch. Upon thy wedding day ?;My mother i sailed in our tent,

Against the blood that thou hast married ? {nd taen, I fear,

What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter’d men ?|__ Bast. My lord, I reseu’d her ;

Shall braying trump ts, and loud churlish drun — i ichness ts in salety, fear you not;

Clamours of hell—be measures! to our pomp? iS n, my liege: for very little pains

O husband, hear me !—ah, alac! new Will bring this labour to a happy end. [Exeunt.
besrnbes Del al ARM 1 ean fie thea ' mas

Is husband in my mouth ven hat name, SCENE 1.—The same. Alarums; £ecur-

"hich ¢ hix timmy: t ne? ry ries
Me hich till this tim my to gue did) pronounce,| sions + Relreat. Enter Kine John, Elinor
pon my knee I be 9 BY NOL tO arm Arthur. the Bastard. VHinbe Lt Is :
Against inine unc! rihur, t#e Dastard, Liubert, and Lords.

Const. _ QO, upon my knee, K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay
Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, behind {Yo Elinor.
Thou virtuous dauphin, alter not the doom So strongly guarded.—Cousin, look not sad :
Fore-thought by heaven. | Zo Arthur.
Blanch. Now shall I see thy love; VW motive |’ randam loves t and thy uncle will

may \ r be to thee : hy father was.
Be stronger with t than the name of wi /irth. O, 1 will make my mother die with grief.
Const. That which upholdeth h that Gi as . Cousin, [To the Bastard.] away for
uphold > itneland: haste before:
His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, !' And, e! ur coming, see thou shake the bags
Lew. 1 muse,? your u ty d ycold, |Of hoarding abbots: angels* imprisoned
When such profound resp ; Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace
Pand. I will denot ‘ae by the hungry now be fed upon:
K. Phi. Thou shalt not need :—Eng ris commission In his ulmost force.
from thee. Past. Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me
Const. O fair return of | ish’d m . a
Eli. O foul revolt of French in cy! Vv hen ld and silver becks me to come on.
K. John. France, thou lt ru hour within 1 leay our highness :—Grandam, I will pray
this hour. if ever | remember to be holy)
Bast. Old time the clock-sctter, that bald sex your fair safety; so I kiss-your hand.
time, Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.
13 it a8 he vv ill owe \] (] ’ B i Wore 2 f ° J . Coz, farewell,
Blanch. The sun’s o’ercast with blood: Fair [ hait Bastard.
day, adieu! Eli. Come hither, little kinsman: hark, a ‘word.

Which is the side that I must withal ? [She takes Arthur aside.
I am with both: cach army ,al |: K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle
And, in their rage, I havi iid of both, Hubert,

They whirl asunder, and dismember me. \Ve owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
Husband, I cannot pray that thou may’ in; Phere 1s a i, counts thee her creditor,
Incle. I needs must pray that thou may’st | \nd with advantage means to pay thy love :
Father, I may not wish the fortune thin {nd, my good friend, thy voluntary oath

. , . 4 - ’ : . , * . . -
Grandam, I will not wish thy w ishes thrive: Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.

shall I jose: Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,—

Whoever wins, on that sid [ |i ;
° } } +,] t oy] if { cn : af »y >
Assured loss, before the match be piay But I wall fit : " ith some better time.
. i : ‘ : Rw hea y i whart « ¢ “+t oche
Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune lies. |By heaven, Hubert, | am almost asham/’d

Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my|To say what good respect I have of thee.
life dies. | Hub. 1am much bounden to your majesty,
2 . . ” ‘ on ‘ . og. ©
K. John. Cousin, co draw our puissance” to- Kk. John. Good frit nd, thou hast no cause toe say

gether.— [Exit Bastard. | so yet;

(1) Music for dancing, (2) Wonder, (3) Foree, (4) Gold coin,~ Steere -
ne eee ae ld

~ CORE Os ee
oo ern

ry

a

en.

 

50 KING JOHN,

But thou shalt have; and creep time ne’er 80 slow,

Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.

I had & thing to say,—But let it go:

The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,!

To give me audience :—If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drow sy race of night ;

If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak’'d thy blood” and made it heavy-thic rk,

Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making’ that idiot, laughter, keep men’s e yes,
And strain their checks to idle merriment,

A passion hateful to my purposes ;)

Or if that thou could’st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make rep ly
Without a tongue, using conceit? alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
{ would into thy bosom pour my thoughts :
But ah, I will not :—Yet I love thee well ;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov’st me well.

Hub. So well, that what you bid me under-

take,

Though that my death were adjunct® to my act,
By heaven, I’d do’t.

’

)

_ John. Do not I know, thou would’st?|

Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young poy: Fi tell thee what, mj
friend,
He is a very ser pent in my way:
And, wheresoe’er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: Dost thou understand me!
Thou art his keeper.
Hub. And I will keep him so,
That he shall not cffend your maje ity.
K. John. Death.

Hub. My lord?

K. John. A grave.

Hub. He shall not live. |
K. John. Enough,

I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee
Well, I’ll not say whi it ] intend for thee:
Remember. —Madam, fare you well:
I'll send those powers o’er to your majesty
Eli. My blessing go with thee
K. John. or England, cousin:
Hubert shall be your man, atte - on you
With all true duty.—On toward

)

Calais, ho!

or

SCENE IV.—The same. The French kine
tent. Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pa agin
and attendants.

f °

K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armado* of convicted? sail
Is scatter’d and disjoin’d from fellowship.
Pand, Courage and comfort! all shall yet go
well.
K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run
so ill?
Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta’en prisoner? divers dear friends slain ?
And bloody England into England gone,
O’erbearing interruption, spite of France 2
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified :
So hot a speed with such advice dispos’d,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,

(2) Conception.

tj Showy ornaments.
Joined, (4) Fleet of war,

(3

 

Viet HH,

Doth want éX: aimple : : Who hath read, dr heard,
Of any kindred action like to this?
K. Phi, Well could I bear that England had
this praise,
So we could find some pattern of our shame.

Enter Constance.

L, 00k, who comes here! a grave unto 4 soul;
folding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath :—
I pr’ythee, lady, go away with me,
ont L 0, now! now see the issue of your pez ide !
. a Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle
Constance
| Const. No, I defy® all counsel, all redress,
| Sut that whie th ends all counsel, true redress,
| Death, death: —O amiable love ly death!
Thou odorife rous stench! sound rottenness !
'Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
‘Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy détestable bones ;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows ;
|And ring these fingers with thy household w orms ;
|And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
|And be a carrion monster like thyself:
IC ome, grin on me; and I will think thou smil’st,
And a s thee as thy wife! Misery’s love,
iO, come to me!
K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace.
Const. No, no, I will not, having Wreath to ery :—
'O, that my tongue were in "the thunder’s mouth .
‘Then with a passion would T shake the world ;
| And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
MV hich eannot hear a kk dy’ s feeble voice,
| Which seorns a modern’ invocation.
| Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
| Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so ;
'f am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine ;
|My name is Constance; I was Geflrey’s wife
}Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost :
il am not mi id :—I would to heave n, | were!
iF bs then, ’tis like I should forget myself :
if I could what grief should I forget !—
Pre ach some ah ilosophy to make me mz id,
nd thou shalt be canoniz’d, cardinal ;
Fe or, being not mad, but sen sible of erief,
|My reasonable part produces ; reason
| How I may be deliver’d of these woes,
(nd teaches me to kill or hang myself:
If f were mad, I should forget my son:
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he -
I am not mad : too well, too well I (eel

 

,

‘he different plague of each calamity.
K. Phi. Bind up those tresses: O, what love I
note
In the fair multitude of those her oie
| Where but by chance a silver drop hath fall n,

'Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in soc iah le crief:
Like true, inseparable, faithtil loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
Const. To England, if you will.
K, en. Bind up y¢ our hairs.
Const. Yes, th i will; and wher fore will I doit?
I tore them a m their bonds: and cried aloud
O that these ha a could so rede em my son, ,
As they have iis these hairs their liberty !
But now I envy at their libe rly,
‘And will again commit them to their bon ds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner, ——
(nd, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
| That we shall see and know our friends i in ‘heaven : ;

(5) Overcome, (6) Refuse,

(7) Common,Meene i KING

If that be true; I shall see my bdy again ;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male chil: ;
To him that did but yesterday suspire,!
There was not such a gracious? creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native be “auty from his che ek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost ;
As dim and meagre as an ague’s fit ;
And so he’ll die ; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven,
{ shall not know him: therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pand. You hold too heinous a ré spect of grief,
Const. He talks to me, that never had a son.
AK. Phi. You ere as fond of grief. as of your child.
Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with m«
Puts on his pre ity looks, repeats his words
Remembers me of all his gracious parts
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ;
‘Then, have I reason to |

.
‘
,

.

be fond of grief.
Fare you well: had you such a loss as J,
I could vive better comfort than you inci
1 will not ke ep this form upon my head,

| T'e Prue off her head-dress.
When there is such disorder in my wit.
QO lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son
My life, my joy, my food, my all the st

My widow-comfort, and my sorrows ire! [E if.
K. Phi. 1 fear some outrage, and | Ll fi hi
“TE l

Lew. There’s nothing in this world, can mak
me jO%
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoil’d the sweet world’s
taste,
That it yields nought, but shame, and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant ef re pair an { health,
The fit is strongest: evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil:
What have you lost by losing of this day?
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. Uf you have won it, certainly you h
No, no: when fortune means to men most goo
She looks upon them with a threatening eye.

*T is strange, to think how much king John hath lost

In this which he accounts so clear “ won:

Are not you grieved, that oh thur is his prisoner ?
Lew. As heartily, as h glad he hath him.

Pand. Your mind is a. as s youthtu las your blood,

Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ;

For even the breath of what I mean to eet

Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub,

Out of the path which shall directly lead

Thy foot to England’s throne; and, therefore, mat
John hath seiz’d Arthur; and it cannot be,
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant’s veins,
The mispl: vc’d John should entertain an he yur,

One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest :

A sceptre, snatch’d with an unruly hand, ;

Must be as boisterously maintain’d as gain’d:
And he, that stands upon a slippery place

Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up:

he

That John may stand, then Ar thur needs must fall : |

So be it, for it cannot be but so.

Lew. "But what shall I gain by young Arthur’s|

fall ?
Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch, your
wife,

May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

(1) Breathe. (2) Graceful. (3) Tapestry.

JOHN, G51

Lew, And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did,
Pani. How green are you, and fresh in this old
world!

John lays you plots; the times conspire with you:

lor he, that steeps his safety in true blood,

Shall tind but blo ody safety, and untrue,
This act, so evilly born, shi ill cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal ;
hat none so small advantage shall step forth,
‘o check his reign, but they will cherish it;
No natural exhalation in the sky,
No ’scape of nature, no distemper’d day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call the in meteors, prodigies, and signs,
a lives, présages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouneing vengeance upon John.

Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur’s

life,
it hold himself safe in his prisonment.
Pand, Q, sir, when he shall hear of your ap-
proach,

If that young Arthur be not gone already,
I.ven at that news he dics: and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him,
\nd kiss the lips of unacquainted change ;
And pic k strong matter of revolt, and wrath,
Out of the blo ods lingers’ ends of John.
Vii thinks, [ see this hurly all on foot;
\nd, O, what better matter breeds for you,
Than I have nam’d!—The bastard Faulconbridge

’
2

‘Is now in England, ransacking the church,

Ofiending charity: If but a dozen French
h they would be as a call
lo train ten thousand English to their side ;

Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,

\non becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,
(;0 with me ¢o the king: ’Tis wonderful,

\What may be wrought out of their discontent:
Now that their souls are topful of offence,

lor England go; I will whet on the king.

Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions: Let

Ifyou say, ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE J.—Northampton. 4 room in the castle,
Enter Hubert ¢asid lwo Alllendants,

Hub. Heat me these irons hot: and, look thou
stand
| Within the arras :? when I strike my foot
‘Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth;
| And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch.
| 1 Uend. I hope, your warrant will bear out

| the deed.
| Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look
tot. —~ [Exeunt Attendants,

| Young lad, come forth; I have to say with vou.
Enter Arthur,

rth. Good morrow, Hubert.

| Hub. Good morrow, little prince.
rth. As little prince (having so great a title

|To be more prince) as may be.—You are sad.

| J1ub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

| arth. Mercy on me]
Mi thinks, nobody should be sad but I:

|Yet, | remember, when I was in France,

| Young centlemen would be as sad as night,*.

Se te

a a

a.

ea TTS GE

35 RING

Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of Ey and kept sheep,
J should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be fire but that I doubt
My uncle prac tises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him;
Ts it my fault that L1 was Greffrey’s son?
No, indeed, is’t not; And! would to he: ven,
J were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If T tal to hi m, with his innocent prate
He will awake my me rey, which lies dead :
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [.4side.
Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-
day :
In sooth, I would vou were a little sick ;
That I might sit all nicht, and watch with you:
J warrant, I love you more than you do me.
Hub. Wis words do take possession of my bo-
s0m.—

Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.]
How now, foolish rheum ? [Aste

Turning dispiteous torture out of door
I must be brief; lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. ——
Can you not read it? :
Arth, Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine cyes?

Hub. Young boy, I must.
Arth. And will you?
Tub. And IT will.
Arth. Have you the heart? When vour head
did but ach,
I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
The best I had, a princess wrought it me,)
And f did never ask it you again:
and with my h: und at midni id your head:

And, like the watchfal mis

Sill and anon cheer’d up 1

Saying, What lack you? and, Wh lies your
Pac ‘

Or, Whal ‘ ood l yye May I 2 fi Wy i

Many a a poor m in’s son woul

And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you-;

But you at vour sick service had a prince.

Way, you may think, my love was crafty ]

And call it c unning ; Do, an if you will:

If heaven be pleas’d that you must use me ill,

Why, then you must.—VWill you put out min
eves?

These eyes, that never did, nor never s!
So much es frown on vou

Flub. [] ive sworn to do if

And with hot trons must T bin em out.

Irth. Ah, none, bu in this i rt) a ee uuld doit!
The iron of itself, though i red- I
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my

Leurs,
And quench his fiery indign
rven in the matter of mine innocence
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mi eve,
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer’d iron?

An if an angel should have come to m
And told me, LLub wh sho \! | DuL Gul mine ey
I would not have believ’d no toneue, but Hubert’s,
Hub. Come forth. Sta
Re-enter /itlendants, with cord, irons, &.
Do as 1 bid you ao.
Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me
are out,
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

!

(1) In cruelty I have not deserved,

my eyes|

JOHN. fact IV,

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist’rous
rough?
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still,
|For he aven’s sake, Hubert, let me not be bound !
|Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away,
An | 'L will sit as quiet as a lamb ;
[ will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly:
Thrust but these men away, and Pil forgive you,
Whatever torment ycu do put me to,
ilub, Go, stand within; let me alone with him.
1 .dilend. I am best pleas’d to be from such a
deed. [Exeunt Ailiendants.
la then have chid away my friend ;
He hath a stern look, but a geutle heart :—
Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give ile to yours

-
a

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself,
irla. Is there no remedy i
Rub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Jirih. O heaven !—that there were bul a mote
in yours

: ?
\ crain, a dust, a

oni “ a wand’ring hair,
Any annoy: ince in that precious sense !
Then, fee lin ¢ what small thines are boist’rous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
Hud, Is uns your promise ? £0 Lo, hold your
{ 1e
T
:

lubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:
me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert!
tTubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
So I may keep mime eyes; O, spare mine eyes;

hough to no use, but still to look on you!
l.o, by my troth, the instrument is cold,
\ ; . i ‘
, WOUIG JOL harm me,

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

~irth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with

1,
f e for comfort, to be us’d
‘emes :' See else yourself’;

i mak Im this Wibrnime’ coal:
‘1 | of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
\ repentant ashes en his head.

ffub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.

Jaf A ris F "hy : . >
eirth., And if you do, you will but make it blush,
‘nd slow withshame of your proceedings, Hubert:
Vay, if, perehanee, will sparkle in your eves +
knd, lik dog that is compell’d to fieht,
Snatch at his master that deth tarre? him en.
ele 4} . ' srivl :
Li] n hat you should use to do me wrong,
) n r oie : only \ ou do lack
r} ‘vy, which flere lire, and iron, extends,
VPrea res of note, for merev-lact kine Uses,
so Vip} ‘ ; ane ‘
fiuo. Well, see to live; I will net touch thine
| the treasures that thine uncle owes :?
} mis i, and I did purpose, bov,

4

Wi 1 This Same very iron LO burn the m cnit.
sirth, QO, now yeu look like Hubert! afl this

Hub Peace: noinore, Ardiew;
Your uncle must not know but vou are dead:
Pil fill th se do oe d spies with false reperts,
An 1, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure,
That tub ert, fi Ps wealth of all the world,

| Will not offend th we,

Arth. O heaven !—I thank vou, Hiuhert.

flub. Silence; no more: Goclose ly* im with me

| Much danger do I undergo fer thee, [Exvewnt,

(2) Sethim on, (3) Qwns, 4) Seeretly,SCENE II.—The same.

And look’d upon, I hope

Crash Xpe cl ute nh tir

Of plain old fo:

Diser« "i il more

y then foes f irs (wh
Your tender kinsman,
The rich advantage 0
To grace occasions,

That you have bid us ask his

(3) ilies of exce Ning

    
  
 
 
    
    
  
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
     
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
   
   

JOHN, god
Which for our goods we d lo no further ask,
‘an whereupon our weal, on you depending,

its if your weal, he have his liberty.
A. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth

Enter Hubert.

Lo your direction.—Hubert, what news with you ?
Pem. This is the m: mn should do the bloody deed ;
lle show’d his warrant to a friend of mine:
he image of a wicked heinous fault
ves in hi that close aspéct of his
mood of a much-troubled breast ;
iI dof rfully believe, ’tis done,
What 1 » fear’d he had a charge to do.
Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go,
Be n his purpose and his conscience,
lds ’twixt two dreadful battles ’set :
L 1 1S so rine, it needs must break.
fem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue

ruption of a sweet child’s death.
K. John. We cannot hold mortality’s strong
1] h my will to give is living,
tit which you denrand is gone and dead:
, Arthur is deceas’d to-night.
pat, fy i, we lear’d, his sickness was past cure.
P indeed we heard how near his death he was,
himself en was sick:
be answer’d, either here, or hence.
Why do you in a such solemn brows

| bear the shears of destiny ?

ment on the pulse of life?

it i parent foul play ; and ’tis shame,
{ hould so erossly offer it:

ve it in your game! and so farewell!

. Stay yet, lord Salisbury ; I’ll go with thee,
\ | inheritance of this poor child,
: ‘a forced crave.
breath of alJl this isle,
Bad anil the while!
ne: this will break out
. l ere long, | doubt.
| Hareunt Lords,
in indignation; I repent ;
ition set on blood ;

? death.——

. vd i) othe rs
Einter a Me ssener,.
t hast; Where is that blood,
1 inhabit in those cheeks ?
not without a storm:
ither :—How roes allin France?
trance to England.—Never sucha

1 preparat ion,
n the body ofa land!
your speed is learn’d by them;
ould be told they do prepare,
, that they are all arriv’d.
John. O, where hath our intelligence been

Where hath it slept? Where is my mother’s care ;
‘hat such an army c ou ild be drawn in France,

not hear of it?
5. My liege, her ear

’d with dust; the first of April, died

ble mother: And, as I hear, my lord,

lady Constance in a frenzy died
‘hree days before: but this from rumour’s tongue
| idly heard; if true, or false, I know not,

(5) Releasement, (6) Qwned,. (7) Force,
oYDe eC een

ie

rer ee

<

Hid RING JOWUN, Aol IV,

be Joli. Withhold thy si5ed, dreadful occasion! Pout fixed ; and the filth did whirl about
mike a league with me, ill I have pleas’d | The other four, in wond’rous motion.
x discontented peers !—\ hat! mother dead ? | K. John. Five moons?

How wildly then walks my «state in France !— Hub. Old men, and bedlams;
Under whose conductcamc hose powers of France, | it the streets
That thou for truth giv’st 0 ‘, are landed here ? Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
Mess. Under the dauphin. | Young Arthur’s death is common in their mouths
‘ F c ! i Sik i ‘aQas
Enter the Bastard, and eter of Pomfret. oe when they te ve oe a 2. _ their heads,
na Ww sper one anon a
r x
K. John. Thou hast made me giddy | 4 nq he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer’s wrist ;
With these ill tidings.—No-» , what says the world | Whilst he, Mie hohe , makes fearful action,
To your proceedings ? do no: seek to stuff With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling
My head with more ill news, - it is full, eves.
ast. But, if you be afear. to hear the worst, |I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,

Then let the w orst, unheard, f l'on your head. —_ | 'The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
K, John. Bear with mc, co sin; for 1 Was amaz q VV ith op en mouth swal Howl nga ts ulor’ S ni Ws:
Under the tide: but now I b-e athe again |! Who,

with his shears anc | measure in his hand,
Aloft the flood ; and can give ‘ audience

d |Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste
To any tongue, s peak it of what it will. pe falsely thrust upon contrary feet, )
i

Bast, How | have sped among the clergymen, ‘old of a many thousand warlike Fre inch,
The sums I have collected shall e Xpress. ir hat were embattled, and rank’d in Kent:
But, as I travelled hither through the land, Another lean unwash’d artificer
‘ find the people strangely faitasied ; !Cuts off his te ile, and talks of Arthur’s death.
Possess’d with rumours, full of idle dreams ; | K. John. Why seck’st thou te possess me with
Not knowing what they fear, at full of fear: these fears ?

And here’s a prophet, that I | ought with me Why urgest thou so oft voung Arthur’s death ?
From forth the streets of Pom -et, whom I found Thy hand hath murder’d him: I had miehty cause
With many hundreds treading on his heels ; To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him,

To whom he sung, in rude harsii-sounding rhymes,| Hub

. Had none, my lord! why, did you not pro-
That, ere the next Ascension-duy at noon, voke me? ' "
Your i leage=s should deliver up your crown, K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended
K, John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst By slaves that take their humours for a warrant

P thou so? ; 2 < To break within the bloody house of life :
eter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. (nd, on the winking of authority
A. John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him ; |p, understand a law: to know the meaning

And on that day, at noon, whe con he says Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns

ee a up my crown, le tt im be hang’d: More upon humour than advis’d respect
Deliver him to safety,? and return, | ub. Here is your hand and seal for what J
Fcr I must use thee.—O my gentle c ousin, | did
f a , a re ‘
‘ [Eau tfube rt with , €rer.| K. John. O, when the last account twixt heaven
Hear’st thou the news abroad, who are arriv’d? |

and ea “
to be made, then shall ‘his hand and seal
Witness a; err us to damnation
| How oft the sight of means to do if] deeds,
Makes deeds ill done! HL. idest not thou been by,

Bast. The French, my lord ; ‘aen’s mouths are/ |<.
full of it :
Besides, I met lord Bigot, and |: rd S: ulisbury,
(Wih eyes as red as new-enkin led fire,)

At a more, 1 Song to on le grave |A fellow by the hand of natu re mi irk’d,
Of .:thur, who, they say, is kill’ to-night | Quoted,* and sign’d, to do a deed of sha ame,
On your suggestion. | This olaaies had not come into my mind :
K. John, _. _ Gentle kinsman, go, But, taking note of thy abhorr’d aspéct,
And thrust thyself into their com anies : \Finding thee fit for blood: villany

1 Ba <i oe tis. : i 1s ‘ ‘ 33
I] ve a way to win their loves ay iin ; |Apt, liable, to be employ a in danger,
oa g them before me. II faintly broke with thee of Arthur’s death

St. I will sec < them out. |And thou, to be leare a to a king,

41. John. Nay, but make haste ; the better foot Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.
), be fore. ——— Hub. My lor ——
O, ie. me have no subject enemies, | dK. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or
When adverse forei igners affright my towns made a pause,

W h dreadful pomp of stout invasion !— |When I spake d: i ly what T purposed :
Be | torcury, set feathers to thy heels |Or turn’d an eye of doubt upon my face,

iA : ; avai
Ai 4 fly , like thought, from them to me again. |As bid me tell my tale in express wor da

sst. The spirit of the time shall t teach me speed, | Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break

[ Exit,
or - i off,
-- John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentle-| And those thy fears might have wrought fears in
man.— me 7
ce after him ; * he, perhaps, shall need But thou dids t understand me by m y Signs
a € messenger vetwixt me and the peers ; And didst in signs again p: arley with sin ;
i 210U a; hall ,_-, | Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,
Kt hn. M it ae ae - art, my liege. [Evxit. And, consequen tly, thy rude hand to act
A, John. My mother deac The deed, which both our tongues held vile to
Re-enter Hubert. name,
io} a
Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen|QUt of my sig at, and never see me more
to-night : My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd,

 

(1) Stunned, confounded. (2) Custody. { °(3) Deliberate consideration, (4) Observed,Byen al my pa at wilh ronks of foreign powers !

; ‘ay, in the body of this fleshly land,

This kingdom, this confine of blood Po brea

Hostility and civil tumult reiens

Between my conseik nee, and my cousin’s death,
Hub. Arin you against your other enemies

vil make a peate between your soul

oung Bi vthetn is alive: This hand of

t)}

and Vou,
mine
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand

Not painted with the crimson spots of blood
Within this bosom never enter’d yet

The dre fang vay motion o ( a murd’rous thought,
And you have slander’d natur: In my torr ;
Which, howsoever rude ext iorly,

Is yet the cover of a faire; mind

Seane TTP, RING

JOHN,

Pem, Sir, sir, tt inpalic Hive hath his privilege.

Bast, ’Tis tr ue ; to hurt his master, no man else,

Sal. This is the’ prison: What is he lies here ?

| [Seeing Arthur.

| Pem. O death, made proud with pure and prince-

ly beauty!

| The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.

| Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done,

Doth k: ly it open, to urge on revenge.

| Big. Or, when he doom’d this beauty to a grave,

Foun lit too precious-princely for a grave.

| Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you
behe os

Or have you read, or heard? or could you think ?

Or do you alae think, although you see,

O55

Than to be butcher of an innocent child. That you do see could t hought , without this object,

K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to|/Form such another This is the very top,

the peers, The height, the ere st. or crest unto the crest,

Throw this report on their incensed 1 : Of murder’s arms: thi is is os bloodiest shame,
And make them tame to their obedien The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,
Fofzive the comment my sion made That ever wall-ey’d wrath, or staring rage
Upon thy feature ; for my race was bli d, Presented to the ears of soft remorse.
And foul imaeinars cCcyes of b] ! Pem, All murders past d o stand excus’d inthis:
resented thee more hideous t 1 thou art, And this, $0 sole, and so unmate thable,
0, auswer not: bul to my closet Ss] i pite 4 holiness, a purity
Ihe anery lords, with all e: it l'o the yet-unbegotten sin of tin ne:
l eéniur ih Dul slowly: ru } more Last, §> And | ve a deadly bloodshe d but ua jest,

SCENE I11.—The same. Before the casile. En-

Is mu ' i
‘
b r i =ii ’ i i til
() I | if
1 ; ‘
L WO 10] {
>
Ent b
Bast. ( mm » Gislemper's
lords !
. : ae
The king, by 1 n
» [ "4 ; ' | I Gil Of US
° . 1 | !
Wh wills L ia Hii i i
Ars, sais - ‘ | ¢} '
\ ; ' ;
aLts , , ’ i?
That leaves the print of | eer it walks
a ; ,
teturn nd tell him so: 1 i i worst,
: : oi sine l } } si.ta%
Bast. Whate’er you think, good words, I think,

were bes
Sal. Our griefs
Bast. But there is fittle reason in your grief:

Therefore, ’Lwere rcason, you had manners now.

, and not pur manners, reason now

(1) His ewn body. (2} i. xpeditious,
(3) Private account. (4) Out of humour,

(5) } Py ly.

". Faun. aaa back ha Salisbury,

Exampled by this heinous spectacle.
Bast. It is a damned and a b loody work ;

The graceless action ofa heavy hand,
If that it be 1 ic work of any hi ind,

Sal. if that it be the work of anv hand ?—
\\ | | } il a | lieht, what vould ensue :
[t is th meful work of Hubert’s hand :
lhe practice, and the purpose, of the king :—
‘rom whose obedience I forbid my soul,
hneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
(And breathing to his breathless eXCE llenee,
The incense of t vow, a holy vow

Never to taste Lhe pli iSUl es of the world,
Never to be infected with delic ht

N ith ease and idleness,
rill I have set a glory to this hand,

iving it the worship of revenee.
. er
Pem. Big. Our souls religiously confirm thy

Wo d
Enter Hubert.
r] lords, lam hot with haste in seeking you:
Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you.
Sal. O ‘is bold, and blushes not at death :—

,
Ay nf, thou hateful ae cet thee gone!

Hub, lam no vill

Sal. Must I rob the law?

[ Dr awing his sword.
Past. ok yur sword is bright, si ; put it up again.
Sal. it till I sheath it in a elated s skin.

stand back, I

By heaven, I think, my sword’s as sharp as yours:
I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,
Nor tempt the danger of my true’ defence ;

Lest I, by marking « {your rage, forget

Your worth, your creatne ss, and nobility,

Big. Out, dun, hill dar’st thou brave a noble-
man
Hub, Not for my life: but yet I dare defend
My innocent life against an emperor.
Sal, Thou art a murderer.
Liu, Do not prove me so ;®

| (6) Hand should be head ; a glory is the circle of
rays v hich surr ot heads of saints in pictures,
) Itonest. (8) By compelling me to kill you,%

Be ee

 

 

 

356 KING

Yet, f amnone: Whose tongue soe’er speaks false,
Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.
Pem. Cut him to pie oe.
Bast. Keep the peace, I say.
Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall ath Faulconbridge.
Bast. Thou wert better gall the dev il, Salisbury
If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot,
Or teach thy hasty spleen to “ me shame,
[ll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword be time ;
Or Pll so maul you and your in mi te
That you shall think the devil is come from he .
Big. What wilt thou do, renowned F slic onbridg
Second a villain, and a murderer ?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.

Big. Who kill’d this prince ?}

Hub. ’Tis not an hour since I left him well:
I honour’d him, I lov’d him; and will we
My date of life ‘out, for his sweet life’: en
Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villany is not without such rhe a
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Like rivers of remorse? and innocency.
Away, with me, and all you whose soi uls 1 abhor
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house,
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.
Big. Away, toward Bury, to the dauphin there
Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire us
out. [Exeunt Lords.
Bast. Here’s a good world !—Knew you of this
fair work ?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn’d, Huber t.
Hub. o but hear me, sir.
Bast. Ha! Vl tell thee what ;
Thou art damn’d as black—nay, nothing is so
black ;
Thou art more deep damn’d than —— Lucifer :
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
Hub, Upon my soul,——
Bast. If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but despair,
And, if thou want’st a cord, the oid st thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb
Will serve to sfrangle thee ; a rush will be

!

A beam to hang thee on; or would’st thou drown
thyself,

Put but a little water in a spoon,

And it shall be as all the an,

Enough to stifle such a villa: in up.——
I do suspect thee very grievously.

Hub. If 1 in act, consent, or sin of thought,
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay
Let hell want pains enough to torture me! ~
J left him well. _

Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms.—
Tam amaz’d,? methinks; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of
How easy dost thou take all Engta
From forth this morsel of dead roy
The life, the right, and truth of all th; is realm
Is fled to heaven; and England now is left
To tug and scamble, and to part by the teeth
The unowed‘ interest of p roud-swe lling r state.
Now, for the bare-pick’d bone of majesty,

Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,

And snarleth in the gentle eves of peace :

Now powers from home, and discontents at home,
Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits

(As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast, )

(1) Moisture, (2) Pity, (8) Confounded.

   
 
 
      
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  

JOHN. Jict V.

The imminent decay of w reste -d pomp.

Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture® ean
Hold out this te mpest. Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed; V’ll to the king:

|'A thousand businesses are brief in hand,

|And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.
[Aareunt,

ACT V.
CENE I.—The same. A room in the palace.

” Paee King John, Pandulph wilh the crown,
| and attendants.

|
|
| —
a.

K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand
The circle of my glory. —

| Pand. Take arain
| Giving John the crown.
Ky this my hand, as holding of the pope,

Your sovereion greatness and authority.

K. John. Now keep your holy word: go meet
the French ;
| And from his holiness use all your power
To stop their marches, fore we are inflam’d.

Our discontented cou ntie s do revolt ;

Our people quarrel with obedience

Swearing alle giance, and the love of soul,

To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This infidel of mistemper’d humour

Rests by you only to be qualified.
Then pause not; for the present time’s so sick,
That present medicine must be minister’d,
|Or overthrow incurable ensues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this tem-

pest up, ;

Upon your stubborn usage of the pope
But, since you ' are a gentle convertite,'

My tongue shal 1 ush again this storm of war,
And ma uke fair we ath rin your blustering land.
On this Ascension-day, remember we IL

Linon your oath of service to the pope,
|Go I to make the French lay down their arms.
| Evil.
K. John. Is this Ascension-day ? Did not the

prophe [

Say, that, be fo re Ascension-day at noon,
ly crown I shi ule 1 give off? Even so I have:
I did suppose, it sho hd he aba nstraint :

-

Fost } 1.? ; | ;
But, heaven be thank d, it is but voluntary.

nothing there

> 7 y , , :
u yo orenst] . ny lon Lyon #) 97
put ] ¥C! Mg ic: London hat recely'd,
| ‘ ' . 7 +) } bs ) ,

Like a kind host, the dauphin and his powers :
Your nob] et 1 : } :
our nobies Will nol hear you, but are gone

lo offer rvice to your enemy ;

id wild amazement hurries up and down

1 little number of your doubtful friends.

K. John. Would not my lords return to me
again,

After they heard young Arthur was alive ?

Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the

streets

|An empty casket, where the jewel of life

By some ‘acun'a hand was robb’d and ta’en away.
| K. John. That villain “Hubs rt told me, he did
live.

| Bast. Sc ,on my soul, he did, for aug ht he knew,

)
|But wherefore do you droop ?.1 } )
re a u Grooy \ hy look you sad 7

Be great in act, as you have been in thought :
(4) Unowned.

(5) Girdle, (6) Convert,Scene II. KING JOHN. 357

And follow unacquainted colours here ?
What, here ?—O nation, that thou could’st remove !
(That Neptune’s arms, who clippeth? thee about,
Threaten the threat’ner, and outface the brow | Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself,
Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes, | And grapple thee unto a Pagan shore ; :
That borrow their behaviours from the great, | Where these two Christian armies might combine
|The blood of malice in a vein of league,

And not to spend it so unneighbourly !

Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust,
Govern the motion of a kingly eye:
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;

Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntless spirit of resolution.

i
Away; and glister like the god of war, | Jew. A noble temper dost thou show in this;
When he intendeth to become the field: And rreal aftec ‘tions, wrestling in thy bosom,
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence Do make an earthquake of nobility.

What, shall they seek the lion in his den, O, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
And fright him there? and make him tremble there ? Between con npulsion and a brave respect !4
QO, let it not be sar FP orage, and run Let me wipe off this honourable dew,

To meet displeasurt Rarthi r from the doors; ‘hat site rly doth progress on thy cheeks :

i

And pple th hi re he come so nigh My heart hath melted at a lady’s tears
' ° d ’
7

i cy mM e ne Coil
K. Jo The legate of the pope hath been in ordinary inundation ;

| Sut this effusion of such manly drops,
And I have made a happy peace with him ; This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,

And he hath promis’d to dismiss the powers! Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz *d
led by the dauphin. Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
Bast O. inglorious league ! Figur’d quite o’er with burning meteors.
Shall we. upon thé footing of our land, Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, And with a creat heart heave away this storm:
Insinua nari 1 base tric Commend these waters to those baby eyes,
To arms in’ iY halla } lless boy, That never saw the giant world enrag’d ;
4 cocker’d? silken vi _ brave our fields, Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Mocking the air with colours idly spr d, Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep
And find no check? Let us, my lie re to arms Into the p Irse of rich prosperity,
Perchance, the ear tinal cannot make your peact As Lewis hims if :——S0, noble s, shall you all,
Or if he do, let it at least be said, F That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.
They aaty we had 2 purpos i. defence.
' K. 7 Have you the ai Ang of this presen! Enter Pandulph attended,
Lime - as And even there, methinks, an angel spake:
Ba A way then. Wi rood couras 7¥ , know, Loolre, where the holy legate comes apace,
Our p party may well meeta prouderfoe. [Exewnl.\'fo give us warrant from the hand of heaven ;
SCENE II.—A plain, near St. Edmund’s- Bury. And on our clic ns set the name of right,
tin fan meee aute Ralichaury. Malun Poy) VILA hoary Dreach,
some’ Bicot “e c And fer ke S ry, Melun, Fem ; i Hail, noble prince of France!
’ ; this, —King John hath reconeil’d
Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, Himself tome: his spirit is come in,
And keep it safe for our remembrance : Chat so stood out against the holy church,
Return the precedent to these lord rain : [he t metropolis and see of Rome:
That. having our fair order written down, rh {] hreat’ning colours now wind up,
Roth they, and we, perusing o’er these notes, And tam savage spirit of wild war ;
May know wherefére’we took the sacrament, Phat, like a lien foster’d up at hand,
And keep our faiths firm ind inviolable. It may lie ently at the foot of peace,
~ Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. And be no further harmful than in show.
And. noble dauphin, albeit we swear Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will notback ;
A voluntary zeal, and unurg’d faith, I am too high-born to be propertied,°
To your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince, Co | SCC “ondary at control,
I am not glad that’such a sore of ti rOr use ful s rving-man, a id instrument,
Should seek a nlaster by Cc yntfemn’d rey It, ‘lo any sovereign state thi ‘oughout the world,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound Your breath first ki indled the dead coal of wars,
Ry making man) - ©. it grieves my soul, Between this ane is'd kingdom and myself,
That | must draw this metal from my side, And brought in matter that should feed this fire ;
Ty he a widow-maker; O, and there, (ni ; now ’tis far too huge to be blown out
: With that same weak wind which enkindled it.

. ‘ | 1 neh
Where honourable rescue, and defence,
|

Cries out upon the name of S LLISOUrY :
7 such is the infection of the time,

You taught me baw to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,

That, for the health and physic of our right, yx a, thrust this enterprize into my heart;

j | And come you now to tell me, John hath made

;

Ve nol le | but with the very hand

ye cannot Gca
Of etern injustice and COT fused wront’,.— His | yeace W ith Rome ? Wh at is that peace ton ne?
et tern in nity. O my grieved friends! l, ot he honour of my marriage-bed,
oa. 6 an cea, ela AE Pthie tala | After young A ‘hur, claim this land for mine ;

"hat we, the sons and children of this iste, i ;

rane horn to sec so sad an | as (hes; ‘nd, now it is half-conquer’d, must I back,
Were born to sec so saad ann yur as ) : ’ ?
Wherein we step after a stranger march Because that John hath made his peace with Rome
Upon her gentle bosom, and All un |Am I Rome’s slave ? What penny hath Rome borne,

¥ g > ' aLit ive?

I ry an! Ss, (I must withdri aw and weep What men provide dd, what munition sent,

Her enemies
Upon the spot o f this enfore’d cause, )
To grace the gentry of a land remote,

|
(2) Fondled. (3) Embraceth.| (4) Love of country.

To underprop this action? 1is’t not
That undergo this charge ? who else but I,

(1) Forces. (5) Appropriated.

   
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
  
    
 
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
     
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  

 

en nas BES Oe Se eee

=hana

 

  
  
    
    
  
   
   
     

358 KING

And such as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and m: sintain this war?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out,
Vive le roy! as I have bank’d their towns ?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this easy match play’d for a crown ?
And shall I now give o’er the yielded set ?
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
Panda. You look but on the outside of this work.
Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return
Till my attempt so much be gloritied
As to my ample hope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war,
And cull’d these fiery spirits from the world,
To outlook! conquest, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.

[Z'rianpet sounds, |

What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?

Enter the Bastard, altended.

Bast. According to the fair “e of the world,
Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak :—

My holy lord of Milan, from the king
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ;
And as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pand. The dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
And will not-temporize with my entreaties ;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath’d,
The youth says well:—Now hear our English king;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.

He is prepar’d; and reason too, he should:
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness’d masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair’d sauciness, and boyish troops,
The king doth smile at; and is well prepar’d
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
That hand, which had the strength, even at your
door,

To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch ;2
To dive, like buckets, in concealed’ wells ;
To crouch in litter of your stable planks ;
To lie, like pawns, lock’d up in chests and trunks ;
To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill, and shi ike,
Even at the crying of your nation’s crow,
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman —
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o’er his aiery® towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.— |
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, |
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb |
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame: |
For your own ladies, and pale-visag’d maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums ;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their neelds® to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody incline tion.

Lew. There end thy brave,’ and turn thy face|

     
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
       
   
    
  
     
   
   
    
  
 
  
  
    
  
    
  
 
   
     
  
  
   
  
    
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
    
   
    
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
   
  

JOHN. Act V.

Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will
cry oul;
And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start
An echo with the ‘clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum ig ready brac d,
That shall reverberate all as Joud as thine ;
Sound but another, and another shi ill,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin’s® ear,
|And mock the deep-mouth’d thunder :. for at hand
|( Not trusting to this halting legate here,
| Whom he hath us’d rather for sport than need, )
Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits
|A bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.
Lew. Stxike up our drums, to find this danger out.
Bast. And thou shall find it, dauphin, do not
doubt, { Exeunt,
SCENE JIII.—The same. A field of battle.
“llarums. Enter Kine John and Hubert.
K. John. Wow goes the day with us? O, tell
me, Hubert.
Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty ?
K. John. This fever, that hath ‘ro ubled mec so
long,

r

ce -ad for our interest, and our being here.
‘fies
|

{

\Lies heavy on me; O, my heart ” sick !

Enter a Messen

Jes - My lord, your valiant iis Faulcon
bridge,
Desir yours y to leave the field :
And send him wot! <r by me, which way you go,

K. John. Tell him, towel Swinstead, to the

bbey there.

Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply,
That was e xpected by the ch iu phin here,
Are wreck’d three nichts aco on Goodwin sands.
This news was broucht to Richard but even now:
The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.

kK, John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news. ——
Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight ;

Weakness possesseth me, and Iam faint. [Eve.

SCENE IV.—The same. Another part of the
same, Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and
others.

Sal, I did not think the king so stor’d with fr iends,
P em. Up once again ; put spirit in the F rench ;
If they miscarry. we mise arry too.
u. That misbegotten devil, Faule onbridge,
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left
the field,
Enter Melun wounded, and led by soldiers.
ae Lead me to the revolts of England here.
. When we were happy, we had other names.
Pe m. It is the count Me lun.
Sal. Wounded to death.
Mel. Fly, noble English, y you ire boug ghtand sold ;®

iUnthre ad the rude eye of rel bellion,

And welcome home again discarded faith.

in peace, |Seek out king John, and fall before his feet ;

We grant, thou canst outscolfl us: fare thee well ;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler.

Pand. Give me leave to speak, |
Bast. No, I will speak.
Lew. We will attend to neither :—|

Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war

1) Face down. (2) Leap over the hatch.

lu pon the altar at Saint Edmund’ s-Bury ;

For, if the French be lords of this loud day,

i Hle'® means to ree onre nse the pains you take,
By cutting off your hea ‘Thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,

,

Even on that altar, where we swore to you

Dear amity ifs everlasting love.

~ 2 (5) Nest. (6) Needles. (7) Boast. (8) Sky's.
(3) Covered, (4) The crowing of a cock.|(9) A proverb intimating treachery, :

(10) Lewis,Scene V, VI, VIT. KING JOHN, 339

Sal. May this be possible? may this be true | Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,| Lew. Well; keep good quarter,’ and good caré
Retaining but a quantity of life ; to- night ;
Which bleeds a way, even as a form of wax The day shall not be up so soon as I,
re solved from 7 rure ’gainst the fire ? : To try the fair adventure of to- morrow. [Exeunt.
hat in the world should make me now deceive
Since I must lose the ae “It dee eit ? “—" |SCENE Viwin open place in the neighbour-
Why should I then be false 5 since it is true, | hood of Swinstead abbey. Enter the Bastard
That I must die here, and live hence by truth ? and Hubert, meeting,
I say again, if Lewis do win the day, | Hub. Who’s there? speak, ho! speak quick.-
He is forsworn, if e’er those eyes of yours or I shoot.
Behold another day break in the east: | Bast. A friend:—What art thou ?
Buteven this night,—whose black contagious breath}; Hub. Of the part of England.
Already smokes about the burning crest Bast. Whither dost thou go?
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,— | Hub. What’s that to thee? Why may not I
Even this ill night, your breathing shallexpire; | demand
Paying the fine of rated treachery, Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, | ast. Hubert, I think.
If Lewis, by your assistance, win the day. | Hub, Thou hast a perfect thought :
Commend me to one Hub rt, with your king ; I will, upon all hazards, well believe
The lové of him,—and this respect besides, Thou art my friend, that know’st my tongue so well:
For that my grandsire was an Sng ens in,— Who art thou?
Awakes my conscience to c all this Bast. VVho thou wilt: an if you please,
In lieu? whereof, I pray you, a ir me hence Chou may’st befri nd me so much, as to think,
From forth the noise and rumour of the field; | come one way c’ the Plantagenets.
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless
In peace, and part this diy and my soul night,
With contemplation and devout desires. Hfave done me shame :—Brave soidier, pardon me,
Sal. We do believe thee,—And beshrew? my soul, | That any accent, b-eaking from thy tongue,
tart | do love the favour and the form Should ’scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
Of this most fair occasion, by the which Bast. Cc ome, coyne; sans* compliment, what
We will untread the steps of damned flight ; news cua {
And, like a bated and retired flood, Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of
Leaving our rankness and irregular course, night,
Stoop low within tl e bounds we hay Yerlook’d, lo find you out.
And calmly run on in obedience, Bast. Brief, then ; and what’s the news ?
Even to our ocean, to our great king John.—— Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the nig ht,
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ; Bleck? fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
For I do see the cruel pangs of death Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news ;
Richt* in thine eye.—Away, my friends! New(|I am no woman, [’ll not swoon at it.
flight; . Hub. The king, I { ar, is poison’d by a monk:
And happy newness,* that intends old right. 1 left him almost speechless, and broke out
To {Exeunt, leading off Melun.| To acquaint you wit h this evil ; that you might
SCENE V.—The : et a e* a camp. The better arm you to the sudde n time,
ton: T owila mail Ms trai Than if you had at Icisure known of this.
. Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him?
Lew. The sun of heuven, methought, was loath} pyys. A monk, I tcll you; a resolved villain,
to set; Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
But stay’d, and made the western welkin® blush, Yet speaks, and, pere iventure, may recover,
When the English m u’d backward their own Bast. Who didst tl. \u leave to tend his majesty ?
eround, ‘ Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all
In faint retire: O, bravely can e we ou, come back,
When wit h a volley of our needless shot, And brought prince Henry in their company ;
After such bloody toil, we bid good night ; At whose request the ing hath pardon’d them,
And wound our tatter’d colours clearly up, And they are all aboui his majesty.
Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Bast. Witbhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
Enter a Messencer. And tempt us not to bear above our power !——

linet ns as austen tan Qari’ I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power® this night,

Mess. here is my pris + ag What news? |Passing these flats, are taken by the tide,

Lew. The count Melur | . et the Be 1.1,/ These Lincoln washes have devoured them ;

Mess. The count Melun is slain, the Sage! My self, well-mounted, hardly have escap’d.
lords, Hon aff’: Away, before! conduct me to the king ;

2» his persuasion 1 \ ; ’ .
By hits persu ~ © as ‘| doubt he will be deac, orereI come. [Eveunt.
a oe supPIYs which you have wish’d so long,
Al way. and sunk, on Go Lwin sands, SCENE VII.—The crchard of Swinstead abbey.

L ew. “Al , toel shrewd news !—Beshrew thy very Enter Prince Hongé , Salisbury, and Bigot.

. ! . “7

he LY 7 fa ? ea P. Flen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood
] did nol th nink - He so Re Mecensny oh ths a > Is touch'’d corruptibly : and his pure brain
As this hath mi “ics dty tinge ayy es |(Which some suppose the soul’s frail. dwelling-
King John did fly, an h our 01 two before house, )

‘ : 1 _—— ight ' 1, X - _¥ )
The stumbling night did part our weary powers : Do th, by: the idle comm nts that it makes,

(1) In allusion to the images made by witches. ow
(2) Place. (3) Ill betide. (4) Iinmediate. (7) In your posts or ar
(5) Innovation. (6) Sky. 08) Without 0Sores RC Tee

Pe ann ae

 

bate

 

  

360 KING JOHN. Act F.

Foretel the ending of mortality. As I upon advantage did remove,
Enter Pembroke. Were in the washes all unwarily,

|Devoured by the xpecte
|Devoured by the unexpected flood.
Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds} ~~ :

belief, |

That, being brought into the open air

It would allay. the REO aN a hi |My liege ! my lord !—But now a king,—now thus.
that fell poison which assaileth him. P i] * an y

: ; ; . Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop.

P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orthard) yy, > aes , rae

[The king dies.
Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an
ear.

 

isa at surety of the wor! ld, what hope, what stay,
one ; Sr ale When this was now a kine, and now is clay!
Doth he still rage ? [Exit Bigot ? ee
5 ‘ asin de Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind
Pem. He is more patient ee 4s 7 ?
: Ee To do the office { wr thee of revenge ;
Than when you left him; even now he sung. nae y soul shall wait-on thee to Meav
~ “s And then my soul shall wait on thee to 1caven,
P. Hen, O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes,|‘_ 5 ict | fal wide
In their continua will no ca ie. ‘ 71AS 1t on earth hath been thy servant still.
ee ice, will not feel 1 ae Now, no ou stars, that move in your right
Death, having prey rd upon the outward parts, sage pt et , ™
Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now vy velit. @
: a ee ee ,__| Where be your powers? Show now your mended
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wouns “+a .
With many legions of strange fantasies ; scl Aidan viet ‘as re]
p i \ LMLty { rn with me acain,
W hich, in their throng and press to t! 17) Sa ad norpehial shame
Conf were J Pile ato uction, and perpetual shame,
onlound themselves, is slrange, itnat ¢ i A Pine faint es
shel ain VU oO} le Wi door ot Our tainting fand:
ae ae a a t fetus seek I aight we shall be sought;
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, a very hasle Pee
y " . — ru e AIS,
Who chants a doleful hymn to hi b; cae 4 vou know not then so much ab we
™ ' £ = . ary ft KULOW IO t f O mM ; as :
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sin; LtAGl al t. atthe? ob aaa 6.
“hg : _- : rancuiph is within at rest,
His soul and body to their lasting res ee came from thé dauotin
3 L 5 : : ir since me irom the dé :
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for youare] ; ay him such offers c our ie ~ ,
. , - Lina oring irom nim suci sers O 5 mCCe
To set a form upon that indigest pagers. ain ss Totes :
. oe ; we } } ] ir an respect may take,
Which he hath left so shapeless and so ru ; ‘1
‘vith purpose presently to leave this war.
Re-enter Bigot and altendants, who bring in Ki Bast. He 1 ii the rather do it, w oe n he sees
John in a « ,. Vurselves well sinewed to our defi
oe a Sal. Nay, it is in a manner dor > pet :
K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-!p be aeten in FA = ly
f - . - i many carriaves he hath despatch’d
room ; tn thee ’ nd put his cause : id arrel
It would not out at windows, 1 do an dade Das ue
l‘o the disposing of the cardinal
There is so hot a summer in bosom, VA , lf, myself, and other lord
‘ : VILA WhAOM VOUrselil, MYSE , ali ner ioras
That all my adlils aresabie up to dust: oe} “ “n ’
} Yr If i think meet, this afternoon will post
Iam a scribbled form, drawn with a pen as a te this business happily.
. AU COTE nimnat LIUS VUSITICSS Na
Upon a parchment; and against this fire oak St ne it } ; Aol waa ee noble ial
: ? : ie ,e1 be S80 :—ANt i ioble pr “e
Do I shrink up. cya hat unc enue ae, nee,
; . YY ILI OLN princes tn ma e8 c spar
P. Hen. How fares your maiesty ? Shall it 1 1 your f ther *s funeral rae
: a : abel, Shall wait upon your father’s funeral.
K. John. Poison’d,—ill fare ;—dead, forsook: D Ty YE ROO s ita Senate hin? ;
cast off: ’ F fr. tien. At Worcester must his body be interr’d;
% ‘ . : . or so he will’d it
And none of you will bid the winter come, ia Th ttha. ie de
A, heat Mee tne finitare | i : ihither shall it then.
Io thrust his icy fingers in my maw : Asal hashthe en
ae. Pia bs ae. ind happily m your sweet allen on
Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their course mie | eas | othe
1m oS ae ‘ . ‘ i | | i e and ZIOry Ol { the land!
Through my burn’d bosom; nor entreat the north! p.. <) Aa pe
l‘o wi , With all submission, on my knee,

rr P ® 7 ° ;
lo make his bleak winds kiss my parched lins. Se
“ke ry 17 Ta a : q i do bequeath mv { ithful services
And comfort me with cokd:—I do not ask you much. 4 '
: And true subjection everlastingly.
I beg cold comfort ; and vou are so siralt,? baal And 4 ae { } 2 our lov ]
‘ . a “ iS. 8 wile 11KeE LeEnaer ) ove we { ,
And so ingratefui, you deny me t > ROAR,

; : Tt ''To rest without a spot for « yermore,
P. Hen, O, that there were some virtue in my > 1 i

. P. tien. | have a kind soul, that would give y
tears, than! . on : ould give you
That might relieve you! ih nicotene biol Teel be da hea with ¢
4 ; ; { nows n now iC . OUL Wit ears
K. Jo a The salt ms them IS hot.— } sf QC). let ie my t} ty | il Wal te
Within me is a hell; and there the poison bein nts tire ee i en
. 7 ' ce it hath been beforehand with our criefs,~
Is, as a fiend, confin’d to tyrannize | ry se oe ae hall)
; . .s : (a2 DIS Ful iand never did nor s
On unreprievable condemned blood. i ia nt 4 Se eee ee
Le § roud loot of a conqueror,
’ } » } . ‘ ‘ ‘ . ; : “oe .
Enter the Bastard. but when tt first did help to wound itself.
Bast. QO, Iam sealde d with 1) \ } nt mow Nh, IN ic é a France > are Cl me Nome as ain,
And spleen of speed to see your majesty. ype on ch aie the world in arms,
K. John. O cousin, thou art come to s¢ mineeye:|A2¢ We shall sho k them: Nought shall make us
The tackle of my heart is ick’d and burn’d ; re ae i tae 1
And all the shrouds, wherew vith my life should sail, |‘! "gana to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt,
Are turned to one thread, one little hair:
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, ene
Which holds but till thy news be utl red ; |
And then all this thou see’st, is but a clod, The tragedy of King John, though not written
And module? of confoun: dled rovalty |with the utmost power of Shakspeare. is varie
p wee ‘speare, is varied
Bast. The dauphin is preparing hithers siniol Ww h a very pleasing interchange of incidents :
Wh ] > 1 } | ] mr) ermen s and
ere, heaven he knows, how we shall a im : aracters. ‘The lady’s grief is ve ry affecting; and

3 wear | Tal | matas nt o 3
For, in a night, the best part of my nde wel thi character of the Bastard contains that mixture

of greatness and levity, which this author de lighted

(1) Narrow, avaricious, (2) Model. to exhibit. JOHNSON,nae ie

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KING RICHARD I.
Act V ome SC le 4

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KING HENRY IV. PART l.
Aci V.—Scene 4.f ’

Kine Rich ird the Second.

Edmund of Langley, Dulce of York: 2 uncles to th

John of Ga ml, Dube of Lani rer; \ a g

Henry, surnamed Bolingbrolce, D (
os son to Jolin oJ Gat , afterwards AKtIg

He nry IV.
Duke of Aumerle, son to the Duke of Yi
Mowbray. Duke of No :
Duke of Surrey.
Earl of Salisbury.
Bushy, } ;
Barcot, + crealures to Kine Ii
Green,
Earl of Northumbs rland:
Henry Percy, his son.

SCENE
ler Kin ¥

other nobles, with hiin.

O:. D John of Gaunt time-honour’d Lancast

I.—Lo

>e 4 a ; ; ‘ ;
Richard, allended > John aur

Hast thou, acc vr to thy th and | {i
Brought hith aphpesd Hereford | bold son:
Hlere to make vood the bol is | :
Which then our leisure would not let us .
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow!
Gaunt, I have, my lt
K. Rich. Tell me m vcr, nd
him,
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice ;
Or worthily as a cood subicct ld.
On some known ground of | i in him?
Gaunt. As near as I ¢ | him on
rument,—
On som apparent danger 1 in him,
Aim’d at your highness ; no inveterate malice.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence ; fac
to face,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hea

The accuser, and the accu

High-stomach’d are they both, and ful
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
Re-enter atlendants, with Bolingbroke and Norfoll
Boling. May many y:
My gracious sovercicn, my
Nor. Each day still better other’s happiness ;
Until the heavens, envying earth’s go od hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one
ters us,
As well appeareth by the cause you come ;
Namely, to appeal? each other of high treason.—
Cousin of Here ‘ford, what dost thou object

(3) Uninhabitable,

ars of happy days befall
most loving liege

(1) Bond. (2) Charge.

 

BY BT

but flat-

 
  
    
   
 
  
    
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
   
  
 
   
  
  
  
      
    
 
  
   
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
   

ES] TiED.
y > col TRIS |
i Ross. Lord Wi oughby, Lord Vitzwater.
( Ish i008 of Westimins ter.
f bother Lord.
. ) y cae ae . , a
I tf, ‘ ir OSLephen ocroop,
( OF} eLSitn le
° Ps.) :
i i act ‘ .
‘ i { .
XY 01
iil / on Clis Queen.
T f i

ers, soldiers, two gardeners,

, groom, and other attendants,

Ln En land and Wales.

a ny

Ik, Thomas Mowbray ?

b I ven be the record of my
it
Ir | (| Vol 1 of a sub} et’: love,
ler ing the precious safety of my prince
(nd fr I n other misl otten hate,
Come I appellant to this princely presence.—
: q \owbra , do I turn to thee,
And mark ng well; for what I speak,
body shall mak ood upon this earth,
) 11 er it in heaven.
i i i | Isc! in
l‘oo i to | lt bad to live;
Since, e fair and crystal ts the sky,
i | ‘| iat in it fly.
(jne i ite { riore QO avr! ivate the note,
With a foul ne stuff I thy throat ;
And wish (so please my sovereign,) ere I move,
What my ie speaks, my right-drawn sword
\ }
Nor. L my cold words here accuse my zeal
| of a Woman’s war,
j cia i two eager tongues,
{ betwixt us twain:
bl is hot, that must be cool’d for this,
Yet« I not of such tame patic nce boast,
» be hush’d, and nought at ull to say:
| _the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
ym GIVit is and spurs to my free specch ;
\ 1 else would post, until it had return’d
e terms of tr n doubled down his threat
ng aside his hich biood’s royalty,
And Iet him be no kinsman to my liege,

Id at hit : :

Call him—a : sla nderous coward, and a villain:

Which to maintain, I would allow him odds;
\nd meet him, were I tied to rum a-foot

Even to the frozen 4 res of the Alps,

Gr any other cround ie jitable?

Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.

Mean time, let this di fend my loyalty,—

By all my hopes, most falsely doth he ‘lie,
‘Boling. Pale trembling coward, there

my gage,

LI spit

I throw

22Re Teel

Be ere

 

Cae

nner teen ts core ota

362

Disclaiming here the kindred of a king ;
And lay aside my high blood’s royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except:
If guilty dread hath left the ‘e so much stre ngth,
As to take up mine honour’s pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rites of knigh thood e ise,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have ‘spoke, or thou canst worse devise.
Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear,
Which gently lay’d my knighthood on my shoulder,
Pll answer thee in any fair a
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial :
And, when I mount, alive may I not light,
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight !
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mow-
bray’s charge?
It must be great, that can inherit! us
So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prov
it true ;—
That Mowbray hath receiv’d eight thousand nobles,
In name of lending» for your highness’ soldiers ;
The which he hath detain’d for lewd? employments
Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Besides I say, and will in b: a mi ove,—
Or here, or elsewhere, to the ‘thest verge
That ever was survey’d by English eye,—
That all the trea sons, for these ¢ iahteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and
spring, ;
Further I say,—and further will maintain
Upon his bad life, to mi: ike all this good,—
That he did plot the duke of Gloster’s death ;
Suggest? his soon-b a ving adversaries ;
And, consequently, like a traitor cot
Sluic’d out his innocent soul through streams of
blood :
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel’s, cries,
Even from the tonrueless caverns of the earth,
To me for justice, and rough chastisement ;
And by the glorious worth of my descent
This arm shall do it, or this life be s

 

pent.
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution

soars !—
Thomas of Norfolk, what say’st thou to this ?
Nor, O, let my sove rel on turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while-be deaf,
Till I have told this slander,of his blood,‘
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar.
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and
ears:
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom’s heir,
(As he is but my father’s brother’s son,)
Now by my sceptre’s awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul;
He is our subject, Mowbrey, so art thou;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat , thou liest!
Three parts of that receipt I had for Cala:
Disburs’d J duly to his highness’ soldiers:
The other part reserv’d | by consent ;
For that my sovercign liege was in my debt
Upon remainder of a dear account,
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:
Now swallow down that lie ————F or Gloster’s|
death,——
I slew him not; but to my own disgrace,

y

(1) Possess. (2) Wicked. (3) Prompt.
(4) Reproach to his ancestry. (5) Charged.

KING RICHARD II,

  
   
 
 
 
 
   
     
   
   
  
  
   
    
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
  
   
 
    
     
  
    
    
    
    
  
   
  
  
     
    
   
  
  
  
  
    
    

 

| Neglected my sworn duty in that case,—
|For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honourable father to my foe,
|Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
|A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul.
| But, ere I last receiv’d the sacrament,
iI did confess it; and exactly begre’d
|Your grace’s pardon, and, I hope, I had it.
rhis is my fault: As for the rest appeal’d,°
[t issues from the rancour of a villain,
\ recreant and most degenerate traitor ;
Which in myself { boldly will defend ;
And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Upon this overweening® traitor’s foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Even in the best blood chamber’d in his bosom :
In haste whereof, most he artily I pray
your highness to assign our trial day.
AK. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul’d by
me ;
LLet’s purge this choler without letting blood :
his we preseribe though no physician ;
Deep maiice makes too deep incision:
Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed ;

= Ay
)

Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed.—
Crood uncle, let this end where it begun:
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my
lhrow down, my son, the duke of Norfolk’s gage.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.
Gaunt. When, Harry? when?
Obedience bids, I should not bid ‘txain, ;
K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there
Vor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:
I one my duty owes; but my fair name,
(Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,)
l‘o dark dishonour’s use, thou shalt not have.
'd, impeach’d, and baffled here

.

’

Pierc’d to the soul with slander’s venom’d spear ;
vl

he which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breath’d this poison,

s eS :

Ke. Rich. Rage must be withstood:
Give me his gage :—Lions make leopards tame.

1” 7 ‘

JVYor. Yea, but not « hang e their spots: take but

my shame,
\nd I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is—spotless reputation ; that away
‘len are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
\ jewel in a ten-times-barr’d-up chest ©

[s—a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
‘line honour is my life; both grow in one ;
lake honour from me, and my oe is done
hen, dear my liege, mine honour let me try ;
in that I live, and for that will re die

;

1
A. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; de
oting. O, God defend my soul from such fou

Shall I seem crest-fallen In my father’s sicht

}Or with pale wey , ar-fe mpeach my height

nf : ;
Betore this ou Md dasta ide Ire my tongue

Shall wound my > Seiaielne with such feeble wrong,
}Or sound so base a parle, my teeth re tear

The slavish motive of recanting fear :

|And spit it bleeding in his hi; oh siser ice,

iWhere shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray’ $
face. | Exit Gaunt,

(6) Arrogant, (7) No advantage in delayScene JT, III. KIN¢

K. Rich. We were not born t
me und :

Which since we

irae ‘annot do to make yi ou friends,
be ready, iS your lives shall answer it

At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert’s ;
rr ) i
Phere shall your swords and lances arbitrate
lhe swelline difference of

day

ol vour settled hate:

« : es ,
Ace we cannot at ye! ¥ mu, we sh ull SCC
Justice desi nh the victor’s chivalry.—
Marshal, command our officers at ‘arms
Be reacy to direct these home alarms. [Exeun
SCE.AN 5 If.—The same. 4 room in the Duke of

Lancaster’s p uace, Enter G

of Gloster.

Gaunt, Alas't the nart? rs id in Gi ; rs 15)

‘ i di

Doth more solicit me, | i your exe ns,
To stir awainst t ute 3 of his life ;
But since correction thin th hands,
Which made the fault chat we eann ct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heave n:
Who, hen he see e hi urs Tipe on ¢ urth,
Will rain h ut vengeance on offenders’ heads.

Duch. Finds brotherh i in th no sharpe:

spur ?
Hath love in thy old | i no living fire?
EKdward’s seven sons, reof sell
Were as seven phials of his sacred
Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
Some of those se. dried by 1 course,
Some of those br y I d Inies cu
But Thomas, mv a rd, my iif , MV Wloster,—
One phial full of Eds s ‘red blood
One flourishi bra 1 ol most royal t,—
Is crack’d, and all the precious li
Is hack’d down, an 1 ves all led
By enyy’s hai i, ar eC! l
Ah, Gaunt! his b thine bed, t
womb,

That metal, that selfmould, that fashion’d thee.
Made him a man; and thouch thou liv’st, an

breath’st,
Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent*
In some large measure to thy father’s death
In that thou seest thy wretched brother di
Who was the model of thy father’s life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slauchter’d
Thou show’st the naked patniway Lo thy life
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we enti\le—patience
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts,
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is—to ’venge my Gloster’s death
Gaunt. Heaven’s is the quarrel ;
substitute,
His deputy anointed in his sight,
Hath caus’d his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lilt
An angry arm against his minister

Duch. Where then, alas! may lc ompl Lin myself?

Gaunt. To heaven, the widow’s champion an

defence.

Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.

Thou go’st to Coventry, there to behold

Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight

QO, sit my husband’s wrongs on Hereford’s spear,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray’s breast!
Or, if misfortune miss the first career,

Be Mowbray’s sins so heavy in his bosom,

That they may break his foaming courser’s back,

(2) Show. (3) Relationship.

(1) Reconcile. ior
(5) A base villain,

(4) Assent,

for heaven’s

i
i
}
|
|
;
]

|

RICHARD It. 363

o sue, but to com-! And throw the rider head long im the lists,

\ caitiff® recreant® to my cousin Hereford !

Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother’ s wife,

With her companion ‘erief must end her life.
Gaunt. Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry :

\s much good st ay with thee, as go with me!
Duch. Yet one word more -—Grief boundeth

where it falls,

Not with the « mpty he llowne , but weight :

L take my leave before I have be gun 3

‘or sorrow ends not when it seeme th done,

Commend me to my een Edmund York.

Lo, this is all:—Na , yet depart not so ;

Though his Le all, do not so Quite kly £0;

I shall 1 Inember more, Bid him—O, what P—

all gou speed at Plashy’ visit me.

\lack, and what shall good cld York the re see,

But empty lod rings and unfurnisth’d walls,

Unpeopled offices, untrodde n stones ?

(nd what cheer there for welco me, but my groans ?

lherefore commend me; let him not come there,

‘l’o seek out sorrow that dwells eve ry where:

Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die ;

Phe last leavs of th e lakes my weeping eye.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IlI.—Gosford Green, near Coventry.

j t vit, and a throne. Heralds, &c. at-
len . Enter the Lord Marshal, and Aumerle.
Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm’d?
“ium. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.
Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Stays but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet.
“lum. Why then, the champions are prepar’d,

r nothing but his majesty’s approach.

Enter King Richard, who
lukes his seat on his throne; Gaunt, and several

en, who take their places. A lrumpet is
id answered by another trumpet with-

folk in armour, preceded by

K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion
he cause of his arrival here in arms:
Ask him his name; and orderly proceed
l’o swear him in the justice of his cause.
Mar. In God’s name, and the king’s, say who
Lhou art,
nd why thou com’st, thus knightly clad in arms:
inst what man thou com’st, and what thy
quarrel:
Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath;
{nd so defend thee heaven, and thy valour!
Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbrdy, duke of
N orfolk ;
Who hither come engaged by my oath
(Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate ')
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,

To God, my king, and my succeeding issue,

Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me ;
And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm,

‘To prove him, in defending of myself,

\ traitor to my God, my king, and me:
And, as I truly fig ht, defend me heaven!
[He takes his seat.

Trumpet sounds. Enter Bolingbroke in armour,
preceded by a herald.

K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
| Both who he is, and why he cometh hither

(6) Cowardly. (7) Her house in Essex,Sh aaa

See

4 ae ee

 
  
 

SERENE:

3 ee.

< paess :

pay ae a eemane inn

—

     
   
     
  
    
   
  
   
    
 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
   
    

364

Thus plated in habiliments of war ;
And formally according to our law

Depose him in the justice of his cause.

}

    
   

  

KING RICHARD Il. Act I
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace

His golden uncontroll’d enfranchisement,

More than my dancing soul doth celebrate

Mar. What is thy name? and wher« fore com’st| This feast of battle with mine adversary.

thou hither,

Before king Richard, in his royal lists
Against whom comest thou ; and what

Speak like a true knight, so defend thee
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lance:

Derby,
Am Is who ready here do stand in art

in

fost mighty liege,—and my companion peers,
? Take from my mouth the wish of happy years :

’sthy quarrel?|As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,*
heaven ! Go Lto fight: Truth hath a quiet breast.
ster, and K, Rich. arewell, my lord: securely I espy

 

'Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
trial hal, and bepin.

To prove, by heaven’s grace, and my body’s valour, The Kine and the Lords return to their seats.

In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, duke of
> )

That he’s a traitor, foul and dangerou
To God of heaven, king Richard, |
And, as I truly fight, defend me heay
Mar. On pain of death
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the |
Except the marshal, and such off:
Appointed to direct these fair «

Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my

d, Lancaster, and Derby,

al a God di {i nd the right !

to me; | Bolme, | iets2 gc.) Strong as a tower in hope, I
'

so bold | Jar. Go bear this lance [To an officer.] to

a
Thomas duke of Norfolk,
larry of Liereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
tends here for God, his sovereign, and himself,

. ° } - e 4
ms pam to found false and recreant,

hand, e duke of N lk, Thomas Mowbray,
And bow my knee before his majesty: A - to his God, his king, and him,
For Mowbray, and myself, are |i men ind dares him to set forward to the fight,
That vow a long and weary pilgrin 2 #1 tlere standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke
Then let us take a ceremonious leave, of IN K,
And loving farewell, of our several frien ind and recre ant,
Mar. The appellant in all d h-} Bot » Gefend himsell, and to approve
ness, ite fH ford, Lancaster, and Derby,
And craves to kiss your hand, and take lv's-leave. fo God, his sovet n, and to him, disloyal ;
K. Rich. We will descend, and | 1 in our| © ly, and i [ree desire,
arms. \ ut the signal to beg
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, JUar. Sound, trumpets; and sct forward, com-
So be thy fortune in this royal fieht! batants. [4 charge sounded,
Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, ’ Ky thrown his warder® down.
Lament we may, but not revene thee dead. A. Wich, Let them lay by their helmets and their
Boling. O, let no noble es tear pears,
For me, if I be gor’d with Mowb \ back to their chairs again :——
As confident, as is the faleon’s fl V\ Wwilo :—and let the trumpets sound,
Against a bird, do I with Mo \ — yiuile we return these dukes what we decree.—
My loving lord, [To Lord Marshal.| 1 t m [.4 long flourish.
‘ leave of you:— 1) nea [To the combatants.
Of you, my vn »b] COU , | rd \rim rle —— And list, wl | Wi h our counetrl we have done.
Not sick, although I have to do with death; rth r kinedom’s earth should not be soil’d
But lusty, youns, and cheerly drawing breath,——) +¥ ith that dear blood which it hath fostered ;°
Lo, as at English feasts, so I recreet \ rr our eyes do hate the dire aspéct
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: vil wounds plough’d up with neighbours?
O thou, the earthly author of my blood, sword
a (x | \ | ’ hu kk t] Cul ie- Vin red pride
Whose youthful spirit, in me rerenerate, KV- biti theughts,
Doth with a two-fold vicour lift m ry Vai enyy t you on
To reach at victory above my head.— ke our peace, wuich in our ce untry’s cradle
Add proof unto my armour with thy et infant breath of gentle sleep ;
And with thy blessings steel my | point, Wien rous’d up with boisterous untun’d drums,
That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen! cout, yy iih harsh resound) trumpets’ dreadful bray,
And furbish? new the name of Jchn of Gaunt, \} rating ck of wrathful iron arms, =
Even in the lusty haviour of his son. 1 our quiet confines fright fair peace,
Gaunt. Heaven in thy ¢ 1 cause make thee! A make us wade even In our kindred’s blood :—
rrosperous ' : 1you Oo rritorics;:——.
Be swift, like lightning, in th cution : You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death,
And Jet thy blows, doubly redonbled Pill t : five summers have enrich’d our fields,
Fall, like amazing thunder, on the « : Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

Of thy advérse pernicious enemy

Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant,
Boling. Mine innocency, and Sain

1 - ? 7 s
thrive! | He ta

Nor. [ Rising.] However heaven, or f

my lot,

There lives or dies, true to kine Richar

‘

A loyal, just, and upricht centleman:
Never did captive with a freer heart

Bl read {! i GNSCT I ths of | nishment,
ind live. Boling. Y¥« will be Gone: This mustmy com-

{ ) G to I | i —_——
es his seat.| That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me:
tune. east! And tho his colden benms. to vou here le °
rtune, cast} An 1 nis ¢ len | ns, Lo you_here lent,
ic } ; } |
Shall nt on me, and mild my banishment.
rd’s throne, | K. Iich. Norfolk, for tl remains a heavier
; )
| ao n,

'VVhich t with some unwillingness pronounce ;
| The fly-slow hours shall not determinate

(1) Yielding. (2) Brighten up. (3) Helmet, |

(4) Play a part in a mask.

(5) Truncheon.

(G6) Nursed,KRING RICHARD fi. 365

The dateless limit of thy dear exile ;— | Gaunt, I thank my liege, that, in regard of me,

The honeless word of—never to retur
upon pain of lite
hia ‘avy Sentence, MY mo :

And all unlook’d for from your hig
A dearer merit, not
As to be cast forth‘in tl
Have l cli SeCTyt d i

My native hone lish, now |

That knows no t
Within my mouth y
Doubly portcullis’d,' with

After our sentence,

Lay on our roy
Swear by the du i
(Qur part therein we |!

I see thy grieved he

Pluck’d four av

Return [To Bolir

Boling. iow long a {ime li

Four lagging winters, and r W
‘eath o

(2) To move compas ion.
(4) Considerauon,

n, He shortens four years of my son’s exile:
But little vantage shall I reap thereby ;
, For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend,
ss’ mouth: |Can change their moons, and brink their times
about,
Ir, My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light,
ind. Shall be extinct with age, and endless night;
years, ‘iy inch of taper will be burnt and done,
1d death not let me see my son.
» more, K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.

;

Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst

» Ty

Oovyereig)

i ‘Gop ETRE?
ds \ blind

orien my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
ony. And pluck niehts from me, but not lend a morrow:
my { ut Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
| lips ; But stop no-wrinkle in his pilgrimage ;

i

word is current with him for my death;
it, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath,
I. Rich. Thy son is banish’d upon good advice,*
Whereto thy tongue a party® verdict gave ;
hiess death, | VV} it Ow tice seem’st thou then to lower ?

hing nativ Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion
ionate :2| You urg’d me as a judge; but I had rather,
» late. You would have bid me argue like a father :—
country’s| QO, iit been a stranger, not my child,
fault I should have been more mild:
\ partial sland sought I to avoid,
Retirine.;| And in the sentence my own life de stroy’d.
ith wi Alas, I look’d, when some of you should say,
tw too strict, | » make mine own away:
’d hands: But you eave leave to my unwilling tongue,
lve Lcrainst mj) will, to do myself this wrong,

lves, ) K. Rich. Cousin, farewell:—and, uncie, bid

| heaven !) six years we banish him, and he shall go.
nt: (Flourish. Eaeunt K. Rich. and train,
lum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must
-bred hate: | rom where you do remain, let paper show.
lar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride,
i

As far as land will Jet me, by your side.
‘ fend. G » ©. to what purpose dost thou hoard thy
Phat n’st no ereeting to thy friends ?
sles h I have too few to take my leave of you,
When the t 1’s office should be prodigal

T'o | the th bu it dolour’ of the heart.
e PT ief is but thy absence for a time.
rief is present for that time.

| l 7) y¥av i
ly Gait. What is six winters? they are quickly
Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one
hour ten.
Call it a travel that thou tak’st for
?
I do + Roline. My heart will sich, when I miscall it so,
a ends it an enforced pilgrimage.
i !- The sullen passage of thy weary steps
ry ‘oil. wherein thou art to set
nret S vel of thy home-return.
af thing Poline. Nay. rather, every tedious stride I make
Vill but remember me, what a deal of world

‘d years ter from the jewels that I love.
nf MTust [ not rye . long apprenticehood
lo: Po foreign passages; and in the end,
? freedom, boast of nothing else,
if N . journeyman to grief?
yn sprin Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits,
{ kings. {re to a wise man ports and happy havens :

hit

(5) Had a part or share, |
(6) Reproach of partiality, (7) Grief,oe Sea oa

pone

nal

he

ee a

 

Saeeiranoesteneenbaieemenesr =

ae
= hao

coclotcirtege tein: Seteeo

Sa aoe en ep

306 KING RICHARD fi, Act TT,

Teach thy necéssity to reason thus : | Wooing poor éF altsitié A, ¥ Ath the craft of stniles;
yee ds ; |
There is no virtue like necessity, |And pi atient underbe aring of his fortune,
Think not, the king did banish thee ; | As ’twere, to banish their affects with him.
4 |

But thou the king: Wo doth the heavier sit

Off goes his bonnet to an oyster=wench ;
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.

A brace of draymen bid—God speed him well,

L
)

Go, say—I sent thee forth to purchase honour, | And had the tribute of his supple knee,

And not—the king exil’d thee: or suppose, With——Thanks, my countrymen, my loving

Devouring pestilence hangs in our air friends ;—

And thou art flying to a fresher clime. | As were our England in reversion his,

Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it And he our subjects’ next degree in hope.

To lie that way thou go’st, not whence thou ¢ om’st; | Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these

Suppose the singing birds, musicians ; thoughts.

The grass whereon thou tread’st, the presence'| Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ;—
strew’d ; ieee dient® manage must be made, my liege ;

The flowers, fair ladies ; and thy steps, no more | Ere further leisure yield them further me ans,

‘Than a delightful measure, or a dance: lor their advantage, and your highness’ loss.

For gnarling? sorrow hath ‘less power to bite K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war.

The man that mocks at it, and sets it lieht. And, fon * our coflers—with too great a court,

Boling. who can hold a big his hand, \nd liberal largess,—are grown some what light,

By Anichce on the frosty Caucasus ? \We are enfore’d to farm our royal realm ;

Or cloy the hungry edze of appe lite, The revenue whereof shall furnish us

By bare imagination of a feast ? or our affairs in hand: If that come short,

Or wallow naked in December snow, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters ;

By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat ? Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,

QO, no! the apprehension of the good, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold,

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : And send them after to supply our w ae

Fell sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more, lor we will make for Ireland presentls
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.

’ 3 ’ : ty / ° ) ] m
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, Pll brine thee on Enter Bushy,
thy w ay Bushy, what news?
Had J thy youth, | and cause, I would not stay. Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my
Boling. Then, | England’s ground, farewell ; sweet lord ;
soil, adicg Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste,
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet ! To « a il vour majesty to visit him.
Where’er I wande r, boast ‘of this I can,—— K. Rich. Where lies he !
Though banish’d, yet a true-born Enelishman. Bushy. At Elv-house
[Lxeunt.| K, Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician’s
a . mr) ) . . ; min I,
SCENE IV.—The same. A room in the kines rp a. ok as
; a ae lo help him to his grave immediately !
castle, Enter King Richard, Bagot, and Green : Mice fi P tle anil ' as
. ° : Ihe ning o WSs colers sia make coats
Aumerle following. - aa ane Coats
lo deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.—
K. Rich. We did observe.—Cousin Aumerle, Come, gentleme tetas IL go visit him :

How far broug nt} you high Hereford on his way? |Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late!

Aum. I brought hie woe at if you call him so, [ Eereunt.
But to the next highway, and there I left him.
K. Rich. And, say, what phinip of parting tears ~~ re
were she d? “71. TT
Aum, ’Faith, none by me: except the north- ACT II.
east wind, : . SCENE I.—London. 4 room in Ely-house
Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Gaunt on a couch: the Duke of York. a , the cy
Awak’d the sleeping rheum ; and so by chance, afaidiiea: Mehta a ae
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. oe eee oe
K, Rich, What said our cousin, when yo u partes Gaunt. Will the king come? that J may breathe
with him ? my last, :
Aum. Farewell: In wholesome counsel to his unstaied youth.
And, for my heart disdained that my tongue York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft breath ; .
To counterfeit oppre ssion of such grief. lor all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
That words scem’d buried in my sorrow’s grave, Gaunt, Q, but they say, the tongues of dying men

Marry, would the word farews i have lengthen’d| Enforce attention, like deep harmony:
hours, Where words are searce. the

el Ql Carce. |i 1c are seldom spent in
And added years to his short banishment, vain:
He should have had a volume of farewells ; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in
But, since it would not, he had none of me. pain.

K, Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but ’tis doubt,| He, that no more must say, is listen’d more
When time shall call him home from banishme nt, | Than they whom youth and ease have taught to
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends

At

elose:5
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, | More are men’s ends mark’d, than their lives before :

Observ’d his courts ship to the common pe ople:— | The setting sun, and music at the close,

How he did seem to dive into their heart i As the last taste of : sweets, is sweetest last -

With humble and familiar courtesy ; | Writ in remembrance, more than thing long past:
What reverence he did throw away on Slaves ; | Though Richard my “Tite s counsel would not hear,

(1) Presence-chamber at court. (2) Growling. | (8) Expeditious, (4) Because, (5) Flatter*?

af his e%
1 other }

r

My death's and tale may vi b tine

York. No: it

sounds,

As, praises of his state: then, there are found
Lascivious metres: to whose yenom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen:
Report of fashions in proud Italy ;
Whose manners still our tardy apish nation

le i!
y +} !
is sto pp’d witl

Limps after, in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity
(So it be new, there’s nor

,

: espect how vile 7
Phat is not quickly buzz’d into his ears ?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard

;
Where wil! doth mutiny with wit’s recard
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose -
*Tis breath thou lack’st, and that breath wilt th
lose,
Gaunt, Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir’d ;
And thus, expiring, do foretel of him:

His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last :
For violent fires soon | urn out themselv:
Small showers last long, but sudden storms ares)
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes -
With eager fee ding, food doth ch ke the teed
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant

Consuming means, soon prevs upon itself.

This royal throne ot kin s, this scepter’d Isic .

This earth of maj sty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise :

This fortress, built by nature { r herself,

Against infection, and the hand of w

This happy Neded of men, this little world

This precious stone set in the silver s¢

Which serves it in th othce of a wail,

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands:

This blessed plot, this carth, this realm, this
England,

This nurse, this teeming womb of roval kine

Fear’d by their breed, and fainous by their birth,

Renowned for their deeds as far from hom

(For Christian service, and true chivalry. )

As 3s the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,

Of the world’s rans ym, bl 1 Mary’s n

This ind of such dear souls, this dear dear land
Dear for her reputation through the world,

Is now leased out (I die pronouncing |
].ike to a tenement or |
England, bound in with the triumphant s« Ly
Whose rocky shore beats back the envi °
Of watery Neptune, is now bound tn with sham
With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds ;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a sham: ul conquest of itself:

O, would the scand “ vanish with my life,

How bappy then were my ensuing death!

Enter King Richard, and Queen; Aume Bus!
Green, Bagot, Ross, and W iloughty.
York. The king is come: deal mildly with hi
youth ;

For young hot colts, being read, dao rave the more.
Queen. How fares our noble unele, L: ASLCT !

K. Rich. What comfort, man ? How is't wil

aged Ga'int ?

Gaunt. O, how tnat name befits my composition!

Old Gaunt, indeed ; and gaunt? in being old:
Within me grief hath kept a ty dious fast ;

And who abstains from meat, that is not gaun! |
For sleeping England joni th me have I watch’d:

te
|

Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt:

The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon,

(1) Paltry. (2) Lean, thin. (3) Mad.

 

Beane J, KING RICHARD ft, 367

alte rins

Is my stric Lt ast, i meani—~My childret Ws looks ;
And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt !
fraunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
"3 hose ae wo mb inherits nought but bones,
. Rich, Can sick men play so nicely with their
names ?

Gaunt, No, misery makes sport to mock itself:
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
[ mock my name great king, to flatter thee.

K, mich, Should dying men flatter with those
that live ?
Gaunt. No. no; men living flatter those that die.

Rich. Thou, now a dying, say’st—thou flat-
terest me.

Gaunt, Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be.
A. Rich. lam in health, J breathe, and see thee il?
Gaul. Now, He that made me, knows I see
4) sti
Hee

Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill,
Phy death-bed is uo lesser than the land,
su liest in reputation sick:

And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Commit’st thy anointed body to the eure

Ot those physici ns that first wounded thee:

\ thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
\Vhose compass is no bigger than thy head ;
And yet, incaged in so small a verge,

he waste is no whit | r than thy land.

) 1 ndsire, with a prophct’s eye,

y iow his son’s son should destrov his sons,
rom forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame ;
Deposing thee before thou wert possess’d,

W hi rt ss’d? now to depose thyself.

\\ hy, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease:
But, for thy world, enjoying but this land,

Is 1t not more tl than Shanta, Gh ane itso?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king :

hy state of law is bondslave to the law .
And thou——
K. Ricl —— a lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague’s privitege,
\) t with thy 1 en admonition
Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood,
With fury, from his native residence.
Now by my seat’s right royal majesty,

Wert thou not brother to great Edw ard? s son,

[his tongue that runs so roundly in thy he ad,”
Should ran thy head from ihy unreverend shoulders,

Gaunt, O,spareme not, my brother Edward’s son,
For that I was his father r Edward’s son ;

That blood already, like the pelican,

Hast thou hs ‘d out, and drunkenly carous’d :
My brother Gloster, plain we \l-meaning soul,
Whom fair befall in heaven ’mongst happy souls! ')
Nay be a precedent ‘and witness good,

That thou respect’st not spilling Edward’s blood :
> Join with the present sickness that I have ;
And thy unieitidint ss be like crooked age,

To crop at once a too-lone wither’d flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee '_.
These words hercafter thy tormentors be!—
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live, that love and honour have.
| Lait, borne out by his attendants.
Rich. And let them die, that age and sullens
have :
EF i both hast thou, and both become the grave.
’Beseec h your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
4s Harry, dake of Here ford, were he here.
K. Rich. Right; you say true: as Hereford’s
love, so his:a Se tea

    
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
    
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
    
  
 
 
   
 
   
     
  
  
   
  
    

, Sia Pt

 

2 gS EST ye a aE

J68

KING RICHARD II.

As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

Enter Northumberla

North. My liege, old Gaunt commend

your majesty.
K. Rich. What says he now?

His tongue is now a stringfess i inst
Words, life, and all, old ra

York. Be York the next that mus

——
~
0

nd.

rument ;
‘has spent.
be bankruptso!

Though death be poor, it ends a mortal wo.
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:

So much for that.——Now for our
We must supplant those rough ru

Which live ie venom, where no Ver

 

Jrish wars:

oh ad a kerns a8

nom Cis,

But only they, Ae Soo. ash
And for these ere ars airs do ask some charge,
"Towards our assistance we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle ¢ “saat did stand ] ss’d.
York. How long shall I be patient ? Ah, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong ?
Not Gloster’s death, nor Hereford’s | hment, |
Not Gaunt’ s rebukes, nor England’ private wron
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbrok«
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
Have ever made me sour my patient
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovercign’s face.—
T am the last of noble Edward’s sons,
Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first
In war, was never lion rag’d more fe
In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was thfat young and prince nlileman:
His face thou hast, for even so lool’d h
Accomp] ish’d with the num nt Nor 4
But, when he frown’d, it 5 ; h.
And not against his friends: his n
Did win what he did { spen {
Which his t eure: it fath
His hands were guilty of no kind lood,
But bloody with the enemies of
), Richard ! York 1s too far gone with
Ne else he never would compare bet
Rich. ' Why, uncl ‘ what's matter ?
Vick. : UO. m |
Pardon me, if you please; ifn
Not to be pardon’d, am cont
Seek you to seize, and cripe into
The royalties and rights of banish’d Hi
Is not Gannt dead? and doth not rd | .
Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true ?
Did not the one di serve to h L\ aun hy il /
Is not his heir a weil-di servil Y SO ;
Take Hereford’s richts away, and take from
His charters, and his customary rich
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-d
Be not thyself, for how art thou a |
But by fair sequence an i success}
Now, afore God (God forbid, I 1)
If vou do wronefully seize Llerefor iohts.
Call in the letters patents that he h
By his attornies-veneral to sue
}lis livery,* and deny his off rd hoi ‘
You pli ick a thousand dangers ony read,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hea
And prick ay sand r patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allevianece cannot thin
K. Rich. Think what you 3% il ; We ( »* mMmto

our hands

(1) Irish soldiers.
P (2) Alluding to the idea
tiles live in Ireland,

that no venomous rep-

Acl I.

(His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.

York. Pll not be by, the while:
farewell :

My lege,

s him to| What will ensue hereof, there’s none can tell ;
| But by bad courses may be unde
4 ‘hat their events can never fall out good, San
North. Nay, nothing; all is said: |

rstood,
K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire
straight ;

Bid him repair to us,
To see this busine ss: ‘f'o-morrow next

ill for Ireland; and ’tis time, I trew ;
in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York, lord governor of England,
For he is just, and always loved us well.—
f

to Ely-house,
And we create,

Vans on, our queen: to-morrow must we part ,
Be merry, for our time of stay 1s short, [ Flourish.
| Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aumerle,
wee en, and Bagot.

Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is
cl ad,
Ross. And living too: for now his son is duke.
Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue.
North. Richly in both, if justice had her right.
Ross. My heart is great; but it must break with

North.

be disburden’d with a liberal’ tongue.

Nerth. Nay, speak thy mind; and Ict him ne’er
| uk m
That speaks thy words as , to do thee harm!
WVillo. Tends t} thou’dst speak, to the duke
ol Le rei rd f
If it be so, out with it boldly, man;

1e i of good toward s him.
Ross. No good at all, that ] ean do for him;

you cull it good to pity him,
sereft and gelded® of his patrimony.
North. Now, afore heaven, ’tis shame, such
wron re vorne,
In him a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this fottmee land.
kine not himself, but basely led
ry fl ; and what they will inform,
i in hate, ’@ain tany of us all,
will the hing severely prosecute
( ist us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.

Ross. The commons hath he pill’d" with grievou

taxes,
And | their hearts: the nobles hath he fin’d,
( mI barre Is, and quite lost their hearts,
} (nd daily new exactions are devis’d ;
\ fs, volences, and I wot not what;
ar rGor name, doth become of this?
North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr’d he
But b y yielded upon compromise,
That which his ancestors a ‘hiev’d with blows:
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars,
ftoss. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in
t In.
MVidlo. The king’s grown bankrupt, like a broken
mari
North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over
him
Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notw thstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish’a duke.
North, His noble kinsman: most decenerate king!
B lord

put, lords, we hear this fe arful tempest sing,
ielfer to avoid the storm:
» wind sit sore upon our sails,

3) When of thy age.
1) T

(
{ aking possession, (5) Free,
(6) Deprived, (7) Pillaged,Scene II.

And vet we strike not
Ross. We he very w
And unavoided js the d

lv y

Iv Derisn
‘-_

L we must

but secure

reck tha

,
see t

anger now
For sulle ring so the causes nf aie cl
North, Not so; even through the hollow eves of
ceath,
] spy life peerine: but T dar n
How near the tidines of our con fort
We ilo. Nay, let us shar thy 1iOU Liou
aost o1
Ro 3B confident to sneak. Ny nc
We three are but thys If; and, spe
Thy words are but as thoue] hye
North. Then thus :—I have , from Port Ic,
a bay
In Brittany, received intellizenc »
That Harry Hereford, Reicnold Jord ¢ i
{The son of Richard earl of Arn |}
That late broke coe 1 the duke of Exet
bis brothe er. are ee te of Canterbury
Sir Thomas E. Siath 1am, sir John R mston,
Sir John Norberry , sir Robert Wa on, and Fran-
cis Quoint,——
All these well furnish’d b y the duke of Br '
With eight tall® ships. three thousand men of war,
Are making hither wit ill due ex
And ere mean to to much our northern
Perhaps, they had ere this: but that th
The first lie parting of the king for Ireland
If then we shall shake off our s! tVIsn ¥i
Imp* out our drooping country’s brok
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish’d «
Wipe off the dust th ut hides our sceptre’s eilt
And make high majesty look like itself.
Awi Ly, with me, In ee to Ravenspur
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
SLAY, and be secret, and | nyself will go.
Ross. I Po hors py 8 horse! u
Lh fear
W illo. Hold ‘out my horse, and I will first |
there, : | du.
SCENE OT wei Dd . A th v
Enter Queen, Bushy and B
Bushy. Mad our m m
You promis’d, whe n you part d with t
To lay aside life-harming heavi
And entertain a cheerful di

Queen. To please the king, I did; to please my-
self,

{ cannot doit; yet I know no«

Why I s hould welc yme such ry ta

Save bi idding farewell to 50 swer

As my sweet Rich Yet rr Irs,
Some unborn sorrow, fips in fo ne’s wom

Is coming towards me; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles: at som ine it Le ~

More than with parting from my lord the king.

Bushy. Each substance of a crief hath twen
' shadows,
*Vhich show like ecricf itself, but are not so:
For sorrow’s eye, gla oe with blinding t i,
Divides one thing enti »>to many objects ;
Like pérspectives,® which, rightly ?d upon,

Show nothing but c onfusion; ey’d aw:
Distinguish form: so your naj
Looking awry upon your lord’s de pa
Finds shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail ;
Which, look’d on as it is, is nought but
Of what itis not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,

FG
rture,

SVWet {

OWwWs

t sh: id

(1) Perish by confidence in our security.
tf Stout. (3) Expedition.

4 Supply with new feathers, (5) Gilding,

KING RIC

 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
     
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
    
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
    
    
    
  
    
   
 
 
  
    
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   

HARD Il. 369

More than your lord’s departure Weep not ; more’s
not SeEN ;

Or iti ‘it be, tis with false Sorrow’s eye,
W his things true, weeps things i imaginary.
Qn een. It may be $0; but yet my inward soul,
ides me, it is otherwise: Howe’ er it be,
[ cannot but be sad; so heavy sad,

h, in think ing, on no thought I think,—
1. heavy nothing faint and shrink,

i.) ‘ comin
iakKeS Mme WIT!

bushy. "Tis nothing but conceit,” my gracious
ts
Ak ive
"iis nothing less : conceit is still deriv’d
1 some fore ~fathe r grief; mine is not so;
Mors ne h ith | begot my something grief;
) i il uth the nothing that I grieve:
i In reyer soattinge Bate PpOSsess 3
ul what it is, that is not yet known; what
cannot name ; ’tis nameless wo, I wot.®
Enter Green,
Green. God save your majesty !—and well met,

eentle men :
, the king is not ot vet shipp’d for Ireland.
Queen, W i hop’st thou so? ’tis better hope,
He 18 3
igns erave haste, his haste good hope ;
‘hen wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp’
That he,
owe ro
nto de o Lir an enemy’s hope,
y hath set footing in this land;
soli ngbroke repeals himself,
{ted arms Is sale arriv’d

?

our hope, might have retired

Now God in heaven forbid!
madam, ’tis too true: and that fs
‘he lord Northumberland, his young son Henry
Che lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
heir powerful friends, are fled to him.
\Why haye you not proclaim’d Northum-

fae

Achi ddl

rest of the revolting faction,
n. We have: whereon the earl of Worcester
1 broke his staff, resign’d his stewardship,
!| the household servants fled with him
l‘o Bolingbroke,
. 50, Green, thou art the midwife to my wo,
.nd Bolingbroke my sorrow’s dismal heir :

‘ow hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ;
\nd I, a gasping new-deliver’d mother,
wo to wo, sorrow to sorrow join’d.
Bushy. Despair not, madam.
Queen Who shall hinder me ?
[ syall ¢ ir, and be at enmity

With cozenin

if hope; he is a flatterer,

\ ite, a keeper-back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.
Enter York,
Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen, With signs of war about his aged news 5

Q. full of eareful business are his looks !——

( ke, speak comfortable words.

“i. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts,
t’s in heaven ; and we are on the earth,

| Where nothing lives but crosses, eare; and grief.

9)

SA

» ' 7 ‘ I ns
neaven’s sa sp

if ‘ny yt
.,OMALO!I

Fanciful conception,

|
| (6) Pictures,
Drawn it back,

(8) Know.bh «

Sr eg

3

it

i

 

eae ate

370 KING RICHARD Ii. vict L.

‘Your husband he is gone to 82 ¥e far off,
Whilst others come to make h:n lose at home;
Here am I left to underprop hi land ; We three here part, that ne’er shall meet again.
\’ho, weak with age, cannot -upport myself:——| Bushy. That’s as York thrives to beat back Bo-

| Bagot. No; Vl to Ireland to his majesty,
ys ow comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ; | lingbroke.

}

|

Farewell: if heart’s presages be not vain,

*, ow shall he try his friends th: . flatter’d him. Green. Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes

Is—numb’ring sands, and drinking oceans dry ;

Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
Bushy. Farewell at once; for once, for all, and

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came.

a eee It. Se eee ae wed Wey, Green. Well we may meet again
it will !—— gs ; NY fon ee
‘The nobles they are fled, the commons cold, | Bagot. I fear me, never. [Exeunt.
ina ; ‘ar > jteref. Is cide
| will, I fear, revolt on Hereford’s side, ; : ‘
rah, ISCENE III.—The Wilds in Glostershire. Enter
i c ,

et thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ; Bolingbroke and Northumberland, with Forces.
y 36 Aca - = . |
Sp! iio a thousand pound : | Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now ?
serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship:| | Vorth. Believe me, noble lord,
‘To-day, as I came by, I called there ; iT am a stranger here in Glostershire.
ut I shall grieve you to report the rest. 'These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
York. What is it, knave ? |Draw out our miles, and mike them wearisome :
Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died, | And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
York. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes |Making the hard way sweet and délectable.
Coines rushing on this woful land at once ! ‘But, I bethink me, what a WEMEY WHY? of
I know not what to do:—I would to God, ib rom Ravenspurg to Cotsw old, will be found
(So my untruth! kad not provok’d him to it,) |In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ;
The king had cut off my head with my brother’s.—| W hich, I protest, hath very much beguil’d
What, are there posts despatch’d for Ireland ?7?— Phe tediousness and process of my travel :
How shall we do for money for these wars ?— | But theirs is sweeten’d with the hope to have
Come, sister,—cousin, I would say: pray, pardon| The present benefit which I possess :
me.— And hope to joy, is little less in joy,
Go, fellow [ To the Servant.] get thee home, provide| Than hope enjoy’d: by this the weary lords
some carts, | Shall make their way seem short; as mine hath done
And bring away the armour that is there. — By sight of what I have, your noble company.
{Exit Servant. |. _ Boling. Of much Jess value is my company,
Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? if I know | han your good words. But who comes here?
How, or which way, to order these affairs, Eimiéy Harty Peres
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, a ae ae
Never believe me.. Both are my kinsmen ;—
The one’s my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend ; the other again,
Is my kinsman, whom the ! ing hath wrong’d ; | Percy. I had thought; my lord, to have learn’d
Whom conscience and my <indred bids to right. | his health of you.
Well, somewhat we must ¢ ).—Come, cousin, [’}] | North. Why, is he not with the queen ?
|
'

North, It is my son, young Harry Perey,
|Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.—
Harry, how fares your uncle ?

Dispose of you:—Go, mu: >r up your men,
And meet me presently at
I should to Plashy too ;—-

Percy. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the
court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispers’d

serkley-castle.

But time will not permit :~ All is uneven, |The household of the king.
And every thing is left at s « and seven, | North. What was his reason ?
* “eunt York and Queen.|He was not so resoly’d, when last we spake to-
Bushy. The wind sits air for news to go to| gether.
Ireland, Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed
But none returns. For us ‘0 levy power, traitor.
Proportionable to the enen ,, But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
{s all impossible, ITo offer service to the duke of J lereford :

Green. Besides, our near xess to the king in love,}And sent me o’er by Berkley, to discover
Is near the hate of those lov : not the king. | What power the duke of York had levied there :
Bagot. And that’s the wavering commons: for|Then with direction to repair to Rayenspurg,
their love North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford
Lies in their purses ; and whoso empties them, boy? |
By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Percy. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot,
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con-| Which ne’er I did remember : to my know ledge,
demn’d. [ never in my life did look on him. ”
Bagot. if judgment lie in them, then so do we, North. Then learn to know him now; this is
Because we ever have been near the king. the duke.
Green. Well, Pll for refuce straight to Bristol] Percy. My gracious lord, I tend
castle ; 5 it is
The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither will I with you: for little office!
The hateful commons will perform for us :
Except like curs to tear us a!l to pieces. —
Will you go along with us ?

(1) Disloyalty,

er you my service,
Such as it is, being tender. raw, and young ;
Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm
To more approv’d service and desert.

Boling. 1 thank thee, gentle Perey: and be sure,
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul rememb’rine my good friends ;
And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
\It shall be still thy true love’s recompense :Scene 11, KING RICHARD If, 37 ‘ft
My heart this ¢ovetiant makes be git ee ee ace
j eat t nakes, My hand ne Nowareone toi ploy ah hp mine,

‘orth. as.” e palsy, chastise thee i
K North. How far is it to Berke y? And what stir and minister correction to thy fault ! es
Keeps good old es there, with hi S$ men of war? | ling |
> : ar? | Boling My gracious uncle, let me know my
ere y. | iere tands the Ci ist] iC, by yon tuft of) f: ault |

trp |
LitCcs

Mann’d v4 ith eS co hundr d me? as 1 hi ye hanre - Pm . : 7 E ondition epee | 4 aus eee
And in it ore the todh Malian v 2 i Sey. . as e a in Cone. of the worst degree,— ii
kal { rk, Berkiey, and § lth ross rebellion, and detested treason: oy
tie clin of rade Wa", eee hou art a banish’d man, and here art come,
avone cise of name, and noble estimate. |Before the e xpiration of thy time,
Ross and Wil In braving arms against thy sovereign.
North. Here come the fords of Ross and Wil. Boling. As Iwas banish’d, I was banish? d Here-
ioughby, rm ford;
icidie wititensd ted tiers nad dithihaehe, | But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
Boling. Welcome, my lords: I wy ot,’ your lov — ne . uncle, a ee Par th
suaanhen : ’ }.ook on my wrongs with an indifferent eye: |
A honigh’d traitors, alb nix. ream ‘ou are my father, for, methinks, in you
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which. more enric! a I see old Gaunt alive: O then, my father !
Shall be your love and labour’ reecrmence. |Will you permit that I shall stand condemn’d
Bia -¥ cunitthenondietiane cial teacadl nab a wand’ring vagabond : my rights and royalties
lord luck’d from my arms p e rforce, and given away
Willo. And far surm unts our labour to af ile © upstart unthrifts? Whe refore was I born?
tein it. {that my cousin king be king of FE ngland,
Boling, Evermore thats, the adh nk ths [t must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
. , i ~~| You have a son . Aume rle, my noble kinsman
Which, MT 2 felet Melaet miend ti venre | Had yor t first die d, and he been thus trod down,
Bisnis Tar tay bounie, “eee aa se ri sh uld have found his uncle Gaunt a father
; ‘0 rouse his wrongs,* and chase them to the bay.
Enter Berkley. [ am denied to sue my livery® here,
North. It is my lord of B rklev. as I cuess. And yet my lett rs-pate ut give me leave :
Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you, |My father’s goods are all distrain ’d, and sold;
Boling. My lord, my answer is—to Fancast s {nd these, and all, are all amiss employ’d.
And I am come to seek that name in England: | What wor ild you have me do? Tam a subject,
And I} must find that title in your 1 nue, And challenge law: Attornies are denied me ;
Before I make reply to auchi you say. And the: efore personally I lay my claim
Berk. Mistake me n t my | rd; ‘lis not my 'o my inheritance of free descent.
meaning, ' "| Worth. The noble duke hath been too much
To raze one title of your honour out :— abus’d.
To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will.) Ross. It stands your gr: ice upon,® todo him right.
From the most clorious revent of this land. | Willo. Base men by his endow ments are made
The duke of York: to know, what pricks you 0 great.
on eg a bbb of the hae nt Hine! oe York. My lords of Enel ind, let me tell you this, —
And fright our native peace with self-born arms. A have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs,
5 i Se es \nd labour’d all I could to do him right:
Enter York, allended, Bi it in this kind to come, in bri aving arms,

Boling. 1 shall not need transport my words by| Be his own carver, and cut out his way,
you: |'To find out right with wrong, —it may not be;
Here comes his grace in person.—My noble uncle!| And you, that do abet him in this kind,
| Aneels.| Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.

York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy North. The ee h sworn, his coming is f
knee, : | But for his own: and, for the right of that,
Whose duty is deceivable and false. i We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ;
Boling. My gracious uncle !— | And let him ne’er a joy, that breaks that oath.
York. Tut, tut! | York. Well, we il, see the issue of these arms ;
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: | cannot mend it, I a needs confess,
1 am no traitor’s uncle; and that word—erace, [ Bec: iuse my power is weak, and all ill left:
In an uner: cious mouth, is but profane: | But, ’ I could, by him that gave me life,
Why have those banish’d and forbidden leg [ wou "ke 1 attach you all, and make you stoop

) nto the sovereien a rcy of the king ; .

UU
Buty since I cannot, be it known to you,

I do remain as ne uter. So, fare you well ;—
('nless you please to enter in the castle,

Dar’d once to touch a dust of England’s cancel

But then more why ;—Why have they dar’d to
march

So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ;

Frighting her pale-fac’d villages with war, And the re repose you for this night.

And ostentation of despised arms? | Joling. An adler, uncle, that we will accept.

Com’st thou because the anointed king is hence? | But we must win your orac e, to go with us
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, | To Bristol castle ; whic h, they say, is held

And in my loyal bosom lies his power. |By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,

Were I but now the lord of such hot youth, |The caterpillars of the commonwealth,

As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, \v hich 1 have sworn to weed, and pluck away.

Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, York. It may be, I will 0 with you:—but yet

From forth the ranks of many thousand French ; I’ll pause ;

ry’

(1) Know. (2) Time of the king’s absence. (5) Possession of my land, &e,
(3) Impartial. (4) The persons who wrong him. (6) It is your interest, ik=e

ae

re Sekar ae

7 Se Pine

 

RR 5s aie o> ain ae

a

eS Ps.

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  

 

O72 KING RICHARD II.

we

For Iam loath to break-our country’s laws,
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are
Things past redress, are now with me past care.
{ Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—A camp in Wales. Enter Salis-
bury, and a Captain.

Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days,
And hardly kept our countrymen together,
And yet we hear no tidings from the king ;
Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell.

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; |

The king reposeth all his confidence
In thee.

Capt. ’Tis thought, the king is dead ; we will not

stay.

The bay-trees in our country are all wither’d,
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ;
The pale-fac’d moon looks bloody on the earth,
And lean-look’d prophets whisper fearful change ;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,—
The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other, to enjoy by rage and war:
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.—
Farewell; our countrymen are gone and fled,

As well assur’d, Richard their king is dead. [ Evit. |
Sal. Ah, Richard! with the eyes of heavy mind,

I see thy glory, like a shooting star,

Fall to the base earth from the firmament!
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
Witnessing storms to come, wo, and unrest:
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ;

|
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [Evit.

——-——

ACT Il.

SCENE I.—Bolingbroke’s camp at Bristol. Enter

Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Perey, Wil-| 7 rere te
»|Feed not thy sovereign’s foe, my gentle earth,

loughby, Ross: officers behind with Bushy and
Green, prisoners.
Boling. Bring forth these men.—

3ushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls

 

‘After late tossing on the breaking seas 1

'To stand upon my kingd
;

  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
   

Aci Lil,

Condemns you to the death:—See them deliver’d
over
To execution and the hand of death.
Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death tome,
Than Bolingbroke to England.—Lords, farewell.
Green. My comfort is,;—that heaven will take
our souls,
And plague injustice with the pains of hell,
Boling. My ‘ord Northumberland, see them
despatch’d.
(xe. North. and others with prisoners.
Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house ;
‘or heaven’s sake, fairly let her be entreated :
Tell her, I send to her my kind commends ;°*
Take special care my greetings be deliver’d.
‘ork. A gentleman of mine I have despatch’d
With letters of your love to her at large.
Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle.—Come, lords,
away ;

To fight with Glendower and his complices ;

. | Exeunt.

SCENE II.—The coast of Wales. castle in
view. Flourish: drums and trumpets. Enter
King Richard, Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and
soldiers.

Awhile to work, and, after, holiday.

K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at
hand ? babes

Alum. Yea, my lord: How brooks your grace
the air,

)

K. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for
joy,

ym once again.——

Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs :

As a long parted mother with her child

Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting ;

So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,

And do thee favour with my royal hands,

(
I

Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav’nous sense?
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,

And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way ;

Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,

(Since presently your souls must part your bodies,)| Which with usurping steps do trample thee.

With too much urging your pernicious lives,
For ’twere no charity: yet, to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men,

I will unfold some causes of your death.

You have misled a prince, a royal king,

A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappied and disfigur’d clean. !

You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,
Made a divoree betwixt his queen and him ;
Broke the possession of a royal bed,

And stain’d the beauty of a fair queen’s cheeks

Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies:
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder,
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy sovereign’s enemies.—
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords ;
This earth shall have a fi eling, and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. |

Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that

made you king,

With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul) Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all.
: a | p}

wrongs.

Myself—a prince, by fortune of my birth ;

Near to the king in blood; and near in love,

Till you did make him misinterpret me,——
Have stoop’d my neck under your injuries,

And sigh’d my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment :

Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Dispark’d? my parks, and fell’d my forest woods ;
From my own windows torn my household coat,*
Raz’d out my impress,* leaving me no sign,—
Save men’s opinions, and my living blood,—

To show the world I am a gentleman,

This, and much more, much more than twice allthis,

(1) Completely, (2) Thrown down the hedges,

The means that heaven yields must be embrae’d,
And not neglected ; else, if heaven would,

And we will not, heaven’s offer we refuse ;

The proffer’d means of succour and redress,

Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss ;

Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,

Grows strong and great, in substance, and in
friends.
K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know’st thou
not,

That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
\Behind the globe, and lights the lower world,

i Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen,
\In murders and in outrage, bloody here ;

|

| (3) Ofarms, (4) Motto, (5) Commendations,Scene IT. KING RI

But when, from under this terrestrial ball,

He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,

And darts his light through every guilty hole,

Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,

The cloak of night being pluck’d from off their backs,

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? |

So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,—

Who all this while hath revell’d in the night,

Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes,—

Shall see us rising in our throne the east

His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day ;
But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea

Can wash the balm from an anointed king:
‘he breath of worldly men cannot d

The deputy elected by the Lord:

For every man that Bolingbroke hath press’d,

To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,

God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay

A glorious angel: then, if angels fight,

Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the

right.

’

nose
t ‘

Enter Salisbury.
Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power?!
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speak of nothing but despair
One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth:
O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!
To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
O’erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state;
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers’d, and fled.
lum. Comfort, my liege: why looks your grace
80 pale '
K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand
men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled ;
And. till so much blood thither come again,
Have I not reason to look pale and dead?
All souls that will be safe, fly from my side ;
For time hath set a blot upon my pride.

‘
lum. Comfort, my liege ; re member who you]

are.

K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am TJ not king?!
Awake, thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleep’st.
Is not the king’s name forty thousand names?
Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes
At thy great glory.— Look not to the ground,
Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high?
Hich be our thoughts: I know, my uncle York
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who

Comes here?

}

Enter Scroop.
Scroop. More health and happiness betide my
liege,

han can my care-tun’d tongue deliver him.

K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart pre-

par’d ;
rhe worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold.
Say. is my kingdom lost? why, ‘twas my care ;
4nd what loss is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ?
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so:
Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend ;
They break their faith to God, as well as us:
Cry, wo, destruction, ruin, loss, decay ;

(1) Foree.

1)

CHARD Il, 373

|The worst is—death, and death will haye his day,
Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm’d,
To bear the tidings of calamity.
| Like an unseasonable stormy day,
| Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
|As if the world were all dissolv’d to tears ;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
|With hard Det steel, and hearts harder than
| steel.
White-beards have arm’d their thin and hairless
scalps
| Against thy majesty ; boys, with women’s voices,
‘Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state ;
| Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
\gainst thy seat: both young and old rebel
| And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell’st a tale
so ill,
Where is the earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot?
|What is become of Bushy ? where is Green?
That they have let the dangerous enemy
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ?
If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.
{ warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
Scroop. Peace haye they made with him, in-
deed, my lord.

| K. Rich, O villains, vipers, damn’d without re-

demption !
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
Snakes, in my heart-blood warm/’d, that sting my
i heart!
Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!
Would they make peace? terrible hell make war
Upon their spotted souls for this offence!

Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate :—
\cain uncurse their souls; their peace is made

| With heads, and not with hands: those whom you

|

curse,
Have felt the worst of death’s destroying wound,

| And lie full low, grav’d in the hollow ground.

lum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wilt-

| shire, dead ?

| Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their

heads.

| um. Where is the duke, my father, with his

power ?

| K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man

speak :

'Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ;

| Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes

| Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

lT.et’s choose executors, and talk of wills:

‘And yet not so,—for what can we bequeath,

‘Save our deposed bodies to the ground?

‘Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke’s,

| And nothing can we call our own, but death ;

| And that small model of the barren earth,

| Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

For heaven’s sake, let us sit upon the ground,

And tell sad stories of the death of kings :—

| How some have been depos’d, some slain in war;

'Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos’d ;

|Some poison’d by their wives, some sleeping kill’d ;

All murder’d :—For within the hollow crown,

That rounds the mortal temples of aking, .

| Keeps death his courf: and there the antic sits,

|Scofling his state, and grinning at his pomp ;
\llowing him a breath, a little scene.

|To monarchize, be fear’d. and kill with looks ;gta

en a eT

ve Se eee :

= ~

PS THEN TITS

aed f

TSO T SOOT ET IE TO TT EES

  

tet die ens econ

  
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
   
    
 
  
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
     
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
    

374 KING RICHARD II. ict Hf,

Infusing him with self and vain conccit,— | North. Your grace mistakes me, only to be brief,’
As if this flesh, which walls about our F fe, |Left I his title out.

Were brass impregnable ; and, humour’d thus, York. ‘The time hath been,

Comes at the last, and with a little pin | Would you have been so brief with him, he would

Bores through his castle wall, and—farewell king! | Have been so brief with you, to shorten ‘you,
Cover your heads, and 1 mock not flesh and blood |For taking so the head,® your whole head’s le ngth.
With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you

Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty should
? > . .
For you have but mistook me all this while: | York. Take not, good cousin, further than you
I live with bread like you, fee] want, taste grief, | should,
Need friends :—Subjécted thus, Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o’er your head.
How can you say tome—I ama king? — Boling. 1 know it, uncle ; and oppose not

Car. My lord, wise men ne’er wail their present} Myself against their will.—But who comes here ?

OCS, .
” Enter Percy

But present) ‘prevent the ways to wail.

To fear the foc , since fear oppresseth strength, Well, H - what, will not this castle yield ?
Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, Percy. The castle royally is mann’d, my lord
And so your follies fight against yourself. Against thy entranc¢
Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: Boling. Royally !
And fight and die, is death destroying death ; Why, it containsno king? |
Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. Percy. z Yes, my good lord,
Aum. My father hath a power, inquire of him; [t doth contain a king ; king Richard hes
And learn to make a body of a limb. Within the limits of yon lime and stone:
K. Rich. Thou chid’st me well :—Proud Bo-|And with him are the lord Aume rle, lord Salisbury,
lingbroke, I come On . tephen Scroop; bi sides a cle rgyman
To change blows with thee for our day of doom. |Of holy reverence, who, I cannot Jearn.
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown ; ~ North, Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle.
An easy task it is, to win our own.—— Boling. Noble lord, | Zo North.
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? | to & rude ribs of that ancient castle ;
Spe ak swee tly, man, although thy looks be sour. Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle”
Scroop. Me n judge by the complexion of the sky Into his ruin’d ears, and thus deliver:
The state and inclination of the day: * | Harry Bolingbroke
So may you by my dull and heavy eye, On both his knees doth kiss king Richard’s hand;
My toncue hath hut a heavier ‘ ile to sav. And st nds all riance, and true faith of he art,
I play the torturer, by small and small To his most royal person: hither come
To lengthen out the wor t that must be snoken:— Even at his feet to lav my arms and power ;
Your uncle York hath join’d with Bolingbroke ; Provided that, my banishment repeal’d,
And all your northern castles yielded up, And lands restor’d again, be freely granted :
And all your southern gentlemen it 1 arms If not, Pll use the advantage of my power
Upon his party.' And lay the Sumimne r’s d al with showers of blood,
K Rith Thou hast said enouch.—— Rain’d from the wounds ofslaughte te Enelishmen:

}

Beshrew? thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth |} he when, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke

[To Aumerle. | !t is, such crimson tempest should bedrench

Of that swect way I was in to despair! ‘he fresh green lap of fair king Richard’s land,

What say you now? What comfort have we now My stooping duty tenderly shall show,

By heaven, Pll hate him everlastinely, Go, signify as much; while here we march

That bids me be of comfort any more, | pon the grassy carpet of this plain.—

Go, to Flint castle ; ther re I’]] pine away; [Northumberland advances to the castle,

A king, wo’s slave, shall kingly wo obey. with a trumpet

That power? I have, discharge ; and let them go Let’s march without the noise of threatening drum,
’ ; eal

That from the ¢ etip’s toftt, 1}

To ear* the land that hath some hope to grow, Lou battlements
For I have none :—Let no man speak again appoint its may be well perus’d,
To alter this, for counsel is but vain. if m) self should meet
lum, My liege, one word. With no less terror than the elements
K. Rich. He does me double wrong, |VUf fire and water, when their > thrrath ring shock
©" At meeting tears the cloudy oo heaven.

ichard ar

That wounds me with the flatterics of his tonrue
Discharge my followers, let them hence :—Away . le yie
From Richard’s night, to Bolingbroke’s fair day. | Phe rage be his, while on the earth I rain
" [Ex a . waters: on the earth, and not on him.
March on, and mark kine Richard how he looks
SCENE III.—Wales. Before Flint Castle. En- OD, Soha. aa

. : : on] smaad nih oti tui soles
ter, with drum and colours, Bolingbroke and A partie sounded, ¢ d answered by another trion-

forces ; York, Northumberland, and others. pet within. Flourish. Enter on the walls king
. : cr ‘ | Richard, the bishop of Carlisle, Aume Scroon,.
Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn RY Pes erle, Scroop,
a y ys 3 . ate | and Salisbury.
The Welshmen are dispers’d: and Salisbury
Is gone to meet the king, who latel) landed, | York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear
With some few Seasons upon this coast. iAsd th the Slushiew ai rontented sun a .
North. The news is very fair and good, my lord:|From out the flery portal of the east:

Richard, not far from hence, ha th hid his head. |'When he perceives the envious clou ds are bent
York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland,|To dim his glory, and to stain the track

To say—king Richard :—Alack the heavy day, }Of his bright passage to the occident.
When such a sacred king should hide his head! Yet looks he like a kine; behold, his eve
, » ad ’

(1) Part. (2) Ill betide, (3) Force, (4) Plow.! (5) Short, (6) Such liberty, (7) Parley.Scene 1. KING RICHARD II.

As bright as is the eagle’s, lightens forth
Controlling majesty : Alack, alack, for wo,

That any harm should ; i j
K. Rich. We an amaz’d; and thus long ilOn pane ee tate ree
i g he 1 yon proud man, should take it off again
_. we stood | . |With words of sooth!® O, that I were as great
To watch the fearful be nding of thy knee, \s is my grief, or lesser than my name!
| Z’o Northumberland. | Or that I could forget what I have been !

Be cause we thought ourself thy lawful king : Or not remember wha‘ I must be now !
And if we be, how dare thy joints foreet

Lc of mine,
stain so fair a show !

lo pay their awful duty to our presence ?

|
b } beat
If we be not, ; :

show us the | Since foes have scope {o beat both thee and me.

hand of God

hat hath dismiss’d us from our stewardship ; | um. Northumberla:.d comes back from Bolinge
For well we know. no n ind Oi blood and bone | broke.

Van gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, | K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. submit ?

And though you think, that all. as ) tust he be depos’d ?

|The king shall be cont uted: Must he lose

you have done, |The king shall do it.
Have torn their souls, by turning them from us,

And we are barren, and bereft of friends -—— ‘The name of king? o’C.od’s name, let it gO:

Yet know,—my master, God omnipotent, ‘Pll give my jewels, for « set of beads ;

Is must’ring in his clouds, on our behalf, | My gorgeous palace, fc» a hermitage ;
rmies of pestilence; and the y shall strike |My gay apparel, for an alms-man’s gown ;

Your children yet unborn, and unbecot. |My figur’d goblets, for « dish of wood ;

That lift vour vassal hands against my head, My sceptre, for a palm.c’s walking-staff;

And threat the glory of my precious crown. My subjects, for a pair « “ carved saints ;

lell Bolingbroke (for vond

ont :
That every stride h males

|And my large kingdom
|A little little grave, an

a
methinks

: , he is, )

ra little grave,
upon my land,

scure grave ;—

Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope Or Pil be buried in the <ing’s highway,

The purple testament of bleeding war: |Some way of common t 1de, where subjects’ feet
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, May hourly trample on heir sovereign’s head :
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother’s sons | for on my heart they tr ad, now whilst I live;
Shall ill become the flower of England’s face;!|And, buried once, why ot upon my head 7——
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace |Aumerle, thou weep’st , My tender-hearted cou -

sin !—

Her pastures’ grass with faithful English blood. | We'll make foul weathe- with despised tears ;
i Y ’

Mie? |And make a dearth in this revolting land.

honidan with civil and oncivil arme ‘Or shall we play the wantons with our woes
Should so with civil and unciyil an play oes,
$e rush’d upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin. | And make some pretty match with shedding tears ;
Harry B rbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand; |As thus :—To drop them still upon onerplace,
And by the honourable tomb he swears. Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
A Be Ta SE ren arin el tie ieee « | Within the earth; and, therein laid,—There lies
Chat stands upon thy ro grandsire’s bones ; | oe . / ee oT ,
Bedee Uc. te Phalh voir Hlonds |T'wo kinsmen, digg’d their graves with weepin
Ay i vy if O' MICS OF lt c | hVOUS, | , oS 5
. std ; mene fram one wi rrarmnnal Eyes §
Currents that spring from one most gracious! : pty mt
sis oe : {Would not this ill do well?—Well, well, I see
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt : |I talk but idly, and you mock at me.— :
re seis Fe alee 'Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, +:
A 7 ; worth ne} ) of im lf | , 7 ? : ‘ : : :
Pit ictati Bee al ne wall cans | What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty
lo ei ee Fe 'Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?
His coming hither h 1 no turiner scope, - . +
ees ere ie ae ate You make a leg,* and Bolingbroke says—ay.
nior nis neal Troyaitl , alia t | - } . * :
En ae tamedinte on his knees: | North. My lord, in the base® court he doth attend
ni mnie Semen) ni Ci { j > Ali — | -

i! party granted once,
I > will commend? to rust,
His barb d steeds to st ibles, and his heart
To faithful service of \ é
This swears he, as he Is
‘1 wate hin
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. he ae ee 35
cal ' aoe the Wing e base court ?
bie} orthumberland. say.—thus the king/42
K. Rich. Northumbe! » 8a) gi base,
Tis nol Rip io ALI eae ome 'T'o come at traitors’ call, and do them grace.
is noble cousin is right welcome hither ;

tall t} i P his fair demand ‘In the base court?) Come down? Down, court
And all the number of his tair a ids

down?

K, Rich. Down, down, I come; like glisterin
Phaeton,

pene aake’ | Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

of he fT { North. retires to Boling

—
noe
£
4
+
:

} lieh’d withont tradicti a | . down, king | .
Sha ate ahh aeageee pee OBC ‘For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks shoi
With allt aciou ulter Pee gl iy sing. [Exeunt from abor
Sr to his gentle hearing Kine r he . | Boling. What says his majesty ?
Ve do del , COUSIN, | Aste

North. Sorrow and grief of he:
Makes him speak fondly,® like a frantic man:
Yet he is come.

{7'o Aumerle.
m1 ile aunt t ne eg fair
T'o look so poorly, and to speak ) halts

t ; 1 avr sane
Ch- 1] wec it] hack Northumbd rlan ly and Sf nd
‘ A ’ cl ' :

Defiance to the traitor, and so die ! | Enter King Richard, and his attendants, beloi'

: i afte fioht witn T( ntle
um. No. good my lord; let s fight with g ,
‘dum. 3 +5 Boling, Stand a!’ apart,
VYOTUsS : : ; : .
. and friends their helpful| And show fair duty to his majesty.——

i} im , ‘ nd friends, Gila .
Till time ! 4 |My gracious lord,—
swords, ©

’

[Kneelins:

(1) Soil, . (2) Commit, (3) Softness.

375
K. Rich. O God! O God! that eer this tongue

Swell’st thou, proud heart? Pll give thee scope to

iyen forbid, our lord the}Our sighs, and they, shill lodge the summer corn,

To speak with you; may’t please you to come

Base court, where kings grow

ef

4

°

(4) Abow. — (5) Lower. ~ (6) Foolishly. *)

‘
&
6Sn tna ter

TIPE

 

376 KING RICHARD Ul.

K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely

knee,

To make the base earth proud with kissing it:

Me rather had, my heart might feel your love,

Chan my unpleas? 'd eye see your.courtesy.

Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know,

Thus high at least, | Touching his own head: ] al-
though your knee be low,

/

Boling. My gracious lord, } come but for mine}

own.

K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours,

and all.
Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,
As my true service shall deserve your love.
K. Rich. Well you deserve :—They well deserv
to have,
That know the strong’st and surest way to get.—
Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes;
Tears show their love, but want their remedies. —
Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I'll give, and willing too;
For do we must, what force will have us do,—
Set on towards London :—Cousin, is it so?
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
K. Rich. Then I must not say, no.

ry “7 .
[ Fle (rusit. i CUT

SCENE IV.—Langley. The Duke of York’
Garden. Enter the Queen, and two Ladies.

Queen, What sport shall we devise e in thi
garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care
1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at boy

 

Act Ill,

‘|Give some supportance to the bending twigs.—
Gu Oty and, like an executioner,
ut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,
| That lool too lofty in our commonwealth :
|All must be e n in our government.——
lY ou thus employ ‘d, I will go root away
i The ne some weeds, that without profit suck
| The soil’s fertility from wholesome flowers.
1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale,*
| Keep law, and form, and due PrOporhioh,
, as in a model, our firm estate ?
|Wh en our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
ull of weeds ; her fairest flowers chok’d up,
le r fruit-trees all unprun’d, her hedges ruin’d,
fer knots* disorder’d, and her wholesome herbs
rpillars ?

Is

arming with cat
Crt urd.

Hold thy peace :—
le that hath suffer’d this disorder’d spring,
lath now himself met with the fall of leaf:

[he weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did

ing | him to hold him up,
Are pluck’d up, root and all, by Boung hone
mean, the earl of W lishire, Bushy, Green,
1 Serv. What, are they dead ?
Gard. They are; and Bolingbroke
Hath seiz’d the wasteful king.—Oh! What pity

so trimm’d and dress’d his land,
\s we this garden! We, at time of year,

Jo wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees

ing ud with sap and blood,

Vith too much riches it confound itself:

iad he done so to creat and growing men,

beveceh FCs A. 2 They might have liv’d bear, : ;
Queen: Meech | me think| 7 y inigh a ‘ Y ‘ i ear, on neo ti me
. . ; , ineir | l OL GULY. sSuperuuous i
The world is full of rubs, and that my fortu We ] that } P . hs ‘ eieas ~—
. . 4 ,¥ yay ¥>» bil rearing b UL 5
Runs ’gainst the bias. ' ry...) , hitnsclf’ i 1 ti clos
7 . . ; i me So < i rne
1 Lady. M idam, we VW i] dance, \" % 1 m bo 4 OTTH thr oa
‘ . <s yn 1 waste of idle h 8 hat ; 4 ;
Queen. My legs can kee P ho'measure in delight, | °*; hat thi pee "a na Hive ah The
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: * Fe ee ee eee
dit vo WU 3
Therefore, no dancing, viele ome other ; rT) hha th al 1d ‘4
‘ irnd. IFZCDress ( ne iS already: al epos
1 Lady. "Mad: im, we'll tell ta oe ee e i by y; and depos ‘a,
Q 5 ha we is doubt,° he 1 ill be: oe ett ers came last night
ween. Of: 301 » OF OL JOS - friend of t) { duke of York’
it i CMa O Lhe ; ) 8,
: Lady. Of either, madam. t Tadhg re ig wha arte good duke of Yor
: 2 ah . I i ell black LIGINGS,
Quecn. Of neither, cirl:
4] , Queen. 0. IT am press’ v
For if of joy, being altogether wanting, rm + of inc : otha ; AG ot
. i ougcn Want ol. spea ci »} Acs ?
Tt doth reme mber me the more of sorrow ; 1 ms [e ing fi n hae hick | roe
i11KkenesS Oominge ‘oO *“conce
Or if of grief, being altogether had, Rat tn dedandie Won “y po t her conceaiment,
7 ces ») ares ne gvarae 1OW Gares
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: 7 h-rude t ong ue sound this unplea }
5 \ ieT UG ( ruc Sount 8 pleasing ;
For what I have, I need not to repeat ; ot oa Ki els ae ng news?
. : > ‘ Willi SCriIM Sil <
And what I want, it boots® not to complain. . A eT gee eee
d a second fall of cursed man 7
1 Lady. Madam, Vil s <n ‘oat thoir gat, ie Fe ares ~duk
eo that #] aot \\ thou say, king Richard is depos’d 7
Queen. ris well, iat thou hast cause ; | ,, 4 A me tae
But thou should’st please me better, would’st thou|,,:.. thou little better thing than earth,
C roa Pp anak ae *~ | Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how,
een. 1 Or» Ghat Rtena Ttaea
adil edad tate Ok wel ou by these ill tidings? speak, thou wrete h.
1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you , tre
4 "anal Gard. Pardon me, madam: little joy have I,
’ "* ; To this news: { i Ss: is trie
Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me'- o ust ; 7 l, wha I ay, is true,
aid i Kine Richard, he is in the mighty hold
FOC j . in } > : : * 4%
= : wT ry Vid ; their fortunes both are weigh’d:
And never borrow any tear of tnee. ‘ale is nothing but himself, _
ile 18s nothing but himself,
But stay, here come the gardeners : And few vanities that mal 7 hf lieht
~ — , | . ‘ ic ; Lil ul _ Llu i 2 li ¥ :
Let’s step into the shadow of these tr ee Bysstert pays ‘ n light ;
; jut in the balance of great Bolingbroke,
Enter a Gardener, and twoSers sesides him Hf, are all the English peers,
f with 3 ade ha Wain)
My wretchedness unto a row of pins, And with dts he weichs king Richard down.
‘ ' > + ¥ oy ¢ . : } ‘ oa? : °
They’ li talk of state for every one doth so | b you to ? ond On, and vou’ll find it so :
Against a change: Wo is forerun with wo 1 Seas ho mor tn in every one d th know.
[Queen and Ladies retire.| Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so licht of
Gard. Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, | Loot,
' . i] sth y ’ t}) nl ,cc rp re .
Which, like unruly children, make their sire | Do n no y embassage belong to me,
°  » : ‘. # y ¥ . ines that bey : ) . ;
Stoop with oppression « their prodigal weight: | knd am I last that knows it? O, thou think’st
- = e ‘ : > Pun file
(1) A weight fixed on one side of the bow], ¥ hich| (2) P onts. (S) Inclosure.
turns it from the straight line. |} (4) Figures planted ina box.. (5) No doubtScene I.

To serve me last, that I may longest keep

Thy sorrow in my breast.—Come, ladies, £0,

To meet at London London’s king in wo.—

What, was I born to this! that my sad look

Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ?—

Gardener, for telling me this news of wo,

I would, the plants thou graft’st, may never grow.
. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
Gard, Poor queen! so that thy state might be

no worse,

I would, my skill were subject to thy curse.—

Here did she drop a tear ; here, in this place,

I’ll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace ;

Rue, even for ruth,' here shortly shall be seen,

In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [Ezxe.

—>———
ACT IY.

SCENE I.—London. Westminster Hall. The
lords spiritual on the right side of the throne ; the

lords temporal on the left; the commons belov., |

Enter Bolingbroke, Aumerle, Surrey, Northum-
berland, Percy, Fitzwater, another lord, Bishop
of Carlisle, .4bbot of Westminster, and attendanis.
Officers behind, with Bagot.

Boling. Call forth Bagot :——

Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind ;
}

|

What thou dost know of noble Wloster’s death;
Who wrought it with the king, and who perform’d

The bloody office of his timeless* end.
Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle.
Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that

man.
Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring
tongue

Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver’d.

In that dead time when Uloster’s death was plotted,
I heard you say,—Js not muy arm of length,

That reacheth from the restful English court

As far as Calais, to my uncle’s head ?

Amongst much other talk, that very time,

I heard you say, that you had rather refuse

The offer of a hundred thousand crowns,

Than Bolingbroke’s return to England ;
Adding withal, how blest this land would be,
In this your cousin’s death.

. rae |
Aum. Princes, and noble lords, |

What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonour my fajr stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement i
Kither I must, or have mine honour soil’d
With the attainder of his sland’rous lips.——
There is my gage, the manual seal of dc ath,
That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
And will maintain, what thou hast said, 1s false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword, 3
Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shait not take 1 up.
Aum. Excepting one, [ would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath mov’d me so. |
Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spal’st it,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster’s death.
If thou deny’st it, twenty times thou liest ;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier’s point. |
Aum. Thou dar’st not, coward, live to see thai

day.

(1) Pity. (2) Untimely,

 

KING RICHARD Ir. 377

Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour,
‘tum. Fitzwater, thou art damn’d to hell for
this.
Percy. Aumerle, thou liest ; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust:
And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
l'o prove it on thee, to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing ; seize it, if thou dar’st.
lum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe!
Lord. { take the earth to the like, forsworn
Aumerle ;
nd spur thee on with full as many lies
As may be holla’d in thy treacherous ear
rom sun to sun: there is my honour’s pawn;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar’st.
lum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw
at all:
I have a thousand spirits in one breast,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.
| Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
| The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
| Fitz. My lord, ’tis true: you were im presence
. then ;
| And you can witness with me, this is true.
|
|

 

Surrey. As false, by heaven, as’ heaven itself is
true,
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.
Surrey. Dishonourable boy !
That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge,
Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie
In earth as quiet as thy father’s scull.
In proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn ;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar’st.
Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!
If { dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
i dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies, -
| And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
'T'o tie thee to my strong correction.—
As J intend to thrive in this new world,
\umerle is guilty of my true appeal:
| Besides, I heard the banish’d Norfolk say,
'That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
'T’o execute the noble duke at Calais.
Aum, Some honest Christian trust me with a
Cage
That Norfollc lies: here do I throw down this,
Ifhe may be repeal’d to try his honour.
| Boling. These differences shall all rest under
oAage,
I'Till Norfoll be repeal’d: repeated he shall be,
|And, thouch mine enemy, restor’d again
To all his land and signories; when he’s return’d,
i Acainst Aumerle we will enforce his trial.
| Car. That honourable day shall ne’er be seen.—
|Many a time hath banish’d Norfolk fought
Mor Jesu Christ ; in glorious Christian field
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross,
\cainst black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens:
And, toil’d with works of war, retir’d himself
'To Italy; and there, at Venice, gave
His body to that pleasant country’s earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ ;
| Under whose colours he had fought so long.
| Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead ?
| Car. As sure as I live; my lord.
| Boline. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to
“the bosom
‘|Of ood old Abraham !—Lords appellants.
|Your differences shall all rest under gage,
Till we assign you to your days of trial.

3 5

}
.
1
1Seniias at aasistie scam are a

io ieee

378 KING RI

’ Enter York altended

York. Great duke of Lancaster, ) I come to thee
From plume-pluck’d Richard ;
soul
Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yiclds
To the possession of thy royal hand :
Ascend his throne, Radcositing now from him,—
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth!

CHARD II.

Act IV.

The favours? of thesé men: Were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me?

\So Judas did to Christ : but he, in twelve

ho with willing) }ound truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand,

| none.
God save the king !—Will no man say, amen /
|Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen.

| God save the king! although I be not he ;
|And yet, amen, if he aven do think him me.—

Boling. In God’s aan Vl ascend the regal|'To do what se rvice am 1 sent for hither ?

throne.
Car. Marry, God forbid !—
Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the rath,
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard ; then true nobless! would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king ?
And who sits here, that is not R lob ird’s subject ?
Thieves are not judg’d, but they : ee to hear,
Although apparent t guilt be seen in ‘that
And shall the figure of God’s majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anginted, crown’d, planted many years,
Be judg’ d by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? Q, forbid it, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls retin’d
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr’ d up by heaven thus boldly for his king.
My lord of Hereford he re, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king:
And if vou crown him, let me prophesy,—
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul a¢
Peace shall go sleep with Turks :
And, in this seat of peace, tumu!tuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound ;
Disorder, horror, fear, and muti
Shall here in habit, and this land
The field o f Golgot ha, and dead men’s sculls,
O, if you rear this house
It will the wofullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth:
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child’s children, cry against you—wo!
+ North. Well have you argu’d, sir; and, for your
pains,
Of capital treason we arrest you here :—
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely till his day of trial.—
May’t please you, lords, t«
Boling. Fetch hither |
view
}le may surrender: so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.
York. I will be his conduct.? [Eait.
Boling. Lords, you that are here under our ar-
rest,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer :—
Little are we beholden to your love, |/o C
And little look’d for at your helping hands.
Re-enter York, with King Richard, and
bearing the crown, &c
Rich. Alack, why am I sen
Before I have shook off the rega ght
Wherewith I reign’d? I hardly yet have learn’d
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my k
Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember

)

nd infidels,

against this house

  

‘

grant the comm< suit.

)
rip rls that mo
tichar dg, (nat in common

nec ve

(1) Nobleness. (2) Conductor,
(3) Countenances, (4) Omue

 

| York. To do that office, of thine own good will,
|W hie “ tired majesty did m nake thee ofter,——
|The resignation of thy state and crown
|T'o He nry Bolingbroke.
| K. Rich. Give me the
SeC1Ze the crown;
|Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine.
| Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owes* two buckets filling one another ;
|The emptier ever dancing in the air,
The other down, unseen, and full of water:
| That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
| Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
Boling. i thou oht you had been wilting to resign.
K. Rich. My crown, I am; but still my griefs
are mine :
| You may my glories and my state depose,
| But not my gricfs; still am I king of tl ose.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with

crown :—Here, cousin,

your crown.
Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my
| care 5s down.
|My care is—loss of care, by old care done ;
|Your care is—gain ore care, by new care w on:
|The cares I give, I have, tl hous rh given away ;
| They | nd the crown, od still with me they stay.
2 ling. a you contented to resign the crown ?
Riel be no: no, ay :—for I must nothing be

Theaters.) no no, for I resign to thee.

Now mark me how Iwill undo myself:—
\I give this heavy weight from off my head,

{nd this unwieldly sceptre from my hand,
|The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
| With mine own tears I wash away my balm,§
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred stale,
With mine own breath release all ‘duteous oaths :
Il pomp and majesty I do fore ar;
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego

Vy acts, decrees, and statutes, ie de ny :

God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me

God keep all vows unbroke, are made to ih e!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev’d ;
And th yu with all pleas’d, t hat hast all achiev’d!

Long may’st thou live in Richard’s seat to sit,
|And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!

God save king Henry, unking’d Richard says,

And send him many years of sunshine days !—
mains ?
North. No more, but that you read

(Offering a paper.

‘cvbations, and these grievous crimes,
nitted by your person, and your followers,
st the state and profit of t his land ;
by confessing them, the souls of men
av de you are worthily depos’d,
K, Rich... Must I do so? and must I ravel out
ies? Gentle Northumberland,
\If thy offences were upon record,
iW ould i not shame thee in so fair a troop,

» read a lecture of them? If thou would’st,
vere should’st thou find one heinous article,—

What more r

| 7T s,s) .
IMy weav’d-up fo

her

| (5) Attend, (6) Oil of consecration.Scene I.

Containing the deposing of a king,

And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,—

KING RICHARD If,

  
  
  

379

The shadow of your face.

rack : ; | K. Rich. Say that again.
Mark’d with a blot, damn’d in the book of heaven :—

Nay, all of you, t

Though some of you, with Pil;

ay ’ lat stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait my self,—

Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates

Have here deliver’d me
And water cannot wash away
“Vorth. My lord, despatch:
cles,
K. Rich. Mine eves are |
And yet salt water blinds them not
Sut they can see a sort! of

not So muc!

Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest :
or I have given here my soul’s conser

if
“traitors here.

‘
i

to my sour cross,
your sin.

Ny

lo undeck the pompous body of a king .

Make glory base; and soverei mity, a

Proud majesty, a subject: stat

North. My lord.——

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou h tught,? ins

ing man,

Nor no man’s lord: I have no name, no title,

No, not that name was given me at {!

it. ine i

s]

e, a peasant.

But tis usurp’d:—Alack the heavy day

;
And know not now what name to call

seh iiit

That | have WOrn SO MANY Winters ont
QO, that I were a mockery king of snow
Standing before the sun of Bolinebro!}
To melt myself away in water-drops!
Good king,—great king—(and yet

rood, )

An if my word be sterling yet in Enelan
Let it command a mirror hither straioh .
That it may show me what a face I hav

Since it is | ankrupt of his majesty,
Boling. Go some of you, and fetch
glass. [Exit a
North. Read o’er this paper, while t!
come.

K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment’st me

to hell.

Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northur

land.
North. The commons will not then

K. Rich. They shall be satisfied:

enough,
When I do see the very bo: k, indec i
Where all my sins are writ, and t —m)
Re-enter alltendant, with a el
Give me that glass, and therein will I ri
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow

7

So many blows upon this face of mine
And made no deeper wounds ?—0, flat!
Like to my followers in prosperity,

Thou cost beguile me! Was this face t
That every day under his household ri
Did ke ep ten thousand men? Was this
That, like the sun, did make behold

:

Was this the face, that fac’d so many fo

1
}

lVt

7™*4

|The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let’s see:—
Tis very true, my grief lies all within ;
And these external manners of lament

ate, wash your hands,/ Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,

| That swells with silence in the tortur’d soul :
| here lies the substance: and I thank thee, king,
|For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st

read o’er these arti-| Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way

How to lament the cause. Pll beg one boon,
e:|And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall 1 obtain it ?
| Boling. Name it, fair cousin.
| dK. Rich. Fair cousin ? Why, I am greater than
| a king:
For, when I was a king, my flatterers
| Were then but subjects ; being nowa subject,
\1 have a king here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg,
Boling. Yet ask,

ult-| AK. Rich, And shall I have?

Boling. You shall.
| 4k. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
| Boling. Whither ?
| 4A. Rich, Whither you will, so I were from your
sights,
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the
lowe r.
K. Rich. O, good! Convey ?—Conveyers? are
you all,

eatly| That rise thus nimbly by a true king’s fall.

[Exeunt K. Rich. some lords, and a guard.
| Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set
: down
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.

[Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle,
a looking- and Aumerle.
attendant,| Ibbot. A woful pageant have we here beheld.

And was at last ouf-fac’d by Bolincbroke

A brittle glory shineth in this fac:
As brittle as the glory !s the face:

= y s 2 ; 7
[ Das! ; éciass against th

For there it is, crack’d in a hundred s
7

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,—

‘

Boling. The shadow of your so
stroy’d

(]

(

°
0

How soon my sorrow hath destroy’d m
?

) Pack. (2) Haughty.
) Jugglers, also robbers.

,

"ta

face.

:glassdoth} Car, The wo’s to come; the children yet uns

born

oC}

ome| Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn,

«dum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot

i\ber-| To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?

.. .6 Ss

10b0l. Before I freely speak my mind herein,
d.| You shall not only take the sacrament

ead| To bury* mine intents, but to effect

tever [ shall happen to devise:

your brows are full of discantent,

ur hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears ;
Come home with me to supper; | will lay

\ plot, shall show us alla merry day. [Eweunt,

j

| Pare
ACT V.

COrParp

ISCEME I.—London. 4 street leading to the
Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies,
|

Queen. This way the king will come; this is the
watt
To Julius Cxsar’s ill-erected tower, §
‘l’o whose flint bosom my condemned lord
Is doom’d a@ prisoner by proud Bolingbroke:
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
ve any resting for her true king’s queen.

Enter King Richard, and guards.

.

‘row hath de-| But soft, but see, or rather do not see,

| My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,

(4) Conceal, (5) Tower of London.SC ee as

ae

Area

GEOL. IT eT LOE TT

380 KING RICHARD Ii,

And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.——
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand ;
Thou map! of honour; thou king Richard’s ton ib,
And not king Richard ; thou most beauteous inn,
Why s should hard-fay our’d grief be lodg’d in thee,
When triumph is become an ale-house guest ?
K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do
not so,
To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul,
To think our former state a hapj yy dream ;
From which awak’d, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this: | am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity ; and he and I
Will keep a Jeague till deat h. Hie thee he ranc
And cloister thee in some religious hou
Our holy lives must win a new wo1 ie crown,
Which our profane hours here have stricken down.
Queen. What, is my Bichant both in shape and
mind

Transform’d and weakened? H oke
he

h Bo lingbroke

Depos’d thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart ‘

T he lion, dying, thrust i forth his paw,

And wounds the earth, i not hir ng else with rage

To be o’erpower’d ; an o. rt

Take thy correction mildly ? ! “Kd 3 the rod ;

And fawn on rage with base humility,

Which art a lion, and a king of beast
K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; ifaught but

beasts,
I had been still a happy king of m
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence f
France:

Think, Iam dead; and het even here thou talk’st,

As from my death-bed, 1

In winter’s tedious ni: hts 3, sit |

With good old folks ; and let them tell thee t

Of woful ages, long ago betid:*

And, ere thou bid good night, to quit® their grief,

Tell thou the lamentable iall of me,

And ‘send the hearers weeping to their bed

For why, the senseless brands will symp:

The heavy accent of thy moving tongue

?
And, in comp: issIon, weep the firc out:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,

For the deposing of a rightful kis
Enter Northumberland, attended.
North. My lord, aie mind of Bolingbroke is
chang’d;
You must to Pomfret, ot unto the Tower.——
And, madam, there is order ta’en for you
With all swift speed you must a1 ay to France.
K. Rich. Nort! 1umberland, thou ladder where-
withal

The mounting Bolins erORe ascends my throne,—

The time shall not be many hours of
More than it is, ¢ fou il sin, gathering hea
Shall break into corruption: hal
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,

It is too little, helping him to ail:

And he shall think. that thou, which know’st the wa
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

Being ne’er so little ure’d, anether way

To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne
The love of wicked friends converts to fear ;

That fear, to hate ;

and hate turns one, or both,

To worthy danger, and deserved death.
and there an end. |

North. My cuilt be on my he
Take leave, and part; for you must parl forthwith.
K. Rich. Doubly divore’d 7?—Bad men, ye viol

(1) Picture of greatness. (2) Passed.
(3) Be even with them.

(4) All-hallows, 7. e. All-saints, Noy. 1.

ct Vu

|A two- fold marriage ; *twixt my crown and me ;

|A pre | then, betwixt me and my married wife.—

ILet me unkiss the oath ’twixt. thee and me;

\An d yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.—

Part us, Nort 1umbe vant I towards the north,

Whe re shivering co Id and sickness pines the clime ;}

My wife OE rance; from whence, set forth in pomp,

She came adorned hither like sweet May,

Sent back like Hallowmas,* or short’st of day.
Queen. And must we be divided? must we part?
K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and

heart from heart.
Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me.
North. That were some love, but little policy.
Queen. Then whither he goc s, thither let me go.
So two, together we ping, make one wo.
for me in France, I for thee here 5
ff, than—near, be ne’er the near’,

is R ich.
VV ec p thot
Better far

(
| Go, count thy way with sighs ; I, mine iin or base
SS

Queen. So longest way shall have the longest
K. Rich. Twice for one-step Pll groan, the way
bel short,
And piece the way out with a. heavy heart.
Come, come, in wo ving sorrow let’s be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
One kiss sl an Sto our mouths, and dumbly part;

Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart.

[ They kiss.

Queen. Gi e mine own again; ’twere no good
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart

| Kiss again.
now Ihave mine own again, begone,
I may strive to kill it with a groan,

(. Rich. We make wo wanton with this fond

more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exe.

SCENE II.—The same. A voomin the Dukerof
York’s palace. Enter York, and his Duchess.
Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the

When weeping made you break the story off,

f our two cousins coming into London,
} ork. \\ nere did | le ive /

Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgovern’d hands, from windows’ tops,
Threw dust and rubbish on in r Richard’s head.

I Then, as I said, the duke, grea t Boling-

Bion
Ke,—

Mounted up n a hot and fiery steed,

v\ } DIT ! r seem’d to know.—

With slow, but stately nace, kept on his course,

vy i] tongues cried—God save thee, Boling-
brolk ’

; tld have thought the very windows spake,

So many creed) lool s of young and old

Tv 1 casements darted their desiring eyes

Lipon his visage: and that all the walls,

With painted imagery,® had said J once,—

}

I preserve thee ! welcome, sae broke!
Whilst he. from one side to t} ie of * turning,

> ' 2 ; :

Bar ~~ HePaAO a, wer. 02 | wrong fy pt oud steeds neck,

nal , | thank you, ¢ ountrymen :
And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard!
while
York. As, ina theatre, the eyes of men,

vhere rides he the
After a we io rac’d actor leaves the stage,

(5) Never the nigher.
(6\ ‘Tapestry hung from the windowsScene IIT. KING RICHARD Ii. Jel
Are idly bent! on him that enters next lum. G 10the it i
pre idly: is 0 hy n ta nters next, _ «dum. Good mother, be content; it is no more

; pratlie tO De Leaclous: ; 4 han my poor li fe must ans Wer.
Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes| Duch.

Thy life answer!
Did scowl on Ric hard; no man crie d, { rod save him: y

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: Re-enter servant, with boots.
Sut di | :
out dust was thrown upon his sacred head : rk
Which Vi ith such (r¢ ntle Sorroy he shook of! , a Bri ae. Te my boots, I W ill unto the king.
“mag edibcin ° “aghe BeltS SOI » NE SHOOK O!,— uch. Strik eee
His face still combating with tears and siniles _—— ike hi ~My Aume rle. Poot boy, thou
The bad ’ Kee erin’ ; art amaz’d :4
he badges of his grief and sattdiee — Hence, villain \ . she
eye ‘ ee i . ever ree > r a
Phat had not God, for some strone purpose, steel’d , Villain; never more come in my sight.

lhe hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, York: Givak sede? [ To the servant,
And barbarism itself have pitied hi ee oe ae = Oots, I say.
But heaven hath a hand in t ey Duch. Why, York, 1 vhat wilt thou do?
t CANS baat “ud nana ih wnese ents : cT}a 4 oan 4
To whose hig} Vere hmind ony c : \\ hou not hide the trespass of thine own ?
0 whose high will we bound our calm contents. |r... « = ger ie
To Boling! al fave we more sons? or are we like to have ?
Oo Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now ine® date drunk up with time ?
: A _ ite } j
Whose state and honour I for aye? allow. Bi hls tice! ee Oe ee ee
. ind will thou ten my fair son from mine age,

"

2

Enter Aumerle \ OD (= OL a ee eee 2 AGT
: fs he not lik thee :? Is he not thme o
Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. Vinssl , Prin ee
es . ‘gad ,ork. ihou fond mad woman,

York. Aumerle that was: ‘ lt th P atcg Pe at * ‘
: , , Soa “ters ’ \Vilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ?
But that is lost, for being Richard’s friend, os Oo Ohtded Vise td 28 :
And. 3 lal y u must 11] Rut] ; . dozen of them here have ta’en the sacrament,
d gag, madam, yOu MUSl Cali him NuULIaAnd now: l intero} : } :
; Sel lds | ana nal ; (nd interchangeably set down their hands,

arliament lve for his truth nN 1) +] Cas

am in parliament pledge : ’ Fo kill the king at Oxford.

And lasting fealty to the new-made kine. a enh He abnlk he wees

Duc \ c r son: Vi al the violets! x*.r.3 cis a : . :
Duch. Welcome, my son: Who a ne ACLS) We'll keep him here: Then what is that to him ?
now, 7 nae aw

r : . ° , i Away,
at strew tne gr » of the new-come spring ?\ yp
Phat stre -_ Q reen lay ol ne om ; Fond woman! were he : twenty times my son,
Aum. Madam, I know not, norI greatly care not:}; . Se ce Mit
God k a. | as lief be 1 ; 5 L Wi aq appeacn nlm.
‘ ‘-. dul as i i ine, as one. T } } >ye . .
"Y - W. i > oe ' ; Duch. Hadst thou groan’d for him,
i ) if VW i In this] W SDrin i } . ? 4} 77 ; eae ce
orm, YVei, Dear you We! : pris “41 As I have done, thou’dst be more pitiful.
few ’ 'd bef ah 2 But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect,
Lest you ye cropp' before you c me vO prime. ; T} fh Day been disloyal to thy bed,
What news from Oxford? hold those justs? and ars a gat
1a 4 ra MOM LuOSC | ana A ‘ he 1s a bast rd, not thy son:
eriumpns % i ‘lard tae Swe t } ork, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
“Tum. Fon — ls . — es He is.as like thee as a man may be,
York. You will be there, I know. Not like to me, or any of my kin,
Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. And vet I love ‘him.
York. What se al is that, that hangs without thy York. Make way, unruly woman. [Ezit.
' oe lo? } ra Duch. After, Aumerle; mount thee upon his
Yea, look’st thou pat et me see the writing. horse :
Aum. My lord, ’tis nothing. Spur, post; and get before him to the king,
York. i INO m iter then W 0 es it: And |} 1% pard yn ere he do accuse thee.
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. I’ll not be long behind; though I be old,
Jhon. I do beseech your grace to paracon me; { doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
It is a matter of small consequence, And never will I rise up from the ground,
13 ’ » + wid not } vp « oy > ; 1 : 9,1 1. <
Which for some reasons I would not have seen. rill Bolingbroke have pardon’d thee: Ay ‘ay 5

Fork. VW hich for some reas ns, sir, 1m iH LO SCC. | Rogone. [Exeunt.
I fear, I fear,——

Duch What should you fear? SCENE IU.—Windsor. .4 room in, the. castle.
Tis nothing but some bond thi t he 1s ¢ nter’d int Enter Bolingbroke as king; Perey, and other
For gay apparel, ’oainst the triumph cay. i !

F «]- Tel 1 hi 1? ow nai i yth | ri
ork. Bound to himself? what dothhewith: 3
wi t he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.— Boling. Can no man tell of my ae son?
hat he fe, thou art ¢
iti Tis full three 1 ;, since I did see’ him last:—
Boy, let me see the writing. is full three ment hs, since I did see

i
] rreion ? - | may ti} ny pla@ue nang over *tis he,
1 do bye seechn You, paraon ine ; i may ho i] hiiy }73 5
eae show it ; | would to God, my ‘lords, % might be found :
Yor!) I will be satisfied: let me see it, I say Inquire at London, ’mongst the taverns there,
rk @ SALIsiicd , | it, & : ;
OT ies v1 rs watches sb. an } reads or ther : they say. he daily « ith fr ‘equent,

slave! | With unrestrained loose conipanions;
| ~ | Even such, they say, as stand in ni irrow lanes,
» a sey-| And beat our watch, and rob our passengers 5
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,

Tre ason! foul tre ason '—vill
Duch. What is the mat
York. Ho! who is wit

 

sant Saddle my horse .
God fi rt V ‘s hat treachery is here ! Takes on the point of honour, to support
rod for his merey. wha ae a ee ]
t.. ; << } So dissolute 2 crew.
i it is it, my lord? : Gd At a
Pee rt ees c ao ts. T say: saddle my| Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the
ork. X e " } oots, Say; Sa Lit 1 .
SS semires | prince ;
| ae | onour, by my life, my trot h, nd told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Now by _— - at a Le, (Exit servant. tre And what said the gallant ?
I oe P peach the vi "what's the matter? | Percy. His answer was,—he would unto the
uch at :

is] stews ;

ork. Peace, foolish woman. | | . *

D I I will not peace :—Whatis the matter, son : \nd from the common’st creature pluck a glove,
ne . And wear it as a favour; and with that

l ae lessly turned. (2) Ever. |

(4) Perplexe founded. 5) Breeding
s and tournaments, 1) Perplexed, confo (5) 8

ees382

He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Bt Boling. As dissolute, as desperate:

  
  
    
  
  
   
  
 
     
     
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
    
 
 
  
 
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
     
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
  

 

Sen

 

 

O loyal father of a treacherous son!

Thou sheer,! immacul: ite, and silver fountain,

From whence this stream through muddy pass age:

Hath held his current, and defil’d himse If!

Thy overflow of good converts to bad:

And thy abundant goodness shall excuse

This deadly blot in thy digressing? si on.
York. So shall my virtue be his vice’s bawd ;

And he shall spend mine honour with his sh: ime,

As thriftless sons their scraping fathers’ gold,

\ Mine honour lives when his dishonour die S,

Or my sham’d life i in his dishonour lies :

Thou kill’st me in his life ; giving him breath,

The traitor lives, the true man’s put to death,

3

ensign see

Transparent.
An old ballad,

(2) Transgressing,
1

tt) De

KING RICHARD Ii.

    

ict &
Duch. [ Within.] What ho, my liege! for God’s

_ yet, through| sake let mein, |
E i both Boling. What shrill-voic’d suppliant makes this
ae Fil | { see some sparkles of a better hope, | _ eager cry? :
. att Which elder days may happily bring forth. | Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king ;
o he But who comes here ? on. 8 j Ki et ;
j He ie a Enter Aumerle, hastily. Aan ggar 1 oe ae hed nae oa beter
: be Aum. Where is the king : | Boling. Our scene is alter’d,—from a serious
fe [ths . Boling. V\ hat means thing 3
Be) fl Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly ? And now chano’d to The 2 * and the King —
Hie ba Alum. God save your grace. I do beseech your) wy dangerous cousin, let your mother in;

\* majesty, { know, she’s come to pray for your foul sin.
| To have some confcrence with your grace alone. York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,

Li Boling. Withdraw yours elven, ay nd leave us here} More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.
fi “alone.— eunt I ’ercy nde 5-1 This fester’d joint cut off, the rest rests « ound ;
te What is the matter with our cousin now ? _ |This, let alone, will all the rest confound.

Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth,

4 {[K) i els, Ent r Due} ICSSs
He My tongue cleave to my roof withi in my mouth att Fig ere ‘ es
i Salesea a pardon, ere I rise, or spe: , on king, believe not this hard-hearted
a Boling. Intended, or c ommitte ee was this fault ae a’ t itaelf dolesk ebbeetiel,
| If but the first, how heinous e’ er it be, ? ee its¢ 1 ig sak receipe nar =e
a To.ywin thy after-love, I pardon the: York. t D ru oe woman, what dost thou
i Aum. Then give me ‘leave that I m: LY y turn the key,i ai We a oa err etace iene

j That no man enter till my tale be done. kee ae ee ae 8,

. Boling. Have thy desire. [. Sum. locks the door Puch a LXOrk, be patient: I Cal ie =
th York. [Within.] My liege, beware; look to] ,, ,. Ue lie wien gr ait ; [Kneels.
ks thyself; DOUNS. fuise up, oe arene s noe -

} Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. PS, cfcetaie pa Not yet, | mee Ulsores

bs Boling. Villain, Pll make ee iain. perma y. 7, Ot SVS Wie Tk oe fer <n knees,
bi Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand ; knd neve She CRY Ba% the happy sees,
oh Thou hast no cause to fear. Pill on a td joy : until oes bid me joy, .

‘ York. [{Within.] Open the door, secure, fool- aro aaa ee eee bod 7 my
a hardy king: “dum. Unto my mother’s prayers, eric -
fi Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face ? os he oe ee As tee a

i Open the door, or I will break it open. LOrk. ne uunst them both, my true pee

| [Bolingbroke Rpane Re saep. Il may’ t th u thrive, if thou grant any =r
Enter York. Duch. Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face ;
Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak ; His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest ;
Recover breath; tell us how near is d: incver, His words ‘ome from his mouth, ours from our
That we may arm us to encounte r it. enh
York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt! He pri ays but aes and would be denied;
know We pray with heart, an d soul, and all beside :
i The treason that my haste forbids me show. | His weary join ts would gladly rise, | know ;
Alum. Remember, as thou read’st, thy promise| Our knees shall kneel till to the eround they grow.
past : His prayers are full of false } hypocrisy ;
I do repent me ; read not my name there, }Ours, of true zeal and deep integrity.
My heart is not confe derate me my hand, Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
York. ’Twas, villain, ere ‘hand did set it)That merey, which true prayers ought to have.
down.— | Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
I tore it from the traitor’s bosom, king: | Duch. Nay, do not say—stand up
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence Rut, pardon, first; and afterwards, stand up.
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove |An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. | Pardon—should be the first word of thy speech.
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold cons spi-|[ never long’d to hear a word till now .
racy !— |Say—pardon, king; let pity teach thee how:

The word ts short, but not so short as sweet ;
No word like pardon, for kings’ mouths so meet.

eo, ;

| York. Speak it in French, king ;
LOY >
?? le
|

, say, pardonnez
Duch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to de-
stroy
\h, my sour oe my hard-hearted Jord,
| Chat set’st the word itself against the word !—
Speak, pardon, as ’tis current in our land ;
1e chopping Freneh we do not understand.
une eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there :
in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear;
| That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
|Pity may move thee, ps ardon to rehearse,
| Boling. Good aunt, stand up.

iT}
P
) Thi
|Or,

(5) Excuse me,ao a in chs Pe I do not sue to stand, | Ti 1b many have, ane others must sit there :
ardon 8 all the suit I have in hand. | And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Boling. 1 pardon-him, as God shall pardon me. | Bearing their own misfortune on the back
_Duch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Of such as have before endur’d the like.
Yet am [ sick for fear : speak it again ; | Th play I, in one person, many people,
{wice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain, |An d none cont ate + : Sometimes am I king ‘
But makes one pardon strong, | hen treason marke ne wish myself a beggar,
Boling. With all my heart}/And so Tam: Then er dake penury
i par ‘don him. |Persu: ides me I was bett er when a king ;
Due A. god on earth thou art. !'Then am I king’d again: an by-and- by,
Boling. But for our trusty brother-im-law,—and/| Think that I am unkine’d - Boli in ebroke,
he abbot, (nd straieht am aoe Sate °B ut, w hate’ er I am,
With all the rest of that consorted crew,— | Nor I, age any man, that but m: un is,
destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. | With nothing shall be pleas’d, till he be eas’d,
Good uncle, help to orde r several powers! | With beine tothine. —Music do I hear? [ Music,
To Oxford, or W here er these traitors are . \Ha, ha! keep time :—How sour sweet music is,
They shall not live within this world, I swear, When time is broke, and no pro] ortion kept!
But I will have them, if I once know where. [So is it in the music of men’s lives,
Uncle, farewell,—and cousin too, adieu: And |

er “ff ave I the a3 untiness of e ar,
I

Your mother well hath pray’d, and prove you true. |T'o check time broke in a disorder’d string ; :

Duch. Come, my old son;—I pray God make} But, for the concord of my state and time,
thee new. [ Exeunt. ne not an ear to hear my true time broke.
hal re ars ‘ =e wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
SCENE IV.—Enter Exton, and a Servant. For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock:
Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words| My thoughts are minute s; and, with sighs, they jar*
he spake ? Their watches on to miné eyés, the outward watch,

Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear ? W hereto my finger, like a dial’s point,

Was it not so? Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Serv, Those were his very words. N iW, sir, the sour id, that tells what hour it is,
Exton. Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake| Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,

it twice. Ww hichis the bell; So sighs, and tears, and groans,

And urg’d it twice together; did he not? Show minutes, times, and hours :—but my time
Serv. He did. Runs posting on in Bolingbroke’s proud joy,
Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look’d on While stand fooling here, his Jack o’the clock.®

a. : This music mads me, let it sound no more;

As who should say,—I would, thou wert the man (|For, though it have holp madmen to their wits,
That an divorce this terror from my heart; In me, if seems it will make wise men mad.
Meaning, the kin xg at Pomfret. Come, let’s £0 ; 1¢ blessing on his heart tnat gives it me !
I am the ki ing’s friend, and will rid his foe. [Fyve.|For ’ts a sign of love; and love to Richard
ee ae . ,. |ts a strange brooch’ in this all-hating world,
SCENE V.—Pomfret. The dungeon of the castle. |
Enter King Richard. Enter Groom.
K. Rich. I have been studying how I may com-) Groom. Hail, r
pare K, Rich.

yal ii, '
Thanks, noble peer ;

This prison, where I live, unto the world: The cheapest of us 1s ten groats too dear.

And, for because the worid is populous, What art thou? and haw comest thou hither,
And here is not a creature but myself. Where no man never comes, but that sad dog

I cannot do it ;—Yet I'll h mmet iL Out. That brings me food, to make mistortune live y
My brain Ill prove the female to my soul; Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,
My soul, the father: and these two beget Vhen thou wert king; who, travelling towards
A generation of still-breeding t] lous hts, 2 York,

And these same thoughts people this little world ;*) With much ado, at length have gotten leave

; | ys | NY SON ‘mee? mactare far
In humours, like the pi ople of this we aa l'o look upon m) SOM tim G2 canter 5 Ate
For no thought is contented. The better sort,— |V, how it vearn’d my heart, when I beheld,

As thoughts of things divine,—are intermix’d In London streets, that coronation day,

With scruples, and do set the word itsell W hen Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary :
Against the word :? Chiat horse, that thou so often hast bestrid ;

As thus,—Come, lillle ones ; and then again,— Tha t horse, : that I so carefully have Grane

It is as hard to come, as for a camel kK, Rich, Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle
To thread the postern* of a nee dle’s eye. friend,

How went he under him ?

ry . . 4 « +. hy i | f
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plo
Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain’d the ground.

Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails

uM. iy tear a passage snrous h the flinty ribs K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his
Of this hard world, my agg d prison walls ; 2 back! -

And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. Mhat jade hath eat bread from my royal hand ;
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themse!ves,— This — hath made him proud with clapping
That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves, : um. se

Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down

4 ‘ t ‘ 1 : + Sn ,

Ried stocks, refuge their shame,— | (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck
sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame Since . ide mu
—— " ; Of that proud man that did usurp his back@

1) Forces. (2) oe te ‘ A .
5 loly scripture. (4) L ittle gate. (5) Tick. 7) An ornamented buckle, and also a jewel in
(6) Strike for him, like the figure of a man on/general.
be

a bell, | (8) Former,

Scoie IV, ¥. KING RICHARD It, 383ao eos

hee

Forgiveness, horse ! why do J rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw’d by man,

. Wast born to bear? [I was not made a horse;
ie |
os Hy And vet I bear a burden like an ass,
i a Spur-gall’d, and tir’d, by jauncing! Bolingbroke.
oa 9 f 7 . »
r t Enter Keeper, with a dish.
ti ,

 

Yi SCENE VI.—Windsor. 4 room in the castle.
Flourish. ae Bolingbroke, and Yor! tl
lords and attendants.
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hea
Is—that the rebels have consum’d with fire
Our towneof Cicester in Gloster é;
But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we héar not

Enter Northumberland.
Welcome, my lord: What is the news?
| North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all hap-
piness.
The next news 1s,—I have to London sent
The heads of Salisbur y, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent;
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here.
| Presentin 2 a paper.

(1) Jaunting. (2) Immediately,

Keep. Fellow, give place ; here is no longer stay.

y 4 l'o the Groom.
‘ K. Rich, Wf thou love me, ’tis time thou wert
Bie | away.
f Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my
)
Fi | ’ 5 ri ss
Ba. heart shall say. | kavit.
1 Keep. My lord, will’t please you to fall to ?
hi K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.
Keep, My lord, I dare not; sir Pierce of Exton, |
1
who
Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.
K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and
hag }
ii : thee $ "he
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
’ .
i [ Beats Lhe Keeper.
i : Keep. Help, help, help!
a . wa 4 ,
| Enter Exton, and servants, armed.
K. Rich. How now? what means death in this
4 rude » assault?
‘i Villain, thy own hand yields thy death’s instrument.
f LS snaichine @ weepon, @N L killin yr OE.
} Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
[ He kills another, then Exton strikes him down.
That hand shall burn in never-quenching tire,
f That staggers thus my person.—Exton, thy fleres
‘ hand
a Hath with the king’s blood stain’d the king’s ow:
ii land.
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to di
[pi S
Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood:
Both have I spilt 5 QO, would the deed were good!
For now the devil, that told me—I did well,
Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king V’ll bear ;—
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
1 ik eunt

  
    
 
 
 
 
  
    
    
   
  
   
 
   
    
  
 
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
 
   
  
    
 
 
  
     
 
 
  
   
   
 
  
    
  
  
  
        

   

224 KING RICHARD Ii. Act PB.

Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy
ps Lins 3
|And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

Enter Fitzwater.

|
|
| Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to Lon-
don
The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely ;
Two of the dangerous and consorted traitors,
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Boling. Thy pains, Fitz water, shall not be forgot,
Right noble is thy merit, weil I wot,

Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlisle.
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West-
minst Ler,
Vith clog of conscience, and sour melancholy,
{ath yielded up his body to the pTave ;
>ul here is Carlisle, living , 10 abide

\
!
I

‘Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.

Boling, Carlisle, this is your doom :—
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
Niore than thou hast, and with it joy thy life ;
50, as thou liv’st in peace, die fre e from strife :
‘or though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
Ligh sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

‘

inter Exton, with atlendants oearing a coffin.

Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present

Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
he mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Sad, aux, by me hither brought.
Loling. Exton, | thank thee not; for thou hast
wrought

. deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,

yon my head, and all this famous land.

Exton, From your own mouth, my lord, did 1
this deed.

Boling. 'They love not poison that do poison need,
Nor do I thee ; though | did wish him dead,
{ hate the murderer, love him murdered,
Vhe guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour:
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,

ver show thy head b ry day nor night,——

Lords, I protest, my soul is full of wo,

Chat blood should sprinkle me, to make me crow:
Come, mourn with 1 me for w hat I do lament,

And put on sullen black incontinent ;?

I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :—
Vlarch sadly after; grace my mournings here,

In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt.
eon eenene
This play is one of those which Shakspeare has

+}

apparently revised; but as success in works of jn-
vention is not always proportionate to labour, it is
ot finished at last with the happy foree of some
other of his tragedies, nor can be said much to af-
lect the passions, or enlarge the understanding.

JOHNSON,King Henry the Fourth.

Henry, ae ?
5

Prince John of Lanc c

Earl of Westmor: land, ?
Sir Walter Blunt, om
Thomas Perc y, earl of Wore
Henry Percy, earl of Ni rthumbe
Henry Percy, surname | Hotspu

Edmund Mo: ‘timer, €

Archibald, rl of Dor
Owen Gle Stowe
Sir Richard Vernon.
Sir John Falstaff.

SCENE I —Lor Nl.
Enter Kine Li nry
Blunt, and other:

King Hi

S
0 shak en as we are, so

Find we a time for frichted |

And breathe short-wind
To be commene’d in
No m re the thir

; y 1 “
Shall daub her lips with her «

No more shall trene ung ¥v

Nor bruise her flowrets with t

Of hostile paces; those opy

Which,—like the meteors of
All of one nature, of one subst

Did lately meet in the int

And furious c lose of civil bu

Shall now, in mutual, we
March all one way: and
Against t acquaintance, kin

The edge of war, like an iN-she atl
No more shall cut his master.
As far as to the sepulchre of

(Whose soldier now, under
We are impressed and

.
Forthwith a power?’ of English sh
1
'

Whose arms were mou

Therefore we meet not now

OF «

Scroop, archbish: p of ¥ ric.

ryt rs . i. “ Sm »
| nereitore, tricenas
envayv

1.
Ly

ns to the fering.

nds to the kin

hle ]

DIeSSeCqd Cross

ht.)

ill we levy:

ded in their mothers’ womb
To chase these pagans, in those
Over whose acres walk’d thos:
Which, fourteen hundred yea
For our advantage, on the bitte
But this our purpose is a twely
And bootless* "tis to tell you—we

blessed icet,

, were nal’

r cross
ionth old,
will go

-— Then let me he:

}

Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.®

) Strands, banks of the se

(1
(2) The Fury of discord.
(3

Force, army. (4) Needless,

|
(5) Expedition, '

PART OF

 

LO. Bardolph.

Lady Perey, » wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mor-

t¢
uady Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and wife
to Vortimer.
‘Irs. Quickly, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap.

 

 

Lords, Ojjicers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain,
Drawers, two Carrvrs, Travellers, and ./ft-
le nts

Scene, England.
lest. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
many limits® of the charge set down

But yesternight gyri all athwart, there came

Lp from Wales, loaden with heavy news ;

lose worst was. 5 alta it the noble I Mortimer,
Li nea the men of Herefordshire to fight
the irregular and wild Glendower,

\ hands of that Welshman ‘taken,
Anda Ol mid « | “his 7 e ople butchered :
lead corps there was such misuse,

Such beastly, shameless transformation,

Wi bee omen done, as may not be,
Without much sh ime, re -told or spoken of.

\. Hien. It seems then, that the tidings of this
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

vest. This, match’d with other, did, my gra-«

cious lord;

*more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day,’ the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
\t Holmes don met,
id spe nd a sad and bloody hour ;
is by dis charge of their artillery,
\nd shape of likelihood, the news was told;
for he that brought them, in the very heat
\nd pride of theirconte ntion did take horse,

Uncer tain of the issue any way.
A. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious
aa nd,
Sir Walter Bl int, new lighted from his horse,

}

stall ‘de with the v ariation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours :
And he hath brought us smooth and weleome news.

The earl of Douglass is discomfited ;

}

Ten thous: ind bold Scots, two and twenty knights,

1» 11-34

Balk’d® in their own blood, did sir Walter see
}n Holmedon’s plains: of prisoners, Hotspur took
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son

(6) Estimates. (7) September 14,
(§) Covered with dirt of different colours,
(9) Piled up in a heap.

3 C0Se an tens

ee er

 

 

b
ih
t
:
bd
+
I
ie i
.
ij %
a (be
. fF

886 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IY,

To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith,
And is not this an honourable apoii ?
A gallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not ?
Vest. In faith,
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
K. Hen, Yea, there thou mak’st me sad, and
mak’st me sin
In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son:
A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue ;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant ;
Who is sweet fortune’s minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot baat dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. QO, that it could be prov’d,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang’d
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call’d mine—Percy, his—Plantagenet !
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts :—What think you,
coz,
Of this young Percy’s pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris’d,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
J shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife. |
West. This is his uncle’s teaching, this is Wor-|
cester,
Malevolent to you in all aspécts ;' .
Which makes him prune? himself, and bristle up |
The crest of youth against your dignity.
K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this ; |
And, for this cause, a while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will nold at Windsor, so inform the lords :
But come yourself with speed to us again ;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.

SCENE II.—The same. Another room in the
alace. Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and|

|

|

| Exe wnt,

alstaff.

}
jrobe of durance ?'

|
|
|
|

vict Ie

Fol. Marry, then, sweet wag, wheti thou art
king, let not us, that are squires of the night’s body
be calleti thieves of the day’s beauty; let us be—
Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, min-
ions? of the moon: And let men say, we be men
of good government: being govern’d as the sea is,
by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under
whose countenance we—steal.

P. Hen. Thou say’st well; and it holds well too:
for the fortune of us, that are the moon’s men,
doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as
the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: A
purse of gold most resolutely snatch’d on Monday
inight, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday
lmorning; got with swearing—lay by ;* and spent
| with erying—bring in:* now, in as low an ebb as
ithe foot of the ladder; and, by ane by, in as high
a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

Fal. By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad.

 

And is

|
jnot my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ?

P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of
the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet
Fal. How now, hew now, mad wag? what, in
thy quips, and thy quiddities ?- what a plague have
I to do with a buff jerkin ?

P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my
hostess of the tavern ?

fal, Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning,
many a time and oft.

P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

Fal. No; Vil give thee thy due, thou hast paid

lall there.

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin
would stretch; and, where it would not, I have

used my credit.
|

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here
apparent that thou art heir apparent,—But, I
pr’ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows stand-
ing in England when thou art king? and resolu-
tion thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old
father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art
king, hang a thief,

P. Hen. No: thou shalt.

|. Fal. Shall 1?O rare! By the lord Pll bea brave

Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking |
of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and
sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast
forgotten to demand that truly which thou would’st |
truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with|
the time of the day? unless hours were cups of,
sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues}
of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, |
and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in)
flame-colour’d taffeta; I see no reason, why thou
should’st be so superfluous to demand the time of
the day.

Fal, Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for
we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven
stars; and not by Pheebus,—he, that wandering
knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag,
when thou art king,—as, God save thy grace
(majesty, I should say ; for grace thou wilt have
none, )——

P. Hen. What, none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will
serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly,
roundly.
1) Points. (2) Trim, as birds clean their feathers.

 

3) Favourites. (4) Stand still.
(6) The dress of sheriffs’ officers,

(5) More wine.

judge.

P. Hen. Thou judgest false already ; I mean,
thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so
become a rare haneman. ~

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps
with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I
can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits ?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the
hangman hath no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am
as melancholy as a gib’ eat, or a lugged bear.

P. Hen. Or an old lion: or a lover’s lute.

Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.®

P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the
melancholy of Moor-ditch ? :

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes ; and
art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,—
sweet young prince,—But, Hal, I pr’ythee, trouble
me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou
and I knew where a commodity of good names
were to be bought: An old lord of the council ra-
ted me the other day in the street about you, sir;
but I marked him not: and yet he talked very
wisely ; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked
wisely, and in the street too. .

(7) Gib cat, should be lib cat,—a Scotch term
at this day for a gelded cat,
(8) Croak of a frog,FIRST PART OF KING HENRY fy, 32?
ardedt cries out
cS, und ne man fecards |

a? ;
i, 0 | thou hast damnable }

Lgive over this lif a

oo

peaked

Treat me with ignominy.
ade an appointment,

      
     
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
   
    
    
      
  
 
 
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
    
     
   
    
   
 
  
      
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
    
  
    
  
  
 
 
 

Fi

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of pera
isuasion, and he the ears of proiiting, that what
thou spe akest. may move, and what he hears may
be bel aS ved, that the true prince may (for recrea-
tion sake) prove a false thief ; for the poor abuses
of the time want countenance. Farewell : You
‘ shall find ine in Eastch heap.

P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring ! Farewell

Allinger summer!’ [Exit Falstaft

Pons. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride

th us to-morrow: T have a Jest to execute, that I
cannot manage alone, Fal taff, Bardolph, Peto,
and Gadshill, shall rob those me n that we have al-
ready way-laid; yourself, and I, will not be there:
and when they have the booty, if you and I do not
rob them, eut this head from my shoulders.

P. dden. But how shail we part with them in
tting forth ?

Poins. \V Ys we will set forth before or after
m, and eppoint them a place-of meeting, where-
in it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they
esftara upon the exploit themselves: which
they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set

P. Hen. Ay, but, ’tis like, that they will know
8, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other
ppointment, fo be ourselves,
Poins. Tut! our horses the ‘y shall not see, Pll
lic them in the wood: our visors we will chance,
(ter we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of
or the nonee,® to immask our noted out-
ward garments
P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us.
Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be
is true-bred reek i as ever turned back; and
for the third, if he fight loneer than he sees re ason,
I’}] forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be,
the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rozue
will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty,
it least, he fought with; what w: ards, what blows,
yhat extremities he endured; and, in the re proof?
his, lies the jest.
. Hen. Well, PIL go with thee: provide us all
os necessary, and meet me to-morrow night i In
ieastcheap, there Pll sup. Farewell.
Poins. F ee my lord, [Exit Poins.
Hen. 1 know you all, and will a while uphold
Tj Ths le? cl hu mour ot your idle ness 3
yet herein will Limitate the sun:
\Who doth permit the base econtacious clouds
her up his beauty from the world,
ease again to be himself,
ic may be more wonder’d at,
by breaking through the foul and uely mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strancle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work ;
But, when they seldom come, the y Wi sh’d-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare eecidents.
o, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
Ang pay the debt I never promised,
Ry How much ae ‘tier than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes ;!°
And, like bright metal on a sullen? eround,
My} re lormatic yn, glittering o’er my fault,
shall show more roodly, and attract more eycs,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
Pil so offend, to make offence a skill:
Redeeming time, when men thinkleast I will. [Ezx.

ol t}
P

\

(7) Fine weather at All-hallown-tide (7. e. All
Saints, Noy. Ist) is ealled an All-hallown summer.
(S) Oeeasion.

(9) Confutation. (10) Expectations. (11) Dull,hci

rs

 

 

   
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
      
     
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
    
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
   
    
  
 
    
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 

"Rk FIRST PART OF KING HENRY lV, ict I.

SCENE U.—The same. Another room in ha Out of the bdwels of the harmless earth,
nalace. Enter King Henry, Northumberland,) Which many a good tall’ fellow had destroy’ d
NV orcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and|So cow ardly ; ahd, but for these vile guns,

others. ‘He would } himself have bee a a soldier.
K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and tem-| ‘This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
perate ‘I answer’d indirectly, as I said ;
)
Unapt to stir at these indignities, a I besee oH you, ie Aa a ee
And you have found me; for, accordingly, Betwi Sache 1 - - 7 i hic & inatdats
You tread upon my patience: but, be sure, “Blast rt Taner ofa nsitt sy Sill a:
I will from henceforth rather be myself, = \ circumstance Consider d, fous my
Mighty, and to be fear’d, than my condition ;! le
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down rn gine ip Harry Pe a3 the ig 2
; / ; - eich : . ‘ such a place

And therefore lost that title of respect, O SUCH & Person SNC. AR SUeo & PiGtks

W hich the proud soul ne’er pays, but to the proud. a such a aoe ae oe rest re-told,
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little de-|; lay reasonably die, and’ never rise

antyie l’o do him wrong, or any way impeach
The scourge of greatness to be used on it; What then he said, so he uns a it now.
And that sume greatness too which our own hands) ,, K. Hen. Why, ye re ie doth deny his prisoners ;
Have holp to make so portly. But with pr oviso, tg myst aieaae
North. My lord,— |That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
K.Hen. W orcester, get thee gone, for I see His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ;
danger : “¢ Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray’d
And disobedience in thine eye: O, sir, eee aoe that he did lead to fight
Your presence is too bold and peremptory, ara ee etek ae ie eae tear d Sena ws ;
And majesty might never yet.endure | VV nose daughter, oe Wenn 1. the earl of March
The moody frontier? of a servant brow. Hath lately married. Shall our coffe ay then
You have good leave’ to leave us; when we need |¥© CM Pile d, oar a ae pes home. |
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.— | Shall we buy treason ! ang | indent® with fears,
[Exit Worcester. | When they have lost and forfeited themselves |
You were about to speak. [To North. No, on the barren mountains let him starve .
North. Yea, my ood lord. For I shall ne ver hold that man my friend,
Those prisoners in your highness’ name demanded, W hose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, l'o ransom home revolts d Mortimer.
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied | Hot. Re vortes aa ee ae
As is deliver’d te your maje sty : He never did fall off, my sovert ion liege,
Either envy, therefore, or misprision But by the chance of war ;—To prove that true,
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. Needs no m Ra but one tongue for all those w ounds,
Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. Those moutl ied wounds, which valiantly he took,
But, I remember, when the fight was done, When on the gentle Severn’s sedgy bank,
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, In ae ‘le oppos uuOn, hand to hand,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, | He did ¢ onfound the best part of an hour
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress’d, In changing hardiment?” with great Glendower :

: Three times they breath’d. and thres times ai
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap’d, Phrec eae an breath’d, and three times did they
Show’d like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; a oe

He was perfumed like a rafllines + Upon agreement, of oer A Severn’s flood ;
And ’twixt his finger and his thumb he held Wi ho then Wa shted we 1 their $ ody looks,
én ic aahtah non o ; tan fearfully among the tre gr
A pouncet-box,* which ever and anon — ind hid bie orient? Riba | : A hol 7 os k
He gave his nose, and took’t away again ;— nd hid his eri OM 5m 1GuOW Dank

: : ; ; Mloodes ;
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, 3 me = vee d wit ae ra combatants,
T'ook it in snuff:—and still he smil’d, and talk’d; | XCVer Cid Dare and rotten policy

And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, Colour her working with such deadly wounds ;

He call’d them—untaught knaves, unmannerly, Nor never could the noble Mortimer

To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse cs Receive so many, and all willingly:

Betwixt the wind and his nobility. Phen let him n ot be slander’d with revolt.

With many holiday and lady terms | A. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Perey, thou dost

He question’d me; among the rest demanded i be lie him,

My prisoners, in your majesty’s behalf. He never did encounter with Glendower ;

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, I tell thee,

‘To be so pester’d with a popinjay,’ He durst as we u have met the devil alone,

Out of my grief* and mYfaimpatience, “. \s Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Auswer’d neglectingly, I Know not what; = (rt not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth

He should, or he should not ;—for he mad leme mad, Let me not hear you spe ak of Mortimer :

To see him shine so brisk, arid smell so swee t, iA nd me oe ene with the speediest means,

And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, Or you shall he ‘ar in such a kind from me

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the' oF will displease aay —My lord Northumberland,
mark !) » teense your departure with your son:

And telling me, the sovereign’st thing on earth Se nd us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.

Was parm: Lceti, for an inward bruise [BE pag! King Henry, Blunt, end train.
And that it was great pity, so it was, | Hot. And if the de vil ecme and roar for them,
That villanous saltepetre should be diga’d |! will not send them :—I will after straight,
(1) Disposition, (2) Forehead, | (5) Farrot. (6) Pain, (7) Brave.
Ready assent. | (8) Sign an indenture, (9) Expend,
4) A small box for musk or other perfumes, (10) ) Hardiness, (11) Curled,Scene IIT. FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IY, 38?
And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, | And now I will unclasp a secret book,
Although it be with hazard of my head. 'And to your quick-conceiving discontents
North. What, drunk with choler ? stay, and|I’ll read you matter deep and dangerous ;.
pause a while; |As full of peril, and advent’rous spirit,
Here comes your uncle. |As to o’er-walk a current, roaring loud,

: On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
Re-enter Worcester. i

Hot. Speak of Mortimer ?
Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him:

Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,

And shed my dear blood drop by drop i’the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer

As high ithe air as this unthankful king,

As this ingrate! and canker’d Bolingbroke.

Vorth. Brother, the king hath made your nephew

mad. | Zo Worcester.

Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone ?

Hot, He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners ;
And when I urg’d the ransom once again
Of my wife’s brother, then his cheek look’d pale ;
And on my face he turn’d an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

Wor, I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim’d,
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood ?

‘Vorth. He was; | heard the proclamation:
And then it was, when the unhappy king
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon !) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition :

From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos’d, and shortly, murdered.
Wor. And for whose death, we in the world’s
wide mouth
Live seandaliz’d, and foully spoken of.
Hot. But, soft, I pray you: Did king Richard
then oe
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown ?

Vorth. He did: myself did hear it.

Hot. Nay,
That wish’d
But shall it be, that you.—that set the crown

Upon the head of this forgetful man:

hen I cannot blame his cousin king,

iim on the barren mountains starv’d.

And, for his sake, wear the detested blot

Of murd’rous subérnation,—shall it be,

That you a world of curses undergo;

Seing the agents, or base second means,

The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather ?—
QO, pardon me, that I descend so low,

To show the line, and the predicament,
Wherein you range under this subtl kin’.—
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power

Did gage them both in an unjust behalf,—
As both of you, God pardon it!
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, this canker,? Bolingbroke !
And shall it, in more shame, be fartl
That you are fool’d, discarded, and shook off

have done —_

;

1
r an r)
ey PORETI,

By him, for whom these shames ye underwent }
No; yet time serves, wherein you may r deem
Your banish’d honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again:
Revenge the jeering, and disdain’d* contempt,
Of this proud king; who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt he owes to you,

Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.

Therefore, I say,——

Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more |

(1) Ungrateful. (2) The dog-rose.
(3) Disdainful. (4) A rival. _ (5)
(6) Shapes created by his imagination,

(5) Friendship.

Hot. If he fall in, good night :—or sink or swim ,
Send danger from the east unto the west,

So honour cross it from the north to south,
And*let them grapple ;—O ! the blood more stirs,
| fo rouse a lion, than to start a hare.

North, Imagination of some great exploit

Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot, By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap,
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fae’d moon:
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluek up drowned honour by the locks ;

So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival,* Ml her dignities :

/But out upon this half-fae’d fellowship !§

Vor. He apprehends a world of figures* here,
Sut not the form of what he should attend.—
(,00d cousin, give me audience for a while.
fot. Lery you mercy.

Vor. Those same noble Scots,
That are your prisoners,——
Hot. I’}] keep them all ;

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them:
No, if a Seot would save his soul, he shall not:
('ll*keep them, by this hand.
W or. You start away,
And lend no ear unto my purposes,—
Those prisoners you shall keep.
Hot. Nay, I will; that’s flat: ~—
He said, he wonld not ransom Mortimer ;
l’orbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
\nd in his ear, Pll holla—Mortimer !
Nay.
Ill have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keep his anger still in motion.
Wor. Hear you,
Cousin, a word.
| Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy,’
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke:
{nd that same sword-and-buckler® prince of
Wales,—
But that I think his father loves him not,
|And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I'd have him poison’d with a pot of ale,
Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you,
When you are better temper’d to attend,
North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient
fool
| Art thou, to break into this woman’s mood ;?
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own?
| lot. Why, look you, I am whipp’d and scourg’d
with rods.
Ngttled, and stung with pismires, when I hear
O®this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard’s time,—What do you call the place 7—
\ plague upon’t !—it is in Gloucestershire ;—
’T was where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept ;
| Ilis uncle York ;—where I first bowed my knee
‘Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
'When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.
| North. At Berkley castle.
| Hot. You say true:

 

(7) Refuse. ‘
(8) The term for a blustering quarrelsome fellow.
' (9) Mind, humour,eee ee

390 FIRST PART OF
Why, what a candy! deal of courtesy

aac This fawning greyhound then did proffer me
Look, —when his infunt fortune came to ag
And, — gentle Harry Percy,—and, kind cou: sin, ee

: eee a mies

 

Vil steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer:
Where you and Douglas, and our power rs at once
(As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet,
To bear our fortunes i in our own strong arms,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

i North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive,

I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adicu :—O, let the hours be short,

) Sugared.

) A body of forces.
) The constellation ursa major.

; Name of his horse, (6) Measure,
7) Wet, (8) Worms,

] (2) Conjecture.
3
4

(
(
f

   

KING HENRY IV. Act Il.
wain‘* is over the new

[Pl be hanged: Charles’
What,

ichimney, and yet our horse not packed.
jostler !

| Ost. [Within.] Anon,

anon.

O, the ‘devil take such cozeners! lteeeGtod f (orgive| 1 Car. I pr’ythee, Tom, beat Cut’s® saddle, put
He me !|—— | few flocks in the point ; the poor jade is wrung
Pee? he Good uncle, tcll your tale, for I have done. jin the withers out of all cess.®

Wor. Nay, if you have : not, to’t again ; : . 2
} y Enter another Carrier.
We'll stay your [cisure. 7

. fot. Th ive done, i faith. 2’ Car. Peasé and beans are as dank” here asa
E hd f Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners doe, and that is the next wav Lu vive poor jades
et Deliver them up without their ransom straight, ithe bots :® this house is turned upside down, since
i And make the Douglas’ son your only mean Robin ostler died.

' For powers in Scotland; which,—for divers reasons,| 1 Car. Poor fellow! never joyed since the price
h Which I shall send you written,—be assur’d, lof oats rose; it was the death of him.

Will easily be granted.—You, my lord,— 2 Car. I think, this be the most villanous house
| ‘ cat : [To Nort! 1umt verland.|in all London road for fleas: I am stung like a
4 Your son in “cotland being thus employ’d,— tench.
it Shall secretly into the bosom cep ; | 1 Car. Like a tench? by the mass, ~— is ne’er
bi Of that same noble prelate, well below’d, ‘a kine in Christendom could be better bit than I
tl The archbishop. Ihave been since the first cock.

| Hot. Of York, is’t not? 2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne’er a jorden,
i bor. True; who bears hard ' and then we leakin your chimney; and your cham-
| His brother’s death ¢ at Bristol, the lord Scroop. her-lie breeds fleas like a loac

I speak not this in estimation,* | Car. What, ostler! come away and be hanged,
ee As what I think might , but what I know lcome ava?!
K Js ruminated, plotted, and se! down ; | 2 Car. J have a gammon of ‘bacon, and two razes

And only stays but to behold ee face sf vinger, to be delivered as far as Charing-cross.
¥ Of that occasion that shall bring it on. | 1 Car. ?Odsbody! ie ce ys in my pannier
i Hot. I smell it; upon life, it will do well eee a!
ke] ponte hens Os SPUN SAY UG, ib WI OO Wee, * lars gui tarved.—What, ostler'—A plague on
a North. Before the game’s a-fool, thou still let’st}{hee ! hast thou never an eye in thy head? eanst
4 slip. _, {not hear? An ’twere not as good a deed as drink,
| . Hot. Why, -it eannot choose but be a noble!t, break the pate of thee, I am a Very villain.—
i plot :— 9 b Come, and be hanred :—Hast no faith in thee ?
it And then the power of Scotland, and of York,—| as)

To join with Mortimer, ha? Enter Gadshill.

Wor. And so they shall. | Gad od morrow, carriers. Whel’s o’cleck ?

ia Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim’d. ay Car, 7 think i be two o'clock.
Wor. And ’tis no little reason bids us speed, | Gads. I pr’ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see
To save our heads by raising of a head :* lmv eeldine in the stable.
For, bear ourselves as even as we can, | 1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye; I know a trick
The king will always think him in our debt ; lworth two of that, faith.
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, | Gads. I pr’ythee, lend me thine.
| Till he hath found a time to pay us home. | 2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell?—Lend me thy
And see already, how he doth begin lantern, quoth-a ?—marry, I'll see thee hanged
i To make us strangers to his looks of love. l frst.
Hot. He does, he docs ; we’ll be reveng’d on} Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to
: him. | : _ |eome to London?
Wor. Cousin, farewell :—No further go in this,| 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle,
Than I by letters shall direct your course. — I warrant thee.—Come, neighbour Mugs, we’ll
y > » > ; ‘ . 2 . .
When time is ripe (which will be sudd enly ») icall up the gentlemen; they will along with com-

pany, f for they have great charge. [Exe. Carricrs,
a ads. What, 7 ! chamberlain !

| Cham. [W ithin.] At hand, quoth pick-purse,"!

Gu is. That’s even as fair as—at hand, quoth the

ie haitaten : for thou variest no
‘of purses, than giving direction
ling ; thou lay’st the plot how.

more from picking
doth from labour

}

           

     

 

Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud Our | Enter Chamberlain.
7 sport! [i x Cu. | Chan. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It holds
anceiiponenoes that I told you yesternight: There's a
ACT TI \franklin'? in the wild of Kent, hath broucht three
—— : jh undred mare with him in gold: I heard him tell
SCENE JI.—Rochester. .4n inn-yard. Enter be to one of his « Sores last night at supper ;>a
ly a Carrier, with a lantern in his hand. |kind of auditor ; one that ath a ibundance of “charge
, God knows what. They are up already, and
A 1 Car. Heigh ho! An’t be not four by the eayer" for eggs and butter: They will aw ay presently,
}
j

(9) Spotted like a tench.

(10) A small fish supposed to breed fleas,

(11) A proverb, from the pick-purse being always
ready. * :

(12) Freeholder.Scene II. FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 391

Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not will 1 Saint Nicho-/miles afoot with me ; and the stony-hearted villains
las’ clerks,’ Pll give thee this neck. ‘know it well enough: A plague upon’t, when
_ Cham. No, Vlinone of it: I pr’ythee keep that|thieves cannot be true to one another! They whis-
for the hangman ; for, I know, thou warrhis st We.] Whew!—A plague upon you all Give me

Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may.|my horse, you rogues ; give me my horse, and be

Gads, What talkest thou to me of the hangman?\hanged. ~
if t hang, ll make a fat pair of gallows: for, if I) P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine
hang, « old sir John hangs with me; and, thou/ear close to the sround, and list if thou canst hear
knowest, he’s no starveling. ‘Tut! there are other the tread of travellers.

Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for| Fel. Have you any levers to lift me up again,
sport sake, are content to do the profession some being down? *Sblood, Pll not bear mine own flesh

} }

grace; that would, if matters should be looked/so far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father’s

into, for their own credit sake, make all whole. Ijexchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt!‘ me
am joined with no foot land-rakers,? no long-staff, |thus ?

six-penny strikers; none of these mad, mystachio,| 2. Hen. Thu liest, thou art not colted, thou art
purple-hued malt-worms: but with nobility, and/uncolted.

tranquility; burgomasteis, and great onecyers ;3 Fal. I pr’ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my
such as can hold in: such as will strike sooner than|horse: good king’s son.

speak, and speak soonerthan drink, anddrinksooner| P. Hen. Out, yourogue! shall I be your ostler ?
than pray: And yet I lie; for they praycontinually| Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent

to their saint, the commonwealth: or. rath r, nol Tarters ! If I be t ta’en, ih peach for this. AnI

pray to her, but j her; for they ride up and have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy

down on her, and muke her their boots.4 tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison: Whena jest
Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots ?\is so forward, and afoot too,—I hate it.

will she hold out water in foul way? .. Enter Gadshill.
» are ; r will, om M ' 3 aa h | ju0! Gade. Giant.
nae ct ; ‘ * fe a “ “ we | ‘devel sib] _ as Fal So | do, against my will. ;
( . Nay. | fait a. i vais ! ). "tis our setter: I know his voice.
beholden to to fern-secd, for you Enter Bardolph.
walking invisible. Bard. What news ?
Gads. Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a shar Gads. Case ye, case ye; on with your Visors;
in our purchase,® as 1 am a true’ man there’s money of the king’s coming down the hill ;
Cham. Nay, rather lct me have it, as you are a/)’tjs going to the king’s exchequer.
false thief. Fal, You lie, you rogue ; ’tis going to the king’s
_ Gads. Gote; H is 2 common name to all)tavern. : .
men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the} Gads, There’s enough to make us all.
stable. Fare well you muad' knaye. | ixeunt, Fal. To he han ced.
SCE. VE ee, ee ia hill, Enter T*rince| 2+ fen. Sirs, you four aman front a the
oe it eel a atleink oid Date of somaerow lane ; Ned Poins, and I, will walk lower:
‘sta: , if “the y scape from your encounter, then they light
de ttl on us.
Poins. Come , Shelter, shelte I ha removed; Pe lo. How many be there of them ?
Falstaff’s horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet G as 3. Some eight, or ten.
P. Hen, Stand close. | Fal. ~ Zounds! will they not rob us?
Read : i. ‘nen What, a coward, sir John Paunch?
Enter } van Fal. Indeed, Iam not John of Gaunt, your grand-
Fal Poins! Poins, and be han le d! Poins! father ° but ve no coward, Hal.
P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneycd rascal; Whata| p, Hen. Well, we leave ‘that to the proof.
brawling dost thou keep! | Poins. Sirrah ‘J: ick, thy horse stands behind the
Fal. Where’s Poins, Hal? hedge; when thou nee dest him, there thou shalt
P, Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill;/find him. Farewell, and stand fast.
Ill ¢o seek him. | Pretends lo seck Poins. Fal. Nowe annot I strike him, if I should be

Fal. Iam accursed to rob in that thief’s com-' hanged.
‘rascal hath removed my horse, and tied| Pp. Hen, Ned, where are our disguises ?

many: th

‘im I know not where. If I travel but four foot; Poins, Here, hard by; stand close.
by the squir furt} cr ifvo . ] shi 1] I ( ik my Wii I, [E ment P. Henry and Poins.
Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all) Fl, Now, my masters, happy man be his dole,’
this, if I’scape hanging for killing that rogue. I)say 1; every man to his business.

i \ hi r! y tim¢ thi " a

have { sworn Ais com} ly rie I : z E nter a velleri:
two and ti years, and jy m’ bewitchec :
with the rocu seieinaty if the rascal have not| 1 Trav. Come, neighbour ; the boy shall lead our
eit “1 medicin -? to make me love him, I’ll be|horscs down the ‘hill: we'll walk afoot awhile, and
rive! ne medicine ) make t ve him, be | pe
hanced: it could not be else; I have drunk meati-|case oul legs.

Z 7. Lathe f Fi A ae a
cines.—Poins ![—Hal !—a plague upon you boln.—) =f Aicves. Stand.

sa dolph!—Peto!—I’ll starve, ere PI{ rob a foot) Trav. Jesu bless us ated
fi aa - An *twere not as good a deed as drink to} Fa!. Strike, down ith them; cut the villains
urther. twere not as good a deed lrink

i trie! man, and leave these rogues, I am the|throats: Ah! whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed

irmn truce nan, ag ea 1@és o7u . am ti

a toni varlet that ever chewed witha tooth. Ey; htiknaves! they hate us youth: down with them ;
Criest Arieéu Litt ( weweda Lil Lille

yards of uncyven ground, is threescore and ten fleece them.

) In what we acquire. (7) Honest.

) Square. (9) Love-powder. (10) Honest.

J

) Make a youngster of me, (12) Portion.

Cant term for highwaymen. (6
2») Foot (3) Public accountants. | (8
4) Booty. (5) Oiled, smoothed her over. . oOmae aS

SS Re

Tee earn

 

 

ea Re ee enya

392 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.

1 Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours
for ever.

Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied' knaves ;
done? No, ye fat chuffs ;2 I would, your store
were here! n, bacons, on! What t, ye knaves ?|
young men must live: You are grand-jurors, are|
ig We }} jure ye, faith. |

[Exeunt Fal. &c. driving the Travellers out. |

Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins.

P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men:
Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go mer-|
rily to London, it would be argume nt? for a week,
laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever.

oins. Stand close, I hear them coming.

}

Re-enter Thieves.

Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then|
to horse before day. An the prince and Poins be
not two arrant cowards, there’s no equity stirring:
there’s no more valour in that Poins, than ina wild
duck.

P. Hen. Your money.

Poins. Villians.

[4s they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set
upon them. Falstaff, afler a blow or two,
and the rest, run away, leaving their booly
behind them. ]

P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to

horse :

The thieves are scatter’d, and possess’d with fear
So strongly, that they dare not meet each other ;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards* the lean earth as he w walk alon;
Wer’t not for laughing, I should pity him.

Poins. How the rogue roar’d! [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—Warkworth. room in the castle.

Enter Hotspur, reading a let!

[Rushing out upon them.

 

But, for mine own part, my |
well contented to be there, in respect of the love J
beer your house.—He could be contented,—Why
is he not then? In respect of the love he bears ou
house :—he shows in this, he loves his own barn
better than he loves our house. Let me see som
more. The purpose you unde rtake, ts dangerous ;—
Why, that’s cert: un ; *Lis dangerous to take a cold
to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my lord fool, out
of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
The purpose you undertake, is dangerous; th
friends you have named, uncertain ; the time itself
unsorted ; and your whole plot too light, for tlh

counterpoise of so great an opposilion.—Say you so,

say you so ? ] say unto you again, you are a: hal-
low, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-
brain is this? By the Lord, our plot is a good plot

as ever was laid; our friends true and constant:

a good plot, good friends, and ful! of expectation :
an excellent plot, very good friends. Whata frosty-
spirited rogue is this! Why, my Ln d of York com-
mends the plot, and the general course of th

action. Zounds, an I were now by this raseal, }
could brain him with his lady’s fan. Is there no!
father, my uncle, and myself? lord Edmund

ortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower?
Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all
their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the
next month? and are they not, some of them, set!
forward already ? What a pagan rascal is this! an}

(1) Fat, corpulent.
ts A subject.
5) Occurrences.

(2) Clowns.
(4) Drops his fat.
(6) Drops.

Are ye un-|0

‘How now, Kate

‘Away, you trifler

 
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
    
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
    
   
   
 
   
  
   
  
  
   

   

Act Il,

jinfidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity
er fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay
pen all aut proce edings. O, I could divide my-
self, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish or
skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Han
‘him! let him tell the king: We are prepared: i
iwill set forward to-night.

Enter Lady Percy.
I must leave you within these
two hours.

Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus alone ?
For what ofte nce have I, this fortnight, been

’1A banish’d woman from my Harry’s bed?

Tell me, sweet lord, what js’t that takes from thee

| Thy stomac h, pleas ure , and thy golden sleep ?
| Why dost ow bend thine eyes upon the earth ;

And start sO often when thou sit’st alone?

Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ;

And mx n my treasures, and my rights of thee

To thick-ey’d musing, and curs’d melancholy 7

In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch’d,

And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:

Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ;

Cry, Cow age !—to the field! And thou hast talk’ d
s, and retires; of trenches, tents,

Ly lisadoe s, frontiers, parapets ;

{ basilisks, of cannon, culverin ;

f pri . and of soldiers slain

I ’currents® of a heady fight.

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,

And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep,

ners’ ransom,

[hat beads® of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles i late-disturbed stream :

And in thy face | deena motions have appear’d,
such as we see when men restrain their bre ath

On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are

these
av) business hath my lord in hand,
d I must know it, else he loves me not.
ss ho! is Gilliams with the nx *k te 7
Hot. Vhat ,no. 1S Glillams With the packet gone

Enter Servant.

Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago.

Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the
sheriff?

Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought, even now.

Hot. What wae. / a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
Serv. It is, my lord.

Hot. That roan shall be my throne,
Well, T will back him straight: O esperance re
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Ex. Serv.

j But hear you, my lord.

Hot. What say’st, my lady ?

Lady. What is it carries you away F

Hot. My horse
My love, my horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!

4 ]

\ weasel hath not such a deal of spleen,

yOu al ss’d with. In faith,
li] know your business, Harry, that I will.
t fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
\bout his title ; and hath sent for you,

o line® his enterprize: But if you go——
H t. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
bi Come, come, you paraquito,? answer me
Directly | 0 this question that I ask.
In fj ith 1, Pll break thy little finger, Harry,
An hou wilt not tell me all things true.
soe Away,

!—Love ?—I love thee not,

(7) Motto of the Percy family.
(8) Strengthen, (9) Parrot.Scene IV.

I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world,

To play we h mamme ts,' and to tilt with lips:
We must have bloody noses, and crack’d
And pass them current too.—Gods m«
What say’st thou, Kate
with me?
Do you not

crowns
,my horse!
what eate st thou hay

>

}

Lady. love me? do you not, indeed

FIRST PART OF KING

  
   
   
 
  
   
      
   
  
    
   
     
  
   
 
 
    
 
  
   
 
 
   
  
 
 
    
  
 
  
      
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  

393

Enter Francis,

han. Anon, anon, sir.—Look down into the

Pomegranate, Ralph.
Hen. Come hither, Francis,
Fran. My lord.

P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ?
Fran. Forsooth,

Well, do not then: for, since you love me not. "01 five year, and as much as to—
I will not love myself. Do you not love me? rOmne, (Within. ] Francis !
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no. Pra AN bon, anon, sir.

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride ? = Hen. | ive years! by’r lady, a long lease for
And when I am o’hor eback, I will swear he clinking of pewter. Bu ‘ Francis, darest thou
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; be so valiant, as to play t the coward. with thy in-
I must not have you henceforth question m« denture * id to show it a fair pair of heels, and run
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout : trom It | ee
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude, E ‘Gn. UO lord, sir! Pil be sworn upon all the
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kat . ks In Bngiand, I could find in my heart—

l know you wise : but Ve t no furth r Wi e, x Ins, | W rf hin | F ri ane is |
Than Harry Perecy’s wile: constant you ari ee ane anon, a . .
But yet a woman: and for secrecy, P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis ?
No lady closer; for I well believe, fran. let me e,—About Michaelmas next I
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know a <r : :
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate! Poins. | Within. ] Francis !
Lady. How! so far? x? \non, sir.—Pray you, stay a little, my lord.
Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you f. dten. Nay, but hark JOU; Francis : For the
Kate : ») Sug ur thou gavest me,—’twas a pennyworth, was’t
thither I eo. thither shall vo: nots
a wil I ere . . \ ; _ I os O} rd, sir! I would if had been two,
Will this content you. Kate? d . Hen. | will give thee for it a thousand pound :
Lady. It must. of force sk me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
2 re Poi Within] Francis!
SCENE IV.—Eastcheap. Jr the B a non, Francis ), Francis: but to-
Head Tavern. Enter Prince Her rd Poins. IV, ims rane 1S, on Thursday; or,
; ; : oe indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,;—

P. Fle l. N dl, preyiunee, com out olf that tat Fr n. M ; 1?
rvom, and lend me thy hand to laugh a littl P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leather-jerkin, crys-

Po : WV he ist } 1] | - I I “Da gd, a9 ite-ring, puke-stocking,

P. Hen - Will € or lou rerhead \is- mooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,—
three or four score ho Lads i have s Fran. O lord. sir. who do you mean?
very base duke f humility. Si bam Pi \\ 4. your brown bastard? is your
brother to a leash? of d $ L ¢ k: for, look you, Francis, your white can-
all by their Christian names, om, D \ doublet 1 n Barbary, sir, it cannot
Franci They take ital yu ,soOmM
that thouch 1 | ity [Wal i ’ j eK r?

a co sy; and tel P [ Fi | Francis !
Ja like Falstafl Cori ? , yourogue; Dost thou not hear
ideas F d boy.—! el i
and when I am ki: f Engziand, | ( { I t! both call him; the drawer stands
all t} rood lads in E tel I call “ a yt ene pine which way lo z0. |
aw dna. avis vai d wl
a a : “ n % } vt - ' Enter Vintner.
it of.—To conclude, | am so | icrent } \ ' stand’st thou still, and hear’st such
one quarter of an hour, that I can drin! ir Look to the guests within. [ Ee. Fran. ]
tinker in his own lan ne my life. I iliMy lord, o] ir John, with half a dozen more, are
thee, Ned, thou has stimu i ! I qoor § +s ll { let them in?
wert net with me in thi tion. But, s Ned P. Hen. Let them alone a while, and then open
to sweeten which i of Ned, 1 g | ie doo! [Ea E Vint tner. | Poins!

4} ;" . | :

th is life, - : ! Poins. Anon, anon, sir.
other Engl an ee e welcome; with t h P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the
addition.—.7non, anon, sir! Score a pint ¢ bas- CS - al ne ees ' Shall we be merry?
tard in the Hal f-m * orso. But, Ned, to driv Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark
away the time till Falstaff come, I pr’ythee, do thou What cunning hate h have you made with this
stand in some ca mm, While | question my pun) ol dr we come, what’s the issue ?
drawer, to what end he gave me the sug ind| P. fien [ am now of all humours, that have
do thou never leave calling—Francis, that his tale|sh » d themselves humours, since the old days of
to me may be nothing but—anon. St p aside, and | go aman Adam, t o the pupil age of this present

twelve o’clock at n ‘idnigh c [Re-enter Francis with

I'll show thee a precedent.
Poins. Francis!
P. Hen. Thou art perfect.
Poins. Francis!

(1) Puppets (2) Three,

  

[Exu Poins. |
(3) A wencher, |

l e. | What’s o’cloc k, Francis ?
Fran. Anon, anon, str.
P. Hen. That ever this fellow should-have fewer

(4) Tapster. (5) A sweet wine.De ees

Sat he cere
a

FIRST PART OF K

 

oud

words than a parrot, and yct the son of a woman !—

His industry is—up-stairs, and down-stairs ; his clo-|

earners the pate cl ofa reckoning. Iam not yet of|
ercy’s mind, the ilotspur of the north; he that
kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a

breakfast ; washes his hands, and says to his wife,—
Fie upon this quict life! I want work.—O my
sweet Harry, cays she, how nut Ly hast thou killed
to-day ?—Give my roan horse a drench, says he;
and answers, Sone fourteen, an hour alt ry « trifle,
a trifle. I pr’ythee, call in Falstaff; Pll play Percy, |
and that damned brawn shail play dame Marte er,
his wife. ive, says the drunkard. Catt! in ribs,
call in tallow.

Enter Tals tail, Gadshill Bardolph and Peto

Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thon been 3

Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a ven-
geance too! marry, and amen !—Give mc a cup of
sack, boy.—Ere | lead this life Jong, PIL sew
nether-stocks,! and mend them, and foot them too.
A plague «fail cowards !—Give me a cup of sack,
rogue.—Is there no virtue extant ? He drinks.

r, Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a di

of butter? pitiful-he irted Titan, that melted at the
swect tale of the son! if theu didst, then behold
that compound.

Fal. You rozue, here’s lime jn this sselk t :
There is nothing but rewuery to be found in villa-

nous man: Yet a coward is worse t
sack with pbk Init; a villanous coward.—Go thy
ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood,
good manhood, be not forgot upon the fice of the
earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not
three good men unhanged in Encland; and one ot
them Is fat, and crows old: God h Ip the while!
a bad world, Isay! [I woule I Were a weaver ; |
could sing psalms, or any thir Le
cowards, I say still.

P. Hen. How now, wool-sack ?

Fal. A king’s son! If
thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all
thy subjects afore thee, like a flock of
I’}] never wear hair on my face more.
of Wales

P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what’s
the matter ?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer
and Poins there ?

Poins. Zounds, yet fat paunch, an ye call
coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal. I call thee coward! I’}] see thee damned ere
I call thee coward: but I would cive a thousand
pound,[ could run as fast as thou canst. You are
straight enough in the shoulders, vou care not who
sees your back: Call you ‘that backing of your
friends? A plague upon such backing! eive ms
them that will face me.—Give me a cup of sack.—

what mutter you?

vil .
wild reese,

You prince

me to that:

Tam arogue, if I drunk to-day.

P, Hen. 9, villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped
since thou drunk’st last.

Fal. All’s one for that. A plague of all cow-
ards, still say I. [fe drinks.

P. Hen. What's the matter ?

Fal. What's the
here have ta’en a thousand pound this mornine.

P. Hen. Where is it, c? wi is

Fal. Where is it? taken from us itis: a hun-|
dred upon four of us.

P. Hen, What, a hundred, man?

|
(1) Stockines.
(2) Atown in Westmoreland, famous for me iking g|

{

matter? there be four of us

eloth,

 f
I do not beat thee out of!

 

ING HENRY IV. Act If.

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at halfsword
with a dozen of thei two hours together. I have
’scap’d by miracle. [am cight times thrust through
the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler
cut through and through; my sword hacked like a
ihand-saw, ecc¢ signunt. ‘] never dealt better since
I was a man; all would not do. A placue of all
cowards !—Let them speak: if they speak more or
than truth, they are villains, and the sons of

sO

iCsS
)

lay yea
iaTKNCSS,

P. Hen. Speak, sirs:

i ee ’

(

how was it?

Gads . Wef Ou ir set upon some do 1ZCn =
Fal. Sixteen, at feast, 1 my lord.
Gads. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, the y were not bound.
Kul. You rogue, they were bound, every man
of them: or I ain a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
Gads, As we were sharing, some six or seven

{fresh men set upon us,——

Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in
the othey

P. Hen. V hat, fought ye with them all?

Fal, Ail? I know not what ye call, all; but if I
fought not with fifty of them, Tama bune h of ra-
dish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon

- old Jack then I am no two-legged creature.
Poins. Pray God, you have not rmertacad some

py ?

Fal. INuy, that’s past praying for: for I have
peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have
I tell thee
what, Hal,—if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call
me horse. Thou knowest my old ward ;—here I
lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in

paid ; two rogues in buckram stig

yuckram let drive at me.——~

P. Hen. What, four?

now,

thou said’st but two, even

P our, Hal; I told thee four.
Pr ou \y, ay, he said four.
Fal. The: four came all a-front, and mainly
irust af me. I made me no more ado, but took
all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Hien. Seven? why, there were but four, even
now,

al. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits,

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or Lama villain else.

P. Hen. Pry’thee, let him alone; we shall have
more anon.

Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do so, for itis worth the listening to.
nine men in buckram 1, that I told thee of, ——

P. Hen. So, two more alrea dy,

Fal. Thetr p ints being broke n,-——
Down fell thei ir hose,

] ul. Beran to give me eround: But I followed
me close, came in foot and hand ; and, with a
{ seyen of the eleven I paid,

P, Hen. (), monstrous !

of two!

tf, as the devil would have it, three mis-

erotten knaves, in Kendal? cree n, came at my

back, and let drive at me;—for it was so dark,
|, that thou could’st not see thy hand,

Pr, i fen. These lies are like the father t}

These

eleven buckram men

at be-

igets them: frToOss as a mountain, Ope n, palpable.

"hey ho: ls braine ’ z
Why, thou clay-brained guts ; thou knot ty-pated

ool; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy, ialige-
reecn,3———-. . .

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? 1s not
the truth, the truth ?

(5) A round lump of fat.Scene IV. FIRST PART OF
P. Hen. Why, how could’st thou know th
men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou
could’st not se: thy hand? come, tell us your reas
What sayt thou to this ? ;

Poins. Come, your reason

aly

k

ING HENRY IY. 395
P. Hen. Pr’ythee, do, Jack.
Fal. ’Faith, and P 11 send him packing.  [Eqait,

r
P. Hen. Now, sirs ; by’rlady , you fought fair ;—

so did you, Peto ;—so did you, Bardolph : : you are

Fal. What, up nh mpulsi mn? No ys re . : = nt true pri aaa a upon instineh i i a
the strappado, or all the rack in the w in L } ould Bi a es eb ‘i Fe
ao eraPl : u rid, ( woul Berd, ’Faith, I ran when I s saw others run.
net tell you on compulsion. Give you a r i? KP. Men. Tell Ine now In earnest, How came
on compulsion ; if reasons were as plenty 2s black-| Palstail’s sward so hacked ?
borss s, | would give no mana rcason upon com-} Peto. Vi hy, he hae ced it with his dagger; and
ulsion, I. re — _ said, he would swear truth out of E ngland but he
; f Hen. Pil be no longer cui ty of this sin: this| would ft you believe it was done in fight; and
oangni gomer’, this b i-pri » “us horse-back- | persu ch lu s to do the like.
breaker, this huge hill of flesh;—— bere. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-
fe Fal. Aw iy, you starveling, you elf-skin, you , to make therm bleed; and then to beslubber
dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s pizzle, you stock-fish,—} our ments with it, and to swear it was the blood
O, for breath to utter what | 1— you tal-| men. lUdid that I did not this seven yr
lor’s yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile, before, I blushe (| to hear his monstrous device
standin: tuck ;—— P, Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of aa
P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to it 1 years arco, and wert taken with the man-
again: and n thou hast tired 1 fin ba ,' and ever since thou hast Shu shae Sxelee
comparisons, hear me speak but Thou hadst fire and pee on thy side, and yet
Poi iss Mark, Jack. tran’st away ; What instinet hadst thou for it?
P. Hen. Wet LW Yousou ton { . VO Bard. Nis fore d» you see these meteors? do
bound them, and were masters of their 1 ith. behold these exhalations?
Mark now, how plain a tal jall put you down.— P. Hi T ck
Then did we ty 1 you | l, with Lard. \What think you they portend ?
word, out-fuced you from vou ize, and have i! . i Hot livers and cold purses.2
yea, and can show it you h in the house :—and p Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimb! P. fen. No, if rightly taken, halter.
with as quick dexterity; and roared for merey, and ‘ , :
still ran and roars 1 as ever I heard bull-calf Re-enter } alstaff
What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword ; ) ("98 Tere comes lean Jack, here comes bare bone. How
hast d me; and then say, tt was in fight! Vall now, my sweet creature of bombast ?2 How lon
trick, what device, what Larting-hole, canst thou) ist aro, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee
now lind out, to hide thee from this open and ay lal. My own knee? when I was about thy years
parent shame ag ae Hal, 1 was not an eagle’s talon in the waist ; I
Poins. Come, lIet’s hear, J What tri St) Could have crept into any alderman’s thumb- -ring:

made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: Was it for
me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon
the true prince / Why, thou knowest, | am as va-
liantas Hercules: but beware instinct ; the lion will
not touch the truc prince. Instinct Is a creat mat-
ter; | was a coward on instinct. I shall think the
better of myself and thee, during my life; I, fora
valiant Mi ym, and thou for a true But, by
the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.——
Hostess, clap to the doors: watch to-night, pray
to-morrow.—Gallants, lads boys, hearts of gold,
all the titles of good fellows! lip come to you!
What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play
extempore ?

P. Hen. Content ;—and the
thy running away.

‘Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me.

Enter Hostess.
H pst. My lord the prince t—-7-——

P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? what
say’st thou to me?

‘Host. Marry, my lord, ther
the court at door, would ioeak with you: he says,
he — from your father.

Hen. Give him as much
ro ~ man, and send him back again to my mother.
Fi i. What manner of man is he ?
Host. An old man.

prince.

]

arcument shall be,

as will make him a

Fal, What doth gravity out of his bed at m:id-

night ?—Shall I give him his answer |

(1) In the fact. (2) Drunkenness and poverty.
(3) Bombast is the sti iffing of clothes,

\ plague of ichi ng and gricf! it blows a man up
ike a bladder. There’s villanous news abroad:
ere was sir John Bracy from your father; you
must to the court in the morning. That same mad
ellow of the north, Percy ; and he of W ales, that
vave Amaimon* the bastinado, and made Lucifer
cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon
the cross of a Welsh hook,—What, a plague, call
you him ?——

Poins. O, Glendower.

Fal. Owen, Owen; the same;—and his son-in
law, Mortimer; and old Northumberland; and
that sprigh tly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs
o’horscback up a hill perpe ndicular.

P, Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with
his pistol kills a sparrow flying.

Fal. You have hit it.

P, Hen. So did he never the sparrow,
|, that rascal hath good mettle in him ;

| ‘ .
P, Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to
raise him so for running?
~ Fal, O’horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, he will
ot budge a foot.

P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

Fa!. I erant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there
too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps®
more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy
(ither’s beard is turned white with the news; you

buy land now as cheap as stinking mackarel.
P. Hen. Why then, ’tis like, if there come a hot

\

(4) A demon; who is described as one of the

four ines, who rule over all the demons in the

world.
(5) Scotsmen in blue bonnets,a ene

   

008

DS ETT NE TT LE I IT TS ae

OBC pS SYNE

—

ae

    
  
     
   
   
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
    
    
  
  
     
  

JUG

   

June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy lent ;

maidenheads as they buy hob-nai ils, by the hundred. |

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true ; it is|fift

like, we shall have sood trading that way.—But
tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard ? thou|
being heir appare nt, could the world pick thee out!
three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas,
that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Ar
thou not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill
at it?

P. Hen. Not a whit, i’faith; I lack some of thy
instinct.

Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, |

when thou comest to thy father: if thou love me,
practise an answer.

P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and ex-
amine me upon the particulars of my life.

Fal. Shall 1?
state,' this dagger my sceptre, and this cus
crown.

P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy
golden sccptre for a leaden dagger, and
cious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown!

Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out

of thee, now shalt thou be moved.—Give me a cup

'

hion my

of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may
be thought I have wept; for I must speak in pas-
sion, and I will ont a in king Cambyses’? vein,

P. Hen. Well, s my le

Fal. And here is ae ead ea aside, no-|«¢

bility.
Host. This is excellent sport, faith.
Fal. \Weep not, sweet quecn, lor t: ickhi
are Vain.
Host. O, the father, how. he holds his counte-
nance!
Fal. For God’s sake, lords, convey my
queen,

For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes.
Host. O rare! he doth it like as one of th
harlotry players, ’

fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-
brain,*—Harry, | do not only marvel where thou
spendest thy time, but also how thou art accom
panie d: for though the camomile, the more it i

‘

trodden on, the faster it erows, yet yout

it is wasted, the sooner it we: That thou a
my son, I have partly thy mother’s word, partly
my own opinion; but chiefly, a vill 1S k of
thine eve, and a foolish hanging of thy n r lin,
that doth warrant me. If then thou b. ome,
here lies the point ;—Why, being son to

thou so pointed at? Shall the | {sun
prove a micher,® and eat blackber

not to"be asked. Shall the son of England prov

a thief, and take purses? a’qu
There is a thing, \ hi
heard of, and if
the name of pite| ch, ri .
report, doth defile ; so oth the company thou
keepest: for, Harry, now I d poak to thee ii
drink, but in tears ; notin pleasure, but in passion;
not in words only, but in woes also:—And j
there is a virtuous man, whom I have often noted
in thy company, but I know not his name.

P,. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your
majesty ?

‘al. A good portly man, faith, and a corpu-

(1) Chair of state.

(2) A character in a Tragedy by
(: Obeisance.
(
(7)

Preston, 1570.

Name of a strong liquor, (6) A truant boy.

FIRST PART OF KING

Ime now, thou naught v varlet, tell me,

ri ws. ahatre ahall . my!
content:—This chair shall be my

thy pre-|
fort h om

‘aon 6 |
Less, mai SWOlLn p

in myself, were to say more than I know.
‘

much to say im the be!

(8) J
(4) Sorrowful. (9) \ leather black-};
| (

|
A young rabbit. \ (11) Go no fast

HENRY IV. Act II.
of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a
most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some
, OF, by’r lady, inclining to threescore ; and now
Il remember n 1e, his name is Falstaff: if that man
oats be lewc diy given, he deceiveth me; for, Har-
, | see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may

be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then,
peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that F al-
staff: him at with, the rest banish. And tell
where hast
thou been this month?
P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou
and for me, and I’ll play my father.
Fal. Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely,
so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me
up by the heels for ua rabbit-sucker,’ or a poulter’s
nare,

P. Hen. Well, here I am set.

Fal. And here I stand :—judge, my masters.

P. Hen. Now, Harry? whence come you?

Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
P. Hen. The complaints I hear of thee are

at
rt

Fal, Shon, my lord, they
ickle ye for a youn
P, i, iN. Swe

are false :—nay, Pll
g prince, Vfaith,
est thou, ungracious boy ? hence-
’er look on me. Thou art violently carried
iway from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in
a fat old man: a tun of man is thy
ympanion. Why dost thou converse with that
runk of humours, that bolting-hutch® of beastli-
s, that huge bom-
of guts, that
in his
iniquity, that

i¢ likeness of

parcel ol Gropsk
. |
tufied cloak | ag

oasted Manningtree'® ox with the pudding
that reverend vice, that gre,

r ruflian, that vanity in years ? Wherein is he

|, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat

c] but to carve a capon and eat it ?

c , but in craft? wherein crafty, but

Ulany? wherein villanous, but in all things?
in worthy, | in nothing ?

Fal. I would, your grace would take me with
u:!! Whom means vour crace?

P. Hen. That villanous, abominable misleader

{ vouth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.

My lord, the man [I know.

Hen. | know, thou dost.

» say, I know more ha rm in him than

That he

old (the more the pity,) his white hairs do wit-
t: bu t he ving your reverence) a

“ r. den If sack and su-
t, God help the wicked! If to be old
ind merry be a sin, then many an old host that J
now. isd mned: uf to be fat be to be hated , then
| yh’s lean kit to be loved. No, my rood
b 1 Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins:
{ t Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff,
| lalst } it Jack Falstaff, and there-
more valiant, bemg as he is, old Jack Falstafl,
. not him thy Harry’s company ; banish plump
J } | 1] Wi ld

P.: £40 I t will. |.? knocking heard,
| Exeunt Ho I’rancis l Bardolph,

Re-en 3 Inh unnine
Bard. QO, my lord, my lord; the sheriff, with a

most monstrous watch, is at the door.

Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play :
alf of that Falstaff.

I have

‘he machine which separates flour from bran,
ick to hold beer.

‘a large ox was roasted whole.

Ler than | can follow,

0) In Essex, whereHost.
Fal.
dle-stick :

Scene I.

 

FIRST PART OF

Re-enter Hostess, hastily.
O Jesu, my lord, my lord !——
Heigh, heigh! the
What's the matte

Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the
}

door:
let them in!
Fal.
pie ce
mad,

I

they are come to search the house: Shall I

>?

Dost thou hear, Hal? never
of gold, a counterfeit:
without seeming so.

’ Hen. And thou a natural coward, without

thou art essentially

instinct.

Fal. | deny your MLL? OF i you den
sherifl, so; if not, let him enter: if I become?
a cart as well as another man, a 1 1?
bringing up! I hope, I shall as n be strangl
yith a halter, as another

P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras :'—tl
rest walk up above. Now, my1 ters, for a t
lace, and 4 ror x1 conscience.

“al. B 4

Fal. soth whic h t nave but then i l
out, and therefore, [ll hide m

ereunt all | Pri :

| Eve ul but ti
P,. Hen. Call in the sheriff.——

Now, master sheriff: what's vour will with me?

She ws

| irst, pardon me, m' lord. 1 hil

Hath follow’d certain men unto this hou

P. Hen. What men?

She ys

lord,

A — fat man.

F or I myst If at
And,
a hat L will,

r, As fat as butter.
Hen. The man, | do assure you,

this time

‘

>

I will enga e my word to thee,
by t

: ‘an
ry re
snerit,

-morrow dinher-um

Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg’d withal
And so let me entreat you leave the hor
Sher. Iwill, my lord: There are two ger nen
Ilave in this robbery lost three hundred marks.
P. Hen. It may be so: if he have robb’d u
men,
He shall be answerable ; and so, farewell
Sher. Good night, my noble lord.
P. Hen. | think itis rood morrow ; Is it not?
Sher. Inde d, my lord, | think if be two o' locl

call a true

One of them is well known, my gracious

KING HENRY IV.
lwill be a

ott rides upon a fid- me be

[Erewunt Sherifl and Carrier.

307
march of twelve-score. The mone
shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with
‘times in the morning ; and so good morrow,
Poins,
Poms.

Good morrow, good my lord. [Ewxeunt.

———>-——.

ACT iil.

SCENE I.—Bangor. 4 room in the archdeacon’s
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer,
{ Glendowe
‘fort. These promises are fair, the parties sure,
{nd our induction® full of prosperous hope.
} |! Mortimer, and cousin Glendower,—
’ { 11 {-_—
ind, uncle Wore r:—A plague upon it!
i ve 10! i Lu}
Glend. No, pnereey
Sit, cousin Perey; sit, good cousin Hotspur:
r that name as Le aneaster
D peak of you, kin eh ek looks pale ; and with
\ rising 1, ti isheth you in heaven.

Hot. And you inh i, as often as he hears

r ST Ol e of.

Gl . Teannot blame him: at my nativity,
lhe front of heave nn was full of fery shapes,
Ui burning cress ts ;? é nd at my birth,

ne t huge foundation of the earth
Shak’d like a coward.

Hot. Why, so it would have done
season, if your ate s cat had

But kitten’d, though yourself had ne’er been born.

Glend,. I say, the earth did shake when I was

born.
Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind,
If vou suppose, as fearing you i shook.
Glend. The heavens were all on fire,
1!

the earth

|
did trem

Wit,
[lot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens
n fire,

{nd not in fear of your nativity.
') d nat oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth
Is with a kin d¢ f cholie pinch’d and vex’d
By th imprist ing of unruly wind
Within her womb ; which, for enl: irgement striving,

Shakes the old beldame e arth, and topples’ down
Steeples, and n oss-gr ywn towers, At your birth,

P. Hen. — oily rascal is known as well as|Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
Paul’s.? Go, call hi n forth. In passion shook.
Poins. F alet: iff!—fast asleep behind the arras Gle nd, Cousin, of many men
and snorting like a horse. I do not bear — crossings. Give me leave
S Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: Tot ll you once again,—that at my birth,
ti The front of heaven ws as full of fiery shapes ;

Search his pockets.
.

[Poins §

oe found ?

1
]
I
I

ol

th
va
co
th
ro

Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.
P. Hen. Let’s see what they be:
Poins. Item, A capon, 2s. 2d.
Sauce, 4d.

tem,

tem, Sack, two gallons, 5s. § i.

em, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. © l.
em, Bread, a halfpenny.

'

malfpenny wo
f sack !—Wh
1 it at more a
1

ry. Piltot

P. Hen. O monstrous! but one]
‘ bread to this intolerable deal o
ere is else, keep close ; we'll rea
ntage : there le t him sleep till d
urt in the morning:
r place shall be honourable.

< lang
zue a charge of foot; and, his dea

I know,

‘1) Tapestry. (2) St, Paul’s cathedral,

(3) Beginning.

«4 }

]

we must all to the wars, and
I'll procure this fat
t}

The coats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have mark’d me extraordinary ;

And all the courses of my life do show,

{ am not in the roll of common men.

Where is he living,—clipp’d in with the sea

That chides the ‘banks of England, Scotland,
Walcs.—
Which e als ¢ me pupil, or hath re ad to me ?

\nd bring him out, that is but woman’s son,
-'Can trace me in tl he tedious ways of art,
«| And hold me pace in deep experiments.
Hol. 1 think, there is no man speaks better
Welsh:——

ih

upon poles, which were used in processions, &e,
| (5) Tumbles,

(4) Lights set crossways upon beacons, and alsoac an

? Pi ha ton

ha FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV, Ret 11),

I will ty dinner. | Vor, Yea, but a little charge will trench him
Mort, Peace, cousin Percy; you wili make him| here, Pele
. mad, |And on this north side win this cape of land 4
Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. | And then he runs straight and even.
Hot. Why, so can I; of so can any man: | fot. Vilhave itso; a little charge will do it.
But will they come, when youdoc all forthem? | Glend. I will not-have it alter’d, pe
Glend. Why, I can teach you,cousin,tocommand| Tot. Will not you?
The devil. | Glend. No, nor you shall not
Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the de 1 ,| Hot. Who shall say me nay ?
By telling truth ; Tell truth, fut shame the devil.—| Glend. Why, that will I.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither r,| Hot. __ Let me not understand you then,
And I'll be sworn, Ihave p ower to shame him hence. | Speak it in Welsh.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. | Glend. J can speak ee h, lord, as well as you;
‘Moré: Come, come, or I was train’d up in th E nglish court:
No more of this unprofitable chat. Where, being but y oung I framed to the harp
Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke|Many an English ditty, Tov ly well,
nade head ' \nd wave the tonzue a he ipful ornament
Against my power: thrice from the banks of Wye, /A ae was never seen in you,
And sandy-bottom’d Severn, have I sent him, diol, Niarry, and lm ol: el of it with all my heart ;
Bootless' home, and we: ather-beaten back [ had rather bea = ‘in, and cry—mew,
Hot. Home withot ut boots, and im foul weather; [nan one of these same metre bailad- mongers :
too! { had rather hear a brazen eanstick’ turn’d,
How ’scapes he avues, in the devil’s name ? yr adry wheel « srate on an axle-tree

ict my teeth not hing on edge,
so much as mincing poe iy:
the fore’d vate of a ‘shuflling nag,
Come, vou shall have Trent turn’d.

I do not care: Pll give thrice so much land

(
Glend. Come, here's the map; Shall we divide And that would
our right, LANs
According to our three- fold order ta’en ?
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally :

 

England, from Trent and Severn hit * rto, To any well-deserving fric nd ;
By ‘south and east, is to my part : rnd: But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
All westward, Wales beyond the Ser vern shore, ‘il cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
And all the fertile land within that bound, \re the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?
To Owen Glendower :—and, dear coz, to you | Gtend. 'The moon shines fair, you may away by
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. night:
And our indentures tripartite 2 are drawn: [il haste the aren >and, withal,
Which being sealed interchan: mab y, Break? with your wives of vour de parture hence:
(A business that this ni cht may exceute ‘a lam afraid, my dai ighter will run mad,
To-morrow, cousin Perey, you, and I, » much she doteth on her Mortimer. [ Exit.
And my good lord of Wore ‘ester, will set forth, Mort, Fie: cousin Perey! how you cross my
To meet your father, and the Scottish j power,? futher !
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me
My father Glendower is not ready yet, With telling me of the moldwarp!® and the ant,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:— |Of the dreamer Merlin and his er cies ;
Within that space, [7 Glend.) you may have) And ofa dragon and a finlese fis

drawn together \ clip-wine’d grill in, and a m«¢ uilte n raven,

Your tenants, fri iends, and neighbouring gentlemen. | A couchjng Li 1, and a ramping eat,
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,! And such a deal

il of skimble-sk: amble stuff
And in my conduct shall tee ladies come: \s puls me o my faith. I tell you what,—
From whom you now must s eal, and take no le; lfe held me, but Jast night, atleast nine hours
For there will be a moet of water shed, in ree koning rup the sever: uf levils’? names,
Upon the parting of your wives and you, That were his facl keys: I cried, humph,—and
Hot. Methinks, my moie ty,‘ north from Burton well,—2o to,—
here, But mark’d him not a word. O, he’s as tedious
In quantity equals not one of yours: |As is a tired horse, a railing wife
See, how this river comes me cranking in, | Worse than a smoky house :—I had rathe r live
And cuts me, from the best of all my land, ‘With cheese and earlic, in a windmill, far,
A huge half moon, a monstrous cantles out. Than feed on cates,'! and have him talk to me,
Pil have the current in this place : aa "dup; [n any summer-house in Christendom.
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run, Mort. In faith, he is a worthy ge ntleman ;
In a new channel, (air and eve bi : Execeedingly well read, and profited
It shall not wind with such a des p indent, In stranve concealme nts ;'2 valiant asa lion,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here. j}And wond’rous affable : and as bountiful
Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must: you see, if Heh mines of India, Shall T tell you, cousin ?
doth. e hold

ds your temper in a high re spect,
Mort. Yea, And curbs himself even of his natural se ope,
But mark, how he bears his course, and runs! When you do cross his humour ; faith, he doe:s

me up [ warrant you, that man is not alive,

With like advantage on the other side - Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Gelding* the opposed continent as much, (Without the taste of danger and reproof:

As on the other side it takes from you, | But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

| Wor. In faith. my lord, you are too wilful. bl. hme;

(1) Unsuccessful. (2) Threecopies. (3) Force. |
4) Part. (5) )C pa (6) Cutting, | Break the matter, (10) Mole.
9 Candlestick, © (8) The writer of the articles. | (11). Dainties,

(12) Secrets,Seeria LU. FIRST PART OF KING HENRY iV, aug

And since your éoming hither have done enough | Hot, Now 1 perceive, the devil understands
To put him quite beside his my atience, Welsh :

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault: |And’tis no marvel, he’s 30 humerous,
Thoughsometime sitshow greatness,courage, blood, | By'r lady, he’s a root d musician

(And that’s the dearest grace it renders you, ) Lady #. ‘Then should you be nothing but mua
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage sical ; for ya are altogethe : governed by humours,
De fect of manners, want of government, Lie still, ye thie ‘ and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
Pride, | hat ightiness, Opinion, and disdain: riot. f eye ther hear Lady, my brach,* howl
Phe least of which, h: Lunting a nobleman, in Irish, tA ak

Loseth men’s hearts ; and leaves behind a stain Lady P. Would’st thou have thy head broken ?

Upon the beauty of all parts 5 besi dS, Hot. No.
Becuiling them of commendation | Lady P. Then be still.
Hot. Well, I am school’d ; good manners be; Hot. Neither; ‘tis a womans fault.
your speed ! | Lady P, Now God he Ip the e!
Here come our wives, and Iet us take our leave. | Hot. To the \ Velsh kk id) ’s bed.
Re-enter Glendower, with the Ladies. | Lady P. What's that |
Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me,— fot, Peace! she sings.
My wile can speak no English, I no Welsh. 2 Welsh SONG sung by Lady M.
Glend. My daughter Weeps; she will not part] , ;
with you ot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
She’ll be a soldier too, she’ll to the wars. | Lady. P. Not mine, in good sooth,
Mort, Good father, tell her,—that she, and my ytd t. Not yours, ii 1 good sooth! Heart, you swear
aunt Percy, : like a comfit-maker’s wife! Not you, in good sooth ;
Shall follow in your conduct! a and, As true as I live; and, As God “shall mend
[Glendower speaks to his daughter in Welsh,|™ 3 and, As sure as day:
and she answers him in the same. And giv’st such sarcenet sure ly for thy oaths,
Glend. She’s desperate here - a peevish self- as I if np su never W ale? dst further r than F insbary.*
wild lhayte try, Swear me, Ka e, like a lady, as thou art,
One no persuasion can do good upon. A go od 1 nouthefi ling oath ; and leave in ‘sooth,

[ Lady Ni SD ths lo Mortimer i Welsh. \n d such pi ‘otest ol pe] ppe re ringe rbre sad,

Mort. ] understand thy looks : that npretly We Ish r 0 vi ‘lyet “Oui irds,' and Sund i -citizens.
rhs rae’. : 7 : 1 -|Come, sing.
Which thou pourest down from these swelling ’ 5

heavens Lady P. 1 will not sine.
oS 1 , ‘ ak. TP La wt ‘nv " co J.
I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, Hot. "I is the next way to turn t: illor, or be red
In such a parley would I answer th breast teacher. An the indentures be’ drawn, Pil
~ - a Ol { ua e : a
[La ty M. », alvay within these two hours; and so come in when
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, ea ; [ Exit.
And that’s a feeling disputation: Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer ; you are as
7 at’s ; ¢ disputati aa
But I will never be a truant, love, ow,

. ie. ats As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.
Till | have learn’d thy lanwuace: for thy toncue By tl] wal da a last 1 but sal, and th
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties hi rit enn’d, »>y this our hoo! arawn > we JUL SCA ; an 1¢€nh

7 / To horse immediat ely.
Sung by a fair queen in a summer’s bower,

si, Mort ' Withall my heart. [Eze
With Saeaee Ween aes r lute.* lort. : 7 [Exe.
rlend. Nay, u melt. then will she run mad. Doe lee :
Gtene. you mel oT du Wi } c SU : i].—London. A room in the palace. En-
| wiy Yin OF CUdhS Glad i.

iit Ch Baki iamern Maal in tite Ki ing Heury, Prince of Wales, and Lords.

Glend. She bids you K.
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, Wa ona

A "pS ry y it | ai . h re lan f hil F
ee = ea : 7 a . a a th ia Must h ive yme conierence: But be near at hand,
And she will ing th oe vere ered 5 for we shail presently have need of you.—
An 1 on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep, FRvetind Ligidet

f ‘ a : leavines: Y 4 ' ‘ y
Charming y: our blood with pli — | : f ; | know not whether God will have it so,
» and sie ; ; :

Mehien suc h diflerenee ’twixt wa e ant Py For some displeasing service I have done,
As is the difference betwixt day and nicht,

. nae rive us leave; the prince of

he | ly-| dt team Phat in his secret doom out of my blood
"Than hs - : > He } . 2 rfefharnes { cA ’
[he hour before the heavenly 8 4 te Hell breed revenrement and a scourge for me ;
Begins his golden progress in the ea But thou dost in thy passages of life,

Mort. With all my heart UH sit, and hear her Make me believe, that thou art only marked
Sing: i we For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
By that time will our book,’ I think, be drawn. ‘To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else,
Glend. Do so; Could such inordinate, and low desires,
And those musicians that shall play to you, Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at-
fang in the es leagues from hence; | tempts,’
Yet str ai rht they shall be here ; sit, and attend. Such barren pleasures, rude society,
Hot. Come, Kate, thou be perfect in lying down : \s thou art match’d withal, and grafted to,
Come, quick, quic k: - that I may lay my head in thy Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
lap. And hold their level with thy princely heart ?
Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. P. Hen. So please | your majesty, I would I could
Glendower sp xeaks some Welsh words, and then the\ Quit all nee " — ee
music plays. As weil as, | am doubtless, 1 can purge

-

(4) Hound. (5) In Moorfields.
(6) Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys.
(7) Unworthy undertakings,

) Guard, escort. '
) A compliment to queen Ehz eth,
) Our paper of conditions.

I
(2
(32%) eae

e

RE OS ee CR eng
ead nen e e

   
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
     
    
   
     
    
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
    

400

Myself of many I am charg’d withal :
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis? d,—

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,—|

By smiling pick-thanks! and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander’d and irregular,

Find pardon on my true submission,

K. Hen. God pardon thee !—yet let me
Harry,

At thy aflections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flicht of all thy ancesio:
‘Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost
Which by thy younger brother is supplied ;
And art almost an alien to the hearts

Of all the court and princes of my blood :
The hope and expectation of thy time

Is rinm’d; and the soul of every m
Prophetically does fore-think thy f

Had I so lavish of my presence been,

So common-haclkney’d in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar compan
Opinion, that did help me to the cron
Had still kept loval to poss *.
And left 1 me in repu tel ; banishment
A fellow of no mark, : likeli
By being st ag en, I co 1 not
But, like a comet, Iw nd .
That men would tell their child ee
Others would say,
And then I stole all courtesy from heat
And dress’d myself in su

That I did pluck allegiance {

Loud shouts and salutations from t!
Even in the presence of the crowned
Thus did [ keep my person fresh, and n
My pevaen ike a robe ] iff
Ne er rag, ul wonder d
Seldlain,
And won, by raren eh

The skipping king, he ambled 1 nd do
With shallow jesters, and rash bavi
Soon kindled, a
Mingled his royalty with caperine fools ;

Had his great name profaned with their scorns:
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardle
Grew a companion to the common streets

Enfeoffd> himself to popularity :
That being daily swallow’d by m
They surfeited with honey: and beean

To loathe-the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occas

.

} will : ; ) }
l —

but sumptuou 10

: oe
id soon burn’d: earded his s

SS Vain comparative :*

ion to be

He was but as a cuckoo is in June, —

Heard, not regarded ; seen, but 1 such eyes,
As, sic k and blunted with community,

Afford no extraordinary raze, i.

Such as is bent on sun-lik ty

When it shines se \dor n in atin eves:
But rather drowz’d, and hune
Slept in his face, and render’d such aspéet
As cloudy men use to th

Being with his presence elutted, gore’d, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand’st tho yu:

For thou hast lost thy princely privileg«
With vile partic ipation - notaneye —
But is a-weary of thy common sight

gi ths

Save mine, which hath desir’d to see thee more

,

;
(1) Officious parasites.

(2) True to him that had then possession of the
srown,

wonder,

their eye-lids down,

‘If not,
|

FIRST PART OF KING HE

     

 

NRY IY. Act II.

| Which now doth that I would not have at do,
| Make blind itself with foolish tenderness,

P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,

Be more myself.

As thou art to this hour,

For all the world,
was Richard then

When I from France set foot at Ktavenspurg ;
(nd even as I was then, is Perey now.
Now by my sceptre, and my sou! to boot,

|
| K. Hen.
| 2

| He

hath more w orthy interest to the state,

Than thou, the shadow of succession ;

tor, of no rieht, nor colour like to right,

He doth fill fields we harness® in the re alm ;
urns head against the lion’s armed jaws ;

And, being no more in debt to years than thou,

Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,

{‘o bloody battle s, and to bruising arms.

What never-dying honour hath he got

\gainst renowned Doug las ; whose high deeds,

Wh hot incursions, and great name in arms,

Ho! from all soldiers chief majority,

ind military title capital,

‘hrouchall the kinedoms that acknowledge Christ ‘
Vhrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes
this infant warrior, in his enter prises
D miitted great Douglas: ta? en him once,
iuniarged him, and made a friend of him,

I Lune mouth of d ecp defiance up,

ind shake the peace and safet ly of our throne.
what y yi Ho this? Bei , Northumberland
i archbish p's OTac¢ York, Douglas, Mor

Limer,
ete” against us, and are up.

‘ctore do I tell these news to thee ?
Why, Hi cdo I tell thee of my foes,

\\ | near’st and dearest enemy ?
T} I t like « ) 1.—tnrough vassal. fear
B ich 10 nd the start of spleen,——

L inst me under Percy’s pay,
To d heel nd court’sy at his frowns,

l much d nerate thou art.

P. Hen. Do not think si , You shall not find it so
And God forgive them, that have so much sway’d
your majesty’s good thoughts away from me! >
Iw ill red em all this On Perey’s he ad,

And, in the closine
» bold Lo te]
When I

And stain my

>

\ ‘

r every honour sitting

t this same

r of some glorious day,
| you, that Lam your son ;
will wear a garment all of blood,
favours in a bloody mask,

ich, wash’d away, shall scour my shame with it.

that shail wi the dav, whene’er it lights,
child of honour and re nown,
rillant Ho ispur, this all-praised knik cht,
your unthought-of Harry, chance to ‘meet :
on his helm,
cy were multitudes ; and on my head
es redoubled! for the time will come,
1 shal! make this northern ¥o uth exchange
ee deeds i. my indionities.
is but my factor, wood n 1¥ lord,
ross up ¢ alae die is deeds on my be half;
it will call him to so strict account,

i

That shall rend. r every glory up,

Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or |] } writ 4 r the reckoning from his heart.
This, it ae name of red, I promise here :
The which if he be plea

I do beseech your nxaleste, may sal

The

3)
>») Armour,

lI shall pe rform,
ve
e-grown wounds of my inte mperance ;

the end of life cancels all bands ;°

(4) Rival. (5) Possessed,
(7) Combine, (8) Most fatal,

» lon: ;

Brushwood.

Bonds,FIRST PART
die a pane ] th au
Ere bre ak the smalle

A hundr« dt ne anand re
Thou shalt have charge, ands

rit w t jive out of al

my oO yath should | be, B:

When thou ran’st up Gads-hill int
if I did not think

(2) Intellic« nce,

 

  
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
   
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
    
 
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  

ly. A0l

1g Jatuus, or a ballof * ildfire, there's no pur-
ein money. O, tho u art a perpetual triumph,

ing bonf fre -light! Thou hast saved me
d ks in links and torches, walking
in the nicht, betwixt tavern and tavern :

‘k that thou hast drunk me, would have
ht me lights as good cheap, at the dearest
tandier’s in Europe. I have maintained that
amander of yours with fire, any time this two
rity years; Heaven reward me for it!
>biood, L would my face were in your

God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be

Hostess.

ioe the hen ?® have you in-
, who pick’d my pocket ?
Why, sir Sohn! what do you think, sir
ink I keep thieves in my house? I
d, L have inquired, so has my husband,
man, boy | r b ry» servant by servant: the
. bair was never lost in my house before.
ie, hostess ; Bardolph was shaved, and
ir: and Pll be sworn, my pocket was
: Go to, you are a woman, go.
t. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called
own house before.
G , | know you well enough.
‘John; you do not know me, sir

i know you, sir John: you owe me money,
| now you pick a quarrel to beguile me
ht you a doz zen of shirts to your back.
is, fillhy dowlas: I have given them

’ wives, and they have made bolters
Now, asI am a true woman, holland of

in ell. You owe money here besides

ior your diet, and by drinkings, an
you, four and twenty pound.
t his part of it; let him pay.
’ alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.

! poor . look upon his face; W hat call

hem coin his nose, let them coin his

[’ t paya denier. What, will you make
ne? shall as take mine ease in mine
I shall have pocket picked ? I have

rin of ay otk ndfather’s, worth forty

O Jesu! [have heard the prince tell him,
how oft, that that ne was copper.

the prince is a Jack,’ a sneak-cup ;
if he were here, I would cudgel him like a
( he would say so.

Prince Henry and Poins, marching. Fale
els the Prince, playing on his truncheon

Llow now, lad? is the wind in that door,
must we all march?

Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.

t. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly ?
loes thy husband ? I love him well, he is an

{. Good my lord, hear me.
Pr’ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack?
!. The other night I fell asleep here behind
rras, and had my pocket picked : this house,

}) In the story-book of Reynard the Fox.
(7) A term of contempt frequently used by

iShakspeare,

SEDe ets

Sea Lt eee ee

402 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. Act 1P.

Ag
ts turned bawdy-house, they pick Bornes. | poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? Thot
P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack? seek I have more flesh than another man; and
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four |therefore more frailty.——You confess then, you
bonds of forty pound a-piece, "and a seal- ring of my| | pic ked my pocket ?

grandfather’s. P. Hen. It appears so by the story.
P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. | Fal. Hostess, | forgive thee: Go, make ready
Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I|breakfast ; love thy husband, look to thy servants,
heard your grace i! so: And, my lord, he s peaks | ‘cherish thy gues sts: thon shalt find me tractable to
i

most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man o he/any honest reason: thou seest, lam pacified.—Still?

.s; and said, he would cudgel you. |\— Nay, pr’ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now,
P. Hen. What! he did not ? |Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad,—
Host, There’s neither faith, truth, nor woman- How is cape mierere d?

nood in me else, | P. Hen, my sweet beef, I must still be good

P. Hen. There’s no more faith in thee than in a|ange I to tne :—The money is paid back again.
stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, thanin| al. O, I do not like that paying back, "tis a
a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian'|double labour.
may be the deputy’ s wife of the ward to thee. Go,| P. Hen. lam good friends with my father, and
you thing, go. /may do any thine
Host. Say, what thing? what thing? | Kal. Rob me the exche ‘quer the first thing thou
Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. |doest, and do it with unwi ished hands too.
Host. I am no thing to th: ink God on, I would| Bard. Do, my lord.

thou should’st know it ; Iam an honest man’s wife | P. Hen. 1 have procured thee, Jack, a charge
and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave|of foot.
to call me so. | Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall
Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a/I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of
beast to say otherwise. ithe age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am
Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou ? |heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for
Fal, What beast ? why, an otter. ithese rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I
P. Hen. An otter, sir John? why an otter ? laud them, I praise them,
Fal. Why? she’s neither fish, nor flesh; aman} P. Hen. Bardolph——
knows not where to have her. | Bard. My lord.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; | P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of
thou or any man knows where to have me, thou! Lancaster,
knave thou! | My brother John ; this to my lord of Westmore-
P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess ; and he slan-| land.—
ders thee most grossly. |Go, Poins, to horse, to horse ; for thou, and I,
Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this! | Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time.——
other day, you ought him a thousand pound. Jack,
P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you athousand pound ?| Meet me to morrow i’the Temple hall,
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love| At two o’clock ’the afternoo
is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. There shalt thou know thy charge; and there
Host. Nay, my ‘lord, he called you Jack, and receive
said, he would cudgel you. Money, and order for their furniture.
Fal. Did I, Bardolph? . 'The land is burning ; Percy stands on high;
Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so, And either they, or we, must lower lie.
Fal. Yea: if he s said, my ring was copper. | [Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph.
P. Hen, I say, ’tis copper: Darest thou be as| Fal. Rare words! brave world !——Hbostess,
good as thy word now ? my breakfast, come :—

Fal, Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but)9, I could wish, tlis tavern were my drum. [Ezit.
man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee,}

as I fear the roaring of the lion’s whelp. —~adiiiek

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: | AQT IV
Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ? '
nay, an I 9, , 1 pray God, my girdle break ! ‘OR MR -

_ .,|SCENE I.—The rebel camp, near Shrewsb
; ai i ury.
P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall Enter Hotspur, W orcester, pas Douglas.

about thy kote But, sirrah, there’s no room for|
faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine: it! Hot.Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth,
is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an|In this fine age, were not thought flattery,

honest woman with picking thy pocket! W . y, thou | Such attr ibution should the Dou; glas? have e,
whoresnn, impudent, embossed? rascal, ‘there| As not a soldier of this season’s st: amp

were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-rec koniiee:|Should go so general current through the world
memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor|By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy*
penny-worth of sugar-candy, to make thee long-|The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place
winded ; if thy pocket were enriched with any|In my heart’s love, hath no man than yourself:
other injuries but these, I ama viliain. And yet|Nav, task me to the word ; approve me, lord.

you will stand toit; you ‘will not pocket up wrong: | Doug. Thou art the king of honour :

Art thou not ashamed ? ' [No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
Fal, Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou knowest, in the| But I will beard* him.

state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should} Hot. Do so, and tis well :—

(1) A man dressed like a woman, who attends
morris-dancers,

(2) Swoln, puffy,

(3) This expression is applied by way of pre-
eminence to the head of the Douglas family.
(4) Disdain, (5) Meet him face to face,Scene J.

mn sa ‘ .
inier @ Messenger, with letters,
What letters hast thou there ?—I can but thank you
Jess. "I hese letters come from \ our father, —
Hot. Letters {rom |

a

my

al
justling time? Who | ; nis power ?!
* fovernment come thev alone ?

His Jetters bear his mind,

Hot. Zounds! how has he the |

ne

FIRST PART OF KING HENKY Ly.

yt come, my lord; he’s erievous|

isure to be siclx,

not I, my lord.

Hot. You strain too far.
I, rather, of his absence make this use —
I

}
| t lends a lustre, and more great opinion,

him! why comes he not him- A larger dare to our great enterprise,
I

| Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head

To push against the kinedom: with his help,

| We shall o’erturn it topsy-turvy down.—

Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.

| Doug. As heart can think: there is not such a

word

Wor. 1 pr’ythee, tell me, doth he ke p his bed ?/5poke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.

Wess. He did, my lord. four days ere I set forth:

And at the time « { mv departure

Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

it thence, |
He\was much fear’d by his physicians. | Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul.
Wor. 1 would, the state of time had first be: n| Fer. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome,
whole, lord. ;
Ere he by sickness had b n visited :

i : I er W th than now.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! th

|
infect

rhe very life-blood of our enterprise ;

*Tis catching hither, even to our c DD, aeons

He writes me hi re,—that inward sickness—

And that his friends by deputation could not

So soon be drawn: nor did he think it meet,

To lay so dangerous and dear a trust

On any sou! re ini wd, but on his own.

Yet doth he give us bold advertisem: nt,—

That with our sme!! conjunction, wi should on,

To see how fortune is dispos’d to us:

For, as he writes, there is no quailing? now ;

Because tne king is certainly possess’d

Qf all our purposes. What say you to it?

Wy v. \ uria her’s Sik Kile Mali tO us,
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp’d off:—

f

And yet, in faith, ’tis not: his present want
Seems more than we shall find it:—Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states

All at one cast? to set so rich a main

On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?

It were not good: for therein should we read

The very + ottom and the soul of h pe ;

The very list,* Lh vi ry ulmost pound
Or all our tortunes
. . *.% J y ~
Dou Pr | ain, 2nd sO We snould ;

Where* now remains a sweet reversion:

We may boldly spend upon the hope of what

Is to come in:

A comfort of retirement live? in thi
Hol. A rendezvous, a home to fly unt

If that the devil and mischance look bie

Upon the maidenhead of our ali urs.
Wor. But yet, I would your father had been

here.

The cualitv and hair® of our attempt

Brooks no division: It wiil be thourht

By some, that know not why he Is away

That wisdom, loyalty, and mere di :

Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence;

And think, how such an apprehe nsion

May turn the tide of fearful faction,

And breed a kind of question in our cause

For. well you know, we of the offering side

Must keep aloof from strict arbitre ment .

And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence

The eve of reason may pry in upon us:
This al "S
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear

Before not dreamt of.

% . 1 4 SS d tase
ysence of vour father’s Craws a curtain,

(1) Forces. (2) Languishing. (3) Informed.
1) J

ine. (5) Whereas.
lexion, the character,

ic comp

at | }
iis Sickness dotn

|The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
|Is marching hitherwards ; with him, prince John,

| Hot. No harm: What more?

Fir And further, I have learn’d,—
| The king himself in person is set forth,

Or hitherwards intended speedily,

| With strong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He shall be weleome too. Where is his son,
Uhe nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales,
ind
\ 1

i
: ‘tc. :
his comrades, that daff’d’ the world aside,
bid it pass ?
| Ver. All furnish’d, all in arms,
|All plum’d like estridges* that wing the wind ;
| Bated like eagles having lately bath’d ;?
Glittering in golden coats, like images ;
| As full of spirit as the month of May,
'And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer ;
| Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
[ saw young Harry,—with his beaver on,

His cuisses!? on his thighs, gallantly arm’d,—
Kise from the ground like feather’d Mercury
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,

\s if an angel dropp’d down from the clouds,

‘To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

And witeh'! the world with noble horsemanship.
| Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun
in March,

This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come;
They come like sacrifices in their trim,

And to the fire-ey’d maid of smoky war,

’

‘All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them:

The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,

Up to the ears in blood. Tam on fire,

To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,

And yet not ours:—Come, Ict me take my horse,

Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt,

Acainst the bosom of the prince of Wales:

Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,

Meet, and ne’er part, till one drop down a corse.—

O, that Glendower were come!

Ver. There is more news:

[ learn’d in Worcester, as I rode along,

[le cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a one sound.
Hot, What may the king’s whole battle reach

unto ?
Ver. To thirty thousand.
Hot. Forty let it be;

My father and Glendower being both away,

‘The powers of us may serve so great a day.

Come, let us make a muster speedily :

Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

(7) Threw off. (8) Dressed with ostrich feathers,
(9) Fresh as birds just washed. (10) Armour,
(11) Bewitch, charm,

403Se oe

ee ets

|
|
}

 

44 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. Met IV.

Doug: Talk not of dying; I am out of fear ‘theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me,
Of death, or death’s hand, for this one half year. Jack; whose fellows are these that come after ?
[Exeunt.| Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

d P. Hen. did never see such pitiful rascals.
SCENE II.—A public road near Coventry. Enter) Fry) Put tut; good enough to toss; food for
Falstaff and Bardolph, powder, food for powder; they’ll fill a pit, as well

Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march| West. Ay, but, sir se methinks they are ex-

through; we’ll to Sutton-Colfield to-night. ceeding poor and bi ire; too beggarly.
Bard. Wil you give me money, captain ? Fal. Faith, for their pove rty,—I know not wheré
Ful. Lay out, lay out. they had that: and for their bareness,—I am surc,
Bard. This bottle m: ahs an angel. they never learned that of me.

Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if; P. Hen. No, Pll be sworn; unless you call
it make twenty, take them all, Pll answer the coin-| three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make
age. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the) haste; Percy is already in the field.
town’s end. — Fal. What, is the king encamped ?

i
Bard. 1 will, captain: farewell. [Exit.| West. He is, sir John; I fear, we shall stay too

Fal. If 1 be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am) long.
a souced gurnet.'! I have misused the king’s press! fal. Well,
damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred) To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a
and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd poveds, feast
I press me none but good householders, yeomen’s| Fits a dull fighte r, and a keen guest. | Exeunt.
sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as

hh CIE 7” Th >y } é “LIN Lear S Lrews .

had been asked twice on the banns; such a com-|’ ea 4 i ; W a rf D. a a vee
e . .1 py Ternmy “PTs ir ‘ “7c a i

modity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devi]) 7°" **OPUr, vvOorcester, Mougms, nd yer

as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver,?) "°"-

worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I} J7ot. We’ll fight with him to-night.

pressed me none but such toasts and but ter, with| Wor. It may not be.
hearts in their bellies no bigger than pin’s heads, Doug. You give him then advantage.

and they have bought out their services; and now Ver. Not a whit.
my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals,| lot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as rag-| Ver. So do we.

ged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the| Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful.
glutton’s dogs licked his sores: and such as, in- Wor. Good cousin, be advis’d; stir not to-night.
deed, were never soldiers; but discarded unjust} Ver. Do not, my lord.

serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, re- Doug. You do not counsel well ;
volted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers| You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.

of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times mor Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient :5| (And I dar cl} maintain it with my life,)

and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that/If well-respected honour bid me on,
have bought out their services, that you would think, |I hold as little counsel with weak fear
that I had a hundred and ~ tattered prodigals,|As you my lord, or any Scot that lives
lately come from swine-kecping, from eating draff| Let it be seen tote rrow in the battle
and husks. A mad fellow te me on the way, and| Which of us fears.

told me, I had unloaded all the ¢ ibbe Ls, and press¢ ad Douce. Ye a, or to-nicht.

the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-| Ver. Content.
crows. Ill not march throu eh Coventry withthem,| lot. To-night, say I.

that’s flat:—Nay, and the villains march wide be- V er. Come, come, it may not be.

twixt the legs, as if they } ah gyves* on; for, indeed, || gee much, being men of such great leading,®
I had the most of them out at pista, There’s but ane you foresee not what impediments

a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the half-| Drag back our expedition: Certain horse

shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and throws Of my cousin Vernon’s are not yet come up:

over the shoulders, like a herald’s coat without! Your uncle Worcester’s horse came but to-day ;
sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from} And now their pride and mettle is asleep

my host at Saint Alban’s, or the red-nose inn-|Th ir courage with hard labore ime and dull

keeper of Daintry.* But that’s all one; they'll fir id | That not a horse is half the half himself,
Jinen enough on every hedge. i t. So are the horses of the enemy
lin reneral, journey-bated, and brought low -
, a 5 : Rs } ~— oan A tats | aon ee ‘ ae ae} es a8 U ;
Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland. IThe better part of ours is full of rest.
P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt? Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours :

Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? what a |For God’s sake, cousin, stay till all come in.
devil dost thou in Warwickshire 7?—My cood lord}
of Westmoreland, I ery you mercy ; | thor ieht your | F ‘ s
honour had already been at Shrews bury. | Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

West. Faith, sir John, ’tis more than time that| Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king,
I were there, and you too ; but my powers are|If you vouchsafe me he: aring, and respect
there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for} Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt

[Zhe trumpet sounds a parley,

: And *would

us all; we must away all night. to God,
Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant as a} You were of our determination !
cat to steal cream. Some of us love you well: and even those some

P. Hen, I think, to steal cream, indeed; for thy) Envy your great deserving, and good name ;

| Because you are not of our quality,"
ti} A fish. (2) A gun, (8) Standard,
4) Fetters, (5) Daventry, (6) Conduct, experience, (7) Fellowship,Scene IV. FIRST PART Of

But stand against us like an ene my.

Blunt. And God defend, but still I should! Blunt.

stand sO,
So long as, out of limit, and true rule
You st and ¢ against anointed m: ijesty e
But, to my c harge.—The king hath sent to know
The nature of your r erie is ;} and whereupon
You conjure fi ‘om the.breast of civil peace
Such bold | lostility, Leaching this duteous land
Audacious cruelty: If that the king
Have any way your cood * serts forgot,—
Which he confesseth to be nanifold,—
He bids you name your grit i and, with all aod
y ou shal] have vi our de sir eS, with sti rest :
And parc di n absolute for yours: If, and these,
Herein misled by your suggestion,

t
i

,

flot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the

King
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father, and my uncle, and myself, F
Did cive him that same royalty he wears :
And,—when he was not six and twenty strong,
Sick in the world’s regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,—
Mw fathe r gave him Wwe leome to the shore ;
And,—when he }
He came but to be duke of Lancaste:

,
To sue his livery,? and bee his peace -
With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal.—
My father, in kind heart a: i pily m a,
Swore him assistancs , and ne rform a It Loo.
Now, when the lords, and barons of alm,
Pereciv’d Northumberland did Jean to him
The more and less? came in with e Lp and fen e;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages :
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts befo him, ifler’d him their oath .
Gave him their h irs: Ss pages! Nlow’d him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
Hh pre S¢ ntiy.— Lis oT LLness | now ise 1 ane
Steps me a little hicher than his vow
NI i to my i } — while hi blood was p or,
Upon the nal shore Ravensp ;
And now. fi Oth. tal n him to reform
Home er In eal . i SOme« ! decrees,
7 le too heavy ont comme LiLn
Cries out upon abuse Ss, seems to weep
Over his country’s wrongs; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further; cut me off the heads

Of all the favourites, that the absent lung
t

tenntation left behind him here
In deputation left beHind him here,

When he was personal in the Irish war.

Blint. Tut, I came not to hear this.

Hot. Then, to the point.——
In short time afler, he depos’d the kir
Soon after that, depriv’d him of his life ;

And, in the neck of that, task’d the whole state :
To make that worse, suffer’d his kinsman, March,
(Who is, if every owner were well place’d,
Indeed his king,) to be incag’d in Wale
There without ra m to lie forfeited :
Disgrac’d me in my happy victories ;
Sought to eure me by intelligence ;
Rated my unc from the council-board ;
In rage Stamios sd my father from the court;
Stroke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong:
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out

This head of safety ; and, withal, to pry

Into his title, the which we find

ris

(2) The delivery of his lands.

(1) Grievances.
(4) Letter,

(3) The greater ard the less,

~*

rd him swear, and vow to God,

KING HENRY IY. 405

Too indirect for long continuance.
Shall I return this answer to the kin
Hot. Notso, sir Walter ; we'll withdraw aw ile
|Go to the king; and let there be i impawn’d
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
[Bring him our purposes: and so farewell.
Blunt. i would you would accept of grace and
Ove,
| Tot. And, may be, so we shall.
| Blunt. Pray heaven, you do!
l sar ENE IV.—York. A room in the archbisho 4
none Enter the Archbishop of York, an

entleman.

a mised good sir Michael; bear this sealed
rie
With winged he iste, to the lord mareshal ;
|This to my cousin Se roop; and all the rest
To whom they are directed : if you knew
How much they do import, you would make haste.
Gent. My good lord,
I guess their tenor.
rch. Like enough you do.
To-morrow, good sir Michael, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch: For, sir, at Shrewsbury,
As l am truly given to understand,
The king, with mighty and quick- raised power,
\icets with lord Harry: and 1 fear, sir Michael,—
What with the sickness of Northumberland,

V\ a power vee in the first proportion, )

And what with Owen Glendower’s : absenee, thence,

(Who with them was a rated sinew too,

\nd comes not in, o’er-rul’d by prophecies, )—
| fear, the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.
Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear;
there’s Douglas,
And Mortimer.
Arch. No, Mortimer’s not there.
Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry
Percy,
And there’s my lord of Worceste r; anda head

‘eallant warriors, noble gentle men.

Jirch. And so there is: but yet the king hath

drawn
The special head of all the land together ;—
Che prince of Wales, pon John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt ;
(nd many more cor-rivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.

Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well

oppos’d,

Irch. I hope no less, yet needful ’tis to fear ,
And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed:
lor, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king
Dismiss his power, he means to visit us,;—

For he hath heard of our confederacy,—
And ’tis but wisdom to make strong against him ;
Therefore, make haste; I must go write again
'To other friends ; and so farewell, sir Michael.
| Exe. severally.

—<f>—
ACT V.

ISCENE I.—The king’s come near Shrewsbury.
Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Prince John
of Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, and Sir John
Falstaff.

K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer

(5) A strength on which we reckoned,ene es

ae ae

aSaRERS No

 

 

 
 

SpA FOAM

406 FIRST PART OF

Above yon busky! hill! the day looks pale
At his distemperature.

P. Hen. The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ;
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering diy.

KING HENRY IV. Act Ve
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith andtroth |
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articu
lated,*
|Proclaim’d at market-crosses, read in churches ;

A

K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize ;|'To face the garment of rebellion

For nothing can seem foul to those that win.—
Trumpet. Enter Worcester and Yernon.

How now, my lord of Worcester ? ’tis not well,

That you and I should meet upon such terms

As now we meet: You have deceiv’d our trust ;

And made us doff? our easy robes of peace,

To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:

This is not well, my lord, thigis not well.

What say you to’t? will you again unknil

This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ?!

And move in that obedient orb again,

Where you did give a fair and natural light ;

And be no more an exhal’d meteor,

A prodigy of fear, and a portent

Of broached mischief to the unborn times /
Wor. Hear me, my lege:

For mine own part, I could be well content

To entertain the lag-end of my li!

With quiet hours; for, I do protest,

I have not sought the day of this dislike.

ve

| With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changzelings, and poor discontents,

| Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news

}Of hurly-burly innovation :

| And never yet did insurrection want

Such water-colours, to impaint his cause ;

| Nor moody beggars, starving for a time

|Of pell-mell havoe and confusion.

| #. Hen. Ip both our armies, there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,

If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
‘Che prince of Wales doth join with all the world
[In praise of Henry Perey; By my hopes,—
| This present enterprise set off his head,—

I do not think, a braver gentleman,

|More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
|More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
‘To erace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
iI have a truant been to chivalry ;

'And so, I hear, he doth account me too:

K. Hen. You have not sought for it! how comes| ¥ct this before my father’s majesty,—

it then ?

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

P. Hen. Peace, chewet,* peace.

\1 am content, that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation ;
| And will, to save the blood on either side,

Wor. It pleas’d your majesty, to turn your looks! Try fortune with him in a single fight.

Of favour, from myself, and all our house ;
And yet, | must remember you, my lord,

We were the first and dearest of your friends.
For you, my staff of office did I break

In Richard's time ; and posted day and nig
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.

It was myself, my brother, and his son,

That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time: You swore to us,—
And you did swear that oath at Doneaster,—
That you did nothing purpose ’gainst the state ;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall’n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster :

To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
It rain’d down fortune showering on your head ;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you,—
What with our help ; what with the absent king
What with the injuries of a wanton time ;

The seeming sufferances that you had borne ;
And the contrarious winds, that held the king
So long in his unlucky Irish wars,

That all in England did repute him dead,—
And, from this swarm of fair advantages,

You took occasion to be quickly woo’d

To gripe the general sway into your hand:
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;

And, being fed by us, you us’d us so

As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo’s bird,

Useth the sparrow: did oppress our nest ;
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,

lyf

k. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we ven
ture thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite
Do make against it: —No, good Worcester, no,
| We love our people well; even those we love,
'That are misled upon your cousin’s part:
|And, will they take the offer of our grace,
| Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man,
Shall be my friend again, and Pll be his:
|So tell your cousin, and bring me word
| What he will do:—But if he will not yield,
‘Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
| And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
| We will not now be troubled with reply:
| We offer fair, take it advisedly,
| [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon.

P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life:
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
; |Are confident against the world in arms.
K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his
charge ;
|For, on their answer, will we set on them:
And God befriend us, as our cause is just!
[Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John.
Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and
bestride me, so; *tis a point of friendship.
P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that
friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell.
Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.
P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Evit.
Fal. ’Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay
him before his day. What need I be so forward

r

 

 

That even our love durst not come near your sight,| with him that calls not on me? Well, ’tis no mat-

For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enfore’d, for safety sake, to fly ‘
Out of your sight, and raise this present head:
Whereby we stand opposed by such means

As you yourself have forg’d against yourself;

(2) Put off.

(1) Woody.
A chattering bird, a pie

(3

ter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour
prick me off when I come on? how then? Can
honour set toaleg? No. Oran arm? No. Or
take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour
hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour?
A word. What is in that word, honour? What is

(4) Exhibited in articles.Scene IU, III. FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 407

that honour? Air. A trim reckoning !—Who hath! Did hear
it? He that died o’ Wednesday. Doth he feel it ?| Unless
No, Doth he hear it? No. Ys it insensible then ?|
Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the

ving? ) "hy ? ‘trartinar <1 en Ce rev . ° *
living? N o. Why? Detraction will not suffer it:—|'frimm’d up your praises with a princely tongue ;
therefore I’\t none of it: Honour is a mere scutch-

01 Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ;
eon,’ and so ends my catechism, |£wit.| Making you ever better than his praise,
SCENE I.~The rebel comp. Enter. Woreexicr! BY still dispraising praise, valued with you :
| And, which became him like a prince indeed,
| He made a blushing cital? of himself;
Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir| 4nd chid his truant youth with such a grace,
Richard, ~ | As if he master’d there a double spirit,
The liberal kind offer of the kine. ‘Of teaching, and of learning, instantly.
Ver. ’T were best he did. There did he pause: But let me tell the world,—
W or. Then.«are we all undone, |! he outlive the envy of this day,
It is not possible, it cannot be. England did never owe* so sweet a hope,
The king should keep his word in lovine us - much misconstrued in his wantonness.
ine. | Hot. Cousin, I think, thou art enamour’d
y° i {
; |

a challenge urg’d moré modestly,
a brother should a brother dare

T’o gentle exercise and proof of arms.

He gave you all the duties of a man;

and Yernon.

iso

He will suspect us still, and find at OMS :

To punish this offence in other faults: pon his follies ; never did I hear

Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes: any prince, so wild, at liberty :—

For treason is but trusted like the fox - but, be he as he will, yet once ere night

Who, ne’er so tame, so cherish’d, and lock’d up, I ve ll embrace him with a soldier’s arm,

Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. | Phat he shall shrink under my courtesy.—

Look how we can, or sad, or merrily, [Arm, arm, “_ speed :——And, fellows, soldiers,
friends,

Interpretation will misquote our looks : os :
| Better consider what you have to do,

|
(
I

And we sh ill fe do dike OXeN at a St il]

The better cherish’d, still the nearer death. | Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
My nephew’s trespass may be well forgot. ‘Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

t hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood: | ’

It hath ¢ f cel of youth, nd | at of blood: Enter a Messenger.
And an adopt d name of priviic gt

A hair-brain’d Hotspur, sovern’d by a spleen: | Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
All his offences live upon my head. ~ Hot. I cannot read them now.—

And on his father’s :—we did train him on: O gentlemen, the time of life is short ;
And, his corruption being ta’en from us. 'o spend that shortness basely, were too long,
We. as the spring of all. shall nay for all If life did ride upon a dial’s point,

, aa Rae i : : pl . ‘ - Rbeaa } : ' aa .

Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
In any case. the offer of the king. \n if we live, we live to tread on kings ;

Ver. Deliver what you will. Pll say, ’tis so. If die, brave death, when princes die with us !
Sere comes Your cousin ' Now for our conscience,—the arms are fair,

cre Coilm i ‘ | ' . ‘

‘ When the intent of bearing them is just.
“nter fenur and ‘ rlas: and officers and
cal TS eee ae pe er ies Enter another Messenger.

Hot. My uncle is return’d::—Deliver up | Mess. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on apace.
My lord of Westmoreland.—Uncle, what news? |. et. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
~ Wor. The king will bid you battle presently. |For 1 profess not talking ; ony this—

Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland. (Let each — do his best : as here draw I

Hot. Lord Doug! 1s. go you and tell him so. \ sword, whose temper I intend to stain

Dour, Marre. and shall. and very willincly. | With the best blood that I can meet withal
Doug. Marry, 2nd shall, ; | Exit, |1n the adyenture of this perilous day.

.  |Now,—Esperance ! *—Percy !—and set on.
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
Brae Ete Ulin tacitly of dos arlevauces And by that music let us all embrace :

Tee a ee ee ee Phar For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus,— A second time do such a courtesy,

sy r for ‘aring that he i forsworn : on :

3y now forswearing that he # | opts

He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge [The — sound, They embrace,
rh cade Fito thd exeunt. |

With haughty arms this hateful name in us, ane
: SCENE III.—Plain near Shrewsbury. Execur-
: | sions, and parties fighting. Alarum to the bat-
Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for [ have) yp “Then enter Douglas and Blunt, meeting.
ee ‘
A brave ee in king Henry’s teeth, Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus
And Westmoreland, that was engag’d, did bear it; Thou crossest me ? what honour dost thou seek
Which cannot choose hut bring him quickly on. Upon my head ? , rt} 5 is D las :
Wor. The prince of Wales stepp’d forth before Dou. Know then, my name is Douglas ;
he king, And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,
And, nephew, challeng’d you to single ficht. Because eats h =e thou art a king.
Hot. O, ’would the quarrel lay upon our heads;| Blunt. They oy ae os ie
And that no man might draw Meese ro | Doug. sare 0 afford dear to-day ha
} ant arry Monmouth! Tell me, tellme, | g 3 i
ete ae 4 his tasking ? seemed it in contempt? Thy likeness ; for, instead of — eee a
Ver. No, by soul; I never in my life (This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee,
apne ‘Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
|

Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king.
Het. Did you beg any? God forbid!

Re-enter Douclas.

(4) The motto of the Percy family.

(1) Painted heraldry in funerals.
(2) Recital. (3) Own,Shee

Hi 408
:
torre
tae t
f ;

Blunt. I was not born a yielder,
And thou shalt find a king

2 He aa Lord Stafford’s death.

a bas [They fight, an
4 sit Enter Hotspur.
j f Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou

don thus,
I never had tridmph’d upon a
Doug. All’s done, all’s won
lies te king.
Hot. Where ?
Doug. Here.

C

’

need teed iets mn

K. Hen.

3)

I pr’ythee,

In resemblance

FikDS

r1,,
d Blu

foucht

Ut

ru/iivt

that will reven¢

at H

scot a

} roa hreath
mere wViIe. Linke :

KING

thou pl aud grate

nf slain.

1
Olmc- |

|
‘
i Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know this f full
t we tl :
i A gallant knight he was, his name 5 nt :
Se smblably" furnish’d like the kine him
i Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither i
i A borrow’d title hast thou bought! deat
|} Why dids :t thou tell me that thou wert a king?
H Hot. The king hath many marchin: his coats
ti Doug. Now, by my swo (, will kill all his coa
i Pil murder all his wardre ei ce by
‘ Until I meet the king.
Hy Hot. Up, and av .
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the d | wu
i Other alarums. Enter Fal
f Fal. Though I could ’seape shot London.
I fear the shot here ; here’s no scori
: pate. —Soll who art thou? Sir!
. there’s wales u for you: Here’ |
( as hot as molten lead, and as heas
i lead out of me: need no more {
A own bowels. wi have led my!
Bry (aa they are peppered: there’s b
and fifty left « live 5 and they
to beg during lif But who «
Enter Prince H
P. Hen. What, stand’st thou idl &
thy sword:
Many a ni »bleman lies tack and stiff.
Under the hoofs of vaunting e:
Whose deaths are unreveng’d: Pr’:
i sword.
i Fal. O Hal, I pr’ythee, give me leaye !
i a while.—Turk Gregory never did n
arms, as I have done this day. ! re
I have made him sure,
q P. Hen. He is, indeed; and living to kill 1
Lend me thy sword, I pr’ythe
Fal. Na be fore God, Hal, il Re cy | lin :
thou gel’ a not my sword; but take m ol, il
thou wilt.
rs Hen. Give it me: What, is it in
Fal. Ay, Hal; tis hot, ’tis } yt: t il
sack a city.
' [The Prince draws ¢
P. Hen. What, is’t a time to je
, Throws tt rt
Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I
he do come in my way, so: if | i L
in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado? of
I like not such grinning honour ir \
te Give me life: which if can say
honour comes unlooked for, « nd th eng
nie i :
if SCENE IV.—Anoiher part of the field. 4
ik Excursions. Enter the Kine, Prin
Prince John, and Westmo

A piece of meat cut crosswise for the gridiron.

    

 

HENKY iY. Act V.

Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed’st too much :—
|Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Hen. 1 do beseech your majesty, make up,
|Lest your retirement do amaze your friends,

|

;

ieee ¢
Ee

|

|

Hen. 1 will do so:—
My lord d of f Westmore ‘land, lead him to his tent.
West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent,
P, Hen 1. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your

help :

And heaven for _ a shallow seratch should drive
|The prince of V\ ; from such a field as this ;
Vhere stain’d no b y ity lies trodden on,
nd rebels’ arins tr lun ape in massacres !
P. John. We breathe too long:—Come, cousin
Westmorel: ae
|Our duty this way lies; for God’s sake, come.
[Zxeunt Prince John and Westmoreland,
| P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv’d me,
Lancaster,

think thee lord of such a spirit :

lov’d thee :

is a brother, John;
,ut now. I dore pe ct thee as my soul.
ky. Hen. 1 saw him hold lord Piescy at the point,
Vi lustier maintenance than I did look for
O} n ungrown warrior,
P, Hen. O, this boy
ttle to us all! [Exit.
Alarums. Enter Douglas
Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra’s
| am la tal to all those
rg : colours on them. —What art thou,
t the person of a king?
Hen. king himself; who, Douglas, grieves
of his shadows thou hast met,
very king. Ihave two boys,
1 th elf, about the field :
1 [alist On me so luckily,
' - so defend thyself.
i 1 art another counterfeit ;
th, thou bear’st thee like a king:
I ire thou art, whoe’er thou be,
| y fight ;. the King being indanger,
enter Prince Henry.
P: i Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou
| |
| yp again! the spirits
) ly, Stafford, Blunt, are In my arms:
of Wales, that threatens thee ;
; \ yy h, but he means to pay.—
[They fight; Douglas flies
ly, m lord : tlow fares your grace Pies’
Gawsey hath for succour sent,
Clifton: Pil te Clifton straight,
. 1 hry it} : hil i
thy lost opinion
imak’st s¢ tender of my life,
hou has brought to me
ae 1! they did me too much in
d, I hearken’d for vour death
I », Im have let alone
1 hand of Douglas over vou,
have been as speedy in your end,
As is potions in the world,
\n d the treacherous labour of your son.
K, Hen. Make up t Clifton, I’il to sir Nicholas
Gawsey. | Exit King Henry

(3) Reputation,Scene V. FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 400
Enter Hotspur. |life of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a
: . iy {| el { 5 :
Hot. If | mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. ae it rn ee Se fo j Ca eee
P. Hen. Thou spe ak’st as if 1 would deny my}, ae S ay we a :

nam purl of valour is—discretion; in the which better
t e , ' : Ty iy .
H \ : part, | have saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid
iot. ly name is Harry Perey. ou ne
P; A b. Why. t] I of this gunpowder Perey, though he be dead:
* e7 j ne? Seer : ey \ a : * ,
4 Very vallantsahel all re Se tlow, if he should counterfeit too, and rise? Iam
d ec uuan pel o e name, “a5 ; ra
See tile ; f : wet 4 ink p itraid he would prove the better counterfeit, There-
i Lhe prinee ¢ wes; and Ul! 101 rcy ;
To shat “I me vales; and think not, Percy, | ore-1ll make him.sure: ye a, and Vil swear I kill-
share “lo ‘ yt : e . f
ks noe 1 me in wry any mor led him. Why may not he rise, as well as 1?
08 5 4 oO snhere: i+ 11 .
N ars Ke i, oe c a ms e Has pnere 5 | IN thing ay nfutes me but eyes, aa nobody sees
iN Or al mie ; ) 0 ¢ j ] *relon |
ate YD 5 a dg Ree vA 1 BM, ime. Therefore, sir: ah, LStebting him.] with a new
arry Perey, and the prince ol tles,
irr ercy, an git tap ecide : wound in your thigh, come you along with me.
Iiot. Nor shall it, H irry, for the hour iscome |

ey eae SS [Z'wkes Hotspur on his back.
l'o end the one of us; And ’would to trod,

Thy name in arms were now as great as mine! | Re-enter Prinee Henry and Prince John.
P. Hen. Vil make it greater, ere | part from thee; P. Hen. Come, brother doble full bravely hast
And all the budding honours on thy crest thou flesh’d
lll crop, to make a garland for my head. Chy maiden sword.
Flot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. P, John. But soft! whom have we here ?
: [ They fight.) Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead ?
Enter Falstaft PH 7 I did; I saw him dead, breathless and
Fal. Well said, Ha , Hal }—Nay, you shall yy. the eround.—
find no boy’s play here, L can tell you, Arf thou alit »? or is it phantasy
Enter Douglas: he fichts with Falstaff who fall: [ at ] tal) Ss upOn our eye-: ight ii pr’ythee, speak ;
down as if he were dead, and exit Douglas. Hot- Wi will not trust our eyes, without our ears:—
spur is wounded. and falls. Thou art not what thou seem’st.
ae 4 =r ars : Fal. No, that’s certain; Lam not a double man:
Hot, O, Harry, thou hast robb’d me of my youth: |), (I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack.
I better brook the loss of brittle life, There is Perey: [Throwing the body down.] if
han those proud tith ion Vey ,|your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let
[hey wound my thoughts, worse than thy sw m kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either
my Besn .—— | or duke, I can assure you.
gut thoug the siave.ol : P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw
And time, t Lakes SUI { \ ; e dead : ‘
Must have a stop. O, I¢ D ; I Didst thou ?—Lord, lord, how this world is
But that th ly and 1 Ol ¢ n to | cont int you, | was down, and out
Lies on my tongue :—No, Percy, thou art dust, ‘breath: and so was he: but we rose both at an
And food for—— [Dies. instant. and foucht a lone hour by Shrew: sbury
P. Hen. For warms, brave Percy: F thee! cloak” 18 i ani e believed, so; if not, let them,
well, great heart !— iat should re d valour, bear the sin tpon their
Ill-weav’d ambition, how much art thou shrunk! own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave
When that this bod id ¢ na spirik m this wound in » thigh: if the man were
A kinedom for it was too s la bound ; live, and would deny it, I would make him cata
But now, two paces of | \ rin f m1 rd.
Is room enough :—This earth, that bears thee dead, P. John. This is the strangest tale that e’er I
Bears vot alive so stout a tleman heard.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy, | P, Hen. This is the strangest fi low, brother
I should not make so de show zeal :— Toh ww
But let my favours! hide thy mangled face ; Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back:
And, even in thy b if, Pil thank myself ‘or my part, if'a he may do thee erace,
For doing these fair rites of tenderness. — V’ll gild it with the happiest terms f have.
Adieu, and take thypral wilh thee to heaven: 1.4 retreat is sounded.
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in th rave, The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours.
But not remember’d in thy epi i -|Come, brother, let’s to the highest of the field,
He sees Falstaff on the ground, l‘o see what friends are living, who are dead.
What! old acquaint ! eguld not all this flesh | Rxeunt Prince Henry and Prince John,
Keep in a little life? P } , farewell! Fal. Yl) follow, as they say, for reward. -He
I could have bette: better man. that rewards me, God reward him! If Ido grow
O. IT should have a heavy ! of thee, reat. Pll grow ens or Vil purge, and leave sack,
irl were much in lo’ ith vanity. nd live cleanly, as a nobl man should do.
Death hath not struc » fat a deer to-day, ” Eri , bearing off the body.
Though m ny dearer, vi this bi ly { y: 5
Embowell’d will Is e by and by; _ ._ |SCENE V.—Another Pe rt of the field. The
Till then, in blood by che rerey He: [Evit. ra sound, Enter King Henry, Prince
Fal. [Rising slow a Embowell’d! Ifthouem-| Plenry. Prince John, Westiiovals nd, and monet

}
j
bowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to nowder? me, with Worcester, and Yernon, prisoners

7S} ] +, . {}
rd . to-morrow. Shloo i. was lim a . ne . .
and eat oe Rae, “ " ns 1 s nt So +h had pai rd K. Hen. Thus re did rebellion find rebuke.—
to countertel or that hot ermag Tk 3 - i l _ Wi + : eee =i o
me scot and lot too. Count erfe it? I lie, fT am no I}l-spirite a WV orceste did we not send grace,

ar r Pardon. and ti of Ae Bey all of you?
counterfeit: To die, is to be a counterfeit; for he Pardon, and terms

$ el ; : Pst thou turn our oflers contrary?
is ¢c rie aman, who hath not the| And woul 2?
1S but the count rieit ol manu, i

’ 2) Salt.
(1) Scarf with which he covers Percy’s face. (

F

.Ske en

i ee

 

41 FIRST Fan OF KING HENRY IV. ict V.
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman’s trust ? P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to
Three knights upon our party slain tn day,
A noble earl, and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,

you
'This honourable bounty shall belong:
\Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne \Up to his pleasure, ransomless, and free:
Betwixt our armies true intelligence. |His valour shown upon our crests to-day,
Wor. What I have done, my safety urg’d me to;}Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
And I embrace this fortune patiently, |Even in the bosom of our adversaries.
Since not to be avoided it falls on me. | K. Hen. Then this remains,~that we divide
K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Ver-| our power.—
non too: /You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
Other offenders we will pause upon.— |'Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest
[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded. | speed,
How goes the field? 'To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop
P. Hen. The noble Scot, lord Douglas, when} Who, as we hear, are busily in arms:
he saw Myself,—and you, son Harry,—will towards Wales
The fortune of the day quite turn’d from him, To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March.
The noble Percy slain, and all his men \Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Upon the foot of fear,—fled with the rest: Meeting the cheek of such another day :
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruis’d, |And since this business so fair is done,
That the pursuers took him. At my tent Let us not leave till al) our own be won.

The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace, | | Exeutte
I may dispose of him.
K. Hen. With all my heart."ART il.

He

a (sth AY i Hi
ca ie

Me _ ing
Hi
a

 

KING HENRY V.
Act ee Fain Scene a,F
.  ?
o fs
oe
on '
ie
By
ne
:
-
A
: Pa
} f
i
4 i
:§ i
j
f \
: i
H |SECOND

KING HE

king Henry the Fourth
Henry, prines of Wales, afte urds )
King Henry Y. ;
The inas, duke of Clarence:
Prince John of Lancaster, afte Is \ / }
(2 Henry VY.) duke of Be l;
Prince Humphrey of G! ter, afterwards |
(2 Henry V.) duke Gilost
Earl of Warwick : )
Earl of Westmoreland: > of the kine’s fy
Gower; Harcourt ; +
Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench.
A Gentleman attending on the Chief Jus!

Earl of Northumberland :
Scroop, archbishop of York: enemies t
Lord Mowbray; Lord Hastings; | the |
Lord Bardolph ; Sir John Coleville;
diecersarvent ;
INDUCTION,
~~ -
Warkworth. Before Northumberland’s casile.

»

Enter Rumour, pa

mnt d full of tongucs
Open your ears; For ¥
stop

The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks
1, from the orient to the drooping west,

Making the wind my post-ho still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ;

The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.

{ speak of peace, while covert ¢ nmity,

Under the smile of safety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,

Alake fearful musters, and prepar’d defence ;

vhich of you will

Rum.

}

rse,

Whilst the big year, swoll’n with some other grit a

{s thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjcctures ;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,
That the blunt monster with uncountes
The still-discordant wavering multitude,

Can play upon it. But what need I thus

My well-known body to anatomize

Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before king Harry’s victory ;

Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,

Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion

Even with the rebel’s blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is

To noise abroad,—that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur’s sword ;

And that the king before the Douglas’ rage
Stoop’d his anointed head as low as death,

1}

A i

eads,

(1) Northumberland’s castle,

PART OF

em

a4

RW IV.

 

) Morton, domestics of Northumberland.

Falstaff, Bardo!ph, Pistol, and Page.

Poins and Peto, attendants on Prince Henry.

Shallow and Silence, country Justices.

Davy, servant lo Shallow.

Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bullcalf, re-
cruil

Fang and Snare, sheriff’s officers.

Aum 1 Porter.

-l Dancer, speaker of the Epilogue.
Lady Northumberland. Lady Percy.
liostess Quickly. Doll Tear-sheet.

Lords and ether attendants ; officers, soldiers, mes-
icer, drawers, beadles, grooms, &c.

Scene, England.

 

 

This have I rumour’d through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury

And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,!
Where Hotspur’s father, old Northumberland,
Lies erafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,

And not a man of them brings other news
‘Than they have learn’d of me; From Rumour’s

tongues

They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true
wrongs. Exit.

| —>———
| ACT I.

SCENE I.—The same. The Porter before the
gate; Enter Lord Bardolph.

Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho ?—Where is
the earl ?
| Port. What shall I say you are?
Bard, Tell thou the earl,
That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk’d forth into the or-
chard ;
| Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,
And he hunself will answer.

Enter Northumberland.
j
|

Rard Here comes the earl.
North. What news, lord Bardolph? every minute
| now
Should be the father of some stratagem :*
times are wild; contention, like a horse
of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
bears down all before him.
Bard. Noble earl,
I bring you certais news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an heaven will!
| Bard. As good as heart can wish:
\The king is almost wounded to the death ;

| (2) Important or dreadful event.

5
Ul
ne

|
And

*<n es

   
  
 
    
 
 
   
 
  
 
   
   
   
   
   
     
   
   
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
      
  

Soe

 

eee rae

Ain S

   

KCOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. Act I.

And, in the fortune of my lord your son, {Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night,

Prince Harry slain outright ;

Kill’d by the hand of Douglas:

And Westmoreland, and Staf
And Harry Monmouth’s bray
Is prisoner to your,son: O
So fought, so tollow’d, and si
Came not, till now, to d lonify
Since Cxsar’s fortunes !

North. How is this deriv’d ?

Saw you the field? came you

Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from

thence ;

5

A gentleman well bred, and of

That freely render’d me these
North. Here comes my se
I sent

On Tuesday last to listen afte

Bard. My ford, I over-rode |

And he is furnish’d with no ec:

More than he haply may reta

Enter Trave

North. Now, Travers, wha
with you?

and both the Blunts

nd would have told him, half his Troy was burn’d:
young prince John,| But Priam found the fire, ere he his Longue,
ford, fled the field; |And I my Percy’s death, ‘ere thou report’st 1i.
vn, the hulk sir John,|This thou wouldst say,—Your son did thus, and

uch a day, thus ;
) fairly won, | Your brether, thus; so fought the noble ae :
y the tinres, Stopping my greedy. ear with their bold deeds

But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,

| hou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,

from Shrewsbury ? | Ending with—brother, son, and all, are dead.
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet:
But, for my lord your son,——

North, Why, he is dead.

Lis

5 ui

I s for tru See, what a ready onnee suspicion hath!
vant, Travers, whom! le, that but or hing he would not know,
Hath, by instinct om ge from others’ eyes,
r news, ‘Chat what he fe een aes Yets peak, Morton;
hun on the way: ‘ell thou thy earl, his divination Wea:
tainties, And I will take ee Se ees
i from me, And make thee rich for nee me such wrong.
| Mor. You are t o great to be by me gainsaid :
rs. 1Y< if oo true, your fears too certain.
t good tidi come ‘ Yet, for all this, say not that Perey’s dead.
if

i see a strange conti ssion in thine eye:

Tra, My lord, sir John Umfrevile turn’d me back| Thou shak’st thy head. and hold’st it fear, or sin,
With joyful tidings: and, being better ho: “". | Po speak a truth. ‘If he lait say so:
Out-rode me. After hin, came, spurring | The tongue offend t, that reports his death:

A gentle man almost forsp nt" wil , \nd he doth sin, that doth belie the dead ;
hat stopp’d by me to breat! horse :| Not he, 1 1 says the dead is not alive.

He ask’d the way to Chester: and b rf unwelcome news
I did demand, what news from § i 0 nd his tongue
He told { me, that rebellion had |] lien bell,

And that young Harry Pere cold r’d | d d friend.

Vith that, he rave his abl: . [cannot think, my lord, your son is dead,
And, bending forward, struc [an y, | ud { > you to believe
Against the panting sides of his } jad ich L would to heaven I had not seen:

Up to the rewcl-head ; and But | im in bloody state,
He seem’d in running t Y> Lond’ ring faint quittance,® wearied and outbreath’d,
Staying no longer qu lol Mon th: whose swilt wrath beatdown

North, fal os ] -daunted Percy to the earth,

Said he, young Harry Percy’ cold ¢ ‘rom whence with life he never more sprung up,
Of Hotspur, coldspur? th fey is death (whose spirit lent a fire ~
Hiad met ill luck ? th] nt in his camp, )

Bard, My lord, 1’ll tel { Li e, took fire and heat away
if my young lord your son day, mthe b temper’d courage in his troops:
U ine honour, for a sil Nou 3 om his metal was his party steel’d ;

Dll give my bar : never tlaikx of if v { ein hin ed, all the rest
North. Wh y should the gentle: . l n n ves, like dull and heavy lead.
Travers, thing that’s heavy in itself, ~
Give th n such inst s of i i . flies with reatest speed ;

Bard Who, he ? vy in Hotspur’s loss,

He was some hildine? fellow, I Pn ch hehtne vith their fear,

The horse he rode on , upon my life, ows fled not swifter toward their aan

Spoke ata venture. Look, here coy more news 1 did our sold uming at their safety,
v4 tly t the field: Then was that noble Worcester

Foretelis the nature of at
So looks the strond. 1
Hath left a witness’d usurt
Say, Morton, didst thou ec

Mor. Tran from Shrewsbur\

Where hateful death put on hi
To fright our party

North, Low doth mi
Thou tremblest : and the whiten:
Is apter than thy tongue to tell tl

Even such a man, so {nint. so :

So dull, so dead in look, so wo-!

Exhausted. (2) ]

An attestation of its

3) Hilderling, base, coward ly . | (=)
)

nprisoner; and that furious Scot,

‘ title-leaf. 1] vy Dou , whose well-labouring sword
: rh in ine i Ca} ne king,
e imperious flood n Va his stomach, and did grace the shame
. t tutn’d their backs: lidvintale flight,
sbury? |Si Ving in fear, was took. The sum ofall
, my noble lord; is,—that the king hath won: and hath sent out
ucliest m \ edy power to encounter vou, my lord,
he ¢ wet younc Lancast
son, and brother?) And Westmoreland: this is the ne wea in fall,
sin thy cheek North. For this I shall have time enoue thto mourn,
\ | in posen Cre iS physic; and these news,
ritless, Ha } |, that would have made me sick,
-| ne, 3 ! sic! Live In sOme measure made me well:

ind as the wretch, whose fever-weaken’d joints

(6) In few words,

(5) J
ravage, (7) Rens (8) Let fall,Scene I]. SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 413

Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause ;

mpatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Lells them, he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Out of his keeper’s arms; even so my limbs. Gasping fordife under great Bolingbroke ;

Weaken’d with erief, being now enr ¢’d with erief,| And more,® and le ss, do flock to follow him.
Are t} rice themselves : hence th relo

. ore, lnou nice! North. [knew of this before ; but, to speak trufn,
crutch ; This present eriet ed wip’d tt ‘from my mind.
A sealy gauntlet n yw, with joints of steel, Goin with me; and counsel every man
Must clove thi: hand: and hence, thousi kiy quoif;?| The aptest way for safe ty, and revenge:
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head. Get posts, and letters, and im ake friends with speed ;
Which | lesh’ to hi I

princes, fesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. | Never so few, and never yet more need. [Exeunt.

The raeced’st hour t} ie Ale ia l anita dare bring. (> Cleve U.—Lendon. A sireet. Enter Sir John

 

To froswn upon the enrae’d Northumberland!” Fal t wilh kis Page bearing his sword and

Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature’s hand| 2

Keep the wild flood confin’d! let order die! - Fal. Sirrah, you says the doctor to

And let this world no lon ; ‘ :

To feed contention in a | rage. kie said, itself was a good

But let one sp it « | | “porn ¢ Wate! buf ty that owed" it, he

Reign in all bosoms , each r set have more d had knew for.

On bloody courses, rude s may l, Fal. Men of all ride to gird® at me;

And darkness be the } of i] brain of this f pounds d elay y, man, is
ira. This strained } doth you wrong, my/not abl vi hing tends to laughter,

lord than Ti t, or is invented on me: Iam not

Bard. Sw eet ¢ irl, divorce not wisdom from 1 1! nly wi Ly In mys lf, but the cause that wit is in
ono i yiner men. i do hye rc Wi lk be fore thee lik ea sow,
hkOnouUur, ;

Mor. The lives of all vour lovine complicé that hath o’erwhelmed all her li tter but one. If the
lean on your h lth: the whi ty 1h.) ive o’er Ince put ther INL. IN} ervi e ‘i r any other reason
To stormy passion, must pert Ce . lan i rit i, WI inen i nave no judgme nt.
You cast the eve { war, my noble lord, l who! mn mandralx ,” thou art fitter to be
And summ’d the account of chance, before yor rn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was
: ‘ vid never 1 ned with an agate?® till now: but I will

said, |

‘tus make head. It was vour urmist u neither in gold nor silver, but c vile appa-
eT US eee: re i : ’ | ! ly 1 baek sont ‘our aster, for
"That i. the del » ol blows 3 1m) ‘Op: rel, and send you back again Joyou master, for a

You knew, he walk’d o’er perils, on an edze., ' 1; the juve al, the prince your master, whose
More likely to fall in, than ¢ tov’er: in I not yet fledged. | wal SOOnsr have a beard
You were advis’d, his | yas capab! Ww in the palm of my hand th in he shall get one
Of wounds, and scars; and 1) his forward spirit®! 0! is cheek; and § ne wul not stick to s say, his
Would lift him where most trade of danger rang’d;\lace is a face royal: God may finish it when.he

Yet did you say,—Go forth; and n of this, , itis notah ir amiss yet: he may keep it still
Though strong! hended, could 1 s a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn six-
not fn strongty a re i ly } ! i yal, ; ¢ :
The stiff-borne action: What hath then | llen rc] out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if
i SLiil- l} Ci . y i : JCIALCTI, : i ; A ’ med a2
Or hat hath this bold enter brought fort] he had writ man ever since his father was a bache-

{ Willa ill Lihlis PUI : i Lidl,

More than that being which was like to be ? lor. ie may keep his own grace, but nets gupost
vay Fae si, “ ! to this | t of mine, I can assure him.——What saic
Bard. We all, that 6 el LO I 3 as VE LU » 2 Can ul Hm 1

, "| lanvere S master Dumbleton about the satin, for my short
Knew that we ve ntur a on such danverous 5 NORE At!
That if we wrouls nt out Lil , tivas ten to on ° Cj ‘ ul ps . s

And > ’d, for tl in propos’d r Lie said, sir, you should procure him bet-
And vet we ventur’d, tor the gain pri vd ne

a
2
thok’d t! pect of lil peril fear’d; ter assurance than Bardolph: he would not take
Chok’d the respect of ikely } ril G2

. f yenture Lin his bond and yours; he liked not the security.
, « -. are ( rset, VCULUre aga . ad ied ' .
And, — ec } a ‘} | lv. and roods Fal. Let him be damned like a glutten! may
Come, "5 will al Il put orth; bOCY, and Foods, f

time: And, my most noble his tongue be hotter!—A whoreson Achitophel! a
Mor. ? lis more wnan lume: ANU, My MOst Novuit ij

ae raseally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman
a o g ryy

ae tan eneak the truth ue in hand, and then stand upon security !—The whore-
1 hear for certain, and do speak the truth,— .

. oe ee eee on smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high
The gentic penne = , rs i — me shoes. and bunches ol ke ys at their cirdles ; and if
With well-appot ited pow? ; ae I Follow ty + oo is thorouoh?!! with them in hone st taking up,
Who with a doublesur: t; binds his How rs. ” pe ee a ee thea
na Or. F Re 2005100 Vay — , i ht. lief they would put rat bane in my mouth, as offer

sut shadows, and the shows ot men, tf ih. ee ;

pee tela Oe Bers ’ » it wilh seeurity. 1 looked he should have
For that same Pre ee on ee ee nt me two and twenty yards of satin, as lama
The action of their bodes trom th oe +7 ‘i Lent rht, and he sends me security. Well, he
And they did nent with qu ine * Punt I a " 3 : an 1 beer ity a He hath the lines of
As men drink potions; that th id ee ee . hundanee. and the lightness of his wife shines
Seem’d on our side, but, for then her eer sich it: and yet cannot he se e, though he
This word, rebe Ilion, it hh id {ro S ‘ t ee a . hie own lantern to ioht him.——W here’s
As fish are in a pond: But now the bisnop DP,

Turns insurrection to reli Jee “ ey: Page, He's cone into Smithfield, to buy your

Suppos’d meee and holy in his thougnts, PBR S IAEA

: _" 7 writs % ly and wit h mind: worship a ho “a “

Be a rer aii fa eit | blood Pal. T boueht him in Pauls, and he’ll buy mea
ny \ i 7 di i libs ' , :

Aa OOD ed yep fro. . Por fi t st snes: {horse in Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife

Of fair king Richard, scrap’d from Pomiret stones ; |!

C: (3) Distribution, | (9) A root supposed to have the shape of a man,
af at thi ir stomach: | (10) A little figure cut in an agate,

ns : ! : . ;

: (8) Gibe | (11) In their debt,

(1) Trifling. {
(4) Forces. (
(6) Greater, (orn

- ee erie

4l4 SECOND PART ¢

in the stews, ] wéré manned, horsed, and wived."|

Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an attendant.

OF KING HENRY IV,

 

het I,

Ch. Just. 1 think, you aré fallen into the dis-
ease: for you hear not what I say to you.

’

Fal. Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an’t

Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that com- Please you, it is the dise ase of not listening, the

mitted the prince for striking him about Bardolph.

Fal. Wait close; I will not see him.

Ch. Just. What’s he that goes there ?

Atten. Falstaff, an’t please your Jordship.

Ch, Just. He that was in question for the robbery ?

Atten. He, my lord: but he hath since done
good service ‘at Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, is|
now going with some charge to the lord John of
Lancaster.

Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back again. |

Atten. Sir John Falstaff!

Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deaf,

Page. Y¥: "7 must speak get my master is deaf,

Ch. Just. I am sure , he is, to the hearing of any
thing good. Ge pluck hae by thee Ibow ; I must
speak with him.

Alten. Sir John,——

Fal. What! a youn knave, and bea! Is then
not wars? is there not employment? Doth not the

king lack subjects? do not the rebels need sol-|

diers? Though it be a shame to be on any side
but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the
werst side, were it worse than the name of rebel-
lion can tell how to make it.

Alten. You mistake me, sir.

Fa!. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest
man? setting my knighthood and my soldiership
aside, I had lied in my throat if I had said so.

Alten. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood
and your soldiership aside; and give me leave to
tell you, you lie in your throat, if you say I am any
other than an honest man.

Fal. 1 give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside!
that which grows to me! If thou gett’st any leave
of me, hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert
better be hanged : You hunt-counter,? hence !
avaunt!

Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you.

Ch. Just. Sir John Falst: if a word with you

Fal, My good lord !—God give your lordship
good time of day. Iam glad to see your lerds hi p
abroad: I heard say, your lordship was sick: ]
hope your lordship 0c s abroad by advice. a3
lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath
yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the
saltness of time ; and I most hi umbly beseech your
lordship, to have a reverend care of your health.

Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your
expedition to Shrewsbury. :

Fal. An’t please your lordship, I hear, his ma-
resty is returned w ith some discomfort from Wales.

Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty :—You would/t
not come when I sent for you.

Fal. And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen
into this same whoreson apoplexy.

Ch, Just. Well, heaven mend him! I pray, let
me speak with you. :

Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of
lethargy, an’t please your lordship; a ki 4 of sleep-
ing in the blood, a whoreson tins cling.

Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as it is.

Fal. It hath its original from much grief; from
study, and perturbation of the brain: I have read
the cause of his effects in Galen; it is a kind of
deafness.

j

(1) Alluding to an old proverb: Who goes to!
Westminster for a wife, to St. Paul’s for a man,|
and to Smithfield for a horse, may mect with a|
whore, a knave, and a jade,

imalady of not marking, that I am troubled withal,
CA. wust. ‘ie punish you by the heels, would
jamend the attention of your ears; and I care not,
lit { become your physic ian.

| al. I am as poor as Job, my lord; but not so
patient: your lordship may ministe r the potion of
imprisonment to me, in respect of poverty; but
how I should be your patient to follow your a
iscriptions, the wise may make some dram of
scruple, or, indeed, a seruple itself,

; Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were mat-

ters aginst you for your life, to come speak with
me.

Fal. ; I was then advised by my learned coun
| in ic “4 iws of this land-service, I did not come.

‘ht, Just: Well, the truth is, sir John, you live
in great infamy.

Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot
live in less.

Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and
your waste is great.

Fal. I would it were otherwise; I would my
a ins were gre ater, and my waist slende rer.

Just. You have misled the youthful prince.

Fal The young prince hath misled me: I am
the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog,

Ch. Just. Well, Tam loath to gall a new-healed
wound; your day’s service at Shrewsbury hath a
little gilded over your nights exploit on Gads- hill;

you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet o’er
posting that action.

Fal. My lord?

Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so: wake
not a sleeping wolf.

Fal. To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell a fox.

Just. What! you are as a candle, the bet-
er part burnt out.

Fal. A wassel® candle, my lord: all tallow: if
I did say of wax, my growth would approve the
truth.

Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your face,
but should have his effect of gr avity.

Fal. His effect of gravy, gr avy, gravy.

Ch. Just. You follow the young r prince up and
down, like his ill angel.

Fal. Not so, my lord; your ill angel* is light :
but, I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me
without weighing: and yet, in Some respects, I
grant, I cannot go, I cannet tell:5 Virtue is of so
little regard in these coster-monger times, that true
valour is turned bear-herd: Pregnancy® is ms ade a

apster, and hath his quick wit wasted in viving
reckonings: all the other gifts appertinent to man,
as the malice of this age shapes them, are not
worth a gooseberry. You, that are old, consider
not the capacities of us that are young: you
measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of
your galls: and we that are in the vaward’ of our
vouth, I must confess, are wags too. 7

«

Ch. Just. Do you set down your name in the

roll of youth, that are written down old with all
the characters of age ? Have you not a moist eye?
a dry hand? a yellow cheek? a white beard? «
decreasing leg? an increasing belly? Is not your
voice broken ? your wind short? your chin double?

(2) A ecatch- P ole or bum-bailiff,

(3) A ts ge candle for a feast.

(4) The coin call me anangel. (5) Pass current,
(6) Readiness, (7) Forepart,Scere IT.

or ‘
Ya 415
your wit single y, 2nd every part about you blasted) wit will make use of any thjno: I will turn dis
With antiquity /? and will you yet call yourself eases to commodity : he [E it
young? Fie, fie, fie, sir John! fp *
Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the| SCENE UI.—York. .A room in the archbishop’s
eet the afternoon, with a white. head, and| Pélace. Enter the archbishop of York, the lords
something a round belly. For my voice,—I have| Hastings, Mowbray, and Bardolph.
lost it with hollaing. and singing of anthems. To Irch. T)
“pprove my youth further, I will not: the truth is,| * "ia
l am only old in judgement and understa

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY jf

1us have you heard our cause, and known
ndine our means ; ‘
and he that will caper with me for a thousand tee noble friends, I pray you all,
marks, let him lend me the money, and have at re ft a ype eee ons of our hopes :—
um. For the box o’the ear that the prince gave| “Mow! ? a oe what say you to it?
you,—he gave it like a rude prince, and you took But otal ae — the reaaon of our arms:
it like a sensible lord. I have check’d him for it: Siar ‘Be, To - wr speared,
and the young lion repents: marry, not in ashes,|T'o Io le with ae al ee advance OUrsalieg
and sackcloth; but in new silk, and old sack. Fits th Ww i ae LeU old and big enough
Ch, Just. Well, heaven send the prince a better Ted "Oe veeerd Tniaetaee 2 W Repel hie
companion ! am ae ee
Fal. Heaven send the companion a better prince ! ad ennean at apnane men of choice ;
I cannot rid my hands of him. Of creat Norther os ak ine oe hope
Ch. =. Well, the king hath severed you and With ns huseana he af mines. osom burns
wince Harry: I hear, you are going with lord eel Wie! aust a ike ia eek
Soha of Lancaster, against the archbishop, and ve woe then, lord Hastings, stand-
» ae nf North: srlan i . “9
ay te nang eee sahidiatinin aaah Whether our present five and twenty thousand
Pea ; _ y tor i.) May hold up fiead without Northumberland
But look you pray, afi you that kiss my lady peace th he ’
at home. that : ie ; ‘Oj 1 tne: ben a ; Hast. W ith him, we may.

t home, thal our armies join mn In a hot day! > ord oe ; :
for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me ee tee oa AY marry, there’s the point :
: ’ ; ne Meanwdinacth.. ipiy 12) ut, if without him we be thought too feeble,
oT ] oe ae to sw 1 toe ae oa : ; it be \fy judgment is, we should not step too far

av. : rancia : . yr : . t > len” . :
T mould Poni mash, any thing but my bottle Tit we had his assistance by the hand
not a dangerous action ean peep out his head, but Corian : — 80 bloody-fae'd as this,
yr Saeed pmetinng pale A ae a va. nonectire, expectation, and surmise
But it was always yet the trick of our English na- Seok “aoe should not be admitted. .
tion, if they have a good thing, to make it too com- It : ya oe ted — Burdolpn; for, Indegd,
, ey have a good g, ake c t was young Hotspur’s case at Shrewsbury.
mon. If you will needs say, | am an old man,you) Bard. It was, my lord; who lin’d himself with
should give me rest. I would to God, my name hone .
were not so terrible to the emny os it is. I wert Eating the air on promise of supply,
better to be eaten to death with rust, than to be Flattering himself with project of a power
scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. __,| Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts:
Ch. Just. W ell, be honest, be honest; And God} 4 na so, with great imagination,
bless your expedition ! Proper te madmen, led his powers to death,
Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand And, winking, leap’d into destruction.
pound, to furnish me forth? Hast. But, by your leave it never yet did hurt,
Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you are) To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope.
too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well:| Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war ;—
‘,ommend me to my cousin Westmoreland. Indeed the instant action (a cause on foot, )
[Exeunt Chief Justice and Alttendant.|] ives so in hope, as in an early spring
Fal, If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle."—/ We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit,
A man can no more separate age and covetous- Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair,
ness, than he can part young limbs and lechery :|That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build
but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the) We first survey the plot, then draw the model ;
other; and so both. the degrees prevent* my) And when we see the ficure of the house,
curses.—Boy !|—— Then must we rate the cost of the erection:
Page. Sir? Which if we find outweighs ability,
Fal, What money is in my purse? What do we then, but draw anew the model
Page. Seven groats and two-pence. — ‘In fewer offices ; or, at least, desist
Fal. I can get no remedy against this consump-|'T9 pyild at all? Much more, in this great work
tion of the purse: borrowing only lingers ave) (Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down,
lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.—Go, And set another up,) should we survey
bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to The plot of situation, and the model ;
the prince ; this to the earl of Westmoreland ; and/ Consent’ upon a sure foundation ;
this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly) Question surveyors ; know our own estate,
sworn to marry since } perceived the first white! How able such a work to undergo,
hair on my chin: About it; you know where to![o9 weigh against his opposite ; or else,
find me. [Exit Page.} A pox of this gout! or, a| We fortify in paper, and in figures,
gout of this pox! for the one, or the other, plays} Using the names of men, instead of men:
the rogue with my great toe. It is no matter, if I Like one, that draws the model of a house
do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
pensions shall seem the more reasonable: A go0t'| Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost
|A naked subject to the weeping ~
(1) Small. (2) Old age. sare acl | And waste for churlish winter’s tyranny.
‘ ' > c rs aVY 5 <a
(S) Atenge wooden haramey #0 heey) | (4) Anticipate, (5) Agrees
guire three men to wield it. : a

r
o416
Hast.

renee

Grant that on

birth, )

i
t

 

The utmost man of ex;

San ey

Should be still-born, and

  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
    
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
 
   
 
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
   
   
  
   
 
 
    
   

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. ict I.

ir hopes (yet likely for fair]

|
|
|
|
|

Snare. Here, here.

Fong. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff.
Hosi. vood master Snare; I have entered
ihim and all.

Re on . . , ion 4
that we now possess’d Yea

° ?
ectation ;

Bi I think, we are a body strong enough, | Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives,
fi: Even as we are, to equal with the kin for he will stab.
f Bard. What! is the king but five and twenty} Host. Alas the day! take heed of him; he
| thousand ? stabbed me in mine own house, and that most
i i Hast. To us, no more; nay, ! o much, lord|beastly: in good faith, a’ cares not what mischief
Ph Bardolph. he doth, if his weapon-be out: he will foin* like
l’or his divisions, as the times do braw!] iy devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor
I Are in three heads: one power against the Frei thild.
H And one against Glendow: perforce, a If I can close with him, I care not for
Must take up us: So is the untirm kin is thrust
| In three divided; and his coflers sound Host ), nor I neither: Pll be at your elbow.
ki With hollow poverty and emptins Fang. An I but fist him once; an a’ come but
efrch, ‘Phat he sho { ‘ h my “ge
Fy together, fs 2 one by his gonig; I’ warrant you,
h And come against 1 full pu 1] e thi upon my seore:—trood
i Weed not be dri him sure ;—good master Snare,
' Hasi. } He comes continuallgto Pie-
ti He leaves his b i VW j your manhoods,) to buy @ saddle;
} ; Baying hin L Line to 1} to the lubbar’s head in
i Bard. Who, is i Ff . » master Smooth’s the silkman: I
H hit ! 1y exion is entered, and my ¢ase
4 Hast. The duke of I ter, iv known to the world, let him be brought
. land A hundred mark is a long loan
‘i Avainst the Wel If yr | ay to bear: And J have borne,
F But who is sub : ne: and have been fubbed off,
I have no certain ne Log and fubbed off, from this day to
Arch. titisashnmetobethouchton. There
And pub the « 1 such' dealing; unless a woman
The common le an ass, and a beast, to bear every
ii rh roy =] a
! A havitation g Lt John Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.
pi Hath he, tha b | { ‘

O thou fond m he 3; and that arrant malmsey-nose
Ad ibon hes! B i, with him. Do your offices, do
latliats en een i r Fang, and master Snare; do

a nn \ ir ommees
ane ens ' ¥ now? whose mare’s dead? what's
ey a Fai dlls tac :
an cate oe i . Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of mis-
The slitan wi Qunciy.
Ant oa . r ' vomit un, al, Away, va lets '—Draw, Bardolph ; cut me
. Be And how?Patto findit. Wha! e tin 7 villain’s head; throw the quean in the
1 1 ey Ly , | eer Host. Throw me if the channel q Pil throw thee
Ths that tirAwst ditst | 1. i the cl nel. W iit thou? wilt thou ? thou bas-
WV link Prous ' Re ly rogue \—Murder, murder! 0 thoa honey-
Aflier the admired h 5 ckle® villain! wilt thou kill God’s officers, and
Cryst noi. O earth, 1 f ne KU O thou honey-seed rogue: thou arta
dol take thou this! O | ay -seed ; a man-queller, and a woman-queller,
1. ‘ Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.
; ua, Sng BS Cop pope Bd ns 1 fe \ rescue ! a rescue!
a eee a at “ lost. Good per nle, bring a rescue or two.—
wee oT [p> » | Thou wo'’t, wo’t thou? thou wo’t, wo’t thou? do,
er “td hou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed !
si die ant Ful. Away, you scullion! you rampallion! you
fustilarian! VU tickle your catastrophe.
t ACT Il Enter the Lord Chief Justice, attended.
SCENE [.—London. street. Enter Hostess ;|, h } a t. What's the matter? keep the peace
Fang, and his boy, with | " nare follou Hy Gi od my lord, be good to me! I beseech
ws. ou, stand to me!
Host. Master Fang, have you entered theaction?| Ch. Just. How now, sir John? what, are you
Fane. It is entered. brawling here ?
S Host. Where is your yeoman Is it a lusty yeo-| Doth this become your place, your time, and busi-

i . ) ' a’ sta ato’t? | ness !

- Rete ene here’s Snare? | You should have been well on your way to York.—

Host. O lord, ay »od master Snare Stand arepime fellow; Wherefore hang’st thou

on nim
Moltitude. (2) Dress’d.
3} ee aaes follower 1) Thrust. (5) Grasp, (6G) Homieidal,. (7) Homicide,Seene

Host, O my most wor rshiptul lord, an’t

your grace, I am a poor widow of Easteheap, and
€ Or arrested at my suit,
Just. For what sum?

Seat, {t is more than for some, my lord; itis £
all, all [ have: he hath eaten me out of house and
home ; he hath put all my substance into that fat
belly of his :—but I will hi

TRAANT DiLDOm AK
ok, 6 ON D PA i\ i OF

ye some Of it OUL again, |}

KING HENRY IY, 4i?

ing, my lord, and Harry prines of

 

ire near at hand: the rest the paper tells,
As Tam a gentleman ;——
Host. Nay, you said so before.

?

fal. As Lam a gentleman ;——Come, no more

  

words of it.

fost. By this heavenly ground I tread,on, J must

28) os » thoa I nic . ‘| ;
or Pili ride thee o’nights, like the mare. __|be fain to pawn both my plate, and the tapestry of
Fal. 1 think, I am as like to ride the mare, if Ij/my | dining-chambers.
have any vanta ze of ground to getup. __ _ Fal, Glasses, g leat is the only drinking : and
Ch. Just. How comes this sir John? Fie! what|for thy walls,—a pretty ‘slig] ht drollery, or the story

man of good temper w ould endure this tempest cf
exclamation? Are you not ashamed, to enforce a

poor widow to so rough a course to come by her|and these {

own?

Fal, What is the gross sum that I owe thee?

Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thy-
self, and the money too. Th ou didst swear to me
upon a parcel-: gilt! goblet, sitting in my Dolphin
chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, |
upon Wednesday in Whiisun wéek, when the prin
broke thy head for liking his father to a singi
man of Windsor; thou didst swear to me then, as|
I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make
me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did
not good wife Keech, the butcher’s wife, come in|

then, and call me gossip Quickly ? coming in t
borrow a mess of vinegar; telling us, she had
good dish of prawns; whereby thou didst desire t

whereby I told thee, they were ill for a
green wound? And didst thou not, when she wa
gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so fa-
miliarity with such poor people; saying, that er
long they should call me madam? And didst thou
not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings?

eat some ;

I put thee now to thy book-oath; deny it, if thou
canst.

Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and she|
says, up and down the town, that her eldest son is

like you: she hath been in cood case, and, the}

truth is, poverty ae h distracted her. Bul for these
foolish officers, I beseech you, I may have red:
against them.

Ch. Just.
ed with your manner of wrenching
the false way. It is not a confident
throng of words that come with such more tha!
impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from
a level consideration ;
me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of
woman, and made her serve your uses both
purse and person.

Host. Yea, in troth, my lord.

Ch. Just, Pr *ythee, peace:—Pay her the debt
you owe her, and unpay the villany you ha ve dont
with her ; the one you mt ay do with sterling money,
and the other with current re P ‘ntane

Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this snet
outreply. You callh

T A TY 6 ue ede ae
Sir John, sir John, [am well acquaint-
the true caus:
brow, nor th

of th:

ip? with-
‘

}
nourable Goldin & impud nt

sauciness: if a man “will make court’sy, and say;™

he is virtuous: No, my lord, m
» your suitor; I sa
1eSe officers

nothing, humble
duty re me »mbered, I will not b ;
to you, I do desire deliverance frau
being upon hasty employment in the king’s aifairs.
Ch. dust. You spe “ak as having power to do
wrong: but answer inthe e flect of your reputi ition,
and satisfy the poor woman.
Fal. Come hither, hostess.

Enter Gower.

Ch. Just. Now, master Gower ;

What news?

(2) Snub, check.

(1) Partly gilt,

you have, as it appears to} La

-}was a fool that t

[Taking her aside. |

{ the prodigal, or the German hunting in water-

work, is worth a thousand of these bed- -hangings,
y-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound,
if thou canst. Con 1e, an it were not for thy hu-

|mours, there is not a better wench in England. Go,

wash thy face, and draw? thy action: Come, thou
must not ba in this humour with me ; dost not know

ime? Com ome, I know thou w ast set on to this,

Host. Pray ‘the e, sir John, let it be but twenty
faith, 1 am loath to pawn my plate, in
ood earnest, la.
Fal. Let it alone;
be a fool still,
Fost. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my
gown. I hope, you ll come to supper: You'll pay
me all tazether

Fal. Will I live?—Go, w a her, with her; [To
ard ph. | | hook on, hook

Hest. Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you

a‘)

t Pil make other shift: youll

lal. No more words ; let’s have her.
| Exeunt Host. Bard. officers, and page.
Ch. Just. I have heard better news.
F at’s the he ws, my good lord?
Ch. Tusk Where lay the king last night ?

Gow. At Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal. I hope, my lord, ¢ all’s well: What’s the
news, my lord?
Ch. Just. Come all his forces back ?
Gow. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred
he Orse,

.re march’d up to my lord of Lancaster,
Against North umbe ‘land, and the archbishop.
Fel, Comes the king back from Wales, my noble

in{ Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me presently :

Come go along with me, good master Gower,
Fal. My lord !

Ch. Just. What's the matter ?

‘d. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me

o dinner ?

| Gow. I must wait upon my good lord here: I

thank you, good sir John.
Ch. Just. Sir éohn, you loiter here too long,
‘ing you are to take soldiers up in counties as

Fal. Vill you sup with me, master Gower?
Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these
nners, sir John ?
Pal. Master Rowe, if they become me not, he
1ught them me.—This is the right
fencing rae e, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair.
Ch Now the Lord lighten thee! thou art
a fi ne [Exeunt.

eae Jl.—The same. Another street. Enter
Prince Henry and Poins.
| P. Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary.

Poins. Is it come to that? I had thought Wwearie
e s durst not have attached one of so high blood,

(3) Suitable to your character, (4) Withdraw,
aCEE ie i ae
= %

eae

SOE

NSTI

Sad aL
ra

—

    

 

als SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV,

P. Hen, ‘Faith, it does me; though it diseolours
the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it.
Doth it not show vilely in me, to desire small beer ?

Poins. Why, a prince should not be so loosely| ?. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph !
studied, as to remember so weak a composition. Bard. Come, you virtuous ass, [To the pa e.|

P. Hen: Belike then my appetite was not princely | YOU bashful fool, must you be blushing ? wherefore
got ; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor slush you now ? What a maidenly man at arms are
creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble|YOu become! Is it such a matter, to get a pottle-
considerations make me out of love with my great- pot's maidenhead ?
ness. What a disgrace is it tome, toremember| «ge. He called me even now, my lord, through
thy name? or to know thy face to-morrow? or to|% Ted lattice,* and I could discern no part of his
take note how many pair of silk stockings thou|@¢e from the window: at last, I spied his eyes ;

hast ; viz. these, and those that were the peach- and, methought, he had made two holes in the ale-
coloured ones? or to bear the inventory of thy wife Ss new petticoat, and peeped through.
shirts ; as, one for superfluity, and one other for| ?- Hen. Hath not the boy profited Z
use ?—but that, the tennis-court keeper knows bet-|_ 2ard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit,
ter than I; for itis a low ebb of linen with thee, |4Way !
when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast} / is Away, you rascally Althea’s dream,
not done a great while, because the rest of thy low-|2W2Y!
countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland :| P. Hen. Instruct us, boy: What dream, boy ?
and God knows, whether those that baw] out the|, 4 ¢-. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed she wee
ruins of thy linen,' shall inherit his kingdom; but|{elivered of a fire-brand ; and therefore I call him
the midwives say, the children are not in the fault: her dream. ;
whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are! - - 44en. A crown’s worth of good interpretation.
mightily strengthened. Bi where it Is, boy. | [Gives him money.
oins. How ill it follows, after you have labour-|. 77s. O, that this good blossom could be kept
ed so hard, you should talk so idly! Tell me, how | from cankers !—Well, there is sixpence to preserve
many good young princes would do so, their fathers| C¢-
being so sick as yours at this time is ? Bard. An you do not make him be hanged
, P. Hen, Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? among you, the gallows shall have wrong.
Poins. Yes; and let it be an excellent good thing. | P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph?
P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no higher| ard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace’s
breeding than thine. t _  |coming to town ; there’s a letter for you.
Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your onc| Poins. Delivered with good respect.—And how
thing that you will tell. : |doth the Martlemas,? your master ?
P. Hen. Why, I tell thee,—it is not meet that I| Bard. In bodily health, sir.
should be sad, now my father is sick: albeit I| _Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a physi-
could tell to thee (as to one it pleases me, for fault| Clan: but that moves not him ; though that be sick,
of a better, to call my friend,) I could be sad, and|"" dies not, J
gad indeed too. | . fen. I do allow this wen‘ to be as familiar

tet L1,
Enter Bardolph and Page,

Bard. Save your grace !

 

 

 

Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject. ra mé - my dog: and he holds his place; for,
P, Hen. By this hand, thou think’st me as far in| "Pe 7 Oly new Ds Loe taf’ lent ;
the devil’s book, as thou, and Falstaff, for obduracy| * 1S. [#eads.] John Falstaff, knight, Every

and persistency: Let the end try the man. But y/man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to
tell thee,—my heart bleeds inwardly, that my father|22me himself. Even like those that are kin to the
is so sick: and keeping such vile company as thou | king ;, for they never prick their finger, but they
art, hath in reason taken from me all ostentation|5*Y> amere ae some of the king’s blood spilt: How
of sate primed wgigl says he, that takes upon him not to

Polns: Shateesnn? | conceive : the answer is as ready as a borrower’s

P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me, if I)/°4P; 14m the king’s poor cousin, zir.
should weep ?

P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will
Poins. I would think thee a most princely hypo-| etch it from Japhet. But the letter :—
aula : | Poins, Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of
P. Hen. It would be every man’s thought: and | He King, an me arr Harry, prenes of
thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every man| p "Fe ee) ly, this Is a certificate,
thinks ; never a man’s thought in the world keeps} 4+ 4467. Peace. :
the road-way better than thine: every man would! Poins, I will imitate the honourable Roman in
think me a hypocrite indeed. And what accites|2”¢vily :—he sure means brevity in breath; short-
your most worshipful thought, to think so ? ue aa _ thee, rey 5
Poins. Why, because you have been so lewd, ak ee ae ee _ 7" i seeder...
and so much en¢raffed to Falstaff Jor he mtsuses thy Javours so much, that he swears
Ag egy ty Seine thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle
. * 4 . © . ‘ . - Jo . IY Pan
Poins. By this light, I am well spoken of, I can|/tmes as thou The st, fs i ar ell. hich i
hear it with my own ears: the worst that they can wert We ao one he (vc om hin e
say of me is, that I am a second brother, and that ai Fal ‘en ff sd LOts USES fps
I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two yo ih a fen my sages ;
things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here VOND, WUR MY OTOAETS ORG SA
comes Bardolph : and Sir John, with all Europe,
P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: he|My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and make
had him from me Christian; and look, if the fat|him eat it.

villain have not transformed him ape. P. Hen. That’s to make him eat twenty of his

(3) Martinmas, St. Martin’s day is Nov, ll,

1) Children wrapt up in his old shirts,
2 (4) Swollen excrescence,

An ale-house window,Scene TT, IP,

words. But do you tise
marry your sister ?

Poins. May the wench have no worse fortune!
but I never said so,

SECOND PART OF KING HENKY TY, 410

me thus, Ned? must I’ Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves,

He had no legs, that practis’d not his gait :

And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,

P. Hea, Well es Became the accents of the valiant ;

_*- fen. Well, thus we play the fools with the For those that could speak low, and tardily,

time ; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds, Would turn their own perfection to abuse,

and mock us.—!s your master here in London? | To seem like him: So-that, in speech, in gait,
Bard. Yes, my lord. | In diet, in affections of delight,

_ £. Hen. Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed In military rules, humours of blood,

in the old frank ?! He was the mark and glass, copy and book,

Bard. At the old place, my lord; in Eastcheap. That fashion’d others. And him,—O wondrous him!

f. Hen. W hat company ? O miracle of men !—him did you leave

Page. uphesians, my lord; of the old church. | (Second to none, unseconded by you,)

P. Hen. Sup any women with him ? To look upon the hideous god of war

Page. None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, In disadvantage ; to abide a field,
and mistress Dol! Tear-sheet. | Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur’s name

P. Hen. What pagan may that be? Did seem defensible :—so you left him:

Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kins-! Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong,
woman of my master’s, ‘lo hold your honour more precise and nice

P. Hen. Even such kin, as the parish heifers are| With others, than with him; let them alone ;
to the town bull.—Shali we steal upon them, Ned, ‘The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong:
al supper ? Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,

Poins. Lam your shadow, my lord; I'll follow |'To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur’s neck,
you. | Have talk’d of Monmouth’s grave.

P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy,—and Bardolph;—no| North. Beshrew? your heart,
word to your master, that I am yet come to town:|Fair dauchtey! you do draw my spirits from me,
There’s for your silence. | With new lamenting ancient oversights.

Bard. 1 have no tongue, sir. But I must go, and meet with danger there ;

Page. And for mine, sir,—I will govern it. |Or it will seek me in another place,

P. Hen. Fare ye well ; go—[{Exeunt Bardolph|And find me worse provided.
and Page.]—this Doll Tear-sheet should be some| Lady N. O, fly to Scotland,
road. | Till that the nobles, and the armed commons,

Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way | Have of their puissance made a little taste.
between Saint Alban’s and London. | Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the

P. Hen. How micht we see Falstaff bestow king,
himself to-night in his true colours, and not our-/Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
selves be seen? |To make strength stronger ; but, for all our loves,

Poins. Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons,|First let them try themselves: So did your son;
and wait upon hin », as drawers. He was so suffer’d ; so came I a widow;

P. Hen. From fn cod toa bull? a heavy descen- | And never shall have leneth of life enough,
sion! it was Jove’s case. Froma prince to.a’pren-|'T'o rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
tice? a low transformation! that shall be mine:|That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
for, in every thing, the purpose must weigh with| For recordation to my noble husband. Ay
the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt| North. Come, come, go in with me: ’tis with

; : my mind,

SCENE I1I.—Warkworth. Before the castle. \s with the tide swell’d up into its height,
Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, | That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
and Lady Percy. Fain would I go to meet the pre

. a oe es ae reptile | But many thousand reasons hold me back :——

North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentl i will resolve for Scotland’ tees aa. |

Tul time and vantage crave my company.
[Exeunt.

ere
at nis tabie,

 

daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs :
Put not you on the visage of the times,
And be, like them, to Perey troublesome.
Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.

ISCENE IV,.—London. 4 reom in the Boar's

| Head Tavern, in Eastcheap. Enter two Drawers.

a

North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn ;}

;| 1 Draw. What the devil hast thou brought there ?
And, but my going, nothing can redcem it. ee ee thou know/’st, sir John cannot endure
Lady P. O, yet, for God’s sake, go not to these|an apple-John.' y

d WwW rs wy 3 2 Draw. Mass, thou sayest true: The prince
The time was, father, that you broke your word, once set a dish of apple-Johns before him, and told
When you were more endear’d to it than now ; |him, there were five more sir Johns: and, putting
When your own Percy, when my heart’s dear Harry, j off his hat, said, J will now take my leave of these
Threw many a northward look, to see his father six dry, round, old, wither’d knights. It angered
Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. him to the heart ; but he hath forgot that. 3
Who then persuade: you to stay at home ? 1 Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down =
There were two honours lost: yours, and your son’s. | And see if thou canst find out Sneak’s noise ;* mis-
For yours,—may heavenly glory brighten it! itress Tear-sheet would fain hear some music, De-
For his,—it stuck upon him, as the sun spatch :—The room wine they supped is too hot ;

r ? 5 . . ae Z . = .

rey Vi t heaven: i r his lig they'll come in straight.
In the grey vault of heaven: and, by his light, n ae ’
Did all the chivalry of England move 2 Draw. Sirrah, ee a ee te
7) o 7% oD. aster Poins ¢; se, au ° Oo woo ou

To do brave acts; he was, indecd, the glass master Poins anon: and they will put on r

(1) Sty. (2) Ill-betide,
(3) An apple that will keep two years,

 

(4) Sneak was a street minstrel: a noise of mue
sicigns anciently signified a concert,Se ke

ee es

 

mi note ee

Anu SECOND PART OF
jerkins, and aprére} and sir dohn must not know
of tt Bardolph hath brought word, tt
1 Draw, By the mass, here will be old utis:! It!

will be un excellent str atage im.
2 Draw. Vl see, if I can find out Sneak. [ait

Enter Hostess and Doll Tcar-sheet.

Host. Pfaith, sweet heart, methinks now you ar¢
in an excellent good temperality: your pulsidg re
beats as extraordinarily as heart y would desire: and
your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose:
But, Piaith, you have d trunk too much canarie S;
aiid that’s a marvellous searching wine, and it per-
fumes the blood ere one can say,—W hat’s this ?
liow do you now?

Doll, Better than Iwas. Hem.

dlost. Why, that’s well said; a good heart’s
worth gold. Look, here comes sir John.

Enter Falstaff, singing.

Fal. When Arthur first in court.—Empty the
jordun.—And was a w orthy king ; [Exit Drawer.
How now, mistress Doll ?

Host. Sick ofa calm: yea, good sooth.

Fal. So is all her sect; an they be once in a

calm, they are sick.

Doll. You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort
you give me ?

Fal. You make fat rascals, mistress Doll.

Doll. 1 make them ! gluttony and diseases make
them; I make them not.

Fal. If the cook help to make the er you
help to make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you,
Doll, we catch of you; grant that, ay poor virtue,
grant that.

Doll. Ay, marry; our chains, and our jewels,

Fal. Your brooches, pears, and owches ;—for to
serve bravely, is tocome halting off, you know: To
come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and
to surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged
chambers? bravely :

Doll, Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang
yourself!

Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you
two never meet, but you full to some discord: you
are both, in good troth, as rhe umatic as two drs
toasts ; you cannot one bear with another’s conlir-
mities. What the good-year !° one must bear, and
that must be you: | 7'o Doll.] you are the weaker
vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.

Doll. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge
full hogshead ? there’s a whole merchant’s venture
of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a
hulk better stufled in the hold.—Come, [ll be
friends with thee, Jack; thou art going to the wers ;
and whether I shall ever see thee again
there is nobody cares.

Re-enter Drawer

Draw. Sir, ancient* Pistol’s be:ow, and would
speak with you.

Doll. Hang him, swaggering rascal! let _-
not come hither: it is the foul-mouth’dst rogue in
England.

Host. If he swagger, let him not come here: no,
by my faith; I must live amongst my neivhbours ;
Ili no swaggerers: I am in good name and fame
with the very best :—Shut the door ;—there comes
no swaggerers here: I have not lived all this while,
to have swaggering now :—Shut the door, I pray
you,

ees’

 

(1) Merry doings. (2) Small pieces of ordnance.
3) Mrs, Quickly’s blunder for seer’, i. €. POX, |
4) Ensign, (5) A blustering, fiehting fellow,

 

RING HENRY IV. Act {},

Fe hs Dos st thot he fi’ , hostess Jam

Host, P ray vou, pac ify yourself, sir John j there
comes no swaggerers® here,

Fel, Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.

Host. Tillysfally, sir John, never tell me; your
jancient swaggerer comes not in my doors, I was
‘before master Tisick, the de sputy, the other day ;

an d, as he said to me,—it was no longer ago than

Wednesday las st,— Nei: rhbour Quick ly, says he ;—
master Dumb, our ministe r, was by then; s=—-Neigh-
bour Quickly, says he, receive those that are civil ;
for, saith he, you are in an ill name ;—now he said
so, | can tell whereupon ; for, says he, you are an

\honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take
heed what guests you receive: Receive, says he,

no swaggering compantons.——There comes none
here ;—you would bless you to hear what he said:

ll no swaeverers,

fal. He’s no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, ®
he ; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy grey-
hound: he will not swagger with a Barbary hen,
if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance.
—Call him up, drawer.

Host. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no
honest man my house, nor no cheater: But Ido
not love swaggering ; by my troth, I am the worse,
when one says—swagger: feel, masters, how I
shake ; look you, I warrant you.

Doll. So you do, hostess, ©

Host. Do I? yea, in ve ry truth, do I, an ’twere
an aspen leaf: I cannot abide sw: aggerers.

Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and Page.

Pist. Save you, sir John!

Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I
charge you Ww ith a cup of sack: do you discharge
upon mine hostess.

Pist. I will discharge upon her, sir John, with

‘

LWO bullet Us
Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly

yffend her.

? ‘ . oS .

Host. Come, Vl drink no proofs, nor no bullets:
nN drink n “6 th: 7

ll drink ne more than will do me good, for no

i
mans pacasure,

_Pist. Then to you, mistress Dorothy; I will
Charye you,

Doll, Charge me? T scorn you, scurvy compa-
nion. What! you poor, base, raseally, cheating,
latk-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away !
| am me at for your mi ister,

I know you, mistress Dorothy.

D. I Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy
bung, away! by this wine, Pll thrust my knife in
your mouldy chaps, an vou play the saucy euttle
with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-
hilt stale juggler, you!—Since when, I pray you,
sir ?—What, with two points’ on your shoulder ?
much! ;

Pist, T wil! murder your ruff for this.

Ful. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go
off here: discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.

Host. No, rood ¢ aptain Pistol ; not here, sweet
captain.

Doll, Captain ! thou abominable damned cheater,
art thou not ashamed to be called—eaptain? If
captains were of my mind, they would truncheon
you out, for taking their names upon you before
you have earned them. You a captain, you slave!
for what? for tearing a poor whore’s ruff in a
bawdy-house ?—He a captain! Hang him, rogue !
(6) Gamester.

(7) Laces, marks of his commusston,
(8) An expression of disdain.Scene lV.

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IY, 421

He lives upon mouldy we ’ .
: uldy slewed prunes, and driedikee , See oe
cakes. A captain! these vill: pe vil id dried| keeping house, afore V’ll be in these tirrits and
word captain as odious ce the weed vt make the/frights. So; murder, I warrant now.——Alas
; 2 P . a oe as the word occupy ; Whichjalas! put up your naked weapons, put up your
as é xcellent good word before it was ill-sort-!naked weapons | Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph
ed: therefore, captains had need look to } S. uxeunt Pistol and Bardolph.
Bard. P Fi plai fie neeG 100K to it, | Doll. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal is
( Gi. 4 F e (Y ry y ‘ . tin - ‘ a ‘
Pal. Hi He iheet ie Hows, are neck nt. gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you.
Pist, Not. tel) . sees ares ' | Host. Are you not hurt i’the groin? methought,
fe NOt A: tell thee what, corporal Bar-'he made a shrewd thrust at your belly.

dolph ;—
Re-enter Bardalph.

I agai ies her :—I’ll be revenged on her.
age. Pray thee, « Wi ‘al, Have you turned hi
Pist. Vilsee 9a SE oy ites ‘—to Pluto’s damn Rant” Ge cy The a ir a hay
her di uto’s damp- dl. Yes, sir. - rascal’s drunk: you have

ed lake, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tor-)hurt him, sir, in the shoulder,
tures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down!| a. A rascal! to brave me!
down, dogs! down, faitors!! Have we not Hiren} o!l. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas,
here 72 poor ape, how thou sweat’st ! Come, let me wipe

Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is yery|thy face;—come on, you whoreson chops:—Ah,
late, faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your|"ogue! VPaith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as

|
|
|

choler. | Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten
Pist. These be good humours, indeed! Shall a better than the nine worthies, Ah, villain!

pack-horses, | al, A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a
And hollow pamper’d jades of Asia, | blanket.
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day, | Dell. Do, if thou darest for thy heart: if thou
Compare with Cesars, and with Cannibals, \dost, Pll canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with Enter music.
King Cerberus; and !ct the welkin roar. | Pare. TI to is ir

age. The music is come, sir.

Shall we fall foul for toys a . ; :
, - “4 .,.|. £#a. Let them play ;—Play, sirs.—Sit on my

Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter : ; :
words eee _ ety DET) knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue
a sy os ve fled from me like quicksilver.
Bard. Be gone, good ancient: this wiil grow Doll. Pfai ‘ ; i
i go oll, Dfaith, and thou followedst him like a
to a brawl anon. es ais ;
. — gos wee, church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew
I ist, Die men, like go¢gs: Five Crowns WUKC DINS? \t...< in sy : . vs ;
cae ded ak tiles Hide f I » boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o’days, and
ave » not ren here <s Tg is ° : 4,
Pe a she Seek foining’ o’nights, and begin to patch up thine old
Host. O’ my word, captain, there’s none such body for heaven? :
_ ' .¢ ; VuUuy U hi ‘ i e
here. What the good-year! do you think I would
; ° ‘ ‘

}

deny her? for God’s sake, be quict. Enter behind, Prinee Henry and Poins, disguised
Pist. Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis 341 like drawers.
Come, give’s some sack. | Fal. Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a
Si fortuna me tormenta, sperato me con-|death’s head: do not bid me remember mine end,
tenta,— | Doll. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of?
Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire: | Fal. A good shallow young fellow: he would
Give me some sack ;—and, sweetheart, lie thou| have made a good pantler, he would have chipped
there. [Li yin down hits sword. | bread we ll.
Come we to full points here; and are et ceteras| Doll. They say, Poins has a good wit.
nothing? | Ful. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his

Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet. }wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard: there is no
Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif:* What! we} more conceit in him, than is in a mallet.
have seen the seven stars. | Doll. Why does the prince love him so then ?
Doll. Thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure} Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness:
such a fustian rascal. land he plays at quoits well; and eats conger and
Pist. Thrust him down stairs! know we not|fennel; and drinks off candles’ ends for flap-dra-
Galloway nags /* 'gons; and rides the wild mare with the boys; and
Fal. Quoit’ him down, Bardolph, like a shove-|jumps upon joint-stools ; and swears with a good
eroat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak|grace; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto
m . . » 1 . . ainlihe : or e
nothing, he shall be nothing here. ithe sign of the leg ; and breeds no bate w ith telling
Bard, Come, get you down stairs. |of disereet stories, and such other gambol faculties
Pist. What! shall we have incision? shall we|he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body,
imbrue ?—— [Snatching up his sword, |tor the which the prince admits him: for the prince
‘Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful| himself is such another ; the weight of a hair will
days !® |turn the scales between their avoirdupols.
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds | P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel have
Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say! his ears cut off '
Host. Here’s goodly stuff toward! Poins. Let’s beat him before his whore.
Fal. Give me my rapier, boy. we ay Lock, if the mires elder hath not
ray thee, Jack -ay thee, do not draw. | his poll clawed like a parrot.
Doll. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. pc ( ,
: ule it wei ats ‘e Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should so
Fal. Get you down stars. nge,
® [ Drawing and driving Pistol out.|many years outlive performance?
les See © Rann ne ed
Host. Here’s a goodly tumult! Vl forswear; 4. Kiss me, Doll. . ; ‘
; | P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunc-
1) Traitors, rascals ition! what says the almanac to that?
‘ OTs, TdscCab. : /
2) A quotation from a play of G, Peele’s. | j
5 . . iis o
8) Blunder for Hannibal. 3
> al’ @ lina | » Rs > of Aleasar, an! (7) Throw.
4) Parody of a line in the Battle of Alcasar, an|
; | (9) Thrusting.

(
) Fist. (6) Common hacknies.

( (8) Part of an ancient song.
old play.Be wk

ae

4

Sieh italien)

es

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
    
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
     

Sa leetiieD ederee

Pe pee

 

crnlentnysac lag he teh an mache snaps

422 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. Act III.

Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon,' his| where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For
man, be not lisping to his master’s old tables; his the boy,—there is a good ange] about him; but

note-book, his counsel-keeper. ithe devil outbids him too.
Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. | PP. Hen. For the women,——
Doll. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a mostcon-| Fal. For one of them,—she 1s in hell already,
stant heart. ‘and burns, poor soul! For the other,—I owe her
Fal. 1 am old, I am old. imoney; and whether she be damned for that, I
Doll. I love thee better than I love e’cr a scurvy know not.
young boy of them all. | Host. No, I warrant you.

Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle? of? I shall} Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art
receive money on Thursday: thou shalt have a cap/|quit for that: Marry, there is another indictment
to-morrow. A merry song, come: it grows late,|upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy
we'll to bed. Thow lt forget me, when I am gone. |house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think,

Doll. By my troth, thou’lt set me a weeping, an|thou wilt howl.
thou sayest so: prove that ever dress myself hand-| fest. All victuallers do so: What's a joint of
some till thy return. ——Well, hearken the end. | mutton or two in a whole Lent?

Fal. Some sack, Francis. | PP. Hen, You, gentlewoman,——

P. Hen, Poins. Anon, anon, sir. [.2dvancing.| Doll. What says your grace?
Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king’s—And art} Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels

not thou Poins his brother ? against.
P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents,| J1ost. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the
what a life dost thou lead ? door there, Francis.
Fal. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, Enter Peto.
thou art a drawer. | i Ne » ;
P. Hen. Very true, sir; and I come to draw P. Hen. Peto, how now? whatnews? —
you out by the cars | Peto. The king, your father, is at Westminster ;

Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by \nd the re are twenty weak and wearied posts,
my troth, welcome to London.—Now the Lord ome ror -_ a and, as I came along,
bless that swect face of thine! O Jesu, are you I me , ene overtook, a dozen captains,
come from Wales? " Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,

Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majes- And asking every one for sir John Falstaff,
ty,—by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art P. eo By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to
welcome. [Leaning his hand upon Doll. Cn 3a eres

Doll. How! you fat fool, | scorn you. SO idly to prolane the precious time ;

Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your WW hen te mpest of commotion, like the south,
revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,

not the heat. 2 an drop upon our bare unarmed heads,
P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you; how|“!Ye me m) sword, and cloak:—Falstaff, good
vilely did you speak of me cven now, before this mught. :
: He pes “— [Exe. P. Henry, Poins, Peto, and Bardolp!
honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman ! ‘ok is N ae 19 2 UR) = ey BOP
Host. ’Blessing o’your good heart! and so she} .*,“" **)'¥ Comes in the sweetest morsel of the
is, by my troth f nicht, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked.
Fal. Didst thou hear me? [Knocking heard.] More knocking at the door?
P. Hen. Yes; and you knew me, as you did Re-enter Bardolph.

when you ran away by Gads-hill: you knew, I) f{fow now? what’s the matter ?
was at your back; and spoke it on purpose totry} Rard. You must away to court. sir presently ;
> wetlmied : peer 2
my patie - e. ; ; |A dozen captains stay at door for you.
Fal, No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou; Fal, Pay the musicians, sirrah. | To the Page. ]J—
va yng cone ‘ : 4 Farewell, hostess ;—Farewell, Doll.—You see, my
. Hen. shi ‘ive you then to confess the _ venche wien af serie an”
ier ahaa a Cre poe Bre ; y Ss the cood wenches, how men of merit are sought after:
wilful abuse ; and then I know how to handle you. |the undescrver may sleep, when the man of actior
Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour; no abuse. |js ealled on. Farewell, good wenches: If] : ,
P. te Not! lin tiat a te . i en, g ches ; re not
. Cn. Ivo; 0 CGISPraist me; and cali nme— sent awav post, I will see You again ere ] TO
pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what?) Dol/. I cannot speak :—If my heart be not reede
rw ene Rneh Hal. \to burst: —Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
ror nN i ’ a ae ts la: } gin Fal. Farewell, farewell. [Eze. Fal. and Bard.
al. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned,} Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee
none. [I dispraised him before the wicked, that the| these twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but
wicked might not fallin love with him:—in which|an honester, and trucr-hearted man.—Wel] f
‘ = i « ‘ sf 4 ‘4 ‘ ‘ : Ra . & <2 : a “e
doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and| thee well ee
a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks} Bard. [Within.] Mistress Tear-sheet,——
~ T ¢ , * . % y > »,* | : % Pager : ? : , 3 ?
for it. No abuse, Hal;—none, Ned, none ;—no,| Host,: What’s the matter ?
boys, none.

Bard. | Within.] Bid mistress Tcar-she
E ard, thin, I istre: ar-sheet com
P. Hen. See, now, whether pure fear, and €N-|to mv master o—

lire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this vir-|
tuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is she of the|
wicked ? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or|
is the boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph,|
whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked ? | AUT Hil.

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. ae

Fal, The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph ir-|5¢ ENE I.—A room in the palace. Enter King
recoverable; and his face is Lucifer’s privy kitchen, Henry, in his night-gown, witha Page,

~

| K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey
(1) An astronomical term. (2) A short cloak. Warwick ; a

Host. O run, Doll, run; run, good Doll. [Eze.

eoScene I.

 

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IY. 429

reer wis pa mete 4 em cera these letters,| When Richard,—with his eye orimfull of tears,
el consider of them: Make good speed.——| hen check’d and rated by Northumberland,—
[Exit Page.|Did speak these words, now prov’d a prophecy ?

How many thousands of my poorest subjects |Vorthumberland, thou ladder, by the which
Are at this hour asleep '—Sleep, gentle sleep, My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne ;—

Nature’s solt nurse, how have I {righted thee, | Uhough then, heaven knows, I had no such intent ;
hat thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, |But that necessity so bow’d the state,

And steep my senscs in forgetfulness ? That I and greatness were compell’d to kiss: ——

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, | I'he time shall come, thus did he follow it,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, |The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,

And hush’d with buzzing nicht-flies to thy slumber; | Shall break into corruption :—so went on,

Phan In the perfum’d chambers of the great, l’oretelling this same time’s condition,

Under the canopies of costly state, |And the division of our amity.

And lull’d with sounds of sweetest melody ? |_ War. There is a history in all men’s lives,
UO thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, Figuring the nature of the times deceas’d:
In loathsome beds: and leav’st the kingly couch, |’ he which observ’d, a man may prophesy,
A watch-case, or a common ’larum bell ? With a near aim, of the main chance of things
reas 4 . @0 . “n a ° ®
Wilt thou upon the hich and giddy mast \s vet not come to life; which in their seeds
Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains And weak begmnings, lie intreasured,
tin nite melas ed Such things ; :
In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; Such things become the hatch and brood of time ;

And in the visitation of the winds, And, by the necessary form of this,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top, ing Richard might create a perfect guess,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them | That great Northumberland, then false to him,
With deaf’ning clamours in the slippery clouds, | Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness ;
That, with the hurly,' death itself awakes ? Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Canst thou, O partial sleep! cive thy repose Unless on you.

To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; Kk. Hen. Are these things then necessities 7
And, in the calmest and most stillest night Then let us meet them like necessities :—

With all appliances and means to boot {nd that same word even now cries out on us;
Deny it toa king? Then, happy low,? lie down! | They say, the bishop and Northumberland
Uncasy lies the head that wears a crown. Are fifty thousand strong.

,

’

‘_ . ss ear. It cannot be, my lord;

Enter Warwick and Surrey. Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
War. Many good morrows to your majesty! The numbers of the fear’d :—Please it your grace,
K. Hen. 1s it good morrow, lords? : To go to bed: upon my life, my lord,
Wear. ’Tis one o’clock, and past. The powers that you already have sent forth,
K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my Shall bring this prize in very easily.

lords. _ ' |To comfort you the more, I have receiv’d
Have you read o’cr the letters that I sent vou ? \ certain instance, that Glendower is dead.

War. We have, my licze. Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill ;
K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our \nd these unseason’d hours, perforce, must add

kingdom Unto your sickness.
How foul it is: what rank diseases crow, K. Hen. I will take your counsel :
And with what danger, near the heart of it. (nd, were these inward wars once out of hand,
War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper’d ; We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [Exe,
Which to his former strensth n e restor’d, SCENE II.—Court before Justice Shallow’s house,

With good advice, and little medicine :——
My lord Northumb ‘rlan i will soon be co Vd.
K. Hen. O heaven! that one might read the book
of fate:
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent

in Gloucestershire. Enter Shallow and Silence,

meeting ; Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bull-

calf, and servants, behind.

Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your
hand, sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer,

(Weary of solid firmness) melt itself by the rood. And how doth my good cousin, Si-
nto the sea! and, other times, to see lence ?
no ine Ls ;

The'beachy girdle of the ocean | Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Too wide for Neptune’s hips; how chances mock,| Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow ?
And changes fill the cup of alteration and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daugh-
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, iter Ellen? ‘

The happiest youth,—viewing his progress through,| Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

What perils past, what crosses to ensue,— _ Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. |William is become a good scholar: He is at Ox-

’Tis not ten years gone, ford still, is he not ?

Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,! Sil. Indeed, sir, to my cost.

Did feast together, and, in two years after, Shal. He must then to the inns of courts shortly:
1 & bee > “e ,. Ys . : — "lamp Ic . rhpre i c

Were they at wars: It is but cight years, since [ was once of Clement’s-Inn ; where, I think, they

This Percy was the man nearest my soul ; will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Who like a brother toil’d in my afiairs, | Sil. You were called—lusty Shallow, then,
e . — eS + lor , 1 + « in usin.
And laid his love and life under my foot ; cou i
: 4. for my sake, cven to the eyes of Richard, | Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and
ca, lt my ety ae ee ave > any i inde c
Gave hin defiance. But whicn of you was by, I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundl

You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember, ) ‘too. There was I, and little John Doit of Stafford-
(sone ; : {Y'o Warwick. | shire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone,

(1) Norse. (2) Those in lowly situations, (3) Cross.

, 4Sn ei

   
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
     
   
    
   
   
   
   
  
 
   
 
  
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
 
  
   

Metis pwc

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Hii
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~

424 SECOND PART

and Will Squele, a Cotswold man,—you had not
four such swing-bucklers! in all the inns of court
again: and I may say to you, we knew where the
bona-robas? were; and had the be st of { them all at
Then was Jack Falstafl, now sir
John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke

commandment.

of Norfolk.

Sil. This sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon

about soldiers ?
Shal, The same sir John, the

f ‘ hi .
him break Skogan’s head at the court-gate, when

he was a crack,’ not thus high;
day did I fight with one Sampson Stockxfish, a frui
erer, behind Gray’s-Inn. O, the mad-days that

have spent! and to see how many of mine ol
quaintances are dead !

Sil, We shall all follow, cousin

Shal. Certain, ’tis certain ; very sure, very su

death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all;
shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at
ford fair?

Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain.—Is old Double of you

town living yet ?

Sil. Dead, sir.

Shal. Dead !—See, see!—he drew a good b
And dead!

—he shot a fine shoot :—John of G

loved him well, and betted ‘much mon y on. his

head. Dead!—he would have clapped ithe clor
at twelve score ;* and carried you a forehand sh
a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it woul
have done a man’s heart good to see.—H
of ewes now ?

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewe:

may be worth ten pounds

Shal. And is old Double dead?

Enter Bardolph, and one wit/t

Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstafl’s men.

as I think.

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I be

}

seech you, which is kee e Shallow ?
Shal. | ‘am Robert Shallow. sir: a poor «

of this county, and one of the king’s justices of th

peace: What is your good pleasure with me ?
Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to 3
my captain, sir John Falstaff: a tall* gentlen
by heaven, and a most gallant leader
“Shal. He greets me well, sir; 1 knew him
good backsword man: How doth the good knig]
may I ask, how my lady his | wife doth ?
Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is bett
dated, than with a wife.

Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir: and it is wel

said, indeed, too, Better accommodated !—it
good; yea, indeed, it is: good phrases are sure!

and ever Tere, very comme! dable. Accomm

dated '—it comes from acconwnodo: very rood:
cood phrase,

Bard. Pardon me, sir;
Phrase, call you it? By thi
the phrase :
sword, to b
ceeding good command.

but I will maintain t
a soldier-like word, and :
Accomm “1: that]

when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or,
when a man is,—being,—whereby,—he may}
thought to be accommodated ; whi

thing.
Enter Falstaff.

Shal, It is very just :—Look, here come: 00

ta Rakes, or rioters.

(2) Ladies of pleasure. (3) Boy.

and the very sam¢

I have heard the word.

s good day, I know not

si
Ih
+ the

 

KING HENRY LY. Act Ul,

ir John.—Give me your good hand, give me your
worship’s good hand:
and bear your years very well :

By) my troth, ‘you look well,
welcome, good sir

John.

Robert S

commission W

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master
hallow :—Master Sure-card, as I think.
Shal. No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in
ith me.

Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you

hould be of the peace.

Si. You ood worship is welcome.
ili Fie! this is hot weather.——Gentlemen,

» you provided me here half a dozen sufficient

Shal, ED have we, sir. Will you sit?
» them, I beseech you.

Wi here’s the roll ? where’s the roll? where’s
band sl see, let me see. So, 80, S80, 50;
marry, sil a viph Mouldy - Jet the tn ap-

ras I call; i { th em do so, le t them do so,——
et me see: Whe s Mouldy ?

Moul. Here, ant sl ase you.

Shal. What think you, sir John? a good-limbed
low: young, strong, and of good friends,

Fel, Is thy name Mouldy?
Yea, an’t please you.

the more time thou we rt used.

, Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, faith! things
mouldy, lack use: Very singular good !—
In faith, well said, sir John; very well said.
Mal. Prick him {To Shallow,
pricked well enough before, an you
lav mt me: my old dame will be un-

vy, for one to do her husbandry, and her
ery : you need not to have pricked me ; there

‘e other men fitter to go out than I.
‘al ace, Mouldy, youshall go. Moul-

. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; Know
u where you are !/—For the other, sir John :—let
ee :—Simon Snadow!

lal, Ay marry, let me have him to sit under;
Ig | ‘cold soldier.

Where’s Shadow ?

Here, sir.
Fal, Shadow, whose son art thou?

O DS & «

. Viv mother’s son, sir.
Fal. Thy mother’s son! like enough; and thy
’ dow: so the son of the fe male is the

low of the m if It is often so, indeed; but
t ch of > fa *s substance.
Do von li ie Sie, sir John?
Fal. Shadow willserve for summer,—prick him ;
—{for we have a number of shadows to fill up the
bil ‘ “Li bie
i !.. Thomas Wart!
Fal Where's be?
hy t. Ete i
Is thy ie Wart?
t. Yea,
Thou art a very ragged wart.
Shall I prick him, sir John ?
re superfluous ; for his apparel is built
k, and the whole frame stands upon
prick Nim no more.
. Ha, ha, ha!—you can do it, sir; you can
I commend you well.—Franceis Feeble !
Tiere, s]
Wh trade art thou, Feeble ?
i‘ee. A woman’s, tailor, sir.
(4) Hit the white mark at twelve score yards,

(9) Brave.Scene LI. SECOND PART UF KING HENRY IV. 425

Shal. Shall I prick him, sir? | Bull. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand
Fal. You may: but if he had been a man’s tailor,) my friend ; and here is four Harry ten shillings in
he would have pricked you.—Wilt thou make as|French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, [had
many holes in an enemy’s battle, as thou hast done/as lief be hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine

in a woman’s petticoat ? yw part, sir, 1 do not care; but, rather, because
Fee. 1 willdo my good will, sir; you can have'! am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a de-

no more. sire to svay With my friends; else, sir, I did not care,
Fal. Well said, good woman’s tailor! well said;|for inine own part, so much.

courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the Bard. Go to; stand aside.

wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse.—| oul. And, good master corporal captain, for

Prick the woman’s tailor well, master Shallow ;;my old dame’s sake, stand my friend: she has ho-

deep, master Shallow. body to do any thing about her, when | am gone:
Fee. 1 would, Wart might have gone, sir. und she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall
Fal. 1 would, thou wert a man’s taltlor: that thou! have forty, sir.

micht’st mend him, and make ham fit togo. I can- Bard. Go to; stand aside.

not put him to a private soldier, that is the leade1 Fee. By my troth, I care not int man can die

of so many thousands: Let that sullice, most for-|but once ;—we owe God a death ;—Vll ne’er bear

cible Feeble. a base mind:—an’t be my Nasa, so ;—an’t be
Fee. It shall suffice, sir. not, so: No man’s too good to serve his prince;
Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.—/and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this
Who is next? year, is quit for the next.
Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the ¢recn! Bard. Well said; thou’rt a good fellow.
Fal. Yea, marry, let us see buil-calf. Fee. "Faith, Pll bear no base mind.

Bull. Here, Sir. Re-enter Falsta

os ] stolen
. : “1 . alstafl, and Justices,
Fal. ’Fore*God, a likely fellow !—Come, prick ustall, Justice

pane: 420k kn ws . aoa 7. ’ } hie] i

ee i ii peg, ae Ful. Come, sir, which men shall I have ?

te fi ee g00 . may . a] co a ee Sh | our, ol whic h you please

_e at, GOSt tn bu Foal etort WOU GPE PPICKCa: Bard, Sir, a wore with ye su:—I have three pound

Bull, U lord, Sit I Lin @& CISeas l man. to free Mouldy and Bull-calf.

Fal. What disease hast thou? Fal. Go to; well.

Bull. A whores nm Cold, sir: @ cough, Sir; whicn Sdbhai. Come, sir John, 1 iy hich four Wi ill you have ?
I caught with ringing in the king’s affairs, upon hi Fal. Do you choose for me.
coronation day, sir. Shal. .Mirry then;—-Modidy, Butiohealt. faeiiie,

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars Ina gown; /and Shadow

°f =. _ ar oe + atl > Han t oral} tule sic} . ?} - _ » . 2 :
we will have away thy cold; dnd I will take such) Fyl, Mouldy, and Bull-calf:—For you, Mouldy,
order, that thy friends shall ring lor thee.—is here tav at home ill: you are past service: and, for

? ee .. t ‘
all ? your part, Bull-calt-grow till you come unto it;
Shal. Here is two more called than your num-'f[ wil] none of vou. :
basi Cot Fence tant Gk icaAnn. | | Ql : r 1
ber; you must have but four here, sir ;—and so, 1) Shal, Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong:
pray you, go in with me to dinner, they are your lik lie st men, and I would have you

Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I can-|served with the best.
not tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good) Fal, Will y rut “ me, master Shallow, how to
troth, master Shallow. choose a m an 2 |] for the limb, the t thewes, the
Shal. O, sir John, do you remember since we|stature, bulk, and bie iene aman! Give
lay all night in the windmill in St. Geor: ’s-fields?\me the spirit, master Shallow.—Here’s Wart ;—
Fal. No more of that, good master Shallow, nolyou see what a ragged appearance itis: he shall

more of that. charee you, and discharge you, with the motion of

Shal. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane|a pewterer’s hammer; come off, and on, swifter
Night-work alive ? than he that gibbets-on the brewer’s bucket. And

Fal. She lives, master Shallow. this same hal{-fae’d fellow, Shadow,—give me this

Shal, She never could away with me. man: he presents no mark to the enemy: the foe-

Fal. Never, never: she would always say, she ty,.n! may with as creat aim level at the edge ofa
could not abide master Shallow. en-knife: And, for a retreat,—how swiftly will

Shal. By the mass, [I could anger her to the|this Feeb!e, the woman’s tailor, run off! O, give
heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold) me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.—
her own well? Put me a ealiver? into Wart’s hand, Bardolph.

Fal. Old, old, master Shallow. Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse ;3 thus, thus, thus,

Shal. Nay, she must be old: she cannot choose Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So:—very
but be ol 5 certain, she’s old; and had Robin | weil:—go to:—very cood:—exceeding good.—O,
Night-work by «ld Night-work, before [ came tO) ive me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald
Clement’ s-Inn. iot.4—Well said, faith, Wart; thou art a good

Sil. That’s fifty-five year azo. cab: hold, there’s a tester for thee.

Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen| Sha!, He is not his ecrafi’s-master, he doth not do
that that this knight and I have seen!—Ha, sir}jt right. J remember at Mile-end green (when I
John, said I well? ae 4 lay at Clement’s-Inn,—I was then sir Dagonet, in

Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight,|/Arthur’s show,’) there was a little quiver fellow,
master Shallow. ind ’a would manage you his piece thus: and ’a

Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have ;|;would about, and about, and come you in, and
in faith, sir John, we h ive ; our watch-word was,|come you in: raft, tah, tah, would ’a say; bounce,
Hem, boys I—C. ame, let’s to dinner; come, let’s|\ould’a say; and away again would ’a go, and
to dinner:—O, the days that we have seen!—j,vain would ’a come:—lI shall never see such a
Come, come. [Eze. Falstafl, Shallow, and Silence. | fellow.

(1) Enemy. (2) Gun, (3) Mareh (4) Shooter. (5) An exhibition of archery
3

   
  
  
 
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
    
 
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
    

Te ipa

anee

EE RTE SERIE

 

  
    
   
  
 
   
 
 
   
 
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
 
  
    
  
 
   
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
   
 
  
    
   
  
    
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
  

cna ee geet

426 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.

Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shal-|As might hold sortance* with his quality,
low.—God keep you, mastcr Silence; ! will not/The which he could not levy ; whereupon
nse many words with you:—Fare you wel , gentle-| He is retir’d, to ripe his growing fortunes,
inen both: I thank you: I must a dozen mile to-'To Scotl: ind: and concludes in hearty prayers,
night.—Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. That your attempts may overlive the hazard,
Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper/And fearful meeting of their opposite.
your affairs, and send us pe ace! AS you return,; Wowb. Thus do ths hopes we have in him touch
visit my house; let our old acquaintance be re- ground, :
newed : peradventure, I will with you to the court. | And dash themselves to pieces.
Fal. 1 would you would, master Shallow. Enter «
Shal. Go to; I have spoke, at a word. ri You! rast, Now, what news?
ag ; ort Shallow andwsilence.| “y4e5¢. West of this fore ‘st, scarcely off a mile
Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. ree Bar- In goodly form comes on fhe enemy : ’
coteuls tek hat ade in ua oir titeee And, b) the ground the) y hide, I judge their nu mber,
, , Sivaltnw. Upon, or near, the rate of thirt y thousand.
ae Mow b, The just proportion that we gave them
oul,
I.et us sway on, and face them in the field.

Act ly,

t Messenger.

justices: I do sce the bottom of Justice
Lord, lord, how‘subject we old men are to this
vice of lying! This same starved justice hath done
nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his
youth, ‘and the feats he hath done about Turnbull- Euter Westmoreland.

strect ;! and every third word a lie, duer paid to| rch. What well-appointed’ leader fronts us
the hearer than the Turk’s tribute. I do remem here ?

ber him at Clement’s-Inn, like a man made aft M ob, I think, it is my lord of Westmoreland.

supper of a cheesc-paring: when he was naked, he| FV est. Health and fair greeting from our general,
was, for all the world, like a fo a ( radish, with a|The prince, lord John and ey of Lancaster.
head fantastically carved ads it witha knife: he} rch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland,
was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick peace ; :

sight were invisible: he was the very eenius of| What doth concern your coming ?

famine ; yet lecherous as a monkey, andthe whores| West, ~ Then, my lord,
called him—mandrake: he came ever in the rear-| Unto vour grace do I in chief address

ward of the fashion; and sung, those tunes to the/The substance of my speech. If that rebellion

over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen|Came like itself, in base and abject routs,

whistle, and sware—t! wey wert his fancies, or his Le don DY bloody youth, Tus irded with rage,

good-nights.2, And now Is this Vice’s dagger® be-! And « ‘ounte nane’d by boys, and beggary

come a squire and 1: ills 5 bamMinariy aa ‘ lohn ol|[ s ay, if dan in d commotion so appear “4,

Gaunt, as if he had bee hn sworn broth« I » him : In his tr ie. ni itive , ane a most proper shape,

and Ill be sworn he never saw him but once in the) You, reverend father, and these noble lords,

Tilt-yard ; and then he burst* his head, for « crowd- Hi d not been here, to dress the ugly form

Ing among the marshal’s men. i saw it; and told ){ base and bloody insurrection

John of Gaunt, he beat his own name: ~ you i - a Your fair honours. You, lord archbishop,—

might have truss’d him, and all his apparel, into an| W} see is by a civil peace maintain? ‘d:

ecl-skin ; the case of a treble hautboy was a man-| Whose beard the silver hand of peace hi ith touch’ d;

sion for him, a court; and now has he yan 1d and! W] nose learnine ant | good lette rs pe ace hi: are d:

beeves. Well ; I will be 8 rage with him, if! Whose white investments ficure innocence

I return: and it shall go hard, I will coke him!|The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,

a philosopher’s two stones to me: Ifthe young dace} Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself,

be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason, in the|Out of the speech of neue e, that bears sue h grace,
= sini . . ’ . E >

law of nature, but I may snap al him. Let time/Into the harsh and boist’rous toneue of war?

books t 9 graves, your ink to blood,

shape, and there an end. | Exit.) Turning your
your pens to lances; and your tongue divine

—————— To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?
bu es Jirch. Wherefore do I this?—so the question
Oy a Le stands
stand
38 Sue 4 . ® . caenaal .
SCENE I.— 4 forest in Yor Eco Enter the Briefly he this end :—We are all diseas’d ;
: .y 4s ( vit! ,
archbishop of York, Mowbray, Hastings, and And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours,
others. . ' Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,

And we must bleed for it: of which disease
|Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
Hast. ’Tis Gualtree forest, an’t shall please} But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland,
your grace. {IT take not on me here as a physician ;
-Irch. Here stand ‘ lords; and send disco-| Nor do I as an enemy to peace,
roren# hati” ‘| military men:
To know the numbers of our enemies. But, rathiee, how a while like fearful w ar,
Hast. We have sent forth already. To diet rank minds, sick of happiness:

Arch. What is this forest call’d ?

roop m ‘ throngs o

Arch, Tis well done.| And purg the obstructions, whi h begin to stop
My friends, and brethren in these ereat affairs, Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv’d I have in equal balance justly weigh’d :
New-dated letters from Northumberland ; |What wrongs our arms mi iy do, what wrongs we
Their cold intent, tenour and substance, thus:— | suffe .
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers }And find our criefs* heavier than our offences.
i

|
(1) In Clerkenwell. | (2) Titles of little poems.| (4) Broke. (5) Gaunt is thin, slender.
(3) A wooden dagger like that used by the| (6) 1 se suitable. (7) Completely accoutred,
modern harlequin, (8) Grievances,

QVSeene J,

We see which way the stream of time doth run,
And are enfore’d from our most quiet sphere

By the rough torrent of occasion :

And have the summary of all our griefs,

When time shall serve, to show in articles ;
Which, long ere this, we offer’d to the king,

And might by no suit gain our audience :

When we are wrong’d, and would unfold our criefs,
We are denied access unto his person,
Even by those men that most have done us wrong.
The dangers of the days but newly rone, :
(Whose memory is written on the earth

With yet appearing blood,) and the examples

Ol every minute’s instance, (present now, )

Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms:

Not to break peace, or any branch of it;
But to establish here a peace indeed,

Concurring both in name and quality,

West. When ever yct was your appeal denied ?
Wherein have you been galie: by the king ?
What peer hath been suborn’d to crate on vou?
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forg’d rebellion with a seal divine, —

And consecrate commotion’s bitter edee ?

“Irch. My brother ceneral, the commonwealth.

To brother born a household eruelts :
I make my quarrel in particular. ~

West. There is no need of any such redr:
Or, if there were, it not belones to you

Mowb. Why not to him, in p
That feel the bruises of the davs before
And suffer the condition of these times
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours ?

West. O my good lord Mowbray,
Construe the times to their necessities,
And you shall say indeed,—it is the time

And not the king, that doth you injuries.

Yet, for your part, it not appears to me,

Fither from the king, or in the present time,

That you should have an inch of any ground

To build a grief on: Were you not restor’d

To all the duke of Norfolk’s sicniorie

Your noble and right-well-remember’d father’s ?
Mow. What thine, in honour, had my father lost,

That need to be reviv’d, and breath’d in me?

“he king, that lov’d him, as the state stood then,

Was, force perforce, compell’d to banish him:

And then, when Harry Bolingbroke, and he,—

;

i

Being mounte 1, and both rous’d in their seats,
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
Their armed staves’ in charge, their beavers? down,
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights? of steel,
And the loud trumpet blowing them together ;
Then, then, when there was nothing could have staid
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
O, when the king did throw his warder* down
His own life hung upon the staff he threw:
Then threw he down himself; and all their lives,
That, by indictment, and by dint of sword,
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know

not what:
The earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman ;
Who knows, on whom fortune would then
smil’d ?

put, if your father had been victor there,
He ne’er had borne it out of Coventry:
For all the country, in a general voice,

{
‘
1

}

lave

(1) Lances. (2) Helmets.
(3) The eye-holes of helmets. (4) runcheon.
(5) Think too highly. (6) Sight.

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 427

\Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers, and

| ove,
| Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless’d, and grae’d indeed, more than the king.
But this is mere digression from my purpose.—
| Here come I from our princely general,
T’o know your griefs ; to tell you from his grace,
That he will give you audience: and wherein
It shall appear that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them ; every thing set off,
That might so much as think you enemies.
‘Mow. But he hath fore’d us to compel this
ofler :
\nd it proceeds from policy, not love.

| JFest. Mowbray, you overween,' to take it so;

This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
lor, lo! within a ken,® our army lies ;
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ;
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good :—
Say you not then, our offer is compell’d.
ow). Well, by my will, we shall admit no
parley.
iest. That argues but the shame of your offence:
\ rotten ease abides no handling.
last. Hath the prinee John a full commission,
In ve ry ample virtue of his father,
To hear, and absolutely to determine
Of what conditions we shall stand upon?
Hest. That is intended’ in the general’s name:
I muse,® you make so slight a question.
“Irch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this
schedule ;°
‘or this contains our general grievances :—
ach several article herein redress’d ;
\!l members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew’d to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form:
And present execution of our wills
To us, and to our purposes, consign’d ;
We come within our awful banks?!° again,
(nd kns our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I show the general. Please you,
lords,
[In sight of both our battles we may meet:
(nd either end in peace, which heaven so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.
Arch. My lord, we will do so.
[Exit West.
Mow). There isa thing within my bosom, tells me,
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Hast. Year you not that: if we can make our
peace
Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
(s our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains,
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice,!! and wanton reason,
Shall, to the king, taste of this action:
That, were our royal faiths’? martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow’d with so rough a wind,
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.
JIrch. No, no, my lord; Note this,—the king iz
weary

7) Understood. (8) Wonder. (9) Inventory,
10) Proper limits of reverence.
l

1) Trival, (12) The faith due to a king,

|

A
.%CEA You REA Le

‘Sn

 

428 SECOND PART

Of dainty and such picking! grievances
For he hath found,—to end one doubt
Revives two greater in the heirs of life.
And therefore will he wipe his tabl
And keep no tell-iale to his met Lory,

That may repeat and history his loss

To new remembrance: for "i We a he

He cannot so precisely weed this la
As his misdoubts present occasion :

His foes are so enrooted with his fii nds

That, plucking to, unfix an enemy,

He doth unfasien so, aud shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wile,

pide

That hath enrag’d him on to offer stro!

a lees a isirsrucr. | hs
As hie is strilan xi holds his

~~

And hangs resolv’d correction in the arm

That was uprear’d to execution,

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted :
On late offenders, that he now doth lael
The very instruments of chastisement:
So that his power, like to a fungless lio:
May offer, but not hold.

Arch. Tis very true

And therefore be assur’d, my wood
If we do now make our atonement v
Our peace will, like a broken limb unite
Grow stronger for the breaking

Mowb, Be it

Here is return’d my lord of Westmorela:

Re-enter Westmoreland.
West. The prince is here at hand: PI

lordship,

To meet his grace just distance ’tiveen oura

Mowb. Your grace of York, in

Pee 1
set toriwardad,

Arch. Before, and greet his grace :—my

we come,

SCENE I7.— Another part of the for

frome one side. Mowbr: Ly, the Archbisho}

ings, and others; from the oth

John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, offi

attendants
P. John. You are well encounter’d
cousin Mowbray :—
Good day to you, gentl ee d archbishoy

And so to you, lord Ha —and to all.-

My lord of York, it bett sah wuld ith

Vhen that your flock, assembled by the |

Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your exposition on the holy text;
Than now to see vou here an iron man,
Cheering a rout of neh is with vour drurt
Turning the word to sword, and life to ¢
That man, hat sits w hia 4 monarch’s |]
And ripens: in the su Ain of his favour,
Would h ¥ alias ihe countenance of t]

Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroa
Teaco of such greatness! With yon, loy

It is even so:—Who hath not heard

}

How deep you were within the books of Gi

To us, the spe aker in his parliament ;
Tous, the imagin’d voice of G i hin
The very opener, and intelligencer,

Between the grace, the sanctities of heave

And our dull workings:* O, who shall b

But you misuse the reverence of your place ;

Employ the countenance and crace of he

As a false favourite doth his prince’s name,

Piddling, insignificant.

)
3} Book yt nemorandum

a

Clad in armour, (4) Labours of t

   

KING HENRY IY. Act IV.

In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken up,
nder the counterfeited zeal of God,

The subjeets of his substitute, my father ;

And, both against the peace of heaven and him,

Have here up-swarm’d them.

Arch. Good my lord of Lancaster,

am not here against your father’s peace:

B ul, | ns I told my lord of Westmoreland,

The time misorder’d doth, in common sense,

Crowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form,

To hold our safety up. I sent your grace,

The parcels and particul: rs of our grief ;

The which hath been with seorn shov’d from the

cour i
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born:

|

W hose dangerous eyes may well be charm’d asleep,

With grant of our most just and right desires ;
\nd true obedience of this madness cur’d,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
Mow. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man. : ;
Hast. And though we here fall down :
i

‘Ve have supplies to second our attempt ;

if they miscarry, theirs shall second them:

\nd so, success® of mischief shall be born ;
> ;
i

And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shall have generation.

P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much

too shallow,
l‘o sound the bottom of the after-times.
jVest. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them
direeth ‘
fur forth you do Itke their articles ?
John. I like them all, and do allow’ them
wall
\ here b honour of my blood,
purposes have been mistook ;
And some about him have too lavishly
y rested meaning, and authority.—
ly lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress’d ,
yn my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
yischarge your powers® unto their several coun-
t ;
s we will ours: and h » between the armies
et’s drink together friend ly, and embrace ;
hat all their eyes may hear those tokens home,
’f our restored love, and amity.

/irch., I take your princely word for these re-
ah

Tatas : oa ; an : 2% .
P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my

\ rd:
| thereupon I drink unto your grace.
Hast. ( , captain, [| Zo an officer.) and deliver
>in rmy
n of peace ; let them have pay, and part;

know, it will well please them: Hie thee, caps
tai, [| Exit Officer.

) ry
: lo you, my noble lord of We stmoreland,
i ; T ot lone «6% i. - .
a i pledge your grace: And, if you knew
what pains
} : } , =P ~ , a
ive bestow’d, to breed this present peace,

would drink freely: but my love to you

'l show itself more openly hereafter.
“rch. | do not doubt you.

West ' I am glad of it,—
S atl to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mow bray.
Me ou wish me health in very happy sea

for lam, on the sudden, something ill,

Cc ano mcn are eyer merry ;
\ Ss loreruns the good event

(6) Succession,
C. (8) Forces.of. rytt A i ‘
y esl, [here iore be merry, COZ: wince sudde
sorrow
Serves to say thus,—Some good thing come
morrow,

“rch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit,

‘Mow. So much the worse, if your own rule b
true, ~ [Shouts within.

P. John. The word of peace is render’d ; Hark,
how they shout!

Mows. This iis id been cheerful, after victory.
-irch. A peace is of th > nature of a conaue
For then both ps irti es nobly are subdued

And neither party loser.
P, John. Go, my lord
And, let our army be discharged too.—

And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains!
March by us; that we may peruse the men
We should have cop’d withal.
Arch. Go, good lor d Hastings,
And, ere they be dismiss’d, let them n arch by.
av it Hastings.
P, John. 1 trust, my lords, we | lie to-nizht
together. —

Re-enter Westmoreland.

Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army stil] ?

West. The leaders, having charge from you t
stand,

Will not gro off until th \ hear you speak.
| a Joha i. They know Loeir aulit

Re-enter Hastings.
Hast. My lord, our army is dispers’d already :

Like youthful steers? unyok’d, they take their
courses

. ; ee } | om wee

East, west, north, south; or, like a school bi oke up,

Each hurries toward his home, and sportine-place.

West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings ; for th
which
I do arrest thee, traitor, of hich treason :—
And you, lord archbishop,—and you, lord Mowbray
Of capil tal treason I attach you both.
Dione b. Is this proceeding just and hon
West. Is your assembly }
Zirch. Will you thus break your faith ?
P. John. rwn'd t

I promis’d you

edress of these same grievances,

Whereof you did complain; which, by mine henour,

I will perform with a most Christian cai

But, for you, rebels,—l to taste the duc
Meet for rebelli yn, and SUK uC yours
Most shallow! y did you tive rms comment

Fondly? brought here, and | olishly se n! hence,—

Strike up our drums, pursue the seatter’ ray :

; . | j lf las
Heaven, and not we, hiath sal foucht to- —
. : ‘ ; ! iy af A yih «
Some guard these traitors to he blo Gea;

Treason’s truce bed, and yieider up ol bre

SCENE Ill.—Another part »} th ; BF resl.—

{
; ; a et slink ae
Alarums : Excursions. Enier Valstatl and Cok
vile, meeting.
ae anna
Fal. What's your name, sir? of what cond
. : =
are you; and of what place, | pray
Cole. I nm a
Colevile of the dale

Fal. Well the n, Colevile is your name; a knight

|
4 your place, the dale: Cole-

is your degree _

vile shall still be your name ;—a traitor your ci

ITCe > ’

capiieh - so shall you still be Colevile of the dale
6 ;

(1) Each army (2) Young bullocks

Scene IT), SECOND PART OF

pany other word but iny name,

knight, sir; and my name is—

and the dungeon your place,—a place deep

KING HENRY IY, 420
Coie, Ars not you sic dohn Falstaff?

Fai. As good a man as he, sir, whoe’er 1 am,
Do ye yield, sir? or sha il T sweat for you? IfI do
sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep
Lor hy death: therefore reuse up fear and trem-
r, and do observance to FY mercy.

Cole. I think, you are sir John Falstaff; and, in
that thought, yield me.

ral. I have a whole school of tongues in this
elly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks
An | had but a

elly of any indiflerency, 1 were simply the most
active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb,

‘my womb, undoes me.—Here comes our general.

Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland,
and others.
P. John. The heat is past, follow no further
now ;-—
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoréland.—
[Exit West.
Now, Falstaff, wh ere have you been all this while?
A hen every thing is e ae a then you come:
These tardy nc of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some g allows’ back.

Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be
thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was
the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow,
in arrow, or a bullet? have I, in my poor and old
ion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded
hither with the very extremest inch of possibility ;
I have foundered nine-score and odd posts: and
here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and
immaculate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the
dale, a most furiou s ae ht, and valorous enemy :

But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that

I may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of
Rome,*—I came, saw, and overcame.

P, John. It was more of his courtesy than your
} Ss
uf rvil

Fal. 1 know not; here he is, and here I yield

im: and I beseech your grace, let it be booked
h the rest of this day’s dec ds: or, by the Lord,

will hi particular ballad else, with mine

ywn picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my

‘oot: To the which course if I be enforced, if you
not all show like gilt two-pences to me; and I,

n the clear sky of fame, o’ershine you as much as

the full moon doth the cinders of the element,
hich sl ile pins’ heads to her; believe not the

of the n ble: therefore let me have right,

too heavy to mount,

Fal. Let it s ine then.

P, John. 7 ‘hine’s too thick to shine.

Fal. Let it do some thing, my good Jord, that

may do me good, and call it what you will,

P. John. Is thy name Colevile ?

Cole. : It is, my lord.

P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.

Fal. And a famous true subject took him.

Cole. Lam, my = but as my betters are,
That led me hither: had they been ruled by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have,

Fal. I know not how they sold themselves : but
ies a kind fellow, gavest thyself away; and
[ thank thee for thee.

Re-enter Westmoreland.
John. Now, have you left pursuit ?
West. Retreat is made, and execution stay’d.
P, John. Send Colevile, with his confederates,

( >) f‘oolishty. (4) Crsar.

    
 
     
   
  
    
   
 
  
    
    
  
 
  
    
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
     
  
 
 
  
  
   
      
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
  
   
   
   
  
 
   

2, 2 AE REAR anean wae es RE
ey

430 SECOND PART OF
To York, to présent execution: — ’ |
Blunt, lead him hence ; ; and see you guard him sure.

[ Excunt ‘some with Colevile. |
And now despatch we toward the court, my|

KING HENRY IV.

SCENE IV,--Westminster. A voom tn the
palace. Enter King Henry, Clarence, Prince
Humphrey, War wick, and others,

K. Hen. Now, lords,

et IP,

if heaven doth give suc.

    
  

  
 
 
  
  
    
 
     
  
 
    
    
      
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
    
     
   
 
 
  
  
   
     
    
  
  
  
  
      
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
  
 
     

—_

sg FLO ERE LETT IEE TE ITO TATE TS TT

ee ae

lords ; |

I hear, the king my father is sore sick :
Our news shall go before us to his majesty,—
Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comtort him ;
And we with sober speed will follow you.
Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me
go through Glostershire : and,
court, stand my good lord,! pray, in
report.
P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff:
dition,*
Shall better spe sak of you than you deserve.
Fal. I would you had but the wit;
ter than your dukedom.—Good faith, this
young .sober-blooded boy doth not love me ;
man cannot make him laugh ;—but thyt’s
vel, he drinks no wine. There’s never any
demure boys come toany proof:
sO over-cool their blood,
meals, that they
NESS; ‘and then, when they marry, they
they are generally fools and cowards
some of us should be too, but for inflamma
¢ood sherris-sdck hath a two-fold ope
it ascends me into the brain: dries me
the foolish, and dull, and crudy v: ipours
veron it: makes it apprehensive, qui , for:
full of nimble, fiery, and delectab le sl hapes ;
delivered o’er to the voice, (the tongue,
the birth, becomes excellent w it. The

your

*twere

for thin drin

and making many

tion.
ration in if

ar
ie ;
waicn en

secon id pro

perty of your excellent sherris is,—the warming of
le ft thi
olf pusilla- |
warms it,
parts
as a bea-
king-
and then the vital commoners,
all to their cap-
and puffed up with

the blood ; which, before cold and settled,
liver white and pale, which is the badge
nimity and cowardice: but the sherris
and makes it course from the inwards to the
extreme. It illumineth the face ; which,
con, gives warning to all the rcst of this little
dom, man, to arm:
and inland petty spirits, muster me
tain, the heart; who, great
this retinue, doth any deed of eeurene 3 and thi:
valour comes of sherris: So that sk

pon is nothing, without sack; for
work:

a devil;
and use.
valiant:
of his father, he hath, like lear steril, ;
land, manured, husbanded, and tilled,
lent endeavour of drinking good,

that
and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by
till sack commences it,*

Hereof comes it, that prince

liant. If I had a thousand sons, the first
principle I weuld teach them
swear thin potations, and

sack,

addict themse

Enter Bardolph.

How now, Bardolph ?
Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone.
Fal. Let them go. I’ll through Glostershire ; and
there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire:
I have him already tempering between my finger

and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him.°|
{ Exeunt. |

Come away

(1) Stand my good friend.

2) In my present temper.

4) Brings it into action,

5) An allusion to the old use
gett wax,

(3) Inventive,

of sealing with

leave to
when you come to
gxood

I in my con-

petty
bet-
same
nor.
no mar-
of these
k doth
fish-
fall into a kind of mi ule rreen-sick-
vet wencies:

-— which

there al

retive,*
which
: pale wt
») which ls

dll in the wea-

sets it a-

and sets it in act
Harry r is
for the cold blood he did natur ms inherit
nd bare Ti
> ith excel-
and good store of
fertile sherris, that he is become very hot, and va-

Contot

human
should be,—to for-|'

lves to Min; rled wit

 

cessful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
| We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
| And draw no swords but what are s: inctified.
|Our nav y }s address’d,° our power collected,
Our substitutes in al bsence well invested,
And every thing lies level to our wish:
Only, we want a little personal strength ;
And pause us, till these re bels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of sovernment.
War. Both which, we doubt not but your
najesty :
Shall soon enjoy.
i. He be ]
Where is the prince your
P. Humph. 1 think he’
at Windsor.
K. Hen. And how accompanied ?
rs Hing. I do not know,
K. Hen. Is not brother,
rence, with him ?
P. Hwnph. No, my good lord ;
he re.
% What would my lord and father?
. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of
Clarence.
How chance, thou art not with the prince thy

)

Humphrey, my son of Gloster,
ur brother ?
’'s gone

to hunt, my lord,

my lord.
his Thomas of Cla

he is in presence

brother
Me loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
Thou ee a i bet ter place in his affee tion,
Mhan all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy ;
And hie offices thou m: Ly’ st effect

Of mediation, after I am dead,

Between his greatness and thy other brethren:
Therefore, omit him not; blunt not his love:
Nor lose ri good ady ant: ige of his grace,
By seeming cold, or careless of his will.

For he is gracious ap ie be observ’d ;”

He hath a tei r for pity, and a hand

Open as day for melting charity:

Yet notwithstanding, being incens ’d, he’s flint ;
\ hum orous as winter, and as sudden

\s flaws congealed in the epring of day.

His temper, therefore, must be well observ’d :
C hig le him for faults, and do it reve rently,
When you perceive his blood inclin’d to mirth:
But, ba ing moody, give him line and scope ;

ill that his passions, like a whale on ground,
nee hems selves with working. “Learn this,
if

{nd thou shi It oro ve a shelter to thy friends ;
A hoop of gold, to bind th y brothers in;
Chat the unite d vessels of their blood,
h venom of sugge stion,

(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in 7
Sh: ill never leak, thous veh it do work as strong

| As aconitum,® or rash gunpowder.

~ I shall observe him with all care and love,
. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him,

Thomas 7
Cla. He is not bese to-day ; he dines in London.
K. Hen. And how accompanied ? canst thou

tell that ?

Cla. x ith Poins, and other his continual fol-
owers,
K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds ;
(6) Ready, prepared.
(7) Has an attention shown him.

(8) Wolf’s-bane, a poisgnous herb,Beene IP, SECOND PART O
And he, the noble Image uo. my youth,

ts overspread with them: Therefore mv crief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death .

he blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape
In forms imavinaty, the uncuided days,
<And rotten times, that you shall look upon
When I am sk eping with my ancestors.
lor when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his ¢
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and oppos’d decay !

ounsellors,

War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him

quite:
The prince but studies his companions,

sike a strange tongue: herein, to gain the lan-

cue,
’Tis needful, tnat the most immodest word
Be look’d upon, and learn’d: which once attain’d,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, and hated, So, like gross terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers: and thcir memory
Shall, as a pattern or a measure, live, ~
By which his grace must mete the lives of others ;
Turning past evils to advantages,
K. Hen. ’Tis seldom, when the bee doil
her comb

In the dead carrion.—Who’s here? Westmorel )

and?
Enter Westmoreland.
West. Health to my sovereign! and new happi-
ness
Added to that that I am to deliver!
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace’s hand:
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all]
Are brought to the correction of your law;
here is not now a rebel’s sword unsheath’d,
ut peace puts forth her olive every where.
The manner how this action hath been borne,
Here at more leisure may your highness read ;
With every courze, in his particular,
K. Hen, O Westmoreland, thou art a summer
bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look! here’s more news.

?

Enter Harcourt.
Har, From enemies heaven keep your majesty |
And, when they stand against you, may they fall |
As those that I am come to tell you of !

The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,|T

With a great power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown :
The manner and true order of the fight,
This packet, please it you, contains at large.

K, Hen. And wherefore should these good news

make me sick ?
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters ?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,—
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach,—such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news; |
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy :—
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. |
[ Swoons.

 

P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty ! |
Cla, . ; O my royal father ! |

1) The detail contained in prince John’s letter,
t) Worked the wall. (3) Make me afraid,
(4) Monsters, (5) As if the year,

 

F KING HENRY IY, 43t

West, My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself,
look up!

War. Be patient
fits
Are with his highness very ordinary,
Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.
Cla. No, no; he cannotlong hold out these pangs ;
Ihe incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the nure,* that should confine it in,
So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.
P. Humph. The people fear me ;3 for they do
observe
Unfather’d heirs,* and ]
hi seasons change the

» Princes ; you do know, these

r

|
|
|

oathly birds of nature:
; ir manners, as the year’
lad found some months asleep, and leap’d them
over.
| Cla. The river hath thrice flow’d, no ebb be-
tween :°
| And the old folk, time’s doting chronicles,
|Say, it did so, a little time before
That our great srandsire, Edward, sick’d and died.
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
ff. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his
end.
K, rt I pray you, take me up, and bear me
lence,

 

1 leave | Into some other chamber: softly, ’pray.
y; pray

[They convey the king into an inner part of
the room, and place him on abed.
| Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends ;
| Unless some dull’ and favourable hand
| Will whisper music to my Weary spirit.
| War. Call for the music into the other room.
| 4K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
| Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
| War. Less noise, less noise.
Enter Prince Henry.
P. Hew. Who saw the duke of Clarence ?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and
none abroad!
| How doth the king?
P. Humph. Exceeding ill:
| oJ. Elen. Heard he the good news yet ?
/Tell it him.
P. Humph. He alter’d much upon the hearing it.
P. flen. If he be sick
With joy, he will recover without physic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords :—sweet
prince, speak low ;
he king your father is dispos’d to sleep.
Cla, Let us withdraw into the other room.
Wor. Will’t please your grace to go along with
)

 

us 7
P. Hen. No; I will-sit and watch here by the
king, [Evewnt all but P. Henry.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
O polish’d perturbation! golden care! ;
That keep’st the ports® of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night—sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin® bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down

9

(6) An historical fact, on October 12, 1411,
(7) Melancholy, soothing.
(8) Gates, (9) Cap,

  
   
     
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
   
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
 

1 iplclilaias s Nanigeiid ca oainesa ae gia :Sanat

eres

ChRONT
4583 SECOND

Perforce must move.—My gracious

ther |=

4 *

Is tears, and heavy sorro ws ot t the

eee nature, love, and filial t males rn
Shall, O dear father, | pay thee ple nteou
My “es froin thee, is this imperiai crow n+

Which, as immediate from thy plac
» it ie

Derives itself to me. Lo, he
[Putt

Which heaven shal] guard: And

whole strength
Into one giant arm, 1t shall not

This lineal honour from me: This

Will I to mine leave, as ’tis le fi t
K. Hen. Weruiak | (slo: ste

>, Adil adcctali an
Re-ente VV QriwicK, Gila

Cla.

War. What would your ma
your grace?

K. Hen. Why
lords

Cla. We lefithe prince my brot
I ‘.

Sie “ae
aia YOU icaye

Who undertook to sit and watch Dy

k,. Hen. The prince of W a} ze

let me see iim:
He is not here.
War. This door is open; he}

P. Humph. He came net thro

where we stay’d.
K. Hen. Where is the crown:

my pillow?

War. When we withdrew, my i

here.
K. Hen. The prince hati
seek him ot
Is he so hasty , that he doth suppo

My slee Pp my de ath ?——
Find him, my lord of Warwick ;

This part of his conjoins with n
And helps to end me.—Sce, s¢

are !
Vig sai

How quickly nature fails into re

} \ ‘1

Vhen gold becomes her 0b,
Vor this the foclish over-caretui

Have broke their sleep with thoug!

vith care,
Their bones with indus

For this they have engrossed and | Th
The canker’d heaps of strange-a

For this they have been though
Their sons with arts, and ma:

When, like the bee, tolling? fro

The virtuous sweets ;
Our thighs pack’d wit

1

} Wax, our

l
We bring if 0 the hive; and, like
hoa

Are murder’d for our pain:

Yield his engrossmet ts? to the ¢

VA/

> . .
Fee-enter \arwicK

Now, where is he that will not

Till his friend sickness hath det

War. My lord, 1 found the
room,

Washing with kindly tears hi

With such a deep demeanour in
That tyranny, which never quall’

Would, by beholding him, has
(1) Circle, (2) Taking toll,

‘With vente {
'This sleep is sound indecd ; this is ¢
That ia this golden rigol! hai h divore’ d
So many English king Thy du la

Before thy hou

Thou seek’st the greatne:s s that will overwhelm thee.

  
   
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  

RING HENRY Iv. Act IF,

vexdrops, Hels ¢oming hither
Tien, But wherefore did he ta ike away the

crown ?

K,

Re-enter Prince Henty.

|Lo, where he comes. —Come hither to me, Harry: _
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone:

(Ewe. Clarence, Prince Hur nphrey, Lords, &¢.
P. Hen, Inever thought to hear you “speak again,
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to “that

thoue ht :
tay y too long by thee, I weary thee.

Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours

r be ripe? O foolish youth!

ju SECK'E

tay but a little; for my PEtoud of oad

t

Is held from falling with so weak a Wink

That it will q juik kly drop: my day is dim.

Thou hast stol’n that, which, af ‘ter some few hours,
Were thine without offence ; and, at my death,
Thou hast seal’d up my expectation :

Thy life did manifest, thou lov’dst me not,

\nd thou wilt have me die assured of it.

hou hid’st a th asene daggers in thy thoughts ;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,

To stab at half an hour of my life.

it! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?

‘
“hen ect thee gone; and dig my grave thyself;
nd bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
Phat thou art crowned, not thet I am dead.

‘et all the tears that should bedew my hearse,

Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy he ad:
Only compound me with forgotten dust ;
Give that. which gave thee life, unto the’ worms.

Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ;
‘or now a time is come to mock at form,

‘

:
Harry the Fifth is erown’d :—Up, vanity!
:

‘ -
Jown, roy al state! all you sage counsellors, hence!
\nd to the English court assemble now,
In every region, ape ; of idleness!
- neiehbour confines, purge you of your scunr:

Have vou a ruflian, that will swear, drink, dance,
}

Revel the night; rob, Puree, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?

Be happy, he will putts soem more
Eneland shall - yuble gild his treble guilt ;
England shall give him office, honour, might :
For the fifth Harry from curb’d license plucks
Che muzzle off re patr’ int, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.

O my poor binict ae ym, sick with civil blows
Vhen that my care Soule | not withhold thy aie
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care ?
O. thou wilt be a wild: dinar again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
P. Hen. QO, pardon me, my liege! but for my

tears, [ Kneeling.
he moist impediments unto my speech,
| | forestall’d this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with ertef had note ,and I had heard
The course of itso far, There is your crown ;

And He that wears the crown immortally,
lone cuard it yours! If 1 aflect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
I.et me no more from this obedience rise,
(VW hic h my most true eo inward-duteous spirit
Teacheth, ) this prostrate and exterior bending!
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in,

| And found no course of breath within vour majesty
How cold it struck my heart! if I do feign, ae
O, let me in my present wildness die ;

(4) Ende d, (5) Confirmed mv opinion,Seene I. SECOND PART OF
And never live to show the incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed !

Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,

(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, )

1 spake unto the crown, as having sense,

And thus upbraided it. ’
Hath Jed upon the body of my father :
Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of
Other, less fine in carat, ' is more pre cious,
Preserving life in med’ cine polable ;2

But thou, most fine
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal lic re,
Accusing it, | put it on my head; , :

rold
£old,.

To try with it,—as with an enemy,
That had before my face murder’d
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of prick
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
Did, with the least affection of a welcon
Give entertainment to the might of it:
Let God for ever ke p it from my}
And make me as the poorest vassal is.
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it !
K.Hen, O my son!
Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence,
That thou might’st win the more thy father’s love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it, ~
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the v ry latest counsel
That ever | shall bre athe. Heavi n knows, my son,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook’d ways,
I met this crown; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it sat upon my head :
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation :
For all the soil? of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem’d in me.
But as an honour snatch’d with boisterous hand :
And I had many living, to upbraid
My gain of it by their assistances :
Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed,
W ounding supposed peace: all these bold fears,*
Thou see’st, with peril I have answered : |
For all my reign hath been but as a scene :
Acting that argument; and now my death |
Changes the mode:* for what in me was purchas’d, '
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
So thou the garland wear’st successively.
Yet, though thou stand’st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are gre en ;
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy
friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta’en out; |
By whose fell working I was first advanc’d,
And by whose power I well might | dge a fear
To be again displac’d: which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land;
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
Too near unto my state, Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How came I by the crown, O God, forgive! !
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. Hen. My gracious liege,
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ;
Then plain, and right, must my possession be:

l lity. (2) To be taken.
ts} Sooty irt, (4) Frights, (5) State of things,

my father,

it,

i?
Nead ;

 

Lhe care on thee depe ndine- |

» most honour’d, most renown’ d.|

KING HENRY IV. 433

| Which I, with more than with a commofi pain,
i rainst all the world will rightfully maintain,

|Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Warwick, Lords,
| and others,

K, Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of
Laneaster.

| P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my
royal father!

K. Hen. Thou bring’st me happiness, and peace,

son John;

But health, alack, with youthful Wings is flown
From this bare wither’d trunk : upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period, ——
| Where is my lord of Warwick ?
| P. Hen, My lord of Warwick !
| A. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
| Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
| Wear. ’Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord,
| A. Hen. Laud be to God !—even there my life
must end,
It hath been prophesied to me many years,
[ should not die but in Jerusalem ; ,
Which vainly I suppos’d, the Holy Land :—
But, bear me to that chamber ; there P’ll lie ;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [ Exeunt,

——<fp>>_
ACT V.
SCENE I.—Glostershire. 4 hall in Shallow s
house. Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph, and
Page.

Shal. By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away

|to-night.——What, Davy, I say!

Fal. You must excuse me, master Robert Shal«
low.

Shal. 1 will not excuse you; you shall not be

excused ; excuses shall not be admitted; there ig

no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused,

—Why, Davy!

Enter Davy.
Davy. Here, sir.
Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy,—let me see, Davy ;
let me see:—yea, marry, William cook, bid him

‘come hither.—Sir John, you shall not be excused.

Davy. Marry, sir, thus ;—those precepts" cannot
be served: and, again, sir,—Shall we sow the head~
land with wheat ?

Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William
cook ;——Are there no young pigeons ?

Davy. Yes, sir.——Here is now the smith’s note,
for shoeing, and plough-irons.

Shal. Let it be cast,* and paid:—Sir John, you
shall not be excused.

Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must
needs be had :—And, sir, do you mean to stop any
of William’s wages, about the sack he lost the other
day, at Hinckley fair ?

Shal. He shall answer it:——Some pigeons,
Davy; a couple of short-legged hens ; a joint of
mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell
William cook. ;

Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?

Shal. Yes, Davy. I will use him well; A friend
i’the court is better than a pennyin purse, Use his
men well, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and
will backbite.

(6) Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently meang

stolen goods.
(7) Warrants, (8) Accounted up,
afeee

 
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
   

ee

<rmetos tinea sides se

    
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  

   

Act V,

Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, sir;; Ch. Just. I would, his majesty had call’d me
for they have marvellous foul linen. with him: vt Hae
Shal. Well conceited, Davy. About thy busi-|The service that I truly did his life,

434 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.

ness, Davy. __ |Hath left me open to all injuries.
Davy. fash you, sir, to countenance Wil-| War. Indeed, I think, the young king loves you
liam Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of not.
the hill. Ch. Just. I know, he doth not; and do arm my-
Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against self,
that Visor; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my|To welcome the condition of the time ;
knowledge. | Which cannot look more hideously upon me

 

Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a aye That I have drawn it in my fantasy.

ir? t, God forbid, sir, but a knave should| ,, ; :
renee airanciss ds at his friend’s request. An| Enter Prince John, Prince ne Clarence,
honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when| Westmoreland, ae OREN

a knave is not. I have served your worship truly,| War. Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry:
sir, this eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice|O, that the living Harry had the temper
in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest} Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen !
man, I have but a very little credit with your wor-| How many nobles then should hold their places,
ship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; there-|That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!

fore, I beseech your worship, let him be counte-|

nanced.
Shal. Go to; I say, he shall have no wrong.
Look about, Davy. [Ezit Davy.] Where are you,

sir John? Come, off with your boots.—Give me|

your hand, master Bardolph.
Bard. 1 am glad to see your worship.

Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind master|
Bardolph :—and welcome, my tall fellow. [To the|
[Exit Shallow. |

ad. Vil follow you, good master Robert Shal-|
low. Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt Bar-|

Page.|] Come, sir John.

dolph and Page.] If I were sawed into quantities,
I should make four dozen of such bearded hermit’s-
staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing,

to see the semblable coherence of his men’s spirits|

and his: ae by observing him, do bear them-
selves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with

them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man ;|
their spirits are so married in conjunction with the|

participation of society, that they flock together in

the imputation of being near their master : if to his

men, I would curry with master Shallow, that no|
man could better command his servants. It is cer-|

Ch. Just. Alas! I fear, all wi'l be overturn’d.
P. John. Good morrow, cousin Warwick,
P. Humph. Cla. Good morrow, cousin,
P. John. We meet like men that had forgot to
speak.
Var. Wedo remember ; but our argument
Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
P. John. Well, peace be with him that hath made
us heavy !
Ch. Just. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!
P. Humph. O, good my lord, you have lost a
friend, indeed:

|And I dare swear, you borrow not that face
|Of seeming sorrow ; it is, sure, your own.

P, John. Though no man be assur’d what grace
to find,
You stand in coldest expectation :
l am the sorrier ; ’would, ’twere otherwise.
Cla. Well, you must now speak sir John Falstaff
fair ;

| Which swims against your stream of quality.
consent, like so many wild geese. IfI hada suit|
to master Shallow, I would humour his men, with|

Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in
honour,
Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ;
And never shall you see, that I will beg
A ragged and forestall’d remission.—

tain, that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, |If truth and upright innocency fail me,
is caught, as men take diseases, one of another: |T?ll to the king my master that is dead,
therefore, let men take heed of their company. I}And tell him who hath sent me after him.

will devise matter enough out of this Shallow, to} War. Here comes the prince.

keep prince Harry in continual laughter, the wear-

ing-out of six fashions, (which is four terms, or twos

actions, ) and he shall laugh without intervallums.
O, it is much, that a lie, with a slight oath, and a
jest, with a sad brow,? will do with a fellow that

never had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall];
see him laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill|

laid up.?
Shal. [Within.] Sir John!

Fal. 1 come, master Shallow; I come, master| put [4

Shallow. [ Evit Falstaff.
SCENE II.—Westminster. 1 room in the palace.
Enter Warwick, and the Lord Chief Justice.

War. How now, my lord chief justice ? whither
away ?
Ch. Just. How doth the king ?
War. Exceeding well; his cares are now all
ended.
Ch. Just. I hope, not dead.
‘ War. He’s walked the way of nature ;
And, to our purposes, he lives no more.

(1) A serious face, (2) Full of wrinkles,

 

 

 

 

Enter King Henry V.

Ch. Just. Good morrow; and heaven save your
majesty !

King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty,

ts not so easy on me as you think.—

Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear ;

| This is the English, not the Turkish court ;

Not Amurath an Amurath® succeeds,

arry, Harry: Yet be sad, good brothers,
For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you;
Sorrow so royally in you appears,

That I will deeply put the fashion on,

And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad:
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all,

For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur’d,

I’ll be your father and your brother too ;

Let me but bear your love, I’ll bear your cares,
Yet weep, that Harry’s dead; and so will I:
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears
By number, into hours of happiness.

(3) Emperor of the Turks, died in 1596; his son,
who succeeded him, had all his brothers strangled,Seen? TI].

P. John, §&c. We hope no other from your ma
jesty. .

King. You all look strangely on me:—and you! Aft

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IY,

-|To frustrate prophecies ; and to raze out
| Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
‘er my seeming. The tide of blood in me

most ; {Zo the Chief Justice. | Hath proudly flow’d in vanity, till now :

You are, I think, assur’d I love you not,
Ch, Just. Iam assur’d, if I be measur’d rightly
Your majesty hath no just cause to hateme. ””
King. No!
How might a prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid uponme?
What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison,
lhe immediate heir of England! Was this easy ?
May this be wash’d in Lethe, and forgotten? ~

Ch, Just. I then did use the person of your! In which

father ;
The image of his power lay then in me:
And, in the administration of his law,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your highness pleased to forget my place,

The majesty and power of law and justice,

The image of the king whom I presented,

And struck me in my very seat of judgment ;
Whereon, as an offender to your father,

I gave bold way to my authority,

And did commit you. If the déed were ill,

Be you contented, wearing now the garland,

‘To have a son set your decrees at nought :

To pluck down justice from your awful bench;
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
‘That guards the peace and safety of your person:
Nay, more; to spurn at your most royal image,
Ang mock your workings in a second body.2
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours ;
Be now the father, and prcpose a son:

Hear your own dignity so much profan’d,

See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted
Behold yourself so by a son disdain’d

And then imagine me taking your part,

And, in your power, soft silencing your son:
After this cold considerance, sentence me :
And, as you are a king, speak in your state,?
What I have done, that misbecame my place,
My person, or my liege’s sovereignty.

Kimg. You are right, justice, and you weigh this
well ;

Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword :
And I do wish your honours may increase,

Till you do live to see a son of mine

Offend you, and obey you, as I did.

So shall I live to speak my father’s words ;—
Happy am I, that have a man so bold,

That dares do justice on my proper son:

end not less happy, having such a son,

That would deliver up his greatness so,

Into the hands of justice. —You did commit me:
For which, I do commit into your hand
The unstained sword that you have us’d to bear ;
With this remembrance,—That you use the same
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit,
As you have done ’gainst me. There is my hand:
You shall be as a father to my youth:

My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear ;
And I will stoop and humble my intents

‘To your well-practis’d, wise directions.
And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you ;—
My father is gone wild into his grave,
For in his tomb lie my affections ;

And with his spirit sadly* I survive,
To mock the expectation of the world ;

)

 

| Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea ;

| Where it shall mingle with the state of floods,

And flow henceforth in formal majesty.

| Now call we our high court of parliament :

|And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel

‘That the great body of our state may go

In equal rank with the best-govern’d nation :

| That War, or peace, or both at once, may be

| As things acquainted and familiar to us ——
you, father, shall have foremost hand.—

| | T'o the Lord Chief Justice.

Our coronation done, we will accite, §

| As I before remember’d, all our state:

And (God consigning to my good intents, )

| No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause to say,—

{Heaven shorten Harry’s happy life one day. [Eze.

3

SCENE III.—Glostershire. The garden of Shal-
| low’s house. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence,
Bardolph, the Page, and Davy.

|

i

| Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard : where,

jin an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of my

own grafting, with a dish of caraways, and so forth :

|—come, cousin Silence ;—and then to bed.
Fal.’Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling,

‘land a rich.

Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beg-
gars all, sir John:—marry, good air.—Spread,
Davy; spread, Davy; well said, Davy.

Fal. This Davy serves you-for good uses; he is
your serving-man, and your husbandman.
| Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good
varlet, sir John.—By the mass, I have drunk too
‘much sack at supper: ——A good varlet. Now sit
down, now sit down:—come, cousin.
| St. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a,—we shalt

Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer,
[Singing.
| ind praise heaven for the merry year ;

When flesh is cheap and females dear,

ind lusty lads roam here and there,

So merrily,

And ever among so merrily.

| Fal. There’s a merry heart!—Good master Si-
‘lence, Ill give you a health for that anon.

| Shal. Give master Bardolph some wine, Davy.

| Davy. Sweet sir, sit; [Seating Bardolph and the
|Page at another table.] Vl be with you anon:—
most sweet sir, sit.——Master page, good master
|page, sit: proface!* What you want in meat, we'll
‘have in drink. But you must bear; The heart’s
lal. [ Exit.

Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph ;—and my little
soldier there, be merry.

Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife’s as all ;"__

[Singine.

For women are shrews, both short and tall :

’Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,
‘nd welcome merry shrove-tide.

Be merry, be merry, &c.

Fal. I did not think, master Silence had been a
man of this mettle.

Sil. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once
ere now,

 

 

ta) Crown. se ae
i r ted b 4) Gravely. (5) Summon.
: eee contempt your acts executed by 8} Teluan’ iitiatratgid ele thar eed
(3) In your regal character and office, | (7) As all women are,YY

SN i ek a
a

ee

   
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  

436 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. Act Ve

Re-enter Davy. Fal, O base Assrrian knight what is thy news ?

Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats! for you. ee ~ Seth me Sapatal pref)

[ Setting them before Bardolph,| + ? ’ iSivibs

Shal. Davy,— j ae

Davy. Your worship ?—Yll be with you straight. Resta tipese peers EET 8 hie the Helicons !
[To Bard-]"—4 sini oT ene ne Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies’ lap.

Sil. 4 cup of wine, that’s brisk and fine, Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breed-

And drink unto theleman? mine; ing.
[Singing.| Pist, Why then, lament therein
Shal. Give me pardon, sir;—Il, sir, you come

Fal. Well said, master Silence. with news from the court, I take it, there is but

Sil. And we shall be merry ;—now comes in the|two ways ; either to utter them, or to conceal them.
sweet of the night. I am, sir, under the king, in some authority.

Fal. Health and long life to you, master Silence. Pist. Under Ne Bezonian? speak, or die.
He bar Shal. Under king Harry.

Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ; 5 ee 9 rs

Dll pledge you a mile to the bottom. Pist. Harry the fourth? or fifth ?
os Shal. Harry the fourth.

Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome: If thou want-|  pjs¢, A foutra for thine office !—
est Bay thing, and will not eall, beshrew thy heart. lSir John, thy tender lambkin now is king ;
—Welcome, my little tiny thief; [To the Page.]| larry the fifth’s the man. I speak the truth:
and welcome, indeed, too.—i’ll drink to master) When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like
Bardolph, and to all the cavalcroes* about London. |The bragging Spaniard.

Davy. 1 hope to see London once ere I die. | Fal. What! is the old king dead?

Bard. An I might see you there, Davy. Pist. As nail in door : The things I speak are just.

Shal. By the mass, you’ll crack aquart together.) fal, Away, Bardolph ; saddle my horse.—Mas-
Ha! will you not, master Bardolph? ter Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt

Bard. Yes, sir, in a pottle-pot. f lin the land, ’tis thine. —Pistol, I will double-charge

Shal. 1 thank thee:—The knave will stick by|thee with dignities.
thee, I can assure thee that: he will not out; he! Bard, O joyful day !—I would not take a knight-
is true bred. ; : hood for my fortune.

Bard. And Pll stick by him, sir. Pist. What? I do bring good news?

Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing :} Fal. Carry master Silence to bed.—Master Shal-
be merry. [Knocking heard.| Look who’s at door} jow, my lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am for-

And a merry heart lives long-a.

 

 

there : Ho! who knocks ? [Eait Davy.\tune’s steward, Get. on thy boots ; we'll ride all
Fal. Why, now you have done me right. night :—O, sweet Pistol :—Away, Bardolph. [ Exit

ei silence sh ave ; :
[To Silence, who drinks a bumper.| Bardolph.|—Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and,

Sil. [Singing.] Dome right, iwithal, devise something, to do thyself good.—

 

And dub me knight :* | Boot, boot, master Shallow ; I know, the young

Samingo.° \king is sick forme. Letus take any man’s horses ;

Is’t not so? ithe laws of England are at my commandment.

Fal. ’Tis so. |Ltappy are they which have been my friends ; and
Sil. Is’t so? Why, then say, an old man can do|wo to my lord chief justice!

somewhat. Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!
Re-enter Davy. Where is the life that late I led? say they:
‘ f : Why, here it is; Welcome these pleasant days.

Davy. An it please your worship, there’s one [Exeunt.

wet Rata outta nour Wie chime tits SCENE IV.—London. +4 street. Enter Beadles,

: dragging in Hostess Quickly, and Doll Tear-
Enter Pistol. - sheet.

How now, Pistol? | Host. No, thou arrant knave ; I would I might
Pist. God save you, sir John! idie, that I might have thee hanged: thou hast drawn
Fal. What wind blew you here, Pistol? imy shoulder out of joint.

Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to| 1 Bead. The constables have delivered her over
good.—Sweet knight, thou art now one of the|to me; and she shall have whipping-cheer enough,
greatest men in the realm. |L warrant her : There hath been a man or two

Sil. By’r lady, I think ’a be; but goodman Puff lately killed about her.
of Barson. Doll. Nut-hook, nut-hook,® you lie. Come on;

Pist. Puff? \Pll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base !— jrascal - an the child I now go with, do miscarry,
Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend, ‘thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother,

And helter-skelter have I rode to thee ; thou paper-faced villain.
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, Host. O the Lord, that sir John were come ! he

And golden times, and happy news of price. i would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I
Fal. 1 pr’ythee now, deliver them like a man of| pray God the fruit of her womb misearry!
this world. | 1 Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of
Pist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings base ! |cushions’ again ; you have but eleven now, Come,
I speak of Africa, and golden joys. HT charge you both go with me ; for the man is dead,
|that you and Pistol beat among you.
1) Apples commonly called russetines.
Sweetheart. (3) Gay fellows. (5) It should be Domingo; it is part of a song
(4) He who drank a bumper on his knees to the|in one of Nashe’s plays.
health of nis mistress, was dubbed a knight for the} (6) A term of reproach for a catehpoll.
evening, (7) To stuff her out to counterfeit pregnancy,Scene V.

Doll, Tl tell thee what, thou thin man in a cen-
ser! I will have you as soundly swinged for this,
you blue-bottle rogue!! you filthy famished cor.
rectioner ! if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half.
kirtles.?

1 Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant,
come.

Host. O, that right should thus overcome might!
Well; of sufferance comes ease.

Doll. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a
justice.

Host. Ay; come, you starved blood-hound.

Doll, Goodman death! goodman bones!

Flost. Thou atomy, thou!

Doll, Come, you thin thing ; come, you rascal!

1 Bead. Very well. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—A public place near Westminster
Abbey. Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes.

1 Groom. More rushes, more rushes.
2 Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice.
1 Groom, It will be two o’clock ere they come
from the coronation: Despatch, despatch.
[Exeunt Grooms.

Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and
the Page.

Fal. Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow:
I will make the king do you grace: I will leer upon
him, as ’a comes by ; and do but mark the counte-
nance that he will give me.

Pist. God bless thy lungs, good knight.

Fal. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me.—O,|We will,

if I had had time to have made new liveries, |
would have bestowed the thousand pound I bor-
rowed of you. [To Shallow.] But ’tis no matter;
this poor show doth better: this doth infer the zea]
I had to see him.

Shal. It doth so.

Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection.

Shal, It doth so,

Fal, My devotion.

Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth.

Fal. As it were, to ride day and night; and not
to deliberate, not to remember, not to have pa-
tience to shift me.

Shal. It is most certain.

 

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY Iv. 437

Pist. The heavens thee guard and keep, most
royal imp* of fame!

Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy!

King. My lord chief justice, speak to that vain

man.

Ch. Just. Have you your wits? know you what
’tis you speak 2

Fal. My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my
heart!

King. I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy
prayers ;

How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester !

I have long dream’d of such a kind of man,

So surfeit-swell’d, so old, and so profane :

But, being awake, I do despise my dream.

Make less thy body, hence,’ and more thy grace ;

Leave gormandizing ; know, the grave doth gape

For thee thrice wider than for other men :—

Reply not to me with a fool-born jest

Presume not, that I am the thing I was:

For heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive,

That I have turn’d away my former self ;

So will I those that kept me company.

When thou dost hear I am as I have been,

Approach me ; and thou shalt be as thou wast,

The tutor and the feeder of my riots:

Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,—

As I have done the rest of my misleaders,—

Not to come near our person by ten mile.

For competence of life, I will allow you;

That lack of means enforce you not to evil:

And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,

according to your strength, and quali-
ties, —

Give you Sa mee it your charge, my

ord,

To see perform’d the tenor of our word.—

Set on. [Exeunt King, and his train.
Fal, Master Shallow, f owe youa thousand pound.
Shel. Ay, marry, sir John; which I beseech

you to Jet me have home with me.

_ Fal. That can hardly be, master Shallow. Do

not you grieve at this; [ shall be sent for in private

to him: look you, he must seem thus to the world.

‘ear not your advancement; I will be the man

yet, that shall make you great.

' Shal. I cannot perceive how; unless you give

 

 

Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and sweat-|me your doublet, and stuff me out with straw. I

ing with desire to see him : thinking of nothing
else; putting all affairs else in oblivion; as if there
were nothing else to be done, but to see him.
Pist, ’Tis semper idem, for absque hoc nihil est :3
*Tis all in every part.
Shal, ’Tis so, indeed.
Pist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,
And make thee rage.
Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,
Is in base duranceé, and contagious prison ;
Haul’d thither ;
By most mechanical and dirty hand :—
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto’s
snake
For Doll is in : Pistol speaks nought but truth.
Fal. I will deliver her.
[Shouts within, and the trumpets sound.
Pist, There roar’d the sea, and trumpet-clangor
sounds.

Enter the King and his train, the Chief Justice
among them.

Fal. God save thy grace, king Hal! my royal Hal!

 

1) Beadles usually wore a blue livery.
2} Short cloaks.

 

beseech you, good sir John, let me have five hun-
dred of my thousand.

Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word: this
that you heard, was but a colour,

Shal, A colour, I fear, that you will die in, sir
John.

Fal. Fear no colours; go with me to dinner.
Come, lieutenant Pistol;—come, Bardolph :—I
shall be sent for soon at night.

Re-enter P. John, the Chief Justice, Officers, &c.

Ch, Just. Go, carry sir John Falstaff to the Fleet ;
Take all his company along with him.
Fal. My \ord, my lord,——
Ch, Just. I cannot now speak; I will hear you
soon,
Take them away.
Pist. St fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.
[Eve. Fal. Shal. Pist. Bard. Page, and officers.
P. John. I like this fair proceeding of the king’s :
He hath intent, his wonted followers
Shall all be very well provided for ;
But all are banish’d, till their cenversations

(3) ’Tis all in all, and all in every part.
(4) Child, offspring. {5) Henceforwadr.—_

Aa NTN REE

Act r’,

Appear more wise and modest to the world. the First and Second Parts of Henry the Fourth.
Ch. Just. And so they are. Perhaps no author has ever, in two plays, afforded
P. John. The king hath call’d his parliament,|so much delight. The great events are interesting,

my lord. for the fate of kingdoms depends upon them; the
Ch. Just. He hath. slighter occurrences are diverting, and, except one
P. John. I will lay odds,—that, ere this year!or two, sufficiently probable; the incidents are
expire, multiplied with wonderful fertility of invention ;

We bear our civil swords, and native fire, and the characters diversified with the utmost

As far as France: I heard a bird so sing, nicety of discernment, and the profoundest skill in

Whose music, to my thinking, pleas’d the king. |the nature of man, _

Come, will you hence ? [Exeunt.| The prince, who is the hero both of the eomie

and tragic part, is a young man of great abilities,
EPILOGUE, and violent passions, whose sentiments are right,
SPOKEN BY A DANCER.

  

A438 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IY.

 

‘though his actions are wrong; whose virtues are
lobseured by negligence, and whose understanding
FIRST, my fear; then, my court’sy; last, myjis dissipated by levity. In his idle hours he is
speech. My fear is, your displeasure; my court’sy, |rather loose than wicked ; and when the occasion
my duty ; and my speech, to beg your pardons. If/forces out his latent qualities, he is great without
you look for a good speech now, you undo me: for/effort, and brave.without tumult, The trifler is
what I have to say, is of mine own making; andjroused into a hero, and the hero again reposes in
what, indeed, I should say, will, I doubt, prove)the trifler. The character is great, original, and just.
mine own marring. But to the purpose, and soto} Percy is a rugged soldier, choleric and quarrel-
the venture.—Be it known to you, (as it is very|}some, and has only the soldier’: virtues, generosity
well,) I was lately here in the end of a displeasing) and courage.
play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise} But Falstaff! unimitated, unimitable Falstaff!
you a better. I did mean, indeed, to pay you with| how shall I describe thee ? thou compound of sense
this; which if, like an ill venture, it come unluck-|and vice ; of sense which may be admired, but not
ily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors,/esteemed; of vice which may be despised, but
lose. Here, I promised you, I would be, and here|hardly detested. Falstaff is a character loaded
I commit my body to your mercies: bate me some, | with faults, and with those faults which naturally
and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do,|produce contempt. He is a thief and a glutton, a
promise you infinitely. ‘coward and a boaster; always ready to cheat the
If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me,|weak, and prey upon the poor ; to terrify the timo-
will you command me to use my legs? and yet|rous, and insult the defenceless. At once obsequi-
that were but light payment,—to dance out of your|ous and malignant, he satirizes in their absence
debt. Buta good conscience will make any possi-|those whom he lives by flattering. He is familiar
ble satisfaction, and so will J. All the gentlewo-|with the prince only as an agent of vice; but of
men here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will|this familiarity he is so proud, as not only to be
not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gen-|supercilious and haughty with common men, but
tlewomen, which was never seen before in such an|to think his interest of importance to the duke of
assembly. Lancaster. Yet the man thus corrupt, thus despi-
One word more, I beseech you. If you be not|czble, makes himself necessary to the prince that
too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author} despises him, by the most pleasing of all qualities,
will continue the story, with sir John in it, and| perpetual gaiety; by an unfailing power of exciting
make you merry with fair Katharine of France:|laughter, which is the more freely indulged, as his
where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of aj wit is not of the splendid or ambitious kind, but
sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard| consists in easy scapes and sallies of levity, which
opinions ; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is)make sport, but raise no envy. It must be ob-
not the man. My tongue is weary ; when my legs|served, that he is stained with no enormous or san-
are too, I will bid you good night: and so kneel/guinary crimes, so that his licentiousness is not #0
down before you;—but, indeed, to pray for the} offensive but that it may be borne for his mirth.
queen. The moral to be drawn from this representation
is, that no man is more dangerous than he that, with
a will to corrupt, hath the power to please; and
that neither wit nor honesty ought to think them-
selves safe with such a companion, when they see

Henry seduced by Falstaff. JOHNSON,

——

I fancy every reader, when he ends this play,
cries out with Desdemona, ‘O most lame and im-
potent conclusion!’ As this play was not, to our
knowledge, divided intu acts by the author, I could
be content to conclude it with the death of Henry
the Fourth:

Mr. Upton thinks fhese two plays improperly
called the First and Second Parts of Henry the
Fourth. The first play ends, he says, with the
|peaceful settlement of Henry in the kingdom by
These scenes, which now make the fifth act of|the defeat of the rebels. This is hardly true ; for
Henry the Fourth, might then be the first of Henry the rebels are not yet finally suppressed. The
the Fifth; but the truth is, that they do not unite|second, he tells us, shows Henry the Fifth in the
very commodiously to either play. When these|various lights of a good-natured rake, till, on his
plays were represented, I believe they ended as they] father’s death, he assumes a more manly character.

 

‘In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.’

 

are now ended in the books; but Shakspeare seems|This is true; but this representation gives us no
to have designed that the whole series of action,|idea of a dramatic action. These two plays will
from the beginning of Richard the Second, to the|appear to every reader, who shall peruse them
end of Henry the Fifth, should be considered by} without ambition of critical discoveries, to be so
the reader as one work upon one plan, only broken|connected, that the second is merely a sequel to
into parts by the necessity of exhibition. , |the first; to be two, only because they are too
None of Shakspeare’s plays are more read than'long to be one, JOHNSON,( 439. )

KING HENRY V.

 

 

 

 

 

 

yn
r

P
King Henry the Piftr.

; aN edit
ject = mae < $ brothers to the king.
Duke of Exeter, uncle to the king.

Duke of York, cousin to the king.

Earls of Salisbury, Westmoreland, and Warwick,

Archbishop of Canterbury.

Bishop of Ely.

Earl of Cambridge, )

Lord Seroop, > conspirators against the k

Sir Thomas Grey, |

Str Thomas Erpingham, Gower, Fluellen, Mac-
morris, Jamy, officers in king Henry’s army.

Bates, Court, Williams, soldiers in the same,

ing’.

Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, formerly servants to Fal-|

staff, now soldiers in the same.

Boy, servant to them. .4 Herald. Chorus.

 

RSONS REPRESENTED.

Charles the Sixth, king of France.

‘Lewis, the dauphin. ~

Dukes of Burgundy, Orleans, and Bourbon.

Lhe Constable of France.

Rambures, and Grandpre, French lords.

| Governor of Harfleur. Montjoy, a French heratd,
“imbassadors to the king of England.

Isabel, queen of France.

Katharine, daughter of Charles and Isabel.

Alice, a lady attending on the princess Katharine.
Quickly, Prstol’s wife, a hostess.

| Lords, ladies, officers, French and English soldiers,
messengers, and attendants,

ia Scene, at the beginning of the play, lies in
England ; but afterwards, wholly in France.

 

 

 

Enter Chorus.

QO. FOR a muse of fire, that would ascend

The brightest heaven of invention !

A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,

And monarehs to behold the swelling scene!

Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,

Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels,

Leash’d in, like hounds, should famine, sword, and
fire,

Crouch for employment.

The flat unraised spirit, that hath dar’d,

On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth

So great an object: Can this cockpit hold

The vasty fields of France? or may we cram

Within this wooden O,' the very casques,?

That did affright the air at Agincourt?

O, pardon! since a crooked figure may

Attest, in little place, a million ;

And let us, cyphers to this great accompt,

On your imaginary forces* work:

Suppose, within the girdle of these walls

Are now confin’d two mighty monarchies,

Whose high-upreared and abutting fronts

The perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder.

Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts :

Into a thousand parts divide one man,

And make imaginary puissance:

Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them

Printing their proud hoofs i’the receiving earth :

For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our
kings,

Carry them here and there ; jumping o’er times ;

Turning the accomplishments of many years

Into an hour-glass; For the which supply,

Admit me Chorus to this history ;

Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray,

Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

(1) An allusion to the circular form of the
theatre.

 

|
|
| Which, in the eleventh year o’the last king’s reign

|B
But pardon, gentles all, |

 

ay

ALS EF:
(SCENE I.—London. An ante-chamber in the
King’s palace. Enter the Archbishop of Canter-
bury, and Bishop of Ely.

Canterbury.

MY lord, I'll tell you,—that self bill is urg’d,
Was like, and had indeed against us pass’d,
ut that the scambling and unquiet time
id push it out of further question.+
Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
Cant, It must be thought on. If it pass against us,
We lose the better half of our possession:
For all the temporal lands, which men devout
By testament have given to the church,
Would they strip from us; being valued thus,—
\s much as would maintain, to the king’s honour,
Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights ;
Six thousand and two hundred good esquires ;
And, to relief of lazars, and weak age,
Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil,
A hundred alms-houses, right well supplied ;
And to the coffers of the king beside,
A thousand pounds by the year: Thus runs the bill,
Ely. This would drink deep.
Cant. ’T would drink the cup and all.
Ely. But what prevention ?
Cant. The king is full of grace, and fair regard,
Ely, And a true lever of the holy church.
Cant. The courses of his youth promis’d it not.
The breath no sooner left his father’s body,
But that his wildness, mortified in him,
Seem’d to die too: yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an angel came,
And whipp’d the offending Adam out of him ;
Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envelop and contain celestial spirits.
Never was such a sudden scholar made:
(2) Helmets.

(3) Powers of fancy. (4) Debate,“>

  
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  

a

ee

lf 440 KING HENRY Y. Act I,
: fit Hi tea Never came reformation in a flood, (SCENE II.—The same. A room of state in the
; He With such a heady current, scouring faults ; same. Enter King Henry, Gloster, Bedford,

Exeter, Warwick, Westmoreland, und attend-

West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege ?
K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin; we would be re-

|
, i : |
a Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness |
“g Hy pc So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, | ants.
i i As in this king. | K. Hen. Where is my gracious lord of Canter-
| ] j , : We are blessed in the change. | bury 2
— ll Cant. Hear him bu: reason in divinity, Exe. Not here in presence.
r i And, all-admiring, with an inward wish K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle.
You would desire, the king were made a prelate: |

Hear him débate of commonwealth affairs,

TERE

Ame RGAE RET TET

You would say,—it hath been all-in-all his study : solv’d,
. List? his discourse of 4 and you shall hear 3efore we hear him, of some things of weight,
. A fearful battle render’d you in music: That task our thoughts, concerning us and France,

Turn him to any cause of policy,

The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, ;
Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, | of uly.

The air, a charter’d libertine, is still, | Cant. God, and his angels, guard your sacred
And the mute wonder lurketh in men’s ears, throne,
|

| Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Bishop
x E

 

1
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences ; And make you long become it!
So that the art and practic part of life K. Hen. Sure, we thank you.
Must be the mistress to this theoric :? | My learned lord, we pray you to proceed ;
i et Which is a wonder, how his grace should glean it, | And justly and religiously unfold,
Since his addiction was to courses vain : | Why the law Salique, that they have in France,
i . His companies® unletter’d, rude, and shallow ; |Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim.
H His hours fill’d up with riots, banquets, sports; | And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
And never noted in him any study, | That youshould fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
fi i Any retirement, any sequestration |Or nicely charge your understanding soul
j From open haunts and popularity. | With opening titles miscreate,® whose right
| Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the net-/Suits not in native colours with the truth ;
Y . tle ; \For God doth know, how many, now in health,
ee es And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, Shall drop their blood in approbation
Neighbour’d by fruit of baser quality ; |Of what your reverence shall incite us to: ‘
And so the prince obscur’d his contemplation | Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,
pi Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt, | How you awake the sleeping sword of war;
| Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, |We charge you in the name of God, take heed:
Unseen, yet crescive* in his faculty. |For never two such kingdoms did contend,
Cant. It must be so: for miracles are ceas’d ; | Without much fall of blood ; whose guiltless drops
And therefore we must needs admit the means, |Are every one a wo, a sore complaint,
How things are perfected. |’Gainst him, whose wrongs give edge unto the swords
ly. But, my good lord, |That make such waste in brief mortality.
How now for mitigation of this bill |Under this conjuration, speak, my lord:
Urg’d by the commons? Doth his majesty And we will hear, note, and believe in heart,
Incline to it, or no? That what you speak is in your conscience wash’d
Cant. He seems indifferent ; As pure as sin with baptism.
| Or, rather, swaying more upon our part, Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign,—and
Lee Than cherishing the exhibiters against us: you peers, a
) ror I have made an offer to his majesty,— That owe your lives, your faith, and services,
Upon our spiritual convocation ; To this imperial throne ;—There is no bar
And in regard of causes now in hand, To make against your highness’ claim to France,
Which I have open’d to his grace at large, | But this, which they produce from Pharamond,—
As touching France,—to give a greater sum In terram Salicam mulieres né succedant,
Than ever at one time the clergy yet | No woman shall succeed in Salique land :
Did to his predecessors part withal. Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze,$
Ely. How did this offer seem receiv’d, my lord? |To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
Cant. With good acceptance of his majesty; |The founder of this law and female bar.
Save, that there was not time enough to hear | Yet their own authors faithfully affirm,
(As, I perceiv’d, his grace would fain have done,)|That the land Salique lies in Germany,
The severals, and unhidden passages, | Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe:
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms ; |Where Charles the great, having subdued the
And, generally, to the crown and seat of France, | Saxons,
Deriv’d from Edward, his great-grandfather, | There left behind and settled certain French ;
Ely, What was the impediment that broke this} Who, holding in disdain the German women,
off? |For some dishonest manners of their life,
Cant. The French ambassador, upon that instant, | Establish’d there this law,—to wit, no female
Cray’d audience: and the hour, I think, is come, |Should be inheritrix in Salique land ;
i ‘os him hearing: Is it four o’clock ? | Which Salique, as I said, ’twixt Elbe and Sala,
| y. It is. ae at this day in Germany call’d—Meisen,
} Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy ; Thus doth it well appear, the Salique law
ap Which I could, with a ready guess, declare, Was not devised for the realm of France:
; Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. Nor did the French possess the Salique land
£

Ely. Vil wait upon you ; and I long to hear it. /Until four hundred one and twenty years
| Eweunt.| After defunction of king Pharamond,

i (1) Listen to, (2) Theory. (3) Companions, (4) Increasing. (5) Spurious, (6) Exolaine.Beene II. KING HENRY Y. 441

* 9 .

1a mupposid the founder ofthislaw; |So hath your highness ; never king of England
Vho died within the year of our redemption | Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects ;

Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charles the great | Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England,
Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French 'And lie pavilion’d in the fields of France.

Beyond the river Sala, in the year | Cant. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, | With blood, and sword, and fire to win your right:
King Pepin, which deposed Childerick, In aid whereof, we of the spirituality

Did, as heir general, being descended | Will raise your highness such a mighty sum
Of Blithild, which was daughter to king Clothair, | As never did the clergy at one time ;

Make claim and title to the crown of France. | Bring in to any of your ancestors,

Hugh Capet also,—that usurp’d the crown | K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade the
Of Charles the duke of Lorain, sole heir male | French ;

Of the true line and stock of Charles the great,— | But lay down our proportions to defend

» » i oe . > 3 ¢ ~ wh ; P - | ra] . I
if fine’ his title with some show of truth, _| Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
‘ hough, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,)| With all advantages.

onvey’d himself? as heir to the lady Lingare, | Cant. They of those marches,’ gracious sove-
Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son reign,
To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son Shall be a wall sufficient to defend

Of Charles the great. Also king Lewis the tenth, |Our inland from the pilfering borderers.

W ho was sole heir to the usurper Capet, K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing snatchers
Could not kee}, quiet in his conscience, only,

Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied But fear the main intendment! of the Scot,

Phat fair penn Isabel, his grandmother, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us;
Was lineal of the lady Ermengare, For you shall read, that my great grandfather

Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorain: | Never went with his forces into France,

 

By the which marriage, the line of Charles the great | But that the Scot on his unfurnish’d kingdom
Was re-united to the crown of France’ Came pouring, like the tide into a canta

So that, as clear as is the summer’s sun, With ample and brim fulness of his force ;

King Pepin’s title, and Hugh Capet’s claim, Galling the gleaned land with hot essays;

King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear Girding with grievous siege, castles and towns,
To hold in right and title of the female : That England, being empty of defence,

So do the kings of France unto this day ; ‘Hath shook, and trembled at the ill neighbourhgod.
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law, Cant. She hath been then more fear’d’ than
To bar your highness claiming from the female; | harm’d, my liege:

And rather choose to hide them in a net, For hear her but exampled by herself,—

han amply to imbare?® their crooked titles When all her chivalry hath been in France,
Usurp’d from you and your progenitors. And she a mourning widow of her nobles,

K. Hen, May I, with right and conscience, make |She hath herself not only well defended,

this claim ? But taken, and impounded as a stray,

Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! |The king of Scots; whom she did send to Franee,
For in the book of Numbers is it writ,— 'To fill king Edward’s fame with prisoner kings ;
When the son dies, let the inheritance And make your chronicle as rich with praise,
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord, As is the ooze and bottom of the sea
Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag ; With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries.

Look back unto your mighty ancestors: | West. But there’s a saying, very old and true,
Go, my dread lord, to your great grandsire’s tomb, | If that you will France wim,

From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, | Then with Scotland first begin:

And your great uncle’s, Edward the black prince;/For once the eagle England being in prey,

Who on the French ground play’d a tragedy, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot

Making defeat on the full power of France ; Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs ;
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat,

Stood smiling; to behold his lion’s whelp To spoil and havoc more than she can eat.
Forage in blood of French nobility. | Exe. It follows then, the cat must stay at home:
0 noble English, that could entertain 'Yet that is but a curs’d necessity ;

With half their forces the full pride of France ; Since we haye locks to safeguard necessaries,
And let another half stand laughing by, And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.

All out of work, and cold for action! While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,

Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,|The advised head defends itself at home:

And with your puissant arm renew their feats : iFor government, though high, and low, and lower
You are their heir, you sit upon their throne ; | Put into parts, doth keep in one concent ;*
The blood and courage, that renowned them, Tn eae in a full and natural close,
Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege | Like music. “
Is in the very May-morn of his vanilla Cant. True: therefore doth heaven divide
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. The state of man in divers functions,
Eze, Your brother kings and monarchs of the|Setting endeavour in continual motion ;
earth To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, Obedience: for so work the honey-bees ;
As did the former lions of your blood. Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach
West. They know, your grace hath cause, and|The act of order to a peo led kingdom. |
means, and might; They have a king, and officers of sorts:
{) Make showy or specious. (2) Derived his title.| (6) General disposition. (7) Frightened,
$) Lay open. (4) At the battle of Cressy, (8) Harmony. (9) Agreeing.
5) The borders of England and Scotland. 10) Different degrees.

3K442

Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
i Make boot upon the summer’s velvet eM .
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor:
BA Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
i The singing masons building roofs of gold ;
a The civil’ citizens kneading up the honey ;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ;
The sad-ey’d justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o’er to executors? pale
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,—
That many things having full reference
To one concent, may work contrariously ;
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
. Fly to one mark;
As many several ways meet in one town;
he As many fresh streams run in one self sea ;
Hie § As many lines close in the dial’s centre ;
So may a thousand actions, once afoot,
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.
Divide your happy England into four ;
Whereof take you one quarter into France,
ih And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
If we, with thrice that power left at home,
Cannot defend our own door from the dog,
| Let us be worried ; and our nation lose

. The name of hardiness, and policy.
i K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from the
i dauphin.
i. [Exit an attendant. The King ascends his
3 throne.

Now are we well resolv’d: and,—by God’s help,
And yours, the noble sinews of our power,—
France being ours, we’ll bend it to our awe,

Or break it all to pieces: Or there we’ll sit,
Ruling in large and ample empery,?

O’er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms :
Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn,
Tombless, with no remembrance over them:
Either our history shall, with full mouth,

Speak freely of our acts; or else our grave,

| Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,
Not worship’d with a waxen epitaph.

Enter Ambassadors of France.

Now are we well prepar’d to know the pleasure
Of our fair cousin dauphin ; for, we hear,
Your greeting is from him, not from the king.
mb. May it please your majesty, to give us leave
Freely to render what we have in charge ;
Or shall we sparingly show you far olf
The dauphin’s meaning, and our embassy ?
Hi K. Hen. We are no tyrant, buta Christian king ;
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject,
As are our wretches fetter’d in our prisons :
Therefore, with frank and with uncurbed plainnes
Tell us the dauphin’s mind.
Amb. Thus then, in few.
Your highness, lately sending into France,
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right

Sy

In answer of which claim, the prince our master
Says,—that you savour too much of your youth;
And bids you be advis’d, there’s nought in Franee,
That can be with a nimble galliard* won;

1) Sober, grave. (2) Executioners.

: Dominion. (4) An ancient dance.
i | 5) A place in the tennis-court into which the
i ball is sometimes struck,

KING HENRY Y.

Of your great predecessor, king Edward the third. |

   

Act I.

 

You cannot revel into dukedoms there :
He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
This tun of treasure ; and, in lieu of this,
Desires you, let the dukedoms, that you claim
Hear no more of you. This the dauphin speaks.
K. Hen. What treasure, uncle ?
Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege.
kK. Hen. We are glad, the dauphin is so plea-
sant with us ;
His present, and your pains, we thank you for:
When we have match’d our rackets to these balls,
|We will, in France, by God’s grace, play a set,
Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard ;°
Tell him, he hath made a match with such a
wrangler,
| That all the courts of France will be disturb’d
| With chaces.* And we understand him well,
| How he comes o’er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.
We never valu’d this poor seat” of England ;
And therefore, living hence,® did give ourself
|T'o barbarous license; As ’tis ever common,
That men are merriest when they are from home.
(But tell the dauphin,—I will keep my state ;
Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,
When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
lor that I have laid by my majesty,
And plodded like a man for working days ;
But I will rise there with so full a glory,
‘That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the dauphin blind to look on us.
And tell the pleasant prince,—this mock of his
Hath turn’d his balls to gun-stones ; and his soul
Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
‘That shall fly with them: for many a thousand
widows
Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands;
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
\nd some are yet ungotten, and unborn,
‘That shall have cause to curse the dauphin’s scorn.
But this lies all within the will of God,
To whom I do appeal; And in whose name,
{Tell you the dauphin, I am coming on,
‘To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightful hand in a well-hallow’d cause.
So, get you hence in peace ; and tell the dauphin,
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
| When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.—
Convey them with safe conduct.—Fare you well.
[Exeunt Ambassadors,
Exe. This was a merry message,
K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush at it.
[Descends from his throne,
Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour,
| That may give furtherance to our expedition:
For we have now no thought in us but France:
Save those to God, that run before our business.
Therefore, let our proportions for these wars
Be soon collected ; and all things thought upon,
|That may, with reasonable swiftness, add
More feathers to our wings ; for, God before,
| We’ll chide this dauphin at his father’s door.
Therefore, let every man now task his tnought,
That this fair action may on foot be brought.
[ Exeunt,

| ro

| ACT IL.

 

Enter Chorus.
Chor. Now all the youth of England are on fire.

6) A term at tennis. (7) The throne,
8) Withdrawing from the court,

(
(Scene I.

And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies ;

Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every m in:
They sell the pasture now, to buy the horse ;
Following the mirror of all Christian kine S,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.

For now sits Expectation in the air ;

And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point,
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,
Promis’d to Harry, and his followers.

The French, advis’d by rood intelligence

Of this most dreadful preparation,

Shake in their fear; and with pale policy

Seek to divert the English purposes.
O England !—model to thy inward creatness
Like little body with a mighty heart,—

What might’st thou do, that honour would thee ¢
Were all thy children kind and natural!

But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he! fills

} {

With treacherous crowns: and three corrupted

- an
men,—

One, Richard earl of Cambridg:

Henry lord Scroop of Masham ; and the third

Sir Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland.—

Have, for the gilt? of France, (O quilt, indeed

Confirm’d cons;

and the second

le
lt
piracy with feariul France

And by their hands this crace of ki: must die
(If hell and treas mn hold their promis Sy)

Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.

Linger your patience on; and well digest
The abuse of distance, while we force a play.
The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed ;
The king is set from London: and the scene
Is now transported rent 8, to south
There is the play house now, there must you sit :
And thence to F
And bring you bac
To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,

We'll not offend one stomach with our play.
But, till the king come forth, and not till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. [xi

SCENE I.—The same. FEastcheap.

, ’ :
and Bardolph.

impton:
rance s}
back, charming the narrow seas
’

Bard. Well met, corporal Nym.
Nym. Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph.
Bard. What, are ancient Pistol and

yet ?

" Nym. For my part, Ieare not: I say little: but
when time shall serve, there shall be smiles ;—but
that shall be as it may. I dare not fight ; but I wilt
wink, and hold out mine iron: [tis a simple one ;
but what though? it will toast cheese ; and it wil
endure cold as another man’s sword will: and
there’s the humour of it,

Bard. 1 will bestow a breakfast, to make you
friends ; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to
France ; let it be so, good corporal Nym.

Nym. ’Faith, I will live so long as I may, that’s
the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer,
I will do asI may: that is my rest,* that is th
rendezvous of it. : n't

Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married
to Nell Quickly: and, certainly, she did you wrong ;
for you were troth-plight to her.

Nym. I cannot tell; things must be as they may:
men may sleep, and they may have their throats

KING HE

|
|
|

NRY Y. 443

ihave edges. It must be as it may: though patience
|be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be

conclusions. Well, I cannot tell.

Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly.

Bard, Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife
—ood corporal, be patient here.—How now, mine
ihost Pistol ?
| Pist. Base tike,* call’st thou me—host ?
|Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term ;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
| Quick. No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot
lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen,
that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but
it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight,
[Nym draws his sword.] O well-a-day, Lady, if he

,|be not drawn now! © Lord! here’s corporal

Nym’s—now we shall have wilful adultery and
murder committed. Good lieutenant Bardolph,—
ood corporal, offer nothing here.
Nym. Pish!
Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear’d
cur of Iceland! ,
Quick. Good corporal Nym, show the valour of
Lman, and put up thy sword,
“Vym. Will you shog off? I would have you solus,
[ Sheathing his sword,
Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile!
e solus in thy most marvellous face ;
solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
d in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy ;3
d, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth !
I do retort the solus in thy bowels:
or I can take, and Pistol’s cock is up,
{nd flashing fire will follow.
“Vym. Tam not Barbason;° you cannot conjure
me. I have x humour to knock you eer

iif

n

T
7
\
\

a

well: If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I wi
scour your with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms :
if you would walk off, I would prick your guts a
little, in good terms, as I may; and that’s the
humour of it,

Pist. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight !
: grave doth gape, and doting death is near ;
Therefore exhale.” [Pistol and Nym draw.
ard. Hear me, hear me what I say:—he that
strikes the first stroke, I’ll run him up to the hilts,
is Tam a soldier. [ Draws.

Pist. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall

abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give ;
Thy spirits are most tall.

Nym. T will eut thy throat, one time or other,
in fair terms; that is the humour of it.

Pist. Coup le gorge, that’s the word ?—TI thee

defy again.
O hound of Crete,® think’st thou my spouse to get?
No; to the spital® go,
\nd from the powdering tub of infamy,
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind,!®
Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse:
| have, and I will hold, the quondam" Quickl
For the only she ; and—Pauca, there’s enough.
Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my
master,—and you, hostess ;—he is very sick, and
would to bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy nose be-
tween his sheets, and do the office of a warming :

about them at that time; and, some say, knives/pan: *faith, he’s very ill.

i.e. The king of France. (2) Golden money.
What I am resolved on. (4) Clown.

Par Dieu! (6) Name of a demon.
Breathe your last.

1)
;
1)

| (8) Bloodhound. (9) Hospital. on

| (10) Of Cressida’s nature, see the play of Troiliue
land Cressida.

| (11) Formerly.

  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
    
   
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
   

FO aS a ee .ee eee

444 KING HENRY V.

Bard, Away, you rogue.

Quick, By my a he’ll yield the crow a pud
ding one of these days : the king has killed hi
heart.—Good husband, come home presently.

[Exewnt Mrs. Quickly and Boy.

   

Act I.

My lord of Cambridge,—and my kind lord ef
: Masham,—
s|And you, my gentle knight,——give me your
thoug hts: :
Think you not, that the powers we bear with us,

Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends? We} Will cut their passage through the force of France :
must to Franee together; Why, the devil, should| Doing the execution, and the act,

we keep knives to cut one another’s throats ?

Pist. Let floods o’erswell, and fiends for food

howl on!

Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I wor

of you at betting ?
ist, Base is the slave that pays.

Nym. That now I will have ;
of it.

Pist, As manhood shall compound; Push home.

Bard. By this sword,» he that makes the first
thrust, PU kill him; by ‘this sword, I will.

Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have

their course,
Bard, Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends,

be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies | Have

with me too. Pry’thee, put up.

Nym. 1 shall have my eight shillings, I won of

you at betting ?

Fist. A noble? sh: ult thou have, and present pay ; |
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood :
Pll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me ;—
Is not this just ?—for I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nym. I shall have my noble

Pist. In cash most justly p: fd,

Nym. Well then, that’s the humour of it.

Re-enter Mrs. Quickly.

Quick, As ever you came of women, come in
quickly to sir John: Ah, poor heart! he is so

shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most|

lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.
Nym. The king hath 1 in bad humours on the
knight, that’s the even of
Pist. Nym, thou hast ae e the right ;
His heart is fracted, and corroborate.
Nym. The king is a good king: but it must be
as it may; he passes some humours, and careers.
Pist, Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins,
we will live. [Exveunt,

SCENE JI.—Southampton. 4 council-chamber.
Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland.
Bed. Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these
traitors.
Exe, They shall be apprehended by and by.
West. How smooth and even they do ae
themselves !
As if allegiance in their bosom sat,
Crowned with faith, and constant loy: ilty.
Bed, The king hath note of all that they intend,
By interception which they dream not of.
Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath cloy’d and grac’d with princely
favours,— ‘
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign’s life to death and treache ry!

Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, Scroop,
Cambridge, Grey, Lords, and Attendants.
K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair,
aboard.

and we will

1) A coin, value six shillings and eight-pence.
2) Force, (3) Compounded, (4) Recompense,

(
(

that’s the humour

|For which we have in head? assembled them ?
Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his

best.

1} K. Hen. I doubt not that
persuaded,

We carry not a heart with us from hence,

That grows not in a fair consent with ours ;

| Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish

Suecess and conquest to attend on us.

Cam. Never was monarch better fear’d, and lov’d,
Than is your majesty; there’s not, I think, a subject,
That te in he art-gric f and uneasiness
Under the sweet sh: sa » of your government.

Grey. Even those, that were your father’s enemies,
teep’d their 0 alls | in honey ; and do serve you
1VV ith | hearts create*® of duty and of zeal.
| KK. Hen. We therefore have great cause of
| thankfulness :;

|And shall forget the office of our hand,
|Sooner than quittance ‘ of desert and merit,
| According to the weight and worthiness.
| Sere op. So service shall with steeled sinews toil ;
|And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
|'T’o do your grace incessant services.
Bey :: We judge no less. —Uncle of Exeter,
|
}

since we are well

 

—_

| al irge the man committed yesterday,

(That or d against our person: we consider,

}It was excess of wine that set him on; :

|And, on his more advice,* we pardon him.

| Scroop. That’s mercy, b ut too much security:
Let him be punish’d, sovereign ; lest example

|

Bre d, by = ufferance, more of such a kind.
K. Hen. , let us yet be merciful.
Cam. So ae your hig shne ss, and yet punish too,
Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you give him
| After the taste of much correction.
K.H \ your too much love and care of me

\re heavy orisons® ’gainst this poor wretch.
If little faults, gnees eding on distemper,
Shall not be wink’d at, how shall we stretch our eye,

When capital erimes, chew’ d, swallow’d, and
1f etal
qilery CU

A ppe ar 7 ciore u

| Thou h Can ‘brie id

'—We’ll yet enlarge that man,
re, Scroop, and Grey,—in their
le ar care,
| And tender preservation of our person,—
| Would i ive him punish’d. And now to our French
. causes :
Who are the late’ commissioners ?
Cam. I one, my lord:
Your highness bade me ask for it to- day.
| Seroop. So did you me, my liege.
Grey. And me, my royal sovereign.
K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl” of ae
there is vours :— ’
There yours, lord Scroop of Masham ;—and,
knight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours :—
Read them ; and know, I know your worthiness,—
My lord of Westmorel: and, —and uncle E xeler,—
We will aboard to-night.—W hy, how now, gentle

men?

Vhat see you in those papers, that you Jose

(5) Better information.

) (6) Prayers,
(7) Lately appointed.Scene ITI. KING HENRY V. 445

So much complexion ?—Look ye, how they change! |For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Their cheeks are paper.—W hy, what read you! Another fall of man.—Their faults are open,
there, Arrest them to the answer of the law i—
That hath so cowarded and chas’d your blood |And God acquit them of their practices !
Out of appearance ? | ve. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of
Cam. I do confess my fault: | Richard earl of Cambridge.
And do submit me to your highness’ mercy. [ arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry
Grey. Scroop. To which we all appeal, ‘lord Seroop of Masham.
K. Hen, The mercy, that wasquick'in us butlate,|} I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of
By your own counsel! is suppress’d and kill’d: Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland.

You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; | Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discover’d ;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, And I repent my fault, more than my death ;
As dogs upon their masters, worrying them.— Which I beseech your highness to forgive,

See you, my princes, and my noble peers, Although my body pay the price of it.

These English monsters! My lord of Cambridge! Cam, For me,—the gold of France did not seduce ;
here ,— | Although I did admit it as a motive,

You know, how apt our love was, to accord The sooner to effect what I intended:

To furnish him with all appertinents But God be thanked for prevention ;

Belonging to his honour; and this man Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,

Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir’d, | Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me,

And sworn unto the practices of France, Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice

To kill us here in Hampton: to the which, \t the discovery of most dangerous treason,

This knight, no less for bounty bound to us Than I do at this hour joy o’er myself,

Than Cambridge is,—hath likewise sworn.—But O!| Prevented from a damned enterprise :

What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop; thou cruel,|My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.

Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature ! K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your

Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels, | sentence,

That knew’st the very bottom of my soul, You have conspir’d against our royal person,

That almost might’st have coin’d me into gold, Join’d with an enemy proolaiav'd, and from his

W ould’st thou have practis’d on me for thy use? | coffers

May it be possible, that foreign hire Receiv’d the golden earnest of our death ;

Could out of thee extract one spark of evil, W herein you would have sold your king to slaughter,

That might annoy my finger? ’tis so strange, His princes and his peers to servitude,

That, though the truth of it stands off as gross His subjects to oppression and contempt,

As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it. | And his whole kingdom unto desolation.

Treason, and murder, ever kept together, Touching our person, seek we no revenge 3

As two yoke-devils sworn to either’s purpose, But we our kingdom’s safety must so tender,

Working so grossly in a natural cause, Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws

That admiration did not whoop at them: | We do deliver you. Get\you therefore hence,

But thou, ’gainst all proportion, didst bring in | Poor miserable wretches, to your death:

Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder: |The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you

And whatsoever cunning fiend it was, Patience to endure, and true repentance

That wrought upon thee so preposterously, /Of all your dear offences !1—Bear them hence. a2

H’ath got the voice in hell for excellence: Bi Mies [ Exeunt conspirators carded,

And other devils, that suggest by treasons, Now, lords, for France ; Pe Carel prene whereof

Do botch and bungle up damnation 1 ad __| Shall be to you, as us, like ee

With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch’d \V e doubt not of a fair and ucky war; sik

From glistering semblances of piety ; | Since God so graciously hath brought a igh

But he, that temper’d? thee, bade thee stand up, | This dangerous treason, lurking in our way,

Gave thee noinstance why thou should’st do treason, | lo hinder our beginnings, we doubt nat now,

Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. | But every rub is smoothed on our way. *

If that same demon, that hath gull’d thee thus, | Then, forth, dear countrymen ; ee: deliver

Should with his lion gait? walk the whole world, |Our puissance into the a of God,

He might return to vasty Tartar* back, | Putting it straight in expec Hon. 7” ,

And tell the legions—I can never win |Cheerly to sea; the signs ~ a arene es

A soul so easy as that Englishman’s. |No king of England, if not king of Franee, | £ze.

O, how hast thou with jealousy infected =| SCENE III.—London. Mrs. Quickly’s house in
The sweetness of affiance! Show men — ? 1 , E astclibap Enter Pistol, Mrs.- Quickly, Nym,
J ids - See hey grave and learnet ae . -
Why, so didst thou: Seem they gra lear s dadeiee dled doe:
Why, so didst thou: Come they of noble family ? B why oe fin the ahaa tae.
Why, so didst thou: Seem they religious? — Quick. I ythee, loney-s .
Why, so didst thou: Or are they spare in diet ; bring thee to Staines. 1 hans ee
Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger ; , Pist. No; Mm my may 1ear : A mre
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood ; sardolph, be blithe ;—Nym, rouse thy g
Jarnish’d ¢ eck’ d | lest complement ;° veins ; ,
iarnen a8 — ee a ae oe Soy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaffhe is dead,
Not working with the eye, without the ear, 7; re ey ate
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither ? And we must yearn therefore.
a drole Bolied,* dida seem : Bard. ’Would, | were with him, wheresome’er
Such, and so finely bolted,* didst thou seem : bare, Opn Se REBEL
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, _ the is, eit Oe eave OF A og sar
To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued, Quick. Nay, sure, e's n a ahs Re eae ae
With some suspicion. 1 will weep for thee ; thur’s bosom, if ever man went to .

(5) Accomplishment. (6) Sifted. (7) Endowed,

1) Living. (2) Rendered thee pliable, ts) Attend, ‘

3) Pace, step. (4) Tartarus, (9) Grieve,Shee ee

ae

  
  
  
    
    
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
    
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
    
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
   
     

 

7A made a finer end, and went away, an it ha
been any christom? child ;
tween twelve and one, e’ en at turning 0’ ‘the tide
for after I saw him fumble with the sheets , an

     
  
   

446 KING HENRY YV. Act Il,

d|For England his approaches makes as fierce,

a parted even just be-| As waters to the sucking of a gulf.

It fits us then, to be as provident
dl As fear may teach us, out of late examples

play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers’ ends, | Left by the fatal and neglected English

knew there was but one way; for his nose wa
us sharp as a pen, and ’a babbled of green fields.
How now, sir John? quoth I: what t, man ! be o
good cheer. So, ’a cried out—God, God, God
three or four times: now I, to comfort him, bi

s| Upon our fields.
| ‘De U. My most redoubted father,

f}{t is most meet we arm us ’eainst the foe:

'/ For peace itself should not so dull* a kingdom,

| (Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in

him, ’a should not think of Go d; I hoped, there| question, )

was no need to trouble himself with any such
thoughts yet: So, ’a bade me lay more clothes o:
his feet: I put my hand into the bed, a1 ms felt them,
and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt t
his knees, and so upward, and a ard, and al
was as cold as any stone.

Nym. They say, he cried out for sack.

} ei Ay, thi it a did,

ard. And of women.
Quick. Nay, that ’a did not.

Boy. Yes, that ’a did ; ; and said, they were devils

incarnate.
Quick. ’A could never abide carnation; ’twas a
colour he never liked.

Boy. ’A said once, the devil would have him

about women.

Quick. ’A did in some sort, indeed, handle wo-
men: but then he was rheumatic ;? and talked of
the whore of Babylon.

Boy. Do you not remember, ’a saw a flea stick
upon ‘Bardolph's nose ; and ’ a said, it was a black
soul burning in hell-fire ?

Bard. Well, the fuel is gone, that maintained
that fire: that’s all the riches I got in his service.

Nym. Shall we shog off? the king will be gone
from Southampton.

Pist. Come, let’s away.—My love, give me thy

lips,
Look to my chattels, and my moveables :
Let senses rule; the word is, Pitch and Pay;
Trast none ;
For oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck ;
Therefore, caveto be thy counse lor.
Go, clear thy crystals.>—Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my boys
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!

Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, the y Say.

Pist, Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bard. Farewell, hostess. [ Kissing her.

Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it;
but adieu.
Pist. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee
command.
Quick. Farewell; adieu. [Exeunt. |

SCENE IV.—France. 4 room in the preeeh ny

King’s palace. Enter the French King atten:
the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Cons ath
ble, and others.

Fr, King. Thus come the English with full power)

upon us;
And more than carefully it us concerns,
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne,
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,—
And you, prince dauphin,—with all swift despatch,
To line, and new repair, our towns of war,
With men of courage, and with means defendant:

1) A child not more than a month old.
Z Mrs, Quickly means lunatic,
3) Dry thy eyes,

But that defences, musters , preparations,

1|Should be maintain’d, assembled, and collected,

As were a war in expectation.

)| Therefore, I say, ’tis meet we all go forth,

1| To view the sick and fee ble parts of F rance :

| And let us do it with no show of fear ;

|No, with no more, than if we heard that England
|\Vere busied with a Whitsun morris-dance :

or, my good liege, she is so idly king’d,

Her sceptre 80 fantastically borne
by a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,

That fear attends her not.

Con. O peace, prince dauphin!
You are too much mistaken in this king:
Question your grace the late ambassadors,—
With what great state he heard their embassy,

iow well supplied with no »ble counsellors,
[ow modest in exce ption,® and, withal,
fow terrible in constant resolution,—

And you shall find, his —— s fore-s] pent®
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly ;

\s gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate.

}

Dau. Well, ’tis not so, my lord high e =
But though we think it so, it is no matter
In cases of defence, ’lis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems,
So th proportions of defence are fill’d ;
Which, of a weak and niggardly projection,
Voth, like a miser, spoil his ¢ oat, with seanting
A little cloth.
'r. King. Think we king liarry strong
(nd, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet him.
The kindred of him hath be ‘en flesh’d upon US ;
And he is bred out of tha t bloody strain,’
hat haunted us in our familiar paths :

Witness our too much memorable shame,

When Cressy battle fat; lly was struck,

And all our prilige s capliv’d, by the hand

Of that black n , Edward black prince of Wales;

Whiles that his ‘mountain sire, —on mountain
landing,

|Up in ine air, crown’d with the golden sun,—
Saw his heroical seed, end smil’d to see him
Mange the aoa of nature, and deface

lhe patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
|Of that victorious stock: and let us fear

| The native mightiness and fate of him.

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Ambassadors from Henry king of England

|Do crave admittance to your majesty.

i'r. King. We'll give them present audience,
Go. and bring them.

|

|

' .

| [Exve. Mess. and certain Lords,
j

|

You see, this chace is hotly follow’d, friends,

(4) Render it callous, insensible.
(5) In making objections.
(6) Wasted, exhausted,

(7) Lineage,Scene I.

ogs

Must spend their mouths, when what they scem to

threaten,
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign,
Take up the English short ; and Jet them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting.

Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and train.

Fr. King.

He wills you, in the name of God Almighty,
‘That you divest yourself, and lay apart

The borrow’d glories, that, by gift of heaven,
By law of nature, and of nations, ‘long

To him, and to his heirs; namely, the crown,
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain,
By custom and the ordinance of times,

Unto the crown of France. That you may know,

’Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim,

Pick’d from the worm-holes of long-vanish’d days

Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak’d,
He sends you this most memorable line,

[ Gives a paper.)

In every branch truly demonstrative ;
Willing you, overlook this pedigree :
And, when you find him evenly deriy’d
From his most fam’d of famous ancestors,
Edward the third, he bids you then resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger.
Fr. King. Or else what follows ?

Exe. Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the crow

Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it :
And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove ;
(That, if requiring fail, he will compel ;)

And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy

On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws: and on your head
Turns he the widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries,

The dead men’s blood, the pining maidens’ groans, | ;

For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow’d in this controversy.

This is his claim, his threat’ning, and my message ;

Unless the dauphin be in presence here,
To whom expressly I bring greeting too.

Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this further:

To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England. é'
Dau. For the dauphin,

I stand here for him; What to him from England ?
Exe. Scorn, and defiance; slight regard, con-

tempt, :
And any thing that may not misbecome
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.

Thus says my king: and, if your father’s highness |

Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty,
He’ll call you to so hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide! your trespass, and return your mock
In second accent of his ordnance. _

Dau, Say, if my father render fair reply,
It is against my will: for I desire
Nothing but odds with England ; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
J did present him with those Paris balls.

(2) Bank or shere.

1) Resound, echo.
‘33 Sterns of the ships,

From our brother England ?
£xe. From him; and thus he greets your majesty,

Nir

KING HENRY Y, 447

Dau. Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward

Eve, He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe :
And, be assur’d, you'll find a difference
(As we, his subjects, have in wonder found, )
Between the promise of his greener days,

And these he masters now ; now he weighs time,
Even to the utmost grain; which you shall read
In your own losses, if he stay in France.
r. King. To-morrow shall you know our mind
at full.
Eve. seepe us with all speed, lest that our
king
|Come here himself to question our delay ;
| lor he is footed in this land already.

Fr, King. You shall be soon dispatch’d, with

fair conditions:
A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this consequence.
[Exeunt,

—p-——

ACT Ill.

Enter Chorus.

| Cho. Thus with imagin’d wing our swift scene
flies,

In motion of no less celerity

|Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen

‘The well-appointed king at Hampton pier

| Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet

| With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning,

i y . . . we . “3

|Play with your fancies; and in them behold,

| Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing ;

| Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give

 

| To sounds confus’d: behold the threaden sails,
| Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
| Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea,
| Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think,
You stand upon the rivage? and behold
|A city on the inconstant billows dancing ;
|For so appears this fleet majestical
| Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow!
|Grapple your minds to sternage® of this navy ;
|And leave your England, as dead midnight, still,
ruarded with grandsires, babies, and old women,
| Either past, or not arriv’d to, pith and puissance :
‘For who is he, whose chin is but enrich’d
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull’d and choice-drawn cayaliers to France?
Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege :
| Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
| With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
|Suppose, the ambassador from the French comes
back ;
Tells Harry—that the king doth offer him
| Katharine his daughter ; and with her, to dowry,
| Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms,
| The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock* now the devilish cannon touches,
[.dlarum : and chambers® go off.
|And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
|And eke out our performance with your mind.
[ Exit,
SCENE I.—The same. Before Harfleur. Ala-
rums, £nter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford,
Gloster, and soldiers, with scaling-ladders,
K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear friends,

once more; _ :
Or close the wall up with our English dead!

(4) The staff which holds the match used in firing
cannon,
(5) Small pieces of ordnance,ee eee

a a Se

448 KING HENRY Y.

In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man,

As modest stillness, and humility :

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger ;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage :

Then lend the eye a terrible aspéct ;

Let it pry through the portage of the head,

Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o’erwhelm it,

As fearfully, as doth a galled rock

O’erhang and jutty' his confounded? base,

Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ;

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

To his full height !—On, on, you noblest English,

Whose blood is fet? from fathers of war-prootf!

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,

Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought,

And sheath’d their swords for lack of argument.*

Dishonour not your mothers; now attest,

That those, whom you call’d fathers, did beget
you!

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war!—And you, good
yeomen,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear

That you ure worth your breeding: which I doubt
not ;

For there is none of you so mean and base,

That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

J see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

Straining upon the start. ‘The game’s aloot ;

Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge,

Cry—God for Harry! England! and Saint George!

[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.

SCENE II.—The same. Forces pass over; then

enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the
breach!

Nym, ’Pray thee, corporal, stay; the knocks
are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a
case of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is
the very plain-song of it.

Pist. The plain-song is most just; for humours

do abound ;
Knocks go and come ; God’s vassals drop and die ;
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.

Boy. Would I were in an ale-house in London!
I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.

Pist. And

If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie.

Act 111,

Nym. These be good humours !—your honour
\wins bad humours.
{Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, fol
owed by Fluellen.
Boy, As young as I am, I have observed these
‘three swashers. Iam boy to themallthree* butall
‘they three, though they would serve me, could not
Ibe man to me; for, indeed, three such anties do
‘not amount to a man. For Bardolph,—he is white-
livered, and red-faced; by the means whereof, ’a
faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol,—he hatha
killing tongue, and a quiet sword; by the means
whereof’a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons,
For Nym,—he hath heard, that men of few words
are the best? men; and therefore he scorns to say
his prayers, lest’a should be thought a coward; but
his few bad words are match’d with as few good
deeds; for ’a never broke any man’s head but his
own; and that was against a post, when he was
drunk. They will steal any thing, and eall it,—
purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case; bore it
twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence.
Nym and Bardolph, are sworn brothers in filching;
and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel: I knew, by
that piece of service, the men would carry coals.*
They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets,
as their gloves or their handkerchiefs : which makes
much against my manhood, if I should take from
another’s pocket, to put into mine; for it is plain
pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and
scek some better service: their villany goes against
my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up,

| Exit Boy.

Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following.

Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come present!
to the mines; the duke of Gloster would spea
with you.

Flu. To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not
so good to come to the mines: For, look you, the
mines is not according to the disciplines of the war;
the concayities of it is not sufficient; for, look
you, th’ athversary (you may discuss unto the duke,
look you,) is dight® himself four yards under the
countermines: by Cheshu, I think, ’a will plow?®
up all, if there is not better directions.

Gow. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of
the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish-
man; a very Valiant gentleman, i’faith.
| Flu. It is captain Maemorris, is it not?

Gow. I think, it be.

Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the orld: I
will verify as much in his peard: he has no more
directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look
iyou, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Enter Macmorris and Jamy, at a distance.
| Gow. Here ’a comes; and the Scots captain,

Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing|cantain Jamy, with him.

on bough.
Enter Fluellen.

| Flu, Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gens
\tleman, that is certain; and of great expedition,
jand knowledge, in the ancient wars, upon my par-

Flu. Got’s plood!—Up to the preaches, youjticular knowledge of his directions : by Cheshu, he

rascals! will you not up to the preaches ?

{ Driving them forward.

Pist. Be merciful, great duke,* to men ol mould !°®

Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage!
Abate thy rage, great duke!

Good baweock, bate thy rage! use lenity, sweet

chuck !

SG) A mole to withstand the encroachment of the

e.
(2) Worn, wasted, (3) Fetched,

\will maintain his argument as well as any military
jman in the ’orld, in the disciplines of the pristine
iwars of the Romans.

Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen.

Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy.

Gow. How now, captain Mucdworvts ? have you
quit the mines? have the pioneers given o’er ?

(4) Matter, subject. 5) Commander.
(6) Earth, (7) Bravest, (8) Pocket affronts,
| (9) Digged, (10) Blow.Scone IT, IV. KING HENRY V. 449
_Mae. By Chrish Ja, tish ill done: the work isn] And the flesh’d soldier,—rough and hard of heart,—

give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my|In liberty of bloody hand, shall range

rand, I swear, and by my father’s soul, the work! With conscience wide as hell ; mowing like grass

ish ill done; it ish give over: I would have blowed/ Your fresh-air virgins, and your flowering infants.

up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour.| What is it then to me, if impious war,—

a ish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish il] \rray’d in flames, like to the prince of fiends,—
done !

Do, with his smirch’d2 complexion, all fell? feats
Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will| Enlink’d to waste and desolation ?
you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with} What is’t to me, when you yourselves are cause,
you? as partly touching or concerning the disei-/ If your pure maidens fall into the hand
plines of the war, the Roman w ars, in the way of|Of hot and forcing violation ?
argument, look you, and frie ndly communication -| What rein can hold licentious wickedness,
partly, to satisfy nty opinion, and p irtly, for the} When down the hill he holds his fierce career ?

i
salisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the! Ws may as bootless4 spend our vain command

direction of the military discipline ; thatis the point, | Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil,
Jamy. It sall be very gud, gud feith, cud cap-/ As send precepts to the Leviathan
tains both: and | sal] quit! you W ith rud li ave, as lo ex me ashore, Therefore, you men of Harflew
I may pick oceasion; that sall I, marry. ake pity of your town, and of your people,
Mae. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saye|W hiles yet my soldiers are in my command ;
me, the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars,| Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
and the king, and the dukes: it is no time to dis- O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
course. The town is beseeched, and the trumpet/Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany.
if not, why, in a moment, look to see

calls ys to the breach: and we talk, and, by Chrish, If m | |

do nothing; ’tis shame for us all: so God sa’ me. he blind and bloody soldier with foul hand

*tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand: | Delile the ] eks of your shrill-shrieking daughters ;
and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done: | Your fathers taken by the silver beards,

and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me. la. And their most reverend heads dash’d to the walls ;

Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take! Your 1 iked infants spitted upon pikes ;
themselves to slumber, aile do gude service. or aile \\ hiles the mad mothers with their howls confus’d
ligge i’the grund for it; ay, or zo to death: and! Do br uk the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
alle pay it as valorously as I may, that sal] T su: I At rod’s blos dy-hunting slaughtermen. ;
do, that is the breff and the long: Mary, I wad full) What say you? will you yield, and this avoid ?
fain heard some question *tween you tway. Ur, guilty in defence, be thus destroy’d ?

Flu, Captain Macmorris, I think, look vou. G Our exp ctation hath this day an end:
under your correction, there is not many of your|The dauphin, whom of succour we entreated,
nation—— Returns us—that his powers are not yet ready —

Mac. Of my nation? What ish my nation? ish lo raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king,
a villain, and a bastard. and a knavy » and a rascal? W e yield our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy;
What ish my. nation? Who talks of my nation ? enter our gales ; dispose of us, and ours ;

Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise !] or we no longer are deft nsible, bathe
than is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, | AK. Hen. Open your galesernt ome, une e Exeter,
snall think you do not use me with that aff bility as|Go you and enter Harfleur ; uy re Fernie
in discretion you ought to use me. look you; being An \ fortify it strongly gainst the rene 1:
cet a man as yourself, both in the disciplines} Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,—
pe cas re aT we e A ale tion of my birt] , | in} The winter coming on, and sickness growing
eat uamodusiien Se Up yn our sold weet rele to Oa

Mac. 1 do not know you so good & man as my- l'o-night In Harfleur will we be your gues :

Dien ftlowtal I! cut off your hea )-morrow for the march are we addrest.
self: so Chrish save me, I will cut off your h : i O-M

{

ll mist ic] ‘lourt L ing, &c. enter the town.
Gow. Gentlemen b yin, you will mistake each [ Flourish. Thee King, c i
a“ F ; 1,7| SCENE IV.—Rouen. A room in the palace.
Jamy. Au! thal’sa foul fault. [. 1p irley sounded,

Enter Katharine and Alice.

An

; The Sa pariey. ; :
Gow, Fan town aan bd gps «2 there is re) Kath. Alice, tu as esté en Angleterre, et tu parles
Fiu. Captain Macmorris, when there is mort

Ir ~€ ill| dren le language.
better opportunity to be required, look you, I will

Lantinttnan si \lice. Un neu, madame.
. as e| ou cnow the disciplines of at , f ? ) . Sip *y
be 850 bold as to t Hl yo ’ ] | ! [Exe unt. Kx ith. J ti prie, mense ionez ; i faut O47 an
war ; and there is an end. prenne a parler. Comment appellez vous ta mam,

y APT Th » e fefore the gates of'.,., q izlors ?
SCENE IIl.—The same. Before the g ae re ae be, de he
et The Governor and some citizens on| Alice, Le main? elle est appellée, de hand,
€ e 7 ’ » ; ’ roo |
the wdlls: the English forces below. Enter Kath. De hand. Et les doigts ; ie les doiot
: , ; ] ‘ ras ‘ Sofe 9 ao y 9p 17 .
King Henry and his train. Alice. Les doigts ? ma foy, je oublie les doig Sy

af ‘mais je me souviendray. Les doigts? fe enseé
K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the| mais je me souvie y 8g Je p ’

) qwils sont appellé de fingres; ouy, de sip +
his f the Tate t parle we will admit: | Kath. Le main, de hand ; les doigts, de fingres,
This 1s the latest parle :

| e, que je sui . escolier, Jay gagné
7 ‘fore, to our best mercy give yourselves ; \Je pense, que je ne bon Mer. ee eM ne
— id of destraction deux mots @ Anelois vistement. PP ewe;
Or, like to men prou stra ‘ : ee ey

rst: for, as Iam a soldier vous les ongles ;
fe dott an oe. vans ts, becomes me best ) Alice. Les ongles ? les appellons, de nails. al
Pt omer rag ae made in . F Kath. De nails. Escoutez ; Osh OY si je
mori » battery once aga : De nai SC |

r — vd tt » he if-achieved Harfleur, iparle bien ; de hand, de fingres, ab pa s re
at 7 ar ‘h i buried Alice, C'est bien dit, madame; il est fi an
Till in her ashes she lie . | nae
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up; | Anglo

(4) Without success, (5) Prepared,

(1) Requite, answer. (2) Soiled, (8) Cruel, aseen cu

ae pore.

 

450 KING HENRY YV. Act If,
Kath. Dites moy en Anglois, le bras. |Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat ?
Alice. De arm, madame. 'And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Kath. Et le coude. ‘Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,

Alice. De eibow. ‘Let us not hang like roping icicles

Kath. De elbow. Je m’en faitz la repetition de Upon our houses’ thatch, whiles a more frosty
tous les mots, que vous m’avez appris dés a present. people

Alice. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields ;
pense. Poor—we may call them, in their native lords.

Kath. Excusez moy, Alice; escoulez:; De hand,| Dau. By faith and honour,
de fingre, de nails, de arm, de bilbow. Our madams mock at us; and plainly say,

Alice. De elbow, madame. Our mettle is bred out; and they will give

Kath. O Seigneur Dieu ! je m’en oublie; De el-| Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
bow. Comment appellez vous le col ? To new-store France with bastard warriors.

Alice. De neck, madame. Bour. They bid us—to the English dancing
Kath. De neck: Et le menton ? schools,

Alice. De chin. |And teach lavoltas* high, and swift corantos ;
Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck: le menton, de|Saying, our grace is only in our heels,

|
|
}
|

sin. And that we are most lofty runaways.
Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur; en verité| Fr. King. Where is Montjoy, the herald? speed

vous prononces les mols aussi droict que les natifs| him hence ;

d’ Angleterre. Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.—
Kath. Je ne doute point d’apprendre par la\Up, princes; and, with spirit of honour edg’d,

grace de Dieu; et en peu de temps. More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:

' Alice, N’avez vous pas deja oublié ce que je vous| Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France ;

ay enseignée ? You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,

ath. Non, je reciteray a vous promplement.|Alencgon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy ;

De hand, de fingre, de mails. Jaques, Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Alhece. De nails, madame. |Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. \Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois ;
Alice. Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow. ‘High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and
Kath. Ainsi dis je ; de elbow, de neck, et de sin: knights,

Comment appellez vous le pieds et la robe ? |For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
Alice. De foot, madame ; et de con. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
Kath. De foot, ef de con? O Seigneur Dieu !| With penons® painted in the blood of Harfleur:

ces sont mots de son mauvais, corrupltible, grosse,| Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
et impudique, et non pour les dames d’honnewr|Upon the valleys; whose low vassal seat
@user: Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant|The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon:
les seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde, Ji|Go down upon him,—you have power enough,—
faut de foot, et de con, neant-moins. Je recilerai| And in a captive chariot, into Rouen

une autre fois ma legon ensemble: De hand, de| Bring him our prisoner

fingre, de nails, de arm, de clbow, de neck, de sin,| Con. This becomes the great.
de foot, de con. Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, r
Alice. Excellent, madame ! His soldiers sick, and famish’d in their march ;
Kath. C’est assez pour une fois; allons nous a|For, I am sure, when he shall see our army,
disner. [Exeunt. | He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear, ©

. p , ‘ And, for achievement, offer us his ranso
SCENE V.—The same. Another room in the|” py Kine. Therefore lord pets «pag be te on
same. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, | aie. ’ ’
ce } he Constable of France, a con ae
ae, Bourbon, the Constable of France, and) 49 Jet him say to England, that we send
— : 'To know what willing ransom he will give.—
Fr. King. ’Tis certain, he hath pass’d the river| Prince dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.

Some. | Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, | Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with
Let us not live in France ; let us quit all, | A ies
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. | Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all;

Dau. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,—| And quickly bring us word of England’s fall.
The emptying of our fathers’ luxury,! [ Exeunt,

 

Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, a — — 5
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, SCENE } 1.— The English Camp tm Picardy.
And overlook their grafters ? Enter Gower and Fluellen. *
Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman _ Gow. How now, captain Fluellen? come you
bastards ! from thé bridge ? :
Mort de ma vie! if they march along _flu. T assure you, there is very excellent ser-
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, vice committed at the pridge.
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe ?
In that nook-shotten? isle of Albion. Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as
Con. Dieu ci battailes ! where have they this Agamemnon ; and a man that I love and honour
mettle 7 with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull? life, and my livings, and my uttermost powers: he
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, is not (Got be praised, and plessed!) any hurt in
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, |the orld ; but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with
A drench for sur-rein’d? jades, their barley broth, |excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at
(J) Lust. (2) Projected. (3) Over-strained, (4) Dances. (5) Pendants, small flags,Scene V/.

as valiant as Mark Antony ; ar
estimation in the ’orld: but I
lant service.
Gow, What do you call him ?
Fiu. He js ealled—ancient Pistol.
Gow. I know him net.

did see him do g

Enter Pistol.
Flu. Do you not know him’

The duke of Exeter doth love thee we!].*

i . . .
Yu. Ay, I praise Got ; and I have merited some|! will tell him my mind [Drum heard

love at his hands.

Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound o

heart,
Of buxom valour,! hath,—by cruel fate,
And giddy fortune’s furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone,—
Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol.
is painted plind, with a muiller? be

painted also with a wheel; to signify to you
which is the moral of it, that she is turning, anc

her foot, look you, is fixed upon as

which rolls, and rolls, and rolls ;—In good truth

ry}
)

fortune: fortune, look you, is an excellent moral.

. . . “a . [Ory creor rery rece ‘ . ehAaa? «
Pist. Fortune is Bardolph’s foe, and frowns on|¥ery great, very reasonable great :

him ;
For he hath stolen a piz,? and hanged
A damned death!

Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,

And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate :

But Exeter hath given the doom of death,

For pix of little price.

Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy voice ;
And let not Bardolph’s vital thread be cut

With edge of penny cord, and vile reproach :

Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite,

id he is a man of no|the enemy stood on
al-ithe phrase of war, which t

’ Here comes the man.
se :
Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours:

pherical stone,

’

the poet is make a most excellent description of

| must a’ be,

KING HENRY Y,.
the pridge,—I think, in my very conscience, he js|

45]

bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms
; and this they con perfectly in
hey trick up with new-
(tuned oaths: And what a beard of the general’s
cut, and a horrid suit of the camp, will do among
|loaming bottles, and ale-washed wits, is wonderful
ito be thought on! But you must learn to know such
jslanders ot the age, or else you may be marvellous
imistook,

| Flu. I tell you what, captain Gower ;—I do per-
|ceive he is not the man that he would gladly make
show to the ’orld he is ; if f find a hole in his coat,

& d.| Hark you,
the king is coming ; and I must speak with him
{com the pridge.
j yr. ‘ ye

Enter King Henry, Gloster, and soldiers,
| Flu. Got pless your majesty !
K. Hen. How now, Fluellén ?

: camest thou from
the bridee ?

Fortune! Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of

fore her eyes, to Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge ;
: “ip . : : . ; » Reena “- » at wor -
sivnify to you that fortune js plind: And she is|the French is gone off; look you ;

and there is gal-

lant and most prave passages: Marry, th’athversary
i;Wwas have possession of the pridge; but he is en-
inconstant, and Variations, and mutabilities: and|foreed to retire, and the duke of Exeter ;

1S master
of the pridge: T can tell your majesty, the duke
is a prave man.

K, Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen ?
| lu. The perdition of th’athversary hath been
marry, for my
part, I think the duke hath lost never a man, but
/one that is like to be executed for robbing a church,
jone Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his
face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and
flames of fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and
it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue, and some-
times red; but his nose is executed, and his fire’s out.

K, Hen. We would have all such offenders so
cut off:—and we give express charge, that in our
marches through the country, there be nothing com-
pelled from the villages, nothing taken but peud for:

, the ai one of the French upbraided, or abused in dis-
Flu. Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand|"one of the Fr ,

your meaning. ;

Pist. Why then rejoice therefore.

Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to re-
joice at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I
would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and
put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be
used,

Pist. Die and be damned; and figo* for thy|

friendship !
Flu. It is well.
Pist. The fig of Spain!
Flu. Very good.
Gow. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal ;
I remember him now; a bawd, a cut-purse.

[Evil Pistol.

hve BN avin Srnacla
Flu. Vll assure you, a’ utter’d as prave ’ords at|

; le ay «
the pridge, as you shall see in a summer’s day:
But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that
is well, I warrant you, when time is sérve.

dainful language ; For when lenity and cruelty
play for a kingdom, the gentler gaumester is the
soonest winner.

Tucket sounds. Enter Montjoy.

Mont. You know me by my habit.®
K. Hen. Well then, I know thee; What shall
I know of thee ?

Mont. My master’s mind.

K. Hen. Unfold it.

‘Mont. Thus says my king :—Say thou to Harry
of England, Though we seemed dead, we did but
sleep: Advantage is a better soldier, than rash-
ness. Tell him, we could have rebuked him at
Harfleur ; but that we thought not good to bruise
an injury, till it were full ripe :—now we speak
upon our cue,” and our voice is imperial: England
shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and

  

: + Fictions Ja os 2: . mien Ceo =
Gow. Why, ’tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now admire our suflerance. id him, therefore, an
aniithes dene te the wars, to grace himself, at his|sider of his ransom ; which mah Noe e
' rah tp , the for "as I sses we have borne, the su yjects we have los
, fasoldier. And/losses we have borne, tl we | ‘ost,
return to London, under the form o ithe diserace: te tote diet ee
such fellows are perfect in great commanders’ the disgrace we have dige sted ; ern de marge
names: and they will learn you by rote, where ser-|to re-answer, his pettiness would )0W unc a ba
vices were done:—at such and such a sconce,* at/our losses, his exchequer is too oo i for 1e ~~
. Pot rg. ty ae , ‘ ster cingdom too
such a breach, at such a convoy ; who came off sion of our blood, the muster of his one m
: oe faint a number ; and for our disgrace, his own per«
(1) Valour under good command. | 5 allan : in Spain andliele
ine i lally cov 4) An allusion to the custom in Spain and Ita Ys
2 *n which partially covered the) (4) An allt
fi a 7. oe ,' . of giving poisoned figs. ae
nia I | (5) An entrenchment hasti y thrown up.
in which were kept the conse-| (5) An ”
oy a wom ae f (6) te, By his herald’s coat. (7) In our turn,
Grated wafers,hors

ele

Ah aca

 

{

452 KIN

son, kneeling at our feet, but a weak and worth- |
less satisfaction. To this add—defiance: and te ll)
him, for cone lusion, he hath betrayed his fallowe rs,
whose condemnation is pronounced, So far my|
king and master ; so much my office

K. Hen. What is thy name? I know thy quality,

Mont. Montioy.

K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly.

bac i,

And tell thy king,—I do not seek him now ;
But could be willing to march on to Calais,
Without impeachment ;! for, to say the sooth,
(Though ’tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage, )
My people are with sickness much enfeebled ;
My numbers lessen’d; a ind those few
Almost no better than so many [rench ;
Who when they were in hi ealth, [ tell thee, herald,
I thought, upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen.—Y et, forgive me, God, |
That I do brag thus !—this your air of France |}
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.

Turn thee

 

fe
|

Go, therefore, tell thy master, here lam;

My ransom, is t this frai | and worthl ss trunk ;
My army, but a weak and sickly guard ;
Yet, God before 2 tell } him we will come on,
Thoug! 1 France himself, cd such another neigh-|

bour,
Stand in our way. There’s for thy labour, Montjoy. |
Go, bid thy master well advise himself:
will; if we b Bnaen Gs

If we may pass, we
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour: and so, Montjoy, fare you Wall, |
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle, as we are;

e say, we will not shun it;

Nor, as we are, w
So tell your mast
Mont. I shall deliver so, Thanks to your high-
ness. [Exit Montjoy.

Glo. I hope they will not come upon us now,
K. Hen. We are in God’s hand, brother, not in
theirs.
March to the bridge ; it now draws toward night:—

Beyond the river we 4H encamp ourselves ;

And on to-morrow bid them march away. [Eze
SCENE VII.— French camp, near Agin-
court, Enter ‘ stable of France, the Lord
Rambures the Dut e of Orleans, Dauphin, and]
others.

?

?
Con. Tut! I have the best armour of the world.
*W ould, it were day!
Orl. You have an execlient armour;
norse have his due.
Con. It is the best horse of Murope.
Orl. Will it never be morning ?!

Dau. My lord of Orleans, and my lord high
constable, you talk of horse and armour,—
Orl. You are as well provided of both,

prince in the world.
Dau. What a long nieht is this!'——I-vill not
change my horse wit!

}
but let my]

is any

ith any that treads but on four
pasterns. Ca, ha! He bounds from the earth, as
if his entrails were hairs ;* le cheval volant, the
Pegasus, qui ales narinesde feu! When I bestride
him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the
earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of
nis hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes,
Orl. He’s of the colour of the nutmeg
Dau. And of the heat of the ginger.
peast for Perseus: h«

It 1s a
»is pure air and fire; and the

‘1) Hinderance.

i HENRY Y.

|posed to my courser ;

 

3 Then used for God being my guide,

      
     
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
    
 
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
    
     
  
 
   
       
    
    
   
  
   
     
 
   
 
   
  
   
  
 
    
  
         

Act Ll

dull elements of earth and water never appear ;
him, but only in patient stillness, while his rid:
| mounts him: he is, indeed, a horse ; and all oth
jades you may call-—beasts.

Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute ar.
excellent horse

Dau, It is the prinee of palfreys; his neigh
like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenanc
enforces homage.

Orl. No more, cousin.

Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit, that eanno’
from the risit iz of the lark to the lodging of tl
lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey: it is
theme as fluent as the sea; turn the sands into ek
quent tongues, and my horse is argument for the)
1: ’tis a subje c t for a sovereign Lo reason on, ar

for a sovereign’s sovereign to ride on ; and fi

Ithe world (familiar to us, and unknown,) to k

apart their particular fune tions, and w onder at hin
i once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus

WV onder of nature,—
Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one

|mistress.

Dau. Then did they imitate. that which I eon
for my horse is my mistres:
Orl. Your mistress bears well.
Dau. Me well; which is the prescript prai:
and perfection of a good and particular mistress.
Con. Ma foy! the other day, methought, you

‘mistress shrewdly shook your back,

Dau. So, perhaps, did yours.

Con. Mine was not bridled.

Dau. O! then, belike, she was old and gentle
and you rod ., like a kern 1e* of Ireland, your Frenc
T, a nd} in your strait trossers, ®

Con. You have good judgment in horsemanshij

Dau. Be warned by me then; they that ride s:
and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs; I he
rather have my horse to my mistress.

Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade.

Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress wea

1 ;
nose oi

lher own hair.

Con. I could make as true a boast as that, if

thad a sow to mv mistress.

Dau. Le chien est relourné d son propre vomiss:
ment, et la truie lavée au bourbier: thou make:
use of any thing.

Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress
or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose,

Ram. My lord constable, the armour, that

saw in your tent to-night, are those stars, or sun:
upon it?

Con. Stars, my lord.

Paw. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope

Con, And yet my sky shall not want.

Dau. That may be, for you bear a many superflu
ously; and ’twere more honour, some were away
Con. Even as your horse bears your praises
who would trot as well, were some of your brag

dismounted.

Dau. *Would I were able to load him with hi
desert! Will it never be day? I will trot to-mor
row a mile, and my way shall be paved with Eng
lish faces.

Con. I will not say so, for fear I should b.
faced out of my way: But I would it were morn
ing, for I would fain be about the ears of th
English.

Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty
English prisoners ?

(3) Alluding to the bounding of tennis-balls,
which were stuffed with hair.

(4) Soldier, (5) Trowsers,Scene J,

Con. You must first go evurself to hazard, ere|only stomachs to eat

you have them.
Dau. *Tis midnight, Pl] go arm myself. [Evit.
Ori. The dauphin longs for morning.
Ram. He longs to eat the Enclish.
Con. I think, he will eat all he kills.
Orl. By the white hand of my lady, he’s a gal-
lant prince.

Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out!

the oath.
Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentleman
of France.
Con. Doing is activity: and he will still be doing.
Orl, He never did harm, that I heard of.

’ 7 5 :
Con. Nor will do none to-morrow; he will keep

that good name still.

Orl. I know him to be valiant.

Con. I was told that, by one that knows him
better than yeu. ;

Orl. What's he?

Con. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said,
he cared not who knew it.

Orl. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him.

Con. By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body
saw it, but his lackey: ’tis a hooded valour ;
when it appears, it will bate.!

Orl. Ili will never said well.

Con. I will cap that proverb with—There is
flattery in friendship.

Orl, And I will take up that with—Give th
devil his due.

Con. Well placed; there stands your friend for
the devil: have at the very eye of that proverb,
with—A pox of the devil. ©

Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by how
much—A fool’s bolt is soon shot.

Con. You have shot over.

Orl. ’Tis not the first time you were ovérshot.

and,

Enter a Messenger.

Wess; My lord high constable, the English lie
within fileen hundred paces of your tent,

Con. Who hath measured the ground ?

Mess. The lord Grandpré.

Con, A valiant and most expert gentleman.—
W ould it were day!—Alas, poor Harry of England!
—he longs not for the dawning, as we do.

Orl, What a wretched and peevish? fellow is
this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained
followers so far out of his knowledge!

Con. Hf the English had any apprehension, they
would run away.

Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any
intellectual armour, they could never wear such
heavy head-pieces.

Ram. That island of England breeds very valiant
creatures; their mastifis are of unmatchablecourage.

Orl. Foolish curs! that run winking into the
mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads
crushed like rotten apples: You may as well say,—
that’s a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on
the lip of a lion.

Con, Just, just; and the men do sympathize with
the mastiffs, in robustious and rough coming on,
leaving their wits with their wives: and then give
them great meals of beef, and iron, and steel, they
will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.

Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of

beef.

Con. Then we shall find to-morrow—they have

(1) An equivoque in terms in falconry: he means,
his valour is hid from every body but his lackey,
and when it appears it will fall off,

KING HENRY Y. 453

}o , and none to fight. Now is it
jtume to arm: Come, shall we about it?

| Orl. It is now two o’elock : but, let me see,—by

ten,

| We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. [Ezxe,

|

—{>—__.

ACT IV.

’

Enter Chorus.

}
|
|
}

}

|__Chor. Now entertain conjecture of a time,

hen creeping murmur, and the poring dark,
ills the wide vessel of the universe.
rom camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
he hum of either army stilly? sounds,
hat the fix’d sentinels almost receive
t

\
E
E

,
,
The secret whispers of each other’s watch :

Mire answers fire ; and through their paly flames
ach battle sees the other’s umber’d? face :

Stee d threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night’s dull ear ; and from the tents,
Ane armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

lhe country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Croud of their numbers, and secure in soul,

he confident and over-lusty® French

Do the low-rated English play at dice ;

{nd chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,

Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires

Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning’s danger; and their gesture sad,
investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
|Presenteth them unto the gazing moon

50 many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold
|The royal captain of this ruin’d band,
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,

ct him cry—Praise and glory on his head !
or forth he goes, and visits all his host ;
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile ;
\nd calls them—brothers, friends, and countrymen.
Upon his royal face there is no note,
How dread an army hath enrounded him ;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,

With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plueks comfort from his looks:

\ largess universal, like the sun,

His liberal eye doth give to every one,

Thawing cold fear. ‘Then, mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,

A little touch of Harry in the night:

And so our scene must to the battle fly ;

Where (0 for pity!) we shall much disgrace—
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,

Right ill-dispos’d, in brawl ridiculous,—

The name of Agincourt: Yet, sit and see ;
|Minding® true things, by what their oe oe be.

vit.

\SCENE 1.—The English camp at Agincourt.
Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloster.
| K. Hen. Gloster, ’tis true, that we are in great

| danger ;

 

(2) Foolish. (3) Gently, lowly.
(4) Discoloured by the gleam of the fires.
| (5) Over-saucy. (6) Calling to remembrance,454 KING HENRY Y. Act 1P ;

The greater therefore should our courage be.— ? | K. Hen. It sorts well* with your fierceness,
Good-morrow, brother Bedford.—God Almighty! - . . se
There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Enter Fluellen and Gower, severally.

Would men observingly distil it out ; Gow. Captain Fluellen !

For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, | Flu. So! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry : ower. Itis the greatest admiration in the univer-

esides, they are our outward consciences, sal ‘orld, when the true and auncient prerogatifes
And preachers to us all; admonishing, jand laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take

That we should dress us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
And make a moral of the devil himsell.

ithe pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the
|Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is
no tiddle taddle, or pibble pabble, in Pompey’s
icamp; I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies
lof the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of
lit, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to
lbe otherwise.

Enter Erpingham.

Good-morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft pillow for that good white head

Were better than a churlish turf of France. | Gow. Why, the enemy is loud; you heard him
Erp. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me all night.
better, | iu. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a

Since I may say—novw lie I like a king. iprating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we

K. Hen. ’Tis good for men to love their present| should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a
pains, |prating coxcomb ; in your own conscience now ?

Gow. I will speak lower.

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.

[Exeunt Gower and Fluellen.
K. Hen. Thouzh it appear a little out of fashion,

There is much care and valour in this Welshman.

Upon example; so the spirit is eased:
And, when the mind is quicken’d, out of doubt,
The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move
With casted slough! and fresh legerity.?
Lend me thy cloak, sir Thomas.—Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp ;
Do my good-morrow to them ; and, anon,
Desire them all to my pavilion.
Glo. We shall, my liege. [Eave. Glo. and Bed.
Erp. Shall I attend your grace?

Enter Bates, Court and Williams.

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn-
ing which breaks yonder ?

Bates. 1 think it be: but we have no great cause
to desire the approach of day.

K. Hen. No, my good knight ; “ee ai
Go with my brothers 40 my Lada ial Rindlant t ; Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day,
Ath Ut Ss A shy 3 iQUie Le 4 Ae . i ; . : a Me,” ‘ =. : . ad
I and my bosom must debate a while, ie i wey en shall never see the end of it.
‘ woes there !
And then I would no other company. | Fhe gots there!

K. Hen. A friend.

Will. Under what captain serve you?

K. Hen. Under sir Thomas Erpingham.

Will. A good old commander, and a most kind

igentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our estate ?

 K., Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that
Pist. Qui va la? look to be washed off the next tide.
K. Hen. A friend. Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king?
Pist. Discuss unto me; art thou officer ; K. Hen. No: noritis not meet he should. For,

Or art thou base, common, and popular? ‘though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a
K. Hen. Lama gentleman of a company. j}man, as Iam: the violet smells to him, as it doth
Pist. Trailest thou the puissant pike ? to me ; the element shows to him, as it doth to me ;
K. Hen. Even so: What are you? ‘all his senses have but human conditions :* his cere-
Pist. As cood a gentleman as the emperor. ‘monies laid by, in his nakedness he appears buta
K. Hen. Then you are better than the king. man; and though his affections are higher mounted
Pist. The king’s a bawcock, anda heart of gold, than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with

A lad of life, an imp? of fame ; ithe like wing; therefore, when he sees reason of

Of parents good, of fist most valiant: ifears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the

I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings same relish as ours are: Yet, in reason, no man

I love the lovely bully. What's thy name? ‘should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest
K. Hen. Harry le Roy. the, by showing it, should dishearten his army.
Pist. i124 Roy ' a Cornish name: art thou of| Bates. He may show what outward courage he

Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
[xv Erpingham. |

K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart ! thou speakest |
cheerfully.

Ay on Ute
Enter Pistol.

Cornish crew ? |will: but, I believe, as cold a night as ’tis, he could
K. Hen. No, I ama Welshman. Ii ish himself in the Thames up to the neck; and so
Pist. Knowest thou Fluellen ? |1 would he were, and I by him, at all adventures,

K. Hen. Yes. |SO we were quit here.
Pist. Tell him, Vl knock his leek about his pate, | _K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience
Upon Saint Davy’s day. lof the king ; I think, he would not wish himself any
K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your| Where but where he is.
cap that day, lest he knock that about yours, : Bates. Then *would he were here alone; so
Pist. Art thou his friend ? should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor
K. Hen. And his kinsman too, Imen’s lives saved.
ist. The figo for thee then! | d. Hen. I dare say, you love him not eo ill, te
K. Hen. 1 thank you: God be with you! ‘wish him here alone ; howsoever you speak this, te
ist. My name is Pistol called. [ Exit, feel other men’s minds: Methinks, I could not die
(1) Slough is the skin which serpents annually ) Lightness, nimbleness,

7 (2
throw off, (3) Son. (4) Agrees, (5) Qualities,Scene I KING HENRY Y. 455
any where so contented, as in the king’scompany;| K. Hen. I myself heard the king say, he would
HW ul, That’s more than we know. Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully :
Bates. Ay, or 1 but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed,
for we know enough, if we know we

7 be wrong, our obedience to} K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his

the king wipes the crime of it out of us. lword after.
Will. But, i l, the king _ Will. ’Mass, you'll pay* him then! That’s a pee
eavy reckoning to make; when all/rilous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and pri-
battle, shall join together at the latter d ty,’ and/as well go about to turn the sun to ice, with fanning
cry all—We died at

his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable. not be ransomed,
r more than we should seek after:
We} are the king’s|and-we ne’er the wiser,
subjects ; if his cause be
the cause be not good

himself hath a he

those legs, and arms, and hi ads, chopped off in a vate displeasure can do against a monarch! you may
sucha place ; Some, Swearing ;|in his face witha peacock’s feather. You'll never

some, crying for a surgeon: some, upon their wives /trust his word after ! come, ’tis a foolish saying !
left poor behind them: son €, upon the debts they} K, Hen. Your reproof is something too round ;§
OWe; some, upon their children raw ly? left. Tamil should be angry with you, if the time were cone

afeard there are lew die we ll, that die Mn battle : venient.

for how can they charitably dispose of any thing,! Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live,

when blood is their argument? Now, if these men| AK. Hen. I embrace it.

do not die well, it will be a black matter forthe} Wéill. How shall I know thee again ?

king that led them to it: whom to disobey, wer K. fen. Give me any gage of thine, and I will
wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest

sent acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the! Will. Here’s my glove ; give me another of thine.

sea, the imputation of his wickedne: s, by your rule, K. Hen. There.

should be imposed upon his father t en

against all proportion of subjection.

K. Hen. So, if a s n, thatis by his father
;
]

atsent him: or| Wéill. This will I also wear in my cap: if ever
ifa servant, under his master’s command. transport-| thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, This is
ing a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die| mu glove, by this hand, I will take thee a box on
in many irreconciled iniquiti: s, you may call the'the ear.
business of the master the author of the si rvant’s| A. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
damnation :—But this is not so: the king is not Hill. Thou darest as well be hanged.
bound to answe rth p iruicular endings of his si l- K. Hen. Well, I will do it, though I take thee
diers, the father of his son, nor the master of his/in the king’s company.
servant; for they purpose not their death, when Wil. Keep thy word: fare thee well.

they purpose their services. Besides, there is no! Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends ;
king, be his cause 1 potles it come to| we have French quarrels enough, if you could tell
the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all/ how to reckon.

unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on| K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty

them the guilt of premeditated and contrived mur-|French crowns to one, they will beat us; for the
der; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken|bear them on their shoulders : But it is no Englis

seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bul- treason, to cut French crowns ; and, to-morrow,
wark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of the king himself will be a clipper. [Exe. Soldiers.
yeace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men|Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,

iaind defeated the law; and out-run native punish-/Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and

;

ment,? though they can outs rip men, they have no} Our sins, lay on the king ;—we must bear all.

wings to fly fromi God: war is his beadle, war is!O hard condition! twin-born with greatness,
his vengeance ; so that here men are punished, for/Subjécted to the breath of every fool,

before-breach of the king’s laws, in now the king’s| W hose sense no more can feel SELMAN Se
quarrel: where they feared the death, o y have mee Ve ae must kings neglect,
> life away; a vhere they would be safe,/That private men enjoy 1

worn = . Th : Gea, —. ided, no more} And veh’ have kings, that privates have not too,
ee ee eet at; han he was|Sayve ceremony save general ceremony ?
is the king guilty of their damnation, than hi was|Sayc weremony, gene a y2
before cuilty of those impieties for the which they| And what art thou, thou ido cere mony $

snow isited. Every subject’s duty is the king’s ;| What kind of god art thou, that sufler st more
on ig - Sablibets soul is his own. Therefore Of mortal eriefs, than do thy worshippers ? :
aude oder soldier in the wars do as every sick What are thy rents ? ne es thy poner ate
man in his bed, wash every mote out of his con- O ceremony, show - put y worth !
science: and dying so, death is to him advantage ; What is the soul of ac — ~ ye
or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein| Art thou aught else but place, Reape, and form,
‘theta vas gained: and, in him that! Creating awe and fear in other men ?
Oae oaere dee he Sethink ‘that making God| Wherein thou art less happy being fear’d
aaas et him outlive tha lay to see Than they in fearing.
thi ina 2 sah ote how thes aipela What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
aes ' But poison’d flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
Will. ’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the| And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
ill ‘ ice his ovata the king is not to answer)/Think’st thou, the fiery fever will go out

I
3]

it With titles blown from adulation ? cee
Bal Id t desire he should answer for me ;| Will it give place to flexure and low bending 7 ;

ey 1 c rane Bi . fi rht lustily for him. Canst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s
and yet I determine to fight lustily fo | pny |

(1) The last day, the day of judgment. ‘Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,

ec last day, the day ol Jucgme! |

(2) Suddenly. an . (8) "Too zdugh

3) i -unishment in their native country. | (9 igh. vies oie

tS) To hake iatfinn to bring to account, to} (6) ‘What is the real worth and intrinsic value

(4) To pay here signifies to bring é } oe

h , . lof adoration 7

punisSe eRe bo

ad ae eee %

eae

_—

aR LET TTT SE TREO I oF EER

riertaitacneactnes

456 KING H

That play’st so subtly with a king’s repose ;
J am a king, that find thee; and I know,
ITis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced! title running ’fore the king,

The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ;
Who, with a body all'd, and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful bread ;

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ;

But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,

Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,

Doth rise, and help Hyperion? to his horse ;

And follows so the ever-running year,

With profitable labour, to his grave:

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

The slave, a member of the country’s peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab-

sence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
K. Hen. Good old knight,

Collect them all together at my tent:
Vl be before thee.
rp. I shall do’t, my lord. [Evit.

K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers’

hearts !
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them !—N ot to-day, O Lord,
O not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard’s body have interred new ;
And on it have bestow’d more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither’d hands hold up
Towards heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will { do:
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth ;
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloster.

Glo. My liege!

K. Hen, My brother Gloster’s voice ?—Ay ;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee :—
The day, my friends, and all things, stay for me.

[ Exeunt.

SCENE I.—The French camp. Enter Dauphin,
Orleans, Rambures, and others.
Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords.
Dau. Montez a cheval :—My horse! valet! lac-
quay! ha!

Orl. O brave spirit!

(1) Farced is stuffed. The tumid puffy titles with

which a king’s name is introduced.

2) The sun.

$) An old encouraging exclamation.
4) Do them out extinguish them,

 

ENRY VY. Act IV.
Dau. Via —les eaux et la terre——
Orl. Rien puis ? Vair etle feu
Dau. Ciel! cousin Orleans.——
Enter Constable.
| Now, my lord constable ! ,
Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service
neigh.
Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their
hides ;

|
'That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
| And dout* them with superfluous courage : Ha!
| Ram. What, will you have them weep our
horses’ blood /
| How shall we then behold their natural tears?
| Enter a Messenger.
| Mess. The English are embattled, you French
peers.
| Con. To horse, you.gallant princes ! straight to
| horse :

Do but behold yon poor and starved band,

And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands ;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins,

To give each naked curtle-axe a stain,
| That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
'And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on
them,

The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them.

Tis positive ’gainst all exceptions, lords,

That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants,—
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm
‘About our squares of battle,—were enough

To purge this field of such a hilding® foe ;

Though we, upon this mountain’s basis by,

Took stand for idle speculation:

But that our honours must not. What’s to say?
\ very little little let us do,

And al! is done. ‘Then let the trumpets sound
The tueket-sonuance,® and the note to mount:
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall crouch down in fear, and yield.

' Enter Grandpré.
Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of
France ?
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour’dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains” poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar’d host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps,
Their horsemen set like fixed candlesticks,
| With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips .
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ;
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal* bit
‘Lies foul with chew’d grass, still and motionless ;
| And their executors, the knavish crows,
|Fly o’er them all, impatient for their hour.
|Description cannot suit itself in words,
'To démonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay
for death.
Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh

suits,

(5) Mean, despicable.

(6) The name of an introductory flourish on the
trumpet.

(7) Colours,

 

(8) Ring.And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them ? | Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,—
Con. I stay but for my guard; On, to the tield :| Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d :

I will the banner from a trumpet take, This story shall the good man teach his son;

And use it for my haste, Come, come away! )And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,

The sun is high, and we outwear the day. [| £xve.| From this day to the ending of the world,

‘sind ni - ee ; | But we in it shall be remembered:

SCENE III.— The English camp. Enter the We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ;
English host; Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, Salis- lor he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
bury, and Westmoreland, Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

Glo. Where is the king ?

| Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,

| This day shall gentle his condition :2
r . ° . . ‘ : ne « lle me ' “ mic y -
Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. \n ; oe nin England, *d. the bed, h
West. Of fighting men they have full threeseore Shall t ink themselves accurs’d, t i not here ;
: And hold their manhoods cheap, while any s eaks
thousand, That foucht witt st. Chispin’s d ’
Exe. There’s five to one: beside s, they all are} 4at tought with us upon St. rispin's Gay.
fresh,
Sal, God’s arm strike with us! ’tis a fearful odds ;
, = . ? t Me ke ; mf Sa ice 4 . S ] ms ‘ oBl w ‘ ;
God be wi’ you, princes all! Ill to my charge: - a ane reign lord, bestow yourself with
If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven, tte bi. Se nas : ‘
Then, joyfully nae noble lord of Bedford. {he french are bravely? in their battles set,
’ ” a . — . ? : t . ; 3 ee ' i} ; . » sF ' , . »4 , £
My dear lord Gloster,—and my good lord Exeter,—| 424 will with all expedience* charge on us,

Enter Salisbury.

And my kind kinsman,—warriors all, adieu! ce "? aacaeee ney nee oot Lo.
Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury ; and good luck | sie ~ A TS RON, WROSS ED
ro with thee ! rage.

7 ‘ ® : . ; "
Exe. Farewell, kind lord: fight y liantly to-day ;

And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram’d of the firm truth of val yur,

Kk. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from
Eneland, cousing
West. God’s will, my liege, ’would you and I

|

[ Exit Salisbury. + alone, : . his batt] t!
Bed. He is as full of valour. as of | Sadness Wi hout more help, might fight this ba e out!
Sins in both a: . "| dt. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish’d five
oth, :

thousand men ;
Which likes me better, than to wish us one.—
'You know your places: God be with you all!
*n thousand of those men in Eneclan in .
But one ten thou and of t iose men j rland, | Tucket.’ Enter Montjoy.
That do no work to-day ! : ;
K. Hen. What’s he that wishes so z Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king
My cousin Westmoreland 7?—No, my fair cousin: | Harry,
If we are mark’d to die, we are enough ‘If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
To do our country loss; and if to live, ‘fore thy most assured overthrow:
The fewer men, the greater share of honour. ‘or, certainly, thou art so near the gulf, :
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. |Thou needs must be englutted.—Besides, in mercy,

est, O that we now had here

Enter King Henry.

If
1
|

By Jove, [am not covetous for gold; he constable desires thee thou wilt mind
Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns' me not, if men my garments wear ;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But, if it be a sin to covet arate cnet —

am the most offending soul alive. ‘Must lie and fester. :
Now tanh my coz, wish nota man from England:| K. Hen. VW ho hath sent thee now?
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour,| Mont. The constable of France.
As one man more, methinks, would share from me, | K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer baek ;
For the best hope I have. O, donot wish one more :|Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,|Good God! why should they mock poor fellows
That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, = thus ? oe
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made, ‘The man, that once did sell the lion 8 skin :
And crowns for convoy put inte !.js purse: i While the beast liv’d, was kill’d with hunting him,
We would not die in that man’s company, |A many of our bodies shall, no doubt,
That fears his fellowship to die with us. |ind native graves ; upon the which, t trust,
This day is call’d—the feast of Crispian ‘Shall witness live in brass® of this day’s work:
He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, | And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, | Dying like men, though buried in your asa.
And rouse him at the name of Crispian. | hey shall be fam’d; for there the sun shall greet
He, that shall live this day, and see old age, | them,

}

T
‘hy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire

|
|
i
|
|
'From off these fields, where (wretches) their poor

Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, And draw their honours reeking up to ona
And say—to-morrow is Saint Crispian: Leaving their earthly parts to —o your yin
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, |The smell whereof shall breed a p a m ar
And say, these wounds I had on Crispin’s day. | Mark then a bounding valour hi nglish ;

Old men forget ; yet all shall be forgot, |That, being dead, like to the bu “a s grazing,

But he’ll remember, with advantages, | Break out into a second course of mischief,

What feats he did that day: Then shall our names,| Killing in relapse of mortality.

Familiar in their mouths as household words,— | Let me speak proudly ;—Tell the constable,
jeves (*) Gallantly. (4) Expedition. (5) Remind.
t} fe This day shall advance him to the rank| (6) é. e. In brazen plates anciently let into temb«

of a gentleman. stones,

3M

Scene LI. KING HENRY Y. 457Me

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SO Fotki 7
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458 KING HENRY Y. Act IV
We are but warriors for the working-day :! faites vous prest ; car ce soldat icy est disposé tout
Our gayness, and our gilt,? are all besmirch’d? a cetle heure de couper vostre gorge.

With rainy marching in the painful field ;

Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant,
There’s not a piece of feather in our host,

Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns ;

(Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly,) Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword,

And time hath worn us into slovenry : | Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour Pamour de
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim: | Dieu, me pardonner ! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne
And my poor soldiers tell me—yet ere night | maison : gardez ma vie, el je vous donneray deux
They’ll be in fresher robes ; or they will pluck icents escus.

The gay new coats o’er the French soldiers’ heads,|_ Pist. What are his words? =

And turn them out of service. If they do this, | Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gen-

(As, if God please, they shall,) my ransom then jtleman of a good house; and, for his ransom, he
Vill soon be levied, Herald, save thou thy labour ;| will give you two hundred crowns,
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald; | Pist. Tell him,—my fury shall abate, and I
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints: |The crowns will take.
Which if they have as I willleave’emtothem, | Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-tl ?
Shall yield them little, tell the constable. | Boy. Encore qwil est contre son jurement, de
Mont. I shall, king Harry. Andso fare thee well;|pardonner aucun prisonnier ; neantmoins, pour
Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [ Exit. |les escus que vous Pavez promis, il est content de
K. Hen, I fear, thou’lt once more come again for| vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.
ransom. | Fr. Sol. Sur mes genouxr, je vous donne mille
te i ld ad, |remerciemens : et je m’estime heureux que je suis
Enter the Duke of York. |tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le
York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg |Psus oe valiant, et tres distingué setgneur
The leading of the vaward.* |S eareereer ee
K. Hen. Take it, brave York.—Now, soldiers, | Pist. Expound unto me, boy. ;
march away :— | Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! thanks : and he esteems himself happy that he hath
{Bceunt, | fallen into the hands of (as he thinks) the most
‘brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of
SCENE IV.—The field of battle. Alarums :| England.
Excursions. Enter French Soldier, Pistol, and| Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.—

Boy. Follow me, cur. [Exit Pistol.
Pist. Yield, cur. | Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine, Bee
Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme| [Exit French Soldier.

de bonne qualité. |I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty
Pist. Quality, call you me ?—Construe me, art|® heart: but the saying is true,—The ony vessel
thou a gentleman? What is thy name? discuss. |™*kes the greatest sound. Bardolph, and Nym,
Fr. Sol. O seigneur Dieu! © had ten times more valour than this roaring devil

? , « : ry : an a ~ e. .
Pist, O, signicur Dew should be a gentleman :—|! the old play, a9 overs att may A eott ee nails
Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark | . an ( eRe ‘eee ee * , nanee 5
© signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,° at would this be, if he durst steal any thing

Except, O signieur, thou do give to me adventurously. I must slay with the lackeys, with
Egregious ransom ithe baggage of our camp: the French might have
J S Gaile ° } : ~ nf ne . e

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde! ayez pitié de|* good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none
ont? to guard it, but boys. [Exit

Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys; SCENE V.—Another part of the field of battle.
7 r ste , 6 ‘ , ros . . . ~/
For I will fetch thy rim® out at thy throat, Alarums. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Bourbon,

In drops of crimson blood. . Constable, Rambures, and others.
Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d’eschapper la force R :

de ton bras ? Con. O diable!

Pist. Brass, cur! Orl. O seigneur!—le jowr est perdu, tout est

Thou damned and luxurious” mountain goat, perdu !

Offer’st me brass ? | Dau. Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy ! |Reproach and everlasting shame
Pist. Say’stthou me so? is that aton of moys ?*—|Sits mocking in our plumes.—O meschante for-

Come hither, boy ; Ask me this slave in French, tune !—

What is his name. Do not run away. [.4 short alarum.
Boy. Escoutez ; Comment estes-vous appellé ? Con. Why, all our ranks are broke,
Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer. Dau. O perdurable'® shame !—let’s stab ourselves,
Boy. He says, his name is—master Fer. Be these the wretches that we play’d at dice for ?

Pist. Master Fer! Pll fer him, and firk® him, and} Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom ?
ferret him :—discuss the same in French unto him.| Bour. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but
Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and fer- shame !
ret, and firk. Let us die instant : Once more back again ;
Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. | And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur ? Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand,
Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door,
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,"
1) We are soldiers but coarsely dressed.
2) Golden show, superficial gilding. (6) The diaphragm. (7) Lascivious,
3) Soiled. (4) Vanguard. (8) Pieces of money. (9) Chastise.
tS An old cant word for a sword, so called from| (10) Lasting.
a famous sword-cutler of the name of Fox, (11) t. e. Who has no more gentility.His fairest daughter is contaminate.

Con. Disorder, that hath spoil’d us, friend us now!
Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives
Unto these English, or else die with fame.

Orl. We are enough, yet living in the field,
To smcther up the English in our throngs,

If any order might be thought upon,
Bour. The devil take order now! lll to the
throng ;
Let life be short ; else, shame will be too long.
xe rt.
SCENE V fun, Tine ther part f the fie bel. way lla-
rums. Enter King Henry and forces : Exeter,
and others. .
K, Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant
countrymen:
But all’s not done, yet keep the French the field.

Exe. The duke of York commends him to your

majesty,

K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle?

this hour,
I saw him down ; thrice up again, and fighting:
From helmet to the spur, all blood he was.

Exe. In which array (brave soldier) doth he lic.
Larding the plain: and by his bloody side
(Yoke-fe'low to his honour-owing wounds, )

The noble carl of Suffolk also lies.

Suffolk first died; and York, all hagcled ov r,
Comes to him, where in core he lay instec p’ l,
And takes him by the bs ard ; kisses the g ish S,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face:

And cries aloud,—Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk !
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven ;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, the n fly a-breast ;
As, in this glorious and well-fouchien field,
We kept logelher in our chivalry !

Upon these words | came, and cheer’d him up:
He smil’d me in the face, raught! me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says,— Deer my lord
Commend my service lo my sovereign.
So did he turn, and over Suffolk’s neck

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss’d his lips ;
And so, espous’d to death, with blood he seal’d

A testament of noble ~f nding love,

The pretty and sweet manner of it fore’d

Those waters from me, which I would have stopp’d ;
But I had not so much of man in me,

But all my mother came into mine eyes,

And gave me up to tears.

K. Hen. I blame you not ;
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.—| Alarwin.
But hark! what new alarum is this same ?—

The French have reinfore’d their scatter’d men: —
Then every soldier kill his prisoners ;
Give the word through. { Exeunt.

SCENE VII.—Another part of the field. Ala-|

rums. Enter Fluellen and Gower.

|

rice, within

4
L

?

|
Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage! tis ex-|
pressly against the law of arms: ’ts as arrant a|
jece of knavery, mark you now, as can be ofiered, |
in the orld: In your conscience nov, is it not?
Gow. ’Tis certain, there’s not a boy left alive ;
and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle,
have done this slaughter: besides, they have burned
and carried away all that was in the king’s dent ;
wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused
every soldier to cut his prisoner’s throat. QO, ’tis a
ing! ;
ore og was porn at Monmouth, captain

(1) Reached. | (2) Scour.

 

Scene VI, VII. KING HENRY Y,

Alexander the pig was born ?
Gow. Alexander the great,

flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The
pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the
magnanimous, are all one reckoning, save the

phrase is a little variations,

Gow. I think, Alexander the great was born in
Macedon; his father was called—Philip of Mace-

don, as I take it.

_ £#tu. I think, it is in Macedon, where Alexander
is porn. I tell you, captain,—If you look in the
maps of the orld, I warrant, you shall find, in the
comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth,

situations, look you, is both alike. There

he

tnat th

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
     
   
  
  
    
   
    

459

Gower: What call you the town’s name where

is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover

a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye, at Mon-

’

yf

mouth: but it is out of my prains, what is the name
the other river; but *tis all one, ’tis so like as

my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons ir

a}

oth. If you mark Alexander’s life well, Harry

f Nlonmouth’s life is come after it indifferent well:

for t}

t there is figures in all things. Alexander, (Go
knows, and you know,) in his rages, and his furies

1

Lm

killed any of his friends.

nd his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, an

is displeasures, and his indignations, and also bein

\ little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales an

his angers, look you, kill his pest friend, Clytus.
Gow. Our king is not like him in that: he never

flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take

tales

out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and

finished. I speak but in the figures and compari-
sons of it: As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus,

|

being in his ales and his cups ; so also Harry Mon-
mouth, in right wits and his goot judgments,

turn away the fat knight with the great pelly doub-

laf

ind mocks; I am forget his name.
Gow. Sir John Falstaff.

let: he was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries,

Flu. That is he: I can tell you, there is goot

men porn at Monmouth.
Gow. Here comes his majesty.

Jlarum. Enter King Henry, with a part of the
English forces ; Warwick, Gloster, Exeter, and

others.

K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to France

ntil this instant.—Take a trumpet, herald ;

[
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill ;

af 1

if

Or void the field ; they do offend our sight:

[f theyll do neither, we will come to them,
\nd make them skirr? away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings :

Besides, we’ll cut the throats of those we have ;

{nd not a man of them, that we shall take,
Shall taste our mercy :—Go, and tell them so.

Enter Montjoy.

Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my

i¢veé,

Glo, His eyes are humbler than they us’d to be.

they will fight with us, bid them come down,

K. Hen. How now, what means this, herald ?

know’st thou not,

That I have fin’d these bones of mine for ransom ?

Com’st thou again for ransom ?
Mont. No, great king
I come to thee for charitable license,
That we may wander o’er this bloody field,
To book our dead, and then to bury them ;
To sorgsour nobles from our common men ;
For many of our princes (wo the while !)
Lie drown’d and soak’d in mercenary blood;oo)

“Sa

 

460 KING
(So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes ;) and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore; and, with wild rage,
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
aa Of their dead bodies.
qa K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald,
ia I ktiow not; if the day be ours, or no;

For yet a many of your horsemen peer,

And gallop o’er the field
Mont.

keener

Pe sais: a are

The day is

yours,

for it!—

 

Flu. He is a craven} and a villain else, an’t
please your majesty, in my conscience
K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a ge entlem: an of
iz great sort,? quite from the answer of his de rrec,

Flu, Though he be.as goot a gentlem: in as the
tevil is, as L ‘ucifer and Belzebub himself, it is ne-
cessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and
his oath: If he be perjured, see you now, his repu-

(1) Ooward,

siaeiapsimaaitaiiiesmt teint

    

(2) High rank.” {

HENRY V.

r , }
K. Hen, Praised be God, and not our strength, |

 

   
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
    
   
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
  
   
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    

 

Aci Iv.

tation is as arrant a villa, and a Jack saueec,? as
ever his plack shoe trod upon Got’s ground and his
earth, in my conscience, la,

K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirfah, whén thow
meet’st the fellow.

Will, So I will, my liege, as I live.

Kk. Hen, Who servest thou under ?

Will. Under eaptain Gower, my liege.

Flu. Gower is a goot captain; and is goot know-
ledge and literature in the wars.

 

K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier.
Will: Twill, my ee a
Kk. Hen. Here, F luclt ; wear thou this favour

for sia, and stick it in thy cap: : When Aléncgon and

What is this castle call’d, that stands hard by? |mysclf wete down together, I plucked this glove
Mont. They call it—Agincourt. from fe helm: if any man challenge this, he isa
K. Hen. Then call we this—the field ¢ cin-|{riend to Alencon ard an enemy to our person ; eit
. . court, thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thor
i Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus dost love me.
Fy Flu. Your grandfather of famous memory, an’t| Flu. Your grace does me as great honours, as
ti pleasé your majesty, and yuur great-uncle Edward |can be desired in the hearts of his subjeets: I would
i the plack prinee of Wales, as I have read in the|fain see the man, that has but two legs, that shall
d chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in|{ind himself eggricfed at this glove, thatis all; but
| France, ; | would fain sce it once ; an please Got of his grace,
4 K. Hen. They did, Fluellen n. that I might see it. ,
Flu. Your majesty says ve true: if your ma-| K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower?
\ jesties is remembered of it, Wel iman did goo Fiu. He is my dear friend, an please you.
bh serviec in a garden where lee ks did grow, wearin K. Flens Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him
i leeks in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty |to my ten
: | knows, to this hour is an honourable padge of the Flu. Y will fetch him. _ [ Exit,
. service; and, I do believe, your majesty takes no| K. Hen. My lord of Warwick,—and my brother
i scorn to wear the leck upon Saint Tavy’s da Gloster
i kK, eo fen, 1 wear it for a memorable honour: Follow Fluellen closely at the heels:
Bl: For | am Welsh, you know, good countryman. lhe glove, which I have given him for a favour,
fie All the water in = ye cannot wash your!|M haply, purchase him a box o’ the ear;
majesty’s Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell) {1 ldies I, by bargain, should
you that: Got pless it an id preserve it, as long as; Wear it myself. aed ood — Warwick :
it pleases his grace, and his majesty t 6! If that t soldier » him (as, I judge
K, Hen. Thanks, dod my countryman. By his blunt bearing i: will be p his word, )
lu. By Cheshu, Iam your majesty’s country-|Some sudden i chief may arise of it ;
‘man, I care not who know it; I will confess it to| For I do know Flue He n vaiiant,
all the ’orld : I need not to be ashamed of your! And, touch’d with choler, “hot as gunpowder,
majesty, praised be Got, so long as your majesty! And quickly will return an injury:
is an honest man. Follow, and see there be no harm between them.—
; { K. Hen, God keep me so!—Our heralds go with|Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [ Exeunt.
. Bring ¥ whe dc notice of the Mm umbers dead I SCENE dee By fore King r He nry’s Pavilion.
On both our parts.—Call ye er fi low hither. Enter Gower and Williams.
[ Points to W iliams. Bx Mont. and others. | ll. I warrant, it is to knight you, captain.
Ece. Soldier, you must come to the king Enter Fluellen.
K. Hen. Soldie rs why wear’st thou that glove Fix. Got’s will and his pleasure, captain, I pes
in thy cap seech you now, come apace to the king: there ts
Will. An’t please your majesty, ’tis the gage of| more ¢oot toward you, peradventure, than isin yout
one that I's hould fight withal, if he be alive iknow le dere to dream of.
K. Hen. An Englishman ? ws ir, know you this glove ?
Will. An’t please your majesty, a rascal, that; Fit.  aew the glove? I know, the glove isa
Hi swaggered with me last nig rht: who, if ’a live, and/¢! vA,
ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to| Vill. 1 know this; and thus I challenge it.
take him a box o’the ear: or, if I can see my} | Strikes him.
glove in his cap (wi lich he swore, as he was a so] I-| Flu. ’Sbuld, an arrant traitor, as any’s in the
dier, he would wear, if alive,) I will strike it out} universal ’orld, or in France, or m England,
soundly. | Gow. How now, sir? you villain!
K. Hen. What think you, captain Fluellen? is} Will. Do you think PIl be forsworn?
it fit. this soldier keep his oath ? Flu. Stand away, captain Gower; I will givé

treason his payment into plows, I warrant you,
|

Will. Tam no traitor.

Fiu. That’s a lie in thy throat.—I charge you in
his majesty’s name, apprehend him; he’s a friend
of the duke Alencon’s.

Enter Warwick and Gloster.

Wa the matter?

r. How now, how now! what’s

(3) For saucy Jack,Scene VIII. KING HENRY YV. 461

Flu. My lord of Warwick, here is (praised be Got|One huudred twenty-six: added to these,
for jt!) a most contagious treason come to light, |Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
leok you, as you shall desire in a summer’s day. | Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which,
Here is his majesty. |Five hundred were but yesterday dubb’d knights :
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
Enter King Henry and Exeter. There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ;
EL ; |The rest are—princes, barons, lords, knights,
K. Hen. How now! what’s the matter ? | ’squires,
Flu. My liege, here is a villain anda traitor, that,|And gentlemen of blood and quality.
look your grace, has struck the glove which your/The names of those their nobles that lie dead,—
majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon. Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France ;
Will. My liege, this was my glove; here is the| Jacques of Chatillon, admiral of France ;
fellow of it: and he, that I gave it to in change, |The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures ;
promised to wear it in his cap; I promised to!Great-master of France, the brave sir Guischard
strike him, if he did: I met this man with my glove Dauphin ;
in his cap, and I have been as good as my word, (John, duke ef Alencon; Antony, duke of Brabant,
Flu. Your majesty hear now (saving your ana-|The brother to the duke of Burgundy ;
‘esty’s manhood,) whut an arrant, raseally, beg-| And Edward, duke of Bar: of lusty earls,
garly, lousy knave it is: I hope, your majesty is) Grandpré, and Roussi, auconberg, and Foix,
pear me testimony, and witness, and avouchments, Beaumont, and Marle, Vaudemont, and Lestrale.
that this is the glove of Alencon, that vour majes-| Here was a royal fellowship of death !——
ty is give me, in your conscience now. Where is the number of our English dead ?
K. Hen, Give me thy glove, soldier: Look, here (Herald presents another paper.
is the fellow of it. ’Twas I, indeed, thou promised’st! Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk,
to strike ; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. |Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire;
Flu. An »lease your majesty, let his neck answer| None else of name ; and, of all other men,
for it, if there is any martial Jaw in the ’orld. But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here,
K. Hen, How canst thou make me satisfaction ?| And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Will, All offences, my liege, come fromthe heart: | Ascribe we all.—When, without stratagem,
never came any from mine, that might offend your! But in plain shock, and even play of battle,

majesty. Was ever known so great and little loss,
(. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse. /On one part and on the other ?~Take it, God,
Will, Your majesty came not like yourself: you| For it is only thine !

appeared to me but asacommon man; witnessthe| Eve. *Tis wonderful !

|

night, your garments, your lowliness; and what! K. Hen. Come, go wein procession to the village
your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech| And be it death proclaimed through our host,

you, take it for your own fault, and not mine: for|To boast of this, or take that praise from God,

sad you been as | took you for, I made no offence ;| Which is his only.

therefore, 1 beseech your highness, pardon me. Flu, Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to

K. Hen, Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with|tell how many is killed?

crowns, | | KA. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this acknow-
And give it to this fellow.—Keep it, fellow ; io ee vere ;
rear it for an honour in thy cap hat God fought tor us,

Till er ote ad hog him the crow ns:— | Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot,
And, captain, you mast needs be friends with him. Kk. Hen. Do we all holy rites ; Te D

Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow has Let there be sung Non nobis, and T'e ! eum,
mettle enough in his pelly :—Hold, there is twelve|The dead with charity enclos’d in clay,

; ss e Yalnic« an t “nels ; > 2
pence for you, and I pray you to serve Got, and keep| We'll th ; to ¢ ons and on im}ane the be
you out of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and| Where ne’er from France arriv’d more nape men.

; tis the petter for weunt.
dissensions, and, {| warrant you, it is the petter for|
ou. | sikh
Will, I will none of your money. a er
Flu. It is with a goot will; I can tell you, it will) A ;

serve you to mend your shoes: Come, wherefore}
ashful? your shoes is not so
should you be so pashful? your shoes i oo oe Pa tae
goot : %is a good silling, | warrant you, or I willl Cho. \ oy hsafe to these that have not read the
age i r | story,
mee ‘That I may prompt them: and of sueh as have,
. of ee : ‘ . = sd is
Enter an English Herald. |[ humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
K. Hen. Now, herald; are the dead number’d?| Which cannot in their huge and wena
Her. Here is the number of the slaughter’d| Be here presented. Now we bear the king

Enter Chorus.

French [ Delivers a eepr | Toward Calais: grant him there ; yale —
Wha is rs of ¢ sort are take save him away upon your winged thoughts,
4 at prisoners of good sort are taken, | Heave him away ’ iged
" ay ¥ 'Athwart the sea; Behold, the English ae
° ; 3 . ; . ( . - .
P ry . ¢ < > ; > nV s
Eze. Charles, duke of Orleans, nephew tothe king; | Pales in the Seagwits wn an Pe and 56 s
John, duke of Bourbon, and lord ovens: Whose shouts and claps k
a arons, knights, and ’squires sea,
Of other lords, and barons, knights, ee ea, in + a
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. | Which, like a mighty whiffler! fore the king,

K sand|Seems re is way; so let him land;
This tell me of ten thousand/Seems to prepare his way: so :
i Pe och eee And, solemnly, see him set on to London,
,

That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this|So swift a pace hath thought, that even now
number,
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead

 

(1) An officer who walks first in processions,TT ES TES TET

You may imagine him upon Blackheath :

Where that his lords desire him to have borne?
His bruised helmet, and his bended sword,
Before him, through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride ;
Giving full trophy, signal, and osient,

Quite from himself, to God.2 But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought
How London doth pour out her citizens!

The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,—
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,

With the plebeians swarming at their hee!s,—
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cesar in:
As, by a lower but by loving likelihood,

Were now the general of our gracious empress‘
(As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland coming
Bringing rebellion broached® on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quil,
To welcome him? much more, and much mori

cause,

Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
ae yet the lamentation of the French

nvites the king of England’s stay at home:
The emperor’s coming in behalf of France
To order peace between them ;) and omi
All the occurrences, whatever chane’d,
Till Harry’s back-return again to France ;
There must we bring him; and myself have play’d
The interim, by remembering you—’lis past.
Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance
After your thoughis, straight back again to lrance.

} i
{ du .0bb,

SCENE I,.—France. An English court of guard

Enter Fluelien and Gower.

,

,

,

Gow. Nay, that’s right: but why wear vou vour
’ 5 ’ . a d

leek to-day ? Saint Davy’s day is past.

Flu. There is occasions and causes why and
wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend,
captain Gower; The rascally, scald, beggarly,
lousy, pragging knave, Pistol,—which you and
yourself, and all the ’orld, know to be no petter
than a fellow, look you now, of no merits,—he is

come to me, and prings me pread and salt yester- |

day, look you, and pid me eat my leek: it was in

a place where I could not breed no contentions

with him ; but I will be so pold as to wear it in m)

cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell
him a little piece of my desires.
Enter Pistol.

Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling hike a tur-

key-cock.
Flu. Tis no matter for his swellines, nor his

turkey-cocks.—Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you):

scurvy, lousy knave, Got pless you!
Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst,
base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web ?°
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

Flu. I peseech you heartily, seurvy, lousy knave,
at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions,
to eat, look you, this leek ; because, look you, you
do not love it, nor your affections, and your appe-
tites, and your digestions, does not agree with. it, I
would desire you to eat it.

(1) i. e. To order it to be borne.

(2) Transferring all the honours of conquest from
himself to God.
m Similitude.
(4) The earl of Essex in the reign of Elizabeth.

   
   
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
     

462 KING HENRY V. Get V,

| Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.
| Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.]
| Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it ?
Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got’s
‘willis: I will desire you to live in the mean time,
land eat your victuals; come, there is sauce for it.
[Striking him again.}| You called me yesterday,
mountain-squire ; but 1 will make you to-day a

quire of low degree. I pray you, fall to; if you
can mock a Jeek, you can eat a leek,

Gow. Enough, captain; you have astonished’

Fiu. IT say, 1 will make him eat some part of
my leek, or I will peat his pate four days :—Pite,
i pray you; itis goot for your green wound, and
your ploody coxcomb,

Pist. Must I bite ?

Flu. Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out

{ questions too, and ambiguities.
sy this leek, 1 will most horribly revenge ;
I eat, and eke I swear—
iiu. iat, ] pray you: Will you have some more
Luce to your leek? there is not enough Jeek to
swear by. ,

Pist. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see, I eat.
+, Nluch goot do you, scald knave, heartily.
Nay, ’pray you, throw none away ; the skin is goot
lor your proken coxcomb. When you take occa-

ms to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at
a. <a that is all

Pist. Good.

Pei. Ay, leeks is gcoot:—Hold yOu, there is a

roat to heal your pate.

Pist. Mea groat!

Fiu. Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it;
x I have another leek in my pocket, which you
hall eat.

Pist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge.

Plu. If 1 owe you any thing, I will pay you in

cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy
nothing of me but eudgels. God be wi’ you, and
keep you, and heal your pate. [ Exit.
Pist. All hell shall stir for this.

Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly
knaye. Will you mock at an ancient tradition,—
begun upon an nonourable respect, and worn as
i memorable trophy of predeceased valour,—and
dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words ?
[ have seen you gleeking® and galling at this gen-
Uicman twige or thrice. You thought, because he
uld not speak English in the native garb, he
could not therefore handle an English cudgel: you
find it otherwise ; and, henceforth, let a Welsh cor-
rection teach you a good English condition.’ Fare
ye well, [ Exit,
| ist. Doth fortune play the huswife!® with me

now ?

News have I, that my Nell is dead ithe spital®!
|}Of malady of France ;
| And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
|Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
| Honour is cudgell’d. Well, bawd will I turn,
nd something lean to cutpurse of quick hand,
To England will I steal, and there [Pll steal:
And patches will I get unto these scars,
| And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars.
| [ Exit.
| (5) Spitted, transfixed.
(6) ‘Dost thou desire to have me put thee to
death ??
(7) Stunned. (8) Scoffing, sneering.
(9) Temper. (10) For ijlt, (11) Hospital,Beene IT.
SCENE II.—Troyes in Champagne. .An apart-

ment in the French King’s patace. Enter, at
one door, King Henry, Bedford, Gloster, Exeter
Warwick, Westmoreland, and other lords ; al
another, the French king, queen Isabel, the prin-
cess Katharine, lords, ladies, &c. the duke of
Burgundy, and his train, ;

K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we
. are met !
Unto our brother France,—and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day :—joy and good wishes
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine ;
And (as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv’d,) ©
We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ;—
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all !
Fr. King. Right joyous aye we to behold your
face, :
Most worthy brother England; fairly met :-—
So are you princes English, every one.
Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
$ we are now glad to behold your eyes ;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks -
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love.
K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
Q.Jsa. You English princes all, [ do salute you.
Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great kings of France and England! That I have
labour’d
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial majesties
Unto this bar' and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail’d,
That, face to face, and royal eye to eye,
You have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me,
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub, or what impediment, there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,

KING HENRY Y¥, 468

To swearing, and stern looks, diffus’d4 attire,
|And every thing that seems unnatural.
| Which to reduce into our former favour,*

You are assembled: and my speech entreats,
That I may know the let,¢ why gentle peace
|Should not expel these inconveniences,

And bless us with her former qualities.
| K. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you would the
peace,
| Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
| Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
| With full accord to all our just demands ;
| Whose tenors and particular effects
| You have, enschedul’d briefly, in your hands.

Bur. The king hath heard them ; to the which,

as yet,
| There is no answer made.
K. Hen.

Well then, the peace,
Which you before so urg’d, lies in his answer.

Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye
O’er-glane’d the articles: pleaseth your grace
To appoint some of your council presently
| I’o sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will, suddenly,

Pass our accept, and peremptory answer.

K. Hen. Brother, we shall.—Go, uncle Exeter,—~
And brother Clarence—and you, brother Gloster, —
Warwick—and Huntingdon,—go with the king :
| And take with you free power, to ratify,
| Avgment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
|Shall see silvantagethle for our dignity,

Any thing in, or out of, our demands ;
|And we’ll consign thereto.—Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes, or stay here with us ?
| @. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with
them ;
| Haply, a woman’s voice may do some good,
| When articles, too nicely urg’d, be stood on.

K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here
with us ;
| She is our capital demand, compris’d
aw the fore-rank of our articles.
|

 

 

Q. Isa. She hath good leave. [Exeunt all but
Henry, Katharine, and her gentlewoman.
K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair,

| Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms

. : ; " \Nueh ae : , wata le Ne par
Should not, in this best garden of the world, }Such as will enter at a — s ear,

Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage ?
Alas! she hath from France too long been chas’d .|
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached,—
Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair,

Put forth disorder’d twigs: her fallow leas

The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,

Doth root upon; while that the coulter? rusts,
That should deracinate’ such savagery :

The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness: and nothing teems,

But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness :
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,

The sciences that should become our country ;
But grow, like savages,—as soldiers will,

That nothing do but meditate on blood,—

 

(1) Barrier. oe Plowshare.
(3) To deracinate is to force up tne roots,

  

And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart ?

Kath. Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot
speak your England.

K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love me
soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to
hear you confess it brokenly with your English
tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

Kath. Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is—like
me.

K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate; and you
are like an angel. ‘

Kath. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les
anges ? Mie

Alice. Ouy, vrayment (sauf vostre grace) ainsé
dit il,

K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine ; and I must
not blush to affirm it.

Kath. O bon Diew! les langues des hommes sont
pleines des tromperies. ;

K. Hen. What says she, fair one? that the
tongues of men are full of deceits ? :

Alice. Ouy ; dat de tongues of de mans is be
full of deceits: dat is de princess.

K. Hen. The princess is the better English

(5) Appearance,

4) Extravagant.
6) Hinderance,ie
i

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—

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464 KING H

woman. lfaith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy un-
derstanding: 1 am glad, thou canst speak no bet-
ter English; for, if thou couldst, thou wouldst find
me such a plain king, that thou wouldst think, I
had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no
ways to mince it in love, but directly to say—l love
rou: then, if you urge me further than to say—
Do you in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me
our answer; faith, do; and soclap hands anda
torgtint How say you, lady?

Kath. Sauf vosire honneur, me understand well.

K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses,
or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me:
for the one, I have neither words nor measure ; and
for the other, I have no strength in measure," yet a
reasunable measure in strength, If I could win a
lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle
with my armour on my back, under the correction
of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into
awife. Or, if I might buffet for iny love, or bound
my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a
butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off: but,
before God, I cannot look greenly,? nor gasp oul
my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protesta

=
tion; only downright oaths, which I never use til
urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst
love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face }s nol
worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for
love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be th)
cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst

love me for this, take me: if not, to say to
I shall die, is true ; bat—for thy love, hy th Lord,
no; yet | love thee too. And while thou livest, dear
Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined? con-
stancy ; for he pe rforce must do thee right, because
he hath not the gift to woo in other places ; for these
fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves
into ladies’ fayours,—they do always reason them-
selves out again. What! a speaker is buta prat
a rhyme is but ballad. A good Jeg will fail;*
straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn
white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair fac
will wither; afull eye will wax hollow : but a goo
heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, th
sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and
never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou
would have such a one, take me: And take me,
take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And
what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair,
and fairly, I pray thee,

Kath, Is it possible dat J should love de enemy
of France?

K. Hen. No: itis not possible,.you should love
the enemy of France, Kate: bul, in loving me, you
should love the (riend of France; for I love France
so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I
will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is
mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and
you are mine.

Kath. I eannot tell vat is dat.

K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French;
which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like
a new-married wife about her husband’s neck,
hardly to be shook off. Quand j’ay la possession

ter :

de France, et quand vous aves la possession de)

moi, (let me see, what then? Saint Dennis be my
speed !)—done voslre est France, et vous estes
mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the
kingdom, as to speak so much more French: |

(1) In dancing.
(2) i, e. Like a young lover, awkwardly.

(3) He means, resembling a plain piece of metal,

which has not yet received any impression,

ENRY Y. “ict ¥.

shall never move thee in French, unless it be to
laugh at me.

Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, le Frangois que vous
parlez, est meilleur, que PV Anglois lequel je parle.

K. Hen. No, ’faith, ’tis not, Kate ; buf thy speak-
ing of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely,
must needs be granted to be much at one. But
Kate, dost thou understand thus much English }
Canst thou love me ?

Kath. 1 cannot tell.

K,. Hen, Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate?
I’ll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me: and
at night when you come into your closet, you'll
question this gentlewoman about me; and i know,
Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me,
that you love with your heart: but, good Kate, mock
me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess, because
I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be’st mine, Kate,
(as I have a saving faith within me, tells me,—thou
shalt,) I get thee with scambling, and thou must
therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder: Shall
not thou and I, between Saint Dennis and Saint
George, compounda boy, half French, half English,
that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk
by the beard? shall we not? what sayest thou,
flower-de-luce ?

Kath. 1 do not know dat.

K. Hen. No; ’tis hereafter to know, but now to
promise: do but now promise, Kate, you will endea-
vour for your French part of such a boy; and, for
ny English moiety, take the word of a king, and a
bachelor. Wow answer you, la plus belle Katha-
rine du monde, mon tres chere et divine deesse ?

Kath. Your maj e sté ’ave Jausse Irench enough
to deceive the most sage demotselle dat is en Franee.

K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine
honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by
which honour I dare not swear, thou lovest me; yet
my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not-
withstanding the poor and untempering effect of my
visage. Now beshrew my father’s ambition! he
was thinking of civil wars when he got me; there-
fore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an
ect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I

rit them, But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax,
the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old
, that ill-layer up of beauty, ean do no more
spoil upon my face; thou hast me, if thou hast me,

(yr
ie

i
t the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear
me, better and better; And therefore tell me, most
fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your
maiden blushes ; avouch the thoughts of your heart
with the looks of an empress ; take me by the hand,
and say—Harry of England, I am thine: whieh
word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear, withal
but I will tell thee aloud—England is thine, Ire.
land is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantage-
‘net is thine; who, though I speak it before his face
jit he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt
lfind the best king of good fellows, Come, your
lanswer in broken music; for thy voice is musie
and thy English broken; therefore, queen of all.
Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English,
Wilt thou have me? ;
Kath, Dat is, as it shall please de roy mon pere.
K, Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it
ishall please him, Kate.
| Kath, Den it shall also content me,
| K. Hen, Upon that I will kiss your hand, and J
leall you—my queen. ; ;

(4) Fall aways
| (5) t &, Though my face has no power to soften
You
} e

oKING
Kath.

La @is$eZ, MON sei ener, luisses

2
ma foy, je ne veux point que vous abbaisse-
grandeur, en baisant la main Pun vostre indizne|
> . . ~ . . .
servileure » EXCUSES MOY, Je vous supplie, mon bres

puissant seirneur.
K. Hen. Then I will
Kath. Les

baisées agevani leu) TLOVCE
: d
France.

K, Hen.

/ © ly
dames, et ¢ Ta ‘ : oe
» Un Esl pust le coutume

Madar

 

m, my interpreter, what says she
tlice. Q it it is not be de {i uon porr les ladic
of France »—I cannot te ll what is . English

K. Her To kiss

lciss,

Aliee. Von? majesty entendre b f »

K. Hen. It is not the | non | i Jnaids WW
France to, kiss before they are married, would s)
say ?

Alice. Or, v l .

K. Hen. 7. urt !
kines. Dear I \ I< no { 14

: ; ‘
Within the weal ry’s fashion: we aij
the makers of manners. Kate - and the liberty th
follows our }? CS { ll ul yf i tind
faults: as |] do \ | cli I hice
fashion of your country, in denvin ic a kiss
therefore, paviently, and yielding. [Kissine fifp
You have wit craft in ye ir IK
more eloquence: t sugar touch of them 1
the toncues of the Fre; council nd th
sooncr persuade EH] y of Enel ;
petition of monarchs. HI yur fat
Enter the French Ki and Ques Bu id

Bedford, Cy] yaty . xe eT Westm 4

other French and Enclish Lords.

Bur. God save vour majesty ' my retal cousin

teach you our princess English?
K. Hen. 1 would have her learn, my fair
how perfectly I love her; and that is good Encli

2

Bur. Is she not apt?

K. Hen. Our toncue is roue 1. coz: and mycon
dition? is not smooth: so that. having neit! r the
voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot!
s0 conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will
appear in his true likeness.

Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirt if I an-

reiire iy
njure ini

swer you for that. If you would co
you must make a circle: if up love
¥

conjure nf rs

in his true likeness, he must appear naked, and

blind: Can you blame her then, being a maid ye

" . : ° _s . ; beat --

rosed over with Lhe virgin crimson of modesty, if

she deny the appearance of a naked blind bov in
Lp}

her naked sceing self? It were, nry lord, a hard

consign to.
and yit ld

condition for a maid to

 ¢ H Yet the yd
is b lind, 5 os el

Bur. They are then exc
see not wh ut the do.

K. Hen. The : good my lord
t to winking.

to consent
Bur. I will wink on her to c®nsen

nk
) Win ,

fore: S.

| your cousin

my a if

you will teach her to know my meaning: for ,
' ' 1; 1 Ray

well summered and warm kept, are like flies at iB ir-
tholomew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes ;
and then they will endure handling, which befor:

would not abide looking on.
K. Hen. This moral ties me
hot summer; and so I will omtch the fly, your
cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too.
Bur. As love is, my lord, before it loves.
K. Hen. It is so: and you may,
nk love for my blindness ; yho cannot see many

over to time, and a

(1) Slight barrier, (2) Temper,

HENRY VY.

Our e&Stlre

some of you,}|

  

465

laissez :|a fair French city, for one fair French maid that
vostre| stands in my w ay.

_ fr. King. Yes, my lord, you see them perspec-
aah en’ ly, the cities turned into a m: aid; for they are

i girdled with maiden w alls, that w ar hath never

Shall Kate be my wife?
So please you.
fam content; so the maiden cities you

talk i, may wi ait | on a hee s so the maid, that stood
in the wa y of my shall show me the way to
Fy. I We have conse nted to all terms of
.. dien. Is’t so, my lords of England ?
*

g hath granted every article:

His daughter, first: and the n, in sequel, all,
Lccording to or ~~ proposed natures,
On he hath not yet subscribed this :—
vour maj on dey mands— Phat the king of
Fran ving any occasion to write for matter of
t, shall name your ‘hietnaelle in this form, and
with ution, in French,—Notre tres ’ cher
Fle) Fe é ineli Lerre, here lier (le France ;
andl { in | iO ak Teeter sai nus filius noster
H its re I iil hen » Fri mete.
Ktitge Nor this I have soe brother, so denied
Dbuteyour request shall make me let it pass,
K. Hi L pray you then, in love and dear
iiice
that one article rank with the rest:

ind, thereupon, give me your daughter,

Lr, King. Take her, fair son; and from her
bI od raise up
issue to me: that the contending kingdoms
Jt France and England, whose very shores look

pale

‘ach other’s happiness,

Vlay cease their 1 hatred ; and this dear conjunction
Plant neighbourhood and christian- like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that neverwar advance
His bleeding sword ’twixt England and fair France.
tate

itt, Amen!

K. Hen. Now welcome, Kate:—and bear me
witness all,
Uhat here [ kiss her as my sovereign queen.
[ Flourish.
QQ. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages,
os

ombine your hearts in one, your realms in one!

\s man oe wife, being two, are one in love,

twixt your kingdoms such a spousal,
y ill office, or fell jealousy,

tror ie s oft the bed of blessed marriage,

‘Thrust in be ween the paction of these kingdoms,

ry. /
Aila@t never n
Which

To make divorce of their incarporate league :
That English may as French, French E nglishmen,
Receive each other !'—God s peak this Amen!

All, Amen !

Kt. Hen. Prepare we for

which day,

Our marriage :—on
y lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
all the peers’, for re ty of our leagues.—
shall I swear to Kate, and you to me;
1 may our oaths,well kept aftd prosp’roys be!
; ie [Ezxeunt,

Enter Chorus.

Thus far, with rough, and al] unable pen,

Our bending* author nath pursu’d the story ;
[In little room confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts the full course of their glory.

(3) Application.
(4) i, e, Unequaf to the Weight of the subject.

aSeen

ores

Sasa oes

ar t 2 " Fa
i
%

KING HENRY Y., Jicl V.

Small time, but, in that smail, most greatly liv’d,
This star of England: fortune made his sword ;
By which the world’s best garden’ he achiey’d,
And of it left his son imperial lord.
Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown’d king
Of France and England, did this king succeed ;
Whose state so many had the managing,
That they lost France, and made his England)
bleed :
Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake, |
In your fair minds let this acceptance take. [ Ezit.

 

—g-—
This play has many scenes of high dignity, and|
many of easy merriment. The character of the|

’

(1) Franee. j

king is well supported, except in his courtship,
where he has neither the vivacity of Hal, nor the
grandeur of Henry. The humour of Pistol is very
happily continued: his character has perhaps been
the model of all the bullies that have yet appeared
on the English stage.

The lines given to the Chorus have many ad-
mirers; but the truth is, that in them a little may
be praised, and much must be forgiven; nor can
it be easily discovered, why the intelligence given
by the Chorus is more necessary in this play, than
in many others where it is omitted. The great
defect 6f this play is, the emptiness and narrow-
ness of the last act, which a very little diligence

might have easily avoided.
JOHNSON,arte

,ee ee eee eT aS = ae ae

inl

oe Re

os

 

Sere ef

GAYLORD